#this is just the same old story over and over

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

What Could Have Been

Summary: You've reached the age you can be chosen. Little do you know your future has been planned out from the start.

Pairing: Philip Graves x reader

Word Count: 7, 358 words

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, a/b/o, Omegaverse, Alternate Universe, AU of an AU, suggestive content, mentioned predatory behaviors towards a minor, Philip Graves is a major creep, reader has a set age for plot (she is an adult), dubcon (pushing noncon at the end) but it's muddy water because a/b/o, kissing, touching, lingerie, panic, coercion, virginity and purity culture, fade to black because I couldn't write smut for this

A/N: I am...very sorry for this. Honestly I've been debating posting it but I wrote 7k words and I don't want that to go to waste. This is very...dark. A lot is implied but there's still some fairly disturbing content because of those things. The reader is 18 in this because of plot, but it still feels very...icky. Definitely recommend reading Chapter 34 before reading this to understand the context. Not necessary to read. Just an AU what if kind of bit for the story.

Also if you're finding this and you've never seen my stuff before, Hi! I highly recommend reading Cherry Red, Crimson Blood first before this for context otherwise some things might not make sense. I suppose it could be read as a stand alone but still, context is nice to have

What Ifs Masterlist | Directory

“You’ve been chosen.” 

You had barely managed to get a bite in of breakfast when one of the staff members had pulled you away and led you to the director’s office. None of the omegas at FIOT particularly like him. He’s a small man, middle aged and balding. His scent is...not pleasant. Nutty with undertones of wet animals and whatever he ate for his meals that day. Every omega in the institute dreads being called to his office, being closed in with the offensive smell he permeates. 

You would have been experiencing that same disgust had it not been for your shock at his words. “What?” You breathe, eyes wide. 

“You’ve been chosen.” He repeats, folding his hands on his desk over a thin file. 

“So soon?” You ask, forgetting all decorum and manners you’ve had drilled into your head for two years. 

It’s your eighteenth birthday today. You just became old enough to be chosen a matter of hours ago. 

“This pack is very eager to claim you as their omega.” He says. “One of their betas will be by tomorrow to interview you.” 

Your heart flutters in your chest. While it’s shocking you were chosen so soon, this is what you had hoped for. Two years of training and drilling perfection into your head did pay off. You’ve hardly been on the available list more than a few hours and already there’s a pack interested in you. Something about it has a chill running down your spine, tickling at the base of your neck. You brush it off as shock at this all happening so soon. 

“You may return to breakfast.” The director says, going back to his paperwork. 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, exiting his office. 

It doesn’t feel like your feet touch the floor as you walk back to the mess hall, your body floating as you make your way through the halls. If tomorrow goes well, this will be the last day you spend in this building, this prison you’ve been confined to. They’ll be here as early as they can be tomorrow, if they’re this eager to choose you. 

The thought has something prickling in the back of your mind still. 

Who are they? Who is this eager to choose you? The must have known about you before you even showed up in the registry as being available. You’ve heard rumors that institutes will supply information about omegas to packs for the right price under the table. Information on omegas that aren’t old enough to be chosen. 

You wouldn’t be surprised if FIOT was one of those institutes. The packs that get their omegas here are packs that can pay a hefty price. There’s usually a waiting period while background checks are done and information has to be verified and packs have to interview with the director before omegas themselves can even be interviewed by the pack. You’ve seen it take weeks before. 

Whoever the alpha of this pack is...they knew about you before you became available. 

“What did the director want?” One of the omegas in your age group asks as you take your seat at the table again. Amanda. She cried for five days when she was brought in. 

The others at the table lean in close, like you’re about to reveal some big secret. 

“I’ve been chosen.” You tell them. The words almost seem like a foreign language on your tongue. 

They all cheer happily, getting looks from the wardens around the mess hall. 

“That’s amazing!” Chelsea says, wrapping her arms around you to squeeze you in a tight hug. 

“So soon?” Amanda asks as the congratulations die down. 

“Yeah.” You say. “They’re interviewing me tomorrow.” 

They all share looks, and you know they’re thinking the same thing you are. 

The rumors are true.

“Impressive, isn’t she?” The warden for your dorm group says, as if you’re not sitting there too. She’s responsible for overseeing the small group of eight omegas you’re a part of. She’s the most knowledgeable about the omegas under her watchful eyes, and it’s standard practice for the wardens to sit in on the interviews between the pack beta and the omega being chosen. 

“Quite.” The beta says, looking over your thick file. Bryan, he’d introduced himself as. He’d shaken your hand, something you hadn’t been expecting. He acknowledged you as existing right away, something that doesn’t happen often in the stories you’ve heard about interviews, stories from omegas that had made it this far in the process, but were rejected in the end. “Excellent scores, quite extensive essays.” He says, flipping through the file. He’s not really looking at it. You can see his eyes just scanning the pages. He already knows. He came into the building with his answer. 

Whoever his alpha is has already seen your file. 

He closes the file, pushing it forward on the table. He’s looking at you. You can feel his eyes on you. Yours are lowered respectfully, no matter how badly you want to stare back at him. 

“To be honest, my alpha already made his decision before I got here.” Bryan says, leaning his arms on the table. “Your profile was enough to convince him.” 

“So, you’d like to move forward with the process?” Warden Jameson asks. 

“Yes.” He says, nodding. “She’s going to be a perfect fit.” 

You glance up at him, a warm smile on his face as he stares at you. It’s really happening. You really have been chosen. 

The next hour is a flurry of paperwork and signatures. None from you, of course, but from the beta of your new pack. The paperwork would be sent to your new alpha to sign off on and to finalize the decision once you meet him. No one has ever been sent back after that point, yet you can’t help the nervous flutter in your stomach. What if they don’t like you after all? What if they made a hasty decision and regret it as soon as they meet you? What if you mess everything up?

You follow Bryan and the director towards the entrance to the building, something you haven’t seen since your tour after your arrival. It’s off limits to omegas, several locked doors standing between them and freedom. 

Or more like to keep others out. 

There’s someone at the front desk as you pass by, and you turn to look out of curiosity. It’s a middle aged woman with blonde hair, dressed in a business suit. “Kate Laswell, here for an appointment with Director Jones.” 

You don’t get to hear anything else, ushered out into the world by the director. You’ve heard how giddy he gets about omegas leaving from staff, though you supposed that’s because it’s extra money in his pockets. The more omegas he can match and get out of FIOT, the more the government pays him. 

“I’m looking forward to hearing how she’s settling in.” The director says to Bryan as he hands off your small bag of meager belongings. 

“Of course.” Bryan says, setting it in the front seat of the car waiting out front. “My alpha will be in touch.” 

“Good.” He shakes Bryan’s hand before turning to you. “Good luck. I expect the best from you.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, dropping your gaze out of respect. 

Bryan opens the car door for you and you slide in, smoothing out your skirt. You’re still in your uniform, and you won’t be able to change until you get to where you’re going. If they let you change. It’s important they remember where you came from, where you were taught the things you’re supposed to know, where you were trained to be the perfect omega. As if they could forget where they paid for you. 

Bryan drives away from the institute, taking you away from the place that’s been your home for the last two years. It’s the first time you’ve been outside those walls since you were forced in, ripped away from your home the day after your presentation. You’ve thought about your family many times over the last two years. Where are they now? How are they doing? What have your siblings been up to? Have any of them presented as omegas too? 

Maybe your new alpha will let you contact them again. 

It’s wishful thinking. Most don’t. Not the kinds of alphas that buy from FIOT. 

“Nervous?” Bryan asks, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Yes, sir.” You say, smoothing your hands over your skirt. You’re projecting your scent without even realizing it. “Sorry, sir.” 

He smiles. “I don’t blame you. I’d be nervous too. Don’t worry, though. You’re going to a good place.” 

Despite his well meaning words, you can’t help but feel a bit of trepidation. Is it a good place? Or is it only a good place by beta’s standards? He can’t possibly know, he can’t possibly understand, unless there’s other omegas. 

You’re almost excited by the thought of being around other omegas in a pack. Having that chance to have friends and bond with others like you who know. Those who understand. 

You can’t help but stare as Bryan pulls into the parking garage of a very nice hotel. The cars in the parking garage are some of the most expensive you’ve ever seen. You’re not surprised, given the types of alphas that choose omegas from FIOT. Rich, important alphas looking for trophies to wave around. 

Look at me, look at my perfect omega. 

Bryan opens your door for you, helping you out of the car. He’s holding your bag in his hand, using the other to guide you towards the elevator. His hand is warm, even though your back is beginning to sweat a bit. You’re really nervous now, but you try to keep your scent under control. 

Your new life is about to begin, the life of a claimed omega. 

Unless they don’t like you. 

You have to do everything in your power to make sure they do.

The elevator ride seems to take a lifetime as you go up to a high floor overlooking the city. You’ve never stayed in a hotel this nice before. You’ve never even been in a building with this many floors before. 

Bryan leads you down the hall to a door, using the keycard to open it. He gives you a reassuring smile before pushing it open and guiding you through. It’s a suite, possibly the nicest hotel room you’ve ever seen. Bryan leads you to the small living area, the man you assume is your alpha seated on one of the couches. He’s sitting there casually, ankle crossed over his knee, his arm thrown over the back of the couch. There’s a grin on his face, your eyes widening as you stare at him. 

“Phil?” 

It comes out before you can stop it, all training and decorum leaving as you stare at him in shock. His smile widens, showing off perfect white teeth and dimples. He’s a bit older now than he had been back then, but it is him. 

“Hi darlin’.” He says, pushing himself up to stand. “Been a while.” 

Ten years or so. He was your dad’s best friend while he was stationed in Texas. He was at your house constantly, sitting around watching sports and standing in the backyard while your father barbequed. He was always friendly to you, always sitting just a little too close, always hovering. You hadn’t thought anything about it back then. You were too young to understand. 

Now you do. 

You drop your gaze as he approaches, trying to recover from your shock. You still have an impression to make, a role to fill. Calloused fingers cup your chin, lifting your face back up. You stare up into Phil’s bright blue eyes, just as friendly as you remember them being. 

“None of that.” He says softly. “We’re familiar with each other, aren’t we?” 

“Yes, sir.” You say, swallowing thickly. 

A small smile tugs at his lips before he releases you. “Come on, make yourself comfortable.” He motions to the couches. “We've got a few things to discuss.”

Nerves twist in your stomach as you move to the couches, tucking your skirt under you before you sit. The couch is comfortable, your body sinking into the cushion. It's far more comfortable than the chairs and benches at the institute. He takes a seat right next to you, draping an arm across the back of the couch behind you. 

His fingers curl under your chin again, turning your head so you're looking at him. Those bright blue eyes scan your face, taking in every detail.

“Those pictures didn't do you any justice.” He says. Your file is sitting on the table in front of you. “You've always been a pretty little thing.” His thumb traces your jaw, your stomach churning. “Look like your mom more than your dad. That's certainly not a bad thing.” He smirks. 

He holds you there for a moment staring into your eyes. Something tickles in the back of your mind as he stares at you, something instinctual like a warning. He releases you, dropping his hand back onto his lap. 

“It's good to see you again.” He says, the fingers of the hand behind you playing with the strands of your hair. “A lot has changed, hasn't it? I got old, you became an omega. I always knew you would. Your temperament wasn't right for an alpha. Always so calm and eager to please. You weren't rowdy like your brothers. Always such a sweet little thing.” His fingers trail over the back of one of your hands where it's draped in your lap. Your stomach clenches at his touch, something churning inside you, something you haven't felt since the last time you were around him. “You didn't deserve the way he treated you. It wasn't your fault for becoming what you are.”

He's talking about your father. 

“How did you-”

“I was the one he called.” Phil says simply. “Raging and carrying on about his useless child presenting as an omega.” He shakes his head. “So I pulled some strings, promised some favors, and got you into FIOT immediately, with the stipulation that you would be mine as soon as you were old enough.” He grins. “Now here we are!”

You swallow thickly, staring at him. “It was you?”

He nods. “Had to make sure you'd be taken care of until I could come yet you myself. Now you’re here.” His arm wraps tighter around you, the hand that had been brushing yours dropping to wrap around your thigh. You stare up at him as he leans down slightly closer to you. He smells just like you remember. Woody with the rich scent of chocolate underneath. “I will take care of you.” He says, looking pointedly into your eyes. “You'll want for nothing and you'll be happy.”

Will you? 

You break away first, your eyes dropping to stare at the hand that’s gripping your thigh, fingers indenting the skin through your tights. It feels like a threat, a silent reminder of the power dynamic between you, something he won’t say out loud. He’s an alpha, you’re only an omega. He has control over you, he can dictate your entire life now that you’ve been chosen by him. You belong to him, just as he’s wanted. 

He’s been waiting longer than two years. 

“You hungry?” He asks, his entire demeanor suddenly shifting. 

You are hungry. You had left the institute just before lunch, and you had barely been able to eat breakfast because of the nerves. You nod, deciding telling the truth is better than to try to lie to him early on. “Yes, sir.” 

He gives you a grin. “You don’t have to be so formal. You can call me Phil, just like old times.” He finally releases you, leaning forward to grab a tri-fold menu off the table. “Pick whatever you like.” He says, putting it in your hands. “I’ll be right back.” 

He gets up from the couch and you watch him go before turning back to the menu. The prices make your stomach churn. Your family wasn’t necessarily poor, but with so many of you, you certainly weren’t taking very many vacations very often. Your family moved around so much there wasn’t much of a need to take vacations either. 

You’re not even sure what to do, looking at the menu. What was acceptable? What if you ordered something too expensive. With a hotel room like this, you’re not sure you could order something too expensive. You’re not even quite sure what Phil does anymore. You remember overhearing a conversation he had with your dad about joining MARSOC before he disappeared from your lives. Is he still involved with the military? Did he leave and enter a new career field, one that allows him to stay in places like this? 

You might never know. It’s not your job to know things like that. 

You just need to know how to serve your alpha and take care of him, follow his orders and give him pups when he desires them. Be a good omega and do whatever it is he wants. Your wants don’t matter, only your alpha’s. 

“Decide what you want?” Phil asks, appearing in front of you again. 

You jump in surprise, having been so caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed him approaching. You’ll have to break that habit and fast. “Yes.” You say, even though you hadn’t even read through the menu in its entirety. 

You try to stop your hands from shaking, picking out the first thing your eyes land on. You’re not even quite sure what it is or if you’ll like it. You needed an answer and you gave it to him. Just exactly what he wanted. 

That is your job, after all. 

Give him exactly what he wants. 

The bed looks plush and comfortable, larger than you’ve slept on in a long time. The beds at FIOT weren’t too terribly uncomfortable, but you’ve gotten so used to sharing a room it seems strange to be sleeping on your own. 

That’s not the only reason it feels strange. 

“Are you not going to-” 

Phil cuts you off before you can finish, not even needing to know what you were going to ask. “No. Not here.” He says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s for when we’re at home. Besides,” He smooths a hand over your hair. “You’ve had a long day.” 

He stares down at you for a moment, and you almost think he’s changing his mind, deciding he can’t wait until you’re back in Texas. Instead he takes a step back, turning to the dresser your bag had been set on. There’s other shopping bags next to it, things you hadn't even noticed when you walked in. 

You had been too focused on the bed. 

“Bryan picked up some clothes.” He turns back to look at you, his hand trailing down your back. “As cute as the uniform is, I’d rather you be comfortable.” 

You can see it in his eyes. He’s picturing you in it, and not standing before him. It makes your skin crawl. 

“Get some sleep.” He says, moving his hand from your lower back. “We’ve got an early flight tomorrow. You need anything, I’m across the hall and Bryan’s next door.” 

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Thank you, Phil.” 

He grins down at you, dimples indenting in his cheeks. “Of course, darlin’.” 

You stare at the door for a minute after he closes it, holding your breath. You half expect him to come back in, change his mind and decide he’d rather do it here. He could barge in, force you down on the bed and you wouldn’t be able to do anything. You’re not supposed to do anything. 

Good omegas do as they’re told. Good omegas don’t fight back. 

You wish the door had a lock on it. 

You jolt awake as you’re jostled in your seat. You let out a quiet sound, not quite sure where you even are, much less what’s going on. 

“Just a bit of turbulence.” A voice says, pushing your head to rest against a shoulder again. 

Right. You’re on a plane heading towards Dallas. You didn’t realize you fell asleep, your head resting on Phil’s shoulder. He smells like scent blockers, all three of you do. The plane is a cocktail of scents, the chemical burn of scent blocker mixed with the ugly mesh of too many scents in one confined space. Not everyone has the decency to use scent blockers while traveling. You’ve always hated planes for that reason. 

You stretch your legs out as much as you can, your knee bumping the tray lightly. It had been lowered, you assume, at some point while you were asleep. Your book is sitting on it, the book you had been reading before you fell asleep. It’s the only one you own, a worn out copy you stole from FIOT’s library during your first week and never returned. The cover is faded and nearly falling off, the pages yellowed and stiff from how many times it’s been read over the last two years. 

You’d had a brief discussion about it before you descended into silence, Phil promising you all the books your heart desires once you get to his home. Your home. 

It’s your home now too. You’re no longer attached to your family, no longer attached to the institute. Phil is your world now, and you exist solely in his sphere. You’re dependent on him, and once the claim is made and the paperwork is filed, you will be his forever. 

There won’t be any going back. 

Phil will never change his mind. 

The plane jostles again and you grip the arm resting on your leg out of instinct. 

“Easy.” Phil shushes you, his lips brushing your forehead. His hand closes around yours, squeezing it gently. “Haven’t flown much, have you?” 

“Twice.” You say, your fully awake brain realizing you’re still leaning against his shoulder, but you’re not sure you should move. He obviously likes it if he let it happen. Will he get mad if you try to move? Would he reprimand you on the plane, even if you are quite spaced out in first class? 

He hums, resting his cheek on your head. “We’ll go on lots of flights together. I’ll take you all over the world.” 

Would he take you to see your family again? 

They were friends once. He has to at least know where they are and what they’re doing. Would he do that for you? Or is he going to keep you isolated as expected to prevent those bonds from forming again. Your only bonds should be with him and his pack. Not your old pack that you left behind for a reason. 

You don’t know anything about his pack. 

You know he has a beta, Bryan, his most trusted beta, from the looks of it. How many others are there? How many other alphas and betas? Is he head alpha, or is there someone else? You can’t imagine Phil not being in charge. He always seemed to take command of a room, even with other alphas. Even with your dad. 

Are there other omegas in his pack? Or will you be alone, surrounded by alphas and betas? 

Can you even ask him? Or is he saving that for later, when you’re at his home. Would he get annoyed if you asked? Would it ruin his plan that he obviously has laid out? 

Your name being said brings you back to reality, your head tilting to look up at Phil. He’s staring down at you, his eyebrows raised. 

“Welcome back.” He says, and for a second you wonder if you fell asleep again. “Lost in your head there, huh?” 

You swallow thickly. “Yeah. My instructors said I have a lot of strengths, but my one fault is I think too much. Sometimes they’d say I’m sucking all the thoughts out of the room. Though, I think that was less of an insult towards me.” 

Phil chuckles. “Got a lot of things going on in that head of yours. Just don’t let it get you too distracted. Hate for something to happen to you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead again as the plane begins its descent. 

His words almost feel like a threat again, like a silent warning that something will happen if you don’t stop thinking so much. Will he try to fix that habit for you? Will he try to break you of that? Good omegas don’t have to think, they know and they act. An omega with too many thoughts is too independent. Alphas don’t like independent omegas. They want someone to listen and do as they're told, not question their orders. 

You can’t help but sense the silent threat that radiates from him, the undertone of danger that has warning bells going off in your head. He’s been nice and polite and caring so far. 

How long will that last once you’re in the privacy of his home? 

It’s a nice neighborhood. Nicer than you’ve ever lived in, at least. The houses are big, the cars parked outside are nice, the lawns are pristine. It’s all very picturesque, it all feels very...manufactured. 

Phil drives to the end of the cul de sac, pulling into the driveway of one of the two houses facing the rest of the street. There’s an American flag hung up on the porch rustling with the soft breeze. It’s warm outside, something you haven’t missed. It’s been years since you’ve lived in Texas, ten almost. You had been eight years old when your father received his next change of station orders and your family packed up and moved again. 

That had just been shortly after Phil disappeared from your family’s lives. 

Phil pulls into the garage, parking the SUV next to a rather expensive looking classic sports car. You stare at it for a moment, questioning just what Phil does and how much he makes from doing it. You’re not sure you want to know. 

You fumble with the seatbelt as Bryan opens the door for you, blinking yourself out of your haze. He offers a hand and you let him help you out of the car to not seem rude. Phil gives you a small smile as you approach him. 

He cups your chin, staring down at your face. “Jet lagged?” He asks, his thumb stroking your jaw before letting you go. 

Jet lagged, confused, uncomfortable, unsure. All of the above. 

“Yes.” You nod. 

“Come on. I’ll give you a tour and then you can nap.” He says, slinging an arm around your shoulders. 

He opens the door into the house, unlocked, you note. The inside is nice. Clean, pristine, staged looking. You’re not sure if anyone even lives in the house. You can’t help but wonder if Phil bought this house just for this moment. 

“Cleaners come twice a week.” He says as he leads you around the first floor. “This whole space is yours, except for this room.” He says pointing out a door at the end of one hallway. “This is my office. Door’s always locked at all times. No one is allowed in besides me. You see anyone trying to get in, you tell me right away. Understood?” 

You nod. The idea of what could be behind that door has a shiver running down your spine.

“Good girl.” He says, booping your nose. “Now, for the best part.” 

He leads you upstairs, giving you a quick tour of guest bedrooms that don’t look like they’ve been touched, bathrooms far too clean to have ever been used. Why he needs so much space is beyond you. 

No, you know why. 

He leads you down to the end of a hallway, a door looming in front of you. You know what’s behind it. It’s what’s been clawing at you since the plane landed, since the drive from the airport, since you stepped foot in Phil’s home. Your home. 

It’s nice inside. Clean, well organized. It looks like a stage in a movie. The bed is large, larger than necessary you think. The comforter is a deep navy with nothing but the necessary amount of pillows on it. There’s a chair in the corner that doesn’t look like it’s ever been sat in. A TV hangs on the wall across from the bed and a dresser sits between two doors on the far wall. The closet and bathroom you assume. It’s spacious, but not comforting. 

That’s your job. 

“Don’t worry, you can add your womanly touch to it later.” Phil says, stepping up behind you. You can’t hide the way your body tenses as his hands slide up your arms. His breath fans over your ear as he leans down, pressing his face against your neck. “We’re going to make good use of this room.” His lips brush your throat, tongue darting out to lick your scent gland. He hums appreciatively. “Sweeter than I remember, those strawberries.” His arms wrap around you, pinning your back against his chest. “We were made for each other.” 

Your stomach clenches as his scent intensifies, blending with yours. You try not to panic as his lips drag up the side of your neck. There’s no stopping him. There’s no convincing him to wait. 

He presses his nose into your hair, taking a deep breath in. “Get some rest.” He finally releases you. “I’ve got some things to take care of, and I don’t doubt the girls will want to take you shopping.” 

“Girls?” You frown, turning to face him. 

“The other pack omegas. They’re excited to finally meet you.” 

Oh. You haven’t even thought about the pack or how big it is or its dynamics. Everything has happened so quickly, there’s been no time for discussions like that. You suppose you should have that conversation soon. Though, it’s been a long day already and he’s not wrong. You do need some rest. 

‘A good night’s sleep is essential for omegas to do their jobs effectively. No alpha wants a whiny omega.’ 

He brushes his hand over your hair, giving you a soft smile. “Take a nap. You look like you need one.” He presses a kiss to your forehead before he leaves, closing the door behind him. You stare at it for a long moment, half expecting him to change his mind, but you can hear him going down the stairs. You can hear everything in the silence of the house. It’s almost too quiet after the constant noise of the institute. There’s always someone talking, moving around, making noise. Even at night it was never truly quiet. 

Now the silence is almost loud in your ears. 

It won’t be silent forever. 

You stare at the bed, half tempted to just curl up on the floor. He would be mad if you slept in one of the guest rooms. He’d know immediately. You’ll have to brave the bed. Better to do it now than when you have no choice. 

“Look at you!” Hands squeeze your arms. There’s so many scents floating around you, yet it’s comforting. You’re among your own again. “Oh, you’re just a baby aren’t you?” 

Natalie, her name is. You had been introduced in a flurry of excitement, and you had lost track of most of their names. Doesn’t matter, you’ll learn them all eventually. 

Her alpha is Osmond, ‘Oz’ as he’d told you to call him, Phil’s second alpha. Not necessarily a large man, but highly intimidating nonetheless. You’d guess Natalie to be in her 30s, though you’ve never been good at guessing ages. 

“How old are you, sweetie?” She asks, squeezing your arms again. She’s trying to comfort you in your obvious state of overwhelm. 

“Eighteen.” You answer, staring up at her. 

Something flashes across her face, but it disappears as quickly as it arrived. “You are a baby.” She wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, we’ve got a lot to cover and we’ve got some errands to run.” 

There’s a lot of omegas. Phil had finally broken down the pack and its dynamics over a late lunch, even introducing you to a few members on your way to Oz’s house. You had your suspicions that Phil was pack alpha, and you were right. His presence, the kind of power he radiates. You’re going to be the head omega once Phil has claimed you. Natalie has been serving that position, as second alpha’s omega. 

You’re not sure you want to take it from her. 

They’re all older than you, if by only a couple of years. You do feel like a baby in their midst, so unprepared and unsure. It’s natural to feel that way, you were taught. There’s a shift, a change in dynamics, an adjustment period in the pack when a new omega is added. 

Why couldn’t Phil have just been the family alpha type?

“Phil says you’ve known him for a while.” Anna, Marcus’ omega, says. 

You nod. “He was friends with my dad when he was stationed in Fort Worth.” 

“That was a while ago.” Jenny says. 

“About ten years.” You say. 

Silence falls in the room for a moment. It’s a tense silence, speaking volumes of their understanding and the realization of the situation. They won’t say anything. They can’t say anything. 

“Well,” Natalie says, breaking the silence. “We’re glad you’re here. If you need anything at all, you’ve got us now.” She wraps her arms around you again. She reminds you a bit of your mother, perhaps if your mother hadn’t been constrained by the controlling nature of your father. “All omegas truly have is each other, right?” 

The others agree with her, and you can’t deny it. What do omegas really have? Nothing their alphas don’t want them to have. Nothing parents, institutes, anyone in control don’t want them to have. 

All we really have is each other. 

“I mean it.” Natalie says. “Anything at all.” 

They are excited to take you shopping, despite the heaviness of the conversation that had transpired. They spoil you, throwing bags and bags in the back of the SUV, brushing off any concerns about money. Anything you want or need, you get several of them. It’s overwhelming after never getting anything but the bare necessities and what the institute wants you to have. 

Marcus, one of the higher ranking alphas in the pack, follows everyone around like a security detail. You had been concerned upon hearing only one alpha was accompanying you...until you saw Marcus for the first time. He’s big. Very big. Tall and bulky, he’s the perfect specimen of an alpha. Many young omegas’ dream alpha. Marcus is intimidating, letting off a dangerous air which causes most that pass your group to not even give you a second glance. 

He escorts your small group around, offering up no question or complaint. You almost wish he was going to be your alpha, but then again, you know almost nothing about him. You don’t even really know that much about Phil. Most of the things you know are things you overheard from conversations he had with your father. But how trustworthy are those things, really? You hadn’t understood much until now. Now it all makes sense. 

A lot of things make sense now. 

Natalie stands with you on the sidewalk as Marcus and Bryan carry load after load of bags into Phil’s house. Your house. You’re scared for what’s coming tonight. Phil won’t wait. He won’t put things off, he won’t hold off until your first heat. He’ll want to make things official now, stake his claim as soon as possible. He’s waited ten years for this. 

Natalie smiles softly down at you, a knowing look in her eyes. “Nervous?” She asks, picking up on your uneasy energy. 

You nod, trying to stop the tears from pooling in your eyes. Good omegas serve their alphas, no matter what. 

“I know what that’s like. I was scared shitless too.” She laughs quietly. “I think Oz was just as nervous too. Just relax and breathe. Phil will take care of you. That I can be confident about.” Her smile turns almost bittersweet. She knows. She understands. “You’ll be alright. I’ll come by tomorrow morning, okay?” 

You nod, trying to suppress your nervousness. Natalie will understand, though you’re not so sure Phil will. 

You look terrified as you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You bathed an hour ago and yet you still can’t quite bring yourself to leave the bathroom. You smooth your hands over the silk hugging your skin for the thousandth time. You’re shocked you haven’t worn through the thin fabric yet with your sweaty palms. 

Your eyes dart down to the sink, your stomach churning wildly as the bedroom door closes. Phil is back. You’ll have to leave the bathroom soon. You can’t spend the whole night behind the locked door. 

You don’t doubt he��d break it down eventually. 

Then he’ll be angry. 

You let out a long breath, curling your hands into fists to stop them from shaking. You have to do this. This is your job, your duty as an omega. Serve your alpha and make him happy. Be a good omega and do what he says. Obedience is an omega’s purpose. This is always what was going to happen, be it with Phil or with a stranger. Perhaps there is a small comfort in the fact you know Phil. You’re familiar with him. Why would he wait ten years for you just to hurt you? 

The little food you managed to eat churns uncomfortably in your stomach. Phil had treated you to dinner before he’d left again, giving you time to clean up and prepare yourself for tonight. For right now. 

You spritz more scent-enhancing perfume on your skin before you let out a long breath. You try to fix your face, not look quite so terrified, but you’re not sure you can hold it as you unlock the door, turning the knob. 

The light in the closet is on, the door half open. Phil must be in there, likely having to maneuver around bags. You’d unpacked some things and put them away, but you’d nearly had a breakdown when you reached the lingerie store bags. You’re wearing some of it now, the silk robe and little white number your fellow omegas had gotten you. Specifically for tonight, you think. You won’t be wearing it again. 

The closet door opens fully, Phil standing there in nothing but his jeans. His eyes trail your body as you stand there awkwardly in the middle of the room. His teeth sink into his lip, his scent thickening. You’re trying to look anywhere but at him but you can’t help the way your eyes are drawn to his form. He’s just as tall and muscular as you remember, more lean than bulky like your father had been. His skin is pale, though you can’t imagine him spending much time lounging in the backyard by the pool. Under the awning at the grill with a beer in hand as he used to do, that you can picture. 

“Look at you.” He says, turning off the light before stepping fully out of the closet. “All wrapped up like a present just for me.” 

You feel like vomiting as he approaches you slowly. You feel like a rabbit trapped in the sights of a hungry wolf, too afraid to run, too afraid to fight back. You’re going to be devoured and there’s no stopping it. 

You jump as his hand cups your face, your eyes darting up to his. There’s a soft look in them, an attempt at soothing your fear. There’s nothing he can do to make this easier, though, other than just get it over with. 

It’ll get easier. That’s what Anna told you. Eventually your omega will be happy, content with a good alpha and a pack. It’s just an adjustment. That’s why it’s recommended to wait when adding a new omega. Get past the adjustment period before reaching this stage. 

How do you stop an alpha that’s been waiting ten years? 

Most alphas don’t wait anyway. 

“Don’t be scared, darlin’.” He says, lips tilting up in a smile. “I’ll take good care of you.” 

His fingers tug at the ties of the robe around your waist, your heart thudding in your chest. You’re shocked he can’t hear it. It’s pulsing in your ears, nearly blocking out all sound as he pulls the tie free, revealing your lacy lingerie underneath. He lets out a low whistle as he pushes the robe off your shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. 

“Look. At. You.” He says, enunciating each word. His hands slide down your sides, brushing lace and smooth skin. “Can’t wait much longer.” He nearly groans, his gaze darkening. He steps up closer to you, your gaze locked on his. You can’t look down, you can’t stare at the tent in his jeans, you can’t stare at the bulge that’s brushing against your pelvis with every breath. “You ever done this before?” He asks. 

You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “N-No.” 

“No?” He raises a brow. “Not even a kiss?” 

You shake your head. 

“Pure little thing, all for me.” He nearly growls, pushing his body fully against yours. His hand cups the side of your neck, something tingling in the back of your brain as his fingers brush the sensitive skin on the back of your neck. 

You’re distracted from that tingle though as he kisses you, his lips rough against yours. You’re not sure what to do, but he doesn’t seem to care. His other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you tight against him. Your stomach is churning, not entirely from nerves anymore as his scent completely takes over, clouding your mind. Despite your nerves and hesitation, your omega purrs appreciatively. He smells good, like alpha. It’s exactly what your omega wants, what she’s been craving. 

“Fuck,” He groans against your lips, hands tugging at the lace covering your lower back. “So fucking sweet.” He bites at your lower lip, harder than you're expecting. You let out a quiet nose but that only seems to encourage him. 

He pulls away from you, turning you towards the bed. Your palms fall against the mattress to catch yourself. The comforter has been pulled down, your hands falling against the sheets. White sheets. 

Phil’s hands drag up your back until it reaches the top of the lace. He rips it easily, tearing it down the back before he pushes it off your shoulders. His hands run over your skin as he pushes the lace from your body, his back meeting your chest. His skin is warm against yours, his bulge pushing up against your ass at this angle. 

“Sweet little omega.” He growls, pressing his face into your neck, inhaling deeply. “All for me. All mine, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, alpha.” You say, fingers curling into the sheet beneath your hands. 

He hums appreciatively, nipping at the skin over your scent gland. You can’t help but begin to feel a stirring in your stomach. It feels good, despite everything. Your omega is growing complacent, the promise of what’s coming not nearly quite so frightening. 

It gets easier. 

Phil’s hands rest on your stomach, pushing your body tight against his. “Can’t wait for your next heat.” He groans, pushing his hips against your ass. “Gonna pump you full until it takes, give you a pup like you’ll be begging for. Keep you pumped full, just like your mama, huh. You’ll give me a big pack, won’t you?” 

You’re glad he can’t see your face as he holds you there, your eyes glued to the white sheet in front of you. You desperately fight back the tears blurring your vision. 

“Yes, alpha.” 

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[neo-kosmos]

hi all, shelby here! sorry for the total lack of activity on this blog for the past few years. we have been working diligently behind the scenes on our discord server as we wrote the drafts of the novels

if you haven’t heard, danny broke up with me and brian. we are getting neokosmos in the divorce as it has always been my baby and brainchild and brian has done virtually all of the prose writing since 2020. danny has wanted to step away for quite some time, and we are super proud of him for following his own path in life. the two of us will always be best friends but our time as partners and creative partners has come to an end.

we will be changing the name of neokosmos because danny is no longer working on and it is just not the same project that it was back in 2015. its a lot more adult, its a novel, the story and world is so much more developed and honestly we need a fresh start. as soon as we can we will be relaunching everything with the new name and posting the first five chapters for free for everyone to read to see if you wanna join us and make it happen. both brian and i are too disabled to work normal jobs so we need to make writing and selling artwork as our main gigs or we will be kind of fucked.

thank you to everyone who has believed in us over the years and especially our loyal patrons. its been hundreds of thousands of words and concept art and prep over the last 9 years and im so stoked to finally share what we have been cooking with more people. i started this project as a 23 year old recent grad with no idea what i was doing in life, and now at 32 i finally feel confident enough that what i am making is ACTUALLY GOOD????

so yeah, stay tuned, the whole project is about to enter Phase 3. love y’all

-shelby

[nhlclover]

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇(𝐄𝐃) 𝐏𝐓.𝟐 | 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

summary: a year later, quinn finally learns about what transpired between his brother and his girlfriend

warnings: none really, trevor being a little shit, maybe a little awkward

word count: 1.15k

note: this is a part two to this fic! i recommend reading that before you read this one :)

Luke pulled into the driveway, slotting his car between Jack and Quinn’s. The lakehouse stood timeless as ever, nestled against the sparkling blue of the water, framed by the tall, swaying pines. Everything looked the same, but it felt different for Luke.

It had been a full year since that summer — the summer that left him reeling with a storm of emotions he had barely been able to handle. Luke had spent the year distancing himself from those emotions, trying to forget how he’d spent the entire summer prior trying to avoid you, while simultaneously longing to be around you. The ache had faded with time and distance, and, the crush that had once felt all-consuming had faded to a mere flicker.

Now, as the familiar smell of pine and sun-warmed wood greeted him, Luke felt a strange mix of nostalgia and apprehension. He hoped that being here again wouldn’t bring back those old feelings, especially since you and Quinn were still as strong as ever.

He brought his bags into the house, the quiet environment signalling that everyone was out back. Luke dropped them in his room, heading to the back deck. On the dock, he spotted you slotted under Quinn’s arm, the two of you watching the sun begin to dip below the horizon. Luke felt himself smile, genuinely happy for the two of you. Happy that both of you had found someone so perfect for one another. This thought felt like a breath of fresh air.

The first couple weeks of summer were surprisingly easy. You all fell into the familiar rhythms of summer — long days on the water, games of volleyball and football, and late-night bonfires accompanied by laughter and jokes. Luke felt comfortable around you, the awkwardness from last year had dissolved, and he genuinely enjoyed your company now that his emotions weren’t a tangled-up knot.

One night you found yourselves gathered around the firepit, everyone laughing and joking as you played a game of truth or dare. The flames crackled, casting flickering shadows on everyone’s faces, and the air was warm with the scent of burning wood and the distant scent of the lake. A couple rounds of the game had brought out embarrassing stories like Cole telling everyone about the time he fell into a pond in front of his middle school crush and the completion of ridiculous dares, such as jumping into the freezing cold lake. The round turned to Trevor, who’s eyes narrowed on Luke.

“Alright, Luke,” Trevor smirked. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Luke replied, rolling his eyes at whatever ridiculous question he knew Trevor was about to ask.

Trevor leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. “Do you still have a crush on y/n?”

Everyone fell silent, the atmosphere tensing. Luke’s eyes went wide, his heart skipping a beat as every single pair of eyes turned toward him. He stared at Trevor, momentarily at a loss for words, then shifted his gaze to you, sitting on Quinn’s lap wrapped in his arms. You looked just as startled as he did, but quickly shook your head, your eyes pleading with him.

“I didn’t say anything to anyone, I swear,” you promised him.

Quinn, who had briefly tuned out as he scrolled on his phone, looked up, completely caught off guard by the question. “Wait, what? Since when did you like her?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he glanced at Luke.

Luke cleared his throat, trying to appear nonchalant, though his heart was hammering in his chest. “It was a thing last summer, but it’s over now. She actually helped me get over it.” He shot you a grateful smile, hoping that would end the discussion.

“You knew?” Quinn turned to you, his expression a mixture of confusion and concern.

You shrugged, trying to downplay it. “It was no biggie, babe. I just reassured him that we were in love and that he needed to get over it.” You laughed softly, your tone lighthearted, but your eyes flickered with a touch of worry as you glanced at Quinn.

Quinn’s eyes searched your face, and though he tried to keep his cool, a flicker of worry crossed his features. “You sure you’re over it, Luke?”

“Absolutely,” Luke replied firmly. “I swear, it was just a stupid crush. It’s done.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely over it,” Jack chimed in, leaning back in his chair. “He hooked up with some girl like… a bunch of times during the winter. Right, Luke?”

Luke shot Jack a look of disbelief, but it actually worked to diffuse the tension. Quinn’s shoulders relaxed, and a teasing grin spread across his face. “Scoring on and off the ice… nice.”

Luke chuckled, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, feeling the tips of his ears burning at Jack revealing that secret. The chorus of laughter from the group faded softly.

“Wait, Trevor, how did you know that Luke had a crush on me?” you asked, curious as no one had told anyone else about the goings of last summer.

Trevor sat up, clearly relishing his moment. “I mean, come on. You avoided her like she had the plague, but then couldn’t stop staring at her every time she walked by. You’d freeze up whenever she talked to you, and don’t even get me started on that time you nearly burned the burgers on the barbeque because you were too distracted watching her by the lake.”

Luke’s face was bright red now, and you were laughing with the others, though your eyes were soft and understanding. “It wasn’t that obvious, was it?” Luke groaned, half-laughing, half-horrified.

Quinn threw his head back, laughing. “That’s what that was? I just thought you hated her.”

You joined in, nodding in agreement. “Same! I thought he couldn’t stand me.”

Everyone laughed, the tension from the past evaporating in the cool night air. Luke ran a hand through his hair, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I was in deep shit last summer,” he confessed, shaking his head. “Like, the deepest shit I could possibly be in.”

Quinn shook his head, his smirk growing. "Man, I’m never letting you live this down."

Luke rolled his eyes, however he was relieved that the tension had eased and that the past crush was finally out in the open and behind him. “Yeah, yeah, go ahead and tease me. I deserve it.”

The game moved on, and so did the night, filled with more laughter, dares, and ridiculous truths. Luke felt something settle inside him, a sense of closure he didn’t realize he’d needed. As the fire crackled and the moon shone down on the lake, he finally felt free – free to be himself, free to be around you, and most importantly, free to enjoy the summer for what it was: a chance to make new memories and let go of the old ones.

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

Only him

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x reader

Summary: You always had a thing for retro games. When you got a old dating game from a pond shop for practically free, you thought you were blessed. how wrong were you.

Warning: Yandere!Toji, Fictional love triangle, Horror? Al!sentient!Toji, Angst, Panty smelling, A hint of somnophilia, Perv!Toji, Domestic abuse, Manhandling, Smut, fingering, squirting, cum-shot, cream pie, hair pulling, choking, this is a dark fanfic.

Today was the best day ever! You had a good feeling about this day, but you didn't know why until now!

You squealed loudly as you stepped out of the local pond shop, unable to help it; you danced with happiness and began to walk to your shoe box of an apartment while ignoring the disapproving stares of those who watched the scene.

The thud of your purse colliding with the floor didn't faze you, either when you almost tripped over your toss shoes. Too absorbed to care.

Flopping onto your bed, you took in the details of the Nintendo game card. The picture on the front was a bit chipped but it was still eye-catching. A pink heart sat front and center, with tiny red lettering of the title in the middle, and a park with cherry blossoms trees was the background. Mr. Right, hmm? I see about that.

Grabbing your old Nintendo Switch from your bedside table, you popped the card in the side and waited. A cheerful, 90s tune sounded out as the picture on the card filled your switch screen. With a smile, you turned to lay on your back as you clicked play, and once the pink screen faded, a menu of different features graced you. Character list?

The first roll of characters was less than eye-catching, and although the designs were made to be attractive, none captivated you. The second roll appeared to be just the same when two characters that stood side by side caught your attention. Black ragged hair lay on his forehead and almost covered the beautiful green eyes of the first character; they were like a freshly cut emerald, shined to perfection. His lips pulled up into a smug smirk, and an old scar ran down the right side of his mouth. The black jacket and white button-up shirt did nothing to hide his muscular build.

You gulped as your core pulsed.

The other character was just as handsome. His hair was white as snow, styled in a half down half spiked hairstyle, giving him a boyish look. His eyes rivaled the older man before him, pure light blue. Unlike the other character, his build was slimmer but no less attractive, his playful, cocky grin did things no real man could do to you.

Well, you knew what characters you'd be playing with.

Days passed and you couldn't put down your switch. Every lunch break at work was spent playing Mr. Right rather than eating and at night, the only light in your apartment was the screen light of your game. You were like a dead girl walking, dark bags under your eyes and a slouched posture; you swore you heard a kid's small scream as you placed down his and his mother's food on the table of the cafe where you worked.

So when things begin to go missing, you blame it on your tiredness. Surely, you must have misplaced them. You mean, who would break into your home to steal a few of your used underwear, o-or like your old t-shirts? Right, that's insane! You didn't think you were too interesting to be stalked; god you need to take a break from reading Yandere stories.

You shook your head and scoffed at yourself as you left your apartment, locking the door before you walked to work.

The room was purged in an eerie silence until suddenly loud, unsettling static screamed out of your left open switch. The lights of your apartment flickered rapidly as the sound seemed to grow louder when everything turned off, pitching the entire apartment building into darkness.

Toji stood in front of your twin-sized bed, running his hand over the imprint in the mattress when the light flicked on. He inhale shakily as the tips of his fingers traced the slight dip as memories flood his sick head, the nights he lay behind you his hands on your tits, pawing and squeezing them in his palms before he abandoned one breast as he runs his hand down your body to your warm cunt but just before he touched you there. He stopped. He couldn't. He wanted you to be awake to feel his love.

Toji stepped back, pushing the memory away as he moved around the small place you called home.

Shamrock orbs tailed around the quiet space, taking in the half-clean and half-messy state until they found the object of their desire. Toji walked in the direction of his favorite item, and without much thought, he snagged a pair of used panties from the laundry basket and buried his nose in the worn fabric. A deep rumbling groan escaped his chest and his eyes flattered shut. The scent of your old musky still clung to it, and he inhaled it like it was the most intoxicating, sweet smell. To him. It was. It was the essence of his goddess, his doll. The one who helped him see the value of life.

Without you, he'd never have broken away from his cured reality, who always seemed so eager to see him and..that white-haired punk. Toji shook his head, disgusted at the thought of the other man, and instead filled his mind with you. Toji spent the rest of the time you were gone to learn more and, of course, returned to the game after picking some trinkets along the way.

The game was starting to get a little weird. At first, it was normal. You'd interact with Toji, your in-game father none the wiser of the relationship between his daughter and best friend, then you'd hang out with your college classmate and friend Gojo. When you begin to notice every time you played with Gojo, a small chibi in the form of toji would peek around the corner of the screen every once in a while. Then it became more disturbing. You couldn't find the blue-eyed male anywhere; almost like he was completely deleted from the game.

On top of that, the older man would say and ask things that were too specific and too possessive. One day, he'd ask you where you went and who you were with when you suddenly had to leave your switch at home because of a family emergency. He'd go on about how he was your true love, and you simply thought maybe he was programmed that way, but it was no less creepy. You eventually just decided to take the day off from playing.

You woke up with a jump and groaned. Your phone vibrated and pinged with your chosen notification sound constantly. "Ya gonna answer me dollface?" A guff, baritone voice spoke in the empty room, and with a small scream, you slammed your back against the wall your bed was pushed against. Scanning hecticly for any human form.

"Over here." The voice spoke, closer than you heard the first time and to your right. Looking to your bedside table, sat your phone, lit up with an unnerving light; you picked it up with a shaking hand, and a cold dread settled within your stomach as Toji stared back at you with a small smirk, his eyes dark with such intensity. "There ya are. Hi, doll." His smirk widens at your terrified expression. "H-how?" Your voice cracked with fear, how was this possible? This couldn't be real; this only happened in movies! But apparently fucking not.

"Don't know myself, but that not 'mportant. You thought you could just ignore me? Doll this doesn't work that way." his smirk faded, and without warning, your phone suddenly flew out of your hand, crashing to the floor, and a blinding light overtook the space, blurring your vision. Once your vision came back, the beefy man stood before you, his eyes bore into you.

That was only the beginning of the nightmare that became your life. You were trapped in a place you once thought that nothing bad could happen to you as long as you lived there. Toji never let you leave his sight, food and other stuff you needed were ordered and brought to your door. Your phone and other devices were completely contorted by the man who currently seemed to watch your every move like he was taking you in. Many times, you tried to escape, but you came to the knowledge that although Toji could sleep, the moment your feet would touch the floor, Toji's eyes opened and, in a sleepy voice, asked where you were going. He was a light sleeper, that's just your damn luck.

Maybe...there was a chance you could tire him out enough he was knocked out cold, giving you enough time to escape. Now you were no virgin, you had your fair share of sex, so you thought it would be a piece of cake. Oh, how laughable.

Toji's thick digits, curled and pushed against that gushy spot in your spongy core, and his palm smacked against your poor, rubbed raw clitoris as you desperately tugged at his cock. You cried out as your head was pulled back by the strands of your hair. "There she is. C'mon on, doll, look at 'er," He whispered against your ear as he forced you to look into the mirror, his grip tightening as your pussy clenched. In the reflective glass, you look just as wrecked as you felt. Lidded eyes stared back at you as you took everything in, your hair was pulled into a ponytail by the man behind you, three of his fingers thrust into your puffy cunt, and squirts of slick jutted out to cover your thighs, his palm, and the floor. One of your hands holds onto his arm, and the other slides up and down his cock.

"ain't she the fuckin' prettiest?" Toji bit your earlobe as he no longer thrusted but began to shake his digits rapidly against your walls. You screamed as you violently came, clear liquid spraying out, drenching Toji's palm that rubbed your clit as he continued to finger you. Your hips jerked, your legs shook, and tears cascaded down your face; you looked like a slutty mess in the mirror.

"Fuuuck!" You hissed in pain, your hands barely catching yourself as your knees sit the hard wooden floor; the only thing that held you up, that being Toji's arm, was ripped away. Yet you had no time to truly feel the pain in your kneecaps as your locks yanked backward, training your orbs onto the man in all his naked glory, his strawberry pink tip wept pre-cum and the owner of such a beautiful tip, fisted his dick as he growled and snarled until he let out a groan and pearly, spurts of semen painted your face, to your cheek, nose, and chin.

"Fuckin' hell, doll," Toji panted, "s' beautiful covered in me." He wiped his seed off your chin with his thumb and spread it on your lip like a gloss, and without thought your tongue traced your bottom lip, tasting his cum. Earning yourself a pretty groan before you were pulled up from the ground and onto your wobbly legs. "Toji-i can't." You stuttered, your back hitting the mattress, crawling up the bed in a fertileless attempt to worm from his grasp, but his hands gripped your hips and pulled your back til your ass laid on his thighs, "T-too sensitive. Please." You begged basically to a wall.

"ya can handle me, my doll can handle anythin'." He cooed, his thumb rubbing the dip of your hip as his other hand, took the base of his member and lined up with your cunt. "Toji-plea-" your words were cut as you screamed, his fingers dug into your neck and his thick length buried itself in your snug pussy

"Mmmm..Shiiiit babydoll!" Toji laughed as he stared down at where he disappeared into you, slowly drawing his hips back, "She's squeezin' me, nugh..think she's lovin' my dick." Toji's wicked green eyes glanced up, and with a nasty grin he snapped his hips, and your mouth dropped as you openedly moaned, tossing your head back against the pillow. Your thighs were pushed to the side as The older man put all his weight onto you and used it to drill you into the mattress. "You..mmfuck like this? Betcha do, takin' my cock like a champ." He chuckled, groaning at the end as your pussy clenched at his words. You babbled in denial and shook your head. You didn't want to give him an even bigger ego, but you couldn't help the mewl that left your lips as his fingers squeezed the sides of your neck and his other fingers entangled in your hair, "Don't fuckin' lie to me, girl." He sneered, his heaving chest against your smashed breast as his hips snapped, not missing a step behind him, "Jus' let me make that..fuck..pretty pussy cum." He lowered his voice, almost like he was begging you, as he gently kissed your chin, his hand letting go of your hair and his grip loosening around your neck.

You nodded desperately, you gave up on pretending like you weren't losing your mind from this pleasure, and the way it felt his cock felt was in your tummy, or the pleasurable stinging of his hefty ball smacking against the carve of your ass. The softness in Toji melted away like it was just a show, an act, and a wicked, nasty grin was your one warning. His beefy biceps wrapped around your thighs, and he stood up. Your shoulder was the only thing besides your head that stayed on the bed. The echo of your ass smacks against his hips, the wet, squelching echo as he rapidly pounded your slick drooling cunt, the cream of your sex and his pre-cum that framed his base, and the new punishing angle was all it took. You came, your slick gushing down your body.

"Mmfuc..you're milkin' me baby doll." Toji moaned, his cock throbbed as he stilled to a stop as his cum flooded your womb and walls. You had a second to catch your breath before Toji resumed his brutal fucking.

Your eyes slowly open, adjust to the darkness of the room and turn to Toji, the said man in question, lying beside you, sleeping peacefully after multiple rounds, and yet somehow, someway, you were conscious; maybe someone was rooting for you out there. Inhaling you softly planted your feet on the cool wood and lifted your weight. Not a single stir.

Hope gripped your chest as you quietly put on the clothes you wore that were fling when you seduced Toji. Every cautious step towards the door was like you could finally breathe, and once you touched the handle of the door and twisted it open, you could taste your freedom.

Burly appendages wrapped around your stomach, and you yanked away from the door, ripped away from your only chance at escape. "LET ME GO!!" You screamed and thrashed in his arms. "Ya thought I was stupid? Huh?" He grunted as he tightened his hold as you doubled your efforts. "DAMN IT LISTEN TO ME!!" Toji yelled, turning you around. "N-" you tried to scream, to call for help, do anything, but all you could do was stare up at Toji in shock after your body barreled onto the floor by the force of his slap. "You think I'm dumb? You showed no sign of sexual arousal to me until now. Ya thought I wouldn't have known you were gonna pull some shit like this after we fucked?!" He sneered, pulling you onto your feet by your arm, his other hand on your back.

"You ain't leavin' me," Toji vowed. The low static sound that hung in the background became louder as the light bulbs flickered. "I'll make sure of that." The screening static grew more deafening until it all stopped; the bright light of your switch faded away, and no later did it slam shut.

Locking you from the real world forever.

@ilovewriothesley, @scratkount , @tojishugetiddies, @shyartnerd564, @blobkvna, @1800imgay, @plsthinkabtme @karla91663, @pierrotandsam , @miau-ficreader, @tojispepperonis, @darkstarlight82, @crimbabyops , @verlhfghhy, @xxmaddhatter39xx , @grima4lurking, @littlesealpup

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

if you’re looking for stevie requests can i suggest eddie having to come to terms with steve and reader getting married/announcing theyre expecting and seeing how good he treats her compared to how eddie treated her when they were together (eddie was a fuckboy.

Request by anon.

Angst and fluff. Happy ending for reader.

Steve Harrington x Reader/Past Eddie Munson x Reader.

I'm not going to lie, I flew through writing this. It was just what I needed (to write some angst and sweet Steve content) and the story just flowed out so fast.

❤️

Eddie didn't regret many things in life but losing you was the one that would stick with him for the rest of his life.

He should have treated you like a princess, instead he treated you like shit. It took a while for him to admit it, he strung you along and made you think his feelings were deeper than what they actually were.

In reality he was a typical fuckboy and messed around with your heart.

He was arrogant and cocky, assuming that you would never leave him. He dated other women and never gave a thought to how much it would hurt you.

Eddie assumed that he could come back and forth into your life when he felt like it, indulge in some great sex and then leave.

Then one day he decided to look you up while he was in town after being away for a little while.

Sometimes he travelled with Corroded Coffin doing gigs up and down the country, so when he ended back in Hawkins he figured he'd visit you and have some fun.

You can imagine his shock when he turned up at your house and Steve fucking Harrington answered the door, he was just in a towel and was smiling like the cat had got the cream.

"Harrington? What the fuck are you doing here?" Eddie snaps and there's a sinking feeling in his chest, a sense of knowing what's happening before anything is even said.

"Visiting my girl. What are you doing here Munson? If you're here for any booty call then I'm afraid you'll be disappointed" Eddie is silent for a moment and is about to speak when he hears you calling Steve's name.

You appear at the stairs beaming at Steve, the smile slips from your face when you meet Eddie's gaze.

"Back again huh? What's it been six months since I last heard from you Munson? I don't know what you think I am but I'm not an idiot...or maybe I was but not anymore. I'm with Steve and he treats me right, much better than you ever did. I suggest you leave"

He's stunned by your admission and looks to Steve who's gazing at you with complete love in his eyes. Shit...

The thing is the same love is mirrored in your eyes as you gaze back at Steve, the sight leaves Eddie feeling vaguely sick. He backs away from the door and practically high tails it away.

When he leaves Hawkins later that week, he's sure the next time he comes back this little fling of yours with Steve would be over.

Turns out he couldn't be more wrong.

❤️

Dustin is the one who tells him that you and Steve have gotten married. Steve has proposed on your one year anniversary and the two of you had gotten married in a small ceremony with just close friends and family.

To say it was like a punch to his gut was an understatement. By that time it had been almost a year and a half since Eddie had seen you and when he went back to Hawkins for his usual visit, he expected that you and Steve would be over.

He didn't expect you would be married.

It was hard to see you around town with Steve. You looked so happy and it was finally dawning on Eddie that he had lost something special.

A little while after the wedding you announced that you were pregnant. Uncle Wayne had passed on the news and gave Eddie a look of severe disappointment. Oh Wayne was delighted for you and Steve but he was pissed at Eddie and Eddie didn't blame him.

His uncle had warned him not to mess you around, that you could be special if Eddie just gave you a chance and stopped messing around.

Boy did Eddie regret not listening to the old man. Regretted every way that he had broken your heart and stomped on it and there was no way he could fix things or even hope to win you back.

Because Steve treated you right. Treated you a princess and doted on you. He made you smile and laugh instead of making you miserable.

It was Eddie's fault that he lost you and now he had to deal with the reality of that. You had truly moved on and Eddie was left with an aching heart.

If only he had treated you like a princess instead of treating you like a fool.

It turns out that he was the biggest fool of all for losing you.

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

As much as Yuu tried, she still ended up in trouble in trouble sometimes. Be it with Ace and Deuce, or just running late from acting as Crowley’s unofficial gopher, it was something. The punishments usually weren't that bad though, sometimes even relaxing.  

Like right now, it was a little bit of a trip down memory lane as she scrubbed the statues down on Main Street. It was odd, having the dreams that she did that painted the Great 7 in shadows instead of light, but it felt...right. Balanced.  

A story about a maid who would be going to a ball was the current dream cycle, though she didn’t get the feeling this one was going to relate to any upcoming overblots. While they didn’t happen as often, she occasionally just dreamt of things like this. While there was a lot to ruminate over, like the stepmother and Professor Trien, right now it was just a catchy little song sung by the fairy stuck in her head.  

“Put it together-” The King of Beasts statue wasn’t in bad shape at least, “and what do you got-” Just had to get the moss out of his eye, “Bippity Boppity Boo!” 

The eye blazed green, cracking open with a clap of thunder!  

Yuu fell, catching herself with her hands. Shit! Did she break it? Damnit, she couldn’t afford- 

Wait. It looked fine. Just a wet statue.  

“Maybe I just need to finish this up.” She muttered. “Lack of sleep must be getting to me.”  

The atmosphere had changed, the tension of a storm about to break open. As she finished the King of Beasts, she clocked her progress and ran, feeling like eyes followed her until she turned the corner.  

Malleus must be in a mood, she thinks, watching the dark clouds forming and the green smoke that seems to be spilling out the fence of Ramshackle. It isn’t the right shade of green though, more muted and not as...saturated? The gate creeks ominously and it doesn’t take her long to notice the figure sitting on the porch of Ramshackle.  

He is hunched over, a shawl tossed over his head that was once bright with color and design, now faded to grays, browns and darker reds like blood. His left eye is as green as the Diasomnia mage crystals, clear and unclouded, and the right faded as the green smoke around him. A gnarled staff is gripped in his hands, a gourd tied to the top with a handful of what might be rib bones along with some sort of dried fruit she thinks.  

This isn’t a harmless man, her instincts can say that much, but...he doesn’t feel like a threat. He could be. He’s choosing not to.  

“How can I help you?” Yuu asks, getting a bit closer. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Are you a teacher here?”  

He chuckles, making the pointed beard shake, but it’s not cruel. “I suppose that depends on you. I think you are in need of a teacher. And I am in need of a place to stay.” 

“What do I need to learn?”  

“Magic.”  

“Ha!” Yuu can’t help it, barking a laugh. “You are mistaken. I have no magic of my own.” 

“No, cub, you have magic, just not Wonderland magic. You have the Old magic, older even than General Lilia, the same as I. These teachers cannot help you, but I can.”  

He removes the shawl’s hood from his face, revealing a pair of brown lion ears and a mane that puts Yuu’s hair to shame. Even braided in parts to keep it out of his face, the long black hair stretches all the way down to his curved spine. A tail thumps against the dusty steps,  

“Afterall, you freed me, didn’t you?”  

It takes some explaining, a quick meal shared on her dining room table that feels even more rundown than usual with actual royalty sitting down. Thank the Seven that Grim was asleep beforehand, his new Spelldrive practices tiring him out in the evenings.  

“So, are the others...the same? Petrified?”  

“Yes, though you aren’t ready to free us all just yet. I was an accident, correct?” 

She flinches, nodding. “I mean, I guess? Sometimes I have dreams. Alternate tellings of the stories around here it feels like, or added details? Most of the time they follow an Overblot, but this one just felt like a non-threatening one. I don’t have these as often.”  

“Precognition is a dangerous magic, especially with no guiding tools.” 

“I dont know if-” 

“You dreamt of mine, did you not? Leona Kingscholar? The Phantom still was a part of me, drawn from my form and magic.”  

Yuu blinked, shrugging. “I mean, it didn’t stop it.” 

“No, but you were more prepared. You were willing and ready to accept Leona’s trauma and show compassion because you witnessed me make the exact follies and look at how that ended.” he huffed, taking a sip from his water. 

She hadn’t considered that really. It just felt natural, to show them kindness after all of it. But they were alike. Really alike. And the actions Leona had taken paralleled his perfectly.  

“Do you think if somebody had done so with you, you would have listened?” 

“Oh cub!” He laughed, and this one felt harsher. “I would not have. I was far too hardened. But Leona...he will be better.”  

“Well, I better try and at least get a bed ready for you.” She said, taking both of their dishes. “What do I call you though? King of Beasts is a bit of a mouthful.”  

He tilts his head, as if considering. She gets the dishes loaded and leftovers put away before he finally answers.  

“Taka. My Mother’s Son.” he says. “That’s who I wish to be now.”  

Yuu smiles, sticking out her hand.  

“Nice to meet you, Professor Taka! I look forward to learning from you.”  

For just a moment, he sees Simba, and Nuka and Kovu and Vitani. He sees Shenzi, Banzai and Ed. He sees naive and friendly and believes in him, for as little he has to offer, and still finds him worthy.  

He shakes her hand and hangs his stone heart to air out.  

[anniebeemine]

Hi!! I love love loveeee your writing and characterisation of Spencer, so firstly, thank you for your fics!! I just read your most recent dad!Spencer oneshot and thought it was so wholesome 🥹 If it’s not too much to ask, I would love to please see some more dad!Spencer oneshots? Perhaps a part two of Reid meeting his daughter’s new boyfriend and ‘interrogating’ him or something? Or maybe Spencer taking his daughter to her first day or Preschool/Kindergarten please? Honestly whatever you have in mind would be great though, thank you! ☺️ <3

eeee I was hoping someone would ask for a second part!! (I'll put up a first day of school fic soon, don't worry)

The doorbell chimed, and Spencer’s entire posture stiffened as if the sound itself had startled him. His eyes shot toward the front door, hyper-focused, as though preparing for some kind of imminent threat. You glanced over, catching the way his fingers twitched slightly at his side, clearly itching to intervene.

Before Spencer could take a single step toward the door, Eliza appeared in the hallway, hands planted on her hips, her stance radiating the kind of confidence he knew all too well. Her brow was furrowed in that familiar way—just like yours when you were focused, determined. Her lips pressed into a tight line, the same way his did when he was deep in thought.

For a split second, Spencer didn’t see the poised young woman standing before him. Instead, he saw her as she once was—a five-year-old with her hair in uneven pigtails, wobbling around the kitchen in oversized rain boots, standing on tiptoe to argue with him about bedtime. The fierce, unyielding look in her eyes was the same, but back then, it had been over cookies and bedtime stories.

Now, it was about a boy. He can't believe how fast time has passed.

“Dad, absolutely not,” she declared, shaking her head with authority far beyond her years.

Spencer blinked, momentarily taken aback. “But I just—"

“Nope. You’re not answering the door,” she cut him off, wagging a finger. “You’ll scare him off before he even gets inside.”

He opened his mouth to protest again, but before he could say another word, you stepped in, grabbing his arm and dragging him gently but firmly toward the kitchen. “C’mon, hotshot. Let her handle it,” you murmured, shooting him a look of reassurance as you pulled him away from the front of the house.

Spencer let out a soft, disbelieving huff, clearly not convinced. He leans against the counter, finger tips drumming against his thighs. “I am relaxed,” he muttered defensively, though the tightness in his voice betrayed him. His arms folded across his chest, his usual calm demeanor fraying at the edges.

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a teasing smile as you leaned against the counter. “You’re about as relaxed as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, Spencer.”

He cast you a sideways glance, but there was no denying the small smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. Still, his eyes flickered back toward the front room, clearly still straining to hear what was going on.

From down the hall, you could hear the door creak open, followed by Eliza’s voice, bright and welcoming. She greeted someone, and then—there it was—the low murmur of Ethan’s voice. The boy who was about to take your daughter on her first official date.

Spencer’s jaw clenched almost imperceptibly. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, likely cataloging every possible scenario, every reason this might not go well. Before he could spiral further, Eliza appeared in the doorway, pulling Ethan gently behind her.

“Mom, Dad, this is Ethan,” she said with a proud smile, stepping aside so the boy could step forward.

Ethan, for his part, looked understandably nervous but managed to hold his composure. He gave a polite smile, extending his hand first to you, then to Spencer. “Hi, Dr. Reid. Mrs. Reid. It’s really nice to meet you both.”

You smiled warmly, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you too, Ethan.”

When Spencer’s turn came, you noticed how his grip was just a touch firmer than necessary. He sized the boy up quickly—taking in the pressed shirt, the well-groomed hair, the slightly shaky but genuine smile. Ethan seemed harmless. Polite. Inoffensive.

Which, of course, made Spencer even more suspicious.

“Nice to meet you, Ethan,” Spencer said, his voice even, but his eyes were practically dissecting every aspect of the boy.

Ethan shifted nervously under his gaze. “Would you like to help us finish up lunch?”"

You waved a hand, brushing it off. “No, no, you two go ahead and sit in the dining room. We’ve got it covered. We'll tell you when it's ready."

Eliza, sensing her father’s growing intensity, tugged Ethan’s sleeve. “Come on, Ethan. Let’s get out of here before Dad starts quizzing you.” She shot Spencer a look. "We can go play that game I was telling you about."

Ethan chuckled nervously but followed her lead, casting one last glance over his shoulder at you and Spencer before disappearing into the basement.

Once they were out of earshot, Spencer let out a long, exaggerated sigh, and you couldn’t help but laugh, leaning back against the counter. “You need to stop worrying. He seems like a perfectly nice kid.”

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, his brow still furrowed as he processed the whirlwind of events. “That’s exactly what worries me,” he muttered, glancing toward the dining room where Ethan and Eliza had disappeared. “He’s too nice. I mean, did you see him? Clean haircut, polite, wearing a button-up shirt—what teenage boy wears a button-up shirt to meet his girlfriend’s parents? It’s suspicious.”

You laughed again, shaking your head as you reached for a dishtowel to wipe your hands. “Spence, you’re overthinking this, as usual. Not every teenager is up to no good. And you wore a button up to meet my parents."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, his voice dry as he retorted, "I was 30. Not 16."

"Seventeen." You smiled at the way your husband tilted his head. "He's seventeen."

"Seventeen?!? He's too old for he-"

You grabbed his hands gently. "He turned seventeen three weeks ago." You ran your thumbs over his knuckles. "Only four weeks older than her."

Spencer’s mouth opened and closed, clearly struggling to find a counterargument. His brow remained furrowed, the wheels in his mind turning faster than ever. Spencer grumbled under his breath, crossing his arms. “I am relaxed,” he insisted again, though his expression said otherwise. He looked like someone about to be interrogated rather than a father sending his daughter off on a date.

You rolled your eyes and playfully swatted him with one of the throw pillows from the nearby chair. “Yeah, that face just screams relaxed.”

He gave a weak smile, wrapping an arm around your waist as you leaned into him. His other hand fumbled in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a few crumpled bills and a quarter.

“What are you doing?” you asked, already guessing the answer.

Spencer called out for Christina, and in a moment, your younger daughter shuffled into the room, her eyes glued to her tablet as she focused intently on some puzzle game. She barely looked up as she entered.

“Chris,” Spencer began, holding out the money, “I’ll give you six dollars and a quarter if you go downstairs and keep an eye on your sister for me. Just… don’t let her know I sent you.”

Christina’s eyes finally lifted from the screen at the mention of cash. She glanced at the money in his hand, then back to her game. It didn’t take long for her to decide. “Deal,” she said flatly, snatching the money and pocketing it without a second thought.

She trudged off, her tablet still in hand, already focusing back on the screen as she headed toward the basement.

Once she was out of sight, you shot Spencer a look, biting back a grin. “That was pure evil.”

Spencer shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m just being thorough.”

You shook your head, a laugh escaping your lips as you leaned into him. “You’re hopeless. You know that, right?”

He smiled, pulling you closer, and for a moment, there was a comfortable silence between you two. Then, from downstairs, you heard the muffled sound of voices. Eliza’s voice, clearly annoyed.

“What are you even doing down here?” she snapped.

“The living room is for all of us to live,” Christina replied flatly. “And… I’m living. Also you made my lose my game, so you suck.”

You stifled a laugh, listening as the tension downstairs continued to simmer.

“Mom!” Eliza’s voice carried up the stairs. “Tell Christina to mind her own business!”

Without missing a beat, you called back, “If you’re not doing anything you shouldn’t be, Christina won’t bother you!”

Spencer chuckled, clearly amused, and you gave him a playful side-eye.

“I’m not encouraging it,” you insisted, though your smile gave you away.

Spencer just grinned, pulling you closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I didn’t say a word.”

[paulyenvol6]

Byka Atroksia (Chapter 7)

Contains: toxic dynamic between sisters

Wordcount: ~2.91k

Masterlist of this story

The sun was tickling your skin and you yawned with an open mouth. It was late, you could sense that by feeling how warm the sun was already shining down on you but it was no surprise that you had woken up so late after your activities last night. You had been exhausted after Daemon had brought you to your room and as soon as your head had hit the pillow your mind had been far away.

You turned to your other side and sighed at the comfortable feeling of your blanket cozily wrapped around your body. Just when you felt your mind drifting away again, the door was opened and you jumped surprised. Rhaenyra confidently walked in your room and stared at you with glistening eyes.

"Good morrow, little sister.", she spoke loudly and you frowned.

"Rhaenyra. What – " Your sister smiled self – determined and grabbed your blanket to pull it back. You cried out and buried your head in the pillow.

"No. Please, Rhae.", you whined but your sister didn’t have mercy with you.

"It is almost noon, sister. Is it your plan to stay in bed all day?" You shook your head and Rhaenyra could only see a nest of unkempt hair moving slightly from left to right.

"Get up now. Because WE have plans." You slowly turned your head and looked at her from the corner of your eye.

"What plans?", you mumbled and Rhaenyra smirked. "We’re going for a ride on Syrax." You frowned and bit on your lower lip.

"Are we?", you asked uncertainly and Rhaenyra laughed loudly. "Yes."

The reason you were so confused was because your sister used to not let you near her dragon. Not because she was scared Syrax would hurt you, no, it was a little more complicated.

Syrax' egg had been put in Rhaenyra’s cradle when she was a babe and in Targaryen tradition the same had happened to you. Sunwave had accompaigned you since you were born and you had loved your dragon ever since. She had been black with beautiful orange eyes and from the moment you had been allowed to, you had loved to spend your time on her back.

But as destiny wanted it, your dragon had gotten sick when you had been only 11 years old. Your family guarded and protected your dragons as if they were sacred so it rarely happened that a dragon got sick but in Sunwave’s case the dragon fever had caught her. You cried many tears for her, stayed by her side and enjoyed every moment you had with her, but after a year nothing could help your beloved dragon anymore and she died in a stormy night.

Of course you had been devasted and griefed for you dragon a long time. Your father, who had deeply felt for you had ordered Rhaenyra to stay by your side and even though she partly did so, she hated to let you near Syrax. The King had suggested to your sister to take you on her dragon some time so you were distracted and could at least be around a dragon now and then to help you with your grief but Rhaenyra hadn’t liked that. She now had something you didn’t and wasn’t going to let that go so quickly. She had a dragon and you didn’t. And even though she felt sorry for your loss, she simply didn’t want to let you take part in her possessions.

So when the two of you were standing in front of Syrax, Rhaenyra had climbed on her and had flown away without taking you with her. She had just glared at you and forbid you to ever approach her dragon without her. Rhaenyra had felt powerful, superior, better and she enjoyed the feeling too much to help you with your suffering. It was also something that she had used in your fight for Daemon’s attention. Daemon had Caraxes, she had Syrax and you… had nothing. Rhaenyra sometimes used to go fly on Syrax with your uncle on his dragon while you stood on the ground watching them sadly. Rhaenyra and Daemon had been able to bond over their dragons while you still had to process your dragon’s death.

But you definitely couldn’t accuse your uncle of not having been there for you. He was with your father the person that had helped you the most through this horrible time. A few days after Sunwave had died you had stood on the balcony outside the red keep, staring at the sky with tears streaming down your face as if you had been trying to find her in the sky. You hadn’t heard Daemon approach you but then had been pulled into a hug. He had just hold you, stroke your back and listened to you crying and then had taken you on a stroll through the garden.

At first you had been silent, thinking the second you’d open your mouth you would start sobbing again but then you had felt the need to speak. "It is not fair.", you had said, your lips pressed together and Daemon had taken your hand. "It’s not fair.", he had spoken and the words had gushed out of you.

You had told him about all the times you had sat on Sunwave’s back, dug out every memory you had of her and Daemon had simply listened while holding your hand. And he would sit with you by the sea, just staring at the waves crashing against the rocks without saying anything. He would read you from the old books in the library in the keep about Sunwave’s ancestors. He would go to the altar you had built for her on Dragonstone with you. He had known what you might want and need during that time and had said just the right things. It had seemed like, having a dragon himself he genuinly had felt for you and had been sad about Sunwave’s death.

The two of you had gone to Caraxes together and different to Rhaenyra, Daemon had let you touch him, had taken you with him on his dragon's back so you could find a little comfort in it. But that again had made Rhaenyra mad and she had been even more unwilling to let you near her dragon so she could make you feel excluded from her and Daemon. It had been exhausting and difficult but you couldn’t be angry at Rhaenyra about it. She had been a little girl, 14 years of age and you knew how irrational and angry one could be at that age. And she seemed to be more good-willed now so you smiled widely at her.

"I would actually love to.", you answered her shyly, scared that she would change her mind if you appeared too excited but Rhaenyra just held out her hand. "Come on."

~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later your hands tightly held on to Rhaenyra as the two of you flew through the air. You had your hands wrapped around her waist and your chin on her shoulder. It had been a while since you had sat on a dragon and felt a little shaky but nethertheless, you loved it.

"Wuhuu.", you screamed against the heavy wind and your sister laughed out loud. "Hold tightly on to me, Vhaela. Be careful, alright? Father is going to kill me if I don’t bring you back down safely.", Rhaenyra said loudly and you tightened your grip. "Yes, I’m safe."

You closed your eyes and felt the wind in your hair. You hadn’t known how much you missed being on a dragon’s back. Daemon had taken you with him on Caraxes quite a few times but it had been some time since he last did. How a dragon moved so elegantly and smoothly through the sky… It was truly magical and you wished you could experience it more frequently.

"It’s amazing, Rhae.", you shouted against the loud wind and excitedly squeezed your sisters waist. Rhaenyra slightly turned to you and grinned. "I know."

Her hair was blown into your face and you couldn’t see so well but you didn’t care. You just wanted to save this moment and relive it over and over again. The keep looked so small from so far above the ground and you could see all the little houses that you usually only saw from inside.

A little later, Rhaenyra and you landed with Syrax on Dragonstone. You also hadn’t been to your ancestral’s seat for a while and smiled when you saw the high walls. But the two of you weren’t there to go inside, no, you laid down in the soft grass by the sea next to each other and stared at the sky.

"Hach…", Rhaenyra sighed and closed her eyes. She looked so pretty with the sun shining down on her face. A few freckles were slightly visible on her nose and her lips were drawn into a smile. No wonder every lord in the Seven Kingdoms wanted to take her as wife. Not only was she the heir to the Iron Throne, no her enchanting beauty was visible to everyone with eyes and she would bear some lord’s beautiful children one day.

Rhaenyra opened her left eye and suspiciously looked at you. "What?"

"Nothing.", you quickly said and looked away from your big sister. Rhaenyra closed her eye again and inhaled the fresh air.

"It’s a beautiful day, sister. I only hope it won’t get too windy here, Syrax doesn’t like that." Then she opened her eyes again and turned her head to you.

"But by the way, do you what happened today? At the small council meeting?" You shook your head and caught her gaze.

"The hand…", Rhaenyra giggled and held her hand in front of her mouth. "You know that father wanted to betroth Vaegon to the Tyrell girl. In order to strenghten our houses‘ bonds or whatever.", she rolled her eyes. "But now they seemed to have changed their minds. At least Niclas Tully has. They want to marry Jaehaerys to her."

Rhaenyra snorted with laughter and you joined in. Your sister was the King’s cup bearer so she often told you about the latest discussions and scandals that she heard about during the small council meetings.

"I don’t know who to feel more sorry for. Probably the Tyrell girl. I only hope Jaehaerys will get a new haircut before bedding the poor girl." You laughed again.

Jaehaerys was their cousin and your sister and you both couldn’t stand him. He was… odd and you didn’t know how to talk to him. He wanted to wear his hair short different to a lot of the family members but it always looked as if he neglected his appearence as it was not long enough to be called a long haircut but not short enough to look good either. And Rhaenyra was convinced that Jaehaerys always had bad breath and she thought that his high Valyrian sounded terrible and someone should teach him properly.

Your sister now crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared at the sea again with a frown. "I don’t ever want to get married.", she spoke and you looked at her.

"But you will have to." "I know that I have to. I need to have an heir and… a King consort but I don’t know. The thought of having a child in my belly?" She looked down to her stomach and you laughed and poked her.

"I’d be happy to have little nieces and nephews.", you giggled and Rhaenyra sulked and poked you back.

"You’ll be with child soon after me, so do not make fun of me."

"I think I’m scared of the pain. When you give birth.", you then said. Rhaenyra looked like she was thinking and tore a blade of grass from the ground.

"But they all did it. Mother, aunt Bhaena, grandmother… It can’t be too horrible if Bhaena has had six children." You lifted your eyebrows.

"Well, she had to. It is her duty." Rhaenyra played with the grass stalk in her hand.

"Do you think being bedded hurts a lot?" Your heart sank into your belly and you felt your heart beat faster.

"Ehm I don’t know.", you spoke and hoped your voice wasn’t shivering. Rhaenyra didn’t seem to notice it and continued to stare at the grass in her hands.

"I simply heard things like this from other women. My handmaiden told me that she has lost her maidenhood on a boat. Not a ship, sister, a boat. Can you believe that?"

You grinned. "But why?"

"She told me that she had a lover once who she wanted to marry. She was deeply in love and wanted to spend every second with him but he was a fisher. He had to sail out in the ocean every morning and only return late at night. Well, Eranah, that’s her name, wasn’t content to only see him so late so… She started to get up early in the morning and go with him. Her lover told her that it was a mad idea and that she shouldn’t do it but she did it nevertheless. At 4 in the morning she stood by the dock, she told me. The other fishers couldn’t believe their eyes but she simply walked past them and got on the ship. They spent their days together even though he obviously still had to work. But Eranah was happy to see him more and then one day they coupled on a little jolly boat. They made love under the light of the moon."

You smiled and closed your eyes. "That sounds beautiful."

"I know. That’s true love, you know. And that’s what I’m never gonna get. Father is gonna find a match for me, probably some old ugly lord. Not someone I truly want to be with." Rhaenyra nibbled at her thumb and you watched the side of her face.

"You don’t know that."

Your sister turned to you and frowned. "Oh of course I know that. He’s never gonna let me find a match myself. And even if I was allowed to, how high are the chances that I’m gonna find someone who I love and who turns out to be a lord of a great house who father is gonna approve of? This marriage is set to strengthen the realm, not set to make me happy."

"But you should try at least. I think if you spoke to father he might agree to letting you search for a good match yourself. And who knows, maybe there is someone waiting for you out there.", you giggled and Rhaenyra pushed you away, chuckling herself. But then she got serious again.

"You can find your own match." You smiled and shook your head. "I can’t just marry anyone, Rhae. I wouldn’t be allowed to marry a lowborn either."

"But you can marry anyone else. As long as he is highborn." You grinned. "Do you think father would allow me to marry Jason Lannister?" Your sister grinned widely and you both started laughing.

"Fine, not anyone. But… you don’t have the responsibility to unite the realm with your match." You didn’t know what to answer to that and grabbed your sister’s hand.

"I’m sorry.", you eventually whispered. "I know that it is a burden, sister."

She smiled at you but it didn’t reach her eyes. "But perhaps you’re right. Maybe I will find myself a kind husband." She squeezed your hand and looked at you.

Then her gaze wandered down and she frowned.

"Is that a new necklace?", Rhaenyra asked and you looked down to the pendant glistening on your skin. Your sister reached out and grabbed the piece of jewellery that Daemon had gifted you and examined it closely.

"It’s pretty. Since when do you have it?" You didn’t look your sister in her eyes while saying your next words and instead looked at the pendant.

"Uncle gave it to me. When he came back from the Stepstones.", you mumbled trying to sound as indifferent as possible. You couldn’t see the look on Rhaenyra’s face.

"Ah.", she then said and let go of the pendant. "But when did he give it to you? You didn’t come with us to the dock."

"He came to see me shortly after.", you said quietly and stared at your fingers. Your sister nodded and you finally carefully lifted your gaze.

Her mouth looked a little tense and the smile had vanished and you felt like there was a weight on your heart. You just had had a peaceful and beautiful time with your sister and didn’t want to destroy it.

"Well, it looks a little like the one he has bought me for my last name day. Only that mine was of pure Valyrian steel.", Rhaenyra spoke and you felt this bad feeling spreading inside of you again. It was as if there was this spot inside your veins and whenever your sister and you had these kind of conversations and fights something poke that spot and this dark and viscious liquid leaked out of it and dispersed in your veins. It made your body feel heavy with negative thoughts and it instantly tired and hurt you. You gulped loudly. You didn’t want this, you didn’t want to start fighting like this again and so you swallowed the pain.

"I remember it. It had a sapphire on it, didn’t it?", you breathed.

"Yes.", your sister smiled wrongly and proudly looked at the waves crashing against the walls of Dragonstone.

[mookiesspace]

《《 𝑇𝑂𝑋𝐼𝐶 𝑃𝐴𝑅𝑇 2 》》

ony x black fem reader , implied cheating , strong language , smut , angst , toxic relationship , jealous ony , picture links , images in story , pov switch (reader to ony back to reader) , mdni 18+

a/n: this was sooo time consuming and I feel like I really did my one two on ts 😩 !! I hope the pov switch ain't confuse nb so that's why I put onys pov in green (when you get to the switch) & readers pov is in white ! && ony is represented with a "☆" above his pov while readers is "♡"

♡

**beep! beep! beep! bee-** the sound of your alarm before smacking it off. "shit.." you mumbled. you seriously didn't wanna get up after last night. damn what did happen last night for you to be so dam tired?? "damn 7:30 already? it's to damn early for this shit broo." you moaned forcing yourself outta bed while lazily dragging your body to the bathroom. looking in the mirror you sluggishly rub your eyes while your other hand ran your fingers thru your messy hair, slowly opening your big brow eyes to see your reflection in the mirror while getting ready to start your day.

"fuck.. why did i do that." sighing softly. right. you slept with ony again. why did this become such a natural thing?? why couldn't you just leave that stupid nigga alone, what was so hypnotizing about him that couldn't make you pull away?? walking to your messy bed you find a note lying on the dresser next to it reading 'sorry about last night mama, meet at 8 tonight so I can make it up to ya?' groaning at the note you quickly balled it up before tossing it into the trash. you had other things to focus on and worry about, other things excluding ony. he of all the was the last thing you needed to worry about yet along see. you were growing sick of the constant fighting and fucking all over the same shit, him being a no good cheating ass nigga. what you finally needed was a night out, a night to focus on you and your life damn well not his! you didn't belong to him, damn you ain't belong to anyone you're a boss bitch and you deserve better. and well all know you were gonna get it if it's the last thing you did!

"damnn bitch you i missed youuu!!" sasha squealed squeezing you tightly it had been forverr since you seen your girls sasha & mikasa and like always it was never a dull moment with the two "we missed you boo, how you been?" mikasa added pulling sasha off you. "shitt ion even know anymore," you giggled before taking a sip of your drink "I did fuck on ony last night tho.." you muttered "YOU WHAT BITCH??" "didn't he cheat on you? GIRL you need to sta-" "stay away from that no good ass nigga yes I know sasha. whatchu think I've been doing?" you groaned slouching onto the couch beneath you "clearly not good enough if you let him into yo panties." mikasa snickered at you an sasha's annoyance "don't laugh and help me!!" you whined only for mikasa to sigh loudly "I'm with sash on this one boo, ony's no good and you know that." "ughhh you two are so frustrating" groaning again as the two giggled with one another "let's just go out tonight hm? like we used to do! that'll get ya mind off him for sure" sasha implied. at first, going out sounded like a bad idea.. what if you ran into ony? what if he tried to talk to you and you gave in all over again?? what if- "cmon girl it's been forever!! pleaseeeee" your best friend begged. rolling your eyes while deeply sighing you gave in "ok ok. let's do it, I need a distraction anyways.." your friends cheered lovingly as they planned the entire night out but all you could think about is how badly you wanted ony still, you missed him. the old him.. him touch, his taste, his affection.. his everything. but that was over now, it's been over and now all you really needed was that night out. a night without thinking about anything but you and yo girls, a night without him.

"fuck I look good.." you muttered while looking in your tall bedazzled mirror. yeah you were bound to get some tonight and it wasn't gonna be with him that's for sure. you pull out your phone to post a pic on instagram posing in your big living room mirror, arching your back ever so slightly giving the perfect view of your round fat ass while lookin bad as fuck now waiting to link up with your girls for the best night ever.

☆

"yea bro ionk I for real miss ha" he sighed, taking a long hit of the blunt before passing it to his homeboy eren, man spreading as he pulls out his phone to browse her instagram. "damnn man, I mean I wouldn't be surprised if she ain't tryna fuck with you again." eren added, Connie snickering alongside him in response. "mann you ain't helpin. and shut yo ass up connie that's why she didn't want yo ugly ass" the man groaned, connie following with an irritated sigh before hitting the shared blunt. "not my fault you cheated, man you seriously fucked up & I ain't ugly ho" he replied with an eye roll. ony knew what the two were saying was true but he seriously didn't mean it, he got drunk and it jus happen.. it shouldn't of happen he knew that.. he shouldn't have went to that damn party, he shouldn't have fought with you that day. maybe if he just listened to you.. things would be back to normal.. well not anymore shit what is there left to redeem? everything was all fucked up- "DAMNNN" connie laughed, what was that nigga lookin at?? "oh shitt bro, you definitely ain't getting her back now" eren added, laughing with connie in response. "huh?" raising an eyebrow he snatches erens phone to see not only you at a party you had no business being at but your his ass backed up against that no good ass nigga jean. "hell na." he huffed growing irritated by the second before reaching for his own phone to text his babygirl..

the tall man gritted his teeth harshly, rubbing his fingers through his waves. "fuck wrong wit-" "I'm thinking." seconds pass with pure silence. Eren and Connie's suspension rose quickly before he spoke sternly. "ight pull up y/n location and let's go." "whatcu finna do crazy??" eren spoke, rising an eyebrow, connie nodding in agreement. "what I say?" the two men watch as their homeboy took off out the front door, clearly leaving to his car. "mannn, if he shoot up the place again, im go be pissed." "still wondering how he managed to cheat on ha and STILL be crazy about that girl." they both share a laugh before heading out the door themselves to follow behind ony.

♡

you scoff loudly, kissing your teeth in pure irritation. "jean babyyyy.." you speak softly into the man's ear, voice silk like smooth honey, running your long manicured nails up and down his neck. "what's up baby?" he spoke, big hands gripping at your waist ever so tightly sending shivers down your spine. "let's go somewhere more.. private.." standing you your tippy toes you lean into his ear while your hands explored his muscular body "she needs you baby.." that along made his dick grow hard, a sly smirk began to display on his face as he grabbed your hand and began walking with you through the crowd of people. safely making it twords a secluded area you hear your phone ding, you roll your eyes knowing the text was most likely from ony, or so you thought.. *ding!* *ding!* *ding!!* "damn mama who blowing yo shit up?" jean chuckled as he rubbed fat of your ass "no one it doesn't matter, let's go baby" you added, following along to the door moving yet through a crowd of people once again. the faster tou get outta here the fucking better you thought, just seconds after you feel a strong hand grip onto your wrist pulling you back "Hey!?! what the fuc-" words cut off once you were facing the one man you prayed not to run into tonight. Onyankopon.. "fuck you doin here?" he growled, looking up to see that you clearly weren't alone he scoffed, sucking his teeth as he looked the other man up and down "and you tryna leave this this pussy ass nigga?" laughing he rested his other hand on his forehead, licking hip plump pink lips, his gold grillz peaking out. You snatched your wrist away from him and rolled your eyes moving back towards Jean "we ain't together Ony, and last time I checked it wasn't yo damn business who I talk to or go with. I'm a grown woman" "yeah well you MY woman, so bring yo lil ass over here and let's go before shit stir up." he barked back, God you hated how he always had to say something you glared at him intensely, feeling the heat of the situation rise more and more. just before you could say something else to end things Jean let out a low laugh "fucks funny nigga." ony now glaring at jean, both men & you now slowly becoming the center of attention, what you didn't want tonight. "baby let's jus' go-" "funny how you claim she's yo girl, yet she here with me?" he spoke, a smirk appearing on his face as he looked directly at ony. shit, he's mad. really mad. you can see him clutching his fist while eyes you and him. "got nothing to say pussy? or are you just mad yo 'girl' ain't really yo-" BAM! before you knew it jean was knocked the fuck out on the ground, the crowd was filming and shouting all kinds of shit, all while you were being pulled away by Ony..

"s-shit! ony slow downnn AH!" your pretty little moans falling against deaf ears fuck why was he fucking you so rough? your wet pussy was clenching around him so tightly sending sparks and tingles right down to his already hard dick. "y-you always gotta show out, almost got that pussy ass nigga f-fucked up... shit.." he groaned, big hand sending harsh, firm slaps to your plump brown ass "ion give no fucks whatchu say mama, we gon' work thi shit out. ya hear me?" he grunts, low eyes shooting daggers at the back of your head. you can feel how hot the tension is but you can't focus, how long has it been?? your pussy is so stuffed and full you can barely speak as it is, head sinking down into the pillow you let out more shallow cries and moans, choking on your own tears and hiccups as his pace speeds up, and his thrusts deepen inside you "I'm talking to you girl." he's basically demanding a response, no. he IS demanding a response from you, sending more angry slaps to your fat ass he grabs you by the back of the neck pulling your limp body up against his "answer me." he demands, pussy clenching tighter against his thick dick your head hangs low "I- I can'ttt... ugahhh" you mumbled, words all twisted and fucked up worse than before. it feels so good, to damn good. he let's out a low chuckle before flipping you over on your back, grabbing ahold your neck before fucking you dumber "ian got no time for games mama you hear me?" thrusting harder than before at his last few words making you yelp "y-yes! fuckkkk onnyyy!!" you cry, you feel your stomach bubble and thighs tighten as he's deep in you, your soft gummy walls sending shivers down his spine making the pleasure better than it was before. he let's go of his tight grip around your neck, as you try catching your breath he pulls your body up hugging onto your smaller frame, your long nails now clawing at his back leaving all kinds of marks for whoever to see eyes crossing, toes curling and mouth slightly agape as drool pool out. he's biting his bottom lip, now gripping your ass even tighter, spanking it again roughly. "you look so beautiful mama.. I missed this." he moaned out, fuck it feels so good you thought. you're unable to even speak, still mumbling whatever mess can come out of your pretty little mouth. you can feel your body growing stiff as you're getting close to your realse. "Onnnyyyyyyy-" you whined out, nails digging into his back yet again. he let's out a low grunt "I know mama, I know." he's fucking you so deep it feel so surreal you can't help but shove your head into his broad shoulders while chasing after your soon sweet release. "I'm sooo closee.. f-fuckkkk onyy~" you moaned, sounding so fucking perfect, looking so fucking perfect he thought. "let it out mama.." and before you knew it, you feel your lower body burst, juices spilling everywhere coating the bed and yourselves in your sweet arousal, ony quickly following behind filling you up so deeply.. so lovingly. you both sigh heavily, nothing but short quick deep breaths and low groans filling the room as he lays you down, slowly pulling out of you watching his cum pour out only to take his tumb and stuff it all back in "this pussy is mine ma, don't do no shit like that again ya hear me?" he grumbled, low eyes staring into yours. "yes ony.." your response causing him to raise a brow "yes daddy." you spoke lowly, looking up at him with wide doe eyes as he smirks, smile growing into a sick grin allowing his grillz to appear once again.

your body feels heavy, you sit up picking up your phone to check the time and your group chat with your girls.

"shit." you mumbled, rubbing your head lightly only to feel a thick arm wrap around your waist "what's wrong, ma?" turning next to you to see ony still in bed eyes still closed as he yawned "nothin, jus' the girls.." "mhm" silence. your chest feels heavy as you ponder with your thoughts, lost at words as you stare at the tall man next to you. ony pulls your body closer, you falling down right next to him, his arm now fully wrapped around you as you lay together in silence. "look at me, mama." he mutters lowly, voice smooth and clear. you turn to look at him, big brown eyes staring at his now opened one's, you look so beautiful right now.. morning sunlight, hitting your beautiful brown skin, he takes his hand rubbing his thumb against your plush cheek, kissing it gently. "Ian go leave you," he whispers, cool morning rushing against your skin causing you to shake. you wanna believe him, you really do.. but how many chances do you have to give him before you're really close to nothing? "I love you, y/n. I mean that." your heart starts to beat faster than usual as your eyes swell up with tears. "Ony-" "Ma, I wanna make this right." It's all to much.. "I can't keep doing this immature ass shit, I hurt you, baby, trust me, I know. I have to live with that guilt every damn day. I wish ian do it, I really do but baby I promise it was a mistake. something that should've never happened. I miss you ma, I miss us.." there they are. salty tears run down your cheek, ony wipes them away as he pulls you closer hugging you tightly. "how do I know I can trust you Onyankopon? I don't wanna go through this shit anymore.." "You won't have to baby, I promise. I just need you to trust me.. trust that I'll make it right.." you hesitate before speaking, trying to collect your thoughts. he kisses your head lighlty squeezing you tighter "we all the time in the world, don't worry ma. no rush.."

[phamianaz]

destined

？▹ . ! college!hanni x biker!reader

？▹ . !! mention of abuse, violence, blood, vulgar language, angst, sensitive topic, fluff

？▹ . !!! you thought things would settle down for you, but you remember that life doesn't give a fuck about you at all.. maybe it does, just a little.

？▹ . !!!! i'm that type of author who just writes what she imagined and does not take the whole process of making the story flow good like most do cuz im just lazy 🦥 so just remember that this is just written without any proper process or whateves. ps. i feel like my endings r getting weird and like- i don't think it should be an ENDING??? like u get that feeling- idk. i talk too much 😔

m.list

"you're fucking unbelievable, y/n! don't you dare think that escaping me is a good way!"

your mother screamed furiously, running to you with a jar of milk to throw to your way as you ride your motor before revving loudly.

you scoff as the gate opens automatically for you the moment you pressed the green bottom just next to it.

"mom, cut the shit. you think screaming will solve everything? no, and this isn't gonna be solved soon if you keep screaming like a damn goat." you glared to her way, moving your motor forward before it was stopped by your mother, who desperately popped in front of you and trying to stop you.

you grimaced at the disgusting smell from her, "step out, mom! take a shower while i leave, will ya?! i'm not coming back anymore," you revved your motor again, trying to scare her with the loud sound.

it did scare her, yelling as she covers her ears with the jar of milk still in her hand.

"you asshole! fucking dickhead!" she curses you out, but it enters and leaves your ears as you finally leave the horrendous house.

as you ride away, you turn back to your mom at the distance and gave her a finger, ignoring her ear piercing screams and neverending cursing.

and you were out of that house, officially and never coming back ever again. arguments with your mother is turning horrible, violent and dangerous.

you honestly don't know why you, a 21 years old woman, are still living with your mother when you already have the capability to live independent.

but your mother apparently doesn't give a shit. claiming that she's your mother and you should be repaying her back for all the years she has taken care of you— you just did that.

you literally just paid everything for her. you gave her money, a house, a car, and a fucking land- isn't that enough to repay her? shouldn't she be glad that she has a house for herself?

you just couldn't believe her. she's acting so immature when you try to talk it out to her that you decided to live alone because you're all grown up and wanted a life for yourself.

but no, she decided to cry about it and yell at you for having the audacity to leave her alone just after having a wonderful job.

you can't believe the words that's leaving her mouth and honestly? you had enough.

did she forget the abuse and torture she caused? it left you scarred and traumatized to be even staying in the same house with her, but you bear with it because she's your damn mother.

but now, you're free, and thank the heaven, you were finally allowed to cry.

-

to take out your anger and stress, you cruised around until you got far far away from your mother.

stopping at every convenience store that you encountered, buying a drink and eat to ease your stress away, a cope to escape from reality until it turned midnight.

you checked the time, and it is almost 12 am, so you decided to just stay back at the 7-eleven store with a drink in your hand.

with your protection motor suit, you thought you'd be feeling sweaty and hot because of how thick it is, but thankfully, the night was a lot colder than usual.

you prefer a cold evening over a heat-stroking morning, and that's why you were feeling content right now as you took a sip of your drink.

after finishing your drink, you threw it into the trash can nearby and heads back to your yamaha motorcycle.

it was parked a bit far from the store, so you had to walk a little to get to your motorcycle. you didn't mind, since you enjoyed walking as much as you enjoy eating food and riding your big bike motorcycle.

it was a black yamaha r3— just a good one for you to use daily to work and back. you love it so much, and it became your baby basically.

too bad, you don't have a special someone who could be your company backpack to ride around, but..

you just don't mind at all. you love being alone most of the time, that's why.

as you had already sat on your bike comfortably to watch the countless stars spread out in the dark blue sky, the peace and warmth was finally engulfing you like a warm blanket.

no nagging and definitely no cursing towards you was heard.

you smiled, until you heard a short scream from a distance and your smile dropped to turn your head to where the sound came from.

coming from behind the store, you see a woman running frantically from a group of men who cursed and was holding a some sort of a weapon. a dangerous one at that, and there's five of them-

before you could process everything, the woman had already saw you and immediately rushed towards you, gripping onto your arm as she heaves unevenly and legs trembling badly. "p-please, help me!" she begs.

you could see tears in her eyes and the way her whole body trembling in terror and fear. you instantly stepped down from your motorcycle to cover the stranger from getting wacked by one of the gang's bat.

he harshly hit your head, though it was protected with your helmet, the impact was still stronger and you almost got stumbled onto the stranger before she caught you with a cry of worry. you grunt before raising your leg to kick the man and taking his bat as he falls to the ground with a curse with his gangs got furious.

"fuck.. you swing that bat real good, but i can crack your balls in just a second, boss." you glared through the tinted screen of your helmet, ignoring the pain on your head. the woman whimpered in terror behind you, gripping onto your clothes as she hides from the angry gang.

the larger man, who seem to be the leader, chuckle maliciously as he harshly pats his gang brother on his back, who was the one you just kicked earlier when he beats you with his bat. "you sound too feminine, so i'm assuming you're a woman,"

"yeah, no shit." you bit back, your grip around the bat handle tightened. the gang laughed mockingly at you, but you ignored it and slightly turned your head to the woman behind you, keeping your eyes on the men.

"call the police, i can't take them all by myself." you mumbled to her, voice loud enough just for her to hear. she quickly did as you told her, frantically taking out her phone and dials the police.

you turned back to the men, especially the leader.

"how about you leave us ladies alone, gentlemen?" you confidently said as you opened your screen to see them better, but they continued to laugh mockingly.

the bulky one beside the leader snorts, "sorry, beautiful lady- but we need that woman behind you. you see, she left something very bad to us.. and we were hurt, so we just wanted to teach her a lesson."

he gave you a disturbing smile, causing you to sigh tiredly, still hearing the stranger behind you mumbling to the phone. you take one step forward before you removed your helmet, revealing your bruised face that you got from your mother.

just purple bruise over your cheek and a swollen corner lip with a red cut.

"hey, what lesson are you shitting about? are you fucking kidding me, huh?" you cursed and gave your helmet to the stranger behind you before swinging your bat towards the leader who barely dodged your hit.

you hit his chin, causing him to wobble back and held his bleeding chin with a pained groan. his gang members suddenly turned aggressive and started running towards you, ready to teach you a lesson.

but all of the sudden, the sound of the siren was heard nearby and cops finally arrived.

"HEY! GET BACK HERE, MOTHER FUCKERS!" the gang, instead of rushing towards you, decided to run away from the cops, who cursed at them after what they had witnessed.

you and the stranger behind you stood there blankly, watching as the chase occurred. you wondered if they witnessed what you did to the man as well, but decided to let that go, as you instantly instructed the girl to wear your helmet.

confused, she obeyed and wore the helmet while you got on your bike before she followed suit. upon bringing up the stand and turning it on, you immediately dashed away out of the cops and gang's sight.

-

stopping in front of some random building, you pushed down the stand and the stranger behind you immediately scurries off the bike when she hears you gagging and heaving unevenly.

when she did, you followed suit with a little rush in your movement and instantly, bending to the side to vomit the contents from your stomach.

tears fell as the churning in your stomach was a bit painful for you to handle right now with all the stress.

"h-hey," she stutters, worried engulfed her as she helplessly watched you vomiting almost violently. she gently pats your back and carefully pulling your hair to hold them up from your way.

you continue to heave heavily, "fuck.. can't believe i puked my guts out again." you groaned in pain, holding onto your aching head. "mother fucker,"

she frowns, but does not pause patting your back. "you should lay down first." but you shake your head, "can't-" you heave, tears still falling and slowly, your knees begin to weaken.

eventually, you were sat on the ground by the woman and you leaned against the wall as you tiredly closed your eyes and rest.

then, after a little while, your eyes fluttered open as you were met with a blurred sight of a gentle, guilty smile and brown glassy eyes. you still felt tired and exhausted, just wanted to sleep the night away until the next two days.

"you shouldn't be resting here though... it's too dirty and there's a lot of people near us."

you hear her sigh, before hearing her taking out her phone from her purse. not knowing what she's doing, you just stared at her numbly and the headache continues to intensify and the nausea is clearly there.

"dammit.." she curses, biting on her lower lip in frustration when she couldn't find any available uber taxi from the app. she turns her phone off and sighs tiredly, then turns to look at you just to see you staring at her with a saddened eyes.

it broke her heart quite literally. tears began to well up, "i am so sorry for getting you involved.. i shouldn't come near you.." she sobbed, the guilt and remorse became unbearable for her to look at your pitiful, injured state.

but just one small shake from you caused her to look down on pure guilt. a sob escapes before releasing another one and another, until she turns into a crying mess.

"i'm so sorry," she wails, leaning her body against your chest as she continues to apologize to you.

and then, you embraced her. not as tightly nor loosen as she thought— it was just a perfect grip. your trembling hand strokes the back of her head, a gesture to calm her down but it only broke her further.

"... it's fine." a word of reassurance was enough for her to cry once again.

-

"... can you stop pacing around? you're making my head hurt even more." you deadpanned as you lay on her bed, resting and watching as she keeps walking around with a guilty look on her face and biting onto her nails.

she stops, "sorry-" there, you sigh again, holding your head and closes your eyes.

"stop apologizing every single time. it's not your fault," you reminded her a hundred times in just a night, feeling helpless with this girl who can't stop apologizing and feeling bad for what happened to you.

but you don't care about it anymore, she's safe now so what more is she worried about?

"... did the bleeding stop?" she asks quietly, taking a seat on her bed next to your laying form. your eyes were still closed, and you gave a small nod to her question.

you hear her releasing a small sigh, then silence. it took you or her a full minute before both of you accidentally spoke at the same time. you opened one eye.

"you go first." nonchalantly you said.

she hesitates before starting, her averted soft eyes were still full of guilt and worry, but comfort was also there. "my name is hanni," then she turns to you, making eye contact.

"hanni pham."

you hum, removing your hand from your head and dropping it on your stomach. "call me y/n, hanni." she nodded with a small smile, to which you wanted to return the gesture but you were bit numb to try it.

she seems to understand. "...i wanted to say i'm sorry again-" she hushed you quickly before you say anything, holding your gaze with determined and pleaded eyes. "just- let me say it. please."

and you let her, sigh in defeat. she smiles again, before it turns into a frown. "i'm sorry for what happened. i know you were confused and uncomfortable, but something just.. happened."

she pursed her lips, discomfort was visible from her body. you eyed her, patiently waiting for her to continue. her sigh came out shaky and nervous, you guessed. "it wasn't a good happening at all."

"i was trying to walk home from school, and it was pretty much a long walk for me." she continues, "and then i was walking past them and they started cat-calling me." you noticed a shudder from her shoulder.

something churned inside your stomach, and you don't like it. nonetheless, she continues with a deepened frown. "it continued like that for, i think, six minutes. i keep telling them to stop, yet they didn't—then i just.." she sighs once again.

"i guess i just snapped, and all hell loose."

and you understand her, completely and sincerely. men can be a dick and asshole, and sometimes, they couldn't take a no and immediately get aggressive like a damned dog out of nowhere. this is exactly why women aren't safe around them at all.

speaking from experience.

you nodded slowly, eyes softened in understanding. then, tears started to fall from her eyes. "i.. i was so scared. scared that they'll do something bad to me.. i-" she choked on her sob, clawing onto her head.

"it wasn't the first time happening to me but i was still scared—"

you stopped her there. your hands immediately gripping her hands and pull them away from her head, avoiding any injuries that she would cause on herself.

then, upon releasing her hands, you cupped her wet cheeks and held her gently, as if you were scared to be rough with her- and it made her sob more at this fact.

"hanni." you call her name, but you said it in a more comforting and soft way, not wanting to make her feel even more bad for what she couldn't control. your heart ached for her, and you truly know what she's going through.

"hanni..." you breathe shakily, ignoring the pounding on your head as you leaned your forehead against hers. you could smell her minty breath, and feel the sweat from her skin but you didn't care.

you held her close, "hey.. i know you're scared of what happened. i was scared too, for you. when i see you with those guys chasing after you..." your exhale quivered when released from your lips.

"...i just knew what they were thinking. so i just.. did what i have to do." your thumbs, trembling, rubs her cheek as tears continue to fall like waterfall.

her chest was hurting from the loud pounding from her heart, not expecting you to be this.. gentle and soft with her.

"...i know what you were feeling, and i don't want you to go through that again... it can't be avoided exactly, but i want you to be more careful than ever.. it's what we, women, have to do in this unfair world."

she notices the crack on your voice, and glances to see your tears falling as well. and she knows now— how much you understand her, how much you wanted to comfort her, and how much comfort you have truly provided her in this very moment.

her heart skipped a beat.

you made eye-contact with her. you looked even more vulnerable than earlier, and she let out a choke sob once again. "i.. i don't want to feel unsafe here."

you nodded, mumbling words of comfort. "i know, i know." she continues on and on, and you let her reach her limit, letting her cry onto your shoulder as she drops against you.

you held her tight, and she wholeheartedly accepts your warm embrace.

-

"...you left home? why?"

she looked genuine when she asked, and you hoped that she wouldn't make fun of your decision in life. you closed your eyes as you and her laid beside each other on her bed.

"mom is an addict and an abuser. she's crazy. she tries to gaslight me that she loves me very much, and then starts beating the shit out of me as if she's trying to take my lifespan away."

you chuckle nonchalantly, while she gasped in shock. her brows furrowed deeply, "that's... she's a real bitch, then." you turn your head to her as your eyes open, while she grumbles.

you laugh amusedly, nudging her arm with the back of your hand. "she is." your toes curled a bit as the cold breeze from the air conditioner became a bit colder, but you liked it anyways.

"i grew up without a dad ever since i could remember, and she's the only woman i've known in my entire life. i also admit i was being an asshole to some people back then," she snorts, causing you to smile sheepishly.

"but.. i managed to grow up properly, i guess. though, i do remember having a job at the age of 11 then paying my own tuition at school, while she does nothing at home."

she raises her eyebrows, "what job did you have?" she asks, turning to look into your eyes curiously. you gave a small smile and shrugged, "who knows? maybe just a little helper at a small store and whatsoever,"

she pouts at the answer, but lets it go since you probably didn't want to talk about it. "fucked up life for us then. i don't have a mom anymore, and only had my dad and sister."

you listened attentively, liking how pleasing her voice sounds to your ears. it was soft and clear. you listened to her own backstory, closing your eyes.

"we were a happy family, though it wasn't the same when my mom passed away." she sighs, "dad wasn't abusive though, and i'm grateful for that. but he became neglectful to us, and keeps leaving the house for no particular reason."

you grimaced at that, but you made no comment about it.

even so, she smiles. "but that was all. me and my sister weren't hurt and that's enough for me. i managed to get a part-time job too, to provide for myself and my sister— and now, we both are living together in this apartment."

you blinked, "oh. this apartment?" you sniffles, turning to your side to face her. "does that mean she's here too?" to which she responded with a shake of her head.

"nah, she's currently at her friend's house for a sleepover."

"ah.. okay." you bluntly said, causing her to laugh shortly. she turns to you as well, laying on her side and facing towards you. she smiles, and you smiled back.

"...do you believe in fate?"

you blinked naturally before nodding, "i guess i do. why'd you ask?" she continues to smile, fondly almost. "do you think this is a coincidence or a fate? a destiny that we've met?"

at this, you chuckle. "kinda random, i must say." she shrugged and waited for your reply. you hummed as you closed your eyes, "...i guess it is destiny, or.. a miracle for me?"

hanni could've sworn her heart skipped a large beat when you fluttered open your eyes and gave the softest, most damned adorable smile she ever witnessed. her ears reddened.

"o-oh.. why is it a miracle?"

she stuttered, feeling her cheeks burning at your gaze. your smile widens, so does her heart skipping a beat once more. this isn't good.. but it felt so right.

"it was a short encounter, but it felt like everything began to change." you mumbled, and snuggled closer to her bed sheets. "this wouldn't happen at all, if it weren't for a miracle to step in. and make me feel comforted."

you chuckle, "it's just weird. but, i guess i made a new friend today...?" at this, you turn to her and purse your lips. she blinks thrice, before giggling at your cuteness.

"glad you made a new friend, y/n. that friend of yours," she yawns softly, ".. must've been so lucky to meet you too." and the last thing she sees before darkness engulfed her is your warm eyes and smile and a small nod.

"...i'm lucky too."

[darknightsblog]

Dark Nights DLC F.A.Q

1. Will the WHOLE story be changed? Like different arts and all? Will be old art still be there? The whole story will NOT be changed. Both Roya and Chain's route follow the same plotline as the main game. You will view the story from their perspective and discover details never shown before. I did rewrite the prologue, but just changed minor details and order of events. The LIs from the main game will appear again and they have side roles. I changed the art, but the characters have the same personality and background story. Old sprites can be viewed in the main game. Their range of expressions is limited so I prefer not adding them at all. Some of the background art is the same. You'll find a lot of new locations like Roya's room and Chain's basement.

2. Will my save files be reset? 

The DLC is going to be a new game file. I realized it's very complicated to program old and new elements in the same script. To make things easier, see this as a separate game. You have to start over because everything is new. The prologue alone has 5 choice menus.

3. I actually play this game using Joiplay on mobile so wanted to know if that still be possible?

I plan to add the DLC on Steam so people with Steam Deck can play it. Regarding a mobile app, I'm not sure yet. I have to figure out how to add it to the app store and import the files to joiplay. It takes time and I would appreciate any guides on how to do it. This whole project is run by 1 man, so please bear with me.

4. Will there be ways to download old versions of the game?

The old (main) game is forever available to download for free. I won't remove it from any platform. You can enjoy the old stories and art to your heart's desire! Upon many requests, I will add a patch with the new sprite art. In settings you can switch back and forth between old & new sprites. Old CGs won't be updated, so it may look a bit disconnected.

5. When is the release date?

Originally, I planned to release it on October 31st 2024 (Dark Night's anniversary) but it's no longer feasible. I still have to draw 8 background illustrations, 18 CGs, code all sprites & the script. On top of that, I'm working on a 2D animated opening video. In October, I have 2 conventions planned overseas. It's impossible to finish all of this work in merely 2 weeks of free time. On October 31st, I'll post an update of my progress and schedule!

[idontknowreallywhy]

The Last of Them

Not quite sure what this is… it started as a little tribute to David Graham who, while maybe most famous for voicing Parker twice, also brought original Gordon to life.

Then it developed a life of its own and I’m not entirely sure what it became - by its very nature it refers to multiple major character deaths but they are all very old. So I hope it is ok. Maybe don’t read if you’re feeling fragile!

I put them in order of the VAs passing because that seemed right in the circumstances. Apologies if that means it is The Wrong Order for how you imagine it.

💛💛💛💛💛💛💙💚🧡❤️💛💛💛💛💛💛

He never expected to be The Last.

They’d all lived to a good age. They’d all achieved what they wanted to achieve.

But even Tracys didn’t live forever. And Gordon had not expected to be The Last.

Virgil had been first. He was never first at anything and this had been absolutely the last race Scott ever wanted to be beaten in. He took it as a personal affront that the universe seemed to want to run the curtain calls out of order.

Secretly, Gordon believed it had been a stroke of luck. In retrospect, he had been relieved. He knew his tender-hearted brother would have struggled the most at having to say goodbye to one of them and carry on. Gordon knew more than any of them, more than Scott, perhaps even than the man himself, how heavily Virgil carried the burden of attending Scott’s first (thankfully premature) funeral and that his darkest fears had always been centred on doing that again. Perhaps that had been why he’d refused the more experimental, increasingly desperate treatments Scott was lining up. He’d said he was happy, he was content and wanted to face the next adventure at home with his family, ALL of his family, not in a bubble in San Francisco.

Even now, when he closed his eyes, Gordon could still feel that last hand squeeze. Could still hear that rumbling voice telling him he’d done good today. He’d had his brother’s last little throwaway gift - a sketch of a grizzly bear with a squid clinging to its face - engraved at 5x scale on to a steel plate.

As time passed, the voice in his memory became younger, the eyebrows darker.

Scott himself had faltered, hard. But eventually, with the assistance of a horde of grandchildren and great grandchildren, had refocused and thrown himself into the role of patriarch that he’d been reluctant to embrace since Dad had passed. He’d lavished all his vast stores of energy on the subsequent generations as if determined they would know how much he cared before it was too late.

Scott hadn’t expected to outlive TinTin, John or Penny either. But the universe kept shuffling the deck of cards until Grandpa Scott finally gave his last cheeky salute and went to find them.

And then there were two. And Gordon was the oldest. Which had been weird, although expected.

Alan had always hated being the last.

When Gordon had poked his head around the door as the doctor left, his baby brother had been serious, staring out of the window. He’d swallowed and walked quietly over to his bedside but as soon as Gordon had been within reach Alan had turned and punched him in the shoulder and smirked that same irritating little brother smirk he’d smirked for over eight decades:

“Tag!”

Gordon had blamed the tears on tiny, weedy child-knuckles faintly bruising his broad, masculine shoulders.

Alan had just cackled.

Gordon had never expected to be The Last.

But so it had been.

Sometimes the media people dared him to reveal his secret. As if somehow he’d achieved something his brothers had not… As if they had missed a trick… he would look them dead in the eye and swear he’d spliced his DNA with a bowhead whale. At which point they’d usually smile awkwardly, check their notes for references to dementia then back away from the stupid, stupid questions.

He had never expected to be The Last, but as The Last, he had become all of them.

When four generations sat round and told stories of the Tracy family, he was the guardian of the old ones. The original ones. The ones they all knew but pretended not to notice him embellishing. How Scott was faster, Virgil stronger, John more all-knowing, Alan more daring every time the tales were retold.

To the world at large he was a kind of talisman. Whenever IR was mentioned in the media, it became Gordon’s image that was used. Despite having never been in command of either IR or TI, it was his comment people wanted. So he would give one, often irreverent or purely nonsensical and with the same wink his eldest brother had been famous for. It was genetic, after all.

He played unpredictable and eccentric old billionaire nearly as well as he played crazy sentimental Grandpa.

As long as they didn’t ask the stupid questions. He had spent a little while in the pool, gently washing off the lingering taint of today’s holo-interview appearance on some news show. He always did them when asked, the Tracys positive reputation enabled the family to do a lot of good on a global scale and cute old guy Gordon apparently helped. It wasn’t a lot to ask. Scott would have done it, so, therefore, did Gordon. And he would carry on, as long as he had all his marbles. And then maybe just a little longer… to wind them all up.

He sighed. However he might suggest that stricter pre-screening was going to be needed in future.

“So, Mr Tracy, how does it feel to be the last of the old guard?”

He’d swallowed the bitter “How do you think?” The questioner had looked about twelve, they had no idea. No idea how it stung. So he’d called it an honour. Then shifted quickly to the agreed script about their campaign to make Safety and First Aid a compulsory part of the school curriculum in many countries.

Yes, a little more consideration for the ancient squid-man’s lonely heart wouldn’t go amiss. EOS would sort it. He liked EOS. She still got his pop culture references and she hadn’t locked him out of anywhere for years.

His minder for the pool excursion - one of Scott’s great grandkids… or possibly John’s… he was beginning to lose track - patted him on the hand and left him tucked up warmly in a fluffy robe on a lounger to watch the sunset.

Goodness he was tired.

He yawned and wriggled a little, then smiled to himself at the sound of the kids coming out on to the deck arguing about something or other. Alan’s traditional shriek as Virgil yeeted him into the pool was followed swiftly by the combined laughter of the elder trio who claimed the loungers beside and behind Gordon. A count of five, then the littlest bro had his revenge by leaping atop Virgil and soaking him before stealing half of Gordon’s robe and the majority of his elbow room.

Too contented to really complain, Gordon slung an arm over the soggy teen and let his brothers’ voices surround him as he drifted off to sleep.

[kusanagihaku]

the promises carved into our tears 

⭢ haku x mc, 3.6k

I will look for you in my next life, and the next, and the next. Now that I have tasted how sweet a happy ending with you can be, I will turn my back on fate over and over again, if only to meet you one last time.

or: a red string soulmate au where hotarubi works for yuelao, 如果可以-style. on ao3 here.

“Nightmares again?” 

Haku sinks into a chair, blinking blearily at Subaru as flames clear slowly from the edge of his vision. “Mm.” 

Subaru smiles sympathetically. He sets a warm teacup down on the table in front of Haku, and motions for him to take a sip. “Gyokuro blend, from Nakamura Tokichi. Zenji’s just stepped out to get this week’s list of clients from Yuelao.” 

Haku murmurs a thanks as he cradles the teacup in his hands. It is nearly too hot to hold, but the weight in his hands is grounding, and it doesn’t take more than a few sips before the fog behind his eyes clear. 

Good. He has a full day of work ahead of him. 

It started after The Incident back at Darkwick – after the smoke had cleared, all major and minor deities had descended on the island, eager to recruit a freshly dead ghoul into their ranks. 

Once most of them had gotten over the shock of also needing to work in the afterlife (Daikokuten had laughed, saying, “How else do you think the gods keep this world running, if not for the behind the scenes work of us supernatural beings?” before promptly offering Taiga a job) and the shock of there being another ghoul in their midst (Zenji’s non-apology was rather sheepish, and mostly directed at Jiro), Towa was the first to be recruited, enticed by Yuelao’s stories of soulmates tied together with red string and destined lovers with fates written in the stars. Haru had followed, of course – only for a while, until Towa gets settled, he said. I’ll worry about him. 

Naturally Zenji got pulled along too, claiming the red strings he’d tie would be brilliant source material for his next manuscript. After all, love sells, doesn’t it? 

Subaru didn’t have the heart to remind him there would be nobody around to publish his manuscript, now that none of them were corporeal, but had followed him anyway, despite an offer from Ame-no-Uzume to work as a kabuki talent scout. There was something repelling about going back to his old life, he said, and left it at that. 

Of course, they pulled the shell of their vice-captain along too. It was the least they could do, with what was left of Haku. 

Not that Haku minded – working for Yuelao isn’t particularly taxing. He sends them a list of soulmates meant to meet that week, each pair of serial numbers complete with the time and location; all they have to do is map out their routes each day, show up at the correct place and time with the red soulmate strings, then let the latent magic floating in the fabric of the universe do its work. 

It’s mostly paperwork anyway, with the biggest part of their job being signing off on each pair after the soulmate strings tie themselves. He can’t complain; it’s been easy work for the past twenty odd years, the days slipping by like water between his fingers. Not a bad way to spend eternity. 

And it’s fulfilling too  – like what Zenji says, there’s something special in seeing bonds form between two people that are two sides of the same coin. It reminds him of–

Haku sets his empty cup down. Shakes his head to clear it. 

Subaru looks up from the book he is reading, but does not say anything. He picks up the teapot, instead, and refills Haku’s cup. 

Haku nods in thanks. 

The comfortable silence stretches out again, drifting like dust motes in the late morning light. It is only interrupted when Zenji arrives back home, banging his way through the entrance of their shared home with a triumphant, “Guess who I met on the way home!”

Haku cracks a smile. There is always something infectious about Zenji’s enthusiasm, no matter how tired he is. “Who?” 

“Towa!” Zenji exclaims. He sets his messenger bag on the table. “Still as floaty as ever. He rejected my offer to let him listen to my latest plot idea, though. It seemed like he had somewhere to be.” 

Subaru laughs. “He must have been heading to a binding. He’s still on morning shift, after all.” 

Zenji hums as he unzips his messenger bag and pulls out their soulmate lists for the week. “I told him he and Haru were welcome over for dinner any time. Don’t think he heard me, though.” 

Subaru nudges a freshly-poured cup of tea away from Zenji’s stack of paper. “I’ll text Haru. It’s been a while since we last saw him.”

And it has been – the last time Haku remembers seeing the red-haired ghoul was sometime two or three months ago in April. All five of them were slated to work a freshman orientation at a university, easily one of the busiest times of the year for the entire Yuelao organisation. Instead of going to his allocated location and waiting, however, Towa had just tossed all the red strings he had in his box up in the air, waved a hand, and trusted that all the strings would go where they were meant to go. 

Haru had cried at the logistical nightmare, then promptly banned Towa from holding the box containing their soulmate strings ever again. Haku wonders idly if Haru ever recovered from the stress. 

Zenji shuffles the stack of paper into three smaller piles, then hands one pile each to Subaru and Haku. They descend into silence, the way they always do with a new list, quietly setting virtual push-pins on their Maps apps to plan out their individual routes for the week. 

Haku is at the end of his list before he sees it. Tucked under entry number 85, his last pair for the week, is a single serial number, slid in at 5.17pm at a park in Meguro. 

He blinks. That’s not supposed to happen. Don’t they usually come in a pair? 

He waits until Subaru looks up from his own list before carefully highlighting the problem. 

Subaru glances over the strange entry, brow furrowed. “Must have been an administrative error. Perhaps whoever was compiling the lists forgot to copy paste the second serial number in?” 

Haku looks doubtfully at the lone serial number sitting at the bottom of the page. Administration has never made a mistake before. “Perhaps.” 

Zenji leans over, peering over his glasses. “My last one for the week is there too,” he says. “At 5.09pm. We can go together to figure it out.” 

Subaru rests his chin on his hands. “My day ends at 4.28pm. Shall we head there together? I’m curious to see what happens.” 

A wave of gratefulness for their wiling companionship slides a smile onto Haku’s face. “Yeah. Yeah, why not?” 

-

The end of the week does not come soon enough. 

They meet at the corner near the Meguro River as the summer sun begins to dip lower in the sky. It is a short walk to the park they are meant to be at, and along the way Zenji regales them with how one of his bindings this morning looked like it was right out of a romance novel. 

“Was it better than the one last week?” Haku teases, and Zenji laughs, bright and loud. 

“The one at the cat cafe? No, nothing can beat that! I could tell right away those two were meant to be, I swear.” 

The park they stop in front of is small, more like a playground than anything else. There is a small child sitting on the swings, blue push-popsicle sweating in his little fist. His feet barely touch the floor as he swings gently back and forth, looking around the neighbourhood with wide, curious eyes. 

“That’ll be him, then,” Haku says. He leans over to check Zenji’s list, then flicks his wrist to check the time. “Any minute, now.” 

Subaru sighs, smiling. “I love it when they find their soulmates young. It’s the best kind of friendship, isn’t it?” 

“Exactly,” Zenji coos. He tugs open his messenger bag to retrieve his box of red strings. “It’s always adorable. Goodness, I want to pinch his little cheeks… he has no idea what’s in store for him.” 

Haku snorts fondly at the two of them. Thank goodness they weren’t visible to humans – three strange men standing in a playground staring at a child? Never mind they still looked like they were in their mid-twenties, they’d be reported for kidnapping straight away. 

Before he can say anything, though, a slightly older boy rounds the corner on his bicycle. It is evident he is new to cycling, shiny orange bicycle wobbling from side to side as he banks hard to the right, trying to make too sharp of a turn. 

Haku barely has time to blink before the boy’s bicycle screeches too far to the right, flinging the boy onto the soft, packed earth of the playground. 

There is a teary “ow,” as the boy sits up, cradling a scraped knee. His hands are bloody, too, roughness of the ground having rubbed abrasions onto the skin of his palm. 

The boy on the swing slips off his seat neatly. He barely comes up to Haku’s hip. “I saw that.”

The boy on the floor whips around at the sound, scowling through his tears. “No, you didn’t.” 

“I did,” he confirms. His tongue flashes blue as he speaks. “It’s okay, though. My brother says it’s normal to fall when you just start learning. Do you need help?”

The older boy hesitates. “Maybe.”

As he helps him up, Zenji slides his box open, and lifts a single red string out of it. He blows, gently, and they watch as the thin thread rolls off the tips of his fingers and drifts over to where the older boy has just regained his balance. It loops around their arms and knots around both their little fingers, giving off a gentle glow as both ends seal, before disappearing. 

The only evidence that anything ever happened is Zenji’s beam as he scribbles a quick signature beside their serial numbers. “Lovely!” 

He clicks his pen closed before tucking everything haphazardly back into his bag, and they watch as the boys pick up the bicycle and begin to walk away. Subaru turns to face Haku. “It’s going to be 5.17pm soon.”

Haku looks down at his watch. Two minutes. 

He has barely retrieved his own box of strings out from his bag when a voice sounds out behind them – “Excuse me. Coming through.”

Time stops. 

It is a voice he can recognise anywhere, a voice he hears in the moments between closing his eyes and falling asleep, one he hears echoing through the threads of his dreams and nightmares alike. It sinks into his skin, past the beat of his heart and the pulse of his nerves, and fills his veins with a feeling he does not quite dare to describe as hope. It sends tremors down the tips of his fingers; it calls open a rift in his memory he has never attempted to heal.  

He turns around, almost mechanically, and sees you. 

-

You swear to every deity there is that if the universe has a reason it’s making you late to your part-time job today, it better be a fucking good one. 

First the trains weren’t running as frequently as they were supposed to, then there was an issue with the gantries malfunctioning at the station exit, then you dropped your bottle and had to run after it for a bit to get it back and in the process missed the green light to cross the road… and now, finally on the home stretch to your employer’s place there are three fucking idiots standing in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking your way. 

You huff. Your employer better be flexing their omniscient powers to read your situation – what for work for a minor god if they make you relive every tiny inconvenience to explain why you’re fifteen minutes late to your job? 

(Never mind that they’re actually incredibly nice and don’t really care when you head in for work as long as you get their paperwork done.) 

“Excuse me,” you call out. “Coming through.” 

All three men whip around. On their faces are various states of astonishment, frozen almost comically in their surprise. 

You’re about to sigh and push forward, when you suddenly notice the colour of their eyes. 

Shit. 

They’re not human. 

Fuck. 

You send a quick prayer to your employer. Hopefully they’re listening – the last time you ran into another supernatural being he made you look for his glasses for two hours before receiving a call saying he left them at home. 

You don’t generally mind helping minor deities here and there, honestly, especially not since they bless you right after for your help. Most of them are really nice. In fact, you’d even say you’re used to doing little things for them, having grown up with the Sight and being able to see supernatural beings for most of your life. But these three don’t look like they need any help, and you’re going to be late to what you know is going to be a mountain of paperwork and— 

You think the tallest one might be crying. 

Ah.

Before you can ask if he’s okay and if they need any help, something bright and glowing rises from the box one of them is holding. 

It elongates, spinning itself slowly mid-air, one end gliding over to you like it has found its target. The other end floats up to the man with green hair. As you watch in bewilderment, it gently wraps around both your little fingers, then tightens with a flash of gold. 

It sends a searing pain through your arms, a shock that slams the air out of you and turns your vision an inky black. 

-

You are standing on a wooden porch, shade of dripping wisteria providing you a little shelter from the grey drizzle. The quiet patter of the rain is only interrupted when someone calls your name, a soft summoning that fills you with warmth. You turn your head to see the brown-haired man – Subaru whispers into your mind, like his name has been there all along – smiling at you. Tea is ready, he says. Come inside. 

You are looking down from the top of a long staircase, closely packed torii gates lining the path down. The stone steps beneath your feet are faded with age, but the red of the dates are vibrant, almost as if they were recently painted. The blue haired man in front of you turns, grinning brightly; his ruby eyes sparkle in the dim light as he extends his hand backwards. Zenji – the flash of his name brings along with it a swell of affection. Come, my dear, he says. They’re waiting for us. 

You are sitting on a cushion laid out on the porch of a traditional Japanese house, back resting against doors made of paper and wood. It overlooks a quiet garden that extends on all three sides; the peacefulness of the stone lanterns makes it feel like a secret you are bound to keep. Your legs are stretched out in front of you, covered by a black blazer with gold trim and pressed against the long legs of someone else. Your hands lay in your lap, fingers intertwined with his graceful ones. When you look up at the man with green hair, his eyes closed and dozing, something in you shifts like a sunbeam – Haku. His name is a cloud on your tongue, painting the inside of your lungs a new, different, golden sort of warmth. It tangles itself into the base of your throat, all tender and sweet; your heart aches with a fondness you’ve never thought possible. Haku. 

You are dangling your feet off the edge of a dock, watching diamonds of moonlight dance off the ripples in the water. Translucent fish float lazily around your feet, drifting in invisible eddies only they can see. An arm is curled behind you as you lean against someone’s shoulder; you don’t have to look up to know the giddy feeling running through your veins is because of the soft kisses Haku is dropping into your hair. He raises his hand to brush your cheek, to tilt your chin up to face him. You watch the monochrome of the moon wash his eyelashes a silvery grey as he dips towards you, before your eyes flutter closed at the gentle warmth of his lips on yours, languorous and insistent and exploring. How lucky you are, you remember, to be able to love him like this. How lucky you are, to have him love you. 

You are pressed up against the back of a door, your shirt half unbuttoned and blazer long discarded somewhere on the floor. Haku’s hands are everywhere, mouth hot on the hollow behind your ear as your fingers scrabble against the buttons of his vest. Princess, he groans, all teeth and tongue on your neck as he slips a leg between yours. Please. And you acquiesce, as you always do, melting into him under the deftness of his fingers and the heat of his breath. He hangs stars on the ladder of your spine and his name on the roof of your mouth; you dance in the fire he lights in the kiln of your hips. You think, as he pulls gasp after gasp from the scorch of your skin, that if it is for Haku you will burn yourself inside out, if only he asks. 

You are sitting - no, lying - in a pile of rubble. There are flames licking up the walls around you, ghastly bright and smokeless, unending despite the rain that seems to be pouring around everything else. You are dimly aware of how close the flames are to you, but the burning that flickers from under your skin is infinitely more unbearable.   

There are sobs above you from the figure who has pulled you into his lap, cradling you in his arms and shielding you from the rain; you barely need to open your eyes to hear the guilt leaking out each breath Haku takes.  

“Don’t cry,” you rasp. Some part of you recognises the irony, given the tears staining your own cheeks, but you raise a heavy hand anyway, thumb brushing the wetness away from his cheeks. It is hard to form words. You hope Haku understands. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. He are shaking uncontrollably, tsunamis rolling off the tense slope of his shoulders. “I should have tried harder—“

“No,” you say, again, this time a little more vehemently. The scratch of your throat worsens, but you no longer have the strength to cough out the petals that have lodged themselves in your lungs. 

You want to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, it was never his fault, that he has done nothing but try as hard as he could to break your curse the moment you stepped into Darkwick. He has spent so much of himself making your final months lovely, and even now with the walls crumbling around him he still has not let you go. 

I’m sorry, you want to say. For meeting you on the train that day, already like this, already cursed. For not meeting you earlier in this life, from the beginning already too late. For being filled with flower and fire, even though all I want to be is filled with my love for you. 

But it is getting hard to breathe, and it is getting dark, and you are so, so tired. 

“Wait for me,” you say, instead. You tilt your face into the palm of his hand, and inhale the last of his scent as best as you can. 

When you gather the strength to speak again, your voice is an oath made, fierce and low, carved into the ache of your tears. You look up at Haku, your love, your light, radiant even in his grief, even as your vision is blurry and fading. “We’ll meet again, I promise.” 

I will look for you in my next life, and the next, and the next, until we meet again. I will look for you in every lifetime. Now that I have tasted how sweet a happy ending with you can be, I will turn my back on fate over and over again, if only to meet you one last time. 

-

You blink, and suddenly you are back, gasping for air as an ache cracks open in your chest, gaping and yearning. 

You are vaguely aware of the wetness on your cheeks, and that the tallest man – Zenji – is openly bawling now, but the moment your eyes meet his the rest of the world blurs. 

Haku. 

He has not moved, you think, all hesitance and incredulity, frozen with the helplessness of a man who has wanted so much for so long but has only dared to hope for so little. His gaze shines with unshed tears, disbelief wrapping itself taut around the clench of his fists, like he is trying not to reach out for you, trying to keep the spark of his skin from setting your world ablaze again. 

But, oh, in this life you’ve been raised fireproof, heart forged into a glass-clear that sings for the sunset of his hands. In this life, you are not on a train, you are not too late, and you are not filled the potency of a curse but the promise of a happy ending. 

We’ll meet again, I promise. 

You take a small step forward. The red string wound around your finger ripples, flashes gold in the evening light. 

“Haku?” 

[marvelstars]

I was thinking about the worst part when it comes to Obi-Wan and Anakin´s relationship issues wasn´t the tragic end in ROTS but those seeds planted at the start of their story where Obi-Wan resented Qui-Gon´s attention for Anakin while he felt the boy wasn´t much to look at and a future issue for his master with the Council in the long run which made Obi-Wan worried for his master reputation and how this would be affected while he could care less about Anakin´s well being or his pov or even his feelings on the matter.

The worst part is that Anakin didn´t just listen to Obi-Wan´s words, he could feel all of this from Obi-Wan as sensible as he was with the force and he could deal with Obi-Wan seeing him as a problem as long as Qui-Gon was alive and seemed to genuinely care for him even if nobody else at the Jedi Temple seemed to care but when Qui-Gon died he should have felt very lonely with a new guardian grieving his master who saw him more like a promise to his master legacy than a person.

Imagine all those times 9 year old Anakin missed his Mom or cried himself to sleep thinking about her, wondering if she was alright while other padawans teased him about his former slave status, his lack of formal education or his difficulty understanding concepts they have been told since they were babies, while not having any close relationship for the mere fact he didn´t grow up with them and his master more or less agreed with them even if he didn´t openly said it.

Anakin didn´t even have someone to have his back while he was growing up at the temple, because from their perspective those were issues he had to get over, no need for someone to support him emotinally or simply showed him some empathy, those were the same issues Obi-Wan had with Anakin since the moment they meet and while Anakin certainly did his best to grow into his potential, stydying hard and doing well on his studies, he was hardly recognized by his master, when his efforts were seen as arrogance instead of efforts to get the approval of his master and his peers.

Imagine that level of loneliness that your only company during your development years were the droids who helped you remember home and your Mom while at the same time feeling guilty for not feeling welcome at the temple because you were free and feed while your mother and friends were slaves and often lacked food and no one in the area could even begin to understand how Anakin felt and why except "Palpatine" but instead of helping Anakin he used this to manipulate him, get his trust and later make him fall to madness and the darkside.

The Sith Lord master understood better than anybody else at the Jedi temple that Anakin needed a father figure, not a master or a cold envoirment because that was familiar to him, that gave him emotional strenght and stability and more importantly, that make Anakin trust them and give his loyalty, no wonder he decided leaving Anakin to train as a Jedi in such circunstances were proper eteps towards becoming his sith apprentice and that irony probably didn´t escape him or Vader once he fell to the darkside but I don´t think Obi-Wan quite got that understanding until later when he saw Luke grow up with the Lars family but certainly not in the first few years post ROTS, he probably just reflected on where did he go wrong with Anakin.

[mrdogface]

so i posted something about this and deleted it because i wanted to mull it over more

i don't like Secret Agent Alfred. i think when it was added to the post-Crisis Batman canon in the mid-to-late 1980s, Alfred was just old enough that the audience would probably assume he was active during WWII. which is cool because 1. nazis aren't human, you can just run them over, and 2. the history of the British spy world in the lead up to and during WWII is actually pretty cool stuff, especially because it crosses hard into the Polish resistance to Germany, and there are so many stories and vibes you can easily slide Alfred into there that are genuinely rad.

but as time moves on and the characters' ages remain the same we're confronted by the fact that Alfred was probably too young to participate in WWII and therefore must've been a spy during the Cold War. working for England. during the post-war collapse of the British Empire, when uh, when they were um, doing all that postcolonialist violence to maintain control of former colonial holdings, like participating in the assassination of the first ever democratically elected leader of the Congo in 1961 (primarily done by Belgium with direct MI6 involvement). there just aren't any heroic spy drama stories to really slide Alfred into.

which is strange!! because the DC universe is full of all kinds of insane clandestine organisations, but Alfred never seems to discuss fighting them. what's also weird is that the nature of clandestine stories in the post-Crisis DC universe, ala the Suicide Squad, tend to lean hard into the amoral nature of intelligence work. it's just a weird untapped area, tonally.

but here's what sticks out at me. the point of making Alfred a former spy is to attempt to profiteer on the cultural popularity of James Bond. but more importantly, the pont of making Alfred a former spy is to give him an abstract skill set that supports the Batman narrative and identity.

my question is: wouldn't that skill set also be served by alfred just being a gay guy who lived during the bar raid era? like. like come on. just make him gay. make his skill set a direct result of his being a big homo. it's not like the material isn't there to support it

look at him

what do we lose? his relationship with leslie thompkins? that thing i have never seen anybody even pretend to care about? make leslie fuck jim gordon instead. what do we lose if she does that? sarah essen? ok. these relationships are all significantly less interesting than the timeline where alfred threw the first brick at pride

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Physical Graffiti

Author: entropic_saudade

Artist: BasketcaseBetty

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Endgame Dean Winchester/Castiel, Brief Dean Winchester/Ash, Brief Dean Winchester/Max Banes, John Winchester/Kate Milligan, Past John Winchester/Mary Winchester, Past Dean Winchester/Lee Webb, Past Dean Winchester/Cassie Robinson, Past Dean Winchester/Others, Past Castiel/Others, Implied Bobby Singer/Rufus Turner, Past Bobby Singer/Karen Singer, Harper Sayles/Vance, Edward Carrigan/Madge Carrigan, Jenny Sorenson/OMC, Larry Pike/Joanie Pike, Background Max/Stacy.

Length: 75000

Warnings: Archive Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings. Additional Content Warnings: Self Harm, Alcohol Use Disorder, Recreational Drug Use, Child Abuse, Past Non-Con, Past Underage, Past Drug Addiction, Minor Character Death, Mental Health Issues

Tags: Case Fic, Murder Mystery, Horror Elements, Slow Burn, Journalist Dean Winchester, Detective Cas, Eventual Hopeful Ending, Families of Choice

Posting Date: November 4, 2024

Summary: The only ghosts and demons are the ones inside his head.  Fresh from a prematurely-ended stint at an inpatient psychiatric facility, ‘former’ self-harmer and functional alcoholic Dean Winchester returns to Sioux Falls, where he works as a crime journalist. His editor, Bobby Singer, sends him back home to Lawrence to gather the story on the murder of a teen boy and the recent disappearance of another. Painful memories from growing up resurface as the missing boy turns up horrifically dead and another goes missing.  The investigation is further complicated by the town’s gossipy tight-knit nature, Dad’s judgment, and botched attempts at making inroads with his estranged half-family, Kate and Adam Milligan.  Dean crosses paths with Castiel Novak, a renegade detective from Kansas City with a troubled past of his own. As they work together, they slip past each other’s defenses, unearthing each other’s secrets and digging for the truth.  As it turns out, monsters just might be real—and they just might live at home.  A Sharp Objects-inspired AU.

Excerpt: A dumpy parking lot, leaning against Baby’s hood, looking to the stars—it reminds Dean of doing the same with the football jocks. The way he’d smuggle stolen beer cans in Dad’s jacket pocket, turning him from ‘homo’ to ‘hero’ in their eyes. Stupidly, it reminds him of Lee.  Dean sneaks a glance over at Cas’ profile, tracing the angle of his jaw as he tilts his head up. The same stupid butterflies flap in his stomach. He suffocates them with a few swigs. “So, our arrangement. I’ll answer a question for each one you answer,” Cas offers, his adam’s apple bobbing.  “Deal.”  “What was it like growing up in Lawrence?” Dean whistles. “Starting with hardballs, huh? You don’t pull any punches.”  “Would you rather I ask for your favorite color?” Cas teases.  He groans. “No, none of that grade school shit. Gimme the real scoop.” Cas raises a pointed brow. You first. “Alright, Lawrence.” He sighs, bracing himself. “Mom had… my brother when I was four.” His voice wavers slightly when he brings up Sammy.  “Adam is much younger, though, isn’t he?”  “Different brother, Kate’s my stepmom. Me and Sam, we’re our Mom’s. She died when Sam was six months old. House fire.” Cas’ eyes sadden, but he doesn’t say anything. “But, as far as growing up—normal, I guess. Went to the school district nearby, was in wrestling for a little bit. I wasn’t some prodigy but I did okay, grades-wise.” “I bet you were Mr. Popular.” Dean barks a laugh. “Uh, no. Sorta depends on who you ask.” Depends on what year. “After graduation, I left for college.” Dean skips over the rest of the highlight reel.  “And Sam?” “Hey, you gotta answer at least one question first,” Dean pokes him. “Why is a detective from Kansas City down in Lawrence?”  “My supervisor likes to send me out on solo cases for assists. I don’t exactly work well with others.”  “Well, you and I make a pretty good team—a little chaotic, maybe, but at least we ruled two suspects off your list.”  “That we did. It’s a shame you’re not a detective.” “Reporters are detectives of sorts. We both look for narrative, just in different ways.” Cas gives a thoughtful hum. “My turn again. What happened to Sam?” Dean’s throat convulses. “He died. We were in our teens.” “What happened?” “He was sick all the time. One day, he just… kept getting worse. His body couldn’t take it.” Sammy’s ghost observed them, sadly, flickering in an in-between state.  “I’m sorry, Dean.”  They sit in silence for a few moments. Panic builds in Dean’s chest, and he worries that he’s ruined whatever rapport they’d been building.  “I’ll tell you something if you swear to not tell another soul?”  Dean nods, relief settling over him. He eats secrets for breakfast.  “The real reason I work Homicide is because it’s better than what I used to do.”  “What’s so bad that working Homicide is better?” Cas looked down and didn’t answer.

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