#I read this so many time... If I make any errors. Put me in the timeout corner | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jazziejax · 2 months ago

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𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧’ 𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Modern AU | Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Black!OC & Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore | Modern AU

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - A simple day turns into something much more. Tension brews, words are exchanged, and things begin to shift between old friends.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Mild language, romantic tension, use of a gun, emotional vulnerability, slight suggestiveness.

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - Part 1 of this is series is the very first time a post of mine has gotten that many likes. I’m mind blown, excited, thrilled and juts so grateful that you guys are liking this idea i literally just threw together. I’ll have to make a special chapter to express my gratitude but i hope you guys truly enjoy this, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!!! Sorry for any spelling errors and grammar mistakes!!!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 13,018+

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˖°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The girls had barely gotten the bags set down when a knock sounded at the door. Sinclair, baby Ryan perched on her hip, answered it with a small smile. Standing there was Smoke, Stack hanging back in the car. Smoke was looking stoic as ever, and Stack waved and offered a sheepish grin as he looked at the baby in her arms.

“Uh, left my wallet.” Stack said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Think I dropped it in one of the bags.”

Sinclair didn’t miss a beat. “Perfect. Y’all can help me real quick too.” She said, shifting Tyson to her other hip. Before Smoke could protest, she nodded toward the driveway. “Car won’t start. I was gon’ get Juicy to call Keith to take care of it, but since y’all are here…”

Juicy groaned softly behind her sister as she came from putting some of the things away in the kitchen. The last thing she wanted was to owe these two anything — they had just gotten back into town, and she wasn’t tryna look helpless. But Sinclair had already ushered them inside, thanking them sweetly before disappearing down the hall with the baby.

“I can call a tow or something.” Juicy tried weakly, crossing her arms as she followed Smoke outside. “Ain’t no need to trouble y’all—”

Stack waved her off, already heading for the hood of the car. “Ain’t no trouble. We bored anyway.” He said, flashing her a wink as he popped the latch.

Smoke was quieter, surveying the car with narrowed eyes. He glanced at Juicy once, reading her reluctance, but didn’t say anything. Just lifted the hood and started working with the tool bag so close placed on the porch before running back into to Tyson. Mary flopped down onto the porch swing beside Juicy, nudging her shoulder into her leg with a grin.

Juicy exhaled loudly and joined her, watching as the twins tinkered with the car. Occasionally, Sinclair peeked out from the doorway, shouting little updates or asking if they needed anything.

After a while, Stack called over his shoulder, “Y’all just gon’ sit there and stare?”

Juicy, ever the quick one, shrugged, trying to mask her real reason for watching. “The view ain’t so bad.” She quipped, flashing a cute, closed-lip smile.

Both men chuckled. Stack shook his head while Smoke smirked under his breath, glancing back at her with an amused, almost… intrigued look. Juicy could feel her cheeks heat up, but she played it cool, sitting back and licking at her slowly melting strawberry ice cream.

“Girl.” Mary leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a whisper only Juicy could hear. “I’m sorry, but if that was me? I’d hop on that so fast.”

Juicy frowned, glancing sideways at her. “Huh?”

Mary gave her a look like it was obvious. “Come on, Ju. You see how they lookin’ at you. Both of ’em. Like they tryna figure out who’s gon’ get the first move. You or one of them.”

Juicy shook her head, lips pressed tight to hide a smile. “You trippin’.”She mumbled, though her heart picked up in her chest.

“Nah, you just blind.” Mary laughed, licking her own ice cream cone. “I’m just sayin’ — if you don’t do something about it, I might.” She said suggestively, nudging in the arm. Juicy just rolled her eyes, pretending she wasn’t affected, but her eyes wandered back to the driveway, watching the way Smoke leaned over the hood with his sleeves pushed up, the muscles in his forearms flexing with each turn of a wrench. Stack was no better, lounging against the side of the car, wiping sweat from his forehead with the hem of his shirt, flashing a glimpse of his abs.

Damn. She thought. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Mary wasn’t crazy.

After a while, since Juicy wasn’t about to let the twins work themselves to death, she brought the men out something to drink. Slipping back inside the house, she returned with a small tray balanced in her hands, setting down a cold pitcher of lemonade and a stack of bottled waters on the porch railing. She also dragged out an old, battered radio, plopping it near the steps and fiddling with the dial until it landed on a station spinning smooth R&B tracks.

Stack caught the change in atmosphere first, glancing over his shoulder and giving a low chuckle when he saw Juicy setting everything up like a little hostess. Or a nice housewife. Smoke didn’t say anything — just wiped his hands on a rag and nodded his thanks before ducking back under the hood of gray ‘96 Buick LeSabre.

Juicy and Mary settled on the porch again, bare legs swinging lightly above the ground, chatting and laughing while the twins worked. Every so often, Stack would pop his head up, teasing them about being lazy, and Juicy would shoot something back just as quick, the easy back-and-forth slipping into something more familiar. Something warmer.

“You gon’ sit there and watch all day?” Stack called out as he tightened a bolt.

Juicy rolled her eyes as she sipped at her lemonade through a straw, the corner of her mouth twitching up in a smile. “I’m minding my business, which just so happens to be that car, and making sure y’all don’t make it worse. Now get back to work, handsome.” She tossed back sweetly, flashing him a playful grin.

Both twins barked a laugh at that — Smoke shaking his head with a smirk while Stack grinned wider, flashing those gold fronts that caught the sunlight.

They were almost finished when a group of girls strutted up the sidewalk, all lip gloss and cut-off shorts, waving excitedly at Juicy and Mary.

“Y’all coming to the rink tonight?” One called, Sharee, bouncing on her toes. “It’s ladies night — free entry. And DJ Sammie’s on the music so you know it’s gon’ be poppin’!”

Juicy hesitated, letting out a questioning him and glancing sideways at Mary, who immediately nodded like a bobblehead. Juicy couldn’t help but laugh as she stood up from the wing and moved over to the porch railing.

Sensing the pause, another girl chimed in, grinning mischievously. “Keith’s gonna be there…”

That name got both Stack and Smoke’s attention. Stack looked up from under the car, wiping his hands on his jeans, while Smoke just leaned an elbow against the hood, eyes narrowed slightly as he listened.

Juicy groaned, rolling her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall out. “We ain’t goin’ for Keith.” She said firmly, crossing her arms. “We goin’ for the music. And the skating.” The group of girls just giggled, but the twins kept their reactions to themselves, although the way Stack shook his head and muttered something under his breath wasn’t lost on anyone paying attention.

Just then, Smoke stepped out from under the car, grabbing the hem of his white muscle shirt and dragging it up to wipe the sweat off his face and neck. The move revealed a long stretch of carved abs and broad chest, glistening slightly under the sun.

The girls on the sidewalk went still, staring, barely trying to hide it. Mary leaned over to Juicy and whispered something that made her snort.

Smoke’s arms, chest, and abs were cut and gleaming, every muscle shifting as he moved. His expression was calm, like he didn’t even notice the sudden heavy air. But the girls noticed.

They tried — tried — to stay cool, fake texting on their phones, fiddling with their hair, pretending to stretch like they weren’t sneaking glances at every inch of him. One girl tilted her head, lips parting slightly before she caught herself and quickly turned to whisper something to her friend, who was already elbowing her back.

The whole group looked like they wanted to fan themselves but knew better than to make it obvious.

Smoke ignored the attention entirely as she turned and waked towards the porch. His focus stayed locked on Juicy as he strolled up to the porch, a confident stride. Without a word, he picked up one of the glasses she had set out and drained it in a few long gulps.

When he finished, he lowered the glass, standing close enough that Juicy had to tilt her head up to meet his gaze. The other girls might as well have disappeared.

“Can I get some more ice, please?” Smoke asked, his voice deep and steady. Juicy blinked, a little caught off guard by the way he said it — by the slow, deliberate way he spoke, like every word was dipped in syrup.

“Of course.” She said, a little softer than before, reaching out to take the empty glass from his hand.

“Thanks, ma.” He added, flashing a rare, almost boyish grin that somehow made him even more dangerous.

Juicy barely managed a nod before spinning on her heel quickly and disappearing into the house with the glass, feeling the heat creep up her neck.

Smoke watched her go for a second longer than necessary before heading back to the car without a word, his expression unreadable. Stack only laughed lowly, shaking his head as he tightened another bolt. “You got her flustered, boy.”

Smoke just smirked under his breath and leaned back under the hood. “Shut up and fix the damn car.” He muttered, but even then, there was a certain lightness to him that hadn’t been there before.

Meanwhile, on the sidewalk, the group of girls tried desperately to collect themselves, sneaking peeks at each other like who the hell are they and why haven’t we seen them before? Their excitement was bubbling under the surface, barely contained, especially knowing there was still another fine man half-hidden under the car.

Juicy came back out seconds later, filling the ice cup with water and said it down, waiting for the man to come get whenever he wanted. She saw the looks on the girls faces, and before the girls could even chime in about the fine men fixing the car, Juicy suddenly rethought what Mary had just said, realizing she didn’t like the way the newcomers were looking at Smoke and Stack. She blinked, glancing between the ogling group.

The girls were too busy stealing glances to notice Juicy’s mood shift, or even her arrival, especially as Stack slid out from under the car, sweat dripping down his bronze skin. Without a second thought, he tugged his white muscle shirt off completely, exposing his toned body to the beaming sun. He used the shirt to wipe his face, running a hand down his cornrows before slipping right back under the car like he hadn’t just stopped half the sidewalk.

Juicy felt something twist in her chest. She didn’t like this one bit. Straightening up, she forced a polite smile, her arms folding over her chest tightly.

“Okay, I’ll see y’all at the rink.” She said, voice tight but sweet.

The girls, slow to pull their attention away from the men, nodded distractedly. One of them even started to raise a finger, angled towards the men and probably about to ask something Juicy had no patience for. Before she could get a word out, Juicy was already coming down the porch steps, keeping her arms folded as she approached.

“I have to go help Mary pick out an outfit. We’ll see y’all there.”She said firmly, her tone leaving no room for further conversation.

Her smile stayed taut and polite, but her eyes sharpened a bit as she looked at the girl who’d been about to speak. The girl simply blinked and nodded. Maybe they caught on to the shift in attitude, maybe they didn’t. Either way, Juicy didn’t care.

She waved them off, watching with a hard stare until they turned the corner and disappeared out of sight.

When she turned back toward the house, Mary was sitting on the porch, one brow raised knowingly. Juicy rolled her eyes at her friend’s silent teasing.

“Come on.” She huffed. “We gotta find you something to wear.”She stayed planted on the sidewalk, not bothering to head back inside since they were about to walk to Mary’s house anyway.

Mary scoffed as she stood up, amusement all over her face as she made her way down the porch. “Don’t be mad at me ’cause you’re conflicted.”

“I’m not conflicted.” Juicy snapped, arms still crossed over her chest, her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. It was a look Stack, still under the car, caught from the corner of his eye — a look that he and Smoke both secretly adored.

Stack rolled out from under the car and looked between the girls. “Where y’all going?” He asked, already pretty sure he knew from the bits of conversation he’d heard. “To Mary’s.” Juicy replied quickly, still sounding a little ticked off without even knowing why.

Stack stood up, stretching his arms over his head lazily before wiping his sweat away with the shirt still in his hand. “Okay, well, you’re not gonna walk. I’ll take you.”

Juicy frowned, confused. “Why? What about the car?”

Stack looked down at her, his gold skin glinting in the sun, cool and unaffected. “Smoke got it.” He said, simple and sure. Juicy opened her mouth, ready to argue, but Stack cut her off, stepping closer and towering over her just slightly.

“And he don’t care. He’ll be a’ight. Now walk on over to that car so we can get you girls ready for the rink tonight.” He said, more a command than a suggestion.

Juicy bit the inside of her cheek, arms pressing tighter against her stomach, trying to ignore the way her body responded to the authority in his voice. When she didn’t move, too caught up in her spiraling thoughts, Stack quirked a brow at her, waiting.

That little flick of his eyebrow snapped her out of it. She blinked, glancing away quickly, then shoved her hand out toward him. “I need the key.” She said sassily, shifting her weight onto one leg, her chin tilted up in challenge.

Stack smirked slightly and pulled the key from his low-hanging pants, dropping it into her palm. Their fingers brushed, and Juicy had to bite back a shiver at the sudden spark that zipped up her arm.

“Go.” Stack said again, his voice low, almost amused.

Juicy scoffed, even though she was already moving toward the parked car across the street. Mary fell into step beside her, grinning devilishly. “Girl, if he talked to me like that, you don’t even wanna know the things I’d be calling him. Shit you only hear in pornos.” She said, her voice loud enough to make Juicy’s face heat up.

Juicy scoffed softly but said nothing, sliding into the back seat with Mary right behind her.

“Girl, you say things you hear in pornos in regular conversation.” Juicy shot back once they were both buckled in.

Mary laughed so hard she snorted. “Exactly! That’s why I said you don’t even know what I could pull out. I got a Rolodex of words that would taint the whole Hall household if I even thought of ’em.”

Juicy scrunched up her nose playfully, a look of exaggerated disgust crossing her face. “Yo freaky ass.” She muttered. The girls’ laughter echoed in the car as Stack disappeared inside briefly, grabbing one of Martin’s spare shirts to tug on and fixing himself a glass of lemonade before joining them.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The drive to Mary’s house didn’t take long—it never did. Just a few blocks through the old neighborhood, past houses that still had their porch swings and clotheslines, windows cracked open to let the breeze in. Stack drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift. Mary sat up from the back seat, chatting about outfit options for the rink while Juicy stayed quiet in the back seat, arms still folded, her mind split between Stack’s voice in her ear and the way her body still buzzed from it.

When Stack pulled up in front of Mary’s house, he barely shifted the car into park before he popped open his door. Juicy blinked, confused, leaning forward from the back seat. “Where are you going?” She asked, watching as Stack stepped out, the driver’s side still wide open. Her brows were drawn together, confused by his quick exit.

He paused, glancing back at her with that same half-annoyed, half-amused look that always made her want to slap him—and maybe kiss him, too, if she’d ever admit it.

“You thought I was about to sit in this hot ass car while you girls take forever to find one outfit?” He asked, brows raised like she was the one being unreasonable. “Hell no.” Before Juicy could reply, he added with a shrug, “Plus, I gotta speak to Ms. Boothe.”

That caused Juicy to scoff a little and roll her eyes, the corner of her lip twitching into a pout even she didn’t realize was there. “My bad.” She muttered, opening her door. “I was just asking.”

As she began to step out, hand on the car door, he hit her again with that low, level voice.

“Don’t slam my door.”

Juicy paused, one foot on the curb, one hand still gripping the door. She stared at him over the top of the car, unblinking. No sass. Just that locked-in eye contact that always made the air thick between them. He knew her too well. Without a word, she eased the door shut—not too soft, not too rough—just enough pressure to make sure it caught and locked, but nothing close to a slam.

Stack smiled up at her as he got out and rounded the car, locking it behind him. “And I know you’re sorry, baby.” He dded, eyes playful. “I wasn’t yelling at you.”

That smug little smirk made Juicy roll her eyes again, but there was no heat behind it now—just a flutter in her chest that she refused to acknowledge. She turned without another word and made her way up to Mary’s porch, Stack only a few paces behind her.

Mary was already up the steps and in the home, letting herself into the house as if she lived alone as she waked to her on after a quick greeting to her mother. Juicy followed suit, opening the screen door and stepping into the familiar scent of lemon oil and hot grease.

“Hi, Missy.” She called out automatically, slipping off her shoes by the door like she always did.

Missy Boothe, Mary’s mother, was in the kitchen as usual, standing over a simmering skillet and humming something old-school under her breath. At the sound of Juicy’s voice, she turned from the stove with a warm smile.

“Hey, baby.” She said, her voice honeyed and sweet.

But her eyes immediately shifted past Juicy, going wide as she spotted the tall figure behind her.

“Oh, Elias!” She practically sung, her arms already opening as she came toward him. Stack grinned and stepped into the hug with ease, like he’d done it a hundred times before—because he had.

“Hey, Ms. Missy.” He said, wrapping his arms around the petite Southern woman, careful not to smother her with his size.

She pulled back just far enough to look up at him with adoration. “Just look at you.” She fussed, eyes shining. “You’ve grown your hair out again! And that skin is just glowing, boy. You look so handsome. So grown.”

Stack chuckled low in his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’ve just been outside, Ms. Missy. That’s all the glow you’re seeing, sweat.”

“Oh, hush that modesty.” She waved him off. “You and Elijah must be doing something right. Still keeping up with your cousin?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s good.” Stack nodded, his voice softening with respect.

“That’s good. Well, you have got to come sit with me for a spell and tell me what you boys have been up to. Come on in here, let me fix you something.” She was already turning back to the kitchen, hand still gently latched around his wrist like she didn’t want him slipping away.

As she led him deeper into the house, Stack glanced back over his shoulder at Juicy. She hadn’t followed yet. She stood near the front room, watching the exchange with a small, unreadable smile on her lips. One that held warmth… and maybe just a hint of something else. A tenderness that surprised even her.

Missy Boothe was one of those women who made everyone feel like home. She’d known them since they were small children, always feeding them, always welcoming them in like they were her own. But Stack had a particular place in her heart. She’d always doted on him a little extra, claiming it was because he was so well-mannered, but Juicy suspected it was something else. Like the way his father treated him. He’d always been around. Showing up for more than just meals. Fixing things around the house. Walking Mary to the store when Missy couldn’t. Making sure her trash was taken out without even asking. That kind of presence made a mark.

She watched as Stack settled onto one of the barstools at the counter as Missy poured him a glass of sweet tea. She was talking a mile a minute now, and Stack was answering with polite hums and the occasional laugh that made his shoulders shake. Juicy watched them from the kitchen doorway, a soft smile on her face before she walked further into the house, leaving the man with the woman that adored him most.

Upstairs, Mary’s room was still the same explosion of color and chaos it had always been—posters of Dru Hill and B2K on the walls, an old Destiny’s Child CD case cracked open on the nightstand, and a tangled mess of clothes spilling from an overworked dresser. The window was cracked to let in the breeze, the lace curtains fluttering gently as the soft hum of a fan blew from the corner. It was just past noon, and the air smelled faintly of coconut oil and flat iron heat.

Juicy flopped onto Mary’s bed, laying on her stomach as she watched her friend rummage through her closet. Mary, dressed in a pink camisole and cutoff shorts, was talking to herself more than anyone, throwing tops over her shoulder and groaning dramatically.

“I swear I don’t have nothing to wear!” She exclaimed, stepping back and putting her hands on her hips.

“You have too much to wear.”Juicy countered, grabbing a red Baby Phat halter top off the bed beside her and holding it up. “You could pull this with your denim mini.” She suggested.

Mary turned and wrinkled her nose. “Girl, I wore that the last time I went out.”

��And nobody remembers but you.”

“I remember, and that’s what matters.” Mary said, then spun around with a grin. “But I know you’re not talking. You know you gon’ pull out that same lil’ rhinestone tee you always wear when you tryna be cute. The one that say ‘Spoiled’ on it.” She snickered.

Juicy narrowed her eyes, flipping her off playfully before burying her face in the comforter. “The shirts nice. Can’t help it if it makes my boobs look good.” She shrugged. Mary laughed and flopped down beside her. “Yeah, you’re tryna be cute. And make them look good for somebody.”

Juicy raised her head slowly. “What you mean?”

“I mean…” Mary’s grin grew wide and mischievous. “Keith gon’ be there tonight.”

Juicy’s face twitched—but only just. “I don’t care if Keith there.” She muttered.

“Mmmhmm.” Mary sing-songed. “You was all shy when he asked for your number last week. Actin’ like you ain’t like him back.”

“I didn’t give him my number.” Juicy mumbled, face buried in the pillow now.

“Yeah, ‘cause I was standing right there.” Mary laughed. “But I know you wanted to.”

Before Juicy could respond, the floorboards outside the room creaked. They both glanced up at the same time.

Stack leaned against the doorframe, shoulder pressed to the wood, arms folded across his chest. He hadn’t bothered knocking—he never did when it came to Mary’s house. He let his eyes trail lazily across the room until they landed on Juicy still lying on the bed, then flicked toward Mary with a lopsided grin.

“Keith, huh?” He questioned.

Juicy sat up fast, like she’d been caught red-handed. “Were you eavesdropping?” She asked.

“I just walked in.” He said, pushing off the doorframe. “Y’all was talkin’ like I wasn’t even here.”

Mary, unfazed, gave him a look. “Yeah, because you wasn’t here a second ago.”

Stack turned to Juicy, narrowing his eyes a little. “So who this Keith dude?” He asked, going back to the subject.

Juicy avoided his gaze. “Ain’t nobody important.” She shrugged.

“Seem like somebody.” His tone was light, teasing even, but there was a sharpness just beneath the surface. His eyes didn’t leave hers, though she didn’t look at him, Mary, still oblivious, perked up as she sorted through more clothes. “He’s the boy that helped us bring the sodas to some function last week, he went and picked them up for the free. Real polite. And cute too—Juicy even said it.”

“Mary…” Juicy warned, her voice low.

“What?” Mary said with a shrug. “He’s nice. You blushed when he said you smelled good.”

“You know that my favorite compliment.” The darker skinned girl mumbled, crossing her arms. Stack looked at Juicy, face unreadable and jaw ticking ever so slightly. “You like him?” He asked.

Juicy met his eyes but only for a second before glancing away, her voice suddenly clipped. “No.”

Mary snorted. “You do. You just don’t wanna admit it ‘cause he quiet and not all hard like—”

“I don’t like him.” Juicy cut her off sharply, more forcefully this time, her eyes flicking to Stack’s.

He studied her closely now, catching the shift in her tone, the way her shoulders stiffened a bit and how she wouldn’t look at him. Something about her denial felt too practiced, too deliberate. Like she wanted him to hear it, believe it—need him to.

Mary didn’t seem to notice. She was still talking, still pulling tops and jeans and accessories. But Stack… he was locked in on Juicy. And the longer she avoided his gaze, the more his protectiveness stirred.

“Just curious.” He said finally, voice dropping a notch. “I don’t know the dude. If he weird or got a rep, I need to know.”

Juicy shook her head. “He’s not weird. And he don’t got a rep.”

“So he just a regular dude… interested in you.” Stack said, stepping further into the room.

Juicy sat up straighter, furrowing her brows at him. “Yeah?” She said. “Why does that sound like a problem?”

“It doesn’t.” He said simply, but his eyes told a different story. “Just don’t like niggas coming around who ain’t got good intentions.”

“And who’s to say he don’t?”

Stack smirked a little but didn’t answer. His silence said enough.

Mary finally caught the shift in energy, turning from her closet with a raised brow. “Okay, why does it feel like y’all are arguing over a boy that neither of y’all dating?”

“I’m not arguing,” Juicy muttered, sliding off the bed. “Ain’t nobody checking for Keith.”

“Exactly.” Stack said, but softer now. His voice didn’t carry the same edge. He watched her brush past him toward the door, like she needed some air. And when she left, Mary gave Stack a look that held just the slightest suspicion.

“You ain’t never asked me about no other boy before.” She said.

Stack’s jaw flexed. “Cause you can take care of yourself. I taught you that.” He said. “She’s…I have to look out for her.” He said, but even he didn’t believe it. Not all the way.

Because when it came to Juicy, looking out always felt a little too close to holding on.

Mary finally ended up settling on a teal crop top with rhinestone straps and a pair of low-rise jeans that hugged her hips just right. After a playful back-and-forth, Juicy finally came back and Stack was back in the kitchen. Juicy claimed a vintage red mesh top with long sleeves and a white tank underneath that gave just the right ‘03 attitude. The girls had spent the last hour laughing, poking fun, dancing to 106 & Park reruns in the background, and throwing clothes across the room like it was a sport.

Mary’s room looked like a dressing tornado had touched down—tops and skirts strewn across the bed, sneakers tossed into corners, and hangers hooked on anything that could hold them. Juicy stood in front of the mirror, smoothing her hands down the borrowed crop top, a snug baby pink number she’d snagged from Mary’s drawer the moment she saw it.

“You sure you don’t want this one back?” She asked, turning with a sly smile.

Mary grinned from where she knelt on the floor, digging through a pile of shorts. “Nah, it looks better on you anyway. Plus, I’m tryna go a little tomboy cute tonight. Let folks know I got range.”

Juicy laughed and adjusted the hem of the top. “I still can’t believe you keep clothes like this tucked away. What else you got hiding in this closet, Mary Poppins?”

Mary tossed a pair of high-waisted denim shorts at her and stood. “Years of thrift and heartbreak, that’s what. You look cute, girl.” Mary said, admiring Juicy’s reflection in the mirror as she tucked one side of her shirt behind her belt loop.

“You think?” Juicy asked, checking herself out with a slight turn.

“I know. Keith might choke on his words if he see you like that.” Mary teased, bumping her with her hip.

“Don’t start.” Juicy warned, grabbing her flip phone and slipping it into her back pocket. “I’m tryna skate, not entertain.”

By the time they made it downstairs, dusk was slipping through the windows, casting the living room in a warm honey-glow. They laughed all the way down the hall, the sound of their sneakers and flip-flops echoing against the hardwood. The smell of baked chicken and cornbread drifted from the kitchen where Missy was pulling something from the oven. She was a sharp woman, always dressed even when she was home, with earrings in her ears and her hair pinned up with care.

“Where y’all headed?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder. “To the rink.”Mary answered, swinging into the kitchen to grab a bottled water. “Me and Juicy. It’s ladies’ night so we get in for free.”

Missy arched a brow, her lips already curling with suspicion. “Who all gonna be there?”

“Just us.” Mary said with a shrug. Missy turned to look directly at Juicy, a woman-to-woman kind of look, as if she knew her daughter could get a little wild sometimes, but Juicy? She trusted Juicy. Still…

Juicy stepped forward. “We’re not doing anything crazy, Missy. Just skating, maybe a slice of pizza and back before midnight.”

Missy’s eyes narrowed just slightly, still unconvinced.

That’s when Stack’s voice cut in from behind. “Me and Smoke gon’ be there too, Miss Miss.” He said smoothly. “Ain’t nothin’ gone happen to them with us around.” He was lounging against the archway, arms folded and keys twirling on one finger, decided to chime in.

Missy turned to look at him, eyes softening a bit. “You and Elijah?”He nodded, stepping into view and flashing her that easy, boyish smile. “Yes, ma’am. Promise they’ll be good.”

“Well…”She said, resting a hand on her hip and looking from Juicy to Mary and back. “As long as y’all got some backup, I don’t see no problem with it. I know Juicy’s a good girl.”

Mary rolled her eyes dramatically. “Here we go…”

Missy leaned against the counter, folding her arms. “Juicy, baby, what you been up to now that school’s out?”She asked. Juicy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just… enjoying the break while I can. Taking it easy, having fun, you know?”

“Well, I hope not too much fun.” Missy said with a teasing tilt in her voice. Juicy groaned, throwing her head back while Mary cackled. “Missy…”

“Oh come on.” Mary waved her hand. “You know she’s not that kind of girl.”

“I know, I know.” Missy said with a nod. “But I also know how these boys around here get. They see a sweet girl like you and think they can play you.”

“I’ll be fine.” Juicy said, her tone reassuring but calm.

Missy hummed, then tilted her head. “Speaking of, how’s it goin’ with that Powers boy? What’s his name—Kevin?”

“Keith.” Juicy and Mary corrected at the same time.

Stack raised an eyebrow, cutting a look toward Juicy, as well as Mary, who avoided their eyes. “Mm.” Stack muttered under his breath, eyes sliding over Juicy’s figure.

Missy chuckled. “Right, Keith! How’s he doin’? I know he’s sweet on you. I’ve seen the way that boy look at you when he mowin’ that lawn. Almost broke his neck tryin’ to catch a glimpse.”

Juicy sighed, her smile bashful and soft as she avoided Stack’s gaze. “I think he’s doing fine.”

“You think?” Missy prodded.

Juicy shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, we’re not together. We barely even talk. He’s just… around. I don’t know why everyone’s so pressed about who I’m supposedly dating.”

“Because you’re a nice girl.” Missy said plainly, “And nice girls should have nice young men in their corner.”

“Well, I’m not interested in none of that right now,” Juicy replied gently. “I’m going to school and getting my degree. That’s the goal.”

Missy nodded thoughtfully, her tone softening. “I hear you. But don’t work so hard you forget to enjoy yourself. Everybody needs somebody in their corner. Even the strong girls.”

“I am enjoying myself.” Juicy said, her voice just as gentle.

Their eyes met for a moment, the quiet between them holding weight. Missy smiled then, a glint of pride flashing in her eyes, just before something else crossed then as she looked at the girl.

“Have you talked to your parents?” She asked after a pause.

“Mama.” Mary hissed, shooting her mom a warning look as Juicy stiffened slightly. Stack eyed the women, wondering why was going on.

“What?” Missy said, raising her hands. “I’m just asking. I talked to Serena this morning—”

“It’s okay,” Juicy cut in smoothly. “Uh, no, I haven’t spoken to them in a bit, but it’s just been… you know, school. Finals. Everything’s been a blur. I’ll reach out soon, though.” She reassured, but wanting nothing more than that part of the conversation to be over. Stack eyes the girl, seeing the way she had stiffened at the mention of her parents.

Missy hummed again, slow and understanding. “Alright. Long as you do.”She then clapped her hands once and pointed toward the door. “Now go on. Get dressed, go skate, and have some clean fun. Y’all hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Both girls said at the same time, heading for the door.

Missy turned to Stack on their way out. “And you better come visit me again soon. Bring Elijah with you. I got questions for that boy.”

Stack grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

As the screen door creaked open and the sun spilled across the porch, Juicy caught herself thinking—still feeling the heat of Missy’s words, of Stack’s lingering gaze, and the weight of everything unspoken hanging between them.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

By the time the sun had started its lazy descent behind the neighborhood rooftops, the girls were back at Juicy’s house with Stack pulling into her driveway like he belonged there. He cut the engine, and hopped out of the car, just as Smoke came out of the Hall home, watching as Juicy and Mary dashed past him.

“We taking them to the rink now.” Stack said, watching the girls disappear into the house. He watched as Smoke’s face morphed into one of annoyance, but he continued before his brother could express his discontent verbally. “I promised Missy I’d keep an eye on them. You in? Cause I know you ain’t got none better to do.”

Smoke shot him a look. “Yeah, whatever nigga.” He said.

They crossed the street to their place, casual and unbothered, stepping into the familiar scent of cologne and laundry detergent. The music thumping faintly from Stack’s room gave the air a soft pulse while the boys got changed—nothing fancy, just fresh fits and cologne. They weren’t skating, but they weren’t about to show up looking like they didn’t belong either.

By the time they were back outside, posted in the car and waiting, the sky had shifted to blue, the street lights casting long shadows across the pavement. The car windows were rolled down halfway, the breeze just enough to cool the sweat off their necks. They didn’t say much—just let the music play and kept an eye on the house.

An hour passed before the front door opened again.

Juicy stepped out first, her curves hugged by denim jeans and a tight off-the-shoulder top the color of blush wine. Her skin caught the soft shimmer of the porch light, collarbones on display and hair done up in that effortless way that still looked like it took forever. Mary trailed after her in a cute, more sporty outfit—a cropped tee Juicy had let her borrow and a skirt with built-in shorts underneath.

Smoke leaned forward. “That’s them?” He asked, since he couldn’t quite see the door from the page her seat,

“That’s them.” Stack said with a little smile, unlocking the doors. “Hop in.” He called out to them.

The girls jogged up to the car, Juicy opening the back door on Smoke’s side with a teasing smirk. “Y’all wasn’t gon’ leave without us, right?”

“You know I wouldn’t dream of it.” Smoke said, sliding his phone into his pocket.

The ride to the rink was filled with soft music and low chatter, the windows cracked to let in the cooling night air. The city was still humming—streetlights flickering, kids biking down sidewalks, couples walking hand in hand, and the occasional honk from a car passing through a yellow light. It was summer energy—slow but charged, with laughter always somewhere in the background.

By the time they reached the rink, the parking lot was alive with it. Cars lined up like a pop-up car show—hoods open, music blasting, boys leaned back on their trunks with drinks in hand and girls circling like butterflies. The smell of hot food, cherry slushies, and lit blunts hung thick in the air. Laughter mixed with the low thrum of bass-heavy music and the metallic clang of skates hitting pavement.

Martin and the crew were already there, posted on the hoods of their cars, chopping it up like they ran the block.

“There go our people.” Smoke nodded, gesturing toward them.

“You go on.” Stack said, looking back at the girls. “We’ll meet y’all inside.”

“Say less.”Mary said, hand in hand with Juicy as she led them to the building while the men were already veering toward Martin and the crew.

Juicy and Mary stepped into the rink like they’d done it a thousand times before—confident, cute, and catching attention. Inside, the air was cooler, tinged with sweat and slushie syrup, the wooden floors gleaming under the multicolored lights that spun in slow circles above. The DJ booth was lit up, music flowing loud but smooth, classic 2000s R&B remixes with just enough bass to keep the rhythm.

Near the tables by the rink, Sharee and the girls from earlier were lounging, drinks in hand and skates already laced up, legs stretched across benches. The moment they spotted Mary and Juicy, they perked up.

“Heeyy!” Sharee waved, sliding out from behind the table with practiced ease. “Look who finally showed up.”

“You know we had to get cute first.” Juicy teased, laughing.

“You didn’t have to try that hard.” One of the other girls said, eyes sweeping Juicy’s figure. “Damn, girl.”

Mary bumped her shoulder, grinning. “Told you this top was gon’ cause a problem.”

“Let’s get you laced up.” Sharee said, already pulling them toward the counter. “The floor’s live tonight.”

Back outside, Stack and Smoke dapped up Martin and the others. They leaned against hoods slick with the day’s heat, cooling drinks in hand and shoes crisp as new, now matter the scuffs they faced from the street. A few of the guys had new cuts, fresh white tees, gold glinting under the glow of streetlamps. They talked hoops, girls, and music—nothing deep, just that loud, layered kind of conversation that could only happen between boys who’d grown up together.

“You came out with Juicy?” One of Martin’s homeboys asked them, flicking ash off his blunt. They glanced at Martin, who was too busy rubbing up on some shock to even pay attention to their conversation.

Stack shrugged. “Yeah, she’s with Mary. Promised her mama I’d keep an eye out. Plus, it ain’t nothin’ wrong with a lil rink night.”

Smoke grinned. “Girls look too good to let ‘em come alone anyway.”

Everyone laughed, the night stretching wide in front of them like a scene from a coming-of-age movie, the kind where nothing big had to happen for it to feel unforgettable.

Inside, Juicy stepped onto the rink, her body finding the rhythm easily, hips swaying as she slid across the polished wood. The girls flanked her and Mary, all of them catching the music like they were made for it. Lights danced across their skin, and for a moment, the world outside the rink—the boys, the pressure, the expectations—melted away.

And it felt good.

The rink was buzzing, the air thick with the sugary scent of concession stand snacks and body spray. Colored lights flickered overhead in lazy circles, casting moving shadows over the skating bodies below. Music thumped with a throwback beat, and the floor pulsed under the weight of roller wheels. Girls glided in tight curves, boys tried to show off, and somewhere in the chaos, Mary and Juicy were exactly where they were supposed to be—together, laughing, skating fast and carefree.

But even in the haze of fun, it didn’t take long for the cracks to show

They’d met up with Sharee and the girls by the tables again, and as soon as Juicy and Mary sat down to catch their breath, the gossip started flowing like soda from the fountain machine.

“You see what Jaleesa got on?” One girl leaned over, dragging a French-tipped nail through her hair. “I know she saw that little muffin top when she looked in the mirror.”

“Girl, don’t play.” Another snickered. “She wore that on purpose, swear she thick now ‘cause she got some new jeans.”

Juicy raised her brows, sipping from her slushie with furrowed brows. Mary met her eyes with the same familiar look—Here we go.

They listened, half-engaged, nodding here and there, but it was the same old routine. The moment one of the girls left to go say hey to someone else, she became the next topic.

“Did y’all peep how Destiny keeps skating past Keith like she don’t seem him?”

“Mmhm, and acting like she didn’t cry when he stopped messing with her.”

“She was real loud last week talking about how she ‘don’t care about no boy’—now look.”

Juicy and Mary both leaned back a little. It wasn’t like they were innocent—hell, they had sharp tongues too, but something about the girls’ energy was just off. And it’s something they peered everyone they were asking the girls they considered acquaintances. It was loud and fake and dipped in desperation. The kind of thing you could only stomach in small doses.

Mary leaned over and whispered, “They so fake. And boy-crazy. Like, get a grip.”

“Girl.” Juicy said, voice dry. “You one to talk.”

Mary laughed. “I like men. That don’t mean I’m dumb about it.”

“No,” Juicy agreed, “You just use ‘em.”

“And they love it.” Mary flipped her hair and looked over the rink like a queen surveying her kingdom. “These chicks only keep us around ‘cause dudes still be thinkin’ I’m exotic or whatever.” She said in disgust. “Only white girl they ever seen with a little edge and ass.”

Juicy smirked. “And me?”

“Please. You know why, Miss Juicy. All them boys lookin’ at you like you a prize they ain’t won yet. You know every boy in here waitin’ for you to slip up and let one of ‘em get a taste.

Juicy rolled her eyes. “That’s ‘cause I ain’t let none of ‘em hit.”

“Exactly,” Mary said with a wink. “Mystery makes ‘em drool.” She smirked, taking a sip of her drink before starting again. “And they don’t even like each other for real.”

Juicy laughed low. “Tell me about it.”

“They just keep us around for clout. Me ‘cause dudes still think I’m exotic or some shit.” Mary said, her voice only for Juicy as she scoffed in disgust.

Juicy rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. She knew how they looked at her—especially now. She’d grown into herself, thick in the right places, cute with a touch of mystery, and still untouched. That part made them more curious. She hated it sometimes.

“You the main one they scared of.” Mary added, nudging her. “They’re trynna peep who you want and act accordingly for themselves.”

“Too bad none of ‘em will get anything from me.” Juicy said sweetly, standing up. “I need me something sweet.”

She rolled off on the carpet, coasting across the floor toward the concession stand. Her body moved with practiced grace, her skates soft against the rhythm of the music. The line was short, just two people in front of her, and soon she was at the counter, fingers tapping lightly as she placed her order.

“One strawberry cotton candy, please.” She said, already fishing out her few crumpled dollars.

And then, rolling up beside her on silent wheels, came Keith.

“Didn’t expect to see you off the floor.” He said with that easy, boyish smile that always lingered too long. Juicy looked over at him, trying not to grin but failing. “Didn’t expect to be stalked at the snack bar either.”

He laughed. “Stalked? I’m offended. This here’s just coincidence.”

“Mhm. Coincidence got you skating all the way over here, huh?” She questioned, waiting for the man to come back with her sweet treat. “I call that audacity.”

Before he could answer, the concession guy came back, handing Juicy her fluffy, pink cotton candy wrapped around a paper cone. Juicy reached into her pocket, but Keith slid his hand in first, already paying.

“Come on, Keith.” Juicy frowned, smacking his shoulder lightly. “I had that.”

“Nah, let me.” He said with a grin. “Sweet stuff for a sweet girl, ain’t that what they say?” He smirked, causing Juicy to side eye him, though the blush was undeniable. “Oh, you are so corny.”

“But you smiled, didn’t you?”

She tried not to, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her. “Barely.”

“So not funny, but corny and generous.” He said he said with a shrug, plucking a piece of her cotton candy before she could stop him.

“Boy, get your sticky hands out my—!” She laughed, trying to shield the candy, but he grinned through it, teasing her as they shared space there by the counter. “Oh, no sir. You didn’t even ask.”

He popped the bite in his mouth anyway, laughing. “Mmm. Tastes better when it’s yours.”

“You are triflin’.”Juicy muttered, spinning away, but she was grinning. And then, right on cue, Sammie’s voice came over the speakers, smooth as syrup and twice as slick:

“Alright, alright, alright. Y’all know what time it is—it’s 10 o’clock and that means love jams, baby. If you got you a lil somethin’ somethin’ or wanna get you a lil somethin’ somethin’—this is the part where you skate up close. We playin’ them slow ones now. Lovers only.”

The lights dimmed slightly, shifting to a warm red-and-purple glow, and the first slow song came on—“So Into You” by Tamia sliding in soft and sensual.

Keith looked over at Juicy, cotton candy still in hand, his smile tilting into something more. “You wanna skate with me?” He asked.

Juicy blinked, caught off guard. “What, like now?” She asked as she put a piece of cotton in her mouth.

He glanced at her lips as she sat and nodded. “What about my candy?” Juicy said. “I just got it. And I can’t have it in the rink.” She said, giving him a flat look, only for him to grin wider and say. “I’ll buy you another one. Maybe even two more.”

“You makin’ some big promises.” She said, eyes narrowed playfully.

“I’m good for it.” He smirked. And something about the way he said it—smooth, sure, not cocky but real—made her believe it.

She sucked her teeth, laughing. “You are somethin’ else.”

“You like it.” He said simply, holding out his hand.

“Please.” Juicy scoffed. The them look down at his hand, and she hesitated just a beat—long enough to feel that nervous flutter in her chest—but then she set her cotton candy down and took his hand, warm and sure in hers.

“Come on, Miss Hall.” He said, tugging her gently toward the rink as the beat throbbed and couples began pairing off under the dim, romantic glow.

And just like that, they rolled out together, hands locked, the world around them fading for a little while as Tamia sang softly overhead and the air spun slow with sweet summer magic.

Juicy and Keith were giggling like two kids sharing secrets, fingers laced as they rolled in unison across the floor, their skates moving in an easy rhythm.

Juicy’s cheeks were still a little pink, but it wasn’t from skating—it was from Keith leaning in too close, whispering nonsense in her ear that had her biting her lip to keep from smiling too wide. Every now and then, he tugged her hand to spin her, and though she wobbled, she laughed and let him pull her back, their fingers never losing contact.

They ignored the eyes, because there were eyes. Girls posted up by the benches, whispering and frowning behind manicured hands. Boys paused mid-glide to try and piece together who Keith was, and why Juicy—the thicker, glowing, and untouchably pretty girl—was giggling with that square. The looks were hot, heavy, and nosy, but neither of them paid it much mind. Not tonight.

Across the way, Mary had peeled off from the rink, gliding smoothly toward the concession stand with her usual sway, flipping her hair over her shoulder like she was walking a runway. Her eyes scanned the crowd lazily, but they sharpened the second she noticed a familiar figure at the entrance.

Smoke.

He walked in slow, scanning the place like he owned it, his eyes low but alert. He didn’t come to skate, not really. He’d told himself he was just checking in, that maybe Mary or Juicy needed a ride or an excuse to leave if things got too messy. But the truth was more complicated—more annoying to admit. He just wanted to see her. Juicy.

He clocked Mary first, her red lips curved into a knowing smile as she spotted him. She raised her hand and waved, but he barely gave a nod before his gaze drifted past her—to the rink.

And then he saw them.

Juicy.

And some dude.

Holding hands.

Skating like they were in a damn music video.

Smoke’s jaw tightened, not all the way, but enough that Mary caught it when she walked up beside him, sipping from Juicy’s forgotten cotton candy. “Didn’t know you were coming in tonight.” She said casually, leaning one hip against the wall.

Smoke didn’t answer right away. His eyes were locked on the couple on the rink that guy with his laid-back smile and cocky posture, Juicy with her radiant laugh and those soft brown thighs thick in her jeans as she spun around, smiling over her shoulder.

He didn’t recognize the boy. And he didn’t like that he didn’t recognize the boy.

“Who’s that?” He asked, still watching.

Mary licked a bit of cotton candy from her thumb, eyes twinkling. “Keith. We went to school with him, but he and Juicy’s dint started talking until a few months back. He been sniffin’ around since.”

“Yeah?” Smoke muttered, eyes narrowing slightly.

“She ain’t locked down with him or anything.” Mary said, a little too pleased. “Girls gotta skate with somebody.”

Smoke didn’t laugh. He crossed his arms, watching the way Keith spun Juicy one more time, then pulled her close so they glided side by side, nearly shoulder to shoulder, laughing about something only they could hear.

He wasn’t mad. Not really. But something settled low in his gut. Tight. Irritating.

He’d seen Juicy laugh before—she always had a laugh that felt like honey, thick and warm and sweet—but he hadn’t seen her laugh like that for another dude.

That was his girl.

Except she wasn’t.

He had only just gotten back and now he seemed to want this new version of Juicy he was seeing before him. He was just like every other guy, but they had history. He knew her better than she knew herself, and he wanted her before any other guy could come along and ruin the beautiful woman she was becoming.

But since he’s been back, he’s never made a move. Never said anything. Just hovered in her space like a shadow, being there when she needed him, listening when she talked, watching when she wasn’t looking. And now, someone else had slipped into the light.

Smoke’s fingers twitched at his sides.

Mary, sensing the tension, leaned in a bit. “Stack’s been askin’ about her too.“ Smoke’s head turned slowly toward her, a frown tugging at his lip. “Stack?”

She shrugged, smirking. “What can I say? She’s a catch.”

He didn’t respond. Just stared back at the rink where Juicy and Keith moved in sync, the lights reflecting off her skin like she was glowing from the inside out.

Mary nudged him. “You wait too long, Smoke, someone else gon’ scoop her up. That girl is gold. Every boy in this building got their eye on her.”

Smoke didn’t look at Mary, but his voice dropped low, quiet.

“She don’t belong to nobody.”

Mary’s smirk grew. “Not yet.” She said.

They stood in silence for a moment, watching the two on the floor finish the song, Juicy still giggling as Keith led her to the edge of the rink. He said something that made her shake her head and laugh harder, brushing his hand off her shoulder in mock annoyance.

Smoke’s fingers curled loosely into fists at his sides. The lights dimmed again, a new slow jam beginning to play. He watched Keith lean down, whisper something in her ear, and watched her smile, wide and unguarded.

Smoke didn’t move. Didn’t storm over. He wasn’t up for a show like that at the moment. But his jaw locked, and his gaze darkened, his stance quiet and unreadable. Mary tilted her head, watching him. “She ain’t picked yet, y’know.” She said, and Smoke finally glanced her way, catching the grin she was giving him. “But they sure tryna make her.”

And with that, she stepped away, cotton candy in hand, hips swaying back toward the crowd, leaving Smoke alone at the entrance, still watching Juicy like she was his favorite secret.

The music began to fade, the rink’s lights lifting into a lazy spin overhead, casting a golden shimmer across the floor. Juicy and Keith slowed to a halt, still holding hands, breathless from skating and laughing. She gave him a soft smile, her hand slipping from his fingers as they made their way off the rink, shoes tapping back onto solid ground.

Just before they could grab their seats or even decide what came next—maybe snacks, maybe a few more laps—Smoke appeared.

Before Keith could speak, before Juicy could even brace herself, Smoke’s hand wrapped gently but firmly around her wrist. He didn’t say a word, didn’t spare Keith a glance, and pulled her away as if he’d been looking for her all night.

“Hey—” Keith started, but stopped when Juicy gave him a small smile over her shoulder, eyes soft, waving her fingers as if to say, It’s okay. I know him.

She did.

Even if she didn’t always know what to do with him.

“Who is that?” Smoke asked, low and rough, not even glancing back at her as they moved. Juicy stumbled slightly on her wheels, nearly losing her balance.

She huffed. “Smoke—”

But instead of shaking him off, she reached out and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, resting her chin just barely against his shoulder. He didn’t let go right away, but her warmth did something to him—made his grip shift, his hands finding a resting place on her hands that were placed on his abdomen as she coasted behind him. She wasn’t walking. Wasn’t skating. Just letting him pull her along like he was gravity and she was the moon.

“Why is that any of your business?” She asked, voice drowsy with irritation.

Smoke slowed a little but didn’t stop. “Because you are my business.” He said, tone flat but firm. “And I asked politely.”

Juicy sighed, eyes rolling so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall right out her head. These twins—always in her damn orbit.

“That’s Keith.” She muttered.

Smoke veered toward one of the booths near the edge of the rink, dragging her the last few feet before sliding in without asking. She didn’t sit across from him. Not yet. She stood there, leaning her weight on the table, hovering like some storm he couldn’t ignore. Her brown skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, and her denim jeans gripped her thick thighs in a way that made Smoke’s gaze flick there—just for a second—before dragging itself back to her face.

“And who’s Keith?” He asked, tone deceptively neutral. Juicy blinked, arms crossed. “What do you mean, who is he?”

Smoke tilted his head, voice a little sharper now. “Who are his folks? What’s he do? How you know him?”

Juicy raised a brow. “Is he my boyfriend now?”

“That too.” He said, calm, but unblinking.

Juicy took a breath and finally plopped into the booth across from him, sliding in slow, arms still crossed beneath her chest. Her legs stretched out under the table, brushing against his.

“He’s from Clinton. The Powers people.” She began, tone clipped. “His daddy owns that car wash off Main and his mama runs the beauty shop next door. I sweep floors there on Saturdays. He’s got other folks—one granddaddy’s a preacher, the other’s a retried principle, I think. Keith’s a sophomore at Morehouse. Same year as me, but he came back for the summer.”

Smoke listened, his face unreadable, only the slow tightening of his jaw betraying how closely he was taking it all in.

Juicy kept going. “We went to Provine together. Barely talked. He played basketball. His sister was prom queen. But when he came back about a month ago, we started talking a little. Nothin’ serious. He brought his boys down to see what Mississippi life is like.”

Smoke raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And what?”

“He your boyfriend?”

Juicy gave a dry little chuckle. “No. And I don’t think I’m interested either.”

He leaned back a little, arms stretching over the back of the booth. “What do you mean, you think?”

“I mean what I said.” Juicy’s gaze dipped for a second, her voice losing some of its edge. “He’s cool. Sweet, even. But I don’t know. Something about him feels more… friend-like.”

Smoke nodded slowly, lips twitching like he wanted to smile but didn’t. He looked up at her fully now, meeting her gaze as she halfway sat up on the table, the curve of her body framed by the light above.

Juicy tilted her head, eyeing him.

“Why are you and Stack so interested in who I’m dating, huh?” She asked, a teasing edge returning to her voice. “What? Y’all interested or something?”

Smoke didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

“In you?” Be asked, voice low. “Yeah.”

Juicy froze.

For a beat, she wasn’t sure she heard him right. Her lips parted, brows knitting together just slightly. “Huh?” She asked, breath quieter than before.

Smoke licked his lips, never taking his eyes off her. “You heard me.”

The air between them thickened, her heart skipping a beat even though she didn’t want it to. He was sitting there, arms stretched like he wasn’t affected, but his eyes—those deep brown eyes—were watching her like she was the only thing he saw in the whole damn rink.

She stared at him, mouth still slightly open, heart thudding against her ribs like it wanted to leap out and slap her.

And then, softly—so softly—she smiled. Not wide. Not flirty. Just… soft.

Like maybe, just maybe, she’d been waiting for him to say it. “Smoke—” Juicy began, but Mary interrupted, her voice sharp as she rushed over to them.

“Sharee’s fighting some girl outside over Jarod.”

Juicy gasped, her eyes widening. “What?”

Mary grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the large windows overlooking the parking lot. They skated over, their wheels clacking against the floor, and pressed against the glass, trying to get a clear view, Smoke right behind them.

Outside, under the harsh glow of the parking lot lights, a crowd had gathered. Sharee was in the center, her hair wild, arms flailing as she shouted at another girl. The other girl, equally animated, was yelling back, her friends trying to hold her back. The tension was palpable, the crowd’s energy feeding the chaos.

Suddenly, fists flew. Sharee lunged, grabbing the other girl’s hair, pulling her down. The crowd erupted, some cheering, others trying to intervene. Men began to get involved, pushing and shoving, the fight escalating beyond control.

Juicy’s eyes scanned the crowd, her heart pounding. She spotted one of Donavan’s boys throwing a punch at one of Martin’s homeboys. Her stomach dropped. She knew what was coming.

She gasped, stepping back from the glass. Smoke stood behind her, his eyes fixed on the scene outside.

“Where you going?” He asked, his voice low.

“Martin’s out there.” She replied, trying to remove her skates. Smoke grabbed her arm, his grip firm. “You’re not going out into that bullshit.”

“My brother’s out there; something could pop off.”She scoffed, struggling against his hold.

“And he’s a grown-ass man who can make his own decisions.” Smoke hissed, tightening his grip. “What the hell are you gonna do, huh? Stop the fight? Yell?” His voice was as fine as he stare as she looked down at her.

Juicy paused, her eyes meeting his, fire blazing within them. Before she could respond, the sharp crack of gunshots rang out. Three shots, each one louder than the last.

She gasped, turning toward the window, but Smoke pulled her down, shielding her with his body. Mary dropped beside them, her hands over her head.

The rink fell silent, the music cutting off abruptly. Screams echoed from outside and inside as people scrambled for cover. Security rushed toward the exits, trying to restore order.

Amid the chaos, a familiar voice boomed over the commotion.

“Get yo ghetto asses on with this bullshit! Get the fuck outta here before I bust every last one of you!” Stack hollered, his voice cutting through the noise.

Smoke muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. Mary peeked over the window sill, her eyes wide with fear and curiosity.

The night had taken a dark turn, the once vibrant energy now replaced with tension and fear. Juicy clung to Smoke, her heart racing, unsure of what would come next.

The parking lot quieted in slow, tense waves, the smoke of chaos still lingering in the air like the fading scent of gunpowder. Tires squealed in the distance as the last of the scattered crowd peeled off, leaving only a few clusters behind—faces tense, adrenaline high.

Stack stepped through the roller rink doors, his presence commanding even without a word. He adjusted his oversized tee, slipping his piece back into the waistband of his jeans. The music hadn’t resumed. The rink was silent now, a thick hush of unease draped over everyone still inside.

His eyes scanned the crowd until they found Juicy crouched behind one of the snack counters, her curls wild, jaw clenched. Just as he opened his mouth to ask if she was okay, she pushed past him—skates gone, socks damp on the rink floor—and made a beeline for the exit.

Smoke was leaning against the wall nearby, arms folded. He met Stack’s glance and simply shrugged.

Mary, quick to catch on, stumbled after Juicy. “Ju!” she called out, struggling to keep up with her determined pace.

But Juicy had her eyes locked on someone else.

Her feet hit the pavement outside like a warning shot. “Are you fucking crazy?!” She snapped the moment her gaze landed on Martin, who was leaning against a car, arms crossed like he hadn’t just helped set the whole block on fire, cloths a little disheveled from the brief scrap he’d gotten into.

Martin sucked his teeth, clearly over it already. “Not now, Ju.”

“Not now?” She echoed, her voice rising. Her fists were balled at her sides, brows knitted in fury. “Not now?! Nigga, it obviously is now since you and these other dumbass niggas out here startin’ shit!”

Before Martin could even respond, Smoke and Stack jogged up from behind her, Smoke with her shoes in his hands, the gravel crunching beneath their sneakers. The streetlights cast long shadows, and the night felt heavier than ever.

“What the fuck is your problem, Martin?” Juicy went on, unrelenting. “Out here fighting—for fucking what? That shit didn’t even have anything to do with you!”

Martin’s jaw twitched. His hands dropped from his chest as he stepped forward, the tension between them flaring like fire to oil. “And it definitely ain’t got shit to do with you! So just shut the fuck up!” He pulled as she walked up on her.

Juicy reeled her head back, stunned at his tone and the way he was approaching her. The insult didn’t sting so much as the threat behind it did.

“Oh, so what, nigga?” She barked. “You were gonna hit me?!”

Smoke was already stepping between them, one firm hand on Martin’s chest. “Chill, Mar.” He said evenly, nudging him back just enough to plant a line in the dirt.

Martin’s nostrils flared. “All you fucking do is butt into shit that ain’t got shit to do with you! I’m handling my shit like a grown-ass man!”

“Handling it?!” Juicy yelled, the two of them shouting over each other now. “You tryna act hard in front of these broke-ass bitches with no fucking life, huh?! These fucking bums! You gonna put your fucking hands on me, huh?! That’s what you’re doing now?!”

“Juicy,” Mary whispered, catching up and tugging on her arm. “It’s okay.” Her voice was soft, but her grip was steel. She was trying to hold the girl back, to reel her in before it really got out of hand.

But it was already too late.

“Yeah, get your bitch before she gets her ass whooped.” A voice piped up from the sidelines.

Everyone turned.

A light-skinned girl stood next to Martin, arms folded, lip gloss gleaming under the streetlight. No one remembered her name—just that she was Martin’s latest. The flavor of the month. The disrespect in her voice was enough to turn the air toxic.

Juicy’s eyes snapped to her like a trigger being pulled. “Girl, shut the fuck up. Wasn’t nobody talking to you, bitch.” She spat.

The girl straightened. “Who you calling a bitch?”

“You, bitch!”Juicy and Mary said in perfect unison.

“Martin, you better get your sister and her lil’ friend.” The girl sneered. Martin looked at her like she had just spat on his momma’s grave. “Louie, shut the fuck up and mind your damn business.”

The air cracked with tension. The vibe was off, and everyone felt it.

That one sentence set everything off again. A whole new layer of commotion buzzed to life—heated glares, muttered curses, the tension between family and outsiders now reaching a boiling point. The looks from Stack, Smoke, even Mary—all shot straight toward Louie with collective disdain.

Juicy stepped forward again, but this time Smoke grabbed her from the side, lifting her by the waist with practiced ease. “Nah, baby. That ain’t worth it.” He murmured, his voice low and soothing in her ear even as his eyes stayed locked on Martin. He was handling it—but only barely.

“Let me go!” Juicy shouted, still swinging as he hauled her backward toward the car.

Mary wasn’t far behind, shouting over her shoulder, “Nah, you better watch your fucking mouth, you tired-ass hoe!”

“Bitch, who even are you?” Juicy spat over Smoke’s shoulder.

Louie opened her mouth again, but this time Stack got involved, stepping between the girls and throwing up his hands.

“Enough!” He barked, his tone sharp, slicing through the mess. “Y’all out here lookin’ real fucking dumb right now.”

Finally, after enough huffing and yelling and near blows, Smoke and Stack wrangled the two angry girls back into the car they came in. Mary got in first, pulling Juicy in behind her while still shooting death glares at Louie.

Martin, left to handle the foolish woman he was still stupidly sleeping with, didn’t say much else. Just shook his head, muttering something under his breath while Louie scoffed and rolled her eyes, clearly still not getting it.

The parking lot fell back into uneasy silence. Whatever heat had ignited earlier had burned itself down to embers—but the damage had been done. Lines had been drawn. And Juicy, still seething as the car door shut beside her.

The ride to Mary’s place was quiet, tired but quiet, the kind that settled in after long nights full of heat and mess and words better left unsaid. Smoke sat in the backseat, gazing out of the window as he smoked while Stack drove, hands loose on the wheel. Mary leaned forward between the seats from the passenger side, breaking the silence with a soft voice.

“I’m not staying over tonight.” She said. “Gotta be up early to help my mama shop.”

Juicy, nestled in the corner behind Stack, turned her head and smiled. “Call me. I’ll come with. Ain’t got shit better to do tomorrow.”

Mary grinned. “You sure?”

“I mean, I ain’t say I was reliable. But I’ll show up.”

They both laughed, their shared chuckles easing the final moments of the evening. Mary grinned. “Bet. I’ll call you after breakfast.”

When the car pulled up in front of her place, Mary opened the door, but before she stepped out, she and Juicy leaned toward each other, pressing cheek to cheek in their usual goodbye. A sweet ritual. One kiss each side, soft like sisters.

“Be safe.” Juicy murmured.

“You too.” Mary said, her eyes flickering toward Smoke for a second before hopping out. She offered a lazy wave, then disappeared behind her gate.

The silence returned as Stack finished the drive, turning down their block, the tires crunching soft under the gravel. They pulled up in front of their house, and the car shifted into park. Juicy reached for the door handle before Stack even turned off the engine.

“I’m out.” She said, already stepping out.

“I’m gonna walk her.” Smoke told Stack, nodding toward her as he slid across the backseat and stepped out himself. Stack gave a simple nod, already leaning back in the driver’s seat, half-asleep.

It was silent as the pair walked, and it wasn’t until Juicy was halfway up the porch steps when she looked over at him. “You know you didn’t have to walk me. I’m literally right across the street.” She said. The air was cooler than before, the night settling into its stillest hour.

“I know.” Smoke said, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. “But I’m just looking out for you.”

“I don’t need that. I’m fine.” She replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

He glanced at her, lips quirking. “I don’t know. Based on today? I’m sure you can handle yourself, but I don’t know if you should.” He quipped. And Juicy let out a short laugh, her breath fogging up in the night air. “You’re a mess.”

Silence hung between them again, thicker this time. He looked at her, really looked at her—like he could see beneath the tough exterior and find the girl who once used to braid ribbons into her curls and laugh with her whole chest.

“You got a key?” Smoke asked, breaking the quiet.

She blinked, pulled from her thoughts. “Uh, yeah.” She patted down her jean pockets, checking front, then back. ”…Somewhere.”

“If you don’t, you can always crash with us.” He offered casually. “There’s more than enough room, and I don’t want you waking Sinclair trying to get someone to open up.”

She laughed again, patting her back pocket now. “It’s okay. Here it is.”

Smoke watched her pull the key ring free, his mind drifting for a second when she turned around, her figure bending just slightly to line the key up with the locc since she couldn’t see that well in the dark without her glasses.

Couldn’t feel the key with all that ass back there, he thought, mouth twitching before he quickly checked himself, eyes raising the second she turned back to him. She looked soft again. The fire from earlier was gone, her stress dimmed like the rest of the night. Her eyes glimmered in the moonlight, lashes long and glossy lips catching what little light was left. Her voice broke the moment.

“Goodnight.” She said gently.

“Goodnight.” He replied, his voice low and a little rough.

Juicy started to push the door open but hesitated, turning to look back. Smoke was already descending the steps, his shoulders broad, head ducked, like he’d made peace with leaving.

“Smoke.” She called, stopping him.

He paused on about the third step, glancing back. “Yeah?”

Juicy lingered in the doorway. Her lips parted like she had something to say, but nothing came out. Her fingers played with the edge of her jacket sleeve. He noticed her nerves instantly.

“What is it, Ju?” He asked, brow narrowing in concern and stepping one foot up.

She swallowed. “Did you mean what you said?”

Smoke blinked. “What I said?” He questioned.

“Earlier.” She began softly. “At the rink. Did you mean it?”

There was a long pause—pregnant, heavy, something sitting thick between them that neither wanted to name just yet. The kind of silence that tugged on heartstrings and made the air feel full of something tender.

“I did.” He said simply. His voice was honest. Steady.

Juicy’s eyes fluttered once. Then something cracked open inside her, soft and trembling. She stepped forward without thinking, crossing the space between them in two strides and threw her arms around his neck, her lips landing on his in a kiss that felt like a storm giving way to calm. Her feet stayed on the porch while he stood a step below her, but he reached up for her like he’d been waiting.

His hands landed on her waist, a bit of warm skin meeting his fingers where her shirt had lifted. The contact was electric, but the kiss was affectionate—slow, meaningful. Her hand curled behind his head, thumb brushing over the waves at the nape of his neck.

The kiss was tentative. It was full of the quiet ache of wanting someone for a long time but never knowing if you could say it out loud. Her lips pressed against his like they belonged there, her body warm against his as she stood a step above him. His hands found her waist instantly, skin meeting skin where her shirt had ridden up, and he breathed her in.

Juicy’s hand found the back of his head, fingers threading into his waves. The kiss deepened, languid and tender, a slow dance of mouths and want and words they couldn’t say.

When they broke apart, the need for air becoming undeniable, Smoke didn’t move—just stared into her eyes, dazed. Her gloss left a faint trace on his lips, and she looked at it before meeting his gaze again.

“I feel the same.” She whispered, rubbing her nose against his.

He blinked, stunned for a beat. Smoke didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. catching her lips again in a kiss that was heavier, needier. His hands slid lower, resting just above the swell of her ass as her own hand tugged him closer. Juicy hummed into the kiss, and he swallowed the sound like a promise.

When they broke apart again, they couldn’t stop pecking each other’s lips—one, two, three soft kisses shared like a secret. Soft, delayed kisses, forehead to forehead, breath to breath, her eyes closed, and his stayed on her. She looked peaceful, and for a second, it felt like the world had gone quiet just for them.

Finally, Juicy leaned back, her palms resting lightly on his shoulders. “Have a good night, okay?”

Smoke nodded, and so did she. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, then turned and opened her door. Before disappearing, she looked back over her shoulder.

He was still watching her, eyes tender.

She smiled bashfully, locking the door behind her. Smoke lingered on the steps for a moment, heart still racing, lips still tingling. He exhaled through his nose, smiled to himself, and made his way back home across the street.

Everything felt different now. Everything felt like something had finally begun.

They would’ve stayed like that all night if the world would’ve let them.

But Juicy slowly pulled back, hands drifting to his shoulders. She looked into his face, eyes half-lidded and warm. “Have a good night, okay?”

Smoke nodded, his throat tight. “Yeah. You too.”

She leaned in one last time, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He didn’t move until she slipped inside, the door closing softly behind her. She paused just before locking it, her bashful smile the last thing he saw before the bolt slid home.

Smoke stood there for a moment longer, staring at the closed door. Then he exhaled through his nose, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and made his way across the street in silence.

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illichillie · 8 days ago

Text

A shadow of him

Lee Donghyuck x reader

summary: you try to summon your own doppelgänger with a spell that seems impossible. Tonight, the unthinkable happens, and you’re shocked to find out you managed to summon the doppelgänger of your boyfriend, Donghyuck, instead of your own. You’re even more shocked when you hear what he wants to do before he returns to his home world…

pairings: boyfriend!Donghyuck x female (afab) witch!reader x doppelgänger!Haechan

genre: smut, supernatural

cw: smut, supernatural, doppelgängers, witchcraft, magic, female reader, dub-con, creampie, p in v, selfcest (kinda), cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, Haechan is a tease lmao, use of petnames: baby, and mommy (jokingly)

this is heavily inspired by seeing double by @smileysuh !! Go read it now it’s incredible!!

english is not my first language so I apologize for any language errors!! MDNI under cut

You sat down in the small summoning circle you had managed to make, taking deep breaths as you opened your spell-book once again. Ever since you started practicing witchcraft, you hadn’t even been able to do a proper spell yet. Of course, you could do simple things, but you weren’t satisfied with that.

You didn’t learn witchcraft to do small, insignificant spells. No, you wanted something more to come out of this. That’s why you didn’t hesitate to flip through the pages until you reached the pages marked with red ink. Those were the most challenging spells in your book, but you knew you could do them.

For the last few days, this spell was the one you had tried your hardest to do. You could still recall the shock on your boyfriend’s face when you told him about your plan. To someone who wasn’t practicing, something like this would seem otherworldly and maybe even wrong, but you knew that this wasn’t frowned upon among other witches.

You had always been intrigued by the idea of doppelgängers. When you first found out they even existed, they became your little hyper-fixation. Creatures who resembled humans, but came from the other side. What was on the other side wasn’t entirely known to you, and it seemed the doppelgängers were the only creatures willing to come in contact with the human world. You beamed in excitement as you thought about getting to actually meet your own doppelgänger.

You watched as your candles magically lit up as your gaze met them, and hummed lowly before finally reading the words on the page. You worked extra hard on keeping your breathing steady, and felt the hairs on your neck raise as you continued reading.

You closed your eyes as you continued, having already memorized the spell from having tried it so many times. The words didn’t feel as foreign on your tongue as before, it was as if they just rolled off without struggle.

As you said the last words, you couldn’t help but feel a slight shift in the air around you. You kept your eyes closed for a few seconds before finally opening them, and your eyes couldn’t help but widen when you finally witnessed…

nothing.

You groaned in frustration. You were sure it was going to work this time. In a fit of anger, you quickly left the room, not even wanting to sit there in the humiliation of your failure.

You walked over to the kitchen, opening the fridge. Anything to try to get over this repeated cycle. You quickly closed the fridge door with an apple in hand, but immediately dropped it with a yelp when you were met with the presence of your boyfriend on the other side of the door.

”Don’t scare me like that H—”

Your eyes met his, and almost immediately, you could sense that something was off. You looked him up and down, but found nothing odd about what he was wearing. It was the same clothes he left in this morning.

He stayed quiet as he slowly walked towards you, his eyes wide and lips curled into an intrigued smirk.

”I didn’t hear you coming in,” you said in a small voice, still unsure of what was going on.

”Oh I didn’t take the front door, baby,” he answered, putting emphasis on the last nickname that your boyfriend loved to use. Your back collided with the kitchen wall as he made his way towards you, like a snake slithering towards its prey.

”Aren’t you the one who summoned me, hm?”

You felt as if your breathing stopped for a second. You watched as he smiled in amusement as you finally understood. ”But, I didn’t- I tried to summon a doppelgänger, and I—”

”You thought it would be one of you, didn’t you?” he asked as if reading your mind, leaning closer to your ear as his arms caged you between him and the wall.

”Seems like you were thinking about your little boyfriend an awful lot when you sat there, in your little makeshift circle.” You looked away in shame as he teased you for your skills, or lack thereof.

”I— didn’t know it worked like that,” you admitted, feeling degraded by his tone, and those sly eyes looking closely at you. You could feel his breath against your cheek, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little excited by the situation.

”Well now you know,” he said before letting out a light giggle and finally backing away from you. You let out a deep breath, but felt it get caught in your throat once again when you heard the sound of keys unlocking the front door. Without thinking much, you dragged your boyfriend’s doppelgänger into the nearest room, doing what he had just done to you. He looked at you with wide eyes as you pinned him against the wall.

”Ohh, so you can be dominant too, huh?~” he smirked before you finally covered his mouth, rolling your eyes.

”Baby! I’m home!” you heard Donghyuck say from the hall. You had to admit it felt weird to hear your boyfriend’s voice from the hall when you had an exact copy of him right in front of you, who was smiling into your hand, seemingly amused by your distress.

”Just a second!” you yelled through the door, before whispering to the man in front of you. ”Stay here, and don’t make a sound,” you ordered, trying your best to sound stern and tough. You slowly removed your hand from his mouth, seeing that big smile on him remaining. ”You want me to say ’yes mommy’ or something?” he whispered. You couldn’t help but blush at his airy tone, but just stormed off without answering his question.

You shot him a warning glance before finally leaving the room, not knowing how to act with the man who was standing right outside the door.

”Were you saying something?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows slightly. ”Nope!” you answered way too quickly. You tried to get his mind off of it by wrapping your arms around his neck, going in for a small kiss. He smiled, but kept looking suspiciously at you.

”You seem… on edge,” he said, making you stiffen even more in his hold. ”Well…” you trailed off, but as soon as you noticed where he was going next, you felt the panic creeping up on you. ”Wait!” you managed to say before he opened the door.

You didn’t even have to look at him to know what face he was making, instead, your eyes wandered to the doppelgänger, who stood there with a wide smile. ”Well hello, my other self!”

Your boyfriend slowly angled his head towards you, meeting your gaze with endless confusion. You looked away quickly. ”Alright, I guess I have some explaining to do…”

——————-

You couldn’t help but notice how the doppelgänger’s eyes bore into you as you explained the situation to your boyfriend. Neither could you ignore the feeling of his leg brushing up against yours under the dinner table, as he sat on the shorter side of it, in between you and Donghyuck who faced each other.

”Is this something that happens often?” Donghyuck asked, not directing the question to you. ”Yeah, it’s a common mistake, so don’t worry,” the man bext to you answered. ”However, it’s a little bit inconvenient that it had to happen today…” he trailed off. You gave him a look, waiting for him to continue.

”I have plans for tonight, y’know?” he pouted slightly. You made eye contact with your boyfriend, who seemed to already have grown tired of his look-alike. ”Uh-huh… And what do you want me to do about that? Is there any way for me to like… send you back?” you asked.

Suddenly, a devious smile coated the doppelgänger’s lips, as his eyes travelled between yours and your boyfriend’s.

”Well, you could always do me a favor,” he looked up innocently at Donghyuck, who gave you a confused glance, as if you knew what he was up to, to which you shook your head. ”And what favor would that be?” you asked, making him look back at you.

He hummed. ”Well… to put it simply,” he started, leaning over to sit closer to you, only to avert his attention back to your boyfriend. ”I would like to fuck your girlfriend!” he said in an all too casual tone.

”Excuse me!?” Donghyuck stood up from his chair. You just sat there, frozen, in disbelief. ”Hear me out, please,” the man next to you said, making Donghyuck slowly sit down again.

”She would basically just have sex with two of you! Or two of me, I guess—” he trailed off. ”How come you’re asking him and not me?” you interrupted.

He looked at you with a smirk, leaning in way too close for someone who almost felt like a stranger. ”Because I already know you’ll be up to it.”

”Really?” Donghyuck said. Your eyes widened in shock as you felt your cheeks heat up. ”I- I don’t—” you stuttered.

”She didn’t tell me per se, but reading human body language isn’t exactly hard.” The doppelgänger winked, leaning closer to Donghyuck instead. ”And since she’s the lover of my doppelgänger, it’s like I already know her, I know her body, I know her mind, her soul,” he continued, voice lowering. Donghyuck only looked at him with bewilderment.

”C’mon, you want to please your lovely girlfriend right? Your baby?” he tilted his head, never once breaking eye contact with Donghyuck.

”Well… I guess,” he said. You gasped in surprise. ”Amazing!” you heard the doppelgänger exclaim, standing up and taking both your and Donghyuck’s hands in his. ”Let’s go then!!”

”Hold on!” you said, making him stop in his tracks. ”I just want to talk about this with Donghyuck first,” you said. ”Alone.”

—————-

”Are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean, this feels very sudden to me, I can only imagine what it’s like for you,” you said, cupping Donghyuck’s face in your hands. He put his hands over yours, a smile on his face.

”I admit that it’s sudden but, now that I think about it… I’m not against the idea,” he admitted shyly. ”But are you sure this is okay?” he asked you, making you blush even more.

”Well, I think he’s right about… knowing my mind, and that stuff,” you admitted. ”And honestly, I kind of see him as an extension… of you,” you laughed a little bit at your own words. Donghyuck gave you a long kiss.

”Let’s do this then, he seems more than eager to finally get his hands on you,” he said, making you look away in shame. ”Can’t blame him though,” Donghyuck continued. ”I feel the exact same way.”

You entered your bedroom, the spell-book still lying open on the floor. You saw the doppelgänger look around the room curiously, looking through your crystals and books, a smile coating his lips. ”Ahh finally,” he said as he spotted the two of you. You could sense the hunger in his eyes as he pulled you closer to the bed. While he did look exactly like Donghyuck, there was something so sinister about his gaze, something so dark and alluring about his tone.

He wasted no time, pushing you down into the soft mattress, climbing on top of you. Your eyes searched for your boyfriend, but the man on top of you grabbed your face rather harshly. “You get to look at him every day, so focus on me now, kay?” he said. You nodded slowly. “Oh and also,” he said while slowly caressing your cheek. “Call me Haechan, so we don’t get confused.”

“Really? That nickname that I used to have?” Donghyuck scoffed, earning a side-glance of judgement from Haechan. “Yes, it sounds much cooler than Donghyuck.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the exchange.

You watched as Haechan whispered something in your boyfriend’s ear, making him nod before changing his position. You were slowly put into this position somewhere between sitting and lying down, with Donghyuck holding you in place from behind.

You felt his hot breath in your ear, making you shiver. “Undress her,” Haechan ordered, making you twitch in anticipation. You felt Hyuck’s hands touch your skin delicately as he slowly took off your shirt. Haechan slowly took off his own shirt as well, looking deep into your eyes as he did so.

Haechan’s hands started fiddling with your zipper, eagerly getting your pants off. “Can’t wait to see you, baby,” he said in that whispery tone that you had already learned to love. You squirmed a little bit as the cold air hit your legs, and couldn’t help but feel exposed in only your underwear.

“Bra too,” Haechan ordered Donghyuck, to which he obeyed immediately. “Have you ever seen your boyfriend in such a state, hm?” Haechan asked you, running his hands up and down your bare thighs that you unconsciously tried to close together. “He’s so obedient right now, so submissive,” he whispered. “He’ll do anything I say…”

You looked away from Haechan as Donghyuck finally got your bra off. “Don’t be shy now,” Haechan sang as his fingers slowly reached the waistband of your panties. “I’m going to make sure to see every little part of this body of yours.”

You shivered as he pulled your panties off, closing your legs together. “This doesn’t feel fair,” you groaned slightly, seeing as you were the only one who was completely undressed.

“Who said anything about this being fair?” Haechan teased. You took a shaky breath as he spread your legs apart, looking between them with a smile. “I knew you were turned on but this?” he almost laughed, collecting a little bit of your wetness with his fingers. “This is really dirty, baby,” he tilted his head.

“Keep looking at me,” Haechan said, to which you obliged, watching as he slowly took his fingers into his mouth and licked and sucked. You felt Donghyuck’s fingers playing with your nipples, rubbing slow circles that made you whine in desperation. “Such a good girl,” he whispered in your ear from behind, sending shivers down your spine.

“Hyuck, keep her legs apart for me,” Haechan said after pulling his fingers out of his mouth with a lewd pop. Donghyuck’s legs looped around yours to keep them spread, as he continued touching your nipples, pinching and pulling.

“I’ve been dying to taste you ever since I first saw you,” Haechan said in almost a whine. Contrary to his controlled and dominant actions, you could hear the desperation and yearning in his voice, see the lust in his eyes.

You felt your boyfriend getting hard behind you, pushing up against your back, and you couldn’t help but grow eager yourself.

But no, Haechan was slow, calculated and such a tease, even worse than Donghyuck. His plump lips slowly kissed your stomach, his hands resting on your thighs, way too close to your aching heat for you to ignore it. “Please,” you whined out without even thinking about it. “Hm? Please what?” Haechan separated himself from your skin, making you twitch ever so slightly. “Please Haechan— I need you,” you let out.

Your boyfriend let out an amused hum from behind you. “So desperate,” he whispered. “You like having two of me huh?”

You simply nodded as Haechan’s fingers drew small circles on the skin of your inner thighs. “Be patient,” he said before continuing his slow teasing, a small giggle leaving his mouth as he kissed you. Your eyes met his as he looked up from his spot, and you saw the way he smiled when you let out a whimper as Donghyuck continued pinching your nipples.

You felt your boyfriend’s lips meet your neck, sucking and licking, and that only added to the sensations. Four hands, two mouths and an ache inside you, begging to be satisfied.

When you could swear Haechan had reached where you wanted his lips the most, he instead opted to start kissing your thighs, making your hips buck up slightly. You writhed around, trying to grab his head, but Donghyuck was quick to grab you, giving your sensitive buds a rest to instead hold your hands in his. “Please Haechan,” you said, looking down at him desperately.

He only giggled, continuing his slow work. “You want a little distraction?” Hyuck whispered. You immediately nodded, making him turn your head to kiss you hungrily. You could tell he needed it too, with how handsy he had been, how his hips had slowly moved against you from behind you, and the way he was almost panting in your ear. You felt his tongue against yours, but you were far from distracted, you just wanted more.

As if Haechan could read your mind, that’s when he finally licked a long stripe between your legs, making your breath hitch. Contrary to his previous actions, his tongue moved quickly, flicking over your clit as his hands gripped your thighs.

Donghyuck continued kissing and sucking at your neck as Haechan’s tongue worked wonders between your legs. You tried to hold back your noises, but you couldn’t stop them from leaving your parted lips. “That’s it baby,” you heard your boyfriend praise, caressing your hands that he still held in his.

You gasped when Haechan slowly inserted two of his fingers inside of you, curling them upwards as his tongue moved quickly. You tried to close your legs slightly, the sensations being too much to bear, but Haechan just slapped your thigh and made a noise of disapproval. You felt Donghyuck’s legs hold yours down with greater force, making you throw your head back at the unavoidable pleasure of Haechan’s fingers and mouth.

“Hey,” Donghyuck said, and you could tell he was talking to his doppelgänger, not you. “Don’t get carried away,” he said, sounding almost a little grumpy. “She’s my girlfriend, not yours.”

You could barely focus on their conversation as Haechan’s fingers picked up the pace. “Oh please,” he just said before continuing to lick you. “Can’t you tell— that she loves it?” Haechan said in between licks. Hyuck let out what almost sounded like a growl.

You felt yourself getting close, your hands gripping your boyfriend’s, legs trembling slightly. Hyuck’s teeth grazed your neck slightly as Haechan continued pushing you closer to orgasm.

“There you go baby,” one of them said, you could barely tell who was who in the state you were in, but that was the last thing you heard before pushing over the edge and letting out a loud moan. Your entire body trembled as Haechan continued violently licking and sucking your clit, his fingers still keeping a steady rhythm inside of you.

Right when Hyuck’s hands left yours you were quick to grab a hold of Haechan’s dark locks, pulling slightly to stop the overstimulation that was about to make you cry. He didn’t budge though, he continued his tongues work no matter how sensitive you were, only seeming to get more eager when you pulled his hair, letting out groans and whines.

You had barely noticed your boyfriend moving from his spot behind you, until you saw him, now only wearing his boxers, standing behind Haechan at the end of the bed. He took a hold of the man’s hair, pulling him away from your aching heat, to which Haechan let out a whine of disapproval, looking at Hyuck with an angry pout.

“Greedy, huh?” Donghyuck smirked at him, pushing him to the side of the bed. “Well I’m getting pretty desperate as well,” he said, crawling on top of your form. Your eyes were in the back of your head as you took deep breaths, still recovering from the intense orgasm. They both got fully undressed, throwing all of their clothes on the floor. Haechan almost rushed to kiss you, but someone stopped him from doing it.

“What now!?” Haechan whined at your boyfriend, who once again, chose to pull his hair. “Haven’t you had enough of her already?” Hyuck asked, keeping his hand fisted in his hair. “I’ll allow you to do what I just did. You’re going to have to watch me pleasure her, while you sit there, not being able to do anything about it,” he smiled. You didn’t even recognize this side of Hyuck, but you guessed having another him here brought out his competitive side.

Surprisingly enough, Haechan just nodded, and got behind you, imitating the position your boyfriend had before. “What happened to you being so tough?” you teased him as he got settled behind you. He smirked at your comment, leaning in to talk right into your ear. “I can be a good boy too,” he said. “Can’t I, mommy?”

You twitched at the nickname he already used once earlier today. It wasn’t something you would ever get off on normally, but hearing Haechan say it was something completely new. It was so loaded with yearning, so teasing, and really reminded you of the control he seemed to have over you.

You looked at Donghyuck who carefully spread your legs and put them over his shoulders. You gasped when you felt his length push against you, slowly teasing against your entrance that still felt sensitive after Haechan’s fingers.

You twitched when Haechan’s mouth started kissing the shell of your ear, small sounds leaving his lips and making you squirm in his hold. It was apparent to you how desperate he was for your attention, both when dominant and submissive. “That feels good? hm?” he said into your ear before letting his lips travel lower down your neck. His mouth was so different from Donghyuck’s, but still so addicting.

Donghyuck quickly grabbed your hands and locked eyes with you. You gave him a small nod before he finally pushed himself inside of you, making your eyes roll back at the feeling.

Hyuck let out a gasp when he fully entered you, and you could feel Haechan shift behind you as he let out a small whimper. You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his sudden change in behavior - all it took was a hand in his hair for him to become like this.

“You feel so good,” Donghyuck said, letting you get used to the feeling of his girth inside of you. You inhaled sharply as he started moving, but your attention was soon turned elsewhere, when Haechan started moving your hand to the side. You heard him moan loudly when he wrapped your hand around his cock, using his own to guide it up and down.

“You really can’t help yourself can you?” Donghyuck said, looking into Haechan’s eyes. “You’re right, I can’t.”

He had no shame about it, bucking into your hand, letting out airy breaths and moans. You noticed his rhythm changing with Donghyuck’s, as if he tried to match it. “You wish you could be inside her too, don’t you?” Hyuck said between groans. You gasped when Hyuck’s fingers found your clit, making slow circles with his fingers.

You felt Haechan’s other hand move towards your nipples. “Can I suck?” he asked shamelessly, still fucking into your hand. You nodded, and he immediately laid you down on the mattress and started licking and sucking your nipple. Your eyes met Hyuck’s, and you could tell he was about to burst deep inside of you from the look in his eye alone.

“You’re really going to cum inside of her without even making her cum too?” Haechan asked, pausing his mouth’s movements. “Oh don’t worry,” Hyuck said, quickening his movements. “I have other plans for that.”

Donghyuck became loud as he finally came deep inside of you, making you arch your back at the full feeling. He kept thrusting a few more times, fucking it deeper into you before pulling out.

“Make him cum too baby,” he ordered in your ear, and you finally let your hand work on its own on Haechan, which immediately made him putty in your hands, throwing his head back and thrusting quickly. It didn’t take much for him to explode in your hands, and as you expected, he was much louder than Donghyuck, high-pitched moans filling the room as he came all over your stomach.

There was a moment where the three of you just lay there, panting and basking in the afterglow, but it didn’t last very long. ”Baby,” Donghyuck said in your ear, to which you responded with a small hum. ”Why don’t you get on top of Haechan?”

You and Haechan glanced at Donghyuck in sync, but while your expression turned into a smirk, Haechan’s became one of confusion.

You quickly climbed on top of Haechan, eager to follow whatever plan your boyfriend had in mind. ”What, but I already came, I—” Haechan stuttered, looking between you and Hyuck. ”You wanted to fuck her, didn’t you?” Donghyuck asked as you slowly repositioned yourself to lower yourself down on his cock.

”Y-yeah but—” Haechan was interrupted by his own gasp when he felt you against his tip, that was still so sensitive. ”Don’t you want to make her cum?” Donghyuck asked, making Haechan nod after a pause, even though he twitched at the sensation of you against him.

You smiled when you heard the loud whine he let out as you let him enter you, noting that he was still hard, even after just cumming all over himself. The wetness of Hyuck’s cum inside of you coated Haechan, even spilling out on the sides of your hole as you moved on top of him.

”Shit, fuck—” Haechan cursed, grabbing your hips. You saw Hyuck’s expression of pure joy as his doppelgänger whimpered loudly in the mix of pain and pleasure.

”She’s going to keep going until she cums too, no matter how long it takes,” Donghyuck informed lowly into Haechan’s ear, earning an eager nod from him.

You closed your eyes in delight, working your hips on the writhing man beneath you, letting yourself use him for your own pleasure. Even though he shivered and dig his nails into your hips, you could tell he was enjoying it too. Those shaky breaths, the way his cock grew larger again inside of you, and the way his hip’s unmistakably bucked up into you constantly, it was obvious that he was pleased with the situation too.

You felt Donghyuck’s presence behind you, his hands roaming your body gently. ”That’s it baby,” he said into your ear, his voice sounding deep in contrast to Haechan’s noises. When you felt his fingers on your clit again, you felt the warm feeling build inside you at a rapid pace, making you grab Donghyuck’s forearm in an attempt to steady yourself.

You had never heard Hyuck even making nearly as much noise as Haechan was right now - with that said, you hadn’t overstimulated him before either - but the sounds made you reach your second high even faster. Haechan’s eyes rolled back into his head as you picked up the pace, your own moans being drowned out by the man beneath you, who now almost dug his nails into your hips. ”Shit— I’m gonna cum too,” Haechan said as he felt you pulse around him.

You heard Donghyuck let out a small giggle behind you, but you couldn’t focus on that when you finally let go in his arms and let yourself let out a loud moan. Haechan spasmed slightly underneath you, gasping as he spurted deep inside of you. You twitched at the warm feeling of cum inside of you before finally allowing yourself to collapse on top of Haechan.

You slowly let him pull out of you, feeling the mix of Donghyuck and Haechan’s cum starting to ooze out from between your legs.

”You did so well,” Donghyuck praised, rubbing a soothing hand over your warm back. You felt the deep rise and fall of Haechan’s chest from under you, before he gently rolled you over to your back. You let out a small sound of confusion when Harchan started making his way out of the bed. Donghyuck quickly laid down next to you instead, pulling the soft blankets over you.

”Leaving so soon?” you asked as Haechan got dressed. ”I’ve got plans tonight, remember?” he reminded you, running a hand through his messy hair. ”Hope one of me’s enough for you,” he smirked, making you roll your eyes dramatically.

”But wait, wasn’t this the compensation for you having to miss out on your plans?” Donghyuck asked. Haechan looked away with a guilty smile. ”Well…” and that was the last thing he said before finally leaving the two of you in your bedroom, closing the door behind him.

”You think he’s going back to his own world now? just like that?” you asked, cuddling up against your boyfriend’s warm frame. ”Hopefully. I’m done with being this jealous anyway,” he admitted. You raised your eyebrow, looking into his half-opened eyes. ”Really? You? Jealous? Of someone who’s basically a clone of yourself?” you questioned, making him scoff.

”Yeah, me, jealous. He’s still another man who just fucked my girlfriend at the end of the day, right?”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at his words, having never heard him be this pouty about something like this before. ”You’re so cute when you’re like this,” you poked his cheek. He smiled brightly before leaning in to give you a small kiss on the lips.

”I love you, you know that right?” he said, his breath fanning over your face.

”Of course I know that, silly,” you smiled. ”And you know I love you, right? Even though you’re jealous of your own doppelgänger?”

Donghyuck laughed before kissing you again, even harder this time. ”Yes. Of course I know that.”

I hope you enjoyed this story!!💋

feel free to leave me requests if you have a specific scenario/member/prompt in mind!

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pellucid-constellations · 11 months ago

Text

Trial and Error (3)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Very small mention of blood

a/n: I am lovinggg writing this and I can't stop so don't ask me to 🏃‍♀️

Read part one | part two | part four

Main Masterlist ♡

Azriel had been by the apothecary four times since his first visit. That wasn’t an unusual number by any means, but it was alarming that he was supposedly going through his headache tonic so quickly. You would give him a week’s worth and he would return for more within three days.

Melanie had begun to expect him and had taken to examining his wings each time he walked through the door. She would run and stand atop the counter—much to your dismay—and Azriel would unfurl them from his back just a hair so she could get a better look. Her comfortability with him scared you. You’d spoken to your daughter about stranger danger and had emphasized it a million times, but with Azriel, she held no reproach.

Azriel didn’t seem to mind. You had apologized countless times for Melanie’s staring and her invasive questions, but Azriel would only wave you off with a glint in his eye. He always chalked it up to being an uncle, but you’d had an uncle and he was nothing like Azriel.

None of your family was like anyone you’d met in Velaris.

Still, there was a lingering pit in your stomach each time Azriel would ask you a question about yourself or smile at your daughter. It didn’t feel safe to make too many friends, and Azriel was a particularly unsafe friend to have.

The Shadowsinger.

You’d learned of his position within the Night Court’s inner circle after Melanie had asked yet another question about Azriel and his shadows.

“I’m a Shadowsinger,” he had explained, your daughter spinning in circles around him, tugging his shadows along with her. A small smile graced his face as he spoke. “My shadows tell me secrets so I can ensure everything is going okay in Velaris.”

A cold sweat broke out along your skin as he spoke the words, but you only continued to smile and focused on keeping your breath even.

He would be the one to find you out—there was no doubt about it.

But something told you the closeness could be a good thing. Perhaps, if he knew you, he would take pity on you when he found out. Perhaps, if he knew you, he wouldn’t feel the need to dig into your history and ask questions.

At least, that’s what you were hoping for because Azriel didn’t show any sign of staying away from you or Melanie—a truth made even more apparent at Melanie’s open house.

“Melanie does so wonderfully in all her subjects,” her teacher gushed, a clipboard held tightly at her chest. “She especially loved our cooking unit. She loved the burners and heating things up.”

You raised your brows and grinned. “I’m so happy to hear that. She talks about school so often. I’m glad her enthusiasm is reflected in her work.”

An obvious avoidance—an attempt to curtail the subject away from your daughter’s affinity for flames.

Her teacher did not seem put off. “It is! I know she began in the middle of the school year, but she has caught on so quickly. I can tell she has a lot of support at home. Big family?”

Perhaps her teacher wasn’t as oblivious as you had hoped. You fought the twitch in your eye, dreading that this woman would know more about you. Five years of careful isolation and suddenly you were thrust into the public eye.

“No, just the two of us. But my work is quite flexible so she’s never alone. I always have time to help her with school.”

“That’s so great to hear. I have to ask, just for the sake of my student, her father—”

“Hello, Ms. Fern.”

Azriel’s voice startled you out of the panic rising in your chest. You turned to find him rooted in his spot behind you, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze flicked down to you for a brief moment before settling back on the teacher.

“Azriel!” Ms. Fern delighted. “I didn’t expect you today. I saw the High Lord and Lady earlier so I assumed it would just be the parents.”

Azriel hummed. “I wanted to come by and see Nyx’s art. You mentioned he painted the family.”

“You didn’t need to do that! I know you’re so busy. What a wonderful—“

Azriel slowly edged in front of you, hiding you from Ms. Fern’s watchful eye. You felt a slight push against your hip and held in a laugh as Azriel reached behind him and ushered you off without ever looking away from the teacher. You quickly scampered away and made yourself busy examining the art around the room. Upon closer inspection, Nyx had painted a troll—not his family.

It took about 10 minutes of lingering before Azriel joined you, his shadows giving him away. They slinked around your wrists and traveled up to caress your neck.

“Apologies for their familiarity,” Azriel said in place of a greeting. “They seem to have grown comfortable with you.”

“And Melanie,” you added. You rounded a table and meandered out to the hall. Azriel followed. “They love to chase her around the apothecary. Sometimes I wonder if you keep coming by because they’re making you.”

Azriel bit back a smile but it still formed into a bashful expression. “Perhaps that’s why.”

In the hall, you found yourself alone with Azriel—utterly and completely alone. Melanie was with one of your neighbors as the teacher made it clear no students were allowed at the open house, and no one else occupied the space. You leaned your back against the wall and looked up at Azriel, a shyness overtaking you.

You were never really alone with him—Melanie was always right around the corner.

“That was some maneuver earlier,” you commented, fidgeting with your fingers at your waist.

“She was prying,” Azriel replied. You watched the way he carefully trailed his gaze down to your fingers. “I certainly wasn’t going to let her know more about you than I do. Not when I’ve put in far more effort.”

“I thought your shadows were the reason you came,” you teased.

“Right, my shadows.”

You pressed your mouth into a line, feeling small under Azriel’s never-ending gaze. His eyes never left yours as silence blanketed the hall. It was as if he saw through you, understood you in a way that didn’t make sense.

Maybe you could tell him.

No, that was ridiculous.

Was it?

“Where’s Mel?” Azriel asked, startling you out of your internal strife.

The words didn’t comprehend, the jumbled mess of your mind intensifying as the Shadowsinger knocked his head to the side and asked you questions.

“What?”

“Melanie,” he clarified, brows bunching. “I was going to offer to watch her for this but I didn’t want to impose. I know I’m still mostly a stranger, but I don’t know if you have family in the area and I just…”

He trailed off. You never mentioned any family because that was one of the topics you strayed from each time it was broached. Family, your origins, Melanie’s father; he never brought any of it up directly, but he’d hint at it. And you always changed the subject.

“I—I don’t,” you revealed. You broke his gaze and stared down at your fingers, picking at the skin around your nails. “Have family here, I mean. But I have neighbors that Melanie likes. They’re watching her.”

“Do you trust them?” Azriel asked, an edge to his tone.

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t leave her with anyone I didn’t.”

“Good,” he grunted out.

“And I would never ask you to watch Mel. That—I know you’re probably busy and she's kind of a handful..”

Azriel started speaking before the last word left your mouth. “She’s not. And I would never be too busy for that.”

Another silence fell. You picked harder at your nails.

“Azriel, I—“

“I want you to feel safe with me. To trust me.”

His admittance shocked you into silence. You weren’t actually sure what you were going to say to him, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Everything you had ever thought exited your brain.

You opened your mouth to speak but no sound escaped.

“I mean—I just mean that I want to be a person you can trust Melanie with. That you can trust to… to share more with. I don’t know what you’ve been though, or how you ended up here in Velaris, but I want to be something safe for you.”

It felt as if something was pressing against your chest. When Melanie was around, he never looked at you with such intensity—he never said these things with so much devotion to back his words.

A sharp, hot feeling pricked your fingers. Azriel’s hand immediately covered both of your own, his warm touch pulling your fingers away from each other. You’d drawn blood—a terrible nervous habit.

With all of the shock you missed the fact that this was the first time Azriel had touched you with such intentionality.

“It’s like you’re living in survival mode—you and Melanie. I want you both to feel like there’s someone looking out for you.”

“Why?” you whispered, the word still sounding entirely too loud. “Why us? Why me?”

Azriel hadn’t removed his hands from yours. He offered a small squeeze to your fingers. “Why not you?”

Something broke in you. Something pulled.

You wanted nothing more than to open your mouth and let everything out. You wanted to trust him—to be able to trust anyone—but there was so much danger to that.

You could be forced back home. You could be forced to marry that man. You could lose Melanie.

But Azriel was looking at you as if he’d place his life before any of those possibilities. His gaze was beseeching, almost desperate, and something was urging you to trust him. Something intrinsic. Something that felt right.

Your lips parted.

“Rhys, I told you, Azriel isn’t here.”

“I saw him leave just after us, darling. He came.”

“He came to Nyx’s open house? What could he possibly have to gain?”

The conversation down the hall startled you. You yanked your hands from Azriel’s grip and whipped your head to the side in anticipation.

Rhys, Azriel, Nyx; you knew who was about to enter the hall, and reality came crashing down on you as soon as you made the connection.

“I have to go,” you rushed out, eyes widening. “I—Thank you, Azriel, but this isn’t—this isn’t safe for Melanie. Not… all of this. I have to—”

You left, and Azriel stayed.

You heard your name as you went, heard it echo down the hall, but you still left.

And Azriel still stayed.

part four

#azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction

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mercurial-chuckles · 4 months ago

Note

is smutober still open? if yes can i ask for stucky x f!reader + 17. "seeing the love marks they left on their partner later and getting turned on all over again remember how it got there in the first place"? i thought maybe steve or bucky seeing the marks the other left on reader? or even better, steve or buck seeing the marks reader left on them. anyway, up to you, i love all of your stucky works, you make their relationship feel so real and i love how you don't focus solely on the boys with reader but on bucky and steve and their love for each other as well.

Wanton Affairs

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader x Bucky Barnes | Stucky x F!Reader Warnings: Overloaded Fluff Galore | Domestic Supersoldiers | Poly relation | Language | THE SMUT galore | Threesome | Fingering | Littleshit supersoldiers on the loose | Irresistible Bucky | One torn bra | Supersoldier Sandwich | Soft!dom Steve | Soft!dom Bucky | ~6k of fluffy n filthy goodness | I've broken the fic into three parts with breaks if you wish to stop and continue later | Unedited. If you find any errors (you will), please kindly ignore them for the moment. I typed as I went. I'm too disoriented to edit, but I will as soon as I can | Lemme know if I'm missing anything. A/N: My first threesome. I mean, first time writing a threesome. I'm already whimpering in dread. So, be gentle with me. Treat me tenderly, and some validation would really ease me. Thank you for sending in the ask for SMUT-BER FEST. My apologies for how--embarrassingly--long it's taken to get to your ask. I hope you enjoy reading it, my sweet anon! And thank you for your kind words. This is also my submission for Stucky Bingo | Prompt: Napping | @stuckybingo Most importantly, I've added a small dialogue prompt inspired by Trick or Treat wheel of potential doom. @yenzys-lucky-charm I'm sorry this thought has been marinating in my head for so long, love. I'm way past the due date, and this isn't technically my submission. Since you mentioned how excited you were about this prompt, and now that I've FINALLY gotten inspired, I wanted to tag you. Please feel free to ignore it if any elements of this fic aren't your forte ✨ Hope I did it justice 🩷 Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner and Divider made by me. Picture credits to internet! Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

Indulge Away!

Bucky gets what he wants, even if it means seducing fighting an annoyed Steve Rogers

Bucky, as per Steve's entirely unqualified yet riveting diagnosis, was a little shit with a severe case of cuteness aggression.

Why, you ask?

Well, it was 2 p.m., and Bucky had just returned home from the compound. And when he walked in and saw you peacefully napping, he absolutely couldn't resist his joy.

Despite Steve's firm warning that you needed rest after pulling an all-nighter, Bucky just couldn't help himself. He'd missed you terribly all day--too many hours apart.

So, like the true, needy mess that he was, he decided to be obnoxiously loud, hoping you'd stir awake, give him a warm smile that would relax him in no seconds, and let him curl up next to you.

Those were the hopes of the brunette man.

But his other love--the too-practical, too-Captainy--was already dousing his plans in cold water.

It wasn't that Bucky didn't understand the importance of your sleep--he did. He knew you'd been putting in extra hours, working on the analysis of some foil, and you hardly slept the last few days and that you didn't sleep at all last night.

Stupid Project!

But you, in all your serene, angelic glory, just looked so irresistible lying there.

Not to be too dramatic but he was desperate and downright itching for you to hold him.

Last night had been miserable. He'd tossed and turned all night, and with Steve holed up at the compound, there was no one to hold him while he slept. Which, of course, meant sleep was out of the question. Steve had tried convincing him to come over, mumbling something about hologram testing and training updates--like that was supposed to be enticing.

A bunch of lies, if you asked Bucky.

Steve was a really needy puppy. The man could hardly stand being away from you for too long without either of them keeping watch. And sure, the offer had been tempting, but Bucky had backed off, figuring he'd crash on the couch with some trash TV instead. The last thing he wanted was to deal with Tony along with his sizable ego and the others when he was in a mood. Not that he disliked any of them--he just wasn't in the headspace for socializing. So, he let Steve play the responsible Captain at the Compound while you worked and he decided to stay back and suffer in peace.

In the early hours that morning, he went to his scheduled training session, running on barely any sleep. You had texted saying you'd be home in the evening, but when he saw you both back earlier than expected, he just couldn't resist, could he?

Thus, he proceeded with his noisy campaign to wake you up, much to Steve's horror.

"Bucky," Steve hissed from across the room as Bucky slammed the bathroom door.

"Stop that," he warned, half-amused by the exaggeratedly loud noises Bucky had been making since the moment he arrived home. Steve's enhanced hearing only made it worse, amplifying the noise tenfold. But Bucky had the same enhanced hearing, and Steve knew how stealthy his lover could be. That meant Bucky was intentionally making a racket to wake you up--and that annoyed Steve.

"Stop what?" Bucky huffed, raising an eyebrow as he marched toward Steve, intentionally stomping every step.

Though it had plenty of closet space, the walk-in closet attached to the bedroom was far too small for the two of them. Steve had dimmed the lights to avoid disturbing you and even drew the curtains in the bedroom to block out the intense afternoon light pouring through the windows.

"Shh... she's sleeping," Steve shushed, flinging a shirt he was folding toward Bucky in an attempt to get him to stop. But Bucky caught it mid-air, tossed it back into the laundry bin with a grin, and, without missing a beat, yanked Steve toward him by the collar of his undershirt.

Bucky cradled Steve's jaw with an exaggerated air of seriousness, murmuring lowly, "Ya know, I just saw a picture of a grumpy cat online that looked exactly like you."

Bucky's grin widened.

Steve's frown deepened, and the playful glint in Bucky's eyes only intensified.

Rolling his eyes, Steve swatted Bucky's hands away from his cheeks and snorted in amusement. "You sure it wasn't you?" he deadpanned, picking up clothes one by one and sorting them into fold piles and hangers.

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled Steve by the neck, his lips nearly grazing Steve's.

Poor Stevie couldn't resist now, could he? Because Bucky looked irresistibly handsome, and he was a weak man when it came to Bucky or you.

Steve felt his resolve slip, and before he knew it, his lips were gravitating toward Bucky's as Bucky leaned in for a soft, teasing kiss. A low moan escaped Steve, and before he could deepen the kiss, Bucky pulled away, leaving Steve with nothing but a rush of warmth and utter annoyance.

Steve groaned, rubbing his face. "You're such a jerk," he muttered, irritated by the half-assed kiss and desperate for more.

Bucky's grin widened wickedly. "What? Do you need me, punk? All you gotta do is ask," he teased, "Nicely," he added, his voice thick with amusement, before leaning in again--this time intently, pushing Steve against the tiny space of empty wall beside the door. Their lips collided, groaning at the taste, deepening the kiss as they moved closer, instinctively pulling each other tighter. The arousing kiss continued, building and building until…

The unmistakable tear was heard.

Both of them exchanged a look.

"Oh, shit!" Bucky laughed, pulling away just enough to look down.

Steve followed Bucky's gaze and froze, his face going pale. There, in Steve's hand, were the torn remains of your favorite bra. It was a cute piece, too, with little dinosaurs and cacti prints. You looked adorable wearing it.

"Son of a bitch, that's her comfy one," Steve muttered in exasperation, turning it in his large hands to see if it was remotely salvageable, but the fabric was in tatters.

"Eh…" Bucky hummed, plucking the fabric from Steve's hands, and inspected the shredded piece with little sympathy, "I hate these traps," he muttered.

"Nope, gotta say goodbye," Bucky sniggered, putting the ripped fabric back into Steve's hands. Steve groaned in defeat.

Bucky patted him on the shoulder with exaggerated pity, and taking advantage of Steve's guilty reminiscence, he slipped out of the closet and into the bedroom, leaving Steve standing there, still processing the carnage.

Bucky plopped himself on the bed with zero resistance from Steve whatsoever. He quickly discarded his joggers, cursing himself for deciding to put them on after the shower. He threw them, aiming for the chair, but Steve caught them mid-air, a frown returning to his face.

Bucky's smile widened at the sound of Steve's angry grunts, whispered under his breath. Ignoring all of Steve's warnings, Bucky turned his focus entirely to you, snuggling comfortably beside you, and wondering how best to announce his arrival.

Steve seemed to read his thoughts because he snapped, nearly shouting, "James, get your ass over here and fold the laundry with me if you're so bored!"

Bucky snorted, rolling his eyes. "I'm not bored, Steven. I'm sleepy," he declared, finger traced gently down your cheek, and you made a soft noise in your sleep.

Steve's patience ebbed away all at once. He cast one last look at your peaceful, slumbering form, Steve had just managed to help you fall asleep, and he wasn't about to let Bucky mess it all up.

With a determined stride, Steve marched over, grabbed Bucky by the waist, and hauled him off the bed without warning. Bucky let out a surprised laugh, but Steve anticipated the noise, quickly pressing his hand to Bucky's mouth to silence him as he began marching him out of the room.

"What the hell?" Bucky grumbled, his brain catching up.

Steve only made it two steps into the living room before Bucky, like a reflex, tackled him to the ground with a booming laugh.

"You're really not listening. Let her sleep," Steve hissed, his voice strained from holding back his irritation and laughter.

"I wasn't doing anything," Bucky guffawed, straddling Steve and pinning him to the floor.

"Cut it out, Buck."

Bucky, now the one in control, held both of Steve's wrists to his chest, completely enjoying the struggle.

"GET UP!" Steve grumbled, pretending to be annoyed, but the amused smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

"Is that all ya got?" Bucky mocked, raising an eyebrow. "For a man who pulled a helicopter…" He tutted in mock disappointment. "Bad, Stevie. You gotta replenish your big boy energy."

Bucky placed a teasing kiss on Steve's jaw, his breath warm against Steve's skin. "I think you need a nap, too," he whispered.

Steve narrowed his eyes, and as the smug grin on Bucky's face fully registered in his mind, "You look quite energized Buck, and you definitely don't need a nap," Steve remarked flippantly.

Bucky's grin faltered, but only for a second. He kept Steve pinned with his metal arm, his face now just inches from Steve's as he leaned in closer. With a soft chuckle, Bucky pushed off Steve, sliding away from him smoothly and practically leaping off the floor and onto the bed in two long strides, knowing fully well that Steve wouldn't repeat the same mistake of hauling him off the bed a second time.

Bucky mentally counted to five, and sure enough, Steve appeared in the doorway, a frown marring his adorably stupid face.

Steve walked in fully intending to get the rest of the laundry done, however, he glanced at the bed, eyes greedily taking in Bucky's overtly happy and awfully comfortable expression snuggling beside you, and Steve sighed, conceding defeat. With a roll of his eyes, he finally walked over to the bed and carefully settled on the other side.

"You're folding the laundry later," Steve mouthed to Bucky, his voice just above a whisper. He then carefully slid his right arm around your waist, almost instinctively, and settled it over Bucky's side of the bed.

Bucky chuckled proudly, satisfied with himself. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before slowly slipping your hand from beneath your pillow, gently resting it on his own. Your familiar scent filled the space between them, soothing Bucky like the pleasant sound of rain.

Steve peeked at Bucky, a small, affectionate smile tugging at his lips as he felt your feet worm their way between his legs. Bucky's right arm found Steve's on top of your pillow, and without a second's delay, Steve interlaced his fingers with Bucky's, letting out a quiet hum of satisfaction.

"Such a punk," Steve murmured, squeezing Bucky's hand affectionately.

Bucky snorted. His eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the soothing calmness of both you and Steve.

"And no funny business," Steve added softly, his voice almost teasing as he kissed the top of your head, his breath warm on your skin. Bucky smiled to himself, too content to bite back with a reply.

The absolute nerve of Steve to question Bucky's purer, entirely innocent intentions of cuddling and falling asleep peacefully.

****

Steve is sometimes ALWAYS right

Still groggy and barely awake, you blinked open your eyes--only to be met with two bright blue ones and a wide grin. It scared the shit out of you, and you let out an ungraceful squeak.

"Fuck you, Bucky," you mumbled in surprise, but your cry was quickly muffled by his cold metal palm as he hushed you.

You blinked a few more times, adjusting to your surroundings, finally registering the cozy, familiar position you were wrapped in. The warmth of Steve behind you, his face pressed into your shoulder blade, his nose tickling your skin as the unmistakable sound of his snoring reverberated through your back.

"Stevie's snoring? Aww." You cooed, a sleepy, contented pout pulling at your lips. Bucky grinned beside you, nodding.

It was rare for either of them to snore--what with the serum taking most of the brunt of their bodies--but once in a while, exhaustion got the better of them.

"I recorded it, too," Bucky told you proudly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips.

You sighed happily, licking your lips--his kiss felt like the sun's warmth on a cold winter day.

"Of course you did," you chuckled, a yawn slipping out before you could stop it.

Just as expected, Bucky tried to slip his fingers into your mouth mid-yawn, but you swatted his hand away before he could pull his usual antics. He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that charming, divinely gorgeous way that always made your heart flutter.

"What's the time?" you murmured, tugging at his t-shirt. Bucky slid closer, effortlessly molding against you as you hooked a leg over his hip, his thigh slotting between yours. His warmth, his scent--you savored every bit of him.

God, you'd missed him. Missed them.

"4:15," he whispered, voice low and soothing. He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his metal fingers brushing your cheek, tucking away a few stray strands. At some point, your braid must have loosened in your sleep.

"How was training?" you asked, voice drowsy. Bucky grunted in response, lips trailing lazy kisses along your skin. You hummed, fingers idly playing with the fabric of his t-shirt, knowing exactly what that grunt meant. Training without Steve usually had him in a mood.

Bucky shifted just an inch away, his eyes locked on yours. And you smiled at him, watching his eyes twinkle with love. Unable to resist, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his chin. A comfortable silence settled. Bucky and you got lost in each other's touches, eyes blinking slowly.

"You really haven't been sleeping much, have you?" Bucky murmured, his brows twitching into a concerned frown.

You reached up, smoothing your fingers over the crease between them, watching as the tension melted from his face. He sighed under your touch, and you only shrugged slightly, a small pout tugging at your lips.

"I guess," you whispered, your fingers drifting down to gently massage his jaw. Bucky let out a low, satisfied hum, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

It was during these rare silences--filled with unspoken love you pondered how far you had come. You were so grateful. So unbelievably proud of the choices you had all made, of the life you had built together.

Bucky's expression softened even more as he grumbled, "I'm sorry." His lower lip jutted out just enough to make you want to suckle on it--so you did.

He let out a pleased hum, pressing a soft peck to your lips, his warm breath tickling your senses as he continued, "For trying to wake you up while you were sleeping. I'm such a jerk sometimes."

You let out a quiet laugh but quickly stilled when you felt Steve shift behind you, his forehead pressing snugly against the column of your neck as he instinctively pulled you closer. You waited, holding your breath to see if he would wake. When he didn't, you relaxed and turned your attention back to Bucky, your fingers trailing along his cheek, savoring the contrast between his soft skin and the roughness of his stubble.

"You think I even noticed? I was out like a light," you teased, grinning wide. "Besides, nothing to be sorry about… I know you're my Sugarpuss."

Bucky's eyes widened in mock offense as he dramatically gestured toward Steve. "He's Sugarpuss."

"No, he's not. He's the wise and responsible one of us. He keeps us in line. Besides, he'd only ever call you Sugarpuss," you teased, winking.

Bucky scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Though… you're more of a sourpuss most of the time," you added with a playful smirk.

Bucky let out a dramatic grunt before suddenly pulling you closer. Steve shifted behind you, now sprawled out on his stomach.

"I'd beat his ass if he ever called me that," Bucky muttered, tossing a leg over you and tugging you flush against him.

"You'd beat my ass too?" you teased, grinning as you pressed soft butterfly kisses along his neck.

Bucky moaned in satisfaction, the deep rumble of his throat vibrating against your lips.

"You're my pretty girl. You can call me any shitty name you want," he murmured, eyes crinkling with affection.

Before you could fawn over that, another snore rumbled from Steve, and Bucky turned his head to glance at him.

Shaking his head in mock disbelief, he huffed, "And he said he didn't need a nap."

"Yeah?" you asked, unable to resist the giggle bubbling up.

"Yeah. Hell-bent on me not lurking around you," Bucky said, shaking his head.

You laughed, snuggling deeper into his warmth.

"Guess what? He came by the lab... Captain mode," you whispered, your fingers threading through Bucky's hair, tugging just the way he liked. He let out a happy sigh, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

"Really?" Bucky rasped, his voice thick with interest. His hand found the band of your panties, and he snapped them. You squirmed, feeling the warmth bubbling.

"Yeah! He announced that there was a meeting and that I was needed," you continued, chuckling. "Carried me home and put me to sleep."

Bucky hummed his palm kneading slow, lazy circles into your hip. His touch was heavy, possessive. His metal arm slipped underneath your shirt.

"Bucky…" you warned, shaking your head slightly.

But Bucky grinned, squeezing and massaging your tit, flicking your nipple. You squirmed, breath hitching at the sensation.

His smirk was downright sinful. "Put you to sleep, huh?"

Bucky seemed to take pity because he moved his hand away, but only for his fingers now trailing along your collarbone, then down the length of your neck. The cool Vibranium warmed instantly against your skin as he pushed your--Steve's--t-shirt off your shoulder.

"He left marks, didn't he?" you asked, tilting your head slightly, your face reddening up at the memory of Steve taking you apart after you denied that you were not sleepy.

Bucky huffed in mock offense, his fingers ghosting over the faint hickeys. "And he tells me, 'No funny business, Buck.'" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Wise, my ass. I'm the wiser one." The words were more for himself than for you, his lips trailing along the column of your neck.

The way your body responded to him was crazy.

"And I feel absolutely left out," Bucky murmured against your mouth, the warmth of his breath making you shiver.

The need to taste him, to pull him closer, was overwhelming.

"We can't have that, Buck," you whispered.

And then, as if reading each other's minds, you both moved at once. The kiss was passionately satiating yet a consuming hunger overwhelmed you. His tongue trailed inside your mouth, lapping at you hungrily, sucking on your bottom lip.

"You're a goddess, you know that?" he rasped, moaning at the taste, revving you up just right. "Fuck, I missed you so much," Bucky growled lowly. Your dismissive protests of his praise were captured by his mouth, kissing you more while he trailed his metal fingers down your stomach, slipping them into your panties.

Beautiful dilated blues gazed at you, and you arched into him, pulling at the short strands of his hair at the back when he cupped your heat and squeezed it. The moan that escaped you was hungrily captured again, hushing you by kissing.

And Steve shifted behind you, making you still in realization.

"Steve is sleeping," you murmured half-heartedly, feeling Steve shift slightly behind you, but Bucky chuckled, the absolute menace that he was, his fingers prodded at your slick entrance, "Gotta be real quiet then, hmm?" he groaned.

"Buck…" You started, only to be shut off by one finger inching inside, and your breath hitched.

"These are not helping," he groaned, caressing and nipping at the marks Steve left on you earlier.

You gripped onto his back, fingers digging into his skin as retribution for the pleasure he was providing you. Bucky nipped at the skin right under your ear, making you squirm. He pushed his second finger inside, setting a languid pace, and let out a rather low growl.

You moaned into his ear, licking the skin on the side of his neck, nipping. God, he smelled like temptation, and you felt weak.

You cried in delight as you felt his fingers hit the spot he was privy to.

You felt parched, and you needed him.

"I know, I know. Good fucking girl," he rumbled, shifting onto his back and pulling you effortlessly on top of him. You stumbled against his chest, breathless, limbs tangled.

You froze for a second, glancing at Steve, but he was still fast asleep, his steady breathing undisturbed.

When you looked back at Bucky, he was grinning up at you, dazed and smug, his eyes glinting wickedly.

You had a good retort ready, but he curled his fingers, turning the words into a moan, and his other hand weaved into your hair, bringing you close to his mouth and sucking your lower lip.

"Quiet, pretty girl. Don't wanna disturb him. Do we?" You bit onto his jaw, holding back the moans that were trying to escape.

Bucky adjusted you in his arms, pressing you against his strong chest, his fingers fucking your wet and welcoming heat. "Hmm. Fuck, you smell divine," he grunted.

Your teeth grazed his skin, his scent hit you tenfold, and the pleasure made you heady.

"Beautiful," Bucky mumbled, his fingers curled expertly inside, and you teetered on the edge of pleasure, breath caught.

"And mine. Ours," Bucky added, moaning against the corner of your mouth, his hips thrusting up against your thigh. The tickling sensation of his hardness made you squirm, and Bucky's languid thrusts turned faster.

"Bucky," You moaned, and he captured your mouth in a sloppy kiss.

"Yeah? Gonna cum, aren't you? Fuck. My perfect girl," he encouraged, and you nodded, mouth falling open, speechless, while your pussy gripped onto his fingers. The sensation hit you fast, clutching you into the depths of pleasure.

Bucky held you tightly, kissing your jaw as you rode your orgasm. He pulled his fingers out slowly, and you whimpered when he brought them to his mouth and sucked them clean. His eyes shut for a moment. "Bucky," you breathed. The sight always mortified and did things to you.

"I wanna eat you," he muttered hoarsely, his voice humming through his chest, making your heart flutter.

"But I know you can't keep quiet if I get my mouth on you," he chuckled condescendingly, pushing his boxers down, and your eyes widened, looking at him pointedly.

You shook your head at him, this time more vehemently, but Bucky's smug grin only widened as he adjusted you properly, and your hands held onto him for stability. He nudged you with a wink, giving himself a stroke and slotting his tip at your entrance. Your hesitation vanished with how good it felt.

You both could be quiet, right?

Your breath hitched as he slowly rocked from underneath, and you collapsed onto his broad chest.

"Are you close already?" He cooed, completely sheathed inside you. Bucky gritted his teeth when he felt you clench him.

Your breath caught as your fingers gripped at his t-shirt, and your mouth muffled with bites.

Bucky was making you speechless, wild, and a moaning mess.

A loud guttural groan escaped him, and you hushed him pointedly.

"Fuck, I can't help it," He remarked.

****

When Captain Rogers wakes up. Teehee!

Feeling the knot in your stomach tighten, you nipped at his collarbone. Bucky's palm flexed on your hip, pulling you more into him, and the slight pain it caused made you clench onto him tightly while pleasure rippled through your body.

Bucky hissed, muttering how perfectly you milked him. When his tip kissed your cervix, you moaned.

"Mmm…feels like heaven. Doesn't it?" Bucky hissed, pushing your t-shirt to the side harshly and biting your shoulder. Your nails dug into his biceps, metal and flesh alike, tightly. The contrast urged you on more.

Your t-shirt--Steve's t-shirt--rucked up high with all the thrusting, and you pushed Bucky's t-shirt just a bit up to feel his skin against yours--taut, muscular, soft, scarred, and all yours. "You're so pretty, Buck," You sighed happily, his hardness feeling so full and fulfilling, and you felt the familiar rush as you careened into pleasure.

A sleepy snort broke the moment, followed by a large, steady hand wrapping around your waist, halting your movement. The pleasure that had been building crashed just as fast, leaving you teetering on the edge. You almost wailed in frustration.

You and Bucky turned at the same time, cheek-to-cheek, to face the culprit.

Steve was awake--barely. Propped up on one elbow, his face was adorably scrunched, hair sleep-mussed, eyes narrowed at the two of you with faux disapproval. He let out a deep, raspy chuckle, the sound rolling through your body teasingly, making you squirm against Bucky.

You unknowingly clenched him just a bit, and Bucky groaned, rocking into you.

Bucky's stubble tickled your cheek as he spoke, his chuckle vibrating through his chest.

"Hands off, Steve. We're in the middle of something," Bucky growled, emphasizing his point with a deep thrust. No one could stop the moan coming from you. The pleasure building again.

When Steve tapped your cheek, you opened your eyes to see his amused grin. In the next instant, Steve straddled Bucky, towering over you from behind. His hand tightened around your waist before you were haphazardly lifted off Bucky.

Both you and Bucky hissed at the sudden loss of contact.

You expected Steve to throw you onto the bed, but no. Your eyes widened as you looked at Bucky, who looked back with an expression of both amusement and irritation.

Steve smacked your butt, and you squealed, trying hard to steady yourself on Bucky.

Steve didn't give you time. He pulled you up against his warm chest, discarding your--his--t-shirt and throwing away his to the side. Bucky's gaze shifted to your tits, and he grinned, his both hands coming up to squeeze them.

"Can't help yourself, Buck. Can you?" Steve taunted. Bucky cursed, throwing empty threats at Steve. Steve angled your hips, rubbing his tip against your slick.

Oh, Fuck! Your eyes widened.

You collapsed on Bucky at the sensation, and he steadied you.

"STEVE…Holy…" You gasped as Steve entered you slowly from behind without much resistance, simultaneously bending you onto Bucky.

Bucky was still hard, and he twitched against your tummy, hot and wet.

"Gotta teach him a lesson," Steve said, and honestly, you didn't care. You just want them to stop edging you.

Bucky bared his teeth in sweet agony as he moved to touch himself, but Steve was faster, and he swatted Bucky's hand away.

"Nuh-uh, you're gonna watch while I make our pretty girl feel good," Steve chuckled darkly, his broad frame engulfing you as he nuzzled your neck, placing soft kisses on your shoulder.

"Steve," Bucky gritted in annoyance, trying to squirm away.

"Can't take one order," Steve mocked, riling Bucky up, his hand splayed on the inside of your right thigh and spread you some more, firmly adjusting you on Bucky's torso.

"Fuckkkkk," You cried.

"You're not my boss," Bucky growled challengingly. You could feel him squirm under you both.

"Is that so?" Steve hummed from over your shoulder, too pleased with himself. His hands loosened the grip around you and moved to Bucky's jaw while Steve's other hand held your waist, hoisting you up just a bit. You held onto his forearm with both hands as you felt your knees wobble.

"You're such a punk," Bucky chuckled, his eyes blown in hazy lust. And with a single tap against his lips, Bucky sucked onto his thumb. The sight was hot and was making you delirious with need. You clenched around Steve, and a breathy gasp turned into a moan when Steve pulled out and thrust into you.

Your nails dug into Steve's arm harshly as the pleasure wrecked you.

Bucky pulled you and Steve on top of him and Steve eased you gently onto Bucky and pinned his hands beside him. The angled thrust had you almost coming. Almost.

Their weight and warmth added to your pleasure. Steve adjusted your hips as he pounded you from behind.

Steve nudged against your neck, propping against your shoulder as he leaned toward Bucky.

"I said no funny business. Didn't I?" Steve reminded Bucky, their banter holding nothing back as Steve pounded into you without breaking pace while Bucky kissed your parted mouth.

Bucky winked. "You have no right demanding shit from me, punk." he traced the slightly dark marks on the expanse of your chest, ones that Steve took his time leaving earlier.

Steve's breathless laugh tickled your throat as he pulled Bucky for a kiss, effectively squishing you between them. The angle only made you scream as pleasure shot through you.

"Easy there," Bucky warned Steve.

"FUCKK…" Steve lifted you off Bucky slightly, his one arm wrapping around you carefully, firmly, resting both of your weights on his knees, straddling Bucky.

"Don't worry, Sweetheart. I aim to please. You know that," Steve said to Bucky while adjusting Bucky's cock directly where you were connected, rubbing it gently on your clit, and you gasped, squirming away from his grip. The sensation was driving you nuts.

All three of you moaned in sync. A litany of curses spewed.

You threw your head onto Steve's shoulder, both hands gripping his forearm as he rocked into you.

"Eyes on me," Bucky demanded, squeezing your tit and pinching your nipple. It felt like a Herculean task to open your eyes, but you did, meeting his darkened blues. He parted his lips, tongue peeking out as he forced you closer. Steve loosened his grip, maneuvering you closer to Bucky.

"You smell so fucking good," Bucky grunted, taking you in a searing kiss.

"Look at you. So needy. Fuck, I could do this all day," Steve moaned, increasing his pace. Despite the pleasure coursing through, both you and Bucky rolled your eyes at him in sync, and a few breathy chuckles escaped you.

"Shut up," Steve exclaimed, chuckling. Steve unwound one of his forearms and trailed it up Bucky's chest, carding through Bucky's short locks as he tugged them.

"OH FUCKKK…" Bucky moaned lewdly, baring his teeth and biting his lower lip.

"Can't take one order now, can you?" Steve hissed as his pace faltered, he was close, fucking sporadically.

Bucky intertwined his fingers with yours with a squeeze that spoke of love amidst the filthy, noisy mess you all were making. Steve placed an open-mouthed kiss on your neck, nipping as his fingers from Bucky's hair moved to place his large palm on his chest, right above Bucky's heart.

Bucky's erection rubbed against you and Steve hard and fast, right where you were joined.

"You're close, aren't you, Buck," Steve grunted as he rolled his hips, pressing you sensually against Bucky.

The manly groans, their scent, and their warmth, added to the sweet sensations…Holy Shitz! You were coming for the second time that day around Steve.

"I love you both. FUCK!" Steve moaned, thrusting a couple more times before you felt the hot white ropes filling you up, and you came tumbling down as white-hot pleasure throbbed your senses as you milked him, clutching onto both of them so tightly that it would have left their bones broken were they not supersoldiers.

"Oh shit!" Bucky groaned as he rocked upwards, cumming all over your front and his.

Your body flailed as you collapsed into Bucky, and so did Steve. Steve's taut, sweaty, muscular chest weighed you down onto Bucky, and his partial weight felt heavenly on you.

"I love you," You breathed, eyes closed as you nuzzled into Bucky's soft t-shirt, the stars still exploding behind your lids.

You felt euphoric!

The three of you laid there for a while.

You didn't--couldn't--open your eyes when you were readjusted, now lying on Steve.

Steve's laughter rumbled against your back as you felt Bucky move over you.

"Open 'em, sweet girl," Bucky cooed against your mouth, and you did. He grinned widely.

"You got one more in you, don't you, doll?" Bucky asked. His cock was hard, tip nudging your slick heat.

You bit your lip, not directly answering, but rocking against his tip. Bucky gave a dazzling smile as he inched inside you.

Oh, you were going to be sore and would need all the rest, but you couldn't deny your man, could you now?

"Good girl," Bucky groaned as he gently adjusted you above Steve.

"I love me some supersoldier sandwich," you managed to utter, your words broken and mostly turning into a moan.

"Oh, we're aware," Steve quirked, placing kisses alongside your neck, spreading your thighs wide, and holding them firmly as Bucky fucked you in missionary on Steve.

"Feels good, Buck? Is my cum warming you up well?" Steve taunted, revving Bucky up a bit more.

Steve moved strands of hair out of your face and brushed Bucky's forehead, and you could feel his hardness poking your hips.

Bucky groaned as he fucked with much more vigor. Dear Heavens! You felt every thrust, and it also made you conscious of your weight pressing into Steve.

A thought, while quite stupid, crept into your fucked out mind unknowingly.

"Hey, hey…too much?" Bucky asked, stalling his movements. You blushed, shaking your head, and tilted behind and looked up at a concerned Steve.

"Are you okay?" You asked him. You saw the look of recognition in his eyes, and his concern etched away.

"I am, sweetheart," Steve sighed, adjusting you more firmly, and you squealed. Bucky tapped your cheek, and you met his gaze reluctantly.

"Buck, love some sense into her, harder," Steve chuckled, placing a kiss on your temple, his hands massing your thighs.

You gasped. "I didn't mean…OH FUCKKKK," You started, but Bucky's thrust cut you off.

"BUCKY," You moaned.

"Sorry, pretty girl. Captain's orders," Bucky chuckled, fucking you maddeningly fast.

"Oh, now you follow his orders." You cried and arched on Steve's naked body.

Steve's hand tugged at Bucky's hair. And Bucky moaned, biting onto your chest. Steve turned your knees, helping you wrap them around Bucky's, and you clutched onto Bucky tightly.

Steve's hand crept between you and Bucky and rubbed your overstimulated clit. It really didn't take long before you felt the orgasm consume you.

"I'm…"

"Cum for me." Bucky breathed against your skin, his stubble rough and sensual against your chest as he sucked on your tit.

You were thankful that your home was far off civilization, completely private, because the way you shouted, you bet people would have surely freaked the fuck out.

"Holy Shit!" Bucky's hips stuttered, and soon he was filling you up, moaning loudly in that deep voice that made your pussy flutter.

"I love you," Steve whispered reverently, and you hummed blissfully, unable to form any words in response after those body-shattering orgasms. You fell into a dreamless void almost immediately, ears ringing as your body trembled in the aftermath of pleasure. You had no idea how long you slept.

"Come on, doll, gotta clean you up." You were barely aware of the events that followed, only remembering being carried to the guest bedroom vividly.

"Gotta change the sheets, doll. Sleep here," Steve said as he gently adjusted you on the queen mattress. Steve and Bucky's muffled voices sifted through your foggy mind.

"You're a fucking idiot, Stevie. I love you," you heard Bucky laugh, and you chuckled, mentally agreeing with him, though you weren't entirely sure what they were talking about.

Steve scoffed playfully, muttering something at Bucky that only made him laugh harder. Then, Steve tucked you in with a warm blanket, placing a tender kiss on your cheek.

"Get going, Buck. You promised to finish up with the laundry. I'll make dinner," Steve said.

"I'll help, too," you mumbled into the pillow.

Steve chuckled, peppering your neck with kisses that made you squirm from the sensation. "You're going to sleep and get all the rest. Understood?" he declared.

"Yes, Captain Rogers," you breathed, relaxing as your weight sank into the mattress. Steve's kiss lingered on your cheek long after, and you heard the floorboards creak as he shuffled away. The door groaned softly when he stepped into the living room.

God, one of you seriously needed to oil the door. The croaking was getting creepy.

Moments later, the bed dipped beside you. Bucky's warm fingers slid through your hair, massaging your scalp with slow, gentle strokes.

"Don't make me come in there, Bucky," Steve's voice carried from the living room, laced with warning.

Bucky chuckled against your neck. "He's such a prick sometimes," he groaned, his breath warm against your skin.

"I heard that," Steve's voice was much closer now. You chuckled sleepily.

"Steve tore your favorite bra," Bucky stage-whispered.

"Huh?" you mumbled, confused. You weren't wearing a bra, though. You blinked your eyes open, only to see Bucky being dragged out of the room.

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bakugosbratx · 6 months ago

Text

ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʙʟᴀᴍᴇ ᴍᴇ, ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴍᴇ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴ’ ᴄʀᴀᴢʏ

— Yandere Alpha Katsuki Bakugo x Omega Fem! Reader

Trigger Warning: NSFW 18+. Omegaverse, abuse, corruption, cursing, deprivation, neglect, kidnapping, yandere, non-con, etc.

Words: 3,826

Tags: @peachyquing @milkthistletea @bakugous-trauma @gazelle-des-pres @miriobaby @sickchildren @bakugousbrat @vinny-likes-to-play21 @ssplague @ebiharachan @fransuki @angie-1306 @rainne-cloud @interstellar-inn @nymphoheretic

You were sick of hearing those wicked words from your captor. He could repeat that phrase as much as he wanted to, but no matter how much mental and physical abuse you endure from this man will never change your mindset. This cruel world is disgusting in many ways and one of those ways was something way beyond your control.

You have always wanted to be more than your mother has become. She was nurturing, soft, and a great woman overall, but you witnessed the way the world treated her kind.

“Move it, Omega!” Alpha’s, Gamma’s, Beta’s, and Sigma’s would growl whenever they deemed that she attempted to step out of line. Your mother’s words would soon be diminished anytime she spoke up. Even if it was for something as simple as correcting an error made on her coffee order.

“Shut it, Omega, and take what the barista gives ya!”

So, your mother did not say much at all anymore. Your father was usually busy making money for your family that he was not always around to help protect you two from these moments. Other Alpha’s knew better than to come to your father’s territory. His scent was all over it and his mark was always visible on your mother. Your father has fought off many Alpha’s and Sigma’s who dare challenge him. With stars in your eyes, you watched it all go down each time.

“I’ll be like him someday,” you would mutter to yourself in determination, “I will be the most feared Alpha there was!”

Your parents could not help but chuckle. You were a young pup; your determination was cute. Your small growls only received coos and headpats when you attempted to be tough like your father. Of course, many others feared your father. A powerful alpha like him out and about with his pup was not the time to challenge him.

This only fed your ego more.

When anyone approached you or your father, they would coo at your adorableness. “I am not cute!” You would exclaim in frustration. “I am going to be the most feared Alpha this world has ever seen, you hear me?!”

Bystanders would chuckle as you went along with your journeys. Though, you would be hit with the realization you are just a pup when it came time for your father to hunt for your guys next meal.

“C’mon, dad. Please let me go? Please?” You would plead as your father put on his gear. “No.” He would sternly reply, not providing any room for yes, no’s, or maybe’s. You did not even have a chance to protest as your father walked out the door, leaving you and your mother alone.

“It’s not fair.” You huffed with folded arms across your chest. “I’m going to be the most feared Alpha one day. I need to know how to hunt and dad isn’t even showing me how!”

“Now, now, dear. In due time. Maybe when you are a bit older you can join your father on his adventures.” Your mother soothed. She secretly hoped you would be an Alpha. She did not want you to face the same discrimination she does on a daily basis.

You never lost hope on becoming a strong Alpha. You trained yourself to become strong. You did all you could to build the muscle you truly desired to match an Alpha’s appearance and attempted to eat just like the Alpha’s did. You read all the magazines and even did your best to get an Alpha scent attached to your clothing.

“She’ll never become a true Alpha.” The kids in the school yard would whisper amongst each other. Some were already showing obvious signs of being an Alpha, Beta, or Omega, but you refused to accept your fate. You would ignore the negative glances and comments. You will be an Alpha.

Yet, that was not going to mask who you truly are.

The time was approaching. You were going to be eighteen soon and that meant you would finally know your status in the world. You could not wait to prove to everyone you will be an even greater Alpha than your father. Your body may struggle to build muscle and you could never eat like your father could, but you would get there. Your eighteenth birthday would prove that.

Awaking to the day you have waited so long for, you stretch in your nest you have built. Of course, you did not want to since that was such an Omega thing to do, but your mother insisted. So, not to disobey your mom, you did as she asked. It was comfortable and full of soft blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals you have received over the years. You would never admit it, but the stuffed animals made you feel safe.

Sniffing the air, your smile turned into a frown. A scream quickly followed which had your mother rushing into your room. “Darling, are you—“

“I’m just like you!” You sobbed, your scent being nothing like an Alpha. It was soft, sweet, and rosy. This was not how it was supposed to go. “This can’t be! I’m supposed to be a big strong Alpha!”

But this was obviously not the case. You would never be a big, strong Alpha. You were petite compared to them and you never cared for meat though you forced yourself to like it. Everything an Alpha was you were not. That was something you had to learn to accept.

Yet, here you are, Y/N. Chained up in a dark, cold basement all because you thought you could take on an Alpha. If only you could control your temper and alcohol consumption that night then maybe you would not be in this predicament.

“Are you insane?!” Your roommate gasped as she witnessed you put on a sexy outfit for the night on the town. “Y’know your heat is coming soon. Everyone will be able to smell it!”

“And?” You retorted as you spritz your favorite perfume. “You think an Alpha is going to come claim me or something?”

“Y’know how crazy Alpha’s can get, Y/N. They run this world. We are just victims of it.” She muttered, concerned clearly in her tone, but she knew there was no changing your stubborn mind. One of the many things people admired and hated about you. Once you have your mind set on something there is no stopping until your goal is completed.

“If an Alpha even tries to touch me, I’ll fight them.” You shrugged. Your friend could not hide the cackle. “You can’t be serious, Y/N. You could never compete with an Alpha.”

Rolling your eyes, you make sure you have everything you need. “Look, I got it handled. I’ll be home later.” Hugging your roommate goodbye, you leave your shared apartment and head out to the local bar.

The Den.

A bar that had music, a dance area, pool tables, and a lounge area. This was a frequent mingle spot for everyone in their twenties. It had a mixture of everyone and everything. Plus, it was close to your living space, you could just walk and not worry about getting behind the wheel intoxicated.

Strolling up to the bar, you ordered your favorite alcoholic beverage. You usually had a friend or friend group join you out on nights like these, but your roommate was close to being in heat also so she refused to leave the apartment. Meanwhile, you took your chances.

Something about a full moon and your heat on the rise was calling to you. Midnight was looking for trouble and though you were not on the hunt for a mate, you wouldn’t mind enjoying what the night had to bring.

Sipping on your beverage of choice, the music spoke to your body as the rhythm took over. You could not even blame the intoxication from your beverage as your hips swayed to the beat, capturing the attention of a certain Alpha who decided to step in for the night. He was not one for the bar life unless his friends provoked him.

“C’mon, man! It’s been so long since you’ve come out with us.” The red hair, Eijiro Kirishima, pleaded. “Yeah, bro. There’s goin’ to be so many hot omegas just waiting to be bred.” The blonde, Denki Kaminari, practically drooled. Katsuki, the only Alpha of the crew, just growled.

“Yeah, right, like an omega would want to mate with a dumbass like you.” Katsuki shamed the Delta, relaxing more on the sofa. His friends couldn’t help but frown.

“C’mon, man. You said you would go out with us next time. Remember?” Eijiro, the Beta of the group, reminded him. Katsuki was not one to lie or be untrue to his word. That’s one of his best qualities underneath his tough exterior and because of that trait, his hands ended up on your waist and gentle nipping at your neck. You were too intoxicated from even more beverages you consume and being that close to your heat, how could you make the correct decisions?

You should have listened to your roommate. You should have stayed home and prepared your nest yet here you are, lips locked with a strong, masculine Alpha that can smell your heat on the rise.

Katsuki sniffed you, the faint scent of your heat coming intrigued him, sending his Alpha senses into overdrive. He was not planning on finding a mate tonight. In fact, he did not plan to interact with anyone. Katsuki was just keeping his word to his pack, but the way you moved was captivating. Your sweet aura lured the male to you without even trying. With the mixture of alcohol in your veins and your heat, you were inviting trouble.

“You’re coming with me.” Katsuki growled, his possessiveness already starting to show. If you were not in the state you were in currently, you would challenge the Alpha, but your submissive ways were on full display as the stranger led you to his car. You ignored the appalled glances of your peers who have seen you challenge anyone who even gazed in your direction. Now, this man you have never seen before is guiding you to his vehicle.

Katsuki Bakugo is used to girls throwing themselves at him. He is quite handsome with blonde fluffy hair, crimson gaze, kissable lips, and of course, a muscular exterior. He towers over you so easily making you feel petite. You should take this as a challenge like you do with anyone else, but the way dominance expels from his strong frame, you know your place quickly.

So when Katsuki easily threw you onto his king size bed, your face deep into the silk sheets that his scent was all over. Your submissive side was on full display, not an ounce of attitude, dismay, or defiance leaving your lewd lips. It was hard to hear anything with your bare ass up in the air and Katsuki’s cock already sinking deep into your weeping depths.

“Already so fuckin’ wet and I haven’t done shit to you.” Katsuki smirked, his cock sliding in with ease. He could smell your heat on the way and his Alpha senses were on fire. This is such a dangerous game you two are playing and that was so accelerating for the both of you.

Each stroke, your toes curled and your nails dug into his sheets. “Don’t be going and fuckin’ up my sheets now. Shit is expensive.” Katsuki chastised with a harsh slap to your ass that followed. Katsuki made sure to pull on your hair so he could hear you yelp from the impact, your claws digging into the sheets once more.

When you did not acknowledge his statement, another harsh slap followed to your ass. “Oi, did you not hear what I just fuckin’ said or did I fuck you dumb already?”

“I-I heard you.” You mumbled, trying to come back to reality. Katsuki was hitting your cervix with each stroke that you couldn't see straight. All you could feel is the impending doom that was building in the pit of your stomach.

Katsuki chuckled harshly as he felt your desperate walls flutter around his shaft, signaling he was sending you over the edge in the matter of seconds. Just when you thought you could see the light at the end of the glorious tunnel, Katsuki yanked on your hair some more to where your spine was practically cracking.

“If you think you can just not answer me when I’m speaking to you, you’re mistaken, ya damn brat.” Katsuki growled as he tugged on your hair even more. You could feel some strands coming out of your tender scalp from the impact. “I also suggest you better watch how you fuckin’ talk to me.”

“I-I’m sorry.” You whimpered in desperation, tears brimming your pleading eyes. You were too far gone to argue with him. All you wanted was your ecstasy only he could provide at this exact moment.

“Fuckin’ better be.” Katsuki huffed before using his free hand to grab your face, your jaw immediately opening from his brute force as he spat into your mouth. “Now be a good little whore and learn to fuckin’ listen.”

The spit slid down your throat, his dominance now entering your bloodstream and removing any ounce of defiance left in you. All you know was his presence, his scent clogging your nostrils and going straight up to your brain. All those years of trying to prove something you are not are going down the drain. You are under his spell. And with each thrust, bringing you closer and closer to the beauty that will combine you two together, his canines brush over your veins that were prevalent in your neck.

You both are slipping. Falling into the internal darkness that is your nature and desires. There is nothing you can do as you become the truest form of yourself that is triggering Katsuki’s primal instincts.

With a low growl, Katsuki sinks his teeth into your neck. Marking you as his.

Forever.

If you knew what you know now, you would have never gone home with Katsuki that night. You would have ignored the intimidating yet interesting presence that entered the club. If anything, you would have stayed home like your friend suggested.

Now, here you are, chained up in the basement as you hear the heavy footsteps of your captors boots above. Dust falls with each large step and causes you to cough. You have been down here for a couple of days now for disobeying Katsuki. You thought the abuse was bad, but the endless darkness, unknown noises, and the draft that seems to seep from every nook and cranny seems far worse.

The metal shackles cling against the beam keeping you down in the hell that is now your home. Your body trembles from the unpleasant conditions. And just when you thought it could not get much worse, a blinding light comes through with a slam of a wooden door following it.

You covered your eyes from the illumination so the burning sensation will go away as you listened to the heavy footsteps jog down the stairs. You did not have to see who it was. As much as you dreamed and wished it would be anyone else, you knew better than to believe such fantasies. Even if they magically manifested into reality, the hard nudge of a thick leather boot is quick to snap you back to reality.

“You alive?” Katsuki’s gruff voice questioned. When you peak, your heart races. Your omega instincts are clawing within you to go be with your Alpha, but your stubbornness is still ingrained within you.

Something Katsuki just can’t seem to break.

“Still not talkin’, eh?” Katsuki observed you with an arched golden brow. You did not have the energy to reply. Two days without any food, water, light, warmth; it brings your energy down.

The shackles release from you as Katsuki lifts you up and throws you over his broad shoulder. You witness the darkness become further and further before the wooden door closes, engulfing you in brightness.

Katsuki sets you down on a pillow around the table. A decent portion of rice sits before you with a glass of water. Katsuki sits across from you, his own food awaiting him. You have learned in your short time here that Katsuki knows how to cook, but due to his job, he doesn’t have tons of time to do so. So, easy meals are his go-to at times.

Not that you complain. You are quick to eat up the food with Katsuki observing you, silently. His crimson gaze was burning into your sore flesh but you did not care at the moment. You are scarfing down your meal as if it would vanish at any given moment.

Because it can.

And Katsuki has shown that a handful of times.

Once you finish your warm cooked supper, you gulp down the cold beverage. Katsuki’s gaze never falters. Even when yours finally lands upon his. The intensity builds between you two. All the unspoken words, the degrading words and actions he does to you, the hatred that has built up inside of you. Everything was present in each other's gaze.

After what felt like an eternity, you broke the silence. “Thank you.” You muttered out, your voice still hoarse from the horrors of the last forty-eight hours of deprivation. Katsuki just kept quiet. No remorse swam in his eyes.

Only need for control.

Katsuki eventually stood up and grabbed each of your empty dishes. You flinched on instinct as he approached you and you could see the smug smirk that wanted to appear on his lips. If you were not so exhausted, you’d slap it off of his face.

As you observe him go into the kitchen and hear the sound of the water running to wash the dishes, your eyes gravitate towards the front door.

“Freedom.” You whisper to yourself knowing that your freedom is right there; right in reach. Your abuser made the mistake of leaving you unattended. Maybe it was a test? A test you were willing to fail if it meant you met your ultimate goal.

A burst of energy electrifies through you as you find your way to your numb feet. Upon shaken legs, you take one last glance over your shoulder before bolting towards the door. Each step forwards was a step towards your victorious glory. There it was; just behind this door.

The need for freedom was blinding all of your senses. You did not even hear the sound of the water turning off in the kitchen, the harsh curses escaping Katsuki’s lips as his long purposeful strides ate up yours. Just as you felt the breeze from outside dance in your hair as you opened the exit door, it was quickly slammed shut.

Victory obliterated.

All the strength you once had danced away in the wind along with your dreams of the life that was almost yours. Now, you are back into the harsh grasp you have become numb to.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Katsuki exclaims in frustration, shaking you in anger. If you were not already crying in defeat, you could witness the pools of sadness swimming in Katsuki’s desperate eyes. “Why can’t you just love me, dammit?!”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the sting of Katsuki’s backhand met your cheek. “Shut up, Y/N! Just shut the fuck up!” He roared as tears finally fell down his face. You were taken back by his sudden display of emotion. He was no longer holding onto you, he was pacing as if he was attempting to regain sanity.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not with you.” Katsuki admits aloud as he continues to pace. “I have my whole future ahead of me, but you came and wrecked that for me, Y/N. You ruined everything!”

“I’m sorry.” You mumer out on reflex. Katsuki has beaten you down enough so that you learn to apologize for any minor inconvenience in his life. You tend to pay the ultimate price for it regardless.

“What have I told you about sayin’ shit you don’t mean, Y/N?” Katsuki hisses through gritted teeth. His large shaky hands ball up into fist beside him, his whole demeanor cracking under the pressure of it all.

You stood there, frozen in fear. You are unsure of what to say or do. You are in the same room as a fierce predator who can demolish you in an instant, who has broken you down time and time again, and look at him; falling apart. What can you even say or do to fix this? He has acted out irrationally many times, but this was.. new.

A large thud startles you as you see Katsuki drop to his knees in defeat. His strong stature slumped over, his breathing rigid, and identity just shattered all over the hardwood floor. You are stunned into place, overwhelmed by the spectacle that is occurring in front of you.

“K-Katsuki..” You stammer as you place out a quivering hand. Katsuki has gone silent and you are afraid his heart might have gone out. Not that you should care, but he has beaten you into caring to some extent, unfortunately.

“Katsuki.. ?” You call out again and that’s when Katsuki looks up at you, his crimson gaze wicked and predatory.

On instinct, you rush out the door that is behind you and still unlocked from your earlier encounter. This time, you get out. The breeze that blew away your strength and dreams of victory was waiting for you and with each stride, you gained some of yourself back. The woman that has always been loud, strong, brave, and everything in between has returned.

As your bare feet touch the grass below, you could feel the warmth from the sun radiate against your skin. Something you have not felt since being in captivity. And even if this was all temporary, even a slither of the best dream of your entire life, it was worth it all.

Even when you go tumbling down to the ground from Katsuki catching up to you and pouncing on top of you. The Alpha always wins.

Especially one as great as Katsuki Bakugo.

You attempted to fight him off. “Get the hell off of me!” You demanded, but you are quickly silenced when Katsuki sinks his sharp fangs into the mark he left in you that night.

The night that changed everything.

Your body goes limp as you quit fighting. Your need for Katsuki increases with each passing second. His dominance drips into your bloodstream like a poison you cannot ever escape. And once Katsuki got you right where he wanted you, he met your gaze with a triumphant smirk.

“Don’t blame me, brat. Love made me fuckin’ crazy.”

©bakugosbratx

538 notes · View notes

honeymoonblues · 2 months ago

Text

The One Your Friends Don't Like

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Everyone has something to say when a girl has fun with the local freak.

Word count: 2.6k

Warning: Some cursing.

A/N: I had this one on the drafts for a long time. Silly little thing. Incredibly self indulgent. I usually make my fics with a gender neutral reader, but I felt this one needed to be fem! for the sake of the plot. Please, let me know if there are any spelling errors, English is not my first language.

You had never expected it to end the way it ended.

In fact, you distinctively remember thinking no one would ever find out that you were passing notes in class. Why would anyone know?

Except Eddie Munson had a big fucking mouth. And you had a friend in common with him (sort of).

The thing was, you were bored. Badly. And the biology professor had this superpower of putting everyone to sleep with his monotonous voice. So it wasn’t intentional when your spaced out gaze landed on him. On Eddie Munson, of all people.

Your pencil fell to the floor because you got startled when he smirked at you. And then, came the little note.

His handwriting was hideous, but legible. The paper seemed torn from another class’ book. You didn’t write anything back. Instead, you made a little grotesque cartoon of the professor, which Eddie seemed to appreciate very much.

“You think Munson is cute?”

How the fuck had Vicki already found out about it by lunch, you had no idea. But you were about to find out.

“I don’t-”, you started, but she didn’t let you finish.

“He told me that you were staring at him,” she scoffed smugly.

God, you hated that expression on her. The smile forming on your lips was totally betraying you, but you weren’t about to give her the satisfaction.

“And since when are you friends with Eddie Munson?”

“He’s friends with Kate’s brother, you know Gareth,” she waved her hand around, “they’re in that, uh… club together, and a band. He’s always hanging out at Kate’s.”

Asking her not to make a big deal out of it was useless, you knew her mind was already scheming to set you two up.

“You’re dating this idiot?!”

There was nothing you appreciated more in your friendship with Robin than her honesty. Even if sometimes she was too honest.

“We’re not dating! We just, uh… hanged out once.”

“Yeah, well, be careful. I haven't heard too many kind things about him.”

Her tone softened, meaning she was trying her best to understand you.

The truth is, it had been a date, no matter how much Eddie and you acted like you were above all that sort of stuff.

His handwriting had been clearer on that one note, neater, with more thought behind it. You felt his big brown eyes on you while you read it, so you knew you had to act as cool as possible. As if him inviting you to a literal date wasn’t freaking you out. You didn’t even pass the note back, you just nodded in his direction, and he smiled while twirling his hair on his finger.

In the end, Vicki didn’t even had to set you up, Eddie asked you out himself, like a big boy (kind of).

The guys leaving the club session looked at you like you had grown a second head.

“Band practice is down the hall”, one of them snickered. That was Gareth, you assumed.

“I know”. You narrowed your eyes, holding your saxophone case a little tighter and breathing deeply. Gosh, and these were Eddie’s friends?

Immediately after, Eddie’s big eyes sparkled when he saw you outside the classroom.

“Hey, you made it”.

Like the other boys, he wore the club’s t-shirt but this one looked particularly clean. You saved your comments to yourself, though, and just smiled back.

The moments you were deciding where to go were the most awkward. You could tell that Eddie wasn’t used to talking to many girls. No matter how much of a peacock he acted like when he was in a ten-foot radius of a cheerleader.

If there was a contest for Weirdest Location for a First Date, Eddie and you would’ve won first place. You both agreed on going to the Hawkins’ graveyard. The place worked to ease your nerves, somehow.

Many graves had stories you’d heard over the years. And of course, the metalhead guy loved to hear about them, tagging on with his versions or additions to them.

The date went well and it definitely helped to fuel both of your delusions of being cool and oh, so edgy. In reality, you were just two nerds walking and laughing in an inappropriate place, while not having the guts to admit this was a date.

When the “hanging out” turned to actual dates, you knew it was going to be impossible to hide it from Robin. And you braced yourself for her reaction.

“How many times did you kiss him?”

If she'd asked a day before, you would confidently say ‘three times’. But after the makeout session the night before, it wasn’t like you could keep count of that.

Your skin crawled by imagining telling this to her, so of course, you omitted the question.

“No, wait wait! Don't answer that. I need a complete timeline: from the first date to the first kiss, to now.”

You scoffed.

“What are you waiting for? Start talking.”

Oh, she was serious about it.

So you talked, knowing there wasn’t any way of getting out of it.

She already knew about the graveyard, so there was little comment to make about it.

The words you chose were careful, though. Robin wasn’t too thrilled about Munson at all, so you had to put effort in making him look as good as possible while keeping it in the realm of possibility.

You spoke about how witty he was, but didn’t mention the fact that you held your breath the first time you walked into his room. Not that you were the picture of cleanliness, let’s be honest, but you had wondered just how long had it been since his sheets had seen the inside of a washing machine. (Not like that had stopped you from rolling around on his bed, anyway).

You talked of how he was actually a bookworm and really interesting to converse with, but kept quiet about how, just on your third date, he immediately asked you to stay the night after getting his hands under your shirt.

You told Robin about his encyclopedic knowledge of music, similar to Robin's, but carefully omitted the fact that he had bitten you despite you asking him not to. You had moaned at it, either way.

Trusting him was a hard task. Sure, maybe you were paranoid, but this guy made up stories as a hobby. And even if he didn’t, he seemed too eager to impress any girl in his vicinity to be a hundred percent trustful.

“Oh, I don't believe you.” That phrase came out of your mouth so often now, it was almost funny.

“I swear! Cross my heart and hope to die.” Dramatic as always, of course.

“Sure, whatever you say, man.”

But truths and lies weren’t that important when he kissed you so sweetly. As sweet as this brute could be. It was very endearing.

You didn’t give a fuck if that fight he was telling you about was real, or if his band was as awesome as he said, not when he pulled your hair and bit your lip in that way that made you shiver.

Let him talk, you thought, he had a cute mouth anyway.

Between nerdy conversations about Lord of the Rings or music, and heated makeout sessions on his bed, or yours (whichever was available at the time), there was always a debate that bubbled up between you two.

“Doesn’t that fuck up your brain or whatever?”

“princess, it’s 1986. Everyone smokes weed.” You had stopped fighting that nickname long ago, you even stopped cringing at it, somehow.

“Not everyone!”

“Yeah, well, it’s you and Vicki against the world, then.”

It’s not like you ever expected him to change his ways; that was stupid. But it was annoying when he expected you to just… be okay with it.

Still, he stopped smoking when he was with you —wow, what a gentleman!— and you ignored the fact that he may or may not sell pot. Closing your eyes and letting his hands wander was the best way to forget everything about it.

The sun was already setting on a beautiful Saturday afternoon when you brought it up.

“Remember how I told you Robin doesn’t like you much? Like, at all.” Your breath felt a bit shallow, you had kissed for what felt like hours at this point.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, uh… It’s mostly because she told me she saw you and Chrissy Cunningham together the other day… You know, alone and everything.” Your gaze was unblinking, boring into his eyes as if you were trying to read his mind.

His blush was a little more intense than before, reaching his ears, but he didn't hesitate in answering, “I never talked to her before, Robin must have mistaken me for another person.”

Your silence must have freaked him out a bit, because he croaked a tiny “I swear!” that sounded quite pathetic, even for him.

The intention of this whole afternoon was to talk to him about being exclusive. You hadn’t been mad about the Chrissy thing, really. It wasn’t like Eddie and you were official at all. Even if he liked to make it very obvious that you were together every time he crossed paths with you at school. But now that he was denying everything? Yeah, the exclusivity thing didn’t sound so appealing to you anymore.

Because you’d lied. It wasn’t just Robin that caught him, you were there, too.

“Are you sure, Eddie? I’m not… I’m not mad about it.” But you were starting to be.

“Yes, yes! It’s funny, actually… I, uh, had like, the biggest crush on her in middle school, you know? But not anymore, princess! I don’t even look in her direction, I promise.”

You felt like you hadn’t blinked in the last five minutes.

Fuck this! You didn’t want to be his girlfriend. That was never the intention with this whole thing. You just wanted to have some damn fun for once.

“Okay…” You said carefully, “just… don’t expect Robin to talk nicely to you, okay?”

“I’m used to people not liking me, princess, nothing new.”

Your smile was tight, and the way he twirled his hair had never bothered you this much before.

“So, I heard there’s this party next Saturday...” You said.

The mirror smiled back at you after you applied your lipstick. You were already a little tipsy after the pregame at Vicki’s, but you did your makeup flawlessly in front of her bathroom mirror.

’Hot’ was the right word to describe you that Saturday, you felt confident, you looked cool, and you were definitely ready for some kissing and smooching. If you ended up in Eddie’s van? Even better.

Your friends were not so thrilled about seeing Eddie, not after the Chrissy thing, but they knew they couldn’t do much to stop you. Those were your bad decisions to make.

The party was flooding with people, and it took an absurd amount of time to find Eddie, even when he was the flashiest thing in the room.

By the time you got to him, you were way too drunk. No longer just tipsy. The unknown substance in your red cup was doing its job, and you could barely keep steady on your feet when you found yourself in his arms.

Your friends were cringing hard when you kissed him in front of them, staining his face with lipstick. He was very, very pleased with it, though. Even if he felt heavily judged by everyone in your circle.

In the end, he ended up taking you home, but not in the way you’d have liked. Because the moment you stepped outside and started to walk to his van, heavy nausea hit you with the cold air of the night,

Your vomit stained his sneakers a bit, but he didn’t complain. In fact, he had never been this gentlemanly before. Even your friends, usually very unimpressed with him, were surprised.

He made sure you drank water, wrapping you in his jacket and then drove you home, making sure you made it up the stairs without falling and tucking you in like a good, responsible boy,

“I’m sorry I ruined the night.” You murmured sleepily before he left.

“Are you kidding? You throwing up was so metal! I’m honored I got to witness it.”

He was such a freak.

You were tugging at your hair, frustrated. After just finishing it, you accidentally tipped your glass of water over all your homework, so you had to redo it. Then, your friends who were supposed to hang out at your house didn’t show up, and you had cooked for them. And while you tried to calm down with a nice hot coffee, your favourite mug slipped from your hands and shattered into a million pieces on the ground.

You needed to call Eddie. Maybe he’d help you laugh about it a little.

The phone call had been 30 minutes long at this point. You sighed, feeling a little better, but still guilty for talking about yourself and your own problems nonstop.

“I feel like I complain too much sometimes,” you chuckled.

“Princess, I know the female population, okay? They are always complaining about everything, all the time. I’m used to it, don’t worry.”

He knows the what, now?

“Eddie, what the fuck?” But the idiot kept on talking.

“Yeah, princess, it’s fine. I mean, we guys don’t give a shit about most things. But that’s just natural, you know? It’s like, biological.”

Hanging up on him had never felt so good. No goodbye, no nothing. Seriously, who does he think he is?

You needed to call Robin. Maybe she’d help you laugh about it a little.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

This conversation wasn’t meant to be had over the phone, but the winter break had just started, and you were leaving on vacation the next day. Leaving this matter to stretch over time would just make it worse. You wanted to enjoy your holidays without anything weighting on your mind.

Not that he could ever convince you to stay with him, anyway. There had been a long talk with your friends about all this. And the jury had decided he should be executed out of your life. You agreed, of course.

There was only so many things one could ignore in the name of fun. And when your frustration started to surpass the enjoyment, what was the point?

He was not the type of guy you could introduce to your parents. He was not even the type of guy you could see with a steady relationship. You realized you wanted a little bit more romance than he could get you.

So you mentally prepared yourself for this phone call, for his insistence, for his endless questions, even for some anger.

“I didn’t mean to tell you this over the phone, I’m sorry.” Your voice was steady, clear, no sign of doubt.

“Oh…” Silence. And then, a moment after: “It’s okay, I get it. Thank you for these last few months.”

“Uh, Eddie-”

“Goodbye.”

You stuttered a goodbye, but it was too late, he had already hung up.

Shortest phone call of your life.

“Honey, he sells drugs. You didn’t know that?”

“Not until very recently…” Liar, liar, pants on fire.

Your friend laughed, shaking her head.

Now, your friends would have something to tease you about for the rest of your life. And you’d have all that time to pretend you didn’t enjoy his company or act like you didn’t notice what a mess he was.

And maybe he’d try to contact you again, try to get close. But you’d ignore him, walking awkwardly past him in the school hallway.

Still, he’d live forever in your mind as the one your friends didn’t like.

#my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem reader #stranger things #oneshot

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morphids · 6 months ago

Note

Omg… I love your works I’ve been keeping up with them for a while now! How cute would it be for Levi and Hange to be childhood friends and for reader to be Levi’s little sister in a modern! I imagine reader would have a crush on Hange but not say anything until they’re all adults 😭 probably mentioning it briefly in conversation like “haha yeah i had a crush on you… anyway”

brother’s best friend, hange zoë

oh hell yeah i love this!! sorry, i made it smutty—couldn’t help myself <3 hope u enjoy anonie! i put my whole pussy into it lmao

summary: brothers best friend!hange x f!reader modern au.

warnings: 18+ minors & ageless blogs dni!! explicit sexual content. poc friendly! nb!hange x female!reader. forbidden/secret relationship, switch!hange, switch!reader, older brother!levi. lesbian activity, yearning, angst? jealousy, fwb!abby anderson x reader cameo, dirty talk, tongue piercing, fingersucking, fingering, munching, strap usage, strap licking, hange refers to the strap as their cock once, they're both whores. for eachother <3. can't think of anything else. hange is tatted n pierced cos i said so :p

wc: 12.4k words.. look idk either don't ask. proofread but there's so many words im sure there's bound to be errors with my dyslexic ass.

—

As a child, you always used to follow your older brother everywhere. I mean, that's kind of a rite of passage as a younger sibling. You looked up to him, his friend group was nice to you, much to Levi's discontent, always buying you ice cream and little snacks and ruffling your hair until it was a tangled mess on your head.

You were only two years younger than him, but he acted like you were eight years old whenever you'd ask if you could go out with him and his friends.

"No—you can come when you're taller than me." He'd say, it worked when you were still smaller, but you had a little growth spurt, making you almost the same height as him. Levi hated that, being victim to endless teasing from both your parents and his friends.

"But, I'm already almost taller than you?"

"Doesn't matter, brat." But he'd sigh, and let you go anyway. Feeling your mother's stare on him, no words needed, a simple look that stated, 'Take her with you, and don't argue,"

It wasn't like you didn't have any friends of your own to hang out with, but his were just, so cool. So different to yours. They stayed out much later and did more fun things like going to buy milkshakes and sit around idly in parks. Stuff your friends weren't allowed to do.

Plus, one particular friend of his always caught your eye more than the others. Hange.

With their comfy cardigans and messy hair, cheerful smile and bright demeanour. They were way taller than Levi, you always found that funny. How technically, he wasn't even tall enough to go out either by the standards he placed on you.

Looking back on it, you were a little embarrassed at how you trailed after Hange like a lost puppy. Eyeing their every move and following them as you tried to force their attention on you. Cringing at your younger self, you just really liked them. Wanted to be their friend, to hang out with them as much as you could.

Now, though, you had all grown into adulthood, you were in your first semester at college, at home for the first break of the year. The woes of young adulthood following you around like it did everyone else.

Levi and Hange remained best friends throughout, many of his other friends moving to distant colleges, whilst both of them stayed local, their friendship held strong.

You were currently reading a book on your bed as you heard the familiar laughs from Hange, and chattering from Levi through the open gap of your door.

You always admired their friendship, how close they were and the effort they made into retaining it. Many of your own friendships had come and gone, lost to time and petty arguments but theirs never did, not even once.

Sure, you had Mikasa, the closest you had to a best friend but she was bound to you by familial ties and family values. You often wondered if your friendship would've remained if you weren't cousins. You weren't ungrateful, though, Mikasa is a ride-or-die type of person. If you were friends with her, she'd die for you. Her own code of loyalty un-breaking in the face of silly things that'd rip other friendships apart. You hadn't seen her for a few days, though. She'd gone on some trip with her parents and boyfriend, and not wanting to ruin their family bonding time you opted to stay at home during the holidays.

Consequently, you were insanely bored. Out of your mind, even. You had read that book maybe five times? You weren't sure if you had it in you to finish it for the sixth. So, rather begrudgingly, you made your way down the stairs, to where Levi and Hange were sat playing video games on the couch.

Hange's legs were spread as their elbows rested on each knee, both of them hunched over their remotes, backs bent to feel closer to the screen. Shouting incoherently as their chosen characters were beating each other up, throwing high kicks and brutal uppercuts in a 1v1.

You watched them for a while, laughing as Levi got his ass kicked by Hange's chosen character. Claiming that Hange was cheating to make himself feel better about losing.

Hange hadn't changed much, their features were the same, albeit more pronounced and mature. It was their style that changed the most, going from dorky graphic tees to tightly cropped tank tops that exposed their arms and baggy ripped jeans that hung low on their slender hips. Not to mention the new piercings and the tats that now covered their wrists and upper chest, often poking through the collar hem.

Their hair was shorter, now, too. Layered strands falling out of its tie as shorter pieces framed the structure of their face. A curved, short metallic line pierced through their right eyebrow, along with a small band hanging off their septum on a curved nose. Hange was always attractive, for sure, but they got insanely hot. Confidence just radiated from them as they got comfortable in their own skin. You had always been drawn to them, you just got better at hiding it. The prefrontal cortex developing into self-awareness at how embarrassing it was to be so openly craving Hange's attention. Plus, they were Levi's best friend, it simply couldn't happen.

Did I mention they were also gay? You remembered when Hange first came out to Levi, nervously telling him about a crush they had on a cute barista in the city. You also especially remembered the way your chest constricted and the bitter taste that soured your tongue as Hange fawned over this cute girl they spoke to just a few times.

Levi took it well, like a good friend, besides he was gay, too— in love with Erwin. He told you about their secret kisses and conflicted feelings one night, after a bit too much to drink that he was heartbroken when Erwin moved away, and onto to better things. A disregarded potential relationship that never kicked off, he hasn't found another half since. You wished he would, he was a good person.

Hange noticed you standing behind them, head turning slightly for confirmation of your presence before turning back to try and focus on the screen. You were bent over the back of the couch, elbows resting on the cushions as you watched their game, the loose, comfy shorts exposing your thighs and a tight long-sleeved shirt with a cut down to the chest, pretty white lace rimming the hem as it sunk down. Due to your position, the grooves of your cleavage were slightly exposed, enhanced by the propping up by your elbows on the couch.

Hange suddenly started doing really bad at the game, their fumbling allowed Levi to throw them off and back them into the far edge of the screen, hit after hit until the health bar lowered fully and a low 'fatality' sounded out from the speakers.

"Fucking finally!" Levi exclaimed, shocked but happy that he won a match at long last. Hange groaned, setting the controller down, standing up to stretch their limbs, tank riding up their stomach as they did so.

"I don't even know how that happened, man." "Needa get your head in the game!" Levi was revelling in his win, clearly it must not happen very often for him. "Big talk for someone who lost every other match," Hange teased, taking a sip from their bottled water as they glanced up at you.

"Wanna play?" They asked, passing you the remote. "Nah, I'm good, would rather watch you beat Levi." "Man, screw you." Levi chuckled, knowing you weren't wrong. He had won by pure chance, and perhaps a little added distraction.

You moved around the couch to enter the kitchen for some snacks, Hange's gaze trailing after you as you walked away. Eyes falling down to subtly observe the way the hem of your shorts cut off a little too far up on your thighs, shaping around the curve of your ass as the soft fabric swished with your movements. You looked fucking good, with your hips that now filled out any pair of your jeans, smooth thighs and nice bre—

"Stop that," Levi tutted, smacking his hand hard on the back of Hange's head. "Hey! Stop what?" Hange responded, more defensively than they'd like to admit, rubbing their head over where Levi's knuckles had collided. "Staring at her," He whispered, not wanting you to hear from within the kitchen. He could hear you messing with plates and opening drawers, it was safe for now.

"I wasn— wasn't staring at her, man." "Sure. It's not like I have eyes or anything," Levi rolled his eyes, "Just don't stare at my sister like that, creep."

Hange scoffed, lowering their gaze to the remote, they weren't being a creep, right? You just got really hot, it wasn't a crime to look. It's not like they were going to actually try anything. You were Levi's little sister, for crying out loud!

"Whatever, man, let's just play," Hange muttered, loading the next match up. "Don't forget the promise." Levi murmured, eyes locked on the screen, not even looking at them as he said it.

Ugh, the promise.

The promise that Levi made his male, straight friends make to him, and then Hange, too, when they came out as a lesbian, the 'don't you dare try anything on her,' promise.

It happened one day after he caught Jean eyeing you up perversely, followed by an inappropriate comment about just how attractive you got and that he'd willingly take you out, amongst other things. Levi, being unimpressed as always, slapped him across the head, not so kindly letting him know you were strictly off-limits. That he shouldn't dare try anything, lest he face Levi's wrath.

He may have found you annoying, but you were still his sister. No matter what, he'd always want to keep you away from certain things, if he could help it. Canoodling around with Jean and ending up hurt was one of them, he didn't want another comment to be made like that in the future, so he made the others promise, too.

Hange wasn't like that, weren't a player by any means. Quite the opposite, respectful of women and monogamous, in fact, Hange had been the victim of being cheated on a few times. Never the other way around.

No, his motivations for making Hange promise were different than when he made Jean do it. Hange was his longest and most closest friend, he'd be damned if something were to happen between you, get fucked up and cost him their friendship. Didn't want the uncomfortable risk of being made to pick sides when something goes wrong and lose it all.

So that was that, you were off-limits. It was made abundantly clear. He didn't really care what you did with people he didn't know, or wasn't close with, isn't his business, frankly. But anyone in his friend group? No way. That was way too close for comfort.

"No one could forget the promise, Levi, y'never let 'em." Hange huffed, he had always been so insistent with it. "Good."

Hange hated that promise, with a passion. I mean, it's not like they intended to break it, and hurt Levi. But, come on? A promise? It's not like they'd fuck you around. You meant way more than that.

With a plate full of little cut up fruits in your hand, you stepped back into the living room, humming a random tune to yourself. Painfully, blissfully unaware of the conversation that had just taken place between them.

Hange made sure to keep their eyes locked in on the screen, especially as you sat yourself down on the floor in front of the couch, directly in front of Hange so you wouldn't block the television. Then especially as you grabbed at the squares of cut watermelon, propping it on your tongue and even more especially when Hange caught little drops of fruit juice trickling down the corner of your mouth. Their eyes darted away quickly, frenzied button smashing as they beat Levi again.

With an annoyed groan from Levi and a loud cheer from you, Hange felt a swell of pride within their chest as you rejoiced in their win against your brother. This is bad, they thought, they need to push that shit all the way down. And quickly.

—

A few days had passed, and the conversation they had the other day was completely forgotten, at least by Levi. It was eating Hange up alive. Guilt feeding at their chest as they knew none of this wouldn't end well, one way or another. It was getting harder and harder to be around you and pretend. Pretend that they weren't having weird thoughts about their best friend's sister.

Maybe Levi would make an exception for them?

Hange grunted, head in their hands as they knew that would simply never happen. Levi had made it too big an issue of it to simply back down now.

They were dreading the barbecue your family had so kindly invited them to, Hange was pretty much an honorary member of the household. Your parents absolutely loved them. Hange would hate to ruin that. Their own family wasn't as nice, or as welcoming. Hange felt extremely grateful that they had been given a second home and been able to experience what it was actually meant to be like. That couldn't all just go down the drain.

And yet, there you were.

Amongst the members of your family and invited friends, you were sitting outside on a deck chair, huddling around the table with Mikasa and another unidentified person, some buff woman with a long, blonde braid, whispering to each other, god knows what about. Your hand was cradled around the glass of your self-made cocktail, the other gesturing to match whatever you were talking about, a bright smile on your tainted dark-red lips and long-winged eye-liner to match.

Hange couldn't help but stand there and admire you. Levi's words echoed in their head whilst they looked at how the short, white dress fit around your chest. The way it tightly hugged your waist and flowed out. Levi's words repeated over and over like a mantra all the while.

I'm so fucking screwed.

That feeling soon doubled, however. Hange was sipping on their cold beer, taking a long swig of it. Their fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle as that unnamed person next to you placed their muscled arm around your waist. Comfortably and without a care in the world. Like it was so easy for them. The twist in their chest exacerbated when you leaned into their touch, placing your head on their shoulder, as you continued speaking with Mikasa.

Hange broke their gaze away as Levi shouted them over, asking for them to grab some spare cutlery from the kitchen. Being close enough with your family, Hange was often tasked with helping out. They didn't mind, honestly they'd rather go clean the whole damn kitchen if it meant not watching the way the blonde carelessly nuzzled her nose into your neck, and the giggles that left your lips. Hange wanted it to be them.

They quickly made their way into the empty house, the guests enjoying the sunshine outside as your father singed spiced meat on the barbecue. Chattering and drinking away. All of them without a care.

Hange stood there for a few seconds, trying to regulate themselves and rationalise. That the image of that shouldn't have affected them so much. They were being a terrible friend to Levi by even allowing the discomfort, by allowing the anger to be fuelled by a sight of you cuddling up to someone else. Knowing that they could never freely do so.

Hange didn't hear you step into the kitchen, about to grab some paper towels for the drink you'd spilled all over the table outside.

"Um, are you okay?"

Your recognisable voice rang out amongst the silence, Hange's head turning towards you.

"Oh—um, yeah, yeah, I'm good." Lies.

"You sure?" You stepped closer to them, placing a hand on their bicep with concern. Hange could smell the intoxicating signature perfume you always wore, vanilla with tones of lavender, "You were just kinda stood there?" Your expression was worried, brows furrowed as you looked them over.

You had always been so caring, especially towards Hange, but right now it was just stressing them out. Too confusing. It was allowing them to think too deeply on the why.

"I just... forgot what I came here for," Another lie. Yet, the way it came out from them was way too easy, one of the perks of growing up in a house where you had to evade certain truths to avoid harsh punishment.

You bit your lip and furrowed your brows, a hint that you didn't quite believe what they were spewing, but decided not to push it.

"Alright, I just came for some napkins," Your hand left their arm, "You should join us out there, Mikasa wants to ask you stuff about her course, you both study the same thing."

Greaat. Hange wanted to throw themself on the barbecue. Of fucking course.

Hange and Levi were in their last year of college, due to graduate this year. Mikasa started studying the same course, Hange remembered you mentioning it once. Normally, they'd have no qualms about helping out, but right now? Having to sit with you all, right next to the woman they had no idea you were even seeing? And watch helplessly as she touched you in the places Hange so desperately wanted to in her stead? No, thank you.

But Hange has never been able to say no to you. So with a heavy heart, and a stiff smile they nodded. "Would love to,"

—

Hange was not having a happy fun time. Having joined your table with Levi, in hopes that it wouldn't be so suspect if he was there, too. It was fucking difficult, trying to eat your dad's delicious cooking and your mother's famously drizzled salad, whilst you and the other girl, who they now know was called Abby, were chatting amongst yourselves.

Hange tried to focus on the questions about the course that Mikasa had. Tried to be helpful, not glaring at the muscled blonde that enjoyed touching you up at a family gathering a little too much. How could Levi not have a problem with this? How could he sit there and eat nonchalantly like his little sister wasn't getting felt up by this stranger you'd invited?

Hange would never be able to do this, not in a million years.

Mikasa had eventually ran out of questions for Hange, leaving the table with the typical silence that befalls over people enjoying a good meal. Apart from you and Levi bickering a little bit, and a few chatters between you, Mikasa and Abby, there was a lot of empty gaps.

Hange was usually someone that had a lot to say, with a lot to contribute to group outings, sometimes even too much. But right now? They could barely find a word to utter. Focusing on sipping their beer and finishing their meal. All whilst trying to ignore how Abby's hand landed at your thigh, with a squeeze so subtle that no one else batted an eye at it, except Hange.

They were hyperaware of all of the touches, and not proud to admit how it made their entire body seethe. Was this your new girlfriend? Hange didn't even know you were into women. Obviously, asking in the past would've probably made Levi question their motives, so they just always assumed you were straight, accepting they didn't have a chance. Hange's brain felt heavy, so full of thoughts that just wouldn't stop.

"Are you feeling better?" The sweetness in your voice didn't help, neither did the cautious look in your eyes as you asked them the question, clearly still thinking about Hange's odd behaviour from earlier. "Yeah, why?" "You've been quieter than usual, weirdo, it's freaky." said Levi, picking his food apart with a fork.

"I'm fine." They muttered, necking the last dregs of the bottle, hating how the attention had turned to them. Focus on the weird stranger feeling up your sister, not me!

After a while, Hange and Levi excused themselves, leaving the table and going to play video games in the living room, Hange thanked their lucky stars they could finally leave the table. Storming away would've brought too many questions they weren't ready to answer yet.

—

Night fell, the guests had left, your parents had gone to bed and all that remained was you and Abby chatting outside. Hange was nested on the couch in the dark, cozied up with a blanket. Levi didn't like sharing his bedroom very often, so Hange was sometimes exiled to the couch— it was a really comfortable couch, though, so it wasn't the worst scenario.

No, the worst scenario was right outside the backyard door, trying to creep inside quietly. Hange thought it was just you, at first, trying to drunkenly enter the house without waking your parents. They hadn't expected to see the Abby's silhouette trailing behind you, hand in hand.

It was dark, but certain lights from the outside were shining through the door, which was more a slidable window than a door. Hange wanted to sink into the couch when they heard your soft gasps as they could make out Abby pressing you up against the wall. Followed by the low smacking of lips against your neck as you let out a quiet moan, Abby quickly covered your mouth with her palm to keep you quiet, with a gentle, ssh. Clearly, neither of you noticed the other presence in the room, sat on the couch with an unfortunate view of the whole thing.

This was torture. Was this God's punishment for emotionally breaking Levi's promise? For having such thoughts about you and weird, romantic feelings towards you since you were both teens?

Hange shut their eyes, heart racing from accidentally witnessing the intimate sight, awkwardly covering their face with the blanket so they could see no more. Wishing that their torture would end. Unfortunately, they could still hear you kissing each other as you led Abby upstairs to your bedroom. They could still hear your door shut and the subsequent creaking of your bed right above their head.

They just didn't happen to hear the way you accidentally ended up moaning Hange's name into Abby's ear as she fucked you.

—

You were mortified.

So ashamed of your own actions as the sober morning awoke your thoughts. It had been a very awkward encounter between you and Abby.

Look, you weren't dating, it was a purely physical relationship. It started a few weeks ago when you needed some quick relief from someone you trusted and Abby happened to feel the same. You were both on the same page that there were no feelings involved, a simple friends with benefits agreement. A you scratch my back, I scratch yours, situation.

That doesn't mean that explaining to your college friend why you had moaned your brother's childhood best friend's name into her ear as she was knuckles deep inside you was a fun conversation to have. You didn't exactly fucking mean to, Hange had just looked so delicious all day, as they always did, you couldn't get them out of your mind. Plus, they were behaving odd yesterday, and as a concerned citizen, of course they had ended up on your mind? That was normal, right?

Abby was understanding, of course, she was, she was the sweetest. Even going as far as wishing you good luck and hoping that it ends up with the outcome you want. It didn't alleviate the embarrassment, though, finding yourself locked alone in the early morning hours as Abby vacated your house. You didn't want to face Hange, even if they didn't know what happened— you did, that was enough motivation to isolate yourself for the rest of eternity.

The sound of your stomach rumbling was the only thing that propelled you out from your bed, forcing you to go downstairs and feed yourself some breakfast. So imagine your horror as you saw Hange laying on the couch, awake, watching videos on their phone in the early hours of the morning, as they sometimes do when Levi doesn't feel like sharing his tiny bed. He was a notoriously late riser. Did they see you and Abby last night? You'd been a bit too inebriated last night to notice if they had been there whole time. That just makes you feel even worse.

Hange was the one you wanted. You had always wanted Hange, even when you were younger and didn't realise what that drive was called. As you grew up and realised what it was, you just shoved it deeply away for Levi's benefit, knowing he was uncomfortable with you dating his friends. What a shitty situation.

"Looked like you had fun last night," Hange spoke without looking at you, eyes stuck on their phone. They don't know why they even said that. They shouldn't have said anything at all. It was none of their business, and it shouldn't matter. You weren't theirs. It shouldn't bother them if you were dating someone else, it definitely shouldn't make their chest tighten a cold grip around their throat at the thought of you sleeping with someone else.

"Uh, did you see anything?" what a great job of not sounding suspicious.

"I saw enough to know you had fun," Hange muttered, rolling their eyes, lifting themself up into a seated position.

"I'm so sorry, we didn't realise anyone was here," The shame was visibly clear in your voice, the way it fumbled and stuttered, "I wouldn't have done that if I saw you were here."

"Wouldn't have slept with her or wouldn't have done it in your living room?" It was out before Hange could stop it, resenting the reeking jealousy hanging off their words. They had no right.

"I.. it's not like I slept with her right on top of you." You defended, not enjoying Hange's clear disappointment towards you, it didn't feel good in your stomach.

"Hm— it was close enough." stop it, Hange, what exactly are you doing? Their inner monologue shouted at them.

"Please, like you've never slept with anyone before." You crossed your arms over your chest, sighing, getting visibly more upset.

"I—you're right. I'm sorry, it's not my place." Hange ceded, taking a deep breath that matched yours. Finally looking in your direction to make eye contact. They didn't love the guilt that was riddled on your face, they shouldn't have made you feel bad for that. It wasn't fair on you.

You eased up at their words, uncrossing your arms as you placed yourself next to them on the couch. Dropping on the cushion beside them with a loud thump.

"Please, just don't tell Levi, okay? I don't wanna hear it."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Hange's expression was vague, a weird mix of defeat and weak despair, their teeth drawing in their lower lip. You rested your head against Hange's shoulder, it felt too tense, a frigid air haunting the room as they placed their head over yours.

"She's not my girlfriend, alright, we just sleep together sometimes." There was no reason for you explain yourself, not officially anyway. You just didn't want Hange to think that you were dating Abby.

Hange nodded, ignoring the punch of all punches that just punctured deep within their chest, "Don't worry, I won't say anything, dear." Their words were soft, a sudden contrast to the escalating conflict that was about to happen moments before. Lifting your head slightly, your eyes met, looking up at Hange, who matched the eye contact. Both of you just sat there for a few seconds, gazing at each other with terse silence. Both forced to sit with the uncomfortable tension.

Against your better judgement, your gaze sunk to Hange's lips, just before the sound of Levi's bedroom door opening upstairs split you two away from each other. Heart race sped up against your ears as the both of you jumped up into proper posture like you hadn't just been inches apart a second ago. Levi was whistling as he came down the stairs, and you prompted yourself to finally get yourself some breakfast.

Staying inside the house was too much for you today, it was a Friday night, you should go out and have fun! Forget all these weird thoughts and just let loose. You messaged Mikasa whilst your bread was toasting, asking if she was up for going out later. Once she answered with an agreement, you had eaten your toast and told Levi you had plans for the night. Your parents had left early that morning for a weekend get-away, leaving him in charge of the house.

—

On the Uber ride back home from the bar, you felt bad for the poor driver. He had to listen to you and Mikasa talk nonsense and laugh hysterically at literally nothing reasonable, you had to remember to give him a tip. He definitely deserves it. Nothing worse than dealing with stupidly drunk people when you're stone sober. You ended up drinking more than you intended, spilling your feelings to Mikasa who listened intently to your woes before trying to get your mind off things—off Hange specifically.

The Uber reached your house, and you said your goodbyes, making sure Mikasa was sharing the trip with you so that you could make sure she got home safely, too. Girl code, you know?

At your doorstep, you struggled to find your keys, lost deep in the depths of your tote bag. You don't even know why you still used them, they were bad for your posture and everything gets lost in them. You resorted to loudly knocking on the door repeatedly so Levi could let you in.

"Why are you banging on the door like you're being chased?" Hange said, why they opened the door and not your brother, you were too drunk to figure out.

"I.. can't find my keys,"

Hange sighed, chuckling as they let you in. Seemingly over the encounter you both shared that morning. You definitely weren't.

"Where's Levi?" You mumbled, tripping over your the doorstep as you attempted to make your way inside, clawing at the wall to keep yourself stable. You hoped that sober you wouldn't remember that.

"On the phone to your parents, they wanted him to take a photo of something they forgot to take," Hange grabbed your wrist, holding you up as they brought you inside, "Just how drunk are you?"

"Hella," you laughed, your eyes sparkling up at them. Drunkenness evident in your face just by your eyes.

"Great, your parents won't want to see you like this,"

"What—I'm fine! I got home okay?" You argued, before Hange shushed you so that your parents couldn't hear your drunken slurring, grabbing your phone from your pocket, "Need to check if Mikasa did,"

Catching Levi's attention, he twisted his neck around to see what was going on, muting the microphone from his phone, so he could speak to Hange.

"Is she drunk?" He sighed, unamused and definitely not impressed.

"Like a pirate." Hange responded, still holding you up by your wrist, you glanced at their bare arms. Putting your phone away as the notification that Mikasa's journey had ended.

"I'm not that drun—"

"Fucks sake, Hange, take her upstairs." Levi interrupted you, tutting, not wanting to turn the mic back on until you'd both gone upstairs.

Hange pretty much carried you up, following behind you on the staircase like a bodyguard, with an arm held out to ensure that you didn't fall over and break something. Once you reached your bedroom safely, Hange brought you to your bed, taking off your boots and jacket before making you lie down on the mattress. You just looked up at them as they helped you wordlessly, watched as they grabbed a water bottle from your bedside table and passed it to you.

"You should drink some of that before you sleep, it'll help you tomorrow."

"I don't need water, like I said, I feel fine..." You argued again, ignoring that the room was spinning too much as you finally laid horizontally. Alcohol was grim.

"Just drink it." Hange crossed their arms, not budging until you lifted the bottle to your lips, almost drinking half of it before setting it down. Hadn't realised how thirsty you actually were.

"There, happy?"

"Very, goodnight." They turned around to leave you, hand hovering over the light-switch.

"Hange, wait." You shouted, they turned back around to face you, as you continued, "Can you stay with me? The room is spinning—don't wanna throw up."

Hange's eyes widened, mouth splitting open. "I.. don't think that's a very good idea." Levi was right downstairs, what if he thinks Hange was taking advantage of you or something?

Your persistence was almost admirable, lips curved into a slight pout as you gaze broke through theirs, reaching over to tug at Hange's shirt, "Please, Hange?"

With this, Hange was once again reminded of their inability to say no to you, sighing with defeat as they sat just an inch on your bed, their back to you as you were laid down. The awkward distance in between made it clear that they were planning on leaving again shortly, deciding to just linger around until you fell asleep, messing with their nails to pass the time. You were taking a while to drift away though, not happy with how far they were sitting from you, like you were contagious.

Whilst they were distracted with their fiddling, you drunkenly thought it was a good idea to grab the back of their shirt. Pulling at it until Hange was laying side by side to you, you ignored Hange's surprised yelp and rested your head on their chest. It felt more secure than the pillow, the room not spinning as much.

"That's better," you beamed, happy with yourself, snuggling in between Hange's arm as you sighed contently, basking in their warmth. Meanwhile, Hange was panicking, praying that Levi wouldn't walk in and think the worst. They hoped you couldn't feel their heart speed up with your proximity, or the quickened rises of their chest with your head snuggled into them as you tucked your feet underneath yourself.

Hange tried to ease their racing heartbeat by looking around your room. It was very you. Your personality all over the walls and decorations. Hange thought you had drifted off by then, until your voice broke the calming silence.

"You're so pretty, Hange."

They turn to face you, heart skipping as they see the starry admiration in your eyes, attributing that to the alcohol.

"You've clearly had too much to drink," Hange tries to shrug it off, despite the hot red splotching in their cheeks. They messed with their eyebrow piercing, spinning it around, a habit that formed quickly after it healed.

You firm it though, the many volumes of gin in your system easing your words out, "No. I always thought it, even when I wasn't legally allowed to drink," you huffed, nuzzling deeper into their chest, almost reaching the crook of Hange's neck.

Hange was freaking out, fumbling to think of a response, convincing themself that you were just drunkenly babbling—desperate to not let a little spark of hope develop into an unstoppable force. Yet, you held firm as an immovable object, wanting them to know just how serious you were. So they just scoffed, leaning their head back against your headboard in false nonchalance.

"I mean it! I had a little crush on you when we were younger."

Hange short-circuited, you had a crush on them? Wait—what do you mean by had? Did it disappear? Dissipated and lost in the wind as your network of people expanded and Hange wasn't the only person in your close proximity? They had a crush on you, too, but it never left.

Your head fell forwards, the weight of your own head too heavy to hold up any longer as it sank lower and lower, eventually resting totally on Hange. "Always wanted you to like me back—it's embarrassing..." you mumbled, eyes fluttering shut as your voice grew more drowsy, "Maybe one day."

Just Hange's luck, right? They wanted you to fall asleep that entire time and you'd refused, but as soon as you put those blasphemous words out there, sleep had already gotten its grip on you. By the time Hange worked up the courage to look down at you, you were snoozing away, regular, soft breaths escaping as you slept peacefully— unaware of the brain damage you just inflicted.

Well, shit, what now?

—

Levi was subsequently left alone downstairs the entire night. He knew he asked Hange to take you upstairs, but they'd been up there for a damn long time, now. It's not like he didn't trust Hange, he'd trust Hange with his life and yours any day. They were not a threat in any sense of the word.

But he had this itchy feeling in the back of his head, that he just had to go check out what was happening. He took himself up the stairs, waiting outside your bedroom door for a minute to sus if he could hear anything through the walls. At the silence, he turned the doorknob and looked at the scene.

Your boots, side by side in line on the floor against your bed. Your jacket neatly folded up at the edge of the bed. And then you, cradling a half-empty bottle of water as you were cozied under Hange's arm, both fully dressed, sleeping soundly and undisturbed on their chest. Hange was gone, too. Lost the fight against sleep as their head was leaning against the headboard, not the comfiest position but he'd seen Hange sleep in way worse conditions.

You two looked.. almost sweet. Innocently sleeping on each other that it almost made Levi feel guilty about the stupid promise. Almost.

The risk was still too strong a threat. Too big a risk to chance. It's not like he was stupid, he'd clocked your attraction to each other a long time ago, he just hadn't anticipated there being emotional sweetness along with it. With a sigh, Levi closed the door and went to his own bedroom.

—

Light was beaming through your curtains, your eyes fluttered open as you awoke. Luckily, your head wasn't pounding too much, you were thankful that you got minimal level hangovers. The only thing you needed was water, throat feeling scratchy, but you just felt so comfortable. Your eyes opened properly, the strain of sleep having latched your eyes shut, a saw what you were laying on. Or rather—who.

Hange was fast asleep beside you, neck bent slightly to the side, their arm was around your back and your arm around their stomach. Your stomach sank as you noticed you had been cuddling them in their sleep, as memories of last night started popping through your mind. That's embarrassing, you thought. Looking back at Hange, you took the opportunity to admire them. Freely allowing yourself to admire their long eyelashes that casted lines of shadows on their skin, that lovely nose as it dipped into their septum piercing. Plump lips pouty as they rested. They were beautiful, breathtaking in the soft light of the morning.

Picking yourself up, you quickly made your way through to the bathroom to brush your teeth, promptly returning back to your spot on the bed.

You grabbed a water bottle, it'd been wedged underneath you during your sleep, hurting your ribs a little bit. There was half of it left, that's enough for now. Attempting to be quiet as you drank, but it was obvious that the crackles of plastic were too loud for Hange to continue sleeping, lifting their head as their gaze fell on you. "Hi." you breathed out, a cautious greeting against the silence in the room.

"Hi." Hange rasped out, voice deeper, coated with sleep. You sat up, not wanting to make Hange feel uncomfortable by leaning yourself against them any longer.

"How you feeling?" they asked, using the free space around them to sit up straight and stretch out their back, cracking as it did.

"Fine.." you responded, "uh—thank you for helping me last night."

Hange's cheeks heated up, breaking contact as they cleared their throat. So did you remember? Did you remember the haunting words you whispered into the night as you fell asleep?

"Yeah—um, no need to thank me," "Well, still—thank you for staying with me."

Hange nodded, their demeanour deflating as they failed to hold eye contact with you. What could they say? That they would stay with you forever if you asked? That they would gather you in their arms and keep you comfortable any day if it meant seeing the content smile on your lips? That they wished you had meant those sacred words?

"I'm—uh—a little embarrassed," You muttered, playing with the rimmed edges on the bottlecap, "I—"

"Y'don't need to explain—I get it, you were drunk."

Gaping up at them, you let out a sigh, "That.. wasn't what I was gonna say."

Hange was slipping away from you, their usual tender sweetness towards you covered by an uncharacteristic stiffness. You had no choice but be honest with them. Hange deserves to know the truth.

"I meant it, you know? That's why I'm embarrassed."

That seemed to grab their attention, their eyes finally meeting yours. The rise and fall of their chest increasing, eyebrows quipping up, you continued.

"I've always liked you," you whispered, "I just wish it didn't come out like that, if it hadn't maybe you'd believe me."

"But, Abby—"

"Was a distraction. A bad way of keeping myself away from you," you grabbed their hand, holding it, "'cos I don't know if you've noticed, Hange, but it's always been you."

Hange's mouth split open, lips moving as they thought of a response. You took the surprise on their face and the silence on their lips as an admission that your feelings just simply weren't returned.

"I-I know it's a lot to put on you, I'm sorry— I just couldn't hold it in—"

"I feel the same way." was their direct response, cutting you off before you could take the words back. To stop them from seeping into the walls and being long forgotten.

Biting your lip, eyes staring at one another's nervously, contrasting the serenity of the bedroom's illumination. Tentatively, you reached out a hand, placing it lightly on Hange's jaw. Letting out a soft breath, Hange's eyes fell shut, deeply nudging their face closer into the caress of your hand. Eyes only opening when they felt your body budge itself on the bed, seeing how close you now were to their lips.

"Hange," you muttered, words laced with your nerves. Your stomach rippling with uncertainty, the anticipation making you shiver as you leaned closer to them, lips inches away from theirs.

"We can't," Hange whimpered, the hesitation evident, "Levi will kill me." Their voice was so quiet, scared to utter the fact that you both knew. You're off-limits. No matter how much they craved feeling your lips on theirs. That facts remained.

"I don't fucking care about Levi."

Truthfully, you've simply had enough of your older brother being an obstacle in the only relationship you wanted. Throughout the span of your life, you've yearned for Hange, there's no way you'd allow this chance to escape you.

"If we both want this," Your dangerously sweet whispers were serpentine, like a siren sinking a sailor to their certain death. Even as your heart was racing, one of your thighs moved over Hange's stomach, until eventually you were straddling over them, Hange's dainty hands trembled as they delicately hovered over your thighs, almost scared to touch you, "Why should it matter?"

Dampening your bottom lip with a quick dart of your tongue, you leaned into them again, thighs tightening around Hange's midsection as that little black dress of yours from last night rode up, exposing more of your legs. Hange gripped the skin of your plush thighs so hard, a testament to their restrained desires.

"Why should he stop you from going after what you want?"

Your lips met the skin below Hange's ear, grazing light pecks that caused goosebumps up their spine. Hange was breathing heavily beneath you, head hanging back as they bit back sighs. Their conflicting thoughts seeping in their brain, overshadowed by the skimming of your lips burning their skin.

"Fuck—"

Hange lifted their thigh, pressing it against the centre of your legs, as your teeth sunk over their neck. Sucking on the soft skin and running your tongue over. Hange couldn't hold back a little whimper at the contact, especially as your hips began rolling, rubbing your clothed centre over their propped up thigh.

"I—I want you so bad, Hange, please."

That was it. The rope of restraint snapped, the moment had reached over its boiling point as you whimpered against their neck. Hange grabbed the top of your spine, eyes meeting briefly before they melded their lips over yours.

You were whirling, hips grinding against Hange as your lips connected ardently. Feverishly slow open-mouthed kisses as you gasped into each other's touch. Years of mutually hidden cravings possessing your actions, feeling your tongues brushing desperately over into each other's mouths. Hange tugged at your ass, gripping at the skin through your clothes with a tight clasp.

Hange then separated your lips, looking up at you through their pretty eyelashes to gaze upon your state. With your eyes black with desire, they guided your hips into rhythm against their leg. Leaning their head up to kiss your neck, low, gentle pecks echoing within the room as you were trembling on top of them, chest rising and falling and your sinewy thighs trapping them underneath you. What a sight.

"Hange—"

Hearing their name slip from your lips in such a desperate manner, Hange felt like they should be locked up. The heavy sound of your low whimpers of their name causing a stir of their own burning heat to travel.

Levi was certainly going to kill them, good thing he's still asleep. Unaware of the way Hange was touching his sister in the next room. The whole thing was sinful, just reprehensible. The promise long forgotten, shoved to their back of their mind.

"You're fucking delightful, angel,"

Hange lifted themself up, back straight and chest tightly pressed to yours. Their hand rising from your ass to grip your lower back, fingers holding you in place to jut their knee against your core, their palm guiding your hips against them. Lips met again to quieten the gasps threatening to escape from within your throat. They couldn't deal with an interruption right now.

The pattern of movement in your hips faltered, grabbing Hange's wrist to place their free hand upon your clothed breast. Hange could feel your hardened nipple poking through the fabric, as their thumb rubbed over—god what they wanted to do. What they would do to see you without your layers, barren and exposed for them.

"I'm so—fuck— love seeing you like this," Your eyebrows were furrowed at their hushed words, teeth skimming over your bottom lip, it spurred them on more, "Thought about this so much, angel."

"Yeah?" You egged them on, pressing yourself harder against their knee, Hange could feel the dampness seeping through your underwear as your shaking hands reached down to unbutton Hange's jeans. They should've come off a long time ago, "I've thought about it, too—god—thought of your fingers, your mouth on me—fuck."

Unbuttoned jeans, and your dress just on as a formality, bunched up in folds around your waist. Hange lifted you up from their knee, your confession driving them over the edge. If only they knew how many times you touched yourself to the thought of them late at night.

Tugging the hem of your dress over your head, immediately catching the way your skin rippled from the chill in the air, nipples perked up and stiffened as your chest was heaving. A trail of hair leading down from your navel to your pussy, still covered by your lacy underwear, it drove Hange stupid.

"Shit— that's fucking hot," Hange rasped, words tight in their throat, desperately trying to keep their voice down.

Wasn't long before Hange was undressed, too. You made sure of that, ripping the shirt off their torso and helping to pull down their jeans. Both of you unclothed in front of each other. Your hands grazed over their breasts, admiring the tattoo beneath their collarbone, spread over the top of their chest, and their tatted forearms. Toned stomach twitching as your fingers travelled down from their chest to their abdomen.

Both of you just admired each other, before you brought your lips back together, open mouths chasing the sensation of each other's lips. You were straddling Hange again, rubbing yourself over their now bare thigh. Your dampness glistened on their skin with each roll, you felt fucking desperate.

"I'm burning for you, Hange—need your touch," You panted, losing yourself in the sight of Hange's slender barren body beneath you. Lost in the starry glaze within their eyes at you, tantalising. Hange groaned gently as they teased a finger on your slit through the fabric that was acting as the only barrier between your bodies, you twitched into their hand. Their knee wasn't enough, you craved more.

"What d'you want, angel?"

"Your mouth, fuck—please-"

The begging left you before you could help it, all you could think about was feeling Hange on you, anywhere, everywhere. Hange squeezed your thighs, laying their spine flat on the bed as they prompted you along their torso, your pussy accidentally grazing over their nipple, inches away from their mouth.

"Sit on my face, angel," Hange ordered, voice lowered and strained at the turned-on shock on your features. Hesitantly, you hovered over their waiting mouth, lacy underwear still on, trying to argue, "But I still have my—"

"ssh—just sit, baby." Hange was determined, hands rubbing over your bare skin as you shuddered on top of them. Silky thighs spread, opened just for them, like an unfurled deity, waiting patiently to be worshipped. They loved seeing you above them like this, aching for them. The slab of your stomach tensed as you tentatively placed yourself over their inviting mouth, feeling their wet tongue brush over your clothed slit.

The texture of the damp lace through their tongue pressing against your clit caused you to let out a shaky moan, a hand coming to grip the headboard, the other covering your own mouth. Hips began sliding autonomously over Hange's face as they sucked your pussy into their mouth, plump lips puckering over the fabric as their tongue swiped over in short bursts, with little pecks in between.

The top of your thighs started to burn from holding yourself up, legs shaking from the weight and the added sensation of Hange lapping underneath you, their muffled groans vibrating into your pussy. Hange's steady eyes were on you, watching. Their eyebrows pinched up as you both made contact. Their hands grabbed your hips, forcing you to rest your full weight on their face and ease the tension in your legs, you moaned into your palm as their tongue was closer to your throbbing centre. Spurred on by the intense way those amber eyes watched you whilst your mouth hung open. You ached to feel the wet muscle on you, to feel their warmth on you properly.

Hange's hand landed at your breast, kneading, your skin melted into the gaps between their fingers, the fat of your breast rolling underneath their hand. Hange's thumb teased over your nipple, spreading spurts of pleasure down your entire spine. Then Hange nipped the hem of your dampened, cotton underwear with their teeth and tugged it to the side, to expose your swollen pussy, leaking and throbbing in the cool air. A swipe of their tongue on your bare slit, lathering your sweet arousal on the tip of their tongue as they swallowed it, tasting you for the first time. They groaned out a muffled mm, into your centre, delighted by your taste. Before diving in to pleasure you properly, blissfully easing the tension that had built up in your core.

"That—hn— feels so good, Hange," your voice was muffled behind your palm, hips rocking over their face, coating their cheeks with your slick, their glasses fogging up with the honeyed arousal. You moved loose hairs from their face, fighting the wet strands as they clung to Hange's skin. "P-please don't fucking stop," you whimpered, gasping, losing control of your hips as you sat pretty on Hange's skilled tongue.

You could feel a coldness on your slit, realising Hange had a tongue piercing you never fucking noticed, the cold metal rubbing over your puffy centre. You leaned back, head hanging back at the chilled sensation, the contrast of Hange's warmth and the cold metal. Hange was struggling to breathe underneath you, clearly enjoying the light suffocation in between your thighs, eyes rolling back as their fingers harshly dug into your ass.

Your fingers travelled down Hange's stomach, reaching back behind you—feeling their abdomen twitch into your hand. Reaching Hange's centre, you rubbed your middle and index finger over their own swollen clit. Moaning as you felt how wet they were, their arousal matching yours in its desperation, Hange's legs spread out to give you better access. Aching for you as you ached for them.

Hange groaned weakly into your centre, lost in the scent, sight and taste of you as you played with their pussy above them, wanting to give them back some of the delectable pleasure they were giving you. Your perked up breasts were bouncing above them with the weight of gravity and the movement of your arm behind you, specks of sweat dripping down your stomach as you started losing rhythm in your hips, quickening up your rocking on their tongue, sometimes their nose would stroke over your clit, driving you further over the edge.

"Ah—fuck, 'm gonna cum," Your voice reached a higher pitch, you bit the back of your hand to stop yourself to shouting, "'m so fuckin' close, Han—gonna cum—fuuck."

Your hips twitched on Hange's face, they eagerly lapped up your arousal as it leaked from your throbbing hole, your release dripping down Hange's chin as they swallowed up what they could, like they were starved. Groaning happily beneath you as your fingers sped up against their clit.

You lifted your pelvis from their face, allowing them to breathe as you turned yourself over to focus on Hange. You placed yourself in between their welcoming, spread legs as they shook against your fingers.

"Fuck—angel.." Hange sighed, eyes closed as your fingers easily slipped inside them, lubricated by their own slick since you came on their tongue. They had been uncomfortably wet ages ago, but they were truly dripping now. Their own hips chased after your hand wretchedly as you curled three fingers against their cervix, rubbing over the squishy spot that had Hange throwing their head into the pillow. Hiding their face and mouth with their tatted wrist, their pelvis grinding into your hand whilst their body rocked from the repeated movements.

You didn't like their face hidden away, obscured by their wrist, so you pulled at it with your free hand, tugging it down until it was trapped on top of their stomach, held down. Hange was crying out, not having a way to cover their face from being restrained, forcing them to expose their expressions as you worked your fingers diligently inside them.

"Shi—ah—keep going, fuck, please—just like that,"

In perfect circumstances, you'd have loved to hear Hange coming undone loudly for you, but right now you needed them to be more quiet, Levi was right in the next room. So, trapping their arm with your chest, you brought your fingers up to their mouth, rubbing over their bottom lip until they split open to suck in your fingers. Their sounds enveloped by your fingers in their mouth, fuck, the sight was heavenly. Your head dropped down, weakly faltering at the scene in front of you.

Hange's arm pushed your head down, moving you forcibly until your face was in front of their heat. The corner of your lips tilted into a self-satisfied smirk as you understood what they were asking of you.

"Want my mouth on you, hm?" you teased, fingers still curling into them as Hange hummed, their head feebly nodding, mouth full of your fingers. Chuckling, you lowered your head, swiping your tongue up their slit, revelling in the minute twitches of Hange's hips. The feeling of your tongue lewdly slurping up their arousal plus your fingers stretching their tight walls in a steady motion, Hange was close to oblivion. Breathlessly gaping down to watch you as you worked hard to please. The deity was in between their thighs, blithely moving your tongue down their pulsing centre.

Their hips faltered, Hange's face stiffening as their eyes rolled back, they were in your heavenly trap— how could they ever get out?

"G'na cum for me, Hange?" you mumbled, pussydrunk as Hange's abdomen tightened, their thighs taut against your head, dragging you impossibly closer. You whined into their core as Hange released the pressure of their climax into your mouth.

You popped your other fingers out of Hange's mouth, spreading their saliva around their jaw as they quivered, riding out their saccharine release.

"Fuuck," Hange's whimper was soft, spent, tired out from how hard they came. You sighed as you slipped your fingers out, lapping your digits dry of the droplets of their arousal.

"That's it," you soothed, tranquillising them as you brought your lips up to theirs, hands on their jaw as your naked chests rubbed against each other. Hange looked up at you, their eyes half-lidded as they caught their breath, both of you gazing at each other with unadulterated love in your eyes.

Feeling relatively rejuvenated, Hange's fingers trailed down to the curve of your ass, massaging the skin under your underwear, before ripping it down your thighs. They felt insatiable. Wanted this haze to last as long as possible. You yelped sharply, thinking they were too tired to continue, confused as Hange bent you over, your knees folded on the bed and your ass up.

Hange got into place behind you, caressing down your dimpled spine as their leg nudged you to spread your thighs apart. They ghosted kisses on your skin, hands rubbing over your lower body as they placed a knee in between your legs, teasing your entrance with two fingers.

"Oh, f-fuck," you gasped, head falling down into the mattress to silence yourself as Hange plunged two fingers inside you. There was no need for anymore teasing, you were absolutely dripping. Hange rocked their fingers deep into your cervix, fingertips reaching the back of your walls as your spine curved to let them in even further. A hand met your hip, squeezing the skin as they swung your hips to grind over their knee, stroking your clit as their pretty fingers fucked into you.

Hange thrust their own hips in rhythm with their fingers, imagining that they were fucking you with their strap as a proxy instead of their hands. Getting lost in their own imagination as the skin on your ass recoiled with each hit, you throwing your hips back to meet their thrusts.

"Shit—Hange," you whined, muffling into the blankets as you panted, feeling them move inside you as overstimulation struck. Your clit was so sensitive as it rubbed against their knee. Reaching your arm back, hand flailing for them to grab your hand, craving that extra connection. Hange's hand encompassed your own, gripping it as they didn't relent their movements, holding their chest against your back.

"Fuck, angel—I fuckin' love you," Hange muttered, losing grip on reality and the control over their mouth, not realising what they had just spoken into the universe. You clenched at Hange's words, tight walls sucking in their fingers as you trembled.

"Hange—hn, I love you, fuck,"

"Could be in this pussy forever, 's just fuckin' perfect," Hange drawled, more kisses at the back of your neck and you lost it. Mouth hanging open, you squirted all over the bed and Hange's knee, forcing out their fingers with a pop.

You stilled underneath them, catching your breath back as Hange kissed you through it. Turning your body to the side, in a daze, you met eyes. Truly fucked out.

Hange fell beside you, caressing your sides as you snuggled into their chest.

"Think we were too loud?"

"Hope not," you muttered, "He's a heavy sleeper," Hange chuckled at your answer. They hadn't quite come to the realisation that they had just fucked their best friend's sister into next week, breaking the one promise Levi ever held Hange to, not wanting to think about the consequences.

"You said you loved me," you whispered hesitantly, eyes closing against their heaving chest. A little fearful of bringing it up in case it was just a heat of the moment thing, but since they said it, you couldn't stop thinking about it.

Hange stilled, feeling embarrassed that they uttered something like that during sex, they wouldn't have been as embarrassed about it if it wasn't true.

"I mean—I.. didn't lie,"

"You love me?" You looked up, it was hard to miss the way your doe eyes lightened up, specks of hope glimmering in them. Just like that, Hange's embarrassment dissipated.

"Yes, angel, I've loved you for a while," Hange moved a strand of your hair behind your ear, placing a kiss on your forehead. Biting your lip, you tried to withhold the smile that threatened to break out, failing miserably.

"I, I love you, too, Hange."

—

A week had passed, and Levi was none the wiser to the debauchery that took place in your bedroom that morning. Good, you thought, you weren't ready to tell him yet. You and Hange were in a good place, you didn't want Levi finding out and ruining everything.

Needless to say, you guys had begun secretly seeing each other. Hurried, covert kisses between you whenever he left the room. You couldn't help it, you were addicted, taking every chance you got to feel Hange against you. It'd been years waiting for this, there was no way you could go without it now. It wasn't like you could get much time by yourselves, anyway, you had to take what you could get and be grateful for it.

Dating Hange changed pretty much everything about your relationship, you were so much more comfortable around each other. That high-strung sexual tension that hung over both of you over the last few years had subsided, leaving space for an actual relationship to form where you could talk in comfort, behaving more normally around each other. That wasn't to say you didn't still want to fuck Hange's brains out, you just hadn't had a chance since that day, Levi was always hovering. You'd say he was more suspicious than usual, but why?

If he had heard anything that day, neither of you would be alive to tell the tale. He would've walked right in and killed you both on the spot. You felt like you'd been pretty inconspicuous, too, not saying anything out of the ordinary to Hange and not being touchy in front of him. Perhaps you may have been hanging around them more than usual, but would that be so suspicious?

Surely not, right?

You were craving some more alone time with Hange, wishing Levi would fuck off somewhere and leave you to it. You'd be ready to jump their bones at any given moment.

So when Levi left to go buy groceries for tonight's Hange was supposed to fixing something that had fucked up on their console. Hange's good at fixing things, often being tasked with doing so around the house. Trying to mask your excitement, not waiting to bait yourself out— you went up to your room. Waitied until Levi had got in his car and drove off before you messaged Hange to come upstairs.

Within seconds, Hange entered your room, giggling nervously as you pushed them up against the bedroom door, locking your lips on theirs.

"Hello to you, too," Hange chuckled, their slender hands grasping the sides of your head, getting the hint, as you slipped your tongue into their mouth. Hange moaning into the kiss as you slipped their shirt off, exposing their torso so you could bend your head and pop their nipple into your mouth. Rolling your tongue over the peak as Hange tightened their grip on you.

"Don't have much time, need you—now." you ordered, grabbing a hold of Hange's belt loops and dragging your bodies to the bed. Hange straddled over you as you made out in comfort, not worrying about volume for once. Hange unbuttoned your jeans, pulling them down to your ankles as you whimpered sweetly against their lips. The kiss was fiery, both feeling pent up and looking for mutual release, craving each other so badly. No more hesitation unlike the first time.

You unbuttoned your shirt, leaving it hanging open revealing your stomach and breasts, your hands coming to massage your own nipples as Hange gaped down at you, eyes darkening.

"I have something for you," you panted, eyes lidded as you smirked impishly, a mischievous glint in your eyes that intrigued Hange. You reached down below the bed, opening a box and pulling out a long, thick strap, nibbling on your lower lip as Hange stared incredulously at the toy in your hand.

"Don't you wanna fuck me with it, Hange?" the tone of your voice was too enticing, too seductive as you rubbed your fingers over the silicone. Hange tensed up, watching you tease them with it before passing it into their clasp. Trying to ignore the deep stir swirling in their core, with illicit images of you bouncing on their strap swirling around at the forefront of their mind. Hange rushed to prop it over their legs, tightening the straps around their hips and upper thighs.

"You're gonna be the death of me, angel," Hanged sighed, hands clutching your pillowy thighs. They could feel their pulse thumping in their ears with desire, eager to use the new toy on you. Not unlike you, who'd been itching to show it to your partner as soon as you got it.

"Couldn't sleep last night, Hange, couldn't stop thinking of you fucking me with it," you whined, as Hange's fingers teased your clit with soft touches, lips tilting up at your lewd words.

"That right, angel?" you nodded, "Been touching yourself thinking about it?"

"Fuck, yes.. tried to finger myself to get off, but t'wasn't the same," you huffed, feeling yourself get drenched by your own words, "can't reach as deep as you,"

Hange groaned, sucking your nipple into their mouth as they stroked your clit. You were throbbing, the last few days of fantasising left you feeling needy as fuck. Hange slid two fingers into your slick entrance, letting out a deep moan at how wet you were, at the way your pussy just sucked them right in like they were always meant to be there.

Your eyes fell shut as Hange scissored their fingers against your squishy walls, savouring the stretch to prepare you for the strap. Raising your hand to your mouth, you licked a stripe up your palm and lowered your hand to rub the silicone as it hung from Hange's hips. Hange's head fell down, watching dumbly as you rubbed your hand over it as if it were Hange's actual flesh. You'd swear they could actually feel it, too, the way their mouth split open and their breaths grew heavy. The way it provoked them to remove their fingers and edge the silicone tip over your folds, spreading your own slick all over your pulsing pussy.

"Hange—just put it in, please," You tried to push against it, feeling how Hange was separating your folds apart to lubricate the tip, "'ve been so good,"

Hange chuckled as they saw how ruined you were without them even doing anything. Slowly, they pushed the strap through your entrance, "You have been so good, baby," they pushed up until it were completely buried inside you.

"'n you're g'na take me so well, aren't you, angel?", you were filled to the brim, tears rimming your eyes as you rutted your hips into Hange's, "G'na take every single inch of me, aren't you?"

"Fuck—fuck, yes, Hange," you cried out, not withholding the volume of your moans as Hange began to thrust the silicone deep inside you, hitting the sensitive spot at the very back, "'Y're so fucking deep, f-feels so damn good,"

Hange grabbed your hips, using it as a stabiliser to thrust the strap in and out, your breasts bouncing as your body rocked, whimpering as the familiar ball in your abdomen tightened. Hange stared down at where the silicone disappeared inside your puffed folds, their expressions contorting when it'd come out soaked, with a little white ring of your cum forming around the base.

"Look so fucking good like this, all filled up, shit—and all mine," Hange rasped, fingers left marks on your legs as they swung the silicone deeper inside you. They bent down to lick your nipple, teeth latching around the pebbled peak as your back arched into them.

"All yours—ngh—don't fucking stop," Your arms wrapped around Hange's neck, keeping them close to your body as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Your legs slackened around their waist, short nails scratching at Hange's back as the pressure hitting against your cervix got overwhelming.

"W'na see you come all over my cock, fuck,"

The pressure tightened and tightened until your legs were squeezing around Hange, pulling them into you as you released, salacious whines slipping from your pretty lips. Hange moaned with you, sated that they could finally indulge in the libertine noises rolling off your tongue.

"That's it, fuckin' soak it," they muttered, "that's a good girl,"

Hange talked you through it as you came, gushing your slick all over their strap, effectively drenching your lower bodies. They pulled the silicone from your walls, the strap was lathered in your slick.

Your thighs trembled, coming down from your high, as Hange brought the strap to your lips, nudging your mouth open to lick it clean. You lapped up your own mess, Hange watching you intently whilst your tongue skimmed over the plastic. That awoke something in them, something they'd definitely mention next time, you already looked too spent.

Hange affectionally gave you kisses all over your face, praising you for being so good, that you took them so, so well.

"Y'sound divine when you come for me," they mumbled against your neck, those pretty sounds would be imprinted in their brain forever.

"Hange..." you covered your eyes, embarrassed at how loud you had been.

"No point being shy now, my love."

"Ugh," you chuckled, "We should get cleaned up,"

Hange got up and grabbed a towel from your wardrobe, drying your inner thighs off and wherever else you'd leaked your own slick on, before drying their own legs. You both re-clothed yourselves, freshening up and fixing hairstyles to look as if nothing happened. Levi shouldn't be back yet, anyway, you were in the clear for now.

Making your way downstairs, Hange trailing behind you on the stairs, you laughed amongst yourselves. However, that laughter died out immediately as you spotted Levi stood in your living room with his arms crossed, and an unreadable expression on his face.

The atmosphere very suddenly changed, the smile on your face dropped and Hange averted their eyes from their best friend, unable to look him in the eye, putting their hands into their pockets. The shamed guilt was written all over their face.

"Uh—" you tried breaking the silence, but the words got caught in your throat, Levi's glare was too haunting. There was no way in hell he didn't just hear you two fucking, and watched silently as you and Hange ignorantly made your blissful way downstairs. Your heart dropped, tears brimming your eyes as you waited for him to speak. Knowing that the peaceful bubble you and Hange had been in was about to be nastily ripped open.

"Well?" He finally spoke, eyes landing between you and Hange expectantly, "You got nothing to say?"

That last part was targeted especially towards Hange, who lifted their head to look at their best friend for the first time since both came down.

"Levi, I-I'm sorry—" Hange was trying so hard not to cry, "I didn't mean to break the promise, I'm sorry, it just—"

"Levi, stop this madness—we're both adults and I love Hange. You don't need to make them grovel and feel like shit," You bit out, sure, you felt a little bad, but this was way over the top. You weren't doing anything wrong. Neither was Hange.

"You love Hange?" He spat out, face tensing.

"Fuck's sake, yes! And for the record, the feeling is mutual, okay, we're dating— it's not like we're just fucking around for the hell of it."

"I see,"

"I know the promise means a lot to you, Lev," Hange stepped a little closer to you, and your gaze softened as they braved out a little smile at you, "But.. this is different,"

Levi stared at the both of you, almost apathetic. He looked down and sighed, tutting, "I knew this was gonna fucking happen,"

"Levi—"

"Stop, I'm... not angry." He rubbed two fingers over his nose bridge, "It's just a little weird, seeing it. Hearing it is a different matter, I'm gonna need fucking therapy for that,"

Hange cheeks burned, he could've just omitted the fact that he heard it, we all know he did, was voicing it out loud necessary?

"You're not mad?"

"I'm annoyed that you both lied to me, but I get it," he shrugged, "Just.. please be quiet from now on? And for the love of god if you have any arguments—don't come to me, I really don't wanna know."

—

#umm ok #this is probably my longest one shot #im weirdly proud of it?#i also find it v hot ngl 😭😭#enjoy #cos ik i did #lesbian #hange zoe x reader #hanji zoe x reader #hange zoe #hanji zoe #attack on titan smut #hange zoe x reader smut #lesbian smut #attack on titan #requested

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ambrosiagoldfish · 1 year ago

Note

Adam x third spouse part 3 I’m begging pookie ❤️

like a time skip to when Charlie appeared and proposed the idea

Benifit of the doubt Pt.4

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Warnings: General Adam TW’s, a little bit sad for a moment but it’s ok. Gn! Reader! honestly that’s about it I think?? Wow this is the first time it’s been this short in this series.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Request Box: Open

Word Count: 4617~

A/n: So… it’s been almost 2 months… whoops. In all seriousness though I’m sorry it’s been so long. I’ve just not been in the mood to write and a lot of stuff has been happening (which is finally over) and I’m glad I could finally post this. I was also, if I’m honest, nervous to post this, cause I’m not sure if everyone’s ready for the direction of the story. But I have made it clear that I wanted to do a time skip to the show at somepoint and decided to do it now! If you enjoy this, please let me know cause I’m really nervous about (Not my words of affirmation love language coming out-) ALSO to the requester, I know you said part 3, but I used it for part 4. I got your request as I was making part 3 soooo my bad. Hope you don’t mind tho <3 this will be the last part before the angsty finale (and maybe an epilogue)

Reblogs are always appreciated!

Anyways this was NOT beta read unfortunately, I tried to get as many errors out during the writing process so hopefully it’s fine. Also, there’s probably some words I might have wanted to italicize or make bold that aren’t, but I’m too tired to care honestly.

Tags: @tired-of-life-86 @nervoussystemss @qopia @lovelyemily @hcneyiced @v3r41ynn @ghostdoodlen @nxptvne-13 @ximenavc-che @edgyfluff @ericityyy @diffidentphantom @faimmm @slasher-whore69 @1-randomized @ozzersauce @fanlovedlt @alientee (if I forgot someone or you want to be added just tell me !!)

Days turned to weeks, to months, to years. Until eventually an eon had passed. An entirety filled to the brim with an indescribable happiness and love, threatening to spill over at any given moment. You loved Adam and Adam loved you.

To say it was all happiness would be a lie, there were some moments of sadness and pain, but all relationships were like that, even ones that lasted for eternity. You both always bounced back, apologize and moved on with a stronger bond than before. And you loved every second of it.

A lot has changed in these last few eons. Adam formed a band and is now the most popular guitarist in all of heaven. You both made new friends, some got into heaven while others were made there. Emily was one of these people to you, she looked up to you for being older than her. You’ve existed for almost all of human existence so, of course she’d look up to you.

Adam had also made new friends, his band members, some officials in heaven, but someone he’s grown close to recently was Lute. You're really happy about his friendship with Lute. She seems like a strong and loyal friend, someone that can keep him grounded while still encouraging him to be more himself. Overall, you really liked her.

How they became friends though is something… less tasteful for you. All the way back when Heaven and Hell had their first meeting on what to do with the surplus of sinners in hell causing an uprising. Neither side came to an agreement in the end, you do feel partially to blame for that, but you still stand by what you did.

You never returned to any of the follow up meetings

But Adam did, surprisingly to you. In the end, you were called to talk with Sera and Adam. You were told of the agreement between Heaven and Hell, about the yearly “cleanse” that Adam and his “Exorcists” would have to commit. At first you were shocked, sure, you didn’t have the best experience with sinners and especially with the rulers of hell, but was death really necessary? You didn’t know what to say, and Adam clearly saw this.

“Babe, you alright?” He puts his hand on your shoulder rubbing his thumb in circles. You place your hand on his.

“Yeah it’s just a lot to take in. Are we sure it has to be done… that way?”

Sera looked down in pain “they’re… uprising and are becoming to much of a threat to heaven.”

You sighed as Adam took you in his arms. Adam was fully aware that you don’t share the same sentiment towards sinners as he does. His hatred towards the unholy souls down in hell was brought about by events that you simply cannot understand. Which he is thankful for, he never would want you to experience what he did.

“If there isn’t anything else we can do then… I guess we have no choice. But I don’t want to… kill anyone, even if they are sinners.”

Adam holds you closer “You won’t have to,” you smile at him, the now familiar flickering of his LED mask meeting your gaze before softly frown “you ok?”

You nod, “yeah, just…I wish there was another way.”

That was it. Adam would take his exorcists down to hell to kill as many sinners as they could each year. Adam knew you didn’t want him to talk about it , he kept it as separate as he could from your life. You did have to attend meetings regarding it, as one of the very few people to know about it, that was your duty.

You were fine with having that part of the job. You weren't sure if you could kill someone, sinner or not. So, for the countless years to follow, you played your part with every new extermination, attending meetings to deal with the repercussions of each cleanse.

Adam would also have to attend the occasional meeting. Which is exactly what today was. Sera had called you both in to talk.

“Thank you both for coming. I have to inform you that you will be attending a meeting tomorrow.”

Adam groaned “What! Again? This is like the 4th fuckin’ one this week! Ugh fine! Where is it this time? halo city? Cherub towne” Adam’s voice mocked the locations you’ve both been sent to countless times with a high pitched voice. Even you have to admit that the meetings could drag a bit.

Sera's face turned into a slight grimace as she looks away from you both, she sighs and continues “The meeting will be in… hell.”

“What!” Both your voices raise in shock

“Sera, you know I don’t want to go down there again!”

“Why can’t you just send the other fucking dipshits who know about-“ Adam crossed his arms defiantly

“Stop,” Sera raises her hand toward you both “no one wants to go there, and I know you both especially don’t.” She pauses “But you both are the only available angels who know of the cleanse that aren't busy. Please… I understand your disdain but heaven’s business comes first.”

“Who are we even gonna be talking to -Wait a damn minute- Don’t fucking tell me we have to talk to him.”

“I'm sorry…” You all sat in silence for a moment before Sera begins to speak again, “But you both won’t have to worry about physically being there, we have prepared holograms for you, so neither of you would be in any danger.”

“I'll have an Angel escort you to the ‘meeting’ room tomorrow, please, get some rest. I’m sure you both have had a long day.”

With that, you and Adam went home, you were definitely not feeling well about the meeting, but the fact you wouldn’t actually be there calms your nerves a bit. You had to be a little honest with yourself, hell wasn’t really the issue for you, it was more so the people. Lucifer for one, that made you feel uneasy.

The next morning, you and Adam got ready, you had to motivate him a little. He was clearly not excited for this meeting like you. The entire way there he held you close, even though nothing could have hurt you it made him feel better knowing how close you were.

On the way there, you also got Adam some ribs, his favorite. You thought it would help his nerves a bit. Turns out, Lute was the one Sera assigned to escort you both there. That also made you both a little calmer knowing a mutual friend would be there.

The three of you waited in the ‘meeting’ room for a while, about an hour. At first you thought the meeting might had been canceled or moved and you just weren't told. But then, Lute walked up to you both.

“Sir! The Seraphim has told me to inform you that there’s been a change in plans!”

“What? The fucks that mean?” Adam said stuffing a rib into his LED mouth

“Lucifer won’t be attending the meeting, instead… his Daughter will be here in his stead.” Lute’s mask showed a continuous frown and stern expression as she spoke.

“Daughter?” Your voice shook a little. This was news to you, as long as you’ve existed you had never heard he had a daughter while in hell. You look over to Adam to see His LED eyes were wide in shock but his mask turned into a smile as he sighed.

“Phew boy, we sure dodged a big ass bullet, huh Sweetcheeks?” He laughed as his arm pulled you closer. The whole thing caused you to join in. Suddenly your nerves felt a lot better than before.

“When should she be arriving, Lute?”

“Within the hour.”

Adam scarfed down another plate of ribs as you all wait for the “princess of hell” to arrive. The entire time you just had to wonder what kind of person she’d be. The daughter of Lucifer and Lilith. The more you thought about it, the more bizarre it seemed.

But suddenly your thoughts were interrupted by the sliding doors opening to the meeting room and a girl steps in, asking if anyone is there.

“She can’t see us?”

“Yeah, Sera gave me a long ass lector on how this stuff works before we got here. Let’s see here…” Adam pushes a button causing a click to sound out as he says “Sup!”

The girl jumps back and falls to the floor, shocked by Adam’s sudden appearance in the room. She introduces herself as Charlie. Adam offers her to shake his hand, only for it to go through.

“Ha! I fuckin’ got you! Did you fucking see that? Good shit.”

You let out a slight laugh, as you sit and watch the meeting happen. Well, you say “meeting” but nothing about it seemed very professional. Adam for the last hour (you honestly wasn’t sure at this point) had been talking about the most random of things.

You or Lute occasionally shakening your head yes or no while listening to him, while Charlie seemed quite tired already. Not that you could blame her, people who weren’t used to Adam’s banter definitely weren’t cut out for it. But You love every word that comes out of his mouth.

Eventually Adam decides that it’s time to get into what you all came here for. Pulling out a bunch of papers, Charlie begins explaining her solution to hell’s overpopulation. You were only really half listening at first, at least before she mentioned that her solution could stop the extermination which peaked your interest.

She explains her “Hazbin Hotel” and its purpose to rehabilitate sinners, you wanted to hear more of it but Adam cut her off.

The meeting didn’t really go that well, At least for Charlie. But the whole thing left quite the impression on you. The idea of ending the extermination was stuck in your head for so long, and now you had someone who had an alternative.

“Adam, are you sure that it couldn’t have worked?”

Adam looks at you in surprise “What? Do you think that shitshow could have actually worked?” He laughed as he placed a hand on your back. “Don’t even pay it any mind, alright Babe?”

“I know, it’s just… you know I don't like the extermination. So another way to lessen the population of hell should at least be looked into.” Your voice was soft enough to barely hear.

Adam’s gaze softened but he didn’t say another word, only wrapping his wing around you pulling you closer. You lean towards him, snuggling into his soft robe. No matter how much you wanted to ignore it, you couldn’t. You needed to do something, anything.

So that night, after Adam fell asleep, you asked to talk with Sera. Leaving a note for Adam saying you went to buy something just in case he woke up.

“What is troubling you?” Sera’s voice was clear and concise.

You looked toward the ground, your nerves feeling tighter than ever, as you struggled with how to put your words together. “You're aware of all that happened in the meeting with Lucifer’s Daughter, right?”

Sera nods her head “of course, all meetings are documented about as they happen.” She tilts her head slightly “What about it?”

“Well!” You steel yourself before continuing “I would like permission to observe Charlie Morningstar’s ‘Hazbin Hotel’”

Sera’s eyes widen, breaking her calm demeanor before giving a firm “No”

“But-“

“It’s too dangerous for you to be there, Adam wouldn’t want that anyways”

“He would listen if it was an order from you!” Your eyes felt watery but you continued “Please Sera… I know you don’t want the extermination to continue. Just let me do this!”

Sera looked away from you, her feelings evident on her face, any mask now down. ‘Just a little more’ you thought

“Sera, I promise you, I’ll be careful! We don’t even have to fully support them yet, just let me observe them. It would be devastating if so many souls parish if we failed to seek all options!” You beg

Sera sighed, shakingly “…I’ll see what I can do.”

Your eyes gleamed up at the tall woman “Sera, thank you, thank you!” You wanted to hug her but out of courtesy, you advised against it.

Sera tells you that she can’t guarantee anything but she will try as she sends you home to rest.

A few days past after that and you haven’t heard anything from Sera. It was a little worrying and felt like a bad sign to you. That was, until you were informed by Sera that your request was accepted!

“But.” Sera stops you before you can celebrate “You're only there to keep track of the progress and to make sure nothing is happening under our noses” You nod your head in understanding

“Also…” she pauses “If anything involving this hotel happens, you will have to take full responsibility, understood?”

You nod again “yes I understand. Have you… told Adam yet?”

She shakes her head

“Ok… can you… not tell him it was my idea, please. I don’t think he’d agree if he knew.”

Sera sighs before nodding her head “Very well, I’ll tell him after you leave”

“Thank you.”

You return home, when you got back Adam was already gone, Sera must have already called him to the office. You dreaded when he got back. You didn’t want to see him upset, it hurt you to know how worried he was for you.

A few hours later, Adam comes through the door in a panic. He stomps up to you and pulls you into a warm and intense embrace.

“Don’t go down there. I need you here with me” his voice hitches as his wings wrap around you both, curling you both into a warm and feathery ball.

“Adam…” you paused, was this really the best thing to do? No, It had to be. If this goes well, not only will the extermination stop but Adam wouldn’t have to go down to hell ever again.

“Adam, you know I can’t go against Sera’s orders.” You kiss his cheek “and I won’t be gone forever, I’m only supposed to be there till the next cleanse. Not to mention, I’ll always come back to see you.”

Adam grumbled a little “I know, I just… don’t like you being in the same place that bastard is, and in his brat’s stupid hotel! ”

You laugh softly “Adam…” grabbing his hand, you put yours in it, showing off the gold ring on your finger “I’ll never forget my promise. You know that, right?”

Adam looks at the ring, the gold wrapped around your finger with a perfectly snug fit. Everytime he looked at it was just a reminder of your love for him. That promise was something he could never forget. He slowly raises your hand to his LED mask, kissing the back of it. “Of course not.”

“Good. I promise I’ll be fine, ok?”

He nods. Hand in hand, you slowly lead you both to the bed. The both of you lay next to each other, your bodies linked together like knots. You slwoly remove his helmet from his head, laying it on the nightstand.

Your hands move up his body before landing on his face, cupping his cheeks before pulling him to a kiss before snuggling into his chest.

Finally it was Time for you to leave. Sera allowed you to create portals back to heaven in case anything happened and you were in need of assistance. Adam walked you to the front gate.

“Ok, do you have everything? You didn’t forget that fucking angelic dagger I had Lute get for you right-“

You shush him “Adam, I told you I’ll be fine!”

He’s sighs “Damn it- I know that but just make sure to text me while your there ok-

You kiss him deeply “Adam. I know, you’ve told me a hundred times.” You smile as you cup his face “I love you”

He sighs “Love you too Sweetcheeks”

With one final kiss, you give Adam a tight hug before waving goodbye as you went through the flaming portal. As you went through, you take a second to look at your surroundings. In front of you was a tall building. You take a few steps back to see LED lights of a sign flashing the words ‘Hazbin Hotel’

You let out a sigh of relief. You had been a tad bit worried you’d spawn somewhere random and you’d have to find the building yourself. But it seems heaven at least spared you of that.

The red skies of hell were quite different from the pristine blue ones of heaven. Even though you just got here, you could already hear the sounds of screams and explosions in the distance. How welcoming.

You steel yourself and with three hard knocks to the door, you wait for someone to open it. Muffled Scurrying sounds of footsteps approach the door before it creaks open revealing the young blond woman in the doorframe, Charlie Morningstar.

“Hi! I’m-“

The door is slammed shut, Before opening again

“Be not afraid-“

It shuts again…

Well, this may be a bit harder than you initially anticipated. You go to knock again only for it to open once more. This time, the door doesn’t close again, instead the girl mutters a quick “Hi” before going quiet.

“Hello! I didn’t mean to scare you!” You give a small laugh before continuing “I believe we met a couple days ago?” You bring your hand towards her for a shake, to which she reciprocates.

“During the meeting with.. Adam? Right?” She grimaced when she mentioned Adam, which you decided to ignore, you simply smiled and nodded. ”but I don’t believe I caught your name?”

You tell her about yourself, about how your there to stay and monitor any progress the hotel may have. You made sure to pronounce ‘may.’ While you were hoping for this idea to show some kind of positive results, even you weren’t sure if it’d would work.

“Charlie? who’s at the door- WhatHolyShit-“ a woman with a red X over her eye suddenly shouts in surprise. You look over at her, She looked very familiar…

“Wait, you are-“

“Vaggie! Charlie’s sinner girlfriend! And you are?!” The woman known as Vaggie, highlighted the word sinner while performing a “be quiet” gesture with her hand. Your eyes widen a little at the ex-Angel in front of you but you simply smile a nod “I’m Y/n, I don’t believe we’ve met, yes?”

Look, lying is the last thing you’d want to do as a citizen of heaven but you figured that it would be fine if it was to protect someone. Vaggie nodded, her face scrunched up in a tense look.

“You feeling ok Vaggie? You’re looking a little… red?”

“I’m fine! *ahem*, Hun, how about you give them a tour of the hotel.”

Charlie gasped “Yes that's perfect, you may as well get acquainted with everyone if you’re going to be here more often!”

Charlie ran off, telling you “this way! This way!” Over and over. Before you went to follow her, you leaned toward Vaggie and said a quick “Relax, I won’t tell anyone.”

She lets out a sigh before muttering “Thank you”

You both follow Charlie as she shows you the various rooms in the hotel before leading you back to the hotel’s lobby and lounge area.

“Hey! Hello everyone!” Charlie’s voice picked up a little “I’d like to introduce you to our uh… new staff member?” You nod in agreement with the title. The room in front of you was shrouded in looks of both horror and amazement.

“What the hell’s an angel doin’ here?” A lanky spider demon spoke up first

“It’sss an ambush! seek Cover!!” The Snake demon shouted, seemingly grabbing an army helmet from thin air before taking a deep dive behind the couch.

“No Pentious-” She sighs “they’re here to monitor the hotel! Heaven sent them to scout any potential progress the hotel will have”

“It’s nice to meet you all” you look at the people in front of you, to say it was a colorful cast would be an understatement.

“These two are our current tenants of the hotel! Angel dust and Sir Pentious!”

The snake slithered slowly from behind the couch up to you, while the Spider demon remained rested on the couch

“Oh… *ahem* Excuse me dear! I am Sir. Pentious! Formally known as ‘the Architect of destruction’!” He laughs, a slight hiss sounding in his voice.

He offers a handshake which you accept. To which you immediately regret. ‘ Slimey’ you thought, before wiping your, now wet hand on your clothes.

The spider demon, who you now know as Angel Dust, just gives a wave with one of his 4 arms.

“And-“ Charlie extends the word as she quickly walk to a bar by the entrance “this is the recreational area, run by our Bartender, Husk!”

The winged bartender seemed entirely uninterested in your presence or even Charlie’s. The most you got was a small glance before he takes a swig of his alcohol and walks off.

“He’s not the most… social guy in hell” she awkwardly laughs before moving on to the next person. “And this is Nifty, our one and only maid at the hotel! Nifty say hi.”

The short woman scurried moved around you, her eye quickly looking at every every nook and cranny of you as she moved. She made numerous attempts to touch and grab various things on you, your clothes, wings, and eventually she tried to climb up you to get to your halo. That’s when you finally grabbed her in place “you're a… fast one, huh? Nice to meet you!”

“And last but not least! This is Alastor, the hotel’s executive producer and our first -and only- overlord sponsor!”

Immediately, you could tell there was something off about Alastor. The entire aura he gave off was as if he was restraining something completely and utterly ungodly. The static that surrounded him was just one of many whispers you could hear from his soul.

“Hello! It’s quite a pleasure to meet someone of your… holy status!” He offers a hand to which you, hesitantly, shake. “And what do we owe the pleasure for your service?”

“They’re going to be here to keep track of the progress of the hotel…” Charlie paused “you know I’m starting to sound like a broken record- here, it’s late, how about we all get some sleep and we can talk about it in the morning!”

“Fine by me, I am waaay too sober to be having social interaction this late” Angel picks himself up and stretches “I’m gonna hit the hay”

“Here I’ll show you to your room!” Charlie smiles “We -obviously- didn’t have time to make your own so I hope you don’t mind using one of the guest rooms” she laughs

She and Vaggie walks you to your new room before leaving you be, The room was nothing more than just your average hotel room. Of course it did have its differences, a multitude of… eyes seem to be on the wall, staring at you. Well, that’s not the least alarming.

You place your stuff down and begin unpacking, you mostly just brought the basics. Clothes, hygiene stuff, your phone, and, most importantly, a framed photo of Adam.

You sat the photo on your nightstand, angling it just right so that it would always be visible to you. As you do so, you think about the memory the photo brings, you took it on one of the first dates you went on with Adam. It was a relatively tame date, you and Adam, having a picnic by a lake at night. You brought candles so you both weren’t completely in the dark, and you just loved the way he looked, his golden eyes watching the water. The dim candle light illuminating his face with a warm golden shade. Adam hates photos of him with his mask off but… You just had to keep that moment in time forever.

*Ding* *Ding* *Ding*

Speak of the- well, you know the rest. The bright light from the phone comes with the notification sound displaying Adam in bold letters. You smile as you read his messages.

Dixkmaster69

Heyy Sweetcheeks, it’s been a bit since you left

You there??

Fucking answer

You let out a small laugh at Adam’s barrage of messages. He’s not used to you being away from him for more than a day, huh? Not that you could blame him, this is honestly nothing compared to how you feel each year he has to do the extermination.

Sweetcheeks

Hey love

Everything’s fine, I’m ok.

Aside from not having you with me :’(

Dixkmaster69

Fucking finally

You know you don’t have to do this

If I bitch enough to Sera I can get you back by tomorrow

Sweetcheeks

Please don’t, Sera already has enough on her plate.

I promise I’m going to be fine

I’ll be back before you know it.

Dixkmaster69

I know

This shit just worries me

Gonna miss hearing your sexy ass voice at night too ;)

You blush at the message before sighing. Whenever you or Adam approached a topic that made him uncomfortable, he would always try to change the subject to something that made him feel better. You knew why, Adam’s someone who rarely talked about his feelings, even after all these eons together that was something he hadn’t changed. You knew exactly what he needed, even if he didn’t explicitly tell you.

Sweetcheeks

I already miss yours too <3

Do you want to help me fall asleep with that heavenly voice of yours on the phone?

Dixkmaster69

Whatever you want Sweetcheeks <3

You smile when, almost immediately, Adam begins calling your phone. You click the lights off before You make your way in your new bed, not even bothering to change out of the clothes you’ve been wearing. You grab the cover and pull it over you and tapping the answer button.

“Sup”

You yawn “Hey handsome, I missed your voice”

You hear his voice hitch before he caused on “Of course you did, no one has a better voice than the dick master. But uh, yours is a close second”

You’re let out a tired giggle, “such a charmer, you. How’s your day been huh?”

“Oh! don’t even get me started on that- Lute took me to get some ribs to ‘calm my nerves’ or some shit and they had me, ME, wait in line for like 15 minutes! The fucking audacity!”

You smile to yourself as Adam tells you about his day, the sound of his voice was like a sweet lullaby to your ears and you couldn’t get enough of it. But eventually…

“And then when I got home, I couldn’t find my damn charger and it took me like 40 fuckin’ minutes to realize it was under our bed, do you have any idea of how it keeps getting there?” He waits for you to respond only to be met with silence. “Uh bitch, I’m talking to you.”

More silence… well no, actually if Adam focused on listening, he could hear the faint sound of your snoring from the phone. Adam sighs,”Long day, huh?”

Adam lays back in your shared bed, getting comfortable. He sets the phone beside him, plugging it in while keeping it on speaker. He yawns, “Goodnight Sweetheart, can’t wait to see you again”

Slowly, the soft sounds of both yours and Adam’s snores filled each others rooms, a distant, but intimate connection. Even in slumber, you couldn’t stop thinking of your handsome and caring soulmate.

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simblrcc-site · 7 months ago

Text

Simblr.cc - but better!

A lot has changed! Not only does it have a new lick of paint, it comes with way more features now!

Psst! If you are new to the site, please read this post first: Click me!

✨New Features

There are a lot of exciting new features:

An improved (Tumblr) importer.

A better Stories uploader.

A new lightweight uploader for quick, small posts.

A completely redesigned projects page with a fresh, modern look!

A redesign of the feed page + being able to like posts on said feed

You can now upload stories as "scenes" that appear on the feed, while still being part of a full, easily navigable story!

A new "Welcome" page, giving more people exposure to their stuff!

And... of course some bug fixes and teeny tiny User experience issues. 😉

🐦Lightweight Uploader

Something I'm super proud of putting together, the Lightweight uploader!

It streamlines the process of uploading simple pictures—no more navigating through multiple pages. Everything is on one easy-to-use page.

If you're logged in, you can access it directly from the Feed or via the "Upload/Post" option in the navbar.

Compatible Post Types:

WIPs

Gameplay

Personal

Lookbook

Familiar and Intuitive Features

If you're used to Tumblr's posting mechanism, you'll notice some recognizable elements:

Drag and Drop Images: Arrange your pictures to create collages! Each row holds up to 3 images, and you can add as many rows as you want.

Simpler Tagging: Tags are now easier to select.

Optional Titles and Descriptions: For WIPs and Personal Posts, titles and descriptions are optional. For other posts, they're still available but not required.

Streamlined and intuitive, the Lightweight Uploader makes sharing your content easier than ever!

📥 Improved Importer:

What's New?

New Importer: Pillowfort! We’ve added a brand-new import option: Pillowfort!

Tumblr Importer:

Previously, the Tumblr Importer relied heavily on your theme, which often caused errors if your theme wasn’t quite right. Fixing those errors was frustrating for both of us!

What’s changed? The importer now uses the official Tumblr API to grab your posts. This means imports will work flawlessly 99% of the time.

Plus, when you share a post on Simblr.cc, the importer will reblog it on Simblr.cc's Tumblr, giving you more exposure—that’s what Simblr.cc is all about!

What about past uploads?

I'm working to have the importer recognize whether your upload is CC or a Gameplay item (not live yet).

Support is being added to reblog posts from the old Tumblr Importer, so those uploads can still shine!

More import options are on the way in the future!

🖊 Improved Stories Uploader

Easier for Writers and readers! 😉

When creating a new story or legacy, you now have three options:

Chapter-Only Story

Chapters & Scenes Story

Scenes-Only Story

Important: All stories created before this update are currently set to Chapters-Only.

What’s the Difference Between a Chapter and a Scene?

Introducing Scenes! Previously, stories and legacies were strictly chapter-based, meaning you could only release a full chapter at a time. Now, with scenes, you have more flexibility!

A scene works like a storyteller’s post on Tumblr—it appears on your feed. This means your scenes can be shared on Simblr.cc’s Feed (but not the Stories browse page) even before the full chapter is published, making it easier for readers to discover your story.

Note: A "Scenes-Only" story works just like a "Chapters & Scenes" story—just without the chapters! 😉

Can I Change My Story Type?

You can change a Chapters-Only Story to a Chapters & Scenes Story. However, you cannot switch from Chapters-Only to Scenes-Only or any other combination.

Though, you will have to ask me to do this for you, due to the way it's currently set up.

Afterwords:

Note: Since this entire platform was built by just one person (me!), it might still have some bugs I haven’t come across yet. Please understand that most social media platforms have entire teams working on features like this, and therefore I can't promise a super "bug free" experience.

So, If you spot any bugs, please don’t hesitate to report them—it’ll help make the platform even better, and it also helps me out! Thanks for your support! 😊

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drchucktingle · 1 year ago

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Chuck, how do you deal with people who are rude about you and your work? I write queer romance and I want to put my writing out there for people to read, but I'm a very sensitive person and I know it will be hard not to take insults personally and let them affect me. I don't want to let that stop me from expressing myself and sharing my art, but I'm scared!

very good question buckaroo. i am a good example of this as pretty much EVERYONE was rude about my work for many years calling it 'so bad its good' (it is just good) and 'terrible photoshop' (i think it has a great and instantly recognizable style) and 'intentionally stupid premises' (i dont think there is anything stupid about sex being fun and whimsical and playful). even these days the reaction of the VAST majority of buckaroos who discover chuck have this reaction AT FIRST, and then learn to appreciate the tingleverse in a more sincere way over time.

all that is to say BEING DOUBTED HAS WORKED OUT VERY WELL FOR ME. art that changes meaning over time can be very powerful, so if someones initial reaction to my trot is one thing and then it evolves into another thing, well that is just good art. while it can feel bad to get a bad review, i would say a bad review just means you have entered a realm of tension and change and discord and WE ARE TALKIN ABOUT ART BUD so that, in itself, is very exciting.

i think of what i do as 'punk writing', and a big part of that means pushing against preconceived sensibilities. not many other authors will proudly say 'there SHOULD be some spelling errors in my erotic shorts because i wrote it in a day and edited it once. that is the FEELING i want to create', but that is my way. by creating what is in my soul i KNOW i am going to bother some buckaroos and that is okay.

now i am NOT assuming you are also doing punk writing (that is okay of course we all have our own styles. what i am doing with tinglers is pretty rare), but it still stands to remember that there are 7.8 billion people on the planet of this dang timeline and some of them are bound to be bothered by your creations. that is not a problem, that is just part of baring your authentic self.

the other thing to remember is theres no REAL right or wrong in art. it can be analyzed in different ways and i tend to look at it in a way of comparing intention to result, but even THAT is not strictly correct. therefore any bad review of something you make is not actually BAD it is just someones information and feedback for you to take or leave. a one star review is just another opinion, it is no more right or wrong than your own opinion, and that is wonderful. it is freeing.

if i see a bad review of my own book, lets just say CAMP DAMASCUS for instance, i do not get upset because i know this: that reviewer is not wrong. camp damascus is five stars for me, but it is one star for someone else AND THAT IS OK. THAT IS THE WAY IT SHOULD BE. THAT IS GREAT ART. also MAYBE THEY KNOW BETTER THAN I DO. just because i wrote the book does not mean i am the authority on it, and the conversation and tension between those that enjoy something and those that despise it is a creative act. the audience engaging with your work is just your art emerging from its cocoon and saying 'here i am. lets see where i flutter off to now'

do not fear the river of this timeline sweeping away your creations and carrying them where it will. this is inevitable, but it is also beautiful and freeing. you cannot swim against it and that is okay bud, because YOU HAVE ALREADY WON. you have already created something and given a piece of yourself back to this timeline and that is a great honor and privilege. it is literally all there is

by creating ANYTHING you are proving love is real, and that is something to be proud of

#buckaroo lifestyle #art #creation #chuck tingle

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shaunasrabbit · 2 months ago

Text

Playin' Games | QZ!Joel x F!Reader

Explicit. Minors DNI. Part I.

Summary: You steal Joel's cut from a run. He comes to claim what's his.

Tags: No use of y/n, implied age gap (pretty nondescript but I imagined the reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his mid-50s), reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, some physical descriptions (reader has hair that can be pulled, has a bush because #bushnation, and is curvy if you squint), sort of mean!Joel, reader is a little bratty, blood (brief and barely described), pussy eating, pussy pronouns, Joel is uncut because I said so, pussy slapping, use of good girl and other pet names, choking, face fucking, light dacryphilia, impact play with object, edging, hair pulling, squirting, unprotected piv, creampie. If I missed any tags, please let me know!

Word count: ~6.5K

Read on AO3

A/N: This is my first time writing fiction ever (nonfic writer here), so I'm very excited and nervous to post. My apologies for any grammatical/spelling errors—I lightly proofread this myself. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated! The entire fic was born out of wishing Joel Miller was hitting me with something. If you like this fic, please reblog and like. I hope you enjoy! Divider by @/saradika-graphics

NEXT CHAPTER

You knew what you were doing when you pocketed Joel’s cut.

It was a job that he orchestrated, smuggling some pills out of the QZ, but you did all of the heavy lifting. You put your ass on the line. Really, if you think about it, you deserved it more than him, but that’s not why you kept it.

It’s no secret that Joel has a temper. You have seen him murder people—innocent people—for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t find it sexy. Maybe that means there’s something wrong with you, but you figure that you’re living through the fucking apocalypse so you give yourself a pass for failing to psychoanalyze yourself. Trying not to die is the priority. And getting fucked by gruff Joel Miller apparently. When he bursts through your front door, and you know he will, he’ll get his payment. One way or another.

You’re waiting for him in bed, clad in only his undershirt. He gave it to you on a run after yours was shredded by barbed wire. Although you’d never admit it, you find yourself wearing it to bed sometimes, touching yourself to the thought of him. It’s infrequent—the fucking. A treat after a particularly stressful week, sometimes after a night of heavy drinking. He gives you the look, the one that says he’s about to ruin you, and you know. The small group that the two of you work with have no idea, though. You and Joel keep your mouths shut, talking only business. But fuck, you crave it. You crave the way his cock stretches you out, his intuitive hands, the feeling of his sticky cum on your tits. Sometimes you find yourself daydreaming about it while trailing behind him on jobs, staring at his broad shoulders and the gray peppered throughout his curls. Joel Miller makes you feel like a goddamn school girl with a crush.

Right when you think you’re growing too impatient, hands almost sliding between your legs to give yourself some relief, you hear it. A blunt knock on the door followed by the jiggling of the door knob. Your thighs squeeze in anticipation, feeling giddy like a teenager. When you hear his keys jangling, you stand up, scanning the room for the best place to hide. Unfortunately, your shabby apartment came without a closet door and you don’t really own many items to hide behind. Under the bed will have to do, even if it is predictable. He’ll find you in seconds, but it’ll rile him up a bit.

The door swings open and you hear him call your name. Sliding under the bed, you lie on your stomach—a rabbit waiting for the fox to sniff it out. Despite knowing you aren’t in any real danger—well, probably—you feel your hands start to shake, your breath becomes uneven, and wetness pools between your thighs. You silently curse him for the effect he has on you. Fucking embarrassing, you think to yourself.

“You better get your ass out here,” he barks from the living room, boots thudding against the distressed hardwood as he slowly makes his way towards the archway into your bedroom. You clamp your hand over your mouth to dampen the sound of your heavy breathing.

He walks into your room and passes your bed, heading for the bathroom. A deafening scrape from the shower curtain rings echoes through the apartment, making your heart race. The anticipation feels like torture. Both you and your pussy, now clenching around nothing, know that Joel’s coming for you any second—there’s nowhere else you could be hiding.

A gasp is pulled from your throat as Joel’s calloused, large hands grip onto your ankles and yank you out from underneath the bed. You don’t even have time to think as he flips you onto your back and places his worn boot on your chest to hold you down. “Fuck,” you curse under your breath.

“Where is it?” he asks, his voice low and flat. A twinge of annoyance hits you as your pussy is left unacknowledged; either he’s actually focused on getting his ration cards or is intentionally ignoring you to fuck with you. Heat creeps across your face, searing your cheeks.

You blink at him, eyes wide in a half attempt to feign innocence. Slowly, you spread your legs to draw attention to your slick folds. “Where is what, Joel? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Joel’s eyes rake down your body as he takes in the sight of your bare cunt. His eyelids are heavy and though it seems impossible, his deep brown eyes become darker. There’s a hint of lust—maybe rage—behind them. The line is blurry, and all you can think about is his broad shoulders as he towers above you.

“I’m not playin’ these fuckin’ games with you, sweetheart,” he spits out, clenching his jaw and his fist in unison. Got him. “The ration cards. My cut. Hand ‘em over.”

“Oh, that.” You bite your lip to hold back a smirk. “Gone. Sorry. You can take mine from the next run.”

Within seconds, your chest is relieved from the pressure of his boot, but his hand tangles in your hair, gripping it tightly and pulling you up to your feet.

“Not how that works,” he says, tightening his iron grip on your hair before pushing you onto your bedspread. He climbs on top of you, pinning one of your wrists to the bed while the other reunites with your throat. If he wasn’t squeezing your neck so damn hard, you would probably be able to moan when his knee makes contact with your leaking core. Instinctively, you rut your hips against him for even a hint of friction.

“Didn’t think you were dumb enough to think I’d take this pussy as payment.” Joel lets go of your wrist and lands a sharp smack against your cunt. “No matter how fuckin’ sweet she is.”

Grabbing your mound, he rubs circles over your hair there before slapping your pussy again. You try to yelp, but his grip is so tight that it comes out strangled and pathetic. Joel scoffs and his jaw goes slack.

“Ya see this?” He holds up his hand, slowly moving his fingers apart so you can see strands of your slick between each of his digits. “Barely touched you—god, you’re desperate. A desperate fuckin’ whore.”

He lets go of the python-like grip he had on your throat and jams two of his wet fingers into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag. Tears well in your eyes quicker than you’d like to admit.

“I may be a dumb, desperate whore,” you say, managing to choke out the words through your gasps, “but you’re the one that’s already hard.”

Joel moves swiftly to stand and you sit up on your elbows, legs parted and pussy still exposed to him. Your eyes drop to his belt buckle to watch his hands move expertly to undo it. Saliva pools in your mouth as you think about how hard his cock is going to be. Joel’s bigger than anyone else you’ve been with, and you fear that there will come a time where you don’t get to feel the stretch of him anymore. No one else could compare.

“I know what’ll shut you the fuck up.” He pushes his pants down to his mid-thigh. As his cock springs free, he demands, “On your back. Head off the edge.”

Fuck, he’s going to make it hurt and considering how pissed he looks, he’s going to make it really hurt. But you do as he says because you want it regardless. You want anything Joel has to give, but you’d never admit that to him and even without confessing, he knows.

With your head hanging off the bed, you look up at him and see his heavy balls above you, bouncing as he strokes his already hard cock and exposes the swollen head. You stick your tongue out and he rewards you with a hard slap. Closing your eyes with bliss, you taste his salty pre-cum. A sense of victory swells in your chest—your plan was fucking working.

“This isn’t payment, darlin’. This is punishment,” he grumbles before forcefully shoving his uncut cock into your open mouth. He says it’s not payment, but it sure as hell doesn’t feel like punishment to you as your wet, wanting mouth coaxes a groan out of him. The intrusion makes you gag and tears prick at your eyes. You can tell he hasn’t showered today, taking in the scent of his musky sweat. So unmistakably Joel—you swear you’d wear it as perfume if you could.

It takes a moment for your throat to adjust to his size, but once you do, you stop gagging as much as he finds a rhythm. And damn, he is relentless, fucking your mouth fast and careless.

“That’s it,” he groans, “I like you better when you got my cock in your mouth.”

Joel grunts above you, expletives and your name interrupting every now and then. Your hands are fisting the sheets, trying to give yourself some stability as he rocks his hips. Tears roll down your temples and into your hairline, your eyes closing tightly as you try to blink them away.

He looks down at you, eyelids heavy. “So goddamn pretty when you cry, baby.”

You’re rewarded with a particularly hard thrust that causes spit to sputter out of the sides of your mouth, dripping onto your cheeks. You instinctively try to pull your head back to catch your breath, but Joel’s hands grip the sides of your head to hold you in place.

A cruel chuckle mocks you from above as Joel looks down at you, rubbing your cheeks, hot and burning with want. Joel slows his hips and nearly pulls out all the way before slowly easing himself back in. “Fuck,” he exhales, looking down at his cock disappearing between your swollen lips. “You’re such a fuckin’ mess, but you’re takin’ my cock so well.”

You hum at the praise, the vibration adding an extra twinge of pleasure for Joel. His movements become erratic and you can feel his dick twitch in your mouth as he gets close to his release. That’s your favorite thing about fucking Joel—watching a man who never loses his composure, never seems vulnerable, finally falter when he comes. But when he suddenly leaves your wet mouth with a groan, you’re left gasping for air. You push yourself upright, feeling a little dizzy from all the blood rushing to your head while upside down. “Joel,” you whine, exasperated and utterly frustrated.

“‘Joel’ what? Do ya need something, baby?” he teases as he strips fully naked.

Rolling your eyes, you push yourself up against the headboard and spread your legs, lightly teasing your clit with your index finger. Even the slightest touch makes your legs tremble and you rest your head back, letting a delicate whimper slip from your lips.

“Uh-uh,” Joel tuts, sliding between your legs and slapping your hand away, “use your words. Had no problem runnin’ that pretty mouth earlier.”

Joel has always had a way of turning you on without even touching you, but this was a whole new level. His taunting goes straight to your cunt and you can feel your arousal dripping out of you. As badly as you want his hot, wet tongue on your clit, you aren’t going to give in that easily.

“Didn’t think you were dumb enough to need me to spell it out for you,” you quip, voice low and sultry.

Joel’s jaw tenses and his eyes narrow. You can tell he’s trying to decide what to do with you. Maybe he’ll shove his cock down your throat again to shut you up, maybe he’ll deprive you altogether and leave, or maybe he’ll give you what you want. When he’s in a bad mood, Joel likes to deny, deny, deny. But he does end up giving in. He always gives in.

Grabbing you by your leg, Joel pulls you onto his lap so that you’re straddling him. Your slick cunt finally makes contact with his hard length and you bite back a small moan at the pressure. There’s no point in trying to mask your neediness, Joel already knows, but you hold yourself back from grinding against his cock.

“Playin’ a real dangerous game, baby, ya know that?” Joel growls in your ear, giving your neck a light nip. You shudder at the sensation and take a deep breath, still fighting the urge to move your hips. His hands find your ass, squeezing and digging his fingernails into the soft flesh.

Draping your arms over Joel’s shoulders, you tilt your head to give him better access to your neck. “Maybe,” you smile as his teeth pinch the sensitive skin on your pulse point, “but I think you like this game.”

Joel lets out a breathy laugh against your neck, sending shivers down your spine and your breath catches in your throat. His fingers trail lightly up your ass before settling on your hips. The gentle touch is soured as he clutches you, a deep burn licking your sides. He moves you ever so slightly, making your clit brush against his swollen head. Your breath wavers and you pull back to look at him. Brown eyes illuminated by the setting sun, accentuating all of the flecks of gold and amber in his irises. You swear that you could stare into his eyes all day. Joel’s lips part like he’s hungry for you and you lean in to kiss him, but his hand intercepts you, grabbing your jaw tightly.

“No. Rule number one is,” he scolds, shaking your head slightly before letting it go of you, “no kissing.”

Part of you can’t help but feel disappointed even though you expect this from Joel. The two of you only ever kiss when there’s too much whiskey involved and the heat of the moment blinds him from his normal detachment.

You open your mouth to say something snarky, but Joel cuts you off. “Rule number two”—he grips the collar of the shirt hanging loosely off of you—“is no hiding these tits from me.”

Effortlessly, Joel rips your favorite shirt—his shirt—right down the middle. Within seconds, he brings his mouth to your already pebbled nipple, swirling it around his warm mouth. You bite back a moan and remind yourself that he just destroyed your favorite item of clothing. Instead, you furrow your brows and clench your jaw. You’re sure that you look ridiculous as you put on the angriest face you can muster while pleasure shoots through your core.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Joel?” you hiss while trying to push him off of you, palms pressing hard into his shoulders, but he doesn’t budge.

He pulls back for a moment and looks at you, replacing his mouth with his fingers and gives your nipple a light pinch. You pull your cheek between your teeth to stop a moan from tumbling out of you.

“What the fuck is wrong with me? Like you’re not wearin’ nothing but my shirt.” Joel bites the swell of your breast and soothes it with a gentle suck after, finally eliciting a moan from you. “You wear it when you touch yourself?”

Your cheeks feel hot as embarrassment bubbles in your stomach alongside desperation. Every time Joel mocks you, you feel yourself falling deeper into that safe space that you crave. The space where you don’t have to think about the broken world around you, the space where only Joel and his touch matter.

Unable to think of anything snarky to say back, you let out a pathetic whimper that Joel takes as a victory. He flips you onto your back and settles between your legs, nearly growling when he sees your arousal leaking from your slit. Gripping your hips, he stops you from trying to wiggle towards him.

“Look at that, baby,” he groans before kissing the coarse hair on your mound, “I can’t believe how fuckin’ wet she is for me. Such a needy little thing.”

All you can manage is a small whine as you tangle your hands in his soft curls, practically pushing his face into your pussy. Joel’s hot breath fans over your cunt and you press your head into the pillow, spreading your legs more for him—begging him to give you something.

Joel accepts the non-verbal invitation and licks an agonizingly slow stripe from your hole to your clit. Sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth, he lets go with an obscene pop. You moan at the loss of contact, squeezing your eyes shut and letting go of his hair so you can fist the bed sheets instead. Joel’s not patient, but neither are you, and you’re starting to feel a level of want that’s almost painful.

Two of Joel’s fingers form a V to spread your folds, further exposing your clit so that he can get a better look at you. You glance down and the sight of him causes you to clench, reminding you how empty your pussy is. Pupils blown, hair tousled, and if you didn’t know that the glisten around his lips was your arousal, you’d swear he was drooling. He may have you melting under his touch, but you were wrecking him, too.

“Are you going to be a good girl f’me?” he asks, lightly brushing his index finger over your swollen bud.

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. “I don’t know, Joel,” you say, almost sing-songy, as you tilt your hips closer to him. “Are you going to give me a reason to be?”

A hard smack to your cunt forces your eyes open and you try to retreat, scooting towards the headboard, but it’s useless. Joel has you held firmly in place with one hand.

“Such a fuckin’ brat,” he growls.

You don’t get to answer before Joel’s jamming two fingers inside of you, giving you no time to adjust to the width before he’s fucking into you. You suck in sharply at the slight burn before a strangled moan claws its way out of your throat. His pace is unforgiving, but you can’t get enough. You find yourself bucking your hips into his hand, propping yourself up on your elbows for a better view of his fingers moving in and out, covered in your juices.

Joel’s eyes are dark and fixated on your cunt and how it gushes around his fingers. The sound of your squelching pussy and wanton moans filling the room, sounding like a symphony. If you had the ability to think about anything besides the sweet tension building in your lower stomach and the rugged man between your legs, you’d be concerned about the neighbors hearing.

“Good girls get to come,” Joel says, glancing up at your flushed face. Your lips are parted as you’re basically panting, trying to catch your breath, but Joel never gives you the chance to, continuing to fuck you mercilessly. “Is that ‘nough of a reason for you, sweetheart?”

“Mm, maybe—fuck!”

When Joel’s tongue meets your clit, you cry out and try to grab at his free hand to ground yourself. For a moment, he laces your fingers together, his large hand swallowing yours, but he quickly moves your hand up to your breast. Your grab at your own flesh, gently tugging at your nipple as Joel’s fingers and tongue work in tandem. The way Joel’s tongue swirls against your clit in precise circles feels like magic, like this is all he was built for. Your legs start to twitch as you approach your release and electricity courses through your body while Joel’s fingers curl just right to hit that spongy spot inside of you. You clench around him, obscene moans and gasps just pouring out of you. Joel hums against you, clearly pleased with himself. He takes your bud into his mouth, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. And fuck—that nearly does you in. But just as quickly as you got there, he takes it all away—keeping you at the edge but not allowing you to fall over.

Pulling his mouth away and retracting his now soaked fingers, he drags his index finger up and down your seam. Your hips shift and you groan, disgruntled and, frankly, annoyed. When the two of you make eye contact, despite your exasperation, you can’t help the way the corners of your mouth turn slightly upward, admiring how his lips and scruff are glistening with your arousal, his disheveled hair, the sheen of sweat on his forehead that’s dampening his curls.

“What’s that little smirk about?” Joel asks with a raised brow. He moves up towards you, peppering your breasts with a few delicate kisses before settling next to you. As Joel’s arm snakes around your shoulder and he pulls you into his warm chest, your breath hitches at the sudden, unexpected gentleness of it all.

These moments when Joel’s soft with you are rare, making them all the more satisfying. Something tugs at your heart, though. You wonder what Joel was like before the outbreak, before the world turned even the softest to stone. Maybe Joel was the type to make love, not the type to fuck. Maybe he brought his dates flowers and opened the car door for them. Once, you heard whispers that Joel had a daughter who died. The thought of him making her school lunches makes your chest tighten. With your ear pressed to his chest and his heart beating steadily underneath you, you realize that you’d do anything to see Joel Miller being domestic, being soft, being sweet. God, what the fuck is wrong with me? you think, squeezing your eyes shut to push the thought away. You tell yourself being this turned on can make the mind think crazy things.

“You gonna answer me?” Joel’s voice is low, quieter now.

Nipping at his jaw and soothing it with a kiss, you whisper, “Need you—need your cock inside me, Joel.”

“Darlin’,” he chuckles, his lips brushing your temple, “I don’t really give a shit what ya need. You’re gonna take what I give ya.”

With a small whine, you nod and nuzzle your face into his neck. You asked for this, you know that, but you feel like you're going to explode and there’s no way he doesn’t feel the same. His cock twitching ever so slightly against the soft shelf of his tummy gives him away.

Joel’s free hand slides down to your breast, giving your nipple a hard tug, before coming in contact with your clit. He begins to rub excruciatingly light circles on your sensitive nub. A wanton sound, somewhere between a whine and a moan, climbs its way out of your throat as you press your face into his neck. You start to hate him for a moment, but then you remember how perfectly he stretches you out and if you’re just a little more patient, maybe you’ll feel it soon. At least that’s what you tell yourself.

“I know, I know,” he coos. “Wanna come for me, huh?”

All you can do is whine and nod in response, bucking your hips toward his thick finger, begging for more pressure on your clit. The way his voice has softened shoots right to your core. Something akin to butterflies in your stomach overwhelms you as heat spreads throughout your chest. You feel so hot, so needy, and so agitated that he isn’t just giving you what you want.

Joel lets out a breathy laugh and finally rubs your clit in earnest. It feels like heaven and hell at the same time, both overstimulating and not stimulating enough. You close your eyes so tight that you see stars as you feel the pressure steadily build inside of you. Joel whispers filthy things in your ear, but you can hardly focus on anything except the practiced circles on your clit.

Involuntarily, your legs twitch and begin to close as you approach your peak. Joel pins your leg to the bed with his own and slaps your clit, a playful warning. “C’mon now, be a good girl. Keep ‘em spread for me,” he says, voice husky and low as it vibrates the shell of your ear.

The praise nearly makes you come and Joel knows it, but he slows his pace, letting your impending orgasm dissipate. You exhale slowly, trying to mask your frustration. But then he does it again and again, bringing you right there before taking it all away. After your orgasm is snatched away from you for the fourth time, you’re a shaking mess, hair sticking to your forehead and face hot with lust and anger which, right now, feel like the same thing to you.

“Y’look s’pretty like this, y’know that?” he asks, his syrupy drawl thickened by want.

“Mm—feels s-so,” you moan, “fucking good, Joel.”

After the first few times fucking him, you figured out that Joel likes praise as much as you do, even if he isn’t forthright about it. It isn’t a lie, it feels so fucking good, but you also hope that telling him so will give you the release you crave. As his fingers speed up, applying the right amount of pressure, you think your strategy may have worked. Your moans become louder as your hips jerk up. You’re right there. But he stops altogether, dragging his fingers up to rest on the curve of your stomach, leaving a trail of your arousal.

The smug look on his face pisses you off. You want to hit him. You want to scream, maybe cry. You want to fucking orgasm.

“What the fuck, Joel?” you snap, breaking away from his hold.

“Oh, baby, real awful, ain’t it? Not getting what you want?”

“Fuck you,” you hiss, trying to pull yourself up off the bed despite your legs feeling like gelatin.

A calloused hand catches your wrist and drags you back onto the bed. Joel positions you so that you’re straddling him. If you weren’t so worn out from being edged for what felt like hours, you probably would try to resist, but it’d be useless. You’re forcing yourself to hover above him, legs twitching as you try to muster the strength to stay like that, just so he doesn’t get the satisfaction of your wet, hot cunt on his throbbing cock.

Joel notices that you’re enraptured by him below you, your eyes focusing intently on the expanse of his chest and the gray hair littered across, covering scars here and there. While you’re thoroughly distracted—lecherous yet embittered—Joel forces you down on his cock. The unexpected intrusion makes you wince and a jumbled fuckjoelohmygod spills from you, sandwiched between high pitched whines and moans.

“Fuck me, sugar,” he commands with a grunt, slapping your ass as he bottoms out inside of you. The head of his cock kisses your cervix, stirring a delicious pressure inside of you, and the initial burn of the stretch melts into pleasure.

You can’t think of anything except the feeling of Joel splitting you open. The way the gray patch of hair at the base of the cock meets your own hair and your swollen clit, the weight of his hands on the soft, plush flesh of your hips, the bead of sweat rolling down his aquiline nose. You snap out of your trance as he squeezes your supple thighs and raises an eyebrow, awaiting your movement.

“I-I…” you stutter, pinching your eyes closed. You anchor yourself to him by pressing your palms flat against his chest, his heartbeat steady yet accelerated under your touch. Seated fully on his cock, you begin to languidly grind on him, softly moaning as the base of his cock grazes your puffy clit. You’re slow in your movements, but precise, only prioritizing Joel’s cock nudging the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl and the pressure on your clit.

“Is that the best ya can do?” Joel groans, discontented with your lack of compliance. His feet dig into the bed for leverage as he lifts his hips to fuck up into you, fast and sloppy.

It’s an obscene sight—your tits bouncing as he fucks you, his thumb playing with your clit, hands grasping at the headboard for some grounding. But the sounds, god. The sounds in the room were downright sinful. High-pitched, borderline squeaky, gasps and mewls from you with grunts and groans from Joel. Skin on skin. The bedframe precariously creaking. Nearly out of your goddamn mind from Joel’s cock ruthlessly pistoning in and out of your weeping cunt, you have no idea how loud you really are, but even if you did, it wouldn’t matter. The louder you get, the harder Joel fucks you.

“Mm, fuck, can feel her squeezin’ me, sweetheart,” Joel grumbles between heavy breaths, “but ya can’t come until I say so, got it?”

You nod dumbly with your mouth agape, doing your best to fight the fire in your clit that was rapidly burning. Tears threaten to spill from your waterline as Joel’s thumb works faster to circle your clit and you hear him chuckle beneath you. That fucking asshole. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Joel, stop,” you choke out, “or I-I-I’ll…I’m going to—”

“No, be a good girl f’me.”

That’s all it takes. Those two words—good girl—send waves of pure ecstasy over you while you come on his cock. As your walls spasm and clench around him, you dig your nails into his shoulders. Maybe you’ll leave your mark on him, adding to the collection of scars across his body. Joel fucks you through it, each thrust more erratic and delectable than the last.

As you come down from the high of your orgasm, each of your senses trickle back in. You can now hear Joel saying something that you can’t quite make out below you, you can taste the iron on your tongue from where you bit down on your lip while you came, you can feel the wetness on your thighs. Wait—why was it so wet? Glancing down, it hits you. You must’ve squirted because you and Joel are drenched in your release. Heat creeps up your neck and rests on your cheeks, your face burning with embarrassment.

“Hey,” Joel’s gravelly voice cuts through your haze. A light tap to your ass draws your eyes down to his. “Up.”

Lips parted, you nod slowly, pulling yourself off of his cock and collapsing next to him. Joel shifts onto his side to face you, heavy and hard cock landing on your wet thigh. Your eyes meet his for only a few seconds before you look away, unable to read his expression. You sigh and say, “That’s…never happened before…”

Joel hums in response as he sits up and positions himself between your shaky thighs, spreading them apart and grabbing the base of his cock. Your breath hitches and your eyes widen, mesmerized by the angry red tip in front of you. How is it even possible to still need him after such an intense orgasm? Joel makes you like this. Insatiable. You think you hate him for it or at least you might right now, while you lie in front of him, absolutely wrecked.

“Soaked my goddamn lap,” he grumbles.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Don’t go blamin’ me,” he gruffs, lining himself up to your leaking entrance. “Blame this needy fuckin’ pussy. Can’t help creamin’ all over my cock, huh?”

In one swift motion, Joel snaps his hips into you, his groin flush against yours. You nearly yelp, your pussy beyond sensitive from your orgasm. He begins fucking you relentlessly and you wrap your legs around his waist to suck him in as deep as possible. You swear, you can feel him in your stomach every time he bottoms out. Joel leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours, your sweat mingling with his. It’s torturous, having him this close to you, but knowing that you can’t kiss him. You wouldn’t risk it, not when you’ve already pushed your luck with him. All you want is Joel. Inside of you, on top of you, touching you.

“Y’need to learn your lesson, girl,” he mumbles, lips dangerously close to yours. Joel’s hand snakes between the two of you and rests heavy on your throat.

“Please,” you choke out, unsure of what you’re even asking for. Pliant and soft beneath him, you’d take anything.

Joel props himself up on an elbow, his large hand never leaving your neck, as he looks around the room. Something shifts as his gaze lands on the back scratcher next to your bed. His eyes, dark and heavy lidded. Letting go of your throat, he grabs the back scratcher and turns it over in his hands like he’s contemplating whether or not it’s a suitable punishment. You know damn well that he’s already made up his mind—he’s just fucking with you.

“Hm,” his eyes flick up to meet yours, “ya think this will get it through that pretty little head? That ya gotta listen to me?”

Biting your bottom lip, you give a small shrug. “Maybe,” you say, practically a whisper. Sweat starts gathering in the pit of your knee as you anticipate the burn.

Joel pushes your legs together and shoves your knees into your chest, making your pussy choke his cock and you can’t help but moan at the change in position. With the back of your thighs exposed to him, Joel has the perfect view of where his cock meets your pussy and he’s practically salivating. When his thumb brushes your swollen lips, you hum in pleasure and close your eyes, letting your head loll back onto the pillow. Lost in a daze, Joel seizes the opportunity to catch you off guard. Cold wood meets your skin with a loud smack and you cry out at the sudden pain.

“Fuck!” you exclaim, eyes opening and brows furrowing as you look up at him.

“Poor thing. Shoulda listened to me if ya didn’t want me to hurt ya.” Soothing the skin that was already beginning to raise with his thumb, Joel tuts and shakes his head. “But I think ya like this, don’t ya?”

You whine in response, nodding your head in quick succession. It’s true; in a world with so much unmitigated pain, it was nice to have a strike come from Joel. Joel, who despite all of his rough edges, wouldn’t ever hurt you too badly.

“S’what I thought,” he says, raising the back scratcher and hitting the back of your thighs again, but this time with more force.

As the sting fizzles out, Joel begins fucking you, setting a punishing pace. The pleasure and pain are an irresistible cocktail and you start to clench around him, feral moans and his name mindlessly pouring out of you.

Joel groans at the sight in front of him. You, all fucked out, just writhing in front of him. Pulling your legs closer to your chest, you invite him to hit you again. And fuck, he does. Over and over again, only stopping when he sees that he’s broken skin, crimson bubbling from the small split in your flesh. At this point, the pain has clouded your mind and everything felt hazy. You’re finally in that space that only Joel can bring you to.

“Oh, baby,” Joel coos between grunts, “did s’fuckin’ well takin’ your punishment.”

You smile stupidly at the praise, letting your legs drop, blood smearing on your bedspread. When you open your eyes, you see Joel looking down at you, almost affectionately. You’d seen him vulnerable before, yes, but this feels different, like you’ve managed to access a different part of him. You’re not sure what part of him, but it was definitely something new. He leans down, burying his face in your neck as he continues to fuck you, hard and deep. Holding him to you like you’ll fall off of the earth if you let go, you moan his name in his ear as he kisses that sweet, velvety spot in your pussy with his cock.

Hips stuttering, you can tell he’s close. His grunts grow louder and beautifully harmonize with the squelch of your pussy. “Joel,” you whimper, “want you to fill me up. Please.”

“Like when ya use your manners, sweetheart,” he says, nipping at your throat. “Gonna fill ya up real good. Claim this fuckin’ cunt.”

With that, he’s spilling ropes of come inside of your spent cunt, filling you to the brim. Your pussy has a vice grip on him, squeezing and milking every last drop from his cock. When he finally stills inside of you, you’re both panting messes. Joel goes limp against you, putting all of his weight on you as you both try to catch your breath.

You could lie like this forever, you think. There’s something comforting about his body suffocating yours, cock softening inside of you. Something safe about it. Something that makes your body vibrate. You push the warm thoughts away, knowing that in a few minutes, Joel will be slamming your door shut to go back to his apartment across the QZ.

Joel pulls out of you carelessly without a word and begins to get dressed, shoving his come-slick cock in his boxers. You reach over to your nightstand, opening the draw and pulling his ration cards out. As you do this, you feel his come leak out of you, trickling down to your puckered hole and pooling on your definitely soiled bed sheets.

Tossing the ration cards his way, you lean back against the headboard. Joel’s eyes flick from his cut to you, quietly shoving the cards in his back pocket.

“Y’could’ve just asked,” he says flatly.

“More fun this way.”

Joel exhales through his nose and the slightest smirk tugs at his lips. Padding over to you, he leans down and presses his lips to your forehead, brushing your hair out of your face. You leave a kiss on the palm of his warm hand before getting out of bed and walking over to the bathroom to clean up. Joel’s eyes are burning into you as he watches his come drip down your legs from behind.

When you emerge from the bathroom, Joel’s gone, but the white t-shirt he was wearing under his flannel is folded at the end of the bed.

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jo-com · 1 year ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ➛ Mine

Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Summary: He's yours, and you're his. That's how it should be.

Tw: DARK, implied smut, obsession, manipulation, possessive behavior, branding, angst, jealous charles, some grammatical error, not proofread, google translated french cause i can't speak french and sorry if i wrote it wrong i just started writing again so idk if this is good or not.

words: 1.1k

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist (Part 2)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ───

From the start, Charles was nothing more than amazing—he would give you endless adoration and assurance, and overall was the perfect boyfriend. He would worship you like you were some kind of goddess—well, in his eyes, you were.

But Over time, his once pure love became a crazy obsession.

The need to always be by your side and not let any other guys come closer to you, talk to you, or even breathe the same air as you intoxicated his mind and clouded his judgment.

And you start to see changes that would never occur in the past—changes that weren't good. Like that time when you and Carlos were just casually talking and catching up—that sight alone was enough to make his once-puppy dog eyes become piercing ones. Burning a hole in both the backs of your heads, from across the room you could see how tensed he was, his jaws clenched and his hands gripped the seat making the texture of the seat all crinkly.

At that time you only shook it off as a "concerned gesture" and never said anything about it to him.

But then it was constantly happening; he would always get riled up whenever someone would just approach you, whether it was a girl, boy, kid, or even animals; he was getting jealous over almost everything.

You started to worry that things would get even more complicated as they continued. So you stood your ground and got up the courage to voice your concern to him.

...

"Charlie?" you said softly, entering the room, where he was reading. Your eyes scanned around the room then stopped when you spotted his figure.

There he was, sitting by the fireside with a book in his right hand and the other resting on the armrest. He looked like one of those guys that were sculptured to perfection, but you knew that, underneath that godlike demeanor was one possessive beast that was hard to tame.

Hearing your voice, Charles looked up from your direction and immediately lit up. "Oui? Mon chéri," he responded with his thick French accent.

You smiled half-heartedly and slowly walked to where he sat. From your action, he could tell that something was bothering you.

His face scrunched up with a frown as he stared intently at you as you sat down on one of the armrests.

"Is there something bothering you, Mon cœur?" he asked, lowering down the book he was reading and then slowly snaked up his free hand to rest on your waist.

You let out a deep sigh before answering, "You'll tell me when something's up right?"

He didn’t answer but just tilted his head and stared at you blankly. At that moment there were many questions running through his mind, but one particular thought stood out: Why would you ask something out of the blue when everything has been perfect? not unless someone put thoughts into that pretty little naive head of yours.

He let out a low chuckle—the grip on your waist tightened as he sucked out a breath—your eyes met his. Seeing the lack of emotion as he stared back at you, sent shivers down your spine, and what scared you even more was when he gave you a calm but menacing smile.

"What makes you think that there's a problem sweetheart?"

You bit your lower lip, holding back the urge to just blurt out your thoughts.

That small gesture was not left unnoticed by Charles. He raised his other hand and touched your lower lip, softly grazing his thumb to where you sunk your teeth. "You know you can tell me anything, right? Mon cœur? he assured.

His expression didn't change; the loving eyes that you once knew were now an emotionless void. With that look, you knew he was getting impatient the longer you stayed silent.

Breaking the silence, you slowly nodded your head and smiled lightly. "Yeah, I know baby, it’s just that you’ve been off lately and you get so riled up easily, mon amour—I know that you mean no harm, but it’s just too much and i-"

“Do you think I like being that way? ”Charles cuts you off.

He gazed at you—eyes filled with rage from what you just said. You squeaked at his burning glare and were quick to look away. The hand that used to rest in your waist was now at the bridge of his nose, pinching it with frustration.

"You know i wouldn't be that way if not for you, y/n. I am just keeping you safe from all those disgusting men at the paddock, tu ne sais pas de quoi ils sont capables y/n (you don't know what they are capable of)."

You kept your head down and stayed quiet, not wanting to say anything further that might ignite more of his anger.

Charles stared at your weak state and sighed heavily.

He stood up, standing in front of you. His hands are cupping both your cheeks, forcing you to stare at him. Charles rubbed your rosy cheeks soothingly, making you lean in on his touch.

"Everything I do is for you, mon chéri, okay?"

You looked at him through your eyelashes and smiled. Charles just wants you to be safe and there's nothing wrong with it, maybe your just overthinking it?.

Charles smiled and kissed your temple; hugging you close to him as if you'd leave once he let's go.

Only a fool would believe that Charles's "just wants you to be safe".

Y/n was a fool

...

Your body jolted at the sensation, your hand moving to your mouth as you bit down the urge to moan out loud.

The two of you were inside a closet room in the pit. Charles decided to pull this stunt the moment he laid eyes on you and Max talking. Like usual, he got riled up and dragged you somewhere secluded to "teach you a lesson".

Tears swell up your eyes, making your vision go blurry. Your other hand was pushing his head away and attempting to stop him from diving into your cunt and eating it like there was no tomorrow.

"Stop," Charles hissed, grabbing both your wrist and pinning it above your head—restricting your movements.

"What did i tell you about talking to others?"

You gulped down the lump in your throat and shook your head. "I am sorry, mon amour" your eyes pleading for him to stop.

Charles scoffed, gripping your jaw tightly. "espèce de salope (you slut), you just want everyone's attention, don't you?"

"Charlie, no, it's not like that," you begged, your voice shaking as his grip on your jaw tightened.

"Oh, I'll give you attention alright, Chienne (bitch)," he cussed, his accent making his aura more frightening.

...

You lay emotionless on the table, tears falling down your face—your clothes on the ground, your hair a mess, and your body filled with his markings.

In the corner of the room, Charles was fixing his clothes. Acting as if nothing had happened.

He then went over to you and pulled your body towards him, crassing your hair and kissing your temple. "Je t'aime tellement mon amour."

...

Should i make a part 2?? Btw hope you like this idk if i did it okay i just wanted to write again and like always my request are open!!

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evansbby · 2 years ago

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𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟓

part v - heart ripped, soul devoured

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, major angst, extremely dark themes, a/b/o dynamic, daddy!kink, dubcon, extreme depictions of depression, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of illness, 18+ only, minors do not interact!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: The end.

𝐀/𝐍: This is it. 37.7k words. The ending. I have read over it and edited it countless times, but please forgive any errors. Apart from that, enjoy!

PART I

“PETER! STOP!”

It's only when you scream at the very top of your lungs that Peter finally skids to a stop. But his grip on your arm remains firm – like he’s frenzied. And why wouldn’t he be? He must know the danger he’s put himself in; both of you look back at the mouth of the stadium for Steve. But there are too many people, too much going on, and you can’t tell whether your heart is beating crazily in longing for Steve or in warning for when he inevitably does find you. And Peter.

“Look, I’ve got a car.” Peter looks at you pleadingly, tugging at your hand again. He’s dragged you all the way to one of the parking lots of the stadium. “He won’t catch up to us if we leave now, not when there’re so many people. Please, just come on!” He gives you another yank, but you’ve got your feet planted firmly on the rough asphalt.

“I don’t want to go.”

“What?”

Now that you’ve verbalised it, it becomes all too real. You want to stay – right? That’s what you’ve just said, sounding as firm as you’ve ever sounded in your life. Clearing your throat, you take a deep breath before looking him dead in the eyes.

“Peter, I’m sorry but I don’t want to go with you. I want to stay with Steve.”

“What? No, you don’t mean that, you’re not thinking straight, you–”

His voice cuts off suddenly and he blinks. You wait with baited breath for the “you’re crazy” and the “are you kidding me?!” but all he does is stare at you.

What is it that he sees in your face through his unwavering stare? Is it something he refused to see before? Is Peter finally seeing the person who used to be his girlfriend before she cheated on him with another man? The same man whose baby you’re carrying? A man whose love you readily accepted after everything he put you through? A man whose proposal you accepted without even thinking of anyone else, Peter included?

“I can’t believe he’s done this to you.”

Genuine horror specks through his brown eyes, and you realise that it’s not your face he’s staring at. It’s your neck. Your mark. Shock donning his features, his lips parted and Adam’s apple bobbing, he reaches out to touch the jagged line. As if on cue, your mark throbs and you wince away from him. You feel a stinging pain, a warning pain – as if Peter’s touching something he’s not supposed to, and it makes you jerk backwards.

“No wonder you don’t want to come with me.” Peter sucks in his breath, and it’s like his face can’t decide between revulsion or pity and so it settles on a mix of both. “He’s marked you. Brainwashed you.”

Brainwashed? No, no, no. You want to stay with Steve, don’t you? Now that he’s finally turning a new leaf, now that he’s promised you everything? Now that the lingering fear of him stomping all over your trust and ruining it like he has in the past is gone… It’s gone, right? That’s why you want to stay!

“Peter, he’s going to kill you if he sees you. You have to go–”

“I can’t even begin to tell you how fucked up this is.” It’s like seeing Steve’s mark on your neck has incensed him to the point of anger. “How could he–? How could you let him do this to you?”

“I didn’t really have a choice–but a lot has happened since then!” You feel defensive – and what does that mean for you? You don’t really have the time to consider your complex feelings towards Steve marking you, however, because danger is imminent and Peter is refusing to see that. “Look, I’ll explain everything to you somehow. But you know how he gets when he sees you, or me talking to you. You know what happened last time, Peter, and I don’t want him to hurt you again! Please go!”

“STOP TELLING ME TO GO!” Peter bursts, “I’m not going anywhere, alright? I walked away last time and look what he’s done to you.” His eyes cloud over as he grips both your shoulders, “You were my girlfriend first, okay? We’d barely started dating but we were happy, weren’t we? And he took that away, he ruined that. But you were mine first.”

His lips press roughly against yours before you even have a chance to understand what’s happening. And it feels like you can’t breathe, like you’re drowning. Like someone’s dunked you in ice cold water and you can’t get out no matter how hard you push. It feels alien. It feels wrong. You’ve kissed Peter before and you remember it being sweet and safe. But now it’s like you’ve been programmed down to your core to only respond to Steve’s kisses. And the sudden foreignness of Peter’s lips has you recoiling – or at least trying to, except he keeps a firm hold on you, his lips moving desperately against yours.

Was he searching for something? Something that just wasn’t there anymore? Was it ever there?

You don’t have much time to mull over that, however, because you’re suddenly ripped off of Peter. Instinctively, you reach up to wipe your lips, heart beating in a mix of relief and confusion. And then a familiar scent makes your nostrils tingle, and you look down slowly at the fist holding tightly onto your wrist. Blue veins running up and down a muscular arm which seems to be shaking with anger. And your gaze trails upwards, and your blood freezes.

Steve.

It takes the alpha all of two seconds to tackle Peter to the ground. And then he stands over him, cheeks red and eyes narrowed almost to slits. Teeth bared, growl emanating from his whole chest like a wild animal about to strike. He’s breathing rapidly, too rapidly – you could almost mistake it for a panic attack except his face is so still. Not a muscle twitches, his sneer locked into place.

Steve is livid. You can tell from the pure rage you feel in your bond with him, from the way he’s so quiet. It reminds you of the night he forcefully bonded with you, how quietly angry he’d been, how frighteningly rough as he’d taken what he pleased. And it fills you with a cold terror, because that anger had been ignited because he’d seen Peter touch your arm. But this was a kiss. And Steve had seen it.

“You just made the worst mistake of your fucking life.” Steve says quietly, glaring daggers at Peter.

“Steve, don’t!” You grab at his arm but he easily pushes you off, not even sparing you a glance. He’s like a predator poised before an attack. And the poor prey never stood a chance.

“Go ahead, Steve.” Peter swallows, getting back up to his feet, his chin up. And it’s surprising how his voice is strong and unwavering, despite the alpha twice his size hovering over him. “You gave me a black eye once but I’m still here. Give me another one, it doesn’t matter. I’ll keep coming back for her.”

It only takes a nanosecond, a flurry of movement, before Steve punches Peter straight in the jaw. The force of the blow knocks the beta off his feet. And your mouth’s open in horror, a silent scream stuck in your throat at the sickly crackling sound, and the thud of Peter’s head hitting the rough asphalt underneath him.

“I told you, didn’t I? I told you there’d be hell to pay if I ever saw you near her again.” Steve says softly, yet there’s foreboding danger laced in every word. He grabs Peter’s collar so hard that his knuckles turn white, “And you fucking kissed her, you stupid fucking sonofabitch. I could split your fucking skull open on the ground right fucking now.”

His words are violent and so is his threat, but again, it’s the way he’s talking so quietly, so calmly as Peter coughs and sputters underneath him. That’s what chills your blood more than anything else.

“Steve, please don’t!” You try again.

Steve gives Peter several violent shakes, and each shake is accompanied by a venomous word, “Don’t – fucking – touch – her – again, you beta scum piece of shit!”

“She was mine first.”

“YOU SON OF A BITCH–”

It happens quickly after that. But for you, the sequence is delayed, like in slow motion. Steve lunges forward, holding Peter’s collar tight while his other fist lands another swift punch to the brunette’s jaw. And there’s that horrific crackling noise again, fuelled by white-hot anger. Anger and alpha seemed to go hand-in-hand, and Peter sputters and spits out blood and stares back defiantly despite it all.

Were you a fool to believe Steve would change? Blindly believing in his promises like you always had and then watching him go back on his word and destruct anything good that could potentially come of them? Were you doomed to watch the same story repeat itself over again? Hurt, pain, forgiveness. Then more hurt, more pain… more forgiveness. Like a vicious cycle, a path of destruction. More chaos. More hurt. More anger. Would it ever end?

Suddenly, you’re tired.

“If you hurt him again, I’ll never forgive you.”

Your tone is loud, clear and concise. No stutter. Like in the bathtub all those nights ago, when the dark claws of hopelessness had almost pulled you down under. But nothing’s tugging at you now, except the pull of Steve’s promises that he’d made earlier. Did they mean something, when it really came down to it? Would he be different this time?

Steve freezes, still breathing hard and he’s still got Peter’s collar in his hand. Peter, whose jaw is already beginning to bruise and swell. Two pairs of eyes, blue and brown, snap over to you but you only look into one of them.

“Steve.”

His name falls out of your mouth quietly. The moment is brief, but your alpha seems to see deep into your eyes. His lips press together to form a thin line, and his breathing slows, evens out. Then, for a horrific second, rage infiltrates his features once more, twisting them, turning them pointed and cruel. And then a beat passes and so does his fury, as he slowly, unbelievingly, seems to calm back down.

“You ruined her life by giving her that mark.” Peter says darkly, his words muffled because of a probably broken jaw, “You’re selfish, Steve. A selfish asshole for doing that to her. And if you had even an ounce of decency in you, you’d let me take her away.”

“You don’t fucking know what you’re saying.” Steve says through gritted teeth, “You don’t know the first thing about me and her.”

“I know that she’s good, she’s kind. And you feed off of that, because you could never fathom being that kind yourself.” Peter stares up at Steve brazenly, like he knows he’s on the brink of a beating but is long past caring. “You’ve manipulated her to the point where she thinks she doesn’t want to leave you.” And then he looks at you pleadingly, “You can leave him, okay? Just come with me.”

Steve lets out an almighty snarl, his anger coming back tenfold, and he draws his fist back, about to punch Peter again. And you move without thinking, throwing caution to the wind as you grab his arm with both of yours.

“Steve. Don’t hurt him. I won’t forgive you.”

Steve whips his head back in fury, looking from you to Peter and then you again, before his gaze drops down to where your hand holds tightly over his fist. The alpha, so big and foreboding, seems to be unravelling in front of you. Was there a chink in that unbreakable armour, in that searing anger on his face? Before, he would never have hesitated in his blind fury, but now…?

For the second time, the rage seems to dissipate from his face, before it fights its way back and twists his mouth into a snarl. And then it fades away again, like a receding wave. And that’s’ when you realise it:

He’s fighting himself.

“We should go, Steve.” You say quietly.

Almost robotically, Steve releases Peter’s collar. His entire being is tense with hardly-contained rage, but by some miracle, he listens to you. Maybe it’s your bond or just sheer luck, or maybe you’ve touched him somewhere from deep within, but he stands up and backs away from the scene in front of him. You take his hand, and he allows you to entwine your fingers with his and pull him away. But not before he gives Peter one last deathly look.

“The only reason you’re not dead right now is because of her.” Steve spits out, each seething word laced with pure venom.

And Peter’s face shines red with blood and his eyes shine bright with betrayal as he looks beyond Steve and straight at you. And there’s a part of you that wants to run back and help him, make sure his jaw is okay. Tell him you’re sorry, that you never meant for it to end this way. Instead, you take your phone out to call 911, hoping and praying he didn’t get a concussion from when his head hit the ground.

“Don’t fucking bother.” The beta spits out at you when he sees the phone in your hand, and you immediately freeze. And then he turns his attention to Steve.

“She’ll never love you.” Peter coughs as he stumbles to his feet. Steve goes deathly still next to you.

The alpha’s back is still turned, but that doesn’t deter Peter as he laughs bitterly. “You may have her trapped under your thumb, but just know that she’ll never really love you. Because no one could love you, Steve. And any kindness she shows to you is because she is kind, and any affection she shows to you is because you’ve marked her and she can’t help her biology.”

Steve still doesn’t turn back, but you can feel him begin to shake. And he grips your hand so tight, you feel like your bones might shatter.

“You think you’ve won, Steve?” Peter laughs again, “You had to forcefully mark her to get her to stay with you. She feels nothing for you, you hear me? She’s only with you because she’s scared and thinks she has no other option. She’s only with you because you preyed on an innocent omega, knowing you could trap her because she can’t help but do what you say. But take all that away and what’s left, Steve? Nothing. Certainly not love.”

People are starting to gather and get closer, a few of them muttering and pointing at Peter’s bruised face. And Steve still doesn’t look at the beta, almost like he’s rooted in place as he stares straight ahead. You spot a vein in his forehead; it looks like it’s about to pop.

“Alphas like you take whatever you want, with little regard to who you hurt. But mark my words, Steve, it’ll be you who’s hurting in the end.” Peter spits out blood before continuing, his eyes blazing as he ignores the small crowd of concerned people forming around him, “Every day you’ll wake up and you’ll look at her and wait for her to tell you she loves you. Hell, you might even be able to scare her into telling you that she does. But you’ll spend every day wondering whether she truly means it. Whether her affection is genuine or if it’s just the omega inside her that you’ve manipulated. You’ll wonder if her love is real, and I can tell you right now, Steve, that it’s not and it never will be. Because she will never love you.”

“Peter, stop–” You speak up.

“She won’t ever love you, Steve. No one could ever love you.”

Steve closes his eyes for a moment, his lips gaped open as if he’s struggling to regulate his own breathing. As if every fibre of his being is trying to hold on to remaining stoic. But you can see the chinks in his armour, you can feel his hand as it crushes yours almost desperately, and the way the muscles in his face twitch. You know that it’s taking everything within him to hold himself together, and you also know that anything could set him off.

Peter turns and leaves, the small crowd parting to give him space to move. A few people offer to help him, but he shrugs them off. You watch for a second as your ex-boyfriend walks away, feeling broken in more ways than one. There are so many things you want to say to him, but you have a bigger problem on your hands right now.

You pull on Steve’s hand to lead him away from the scene, and away from the crowd that begins to disperse almost as soon as it had gathered.

“FUCK HIM!”

You sit completely rigid in the passenger seat of Steve’s car, in shock over what’s just happened. Your eyes are glued to Steve, watching him through the windshield as he paces. His hands are clenched into fists, his face white as a sheet and hair a mess as he keeps running his hands through it. Finally, he throws open the driver’s seat door and gets inside. And that’s when you realise that he’s still shaking.

“Fuck.” He breathes, looking straight ahead. His slightly stubbled jaw is tightly clenched, and you can see that protruding vein on his temple. His blue eyes look wild, glazed, unfocused, as his hands grip the steering wheel, most likely in a bid to calm himself down.

“Steve–”

“FUCK!” He explodes, the word hurtling out like a venomous fireball bouncing off the interior of the car. He rams his fist against the dashboard, making the whole car shake just like he is. “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK HIM!”

He’d held it together pretty well during the tense walk away from Peter and all the way to the other side of the parking lot to where his car was parked. He’d pushed you inside almost at once, as if he needed you sat in one place where he could see you. And now, with relatively nobody around you both, his emotions were quick to unravel.

Steve gets out of the car again. And you watch him, his brows heavily furrowed, lips twisted as he keeps chanting the same thing over and over again: “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” And he gives the tire an almighty kick, once again making the car shake, and you grip the seat nervously, heart jumping up to your throat.

Another kick. And another one. Each one harder than the last, each one making your blood run colder and colder. Steve looked crazed, incensed, troubled, hurt and out-of-control – all those emotions wrapped up inside one alpha? You’re scared for what he might do next.

He stands there, chest heaving and face still screwed up. And then he gets back into the car, breathing hard. In fact, he’s gulping for air – as if he can’t seem to fill up his lungs no matter how hard he tries. Shaking hands, a wild look in his eye, they’re all tell-tale signs of a feeling you know all too well…

Was Steve having a panic attack?

It’s a side of him you’ve never really seen before. The formidable alpha who never outwardly showed even a hint of vulnerability.

“Fuck – him – he – doesn’t – know – anything!” Steve gets out between gasps of breath, his broad chest rising and falling at an alarming rate as he grips the steering wheel hard, almost as if he wants to tear it off and hurl it out the window.

You surge forward, cupping his face gently in both your hands. Slowly, you rub your wrists against his cheeks and nose. Scenting him. Like how he’d done for you all those weeks ago after the confrontation with Sharon had left you in tears and unable to breathe. You don’t know if it’ll work now, but you do know that if anything calms you down, it’s his scent. Maybe it would be the same for him?

And Steve looks at you, finally looks at you, with bewildered eyes but his nose twitches. His hand wildly grasps at your wrist, keeping it pressed against his face with a desperate carnality. Slowly, his breathing slows down, evens out. His shoulders sag, and then he crumples. Leaning over the console and hugging you fiercely, burying his face in your neck and holding you so tightly you fear you’ll pass out.

“He kissed you.” Steve says against your skin, “I didn’t like… Fuck, I hate that he did that. I hate that he touched you. It feels… It feels…”

It’s like he can’t find the words to explain what he’s feeling. But you know, you know, you know! For once, you know exactly what’s going on in his head because you’d felt it too! When he’d kissed the other omega. Like your heart was breaking over and over again, shattering when it was already shattered – was he feeling that too now? The worst feeling in the world, was Steve feeling it too? You don’t know what to say, but a part of you can’t help but think: now you know how it feels, Steve.

“You can’t kiss anyone else ever again. I hate it… I can’t fucking stand it… I –” His lips catch against yours desperately, biting and pulling as his tongue gains entrance to your mouth. You sigh against his lips and he lurches forward, consuming you with a possessive kiss that leaves you reeling.

“He doesn’t know us.” Steve says, digging his fingers into your flesh, “Fuck him. He doesn’t know the first fucking thing about us. I could’ve killed him.”

“I know.”

“Where the fuck does he get off? Taking you away from me, kissing you… And then all those fucking insinuations…? Acting like he knows me. Like he knows what I feel for you. As if his tiny fucking brain could even understand what we have between us.” He gives your shoulders a shake, “I swear to fucking God, I should’ve killed him.”

“I’m really grateful that you didn’t.”

Steve lets out a strangled sound, like a mix between a rumble and a sigh. “You’re the only reason I didn’t do it. I could’ve snapped his fucking neck.”

You don’t know what to say, all you can do is hug him and hope it’s enough to calm him down. He buries his face in your neck again, desperately smelling you as if he’s making sure you’re really there, as if your scent is the one thing keeping him grounded.

But then his head snaps up suddenly, and he cups your face in his hands.

“Let’s get married now.”

Your heart lurches, “What?”

His blue eyes are blazing with fury and excitement, and he sits up straight, nodding to himself, suddenly assured when just a moment ago he was losing it. “We’ll get married now, omega. We’ll go down to city hall and make it official right now. That’ll show that no good cuck of a beta, won’t it? That’ll show him what happens if he tries to fuck with me.”

“But Steve–”

“You said yes!” Steve whips his head in your direction, the sudden fierceness in his eyes making you cower back. He grabs your wrist tightly, “You said yes, omega. You said you’d marry me, and you’d be my wife. Mine. Not his.” He laughs maniacally, his grip crushing your wrist. “That stupid son-of-a-bitch, thinks he can make assumptions about us? Well, I’ll fucking show him.”

“We can’t just get married right this second because you want to prove something to him!” You blurt out before cringing backwards, hoping your words don’t set him off. “I know you could’ve hurt Peter really bad, Steve, but you walked away. And that meant everything to me, and you can’t just act impulsively now because you want to hurt him. You’ve done that before, Steve. You did that with me.”

You scrunch your eyes shut for just a moment, the memory of him telling you how he’d cheated on you the night you two had fought. It took a special kind of cruelty to exact such a calculated punishment, and you so wanted to believe he wasn’t that person anymore. Hadn’t he shown that by walking away from hurting Peter?

Fire and ice. It’s the only way you can describe Steve’s gaze as he looks at you. There’s frozen fire in his blue eyes, and a look that’s cold as steel. It contrasts against the rage that has his cheeks reddening as his grip on your wrist only tightens.

But then he relaxes, thumb stroking your hand as he brings it up to his lips, pressing warm kisses to your skin. It’s insane, because a second ago he was ready to commit a murder – Steve’s back and forth emotions are giving you whiplash.

“Baby,” He breathes, “I love you, okay? I love you so fucking much, do you understand that? I want you to be my wife, and that has nothing to do with him.”

Again, he cups your face and pulls you close, and the proximity calms your beating heart. You lean into his touch, explosions of summer sun like invisible fireworks all around you. His scent is reeling you in how it always does, and you’re diving in head-first like you always do. His thumbs stroke your cheekbones as he looks at you with eyes that are tender yet still slightly crazed.

“I love you.” He repeats, sounding meaningful. And then he looks at you expectantly, as if he’s waiting with baited breath. Waiting for you to say something back? But the moment is fleeting, and Steve pulls away and diverts his gaze, coughing slightly.

“Let’s go get married.” He starts up the car, and the engine revving to life is what knocks you out of your reverie, and you grab his arm once more.

“Steve, wait! You need at least two witnesses if you want to get married.”

“So what? I’ll call Sam and someone else. Or we’ll grab two random people off the street.”

“My mom doesn’t even know that I have a boyfriend! How can we get married without her knowing?!”

“Your mom won’t care–” Steve cuts himself off quickly, but his words sting all the same. You bite your lip in dismay, but he grabs your hand and gives it a squeeze, before adding softly, “Just text her and let her know.”

“I would like to tell her in person, Steve.” You plead. You know you’re stalling, trying to delay marrying him right at this moment. Why? Well, there were a plethora of reasons. It was too soon, you were too confused, and yes, you genuinely wanted your mother to know before you took such a huge step in life.

The alpha sighs, finally relaxing, but the determined, slightly crazed look in his eyes still remains.

“Fine. First thing tomorrow, we’ll go see your mother. And then immediately after that, we’re going to get married.”

***

You expect it to be dark and gloomy, but the sun is shining brightly the next day as you and Steve prepare to leave. And the nerves bubble up inside you like an incensed swarm of butterflies. Things were moving so fast… Two days ago, you weren’t even talking to Steve. And now you were taking him back home, back to where you grew up. Back to your mother. What could possibly go wrong?

The butterflies grow more frenzied.

“After we tell your mom, we’ll immediately head back to the city, where we’ll tell my parents. Your mom can come too, if she wants.” Steve says, locking the front door and leading you to his car. “Then, we’ll go to city hall and get married.”

You nod slowly, wishing your heart would stop pounding so hard. He made it sound so easy, checking everything off like a to-do list. Everything’s happening so fast, and yet you feel like you’re wading through quick sand as you walk down the driveway with your hand intertwined with Steve’s. You hadn’t heard from your mom since you left for university, and that was ages ago. You’d texted her on and off every few weeks, including last night to inform her you were coming back, but she was always too busy with work to ever reply. She didn’t know a thing about you – not that you and Steve were dating, certainly not that you were now engaged, and definitely not that you were pregnant.

Would she even care?

You get the sudden urge to cup your belly, but Steve’s words knock you out of your reverie.

“Omega, what the hell is all this?”

You blink, seeing his eyes trained on the little basket in your hand.

“Oh. I packed us some lunch for the trip.” You’d been so wound up all night that you’d awoken early to pack a bag full of homemade meatball subs, potato salad and several little boxes of apple juice. “It’s a long drive, so I figured we could use it. I also, uh, calculated our driving shifts.”

Steve squints down at you, “What?”

“W-Well, it’s a long journey, so I figured you could drive for the first half, then I could take over–”

“Omegas don’t drive.”

And with that stone-faced remark, Steve lifts you up into the passenger seat of his car. Before he clicks your seatbelt in place, you twist around to put your basket in the backseat before taking Steve Junior out from where he was tucked under your jacket. You place him beside the basket and his coal black eyes stare back at you as his precariously-stitched head lolls to the side. You didn’t feel right leaving him in Steve’s room while you travelled so far away. This way, he was close to his parents, and safe from any crazy men who might behead him for a second time.

The journey is quiet, and not even the cheery morning show host’s voice blaring out the radio can blanket the silence between the two of you. Because what more is there to say when yesterday’s events could’ve been ripped straight out of a telenovela? Your pregnancy, then Steve’s proposal, then the whole scuffle with Peter which had ended with a string full of damning words that had affected Steve a lot more than you thought they would.

“Why are you being so quiet?” Steve demands after ten minutes of no conversation. You jolt, staring at him with wide, wary eyes. He was being quiet too, but you know better than to say that to him.

“I’m sorry.”

The alpha sighs, “Don’t apologise.”

You almost instinctively apologise once more, before stopping yourself just in time. But you don’t know what else to say to him. Do you just go back to being normal after everything that had just happened? What even was “normal” with Steve? You can’t even remember the last time you’d had a proper conversation with him. One that wasn’t intense or emotional or filled with accusations and hurt. So, where do you go from there?

“Let’s play a game.” Steve says after a further ten minutes of silence and you staring out the window at the scenery, and you almost raise an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic suggestion. You peak over at him, and he’s staring straight ahead. His eyebrows are knotted and lips pursed, as if he himself is uncomfortable to a certain degree.

“A game?”

“Yes. You ask me a question and I have to answer honestly. And then I’ll do the same with you.” Steve says, sounding like he’s reading instructions off a manual. His “game” sounds simple enough, but you still can’t help but be wary.

“I…uh…I don’t know what to ask.” You confess and Steve huffs.

“Just do it.” He orders you.

“Okay, uh, wh-what’s your favourite colour?” You blurt out, immediately feeling stupid.

Steve rolls his eyes, “That’s not what I meant, omega.”

“I’m sorry.”

You turn back to your window, watching the scenic landscape go whizzing by and hating yourself for being so awkward. It was a wonder he didn’t rescind his marriage proposal right then and there, because you couldn’t even play his game right and it was such a simple game to begin with and –

“It’s blue.” Steve coughs.

The corners of your mouth quirk up. “Oh. I knew that. A lot of your favourite shirts are blue. They match your eyes.” You sit up straighter and glance at him but his expression is impenetrable as always. “My favourite colour is yellow–”

“You can’t answer your own question.” Steve interrupts. “And you can’t ask a question that you already know the answer to.”

“Oh. Of course, sorry…” You deflate, wanting the buttery leather car seat to swallow you up whole. You’ve been feeling extra sensitive lately, for obvious reasons, and your fingers itch for Steve Junior to calm your nerves. You really wish you’d kept him in the front with you.

“My turn.” Steve says after a while, right when you think he’s abandoned the game. There’s a pause before the car reaches a red light and comes to a halt, and he turns to look at you.

“Are you in love with Peter?”

He spits the question out like each word is pumped full of acid, and his blue eyes bore into yours as he waits for an answer. You can see his fingers already tapping at the steering wheel impatiently and you gulp. You weren’t expecting his question to be so loaded off the bat.

“Wh-What?”

“You heard me. Are you in love with him? Is that why you were kissing him yesterday?”

Your jaw drops open, “Is that what you think??”

“That’s what I saw.”

“I did not kiss him back.” You say firmly, a part of you not even caring if he believes you or not at this point.

“You didn’t?”

“No, Steve. I told him I wanted to stay with you.” And now he’ll probably never speak to me again.

Steve pauses as if to mull over this information, and he seems to look somewhat touched before a smirk tugs at his mouth, “Well, of course you didn’t kiss him back, and of course you want to stay with me. I knew that.” But you notice how his shoulders relax and his jaw untenses, and he exhales in relief before–

“Well? Answer my original question, omega. Are you in love with him?”

“N-No–”

“Be honest!”

You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts and give him a proper answer. “I don’t love him. He was my best friend and we used to hang out together all the time. We’d watch movies and study together and play computer games. I guess we both thought that since we liked each other’s company so much, that we might as well start dating. It was my first relationship and it was sweet. But I’m not in love with him. I don’t think I was with him long enough to explore that, but even if I had been, I think I knew deep down that I could only ever love him as a friend.”

You’re surprised at your own eloquence, and how you’ve finally put your jumbled thoughts and feelings into words. It’s like a weight lifted off your shoulders, but you’re still wary of Steve. In the past, you were never allowed to mention Peter or allude to your relationship with him.

But Steve only nods, relief flooding his features once more, “Yeah? Well, I already knew that. I knew you could never love him.”

“Oh... Well, I thought you said we weren’t allowed to ask questions we already knew the answer to?”

He shoots you a look and rolls his eyes while you turn to look out the window to hide your own smile. You can feel those butterflies creeping up inside you again, fluttering like crazy and making you feel shyer than ever. You only look back when he squeezes your leg.

“You could watch movies with me too, you know.” Steve says.

“I never thought you’d want to.”

The light turns green and the drive continues, as does the game. Now it’s your turn once more.

“Why did you – uh –” You play with the string of your hoodie, wondering whether you should bring this up. But he’d asked you a question about your ex, so you could do the same. “Did you promise Sharon everything that you promised me? About taking care of her and starting a family?”

Steve sighs, “Is that what she told you?”

“Is it true?” You whisper, not sure if you even wanted to know the answer.

“Look, I was with Sharon for two years. Things change as time passes.”

His answer is vague and unsatisfactory, and you feel yourself straighten up in your seat. “So, two years from now, you’ll change your mind about me too?” And our child?

“No, because you’re different. Everything I said to you was true. About how I wanted you to be the mother of my children, how I promised to take care of you. Ask me again in ten years, and none of that will change.” He inhales deeply, “I told Sharon that I wanted a wife and a family to take care of. But I never explicitly said that I wanted that with her. She never made me feel…”

His voice trails off, but your curiosity gets the best of you. And despite your reserved nature around him, you can’t help but clutch his arm and squeeze.

“She never made you feel what?”

He scrunches his eyes shut for a second, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. Another long exhale and then:

“Nothing, okay? You can’t ask multiple questions, omega. That’s not how this game works. But to answer your original question: No, I didn’t promise any of that to her. She was just bitter that I dumped her, and she took it out on you. And I’ll make sure she pays for that.”

You sit back, not knowing how to feel. It all boils down to the same thing you’ve been asking yourself for a while now: do you trust his word?

The drive continues on for miles and miles. The two of you settle into another short period of silence, but this time it’s more comfortable. You even pluck up the courage to turn the radio back on, engulfing the car in upbeat pop music that makes Steve frown and huff and roll his eyes. But he lets it play, and the melodious crooning of Taylor Swift accompanies you all the way to the gas station.

Steve polishes off his meatball subs in the gas station parking lot after filling up the car, whilst you and Steve Junior watch him. He offers you a sandwich too, but the smell of both the subs and the potato salad is making you queasy, so you politely decline.

“Well, you have to eat something.” He frowns.

“I’m okay.”

“It’s not a request, omega, you’re eating for two now. And why would you pack these sandwiches if you weren’t going to eat one?”

You shrug, trying to hold your nausea at bay. “I wanted it in the morning but now I don’t want it anymore.”

“That’s ridiculous. Just eat it!”

“No!”

“Do what I tell you and eat it!” He thrusts the sandwich into your hand.

“No, please! I don’t want to!” You blanche as the bile rises up to your throat.

Throwing up in a gas station bathroom in the middle of nowhere is a humbling experience, to say the least. You thank your lucky stars that you have your toothbrush in your purse, because the amount of grime and filth covering the toilet has you heaving everything out. You’d thought you’d lucked out this morning when you hadn’t had your usual bout of morning sickness. Well, it was here now, and with a vengeance. You throw up for what feels like an eternity, and then clean and freshen yourself up before emerging from the bathroom, feeling sheepish and embarrassed.

Steve drags you into the nearby convenience store after that, determined to get you to eat something to fill up your now empty stomach. You’re hesitant at first, but soon point to what you want and let him buy it for you. And then he sits in the car and watches you munch on a hot pickle dipped in peanut butter and a small bag of ice chips.

“You’re actually enjoying that?” He asks in disbelief.

“Yes, I like it.” You hold the pickle out to him. “Would you like some?”

Steve makes a face before the two of you share a look. You don’t know whether he cracks a smile first or if it’s you. But you do know that this is new, uncharted territory between you two – much like how this whole day has been. It’s in the little things, how his smile seems sweet rather than smug. How you’re able to hold eye contact with him longer than you’ve ever been able to before. How he’s talking to you like you’re a person, instead of an object that he wants to manipulate.

“I think I’ll pass.” He says, and you shrug, taking another deliciously satisfying bite of the pickle. And you’re so engrossed in how good it tastes (especially with the peanut butter) that you don’t even notice when Steve leans over the console and plants a kiss on your forehead.

“You’re cute.” He says, his cheeks blushed pink in a way you’ve never seen them before, and you can feel the tips of your ears growing hot and a fluttering spark deep in your tummy. And then he coughs and straightens back into his seat, shaking his head as if he’s trying to clear it. You continue to munch on your pickle while he checks the GPS and clears his throat.

“Let’s get going. We’re almost at your mother’s house.”

The rest of the drive goes by in a blur, and as the time passes and the roads grow familiar, the light-hearted feeling in your chest is replaced with one of dread and foreboding. Just seeing the signs leading to your hometown brings back a mixed bag of memories. Ranging from good ones (mainly involving Peter and school) to bad ones (everything else). And your stomach churns in anticipation when Steve finally parks his car in front of your childhood home.

“It’s not much.” You say as you reach out to ring the doorbell, gingerly brushing away stray cobwebs from the brass, hoping Steve didn’t see them, “And my mom is usually too tired to clean, so it’ll be a mess in there probably.” You take a deep breath before turning to face him, “Look. I… I know it’s not as fancy as what you’re used to, but p-please don’t judge it, okay?”

Steve, who up until this moment had been busy surveying the almost decrepit looking street crammed full of houses on the verge of falling apart, frowns back at you. “I wouldn’t judge.”

“Thank you.” You say quietly, although you feel extremely embarrassed. Steve is undoubtedly used to the grandeur and lavish lifestyle that most of the people at your university lead. You know he probably gets more money in his monthly allowance than your mother would see in a year.

But this was where you’d grown up, this tiny house which resembled more of a cottage, with its two rooms and leaky roof and creaky doors. The house you’d so desperately tried to make into a home, learning to cook and clean and sew at a young age just so you could spruce things up at home while your mother worked six – maybe seven – days a week and her boyfriend of the month sat at home and drank, and…

You blink it all away, ringing the doorbell again but no one answers. Nervously, you bite your lip and glance back at Steve, who has an arm protectively around your waist as if he thinks something might burst out from inside and attack you.

“Mom’s probably at work.” You explain, gnawing at your lip.

“What does she do again?”

“She’s a waitress.” You say sharply, your tone starkly defensive. Suddenly, you’re transported back to the beginning of freshman year – Steve and his gang smirking and laughing at you about everything, from your hand-me-down clothes to your scuffed sneakers. Would they have had a field day with the knowledge that your mom was a waitress? When all their parents were bankers, businessman, doctors and lawyers? “Why are you asking me that?”

“Restaurants would all be shut at this time.”

“Well, maybe she’s asleep. She works really, really hard, okay?” You can’t help as your voice grows more high-pitched; your tone more distressed. It’s like the past few hours of easy conversation with him all evaporated as soon as you entered this house. Your defences are now coming up higher and higher – the same defences that had slowly corroded and crumbled through incessant bullying throughout the year. But this is your home, your turf, your mother – you can’t help but be defensive.

“Baby, are you okay?” Steve asks softly, and it’s still so strange to be faced with this side of him. This softer, kinder side that almost seems to have manifested overnight. It’s like half of you is still on high-alert, waiting for him to burst out laughing. Waiting for him to get his phone out and take pictures of the poverty surrounding him and send them to everyone he knows. Instead, his warm hand rubs your back soothingly and you don’t know what to think.

“I’m fine.” You sound so clipped, it’s strange. You know you shouldn’t be speaking to him like this, and in the past, he would’ve warned you for being short with him. But right now, he doesn’t say anything as you both wait at the front door, with you shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

Finally, you sigh, reassuring yourself that your mother is probably just at work or asleep inside as you bend down and reach under the dirty welcome mat, thanking your lucky stars that the spare key is still there.

Steve tenses his jaw, “That’s not safe, omega.”

You don’t answer, because what robber would ever come to your house? What exactly would they steal? You don’t have time to mull over it before Steve snatches the key from you, grabbing your hand and stepping in front of your body like a human shield. He unlocks the door and slowly steps inside with you following on his tail.

“Mom,” You call out, trying to flip on the lights except they aren’t working. That’s nothing new – sometimes your mom was late to pay the bill and so they’d cut the electricity out, but it’s embarrassing for it to happen now, with Steve here. “Mom? It’s me! I’m home!”

Your voice echoes around the room, but there’s no response. Steve turns his phone’s flashlight on, shining it around and revealing the stark, dusty furniture. The stained carpet and cracked coffee table loaded with empty takeaway containers. You always kept the place neat and tidy when you lived here: surfaces gleaming and fresh flowers on the table, but clearly your mother and her boyfriend haven’t kept that up since you moved to college.

“Mom? Didn’t you hear me? I’m home! And my – uh – my boyfriend’s here too.” You cough and try not to look at Steve when you say that part; it still gives you butterflies when you refer to him as your boyfriend. Or fiancé. Father of your baby? Your mother has no idea about any of that, and you try to ignore the wobble in your voice, “I-I know I was supposed to come home as soon as the term ended, but a lot of things came up. There’s – uh – there’s a lot of things I need to tell you, mom.”

No response, and the door to your mother’s bedroom is ajar.

“Omega, I don’t think anyone’s at home–”

You ignore him, and it feels like you’re wading through wet cement as you make your way over to her bedroom. Creaking the door open and seeing it empty, bedsheets stripped and drawers hanging open and closet left ajar too. All empty. No clothes, bags, shoes, anything. A gasp dies in your throat and you shut the door and step back, bumping into Steve’s hard chest.

“Is she in there?” He asks, although his eyes seem to know the answer.

“She’s still at work.” You answer brightly, clearing your throat to get rid of the lump, blinking several times as a wide smile plasters itself on your face. “She’s just at work.” You repeat, diverting your eyes when he gives you a concerned look. “She’s probably working late – maybe she got a new job where she has longer hours.”

Steve sighs, “Omega–”

“We could kill some time till she comes back. Please, let’s just…” You take a deep breathe, “Maybe we can go into my room?” You drag him away from your mother’s door and to the one right next to it. Your room. And Steve is about to say something but stops short when you open your door and lead him inside, and he grips your dresser, inhaling deeply.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and his eyes flutter shut, long lashes fanning his face. He looks so big in your tiny room – it’s about the size of a closet, much smaller than your dorm room. And with your bed, your dresser and your closet, there isn’t much space to walk or even stand for one person, let alone you and your 6’6 framed alpha.

“Your scent is everywhere in here.” Steve says, sniffing the air greedily before impulsively tugging you flush again him. The embrace comes out of nowhere, but you still feel the goosebumps you always do whenever he does things like this. And you let him hold you, relaxing against his comforting arms despite the alarm bells ringing at the back of your head.

“I grew up in here.” You answer quietly, still in his embrace as you turn around, back against his front and he wraps his arms around your waist. “I only moved out months ago, but it feels like ages since then. Like so much has happened, and this is a whole different life.” You reach down to stroke your pink bedsheets – they look exactly how you’d left them – and you imagine the ghost of a younger girl who’d hide in here and study to drown out the sounds of drunken fighting coming from outside.

Steve draws away from you, distracted by the contents of your bedroom. There isn’t much left, but you’ve still got a bunch of books and some tiny knick-knacks lying around on your desk. And you’re momentarily transported back to that first day as you watch him rifle through your things just like he’d done when he’d come over for that tutoring session.

“Aw look, it’s baby omega’s diary.” Steve grins, grabbing a tiny, worn-out yellow journal and flipping through it, making you snap out of it and frown.

“Hey! Give that back!” You lunge for it, embarrassed and not wanting him to read your childish wishes and whims that you’d jotted down over the years. But Steve is much too tall, much too strong, and easily holds the journal out of your reach. He opens it to a random page, his voice comically high-pitched as he reads your words out loud.

“Dear diary, we got our math test results back today and I got a B. I cried for a while but it just means I have to study harder.” Steve chuckles, “Wow, omega, you were a huge nerd even back then.”

“Please give it back.”

“No way, we’re killing time, remember?” He flips to a different page, “Dear diary, the classroom hamster died today and nobody else seemed to feel sad about it.” He snorts, “Cute.”

“Steve–”

“Dear diary, mom’s new boyfriend is really scary. Sometimes he stares at me…”

Steve’s voice trails off, but his eyes remain glued to the page, fingers almost crushing the old journal to dust as he grips it hard, and you swallow uncomfortably, blinking away bad memories. Oh, why had you written all that down? Journals were meant to store memories and you didn’t want to remember that…

Brows furrowed yet expression still unreadable, Steve finally sets the diary down. “What is this about?”

You shrug, diverting your gaze.

He draws you closer again, his face distraught, and you wonder whether you’re in trouble. And you know that’s insane – why would you be in trouble? – but you can’t help but worry all the same, the lump in your throat growing bigger and bigger. Steve’s hand cups your cheek, stroking it lightly and tipping your face upwards to meet his gaze.

“Did he touch you? Your mother’s boyfriend?”

“No.”

“I’ll find him and kill him if he did.” His threat is serious despite the gentleness of his tone, and his thumb strokes your cheekbones, and the heat that’s always radiating from him is almost like a hug, almost like he’s cocooning you in a warm whirlpool of safety, where the only man there is him, him, him. Just him.

“He didn’t. And there were a lot of boyfriends – they’d come and go.” You focus on Steve’s chest, not being able to look into his eyes. “One of them hit me once, because it was dinnertime and he ate my mom’s portion too and I thought that was so unfair. So I spoke up.” A bitter laugh escapes your throat, you can still remember how your cheek had stung with pain. “Well, I learnt never to do that again, and now I have this stupid stutter every time I do speak up in front of people.”

You stare out the window, at the desolate patch of dead grass outside and the ghost of a little girl playing there to escape the monsters inside the house.

“Most of my mom’s boyfriends hated me, but some of them would stare.” You scrunch your eyes for a moment before opening them and forcing out another laugh, “That’s why I wore those huge hoodies that you hate so much. It made them stare less, and then I guess I just got used to wearing them all the time.”

You wish with all your heart that you could read the expression on Steve’s face, or maybe read his mind and know what he’s thinking in this moment. But he only stares at you, and he stares and stares and stares, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Let’s go from here.” He says finally, “Your mother clearly isn’t here and you’re getting tired. I need to take you home.” He grabs your arm, pulling you out the door but you dig the soles of your feet into the ground, shaking your head.

“No, Steve, please. She’s probably almost back!”

“You’ve had a long day, omega, and you’re wearing yourself out. You’re pregnant now so you need to be careful about these things. Don’t argue with me.”

The tears well up in your eyes before you can stop them, and the lump in your throat gets bigger and bigger. It’s no secret that your pregnancy has made you more emotional, but a small part of you wants to stubbornly lock yourself in your childhood room and wait for her to come home, no matter what your alpha tells you to do, no matter what you know deep down in your heart…

She’s not coming home… The voice at the back of your head is beguiling and mocking at the same time, but you forcibly ignore it with everything inside you.

“Please. I haven’t spoken to her for months. She… She doesn’t even know about you, Steve! Let alone the fact that we’re gonna be married, or that I’m pregnant. And she deserves to know–” Your voice breaks, and you will yourself to be brave but the tears are already halfway down your face, “She’s my mother, Steve. She deserves to know.”

Steve sighs, “Fine. An hour and then we’re leaving.”

It’s progress, because before he wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of listening to you. You give him a small smile of gratitude before taking a seat on your bed – he’s right, you are tired. There are so many aspects of your pregnancy that you’re yet to get used to: the unpredictability of your emotions, the nausea, the soreness, how tired you feel sometimes. Maybe it’s something you could discuss with your mother; a talking point, a bit of common ground. You sigh as your heart pitter-patters – why isn’t she home yet?

Steve resumes looking through your things – he really seems to like doing that. You watch as he rummages through your old scented candles which are all burnt down and used up, your pens which have dried out and your other stationary, your old clothes which are too small for you now. You wonder what exactly he finds so interesting about all this, and then he finds a stack of old photographs inside your drawer.

Quietly, he comes over and sits next to you, sifting through the pictures.

“That’s me when I was a few days old.” You point out when he pauses at a picture of a baby swaddled in white cloth. You’re gazing imploringly up at the camera, eyes big and tearful, with your tiny fists waving in the air. “My mom said I cried a lot as a baby.”

“Well, that hasn’t changed.” Steve snorts before a hesitant smile crosses his features, “You were cute.”

You shrug. There aren’t many more pictures from your childhood; none of you as a toddler or any as you got older. These baby pictures were all you had, and Steve quickly stores them in the inner pocket of his leather jacket.

It’s like there’s a big grandfather clock inside your head, and each tick is a mocking laugh as the time passes. You and Steve leave your room, and you take a firm seat on the couch, eyes trained on the door with a concentration nothing could possibly break. Steve sits beside you for a handful of moments before he grows restless, huffing and shaking his head. But every time his gaze fixes on you, it softens. And whatever words he’s got on the tip of his tongue seem to die in his throat.

Ten minutes pass. And then another ten. It’s almost pitch black all around you, except for the light from Steve’s phone. The alpha gets to his feet and resorts to pacing, but you block it all out. There’s nothing in your mind except for: she’s going to come home, she’s going to come home, she’s going to come home! Any minute now…

From your peripheral, you can see Steve make his way into the open kitchen, the space looking largely unused. You vaguely wonder who has been cooking since you’ve been gone. Who’s been cleaning through the cloud of depression that fogs this place? Who’s been making this house feel like a home since you’ve been gone?

It’s not a home anymore, she’s not coming back! The voice in your head sings but you’ve become good at pushing the thoughts out now.

“Omega.” Steve’s voice, loud, clear and serious, cuts through the war going on inside your head. “Look at this. There’s a letter here. For you.”

No. No. No. No. What letter? There was no letter.

“Steve, I’m waiting for my mom right now.” You answer unwaveringly, eyes locked on the door despite this horrific feeling slowly invading your bloodstream like poison.

You hear his footsteps before he sits back down beside you, his arm going around you and you feel his warmth but there’s also this foreboding type of chill within you. Just keep your eyes on the door, she’ll walk in any moment now.

“I think you should read this. It’s got your name on it.” Steve sounds oddly gentle, but like he’s miles away. Yet you only stare at the door, because you don’t want to look at the paper in his hand. Looking at it would make it real, and reality is almost always accompanied by pain. And there was already so much pain inside you, wasn’t there? No, no, no. There was no letter. You were waiting for your mother to come home. She always came home. Drunk, angry, upset, depressed – she always came home.

“I told you that I’m waiting for my mom right now.” Is it really you who sounds so clipped and dismissive? With just that little bit of desperation hanging off the end of your words, as if begging him, willing him to put the letter away? To pretend it’s not there? And that everything’s okay? And that you’re not moments away from crushing, mind-numbing despair?

Instead, you hear the rustle of parchment, knowing Steve’s unfolding the paper. He’s reading whatever is written on it. And you try and focus on the brass doorknob, waiting for it to turn. Willing it to turn but it remains rigid as ever, and you can hear Steve’s sharp intake of breath as he reads the contents of the letter, before he grabs your arm.

“Omega. Listen to me. We’re going home. Right now.” Steve says. But it’s when he stands up and tugs you up with him, that you feel the elastic band inside you snap. The band that was just about holding you together, breaking apart and tearing your insides apart along with it.

“FUCK OFF, STEVE! Can’t you see I’m waiting for my mom? She’s running late but she’ll be home any minute. Maybe you don’t know what it means to have a hardworking parent who works long hours, but if you want to go home, then just go! I’M NOT COMING WITH YOU BECAUSE I’M WAITING FOR HER!”

Never before have you yelled at him this badly, but you don’t even brace yourself for his anger or whatever punishment he’ll undoubtedly throw your way. You’re too distracted by the dread piling up inside you, threatening to shatter away that tiny sliver of hope that you still cling to. Stubbornly, you sink back down on the couch, crossing your arms over your chest and once more locking your eyes on the front door. She’ll come home. Any minute now. She’ll be here.

You can see Steve’s hands ball into fists, and you hear him take several breaths before he gets down on his knees in front of you. For a split second, you look into his clear blue eyes, seeing your own reflection staring back at you. Why do you look so scared? So haunted? So alone? But then you blink and look back at the door, doing everything to just block him out, even when he gently cups your face and his thumbs stroke your cheeks.

“Baby, she’s not coming back.” He says it so tenderly, but then why does each word feel like a sharp knife twisting into your stomach?

“Yes, she is.”

“No. She’s not.” And he presses the paper into your limp hand. And now you can feel it, and if you can physically feel something, then how long until you have to stop denying its existence? “The letter says that she –”

“Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop –”

“It says that she left, omega.”

“NO!”

For one feral second, you get the urge to crumple the letter in your hand and throw it far away. To another dimension, if that was possible. And then just continue staring at the door, willing your mother to come home and prove Steve wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong! But the sane part of your brain that’s trying desperately to keep you grounded makes sure that the paper remains in your fingers. And with a shaky hand, you slowly bring it up so you can read it:

I don’t know if you’ll even see this, but it’s worth a shot. Look, I just needed to get out of here, okay? And I’ve got a new man, he’s got a place up in Minnesota. He’s not like the rest of them, he says he’ll take care of me real good. I just need a fresh start, to get away from all this bullshit. And you’ve always been able to take care of yourself better than I could ever take care of you. Who knows, with your fancy college degree, you probably aren’t ever coming back home. I wouldn’t blame you, Lord knows this ain’t a home and hasn’t been since your father left. I don’t know how to end this, so, I guess this is goodbye.

Your mother.

As the words sink in, you feel like you’re having an out of body experience. It’s like you can see yourself. Abandoned girl left alone in her abandoned home. Nobody cares if you hurt. Nobody cares about you. Everyone leaves. You hear a giggle and whip your head to the side. A ghost of a young girl playing in the shadows, not knowing what sorrow lay in store for her. A girl who once thought of this place as her home, despite all the terror, all the screaming. Despite the harrowing stench of booze and the men that came and went. A girl who was never allowed to forget that her father left her, but never once considered that her mother would leave too.

An ear-piercing, glass shattering scream leaves your mouth. Your lips curl, and then you let out another one. You scream and scream and scream, incoherent and crazed as your emotions finally pour out. Heart-shattering sadness like how you’ve never felt before, so much so that Steve grabs your shoulders and it doesn’t even register to you. It’s all swirling up inside of you and coming out: hurt, sadness, despair, and… Anger.

Some other-worldly strength overtakes you, and you shrug out of Steve’s grip. Grabbing the nearest object from the coffee table, you hurl it at your mother’s abandoned bedroom door with all your might. And then you’re pounding at her door, fists numb to the pain as you punch at the old, creaking wood before Steve’s strong arms grab you by the waist and pull you back.

“I did everything to make you happy, Mom!” You cry, as if it’s her in front of you and not just her bedroom door. “I tried everything to make up for him leaving! I’m the one who cooked and cleaned while you drank! And kept my mouth shut and stayed out of your way! I loved you even when you chose your boyfriends over me! Even wore big clothes so they’d stop staring at me, because I knew it made you angry! I did everything I could, Mom! SO WHY WAS IT NEVER ENOUGH?”

Suddenly, you can’t stand to be inside this dark house. Again, twisting out of Steve’s grip, you dart towards the front door, throwing it open and being met with the cool night breeze. You gasp, breathing as if you haven’t breathed in ages, and that’s when the tears start coming out.

You sink to the ground, which is just a patch of dried-up grass, crying for everything you’ve lost, for everything you never had. Crying for the little girl who grew up in a house that was never a home, and most of all, you cry for the unwavering hope that remained in her innocent heart – in your heart – and how the cruel world around you had snatched it away, chewed it up and spat it back out till it was nothing more than a husk.

Loud, ugly sobs wrack through you. You clutch at the dead grass, ripping it out and scattering it like a madwoman, like someone who’s reached the end of the end and doesn’t know what to do now. You can hear Steve behind you, quiet as if he’s in shock. And then he comes to sit on the ground beside you, his lips parted and his eyes glazed, and he lets you cry as if he knows you need to get it out of you.

And you both just sit there, two kids on a patch of dead, brown grass. Somewhere in between your screams and cries, Steve’s hand slips over yours, squeezing tightly.

You’re still crying softly when he finally picks you up, hugging your limp body close to his chest.

“Let’s go home.” He says firmly.

You look up at him sorrowfully, and you can see the moon twinkling in his eyes. There’s darkness all around you, but through your vision, blurred by your tears, it’s like he’s got a fiery halo around him. And maybe it’s just the dingy streetlights reflecting off of his pale skin as he walks you to his car, but it’s like he’s exuding this intense light. Safety. Warmth. Heat. You cuddle closer, but your lower lip quivers.

“I don’t have a home, Steve.”

He opens the car door and puts you inside, but he still holds on to you tightly, an almost earnest look on his face as he brushes your hair back.

“We’ll be each other’s home. Wherever you are, that’s where my home is. And wherever I am, I’ll take you with me. You’ll never hurt like this again. I promise, I’ll die before I see you hurt like this again.”

He sounds sincere, but you can feel yourself slipping away. Slipping into that dark place, darker than when Bucky had locked you outside of the house and the rain was peltering on your back like hard rocks. A billion times darker than that, and bleaker, like a sorrowful little hole where you just want to curl up in and die. Because what is there to live for when one by one, inevitably, everyone just leaves?

“I don’t want to live anymore.” You say quietly, more to yourself than to him. You close your eyes, willing yourself to somehow just slip and sink your way into blackness, into not existing anymore. “I just want it all to end, Steve. I just want to die.”

From the driver’s seat next to you, you feel a harsh grip on your upper arm. So hard that it pulls you back up to the surface from the metaphorical lake of sorrow you’re mentally trying to drown yourself in. And you see Steve staring at you with an expression of horror, anger and pity as he says your name again and again, sounding almost choked up as he does it.

“Don’t say that. I’ll find her for you. I’ll hire the best private investigator in the country, and they’ll find her and it won’t take long. They’ll find your father too, if that’s what you want.”

You shake your head, “It wouldn’t matter. They don’t want me.”

“Well, fuck them both. I want you.”

You don’t reply, and he shakes you hard before pulling you into a desperate embrace, his hand cupping the back of your head as he holds you against his chest harder than he ever has before.

“I won’t survive without you, okay? I know this isn’t about me but you’re the love of my life and I can’t live without you. I need you with me, okay? Okay?”

There’s a certain desperation in Steve’s tone, as if he’s seen you go to hell and back before and doesn’t want to see a repeat of it. Like he desperately wants to keep you from succumbing to the darkness that’s trying to pull you in like how it had before in the bathtub weeks ago. But you just feel limp in his arms, thinking back to the empty dresser in your mother’s room and how she’d only left you a letter. A piece of paper and that was it.

“Stay with me, okay? I’m sorry for being a fucking jerk and making your life miserable when you were already suffering so much. Just… Just please, don’t shut me out like before. I need you to stay with me.” Steve shakes you again, “I’ll be better, alright? I’ll be better for you and our baby. I’ll give you the life you deserve and I know I’ve been making all these promises but I mean it this time, okay? I just need you to stay with me, omega. You don’t need your mom or your dad, because they’re shitty people and they never deserved you. And you have me. And you’ll always have me, baby. I promise, okay? I promise.”

You sag in his arms, feeling so emotionally exhausted that you’re numb. But his words pierce deep down through all of that, sparking something in your heart through the heavy shrouds of hurt and pain. You remember back when you’d felt this numbness before, in the bathtub after being locked out. Steve had remained silent then, but he wasn’t being silent anymore. Oh, he was giving you hope!

You kick away at the grim reaper’s bony hands that try to grab at you, that are trying to drag you down that same path of sorrow and loneliness. Maybe you’re tired or just delirious from everything you’ve just been through, but Steve’s face radiates with light like the sun. Maybe he is the sun? But it doesn’t hurt to look at him, in fact, it’s the opposite. You feel warmth, fuzziness and lightness cut through and corrode the numbness away. And slowly, fighting through the pain, you surface up and hug him back.

“Stay with me.” Steve repeats.

“Okay. I’ll stay. But it still hurts so much.”

“I know, but I’ll make sure it all goes away.”

Your brain feels like sludge and your body feels like it’s moving through quicksand, but despite it all you manage to squeeze his hand. And then you close your eyes. All that yelling, screaming, and crying. You want to stay with him like how he asked, but you’re so tired, so exhausted.

“Can I sleep?”

He nods as if he understands, putting you back in the passenger seat and strapping your seatbelt on. “I’m right here, I’ll keep the nightmares away.”

You really hope he does, although what nightmare could be worse than your own mother leaving you?

His warm scent puts you to sleep, and before you fall under, you can see him looking over at you. He strokes your hair gently before starting the car up, and his next words are the last thing you hear before sleep takes you over:

“I’ll take care of you, omega. You’re my family now, and I’ll make it all up to you. I promise.”

***

PART II

You wake up on a king-sized bed, on a mattress as soft as a feather with a heavy duvet on top of you. Soft, satin sheets kiss against your skin, and you bathe in the luxurious feeling for about five seconds before the panic sets in. Panic because Steve isn’t next to you. Your eyes blink open, immediately drinking in an unfamiliar room.

It’s massive. And you know immediately that it’s Steve’s room. You can tell by his scent which is potently covering every object, and the warm heat it brings with it calms you down some. As does Steve Junior, who is also propped up in your arms along with a bunch of Steve’s clothes that have been folded and thrown around you.

Someone had made a makeshift nest for you.

You smile, imagining Steve doing that while you slept. You look around some more. Yes, this was definitely Steve’s room. Minimalistic furniture in different hues of black, white and grey. A large desk with Steve’s laptop on top of it, as well as a framed picture of a pretty woman who looked to be in her early-to-mid forties. His mother?

You get to your feet, limbs feeling sore and weak. The memories of yesterday are clawing inside your head, forcing you to remember but you keep them at bay for just a little while longer. Instead, you grab your phone to check the time, and find a text from Steve too.

Steve: I’ve gone out to take care of something. Don’t panic, I’ll probably be back by the time you wake up. There are some clothes in your size hung in the closet. Make yourself at home and if you need anything and I’m not there, just ask the maid.

You draw back the curtains and almost gasp out loud at the acres and acres of land you seem to be sitting in the midst of. Steve had told you his family owned a house in upstate New York, but this was more of a mansion. No, scratch that, it was an entire estate! With a sprawling savannah of grassy land surrounding it. Did Steve’s family really own all of this? You suddenly feel even more embarrassed about taking him to your former home yesterday. The Rogers family tool shed was probably bigger than your entire childhood home.

Speaking of the Rogers family, you gulp at the thought of meeting them. They’d be here, wouldn’t they? His parents? You catch a glimpse of yourself in the full-length, floor-to-ceiling mirror and wince. Hair poking out in all directions, yesterday’s makeup smudged. Eyes swollen from all the crying, lips bitten and peeling. You glance at Steve Junior, whose unwaveringly honest coal black gaze tells you all you need to know: you look like a sight for sore eyes.

Steve’s bathroom is by far the most lavish bathroom you’ve seen in all your life, with its intricate marble flooring and gleaming gold taps. It’s bigger than your entire living room back at your former home. It takes you a few minutes to figure out how to use the complicated shower, but it’s worth it when hot jets of water shoot at you from multiple directions, and you feel your muscles relax.

Haunting images from the night before flit in and out of your head. Your mother’s empty dresser, the note she had left you. Crying till your throat was hoarse, losing it outside on the patch of grass in front of the house you once called home. But you also remember Steve’s hand squeezing yours, and all the earnest promises he’d made before you’d drifted off to sleep, and you feel yourself calm down.

The sun shines through the window. It’s a new day and you’re in a new place. Miles and miles away from your mother’s deceit and betrayal. You dry off and open the closet, examining the clothes Steve had mentioned in his text. They’re all brand new; leggings and hoodies and sweaters along with branded skirts, blouses and dresses. You smile, selecting a cosy, plum-coloured sweatshirt and a pair of soft black leggings.

You look at your reflection in his mirror again. Better, but your eyes are still puffy, although there’s nothing you can do about that now. You give Steve Junior one last squeeze and kiss before propping him up in the middle of the bed and making your way out of the bedroom.

Within five minutes of exploring the mammoth house, you realise that navigating through a maze would likely be easier. You just can’t wrap your head around how Steve lived in what was essentially palace, at least in your eyes. Long hallways with thick, plush carpeting – was that where he’d run around as a child? Heavy curtains adorning huge windows, majestic architecture, marble floors, structured pillars, a ginormous grand staircase that reminded you of the one in the prince’s castle in Cinderella. There’s even a fountain in what you assume is the lobby of the whole house – an indoor fountain! Oh, the little girl you’d once been had always dreamed of living somewhere like this. You wonder if these majestic hallways have witnessed drunken mothers and their boyfriends with leering gazes. Probably not. You doubted this sprawling estate dripping with luxury and class had ever known any type of sadness or sorrow.

After walking by several private wings and bedrooms, you find yourself in the kitchen after a few minutes of exploring. You don’t want to be too nosy, but you can’t help it. Everything is tastefully decorated like it’s straight out of an interior design magazine, luxurious vintage furnishings mixed with touches of modernity here and there.

As if on cue, your tummy rumbles noisily. It’s already past noon, which means you’ve definitely overslept. Your hand goes up to cup your belly. “You’re impatient, aren’t you?” You whisper, stroking your stomach before you pause. Had you just spoken to… the baby? Gosh, you hadn’t ever done that before. In fact, there were moments where you felt disconnected from this pregnancy, as if you had yet to understand and accept what it was. It was awful to admit, but there were even moments where you forgot you were pregnant. Like yesterday at your mother’s house…

“Why, you must be Steve’s girlfriend.”

The voice, despite how soft it is, makes you jump. You turn around hastily, coming face to face with a middle-aged woman, and her warm brown eyes instantly remind you of the picture on Steve’s desk.

His mother.

You quickly clear your throat and smile in what you hope is a dignified manner. Immediately, your hands go to straighten any wrinkles in your clothes, and all the while you inwardly curse yourself for not wearing something prettier and more appropriate.

“I’m so sorry, hello, you must be…”

But your voice dies in your throat as you stare into a pale, sickly-looking face. The woman’s eyes still sparkle like the ones in the picture framed on Steve’s desk, but everything else is very different.

She looks incredibly thin and fragile, almost like she’d break if someone folded her in half. Her skin looks tinged a sickly yellow against her pretty pink sweater with elegant pearl buttons. Her clothes are smart and expensive-looking, but they seem to hang off her weak frame. Her face is gaunt, with no sign of the healthy plumpness you’d seen in the framed picture. But despite her appearance, she shoots you a kind smile and it makes her whole face light up.

“I’m Steve’s mother, yes.” She completes, adjusting the expensive-looking silk scarf she has wrapped around her head. “I was waiting for you to come down. The chef has made a lovely breakfast for you.”

You manage to snap out of your stupor, clearing your throat before you speak.

“Oh… uh… okay. Hello, Mrs. Rogers.” You introduce yourself, feeling incredibly awkward. You don’t quite know how to react to what you’re seeing in front of you. Why had Steve never mentioned…?

But Mrs. Rogers only smiles.

“You can call me Sarah, please. Come, let’s sit. I’m afraid I can’t stand for too long, and you must be very hungry.” She pauses, inhaling deeply as if her words have rendered her out of breath. After a handful of seconds, she continues. “You’ll have to help me, though. If you don’t mind.”

You rush to her side, grabbing her frail arm gently and allowing her to rest her weight on you. Her weight which is next to non-existent. It feels like you’re holding a doll. But she leads you to the lavish living room, where there’s an elaborate breakfast spread out on the ornate coffee table.

There are French omelettes and cheesy scrambled eggs and sunny side ups with deep orange yolks. A large pitcher of orange juice with ice, a pot of coffee and a crystal carafe of water. And that wasn��t even half of it – there were stacks of pancakes with knobs of butter and maple syrup dripping down them, and golden waffles with a variety of toppings including fresh berries and cream. Toast cut into elegant triangles, steaming bowls of oats with honey and nuts, and some English muffins with a jar of what looks to be homemade jam next to it.

You gulp as you help seat Mrs. Rogers down, the aroma of the food tingling inside your nostrils and making your mouth water and tummy rumble embarrassingly once more. Mrs. Rogers – Sarah – laughs, motioning for you to take a seat on the sofa adjacent to the armchair she’s sitting on.

“Please eat, darling.”

You’re too hungry to argue, grabbing a plate and a piece of toast. But Steve’s mother huffs, loading your plate with a bit of everything, until it’s heaving in your hands. You politely take a bite, wondering if there’s an elegant way to eat when all you really want to is shovel this food down your throat. But you try to be graceful, acutely aware of Mrs. Rogers beaming at you as you do.

“I’m so happy to finally meet the girl Steve has been so smitten over.” She gushes, “It’s about time I met a girlfriend of his, and you’re the first one he’s ever brought home.”

“Really?”

“Of course. He talks about you all the time.”

That makes you pause, and you swallow a bite of pancake before looking up at her. “Steve talked about me with you?” You whisper, the shock clearly evident in your tone.

You think back to the whirlwind two months you’ve been with Steve. He’d mentioned his parents a few times, but always as a collective, and he’d never given any details (You hadn’t pressed him because you were shy and also because it’s not like you were particularly forthcoming with details about your own parents). He’d certainly never mentioned that his mother was sick… and you’d never heard him talk to her on the phone or anything. He’d probably done it in private.

“Yes, through calls and emails.” Mrs. Rogers smiles, taking a delicately small sip of water, and your eyes linger on her frail hand as it shakes. “When he first went away for college, he used to come home to visit every other weekend. Not so much anymore, but I understand that he’s busy.” She shakes her head sadly before letting out a chuckle, “I suspect he’s scared to see me in person, considering my current state.”

Your heart sinks. Oh gosh, how had Steve kept something so big from you? How had it never come up?

Mrs. Rogers clears her throat, “Enough about me, my darling. Please, continue eating.” She pauses, either to catch her breath or to wait until you take another bite of food, which you do. “Even if he doesn’t come home as often as he used to, I still call him every week to keep up with his life, and I’ll admit I was shocked when he told me he’d bonded with someone. I told him it was impulsive, that you two were too young. But I’m the last one to question young love.”

She’s silent as she looks at you almost curiously. You can’t hold eye contact with her long, so you just keep your smile up before it eventually fades away, and you look down helplessly. Perhaps she was now seeing all the flaws in you as they surfaced before her eyes now that the two of you were past pleasantries. Flaws and shortcomings that had made your own mother leave you, now Steve’s mother would see them too.

And the images flit back into your head again, your mother’s empty dresser, the note she’d left you, the nonchalance with which she’d exited your life. You feel your lower lip wobble and tears well in your eyes. Oh no, don’t do this here! Not in front of Steve’s mom! Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it!

Mrs. Rogers is stronger than she looks, because before you know what’s happening, she draws you into a hug that is surprisingly tight. You’re rigid in her arms for a second, not knowing how to react. Why was she hugging you? This was weird… You’d never really hugged anyone before, apart from Steve and Peter – but that was different.

It only takes you a few seconds before you sag in her arms. And then the tears won’t stop, and it’s crazy! How could you be crying in the arms of a woman whose problems were so evidently larger than your own? Because at least you had your health! But it feels so alien, how gentle she’s being. How she strokes your hair and whispers “there, there,” to you soothingly.

“I’m sorry, this is so inappropriate of me…I just met you…” You apologise between tears, but she just shushes you.

“Don’t worry, darling. I can tell that you’ve been through a lot and there’s a lot on your mind.” She strokes your hair out of your face and she gives you a reassuring smile. “Is my son the reason for your tears? I know he can be a bit… controlling. He gets that from his father.”

You sniffle, about to shake your head but she cuts you off, her tone shifting from gentle to serious.

“Now, you listen to me. If my son has you feeling trapped in any way, shape or form, just know that there are ways to get out.” She fishes an embroidered linen out of the pocket of her cardigan and dabs at your tears in a manner that seems so motherly that you can’t help but burst into tears again. “We omegas aren’t as weak as they think we are, and there is always a way for us to flourish, whether that’s with an alpha or without one.”

“I…I…” you try to say something, anything, but all you can do is stutter and cry some more. And it’s embarrassing to a degree, because haven’t you cried enough? And aren’t your problems so trivial compared to hers?

Finally, you shake your head, clutching the pretty embroidered linen as if it’s a treasured family heirloom that she’s bestowed upon you, and not just something she’s given you to wipe your tears with. “N-No, Mrs. Rogers. It’s not like that… Well, at least not anymore. Steve wasn’t so nice to me at first, but now I want to be with him.”

Want to or need to? The shadowy voice inside your head mocks, but you force it away quickly.

“That’s good to hear. And for what it’s worth, I think you and Steve make a beautiful couple.” She pauses, doing that thing again where she needs a few seconds to regain her breath. You wonder vaguely if she’s in pain, but the thought is too depressing for you to linger on.

“Is it the baby?” She whispers suddenly, and her words jolt you upright.

“How do you know about the…?”

Her eyes twinkle, “Well, you just confirmed it, darling. And I confess that I could smell it on you. Pregnant omegas have a subtly different scent, I learnt all about that when I worked as a midwife before I got married.”

You’re stunned, but you manage to nod slowly, “Yes, I only found out a few weeks ago.”

A peculiar look crosses Mrs. Rogers’ face in that moment. Budding excitement makes her smile widely, her beautiful brown eyes lighting up her entire face and taking away that sickly gauntness for a second. Just a second, before something inside her dims, and her smile dampens, as if there’s a ticking time bomb behind her eyes that won’t allow her to get too excited.

“I do hope I’m still here when…” She looks somewhere beyond your shoulder, her eyes shining wetly before she takes out another embroidered handkerchief and dabs at them. “Well anyways, that’s wonderful news, my darling, just so wonderful. I was about your age when I had Steve.”

“You were?”

“Yes. Of course, I wasn’t at college but I was working as a mid-wife when I met Steve’s father and we fell in love.” She pauses, either to reflect on fond memories or to catch her breath. If you’re honest, she looks slightly tired and worn out, as if merely speaking is taking a toll on her and yet she continues because she has to get it all out. “We were married within two months of knowing each other. Of course, I had to leave my job, and I got pregnant that very year. Oh, what an exciting time it was…”

She was definitely reflecting now, and you take a moment to reflect as well. Would you also have to leave college and any prospect of a job now that you were pregnant and had agreed to marry Steve?

“Where is Mr. Rogers now?” You ask, trying not to think too hard about all your current worries.

“Oh, he’s on one of his business trips.” She chuckles, “He wanted to take time off work when we found out I was sick, but I wouldn’t hear it. I just wanted things to carry on as normal, and that’s also what I told Steve last summer when I first found out.”

You nod slowly, trying to take in all the information you’ve just been bombarded with. And oh, you don’t know how to feel! You’ve just met this woman and yet you wish you’d known her longer.

“Mom? Why are you out of bed? You’re supposed to be resting!”

You jump at the sound of Steve’s voice, turning around when you sense him at the doorway. As your eyes land on his familiar frame, your heart skips a beat and you jump once more – but for a different reason…

“Steven Grant Rogers, what have you done to your beautiful hair?” Mrs. Rogers cries out, dramatically holding her hand up to her heart.

Steve’s blonde hair, which had grown longer in the past two months, is now sporting a buzzcut. His light blonde tufts which had even begun to curl up against his collar, now cropped down close to his head. The new hairstyle, paired with his growing facial hair, makes him look so starkly different from the clean-cut alpha you’d grown used to. Not bad different, just different.

Steve runs a hand through his hair (or what’s left of it), “It’s just a haircut, mom. Where’s your nurse?”

“But why? Oh, Stevie, is that where you went off to so early in the morning? To the barber? Darling, you could have just asked me to give you a trim, like how I used to!”

“It’ll grow back, mom, please don’t be so dramatic. Now where’s that nurse of yours?”

“Never mind the nurse, Steve. You’re about to be a father, for heaven’s sake! You cannot go around looking like a troublemaking hoodlum with that haircut!”

“I do not look like a troublemaking–” Steve cuts himself off, looking from you to his mother, “You know about the…?”

“Your baby? Yes, Steven. Your girlfriend and I had a nice long chat before you arrived to shock us with your appalling haircut.”

Steve sits down next to you, taking your hand into his and giving it a squeeze. You instinctively offer him a bite of your pancake, which he accepts, shooting you a small smile as he chews. And it makes your heart all fuzzy, because it’s still him, with his pretty blue eyes and long lashes and full lips. It’s still Steve, just with shorter hair.

“How are you feeling?” He asks you softly, and you give him a small, affirming nod.

His gaze shifts from you to his mother, and you see his face soften even more, “Mom, I told you I’d bring her to your room to meet you. The doctor said you need to rest–”

Mrs. Rogers bats her hand dismissively, “I’ve rested enough, Steve.”

“Where’s your nurse?”

“Oh, her? I sent her home.” Mrs. Rogers says proudly.

“What? Mom, you can’t do that. The nurse is here for a reason!”

“Yes, and I felt it pointless to keep her here when I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. She looked terribly bored anyways, and so I gave her the rest of the day off. And look, I’m perfectly fine despite her not being here.”

Mrs. Rogers doesn’t look perfectly fine. In fact, she already looks more tired and worn out in the few minutes since you’ve spoken to her. But seeing the stubborn resilience on her face makes your heart sink. You don’t know how, but you know exactly what she’s doing. Staying strong, pretending to be brave… For Steve. It’s a maternal thing, you realise – and you don’t know how you’ve come to this conclusion because it’s not like your own mother ever demonstrated this type of behaviour – but you just know.

“How are you going to get better if you don’t do what the doctor tells you to?” He demands, and you see Mrs. Rogers sigh, casting an almost pitiful look at her son.

Steve goes over to help his mother to her feet. And it’s sad to watch, but also fascinating. This is a dynamic that you’ve never seen him in, being so tender with his mother that it touches your heart. And there’s such genuine love in Mrs. Rogers’ eyes, despite how she huffs at his haircut and bats his hands away before eventually accepting them. She stands up, leaning heavily against him.

“Well, I guess I should rest a bit more.” She contemplates, shooting you a wink, “I’m sure you two want some alone time. I remember how it was back in the day, when Steve’s father and myself were freshly mated. Oh, you wouldn’t believe how much we–”

Steve wrinkles his nose, “Mom, please don’t finish that sentence.”

You giggle, and Mrs. Rogers gives you one final smile. And it’s wondrous how her smile seems to bring a glimpse of her youth and health back to her face, albeit fleetingly. Your heart hurts for her, but you also feel a sense of awe and admiration at how regally she holds herself, with pride in every step she takes and kindness in every word she’d spoken.

“Darling, please come into my room whenever you feel like it. I have many stories to tell you, and plenty are about Steve.”

You nod, also getting to your feet. “I would love to hear them.”

“And I’m sure you have a lot to tell me too. I know how stubborn my son gets –”

“Mom!”

“–and I know he’d love to keep you all to himself, but I would love to get to know you better too.”

You watch as Steve leads her away. She pauses when a sudden, wracking coughing spell makes her lean more heavily against her son. Steve freezes, watching as his mother coughs into her handkerchief. You see a flash of red on the white linen before she neatly tucks it into her pocket and clears her throat. It’s only when her coughing resides and she smiles up at Steve reassuringly, that the alpha seems to relax.

“It’s probably just a delayed reaction to your hair.” She jokes weakly, and Steve rolls his eyes before taking her to her room.

You sit alone, making a mental promise to go to Mrs. Rogers’ room at least once a day for as long as you were staying here.

“Steve, why did you never tell me about your mother?” You ask a few minutes later once he returns to the living room.

He blinks, “She’s fine.”

“B-But why didn’t you mention that she’s sick?”

“She’s fine.” Steve repeats, “She’s going to be fine, okay? That’s what my dad says.”

You’d only ever known Steve to be brave, because weren’t all alphas brave? You never knew him to fear anything, and yet right now it was plain as day – the fear and uncertainty glimmering in his eyes for just a moment before he blinks it all away.

“That’s where he is right now,” Steve continues, speaking fast as if to reassure himself and not just you, “My dad. He’s meeting with all the best doctors in the country, and they’ll fix her up easily. That’s exactly what he said, and we have all the money in the world to pay for any treatment or drug or surgery. So there’s no point in worrying about anything, omega. She’ll be fine.”

You feel a surge of pity as you watch him nod reassuringly to himself, and you clasp his hand with both of yours.

“Steve, she–”

“She’s fine, omega.” Steve says for the umpteenth time, and you see that glimmer in his eye again, that almost desperate little glint. A warning bell, or a silent cry for you to drop it. “She’s always been fine, okay? She’s always been healthy and active and all of that, so this doesn’t really mean anything, and you shouldn’t worry about it because it’ll go away soon and she’ll get better.”

You nod, not saying anything more. Instead, you hesitantly wind your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. You rarely initiate intimacy with him – despite the fact that you crave it so much. Your shyness has always halted you in the past, stopped you from kissing him or hugging him first despite the fact that it was often the only thing on your mind. You’d always wait for Steve to initiate and then follow his lead.

But something had changed between the two of you. Was it in the football field, when he’d professed his love? Was it when he’d walked away from harming Peter? Or was it during the long car journey yesterday, where slowly but surely, you’d let your walls down around him and actually spoken to him. It felt like the first two months of your relationship had been a tumultuous rollercoaster filled with hurt, lies, pain and anguish – along with fiery passion and an intense need for each other. The latter two were still present now, but there seemed to be a deeper understanding that wasn’t there before.

In the span of the past two days, you’d seen sides to him that you’d never seen before. His panic attack after he’d walked away from the fight with Peter, his laidback demeanour during the drive to your hometown. How he’d consoled you after everything that happened last night, and the desperate way in which he’d begged you to stay with him, to not go back to that dark place within yourself. And you? He’d seen you at the lowest of low you could have possibly felt: crying at the foot of your childhood home that no longer was. And you’d asked yourself: where do we go from here?

Steve was changed, and so were you. And that shyness that you felt before, it isn’t all that consuming now as you hug him close, and kiss his cheek.

“She’s lovely, Steve.” You whisper honestly, shooting him a reassuring smile.

“She’ll be fine.” He says, again more to himself than to you. And all you can do is nod as he holds you close, before tipping your head up and pressing your lips against his. And your body shudders in his arms, having missed him this close to you. He returns your kiss feverishly, his big hands rubbing up and down your back in a way that makes you both sigh. Silently, he grabs your hand and leads you back to his bedroom, which is just as well, because this mansion was so massive, you’d have probably got lost trying to find your own way back.

“I booked us an ultrasound appointment for later this week.” He says, and you blink. Oh, right. The baby. Between marriage proposals and fights and road trips and disappearing mothers and mothers with illnesses, you’d once again put your pregnancy to the very back of your mind.

“Oh. Okay.” You aren’t sure what else to say.

Steve clears his throat, leading you over to his bed. He sits down and pulls you into his lap, “Yeah. You’ve had a tough few days and I thought we should get everything checked out. We don’t even know how far along you are.”

You don’t say anything, instead just cuddling up to him even more. Now, with your newfound comfort in initiating kisses, you can’t help but press your lips against his again. You just want to feel him, and feel something that isn’t dread. This morning when you’d woken up, you’d pushed all the bad memories of yesterday aside. But now, they were all coming back. Like sticky, black tar staining the inside of your head, and an evil voice laughing and mocking you…

“Baby,” Steve breathes, slightly pulling back, “How are you feeling?”

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it. That’s what your mind keeps chanting, desperately trying to erase the picture of your mother’s empty dresser, and her note which you had ripped to shreds. Why did your fingers itch for that note now? Your mother’s parting words to you… maybe you should have kept them safe…

“Your hair’s all prickly now.” You blurt out.

Steve frowns, but he seems to understand that you don’t want to talk about your mother. “You hate it too, huh?”

“No, it’s just different.” You card your fingers through his buzzcut as best you can, scratching at his scalp lightly and it makes him sigh and relax under you. He grabs your other hand, the one that’s not in his hair, and squeezes it in his larger one before bringing it up to his lips. He kisses each of your fingertips, the act so intimate that it sends sparks up your spine. “It’s different, but it’s still you.”

He nods, “I just felt like I needed a change.”

You watch him as he plays with your fingers, his other hand grabbing the back of your neck and tugging you down till you’re lying on top of him, your cheek against his chest. Snuggling up cosily, you listen to his heartbeat, the steady drumming cleansing your mind and making you sigh in relief.

“You look so different compared to the first time I saw you.” You say absentmindedly, thinking back to the clean-cut alpha who had bullied you so horribly those first few months of freshman year.

“Well, I’m not like that anymore, okay? Like I said before, I’ll be different now.”

I hope, I hope, I hope! You think, wanting so badly to believe that… but all you can do is give him a weak smile in return.

The days go by quickly at the Rogers’ household. It’s the end of college and the start of summer, but you don’t know how you feel about that. It’s difficult to open up about everything surrounding your mother. A small part of you still wants to call her or leave her a text, but there’s also a part of you that wants to delete her number altogether. But you can’t bring yourself to do it, and Steve, despite wanting you to open up to him, doesn’t press you to do it.

It's comical, in a way. You won’t open up about your mother leaving you, and he won’t open up about his mother being sick. So depressingly sad that it’s comical.

You try and distract yourself from your feelings by exploring the mansion some more. Steve gives you a tour, explaining all the different wings the house has. The east wing, the west wing, the north wing, the south wing – gosh, you’d never stepped foot inside a house so big that it had four separate wings filled with a dozen rooms each. And Steve had grown up here, so it was all normal to him, but you could see the look of amusement in his eyes. As if he got a kick out of you being so entranced by the riches in front of you.

With your hand firmly held in his, he’d shown you the pools (yes, plural), and the indoor cinema (bigger and better than any real cinemas you’d been to) and the tennis courts. Your favourite was by far the ballroom, this gigantic room that seemed to stretch for acres, with shiny marble flooring and vintage chandeliers that held real wax candles.

“Oh, it’s just like a fairytale…” you breathe.

Steve smirks, “My parents used to hold galas in here, but I always thought they were stuffy and boring. They’d force me to come, but me and Bucky would always sneak out and go play videogames or smoke weed.”

You bristle when he mentions Bucky, but soon forget as Steve leads you to another room. It’s a library, and it’s bigger than any you’ve seen before. Bigger than the public library in town and even bigger than the university library on campus. Shelves upon shelves filled with books of all sorts, and oh, you could spend an eternity in here!

“I knew you’d like this room the best.” Steve says, “Some of the books in here are so old, they’re falling apart. But I guess that’s the charm of it…”

Steve tells you that you can use the library whenever you want. In fact, he says you can use the pool, the tennis courts, the cinema, all of it… “It’s your house as much as it is mine,” he says, but you have a hard time accepting that something so big could ever be yours. It’s all a bit much to take in, going from crying on a patch of dried grass a few nights ago to a plethora of riches surrounding you today. But you nod graciously, liking this relaxed and laid-back side of him which you were slowly getting used to seeing.

But it’s when he’s gone that you feel yourself beginning to unravel. It’s when he goes out to the gym or for a run or to his father’s company office, that’s when you feel yourself breaking down from the inside out. You find yourself calling him, texting him, begging him to come back so you don’t have to be alone with your thoughts. And he does come back every time, and he hugs you, and then you feel okay again.

Steve’s mother is also a calming presence for you, despite the fact that it’s only been three days since you met her. She has a nurturing quality that you find yourself gravitating towards. Sometimes, when Steve is gone, you go to her room to keep her company. (Or rather, she keeps you company).

She tells you stories about Steve as a child (“He wasn’t always so big and imposing! Oh no, my Stevie was a late bloomer, but he doesn’t want me telling anyone that!”) and about her days as a midwife (“It was rewarding work. I was sad to leave it behind but I knew that being a mother was more important to me than any other job.”) She also tells you about Steve’s father (“He used to be a lot like Steve, very impatient and hot-headed. But he’s mellowed out a lot now, and he’s the love of my life. I wish he’d hurry up and come home, because he’s been dying to meet you too, and I miss him.”)

She also tells you about how she wishes she’d had a bigger hand in raising Steve. She tells you she’d been exceptionally close to him when he was a child, taking him out to tend her flower garden with her, nurturing his talent for drawing and painting, even teaching him how to sew. But once he’d entered middle school, his father had taken over, wanting to properly teach him how to be an alpha and the man of the family. She said that her and Steve were still close, though, and she liked how he was becoming more sensitive because of you.

You love listening to her speak, and sometimes, even if it’s for just a few fleeting moments, you imagine how your life would’ve been like if she had been your mother. With her soft and caring nature, the way she was so inviting and kind, the way she held your hand and squeezed it, the way she was so forthcoming with her hugs. But then you blink those thoughts away, because a part of you feels like you’re betraying your real mother. The one who had betrayed you by leaving…

On one of your visits to her bedroom, Mrs. Rogers looks at you with a bittersweet smile on her face, “You’re a very good person, you know that?” She says, and you blink, taken aback by the sudden compliment. She pats your hand, “You visit my room more than my own son does, but I know he’s just afraid of the cancer taking his mother away from him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with that…”

You feel a pang of hurt in your heart, both for her and for Steve, but she continues speaking before you can say anything.

“It takes an especially brave woman to deal with someone as stubborn as my son, let alone change him into a better person, and you have done both.” She stops, taking a sip of water from the glass on her bedside table. “But don’t let him dim your shine. I know how hard it is for young omegas like yourself, who feel compelled by their own biology to do whatever their alphas want them to.”

You look down to your lap, not knowing what to say.

“My son is so in love with you, my darling, that it’s truly you who holds him in the palm of your hand, and not the other way around – as hard as that may be for you to believe. It’s the way he looks at you, how his eyes follow you no matter who else is in the room. It reminds me of how my husband looks at me.”

You look up to meet her gaze, and her eyes are shining again, in that special way that makes her look so youthful and full of life. She’s in a yellow cardigan set today, with a yellow rose brooch on her breast.

“What I’m trying to say is, you have no idea the power you hold over him. So, stand your ground and keep your chin up. He can be demanding, but don’t give in to him so easily. Because if there’s anyone who can make him do anything, it’s you. You’re an omega, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t strong and smart and resilient. Remember that.”

You’re unconvinced, but you tell her that you’ll try your hardest to do just that.

But you still can never be left alone with your thoughts for too long. Steve is constantly by your side, but it’s the worst when he isn’t. Like now, as you sit on the edge of the bed and wait for him to come out of the shower despite the fact that he’s just gone into the bathroom. But the dark voice in your head is reappearing, forcing you to relive your mother’s betrayal, taunting you about who will leave you next.

Before you know it, you’re stumbling into the bathroom, thanking your lucky stars that Steve hasn’t locked the door. He’s inside the shower, and you meet his gaze with a half sheepish and half desperate look on your face.

“Could I… uh… would it be okay if I joined you?” Your words come out rushed and knocking into each other. You bite your lip, shifting from one foot to the other and heart thudding with nervousness that he’d reject you or laugh. It’s still your default to feel that way, even after everything, and you wonder if you’ll ever unlearn it.

Steve draws back the shower curtain and beckons you inside. You sigh in relief, wanting to be in his arms more than anything else. Your clothes are shed quickly, and you step into the steam-filled shower and straight into his crushing embrace. The water cascades over you, so warm as you bury your face in his chest. He’s so warm, so familiar, so him. You inhale as deep as your lungs allow, his scent rushing past your nostrils and through your system, calming you from the inside out.

“How are you feeling, baby?” He asks, twining your hair around his finger.

You swallow harshly, digging your face deeper into his chest as you try to block that evil voice out, “I don’t know.”

You know you should answer him properly, you know you should talk about it, let it all out. Instead, you grab the bottle of shampoo and squeeze some out. It’s Steve’s shampoo – a 5-in-1 concoction that you’d never use on your own hair. But you lather it on your palm and reach up timidly.

Steve seems to understand what you’re trying to do and ducks his head down, sighing raggedly when your fingers card through his short hair which looks so dark now that it’s wet. And it’s nice, it’s calming, to have something to focus on. His hair is bristly yet still soft, and he inhales sharply when your nails scrape gently against his scalp. He hoists you up into his arms, holding you up against the wall so you have a better reach. He presses his face into the nape of your neck, placing soft kisses on your skin as you continue to wash his hair.

“Please, just tell me what you’re feeling.” He murmurs, holding you close.

You swallow harshly, “I just… It hurts, Steve. It hurts a lot. And I’m trying not to think about it because I feel like I’ll break down if I do.” As if on cue, your voice breaks, and you feel the tears rushing forward again, but you’re happy that the water from the shower washes them away. And Steve’s closeness seems to hold you together, and you clear your throat. “I knew we weren’t close but… But I didn’t think she hated me so much that she’d just leave.”

“I don’t think she hates you.” Steve says after a few beats of silence, as if he’s really trying to think of the right thing to say. “Nobody could hate you. I think she’s a terribly selfish person, but I don’t think she hates you.”

“But it still hurts so bad.”

He hugs you fiercely, whispering “I know, I know” while you stare morosely at the bathroom tiles.

“What if I become like her?” You whisper, and the choked words are almost lost against the pitter-patter of the water. Subconsciously, your hand slips up to rest against your stomach, “What if I… What if I’m just like her, and I don’t care about my baby either?”

“That’s not possible.”

“But what if I do? Steve, sometimes I… sometimes I forget that I’m even pregnant.” You look down in shame, your whole body shaking as you voice this fear that you hadn’t even realised you had until you said it out loud. “I knew I was pregnant for weeks before I told you, but I just pushed it aside. And even now, it’s like I’ll just forget, and then you’ll mention it or your mom will mention it and all of a sudden, I’ll remember that there’s a baby inside of me, and it’s scary and how can I just forget, Steve? That’s not normal, and what if I’m a bad mother, and–”

“Hey, hey, hey, stop it.” Steve shushes you gently, with pillow-soft kisses pressed all over your face and lips. He cups your face in his hands, “Look at me. You won’t be like her, okay? The fact that you’re even worrying about this shows that you could never be a bad mother.”

“But…”

He clears his throat, “You’re the most caring person I’ve ever met. You care even when you don’t realise it. I see it all the time, and before I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. How someone could possibly be so good, so pure, you know?”

You duck your head, but he grabs your chin and makes you look at him. There’s water and steam all around you both, distorting your view somewhat. But his eyes are crystal clear and earnest, so sharp as they cut through the steam wafting between the two of you. So honest, that it makes you dizzy, because you’re not used to his eyes ever looking so honest.

“I know our child is going to be the most loved child in the world, because it’ll be yours.”

“But–”

“You won’t be like how your mother was, because you’re you. And you’re the best person I’ve ever met.”

Often, for as long as you’d known him, Steve was able to use his words to paint the most beautiful pictures inside your head. False promises and sweet manipulations fuelled by his intoxicating scent and designed to control you and mould the way you thought. Designed to weaken your defences and accept his lies and fabrications. And every time you fell for it; hook, line and sinker.

But the confident easiness on his face each time he lied to you in the past, was now replaced by a look of earnesty. Subtle changes like the softness of his tone, how he’d stop and think about the words he was saying to you. Had he changed? Steve Rogers, the formidable alpha who had bullied and manipulated you beyond belief. Was he changed? Was this really him?

“Do you really want to be a father?” You blurt out, almost scared to ask the question, almost scared to hear the answer. “I…I mean, not just because you’re an alpha and you have this whole plan.”

He frowns, “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” You gulp, “I mean, is it all just for show? You always said you had a plan for your life, and how it included me as the mother of your kids. I-Is it just for show? Or will you actually care for this baby?” And not leave if it’s not what you want?

His fingers, which know each crevice of your body so well, run up and down your sides before his hand splays out on your tummy. And you crane your neck to look up at him, and it takes your breath away, the tenderness you see on a face that’s usually so hard and impenetrable.

“Every time I think about the fact that you’re pregnant and we’re going to have a baby soon, I get excited. And nervous. I guess that’s how I know that this is what I really want.”

He cups your face in his hands, “Even if we never had kids, you’d still be my purpose and I’d still be content. But now that our baby’s in the picture, I know I’m accountable to both of you, and I want to be. You complete me, baby. I promise I’m done fucking around.”

“H-How are you saying all this now? When before you… When before you never did?”

He stares at you for what feels like years, this impenetrable look on his face.

“You told me you wanted to die.”

Your eyes widen and you duck your head, but he makes you look at him once more.

“The night we left your mother’s house, you told me you wanted to die. And I fucking couldn’t stand the look on your face, like you had no hope or happiness left inside you.”

“B-But that was because of my mom, not you…”

“It might as well have been because of me. I know your mom hurt you, but so did I. You had already gone through so much when we met, and all I did was make your life even worse.” He sucks in a breath, swiping water droplets off your face and cupping your cheek, so you can’t look away even if you wanted to.

“I used to be obsessed with my mom’s flower garden when I was younger. I’d always pluck the flowers because I wanted them to be mine, but they’d always wilt and die.” He kisses you, desperately, roughly, as he whispers against your lips, “I don’t want you to die, okay? I don’t want to lose you. And even if you’re physically here but emotionally gone… I think I’d lose it. And I can’t lose it, so I need to be better.”

You surge up and kiss him back doubly hard, your arms winding around his neck and drawing him closer, closer, closer till you both can’t breathe from the rapid, feverish kisses. Wasn’t this what you’d been subconsciously wanting from him since the very beginning? Despite everything, you’d had a crush on him since the start, and how badly you’d wanted him to like you. How badly you’d wanted him to change once he’d claimed you. How badly you’d wanted him to be your knight in shining armour, the gallant prince like from all the fairytales you’d read growing up. Instead, he’d been hurtful and manipulative. But now? Oh, he was saying what you’d always wanted him to say!

“I’m not gonna die, Steve. I promise, I’m right here.”

His dick slips inside you before you even realise it, but you welcome the slight discomfort of his large member easing its way up your hole. He hoists you up higher, pressing your legs further apart so he can drive himself deeper into you. In turn, you wrap your legs around his waist as you both moan into each other’s mouths when he bottoms out inside of you.

“You missed my dick?” He asks you in your ear, and you can feel the smile on his lips, his usual cockiness returning slowly, as if he can’t help himself.

“Y-Yeah.” You answer, despite the fact that you’d last had sex with him only a few days ago after the big game. But it felt like you’d lived an eternity since then, and you wanted him all the time.

“Yeah? You missed how I stretch your little baby pussy out?”

“Yes!”

He sighs, “Good. I missed being inside you.”

He ruts against you, and you have a feeling he’s trying to be slow and sensual but it’s like he can’t help but quicken his pace. You don’t mind, though. It’s like you need him fucking you to clear your mind of all your worries.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he grunts before pressing his forehead against yours, holding your body with just one muscular arm, while his other hand slips down to press against your clit. “So tiny and tight, baby omega. Tell me, does my dick feel good?”

“Yes, daddy,” you sigh, head lolling to the side at the feel of his huge member sliding in and out of you, the friction so delicious, not to mention the sparks of hot pleasure from him playing with your clit. You gasp when his mouth moves to hover over his mark on your neck, and he tongues your mating gland in a way that has you spasming in his arms.

“Daddy wants to eat your pussy so bad, baby girl.” He murmurs suddenly into your neck, making your eyes pop open in shock. You walls flutter around him violently, swallowing his dick in as you grind closer, so utterly turned on by his words. The way he’d gone from earnest declarations of love to “daddy wants to eat your pussy” was admittedly funny, although the last thing you’re compelled to do right now is laugh. You’re way too turned on to laugh.

“Please,” you utter when he goes to pull out of you, grabbing his arm, “Want you to stay inside me, daddy.”

He can’t help but smirk, “Let me make you feel good.”

He sets you down before getting on his knees in front of you. He takes one of your legs, hooking it over his shoulder so your bare pussy is on display for him. Carnally, he licks his lips, and your hands immediately go down to fist his hair. It’s buzzed off, but you make do. You have no choice, because he chooses that moment to wrap his lips around your clit, sucking down harshly.

“Oh, fuck!” You whimper, clutching at his short hair.

“Such a good little girl,” Steve says, voice muffled but it’s like the two of you are in a bubble so you can still hear him loud and clear. “Such a good little baby omega, always so good to me aren’t you, baby?”

He slaps your pussy lightly, a glimmer in his eye as he watches you spasm in his arms. He’s got one hand gripping your thigh tightly as it rests on his shoulder, the other holding your hip firmly so you don’t topple over (which is very likely given the intense amounts of pleasure you’re already feeling).

“Answer me, baby. I need to hear you.” Steve slaps your pussy again, the squelching sound so lewd as your wetness seeps down your thighs. You let out a choked whisper of his name, looking down at him pleadingly but all he does is slap your pussy again, this time squarely catching your clit and making you scream.

“Oh, oh–daddy!”

Steve’s tongue licks up your slit, lapping at your wetness while his hands roam your wet body. Slipping up to squeeze your breasts and play with your hard nipples, twisting them till they’re bruising with pain. But oh, you don’t even care! Your body feels like it’s floating in waves of pleasure administered by him. He grabs your hand and squeezes it, the act so intimate compared to the way he’s lewdly making out with your pussy, and you feel your heart flutter.

He keeps holding your hand, and you stare at your intertwined fingers till they blur your vision. Or maybe it’s Steve sucking on your clit that blurs your vision, his tongue circling around your bundle of nerves, making you so sensitive and bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

And he’s watching you the whole time, watching as you buck your hips into his mouth like you can’t help it. Watching as you cry at the pleasure, clutch at him and squeeze his hand back, and you hold his gaze as best you can. Could he also feel like the two of you were in some sort of impenetrable bubble? Like you’d gone through hell and back and now nothing could touch you or hurt you or interrupt what the two of you had?

“You’re so beautiful,” Steve says quietly, except it’s amplified in your ears. You don’t know if you believe him but his eyes are earnest and shining. You’re automatically about to tell him thank you, except he chooses that moment to press three fingers inside of you, making your knees buckle. But he has a firm hold on you, keeping you in place and pressing kisses all over your hips and thighs before returning his attention to your clit. “So, so beautiful, baby. The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, and guess what?”

“Wh-What?” you breathe, peering down at him in a mix of awe and lust.

He smirks, “Your little baby pussy’s pretty too. But I wonder if she can take three of daddy’s fingers?”

Of course. Maybe you should grow used to the way he’s seamlessly shifting from romantic to lewd, and you’re even about to crack a smile at how comical his switches are. But instead, you squeak, eyes widening and a cry dying in your throat as he begins to fuck you with his thick fingers. Your walls are snug around his digits, and it burns because his fingers are so big and thick. But you don’t care, don’t care at all! Especially when he brushes that spot inside you that only he could ever find, making you fall forward till he catches you, and you’re whimpering and meeting his thrusts.

“Mmm, what a greedy little pussy, she’s just crying for her daddy, isn’t she?” Steve smiles wickedly, now lazily licking at your clit while he peers down at his fingers entering you at a rapid pace. “Fuck yourself on my fingers, baby. Let me make you cum.”

You don’t need to be told twice, your hips already bucking wildly, wanting his fingers to go deeper. And they’re so big and it hurts so good and yet you want his dick back inside you, which is even bigger. “S-So good, daddy,” you whimper, your body shuddering over how badly you needed this. All the pent-up sorrow, stress, anger from the past few days was all building up and ready to be released.

“Rub your little baby cunt on daddy’s face, omega.” Steve orders you, his voice so deep with lust. Of course, you’re too shy to do that but it’s like he anticipated that. And so he grabs your hips, grinding your pussy all over his face. And you gasp audibly, because he hasn’t shaved for a few days now and his stubble is so deliciously rough. The sensation is new, it’s different but you can’t say you don’t love it. And it’s like Steve’s forgotten about breathing, clutching your ass from behind and squeezing your ass cheeks as he pushes you closer into his face. Your pussy is effectively smothering his face, and you feel his nose nudge against your clit, and his fingers quicken in pace, so deep, so good, and…

You squirt all over his face. And it surprises you how it just won’t stop, your cream squirting out of you at an alarming rate, leaving a thin glaze on his face and catching on his stubble. And he laps at your cunt freely, coaxing your orgasm out of you while you quiver, your knees buckling again. You’re in a standing position – barely – but you can barely feel your legs and you know he’s holding you up otherwise you’d be on the floor right now.

“That’s such a good baby,” Steve coos, tonguing your pussy as it spasms, fingers still fucking into you, “Cumming so nicely for daddy, doing exactly what you’re told to do. You like making daddy happy like that, don’t you, baby omega?”

“Y-Yeah, daddy,” you pant, barely able to breathe let alone hold a dirty conversation right now.

In a second, Steve’s on his feet once more, and he’s got you up in his arms again. Your limbs feel useless, legs hanging as he hoists you up against the wall. But you jolt back into alertness when he pistons his dick inside of you, catching you by surprise. You whimper his name, nails already clawing at his back because it’s too much, your body still recovering from your orgasm. But the feeling is a good kind of overwhelming, as if you can’t get enough of him despite your body twitching in oversensitivity.

You bite your lip, focusing on his arm as it holds you in place against the wall. God, he was so big, every inch of him rippling with solid muscle. And it was such a turn on, how easily he held you up with just his one arm, the other one holding your hip in place while he drove his dick inside you again and again.

“You’re so big and strong,” you blurt out before your eyes widen in alarm at your slip, and you duck your head embarrassedly.

Steve groans, and you feel his dick twitch inside you before he increases his pace slightly. “Fuck, baby, I’m trying to go easy on you. But when you say things like that, it makes me want to lose control.”

“Do it,” you urge him, feeling extremely submissive, “Please, daddy, fuck me hard.”

Steve chuckles, peppering the top of your head with kisses before you look up once more, and then he bites at your lip. “Daddy would love nothing more, baby girl. But I gotta go easy on you a little bit, you know, since I knocked you up.”

And just saying that gets Steve more incensed, and his eyes flutter down to your belly, which he splays his hand over. He starts fucking you harder, his hips a blur as his dick disappears inside you. And once or twice you forget how to breathe, but you still feel safe because you’re in his arms and who needs to breathe when Steve’s there? When he’s looking at you with such intensity? When he’s fucking you so hard yet his thumb is rubbing so gently on your belly?

You cum again before you know what’s even happening, your walls pulsating around his dick so deliciously and it makes Steve’s hips stutter. You cry out his name over and over again, so overwhelmed my pleasure and other emotions. Encased in your little bubble with Steve, where it’s just the two of you and your pants and cries and gasps and moans.

“That’s my good little girl,” Steve praises, his words making you glow despite everything. “Cumming just for daddy. But I want your baby pussy to give me another one, okay, baby?”

“Wh-What? Another…? Steve, I can’t–”

“One more, baby. You can do it for daddy.” Steve encourages softly, and again his fingers slip down to play with your sensitive clit. “Cum once more, baby, before daddy fills you up and knocks you up again.”

Well, that wasn’t entirely possible but with Steve… who knew? And you were still so overly sensitive, but if anything could put you over the edge it was his words. Along with his expert fingers who knew your body so well after two months. Better than anyone else ever did. His thumb rubs at your bundle of nerves, circling and rubbing, pressing down and pinching it till you feel like you’re going to pass out, and it’s too much and yet your body feels like it’s about to spontaneously combust, and…

“That’s my good fucking girl,” Steve says proudly when you squirt all over his dick once more, falling like a dead weight in his arms as your body spasms. Your hips buck wildly and your toes curl as you cum so hard, you see stars. And you whimper your alpha’s name, you whimper daddy as you scratch and claw at him and he holds you close, telling you how good you are for him, how you’re such a perfect angel, and how you did so good.

He squeezes you hard against him as he blows his load inside you, keeping you in place so he can fill you up till the brim. Till thick ropes of his cum cover your insides, searing your walls and marking you as his forever and only his. And your mind is made up that this is exactly where you want to be, and despite all your other confusion, you kiss him fiercely, welcoming the feel of him releasing inside you. And you stay like that for a while, him holding you close while you just hold each other.

“I love you.” He whispers in your ear, his embrace all-consuming as he clutches you against him. Your body is slippery and wet and spent and you cling to him and hum in satisfaction. He pauses to kiss up your jaw before he pecks your nose, “Baby, I love you so much.”

A long pause, and all you can hear is the pitter-patter of the water and the pitter-patter of his heart. You wonder if this is what being content feels like. Just right now, inside this shower where it’s just him and you and none of your other problems can reach you. Where all you can see is him and smell is him and touch is him. Your own personal little slice of heaven, even just for a little while.

You don’t even notice that Steve’s holding his breath until he exhales heavily, and cups your face to make you look up at him. And his voice comes out soft, so soft it’s almost drowned out by the sound of the shower stream.

“You love me too, don’t you?”

You hesitate, a lump forming in your throat and your chest tightening. A billion thoughts rush in and out of your head, creating a whirlpool of confusion within you. You open your mouth, but it feels dry as cotton. And all that comes out is a little croak and a squeak. Oh god, oh god, oh god. Why couldn’t you say it? Weren’t you just thinking of how content you feel right now, with him? So then why the heck couldn’t you say it?

Abruptly, Steve’s hands drop to his sides and he steps away from you. You feel like you’ve been doused by a bucket of ice-cold water at the loss of contact, like the light within you has lost its fuse. You feel an unrest in your bond with him, and you know he’s hurt. Before you can grab his hand, he steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist, avoiding your gaze.

You stand there alone as the water pours all over you, watching as he makes his way out of the bathroom. A part of you can’t believe it, because just a second ago he was being so perfect and honest and raw and intimate, and then you had to go ruin it by being unable to say what he wanted to hear! But he pauses at the door, looking back at you.

“I guess Peter was right, huh? You won’t ever love me.”

“Steve, it’s not that–”

“I’m not a fool, okay? I know I don’t deserve you. I definitely don’t deserve your love after everything I’ve put you through.”

“Steve–”

“But I’m too selfish to ever let you go.”

He leaves, slamming the bathroom door behind him. Your heart jumps all the way to your throat, and you scramble to follow after him. Before you know what’s happening, you lose your balance, slipping on the wet surface underneath you. But you grab on to the shower curtain just in time, steadying yourself and planting your feet firmly on the floor before you can fall. You breathe hard, your heart hammering crazily in your chest. Your hand automatically slips up to cradle your stomach, and you take a few deep breaths to calm yourself down.

Cautiously, almost at a snail’s pace, you turn the shower off and carefully step out of the tub. Every step you take seems to scare you, but you manage to dry off and put your clothes on before entering the bedroom.

He’s gone. The bed is empty and you’re the only one in the room.

Oh God, oh God, oh God… He left! The back of your mind whirs to life, thoughts immediately working into overdrive in five seconds flat. He’s gone! You couldn’t say you loved him and now he’s gone! You pace the room, inky darkness spreading within you like poison. That same hopelessness because it was happening all over again! He left you. And where would he go? What would he do? The image of him kissing another omega flickers in your mind, making you want to throw up.

You rush to throw the door open, peaking out into the massive, empty corridor. Marble flooring, exquisite tapestry and expensive art hung on the wall – but no Steve. You pitifully call out his name, the sound echoing around the hallway as if to mock you.

He left you! The cruel voice inside your head cackles. Your mom left you and your dad left you and now Steve left you too! You feel yourself being pulled under again, by that damning force inside that seems to want you to be sad forever. Your heart feels like it’s being squeezed by the icy cold hands of the grim reaper himself, pulling you down, down, down. You collapse on the bed, curling up into foetal position as you will yourself not to cry.

Eventually, you hear the bedroom door open. You don’t know if it’s been ten minutes or an hour, the haunting voice inside your brain making you lose track of the time. But you feel his strong arms pulling you back up, just like they always do.

“Hey,” He says gently, before frowning, “You’re crying.”

“You left.”

“I didn’t leave, I just…” He grips you tighter, cupping your face and making you look at him, and there’s a certain desperation in his actions, as if it’s dawning on him just how fucked up you are inside. “I just went outside for a while.”

“You were mad at me.” You draw in a breath, unable to look at him. “L-Last time you were mad, you…you…” A feral need to smell him overtakes you, and just like last time, your face collides with his chest, nose twitching as it sniffs all over him. Trying to detect a scent other than his own, the picture of him kissing another omega flashing behind your eyes once more.

But all you smell is a hot summer’s day speckled with cigarette smoke. And Steve’s thumbs swipe away your tears like they have countless times before.

“I’m not mad at you. I was just… mad at myself.” He breathes, an almost pained look on his face as he watches you cry softly in his arms. “Look, I’m trying to change, okay? I want to change for you, but it won’t happen overnight. God, I wish it would, but it won’t. I felt myself getting angry, and so I left the situation. But I was only outside. I didn’t leave you.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t say it, Steve.”

He presses a soft kiss on your nose, then your cheeks, then your forehead. “Don’t be. I haven’t given you a reason to say it. But it doesn’t mean I don’t mean it when I say it.” He sighs, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, a wistfully bittersweet look on his face, “I wish I had been different…”

You don’t know what to say, so instead you just hug him hard, finding solace in his rich scent as you snuggle your face into his sweater.

“I know you don’t trust me. But I promise I’ll be better for you, omega.” The pads of his thumbs never stop stroking your cheekbones, and the action feels so soft, so tender, glass butterflies flying around in your tummy as he speaks. “Remember what I told you outside your mom’s house?”

You sniffle and nod.

“What did I tell you?”

“Th-That we’re each other’s home.”

“That’s right. Which means I’ll stick by you until the day I die. And I know that sounds cheesy as shit but it’s the truth.” He lifts you gently and places you on his lap, wrapping his big arms around you and grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze before bringing it up to his lips. “You know that yearning feeling you get when I’m not here? Where it feels like you can’t breathe?”

You nod.

“Well, I get it too. Probably even more than you do.” Steve kisses each one of your fingertips. “I need you more than I need to breathe. But even if I didn’t need you, even if I could breathe just fine without you… I’d still love you all the same.”

Your heart flutters, and you feel a sudden surge of emotion. This was really Steve Rogers, the biggest bully on campus? It was, it was, it was! And the three words are on the tip of your tongue, and the omega inside of you is screaming at you to just say it, say it, say it! “Steve, I…I…”

But your voice trails off, and you just stare at him helplessly and he stares back, looking both hopeful and knowingly bittersweet at the same time.

You let Steve tuck you in, covering you in your special blanket along with his heavy down comforter. He grabs Steve Junior from the foot of the bed, making the stuffie peck your face with kisses until you giggle. He tucks the teddy bear in against your chest before getting in beside you. You sigh, cuddling into his chest as he lifts you up so you’re resting on top of him, and he kisses the top of your head, and you feel okay.

***

PART III

The stark white lights of the private clinic make you more nervous than you already are. The waiting room is a lot more luxurious than what you’re used to at public hospitals. Plush sofas that are soft as a feather underneath you, yet do nothing to soothe your nerves. You wish Steve was next to you so you could hold his hand, but he’s too busy pacing around the room, a scowl on his face as he checks his watch every few seconds.

“Mr. Rogers?” A nurse appears through the door, her sudden chirpiness making you jump. “Doctor Alam will see you now.”

“Well, it’s about time.” Steve huffs, despite the fact that the two of you have only been waiting about five minutes. The nurse leads you to what you’re guessing is one of the ultrasound rooms, giving you a final smile before Steve pushes you in through the door.

“Steve! It’s lovely to see you again. Come in, come in.” A smart-looking woman in a white coat greets you both, her black hair streaked with white and tied back in an elegant knot. She shoots you a reassuring smile as you hesitate by the door, unsure what to do with yourself before Steve’s hand on your lower back ushers you in.

“Doctor Alam.” Steve nods stoically, pushing you forward. “This is my girlfriend.” He introduces you and you nod, feeling the usual tongue-tied, shy, awkward and stupid.

The doctor smiles serenely, reaching out to shake your hand. “It’s lovely to meet you.” She says kindly, “Why, I’ve known Steve for many years now – being his family’s personal physician and all. I never thought I’d see him settle down, but it’s wonderful to see that he has.”

Her smile falters for a nano-second when she spots the jagged mark on your neck. But she recovers quickly, squeezing your hand in a friendly manner.

Steve clears his throat, “Yes. She’s my girlfriend and she’s pregnant, so do your thing…” He gestures vaguely at the ultrasound machine with as little grace as only he ever could. Doctor Alam raises one perfectly plucked eyebrow, trying to hide the bemused look on her face at his choice of words.

“Well, why don’t you hop up onto the bed here, and we’ll get started?”

“O-Okay,” you whisper, frozen in place as you take in all the fancy ultrasound equipment next to the bed. Steve gives you a prod and you jump before climbing up and lying down, your heart beating like crazy.

“So, I’m just going to ask you a few routine questions, alright?”

You nod.

“It says here that you took an at-home pregnancy test?” The doctor asks, referring to the form the nurse had made you fill out earlier.

You nod, “Y-Yes. I – uh – I took three pregnancy tests and they all came out positive.”

“Approximately how long ago did you take these tests?”

Your wring your fingers nervously, avoiding Steve’s gaze. “I…I’m not sure. I think it’s been a few weeks now.” You quietly wonder if the doctor thinks you’ll be a bad mother because you can’t remember exactly when you’d taken the tests.

Doctor Alam smiles brightly, “Well, soon I’ll be able to tell you just how far along you are. That’s exciting, isn’t it?”

Exciting wasn’t exactly the word you’d use. Daunting maybe. Scary too. You cast a quick glance at Steve, who has taken a seat on the chair next to the bed. He grabs your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. But even he looks distracted and a touch bewildered, his eyes locked on your belly before moving to the ultrasound wand in the doctor’s hand. As if he can’t wrap his head around what’s going on. And neither can you.

Kids, you think to yourself. We’re just kids ourselves. We don’t know what we’re doing.

Doctor Alam squeezes a cool gel on your tummy before she gets to work. The ultrasound wand is cold and foreign against your skin, and so you resort to looking at Steve instead. Not that he’s doing much better. All those football games in stadiums filled with thousands of people, and he never broke a sweat. But now? You can feel a sense of anxiety in your bond, and you know that it’s coming from both of you.

“Aha, there it is.” Doctor Alam interrupts. You turn, not really registering what she’s said. She’s sat there smiling, pointing to the screen and prompting you to look too. “Congratulations, there’s your baby!”

At first, your eyes can’t seem to focus on what she’s talking about. All you see is a black and white screen that flickers and moves every now and then. Swirling shadows that don’t really make sense – is that really the inside of your tummy? You’re about to ask the doctor where exactly this baby is supposed to be, but then she points to something in the middle of the screen.

And then… Oh, and then, and then, and then!

You see it. It’s like a miniature bundle, a tiny little ball – but once your eyes settle on it, it’s like you can’t look away. It’s bobbing, floating, moving slightly! And you can see the heartbeat, actually see it because this little thing is pulsing in the same way a heart beats! Oh God, oh God, oh God! Your hand automatically goes up to your belly, hoping to feel what you’re seeing on the screen in front of you. Steve’s hand falls on top of yours, and without looking at him, you know he can’t take his eyes off what he sees either.

“Whoa.” You breathe.

“Whoa indeed. See, that’s your gestational sac, with the yolk sac inside. And there’s your baby, it’s about 16 millimetres long, which is about the size of a raspberry.” Doctor Alam chuckles as she points out each individual detail. “By the looks of things, you are approximately eight weeks pregnant.”

Eight weeks…

“Two months…” You whisper, before tearing your eyes away from the ultrasound to look at Steve. “But that’s when we…”

“…That’s when we first got together.” Steve completes, a look of awe on his face before he, too, tears his gaze off the screen to look at you. It takes the two of you a handful of seconds to register what that means, and then you see a slow, self-satisfied smile spread across Steve’s face. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and looking extremely smug. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. Doctor, I told her I’d get her pregnant the first time we slept together. Didn’t I, omega? Didn’t I say that? And now–”

His insanely inappropriate words become background noise as you turn back to the ultrasound screen. Your baby, actually tangible and visible and with a beating heart, no less! This whole time, you’d struggled to wrap your head around the idea that there was life growing inside you. What with all the problems with Steve and the confrontations with Peter and your mother leaving you… you’d hardly had time to think about the fact that you were pregnant. All these weeks of feeling like there was a disconnect, like this was something you’d buried to the back of your mind whilst you dealt with everything else. But now…

“I can see its little heart beating.” You murmur in wonder. The little raspberry-sized thing had a heart! And it was pulsing and beating just like yours! This little thing, it was full of life! And it was growing inside you! You feel a sudden wave of protectiveness and excitement, making your own heart flutter in a way it never has before. Had this little thing been inside you this whole time, for the past two months? Depending on you as the main source of its life? Oh, it was absolutely beautiful, wonderful, magical–

“It looks like a lima bean.” Steve comments, but his whole face softens as he smiles at the screen.

Steve and Doctor Alam discuss various things. He wants to know if you’re healthy (you are) and if the baby is healthy (it is) and he also wants to know a bunch of other stuff which you should also probably pay attention to but all you can focus on is your little baby on the ultrasound monitor. You feel oddly light-hearted, but also nervous, scared, excited and in awe. Vaguely, you wonder if this is how your mother felt when she found out she was having you.

Probably not, but you guessed you’d never know. But you do know one thing: hell would freeze over before you’d leave this baby like how your mother had left you. And that’s a silent promise you make to yourself and the life growing inside of you, as you sit there on the clinic bed and stare at the ultrasound. Steve was right, you would never be like how your mother was.

The doctor gives you a picture of the scan in a little envelope when you’re on your way out. You grab it almost greedily, holding it close to your heart and repeating your silent promise to yourself. I don’t know you yet, but I will never leave you. I’m your mother and I promise you I’ll never leave you. Not when you’re four, or eighteen, or twenty-five, or even fifty. I’ll always be there for you, I promise.

Was this what all the biology textbooks meant when they spoke about omegas having a natural motherly instinct? Well, unlike Steve, you didn’t think all omegas were the same. You could only speak for yourself, and all you could say was that this burst of motherly love or whatever it was you were feeling right now, it was quite literally warming you from the inside out. You feel light and excited, holding Steve’s hand and almost skipping out the hospital.

“You look happy.” Steve comments after helping you into the car and clicking your seatbelt in.

“Aren’t you?” You pause, stroking your stomach thoughtfully, “I was so scared of this baby being a reality, but now… Well, I’m still scared now, but I also feel kind of calm and happy, as if this was meant to happen, you know? Like everything’s gonna be okay.”

Steve looks at you for several seconds before his hand joins yours against your belly. He strokes the skin softly, his blue eyes tender, “Well, I told you from the beginning that this was always meant to happen, didn’t I?”

His gaze drops down to your stomach, and he lifts your cardigan up, palm spreading flat across your bare skin. You look closely at his face, how his breathing shallows and his lips part as if in awe. It’s just your tummy, and you haven’t even begun to show yet, and yet he looks as if he’s staring at a shining diamond, and his eyes have stars in them.

“Hey, little guy. Or girl.” Steve says softly to your tummy, and your heart skips a beat at how gentle he sounds. “Hang in there, okay? You look like a lima bean right now but trust me, by the time you come out you’ll be just as cute as your mama.”

You kiss him, catching him off-guard as you surge up and grab his face, pressing your lips against his with an almost carnal desire. But he’s quick to recover, holding you gently in his arms as he kisses you back. And kissing Steve now still makes the butterflies flutter in your tummy just how they did the first time he kissed you two months ago. It still feels so special, so sweet, so right.

“Two months ago, you couldn’t even look me in the eye. Let alone kiss me.” Steve says, between kisses, smiling against your lips.

“Two months ago you were so different.” You answer breathlessly. Hell, even last week he’d been so different. Had the change in him happened slowly, gradually? Or all at once? You didn’t know, but it made you happy to see him looking at you with stars in his eyes and a genuine smile on his face.

“I’m gonna drop you home so you can rest, okay baby? I’ll join you later tonight.”

You pout. As pathetic as it sounded, you hated it when he wasn’t always with you. “Where are you going?”

He presses one final kiss to your lips before starting up the car, “I hired some movers to bring our stuff over from campus back up here. I gotta be there to oversee it all, make sure they don’t break something or miss anything.”

He was going back to campus? You feel a certain jolt in your heart, thinking about all your things sitting back there.

“Could I come too, Steve?”

“No. I want you to go home and rest.”

“Please?”

“No, omega. I don’t want you to be around a bunch of creepy movers. Not to mention how unsafe it is for a pregnant and fragile little omega like you to be around so much heavy-lifting. What if one of those idiot movers dropped something on you? I would fucking kill them...” His fist clenches against the steering wheel as if he’s already getting angry at the mere thought of that happening.

You bow your head, clutching the little envelope with your baby scan inside it as if it’s your lifeline, “Please let me come.” I hate being alone with my thoughts.

“Baby–”

Maybe it’s the way you sigh and look out the window, already shrivelling into yourself at the mere idea of being by yourself again. When just a few minutes ago, you’d been smiling from ear-to-ear, having seen your little baby inside your tummy. You hear Steve sigh.

“Fine. You can come. But stay near me, and don’t speak to any of the movers. In fact, don’t even go near them, or else I’ll call you an Uber and send you straight back home.”

***

“Well, well, well, Mr. Quarterback finally returns.” Sam grins, coming over to thump Steve on the back. The two alphas hug in that way that boys do, first clasping hands before pulling each in for a one-armed hug. You hang back and smile, things had been icy between Steve and Sam in the days after you got locked out in the rain, but clearly they had patched things up after they’d won the big game.

But what you don’t expect is Sam reaching out and pulling you in too, till you’re sandwiched between the two alphas in a tight, warm hug that you can’t help but return. You feel Steve stiffen, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he looks from you to Sam. You half expect him to lose it, but after a few seconds he relaxes. But not before lifting Sam’s arm off your waist and placing it around your shoulders instead, and shooting the other alpha a warning look.

Sam draws back and hands Steve a beer, “Here I was thinking we’d all be celebrating the end of college, and the next thing I know I’m in an empty house because you guys fucked off to God knows where.”

Your heart skips at how he’s including you, saying “you guys” instead of just Steve. Sam had apologised to you after the whole being locked out debacle, but you hadn’t spoken to him since. It still felt nice to be included, however, and so you can’t help but smile.

“I just want to apologise again,” Sam says quietly when Steve goes into the kitchen to get you an apple juice, “How we acted with you, and my whole part in it, I really am sorry–”

“It’s alright.”

The three of you toast to a happy summer to come. Steve and Sam clink their beer bottles against your glass of apple juice. You don’t know if this summer will be a happy one, but you can’t have anything worse happen to you than what’s already happened, right? It was a cynical way of looking at things but you couldn’t help that. On the bright side, at least if someone locked you out of the house now, it would be sunny outside.

The two of you go upstairs to pack. It’s easy enough for you, since you don’t have that much to begin with. But Steve had bought you a ton of new things in the two months you’d been with him, which is why you’re grateful for the new suitcases Steve had provided for you. The old, tattered suitcase you’d lugged along with you on the first day of freshman year could finally retire, along with the memories of what now felt like a past life…

Steve’s idea of packing is throwing everything into the suitcases and calling it a day. The omega inside you is horrified by this, wanting to fold and layer each piece of clothing, each book, each sheet. Savouring the memories behind each item you pack, like your polaroid camera, which you’d saved up for months to buy right before freshman year. It was meant to capture all the fun you thought you’d have…

I can use it when you’re born, you say to your tummy, and I’ll stick polaroids of you into a scrapbook, along with the scan from today. I’ll take some pictures of your dad too. And then when you’re grown up, you can look through it.

Speaking of books, you quietly grab the black sketchbook from underneath the bed when Steve isn’t looking, safely stashing it in your bag.

“Where the hell are those movers?” Steve glances at his watch, “I want to us to get back home before sunset.”

Home. Steve’s house. You supposed it was your home now, but you knew it would take time for you to feel like it was. You peak outside Steve’s bedroom window, taking in the campus courtyard for what felt like the last time. Would you come back here for your second year? How would that even work with you pregnant? How could you ever complete your degree with a baby to take care of too? That is, if Steve would even allow it.

“A bunch of my stuff is still at my old dorm room.” You say suddenly.

Steve wrinkles his nose, “Really? Is it anything important?”

He had slowly moved your things into his room when you’d started living with him, but he hadn’t brought along everything. You didn’t have much, but a lot of your old clothes were still there. Your scuffed sneakers (he’d bought you new ones) and the bag you’d sewed yourself out of your old jeans (he’d bought you a designer one to use instead). You supposed you didn’t have much use for your old things, but they were still yours, and you wanted them.

“Yes.” You say firmly, “Please could I go over there and check over my things?” What would even happen to them if you didn’t? Would they just go in the trash? Forgotten forever just like you’d been forgotten by your mother? No, you couldn’t let that happen.

But Steve shakes his head, “We can’t go right now, I need to be here when the movers get here.”

You bite your lip, “I could just go myself.” Your old dorm room was only on the other side of campus, where the cheaper accommodation was.

“No. You know you can’t go by yourself.”

“But Steve–”

“I said no.”

You sit down on the edge of the bed. It’s been stripped down to just the mattress, but you remember a time when it was covered in your flowery sheets that you’d brought over from your old dorm. A memory. Everything was slipping by so quickly… Your childhood home, your dorm, this bedroom, and now Steve’s mansion. Just for a second, you wish you could freeze time and breathe, and gain a little bit of control over what’s happening around you.

Steve crouches in front of you, taking your hands in his, “Look, I can’t let you go by yourself. The last time I left you by yourself…” His voice trails off and his eyes narrow, and you know he’s thinking of the day of the football game.

“If you think Peter’s gonna come back and take me again, he won’t.” You say, “I think he’s well and truly done with me now, and I don’t think I’ll ever hear from him again.” You can still picture the hurt in his eyes when he’d seen the mark on your neck, and when he’d seen you stay with Steve. From the deepest part of your heart, you mourn the loss of your friendship with him… Maybe one day you could talk to him and repair it?

Steve opens his mouth to say something, and you wait for him to curse Peter out, or say something awful about him. But he pauses when he sees the sad look on your face, and instead he sighs. You know he’s on a path to changing his ways, and you know it’s not easy for him. But you can see he’s trying, with the way his features soften and he kisses your hand instead.

“You really want to go back there right now?”

“Yes, please.”

Steve gives Sam express instructions on how to deal with the movers, telling him that the two of you would be back with half an hour. You figure that’ll be more than enough time to survey over your remaining things and pick what you want to take with you. A part of you feels emotional, as if not just a chapter, but an entire novel of your life is ending and you don’t know if the next book has even been confirmed. It’s weird, this mix of excitement you feel for the future which included the baby in your tummy, and this sense of bittersweet loss you also felt as if your college life was coming to a premature end.

Your dorm room looks exactly the same as how you’d left it. You haven’t been back since the day Sharon confronted you, and Steve had taken you to his house. Smell was the biggest carrier of nostalgia, and here you could smell so many memories… A girl, once eager and hopeful, happy to be at a prestigious university and away from the demons she’d left behind at home. Oh, you’d been so excited to live on your own!

“I don’t like being in here.” Steve says, clearing his throat uncomfortably and reaching out to squeeze your hand. “I was an asshole to you in this room.”

You turn back to him, and the two of you share a meaningful look where a lot is said despite nothing being said out loud at all. You know he’s sorry, you can see the remorse on his face and you can feel it in the bond you share. You know he wishes he could take it all back, and you wish to God that he’d been then what he was becoming now.

You grab your DIY bag made out of your old, patchy jeans, and a few of your hoodies which you’d stopped wearing and left behind because Steve had bought you new clothes. You rifle through all your old keychains and knick-knacks, remembering how Steve had done the same thing when he’d first come here. Moving on to your desk, you see the old notes still strewn about on the wooden surface, including the essay plan you’d so meticulously constructed for Steve when he’d come over for “tutoring.”

“You’re reliving old memories, aren’t you?” Steve asks tonelessly.

You nod. There are bad ones, but you try to focus on the good: your first time kissing him, how he’d gifted you Steve Junior…

His arms wrap around your waist from behind, and he hugs you hard. Holding you, rocking with you while you both seem lost in thought. His hand slips down, fingers splaying out over your stomach.

“We’ll make new memories. The three of us.”

That makes you smile. “Really, Steve?”

“Yes. I’ll be better. I swear I will.”

You pack your bag with the few belongings you want to take with you. Steve tries to help, but soon gets a call from the movers.

“What do you mean you can’t fit the bed frame into the van? Have you tried using your brain and maybe dismantling it?”

The response is cut up and almost inaudible, the connection extremely weak. He frowns, “I can’t hear you.”

More muffled sounds.

Steve groans, “Baby, I’m gonna take this outside, okay? Stay in here.”

You nod, distracted by all your old things surrounding you. You’ve always been a sentimental person, romanticising mundane things that other people wouldn’t glance at twice. Like your bottle of cheap suppressants that Steve had rattled around and looked at with such disdain. Your old keychains, your empty lip-glosses, you don’t know how long you sit there and reminisce about your old life that seems like it was ions ago instead of just a few months.

You don’t even hear the door when it opens.

“You know, this is how I always imagined it.”

His voice sends shivers down your spine, a coldness spreading through your veins that’s as icy as his eyes. You swallow, turning around slowly and holding on to the hope that maybe it’s not him. Oh God, please let it not be him. But it is.

Bucky stands at the doorway, a glint in his eye as he looks you up and down. You feel a sense of impending doom, your heart sinking down to the depths. Oh, but shouldn’t you have expected this? He was, after all, one of the problems you’d pushed aside, tried to run away from. Out of sight, out of mind – and yet here he was now. You swallow harshly, and you will yourself to be brave despite the fact that your hands are shaking. You don’t want him here; you don’t want him near you.

“Wh-What are you doing here?” You ask, hating how your voice comes out shaky.

“Sweetheart, it’s been weeks since we last spoke. And you can’t even say hello?” Bucky smiles, but there’s something wooden about it, something off. Something you can’t really put your finger on or even care to. “I mean, Sam got a hug from you. I saw it. I’m sure I should get the same treatment, right? Or maybe something more…” Calmly, he shuts the door behind him, and then you hear the click of the lock. Your heart jumps to your throat, panic beginning to set in. It’s okay, Steve’s only just outside, you think to yourself.

You clear your throat, narrowing your eyes in a bid to look more confident than you’re actually feeling, “The last time I saw you, you locked me out of the house in the pouring rain.”

He steps towards you and you instinctively take a step back. He notices and smirks, as if he finds your actions amusing. “Oh, right. I feel bad about that, but you were getting too big for your boots, sweetheart.”

“Just because I refused to kiss you?” You feel anger at his words, and it overrides your fear for just a second. You remember him twisting your arm when you didn’t kiss him, remember how he’d slammed the door in your face, how he’d sat there scrolling nonchalantly on his phone while you pounded at the door, drenched in the rain and begging him to let you in. Oh, how you wish you weren’t a weak omega just for a few moments, just so you could stand toe-to-toe with someone like him!

Instead, you cower as he crosses the room, and he’s only inches away from you when your back hits your desk and you can’t back away any more. And that’s when he smirks, reaching out to move your hair out of your face. You blanche, feeling your skin crawl at his touch.

“I saw you first.” He breathes.

“Th-That doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.” His eyes flutter shut for a second and he inhales deeply, “You smell so fucking sweet. The day I first saw you, all I could think about was how beautiful you were, and how badly I wanted to smell your scent but you were on those damn suppressants.” He opens his eyes and you see them darken, “Steve could smell you immediately, and I hated that. I hated that he was the only one who could.”

“Bucky, he’s right outside. He’ll be back any second.”

“He gets everything he ever wants,” Bucky’s tone hardens, and he surges forward, pressing up against you. You struggle against him, trying to somehow squeeze out from between him and the desk but he grips your arm, digging his fingers into your skin painfully to keep you in place. “Ever since we were kids… He got everything. A better car, a higher allowance. He got better girls and better grades and they made him the captain of the football team.”

Your jaw would have dropped open had it not been frozen in place with fear. Seriously? Those were his problems? That Steve had a better car? If you weren’t so scared out of your damn mind, you would’ve laughed. Somehow, you doubt Bucky ever had an alcoholic, absentee mother with a string of abusive boyfriends. You doubt his parents had ever left him. You know he’d never grown up in poverty, you know he’d never been bullied relentlessly. Oh, you wish you had his problems…

“But then you walked in and I called dibs and for once, for fucking once… I had something he wanted.” Bucky’s finger trails down your arm before he grabs your waist, pushing himself into you. You gasp, fists going up to his chest to push him off you but to no avail. Oh God, where was Steve?!

A bitter laugh escapes from Bucky’s throat, “But of course, he lied and manipulated his way into claiming you too. Down to his core, that’s who Steve is. That’s what he does.” His icy blue eyes look distant, as if he’s in another dimension inside his head – that’s the only way you can describe it. But then he snaps back to peer at your face, excitement covering his features and chilling you down to the core as you cringe away from him, subconsciously patting at the envelope containing your baby scan inside your pocket, as if to calm yourself down.

“But this isn’t about Steve, sweetheart. This is about you. Little Miss Omega who’s gotten too big for her boots. You got with an alpha and all of a sudden you think you’re the queen of the world, don’t you?” He yanks at your hair, and you cry out in pain as he drags you to your old bed.

Cold, incapacitating fear overtakes you when he pushes you down on the mattress. You land on your back with a thump, immediately trying to roll away but he grabs your leg and pulls you back before climbing on top of you. Oh no, oh no, please. God, please no…

“Bucky, don’t do this!”

“You think you’re too good for me, huh?” Bucky sneers, his face inches from yours. His hands move to grab your cardigan, ripping it apart. He doesn’t even flinch as the buttons fly everywhere, smirking maniacally down at you as you scramble to hold your tattered cardigan together. “You think you’re too good to kiss me? Well, sweetheart, I’ve dreamed of this moment. And I assure you, we’ll be doing a lot more than just kissing tonight…”

“Bucky, don’t! I’m pregnant, okay? I’m pregnant!” You scream out desperately, hoping and praying that he’d have a little bit of sympathy inside him to just stop. If not for your sake, then maybe for the sake of your unborn child. He wouldn’t hurt a pregnant woman, would he?

Bucky does stop, for just a moment. His hand freezes in the middle of trying to peel the remains of your cardigan off you and you see something register in the depths of his pale, icy eyes. But it only lasts a nanosecond, before they cloud over and he smiles, pressing his forehead against yours. “That’s okay, sweetheart. We’ll just pretend it’s mine.”

Oh, he was crazy! Utterly and completely crazy! And you don’t know what to do! Because when have you ever gone into a confrontation and come out on top? Hell, you couldn’t even hold your own against another omega like Sharon… let alone an alpha twice your size like Bucky. Steve, where are you? Please save me, please, please, please!

“Bucky stop, okay? I know you’re mad at Steve and… and you’re upset you didn’t get what you wanted b-but this isn’t the way to–”

He kisses you. And oh, it’s horrible! It feels like you’re being squeezed into a tight black hole where you can’t breathe and you can’t move and it’s just so wrong. Everything about it is wrong, like two misfit pieces from opposite ends of a puzzle. He’s rough yet almost robotic with how he kisses you, his kiss lacking any of the passion and fire you feel with Steve. It’s even worse than when Peter kissed you… oh, because Bucky’s kiss feels like it’s charged with hatred, and anger, and malice, and–

“GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!”

You push with all your might, the shrillness of your words surprising you both. It catches him off guard, and you do something you’ve never done before in your life. You spit right in his face, sneering up at him defiantly. You’re sick of every single one of these fucking men kissing you when you didn’t want them to. Enough was enough.

“Little Miss Omega likes to play rough, huh?” Bucky quickly recovers, wiping your spit off his face and keeping you pinned down underneath him, “That’s alright. Fight against me all you want, but you and I both know you’re just a weak little omega. You never stood a chance, sweetheart. Not against any of us.”

Long ago, when you’d been standing on the porch in a thunderstorm, you’d made a promise to yourself to never beg him again. Something had snapped inside you then, flushing out all hope from inside you. Something snaps inside you now, too. But it does the complete opposite.

“You’re right, I’m weak compared to you. But at least I’m not pathetic.”

Bucky scoffs, opening his mouth but you beat him to it.

“I used to be scared of all of you alphas. You all looked so strong, powerful and untouchable to me. But what I’ve realised is that each one of you is more insecure than the next. Especially you, Bucky. And I feel sorry for you, because I can take all the bullying and the harassment and everything else that’s happened to me, but you can’t take even the slightest bit of rejection. You’re pathetic.”

He pauses, regarding you with narrowed eyes. And again, you see a semblance of something human glimmer across his face before his features twist into a snarl. “Save the condescending philosophy lesson for later, sweetheart. I’m not interested.”

He tries to kiss you again, but you turn your head because hell would freeze over before you let someone kiss you unwillingly again. His hands are all over your body, trying to get your clothes off you except you don’t give him a chance. You thrash wildly underneath him, something feral taking over from inside you. This wild survival instinct, this need to keep yourself and the baby safe. And the whole time during this physical tousle, you’re thinking: please don’t let him hurt my baby, please let my baby come out of this okay, even if I don’t. I don’t want to lose it… I know I didn’t pay attention to it at first, but I don’t want to lose it. Please, please, please, I don’t want to lose my baby.

“Let me fucking have this!” Bucky roars, pinning your hands over your head. You can feel the tears well in your eyes but you don’t want to spill any over him, over this. He roughly kisses up your jaw, “I went home these past couple of weeks to clear my head, and all I could fucking think about was you. I wanted you first, so just let me have this, okay? Fucking kiss me back! Spread your legs for me like you did for the first alpha who ever glanced your way.”

“STEVE!” You scream, growing more desperate by the second, “STEVE, PLEASE HELP!”

Bucky laughs wickedly, “He’s not coming to save you, sweetheart. I made sure of it.”

His words unlock something even more feral in you, but it’s when he splays his hand over your tummy that you completely lose it. In a way you never have before. How dare he? How fucking dare he?

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!”

You ram your knee up, catching him straight on his crotch. Bucky grunts, falling on top of you. His hands let go of yours as he goes to clutch between his legs. You try to push him off you but he’s too big, too heavy.

“You stupid fucking slut,” Bucky swears, trying to grab at you with one hand but you know this is the only opening you’ll ever get. His face is grimaced in pain, and you’ve never been a violent person but you figure now is the best time to change that. You scratch at his face, shoving and pushing at him to get him off you. He grabs your wrist again, but you assume you got him hard on his crotch because it’s thrown him off his game. And you knee him again, this time catching him in his abdomen. The kick isn’t too hard, and Bucky barely flinches but it does distract him enough to allow you to slip out from underneath him.

You run to the door, managing to unlock it before Bucky grabs you by the waist and pulls you back. And now you really feel like crying, because you were so close… So fucking close…

Was this how it was going to end? Had God really written this in your fate? On top of everything else shitty that had happened to you since the day you were fucking born? No, it couldn’t be. You wouldn’t let it. You were sick of bad things happening to you while you stood there and cried and let them. If he was going to do this, you were going to fight till the end. You owed that to yourself, and your baby too.

“I hate you, you pathetic piece of shit!” You spit out, clawing and writhing as he half drags and half carries you back to the bed. Never in your life have you called anyone such a name but it just comes out of you with such vitriol, born out of both the fear and anger you feel right now. “I was only ever nice to you, despite how awful you all treated me! But you just can’t take rejection, and that is not my fault! You’re a pathetic, privileged jerk!”

“You could’ve loved me if it weren’t for Steve.” Bucky sneers, pulling your hair back and scowling at Steve’s mark on your neck. He bares his teeth, poised to bite. No, no, no, no! You punch, kick, writhe, claw, and–

“Are you done packing? Some asshole slashed my tires and–”

It’s like the whole world freezes when the door opens and Steve steps into the room. You freeze mid-fight, and Bucky does too. Steve does too. Pin drop silence. Not a single sound. Just the three of you staring at each other. And then…

“See what your slut of an omega is capable of, Steve?” Bucky says, gesturing at you while your jaw drops open in shock at what he’s saying. The brunette alpha’s eyes are as wild as his hair, and he’s breathing hard with an almost maniacal look on his face, “You see? Do you see this, Steve? She couldn’t wait to get on my dick the moment your back was turned. Guess you were right about her being the campus slut after all.”

For a moment, you’re rendered speechless. You watch Steve closely as he takes in what’s in front of him. You and Bucky on your bed, him practically on top of you, your hair dishevelled, your cardigan torn in half with the buttons broken. Oh no, Steve couldn’t possibly believe…?

“No.” You say firmly, your voice unwavering because if there was ever a time for you to be as clear as possible, it was now. “He’s lying. He came on to me, Steve. Like he’s been doing for months now.”

Bucky scoffs, “Oh yeah? Is that why you never told him that until now?”

Steve is motionless, stoic and his expression unreadable as he looks from you to his best friend and back to you again.

“Steve, he attacked me.” You look squarely into your alpha’s eyes, trying to sound confident but you can’t keep the desperate plea from your tone. “He’s been acting weird with me behind your back for months, and I know I didn’t tell you and I tried to brush it off but–”

“She’s a fucking liar,” Bucky cuts you off, “A fucking slut who wants two alphas at the same time. Me and her have been flirting for months behind your back, and she was enjoying every second of it, that’s why she never told you. She’s a goddamned slut, Steve, and she fooled us both with her innocent act.”

Each lie is like a punch to your gut, and you turn to stare at him in complete dismay. You could not fathom how someone could lie so cleanly, so unashamedly. And Steve? Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“That’s not true…” You say softly, not having it in you to say anything else.

“It is true, and you know it’s true, Steve,” Bucky claims, and he looks calmer now, as if he knows Steve will believe him and it breaks your fucking heart, the broken pieces sinking down to the depths of your tummy. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Steve, you know that–”

“Omega, step out of the room.” Steve says quietly. It’s an alpha command, because you feel your legs moving before you know what’s happening. You cross the bedroom, trying to catch Steve’s gaze but he won’t look at you. His eyes are locked on Bucky.

What follows is total carnage. The moment you cross the threshold, stepping out of the room and out of harm’s way, Steve attacks. Letting out an almighty snarl, he shoots across the room, pouncing on Bucky like a rabid animal. Bucky, clearly not expecting the attack, crashes to the ground with Steve on top of him. You wince when the brunet alpha’s head hits the floor, but Steve looks possessed, his face red and eyes narrowed to slits. And he throws punch after punch against Bucky’s face, and you can hear the repeated crack of his fist against his jaw.

You press your hand over your stomach as if to shield it, knowing you can’t step back into the bedroom to stop them even if you wanted to.

Bucky recovers quickly, and it’s different from Peter because Bucky matches Steve’s size and strength. He punches Steve back, his face screwed up in disgust as if he can’t fathom why Steve is attacking him.

“You’d believe her over me?!” Bucky roars, “You pussy-whipped piece of shit, you’d believe that slut over your best fucking friend?!”

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TALK ABOUT HER!” Steve’s voice rings across the whole room, and probably the whole building.

Bucky coughs, his lip swollen and his eye already blackening, but he’s still fighting back. “She’s a slut, and you’re a fucking joke for defending her–”

CRACK.

You’re sure Steve has broken Bucky’s jaw with how hard he punches him and how sickening the crack sounds. And he doesn’t stop there, grabbing Bucky by the throat while the brunet tries to recover underneath him.

“Don’t – you – ever – fucking – touch – her – again – you – piece – of – shit!” Each word is enunciated with Steve slamming Bucky’s head on the hard wood floor. And you look on in absolute horror, feeling torn because you hate Bucky with everything you have, because he’d just assaulted you and lied and he’d been awful to you and didn’t he deserve this? And yet you can’t bear to see such a display of violence…

“You always got everything!” Bucky sputters, and this admission catches Steve off-guard enough for Bucky to shove him off and tackle him to the ground, and now it’s Bucky’s turn to throw the punches, battering Steve’s face with renewed vigour. “You can’t have her too, you can’t–”

And you almost step back into the room, but you know you can’t put yourself and your baby in danger like that. You desperately look around, seeing if you can call for help. But who would come between these two alphas? And deep down, you knew they needed to hash it out.

They fight and fight, throwing punches and slamming and tackling each other all over the room. Swearing and cussing, spitting out words of venom. You run down the hall, banging on the other doors, hoping someone would help and break them apart. But no one answers, and you know no one would come within ten feet of two furious alphas.

You run back to your dorm room, making sure to stay outside just like Steve told you to. But your heart lurches at the bruises on Steve’s face, the beginnings of a black eye forming as Bucky continues to hit him.

“Stop!” You scream at Bucky, “Please, leave him alone!”

It’s like your voice snaps something inside Steve, and with the strength of his whole body, he pushes Bucky off of him. Smooth as a panther, he gets to his feet, landing several hard kicks on his friend’s ribs and abdomen. His face is battered and angry, feral yet still unreadable. It’s his best friend he’s fighting, and you can see that in how his features twist in disbelief mixed with animalistic fury.

And it’s with that same blind fury that he picks up your entire desk like it’s nothing. And you look on in horror, watch all your books and notes fall to the ground. Bucky looks too, his mouth bloody and parted in dismay as Steve lifts the heavy wooden desk over his head, poised on top of Bucky’s twitching body.

“Steve, don’t! You’ll kill him!” Or at least cause irreversible damage.

“He deserves it. He hurt you.” Steve’s voice comes out menacing as he looks straight at Bucky and only at Bucky, “All this fucking time, and right under my fucking nose...”

He kicks Bucky again, hard on the stomach and Bucky doubles over in pain. And Steve still stands over him, still gripping the huge desk as if it’s nothing. And you can’t imagine the damage he’d do if he let it fall on Bucky’s head, let alone slam it down with force.

But something seems to snap in Steve when he sees Bucky bent over in pain before he lies flat as if he’s resigned to his fate. And there’s blood gushing out of Bucky’s nose and his mouth, and his face is almost beaten to a pulp, and his eyes look glazed over, barely alert.

With a sigh, Steve sets the desk back down to the side, and then collapses next to Bucky. Sat down on the floor next to his friend who twitches in pain, and Steve looks at him in both disbelief and pity.

“You were my best friend.” Steve whispers, and it comes out broken and resigned. They stare at each other for a few seconds, and then neither of them says anything more, and Bucky turns away on his side, and Steve gets up and leaves him.

He makes his way to you, and you rush over to him. For a handful of moments, no one speaks. He hugs you hard, harder than usual but that’s not very shocking given the circumstances. He takes his jacket off and helps you put it on, and you welcome the warmth it brings you, his rich scent calming you down.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Yes. Are you?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you from him before.”

“That’s alright, you didn’t know.”

Steve refuses to look at Bucky even once more, and you know it’s because he’s afraid his anger will make him do something he’d later regret. So it’s you who uses Steve’s phone to call Sam to come help the brunet alpha, who is teetering on unconscious but fortunately still alive.

“No one’s gonna hurt you again.” Steve vows, holding on to tighter than ever, and you lean into him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Warm, safe, relieved, you feel all of it as your adrenaline finally begins to come down.

“I know they won’t. I won’t let them, and you won’t either. I’m glad it’s all over now.”

***

The sun is shining as you and Steve set out across the grounds of his family home. The gardens stretch out across acres, so beautifully kept and flourishing, yielding all types of different flowers that are in full bloom. As you walk across what looks to be an entire field of yellow roses, you notice that Steve plucks one out every few steps, till he’s got a bunch of them grasped in his fist, and with gentle hands he expertly picks the thorns off.

You stop at a patch of green grass under a pretty looking tree, and that’s where you set your picnic basket down. Steve Junior smiles up at you from inside the wicker, and he seems to begrudgingly extend that smile to Steve too, which makes you happy. Steve helps you sit down as the sun splashes down on all three of you, and a gentle breeze makes your dress flow.

It’s been weeks since the whole ordeal with your mother leaving and then with Bucky. The first few days immediately after it were tough, as both you and Steve came to terms with different things. Steve went through periods of anger so strong, he wanted to get in the car and pay Bucky another visit. He couldn’t believe what Bucky had been doing to you behind his back, and once you told him the details, he was nothing short of livid. You’d often find him just sitting there, deep in thought about it all, formulating plans of revenge and plotting to take Bucky down. You told him that Bucky’s own insecurities and bitterness were his downfall, and to not worry about him anymore. You certainly wouldn’t.

As for you, you found that your mother leaving you would always linger in the back of your mind – at least for the foreseeable future. That made you sad, but you also found that it wasn’t too hard to continue life with this information. At first, you didn’t know what you wanted to do. Track her down and yell at her for being so heartless? Ignore her existence and carry on, just like how she was doing with you?

Well, you decided to take it one day at a time. And you’d already spent one whole year of university without your mother, and in a way, it was practice to what was now becoming your new normal. Despite her imperfections and shortcomings, it still sucked being left behind by her. But all you could do now was slowly piece yourself back together and hope that you’d never have to go through anything traumatic like that ever again.

To his credit, Steve did his best to distract you in the weeks following that fateful visit to your childhood home, as well as the ordeal with Bucky. Or maybe he was trying to distract himself from his own worries and concerns… about you and about his mother, and about his former best friend. True to his impulsive style, he’d wanted to take you on vacation right away for a change of scenery, as an escape. You told him that his family’s mansion was vacation enough for you, what with the gazillion pools and the luxurious interiors and hundreds of other features which you had yet to explore.

It's in these few weeks that you got to know Steve ways you never had in the two months you’d known him prior to this. The two of you went swimming together in one of his pools (Steve wouldn’t let go of you at first, afraid that you’d drown or somehow put the baby at risk. But he changed gears pretty quickly once you beat him in a freestyle race, although he scoffed and claimed he was going easy on you).

You cooked together too (well, it was originally just you cooking, as you always did for him, but Mrs. Rogers pushed him into the kitchen to help you, and once Steve saw how sharp the knives were and how hot the oven was, he immediately put himself in charge. “Try the mashed potatoes, Mom. I made those,” he had boasted over dinner that night, and his mother had smiled at him indulgently, and shot you a wink).

You also gave him his sketchbook which you’d retrieved from under the bed. He was shocked that you knew about it and that you’d brought it back, and you told him how touched you were seeing how much he’d drawn you and how talented he was. He played it off at first, tossing the sketchbook aside and telling you he didn’t draw much anymore. But then one day you caught him sketching what you guessed was his mother. In his sketch, she was on her feet, pretty and full of life. Dancing amongst a flower garden, a little blonde boy holding her hand. It moved you so much, you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him tightly, as if to tell him that it would all be okay. In those moments, you felt more bonded to him than the mark on your neck ever made you feel.

Speaking of Mrs. Rogers, her health remained the same. But she did seem to light up when Mr. Rogers finally came home. You were so shy, especially when you noted the formal way in which he greeted his son. Steve’s dad looked a lot like Steve, just older and more mellow, a touch of sadness in his eyes. But he greeted you warmly, and told you that he was happy his son had found you.

And then he turned to his wife, and it was amazing how his face morphed completely, as if he had hearts in his eyes. They’d left you and Steve to your own devices, and later, when you walked by their room, you saw them dancing together. Well, she was fragile and weak, and stood on his shoes while he moved around the room. But it was very cute, and you weren’t used to seeing parents love each other like this, and so you stood transfixed for longer than you cared to admit. And then Steve dragged you away to go do some activity around the house.

Nevertheless, slowly, in these past few weeks, you’d begun to feel happy again. It happened very gradually, and yet so naturally at the same time. You allowed yourself to enjoy this new side of Steve, this loving and laidback side of him that you just couldn’t get enough of. You found yourself waking up and looking forward to spending the day with him, finding out what activities he had planned for the day, giggling at the thought of doing something fun or romantic with him.

Today’s activity was a picnic in the Rogers’ family estate’s never-ending gardens. Steve had picked out a pretty yellow dress for you (it was too hot for a hoodie) and he’d helped dress you, too. He was treating you like you were made of glass, babying you more than ever before. You wondered whether it was because you were pregnant, or because of everything you’d been through. Either way, you liked how he sat you in his lap and cooed at you as he slipped the lacy socks on your feet, how he kissed your neck and told you how beautiful you were. It made you feel special, how only he could.

“For you.” Steve holds out his makeshift bouquet of yellow roses, all but thrusting them into your hands with comical haste, as if he’s afraid something will come up and snatch them away. But you accept them happily, admiring how pretty they look.

“They’re beautiful,” you bring them up to your nose and give them a delicate sniff, “Yellow is the colour of hope.”

“It’s also your favourite colour.”

You nod, pleased that he knows this. “It is!”

It’s when you’re both sat down under the tree, that he takes both your hands in his, and looks at you with meaningful eyes.

“I don’t think you know how much you mean to me.”

“Steve–”

“I love every single thing about you. I love how brave you are, and how resilient no matter what life throws at you.” He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I love your eyes, your nose, your mouth,” he kisses each of the features that he’s listed down, till you’re giggling and looking up at him in awe. “I love how smart you are, the way you knew all the answers during classes but you were too shy to raise your hand. I love how you mouthed the answers to yourself anyways, and I love how you were always right.”

You feel a surge of emotion, but he’s not done.

“I love how you rehearse your order under your breath whenever we go out to eat, and I love how relieved you look when I order for you instead. I love your big hoodies even though I told you before that you shouldn’t wear them. You look cute in them, actually. I always secretly thought that.”

He takes a velvet case out of his pocket, and your breath catches in your throat. Whatever you were going to say dies away, and you look on as he opens the box. The diamond glints in the sunlight, so blindingly bright and pretty, attached to a delicate gold band.

“I know I’ve promised you many things in the past, and I’ve hurt you and broken those promises, too. But I’m telling you now that I will love and protect you and our baby with my whole life. And I want you to be my wife, so I can take care of you. So, baby, will you marry–”

“Yes!” You cut him off, unable to wait any longer because you feel this bursting happiness in your heart. You kiss him hard, catching him off-guard but he recovers quickly, holding you gently in his lap while your mouth moves against his. His hand splays over your tummy, and you really do feel loved. Perhaps for the first time in your whole life… you really do feel loved.

He slips the ring on your finger and you admire how perfectly it fits. And then the two of you kiss some more, bathing in the sunlight of the hot summer’s day, and in a way, you feel like you were always meant to end up here. That this was that hot summer’s day you’d always been yearning for every time you’d looked at him and felt that hunger, that longing…

You feel it now too, almost tenfold. And you draw back, taking in a deep breath. It happens suddenly and yet it’s the surest you’ve ever felt about anything ever. You push aside the neckline of shirt, till enough of his neck is bare to you. And then you bite down hard. Not too hard at first, because you’re afraid of hurting him. But then that feral feeling takes over you, and you hold his biceps tightly to steady yourself, and you bite down till you feel his skin breaking.

You lick and suck against his pale, broken skin as he holds you close, holding your head in place as if there’s nowhere else he’d rather want you to be. And when you pull away and see the little jagged mark you’ve left on him, a thrill ripples through you like no other.

Now he was yours too.

“Did that hurt?” You ask him.

He scoffs, ever the macho alpha. But there’s love in his eyes when he speaks. “A little. But it’s a good kind of hurt.”

You pepper kisses on your mark, trying to soothe any pain you may have caused him. And then he cups your face with his hands and catches your lips with his own, giving you the most passionate kiss you’ve ever felt from him.

“Steve?” You say breathlessly between kisses.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you too.”

The end.

***

EPILOGUE – ONE YEAR LATER

You don’t know if it’s the nightmare that jolts you awake, or if it’s the sound of Rosie crying. But you wake up to a dark, empty room. The bed is empty, save for you. You scramble up to see that Rosie’s crib is empty too (you keep it right next to your bed because you need to know she’s there all the time). But she’s not here right now, and neither is Steve, and that dark voice inside your head, the one you’ve worked so hard to keep out, begins to cackle… They’ve both left you…

You jump to your feet, heart hammering like crazy. But you find Steve in Rosie’s nursery, with your little baby girl in his arms. Or his one arm, and she looks so tiny and comfy, nestled on her dad as he gently rocks her, holding her bottle in his opposite hand. You immediately sag in relief.

Steve looks up at you, “She was crying so I came to check on her. I thought I’d let you sleep.”

You let out a ragged breath, “I thought you’d left me.”

Often, you wonder if he’s sick of your whole “I thought you’d left me” thing. There have been many occasions in the past year, where you’ve gone to that dark place in your mind, where you’ve woken up in the dark and somehow convinced yourself that he’s gone and he’s taken your Rosie with him. You still have nightmares about this happening. Not every night, but enough times that you’ve woken up crying.

Your therapist says that trauma and insecurities don’t heal overnight. That it’ll take time for you to completely believe that no one is ever going to leave you again like how your parents did. And that it’s important for you to have a strong support system that makes you feel reassured and safe. And Steve never hesitates to tell you that he’s never leaving you, that he’s right here, that everything’s okay. You’re amazed at how much patience he has when it comes to this, but he does, and you’re grateful for it.

Now, he lets you hold Rosie before gathering you in his arms and kissing the top of your head. “I’m right here, baby. It’s all okay, I’m never leaving you.”

You calm down, letting him lead you to the armchair in the corner of the nursery. He sits down, pulling you on top of him and switching on the lamp. Rosie coos in your arms, awake and smiling despite it being the middle of the night. She’s such a happy baby, and you love that about her because she makes you happy too. So overwhelmingly happy, that you want to smother her face in kisses and cuddle her all day and all night.

She nestles closer against your bosom, and you and Steve both watch her in awe. She’s so special, so perfect. Only five months old and yet you can’t imagine your life without her. When she was born, she’d been so, so tiny and she’d cried so much, but you’d held her against your chest and she’d calmed down, and it made you feel so needed, so wanted.

Steve had been scared to hold her at first, convinced that he’d somehow hurt her. You also suspected that he was afraid she’d cry if he held her, reject him somehow. But those little fears had gone away quickly, probably because she was so cute and he couldn’t resist cuddling her, even when she was a newborn and practically just the size of his hand. And you couldn’t get enough of watching him with her, because a year ago he’d been a cruel fratboy hell-bent on his mean ways. And now?

Now he was a father. And your husband.

The wedding had been small, just you (pregnant and beginning to show) and Steve and his parents. “I don’t want anyone else there, Steve. Just us. Please,” you had begged. Maybe it was because his friends weren’t your friends, or maybe it was because you were insecure that you’d have no one there for you. No one to walk you down the aisle, no one to go pick your wedding dress with, just no one at all.

Steve had agreed – it was your special day after all. Mrs. Rogers – hell-bent on making it to her son’s wedding despite the fact that she had to do so in a wheelchair – helped you pick your dress by having a large selection delivered to the house. You’d chosen a flowy dress that reached till your knees, and you’d gotten married on a private beach owned by the Rogers family. And despite the fact that it was Steve’s father who walked you down the aisle instead of your own, you felt happy.

You’d even received a card from Peter, congratulating you on your marriage. The message was brief, but it touched you nonetheless. You’d spoken to him once more after the day of the big game when he’d tried to save you from Steve. It had taken a while to persuade Steve to let you see him, but you felt like you needed this closure, and so did Peter. And so, in a coffee shop with Steve waiting in the car outside, you’d sat across from Peter and apologised from the bottom of your heart. You’d told him how you never meant to hurt him, but how you really felt you belonged with Steve.

You also told him you were pregnant, and that got him to crack a smile. He told you that you didn’t need to apologise, and that if this was what you truly wanted, then he wouldn’t stop you from living your happiness. He looked you in the eye and told you you’d be a great mother, and he wished you all the best. He also told you that he had to move on with his life, but he’d be there if you ever needed him.

You knew you could never truly be friends with Peter again, not in the way you were before. But his card meant a lot to you anyways.

Steve received congratulatory calls and cards from a bunch of different people, one of them being Sam. He was off traveling the world, and he’d met a girl called Wanda who he wanted to settle down with. He told Steve that he hoped you all could hang out when he brought her back. You told Steve to tell him that you’d like that very much.

After getting married, the two of you had decided to stay in the Rogers’ mansion, much to Mrs. Rogers’ glee. Steve had told you that his family had an apartment on the upper east side as well as one in Brooklyn that you guys could move in to, if you so pleased. He also said that once he’d settled in with a proper job, he’d begin building a dream house for the two of you and your future family. He was currently working in his dad’s company which he was set to take over, but he wanted to go into politics too.

You were happy to stay in the mansion, however. You enjoyed Mrs. Rogers’ company, and you really considered her a friend. Finally, a friend. An unlikely one, but a friend nevertheless. She was stark and honest about her cancer, and it filled you with sorrow knowing that she wouldn’t be here forever. Steve was still confident that she’d get better (or that was how he acted) and Mrs. Rogers told you that you’d have to be strong when the day came, because she knew that he wouldn’t be.

By some miracle, you’d also persuaded Steve to let you go back to university. He wasn’t thrilled about it, but you remembered Mrs. Rogers’ advice on how he’d listen to you when it truly came down to it. And he had, he had, he had! You had just finished your sophomore year, having done most of it online, and passed all your exams with flying colours. You didn’t know if you were going to go back for junior year this fall or if you’d differ it till next year (since Rosie took up so much of your time) but you knew you had the option either way, which you liked.

But right now, at this very moment in time, you’re content just to watch Rosie babble and coo in your arms. Steve strokes her chubby cheek and her little fist grabs his pinkie finger, and your heart just feels so full, your nightmare already forgotten and almost laughable in comparison to how happy you feel right now, encased in your little family. A family of your very own, just like Steve had promised you so long ago.

“She looks exactly like you.” Steve comments softly, and you chirp happily in agreement. Rosie did have a few of Steve’s features, like his freckles. But everything else was so… you. Often, Steve compared her to the baby picture he had of you in his wallet, the one he’d taken from your childhood room, and the resemblance was uncanny. She was you all over again.

“She does, doesn’t she?” You smile, hugging her close. And then your heart drops, and you feel your eyes well with tears at the sudden overwhelming thought of being unable to protect her. “I don’t want her to be like me, Steve. I don’t want her to be shunned and bullied, and unable to stand up for herself. I don’t, I can’t, I…”

He shushes you with kisses, scenting you and calming you down like how he always does, stroking your face and gathering your tears on his fingers. Rosie gazes up at you imploringly, reaching a chubby hand up to pat at your face as if to mimic her daddy, and you can’t help but smile through your tears.

“If she’s anything like you, she’ll be perfect. But she’ll also be perfect if she’s nothing like you.” Steve presses more kisses to the top of your head as you keep your eyes glued on your baby daughter, wanting so badly to protect her from all the cruelty this world had to offer. “Look, why don’t we just take it day by day? Just know that I’ll protect her with my life, and she’ll grow up safe and loved.”

You nod. When had he become so wise?

“Gah!” Rosie squeals cheerfully, as if to say she agrees. The two of you can’t help but laugh.

“That’s right, Rosie, you agree with daddy, don’t you? That’s because daddy is always right,” Steve coos, taking her from your arms and pressing a gazillion kisses to her face. “Your mama’s just worried about you, but you gotta tell her that you’ll be fine.” He thrusts the baby at your face in typical Steve fashion (albeit gently). “Go on, Rosie, tell her!”

Rosie blinks before kicking her feet that are encased in her adorable yellow footie pyjamas, smiling and babbling happily. It’s her own baby language of cute yet nonsensical sounds, but it touches you nonetheless.

If someone asked you a year ago whether you thought you’d be here now, you’d probably have burst into tears because of your own bleak expectations. But watching Steve and your little baby girl, you realise that this is your happy place. Here, in the dead of the night with the only light coming from the dim, orange lamp. Here, where you watch as Steve gets up and twirls Rosie around and around, gently throwing her up in the air and catching her as she laughs and laughs. You’d had a heart attack the first time he’d done that, but now you trusted him with it, and the sound of her gleeful laughter was the most beautiful thing on earth to you.

“C’mere,” Steve reaches for your hand and pulls you up, twirling you around before yanking you into him (again, gently, as he holds Rosie with his other arm). You crash into his chest before he tips you back, kissing you sweetly as your arms wind around his neck. “You make me so happy,” he whispers against your lips, “both my girls make me so happy.”

“You make me happy too,” you say shyly. One year later, and he still makes you shy and gives you butterflies. But you’re so comfortable with him now, so at ease, so familiar, so safe. You guess that’s what love is, and it’s also how much he’s grown as a man. He still has his rules, he’s still that strict alpha that he always was. But he’s also more laidback, sweeter, kinder… You think it’s Rosie who has softened him up, but everyone else (his mom) tells you that it’s you too.

“Oh yeah? I bet I could make you happier, baby.” Steve smirks, bouncing Rosie up and down in his arms while she plays with the stubble on his face. “When are you gonna let me give you another one?”

Your eyes widen, heat rushing to your cheeks. You weren’t opposed to the idea of another baby (although Steve’s vision of having at least five children was something you’d take a while to wrap your head around). But right now, you really just wanted to focus on Rosie. Along with Steve, she was your whole entire world.

Rosie’s tiny arms reach out for you, and it secretly thrills you how you seem to be her favourite person. You take her from Steve, rocking her gently in your arms before you let her rest her head on your shoulder. Her eyes droop, long lashes (just like her daddy’s) fanning her chubby cheeks. All that laughing and being thrown in the air had tired her out, and it only takes her a few more minutes to fall asleep.

“I love you, my beautiful baby girl,” you whisper to her softly, brushing her hair off her face, “sweet dreams.”

You and Steve watch her for a while after you’ve put her down in her crib, her tiny stuffed bear clutched in her fist. It’s something the two of you do quite often, as if you’re both in awe of this perfect little thing that you created together. Steve’s arm winds around your waist, and you lean your head against his chest.

“We need to get her a new bear.” Steve points out. Rosie’s favourite stuffed animal is already kind of tattered, its yellow bow-tie hanging off where the stitching has come loose.

“Or her daddy could sew this one back, just like you did with mine.” You glance at Steve Junior, who is comfortably lounging on his usual place in the middle of the bed.

Steve scoffs. Till this day, he denies it. “I did not. I paid someone to do it.”

“Whatever you say.”

He takes you back to bed, and you lie comfortably on his chest, breathing in his scent. Moments like this make all of your insecurities feel insignificant in comparison. Yes, your mother had left you, and sure, your father had too. And every now and again, you feel strong pangs of hurt when you think about it too much. But the pangs were dulling over time, and they could never contest against the strong feelings of love you had within you now. Love for your baby, love for Steve. Love for your perfect little family. And maybe a little love for yourself, too (you were working on it).

And so, every time that dark voice inside you tries to pull you down under, all you have to do is remember the little things that you have the luxury of enjoying every single day now. Like the feel of Rosie’s chubby fist as it grabs your finger with crazy strong baby strength. Or the way Steve’s eyes light up when he comes home to you both after a long day of work. The feel of his soft hair as you card your fingers through it, how he buries his face in your neck and sighs. The sound of Rosie’s laughter, the way Steve says your name.

You know one day you’ll conquer that dark voice inside your head, silence it forever. In the meantime, you cuddle closer to Steve, brush your hand over his chest. Lean up to kiss his cheek, smile at how his lashes fan his cheekbones. A sense of calm washes over your chest, and you don’t feel afraid of your nightmares anymore.

You settle down, and you go to sleep with a smile on your face.

A/N: The end. And from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Thank you for letting me tell this story from beginning to end. I really hope you found it satisfactory. There is so much I want to say, but I will write a separate post for that. Thank you for reading. I love you all. Please reblog and PLEASE leave feedback, i am dying to know what you guys think!

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