#Now the real angsty stuff is coming up

[tesalicious2]

Gothamites are just a different breed of people. They literally could not give a single f*ck about anything. There attitude is ‘eh, not impressed’ mixed with ‘been there don that’ and ‘try harder’.

It’s bad but no one knows how bad until they move there. I’m convinced everyone who lives in Crime Alley has had there parents/grandparents live there, while the less dangerous parts of Gotham see more new faces. They don’t stay long but they pop up.

Batman doesn’t let the Justice League to Gotham and I think that’s fair. They are all to bright and happy. Everyone is so angsty it’s amazing. He doesnt let them in for their own protection. Mostly since they all thinks he’s dramatic. But he knows that that relaxed manner is going to get them hurt.

The only vigilante that has zero haters (besides criminals) is Red Hood. Like, he control the most dangerous part of Gotham every night, walks kids/girls/teens/anyone-who-asks home, regularly buys food for the homeless, reads to kids at the library at night/near closing, stops robberies, sometimes teaches people self defense, and tries to be really quiet bc the walls are thin.

Either him or Signal bc he’s a daytime hero and everyone loves him. Nice, new, and will help out work the mundane stuff.

That being said, the rest are liked too but so have their haters. Despite this, there are websites and videos of them all doing cute and funny stuff or the gothamites doing nice stuff for them.

There is a video of someone giving Spoiler an umbrella, she returned it the next day. Someone managed to find everyone and give them their own hand sewn plushies, and their reaction.

Mostly starting with them on a rooftop of a building, a person calls out. “Yo! (Insert name)! Come here real quick!”

They go over and the person pulls out the plushie.

Batman: *stares for a moment* thank you. Did you make this? The workman ship is amazing.

Nightwing: awwwww! This is so nice, thank you!

Red hood: imma admit it, this is the greatest moment of my entire life. Now, you are in a very bad part of Gotham and need to get to bed. I’ll walk you.

Red Robin: i adore this. I will keep it with me till I die.

Robin: *brain cannot compute* Umm…Thank you very much. Honestly, no idea what to say right now

Spoiler: AWWWW, my first fan anything! I love this! Do you have an Instagram or something? I have to follow you! Let me buy you food!

Black Bat: *squished it once, looks up, Higgs it to her, then motions to hug the creator, they hug*

Signal: ummm, thank you? ive never had to deal with this before. I love it so much! Thank you!

(Can’t believe o forgot Batgirl)

Batgirl: This is so sweet! Thank you! *gives the biggest hug known to man*

[dazednmatthews]

(crazy how) this love thing seems unfair~ m. sturniolo

short mini fic cause i lurve this song so bad. angsty asf w a semi-happy ending. enjoy my loves <3333

“mattttttt,” her voice is coated in sleep. “come back to bed.” matt is standing at his closet door, rubbing his own tired eyes. it’s about nine in the morning, much too early to be doing anything other than laying in bed with her.

“you know that i can’t, sweetheart. i have to go work with the guys.” he finally picks a top, a soft, white sweatshirt that’s semi-cropped.

“boooooooo.” she sits up, pushing the curls that escaped her bun away from her face. the look on her face almost makes matt want to say fuck it and stay right here.

after he puts on his shoes and cologne, he walks to the side of the bed and sits. she sinks into him, body melting into his touch. they sit there for a moment, no sound in the room except their breathing. it’s peaceful.

she leans up in his arm and places a kiss at the shell of matt’s ear, making the boy groan softly. “don’t do that. it makes me want to stay.”

another kiss, this time under his jaw. “that’s the idea.”

one of matt’s hands are kneading the flesh of her thigh, pausing momentarily to rub circles with his thumb. the other hand is planted gently on her waist. he grips a little tighter when she kisses the corner of his mouth.

“stop touching me like that if you’re leaving.” she whines, pulling away slightly. “so not fair.”

he pulls her back. “give me a real kiss.”

she shakes her head. “ew, no. morning breath, hello.”

matt gives her a flat look. “i put my literal tongue inside of you twenty four seven and you think i give a fuck about morning breath?”

she shoves his shoulder with an incredulous laugh. “it is nine in the morning, matthew!” her eyes are sparkling now. “tone it down.”

matt shrugs. “i’m just saying.”

there’s a brief moment where they lock eyes, and suddenly it’s like all the air in the room has been sucked out. matt moves his hand up, feeling the thrum of her heart beating rhythmically. it’s one of his favorite sounds.

she moves into his lap, his hands coming to the swell of her ass to steady her. her arms loop around his neck, face close.

she pulls him in, gently connecting their lips. the way they interlock is something out of matt’s wildest dreams, serenity coating him from head to toe. he’s tugging and grasping with all his might, always needing her closer.

he can feel her lashes on his cheek, can feel her nails on the nape of his neck, can feel her love through every swipe of her tongue. he never wants to be anywhere but here.

there’s a knock at the door. “matt, we gotta go!” it’s chris. “y’all are too quiet in there so i’m staying my ass out here.”

she breaks the kiss with a giggle. “duty calls.”

he groans, resting his head on her shoulder. “so not fair.”

though it’s a fight, from matt mostly, she untangles herself and stands. she extends a hand to pull matt up, giving him a chaste kiss. “it’s okay, matt, go. i’ll be right here when you get back. always.”

***

turns out that always didn’t mean forever.

there’s a low static sound coming from the t.v, but matt pays it no mind. he’s been sat there for what feels like hours, staring into the distance. he has no idea where his brothers are, something about a friends house or something.

it’s been a couple months since the two split. since matt’s entire world shifted off its axis. he hasn’t seen you since you came to drop off the box of stuff that was filling your apartment. still hurts like the first day though.

matt fights with the same urge he gets every night at about this time. during the day is easier. he’s either asleep or so busy with work that he doesn’t really think about the you-shaped hole in his life. doesn’t really think about the absence of your toothbrush in his bathroom, or the lack of your perfume on his sheets. yeah, the day is infinitely easier.

it’s at night, when he cracks. when he turns in bed and there’s no one there. when he can’t hear the sink running because you’re doing your ridiculous sixteen-step skincare routine. when he walks to his bed just fine because there’s no ill placed bag in the middle of the floor to trip over. it feels like walking into a room and immediately forgetting what you were meant to be doing. he knows something is missing, but he doesn’t know how to get it back.

he wants to call you. wants to talk. to sort through all the communication that mishandled. it wasn’t a messy breakup, or even a hostile one. and somehow, matt thinks that’s worse. he’d prefer yelling and arguing and just knowing you weren’t right for each other anymore.

but it wasn’t that. instead it was distance and tears and feeling like right now there just wasn’t enough space in each others lives for one another.

he didn’t want this. at all. he wondered if you felt the same. he’d stared at the phone countless nights willing himself to dial the number. to draft a text. he’d spent just as many willing you to do the same. it never came though.

matt knows tonight is different. the hum of the ac is lulling the anxious feelings in his stomach. he knows by the way his shaky hands grab his phone that this time is going to be the one.

he doesn’t know what to say, nor how to get it out. he wants to pour his heart out, but he also can’t do that without looking at you. without seeing you and feeling the rush of unwavering love he always got whenever his eyes met yours. it wouldn’t be fair.

so he starts off light and hopes for the best. you always did used to say that he had a way of knowing you better than anyone else.

he hopes to god that’s still true.

a/n: i’m tewwwwww good to y’all fr. jus sumn lite bc i love that damn song soooo bad and it came on this morning and a giant ass cartoon lightbulb went off in my head. anyway number neighbor part five & six later today cause ik that’s what u guys really want 😭 i hope u guys like this okie bye i love you all sooooo bad!!!

TAGLIST:

@sturnioloco @peachmels @sugrhigh @tastesousweet @rootbeerworshiper @hollandsangel @sturnolio-luvs @mattsobvimyfav @misscocodiorsblog @ilovechrisssturniolo @pepsiboyy @braindead4l @mxqdii @fawnchives @hearts4chriss @certifiednatelover @nmegamett20 @imaslut4kehlani @dominicfikue @wovenribbons @streamermattsgf @pr1ncessmatt @pinksturniolo @yourfavoritefangirl @nickmillersn1gf @freshxsturniolo @sturniolobltch @mattspolitank @lookingformyromeo @alorsxsturn @imwetforyourmom @kiarastromboli @sleepysturnss @mattscoquette @sturncakez @inkyray @simply-a-simper @lanas-doll @wh0resstuff @giannasturn @iluvmattsbeard @mattsmad @bambi-slxt

(also if i add tags based on requests and on comments so if u ever want to be taken off let me know!!!! jus send me an ask or a message and it’s no problem <3333)

[anundyingfidelity]

WHEN I WAKE UP, WHERE DO YOU GO? — Soldier Boy/Ben

Summary: When Soldier Boy was taken away and Vought faked his death, he dreamt of you non-stop while with the reds. Now, decades later and back in the modern world, he just has one thing in mind: finding you.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 1.6k.

Warnings: heavy angst, language, some nudity, sexual implied content, pregnancy, the usual stuff in the boys universe, death, AU where Soldier Boy was never with Crimson Countess.

If you'd like to be added, the taglist is here!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

Notes: this was a request for my 400 followers drabbles but i got more things in mind to develop an angsty one shot with a sad ending, so this is what happened. also thanks for being patient with me as i try to come back to tumblr and write. real life is not easy.

GEN MASTERLIST!

1981

He didn’t know where he was standing. He didn’t know the place around him, nor the people having a sweet ball, with the music playing and mingling with their laughs.

He could see the beautiful ladies swinging to the classic music in the gala, the supes he used to know in the back of the scene as if they weren’t an important part of it. Dressed in that green suit, mask off, he walked between the couples and the guests dancing. His eyes caught a stunning wine colored dress in the middle of the pale colors around. He knew it was you.

It was the first time in years he heard his heart pounding against his chest this fast, as he approached you. His hand brushing your bare shoulder made you turn around, a bright smile adorned your face appeared when you saw it was him. You quickly focused your attention completely to him, leaving the ladies you were speaking to behind.

“Ben! What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming!” you almost shouted to him as you dragged him with you to the less-crowded bar.

He furrowed his brows in confusion. “I wasn���t?”

You shook your head with a hint of embarrassment and placed your drink on the countertop.. “Edgar said you wouldn’t, so… I just thought you weren’t,” you said with a soft voice. “But nevermind that, I’m glad you’re here, I’ve missed you,” you beamed, this time your voice sounding happier.

Ben nodded, taking in the sight of your figure and your pretty face, delicately made up, expensive and graceful just for a night like this. Somehow, seeing you felt like ages. “You look perfect,” he whispered.

Under his gaze, he knew your cheeks were burning. He started fighting the urge of caressing your cheek but now, in front of all these people, it was better not to.

He always had this need of protecting you from the outside, from the world. Being the supe he was, he knew how fucked up everything around was. You didn’t deserve to see that. But countless times, Ben remembered your courage and the way you used to raise your voice to be heard. And still knowing you could take care of yourself, he felt the need of looking after you, of being your shelter. Despite everything, he wouldn’t forgive himself if anything bad happened to you.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “You look good too, but I bet you’d look better with a different type of suit,” you gave him a flirty wink.

He was all in that playful mood of yours.

“Probably later, if we leave,” Ben teased back, the distance between both of you getting shorter. He could smell the sweetness of your perfume and the taste of alcohol. “Whatcha say, sweetheart?”

“I’d say yes. Always would say yes.”

1983

Ben woke up again, in a place that was oddly familiar in the back of his mind. It was a big bedroom, he was laying on the bed, and immediately noticed the blanket covering his bare body. The sunlight sneaking in the curtains told him it was morning already. There was a heat coming from the other side and he rolled softly to see you, sleeping and tugging his arm against you.

“Good morning,” you mumbled, fluttering your eyes open. You leaned to place a kiss on his stubbled cheek, the blanket falling off a little from your breasts. “How you feeling today, my husband?”

“Husband?”

You chuckled at his confused face. “I told you I’d say yes, didn’t I?”

Ben snorted to himself. He didn’t even remember proposing to you, but it was better than he’d ever imagined. Looking back at you, he asked with a quizzical expression on his face. “Am I dreaming?”

You laughed louder this time. “No, Ben. We got married yesterday. Thought you couldn’t get drunk and all, is there anything wrong?”

He felt your hand caressing his cheek softly, as you placed your head on his shoulder and laid back down. And he felt not only the warm touch of your skin, but a coldness coming from a ring on your hand. He wrapped his own on your wrist to get a glance of the bright, gold ring adorning your finger. It was true.

You were his wife, and he couldn’t believe it.

1984

“Please don’t go.”

Your voice came out as a plea, and he, somehow, felt something was wrong. Looking around, Ben found himself in a cozy kitchen inside a house, and you were standing in front of him. He looked for the ring in your hand, and there it was. What the hell was happening to him? Why was he suddenly reminiscing every moment with you? And why this?

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Ben, I’m pregnant,” you confessed with glossy eyes. His face softened and he shook his head, part of him wanting it to be a lie. He wasn’t ready to be a father yet. “Please don’t go to Nicaragua. You promised you’d give this up, why hasn't it happened? It’s been a year!”

You were already crying, the tears coating your cheeks and he stepped closer to cup your cheeks between his hands, making you look at him directly.

“I really have to go,” he muttered as he wiped the tears off your skin.

Ben pulled you for a hug, as you cried against his chest and he soothed you softly, a side he never knew could have for anyone but you. He hated seeing you like this, but he knew he had to go. He was Soldier Boy, he’d come back soon, for you and the baby.

“I just want you to be safe and happy,” you mumbled, once you pulled away and wiped your face with your hands.. “You always wanted this, a family. And I want to give it to you because I love you… I wouldn’t want it any other way, Ben.”

“I love you so damn much,” he said, with a beam on his face and a spark in his eyes, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “How long?” he asked.

“Like four months…”

Ben smiled again, remembering the weird foods you were having, how you’d get sick all out of nowhere and the countless nights and days he took care of you, even if you got pissed at him because it all felt like you were useless. But he didn’t care about all that. How he couldn’t notice it and pull the strings together, he thought to himself.

Suddenly he kissed you sweetly, but so strong at the same time that you gasped against his mouth. “You’re the most amazing thing that ever happened to me, y’know that.”

His words made you smile against his lips, still trying to compose yourself. You nodded as you reached for his hand, entwining it with yours.

“I hope it’s a boy,” he said, before planting another kiss on your lips.

2022

When Ben came back to the real world, he thought of finding you. Butcher had facilitated your location in exchange for a deal, but a grave wasn’t the place he had in mind when doing so.

He already lost count of how many times he had arrived to grief and hate himself for leaving you and the baby that day when you begged him not to. It was late noon, almost dusk, and probably he shouldn’t be there, saying sorry to the air and the tree in your grave. There was an emptiness growing in his chest, like a black hole swallowing every single particle of life he had been preserving for you, once he came back.

Ben spent the last four decades dreaming of you, remembering every moment, either be happy or sad, the only thing that mattered was you. Whole you, with your beauty, your laugh, the kindness in your eyes every time you looked at him, and the courage in your heart. If only he could go back and change everything, he’d do it with no question.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t with you when you asked me to.”

He read the plaque with your name written on it and a small ‘beloved daughter and wife’ below, and his fists clenched tightly. More than ever, he wanted to burn Vought down to the ground. He had cried to himself, all alone, when he learned you were gone and to regret his decisions. It wasn’t enough for those fuckers to take his child and raise him in a damn lab to be a monster, but they had to kill you.

Ben remembered the things this Hughie kid had told him; about you trying to look for your husband for months non-stop after he went missing and the fake story of his death was released to the world. You spent day and night doing research, getting involved with different organizations even when your son was born, and when Vought sensed you were moving masses, they decided to get rid of you and take his son away. Ben was sure you knew pretty well the dirty secrets, and taking threats out of the radar was their specialty.

Now he had to take Homelander down. The only bond that joined you and him resulted to be a stupid, crying asshole, all because of the whim of some rich men running a pharmaceutical. Supes were a lie, but he was a soldier. And he had promised himself to avenge you, whatever the cost was.

“I love you,” Ben whispered to the wind. “I hope you understand why I’m doing this.”

“I'm pretty sure she’d be okay with it,” Butcher said, standing a couple of feet back.

Ben had been used to the british fucker to appear out of nowhere. Butcher was the one taking him to the cemetery after all.

“Yeah, I hope so,” Ben said back. The sadness and grief fell off his face as he turned around to meet Butcher. “Let’s go then, I want to take them fucking down.”

Soldier Boy taglist: @delaynew @k-slla @thesilmarillionblog @onlyangel-444 @mrsjenniferwinchester @daisy-the-quake

[evansbby]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

part iv - just like animals

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, major angst, extremely dark themes, a/b/o dynamic, daddy!kink, dubcon, dumbification, bullying, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, size kink, housewife kink, semi-public sex, pussyjob, oral (f receiving),  extreme depictions of bullying and depression, 18+ only, minors do not interact!  

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You begin to lose hope, and Steve begins to lose his mind.

Series Masterlist 

𝐀/𝐍: Another warning that the angsty content and certain themes in this chapter may be difficult to read. Warnings are there for a reason. Apart from that, thank you so much for being so patient. It took me more than 4 months to write this and it’s 22.2k words long. Enjoy.

Pregnant.

You stare so hard your vision blurs, until the two lines on the test are swimming around comically, almost as if they’re laughing at you. And then you’re blinking rapidly, because your eyes must be playing some kind of cruel trick, right? This can’t be real, this can’t be real, this can’t be real.

You’re pregnant. With Steve’s baby.

It’s with an almost detached silence that you get up and wrap all three tests in a big wad of toilet paper. Like you’re floating through the air, you stuff them under your shirt and make your way out of the room. With Steve still asleep, you venture downstairs and out the front door, the chilly morning air having no effect on you.

You bury the tests at the bottom of the garbage bin, like how you’re currently trying to bury all the emotions threatening to spill out of you. A baby. Inside you. Right at this moment. Steve’s baby. Your hand twitches, reaching up to touch your stomach before you stop yourself. What were you going to do now?

Steve reaches for you when you return to the bedroom, he looks half-asleep as he pulls you back into bed. You wonder whether here, cocooned in cosy warmth, you can just scrunch your eyes up real tight and pretend none of this is happening right now…

“Where did you go?”

“Steve, I… I’m…” Your throat constricts, and panic rises within you like bile as you try to regulate your breathing. “I just went downstairs to drink water.”

Steve hums, drawing you closer and burying his face in your neck while you lie completely still. As if any movement would somehow expose the fact that you’re pregnant. He peppers soft kisses onto your skin, tugging your shirt down to expose more of your neck.

“I’m gonna take you out for dinner tonight.” He says softly, and it’s the last thing you were expecting to hear from him right now. His lips drag up to kiss the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw, his hands stroking up and down your body as he holds you close. “You have an exam this morning, don’t you?”

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry at the fact that you’d forgotten you have an exam today.

“Y-Yeah.”

“Mm, so I’ll take you out after. Anywhere you want to go. We can even go shopping before that, I’ll buy you whatever you want.” Steve’s arms encircle around your waist, pulling you up as he rolls onto his back, so that you’re lying on his chest. He blinks up at you, blue eyes suddenly serious, “I want you to forget about everything that happened last night, omega.”

And just like that, it all comes rushing back to you. Like a hurtling freight train that had been momentarily kept at bay because you’d just found out you were pregnant. But now the memories come back at lightning speed. Bucky. Steve Junior. The fight. How Steve hadn’t defended you. How he’d left.

How he’d cheated on you.

How you’d begged him not to leave you.

“Forget all of it.” Steve repeats, cupping your face with both his hands. “None of that’s important anymore, as long as you’ll be good from now on.”

And just like that, he wants you to forget. Move on in a blink of an eye. Forget his cheating, his casual cruelty, how he’d laughed when you’d cried. How he’d told you every detail of his encounter with that other omega, how it had felt like you’d been punched in the gut repeatedly.

How could he expect you to forget? By pretending it never happened and distracting you with shopping trips, gifts and dinners? Was that his way of compensating? Didn’t he feel even a tiny bit of remorse? Could he even acknowledge how much he’d hurt you?

There’s a part of you, underneath all the newfound shock of being pregnant, that wants to confront him about all of it.

Instead, you nod mechanically. “Okay, Steve.”

“Good girl.” He kisses you a few more times before sitting up and setting you down next to him. “Pick a restaurant and text me, I’ll make the reservation.”

With baited breath, you watch him as he gets up, moving around the room to get ready for the day. You know that he’s got his morning run, then a gym session and then two exams back-to-back– which means you won’t see him until a lot later. Maybe it would give you enough time to gather your thoughts and make sense of your situation before you tell him.

***

Your own exam goes by in a blur. It doesn’t help that all you can think about is the fact that there’s literal life growing inside of you, but you somehow soldier through. With nerves mounting, you walk from the university building back to Steve’s house almost in a daze. Worries, questions, concerns, and fears swim around in your head like a school of frenzied fish. What are you going to do?

Acting on desperate impulse alone, you whip your phone out. Shaky fingers scroll desperately, searching for one blocked contact in particular. Almost in a frenzy, you tap on his name, unblocking him and calling him before you can change your mind.

“H-Hello? Peter?”

It takes a few moments for him to register that it’s you, and then:

“Oh my God. Are you okay?!”

The familiarity of Peter’s voice makes you want to cry, the sound bringing back fleeting memories of sitting on his sofa with a bowl of popcorn and a movie, complaining to him about all the alphas in your lectures. Playing computer games on his laptop and laughing when you beat him. Catching the bus to his house after days of not speaking to anyone at university, and the relief you’d feel when he’d open the door…

“I’m… I…Peter, I…”

You’re suddenly awash with shame. The last time you’d seen Peter, his face was spurting blood after being punched several times by Steve. And you hadn’t even bothered to call or text him after that, hadn’t bothered to see if he was okay. Granted, that was also the night Steve had mated you – oh, how could you ever explain all of this mess to Peter?

“Are you okay?” Peter repeats. “I tried to call so many times but you blocked me.” A pause, and then he adds: “Don’t worry, I realised that was probably Steve’s doing.”

You swallow harshly, “I should’ve called you. It’s just… He… He…” But you couldn’t blame it all on Steve, could you? In the past month and a half, it’s not like you’d gone out of your way to contact Peter. No, after Steve had mated you, it was like he’d consumed you, eaten you alive. Wrapped you up in this little bubble where it was just you and him and no one else mattered. A bubble you clearly had been in no hurry to escape from until it had popped unceremoniously all over your face.

“Is he treating you okay?” Peter’s question sounds tentative, as if he doesn’t quite believe his own words.

“No, Peter, I–” A strangled sob escapes your throat from out of nowhere, and you can feel the flimsy threads holding you together as they begin to come apart. “Everything’s a mess, a big fat mess and I don’t know what I’m going to do!”

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

Why had you called him? How could you even begin to tell him everything you’d been through in the past twenty-four hours? Would Peter ultimately even care to listen to you complain about the man you’d cheated on him with? The man who you’d been living with for the past month, acting like his good little omega while pretending Peter no longer existed?

“It’s all a big mess.” You moan pathetically, hating yourself for how you sound. Here you were, hurt by one man and immediately trying to hurtle yourself into the arms of another. Stupid. Pathetic. Dumb. Careless. You’d gotten yourself into this mess. Just like Steve said – all your fault.

Your hand finds its way to your stomach, stroking it softly through the material of your dress. For a split second, you close your eyes and try and picture it. You, with a baby in your arms. Your very own baby – it looks exactly like you. And Steve coming home, smiling happily as he kisses you and takes your child, swinging it around while it giggles.

But like ink spilling on paper, the image darkens. Now it’s you alone with your baby. Cold, dark, dreary. Steve’s gone. He left you. Left you and left your baby. For that other omega. Left you just like how your dad left too. And it’s all your fault, all your fault, all your fault! Steve’s voice chanting in your head while your baby cries: all your fault, all your fault, all your fault!

“Hello? Are you still there?” Peter’s voice drags you out of your mind. “Look, just tell me what happened. I can help you. I know I wasn’t much help last time but I can help you now. We can figure something out, just tell me where you are, and–”

“I’m sorry,” You interrupt him, swallowing harshly. What had you hoped to achieve by calling your ex-boyfriend and telling him that your current boyfriend got you pregnant? No, you couldn’t do that to Peter. “Look, I don’t know why I called, I can’t drag you into my mess.”

“You haven’t even told me what the mess is–”

“I’m sorry, Peter.” You choke out before quickly hanging up. Methodically, you delete the call history and block his number once more. And then, it’s with almost mechanical grace that you wipe away your tears and clear your throat.

This is your mess. You have to handle it by yourself.

Still reeling from the impulsive phone-call and it’s abrupt ending, you walk the rest of the way back to Steve’s house in a daze of different emotions, wanting nothing more than to just escape your mind which seems to be working in overdrive. Reaching the front door, you’re about to twist the doorknob when you hear a click and the door swings open from the inside.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Little Miss Omega.” Words dripping with smug delight as if he’s caught you with your hand in the cookie jar, Bucky leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest and a wolfish grin on his face, “Was that you I just saw on the phone?”

You duck your head, hoping to just ignore the alpha, nudge past him and run up to yours’ and Steve’s bedroom. But Bucky easily blocks your path, leaving you standing outside on the porch and looking up at him in dismay. Again, you try to push past him but he’s too big, too strong, barely budging.

“I asked you a question. Who were you on the phone with? I bet Stevie doesn’t know, does he?”

Bucky intimidates you, with his light blue eyes and cold gaze. The way he’s always staring. And you don’t think you’ll ever forgive him for what he did to poor Steve Junior. Hands curling into fists by your sides, you can’t help but look to the ground, “I was talking to a friend about a textbook I’m looking for.”

“Nice try, sweetheart. Everyone knows you don’t have any friends.”

“Just let me in!” You try and be assertive, but shoving past him does you no good – just like Steve, he’s practically built like a brick wall.

“Let’s put it to a vote, shall we?” Bucky turns his head slightly, “Hey, Sam. Should I let little omega into the house?”

Over Bucky’s shoulder, you see Sam on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table and a joint between his fingers, a slightly glazed look over his eyes. “I don’t give a fuck, man.”

“I’ll take that as a no. Sorry, sweetheart. I guess Steve should’ve trusted you with keys.” And you can’t believe it when the door slams in your face. You stand there in shock for a few seconds, wrapping your head around exactly what’s just happened. Overhead, the clouds grow darker and you hear a boom of thunder that has your chest tightening.

Hurriedly, you knock on the door once more, trying to persuade yourself that they’re just doing what they always do – acting like alpha jerks and joking around. Of course, they’ll let you in soon – they’d have to be heartless not to.

“Please let me in!” You call out, knocks becoming more incessant as panic begins to bubble inside of you – you’re not too fond of thunder, “Bucky, Sam, please! I think it’s gonna start raining!”

A rush of cold air has you shivering down to the bone, goosebumps rising up and down your limbs. It had been warm in the morning, so you’d worn only a light sundress – absolutely not ideal for the rainstorm that’s clearly about to hit.

“Guys, please!” You cry out again, and it comes out as a whimper. Bucky’s been awful as of late, but maybe Sam would grow irritated by your cries and come to open the door? That’s all you can hope for as you continue to slam your fists against the door harder and harder.

Suddenly, the door opens and you sag with relief until you see it’s Bucky again.

“L-Let me in. Please.” You hate that you have to beg him like this, after everything he’s said and done to you in the past. How he tore Steve Junior, how he called you a bitch in heat. Oh, how badly you wish Steve was here. But then, would Steve have even done anything at all?

Bucky tilts his head as if he’s pretending to think, “How about we strike up a bargain, sweetheart? You give me a kiss, and I’ll let you in.”

It’s as if someone’s dunked poison into your veins. Ugly, green poison that gives you a bad feeling and a bad taste all at once. You take a step back almost cautiously, “N-No.”

“You sure, omega?” Bucky licks his lips, pushing his brown hair out of his face as his gaze drinks you in hungrily. “It’s awfully cold out there, and nice and warm in here. All it’s gonna cost you is one kiss. And don’t worry, I won’t tell Steve.”

You jut your chin out, “No. I’m not going to kiss you. You’re Steve’s best friend, you shouldn’t be acting like this anyway.”

It’s like it’s all a game to him, because Bucky just smiles wickedly, reaching out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. Revulsion overtakes your body, and you take another step back, blanching before giving him a pleading look.

“Acting like what? I told you, I won’t tell Steve.” He tries to grab you, but you’re quick to dodge him, “Come on, omega. It’s not like Steve’s gonna care anyways. I was there when he cheated on you. I didn’t understand it, if I had a hot piece of ass like you in my bed– I’d never do what he did.”

You bite your lip. The pain is still so fresh, the memory of Steve so nonchalantly telling you how he’d cheated on you, how he didn’t have a mark on his neck that tethered him to you. You’re crestfallen, but there’s a certain fury that awakens inside you too, because you hate how Bucky’s talking about it, you hate how he knows, you hate how he’s using it to his advantage.

“JUST SHUT UP!”

You’ve never yelled at an alpha like this before, your voice sounding over a clap of thunder that hits at that exact moment, “Shut up, okay? My relationship with Steve is none of your business. So just please, please leave me alone and let me in.” And once again you try to barge your way past him, pushing against his arm with all your strength but getting absolutely nowhere with it.

“Listen, you little bitch. Don’t fucking raise your voice at me.” Bucky is quick to grab your arm, twisting it roughly behind your back and making you cry out in pain. “And stop trying to act all high and mighty, like you’re above kissing me. You’re just a pathetic little scholarship slut omega, remember that.”

“Please! It hurts!”

“It hurts!” He mimics, face inches from yours as he sneers down at you, “When are you gonna realise that no one cares when you hurt? Least of all Steve.” His lips are so close to yours, and you can feel his breath on your face as he speaks, “So, what do you say about that kiss, hm, sweetheart? He cheated on you, now’s your chance to do the same. An eye for an eye.”

“No! I’m not going to kiss you, okay? I don’t want to!” You cry out, trying with all your might to wiggle out of his grasp until he cruelly pushes you away and you stumble down the front steps of the house.

“Fine. Suit yourself, omega slut.”

And the door slams shut again, followed by the unmistakable click of the lock. And this time, you know Bucky isn’t coming back to open it. Another clap of thunder, a ripple of lightning and now heavy rain is falling down in earnest. For a few seconds, you just watch in disbelief as the icy cold water soaks through your clothes.

Then you run up against the window, pounding on it, hoping that maybe Sam will let you in. But Sam looks like he’s passed out on the couch and dead to the world around him. And Bucky just sits there, cigarette in mouth and phone in hand, pretending as if he hasn’t just heartlessly locked you outside in the heavy rainfall.

And the rain is unforgiving, so cold as it pelts downwards. Fat droplets of icy water beating down on your head – it’s already soaked through your dress and everything from your hair to your phone is dripping wet.

Once more, you slam your fists on the door, yelling out both their names, begging and pleading to be let in. You shake and rattle the doorknob, you pound at the glass of the window, at one point you even hurl your whole body into the door to maybe break it open – but to no avail.

“Please! It’s c-cold out here!” Your voice comes out hoarse from all the pleading you’ve been doing, and you can’t tell whether it’s rainwater or tears smeared all over your face, “Please let me in! I d-don’t know what I did to you but please, just let me in!”

It’s in the middle of your hundredth ‘please’ that you finally stop, clamping your shivering mouth shut because what’s the point? All this begging, all this pleading, just in the hopes that the two worst people you know might feel sorry for you? When they never have in the past? When they’ve been awful to you every chance they got, despite the fact that you’ve been nothing but polite to them?

No. Bucky and Sam don’t deserve your begging.

You find yourself sinking down on the steps. You contemplate calling Steve, but one glance at the black screen of your phone and you know it’s either dead or the rainwater got to it.

The library was closed for maintenance, and walking to the nearest campus building would be impossible in this rain. Even your old dorm is out of the question, because Steve has the keys to it. And slowly, as the cold numbness begins to spread across your fingertips and up your arms, you feel a sudden numbness in your mind too.

This despairing feeling of no hope, cruelly snatching away any need to survive. You feel your body switch off, the feeling of deadly indifference overtaking you. You bury your head between your legs, wrapping your arms around yourself to preserve any body-heat.

Steve should be home by now... But he isn’t, he isn’t, he isn’t! The voice inside you mocks. He’s probably with that other omega…Cosy in her dorm room, probably kissing her…

You don’t know how long you sit there in the pounding rain, feeling it beat unforgivingly down your head and back. A part of you wants to drown in the rainwater, or let it wash you away and take you somewhere far. Somewhere where it isn’t so wet and so cold, where everyone isn’t so horrible.

The car headlights don’t really register in your head, and neither does the rough hand that grabs your arm a few moments later, shaking you and calling out your name repeatedly. You just keep your head in your lap, hoping and praying that the cold goes away.

“Can you hear me? What the fuck are you doing out here?” Steve demands, grabbing both your shoulders now and shaking them heftily, making you look up slowly and blink. Your vision is completely blurred, and again it’s either from the rain or your tears – you don’t know. But you see Steve’s halo of blonde hair glimmering in the rain, and the furrow of his brow.

You open your mouth but nothing comes out as Steve yanks you up to your feet, pulling you towards the door.

“Did you hear what I just asked you? What are you doing out here in the rain? Are you insane?” He has to raise his voice to be heard above the deathly patter.

“W-Wouldn’t let me in.” You mumble faintly as Steve fishes for his keys, pulling them out of his pocket and unlocking the door in record time, pushing you inside before following you.

“What?” He repeats once you’re both inside, “What did you say?”

The warmth is immediate but you feel no relief – just that same numbness from before. You’re dripping all over the floor, cold beyond belief as you look down at your ruined shoes.

“Th-They wouldn’t let me in.”

It comes out so quiet, so pitiful, so weak and resigned. Because you know he won’t care, that he’ll downplay it. But Steve’s blue eyes blaze with fury once realisation sets in. Face red and knuckles white, he turns to the living room. You must’ve been outside for a while because Sam is gone, and there’s only Bucky who sits with his feet reclined on the coffee table, casually typing away on his phone.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole?” Steve roars, striding into the living room and grabbing Bucky by the collar, yanking him up to his feet.

“Hey, hey, let the fuck go of me.” Bucky’s got a glare on his face as the blond alpha slams him against the wall, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Don’t act fucking stupid,” Steve sneers, “She was outside in the rain for God knows how fucking long. Look at her. She said you wouldn’t let her in.”

Bucky’s gaze shifts towards you, and you know you look like a dishevelled, soaking mess. There’s a split second where his eyes widen, and his throat bobs as he swallows. Then he blinks, that familiarly cruel smirk returning, “Oh. I guess I didn’t hear her knock.”

“Bullshit.”

“What’s going on–?” Sam chooses that moment to come thudding down the stairs. He stops short when he sees you shivering at the landing and the sizable puddle of rainwater by your feet.

“Why would you do it?” Steve slams Bucky against the wall once more, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this angry. Except the night he mated you.

“Relax the fuck out. It was a joke. Don’t act like you haven’t done shit like this before.”

“Don’t fucking joke with her.”

“I’ll joke with whoever the fuck I want, asshole. Just like how you used to,” Bucky sneers, “before you got yourself whipped on that omega slut.”

The look on Steve’s face is one of absolute livid fury, and he’s about to draw his fist back when–

“Steve, she looks like she’s hypothermic or something.” It’s Sam who speaks, stepping forward and swiftly coming between them. Steve glances at you before looking back at Bucky, giving the brunet one last menacing look before shoving him, then shoving Sam and making his way over to you.

“Both of you can go to hell.” He mutters, blue eyes still filled with rage as he grabs your arm. He inhales sharply, as if stung by how cold your skin feels. And ‘feel’ is a strong word because what you can’t feel is your toes, your fingers, the tip of your nose. And you can’t stop the violent, body-wracking shivers as your body fails to heat itself up.

Steve tries to pull you up the stairs, but it’s like you’re a solid block of ice – half frozen from cold and from the shock of everything that’s happened. Eventually, he just picks you up, carrying you up the stairs as you remain stiff in his arms.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you repeat the words in choked whispers till they lose meaning. And you don’t know what you’re apologising for, but you know Steve’s angry. Which means he’ll be angry at you – maybe for making him fight with his friends? Causing a huge commotion because you cried like a baby for being locked outside? Would he blame you again, tell you it’s all your fault?

Would he leave you?

“I’m s-s-sorry,” you can’t keep your teeth from chattering but you keep repeating it nonetheless, scared of what he might do, what your punishment will be, as he carries you up into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

You risk a look up at his face. There’s still anger in his eyes as he scans over your body, the way you’re trembling in his arms, cold fingers gripping onto him tightly. And for a moment, he just stands there. Stands there in the middle of his room as if he has no idea what to do, almost as if he’s at a loss.

“You’re really cold.” It’s all he says, and then he carries you into the bathroom, easily holding you close with one arm, and manoeuvring the other to open the tap and fill the bathtub with scalding hot water. You can see the steam rising invitingly, but it’s like all hope’s been snuffed out from within you – you don’t really care about getting warm anymore.

“A-A-Are you m-mad at me?” You ask Steve quietly, but maybe it’s too quiet, or maybe you asked it in your head because he doesn’t respond. Instead, he gently puts you down on your feet, unzipping your dress and taking it off, and then your shoes and sopping wet socks too. That’s when you realise you can’t feel your toes either.

The bath is boiling hot but it only feels lukewarm against your poor, cold-stricken body. He’s filled it up till the brim, so you sit there with your chin resting on your knees and arms wrapped around your legs protectively, as if any moment he’s going to turn on you, yell at you, tell you it’s your fault. And then you expect Steve to leave, and he almost does once he turns the faucet off. But he hesitates at the doorway, as if he’s afraid to leave you alone in the bathroom.

Finally, he decides to stay, sitting down on the floor next to the bathtub, his eyes glued to you. But the anger seems to be gone (or maybe he’s hiding it?). For a long while, no one says anything. And it’s there, in Steve’s bathroom as you sit in the scalding water, that something seems to break inside of you. As if any will you may have had has been sapped out of your body, leaving just a shell behind.

Steve clears his throat, “Are you still cold?”

Silence.

“Omega. Answer me.”

You don’t. Or you can’t. He seems far away.

“Do you want me to make the water hotter?”

Why is he being nice? Is it an act? Is he trying to trick you? Why hasn’t he punished you yet? This is all your fault, isn’t it? Isn’t it?

You stare straight ahead at the tiled wall in front of you. It’s black and white marble. Minimalistic. A simple pattern.

“Is there something written on my face that makes people to treat me like crap?”

It’s you who speaks – but you almost don’t recognise it. Clear, void of any emotion and no stutter. You feel like a ghost, out of your own body and watching yourself from a corner, resigned and not caring what happens next.

And Steve seems slightly taken aback – maybe he expected you not to speak at all. Maybe he only expected you to cry like you always do. But it’s as if you’ve cried all the tears you possibly can, and your body has no more left to give. It’s like you have nothing left inside you to give.

“They shouldn’t have done that.” Steve says darkly, “I’ll make sure they don’t pull shit like that ever again.”

You blink, but don’t respond. You know in your heart that you don’t believe him – not when he picks and chooses when to defend you.

“Is there something so glaringly wrong with me, that it makes people treat me like shit? You should know if there is, because you’re the one who started it, Steve. They wouldn’t be bullying me – no one would be bullying me – if it weren’t for you.”

You feel nothing as you say it, almost as if your body’s given up on protecting you; your tongue allowing you to say things that you’ve only ever dared to think about before. You were profusely apologising to him not five minutes ago, but now it’s like you can’t stop yourself from saying what’s been festering at the back of your mind for who knows how long. But your tone isn’t accusatory, just monotonous. You focus on the pattern on the wall – black, white, black, white, black, white. One white tile has a crack in it. A small one, but it’s there.

“Why did you bully me, Steve? What did I ever do to you, except keep my head down and mind my own business? Did you hate me that much? Do they hate me that much?”

Through your peripheral, you can see him holding his head in his hands for a second. And then he looks up, does that thing where he runs his hands through his hair. Eyes squeezed shut for a second, he opens them and looks down at you, and his hand hovers in the air for a second as if to grab yours, only to snatch it back at the last second.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Why did you treat me so awful, then? And persuade everyone else to do the same?”

Silence. No answer. But it’s not like you expected any different. You fold more within yourself, hugging your knees closer to your chest and letting a huge wave of shivers overtake you.

“Can you just… Could I be alone, please?”

He doesn’t budge even an inch, and again you get the feeling like he’s scared to leave you by yourself. But it feels even more alien when his hand comes up to stroke your hair back. The omega inside you sings for his touch but for once it’s like the numbness within you is overshadowing your base omega desires. You duck away from his hand, making him freeze and snatch it back once again.

After a few beats of silence, you speak once more.

“It’s me, isn’t it? There’s something about me that people just don’t like.  No matter how hard I try, how nice I act – it always seems to come back and slap me in the face.”

Steve, his tongue always ready with cajoling words and sweet nothings, seems to have nothing to say. You’ll never figure out how to read his expressions, but his brow is furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line.

“I’ve kept quiet all my life, kept my head down, kept out of everyone’s way – but none of it works.” You meet his gaze, that forever unreadable look; “Please… Please tell me why it never works?”

“I told you; I’ll make sure they never do shit like that again. You won’t have to worry anymore; I’ll make sure they don’t even speak to you–”

“You told me once that nobody cares about me.” You pick at your nails, sounding both broken and matter-of-fact at the same time, thinking back to Bucky’s words from earlier: No one cares if you hurt. “And you’re… you’re right, Steve. No one really does, otherwise Bucky and Sam would have just let me in. And no one would’ve ever bullied me. And… And my mom would answer my texts, and…” A sudden wave of anguish washes over you, “And my dad wouldn’t have left me.”

You don’t know why you’re telling him this now, but it seems like everything’s finally connecting in your head – everyone will leave you, even Steve. The alpha sucks in his breath, and again it’s like his fingers are dancing, creeping over to grab your hand that lays limply on the rim of the bathtub. And this time, he does, squeezing tightly except you’re so emotionally numb that you can’t even feel it.

“You know he left because he wanted a boy? An alpha? You were right, he didn’t care about me, left before my first birthday.” The pain associated with the one thing you never talk about, that you never even think about, is so strong that it almost winds you, and it makes your heart hurt. “N-Now he has a new family. Two sons. He even has a daughter, but I don’t think he’d ever leave her like he left me.”

Steve’s grip on your hand tightens, and you hear this growling sound that comes from his chest. But you’re so far down this well made up of your own pain and anguish, that it’s like Steve’s almost not even there.

“I don’t think my mom ever forgave me for him leaving. And you were right when you said that she doesn’t care about me either. I don’t remember the last time she called me, or even texted to check up on me.” You look up to see him open his mouth to speak but you beat him to it, “Steve, sometimes I… sometimes I hate myself for being like this, for driving everyone away.”

Steve whips his blonde hair out of his face, suddenly sitting up straighter and eyes molten blue with new heat, shoulders squared as if he’s defensive, “Don’t say shit like that.”

“But it’s true. And I drove you away too. To that other omega.” And now fresh anguish cuts through, splicing you open like a knife, the same pain you felt the moment Steve told you he’d kissed someone else.

“You didn’t drive me away–”

“That’s what you told me. You said it was my fault. And it was, and I made you cheat on me. All my fault – that’s what you said.”

“I didn’t mean–” He grabs your face, hands rough and calloused but so familiar, as if a thousand others could touch you at the same time but his touch is the only one you could ever recognise. Face inches from yours and intense gaze boring into you, he exhales sharply, “I didn’t cheat on you, omega. I don’t think you understand what cheating means, but kissing someone is not–”

“I’m not dumb.” You interrupt, and it’s funny because you wouldn’t have dared to ever interrupt him before now. But it’s like you’re a ghost, outside of your own body and long past the point of caring. “Maybe I’m a bit naïve but I know what cheating is.” Tears would’ve been flowing down your cheeks at this point, had you any tears left to cry, “And you know the worst part? You laughed as you told me.”

Steve shuts his eyes again for a second, really scrunches them up and you can see the furrow of his brow, the clench of his jaw. But you don’t know what any of it even means – is he angry with you? Annoyed? Irritated? Do you care?

“It didn’t mean anything with her. I came home to you in the end.”

It meant everything to me! You want to yell, but instead you sink down lower into the water, wanting it to swallow you up, pull you down the drain and away from everything. But strong hands grip your forearms, jerking you back up almost immediately. You suck in your breath before turning to face him, properly face him, “You still kissed her. And you– you gloated about it; told me it was my fault. N-Now you’re gonna leave me just like my dad did. Leave me for her.”

Steve shakes his head, his knuckles white from gripping your shoulders so tightly, “I don’t even remember her face.” He lifts you out of the tub, and you don’t even struggle because what’s the point? The fight seems to have left your body completely. He places you on his lap, naked and wet and trembling, strong arms encircling around you as they’ve done a thousand times before when he’s ready to sway you with his sweet words, “Omega. Listen to me, she meant nothing to me.”

“I don’t think I mean anything to you either.” It’s both an observation and a realisation. All these weeks of trying to persuade yourself that Steve has changed, that Steve’s good to you now, that surely Steve wouldn’t treat you how he treated Sharon. It’s a delayed reaction, but now you’re sure of it. As Bucky said: no one cares if you hurt. Least of all, Steve.

“You mean everyth–” Steve cuts himself off with another deep inhale, the muscles and veins in his neck tensing, “You mean a lot to me–”

“Don’t,” You interrupt him again, “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Steve. You do it all the time and I’ll always believe it – and it’ll all be a lie because it always is.” You shake your head, looking up into his shadowed blue eyes and feeling that lurch in your heart you always feel. “I’ll always fall for your words, Steve. Because you made me fall for you.”

A surge of indescribable anger overtakes you, washing over you like a tidal wave, drenching your already wet body in confused, accusatory rage. Feebly, as if testing the waters, you shove him. It’s a slight push against his chest, but then you do it again with a little more strength. And then again. He’s so strong, so big, so well-built, that he doesn’t even budge but you push him again anyways.

“I hate you for making me fall for you, even though you treated me like dirt at the bottom of your shoe!” You cry, shoving him harder while all Steve does is stare at you with that damned unreadable expression, “I hate you for not standing up for me,” Another shove, harder this time, and then another one, “I hate you for cheating on me, for laughing while you watched me cry. I hate you for making me care so much that it felt like my whole world ended when you told me you kissed her!”

Again and again, you hit him; and every time he just lets you do it. Not even raising a hand to defend himself, just allowing your pushes, slaps, punches and shoves to slam against his shoulders and chest. And everything’s a blur to you, black and white bathroom tiles melting into the blues in Steve’s eyes, and again you shove him, harder and harder, not even knowing you had this animosity inside of you until it came pouring out.

“I hate you for bonding with me when you don’t even care about me. Hate you for making me beg you not to leave me, hate you, hate you, I hate you!” Louder and louder your voice gets, till it’s bouncing off the walls of the bathroom, and you think you see a chip in Steve’s stoic expression when he winces, and you hit him even harder. You’ve never hit anyone in your life but it’s like you can’t stop, this animalistic anger radiating off you in waves.

He catches your fists in his hands easily, as easily as he’s crushed and stomped on your trust and feelings in the past. And he pulls you into him, muscular arms wrapping around you, clutching you to his chest, holding you there while you struggle against him, shove and punch and push, until you finally stop.

“I don’t hate you,” You whisper in defeat, “I can’t hate you – no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I should. I wish I did, but I can’t.” You lower your fists, sagging against his chest in defeat, voice breaking as finally, finally, the tears begin to fall. “Can’t hate you, Steve. Not even a little bit.”

Everything’s still. You. Him. The water in the bathtub. And then:

“I won’t hurt you again.” Steve’s voice comes out oddly thick.

“You’ll leave me.”

“I won’t.”

You stare at your hands, fingers shrivelled from the water, trembling from all the screaming you’ve just done, “Don’t believe you anymore.”

Steve sucks in his breath, and you look up to see him tug at his sweater, pulling it down to expose his neck, pale yet so thick and veiny, connecting to his muscular shoulders. He tilts his head slightly, eyes dark and deathly serious, blinking rapidly with a desperation that you’ve never seen on him before.

“Mark me too.”

Your head whips up, heart skipping several beats. Desperately, you search his face for a sign that he’s joking, that he’s about to laugh in your face. It’s almost instinctive to do that now – you don’t trust him; you don’t believe him. Despite the fact that there seems to be sincerity written on his features, you can see it brimming in his eyes that glow in the dim light of the bathroom, in his lips which practically purse with anticipation.

You don’t know what to say.

“Mark me too, omega. Like how I marked you. I don’t give a fuck about anyone else; I only want you. So claim me, if it’ll make you feel better. I’ll be yours just like how you’re mine.”

You gulp. Steve’s all about grand gestures and sweet words, but could he really mean it? When he’s barely said anything this whole time you’ve poured your frustrations out to him? For a moment, a wild nano-second, the feral omega within you wants to surge forward and bite him hard, claim him how he claimed you that fateful night a month or so ago. Make him hurt how he made you hurt the night he claimed you. Make him yours, and maybe, just maybe, you’d finally be happy?

But then you wilt, like all your feelings have rushed to a standstill and taken a nosedive down to the depths of your own mind. Dark doubts, insecurities, mistrust, hopelessness – all of that seems to overtake any innate desire you have to mate him right back. Clearly, the bond you both shared meant nothing to him when he’d cheated on you. What difference could your measly bite-mark on his neck really make?

“Make me yours.” He repeats.

“You’ll never be mine.” You shrink back within yourself, like a candle that’s been snuffed out, or a balloon that’s slowly deflating.

Steve blinks as if he can’t quite believe it, and you feel a peculiar wavering in your bond. “I don’t understand,” He says slowly, “I’m giving you permission to mark me, omega. Not anyone else, just you. So do it. Mark me.”

You bow your head, shaking it slowly, “I’m tired, Steve.”

There’s a certain pull that you feel in your bond with him, a heaviness in the connection you share. You’ve never felt it before. Hurt. It’s almost as if he’s hurt. Could Steve possibly be hurt? But the feeling is fleeting, glimmering slightly before disappearing altogether, making you think you imagined it to begin with.

No more words are shared between you as he helps you to your feet, wrapping his large black towel around you before guiding you back to the bedroom. Like you’re a kicked and injured puppy who needs him. You wonder if you’ll ever not need him.

You feel nothing as he pulls his old football jersey over your head. It’s your favourite one, the one with all the holes in it that smells so much like him. His lucky jersey, he’d told you once. But even the omega inside of you has quietened down, and you still feel so numb. Numb and cold. And hopeless. Even the bed doesn’t bring you any comfort as Steve tucks you in.

He sits by your side, stroking your hair. You struggle to keep your eyes open, the dark depths of sleep tugging you in, and you wonder what fresh nightmares await inside your head. Steve leaving you? Leaving you and your unborn child? You’re already half asleep when you think you hear him speak again, in an oddly gentle tone:

“When I kissed her, I closed my eyes and pretended it was you.” A pause, as if he’s mulling whether to say his next words, “You’re all I think about – and I think about you so goddamned much, it feels like I’m going insane. I can’t even look at another girl, all I see is you.”

It’s through the throes of sleep that you answer:

“Don’t believe you, Steve. Don’t trust you. How can we raise a chil–”

But even in your half-asleep state, your voice knows to trail off. You know what you were about to say: How can we raise a child together when I don’t even trust you? But you can’t tell him about the baby, not when everything is so uncertain.

Sleep pulls you into unconsciousness. Dark and quiet, you dream of nothing.

***

The next few days feel like you’re living in some sort of limbo, with things between you and Steve quieter than a pin dropping. There seems to be change in the foreboding alpha who used to make your heart stop every time he looked at you. Now, he teeters between a range of different emotions. Like masks – quickly exchanging one for the other. Wary – as if you’re made out of glass. Apologetic – except he’s yet to actually say sorry. Cautious – as if he thinks you might do something to hurt yourself. Angry – not directly at you but it scares you anyways.

And sometimes you don’t recognise him – but did you ever truly know him to begin with? And you also don’t recognise yourself. You feel like a snuffed-out candle and you don’t know what to do with yourself. Steve’s room suddenly feel suffocating, but where else are you supposed to go?

But it’s like there’s an invisible barrier stopping you from leaving his room. The fear of running into Bucky is the biggest barrier, and so everything else comes to a standstill. Cleaning, laundry, all the little things you used to do around the house for Steve and yourself. Things you didn’t even realise had become routine until now. You barely go into the kitchen anymore, with Steve now bringing food up to his bedroom for the two of you.

Soon, your end-of-year exams finish, and looking out onto campus through your window, you can see other students packing up and leaving. Laughing and hugging their parents who show up in pick-up trucks and moving vans. Friends saying tearful goodbyes because everyone’s going home for the summer. Is that what you should do? Go home? When your mother hasn’t given you a call in more than a few months now?

One day, you’re staring listlessly out the window when you hear a knock on the door. Turning your head ever-so-slightly, your eyes meet with Sam’s.

“Steve isn’t here.”

“I know. I wanted to speak to you.” Sam steps into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him. Your breath hitches in your throat, and the alpha scoffs when you get up and take a step backwards, “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

It’s less a fear of Sam and more a fear of something bad inevitably happening that makes you swallow harshly. Sam isn’t as bad as Bucky but he was still awful to you, still said the meanest things to you and had done nothing when Bucky locked you out of the house. So, your body is on high-alert as you gaze warily at him now.

“Go away.” You don’t want to beg him, but you don’t have the willpower to even try to be assertive anymore. It’s not like any of the alphas in this house ever listen to you, anyways. “Just go away, okay? I have nothing to say to you.”

Sam scowls at the floor, kicking the carpet before inhaling deeply and looking up to meet your eyes. Why is he here? To ridicule you? Berate you? Laugh at you? Do you even care anymore?

“I’m sorry, okay?” He blurts out, the words tumbling out of his mouth so quickly that you’re stunned for a second, unsure if you’ve heard him correctly. Sam himself looks stunned, and you get the feeling that he’s never apologised to anyone before, let alone an omega. And nobody’s ever apologised to you before, not any of the alphas who’ve bulled you. Not Steve. And certainly not Bucky.

Sam takes a step closer to you, and this time you don’t flinch away.

“Look, I won’t pretend I’m a saint, okay? I know I’ve never been nice to you… But things went too far the other day and I’m man enough to admit that.” He’s still speaking fast, as if he wants to get it all out before he changes his mind.

Should you trust him?

“And I don’t know what the fuck came over Bucky that night,” Sam continues, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Usually he’s the nicest out of the three of us. And I was high as fuck that night, I thought he’d let you in eventually, so I just went upstairs. But whatever, I’m not making any excuses for him or myself.”

You exhale slowly, willing yourself to look up at his face, search for even an ounce of laughter, or a twitch of a smile – any hint that this is all a sick joke.

“So, consider this an apology. And you don’t have to say anything, and you don’t have to forgive me. But just know that you won’t be getting that sort of treatment from me anymore.”

Silence. Except your mind’s working in overdrive: should you trust him? Should you believe him? Did you even want to forgive him? Does this apology make up for all the verbal abuse, berating and bullying that you’ve suffered, with him being one of the main perpetrators? Did his apology even matter anymore, when the damage was already done?

You never get a chance to respond because Steve walks in at that very moment. The blond alpha freezes at the doorway, a bouquet of yellow roses clenched in his hand and a frown quickly forming on his face. His blue eyes narrow as he looks from you to Sam, who’s standing only about a foot away from you.

“Get away from her before I fucking kill you.”

There’s a flurry of movement, the yellow roses drop to the floor and it takes Steve only two strides to cross the room and stand between you and the other alpha.

Sam raises an eyebrow, “Chill out. I only came in here to–”

“Get out.” Steve is curt and seething at the same time, and for a moment it looks like Sam’s about to square up. He opens his mouth to speak before clamping it shut and shaking his head.

“I’m so fucking done with this bullshit.” Sam says under his breath before exiting the room, leaving you alone with the sound of Steve’s rapid breathing as your alpha whips around to stare you down. Your heart lurches when he grabs you by the shoulders, shaking you while those blue eyes never leave your face.

“You were gonna fuck him, weren’t you?”

Your jaw drops at how ludicrous his accusation is, how shockingly unbelievable.

“Wh-What? No, I wasn’t–”

“Don’t lie to me.” With clenched teeth and eyes that look half crazed, you see his pupils darting around as if trying to find the truth in your face. Jaw clenching and unclenching, he squeezes your shoulders and shakes you again, “Don’t think I don’t know what game you’re playing. You think you can cheat on me just because I cheated on you?”

“No–”

“You think you could ever get away with that?” Blonde hair falling over his forehead, eyes bloodshot with anger, he looks like he’s teetering at the edge of his own sanity. “You think you could just hook up with someone else as some sick form of revenge on me, do you?”

“Steve, no–”

“Where’s your phone?” Steve looks incensed, eyes scanning the room like a man possessed. Grabbing it from on top of the dresser, he goes through it quickly. Like he’s done a thousand times before, except this time it’s like he knows he’ll find something. You thank your lucky stars that you deleted the phone call with Peter from your call history – not that that counted as cheating in the slightest.

His frown grows deeper as he opens every app, scrolls through every chat, scours through your call logs. But you feel an eery since of calm – which is the opposite of Steve who looks like he’s about to explode with whatever mad anger that’s suddenly consumed him.

“Don’t you fucking think you can go behind my fucking back, you got that? Especially not with my friends, or that fucking scum beta ex of yours.” He throws your phone down on the bed, clearly having found zero evidence to back his absurd claims, but it doesn’t stop him from glowering at you.

“Listen to me very carefully, omega.” Steve scrunches your face between his thumb and fingers, his expression so intense it chills your blood. “You’re mine. I’m your alpha and I own you. That’s never going to change. If you ever cheat on me, I’ll kill him. And you too.”

He slams his lips against yours in a kiss so bruising, you feel your lips burn. And this kiss is different, you can almost taste the desperation as he moves his tongue against yours. As he holds you close to him so tightly that it hurts, and you can’t breathe, and you feel like he’s never going to let you go.

You fight the urge to kiss him back – because even now, that urge is still there. It’ll always be there. Palms press desperately against his hard chest in a bid to push him away.

“I wouldn’t do that to you!” You cry out as you pull away, “I would never deliberately hurt someone I care about, Steve. I’m not you!”

He lets go of you as suddenly as he’d grabbed you, breathing hard and still seething. And it’s almost like you’re really seeing him now. Steve, who was always so poised, so smooth as he clinically seamed his words together in the past. But now? The distant, crazed look in his eyes, the dishevelled features, hair unkempt, jaw tense, lips bitten and pursed. He’s always been beautiful but there’s an unpredictable edge to him now that maybe wasn’t there before.

Was the alpha losing control?

He backs away, fists clenched at his sides and that intense and crazed expression still on his face. You both stare at each other, it feels like your heart’s about to thud out of your chest. And then abruptly, he turns and strides out of the room, stepping over the bouquet of yellow roses that lay trampled and dejected on the ground.

***

The days all start looking the same. You’re so stationary in Steve’s room yet you feel like you’re running. Constantly running and hiding from the responsibility of the child growing inside of you. Tell him, tell alpha! He deserves to know! The omega inside of you shrieks and croons, but something’s stopping you from doing it. There’s a mountain of problems surrounding you and Steve – where would a baby fit in all of that?

The silence between the two of you grows louder as each day passes. Barely any words spoken, and a certain awkwardness that was never there before – certainly never from Steve himself. Yet despite all that, every night he holds you while you sleep. And every morning, you wake up in his warm embrace. And it’s only in those moments, in the quiet of the night with the weight of his arms around you, that you can pretend everything’s okay.

And then one day, Steve walks into the room and sits next to you on the bed. You think nothing of it, barely glancing at him before going back to examining the pattern of the duvet cover.

“Omega.” Steve says, but as usual he seems so far away. And it’s almost like you don’t have the energy to acknowledge him, even when he grabs your hand and squeezes it. It’s only when he says your name – your real name – that you look up. He barely ever calls you that.

“Have you eaten today?” He asks, a frown adorning his features when you shake your head listlessly. You’d attempted to go down to the kitchen earlier, but upon hearing Bucky’s voice you’d turned and come straight back into the bedroom, heart pitter-pattering and a sinking feeling in your chest.

He takes out a wrapped deli sandwich and a bottle of water from his gym bag. His blue eyes watch you like a hawk as you slowly take a sip of water and tear off a bit of the sandwich, chewing softly. It tastes like nothing, but you figure it’s better to just keep quiet and eat it – since you’re meant to be eating for two now anyways. And just that thought sends shivers down your spine – how long can you pretend not to acknowledge the existence of the baby growing inside of you? How long before you have to tell him?

Steve clears his throat, “Look, I know things have been…” His voice trails off as he watches you tear off tiny pieces of your sandwich, staring into your lap because you just can’t seem to look at him. He shifts around, and you feel a spark of unease in the bond you share with him.

“I got you something.” He says finally, reaching into his gym bag a second time, he takes something out and throws it into your lap.

The fur looks worn out and one ear is missing, and you can see the haphazard stitches on the teddy bear’s neck that hold it together. Not the neatest thread work, but it looks strong enough despite the head which is slightly lopsided. Coal black eyes shining bright as ever, and the same blue bow tie except now it has a few more loose threads than before.

“Steve Junior…” You breathe, running your fingers over the stuffie, and his fur feels just as soft as before. He looks so old, so worn out, pieced together and stitched so precariously but it’s him. As ridiculous as it sounds – he’s just a stuffed animal after all – but it’s him and now suddenly your mouth feels dry. You bring the stuffie up to your nose and you’re bathing in Steve’s alpha scent, so potent and rich and warm.

“It took me a while to find someone who’d fix him up.” Steve breaks the silence, scratching the back of his neck. You sneak a peek up at his face to find him scanning yours, as if gauging your reaction. “A lot of his cotton stuffing was dirty so I had to replace it. But the rest of him is all him, just as he was before. I thought of just buying you a new one, but I figured you’d appreciate this more.”

You nod slowly, stroking the top of Steve Junior’s head as if you can’t get enough of it. “You gathered up all the pieces from the kitchen floor?”

“Yes.”

It’s a monosyllabic answer, but his eyes say a lot more. At least, you think they do and you wish he’d verbalise it. Instead, with a hesitancy that was never there before, Steve slowly pulls you into his lap, holding you close against his chest, where you can feel the dull thud of his heartbeat. And you let yourself be held, feeling his alpha warmth that you haven’t felt in a while now.

Warm hands cup your face and make you look up at him. And it’s his tenderness that you can’t wrap your head around. Is this the same Steve who so vehemently accused you of cheating on him just days ago? Why was it always a different emotion with Steve? Always a different mask, as if he could switch them out so easily. What were you supposed to believe?

He kisses you like someone who’s parched, and again you feel that desperation on his lips. Before, his kisses were always so confident, self-assured, taking what he needed from you and leaving you breathless and reeling in the process. Now, he’s gentle. Handling you as if you’re made of glass. And it feels so foreign to you.

You let yourself kiss him back. Steve sighs and increases his pace, tongue swiping over your bottom lip, making you gasp before he gains entrance. His hands fall down to your hips at the same moment your arms wind around his neck. It’s frenzied movement and a blur of limbs, like two people who’ve suddenly realised they can’t get enough of each other after days of no contact.

“Fuck,” Steve mutters under his breath, squeezing your hips before his hand slips down between your legs, cupping your mound in his warm grip. You pant, jerking forward, squashing Steve Junior between both your bodies. You pull away long enough to prop your stuffie up on your pillow, making sure he’s sitting upright before Steve drags you back to him.

“You need me, don’t you?” He whispers fervently against your lips, biting and nipping while the heel of his palm grinds against your clothed pussy. “Tell me you need me.”

You do need him; you’ll always need him. It’s what terrifies you the most. But you try not to think, try to lose yourself in the feeling of his lips smattering kisses all over your jaw and moving down to your neck. He slips his hand into your panties, eliciting another gasp from you, and a jerk from your hips that can’t help but want him.

You start moving against his hand, riding it while he slips a finger inside you. Your slippery pussy swallowing his digit as if you’re starved, walls so needy that they constrict around him and you moan, grabbing at his shoulders, wanting to feel more of him. Nothing’s solved, nothing’s okay – but he’s made you so addicted to his touch that, for a second, it doesn’t even seem to matter.

His hands have snaked up your shirt, palm pressing against your belly like how he always used to do before. Except now it’s different, now it makes your eyes widen and a cold panic rise in the pit of your stomach. Again, the picture plays behind your eyes: you, alone with your baby. Dark and dreary, and Steve’s nowhere to be found. He’s gone. He’s left you. Did he kiss that other omega like this?

“STOP!”

You push hard against his chest, the force of the blow surprising both of you. You scramble off him, hands shaking and you can still feel his burning kiss on your lips, and his touch on your body too. You back away slowly, shaking your head and breathing hard.

“I can’t, I–” Your eyes dart to Steve’s face, and he’s looking up at you with what looks to be concern, as if he’s just kicked an already injured puppy. Repeatedly, you shake your head, “I’m sorry, I just… I just can’t!”

Running to the bathroom, you slam the door shut and that’s when the tears spurt out and you’re sobbing and sobbing. It seems like you’re always crying – as if the self-pity will just never end – but it’s like you can’t stop. Why couldn’t you just become okay again?

Everything is okay! The omega inside you screeches. He fixed Steve Junior! It shows he cares! Everything’s okay now!

If everything was okay, then why did nothing feel fine at all?

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you see an omega who is weak and broken. Red eyes, bitten nails, puffy face. Hair unkempt, hands shaking pathetically, clothes crumpled. Was this the omega who was meant to keep Steve happy? Was this the omega who was going to have his baby? You cradle your stomach as rivulets of tears flow down your face.

“What are we gonna do?” You whisper softly, your sobs making your words almost indecipherable. “I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do.”

You don’t hear the thud of the footsteps, only the crash of the bathroom door as it’s thrown open, Steve striding towards you and grabbing your shoulders before you have a chance to even cower.

“What’s wrong with you?” He roars, but there’s desperation in his anger as he shakes you by the shoulders.

“I don’t know!”

“What’s it going to take to get you to go back to how you were before?”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

You flinch when he draws his hand back, wondering if this is it. If he’s finally run out of whatever patience he had up until this point and now you’re in for it. You brace yourself for the inevitable blow, taking a deep breath and willing yourself to disassociate from the pain. But you only see Steve looking at you incredulously, his hand slowly curling into a fist by his side.

“I wouldn’t hit you.”

He looks almost appalled, staring down at his own fist for a handful of tense seconds, during which you can hear the sounds of your own rapid breathing and every single beat of your heart too.

“It wouldn’t matter if you did.” You say it softly, more to yourself than to him.

As if exhausted of all his options, Steve’s grip on you loosens. Blue eyes boring into yours, reflecting the helplessness that you can also detect in your bond.

“I told you to forget about it.” His hands cup your face again, thumbs swiping away your tears. “Why can’t you just forget about that night, why can’t you just let me make you happy?”

More than anything, you wish you had an answer for him.

***  

Despite talking lesser and lesser and slowly becoming strangers by day, the magnetic pull between the two of you increases at night. Where it’s dark and warm and you can pretend it’s all okay, that’s when Steve holds you and you let yourself be held by him every single night.

Which is why you wake up with a start, on the bed completely empty besides you and the newly resurrected Steve Junior.  A glance at your phone tells you it’s past midnight – so, where’s Steve? Blindly, you reach out for him – but he’s not there and, despite everything, this troubles you.

He’s left you, the dark voice at the back of your head cackles. You thought you could get away with being upset with him for this long, and now he’s left you, just like he said he would if you got out of line.

You’re not even fully awake before you’re on your feet, trying to keep your dizziness at bay. It’s another symptom of your pregnancy, another reminder of the secret you’re holding inside of you, another reminder that you need to tell someone. But right now, all you can focus on is where is Steve?

You find him on the small balcony that overlooks the back of the house. Elbows resting on the railing and blonde hair looking silver in the moonlight. He looks back as if he senses you, cigarette between his lips and a cloud of smoke surrounding him before he turns his back to you once more.

Before you can change your mind and go back to bed, you venture forward to stand beside the alpha, heart thudding as it always does whenever you’re near him. After days of his hot and cold behaviour and your own depleting moods, you realise you don’t know how to act around him or what to say. A gust of cold wind blows and you shiver, but it gives you this sudden burst of courage to speak.

“You shouldn’t smoke so much.” You blurt out. It’s the only thing you can think of to say; you’ve seen Steve smoke here and there a few times, at parties or gatherings with his friends. But never at home, in the middle of the night, with two empty beer cans rolling around by his feet.

To your surprise, Steve puts the cigarette out. Dropping it to the floor and stomping on it before turning away from you to exhale the final puff of smoke. You watch as it swirls into the night air, dissipating almost immediately.

“Sharon used to say that a lot.” He remarks, and hearing his ex’s name on his tongue feels like a punch to your gut – he’s never voluntarily mentioned her before. You turn around to leave, but his next words stop you short. “It’s funny, because I never gave a fuck about what she said. Or any of the other girls I was with.” He looks at you squarely, “I cheated on all of them too. And I never thought anything of it.”

It feels like there’s needles in your throat when you swallow, tumbling all the way down to your stomach and tearing you up from the inside out. Why is he telling you this?

“I thought it would be the same with you. You’re just an omega after all, why should I care about what you say or how you feel?” The full moon’s reflecting in his eyes, giving them an alien silver glow that makes him look like a stranger. And maybe he is a stranger, because he’s never opened up like this with you before.

“But I do.” He says it so quietly, it almost gets lost in the night air. Another gust of chilly wind has your teeth chattering, goosebumps covering your bare arms as you stand there and stare at him in only your nightgown. You don’t protest when Steve shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, smoothening the lapels and his fingers linger at your collarbone. For a split second, he leans closer, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply before sighing.

“I’ve hurt girls in the past and I’ve never cared. But you…” He turns back, looking over the balcony railing, and you wait a few beats, your mind silently urging him to finish his thought.

“I thought I could cheat on you and things would be fine after that. That I’d scare you into acting right and we’d just go back to how things were.” The words tumble out of his mouth quickly, as if he’s spitting them out before his ego catches up and swallows them back into his brain.

“Sharon warned me about you.” You blurt out.

His head whips around, faster than the frenzied winds that surround the two of you, “You spoke to her?”

“I–I didn’t believe her. I didn’t want to believe her because I liked you so much.”

“I know you did.” Steve cocks his head to the side, looking at you almost curiously. The stars dance in his eyes, and tufts of his blonde hair blow up with the strong wind, “How could you like me that much, despite everything?”

You don’t know what to say. How could you like him that much? Despite everything he’d done to you? Was it because the forced mating compelled you to feel things for him? No – your feelings were more complex than that. They’ve been there since the beginning, when he would bully you and you wished to God that he would like you. To after he mated you, and how you’d persuaded yourself that he’d changed, that he did like you now. To when he confessed to cheating, and your whole world broke down…

It's less of a realization and more of a fact: you like Steve a lot – more than Peter and more than your mother. Because you could live without Peter and you could even live without your mother. But you don’t think you could ever live without Steve.

When you don’t answer, Steve sucks in his breath and looks away again, “You’re pure, you know? The way you act, how good you are. And it… confuses me.”

You have to grip the railing hard to keep yourself rooted in reality – was Steve genuinely confiding in you?

“I’ve never second-guessed myself before.” He says after a long, long pause. As if he’s got a script pictured in his mind and he keeps mentally rewriting it and scratching things out. “But you… You make me second-guess everything.” It sounds like an accusation, but a resigned one; and you focus on his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “I shouldn’t have made you think I was going to leave you. Because I won’t. Ever. I can promise you that right now.”

You nod, tentatively taking a step towards him and he mirrors your actions, his hand reaching up to stroke your cheek. It’s instinctive when you lean into his touch, feel the rough pads of his fingers rub against the soft skin of your face. He traces your cheekbones, and he’s so gentle. You wish you could freeze this moment, because Steve’s emotions are like the changing tide. Would he be this tender tomorrow or the day after – or even two minutes from now?

“You should go back to bed.” He says abruptly, as if on cue.

Why is your heart sinking? Why do you want to stay? But you listen to him anyway, a large part of you will always listen to him, always want to be good for him. And it’s when you’re a good few steps away that you hear him clear his throat.

“Omega?”

“Yes, Steve?”

“I’m sorry. For all of it.”

A coolness spreads across your chest, like a pleasant, soothing balm that calms you from the inside out. Your heart steadies, and you feel like you can breathe again.

***

“He’s not in his room, Steve.”

“I don’t fucking care.”

“He’s our running back, we need him. Especially today.”

“Jensen can play his position. Now let’s just fucking go.”

Behind the closed door of your bedroom, you can hear Steve and Sam’s muffled voices out in the hallway. You don’t mean to eavesdrop, but the two of them seem to be growing collectively louder and louder.

The tension seems to be running high between the two of them – you’ve hardly seen them speak since the day Sam apologised to you and Steve exploded on him. But the two alphas seem even more stressed out today, with the final football match of the season against a rival college in less than a few hours.

“Jensen can’t play as good as Bucky.” Sam quips.

“Bucky’s not here.” Steve says through clenched teeth, “He’s probably out somewhere, either passed out or hungover. And we don’t have time to start a manhunt for him so let’s just go.”

The bedroom door bursts open and you freeze as Steve storms in past you. The two of you haven’t spoken since last night when he’d apologised on the balcony. Granted, he’d been busy all day prepping for the game tonight – last minute workouts and strategizing with his team. And you had about three loads of laundry to get through since you’d been neglecting things like that for the past few weeks now.

And yet the lack of contact between the two of you made you wonder whether he was already regretting his apology. Or worse – what if he was going to pretend that he never apologised at all?

If anything, Steve seems more riled up and on edge now than ever, rummaging through the already messy bedroom (you had neglected cleaning too, and it’s not like Steve himself ever cleaned). “Where the fuck is it??” He murmurs under his breath, tossing clothes out of the closet and onto the floor.

“Wh-What are you looking for?” You ask him quietly, wondering whether he can detect the awkwardness in your tone. Sure, he’d apologised – but where do the two of you stand now? In some awkward limbo between “okay” and “not okay”?

Steve sighs, stepping away from the closet and grabbing his gym bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he makes his way over to you.

“Nothing.” He murmurs, reaching out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. You gulp, wanting to say something, anything. Maybe wish him luck for the game? But you’re too shy, lips feeling like they’re glued together and heart beating harder than ever. Steve opens his mouth to say something else, and then–

“STEVE, LET’S GO!” Sam bellows from downstairs.

Steve leaves without another word.

You spend the day doing all the chores you’d neglected for the past few weeks. It’s crazy to you how much of a difference two words can bring about. You’d spent the past few weeks lying listlessly in bed, feeling numbingly indifferent half the time and cripplingly stressed out for the other half. And you’re still stressed – how can you not be? Pregnant within your first year of college and you still haven’t told a soul.

But it’s somewhat easier now to make a mental list of everything – washing and drying three hampers of clothes (you wonder if you can put Steve Junior in the washing machine but after seeing the precarious stitches on his neck, you conclude that handwashing him would be safer). You also venture downstairs to clean the kitchen (and it’ll never cease to shock you, what a mess three alphas can make).

It's only when you’re deep into cleaning the bedroom that the vacuum cleaner catches on something poking out from under Steve’s side of the bed. A rectangular book with a black velvet cover – it seems unassuming enough yet it piques your curiosity anyways. Maybe because it’s got Steve’s scent all over it.

You expect blank pages – Steve’s not the type to make notes – but nothing could truly prepare you for what you actually see when you open the book.

It’s you.

Over and over again. Drawn on one page, then again on the next. You flip five pages down, and there you are again. Different renditions of you on almost every single page and the book is more than half filled up. You in pencil sketches, you in watercolour; there’s one of you with a pen in hand, clearly taking notes. Another of you sitting under a tree, drinking from a juice-box, one of you on your phone, and plenty more of you studying – always wearing your oversized hoodie.

The most recent one is of you sleeping, wearing his jersey with the holes in it and Steve Junior clutched tightly in your arms. It’s with shaky breath that you trace a trembling finger over the masterful strokes, admiring the accuracy of the teddy bear’s blue bow tie – all the way down to the loose threads! And the attention to detail is astounding – your hair, your skin, the slight furrow between your brows…

It's a lot to take in. Had Steve drawn these? He must have! You didn’t even know Steve could draw like this because never once had he done it in front of you. And how long had he had this book for? There were so many drawings – was it from before you and him got together? Carefully, you close the sketchbook and place it neatly back under the bed.

Almost as if you’re in a trance, you walk around to your own side of the bed to where your little makeshift nest is. What’s left of it anyways, since you haven’t really kept up with the upkeep and right now all it consists of is your teddy bear and Steve’s jersey with the holes in it.

His lucky jersey. Was that what he’d been looking for earlier?

Steve Junior looks at you with his coal black eyes as if conveying to you exactly what you’re thinking. Thoughts racing, you stroke his fur softly, the action reminding you of the rare occasions when Steve would fall asleep before you with his face buried in the crook of your neck. When you’d card your fingers through his hair because you were too shy to do it when he was awake.

You feel the sudden urge to do it now as you hold onto his lucky jersey. The one he was looking for. The one he probably needs right now. Right?

Grabbing your phone to check the time, you find that it’s already early evening – the game would be almost over by now. Could you possibly make it in time? Would this even be worth it?

You seem to have made up your mind before you can even begin to answer any of those questions.

***

“Let her in, that’s the quarterback’s girlfriend.”

Getting into the college stadium is easier than you thought it would be. In fact, it’s surprisingly easy, as if the universe is paving a path for you straight to Steve. You thought your significance at university was that of an ant surrounded by giants – but the guys hanging by the ticket booth recognise you immediately, one of them even offering to personally take you inside.

“You should go to the box by the front, that’s where all the girlfriends hang out.”

Never in your life have you been to a college football game before – or a football game of any variety for that matter. Feeling completely out of your depth, you put all your faith into this guy you’ve just met as he guides you through the waves and waves of people. You try your hardest to swallow down your anxiety – you hate large crowds – your nails digging into your palms while your heart races, already wondering whether coming here was a mistake.

“I’m Colin, by the way.” The guy says before pausing to look up at the gigantic scoreboard, “Uh-oh. We’re still down by a few points. That’s why I was outside, couldn’t handle the pressure – even as just a spectator.”

Down by a few points? You clutch Steve’s lucky jersey harder between your fingers, wondering what exactly you thought you’d accomplish by coming here. The game was in full swing – it’s not like you could toss the jersey into the field and hope Steve would notice and pick it up.

“I just think today’s a bad day for the team,” Colin explains, “Steve seems distracted – well, that’s what my friend Jake told me. Jake’s on the team too, but he’s usually on reserve. Except he’s playing today because Bucky didn’t show up, and if you ask me–”

Colin’s voice drowns out as your nerves go into overdrive. Slowly, after ages of weaving through a very intense and rowdy crowd, the two of you make it to a cluster of seats in the front row. A bunch of cheerleaders are standing there in a group, biting their nails with frowns and looks of concern etched on their faces – the girlfriends.

You gulp, glancing down at your own attire and knowing you’ll stick out like a sour thumb. All your new clothes that Steve had bought you were currently in the washing machine – leaving you with the one piece of clothing that you hadn’t worn in a long time. Your oversized hoodie.

Not that it matters right now.

“Well, there you go. Front row seats to all the action – although it’s looking pretty bleak right now, so I’d look away if I was you.” Colin grimaces, glancing at the scoreboard once more. “We’re down by five points and there isn’t much time left on the clock.”

You manage a tight smile, feeling like a tiny fish inside the Pacific Ocean. “Thank you for helping me, Colin.” You say softly.

“No worries.” Colin’s already walking away – clearly, he has no faith left in this game, “Oh, and please don’t tell Steve I spoke to you, okay? He’s probably going to be in a bad mood when – if – we lose this game, and he usually takes his anger out on Jake or me, and this’ll just make it worse, and–”

And then he’s gone, and you make your way past the cluster of cheerleaders, whispering out a soft “excuse me” every time you make eye contact with one of them. They all look you up and down, but thankfully don’t say anything as you walk over to the front, where you now have a clear view of the field.

Steve’s got his team in a huddle, yelling out instructions that you can’t hear. He’s in his blue jersey with his helmet under his arm, blonde hair fluffy and messy and his face pale yet flushed at the same time. And he does look stressed and distracted just how Colin had said. Would he be angry if his team lost? Would he be mad at you for coming? With Steve, one never really knew what to expect, and you suddenly feel extremely foolish, standing here in your ill-fitted hoodie with a jersey full of holes in your hands.

All the players take their positions for the final few minutes of the game. From your limited understanding of football, you can tell that the stakes are very high. The girl next to you can’t stop biting her nails and clutching onto her friend’s arm.

Your eyes are trained on Steve, focused only on him despite the fact that there’s ten other players wearing the same blue jersey and helmet as him. That’s when you feel the mark on your neck suddenly prickle, and Steve’s heard jerks up at that exact moment as if on cue, turning back to look directly at you.

His face is obscured by his helmet, but it makes your breath catch in your throat all the same. Like it did every time he’d strut into the lecture hall, every time you’d see him in the hallways, and those times when he’d show up to your dorm room. He’s yards away from you, but you shoot him a small smile – it’s the first time you’ve smiled at him in a long time now and you wonder if he can even see it.

The whistle blows and there’s a flurry of movement. For a handful of seconds which feel like ages, you don’t even know where the ball is. Everything’s moving so fast, and a glance up at the gigantic timer shows you there’s barely any time left. But the seconds feel like hours, the anticipation growing high not only within you but in the crowd around you. You lean forward over the rails, eyes scanning the field and you see a blur of blue with a handful of players chasing behind it.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Steve run so fast, yard after yard, as if he’s racing against the clock – which he is. And then his teammate – all the way from the other end – heaves the ball downfield. You see it soaring in the air, so quick that it’s easy to miss. And there’s mere seconds left on the clock, and there’s about four defenders surrounding Steve but he’s gotten past the goal line, and he jumps up, and –

There’s a split second of silence before the stadium erupts in cheers. You realise you’d been holding your breath, and you blink several times before you see the ball in Steve’s hands, hoisted up high. And he’s cleared the goal line, and his teammates are charging at him, whooping in the air.

“I can’t believe it!” The cheerleader next to you screeches in glee, grabbing her friend as they both jump up and down, “A touchdown! We won!”

And sure enough, the huge screen at the front flashes “touchdown!” in huge block letters, and everyone seems to be beside themselves. You exhale in relief, the cheerleaders’ infectious excitement rubbing off on you as you can’t help but smile. Steve is swarmed by his team, and they lift him up. And now you can see him more clearly, see when his eyes zero in on you.

On the shoulders of his teammates, but he’s looking directly at you. You want to give him a little wave but you feel too shy, and you wonder whether you should leave now since he’d obviously want to celebrate with his team. But, as if he somehow senses your intentions, it takes Steve about a millisecond to get back down on the ground, and then he breaks into a run – straight towards you!

You grip onto the railing in anticipation, and Steve crosses the distance in almost record time. There are people in the crowd who’ve invaded the pitch, congratulating his teammates and staring after him as he makes a beeline towards you. Wide-eyed, you stare as he gets closer and closer, his cheeks flushed pink and chest puffed out as he comes to a stop in front of you.

“You’re here.” He says, slightly out of breath.

“Y-Yeah, you’re uh–” You’re suddenly at a loss for words, but you hold up his lucky jersey as if that’s a sufficient enough explanation. Clearing your throat, you add: “Congratulations, Steve. You played really well.”

He stares at you for a moment, and then before you know what’s happening, his hands wrap around your hips, lifting you up over the barrier and into his arms. You squeak, arms instinctively winding around his neck and your legs wrap around his waist.

He kisses you, and there’s an explosion of summer sunshine behind your eyes and all around you. The scent of firewood and an intense summer day interweaves through all your senses – all you can taste, smell, breathe is him. And it’s you who pulls him closer, returning his kiss with double the enthusiasm, your lips working against his as if you’re willingly ready to be consumed in him.

Steve draws back, only to kiss you again. One peck, another peck, and then one of his hands slips up and cups your cheek, pulling your face even closer as his tongue probes against yours and he sucks sweetly on your bottom lip, leaving you breathless yet wanting even more when he suddenly pulls away.

“I love you.”

The words seem to burst out of him – and it seems like both of you stop breathing as soon as he says it. As if you’re both encased in this bubble and the people around you don’t matter and those three words are bouncing around the confines of this bubble, echoing and growing louder, embracing you like a hug.

And your whole world stops. There are hundreds of people around you but they all seem to freeze in place, and you can hear your heart thumping to the same beat as his. And his eyes are clear blue and earnest, and you can see your reflection in them. Shocked, surprised, caught off guard yet every cell in your body rapidly filling up with hope.

“Don’t say that…” You breathe, “D-Don’t say things you don’t mean.” Or else I’ll believe you.

“I mean it.” Steve presses his forehead against yours, gripping you so tightly that you feel like you can’t breathe – but in a good way. “I mean it, omega. I’m in love with you.”

He savours each word as he says it, and you feel this hot and cold feeling – rushes of it – throughout your body. Sparks in the pit of your tummy like tiny butterflies fluttering excitably, or firecrackers ready to erupt in a shower of what feels like pure happiness. You feel light, like you could float forever as his words keep repeating inside your head like a song.

Up until this moment, you’ve second-guessed almost every single word he’s said to you. But why aren’t you second-guessing this? Why is your whole body trusting and believing him, erupting in elation as he holds you close? He loves you. Steve loves you! Love! You don’t think anyone’s ever told you they’ve loved you before. Or made you feel this strange feeling; this heady mixture of wanting to laugh and wanting to cry, of feeling so overwhelmed and yet so at home, and, and and–

“Steve, I’m pregnant.”

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. And maybe you don’t want to stop them anymore, because the relief you feel is almost instantaneous.

And Steve stares at you for the longest time, and you focus on the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes rapidly, pink lips parted slightly as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. For one horrific second, you think he’s going to drop you and leave, and take his “I love you” back and tell you it’s over. But he holds you even tighter, and you realise you’re moving as he walks the two of you to a door off to the side, leading to the changing rooms.

Once inside, he sets you down gently on your feet and pins you against the wall, trapping you against his considerably larger frame, looking down at you with an almost foreign look on his face, as if he can’t quite grasp what you’re saying.

“You’re pregnant?” He repeats.

“Yes, I am.”

“Pregnant.” Steve says it again, more to himself than to you, cupping your face, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones lightly. “My omega. Pregnant.”

“Yes.” The more you confirm it and the more he says it, the realer it seems. But it’s crazy how much less scary the prospect of pregnancy sounds when the word is coming out of his mouth. “I took three tests; they all came out positive. My period never came–”

His lips press against yours in a heady kiss that leaves you reeling, and he’s holding you so tightly that you feel light-headed. “My girl carrying my baby, just like I said you would.” Steve whispers against your lips. A smile breaks out across his face, “Baby, you’ve made me so proud.”

Proud. He’s proud. Proud of you.  

He gets down on his knees in front of you, your breath catching in your throat because he’s so big. Even on his knees, his face is level with your chest. His hands, so big and warm, trail softly down your figure – the gentlest he’s ever been. Fingers splayed out and stroking carefully over your stomach, he lifts your hoodie up and presses his face against your soft, exposed skin.

“You’re so tiny,” he breathes, almost in wonder. “So little… How’re you gonna carry my baby inside you when you’re so little?”

Your chest rises as you inhale deeply, a soft whisper of “I don’t know…” leaving your mouth.

Butterfly-light kisses trail up and down your stomach, his lips dragging against your skin, tongue peeking out to lick, nip and suck at your belly – as if he wants to devour you. You get the strong urge to card your fingers through his hair, but you’re so shy that you hesitate, jerking forward instead when the tip of his tongue probes inside your belly button.

Steve looks up, the wonder in his eyes now replaced with a familiar, devilish sparkle.

“I always knew I’d knock you up before the year was over.” He boasts cockily, one hand still firmly stroking your stomach like he’s grown addicted to the feeling. “Didn’t I say it from day one? That I was gonna fuck my baby into you? And now look at you, knocked up like the good, dutiful omega I knew you’d be under my wing.”

He sounds how he did before, the same cocky Steve. But there’s an underlying lightness to his words, this infectious excitement that’s so different from your own cold fear of being pregnant.

“You don’t think it’s too soon, Steve? I mean, I don’t think I’m ready–”

“You’re ready.” He interrupts you, words spoken between kisses against your stomach – it seems like he can’t refrain from kissing you there – “It’s an omega’s duty to have her alpha’s babies, and didn’t I say I’ve got a plan? You, me, and my baby – it’s all coming together now.”

“B-But what about college? You’re graduating now but I’ve still got two more years left, and–”

“You don’t have to worry about any of that anymore.” Steve cuts you off again, standing up to his full height so you have to crane your neck to look up at him. With his shoulder pads on, he looks even bigger than usual, “Didn’t I say I’d take care of you?”

Your concerns are swallowed up by his kiss, and his hand slips down to hook under your thighs. He picks you up easily, and he’s so strong; he only needs one arm to carry you, his other hand cupping your face and pulling you in for another kiss – as if he can’t seem to get enough.

“Poor little baby omega,” He coos, laying you down on a nearby bench and climbing on top of you. You can hear the roar of the crowd close by, everyone celebrating this monumental win for the football team. You know for a fact there are people milling about near you. Steve is undeterred, however, kissing down your neck as he pushes your hoodie up to expose your chest.

“You must’ve been so stressed, huh baby?” More kisses as he unclasps your bra and pulls it off hastily, throwing it somewhere behind him as his eyes zero in on your bare breasts.

“Y-Yeah, I was.” You can’t help but sniffle, sounding small and pathetic but you can’t help it. Telling Steve about the baby feels like a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders, the agonising stress inside your head easing bit by bit as Steve’s large hands squeeze and grope your tits roughly.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl. You don’t have to worry about anything anymore. I know your little brain is tired from thinking so much, now you just leave all the thinking to daddy, okay? All you have to focus on is being a mommy.” He buries his face in your breasts, nuzzling and inhaling your soft skin, squeezing and pushing your tits together till they hurt while you whimper beneath him.

“St-Steve, someone might – ah! – someone might see us!”

“Shhh, didn’t I just tell you not to worry about anything?” He takes your hoodie off completely, and now you’re topless and completely at your alpha’s mercy. He grins wolfishly down at you, “Now, did you know that pregnant baby omegas like yourself are meant to feed their alphas too?”

Your eyes pop open, “Wh-What?”

Steve smirks, palming your tits roughly before rubbing one of your stiff nipples between his thumb and forefinger. You’re half enamoured by the thrill of it, and half paranoid that someone’s going to walk in and see all this, but Steve doesn’t seem to care.

“You didn’t know that you’re meant to feed daddy too? God, you really are a baby, aren’t you?” He pinches your nipple before his tongue peaks out and licks around it, making it even more erect. “All pregnant omegas have to let their alphas have a taste of their milk.”

“I haven’t – ah! – I haven’t read about that anywhere!” You try not to moan.

“That’s because you’re just a baby,” Steve coos before encasing your nipple in his mouth and giving suckling on it not so gently. And the action sends thrills straight down to your core, making you gasp breathlessly and clutch onto his broad shoulders. He releases your nipple with a pop, “Now omega, are you gonna let daddy drink your little mommy milk?”

You squirm, “Y-Yes?”

He twists your nipple roughly, “Say it, then.”

“Y-Yes, you can drink it.”

Another pinch. “Say it properly.”

“Yes, you can drink my mommy milk!” You cry out.

Steve smiles, pulling your cheek condescendingly, “Good girl. Not that I would need your permission, since you’re mine after all.” He gives your nipple a feather-light kiss before encasing it between his lips again, teeth grazing against the sensitive bud.

“And address me properly, or I’ll call the whole football team and make them watch while I fuck you.” You can feel him harden at the thought, “I’ll show them exactly how I knocked you up in the first place.”

“Daddy…” you whine, “N-Not in front of anyone, please!”

Steve licks his lips as his eyes drink you in, like a carnal wolf admiring his prey. His gaze focuses on between your legs, his hangs grabbing at your thighs and spreading them apart. Lewdly, he cups your mound and you automatically buck your hips upwards, making him smirk at your neediness. Grinding the heel of his palm against your clothed pussy, you want to hide your face in embarrassment when you see the wet patch forming on your leggings.

“You’re going to be so much hornier now that you’re pregnant,” He breathes, looking at the wet spot between your legs as if he’s entranced. Suddenly, he strikes you; palm slapping against your clothed pussy while his other hand holds your legs apart. You gasp, sparks of pleasure flaring up inside you as he repeatedly slaps your clothed cunt.

“Tell me, baby omega. Who knocked you up?”

“Y-You did!” You cry out desperately, trying to clamber upwards to grab at his shoulders except he easily pins you back down. His head dips down too, straight between your legs till he’s face to face with your pussy. And you wish to God your leggings and panties weren’t in the way, but Steve doesn’t seem to care. His tongue peaks out past his pink lips, licking a stripe up your covered cunt, and you convulse, “Oh fuck!”

“Tell me how you got knocked up, baby.” Steve speaks against your pussy, and you can feel his hot breath through the thin material of your leggings. He lets out a hum before he takes the material between his lips, sucking at the wet spot and making you throb down there, “Tell me how I filled up your little baby cunt and fucked my baby into you.”

You hesitate, and earn a harsh slap to your ass that has you hissing in pain. “Say it!”

“Y-You filled up my baby cunt and knocked me up!” You cry out desperately, rubbing your pussy against his face as he continues to suck your leggings, his nose grazing against your covered folds and making you want him so badly, it hurts. “Daddy – ah! – y-you fucked your baby into me, okay? P-Please!”

It’s insane how quickly he renders you to be delirious, but after weeks of not being intimate with him, it’s like this is exactly what you need. The depravity, the filth, the fear that just about anyone could walk in at any moment. And it’s also the pride you see in his face – alpha is proud of you for getting pregnant, and that just makes you want him even more.

“You’re just a tiny little baby,” Steve sits back up, looking down at you as if you’re some ravishing creature and not just a desperate omega practically humping against him, face contorted in need for her alpha. “How’re you growing my baby inside of you, when you’re a little fucking baby yourself, huh? Daddy’s little baby.”

He peels your leggings off, leaving you in just your panties in the changing rooms where anyone could walk in at any moment. Pressing kisses against your inner thighs, getting closer and closer to your core, and you’re wiggling underneath him, thrusting up into air because you’re so needy for him.

“I’m gonna take such good care of you, baby.” He breathes, sinking down to his knees on the side of the bench and grabbing your calves to pull you to the edge of it. His face between your thighs now, you can feel his hot breath against your panty-covered core. “Gonna keep you so happy. My little wife… I’ll give you everything you deserve.”

Your heart lurches at the word “wife.” He’s never referred to you as that before, but you don’t have the time to mull upon it when Steve’s teeth enclose around your wet panties, pulling them and letting the elastic stretch before he lets go and it snaps back against your pussy, making you whimper softly. He grins, taking the sodden fabric into his mouth again, this time sucking all your slick from the material while your eyes pop at the sight, pussy clenching around air.

“I love you, baby. You’ve made me so happy today. I want to make you happy too.” His voice is dripping with sweetness – and usually you’d be questioning: is he being sincere? Does he mean it? Should I trust him? But just hearing him say it, hearing him say “I love you,” it’s like it makes you stop thinking straight, makes you not want to question him, makes you want to believe him because what do you truly have left if you don’t believe him?

And maybe – just maybe – he does mean it.

“The mother of my child,” Steve coos, blowing cool air on your hot core, and your slick is dripping down to pool underneath you on the bench as he continues to finger the material of your panties, “Aren’t you happy that you’re pregnant, baby? Aren’t you happy that you made daddy so proud?”

You bite your lip, “H-Honestly, I’m scared– ah! – I’m too young, we’re both too young. There’re so many things we have to think about and consider, and– oh! Oh my God!”

Steve chooses that moment to rip your panties in half and dip his head down, pushing back the hood of your clit and encasing the throbbing button between his lips. He sucks down hard, and you automatically raise your hips to grind up against his face, leaving it glistening with streaks of your wetness. His hand lands an open-palmed slap against your bare pussy, the sound so lewd and wet as it echoes across the changing room.

“I asked you if you’re happy for making me proud.”

You gulp, hands reaching down to grab at his blonde tufts – something you’d been itching to do all day. Slowly, you nod your head. “Y-Yeah.” You whisper, “A-Always wanna make you proud.”

“Good girl. That’s what I thought.” He goes back to your clit, spitting down on it. His saliva pools around your button and he uses his thumb to spread it, circling and rubbing it around and around till you can’t take the intensity, and hump up against his hand. “I already told you not to think about anything else, except being a mommy and making me proud.”

Steve lifts your thighs up and props them over his shoulders, and your ankles automatically lock around him, encasing his head between your legs so he’s face to face with your core. And that’s when you feel his tongue, hard and pointed, flick against your clit, once, twice, three times till you’re crying out his name, your thighs already thrashing except his tight grip keeps them pinned to his shoulders.

“Look at your little button, all swollen up and cute.” Steve spits once more, his saliva trailing down your mound to pool around your clit once more. “You missed having your daddy make you feel good, didn’t you?”

“I…I, uh – Ow!” You gasp when he slaps your ass, the sound resonating across the room and you wonder why no one has walked in yet.

“I wasn’t asking you; I was asking her.” Steve licks his lips, looking straight at your glistening folds and using his pointed finger to swipe up and down your wetness. “Look at your little baby pussy, she’s crying because she’s so happy that daddy’s here to take care of her again.” And that’s all it takes for him to bury his face in your wetness once more, enveloping your sensitive folds between his lips and suctioning harshly.

“Mm, fuck, daddy!” You whimper softly, and he reaches up to squeeze your breast possessively.

Licking and sucking his way back up to your clit, his teeth graze against your swollen bundle of nerves, making you throb like crazy as the sparks begin to build up. “So fuckin’ puffy, just for daddy, huh?” He questions, and you gasp out in agreement, your movements getting needier and more desperate as you begin to hump into his face in earnest, your fists tightening around his hair as you practically smear your pussy over his face, feeling his tongue, his teeth, his lips, his nose, even the light stubble he’s starting to grow out – all of it creating delicious friction against you.

Your body is rocked by so many different sensations: he’s practically making out with your pussy as his mouth suctions over it, lapping at your wetness like he’s starved. His tongue, so hard and pointed, fucks into your hole, his nose grazing against your clit before he licks a flat stripe up from your fuckhole up your slit, ending with a hearty suck up on your clit before biting down on the bundle of nerves not so lightly.

“That’s right, baby. My horny fuckin’ little omega, rub your baby cunt on daddy’s face, use me to make yourself cum. Fuck! I said rub yourself on my fucking face! Harder, before I change my mind.” Steve’s teetering between nice and mean, and the heady mix of both makes you scream out and clutch his hair harder, his voice muffled and sending vibrations against your clit. “Hump on daddy’s face, baby, c’mon. Make yourself feel good, show daddy how much you missed me.”

Your orgasm is doubly intense, and for the second time in your life, your juices squirt out, streaming all over Steve’s face and coating him in your slick. And, like a man starved, he wastes no time in swiping his cheek and sucking his finger, his eyes training on your pulsating pussy as you clench and release, over and over again, thighs tightening around his face as you cry out, “Oh! Oh my, d-daddy!”

“Good baby,” He praises you, prying your legs off his shoulders, “Doesn’t it feel so good to just switch off and let your daddy do all the thinking?”

Hands and legs limp like jelly and every thought and worry slowly leaving your mind, you manage to sniffle out a soft yet ashamedly honest, “Y-Yeah.”

You’re completely limp in his arms as he picks you up by the waist, sitting down on the bench and setting you down on his lap, your back against his chest. But not before undoing his fly and pulling his dick out. It looks angry and red and somehow bigger than ever – as if it’s about to explode. You gulp – it’s been so long since he’s been inside you. Would he still fit?

Like a steel rod, his cock pokes out from between his legs, resting pretty between your own thighs that are parted by his hands. Your wetness has spread all the way from your folds to down your legs, and it’s mildly embarrassing just how needy you are for him at this moment. So needy, in fact, that you surprise yourself – your hands grabbing at his dick as if the omega inside you just can’t help it.

“Fuck,” Steve hisses, covering your hand with his own, “Look at your tiny baby hands on my daddy dick.” His tongue is lapping and sucking at his mark on your neck – his favourite spot – but his eyes are locked on the scene in front of him – you palming his dick almost hesitantly, as if you’re scared of it yet want it badly at the same time – which you do.

You swallow harshly, “P-Please.”

“Please what, sweet girl?”

You duck your head, too shy to voice your desire but his hand grips your chin and makes you look up, twisting your head back slightly so he can look into your eyes.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” Steve says softly, beguilingly with blue eyes sparkling, “I already told you I’ll give you whatever you want – you just have to tell me.”

You surge upwards to kiss him, suddenly remembering how he’d rejected your kisses the last time the two of you had had sex. But this time, he captures your lips with his, ravenously making out with you and his tongue dominates yours, licking up every crevice of your mouth like it’s his job to kiss you. Till you can’t breathe and yet you still don’t want to pull away, and it’s him who finally does.

“Or we could just sit here, and I could feel you.” Steve muses, hand gliding his dick back and forth against the soft skin of your thighs before slapping it against your pussy. You gasp and convulse, and he only chuckles as he repeats the action, and you can’t help but close your legs around his dick, as if forcing him to put it inside you.

“Alpha please!” You mewl softly.

“I guess your pregnancy hormones have made you even needier now, huh omega?” He snickers, using his hand to guide yours up and down his dick, making you jack him off. And you can feel every ridge, every vein of his thick dick as it pulses under your hand. And the omega inside you is feral, you want him so badly it’s unreal. All these weeks of no intimacy have you starved in a different way – because being mated to him means always wanting him, always yearning for him, and having no willpower against his charms.

It's with burning cheeks and tears of need welling in your eyes that you utter: “P-Please, alpha! N-Need you inside me, your knot… So bad. So bad!”

“Why? You’re already knocked up.” He’s tracing the tip of his dick against your clit, holding you down as you thrash on his lap. And you don’t understand his willpower – did he not want you as badly as you wanted him? But he continues to slap and stroke his dick against your folds, coating his length in your cream, grabbing you by the hips and grazing you on top of it, physically grinding you against his hard dick yet not putting it inside you.

“Aww, poor baby. Look at your cute little baby cunt, all drippy and leaking all over daddy. You still want my dick, baby? Still want my knot even if you’re already pregnant?”

“Yes! Yes, please!” You want to tell him not to tease you, but you know that he’s your alpha and you can’t really tell him what to do. You know you’re already submissive by nature but in his arms right now, you feel like you’re completely at his mercy, like you’d do anything for him. “N-Need you, daddy. So bad. Just… Just gotta feel you inside… P-Please!”

Steve swears, grabbing the base of his dick and lining it up against your leaking pussy. But he has to lift you up by the hips and slam you back down to get his fat, bulbous tip to finally breach your tiny hole. And oh my God – was it possible that he felt even bigger than ever before? He’s barely halfway inside you and you feel stuffed to the brim already, slippery walls convulsing and crying around his fat cock as it penetrates into you.

“What a tight fuckin’ baby cunt,” Steve grits out, squeezing your tits till it hurts, “God, fuck! Never had a pussy this tight before, baby. It’s like you were made for me.”

He’s so big, it almost feels like it’s the first time – how could you ever have gotten used to such a huge dick? And he’s big everywhere: his muscular legs which hold your entire body weight, his thick arms that hold your thrashing limbs at bay. All six foot six inches of him dwarf you completely. You feel so light, so fragile, so tiny on top of him, his dick slowly going deeper and deeper inside of you, practically ripping you in two.

“S-So big, daddy…” You moan, because it hurts yet it hurts so good, and you love the delicious friction you feel.

“Can’t even go all the way inside you, baby.” Steve say softly, as if he himself is surprised by his own girth and by how small you are. “Fuck, you’re tinier than I remember. Guess I’m too big for you. Your cute little baby cunt can’t take me in, omega.”

“Please! F-Force it in.” Something carnal takes over you then, and you’re surprised by your own words; they sound so desperate, so lust-ridden and unabashed – like you’d die if he isn’t fully inside you.

And Steve growls, pushing out of you and picking you up – and he only needs one arm to do it – before forcibly turning you around so that you’re chest to chest with him. He forces you back down on his dick, and it’s so hard and imposing as it pierces into you, and you can’t help but clamber closer to Steve, both of you gasping against each other’s lips when he finally fills you up till the hilt, and the pain is so deliciously excruciating, you feel like you’ll break in half.

“I think I may have broke your pussy, baby.” He whispers, as you marvel at how much of a tight fit it is, his dick so snugly inside you, stretching out your walls as far as they’ll go around his fat girth. You truly do feel broken, but in the best way, and you wrap your arms around his neck, wanting to be closer.

“D-Don’t care, alpha.” You don’t know what’s suddenly come over you, maybe it’s the fact that he told you he loves you, maybe it’s because you haven’t had sex with him for weeks, maybe it’s because you’ve finally told him you’re pregnant and he’s proud of you, he’s promised to take care of you. Or maybe it’s something else altogether, but your desire for him has never been this high, this intense. Even Steve looks surprised.

Slowly, he starts bouncing you up and down on his dick. And you don’t have to do any work, just sit there and let him manoeuvre you, let him control your movements like a puppeteer, like how he controls every other aspect of your life. And maybe it’s time to admit that you like it that way, maybe it’s time to stop fighting with the omega inside you. Maybe this, here with him, is where you belong.

“You like me splitting you open like this, don’t you?” He whispers against your lips, capturing them in a searing kiss that has you grabbing his face and pulling him closer. Wanting to touch him and smell him and feel him and hold him and everything in between. His dick is hitting that special spot inside of you, making you cry out with every thrust, not caring that you’re being loud and this is a public place and anyone could walk in.

“I love you so much, baby.” And there it is again, those three words once again, penetrating into your heart and tattooing themselves upon it. His hand suddenly grabs yours, holding it close and pressing kisses all over your palm and fingers – and you’re reminded of the night where you’d begged him not to leave you, and how you’d done the same thing.

“I’m never letting you go, omega.” Steve speaks between kisses, all the while his hips are a blur as they move up and down, thrusting inside you like he wants to keep the two of you connected forever. “I’m gonna make you my housewife, keep you locked up and safe so no one can ever hurt you or my baby. I’m gonna take care of you, both of you.”

And you’re nodding feverishly, whispering “okay” over and over again, grinding down to meet his thrusts, biting your lip in bliss when his hand snakes down to where you two meet, his fingers deftly rubbing your clit, heightening your pleasure as his cock continues to tear you in half.

“My omega, all mine,” He growls, balls smacking against your skin as he fucks into you, your poor fuckhole so used and abused yet you don’t even care as you drip all over him, the pleasure growing steadily inside you, coils tightening as he fucks you like only he ever could. “Won’t let anyone else touch you, speak to you, even look at you anymore. You’re my property – my little wife knocked up with my kid. Won’t let anything come between us, not again.”

Through your delirium, you manage to lock eyes with him, clutching at him desperately, and your words come out so softly, and you feel so small when you ask him, “Y-Y-You promise?”

He stalls for a second, just a second, before his thrusts resume, hitting deeper if that’s even possible. He cups your face with his warm hand, and you can smell his heady, musky scent that you’re so addicted to. His eyes sparkle earnestly, like twin blue oceans that you could drown in except the experience would be pleasant. He leans close to you, so close; “I promise, omega.”

You cum so hard, you feel like you’re going to pass out, your walls constricting around his dick, squeezing it so hard while he continues to thrust up into you. You can feel your cream leaking down his dick, staining his uniform but it’s like you can’t stop squirting around him, your slick squeezing out of your worn-out pussy as it pulsates around his hard cock.

“Steve, oh my God, oh my God, fuck!” You cry out in complete abandon, clutching onto his biceps, your nails digging through the material of his jersey.

“That’s right baby, cum on daddy’s dick like the good little girl you are,” He coaxes you, rubbing your bare back almost soothingly, while his fat dick continues to pierce in and out of you at an inhumane pace – as if he’s savouring being inside you, as if he never wants to stop. “Squeeze my fucking dick, omega. Fuck, I’m gonna keep you pregnant forever, baby. Tell me you want that; tell me you want all my fucking babies.”

“W-Want your babies!” You cry out obediently, your body jelly on top of his, limbs twitching as the rushes of pleasure flush through your body. He’s using you like a fuckdoll now, an iron grip on your hips as he pounds into you as if he can’t get enough. His mouth latches onto your mark, licking and sucking possessively, and you think you might pass out from the pleasure – and he still wouldn’t stop.

You feel his dick twitch inside you, and he’s still fucking you through his own release, his seed so hot as it pours into you. Spurting hot cum, coating your insides like he’s trying to brand you, and he grips firmly onto your hair, pulling your face to his and kissing you roughly. “I love you, baby.” He whispers soft as a feather against your lips, and you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of hearing him say it, as you grind down, his thick ropes of cum mingling with your own slick, and he’s still pumping out more. As if his load is so heavy and he won’t stop until you’re completely filled up.

“Marry me.”

For the second time today, he renders you completely speechless. Third time, if you count your reaction to his book of sketches. Cupping both your cheeks and making you look at him and only him, and you don’t know what to think. First ‘I love you’ and now ‘marry me’? The alarm bells are chiming softly in the rational part of your mind – because isn’t all of this happening too fast, too suddenly, too soon?

“Marry me, omega.” Steve repeats, “Let me take you home. To Brooklyn. I’ll take care of you, give you a real home, I’ll make you so happy. And you can leave this place behind.”

Leave it behind? What did he mean by that? Your degree? There’re so many questions on your mind: Is he being serious? Does he mean it? Why is all of this coming out now? Should you believe him, believe his promises – when your own trust in him has come back to slap you in the face multiple times in the past? And what if this is all some cruel practical joke? What about your education, your scholarship? What about your mother? What about… what about… what about–

But it’s like your mind is working in overdrive to forcibly push all those thoughts out, and replace them with how he’d told you he loved you. How he’d apologised to you last night. All the sketches he made of you – those weren’t a joke, were they? They couldn’t be.

Time to surrender, the omega inside of you is beguiling as ever; time to be happy…

“Okay.” You whisper.

He breaks into a smile, like he knows you could never say no to him, and presses kisses all over your face.

There’s a quiet calm as he picks you up, taking you to the nearby bathroom and helping you clean up. You thought your head would be a screaming mess of emotions, but your thoughts are eerily quiet as you let him clean and redress you. Maybe this was all meant to be, and this is where you belonged. Maybe he meant it this time – maybe he’d take care of you and keep you happy forever. And you have the baby to think about too – maybe this was best for the baby.

He carries you back out of the bathroom, only setting you down on your feet when he’s opening the exit doors to get back out onto the field. And even then, he holds your hand tightly – so tightly, as if you’re a kite that might fly away.

Outside, everyone is still celebrating – almost as if the two of you never left. You can see Sam and the rest of the football team popping open cans of beer and pouring it all down their fronts, or shaking hands with different people, or kissing their own girlfriends. Instinctively, Steve’s grip on your hand tightens even more.

“Hey, Cap! We’re taking a team picture with the trophy. C’mon!” One of his teammates calls out before the whole team begins to assemble themselves into haphazard rows while the professional photographer tries to guide them.

You feel Steve hesitating before letting go of you, grabbing your shoulders instead.

“Don’t move, omega. I’ll be right back.”

You nod, smiling softly, “Okay, Steve. I’m right here.”

It’s like he’s searching your face for something, and you wish to God you knew what because you’d show it to him in a heartbeat. But then his face softens, he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. And then he jogs away, joining his friends and being greeted with hoots and cheers and high-fives and chants of his name. He looks like a king on top of his world, standing up front and centre. Someone thrusts the gigantic trophy in his hand, and he holds it up proudly, smiling cockily at the camera.

You take it all in, feeling a mix of emotions ranging from pride for him as well as a certain sense of imposter syndrome. He’s a king and you’re an ant – but he loves you. He told you so, he told you so, he told you so–

“HEY!”

The repeated calling of your name doesn’t register to you until it’s right up against your ear, and you feel someone grip your wrist roughly, tugging you back. You turn around in alarm, mouth dropping open when you see who it is.

“Peter! What are you doing here?”

Peter looks dishevelled, out of breath as if he’s been running around all day. His spiky hair is longer than how you remember it, with brown locks tumbling down his forehead. His cheeks are flushed and eyes bright, the remnants of his fading black eye very apparent on his face. And his hold on your wrist is tighter than ever – just like how Steve’s grip was earlier.

Heart pounding, you glance back at Steve – but he’s still busy hoisting the trophy high in the air, posing for pictures and shaking hands with different people.

“Went to your dorm – you weren’t there.” Peter huffs, trying to catch his breath as quickly as he can. “Someone said you might be here – that the entire college was here. And they weren’t wrong – I’ve been looking for you in the crowd for ages. I figured this would be the best way, since he’d be too busy playing to notice anything.”

Peter casts a quick glance at Steve too, before pulling you further away. When he doesn’t stop, you tug back.

“What’re you doing? We can’t… I can’t be speaking to you, he’ll–”

“Come on!” Peter cuts you off, an almost desperate sense of urgency in his tone as he keeps glancing back at Steve. There’s a certain panic to his demeanour, as if he’s in a hurry. “Look, this is the perfect opportunity – he’s distracted, we can just slip out and –”

“Wait, Peter–”

“No, I’m not going to wait and neither are you!” Peter hisses, yanking your arm and pulling you further and further away, off the side of the field and leading to the stairs where a sizeable crowd of people is still mingling.

“Look, I spent a whole month feeling sorry for myself for getting beaten up… For letting him get the best of me. And I barely spared a second to think of you and what you must’ve been going through.” Peter’s talking rapidly, and he never stops moving, never stops tugging you but he does keep looking over his shoulder in Steve’s direction, his palm clammy as he holds on to your wrist. “But then you called, and you sounded distressed. I knew he wasn’t treating you right, I knew I had to do something.”

You swallow harshly, taking another look back at Steve – now his teammates have hoisted him onto their shoulders again, and he’s still smiling for pictures. A million thoughts race through your head, “Peter, I have to get back, he’s gonna–”

But it’s like Peter doesn’t hear you at all, as he determinedly pulls you up the stairs behind him and towards the exit. And you do want to speak to him, of course you do! You haven’t spoken to him for more than a month, and there’s so many things you want to ask him. But, but, but…

“I’m so fucking stupid for not doing something sooner. You were my girlfriend… You are my girlfriend and I should’ve taken care of you.”

You shake your head rapidly, “Peter, please listen! I don’t want to… I don’t think this is a good id–”

“You’re never gonna have to see that sick sonofabitch again, I promise you that much. I’m doing what I should have done that day I showed up at your dorm – take you away from him.”

“Peter, no, I–”

But either it’s the roar of the people around you or his own determination, but he doesn’t seem to hear your pleas. Everything’s happening too fast, the thoughts racing around in your head and the panic bubbling in your chest. Peter is good, you know this – and you know he means well. And yet…

You feel your mark prickle hotly, and you whip around in time to see Steve’s head snap in your direction. Your eyes lock with his for one single split second, and your mark throbs in pain and you feel a certain unrest in your bond, and it feels like you can’t breathe.

The hurt that flashes through Steve’s eyes is the last thing you see before you’re yanked out the exit and swallowed up by the crowd.

Well. If you managed to make it to the end of this chapter, thank you! I really hope you enjoyed. Guys, I poured my life and soul into this... and I hope I did this chapter justice. Please, PLEASE PLEASE reblog! And give me feedback. That’s what keeps me going honestly. I would love to hear what you think. In fact, i’m nervous to know what you think! And what should we expect for the next part? All I’m gonna say is... Steve’s omega has been taken from him, if he was mean before, it’s nothing compared to what he’ll be now. ALRIGHT BYE. and thank you for all your support! Love you guys!

[jacaerysgf]

Admirer

r.q: Hello! I love your writing! And especially when you wrote the Aegon x f!reader where the reader is shy and it’s all just cute and stuff. could you write something similar with Aegon x f!reader where the reader is again shy but has a huge crush on him? Like she’s a high born lady and secretly writes him letters and leaves stuff in his chamber like for example his favorite wine she saw him drinking, flowers, fruit and other things. Aegon doesn’t know who it is from because the two never talked. But once happens that when she’s putting again some gift into his chamber he catches her. Then some smut if you would be comfortable writing it and eventually he marries her and everything? Because Aegon feels appreciated and loved finally from someone. I want our Aegon to feel some love. Thank you!

w.c: 1.2k

c.w: highborn!f!reader, angsty aegon, kinda corny aegon, proposal ?, no actual smut but heavily implied, DRABBLE !! not proofread

a.n: will prob expand on this in the future bc i love this idea a lot but for now i hope this drabble is good <33

‘you are the most beautiful man I've ever seen i look for you in every room i enter’

‘My affections know no bounds when it comes to you’

‘I hope you shall smile to my prince for your smile is the most glorious sight’

‘you make my heart race and soar’

It had been over a month since the beginning of him receiving gifts each day, each attached with a small love letter to him. He had no clue where these letters and gifts were coming from. when he brought it up to his mother she shook her head and said she had no idea along with questioning some of the handmaidens who also had no idea. it was like a ghost, everyday around the same time late at night he would enter his room and a new gift would be there.

He had thought he was being pranked, that the karma from his past jests was finally catching up to him and he was finally being punished. there was no way someone truly felt this way about him, nobody looked for him in any room, nobody enjoyed seeing him smile. they had to be pranking him and he was very determined to catch you, because you continued to jest with him knowing his favorite wine his favorite desserts for gods sake you had even left him some bandages one time after he had been walking around with a cut on his cheek from an accident.

He was now determined to catch you, to stop this foolish game, to stop himself from thinking it was even real, but he had no clue how to even catch you, you were like the wind and he had no bases to even start from.

He had spent yet another day running around searching for any sorts of signs about this mysterious person and came up empty handed once more. He had been back earlier than usual, when he pushed open the door to his room he stood frozen in shock as the girl in front of him squealed, dropping the plate of cranberry pie on the ground.

He couldn't recognize her, he could tell by her nicer dress however that she had to be from some important family, his eyes fell to the table in which you were standing next to and he noticed a small note. It had been you. the person who was leaving him all these gifts and notes.

“What is your name?” Shaking her head unable to lift her head to look at him, “i am so sorry my prince i-” “Your name?” You give him your name and he rolls it off his tongue easily, testing it out. He quickly closes the door and makes his way swiftly to stand next to you before grabbing you chin and forcing you to look up at him. “Who put you up to this?” A confused look finds its way to the girls face and she shakes her head, “nobody my prince?” the statements ends with a question, unsure of what he even means in the first place.

He takes a second to admire your name, your eyes, every detail of your skin and for a second he hopes its real and that a pretty girl like you truly liked him. “then why have you been leaving me gifts?” he expects you to finally admit it now, that you had simply been toying with him.

You had been helaenas lady in waiting for almost two months now and it had been some of the best times you’ve ever had. The princess is kind, the people are kind enough but what really is a blessing is getting to see Aegon almost everyday. Ever since you first arrived in the keep you had kept your eyes on him, you had thought he was the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. Despite how much you wanted to you couldn't find the courage to go up to him and introduce yourself. Being a member of the great house tyrell you should have this great confidence about you but you never were able to be as outspoken as your siblings so if you really wanted to express yourself you decided you would have to get creative.

You figured out he was always out of his room and the maids weren't in his room during a very specific hour of the day and had just decided it would be easier to now have to face him to give him notes of your affections. but today the prince had come back to his room earlier than he usually did leaving you in this situation. You hadn't figured out what you were gonna say because you had never even really planned on telling him it was you.

“I just rather like you a lot my prince.”

Ever since then he had basically been glued to your side, followed you around everywhere and begged you to join him for meals. It was odd. you had gone from him never speaking to him to him wanting to see you every moment of the day.

One night in particular you had not seen him all day oddly enough and you don't expect to see him, until you’re sitting in front of your mirror preparing for bed when you hear knocking on your door.

You have no clue who could be coming here so late but when you open your door you barely get a look at him before he walks past you and heads straight to your bed laying face down on it.

“My prince?”

He groans and just rubs his further into your pillow. You walk over carefully and place your hand on his lower back. “Is something wrong?”

“missed you.” He hums as you begin to rub up and down his back, “i missed you too my prince.”

“They kept me from you all day.” He pauses for a moment and when he begins to speak his voice is laced with venom. “They want me to marry some bitch from the north.” You pause, your heart breaking into a million pieces as you think about him going off and marrying someone that's not you. “oh…”

He sits up, looking at you with cloudy eyes, you can now smell the wine on him, “I told them no. That i would marry nobody.” you look down at your lap as he moves closer to you, laying his head on your lap. “Nobody if it was not you”

“my prince?” You whisper at him as he presses his cheek against your naked thighs, your night gown having ridden upwards “your father thought it was a wonderful idea. my mother was so mad i thought she was going to smack me in front of them all.” Your breath gets caught in your throat as he grabs your hand and presses it against his cheek. “My prince?” “Call me Aegon my love.”

“what are you saying?” He looks up at you, grabbing you neck and pulling you down so your facing are right next to each other, “marry me.”

“Why?” Mirroring his own question that had been asked not too many moons ago, he looks at you with a wide grin as his eyes drift to your lips, “I guess i just rather like you my love.”

He presses his lips against yours and hums forcefully shoving his tongue in your mouth in a heated kiss. You fall back with him on top of you, his hands sliding to your thighs to push up your night gown to your stomach completely exposing you to him. His fingers lightly rub against your folds “Aegon,,” “Allow me to show you how much i love you.”

[avengersfantasies]

What He Won't

Summary: After being cheated on by Steve, you discover you're pregnant. When you and Bucky hear his reaction, Bucky comes up with an idea.

What to expect: angsty stuff, fluff?

✩ Read the series here ✩

taglist: @kandis-mom @missvelvetsstuff @mavrellover91 @natashasilverfox

You stood in your room in your tiny apartment – looking in the mirror and rubbing your belly. Your heart ached when you thought about the life that this little one had ahead of them. Although you knew you loved them more than life itself, they would have to know nothing of their birth father because after all, he didn’t love you anymore, so why would he love them?

            “Let’s go to work, peanut,” you sighed. It had been a two months since you discovered Steve had been cheating on you, and he and the “other girl” were now official. They were a real item with the public – described as the “perfect couple.” Those who knew what had happened gave Steve shit for it for a little while, but when you seemed to be moving on with your life, they did as well. However, all of that changed yesterday when you were told by the doctor that you were currently three months pregnant. You hadn’t told anyone yet. How could you? You would’ve hated to ruin Captain America’s perfect new relationship. You knew they needed to know, however. You’d start showing soon, and you even had the prenatal paternal DNA test done just in case Steve tried to deny it was his.

            You pulled up to the tower and got out – making sure your oversized shirt covered anything that may be showing. You made a beeline to your office and got settled in – breathing a sigh of relief when you finally sat down. You were early into your pregnancy, but your feet and back were already killing you. Must’ve been a side effect of carrying a super soldier baby. You closed your eyes for a moment before having to get up and sprint to the bathroom. Another side effect of a super soldier baby is the super soldier amounts of nausea. After all, it was these symptoms that made you go to the doctor in the first place.

            “Everything okay?” A warm and familiar voice called out from the other side of the door. It was Bucky. Of all the Avengers, he was the one who was still furious with his best friend. He was the only one to still show you sympathy after what Steve had put you through. “Are you sick? I can take you home if you need.”

            “N-No, thanks,” you managed to respond through heaving breaths. “I’m-I’ll be okay.”

You flushed the toilet, washed your mouth out, and scrubbed your hands before opening the door up to the one person you considered a friend right now.

“Hey,” he greeted you softly, “what’s going on?”

You shook your head and sat down, tears starting to collect in your eyes and falling before you could stop them. “Why couldn’t it have been you?” you asked in a whisper – looking down at your stomach that was still flat for the most part.

“Why couldn’t have what been me?” Bucky asked with a confused tone, one of his eyebrows raised.

You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath before looking back up to the soldier. “Why does Steve have to be the father?”

“What’re you—”

Before he could finish his question, you interrupted him by sliding the envelope towards him. His eyes widened as he read the results of the tests. “You’re pregnant?”

You nodded tearfully. “With Steve’s baby,” you clarified. “That’s he’s not gonna want.”

“We don’t know that,” Bucky argued carefully. “He may want to be involved…may regret what he did to you.”

You shook your head and scoffed. “I don’t want my baby to be used to make him feel bad.”

“Want me to go with you to tell him?” Bucky offered.

You looked down – the feeling of your world crashing was heavier than you anticipated. “What if he doesn’t want anything to do with them?”

Bucky reached his hand over the table and grabbed yours – holding it carefully within his own. “Then I’ll help you figure something out.”

You exhaled – trusting Bucky to be able to help you figure out what to do if Steve claimed to not want to be involved.  He lead you through the compound, finally finding Steve cuddled up with his new girlfriend on the sofa of the large gathering room and watching TV.

“Hey,” Bucky called out nonchalantly – letting you keep your distance at the door. “We need to talk.” He lightly slapped his best friend’s shoulder – causing him to look up at him and then over at the door.

            “Seriously?” Steve sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’re still tryin’ to do this?”

“Nah, man,” he argued, “this is different.”

Steve motioned for the girl in his arms to leave the room, and only when she was gone did you begin to approach the two men. You stayed close to Bucky – feeling safe with him nearby.

“So, what?” Steve shrugged. “You two a thing now?”

“No,” you answered forwardly – glaring down at the man who shattered your heart.

Bucky tossed the envelope containing all of the information he needed to know at his best friend. “Read it.”

Steve sat up on the sofa and started to read over the paperwork. His facial expression began to change almost immediately when he realized what was being told to him. You watched him react silently to the news and all of the tests. You swore you could see a trace of guilt and regret behind his blue eyes. Part of you hoped he’d start apologizing profusely – purely because you wanted the ball in your court. When the ultrasound appeared in his hand from the envelope his hand came up and covered his mouth.

“What did I do?” he whispered to himself – looking at the image of the peanut-sized being that was currently growing inside you.

“We’re not here to bullshit around with you,” Bucky cut off his self-pitying episode. “If you don’t want to be involved, she deserves to know.”

“I don’t…I don’t know,” Steve muttered. “It’s a lot.”

You scoffed and snatched the envelope from him – carefully placing the documents back inside. “I’ll take that as a no. Have fun with your new girlfriend.”

Unable to stand being near him anymore, you left the room with the envelope clutched tightly to your chest, and without another word, Bucky followed you out into the hallway. He pulled you into his arms and held you close as you broke down into a million pieces once again.

“I’ll do it,” Bucky offered – rubbing your back gently. “I’ll do what he won’t.”

“What?” you asked through your tears.

“Be in their life,” he specified. “As a father.”

“Buck…I can’t ask that of you,” you tried to argue.

“You’re not asking,” he corrected, “I’m offering…I said I’d help you figure out what to do if he didn’t wanna be involved.”

You were obviously thrown off by the request he had made, but there was no denying that the way the soldier was looking at and speaking to you somehow helped the million tiny pieces of your heart begin to find their way back together.

[redocity]

Hiii i love your writing!! Currently keeping me alive 😩 im begging for some angst hurt to comfort. Maybe something involving abby but ultimately a happy ending?

MOVING ON - E.BUCKLEY

buck was finally taking the step to move out of abby’s apartment, except it’s not exactly that easy.

WARNINGS: buck has a minor breakdown oops, minor abby slander, happy ending

buck x fem!reader II hurt/comfort Il 2.3k Il requests open!

a/n: thank you for the request! і love writing angsty stuff

₊ ⊹ masterlist!!

Buck had finally decided that he’d had enough.

He wasn’t going to wait for Abby to come home anymore. He needed to move on. It’d been almost five months since she’d left, and five months of the team trying to convince him she wasn’t coming back.

He’d given up trying to convince them all that their relationship was just ‘unconventional’ by now, and after a particularly lonely Friday night he decided it was time to make a move.

"Can you believe it? After five months? I’m finally moving out of her apartment." Buck lugs a half filled cardboard box over to the dining table, dropping it down with a thud.

“I’m proud’a you,” You tap his shoulder with your hand as an indication for him to move, laughing with a roll of your eyes. “Glad you actually got to this point,”

He makes no resistance to your silent instruction, shifting to lean his back against a clear area of the table and watching as you rifle through the box to properly organise his horrible packing job. "I know you were all sick of me moaning about her. I still can’t believe she just up and left me like that."

“It was definitely a dick move, but if we’re being honest here she didn’t deserve you anyway,” You wave off his unspoken apology for talking your ear off for the last few months with your hand.

“I just thought we were really something you know? Then she up and leaves out of nowhere,” Buck sighs. He was sick of her, he was sick of the fact she’d left him with nothing but a half-arsed explanation and an empty promise of them staying in touch.

But sometimes he can’t help but reminisce on how she used to make him feel and believe that maybe she really was going to come home. “She was supposed to be the one, I can’t believe I was so stupid."

“Unfortunately Buck,” You reach over the table to grab the packing tape, it making a harsh noise as you rip off a piece to tape the - now neatly organised - box. “That how real dating works,”

"No, this wasn’t ‘real’ dating. Real dating doesn’t involve her leaving after she said I could move in, she didn’t even say a real goodbye, I had to find out that she wasn’t coming back from an Instagram post of her kissing some random guy in Thailand." Buck’s voice plainly displayed his emotional exhaustion.

He didn’t want to think about Abby anymore, but it was just so hard to get her out of his head when he really thought that their relationship was going somewhere.

“Head up mister,” You tap your middle and index fingers against the underside of his chin with a sigh. “There’s plenty more fish in the sea,”

Buck laughed exasperatedly. He hated that quote, it always felt so insincere. Then again that was probably because he’s used it so many times in the past when turning down his previous hookups who wanted a more serious relationship.

Now he was on the other end of it, and it just felt ironic.

“You just don’t get it, we were a perfect match for each other,” Buck exhales dramatically, turning his head up to the ceiling. "She was beautiful. She was kind. She was smart. Our sex life was perfect, she was exactly who I was looking for but she left. She just up and left."

“It happens unfortunately,” You shrug your shoulders slightly. “Especially with someone who was dealing with so many personal issues like she was,” You give up on your organising for now as you entertain Buck’s want to get everything off his chest.

“Looks like you finally got a taste of your own medicine hey?” Your attempt at lightening the mood a little is met by a roll of Buck’s eyes and a sigh.

You had a point to an extent, he’d never really dealt with a real breakup before even though he’d been with plenty of other women. "What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Everyone’s gotta experience heartbreak at some point, it’s part of your character development,” You mirror the way he’s leaning against the dining table yourself, pressing your lower back against the wood with your arms crossed.

"I don’t think I needed that character development," Buck sighed once again, "I wish I wasn’t experiencing it right now. I just wish she’d call me or even send me something, anything. Tell me she’s not coming back properly you know?"

He’d probably try to convince her into a long distance relationship if she did call him. But he wasn’t going to tell you that part. He was supposed to be moving on.

“I deleted her number from your phone so… she’s not going to,”

“You did what?” You could hear the immediate hurt in Buck’s tone at your confession, demonstrated further by the way his eyes turned to you in astonishment. “Why would you do that?”

“Because, you are trying to physically move on,” You gesture towards the cardboard boxes that are littered around the apartment containing Buck’s belongings. “But you haven’t mentally moved on, you need both otherwise you’re gonna crash,”

Buck hated that you were right.

You were always right.

You always knew what was best for him when he didn’t even realise what was best for himself.

"I hate that all you do is say the right things at the right time."

“It’s a talent of mine,” You nudge him gently with a smile, again trying to lift up the mood a little.

Sometimes he hated that you were so kind too.

Some twisted part of him wished that you would do something wrong, that you would say the wrong thing and give him an excuse to let out all of his pent up frustration without feeling bad about it afterwards.

But you never did. And he didn’t know whether it was a blessing or a curse.

Then he started thinking about Abby again, of course he did. She was like a parasite that had burrowed a little cavity in his brain and wouldn’t leave no matter how many times he hit himself over the head.

He’d never had a truly vulnerable conversation with her when they were together. Not without the sole focus being on her or her mother’s health. He couldn’t remember a conversation that they’d had that was actually about his problems.

He couldn’t hate her for that. Of course not. She was going through a lot. But it really put into perspective who was the primary giver of their relationship. And it’s starting to make him question whether it was authentic in the first place.

Did she see it as a proper relationship like he did? Or was she using it as a distraction from all of the stress she had looking after her mother all the time?

He didn’t even realise he was tearing up until a drop of water hit the back of his hand.

“Are you alright?” You turned your head towards him after noticing how he’d gone quiet, his head lowered to a point where you couldn’t fully see the expression on his face.

“I don’t know-” His words said one thing, but the way he shook his head said something else. He was very clearly not okay.

“Buck…” You sigh softly at his tone, sounding a little forced as if he was scared of his voice breaking halfway through his sentence.

“Can I have a hug? Please?” He asked his question hesitantly, no longer trying to hide the wavering in his tone. He felt stupid for feeling like this over something that was seemingly so trivial to him in the past, but right now he didn’t feel like doing anything but crying until he physically couldn’t anymore.

He felt even stupider acting like this in front of you of all people. You’d dealt with enough of his baggage already, and he didn’t want to do to you what Abby had done to him in essentially using you as a human diary.

You don’t hesitate in your answer at all. “C’mere,”

You barely even open your arms before the space is filled by Buck, his head hidden against the shoulder of your t-shirt to hide his expression from you.

You lean your weight fully against the edge of the table as you envelop him into a hug, rubbing your hand up and down his back in your best attempt at physically soothing him as he lets out a soft cry into your shoulder.

A fully grown man crying into the arms of someone half his size because he couldn’t handle a breakup. Who would’ve thought?

The longer you held him the less he felt like he had to be embarrassed about it. Somebody had his back, and he didn’t ever want that to end.

“You’re gonna be alright,” The hand that wasn’t gently rubbing soothing lines over his back cupped the back of his neck, holding his head securely against your shoulder.

You knew he was going to break down eventually. You were just glad he had someone present during it.

"Thank you," Buck whispered to you as he began to calm down, "Thank you so much."

Embracing you felt like home, the first time in a long time that he’d felt like he had support. Like he could be himself.

He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to let go, and for the first time in a while he felt as if everything would be okay.

“Don’t mention it,” You make no move to pull away from the hug once he’s calm enough to speak to you again, content to wait until Buck was comfortable enough to pull away in his own time.

He didn’t seem like he was going to let go any time soon.

“Can we just stay like this forever?” Buck’s voice is muffled against your shoulder as he speaks, and he links his arms together behind your waist. “That would be nice,”

You laugh shortly at the question, your shoulders shaking slightly as you do and in turn jostling Buck slightly in your arms. “I think my legs would give out after a while, you’re heavy you know,”

"They’d get stronger eventually," Buck muttered, "We could work out together. I could train you."

Buck was enjoying this more than he wanted to admit but, as usual, his mouth spoke before his brain had a chance to control it. He was just glad that you hadn’t actually pulled away yet.

“You can’t train me to do anything if you won’t let go,”You continue to laugh softly at his proposition as your hand scratches gently at the hairs at nape of his neck.

“You can just hold me then,” He drops the idea almost immediately under the favour of staying securely in your arms.

He’d never hugged any of his friends like this before, although he supposes he’s never actually wanted to. But here he is nonetheless, and it was probably the most comfortable he’d ever been in his life.

He just wanted to stay in the little cocoon your arms provided him away from reality for the rest of his life, maybe longer than that. The only question was whether you’d entertain his idea of abandoning everything productive you were supposed to be doing so that he could satiate his desire to stay exactly where he was.

“Not standing up,” You shake your head against the side of his with a small chuckle. “My legs are already starting to hurt,”

“On the couch then? We can watch that movie you were talking about,”

“We still have packing to finish Buckley,”

“Tomorrow,” Buck shakes his head as he makes a move to separate himself from you, although not fully as his hands still lay carefully positioned on your sides. “I genuinely cannot do any more packing today,”

You raise an eyebrow at him and he tilts his head at you with a sigh. “Come on, humour me here I’m emotionally vulnerable,”

He slips one of his hands towards your wrist and gives it a small tug, his grip loose enough that if you wanted to pull your arm away from him you could do so with minimal effort. You don’t of course, allowing him to tug you forward until you’re not leaning against the table any more, your weight fully supported on your feet. “We can watch that movie, order a pizza and I can wallow in my emotions for a few hours until I’m mentally fit to continue packing,”

“Sounds like you’re just trying to procrastinate,” You furrow your eyebrows accusingly, but the smile on your face betrays your feigned scolding, just grateful that he was sound enough to joke about his own misery now that he’d actually had the chance to vent his emotions.

“Oh I definitely am,” Buck’s smile mirrors yours emphatically, and he starts towards the living room with your wrist in his hand so you’re ‘forced’ to follow him. “I hate packing, it’s boring and everyone always tells me I’m doing it wrong,”

[robinasnyder]

I'm like losing it over this idea, but!

(And I'm sorry to people in the John Constantine tag who just want Constantine. I feel you, and I'm sorry.)

So, in the John Constantine Hellblazer (2019) by Spurrier and Campbell, and in the current John Constantine Hellblazer: Dead in America (2024), there's a pretty huge, big, important plot point where Constantine has died. Like he for real died. His body's dead. His soul is still occupying his dead body. He's still moving around like he's alive, but his body's rotting. (Spoilers for Dead in America from here, btw)

Not to get into the plot too much, but for the 2019 run, there's something Constantine promised his soul to when he dies, and to escape that, he astral projected by having someone stop his heart, with the plan to revive it later. And he does get his soul back in his body, but the body's dead.

As of right now (Dead in America #2) we don't know why exactly this happened.

At the end of 2019, we get this:

Now, mind these panels comes before John realizes he's dead (by like a page or two), but I do straight up love the idea that he's pissed off so many people that no afterlife actually *wants* to take him anymore.

Now, from Dead in America #2, we get this:

Implying that there's something keeping his soul and body going despite the whole being dead thing. I'm assuming that we'll be told eventually, but no idea yet.

All of that to say this: John Constantine is basically possessing his own dead body, atm. So that means he would fall under the Federal Anti-Ecto Control Acts, right???

All I'm saying is that I love the idea of an entire government organization hunting John Constantine. All I'm saying is that I really, really need to see John Constantine being captured and experimented on by the Drs Fenton.

All I'm saying is that Danny would try to get him out, especially if he was trapped in the Fentons' basement. All I'm saying is that this would be such a perfect set up for some interesting darker fic.

The current run is pretty seperated from all other DC stuff. It's basically just Vertigo comics, just Constantine, Sandman, and Swamp Thing. Which means that if we're fully running this idea, then it's not like there's the Justice League or Batman to come fix things. It's just Danny, John Constantine in his own dead body, his son Noah who is mute, doesn't seem to know american sign, and doesn't know he's John’s son, and Nat, John's "bodyguard" with a hair-trigger temper.

So, yes to a Constantine vivisection/disection, yes to Danny having to run from home bc he's just "stolen" a "government resource", and yes to Danny either having to run off without his friends or tell them and drag them on the run too. Also yes to not just having an easy way to solve the government situation (especially bc John and co are also wanted for murder).

I'm just saying that there's never been a better time to write a darker or angsty Constantine and Danny Phantom crossover.

[jjunieworld]

── meet cute `🪄` . ִ ֗ 

pairing: kang taehyun x gn!reader

genre: fluff fluff fluff, strangers to ???, magician!taehyun, some crack ??? idk

synopsis: you had a thought and a dream, you were going to be a magician. so you did what one who wants to be a magician does next, you went to a magic store. and what did you do? accidentally knock over a shelf of bang snaps and came face to face with an actual magician.

word count: 1k┊v-day event masterlist┊masterlist

a/n: part four of my v-day event! cute and short little drabble after that heavy and angsty ass beomgyu oneshot! that episode of academy reincarnation really ignited a light in me. y/n also really reminds me of that one scene of rachel mcadams in the hot chick lmao.. i hope you enjoy! ♡

all your life you only wanted only one thing: to have magical powers. unfortunately, this was the real world. so, you had to do the next best thing—become a magician.

that’s how you ended up in the magic shop out in the outskirts of your town—the star seeker’s magical emporium—wandering up and down the aisles aimlessly. your fingers trailed along the various items. from cliché magical wands to stuff for making things “disappear,” this store had it all.

you were lost in your thoughts, thinking of how you could use all the items you saw when your eyes had caught on a product claiming that it could make you bend metal. in your distracted state, your legs had kept moving and in turn, you ran straight into the display of bang snaps.

the display and open boxes fell to the floor, loud snapping and sparks everywhere. you had jumped back in shock, a loud gasp coming from your lips, when an employee ran over with wide eyes. “oh my god… oh my god, i’m so—so sorry!” you sputtered, turning your attention to the employee.

he was wearing one of those stereotypical magician costumes, the ones with the top hat, cape, and tailored tailcoat. his gloved white hand held a thick, plastic looking wand. his dark hair was styled to the side out of his eyes. if it weren’t for the deep embarrassment and your face heating up, you would remark to yourself on how cute he was.

you got down to the floor as you began trying to clean everything up. “oh, it’s okay! don’t worry about it…” the employee said as he got down to help you. you looked at his name tag. taehyun.

“i completely destroyed the display, oh my god! how much does it all cost?” you asked as the two of you got everything cleaned up. you got to your feet at the same time he did, wiping the palms of your hands on your jeans. taehyun waved a hand in the air, “it’s really no problem! nobody really buys those things anyways except the kids who come in once in a blue moon.”

taehyun waved his plastic wand in the air and you chuckled. “see? abracadabra! now it’s like none of it ever happened!” he gave you a big smile as you returned the favor. “really? thank you so much!” you exclaimed. he rolled back and forth onto his tiptoes for a moment. “is there anything else i can help you with?” taehyun asked.

you hummed for a moment in thought, “no… but you work here! can you show me any magic tricks?” taehyun scoffed playfully, “can i show you any magic tricks… follow me!” he led you back to the counter and made his way behind it as he dug into the cash register.

taehyun pulled out a quarter and held it up in the air to show you. “watch as i make this quarter… disappear!” he beamed as he waved his other hand in front of the quarter. your eyes widened in shock, a smile creeping its way onto your lips as he held both of his hands up in the air. they were both empty.

“let me guess, it’s it your glove?” you said with a smug smile. you had watched hours of magic videos on the internet and knew just about every trick there was. taehyun shook his head, chuckling, “that’s for amateurs, i’m the real deal!”

he reached behind your ear, his hand brushing against the side of your neck and sending a shiver down your spine. you heard a slight “ding!” sound as taehyun pulled his hand back, quarter sitting in it. with raised eyebrows and a smile still on his face, he presented it to you.

smiling, you crossed your arms across your chest. “okay, okay! but i want something cooler!” taehyun’s smile turned to a smirk and he leaned over the counter towards you. “alright… but for this one i’m gonna need your id, please!” you playfully furrowed your eyebrows at him and reached into your bag.

when you got your id out of your wallet, you slid it over to him on the counter and taehyun grabbed it, doing a little spin in the process. you laughed at his display and he smiled at you. “are you ready… y/n?” taehyun asked as he glanced down at your id and you nodded eagerly.

taehyun did a little show of waving his hand in front of your id, making it disappear and reappear. his eyebrows raised slightly as he held it up in front of you, eyes shining, before flicking the card quickly. with wide eyes, you held your hand over your mouth as your id turned into a small white card you didn’t see him grab.

he slid the card across to you on the counter, then waved his hand over it so your id was next to it. taehyun gave you a shy smile. you grabbed the white card from the counter and turned it over. it had his name and number written on it. grinning from ear to ear you looked back up at him.

“let me take you to dinner sometime? i can show you way better magic tricks than this… the store kind of limits me,” taehyun asked, looking away from your eyes briefly. you giggled and nodded at his proposal. “are you free tonight?” you asked him, placing the two cards back in your wallet.

taehyun chuckled and nodded, scratching the back of his head and making his top hat fall into his eyes ever so slightly. “i am, it’s a date! i’ll see you tonight!”

© jjunieworld - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

permanent taglist: @jjunberry @gothgyuu @spooksh0wbabe @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @rapmonie2047 @riaawr

v-day event masterlist┊masterlist┊request rules

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

got any silly voxval headcannons? (Maybe velvette too idk)

like for example who cooks out of the three of them

Of course you can <3 I'm a really angsty girlie so I don't know how silly they actually are but there you go:

None of them can cook, but that's not really a problem for Vox and Velvette. Vox could survive on plain bread and black coffee for eternity, while Velvette could eat only candies. Val, on the other hand, is the ultimate hedonist. He's all about the tasty, full-fat fast food or gourmet stuff, and he's always pushing for takeout. Come on, guys, we're fucking rich, let's order something. Sure, they could hire someone to cook for them, but Vox is too paranoid to let an outsider near their food. He's still on the hunt for a chef who can match Val's extravagant tastes and is willing to sign off soul. If they had to pick someone to cook, Vox would probably be the best bet since he's the only one who can actually follow a recipe.

Velvette is the smartest when it comes to managing finances. Vox technically doesn't like to waste money but he has a taste for luxurious stuff, he can't resist an expensive car, fucking show-off. Valentino basically burns money on every useless shit he likes, I bet those crystals he badazzled his gun with were real diamons.

Velvette helps Val maintain his fluff, and he styles her hair. It's a cute little trade-off they've got going on.

Valentino has a habit of breaking electronic devices and downloading malware. Vox hates him for it.

Vox can easily go 72h without sleep, fueled by coke and rage. Valentino occasionally drugs his coffee to put him down to sleep, because after 68th hour all electronics in the tower starts malfunctioning.

Val used to be a full-time performer, but now he's more like a RuPaul—lending his face to the brand and only occasionally gracing the stage. But every time he does perform, Vox makes sure to be there front and center.

Their schedules are very incompatible and they have to spend a lot of time managing their businesses but they have weekly appointments to do catch up and discuss strategy. Those are usually very unserious, they end up hitting the bong and playing Mario Cart.

There was this one time Vox tried hitting on Velvette because she's totally his type. It was awkward as hell, and they both agreed to never speak of it again. Valentino has no idea about it.

Valentino would really want to have a dog but Vox really likes dogs so he doesn't allow him to get one by imposing strict anti-pet policy in the tower.

Val knows all of Vox's and Velvette's kinks and sometimes produces custom porn for them as gifts.

As much as they love spending time together, Val and Velvette can't stand watching TV with Vox because he gets overly emotional and doesn't allow to skip commercials because he enjoys them

Vox occasionally invites Val to be a guest judge on reality shows, which always skyrockets ratings but sometimes ends nasty for the contestants.

Val's obsessed with textures, especially nice fabrics. Give him a nice fluffy blanket and he will shut up for 15 minutes fixated on touching it.

Vox, with his business and strategic management degree, sometimes tries to pitch these ideas to Velvette and Valentino, he's like Guys, have you considered using the BCG matrix? Ever heard of SWOT analysis? We should discuss KPIs. They mock him relentlessly for it.

Val once tried putting drag makeup on Vox's face, and let's just say the result was... less than glamorous.

During their honeymoon phase, Vox and Val fucked everywhere. At first, Velvette found it amusing, but eventually, she grew to hate it. She finally snapped when she found out they'd fucked on the dinner table and she set it on fire.

Val "secretly" ghostwrote some trashy smut novels (they are absolutely horrible, worst Wattpad shit you could dig out). Vox secretly bought and read every single one, finding plenty of references to himself along the way.

Vox loves it when Val wears stripper platforms, even though it makes their height difference even more ridiculous.

Valentino's wardrobe takes two entire rooms and still expands. Vox doesn't know how to stop it.

Vox owns a few lingerie sets, only because Val loses his fucking mind whenever he wears them. Velvette designed them herself and keeps photos of Vox wearing them as blackmail material, just in case.

[ovaryacted]

Well let me send some soft!Leon.

Leon is the type of guy to be like “I may have gotten bitten by zombies and thrown against walls but like. That’s still better than period cramps.”

If he’s not away on a mission, I imagine he’d want to just lay in bed with you all day. He gives good snuggles. Gets tea and the heating pad.

But also, I had the hilarious imagine of Leon being real fucking clueless with the emotions of it. You know the meme of the girl over the toilet being pat on the back by a broom? That’s Leon. He’s like “there there” while keeping 10ft away from you.

Unironically if you run out of pads/tampons he probably texts you “what size coochie you wear?” Or whatever. But! If you tell him, that’s the only time you need to because he remembers.

Also, not embarrassed about getting period products. I mean, this guy is built like a house, and attractive as fuck everyone knows he’s picking stuff up for his lady. Probably getting head too let’s be honest.

He also picks up your face snack.

-angsty anon (I guess not angsty this time lol)

EEEEEEK thank you for sending this angsty (not so angsty) anon cause I actually feel like shit at work but this was so cute. Also I know the memes you’re talking about they’re deep in my gallery I can’t find them right now lmao. But yeah let me cook and self indulge cause I can. (And cause the cramps are starting to ramp up).

Disclaimer: I know everyone’s period cycle is different, this is not a one size fits all. I’m speaking generally, mostly about myself but yeah if it doesn’t apply let it fly and that’s okay! Leon would still be a good partner and meet your needs either way. 🫶

Leon to me is the type of guy that would provide comfort and humor whenever you need it and without you having to ask for it. He just cares, that’s all he does really. But of course, he’s aware that when your cycle hits, he has to be more aware of your emotions and what you need. He’s very in tune when it comes to tending to you, but he isn’t afraid to ask so he can give you exactly what you want.

If he isn’t at home, he’d probably have your cycle tracked on his phone so he knows when to send you a gift package or flowers just so you know he’s around. If he’s going on mission, he’d send those things in advance, and when he comes back home he’d bring your favorite food and snacks as a welcome present.

But when he is home and he knows your period is about to kickstart, he instantly goes into house husband mode. He knows the first few days are the toughest and it gets easier over time, but sometimes all you want to do is just stay curled up in bed and sleep the pain off. He’d be right there beside you, giving you tea and pain medication if you ask for it, making sure you have water nearby and a heating pad to help with your comfort. Clothing wise, he gives you his clothes, ones you already stole from him anyway, finding his boxers much more comfortable than the panties you have, and a baggy t-shirt that smells like him to ease your nerves.

He handles the chores in your living space, cleans the place up and does the laundry, plus he gets groceries and cooks if that’s what you request. When he does go out to do the shopping, he asks you what snacks you want, already having some in mind but double checks if you want something specific. It doesn’t matter how ridiculous your cravings are, he’ll give them to you without judgement. You can eat all the junk and sugar you want, so long as it helps with your mood he’ll get it. Or if you want fruits and things that are a bit easier to eat considering your nausea, he’ll get that too.

He buys your feminine products without shame, gets irritated about how expensive they are “because they should be free” according to him, and gets you an extra box for you to have in advance. There may be other people in the section watching him as he finds the exact brand and size you use, not that he cares if he’s being watched, and he can hear your voice in his head talking about it.

Get the all cotton ones with wings, medium-sized. The thicker ones are for overnight, so get me a pack too. Do not get the ones that say light flow or small, those don’t do shit!

Your emotions are all over the place, more sensitive and easily irritable by anything and everything. At times it scares him how fast your mood can change, but he doesn’t judge you for it, you can’t help the way your body behaves. He doesn’t hover over you, comes by to check in, see if you feel any better. If you ask him to cuddle with you, he’ll do that no questions asked, but if you don’t want to be touched, he’ll leave you alone and let you rest. It’s not personal to him, he gets it, somewhat at least. He’ll send you cute text messages with those silly emoticons from the living room, or send you a funny video he saw on social media (it didn’t make you laugh but it’s the thought that counts).

The mental aspects of your cycle can be debilitating at times, and it’ll make you second guess things that shouldn’t be in your head. Leon knows what that’s like, and he’s there for you to talk to if you need it. He’s ready with affirmations, soft words, and constantly tells you that he adores you and loves you. Shit that makes your heart warm and your mind shut up, he just supports you in whatever you need.

Now as for the secret period horniness that sometimes likes to sneak up on you, he’s also willing to provide. It doesn’t happen often, but he knows when it does. When you’re snuggled up into him and start shifting your hips against him, or when your breathing gets a bit shaky the moment his hands come up towards your thighs. He’s on your time, whatever you say goes, and he only does things if you ask for them. So if you say you want to be touched he’ll do it, he’ll caress you and massage your chest to ease the soreness you feel there. If you want to suck him off to appease to your oral fixation, he’ll let you, and happily keep your hair up and praise you along the way. And if you tell him you want to have sex with him, he’ll bring out the towels or propose a shower, whatever you decide he’s fine with. It doesn’t bother him, he’s seen so much blood and gore that this is the last of his concerns. Plus, orgasms help with period cramps so whatever helps you, he’ll do it.

Whatever you need, he’s willing to provide. Thats just the type of man and partner he is.

I need him. Im fucking sad.

[poisonedprose]

hii, saw you wanted asks for simon <3 could you maybe write something where the reader is a civilian and misses simon but cannot contact him. she has a horrible day everything goes wrong. (to the point where she doesn’t even notice his car in the driveway when she gets home). she’s overwhelmed, and it’s filled with fluff (and smut if you want!!)

₊˚✧ i miss you, i’m sorry — in which simon returns after being away for so long

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

warnings: 2k words, smut, fluff, a lil angsty curse words, porn with plot, unprotected sex, p in v, degrading, pet names (lovie), hand job, borderline obsessed!reader, borderline toxic!ghost

masterlists

Watching Simon come and go became a routine for you. There was never an explanation, maybe he thought you didn't deserve one, or maybe there wasn’t time. He would leave for days, weeks, months at a time, always prefacing it with "I'll be back soon." The first few times you tried to call him, aching to hear his voice after long days but you were always met with the robotic woman telling you the call could not be completed. 

You learned quickly there was no way to contact him during these mysterious vanishings. You theorized where Simon went late at night. Thinking he was a secret spy, or maybe he had a secret family. You hoped it wasn't the latter. As you lay on your back, blankets askew on your rather uncomfortable mattress, thoughts of Simon flood your brain, you wondered if Simon was doing the same.  

You wondered if for each thought of him, he had a thought for you. When you thought of his hands on your waist did he think of your lips on his neck? As much as your conclusion pained you to think about, you can’t help but dream of him. Of his husky voice whispering teases and playful remarks into your ear. You had fallen hard, and you weren’t getting up anytime soon.

You knew this was a one-way ticket to disaster. He could never be what you need and deep down you both knew that. It didn’t stop you though, you didn’t think anything could stop you. You didn’t even know if he returned the intoxicating feelings you had for him. To him, you could just be the other woman, and part of you didn’t mind.

There was something about him that was so addicting. Was it his smile? Or his cologne? Or maybe it was his eyes that you loved looking into. You wondered if you had any features that he could obsess over. It’s strange, to have such strong feelings for someone you barely know. 

Your shoulders hung low, your feet dragged on the ground, and your eyes were strained. You were tired, your nights that were supposed to be filled with sleep were only filled with fantasies. You turned your key in the door, turning it the wrong way at first, even though you could’ve sworn it was the right way. It took everything in you not to become upset. It amazed you how much power Simon had over your life when he wasn’t even around.

After taking a deep breath, you finally were able to unlock the door. You stepped inside, throwing your stuff onto a random side table that you got from a garage sale 3 years ago that you should really organize. You kick your shoes off, not bothering to place them into their spot, just leaving them in front of the door. You don’t even notice the second pair of shoes that are too big to be yours.

You walk further into the house, trying to make it to any surface to lie on, but instead of finding a couch or a bed, you find Simon standing with a cup of coffee in his hand. You're almost sure you’re hallucinating. “Miss me?” You don’t know what to do, should you hug him? Yell at him for drinking your coffee? Not even acknowledge him at all and just go to bed? 

“Simon?” Your voice was quiet, afraid that if you were hallucinating, you didn’t want the neighbors to hear you talking to yourself. “Hey,” He matched your volume, then took another sip from the mug. Still, you didn’t move, you were sure he was real now but now the question was, how should you greet him? He took the final sip of coffee and then placed the mug on the coffee table. 

“Aren’t you going to give me a hug?” He doesn’t look at you as he asks, and it almost sounds like he’s teasing you. He probably is, but you didn’t care. You walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He chucked softly before returning the hug, only draping one arm around, being the other one up to pat your head. 

You didn’t move from this position, though neither of you really mind it. The sun was starting to set but still, neither of you really mind it. You didn’t know what to say to him. You wanted to ask where he was, where he went for so long. But you knew you would only be answered with, “You know I can’t tell you.”

You did know, but you were still curious. “Where were you?” You whispered. “You know I can’t-” “I know.” You cut him off, sighing softly. He pats your head again, trying to apologize for not being able to tell you. Maybe one day he could, but for now you just basked in the moment of feeling his arms around you once again.

“You tired?” Was it that obvious? “A little.” He nodded even though you weren’t looking at him. “Are you going to fall asleep standin’ up?” He laughs, his chest rumbling, making you feel safe in his arms. “Maybe.” He shook his head, moving both of his hands to your butt before picking you up. You wrapped your legs around his torso, moving your head off his chest and finally looking him in the eyes. 

You didn’t know if his feelings for you were gone after being away, or if they were ever there. He doesn’t say anything as you examine his face. ‘It’s definitely his eyes.’ You think, answering your own question from nights ago. You don’t think as you push your lips against his. You missed him far too much to not kiss him. 

To your satisfaction, he kisses back, almost more eagerly than you. You smile, happiness warming your body, or maybe that was from Simon’s body being pressed so closely to yours. You pulled away from the kiss, going back to examine his face, mostly his eyes. “I missed you.” You whispered, biting your lip after the practically deafening sentence.

“I bet you did.” Again he matches your volume, and too prideful to admit he missed you too, but you know. You can see it in his eyes, and feel it in his words. You press your lips to his again, more eagerly, more passionately. 

He returns the kiss once again, pushing your body closer to his. One of his hands slide from your ass, up your back, and land on the back of your neck. He squeezes it gently and suddenly you’re aware of how much you missed his subtle touches. 

He walks forward, sitting on the couch and you’re quick to fix your position to straddle him. His hands move to your waist, rubbing small circles as you disconnect from the kiss and begin leaving small kisses on his neck. Your tinted lip balm staining his skin ever so slightly. 

He sighs contently, loving the feeling of your soft lips on his neck. His hands slide under your shirt, his warm hands on your bare back. Maybe you didn’t know where or why he disappeared and left you high and dry for long periods of time, but it didn’t matter. He always made up for it by treating your body heavenly.

Without moving your lips away from his neck you lead a blind hand to his pants, fiddling with the zipper trying to undo them. “Someone’s eager.” Simon chuckles. He moves his hand towards his zipper, helping you pull it down when he notices you struggling, confirming he wants it just as badly as you do.

“Couldn’t stop thinking of you when you were gone.” You admit shamelessly, as he unbuttons his pants. You pull his boxers away from his skin, pulling out his semi-hard cock. You jerked him slowly as you left marks on his neck. He was enjoying how eager you were. It was sensual, you missed him so much, how could you not be?

"Is that so?" He whispered in your ear. His voice was raspy, it always was when he returned, raspier than usual at least. He was teasing you, finding pleasure and amusement in your admission. Had his lack of presence really had that much of an impact on you? The tiredness from your long day was easily being replaced with need. How long had it been this time? 3 months? 4 months? You lost count.

"Don't start that." Your lips tickle his neck with each word. You couldn't be bothered with his games, not this time. Not when you spent months awaiting his arrival. He was always different after each coming and going. It was always a slight change, but you never failed to notice it, no matter how hard you tried. 

"Don't start what?" He smiled at you with a cocky grin displayed on his face. Your eyes gloss over his face, he had a new scar on his lip. You brushed your thumb over it. "How do you always get so many of these?" It was rhetorical. You knew he wouldn't tell you. He was covered in scars, each one having a story to be told, but Simon never did. He took your hand in his, lowering it from his face. "Don't start what, huh?" He was deflecting, per usual.

"Your games." He lets go of your hand, returning it to its place under your shirt. Your free hand was still jerking him, slowly but pleasurably. "I'm not playing games." He was. He always was. "I'm just teasin' ya, lovie. No games, just fun." Games, fun, really they were both the same.

He laughs lowly, lowering his head to kiss your shirt-covered shoulder. One of his hands slides down your body, stopping when he reaches the end of your shorts. He moves your panties to the side, two of his fingers sliding through your folds. 

“So wet f’r me, yeah?” He whispers in your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Did you miss me like this the whole time?” You roll your eyes at his cockiness, despite him being right. “Maybe.” You answered. “Maybe?” He questioned. “If you’re allowed to keep secrets so am I.” He laughs again, kissing your shoulder once more. “Fair enough.”

He takes your hand off his cock that’s painfully hard by now. He needs you too badly to enjoy the foreplay any longer. He tugs your shorts down roughly, too eager to pull off your underwear. He shoves your panties to the side before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in.

You pushed your body against his, biting your lip to quiet your moans. “Missed this tight pussy.” He groans. His hands stray to your ass cheeks, squeezing each of them with his firm hands. 

It’s pathetic how eager both of you are. Both pent up, frustrated, perhaps for different reasons. The way your bodies are pressed together is a sin. Barely any clothes have been taken off, so why do you feel so dirty? 

Maybe it was because of how deep his cock was buried in you. Or how hard your fingernails were pressing into his biceps. It could be both, it’s definitely both. If passion is a sin then so be it. He was always so good to you. Fucking you until you were crying, asking if you could give him just one more. 

You moaned his name, with each thrust. Giving up on trying to be quiet. He preferred when you were loud anyway. “Yeah? Moanin’ my name like a slut?” His words were harsh but his soft kisses on your temple were all the reassurance you needed. 

“Your slut.” The words slide off your tongue before you have a chance to think about them. His hips stutter when he hears what you said, holding back a throaty moan. “My slut, eh? At least you know it.” He rasps out, a smile mixed with cockiness and something you can’t decipher strung on his face. “My fuckin’ slut.” 

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[kazumist]

EPISODE 14 ♡ I LOVE YOU TO THE BONE

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL — A SCARAMOUCHE SMAU

masterlist / prev ep / next ep / angsty stuff ahead!

cw: drinking, alcohol, a few profanities here and there. wc: 1023.

“so?”

kazuha settles down at the table where his miserable and dear friend is brooding. “i just don't get it," his friend says.

“i’m right here, kazuha.” 

“how's your heart at this point?” kazuha asks him. “same old. would it be cheesy to say broken?”

“if that's the best term you think would describe it, then no, it isn't cheesy.”

kunikuzushi pours himself another shot and takes it down in one gulp. he isn't going to last anytime soon, kazuha thinks. “you know what the funny part is? even if i want or try to get mad at them for being selfish, i just can't. i can't do it, kazuha.”

“what am i if not theirs?”

and just in time, “the man who can't be moved” by the script started playing. how perfect for kunikuzushi’s situation.

“a huge and miserable idiot, that's what you are," kazuha replies, pouring himself a shot as well. kunikuzushi lets out a weak laugh at his response, “well, i can't certainly deny that.”

“it's okay to be selfish every once in a while, kuni. you should raise your pride higher again.” 

“i’d rather lose my pride than lose them in my life.”

“you're really stubborn; did you know that?” oh, he knew that very well. 

“you know, if the pain is starting to become more heavy than the joy, then you should let go. you're always the miserable one, kuni. the fact that you're already hesitating already says a lot about what your mind is trying to tell you.”

when those words left kazuha’s lips, kunikuzushi thought it was a nice idea to drink four consecutive shots. “i’m not taking care of you if you get drunk, idiot.”

“just take me home after.” another shot.

not too long after that, kunikuzushi was drunk.

-

when you got a text from kazuha saying that he had a gift for you, you didn't expect to see a drunk and sobbing kunikuzushi by your doorstep.

you wanted to see kunikuzushi, sure, but not in this state. definitely not in the state where he's continuously apologizing for not being enough for you to stay.

“love, come home to me. let's go home.” 

you felt like crying too, because, as much as you also wanted to go home with him, you couldn't even dare step a foot inside the front porch to kuni’s heart.

“fuck you, kazuha.” you cursed at him.

“take care of him, (name); after all, you made him get into this state.”

“kazuha, who are you talking to?” kuni asks.

“that's lyney, kuni.”

before kunikuzushi could even curse at him, kazuha already left and started up his car again. and now you were left with a drunk kuni thinking you were lyney.

“let's get you to bed, kuni.”

“fuck you, lyney. if you hadn't given them heizou’s contact, then this wouldn't have happened. i would've been the one who was with them by that tree.”

you were stunned. you didn't know he saw you two back then.

“lyney, just tell heizou to take care of them," he says again, completely convinced that he was talking to his friend and not his ex.

“tell him that they're not really a big fan of chocolates or flowers, and that they prefer quality time and physical affection over gifts. tell him that they get cold easily, that they're not a huge fan of horror, and that they're prone to sickness if their health isn't maintained.”

“just tell him to take care of them, yeah? because i won't be the one who's going to do those things anymore.”

you managed to pull kunikuzushi into your room, but you still didn't say a word. you wanted to hear what else he had to say.

“you know, i kinda wish those alternative universes were real,” he started again. “because maybe, in another universe, we would've gotten our happy ending.” you couldn't help but let the tears sting.

“it hurts, lyney. and it's unfair. whenever i feel down, if i just see them okay, then i’ll also be alright. if i had to choose where i’d go home, i would always choose to go home to them. i’m getting tired already. is this still leading anywhere?”

“why can't they just let me love them? why do they have to run away? what are they so afraid of? i know i have my own flaws too, lyney, but i’ll be willing to catch them if anything goes wrong with us.”

you finally decided to speak up. “pretend that you're talking to (name) right now; what would you say?”

“(name)?” he repeats.

“i love you, (name). i know you'd never say it back, but i love you all the same. i love you even if you push me away. i love you even if you become too much to handle. i love you even if i’m not sure if you'll ever love me back again. i love you to the bone, (name). maybe i'm still seeking something we could never have again, or maybe i’m still choosing to give you the love that you won't ever accept, but even so, i love you," he says, a sob coming in every now and then.

“in another life, i’d be your lover, and i hope you'd be mine too, even if it's not in this life if you're not ready yet. i love you so fucking much.”

“and i just want you to love me back.”

“but i’m getting tired, (name). i’m sorry if my love wasn't enough to make you stay, but now that you're happy with someone else, i have no choice but to be happy for you. he’ll get to do the things i wanted to do with you, and you'll be happy with him, and i’ll watch. because i have no other choice.”

“i love you, (name), but i can't do this anymore.”

with tear-stained cheeks, kunikuzushi fell asleep on your bed. giving him one last kiss on the forehead, you pulled the covers on him. and you cried yourself to sleep on the sofa soon after.

“i’m sorry, kuni. i’m here. i’ll come home to you now.”

extra notes.

yeah so that happened. crazy ikr haha

i told u all things were gna get messy

link to the smau playlist is here !! would reco to listen while reading

taglist (open): @yinyinggie @blue-b3rries @ryuryuryuyurboat @your-local-reblogging-kazoo @lilikags @haliyamori @diorlumx @mamafly @zuunotsane @iloveosamuu @featuredtofu @kana-de@xiaoderrrr @f1orent1ne @alhaitie @yelleloww @brain-r0tt @jamieexistss @danfelions @e0nssadrift @lovemari @kunikissr @chluuvr @lazy-sanns @lxkeeeee @swivy123 @sketcheeee @quacking-simp @tiredslepz @vxcmx @kichiy0shi @yingofthemoon @feiherp @sicut-sol @mayuumine @xiaosoneandonly @xtobefreex @bananasquash @im-the-ruler-here @hiraethhv @yumiaur @oughhhhmamamia @beriiov @cindywasneverhere @klanxii @fangygf @draclula @aromaticism @shotosjupiter @lyzisbitchingagain @lovelykrystal @riraaya @aether-darling @kochothehoe

[lightlycareless]

Okay but.. what if Satoru is her ex and now she is with Naoya because she was cheated on👉👈

IS THIS FOR THE HIGHSCHOOL AU? CAUSE IF IT IS I LOVE YOU AND THANK YOU FOR FEEDING MY ADDICTION.

Anyways, this add a whole new layer of complexity to Y/N and Naoya's relationship. I was toying with the idea of Y/N already having a boyfriend, or more like a crush, but tHIS omg....

So I rewrote this like 3-4 times, and at first I was like I don’t want to be angsty, but then I thought well, if Y/N was cheated on then it can’t be anything but angsty, because it’s a huge breach of trust, you know?

And thus, everything else occurred. I think I might've gotten carried away and I'm not sure if this is what you wanted.... but hey, it's what came to me :') I hope you like it nonetheless!

warnings: mentions of cheating, people being jerks, insecurities, that kind of stuff. it's sad at first, but I like to think it gets sweet at the end.

Let’s set up the bases: the one that would take the first step in terms of seeking a relationship with the other would be Naoya—since cheating was involved, Satoru is/must’ve been a jerk (well, he is known for being insufferable, but still)

Once that’s set…

The first time you stepped into Naoya’s life would be through the sprouting rumors of Satoru’s “love life.”

Nothing that he’d be able to keep a secret due to his popularity, if anything many thought it was surprising this hadn’t come out far earlier, but now that it was out, many of his “admirers” could do nothing but gossip about it. Amongst them, Naoya.

Naoya wasn’t necessarily the same type of admirer as the others—not… that infatuated. But he still wanted to be around him, since he considered Satoru to be on the same level as him, the same… social circle, per say. And because he thought himself to be somewhat remotely similar, he also needed to keep up with whatever he did.

So, when he heard that he used to a have a girlfriend, it was… well, shocking to say the least. And not because anyone thought he couldn’t get a partner, of course not, but rather, because he actually settled down for once.

And because that meant Satoru had gotten a girlfriend first before him, and that was… upsetting, to say the least.

But pushing that aside, he quickly became determined in finding out who was the “lucky” girl that managed to capture Satoru’s attention, enough for him to consider her for a formal relationship, and of course, why it ended.

Because of Satoru’s reputation, and the fact that he was single yet again, many began to assume that the reason why they broke up was because she didn’t “satisfy” him adequately.

That she was probably “boring” or couldn’t comply with his “extravagant” lifestyle. The girls sure were having the time of their life imagining how they’d be better suited for him, essentially allowing him a life of debauchery, while the boys were more inclined into meeting the one that managed to “catch” him.

Thus, Naoya’s search for Satoru’s ex-girlfriend begins.

He has a notion, something to begin with: for sure pretty, because let’s be real, Naoya doesn’t know anyone that would date someone they didn’t consider absolutely stunning. She just must be.

From there, someone that matches his prestige, meaning, rich; unless he decided to go a completely different route and choose someone a bit more… humble, but he doesn’t think so. Naoya knows how the game goes, old money must be preserved, and others outside of that social circle tended to not blend in, so he doesn’t believe Satoru would’ve bothered.

But anyways, Naoya would find soon enough; all that he needed to do is ask around, maybe even nag Satoru a bit so he’d tell himself… to confirm the horrible image she had thanks to the sour opinions’ others began to have of his ex-girlfriend, Naoya intending to do the same once uncovering her identity…

Until he finally saw her.

She’d been right under his nose all this time, a somewhat quiet yet giddy girl from another class, one year younger than him, who’d occasionally be teased by his seniors for the sole reason of being “overprotected” by her siblings, also students at the school, or were anyway, one of them already graduated.

A girl named Y/N, whom upon getting a better look at her… found her to be incredibly cute.

And the vivid contrast of what he believed.

He couldn’t believe it.

Naoya truly couldn’t believe his eyes. He always thought that if Satoru had broken up with her was because she… well, because she was a bit mundane, right? That had to be. There was no synergy, no good reason for him to stick around…

But the reality had been so much different. You—you were someone that he could only consider captivating given the way he couldn’t get his eyes off you. And because he always considered himself to be somewhat in Satoru’s level, meaning that they’d have similar tastes and what not… 

Naoya couldn’t fathom why he’d ever leave you.

For what little he’d seen of you, Naoya could easily disclose you were someone alluring.

So, Naoya decides to go forward with his plan, in the sense of approaching you to get to know you better. However, with a small change: not to divulge on you negatively, but rather, because he genuinely wants to do so…

And the surprise he receives is far bigger than he could’ve ever imagined; he hoped to find (yet again) something that would make you unlikeable, something to justify Satoru’s decision, maybe an annoying mannerism, a nasty habit, or just— anything, really.

But all that he finds… is things that pull him further and further into you. And soon, not only did he find you likeable, but also, wishing for something more… intimate between the two.

Starting by wanting to spend most, if not all, of his time with you. Getting to hear your voice talking about no particular topic—and it didn’t matter how, either. It could be a phone call, or in person—he just wanted to be the focus of your attention.

Or getting to see your face too. To see so first thing in the morning, or last thing at night, sounds amazing to him. Seek you out at soon as his classes are done, eat lunch together, (maybe even let you feed him? No, at least not in public) or do homework together. Since he’s already taken your classes, he’s more than happy to help you out, if it meant you’d praise him as sweetly as you’ve always done.

The thought is enough to make him blush—and with this, it’s clear that Naoya wants you to be his, and solely his.

Even if his skepticism about Satoru and his decision to dump you went on, it didn’t matter.

You were incredible, you are incredible. The girl of his dreams…. And if Satoru couldn’t see that, then he was a fool!

It was set then, he’d make you his girlfriend, treat you like no other has, and the two will be happy together, hopefully forever!

Or so… that’s what he wished would happen. Because his plans would only come to a screeching halt when you’d reject his sentiments, with a saddened face that more than portraying sorrow, displayed disappointment, gently shaking your head as you murmur.

“I’m sorry, but… I can’t”

And so, that’s how Naoya’s dreams would come to cease, with an abrupt rejection that left him hollow, voice of a heart, as he saw you further and further walking away from him, until you were no longer there, absent for the coming days.

But even when he was given more than enough reason to no longer seek you, Naoya couldn’t keep his mind off you. And every second of the day, whether at school or at home, all that he kept wondering was why you’d rejected him.

Why had you taken such a decision, and without even looking like you were considering it?

Had it been something he’d done? Did someone tell you something unsavory about him? If that’s the case, he can fix that. He can easily explain whatever it was, deal with whoever had done such a thing, so you’d talk to him again!

But… more than devastated by your rejection, he was deeply, incredibly infuriated.

Because rejection wasn’t something that Naoya took easily. For someone as egocentric as him, this was not something he could ever overcome as an unfortunate but common occurrence and just move on.

And with the previous notions he had of you through Satoru’s “friends” … those sentiments just grew bigger and bigger.

Thus, it wouldn’t take long before he approached you once more, but this time, with intentions of demanding to know why you had rejected him in the first place—all with a look on his face that made you flinch, never thinking him capable of such… harsh reaction.

But even after being suitably spooked, and consistently insisted on by Naoya, you eventually respond, at least with what you could muster so as to not appear any more vulnerable with him.

“Because I don’t want to.” You murmur, looking down to the floor. Naoya frowns.

“There must be a reason. There must be an actual reason as to why you don’t want to—it can’t be just because of that.”

“It is.” You reiterate. “That’s all.”

“I don’t believe it.” He insists. “You always have something to say! Now you’re telling me you don’t?”

You frown, if his actions weren’t hurtful enough, his words now offended you.

“If you’re going to keep making fun of me, you can leave”

“Keep?” he asks. “What do you mean keep? If anything, you’d be the one making fun of me!”

“Don’t act like you don’t know… it’s the whole reason why you’re here, isn’t?” you say, now looking up to him and revealing the now sorrowful look of your reddening, watery eyes. Naoya is slightly taken aback by the sight, his heart slightly twinging with pain. “To make a fool of me again, right?”

“Where did you even get that ide—"

“Just answer one question—just one” You interrupt, voice trembling before swallowing, as if to ease the nerves growing inside you. “Are you friends with Satoru?”

He blinks, taken aback by your query, but he does not answer.

“Answer me, Naoya!” You challenged “Do you get along with him, yes or no?!”

…

…

…

“Yes.”

“I fucking knew it.” You breathe, clenching your hands. “I knew it—I knew it.”

“What are you—”

“Drop the act, Naoya! I’ve seen right through you!”

“What act? What are you—what are you even talking about, Y/N?”

“What all his friends do!” you gasp. “What they’ve been doing the moment they found out I used to date Satoru!”

“What do they… do…?” Naoya murmurs slowly. “What does that even have to do with my feelings for—”

“It has to do everything.” You gasp. “It has to do with everything!”

You thought you’d be able to get away from the horrible experience your rupture with Satoru had brought you; those nasty, dark sentiments that completely engulfed your heart, leaving you nothing but a shell of the person you were, if not worse.

All because Satoru had committed the worst transgression he could’ve done at that moment, something so horrible and painful for someone as young and naïve as you:

He cheated on you.

When it happened, it felt as if your heart was being pierced with a thousand needles, twisted and pulled apart, before breaking up in a thousand pieces, settling in your chest to constantly inundate your mind, before drowning your voice with nothing but cries and tears.

And no matter how much you tried to move past this painful incident, think about anything else, your mind always brought you back to the horrible sight of Satoru being in the arms of someone else—and each time it just hurt worse.

Because after all was said and done, you truly cared for him. Far than just care for him, genuinely thought him to be your… other half, the love of your life. The man you’d end up marrying in the future!

Could you be blamed? He was your first serious relationship, and he had been the one to make a move at first… believing it was the start of your own love story, just as you’ve seen repeated over and over in the world around you.

But it wasn’t, and now, you’re here, left behind, in solitude, to pick up the pieces of your broken heart.

Your family would try to comfort you by telling you that this was just a one-time incident, that it was not your fault as you began to believe, that this was his decision, his fault, and that there was nothing wrong with you. Nothing at all.

Reaffirming that love still exists, even though it seemed almost impossible to think of at that moment, because after all, you had your mom and dad as an example—and most importantly, that pain will pass, you just have to give it time.

And perhaps because they insisted so much, or because you were always the hopeless romantic, you ended up trying your best to move on to a new day, think that the future had something better planned for you, that this was only a small stumble on the way, nothing more…

So, you began. One day at a time, surrounding yourself with your friends and family, people that had your wellbeing in mind; And it seemed to work, you began to feel a bit better, start expecting a better outcome for the coming days…

Until you met someone that began to show interest in you, far more than just a friend that is, and seemed to demonstrate so with his actions. He was charming, to say the least, funny, got along with everyone else, but was also very attentive to you, always making you feel special.

You didn’t want to think much of it at first, the scars in your heart reminding you to do so… but your poor heart began to think that maybe your parents were right in saying that “someone better always comes along.” That first comes the storm, and then… peace.

At last, it was finally your turn. It was finally the moment to meet the love of your life, the one that would make the rest of your days whole, and stop feeling lonely, as you’ve always felt.

Only to be proved wrong when you went on searching through his phone by accident after hearing it ring and ring, and he was away.

You thought it an emergency, the only reason why you’d ever do such thing… but the moment you did, you damned ever considering it such, for why he was being pestered over the phone wasn’t because his family needed him, or maybe some overdue project his teammates desperately needed to finish—it’s because he was disclosing all that he was doing with you with someone else, with a group… and making fun of it.

No—not making fun of the things he was doing.

Making fun of you.

Of the apparently silly ways you’d react, the stupid things you liked—but most importantly, wondering why Satoru ever considered you to be his girlfriend, when it was obvious with this past evidence, that you were nothing of the like. If anything, you got cheated on because you deserved it.

Because a boring girl like you probably deserved it.

And this shattered whatever was left of your poor heart, further secluding yourself from those outside of your social circle, quick to interject anyone that you’d sense had other intentions with you, hoping to save yourself from the pain—

Until Naoya came along.

There was something about him that immediately caught your attention, something you’ve never felt before, not even those jerks that attempted to befriend you—maybe it was his unusual hair color, the cool piercings on his ear, or simply because you found him handsome—that you couldn’t keep your eyes off him for too long. A fascination that worsened when you began to know him.

At first you thought he approached you because he noticed you staring at him, which caused you to be very, very tense when he began walking over to you; but thankfully, it didn’t seem to be nothing of the like, instead, he apparently just wanted you to help him move something from the nearby classroom onto another, and any other things that might pop up on the way.

It was slow, the way Naoya would interact with you when doing so, almost as if hesitant; but it wouldn’t take long before he became a bit more assertive with his actions, to the point where you decided to ignore your warnings and begin to open up to him, sharing the things you liked, and finding out that the two harbored many similarities than what you initially perceived… certainly far bigger than what you had with those that had come before.

With Naoya, he didn’t seem to judge you—didn’t look at you as if you’d grown a second head or was simply following your lead to pursue dubious intentions. No. He was listening to you and was sharing his own with an interest you couldn’t consider anything less than genuine.

You didn’t want to admit it easily, didn’t want to betray your hard-set motivation in keeping away… but there was something about Naoya that made it impossible, and while debating whether to pursue this feeling or not, you decided to rely on your friends for advice—albeit deep inside, you were looking for their blessing.

But instead of receiving the words you wanted to hear, those pushing you to follow your heart, you got a crude, cold reality check that quickly reminded you that your heartache had yet to end, and if anything, Satoru’s friends had just gotten more creative.

Satoru had no direct correlation with what was happening to you, for during your time is when you came to realize that someone with his status and power was bound attract lots of attention, and certainly… followers, whom ready to dissect every little aspect of his life—you included.

But was it really that hard to tell them to stop? To leave you alone? That even when you were the one that ended things, he was the one that wronged you, thus, you’ve already gone through enough?

Of course, that was something that fate wouldn’t grant you so easily, if ever. To be constantly reminded of a mistake you did in your youth, for now, in the shape of the young man standing before you.

“I know the game; I’ve been a player for far too long.” You say. “And I don’t want to keep going at it if all I’m going to be is a loser.”

There’s a sadness in your voice that immediately deepens the growing pain in Naoya’s heart, and soon, all the anger and disappointment he had towards you is quickly discarded, replaced by worry.

Just… what happened between the two?

“What happened Y/N?” he begins. “What happened with you and Satoru?”

“Don’t act like you don’t—” you begin to snap.

“I don’t” Naoya interjects, shaking his head. “I really, genuinely don’t know.”

And whether by the look of his eye, or the softness in his voice, you take it as him being honest. Maybe your personal life wasn’t as divulged as you thought it was.

Well, he ought to know now or later, so why not cut the chase?

This might as well be your moment to set the record straight, if it even mattered at that point.

“Satoru cheated on me” you begin, having to say so out loud still makes your heart clench, especially since the last time you ever uttered those words when was the wound was still fresh. “I… found him with someone else one day, when he was supposed to be doing something else…

I broke up with him soon after that and kept my distance, for my sake. But then, someone started to spread rumors about what happened, twisting the story to their liking, but always portraying me as the bad one. The one that deserved to be cheated on, because the “great Gojo Satoru” could never do wrong. And if he did, it’s because of a very valid reason.”

“What?” Naoya breathes, blinking as if that were to pull him back to reality.

Did he hear you right?

All this time, you— you were the one that—

“What do you mean cheated—”

“You didn’t strike me as someone who wouldn’t know what that means.” You frown.

“No, I know what cheating is.” He responds. “What I can’t believe is—”

“That he dated me? Yes, I know. I’ve heard it a thousand times befo—"

“No. That’s not it.” Naoya shakes his head. “I can’t believe that he—"

That he cheated on you.

That Satoru would cheat with the most perfect, beautiful, funny, supportive, caring girl he’s ever met in his life? Do that to the girl Naoya has been unknowingly dreaming of for all his life, and now had the pleasure of meeting?

How could someone so vile as Satoru not understand the blessings you represented?

Well, that was a bit hypocritical of Naoya to say at first, since he too was a very difficult person at times… careless to the privileges his status had brought, even more with the people around him.

But now that he met you, he could finally see the error in his way. The… fault in the ideology he carried.

Because he could never find himself, not anymore, harming the one person he’d ever felt such strong feelings for.

Now he knew why mothers were so overprotective of their children, why partners would go above and beyond to ensure that the other is safe, loved, protected…

He never felt that sentiment before, never understood why people were so… sappy, cringy with others.

Until he met you.

Until he met you, did he understand why they’d do so in the first place, and it felt almost silly that he ever thought otherwise, when now all that he wants to do is be with you, give you the whole world, bring you down the stars, if it meant you’d be happy again.

And to think he even justified the nasty things people were saying about you.

He’s even ashamed to have ever belonged to their side.

“My feelings for you are true.” Is what Naoya would come to say. “Since the moment I saw you, I’ve always felt this… attraction to you; but when I finally got to know you better, the person you truly are, is when I knew that what I felt for you was much more than finding you pretty.”

“Naoya—” you sob, tears now falling down your cheeks, raising your hands to wipe them equally fast as they began to appear. “That’s not—Don’t take me for a fool—!”

“If you don’t believe me.” He begins, taking a step closer to you and attempting to grab one of your hands, you swat him away. “Then let me prove it to you.”

“I don’t want you to do any—”

“However long it takes, whatever I need to do” he insists, finally taking hold of your wrist. “I’ll show you how much you mean to me.”

Naoya then carefully raises one of his hands to your face, gently swiping away one of your tears as you remained there, speechless, but sad. He didn’t know where this uncharacteristic softness came from — certainly never have done so in his life with anyone else— only that it felt right to do so.

And you… you wouldn’t have allowed such thing if you didn’t harbor any kind of sentiments from him to begin with, his words giving you hope for something you’ve long thought lost… but because you were in such emotional turmoil of disbelief, you didn’t find it in yourself to make a decision at that moment, or allowing him to be near you like this, opting to free yourself out of Naoya’s grasp, quickly turning around and leaving him on the spot.

It was undeniable that you didn’t expect him to go through with his words, initially believing them to be nothing but a joke, something to get you to lower your guard, and if he did, it wouldn’t last beyond a few days….

But Naoya would soon prove himself to be a man of his word when the 8th day came along and had gifted you for the consecutive time your favorite brand of mochi, the one you recalled telling him one time, if you ever did—to the point were you had to give some away because you didn’t believe you’d ever get to finish them!

Followed by a plushie of your favorite videogame, each day a different one, any that he could find, enough to fill boxes and boxes with them, making you consider opening your own store and reselling them…

Culminating in buying you the newest release of said franchise, which you’ve been saving up for weeks now, spending nothing of your allowance just for a chance to get it, but now that Naoya had taken care of that, what were you going to do with that money?

Well, whatever it was that you thought, Naoya would find out eventually, and take care of it, moving you back to the start.

But while these actions were… alluring by their own, they were nothing compared to what he did last.

Naoya would be underestimating his feelings if he didn’t voice just how infuriated he truly was to hear that first, Satoru had cheated on you, and secondly, that his so called “friends” had been pestering you about it—no, not pestering you, tormenting you. Picking at you as if you were the novelty hobby, the prime instigator, when it had been the other way around, and you were only smart to call quits!

He couldn’t see the same people he used to involve himself with without feeling disdain for them, especially those he knew had only gone above and beyond to make a miserable, laughingstock out of you.

And as the always determined man to take matter into his own hands, it didn’t take long for you to se the consequences of it.

It’s what finally pushed you to talk to him, after all.

“Y/N, good morning.” He says, a soft smile on his face upon seeing you approach him. Like a lost puppy, he couldn’t help himself from beaming with excitement when seeing your familiar, cute, adorable face looking at him after days of silence. “How are you—”

“…You had something to do with that, didn’t you?” you ask, straight to the point. Your bluntness surprised Naoya, but he can’t say he wasn’t expecting this at one point, hoped it would, really.

“With what?” He asks, there were many things he had planned for you, but he didn’t want to be the one to reveal them. Naoya wished to keep the element of surprise for as long as possible.

“You know exactly what. It’s… with them” and Naoya does his best to grin proudly.

“Did something happen?” he asks instead, feigning ignorance.

No.

Nothing bad, at least; completely unexpected… yet welcomed, because it gave you both things your heart always wanted, but never voiced in fear of being hurt.

“… the ones that made fun of me, they… apologized to me.” You begin, the first of your closures.

And it was only obvious that they would, for as soon as Naoya found out the responsible ones of your growing pain, he made sure to find them and give them a hard-earned lesson through… unconventional matters, nothing that could be traced to him, of course.

You could only guess what it had been due to the frightened look on their faces when they sought your forgiveness, as well as the bruises on their arms…

Which you didn’t necessarily agree with, but at the same time, you couldn’t deny the obvious: the impact that Naoya’s actions have caused on your life, starting from his appearance to his insistence, and now, this.

“Really?” He asks. “That’s good, it’s the bare minimum…”

“I don’t need to be a detective to know you had something to do with it” You respond, and he just shrugs, still putting up the ignorant act. But if anything, that just gave away his involvement.

“But… why?”

You knew the answer, but perhaps you needed to hear it with your own ears.

The second of your closures.

“I told you, didn’t I?” he responds. “I wanted to show you how much you truly mean to me…”

Before looking away, cheeks red upon noticing your intent stare at him, instead of running away.

“But, I mean—yeah, what they did was wrong. As I said, it’s the bare minimum!” he coughs. “You didn’t deserve to be treated like that, not when you weren’t the one at fault.”

And at the culmination of his words, his actions, and now, your feelings—you can’t help but cry, tears falling down your cheeks as you let out a quiet sob.

But your tears weren’t of sadness, or disappointment, no. They were far from that.

They were of happiness, for the realization that you finally obtained what you’ve longed for in your life, what your heart always dreamed of since the moment you had conscience: to find the man that would do anything for you; prove you such… cherish you….

“I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—cry.” You’d say, laughing nervously as you do your best to wipe away the falling tears. “It’s the 2nd time you’ve seen me do this, and we’re not even that close—”

“What difference does it make, if you’re going to be my girlfriend either way?” He attempts to joke, lighten up the mood so as to get you to stop crying, but when you don’t respond is when he notes he might’ve greatly miscalculated the moment, feeling nothing but a jerk. “I—forget what I said, I shouldn’t—

“I…I’ll have to think about it.” You begin softly through sniffles. “It all depends on where we go on our first date.”

His heart soars for you.

“I know a place that might push you into considering it.” He teases, and for the first time, of many to come, he makes you blush.

“…We shall see, then.” You chuckle, continuing to wipe some of the tears off your face, until Naoya wins you to it by swiping them with his thumb. The gesture, alongside his closeness, further flusters you, but makes you feel good, nonetheless.

If being with him means you’d get this kind of attention, this kind of care, and the promise that your feelings will be reciprocated….

Then you wouldn’t mind giving love a second chance.

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Boyfriend!Kang Taehyun x F!Reader TW : reader depression ; other members being jerks ; Taehyun is kind of oblivious ; angsty ; fluff ending ; Word Count : 2.3k Request : @moon0fthenight : Can you do a fic abt txt taehyun, where reader comes to dance practice room but overhears some OTher member badmouthing her, twice, so just stops coming and just starts pulling away (ofc reader has depression but tae obv doesn’t know), and taehyun realizes

You sat in the corner of the practice room, your eyes turned down to look at your phone as Taehyun went to get drinks for himself and the guys. You hated when you got left alone with them, the last time you had been in a situation like this, they had gone about making you feel so unwanted and unwelcome in the room that by the time Taehyun came back you were on the verge of tears and ended up going home early. 

Today felt like it would most likely go the same way. You could feel their eyes on you, and the only feeling that you got from those eyes was annoyance and such a strong sense of dislike that it had your skin crawling. “Talk about a stage five clinger. Does she have to come to all of the practices?” They spoke about you as if you weren’t there, or maybe they just didn’t care enough to keep their shit talking to a level where you wouldn’t hear them. 

“She’s gonna ruin it for him since she’s always up his ass. Enough pictures come out about them all of the fans are gonna turn on him.” They made it seem like you were forcing Taehyun to take you with him to all of his practices when it was quite the opposite. Not that he was forcing you to go with him when he went, but he asked you every time if you wanted to go, and even if you found a reason to not go, he’d give you a million other reasons why you should go. 

You tried so hard not to let it bother you, but it seemed like at this point they were trying to hurt you. You weren’t even sure why they seemed to hate you so much, maybe it was just fun for them to see how much they could break you down, or maybe they just didn’t want Taehyun to be with anyone. Either why, they didn’t have to go as far as they were with the insults and the shit talking. “It probably wouldn’t be so bad if she were famous or something… But she’s just… She’s a nobody. What does he even see in her?” 

It didn’t even matter to you who was saying it, and it’s not like you wanted to look up to see exactly who was bad mouthing you. All you did know was that you wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, you couldn’t handle listening to anymore. You didn’t bother to find Taehyun to let him know you were leaving, you just had to go. You were sure he’d figure it out, or you at least hoped he would. 

When he came back with the drinks, his eyes scanned the room, his smile so bright until he had done a full 360 and realized that you weren’t there. “Did she go to the bathroom or something?” He asked, his eyes glancing to the door every couple seconds just in case you walked back in. It wasn’t like you to just up and leave without letting him know, and he worried that something might have happened to have you just disappearing the way you did. 

“She just ran off. I’m sure if it were a problem she’d be blowing up your phone. Don’t even worry about it man, we’ve got more important stuff to work on.” Yeonjun said, and the rest of the guys nodded their heads in agreement. It was a problem, no doubt, the way they all seemed to think that whatever could possibly be going on right now didn’t hold any kind of importance. Maybe it didn’t to them, but to him you were the top priority. 

Taehyun shook his head, trying not to get too annoyed with them as he pulled out his phone. “I’ll just call her real quick, make sure she’s okay.” He said, about to walk out of the room so he could talk to you in private out in the hallway, but Beomgyu snatched his phone out of his hand and shoved it into the pocket of his sweatpants. “What the he-”

“Call her later.” Beomgyu mumbled, moving to the center of the practice room to get into position. “She’s a distraction even when she’s not here, jeez.” He mumbled to himself, but all of the guys had heard it, Taehyun included, and his agitation levels were rising as the others laughed at what seemed to be a joke, but he wasn’t the biggest fan of their comedy if it meant putting you down. 

“That’s not even funny.” Taehyun said under his breath, getting into position so he could start rehearsing the new dance. As much as he wanted to call you and make sure everything was okay, he knew that it would be faster if he just got practice over with so he could get back home to you as soon as he could. 

Did he even notice that you weren’t there anymore? You thought that maybe he would have tried to get in contact with you once he noticed you weren’t in the room, but your phone hadn’t gone off at all. Maybe he just didn’t care anymore. Maybe the guys had talked to him and made him finally realize just how useless you were to him. They were right. You weren’t an idol, you weren’t famous in any way. You weren’t even sure what he saw in you. You didn’t deserve him, you didn’t even deserve to be in the same room with him, let alone sleep in the same bed as him every night. The only thing you’d do by continuing to stay with him was jeopardize his career, and you didn’t want to do that. You wanted him to be successful, and with you in the picture, you knew he would never get to where he truly could be. 

Part of you wanted to stick around, just long enough to tell him that you were leaving, and that part of you also hoped that maybe he’d beg you to stay, that he’d tell you that you were being crazy. Then there was the part of you that was more realistic, the part that told you that he wouldn’t care if you stayed or left. You weren’t helping him in any way, it’s not like you were the one going on tours and concerts and performing for millions of people. You were disposable, he didn’t need you at all. 

Sadly there wasn’t much that you could do this late at night, and there was nowhere for you to go, so you’d at least have to deal with whatever was to come, at least for one more night. Your phone started to vibrate and Taehyuns picture illuminated the screen. Would he tell you that he wasn’t coming home tonight? Why would he want to come home and see you anyway? He could do better than you… And you didn’t want to answer the phone to hear him say that, so you let it ring until the notification came up that you had a voicemail, and you didn’t want to listen to that either. 

The front door opened slowly, maybe he thought you were sleeping and he was trying to come in quietly, or maybe he was trying to sneak in so he could avoid you and go straight to the bedroom. It’s not like he’d want to see you anyway, you were nothing special, you were nothing in general. “There you are, I thought you were sleeping since you didn’t answer…” He said, sighing after the words had left his mouth. Was it a sigh of relief or a sigh of disappointment that you were still awake, that he’d still have to deal with you?

“Was just getting ready to go to bed.” You said, pushing yourself up off the couch. “Goodnight.” You added as you walked past him, heading down the hall towards the guest bedroom. Who would want to wake up next to you? Surely not him. He was too good for you, too perfect. He didn’t deserve to have to see you in the morning when he just woke up from his dreams of being with someone better, someone prettier than you. 

“Hey…” He whispered, quickly kicking off his shoes and following after you. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He quizzed, and you didn’t want him to pretend to be worried about you, you didn’t want him to ask questions that you knew he didn’t care to know the answers to. Plus, those questions were just enough to have you getting choked up as you shook your head, trying to walk faster to get away from him, but he was faster, moving in front of you and putting his hands on your shoulders to stop you from going any further. “You’re really worrying me now… Can you just talk to me?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’ll be gone by tomorrow, you don’t have to pretend to give a shit anymore.” You tried to sound strong, to sound unbothered, but your voice broke, and it felt like you were breaking too. The entire life that you had lived with Taehyun, the life that you were dreaming of for the future, it had all been a lie, but for what? “I just want to go to bed.” 

“What the hell are you talking about? Why are you leaving tomorrow? Where are you going?” He asked quite urgently, his eyes wide and the corners of his lips pulling down, not into a pout, but he just looked sad. You had never seen him look that way before. Maybe it was because he finally was getting caught, the truth was going to come out. “And what do you mean I pretend to give a shit? What the hell happened? Where are you getting this from? Just talk to me, dammit.” 

You rolled your shoulders, causing his hands to drop to his sides dejectedly, the look of sadness on his face only growing more prominent as you stepped away from him. “I know what you and the guys talk about. I heard them. I don’t know why you’re with me either… But you don’t have to keep playing this part or this role or… Whatever it is you’re doing. I know you’re famous, I know that you’re above me in every single way… But that doesn’t mean that I don’t get hurt by this shit. Was it a bet? Was it a game? Why did you let it go so far?” 

His eyes widened along with his mouth, his head shaking profusely. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if they said anything that hurt you, tell me and I’ll handle it. I’m not with you for a game or a bet, and I sure as hell am not above you. I’m not above anyone. I love you because I fell in love with you from the moment I saw you… I wanted to be with you and only you. You have to talk to me though… Tell me what they said. What did they say?” 

Was this what the guys were talking about? You’d ruin the group. Is this how it would be ruined? If you said anything, if you told Taehyun what the guys had said, he’d surely be pissed if what he was saying was true. It would completely destroy the friendship that the guys had. You didn’t want to be the cause of that. You didn’t want them to be right. “It’s nothing… Don’t worry about it.” You mumbled, trying to move around him as he stood in the center of the hall, you were so close to the guest room door, but he refused to let you go. 

Taehyuns arm shot out, his hand landing against the wall to block you from leaving the conversation. “It’s obviously something. How the hell am I supposed to not be worried when you’re talking about leaving me? You’re doubting that I ever loved you, and you’re still trying to sleep in a different bed than me, and you want me to believe that it’s nothing? Regardless of if you tell me or not, I’m going to find out because I’m pissed at them now for even causing this in the first place. But, if you tell me, I can make sure you know that everything they said, whatever it is, it’s not true. It’s not true…” 

The urge to cry had been building the entire time, but now the tears were finally being let free, trickling down to hang from your chin as you shook your head. You felt absolutely pitiful right now, and all you could think of was how pathetic you must look. “I’m not good enough for you… I’m annoying and I’m clingy and I’m a nobody… I don’t know why you’re with me… Nobody knows…” In your own ears you sounded so whiny, which only verified the truth that only you believed in, that you were annoying… Why would he want to be with someone like you? 

His arms wrapped tightly around you, his hand gently pressing your face into his chest as he held you close. “It’s not true… None of that is…” He repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. “You are good enough for me, if anything, I’m not good enough for you. I’m always so busy and I can’t be here for you like I want to be… But you’re always here for me, and you never left my side, and that makes you more deserving than anyone else to stand by my side… Which is where I want you to be always. And that in itself proves that you’re not the clingy one… I am. I like having you with me, and if they guys have a problem with that… They’re just gonna have to deal with it, and part of me thinks that they’re jealous because they don’t have someone as amazing as you to support them and love them unconditionally like you do for me. I’m with you for a lot of reasons, but the most important reason is that I love you, and there’s nothing that anyone can say or do to change my mind. All I want is you, forever and ever…”

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[doomsday-dj]

Yo. Bestie. Do you have any Rizzles author recommendations for me??

You have cruelly seduced me into this teeny-tiny-weeny fandom and now I have galloped my way through (almost) all of your brilliant body of work I am cast adrift and quickly finding out that "sort by kudos" simply does not bring up the goods here...

Help a gay out?

Oh fuck yeah, bestie. Yes. Do I ever!! I am about to WEAR OUT the link function. But before the recommendations: aw shucks and thank you and all that. Your comments this week have been a highlight. I'm sorry to have dragged you into this but hopefully this post makes up for it! I've been dabbling in some other fandoms lately, ones with a LOT of fics, and there's a lot of great writers out there, but I have to say that especially relative to how many fics there are, there's an outrageous amount of good writers who have written Rizzles.

Okay! So disclaimer that I’ve had a really ungodly amount of coffee today so if this is a little on the “un” side of hinged then I apologize. I am definitely gonna be REAL effusive. I was silly and shy about leaving comments and kudos when I first got on AO3 and now I make up for those crimes by being unabashedly keen.

I have gone and sorted by kudos (and, sidenote, discovered that I'm in the top 30????) and before I get to the under-appreciated bangers, I will say that plenty of my faves feature in the first two pages of sort by kudos (though their most kudosed work is almost never my fave one). Here I’m thinking of coolbyrne, @julieverne, DanteBeatrice77. All of these authors are awesome.

Also, amongst the highly kudosed works, Attachment by @performativezippers is a classic for in the fandom for good reason (and their Bachelor AU is a romp) and law of the lever by sharkfights is one of my favourites all time.

As for the other stuff, what do you WANT out of your fic, bestie?

You want the feelings? You want the beautifully written feelings? @ladyriot has got feelings FOR DAYS. If you want some one shots that will take you apart and put you back together, you’ve come to the right place. Good feelings, angsty feelings, all the feelings you need. My favourite is Let Our Hands Tell the Story but I recommend all of them. Mostly it's one shots but the one complete multi-chapter fic, Transference, is CRIMINALLY UNDERRATED. Less than 200 kudos?! Fuck all the way off. I don’t know if it’s because it’s an AU or if it’s because of the doctor/patient element but unless that’s a trigger, I promise you it it’s handled very artfully and also it’s fucking fiction and no patient’s rights were violated in the making of this fic. Oh and put your ink on my skin 'til it comes off on me is both devastating and stupid hot.

Haven’t had enough feelings?? Take your insufficiently battered heart over to @sideadde’s work. I especially like Who Needs Two Kidneys When Another Heart Can Be Had? and Immersion Therapy.

You want a big meaty casefic you can sink your teeth into?? Domini_porter’s CMYK is so goddamn good. The smutty chapters in this one are just...chef's kiss. Among my favourites all time. I am also entirely obsessed with their Victorian AU, which deserves more attention. Also if you want some crack-your-chest-open-and-pull-out-your-guts angst go alllll the way back to their first fics on AO3.

OH. @kurtsvonneslut too. I think and you cooled my mind that burned with longing is probably my favourite post-finale type fic, bit of an AU with some major canon changes. They also have an excellent picking-up-from-the-Jane-and-Maura-season-2/3-break-up casefic, A Crime of Passion, and they wrote a devastating exploration of PTSD that just...oooof.

God, I could really just keep going and going. And this is just on AO3!!! I feel like I could do a whole part two of this that's just flagging all the best stuff that's back on ff.net. I might have to because this is already really long. But I'm stopping for now. Thanks for the BEST ASK.

*dramatic stage whisper* psssst do you want smut? I feel like I could also do a whole post on smut alone. Maybe later.

Note: I’ve tagged authors if their tumblr name is the same as their ao3 name, because I assume they’re okay with being found. If any of you would like to be untagged from the post just DM me and I’ll do that lickety split.