#again (poll) is there for screen readers

[thesurprisinglyqueertoast]

please reblog for sample size

[kentocidal]

lucky winner

users: piercer!bakugou x afab!fem!reader x tattoo artist!kirishima

internal warnings: descriptions of needles/tattoos/piercings as they occur, long fic, wow there's plot in this!, consensual threeway, established krbk, oral (m and f!receiving), piv, spit, size kink, light dacryphilia, spitroasting, inaccurate positioning, ask to tag

internal notes: three way won the poll so i went ham. my fault og. final word count somehow came to 5.2k ish.

new notifications: @kaedescara

you stared blankly at the notification on your phone, wide-eyed and jaw agape. you blinked slowly, rubbed a hand down your face, and then clicked your phone off and back on again. the screen lit back up to your screensaver and the single notification that sat covering it. ‘@sincitytattoojp tagged you in their story! check it out!’

you looked up from your phone to your friend, who you now realized was calling your name and snapping her fingers. “uh, hello? earth to y/n? what’s going on? did your ex message you or something?”

“i think i won something.” you mumbled, turning your phone to show your friend. she furrowed her brows together and took your phone from your hand, studying the notification before cracking a grin. 

“is this that tattoo parlor in tokyo that you keep talking about hypothetically going to?” she laughed as she punched in your passcode and opened up instagram, pressing on the icon to the parlor’s instagram story.

you were quick to snatch your phone back to watch the story yourself, raising the volume on your phone to hear it. it was a video of someone’s hand reaching into a very full fishbowl of printed instagram handles, pulling out a tiny piece of paper and unfolding it to reveal your instagram username. the caption read in big red lettering, “congrats to @[y/n] for winning the human canvas raffle. reply to this post by midnight to schedule your slot.”

you swallowed thickly and looked up at your friend. “i won the fucking raffle. i won the nine hour session.”

your friend sucked in a breath before laughing and lifting her glass to you. “godspeed, soldier.”

you looked back down at your phone and clicked back to rewatch your name be pulled from the bowl. you had entered the contest on a whim – you hadn’t expected to win. you had reposted the parlor’s picture and tagged your three closest friends to enter a bid into becoming a human canvas for a day, i.e. getting tattooed and pierced until you tapped out. the parlor owners couldn’t seem to decide on whether to call it the human canvas contest or the no mercy challenge, not that it mattered. both fit the bill to describe what you had just won.

you swiped up on the story.

you: i dont know whether to be terrified or excited.

@sincitytattoojp: both, sweetheart. sign this and get it back to us [1 attachment]

you had gone through an extensive back and forth that night, printing and signing and scanning different waivers and papers to ensure that you would be able to handle an entire day of sitting in a chair getting poked and prodded with needles and getting art permanently printed on your skin forever. you were grateful that they took so much precaution in ensuring you were well aware of the situation you were putting yourself in, and getting ample consent confirmed ahead of time. you already felt comfortable as you stepped off the train in tokyo and started towards the shop.

sin city tattoo and body art. the small tattoo shop had garnered a massive following around the globe for the gorgeous work that consistently poured from the studio. the artists had never shown their faces on their page, but it was clearly just a two man show. sometimes one of them would film the other doing their newest piece on a client they handpicked from the waiting list, and it was clear that the two were a little more than close friends. 

you trusted their work. you were a new client, obviously, but after following their page for over a year, you knew you would be okay with going through with this. you were just… inexperienced. you had a tiny tattoo of a butterfly on your ankle and your ears double pierced in the lobes, but that was it.

you rounded the corner and saw the neon sign over the glass doors to the shop, the shutters pulled down. you took a deep breath and tried the door, mildly surprised that it opened up. a tiny bell chimed over your head as you stepped inside.

the shop was small, but it was clean. absolutely pristine. for a tattoo shop called sin city, you were expecting a bit more of a grunge theme, not exactly the creamy white walls littered with black picture frames of flash art available for purchase, a tall cabinet filled with various jewelry for fresh piercings, plants in the corners surrounding two chairs that were supposedly for a waiting area. there was a tall partition behind the front desk, and the shop stretched backward, most likely leading to a tattoo chair and then a piercing table, respectively. 

you stood awkwardly by the front door, gripping your bag in front of you. you had brought a few little snacks and some water in preparation for being there all day. you shuffled your feet as you heard footsteps coming up from the back of the shop, and suddenly you were reconsidering your outfit choice. you had tried to be helpful by going with a tight spaghetti strap tank top and a high riding skirt, knowing that you would probably need to shuffle clothes around during the course of the day.

your thoughts got clogged almost immediately when a brick wall of a man rounded the partition, scratching the back of his neck and staring down at you with big red eyes that looked curious, almost playful. he had to have been at least six-five, looming over you with broad shoulders and bulky arms that were covered in tattoos that went all the way down to his knuckles. his red hair was tied half-up half-down, the black roots at his forehead showing through.

you gaped at him like a fish out of water, face starting to feel warm as he glanced you up and down, and then smiled, revealing a wide set of sharp sharklike teeth. “aye, kats! i think she’s here!” he called over his shoulder before stepping behind the front desk. “you’re our pretty contest winner, right?”

“uh-”

“my name’s eijirou kirishima. i’m the main tattoo guy here.” he grinned at you, boyish and peppy, and it stifled your nerves somewhat as you returned the smile, but you were flustered beyond belief. you had seen the videos of him tattooing, you knew at least that his hands were big, but not the rest of him.

“ah, yeah, hi. i’m y/n. it’s nice to see your fsce for once.” you giggled nervously, and he laughed and nodded.

“yeah, we’re not all about showing who we are online. the page got too big, tokyo’s a big place, we don’t want the extra attention, yknow?” he smiled warmly at you as he bent down and shuffled through some paperwork under the desk, pulling it out and gesturing for you to come closer. “i know we already got a lot of your stuff online, but this is the last waiver. pretty much a final agreement that we get to do whatever we want to your body until you either tap out, or the clock hits six, whichever comes first.” 

you made a little squeaking noise at his phrasing, glancing at his face as he just continued to smile. he fumbled around for a pen and held it out to you, and you reached to take it, but he snatched it back and leaned across the desk. “just so you know, you can say stop at any time. we’re not forcing you to be here. if you say no to an idea, we won’t do it. stuff like that. okay?”

you blinked at him. he seemed so genuine, really making sure he was thorough in his explanations of the paperwork and of your position in this. it helped you take a deep breath and nod. “i know. i’m all good.”

“awesome. you seem like a real trooper.” he chuckled in a deep, rumbly voice, and finally held the pen back out to you. 

you took it, your soft fingers brushing over his rough skin and making you feel like your hand was alight in flames. you signed your name at the bottom of the form, dated it, and slid it back across the desk to kirishima. he just grinned at you and shoved the paper into the desk again.

“bakugou! come on, man! she’s all good!” kirishima leaned his head around the partition, and you jumped slightly when the familiar voice of kirishima’s partner sounded from the back of the shop.

“i fucking heard you the first time, i’m not fucking deaf!”

“well, just hurry up!” kirishima laughed and turned back to you. “sorry, he’s a real stickler for making sure his spot is all clean. i’m clean, but he’s a neat freak.”

“who’re you calling a neat freak, red?” a slightly shorter man stepped out from down the hallway, and again you felt your breath catch in your throat.

he was still tall, but far more intimidating in his black wife beater and jeans. he took off his mask that had been covering the lower half of his face, revealing a nose piercing and snake bites around plush lips. his fluffy blonde hair was standing up in all the right places, piercing red eyes looking your form up and down as he cracked his knuckles. his arms were littered patchwork-style, much different than kirishima’s full sleeves, and he clearly liked to hit the gym seven days a week.

you gulped and shifted your weight as bakugou’s eyes drifted over you. “name’s katsuki bakugou. you’ve already met red. didya sign the form?”

“uh, yes. all of the forms.”

“great.” his eyes locked on yours. clearly, this guy was all about professionalism and business, at least while he was on the clock. then he turned his head to kirishima. “so, where did you want to start her?”

you found yourself laid down on your chest, head turned to the side to stare at bakugou’s back as he organized something off to the side. music was playing, but you could hardly hear it over the buzzing of the tattoo gun and the weight of kirishima’s hand on your back.

you chewed on your lip as you felt the needle trace over the skin of your lower back, occasionally lifting to get more ink, only to return and start the ministrations over again. it wasn’t an easy spot to get ink done; tramp stamps were adorable and sexy, but the skin on that part of a person’s back is notoriously thin. despite this, however, you always found the pain to be… enjoyable. 

you felt kirishima’s free hand slide over to the middle of your back, splaying out, applying some pressure to get a better angle as he leaned over you. if he wasn’t wearing a mask, you would be able to feel his warm breaths fanning out against your sensitive skin. your eyes fluttered and you did your best not to move as your neurons fired over the sheer size of his hand against your back. splayed out like that, his fingertips were on one side and the heel of his hand almost felt like it was on the other. perhaps your perception was being warped on account of the buzzing needle poking your back, but you couldn’t be entirely sure.

kirishima added more pressure even as the needle lifted away from your skin, pushing you down into the bed, making you squeak softly. bakugou’s head turned briefly to you, glinting in the white overhead lighting almost devilishly, before turning away again.

“so,” kirishima’s low voice made you flinch slightly, having been entranced by the weight of him looming over your form, “i don’t really see any ink on you. is this your first time?” you heard him chuckle into his mask as he waited for you to relax again, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin to calm you down, before pressing the needle down again. “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, hun.”

you felt like some kind of high schooler talking about her virginity. “it’s- it’s fine. no, it’s not my first, but it’s my first big one. i’ve got a little one on my ankle.”

“your ankle?” he repeated, still pressing the needle to your skin and definitely coloring a shape in. “who did that for you? wasn’t us.”

“right, yeah.” you giggled slightly, really trying not to move as you wiggled the foot that held the little tattoo. “just an old friend who was an apprentice somewhere else.”

“ankle’s a rough place for a first tattoo,” grumbled bakugou, finally turning towards you and sitting down in a chair a little ways away, manspreading in your peripheral. “how’d you sit for that?”

“it hurt, but i liked it.” you mumbled back honestly, glancing back when you felt kirishima put the tattoo gun down and reach with a gloved hand towards your ankle, bending your leg at the knee to study the work.

“hm. it’s real cute on you, but i would’ve done it a little different.” his thumb brushed over the tattoo, over the thin skin of your ankle, sending a spike of heat through your body. “i could touch it up later.” he guided your leg back down and brushed his hand over the back of your thigh briefly before picking his tattoo gun back up and reapplying that heavy pressure to your back again.

“yeah, okay…” you murmured breathily, feeling small underneath kirishima’s weight and the power of bakugou’s gaze where he was staring at you, at kirishima, at how kirishima’s hands left indents in your skin as he worked.

your mouth felt like it was full of cotton, your head feeling like all the blood had drained from it and gone south. you shouldn’t be thinking like this, feeling like this, not while effectively getting stabbed thousands of times per minute.

bakugou hummed as he stood up again to get within your line of sight. “you said you liked the pain, huh? you one of those weird people that gets a high off of getting ink done?”

you felt your face burst with heat, unable to move as you opened your mouth and stammered. kirishima chuckled behind his mask.

“don’t tease, kats.”

“‘m not teasin’. i was just sayin’ that i agree with her.” bakugou smirked at you before stepping around the wall to go get a water from the fridge.

kirishima’s free hand slid from your middle back to just above your ass, his thumb rubbing into the fabric of your tight skirt as he worked.

“you’re sitting really well for this, doll. ‘m proud. probably one of my favorite things to do is back tattoos. especially these.”

you hummed softly in the back of your throat, probably mumbling a thank you that just made him laugh again.

you didn’t say anything when his free hand squeezed your ass as he leaned back to get more ink in the gun.

kirishima had spread the second skin across your pretty new tramp stamp with precision, making sure it wouldn’t wrinkle or peel away until your tattoo was healed. you were given a snack of chips and a bottle of water to recuperate while bakugou prepped his area, pulling on a mask and snapping black latex gloves over his hands. “so, how ya feelin’?”

“good,” you took a breath as you capped your water, sitting quietly on the tattoo bench and waiting to move to the piercing table. “ready to move on, i guess.”

“hope you don’t mind, but i took some photos when red was doing you.” he glanced over his shoulder, and you smiled and waved it off.

“i don’t mind at all. my friend didn’t believe me when i said i was actually gonna come.”

“that so?” bakugou cocked a brow, his mouth hidden behind the black mask. “anyway, what’re you thinking for this next bit? industrial? nose?”

“ah.” you shifted on the bench, glancing away from him as kirishima rounded the corner. “i was, uh. i was thinking i could get my… i could get my nipples pierced first? get the worst ones out of the way?”

kirishima blinked once and immediately shot a look to bakugou, who made eye contact. it was like telepathy; there was a silent exchange between them before bakugou nodded and waved for you to step over. “sure, whatever. it’s definitely not the worst pain, though.”

“really?” you stood on jelly legs and walked over to the piercing bench, sitting down in front of bakugou, who pulled a chair over to sit.

“mhm. worst i would say for a girl is the clitoral hood.”

you flushed and shook your head. “no thanks. i think i’ll stick to this for now.”

“okay.” bakugou sat back in his chair, staring at you. you stared back, tilting your head. bakugou furrowed his brows and clicked his tongue, making an ‘up’ motion with two fingers. only then did it click that you needed to take your shirt off.

you looked around as you started to tug your tank top up, looking over at kirishima, who was leaning against the wall with fascination. “ah, sorry! if you really want, i can leave.”

“no! no, it’s fine.” you shook your head, and finally got the courage to lift your tank top up and over your head. in preparation for this, you had simply forgone your bra in the morning.

you were left in just your skirt and panties, essentially. kirishima hummed low in his throat, earning him a glare from bakugou. you felt like you were on fire when bakugou reached a hand out to your shoulder. “lay back. slow.”

you shuddered under his grasp and laid back on the table, bringing your feet up and bending your knees to be a little more comfortable. your nipples pebbled and hardened from the cold air of the parlor.

bakugou studied your tits with an intense gaze, clearly focused on his job in a way that kirishima was not. where kirishima was flirty, groping and grabbing, bakugou was cold and practiced.

“so this is gonna go something like this. one of these is gonna hurt more than the other. when i tell you, you gotta breathe in, and then breathe out all at once. it’ll make the pain a little easier to handle.”

“okay.”

“i’ll be quick, but we gotta do one at a time.” he grabbed a skin safe marker and finally his hands reached for one of your tits, rubbing his thumb into the skin as he marked where the needle would enter and exit. you felt like you were shaking, being grabbed and examined in such a professional manner.

“you can’t have any fuckin’ saliva or jizz or whatever touch these till they’re fully healed, you got that?”

you squeaked, almost jumping in surprise at his words, before laughing and shaking your head. “no worries there.”

“you sure?” bakugou tilted his head, eyebrow raised, and kirishima laughed as he walked over towards the bench.

you didn’t get a chance to answer bakugou, because kirishima was by your head, offering his massive hand to you. “you can squeeze my hand so you don’t pass out.”

you looked up at him through your lashes, squirming on the bench as bakugou squeezed your tit. you didn’t answer, just reaching your hand up to hold onto kirishima’s. his hand was large, warm, and so rough. you wanted to feel his-

“alright sugar. take a deep breath in for me.”

you sucked in a breath through your teeth, and then suddenly a white hot pain shot through your body, something never experienced before. your vision whited out and you may or may not have cried out and dug your nails into kiri’s hand, gripping it tightly.

your head swam as you were encouraged to breathe, and then to breathe in again as the wide bar was slipped through the new piercing. you yelped and jerked on the table, making bakugou put his gloved hand flat between your tits to try and ground you. “relax, brat. stay fucking still. gotta get this stupid ball on.”

“aw, she’s cryin’.” kiri chuckled and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. your cheeks did feel wet as the pain subsided slowly. you whimpered as bakugou leaned away from you and reached to grab another needle package and the second bar.

“one more, drama queen. you can do it. just one more.”

“already?” you whined, shaking your head at him as he scooted his chair closer to get a better angle on your other nipple.

you did not get a chance to beg for mercy. “breathe in deep, good fuckin’ girl.”

you screamed this time. bakugou had been right, one hurt more than the other. your head felt so light all of a sudden, your vision blurring as you gripped kirishima’s hand like a vice and shook. your breath punched out of you when the bar was pushed through and the little ball at the end was screwed on.

you stared up at the ceiling and tried to get your bearings as kirishima let go of your hand to pet your hair and keep it away from your tears. “you did it, pretty girl. you got it. just breathe. did such a great job, yeah?”

you gathered your thoughts together as you listened to bakugou get up and take his gloves and his mask off, tossing them away, ever the professional. he walked back over to where you were laying and held up a mirror over you to show you your new jewelry. the sight made the pain worth it; your nipples, perky and red and hard, glittering with bars pushed through.

“what do ya think?” bakugou cocked his head at you, and you let out a deep breath.

“they look… really nice.”

“really sexy, more like.” kirishima chuckled over you as he openly ogled your chest.

you made a noise of surprise, which was immediately followed by your voice getting caught in your throat when bakugou’s free hand moved to start rubbing up and down your thigh. “you okay?”

“y-yeah.”

“you need a break?”

“i think so.”

bakugou nodded and looked to kirishima, who broke into a grin and bent over you just a little, his voice dropping an octave. “let’s take a nice long break, then, huh doll? you think you might wanna relax a bit with us? take your mind off the pain?”

“what?” you shifted to sit up on your elbows, wincing from the pain in your chest, looking between them.

kirishima laughed, “come on, doll. i know you didn’t come in here wearing just that tiny skirt for nothin’.”

“you can say no.” bakugou’s hand moved off your thigh, clearly the more level headed of the two. “we’ll take a break and come back in a half hour to keep going-“

“wait.” you flushed and put up a hand to make him shut up, glancing between them. “you’re not- together?”

“well, yeah, fucking obviously we are,” bakugou rolled his eyes at you while kiri chuckled, “but if we see a hot chick, we’re not gonna say no.”

“true.” kiri was practically purring.

they were standing over you, broad shoulders and tattooed hands and muscle, red eyes honed in on your shirtless form, and for some reason you allowed your inhibitions to fall away.

you took a deep breath and pouted. “just don’t make me get an infection on my new piercings.”

“never.” bakugou cracked his first real grin, foxlike and dirty, already moving back down towards your legs to start pushing your knees apart. you sat up a bit more, onto your hands, sucking in a breath when the bench dipped under bakugou’s added weight as he pushed your knees far apart and revealed your plain cotton panties with an obvious wet spot in the crotch, your pussy throbbing with the realization.

bakugou hummed as he slid rough fingertips down the insides of your thighs. “look at that shit, red. she’s already soaked. got this pretty pussy all needy even after pokin’ her.”

“figured as much. she was all spaced out during her tat.” kiri’s meaty hand slipped around the column of your throat, practically engulfing it in one palm as he turned your head to make you look up at him.

you gasped, and kirishima’s mouth came crashing down onto yours; he had to practically crouch to get even close to you where you were sitting. your hands flew up to his hair, body twisting slightly as bakugou started to work his fingers along your hips to further push your skirt up around them.

you felt yourself start to whimper as bakugou pushed your panties to the side and slipped two fingers through your wet folds. you shook and moaned as his fingers skillfully rubbed slow circles into your clit, making your hips jerk.

kiri laughed against your lips and squeezed his hand slightly around the column of your throat, pulling away from your mouth to look at your dazed expression. “lay back, doll.”

he guided you back to lay on the bench again, letting go of your throat only for a moment to start unbuckling his belt. “kats, i’m takin’ her mouth first, mkay?”

“hm?” bakugou glanced up from where he was licking his lips, about to press his nose to your pussy. “oh, yeah sure whatever. i’m getting a taste first.”

“someone’s got an oral fixation.”

“shut the fuck up, you red-haired loser.”

you felt yourself start to giggle at their interactions, but suddenly there were lips wrapped tightly around your cliff and a fat cock hanging over your face, drooling with pre.

you swallowed as your mouth practically started to water. your head was spinning as bakugou worked his tongue against your clit, a finger starting to push its way into your right, wet heat. you moaned and felt your eyes flutter, fingers curling into the sides of the piercing bench. “ah, i-i don’t know if i can fit-“

“shh. all you gotta do is swallow. can you try just the tip?” kiri cocked his head at you, suddenly all puppy eyes as he stroked his cock to his boyfriend eating you out.

you whimpered and nodded. how could you say no? you ground your hips against bakugou’s face as your lips parted, and kirishima pushed just the fat head of his cock past them with a low groan.

you felt full. bakugou started to push a second finger into your weeping hole, drool and your juices dripping down his chin and dotting the bench as he ate you out and found the spongy spot within you that made your back arch off the bench, knees attempting and failing to snap shut around his head. bakugou growled against your pussy, unhappy with you disturbing his meal.

you couldn’t respond what with kirishima shallowly thrusting into your mouth, working inch after inch into you. you felt his heady tip hit the back of your throat as your head hung down over the edge of the bench, and you coughed and sputtered.

“shh, careful, careful. breathe.” his hand returned to your throat, feeling the way he slipped further and further in. his balls hung down in your face as he started to effectively fuck your throat, groaning when you whined around him.

you did your best to suck his cock, slobbering and drooling down your cheeks as your eyes rolled back when bakugou removed his mouth and rubbed circles into your clit with his thumb. “she tastes fuckin’ good.”

“yeah? y’think so?”

“yeah,” bakugou breathed out, almost like an offering, and as he pulled his fingers out of your wet pussy, he shoved them directly into kirishima’s mouth.

kiri groaned loudly and sucked on bakugou’s fingers with the eagerness of a dog, gripping your throat with one hand and bakugou’s wrist in the other. he made sure bakugou’s fingers were clean before letting go and rolling his hips against your face. “shit.”

“mhm.” bakugou was panting as he hurriedly fussed with his jeans, shoving them down enough to get his cock free. it was difficult, positioning himself on the bench, but he made it work as he slapped his tip against your clit.

you cried out and gagged again on kirishima’s fat cock, gurgling pathetically while they both laughed at you.

“poor babydoll,” bakugou hissed, pressing his tip to your entrance, “she can hardly breathe, eiji.”

“she’s doin’ a good fucking job. i can feel how deep i am in her throat.”

“i can fuckin’ see that.” bakugou snapped right back before taking a deep breath and sinking so slowly into your pussy.

your walls fluttered around his cock as he sheathed himself inside you, one hand gripping your hip dangerously tight and the other reaching to grab for kirishima’s free hand. “fuck, red, she feels so fucking tight.”

“if- if you think her pussy’s tight, wait till you feel her throat.” kiri panted lowly as he grabbed his boyfriend’s hand over you.

you felt like an object, a plaything, lightheaded and so, so full, almost screaming when they both started to fuck into you at once; they were slightly off pace, both focused on their own pleasure, chasing their highs and smothering you all the while.

kirishima’s hand slid from your throat to the middle of your chest, a compressing weight that left you truly breathless as his balls practically smacked into you. you did your best to try and suck his cock, really, you did, but it was so difficult when bakugou was bullying your pussy and making you shake and cry out.

kirishima was the first to falter, his hips starting to jerk erratically as your vision blurred from tears of pleasure. “oh fuck yeah, fuck, ‘m gonna cum-“

“already? pathetic.” bakugou snapped, only egging kirishima on and making him whine as he tossed his head back and came deep in your throat, making you gag and choke.

he didn’t pull out until the thick, heady ropes of his cum were seated on your tongue, taking a step back to let his fat cock slap wetly against his thigh. it was clear, then, that his refractory period was short; he was already at half mast again as he watched bakugou fuck you into the bench, hiking one of your legs up around his waist to get deeper.

you cried out loudly, voice ragged and ruined as bakugou’s thumb returned to your clit.

“come on pretty girl, lemme feel you cum around my fuckin’ cock first. come on. i know you’re close. i can feel ya squeezin’ me in. shit, baby, fucking cum for me.”

your back arched off the table and your eyes rolled back as you came hard around his cock, your vision going white as you jerked and spasmed on the table. bakugou moaned and dropped his head forward, holding on until the last second when he could pull out and cum all over your twitching cunt, jerking himself off all the way. thick ropes of cum splattered against your skin and made you shiver, all parts of you sensitive.

kirishima, cock still out and hard again, stepped over to swipe his fingers through your pussy and get a taste of yours and bakugou’s cum, groaning deep in his throat as he pressed an almost chaste kiss to bakugou’s cheek. “you wanna fuck her throat next?”

“fuck yes i do.”

[queenpiranhadon]

𖥔 ⎸⎸ 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 ⎸⎸𖥔

A/N: You all voted on this poll, and this poll, and this poll and after a LOT of voting ((again) again) , I wrote this for all of you :D Big thanks to both @zanarkandskylines and @a-had-matter for beta reading this- your support means the world to me😭 Here's my masterlist! Divider made by @cafekitsune

Warning(s): f!reader,Bakugou and reader are dating, meeting his parents for the first time, mentions of anxiety, reader’s a procrastination queen, Bakugou’s whipped lmao, characters might be a little ooc, Mitsuki loves reader loll, Masaru and reader are the real besties here though, mentions of getting married, Katsuki calls reader baby, slight cursing.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Girlfriend!Reader

To say you were nervous was an understatement. 

A week prior, your loving boyfriend of 3 months had invited you to have dinner with him and his parents, as they “were up his ass to meet you” (his words, not yours). You giggled originally, finding amusement in his lament about his overbearing parents, but you knew he loved them from the lack of malice in his words. And yet, after an entire week, only now, three hours before Bakugou would come to pick you up, did the full realization of the situation hit you like a truck.

You were going to meet his parents. 

You flitted around your room, trying to find something to wear, your entire closet seemed repulsive to you now- nothing seemed right for the occasion. 

You groaned, your attention piquing when you see a text come in. Flopping down onto your bed, you pick your phone up, reading the message.

Katsu🧡💥: Oi, the old hag wanted me to let you know that she’s making curry. That okay for you?

You feel butterflies erupt in the pit of your stomach from his thoughtfulness, even though small gestures like this should seem normal to you now. It probably never would, the explosive male you had grown to love would never cease to get you flustered. 

You: Okay! Sounds great! I bet you get your cooking skills from her ;)

Katsu🧡💥: Shut up dummy

Katsu🧡💥: Have you picked something out to wear yet?

You deadpan, knowing he would scold you for procrastinating, but you sigh, there was no point in lying to him. Even over text, he would know if you were telling the truth or not. 

You: So about that...

Katsu🧡💥: Baby, they’re not going to think less of you based on your outfit. Plus, you could wear a damn cardboard box and you’d still look hot. They’ll love you, so quit your panicking. 

You feel your cheeks grow warm at the compliment, but Bakugou’s rough but caring words didn’t help your predicament. 

You: Thank you, Katsuki- but I seriously can’t find anything 😭 What do I do??

You can practically see his eyes rolling through the three dots that dance across the screen.

Katsu🧡💥: You’re lucky I know you so well- bought you a new sweater this morning. I’ll come over early and drop it off for you.

You: Katsuki thank you so much!!! You didn’t have to though...

Katsu🧡💥: Shut up dumbass, I’ll be there in 30 mins, go do what you gotta do in the meantime. 

You smile at that, warmth pooling in your heart as you set your phone down on the side table, standing up from your bed and grabbing a towel before heading to your bathroom to take a shower. 

***

Katsuki’s already there, waiting for you by your kitchen island, scrolling through his phone, before looking up at you with your hair wrapped in a towel to prevent it from dripping everywhere, along with another to clothe your body. 

You smile happily, giggling as his nose scrunches when you press your dewy skin against him in a hug.

“Oi, get off of me,” he grumbles “Yer still all wet.”

You giggle, knowing he doesn’t mean it when he encircles you in his arms, inhaling the scent of your body wash. He places a small kiss atop the crown of your head before, reaching behind him to grab the bag on his counter, handing it to you.

“Here baby, got yer sweater for ya.”  he says, watching as your eyes light up after rummaging through the contents. 

You squeal happily, planting a kiss on his cheek before running back into your bedroom, knowing exactly what to pair with the article of clothing.

“Thanks Katsuki!! Give me like 30 minutes!” you chirp, before disappearing into your bedroom. 

He chuckled under his breath, and ran his fingers over the thin gold chain you bought for him for your “one-week-aversary" (your words, not his). Originally, he had scoffed at you, wondering why you would spend your money on him for something so trivial, but you just brushed it off, grinning saying “It’s not trivial Katsuki! This is my way of showing my love!” You were just so cute, he loved you so much it hurts, and yet you both had only been dating for a few months.

You were going to be the death of him, that’s for sure. 

***

After you got ready, you both got into the car, sitting in comfortable silence the entire way, other than the soft music that played from the aux cord. 

Katsuki could tell you were nervous, the way your fingers fiddled with the ribbon surrounding the chocolate you bought for his parents was a dead giveaway. 

And yet, he knew that nothing he would say would alleviate your stress, so he remained silent, knowing your worries would be gone as soon as the old hag got her claws on you. 

The car reaches to a stop in the driveway, and Katsuki almost wants to take out his phone and snap a picture as your eyes grow wide and your lips part by the sheer size of his house.

“Woah...” you breathe, in awe “ I knew your parents were successful, but you never told me they were rich.”

Katsuki flushes, exiting the car and opening the door for you. “S’nothin.” he says, averting his gaze from yours, as if he wasn’t imagining living in a nice house with you in the future. 

You interlock your fingers with his, relishing in the comfort of his calloused fingertips brushing over your knuckles, his hand squeezing yours as a final reassurance before bringing his hand up to aggressively knock on the door. 

“OI HAG OPEN UP!” he yells, only for the door to swing open, revealing a beautiful woman with a striking resemblance to the man next to you. 

“Katsuki Bakugou yell like that one more time and I will-” the woman, who you assume to be Katsuki’s mother, notices you then, all anger directed towards her son melting away once she sets her eyes on you. 

Her scarlet eyes sparkled as they looked over you once over in approval, rushing towards you with a big grin on her face and enveloping you in a crushing hug. You let out a squeak in surprise, but giggled, reciprocating it immediately. Your worries were gone in an instant, just as Katsuki had predicted. 

“Ah, where are my manners! Call me Mitsuki, I’m the brat’s mother.” she says warmly, much to Katsuki’s disdain as he objects to the nickname; Mitsuki ignores him as if he wasn’t there though. 

You laugh at your pouty boyfriend’s reaction and give her your name, smiling back at her like she was an old friend. 

“Masaru! She’s here~!” Mitsuki practically sings, clutching onto your arm, leading you into the kitchen with Katsuki trailing behind like a lost puppy. 

She turns to you again. “So glad you’re here dear, the brat needs someone to keep his head out of his ass.” she says, rolling her eyes for emphasis. 

You snort at that, completely at ease as Mitsuki treats you like the daughter she never had.

You see a timid man in the kitchen, who is most likely Masaru, Katsuki’s dad. 

You both greet each other, the brunette man much calmer than his wife, and he smiles at you and squeezes your shoulder as an awkward show of affection. While you two converse, however, Katsuki is already at war with his mother, both Masaru and yourself just stand by the island silent; you both know the drill. 

“SHUT UP YOU OLD HAG- STOP SMOTHERING MY GIRLFRIEND!” Katsuki yells.

“DON’T TALK TO YOUR MOTHER LIKE THAT KATSUKI, YOU KNOW DAMN WELL THAT GIRL IS AN ANGEL FOR STICKING WITH THAT BRATTY ASS OF YOURS.” Mitsuki retorts, irate. 

You and Masaru look at each other, the latter mouthing to you if you wanted to help set the table, to which you nodded vehemently, unsure of what to do as the angry blonde duo continue to yell at each other. 

Setting the table, you and Masaru trade stories of how you’ve both had to wrangle your respective partners to make sure they didn’t murder anyone, the both of you breaking into laughter as he recounts a story of how he once had to physically pick up his wife by the waist and haul her out of an ice cream store because they messed up his order. 

You thought it was completely adorable, seeing how much Katsuki took after Mitsuki, telling Masaru of a similar story of when you and Katsuki went to a carnival, and you got scammed during one of the games. 

Eventually the two blondes calmed down, joining you and Masaru in the dining room, where the food was all plated and ready to be eaten. 

Midway through the conversation, you feel Katsuki’s hand slide over to squeeze yours under the table, a small gesture that you knew meant I told you so.

You refrain from rolling your eyes, enjoying the company of the Bakugous. The night seemed to drag on for ages (his words, not yours), and you found yourself blending in seamlessly in with Katsuki’s parents. And though he would never admit it, it warmed his heart to see someone he loved so much get along so well with his family. Things were going smoothly, until something Mitsuki says catches you off guard. 

“So, when are you going to put a ring on her finger, huh brat?”

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Idol!Han Jisung x F!Reader TW : cheating ; breakup ; regret ; very angsty ; surprise pregnancy ; Word Count : 3.5k Request : it was the winner of the poll, does that count? A/N : Here we go!! Gonna make this one hurt!

You sat on the couch, knee bouncing, phone in your hand, watching as the clock at the top of your lock screen switched to 3 in the morning. Not a single text, not a call, nothing from the man whose selfie adorned your lock screen with his puffy cheeks and his adorable smile that you fell in love with every single time he flashed it at you. You had gotten nothing since he had left for the award show almost 9 hours ago, the award show that you had watched from start to finish, even catching the moment when all of the artists had gotten up to start heading out. He wasn’t there anymore… But he sure as hell wasn’t home. 

Maybe he just went back to the dorms… Was what you had thought at first, just a simple thought to try to ease your mind and keep you from thinking the worst, but if that were the case you were sure that he would have texted you to let you know instead of keeping you up all night waiting for some type of communication. Had something bad happened? No, you would have seen it on the news and you were sure that you would have heard something by now. No… He was just ignoring you… Maybe he was just drunk. 

Either way, you wanted to call him just to be sure, especially since you were tired of waiting around for him. You dialed his number and let it ring, and maybe you should have hung up after the third ring to save yourself the heartache that came once the phone was answered. Not by him though, by someone else… You wished it had been one of the guys, but it wasn’t… It was a girl, one that sounded drunk and flustered and… God, you didn’t even want to think about the sinful noises that were made between each word as you heard your fiance's drunken giggles in the background mixed with his own noises… Noises that you had heard on multiple occasions when you were the one sharing the bed with him. 

“Sorry… wrong number…” You had mumbled, trying to hold back the sobs that were caught in your throat, feeling like they were going to choke you completely. You couldn’t breathe, your vision was a blur, the room felt like it was spinning, but you knew that the nauseous feeling wasn’t from being dizzy… No… it was from knowing that the man that you had planned on spending the rest of your life with, the man that you were willing to devote the rest of your life to was lower than low… And the men that you had trusted to look out for you like brothers look out for their sisters had most likely cheered on that man when he took another woman into his bedroom. 

It was hard to remember when you fell asleep, but you knew that you didn’t do it on purpose considering you woke up on the couch the next morning curled up in the fetal position. Your eyelids felt heavy and the sunlight that poured in through the open window burned your sensitive eyes that had been draining tears like a faucet the night before. “Looks like someone fell asleep while watching the award show. You’re so cute, shnookems.” Jisungs voice sounded out from somewhere close by, although your sleep and tear blurred vision made it hard to focus on where he truly was. 

You would have just thought that the night before was a bad dream, just some awful nightmare that you had since he wasn’t at home next to you, but when he let out that quiet little giggle it brought you back to the phone call and you felt sick all over again. “I hate you…” You said as flatly as possible, wiping the sleep from your eyes to finally focus on him, the way his smile faded to a look of shock at what you had said. “Don’t… Don’t talk to me… I hate you… I’m done with you.” 

Not even a good morning, nothing to start the day so that you could lead into the breakup. You went straight for it, diving headfirst into the conversation. “Wh-What are you talking about? Babe, come on… That’s… That’s not funny. Come on… You must have had a bad dream or something… let’s get you some coffee.” He stammered, pushing himself up off the recliner to walk over to where you were now sitting up on the couch, fresh tears already brewing on your bottom lashes. 

His hands were outstretched, waiting for you to grab them or maybe even take your place between his arms, but you smacked them away, shaking your head as you glared up at him. “You’re shit! You’re a lousy, no good, cheater! And don’t you even try to lie to me and say that you didn’t because I fucking heard you, Jisung!” You shouted, although your voice cracked on multiple occasions. You were devastated, heartbroken, but most of all you were pissed. 

So badly you wanted him to deny it, to tell you that it wasn’t true, but his hesitation and the look of guilt that washed over his features was enough for you to know that it hadn’t been a bad dream, that what you heard was real. “Babe… Let’s just… Can we talk about it?” He whispered, keeping his hands at his sides although you could see in the way that they were twitching that he wanted nothing more than to hold you, although you would have just pushed him away if he tried to. 

“Talk about what? I don’t want to hear lies or excuses. I heard enough last night. I waited up for you after the fucking show, I waited until 3 in the goddamn morning… And I called you… And some… Some other girl answered and I… I fucking heard everything. You disgust me! I want nothing to do with you!” You finally pushed yourself off the couch, trying to move past him, but his arms wrapped around you, trying so hard to keep you from walking away. “Don’t! Don’t touch me!” You screamed, pushing him away from you. 

It seemed so hypocritical for him to be crying right now, especially since you were the one that had been cheated on, but alas, the tears that flowed down your cheeks were perfectly mirrored on his face. “I was drunk! I was drunk and I know that’s not an excuse, but I really… I truly didn’t mean it! I swear to god, I didn’t!” He sobbed, taking tiny steps towards you, but for each small step that he took, you took two more back. “Baby… please… I love you so fucking much… I… I can’t breathe… I just… I need to know that things will be okay. I can��� I’m sorry… If you need space, I can do that… Just don’t… Don’t leave me… Please.” 

“How…” You scoffed, shaking your head, laughing in both shock and disbelief at the audacity that he had to even try to plead. “How can you possibly be so fucking selfish? You don’t have the right to tell me not to leave after you cheated on me. I’m done. We’re over. You can…” You pulled the ring from your finger, the ring that you promised that you’d never take off… But that was before all this, before you knew how he really was. “You can have this back, I don’t want it. I don’t want any parts of you. I’m so fucking glad that this happened before I was dumb enough to marry you.” You threw the ring to the floor right at his feet, the diamond facets reflecting the light of the sun. “Don’t call me, don’t text me, don’t try to have one of the guys try to get in touch with me either. I don’t want anything to do with you or anything that you do once I walk out that door.” 

“Then don’t walk out…” The words rushed out as he swiped the ring off the floor and ran over to where you were standing. “I’m stupid… I’m so stupid. I don’t want to lose this… I don’t want to lose you. One chance… I just want one chance to prove to you that… That I didn’t mean to do it, I’ll never do it again. It was a mistake!” 

“Would you just stop already?!” You hissed, whipping around on your heel to face him as he followed you into the bedroom. “This is hard enough for me, and I don’t need you hounding me about how sad you are because you fucked up. You don’t deserve a second chance, you don’t deserve anymore chances because you’re a cheater, and once a cheater, always a cheater. So either help me pack my shit up so I can get the fuck away from you, or go sit and wallow in your self pity in the living room while I do it myself.” 

///

“So you’re not gonna say anything about it? You’re not even gonna tell him?” Soobin asked as he sat across from you in the little cafe. He had been your savior since you had left Jisung, allowing you to crash in the dorms at night until it got to the point where he eventually just told you that you might as well live there. He and the rest of the boys rarely ever saw the ones that you were trying to avoid unless they were on music shows, but Jisung was none the wiser that you, Soobin, and the rest of the guys had gotten so close. It made it easy to stay with them and practically hide out in their dorm until you made enough money to get a place of your own. 

“Soob… With all due respect, I haven’t even had the time to process it myself, and the last thing I want to deal with is my ex fiance coming back into my life when it’s been turned upside down once again.” You retorted, running your hands over your face as you let out a loud sigh. “I’ve got so much shit that I have to figure out, and I have less than 4 months to do it. I’m stressed enough as it is… I don’t need him to add onto that.” 

It was crazy, but you were pregnant, and to find out when you were already 5 months along was even crazier. You hadn’t gained any weight that you knew about, and even if you did gain anything, it wasn’t enough for you to think that it was from anything but maybe eating a little bit more than you usually would. You had experienced no symptoms at all, and you were so stressed with life itself that you hadn’t even cared for the fact that you might have missed a few periods, you even accompanied the lateness to the overload of stress. 

It wasn’t until you felt something weird, the movement in your stomach, that you asked Yeonjun to take you to the hospital because you had for some reason assumed that you had somehow gotten worms. “But it would be his kid, right? I mean… Doesn’t he have the right to know? I’m not telling you to do it now… But… I mean… it’s his kid.” Soobin tried to reason with you, and you hated that you had decided to confide in one of the two level headed ones in the group, but he was also easier to talk with and you were closer with him than the others. 

“I’m not going to hide it from him… I’m just not ready to tell him yet. Let me work this out in my own head first and then I’ll drop the bomb on him.” Although you weren’t sure if you actually wanted to tell him. Sure, it was his child, but you also didn’t want to have to deal with sharing custody of this surprise child with your cheating ex. It would be so much easier to just raise the baby yourself and if anyone asked, you could just say that it was someone else’s, although that felt morally wrong… But then again, what Jisung did was morally wrong as well. “I’ve got to figure out housing, I’ve got to tell my boss… It’s a lot… I don’t want to deal with him right now.” 

Soobin nodded, humming understandingly as he reached across the table, placing his hand over top of yours that was drumming nervously against the wooden top. “It is a lot, and that’s why me and the guys are going to help you. You can continue staying at the dorms, even after the baby is born if you don’t find a place soon enough. We will help you.” And maybe it was the hormones that caused it, but the kindness of his words and the softness in his eyes had you uncontrollably weeping in the tiny cafe. “Oh boy… Uhm… Come on… Let’s get you back home.” 

///

Jisung sat in the interview chair, his mind cloudy from lack of sleep. Promotional tours and mini shows had him exhausted, and working on the new album kept him busier than he usually would be. He was thankful for it though, unable to think too much about his mistakes, having no time to think about you and what you might be doing. He missed you, but it was clear from the lack of texts or calls back that you didn’t feel the same. Maybe you had blocked him, and he wouldn’t blame you if you did, but it would be better that way so you wouldn’t have to read the texts that he sent you daily about how sorry he was and how much he loved you. 

“Are you ready to start?” The interviewer asked, and all the guys nodded in unison, all except Jisung who was trying his best to just keep his head from falling forward and dozing off. “Great! So, my first question is for Han…” The sound of his name had his eyes shooting open, pretending that he wasn’t on the verge of passing out right then and there, nodding to let the interviewer know that she could keep going. “So, we’ve all read the headlines and, we’ve come up with our own conclusions regarding some recent events in your life…” The vagueness had Jisung lowering his eyebrows questioningly, waiting for her to get to her point, but a part of him had a sinking feeling on where the question was going. “How do you feel about your ex fiancee being seen out on dates with another idol?” 

Jisung wasn’t very up to date on current news, especially in the world of music considering he had his own headlines to make with the upcoming album. He hadn’t seen anything about you being out on dates with anyone, especially another idol, and he surely hadn’t heard about it in his little circle of other famous friends. He wasn’t even sure if what the interviewer was saying was true, but if it was, his genuine reaction would be heartbroken, but he had to play it off like he wasn’t. “Well, we’ve been apart for… For a while now and… Well, if whoever she’s with is making her happy, who am I to be upset about that. I want nothing but the best for her and whoever she may be with…” He said, trying his best to sound confident, but he was already getting choked up and he felt his eyes glossing over as tears threatened to fall. “Can we take a quick break? I’m sorry.” 

Minho was quick to follow behind the younger man who had rushed into the closest corner as he tried to cry as quietly as possible, which was quite hard, and it felt like all the eyes in the room were on him right now. “Hey… Hey, come on man. Calm down. We don’t even know if it was Y/N that was in whatever pictures that the interviewer was talking about. It could have been anyone, and you know that sometimes interviewers say things to try to get certain reactions out of us. It’s okay…” He tried to pat Jisungs shoulder in an attempt to calm him down, but when the younger man turned around he was an absolute wreck. 

“But what if it is her? I know it’s been months, and I know I fucked up, but I don’t want her with anyone else. I want to be the one to make her happy and take her on dates. I want to be the one that comes home to her at night and cuddles up next to her.” Minho grimaced at the cringy images that were being painted in his mind right now, but he tried to hide it, he was really trying to be there for Jisung even though he knew what had happened, and if asked to take a side, although not in front of Jisung, he would take yours in a heartbeat. “What other idol would do that? I’m so nice to everyone… Who would take her from me like that? Why?” 

Minho shook his head, taking a deep breath through his nose and letting it out slowly. “I think you’re getting way ahead of yourself. You need to calm down and finish the interview, and then we’ll go home and work things out after we figure out what is going on. Okay?” Minho offered, and in the back of his mind he was hoping that whoever it was in the picture wasn’t you because that would surely only make things worse, and Minho didn’t want to see Jisung worse than what he was right now. 

///

“What are you talking about?” Soobin asked, and you turned the corner of the hall to look at him, about to open your mouth to question what he was talking about or who he was talking to, but he quickly lifted his finger to his lips in a motion for you to stay silent, which you quickly obliged to. “Jisung, she’s not here. I don’t know what pictures you thought you saw, but I really think you’re freaking out for no reason.” He put his phone on speaker so you could listen, and part of you wished that he hadn’t because hearing Jisung put two and two together was making you freak out just as much as he was. 

“I’m not freaking out for no reason!” Jisungs shrill voice screeched through the speakers of Soobins phone. “I know what my fiancee looks like! I’ve had multiple photos taken of her and I like that! I know that’s her! Why are you with her?! You took her from me!” He continued shouting, and you could hear his voice breaking at the end of each sentence and then the heavy shaking breaths as he tried to catch his breath between crying and speaking. 

Soobin shook his head, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Clearly Jisung wasn’t going to back down, and you didn’t want Soobins life to be made harder by Jisungs constant badgering, so just as Soobin was about to speak, you spoke up. “He didn’t take me from you.” You stated matter-of-factly, and Soobins mouth fell open as silence filled Jisungs end of the line. “You cheated on me. You caused this. And you can stop attacking him. It’s not like we’re together, I’m not with anyone right now because I’ve got bigger things to deal with and handle then finding someone else to be in my life.” 

You heard Jisung gasp, and then the shuffle of feet as he seemingly ran off somewhere, maybe somewhere more private, or maybe somewhere where all of the guys were, you weren’t quite sure. “Why… Why are you hiding from me? Why are you ignoring me? I just want to see you… I just… I need to see you. I fucked things up, I get that… But… Maybe we can be friends… I still want you in my life, Y/N…” He whispered, and it made it clear that wherever he went, it was far away from anyone and everyone. “Can we just meet up or something? I can even come over to their dorms if you don’t want to be alone with me… Just… Something, anything… please?” 

You looked around the dorm that was littered with boxes from nursery furniture, a stockpile of diapers, wipes, and baby bottles and powdered formula just so that you’d be ready. There was no way in hell that he’d be able to come over here and see you without figuring out what was going on. “No… I… I don’t want to see you.” You muttered, biting your bottom lip, and for some reason, foolishly waiting for Jisung to understand. 

“Well… I don’t care. I want to see you and… And I’m coming over. I’m coming over to see you dammit.” He said, and before you or Soobin could argue against it, the call had ended, leaving you and Soobin to stare at each other with panicked eyes. This wouldn’t end well… There’s no way it could. 

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[unformula1]

perfect little moment (LN4 x Reader)

perfect little moment (LN4 x Reader) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Yea, duh, this luggage is my baby.” You said, still hugging tightly onto it. “Am I not your baby too?” Lando says, exasperated. “No.” You sass him back. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ pairing: lando norris x reader w/c: 701  a/n: the poll isn’t over but Lando deserves one more to his name. Short little fic. Have fun!!!!!!!! also this is absolutely not proofread. masterlist ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ taglist: no one yet lol. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You open the door to your room and run directly into the bed, jumping up and landing on the bed with a little bounce. You lay there motionless, soaking in all the comfort of the fluffy bed. 

“You gonna stay there and become one with the bed,” Lando scoffs, leaning in the doorframe, “Or you gonna come and help me carry your shit in.”

You lift your head from the bed and turn around to face Lando, “It’s a luggage, you just gotta push it in.”

Lando does so and the luggage comes rolling in, it comes to a slow halt and falls to its side. A loud bang follows.

“HEY!” You shout, hopping off the bed and running to your luggage, giving it a hug.

Lando stares at you in utter disbelief, “You are kidding me.”

You hug your luggage like it’s a baby and shoot Lando a glare.

“You love that luggage more than you love me!” Lando rolls his eyes and closes the door behind him as he walks in.

“Yea, duh, this luggage is my baby.” You say, still hugging tightly onto it.

“Am I not your baby too?” Lando says, exasperated.

“No.” You sass him back.

“Fine.” Lando says, “I’ll cancel the fancy dinner!”

“HEY! NO!” You protest, lunging yourself at him.

He dodges you and starts hastily pressing things on his phone screen.

“HEY! I yield. I yield. You’re my baby.” You say, raising your hands up, surrendering.

Lando flashes you a cheeky smile and keeps his phone.

You roll your eyes and crawl over to him, planting a kiss on his cheek. His entire face flushes red and he hurries to cover it, hiding it away from you.

You let out a mischievous sounding chuckle before going closer and kissing him again.

He hides his face even more which makes you want to kiss his face even more.

“You don’t have to hide it!!” You whine, “I’ve seen it enough times!”

Lando shakes his head, refusing to show you his face, keeping it buried deep into his hands. He slowly turns away from you, his back now facing you as he 

A soft chuckle escapes as you wrap your arms from behind Lando which causes a little squirm from him as his muscles tense up. After a few seconds, Lando processes it and his body relaxes as it falls into yours.

He makes himself comfortable within your arms and melts in there under the warmth of your hands.

Your hands gently stroke through his curls and it makes him chuckle, finally revealing his face and looking up at you. It’s bright pink, like a barbie level of pink. Hot HOT pink.

“You look good.” You comment, throwing him a wink.

“Shut up.�� He mumbles before sitting up and pushing his face to be closer to yours.

You’re inches apart. The only logical thing to do right now would be to kiss him.

So you do.

You kiss him on the lips and he kisses you back. It lasts a few seconds, a few bloody good seconds. 

You two part and he’s almost out of breath which makes him catch his breath as much as he can. He stares into your eyes.

His eyes look gorgeous. His eyelashes are beautiful too. You don’t think you’ll ever shut up about how good his eyes look, especially when they’re gazing into yours, especially when he looks lost in his own thoughts.

“I’m saying we cancel the dinner tonight.” You suggest as Lando lays his head in your lap.

Lando lets out a lazy sounding mmkay before snuggling tighter into your lap.

“Stay in tonight, order takeout, watch a movie.” You continue.

Lando gives you a nod back as he takes his phone and hands it to you to order.

“You’re such a baby.” You chuckle.

“Your baby.”

“Mhm…my baby.”

Everything about Lando should be imperfect, he’s rash, impulsive, wild, chaotic, messy, immature, the list could go on forever. Nothing in the world ever made you think this relationship would be perfect, nothing is perfect. Everything on this Earth is imperfect but it's the perfect little moments like these that make you cherish whatever you have with Lando.

[crystalflygeo]

Last of her kind Emperor!Alpha!Zhongli + Slave!Omega!Dragoness!Reader-

cw/tags: mentions of slavery and past sexual abuse on fem!reader, A/B/O dynamics, mating bites, fingering, scenting, pet names, zhongli has a knot and alpha fangs and is not afraid to use them lmao, some nip and clit stimulation ig?? emotional roller coaster ngl.

notes: So remember a loooong time ago when I held a poll and one of the options was "dragon" and it WON?? well actually it was this, (dragon READER heh) it just got WAY out of control. 5.6k words and now I wanna make it into a whole series //head in hands// anyway ye have this weird lil funky AU I poured my sweat blood and tears into (also my heart and soul) idk why I am just so attached I love it so much plsss I have ideas fot other scenes with them already aaaaaaaaa <3

Partially inspired by some of @silentmoths' fics holy shIT I LOVE DRAGON READER AND I LOVE OMEGAVERSE NOD IF YOU AGREE!!

Last but not least if y'all wanna be part of my pinglist uhh I'm making one now so :3c

Part 2 ->

Strange yellow leaves fall around you all over the courtyard…

“Fix your clothes, you have to look appealing… well, as appealing as a creature like you can be.” The voice of your Master calls out harshly, pulling and tugging at details in your outfit. It was a flimsy and silky thing, mostly see-through, rather elegant, but very revealing.

You’re used to it.

“And stop looking so miserable! You better smile and please this Alpha. He’s not just anyone, you know?”

You nod meekly, trying to hide the slight trembling on your body. This will be just another bonding attempt. Nothing else.

It will fail. Just like all the others before.

Silver chains clink and tug the collar at your neck, it shakes you back to the present as you stumble forward.

Master guides you through a maze of corridors, with sleek surfaces of dark wood, decorative lanterns and paper screens. They’re strange, covered in even stranger symbols that look nothing like the ones back in the desert. Your bare feet, used to rough hot sand, now walk along polished wood with your draconic tail dragging behind. Everything looks so lavish…

You’ve been brought all the way to Li- Liu-… Li-yue? A foreign country, to meet a potential client. Well, a client to your Master. You are just the merchandise: a dragonblood Omega. Rare, unique even, “exotic”.

But defective.

Your fists clench in nervousness. How rough will this Alpha be with you? You dread to find the answer. Alphas were cruel, ever since you remember you’ve been taught to please, be gentle, obedient and look pretty, but they were never any of those things. Alphas just took their pleasure and used your body as they wanted, usually until you were crying and screaming, begging for mercy. You just hope this Alpha would give you some pity and be quick… or give you time to rest in between attempts.

Though you had learned since long that your wishes don’t tend to come true.

What a disappointment. After I spent so much money and resources on you.

Such a waste of time, what use is there in an Omega that can’t bond?

Why do I even bother with you? You’re just good for the reproduction camp. Maybe that way you can produce another dragonblood.

This is your last chance, mutt. If you fail again, I won’t be bothering with you anymore.

You feel anxiety creeping on your chest, heart jumping to your throat as the dark thoughts invade your mind. Last chance… your last chance at bonding. At proving you’re not useless and stupid. At serving your purpose as Omega. What was happening to you was fair. You deserve to be punished and you should be grateful you have one last chance after all your failures.

You just want to… to…

Tears prickle at your eyes and you breathe in deeply, trying to contain your distress and hugging your own tail, rubbing your face on the fluffy tip.

Whatever happens today, your fate is going to be sealed.

The nest room is nice.

Like the rest of the place, it is rather elegant, dimly lit with neutral colors and wooden walls, filled with pillows and blankets that had a very subtle flowery aroma to them. Small cabinets to one side with some decorative objects on top and a full-length mirror on the other side. So much different from the barren cold stone walls and tents from the desert camps.

“Hm, pretty fancy.” Master says taking off your collar, your soft unblemished neck now on display, free from any claim. “Now…” He pulls at your hair and you wince, whining and lowering your ears on a submissive display. He wouldn’t hurt you right? You have to look pretty. “The emperor will be here shortly. Make sure to do anything and everything he wants. And you better smile, I told you.”

“E-Emperor?” You pale, eyes widening.

He scoffs and pushes you back, you stumble back into the mess of pillows. “That’s right. I don’t know why but he was very adamant to see you it seems. Perhaps he just wants the prestige of owning the last known dragonblood, hm? Another novelty for his collection, I’m sure. You should consider yourself really lucky. So…” He flashes his Alpha fangs at you with a growl and you whimper again, cowering. “I would suggest you do your best and don’t disappoint this time, he’ll pay a pretty penny for you.”

And with that he leaves, muttering something and almost slamming the strange sliding door.

And so, you’re alone.

Immediately your brain goes into overdrive. An emperor? You had been presented to various Alphas of high status before, wealthy merchants and high-ranking tribe members, but this… this was probably a whole other level.

An emperor had to have an empress, right? Someone of noble birth and high status such as himself, not a lowly sand lizard like you, with weird ears, scales, horns and a tail. Why would he want to see an Omega like you? Perhaps Master was right, he intended to keep you as a trophy in his collection, another pretty thing.

It was humiliating.

But anything was better than being doomed to the reproduction camp…

Maybe the emperor had a harem? You’ve heard of them before, some Alphas liked to boast having many Omegas bound to them. Living in this luxury, not having to worry about much anything except looking pretty and pleasing him once a while. Hell, maybe he wouldn’t even pay attention to you, you’d be just a glorified pet.

You could… do that.

Without noticing, your tail starts swaying after you, this could be a chance. Your chance. You just had to make him like you. Forget the bond. Don’t think about it. All you have to do is please him.

You start frantically arranging the sheets and pillows around, building the comfiest nest you ever had with all the extra material, scenting it with excited happy pheromones. You could do it, this was your chance.

You won’t fail this time. You’ll be pretty, obedient, submissive, the ideal Omega. You’ll let him use you to his heart’s content, sure you may be a little sore but it’ll be worth it if he chooses you. He won’t even care about the bond.

…Right?

You jolt when you hear the door slide slightly open again, your heart leaps to your throat as someone walks in.

Oh.

Is… he the emperor? … He’s handsome.

To be fully honest, you expected some fat pompous middle-aged man not this… perfect specimen of an Alpha.

Your tail sways a little with curiosity.

He looks only slightly older than you, tall, wearing elegant robes in brown and golden hues. His eyes are like a sunset: golden, warm, almost glowing. A red liner accentuating them. Long chocolate hair faded to amber at the tips. His scent was earthy and pleasant, subtle unlike most Alpha musk. Almost comforting and… familiar?

He seems to stare back at you with the same surprise, frozen for a moment, eyes slightly wide, he says something you can’t quite hear and it shakes you out of the spell. You suddenly feel a little self-conscious, curling your tail around you, ears down and resisting the urge to brush (hide) the scales at the corners of your eyes.

It occurs to you that you’ve been just staring like an idiot, you don’t know very well how to address him, nor know his foreign tongue. So, you simply lower your head in respect. “My Lord…”

You suddenly feel nervous. This is it.

You turn around, following the motions ingrained in your brain. Body splayed on the nest, arms tucked in, head down. Submissive, obedient. Your hands are shaking, you feel dizzy, heart thrumming in your chest, blood rushing in your ears.

You lift your butt just slightly, tail curling elegantly over your back, out of the way to expose the flimsy fabric covering your privates, properly presenting to the Alpha. You focus on trying to control your pheromones, letting out just whiffs of a needy sensual scent, worried of mixing in your anxiety and fear and displeasing the emperor.

You had to be pretty, enticing, compliant, and he would, h-he would…

A rather awkward cough has you tense. “There is… no need for that.”

You blink for a moment, taken aback at the rich deep baritone of his voice, so hypnotizing you almost don’t register his words. He speaks common tongue, but still, what does he mean? Isn’t this just… standard protocol for bonding? Isn’t he going to mount you?

You dare peek over your shoulder and see him sitting elegantly over his knees at the floor. He’s outside of the nest range.

He’s also slightly pink at the cheeks and pointedly avoiding looking at you.

Is this a trap? Is he testing you to see if you’ll misbehave? Your hands clench, nails digging at your palms, your breathing and heart increasing pace.

“I just want to talk, I promise.” He tries.

You hold the position.

He sighs, and then-

“Omega, relax.”

You almost squeak at the Alpha command. His voice, his will, seeps into your skin, your nerves, your very bones. You feel your muscles loosen up, tension leaving your body like a bowstring snapping and you lie on the sheets sideways.

Right right right, you’re tense, you have to be soft and pliant-

You look over at him and he’s… heading over to the little cabinets. He picks up a kettle of some kind and little cups that sit on the top, moving around calmly and elegantly as he seems to prepare something. Your head tilts and you gingerly sit up straight. Tail and ears down, curled up not unlike a wounded animal.

“Do you speak the common tongue?”

“Y-Yes!” You nod. “A little…”

“Good.”

The emperor seems… pleasant, he is calm and unguarded, so different from the cold intimidating Alphas you’ve met who like to show off, who immediately order you around. He even used an Alpha command on you but it felt… grounding. There is something equally eerie and entrancing about him and you feel yourself as much drawn to him as terrified of his imposing aura, and you couldn’t explain why. It’s a bit unsettling but also comforting at the same time.

He pours two cups and turns to you. You stiffen and he offers you one.

“Qixing tea is one of the most refined Liyue teas. It tends to be very bitter but this blend has a more pleasant taste, a little floral even. It is also said to help relax one’s mind.”

You carefully take the cup, not wanting to insult such gracious offer, though you’re utterly confused, shouldn’t you be the one serving him?

The cup is warm.

You stare at the golden liquid, small black dots sit at the bottom. This has no alcohol… right? It can’t be worse than snake wine at least.

You carefully take a sip, trying to imitate how the emperor is holding his.

It is… nice, a strong sharp taste but not bad, and very aromatic.

He’s looking at you expectantly and your tail and ears twitch. “I-It’s very good. Thank you, my Lord.”

He smiles and your heart skips a beat. “I am glad. Some say Qixing tea is for older people, but it’s frankly one of my favorites.” He stares at his cup with a somewhat nostalgic gaze, as if it brings him fond memories. “Ah, you can address me as Morax.”

You nod quietly and take another sip. Past the tea’s powerful flowery scent, you can now sense his Alpha pheromones, with him being so close and the air less tense. They’re strong but not overwhelmingly so, sharp and tantalizing, a refined foreign scent you can almost taste in the back of your throat. It stirs something in you, something warm and alluring.

“Do you know where were you born? Who are your parents?”

The question takes you by surprise for a moment as you shake out of your thoughts. Ah, he must be inquiring about your dragonblood. “I-I’m…. I’m not sure, my Lo- um… L-Lord Morax. As far as I know my mother worked at a-a heat house… no one knew who my father was and she passed away when I was very young.”

“I see… so you have no idea where you got your dragon traits from.” It was a sentence rather than a question and you shake your head meekly, taking another sip from the tea, ears lowering back.

“Apparently it could be due to recessive genes.” You once again repeat the same words you’ve heard all your life. You hate bringing attention to your dragon features, people either treat you like a rare exotic creature or a dangerous one. You didn’t know which was worse.

“Hmmm…” Lord Morax seems pensive for a moment, also drinking some of the tea. “Have you been with your caretaker for long?”

You look down. “Master has been in charge of me ever since I… p-presented as an Omega.”

“Does he treat you well?”

Your eyes widen, the question catching you completely by surprise. T-Treat you well? You are… treated like any other slave omega, if only being singled out by your draconic traits. He feeds you, he gives you clothing and education, he arranges the best matches he can for bonding, he even got you here in the first place. You owe him everything, you’re nothing without him.

So then… Why do you find yourself thinking back on all the harsh words, all the punishments, all the screaming and crying, all the… t-touches…

You gulp. “M-Master ensures I have the best living conditions and opportunities I can.” Is what you settle for.

He hums.

There is silence for a moment and lord Morax settles down his cup.

“I don’t think you’re aware of how special you are.”

Just when you thought he couldn’t surprise you anymore, he utters those words and makes your heart speed up.

Is this anxiety? Fear?

“Judging from what your Master has told me, you’re treated like quite the novelty, an exotic half-blood not unlike the Valuka Shuna or Kätzlein. Here in Liyue however those with traits like yours are called Xiānshòu.” The foreign word rolls off his tongue. His golden eyes fix on you and you freeze. “Also known as illuminated beasts. With immense power and longevity, even the half-bloods. They’re well respected and looked up to, why, some are even revered as deities...”

You? Such a fantastic creature? That can’t be…

“Seems to me like things are different in the deserts of Sumeru, however.” His eyes narrow and for the first time you notice his diamond pupils. They look like a snake’s. The same eerie glint he had a few minutes ago is back darkening the bright golden eyes. Yet, for some strange reason you don’t feel scared this time.

A shiver travels down your spine as you feel your instincts purr in delight. Protective… for some reason lord Morax is being protective of you. You don’t know why or how but you can feel it and it made your inner Omega preen inside. An Alpha wanted to protect you, care for you.

“Such a shame.” He adds, sounding almost disappointed but there is something darker underneath. Word simmering with… frustration? “You are such a lovely dragoness, worthy of every praise and prayer they’d sign in your name here.”

You’re very glad your cup rests at your lap, blushing furiously with trembling hands.

For the next few moments, he continued to ask some more questions. What you like or dislike, what you do in your free time, even something as innocuous as your favorite color. Time seemed to stretch into infinity as you grew a little more comfortable with your answers and the whole situation, as though you weren’t talking to an emperor, or even a potential master or Alpha but rather… someone who saw you for who you are.

You liked that. You liked him.

You wanted to stay with him.

You wished to-

“Alright, I think that’s enough. I will have a talk with your Master and we’ll settle things.” He stands up and dusts his attire a little.

Your breath stops.

He is leaving.

He is leaving.

Did you do something wrong? Didn’t he say he liked your appearance? Are you such a failed disgraceful omega? Your last chance at bonding. You didn’t even get to impress him. You want to call out to him, do something, anything. Panic rises in your chest, drowning you, freezing you. You can barely think, instincts screaming, begging, wailing in despair for him. This kind Alpha, this gentle, patient, imposing, majestic Alpha who’s too good for you and yet something deep inside you yearns for him…!

“I am very glad to have met you little xiānshòu.” A small smile tugs at his lips. Then, he turns and heads for the sliding doors.

So, you do the first thing that comes to your mind.

The empty cup falls from your hands, your footsteps thump loudly on the wooden floors, soft fabric clenches between your fingers.

As soft as the lips you crash yours onto.

…

It only lasts a few seconds but when you back just a little, ears low and tail curled up in apprehension, you realize what you did.

You’d kissed him, you’d kissed the emperor.

You’re shaking like a leaf, clinging to him for dear life. He stares at you with wide surprised eyes but you’d rather die right here for your insolence than live the rest of your days in regret.

His scent takes on an alluring hint to it and your inner Omega is overjoyed. Up so close it is almost irresistible. His face remains impassive, if a little tense, but you can see in his eyes something you identify very well… hunger, desire.

“Lord Morax… t-the nest… please.”

“Y-You don’t have to-”

“Please! Allow me to please you, allow me to show you…how…” You whisper against his lips, leaning in again as your eyes flutter close.

And suddenly his hands wrap around you and pull you close, cupping your face, curling at your waist, there’s something possessive in it and you feel slight vibrations as he growls deep from his chest against your mouth. But there is also something sweet, something delicate…

And for once, you want more. You want this.

How did you end up here? In the most beautiful nest you’d ever constructed, with the most handsome, kind, caring Alpha you’d ever met?

His kisses are deep and slow, completely unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. You lie on the soft sheets as he looms over you, exploring your mouth with an unhurried pace, hungry yet not forceful, letting you timidly do the same at your own pace.

This is nice…

His hands run along your body, caressing your skin through your flimsy attire. His touch curious but gentle.

“May I?” He asks, tugging at the fabric off your shoulder.

You shiver, at his voice, as the pure want in it, in his eyes, in his scent.

“Y-yes my lord…”

“Hmm…” His kisses trail down your jaw down to your neck as he starts pulling the garments off. Careful, instead of simply ripping them apart, your heart skips a beat. “If we’re going to do this, you can use my name and not just titles…”

Your top falls off and goosebumps litter your skin, nipples pebbled as one of his hands cups your breast.

“M-Morax…” You try, shakily, as if testing out the word alone on your lips.

“No, little one. Zhongli. That is my name.” He kisses down your shoulders, nipping at the skin.

“Ah!” Your tail flickers around and you purr.

You take the initiative to kiss him this time, and your hands start roaming his foreign clothes, fumbling with knots and pawing at the fabric. He chuckles at your frustrated whine. You want more, more of this feeling, more of him. To touch his skin, cover him in kisses, worship him.

(Show him what a good Omega you can be.)

No…

You want to make him feel good and please him.

Elegant fabric falls down discarded as he shakes off the layers of his top and you blink surprised. The fabric was bulky and covered up his figure. Lean but muscled, tantalizing like honey. You immediately latch onto him, nosing, scenting, nipping and kissing, feeling the faint outline of his abs and muscles twitch under your touch. He smells so good, he feels so good…

Your Omega instincts are starting to cloud your senses more and more.

Suddenly one of his hands gently squeezes a soft breast and you moan at the sudden touch “O-Oh!”

“You’re sensitive here, do you like this?” He asks, massaging your chest.

You whimper and nod frantically, tail wagging behind you. You had never been this responsive to having your chest played with, though then again, it was rare… but his sensual touches were quickly undoing you. Wetness pools at your gut and you rub your legs together.

Lord Mor- Zhongli… leans down then and something wet flicks over your nipple making you gasp, before warmth surrounds your nub. You cry out even louder. He sucks and laps at it and you instinctively tangle your hands on his hard dark hair, your legs wrapping around his waist.

You groan again, too many layers on the way.

“C-clothes… off, please!”

“As you wish, my dear dragoness.”

He continues squeezing, kissing, caressing and lapping at your skin, leaving a couple of hickeys along the way and teasing his Alpha fangs against you as his attention descends through your body once more, continuing his trail of kisses along your hip. His fingers dip down the waistband of your mesh pants and when you raise your hips to help, he pulls them down.

You’ve been naked in front of others more times than you’d like to count. But there’s something oddly intimate and special about this situation right now.

Your ears lower in apprehension, and your tail flicks by your side, resisting the urge to cover up. Lying down with your legs slightly spread around him. Already flushed, sweaty and panting.

“…You’re gorgeous.”

Huh?!

“I’m so lucky to have found you.” Zhongli nips at your hip. “So lucky that you want me too.” He kisses at your inner thigh.

Your breath hitches.

You’re the lucky one. Completely overjoyed that this Alpha likes you, desires you.

The first touch at your core has you mewling.

Zhongli strokes at your folds, still gentle, finding you soaked as your slick coats his fingers. Your body jolts and you moan “A-Ah!” He smirks against your thigh and nips there again as his fingers move in circles, teasing, testing, before moving to your clit. A finger pad stroking it just so, making your whole frame tremble, like every nerve in your body is being stimulated.

“Mngh- please!”

His fingers travel between your folds. First one sliding in rather easily, pumping steadily as you shudder in pleasure, and then two, making you writhe, bucking your hips against the touch, pushing them deeper, chasing that feeling.

Your body feels hot, too hot. Every sensation blocked except that warm wet feeling down there, in your new heaven. Your hands claw at the sheets, a pleasant fog setting in and you can feel yourself slipping into your most primal needs. But oh, oh, not like this.

You want him. Need him.

“You- y-you! please my lord!”

Something snaps in the Alpha’s eyes and Zhongli growls. Golden eyes dark, swallowed by lust and need and you whine when his fingers leave you. You vaguely hear rustling noises and before you can protest again, he pulls you up back on his lap and oh…

He’s big.

His erection stands proud between your bodies, rubbing against you and you shuffle impatiently, nuzzling against him.

Yes, yes…

Zhongli helps positioning you, gives himself a few strokes, and you feel his cockhead kiss at your entrance, you whine and stare at him rather confused. “L-Like this? B-But I have never- This is n-not how-”

He kisses your forehead, your nose, and pecks at your lips. “I can imagine this is very different from how they’ve taught you Alphas mount Omegas, but I my dear, intend to make love to you.” He whispers, hot breath fanning your cheeks as he nuzzles you, so close, so intimate. Your heart hammering wildly in your chest. “Like this you will have more control. I want you to relax, enjoy, my sweet dragoness.” He kisses at your cheek, down your jaw to your neck. “May I?”

You can feel your eyes water. No one had ever told you that. No Alpha had ever been this patient or even asked your permission before. Words die on your throat as you stare mesmerized at Zhongli. Grateful. Incredulous. Completely enamored.

You nod, and he guides you down.

It’s different like this. So much different.

You bite your lip and whine a little once you start to move, his hands hold your hips as you raise them and sink back down on his cock, inch by delicious inch. You feel… full, but warm, good. Your insides clench around him and he groans.

Oh… you could get used to this…

“Hah… ah! … m-my lord... I’m…” You feel dizzy but in a good way, your body tingles all over and it’s exhilarating, addicting.

He leans forward a bit, nosing at your collarbone, soft kisses tickle your skin and he… he’s almost purring in delight, inhaling your scent. “I told you, you can just call me by my name... Would you let me hear it?”

You buck languidly on his embrace, enjoying this…sensual experience, these new feelings and sensations. His tender closeness, his intoxicating pheromones, his deep baritone.

Him.

“Zhongli…”

His name comes out as a needy cry and he growls, Alpha pride clearly satisfied. His hands roam your body just enough to shift position and pull you even closer, hips rolling in tandem, picking up speed, his fangs grazing your shoulder.

Your head is swimming in pleasure, fuzzy like stuffed with cotton, small little “Ah… ah… ah!” moans punched out of you. You’re vaguely aware of your nails digging onto his skin but you can’t even stop yourself, you need to hold onto something, anything.  

Even your tail subconsciously curls around his ankle (and he doesn’t even seem to mind), like every cell of your body is screaming at you to hold onto him and never let go.

Zhongli’s own breathing comes out in harsh puffs and satisfied groans as he buries himself in you over and over, the sound of skin slapping on skin becomes more prominent.

And then, he hits a spot that has you seeing stars.

Your eyes snap open (when had you closed them?) Back arching as if struck by lightning and letting out a high-pitched moan. H-How did he do that?! What was that? You don’t remember ever feeling like this in previous bonding attempts.

“M-more?” You mewl in delight.

Zhongli looks at you with a satisfied smirk and it only fuels the fire in your belly.

“Gladly.”

That same wonderful feeling travels up and down your body again and again as your moans and whimpers rise in volume, calling his name over and over. Zhongli kisses you, deep and passionate. Whispers praises and sweet nothings on your flickering dragon ears. Touches you so soft and reverently. Your body feels so hot, your mind going blank, you can feel the base of his cock swelling with his knot and the familiar coil of pleasure tightening as you anticipate it, crave it, more intense and satisfying than ever before.

And just as you reach that high, his fangs sink into you.

You come with a squeal, body tensing, clinging onto him, clenching on him as he lets out a deep satisfied groan, knotting you. Wet stickiness coats your insides and thighs. And everything feels right, just right. Perfect even.

It takes a moment to come back to your senses, and it’s to Zhongli’s hands rubbing circles at your back comfortingly, while he laps and kisses at the bonding mark he left on you.

And then the high comes crashing down.

The bonding mark.

Tears well up in your eyes and start rolling down your cheeks, your tail uncoiling from him and curling around yourself protectively, ears down.

Please no… this can’t be…

Please stay…

Please.

Zhongli immediately notices your distress, in your actions and your scent, completely different altogether. His own instincts going wild at the lack of a happy sated mate scent. “Darling, what’s wrong? I’m sorry did it hurt that much? Did I… harm you in some way or did something wrong?” Oh, he sounds so genuinely concerned.

You shake your head desperately. Of course he hasn’t.

But you will.

Your body will. Betray you as always.

No bonding mark has stayed in your neck for longer than a few minutes. They all fade.

Just like the alphas that place them in you.

And then comes the anger, the guilt, the disappointment, the despair, the loneliness…

You can’t take it. Not this time.

“S-stay… please…” You sob.

Your voice sounds so broken, so weak and tiny, absolutely heart wrenching.

And Zhongli embraces you.

“I will, my dearest dragoness. I promise you.” He kisses one of your horns.

You want to believe him but you can only cry harder…

The room is dark as your eyes flutter open. It takes a few minutes to adjust and for your mind to catch up. Where are you…? You look around at the wooden walls, nestled in comfy sheets, you see some wooden cabinets and a tea set-

…!!!

You jolt awake, tumbling some pillows from your fancy nest. Your last chance at bonding. The emperor. He was leaving, and then…!

You slap a hand against the junction between neck and shoulder and feel something there, a bandage… you try to stare at it confused, though it’s impossible from the angle. And then fear consumes you. What if… it’s not there…?

Your body is still naked, though you have been covered with a thick fabric while sleeping, as it now pools at your lap, your Omega scent and that of an Alpha mixed together pleasantly, you turn around.

The Emperor. Lord Morax. Zhongli.

He sleeps peacefully by your side, on your nest, after having mated you.

He stayed.

You stare at his handsome features, fair skin, dark long hair, strong jaw, muscled arms. His lips slightly parted as he breathes evenly. So at ease.

You want to reach out and brush at his hair, touch his face, kiss him.

You want this moment to last forever.

Looking up slightly you see the large mirror, see yourself. A tiny thing, with freaky ears, horns and a tail.

It was… good, while it lasted. Almost like a dream.

Tears start falling down your cheeks again and you try to be as silent as possible as you pull and lift at the bandage in your shoulder. And there underneath it is… something?

Your fingers trace a mark, a wound, it stings and you hiss.

No way. There is no way.

Hope flutters in your chest, your stomach flips and you feel dizzy, nervous. A bonding mark? Is it real? Is it still there?

You shuffle out of the nest as fast and stealthily as you can, standing in front of the mirror. Hair a mess, eyes wide, pale in fear.

And there it is. The clear mark of an Alpha bite, still rather tender. A claim. A bond.

You start sobbing as you trace it, touch it, feel it. It must have been hours, there is no way…

It’s there, it’s there, for real. You want to laugh, to cry, you’re still nervous, scared, hopeful, happy, a million things at once.

But how? Why now?

“Hnng… darling? Are you crying again?” You stiffen as you hear the voice, deep and hoarse, laced with drowsiness. You turn and see him sit up and yawn carelessly like a rishboland tiger. Elegant and intimidating like one too with his bright golden eyes, Alpha fangs and muscled figure. Still naked as well, you note.

“T-the bonding mark… it’s still there!” You exclaim to him, gesturing to it.

“You should let it heal nicely.”

“Y-You don’t get it!” You huff. “My Lord… it’s still there! I’m bonded, I’m yours!”

He chuckles. “Rather, I would say we belong to each other, now.”

Belong to each other.

That sounds nice.

You turn back to the mirror, still staring at it, poking it with a finger softly, as if afraid it’ll disappear, as if it was an illusion, a dream.

But it’s there.

“For years… for years I thought I was doing s-something wrong, that there was something… wrong… with me…” You cry softly. “No Alpha had even bonded me…”

Suddenly you feel strong arms curl around your frame, a chin resting at your shoulder where it kisses your skin, and then brushes over the mark. It stings but you welcome it.

It means it’s real, all of this is.

Zhongli inhales, taking in your scent. “Well you see my dear, a dragonblood… a xiānshòu like you, can only be truly bonded by one of its own kind.”

The words take a moment to process, to sit on your brain, and you frown confused, staring at him from the mirror. And then your eyes widen.

Golden antlers crown his head, majestic and almost glowing, small scales appear under his striking amber eyes, the color of burnt ocher. A large tail, even bigger than yours in golden and brown hues, sways lazily behind him, before finding yours and intertwining with it, the feel is foreign but not unwelcome. Like holding hands.

You turn around so fast you almost trip if it weren’t for his hold. The dragonblood features are still there, in plain sight.

Your throat feels dry.

“You… you’re…”

He raises a finger to his lips and shushes you, then smiles. “I am yours my dear. Just as you are now mine.”

You cling to him and hide your face on his chest as you cry. Overwhelmed, relieved.

Yes, this is where you belong.

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours I modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Prev I Next I Series Masterlist

Chapter VI: Landslide

Summary: As your band, Dragon Dreamers, start to take off, you find yourself in the middle of a foul divorce with one of your bandmates; guitarist, singer and songwriter Aemond. After spending 3 months apart, only communicating through solicitors, you reunite to go on your first ever national tour of Westeros. To boost sales, your management suggest you perform some of the new songs from your upcoming album Rumours. Heartbroken, you've channeled your grief into writing. So has Aemond.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, smut, tags to be added for each chapter; angst, feral lovemaking (P in V), stalking, allusions to attempted sexual assault

Word Count: 4500

A/N: No, this isn't a Rumours song either! Sue me!

Dividers by Saradika

You dismiss another call from an unknown number with an annoyed flick of your finger as you continue to read the document in front of you, fingers dragging over the screen of your phone as your eyes scan the deed poll forwarded to you by your solicitor. 

Back to only carrying your maiden name, Targaryen officially removed from your legal name. 

It’s strange, like the marriage never happened. You can’t decide if the thought is comforting or devastating. But now it’s official. 

You’re not family anymore. 

One year ago, you’d never thought this day would come. A day where you wouldn’t be married to the love of your life; by his side through thick and thin. 

Aemond’s voice is hushed as he speaks to his grandfather out on the balcony. He’d asked you to wait in the living room as he took the call, but not being by his side made you feel restless. You knew Otto would be ruthless; stooping impossibly low in order to make Aemond rethink his decision to leave the firm to pursue the band full time. 

He finally emerges from the balcony, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion and face hollow. You shift your body slightly on the sofa, bringing your arms out so he can sit down next to you and fall into your embrace. 

He does exactly that. 

Your fingers come up to comb through his hair as you gently inquire, “What did he say?”

Aemond just sighs as he moves to hide his face in the crook of your neck, arms leisurely placed around your waist. 

You already know the answer. That he was ashamed of having a quitter of a grandson. That he’ll never amount to anything without his grandfather. That he’s too intelligent to think that pursuing a band could be a viable career path. 

“What do I do now”, he mumbles defeatedly against your skin. You tap his cheek lightly with the tip of your finger to make him look up at you. 

As your eyes lock, you place your hand on his cheek and gently stroke your thumb over his cheekbone. 

“I am your family now, Aemond. We’ll always have each other”, you reassure as you lean down to kiss him. He eagerly reciprocates, arms coming up to either side of you as he pushes his body up to hover over you. You sink further into the sofa cushions as he surges down to kiss you again. His kisses are slow yet fierce, nearly sucking the soul out of you, leaving you breathless. 

You soon find yourself in your shared bed, Aemond arms still wrapped tightly around. He lets his forehead down to rest against yours as he gazes into your eyes. 

His stare is almost manic as he whispers, “You’re my everything”, sheathing himself fully inside you. His hips start to roll against yours, sending pleasurable sparks through your body.

It feels so good all you can do is moan, one of your hands coming up to grab a fistful of the hair at the back of his head, smashing his lips against yours in a messy kiss. 

The only sound in the room, in the entire flat, is your matching breaths as you entwine pants and moans, kissing sloppily; lovingly. 

You can hear how wet you are each time Aemond pulls out, the sound spurring him on further as he goes harder. You can hardly form a coherent thought as each thrust makes his pelvis press against your clit. “Don’t come yet”, he breathes into your mouth as he kisses you again and you nod obediently. 

He turns you so that you're on your side and lays down right behind you. His large hand caresses the smooth skin of your thigh before grabbing the meat of it, draping your leg over his hips as he begins to rut into you, a bit harsher than before. 

You can’t help but moan, letting him know how good he feels. Your hand searches his, still on your thigh, and you hold onto it for some stability as your body jolts forward with each harsh snap of his hips. 

He goes harder, thrusting into you while his face is pressed to you cheek, mumbling in your ear, “feel so fucking good, baby”. You moan in reply as you move your face slightly to place another wet kiss on his cheek. His cheeks are flustered and the top of his ears are almost red as his face is set in a look of stern determination. 

Using his arm for leverage, he lifts his body slightly, fucking you harder and harder. Your body gets pushed into the mattress and you find yourself on your stomach, one hand sneaking down under your stomach to circle your neglected clit. Aemond grunts as your walls clench down on his length, his face now shielded in your hair. 

“I’d fucking die for you, you know”, he grits out through clenched teeth as he continues his merciless pace. 

Though your peak is nearing rapidly, rendering your brain almost useless when it comes to focusing on anything else but the intoxicating pleasure he's giving you, you feel like something’s not right.

He sounds angry. 

You turn your head from where it’s pushed into the mattress in an attempt to face him. He looks deranged, hair falling in front of his face and pupil blown wide, eyes filled with something you can’t really decipher. It’s not purely lust. 

You call his name and bring your hand up to stroke his cheek, searching for eye contact. His eye is observing your body intensely, but not meeting yours. 

“Are you okay?”

He grunts, but slows down as his gaze finally finds yours. Was he upset? You’re not sure what’s going on, all you know is that you want to comfort him. 

Staring into his seeing eye without blinking, you console him, “I love you too, Aemond”. 

His expression falls and he suddenly seems sad. 

It makes you sad too. Why wouldn’t he just tell you what made him like this? Why does he refuse to open up to you? 

The movement of his hips falters and he says nothing, only breathing heavily. 

The hand you have resting on his cheek slowly travels down to his chest and you push him gently, gesturing for him to lay down on his back. 

He follows you silent instructions without protest, laying down on his back. 

You turn around and swing one of your legs over him so that you’re straddling him, hands resting on his chest. You slowly sink down on his cock, feeling whole again as it stretches you out in the most perfect way. 

You moan and throw your head back, setting a steady pace. Your hips move up and down, front and back. 

Aemond’ hands squeeze your hips and he continues to meet your rhythm by bucking up into you, losing himself to pleasure once more. 

“You feel so good, baby”, you moan, your pace never faltering. “No one could ever make me feel as good as you do”. 

He moans, one hand moving from your hip to your breast, cupping it and pinching your nipple between his fingers. You sigh in pleasure and lay down on top of him, hands moving to cup his face. 

“You’re mine. And I’m yours”

You kiss him and he harshly grabs your body again, arms wrapping around your waist as his cock moves frantically in and out of you. 

The pleasure is too immense, and you abruptly peak with a high-pitched cry, triggering Aemond’s release in the process. He groans as he cums, tucking his face in the crook of your neck again, just like earlier in the evening. 

He holds your body securely against him, making you immobile. After a while, you try to pry his arms away and get off him, but he just mumbles, “No, please” into your neck. 

You lay your head back down and close your eyes. Aemond is deadly silent but you feel his breath against the skin over your collarbones, wetness sliding down the hollow of your neck. 

Two days since your live show in Winterfell and your phone won’t stop buzzing with incoming calls from unknown numbers. You know they’re from journalists hoping to get a comment from you about the performance in Winterfell and your new song, the drama of it clearly being about your ex husband fueling their thirst for a good headline. 

You’d spent the time since the concert in isolation, essentially doing nothing else but watching films and eating a large variety of takeaway in your hotel room. 

You left Winterfell yesterday, boarding an overnight flight to Oldtown for your next show tomorrow. 

Today, you finally found a reason to not spend all your time off in the hotel room, looking around the vintage shops that are scattered across the narrow cobblestone streets of the quaint town. 

You’d spent nearly an hour in your favourite boutique; a hidden gem a few minutes away from one of the more famous shopping streets of the city. 

When you and Aemond first started dating, you'd joined him when he went to visit his mum here. She’d opted for going back to her hometown after her husband passed away, seeking some familiarity. 

Alicent seemed to thrive in Oldtown, showing you around all the places she’d frequented with her friends as a young girl. 

Aemond had shown you his favourite spots as well; bookstores, record shops, organic coffee shops ‘cause he was convinced organic products would prevent him from ever falling ill.  

You try to shake your head in a feeble attempt at erasing the train of thought you’d been on. You need to make new memories here now. 

Memories not tainted by him. 

Most of the shops are closed by now, the last rays of sun for the day shining through the gaps between the ancient buildings cramped together on the streets. 

You pull out your phone to type in the address of the hotel you're staying at, still not quite so familiar with Oldtown that you can navigate it without assistance. The map on your phone shows that it’s a 15 minutes walk along the water to your destination. 

The street lights illuminate your path as you enjoy the calmness of the rather large city. Most people have retreated home by now as darkness envelopes the streets. 

As you turn to walk down the wide avenue leading towards the hotel, you feel a hand on your shoulder, pulling you out from your thoughts. You abruptly stop and turn around, meeting eyes with a man you’ve never seen before. 

He still has his hand on your shoulder as he asks “Aren’t you the singer from Dragon Dreamers?”, voice low as a small smile appears on his face. 

“Yes”, is all you reply as you're left somewhat dumbfounded. You’ve been approached by fans on occasion before, but never alone in a somewhat unfamiliar city.

“I’m a huge fan. This might be a bit forward, but could I take you out to dinner?”, he asks as the hand he has placed on your shoulder squeezes your flesh over your jacket. He’s stare is intense and his voice is slightly strained, adding to your already uncomfortable state. 

“Thank you, but I’m on my way back to my hotel, and-, I-, I need to get back”, you answer hurriedly, hoping that the stranger will understand your discomfort and leave you alone.

“Oh, where are you staying?”, he inquires as his eyes light up. “I can walk with you”.

“That’s kind of you, but not necessary, I’m okay. Thank you”, you politely dismiss him, praying that he’ll take the hint and leave you alone. You turn around to walk away, almost stumbling over your feet as they move quickly over the cobblestoned streets.

The man doesn’t say anything else but you notice him in the corner of your eye, walking behind you at a few metres distance. 

Is he going to hurt you? Force himself into your hotel room? 

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as panic washes over you. There is a small group of people walking ahead of you and the man following you. 

What would he do if they weren’t here?

The pace of your steps grow quicker as you walk towards the hotel. You glance at your phone; still a 10 minutes walk away. The man behind you speeds up his footsteps as well, matching your pace but still staying a few metres behind you. 

You’re too scared to look behind and properly face him, but he remains in your peripheral vision. The small group of people walking ahead of you look like they might turn into a sidestreet at any moment, and fear pierces your heart at the thought. 

Then you’d be alone. With him. 

Maybe if there’s a corner shop or something around here you could pop in and hopefully shake him. Or call someone to come and meet you. 

Looking up at the buildings surrounding you, you realise that you recognise this street. 

This is only a stone's throw away from Alicent’s flat. 

Maybe he’s staying there?

Before you can think any further, your fingers press on the screen of your phone, going into settings, unblocking the familiar number before pressing the little telephone icon.

You hear two signals before the call is cancelled. 

Fuck! Now he ignores your calls? 

Your fingers move quickly as you type out, “sorry someone’s following me I’m walking home please pick up”. 

Barely a second passes before your phone buzzes. “Hi! Yes, I’m just around the corner, can you see me yet?”, you ask in a way too hurried tone, ruining your own attempt at sounding casual. Your voice is loud and high-pitched as you try to signal to the man behind you that someone’s coming to meet you. 

“What street are you on?”, Aemond asks. You can hear him shuffling around on the other side. 

You look up at one of the buildings, reading the name of the street. “Yes, I’m standing on Gardener Avenue, where you told me to meet you”, you continue to babble, hoping the shadow behind you will finally stop following you as it appears you’re set to meet someone. 

“Do you remember the way to the apartment?”, Aemond responds and you hear the rattling of keys as he speaks. 

“Yes”

“Walk towards it, I’m coming out to meet you. Stay on the phone with me”, he instructs, his voice calm yet carrying urgency. 

“Yes”, you repeat, not sure what else to say. You’re not really on small-talking terms, so trying to fill the silence between the two of you proves tricky. 

As you walk in silence with Aemond on the other end of the phone, you feel the man behind you come closer when the group in front of you eventually turn down a side street, leaving you two alone on the avenue. 

Your heart is beating so fiercely your chest hurts. Is Aemond coming? Maybe if you pretend to see him, you’ll finally be left alone. 

“I think I see you!”, you abruptly exclaim as cheerily as possible in order to scare the man that’s following you away, but he seems to be drawing closer still. 

Suddenly, you see the silhouette of a tall man with broad shoulders appear in quick and confident steps around one of the corners of the many stone buildings surrounding you. 

The man behind you seems to retreat in an instant, though it doesn’t stop Aemond from calling out “Were you fucking following her?”

But as quickly as the man had appeared, he’s gone. 

You try to take a few deep breaths to sooth yourself, still feeling dazed from what had just happened. 

You close your eyes and do the breathing exercise your therapist had taught you to stay grounded and terminate any possible panic attacks that could be triggered by the stress of what just happened. 

Breathe in. Hold three seconds. Breathe out. Hold three seconds. 

“Are you okay?”, Aemond asks. 

You don’t open your eyes. You can’t look up at him, knowing that the flicker of hatred in his eye as he regards you will push you over the edge, push you to release the tears that have been waiting to spill from your eyes since the strange man first laid his hand on your shoulder. 

“Yeah, just need to get back to the hotel”, you mumble as you inhale deeply once more to ground yourself. It doesn’t help, not really. The lump in your throat feels like a painful stone blocking your airflow as you swallow. 

You feel Aemond step closer to you, tenderly placing a hand on your elbow as he silently waits for you to continue. 

You reluctantly open your eyes to look up at him, surprised to find his face reflect gentle understanding. The unexpected act of kindness pushes you over the edge and you let out a shaky breath as you feel tears beginning to spill from your eyes. 

“Sorry, it’s just-, I mean, nothing happened, but…”, you start, one hand coming up to wipe away the tears that slide down your cheeks. 

“Something could’ve happened”, Aemond finishes for you, tone stoic though you can sense the hint of sympathy there. 

“Sorry for calling you so suddenly, I shouldn’t have-, I didn’t know who to call”, you say, words tumbling out of your mouth ungracefully, matching the hurried pace of your still frightened heart. 

“Don’t apologise”, he commands softly as he squeezes your elbow in reassurance.

You know there is no room for argument so you just nod in response. 

“Come back to mum’s place with me”, he says. “It’s just around the corner”

“No, really, I’m fine! Nothing happened and I need to rest before tomorrow’s show”, you explain as more tears slide down your cheeks. 

Fucking stop crying! 

“You shouldn’t be alone right now. Come up, just for a cup of tea to calm your nerves. Please?”, Aemonds persits, voice more gentle than you remember him capable of. Again, you reply with a silent nod and let him lead you towards his mother’s home.

As you step into Alicent’s lavish flat, you're hit by nostalgia so potent it makes more tears well up in your already damp eyes. Everything smells the same; looks the same. 

“Is she here?”, you inquire, voice small and unsteady. 

“She’s out having dinner with Cole”, Aemond replies as he takes off his shoes in the hallway, neatly placing them on the shoe rack. He moves to the kitchen to fill the kettle and you follow closely behind, discreetly sweeping the back of your hand against your cheek to wipe away the tears that keep sliding down. 

Fucking pull it together!

Aemond flicks his hand towards the chair by the small, round table in the corner of the kitchen; the breakfast nook where Alicent would serve coffee and fresh bread in the morning whenever you stayed over. 

It’s all so familiar, yet being here feels so different; almost taboo. 

You sit down and place your hands on the table, nervously tapping your fingers against each other as you wait for Aemond to bring the tea over. 

He places the flower-patterned cup with gold details by your restless hands and sits down in the chair opposite yours. 

“Drink”, he encourages as he takes a sip from his own cup, seeing eye watching you intensely. 

You pick up the cup, experimentally sipping, letting the hot beverage warm you from within. It’s comforting. 

“Do you really tell yourself I never loved you?”

Aemond’s sudden question takes you by such surprise, you nearly choke on your tea. Your eyes dart up from watching the cup in your hand to watch him. His expression is as calculated as always; not letting you in on what he’s thinking, though his voice is still gentle. 

“I-”, you begin, trying to come up with an answer to his absurd query. Why is he asking you this now?

“I mean, sometimes it felt like you didn’t love me”, you answer truthfully, carefully observing his reaction. 

He gives nothing away as he hums in response. 

“You seemed miserable being with me”, you add, wondering if this is the long overdue heart-to-heart you hadn’t had a chance of having before. 

“Sometimes I was”, he replies matter of factly. You’re not surprised by his response, not really, but having your suspicions confirmed allows you to prod further. 

“I guess I just wonder whether you loved me, or just the idea of me?”, you ask as you meet his eye. You know you’re poking a resting bear, but you can’t help yourself. You need to know what he thinks about all of this. About you. 

Aemond doesn’t blink when he answers, “I don’t know”. You feel that all too familiar lump in your throat reappear. “It was all so new to me, caring about someone so much. Someone who’s not family. I didn’t know how to handle those feelings”, he admits and you have to stop yourself from letting the astonishment you experience from his confession show up on your face. 

You’re silent for a moment, taking in his words, before speaking up again. “I really want this to work, Aemond. The band, I mean. It’s all we've left”, you say, your own words stabbing at your heart. 

Aemond hums in response again, finger tapping rhythmically against the top of Alicent’s kitchen table. “I agree”, he replies after some time of silence. It almost feels official in a way, the fact that you’ve finally agreed with each other that the band comes first; even before your own broken hearts. 

The silence persists as you continue to sip your tea. You feel a strange mixture of emptiness and melancholy inside. It all hits you at once; the divorce, removing his name from yours, continuing on as nothing more than business partners. 

It starts as a sting in your chest, but blooms out into a suffocating ache. He doesn’t want you anymore. And you don’t want him; you can’t want him. Because no matter how wonderful it had been at times, the pain of the heartache you caused each other weighed heavier.

The performance in Oldtown is just as exhilarating as the previous live shows had been. The crowd is loving every second, the venue is packed and you feel alive.

This is it. 

This is what matters.

Your biggest hit from your first album, Landslide, was a permanent feature in any show you played. You’d written it from the sidelines, watching as duty tore the person you loved most into every direction possible. 

Tonight, as you stay on the stage with Aemond when your band members retreat backstage, singing Landslide suddenly feels different.

You shoot him a quick glance before approaching your mic again to introduce the next song to the audience. They’re shouting your name, shouting Aemonds name, and you think you hear someone yell out ‘the sound of the woman that loved you!’. 

Speaking with Aemond earlier today, when you agreed you’d prioritise the band over any dispute you had, has left you nostalgic, and singing Landslide feels like offering a piece of your heart, the heart he had held in his palm, to him once again. 

“I wrote this song about a boy who had to grow up too fast”, you say as Aemond starts to pluck the strings of his guitar.

‘I took my love and I took it down’

‘I climbed a mountain and I turned around’

‘And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills’

'Til the landslide brought me down’

You’d never told Aemond you wrote this song about him and his grandfather. You never felt the need to, convinced that he already knows it’s about them. You can’t help but to look over at him; at the way his hands move gracefully over the guitar. 

‘Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?’

‘Can the child within my heart rise above?’

Leaving his grandfather’s firm and subsequently leaving the path his entire life had led to, had been tough for him, even with you by his side. And now he’d have to navigate this new course alone. You still find yourself worrying about him; for the boy robbed of his vision, forced to grow up faster than most. 

‘Can I sail through the changin' ocean tides?’

‘Can I handle the seasons of my life?’

‘Well, I've been afraid of changin'

'Cause I've built my life around you’

He’s had to adapt; had to rethink and relearn everything before. He will be fine. 

Maybe you just worried about him because you hoped, somewhere inside, that he wouldn’t be fine without you? A selfish wish for him to need you. 

‘But time makes you bolder’

‘Even children get older’

‘And I'm getting older too’

It was time to let go. 

For the first time since the beginning of the tour, you don’t feel an urgent need to escape to the solitude of your hotel room as soon as the show is over. So you move unhurriedly backstage, gathering your things and looking over your stage outfits, pondering over whether you’d wear the same flowy, trumpet-sleeved top for the next performance. 

You see auburn hair flash by as Alicent Hightower enters the backstage area, throwing her arms around her two children as she loudly gushes over how incredible the show had been. 

You continue to inspect your wardrobe with your back turned to them, feeling slightly awkward with your previous mother-in-law in the room. 

You hadn’t seen her in months, not since before the divorce. 

You hear the chatter behind you die down, the clicking of heels closing in behind you. 

You know she’s standing behind you, one gentle hand coming up to lightly tap your back. 

You turn around with a forced smile on your face. 

How do you act around your ex-husband’s mother?

Alicent’s large, warm eyes glitter as she looks you over, grabbing your shoulders to pull you in for a hug. 

“Darling, what a wonderful show! You were absolutely fantastic”, she compliments, smiling wide. You smile back at her.

“Thank you, Alicent”

“How are you holding up?”, she softly asks as her hands stay on either side of your shoulders. 

“I’m good”, you reply shortly, not really sure whether you should confide in your ex-husband's mother or not. 

“I’m so glad you can put your differences aside and continue to work together”, she says sympathetically, but her choice of words make you flinch slightly. 

“And now is your opportunity to be brave. You’re both such wonderful artists. Focus on the music, alright?”

“Yes”, is all the reply you can muster as her words send a pang straight to your heart. It’s all so final. It’s all over. 

You look into each other’s eyes, a thousand words said within mere seconds as you feel your eyes well up with tears. 

Alicent offers you a sad smile before embracing you in another warm hug. 

Silent, hot tears slide down you cheeks as you mumble into her hair, “Will you take care of him?”

She pats your head, hand sliding down to stroke your hair lovingly. 

“Thank you for loving him”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this series and letting me know you thoughts! I appreciate your support so much! ❤️

Taglist: @watercolorskyy @nockerin @yazzzmints @mooncalvin @persephonerinyes @bellstwd @toodlesxcuddles @nsr-15 @daenerysqueenofhearts @aquakaris @targaryenmoony @ainhoamunson @wintrr13 @julczimozart @moonlightfoxx @sweethoneyblossom1 @boofy1998 @snh96 @iloveallmyboys

Bold; couldn't tag!

[koqabear]

till tomorrow comes [0]

♫: rises the moon, Liana Flores

“It’s official; the human life expectancy is now lower than it was ten years ago— and it’s expected to keep lowering in the future. Humans have become weak, feeble beings; with morale low and the human population lower, you find yourself clinging onto the last hope there is: the news of a new ongoing experiment, hoping to find the cause and restore human beings back to their prime— you’ve been told only good news about its progress. 

What you haven’t been told, however, is just how far they are willing to push the limits of humanity and science.”

ot5 x fem!reader. Beomgyu centric.

▹genre: Zombie Apocalypse!AU, interactive au!

▹chapter wc: 3.7K

▹about this chapter: beomgyu focus, fluff, a bit of angst if you really close your eyes and believe; the tension is there yet its not at all.. but no warnings otherwise. check masterlist for more information

notes: this is the prologue, so there’s no poll that will go along with this! that’ll happen… soon ! but for now, our characters are safe and sound :)

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[0]— There's Always Tomorrow.

“I don’t think I can keep doing this.”

A half-pitied, half-sympathetic look is all Beomgyu can muster to send your way. Your back aches and your eyes have begun to dry out from how long you’ve been sitting before your computer, continuing to tackle the workload that never seems to end. You find yourself pouting at your friend’s lack of response to your dramatics, straightening up and stretching your sore muscles as you glance back from your spot at the kitchen table; your eyes linger on his form, slouched and tired as he hovers over the stove, clearly lost in thought as he stares off into the distance, out the small window placed beside him— and you sigh. 

“Smells good,” you mutter quietly, breaking Beomgyu out of trance, the boy flinching at the sudden sound of your voice; he turns back to you, eyes lighting up playfully, examining your equally tired form, “d’you make enough for two by chance?” 

“As if,” Beomgyu scoffs, but even so, he proceeds to reach into the cabinets to grab dishes— two bowls, two cups, two pairs of chopsticks— the sight garnering a roll of your eyes, choosing to bite your tongue as you turn back around in your seat, back to the essays and assignments that no longer seemed to make sense to you; behind you, a soft clatter sounds— you find yourself softly humming along to the playlist Beomgyu has put on in the background.

“You really should learn how to manage your time better,” Beomgyu scolds you softly, setting a bowl of ramen before you, followed by a glass of water— and he roughly takes a seat beside you, scooting his chair closer, your shoulders bumping as he looks over at your screen, “You’re always procrastinating for no reason.” 

“I know you’re not talking,” you sneer light-heartedly, shutting your laptop before placing it off to the side; you’re mixing the ramen around absentmindedly, watching the steam pour out as you speak, “you’re literally worse than me.”

He tries to refute you yet again— only this time, Beomgyu finds that he can’t say much to that; he’s had an impeccable track record of pushing things back until the very last minute, and the vice of his has burrowed its way into him since high school, much too late for him to be able to change his ways now. You laugh mockingly at his defeat. 

The rest of your meal is mostly spent in silence; it’s times like these where conversations with Beomgyu always seem to dwindle, having already spent so much of your day together to be able to talk about some new or interesting thing that happened— because by the time the sun has begun to set, you’ve already told Beomgyu everything that’s on your mind. But, with the way life has been going for the both of you recently, even that seems to be sparse. Your body deflates at the reminder of your painfully plain life; a sigh falls from you involuntarily. 

“What’s up with you recently?” Beomgyu asks, raising a brow at your sulking posture, “I’ve never seen you so depressed.”

You’re sending a sheepish smile his way, lips parting to give him some generic excuse, unsure of the real answer yourself— but you’re distracted by the sound of Beomgyu’s calm, quiet playlist switching to something much more drastic, the abrupt sound of nature and birds chirping making your brows knit together, glancing at the speaker that blares these noises to you both. 

“Ugh, I forgot you still have ads on your account,” you groan dramatically, leaning back in your chair to send your friend a judgemental look; Beomgyu seems unphased by it, muttering tiredly for you to be quiet; your comment is both predictable and repetitive, yet you never fail to send him a teasing smile after. 

“It’s okay, nothing wrong with being broke,” you tease further, the monologue of the advertisement practically memorized in your mind; you pause for a second to listen, the familiar preaches to take care of the Earth and the people in it swiftly transitioning to the real purpose of Beomgyu’s music break:

“BioGen seeks to bring back what once belonged to the beings of this planet, to bring forward hope, and develop brighter, stronger generations. Join the cause and…”

“This alone was enough to make me buy premium,” you say, standing from your seat to go wash your dishes, “I was so sick of having to hear that ad every five minutes.”

“You learn to block it out after enough times,” Beomgyu replies, coming up behind you and placing his dishes in the sink, just as you were about done— your eyes glare sharply at him yet your hands have already gotten to work, the boy only giving you a triumphant grin in return, “Guess I’m just better than you.”

Placing his dishes on the drying rack, you protest petulantly— he’s just as quick to mock your whiny tone and taunt you, body closing in on you as the two of you going back and forth like children— with no end to the bickering in sight, you go to flick water at him playfully; he yelps, and before either of you can really think things through, he goes to retaliate. 

The kitchen is filled with sounds of screams, curses, and laughter, the wooden floor becoming slippery and the reasoning behind your quarrel long forgotten; Beomgyu’s playlist queues back on in the background all the while.

The night ends with exhausted giggles and another round of cleaning; your shirt sticks to your body and Beomgyu’s hair drips, and you follow the boy back to the bathroom to get a towel to dry off— leaning back on your hands against the counter, you watch him with tired, heavy eyes. 

“Your hair’s getting longer,” you comment softly, watching Beomgyu fluff and dry his hair, his own gaze glued to the mirror in front of him; his eyes flicker over to you before they go back to himself, fingertips grazing the hair that’s begun to grow past the tops of his ears. 

“I’m getting it cut in a few weeks,” is all he says in return, lips twitching at the way you complain at the news.

“What? I thought you were gonna grow it out,” you pout, the sight of Beomgyu shaking his head softly only making you frown, “What happened to the guy that was so desperate to try and get that wolf cut look?”

“Well, that was when I was seventeen and wasn’t allowed to grow out my hair,” Beomgyu counters, raising a brow and throwing you a knowing look, “plus, I did grow my hair out that summer, remember? It was hell to take care of, I hated it.” 

“You were just lazy,” you mumble to yourself, yelping at the smack you receive on your bicep from the words, “It’s true! You barely tried to style it properly.”

Beomgyu simply smiles and rolls his eyes— he doesn’t bother to respond because he knows you’re right. 

“All of us loved it though,” you say quietly, staring down at your feet and tapping to an invisible rhythm— a song from Beomgyu’s playlist that got stuck in your head probably, he did have some catchy songs in there— “We always thought it made you look pretty.”

The boy huffs out a laugh; memories of your friend group cycle through his mind, all the days where they teased him and played with his hair playing like a movie— jabs and jokes followed with gentle hands that smoothed down his head, tucking stray hairs back and calling him a pretty princess with that annoying cooed tone— a small smile finds its way onto his face, a glance back at you showing that you must be reminiscing the same things, eyes alight and lips curved into a fond smile; feeling his gaze on you, you meet his eyes boldly, fuzzy memories of summers past fading from your mind, taking in how the scrawny boy you’ve known since birth has now turned into the man he is today— and your mind inevitably wanders off to the others.

“I wonder how they’re doing,” you confess, not needing to say any names to let Beomgyu know who you’re talking about; Beomgyu’s face softens, and he turns back to the mirror, squeezing out the last bits of water that remain in his hair as he hums softly, lost in thought.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” he reassures you, curious with the way your gaze remains downcast, “You act like we’ll never see them again.”

“Well, I haven’t heard from them in ages,” you complain, head tilting back to the ceiling, letting out a big sigh for dramatic effect, “the group chat is so dead, and everyone’s so busy these days.”

“I know; I almost miss Yeonjun spamming it,” Beomgyu jokes, bringing about a soft laugh from you; the atmosphere around you lightens up, and Beomgyu finishes up the final touches with his hair, fluffing it up before he throws the towel at you; it lands on your head and covers face unceremoniously, and you yelp indignantly, quick hands taking it off immediately.

“We just have to make it to Friday,” he says firmly, innocent grin an instinctive response to the glare you send his way, “Only a week till Friday and we’ll see everyone, right?”

“Right,” you murmur, narrowed eyes following his figure that backs out the door slowly, clearly trying to escape your silent wrath, “Just make it to Friday.”

“Exactly,” he chirps, your eyes trained on him as he starts to step out the doorway, “try not to be so depressed till then.” 

He jumps out of sight just as you throw the dirty towel right where he once stood; it lands with a sad, heavy plop, and Beomgyu’s victorious laugh rings out the hallway as he runs off to his bedroom, a loud goodnight! is the last thing you hear before his door closes. 

It’s silent; your eyes fall onto the towel that remains on the floor, the roll of your eyes contrasting the smile that grows on your lips. 

“Goodnight,” you call out to the empty hallway, throwing the towel into the hamper before you turn the lights off; the house is shrouded in complete darkness, and you make your way to your bedroom with slow, tired steps; Beomgyu’s words echo in your head without you realizing. 

Just make it to Friday.

Taehyun’s place has always been the ideal place for hangouts for three obvious reasons: it’s the most spacious, he lives alone, and of course, he’s the best cook. 

It’s a fact you’re reminded of as you lay back on the couch and glance over at the mess happening in the kitchen— because Hueningkai just had to insist on helping out, the clumsy boy resigned to dish duties after almost chopping off his finger— twice, all five of you practically jumping out your skins each time he let out an undignified screech, followed by the sound of the knife clattering on the cutting board. And though Taehyun had sent the youngest a scathing glare, the relief in his face was obvious by the way he clutched the fallen knife close to his body and shooed Hueningkai away to the sink filled with dirty pots and pans. 

A random drama drones off in the television; it was clear that the show was there for background noise and nothing more, seated next to Beomgyu on the couch as the two of you catch up with Soobin and Yeonjun, listening to them rant and complain about the heavy workload of their classes or angry customers they’ve encountered at their jobs. 

“Did you know the mall is closed down?” Yeonjun says, your surprised gasp and incredulous glance to the boy beside you enough to answer his question, “yeah, some pipes burst and flooded like half the place— they’re closing down for maintenance for the next two weeks.”

“But what about the workers?” you ask, watching as two of the said workers shrug their shoulders dismissively, clearly not as stressed about the situation as you expected them to be.

“We got an email from our supervisors that we’ll probably be paid for the days we were scheduled,” Soobin says, the undeniable twinkle in his eyes telling you that he didn’t really mind this whole situation, “Like PTO, I guess.”

“Wish that place got closed for a month instead,” Yeonjun huffs, a yawn ripping through him as he stretches his arms over his head, letting out a big sigh once they fall limp at his sides, “fucking hate that place.” 

“Same.”

When there’s nothing to complain about and they’ve seemed to have updated you on every miniscule detail of their life— how their finals are approaching, this new snack they’ve recently discovered at the gas station on the way home, apparently attempting to “put you on”— the three turn to you, not expecting the way you shift and shrink into the couch at all; they ask if there’s anything new or interesting going on in your life, and all you can do is clear your throat in nervous thought. 

“Not really,” you say with a sheepish smile, watching as Soobin and Yeonjun send you a curious look, as though they didn’t believe you, “Life’s just… been really boring recently. Nothing interesting has happened.”

Nothing? They echo, humming softly at the sight of your affirming nods; quite unlike you, they can’t help but think, always having something to do, something to say, a new story to tell— Hueningkai’s loud and projected voice calling you all to the kitchen seems to be your saving grace, the tension slipping off your muscles as you all rush to gather around. 

In a big, scary world like this, where your lives are in a liminal state and you couldn’t even bring yourself to confidently talk about how your days have been going, it was moments like these that mattered the most— because even if Taehyun lived on his own, with no family in town to constantly check up and dote on him, his kitchen said otherwise; the dining table was large and full, and his cabinets were packed with more dishes than he knew what to do with on most days— you all pretended you didn’t notice the fond smile on his face as he set down dish after dish, ramen and meat and enough side dishes to leave you all stuffed and drowsy.

“I’m gonna cry, I haven’t had a proper meal in so long,” Hueningkai was the first to cry out, his plate full to the brim yet his chopsticks still reaching out for more, unfazed at the way Soobin and Yeonjun continue to sneak meat onto his dish, “I’ve had to survive off reheat stuff ever since I got that stupid internship, I almost went insane.”

“Awh, you poor thing,” you coo out, a teasing smile on your face as you reach to place rolled omelets on his plate as well, already guessing he’d try to reach over for them anyway, “You gotta make sure you eat so you get big and strong, okay? Don’t skip out on meals.”

Hueningkai scoffs at your jabs— but before he can try to give your teasing a rebuttal, you’re craning your head to where Taehyun sits, on the other side of Beomgyu and completely lost in his own food; he visibly jumps when you call his name, wide eyes peeking up at you mid-bite.

“How is that internship going for you two so far, anyway?” you ask, glancing back at Hueningkai to make sure he was listening, “I keep hearing the stupid commercials about it when Beomgyu plays his music.”

“That’s for another division of the project,” Taehyun is quick to correct, Hueningkai nodding along at his words, “they’re looking for people to test on.”

“What?!” you exclaim, everyone else but Hueningkai as equally surprised as you are, “Is that… safe?”

“I mean, it’s legal,” Hueningkai slowly begins, a bit sheepish as the sight of your concerned frown that forms at his words, “everything is thoroughly discussed beforehand, but with a project like this, there’s obviously bound to be some risks.”

“And people still agree to it?” Soobin asks, his words muffled by the mouthful of food he chews through— he gets a slight jab on the side from Yeonjun because of it. 

Hueningkai nods. 

“We’ve already had a few hundreds go through testing already in groups; placebos, beta products, reactions to certain ingredients…”

“It probably pays good,” Beomgyu pipes up, looking at Taehyun for confirmation, “doesn’t it?”

Taehyun thinks the question through, humming in thought before he finally answers.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he says, “but I’m not exactly sure how much it is.”

“Woah, maybe I should volunteer,” you say, watching as Taehyun and Hueningkai turn to you in surprise; a coy smile tweaks at your lips, and you send them a wink with your next words. “But only if one of you is the one testing on me.”

The table erupts into laughs and groans; Taehyun’s grumble of don’t be weird, isn’t lost on you, but soon enough, everyone else finds themselves joining in.

“You should test on me too,” Yeonjun grins, reaching over to try and grab Taehyun’s hand; the said man recoils immediately, “maybe then I won’t be tired all the time.”

“Me too— c’mon, stop gatekeeping that BioGen stuff!”

“You should sneak some of the finished product over to us.”

“Yeah, that’s what true friends do!” 

“Pleaaase?”

“Hueningie!” 

Voices melt and stack in a loud cacophony— you don’t know who’s saying what anymore, or who’s talking to who, but you’ve all erupted in your own conversations, teasing the two smartest members in your group or choosing to talk about something else; it’s lively, it’s restless, and soon enough, all the food from the table has disappeared.

You play rock paper scissors to see who does the dishes; you and Soobin lose with loud cries of dismay. 

“Do you remember that ice cream truck that would always go around our neighborhood at this time?”

Spring must be near; you find yourself thinking that as you lean back against the porch fence, your legs spread haphazardly over Soobin’s lap— all the comfortable lawn chairs had already been taken by the others by the time the two of you finished cleaning up, leaving you to sit on the floor, not that you really minded— you got a better look at the few stars that were still visible in the sky this way, anyway.

“The one that never stopped for us?” Soobin asks, causing you to laugh with a soft nod, “I hated that truck.”

“But it had the best ice cream though,” Hueningkai says, you and Soobin craning your heads back to where the boy sat in the corner, curled up in his chair and staring back with drowsy eyes, “nothing could top it.”

“Maybe ‘cause we had to run down two blocks to catch it,” Yeonjun interjects, smiling at the laughter he gets in response, countless memories seemingly flooding into everyone’s minds— the coin purses or ziplock bags that were clenched in your hands, the relentless sun that shined in your faces as you tried to yell at the ice cream truck to stop— the music must’ve drowned you all out, you think to yourself, because each time the old lady driving stopped for you guys, she always seemed to have a genuine shock that would paint her face. 

Oh my, you guys look so tired!

“I miss that lady,” you find yourself blurting out, unable to stop the nostalgia that drips through your words, “I miss those times.”

The air grows a bit heavy— you gulp, mentally scolding yourself as your friends fall into deep thought.

“This place does look a bit sadder, huh?” Taehyun wonders aloud, eyes drifting along the neighborhood; the once lively streets and lit up houses now barren, now dark, “a lot emptier.”

Silence. Though no one says it, you know they all agree. 

“But hey, that’ll fix itself soon!” Yeonjun pipes up, throwing an arm over Taehyun’s shoulder, shaking him out of his reverie; Yeonjun only grins, sending Hueningkai a knowing look, “we got our two geniuses working on the magic cure. It’ll get finished in no time at this point.”

“I don’t know about that,” Taehyun scoffs lightheartedly, shrugging off Yeonjun’s arm, “it’s a lot more complicated than you think.”

You all recognize that little trail off in Taehyun’s sentence: there’s more to his words than he wants to tell. Beomgyu is curious enough to be the first to bite the bait.

“More complicated than we think?” Beomgyu echoes, cocking his head to the side and raising a brow, “what do you mean? Is there something weird going on behind the scenes?”

“No,” Taehyun quickly says, causing all of you to stare at him in clear disbelief, “Well, I can’t tell you anyway.”

“So there is?” Hueningkai asks— when you send him a confused look, the said man only shrugs. “Hey, I’m in a different department, I’m not directly involved in making the thing.”

All eyes are back on Taehyun in search of answers. 

“Well,” he sputters, actively avoiding all ten pairs of eyes that keep track of his every movement, “I… even I don’t know, honestly; they’re not letting me take too much of a direct part in making the solutions— I’ve never even seen the test subjects they gather.

“There’s like. A division of three people that are directly involved with the test subjects. The rest of us only receive vague feedback and instructions.”

“Creepy,” you shudder, Soobin nodding along at your exclamation, “sounds like they’re hiding something.”

Taehyun doesn’t refute your words; if anything, his brows knit together in thought. 

“They said they’re gonna release an update of the first test subjects tomorrow,” Yeonjun jumps up again, quick as always to relieve a tense mood, “they’re making it sound like it’s nothing but good news.

“This place will be back to normal before we know it,” Yeonjun smiles, eyes falling onto you knowingly, “the future will be better.”

You nod along to his statement, even if you don’t find yourself believing it. A silence falls shortly after, and you’re looking back up at the sky again.

“The stars look pretty tonight,” you mumble.

You hear a scoff behind you.

“What stars? There’s like two out.” 

“Do you always have to try to ruin my fun?”

The bickering is endless between you all— but it’s not malicious in the slightest. No, it feels normal, feels familiar, even as you make faces and gestures and call each other names. 

It feels like home, and it feels like the only thing that makes you hope for the future.

[taglist // bold usernames could not be tagged.] @0x11s @boba-beom @icouldntcareless22 @fairyofshampgyu @heeharmony @yunho-mp3 @yyeonzi @beomfrost @wolfytae-exe @basicallyanothernotebook @archoive @mapofthemazeinthemirror @kaisplushies @agustdiv1ne @matcha-binz @mwahvvis @marksluvr0

[allysunny]

Shadows to Stars | Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Synopsys: One night, your seemingly perfect life with your boyfriend Miguel crumbles before your very eyes. It is then you must make a decision that will change the course of your life forever - as well as the course of the life growing inside of you.

Words: 12k

Warnings: Angst, violence, mentions of death and abortion, pregnancy, Miguel is scary and a bitch. Spanish translations will be at the end. Do tell if I forgot something!

A/N: Hey everyone! Here's the super long oneshot I promised you all I would deliver! Since in both polls I made, the majority of y'all voted for one post, I'm posting this as one big drabble. Honestly, it kind of transformed as I was writing it, and I got carried away. Beware, Miguel is a monster in here, he is NOT a good person and I do not condone his actions in this work.

Also, quick aside, I'm using my own experience with toddlers and kids (namely my little sister) to shape some of the dialogue. Kids are very smart, and oftentimes we don't give them enough credit. I tried to keep this realistic!

The song mentioned is Querida by Juan Gabriel - I suggest listening to it!

Enjoy! :)

“This is such bullshit.” Was the first thought that crossed your mind. That’s not how gravity worked. The impossible stunt performed by the actor in the TV left you unimpressed, and you scolded yourself mentally for it. You sound exactly like him. Just enjoy the movie, will you?

You shake your head with a sigh, focusing on the screen in front of you. You’d been meaning to watch this one for a while, all your friends said it was simply the best of the saga just yet. “I can’t believe they’re making another one, just let the saga die!” You replied, but your best friend Miranda was quick to disagree. “How could they, after ending the last one in such a cliffhanger?” She was defending the movie as if her life depended on it. “Besides, Com Truise looks really hot in this one, he’s aging like fine wine”.

So here you were, trying to figure out how the hell Wethan Runt was gonna get himself out of this situation. This was the… Sixth? Seventh? Seventh Improbable Endeavor movie so far, and you wondered why they couldn’t just let the series die. It was simply too much at this point, a way to milk a famous franchise in order to earn money.

“Mommy?” A small, tremulous voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked at where it came from.

A small child looked at you from behind the living room door, his hand tightly clutching a teddy bear. Your son had just turned 4 and was the most precious thing the world had ever blessed you with. With soft brown curls and [e/c] eyes, he looked like a little cherubin, all chubby cheeks and dimpled smiles. You adored him.

“Yes, baby? What’s wrong?” You asked, furrowing a brow. However, there was no need for a reply. You knew what the answer was already. “Another one?”

Gabriel nodded softly, tears forming in his eyes, and fear turning in his tummy.

“The same?”

He nodded again, the tears now rolling down his round cheeks. The sight of your pouting son broke your heart. For a few months now he had been plagued with the same nightmare repeatedly: A brightly coloured spider sinking its teeth onto him, proceeding to devour him whole right after. It wasn’t a pleasant dream, and unfortunately, it felt too familiar. Not to you, but perhaps to someone who once used to be close.

“Oh honey…” Your voice was soft, as it usually was with Gabriel. You knew nothing else when you were with him. “I’m so sorry… C’mere baby, do you want to sleep near mommy tonight?”

Gabriel shook his head “yes” softly, a small breath leaving his mouth. He was glad you’d asked him that. He didn’t want to look like a baby, not in front of his mom. Not when she told him he was her brave boy all the time. He had to be a brave boy for his mama.

“Mama…” He breathed out, tears pooling at his feet. “Mama I’m sorry…”

“Honey?” Now you were worried. He looked so scared; your precious baby looked so scared. “Honey, c’mere…”

“I can’t…” He whispered, shaking his little head. “Mama I had an accident… I’m sorry… I made the bed wet…”

Your heart officially broke.

Motherly instinct was stronger than you, and within a few seconds, you had picked Gabriel up, shushing him and running your fingers through his brown locks.

“It’s okay honey, it’s okay…” You cooed as he buried his face on the crook of your neck, hiding away from all the troubles, from all the monsters and creepy spiders that threatened to hurt him. His mama always made the monsters go away. You were his hero. “You’re such a brave boy, it’s okay… I’m not mad at you, alright? You’re so brave for me…”

Your hushed words were quick to soothe him. He stopped crying, occasionally sniffling and rubbing his eyes from the sleep.

You took him to the bathroom, quickly washed him and gave him a new pair of underwear. Gabriel knew how to use the toilet – potty training was never a problem because to him, the toilet meant he was a “grown up”. He was quick to tell you when he needed to use the bathroom, causing you to leave the diapers behind. Unfortunately, nightmares didn’t care about that.

He looked at you while you got rid of his wet sheets, throwing them in the washing machine, and his eyes were full of adoration while you prepared him his favourite chocolate milk.

Once he had finished it, you turned off the TV – Com Truise would have to wait – and took Gabriel to your room in your arms.

He made himself comfortable on your bed, teddy carefully placed by his side, and you followed suit after quickly brushing your teeth.

“I’m sorry mama…” He mumbled once again. “Maybe I’m not brave enough…”

“Nothing to be sorry about, honey. It’s okay. You’re still my brave little boy. You’ll always be.” Bending over, you placed a soft kiss on his forehead, and he smiled, which made your heart melt. For all the sadness and hurt you’d gone through and suffered, Gabriel was the best thing that had happened to you. He was an amazing kid: curious, kind to a fault, and oh so cute. Of course, it didn’t help that he was like a mini-version of his father, but you’d learned to live with it.

After all, he wasn’t a little Miguel O’Hara. He was simply Gabriel, your sweet Gabriel who marvelled at thunderstorms and loved broccoli but hated tomatoes. Who liked to play in puddles and splash around at the beach, who giggled uncontrollably when you tickled his little tummy.

“Can you sing the song for me?” He asked, voice laced with sleep. And you couldn’t find it in yourself to refuse your son in any way. You nodded and tucked his teddy closer and caressed his cheek.

“Of course, my love.”

You took a short breath and started singing.

“Querido Cada momento de mi vida Yo pienso en ti más cada día Mira mi soledad, mira mi soledad Que no me sienta nada bien, oh ven ya”

Miguel had taught you this song. It was one of his favourites, and you used to sing it to him when he felt stressed or tired. His head on your chest, on your lap, on your neck, your hands running through his hair, his heart on your palm, yours on his. The original song was meant for a girl. Querida was a woman. But you’d adjusted it for him, and never had the courage to change it back.

It was a song of heartbreak, of longing and hurt.

How fitting.

“Querido No me ha sanado bien la herida Te extraño y lloro todavía Mira mi soledad, mira mi soledad Que no me sienta nada bien, oh ven ya”

Glancing at the little one, you chuckled to yourself. Gabriel fell asleep quite quickly, especially when you sang for him. This was his favourite song too, and you’d gotten used to singing it to him nearly every night before he went to sleep.

For a few minutes, you stared at your son. Soon enough, after he’d fallen into a deep slumber, you adjusted his rebellious curls and brought him close to you, his little hand instinctively coming up to wrap itself around your finger.

It’s impossible to describe the love you felt for Gabriel. You’d do anything for him, walk to the ends of the earth if it meant he would smile and look at you with his bright curious eyes. What was there not to love? You couldn’t figure that out. And you couldn’t shake away the memory of when you first asked yourself that question. Not when it used to play in your head every night, no matter how hard you tried to keep it from your thoughts.

The paper read “Test indicates the presence of hCG hormone, confirming pregnancy”.

Oh.

You were pregnant.

If the cheap pharmacy test wasn’t enough proof, now you were absolutely positive you were pregnant.

You. Pregnant.

A mother.

You were going to be a mother.

And Miguel was going to be a father.

Was it possible to die of happiness? You always felt like you were floating with Miguel, but this was different. The thought that you had a little human, a baby, a child, a mini-you growing inside of your uterus? It was too much. To say you were over the moon was an understatement.

That day, you cooked Miguel his favourite.

You got him his favourite wine, mentioning how you were “feeling too light-headed to drink”, but inviting him to do so anyways.

You wore the dress he loved so much, the one that, according to him, made you look like “a princesa”.

Before he arrived, you placed the paper sheet with the results inside an envelope. Taking the lip gloss shade he loved so much, you painted your lips and placed a soft kiss on top of the envelope, the red stain its only decoration.

And just as you hid it within your apron, the doorbell rang.

“Miggy!” You exclaimed, running towards him.

Miguel looked tired – eyebags ever so prominent, face tired and devoid of any emotion. But these features changed once he laid his eyes on you. The exhaustion almost as if evaporated from him, the tired look replaced by a warm smile.

His arms wrapped around you instinctively, head coming to trail his lips over your collarbone, humming ever so slightly – if you didn’t know your boyfriend, you’d think he was silent.

“Amor…” He groaned, hands squeezing your waist, lips caressing your skin.

“Rough day?”

“Would sewing a bunch of kids’ mouths shut make me a bad person? Answer me honestly mi Cielo, I trust your good judgement…” Was his mumbled reply.

You laughed, skimming your hand through his hair, as the other rubbed soothing circles on his back.

“It wouldn’t be the most moral thing to do, no.”

“Mierda.”

Your laughter filled the room and it was healing. It lifted all his worried, carrying them to a place far, far from your soft touches and kind words. You were his safe space, his little secret. For all the technological advances he had access too, Miguel found the best remedy to be purely and simply you. And didn’t you look extra pretty today?

You were always breathtaking, but that dress… Surely you knew what his thoughts on that dress were. You had to be doing it on purpose.

So, he let you lead him to the shower, covering his body with sweet kisses and kneading the tense and sore muscles of his back and shoulders. He let you wash his hair, giggling as you played with it, turning his soapy curls into a mohawk. He let you cover his body with body milk, rambling on about “it makes his skin so soft and healthy”.

He loved you. How could he not? What was there not to love?

And you loved him back just as much.

The way Miguel smiled as he took bite after bite of your food. He refused to talk about his day, claiming it’d only make him angrier. He’d much rather hear about yours.

So, you did just that, telling him about the things you did, the places you went. The new supermarket that opened just down the street with fresh fruit, the old market where you got the meat he’s eating right now, etc.

You were always out and about, keeping yourself busy while he saved Nueva York, volunteering, working with children, helping elderly people, or perhaps, if you were feeling lazy and tired, maybe just lounging around with a book in your hand.

It was when Miguel offered to do the dishes that you realised it was now or never. Time to shoot your shot.

You waited patiently for him, leading them to the couch once the kitchen was sparkling once again, and sat him next to you on the couch.

“Miguel, there’s something I wanna show you…” Was how you started. Goodness, had you always been this nervous? Were your hands this clammy? Why weren’t any words coming out of your mouth? Your breath was quickening, and a million questions were running freely through your head.

You didn’t think this through, did you? What if he’s not happy? But that is impossible, right? You two spoke about this. Miguel wanted a baby. So did you. You knew of his past, knew of Gabriella. But you also knew he was healing. You saw it happen before your very eyes. First there were the small glances, the small comments about baby clothing, and then there were conversations of children, of family. And of course, there was the trying. In fact, Miguel was more than invested in trying for a baby. “Just give me one more,” He’d whisper in the intimacy of your bedroom, “Wanna make sure it takes.” And you were soft and giddy and in love and oh so pliant for him.

And yet, it could go wrong. So many things could go wrong.

“Mi vida, what’s wrong? You look worried…” Miguel furrowed his brow, hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, the way he did when he wanted to see your face more clearly. His face had “worry” written all over it, and it’d be funny, if you yourself weren’t shaking with anxiety.

“Yes, I… I’m fine, just… Give me some time.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

Nothing would go wrong. Miguel loves you. Endlessly, and he’ll love your child just the same. You’re sure of it.

“I need to show you something.” You said more clearly, looking him in the eye. “I… I love you, Miguel. So, so much. Unimaginably so. I love you. I love everything about you.”

He smiled. A genuine smile, one saved for you and only you.

“I love you too, mi vida. Te amo con todo mi ser. Eres la luz de mi vida.”

Shit, it did things to you. Him speaking Spanish, that was. You’d been learning, just for him, and while you weren’t yet a professional, you’d picked on his endearing phrases quite early. In fact, those were the first you learned – you wanted to be able to understand the sweet nothings he whispered to you in the comfort of your home.

“I… I’m scared you won’t… At least not anymore, when I show you this…” You confessed with bated breath, shrugging your shoulders ever so slightly. Communicating your worries and fears with Miguel had never been an issue. He was very open, telling you whatever was on his mind with no hesitation. It had taken a while, but now he trusted you fully, and your relationship was based on trust and understanding.

“Mi vida…” He murmured, fingers slowly cupping your jaw. “Unless you ate the last empanada in the cafeteria, there’s nothing you could do that would make me love you less…” It got a chuckle out of you, and a smile out of him. Good. It was all he ever wanted to see; you with a smile on your face.

“Well then…” The words were muffled by the ruffling of your apron.

You took out the envelope and sighed.

This was it.

It was now or never.

Fuck, you were going to puke. This was simply too much. You were so worried, so scared.

But before you could do anything, he had carefully taken the envelope in his hands and opened it, smiling at the lipstick stain.

Oh god. This was it.

He unfolded the paper.

There was no turning back now.

He read the words attentively, curious about what had gotten you so worked up. You observed his face, his calm demeanour, his brow furrowing, his lips parting, his eyes widening-

“What?”

It was nearly imperceptible, but it was there, and you heard it.

His eyes scanned over the words again.

And then again.

And then again.

And then again and again and again and again, until his fists clenched the paper, and he was turning away from you.

“Estás… Estás embarazada…?”

“Miggy…?” You tried getting a glimpse of his expression, but he refused to look at you again.

“Is this true…? You’re pregnant?” There was something in his voice, something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. Grief, perhaps? Anger? Surprise?

His knuckles turned white, and the paper sheet was quickly torn in two.

“M-Miguel?” Your eyes went to his knuckles and the paper. Oh no. This couldn’t be good. There’s no way this is good.

“You’re PREGNANT?” He turned to face you, his eyes a dark shade of red. His voice boomed and you flinched. It was an instinct, truly. The paper was left forgotten on the floor as he balled his fists in his lap, as if he was restricting himself.

“Aren’t you happy?” The words left your mouth as a mere whisper, all of the confidence and bravado from earlier completely gone. What the hell was going on with Miguel? He looked angry, feral, like… No, you did not want to think about it. Surely, he was just a bit surprised, right? That must be all. “Miggy? Aren’t you ha- “

“How did this happen?!” He growled, and you could do all but scoff. Was he actually serious? Did he not know how pregnancies happened? Did he not know how babies were made? Wasn’t he there when you two were actively trying to get you pregnant?

“Gee, Miguel, I don’t know, maybe it happened one of the times you pushed me up against the kitchen sink or the couch as soon as you got home, claiming you ‘needed me so badly’. Maybe it happened because we’ve been trying for a baby, because you said you were ready to start a family with me.” Was he being serious right now? It’s not like birth control was 100% effective – you had always warned him of that – and it’s not like he always used protection – something you both discussed as well. So how come he was asking ‘how it had happened?’. “We don’t always use protection, you know, these things happen- “

“How could you let this happen?!” Miguel stood up, his frame towering over you. And for once in your life, you felt something you’d never even imagined you’d fear when with Miguel – let alone because of him: fear.

“What? Me?” Your eyes widened, refusing to believe the words that he’d just uttered. “How is this my fault? Last time I checked, it took two people to make a baby, Miguel. And you wanted one. Holy – Miguel, what is wrong with you? We’ve been wanting a child for so long!” It wasn’t until the tears hit your palms that you realised you were crying. It hit you shortly after, Miguel made you cry. “Honey, please, just… Aren’t you happy?” You forced a smile through the tears, hoping to get him as excited as you were.

“Happy?!”

“Yeah!” Tear after tear escaped from your eyes, tracing paths down your face. You’d been so excited to find out you were going to be a mother. Fantasizing about holding your child, caressing their chubby cheeks, watching as you and Miguel doted over the tiny human that was both a mixture of him and you. And now those fantasies were shattered as Miguel paced back and forth in your living room, giving you a look that could kill you by itself. “I thought… I thought you wanted a family with me…! You said so Miggy, you told me you wanted to start a family…”

He all but scowled and threw a punch at a wall, cracking the surface around his fist. You flinched once again, shaking your head repeatedly. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t your Miggy, no. This wasn’t the man that whispered the sweetest words in your ear, who woke you up with gentle kisses, who placed gentle hands on your stomach and wondered about the family you would once start.

“Clearly, I changed my mind.” Your boyfriend – no, because there was no way this man was your boyfriend – rumbled, removing his hand from the wall, and inspecting it. “I… We… [Y/N], we can’t. Perdóname. I’m sorry. I know what I said, but… No. This is out of the question.”

“I don’t get it,” You shook your head. This whole thing seemed so farfetched – Miguel wanted a child. He had told you as much. Hell, you two had been trying for a baby. On purpose. How could he just tell you “No”? “Miguel, we wanted this. I’m pregnant because we wanted to start a family, because you told me you were ready and wouldn’t love anything more other than me holding your child, Miguel, I’m pregnant because we wanted this! And you need to take responsibility for your actions, you can’t just blame me for this when we were bo-“

“I don’t have to do anything. This is completely out of the question. I thought I wanted a child, well, turns out I don’t.” He was spitting the words so viciously, you could’ve easily mistaken them for poison. “Having a child now would complicate things too much.”

“Complicate?”

“Yes, complicate. Our lives shouldn’t be changing too drastically because of a baby. I’m sorry, [Y/N], but we can’t. We just… No. “ He didn’t even  have the decency of facing you. He was looking at the hole he’d punched into the wall, frowning.

“But Miguel…” You pleaded. You truly couldn’t understand what was happening. You could not understand why he wasn’t thrilled, excited, over the moon, spinning you around as he kissed your face and pledged his undying love to you. Undeterred, you take your hand in his and place it on your stomach, on the place your child would live for a few months before you had the joy of holding him (or her) in your arms. A smile, albeit a small one, graced your features once again. “We’ve been… We’ve been wishing for this…”

Miguel took a good look at you. He glanced up and down, taking your figure in. Your red eyes, your runny nose, your puffy lips. The tears, the hurt in your gaze. All because of him. He was hurting you. You truly wanted this, didn’t you? And didn’t he want the same? Hadn’t he told you time and time again how much he wanted to start a family with you? Weren’t you trying? Wasn’t he finally healing?

So why was it that the only thing he felt for the growing foetus inside of you was disdain?

He removed his hand from yours and shook his head.

“Get rid of it.”

Your jaw dropped.

What?

“Miguel? Honey, I…”

“Get. Rid of it.” He spat, eyes glowing bright red. “Or I will.”

You stared at him, mouth slightly parted, heart turning and churning and burning and hurting oh so much. How could he? His child, his own child… How could he say such things? How could he be so merciless? How could he want to… to kill the child you’d loved so unconditionally, even if for the past few hours?

It was horrifying. There was no word for it, it was truly horrifying, the way your Miguel was treating this matter. You’d looked at him with tears in your eyes, hoping that something, anything would leave your lips. But he’d opened a portal and left for HQ, leaving you alone in the middle of your living room.

So, you did the only rational thing.

You ran.

Jessica had helped you, along with Peter B. Parker.

Both were parents, so not only did they understand the way you felt towards your unborn baby, but also encourage you in your decision to leave Miguel. It broke Peter’s heart to find out the man that took care of the Spider Society had threatened to hurt his child and pregnant wife in the way.

But much to his sadness, he would have to act as if everything was fine and dandy, as if this man hadn’t threatened to kill a foetus, as if he wasn’t a monster. Peter would have to keep on interacting with him normally, in order not to raise suspicion. And so would Jess.

So, they did.

All traces of your existence had been removed from your shared apartment. Clothes, shoes, blankets. Anything that he could use to get the faintest trace of where you were was brought along with you, only his things and his things alone left behind.

It broke your heart to do it, but you had no choice. It was him or your unborn child, and although you’d known of your pregnancy for only a few hours, you were willing to do anything to assure its safety already.

You laid low for a while. Found a nice apartment where you could start over and build a life for yourself and your little one. Peter and Jess couldn’t keep you from going outside, so instead of trapping you, they helped disguise you. Both your appearance and scent changed every time you left the safety of your new home, with Jessica’s motherly instinct helping you find safety in new wigs and robes.

And so, your pregnancy went smoothly.

But it’s not to say it was easy – far from it.

Watching a baby grow inside of you all by yourself was terrifying. Not only was it terrifying, but it was also heartbreaking. Especially when the father of said baby had threatened you and him. It was even worse when you heard from Jessica that he was actively looking for you, coaxing every Spider in the Spider-Society to find you and destroy whatever was growing in your womb. How could he be so cruel? The possibility of someone killing your child just like that was frightening, but you managed to keep your fears aside for the well-being of your baby.

You could count with your fingers the peaceful nights you spent without a newborn toddler screaming and crying for your attention. For four whole years you were both mother and father, nursing and singing your baby to sleep whenever he was scared, kissing his wounds better, taking him to school, helping him talk and walk, watching him grow, looking over him the best you could.

There was no helping hand, no strong arms to hold your stomach during the day to ease your back pains, no soft rubs, and kisses on top of your belly at night, no proud displays of affection. When you gave birth to Gabriel, although surrounded by Peter and Jessica, there was no loving boyfriend or partner by your side, kissing your tears away, asking you to push, telling you you were “almost there”, holding your child in his arms and crying tears of joy, telling you you were oh so beautiful, to tell you that you were marvellous and miraculous and the most gorgeous woman alive.

While your heart could burst from the happiness of holding your son in your arms for the first time, it was also breaking at the realisation that, even if you had friends, there would be a major gap in your life that would scar you and your baby forever.

And there of course the questions. Gabriel was reaching his curious phase, and one time he had come home, asking why he did not have a daddy like his friends. That day you’d tried explaining it to him. You told him his father’s actions did not make you feel safe, and so you had to make the tough decision to protect the both of you and run away. You assured him that no matter what, you would love him unconditionally, that you were still a family, even if an unconventional one.

His reply was “Thank you mama, but I want a real daddy like my friends have!”

Tears streamed down your face until you fell asleep.

Gabriel was right. Even if he did not mean anything mean by it, even if his reply was something out of a clueless 3-year-old boy’s mouth and you shouldn’t take it to heart because he didn’t quite grasp the reality of your situation… It was still true. He needed a father, his father. You could try and try and try all you wanted, but he needed a father figure in his life, a role you’d never be able to fill.

The next day, you called Jessica and cried on her shoulders for a few hours while Gabriel was in school. She made up some stupid lie in order to be with you for the whole day, reminding you that children often said things they did not mean. Gabriel was a child; and children were way too straightforward, and it was not his intention to hurt you – wanting a father was a completely normal thing and you shouldn’t blame yourself for it.

But you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt.

At first, the life you shared with Gabriel was terrifying. What if Jessica said the wrong thing, or Peter made a mistake? Thankfully, they behaved remarkably well, always prioritizing your safety and well-being over their duties to Miguel. As time went by, more people were in on your little secret. And you couldn’t help but worry. What if Hobie decided to “stick it to the man” and inform Miguel of his son? What if Pav thought “the power of love” could fix everything? What if Gwen and Miles tried to talk some sense into his head?

But luckily for you, they were all as interested at keeping Gabriel under wraps as you were. And the reason it was so easy for you to keep Gabriel away from his father was also because of Lyla. She’d witnessed the whole exchange of course, being an artificial intelligent program meant that she was everywhere Miguel habited – and that meant his home. So, she too was in on your plan, keeping everything away from Miguel. Every visit from the Spider-People, every time Gwen or Miles babysat your kid, every time something remotely urgent happened, Lyla was there to cover your tracks, and everyone else’s.

You also suspected everyone else in HQ helped, refusing to let Miguel murder an innocent child, or even help him with it. You were grateful.

Miguel was completely in the dark, he had been for 4 whole years, and you were happy it was like this.

Your son got to grow up in peace, and you got to watch him. Or so you thought.

“Honey, have you washed your teeth?” You asked as your son made his way out of the bathroom. Before he could answer, you spotted the stain of toothpaste on his chin, and bent over to quickly wash it. “There. Dashing.”

Gabriel smiled a toothy grin at you. “I’m wearing my Snoopy PJs!”

“Well, you’ll always be dashing to me. Snoopy PJs or any other kind of PJs.” You poke his tummy softly and he bends over, as ticklish as always. Before you can open your arms and embrace him, your ringtone rings through the room. You wink at Gabriel and take your phone into your hands, looking at the name on the screen.

“Oh honey, it’s auntie Jess. Give me a few minutes and I’ll tuck you in, is that okay?”

“I wanna speak to auntie Jess!” He exclaimed excitedly, to which you nodded, before picking up.

“Hey Jess! What’s up?”

“He found you.” Was all you heard on the other line before you felt your stomach fall.

What?

You couldn’t make out her words at first, but slowly, everything around you came to your consciousness again.

“Take him and go. [Y/N], can you hear me? You have to leave. I’m so sorry, we don’t know how he found out, but you need to take him and leave, now.” Jessica repeated these words urgently like a chant, and yet, all you could do was stare at Gabriel, his big eyes round and bright, his head titled to the side as he often did when confused, the little triangle in his brow all Miguel O’Hara.

You couldn’t move. Miguel had found out.

Shit.

And then someone knocked on your door. Loudly. Repeatedly. The sound echoed and rang in your ears, and it was Gabriel who brought you back to your senses by hugging your leg.

“Mama?” He inquired, looking at the door.

“Stay here. You hear me? Stay here, do mama a favour and stay here. Can you do that?”

Gabriel gave you a quick salute, a smile playing in his lips. He probably thought this was some silly game in which he acted like a big boy and his mama high-fived him and made him some chocolate milk as a reward. But unfortunately for you, there was nothing silly about this.

Your feet slowly dragged themselves to the front door, and you mustered all of the strength you had to open it.

With a deep breath, you turned the knob and pushed it open, revealing no one other than the one you feared the most.

Miguel.

You try to block the entire door with your figure, but Miguel is tall. Incredibly so. And while it used to make you squirm and gush and blush, it now fills you with a sense of dread you cannot shake away.

He takes a step forward and you speak, voice sounding braver than you were feeling.

“Leave.”

“[Y/N].”

“Miguel, I’m warning you, leave.”

He grumbled something under his breath and took another step, looking directly under him – at you. You used to love when he did it. It made you feel safe, protected, cherished. Now all you want is for him to back off.

“I do not want to force you. Let me come in, or I’ll have to. Please. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.” The worst thing about Miguel was that when it came to you, he was always genuine. He never lied to you. And that did not change now. He looked almost… Scared. There was a mix of anger and sadness and… was that betrayal? In his eyes?

Nevertheless, it made you vulnerable. Such a hurtful expression from the one you once loved… You couldn’t lie and say it did not make your heart twist a few times.

“He threatened to kill your child. His child, too.” You told yourself, shaking all those soft feelings away. No use being weak, not when you wanted to protect your son.

Still, he looked genuine when he said he did not want to hurt you. And it’s not like you can take him on your own, the man is literally 6’9, built like a Greek god, and Spiderman. You wouldn’t stand a chance, and your son needs to be protected. So, you slowly back away from the door, keeping your front to Miguel and your back to Gabriel.

You take a few steps back and are about to ask him what he wants, when a small voice interrupts you.

“Mama? Who is this?” Your son, your sweet, caring, clueless son asked, his neck craning all the way up to get a good look at Miguel.

Gabriel was a big fan of Spiderman – much to your chagrin – so the thought that maybe Miguel was wearing his suit terrified you. The last thing you wanted was for your son to idolize the man who threatened to kill him while he was nothing more than just a foetus. You quickly turned, taking in Miguel fully.

He was clad in casual clothes, a white shirt underneath a black leather jacket. He was dressed normally, thank God.

Miguel’s eyes widened at the tiny voice, and he looked at the child before him.

His eyes widened.

It all clicked in his head.

His eyes darted from you to him, from him to you, over and over and over and over again. He seemed to be making the connection in his head. Soft brown curls, furrowed brow, tiny nose that resembled yours and bright eyes that belonged to none other than the woman he loved.

This was his son.

“Mama?” He asked once again, tiny hands grasping at the loose sweatpants you usually wore around the house. Tiny fists curled around the fabric as he hid behind you.

You stared, wide-eyed at Miguel. You were silently begging for him not to cause a scene, not here, not in front of your baby, most certainly not at all.

“Please…” You whisper, nudging your head towards the little guy by your feet.

After a few seconds of dead silence and a stare off, Miguel hung his head low and nodded. You sighed in relief.

“Honey, time for bed. Mommy’s gonna tuck you in, alright?” Gabriel nodded and clung to you as you picked him up securely in your arms. Tucking his little hair in the crook of your neck, you slowly took his scent in. Citrus shampoo, the lavender fabric conditioner you knew he liked, he smelled like your darling song through and through, untainted by the evil and darkness of the world, untainted by the hands and knowledge of his father.

Once he was all tucked in, teddy loyally by his side, Gabriel reached out to hold your hand in his tiny hand.

“Mama?” He probed quietly, drowsy eyes twinkling with the gentle glow his dinosaur lampshade.

“Yes, honey?” He was about to ask about the mysterious man in your living room, you were sure of it. You just weren’t quite sure what you were going to tell him yet. The truth? He couldn’t know. At least not now. Not when Miguel was just a few rooms away, waiting patiently for you. Not when you had no idea if he was still violent.

“Who is that man?” Gosh, he looked so much like his father. The furrowed brow, the squinted eyes, and pouty lips. When he was born, you huffed and puffed to Peter, saying how unfair it was that your son had inherited Miguel’s looks, even though you were the one breaking your back to carry him – and then later, take care of him.

“He’s… He’s an old friend.” Technically not a lie. Miguel had been your friend once.

“Is he the one in the pictures that make you cry?”

Oh.

What?

Noticing your confused expression, Gabriel spoke again, shrugging.

“Sometimes you cry in the living room when you look at pictures… Is he the one in them?”

Were children supposed to be this curious? Or perceptive?

How come he had picked up on you crying? It was true, sometimes your hands instinctively reached out to the old photo albums you kept on the top shelf of your living room wall cabinet, far from his reach.

There was no need to lie to your son – not when he was so smart and cared so much, not when he was so perceptive.

“Yeah, baby.” You sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He is.”

“Why do you cry? Did he do something to make you sad?” The worry in his eyes was inevitable. If the situation weren’t so scary, you’d laugh. Your sweet child, always so worried about you.

“Yeah, he did. He made mommy very sad, that’s why she cries.”

“Did you like him?”

Tears prickled at the corner of your eyes, and you fought them back. “Be strong”, you thought. You always played the part of the strong caretaker, the fearless mother who protected him against the dangers of the world – but right now, with Miguel waiting outside, you weren’t sure you were strong enough anymore.

“Yes, pumpkin. Very much. Very, very much.” You removed your hand from his hair and moved it to his round, chubby cheek. “Mommy loved her friend a lot. And I was very sad when he hurt me. Incredibly so.”

“Do you miss him?”

The question hung in the air.

Miguel was still asleep.

Today was one of those days he had decided to remain home, take a break from all the stressing Spiderman stuff and just relax.

He looked so handsome like this, lips slightly parted to breathe in and out, cheek smushed against his pillow, legs entwined with yours, arm lazily thrown across your waist. You loved him like this, before the burdens and responsibilities of the suit dawned upon him, before he was a superhero and was simply Miggy.

You’d been tenderly running a hand through his curls, enjoying the view before you. Such a handsome man, such a kind soul. Sure, he was rough with everyone else, but with you? Away from the prying eyes and annoying questions? Away from the screens and all of the Spider Society duties?

He was plush. Soft, sweet, mellow, delicate.

You were whipped for this man, truly.

He stirred awake next to you, grumbling something in Spanish you couldn’t quite hear, and shuffled closer, lips quick to latch onto the column of your neck.

“Buenos dias hermosa…” He murmured against your skin, voice groggy and deep, earning the sweetest sigh from you. His grip on your waist tightened and you turned to him, smiling. He was such a vision.

“Morning, handsome.” You smiled, tugging on his curls to tilt his head towards you. He chuckled and kissed you tenderly, as if you were a figment of a dream he hadn’t yet abandoned and could disappear at any time.

You decided to remind him you weren’t going anywhere, pressing yourself against him to kiss him harder, obtaining the most delicious moan from your boyfriend. He pulled you closer by your waist, and with a quick movement, was on top of you, arms and hands caging you beneath his figure.

“Felling cheeky, aren’t we, mi vida?”

“I’m just kissing you Miguel, nothing cheeky about that.” You were quick to defend yourself, giving him a smug look.

He lowered himself, ghosting his lips over yours, almost as if on the brink of promising the entire world to you. Instead of doing that, he laid down, hair barely grazing your breasts as he placed soft kisses on your stomach.

You knew this look.

For a while now, the conversations about children and family had become more frequent. Miguel would catch you staring at baby clothes at the mall, or interacting with toddlers who looked and waved at you, and his heart melted. You had mentioned wanting a family before but were waiting on his signal. You knew Miguel had gone through something horrible – losing the family the way he did… You couldn’t imagine how that must’ve felt.

So, you waited.

And lately, he seemed to be on the same page.

Last week, when you two had gone to the mall, he’d found you staring at a baby blue stroller, and the expecting couple examining it. You sighed, hands slowly trailing up to your stomach. Someday you hoped that would be you.

And it was then Miguel realised that he would want nothing more than to see you pregnant with his child, round and soft and plush and his, for the whole world to see.

He could picture it, you sitting in your garden, sunbathing and applying lotions on your baby bump, and him, by your side, kissing your forehead and placing his hand on your stomach to feel his child kick.

You, waddling over to him when your cravings got the better of you, begging him to get you some pickles and strawberry jam, promising nothing in this world you make you happier or satisfy you more – even if the combination did seem disgusting. ~

You, sitting down on a big chair, breasts exposed as you gently nursed your child. Your baby would have its tiny, miniscule hand on your chest as he drank your milk, and Miguel would be watching from the doorway as you fed your son, before placing him to sleep.

He could see himself too.

Playing with his child in the park, teaching his son how to play football, helping his daughter score goals, lifting his child over his head once they won their first game, reading them bedtime stories and saying “Don’t tell your mom” whenever they got into trouble.

It was all so very vivid.

“Miguel?”

He could picture it all, reach before him and grasp it.

“Honey?”

How pretty you would look, all swollen with his child.

“Earth to Miguel?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he sighed, kissing your stomach.

“Mi vida, I think…” He looked up at you, fondness and love nearly spilling from his gorgeous brown eyes and held your hand in his. “I think… How would you feel about starting a family with me?”

There. It was out. He’d said it.

And although he knew what your answer would be, his heart still flipped when your eyes turned into crescents, and your lips curled into a gorgeous smile.

“A family? With me? Really?” You sounded so fucking happy; it made his heart swell. Was it possible to love someone as much as he loved you?

“Yeah,” Miguel replied, and pressed his hand against your stomach. He could almost feel it. Picture your baby bump, feel the soft kicking of your child against your stomach, a silent reminder that it was alive and breathing and waiting to meet you. “A family. You and I and our child… What do you say?”

You giggle – you giggle! And por Dios if it isn’t the most gorgeous sound he has ever had the blessing of hearing. If anyone asked what Miguel’s favourite type of music was, he’d probably say it was the sound of your laughter. Either that, or the pretty mewls you make for him when it’s late and he’s needy and you’re oh so pliant.

“I say it’s perfect!” Hands fly to his hair, and suddenly he’s being pulled towards you, lips hungrily crashing onto his. You kissed him with everything you had. All of the love you felt for him, the love you felt for the family that was yet to come, the joy, the laughter, you tried expressing it all through this kiss.

And he smiled because nothing would ever make him as happy as you do. Nothing would ever get him to smile as much as you do. Nothing would ever complete his life the way you did, and he was so, so grateful for that. He kissed you back, hands carefully placing themselves on your hips to steady you, yours gripping his jaw to bring him closer.

When you parted away from air, he looked at you through lidded eyes, a very familiar form of desire dancing in the brown of his irises. You smiled sheepishly and watched him shrug his shoulders.

“Well, I guess… Since we’re on the topic of baby making…” He whispered near your ear, relishing in the full body shiver it elicited from you.

“Now who’s the cheeky one?” You faced him, brow comically raised at him.

You were so cute; Miguel could just eat you up.

And there was no one to stop him.

“Shh, hermosa, don’t give me that.” Barely a whisper, and yet it made heat pool in your lower belly, and your face warm upr. “I’m just saying, we should start practicing.”

With one swift movement, he was between your legs and your laughter filled the room.

Everything seemed right in the world.

Not at all. Not anymore.

“No, I don’t.” You absentmindedly ran your finger through Gabriel’s hair, “Not anymore. Right now, I have you, and you’re all I need.”

“Do you want me to draw a picture for you? I can draw a giraffe because I know you like them, and then you’ll smile and be happy.” This got a chuckle out of you. Always trying to cheer you up, this one, no matter what.

“Mommy would love it if you drew her a picture of a giraffe. It’d make me super happy.”

“Okay then! I’m gonna do it tomorrow, and I’m gonna use the crayons Mrs. Camille gave me, so it will look extra special –“ Before your son could continue, you smiled and ran an index finger from his forehead to the tip of his nose, a small gesture between the two of you, one that had a bazillion meanings. But right now it meant something around “Time for bed”.

Gabriel looked up sheepishly, shrugging.

“Can you sing for me?”

You felt slightly self-conscious about singing to him, especially since Miguel was standing right in the other room, and you used to sing this song to him.

“Let him hear”, you thought. He meant nothing to you anymore. This song was no longer his.

The song came to you naturally as you stroked Gabriel’s curls and watched his cheeks huff and puff, his slow breathing reminding you that he was here, safe and sound.

“Querido Cada momento de mi vida Yo pienso en ti más cada día Mira mi soledad, mira mi soledad Que no me sienta nada bien, oh ven ya”

All it took was one single stanza and he was already fast asleep. You chuckled to yourself and kissed the top of his forehead. He looked so peaceful; you took a mental picture of this moment.

Because perhaps, it’d be the last one you’d have.

You took a deep breath and stood up, not wanting to delay what was to come any more. Miguel was standing in your living room. You couldn’t hide from him forever, and you weren’t going to.

Closing Gabriel’s door, you decided to once and for all, face the man who had broken your heart four years ago.

The fact that he spoke to you first didn’t surprise you – Miguel had always been straightforward. It was what he said that caught you off guard.

“Was that…?” He asked, clearly referring to the song.

Stay strong. Don’t waver. You have to be strong for your family.

“Yes. Yes, it was Querida.” Your voice sounded certain, confident. You weren’t feeling very confident, but the taste it left on your tongue was quite nice. It made you feel more and want more. A placebo, maybe, but right now, you took all the help you could get.

Miguel chuckled dryly, running a hand through his hair.

“Wow. I haven’t heard that song in… What? Four? Maybe five years?” How dare he act like everything was normal? Like you had simply forgotten to sing it for him, like instead of Querida, you’d started singing Para Siempre from Doreen Montalvo. He seemed too at ease.

“Yes, well. How sad.”

He stared at you, unsure of what to say. And was that regret on his face? Regret? Fear? You couldn’t tell. And it’s not like it mattered – Miguel had to leave. That much was final.

“And… And, well…” He stammered, eyes darting behind you, to the closed door of your son’s room. “He…”

“He’s yours.” You cut him off coldly. Why was he dancing around the subject? Miguel looked at you and swallowed harshly, scratching the back of his neck. You wouldn’t let him be meek and weak, you couldn’t. He had no right to. “What? Wasn’t that what you were going to ask?”

Miguel straightened himself, regaining some of the composure he’d lost earlier.

“I see.” He nodded and nudged his head towards your kitchen – that’s when you saw it.

“I did your dishes.”

Your brow furrows and your eyes widen all at once.

Your dishes?

“You were tucking, um, our, well, your, um… The kid. You were tucking him in, and I thought maybe I could be of help.” He looked so earnest it almost hurt you. Ever the gentleman, your Miggy. When you were together, no matter how late he got home, no matter how tired he was, Miguel still made time to help around the house. Cleaning, cooking, doing whatever it took to make sure you had no extra burdens.

But right now?

You didn’t care if he was Spiderman, you didn’t care if he was nearly 7 feet tall and wide and strong enough to snap you in two – you wanted to punch him in the face. Oh, so badly.

The anger took over you and you scoffed at him.

“Oh! You wanted to help, huh?” You leaned against the couch and raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “I see. Well, thank you for the help, Miguel. Unfortunately for you, I don’t need you to take care of household chores for me. Washing a few plates isn’t going to change anything.”

He winced at your words. Good.

“I just thought –“

“Well, you thought wrong.” You interrupt him once again. This conversation is not going to be about him. He’s not the victim, he’s not the vulnerable one. He doesn’t get to be vulnerable.

“[Y/N], we need to talk.”

“No, we don’t. You need to leave, and I need to get some sleep.”

“No, please, we need to talk. We have to.” He sounded desperate. Goodness, you loved it. His eyes were filled with something you’d never seen before. The bags under them reveal he must not have been getting a lot of sleep, and he kept pinching the bridge of his nose as if in exhaustion. You weren’t naïve – not anymore. You didn’t feel bad for him per se.

But seeing the man who once seemed to carry the weight of the world in his shoulders, who took care of an entire city and never even wavered, look so defeated… Well. It did pull at your heart strings a little bit. Maybe that’s why you nodded and gestured over to your couches, sitting down in one of them and waiting for Miguel to do the same.

Maybe that’s why you watched as Miguel sat on the couch facing the TV and waited for him to speak.

“[Y/N], I… Mierda… No sé por donde empezar…” He cursed under his breath, head hanging low.

“I don’t have all night, Miguel.”

Oh, how he missed hearing his name spill from your lips. But now, instead of filled with love and warmth, you spit the words almost like they are poisonous, like you can’t hold them on your tongue for more than two seconds without them corrupting you.

He supposed he did that to you.

“I suppose I should start by apologizing…” Miguel finally looked at you, brown eyes staring into yours. You’d have done anything for those eyes once upon a time. Not anymore. “[Y/N], that night, all those months ago… I can’t begin to explain how sorry I am…”

So he was here to apologize? Was that it? Did you even want to hear his apology? Were you going to forgive him?

“When I told you those things, when I told you to…” He averted his gaze for a few seconds, probably too ashamed to look at you as he remembered telling you to kill your child. And you felt good that he was ashamed. He deserved to be. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I was scared. Scared it would happen again, what happened to my sweet Gabriella… I lashed out on you, and I scared you. I’m so sorry.”

You nodded once, and upon hearing no reply from you, he continued.

“I… I really have no excuse other than that. Seeing Gabriella disappear right before my eyes, it… Mierda, it really scared me. So, when I read that test, when I saw you were pregnant, I was afraid it would happen again.”

Miguel found you staring at him, unimpressed, unmoved. Did his words mean nothing? Had he reached you?

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Is that why you came here? To apologize?” You questioned him, brow quirked.

“Well, yeah. You deserve an apology mi vi- [Y/N]. What I did to you was inexcusable. And yet, I hope that someday you manage to find it within your heart to forgive me. You know I’ve never lied to you, and I’m still telling you the truth when I say I’m so, so, so sorry. I’m ashamed of how I behaved, I was a monster, and you didn’t deserve that.”

For some unknown reason, his words made you weak, if only for a few seconds. You saw in front of you, your Miguel, your sweet, sweet Miggy who brought you breakfast in bed, who kissed your period cramps away, who carried you when you were too tired to walk, who treated you like you were God’s gift to green earth. You saw him scared and vulnerable and hurt, and all you wanted to do was take him in your arms and hold him tightly until all of the pain was nothing but a distant memory.

But you also couldn’t ignore the other Miguel, the Miguel who had jumped and punched a wall and yelled at you, demanding you to get rid of your baby, and forcing others to do it. No matter how much you had once loved him, Gabriel was your life now, and you couldn’t allow yourself to feel soft over someone who would do something so inhuman as threaten an unborn child.

“Thank you for the apology.” You told him. “Now, if you would excuse me, I have things to do. Now, please leave.”

He seemed confused by that. Leave?

“Wait – what?”

Standing up, you gently adjusted the couch you were sitting on, and shrugged at him.

“Yes. I have heard your apology, and now I want you to leave.”

“Well, what is your response?”

“To what?”

“To the apology.”

“I’m not accepting it.”

“What?”

What was he expecting? You to run into his arms with tears of joy, kissing him until he was dizzy and proclaiming his love for him? Was that it?

“You heard me,” You crossed your arms, “I’m not accepting your apology.”

“But – I thought – “

“You thought what, exactly?” Now your words were pure venom, meant to poison his skin and hurt his heart. You wanted him to feel a least a fraction of the hurt and pain he caused you, of the heartbreak he submitted you to. “That you could just come in here after I actively ran from you, after I tried to hide, and you would solve everything by washing my dishes and giving me a half-assed apology?”

“[Y/N], I told you what happened, I’m sorry, I was scared – “

“How do you think I felt, huh?” You felt the rage in the back of your throat. It hurt. It felt nice to let your anger out, to direct it at him, the source of your ache. “How do you think I felt when you threatened my baby? Were you also scared when you sent your Spider-People after my child and I?”

“What?” Miguel looked at you, dropping his hands to his sides.

“That’s right. I’m not stupid, Miguel, I know what you did. You asked for them to search for me, and to kill my son. You think all of that is washed away simply by apologising?”

“I was afraid you’d disappear on me too!” He pleaded, hands gesturing to his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what else to say, how else to show you how heartbroken I am…”

“Well then, perhaps you should’ve thought about all that before you decided to have a child with me, Miguel. You don’t get to do this – You don’t get to picture a future with me, with our family, you don’t get to tell me you’re ready only to then threaten us. You should’ve voiced those concerns instead of taking it out on me. You got me pregnant and didn’t even deal with the consequences of your actions!” You threw your hands in the air, desperately trying to make him see your side. Could he not understand the gravity of the situation?

“You should’ve told me. We would’ve worked something out, Miguel, I knew we would’ve.” Your vision becomes blurry – all these emotions aren’t really helping your “Don’t waver” plan, but at this point you just need to vent your frustrations. “But what you did? It felt like betrayal. We were trying for a baby, and when I finally got pregnant, you threatened us. I know what happened to you in the past, and I can’t imagine how it must’ve hurt, but it is no excuse for what you did to me.”

For a while, the both of you were silent. There was nothing else to say.

“What’s his name?” He asked silently, looking at Gabriel’s door.

You hesitated, but figured telling him what you had named your child probably didn’t hurt.

“Gabriel. His name is Gabriel.”

His eyes twinkled in acknowledgment. You had wanted to name your son anything that had nothing to do with his father, but you couldn’t. You considered that your last act of kindness towards Miguel.

“After my brother?”

“Who else?” You looked away.

“He… He’s beautiful. He looks…”

“Like you, I know.” You’d made your peace with it, sure, but sometimes it still stung that your child looked nothing like you, you who carried him and took care of him and fed him and rocked him to sleep. Instead, he was a near perfect copy of his father, opting to act like you, rather than look like you.

“How is he?” Miguel felt scared to ask. He wasn’t sure if you were going to tell him anything – and why should you?

“He’s… He’s the greatest kid ever. He’s smart and kind, and so considerate. He’s his own little man, even though he’s only four years old…” A smile spread across your lips, as you always did when talking about your son. He was your pride and joy, after all.

“Will I…” Miguel hesitated. You know what’s coming. “Will I get to meet him?”

“No. Not if I can help him.”

Miguel’s lips formed a tight line.

“[Y/N], he’s my son too –“

“No, he’s not. You might be related by blood, but that doesn’t make him your son, and it most certainly doesn’t make you his father. You lost that right when you threatened to kill him, and sent your goons to do it.” Your voice was getting louder, so you tried to lower it. The last thing you wanted was to wake Gabriel up.

“You can’t do this. I have a right to see him.” Miguel’s voice was also getting louder. Not only that, but he had also gotten up, towering over you. So much for weakness and desperation, this Miguel looked the same as the one you left four years ago.

“You don’t, that’s the thing. I don’t trust you around my son. I’ve spent the past four years trying to protect him from you, and I’m not going to stop now.” As if by instinct, you placed yourself right in front of him, blocking his passage to Gabriel’s room. Could he snap you in half and get to him by himself? Yeah. Were you going to let that stop you? No.

“What did you tell him? What lies did you tell our son?” Was it just you, or were his eyes turning red?

“My son. And I told him the truth, that his father wasn’t making me feel safe, so I had to run in order to protect him.”

Miguel visibly flinched at those words. He never wanted to make you feel unsafe, never.

“I understand I made a mistake, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be a part of his life.” His expression changed to something darker – you weren’t sure how long you had until he snapped. A mistake? How dare he downplay his actions like this?

“That is precisely what it means. I want you away from my son.”

“He needs a father. What if – what if he inherits my abilities, huh? What are you going to do then?”

That’s when you snapped.

“He needs ME!” Hot tears streamed down your face, and you did not try to stop them. “Do you understand? Me. I am his mother. I cared for him for the 9 months he was inside of me, scared shitless because I didn’t know what you might do if you found us. I took care of him for 4 whole years. I was the one who fed him, I was the one who changed his diapers, I was the one rocked him to sleep when he cried and I’d been awake for hours, I was the one who gave up everything and started from scratch because of him! And what did you do? You whispered pretty things in my ear and got me pregnant, and then got scared and proceeded to tell me to kill my child! That’s not something a father does!” The words kept spilling from your lips and there was no way to stop them. You could finally speak freely, get him to understand the pain he put you through.

“If my son happens to inherit your abilities, then I will take care of it. Just like I’ve been doing all these years, I will take care of it. You’ve done nothing for us, and we don’t need you. I don’t need you Miguel, I don’t love you anymore. My priorities in life have changed, and now they lie in the safety and well-being of my son. So, for once in your life, stop being so fucking stubborn and LEAVE!”

“Mama?”

Your heart fell as soon as you heard Gabriel’s scared voice.

Shit.

You turned to him, only to be meet with a teary-eyed child, holding onto his teddy bear way too tightly.

“Honey, I… I’m sorry… Did I wake you up?” Your voice was automatically gentler, lower, something above a whisper, something reserved for him and him alone. Right now, you didn’t care that Miguel was right there, angry, and tall, all you cared about was your son, who looked so, so scared it nearly killed you.

“I heard you yelling…” He murmured, running towards you and hiding his face on the crook of your neck. His tears fell on your skin and you allowed yourself to cry with him, clutching him close to you, afraid he’d disappear right before your eyes because of your actions.

“I’m so sorry…” You mumbled into his hair, hoping all the love and sincerity you felt right now could be translated into words. “Honey, I’m so sorry, mommy got angry and started yelling… I promise it won’t happen again… I’m so, so sorry…”

You felt Gabriel nod, and pressed your lips to his head, a thousand promises laced in one simple kiss.

Standing up and turning to Miguel, you gave him a serious look, despite your puffy face and red eyes.

“You should leave. For good.”

And for all his bravado, Miguel couldn’t help but melt when he looked at your son, at his round, bright eyes, and small pout. He might look like his father, but right now, he was all you. It killed him. He drove you to yell, he drove you to be mad and wake him up. Mierda. He’d fucked up again.

Miguel took his son in one last time, telling himself he’d keep an eye on him from afar, and nodded before walking away and leaving you alone in your living room.

You locked the door behind him, heart tightening.

You’d made the right choice.

“Would you mind sleeping with mommy tonight? I think I need my brave little boy to scare away the monsters…” You whispered.

This earned a chuckle out of Gabriel, who nodded and placed a hand on his forehead in a salute, no doubt imitating the cartoons he watched.

“I’m going to protect you!”

You smiled and took him to your bedroom once more, not even bothering to change. Your sweatpants were comfortable anyways.

Holding Gabriel close to you, you sighed when you heard him speak.

“That man said he was my father…”

You pressed your lips. However were you going to work this one out?

“Was he the one you wanted to protect me from?”

You let your hands run through his hair.

“Yeah, my love. He was.”

“How did he find us?”

That was a good question. With all of the yelling and anger, you’d forgotten to ask. But after all, this was Miguel you were talking about. He was a genius and would surely always find a way to you, sooner or later.

“I’m not sure. But he won’t hurt us. I promise.” You looked at him, offering him your best reassuring smile. Truth was, you weren’t sure he would follow you once again. But what you were sure of, was that you would always do your best to protect him and keep him safe.

Gabriel looked into your eyes and slowly wiped away what was left of your tears.

“It’s okay to be scared.”

No matter how used you were to it, it would always catch you by surprised how perceptive and intelligent your son was. You smiled slowly grabbing his hand and kissing it.

“I know.”

“Are you scared?” He asked again, his eyes droopy and his lips parting to let out a big yawn.

“I was a few minutes ago. But I’m gonna tell you a secret. That alright?” You moved your hand to cup his cheek.

“Mhm…” Gabriel mumbled, sounding like he was dozing off already.

“Mommy is never scared when you’re by her side.” It was barely a whisper, and you didn’t even know if he had heard it. Still, you added, “I’ll always be strong for you.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you watched his gentle breathing.

And then, words.

“I love you, mama.”

They were barely audible, but nevertheless, they were there.

A few tears managed to escape – tears of joy, of love.

You would always do your best to protect him. You’d always be there to hold his hand and watch him grow, watch him become his own person, cheering him on as he went.

No matter what came your way, no matter what happened, you’d always be there by his side. For the good things, for the bad things, for the so-so things. To hold him tightly when he felt clingier than usual, to pin his drawings on the fridge, to hear him babble about whatever new topic he’d discovered in school, even if you were tired beyond reason and all you wanted was for him to go to sleep so you could get some rest.

You’d be there to tie his shoes until he could do it by himself, and to clean his face whenever he got too excited with his lunch. You’d be there to explain to him what a “memamporphosis” was, and to listen to him explain to you why Spiderman was the greatest of heroes.

You’d be there when he cried, and when he laughed.

And be there when he wasn’t yours anymore.

Four years ago, you had chosen him, and you would always choose him, for as long as you breathed.

“I love you too, my sweet boy.”

Spanish Translations

Mi cielo - My sky Mierda - Shit My vida - My life Te amo con todo mi ser - I love you with all of my being Eres la luz de mi vida - You're the light of my life Estás embarazada? - You're pregnant? Perdóname - Forgive me Buenos dias hermosa - Good morning beautiful Querida / Querido - Dear (While Querida is meant for a female partner, Querido is meant for a male partner, both are a term of endearement and have the same meaning) No sé por donde empezar - I don't know where to start

If you'd like to check out the song's translation, you can check this page out!

I hope you enjoyed this! Have an amazing day ahead, please keep yourself hydrated and safe <3

[runnning-outof-time]

Beach Day | Modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - but encouraged by @holacia3 with this ask

Pairing: Modern!Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: (Y/N) manages to pull Tommy out of the office so that they can go on a trip. Once at their destination, they waste no time and have a much needed beach day. Or: Tommy forgets everything the second he sees (Y/N) wearing his shirt.

Warnings: language, some suggestive sentences

Word Count: 3332

A/N: this one’s probably going to flop, but I’m happy that I managed to finish it amidst the bout of writer’s block I’ve been experiencing. It was the other option on the poll I ran a few weeks ago. I haven’t got to take a trip to the beach this summer, so I decided to write about it instead. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: this will be the last story posted in July … I’m going on a trip with my family next week and most likely won’t have any major time to write the other requests. I’m hoping that maybe I’ll be able to write and share some of the blurbs that I’ve got in my asks, but big stories have been halted until August.

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories like this one!

"...and you can't argue with me because I've already packed your bags," (Y/N) ended her pitch in an assured tone, setting her confident gaze on her fiancé, who was sitting across from her...at his desk, of course.

Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but the door to the office opening stopped him. Both he and (Y/N) looked over to it to find Polly entering the room. "I'm going to need you to hand over your diary," she said, walking right over to the desk, extending her hand towards her nephew when she stopped in front of it.

"I'm guessing you got her in on this?" Tommy asked (Y/N), his eyebrows raised as he looked between both women.

"I did," (Y/N) nodded in an assured manner, a tight-lipped grin present on her face, "and you're not getting out of it."

"Everything's been handled. Go take a break, Thomas," Polly added, moving her fingers then to remind him that she was going to need his diary.

"So it's been settled then, eh?" he looked at (Y/N) again.

"It has been," she answered him, a victorious smile present on her face, "give her the diary, Tommy."

"If I must," he sighed dramatically as he picked it up from his desk and handed it over to his aunt, making a big deal over it. Inside he was glad that (Y/N) had planned this out...he'd been working tirelessly on the business' latest expansion and hardly had a moment to breathe, but yet he wasn't going to stop and take one for himself. (Y/N) realized that and took it upon herself to plan the forced holiday.

"You must," (Y/N) stayed stern on her point, although the smile she was wearing was full on her face now. Tommy took one more look at his fiancée and couldn't stop the smile from forming on his face. There was not a doubt in his mind that he was ready to relax with her.

——

By that time the next day, Tommy and (Y/N) found themselves checked into a private resort that sat right off of a beautiful beach.

After unpacking their luggage, Tommy made his way out to the living area of the suite they were staying in with the intention of checking in on how things were back at home. He was thankful that this resort had high-speed internet, because he couldn't stand to be disconnected for too long. The flight to the resort was already pushing the limits...nothing would connect in that damned airport.

It seemed as though (Y/N) had other ideas of what they should be doing next. She exited the bedroom the second he'd gotten comfortable on one of the couches. Taking one look at Tommy made her audibly sigh and drop her hand to hit against her thigh, the sound of it making him look up from the screen.

He immediately noted that she had changed. Her comfortable airport attire had been switched for a swimsuit and a loose, practically see through dress that she was using as a cover-up. A pair of sunglasses rested atop her head and flip-flops covered her feet. How she managed to get changed so fast completely perplexed him.

"You're back to thinking of work already?" she commented, a bit of an exasperated look filling her features.

"You know how I like to check on things," he stated, defending himself as he shrugged his shoulders slightly.

"I do know, but we're on holiday, Tommy," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but we just got here."

"Yeah...and I'm already ready to go down to the beach."

"I noticed that."

"Tommy..." (Y/N) sighed, a frown forming on her lips. She held her gaze on him for a moment, watching and waiting for him to say something, before continuing to speak when silence persisted. "I'm going to throw your bloody phone in the ocean if this is how this week's going to play out," she threatened him, her voice holding a more serious tone than it had before.

"Just let me do it now," he bargained with her, "I didn't know we were going to get into things so soon."

(Y/N) pursed her lips as she thought about his suggestion. She finally responded after letting silence hang in the air for a few moments, "fine. You can do it now, but please don't let it become a habit, ok? This was meant to take you away from work," she laid out her stipulations.

"Fair enough. I'll curb it for the rest of the week," he agreed to her counter-offer, nodding his head to seal the deal.

"Good," she nodded in response to his statement. A few beats of silence passed before she spoke again, "I'm going to go down to the pool and wait for you, ok?" she told him her plan.

"Ok," he agreed, watching her as she walked over to where he was sitting. "Look beautiful, baby," he couldn't resist giving her a compliment, his eyes running over her body.

"Thanks, Tommy," she smiled at him, her stomach filling with butterflies as she leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. "Don't be up here too long, hmm?" she mumbled against his lips after pulling away.

"I won't," he promised her, feeling her smile against his lips before they shared one more kiss. (Y/N) stood upright again, smiling and nodding at him once more before she moved back over the island that broke up the kitchen and living space.

"You know where to find me," she told him while making sure that her tote bag was filled with the essentials: beach towel, sun tan lotion, hotel room key, and, of course, her latest book. She looked over to him, watching as he nodded one last time, before she made her way to the door of the suite.

There weren't many people sitting by the pool, so (Y/N) was able to find an open lounge pretty quickly. She set her bag down next to the chair and then relaxed back against it. The ocean's waves could be heard from where she was, and the calming sound of them made her shut her eyes and take a deep breath. It was good to finally be able to take some time and actually relax.

As a senior member of the Shelby Company Ltd.'s marketing team, she was working just as much as Tommy was. Always coming up with new ways of advertising; always keeping up with the different avenues Tommy was taking the company down. It was tedious and time consuming, sure, but she wouldn't have it any other way...the job was how she met her fiancé, three years ago.

With both of their busy schedules, neither really had the time to take a moment and relax...until (Y/N) made a point to now. She was thankful for this trip, and she was sure that Tommy was, too.

Some time passed as she sat, relaxing on the pool lounge. She wasn't sure how long she'd been out there; she wasn't really keeping time as she switched between laying with her eyes closed and watching the other people meander about the pool area.

Luckily she was doing some people watching when Tommy came walking down the stairs and into the pool area of the resort. She spotted him as he was descending the steps, and immediately noticed that he'd changed into his beachwear. The white t-shirt and jeans he'd worn while traveling was now swapped for a pair of gray board shorts and a baby blue linen button down shirt. She couldn't help but stare at him as he walked across the area to get to where she was lounging.

"Ready to go down to the water?" he asked as he stopped in front of her lounge.

"I see you're finally finished with your work," (Y/N) commented, pulling her sunglasses down slightly to peer up at him.

He chuckled at her statement, shaking his head slightly as he looked out to the ocean, "yeah, and it's finished for the rest of the trip."

"If you say so," she brushed off the topic as she sat up on the lounge, collecting her bag and making sure that she had everything she'd come down with. "Let's go down to the beach," she said with a smile as she stood next to him. Tommy nodded his head before allowing her to lead the way to the gate that separated the pool area from the private beach that the resort offered.

The beach was beautiful. The sand was soft, and the breeze coming off of the waves made the hot rays of the sun not burn so bad. One of the perks of the resort having a private beach was the fact that there weren't many people inhabiting it.

(Y/N) and Tommy quickly found a spot to set their things down. (Y/N) made sure that the beach blanket Tommy had brought with him (because she'd forgotten it in the room) was laid out underneath one of the umbrellas the resort had set up. She set the bag down on it before kicking off her flip-flops and lifting the cover-up from her body.

"Let's go down to the water," she excitedly said, flashing a look in Tommy's direction before she took off towards the waves.

"You're not even gonna wait for me," he responded, moreso to himself than anyone, a smile forming on his face as he shook his head. He could easily tell how much she was already enjoying this holiday, and he was so thankful that she'd planned it for them. It took him a few moments to undo his button down and set it into the bag before he too kicked off his flip-flops and began walking down to the water.

He approached (Y/N), who was standing facing the waves, and wasted no time wrapping his arms around her midsection. His actions made her shriek at first, but she sunk into his embrace in seconds. "Isn't it beautiful?" she asked him, swaying slightly along with him.

"It is," he mused, resting the side of his head against hers as they looked out at the waves. "The water's not too cold either."

"It's not," she agreed, her hands coming up to sit on his forearms, "let's go in," she said then, tapping his arms to let him know she wanted to be released. He obliged, and she took his hand to lead him out deeper in the water.

They made their way out to where the water reached their waists, stopping there even though Tommy thought that they could go out a little bit further. (Y/N) protested his suggestion, telling him that 'things might eat us if we go any further'. Tommy listened to his fianceé's statement and stayed where they were. They spent a good amount of time in the water, switching from swimming around, to floating with the waves, to (Y/N)'s personal favorite: hanging onto Tommy like he was a tree and she was a koala.

At least an hour of them spending time in the water had to have passed before Tommy finally decided to start heading towards the shore. His movement, of course, didn't go unnoticed. "You're leaving me?" (Y/N) questioned after she saw him take a few steps backwards. She was enjoying herself in the water and had had no plans of leaving it any time soon.

"I think I'm ready to get out of the water," he answered with the obvious.

"We've not been in here long though," she pouted.

"I need to go sit for a minute, love. I'll be just up there," he told her, motioning to where their things were. (Y/N)'s pout didn't subside, but she nodded and allowed him to leave the waves.

She watched him walk up the beach and sit down on the blanket they'd laid out. Her eyes lingered for a few moments before she went back to floating on the waves.

It wasn't long before (Y/N) was exiting the water and walking up to where Tommy had made himself comfortable. It just wasn't the same wading in the waves alone. She wanted to spend as much time with Tommy as she possibly could. A sight - that she honestly wished she'd be surprised to see - was waiting for her at the blanket though.

"I thought you said you'd ditch the work while we're here?" she commented as she stopped in front of Tommy, who had his face buried in his smartphone as he tapped away at the screen.

Her voice made him quickly look up, a surprised expression forming on his face as he noticed she was right in front of him. "I was just checking a few things," he told her, holding his hands up in surrender, his now locked phone present in one of them.

"Mm-hmm," (Y/N) shook her head as she moved over to where the bag was sitting so that she could grab a towel and dry off, "you do know the ocean's right there, right? I could honestly take that phone and give it a good chuck," she stated, making sure her body was dry.

"You wouldn't," Tommy responded, a slight tone present in his voice, showing that he was testing the waters.

"I just might," she quipped back, a grin on her face as she dropped the towel back into the bag.

Before she could move to sit next to him, light blue fabric caught her eye. She instantly recognized it as the linen button down Tommy was previously wearing. She picked it up without a second thought, draping it over her shoulders and slipping her arms through the holes. It covered her swimsuit clad body immediately and she was grateful for the soft, cool fabric on her otherwise warm skin. She'd just finished rolling the sleeves up to her elbows when she finally felt Tommy's eyes on her.

Tommy had been watching her from the second she came back to the blanket. His phone was quickly forgotten as he watched her dry off and then grab the shirt from the bag. Sure, she had her own cover-up, but he was so damn happy that she'd chosen to slip his shirt on over her body. Something about her wearing his clothes just got him going. Just when he thought she couldn't get any more beautiful, she went ahead and did something like this. He couldn't help but let his eyes travel up and down her frame.

(Y/N)'s eyes finally found his when he found her face once more, and she couldn't stop the butterflies from fluttering in her stomach as she noticed the look he was giving her. She wanted to make a comment, but it died in her throat as she just about melted under his stare.

"C'mere," Tommy finally spoke, nodding his head to the side as a non-verbal addition to his statement. She grinned at him and happily followed his direction, moving over to where he was sitting.

He brought his knees up and opened his legs slightly, offering her the perfect spot to sit down in; one that she quickly fell into. She easily got comfortable sitting between his legs; her back rested against his chest. Tommy wasted no time in wrapping his arms around her, pulling her even closer to his body as he leant over and began pressing kisses to the side of her neck.

"Tommy, stop!" she exclaimed through her giggles, finally trying to squirm away from his lips as his actions quickly became ticklish. He listened to her and stopped his kisses, but he didn't dare loosen up the grip that he had on her.

It was easy for his hands to find their way onto her body, being that she'd left the shirt open, and he couldn't help but let them roam her figure. He took his time, feeling every curve as he nestled his face into her neck; breathing in the sweet smell of her skin mixed with the sunshine that had been kissing it since they exited the hotel room. (Y/N) had practically melted into his body, absolutely loving the feeling of his hands as they traced her skin.

She waited until his hands found their resting spot on the sides of her waist, his arms crossed over her stomach, to finally speak again: "I see that I've got your mind off of work now," she said with a grin, turning her head so that she could see his face out of the corner of her eye.

"Oh you most certainly have," he answered, a grin laced into his words, "look so fuckin' beautiful in my things...always, baby," he mumbled against the skin of her cheek before he kissed it.

The butterflies returned as she heard what he had to say, and she couldn't stop herself from turning in his arms even more so that she could press her lips to his in a much needed kiss. "Love you, Tommy," she mumbled against them, smiling as he kissed her again, this kiss holding more emotion than the last. "I can't wait for the rest of this week with you," she said once they'd finally pulled away from each other. She was now sitting with her body turned more towards him, so she was able to look at him head on. She couldn't stop her cheeks from heating up as she caught the look of total adoration in his eyes.

"If this is a preview of what's to come..." he trailed off, a grin forming on his face as his eyes danced over her figure once more, "I already know that this trip is going to be one that's hard to top."

His cheeky comment that was accompanied by a rather suggestive glance, made (Y/N) gasp, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes and shake her head as she tried to distract herself from how his words actually made her feel. Why did there have to be other people present on this beach?! She had to look towards the ocean for a few moments to re-center herself from the look that was making her wonder what they could get away with out here.

A few moments had passed before she felt the sharp snap of her swimsuit's strap against her skin. "Tommy!" she shrieked at the sensation, her eyes snapping back onto him to see that a smug grin was now present on his face. He tried, and failed, to feign innocence before his expression dissolved into a grin and chuckles. "I can't believe you," she shook her head, gently pressing on his shoulders for him to get the hint to lay back on the blanket.

She wasted no time in pressing her lips to his when he did lay down, and he made a mental note to do things such as that more often if this was going to be how she responded to it.

After sharing a flurry of kisses, (Y/N) rested her head against his chest, not caring about the shine of sweat that was present due to the heat of the sun that was engulfing them. She was thankful for the shade that their umbrella was providing.

Tommy wrapped his arms around the small of her back underneath the shirt of his that she was still wearing, effectively holding her close to him...like she was going to be moving any time soon. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the serenity that was surrounding them; not thinking about anything but the beautiful woman laying with him.

Like he'd said before: if this was a preview of how the week was going to go, this was most definitely going to be a tough trip to top.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[biteofcherry]

Resolution

Alpha!Ari Levinson x omega female reader; shifter!Ari Levinson x shifter!reader

Bad Moon Rising Masterlist

summary: Ari has a particular resolution for the new year.

warnings: small doze of smutty at the end; chase kink; implied breeding kink;

Written as a result of this poll.

Frost-coated leaves crunch beneath your paws as you slowly circle your mate, who’s stoically sitting furry ass down in the clearing, his tail swishing lazily. 

Winter has come in full force at the beginning of December, but right around winter solstice lessened its grip on your lands. As shifters you don’t go cold easily, so it’s normal to go for runs even in layers of snow. But the run is more enjoyable when each step, each jump isn’t hindered by deep snow banks.

Snow is more amusing when you’re in your human form; though you still didn’t manage to land a snowball on your Alpha. His stupid fast reflexes are becoming annoying. 

So are his senses. 

Your fur coating should give you a solid advantage in the midst of winter, with its silvery hues that blend nicely with sun-stroked snow. Somehow, Ari is still able to track you down each time when you attempt to hide from him during your runs. Even rubbing yourself along resin drizzled bark doesn’t help mask your scent from your Alpha.

I’ll always find your ripe aroma, he murmured later as he held you down on his knot.

With a small huff, indignant that he easily dug you out from the small snow cave just minutes ago, you plop down beside him. 

The ground in the clearing sparkles with a thin layer of snow and frost, the dark green of the forest spreads in a wide ribbon around you, coated with white veil. Above the treetops, the night sky illuminates with hues of orange and gold, occasionally purple and green.

Fireworks. 

Marking the end of the year, announcing the start of another. And your past year has been a rollercoaster of change. It would remain a memorable one, for sure. 

The one beginning is set to be unusual as well; with you settling into the life of a bonded woman and the certain expectations being the Alpha’s mate carries.

Trying not to think too much of it now, you focus instead on the play of colors in the sky and the grounding constant of nature surrounding you. As well your mate’s steady heartbeat that you can hear in the quiet night. 

So far from the cities, the thunderous echo of fireworks blowing in the sky for the New Year celebration doesn’t hurt your sensitive hearing. Webs of fireworks aren’t visible either, only the colors changing the sky like a kaleidoscope. 

None of the pack were ever interested in watching the fireworks up close. It’s enough to admire them on the tv screen, where the sound can be muted, so it doesn’t startle pups, nor annoys your sharp hearing. 

You don’t mind sitting in the comfy quiet of nature, but you do feel slightly restless and a bit unsatisfied with your fun being cut short. 

It tempts you to nip Ari before bolting away, but if you give him any indication of resuming your game, he would pounce on you immediately. So you skip the poking invitation and simply leap right into a fast pace. 

You’ve learned a while ago it’s never a good idea to check how far from you your Alpha is, because that split of a second is enough of an advantage for him. Heart pounding in excitement and exertion, you cut through the forest. 

As the trees grow sparse and the shape of your house comes into view, you almost give a victorious howl. However, just as you breach the tree line, a massive, bronze wolf cuts in your way from the side. 

You snarl in annoyance. Once again your mate has outrun and outsmarted you. 

He growls at you in response and your whole body jerks. 

The shift comes quickly and within seconds you find yourself in human form - naked on the snow. 

“Fucking hell!” You jump onto your feet. “It’s freezing cold, Ari!” 

He rarely forced you into a shift; maybe once since that time at your mating ceremony. You didn’t expect it now (just like you never expected it before, either) and the very first instinct - aside from shifting back into your warm wolf fur - is to bury yourself in your Alpha’s fur. 

But Ari shifted into his human form, as well. His big hand grips the back of your neck before you finish your second sentence, pulling you close to his beefy form. Heat radiating off of him engulfs you.

“I’ll warm you right up, Omega,” his breath tickles your lips, then his mouth shuts off any of your verbal responses. 

With his other hand he grabs your ass and yanks you up. You wrap your legs around his hips, arms around his neck as he carries you in a few long strides inside your house. Just a few steps in, onto the nearest surface that would suffice this raw need bubbling out.

Desire for Ari seems to always thrum beneath your skin, but it bursts in sudden flares of consuming heat so unexpectedly. You could be simply talking one moment and in the next breath you’re spreading for him. 

Ari pushes you down onto the soft bear skin stretched in front of the fireplace in the living room. 

He claims it’s a trophy from a bear he killed himself when roaming up northern borders. You call bullshit. You suspect it’s a store-bought Yogi bear. 

But it doesn’t matter when Ari pins you down with his weight, rocking his hips between your splayed apart thighs. His cock is already half-hard and your body reacts to his growing potent scent. 

“Ari!” You hiss in pleasure, raking your fingernails down his back when his tip breaches your hole. 

“Always so ready for me,” he purrs, pushing deeper in. “Don’t have to work you up too much, this sweet pussy is so eager to take her Alpha’s knot.” 

“And when your heat comes in a few weeks-” he pauses for a moment- “I’m gonna give it what it craves the most-”

Ari snaps his hips forward, burying his cock to the hilt and making you cry out.

“Gonna breed you, little omega. Getting you swollen with our pups is my new year’s resolution.”   

[sturniolowhore]

matt and chris fluff with anxious reader. matt struggles with anxiety and would be able to help reader with anxiety. chris has anxiety help experience from matt- just fluff and support 🧡💙

☁️ SWIM, WE'LL KEEP YOU AFLOAT

summary ⎯  reader has a bad day and finally ends up breaking when she's watching a movie with matt and chris (and basically what the request says)

warnings ⎯  mentions of anxiety, boyfriend!chris, bestfriend!matt, brief mention of bestfriend!nick, fem!reader, fluff, hurt and comfort

A/N ⎯ finally posting again!! thank you so much for 600 followers guys i love you so so much and i could not be more thankful. this request was the winner of the poll i did before but i will eventually be working on all of the requests so keep an eye out for them

i hope you enjoy <3

❛ ━━･❪ ִ ࣪𖤐 ❫ ･━━ ❜

anxiety for her feels like drowning. the overbearing thoughts start to flow a stream of her body, swimming through her mind until they begin to consume her entire being. a lot of the time she tries her hardest to ignore it, pretending it doesn't exist so she doesn't spend too much time thinking about it. it comes and it goes and she hates it. some days she'll be completely okay, not a single worry in her mind, yet others she'll feel like her head is being dunked under water and she can't breathe.

today feels like one of those days. things keep going wrong and she's not sure how much more she can take before she just breaks down. it's small elements piling up on top of one another and forming this mountain of worries that she can't seem to remove from her vision. despite her anxious state, she attempts to act as though nothing is wrong.

her head is currently laid on chris' chest with his arm slung around her shoulder. she's watching a movie with him and matt seeing as nick has gone out with madi. she'd be lying if she says she's actually watching the scenes in front of her though. the voices of the characters are echoing in her head and she can't quite keep up with everything. she's starting to feel worse by the second and she hates it so much. she especially hates it because she doesn't have a reason to be anxious, her body has just decided to keep her on edge for no apparent reason.

she can feel her mind working itself into overdrive as every recent worry she has is starting to build up into a cloud of despair. her eyes remain glued to the tv screen but her attention is somewhere else entirely.

she honestly doesn't even hear anything when chris first speaks up, "you okay ma? you're shaking."

chris taps at her shoulder lightly when he doesn't receive a response and she snaps out of her trance, turning to face him and offering a weak smile in the hopes that he won't catch onto her emotions. luck seemingly isn't on her side because chris' expression conveys pure sympathy. he pulls her closer to him and she clings onto his torso, turning her head so her face collides with his clothed chest.

her actions result in her entirely missing the look of concern both matt and chris share. they're aware something is definitely wrong now but as always, they don't want to force her into telling them how she feels. that's something she truly adores about them and nick too, for that matter. they allow her to go at her own pace and she's ever so thankful.

a tear falls from her eyes but of course she's the only one aware seeing as her face is hidden. she feels weak and she doesn't want to cry, especially when she doesn't know why she's crying. regardless of what she wants though, the tears still fall and eventually start to create a damp patch on chris' t shirt. he frowns as he feels the tears soak through the material and he gives a wary look to matt yet again.

"hey, it's okay come on, lift your head up baby," he strokes her hair softly and watches as she hesitantly lifts her head, coming up with a slightly choked sob that breaks his heart into a dozen pieces.

matt, who was previously sat on the other couch, stands up and makes his way to the couch she's sitting on. he sits beside her slowly and reaches a tentative hand to touch her shoulder, grounding her for a brief second as she continues to cry.

"i- i don't even know why i'm crying," she manages to get out, feeling all sense of composure she's been trying to hold onto wither away.

"hey, it's okay, we all get upset sometimes," matt's gentle voice sounds through the air and she could not be more thankful for the people she's surrounded by.

"has it been like this all day?" chris asks her warily, wanting to know a little more so he can provide her with the best comfort she so deeply deserves.

she nods her head sheepishly, wiping furiously at the tears spilling from her eyes. chris instantly moves her hands and replaces them with his own, stroking the tears away in a much gentler manner. she can also feel matt rubbing circles against her shoulder which both feel extremely delicate in contrast to the rough, jagged thoughts in her head.

"okay baby, we're going to play a little game. can you tell me five things you can see?" chris interrupts her train of thoughts and she can't help but smile because she knows exactly what he's trying to do.

"um, your t-shirt, your chain, the tv, fuck i can't. i'm sorry," she cries louder, hating how she can't do such a simple task.

"it's okay. let me go first and then you can try?" matt suggests and she nods slowly, making him continue, "i can see you and chris, i can see the other couch, i can see the tv and i can see my phone. can you try for us?"

"i can see chris, the wall, the mantlepiece, um- the table and the tv," she says ever so slowly but chris or matt don't make so much as a single comment about her taking too long; they simply wait patiently and continue to encourage her to keep going.

"there we go, i'm so proud. now four things you can feel. want me to go first?" chris asks and after a small sob escapes her lips, she nods her head in response.

"i can feel your pretty face on my chest, i can feel my chain on my neck, i can feel the couch and i can feel your hair tie on my wrist. come on ma, what are you feeling?" his voice is soft, so fucking soft and she wants to melt into it.

she hesitates but tries her best to overcome it and speak again, "i can feel your hand in- in my hair, matt's hand on my shoulder, the couch and uh- um..."

"slowly, only more thing. i can feel the pillow, can you feel it?" matt asks her, knowing she can certainly feel it.

she smiles at him, "mhm and i can feel the pillow."

"there we go, three things you can hear? oh that's a fun one," chris prompts her and she laughs lightly at his comment.

"the movie, my breathing and-" she stops, thinking and then smiling when chris starts to hum gently, "and your humming."

"you're doing so good," matt reassures her and she finds herself starting to relax more and more as the seconds pass.

"so good baby, i'm so proud of you," chris continues to comfort her softly with his hands, making her lean into his touch seeking the familiar sensation.

"two things you can smell?" matt queries, finding himself more relaxed at the fact that she's calming down too; he knows exactly how anxiety can get and he hates that she has to go through it when she's such a pure and loving individual.

"my perfume and i- i think chris' chapstick," she laughs with a little cough and chris rubs circles on her back lovingly.

"we're almost there ma, i just need to know what you can taste," chris tells her, smiling at her to show her that what she's feeling is allowed and that it doesn't change any feelings he has towards her like she fears it will. if anything, her strength makes him love her even more than he already does.

"i can't really taste anything..." she points out and chris thinks for a moment before an idea settles in his head.

"sorry matt," he says and before matt can question the apology, chris shortly but sweetly connects his lips with his girlfriend's before pulling away with a sheepish smile.

she shakes her head at him and laughs when matt playfully rolls his eyes. she licks at her lips and turns back to chris, "i can taste your chapstick."

"good job baby, i'm so proud of you. we love you so much," chris repeats like it's a mantra and she feels so much more calmer due to the brothers' love and comfort.

"you okay?" matt and chris ask her softly at the same time and she just feels so loved, so seen and she almost gets the urge to cry again but not because she's upset, rather because the people surrounding her make her feel ever so lovely and eased.

"i'm okay," she replies and she's so happy when she takes in the fact that it's genuinely the truth.

the lump in her throat has disappeared and her heart appears to be beating at a regular rate once more. she silently smiles to herself, still leaning into chris' touch and indulging in matt's casual chatter. everything feels normal again and she's beyond grateful. her head feels like it has been lifted from the water and suddenly she feels like she can swim again.

❛ ━━･❪ ִ ࣪𖤐 ❫ ･━━ ❜

tags: @mattslolita @sturniolololover @mattsleftnipple03 @that-general-simp

[fluffyprettykitty]

Billy Russo's NSFW alphabet

Pairing: Billy Russo x female reader (no other specifications!)

Word Count: 2000 words

Warnings: oral sex, multiple sex positions, sex toys, gun kink, choking, temperature play, cum play, sub/dom roles, praise kink, phone sex, if I missed anything major please let me know!

Author’s Note: what won the poll yay! template can be found here! Dedicating to my fellow billy hoe @that-sarcastic-writer, ily, here's some porn &lt;3

PS: dividers & banners by @/saradika

Main Masterlist ・❥・Billy Russo Masterlist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Billy is big into aftercare after sex, he likes taking care of their partner, soothing their skin, applying lotion, helping them shower, and cleaning them up thoroughly, he is into taking care of his own so he wants the same treatment for his partner.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Billy's favorite body part of his is of course his cock, he is the type of guy who has given a nickname to it and always refers to his cock as a second person rather than a body part. Now as for his partner Billy is into necks, he loves kissing and caressing and watching you squirm just from the most innocent touch.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Billy truly does love cumming, he says that it's a work of an art. and god's gift to mankind to cum on your body, he does prefer cumming on you rather than inside you cause he loves watching it spread but he's never opposed to a creampie either.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Billy would never directly tell you because he loves not losing control but he loves it when you take care of him, like praising him, telling how good he's doing, it just makes him go harder and rougher on you hearing your sweet praises. His pride though won't let him admit it because he also loves playing into the sensual dominant role as well.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Billy is one of the most experienced men in the world. He has been into women since he was a teen and knew how to chase them and make them his therefore there have been many one night stands in his life, some longer than one night and some multiple times a year. In short Billy has never met a woman he couldn't flirt with.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Billy loves it when you top him. He loves sitting back on the couch or the bed and watching you work your body on him. He will guide your hips or hold your back or your breasts helping you leverage your movements better. He is truly into the visuals and if he could he'd had you like this several times a day.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Billy is more serious than most, he loves praising you or guiding you and in a moment he might tell a joke to relax you a little but for the most part he sticks to the main part.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Billy is very much into himself therefore he takes really good care of his body with several trips to beauticians and what not so he is very well groomed and most clean.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He can get very intimate as in he loves being a romantic a heart and he loves that primal position of taking care of a woman. He loves caressing you and soothing your skin and kissing you again and again making you feel loved in the moment and watching you look at him with eyes full of love. He will whisper several i love yous in the right moment when he feels the need to.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Billy mostly likes jacking off to your pictures or videos you took together when he's away on his business trips. He loves setting up his screen to watch your pretty body or calling you to hear your sexy voice and he grunts and strokes his cock when you tell him to. He is very into masturbating together over the phone.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He is a very kinky man. There isn't any sexual position he hasn't yet tried but one of his favourites is lingerie. He loves buying you the goods himself and watching you model for him, or keeping one of your panties in his pocket.

Billy is also very very into choking you but also loves it when you choke him as well. He gets extremely aroused when you wrap your hands around his neck and squeeze and if it wasn't for his extraordinary military discipline he'd cum right there and then.

Another kink of his is temperature play, whether wax or ice or anything else he loves that slow sensual build it gives you, and loves taking his time fucking you and building up the suspense towards the main act.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Billy is the type of person who could have you anywhere and on any surface available but he's absolutely favorite is shoved up in a corner a little bit away from preying eyes because he honestly couldn't wait to get you home to fuck you. Second favourite is the car for the same reason. Then comes the bedroom only for that nice long morning fucks.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

What doesn't turn him on. Billy is a very horny man by design, because he's incredibly passionate and genuinely extremely active in all senses he rarely rests. Being in the same room with you is what drives him crazy the most, he can't spend too much time together without wanting to fuck you or thinking of how to shove you in the nearest corner. If anything you've always wondered how he can live with constantly having an almost hard-on.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Billy would never do something you didn't want to do. He is very big on boundaries and discussing kinks and what not with each other.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Billy does love giving more than receiving only cause he is such an expert with his tongue and he knows how much you also love it. Billy loves taking his time and turning into an all night activity with his shirt off cause he will get sweaty, his fingers working inside you or on your thighs and his tongue close to your cunt teasing you and working you. He also loves eating you out from the back whenever he watches you lean a little too much on the counter and he can barely help himself. Billy also likes when you ride his face whenever work stresses you a little too much.

Now as for him, he is never opposed to one although his favorite is when you want to do it while he's driving. Something about your mouth on him, your ass up with his spare hand slapping you or fingering you gives him such an insane power trip that keeps him going. Although he never would say no to a messy blowjob when he's working hard on a case.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Billy can truly be anything you need him to be. Fast or slow, he loves to build it all to keep the momentum and give you the maximum pleasure. Billy switches it up several times, going from slow to rough back to slowly kissing right before hitting the edge and back at it again. At stressful days at work he works your body like a boxing cage and on other days he works your body like a violin. It all depends on the circumstances.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He is not opposed to a quickie although he does prefer it longer. He usually goes that route during dinner parties or outings with other people. He is incapable of keeping his hands to himself even if you had fucked a minute before arriving everywhere so his option to not let other people get too suspicious is a quickie. A quick fill as he loves to call it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Billy loves experimenting, trying new things, new positions, several role play parts, trying out new toys or new ways. He is a very risky man in all aspects of his life so he makes sure his bedroom activities are also extremely adventurous.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Billy's stamina is incredible, he is the very definition of an insatiable man and therefore it's hard for him to stop. He could last a whole day teasing your denying you his cock when he feels like to but if you keep on teasing him yourself he would try his very best to please you. He always make sure you cum first regardless, but mostly he gives it all in the end.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Billy didn't had toys on his own before he met you but after he managed to build quite a collection. All of different speeds and volumes and what not, all to be used on you, when you get him his first cocksucker he almost whines about it but he does secretly use it when he's away. Now as for the cock ring he keeps it on until you tell him to take it off and he listens like the good boy he is!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Billy loves to tease but his endgame is always to fuck so his teasing doesn't take too long to stop. He just loves watching you squirm in the moment until you beg him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Billy can ber very loud for a man, he moans and grunts and talks a lot during the act. He moans when he eats you, he grunts when he fucks you and he groans when he gets inside you. It's hard for other people not to hear you when you go at it.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Billy does love his toys. But what he loves the most is his guns. He is not one to hesitate to use it during the act once he knows he can trust you and you are about as crazy as he is. He loves taking the cool metal side up your things and teasing your entrance till he slips int inside and in the same vain he likes it when he keeps it against your neck fucking you from behind. He might like it a little bit more when he also makes you cum on it and then has you lick it clean but that's for you to find out.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Billy has a perfect adonis-like body, his military training has given him the discipline and the motivation to always keep at it so this with the combination of how well-groomed he is gives him the perfect body. Now as for his cock, he is a bit lengthy cause of his tall build and girthy enough to make you remember him forever.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Billy has an incredible sex drive because he is a constantly horny man. Even worse than a teenage boy. He is always ready for it anywhere and in any place.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Billy does sleep quickly afterward especially after having taken a shower with you and wrapping you tenderly inside his arms. He sleeps with his chin on your shoulder and drifts when your breaths match up.

If you want to be notified about my future stories please follow my library blog @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on notifications!

[angelrari]

gossip girl · pt. xii

based on the tv series gossip girl

max verstappen / charles leclerc x socialité!reader

fc: elsa hosk (y/n) · taylor hill (léa) · barbara palvin (jolie)

a/n: hi! i am so sorry this took so long, but this winter break has been hell!!! i had exams this week and i couldn't find time to write. i hope you all enjoyed your holidays and that this new year is a good one for you. here's a new part for you, hope you enjoy it!!! (and, once again, sorry for taking so long!)🤍

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· · · · ·

gossip girl here, your one and only source into the scandalous lives of monaco's elite.

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 132.363 others

yourusername see you soon vegas🎲❤️

view all 1.233 comments

username this is so disrespectful...

username right... can't imagine how max must be feeling... why is she posting a picture of charles too? stick to one man!!!!!

scuderiaferrari once a ferrari girl, always a ferrari girl

redbullracing we will see!

pierregasly where's my picture? i know i am your favorite here

yourusername want me to post the pictures we took in the welcome party?

pierregasly nevermind!

username BUT WE WANT TO SEE THEM

landonorris nice colour 😉

username omg i didn't realize she was wearing lando's color!!!!!

username lando really doesn't know how to flirt

username collecting drivers like pokemon

· · · · ·

max was used to the attention, to the never-ending hate comments on social media and to people wishing him misery. he knew it was a side effect of his success and over the years he had learnt how to deal with it. but what he did not expect was to see these insults aimed at you. he was aware of how everyone seemed to be interested into knowing every single detail of your daily life, he knew how public your past relationship with charles had been and how the fans had loved every single second of it. but that was four years ago and he thought that should have been enough time for everyone to move on, but he was wrong.

your last instagram post had been the catalyst of it all. the press had started creating this narrative where they painted you as some sort of predator of formula 1 drivers, even posting polls online of who would be your next prey. and, although, he has never been a fan of social media, a few of this posts still made it to his "for you" page.

the warm sun rays streamed through the curtains of the hotel room. it had been a few days since you landed in abu dhabi. the warm weather felt like a gift after spending a couple of weeks in las vegas. you woke up in max's arms and he starred at you as you slowly moved and wrapped your arms tighter around his body.

"morning". you said and you moved to give max a quick chaste kiss. "how long have you been awake for?".

"just a few minutes". he said while carefully stroking your hair. "your phone kept beeping"

"shit, sorry, i forgot to put it on silent". you moved to grab your phone from nightstand and then rested your head again on max's chest.

"it's okay".

jolie's name popped on the screen of your phone. she had been texting you to tell you she had landed earlier in abu dhabi. she was the type of person to never miss an opportunity to have some fun, so when she had told you a few days ago to tell you she would be attending to this weekend gp, you were not surprised. you had figured out that the youngest of the leclerc brothers also had something to do with this, as arthur was also racing in the city this weekend.

"jolie is asking me to join her for the formula 2 sprint race". you explained to max.

"oh, right, she's came here to see arthur?".

"yeah". you replied. "do you mind if i go with her?".

"no, i don't care, i'm probably going to be busy anyways". max answered. "why are you asking me this?".

"it's just-. nothing". you replied as you draw circles on max's bare chest. "i read an article yesterday about me, us and charles, not a very nice one i must say-".

"you shouldn't read that shit".

"i know, i know". you replied after letting out a sigh. "but it got me thinking maybe you don't feel comfortable with this".

"what exactly?"

"me getting along with charles, with his family-".

"i don't care". he repeated with confidence. "i trust you".

· · · · ·

joliedebelle posted a story

caption: back at it with my favorite two ❤️

· · · · ·

jolie was nervously biting her nails as she watched the end of the sprint race on the screen of arthur's garage. it had been a tough race for her best friend, he had finished 21st after having a few issues with the car.

"fuck". she cursed under her breath. "he's gonna be so upset after this".

"at least you're here to cheer him up". you said. "try to remind him that the big day is tomorrow, not today".

"right". jolie replied. "when does the f1 qualy start?".

"uhm". you started. "in-".

"in less than an hour". you heard a male voice from behind you say.

charles, who was already in his red race suit, was standing behind you. his hair was a bit messy, probably because he had recently changed his clothes, and he was gently fixing it with his fingers. jolie, who was excited to see him, opened her arms to give him a warm hug. afterwards, he smiled at you and leaned in to give you a quick kiss on your right cheek. unintentionally, you felt yourself blushing at the innocent, but adorable action.

"it didn't go well, right?". he asked as he watched the results of the formula 2 sprint race on screen.

"yeah". jolie replied. "luckily there is another leclerc that we will be cheering on today".

"i'm afraid someone here is going to be rooting for anther driver". he said as he stared at you.

"i don't even like gasly that much". you replied and charles let out a loud laugh.

"she is always cheering for you". jolie said. "when you broke up, she would never miss a race and she would get so nervous sometimes that she would start praying".

"oh, really?".

"you didn't have to expose me like that, you know?". you told your sister who shrugged her shoulders.

"well, it's the truth". she said. "she's always gonna be your number one fan".

"good". charles replied. "because i am always going to be hers".

· · · · ·

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[upsidedownwithsteve]

Bad For Business: Level Ten

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [4K] An enemies to lovers AU. Join the team at the Upside Down Arcade, where the machines eat your quarters and the staff have some personal issues. Stay tuned for the Pick Your Own Adventure polls to progress in the story.

“Who’s Logan Duncan?”

You faltered, hands slipping over the buttons of Dig Dug as you looked over at Steve. The game beeped angrily at you as one of the tiny dragons took your last life. You frowned, annoyed, and tried to not let the embarrassment of Steve’s question show on your face. 

You were the last two in the arcade, dealt another closing shift together because everyone else got the chance to reject Murray’s question first. Your name was pencilled in beside Steve’s on the staff schedule and due to recent events, it didn’t really bother you as much as it used to. You’d both spent the majority of closing playing on the machines, smirking at each other at every win and pointedly ignoring the bucket of soapy water you should’ve been using to clean the Icee stain that Dustin Henderson created over by Donkey Kong. 

“Who?” You tried and failed to sound nonchalant.

Steve frowned too, holding up a piece of wrinkled paper that had a phone number scrawled on it, a name underneath with the instructions to ‘call me.’ You’d thought nothing of it when the stranger had slipped it to you across the desk that afternoon. The guy - Logan - had been nice enough, fairly handsome with short blonde hair and a nice smile who’d tried all afternoon to win enough tickets for his little sister. 

But that didn’t matter. 

“This guy,” Steve waved the slip of paper in front of you, scowling when you shoved another coin into the machine. Dig Dug started up again, beeping like it was arguing with him. “It fell out of your jacket when I was cleaning the office.”

You snorted, your eyes back on the screen even though you knew Steve was staring at you. “Nobody cleans the office, Steven.”

Steve ignored this, staring down at the note. The handwriting was much neater than his, he noticed. “So, are you gonna call him? This Logan guy, I’m guessing he wants a date, you gonna go?” He said the strangers name in an exaggerated drawl, like it was a ridiculous thing to be called.

“Are you jealous?” You asked, a smile starting at the corners of your mouth, lifting your lips too easily. Dig Dug was still playing, the digitised beeps filling the silence as you tore your gaze away from your tunnels to look at the boy. 

Steve was pink and glaring, rosy cheeked as he scowled at you. He would’ve argued back immediately if it weren’t for the pit of his stomach turning over. He knew he was flushed, the tips of his ears no doubt red, but he felt fucking green. He’d been hooking up with you for the past month, nothing promised, nothing spoken about. Just the usual teasing and arguments broken up by frantic make out sessions in the back of his car, his fingers slipping under your skirt when you were both still fuzzy with sleep and early for a shift. 

It had been a month of pulling at clothes, little patience had when it came to getting the other one as undressed as possible in a half hour lunch break. You lied easily to your friends, your parents, your co-workers, hardly feeling guilty as you snuck out your bedroom window and into the BMW that was parked half way down the street. The way Steve made you feel was too good to feel guilty over. 

And that was becoming a problem. 

“Jealous?” Steve repeated. “Me? No. No!”

He was cute when he floundered, you realised. Always handsome, but especially cute as he stared at you wide eyed and fidgeting, his hands - and Logan’s number - shoved into his pockets before he changed his mind and crossed his arms over his chest instead. 

“Why would I need to be jealous? We’re not- we’re not like, dating or anything.” Steve swallowed hard, biting back the ‘are we?’ he wanted to add onto the end of his statement. “I’m just, you know, wondering.”

The arcade was quiet as you watched the boy struggle through his words, shyness biting at his cheeks, his skin cotton candy pink under the lights. Once again, Dig Dug died and the game beeped at you, the screen flashing brightly. Steve Harrington seemed determined to make you lose your high score, one way or another. 

“No, I guess we’re not,” you mused, making a face that made Steve wonder what your game plan was. You looked too calm, less concerned about the conversation topic than the boy was. “I suppose I should call him then, huh?”

Steve’s frown returned, a deep thing that pinched his brows together and he wrinkled his nose in annoyance. Logan’s number had disappeared from his hold, and you wondered if it was a scrunched up ball in the depths of his jeans pocket. You turned away from the screen, leaning against the machine instead, the low lights of the arcade turning you both into shades of neon and shadows, inky where it wasn’t bright. 

“He doesn’t look your type, princess.”

You grinned, unable to help yourself. For all the years of poking and pressing and teasing each other, a jealous Steve might just be your new favourite game. You pouted, all dramatic, doe eyed and pretty. “He doesn’t?” You brushed an imaginary piece of lint off of Steve’s chest, just for an excuse to touch him. “Tell me, what’s my type, Harrington?”

Steve was on you before you could stop yourself from grinning, your smile devoured by his lips, an angry kiss that was full of frustration. Steve missed you until you gave in, lips melting between his, a pretty push and pull that had enough fight behind it that it made him groan. You let him back you up against the side of Dig Dug, the buzz of the electronics inside making your skin fizz, Steve’s open mouthed kisses down your neck doing the same. 

It’s why you’d started wearing dresses to work, skirts, all flowy and short, easily pulled up in the same way that Steve was doing now. His hands wandered easily, more than used to what you liked, what you wanted, how you felt against him. One hand was on the nape of your neck, keeping your mouth against his, the other trailing fire up your bare thigh. You were just as ready for it all, fingers fisting his hair, pulling him closer as if to prove some kind of point. Steve was pressed up against every inch of you, already half hard from the way you whined when he nipped at your bottom lip. 

“Someone who can turn you on like this,” Steve finally answered, breathless as he was cocky. His fingers slipped under the cotton of your underwear, barely ghosting over your slit but you were wet enough that he moaned alongside you. “Shit, honey, already so needy, huh?” He tutted, all mock condescension, his nose nuzzling against your cheek as he grinned. 

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you told him, but your breath was a little weak, wrecked by lust and you were still clinging onto Steve as he continued to tease two fingers over your folds. 

Steve hummed, barely able to keep himself from laughing. It was a warm wash of hair over your neck, another kiss to your jaw. His fingers explored further, Steve cooing softly when you brought one foot up to press against Space Invaders, spreading yourself wider for him. Steve had you pressed between to arcade machines, hardly hidden, but far away enough from the one working camera above the cash register. 

“You like it,” he reminded you, coaxing another pretty noise from your lips as he rubbed softly over your clit. It was a slow tease, something you both rarely had time for, but Steve seemed intent on proving himself today. “Don’t you? C’mon, princess, you’re usually so chatty for me. Don’t you wanna tell me how much you like it?”

You weren’t sure what Steve was referring to anymore, if he wanted to know that you liked it when he teased you, or if you liked what he was doing to your cunt, those slow, lazy circles on your clit that was making a mess of his hand. 

You whined, impatient and bratty and not wanting to give in. So you curled a hand around Steve’s wrist instead, silently telling him he better not stop. But the boy tsked, a disapproving sound that still made your cunt clench down on nothing, and shit, maybe Steve could tell because he was smirking even wider than before. 

“D’you think Logan could make you feel like this?” Steve cooed, voice dropping an octave, a raspy, warm thing that made you shiver. “Hmm? Think he could touch you this good? I make you come real hard, don’t I princess? Tell me.”

You were panting, eyebrows pinched together, body lazy against Steve’s as you trusted him to keep you upright. You knew the boy wanted an answer, wanted you to give in and beg and plead all pretty, doing everything he could to get your voice that breathy way he loved. 

“You’re- you’re alright,” you tried to tease but you sounded pitchy and desperate, fingers scratching through Steve’s hair just to drop and cling to his shoulders instead. 

Steve grinned when he kissed you, a bruising thing that was meant to make you back down but you licked your tongue over his with as much heat as he did. It wasn’t a secret Steve could make you come. Shit, he could make you come embarrassingly fast, his fingers and tongue well acquainted with every part of you now. His ego was far from bashed at your words, he knew what he did to you, ‘cause you did the same to him. Still, he frowned, a mocking pout on his lips as he tried to pretend you hurt his feelings. Instead, his cock jumped in his jeans, pressing against the denim and he tried his best not to rut against your thigh. 

“Try again, honey.” Steve’s fingers fell away from your clit only to dip inside of you, two curled up just right, thick and stretching you out. His voice was sugar, syrup, sticky sweet and falling onto your skin. “C’mon, I know you wanna be good for me.”

And you did. But old habits die hard so you grinned and cupped Steve’s crotch, palming over the denim until you could wrap your fingers around the outline of his hard cock. You watched his eyes flash and his nostrils flare at your touch, hips jutting forward like he couldn’t help himself. 

“I dunno - mmph - think I could be good for a guy who took me out.”

Steve’s mouth dropped, lips parting and eyes going a little hazy, both at your touch and his words. He leaned in, fingers slowing, a lazy drag in and out, hitting all the right spots and making you squirm. His forehead touched yours, breath fanning over your cheeks and you could smell his cologne, that expensive stuff that now clung to your pillowcases, the jacket you wore the night before when he had you pressed into the backseat of his car. 

“Yeah?” Steve groaned, nose bumping yours, eyes fluttering shut ‘cause you were squeezing the hard length of him, smiling every time his cock twitched in your hold. Still, he didn’t make a move to undo his jeans, happy to let you tease him despite the way he thumbed over your clit. “You wanna go on a date w’me, princess?”

“I didn’t say that,” you panted, always wanting an argument. Your eyes fluttered closed, a fight to keep them open as Steve hooked his fingers and rubbed little circles inside of you. “So full of yourself, Harrington.”

Steve grinned, liking the bite, the fight, the bitchy, bratty side of you that kept him hard as a fucking rock. He kissed at your cheek, sweeter than you deserved. “I think you’ll find you’re full of me, sweetheart.” 

You would’ve rolled your eyes, maybe even snarked back, but Steve sped up his movements and put more pressure on your clit, heat hooking in your stomach and windingwindingwinding. 

“Want you inside me,” you said instead, a whimper clawing at your throat, your hands pulling at Steve’s jean button. “Like, right now.”

Steve let out a noise that was a mix between a moan and a whine; a needy, wrecked thing that only made you even more desperate for him. He’d had you every way bar that, had his fingers and mouth and tongue discovering every part of you, in the back of his car, in the staff room, the store cupboard, your bedroom when your parents left for the weekend. 

But something always happened, time ticked too fast, condoms were lost from impatient fingers behind towers of boxes, police officers shone flashlights into windows and co-workers banged on locked doors. But now. Now…

“You’re - oh shit - you’re tryin’ to distract me from my point,” Steve argued weakly, his eyes closing as you shoved his jeans out of your way and pushed your hand into his boxers. He was hot and hard and leaking, finger barely able to wrap around the girth of him but he hissed at your touch. “We were having a discussion, princess - fuck me, do that again - about, ‘bout a date.”

You pulled the boy into you, pushing up to your toes, up against Steve, your free hand fisting the collar of his T-shirt until he took the hint and kissed you. Hands still played with the other, slow teases that faster and more precise the more your lips touched. 

“Fuck me,” you whispered, a salacious plead that made your body flush with heat but Steve just threw his head back and let you nip at his throat. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, fingers slipping from your cunt, leaving wetness against your thigh as he grabbed at you, hitching your leg higher up his hip. He ground into you, pushing his cock further into your hand, crushing his hips into yours. Your dress slipped up, the pretty fabric bunching between you, showing off the wet patch on the front of your underwear and Steve swore down he blanked out, just for a second. “Tell me you wanna go on a date with me, honey. Admit it and I’ll give you whatever you fucking want.”

You weren’t ready to lose this game, this fight. Not yet. So you doubled down and let out a soft whine, a pretty, girlish sound that matched the way you looked up at Steve from beneath your lashes, doe eyed and lips parted, your mouth a pink, pouty thing from all his kisses. You felt his cock throb in your hand and you gave him a little squeeze before you spoke. 

“Don’t you wanna fuck me?” You were whispering, still pressed between the arcade machines and up against Steve, both of you bathed in ultraviolet light. Dig Dug still beeped for attention, an incessant noise, but Steve’s choppy breaths were louder. “Because I want you to fuck me so bad, Steve. Please?”

He groaned, head ripping forward in defeat so you taste the sound on your lips, his teeth nipping at your jaw, your throat. He was losing it, losing the game, losing the fight, losing control. Steve rolled his hips into yours, nudged his nose at your cheek and waited until you met his gaze. His eyes were hooded, darker than ever, burnt caramel under thick lashes. 

“Say ‘please’ again for me,” he murmured, lips brushing over yours, an almost kiss, but you could taste his words and they were spun sugar, they were dripping in sin. “Shit, princess, say ‘please’ again.”

So you smiled, saccharine sweet, pecking at Steve’s lips once, twice before you whispered, “please fuck me, Steve.”

It all happened fast after that, Steve fumbling in his wallet for a condom, the packet falling to the floor before you stepped on the foil, hands pulling at Steve’s boxers, at your own underwear. Cotton and lace got stuffed into Steve’s pocket, his lips kissing a trail over your thighs as he held you pull them off, everything about it messy and frantic. He took a quick lick through your folds while he was on his knees, rough and deep enough that you gasped out, legs buckling, dragging him back up to by his hair to kiss you. He grunted as you licked the taste of yourself off his tongue, his hands grabbing at your waist almost too tight before he told you:

“Turn ‘round, honey.”

The pet names were falling from his mouth too easily, coated in affection because he was too caught up in the way you spun for him, hands braced ok the arcade machine, back arched for him. Even when he called you ‘princess’ now, it was with a fondness that he’d managed to hide before.  

“Fuck, that’s it,” he praised, smoothing a hand over your ass, bringinf your dress up to fist it at your lower back, holding you as he tugged at his cock, once, twice, and gave you the first inch. “Jesus Christ, look at you.”

He was a stretch, something you’d anticipated, because every time you took Steve’s cock in your mouth, your jaw ached and it was a messy, sloppy thing. But Steve loved it, cooing and praising you for every inch you could take, telling you how pretty you looked and now was no different. He palmed at your ass as he slid in a little more, pulling at your cheeks so he could watch the way your pussy sucked him in, pink and pretty and wet. 

He was gone. 

“Yeah, fuck, takin’ my cock so well, honey, does that feel good?” He was rambling, words tripping from his lips too fast, punctuated with harsh pants as he smoothed a comforting hand down your spine. You could only nod and whine in response. “Fucking Christ, she’s such a pretty thing, so greedy, huh? Does she want more?”

Steve slipped a hand round your front, fingers trailing across the soft of your stomach, over the swell of your chest until he found the edge of your sundress and he could pull down the collar, fingertips pulling roughly at a nipple. “Tell me.”

You found your voice then, huffing out a moan before pulling Steve closer by the nape of his neck, your back crushed to his front, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against your bare ass every time he rocked his hips into you. 

“More, yeahyeahyeah,” you told him, eyes closed, head thrown back against his shoulder so he could kiss and bite and suck at your neck. You were going to be a mess tomorrow, skin littered in six shades of purple because of Steve fucking Harrington. “Harder, Steve.”

He did as you demanded, hand leaving your chest so he could drag it up to your neck and press his fingers to the skin there, firm enough that you got a little wetter, clenching around him as he held you against his chest, fucking up into you at a pace that was quickly making you fall apart. 

“Oh my god, shit, Steve—”

You felt him nod, cheek rubbing against yours sweetly, the beginnings of stubble scraping across your jaw and he kissed away the sting, his lips peppering over your cheek, your chin, your neck. “I know, I know, honey,” he groaned, his voice hoarse, ruined. He moaned out your name, a quiet thing just for you to hear. “Please tell me you’re close.”

You whined an agreement, hips pushing back against Steve’s so he could fuck into you deeper, your cheek leaning against the side of Dig Dug while Steve pounded you from behind. It made you feel a little hazy, body connected to Steve’s, the faraway noises of the arcade melting with the lights, the sound of skin on skin and your stuttered breaths. 

“Touch yourself,” Steve ordered, hips losing their rhythm. He was close. You could tell by the way his hand was clutching at your hip, still holding the hem of your dress as the blunt of his nails scraped over your skin, you could tell by the way he was whispering your name like a fucking prayer. “Touch that clit, honey, show her some love for me.”

You obeyed, too easily, the same way you did when you were on your knees for him and he told you he wanted to watch you touch yourself while he rubbed the head of his cock over your tongue. It was fucking awful, how easily you did what Steve asked. But your middle and pointer found the bundle of nerves and a livewire went through you, body electric, pulsing, buzzing, all with the slick slide of Steve’s hard length slipping in and out of you. You tensed up, jaw dropping, forehead thudding almost too against the game machine. 

“M’gonna come,” you managed to warn the boy, fingers running fast circles between your thighs. “Steve, I’m so fucking close.”

Steve didn’t waste any time, growling something filthy as he let his hand leave your neck to hold you round your tummy instead, hauling you back against him so he could feel every part of him pressed along your body. Hands sneaking over the soft of your stomach, cupping at your tits, lips kissing at your shoulders, nose nudging up behind your ear so he could groan softly into your hair as you clenched around his cock. 

“That’s it?” He murmured sweetly, too sweet for how he was grinding his dick into you. “There? Yeah, honey?”

You whined, murmuring your agreement as you clutched at his hands, doing your best to tangle your fingers with his so there was something to hold onto as you fell apart. You shattered, a noiseless scream leaving your throat as you fell forward, a hand planted against the buttons of Dig Dug and the screen flashed its scoreboard with yours and Steve’s name at the top. Steve tumbled over the edge soon after, a few quick pumps of his hips until he was spilling into the condom and groaning into the hair against your neck, your bodies slick and hot with exertion. 

It was a quiet, comfortable bubble when he finally slipped out of you, both of you catching your breaths. It was fuschia coloured, neon green and cyan blue, quiet and fuzzy, a bubble you didn’t want to pop. Steve got rid of what he needed to put in a trash can out back before he returned to help you back into your underwear, a kiss he couldn’t help give pressed to your knee as he slid the cotton back up your legs. Your dress was smoothed down, your hands petted at his wild hair and you both tried not to laugh at the marks on your necks, the glossy sheen of your swollen lips, the bright thing in both your eyes that could only come from a good orgasm and happiness. 

Steve cleared his throat as he pulled Logan Duncan’s phone number from his pocket once more. It was crumpled and scrunched, a little ripped and he squinted at it before showing it to you between two fingers. 

“So, I’ll pick you up at eight?” 

His cockiness was back, a confident question that he already knew the answer to because he was letting the piece of paper drop to the floor. You smiled, rolled your eyes and dropped all pretence of the game. 

‘What game?’ you thought. When did you stop pretending to hate Steve Harrington?

“You gonna come to my door? Meet my parents?” You asked, smug, excited. Nervous. “Gonna wine and dine me, Harrington?”

Steve grinned. 

BONUS CHOICES