#and i am. eighteen. and told him that

[gothgoblinbabe]

She Wolf

A/N: I said I was gonna get this done and it took me way too long and has an absurd word count but I am incapable of holding in word vomit! Inspired by She Wolf by Shakira cause idc its GOOD and it got me thinking' so here it is. Also you don't have to listen to the song as you read but I think It's fun!

Summary: You've got a crush on your best friend and he's a bit of a dick. He regrets it and tries to apologize but you're already trying to push yourself to move on any way you can, even if it's in some shady club you'd never been to before.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, swearing, Logan's kind of an asshole for a minute, Possessive/jealous!Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), friends to lovers cause that's my fave, fem reader, mutant reader, unnamed creepy guy (?) aaaand Logan absolutely has a pain kink. I think that's it but if there's any I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 7K (im so sorry but I'm not though)

divider credit here

“Are you ever gonna tell him?”

You looked up from your desk towards Ororo’s voice, sighing and taking your glasses off your nose.

“God, I don’t know, ‘ro. I don’t think I should. It’s just going to end with me being humiliated and him never wanting to even be in the same room as me again.”

You’d had a crush on Logan Howlett since the day you first walked through the doors of the mansion six months ago. You’d probably be considered best friends by now with how much time you’d spend together, doing jack shit around the mansion on your days off. Just about everyone could tell he had a soft spot for you and that you had one for him. Logan was a classic ‘tough guy’, constantly trying to hide his kind nature with a hard exterior, but it took only a couple weeks for you to crack that barrier. You weren’t exactly a seemingly ‘soft’ type either.

You’d spent the majority of your life before you joined the X-men hoping from couch to couch and hitching rides with strangers, not really having a destination or a place to call home. You’d been dropped off at a church when you were fourteen, around the time you started to turn every full moon. Your parents couldn’t live with having to chain their mutant daughter in their basement once a month, and so they dropped you where they thought you’d find some ‘help’. You’d been passed from foster home to foster home till you were eighteen, each one passing you up the moment they realized you were not like them. It was always a slip of the mask, something setting you off to make you so enraged your eyes gleam yellow and your sharp canines make an unfortunate appearance. You took off the second you could and being on the road came with its fair share of creeps; men with terrible intentions looking for opportunities. You’d never wanted to hurt anyone - truly - but when cornered by a creep, it was hard to think anyone would miss them. A couple of local newspapers caught on, debating where the wolf that tore men to shreds had gone. You weren’t an animal. You just had teeth like one.

Knowing you couldn’t lurk in town much longer, you’d hitchhiked your way to a camp occupied with people like you; lost with no place to call home. It was there that you’d met a couple of mutants who told you about Charles Xavier and the place that seemed completely unreal until you set your eyes on it. That felt like a lifetime ago by now. 

“I think you're underestimating how he feels about you,” Ororo said, bringing you back to reality. She was sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through one of your magazines as you worked at your computer to try and make a lesson plan for the coming week. 

“I think you’re overestimating how he feels about me,” you let out a short laugh, shaking your head.

Just as she was about to retort, you both heard someone shout your names from the hallway. You looked at each other curiously and left the room, hearing shouting again. 

“Are you guys gonna play Monopoly with us or what?”

You both giggled and made your way downstairs towards Scott’s voice. Him, Jean, Marie, Bobby and Logan were all sat in the living room, the game already set up on the coffee table. Bobby and Marie were picking out their game pieces, assigning everyone else to their own piece.

“Okay, Logan, you’re gonna be the dog,” Marie smiled, dropping the little metal piece into the palm of his hand. 

He was definitely not as amused, “why do I have to be a damn dog?”

Ignoring him, she handed another piece out to Jean, “you’re the thimble.”

She then handed the boat to Scott, the top hat to you, and the iron to Ororo. You all began the game after Scott painstakingly over-explained the rules and how to play. 

It was a good bit into the game that you all became distracted with conversation, eventually leaving the board game untouched. The topic of compatibility came up somehow, the conversation focused on the joy of Bobby and Marie. 

“I think anyone would be lucky to have what you guys have,” Ororo smiled, shifting her gaze between the two of them.

“And what we have, obviously,” Scott joked, hanging his arm around Jean.

“Gross,” Logan chimed in, taking a sip of the beer he’d hidden in the back of the fridge.

“I think someone is jealous,” Ororo said in a singsong voice, poking his arm.

“Of having someone hang on me all the time? No, thanks,” he scoffed.

As stupid as it was, it made you a little sad to hear he had no interest in even entertaining the idea. It wasn’t a surprise, but still a disappointment nonetheless.

Ororo brought up your name and your eyes went huge, silently begging her to keep her mouth shut.

“You don’t seem to mind her hanging on you all the time. I think you’d be cute together,” she said, smiling mischievously at you. Scott and Jean agreed and you had never wanted to smash your head into a coffee table as much as you did in that moment.

“Nah, definitely not my type of girl.”

It was just seven words, out quick without a second thought, and yet it felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You couldn’t take your eyes off the monopoly board on the table, avoiding everyone’s gaze. 

Definitely not my type of girl. 

“I think I should head to bed, it’s getting late,” you mumbled, keeping your head down to hide your blushed face as you got up from the couch and practically ran out of the room and up the stairs. 

“What the hell was that?” Scott scolded Logan the moment you were out of sight.

“That was so mean,” Ororo chimes in, backhanding him on the arm.

“I didn’t mean to be,” Logan said nervously , shrugging his shoulders, “…do you think she’s mad at me?”

“Probably more hurt than mad,” Jean said honestly. 

“Shit,” he sighed, putting his beer down to rub his face with his hands, “what do I say?”

“Not that,” Marie replied, “why did you even say that anyway? You could’ve just said no.”

“I think you like her and you’re being mean so that she wont like you back because you’re afraid,” Ororo said after a moment of silence. 

Logan sat quiet for a moment, his hands still over his face.

“Am I that easy to read?” His voice was muffled through his hands.

The rest of them couldn’t help exchanging knowing smiles.

“So you finally admit it,huh? You’ve got a crush,” Scott teased.

Logan moved his hands from his eyes to glare daggers at him, “you shut your fucking mouth or I’ll shove that monopoly board where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“I think that’s a yes,” Jean whispered to her boyfriend.

“Talk to her when you see her tomorrow. We’re not going to let you hurt her feelings just because you can’t accept your own,” Ororo advised, lightly patting him on the shoulder.

“Do you think she’s even gonna talk to me?”

“Only one way to find out.”

���──────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan tried to catch up with you the next day, always seeing you as you were leaving a room he was entering or passing by and even then, you ignored his calls of your name.

It was a little after dinner now and because it was a weekend, a couple of kids were up playing the PlayStation in the living room. Bobby and Marie sat with them, taking turns with the controllers. 

Logan entered the room after about three laps around the mansion, mentioning your name to the both of them.

“Have you guys seen her? I’ve been trying to talk to her all day, she keeps running from me.”

“Can’t really blame her,” Bobby muttered, his eyes never leaving the TV screen as he button smashed. 

“She’s in her room,” Marie answered before Logan could come up with a retort, “she went up before dinner, said she wasn’t hungry.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair, “she’s skipping dinner now too, great.”

“Go talk to her!” She insisted, shooing him away with a wave of her hand.

He made his way to the stairs and up to your bedroom, knocking lightly on your door. Hearing nothing, he knocked again, a little harder. Still, nothing. 

“You can’t avoid me forever, you know. I wanna talk about yesterday, I was a dick.”

Silence. Now he was a little worried. He tentatively grabbed the doorknob and turned, cracking it open a bit.

Your bed was made, your desk was neatly organized and you were nowhere to be seen. He noticed your purse was gone from the usual spot you’d leave it in and your closet was open, a couple garments and some shoes strewn about on the floor. It looked like you’d gotten dressed and dipped. He figured maybe Ororo or Jean might know where you were, leaving your room and looking for them instead. He found them shortly after, huddled in the kitchen. Again, he asked if either of them knew where you were.

“She’s in her room, she went up before dinner,” Ororo answered.

“No, she’s not. And her purse is gone.”

Both women turned to each other with the same worried expression.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Having tried your cellphone about thirteen times from just about everybody’s phones, they all decided they had to tell Charles. He used his ability to connect with every mutant on the planet to try and locate you, visualizing with his eyes closed. Everyone stood in his study, anxiously awaiting his conclusion. After a moment of silence, he started to silently chuckle to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asked immediately, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’m afraid you all have your work cut out for you,” he replied, finally opening his eyes.

“So, where is she?” Ororo asked, worry in her voice. 

“There is a club called The Nightcrawler - “ Charles began to explain, but Logan interjected impatiently. 

“Club? What, like a book club?” He nearly scoffed. There was no way you were at some sleazy nightclub in the city. You were a homebody and an introvert, neither of which made clubbing enjoyable. 

“Maybe we should just let her have fun,” Jean began to say, but Logan was already halfway out the door.

Uncharacteristically, you found yourself dressed to the nines in the middle of a dance floor full of people. You’d spent a while trying outfits in your room, searching for something you could actually wear out that wasn’t sweatpants and a hoodie. You’d settled on a halter top that tied at your neck and in the back and a pair of ridiculously tight pants that you’d bought forever ago and never had the guts to wear. You ended up standing in front of the mirror, choosing a pair of very cute but very uncomfortable shoes and looking over the outfit. If you weren’t Logan’s ‘type of girl’, you sure as hell were somebody’s. Trying to get yourself out there may be the best solution to forgetting the heart-crushing infatuation you had with your best friend who would never see you as anything more. 

“I feel ridiculous,” you chuckled to yourself, turning in the mirror to see the back of your outfit. You did look good, just super out of your comfort zone. You grabbed your bag and ended up slipping out when everyone was eating dinner. That’s how you ended up where you were, pushing your way through the crowd of people with a drink in your hand. You passed the raised lounge area and felt a hand on your shoulder, making you turn suddenly.

“Hey, you wanna dance?”

He was tall, leaning down a little to shout over the music. He was pretty good looking but didn’t look like Logan in the slightest, which you realized was exactly the point of going out tonight. He was dressed nice and smelled like expensive cologne. 

“Sure, why not?”

As you abandoned your half finished drink on a table and let him pull you a little further into him, a familiar song started to thump through the speakers.

“I love this song!” You exclaimed, letting the nameless guy rest his hands on your hips.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

S.O.S., she's in disguise

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

“Ironic,” you muttered under the music.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan walked ahead of Ororo, Jean and Scott, his long legs taking him much further at a much faster pace.

“Logan, slow down!” Ororo called out, jogging a bit to catch up with him.

“What if she didn’t even want to be there? What if some guy dragged her there?”

“Oh,” Jean laughed, “ I see. You’re jealous.” 

“No.”

“Yup.”

“Nope.”

“So you’d be fine if we walked in there and she is with a guy?” 

Logan slowed his pace as they approached the entrance, “sure, whatever,” feigned disdain in his voice.

The second the door opened, the bass of the music was overwhelming. It was dim, save for a few colorful lights projecting around the room. The four of them were squished together near the door, trying to pick you out in a sea of moving people. 

“This is gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack,” Scott shouted.

“Not necessarily,” Ororo replied, a smug smile on her face.

“What?” Logan furrowed his eyebrows.

She pointed across the room and he followed her gaze.

There's a she wolf in the closet

Open up and set it free 

There's a she wolf in your closet

Let it out so it can breathe

You didn’t even look like you. He’d never seen you in anything that showed that much skin or any clothes that even hugged you like that, for that matter. 

And you were with a guy.

Sitting across a bar, staring right at her prey

It's going well so far, she's gonna get her way

“So, what did we tell you?” Jean shouted, waving her hand in front of his glaring eyes.

“Just some kid,” he replied dismissively, turning to her, “doesn’t mean anything anyway.”

“You sure?” Scott nudged his shoulder, making Logan look towards you again.

That kid had his hands up the sides of your top with his head craned down to kiss your neck, your back to his chest. You were giggling, playfully smacking his arm. Truthfully, you thought the attention was nice for a change. After trying so hard for too long to get Logan to notice you, it felt good to have someone pay attention to you in that way. 

Not looking for cute little divos or rich city guys

I just want to enjoy 

By having a very good time

And behave very bad in the arms of a boy

You felt his hands squeeze your hips a little harder, enough for his nails to dig into your skin. Out of instinct, you felt your canine teeth start to poke against your lower lip. You tried in vain to tug his hands from you, only making him tighten his grip.

The switch in demeanor was obvious even from across the dark room, your smile turning into a grimace that bared your sharp teeth. You yanked the sleeves of his jacket to make him finally let go, turning around while he still had his arms ghosted around you.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

S.O.S., she's in disguise

“Touch me like that again, you son of a bitch, and I will rip you to fucking shreds.”

You gathered fistfuls of his shirt, bringing him down to eye level so he could see your snarling teeth and gleaming eyes as a hint that you weren’t bluffing. 

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

Before anyone could even tell him to stay put, Logan had already disappeared into the crowd of people.

“God damn it,” Scott huffed, following Jean and Ororo when they went after him. 

“Logan!” Jean yelled, trying to grab his jacket to slow him and only having him slip out of her grip. 

There's a she wolf in the closet

Let it out so it can breathe

“Shit, I’m kinda into the fangs. What, you gonna bite me?” He was whispering in your ear, your hands still on his shirt. Before you could do something you were going to regret, you felt someone tug your upper arm and pull you away from him.

“Come on,” Logan snapped, “we’re leaving.”

“What the hell are you doing here? What do you mean we?” You yelled back. You didn’t want to stay anywhere near that guy but you weren’t ready to leave either and sure as hell not with Logan dragging you out like an angry parent.

“Hey, she doesn’t really look like she wants to leave with you, man,” the other guy interjected, keeping a grip on you by looping his fingers through one of the belt loops on your pants. 

“Yeah? She doesn’t want to stay with you either, jackass,” Logan moved his hand from your arm to hold your hand instead, “she’s not interested.”

What the hell had gotten into him? You felt like you were in the middle of a tug of war with two dogs. 

“No one’s gonna fucking ask what I want, right?” You tried to complain, neither of them hearing you. 

“Your little doggy girlfriend here was just about to take care of me. You mad about it?” The other guy laughed and you nearly lunged at him, Logan’s hand tugging you back. He intended to pull you away so he could get to him first, but Scott, Jean and Ororo jumped in just in time. 

“Alright - enough, enough, we’re leaving!” Jean yelled, pushing you all towards the door, Logan dragging you the whole way. When you finally were out in the cool evening air, you angrily yanked your hand from his.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, turning to Logan, “and what the fuck was that?”

“What was that? You’re welcome - “ 

“I didn’t ask you to come save me - from what, having a good time?”

“Oh, yeah, it looked like you were having a lot of fun,” he scoffed, “he had you by the hip so hard he probably left a bruise.”

He instinctively reached his hand out to check and you swatted it away, “Don’t - Don’t touch me!”

None of them had ever heard you sound so pissed off and you’d definitely never snapped at Logan like that before. 

You took a deep breath and reached down to slip off your shoes, leaving you barefoot on the concrete. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized to the rest of them,” but why are you guys here?”

“You left without saying anything, we couldn’t find you and we wanted to be sure you were safe,” Ororo sighed, hugging you in relief, “we’re so glad you’re okay.” 

You hugged her back.

“I just - I wanted to disappear for a while,” you explained apologetically, avoiding Jean and Scott’s gaze. 

“Do you know how stupid it was to run off and not tell anyone where you were going?” Logan scolded you, but Jean clicked her tongue at him.

“Shut it! Enough from you! You’ve done enough damage control!”

The ride home was almost silent, your tired body slumped in the backseat between Scott and Jean, until Ororo spoke from the front passenger seat.

“Honey, I don’t mean this in a bad way, but,” she paused, thinking over her words, “what were you gonna do to that guy if we hadn’t stopped you?”

You understood what she meant immediately. 

“What, you think I was going to kill him?” you asked, crossing your arms and leaning forward in your seat, “I wasn’t. I don’t do that unless I have to and you know even then I hate doing it.”

“I know…so, what were you doing with a guy like him anyway?” she asked, trying to move on from the question that had clearly made you upset, “he seemed kinda shady.”

Logan was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white, dreading the answer.

You shrugged your shoulders, staring at the synthetic fabric of your pants.

“Liked the attention, I guess,” you answered honestly, kind of hoping you could throw anyone off the idea of you being interested in Logan, “it’s been awhile since a guy has liked me like that.”

“He only wanted one thing from you anyway,” he scoffed from the front seat. Ororo glared at him, about to tell him to mind his business before you stopped her.

“And I can’t want it either?”

That shut everybody up and Ororo turned to him again, a look on her face that said ‘you asked, you got the answer’.

You tried to bolt to your room when you all got home but Logan was quick to follow, catching up with you to stand in your path in the hallway outside of your bedroom. 

“What’s going on with you?”

“Leave me be.”

You tried to dodge around him but he stuck his arm out. 

“Logan.”

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue speaking.

“Move.”

“I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what’s going on with you. You don’t disappear like that, ever. And I wanna talk to you about last night - “

“There’s nothing to talk about. Goodnight,” you huffed, ducking under his arm and opening your door.

“I care about you, you know, I was worried,” he began to explain.

You tried to slam the door in his face but he stuck his foot out, jamming his boot between the door and the doorframe. You let go in defeat and turned away, gathering your pajamas as if he wasn’t in the room.

“Yeah? Why?,” you scoffed, trying with everything in you to bite your tongue but failing miserably, “I’m not your type of girl. What’s there to worry about?”

Logan’s face fell. He pushed the door closed behind him. 

“Is that what this is about? That’s why you went out?”

“Why do you care?” 

You still had your back to him, furiously shuffling through clothing in your dresser.

“Stop.” 

You felt his hands on your arms as he came up behind you, paralyzing you in your spot.

You let him turn you around gently, almost chest to chest.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings -“

“I’m not.”

He leaned back a little to force you to look him in the eye.

“I only said that - listen, I only said that because - “ Logan paused, biting his lip till it nearly bled, but you shook your head and slipped by him again.

“Please, don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Logan.”

You sounded so exasperated, tears forming in your eyes when you turned your back to him.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “I only said that because I didn’t want you to like me.”

You wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek and turned back to him, a confused expression on your face.

“It worked, are you happy?”

“No, I’m not - “

“Well, guess it backfired. Get out of my room.”

You were face to face again, keeping your mouth in a tight line so your lip wouldn’t quiver. It felt stupid to cry in front of him, but you couldn’t really help it once it started. 

“Oh, god, please, don’t cry,” he begged, leaning down and actually bringing a hand up to your face to wipe away a tear that rolled down your cheek. You wanted to smack it away, tell him again to just get the hell out , but you couldn’t.

“Why would you do that?” You mumbled out quietly, finally letting the overwhelming feeling of sadness cancel out any rage you had for him. You couldn’t look him in the eye again, concentrating on the throw rug you were standing on.

“I’m so sorry, princess, I am. I’m really fucking stupid,” he huffed. 

You were surprised by the softness of his voice and finally tore your eyes from the floor. He’d called you that before, but usually in a teasing way. This time it sounded endearing, like a plea of your name. 

“And what happened there, at the club? ‘She’s not interested’, what was that about?” You continued.

He sighed, still trying to figure out what exactly it was that he wanted to say. He realized there probably wasn’t much of a way to beat around the bush and he groaned, closing his eyes as he stood in front of you to make spilling his guts a little less agonizing.

“I like you - like you a lot, and I was an asshole because I figured if you hated me, you couldn’t like me back and it would save you the trouble.”

Hearing no response, he finally opened his eyes to see you still standing in the same spot, your lips parted.

“Save me the trouble of what?”

You were confused, your eyes narrowed as if you were angry.

“I don’t know…having to deal with me, I guess. I - I’ve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else and it scares the shit out of me.”

You could hear him swallow hard, his eyes looking everywhere around the room except at you. 

“And earlier, when we picked you up,” he continued, “I acted like that because I was jealous, alright? Can’t stand to see some asshole on you like that, and you were dressed all nice and - I don’t know.”

You’d never heard him sound so nervous in all the time you’d known him.

“You are my type of girl,” he finally choked out, “only type of girl I’d ever want.”

All you could do was inhale sharply, his words echoing in your mind. 

“It’s alright if you hate me, I can’t say I really blame you. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He began to walk out, convinced he’d fucked up beyond repair.

“Logan.”

Your voice stopped his hand from turning your doorknob and he turned back to you. 

No longer crying, you tentatively stepped forward a bit, nervously playing with the front hem of your top. 

“You’re not something to deal with, you know,” you muttered, letting your hair fall in front of your face.

You supposed this was the point where it was your turn to explain.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Logan, probably since the day I walked in here and I just - I think I wanted someone to distract me so I wouldn’t wallow in self pity because you didn’t want me.”

“You were trying to get over me,” he realized aloud, a small smile on his face to hide the hurt, “I deserved that.”

After a moment of tense silence, he spoke again.

“Did it work?”

His voice was low and soft, a tone you’d rarely heard him speak with.

You pursed your lips and finally lifted your head, taking a deep breath. 

“No. I don’t think it was ever going to, either,” you laughed a little, “when that guy asked me to dance, the first thing I thought of was that he didn’t look anything like you.”

Your voice trailed off a little at the end, a little embarrassed to confess that even if Logan had already flat out told you he was interested in you.

Without another word, he came close enough to reach for your hands and gently intertwine your fingers with his. He cleared his throat, nervously chewing his bottom lip before he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?”

You must have had this dream a million times over, waking up night after night and feeling so empty because none of it was real. But now, with his hands in yours, it was very real.

You eagerly pressed your lips to his, not wanting to waste another second. His lips were soft and you were encompassed in the scent of his body wash and cologne, smelling of pine and cedar wood. You brought your hands up to play with his hair at the back of his head. Logan moved his arms to wrap around your waist, pulling you further into him. 

When you finally pulled away from each other, you were both smiling like idiots.

“We should’ve done that much sooner,” you giggled.

“Agreed.”

His fingers traced small circles on the exposed skin of your back, making you shiver.

He kissed you again, this time with much more intensity. It wasn’t long before your tongues were in each other's mouths and you both had fumbled yourselves over to the end of your bed.

“Wanted you for so long,” he mumbled between kissing your neck and jaw, his hands still sliding up and down your back, “I was so stupid.”

“We both were,” you giggled a little, cut short into a moan when he licked your neck all the way from your collarbone to under your ear.

“L-Logan,” you gasped, unable to hide your blushing face.

He hummed into your neck, bringing his mouth to your ear, “Can I show you how sorry I am? Let me make it up to you.”

His voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and you let him pull you onto him to straddle his lap, lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

“Mmm, uh-huh,” you hummed, mouth hung open as he sucked light marks into your neck. 

“You have to use your words, pretty girl,” he brought his head up to rest his forehead against yours. He cupped your jaw tenderly, almost as if you’d disappear if he let go. 

Before you could answer, he moved his hands to drag your hips over his, grunting when he felt the pressure.

“Y-yes, yeah - please,” you choked out between moans, tugging his hair harder every time he pushed and pulled your hips.

“Please what, baby?”

“You - you can make it up to me,” you groaned into his neck. 

He effortlessly lifted you by your thighs and laid you with your back to the bed. You untucked his white t-shirt from his jeans as he crawled over you, desperate to get your hands underneath it. You lightly scratched your nails along his back, making him groan into your ear. He kissed down your neck to the center of your chest, gently slipping his fingers under the hem of your top and around the back. 

“Can I take this off you, baby?”

You were already sitting up before he could finish his sentence, reaching to try and untie the knot at the back of your neck.

“Eager, huh?”, he chuckled, “let me, sweetheart.”

He wrapped his arms around your lower back to tug at the knot, feeling it come loose in his hands. He snaked his hands up to the back of your neck, doing the same to the tied strings there. When it came loose, the only thing holding the piece of fabric to you was his hands at the back of your neck. He let it slip from his fingers, a smirk on his face when it fell completely.

You threw the garment somewhere to the floor and tugged on the collar of his t-shirt, bringing him down with you as laid back again and pressed your lips to his. He pulled back for a moment to yank his shirt off and immediately return his mouth to yours, making his way down to your neck. He brought both his hands to your chest and swept his thumbs over your hard nipples, eventually bringing his lips to them and sucking. 

“Ah - Logan,” you whined, making him smile against your skin.

“I like it when you say my name, pretty girl,” he mumbled, dragging his fingers down your sides and hooking them into the waistband of your pants. He kissed all the way down to your hips, moving himself to lay on his stomach with his head between your thighs. 

Before he could ask you if it was alright to rid you of them, you were already unbuttoning your pants and pushing them down your hips and thighs. He took them off the rest of the way for you and you kicked your panties off with them.

He hooked his arms around your thighs to pull you closer, licking his lips and resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh.

“I thought about you a lot, you know - like this,” he huffed, his warm breath fanning over your pussy.

You had your hands in his hair already, swiping fallen strands of hair out of his face.

“I thought about you like this, too,” you admitted, sighing as he started to plant kisses right above where you wanted him the most.

“Yeah?”

His teasing voice brought goosebumps to your skin and you nodded, gasping when you finally felt his lips graze your clit.

“This what you think about when you fuck yourself?” He mumbled into you, the vibration of his voice making you tighten your grip in his hair. He growled like an animal, trying to push you even further into his mouth by the grip on your thighs.

You were trying to choke out an answer, distracted by the wet sounds of him messily eating you out.

“Y - ah, yes, yeah - not as good as the real thing, though.”

He laughed with his mouth still attached to you and you tightened your thighs around his head, keeping him in place.

He could have spent hours with his mouth to your cunt, practically fucking you with his tongue while you whined his name. 

A knock on your door sounded through the room, the both of you freezing in place.

“Hey, I just wanted to check on you. Are you feeling okay?”

It was Scott.

 You grimaced, thankful at the very least that your door was locked, but Logan had a terribly smug smirk on his face. 

“Y-yeah, I’m alright, just - just tired,” you managed to choke out, stuttering when you felt two of his fingers slip into you effortlessly.

“You sure?”

You sighed, hating and loving Logan at the same time for what he was doing. 

“Yup, th-thank you, m’ jus’ gonna go to bed.”

Scott responded with a goodnight and you groaned in relief when you heard him walk away.

Logan was curling his fingers inside of you, still lapping at your pussy and letting you use your grip on his hair to angle his head however you wanted him. You felt the pressure in your lower stomach rise and you tried to warn him, tugging on the hair on the back of his head.

“Logan, I’m - “

“C’mon, pretty girl, c’mon.”

His encouragement sent you over the edge, euphoria blooming from your lower stomach and spreading through you. You had to cover your mouth to muffle your pornographic moans, but Logan reached up to tug your wrist.

“Uh-uh, wanna hear you, beautiful,” he mumbled into you, practically pushing your thighs even further around his head.

“Fuck, L-Logan, too - too sensitive,” you stuttered out, trying to pull his face away by his hair and failing miserably because of his grip around your thighs.

He eventually reluctantly detached himself and crawled back on top of you, sucking the taste of you off his fingers. 

“I could do that for hours, you know, if you let me,” he groaned, pulling your hips up to him so you could feel the weight of his hard cock underneath his jeans.

Still sensitive, you reactively gripped his biceps and dug your fingernails into his skin. You were going to apologize and were quickly cut off by the guttural moan he let out into the side of your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rocking his hips against yours.

“You’re into pain, huh?” 

You figured it was your turn to tease him, dragging your fingernails from his shoulders all the way down his back.

“You’re gonna pay for that, pretty girl,” he grunted, moving quickly to undo his belt and strip himself of the rest of his clothing. 

When his cock sprung up and hit his stomach as he took off his boxers, you swallowed hard; already feeling a wanting ache in your stomach again. You figured he was big - he was already a tall guy, after all - but he was far bigger than any guy you’d ever seen. Logan noticed the way you bit your lower lip, resting himself on top of you again and bringing his thumb up to pull your lip from under your teeth.

“What, are you nervous? It’s alright sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

His voice was so soft and gentle, a tone you rarely ever heard from him. 

You could feel the weight of his cock against your inner thigh, heavy and already leaking. 

“ ���m not nervous, I want you, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. You reached your hand between your bodies to line him up with your entrance, trying to push him in with your legs around his waist. 

“You sure?” he huffed, trying with every muscle in his body to not slam into you in one thrust. 

You nodded eagerly, scratching at his lower back. 

Logan couldn’t help himself and gave in, slipping himself into you.

“So tight,” he groaned into your neck, pushing himself in even further.

“You - fuck - you’re so fucking big,” you admitted truthfully, nearly drooling at the feeling of him stretching you out. 

“Feels good?”

It was hard for him to speak when you were so wet that he was nearly slipping out of you as he gently rocked his hips back and forth, trying to be gentle and let you adjust to his size. 

“Mm - uh-uh,” you hummed, gasping each time he pushed further.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he huffed and you groaned, digging your nails into him. 

“Y-yes, yeah - want you all the way in,” you whimpered.

That was all it took for him to be buried in you, grinding his hips into yours so that you were pinned to the mattress. 

He worked up to a devastating pace, practically slamming your headboard into the wall.

“S-someone’s gonna - someone’s gonna hear us,” you managed to gasp out, out of breath every time he filled you and pulled back again. 

“Don’t care, let ‘em,” he pressed his forehead to yours, bringing a hand up to your face to affectionately cup your cheek. It was so sweet and almost disgustingly hot, the caring gesture contrasting the intense feeling of him repeatedly slamming into the sensitive spot inside of you. 

He really didn’t have a care in the world about who heard you both, far too lost in the feeling of finally being able to have you under him like that. You had sweat soaked strands of hair stuck to your face, your eyes squeezed shut, and he was almost sure you’d never looked more beautiful. 

“So fucking pretty,” he huffed, his thumb swiping your bottom lip. He had an idea, one he’d considered many times when he thought of you under him like this.

“Bite me.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, threading your hand through his hair, “are you sure?”

“Please.”

You forcibly unsheathed your fangs, letting them tentatively poke at his thumb that was still to your lips.

He moved his hand to your throat, resting it there without tightening his grip. 

“Please.”

His pleading had the heat in your lower stomach rising and you obliged, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. You felt guilty - you didn’t enjoy hurting people - until he was whimpering in your ear, moaning your name over and over again. 

You bit his neck, his shoulders, his lip - all the small puncture wounds healing themselves within seconds. 

Having him so pussy drunk and groaning praises into your ear brought the pressure in your lower stomach to a max and you cried out his name, letting him fuck you through your second orgasm. 

“ ‘s good, huh, princess? Come on me, c’mon,” he was begging, feeling your muscles tense around him. That drove him over the edge, his hips rutting into you and his thrusts becoming sloppy. He finally let himself go, filling you and letting it drip from you onto the sheets. He pulled back a little to see the mess you had both made, your inner thighs painted with a mix of his release and yours. He went to pull out completely and you clamped your thighs around his hips again, keeping him still.

“Want me to stay?”

“Mhm - please.”

The sexual tension was replaced with loving comfort, Logan keeping you to his chest as he laid you both on your side. His chin rested on the top of your head and your face was against his chest with your eyes closed. You smiled at the thump of his heartbeat in your ear, nearly letting it put you to sleep. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” he mumbled into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head, “you know I love you?”

The last three words made your eyes shoot open and you looked up at him, worried you’d misheard him or maybe he was just messing with you.

“Really?”

“Of course. You think I would’ve done that with you if I wasn’t in love?”

You thought hard for a second, realizing he was right. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had hookups before, but it had been quite a long time since he’d bothered to even get to know someone like that. He wasn’t the type to lead you on, either - always up front with you, even if he didn’t have to be. 

“I love you too,” you answered, unable to hide the wide smile on your face.

“I should’ve told you much sooner,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as you snuggled into him again.

Before you could both fall asleep from exhaustion, he yanked the comforter over the both of you, hearing you mumble sleepily.

“You can make it up to me some more.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

A/N: If you made it to the end I love you <3 pls lmk what you think and reblog+like if you enjoyed!! also still navigating how to write smut without using cringe terminology so forgive me if that part sucks

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Can you please do a George having a daughter the same age as Kimi, and he finds out there dating, and freaking out?

The boyfriend/teammate

"I can't believe he thinks he's faster than me through Sector 2," Kimi scoffed, tossing a protein bar toward Yn, who caught it effortlessly.

They were sitting on a low wall just behind the hospitality area, the warm hum of the paddock swirling around them. Mechanics rushed by, PR people clicked down the walkways in sharp heels, and the ever-present sound of tires being rolled echoed nearby.

"You are faster," Yn said with a smirk, unwrapping the bar. "But he's not wrong about your starts. Those are a disaster."

"Okay, rude," Kimi mock-pouted. "I'm trying my best."

"Your best almost ended up in the pit wall in Bahrain."

Kimi blinked at her. "That was one time."

Yn arched an eyebrow. "Two."

"Okay, fine. Twice. But we’re not talking about that anymore. We’re talking about how awesome I am in Sector 2."

"Your ego needs its own garage space."

Kimi grinned, leaning back on his hands. "You love it."

Yn flushed, just barely, the warmth rising in her cheeks not from the sun.

She did. God help her, she really did.

Yn had grown up in the paddock. Her earliest memories included race day adrenaline, the scent of burning rubber, and her dad’s voice on the radio. By the time she was twelve, she could tell the difference between tire compounds just by looking. By fourteen, she was helping her dad review telemetry.

And now at eighteen, she had the run of the paddock like it was her second home.

Which was great.

Except for the part where her dad’s new teammate was annoyingly charming and exactly her type.

Kimi was just a few months older. He was confident, a little too pretty for his own good, and had a laugh that made her stomach flutter.

It had started slow. A shared joke here. A walk back from the media pen. Watching data together. And then... more.

Now, they snuck hand squeezes behind hospitality tents, exchanged texts all through the night, and once, memorably, made out in the motorhome when the team was at a strategy meeting.

But they'd kept it quiet.

Until now.

"You what?!"

George stood in the team’s motorhome, eyes wide, voice somewhere between a shout and a squeak.

Yn winced. "Dad, calm down."

"I am calm!" George said, clearly not calm. "You’re dating him?"

Kimi, ever unbothered, lifted his hand in a little wave. "Hi."

"Don’t 'hi' me! I trusted you! I mentored you! I— I— I taught you how to heel-and-toe!"

"That was very helpful, thank you," Kimi said earnestly.

George flailed. "Kimi!"

"Dad," Yn said, stepping between them, voice steady. "It’s not like we planned it. We just... started spending time together. You know how often I'm around."

"Yes, and I trusted him!"

"I’m still me," Kimi offered. "Just with your daughter’s number now."

"Not helping!"

"Sorry."

George paced a few steps, hands on his hips, then turned to his daughter.

"Yn. You’re my little girl."

"I’m eighteen."

"My baby girl."

Yn groaned. "You let me drive a car at Silverstone at fifteen."

"Exactly! Because I trust you! But this—this is different."

"Why? Because it’s Kimi?"

"Yes! No! I mean—he’s my teammate!"

Kimi raised a finger. "I’ll never crash into him on purpose."

George stopped pacing. "On purpose?"

"I mean—I wouldn’t crash at all. Sorry. That came out wrong."

George sighed dramatically and sank onto the couch.

"This is going to be a disaster."

"Or not," Yn said softly. "Dad... we care about each other. A lot."

George looked up at her, then over at Kimi, who looked surprisingly earnest. He’d taken his cap off, ruffling his hair like he always did when nervous.

"I’ll take care of her," Kimi said. "Promise."

There was a long pause.

George sighed again. "I need coffee."

The next day, the entire paddock knew.

Not because they told anyone.

Because George told everyone.

"Did you know my daughter is dating Kimi?" he said to a stunned Toto at the morning briefing.

Toto blinked. "...Congratulations?"

"Thanks. I think. Maybe. I don’t know!"

When Max wandered into the lounge later, George cornered him.

"She’s seeing Kimi."

"...And you’re telling me this why?"

"Because you’ve known him for years! Should I be worried?"

Max blinked. "About what? That he’s gonna crash her into a wall of roses? He’s the most boringly respectful guy I’ve ever met."

George frowned. "That's what worries me. No one is that respectful."

Later that afternoon, Kimi was cornered by a swarm of drivers in the cool down room.

"You’re dating George’s daughter?" Lando asked, grinning wide.

"Please tell me you told George in the car."

"No, it was in the motorhome," Kimi muttered.

"Coward," Pierre said, flopping onto a beanbag. "I would’ve done it in the garage. With the radio on."

Oscar leaned over. "Are you scared of him?"

"Terrified," Kimi admitted. "He keeps looking at me like he’s imagining pit stop sabotage."

George, for his part, was trying to be supportive.

He just... had moments.

Like when he stood outside the motorhome while Kimi and Yn were inside, dramatically clearing his throat every five minutes.

Or when he "accidentally" sat between them at dinner.

Or when he started casually asking Kimi about his intentions. Every day. In public.

"So, Kimi," George said, strolling up with a totally fake smile, "where do you see yourself in five years?"

Kimi blinked. "...Still racing, maybe. Traveling. With Yn, hopefully."

George narrowed his eyes. "Mm-hm."

"You asked," Kimi said defensively.

"Just making sure we’re on the same page."

Yn rolled her eyes so hard she almost tipped over.

But slowly, things softened.

George saw how Kimi waited for Yn outside of interviews. How he held her hand protectively in crowded media zones. How he watched her with the same tenderness George remembered in Carmen’s eyes when Yn was born.

One evening, George found them sitting under a canopy of stars behind the paddock, Kimi’s jacket wrapped around Yn’s shoulders, her head on his shoulder.

George didn’t interrupt.

Just watched for a moment.

Then smiled.

The race that weekend was a blur of chaos—rain, safety cars, unexpected pit stops. Kimi managed a podium. George finished just behind.

As they stepped off the podium, champagne-soaked and exhausted, George nudged Kimi.

"Nice drive."

Kimi turned, blinking. "Thanks. You too."

George gave him a long look.

Then smirked.

"Hurt her and I’ll replace your steering wheel with a baguette."

Kimi grinned. "Noted."

"Good. Now go kiss your girlfriend before the photographers find her."

And with that, George walked off, already planning to call Carmen and tell her everything.

Kimi ran straight to Yn, swept her up in a hug, spinning her slightly before pressing a kiss to her lips. She laughed into it, arms wrapped tight around his neck.

"He smiled," Kimi whispered.

"My dad?"

"He didn’t even flinch."

"Wow. Progress."

"Do you think he likes me now?"

Yn grinned. "Let’s not get ahead of ourselves."

Back in the motorhome that night, George flopped onto the couch beside Carmen.

"She’s in love."

Carmen looked up from her book. "We knew that."

"With Kimi."

She smiled. "I know."

George groaned. "I’m not ready."

Carmen kissed his cheek. "You don’t have to be. You just have to be there."

He sighed. "Do you think I can still scare him a little? Just to keep him on his toes?"

Carmen smirked. "Oh, absolutely. That’s a father’s job."

George nodded. "Good. Tomorrow I’m sending him a list of dating rules."

Carmen raised an eyebrow. "Color-coded?"

"Laminated."

She laughed, leaning into him.

And in the next room, Yn and Kimi lay curled on the couch, watching old race replays, fingers entwined, hearts full.

Love, it seemed, had found its place on the grid.

Even if it had to dodge a few protective elbows along the way.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you!

Also, please ignore that the ages of the people don't really make sense. Thank you!

Another also, thank you to ����Anon for your kind words (OMG, I have an anon (can I even say that?)).

To answer some questions, yes I can speak German because I'm from Austria. About writing Part 2's for some stories, I'll have to think about that.

Thank you for all your kind words and support!

Special shoutout to @heyitspapayaontop for defending me with their life. Now that's what I call a real girls girl

-🤍🦢

[itsnesss]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐞

🖇️ more...

"Our baby did it!" Max shouted as he burst into the hospitality suite with his arms raised.

"Baby? He's eighteen," you said, laughing as Max picked you up from the couch like you were celebrating a championship.

Kimi had just taken his first pole position, and the entire paddock knew it… because Max had spent the last ten minutes yelling about it everywhere.

"I raised him. I shaped him. I taught him how to survive interviews with Ted Kravitz," he declared proudly.

"You literally just gave him advice on soft tires," Oscar muttered from the corner, the forgotten "big brother."

"And it worked beautifully!" Max shot back, pointing at the TV where Kimi’s lap was being replayed. "Look at that corner. That's exactly how I take it."

"And that makes him your son now?" Lando asked, already holding up a meme on his phone with a photo of Max hugging Kimi under the caption "proud dad energy."

Meanwhile, Yuki appeared holding a handmade sign that read: "GO KIMI!! OUR POLE BABY."

"I'm the fun uncle!" Yuki yelled, jumping onto the couch with his arms in the air like he had just won something.

"What are you talking about? I’m the fun uncle," Charles replied, walking into the hospitality with ice cream for everyone and a cardboard crown on his head. "I told Kimi if he got pole, I’d buy him dessert. I kept my promise."

"And what am I?" George asked from the door, offended.

"You’re the cousin who always shows up late and no one’s really sure if you’re actually part of the family," Lando said without looking up from his phone.

"HEY!" George protested as everyone laughed.

Just then, Kimi appeared. He froze when he saw Yuki’s sign, Charles’s crown, and Max’s teary eyes.

"What… is happening?"

Max walked toward him ceremoniously, pulled a chocolate medal from his pocket, and placed it around Kimi’s neck.

"Congratulations, son. You did it. Daddy’s pole."

Kimi was silent for a second… then simply sighed.

"I regret nothing. But I need new parents," he joked.

You walked over and hugged him with a smile.

"Too late, Kimi. You’re family now. You’re stuck with us."

"Family photo!" Lando shouted, pointing his phone at everyone.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Bruce: I have an announcement to make. We are having a very important guest to tonight dinner. He will be here in five hours.

Dick: This better not be another new kid

Duke: Please let it be a new kid. I'm tired of being freshmeat

Bruce: No, you are not getting a new brother. I am.

Dick: What?

Bruce: Before my mom married my dad, she was short on cash and sold some of her eggs. Back then, the science wasn't that great, so none of the babies actually grew from them as far as she was told. I looked into it and found out they lied. I have a baby brother, and he's coming here tonight.

Duke: ....does this mean I'm still freshmeat?

Damian: Yes, it does Freshmeat

Dick ignoring them: Bruce, how mentally prepared are you for meeting your half brother?

Bruce: Me? I'm the icon of mental stability. I have a bunch of fun games we can play to get to know each other. I even have some grey ghost VHS tapes to watch!

Dick: Riiiiiight. How old is he, and what's his name?

Bruce: He's fourteen, and his name is Danny Fenton. I was eighteen when he was born isn't that wild?

Duke: Why is he doing that with his face?

Damian: I believe Father is experiencing a stroke.

Dick: Don't be mean. He's just excited to meet Danny

Duke: Look at him and tell me that you think it will go well with how he's acting

Bruce:

Dick: Okay, so maybe we shouldn't let him talk to Danny alone for a bit.

[augiewrites]

"valley reverie" - sebastian

summary: the timeline of sebastian and the farmer’s relationship based on canon dialogue

pairing: sdv sebastian x farmer

word count: 2.5K

a/n: this may be my magnum opus

The sun was beginning its descent behind the mountains when Sebastian emerged from the house for the first—and only—time that day.

He shot a glance to his mother and Demetrius, who were standing at the edge of their property, looking over the valley bathed in golden light. His mother sent a small smile back, followed by a pointed disappointed look at the carton of cigarettes held loosely in his hand. Demetruis didn’t acknowledge his existence.

Sebastian knew it was a nasty habit, but he spent most of his life with not much thought to the future—he was surprised he made it this far. Maybe his life would have been different if he had planned better; if he had considered for a moment that there was such a thing as life past sixteen, then eighteen, then twenty-one. He supposed he should start to consider a life past twenty-four, but quickly dropped the thought as he placed the cigarette between his lips and continued his stroll to the lake.

He saw it then, as his lighter sparked to life and helped the cigarette take eleven minutes off his.

Someone was sitting in his spot. A humanoid blob of denim focused intently on the bobber floating in the water.

He hesitated, then decided to keep moving—his trajectory now locked in past the stranger and across the rickety planks of wood to the smaller islands in the middle of the lake. His mother had been saying for years that she needed to build something more structurally sound, but had yet to get around to it.

As he got closer, he took in more of the scene. There was a muddy bucket next to the stranger, and he noticed a couple slimy carp flopping around inside. Whoever this was, they clearly didn’t have enough experience to catch the tricker creatures in the lake.

Just as he was about to slip past toward solitude, he locked eyes with the stranger. Their bored expression quickly turned to worry.

“Sorry, am I in your spot? Robin said it was okay for me to fish here.”

Recognition sparked in his brain—his mother had told him about the new resident of Pelican Town. The words she had used to describe them flashed behind his eyes: sweet, a little lost, cute. That last one was sent his way with an exaggerated wink and met with a scoff from him.

“Oh. You just moved in, right? Cool.”

The farmer didn’t respond, just looked on waiting for an answer to their question. Sebastian didn’t gratify them with a response, instead looking across the lake at the tree line and abandoned quarry.

“Out of all the places you could live, you chose Pelican Town?”

The farmer scrunched up their mouth slightly, beginning to reel in their line. There was nothing but a limp worm dangling from the hook. Sebastian took note of the grieving look flashing on their face before it was gone in a blink.

“Better than where I was.”

Sebastian didn’t bother responding as the farmer heaved up the bucket—they were a lot stronger than they looked—and walked away without another word.

Robin smiled at the farmer with a wave and shouted goodnight before sending another disapproving look to her son.

_________________________________________

Sebastian heaved open the door of the house, exhausted from band practice. Sam was his best friend, and he enjoyed spending time with him more than he would admit, but the newest addition to the band was definitely a hindrance.

He didn’t dislike Abigail, and he couldn’t deny that she was a talented drummer, but he had been hoping for years that her little crush on him would fade away. He could only take so much of puppy dog eyes and over exaggerated laughter at his quips that definitely aren’t that funny.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts on how to shake off the purple-haired girl—more importantly, how to shake her off without actual confrontation—that he didn’t notice the farmer leaning against the shop counter until their voice pierced through. His mother was nowhere to be seen, so they had to have been talking to him.

“What? I didn't hear you...I'm busy thinking about something. What do you want?”

The farmer narrowed their eyes at him, leveling him with a glare. “You know, I get that you’d rather be listening to My Chemical Romance and jerking off to Nietzsche than interacting with a human being, but you really need to work on your people skills.”

Well, he hadn’t been expecting that.

He expected avoidance from the farmer, based on their first meeting and subsequent run-ins where they gave him a nod of acknowledgement before going back to acting like he didn’t exist.

He realized that the farmer wasn’t as timid and one-dimensional as he let himself think.

The moment was saved by Robin entering the shop room and dropping a workbench on the floor with a heavy thud. “You’ll make better use of this than I have lately—it’s pretty old,” she looked up from the dusty bench, noticing her son frozen in the doorway, “oh, hi Sebby.”

“Sebby?” the farmer questioned with a smirk.

Sebastian rolled his eyes, brushing past his mother to get to his lair.

“Sorry about him,” he heard his mother as he descended the stairs.

“It’s fine,” the farmer laughed, “he’s cool.”

He couldn’t help the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. _________________________________________

Sebastian looked down at the frozen tear in his hand with a neutral expression on his face, though his heart was quickening its pace.

“Gunther told me it’s fabled to be the frozen tears of a yeti.”

He met the farmer’s grin with one of his own, “I really love this. How did you know?”

They shrugged, “Seemed like some emo shit you’d be into.”

A breathy laugh escaped him before he could stop it. “Well…thanks.”

“No prob. I’ll keep an eye out for more when I’m in the mines.”

“The mines?,” his brow furrowed, “how far down did you go?”

“Not super deep, I think I stopped at sixty since it was getting late.”

Sebastian gaped at the farmer—who he now realized he really misjudged—as they shouldered their backpack and turned toward the door.

“Oh,” they stopped just shy of the threshold, “your code is wrong, by the way. Third line down.”

He looked to the screen, baffled, seeing that there was, in fact, a mistake in his code.

He began to ask the farmer how they knew that, but they were gone. _________________________________________

The sun was setting on the valley, and Sebastian found himself sitting by the lake’s edge with the farmer, who was reeling in sturgeon and bass with ease.

“I’m sure the city’s different for other people, but it was corporate hell for me,” the farmer spoke softly as they baited their hook—it was different than any bait he had ever seen, and the farmer had informed him that the wild man living behind their house had taught them the recipe.

Sebastian hummed, “I guess that makes sense.”

“You guess?” the farmer teased him, flicking water at his face.

He blew a puff of smoke in their face.

The farmer coughed, then began to laugh as they fanned the smoke out of their face, “asshole.”

Sebastian grinned, leaning back on the palms of his hands and gazing across the water.

They sat in comfortable silence as the farmer cast out their line and half-heartedly focused on the bobber—they didn’t really need it anymore, but liked the safety net.

“You and Sam are probably my only friends in this town.” Sebastian broke the silence, but continued looking straight ahead.

“Well I am very likable.”

Sebastian knocked their shoulders together with a scoff.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” _________________________________________

Sebastian was indifferent—and sometimes loathful—toward most events held in their little town, but tonight was an exception. It was hard to not be in awe of the midnight jellies, and he was excited for the farmer to see them for the first time.

They were perched at the edge of the dock, along with Sam and Abigail, their feet dangling inches above the water.

It was a lot colder than expected, and the farmer was bundled in his black jacket. He couldn’t help but feel bad about the sad glances Abigail was sending their way.

The farmer looked content, and Sebastian recalled something they told him at the beginning of the season—the used to be terrified of the ocean before moving to the valley.

He nudged their shoulder with his own. It didn’t take much effort—they were sitting a lot closer than he realized. A light blush dusted his cheekbones.

“I thought I saw something moving in there…” he pointed to the void of the ocean and leaned closer to their ear, whispering, “something big, something dark.”

The farmer’s eyes widened as they looked across the vast darkness before they narrowed and turned to him.

“Just trying to scare you...” Sebastian laughed.

The farmer smiled, knocking their knee against his, muttering an all too familiar “asshole.”

It wasn’t too long before Lewis sent out the first lantern, and the water surrounding the docks was filled with glowing jellyfish.

“It’s beautiful,” the farmer breathed out as their head landed on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” his eyes landed on a glowing green jelly before looking down at the farmer, “it is.” _________________________________________

Sebastian never saw the farm in its full glory—before the farmer’s grandfather grew old and passed away—but he had been there plenty of times when it was overgrown and abandoned.

He had told the farmer this as they sat on the newly installed swinging bench on their porch. They joked that they would be suing him for trespassing, since it was technically their property at the time, even if they hadn’t known it.

It was a chilly fall day, but the farmer had made a pot of coffee to keep them warm.

“I thought this was your busy season,” Sebastian lit up a cigarette and moved the ashtray closer to where he sat. It was a newer addition to the farmer’s decor. He thought about the prideful look on their face as they held it up and told him that Leah let them use her pottery wheel. It was painted with little creatures that looked like the much happier cousins of the slimes living in the caves.

The farmer hummed, holding their mug close to their face, but not taking a sip, “Yeah…a lot busier than I thought it would be, actually.”

He grinned at them, “so, you’re slacking today, huh?”

The farmer laughed.

“I’d rather hang out with your sorry ass than work.” Despite the insult, the farmer’s tone was soft and earnest. Sebastian felt his cheeks heat up.

“Could you picture me living on a farm? It seems ridiculous, but I have been thinking about it lately.”

“If I could do it, then so could you,” the farmer linked their pinky with his, “it’s a lot more freeing than you’d think.” _________________________________________

Boxes filled with Sebastian’s things lined the walls of the farmhouse, but Sebastian and the farmer lay in bed, choosing to ignore them. 

They had all the time in the world.

The farmer was twirling the pendant dangling from Sebastian’s neck, “there’s steam coming out of your ears, Seb,” the farmer giggled and smoothed out the wrinkle between his brows with their finger.

“I’ve just been thinking,” Sebastian turned his attention from the ceiling to the farmer, “The older I get, the less I'm drawn to the city. It had a certain mystique to it, once. But it turns out that was just a romantic fantasy. The city's so busy, so full of people... I don't belong there. I'm a loner.”

A beat.

“Present company excluded, of course.”

The farmer laughed, “Well I would hope so,” they tugged gently on the pendant, pulling him closer, “because you’re stuck with me.” _________________________________________

Sebastian and the farmer had joined his family for dinner, and his mother had shooed them away with one hand as she cooed at the bundle held tightly in her other arm.

The valley was coming to life, but the ghost of a winter chill was in the air. They settled down by the lake despite the cold. It was no longer his spot, but theirs.

The farmer was skipping stones across the lake when he grumbled about how being in that spot made him want a smoke.

“No one’s stopping you,” the farmer laughed.

“I am.”

The farmer still held a loose smile as they raised their eyebrows at him, “oh?”

“I'm trying my best to quit smoking now that we're married…” He avoided their gaze and brushed some mud on the palm of his hand onto his jeans, “I don't wanna die on you. It's a bad habit. I want to have a future together.”

A baby cried in the distance. Sebastian and the farmer smiled at each other. _________________________________________

The farmer was surprised to find Sebastian’s side of the bed empty when they woke up. It wasn’t a rare occasion, as they usually found Sebastian in the kitchen after a restless sleep, but he was nowhere to be found.

They couldn’t help but worry a little bit as they pulled on their boots and opened the screen door. They paused out of instinct to let the dog run out before them only to realize that the dog wasn’t hot on their heels like usual.

They had only gotten two steps onto the porch before a mass of fur and slobber crashed into their legs.

“Oh hello baby,” they cooed down at the dog as it rolled onto its back, breathing heavily out of excitement, “good morning stink.”

“Good morning to you too.”

The farmer was so caught up in giving the dog attention that they hadn’t noticed Sebastian leaning against the porch railing.

They straightened from their crouch, smiling at him as the dog whined from the loss of affection.

“I couldn’t fall back asleep, so I went ahead and fed the animals,” he pushed off the railing and took a few steps forward to fix a rogue piece of the farmer’s hair, “one less thing for you to do.”

“Thanks, Seb,” the farmer said softly, suddenly bashful, “I’m going to check on the pumpkins. Thought I could make some soup tonight if any of them are ripe.”

They took a few steps off the porch, “feel like being a country boy today? Or did you get your fix?”

He smiled, leaning his forearms against the railing, “I'll just watch you from here. I enjoy watching you.” _________________________________________

Sebastian and the farmer found themselves sitting on the porch swing once again. It was a mild summer evening, and he was looking on as a toddler played with the dog in the yard.

He tore his attention away from the rowdy scene in front of him to look at the farmer, who was curled up at his side reading a book. He felt his heart swell.

“This is so different from my old life, but I'm really starting to like it. I feel like I really belong here.”

The farmer looked up from the book in their lap, smiling.

“I don't often show it, but I'm really happy that I'm your husband. Marrying you was the best decision I ever made.”

[minniesfiles]

OPERATION WONWOO: CALM DOWN MY GIRLFRIEND

In which Wonwoo tries to comfort his overly dramatic girlfriend after his enlistment news came out.

❧ PAIRING; wonwoo x reader

❧ GENRE; fluff, humour

❧ TAGS/WARNINGS; established relationship, idol wonwoo, tears, humour, fluff, topic of enlistment

❧ WORDCOUNT; 1.1k

𐚁₊⊹

▍5 MARCH 2025

Wonwoo never considered himself as a particularly emotional person. He was rational, practical, and logical. None of which, apparently, applied to you, who was currently curled up in a blanket burrito on his sofa, sobbing like he just told you he was moving to the moon.

He sighed while standing over you with his arms crossed. “Babe, you’re being ridiculous.”

You lifted your head from the blanket pile, eyes red and puffy. “I am not,” you wailed. “You’re leaving me for eighteen months, Wonwoo. That’s, like, a lifetime in relationship years.”

“That’s not how time works.”

“You don’t care about my suffering at all!” you sniffled dramatically.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes and shifted his weight as he continued watching you spiral into despair. “Okay, first of all, I’m not leaving you. I’m literally just going to work. Second, I’m not even doing active duty. I’m doing an alternative service because, in case you forgot, my eyesight is so bad that the government won’t even trust me with a gun and is making me do a desk job instead.”

“Still counts” you hiccupped mid-sob.

“Does it?”

“Yes” you crossed your arms, glaring at him. “You’ll still be gone, and I’ll still be alone, and — oh my God, what if you get super buff and realise you don’t love me anymore?”

Wonwoo blinked. “I’m literally going to be working in an office.”

“So? What if lifting all those papers gives you arm muscles?”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “First of all, paper isn’t that heavy. Second, even if I did somehow get buff, I wouldn’t stop loving you.”

You let out a dramatic huff. “How do I know that for sure?”

Wonwoo stared at you for a long moment before answering, “Because if I was going to leave you, it would’ve been when you made me watch that thirty-episode historical drama just so you could cry over it.”

You gasped, clutching your chest like he physically wounded you. “You said you liked it!”

“I lied.”

You let out a strangled noise, then flopped back onto the sofa. “I knew it! I’m already losing you.”

Wonwoo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Babe, I’ll be home every night. The only difference is that I won’t be promoting with the members for a while. That’s it.”

You sniffled again and gripped the blanket tighter. “It’s not just that! I won’t get to see you perform, or travel with your members, or do all the cute idol boyfriend things—”

He raised an eyebrow. “When have I ever done cute idol boyfriend things?”

“Okay, fine, Jeonghan does cute idol boyfriend things. But that’s not the point!” you huffed, sitting up to glare at him.

“The point is, I won’t get to see you in your element. I won’t get to watch you perform on stage, and I won’t get to hear you talk about making music with your members. You love being with them.”

He frowned slightly at that, because — well, you weren’t wrong.

It would be weird not promoting as a Seventeen member, not spending every day surrounded by the usual chaos and comfort of his group. He would miss standing on stage. He would miss the adrenaline of performing, the way the members bickered, the way Carats screamed their names with so much love.

But, at the end of the day, he would still be home.

Wonwoo let out a sigh and sat down beside you, resting a hand on your knee. “I get it. I’ll miss all of that too,” he admitted.

“But it’s not forever. And honestly? I’d rather be at home with you every night than stuck in a training camp running laps at five in the morning.”

“I feel like you’re just saying that to make me feel better” you pouted.

“Maybe. But it’s also true” he smirked.

“You think I’d rather be sweating in a field somewhere when I could be home with you, eating ramen and watching bad dramas?”

You hesitated. “…That does sound better.”

“Exactly.”

You sighed, rubbing your eyes. “But what if you change?”

“What do you mean?” your boyfriend frowned.

“What if, after eighteen months, you don’t love me the same way?” your voice was quieter now, and your usual dramatic energy was replaced by something more vulnerable.

His chest ached at the sight of you, and the way you curled into yourself like you were trying to brace for impact.

“Baby,” he murmured, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear. “That’s not going to happen.”

“You don’t know that” you mumbled, biting your lip.

“Yes, I do,” he said firmly. “You think I’m going to go to work, file some paperwork, and suddenly forget how much I love you?”

“Maybe there’s a really hot co-worker with perfect vision who loves books as much as you do” you shrugged.

Wonwoo gave you deadpan look. “First of all, I can barely see people’s faces without my glasses, so your imaginary rival isn’t even a threat. Second, no one could ever be you.”

“You promise?” you sniffled.

“I swear on my terrible eyesight.” That finally got a small laugh out of you, and Wonwoo felt some of the tension ease from his chest.

“Besides,” he added, smirking. “If anything, you should be more worried about Jeonghan stealing me away while I’m gone.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I knew it. He’s been trying to seduce you for years.”

Wonwoo chuckled, “you have no idea.”

You let out a dramatic sigh and flopped against him. “Fine. I’ll let you go.”

“Oh? You’re giving me permission now?”

“Yes,” you sniffed. “But only if you compensate me properly.”

“And how exactly do I do that?” Wonwoo raised an eyebrow.

You perked up. “A life-sized body pillow with your face on it.”

Wonwoo groaned. “Not this again.”

“You owe me emotional damages” you crossed your arms.

“I’m not getting you a body pillow.”

“Then I’ll just make my own,” you threatened.

Wonwoo sighed, rubbing his temples. “Okay, how would you even do that?”

“Print a giant picture of your face, tape it to a pillow, and boom. DIY boyfriend” you smirked.

“You have issues” he stared at you.

“I have needs” you corrected.

Wonwoo shook his head in defeat. “Fine. I’ll send you so many selfies that you’ll get sick of my face.”

You gasped. “Never.”

“You’re ridiculous” he chuckled, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close.

“And yet, here you are, cuddling me instead of telling me to stop.”

“Unfortunately” your boyfriend sighed dramatically. You gasped and smacked his chest. “Take that back!”

“Nope” he grinned mischievously.

You huffed, but your arms tightened around him. “Ugh. You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here you are, crying over me leaving.”

“Shut up and let me be sad. And you’re not exactly leaving, remember?” you sniffled.

Wonwoo chuckled, squeezing you gently. “Alright baby. Be as sad as you want.”

a/n; dreading the almost 2 years of Wonwoo drought icbbb

[athenaluciscaelum]

Coming up with ask again 🤭

Dante pregnancy headcanons through various installment of the franchise (i mean his reaction when he found out that his wife is pregnant)?

Note: You can ask me anytime or as many times. I work on a first come, first serve basis. So no problem

Dante finding out his wife is pregnant through various installment of the franchise:

!!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Rated: Mature

Words: 3275 words

Warning: Mention of Pregnancy, unprotected sex, demon sex, mention of abortion

Disclaimer:

Feel free to leave comments, but remember to be nice and civil.

LETS ROCK!!

So again, few assumptions were laid down here.

This is a loving relationship between Dante and Y/N. Two are married, since ask specifies 'wife'.

Pregnancy is unexpected and not planned. As for a planned one, the reaction remains the same; he will be happy.

No matter how sad and depressed he is or what he says. You will be his home, and he will come to terms and embrace you and the baby. It's just a matter of when?

You love this baby, and you are willing to fight for him/her. You want to protect them from the movement you were made aware of their existence.

Devil May Cry 3 Manga and Video Game

Dante here is young; he was eighteen when you two got married. It was rather quick, you both agree. But with your certainty that you both are meant to be together, Dante was swooned by the fact that you were still there after years of his stupidity, pain and nightmare. You didn't make his nightmare go away, but you made it so bearable.

Dante was always sure to use protection; he had to be. He had a terrible father, or so he thought back then, and wouldn't be a bad father himself.

Then something changed; Temen-Ni-Gru was erected, and Dante had to send you to safety. He asked you to go to Enzo, who will keep you out of the city. When he came back at night, you were asleep in a motel room. You couldn't understand how he knew that this is where you were; Enzo kept it secret. But it was your Dante, or... he wasn't. You could see his eye glowing red; you knew he was a demon.

You yelped as he literally lunged at you, pinning you on the bed. You moaned as he started to kiss and lick your cheek, lips and neck. You shuddered; his tongue felt long and slim like a snake. You cupped his face; it was pitch dark in the room, only moonlight illuminating your face... You spoke concerned... "Dante? Are you okay?" His voice came out rough, deep and metallic. "Need you…" You smiled, "I missed you too..."

You were about to scream when he morphed into something inhuman, but when he looked at you and touched you. It was his gentleness, his love, his soul, and his heart. Dante was scared. "Am I hideous, scary?" You cupped his scaly face. "Scary? My God, you're divine...missed you...you are back, you're home, baby..."

Dante's claws were quick to shred your clothes. "My sweet angel..." You never saw Dante so desperate and needy; he was rutting into you...as he hungrily kissed your lips. He was quick to plunge in you; it felt so different, big and with bumps. Your head felt dizzy… it was too much, but he kept hitting your sweet spot. You could not remember how many times you came, but it felt so good when he filled you to the brim. Dante collapsed on your limp body as soon as he was done; he morphed back into his human self.

A few weeks later, you felt sick for days, throwing up; your breasts were tender, and you were dizzy many times. You were a little dumb in this department and didn't think much. Dante has been so depressed since he came back. He was mostly at his desk looking at those gloves. He cried so many nights in your chest about how he couldn't save anyone he loves. But you promised him that he saved you. You blamed your skipped periods on stress you were feeling with Dante. He was the lowest, and it was obvious you felt the same.

So when you went to the doctor, they told you that you were pregnant. You were scared, so scared. You walked back to Devil May Cry, thinking about how Dante will react. He was at his lowest; you both were not financially secure, and what if he didn't want this?

Dante was deep in a whisky bottle in the afternoon, his head on his desk. You spoke softly, "Dante?" Dante shook his head, "Yeah...babe...? Good day at work?" You walked up to him and sighed, "We need to talk...."

Dante sat up straight as you held his hand and placed it on your stomach. You spoke scared, "I'm carrying our child..."

Dante blinked; was he drunk? He looked at you. He moved his hand across your stomach and tried to feel a little life in you; he was sure now. He was scared, shocked, and happy…happy not to be the only one alive of Sparda blood. "You want this with me? Look at me ..."

You just smiled and nodded, tears in your eyes, "I can't imagine it with anyone else." Dante hugged you tight. He knew his father was a better person, and he aspires to be the same for you and the baby... or more.

Devil May Cry 1 and Anime

Dante and you had quite a night before he left for Mallet Island. He was just excited he would finally avenge his mother, and you wanted your husband in your arms before he faced Mundus. When he left for Mallet Island, you were scared. Dante wanted you to stay at Devil May Cry and asked Morrison and Lady to make sure you are safe. When Dante came back, he was quiet, too quiet.

He confided in you how he killed Vergil again, and he will never be able to forgive himself. You held him tight. You had something of your own to share with him. But you did not know when and how; you were so scared.

You have seen the worst of Dante; he didn't mask anything in front of you. He just lashed out, "Why are you wasting your life with me, Y/N? You deserve better!" You were picking up bottles littered around the office; he wasn't speaking out of spite but out of genuine concern and fear. To him, he was not enough; he never would be. He destroys everyone he loves; he feared the same for you.

You sat up; you were feeling so tired and uneasy. You sighed, your hand instinctively resting on your belly, "Dante...Stop...I—" Dante looked at you with pain and saw the way your hand rested on your belly...his eyes questioned you... You nodded, "Yes, we are going to be parents."

Dante was stuttering, "How far along are you?" You thought, "A month..." Dante gulped, "Mine?" You shouted, "Dante!" Dante ran a hand across his face; he just hoped you would treat him like the shit he is and maybe even cheat on him, giving him the pain he deserves. But he knew you would never.

You cupped his face, "Dante...it's going to be fine..." Dante shook his head, "No...I will harm you both...maybe I should leave…"

Dante was making his way to exit; you can keep the place or whatever he has, but he has to be away; he will take care of financial responsibility for you and the baby. He will work to the bone...but he has to stay away. Because he loves you both.

You stopped him with all your weight, "Dante! No!" You cried, and he stopped in his tracks. You pooled on the floor crying like a child, your pregnancy hormones not helping. Your head in your hands, "God! Dante! I can't do this without you! I won't do this without you! I want the baby to have us both! Please!"

Dante saw how much he was hurting you; he was quick to gather you in his arms and put you down comfortably on the red leather couch. He removed your shoes, and he guessed your feet were swollen; he massaged them. You looked at him scared.

He was scared too, of hurting you and the baby. He spoke after a while, "Please....I need time…" You nodded. "It's okay...just remember we need you...always."

For initial checkups, Dante sent Lady with you; he was scared that even his shadow might be an omen for the baby. You were always sharing all news with him. You pinned an ultrasound for him of twins – a girl and a boy – on the fridge. You can see love in his eyes for his children. But his fear was palpable.

You were quite swollen, and four months in, you were showing a little bump. You lay down on the bed in a little nightie. Thanks to pregnancy, your breasts were heavy. Dante was in the office; you called for him. "Dante..." He bolted up to the room, the fear in his voice evident, "Is everything okay? You're in pain?" You nodded, "Yeah…can you help?"

Dante was unsure. "Sure...how?" You spoke tiredly, "My breasts are tender...can you help?" Dante looked at your heavy breasts; he was drooling inside. He was staying away from you from fear of harming you or the baby in any capacity... but you need this now, right? His big hands started to massage your tits... you moaned, and he felt it in his cock. He drank in your flustered face and how you bit your lips; god, he should paint you. You looked at him with love; he gulped, "Are you feeling better now?" You nodded, "Thanks...but nipples?" Dante was quick to pull down your top and play with your nipples, pinching and twisting them. You whimpered. He lowered his head to suck on your nipples one by one.

You were so wet, his knees driving up to your core to help you ride it out, and it certainly helped. He held you close, picking you up to place you on his thigh as you rode him... you were left satisfied. He smiled, kissing your head and belly, "Sleep tight...my world…"

Dante missed no appointment afterwards.

Devil May Cry 2

You didn't know how this even happened. Dante was always deep in a bottle, missions, or arguing with you. It was never you who argued. Dante was at his lowest, and he intentionally argued with you to drive you away. You could see through it in no time.

Dante spoke bitterly when he came back from hell, "Still here?" You were shocked at his cold voice, "Yes...are you okay? Lucis came... She told me everything... I asked Trish to help, and she figured out a way to open some portal for you." Dante laughed bitterly, "So...I should be thankful to you now? It was all you, right?" You shook your head. "That's not what I meant...Dan—" Dante stopped you, "So what you meant! Huh? I should be so thankful; you stick by poor me!" You cupped Dante's face. "Hey...I'm here...you are going to be fine....stop this..."

Dante clenched his teeth, "Why do you have to be so understanding...?" You hugged him tight. "Because I love you... and you have made me very happy..."

This was not one attempt; your friends asked you to leave Dante, labelling him 'toxic', but you knew Dante. There were better days; you have seen the best of life with him. You won't leave his side just because he was at his worst. Yes, sometimes it was unbearable. But even Dante would melt at those points, and there will be fleeting moments that will remind you. Why you two were together. He could be 'not nice' to you but never cruel. Or so you thought.

When you missed your periods, you were in denial. You took tests, and you hid all those positive tests. You had no courage to tell Dante. He was a mess; you cannot bring a child into this mess. But you wanted to protect this child with your heart and soul. It was a part of him and you. You would do anything for the child in you.

You told yourself every morning that you would tell him today. But you failed; it was already two months in. Dante was either always on a mission or in his bottles. You were not sure what to do. You were taking care of all bills and finances. Since Dante was barely taking any mission that came with a pay cheque.

You were asleep in bed after a long day of work. When the door to your shared bedroom was slammed open by Dante, he was angry and cold, "Did you ever intend to tell me!?" You were confused and frowned; your head was pounding anyway. "What?" Dante looked at you in fury; he spoke bitterly, "You think I won't notice...you throwing up every morning. You can't do it, baby...these cursed ears pick up everything. You thought I wouldn't notice your sweet human scent as a subtle hint of the demon in you now!? You really thought you could hide your meds from me!? Why do I have to know it from Lady!?"

You were pale and confused, "Lady?" Dante spoke angrily, "Yeah, she left me a pay cheque saying I need it now... She was for once not ripping me off! You really thought you could hide this!?" You shook your head as you sat in bed, your head pounding with stress, pregnancy, work and now this, "I was going to tell you…" Dante shouted, "When!?" You were not even thinking clearly now, "Soon..."

Dante was scared...so scared; he needed you to say it, "Say it..." You spoke, looking at your belly, "I'm pregnant..." Dante's denial could not work anymore; he shook his head in trying to still deny it, "No…" You looked up at him sadly, "Dante...it's true..." Dante shook his head. He spoke with a heavy heart, "Y/N, we can't.....abort it..." Your whole world was crashing; you couldn't understand what he was saying... You shook your head, speaking incoherently. You were barely functional, "No...Dante...you didn't hear it right...it's our baby…" Dante was quiet and sombre. "I did...I can't do it...either abort it or..." Your eyes were wide. "Or...?"

Dante gave you a sympathetic look. You shook your head, "No! No! No! Please!" Dante closed the door, leaving you alone. You lay down in bed, curled up, crying. Dante could hear you; his heart clenched, but he knew he had no other choice.

You were in bed till late afternoon; you even skipped your day at work because you were sick. Dante knocked at the door; he came in with a bowl of fruit; he sat it on the bed. You sat up in the bed, the stress on your face obvious; anyone could tell you were not okay. Your eyes were puffy, and your head was pounding. Dante spoke sympathetically, "Here… you need nutrition..."

You were choking on your words as your heart felt heavy, "Why do you care? You want our child dead…" Dante froze for a second; the words were so heavy. He ran his fingers through your hair. "Because I want you to live..." You looked at him, and you pleaded, "It's going to be okay; you're here." Dante looked at his hands; he felt useless. "When was I ever able to protect anyone I love?" You were determined: "I will have my child anyway. I will protect them! With you or alone!"

Dante nodded, "You made your choice..." You nodded, "I did..."

You left Devil May Cry in a week. Dante said you could stay, but you didn't want to. You could go back to your parents, but they will just remind you how they were always suspicious of Dante and will ask you to consider an abortion. You rented a little apartment.

When you went for your next appointment, you saw two little beans on the screen – a girl and a boy. You kept the ultrasound. Something in your heart said to send it to Dante. He was a father no matter what. So you gave it to Morrison. Dante was in his office; it was late at night. He opened the envelope and saw it. Any doubt in his mind cleared.

You heard a soft knock on your door. You opened it to find Dante...he hugged you tight, "I'm so sorry..."

You hugged him back, "You always come along..." Dante buried his face in your hair. "I'm so scared..." You cupped his face, "Yeah, me too...but we are in this together."

Devil May Cry 4 and Novel

Dante had a change of heart in Fortuna. When he looked at Nero, he saw a possibility he never entertained in his mind. There could be the next Sparda blood who could grow up safe. Dante reached back home happily.

You found out while he was gone. You were ready for everything. You will fight for your baby; your packs were already packed, just in case.

Dante was back with a wide smile; you smiled back. You wanted to tread carefully. Dante hugged you tight. "Y/N, babe, I missed you..." You summoned courage...and pulled back, "Dante...I'm pregnant...and I won't give up on my baby...even if it means I have to do it alone."

Dante was surprised; he muted any part after 'I'm pregnant', a wide grin on his face, "What!? Baby!? My baby!?" You were confused; he is happy. You nodded, "Our baby..." Dante quickly picked you up and twirled you around. You squeaked, "Dante! I am feeling dizzy!" Dante puts you back on your feet and rubs his neck sheepishly, "Sorry...but I'm going to be a father!" You smiled and nodded. He got on his knees to put his ears against your stomach; he sighed. He could hear those strong little heartbeats. It sounded like two – must be vibrations, or so he thought. He sighed contentedly, kissing your belly. You ran your fingers through his hair.

He picked you up bridal style and climbed up to your room. "You will rest now...no stress or overwork." You smiled, "I'm just one week in…" Dante opened your shared bedroom door. He frowned at your packed bag; now that he remembers, you were saying something else too... Dante looked at you. "Babe, why are your bags packed...?" You tried to dodge the question, "Just vacation..." Dante sets you on the bed. "You thought...I would kick you out because you are pregnant? What monster do you think I am...? I'm disappointed, babe."

You shook your head, "Dante ...no!" He clicked his tongue. "You should have more faith in me." He pouted; you cupped Dante's face to make him look at you, "No...I..." Dante started being dramatic, "What a world? My wife thinks so little of me..."

You sighed, "How can I make up?" Dante thought, "I pick the nursery theme…and decor." Your mouth was wide open at the disastrous idea. But you had no option but to agree.

Dante never missed an appointment; he was a very involved parent and a partner. He made it the most beautiful and loving part of your relationship. Though he reconsidered ever having kids after seeing the pain you went through.

Devil May Cry 5

Dante was thinking as he looked into the mirror after coming back from hell, "Am I too old?" He looked at you reading on the red leather couch; he could tell your sweet human scent changed, but he will wait for you to tell.

When you did tell him at night. He was happy; he hugged you tight, and he was grinning ear to ear. He sighed, "Are you happy?" You nodded, "very much." He kissed your forehead, his hand protectively on your belly wherever you go.

He was protective, but not overprotective. He was taking more jobs to make everything financially secure for you and the baby. He called over Kyrie and Nero a lot to help you.

He will be very happy and ready to be a father.

Tagged: @violet-2084-turkish-warrior

[sthilarions]

Something feels strange. It is there all the time, but mostly Edwin can ignore it; except when Charles touches him. Because he knows, with every millimeter of his skin, exactly how Charles’s touch should feel. And it doesn’t feel right. He wonders if Esther’s machine did something to him. Or maybe it’s because Charles is touching him differently, after what Edwin told him.

Edwin realizes what has happened at 4:37 AM, sixteen days after leaving Port Townsend.

It’s him.

He’s the wrong Edwin.

The Edwin that Charles knew is in Hell. Dismembered, in four pieces, partly digested.

The Edwin whose skin had been gradually gentled to Charles’s touch over years. The Edwin whose every inch had known Charles’s at least once, whether a careful touch while treating a wound or a brush through clothes as they pressed together in a too-small hiding place. The Edwin that Charles meant to be speaking to, when he said “I love you too” - that Edwin has been torn apart and left behind.

This Edwin has skin that does not know Charles. Does not know in every cell that Charles’s touch is Good. And he feels like a raw nerve, like fresh skin that’s just been revealed under a torn-off scab.

He can’t stop thinking about it. On day seventeen, and day eighteen, and day nineteen after Townsend. And all the days after that. He isn’t the Edwin Charles knows. He isn’t the Edwin Charles means to be holding. He’s just a Hell-made facsimile, an impostor, stealing touches meant for someone else.

(Charles finds out eventually. He’s a good detective, after all. You think he can’t figure out what his best mate’s obsessing over? And he tells Edwin that no, it’s just a body, they’re ghosts, bodies don’t even matter; he’s still the same Edwin, even if it is a different skin. And when that doesn’t help, he says - well. You’re upset because this skin doesn’t know me, and vice-versa, yeah? Well, let’s fix that. We can speed it up this time. No need to take thirty-five years again. I bet I can learn every bit of your new skin in three hours flat.

And he does.)

[pirateprincessblog]

outlaw

𝐝𝐞���𝐜𝐫.: you wish there would be a time you could call your life boring again. before all the mess, before the town fell apart, before your father disowned you. before jeong yunho. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeong yunho x f!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 11.1k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: wild west theme, cowboy!yunho, bartender!reader 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: praising, claiming, dacryphilia, marking, size kink, oral, unprotected sex, outdoor sex

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: violence, weapons, alcohol consumption, murder, slight gore, attempted SA 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: django performance might be the reason why i switched from hongjoong to yunho after four years of being loyal. NOT PROOFREAD I AM IMPATIENT I HAD TO POST IT BEFORE GOING TO BED! <3

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

"another one, sweetheart."

i'm not your sweetheart, you wanted to mutter. but you bit your tongue, remembering that your father is somewhere in the room. so you have no other choice but to approach the loud, messy table, and pour the greasy dirty man another glass of whatever alcohol you had in hand. it didn't matter anymore, as long as it filled his stomach.

"that's a good girl," he roars with laughter, heavy hand landing on your bottom and making you jolt.

your eyes seek your father, silently asking for help. but no help comes. instead, he points to a different table that demands attention, and leaves the saloon. you stand still, voices muffling around you. your neatly put bun is now falling apart, strands loose on your face and sticking due to sweat, your clothes are heavy on you, and your hands will soon start shaking if you don't take a break from all the work. from early mornings, to even earlier ones the next day, you are destined to be a servant on your own father's property. you wonder if this will last forever. pouring alcohol, dodging flying chairs and tables, taking the harassment so you can survive for another month.

if this really is your future, then what is the point of living? will he marry you off to one of these men? or will he keep you as his servant until the end of his days? you remember the day everything changed for you. you had just come back from the city, finishing the school day. barely a teen, hand in hand with your best friends. your father sat you in the empty saloon, putting his hands on your shoulders.

"you're quitting school."

just a month after you buried your mother, he told you that. there was nobody to help him, he had to fire his staff, and laid his trust into you. the business was crazy that week. who wouldn't want to come and see the owner's little daughter serving alcohol? those men congratulated your father on your birth, watched you play on the street, went to your mother's funeral and wailed with you, came to the saloon to see you struggle with bottles and glasses, only later to have their filthy hands all over you as soon as you turned eighteen. it doesn't stop, no matter how many times you ask. the pleading only makes them do it more, those sick bastards. and each one of them have a wife waiting at home, and a child comforting her.

"hey, bitch, over here!"

monday was a peaceful day. no work, not at the saloon at least. but a basket full of dirty old clothes awaits by the door, waiting to be washed. it is a cold autumn morning, the sun very low in the sky and not warming at all. you drag your feet across the field, hands red from the weight of the basket and the frost. your dress catches onto various branches and bushes, but you do not look back. you need to be done before noon, so you can make lunch for your father.

reaching the river, you drop the basket on the dying grass. a few flowers are still scattered here and there, fighting their way through the cold morning dew. as you scrub your father's shirt on the washboard, you notice just how old those clothes have gotten. you both need new ones, you cannot be walking around looking like the poorest people in town, while owning a saloon. but your father sees no value in those things. talking to him is like talking to a wall that might hit you if you say something it doesn't like. so you keep your mouth shut.

the used, thin washboard suddenly snaps under your hands, a piece of wood jamming into your skin and making you yelp. your skin being almost frozen from being in cold water, and then getting pierced, makes you finally break down. you hug your knees to your chest, and bury your head into the muddy dress. you're cold, in pain, and you miss your mother. your friends. the life you had, and the life you were supposed to have.

sometimes, you selfishly blamed your mother for dying. if she was still here, you could've had a life just like your friends. finding a job in the big city, a man too, a decent one. not this.

you hide your hands in the ruffles of your worn out dress, seeking warmth. you cannot go back home without washing the rest of the clothes, and the sun is rising faster than you want it to. noon will come by soon, and you will have two tasks unfinished. your father won't be pleased.

a distant neigh and galloping have your attention, your head curiously turning to see who it could be. your heart almost sinks when you see the speed the horses are headed at towards you, but with legs and bum frozen on the ground, you cannot move. all you can do is close your eyes in defeat, hoping for the best.

the gallop stops, now switching to a trot. you open your eyes, and see two shiny horses in front of you. the two men riding them dismount, one of them standing next to his horse and taking the leash from the other one. the taller man adjusts his hat, gaze fixed on the floor, and fastens his holster. you gulp, seeing the shiny revolver resting on his hip. then, he raises his head to finally look at you. you almost forget the potential danger of the situation once you look at his brown eyes. he is tall. very tall. and absolutely gorgeous. you look away, suddenly aware of how you look. heavens, what a perfect timing.

"oh, it's just a doe." he says, voice soft and sweet. he tilts his head, trying to get you to look at him. when you don't, he takes a step closer to you, careful not to scare you away. "came for a morning refreshment?"

you don't respond. instead, you look at the man behind him. he stands still, leashes in his hands. his clothes are a bit more rugged than the ones on the man in front of you, but it fits his image very well. then, your eyes betray you end lay on the man in front of you again. he wears a brown leather jacket with fringes, dark blue jeans, and matching brown boots. his brown hat sits perfectly on his head, giving him a mysterious look. he notices you staring, and only chuckles softly. he reaches into his saddlebag, retrieving something wrapped in a white cloth.

"hungry?"

this time, your stomach is the one that betrays you. it decides to grumble as soon as you shake your head no, making the man chuckle again.

"go on, you can have it. you look like you need it."

he holds it out for you to take, closing the distance further. you step back, remembering your father's words.

"no speaking to other men outside of the saloon. if i see you do that, i will personally declare you a whore. nobody will want to marry you, and you'll be alone for the rest of your life."

charming. the man doesn't give up, as he steps further towards you. you step back again, hunger, fear and curiosity fighting inside of you and making you sick to your stomach.

"it's alright. it's just food, i don't mean you any harm."

but he doesn't know what words ring inside your head. taking another step back, your heart almost stops once again. you have stepped into the shallow river, your body losing balance following. the handsome cowboy drops the item on the floor, and firmly grabs your waist and pulls you back to stand on the grass. you instinctively grab onto his shoulders for support, and he pulls your body into his. you breathe out when your chest collides with his, overwhelmed by the situation.

"clumsy girl," he teases.

you can't make yourself move, not only because you don't want to, but because his grip is firm on your waist. he safely moves you away from the water and removes one hand from your body, only to move the loose strands of hair from your face.

"wyatt," he calls.

the other man steps towards the two of you, not uttering a word.

"you go on. i'll catch up with you."

without protest, he gets on his horse, nods towards his companion, then gallops away. you are left alone with the ridiculously handsome cowboy, now feeling a bit warmer than a few moments ago. the man finally lets go of you, picking up the cloth from the ground. a distant thunder surprises you, and you look over at the scattered clothes. the black clouds over the mountains are covering the blue sky quite fast, and it just seems at this moment that everything is working against you.

you hurriedly collect the remaining dirty clothes, crouching down and brushing it against the half of the washboard as best as you can. your hand is in pain, still dripping red, but your father's consequences are more painful. you'd rather have a hundred more splinters ripping your skin than your father slapping you across the face like he is used to.

the man lets you finish, turning his attention to the horse. in the corner of your eye, you see him caressing the horse's mane. the animal leans into his hand, enjoying the comfort of his warm and caring touch. he looks so tough, yet his actions are a complete opposite.

"if you're done staring, you can join me."

caught red handed, and red cheeked, you turn around to see him sat under the nearby tree, opening the white cloth. he sets it on the ground near him, and folds his arms across his chest. you pick up the now clean clothes, the broken washboard forgotten and floating somewhere further down the field. you sit next to him, the food serving as an imaginary border. he takes his hat off, putting it over his face and rests his head against the tree.

"if you're embarrassed to eat in front of me. now i won't look. eat. please."

and you do. you take a bite of the biscuit, enjoying it like it's your first one ever. you take the chance now that he doesn't see anything to properly look around. his horse is gorgeous, white with brown legs and head. you then look at its owner, still chewing on the biscuit. the more you look at him, the more your stomach feels all fuzzy. is this what it feels like to be attracted to a man? are you finally experiencing a crush?

you should really get home.

thunder grumbles again, causing the horse to become restless.

"shh, you're good." the cowboy says soothingly, not moving from his spot. and the horse listens.

it soothes you too, because you lean against the tree like him, and silently eat. your breathing matches his, and for a moment, you think that he has fallen asleep. until you start feeling drops of rain on your head. you don't say anything. you don't really need to, because the man interrupts his short break by standing up and putting his hand out for you to take. you take it, your hand melting into his as he helps you up. his touch is secure, and gentle. nobody has ever held you this way, and you are afraid you might get used to it. he leads you to his horse, throwing his spare jacket your way.

"i'll take you home."

"no!"

the cowboy scrunches his eyebrows, and abruptly turns towards you. his hand doesn't leave yours, no matter how hard you pull. "she speaks." he says, as if he made an important discovery.

you shake your head frantically, repeating yourself. "no, you can't."

"why?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"because."

"that's not a valid answer, sunshine."

if your stomach wasn't turning from the difficult situation you have found yourself in, it would turn from the simple nickname coming from his mouth. you aren't quite sure whether you're feeling nervous because of your father, or because of the handsome stranger. you remember that he is just a stranger, no matter in how much awe he has you. if you get on his horse, he could take you anywhere. but if you don't get on his horse, he could simply tie you up and take you with him anyway.

fuck.

"i like to walk." you blurt out, grabbing the basket of clothes and holding it in front of you, as if shielding yourself from him.

"lies."

"please, just leave me alone. thank you for the food, and for, well, not letting me fall into the water, but-"

"does he beat you every day?"

he says it with a tone so serious it has your blood going cold in your veins. his gaze becomes stone cold, dark, and it pierces right through you. seeing your distressed face, he steps towards you again, moving your hair away from your neck. the bruise you thought you so cleverly hid now uncovered in front of him. funny how a potentially dangerous stranger shows more interest in it than the town.

"or only when you do something wrong?"

"i don't see how that's any of your business."

"it isn't. however, if you want it to stop, you might have to make it my business."

you wish for nothing more than for it to stop. but exactly how does this man plan to make it his business? talk to your father? teach him a lesson? or the worst?

"i'll tell you what. i'll bring you just to the hill so nobody sees us, and you think about what i said until then."

you nod, defeated. you really need to get home as quick as possible and get started on the lunch. the cowboy helps you up on the horse, then climbs behind you. this is the closest you've ever been to a man, and if you weren't sneakily reading those short romance stories in the back of the discarded newspaper, you would think that you are becoming ill by how hot your cheeks feel. when he grabs the leash, also helping you hold the basket in the process, you take your time to admire his hands. pretty pale fingers, slightly muddy from maybe hours or days of riding. he smells of whiskey, vanilla and a hint of tobacco. you allow yourself a moment of weakness, closing your eyes and inhaling the scent. it doesn't help the way his warm chest and torso are pressed against your back, rubbing against you with each horses gallop.

when you open your eyes, you are disappointed to see the hill. it means that the short little adventure with the mystery cowboy has come to an end, and that you might never see him again. it's all up to you. and you hate that.

he helps you down, then fixes the ruffles of your dress that were slightly turned upwards from riding while you are occupied with the clothes in the basket.

"well?" he finally says, seeing that you have no intention of speaking first.

"i'll be fine." you lie.

you almost miss the way he bites the inside of his cheek from disappointment. almost. he nods, understandingly, and approaches you. for the last time, maybe. he takes your hand in his, thumb rubbing over the place where your splinter is. "take care of that. wouldn't want such pretty hands to be in pain or have a scar."

he kisses the back of it, eyes not once leaving yours. you almost shiver, from the cold and from his touch.

"thank you for your company, dove. we must part ways now, but i do hope i see you again one day. you are too pretty to forget."

he takes his hat off to say his goodbye, then climbs back on his horse. with a sweet smile and a nod, he gallops away. you stand there and watch, heart swelling with sadness. you watch and watch, until he becomes just a small little dot in the distance.

weeks pass, and your life dynamic does not change. you still serve drunk perverts, avoid sexual offers, cook, and freeze yourself by the river. only now, you wake up earlier than usual, and keep looking at your surroundings in hopes of seeing a familiar brown hat. but you never see it. it's been almost two months, and not a single sign from him. maybe for the best. he did look like bad news. very handsome bad news.

you currently sit in a dark corner in the saloon, reading last weeks newspaper for the romance update on the last page. the appearance of the main character morphs into the cowboy in your head. no longer short, blonde haired with blue eyes and bulk figure, but dark haired with a short mullet, with brown eyes and a slender figure. you didn't even catch his name, yet you shamelessly daydream about him.

the doors of the saloon aggressively swing, startling you and breaking your bubble. you turn the newspaper upside down, hiding your little secret. a young man, known as denver, stands at the entrance, face pure horror. your father approaches him, putting his hands on his shoulders to calm him down.

"what's wrong, boy?"

denver barely gets his sentence out, before countless gallops are heard outside, accompanied with various screams. "he's here."

"who is?"

"the stallion."

you have never seen your father scared. and that scared you even more. he took a step back, abandoning the young man. the saloon became a mess, everyone pushing each other on the way to the exit, but suddenly coming to a halt. you stand up, taking your place behind the bar. the people are stepping back, slowly, still facing towards the doors. they separate in two groups, making way for the intruder. and when your eyes land on the intruder, you swear your heart could jump right on the bar in front of you.

your cowboy, your mystery man, the man you prayed you'd see again, stands in your saloon. drenched in blood and dust, sweaty, and with a revolver in his hand. the look on his face when he sees you tells you that you weren't meant to see him in this state. but he doesn't say anything. instead, he approaches the bar, along with his companions. they are all a mess, but not as much as him.

"good day, darling."

your stomach twists again, and you have to fight the urge to smile. you can't smile, not when everyone around you is terrified. you clear your throat, collecting any stray thoughts before speaking. "good day, sir."

"two rooms. and two bottles of whiskey waiting for me tonight." he says, a sweet smile on his lips.

"uh, yes-"

"there are no rooms available for you." your father interrupts, making his way to the bar.

the cowboy raises his eyebrow, then looks at your father. "oh?"

"yes. so i'm afraid you'll have to call it a day here."

the young man chuckles, eyes returning to your face. he throws a roll of money on the counter, then pushes is towards your father with his stained revolver. "don't be afraid, we won't."

you feel caged by his gaze, afraid to even move. why are you here, you wanted to ask. and why do you look like that. his clothes might look different, but the look on his face when he looks at you stays the same. in the corner of your eye, you notice someone trying to exit sneakily. but the cowboy also seems to catch it, because he points his trusted weapon toward the ceiling and-

"argh!" the woman screams, pure fear painted on her face.

"nobody leaves, until i get two fucking rooms and two bottles of whiskey. have i made myself clear?" he slams the revolver on the counter, causing you to jolt and step back. "now, if your pretty little daughter said that i can have them, just why the fuck are you meddling?"

defeated, your father takes the money, then nods your way. "show them."

alone?, you wanted to ask. but your tongue feels swollen, and your jaw heavy. you don't say anything. instead, you look at the fearsome cowboy, then proceed upstairs. the three of them follow, not uttering a word. you reach the rooms, opening the doors for them to see. the cowboy nods towards the room, sending them a signal to go in. when the two finally close the door, the dark haired man wastes no time in softly pinning you against the wall, just between the two doors.

"there, there. are you that scared of me, sunshine?"

you swear your eyes couldn't get any wider, and you hate it. you must look like a freak to him. but if you do, he doesn't show any disgust. he removes your hair from your neck once again, letting it fall down your back. his knuckles caress the now yellow spot on the neck, the bruise slowly healing.

his eyes shift from the bruise to your eyes, his gaze softening. "not excited to see me?"

you gulp, figuring which words to use. you are, and you are not. you don't even know.

"that's okay."

his other hand find its spot on the back of your head, slightly tilting it so that the injured side of the neck is more exposed. you feel his warm breath against your skin, growing hotter and closer. you finally let out a noise, it being a whimper rather than a proper word or sentence. soft lips graze your skin, before his tongue delicately swipes across your bruise. your stomach has never felt fuzzier, and your head is in the clouds. all those butterflies you felt while reading the newspaper have now turned into a volcano, waiting to erupt any second. the cowboy continues giving attention to your now sensitive neck, having you tremble in his arms.

he notices, putting his other hand on your waist and pushing you further into the wall, silently ordering you to stay still. he leans his own body into you, warm sensation enveloping you and causing you to moan into his ear.

realizing your horrible mistake, your hands quickly find their way to his firm chest, in an attempt to push him away. but instead, your fingers grip the fabric of his ruined leather jacket, and your head falls completely in his control. his hand massages your scalp, all while his tongue never leaves you. he switches from tender kisses, to kitten licks, and if he doesn't stop soon, you might just drip all over the floor and his shoes. 

as if he heard you, he delivers one final kiss, before he pulls away. "i'll see you downstairs at dinner. thank you for the room, dove. and for the lunch."

hearing the door slam shut, you can finally breathe normally. you are left to tremble against the wall, your neck and underwear wet, all because of him. you rush to one of the empty rooms, at the end of the hallway. you lock it, then toss yourself on the bed. you waste no time in flipping your dress over, your fingers finding the soft folds between your legs. you gasp, more at the state of it than the feeling. you are soaked, your fingers almost slipping from your folds.

you spend a worrying amount of time trying to please yourself somehow, but the buildup is just growing and growing, not giving any signs of erupting soon. no matter how much you picture your handsome cowboy, just a few doors away.

and you don't even know his name.

"did he touch you?"

"what?!"

"i'm serious. did he do anything to you?"

"father-" since when do you care? "he didn't!"

he continues to follow you while you serve the guests, asking questions and demanding to know the truth. "did he say anything?"

"like?"

"anything."

"he asked for a prostitute and i said i'm available tonight."

smack.

nobody turns, already used to your father's free will. you bite the inside of your now stinging hot  cheek, wishing for nothing more than to hit him with the bottle of gin you had in your hand.

"fucking slut. just like your mother. give me that." he yanks the tray from your hands, causing two glasses to fall and shatter. "pick that up, and go to the stables."

"but it's dinner time-"

"judith will help me. go. now."

not only do you end up not eating yourself, but you don't see the man whose lips you're still feeling on you. maybe that's why your father told you to leave, just so you don't see him. is it possible that he knows today isn't the first time you see the cowboy?

you search for his horse, the one you thought was the prettiest one you've seen. but it's not in the stable.

"it got shot. he had to put her down." slowly getting used to sudden intrusions, you turn around. one of his companions sit on a block of hay.

"oh." is all you manage to say.

"a shame, really. especially because she was a present from his wife."

"what?" you turn around, the bucket of carrots falling from your hands.

"ah, he didn't tell you? why would he. he wouldn't be able to get into your pants if you knew he was married. haven't you noticed something shiny on his finger?"

no, no you haven't. because you were so mesmerized by his face and behavior you didn't question whether he has someone waiting for him at home. besides, a married man wouldn't... touch you the way he did?

"ah, poor thing. you thought he had a thing for you? you don't compare to his wife. he's an outlaw after all, our yunho. his wife is a perfect match for him, almost a female version of him. did you know that the bounty on her head is higher than his?"

you feel like you could throw up. from multiple reasons. you let a married man touch you. hell, you touched yourself to a married man. not just an ordinary man, but an outlaw? what if his wife finds out? is she really that dangerous? will you be next on her victim list? not able to contain the emotions any longer, you run to the corner, bending over the blocks of hay and puking on the floor.

"ah, there, there. i'm quite surprised, that was the calmest reaction yet. other women tend to jump at his throat immediately."

other women? the ground sways under your feet, threatening to crumble and swallow you.

"since you're not in a state to speak, i'll answer all the questions in your head. have a seat, please."

you finally take a good look at the man once you sit down, seeing him stand up in front of you. he's no less handsome than the cowboy, yunho, and he is older. but the somewhat evil smirk on his face is off putting. you hold the now empty bucket in your lap, carrots laying on the ground for the horses to feast on. just in case you feel sick again.

"see, while yunho does love his dear wife, she can be a bit of a handful for him. too... dominant for him, one could say. so he seeks submissiveness in other women, just like you. women who are the opposite to lori, women who are, well, nothing. much like you."

his words shoot at your heart, and you know he is right. it just feels disappointing to hear it out loud. were you really a nothing?

"he sleeps with them and whatever, and kindly robs them while they sleep from exhaustion. the rest of us do the same with others, not to worry. it's rude to exclude, don't you think? you know, you should really pay more attention to that notice board next to your house. my head is the third one from the left, right under the mighty stallion."

"why would you tell me this? what's in it for you?"

"my, you speak! what's in it for me? nothing, if i'm being honest. i just happen to be aware of the treatment your father gives you, and i guess the years are starting to catch up to me. i think i feel pity."

"you're going to ask for something in return, aren't you?"

"clever girl, you are." he crouches in front of you, cupping your cheek and caressing it with his thumb. "give me what you wanted to give yunho."

"i didn't want to-"

"you think i'm dumb? like you? i know that if he had only asked you, you would've jumped in his bed right away. therefore, i tell you, give me what i ask."

"no."

the older man scoffs, then stands up again. his hand remains on your cheek, but his thumb stops caressing it. he removes it, only to bring it back with a slap. losing balance, you fall on the ground. the man doesn't give you any time to process what just happened, grabbing you by your shoulders and throwing you on the pile of hay. you open your mouth, letting out a scream that gets cut off by his lips on your mouth. they feel greasy, reeking of onion and beef, not remotely close to yunho's.

your hands are trapped above your head, his hand holding it in place while his other one struggles with the layers of your dress and apron. you kick, as fast and hard as you can, but you only manage to piss him off. he pulls away, only to spit in your face.

"i bet you wouldn't give yunho a hard time like this. why do all women have to be so difficult? all i want to do is make you feel good, baby."

tears stream down your face, words stuck in your throat. even though nothing is blocking your mouth anymore, you don't speak.

"you know, if you just let me... i'd get rid of your father for good. i could take you with me, i'd make you feel good any time you ask. i could-"

his words are left hanging in the air, and you feel hot liquid splash over your face. the shooting noise catches up to you right after the man's body falls on you, lifeless. you finally scream, lungs hurting from the amount of it. your hands fly to your face, wiping off the liquid and staring at it. red drips down your hands, onto your neck, pure terror filling your body as you realize you have someone's remains all over you. short and fast breaths leave your mouth, chest compressed under his heavy figure. it is not until another figure pulls him off you, and puts his hand over your mouth with hushing noises.

"it's alright, love." you recognize the voice as wyatt's, who then helps you up. "hey, you're fine."

you're not. you do not know who to trust. then again, when you don't trust your own father, why bother?

"let's get you washed."

after splashing your face with cold water and wiping it with his handkerchief, wyatt helps you to the back entrance of the saloon, then goes back to the stables. probably to finish the business.

you find yourself laying in the guest bed again, only this time, the sheets aren't wet from arousal, but from tears. you spend at least two hours, eyes fixed on the wooden ceiling . you feel dirty, still feeling his dirty hands all over you. your fingers hesitantly touch your face, afraid that you'll stain them red again. your dress and apron still have droplets of now brown liquid. is this what yunho does? is that why he looked the way he did when he entered the saloon? only the blood on his clothes was still red, still very fresh.

if what the dead man said was true, then you best stay out of the cowboy's way. and just like that, your secret little romance story has turned into a horror one.

the next few days, you don't see yunho much. you see the prostitutes coming down from the top floor, sometimes two or three of them at a time. and you are disgusted. you only see him at breakfast, from afar, and he doesn't show much interest in approaching you. his companions surround him, making the frown on his face bigger every day. were they discussing the strategy of robbing the town? was there something in their way?

for a split second, the man catches your gaze. his eyes soften, and you swear you could see a faint smile on his lips. but you couldn't return it. not when you know the intentions behind it. the soft look is replaced by confusion, which grows even bigger when you only spare him an ice cold glance and move on with your work.

saturday evening, the saloon is full. it is foggy, reeks of cigarettes and alcohol, and is loud. you don't see him or his crew yet, and you are thankful for it. at least one evening of peace. so far.

"it's kind of disappointing, you know? i mean, the sex is amazing. well, you know. you had him yesterday. but it's so sad that the town fears him and wants him dead. wouldn't mind having a piece of that every day. my body is burning, and it's been two days, but i still want more."

"i know, right? what a shame. i wish he'd stick around longer. i don't know about you, but i love that thrill of knowing that he's an outlaw. a wanted man, a gorgeous wanted man, having his way with me? i don't think anything will top that. i mean, did you see his-"

"another drink?" you interrupt, not able to listen anymore.

they giggle among each other before handing you the downed glasses. the saloon quiets down when they hear thuds coming from the stairs. you regret looking up, eyes immediately locking with familiar brown ones. everyone seems to watch their step, ready to get up and free a table if yunho desires it. oh, the amount of power he holds. that isn't supposed to make you feel some type of way. you're supposed to hate him.

but how, when he approaches you so politely, tucking that loose piece of hair that's been bothering you all evening behind your ear. such a simple gesture, which awakes the oceans in you, and probably means nothing to him. just a foreplay, before he finally cages you and fulfills his plans.

slowly, but surely, the music goes on. the people are relaxed once they see yunho doesn't have any thirst for blood tonight.

"gin."

"right away."

the night goes on, with you tending to everyone. and the cowboy follows you with his eyes, so much that the two women at the bar near him start throwing themselves at him just to get his attention.

"say, when are we going to have fun again?"

"yeah, stallion. did you forget us already?"

yunho chuckles, seeing you approach the other side of the bar and mouth their words with a mocking face. you hear him, raising your head enough to look at him. caught red handed, you only awkwardly press your lips in a thin line, continuing to wash the dirty glasses.

"you were never really ones to remember," yunho simply says, bringing the glass to his lips and downing the drink in one go.

he stands up, not sparing the women a glance even after they audibly gasp and start murmuring among each other. he approaches your father, saying something into his ear, then looks at you once again before disappearing upstairs.

"here," a clean washcloth lands on the bar counter by the end of the night.

"what?"

"that cowboy, stallion. he needs a bath."

"so? he can get his own washcloths. why do i need to- oh."

"yeah, oh. we haven't had a single man in a while, so there was no need for edith. now you can go fill her position."

great.

you knock on the door, and use the other hand to fix your hair before you hear him say come in. you do as told, two washcloths secure in your hand as you go deeper in the room. it takes everything in you to stand still not collapse from the sight. his clothes are carelessly dumped on the floor, and he lays still in the wooden basin filled with water. the place is steamy, the fireplace keeping the winter cold away. yunho has his arms hanging from the basin, and his head resting against the edge. the steam has caused his hair to stick to his face, which was shiny. droplets of sweat roll down his neck and into the water, and you think that is the most beautiful sight you've ever seen.

he is so manly, so handsome, and so...

"you gonna stand there and watch while i slowly cook myself into a stew here?"

he is fresh shaven, that is the first thing you notice when you approach him. he lazily opens his eyes, the hot water having relaxed his muscles a bit more than he wanted to. "right, sorry."

you wet one washcloth, then wrap it around a bar of soap. you haven't done this since... ever. yes, you helped wash your sick cousin. but she was sick, and it was different. this? having a whole man naked right in front of you, and you were supposed to touch him?

"go on. i don't bite. not unless you want to."

"i really don't." you murmur, finally pressing the soap against his hot skin.

you exhale, your heart threatening to escape from your chest and jump into the basin with the cowboy. a thin layer of fabric is all that is in the way of you finally feeling him the way you wanted. a fabric that could so easily just slip from your fingers, and you accidentally touch him. and he likes it. and he acts on it. and-

"i see you breaking your back down there. every day. with your father, with all those perverts, with all those jealous women. you deserve better. my offer still stands, you know?"

"i'm fine," you say, just like last time.

"give yourself some time to think."

the next half hour is quiet. peaceful sounds of the wood cracking, water dripping, and yunho's calm breathing. his eyes are locked on you, and you are sweating as much as him, only for different reasons. you fear that he can read your mind, figure out just how naughty the images in your head are getting. but when it gets to a certain point, you are reminded of that night, and you stop. that bastard has stolen your first kiss, and almost stole your first time. if anything, you are thankful that yunho has brought wyatt with him.

"uh... can you sit up straight?"

yunho raises an eyebrow, amused. you clear your throat when he doesn't move, looking around before finally figuring it out.

"could you sit up straight, sir? please?"

"right away, darling."

he does as asked, exposing his back to you. heavens, you want to- you want to- you don't even know what you want. there he sits, a whole meal right in front of you, and all you can do is breathe heavily and act all clumsy. you rub the soap on his back, gently massaging him and feeling every line on his body.

"you missed a spot."

"huh?"

"right here." his warm hand takes your wrist, guiding you towards his chest once again. your hand rests over his beating heart, and if you weren't so foolishly focused on seeing what the missed spot was, you would've seen the look on his face that is yelling to kiss him.

"oh, sorry."

he doesn't get angry. instead, he chuckles fondly. you are so delicate and innocent, it hurts him. too mesmerized by your focused face, he doesn't notice that your hand is traveling to his stomach. he jolts, hand clasping your wrist so tight that it has you whimper. you seem to have found a sensitive spot, not only to the body, but to the mind and heart. the look on his face shifts from a soft to an angry one, and you take it as your cue to step back.

"that's all. you can go." he mutters, looking away from you.

"but-"

"i'll finish up. go."

coming back to the stables, it takes a lot of energy. you first go during the day, with jongho. he knew, wyatt told him. the rest only knew that wyatt and the man got into a fight and wyatt had to shoot him. jongho is understanding, kind, and doesn't seem to share any of the qualities that the dead man had given them. not only is he not interested in doing any harm to the town and its people, but he is rather helpful.

yunho, again, is nowhere to be seen. you hesitate to ask. you don't know what you did wrong, but you pray that the night isn't your last encounter with him.

you stand in front of the stables, memories flooding your brain once you see the hay blocks. they have been rearranged, some destroyed, possibly by jongho or wyatt. the horses are sitting together in the corner, enjoying the warmth of each other during the first snowy day.

"i can't do it." 

"that's alright. i won't force you. i just don't want one sick man to keep haunting you even when he's no longer here."

"i need time."

jongho only smiles reassuringly, patting your shoulder. he's nice, why doesn't your stomach toss and turn when you see him the way it does when you see yunho?

"i still wonder what he told you about yunho. your behaviour towards him isn't at all like he described it."

"what, he spoke to you about me?"

wyatt subtly kicks his knee from the side, ordering him to stop. but jongho feels rather mischievous today, and is growing annoyed of his leader. they were supposed to move on days ago, not behave like tourists.

"you first. i want to know why you despise him. well, except obvious reasons." the young man turns around, pointing at their companions scattered in the main street, keeping people away and scared.

you sit on the bench in front of the stable, running your hands through your already messy hair before finding the right words to say. "is he married?"

the two men look at each other, their faces not giving you much of an answer. they are extremely good at masking their emotions. wyatt sighs, sitting down to your right. "yes. and no."

"what do you mean? yes or no?"

"well, it's complicated." jongho says, sitting to your left.

"it's also not our story to tell," wyatt adds, looking over at jongho with a warning look, "yunho is the one that should be telling you."

you scoff, making both men look at you in confusion. "does it matter? he'll just sleep with me, you all will do your part of the job, and then you'll leave. i should do it as soon as possible, for both of our sakes. i imagine you can't wait to leave this town, just like we can't wait for you to leave."

"listen, if yunho wanted to harm you, he would. we never stay in one place longer than three days. we've been here far longer, as you can see. i don't know the reason yet, but i know he doesn't mean any harm. did he have a change of heart? doubt it. will he continue his crimes? i don't doubt that. is there something holding him here? yes, yes there is. i might have a guess, but-"

"jongho. shut the fuck up."

"i wasn't going to tell her, wyatt, relax."

the two men bicker over you, random words and sentences traveling to your ears and overstimulating your brain. you start feeling dizzy, suddenly overwhelmed by everything. you stand up and march down the street, leaving the two men to feel bad on the bench.

the next time you go to the stables, it is night again. and it is because your father throws a glass at you. it hits the wall right next to you, breaking, shards flying into your skin. you have nowhere to go, yunho's companions basically running the town by now. you don't need one of them to get a hold of you again. you sit on the new pile of hay, far in the corner. sobbing, pulling at your hair, cursing yourself.

how wise would it be to actually take his offer? would you be able to survive on your own? or would every single man in town finally be happy that you're all alone, unprotected, and out of someone's cage.

it hurts to even think about it, and it causes you to sob even more. your chest hurts, and after what seems like hours of crying, you aren't sure if it's from physical or emotional pain.

the animals seem to feel sorry for you, because soon enough two horses find their comfort in the hay right next to you, shielding your figure from the outside world. you can't help but laugh at the bigger one, his head pushing into your lap and demanding attention.

"aren't you cute?"

your fingers gently caress its neck, lulling it to sleep. it seems like the whole stable was affected, because soon enough they all start laying down one by one, calling it an early night and pulling you to sleep with them. funny how you got way more peace and affection from animals than your own family.

"moonshine."

click. click. click.

"come on, girl."

the warm surface you were laying on moves, following the mouth clicking noises and leaving your head to rest on the hay. you're still asleep, not aware that someone else has joined you in the stable. but the other person isn't aware that you're there either.

"there's my good girl," the man pets the black stallion, which lives up to its name and stands under the moonlight, in its full glory and shine. "aren't you beautiful?"

your eyes peel open, the voice slowly waking you up. you hear crunching, and a bucket rattling. when you finally open your eyes, you see the outline of the familiar figure at the entrance. it is not yet morning, that you figure out by the darkness that has swallowed the place. the only light being the gas lantern hanging from the saloons entrance, you don't see much. but you recognize that hat and figure anywhere.

"i wish you could speak, my pretty moonshine. you'd tell me why blood was spilled, and why my pretty girl won't lay her eyes on me anymore."

his...? his pretty girl? you don't move a muscle, hoping to hear more. the mare only points its head towards the bucket, demanding more food. yunho chuckles, reaching for another apple.

"do you think i scared her away? i made sure she knows i don't mean any harm to her. did someone fill her pretty head with something?"

the mare lets out a noise, as if wanting to confirm. yunho exhales, then sets the bucket aside. he goes further into the stable, walking just past you and grabs the saddle from the corner. going back, his boot gets caught in your dress, and causes him to halt. you shut your eyes, pretending to still sleep.

"heavens." he exhales.

you feel him get closer to you, and almost betray yourself when you feel his knuckles caress your face.

"darling?"

his voice is usually low and pleasant, but hearing him whisper is just something else. why does he have to be so perfect, yet so dangerous?

you stretch, pretending to not notice him yet. finally opening your eyes, you fake a gasp. you lean back into the hay, trying to keep a distance from him. he crouches in front of you, fixing his hat. you can't get over how well it suits him.

"had a good nap?"

"well, yes. had." you mumble, rubbing your eyes.

"that's no place to sleep, dove."

"it's the only place that gives me comfort right now."

he nods, understandingly. he offers you his hand to take, and you only look at him, puzzled.

"i'll take you to a place that will give you more comfort."

"i'm not sure-"

"that wasn't a question." the tone is serious, but the wink he gives you after it relaxes you.

the cowboy stands up, making his way to his mare. you stand up, dusting off your dress and following him. he puts the saddle on the horse, securing it, then offers you his hand again. this time you take it, not yet sure what he had in mind.

"go on, climb her."

"uh... she's quite... bigger than the last one. or any other one i rode on."

"yeah, moonshine is quite something. she's gentle though, nothing to worry about. go on, don't be shy."

with a bit of struggle, and a little push from yunho, you finally sit comfortably on the tall mare. she indeed shines under the moon, black fur reflecting beautifully in the dark night. yunho climbs behind you, taking the leash in his hands and guiding the mare down the street.

"is she fast?"

"she can be. want to see?"

"i don't know. i might scream."

he chuckles. he maintains the pace, gracefully trotting down the quiet sleepy town. you see some of his companions keeping watch, each nodding their heads your way as you pass them. your gaze falls on his hands, searching for the shiny item that was mentioned that night. but you don't see it. was it really a lie? or did yunho somehow know, and took it off? is the wife even real?

"hold on tight." he whispers into your ear, hot breath brushing your neck and cheek.

you grab onto his thighs, instinctively, right before you pass the last house and yunho whips the leash against the mare. it neighs, puts its two front legs up in the air and almost throws you on the grown. you gasp, but manage to collect yourself once the animal returns to its position and starts galloping. it feels like you're flying, and you're enjoying it more than you're scared of it. your hair flies into his face probably, but he doesn't say anything.

you pass hills, past the river where you first saw the man, and into the mountains. you don't remember the last time you went this far outside of town. not only because you weren't allowed, but you had no time or way. it's not as if you had a horse of your own.

his thighs are firm under your hands, nothing but pure muscle. and it suddenly drives you crazy, the way you feel his torso pressed against your back, arms holding the leash and keeping you from falling off along the way, his breath against your ear.

"you alright?"

"yes!"

"how do you feel? scared?"

"this is so much fun! it's scary and fun!"

his laugh is loud over the wind, chest vibrating behind you. the mare slows its pace when arriving on the steep mountain trails, carefully navigating to the top. once there, it comes to a halt. it is not very high, but high enough too overlook the fields, the river, and the distant town. yunho dismounts, then helps you down.

"cold?" he asks, noticing your trembling frame.

"a bit."

this time, he doesn't throw the spare jacket at you like the first time you met. he takes off his own, helping you put it on. it's warm, smells like him, and it's making you so dizzy you might just fall off the cliff. taking a good look at him, you decide that even if he is dangerous, his handsomeness makes up for it. he wears a brown waistcoat, accentuating his thin waist and broad shoulders. heavens, he is so dashing.

you stand still, waiting for his next plan. he pulls a blanket out of the saddlebag, along with the familiar white cloth, and sets it on the ground. the mare continues it's path further up, taking a spot near a boulder, as if used to the situation already. which brings you back to the questions in your head; did he bring other women here?

"sit down, peach. make yourself comfortable."

and you do, right next to him. you both sit still for a few moments, looking at the faint light in the distance. yunho then fidgets with something in the pocket of his jeans, before holding it out for you to take. in his open palm lays a ring, the very ring you've heard about and had your head spinning for days.

"hmph," he laughs through his nose, "figured that was the issue."

"there is no issue. you have a wife. end of story."

"take it."

"no."

"take it."

"i don't want to."

yunho sighs, then closes his hand again. he sits still for a few moments, as if thinking. and then-

"why would you do that?!"

you stand up, watching the shiny piece of jewelry fall from the cliff.

"if you listened and took it, you would've seen how worthless it is."

"i don't need your wedding ring, yunho."

his eyebrows are knit together, and you suddenly realize your mistake.

"you know my name."

"yeah."

"how?"

and you tell him. every detail of it, including the wife story. he listens carefully, face not giving any emotion. typical. by the time you finish, you are laying down and looking up at the shiny sky, tears streaming down your face. yunho is propped up on his elbow, laying on the side and listening. his fingers catch a fresh tear, brushing your cheek in the process. you are left completely baffled when he puts the very same fingers on his lips, tongue peeking out to lick the salty liquid.

"you poor thing." he coos, bringing his hand back to you. he removes the hair from your neck, then smiles with satisfaction once he sees your healed skin. "that's good. seems my medical techniques worked."

you scoff, putting your hair back over your neck with embarrassment. "so, uh... your wife?"

"a psycho."

"oh."

"she stabbed me. almost bled out to death if it weren't for jongho."

he says it so casually, as if it isn't a big deal. "you're still married though, right? that's why you had the ring."

"not quite. we weren't really married. it was just play pretend, so she could have half of everything i was bringing back. once i stopped, the bitch jumped me with a knife. barely made it out alive."

"then... why did you keep it?"

"to keep women away from me. well, those i didn't want."

"but you sleep with them. you use them anyway."

he frowns at the accusation. "no, no i don't. i only rob. i sleep only with prostitues, sometimes. what my companions do is none of my business. we have a deal, and i do not ask about what they do. just like they don't ask about me or what i do."

so, not all of it is true. but then again, can you really trust him?

"i'm so sorry, dove. if i knew that sick bastard would go behind my back, even after threatening them not to touch you-"

"it's fine. nothing happened." you try, seeing him get angrier with every second he spends imagining the situation you were in.

"he stole your first kiss."

"well, yes. but, what's done is done. it was barely a kiss, really. more like mouth to mouth breathing. it was like inhaling a whole onion." you say with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. but yunho doesn't laugh. instead, he unbuttons his waistcoat, then his shirt.

"what- what are you doing?"

"well, since you showed me your bruises, and told me your story, it would only be fair that i showed you mine."

you remember the night you washed him, when you went to touch his stomach and he told you to leave. kneeling in front of him, you finally get to see why. a scar decorates his lower torso, just above the jeans and the v-line. you breathe in, ready to do something you would only in your dreams.

you lean in, hands trembling against the blanket and fingers scrunching it from the nervous state you're in. yunho shivers, feeling your lips press against his scar. you don't stop there, inspired by his own actions. you allow your tongue to graze it, and when you get another gasp from him, you take it as a sign to keep going. his hand finds its place under your chin, raising your head to that you can look at him. and he snaps.

he grabs you by your waist, pulling you up so that you sit in his lap. you don't fight back, you're enjoying it. over the layers of the dress, you feel something poking you, and it makes your cheeks heat up.

"stop looking at me like that." he whispers, lips inches away from yours.

"like what?"

"with those big eyes. like you want me to ravish you right here."

"maybe i do."

"you're saying risky things, sugar."

seeing that he doesn't intend on making the first move, you do. you close the distance, pressing your lips against his. you don't know what you're doing, but try your best. luckily, he gives in, humming into your lips and kissing you properly. his hands on your waist scrunch the fabric of your dress as he contains himself from just pushing you below him and having you his way. he needs to take it slow. you're not like others.

"relax your jaw." he mumbles, and when you do, he allows his tongue to touch your lips, as if asking for permission to enter. and you grant it, parting your lips and unsurely letting your tongue join his.

he massages your muscle with his own skilled one, rubbing it just right and making your thighs rub and seek pleasure. he kisses you slow, and deep, each stroke of his tongue more passionate than the previous one. he feels you get annoyed by something, and is forced to stop.

"what is it?"

"as much as i love your hat, it's in the way."

the man chuckles below you, immediately removing the hat and putting it on your head. "there."

"how do i look?" you adjust it, getting used to the new item.

"like a feast."

with a swift move, yunho pulls your body closer to his face, so that it is between your legs. his hands shuffle through the layers of fabric, finally finding the undergarment and pushing it aside. "what are you doing? i'm going to squish you!"

"sit."

"what?!"

"sit."

you hover above him, not yet listening. this time, he is the one to get annoyed, and puts his hands on your bottom. he slams you against his face, tongue immediately licking a stripe up your already slick folds. you gasp, hand flying to his shoulders for support.

"rock your hips, sunshine. make yourself feel good."

you do as told, rocking your hips back and forth on his tongue, soft moans and gasps leaving your mouth. you tremble in his hands, the newfound pleasure too much for you to handle. "i can't- yunho, it's too much-"

the man only sends you a mischievous look, before taking the situation into his own hands. his plush lips close around your clit, sucking it, while the tip of his tongue teases the tip of your clit. you let out a long and loud moan, body shuddering from the surge of intense pleasure.

"fuuuck-" you whine, hips hopelessly grinding against his tongue.

deciding it's enough, yunho flips you underneath him with a swift motion. "do you want to do this?"

"yes, please."

"then, i'll have to prepare you. since you asked so nicely."

he flips your dress over, exposing your wet bottom to the cool air. you shiver again, his jacket not helping much with the cold.

"this is going to hurt a little. i promise i'll be gentle."

you nod, then go back to abusing the poor blanket underneath you. you bite into it, feeling his long digits intrude your tight walls. it is unpleasant, but not that painful.

"that's a good girl. you're so wet for me, look how easily you're taking me."

he starts pumping in and out, squelching noises having you completely lose your mind and almost drool on the blanket. his fingers are long, very long. how will you survive his-?

"this good, darling?"

"yes."

"yes, what?"

"yes, sir." you moan out, hips moving along with his hand in hopes of more pleasure.

he doesn't speed up. being soft and slow seems to be his way of doing it, and it is a pace you are enjoying very much. it's not fast, like you do it. you do it to get rid of it. he does it for actual pleasure. when he removes his fingers, you can't help but whine at the loss of contact. he turns you around so that you lay on your back, facing him. his hair is a mess, much like yours, and he smiles lazily at you.

"my needy girl." he coos, pressing a kiss to your lips. "can i claim you, sweet thing?"

"what?"

"do you wish to be mine?"

do you? or is it just the horny speaking instead of you? either way, you might end up regretting. so you simply say:

"yes, sir."

"say my name, darling." he pulls himself out of his jeans, the tip of his cock running circles on your sensitive clit.

"yunho."

he hums, slipping his tip past your folds. "again."

"yunho," you gasp, feeling him inch by inch splitting you in half.

"again."

"yunho-"

"more."

"yunho," thrust, "yunho," thrust, "yunho!"

he gets lost in the feeling of your tight warm walls, hips snapping deep inside of you and driving you crazy. you get wetter by the second, even more when you see him so dizzy. it's nice to know that you have him in a chokehold as much as he has you.

"does it hurt?"

"no," you reply.

"that's because you're so perfectly made for me. look at you, you fit in the palm of my hand."

that's not true, obviously. but the way he says it makes you really feel that you could fit, and that you could stay protected there. his hips collide with yours, and your eyes roll back.

"such a pretty pussy," he growls, pace getting sloppier and slower. "wish i could do this all night long."

"me too," you moan.

his hands rip your dress apart, exposing your chest. his lips waste no time in attaching to your skin, leaving bite marks all over it, until reaching the tense nipples. he takes one in his mouth, tongue swirling around it, while his other hand plays with the other. your fingers find comfort in pulling his hair, subconsciously pushing his head into you further.

"my sweet peach," he coos, cock sliding in and out so easily, "my pretty girl."

"so sweet"

"even your moans are so beautiful"

"use me for your pleasure, darling"

you find yourself moving your hips along with his, only in a faster pace. you need to finally feel that orgasm. you feel something build up in the bottom of your stomach, and you're not sure what to do.

"yunho..."

"yes, my love?"

"i don't know how to- how to orgasm."

"you'll feel it. don't think about it. just relax, and let your body do it. let me do it."

you feel the buildup, then you lose it. again, and again, until you whine about it. yunho turns you around again, so that you are sitting on his lap. you feel him deep in your stomach, almost pulsating.

"let's try this."

he helps you up and down, rolls your hips, until he finds what works for you. you hover above him, hopelessly biting into his neck to contain your inappropriate noises. his hips snap into yours with a fast pace, finally hitting the spot you didn't know existed. the buildup starts again, this time not stopping. and when pleasure washes you over, you can't help but pull at yunho's hair mercilessly, moaning into his ear and letting yourself completely go. he helps you ride it out, waves of intense pleasure washing over you as yunho helps himself get closer.

"fuck, darling." he growls, pulling out of you.

"wait, what about you?"

"i'll just- i don't know."

his hand wraps around his cock, which is ready to unleash any moment. the man almost audibly gasps when he sees you kneel in front of him, innocently opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. just how did you know?

"are you sure?"

"positive."

"absolutely sure?"

"yunho?"

"yes?"

"please cum in my mouth."

and it's all it takes. yunho jerks himself on your tongue, or at least tries to. some of it ends up on your face, but you so carefully try to collect every single drop he gives you. you don't miss the way his head falls back, eyes rolling and low moans escaping his pretty lips. coming down from his high with one last pump and moan, he finally looks at you. the texture on your tongue is not the most pleasant one, but you decide to impress him further, and swallow it. he scoffs in disbelief, running a hand through his hair.

"you are just perfect, aren't you?"

in the morning, the ride back is much more comfortable. you still wear his hat, proudly, and his jacket. he can't help but kiss your shoulder as you ride, having it difficult enough to keep his hands off you. if only he could hold you in his pocket all day.

upon entering the town, you notice the people, your people, standing and waiting. would now be the right time to tell yunho you accept his offer?

he helps you dismount, before taking the revolver in his hand.

"what's this? a rebellion?" he says, mockingly.

"does she know?" your father asks, pointing at you.

you scrunch your eyebrows, looking between the two men. something shines in your fathers hand, and you realize he also holds a revolver.

"there is nothing to know." yunho replies, approaching him and standing in front of you. "you keep your mouth shut."

"oh, but there is. see, my little daughter, if you want to whore around, you could've picked anyone from the town. not your own mother's killer."

blood runs cold in your veins. the sun suddenly doesn't shine as bright anymore, and the man in front of you morphs into someone else. he turns around towards you, shaking his head. "no..."

"he shot her."

"you shot my father!"

"he deserved it!"

"no, the fuck he didn't!"

you step back, tears burning your eyes. did you really give yourself to the man who took your mother away from you? who also took your father away from you?

"listen-" yunho tries, hands reaching to touch you.

"don't touch me."

"he came here to finish the business. but he didn't count that he would fall for the daughter. what a clash of interests."

he doesn't deny it. and it only infuriates you more. so he did have an evil plan after all.

"you came for me, didn't you?" your father presses further, raising his revolver.

"no, i didn't." yunho replies, face changing from a guilty and sorry one to a neutral. "i came for her."

he grabs you by your shoulders, putting his hand over your mouth. you toss, scream, and whatnot, but what are you compared to his grip?

"i assume you won't care much if i took her away. but it would mean much to me. tit for tat."

"you are to never step foot into this town again. not you, not your companions."

yunho nods. and your father puts his weapon away. and it crashes your heart. you know you don't mean much to him, but to give you to an outlaw so easily?

"i came for what i wanted, not to worry. you won't see me ever again."

and just like that, you find yourself tied up and tossed over the black mare.

why did you ever wish for a life other than the one you had?

"you're all mine now, sunshine."

feedback greatly appreciated! <3

[angeliteria]

𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

pairings — catholic!fem reader and eddie munson

summary — you're a good catholic girl. always have been — even though you're dating eddie munson, who's the complete opposite of that. he's crude and vulgar, and his influence may just taint you entirely.

warnings tags — adult language. mentions of religion, talks of god. eddie hates god, but has a god kink. major blasphemy. reader has daddy issues. mentions of jason craver (ew i know). graphic details of smut: loss of virginity (virgin!reader) + corruption. oral (eddie receiving). f!ngering. slight degrading but more praise. wrong usage of a rosary.

Eddie Munson was merely the Devil in your parents eyes.

To you, he was the seventh heaven.

Crossing paths with him was not a mistake, but a blessing. Eddie took care of you, and loved you. He really loved you.

You met him through a friend who went to Hawkins with him, and you couldn’t perceive him as a bad boy, whatsoever. He was genuine and kind the second you and him met, asking questions about you that no other guy ever had done.

But you knew he was not the guy you could bring home to your parents. Your parents were aware of him, since your father was a Sheriff for the Hawkins department, and always got reports of him.

You couldn’t tell them about your infatuation for Eddie, and how your heart burned for him, belonged to him. You were more faithful to Eddie Munson than you were to your Catholicism, and for you to say that to your parents, would earn you a kick to church camp.

You couldn’t say that their sweet little girl was in love with Hawkins’ freak; that he had told her many ways he wanted to deprive her of innocence and purity; that he dreamed of her worshiping him under her cross.

And you dreamed of that, every Sunday, for the past many month.

You sat in between your father and mother as the Priest read from the bible, and you fiddled with the ending hem of your white, babydoll dress. You stared mindfully at the cross, your head drawing the image of Eddie taking your virginity, rupturing your virtue, right underneath it.

You did feel a bit of guilt when you thought such lewd things, and you did blame Eddie for it. You felt even worse thinking of them in church, where you were supposed to be devoting your love and soul to the Lord, not a wild man.

“Hebrews 13:4 says, ‘Marriage is to be held in honor among all, and the marriage bed is to be undefiled; for fornicators and adulterers God will judge’”, the Priest spoke confidently, eyes glancing up to everyone for a second.

You swallowed thickly, fingers gripping tightly on your dress.

What the fuck, Jesus, you thought to yourself. I’m a fucking eighteen year old, of course I want to fornicate!

“Sweet dear,” your mother whispered, and you looked at her. “You look unwell. Are you okay?”

“Do you mind if I take a moment outside?” You wondered, brows drawing upwards. “It feels stuffy. Just for a minute, please.”

She sighed heavily, shaking her head. “Very well, then. Be quiet, dear.”

You thanked her, standing up, and quickly — but quietly — dismissed yourself out of the building, pushing open the wooden doors. The second you were outside, you groaned, the doors swinging close behind you.

“I’m damned for Hell,” you mumbled, rubbing your temple in frustration.

“So am I,” you heard a voice come from the side of you. You spin your head, finding Eddie there, smoking a cigarette. “For smoking of the Lord’s sacred grounds.”

“Eddie,” you sighed in relief, walking up to him, and he brought you into his embrace. He kissed the side of your head, before pulling back. “What are you doing here? If my parents — or anyone — sees you, they will make a fret out of it!”

Eddie chuckled. “Is that so?”

“I’m serious, Eds,” you frowned, throwing a small, playful slap to his shoulder. “We don’t need a scene.”

“Ah, I know, angel,” he cooed, kissing your forehead for assurance. “I just needed to see you. Was wondering what you are doing tonight?”

“I have homework, and finish my project on the Betrayal of Judas tonight,” you explained, annoyed at the mere thought of it. “It’s going to take all night. Why do you ask?”

“I wanted you to come by my trailer tonight,” Eddie said, and you smiled, but upset you had to decline his suggestion. “But it’s okay. I’m going to pick you up after school tomorrow, okay?”

“If Sister Josie sees you, she will report you to my parents,” you warned, and he only barked a laugh, throwing his head back. “I do not want to be sent to a camp because I was caught with you, Eds.”

“If your parents did that, I’d kidnap you,” Eddie stated, and you rolled your eyes, shooting a look at the church’s doors, eyes retreating back into his shortly after. “Go on in, sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow, and we can do something fun.”

You raised a brow. “Like what?”

“Anything you wanted,” Eddie promised, giving your chin a soft pinch. “Be good for me, yeah?”

You hummed, and nodded. “Bye, Eds,” you gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he watched you walk all the way back into the church.

You hurried back to your row, perching yourself back in between your parents.

“Feel better?” Your mother asked.

You inhaled sharply. “Much better.”

Your fork poked at the vegetables that sat on your dinner plate, your eyes boring into it. It was always quiet on Sunday dinners, and you never said anything, unless your parents did.

Your mother poured herself another glass of red wine, and your father glanced at you, then his wife. “Got another report today about that Munson boy,” your father cracked the perfect quiet, and was visibly angered. “He’s been seen graffiting near Lovers Lake.”

“And who is reporting that?” Your mother questioned, sipping her beverage.

“Probably that ass kisser, Jason,” you mumbled, and your father slammed his hands down on the table.

“LANGUAGE!” Your father bellowed, and you dropped your fork onto your plate, slouching back into your chair. “Jason is a good boy. A good son of the Lord, and that’s the kind of guy you need in your life.”

“Jason literally tried to kiss me at the eighth grade school dance,” you recalled, scoffing. “Without my consent, may I add!”

“Well you two were children then,” your mother said, and you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s a lovely boy. His friends are lovely too!”

You purse your lips. “His friends are dumb fucks.”

Okay, so maybe Eddie really did have a bad influence on you. Because you would never — for the love of God — curse in front of your parents, until now.

“What’s with the mouth?” Your father asked, and you glared at him. “You ought to pray tonight to the Lord tonight.”

“I’m just growing up, daddy,” you mocked, standing up from the dinner table, and threw your napkin on top of your plate. You stormed out of the dining room, straight into your bedroom, slamming your bedroom door behind you.

You dropped your body onto your bed, stuffing your face into your pillow. You wanted to scream and kick every object in your room, but refused not to do such a thing.

You were fine with laying on your bed, and smothering yourself with a pillow, until you heard gentle knocks at your window. You jolted up, your head craning toward the sound, and peeked at the window.

And you found Eddie, standing right outside your window.

You cursed under your breath, and stalked over to your window, snapping it open. Eddie smiled at the sight of you, though he could tell you were mystified by his unnoticed appearance.

“Do you want to kidnap me that badly?” You wondered, and he chuckled breathily, shrugging. “You can’t be here right now. My dad and I got into this fight.”

“About me, I suppose?” Eddie asked, allowing himself to jump into and through your bedroom window, and you didn’t stop him. “I know how your daddy likes to talk about me.”

“He said I should be with Jason, or someone like him,” you said, and he closed your bedroom window. “Because he is a son of the Lord.”

“Or the fucking Devil,” Eddie joked, and you snickered, but agreed. “I wonder what your dad would think if he knew you were with me, hm?”

“He would take his shotgun to you,” you admitted, and Eddie took a look around your bedroom. “Anyway, you can stay for a bit, but my father demands I pray for cursing.”

“Their little girl suddenly has a mouth of dirt?” Eddie teased, and you slapped his arm, which he laughed at. “Have I finally corrupted their innocent daughter?”

“Shut it, Munson,” you snapped, and he leaned against your desk, his eyes casting down at your Bible that sat on top of it.

“How about you pray right now? I won’t say a thing,” Eddie suggested, and you raised a brow, tilting your head. “You need to get it over with, anyway. You won’t even know I’m here.”

“You want to watch me pray?” You asked.

“It’d be nice, ya’know?” Eddie grinned, and he could tell you were completely gullible to what he was getting at. “Maybe I could learn a thing or two.”

You considered it, and simply agreed, walking up next to him. You grabbed your bible, and opened it up as you made your way over to your bed, kneeling at the end of it. Your knees brushed against your carpet-like flooring, looking up at your cross.

“Wait, Eds,” you paused, and he was already giving you your pink rosary. You thanked him, wrapping it around your fingers, and held it tightly in your hand.

Your cross hung right above your bed, right in the middle of your room, and your attention diverted from him, to the Bible.

Eddie simply watched and witnessed you speak and pray, and he felt sick for getting aroused to this pure sight of you, pleading for forgiveness from a man who supposedly ruled the Earth. He wanted to touch you, for his hands to memorize and caress every curve of your body.

His eyes unpeeled that baby pink tank top you wore, then went to your white, soft sweatpants. He wondered how it’d be like for you to plead and worship him in front of the Lord as he made you call him your God.

Maybe that was an awful, crude dream to play in his head, but he wanted to have your devotion turn to him, not the Lord.

The Lord couldn’t love and care for you the way he did.

Eddie went over to your bedroom door, and locked it, seeing how focused you were on the pages of pure fiction.

He kneeled behind you, and wrapped an arm around your torso, your body shuddering. He brought you closer to him, planting an innocent kiss on your shoulder.

“Eddie, I’m praying,” you pouted, setting your Bible down for a moment. “You said you wouldn’t disrupt.”

“Just keep going, love,” he mumbled, his tip of his nose brushing against your skin. “Keep praying.”

You rolled your eyes and did so, continuing to recite every word from the pages.

Eddie’s lips made their way to the nape of your neck, getting the sweet scent of your perfume. “What a good girl,” he whispered, his hot breath sending a symphony of shivers along your body. “Doing anything to stay pure and good.”

You nearly faltered, your concentration weakening. His hand trailed to your stomach, resting on your abdomen.

Eddie had touched you before, but not fully — not under your clothes. He even afforded to show you how to touch yourself, but Sister Tina from your school said you’d be banished to Hell for such a thing; so that set enough fear in.

Now, you craved for him to touch him. You didn’t know why in this particular moment — out of every heated, lusting moment — you wanted to feel him, to take you apart, and taint every part of your body, and brain.

You began to stutter as you spoke, Eddie’s hand crawling under your sweatpants, grazing over your clothed area. “Do you think the Lord wants me to touch you?” He taunted, and you hummed, your hands grasping harshly onto both sides of the Bible. “What do you think?”

“Eddie,” you managed to breathe out. “Eddie.”

“I want him to watch me take his devoted angel,” Eddie continued, his fingers creeping into your underwear, and your body flinched the second his fingers pressed against your bud. “Show him that he is no protector.”

You nodded, and Eddie grinned, resting his chin onto your shoulder.

You wanted Eddie. You needed Eddie.

“Keep reading, or I’ll stop,” Eddie warned, and you couldn’t hold onto a single thought as his middle finger curled into your unripe cunt. You moaned, squeezing your eyelids shut to the feeling of it. It was a single fucking finger in you, and you felt like pure bliss.

Eddie continued to pump the individual finger in you, slowly and surely as you tried to read more.

Everything was going smoothly, until a knock hit against your bedroom door.

Your father barked your name, you and Eddie freezing up. “Honey, why is your door locked?” Your father asked, shaking the doorknob. “Are you okay?”

Eddie smirked, his ring finger joining his middle, both pumping into a picked up pace.

“I–I’m praying!” You announced, trying to hold back your noises. “I wanted to pray in privacy, talk to the Lord!”

“Oh,” your father spoke from the other side of the door. “I’m glad to hear that, sweetie. I just wanted to say, you know I’m just looking out for you, right?”

Eddie’s fingers struck an unknown, but euphoric, spot in you, and you choked down a loud moan. “Yeah, daddy! I know that,” you responded, throwing your head back onto Eddie’s shoulder, and the Bible collapsed to the side of you.

Eddie chuckled quietly, using his free hand to wrap onto your throat. “What a filthy girl,” he whispered into your ear, grasping onto your neck.

“There’s bad guys out there, like Eddie Munson,” your father said, and Eddie wanted to bark a laugh. “If you were to be with a boy like that, I’d lose it. Boys only want one thing, and you know that.”

Another noise was lodged in your throat, Eddie having to squeeze your throat as a warning.

“I know, I know! Now, can I continue praying, please?” You asked, and Eddie’s finger shoved into you faster, and harder.

“Yes, of course! Your mother and I are heading to the Martins for a bit,” he acknowledged, and you had to slam your own hand over your mouth. “We should be back no later than 11. Be good!”

You kept your hand over your mouth until you heard the front door slam shut, and the second they did, you freed all your noises. Your chest heaved, your body becoming pudding against Eddie’s.

A hot sensation hit your stomach, and you found pleasure in it. It was an unfamiliar, enjoyable feeling. Your thighs trembled, and Eddie took a quick note to it, noticing how you were barely adjusting to this. “Are you going to cum?” Eddie asked, and you looked at him with confusion.

“Cum?” You repeated.

“Does it feel like your stomach is on fire?” Eddie asked, his fingers making themselves deeper into your core, and you nodded. “That means you’re at your climax, love. That you are going to cum. It’s very normal.”

You still had a lot to learn, and Eddie was glad enough to teach you it all.

“Just let it go, sweetheart. Let it be free,” he cooed, and you hummed, your body convulsing the second your climax poured out of you, nearly dropping to the floor. He kept you up and close to him, and you panted, swallowing thickly.

Eddie’s fingers disappeared out of you, removing his hand completely from you. He placed his two fingers in his mouth, getting the sweet taste of you, and nearly moaned. “You taste fucking divine.”

You blushed, and eyed your Bible, picking it up. “I think I got enough forgiveness,” you joked, and Eddie hummed, helping you stand up with him. “I just…”

“Hm?” Eddie wondered, taking the Bible from you, and rested it on your desk. “What is it, sweet girl?”

“I want,” your voice quavered, your head hanging low in embarrassment. “I want more.”

Eddie placed his finger under your chin, bringing your head up to look him directly in the eye. “You want more? You have to be more specific, love,” Eddie mused, and you whimpered. “Use your words, please.”

“I want you to touch me more,” you only knew how to say it like that. Just paraphrase it in that way. “I want you to fuck me?”

“Is that a question or statement?” Eddie jested, and you whined more, embarrassed. “I’m kidding, sweet girl. I know what you mean, but are you sure?”

You nodded, smiling in confidence.

Eddie tugged you closer to his body, his lips smothering yours, and his hands laid on your hips, squeezing them gently. Your arms looped around his neck, holding him close to you, your body aching for him.

He led you over to your bed, sitting down onto it as you straddled his lap. Your hands cupped his cheeks, your rosary brushing against his skin, and you could feel him smile on your lips.

His lips fell off of yours, and he stripped off his upper half clothing, dropping them to your floor. Your eyes widened to the view of his body, his abs perfectly toned, and your finger drew around the tattoos he had on the left side of his chest.

“I like this tattoo,” you giggled at the Demon and spider tattoos, and he smiled, kissing the side of your head. “But I will always like your puppetmaster tattoo a lot more.”

“Gotta get you a tattoo one day,” Eddie said, and you shook your head. “Get you a pretty tattoo, just like mine, yeah?”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, and he hummed, his fingers hooking under your shirt. You let him take it off of you, undoing your bra by yourself. You hesitantly shimmed off your bra, the straps sliding down your arms, and onto your lap.

You put it on the ground with the other clothes, and you didn’t stare at Eddie as his eyes gawked at your breasts. You were insecure and worried – he was the first guy to ever see your bare body.

Panic slowly rolled in. “Is it okay? Am I okay?”

“Baby,” Eddie breathed, looking up at you, and then at your breasts. “You are so beautiful. This body, all mine to touch and mark.”

Your worries washed away, Eddie planting loving kisses on your breasts.

“Your body is fucking gorgeous,” he whispered, captivated and enthralled by your gracious beauty. “All fucking mine.” He carefully laid you on your back, on the bed, and hovered over you, his lips falling back onto yours. His body rutted against yours, hands at the waistband of your sweatpants,

“Take them off, Eds,” you breathed into the kiss, and his taste was gone for a moment as he listened, stripping off your sweatpants. You were left in your white cotton panties, and he took a second to unbuckle his belt, and then his pants, both landing on the ground.

You and Eddie were only left in your underwear, and you could feel a hard bulge brush against your inner thigh.

Oh, you thought to yourself. That.

“Are you sure you’re ready, doll?” Eddie asked, and you looked at him with assuring, doe eyes, and he kissed your forehead. He reached over to his pants, grabbing his wallet from it, and pulled out a small wrapper from it.

You shivered, and your eyes bored into Eddie as he took off his boxers, and you tensed the second you glimpsed at his cock.

You were about to pray to God again, due to the overwhelmingly huge size of Eddie.

Eddie opened up the wrapper, taking out the condom, and slipped it on. You took off your panties and kicked them off, throwing your rosary too, seeing how they joined all other clothing items on the floor.

“It’s going to hurt at first; if you want me to stop, just say so,” Eddie said, and one of his hands held onto yours for comfort as his other was used to guide him into you. You could feel the head of him at your cunt, and you squeezed his hand whilst his cock made its way into you, slowly and bit by bit.

Your back arched, gasping aloud to the feeling of him fulfilling you. Eddie’s hand grasped onto your jaw, holding onto it, forcing you to hold eye contact with him. “Just take me, love,” he mused, and you whimpered in response.

You were being easily stretched and torn apart by his cock, your virtue draining out of you with every brush of him coming in and out of you. You continued to hold onto his hand, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand for assurance you were safe.

Eddie kept a steady, delicate pace, taking a clear eye to how you were already in shambles. He was simply dispossessing you of your longing purity, your body and devotion belonging to him now.

This was Seventh Heaven to you — this was all of the joy and exhilaration you longed for.

Your cunt adjusted to his size, and your hand let go of him, setting both of them onto his shoulders. “More, Eddie. Please,” you pleaded, and he began to drill himself deeper into you, his hands pressing onto your stomach for support.

You squealed, his eyes on the way his cock thrusted into you. Your body elevated upwards, and your glossy eyes caught a glance of the cross above your bed.

If this corruption was so cruel, so vile, why did it feel so fucking amazing?

Flares of euphoria spurred throughout your body as wanton, lewd noises elicited out of your mouth, and filled your bedroom. Embers of pure, raw desire were in Eddie’s eyes the second they fell back into yours, his breath shuddering his rib cages.

A firestorm grew in your stomach, and your nails dug into Eddie’s shoulder, earning a harsh moan out of him. “‘M gonna cum,” you told him, your chest falling up and down rapidly. “I need to cum, Eds.”

“What a sensitive whore you are,” he taunted, and you groaned, the fire spreading into your thighs. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum for your God.”

Your lids sealed shut as your climax peaked and rushed out of you, your body moving with a hard jolt to it. Eddie nearly laughed mockingly at you, your delicate, unripe body, now sweating and shaking from sinful sex.

You barely had collected the fact Eddie referred to him as your God, but you didn’t hate it.

You liked it.

“I’m going to fuck your pretty mouth,” Eddie said, and helped you sit up as he took off the condom. “I always told you I’d find a way for you to worship me. Get on your knees, angel.”

Eddie tossed his condom into your trash bin, turning his attention back onto you.

You obeyed, and stumbled to your bedroom floor, collapsing down onto your knees. Eddie seized your rosary, and took the opportunity to tie up your wrists with the symbolized jewelry. You whined, tugging at your hostaged wrists.

“Open your mouth for me,” Eddie said, standing in front of you. Your mouth popped open, and he shoved two fingers into your mouth, creeping them to the back of your throat. You gagged the second his fingers hit your throat, your eyes watering.

You stared up at him with pure and pious eyes, that were almost daunting, too.

“How are you going to be able to take my cock, when you can barely take my fingers, angel?” He asked, and a tear trickled down your cheek. He was amused by this single tear. “You worship me?”

You nodded as his fingers left your mouth, his knuckles brushing along your cheek. “Yes, I worship you. Only you,” you assured, giving the edge of his palm a delicate, small kiss. “You’re my religion.”

He chuckled. “Such a good little thing you are.”

Eddie’s fingers curled into your hair, nails scratching against your scalp. His hips pushed forward, his cock stuffing your opened mouth.

You remembered your friend told you about blowjobs — that you make sure your teeth don’t touch, or it makes it unpleasant. Your friend wasn’t as faithful or pure as you were, only going to Catechism to please her parents.

Eddie’s cock continuously hit the back of your throat, drawing inchorenet gargles from you as tears lined at the brim of your eyes. Your throat was brutalized, yet you soaked into the pain of it, taking pleasure in every second of it.

Your eyes rolled back the deeper his cock went, his teeth gritting together, and moaned your name like a mantra.

Eddie’s head fell back, his hips snapping into your face, and you gurgled, trying your best to breathe out of your nostrils. “Shit, shit, I’m close,” he told you, and that was the only warning you were given, nothing else. “Keep your mouth steady and open for your God, baby.”

His climax flooded into your mouth, your tongue getting a salty taste of his high, and he pushed his cock out of your mouth. He tried to catch his breath, sweat beading at his forehead and body, his fingers unhooking from your hair.

“Let me see, doll,” Eddie said, and you happily showed him the way his cum sat on your tongue. “Mhm, that’s a good girl. Swallow it.”

You closed your mouth, taking it all down at once, and he kissed the top of your head. He unknotted the rosary, and your wrists were glad to be free.

Eddie sat the jewelry on your bed stand, and helped you up, sitting you down on your bed afterwards. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” He panicked, and you shook your head, a few strands of your hair matted to your teary, sweating cheeks.

“Did I do okay?” You asked, and he frowned, cupping your cheeks, caressing them lovingly with his thumbs.

“You were wonderful, sweet girl. So good,” he reassured, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and dressed. You still have that project.”

You groaned, barely remembering it. “Oh fuck!”

[w2soneshots]

harry smau or one shot or anyyythiinggg

i don’t know if you’ve written anything similar to this so i’m sorry if you have )’:

you and harry are going through a rough patch while he’s become super busy with filming across europe & you’ve been stuck at home

Miles apart -W2S

words: 0.9k+

warnings: angst, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of loneliness.

summary: while Harry’s away for a sidemen video -once again- you find something out that will change your lives forever, but with how busy he’s been you worry about how much he will be there for you.

notes: hi! Angst is genuinely one of my favourite things to write… there’s just something about it🙈. Also added some spice (a whole ass baby) to add to the angstyness, tehehe. Anyways, enjoy lovely and thank you for requesting!!💝🫶🏼

Liked by wroetoshaw, tobjizzle and others

y/username: home💐🛁✨

-comments-

calfreezy: sandwich looks delish, bog is a lucky man

-> y/username: haha it was unbelievably good

taliamar: obsessed with you💓

-> y/username: I'm flattered T🤭

y/nfanpage21: cutie!!🫶

user: where's Harry?🤨

-> user: he's away for a sidemen Sunday

A few days ago your boyfriend, Harry, left on a trip for a new video that the boys are filming. Lately he's been gone what seems like a lot, for days at a time or on a shoot from early morning to late at night, meaning by the time he gets home you're already fast asleep.

"Hi, how was filming?" You asked Harry on facetime, while he sat in his hotel room. "Pretty shit to be honest. Boring," he replied before yawning. You signed then spoke again after a moment, "you look tired. I'll let you sleep." "Alright, love you," he smiled softly into the camera. "Love you, sweet dreams."

You put the phone down and got comfortable in your bed, since you felt unusually tired you fell straight asleep, completely unaware that the next day your whole world would change forever and Harry wasn't going to be there.

"I'm fucked," you whispered as you stared at the positive pregnancy test in your hands, the obvious pink lines glaring at you. You weren't sure how to react, meaning you just stood there contemplating your life choices.

You and Harry had only been together for two and a half years, which felt like absolutely no time at all. You'd spoken briefly about kids but it definitely wasn't something you were planning in the near future, but now it was happening and honestly, you were concerned he wasn't going to react well.

"What am I going to do?" You asked yourself quietly as you sat down abruptly on the toilet seat. Then the tears started to flow and they didn't stop until your phone rang, breaking the rush of thoughts whirling around your mind.

Quickly, you got up, wiped your tears on your -Harry's- jumper sleeve and reached for your phone. Harry... fuck, act natural.

"Hi," your voice was slightly horse as you answered, thankfully it wasn't a video call. "Hello darling, you okay?" He asked cheerfully. "Mhm, you?" He paused for a moment before speaking again, "sure you're alright? You sound a little... weird."

You took a deep breath and tried to control yourself. "I'm fine, just woke up from a nap," you lied. "Okay... call me if you need anything. I'll be home tomorrow, around eight o'clock," He told you, leading you to feel a mix of relief and worry at telling him about your predicament.

The next day you woke to the same feeling you did the morning prior, nausea. The sickness you felt was what made you go and buy a test in the first place, along with the fact your period was late.

You spent the day going over how on earth you were going to tell Harry that your going to have a whole ass baby, that you'll be fully responsible for and will have to keep healthy and happy for eighteen years... jeez.

You'd felt like shit all day so by the time your boyfriend finally arrived home you were exhausted. You were sat on the couch when he came in. As usual, he immediately dropped his bags and all of his focus turned to you.

"Hey-" "Harry," you stood and interrupted him, you needed to just get it out, "I'm... pregnant." He turned pale and his mouth dropped open. "You're- I- what?" He stumbled on his words, his hand moving up to rub the back of his neck.

You both sat down on the couch and remained in complete silence for a good ten minutes, while Harry processed the news. Anxiously, you twiddled your thumbs while you awaited his response.

"When did you find out?" He eventually asked, breaking the silence and slightly startling you. You cleared your throat. "Yesterday. Yesterday morning," you answered, the both of you still looking ahead at the empty, black tv screen.

"So you've had time to think?" "I guess so... I mean, all I've really been thinking about is how you were gonna react and that you've been so busy- I don't want to be alone," you said quietly before finally looking at him, the tears in your waterline threatening to spill.

In an instant he moved closer to you and wrapped his arms around your body. Relief filled your senses as you felt slightly reassured by his actions. "I've always wanted a family with you... maybe not so soon but we'll figure it out. I know you're gonna be an amazing mum y/n and hopefully I'll be half decent, but I'll always be there," he whispered into your hair.

You smiled as you let out a sob. "Soppy twat," you chocked out. He chuckled, the air in the room now considerably lighter. "So, in nine months we'll have a kid then yeah?" You cleared your throat and sat up. "Technically seven months, since I'm already eight weeks." "Even better."

Two months later...

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[queenshelby]

Uncle Tommy (Part One)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Niece Reader

Warning: Smut, Incest, Taboo Relations, DDLG, Dub-Con

And yes, this was a request! Please comment and engage!

It was during the month of August that you moved back to Birmingham after having spent almost twelve years travelling with your mother Esma after your father died and whilst your mother disliked the idea, you were eighteen now and to put it bluntly, you were no longer a child and had to make your own decisions.

Your mother had met and married another man a few years ago, and you had no desire to be a burden on their newfound happiness so, when your Aunt Polly suggested for you to move in with either her or your Uncle Tommy, you were grateful for the opportunity.

Your Uncle Tommy had horses and you had always loved the idea of working with them, so it was an easy decision to move in with him. Your Uncle Tommy had a new wife. She was his third wife and whilst you thought that living with a man like him and his newfound love would be slightly awkward, you settled in easily. 

After a few days, you began to feel more comfortable in your new surroundings, enjoying your work with the horses and even though you had not seen your Uncle Tommy for over 12 years beforehand, he seemed genuinely happy to see you.

You came across as bright, intelligent and respectful and found yourself in your uncle's office quite often, helping him with paperwork and other business-related tasks. However, there was something peculiar about your Uncle Tommy. Something that made you feel slightly uncomfortable but also somewhat exited when he was around, although you couldn't quite put your finger on what it was.

He was a mid-forty-year-old attractive man with a commanding presence, handsome, with piercing blue eyes and jet-black hair. You never remembered him like this from your childhood. Now he seemed to have acquired a distinguished elegance - a byproduct, perhaps, of his wealth and power.

It wasn’t just his looks, but also the way he carried himself. Confident, commanding, yet respectful. He treated you like an adult and didn’t hesitate to give you the responsibility you craved.

But then, occasionally, you felt as though he made some advances towards you which you were not sure whether or not you should reciprocate. He was your uncle after all. He was a married man, and you were in a relationship with a good young man who happened to be working in your uncle's factory. 

On occasion, your uncle would put a stray hand on your waist, his fingers lightly tracing your curves as he leaned in close to whisper something mundane, his warm breath tickling your ear in a way that made you shiver.

You would quicken your pace, eager to escape the alluring pull of his nearness and return to the comfort of your own room. However, sometimes, you got lost in the moment, in his mesmerizing blue eyes that seemed to see straight through you.

One evening, after a particularly long day of work with the horses, you found him in the study.

He was sitting behind his desk, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a pen in the other. His eyes were focused on some documents in front of him, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.

"Uncle Tommy," you said softly, not wanting to disturb him.

He looked up, his gaze softening as he took in your appearance. You were wearing a simple dress that hugged your curves and showed off your legs. Your hair was loose around your shoulders, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks under his gaze.

"Come in, Love," he said, gesturing to the empty chair in front of his desk. "What can I do for you?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"I just wanted to talk to you about something," you said finally. "It's about James, the young man I am seeing," you told him, causing him to furrow his eyebrows.

"What about him?" your uncle asked , setting his glass aside and giving you his full attention. There was a hint of something in his tone that you couldn't quite place, but it made you feel slightly uneasy.

"Well," you began, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. "I just wanted to let you know that we're getting serious. I think we might even get engaged soon which means that, maybe, I would be moving in with him."

Your uncle's expression didn't change, but you saw a flicker of something in his eyes that made you feel uncomfortable.

"Love, you are fucking 18 years old, " he said, his voice low and controlled. "You should not be making decisions like that yet," he said honestly as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin as he looked at you thoughtfully.

"I respect your feelings for this young man," he said finally. "But I urge you to be careful, eh? Don't be a fool. You are a fucking Shelby and you  do not commit yourself to just anybody," your uncle said and you sat there in silence for a moment, digesting his words. You knew he was right, of course. You were young and had a whole life ahead of you. You should not make any rash decisions, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

"I understand Uncle Tommy, but I really love him,"  you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your uncle chuckled in response before leaning over the desk and caressing your cheek.  His touch was gentle, but the heat of it sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and danger at the same time.

"You are a beautiful young woman Y/N, " your uncle said, his voice dripping with suggestion. "And you deserve much better than a factory worker like him who seems to have no fucking aspirations to become anything more, eh," he added, his fingers tracing your jawline.

His fingers lingered longer than necessary, and you felt a strange heat spreading through your body. You knew you should pull away, but you couldn't bring yourself to move. Instead, you felt yourself leaning into his touch, your heart racing as your mind filled with forbidden thoughts just before his wife walked into the study.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt," she said as she entered the room, her eyes flickering between you and your uncle.

Your uncle quickly withdrew his hand, his face becoming impassive as he greeted his wife with a warm smile.

"No, it's alright, love. Y/N and I were just having a discussion about her future," he said, his voice betraying no emotion.

You quickly stood up, eager to escape the tension in the room, but you took what your uncle had said to heart. You knew that he was right and, over the next few weeks, the relationship between you and James became strained.

A few weeks later...

It was around 10 o'clock when you heard a knock on the door of your bedroom. You were sitting on your bed, reading a book and trying to clear your mind. 

"Come in," you called out, setting your book aside and straightening your posture as the door opened and your uncle stepped inside.

He looked striking as ever, his hair perfectly styled and his suit tailored to perfection. His eyes scanned over you in a way that made you feel both excited and slightly uneasy.

"Uncle Tommy, what are you doing here?" you asked as he entered your bedroom, closing the door behind him, before sitting down by your side.

"I just came to check on you, Love," he said , eyes gleaming as he looked at your young and naive figure. "To see if you were doing alright," he continued, running his fingers ran through your hair. "Frances told me that you have been having some problems with this boy you were seeing," he then admitted  , with a hint of concern in his voice.

You couldn't help but feel grateful for the attention, and somehow, comforted. You thus sat up next to him, wearing nothing but your satin nightgown, confiding about what happened between you and James.

"We had a little argument because he wants things that I am not ready for, you know. So, I have distanced myself a little from him for now and it's really making me sad," you answered honestly, and your uncle nodded before resting his hand on your bare thigh. 

Your uncle's touch sent a jolt of pleasure throughout your body, his skin was warm and rough, you leaned in slightly towards him, letting out a soft sigh.

"Well, I told you before Love, you deserve better than a boy like James fucking McFallon, eh," your uncle said with a gentle voice, running his fingers up your thigh, causing you to shiver.

"Now, tell me though Sweetheart, he didn't make you do anything you didn't want to do, did he? Because if he has, then I will need to deal with him,"  Thomas said, his voice a low growl.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and safety in your uncle's presence. You knew that he would always be there for you and protect you from anything that could harm you.

"No, he didn't. I just didn't want to take the next step with him yet," you said softly, looking up at your uncle.

His fingers were still tracing their way up your thigh, sending tingles throughout your body.

"And he hasn't touched you in any placed you didn't want to be touched, has he?"  Thomas asked, looking into your eyes with that piercing blue gaze.

"What do you mean by that?" you asked, in your rather naive mind, causing your uncle to chuckle.

"I mean, he hasn't touched you down here without your consent , has he?" Thomas clarified, his hand vaguely brushing over your clothed sex.

You felt a sudden heat rising to your cheeks as your uncle's words finally sunk in.

"No, he hasn't. I wouldn't allow it," you said, but your voice wavered slightly, giving away your uncertainty as your uncle's eyes gleamed as he nodded his head, pleased with your answer.

"Good, because if he had touched you right there without your consent, then would have had no choice but to fucking cut him, eh?"  Thomas said, as he gently caressed your cheek with one hand while rubbing his fingers over your panties with the other, before pulling the fabric to the side. 

You froze almost immediately , tensing up as you tried to comprehend what your uncle was doing.

"Uncle Tommy, you shouldn't touch me down there, I think," you stammered while, at the same time, inadvertently spreading your legs.

"You are right Love, I probably shouldn't. But doesn't it feel nice when I touch you there?" Thomas whispered as you rubbed his thumb over your clit, creating a strange wetness between your folds.

"It feels really weird, Uncle Tommy," you moaned as your uncle started to move his thumb in a circular motion, building up a strange and unfamiliar ache in your lower belly.

"Do you want me to stop?" Thomas asked, his voice husky and full of desire as he slowed down his movements, waiting for your answer.

"No, don't stop," you panted , your body coming alive under his touch.

Thomas smiled and resumed his previous pace while feeling himself grow hard beneath the confides of his pants.

"Do you think I could have a closer look at your treasure, Sweetheart? I would love to see that beautiful little hole of yours now, because it is getting so nice and wet for me,"  your uncle whispered in your ear while slipping his fingers under the waistband of your panties.

"Uncle Tommy, I don't know if that's a good idea," you said, gasping slightly as you felt your uncle's fingers touch your intimate areas.

"I promise, Love, I will make you feel really nice down there," Thomas reassured you, sliding his index finger over your wet folds. 

"Okay , but just this once," you agreed, reluctantly but with a hint of curiosity in your voice.

"Good girl. Why don't you lie down for me , Love?" Thomas suggested, removing his index finger from your wetness and giving you a soft pat on your bottom, encouraging you to lie back down on the bed.

You didn't resist and followed your uncle's instructions, biting your lip as he slipped off your panties, leaving you bare before him.

Thomas couldn't help but admire the sight of your body laid out before him. Your legs were slightly parted, giving him a glimpse of your beautiful, wet sex. Without warning, he then spread your labia open with his fingers, exposing your clit and inner folds.

"Such a beautiful sight, eh" Thomas whispered while gently tracing your folds with his index finger, causing you to shiver at the touch.

"You are simply stunning, Love," Thomas continued, awe in his voice as he leaned down to get a closer look.

"Have you ever put your fingers inside your little tressure box here?"  Thomas asked, his voice low and deep as he gently circled your clit with his thumb.

"No, I don't think I have," you replied, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves as your uncle asked you such a personal question.

"Would you like me to be the first one to do it?" Thomas asked, his eyes gleaming with desire.

"I-I don't know," you stammered, feeling yourself flush at the thought. "Is it going to hurt?" you asked, biting your lip as your uncle's fingers continued to explore your wet sex.

"Only for a moment, Sweetheart. But I promise, it will feel so good after that," Thomas reassured you, before slowly and gently running his index finger over your wet sex again. 

"Okay , let's try it," you agreed, feeling yourself getting more and more aroused by your uncle's actions and words.

Thomas couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as, very carefully, he pushed his index finger inside your tight sex, feeling your inner walls clench around it.

You couldn't help but gasp at the sensation, as your uncle's finger penetrated you for the first time. It felt strange and unfamiliar, but also incredibly pleasurable.

"How does it feel, Love?" Thomas asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"It feels...weird, but also kind of nice," you replied, finding it hard to put your feelings into words.

"Good, that's great Love," Thomas praised you, as a proud smile appeared on his face. "Now, I want you to relax and breathe deeply while I move my finger inside of you, okay?"

You nodded eagerly, taking deep breaths as your uncle slowly moved his finger in and out of your sex. It was an odd sensation, but also incredibly arousing.

You couldn't believe what was happening in this moment, but at the same time, you couldn't deny that it felt incredible. Thomas's fingers were now exploring every inch of your wet sex, causing you to moan and writhe in pleasure beneath him.

"You're so fucking tight, Love," Thomas groaned, as his finger moved deeper inside of you. "But I think I can get a second finger inside without breaking your barrier," he said tentatively  , looking deep into your eyes for consent.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing, but you also couldn't deny the arousal that was building up inside of you. You nodded your head in agreement, and Thomas slowly slid in a second finger, causing you to gasp at the feeling of being stretched.

"That's it, Sweetheart. Just relax and breathe," Thomas whispered softly in your ear, as he continued to move his fingers in and out of your wet sex.

The feeling was still strange and unfamiliar, but the pleasure that accompanied it quickly overshadowed any discomfort you might have felt earlier. Your breathing became heavier and more ragged as your uncle's fingers continued their slow, teasing movements.

Thomas could feel your body tensing up beneath his touch, so he leaned down to whisper in your ear once more, "You're doing great, Love. Just relax and let me make you feel good."

He moved his fingers slowly at first, allowing you to get used to the sensation of being penetrated in this way. He could feel your tight walls gripping his fingers, and he knew he had to be gentle.

"Oh God," you moaned, your head falling back as you felt your arousal build. "Something strange is happening," you admitted, as you could feel a pressure building up inside of you, along with a warmth spreading throughout your body.

"Explain it to me, Sweetheart. What do you feel?" Thomas asked again, his fingers still working their magic inside you.

"It feels good, but I feel like I am about to wet myself," you admitted, feeling a little embarrassed.

"That's good. This means you are close," your uncle said as he started to circle his thumb faster on your clit, pushing his fingers deeper inside of you at the same time.

"Let go, Sweetheart," Thomas coaxed you. "Don't hold back, just let it happen."

You listened to your uncle, allowing yourself to fully immerse in the sensations rippling through your body. His words were like a switch, releasing all remaining tension and inhibitions, sending you crashing over the edge in a dizzying wave of pure pleasure.

"That's it, Love. Let it all out," Thomas encouraged you with a gentle smile, as he watched you ride this new and exciting experience.

"Oh my god. Oh fuck," you moaned as your body trembled and shuddered, the pleasure radiating outwards from your core  , pooling in your belly and spreading through your limbs.

Your orgasm hit you hard and strong as you released your wetness all over your uncle's hands, leaving you panting and sweating. You squirted for several seconds, leaving the sheets soaked and you blushing with embarrassment.

"I-I didn't know that could happen," you stammered, your cheeks flushed red as you tried to regain your composure as Thomas carefully pulled his fingers out of you, resting his hand on your thigh, as he studied your expression. Your face was flushed bright red, and you looked utterly spent.

"How are you feeling, Love?" he asked softly, his voice thick with concern.

You blinked dazedly up at him and nodded slowly. "I...I'm okay, I think," you finally answered, your voice still trembling slightly as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Thomas smiled at you and leaned down to press a soft kiss on your forehead. "Good," he said simply before standing up, leaving your side for a moment.

You watched him through hooded eyes as he walked towards the en-suite bathroom, before returning with a warm washcloth to gently clean you up. His touch was tender, caring and you ought to ask whether you had indeed wet yourself , but you couldn't summon the words. He then threw the washcloth into a nearby hamper before reclaiming his prominent position on your bed.

"Don't be embarrassed, Love. That's completely natural," Thomas murmured softly as he traced the curve of your cheek with the pad of his thumb, smiling down at your amazed expression.

"I've just never... felt anything like that before," you admitted shyly, feeling just slightly overwhelmed by how strong your reaction had been.

"It wasn't bad, though. In fact, I think I might like it," you added, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you looked up at your uncle. "Do you think I could make you feel that good too?" you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked up at your uncle with wide eyes.

"I am sure you can, but not tonight, Love. Tonight was all about you," Thomas replied, his voice gentle and soothing. "There is no need to rush things, we have all the time in the world," he added affectionately, before pressing a soft kiss on your forehead once more.

"Now, why don't you have a rest and we can revisit this tomorrow if you like," Thomas suggested, as he tucked the blankets around you, tenderly tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You watched him as he turned off the lights and left your bedroom, before letting your heavy eyelids fall closed and slipping into a peaceful sleep.

T

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[fawnnlvr]

IMAGINE THIS spencer reid x academicrival!reader

summary: a timeline of spencer reid and his academic rival turned girlfriend in the span of a twelve years.

author's note: this layout is so different from my others but i am just going to keep it up. this is also inspired by the big bang theory and young sheldon and all the clips of it i watched on tiktok because i did not watch the show. that one scene with sheldon and that little blonde girl who is in every show and movie as a child prodigy. i hope you guys now what i am talking about but that inspired this entire thing. ♥︎

the two of you were born child prodigies with incredible minds that had the powers to rule the world.

spencer was used to being the youngest and the smartest until you showed up in his college classes being just a few months younger than him, yet sharing the same space he inhabited.

your joyful personality irked him to no ends as you treated education and learning like it was just a hobby while it was his life. he wasn't sure how it started but the two of you, at age thirteen, were competing to be the top of the class.

all the other college students simply gave up when it came to trying to outdo the two of you. the two of you were front row and center at every lecture due to the heights and late growth spurts.

unfortunately, the two of you were in many of the same classes despite being different majors. as the years flew by, the rivalry only grew stronger as the two of you competed by peer review when the professors grew tired of choosing favorites. who can write the best report paper to whose research was more useful, even to who had the best coffee order— everything under the sun was competition.

"i decided to get a doctorate" spencer told you one day and you almost dropped your papers, "just so everytime we meet, you will have to refer to me as doctor."

"no chance in hell reid. if you're doing that then so am i. suck it." you told him with a strong fire of determination in your eyes. the two of you were seventeen.

at age eighteen is when things took a turn. spencer had temporarily left to visit his mom in las vegas and get her help, and you unfortunately tagged along because you couldn't do airplanes but needed to get to vegas to visit your sister. meeting at the airport and unfortunately getting assigned seats right by each other, new perspectives were unlocked.

despite gaining an understanding for one another due to all the changes occurring, one thing that stayed constant was the rivalry. in a way, this one constant was a thing that saved the both of you.

you both knew that you were adults and it was childish, but you basically grew up with one another. he was there for you when you were harassed by college frat boys when you turned of age and you were there when he was ridiculed by the same frat boys for being a scrawny nerd.

there were many encounters were you only had each other to lean on and despite claiming to hate each other, you and him always showed up when needed. something that no one else can claim in their involvement in your lives.

now the two of you were there for each other as you each started another chapter of life.

"fbi?" you laughed, "there is no way you are passing the physical tests, spencer." the two of you were now twenty one and both went by doctor.

"h-hey! i can do it. the training will last for 16 weeks. i can improve by then." he puffed his chest out, straightening his posture.

"it will take a miracle or many exceptions, all of which you would need to be extraordinary to get."

"i am extraordinary. i quite literally have a doctorate in chemistry and working on another one — and i have a bachelor's in psychology. all at the age of twenty-one. i would like the see the fbi find someone better than me."

"you're forgetting that i exist." you reminded with a sly smile and you saw him freeze.

"i thought you're aiming for nasa!"

"i am but i might just have to apply for the fbi academy to prove just how much better than you i am." you shrugged and spencer felt even more determined.

"don't even joke about it. i have had to see you on this campus for the past nine years, i might loose my mind if i have to deal with you again for the rest of my life."

"how hurtful." you huffed, crossing your arms as you sipped on your overpriced coffee that you made spencer pay for. "i don't want to see you more than i have to as well." a bit ironic since you were on a small coffee get together with him.

"glad we can agree to something." he stated, taking a sip of his overpriced coffee as well.

"well since we are already at it. do you think we can agree that this meal definitely deserves a slice of that strawberry shortcake—"

at twenty two, it was finally time for the two of you to say goodbye. at least that is what you both thought. spencer was going to the fbi academy at quantico, virginia and you had suddenly gotten a job offer at the nasa headquarters in washington d.c, virginia.

"nineteen dollars for two coffees." he interupted and you closed your mouth. broke people should never talk, as that one saying went that spencer made up the last time he was forced to pay ridiculous priced food.

a dramatic goodbye, turned into a twisted fate of ill-fortune. your letter had came in the day spencer was to leave and a dramatic departure speech unsued for a good ten minutes full of the sweetest things spencer and you wanted to get off your chest before this was goodbye.

you opened the letter before he did his entire goodbye speech and you didn't feel like interrupting him. once you revealed the truth, spencer went all red and felt like fainting but instead had opted to grab his luggage and walk out the door and try to flag down a cab.

it was hard to stop yourself laughter after the small giggle slipped out due to how red he got and you had to chase him down your apartment building. he couldn't even look you in the eyes, averting his vision to the clouds above. taking your hand, you grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you.

"spencer, please don't be mad. that was honestly the sweetest thing you — actually anyone, in thst matter has said to me."

"no— it wasn't supposed to be like this. it was supposed to end—"

"i don't want it to end." you told him, honesty clear in your voice as he finally had the courage to look at you in the eye, "i like us— i mean this. what we have now is something i truly cherish and i don't want that to vanish. i don't want to be apart from you."

spencer furrowed his eyebrows.

"for too long i mean!" you quickly added in, "i mean gosh ew, nerd. you will have fbi money soon so that means it will be in my best interest to keep you around—"

you couldn't continue your tangent because he had pulled you into a hug. yes, the germaphobe spencer had pulled you into a hug. this was the first hug he ever initiated and it was the first time you had noticed simply how gentle his touch was as he held you in his arms. you wrapped your arms around his chest without a second thought.

then a sniffle. spencer sort of flinched back, trying to pull away but you clasped your hands behind his back, making it impossible. "are you... crying?"

another sniffle. "no." the croak in your voice gave it away, "allergies."

"you little liar. you totally will miss me and that's why your accepting the position in virginia and not california where your favorite actors are."

"shut up spencer."

"you'll see me in five months. it'll be fine and when i become an agent and i get my first pay check, we can go to that seafood place you really wanted to go but only has a few locations nationwide."

"they have it in virginia?"

"i already checked." he admitted and you raised your head from his shirt to look up at him, teary eyed but your eyes held a skeptical look. then, a smile.

"you were already planning for me to be there weren't you."

spencer pushed you off of him and he didn't respond.

"you know doctor reid, if i didn't know any better i would say that you are deeply in love with me."

"in your dreams. bye liar." spencer waved down a cab who pulled up within seconds.

"see you at the captial." you cheekily stated, hands clasped behind your back as you smiled at spencer getting into the cab.

"not looking forward to it."

"liar!"

he shut the door.

at twenty three, the two of you somehow ended up being roommates and sharing an apartment together. weighing the pros and cons, you both decided that this act would be very beneficial since the rent would be cheaper, the location was in between both of your guys' work places, and it would be more comfortable to live with a familiar presence.

at twenty four, a drunken night had led to drunken kisses. as the saying goes, "drunken words are sober thoughts". thoughts of consequences were thrown out the window as soon as the clothes were thrown on the floor. waking up, the two of you screamed in horror before having a talk about all the unresolved tension and words that needed to be said that one day the two of you were exchanging goodbye messages.

finally at twenty six, you went by mrs. reid.

[insomniac4000]

Bite Me

Chris Dixon SMUT ChrisMD/female reader.

Chris has a habit of biting his friends when drunk, one night it goes even further

Chris Dixon, known to millions as ChrisMD, had built his reputation opening FIFA packs before moving to football challenges and written and sometimes cheesy jokes. However, among his close circle of friends, he was known for something a little more bizarre: his habit of biting people when he’d had a few too many drinks, his fans were starting to see it more too as his videos started to feature alcohol more and more.

No one was entirely sure how it started. Some blamed a raucous night out in Ibiza. Others swore it was during one of the Sidemen charity matches when Chris, newly single for a few months and overtaken by adrenaline and too much post-match beer, had sunk his teeth into Harry Lewis’ broad shoulder. Whatever the origin, the biting had become a staple of Chris’s intoxicated antics, it was like it was now a meme of sorts but it real life. Every night out it happened and everyone would wait to see who the unlucky victim would be. It wasn’t an aggressive or malicious action from Chris, more like a spontaneous, drunken act of camaraderie. His friends had come to accept it as one of his peculiarities, though that didn’t mean they were entirely okay with it.

In particular George and Arthur Frederick were the ones who protested the most, George remembers the first time it happened to him. The group was gathered at George, Chris and Arthur’s flat for a casual evening. Pizza boxes were stacked on the counter, and the remnants of some games lay scattered across the living room. As the clock ticked toward midnight, Chris’s cheeks were flushed from laughter and a few cans of lager.

George had just finished recounting an embarrassing story about the time he fell into a fountain during a Tiktok he was recording roughly two years ago when Chris pounced.

“Mate, you’re such an idiot,” Chris said, staggering toward George with a grin.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” George replied, shaking his head.

Before George could react, Chris leaned in and chomped on his shoulder.

“OW! What the—Chris!” George yelped, pulling away.

"It’s affection!" Chris declared, grinning. "It’s like a hug but more memorable."

George rolled his eyes. "You’re a menace."

The room erupted in laughter.

“There it is!” ArthurTV declared, pointing at Chris. “The Dixon Bite™. Knew it was coming.”

“It’s like clockwork,” Arthur Hill added, shaking his head.

George rubbed his shoulder, half laughing, half glaring. “You’re like a drunk toddler, mate. What is wrong with you?”

Chris, unfazed, raised his can of beer in mock salute. “I told you it’s affection, George. Pure, unfiltered affection.”

Most of the time though it was usually Arthur Frederick, also known as ArthurTV who was on the receiving end of the Dixon chomp.

The first time it happened on camera was during Chris’s first pub golf video, they were a long time into the video and a lot of alcohol had been consumed. They were sat outside on a wooden bench, others were ready to get up and leave with only Chris, Arthur and a cameraman remaining.

“These arms have so little fat on them” Chris slurred as he attempted to pinch the bicep and got his face right up to the muscle in order to admire it. Arthur paid absolutely no attention to his old school friend as he was playing chess on his phone. Suddenly though the brunettes attention was grabbed by the mistakable feelings of two small rows on teeth on his bicep, he looked and there was Chris hanging from his arm.

“Get off me,” Arthur cried and shrugged the smaller man off who could only give a very drunken giggle in response.

“I am the envy of every girl in my Youtube comments right now.”

There was one person who was very bemused by the whole thing, and that was Y/N. Y/N was a relative newcomer to the Youtube scene, she had started out on TikTok but had branched out to Youtube over the past eighteen months, it was a very similar story to George so because of that the two became quite good friends. She could be incredibly sassy, which was good considering she spent a lot of time keeping in check a lot of rowdy boys.

The group were out for karaoke, it had become quite a staple for all of them, joining the aforementioned group of George, Chris, the Arthur’s and Y/N was another relative newcomer to the content creating scene; Italian Bach. Dutch courage was always needed for people to get up in front of a crowd and sing, and that also meant that everyone was waiting for Chris to pounce, today it was Arthur Hill’s turn.

“You haven’t eaten dinner and with your stature that can only spell disaster, here have this,” Arthur suggested as he pushed a bottle of water in Chris’s direction.

“You’re a good mate, Arthur,” he said, accepting the water. Then, without warning, he lunged and bit Arthur’s upper arm, his mouth still wet from the beverage.

Arthur froze, staring at Chris in disbelief. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“Consider it a thank you,” Chris said, grinning.

Arthur sighed, shaking his head. “You know, one day someone’s going to bite you back, and you’re not going to like it.”

Y/N shook her head from her seat. “You’re like an overexcited puppy, Chris. Maybe someone needs to get you a chew toy.” Y/N and Chris had a budding friendship, it was really awkward at first as the pair didn’t know how much they had in common until they both really got to know each other more. Chris really liked the when Y/N took charge too, he needed a girl just like that to keep him on the straight and narrow. Not that he needed parenting or anything but he knew he sometimes took things too far and needed someone to tell him when it was enough and when he needed to wind his neck in. Chris stared at Y/N intensely, she gave back a slightly bemused expression as she watched him bite his lower lip slightly.

“Or my cock… wait what?” ArthurTV added trying to cut the tension.

Nights out with the group were very often, especially for the group who lived together and Arthur and Y/N tagged along often as they were all single. As Bach had a girlfriend he wasn’t always present. The group this time was missing Bach as well as Arthur Hill who was busy rehearing for his upcoming tour. Chris was particularly buoyant that night, fueled by tequila shots and the high of securing a girls number. Y/N was standing at the bar, chatting with George, when Chris appeared out of nowhere.

"Y/N!" he exclaimed, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "You’re a legend. An absolute legend."

"Thanks, Chris," Y/N said, laughing. "You’re not so bad yourself."

Before she could say more, she felt his teeth on her upper arm as it was exposed by her sleeveless top

"Chris!" she shouted, jerking away. "Did you just bite me?"

"It’s a compliment!" Chris insisted, grinning. "Means I like you." This was the first time Chris had done it too her and when he let go and looked at Y/N he had such a cheeky look on his face, she tried to be angry but couldn’t help but laugh at the dopey expression, it was quite cute plus she liked the idea she had sort of now been through the initiation ceremony to join the group. She felt like it was a rite of passage she had just gone through.

She stared at him, half-annoyed, half-amused. "You’re lucky I don’t bite back."

The idea must have planted itself in Y/N’s mind, because the next time they were out, she decided to test his theory, They were at another bar. Chris was his usual tipsy self, moving through the group like a whirlwind of energy. Y/N watched as he playfully bit ArthurTV on the shoulder before bursting into laughter.

“You’re going to pick on the wrong person one day,” Y/N mused finished her drink and placing it on the table behind her.

“Hey, I have never had any complaints about my mouth skills before now,”

“You are so full of it aren’t you?”

“You want to be filled…” While Chris was distracted by talking Y/N leaned in and bit him on the arm—not too hard, but enough to make him yelp.

"Ow!" Chris exclaimed, clutching his arm. "What was that for?"

"Just returning the favour," Y/N said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Chris stared at her for a moment, then burst into laughter. "Alright, fair play.”

The rest of the night, there was a palpable shift in the dynamic between Chris and Y/N. They found themselves gravitating toward each other, the biting incident breaking down some unspoken barrier. Their banter was sharper, their laughter louder, and there was a spark in their interactions that hadn’t been there before.

At one point, they were sitting at a table, sharing a plate of chips. Y/N reached for the last one, and Chris playfully swatted her hand away.

"Hey!" she protested. "I’m hungry."

"So am I," Chris said, popping the chip into his mouth with a cheeky grin.

"You’re impossible," Y/N said, shaking her head. But she was smiling.

Chris leaned in slightly, his voice softer. "And yet, you’re still here."

Y/N felt her cheeks flush but didn’t look away. "Maybe I like impossible."

They stayed like that for a moment, the noise of the bar fading into the background. Then, without thinking, Chris closed the distance between them and kissed her.

Y/N didn’t pull away. Instead, she kissed him back, her hand resting lightly on his arm. When they finally broke apart, Chris looked at her, a mix of surprise and delight on his face.

"I didn’t see that coming," he admitted.

"Me neither," Y/N said, laughing softly. "But I’m not complaining."

Chris smiled and leaned in again, the kiss wasn’t as soft this time, less tentative and more passionate. Y/N kissed back with full gusto, letting out a small moan when she felt a slight nibble on her bottom lip.

It felt like moments until the pair were in an Uber, Chris’s hand moving up Y/N’s leg the further they got to his flat. The lift ride was quiet and as soon as they reached the black front door to the flat Y/N was pinned against it Chris kissing her again. They fumbled their way to the bedroom Y/N knocking into a plant as they went discarding clothes along the way.

Y/N moaned as Chris’s kisses and light nibbles moved down her jawline and neck.

“You like that?” Chris smirked peppering his kisses lower, removing Y/N’s shirt and bra before carefully placing one her breasts in his mouth.

“Fuck Chris,” Y/N gasped as he liked and again gently bit her where she was most sensitive.

“God you moaning my name is sexy,” he whispered removing Y/N’s underwear. He planted kisses up her thigh, too slowly for Y/N’s liking “Chris please I need you,” she managed to breathe out, that was all Chris needed before his tongue made contact with Y/N’s clit causing her to moan incredibly loudly. It was an ongoing joke that Chris had recently had a lot of practice with women but Y/N was now reaping those rewards massively as Chris was showing her he knew exactly what he was doing, eating her out, his tongue working wonders as a hand massaged her clit simultaneously. Y/N’s breath quickened and her moans loudened as she felt the familiar feeling bubbling in the pit of her stomach, but she also wanted Chris to get his.

“Come here,” she demanded pushing Chris’s face from her pussy and forcing him to look at her. He removed his boxers and was surprised as Y/N pushed him back slightly and Y/N crawled onto Chris’s lap kissing him as she lowered herself onto him, lotus was one of her favourite positions. She bounced on him with as much gusto as she had, only stopping to moan slightly when Chris kissed her, adding the odd bite. Soon enough the pair entered a climax shortly after another before collapsing exhausted in the bed.

Chris was awake first the next morning, he went to grab a coffee hearing that George and Arthur were already awake.

“And where did you get off to last night?” George asked with a smirk as he leaned against the breakfast bar.

“What do you mean?” Chris tried to shrug it off as he poured his cup of morning.

“Well there’s the fact you left without saying goodbye last night, then when we came home we find the plant half hanging off the table, tripped over women’s shoes and some very obvious sounds,” Arthur replied also smirking as he grabbed his cup.

“Well it sounds like you’ve already made your minds up,” Chris shrugged, he looked up at the creaking door to his room and Y/N walked in wearing her outfit from the night before. Her big eyes went even bigger as she saw three men staring back at her she quickly tried to scramble for an excuse.

“I erm.. got too drunk and Chris bought me back here, being a gentleman though he slept on the floor…”

“Y/N that would be so much more convincing if it wasn’t for the fact your neck and shoulder looks like you’ve had cupping treatment,” George replied. Y/N walked towards a mirror and sure enough Chris has definitely made his mark.

“Chris we really need to talk about this biting thing,” she sighed.

[thevoidstaredback]

Okay, so, crisis averted. Both of them, really. Red Robin had not asked or attempted to get any more of Danny's drink and the World Ending Crisis was less World Ending and more World Threatening. Either way, no one is hyped up in lethal amounts of caffeine and the world is in no more pieces than it had been before.

That brings attention to a new problem, though. It's uniquely Danny's problem and Constantine and Zatanna and Deadman won't stop laughing at him. He's also pretty sure that Raven is laughing at him in the privacy of her mind, so that's making him feel worse.

The problem is that every single hero that had been at the meeting a week ago that was not a part of the JLD has been overly concerned about him.

So what if he half died when he was fourteen and therefore will never look over either fourteen or eighteen? So what if he consumes enough caffeine to kill an elephant within a few minutes? What is he gonna do, die? That's not a real threat as long as he only fights as Phantom.

Ignoring the fact that he can, in fact, get hurt to the point of near death as Phantom. It's not like anyone knows that, though! Besides, ghosts run on god rules. They can't die, only fade when forgotten. People aren't likely to forget about most ghosts, though, even if they can't remember their names.

He's not gonna share that, though. Let Batman keep his contingency that won't work because the only contingency that will work for Phantom is the one he made himself. Tried and tested! He's marked it off of his Bingo Card.

Anyway. Heros and their kids/proteges have been trying to track him down for the entire week. He can't risk even leaving the House of Mysteries because the Supers are all probably listening out for him and they can't hear him through magic. It sucks. He just wants to go get a cup of coffee as Danny. The second he leaves, though, the Supers will be on him like bloodhounds. He'd leave as Danny, but the rest of the JLD don't know what he looks like as Danny and he'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much. Being stuck as Phantom was going to start causing issues to his human half if he doesn't get to leave soon.

Should he risk it? Is coffee that won't kill him really worth risking the Supers finding out his civilian identity? Sure, they wouldn't tell anyone, but he didn't like the idea of someone being able to pick him out of a crowd when all he wanted to do was blend in. It's why he avoided Gotham and Bludhaven, actually, but that's both self explanatory and another story for another time.

"You're still here?" Zatanna sat on the couch beside him. "You're normally gone by now. You can't not be tired of us yet."

He sighed and sunk down into the couch slightly. "Believe me, I'm tired of being stuck here, but I can't leave. I can't leave as a human because you guys don't know what I look like and, no offense, but I'd like to keep it that way. I can't leave as I am now because Superman will be on my ass quicker than I can blink!" He whined this time, "I just want a cup of coffee."

"What about your special brew?" Raven asked, coming into the room.

"I want to drink coffee as a human. That stuff will kill me if I drink it as a human."

"At least you know your limits."

"That sounded like a dig at someone, Z."

"It was."

"Why don't you just go out under a protection spell?" Raven offered, "We could cast one over you and you could leave. Superman can't hear through magic, so he won't be able to tell. Neither will Superboy."

Danny thought for a second. "You're a genius, Raven! Has anyone ever told you that?"

"A few times," she blushed.

"Well, it needs to be said more!"

Zatanna laughed. "Alright, kid, let's get you outside before you drive yourself crazy."

Practically vibrating in place, Danny waited for the protection spell to settle over him. The second it did, he was out the door and wandering the streets of whatever city the House of Mysteries decided to drop him as Danny instead of Phantom.

"Who are you," was not the question or voice he wanted to hear the second he stepped into the open as himself.

"Danny," he squeaked out through his absolute panic. He didn't dare turn around.

The sound of fabric moving minutely clues him in to the second person behind him. What the hell were these two doing out? It's the middle of the day and there's no attacks going on anywhere in Gotham!

"Where did you come from?" Robin asked.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! This was really bad! Why did the House drop him *here* of all places? Does it *want* him to die again? It was very painful the first time, thank you very much! "Illinois?"

"Was that a question or an answer?" Why is Red Robin here now?!

"An-an answer?"

"Ah, you guys are scaring the little guy!" That was Nightwing. They're surrounding him! Why is Nightwing here? This is Gotham, not Bludhaven. "Give him some room to breathe."

They did not, in fact, give him room to breathe. Maybe coming outside was a bad idea. If he gets out of this no more dead than he already was, he was going to move to the middle of nowhere and become a hermit. Smallville is a town in the middle of nowhere, right? He'll retire as Phantom and move to Smallville until the people get suspicious and burn him as a witch-!

Maybe moving to a big city would be a better idea. Or locking himself in the basement of the House of Mysteries. Yeah, yeah that's a good idea.

"-even listening?"

Oh shit. They were still talking to him! Now is not the time to panic! "Gottagobye!" And then he was running.

Good job not panicking, Danny.

Part 1 Part 3

[angel06babysworld]

Almost a Family

babydaddy!rafe x blackcat!reader

Chapter One

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

Rafe Cameron was leaning back on the hood of his truck when she told him.

It was mid-July, sticky and slow, the kind of summer evening where the air barely moved and everything smelled like salt and sunburnt pavement. He had a toothpick between his teeth, lazy grin stretched across his face, that sleeveless tee he liked way too much hanging off his sun-kissed shoulders. She stood in front of him, arms crossed tight, fingers digging into her own skin.

“Rafe,” she said quietly, “I’m pregnant.”

He blinked. Smiled for a second—because he thought she was joking. She watched that split-second of levity flash in his eyes before it vanished completely. His whole body seemed to go still.

“What?”

“I’m late. I took the test,” she said, voice steady even though her heart felt like it was cracking through her ribs. “Twice.”

He sat up straighter, the grin gone now. “But—we were careful.”

“We weren’t careful enough.”

For a long second, he said nothing. He just stared at her like he was trying to make the words mean something else. Like she’d say just kidding if he looked hard enough.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m sure.”

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing now, like if he just moved fast enough the problem would disappear behind him. “Shit. I mean… I thought you were on the pill.”

“I was. You knew I missed two last month.”

“That doesn’t mean—God, I didn’t think—” He cut himself off, breathing heavy now. “I’m eighteen, Blackwell. I’m just trying to graduate. You’re sixteen. We’re not—this isn’t… I’m not ready to be someone’s dad.”

Her throat felt raw. “You think I am?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“No. You just said you’re not ready, like I’m not standing here already terrified out of my mind.”

He didn’t look at her. Not really. Just kept pacing, palms on his hips like the weight of this belonged to gravity and not to him.

“I’m not ready,” he said again, softer this time. “I care about you. But this… this changes everything.”

She folded her arms tighter. “Yeah. It does.”

Rafe opened his mouth, closed it. He looked at her like he wanted to fix it, like maybe if he just said the right thing she’d stop looking at him like he’d just walked away from her without taking a single step.

But he didn’t say anything else.

So she turned and walked off his driveway barefoot, too stunned to cry.

Well. That was four years ago.

Now, she was nineteen. A mom. And not just a mom—the mom. The one with the schedule, the backup snacks, the allergy list in her notes app. The one who remembered field trip forms and saved Vivianna from eating glue. She lived in a little two-bedroom apartment ten minutes from the preschool, drove a car with juice box stains on the back seat, and didn’t have time to wonder what Rafe was “ready” for anymore.

And Rafe—twenty-one now—was trying.

Trying in the way a boy tries when he knows he should’ve been a man by now. He paid his part. He showed up. He sent good morning texts with coffee money attached. Sometimes, when he picked Vivianna up, she’d fall asleep on his chest and he’d look at her like the world cracked open the day she was born.

But he didn’t get to call her his girl anymore. Not her. Not the woman who carried it all when he wasn’t ready.

They co-parented.

Kind of.

Some weeks were smoother than others. Some exchanges ended with a tired smile and a nod. Others ended with slammed doors and sharp, unfinished sentences.

Still—there were moments.

Like the one coming up, right now, as she stood in front of her bathroom mirror brushing Vivianna’s curls into pigtails while the toddler babbled about how she told her teacher that “mommy has special powers.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What kind of powers?”

“Like—you make everything work! And you don’t even cry!”

That made her laugh under her breath. “You don’t know how many times I almost have.”

Vivi beamed in the mirror, proud of herself, even as applesauce clung to her shirt. Her daughter was loud, bright, full of too many questions and too much energy. She had Rafe’s grin. And her eyes.

There was a knock at the door just as she zipped up Vivi’s hoodie.

Rafe. Right on time. For once.

tags: @amelialovesrafe @alyisdead @illumoria @blissfulbutterfliess @sydneysslove @sc04 @matthewswifeyy @meetmeintheemeraldpool @icversvoid @honeyinthesummer @dolli333 @lolabunnyworldss @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account