#Jaws Theme Swimming

[pirateboy]

my ethan/giles playlist is sooo good i have such an ego ab it. thank u btvs for making this storyline an obvious metaphor for drugs so i have lots of songs to cry ab them with.

[peachy-wolfhard]

island in the sun

summary: you go to a waterpark with your jjk boyf

includes: megumi fushiguro, yuta okkotsu, and toge inumaki

a/n: weezer title sorry, i pulled a muscle in my knee :((

warnings: swimming, mentions of kids peeing in pools, megumi almost fights a child, toge meows and pinches

word count: 677 (about 200~ish each)

Megumi:

A waterpark would probably not be his first plan when it gets hot, he's more of an indoor pool/wave pool person

But! Once you get him there and he finds out there's a lazy river? Oh you're going to have to PRY him out of there

Intentionally pushes you into the waterfall things in the lazy river

He does NOT like the slides, something about them makes him nervous

Will only go on the slides if there two person ones, he goes down YOU go down

Religiously reapplies sunscreen, to the point he has a white sheen on him permanently 

Swims around like a sim and tries to avoid all small children

“You’re being so weird,” you giggled swimming up to Megumi’s left side, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Im avoiding the kids, they're probably pissing in it. The moment I feel warm water I’m fighting a child.”

Goes into the pool first and immediately starts splashing you as you’re trying to walk in

“Gumi oh my god stop splashing me. It’s cold!”

“I’m getting you acclimated”

As soon as you get in, you dunk him underwater then get the whistle blown at you

Plays mermaids with you but doesn't get fully into it

Yuta:

Another one that doesn't immediately think of a waterpark on a hot day

Not that he doesn't like waterparks, he just doesn't think of a waterpark

Nevertheless, he has an amazing time

Like Megumi, he’s anxious about the slides but once he goes down them with you, best believe he’s glued to them

Swims exclusively in the very deep end

If you’re short and can't reach the bottom (real me too) Yuta WILL swim around with you in his arms bridal style

Speaking of that, Yuta LOVES the game where you guess colors and if you get it wrong, you get dunked (he picks the most obscure colors to the point you think he’s making them up)

Caked in sunscreen, please help him rub it in he looks like a piece of paper

“Honey, you're a mess,” you giggle at Yuta, who looks as if he’s wearing white face paint.

“You put too much on,” you say, wiping the excess off his face and onto yourself.

“I'm just trying to stay protected, love,” Yuta mumbles sticking his tongue out as you both continue rubbing the sunscreen in.

After he gets all of his slide fun out of his system, you guys go on the lazy river until you leave

Toge:

Ugh my freak

A menace as normal

Meows when he sees your swimsuit (no matter what it is, he's meowing)

Goes down ALL the slides even the kid ones

When he goes down the slides, he pushes the slide so you guys go even faster down

(spoiler: he gets the whistle blown at him so much)

Forgets to put sunscreen on and gets so burned

Brings goggles and swims underwater just to pinch you

“You need to stop,” you say pulling Toge up from underwater “Get a grip freak”

Likes to hum the Jaws theme song while following you around with only his eyes above the water

Follows behind you, slowly humming the theme to Jaws. turning around you crouch to his level, chin touching the water. As Toge gets closer you put your arm in front of you pushing his forehead away from you giggling.

Splashes you by flicking the water

Fights with you on the lazy river to try and get you wet (gets the whistle blown at him AGAIN)

Ends up losing his goggles and needs eyedrops desperately

After his goggles are gone, you guys cuddle on one of the lounge chairs (he’s back to being nice toge) ((the goggles are his green goblin mask))

WILL play mermaids with you and takes it seriously

[naffeclipse]

naff plz, I'm weak and and I hunger 👀

Turns out I am too. This was supposed to only be 500 words. Now we're here smh

Minnow

Reader x Shark!Eclipse

Content Warning for suggestive themes.

———

You have a problem on your hands.

Sitting on the edge of a sea-salt slick rock in your dark wetsuit, the ocean breeze sweeping your hair into tangles, you stare. A whale carcass sits heavy and rotting. The edges of the waves roll up on the flat, tan sand of your seaside home and tug at the giant, dead beast, but one fin is only loosened slightly before the water returns without its passenger. The scent of a festering body hangs in the air and coats the back of your throat.

A sharp fin cuts through the wave farther from shore. You glance at it, but whatever fish swims near dives below, out of sight.

You turn back to the very big problem. It will ruin the beach for the tourists. You’re a council member only in name—more of a glorified intern, despite your best efforts to not only fetch coffee. Whenever there’s a job that doesn’t involve sitting inside around a table, away from the heat and humidity of a summery, oceanic day, it’s pushed into your lap to fix.

You have no idea how to remove a 40-ton whale from the sands.

Your right leg slips off of the rock and your foot splashes into the sea. Before you can fix your stance, tug your knees up to balance on the rock while the tide splashes at the base of your little watery perch, a clawed hand seizes your ankle.

A sharp gasp rips from you. Ripped downwards, you brace yourself, screwing your eyes shut as the ocean water rushes up your body, but something plants itself on either side of you. Pinned to the rock, you shiver at the fresh touch of the sea lapping at your ribs. Your feet barely find the purchase of sand. A shadow falls over your eyelids, and a soft hum spins through the breeze.

“Hello,” a voice growls deep, rumbling through the air and brushing against it. “Might I ask why you’re frowning so much?”

You slowly pry open one eye, then the other before your jaw loosens in wonder and fear. 

A creature looms above you. His head is wide and flat, colored a dark gray. Strange cartilaginous fins frame his head in a crown of sharp, red, and black spikes. The moment you gawk, he flashes a dangerous row of curved teeth with serrated edges. The very breath catches in your throat while his arms, sleek and barred with burnt red stripes, hold you against the sleek rock. 

Your eyes fall down his body. His lithe frame melts from a very human torso into the body of a predatory fishtail—a shark. His underside is pale gray while his back is dark, bearing a wicked dorsal fin with the same barred patterns down his sides in burnt red. Just below the surface, you catch a swishing of a caudal fin. Long and pointed, it cuts through the ocean as if it were mere seafoam.

“What—who are you?” you sputter. Your hands hold defensively to your chest while you return to his unearthly but memorizing face. His eyes burn low in a sharp orange light. 

“I am Eclipse.” He lifts one hand from the rock. A dark talon tips his long, thin finger before he hooks your chin, tilting your head up. The sharp edge teases your skin with how easily it can slice you. You swallow apprehension. His eyes fall to your throat, his teeth flashing in the sunlight. “And I asked you a question.”

Your pulse picks up in your ears, beating double time against the tide. What did he ask you? The echo of his words returns. You slowly form an ‘O’ with your lips.

“I’m not, um, frowning?” Certainly not now, if the terror you hide behind says anything. You curl your fingers into tight balls. “Were you watching me?”

The strange man-fish chuckles a low sound—as if you’re very silly. “I was. You’re quite a lovely sight, perched on this rock like a seabird. But you seemed troubled. You still do.”

He slowly forces your head to tilt this way and that, moving you under the sunlight while he examines you with his piercing gaze. You let him, utterly, horribly confused about how this all came to be. Does he intend to devour you like a tiger shark? Or is it a very strange ‘hello’?

A hum of satisfaction arises, but he is no less intrigued by what he’s captured in his hand. You try to turn away but he holds firm and clicks his tongue.

“There is still something vexing you” he concludes, “Tell me, so I might make it right.”

You almost level a look at him, as if the very interesting occurrence of a fish-man grabbing you and pulling you into the water isn’t vexing enough, but mind your manners. His claws press along your mouthbone. Your heart beats heavy in your chest, against the splashing waters, but your eyes flick towards the beach. Eclipse follows your gaze with narrowed eyes.

“Dead whale,” you say, hoping he doesn’t decide to cut your face with his claws, “I need it off the beach, but, um, I’m not sure how to do that.”

“Oh,” he laughs, and you stop to soak in the echo of his shoulder, melodic and growling. “Is that all? A simple solution, minnow, but I do ask for a small token in return for my help.”

You stiffen. A skip in your chest sends a coldness into your legs and fingertips. You look down, staring at the thin corded strength of his chest, the lissom power of his tail, and how easily he could drag you out to sea should you not give an answer he wants to hear.

How could a herculean task be so easy in his eyes? You almost don’t believe him.

“Minnow,” he rumbles softly and forces your head up higher to capture your gaze. You shiver in the brine. “It’s nothing to be afraid of. I will help you, and you will give me what I desire.”

Desire can be very, very dangerous.

“I’m not giving you people’s souls or whatever,” you say firmly, even if your eyes grow wet with terror. 

Eclipse swipes a thumb along your cheek, wetting it with sea salt and foam. His grin stretches wide until you see into his massive jaws.

“What use would I have of souls?” His tongue swipes over his row of serrated teeth. “No, I want something much more tangible.”

He squeezes your mouth softly until your lips are pushed into a pout, and realization jolts straight into your stomach. A dreaded blood rush fills your cheeks. You burn. Eclipse tilts his head, his eyes widening, flashing with the hunger of a shark in the depths.

“What do you want?” you whisper, your eyelids trembling as you nearly squeeze them shut again.

He leans in closer. You smell the sharp tang of iron and salt upon his breath.

“Seven kisses.”

Your eyes fly open, relieved and mortified. Unfurling your fingers, you try to shake your head but your jaw remains caught in the vice of his grips.

“Seven?” You sputter before spewing, “That’s—that’s a lot!”

“It’s a perfectly natural amount for the task I will undertake for you.” He draws the pad of his finger down the line of your jaw. A shiver overtakes your shoulders as you close your eyes for a heartbeat.

“And if I say no?” you ask quietly, watching him in the way you fear a minnow might watch a shark. 

He leans back. The corners of his mouth pull down.

“Then we shall both be disappointed, and I will leave.”

Your mind whirls at the thought—an easy ‘no’, but you don’t know if you trust him. Why would he do such a task? Why kisses of all things? Will he turn you into a fish after the seventh one? Will he devour you when you get too close? 

“How do I know you’re not going to eat me or down me or something?” you ask, pushing past the rattle in your throat.

Eclipse chuckles but there’s much less mirth in the echo, and your gut twists within you.

“If I wanted to take a bite out of you, I would have forgone the introductions.” His smile spreads wide. 

A cold, unflinching intuition within you agrees.

“Got it,” you murmur. “Just, uh, no biting, okay?”

He looms over you. His claws take you by the shoulders and hold you tighter to the rock. Your lungs freeze. Your rapid pulse fills your head in the same way you hear ocean waves when you hold a seashell up to your ear. 

“Minnow, do you accept my price?” Eclipse’s thumbs rub circles into your wetsuit.

He did not agree to your no-biting rule. Still, you swallow roughly and try to find some sensibility in agreeing to give a fish man kisses. The dead whale will be gone if Eclipse is true to his word. And it’s only a kiss—seven of them.

You press your lips together and close your eyes.

“I do,” you say. You open them again. “How do you want to do this? All at once or—”

A sharp flick of a tail pushes Eclipse against you. A bleeding blush takes over your face, pinned between him and the rock as he gathers your face in his hands. He holds your gaze, orange eyes blazing like a sunset. Your chest heaves. Water laps up against you as his pinky finger brushes against your throat. 

“Slowly,” he answers, voice lowering into a husky growl, “One by one.”

Your insides bubble at the sight of his teeth. A tumble of your heart knocks into your ribs. He lowers himself closer until you close your eyes. The ocean tugs at both of you but he keeps you firmly in place. His lips touch yours. A taste of something sharp and brackish spills into your mouth and you make a soft sound in the back of your throat. He purrs. The vibration touches you before he gently pushes and pulls against your lips like the tide. He gives and he takes, swallowing your affection. A hungry touch of his tongue swipes the inside of your mouth. You find your hands falling to his shoulders and holding on as if upon a lifesaver, lost out at sea.

Then he unhooks his jaws and frees you. A taste of sea salt remains on your tongue. You gasp softly, realizing how much fresh air you crave after his kiss. Your head falls back against the rock as your lungs heave. He still holds above you, tall and towering, but content.

Eclipse's eyes are half-lidded, gentle in his gaze as his claw gently brushes your bottom lip. His tongue swipes back over his own teeth as if savoring the taste of your flesh.

“Thank you for the kiss,” he rasps. “The whale carcass will be gone come morning light.”

“Okay,” you give, still lost in the salty haze the impression of his mouth left on you, “What about the other kisses?”

“Soon, minnow,” he gives with a sharp grin. “I will call upon you soon.”

He takes you by the hips. You gasp, your hands flying to his arms as he lifts you effortlessly out of the water and sets you back upon the rock. You sit, dripping in your stupor, eyes wide at how easily his palms fit over your waist. He rests his talons on the slick edge. His orange eyes upturn as he smiles one last time.

“Goodbye,” he growls gently. His teeth flash as he slips down, and you catch the full length of his impressive tail and sharp, pointed fins. A sharp flip of his body turns him in an instant, the water bending to his whim, and he slowly swims. The tip of his dorsal carries over the waves until at last, he disappears into the depth.

And you are left sitting with a pink heat in your face and a ghostly tang behind your teeth. His kiss leaves you spellbound.

You have an entirely new problem on your hands.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Omega Ours - Part 2 | Alpha!Cassian x Alpha!Nesta x Omega!Reader | Short Series 3.4k

Nesta and Cassian try to stay away from you, but your heat is just so irrisitable...

Warnings: 18+ sexual content, language & themes. Omegaverse dynamics including Alpha & Omega and the sexist assumptions/implications that go along with it, heat/heat cycles, claiming & knotting! Explicit sexual content, vaginal sex, anal sex, use of toys, oral sex, dp, creampie, dirty talk, bit of degredation/humiliation/teasing very much under-negotiated. NSFW. Filth.

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources patient beta reading and mutual squealing from @christywantspizza ❤️

Created for @polyacotarweek - prompt 7 free day so ... Have some disgusting smut because I wish I was in a Nessian sandwich!

Cassian & Nesta - from Pinterest

Part 1 | Masterlist | Poly Fics | Cassian

“Nesta -” Cassian’s voice was a low warning growl, you kept your eyes closed as the bed dipped. 

You felt worse, if anything, not better. Their scent was everywhere. On the sheets where you’d heard them make love night after night, on the pillow where the scent of Nesta’s soap lingered. Your heart was racing, your palms hot and sticky with sweat and that sick, dizzy feeling made the room spin. You couldn’t open your eyes if you tried. 

Then there was a cooling hand on your forehead, fingers long and delicate, Nesta. Without thinking, you sighed into the touch, rolling towards her. 

“Nesta, we talked about this, we need to get off the bed now.” Cassian’s voice was so far away, floating from the doorway, but Nesta’s was a balm against your aching mind, whispered in your ear. 

“She doesn’t want me to leave, Cas, and you don’t want to leave either.” 

“No, I don’t, but she made it quite clear -” 

You were drowning in them, their presence, their very beings, the hum of magic that Nesta seemed to emit wherever she went, the swell of power behind Cassian’s syphons, it called to you. Your body was its own, separate from your will, arching off the bed with a whimper. 

“Fuck,” Cassian was closer now, his hand touching your cheek, you nuzzled into it, the callouses on his hands were rough but his palm was a dry warmth, comforting. 

The throbbing that had started in your chest moved down and you recognised the dull ache between your legs. A flush rippled over you, sending goosebumps in its wake and the humiliating feel of slick between your thighs. 

“Hmm - exactly, Cas, fuck.” Nesta sounded as gone as you did, her nose tracing the line of your jaw. “I know you’re awake, sweetheart,” she cooed. Her hands slid over your body, tracing down your side and then up over your stomach and between your breasts. Naked under the blankets, your nipples pebbled when she rubbed a thumb over each nub. 

The bed moved, and Cassian’s hand joined Nesta’s, cupping your full breast and squeezing gently. You moaned in response, trapped between them, your thighs wet with arousal, sliding over each other. 

And then your eyes flew open and the reality of your situation dawned on you. 

“What-?” 

Nesta’s head dipped to nuzzle at your neck, her teeth scraping over the delicate skin and that primal side of you wanted to go lax, to let her scent you and bite you and claim you. But you wouldn’t allow it, couldn’t allow yourself to give in. 

Cassian’s hand was still holding you, his wings flaring behind him, taking up every inch of your eyeline, each movement sending tingles down your spine. His smile was low, hungry and his hazel eyes flicked down to your lips before looking over your shoulder at his mate. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’ll take good care of you,” his voice rumbled. 

Angry, you sat up, your head swimming, and pushed their hands away. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you insisted, "I can take care of myself.”

With difficulty, you scrambled from the bed, dragging the sheet with you to keep your naked body covered. “If you insist,” Nesta purred, her finger trailing down your back as she passed, moving slowly towards the door. “You can probably deal with this alone, omega.” 

Cassian followed, towering over you as he tipped your chin up with one long finger. “You could deal with it alone, this is your heat after all. But if you need some help, you only have to ask.” He ran his hand over your cheek and down your neck before following Nesta from the room. 

As soon as the door was shut, you threw yourself back on the bed. You knew from their own activities that there were toys and oils in the little table by the bed and it was here you went first, pulling open the drawer and rummaging around until you found a beautiful crystal toy, it was long and phallic, not an unfamiliar shape, but you’d never been able to afford something beautiful before. 

It was blissfully cold against your heated skin, sliding between your folds and you welcomed the stretch as you eased the toy inside, sighing as you lazed back into the bed. You moved the toy slowly, finding a rhythm that had you clenching on the unrelenting material. The haze took over again and you allowed your eyes to close, revelling in the relief of being full. 

Cassian was right, this was a heat and you were sure you could handle it yourself, even if you’d never had to deal with a heat near an Alpha, let alone two, where their heavy presence remained even when they were gone, their scent, the feel of their hands. You tugged at your own nipple, remembering the feel of Nesta’s fingers. Before you could stop yourself, you were sighing her name, imagining that she was still curled up behind you, taking control of the toy between your legs. Then there was Cassian. When you were feeling so vulnerable and dizzy he had kept you steady, his agreement that this was something you could weather seemed genuine, but so was his offer to help. 

They hadn’t been what you expected, this strong, warrior like couple and you moaned again. “Cassian.” 

The toy stopped, a delicate hand moving yours away and taking over, the new angle brushing against your swollen clit. 

“I knew you wanted us,” Nesta’s clear voice made it through the haze, your will to fight fading as she worked the toy harder, pressing up just as a large hand smoothed over your lower stomach. Stars exploded in your vision and you reached out grabbing at them both as you rode out your orgasm. 

Above you, Cassian leaned over, cupping Nesta’s face and pulling her into him. They kissed with such passion you couldn’t tear your eyes away. 

Hazel and blue-grey eyes turned towards you, their gaze piercing, taking in your sweaty forehead, open mouth and pleading eyes. 

Nesta ran a thumb over your lip. “Do you require some help, sweetheart?” Her voice was a tease, making you throb with need. You didn’t hesitate to nod. Her thumb was replaced with her tongue, teasing along the seam of your lips before dipping inside, claiming and tasting you. Cassian continued moving the toy slowly inside, the ripples of your orgasm still making you twitch. 

Nesta’s lips were replaced with Cassian’s, his pressure harder, more insistent and you luxuriated in the feel of them moving around you, taking control of your body. Cassian slid the toy from you and the feeling of emptiness made you whine with need, grabbing at the two alphas. 

“I knew you’d be wet for us,” Nesta hummed, and you opened your eyes in time to see her lick your arousal from the length of the toy. Her hand cupped you between your legs, fingers teasing. “Your pussy’s so wet you’ve soaked the sheets, I knew it.” Her grin was feral, like a cat after cornering a mouse. 

“Let me taste.” Cassian brought Nesta’s fingers to his lips and sucked lewdly. 

You were empty again and this time your whimper did not go unnoticed. “Does someone need their pussy filled?” Nesta pouted at you, her eyebrows raised. 

“Yes, yes, please - I - please,” you begged, the fog of your heat taking over your ability to think. All you could see was them, all you could feel and all that you wanted. 

Nesta turned you to face her, cradling your body into her chest. Instinctively, you licked at a rosy nipple, taking the bud into your mouth and sucking hard until Nesta gasped. 

“Good girl,” she soothed, petting the back of your head, “You’ll need to bite down on something when he pushes in.” Her hand hooked your thigh up over her hip, opening you up and then you felt the blunt, wide head of Cassian’s cock nudging at your entrance and - she was right. 

“Oh Gods,” you moaned, pushing your face further into Nesta’s chest, breath heaving as you adjusted to his size. 

“You’re doing so well.” She stroked your back over the curve of your bottom and then back up with her nails, soothing then scratching in turn. The mixture of pleasure and pain was enough to confuse your already addled brain and, before you could register it, Cassian was flush against your back, panting in your ear. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good on my cock, so tight.” He kissed behind your ear, the gentle gesture so at odds with the rough cant of his hips. “We’ll fuck you through this heat, don’t worry.” 

“I can- I can do it on my own,” You insisted meekly, meeting Nesta’s storm grey eyes. 

“Of course you can.” She bent and kissed you gentle. “You’re doing so well, getting through this heat. It’s okay to ask for help. We’ll help you, won’t we, baby?” 

“Of course we will,” Cassian grunted, his thrusts slow and steady but deep, so deep, so full. 

When their eyes met, Nesta mirrored Cassian’s smile, knowing and understanding and teasing and Alpha. They’d take care of you, you knew they would, and you’d be satisfied and satiated by the end but you would be theirs, there would be no arguing your way out of this. 

Your eyes rolled as Cassian hit a particularly delicious spot, sending shooting pleasure up your spine, “Gods, Cassian - I” 

“Come for him,” Nesta instructed and you couldn’t stop yourself, your body obeyed before your mind could argue, pleasure washing over you so fast you had to dig your nails into Nesta’s arms to hold on, so sure you’d be pulled along by it. 

You recovered slowly, floating in a daze of post coital bliss only to find yourself sat above Cassian, the general sprawled below you, his hair like a devilish halo on the white pillow cases and his handsome face contorted with pleasure. That deep ache was still inside, making you grind your clit down against him and it was then you realised he was still buried inside of you, his cock twitching with every movement of your hips. 

“You look so pretty when you come for us.” He held your hips in his hands, keeping you seated despite your surprised attempt at getting up. “You can’t pretend anymore.” 

Nesta’s hands joined Cassian’s, twining together to hold you down, her chin resting on your shoulder. How did she move like that, so silent and stealthy? “I know what you need now, you need to be fucked and filled, isn’t that right?” 

You keened, leaning back into her arms, allowing her hands to travel up to your breasts and circle your nipples again. 

“I said, isn’t that right?” Her hand moved over your collarbone, coming to rest at the base of your throat where her fingers pressed down on your pulse. 

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes - I - I need to be -,” you stuttered, still reluctant to give in to the omega side of you that really did need this, needed to have their body used and filled and be given pleasure. 

“Come on.” Cassian thrust up inside, his cock so deep you were sure you could see it in your belly.

“I need to be fucked and filled.” 

“Good girl.” Nesta rewarded you with a kiss to your cheek. “Now for the last part, you need to be fucked and filled, by…” 

“I need to be fucked and filled by my Alphas. Oh Gods, please, please, I need to move.” You ground your hips again and Cassian obliged, fucking up into you, his feet planted on the bed to keep him steady. 

Behind you, Nesta moved again, her fingers tracing down your spine and the scent of lavender oil filling the room. Her hands cupped your bottom, helping to lift and lower you onto Cassian’s cock, controlling each movement. Cassian’s hands covered hers, spreading you open and pulling you forwards so you were completely exposed to Nesta’s hungry gaze. 

“Such a pretty pussy.” She dipped her finger into the slick flowing over Cassian’s cock. You couldn’t stop the feel of it, dripping between you, easing the way for him. Her finger returned, circling the tight pucker of muscle Cassian’s exploring hands exposed. “Let’s see if we can fill you some more.” 

The first press of her fingertip felt strange, but as she curled and worked her finger deeper pleasure spread up from your back. She was right, it felt so good to be full, a second finger joined her first, scissoring until the pressure was gone and only pleasure remained. 

“Nesta - please,” you begged incoherently, unsure of what you even needed from her, chasing the feeling. 

“Shhh, sweetheart.” Her fingers were replaced by the still body warm head of the crystal toy. 

“Fuck, Nes, push it in harder.” Cassian gritted his teeth, his grip moving you lightly and then you both shouted in pleasure, the toy pushing against the thin wall separating it from his cock. 

“So full, so full, so ful,-” you babbled, much to Nesta’s amusement, her dark laugh in your ear had you clenching around the hard cocks inside of you. 

Cassian’s hand took over from Nesta’s keeping the toy inside and allowing you the freedom to grind down onto him again. 

Free to move, Nesta appeared before you. 

“There’s our little cock hungry omega, nice and full and satisfied.” She ran a finger around your open mouth before dipping it inside to tap your tongue. “Now you stay there,” she instructed, moving up the bed to hover over Cassian. 

“Yes, Nes, you come here. Been working so hard to take care of our little omega, come and sit down.” 

Cassian’s face vanished between Nesta’s thighs, the muscles tensing and relaxing as she lowered herself. You watched, fascinated, as her perfect face twisted with pleasure, the controlled look in her eyes and crooked smile gone. She closed her eyes, cupping her breasts, rolling her nipples as she’d done to yours. You ached to reach out and touch her, to lick the dusky bud again, to taste her and feel her, to run your fingers through her hair. 

Your hand twitched forwards, grabbing her thigh and squeezing. Nesta moaned in return, her eyes shooting open and locking with you while she rolled her hips, taking her pleasure from her mate, using his mouth and tongue until she bit her bottom lip and tipped her head back, panting and moaning through her release. 

She fell backwards onto the bed, resting her head on her arm and continuing to gently circle her nipple, riding the waves of her orgasm. 

You watched, catching Cassian’s eyes as he too turned to view his mate, her legs spread and wet pussy glistening in the candle light. With a tap to your hip, you reached up, releasing his cock with an obscene squelch, but you had no ability to be humiliated by your position, half full of her toy, crawling towards her as if possessed. Your own legs were so wet they slid as you moved and Cassian took the opportunity to nip at your thigh as you made your way to Nesta. 

She was smiling, long lashes fluttering on her cheeks as she rested, but she must have felt you approaching because she beckoned you on, cupping the back of your head and pulling you down for a sloppy kiss. 

Her long fingers gathered your slick, smearing it over your folds, your clit, back towards where the toy still split you open, and cupped your cheeks, parting them for Cassian. 

The male was behind you again and gave the toy a few experimental thrusts, revelling in the way you whimpered and moaned, depending on how he angled the head. You could practically feel his grin when he pressed a kiss to the base of your spine, nipping at the round globe of your ass and pulling the toy free, leaving it to roll off the bed onto the thick rug. 

You whined, completely empty and still needy, humping forwards into Nesta’s teasing hand, her kisses just as biting, just as harsh, sucking your bottom lip between her teeth and worrying the delicate flesh. 

Cassian’s voice was gravelly when he whispered in your ear, “Ask us nicely, omega. Ask us to fill your wet little cunt and your greedy hole.” 

“Please, please, fill me, please, fuck me!” you panted, hips moving of their own accord, seeking any friction they could find. 

Nesta cupped your cheek. “Open your eyes.” You obliged, meeting her own lust filled gaze. “Now beg.” 

You cried out in frustration, “Please, Alpha, please I need it, I need you, I can’t do it - help me - please - help me. Fuck me, please, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me-” You dropped your forehead to hers, pleading, praying. 

Then, you felt Cassian’s cock again, not parting your folds as he’d done before, but running it between your cheeks and pressing against the gap left by the crystal toy. 

“You want me to fuck you?” he asked again.

“Yes, Alpha, fuck me, take me, please, I need your cock - I need - ahh.” The first push was long and deep, he was merciless, splitting you open. 

“Gods, you feel good everywhere, ‘mega.” Cassian’s kisses returned, wet and hot along your shoulders. “Nesta -,” he grunted and the female slid her hand back between your legs, shoving three fingers into your already sloppy pussy without hesitation. 

“Look how well you take us, sweetheart. Letting your Alphas use all of your holes like a good little omega. Just a hole for us to fuck aren’t you?” she cooed, pinching your cheeks again. “Cassian’s been dying to fuck me like this for years, haven’t you?” He only grunted in answer, his pace increasing. You could barely breathe now, every inhale punched out of you by the force of his fucking. “But I wouldn’t let him. Good job we’ve got our own little plaything now. You take him so well, made for it, aren’t you?” she continued to tease and you burned with the humiliation of it, the deliciously dirty feeling of being spread open, used, vulnerable under their hands. And yet you had never felt pleasure like it, the complete surrender of your thoughts, your body, to your two Alphas. 

The thought had you tingling. Were they yours now? Were you theirs? 

Cassian’s pace slowed, his hips faltering as he hurtled towards his release. His long hair brushed against your cheek. “Never letting you go, omega. You’re ours now.” His teeth scrapped down the side of your neck and you shivered, making the decision in a split second, and tilting your head to the side. Cassian’s bite was strong, his teeth breaking your skin quickly before his tongue lapped over the sore spot. He nuzzled into you as he sucked the bruising kiss, inhaling your scent. 

Nesta reached up, guiding your head towards Cassian’s and exposing the other side of your throat before biting down too. Her claim was rougher, her teeth tasting, exploring before biting down and sucking. 

“Yours - yours - yours -” You allowed their claiming bites to consume you, to wash over your senses, and felt the calm of being mated rising to meet you, buoying you up. 

“Good little omega,” Nesta praised, tapping your cheek until you opened your eyes. Hers were surprisingly soft, her mouth wet and lips pink. 

“Such a good - fuck - good fucking omega, our omega,” Cassian grunted, sending you over the edge.

“Yours - yours - yours -” Your orgasm ran towards you and you clenched down on them both, forcing Nesta’s fingers out as your walls rippled. You bent and sucked on her collarbone, needing something, anything, to ground you. 

“Fuck -” Cassian followed, his hips driving forward, pushing you down further into Nesta’s chest and painting you with his release. His cock swelled, impossibly large and pressing against your entrance. His cum leaked around the edges of his knot, mixing with your own release in a sticky, claiming, mess. There’d be no denying your feelings now. 

He withdrew slowly, carefully, his hand cupping your swollen sex as he did and the gentleness of the touch surprised you. 

The three of you lay there, panting and sweating, slick soaked and satisfied until Cassian broke the silence. 

“Does this mean you’ll sleep in the damn bed now?” You turned into his chest, resting your face against his tattoos, and laughed, nodding. Behind you, Nesta curled over your back and smiled into your shoulder. 

“Good.”

[holylulusworld]

Cabin at the lake (2)

Summary: You have a much-needed vacation. There’s only one problem…

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Assistant!Reader

Warnings: SB being an ass, tension, arguments, vacation hijacking (is that a thing?), sexual themes (talk about), misogynism

A/N: Another drabble.

Cabin at the lake (1)

Cabin at the lake masterlist

While you are still fuming, Soldier Boy cocks his head and yawns loudly. If you didn’t mishear, he farted in your company too. Well, at least you’re outside; the fresh air will help you.

“Didn’t you forget something, sweetness?” Soldier Boy blinks his eyes open to look at you with these piercing green eyes.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” you huff and cross your arms over your chest. If he hijacks your vacation, he can eat shit. You won’t follow his orders within the next fourteen days. “I guess you forgot that I’m still on vacation.”

“You don’t get to just go on vacation while people out there need me,” Soldier Boy huffs. “You shouldn’t be so selfish, Y/N. What’d people think about you, hearing you go on a vacation while everyone out there suffers.”

You square your jaw. This man is the epitome of selfishness.

“You are the hero, not me,” you say instead of everything burning your tongue. “I’m a mere employee, getting your coffee and sending your one-nighters home. You cannot expect me to be around three hundred sixty-five days a year.”

“Three-hundred sixty-six days this year,” he grins at you. “Now, get me my omelet. I’m hungry. And you better not forget the good stuff. I need something to smoke and a drink.”

“I do not smoke,” you snap at your boss. “I hope you don’t expect me to have drugs at my cabin either.”

“I know you are a bad girl hiding the good stuff from me,” Soldier Boy suddenly jumps up to stalk toward you. “I’ll go for a swim. When I get out, I want that omelet, sweetness. If I do not smell eggs soon, you will not sit properly for a week.”

“You’ve got to be shitt—” Your words die in your throat watching Soldier Boy get out of his suit. He smirks when you open your mouth, but no words come out. He’s shamelessly walking around naked. “What are you doing? You’ll scare the fishes.”

“Well then, I’ll catch a few and you can cook them for me,” he turns around to show you his naked ass. “I still want the eggs, though.”

“You’ve got two dangling between your legs. How about you eat them.” You chuckle at your stupid joke. “I won’t cook for you. You better leave my ground.” You turn around and stalk toward the cabin.

If he won’t leave, you’ll simply lock him out.

“I heard that!” He calls after you. “Yeah, that’s a good girl. Going inside to cook for her man.”

You stop in your tracks to turn around and give him the finger. “Fuck. YOU!”

Storming inside your cabin you slam the door shut, locking it. If you would’ve thought this through, you’d remember that he’d simply burst the door open. Right now, you are too angry and pissed to even think straight.

“He can’t just come here and ruin my vacation!”

You hear a loud bang, wood splits and the door falls to the ground with a loud thud. Now seconds later, Soldier Boy casually walks inside your cabin, still naked. He carries the door he ripped out of its angles tugged under his arm.

“Fuck, the water is perfect,” he drops the door to the ground, making you flinch. “Did you believe for one second this will keep me out?” He furrows his brows while searching your face.

“I had hoped you’ve got some decency left and won’t go any further,” you throw your hands up. “I can’t believe you came here to order me around during my well-deserved vacation.”

“Well-deserved?” He snickers. “You’d only ever deserve vacation if you sucked my dick good. Getting me coffee and shit doesn’t make you a good employee.”

“You are so…infuriating!” You throw your teacup at him. He laughs when it hits him right in the chest, only to fall to the ground. “I wish I could just throw you out of my life…wait…” You suddenly realize there is a way to get rid of him. “I quit.”

You suddenly can breathe again. You’re giddy and jump up and down. Even though you’ve got no job any longer, you feel much better.

“Now get off my lawn.”

“Hah, that’s even better,” Soldier Boy stalks toward you with a big grin on his face. “Now HR won’t go after my balls when I ruin your sweet cunt…”

Part 3

Tags in reblog.

[sc0tters]

Play Ball | Jack Hughes & Trevor Zegras

summary: when quinn leaves his best friend with his brother and his best friend what’s the worst that could happen?

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, threesome, p in v (unprotected), oral (both fem and m receiving), swearing, degradation.

word count: 2.55k

authors note: truly this is the first time I am taking the blame for the chaos that ensued in this piece. Truly I have no words but, enjoy.

It seemed like the boys were oblivious to the fact that you what they were doing.

Jack and Trevor watched as you soaked in the sun.

Your little bikini that honestly made it seem like you may as well have not been wearing anything. Headphones plugged into your ears playing Taylor Swift as you tapped your fingers on the grass beside you.

The boys had been playing football and all of a sudden the game got a whole lot less interesting when they saw you laying on that towel.

Trevor had noticed you first but it was Jack who made the move. The football landed up at your side causing you to open your eyes “pass the ball.” Jack smiled as you looked at him.

His hands angled to catch the ball “I don’t play J,” you had tried playing with Quinn before and it always ended up wrong.

Your words made Jack laugh “c’mon I’ll teach you.” He held his hand out to help you up.

Quinn and Luke had gone into town leaving you three at the house “how hard could this be?” You sighed taking the ball from his hand.

For the first twelve minutes you actually held your own ground. But of course that was only going to last for so long.

Before you knew it you were brought down to the grass with Jack caging his arms around you “I should get back to Trev.” He mumbled as his chain hit your chin.

Your breath wavered as he stared down at you “don’t-” you mumbled trying to stop him as you ran your fingers up his torso. The two of you stayed still until you eventually made the move.

It seemed that years of him pining over you was finally going to pay off as your lips locked with his “did I walk in on something?” Trevor cleared his throat as Jack turned his head.

Your cheeks turned pink as you two had been caught “n-no you didn’t.” You gasped as Jacks lips dropped to your neck ever so lightly teasing the skin.

Trevor smirked as he walked closer to you both “I’m starting to feel a little left out.” The Ducks player watched his friend get up leaving you on the grass as they stared at you.

Eyes so strong it pressed into your soul as you propped yourself up onto your elbows “it’s not like that.” You shook your head “so you don’t think about us like that?” Jack smirked as they watched your thighs clench.

Trevor added on to what he had said “like you don’t get off to us in the shower?” His tongue ran over his lip as your face dropped “yeah we’ve heard that.” Being in the house with the boys at the end of three weeks without any sexual interaction you were at your wits end with it all.

So the hot and steamy shower was your place to get some pleasure “it was a one time thing.” You were quiet as your voice was barely a whisper “so if I felt your pretty little swim bottoms they wouldn’t be wet?” Jack helped you up yet you still weren’t looking at them.

Trevor’s fingers ran up your arm “answer the question.” His tone were soft but his words were serious.

All you could do was nod “Quinn can’t-” you shook your head as Jack’s thumb dragged along your jaw forcing you to look up at him “he won’t.” His lips kissed your lips again “we won’t say a word.” Trevor added as Jack let his hands rest on your cheeks.

Jack smiled “say the word and we’ll move this inside.” His offer was one that had you moving your legs quicker than either boy could imagine.

The three of you stood in the room that the two boys were sharing “I need you.” You whined as Trevor let his fingers pull at the string of your bikini bottoms “been waiting to get you of these.” He groaned as he threw them to the floor leaving you in your bikini top.

The middle Hughes boy wrapped his hand around his cock as he watched you with his friend “what do you think Quinn would say about this?” Your long time best friend who thought you were busy sunbathing would have lost it if he knew you were instead with his brother and friend.

You groaned seeing Jack “I want your cock.” You blurted out making him smirk “you’re gonna have to wait for it baby.” Trevor spun you around causing your face to land in the comforter beneath you.

Your hands pushed your upper body off of the duvet “god you are soaked.” He groaned licking a line up your slit “shit!” As your mouth went open Jack let his cock slide into it giving you what you wanted.

His hands locked into your hair as both boys made themselves comfortable with Trevor now settling between your thighs “this what you been thinking bout in the shower?” Jack smirked as your head bobbed when your tongue swirled around his cock.

You nodded as your hands grabbed at Jack’s sides steadying you “so good.” Your whine came out muffled as most of it was swallowed by his opportunity to let his cock slide deeper into your mouth.

Trevor’s tongue was focusing on your cunt but his nose continued to hit your clit as your rode his face “such a sweet cunt.” His words sent shivers up your spine making you moan around Jack’s cock.

The room felt dirty as it soaked in the sounds of a secret that would make memories of a life time. Your throat occasionally constricted around the boy sending him into a plethora of pleasure making him look down at you through hooded eyes “you’re so good my girl.” He cooed causing your cunt to clench around his best friends tongue.

The ducks player form beneath you smirked “she likes it when your praise her like that.” Trevor confessed shifting his attention up to your clit for a bit making your thighs shake from around his head.

Despite how vulnerable you were sitting there riding one guys face as his hands wrapped around your thighs whilst his best friend had his cock shoved down your throat. Yet you felt exhilarating “used to think you were such an innocent girl.” Jack’s words pulled you out of your thoughts as you looked up at him through your wet eyes with now gloopy mascara.

He smiled, not one that you had seen before but rather one that held a hidden meaning behind it so of course you didn’t know how Jack was picturing his cock in your cunt instead of Trevor’s tongue.

That it was he who was making you moan like that “but here you are as a dirty little slut for us both.” Jack was close and he could tell that the way you were driving your hips against Trevor’s face were not just for your own amusement as you now made the effort to hit your clit with his nose more frequently.

As the younger boys hands tightened around your hair like you didn’t think possible you cried out in pleasure as Trevor made you feel a mind numbing orgasm “don’t stop baby.” Jack groaned watching as you stuck your tongue out flat when he pulled his cock out of your mouth.

The gesture as small as it seemed made him smirk “god you’re so dirty.” He cooed as his release landed on your tongue with only a few drops landing on the sides of your face “let me clean that up.” Jack offered with a smile as his thumb dragged over your skin capturing every last drop before he brought the digit to your mouth.

“Suck on it like a good girl f’me.”

His order rang through your ears as you obliged letting his finger replace where his cock once was less than a minute ago. You sucked just the same as you had with the previous item and it made Jack weak in the knees “I need her pussy.” Now that comment was clearly directed to Trevor but it made you smirk as you let go of Jacks finger with a pop “come and get it.” You knew you were playing with fire there.

And that was why you weren’t surprised when you landed up with Jack behind you gracefully lining his cock up with your soaked cunt as Trevor was in front of you pressing his lips against your skin “please Jack.” You whined feeling only the tip of his dick slide in.

It made the Ducks player nip at your collarbone “somehow you’re still so fucking needy after all we’ve given you.” His words were condescending as his attention focused on your neck.

Jack however was there to soothe your nerves “we make her like that Z, let’s enjoy it.” Jack managed to turn your head so you could kiss him and in that moment he took the opportunity to bottom you out.

His cock was different to what you were used to, thicker yet it still managed to keep its length “holy shit J.” You swore as your torso would have fallen forward if it wasn’t for Trevor being there to stop you.

The older boy smirked as you locked eyes with him “I would usually want to tease you.” Trevor’s voice filled you with anticipation as his breath fanned against your skin letting him kiss the shell of your ear.

Jack watched on as he felt himself grow green with envy at how you soaked up Trevor’s words “but right now I need those pretty little lips around my cock.” You could spend hours with Trevor arguing about the ins and outs of society, yet here was one argument you were willing to let him win.

So you nodded lowering your head also giving both boys a moment to finally look at each other. What was originally meant to be a moment between to bros or shall I say fellas.

Had now turned into a competition of who could make you feel the best. Yet with the whimpers coming out of Trevor’s mouth as he watched you drag your tongue across his chiseled abs made it seem like you had joined in on this competition too.

But Jacks hand that was swiftly brought down to your ass reminded you of where you stood in this “don’t go teasing him now princess.” Jack clicked his tongue “not when you wouldn’t want me to do that to you.” Those words made you turn your head to him “sorry Jacky.” Your lips formed a pout.

Yet that wasn’t enough for him “say it to him.” Jack motioned to his friend who looked at you with a smile “sorry Z.” Your words were soft yet clearly heard as his hand caressed your cheek “‘ts okay.” Trevor nodded watching to praise the heavens as you finally wrapped your swollen lips around his achingly sore cock.

The Devils player had already established a comfortable pace as your cunt had adjusted to his size meaning that your were able to focus on the boy in front of you “this cunt was made for me.” Jack’s words made you purr sending vibrations through Trevor.

The Hughes boy let his hand find its place on your already swollen clit “think the boys might be home soon.” The truth was that they had been gone for a while now so as much as both of these boys loved the sound of you gagging on Trevor. And your cunt squelching as Jack forced his bare cock deeper into your pussy making you both enjoy the intimate moment, you all knew you would have to get a move on if you didn’t want to get caught.

Whilst the idea would have formed a pool in your panties, this was no sight for your best friend to walk in on “dude this mouth is-” Trevor cut himself off with a groan as he realised that all of his ideas of you being innocent were thrown out of the window with how skilled your mouth was.

How it was warm and wet enough that it could as well have been your cunt with the way you sucked his cock dry “perfect place for a guy to finish.” Jack’s words were in agreement as he tried to act like he wasn’t in a state of bliss “keep clenching that pretty pussy of yours around me.” The sounds of slapping skin echoed from the walls acting like an enforcement to maintain the level of pleasure that you were all feeling.

Trevor had began fucking your face at one point as he knew that he was close to coming and it was clearly meant to leave your throat raw tomorrow “I’m going to fucking-shit baby!” His hands pulled at your hair as he kept your nose flushed against his torso as he felt your throat swallow his release.

From behind you the scene wasn’t nearly as calm “play with those pretty breasts of hers.” Jack ordered bringing his friend back down from his orgasm as Jack used his free hand to bring your back to his chest.

Your clit was puffy as his fingers hadn’t let up on the sensitive nub “please.” You cried out feeling the coil in your stomach.

Trevor ran his finger over your lip “look at our pretty little baby.” He cooed bringing his lips to your nipple.

The peaked bud hardened as it felt his tongue come into contact with it “she isn’t far now.” Jack could sense you were about to go but neither boy would let you.

Not yet.

Your brain grew clouded as Trevor used his other hand in your free nipple to apply for both sides to feel pleasure “I’m gonna come.” You announced feeling your eyes flutter as Jacks cock throbbed from between your legs.

It made him click his tongue “not so fast.” He licked the shell of your ear “beg for it.” His words carried into your ear and down to your cunt.

You whined in response “try again.” Jack shook his head “please Jack, let me come.” You pleaded as your legs began to shake.

Trevor’s curls raked through your fingers “I’ll be here just for you two however you want if you let me come.” It was clear you only had so much in you.

Finally Jack gave you the words that you wanted to hear “go milk my cock with that pretty little pussy of yours so I can full you with my come.” The kiss he pressed against your neck sent you into overdrive.

Your eyes screwed shut as stars covered your eye lights “god don’t stop!” You cried out making Jack come too “wasn’t planning on it princess.” He let out a grunt as his cock release it’s hot sticky ropes into your cunt making it mix with your previous release when Jack fucked you through your orgasm “enough please.” You begged shaking your head as Trevor moved his lips to your other nipple.

It made the boy laugh “look at you thinking you had a say.” Jack smirked until you heard a noise echo upstairs “we’re home!”

“get her clothes.”

[evansbby]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

part iv - just like animals

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

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

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

Series Masterlist 

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

Pregnant.

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

You’re pregnant. With Steve’s baby.

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

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

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

“Where did you go?”

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

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

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

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

“Y-Yeah.”

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

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

How he’d cheated on you.

How you’d begged him not to leave you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

“H-Hello? Peter?”

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

“Oh my God. Are you okay?!”

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

“I’m… I…Peter, I…”

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“JUST SHUT UP!”

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

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

“Please! It hurts!”

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

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

“Fine. Suit yourself, omega slut.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Th-They wouldn’t let me in.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Bullshit.”

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

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

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

“Don’t fucking joke with her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would he leave you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

“Omega. Answer me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t hate you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t drive me away–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll leave me.”

“I won’t.”

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

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

“Mark me too.”

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

You don’t know what to say.

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

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

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

“Make me yours.” He repeats.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve isn’t here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Should you trust him?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh-What? No, I wasn’t–”

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

“No–”

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

“Steve, no–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was the alpha losing control?

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“STOP!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know!”

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

“I DON’T KNOW!”

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

“I wouldn’t hit you.”

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

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

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

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

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

***  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Omega?”

“Yes, Steve?”

“I’m sorry. For all of it.”

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

***

“He’s not in his room, Steve.”

“I don’t fucking care.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve leaves without another word.

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

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

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

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

It’s you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that it matters right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve, I’m pregnant.”

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

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

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

“You’re pregnant?” He repeats.

“Yes, I am.”

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

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

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

Proud. He’s proud. Proud of you.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes pop open, “Wh-What?”

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

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

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

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

You squirm, “Y-Yes?”

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

“Y-Yes, you can drink it.”

Another pinch. “Say it properly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And maybe – just maybe – he does mean it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow harshly, “P-Please.”

“Please what, sweet girl?”

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

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

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

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

“Alpha please!” You mewl softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Marry me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” You whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“HEY!”

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

“Peter! What are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, Peter–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Peter, no, I–”

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

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

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

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

[artdcnaldson]

im so glad youre matching my freak on this (patricks sister au) because im actually so not normal about it. i havent thought about anything else all day, many more thoughts are in my head about this, i need art so badly

his restraint grows wearier every time you're on his bed in your slutty outfits making puppy eyes at him. its only gotten worse since he let it slip that he does want you, but just cant. it seems like youre in his room every day now. tiny shorts or even worse, tiny tennis skirts. the kind where he can see another one of many lacy pairs of panties every time you adjust yourself. he makes it a point to always sit at his desk, or even stand, he needs the distance.

one night hes dragging you back from a stupid frat party, one of those with a dress up theme thats really just an excuse to have the girls dress extra slutty, and oh boy did you deliver. youre not too drunk, but hes carrying you over his shoulder regardless, its just faster that way. (youre not complaining, you get to stare at his ass the whole way back to his dorm) and maybe youre acting more drunk than you are, just so he wont bring you to your own room, but he'll have to let you sleep in his.

then you're laying in his bed, surrounded by his scent, maybe even dressed in another one of his shirts and maybe just a pair of panties. watching him as he gets ready for bed (he always refuses to share the bed with you but sleeps on thr carpet on his floor instead), brushing his teeth, changing his shirt, complaining about some guy who was trying too hard to flirt with you, getting too close to you. its all too much, you really cant help it, maybe you can even blame the few shots of tequila your friends had made you take earlier that night, but your hand trails down under the sheets. you cant help but touch yourself, gently, barely even feeling it. but youre just so turned on by him, being this close to him, his possessiveness. whats a girl to do!!!!

he hears the little moan you let out, he tries so hard to ignore it. to control himself. truly hes not surprised. he keeps talking, pretending he didnt hear you. but when he turns around, its just too much. he cant help but tell you how pathetic youre being, he means for it to come out sterner, meaner, it was meant to deter you. instead he hears you moan again, so pathetic. it shouldnt egg him on, he should tell you to stop, to leave, to pull your hand out of your damn panties. he should tell you to quit being such a slut. why is it turning you on when he tells you youre being pathetic? why are you moaning louder when he says you can never have his cock? he cant help but taunt you :(((

(i can keep going, just ask lol)

GODDDDDD this au has me salivating so badly it’s crazy like this ask made me go take a lap, had to walk on my treadmill and clear my head. I feel so insane rn

Bc why IS he getting so weird and protective over you? Why is he mad that you were practically dry humping some loser from the fucking swim team that you looked like a fucking slut out there, and you should be embarrassed, honestly.

And god, he really does sound pissed about it, and you’re still pretty buzzed from the party, too, everything feels really slow and hazy and there’s an insistent throbbing need between your thighs. you’re so wet it’s soaking through the skimpy, slutty panties you were wearing.

“You should really fucking have some standards.”

Mhmm. Yeah. You should. He should totally keep telling you all about it. You sigh, slip your fingers between your thighs— all wet and sticky and sensitive. You moan, just barely, but he freezes a little. You can see the muscles in his shoulders flexing as he grips the edges of the sink. But then he’s right back to bitching at you.

“What the fuck did you think was gonna happen, huh? Did you think I’d go over there and rip you off of that dickhead? That I’d get so jealous I’d finally fuck you like you want?”

You moan, louder, and that’s when he turns. His jaw is set, clenched as he watches your hand move beneath the sheets. You’re completely unabashed as he watches you, he watches your legs spread slightly, can tell your fingers have gone from toying with your clit to being stuffed inside your pussy.

And he laughs. “God, this is really fucking pathetic, you know that, don’t you?”

You nod, whimper out a, “mhmm.” You’re looking at him through half-lidded eyes, all hazy and soft. And your hand is moving faster beneath the blankets, and god, he wants to move it so fucking badly. Wants to watch, to see how wet you are for him.

It would be so easy to just rip that blanket off— his fingers are fucking twitching with the need to. He almost does, almost loses himself in it.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking desperate,” he says, arms crossed, trying to ignore how fucking good you sound now that you’re not muffling your moans. “You think fucking yourself in my bed is going to change anything? It just makes you look like a slut. You know how embarrassed I’d be if you were my sister? You’re fucking lucky I don’t tell Patrick what you’re up to.”

You whine, pouting as you thrust your fingers deeper inside your cunt. You’re so close already, just want to cum, want him to rip off the blankets and fuck you into the mattress. “Please,” you whine.

“Please? You think I’m going to fuck up my friendship with Patrick for pussy?” He’s being so mean, you’re fucking dripping down your wrist with how soaked you are. “I’m never going to fuck you. You just need to grow up and fucking accept it.”

You cum as he watches you, thighs trembling and closing around your hand. Fingers all slick and sticky when you finally slip them from your cunt. He’s staring at you, completely indiscernible. And he laughs again. Whatever. You can go ten more rounds if he just keeps talking to you.

[badaspebble]

Hi, lovely! I hope that you're doing well! May I please request smut fic with possessive/protective and jealous Bada x fem!reader? Where reader is Bada's gf but also a dancer, she's on team Bebe and like her gf, she captures the attention of many competitors, especially a certain Wolf'lo member by the name of Haechi.. who takes every chance she gets to flirt or touch her. Bada doesn't take to kindly to it when Haechi touches readers waist during a battle.

Hey baby! I’m doing good. I hope this is to your liking. Not very long unfortunately. :( There might be some mistakes in grammar.

I’m using the mobile app cause my laptop broke 🤓 yall gon’ have to stick with me

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“All Mine”

Bada Lee x fem!reader

Summary - Being on SWF2 was great. Meeting new people who were also considered legends was an added plus. You caught many eyes, but one set of eyes in particular stayed on you the entire time. Bada notices, and so do you. Deciding to dance with Haechi wasn’t to make Bada jealous, but still. It’s only fair that Bada should do something about it.

Warnings: 18+ themes (Dom!Bada, possessive!Bada, semi-public sex, jealously, dirty talk, praise, cunnilingus, probably more idk)

Word count: 2.6k

MDNI

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Being able to perform in Street Women Fighter was a reward in itself. That, paired with the fact you're with your girlfriend, was a dream come true. The women around you were known to be talented, so you were slightly nervous too. You knew that you danced well. It was shown through the numerous battles you had. You could tell they loved your dancing style, but still couldn’t help it when you compared yourself to the women who were legends. Doubt started to creep inside the corners of your mind.

“Baby?” A voice snapped you back to the present, realizing it was your girlfriend, Bada.

You looked at her and smiled, before subtly checking her out. You always loved the way she wore her hats.

“Yeah?” You asked, scooting a little closer to her, wanting to feel her warmth. Her eyes scan your face, giving you the comfort that another pair of eyes didn’t. You could feel a burning stare from somebody sitting in the section of Wolf’lo, knowing it was Haechi.

Bada smiled, bringing her hand around your waist subtly, pulling you more into her as she could sense your growing unease. “You okay baby? We don’t have to do this if you aren’t feeling too well.”

You smiled at her concern, feeling your heart beat faster as she puts her hand on your head and guides it towards her shoulder. “I’m okay…just nervous.” You giggle, reassuring her some more when you catch her concern growing. “I pinky promise.”

Bada sighed, her shoulders moving dramatically. “Are you sure? If somebody is making you uncomfortable, just tell me.” She said, giving a side eye to a specific crew. She clenched her jaw and looked back at you, her eyes swimming with subtle jealously.

You smirked and decided to tease her, loving her possessive side. “Are you jealous? Hm…” You pause dramatically, looking over at Haechi. “Isn’t she as tall as you? That’s so cool.” You say, leaning in slightly.

She smirked and looked down, looking at her lap. Before she could respond, your name was called by Daniel. As you got up, sweeping yourself off, you heard Bada mutter. “I’m better though…”

You turned around as you were walking towards the middle of the room, seeing her pout childishly. You giggled before turning back.

You blocked out Daniel’s voice, opting to look around at your opponents. When it came time for you to speak, you didn’t hesitate to choose Haechi to dance against. Her style was smooth, and she had a very strong aura.

Bada scrunched her eyebrows together, staring at Haechi as she smirked and walked towards you. Bada clenched her jaw, running her tongue over her teeth when she saw how Haechi didn’t hesitate to hug you.

You were taken aback when she went in for a hug, but accepted it nonetheless. You didn’t want to take this competition too seriously, opting for a more laid back, fun type of vibe. You saw Haechi subtly bite her lip out of the corner of your eye, but ignored it.

“Didn’t even hesitate to choose me, huh?” Haechi whispered with a smirk, stepping back slowly to give you room as your music started playing.

You smiled and ignored her, wanting your entire focus to be on your dancing.

Bada widened her eyes as you started dancing, quickly noticing how everybody else propped themselves up and paid close attention to you. Their gaze no longer tired.

‘Vibez’ by Zayn started playing, and you didn’t hesitate to start rolling your hips. Your aura changed completely, adding a hint of sexiness to your otherwise chill persona. The crews were screaming as you danced on Haechi, with her not wasting anytime before dancing back on you.

Bada looked at the scene with a clenched jaw. She took a deep breath before looking around her crew, hoping for one of them to take her mind off of the dancing in front of her. Her eyes rolled as she realized all of them were giving 110% of their attention to you. She looked back just in time to see you twerk on Haechi. Bada took a deep breath again, seeing Haechi’s hands on your waist and lower back.

You bit your lip, completely embracing the music. You noticed Haechi’s hands, but you let her be. You couldn’t help but to drink up Bada’s expression. Her eyes were dark, her leg was bouncing up and down. You giggled as you could see her jaw flex repeatedly.

Before you knew it, your dance was over. Haechi bit her bottom lip as she got ready to dance, wanting to impress you. Her own music started playing, and she immediately started doing impressive footwork to slide over towards you. Nodding your head, making a ‘stank’ face as you realized how good her moves were. It wasn’t long before she started incorporating touches in her dancing, dragging her hands along your body.

She didn’t have much time to do so, but she did one last move where she hooked her finger on your chin, making you look up towards her. Bada saw this and clenched her jaw, moving around uncomfortably.

After some brief talk by Daniel, the hosts revealed their cards. You won 2-1. As the judges were talking, you accidentally started blocking them out once you realized Bada’s stare. You made eye contact with her and she squinted, licking her lips while she tilted her head. You could see her breathing heavily, holding back the urge to interrupt the judges in order to drag you back to the team’s room.

Bada looked at the judges impatiently, wanting them to hurry up. Did they really need to talk this much? Her leg was still moving rapidly, and her tongue was poking her cheek. It felt like forever when they were finally done. In a mere 3 seconds, Bada was right next to you, pushing Haechi away subtly.

“Maybe you should back up, yeah?” Bada said possessively, not waiting for a response before she grabs your hand and walks you towards the team’s room.

You loved when she was possessive, but you loved even more when she would do the little things when she was in this mood, like locking your pinkies together which you noticed she did as soon as her hand touched yours.

Bada made sure to avoid the people trying to talk to you, wanting to hurry up and feel her girlfriend. The walk was quick, and before you knew it, you were thrown onto the couch.

“Who does she think she is? Touching what’s mine like that? In front of me too.” Bada muttered, not saying anything to you as she impatiently starts running her hands along your body. You were about to speak before you heard her mutter again. “All mine. Every single part of you belongs to me.”

She sat on your legs, rubbing your waist, as well as your thighs slowly, before digging her nails into your skin and dragging down towards your cunt. Hearing your breathing already picking up, she stops what she’s doing and removes her hands. “So fucking needy..” Bada mutters as she plays with your nipples through your shirt. She quickly realized that it wasn’t what she wanted, as she hurriedly took it off you, basically moving you around by herself. She pushed your sports bra up, freeing your breasts.

You whined at the way she was looking at you. Her eyes were dark and half-lidded. They were borderline watery as she held herself back from you. “Babe? Fuck, please do something. Need you so bad…” You whispered with broken moans. Bada didn’t hesitate to start playing with your nipples. She started soft at first, gently rubbing over them before she started letting herself go. She would apply just the right amount of pressure, making sure her nails gently scraped them.

You gasped as your body started tingling with each pass of her fingers on your nipples. “Gonna make you feel so good…can’t wait to mark you up.” Bada says before immediately attacking your neck. Her plump lips trailed to your pulse point, not hesitating to mark your neck. “Taste so good baby..”

Your body withered on the soft couch, squeezing your thighs together to get some friction. Your cunt was sticky, already dripping as you waited for Bada.

Bada moved herself down your legs some, removing her hands from your breasts. She rubbed your thighs more thoroughly, making sure to grip them harshly as she did so.

“So fucking sexy…god, you just can’t help but flaunt it, huh? Gotta show everybody how good you look? Show yourself off with my marks all over you.” Bada says possessively while her hands play with the hem of your shorts, pulling the waistband before letting it snap back. You moaned at the sensation, wanting her to hurry up.

“Bada-“ You were cut off when she pulled your shorts down slowly, leaving them wrapped around your ankles and leaving you in your panties.

“Shut up and be patient. Can’t make you feel as good when I’m rushing.” She says quietly, eyes locked onto how damp your panties are. She bit her lip as she ran her fingers near your cunt.

Your breath stuttered at her slight teasing. Her cold fingers are almost where you want her, but not quite. “Please…’m sorry baby. Please touch me.” You begged, hoping it would make her go faster.

“What’d I say?” Bada growled slightly, slapping your thigh. “Need to savor what Haechi wishes she had…”

After she did that, Bada slowly brought her fingers near your cunt, making sure to let her nails run across your skin. It wasn’t long before she ran her fingers across your cunt, applying light pressure when she passed over your clit.

“So fucking wet for me, hm? You’re not like this for anybody else. All this is only for me.” She said, not giving you time to respond as she took your panties off, not wanting to ruin them despite her mood. Bada licked her lips as she saw your thighs trembling already. She gets closer to your cunt before bringing her nimble fingers to play with your wetness. Her moan startles you, making you pay closer attention at how worked up she is.

“Can you please make me feel good Bada? Let Haechi hear how good you make me feel…please” You mumble out, too distracted when you see her playing with your wetness. She continues to bite her lip as she finally starts circling your clit gently. “Such a good girl for me…so obedient when you’re about to get fucked.” Bada mutters into your thigh before giving it a chaste kiss.

You open your mouth as she puts more pressure on your clit, slowly licking your folds. “Bada…please baby..” You beg, not sure for what. It seems to work as Bada continues playing with your clit before slowly putting her tongue inside of your cunt, making sure to gather up as much of your wetness as she could.

The sound of her tongue inside of your cunt is downright filthy. It doesn’t help that her moans are loud even when her face is smothered between your thighs.

“Taste so fuckin’ good. Could stay like this forever. Love making you feel like this.” Bada mumbled into your cunt. The vibrations from doing so made you moan loudly. You were going to cover your mouth, but you felt like letting Bada hear your moans would reassure her.

Bada heard you try to say something, but your words were incoherent. Your mind was mush as Bada curled her tongue, before moving up to your clit and sucking harshly. Her fingers teased your hole for a couple seconds before she could resist no longer. She slipped her middle finger inside slowly, barely curling it before she slipped her ring finger inside as well. Bada smirked as she sucked your clit, hearing your breathing almost stop as you struggled to get sounds out due to the pleasure.

“Too fucking good…’s too much-“ You whined out before getting interrupted as her fingers started doing a ‘come hither motion’ while also scissoring them. A talent she found out she could do on accident. Bada felt a gush of wetness trickling towards the middle of her palm. She so badly wanted to lap it up, but her focus on your clit was more important.

The sounds in the room were loud. Moans and breathless whispers could be heard, along with Bada’s fingers entering and leaving your cunt.

“F-fuck babe…gonna make a mess all over your pretty face.” You said, digging your head into the armrest as your hands flew to her hair, tugging on it. “Makin’ me feel so good..” You whispered as you lost your breath quickly.

Bada giggled into your cunt as you pulsed around her fingers. “Could Haechi make you feel like this? Would you let her mark you up?”

You couldn’t answer her as her fingers went faster. You mumbled nothings into the air as you felt the pressure begin to grow stronger.

She gently nipped your sensitive clit. “You should answer me if you want to ‘make a mess all over my pretty face’, right?” She mocked you.

You let out a silent scream from the mix of pain and pleasure, eyes rolling back as your lower stomach heats up quick.

“Please please please please…” You mumble a million times, saying anything to cum. “Please make me cum baby…Haechi doesn’t even compare to you, I promise.” You basically yelled out as Bada full on laughed into your cunt, going faster.

“Go on, cum for me. Be my good girl and make a mess for me.” Bada leaned back, still fingering you as your wetness coated her hand. You borderline screamed as you finally let go. She didn’t hold back like before, not wasting another second to lap up her slick covered hand. Bada was breathing heavily by the time she stopped. She would’ve kept going if it wasn’t for your hand tugging her hair.

Bada climbed up to you, sitting on your waist before leaning down and bumping noses with you. “Are you okay?” She asked, cupping your cheek and rubbing her thumb across it.

You nodded, still out of breath. “Yeah…’m more than okay baby. Thank you for making me feel so good.” You rub your nose against hers before giggling.

Bada sighed and sat up, looking at your bruised skin. “She better take the hint this time…” She muttered, running her fingers across your neck and slowly down towards your breasts. Bada looked into your eyes, giving you a naughty smirk. You bit your lip and put your hands on her waist, slowly starting to make her grind on your stomach. Before you guys could go any further, you heard a knock.

“Uhm…….” A long silence followed. “Are you guys done yet? We’re kind of hungry.” You both heard Lusher’s voice, with multiple giggles following suit. Your face started to heat up and you looked at Bada. The tips of her ears were starting to get red as she also looked at you with wide eyes.

You giggled quietly at her because she looked like an embarrassed puppy. “Come on, I’m kind of hungry too.” You whisper, slowly rubbing her thighs. Bada sighed in disappointment before helping you clean yourself up. You looked at her one more time, almost laughing in her face as she pouted adorably.

Bada opened the door, the tips of her ears getting even more red as BEBE just stared at you guys. The silence was long and awkward, until Tatter spoke up.

“So anyways…Latrice was eating up out there!”

You gave up and laughed at her attempt to switch the subject, making Bada hit you on the arm before giving an awkward smile. You guys followed them, staying towards the back as you and your group walked somewhere to get food. You looked at Bada, seeing her look behind everybody. Looking back too, you see Haechi staring at you. Bada smirked, lightly smacking your ass as she mouthed ‘this bitch is mine’ before turning away. You blushed, walking faster to catch up with the group.

[mawlaeina]

отчаянный | Desperate

(adj.) having a great need or desire for something.

🍊 content: Obsessed! Childe x fem! reader, implied red string of fate (sort of)

✦ content w: religious themes (if you squint), praise and worship (if you squint?), implied violence and murder by Childe, general angst

Childe had to fight.

Ajax was not older than 14 years old when he suddenly fell into the abyss on a regular snowy day in Snezhnaya. He closed his eyes for one moment, and the next thing he knew he was falling down towards dark colored waters of what looked like a dimly lit cave.

In seconds, Ajax felt himself crashing down harshly against the surface of the water before he began to slowly sink. He shivered, the water constantly staying icy and cold even when he was below the surface, and there was also an uncanny atmosphere that he felt as he continued to sink.

In a panic, Ajax swam up—the feeling of such a heavy weight on his entire body almost choked him off of oxygen as he managed to break to the surface of the water.

He gasps for air as he steadies himself before be swims to some nearby land. He clings to the sandy ground once he was out of the water, choking and gasping as the density grew greater on his body—as if it was going to crush his lungs and ribs at any given moment.

But he manages to grow accustomed to it a bit as he composes himself once more. He lets out an exasperated sigh as he asks himself what was happening.

He looked around for a moment and realized that the entire place was packed with wolves with shadow-like features that were focused on him upon his arrival.

The creatures were simply staring at Ajax with some kind of dark madness and hunger—albeit slow, some were already approaching him on the little island that he was on.

He had nothing to use to defend himself with—no armor, no shield, no weapons. When one of the wolves finally dashed forward with a jaw slightly hanging and ready to bite, all Ajax could think of was to run.

And he did run away—his legs moving light and fast as he tried to avoid all the other wolves that were coming in front of him. He was running even though his legs were tired, even when his lungs started to feel like they were bursting again.

For a moment, he was happy as he managed to lose sight of the wolves.

That was until he tripped.

He tripped over his own feet and began to roll down painfully against the rough and rigid ground. Once he finally landed at the bottom, his body had taken multiple fractures on the torso, and bleeding wounds on his face and arms.

Ajax groaned in pain, reaching and placing his hands on his hair before weakly clenching his hand on it. Ajax could hear the wolves coming as they howl with distorted voices from the direction he was just running away from.

He began to panic again, his breathing frantic and scattered all over the place. He closed his eyes for a moment as the darkness began to settle in his vision. For a moment he saw glimpses of mental images of his family—his mother, father, older and younger siblings.

Was this it? Was this his demise? He felt like crying, he didn’t want to die, not now, not when he was this young.

Why? Why? Why?

He questions desperately to the gods and celestia.

Fight.

His eyes opened, widening in shock as he wore a stunned expression on his face. He heard someone—the voice clear as day, with words spoken firmly as the frozen ice of Snezhnayan fjords, yet it was somehow spoken with the same desperation that he felt.

Fight, please. I’m begging you.

The voice’s tone broke momentarily, and Ajax could somehow picture someone in front of him as he lay on the ground—the person pleading, their warm and ticklish tears fell from their eyes and onto Ajax’s cheeks. Though their face was blurry and could be vaguely seen, he sensed some familiarity coming from them—even though he remembers no one with such a voice.

I don’t want you to die.

In an instant, Ajax rolls to the side as he avoids a claw strike from a wolf that had already came up to him. His back bumps into a nearby stone wall, but he manages to take a sharp rock before standing up with haste.

His hands are tensed, clenching the sharp stone and wielding it like a kitchen knife. Despite the state of his body, he felt the urge, the need to move and survive against the monster.

Ajax dashes forward as the shadow-like wolf lunges towards him. Before the ruined animal could bite his head off, he slides under the wolf and stabs its hide before slicing through its underbelly using the stone. Once the wolf’s body passes over him, it collapses onto the ground with a pool of blood quickly forming under its lower half.

For a moment, there was some sort of adrenaline that came over Ajax—one that made him feel stronger, more confident to survive, and his fresh kill ignited a newly sense of pride of winning.

He liked how it felt for some reason.

It wasn’t until the adrenaline wore off rather quickly. He coughed out some blood as he drops the sharp bloody stone to the ground, just before he fell to his knees—eventually, his body collapses onto the ground just like the wolf before passing out.

—

Childe had to survive.

When Ajax woke up, he found himself laying on the ground—his body covered in bandages. He groaned as the pain began to strike all over his body. He looked around for a moment and saw numerous wolves laying dead and bloodied everywhere.

He doesn’t remember doing any of this, and it somehow bothered him.

The next thing he knew, he was took in by a stranger who introduced herself as Skirk. He was taught multiple skills on how to survive in this place, which was called the Abyss. Skirk teaches Ajax how to survive and pass through the regions of the Abyss unharmed, and how to wield his hydro vision in the abyss—even though he wasn’t aware that he received a vision at all in the first place.

After a month of rigorous and intense training, Skirk teaches Ajax to wield Foul Legacy. For the first few tries, transforming and using Foul Legacy for even just a few seconds put such a heavy strain on his body, and he eventually ended up in critical condition every time.

When he passes out, he dreamt or had short visions. He saw someone making tea on a kitchen counter, their faces were blurry and could be vaguely seen but he could feel some sort of warmth emanating from them. Ajax somehow knew it was the same person who talked some sense into him on the first day that he fell into the Abyss.

He holds his hand out, reaching it gently towards the person.

He wakes up, his breathing heavy as he sweats profusely. Skirk was confused as to why Ajax woke up in such a way, yet she dismisses it as an insignificant nightmare that the young child probably had.

However, in Ajax’s case, he wanted more of that warmth that he felt just now. How long has it been since he’d touch something warm after falling into the cold Abyss? He doesn’t recall, he doesn’t remember—so, naturally, as a young adolescent, he wanted more of it, he craved it.

From then on, Ajax began to train harder, harsher—pushing his body to his limits everyday. He got stronger, and that’s what he told himself what his training was for—to get stronger, to be stronger.

To conquer the world.

A merely shallow form of self-manipulation to deny a more selfish reason he had in mind.

In truth, he wanted to see and feel more of that person, and he did—so long as he passed out. He passes out more frequently now as he continuously extends his limits—pushing himself until his body was in pain from just moving a hand.

Everytime he would pass out, he would constantly try to reach for them when they weren’t looking, he would try to see their face clearer, hear their voice clearer as they talked to him for even just a second. Eventually, he realizes they were a year younger or older than him—if not, they were perhaps the same age as he was.

But as another month passed, he began to pass out less, and when he did pass out, if wouldn’t be long enough to see that person again. While it confirmed that he did get stronger, he was irritated by the absence of such a warm presence. The only light that he had in the Abyss, and now it felt like he was losing it.

Stronger, I need to get stronger.

Ajax thought to himself angrily as he began to train even without Skirk. He continued to push his limits—training in the dark and heavy waters until his lungs almost gave out, training against stronger enemies using his Foul Legacy form, training against every other weapon that he could find in the Abyss. His bloodlust began to grow by the day as he relentlessly hunted the monsters that resided in the Abyss.

Yet for some reason, he no longer saw that person when he passed out. Did he recover too quickly? Were they going to leave him behind now? They wouldn’t right? Right?

He could feel himself losing his sanity, his thoughts full of silent pleas for that person to appear at least once every other day or so.

No, no, no, please. Don’t leave me here, come back.

COME BACK!

—

Childe needed to breathe.

When Ajax came back to Teyvat, he returned to his family cabin in Snezhnaya—to which he was welcomed back warmly and gladly with thankful sobs from his family members. Much to his surprise, he had been only missing for 3 days in Teyvat despite having trained for 3 months in the Abyss.

While Ajax missed his family so much, his thoughts were still plagued with the unknown warmth that he felt in the Abyss. Yes, he enjoyed the warm hugs and such affectionate love coming from his family, he enjoyed the warm sensation of his hands when faced to the fire of the cabin fireplace—but those, for some odd reason, could not compare to the comfort that he felt and witnessed first hand in the Abyss.

They were simply not enough.

It was a week after his return that Ajax looked up to the sky. The last shimmering gloss on his eyes reflected the clear blue skies of Snezhnaya that day, and he wondered if that was just the Abyss playing tricks on his head.

He sighed as he plopped down on the snowy ground. The Snezhnayan cold no longer affected him—not when the Abyss conditioned him with colder temperatures.

His hands twitch for a moment, just like it had been for the last week. He needed to move, to fight. He thought he could control himself, that he could return to just being his mother and father’s son.

But he couldn’t, and on that day, he ended up massacring all the ruin guards he could find in his region using his Foul Legacy form.

Ajax, stop, your body can’t handle any more stress.

His eyes widened after hearing a worried voice just as he was about to move to the next region—a small wave of warmth passes by him, the sensation was weak but familiar. He pauses for a moment, waiting for them to speak again—but there was only silence.

Where are you?

He looked around the snowy terrain, still in his Foul Legacy form. It took him a few seconds of silence before his body began to feel heavy—coughing up blood and collapsing onto the snow as he turns back into his normal self.

Where are you?

He repeats inside his head with desperation. He stood up and began to walk around, his other leg limping as he does so. His mouth was slightly agape, taking in shallow breaths of the thin air as blood trickled down his mouth.

Please, please. Answer me, where are you?

When he finally turned his head, he saw you.

Clear as day, warm as the sun.

His breath hitched as he felt your hand on his cheeks, your warmth constantly emanating and burning through his cold skin. He felt like crying right then and there, but he wondered if you were real—if this was real. He raised his hand to touch yours, and it did.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, your voice full of worry—yet its so soothing to his ears. It’s that same voice that Ajax could never mistake for someone else. Ajax just stares at you for a minute, too stunned to speak as he takes in your face. “Hey, you’re badly injured, we should take you home.” You suggest.

Ajax seemed to realize something for a moment. While he knew that the person he’s seen and heard in the Abyss was you, you were acting like a stranger to him—it confused him.

“You’re injured.” Ajax pointed out abruptly as he gently takes your hand off his cheeks and spins you around lightly, which catches you off guard for a second. “Who did this to you?” He asks, his voice low and angry as he runs a finger down your back—your spine crawls at the painful sensation.

“I got hit by a ruin guard earlier and passed out by that tree earlier.” You explained rather awkwardly. “But I’m fine now, so you there’s nothing to worry about. We should get you home since you’re in an even worse condition.” You say as you turned around to face him. “Can you tell me where you live? I’ll help you get there.”

Ajax tells you where he lives, and it surprises both of you that you two were neighbors. What a coincidence, how come you never saw in each other?

It was already midnight when Ajax returned to his family cabin, with you supporting him from the side. His mother was relieved to see his son back, but her concerned grew when she saw him covered in dirt and blood. She thanked you for accompanying him during his journey home.

You told them that you were going to leave, and Ajax couldn’t help but feel devastated by the idea—so he speaks to his mother, saying how you were also injured.

Naturally, as a loving and concerned adult that she was, Ajax’s mother told you that she could at least treat your injuries before you leave, and that you could stay the night in their cabin and return home the next morning.

The look of reluctance painted on your face somehow ticked something inside Ajax’s mind. He never questioned about what happened in the Abyss—how he heard your voice when he was on the brink of death, when he was barely going to survive. He simply concluded that it just happened, that your fates were intertwined so strongly that your voice reached him even when the two of you were worlds apart.

Don’t you feel the same? Why do you want to leave?

He wanted to be angry, but he can’t find it in himself to be angry at you—not when he thinks you’ve done so much for him, not when you saved him from the brink of death in the Abyss. You were his salvation, his one and only savior in this world—not even a single person from celestia came to put him back into his senses at the time, and for that he no longer believes in them.

He believes in you.

When you finally agreed to his mother’s offer, he felt glad—an understatement to the joyful emotion that he had swirling in his chest. He lets you sleep inside his room after being treated, and when you fell asleep, he took it upon himself to watch you.

He was kneeling on the ground, arms and head resting on the side of the bed. He continues to watch you in silence for a moment before he briefly caresses your cheek.

My god.

He lifts himself up a bit, enough that he hovered over your sleeping face. He plants a chaste kiss on your forehead, feeling the comforting warmth that you had stinging his cold lips.

My universe.

—

Childe suffocated.

When he finally got recruited into the fatui, he was given a nickname, “Childe”.

Acknowledged by the Tsaritsa and the organization for having great strength at such a young age, he was given a chance to be promoted—to become a harbinger, but he had to sacrifice something or someone.

He was made to choose.

Blinded by the loyalty that he swore, he chose to sacrifice someone who would get in the way of the fatui ambition that he had. You.

With fates intertwined as strong as celestia, he was told by the Fatui that you would hinder his progress, his strength.

You were a distraction.

While Childe did return to be a fairly normal person ever since he had you by his side, the warmth that he felt from you slowly faded into something more common. Your warm hugs no longer felt special over time—it was as if you turned into another fireplace for him to stare at.

Snezhnaya was not as cold as the Abyss, and so he disregarded the need for something as warm as you.

So there he stood, in front of you with a knife held dangerously close to your neck. His hands trembled, and he seemingly fought every cell of his body from hesitating.

I just have to kill her.

He thought to himself, his inner voice lacking any sense of determination to do so.

You, yourself, was not surprised that he had come to kill you.

You knew this day would come, and you just hoped it wouldn’t happen to his family. While you were clearly against him joining the Fatui, you said nothing—a decision that you’ve come to regret every day.

As his hands trembled, you smiled sadly—closing your eyes as you held his hands. For a moment, his eyes widened, and everything turned silent as the sound of blood splattered on the ground.

Childe did not come home to his family that day like he said he would.

—

Childe has forgotten how to breathe.

“What do you mean you don’t know about big sister?” Teucer pouted, and Childe simply laughed confusedly at the young ginger.

“Who are you talking about, Teucer?” Childe asks his younger brother without a single shine of sunlight reflecting his eyes.

“You know who I’m talking about!”

“Big sister Tonia?” Childe raises a brow, but Teucer shakes his head with a frown—he was getting upset with his big brother now.

“The one you always brought to go ice fishing with us.” Childe doesn’t know what his younger brother was talking about.

“I don’t recall bringing anyone other than you when we go ice fishing by the lake, Teucer.” Childe spoke honestly and knelt down to Teucer’s level. “Buddy, are you sure you aren’t tired?” Childe asks worriedly.

Teucer shakes his head, still frowning.

Everything was so odd for Childe ever since he woke up this morning. Everyone in his family cabin had asked him about someone he doesn’t know about—his family claims that the two of them were close, very close, and they wondered why Childe no longer remembers them.

Who on earth were they talking about?

Childe asks himself as he holds Teucer’s hand as they walk to the frozen lake nearby. He wonders who that person was, and how he forgot about them if they were so close.

Once they arrived to the frozen lake, Childe couldn’t help but stare at the scenery for a moment. It was as if he was stunned for a moment from the aching sensation that he deeply felt in his chest.

It was the same lake that he’d visited in his entire life, yet for some reason…

Why is it so cold?

✦ this is kind of bad.. idk how to feel about this

✦ I didn’t want to write this because I hate angst + my sweet boy, but if I suffer I’m dragging everyone else with me

✦ would rather praise and worship him instead ngl

✦ there’s gonna be an extended version of this if I don’t get lazy soon so look out for that

✦ Yes, there’s ivantill reference there

[theoceansluvr]

Percy Jackson x Cheerleader! Reader

warnings; injuries author's note; YIPPEE ANOTHER REQUEST ! i literally can't write unless i have one or like.. i get really obsessed with a character T^T

right off the bat, im a MAJOR sports player Percy enjoyer

like outside of the swim team !

so, keeping that in min, you guys are like the superior jock/cheerleader couple 🗣️🗣️

whenever you compete he's literally decked out in the team colors and yelling

amazed anytime you do any flips, like jaw dropped to the GROUND at how amazing you look doing it

the most awestruck person in the room no matter how many times he's watched you

your personally hype man as per usual !

stretches with you a lot, mainly because he's trying to figure out how you can lift your leg so high up with it hurting..

(i've had the same question for YEARS)

likes fluffing out your pom poms whenever you get new ones :33

he just likes the sound they make when you shake them

if im incorporating my die hard sports player Percy headcanon, you have a little keychain with his number and he has one with a lil pompom

had the upmost respect for tumbling it's not even funny

like he knows he'd probably break his arm if he tried to jump back on his arm like that

constantly at the gym together because God knows how often sports players have to work out

i think he'd wear one of your hair ties all the time, even a scrunchie

he's an incredibly big show off when it comes to you 😦

you definitely got him super into watching college cheer performances(FAMU ON TOP !!)

since sprains are super common in cheer, he's definitely making sure you don't overdo it so you can avoid things like that

if you do manage to sprain an ankle or anything, he's FORCING you to stay in the couch and rest it

bro is notttt playing when it comes to this either

when you're healed up, he makes sure you ease yourself back into it instead of just jumping back in y'know ?

idk if I put this last time but🥁🥁🥁 CHEER THEMED PROMPOSAL !!!

if y'all couldn't tell i adore cute hoco/promposals 😞

matching bead bracelets in the team colors ??? matching bead bracelets in the team colors.

he never takes it off matter what and actively BRAGS about it to his teammates

"That's great but.. do you have matching bracelets together ? No ? That's what I thought."

they are tired of this man

jumping and screaming and kicking his feet whenever you win a comp !

picks you up and spins you around !!

many, MANY kisses of joy are a given

even if you lose, he's beyond proud of you and would rather you have lost having fun then have won and end up hurt or whatnot

not sure if this is exactly what you wanted anon, but i definitely tried !! ALSO THIS MADE ME CONSIDER CHEER TRYOUTS SO THANK YOU🗣️🗣️

[brewed-pangolin]

Fine I'll send another. Captain MacTavish ON THE BEACH. 🥵

I love the beach. I live on it during the summer. It's my second home, I swear. And the way the sea salt air and warm waters can cure the soul is something I just can't ignore with this man. I love this ask so much!!!

18+ MDNI Sexual Themes

You sat alone, comfortably in your beach chair with a cold beer in hand under a magenta colored sky as the sun set beyond the horizon of a turquoise painted surf.

The rhythmic sound of the waves synchronizing with the beat of your heart as the scent of sea salt and sunscreen etched itself into your skin.

The air was still warm, yet it carried a cool breeze off the waters edge as the slow curtain of dusk crept over the white sanded landscape.

It was perfect. A picturesque conclusion to a hot summer's day.

And off in the distance, with a Yeti tumblr of whisky in one hand and a cigar permanently clutched in his mouth, Captain MacTavish cast out his last line into the crashing surf and placed the warn grip seamlessly into its plastic holder dug into the sand.

The beach had done wonders for him since his retirement only a few years ago.

Soothed his war torn psyche with the constant ebb and flow of the tide. Molded his scars beneath a layer of sun kissed skin that further accentuated the seascape blue of his eyes and made every woman swoon with just a mere glance and a smile.

Yet it was here, under the blanket of encroaching night that you saw the man he had truly become.

A man at peace with himself. Letting the setting sun and roll of the tide absolve him of his past and breathe fresh life into his lungs at dawn's first light.

You couldn't pull your eyes off him anymore, and you were no longer ashamed about how your stare lingered on him.

The loss of sunlight elongating the shadows within the curves of his musculature. Accented by the seafoam swim trunks that hung perfectly on his hips. Creating a more defined sculpture of his frame as he effortlessly strutted along the sand to take his place beside you.

"How long you gonna fish for tonight, John?" You asked quietly, rim of the beer can caressing your bottom lip.

"As long as you'll let me, m'lass."

You smiled, watching him raise his tumbler in cheers to take a healthy swig while gently tapping the ash of his cigar into an empty can.

"Guess we'll be here all night, then."

"Aye. Looks that way."

As he relaxed back in his Tommy Bahama chair, your hand reached out to instinctually cusp the back of his head. Thumb and index finger pressing into the back off his skull, pulling a slight groan from his chest as your touch soothed his sun drenched soul.

"Careful, lass. Y'know what that skillful touch a'yers does to me."

"Mhmm. It's a good thing we brought the boat."

Soap rolled his eyes, glancing between your smirking expression and the vessel anchored just beyond the last sandbar.

"Which one ya love more, hm? The boat, or me?"

You raised a brow at his testing inquiry, firmly pressing into the back curve of his jaw with your fingertips as a hushed murmur fell from your lips.

"Don't ask questions you know the answer to, John. Won't get you anywhere."

Soap growled in response. Placing his hand on your thigh and giving your flesh a firm yet playful grip.

"May have ta shorten th'fishing trip then. Looks like I gotta assert my claim over you again."

"Claim over me, John?"

"Aye. Ain't no way I'm losing you to a gas guzzling bàta."

-

You both lasted no more than another twenty minutes before loading everything into the skiff and jetting back to his prized vessel. Where Soap MacTavish made good to his word and staked his claim over you once again.

Spreading you over every flat surface beneath the bow and docking his thickened cock repeatedly into the deep cove of your cunt.

Master of the Swell Masterlist

This is but a taste of the new WIP I have in store for you, Soap Squad. Johnny's got the 4Runner, the Captain's got a yacht. And goddman, do I have plans to rock that boat.

Tagging those who showed interest. Let me know if you liked to be tagged for further posts. Much love 💛

@deadbranch @ohgeesoap @astraluminaaa @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world @d3athtr4psworld @ghosts-goldendoodle @homicidal-slvt @shotmrmiller @glitterypirateduck @macravishedbymactavish @sofasoap @tacticalanxiety @random-thot-generator @writeforfandoms

[slashbitch2]

blood, betrayal and granola bars PT2

part one Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader W.C: 7.9k Words

The following day you both walked with a renewed energy, snacking on berries that Natalie scavenged and sharing out painkillers from the first aid kit. With the forest sloping downwards, some of the pressure was eased from your aching feet, while the thick snow that invaded your boots thinned out. Still, several times you slipped on the icy surface. Several times Nat laughed at you.

Eventually you reached a river running through the valley, which was flowing beyond its banks, having only recently thawed from the freeze. The water was deeper than usual and moving too fast to swim through. It was the first real obstacle you had encountered on the journey, and yet while Natalie only saw it as something to overcome, you saw opportunity…

“There is no way that’s going to work.” The redhead called down to you. She was sat further away, watching amusedly as you approached the bank. “And if you fall in, I’m not going to save you.”

You grasped securely onto the stick you had found and sharpened with a piece of flint. A rudimentary tool, but one you were proud of assembling. “So, you’ll save me from a bomb but not a river?" 

“Not when that river is a series of freezing cold rapids.”

Upstream there was a rock jutting out, impeding the water around it. You decided to head towards it. “Haven’t you ever been to a theme park? The river rapid rides are always the best!” You called back to her.

“Actually, no.”

Momentarily distracted from the task at hand, you turned back to Nat, mouth agape. “You’ve been in America long enough to develop an accent, but not to go to a theme park?”

She shook her head. “In case you haven’t noticed, I live a rather busy life.”

“What? Does SHIELD not give you paid holiday?” Throughout the duration of your time together, you hadn’t really acknowledged each other’s opposing profession, let alone bring it up in conversation.

But it didn’t seem to deter Nat. “And HYDRA does?”  

“Actually…” Reluctantly, you tore your gaze away from her, raising the sharpened stick above your head. “Paid days off and health insurance. It’s not a bad deal.”

“In return for what? Committing countless assassinations, orchestrating the great conflicts of the world…”

“That’s not all that different from SHIELD.”

She huffed and paused for a second before speaking. “Maybe not. But as you said, at least SHIELD wasn’t founded on Nazi ideology.”

“Please, HYDRA came from SHIELD. It’s been there from the start- Besides, it’s not like we idealise that side of history.”

“Anymore.”

You glanced back at Natalie and saw the gleam in her eyes. You took a breath, shaking off the mild irritation that had risen within you during the debate, and focused back on your hunt.

A flash of silver swam by, disturbing the riverbed around it. The water clouded for a few seconds as you scanned the space for another glimpse of the fish, then threw the makeshift spear. Nothing. You could already picture Nat saying, “I told you so.”

You bent down to retrieve the spear before it was carried away by the current, the edge of your clothes getting soaked in the process. You shivered, clenching your jaw and trying to ignore the chill that suffused across your entire body.

Another splash of water, you threw the spear again. This time, instead of dirt from the riverbed clouding the water, red liquid did. You pulled the wooden stick out from the river, seeing a fish lodged on the sharp end of it.

“Told you so.” You said smugly,

Natalie was already looking at you, a mix of surprise and impressed. An inexplicable heat rose to your cheeks. Beyond just feeling proud of yourself, you found you enjoyed the way she gazed at you. If you were to ignore the circumstances, the continuous pain inflicting some part of your body and the general state of exhaustion, you couldn’t help but admit that you were enjoying your time with her.

Part of you longed to voice this thought. But instead, you opted to say, “I think it’s your turn to light a fire.”

Unfortunately, your clothes didn’t dry off until the end of the day. You had found a shallower section of the river to cross, yet that didn’t stop the bottom half of you to remain soaking wet. Although being at a lower altitude meant the snow had all but melted away, it did nothing to lessen the cold breeze which ate away at your energy, nor stop snow from lightly falling all around you.

The flakes were just beginning to settle on the ground as the sun started to set. By this point, you were ready to collapse quite literally anywhere when Nat pointed off into the distance.

“There!” She exclaimed. As much as you tried to focus in on where she was pointing, all you saw was a mound of rock sticking out of the forest floor. “Cave.”

Stifling a laugh at her inarticulate explanation, you squinted off into the distance yet were unable to see anything. “I know the last couple days have been tiring, but I still expected you to have more eloquence than a caveman…”  

She rolled her eyes at you then began marching over.

You trailed after her, mockingly saying, “Cave- ug. Go.”

But for all you mocked her, there was a section of carved out rock, providing the perfect shelter as the sunset clouded over with the promise of more snow. After a quick once over to confirm no other creatures resided inside, you began to set up for the night. On this occasion, you had a fire lit in no time, both huddling round it and sharing out the food you had gathered throughout the day.

The wind howled outside, whistling through the cave entrance. You couldn’t decide whether it was an eerily beautiful, or unsettling sound. The one thing you were certain of, however, was how thankful you were to have come across shelter. Endless light flurries of snow were being carried by gusts of winds, and you knew that despite their weightless appearance, the impact would sting against your skin like knives.

Shaking off that particular idea, you turned back to the fire, eyes scanning over the orange glow which illuminated every crack and crevice of the rock walls. Your gaze then fell to Natalie, who seemed lost in thought. You took the opportunity to trace over the defined lines of her profile, the strands of red hair that had come loose around her face and the mesmerising green of her eyes.

Despite having been surrounded by greenery the last couple days, you were able to admire the depth of their colour anew, as though you had never seen green meadows or fern forests before. And you were certain that should you never see any natural greenery again, the colour of her irises would be sufficient to replace it.

Suddenly, Nat was looking back at you. She licked her lips. Your eyes traced the subtle movement. Usually, holding her attention made you tense, but not in this case. Not when she was looking at you so openly, so hesitant yet curious. She stared at you as though you were a comforting presence amongst all of this. As though she were savouring something inevitable that was growing between you. Something you didn’t dare to name.

You tore your gaze back to the fire and cleared your throat, your mind racing for something to say.

“I’d kill for literally anything other than berries.” You complained, ending the silence between you.  

In comparison to the fish that you had caught and cooked earlier, which was anything but gourmet, the berries tasted like flavourless mush.

“Sure, I’ll just get out Uber-Eats and we’ll see what’s available.” Natalie said sarcastically, pulling her knees to her chest.

You noticed she was shivering and couldn’t help but soften at the sight.

“Do you want my jacket?”

Natalie glanced at the sand-coloured jacket you were currently wearing. It had already acquired several stains, which wasn’t a surprise seeing as you hadn’t taken it off once. Except for now, when you slowly slipped it off your shoulders, down your arms and held it out to her.

“What’s the catch?” She asked, suspiciously eyeing up the kind gesture.

You smirked. She already knew you too well.

“Your real name.” You replied simply.

Nat considered the trade for a second, then grabbed the jacket from you and pulled it on. She sat silent for a beat but kept her promise. “It’s Natasha.”

“Natasha?” You repeated. “Wow. Real creative secret alias. I never would’ve guessed.” You couldn’t help but laugh at her, the difference between her real and fake name being so minimal that it hardly mattered.

“Shut up.” Natasha leant back, a grin playing across her lips.

“What about your surname then? You persuaded, eager to use your generous moral high ground to find out as much about the enigmatic SHIELD agent as possible.

“Oh no, now that wasn’t part of the deal.” She raised an eyebrow cockily, though you could tell her words were sincere.

“Why? Is it topic secret knowledge?” You teased. “If you tell me then you’ll have to kill me?”

“Something like that.”

“Well now I’m only more curious.” As much as you wanted to know, something in her resigned posture and pleading expression persuaded you not to push the subject any further. “But save that piece of information for another day. I need some kind of motivation to keep going.”

You stood up, turning your back to Natasha and the fire to retrieve the first aid kit from your backpack. At multiple intervals during the day, you made sure to change the makeshift bandages and plasters covering your body in some attempt at keeping everything hygienic.

“Let me do that.” Natasha offered upon seeing what you were doing.

You looked over at her, surprised to find you weren’t suspicious in the slightest of her intentions. Despite the fact that you ought to be enemies, entirely distrustful of one another, you trusted Natasha with every bone in your body. Over the last couple days, a mix of necessity and basic empathy had sparked an unexpected alliance between the two of you.

No, not alliance. Friendship. Respect. Enjoyment of each other’s company. And you were certain Nat felt it too, and so allowed her to gently take the first aid kit from your hands.

You smiled at her gratefully, aware that your eyes likely conveyed a lot more than just that and sat back down in front of the fire. She crouched down behind you, hands lightly roaming over your combat suit and assessing where the darker stains of blood were. You flinched at the contact, then relaxed into her open palm.

“It’s just the cut on my upper back and the one along my forehead I’ve been treating.” You explained.

“Are you sure? There’s a rather nasty one down here as well.” She poked a finger into your side to prove a point, causing you to jerk away from the sudden sharp pain.

You hissed through your teeth as the pain subsided. “Yep. Gotta ration supplies.” Then tugged down the top of your suit to draw her attention back to the main injury.

“Alright, hold still.” She set to work unwrapping the bandage you had crudely looped round your shoulder and arm. “This part might sting a bit.” She warned, preparing the antiseptic.

You grimaced, assuming she was going to be much more thorough with the treatment than you had been.” Just get it over with.”

Natasha began delicately cleaning the cut, putting more consideration into the work then you had expected.

“You’ve clearly done this before.” You commented as she started rewrapping the bandage  in record time.

“And you haven’t?” She stood up to check, or rather admire, how much better the gauze was looking, then moved to sit in front of you and begin work on the gash along your forehead.

“Fair point.” You conceded, averting your gaze anywhere except Natasha. “But still, I’m glad it’s you out here with me.”

You risked a glance back to Nat. She was close. Closer than you had ever been to her before. If you shifted forwards even just an inch, your lips would brush. You could close the gap so easily. You could bring her impossibly closer. You could-

“Is that gratitude I’m hearing?” She smirked. Her voice was low and raspy, her gaze darting all over your face. Beyond the smirk, a newfound hope was etched into her expression, which only softened further as your eyes met, lessening the distance between you even more.

“Maybe.”

Natasha’s smirk only grew as her head titled down slightly. For a second, you thought she might lean in, that she might kiss you… Until her attention turned back to the first aid kit, abruptly ending the building tension between the two of you.

She returned to tending to your injuries, this time the gash along your forehead. “It’s a miracle this didn’t come with a concussion.” She muttered, stroking a finger along the bruised and bleeding skin.

Your lips drew back in a weary smile. You hadn’t thought back on the whole ordeal much- or truly appreciate how lucky you were to even be alive. You had Natasha to thank for that, not that you would ever be able to recognise her efforts. Once these couple days together were over, once you returned back to civilisation and back under HYDRAs radar, the safest thing to do would be to forget any of this ever happened. To forget Natasha, for her own safety.

Your heart sunk at the idea.

“You know, I think I’m entitled to some information about you.” Natasha stated suddenly.

“How come? I thought we had a deal. The jacket for your real name.”

“Yes, and now I’m fixing this mess of your attempt at first aid. I think you owe me.”

You tutted in lieu of shaking your head, trying to stay as still as you could. “I was going to offer rebandaging your shoulder in return.”

“I don’t accept.”

“No?”

“No.” She sat back on her heels. “Tell me something about yourself instead.”

You exhaled, racking your brain for an interesting enough fact about yourself that didn’t compromise your identity. “You’ll have to be more specific… There’s just too many interesting things about me to share in one night.” You joked.

“Too interesting or too top secret?”

“Both.”

“Fine.” Natasha thought for a moment, pursing her lips- which you admittedly were rather fixated on. “Tell me about your childhood.”

Now that was something you were happy to regale her with, and began happily recounting your early life in as much detail as you could remember. Natasha listened with rapt attention, even as she finished her first aid and packed everything up, even as you tended to her shoulder in return, her focus never left you. She laughed at all the right moments, offered comfort at the more difficult points and asked only the right questions.

And then, in the dying embers of the fire, Nat told you about her childhood. The Red Room, her temporary family, her tenure as a Black Widow assassin.

“Your surname.” You were laid down facing her in the fading light of the fire when it clicked. “You’re Natasha Romanov. SHIELD’s infamous Black widow. An Avenger.”

The identity of SHIELD’s most prolific assassin had only come to light recently with HYDRA unveiling their grand plan. As your organisation stepped into the limelight, so had Natasha, subsequently becoming a top priority for elimination. One of your superiors had told you that as long as she lived, so did the public’s support for SHIELD since she represented a link between the beloved Avengers and the secret service that she served.

Across from you, Natasha nodded; the movement almost imperceptible. Her pupils darted uncharacteristically nervously across your face trying to gauge how you would react. “Does that bother you?”

Of course it didn’t. Out here in the middle of nowhere, none of it mattered.

“No.”

She frowned. “Well, it should.”

“Well, it doesn’t.” You snapped, though not unkindly.

Natasha’s past didn’t matter to you. All that mattered was your time together, in which you had grown fond of her. The real her. Not some made up identity or emotionless figure, but her. You were trained well enough to recognise a liar, which she most certainly was not. Nobody would be able to keep up appearances in the circumstances you were under, let alone remain so authentic yet likeable. You had come to accept the unavoidable fact that she was your only motivation, your only solace through this harsh reality.

Even now, in this freezing cold cave in the middle of the Russian wilderness, you were at peace because of her. You shivered, unsure whether it was due to the cold, or the intense feelings you had repressed for so long.

“You’re cold.” Natasha commented, ever observant. She sat up. You realised it was to take off the jacket.

“No, don’t.” You swallowed, summoning up as much bravery as you had left. “Just- come here.” You patted the rock-hard ground next to you, and waited, watched as Natasha sized up the offer.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding when she shuffled over to you. Then found yourself at a loss of breath again when she lay down next to you. There was a moment of stillness, of darkness as the final light from the fire dwindled away. And then an arm stretched round your waist, hand resting at the base of your spine.

Instinctively, you scooted closer, turned so her front was against your back, and settled in the embrace instantly feeling warmer.

The two of you intertwined so perfectly, so comfortably. It felt so natural that you wondered how you had ever slept without her by your side before. Now that was a thought you really couldn’t entertain.

“For body heat.” You explained unnecessarily to the silence, more to convince yourself rather than ease any non-existent awkwardness about the situation.

Natasha hummed in agreement. The vibration sending a pleasant warmth through your own body. It was in this soft embrace that you fully relaxed, comforted by the gentle rise and fall of her chest, lulled to sleep by the rhythmic sound of her breathing, the warm breath fanning across the back of your neck.

It was perfect.

Natasha was the first one to wake up and carefully untangle herself from you. It wasn’t until sunlight started to filter into the cave that you awoke, bringing an end to the privacy of your own little world within the rocky walls. You panicked momentarily upon realising Nat was nowhere to be found, but upon reaching the entrance to the cave, she reappeared with a rejuvenated expression on her face.

“There’s smoke rising in the distance, just beyond that hill.” She pointed to the rather steep incline you had been dreading to face, from which sunlight was only just peaking over the summit. “I think we might be near a settlement.”

Her suggestion filled you with renewed hope, though you were hesitant to show it, too preoccupied by the question of what would happen once you reached civilisation. Despite everything, would Nat turn you over to SHIELD? Would she reveal what she had discovered about your identity? That would almost certainly get you into trouble. Perhaps even put your life at risk.

Or would you go your separate ways pretending to have never met? No- you were certain that was impossible.

“Alright then.” You gazed out at the horizon and preparing yourself for whatever awaited you. “Let’s get moving then.

To your relief, and dismay as much as you tried to deny it, Natasha was right. As you crested the hill, a small village sprawled out on the flats below. It consisted of about fifty houses, one factory with two soot covered chimneys, a handful of fields with some ill looking cows and one road leading in and out. Hardly a luxurious welcome back to civilisation, but what else were you expecting.

Natasha’s pace quickened as you drew nearer, something you really shouldn’t take personally, yet did. Any reasonable person would be relieved that your journey was coming to an end, would be counting themselves lucky to have survived and covered so much distance without any issues. In fact, you yourself were rather looking forward to a change of clothes, a comfortable bed and food that wasn’t foraged or hunted.

It was hypocritical of you to think, but jealousy and insecurity took Natasha’s eagerness as a sign that she was well and truly sick of you. Ready to leave you behind for good.

As you drew near to the outskirts, walking in between the old wooden houses scattered untidily about, a dog came running out to bark at your arrival. It leapt and bounded around you, signifying to all nearby that someone was arriving. You and Natasha walked side by side in silence, feeling the weight of several pairs of eyes tracking your movement. An old man sat on the porch of his house grudgingly and brazenly stared you down, a clear sign that the town didn’t usually see many visitors.

The whole atmosphere was uncomfortable.

“I’m assuming you speak Russian fluently.” You muttered to Nat, clenching your jaw and squaring back your shoulders.

“да.” Was her response, which she then translated as meaning “yes.”

“I gathered that.” You passed yet another resident who looked ready to spit on you, finding the town didn’t become more accommodating the further in you travelled. “Have at it then.” You gestured round the area which appeared to be the main street, although the name hardly did it justice.

There was no formal road or signs naming it, rather a more defined set of tire tracks that marked it as the most frequented street. One of the buildings had a sign labelling it as a grocery store, though was the smallest on the street. You could hardly imagine it would provide much beyond the basics- yet the main problem remained that you had no money on you, nor form of identification or anything.

Nonetheless, it was where Natasha went, and where you wordlessly followed her to.

As predicted, the shop didn’t have much produce to choose from. You browsed aimlessly as Nat spoke to the woman behind the counter, who was the first person not to glower at you. Although you understood some basic Russian, you left the two to talk, occasionally picking up on words you could just about decipher meaning from.

Nat returned to inform you that the woman- Anya- had a room above the shop that she was renting out, and that the town had an ATM located by the factory. Nat had already devised a plan that you would allow Anya to show you round while she went to retrieve cash. You truly had no idea how Nat planned to do so without a credit card, but decided it was best not to question her methods.

“I’ll be back in half an hour at most.” Natasha must have seen the doubt on your face as she informed you before departing.

“Alright.” You swallowed back your hesitancy and nodded, feeling rather strange to be separating from Nat for the first time in days. The urge to reach out and hug her suddenly arose, though you were quick to quell it. You smiled reassuringly instead, watching as she darted out the door and back into the cold Russian air.

“This way, yes?” Anya announced in strong accented English, beckoning for you to follow.

Trying your best to put on a grateful expression, you nodded and accompanied her up a rickety set of stairs to the spare room. Anya did her best to present the property, though the language barrier made it difficult, coupled with the fact you were anxiously glancing out the window every other minute in hopes of catching sight of the redhead returning. Although the spare room was just as she had described. A room. Nothing more, nothing less. One bed, one armchair, one dresser and a view out to the ‘main street.’

The bathroom was downstairs, next to the shop storage room- tad unhygienic- and was hardly an improvement on the amenities over the last few days. Still, you listened attentively and smiled politely as Anya gave her tour. She seemed grateful that someone was finally interested, and you couldn’t help but feel bad about the fact you were only going to rent it for a few days. But with no hotel in town, there were no alternatives.

You and Natasha hadn’t spoken about how this was all going to play out, being too afraid to have hope. Now that it was actually here, you found yourself rather conflicted, unable to plan further ahead than the next five minutes.

Anya ended her tour in the storage room, where you spotted something which sent a thrum of excitement suffusing through your body. A phone. Simply hanging from the wall, available for use at any time. Such a mundane object, and yet it brought you into the present, back to reality with a sudden jolt of realisation. All it would take was typing in the eleven digits, lifting the microphone to your mouth and speaking. But who would you call?

A family member? They would certainly be glad to hear from you, but likely unable to help your current situation.

The Embassy? You would be able to leave Russia more anonymously that way, making HYDRA less likely to question your lacking presence following the destruction of your base.

Or HYDRA themselves? They were the most obvious answer. You were a high ranking official, and they would willingly send aid to your location. You could be back in no time, with little effort beyond corroborating some account of the event. But that would put Natasha in danger.

After all you had been through together, you wouldn’t put her through that.

You at least owed that to her, and crushed the idea as quickly as it had come. You would allow her to disappear first, or for you to go your separate ways before contacting HYDRA.

You heard the door of the shop open, your heart skipping a beat at the sound knowing who it was likely to be.

“Hey.” Natasha grinned at you, her hands clutching literally wads of cash.

“Welcome home, honey.” You joked, watching as Nat placed the money down on the counter. She started counting out the correct amount, Anya’s eyes lighting up as she collected the bills. From what you had picked up from their earlier conversation, she had paid her about a month’s rent. There was no need to give her so much since you wouldn't be staying long, but your chest warmed in recognition of Nat’s considerate nature regardless.

“There’s a tiny restaurant in the middle of town- if you could call it that. The place is basically a shed in some guy’s back garden.” Nat explained. “But I was thinking we could go for dinner.”

“Dinner?” You repeated, face flushing at the connotations.

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “It’s a meal you have after lunch, in the evening before bed-“

“Very funny.” You interrupted with a roll of your eyes. “Yes, I would love to go to dinner with you, Miss Romanov.”

“Alright.” Nat smiled to herself, said something to Anya who nodded vehemently, then turned back to you. “But shower first?” She suggested, to which you gasped playfully.

“Not a fan of the Eau de forest?”  

She scrunched up her face.

“Fine. I get the hint.”

Showering had never felt so good. Even if the water was cold, and the shower floor was somehow sticky, it was still blissful…

For some extra cash, Anya had provided you with clean clothes from her own wardrobe, which meant you were able to change out of your disgusting, blood soaked, dirt encrusted combat suit and into fresh, clean fabric, which felt amazing. Even if her fashion sense was very traditional, the dress length very conservative, and Natasha finding your appearance highly amusing, you were grateful, nonetheless.

However, to your annoyance, Nat somehow looked perfectly normal in the style. Daresay she made it look good. But you weren’t jealous, instead considering yourself lucky that you were able to admire her at all.

The next couple hours were spent simply doing nothing. After your shower you all but collapsed into the old armchair in the corner of the room, which was so plush and easy to sink into that you had fallen asleep within five minutes. You would’ve preferred to take the bed, but had decided to leave it in case Nat wanted to sleep.

You weren’t sure whether she did or not, as next thing you knew, she was gently shaking you awake. The room had succumbed to darkness, apart from the last vestiges of sunset casting a purple hue through the window. For a brief second, you had no clue as to where you were until your gaze fell upon Natasha.

She was leaning over you, eyes blinking sleepily as she waited for you to jolt back to life. Your initial confusion became inconsequential at the sight of her; so open and vulnerable, so close to you in the fading sunlight. You swelled with pride at earning her trust so easily. It had come so naturally to you, in a way that it never had with anyone else, and in return, you cared for her more than you dared to admit.

“What time is it?” You pushed yourself into a seating position, if only to pull yourself closer to Nat.

“Six-thirty.” She answered. “We both fell asleep.”

You yawned, stretched and reluctantly stood up, ignoring the click of your overworked joints.

“Do you still want to go to dinner?” Nat asked.

You shot her an incredulous look. “Of course. I never pass up the opportunity for some fine Russian cuisine.”

“All naturally sourced, I’m assured. If you’re lucky there might even be buckthorn on the menu.”

You groaned. “If I even think about eating those damn berries ever again, I’ll throw up.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Yes. On you.”

Nat chuckled, grabbed something on the end of the bed and chucked it over to you.

“This jacket, seriously?” You stared at the sand-coloured item, which was almost brown by this point.

“Returned to you as promised.” She shrugged playfully.

“I’m not sure I want it back anymore.” Regardless, you tugged the jacket over the ridiculously puffy sleeves of the dress Anya had leant you. “How do I look?”

Her gaze swept from head to toe. You couldn’t help but bask in the attention.

“Like you’re ready for a night out on the town.” She concluded, opening the door for you.

The two of you strolled leisurely through the deserted town, both ignoring how each other’s stomachs cried at the promise of proper food. Part of you wanted to run to the restaurant, part of you wanted to savour your remaining time with Nat, and part of you was sensible enough to realise you had no idea where the establishment actually was.

In fact, you would’ve walked right past it if Nat hadn’t directed you inside.

The building was quite literally a wooden shed attached to some guy’s house, promising anything but the finest. The interior was rustic at best, the walls made from spruce logs stacked unevenly, and illuminated by a single string of fairy lights stretched across the square room. There was only space for three tables, with two already having been pushed to the side, and the third sat conveniently next to a space heater.

“Wow. Business is booming. Are you sure we’ll be able to get a table?” You joked, trying to spot the owner of the establishment. It felt like you had walked into someone’s home rather than a public restaurant.

“Give it a chance. It’s charming.”

At her reasoning, you focused on Nat in lieu of judging the place too harshly. You found that anywhere would have been good enough so long as she was there with you. Whether it be an uncomfortable cave, in the elements weathering the cold together, or in a secluded town with no real recognisable restaurant, you were able to appreciate it. Purely because of Natasha Romanoff. The woman who ought to be your enemy, yet you had never brought yourself to hate.

As you sat down on the rickety wooden chair opposite, you saw in her soft expression that she was the same. Neither said it but you both felt it.

Less than a minute after taking a seat, a waiter did emerge. He was perhaps the youngest person you had seen in town so far and spoke no English, but was kind. After leaving you with a handwritten note that was supposed to act as the menu, Nat briefly translated everything he had said. That he ran the place by himself, acting as waiter, cleaner and chef, and that you were the first customers he had seen in weeks besides his parents.

“You’re right. This place is charming.”

“Oh, so you’ve changed your mind now you feel bad?”

“Is that so wrong?” You leant forward on your elbow, trying to peer at the menu which Natasha was hiding behind. “I’m supporting local businesses.”

“How can you be supporting when I’m the one with the cash.” She held the menu out to you. “The wine is imported so it’s all in English.”

You took the sheet of paper from her. “I’ve been meaning to ask; how did you use the ATM without a card?” You skimmed down to the readable section, eyes flittering across the albeit short list of drinks.

“That’s a secret I’m afraid.”

“Of course, it is.”

The waiter returned and promptly took your orders. Not understanding enough Russian to read the menu, you had allowed Natasha to pick something out on your behalf. You weren’t really sure why, considering that in the grand scheme of things she knew nothing about your likes and dislikes, but that hadn’t seemed important at the time.

“I would ask how you are,” you said, denting a silence that hadn’t exactly been awkward, “but I think I already know the answer.”

“Tired.” She answered with a lopsided grin. “But I’m kind of used to it now.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t keep you up too long.”

Natasha didn’t say anything as the bottle of wine arrived in a chilled bucket, surprisingly well presented despite expectations. He poured out two glasses, bowed his head politely and left.

You rested your hand around the glass, studying the light golden colour of the liquid amplified by the warm lighting. In it, you saw sunrises over snowy hills, you saw dwindling firelight reflecting on cave walls, you saw the warmth of Natasha’s auburn hair.

A hand rested faintly atop of yours, fingers steadily seeking permission to intertwine with your own. Slowly, you untangled your grip around the stem of the glass, turned your hand over and felt her palm slide softly against yours. Neither you nor Natasha said anything, content to lose yourself in the humble contact.

After a minute, you glanced up at her, taken aback by the sad, far-away look on her face. You wondered whether it had dawned on her that your time together was running out, whether she was as distraught about that fact as you.

But no, that explanation didn’t suit her. A more fitting label would be regret.

“Hey.” You spoke softly as to draw her attention back in a gentle manner. “What exactly did you order for me?”

She didn’t glance up from your connected hands but smiled. “I thought it was meant to be a surprise.”

“Alright.” You conceded. “I trust you to pick out something good anyway.”

The palpable guilt on her face only worsened. A daunting sickness began to rise up through your chest, evoked by the chilling sensation that something here wasn’t quite right. Nonetheless, you were determined to enjoy yourself, and so persisted with the evening as though a tense suspicion wasn’t present in your mind at all times.

Natasha did eventually seem to snap out of whatever she was feeling, and conversation begun to flow easily between you both. You were able to talk about nothing and everything at the same time: only teasing, light-hearted conversation that you both held onto as if it were the most important thing you had heard in your entire life.

The waiter returned with your dishes about twenty minutes later. You still had no idea exactly what Nat had ordered for you, but it was delicious nonetheless, being the first real food that you had eaten in days. The meal filled a void you had become numb to in all you endured, a newfound energy returning to your body.

Placing down your knife and fork, you looked up at Natasha fondly, admiring her as though it were the last time. Her hair washed and recently dried fell down her shoulders in natural waves of red- almost the same shade as her lips, you noticed. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and her eyes appeared darker than usual, though the corners of her mouth quirked up. The cuts and bruises across her face remained, but with less contrast against the pale of her skin, as any mark of that last few days together was gradually fading.

And as they faded, your emotions- your hurt- only grew. For you soon realised what she had done.   

The sound of helicopter blades whirling through the crisp night air came into focus, grew closer and closer, louder and louder. You cocked your head to the side an inch to try and pinpoint from which direction they were approaching.

“Here comes the cavalry…” You murmured bitterly.

“Y/N.” Natasha reached out to firmly grab your hand, her grasp no longer tentative. “Don’t run.” She glared at you imploringly. Then added, quieter, “Please.”

You stared back at her, your jaw tightening as you willed any reaction to keep at bay. “Why?” Your eyes shone with betrayal. “Just for SHIELD to capture me? To interrogate and lock me up?”

“That won’t happen.” Despite the certainty of her words, her voice shook. “I won’t let them-“

“Then what?” You interrupted. “They let me go with my identity compromised? HYDRA would have me killed in a heartbeat.”

“Not under SHIELD surveillance. We can protect you.”

“And what kind of life would that be?”

“One with me.”

You paused, your mind going blank.

“It might not be perfect,” She continued. “But I don’t want to leave you just yet.”

You detected a hint of fear in her voice, recognising the toll it had taken on Nat to say what she truly felt. But as much as you felt the same, anger swirled around inside of you like fire, stoked by even the slightest of things. “I didn’t take you as such a selfish person.” You snapped.

You were wasting time, and shot up from your seat, throwing your napkin down onto the table. The building was likely to be imminently surrounded by SHIELD agents, you needed to escape before it was too late.

You surveyed the room, blinking away the tears already welling up. Going out the main entrance would lead you back into the centre of town to be easily trapped, whereas the door the waiter went in and out of would probably take you through his own house. You decided that was the better option, grabbing the jacket from where it was hung over the back of the chair and preparing to run.

Natasha abruptly stood up, tried taking a step towards you, shock and hurt reflected in her gaze.

You had truly upset her and immediately wanted to apologise, but instinctively took a step away from her. “I’m sorry I can’t-“ You tried, but found yourself at a loss for words. “It was nice knowing you, Natasha.” You forced out instead.

Nat opened her mouth to say something. Then closed it again.

So, you turned on your heels and ran. Her betrayal weighed heavily on your heart, but you refused to let it slow you down.

You burst through the backdoor, shoving past the waiter who was returning to collect your empty plates. He grunted at the impact, but you just carried on through the back garden and into his house, trailing snowy footprints along his carpet you. The helicopter above only grew louder, and out the windows you saw shadowy figures drawing nearer, surrounding the house. You had no weapons on you, and the long dress didn’t allow for much movement, but under no circumstances could you allow yourself to be captured.

You walked briskly through the living room and into the kitchen, stopping as you spotted a knife gleaming on the countertop. Deeming it sharp enough, you grabbed it, plunged it into the hemline of your dress and roughly dragged the blade along the fabric. You heard a terrible tearing sound and continued to frantically pull at the cut section until you had ripped all the way around.

The door you had entered through slammed open once more. “Y/N!”  It was Natasha. Your heart sunk down into your stomach.

You would’ve preferred an armed SHIELD operative…

Without a second thought, you dashed out the side door, where nothing but an expanse of snow-covered fields awaited. A horrible sense of Deja-vu surfaced in your mind as you realised you were practically going to relive the last couple days of traversing the Russian wilderness, only this time alone and without any supplies or real weapon.

“FREEZE!” Like an answer to your unvoiced prayers, the first SHIELD agent arrived on the scene. He was young, fresh faced and inexperienced, but aiming a gun square at your chest.

You ducked, heard a bullet fire, then rammed straight into the man and slammed him into the ground. His gun flew out of his hand, skidding across the icy surface. You ungracefully launched yourself over the weapon, grabbed it and stood up.

Under the cover of darkness, you aimed it at the soldier, breathing heavily as he looked up at you with wide, innocent eyes.

“Go.” You spat, gestured for him to run and watched as he hauled himself up.

He glanced at you fearfully, then turned and sprinted back in the direction of town. You summarised this was most likely where the main group would be waiting to ambush, and instead looked out in the opposite direction for where to aim for. About half a mile away was a gathering of trees. With the helicopter still hovering somewhere above, you would need the covering of the forest to truly disappear.

“Y/N?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, tried desperately to ignore the desire to turn and face her. You knew it would only slow you down, and perhaps that was what she intended to happen. You knew Natasha Romanov would be your downfall… And yet, you still spared a glance back.

Natasha was stood in the doorway of the house, the light from behind casting her shadow onto the sheet of snow. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but think how beautiful she looked like this; studying you so intensely, her face carrying such raw emotion that you could hardly stand to see her this way. Guilt. Loss. Shock. Hope. Screw your entitled sense of betrayal- you wanted to wipe the weight of what she had done from her conscience.

You threw down the gun, crossing the distance between the two of you in a span of three seconds. She stepped down to meet you, arms wrapping around your waist as your hands grasped hold of her face. You pulled her in, lips crashing together as she leant into you. Her lips were chapped but warm, fervently pressed against you as though the need for oxygen had entirely dissipated.

Natasha kissed you urgently, held onto you desperately, hopelessly. Yet in her embrace, everything else faded away to become inconsequential. Her arms tightened around your waist as your lips parted, a plea not to let go. You took in a shuddering breath, rested your forehead against hers and kept your eyes closed, content just to be with her.

For the first time since meeting Natasha Romanoff, you felt you fully understood her. This wasn’t some ploy to make you change your mind or distract you long enough for SHIELD to catch up, nor was it even a goodbye. This was her assurance that someday things would be different, that your story wasn’t over.

That someday you would meet again and finally get it right.

You opened your eyes, finding Natasha’s still to be closed. Reluctantly, you removed your hands from her face, kissing her cheek so that she would just look at you one last time.

And with that, you separated, keeping your gaze fixed on her for as long as possible.

Natasha swallowed her grief. “I’ll distract them.” She nodded, then smiled at you sadly. “Now run.”

Too grateful for words to convey, and too distraught to even try, you bent down to grab the gun before sprinting into the cold Russian night. Your lungs burned; your body ached with each step as you dashed for cover amongst the trees. Your heart was thudding in your chest- as though it wanted to escape and fly back to Natasha, to whom it now belonged.

You reached the forest, an inescapable sense of familiarity dousing you in cold disappointment. Thorny bushes scratched at your exposed legs, mud splashing up your calves. You skidded to a halt in a ditch, crouching down to catch your breath momentarily. You knew you would need to run further to truly disappear from SHIELD, but with the light dusting of snow leaving an easily trackable path, you would need to throw them off the trail first.  

Hands patted down your form, looking for something to leave behind somewhere to mislead them. A loose thread of fabric from where you had torn the dress, a strand of your own hair, anything… Feeling something solid in the jacket pocket, you reached in, fingers brushing against plastic.

You frowned and pulled out the mystery object.

An unconscious smile stretched across your lips as the neon green wrapper of a granola bar fell into your open palm; left behind, half eaten by Nat. You turned the inane trinket over in your hand, feeling strangely nostalgic for not so long ago when something caught your eye.

Barely visible in the dim light was a note scribbled on the inside of the packet. The writing was smudged and almost illegible in the small blank space, but your trembling hands unfolded it with the upmost caution.

If you don’t hate me for what I did. Flat no.4, 34 Peterdy St, Budapest- NR

You exhaled deeply, leant back on your heels, and stared up at the night sky.

Natasha had known you would run, already having prepared a second chance: this one you wouldn’t miss. And you certainly didn’t hate her for it. In fact, the brief enigmatic note set your heart soaring, as in that moment, you knew your journey with Natasha Romanoff was only just beginning.

next >

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Aftermath || LN4 {11}

Pairing: Lando Norris x widow!reader Summary: Lando just can't help himself, he's drawn to you even when he's supposed to leave you alone like the bachelorette party and before the wedding. Warnings: 18+ only, sexual themes, alcohol WC: 2.3k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Epilogue

The day could not have been more perfect for sailing along the Côte d’Azur as a warm breeze tousled your hair and the bottomless mimosas kept coming. You couldn’t think of a better way to spend summer break, and it was only going to get better.

You were surrounded by friends, both old and new. You had been afraid of reconnecting with the people you had ignored in your grief but the fear of rejection had been created in your mind and they had welcomed you back, grateful to have your friendship once again. As were you.

“Thank you for organising this,” you said to Maria as she refilled your glass and her own.

“You’re welcome, chérie.”

The captain had anchored the boat in a quaint inlet so some of the girls could swim but you had opted to catch the sun on the deck with Pietra. You had grown quite close to Max’s girlfriend when she came to the races with him and it was nice to have another female in the garage with you. As good as Max’s company was, it wasn’t the same as a female companion.

“It’s not too late to hire a male stripper,” Pietra suggested as she toyed with the rainbow umbrella spinning around her glass.

“No offence, but have you seen my soon-to-be husband?” you laughed with a shake of your head. “No man can compete with him.”

“It’s a bachelorette party, it’s tradition.”

You rolled onto your stomach and sighed as the sun warmed your back. “Nothing about our relationship has been traditional, why start now.”

Your eyes drifted shut as you listened to your friends laughing and splashing, music playing from the speakers and the smile on your face never faded until the sound of an engine grew louder.

“Sorry, boys, this bay is taken, find your own,” Maria called out and you peeked up to see a speedboat pull up, Lando’s smile growing when he spotted you.

“Oops, power failure,” he replied as the engine shut off and Carlos tossed an anchor into the water so they didn’t drift away. “Law of the sea, you have to save us!”

Lando’s best man was the first to dive overboard and make his way to the boat while Pietra went to meet him.

“He just can’t help himself,” Maria chuckled as she settled into Pietra’s empty sun-lounger and took your glass. “Go on, he’s not here to see any of us.”

You dove into the tepid waters as Lando bombed off the front of the sleek speedboat before resurfacing closer and shaking his hair out, sprinkling you with water drops as he swam closer. 

“Do you come here often?” he flirted as he pulled you against him and wrapped your legs around his waist. 

You shrugged coyly. “Just with my boyfriend.”

“Ugh,” he complained, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “A gorgeous babe like you, of course you are taken. Is it serious?”

“Only enough to spend the rest of my life with him.”

You giggled as he nipped at your neck and pulled back with a smile. “Well, that’s a relief. I was totally prepared to dunk you if you said no.”

“Do you really want to start your honeymoon sleeping on the couch?”

His lips kissed down the line of your jaw before tracing his way back to your ear and admitting, “I don’t plan to be doing any sleeping, love.”

Your legs tightened around his waist in response and he chuckled knowingly as you asked, “Think anyone will notice if we disappear?”

“Yes. Do I care? No.” He was already paddling deeper into the water where the speedboat was anchored but a sharp whistle had you looking back to the yacht. 

“Don’t even think about it, mate!” Max shouted with a finger pointed your way.

Carlos joined him at the edge of the yacht and reached into the pocket of his swim trunks with a laugh. “I got the keys, cabron!”

“Bastards,” Lando muttered under his breath. “I can’t get out of the water now.”

“It’s a shame the water isn’t a little colder.” You kissed him softly before pushing away with a smile you couldn’t suppress. “I’ll see you on deck when you…calm down.”

“You could help me,” he countered as he started swimming to catch up.

“The water is crystal clear, you perv,” you said as you looked back with a laugh. “I’m not getting arrested today because you got horny.”

“It’s your fault,” he pointed out, grabbing you to stop your retreat to the yacht and wrapping his arms around your waist. “I take one look at you and lose my mind.”

“You don’t make it any easier by doing this.” You wriggled in his arms to prove your point as he groaned as it rubbed your ass over the prominent bulge in his swim trunks. “In fact, you make it hard.”

“Good thing I have a human shield,” he chuckled as he continued to the yacht with you held firmly in front of him. “I can still sunbathe with you on top of me.”

“Are you sure you don’t want the big white wedding?” You had asked Lando plenty of times but it was the last opportunity for him to change his mind. 

“I would’ve been happy to go to the courthouse last year, love,” he said with a laugh. “Plus, I’ve already stood with you in a church for all that before. I mean René was standing between us but…same diff.”

“Good,” you sighed in relief, “because it’s a little bit late.” 

“Can you open the door now?” 

You put your foot in front of it as the handle turned and you pressed your back to the cold wood so your hands were free to text Max to collect the wayward groom. “No, it’s bad luck!”

“Come on, mate, stop slipping your damn leash,” Max’s voice trickled through. “Leave the girl to get ready.”

“I just want to talk to my bride real quick. Would’ve seen more of her last night if it wasn’t for you.”

“Be lucky you got to gate crash the bachelorette party.” 

“I would have got lucky, if it wasn’t for you.”

You tipped your ear to the crack of the door as you heard Lando complain about tripping over Max in the hallway and they both heard your laugh. 

“Did you really sleep outside the bedroom door?” you asked.

“I take tradition seriously, thank you very much,” Max stated proudly. “And I knew this muppet wouldn’t be able to stop himself from finding his way to your bed.”

“I don’t sleep well without Y/N,” Lando murmured and he nearly fell into you as you suddenly opened the door.

Max threw his hands up with an exasperated groan as he saw you wrapping your arms around Lando but when you heard the longing in his voice you hadn’t been able to fight the urge to keep the door closed. He needed your comforting touch and you needed him.

“I got a crick in my neck for nothing now. I hope you’re happy.” Max took one look at Lando and he couldn’t help smiling at how awestruck his best friend was as he saw you in your wedding dress for the first time. With a clap on Lando’s back and a kiss to your cheek he retreated down the hall and gave you a moment alone with your husband-to-be.

“You look…whew,” Lando exhaled loudly. “Wow, I…”

“You clean up pretty well yourself,” you praised as you ran your fingers over the lapel of his suit and admired how perfect the tailoring was on him.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby,” he begged as he caught your hands slipping down his chest. “If I’m going to have you now, it’s going to be as your husband.”

You gently pushed back before you were too tempted to close the door and make the guests in the backyard wait. “Then what are you waiting for? Let’s go.”

When Lando said Daniel could be the celebrant you had thought he was joking. You couldn’t imagine the goofball, who never took anything seriously, being the one to lead you through your vows but he had taken the role seriously. 

“How did you get your celebrants licence?” you had asked him when you found him the next day. “Why?”

He had grinned and sat back in the chair as he stared at the clouds overhead. “I love love. It’s beautiful to see and be a part of, so I thought why not. I can be more than just the class clown.”

You nodded at his sincere answer and leaned in. “Okay, good, ‘cause I could do with some help with my vows.”

The guests were spread across the back lawn admiring the petals and tea light candles that floated in the pool. Their light would only grow as the sunset later and the fairy lights would come on soon after when the party really began, but first you needed to gather the guests.

“Danny,” Lando called out the kitchen window and waved him inside, catching the attention of some of the curious guests. “A change of plans.”

“Okaaaay..?” he asked dubiously before you stepped into the kitchen too and he smiled brightly. “You look beautiful!”

“What about me?” Lando propped a hand on his hip and tossed his hair back. “I look good too.”

“Very dashing,” Danny laughed. “So what’s changed?”

“We want to start now. Everyone’s already here so just round ‘em up and skip to the good part.”

“The good part?”

“I do, she does too, you know, the good part.” Lando was growing more animated by the second, the excitement filling him from head to toe to the point he couldn’t keep from bouncing on them. “Can we?”

“It’s your wedding, bro,” Danny laughed, clapping him on the back. “You can do it however you want, or more accurately, as much as your girl lets you get away with.”

“I’m happy with whatever Lan wants,” you confirmed as the same excited energy began to flow into you and you knew it was time. “The sooner the better.”

“Alrighty then, follow me.” Daniel stepped out onto the back patio and stuck his fingers into his mouth to let out a piercing whistle that had everyone turning his way. “Ladies and gentlemen, come on, come on, gather round. I could do with a sheepdog to get the stragglers at the back.”

There was no separation between the groom’s guests or the bride’s, you considered them all family and it was only the closest people to you and Lando that had been invited to the intimate ceremony. The other F1 drivers and crew, the Quadrant members, Lando’s family and Maria, they all gathered closely at the bottom of the stairs waiting to hear what Danny had called them together for. The ceremony wasn’t meant to start for another half an hour.

“Since everyone’s here on time, which is a miracle in itself, these two want to crack on and sign their lives away,” Danny said, earning a round of laughs. 

“Ready, love?” Lando asked as he slipped his hand into yours and lifted it to his lips.

With your free hand you reached for the necklace you had clasped around your neck that morning and ran your fingers over the metal band that hung upon it. Your finger felt naked without the wedding ring but when you woke up there had been a sense of clarity wash over you and you had slipped it off for the first time since it went on.

Removing the ring didn’t change your past and it didn’t erase the memories. Those would always be yours to keep no matter what the future held. But today was about making new memories and that would start with a blank space for the ring Lando was itching to slip on. 

You let the necklace go and felt the ring settle over your racing heart. “I’m ready, are you?”

His smile grew but he didn’t answer with words as he stepped out onto the sundrenched patio and turned to watch you follow. You could see the future in his shimmering blue eyes, the promise of a life full of love and happiness. You could see it all as he waited for you to take the final step towards him. 

“I love you,” he whispered, his eyes darting down to see your shoe peek out from the floor length dress as you took a step forward.

“I love you too.”

The air stilled as if the world took a breath and only you and Lando existed in the moment. It hung suspended like the fairy lights around the yard and you could have stared into his eyes for eternity but eternity would have to wait just a few more minutes. 

Lando could sense the need and urgency to make your vows, to make him your and you his, as he pointed to Max. “Rings, rings, tell me you’ve got them.”

“Of course I’ve got them. What kind of best man do you think I am?” he said as he pulled the matching set from his breast pocket and placed them in your palms.

“The best,” Lando grinned before nodding to Danny. “The good part, yeah?”

“Someone’s a little eager,” Danny teased as he flipped through his folder to the last page.

“More than a little. I have been waiting for this moment all my life.” Lando turned to face you and shook his head like he still couldn’t believe he wasn’t dreaming. “Now would you please hurry up so I can call this angel my wife?”

Click here for chapter twelve.

Tagging: @yunnie-f1 @neiich @zendayabelova @stillbreathin @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alwaysclassyeagle @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @lightsoutletsgo @pleasantducktimetravel @pierre-gasllllllyyyyyy @holy-macncheese-balls @belennasif @ophcelia @love4lando @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19

[comatosebunny09]

fun-sized | leon k.

summary: somehow, musing about being short lead to an obsession with leon’s boobs.

genres: romance, humor

cw: suggestive themes, reader is short, leon is a cheeky little sh!t, stream of consciousness, not proofread

music inspo: if - r5

Being short isn’t all bad. Sometimes, it has its perks.

Strangers pity you in the supermarket, for example. Watch with fond smiles and swelling hearts while you struggle to fetch a box of Froot Loops from the topmost shelf—it would be the last box with marshmallows, too. 

As your poor little calves sting and your fingers strain and you whimper pitifully for added effect, a leggy gentleman often swoops in to save the day.

You don’t have to duck beneath low tree branches when jogging through the park, either. Not at all fazed when your taller coworkers play limbo to avoid a splinter to the face.

Being fun-sized also comes in handy when dodging chainsaws and blades on a mission. Helps that you’re an agile little spider monkey, but you don’t have to do some fancy footwork to avoid having your head lopped off. You can simply duck.

Sure, you have to climb onto your countertops to reach the spice rack. Need a step ladder to retrieve plates from the cupboard. And maybe you have to put a little more oomph into your jumps to reach the pullup bar at the precinct. But the best part of being petite is, well...

Having the best view in the house.

That view being Leon S. Kennedy’s bodacious tits.

They flex invitingly in your peripheral whilst he reaches overhead to fetch a coffee mug. Doesn’t help that his shoulder rigs cup his bosom just right. And, of course, his dress shirt is tapered, accentuating the shape of his Adonis-like pecs.

Yeah, you could be a little more subtle with your ogling. Nearly scorch yourself with piping coffee, too preoccupied with Leon’s nipples that pebble in the cool air conditioning. But, he’s warm-bodied and virile beside you. Exudes the heady aroma of gun oil and cashmere. Stubble dapples his chin, and the golden slither of collarbone playing peek-a-boo with your vision beneath his button-up, well…

It takes every bit of you not to bite your lip, grateful the break-room’s free of any other occupants. It’s embarrassing enough eying your superior like a piece of prime rib.

Leon’s Adam’s apple bobs, causing you to instinctively swallow. Don’t even know when you stopped breathing, static filling the space between your ears. The definitive click of the cupboard being shut brings you back to the present. And you would nearly leap out of your skin, caught like the proverbial child rifling through the cookie jar.

His chuckle tinges the air, warm milk and honey to your ears. Tingles in the tips of your toes. Sparkles in the crown of your head whilst your cheeks flood with heat.

“Think you dropped something,” Leon drawls on the edge of your ear. Incredibly close, the heat radiating off his torso, branding your arm as he reaches around to pluck the coffee pot from your shaky fingers.

“W-what’d I drop?” you sputter, scanning the floor like a fool. Your gaze settles on Leon’s chest when another chuckle cascades from his lips. When a battle-worn finger creeps beneath your chin, angling your head back. His eyes swim with mischief, glittering like sea glass.

“Your jaw, sweetheart,” he croons as if taking part in a naughty secret.

You glimpse Leon’s crow’s feet before he draws away. Miss the warmth he emits, your voice corked in your throat. You watch pathetically, rooted to the floor whilst he ambles towards the break-room’s entrance, a hand stuffed in his pocket.

Before he crosses the threshold, Leon jests over his shoulder, “Gonna watch me like that; you should buy me dinner first.”

It’s out before you can think, hopefulness prickling your limbs. “W-what do you like to eat?”

It serves its purpose, stopping him in his tracks. The smirk he dons when he faces you again siphons your breath.

He stalks towards you before you can process things, soundless as a feline. Places his mug on the counter, spilling over you like liquid fire. Your back collides with the wall; didn’t even notice how close you were to it. Shiver as he sweeps an errant lock of hair behind your ear, suddenly caging you in with brawny arms on either side of your head.

You shrink beneath his power whilst he leans in. Jerk when he gathers your cheek into his palm, leaning down to whisper obscenities against the pulse point behind your ear.

Your knees buckle, and your lashes shutter from the absurdity of it all. From the sodden promises murmured against your skin, causing your tongue to loll about in your mouth.

Leon departs after whittling you down. Leaves you boneless, every egotistical ounce of him filtering from the room alongside him.

“So, dinner at seven?” you quip to his retreating back in the hallway, battling the thundering of your heart in your rib cage.

[f1letters]

vigilante shit | pg10 x cl16

"you did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them"

summary: revenge is served cold and it tastes especially sweet when it involves his best friend

warning: angst, toxic relationship, toxic reader, revenge, suggestive language, swearing, no cheating (since they are not together), a little choking? (lol this took a turn)

pairing: pierre gasly x reader, charles leclerc x reader

word count: 3.4k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts, which includes memories from the past.

french words used: mon ange = my angel; bébé = baby; ma chérie = my darling

we are officially back after last weekend! (please, let's NOT talk about it, I'm still in denial lol) 😂 I guess this story needs a shoutout to my toxic ex? thank you wherever you are in the world for the inspo! haha 😂 anyways, I hope you guys enjoy it as always!

masterlist

Draw the cat eye sharp enough to kill a man

You did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them

Sometimes I wonder which one'll be your last lie

They say looks can kill and I might try

A cat eye sharp enough to kill a man was the first step necessary to a killing night.

Y/N made sure her siren eyes were on point as she got ready for the party that night. It wasn't the first drivers' party she attended since she had become a frequent presence in the paddock for the last few months. But, boy, was it a special one.

This was her time to seek revenge. 

Toxic? Perhaps. But the Machiavellian side of her didn't care. Her eyes were seeing red. 

And red was her theme: her bright cherry-red lips, her long silk red dress, and the luscious red heels at the end of her smooth legs, which showed through the slit of her skirt.

She looked like a walking Ferrari prize, ready to be picked up by the winner.

Playing with me was the worst thing you've ever done, Pierre. You'll see, she thought, leaving the house.

I don't dress for women

I don't dress for men

Lately, I've been dressin' for revenge

It all started on an innocent, warm summer day when Y/N and a group of friends decided to take a boat on the gorgeous, fascinating Lake Como for some fun, swimming and sunbathing, while they were in the beautiful country of Italy.

Unknown to Y/N, in the same waters, another boat passed by hers, immediately catching the interest of all her friends. The young woman was completely distracted, tanning her back, when she began to hear flirty whispers and giggles coming from her group, swooning over some random guys.

Curious, the girl turned around until her eyes landed on the figures of two athletic, handsome men. God, it was unfair, couldn't she have both? A girl can dream.

She had always been a confident woman, but old-fashioned in a sense: she wasn't going to approach them. If they wanted to know her and her friends, they could address them. If not, their loss.

However... Life has a funny way of turning against you and when the group of friends was getting ready to leave the lake, their boat couldn't start. They tried and tried, but clearly none of them had the capacity to handle the situation. So they only had one option left: ask for help from the friendly, helpful guys on the next boat.

"Hey!" Y/N called out, in an attempt to get them to look. "Can you help us?"

"Hi! Is something wrong with your boat?" One of them, in blue shorts, questioned, curious.

"We can't start the engine. Can you help us?" She asked.

The two boys jumped out and swam to the girls' boat without hesitation. When they walked up the stairs, Y/N could almost hear her friends' jaws hitting the floor at the sight of their wet, muscled abs. But Y/N maintained his carefree demeanour, which only fascinated the two young men more.

The unreachable. The unknown. The treasure to be discovered. They lived for the adrenaline, for the adventure, for the challenge.

And she was a walking challenge.

"Thanks for your help. I'm Y/N." She introduced herself, extending her hand to greet them.

"Pierre." The boy in the orange shorts replied, half-closed eyes filled with interest.

"I'm Charles." The other replied, with a seductive smile plastered on his face.

How the girl would come to regret it when she thought back on that day. From that moment came the invitation for the young women to join the two drivers in their next GP in Emilia-Romagna, which they happily accepted.

And from there came more races, group dinners, parties, and much more. Everything got more complicated when what started as a group friendship ended up leading to a silent battle between the two friends for the confident girl's attention.

One of them, unfortunately, had to lose, and in this case, contrary to their races, Pierre came out victorious, much to Charles's unawareness. Although the Monegasque was an absolute Greek God on the outside and a sweetheart on the inside, Y/N couldn't help but initially let her tendency for complicated, toxic men lead her right to Pierre.

She fell for his charm right away. She didn't even have a chance to run. As soon as he made his first move on her when he pulled her into an empty room after a night of partying, he dominated the girl, body and soul, like he was poison burning right through the inside of her veins.

But like all poison, it's only a matter of time before you die without the antidote.

Secret nights, hidden moments, empty promises. He continued to feed off of what he wanted from her, while she sustained herself with the little crumbs left from the illusions she created in her own head.

He wasn't going to change, and she knew it. But it wasn't until she heard the words come out of his mouth that she realized really how she had been used all those months.

"I never wanted a serious relationship, mon ange," Pierre confessed, unconcerned with her feelings. "You knew from the start that this was just fun for the two of you."

"Fun for the two of you?" She echoed his words. "You've been saying for months that we're eventually going to be in a relationship. Don't lie now. Which one'll be your last lie?!"

She wasn't going to allow herself to cry in front of him. She kept her gaze directly on him, with a look that could kill.

"You know what? You're right." She replied, smiling at him through the pain she felt in her chest. The corners of her lips turned up, but her eyes didn't follow the gesture, leaving Pierre almost startled by the mixed signals. "Have a good life, Pierre. I'll see you around."

Oh, he was going to see her around...

If there was one thing Y/N liked better than a good boy toy, it was revenge. 

And she was thirsty for some vigilante action.

I don't start shit, but I can tell you how it ends

Don't get sad, get even

So on the weekends

I don't dress for friends

Lately, I've been dressin' for revenge

She wasn't going to let herself be affected by a guy who didn't treat her as she deserved. That wasn't something that lined up with her strong, confident, determined personality.

Cry for him? Be heartbroken because of the shitty way she was treated by him? Why be sad when you can get even? 

The perfect opportunity for payback just presented itself to her. Just like that: so tempting, so inviting, so alluring. In the form of a single text.

From: Charles Leclerc

hey! you're coming sunday night, right? need you at my victory party...

Y/N spent the whole time with her focus completely dedicated to Pierre when she had a caring, honest man in the palm of her hand... And she would be lying if she didn't say that the fact that he was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous didn't help captivate her now that her heart was free.

However, part of her mind told her that, although she was attracted to Charles, it would be unfair to basically use him to provoke a reaction out of Pierre. The Monegasque didn't even dream of the affair his two friends had going on in the recent past. It was just wrong. After all, how could she do to him what the Frenchman had done to her?

With this, an internal debate was created within the young woman. There were two options: she could be the superior person and move on with her life without thinking about the past, or she could let her anger take over and play with fire a little.

Unfortunately for Pierre, Y/N was never very good at keeping the burning fire of revenge inside her, and she was determined to have a little fun with it.

She needed cold, hard proof, so I gave her some

She had the envelope, where you think she got it from?

Now she gets the house, gets the kids, gets the pride

Picture me thick as thieves with your ex-wife

That Sunday, Y/N walked into the club like she owned the place. The white lights reflected off her as if she were the mirror ball in the centre of the dance floor: all eyes were on her as she outshined the rest of the world.

Two pairs of eyes averted in unison as she approached the group of drivers, both believing she was there for them.

Pierre, closest to the stairs she was going up to the VIP area, was the first to approach the girl, with an inquisitive look.

"Mon ange, I didn't expect you to be here." He confessed, convinced that Y/N was there with the intent of getting him back.

What he didn't expect was that her siren eyes wouldn't even meet his. She was a woman on a mission, and her eyes were on only one person: his best friend.

Without saying a single word to him, Y/N made her way over to the handsome winner of the race, who had his mesmerizing blue eyes already fixed on his shiny red prize.

"Wow, bébé!" He whistled, giving her his hand and making her take a turn to show off her look. "I love the red, it suits you well. Was that all for me?" Charles, more confident than usual from a couple of drinks already consumed, flirted with the girl, his eyes admiring her from head to toe.

"How did you guess?" She replied, in the same tone. Y/N couldn't deny that Charles looked incredibly appetizing. His baby blue shirt was slightly open, exposing the man's defined chest, his hair was tousled and wild, and his eyes were brighter than ever.

"Just a lucky guess. The red Ferrari was a given, though." He chuckled as he pulled her closer to him. "You look so pretty tonight, Y/N. Not that you don't always look stunning, but tonight... Damn, you look fucking incredible, ma chérie."

Charles, focused only on the woman in front of him, didn't even notice how his best friend was glued to the shocking image of the Monegasque clinging to his ex-lover, but Y/N could feel Pierre's eyes burning into the back of her neck.

The young woman couldn't help but let out a satisfied grin. Pierre thought he could play with her without having to deal with the consequences, but he forgot that karma has a way of always biting someone back.

Y/N let her hand flow along the shirt of the driver in front of her until she reached his collar. She approached him seductively until her red inviting lips approached his ear.

Letting her mouth graze against Charles' warm neck, she began her plan. "Do you want to dance, champ?" She asked, with a suggestive tone to her voice.

"Lead the way. I'm all yours tonight." Charles responded and placed his hands on the girl's waist in response.

Enjoy the show, Pierre. It's just getting started.

And she looks so pretty

Drivin' in your Benz

Lately, she's been dressin' for revenge

As the pair moved towards the centre of the club, Y/N swaying his hips gently to the music and Charles with his hands all over the girl's body, Pierre's gaze moved with them.

The Frenchman's muscles tensed up, something that didn't go unnoticed by his teammate Yuki, who was standing right beside him.

"Hey, is something wrong?" Tsunoda asked, worried. "You look... I don't know, upset."

"Everything is fine," Gasly replied, though not at all convincingly. "Everything is perfectly fine." He continued, not understanding whether he was trying to convince the Japanese driver or himself.

He broke up with her, okay, he knew that. He would've understood if she showed up with some random guy trying to tease him. But his best friend, someone he's known for decades?

Y/N was taking things too far.

Pierre unfastened two buttons of his shirt, in an attempt to catch his breath, now dominated by rage. If your plan was to make me jealous to prove me wrong, you've done it, he thought to himself. Now that's enough.

Now for Y/N, revenge was just beginning.

"I think the winner deserves something special." The young woman put her arms around Charles' neck, letting her fingers flow through his brown hair and giving him a provocative smirk. "Don't you agree, Leclerc?"

"Well, he tried really hard to win the race." He joked back, speaking of himself in the third person. The driver's hands threatened to slide further and further down her back towards her bottom. "I think at the very least he deserves a dance with the prettiest girl in this club."

"Perhaps if the winner behaves well during the night, he can find out if his prize is red under the dress too." She teased him, licking her lips as she looked down at his flawless mouth. "Do you think he would like that?"

"Oh, for sure." He answered, getting his face closer to hers.

Y/N felt her heart beat faster and more euphorically, something that caught her off guard. This all started with intentions to punish Pierre for what he did to her, but without her relationship with the Frenchman clouding her mind, Y/N couldn't help but see Charles in a different light for the first time.

Of course, she always thought he was hot and she noticed his attempts to get close to her. But at that moment, the young woman was looking at him and her body seemed to react automatically to the Monegasque's presence, trying to reduce the physical distance between the two as much as possible.

She don't start shit, but she can tell you how it ends

Don't get sad, get even

So on the weekends

She don't dress for friends

Lately, she's been dressing for revenge

She let herself be carried away by the impulsiveness of the moment and, leaving her thirst for vengeance forgotten in the back of her head, Y/N pulled Charles towards her and let her cherry-red lips kiss his.

Leclerc instantly returned the kiss, with the same passion, the same determination, and the same hunger for each other.

At that moment, it was just her and him. It didn't matter the circumstances that led them there, but that there was indeed chemistry and desire for each other. She simply had enough of Pierre and his lies.

On the other hand, Pierre couldn't believe what his eyes were seeing. The woman he used to call his between four walls. The man he called his brother. Kissing. Hands exploring their bodies. No shame, no concern for who saw them and the opinions of outsiders.

It was what Y/N wanted from me and I never gave it to her, he realised.

The couple broke the kiss and Charles ran his hand over the girl's forehead, pushing the loose hair behind her ear. Y/N giggled when she saw the image of the driver's lips now stained with her lipstick and tried to clean them by running her thumb lovingly over them.

Suddenly, she felt the side of her face burn and instantly she realized why: her ex's eyes were fixed on her. As soon as she turned her face towards him, their eyes met and she just imagined all the names he was calling her in his head. She gave him a smirk and turned back to Charles.

"I'm going to the bathroom and I'll be right back with you, okay?" She asked, knowing full well that Pierre was going to follow her.

"I'll meet Carlos and wait for you in the VIP area." He informed her, a hungry look on his face, giving her hand one last rub with his thumb. "But you better be back soon because I've been promised a prize that I can't wait to unravel."

Ladies always rise above

Ladies know what people want

Someone sweet and kind and fun

The lady simply had enough

Just as she predicted, Gasly followed as soon as he saw her heading towards the dark hallway to the bathrooms.

Along the way, and just when he thought his nightmare couldn't get any worse, the Frenchman bumped into Charles, who had a smile plastered to his face like a man who had just won the lottery. Pierre wanted nothing more than to punch that stupid smirk out of his face.

"Mate, I finally got the woman of my dreams." Leclerc innocently admitted, unaware that he was pulling his friend's strings.

Pierre simply walked away, bumping into Charles's shoulder, who was left behind confused by what had just happened.

As soon as he reached the hallway, Y/N was nowhere to be seen. He assumed she was in the ladies' room, so he leaned against the wall beside the door as he waited for her to exit.

A few minutes (which seemed like hours to the impatient man) passed before she got out. As soon as Pierre saw her figure, he grabbed her by the wrist and pushed her against the wall in an act of rage.

"Can you explain to me what the fuck is going on?" Gasly spat out the words, hot-headed, leaning his body completely over the young woman's. "Are you fucking kidding me? Charles? Of all people."

"I'm sorry, but since when do I owe you an explanation? If I remember correctly, you and I are nothing." She spoke, mirroring the same angry tone.

"Shut the fuck up." Pierre gripped her wrist tighter, letting her know that her plan was working exactly as planned. "You crossed the line."

"I just thought the winner of the race deserved a worthy prize." She smirked until the driver placed his hand on her throat and squeezed lightly, making the smile soon disappear from her face.

While he was doin' lines and crossin' all of mine

Someone told his white-collar crimes to the FBI

And I don't dress for villains

Or for innocents

I'm on my vigilante shit again

"You already got what you wanted. You had your fun, you got me fucked up." He confessed. "But that's enough. You're going to get out of here and go home immediately because I'm not about to take this shit."

Y/N laughed in his face. This man's audacity to try to boss her around after using her as his personal toy in his spare time.

The young woman was far from done with her plan. So, she gave him those puppy dog eyes he couldn't resist and he released her throat, his eyes softening at the image of her.

Y/N brought her face closer to his, half closing her eyes as their lips prepared to meet. Or so Pierre thought, who was caught off guard when the girl ducked her way towards his ear and whispered her last words.

"This is only the start. Enjoy my revenge like I'm going to enjoy my night."

I don't start shit, but I can tell you how it ends

Don't get sad, get even

So on the weekends

I don't dress for friends

With that, the young woman left the dark hall without looking back and walked confidently towards the gorgeous man who was waiting for her.

Charles smiled behind the glass he was drinking from as soon as he laid eyes on the girl in red, getting a pat on the back from his friend Carlos.

"Ay, ay, ay, my friend. You are completely head over heels for her." Sainz teased and walked away from them, leaving the couple alone.

Leclerc grabbed the girl by the hip and pulled her towards him, placing a soft kiss on her red lips.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Y/N asked, winking at the boy.

"Hmm, tempting..." For the first time that night, Charles made the risky move of placing his free hand over the girl's ass. "What did you have in mind, bébé?"

Y/N started her night dressed for revenge not knowing that she would end up with her body burning for the Monegasque, but maybe Charles Leclerc was just the antidote she needed in her life as she tried to get back to her past self.

"What about some undressing?"

Lately, I've been dressin' for revenge

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