#all these covers and mood boards for fics and yet no fics

[bunnywritesjunk]

My King

Series summary: Your parents signed you up for an Alpha Omega Match company when you were eighteen. It took years for them to find your match, but you meet the giant austrian man. Will he be a good partner?

Chapter summary: You get a call from your mother regarding your match. You are nervous to meet them, but they turn out to be a pleasant surprise.

Pairing: König x Fem Reader

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics (Never use this abbreviation without the slashes it is an indigenous slur) 18+ MDNI (no others for this chapter)

Word count: 4.1k (damn thats a lot for me)

Genre: Mostly Fluff a little angst here and there.

A/n: Yo Yo Yo whatup. New fic dropping. This one is black/poc coded but anyone can read. I haven't seen any poc coded cod fics just yet (if you know any send them my way). If you do not like Omegaverse fics please do not read. Also I tried making a cute little mood board, i think it sucks but I tried my best. Konig art credit. (I couldn't find the art credit for the girl). König and reader are neurospicy. I got inspired to do an Apex Alpha König from @ghostlythunderbird go give them some love please. Also this is kinda what I imagine him looking like.

Next Chapter

Chapter One:

His back ached as he climbed the few steps to his door. The passage back to his home was uncomfortable. All König wanted to do with collapse on his bed. The duplex he resided in was decent, the little old woman who rented it to him was very sweet. König had a hard time getting anyone to rent to him. His status as an Apex alpha was concerning for most people. They believed him to be violent and inconsiderate. His landlord is an omega that lives with her alpha mate. König managed to convince her. She thought he was sweet and kind. He opened the foyer door that lead to both apartments. He glanced at the mailbox, wondering if he should wait until morning. Begrudgingly, he took out the small mailbox key and fiddled the metal box open. He grabbed the plethora of mail and closed the box gently. The box was filled up quite a bit as he had not been home in a couple of weeks. 

Heading up the stairs he filed through the mail. Most were junk coupons and magazines, some were credit card sign-up letters. One envelope caught his eye. It had no company name just a large white manila envelope addressed to him. He opened his door and stepped inside placing the mail and his belongings on his couch. He ripped open the envelope and took out a thin book. It had the circular logo of the AOMO, the Alpha Omega Match organization. 

König started at the cover his heartbeat sped up the longer he thought about it. He signed up for the program after a particularly hard mission he had in KorTac. He left and joined the 141 and decided he wanted an omega. A lot of the men in the 141 had partners they could come home to. König wanted that. Most people were too afraid to be in a committed relationship with him. König often settled for one-night stands with betas but it left him feeling empty. He opened the packet to the first page.

'Congratulations!' The first word read. His heart beat harder the more he read. 

'We have found you a match!' König's heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. 

'In the plastic wrap, we've provided a fresh scent sample from your potential match. If you like the scent of your match, please send us a scent sample from you as soon as possible.' 

König gripped the packet and leaned over the table, putting his weight on the table. He took a deep breath, he felt a mix of fear and excitement. When he signed up he was not hopeful for a match. He assumed his situation was too complicated for them. He flipped through the packet before reading the rest searching for the scent sample. A plastic bag fell out onto the table. It was sealed and had a verification sticker assuring its authenticity. König picked up the bag carefully. It had a square of white fabric inside it. He took his hood off before opening the bag gingerly. The scent instantly made his knees weak. This Omega had a warm and spicy scent. Coconut and sugary vanilla with hints of sandalwood. König stuffed his nose into the bag inhaling the deep rich smell of this Omega. 

König sealed the scent sample wanting to savor it. He opened the packet back up to the first page. It said once he mailed his scent sample and was approved by his match, they would arrange a meeting with him and his match. There was more information about this Omega and their family along with the reasoning for them picking them. They informed him that this omega was a twenty-six-year-old female. Her father is also an Apex Alpha, he is retired American military. They did not provide a picture of any matches because they wanted the connection to be based on instinct rather than looks. Her mother is an Omega that works as a teacher. There is not much else about the Omega but, König is hopeful. He reads the instructions to send his scent sample. They provided a kit with a form envelope, a small square of fabric, and a plastic bag, almost identical to the one he received from his match. 

'Wash your hands, and rinse any dirt off of your scent glands.'

'Then remove the fabric from the plastic.'

'Rub the fabric on your clean scent glands for 20-25 minutes.'

'Seal the fabric thoroughly in the bag provided .'

He shed his vest and protective gear, the last thing he wanted was for her to smell dust and gunpowder on him. König tried to quell his excitement as he followed the directions. Rushing to his bathroom and then back to his dining room. The fabric square was slightly smaller than his palm. He cupped the crook of his neck, sandwiching the fabric between his hand and his neck. He rubbed gently filling it with his scent. He read the rest of the packet as he rubbed. The rest was mostly semantics about the company and its policies. He combed it a few more times trying to memorize every piece of information about his Omega. 

König smiled gently, he shouldn't think of her as his yet. She smelled so good, too good for him. He smelled the cloth every once in a while to ensure his scent was potent enough. When he was done he placed it in the bag and sealed it. He filled out the form and packed the pre-paid envelope neatly. He grabbed his keys and left his apartment to go to the mail drop-off on the corner of the block. He needed to send it today, he wouldn't be able to sleep if he didn't. He walked back to his apartment having long forgotten about his back pain. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You looked at the list on your phone pushing your shopping cart. Buying the week's groceries had fallen to you this time as your mother was dealing with state testing for her students and your dad was on a hunting trip. You maneuvered the isles expertly collecting the items on your list. As well as some extra sweet snacks you like to indulge in much to our mother's chagrin. You were about to put a pack of Oreos in the cart when your mom called.

“Hello?” You answered but all you can hear was excited screeching. You held the phone away from your ear until she quieted down. 

“He accepted you!!!” She screamed. 

“What? Mom, you're too loud.” 

“The match company! The match they picked liked your scent.” She giggled. 

You were slightly stunned. Your parents signed you up for the AOMO when you were eighteen. You weren't that on board with it but you let them. You know they only want the best for you. You kept sending scent samples every year but they never got back to you about anything. Now, six years later they show up with a match for you. 

“I just got the call, they're sending a scent sample for you right now it's gonna get here in a few days.” 

“Wow...” That was all you managed to say. 

“Now I know this wasn't your ideal way to meet someone, but just please be open-minded sweetheart.” 

You sighed. “I will. I'm finishing up at the grocery and I'll head home.”

“Alright, I'm gonna be home soon too, bye sweetie.” 

You hung up the phone and stood in the aisle. You placed the pack of Oreos in the cart and moved to get the rest of the items before checking out. 

When you arrived home your mother was there waiting. She squealed and hugged you before helping you take the grocery bags inside. 

“I am so excited for you! I have heard so many good things about the AOMO. I bet whoever they picked is gonna be great.”

“Let's hope.” You say. 

The next few days went by quickly. You dove into writing your next few chapters to take your mind off of the match. The sequel to your best-selling fantasy novel was underway. Your days consisted of writing, planning, engaging with fans, and talking to your editor. You typed out the outline for the next few chapters when you heard a knock. 

“Come in.” You said. 

Your mother walked in holding a large envelope. “Guess what came today?” She said excitedly. 

 Your heart thumped with anxiety. She placed the envelope on your desk.

“I’ll leave you to it, let me know if you like them.” She sauntered out of the room happily. 

You picked up the envelope and opened it pulling out a packet of information. You flipped to the first page. 

‘Congratulations!’ It read. 

‘The match we have chosen for you wants to meet you. Once you contact us with your acceptance of their scent, we will arrange for them to meet you and your family with the chaperone of one AOMO agents to facilitate. The two of you will go on a date and get to know each other before deciding whether to move forward. If you do not accept the scent, we will put you back in our database to be matched with someone else.’ 

In the middle of the pages, there was a plastic bag with a white cloth in it. You picked it up and sighed. You doubted you would like the scent. Most alphas were off-putting to you, either way too strong of a scent of they smelled like dishwater. You opened the bag casually and took a whiff. Your inner Omega preened at the musk that erupted from the bag. 

“Oh my…” You inhaled deeply. 

This Alpha…smelled good? He smelled like chocolate and dark roast espresso. There were some hints of fresh baked bread and cinnamon. You caught yourself before you got lost in his scent. You sealed the bag up and took a breath. Maybe, this would be a good experience for you. You scanned through the rest of the information looking over what little they provide about this Alpha. He is a male Alpha, non-American but they did not specify what country. The only other thing they said about him was that his demeanor was shy and that he is military. The instructions said to call the number if you wanted to meet him. You reached for your phone a little too eagerly and dialed the number. A woman’s voice answered.

“Hi, you’ve reached the Alpha Omega Match organization how may I help you?”

“Hi, um I got an Alpha’s scent in the mail, and I want to meet him.” You said awkwardly.

“What’s your name and date of birth?” You told her, nervously. 

“Please hold while I transfer you.” 

The light piano hold music came on, you fidgeted with your sleeve. 

“This is Kara, how may I help you?”

“Oh hi, I got an Alpha’s scent in the mail and I would like to meet him.”

“Alright, let me get your file from reception she’s sending it right now…Ah got it. Oooh ok great I am your agent that will be facilitating this meeting. Your parents will want to meet him yes?”

“Definitely.”

“Ok so, what we will do is you and your parents will meet me at a public space of your choice then. I will bring you to meet the Alpha first, then your parents. We like to keep parent meetings brief as they tend to try and challenge the Alpha. I will have you know, this Alpha is an Apex like your dad. That is one of the reasons we chose you as his match, you have experience with an Apex. Will you be comfortable with all that?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Your head was reeling from all this information. Great, I see you guys are in New York City which is one of my favorite places to visit. Do you have anywhere in mind to meet?” 

“Um, we could do the Highline, there’s food, and it's pretty.” 

“Oh, that’s a great idea let me write it down here. How does September ninth at noon sound to you? A weekday so there are not too many people.” 

Your heart jumped, that’s in two days.

“Uh, sure.” 

“Alright, I will send you a follow-up email regarding our plans all you need to do is confirm. Your match will be notified, and his flight will be booked as soon as we receive confirmation. Do you have any other questions?” 

“No not at the moment.” 

“Ok, don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any concerns. I will see you in a few days.” 

“Bye.” 

You put your phone on your desk and walked out of your room. Your mother was standing a few feet away from your door. When she noticed you, her face lit up.

“So? How was the scent? Are you meeting them?” 

You smiled and nodded “Yup, in two days.” 

She squealed and captured you in a bone-crushing hug.

“I can’t wait! Let’s go tell your father!” She practically ran down the hall. 

You walked to your living room where your otherwise stoic-looking dad was watching TV. 

“Tell us about them, sweetheart.” Your mother said. Your dad turned the volume on the TV down and looked at you expectantly.

“Well, I don’t know much but, I know he’s not American and that he might be shy…He smells good.” 

“That’s important, I hope you wouldn’t pick someone who smells like shit.” Your dad chimed in. 

“He’s also military, and an Apex.” You added quickly. 

Your mother gasped quietly, and your father raised his eyebrows.

“Now that’s intriguing.” Your mom said smiling.

“You already booked a meeting with him?” Your dad asked. You nodded. 

“You should’ve asked me first.” He pinched his nose bridge in annoyance. 

“Well, he’s my match and I wanted to meet him.”

“Apex Alphas are dangerous. I would know.”

“Oh, please honey it’ll be fine.” Your mother ridiculed him.

“It’s my choice, Dad. You guys are the ones who signed up, I finally got a match, so I want to see it through. If it doesn’t work out, then I’ll call it off.”

Your father growled lowly. “Fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your mother insisted to dress you in a cutesy outfit, so you let her have her moment. She dressed you in a dark floral dress that hugged your curves just right. She added dainty jewelry along with your protective collar. You didn’t usually wear it but again, she insisted. She did your hair half up half down. Your dad was waiting by the front door with your mom’s purse in hand. 

The train ride there was silent, your mother looked utterly content while your father was peeved about this whole situation. You arrived at the station and walked to the Highline. You got a text from Kara telling you what she looked like and where she was. She was wearing a dark blue pencil skirt and a white blouse. She stood up as you and your family approached. You stuck your hand out to shake hers.

“Nice to meet you guys, come sit.” She said motioning to the bench she was on. 

Your father stayed standing while you and your mother took a seat next to her. 

“So, there are some things I want to go over with you all and then I’ll talk to you privately and do the official meeting ok?”

“He’s here?” You said in an almost panicked tone.

Kara chuckled. “He is here but I left him to wait somewhere out of sight for now.”

She continued. “His name is König, he was born in Austria. When we did his psyche and personality evaluations, we found that he has neurodivergent tendencies, like you. Our matches with people that have a similar way of communicating have gone well.”

“Wait, neurodivergent?” Your mom chimed in. 

“Yes, your daughter did show signs of some behavioral abnormalities, but she is high functioning.”

“I told you that Mom.” You say giving her a deadpan look. Your mother looked down and gave a small ‘hmm’. Kara continued. 

“He does struggle with social anxiety so please be patient with him. Other than that, he currently lives in Amsterdam, if you choose to go forward that is where you will live.”

Your dad finally spoke “Is Amsterdam safe for people like us?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Oh yes, Amsterdam has many people from different places and backgrounds. It is one of the most popular immigration and tourist countries, don’t worry.”

“Alright, how about you come with me, and we’ll get your meeting started.”

Kara led you away, you turned and did a small wave to your parents your mom smiled back at you warmly. 

“So, I will be in contact with you the whole time. If you want to go just say the word, I am never going to be more than a couple minutes away. Honestly, I don’t think you’ll have any issues with him.” 

She led you to a restaurant below the high line, it had indoor and outdoor seating. There were a lot of people laughing and drinking. Your heartbeat sped up as you scanned the crowd. The scent of food entered your nose. Everyone’s scent in the dining area mixed into an indescribable concoction. Among the borderline overwhelming smells, you got a hint of something familiar, espresso. 

You scanned the large room trying to pinpoint where it was coming from or if you were just imagining it. I dark figure near the corner of the room caught your eye. He looked way too large for the chair he was sitting in. He was looking down at his hands, dirty blonde hair covered his forehead. He was wearing a black cloth mask along with a form-fitting black shirt. As soon as you walked in he raised his head. You looked away pretending you weren't staring at him. Kara led you straight to his table.

“This is König.” She gestured to him. 

He stood up to shake your hand still keeping himself hunched at the waist to appear smaller. You shook his hand and smiled as you introduced yourself. He nodded and said a small 'hmm' to acknowledge you. 

“Alright, I'll be near. Have fun.” Kara left swiftly.

You sat down in the chair across from him as he did the same. A wave of anxiety came as you did, not knowing how to break the ice with him. You picked up the menu and scanned it.

“Did you order yet?” You ask.

“No, I was waiting for you.”

“Well thank you, what looks good?” 

“The Steak frites look pretty good.” He glued his menu.

“I'm excited for dessert, they have chocolate cheesecake.”

He chuckled and it made your stomach flip.

“You like sweets?” He asked.

“Very much.” You smile at him. 

The waitress came over and asked if you wanted any drinks. König looked at you, waiting for you to order first. 

“I'll try the elderberry gin and tonic.” You said.

 Konig was about to order when the table next to us erupted in loud laughter. He jumped slightly before answering the waitress. 

“I'll get the house Lager.” He said. 

The waitress left to grab the drinks. The adjacent table was still very loud. The group of friends hollering and screaming obviously day drunk. Konig had his head slightly turned away from them in an attempt to lessen the noise. It was subtle but you could tell. You reached into your bag and brought out a pair of foldable headphones. You turned on the noise cancellation and gave them to him. He looked slightly confused. 

“Put them on.” You encourage him. 

When he did the noise muffled and the restaurant was much quieter. You could see the tension in his shoulders ease by the second. His scent sweetened

“Is that better? Can you hear me ok?” 

König swears he could've kissed you right then and there, but he settles on a nod. 

“Thank you, Leibe.” 

“No problem.”

The waitress came by with the drinks and asked if the two of you are ready to order entrees. You ordered the fish and König ordered the Steak. While you waited, you two had a pleasant small talk about his flight and how he is enjoying his visit. He hesitated to take off his mask at first so you focused on your menu to give him the space to be comfortable with you. You glanced up and took in his face. He was beautiful, he had scars on his face that added ruggedness to his chiseled features. König noticed your scent amplify as you gazed at him. His inner alpha pushed him to be closer, to know more about you.

“So, you're in the military?” 

He nods. “I work for a military contractor. Do you work?”

“Sort of, I'm an author so I work from home.”

“That is nice, are you published?” König was secretly very happy he'd get to have you at home all day. 

“Yes, I am. I'm working on my sequel right now. Do you like to read? Or, do you read in German?” 

He chuckled. “I have not had much time to read lately, but I will now.”

“Well, you have to buy my book of course.” You giggled. 

König nearly fell off his chair at the sound. This Omega was everything he wanted. He prayed to whatever god was up there that you felt something with him. By the time the food came you both fell into a comfortable rhythm. He asked about your childhood and hobbies. It was a change of pace, most Alphas are very self-centered, but he is putting effort into getting to know you. The food came out and you both ate. He offered bites of his food for you to try which you happily returned the favor. By the time you finished your food, you hadn't noticed how much time has gone by. Kara texted you to check-in. 

'Hey, so I saw things were going well so I let you guys talk for an hour and a half but, your parents are getting antsy. Are you guys ready to see your parents?' 

“Oh, Kara is asking if we're ready to see my parents.” 

König fiddled with his fork. “I'm ready.” 

He paid the bill and you both left the restaurant. You took in the full size of the Alpha you matched with. He was no less than a giant. He held the door for you but stopped before he walked through. 

“I forgot something, I'll be back.” He walked back into the restaurant. 

Kara walked up to you. “How did it go?” 

“I...really like him...”

“I know, that feeling is scary. I think you guys are a wonderful match.”

König came out holding a small to-go box. He handed it to you, you could tell he was smiling under his mask. 

“What's this?”

Inside the box was a slice of chocolate cheesecake and a fork.

“We forgot to order dessert.” 

You were stunned, you didn't think there could be Alphas that were so thoughtful. Your inner Omega soared, this Alpha was courting you so well. 

“Thank you, König, that's really sweet.” 

“Ah, here they are.” Kara said. 

Your parents walked up to the three of you. Your mother had a surprised but happy look on her face. Your father kept his deadpan face from earlier, not a good sign. 

“Wow, sweetheart you caught a big one!” Your mom chuckled. 

“Parents, this is König.” Kara said. 

Your mother introduced herself and your father as he stood there sizing up the taller Apex. 

“Alright, let's keep things brief parents do you have any questions for König?”

“Well, as long as she likes him I don't.” Your mother said. 

“Can you protect her?” Your dad asked putting some venom behind his words. 

“I would never let anything happen to her sir. You have my word.” König answered without hesitation. 

Your dad nodded and looked at you. “You like him?”

“...Yeah I do.” 

“Alright then, that's all that matters.” 

“Well, I think it's safe to say that the match is made. I will contact you for the next steps. Parents, let's let them say goodbye.” Kara led your parents away.

You turned to König. “Thank you for meeting with me, I had a really good time.” You saw a faint blush at the top of his mask. 

“I also had a good time, liebe.” 

“What does that mean?”

“Ah...it means love.” 

“Oh well...” You motioned for him to come bend down close to you.

When he got close enough you pecked his cheek. 

“I'll see you soon, love.” 

[berberriescorner]

pregnant sexs w rio

I had to sit and think of which direction I wanted to take this in. Whew, chileee! Way too many scenarios are playing in my mind. This man😩😍!

I'm going to keep it a stack with y'all. This turned into a whole-ass fic.

Sit back, buckle up, and prep yourself for the trip my imagination's about to take you on♥️. Love, comments, and reblogs are appreciated, lovelies💞.

A/N: Sexual frustration and prolonged foreplay ahead. If that's not your vibe. You may want to skip out on this one. A couple of twists and flips here and there. I hope you lovelies enjoy what I did with this♥️. Just a heads up, I really got into this one, so it's going to be pretty lengthy. Worked on it for a while. Even made a damn mood board...I couldn't resist.

One More Note: A polite, gentle reminder that I don't usually take requests. If you float something in my ask that I just can't resist. I will give in here and there. In other words, if you don't get a response, please don't take it personally.

If you missed any other ask about dad!rio or hubby!rio, they're all listed on my Masterlist under Rio Asks/Headcanons (in order). Enjoy my lovelies! Feel free to love, comment, and share🥰.

Song Inspo💜:

"Let's Go Little Kitty-Kat"

Livid. Irritable. Restless. Each one of these words perfectly describes your current mood. The kids had begged to spend their spring break with Rio’s grandmother. Marcus was spending his time off with her, and his siblings loved to follow big brother’s every move. You weren’t surprised that they wanted to be wherever he was. It didn’t hurt that their great-grandmother spoiled them rotten and gave them whatever their hearts desired. Even your sweet baby boy left his momma in the dust. That wasn’t the reason for your foul mood (though being in this big, empty house didn’t help).

You were angrily resting on the couch, a permanent pout etched on your face. You huffed loudly as your husband’s voice sounded on the other end of the phone call.

“So, you’re not going to say anything?”

 Silence.

“Mama,” he sighed. 

You were willing to bet any amount of money that Rio’s hand was running down his face right now. Were you overreacting? Possibly. Maybe even being a bit unreasonable? Probably so. Did you give a damn? Not at all. Blame it on the hormones.

“Let me make sure I’ve got this right. You’re pissed off–again? That’s two days in a row, mama. I’ve still yet to figure out the reason behind yesterday's bad attitude. Normally, I don’t let that shit slide, but I understand you’re emo-.”

“Call me emotional one more time, Rio.”

“And you’re going to do what, darlin’,” he questioned, voice laced with a hint of warning. Rio chuckled sarcastically, “I got a lot going on right now. Call me back when you’re ready to talk like an adult. Ready to get back on your grown woman shit.”

“Whatever, Christopher. You called me. Nobody wanted to talk to your dusty ass anyway. Get off my line,” with that, you both hung up on one another, more irritated than before the call.

You knew your behavior was coming off as petty, but too much pent-up frustration kept you from acting like a rational human being. You rolled your eyes so hard they nearly got stuck as you recalled yesterday's events.

You lay awake in bed, your body vibrating with lust. The day had dragged by slowly as your need for Rio grew more and more. You changed positions so many times your head scarf came undone.

“If I can just manage to wait up at least another hour. Maybe Rio will get here soon enough to put my ass to bed.”

Nope. The tiny human growing in your womb pulled you into a deep slumber. 

By the time Rio reached the threshold of your master bedroom. You were snuggled deep into the covers with pillows surrounding you. His shoulders lowered with a hint of disappointment. Rio knew you wanted him home, even if you hadn't said the words aloud. He could sense the attitude and frustration in your voice when he called to tell you not to wait up. Rio had tried his hardest to get home hours ago, but with every attempt at leaving came more matters that required his attention. He lowered himself to your sleeping form. Adjusting your scarf so it wouldn’t slip off, Rio softly pecked your nose and cheek. After a quick shower, he carefully climbed into his side of the bed, gently pulling two of the many pillows from behind your back. It took some effort, but he managed to cuddle up to you and delicately pull you into him. You stirred for a few moments but quickly fell back into a deep sleep. Your husband watched, smirking at the light snores you released.

“Night, Mama. Love you,” he whispered, kissing your neck.

The following morning, you woke up. Still horny as hell. You rolled over to find his side of the bed empty. He had been there. Rio’s side of the bed looked slept in. Your head turned in the direction of your en suite. Not a peep sounded. He wasn’t in there.

Maybe he’s downstairs. I should fix him something before he heads out. Perhaps he could eat me for breakfast. These freaking pregnancy hormones are out of control. Every waking moment, I feel like swallowing this man whole. When I’m not hungry, I’m horny. When I’m not fiending for my husband, I want to eat everything in sight. Fucking Rio. The dick just doesn’t miss. He shoots the club up every.single.time.

You smiled at your small bump, rubbing soft circles at the sides. Honestly, you didn’t mind being pregnant for the fifth time, but for your sanity (and the kids), this would be your last. If Rio wanted more babies, he had better find a damn good surrogate. Mama’s tired.

Does this man not realize he’ll have to pay for three, possibly four, weddings? Who am I kidding? In his mind, Rio probably believes he’ll be able to chase off any and every potential love interest. He’s in for a rude awakening. My dad didn’t like his ass at first. I have a (legally) pistol-toting father as well. That didn’t stop shit. Now look at us: marriage and a gang of children.

Pregnancy turned you into an impatient woman. When you wanted something, there was no convincing you different. 

In your thoughts, the bedroom door crept open. Rio’s head peeked inside. He noticed you sitting on the side of the bed and stepped into the room. He swaggered over to you, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. His voice was low, and restlessness lingered in his tone.

“Morning, Mama. You sleep alright,” he asked as his fingers took hold of your chin, tilting your head back for a kiss. His rough, calloused fingers danced along your jawline, trailing low enough to graze the outside of your breast. He smiled as you gasped against his lips.

The kiss started sweet, turning into hunger in mere seconds. You tried tugging your husband down onto the bed. Rio pulled back, pecking your lips a few times, before standing upright, hand slowly stroking the inner part of your thigh. With just a few inches, he would've been dangerously close to where you wanted him most. 

“I had to come to kiss my beautiful wife before heading out. I need to slide, mama. I’ve got a lot on my plate today. It's going to be hectic, and shit might get active. I ordered you some breakfast. It’ll be here soon. I’ll probably get in late tonight. Don’t wait up for me. Make sure you and my baby get some rest. Love you,” he said, kissing you again.

“Love you too, Papa,” you exhaled.

You watched him leave and groaned with irritation. 

It would be two nights in a row that he’d be coming in late at night. That typically wouldn’t be an issue. You had grown used to it throughout the years. The only time it became a problem was when you were in your current state: knocked up, horny, and hormonal. It was just something that switched in your brain during these times. You wanted all Rio’s attention. The need to have him buried deep inside you was high, and you couldn’t quite get your fill of him.

Several attempts to distract yourself throughout the day had failed miserably. No matter what you did, your thoughts always redirected themselves back to Rio and sex. You made one last effort to ignore the constant need to devour your husband. Turning Apple Music on shuffle, you opened a magazine and thumbed through it. Unfortunately, the universe wasn't on your side. Every song was more explicit than the previous one. A frustrated sigh fell from your lips as you shut the music off.

Enough is enough. Hubby won’t come to me, but rest assured I can go to him.

You padded to your bedroom closet, looking for a sexy little number. Slipping on a pair of Steve Madden heels, you snatched up your car keys. You set forth on a journey to Rio. Bringing him lunch would be your excuse for showing up unannounced. That reason, however, wasn't enough to prevent the lecture you received from an overprotective husband, Rio. As if that wasn’t enough, you also caught shit from your meddlesome bodyguard/homie, Mick. He escorted you into the warehouse when you arrived.

“Boss lady, you know you’re not supposed to be here,” he instigated.

“Mick, hush. I can bring my husband some lunch. Chill on me.”

“Alright, but you already know. The boss won’t be happy you're out, running around for him.”

“I went to get him some takeout. I didn’t even get out of the car. It was a curbside pickup.”

You were about to continue the debate when Rio’s voice sounded behind you.

“Mama.”

How could one little word send your body into a frenzy? You could sense both curiosity and a little anger in his tone. Mick stood there smirking at you. He knew what was about to go down. It was one thing for you to be out and about with no security detail. That was enough to put you in hot water. The fact that you were pregnant pushed his disappointment to another level.

“Mick, that thing we were about to take care of? Start without me. I need a few moments with my wife.”

He nodded in agreement, giving you a ‘good luck’ smirk on his way out. You turned your attention to Rio after the door closed. His jaw ticked as he shook his head in disbelief.

“What did I tell you about leaving the house with no security detail? You’re supposed to be at home relaxing. What are you even doing out and about? I specifically told you I’d be busy today. You know that’s code for business dealings. Your ass shouldn’t be anywhere near this warehouse right now.”

“I just wanted to bring you lunch, Papa. I needed to see that handsome face,” you replied in your best baby voice.

“Nah, that little voice and smile ain’t cutting it right now. Why are you so damn hardheaded?”

Now you were starting to get a little pissed. It was understandable that Rio was always concerned for your safety, but what choice did you have? Several, you had several. It just couldn’t wait. Yes, you were slightly irritated by his reaction, but the ache in your core grew even more being in his presence. The scent of his cologne wafted through the air. With just one sniff, you could feel your nipples harden.

These hormones are so out of control. I need this man to wreck my shit. The sooner, the better.

Taking a deep breath, you attempted to plead your case.

“But baby-”

“Listen. I’m too busy to have this argument with you right now.”

Rio closed the distance between you and placed his hands on either side of your face. He angrily sighed and pecked your lips.

“I appreciate the gesture, Mama, but please listen to me next time.”

You bit your lip, looking at him apologetically. Snaking your arms around his body, you allowed him to engulf you in a hug. Wrapped tightly in his embrace, Rio caught you off guard, giving you a hard swat on the bottom. His voice was low and gravelly as he growled, “You're trouble, Mama.”

You moaned, pushing your backside deeper into his palms. Eyes drifted shut as you stood on your tiptoes and puckered your lips for a kiss. Rio’s hands caressed the soft, plush globes as his breath fanned your lips. He denied your request for a kiss. Instead, his lips ghosted your neck, and his mouth traveled to your ear. Nipping at your lobe, he rasped, “Sorry, mama. We don’t have time for that. I have to go handle business.”

He pulled away, smirking at the frown that quickly shifted to a pout.

“We can’t spend just a few more minutes together?”

“Don’t do that, ma. You know this is important. Since you’re already out and ignoring my demands, why don’t you spend some time with your best friend? Here, take my card. Lunch is on me.”

This man is so preoccupied with business. He doesn’t even see that I came here to give him a piece of pussy. For some reason, that irritates the hell out of me. Usually, he can read my body like a book. I see where his priorities are at the moment. Business must trump his pregnant wife’s needs. I gave this man four and a half babies, and this is the thanks I get? Let me take my pregnant, horny, irritated tail home. His ass is sleeping on the couch tonight, and I don’t give one fuck that I’m being irrational.

“Nah, I’m good,” you waved your hand dismissively.

Sensing attitude, Rio tilted his head back, giving you a look of incredulity.

“Look, I ain't got time for the dramatics right now. I told you I would be busy. Go home, mama. We can discuss this in the privacy of our home.”

Cocking your head to the side, you gave him an irritated glare. A rush of pregnancy hormones came hurtling towards you. Snatching your handbag and keys from his desk, you stormed out of the room. Rio knew he struck a nerve and possibly hurt your feelings. Stepping into the hall, he called after you. Ignoring him, you stomped out of the building. With an exasperated sigh, your husband ran his hands over his face. Taking a deep breath did little to soothe the irritation that started festering inside him. It also didn’t help that the idiots working the warehouse floor were ogling your behind as you angrily switched out of the building.

“Y’all got a death wish or something? Fuck you looking at,” Rio barked towards the group of men.

“I suggest you get back to work before I unload the clip in this bitch,” he boomed, walking back into his office to cool down before heading to the meeting.

“She’s almost to her car. Hurry up! Follow her. Keep a watchful eye over her. She’s in her feelings. Make sure my wife and child make it home safe,” he ordered one of his men.

Her ass is out here walking around in those tight-ass jeans. We’re about to have a heated exchange when I get home. Out here showing out. She’s over here pressing on my last nerve and still making me want to put her on her back at the same damn time. Thick-ass. Feisty-ass. Sexy-ass. Spoiled-ass. Hormonal-ass woman.

Rio’s detail only served to anger you more. Pulling into your driveway, you flung the car door open, grabbed your stuff, and turned toward the henchman.

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter. Either wait out here or take your ass back to the warehouse.”

Not waiting for a response, you went into your home. Setting the alarm, you settled in for a quiet, lonesome evening. You had hoped a nice relaxing shower, comfy PJs, and stuffing your face would put you in a better mood. It could have worked, but your husband kept blowing up your phone.

Annoyed by the fourth call, you answered icily, “What can I do for you, dear?”

Rio could hear the sarcasm in your voice. “This what we on tonight?”

“Why, whatever do you mean, husband?”

“Cut the shit, mama. Why are you ignoring my calls?”

“You were oh so busy. I’d imagine that ignoring you would give you more time to concentrate on business, sweetie.”

“You petty as fuck. Stop being mean, mama.”

His mini flirtations went ignored.

This man hasn’t seen petty yet. Watch me work, Daddy.

“What can I do for you, Christopher?”

“Oh, are we using government names now? Bet. Why are you being stubborn?”

Silence.

“So, you’re not going to say anything?”

 Silence.

 “Mama,” he sighed. 

“Let me make sure I’ve got this right. You’re pissed off–again? That’s two days in a row, mama. I’ve still yet to figure out the reason behind yesterday's bad attitude. Normally, I don’t let that shit slide, but I understand you’re emo-.”

“Call me emotional one more time, Rio.”

“And you’re going to do what, darlin’,” he questioned, voice laced with a hint of warning. Rio chuckled sarcastically, “I got a lot going on right now. Call me back when you’re ready to talk like an adult. Ready to get back on your grown woman shit.”

“Whatever, Christopher. You called me. Nobody wanted to talk to your dusty ass anyway. Get off my line,” with that, you both hung up on one another, more irritated than before the call.

Hours later, you came down from your mood swing. Guilt slowly started to seep into you. Not one to give in and apologize first, you decided it was the right thing to do. Unlocking your phone, you sent a request for FaceTime. It rang twice before being denied.

He’s probably busy. I’ll try again in an hour or so.

The next time you tried his cell, you called. It rang several times before going to voicemail. Waiting another hour, you tried again. Ringing once, it went to voicemail.

Now, wait a fuckin’ minute. One ring means he hit the “f you button.” See, now a bitch is starting to get mad again. Woosah. Fight them mood swings, girl. Fight them!

Just as you had calmed your nerves, a text came through.

Husbaeee (Papa)🥰😈👅💦: You and the baby good?

Wifey (Mama)🌎💍: Yes, we’re fine. Why haven’t you called me back? Are you okay?

Husbaeee (Papa)🥰😈👅💦: I’m busy, remember? You didn’t feel like talking earlier? Why are you so chatty all of a sudden?

His petty ass.

Wifey (Mama)🌎💍: Stop making it hard to tell you sorry, Papa. Chill on me.

Husbaeee (Papa)🥰😈👅💦: Keep your sorry, ma. I’m cool on that. See you when I get home.

Oh, okay! It’s just, ma, now? Bet.

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Rio smiled to himself. He purposefully pissed you off again. Part of him did it out of payback, but his main objective was getting you frustrated. If it had done the trick. You would be ripping his clothes off and begging to be fucked once he made it home.

Not one to tell a man where he can and cannot go in his own home. You decided against telling Rio to sleep on the couch. However, the need to be petty was vibrating heavily in your bones. You fought sleep as long as you could, hoping to wait up for him long enough to ignore him for a bit. The baby again had other plans and lulled you into a deep sleep.

Rio braced himself for whatever you had planned to throw his way. He smirked to himself, releasing a low chuckle before exiting the car. Dragging his tired body into the house, your husband entered the code into the security system. Resetting it, he headed in the direction of the bar. He filled a tumbler with two fingers of bourbon. Tossing it back, Rio let the warm liquid flow through his chest. He rinsed the glass, set it in the dishwasher, and headed upstairs. 

Her moody ass is probably sleeping.

Attempting not to wake you, he quietly padded up the stairs. Rio unbuttoned the first couple of buttons on his shirt as he walked toward your shared bedroom. He nearly made it there but stopped in his tracks. The look on his face turned stone cold, and he slowly turned his head to peer into the guest bedroom.

What the fuck is this shit?

There you were, the door cracked, and lights dimmed just enough for him to see you tucked in tight, slumbering peacefully. Your plan to ignore him may have fallen through, but you still managed to be petty even in your sleep.

You jolted awake, feeling arms slip under your frame and pull you up from the mattress. Moments went by as you willed your eyes to wake fully. Your sight focused on Rio’s angered expression, and you pushed at his chest.

“What the hell are you doing? Put me down, Christopher!”

He ignored you. Rio’s jaw ticking as he took long strides exiting the guest room. He carried you into your bedroom, laid you in bed, tucking you in. You started to explain that you were a grown-ass woman and could sleep anywhere you damn well pleased. The look in his eyes forced you to think better of it.

“I don’t give a fuck how angry you are! Your ass will sleep in this bed regardless. Go to bed mad if you want to. Your stubborn ass is going to do it lying next to me. No room for debate, mama. You mad at me? You don’t want to be near me right now? That’s all good, but you sleep in our bed. Roll to the edge of the bed. That's all the space you're getting.”

Rio snatched his shirt over his head and threw it into the clothes hamper. You did your best to bite back any more snarky responses as you watched Rio stalk to the bathroom. The door flew shut, and you mumbled, “Dramatic much.”

The bathroom door swung open. Standing in the doorway, eyes set on you, Rio commanded, “Can you stop talking? Please give me a moment of peace, ma. All that talking’s gon’ land your ass in a world of trouble. Save yourself, mama. Be quiet.”

You cut your eyes at him, sliding down into bed. You lay on the side facing away from him. The corners of your mouth pulled into a mischievous grin. Waiting for the shower to start, you attempted to remove yourself from the bed and head toward the exit. Rio's voice bounced off the bathroom walls, halting your movement.

“Get back in bed, mama.”

You kissed your teeth, “Ain’t nobody left. Shut up, Rio.”

“You heard what I said. Stop playing with me.”

Pouncing back on the bed, you snarled towards the bathroom door.

“Fix your face, ma. You’re trying my patience tonight.”

Can he see through the damn walls or something?

“Nobody worried about you, Christopher.”

“Yeah, okay. Your stubborn ass got back in that bed. Didn’t you?”

Rio wanted to wash the events of the day away. He wanted a few quiet minutes to destress, but being a little hellcat, you wouldn’t give him that. You had a response for everything. He loved you combative and keyed up, but tonight, you were laying it on thick and wouldn’t let up. Rio was slightly irritated that his plan to piss you off again was starting to backfire. Taking a few calming breaths, he readied himself to regain control of the situation.  

The water cut off, and he walked into the room, towel hanging dangerously low around his waist. There were beads of water sliding down his naked torso. Being irritated by him wasn’t enough to stop your eyes from tracing him from head to toe. Squeezing your thighs together, you bit your lip, fighting the urge to jump on him. Rio felt your eyes on him and smirked in your direction. He laid a fresh pair of underwear on the foot of the bed. Standing upright, his eyes connected with yours as Rio pulled the towel from his waist. His eyes stayed on you as he took the time to dry the rest of his body. Your vision latched onto his manhood as you watched it swing from side to side. The tip of your tongue danced across your lips, and Rio rasped, “You hungry, mama?” The knowing smirk on his face aggravated you. Not thinking it through, you mumbled, “Like you give a fuck.”

A low and bitter chuckle fell from Rio’s lips. That was your last chance. His bottom lip pulled between his teeth. His eyes darkened and held yours as he slipped into his underwear. Tossing the towel into the hamper, he crept toward you. The silence that filled the air added to the moment's intensity.

Rio’s fingers glided along the column of your neck. His digits cupped your chin, giving it a light squeeze as a warning. His face crowded your own. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smirking. Finally, you had pissed him off enough to get the reaction you craved. Wetness pulled between your thighs in anticipation.

“This all could’ve been avoided, mama.”

Rio’s thumb traced your bottom lip as he backed away. You watched in confusion as he stepped into a pair of sweatpants and grabbed his phone. Stepping toward the door, you asked, “Where are you going?”

“Thought you didn't want to be near me, darlin’? I think you need some time alone. Just go to bed. I'm not tired.”

“I’ve been alone for two days! You’re such an asshole.”

His hand gripped the doorknob as he rolled his neck and shoulders. He was fighting the urge to pounce. With his back to you, Rio finished, “Next time you want to be fucked. Just say that, ma.”

You growled in annoyance, chucking a pillow against his back as he walked out of the room.

“Your ass is lucky you're carrying my baby. It's the only thing keeping me from snatching your little ass up. Crazy ass woman,” he called out from the hallway.

You punched your pillows and got back in bed. Too upset to sleep, a slew of emotions rained down on you. First, there were tears of frustration. Then anger, followed by another round of guilt.

Why do I keep putting this man through hell? All over some dick. That’s what it comes down to. However, if he would’ve cracked my damn back, this shit could’ve been avoided. You're so damn busy you can’t slide inside me and bust a quick nut? 

You smiled, rolled your eyes, and finished your thoughts.

Damn, I’m a brat. Let me drag grumpy pants back to bed. I thought, “wE sLeEp BeSiDe EaCh OtHeR No MaTtEr WhAt,” Head ass.

Rio was sitting on the edge of the living room sofa, arms draped over his lap. The longer he sat there thinking over the day and your attitude. The more he had to fight the urge to do the things he truly wanted. Rio fisted the top of his pants as wicked thoughts of you crying out for him cycled through. His hands trembled, filled with the need to possess and punish you. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back to calm his hunger. That plan fell through as your scent flowed into the room. He groaned, opening his eyes and settling his gaze on you.

“You could’ve slept in the guest room. Why are you being extra? I thought we didn’t sleep in separate rooms anyway?”

“I’m not about to keep going back and forth with you. Just go back to bed, Mama,” he responded with tiredness in his voice.”

That pulled at your heartstrings.

Be nice, bitch.

You swallowed your pride and made the first move toward reconciliation.

“Come back to bed, Rio. I’m sorry for being unreasonable, papa.”

Still standing in the entryway of the spacious living room, you waited for a response. The room was painfully quiet as you two watched one another. Rio’s gaze trailed your body. It was just something about you in his T-shirts that always drove him crazy. He kept his expression blank, making it hard for you to get a read on him. The silence continued for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was different. It wasn’t angry, but it wasn’t happy either.

It was dominant, possessive even. 

“Come here.”

Oh, shit. Not that voice. Anything but that.

There were two types of dominant Rio. One, you had been working his nerves for. The other? Not so much. You stayed frozen in place.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

Your legs carried you over to him. Stepping between him and the coffee table, you waited for further instruction.

“Look, I know I’ve been working your nerves-.”

“Mm-Mm. Quiet. Talking seems to be your downfall, Mama.”

Rio’s hands reached up and grasped your hips.

“Sit,” he instructed, pulling you into a seated position on the coffee table.

His elbows rested on the top of his knees, hands folded underneath his chin.

“You’ve been doing your best to get my attention. Now that you have it. You seem a bit worried, Mama. It’s what you wanted. Right?”

Silence.

“Good girl. You finally learned how to listen and not talk. It’s a little shocking, honestly. You’ve had so much to say for the past two days. Now, when it seems you’re about to get the response you want, and then some. You don’t have shit to say.”

You could feel the heat radiating off of him. Fucked. That’s what you were. There were times when you would overdo it, pushing him too far. Tonight was going to be one of those nights. Pulling in a shaky breath, you continued to listen. Being pregnant, you didn’t know how he would play it. That alone sent a shiver down your body.

See, this is what my emotional, spoiled ass gets. It’s too late to turn back now. Dear sweet Kitty Kat, I wish you the best of luck, girl.

“What’s wrong, darlin’? You seem a bit nervous.”

More silence.

Rio leaned towards you, placing his hands on your plush thighs. He was so close your noses were an inch apart. He tilted his head, angling it to nip your bottom lip. Pulling back, his hand massaged your left cheek. It circled your skin as he leaned back in.

“My hands itching to wrap around your throat, Mama. You know I can’t act like this and do things like that when you’re carrying my child. I don’t take risks with my seed, and you know that. Playing with your oxygen supply is the same as messing with theirs. So why the fuck do you keep trying me,” he groaned.

“Baby, I’m-“

“Shhh.” He laid a gentle kiss on your lips. “You've been talking all day. Right now is a time for listening, darlin’.”

He leisurely rose from the couch, towering over you.

“Let’s put your mouth to better use. Yeah?”

Your breath hitched as his fingers threaded through your hair. Tugging it, he tilted your head back, pecking your lips again. Rio’s eyes held yours as his free hand dipped inside his sweatpants and briefs. Releasing and stroking his member, he hovered over you.

“You wanted some attention. Right, mama? You need dick? Open that pretty little mouth for me.”

Rio jerked your head forward. Hand still wrapped tightly around his thick length, he tapped it on your lips. Your mouth watered and instantly fell open.

“Now you want to be a good girl,” he groaned, swiping the head of his cock on the tip of your tongue.

You started to wrap your mouth around him, but he backed away. A whimper fell from your mouth. Rio held your chin, “I’ll tell you when you can eat it up, Mama,” he whispered, gently tapping your face with his girth.

“You so fucking fine. Wet juicy ass lips got my shit throbbing,” Rio moaned, bending down to kiss you again. Eyes blazing, you used your mouth to capture his thumb. You suckled it, giving him doe eyes. It was as if your beautiful orbs were pleading for him to give in. Your body was so wound up it screamed for some sort of relief. You so desperately wanted to taste him. Thoughts of him spilling his seed into your mouth had you salivating. Rio’s lips parted as his tongue did that snake motion you loved. He slid his thumb from your lips, moving it out of reach.

“Can’t even ruin you in the manner you deserve. I want to shove my dick in that pretty little mouth and fuck your throat until you choke. Damn, I want to leave you gasping for air, voice hoarse. You know I love the way you swallow the dick.”

 An appreciative whimper sounded from your lips. Rio’s eyes danced with excitement. He took joy at the needy and desperate look on your face. The rise and fall of your chest quickened as sinful sounds came from your sweet lips. 

“Look at you moaning and whimpering. That’s my nasty bitch. Does the thought of me shoving myself down that pretty little throat turn you on, mama? It makes you wet. Doesn’t it?”

You shivered and released a stuttered breath, “Daddy, please.” He smiled wickedly, “Damn, I love it when you beg, darlin’.”

“Christopher, please. I’m about to go crazy. I don't think I've ever wanted to swallow you down this bad. Please, Papa. I need you.”

A chuckle fell from his lips. Rio swallowed hard, and you could see the pulse dancing on the side of his neck. His eyes grew darker as he leaned close enough, and you felt his breath brush against your lips.

“You are so cute, mama. Beg as much as you want. The question is: Do you think you deserve it,” he whispered, peppering your lips with light kisses. The corners of his lips lifted, forming a smile as you panted the word yes. “Mm, no. I don't think so, darlin’. You've been stomping around, throwing tantrums, twisting and turning, rolling that neck for days now.”

Your impatience and temper got the best of you.

“If you're so tired of my damn attitude. Put me out of my misery already. You're the one being stingy with the dick! You can't find a few moments to love on your wife?”

There was that sinister smile once more. Rio’s hand went to wrap around your throat, but halfway he stopped. Closing it into a fist tightly, he forced it down to his side. He smirked, slowly opening his mouth to speak, “You’re letting these hormones rattle you, mama. They got you impatient as fuck and coming out of pocket.”

Tucking himself back into his sweats, Rio reclaimed his spot on the sofa. Leaning back into the cushions, he watched your face twist up in frustration.

“Fuck this. I’m going back upstairs. Sleep wherever you want. I don’t care.”

“Sit. Down,” Rio roared.

You froze, back still facing him.

“I’m getting tired of saying things twice,” Rio hissed. “Sit your ass down.”

You swung around and stomped to the coffee table to reclaim your seat.

“Not there. Come here.”

Standing in front of him, you crossed your arms over your chest.

“You beckoned? Dear sweet husband.”

Though Rio wore a thin smile, you could tell he didn’t find shit amusing. Glancing at his lap, he whispered, “Sit.”

You kissed your teeth, plopping into his lap. He pressed up against you, hands gripping your waist. “You enjoy making me tick. Don’t you darlin’?”

Not waiting for you to answer, one hand abandoned your waist. It slid into your hair, tugging at the strands. The action caused you to release something Rio couldn’t decipher. What had started as a gasp shifted to a whimper and ended as a moan. The sound caused his erection to twitch underneath you as he bit back a groan.

“Why are you giving Daddy a hard time? Thought you loved me, Mama,” he teased.

Your lips parted, but he tugged more, signaling you to remain silent.

“Don’t deny it, love. I’m over here fighting everything in me right now. I know how you want it. You ain’t in no condition for that, baby girl.”

“How do I want it, Papa,” you whispered breathlessly.

Rio’s hand trailed to the column of your neck. He gave it a light, gentle squeeze. Pulling your ear to his lips, he groaned, “You want that rough shit. Need me to choke you. Talk my shit and say all the nasty things you like. Pin you down, fuck you until you cry. That’s what you want, yeah,” he questioned, nipping at your earlobe.

A smirk danced across his face at the sound of your whimpering.

“Can’t you just do it as gently as possible? Please, you begged, grinding into his lap.

His growl bounced off the living room walls. It was a signal, a warning, but you couldn’t help yourself. Circling your hips, you pressed further into his erection. Rio hissed, “Behave. You really gotta chill, Mama.”

You stood long enough to turn and straddle his thigh. His hands cradled your small bump. Pecking his lips, you watched as Rio’s eyes fluttered closed. The two of you slipped into a sensual kiss. Your hips rolled as you started to grind your moist panties against his thigh.

“Papa, please. I’m begging you. I need you. I’ll take it any way you’d like.”

He sucked in a shallow breath, grasping your chin.

“I know you will. You don’t have a choice, mama.”

Cocky motha-.

“Keep grinding that slick little pussy against me, baby,” he rasped, grabbing up the globes of your behind. “Now I know you can do better than that. Grind harder,” he finished with a smack to each cheek. Mouths collided as your fingers traced patterns along the nape of his neck. Your tongues wrestled for dominance. His palms dug into your supple flesh, guiding you along the slick spot that started to form on his thigh.

“Damn, mama. Just the sound of my voice makes that little pussy weep, yeah?”

He watched you with pride, your eyes shut tight, breathing ragged. Rio moved his hands to your breast, giving them a light squeeze. He moaned as his teeth sunk into your bottom lip.

“Go a little faster. Pull yourself toward the edge, darlin’.”

Your body rocked faster against his drenched thigh as his hand crept until it found its way underneath your shirt, pulling at the hardened nipples.

“Christopher.”

“Hmm, baby? Talk to me, mama. What do you need from Daddy?”

The words got stuck in your throat, and you edged closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. Your head tilted back, and the mewl you released made all Rio’s blood rush to his thick member. He peppered kisses along the soft skin of your neck, cooing, “You close, baby girl? Hmm? Come on now, tell me how you feel, darlin’. Let me hear that pretty voice.”

“So damn close. Add a little pressure, Daddy. Press into me, please.”

Rio chuckled, lifting his thigh just enough to give you the desired pressure.

“That better, sweetheart?”

“Fuck,” you whispered. Ye-I’ma come. Please-.”

You started to tremble, signaling an explosive orgasm. Rio’s fingers gripped your waist, halting all movement. A high-pitched whine echoed throughout the room as you tried to power through his grasp and thrust your hips. His hold on you was too strong to fight. The teasing chuckle he gave frustrated you.

“Why would you do that? Don’t play with me like that, Rio,” you whimpered.

“Oh, you thought this was about to be easy? No, love. See where all the nagging and expectations got you. Playing with my patience had you believing I would let you have your way. Fuck that. You better work for that shit, mama. You know how I operate, and I ain’t feeling too generous right now.” He pinched your nipple, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth.

Shoving his shoulder, he fell back against the couch, pinning you with a mischievous glint.

“Ain’t shit funny, Rio. You’re pissing me off,” you snapped, pacing the hardwood floor.

“That makes two of us,” he countered, shrugging his shoulders.

“What happened to a happy wife, a happy life? I’m carrying your child. Where is the love?”

“So damn dramatic. You just knew you’d get your way, huh?”

You stopped, turning to face him. Your arms crossed your ample chest. Frustration ran deep in your mind. The two of you matched glare for glare.

Rio’s eyes darkened as he stood, walking toward you. He kissed you long and hard, backing you toward the living room wall. Your body shivered as you made contact with the chilled surface. He broke the kiss and rasped, “Should’ve used these past few minutes to make a convincing argument,” he tsked. “I don't even know if you deserve to come at this point, darlin’.”

Rio dropped to his knees, and you watched his head disappear underneath the fabric of your shirt. Heat pulsed throughout your core as you felt Rio pull fabric aside. Thousands of tiny sparks flooded your body as you felt his wet, warm tongue trail from the bottom of your dripping sex to the top. His middle and pointer fingers spread you open while the tip of his tongue danced around your bundle of nerves. You released a shuttered breath, head tilting back as your eyes fluttered closed. Without having to look up, Rio paused his licking and growled, “Keep you’re fucking eyes on me. Take off this damn shirt, and watch me eat this pussy up, mama.” 

Say less. I got you, Zaddy.

His eyes burned with passion at the sight of your breast. “You don’t need these either,” he rasped, tearing the panties from your body. Without another word, his head dipped back between your thighs. He teased you with nips and licks until you squirmed, begging for more. The pace had started achingly slow. His breath fanned your lower lips, “Look at you wiggling and shit. Are you aching for me, mama?” Rio inhaled your scent, “Damn, I’m about to eat this shit up.”

“Less talking. More licking, Papa,” you mewled, trying to thrust your heat back into his face. Rio leaned away.

“See, that’s your problem. You need to learn patience, mama. We don’t need to rush. Let me take my time and enjoy all this fine dining.”

“Truthfully, you get off on torturing me, don’t you?”

Instead of using his words, Rio answered with action. Still holding your lips apart, three fingers from the opposite hand pressed into your clit, rubbing wide circles slowly.

In a husky tone, he taunted, “Come on, sweetheart, I know you can get wetter than this.” Your sarcastic rebuttal halted as he continued, “Let me help you with that, ma.”

His words fully registered as you felt his saliva collide with your silky flesh. His mouth covered your lips again, alternating between slow, languid strokes and rapid, hungry licks. From the movement of his tongue to the way he gripped your thighs. Feeling everything at once was hurdling toward a powerful orgasm. His fingers rejoined the party, using them to fumble with your clit as he thrust his tongue into you.

“N-no, baby. Not ye-it’s too soon. S-slow down, fuck!”

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, trying to pull his fingers away. Rio swatted it as he hoisted you higher, locking his arms around your thighs.

“I thought you wanted to come though, Mama,” he teased. “Let me switch it up for you, yeah?”

His tongue replaced those same fingers, licking and sucking your sweet little nub like a man who hadn’t eaten in days.

“Oh! You fucking demon. Daddy, no,” you mewled, body starting to jerk. The sensation sent tingles throughout as your fist pounded against the wall. The digits of the other hand dug into his scalp. You felt him smile against your flesh, moaning and growling. Slipping three fingers inside, he flexed them, deliciously tapping your g-spot. The pace of his digits quickened as his lips wrapped around your abused clit, and he sucked as hard as he could. Your body writhed. The feeling was so intense you considered climbing the wall.

This bitch would go harder. I need to learn how to shut up.

Rio tsked again, “There’s nowhere for you to run, Mama. Daddy got you locked in,” he taunted, fingers speeding up a little more. “Thought this is what you wanted, hm? You've been crying for this all day. Is it too much for you, baby?” Rio’s fingers slipped out of you, and the palm of his hand delivered smacks over your lips. “Yeah! There we go! That’s that wet shit, mama.” Rio dove back in, the sounds of his mouth on your body growing more lewd by the second. All you could do was tremble and whimper. Rio groaned, his mouth devouring you. His words tickled your slick heat, “ You gon’ come for me? Hmm? My mouth got you leaking all over the place.” Your legs started to shake as his tongue lashed at your skin. 

“Answer me, ma,” he demanded, harsh yet sexy.

“Yes, fuck. I’m so close, shit!”

“Beg me to let you come.”

“Please, Papa! Let me come all over that sinfully delicious tongue.”

“I know you’re close. Look at that pretty little pussy squeezing around my fingers,” Rio teased, adding a fourth finger. “Look at these thick thighs shaking,” he taunted. Your husband took a moment to nip at your inner thighs. “Soft as fuck. Tastes so damn good.” His lips licked and sucked at the soft skin as he massaged your g-spot.

“Hold on a bit longer for me.”

His eyes glistened, and you knew Rio was about to make you suffer. There was something in his expression that just reeked of revenge. Minutes ticked by, and you were proven right: every torturous lick of his tongue was his getback. Every time his lips captured your bundle of nerves, it felt like he was trying to suck the soul out of you. He had brought you to the edge for the third time, only to slow down. Tears threatened to spill as you begged and pleaded. At this point, you were no longer begging him to come on his talented tongue. You just wanted him to wrap your legs around his waist and pound you into an earth-shattering orgasm. Twice, you had tried pulling his head away, pressing him to fuck you. Both times, Rio denied you and went right back to eating. His greedy mouth slurped at your juices, “Mm-mm, mama. Daddy’s still hungry.”

His tongue grazed your clit, causing your body to shiver with force. You cried out, “Rio, please! You have to let me come. I can’t do this anymore.” Tears trailed down your cheeks, tugging at his heart a bit. He kissed your nub once more before he pulled up from between your legs. Using the pads of his thumbs, he wiped at the remnants of your tears. Pecking your lips, his hands cradled your face. “I’m sorry, mama. Shh, I know, baby. I know. Breathe for me, catch your breath.”

How could your emotions be all over the place? Yet, every ounce of you still ached for him. Though you were irritated and pissed at the way he edged you. The need to be fucked and orgasm was still the top priority. You could curse him out later. Truthfully, you had done it to yourself. You knew pushing him too far was what brought you here. Patience and understanding had been an option that would have left you well rewarded. Instead, you had opted to try to force his hand.

I’m pregnant, horny, and a bit illogical at the moment. I want what the fuck I want, and I want it now.

Rio’s eyes locked with yours, his orbs still dark but sympathetic at the same time. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he swept hair that blocked your vision. Taking a deep breath, he leaned in, lips brushing against yours.

“I’ma stop fucking with you, mama,” he whispered, stealing a kiss.

Rio shushed your whimpering as his hands trailed back down your body and between your thighs. His fingers brushed your slit, collecting moisture along the way. His fingers slid lower until they reached the destination they were in search of. Two fingers penetrated you as his free hand tweaked your nipple. You sucked in a sharp breath as his digits tapped against that special place in warp speed.

“R-rio. Oh, God,” you mewled. “No, please. I want you inside. I need you inside me, baby. Why won’t you just-.”

His head fell into the crook of your neck as you pleaded. An anguished growl echoed against your throat.

“I can’t right now, mama. I just can’t,” he responded helplessly as his fingers kept slamming into you. “Give it to me, mama. I know you can’t hold it anymore. Come for me, baby girl,” he moaned against your skin.

“But why? Oh! Fuck! Y-yes. God, yes,” you cried, falling over the edge.

“Fuck, mama. My arm’s soaked,” he groaned, breath shallow, as he trailed kisses down your neck. He waited for you to respond, but the only sound he heard was sniffling. Rio pulled back with a quickness, hands cradling your face once more. He kissed you, “What’s wrong, mama? Why are you crying?”

“Are you not attracted to me anymore?”

“Mama. Don’t start. Why wouldn’t I be attracted to you? That’s a wild ass question. Please don’t take this wrong, but these hormones got you all messed up. You know better than to ask me such a ludicrous question.” 

Your eyes started to water again, and Rio threw his head back, running his hand down his face. Releasing a long sigh, “Don’t start again, mama. You’re all over the place today. One minute, you’re cursing me out, trying to push me away. The next minute, you’re on me. I damn sure can’t keep up with the mood swings today. Now I’m getting pissed all over again because you're questioning my love for you.”

“It’s a simple question, Rio. Something must be wrong since you won’t fuck your wife. It can’t be that bizarre of a question. Just admit it. I’m gaining weight (not to mention I was already plushie before), so you’re not interested.”

“What number mood swing is this?”

“Fuck you, Rio.”

“You’d like that? A fuck. Wouldn’t you?”

“Such a dickish response!”

You stormed away, ignoring his demands not to walk away from him. Upon entering your bedroom, you slammed the door. Climbing under the covers, you snuggled down until you found a comfortable spot. He didn’t immediately follow you upstairs. Sinking back into the couch, he tried to calm his temper. 

Rio’s mood/urge was why Y/N hadn’t gotten what she wanted in the first place. He was right back to being as pissed as he was earlier. It was all the more reason to stay where he was until he could calm himself. During the first round of this sexually charged argument, it had taken every fiber in him not to fuck you relentlessly. No matter how bad you both wanted it. He wasn’t comfortable with manhandling you at a time like this.

He tilted his head back against the cushions and chuckled to himself. Looking back over the day, you had been a pain in the ass. However, Rio loved that you were adamant about getting what you desired.

The fact that she thinks there’s a way for me to be gentle and rough in that sort of head space is laughable. I love this crazy ass woman.

He replayed the last of your conversation. Guilt crept in as he remembered how your lip trembled as you fought back tears of frustration and neediness while leaving the room. Thinking the situation over, Rio started to hold himself accountable. He knew what to expect at times like this. If he was being honest, having another baby was mainly his idea. That thought alone had him shaking his head and smirking.

This woman is going to drive me insane. She can’t be serious thinking I’m not attracted to her right now because she’s pregnant. If anything, that makes my dick harder. These kinks, man. Her ass knows I love her any size. Mama knows I love it when she’s stupid thick. Damn, I want to bend her ass over something. Just wait until baby girl or boy gets here. I’m going to remember every single mood swing and attitude. Like that man Miguel once said, that pussy gon’ be mine. Let me check on her mean ass. Remember to remain calm, Rio.

He flipped off all the lights downstairs and made sure everything was locked up tight. It was pitch black in the master suite. Rio entered quietly, not wanting to wake you. The faint sounds of sniffles came from under the covers on your side of the bed. Your husband’s head hung low at the sounds, shaking it side to side in disbelief. Sadness ached deep in his chest. It had never been his intention to make you feel unwanted. He certainly didn’t mean for you to feel unattractive. You had pushed him to that place of uncertainty. Rio didn’t trust himself enough to remain gentle. His anger had been raging off and on for the past two days. It was time for him to set the record straight and make things right.

Self-control, my boy. Self-control. I may not be able to choke her. Let that mouth get to firing off again. I’ma spank this woman. Lord, help me.

He approached your side of the bed, attempting to lower the comforter, but it wouldn’t budge. You grumbled, “Don’t, Christopher. Just get in bed. Let’s get some rest. We can discuss this in the morning.” The fabric of the blankets muffled your voice a bit, but Rio could hear how you fought back tears.

Rio gently rubbed what he believed to be your hip. “Don’t hide from me,” he rasped.

“I’m not. Goodnight, Papa.”

He lowered his head, rubbing soothing circles against your back. He stood there a few moments, trying to find a way to make things better. A thought entered his mind. His head leaned to the side as he gave a quick head nod. Heading to his side of the bed, Rio checked his notifications one last time, setting the ringer to silent. He grabbed an item from the nightstand, setting it to the side. Rio got into bed, sliding closer. The feeling of his chest pressing against your back as he joined you under the covers.

“You still mad at me, Mama,” he questioned, leaving butterfly kisses against your skin. “You gon’ forgive me, hm?”

“Shut up, Rio,” you responded with a giggle and sniffle.

“You know you’re crazy for thinking that bullshit, right? I love you, mama. Don’t you know that you’re my favorite person in this world? I love you for life, woman,” he explained. “I’ll always be attracted to you, no matter what. You’re my heart and world, baby girl.” Rio nibbled at your neck. “Those better be happy sniffles, he teased.

“They are, trust me. Thank you for the reassurance, Papa,” you responded, voice still shaky.

His fingers caressed your thighs, drawing small patterns on your flesh, lips peppering kisses against a bare shoulder back to the soft spot below your ear.

“Papa, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m still wet from earlier,” you whispered, lower lips tingling again.

Rio shushed you as his tongue swept across the column of your neck. “You looked so damn good in those jeans with the heels. You just had to get me hard while I was working. Didn’t you? How am I supposed to focus with images of fucking you against my desk floating through my head?”

“I just wanted to see you, baby.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

His hand slid between soft thighs, swiping at the moisture pooling between your folds.

“Always wet. Forever ready for me. Shit. Give me those lips, ma.”

Both of you tried to take control of the kiss until his fingers pulled away. You huffed, “Not this shit again-Oh! Shit,” you moaned. Not only had he placed his hand back where it was, but you felt a lovely buzzing sensation against your clit. “Yes,” you whispered.

“Been waiting for the right time to break this out. You’ve been rambling on about that damn toy, so I bought you a rose, Mama. How’s that feel?” Unable to speak, you answered with a sweet sigh. Rio’s lips connected to your temple. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughed, increasing the speed.

Between his lips and the toy, you hadn’t noticed Rio tugging down his sweatpants. The kiss broke as you mewled. He bit his lip, watching you gasp at the feel of the rose pressed against your nub while his aching erection slid back and forth against your folds. The leaking tip dipped in and out of your spasming channel. The covers kicked down to the foot of the bed as Rio’s hungry gaze drank in the writhing of your bodies. His breathing quickened, listening to your faint moans.

“I think we’re both a bit calmer now. Don’t you agree, Mama,” he questioned, sucking in a breath at the wetness pulling around his tip.

If you had heard him, Rio didn’t wait for a response. He reclaimed your mouth, sinking his thick, veiny rod inside you.

“Got Damn,” you both moaned in unison.

“That’s a good girl. Take it all, Mama. So fucking tight. Grip that shit.”

Burying your head in your pillow, you trembled, moaning repetitively. Rio’s hands sunk into the plushness of your waist. His finger sunk deeper, pressing your behind into his lap. Pumping you slowly, you felt his hips do that circular motion. 

“Faster, Daddy. Please go faster.”

“Whatever you say, love,” he answered, pulling your hair and snapping his hips harder. “The settings go higher, baby.” Shifting the rose to its highest voltage, he growled at the screams that bounced around the room.

“T-too much. Fuck!”

“No, ma. You got this. Take that shit. Don’t you want me to make that pussy feel good, yeah? Yes, baby. Oh, shit. Take it, baby. Just let me pound that pretty little flower.”

Every thrust sent you higher. Your fingers dug into Rio’s hand as you thrashed about the bed.

“You keep fucking me like this. I’m not going to last much longer,” you whined.

“You got that. Go on and wet that shit up, mama. Fall apart. Come for, Daddy. I’ll put you back together and break you apart again. Don’t bury your face in the pillow. Let me hear you come loud and clear. Come for me right fucking now,” he demanded, giving your ass a hard smack.”

“Fu-Chris! Baby,” you screamed, body tensing, shaking violently. Kisses danced along your temple. Whimpers continued to fall from your lips, the aftershocks sending waves throughout your body. Rio attempted to center and bring you back down from the high.

“You’re good, mama. I got you. Good job,” he praised. 

You couldn’t imagine a better way to end a long day. At least that's what you thought until Rio decided to take it one step further.

“I’m not finished with you yet, baby girl,” he whispered.

Rio slid out of you, laying on his back, while he waited for you to turn toward him. Your face hovered over his. Staring lovingly into his eyes, you spoke softly.

“Tell me what you need, Papa,” you questioned, stroking his jaw.

He reached for your leg, bringing it over his to straddle him. Hands traveled the length of your body, stopping to cup your breast. Through body language alone, the communication was clear. Giving him a gentle nod, lip tucking between your teeth. Rio felt your digits wrap around his length, rising just enough. You slowly slipped his throbbing length into the slick cavern. The two of you moaned in unison.

Rio sat up, wrapping his arms around your waist. You rode him slow and steady. Biting your lip, he encouraged you, “Mm, that's it, mama. You feel so good.” He wrapped his lips around your nipple, tongue circling it hungrily. Giving it a playful bite pulled a meal from your lungs. Releasing the taut bud, Rio whimpered, “Keep squeezing me. Just like that. Fuck.”

He tugged one of your hands from his shoulder, placing the digits around the column of his throat. He smirked as your eyes widened.

“I can’t choke you, so why don’t we switch shit up? You be me for a change, mama. Be rough with Daddy, yeah?”

A tremble coursed through you at the thought of it.

“It’s your body, mama. You’re in control. Ride me as hard as you can stand it.” He pecked your lips, cooing, “Are you going to ride your daddy nice and hard, hm? This is your dick. Take it, mama,” he insisted, giving your bottom another slap.

Pushing at his chest, you laid him back against the mattress. Your hand tightened around his throat as your hips circled, taking him as deep as possible. Your head fell back as your speed increased.

“Oh,” you cried. “Daddy!”

“Look at me,” he gasped.

Your face floated above his, and you started to bounce erratically. Rio’s face twisted up as he grunted your name. The hold on his throat tightened, causing him to bite his lip harder. You felt his hands spank and grip your cheeks. The two of you entered a lip lock as the headboard banged against the wall. Coming up for air, you felt him twitch inside you.

“Fuck, Mama. I’m about to nut. Is that what you want, baby? Do you want to be filled up? Yeah, I know you do, darlin’. F-fuck! Come with me, mama! Right now!”

You both plummeted over the edge, calling out each other’s name. Trying to keep balance, your hands rested against Rio’s chest. He sat up, pulling you into an embrace. Leaving kisses all over your face, you giggled breathlessly. His arm reached around your waist, guiding you to lie down comfortably.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. Stay right here. I got you, mama.”

Rio disappeared into the bathroom, returning moments later with a warm towel. With the aftercare complete, he quickly got himself together. Making his way to the kitchen, Rio returned with a glass of ice water for you.

“Drink up. You need to replenish, ma.”

“Thank you, Papa. What about you, though?”

“Drank it downstairs, " he responded, cuddling up to you.

“So we’re switching roles now? Is that what we are doing,” you teased.

Rio’s laugh bellowed throughout the room. “Listen, ma. You’re little thirsty ass needed that rough shit. I figured since I’m not doing that right now. You can get your fix if I relinquish a little bit of that power. Temporarily, of course.” He gave your shoulder a playful bite. “You should know I’m keeping tabs for the remainder of this pregnancy.”

“Tabs? What tabs?”

“I’m keeping a mental log of every time you act up. The moment the doctor clears you. That thick ass will be stinging, and you won’t be able to walk straight for a few weeks. Maybe a month,” he shrugged, nonchalance written on his handsome face. His eyes reduced to slits, “Breath play’s about to be a beast for you, mama. Hate it for you.”

“No, you don’t, liar.”

“You said it. Not me,” Rio shrugged.

He felt your fist collide with his arm.

“Aye, chill out now. You know what, let me put this shit in my notes. What is this? That makes at least eight offenses. For the day alone.”

“Whatever. Goodnight, crybaby.”

“Says the woman that’s been crying all night.”

“Don’t piss me off again, Rio. Go to sleep. Keep in mind that you won’t be leaving for work on time. I can tell that I’ll be just as needy in the morning. Have my dick ready.”

“Just admit that you only want me for my body,” he teased.

You kissed your teeth and mugged his forehead.

“Aye! Chill. Where my kisses at?”

Rio pulled your leg over his waist, cradling your bump, and kissed you goodnight.

What did y'all think about that roller coaster? Hope you enjoyed it. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, lovelies 💕!

lovelies💕:

@darqchilddaydreamz @4everbrookemarie @fineanddandy @rio-reid-whoreee @novaniskye @that-one-anxious-mango @1andonlytashae @blkbutterfly816 @lovedlover @vanityinvenus

@librarian1002 @banana123pudding @fezcosonlylove @sunshine-flower @invisiblegiurl

@astoldbychae @amorestevens @starrynite7114 @alertyoulikeitsamber

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

Pretty like poetry ◦ l.f

-felix always tended to hate the freckles that adorned his face, believing they were blemishes that deserved to be hidden under layers of foundation, but what will he do when you convince him that his freckles were pretty—pretty like poetry?

Paring◦ Lee Felix x Fem!Reader

Words◦ 2681

Genre ◦ Fluff with i think some hurt and comfort low on the hurt heavy on the comfort

Warnings ◦ Felix being kinda dramatic, he's also really insecure(felt), Weird dialogue (I wrote this half alseep please bare with me, babes), honestly there's nothing in here but some cute hurt and comfort where you spend the night at his house and you catch him barefaced🤷, spelling errors and shitty punctuation (you're on my page what's new).

A/N ◦ to all the people that say felix's freckles are like stars I promise I'm not targeting you guys I'm just yapping and that's what my brain came up with please don't like come at me 😭🙏 this is just a silly little fic I wrote to try to practice my "poetry" skills idk what half of this is but hey what can you do 🤷 also I really fuck with the mood board on this REMBER IF YOU LIKE IT PLEASE TELL ME I GET REALLY INSECURE ABOUT MY WRITING okay enough yapping for one night hope you enjoy pretty <3

Your relationship with Felix was still budding like a freshly planted flower, waiting for the petals to unfurl. You liked Felix. You really, really liked Felix, but there were still a few things you hadn't done with him yet, like bake brownies, sit under the stars while you secretly stared at him instead of the sky, shared an ice cream cone under the hot summer sun, but spending the night at his house was long past due, especially after the 4-hour movie night filled with giggles, kisses, and popcorn being thrown all over the place, your throat was still sore from the amount of laughing you two were partaking in. He made you feel safe, happy, loved, and that's all that matters right now, that, and when he shyly offered for you to spend the night, how could you refuse, with his red ears and fidgeting fingers making you just want to fold him up and stuff him in your pocket, never letting the gross evil world dull his sparkle.

You rub the towel over your hair before hanging it back up on the rack and walking out into the bedroom, fresh from your shower. You smirk, noticing the way his eyes widen, scraping over your body, adorned with the baggy clothes he lent you.

He isn't getting these back.

You flop onto the bed, bouncing into his arms.

"Hi darling," he beams, looking down at you with sparkling eyes and, well, sparkling cheeks too. You squint, wondering if what you were suspecting was true. As he tilts his face away from yours, you notice it in the glint of the light.

He still has his makeup on.

You furrow your brows. "Are you going to take your makeup off?" You ask, words feeling heavy on your tongue.

"Oh," his eyes linger away from yours. "No, I'm too tired," he smiles, but it's weak, fitting weird on his mouth. Concern worms its way into your bones.

“You shouldn't leave makeup on your face overnight, Felix; it can hurt your skin,” you say, carefully grazing a finger over his smooth cheek. He grabs your wrist gingerly, watching you with wide, glittering eyes.

“I just want to hold you right now. Can I do that?" You stare at him cautiously, debating whether you should press the issue further. “Please,” he whispers. You can tell in the soft hues of his irises; he's begging you to drop it, so you do, reluctantly, of course.

“Fine,” you sigh, your eyelids drooping as you pull the covers over your shoulders, shimming into the mattress to get comfortable. His muscular arm wraps around your waist, dragging you into his warm chest.

“Don't be mad, please,” he mumbles, leaving soft kisses on the top of your head. You turn over to face him, your brows turned in worry.

"I'm not mad, I promise Lix, I just don't want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Trust me, darling, I'm anything but uncomfortable, especially with my beautiful girlfriend lying in the same bed as me.” He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His deep voice makes your cheeks flare with heat, flustered beyond what should be scientifically possible.

“Will you stop trying to rizz me up and go to bed?" You shriek into his shirt, he chuckles, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest.

"Rizz is an interesting word to use; I like that, actually."

"Turn the light off." You whine, pulling the cloth over your eyes.

"Flustered, baby?" He teases.

Oh, it's on.

He wants to battle; he's getting the whole war.

You don't know what came over you as you snaked your hand under the hem of his tee shirt, running your fingers across the hard ridges of his abs. His breath hitches in his throat. You tilt your chin up, resting it on his chest.

“Flustered, baby?” Your tone is smooth and sultry, his eyes are screwed up, lip curled into his teeth.

“Baby,” he chokes as you slip your hand higher.

"You sure you don't wanna turn off that light?"

"Yep, yes, on that r-right now," he stutters, scrambling to turn off the lights, especially as heat crawls up his ears, flushing across his cheeks. You giggle as the room spills into darkness, butterflies filling your stomach when he pulls your head back on his chest.

"You know, I'm surprised I still have a neck with the amount of whiplash you just gave me. I mean, there you were, all red cheeks and all of a sudden boom! Fingers, abs, and me, red cheeks," he rambles, squeezing you closer. "Your duality is truly insane."

You chuckle, loving the way his body engulfs you, pulling you under the waves of warmth and slumber. Silence creeps between the two of you until-

“Thank you for staying,” He whispers.

"Always.” You manage to utter right before-

You

D r o w n.

You don't remember when you woke up or what got you to the bathroom; you just know you're there, and with the need to pee becoming pretty overwhelming without thinking, you go to turn the knob.

"Wait," Felix screeches, slamming his body against the door.

 “Fuck Felix” You jump back, your heart practically hopping out of your chest. You gasp, holding yourself onto the door frame. If you were even a little bit sleepy then, you are wide the fuck awake now, your heart still thumping wildly in your ribcage.

“I need to pee. Can I come in?”

“No! Don't come in here, please!” He begs.

“Why? Felix, you only have one bathroom; if we aren’t close enough to use the bathroom in front of each other, that's fine. I just really need to pee. Now, can I please come in?”

He stops, waits for a few moments.

“You can’t turn on the light, and you have to shut your eyes."

“Felix, what?” You ask, exasperated, almost ready to just open the door and make him explain why he's tripping balls over something so trivial as using the bathroom. “What's really going on?” You're met with silence before a small whisper lingers from behind the wood. You could almost see it, his insecure frame curled into itself.

"I'm barefaced." Your gaze softens

"Felix,” you chuckle, “do you really think I care about something like that, especially at this time of night I can barely see my toes, let alone you, please?” You beg, your voice airy and light trying to dull is anxiety for the sake of your bladder and his dignity. “I'm coming in.” You turn the knob, but its quickly met with the door locking.

"No, stop it, y/n, I'm serious."

"What's the matter with you?" You huff, annoyance creeping into your veins, no matter how hard you push it back.

"I'm not ready to show you what I look like without makeup yet, okay!" He snaps, aggravated over something that seems so trivial to you. He should know you would never care about something as shallow as his bareface. He's gorgeous, with or without makeup. You know that, apparently, he doesn't.

"Felix," You sigh, your voice Is laced with sympathy, hoping to coax him out of this insecure rut he has himself in.

"Please," You lean your head on the door. Sometimes you wish you could serve him your heart on a silver platter—show him that it will only ever beat for him. Then, maybe, it would be enough to prove that no matter what he looks like under all those layers of foundation, it will never be enough to cut the little red string that ties your souls together.

The gears of the lock click under your hand.

"Okay, ground rules, before you can come in-"

You groan, banging your forehead on the frame.

"Felix," you whine, "I'm not kidding, I really need to pee."

"Y/n please," he whimpers, a desperate tilt in his voice, you can almost taste the anxiety in his tone, you cave, your heart cracking in two.

"Okay… You can't laugh at me-" You scoff, folding your arms in front of your chest defensively.

"You know I would never do that I-"

"See that's the thing! No, I don't, okay, I don't, so it's taking everything in me to open this door, so, please," his voice cracks slightly, "just let me say my piece... no laughing, no comments," he stops for a second as though he's thinking up another bullet to add to the list. "O-Okay, I think that's all," he says, words tumbling out in a nervous rush. You hear footsteps moving away from the door.

"Is it safe to come in?" You ask.

"Yeah," he clears his throat, anxiously. You pull the door open carefully, easing your way into the threshold, acting like you're walking into an active warzone. As soon as you reach the edge of the door, a hand covers your eyes.

He doesn't know why he did it; in a nervous fit of insecurity, he slapped his palm over your face.

"Felix," you yelp, "what the hell!"

"I-Im sorry, I-I just-" He feels so stupid—so pathetic—wondering why hes acting so childish about something as simple his bare face.

"Felix, can you take your hand off my eyes." He knows you don't mean it mockingly, but the way you tilt your words like you're talking to a rabid dog or an anxious toddler, makes embarrassment rip in the pit of his stomach.

"Fine," he mumbles taking his hand off your face, "J-Just remember! No laughing and no comments, o-okay, promise me!"

"I promise." You mutter as your lashes flutter open.

His heart pounds wildly in his chest, eyes darting to the floor. The last fraying string of courage he's desperately grasping at is enough for his feet to stick to the floor, but definitely not enough for him to look into your eyes. Heat crawls up his cheeks under your gaze, curling into himself—he feels so foolish like this—anxiety flooding his stomach, making his hands shake behind his back, something so minuscule, and yet he's having such a physical reaction.

You assess him, taking him all in, and as your lingering gaze stays on his face for a few seconds too long, he wants to die, fold himself up a million times. Just enough so you wouldn't look at him like that, just so he could ease the burning sense of vulnerability that rages underneath his skin.

Why are you looking at him like that?

Why aren't you saying anything?

He really wishes he didn't make that no-comment rule because now you're here, and you're looking at him, and you're perfect, and you're not saying anything.

You raise a finger to graze the freckle, which just rests underneath the fragile skin of his eye. His breath hitches, flinching away from your touch.

"Your beautiful, Felix." you gasp, voice filled with sincerity.

what?

 The earth tilts on its axis as he stares at you like you're the biggest dummy on the whole planet.

"Really?" his voice trembles with the weight of his vulnerability. It shouldn't be this big of a deal; one simple Google search and you'd be flooded with images of a barefaced Felix, but seeing it in person seemed more real, more raw. It's easy to be vulnerable behind a screen of faceless, screaming fans, but when it's you, it's different. No matter how much your eyes fill with admiration, his thick skull can't seem to sink it in, the weight of his insecurity blocking all contact with the truth. 

For years, he was told that his freckles were blemishes—that his skin needed to be flawless, a pristine, perfect white; Grade school, trainie camp, JYP studios, every fan-sign, photoshoot, concert, and music video. It felt like everywhere he looked, he was being judged, but getting it from you would feel like a paper cut turned bullet wound. 

"Your pretty Felix, but, b-but-" You search for the words, but they can't seem to come to you, an unfathomable emotion sinking into your soul.

"B-But, but what?" he stammers, nervously wrapping trembling fingers around your wrist to pull your hand away.

"I don't know how to describe it" you whisper, brows scrunched in such a deep concentration it makes him sink into himself, wishing you weren't looking at him so hard, like he was a puzzle you were trying to solve. Time seems to blur between the two of you; nothing else mattering, but the beating of your heart and the words you are trying to weave together in an attempt to make a metaphor viable enough to suit what you are trying to express, but you always came up short—sentences seeming superficial, inept, under your careful consideration.

You always knew he had freckles, the way they would shine underneath thick layers of foundation when the sun hit his face just right; they had always reminded you of stars, but stars felt overused, worn out.

Stars died.

Stars faded.

Stars were a million miles away.

Stars were something physical, but what he made you feel wasn't physical, it was spiritual, it touched you unto the deepest depths of your soul, only a feeling some form of art could invoke. His freckles were unique, his freckles were little promises on the skin, little angel kisses.

He was pretty like poetry, cause poetry wasn't supposed to be perfect; it was supppsed to make you feel something.

"W-What?" he whispers, eyes shining with a deep form of admiration—pure joy dancing on his features like a weight had been lifted from his chest, and he could finally breathe again.

"Did I say that out loud?" you chuckle, your cheeks turning a light shade of pink, bashful about your cheesy insights. Your lips must have loosened when you searched too deep in your head, "S-Sorry," you stutter, suddenly feeling incredibly stupid for making such a statement.

You're pretty like poetry, what the hell does that even mean? You turn your head to dig it into his shoulder, groaning into his skin and wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Thank you for that." He whimpers, voice crackling with emotion as his lips linger on the top of your head. You don't realize he's crying until you feel water dripping on your hair, you reel your head back surprised.

"Oh my gosh, Felix!" you cup his face to wipe his tears; it was as though a button was switched in your brain to go into full comfort mode.

"I'm so sorry if what I said hurt you, I didn't mean-" you begin, your heart crumbling into a million little pieces in your chest, knowing that the words you threw around so carelessly hurt him. He interrupts you, softly holding your wrists in his hands.

"They're happy tears, I promise." He sniffles, wiping his cheeks with the back of his arm, "T-Thats just the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me" he hiccups.

"Maybe that's because everybody was too enamored with your beauty to know what to say?" He lightheartedly shoves your face away, pulling a giggle out of you. "If you don't shut up, you might just make me fall for you." You snake your arms around his neck, ghosting your lips over his, "and what if I want you too?" you whisper, sparks crackling between the two of you, "what if I already have?" you beam, finally pressing your lips to his.

Fiction always used to tell you that a true loves first kiss was all fireworks and electricity, but even fairy tales forgot to mention, when your lips lock for the first time it isn't just the fire that ignites your soul, no, it's the overwhelming feeling that you could be separated by raging seas, roaring oceans, stretches of time, lumps of land, you could be placed on different planets divided by spills of stars surrounding the milky way galaxy, and he would still find a way to love you. It was cheesy, yes, but it was Felix, and with Felix, everything felt like poetry, because poetry wasn't supposed to be perfect it was supposed to make you feel something.

[toxicanonymity]

Happy Easter Hun, I was wondering if you could do dark! Joel miller x reader where Joel's the neighbor next door and creeps into your house at night and just fucks you some CNC? Thanks queen✨

Sleeping beauty

700 | dark!Joel x f!Reader | master list

A/N: mood board by @milla-frenchy 🖤. Sounds like night walks vibes, maybe a timeline divergence or a future where you've admitted to yourself and Joel that you like it when he takes you forcefully and anything in this fic is on the table. This includes ideas from @xdaddysprincessxx @dark-scape , and anon. Can read alone.

WARNINGS: 18+ NSFW CNC (r^pe kink/consensual non-con, he knows she wants a struggle), unsafe PIV, noncon somnophilia (in ur sleep), drugs (chloroform), restraints, gagging, forced orgasm, forced breeding, maybe more idk he's a menace.

--------------------

"Shhhhhhhh." A hand covers your mouth. Your eyes blink open, and as you adjust to the dark, there's a brief moment of panic when you see his head so close to yours. He's straddling you, pinning you to the bed while he tugs your panties down. Your shirt has already been pulled up over your tits. When your panties are down to your knees, his hand engulfs your dripping seam. "Dreamin' of me, pumpkin?"

Maybe you were.

His fingers slide up and down together, then circle your clit. You're already knotting with tension. He plunges two digits into you and your hips reflexively lift into his hand. You try to roll away from him, but you're no match for his strength. As your eyes adjust, you can see the silhouette of his messy hair in the moonlight and his arm muscles burst out of his tight, white t-shirt as he holds you down. You've never seen such bulky triceps.

"One word and I’ll put you out," he warns before slowly lifting his hand off your mouth.

He pulls down the waistband of his PJ pants and rests them under his balls. His thick, stiff cock stands menacingly at attention.

"Damn you looked hot dreamin' about this cock." His voice is low and gruff.

His knee pries your legs open. His hand guides the tip of his cock to your entrance, then he shoves himself into you with a grunt and you sigh.

"Sleepin' Beauty," he whispers as he retreats. He plunges into you full-force again and bottoms out with a muted groan. His neck veins bulge.

“Sure are filthy for a Disney princess.”

He lowers his head to your neck and sucks as he rams his stiff cock into you rhythmically.

"Takin' this cock real good," he whispers as he pounds you. Your core tightens with tension as he fills you up.

He drags his beard across your jaw, scratching you, then he latches onto your neck again, sucks harder, and marks you.

The word falls out of your mouth before you can stop it. “Don’t.”

He sighs. “What’d I tell ya princess?”

He reaches down by your bed where he stashed his bag, then covers your mouth and nose with a mysterious, damp rag.

-

When you wake up, he’s still inside you. Railing you. There’s a cloth gag in your mouth. Your knees are up, legs spread, with him in between. Your wrists are tied to your shins with shoelaces. He pauses, all the way inside you.

"Look what I found,” he says and turns on your vibrator. You were using it earlier tonight while he watched you from outside. He thought about interrupting you but spilled his cum in your grass instead and decided to come back later.

He brings the toy right to your clit and firmly presses it into you. He starts fucking you slowly again, his thick cock filling you up each time. He sets it there for a minute and moves the vibrator against you with his hips. He grunts and groans softly.

Your back arches as your insides tighten and release, and he groans "yeeeeah, yeah, c'mon baby."

He's not done with you yet. He goes harder. You gasp and squirm at the overstimulation and he holds you still with his arm.

"Attta girl, let it ride princess."

Your eyes prickle with tears and your body can hardly take it. He looks to be struggling too. Holding his breath and randomly releasing it.

Every few thrusts, he bottoms out and lingers deep inside, slowly rocking his hips into you, his tip grinding against your g-spot.

It isn't long before you come full force again. And thank God, when your tight cunt begins to choke him, he groans with a shudder then erupts inside you. He thrusts into you slower as he empties his balls with a loud sigh.

He ungags you, then collapses with his head between your legs. As his cum trickles out of you, he puts it back in with his fingers. He rests his head on your inner thigh. He looks up at you for a moment. You can only see half his face in the moonlight but he raises his eyebrows and his lips barely curl into a faint smile that says yeah, you like it. Then, he returns his attention between your legs. He gives your clit a kiss and whispers to your cunt, "sleep tight" before disappearing into the night.

-

Btw the restraints/position/was from @xdaddysprincessxx, vibrator & forced orgasm from @xdaddysprincessxx and Anon, resting his head and looking up at you from @dark-scape

-

NW: @tehweeana @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea. @evyiione

If you wanted to be tagged in night walks stuff please remind me 😫 can't find the list lmao

Also trying to figure out if I should even post every ask when there are multiple combined in an answer. There are some days where I'll get like, a lot, and often a couple are similar, which is cool. I just don't wanna spam people with notifs on so I might stop answering them all with a link, IF I can bear to delete them lol.

[dearsnow]

PERFECT

- when a storm threatens to ruin your picture perfect wedding, a stranger and his guitar save the day. (bradley “rooster” bradshaw x fem!reader, wedding fluff, if i see the word “perfect” one more time i think i’m going to throw up, part of the “wedding bells” collection, ⚠️ mentions of alcohol / being drunk but it’s very minor)

• mood board

word count: 1,269

a/n - this was inspired by a tiktok video of a couple having their first dance as a married couple in a hotel basement because of a tornado evacuation 🥹 it genuinely almost made me cry because it was so sweet and such a special moment. cheers to that couple, happy belated birthday bradley bradshaw, and enjoy the fic <3 p.s. if you want to read their vows i can type up what i think they would say

“And do you, Bradley Bradshaw, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, your best friend, and your life’s love?” The officiant speaks. Bradley has tears in his eyes, and it takes everything in you not to drop his hands and wipe them with the pad of your thumb. You’re crying, too, the emotion choking you. You almost couldn’t speak a few seconds earlier, when it was your turn. Everything is just so perfect.

The wedding bouquet held by your maid of honor is a combination of your favorite flower and his, and you’re standing under a flowery arch, the sound of waves behind you. The soft grass underneath your shoes is full and green and sandy. And, God, does Bradley look gorgeous.

His hair is styled down to the last hair, his mustache is trimmed, and his crisp suit hugs him well. In his opinion, you look even better. He could hardly believe his eyes when you stepped out to walk down the aisle, and the waterworks started soon after.

He takes a breath. “I do.”

The officiant smiles, his eyes crinkling as he takes you both in. “Then I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Time seems to slow as Bradley pulls you in, cupping the back of your head and dropping the other to your waist, dipping you back. His lips meet yours not a second later, and the beach erupts in cheers. All you can hear is muffled clapping as you kiss him, eyes closed, trusting that his strong arms will not let you tumble into the ground. Everything is so soft yet so passionate, like his hands when he slides them across your shoulders or his hair when you tangle your fingers in it. When you come up for air, breathless, the world snaps into motion.

As soon as you pull away, the sky gives a mighty rumble. Your gaze snaps to the clouds hanging over your quaint area. You’d noticed them coming in, of course, but you figured it was just the normal sea haze. As a drop of rain hits your perfectly done-up face, you know you were wrong.

“Shit.” Bradley mumbles. “Baby, I think we need to take a rain check.”

The guests begin to scramble, the more helpful ones picking up their chairs and making a beeline for the covered canopy that encapsulates a small section of the beach. Lightning sets the sky ablaze as people scramble out of the water and off the sand, heading for that same cramped canopy. You can hear thunder rumbling away as your now-husband shields your face with his suit jacket, ushering you towards cover.

For the nth time today, you feel like crying— this time, though, a negative emotion drives the feeling. You had everything planned out so perfectly, and the rain has come to ruin it. You even picked out a beautiful early-summer day with moderate temperatures and no chance of rain to avoid situations like this. You were going to have your first dance on the beach, for fuck’s sake, after swapping your heels for a matching pair of sandals. Now you wouldn’t even have one at all.

The canopy is barely big enough for your wedding party, not to mention the guests and random people that were caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. You sigh, words heavy in your mouth. “If you have a car nearby, it might be better if you just go on home. I don’t know when, or if, the rain will let up.”

The crowd gives a soft murmur as a few people dash out into the rain. Before long, the only people left are those who are closest to you. You guess they don’t want to leave you alone when the happiest day of your life just got soaked in sky water. There’s another random guy, though, carrying what looks to be a very expensive acoustic guitar. He looks out into the rain cautiously, judging whether or not he can shield the guitar with his jacket before the instrument inevitably gets soaked. He pulls his head back and meets your eyes. You look away. You can’t do this right now, any of it.

Bradley places a comforting hand on your lower back and rubs it through the fabric of your wedding dress. His brows are furrowed tightly, but he doesn’t speak. He can’t, really, no one can. All you manage to choke out is one watery sentence.

“We didn’t even dance yet.” You sniffle. Bradley pulls you into a hug and you don’t protest, even though it’s sure to mess up your hair. You press your face fully into his shoulder, the smell of cologne and flowers invading your senses. It’s almost comforting. You don’t even notice the guy with the guitar clearing his throat until he speaks.

“I can play a few songs if you guys want.” You look up, glancing over his sheepish expression. “For your dance.”

Your husband is rubbing your shoulder soothingly, looking down at you with a quirked eyebrow. “How do you feel about a live band, honey?”

You take a deep breath, wiping away the remnants of your tears. The guy strums his guitar once, like it’s waiting for your answer too. You nod once, offering a small, watery smile. “That would be really nice. Thank you.”

The crowd clears a small area in the center of the canopy, the driest place that could be found. The man, who tells you his name is John, plays a few experimental chords as the din dies down. You step out into the clearing, hand in hand with Bradley. It’s a bit nerve-wracking, having all those eyes on you, but the gentle thrum of his pulse against yours quiets any sort of negative emotion. Right now, it’s just you, him, and the starting notes of “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran.

You don’t know if it would be your first choice for your first dance, but that doesn’t matter. Bradley is stepping in rhythm to you, like you practiced during your small rehearsal. What wasn’t practiced are the grins on both of your faces and the sweet voices singing out from the people around you. They grow louder, stronger, as the first verse pushes on. Bradley spins you around and your head falls back just enough to get the most amazing view of everyone.

Bob is moving to the beat, his soft, surprisingly musically inclined voice carrying perfectly. Natasha is grinning like the Cheshire Cat, her half-up hairdo somewhat wet. Your best friend is loudly belting the words, probably having had a bit too much to drink while she was helping you get ready. Family, friends, everything. This is what love feels like, you think. Love doesn’t come from planning, from meticulous thinking and wondering and worrying, but from the people around you and the joy they bring.

“I don’t deserve this,” Bradley whisper-sings, not loud enough for anyone but you to hear, “darling, you look perfect tonight.”

The song ends with a flourish, leaving you warm-cheeked and panting. You both bow to the crowd’s raucous cheers and Bradley captures you in one more kiss. “How are you feeling?” He asks, gaze drifting over your dazzling smile. The day can be good yet, he thinks.

“Perfect.” You breathe. “No matter what happens, if I’m with you, it’ll always be perfect.”

In one moment, your wedding turned from ruined in your eyes to a memory you’re sure to cherish for years to come. You just have John, your loved ones, and the man you married to thank.

Taglist: @seitmai

[ghoststyles]

Fairway to Heaven - Part 1

Hi!! I’m so excited to post my first-ever Harry fic! I’ve been on 1D Tumblr since the very beginning, logged off for 5 years and now I’m back 💀 So I’ve had a lot of ideas over the years that have just lived in my head. GOLFRRY + MUSTACHRRY are my weaknesses, so this is my twist on a golf/bev cart girl + agegap fic 🤩

I’d love to hear your thoughts. I have most of the story written, so I should be able to have a consistent posting schedule. Not sure the total # of parts quite yet. I’m also happy to write additional blurbs if y’all like Harry and Briar as much as I do 🥹🐥🦊 

Here is a mood board I put together. Feel free to picture Briar however you please. The mood board is just to set the vibez!

Without further ado...Enjoy!

~

Word count: 4.5K

Contains mature themes. Read at your own discretion. Agegaps, cursing.

Read Part 2 | Read Part 3 | Read Part 4

~

By the time she gets to her designated cart, she’s already fifteen minutes late; but her iced coffee is the perfect color, and her hair didn’t give her too much trouble this morning. A win is a win.

Briar Barlowe quickly dumps a bucket of ice in her cart’s side cooler as the bar back begins filling the bin with the usual suspects: Bud Light, Michelob Ultra, Fireball, Tito’s, Casamigos, Ginger ale, and, of course, grape juice. She makes sure to keep her lavender cups stocked and plenty of fun straws to make everything more fun. She even decorates her tip jars to say funny jokes.

Since starting at Wynnewood Country Club, Briar has gained a bit of notoriety among the players as the girl with a bright smile and a heavy pour. This job is exactly what she needs to fill the gap between graduating college and beginning her business degree in the fall. Good money, stress-free responsibilities, and time spent in the sunshine.

Her Uncle, Patrick Barlowe, is the golf pro at Wynnewood; a local legend who was just shy of making the PGA Tour himself. He spends his days teaching lessons, running the pro shop and serving on the Board of Directors for the club. If you’re in with Patrick, you’re in with everyone.

When he heard her worries of not finding a summer job after graduation, it was a no brainer to offer her a position as a beverage cart girl. They both gaze out over the course from a table under the gazebo on the top deck of the club’s restaurant.

“That job sounds a little sexist, Uncle Patrick,” Briar sneers. All she can picture is driving around in a little dress and a visor like Malibu Barbie, answering the male members’ every beck and call.

The club is gorgeous; first built in 1914, and the architecture reflects it. It has two golf courses, 4 tennis courts, a pool, and deluxe spa. The member fees skyrocket each year, upping the amenities and overall snootiness of the members.

“The money is good and the members are pretty harmless. From the way you’ve swindled me into throwing teddy bear tea parties, I think you’ll do just fine on the sales aspect.”

“Fine. When do I start?”

Patrick leans back in his seat, “I’ll call Dominic in the morning.”

With that, they finish their drinks and appetizers just as the sun sets.

Walking out to her car, she sees a black Range Rover pull under the carport. The boys at the valet stand are already bickering over who gets to drive this one.

Based on the surrounding town, the level of pretentiousness at the club never surprises Briar. The yearly member fee for the club can cover 2 years’ worth of her business school tuition alone. She shakes her head and jumps into her hand-me down Jeep to head back to her apartment, paying no mind to the man entering the front door of the club.

~

Her shift this morning started out in the frigid cold, forcing her to change outfits later in the day as the sun came out. She’s sporting her black athletic skort and a racerback tank top. She opts to leave her hair down and sport her black and white Nike trailblazers to keep the look casual.

With a few weeks’ worth of shifts under her belt, she’s learned the ways of the club and fallen into a good rhythm. On any given weekend day, she has to head to the clubhouse to restock twice before 12PM. Today is not one of those days.

As temperature warms up, the course begins to fill up. In the last hour of her shift, she’s left with only a few beers and a few shots worth of Tito’s. Her tip jar is a little emptier than usual, but the pun on her sign got a few chuckles. She sets up shop on the 17th hole and snaps a few photos of the sunset.

“I shot one under today. One under a tree, one under a bush, and one under the water.”

Briar jumps at the voice behind her. Is that an Irish accent? She leans to peer over the side of her cart. She sees a man, older than her, donning a light blue polo with dark blue pants and a white hat, reading the joke on her jar.

“Clever, isn’t it?” She smiles kindly at him.

“Hilarious. It’s like ya been watching my game today,” he laughs. He moves closer to where she’s standing.

“Can I get you anything? I’ll be honest, I’m mostly wiped out.”

He peers down at the contents of the cooler. “I’ll take that last Mich Ultra. Do you have any Casamigos left? My mate is a little picky.”

“No Casamigos,” she says with a slight frown. “I’ll try to keep my drinking to a minimum next time and save you some.”

He lets out a loud laugh and squeezes his eyes shut. “Alright, just this then. He’ll have to deal with it.”

“I can offer you some Peanut M&M’s for your troubles,” she says, pulling out her iPad to ring in the order. “Do you have an account with the club, or do you want to pay cash?”

“The account is under Niall Horan,” he says, putting a $20 bill in the jar. “Thanks for the M&M’s, darlin’.”

“I’m Briar. It was nice meeting you, Niall. Thank you!” She beams. He smiles and starts heading back to the path toward the clubhouse.

~

After cleaning her cart and counting her money, Briar finishes the day drinking a mojito at the bar, while Cam, her new friend at the club, is working her bar shift.

“How was it out there today, babe?” Cam asks.

“Slow at first, but it definitely picked up. I couldn’t even head back for a restock. Luckily, the members I got at the very end weren’t picky.”

“Oh! Did you see Niall?” she asks as she puts glassware in the dishwasher.

“Yeah,” Briar furrows her brows. “How did you know?”

“I used to serve him on the front course all the time. Now that I’m too old and wretched to work out on the course, he’ll visit me in here sometimes. He mentioned playing the back course with a friend today.”

Briar is always assigned to the back course. There are only minor differences in difficulty, but she finds the back course to be a little more calm and serious. They’re also a little more generous with their tips. She’s not sure if her assignment has something to do with her uncle’s knowledge of the club’s inner workings.

“He is really nice, and generous. I didn’t get to meet the friend, though. Did you?”

“Yes, he was a little more reserved. But Niall is a riot, so he makes anyone look calm. I didn’t catch his name.”

Briar hums and stirs her mojito around as she stifles a yawn. “Well, I’ve been here since 7:30 this morning, so I am ready to goooo,” she drags out her last word. She waves bye to Cam and begins the trek to the employee parking lot.

As she’s walking, she gazes up to the upper deck of the restaurant where she can just barely make out Niall standing by the railing. He’s talking animatedly and waving his beer bottle around.

A bit off to the right, peering down at her, is a tall, striking man with dark features wearing a white button down and a sport coat. The top two buttons are undone just enough to see his collarbones.

The club has a strict dress code for the restaurant. Briar often does a double take when she sees members out of their golf clothes. She wonders if he’s even allowed to show that much skin.

Shrugging it off, she continues toward her car, but not without looking back at the man. He’s still looking at her, curiously, taking a sip of his drink and turning away not long after she looks up.

She can’t help but get this strange feeling, almost as if the hairs on the back of her neck are standing straight up.

~

As the summer starts to heat up, so do her shifts at the course. By the end of them, Briar’s hair is sticking out sideways and her make up is smeared down her face. She bought a miniature fan that clips right to the visor of her cart to keep her cool throughout the day.

It’s just past 8:30 in the morning on Tuesday when she hears a familiar voice on the 8th hole. She squints and sees Niall, along with the dark haired man from the other night. There are a few guys she doesn’t recognize standing with them.

She maneuvers her cart through the winding path, closer to where the men are.

“There’s the beer angel!” Niall shouts. She smiles and shakes her head. He comes jogging over. “I hope you’re fully stocked this morning.”

“Yep, I am! I even have a few breakfast sandwiches, if you’re interested.”

His eyes light up as she pulls out a bacon, egg and cheese on an everything bagel from the warming drawer. Chef Lambo, the executive chef of the club, made them especially for Briar’s customers.

“Yesss. I’ll take one of those, a Mich Ultra, two Transfusions, and — H! What do you want?” He yells, partially turning to face his friend in the distance.

She faintly hears, “Casamigos!”

“And a Casamigos on the rocks, with a lime,” he finishes. It takes her only a few minutes to make the cocktails.

“Do you want these on your account?” Briar asks Niall.

He takes a huge bite of the bagel and mumbles, “No, you can put it all on my mate’s. Last name is Styles.”

Styles, or, “H” as Niall called him. The mystery man’s Last name is Styles. And, he’s a member here.

“Got it. Well, good luck today.”

“Thanks, we’ll need it. We’re trying to close a work deal with the two guys we’re playing with. Hey, don’t be afraid to swing by us multiple times. We can use all the schmoozing we can get,” he smiles.

“I think I can do that. Let me know if you need help, I’m told I’m very persuasive,” she smiles as she takes the emergency brake off of her cart. He throws another $20 in her jar and then waves, nearly dropping all of the items in his hands.

Niall returns to his group, handing out their drinks. Briar continues to watch before pulling away. H steps out from behind Niall, slightly lifting his cup — his lavender cup — towards her, as a thank you. His facial expression is stoic, watching her carefully.

She smiles to herself and drives off. The rest of the shift goes by in a blur. She swings by Niall and H’s group a few times. Each time, Niall greets her to grab more drinks and snacks.

Is that on purpose? If the drinks are on H’s account, why isn’t he coming over? She’d like to get a closer look at him. She chews on the inside of her lip and continues on with her closing duties. She loves the morning shift; in early, out early.

~

After parking her cart in the garage, she can see her uncle in the pro shop, glasses on the tip of his nose, peering down at something. She lightly knocks on the door and pushes it open.

“Hey, Briar bear,” he says, looking up at her. “How was your day?”

Briar sighs at her childhood nickname, plopping down on the couch by the practice putting green. Members can test out clubs before purchasing them in the pro shop, making it an optimal spot to hang out and mess around with all of the clubs.

“It was good, I just have to get used to waking up this early again. And I already know you’re going to say, ‘welcome to the real world, kid’, so just stop there,” she says sassily.

Patrick chuckles and focuses back on with his paperwork. They’re quiet for a few moments.

“What’re working on, anyway?” she asks, craning her neck to see what he’s doing.

“Just some budget sheets, and making a list of members who haven’t had a lesson from their amazing in-house golf pro,” he says, punching numbers into his phone calculator.

“They get a free lesson from you?”

“Yes, when they join. But now, to keep up member retention, we’re going to offer sessions to members who have been here for 5 years or more,” he scratches his temple. “Most of ‘em don’t need it, but I feel they always leave with a new drill to practice and some sage advice from yours truly.”

“That’s cool,” she replies absently.

“Wanna help?” Patrick asks her. She nods silently and takes a seat beside him. She sees a list of last names, first initial and  an “X” next to their name if they’ve taken a lesson.

She notices an X next to “Horan, N.” but not “Styles, H”. Interesting.

Briar continues to audit the two lists, until she hears her uncle clear his throat.

“Hey, are you going to hang here for a bit? I need to run back into the main clubhouse for a few minutes.”

Patrick runs the pro shop solo during the day, until a high school or college kid can come in in the afternoon.

“Yeah, I’ll hang here. What do I do if someone needs something?”

“Then you can entertain them with your dazzling personality until I get back,” he teases, sticking his tongue out. “Alright, I’ll be back.”

“‘kay,” she says, walking back to her original spot on the sofa, laying her head back on the edge.

Her eyes are shut, only for a minute, until a brilliant idea pops in her head. She rises off the sofa and saunters over to the computer her uncle was just working on.

The employee portal is logged in under Patrick’s account. Briar doesn’t know much about it, aside from using it to clock in and clock out. It’s still on the member screen, an area she’s 100% sure she doesn’t have access to.

She peruses the site until she finds a “Member Look-Up” tab. Briar’s intrusive thoughts win.

She slowly punches in S-T-Y-L-E-S and waits for the results to populate. 2 results found.

She clicks on the first profile. An account pulls up for a Paul Styles, and a photo of a white-haired man pops up.

Well, that’s certainly not him, Briar thinks to herself. She exits out and clicks on the next account. No profile photo opens, but the name is at the top. She bites her thumbnail in anticipation of what she’ll see.

Harry Styles. H. Niall’s mysterious friend. The tequila lover.

She starts to scroll down the page. The profile is more bare than the other man’s, but she can see the basic things about him. He’s 41, joined the club 8 years ago. He lives in another pretentious town only a few miles away.

Then, she sees a “Member Activity” tab. Out of curiosity, she clicks on it. Her eyes widen, seeing every transaction he’s ever made on his account. His “dues” each year. Holy shit.

His purchases seem pretty standard for members of Wynnewood. Mostly rounds of Casamigos on the rocks (shocking) and dinners ranging from $100-$400, with a few bills over $1,000.

He joined 8 years ago, but his transactions have only begun to pick up in the last month or so. Before, his visits were sporadic at best.

Briar can’t even fathom having that sort of money to throw away. She started working at age 14 and never stopped. The only reason she gets a taste of country club life is because of her uncle.

She closes out the portal, not wanting to risk Patrick walking in while she’s snooping around. She returns to her spot on the sofa and begins playing 1010! on her phone.

She exhales and tosses her phone to the side. As she sits up, Patrick reenters the pro shop.

“Thanks, Bri. Heading home soon?”

“Yeah, I gotta get back home for Gus,” she smiles, thinking about her dog. Her baby.

“Alright, I’ll catch you later. Say hello to my buddy for me. And give him a butt scratch — Tell him it’s from Uncle Patty.”

“Will do. See ya.”

~

When she’s showered and comfy at home, with Gus, her Bernese Mountain Dog, snuggled at her side, she finally feels relaxed. 

She’s worked nearly every day since she started. But, those are the sacrifices of a summer job.

She turns on Selling Sunset on Netflix to drown out the silence of her apartment. Already bored of this season, she pulls out her phone.

One last round of stalking, then she’ll let it go. She opens Instagram and begins typing in Harry’s name in the search bar. Nothing. Hm.

She tries Niall, immediately getting a hit. She clicks on his account to find it public, full of funny and happy photos. He’s clearly from Ireland, but has lived in the United States for some time. She wonders if he went to school here, or if he just got a job here.

She scrolls down to a group photo — on the golf course, of course — of Niall, Harry, and a few other guys. They look a lot younger here. She can see the photo is from 7 years ago. Harry’s stoic face is a stark contrast to Niall’s infectious smile. She clicks on the photo to see if Harry’s profile is tagged. Nothing.

Defeated, she moves onto LinkedIn. She tries Harry’s name again. Within 10 seconds of the search engine results popping up on the screen, her eyes land on exactly what she’s looking for. He has a profile. Her heart starts beating a little faster.

Really, Briar? All this for a guy you’ve barely caught a glimpse of? She clicks on the profile and sees the most gorgeous man at the top. He looked good from afar, but this is totally different.

Sticking out to her is his chiseled jaw, pouty lips, and beautiful (green?) eyes. His hair is longer in this photo than what she’s seen him with the past 2 times at the club, but she figures this page is old.

She scrolls down to the employment history. He works for a hedge fund. No wonder he has that kind of cash laying around. He’s been at the same company for a number of years, and received his bachelor’s degree from Georgetown and his MBA from the University of Pennsylvania. Smart dude. 

She notes his MBA graduation year is 2006. She laughs, knowing she was probably still playing on a playground that year. 

She exits out of the page, proud of her findings. She decides to text Cam about Niall’s friend.

B: Hey! So I totally stalked Niall online. His friend’s name is Harry! 😆

C: So funny, how’d u do it? 😂

B: Instagram for Niall, and earlier, I used Wynnewood’s portal to look up Harry. I just went on his LinkedIn, too. Now, I know all about his work and schooling, lol.

C: Your account is private, right? 😳

C: It notifies people if you’ve looked at their profile unless you’re private…

B: What?! I didn’t know that…WTF do I do?

Briar’s stomach drops. He’s probably already gotten the notification by now. She’s mortified. She logs back on to LinkedIn and deactivates her account. Reddit says those are her best chances of counteracting the notification.

She decides to go to bed, but ends up tossing and turning until 3 AM, knowing her alarm is set for 6:30. She stares at the ceiling, pleading for Harry not to show up at the club tomorrow.

~

The morning comes around, and after mustering enough courage to get up and make herself presentable, she rolls into work, ready to jump on her cart and be lazy. The universe (or Uncle Patrick, probably!) has a different plan.

Since it’s a holiday weekend, Briar is working inside for a change. She feels a little out of her element. She’s worked in restaurants in the past, but it’s always a little stressful when you have know idea where anything is, or how to use the register.

Taking a moment to survey the large banquet room, she doesn’t see Niall or Harry. She begins to relax. Until, 30 minutes later, she sees both of them enter and begin talking to the hostess.

Please don’t go to my section, she thinks. She watches the girl gathers 4 menus and turns to lead the men further into the room. Briar’s worry grows more with each step the hostess takes toward her section. Fuck.

She seats them down at a 4 person table right in the middle of Briar’s section, assuming the two men from yesterday will be joining them.

She takes a few deep breaths before grabbing a water jug and two stemmed water glasses. She casually approaches the table, lightly placing the water glasses down and filling them.

Niall looks up briefly with a smile before exclaiming, “There she is! I requested you to be our server after I saw you at the coffee machine over there.”

Briar smiles before turning her attention to Harry, who hasn’t glanced up from his menu. She looks back at Niall.

“Awesome! This is going to be great,” she lies through her teeth.

While this exchange is happening, she can feel Cam’s eyes burning through the back of her head. Cam is the service bartender of the day, so she has time to people watch and laugh at Briar’s bad luck.

“Are we waiting for any more guests to join us?” Briar asks.

Niall clears his throat and says, “Yes, those two blokes from yesterday. Harry here is going to close the deal with them today.”

Harry glances up at her with a shy smile. She reciprocates, unsure if he’s aware of her cyberstalking from last night.

“Wow, well, I’ll make sure my service is extra good, then. Can I throw in some drinks while you wait?”

“I’ll have an Old Fashioned. Harry?” Niall turns to his friend.

“Casamigos on the rocks for me, please. With a lime. Thank you.”

“You got it,” she says with a tight-lipped smile. Of course that’s the very first thing he ever says to her. And he’s BRITISH?

Cam laughs as the ticket prints at the bar.

“Oh, shut up,” Briar grumbles.

~

The other men finally arrive, and the meal goes by at a snail’s pace. When the group is finally ready to order, Briar is already mentally checked out. Briar goes to take Harry’s order.

“What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have the chicken, please,” he says simply.

“And how would you like that cooked?” Briar asks, furiously scribbling on her note pad.

Harry’s face contorts to a perplexed look, almost as if he was about to laugh.

“Um…cooked…all the way through?” He stifles a chuckle.

Niall bursts out laughing, cluing Briar in. She realizes the others ordered porterhouse steaks, so, out of habit, she asked how they’d like them prepared.

Her eyes go wide, “Right, well, I’ll go put these in. Thanks!” She shuffles away at lightning speed.

Harry stares at her from across the room, smirking when they make eye contact. She wants to bury her head in the sand trap on the golf course.

When the meal is done, the men shake hands, and Niall and Harry look relieved. They ask for another round of drinks for the two of them and the check. Niall heads toward the restroom while Harry pays. She tries to bolt as soon as the check is dropped, but she hears Harry clear his throat.

She turns to face him.

“We’re about to go play a quick round of 9-holes to celebrate. Are you our beer angel today, or are you stuck in here?” Harry says, as he opens his wallet.

Briar feels her heart begin to race. She’s sure her face is beet red. The word angel rolls off his tongue so easily.

“Um, no, I’m um, stuck in here for the rest of the day. I’ll be back on Sunday, though,” she says quietly.

“Shame, I was starting to think you were bringing me all of my luck. I’ve been crushing these guys in our last few rounds,” he smiles, swirling the remnants of his drink around.

She bites the inside of her lip, unsure if she should still be holding eye contact. He hands her the checkbook, full of cash. She smiles, unable to speak.

“Oh, and Briar— I’m an open book. If you wanted to know more about me, you could’ve just asked,” he says with a sickeningly sweet smile.

That’s the moment Niall returns to the table, and presumably the only reason she doesn’t drop to the floor in fetal position.

“Thanks, Briar. Lunch was great. We’ll see you next time,” Niall says sweetly.

“Thanks!” she squeaks, scurrying to the back, where she nearly mows down Cam.

“Woah! What’re you doing?” Cam squeals.

“He KNOWS!” Briar wails.

“Who? Who knows — OH!” Cam shrieks. “What did he say to you?”

“He said, ‘Briar, I’m an open book. If you wanted to know more about me, you could’ve just asked.’”

Cam’s mouth drops open. “Did he say it with his sexy accent and sultry voice?”

“Shut up!”

“Fine. Well, what did he tip you?” she asks, reaching for the book in Briar’s hand.

She opens it, finding enough cash to cover the $450 tab, and an extra $300 as a tip.

“Damn! Who has that much cash at one time?” Cam laughs.

Briar flips to the back of the book, only to find a note on a small piece of paper:

I’m an Aquarius, in case you were wondering. : - )

She stares blankly at the note. When did he have time to do this? Was he going to slip this note to her regardless? A million thoughts run through her head, until she hears Cam.

“What a creepy-ass old person smiley face,” she says, shaking her head.

Briar thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.

~

Finally, her shift ends and she can escape the club, just for a day. As she heads towards the women’s locker room, she’s rummaging through her bag, attempting to fish out her street clothes so she can change as quickly as possible.

As she stalks closer to the locker room, she collides head-first into a firm, wet object. She feels strong hands grasp her hips to steady her.

“What the fuck?” she says, moving the hair out of her eyes, only to be met with a strong tattooed torso, partially covered by towel tied loosely around the person’s waist.

Her next words die in her throat as she looks up.

Harry.

Harry, who just left the steam room.

He smirks down at her, gently letting go of her waist. Suddenly, she feels hot, as if she were just in there with him. Briar’s fight or flight kicked-in, causing her to spin on her heels and flee in the opposite direction. 

He senses she’d run, so he gently grabs her wrist, locking her in place. She peers up at him like a deer in headlights. His other hand is firmly planted on his hip to hold up his towel, in fear of giving the whole club a show.

He tilts her chin up so she’s making direct eye contact. Her stomach drops, sending a wave of nausea through her body. She studies his face; long eye lashes, slight stubble and two dimples that form as he smirks down at her softly.

“I told you, I’m not shy.”

He releases her chin and saunters back to the mens’ locker room.

[fanficonly]

Wenclair x Reader - What Are You? -Part 1

Wenclair x Reader- New at NeverMore and unsettled by your new stalkers? ... Or more excited. Why do these girls interest you so much? Or why are they so interested in you?

This is my first attempt at Wenclair X reader fic but I'm really excited to write it. I have so many ideas and different directions this story can take so hope y'all enjoy reading 😋

You walked the halls of Nevermore, anxiety filling your body, your mind filled with endless extremities of how badly this transfer could go and your heart beating so loudly you were sure everyone around you could hear it. You scanned the array of Fangs, Furs , Scales and Stoners that covered the Quad as you made your way to the principal's office to be welcomed as an outcast. Although you weren't sure that was the correct term for what you were.

Your eyes darted across the courtyard and you halted your steps when you heard a loud scream pierce your ears. You immediately went into defense mode only to focus your vision on a cute curly haired blonde whose scream turned into a giggle as a Gorgon boy threw her over his shoulder.

'Huh cute couple' you thought watching most of the group around them smile and laugh at the scene in front of them.

Being the huge snoop that you are, you focus your hearing on her laugh which was weirdly melodious to your ears. Only to hear...

"I suggest you remove my beloved from your clammy hands before I make certain you no longer have hands to perform such actions" the voice was harsh, very monotone yet incredibly alluring... Who is she?

"Wednesday, relax babe Ajax was just messing around" you watched as the blonde hopped down from the boys shoulder who seemed genuinely terrified by the 5ft nothing girl in front of him and held his hands up in surrender. She glided up to the girl and intertwined their hands together...

'Oh' you think to yourself "Now that's a cute couple" changing your tune. You hadn't realised how long you'd been staring, watching the group interact was fascinating but it wasn't long before you watched the beautiful blonde's nose twitch as she jerked her head in your direction and tilted her head quizzically at you.

The girl you now knew as Wednesday followed her girlfriend's eyeline stepping closer to her and turning her head to also make direct eye contact with you.

Your breath caught in your throat momentarily and you watch as the blonde flashes her fangs, presumably opening her mouth to speak but you don't wait up to hear what she has to say. Instead you whip your head towards the ground and scurry away not in the mood for confrontation on your first day

"Who was that?" Enid scrunched her brow in confusion, watching the back of you as you disappeared into the distance.

"I don't know but she seemed rather intrigued by us" Wednesday observed, also not taking her eyes off the girl who had scurried away.

"I know everyone at Nevermore why don't I know who that is?" Enid suddenly seemed a little panicked at her own uninformed self. Her eyes starring towards Wednesday who let a small, almost invisible to the naked eye, smile cross her lips. She couldn't believe she had fallen for a werewolf whose biggest issue was whether or not she kept up to date with all Nevermore gossip for her extremely girly blog.

"Highly suspicious." She recognised "Shall I get my investigation board out?" Wednesday suggested in an attempt to calm her hyperactive Lover down.

"Not yet" the werewolf smiled, pecking Wednesdays cheek and smiling. She did enjoy watching her girlfriend turn into Sherlock Holmes but she didn't seem it necessary just yet.

"Mon Chiot you must refrain from such ludicrous displays of public affection" she scolded Enid weakly, unable to admit the affect the wolf had on her.

"Chill out Wens noone is watching and besides I like that I'm the only one that can turn those beautifully pale cheeks even the slightest bit pink" she bragged playfully, knowing full well she could irritate the Seer without consequence.

Wednesday sighed "You're impossible" she threw her head to the sky and feined annoyance.

"And you're beautiful" she grabbed Wensdays hand to lead her back to the dynamic pack of friends but they were abruptly stopped by the assistant principal who stood in front of them.

"Miss Sinclair a word?" but as Enid moved to follow their teacher she felt a light tug from the hand that was grasping hers.

"What do you require of her?" Wednesday asked in a not so polite tone and the teacher just rolled her eyes very used to the Wednesday Addams and her protective nature. You couldn't blame her. The amount of times Enid had been in trouble and Wednesday knew for a fact she was responsible, was too many to count. It was alarming. So if she had to take the fall for something... she was ready to dive into the waiting arms of detention to protect her girlfriend's spotless record. At least it was spotless before Wednesday decided to hypothetically drag mud across the clean sheet.

"We have a new student at Nevermore" she rolls her eyes "It is a very abrupt transfer so the welcoming committee... i.e you...have not been informed" she explained and watched as the 2 girls gave each other a knowing look. The eavesdropper. "You're wanted in the principal's office to meet her" she smiled.

"Cool!" Enid beamed widely. She loved new students. New students meant more gossip and more gossip meant more things happening! Enid loved things happening!

"What is she?" Wednesday interjected concerned for her girlfriend's welfare around a new and undetermined creature.

"I am not at liberty to divulge that information Miss Addams" she spoke cryptically "Now chop chop she'll be waiting for you" she turned to Enid then flicked her eyes towards Wednesday "Bring Wednesday if you must but please refrain from terrifying her on her first day" the teacher directed her last sentence at the more sinister of the two then left without another word.

"Well this is gonna be so much fun!" Enid practically yelled before waving to her friends and leaving, Wednesday following close behind like a magnet being drawn to metal.

"Or harrowing" she mumbled as she caught up to Enid.

...

When you reach the two very large and intimidating doors, you knock with confidence and are greeted a few seconds later by a tall, tantalising women.

"Ahh you must me Y/N welcome to Nevermore" she declared before ushering you inside.

"I trust you found your way around ok I apologise for not greeting you at the gates I have only just been informed of your arrival a few minutes ago" she explained but it wasn't necessary. You knew why you were here and you didn't expect much of a welcome anyway.

"Yeah it's cool" you spoke rather casually and unbothered taking a seat as the other women did. She blinked at your casual tone but disregarded it to get down to business.

10 minutes went by which consisted of the Rules of Nevermore, the appearance of your schedule which you didn't expect to have so soon and an explanation of the requirements to attend the school. You listened as well as you could but eventually your thoughts drifted to two girls you had "Met" earlier and your mind swirled with images of them.

As if you had conjured it yourself a knock was heard and when you craned your neck to see who it was ... There they stood.

"Enid" the principal smiled warmly " and ... Wednesday" you watched as she forced a smile but seemed utterly dismayed by the other girl. So that's her name ... Enid your mind whispered to you.

You weren't at all surprised. The blonde whose smile was infectious was dressed in her uniform but it was bedazzled with countless accessories of blinding colour, her bubbly personality practically spilling out into the room. Whereas the darker haired girl looked far more distraught and tortured sporting an all black uniform and a deadpan expression.

"Howdy Newbie!" Enid skipped towards you a wide smile as you stumbled off your seat turning around to reciprocate her greeting.

"Umm Hey" you say quietly and immediately stepped back slightly as the girl threw her arms up to attack you, you presume with a hug. You were never one for physical contact around strangers especially with the "gift" you have being unpredictable so although you rejected her hug you hoped you hadn't offended her.

Enid tilted her head to the side with a slight frown. Which of course made you feel bad but it was safer this way. You let out a sigh of relief when she looked back at Wednesday who smirked at her then back at you while letting out a light chuckle.

"Not a hugger?" She questioned lowering her hands, but she seemed oddly happy about this rather than dismayed.

"Haha not really" you shrugged, with one hand grasping at your forearm for comfort.

"Got it!" Enid spoke, respecting your boundaries which you were incredibly grateful for. "You and Wednesday will get along great" she laughed a little again and winked, causing you to blink at how affected you were by this. She then reached her hand out to Wednesday who hadn't stopped examining you with her piercing stare since the moment you began speaking to Enid. You felt you should be more unsettled by her eyes on you but you can understand her curiosity as you yourself were very interested in knowing more about the two girls.

Wednesday took Enid's hand easily and stepped in to join the conversation

"Hello" she said rather formally and you couldn't help the smile that pulled at your lips. These two were literally polar opposites. One sunshine, one Raincloud. One dark, one light. One a happy social hugger, one a dreary unsociable avoider. How in heaven's name are they a couple? Opposites really do attract it seems and it's proven very true in this case, as you can see.

"Hi" you nod at her and she matches the action with a slight tilt of her head towards you. You then watch as she looks at Enid who does the same. It's as if they are communicating through telepathy and all you can see is the slight change in facial expressions at whatever they were both thinking. Not a lot to go on but you choose not to pry, it didn't seem to be malicious or anything so you could let it go.

Thankfully the principal interrupted "Right well I think I've covered most of what Y/N needs to know so Miss Sinclair if you could just show her around and give her the ol' Nevermore welcome that would be much appreciated." She spoke looking up from her notes and back down to make sure she had covered everything.

"Roger that!" Enid saluted the teacher dramatically before skipping away and opening the large doors to the office.

You on the other hand watched as Wednesday examined you further, her eyes trailing up and down your body while you were standing only a meter apart. You felt rather trapped between her and the chair you were once sat on, unable to follow the bubbly blonde who had left the 2 of you.

You again we're thankful when Enid interjected "Wens stop it!" She looked back scolding her girlfriend "You'll make her feel uncomfortable" she trudged back to the both of you shaking her head.

"Sorry about Wednesday she's just ..." Enid struggled to find the right word "Curious about new unidentified people" she explained.

"Cucciola, What have I told you about apologising for me? It's not necessary" Wednesday speaks bluntly but with a hint of affection towards the werewolf girl. You notice the pet name and smile 'Shes Italian... or at least she speaks it' you find this incredibly attractive and nervously look away.

"Well someone has to" she rolled her eyes and you admire her features as she does this. Unfortunately for you Wednesday notices.

"Va bene capisco" you raise your hand hoping that you can distract the sinister looking girl from the fact that you just checked out her girlfriend.

You watch as Enid's eyes light up at your voice. And Wednesday narrows her eyes at you. "You speak Italian?" She questions and you're not sure whether she's impressed or annoyed at this point, Wednesday is very difficult to read.

"Sì mia madre mi ha insegnato quando ero bambino" you say proudly, always being extremely pleased with your learned skills.

"degno di nota" you hear Wednesday mutter as she looks away from you which for some reason causes you to feel all giddy at the sly compliment.

"Come New Outcast" Wednesday flicks her head towards the door and grabs Enid's hand before walking out of the room "I apologise for staring" she says while still facing away from you.

Enid smiles proudly at Wednesday and then gives you a reassuring look as you hastily follow behind the two.

This is gonna be an interesting day you think to yourself.

[tokkiwrites]

FUCK YOU, DON'T LEAVE ME HERE.

tokkis note : this is a short story for @iamasaddie 's mood board game/ ✏️ challenge. i was so excited to start writing for this omg. it's also my first ever angsty fic,can u believe it!?? again, thank you, @iamasaddie, for the beautiful mood board and happy reading <3

c.w : dieter bravo x reader, gn reader, angsty ?? toxic rs mentioned, dieter bravo is your superstar fuck buddy but you wish he was more than that & he wishes he wasn't.

"shit, you know this isn't ㅡ we aren't meant to be." he covers his face with both pals, heaving out a long sigh of frustration. "I'm not cut for this shit, yeah?"

"so you think you have the right to tell me when and how to forget about you?" you scream back at him, tears already spilling. you didn't know why you were crying at this point: happiness because after months you are finally near him, so near his cologne is clogging up your sensesㅡ or out of frustration because you knew this would happen. yet you always let him in.

"I really don't wanna hurt youㅡ fuck, baby, look at me." dieter steps in closer, reaching out to wipe the tears that stain your cheeks. "you're a hypocrite. you can't fuck your way into my heart andㅡ and then tell me you don't wanna hurt me!" slapping his palm away, you turn your back, sucking in a deep breath. you hated to let him see you cry, let him see what effect this has on you.

"I thought you knew what this all was...from the beginning." he chuckles as if the situation didn't make you feel stupid enough. of course you knewㅡ deep down you hoped he'd see you as his and not a temporary somebody. people in his life come and go, the risks of a movie star you could say, but fuck wouldn't you want to be someone that stays forever.

"I knew, butㅡ"

"but what?" he interrupts. "thought you could 'change' me?" he shakes his head in disbelief, grabbing you by the shoulder and turning your body around to face him again.

"look me in the eyes and tell meㅡ tell me you don't love me." you manage to speak, through wispered sobs. "fuck you for trying to make me the bad guy in all of this!" dieter gasps, laughing as he point his index directly to your chest. "Aren't you?" mustering your voice again, you ask rhetorically.

"What is up with you and needing to point the finger at someone, huh? has it ever occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, it's both our fucking faults?" he bawls his fist in holds it up to his chest. "both of us. me, because i gave you more than I needed to give and you because you ate every crumble of it." Dieter groans, frowning as you let his words wash over you. "Aren't we both fucked up?"

and you sit in silence, unable to unravel the knots tied in your throat. no tears are willing to fall, nothing is left to be spilled ㅡ only the thoughts that maybe he is right.

Dieter's frustration simmers as he watches your internal struggle unfold. The weight of his words lingers between you, and for a moment, neither of you knows how to navigate the intricacies of your shared pain.

"I never wanted to hurt you," Dieter murmurs again, his tone softer now, a hint of remorse breaking through the intensity. "But, fuckㅡ we're stuck in this cycle, tearing each other apart. Is this really what we both deserve?"

"I don't want to hate you," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "then don't." he replies, gaze fixed onto the ground. your eyes search his, seeking answers in the depths of his turmoil. "I can't keep doing this." you admit. "I can't let you go and come back to me wheneverㅡ i can't stand to see you on that screen with anybody else, and i know-" you swallow "i know you can't control that, but please...please don't tell me this was nothingㅡ I was nothing.."

"You were never nothing," he says, his voice holding a sincerity that cuts through the tension. "I don't want you to be nothing," Dieter finally admits, his gaze softening. "and you know it."

[laracrofted]

we'd run inside out from the cold

synopsis: jake takes his girlfriend home for christmas. (or i realized jake seresin will never chop down a christmas tree for me and had to soothe the ache somehow.)

pairings: jake seresin x fem!reader (no y/n, a few uses of a call sign)

warnings: all fluff all the time, swearing, just kissing, smut is implied only but jake has some impure thoughts so... 18+, minors dni

note: inspired by this mood board i made. it was supposed to be short and sweet and instead, it's 2000+ words and suggestive. happy december, babes!

tagging a few people who might like this one @theharddeck @double-j @bioodforbiood @t-nd-rfoot @bradshawsbitch (who wrote a winter-themed bob fic that was so cute and cozy, it sent me into a downward spiral. read it here!)

You are nowhere to be found when Jake patters down the stairs, freshly changed from his stiff denim jeans into flannel pajama pants that’d probably fit him back in his Academy days. They’re a little too short now, exposing a stretch of bare ankle between the hem and his wool socks. 

He shivers in the cold stillness of the living room, tugging the sleeves of his sweater down to cover his palms. 

You are the last ones up, and Jake hasn’t unplugged the tree yet, expecting you to stay up a little longer.

You want to put the Christmas cookies in the oven and watch Sandra Bullock and Bill Pullman find love in While You Were Sleeping.

He just wants to wrap his arms around his girl and drift in and out of sleep with you pulled tight against his chest, warm and cozy under a pile of blankets. 

He wants to sneak some raw cookie dough, and when you inevitably scold him for it, lecturing him about salmonella and the like, Jake wants to shut you up with a kiss that tastes like gingerbread and molasses; wants to feel you melt into him like the sugary frosting on his tongue. 

In the soft multicolor glow of the Christmas lights, Jake looks for the familiar shape of you buried under the handmade quilt that Grandma Seresin gave him for Christmas last year. Never mind that Jake has enough quilts to carpet his apartment back in San Diego. Ma has to hold onto the others, keeping them folded upstairs in the closet of his childhood bedroom. 

Still, Jake accepts each new one with a dashing smile and a kiss on her wrinkled cheek.

No one is hidden beneath the quilt.

He folds it over his arm, still warm with her body heat, and Christmas lights gleam off the black iPhone screen on the coffee table. He picks that up too, smiling at the case, clear and covered in little illustrated butterflies that match your call sign. Sets it back down and looks around the room. 

Not in here, Jake thinks. 

He was gone for all of the five minutes and definitely would’ve heard you come upstairs. Ma still hadn’t gotten anyone in to fix the creak in the third and second-to-last stairs. Sounds like a damn cat in heat.

Or… Jake remembers with a slight smirk, like the strangled sound Rooster had let out when Phoenix accidentally nailed him the balls during a round of football one time. They’d never known Rooster’s crows could reach that pitch. 

That reminds him… 

Jake owes Rooster a Christmas Eve text.

He’d gone to the mountains with Maverick for Christmas. Penny Benjamin rented some picturesque cabin in the woods, in an area that was known for good skiing and snowboarding, so Rooster was probably having the time of his life. Still, Jake wants to check in, just in case joining the Mitchell and Benjamin family unit hadn’t gone well. 

He punches out the text. 

A casual, non-invasive How’s it going with Mav? that Rooster immediately responds to with a string of emojis that’d be unintelligible to anyone who doesn’t spend 40+ hours a week with the dude. He seems to be having a good enough time, so Jake slides his phone back into his pocket, looks down at the abandoned phone again.

“Now,” Jake says out loud. “Where did you sneak off to, sweetheart?” 

His voice is almost too loud in the near silent room, and Jake cocks his head to listen more closely for any signs of his girl. He is met with the low buzz of the baseboard heaters and the occasional whoosh of the wind blowing snow against the windows. 

He shivers again, and Jake has an epiphany. 

It shouldn’t be so cold in here with the heat on, which means…

He pokes his head into the kitchen and sees the back door is open. Not enough to let the weather in, just a precaution someone might take to keep themselves from getting locked out. Someone smart, like Jake’s girlfriend. 

He grabs his snow boots, pulls them on over his socks, and quilt in hand, slips out into the bitter night. 

Snow crunches softly under his boots, and Jake will need to sweep the snow from the deck in the morning. He already did it this afternoon, after getting back from the Christmas Tree Farm, but Texas is facing a historically cold winter with record snowfall this week.

Snow paints a pretty picture for a white Christmas, making everything glitter and gleam in the pale moonlight. 

Nothing could ever paint as pretty a picture as the one Jake finds outside.

You’re bundled in one of his old coats, a nice one with a fur-lined hood, and a familiar knit hat. Ma made that one, and after you forgot your beanie in your suitcase, Jake made a big show of setting it on your head during their search for the perfect Christmas tree this afternoon.

He purposely pulled it down too far, covering your eyes too. You scrunched your nose at him and acted all annoyed, but Jake could see the pleased glow to your cheeks, already flushed from the cold. 

It made him feel the same way that Jake feels right now, like your visible happiness is a hot lance through his heart. You’re seated on the brick stairs that lead down to the yard and the stables, but Jake holds back and watches his girl for a moment, unobserved. 

How in the world did Jake Seresin become to the luckiest man alive?

He was always the insensitive one, always the asshole, always second-best even after giving every part of himself over to the pursuit of ice-cold perfection. Him. 

He presses his hand to the soft material of his woolen sweater, right over that aching spot in his chest, and lets out a deep breath. 

“There you are,” Jake says, calling your name. You half-turn.

Snowflakes catch in the hair that escapes from the hat, shining in the dim light from the kitchen windows, and Jake brushes it from the jacket, dropping onto the step beside his girl. He can feel the wet snow seeping into the flannel pants, making them damp. He doesn’t mind much.

You smile at him, bright as the Christmas lights on the tree inside, glittering as the fresh snow on the ground in the blue beams of moonlight. Lean your head on his shoulder.

He wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you against the line of his side, wanting you as close as possible. Not even an inch of space between you. 

He always wants you there. 

Ma was the first of his family members to notice, though Jake’s sisters didn’t take long to catch on too. Damn Seresin women…

“She’s not gonna disappear while I’ve got you washing the salad forks,” Ma joked, smacking him lightly on the shoulder with a plaid hand towel. 

He probably deserved that, missing her prompt to pass the pile of utensils yet again because Jake was too busy looking over his shoulder, tracking you from across the room. 

He whipped his head back around, face warm. 

Ma didn’t miss that either.

“Look at that…” Ma commented, taking the bundle of spoons that Jake handed her and dunking them into the soapy water. “You two gonna okay sleeping in separate rooms? Wouldn’t want you to come down with separation anxiety.” 

“Give it a rest, Ma,” Jake grumbled, embarrassed. He blamed the heat of the still-warm over for the blush that crept down his neck. He waited until Ma was preoccupied looking down at the sink before Jake cast another quick look over his shoulder. 

You might not be sharing a room, but Jake sneaks across the hall into the guest bedroom every night to slip beneath the comforter for a few blissful hours, one arm underneath the pillow, the other wrapped around your torso, cradling you against him. Legs so intertwined that when Jake has to untangle himself to lean over and kiss you in the early morning, slithering his hand across your collarbone, coaxing your head back with a gentle press of his fingers. 

It is hard to leave you there, softly moaning into his mouth in the pre-dawn blue, but Jake has to be back in his own bed before Ma gets up to feed the horses. He’s starting to get dark circles under his eyes from doing it every morning. It’s well worth it. 

“Didn’t meant to disappear, babe. Just wanted to see the snow at night.” Your words are barely louder than a whisper, brushing against the side of Jake’s neck, as if you’re matching the muffled tone of the snowfall. “So quiet out here.” 

“It is,” Jake agrees. “Far cry from San Diego.” 

He notices your knee bouncing and unfolds the quilt over your legs, cocooning you both in a pocket of warmth. It’s cold enough out to fog the windows and cover them in a thin sheet of frost, and Jake can see the puff of your breaths. 

You are warm against his side. 

Soft again, quiet as snow. “Thank you for bringing me here.” 

He swings his gaze to look at you, pitching your chin up with two fingers and looking into your sparkling eyes. It hits him again. Adoration pierces through him, right through the heart, and Jake strokes the side of your face with the pad of his thumb.

You sneak your hand from under the blanket, reaching up to cup the side of his face in turn. Run your palm across the prickled scruff that’s grown on his jaw over the past few days. 

He leans into your hold, closing his eyes for a hushed moment.  

And then Jake pulls back, catching your hand in his and kissing the center of your palm, then interlacing your fingers. 

“Thanks for comin’ with me, Butterfly,” Jake murmurs, leaning down to press an affectionate kiss to your cheek. You happen to turn at the same time, eyes bright, and Jake catches your mouth. 

Your lips are cold, but Jake makes quick work of warming them, coaxing them open, licking into your mouth. You taste honey sweet. Like the white wine from dinner and peaches from the after-dinner cobbler, and Jake drinks in every bit of sweetness, every soft sigh that spills from your lips. 

Hands itching to pull apart the buttons of the coat, to tug the loose sweater away from your neck and press open-mouthed kisses all the way down the line of your throat… 

Jake breaks the kiss. 

Leans his forehead against yours to catch his breath, calming the heart that’s threatening to beat out of his chest, racing like a wild horse.  

“You okay there?” 

He can hear the amusement in your voice. 

A smile tugs at his lips. “Just… Give me a second while I hold back the urge to lay you down in the snow and…” He lets the sentence die. All in the name of holding back the urge. 

You laugh. It echoes like the jingle of bells around the snowy woods.

Wind whooshes through the frosted trees, carrying your laugh back to you, and Jake notices more and more snowflakes gathering on their sleeves, frosting your delicate eyelashes. It’s starting to come down harder. 

“We should head inside,” Jake says, pushing up to his feet. He shakes the snow from the quilt, making a mental note to hang it over the staircase railing to dry overnight. 

You look up at him, and Jake holds out a hand. 

Your eyes sparkle with mischief. “Head inside to watch the movie and make cookies, right?” 

He shakes his head, smirking. “No. I’ve got to get out of these wet pants before I get hypothermia. Thanks to you.” 

Hand slipping into his, Jake watches your mouth drop open, biting down on his lip. He tugs you to your feet, fast enough to send you crashing into his chest, just to hear that familiar surprised exhale shoot from your parted lips.

You look at him with narrowed eyes. “Watch it, Lieutenant. I’m cold too.” 

“Really?” He walks you back under the shelter of the doorway, shield you from the snow with his torso. Icicles glean from the edge of the roof. “Don’t want you getting hypothermia either then, darling. Think I might need to run a midnight shower for the both of us. How’s that sound?” 

Home makes his accent thicker, and Jake plays it up even more, watching the way your lashes flutter against your cheeks. He’s got you, hook, line, and sinker. 

“What about the cookie dough?” is the only protest that falls from your lips. 

“Put ‘em back in the fridge,” Jake instructs, leading you back inside and closing the door behind you both.

 “And don’t you worry, sweetheart…” He presses the next words into the hollow right below your ear, planting a wet kiss there, skating his tongue out to lick the delicate skin. “I’ll go easy on you. You’ve got to be able to get on a horse tomorrow.” 

A wonderful gasp graces his ears, and Jake can’t help his grin. 

You scowl at him, but Jake feels you shiver against him. His grin widens, sharp and intent. He heads back into the living room to unplug the Christmas lights.

Ma sees you headed back from the horseback ride early on Christmas morning before the rest of the Seresin clan will come around to exchange well wishes and open presents.

Frowning slightly, Ma pulls him aside and asks, “Where’d you take that girl this morning?” 

Brows furrowed, Jake recounts the route, taking you around a local trail that ran the length of a frozen stream and gave you a good view of the stables, dusted in white like a gingerbread house. You’d been giddy at the picturesque view, wearing an old film camera around your neck to snap a few shots. You’d pressed your gratitude against the line of his neck, and Jake probably needed a cold shower before changing into his Christmas attire.

“It was an easy one,” Jake asks, confused. “Why?” 

“Wasn’t a rough ride with the snow, was it? She’s limpin’ a little bit.” 

And Jake buries his grin behind a cough. 

end note: butterfly comes from me listening to phoebe bridgers's so much wine cover on repeat while writing this. hope you liked it, but i'd love to hear your thoughts and feelings!

part two with the shower smut, lmk? now posted here!

[melodygatesauthor]

Chapter 13: Inner Demons

prof!Steven Grant-Jake Lockley-Marc Spector X f!Reader

Edited by: @whatthefishh - Special thank you to @moonknightly for assisting with some technicalities in this chapter.

Mood Boards - Book Cover - Masterlist

Chapter Summary

Steven learns some devastating news. You feel more confused than ever.

Tags/Summary (these are for the ENTIRE fic):

college AU, no powers/not in MCU/no Khonshu (as a deity), talk of mental illness, Marc has DID, forbidden relationship, age gap, reader is 21y/o, Boys are 38y/o, reader attends college in America but isn't necessarily American, smut, sex, masturbation, p in v, creampies galore, reader is on birth control, dubious consent due to identity issues, ANGST, romance, fluff and smut, oral sex, falling in love, reader is not race coded, minor mentions of alcohol addiction and depression.

Word Count: 2.9k

----

When Steven woke up on the Monday following his birthday, he didn’t think that his entire world would blow up the way it did, more than it already had before that day. He thought that he’d already experienced the worst day of his life on the day a rift was torn between the two of you. He was wrong.

He still avoided Moonbean Coffee like the building alone would put him in a straight jacket. He still had to walk by it on the way to his classroom though. Every time he passed by it there was an unrivaled pain in his gut that he couldn’t easily shake. He looked at his reflection in the window. The way the panes sat gave Steven the perfect view at both Marc and Jake. He scowled at them and continued his walk.

He hated seeing you. He hated sitting at his desk, watching you walk through the door in your pretty clothes and perfect face. He hated that he couldn’t look forward to seeing you in his office later just so he could kiss you, and be close to you. He still dreamt about you all the time. He especially loved the dream he had on the night of his birthday, where he had you outside on the hood of his…well he could tell it wasn’t his…but a car. Your eyes were so full of love when you looked at him in his dreams. Sometimes he wished he could live in there.

Now your eyes were staring at your laptop screen. He could tell that you were trying so hard to keep them there, trying so hard not to meet his gaze. You finally did look at him though, when he reminded everyone of the next big assignment due…midterms. You’d forgotten, he could see it plain as day on your face. It was like you were begging him silently to take it back. Given everything he’d put you through, it was no wonder you weren’t prepared. He failed you as a man, and as a professor.

You remembered the substitute professor mentioning the midterm assignment once…was it twice? You sighed in a frustrated huff. The sub could’ve mentioned it a hundred times and you would’ve forgotten. Your mind wasn’t on school in the slightest. You’d been so wrapped up in Steven, the late night rendezvous, and his return to school, that you’d completely let the essay due on the renaissance slip your mind.

It was straight to the library for you once class was over. No way in hell were you going to be able to focus in your dorm room, nor were you going to have the resources you would need in order to get your research done. You didn’t even have a topic picked out yet. You couldn’t fail this class, not after you’d told your parents that you would get tutoring and do well in history this year.

You sat down in the back corner of the library, as you often did, pulling out your laptop before resting your face in your hands. You felt drained; emotionally, mentally, even intellectually. Spring break was right around the corner, but it couldn’t come soon enough. You needed the mental reset to get yourself back on track. You needed to move on from him somehow. You knew that much was true, you’d known it for a while. 

It helped that he’d been more distant over the last few weeks. You felt like you could break things off easier now, and it might not hurt as much as the initial blow when he broke it off in his office. That didn’t mean that it was going to be easy…it just meant that you were finally ready to move on. At least, that’s how you felt at that moment. 

You let out a heavy sigh. This was it. You were too smart for all of this nonsense. You and your parents were putting too much into your schooling for you to let it all fall apart over…whatever was still going on between you and Steven. It was time for you to actually move on. It was time for you to let go, despite still feeling some love for him, and despite the fact that he had taken so much from you and hurt you the way he did.

It was that simple. You would just let things go back to normal. The next time he texted you to meet outside, you would ignore it. You were happy with your decision, but when you lowered your hands from your face, he was standing there, looking nervous with his hands clenched into balls in front of him. You wondered if he knew that he did things like that, and you wondered if he knew how effortlessly cute it was. You just wanted to kiss that wrinkled spot between his upturned brow. So much for letting him go.

“Hey…hi erm…” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

He was feeling a little bit of regret wash over him after approaching you. He shouldn’t have done that. Both Jake and Marc were practically screaming at him to stop, both for different reasons, but telling him to stay away from you all the same. He was shoving them back again, his desire to comfort you and help you outweighting their shouting in his mind. Steven was a little surprised by your expression though. You didn’t look angry, or even sad as he thought you might. You looked…confused.

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked in a harsh whisper, trying to make sure that no one in the library would hear you speaking to him.

He looked surprised at your response, furrowing his brow and stuffing one of his hands in his pocket. His jaw dropped, and he started stammering to find the words to say. He looked around, making sure no one was there before he continued.

“I-I…well…I could see that you were a-a little taken aback when I reminded everyone of the paper so I thought…if we are in a public setting I wouldn’t mind still tutoring you if you really need–”

“Steven, what the fuck are you talking about?” You looked around the library, panicked.

You thought back to the texts he’d sent you just over a week ago:

Steven: Hey love, I’m coming back to school tomorrow. I think it’s time. Make sure not to speak to me or even come near me, alright?

Steven: Can’t even have you asking for help with class. Just pretend you don’t know me at all if you want this to continue.

“You’re still my student, I still have a responsibility to help you. If we’re in a public place it will force us to keep our hands to ourselves. If you even still like me that way. I’m not saying you do, I’m not sayin’ that. Probably should’ve tutored you in public in first place now that I’m thinkin’–”

“You told me to pretend I didn’t know you, first of all and second, why would you think I don’t like you when…” you looked around and lowered your voice further, “when we were just with each other last night?”

He sniffed out a laugh, narrowing his eyes in confusion. You saw his brow furrow as if he had no idea what you were talking about. He shook his head like he was trying to understand what you were saying, as though you were speaking a language foreign to him. Then you saw the complete shift in his expression, as though a huge realization hit him. He stepped back, covering his mouth in his hand.

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the–

“I’ve gotta go,” he said suddenly, leaving the library quickly, leaving you more confused than you’d ever felt.

“Steven…what the hell was she talking about…‘with each other last night’?” Marc asked, voice full of anger.

Steven didn’t answer. He was shaking, trying hard to keep from falling over on his wobbling legs. He’d never felt like this before, such anger, dread, and panic rushing through his veins like a doctor had given him an emotional cocktail in a syringe. Adrenaline forced his hands to tremble, he noticed it when he opened the door to the outside.

Nothing good could come from him screaming at the other two while he stormed out of the building. He didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself, despite the panic building inside his chest. How he made it to his flat in one piece was beyond his understanding. He was still shaking uncontrollably when he tried to get the key in the door handle. He dropped them loudly in the hall. He thought he heard one of his kind neighbors ask if he was alright as they exited their own flat, but his hearing was like white noise.

The moment he stepped inside, he slammed the door behind himself and he dropped to the floor. He buried his face in his hands, and let the pain surge through him. This couldn’t be. This couldn’t be true. How could this happen? Steven had never hated himself, and the men inside his head so much. He yelled out, slapping his hand on the floor.

“Steven! Have you been seeing her behind our BACK?!” Marc yelled, forcing his way to the front in place of Steven. He stood up, walking over to the three-way mirror to face his alters. “Answer me!”

Steven looked at Marc with the utmost disdain Marc had ever seen his alter muster.

“Wasn’t me…” 

A tear trickled down Steven’s cheek. Marc could feel the rage inside of him. This was unusual for Steven, even in his angriest moments. Steven thought back to last night. The ‘dreams’ he and Marc had been having; you bent over various parts of a car they didn’t recognize; the way you looked at them in their dreams, like something was off about the way they were talking to you, or the way they were acting.

“Jake.” Both Marc and Steven said, looking at Jake’s panel in the reflection.

Marc grabbed onto the mirror. It trembled under his grip. Jake didn’t let much bother him, or shake his usual calm demeanor, but the other two were glaring at him. It wasn’t uncommon for Marc to hold a look of aggravation, but Steven…Steven looking at him that way made him feel an insurmountable wave of guilt like never before.

“Are you guys going to let me explain or are you going to cut me off and yell at me the second I start talkin–”

“How dare you.” Steven said and Jake threw his arms up in frustration at the interruption. “You knew I was suffering, going through this…this…break up, and you kept seeing her? Behind my back?”

“Escucha hermano! Por favor,” Jake said, sensing that Steven was getting even more upset by the second, and rightfully so.

Steven was fronting again, and the tears started flowing freely. He felt distraught with the pain of betrayal reverberating through his bones. He had to think, to make sure he was understanding correctly what was happening. He stepped away from the mirror with his face buried in his hands.

You had been sleeping with Jake for who knows how long, while Steven took a back seat and Marc thought he had everything under control. The lying snake. Jake’s moral compass was always questionable, but this was low, even for him. At least he’d been considerate of the system in the past. Even his immorality had good intentions behind them. This was completely and utterly selfish.

“Does she know?” Steven dropped his hands and looked at his reflection…at Jake, “does she know that she was sleeping with someone else?!”

The silence was all the answer Steven needed. You’d been letting Jake have his way with you without realizing it was him this entire time. He was out of words to say. It was like his face was frozen, mouth slackjaw and eyes glistening with the realization of what this meant. You thought that Steven and you were still together, and Jake had been tricking you into sleeping with him. This was disgusting. This was bad…this was very bad.

“Jake, you of all people should understand what kind of trouble we could be in!” Marc yelled, “I mean come on! The poor girl already dealt with the heartbreak of losing Steven once, and now you’re going to–”

“We have to tell her, Marc.” Steven said, looking into his panel. “After what he put her through? She deserves the truth.”

“No, no we can’t tell her the truth,” Jake chimed in, “she will leave us for good.”

“Good!” Marc yelled, “that would be the best thing that could happen right now. I’m with Steven on this one.” Marc grumbled under his breath. “Poor girl, you’re sick Jake. The three of us are supposed to be keeping a low profile, and you might just manage to get us arrested, or at best put in an asylum.”

“Thank you Mar–”

“Why do you got such a stick up your ass over this huh? Nobody is worried about a small-time professor at a random college in the US. Khonshu and his men won’t find us, even if she and Steven got caught. You coulda just let them stay together! If you tell her the truth now we just might get caught, ever think of tha pendejo?”

“That’s not even the point anymore, you fucked her in the back seat of your fucking car and she deserves to know that!” Steven’s voice cracked while he yelled, swearing more than Marc had ever heard in all the years he’d had Steven around. “There’s no way in hell she’s staying with us after this, and I wouldn’t blame her! She shouldn’t stay with us! Congratulations to the both of you for, once again, managing to ruin my life!” Steven sighed, “I ruined her life. Never should’ve dragged her into this. We need to come clean, it’s the right thing to do.”

Steven charged over and grabbed his coat from the coat rack, but Jake stopped him, taking over the body.

“Not a chance hermano, I’m not letting you ruin this for us,” he stepped away from the coat rack, dropping Steven’s jacket on the floor.

Jake didn’t want to keep deceiving you, of course not. He wouldn’t consider himself a bad person, or someone that took pleasure in causing you emotional pain, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you looked at him. Your eyes always lit up a little when your gaze met his. It was like nothing else mattered, and he’d never felt that with anyone before. The thought of losing that feeling - of losing you - gave him a sense of desperation unlike any he’d ever felt. He considered that he might rather die than experience the agony of not having you in their life.

“So…what? Are you just going to keep doing this to her? What the hell is wrong with you?!” Steven protested.

Marc took over again, and he went to the couch and sat down, taking a deep breath. He buried his face in his hands, shaking his head and sighing deeply. This was such a fucking mess. They were always making such a fucking mess of everything. He and Jake had made Steven’s life hell, and in Marc’s attempt to make his life better, both Steven and Jake had fallen for someone they weren’t allowed to have. Marc once again felt an overwhelming sense of self loathing. 

“Dumb…this is so…” Marc leaned back, staring at the ceiling and taking a moment to embrace the silence, “dumb.”

“We can’t tell her, she’ll hate us. I…I don’t want to let her go.”

There was a pull at Marc’s heartstrings from the one that he least expected to feel it from…Jake Lockley. He expected this from Steven, but never from Jake. Marc’s fist was clenched so hard that his knuckles ached. He ran a hand through his messy curls, courtesy of Steven, and then he let his hands drop to his sides.

“We can’t let her keep meeting with you and thinking it’s me, Jake. S’wrong and you know it. Oughta be ashamed. Disgusting.” Steven spat, seething with anger toward Jake.

Marc reached into Steven’s pants pocket and pulled out his phone. He opened up your contact and pressed the little green phone.

“Steven, gonna need you to–”

“Yeah, on it,” he said, coming to the front and waiting for you to pick up on the other end.

He could feel Jake trying to stop him, but to no avail. Steven knew what had to be done, and they were going to do it. There was no way around it anymore. The three of them were a package deal, that much was evident, and it was time for them to tell you the truth. You picked up on the other line, and Steven’s breath caught in his throat.

“Steven? Why the hell are you calling me?” You must’ve still been in the library, based on your harsh whisper.

“Can you come to my flat, please? We need to talk.”

“What do you mean? I thought you said–”

“Now…”

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Moon Knight Masterlist

[veryinactiveartist]

MY SILVER MOON

Triple Frontier | Frankie Morales Moodboard ft. Santiago

A Musical Moodboard for @jolapeno & @goodwithcheese Fall Challenge!

⏯️ Now playing: Luna de Xelajú (entre cuerdas) ⏭️

Concept Synopsis

Coffee & Espresso: Morales Mocha

Specialty Drink: Stargazing

It's hard explain a longing that cannot be. It's so easy for life to get in the way. To get in between what they really want. They were so young when they met; eager boys who drafted and quickly grew a bond thanks to similar up bringing, interest, language and all the other little things. They didn't have anyone else to connect with, always in close quarters and the circumstances were just right when they start right when they started to feel it.

Frankie and Santiago both knew but it didn't feel safe at the time. Time only passed and neither could ever feel ready. Thanks to their uncertainty the months turned into years yet they said nothing. At that point Frankie gave up, moving on to leave Santiago behind just as he was ready to confess. Only it was to late now. At least they could be friends right?

Well... they could be; working together could be ok enough and maybe they both grew out of that need for each other. That was the case for years but after losing Ben, something shifted. How the weapons they held seemed weak compared to the longing that was killing them in the inside.

Frankie was married, but sometimes he wished he wasn't. He didn't stop loving his wife, child and even felt happy, but maybe it wasn't enough. She had left him, and frankly, he felt blindsided. It hurt Frankie to be alone again but it didn't take long for Santiago to find out, come back and pick up any pieces. Neither of them knew where to start, what to even say. What do you tell someone you couldn't love after all this time? They didn't know but Frankie didn't want Santiago to be far away from him again. Not anymore.

After weeks of hangouts and unofficial dates, Frankie figured they'd be honest with each other and he wanted them to be alone and at ease when it happened. Away from any prying eyes, and the walls of their home weren't enough. He thought they could take a trip, just like the ones they used to. They would camp out by the nearest mountain range, light a fire, and if the weather was cool enough. They'd just sit out and look at the stars above.

A/N: So, this on is a bit long- my shipping powers kinda activated as I might make this into a possible fic in the future. Anyway it wasn't stated if we could do ships or not hope that's ok so I just went with it! Also it was really fun using Gaby's and Oscars cover for this as the song has been inspiring me for a Frankie & Santi fic for a hot minute. It's like Santiago is singing about Franky. maybe he'd even sing it to Frankie while playing the guitar👀

Ok secondly I had this idea of placing the mood board in a video so music can play vinyl style! If I could change anything I wish you could export videos with a PNG background but oh well.

So I'm currently ending my work season so I wanted to knock this out before I take the long trip back home and hope get my life in order jskksjs. My favorite part was the music board-(?) juke Moodboard? Idk what to call it lol but I would really like to make more of these boards in the future and will probably be my go to ones from now on. 🤗

[flowermountainpress]

Embers: end pages and cover color options

March 1

(Cross-posted from Patreon)

I might add a poll about cover and color choices BUT I'm not sure what options to even put on the poll yet. This is for Vathara's "embers", an atla fic. I was thinking a classic leather look and I have four colors of faux leather-- navy, black, white and brown.

My first thought was a merlin style looking book with brown leather and either darker brown or gold lettering. Or black leather with gold lettering is an entire mood.

.... actually now that I'm considering that, this will be four volumes. Maybe I can use all the colors with gold titling. Hear me out. All lowercase across the front cover, gold, "embers"

Oooh. And maybe end papers to represent the four nations 👀

Actually I should probably do something clever and fancy with the end pages, BUT vol 1 is a gift for my husband for his birthday in two weeks, so I might just go with something simple instead of perfect.

I tried the new technique of tying the signatures together with a bit of ribbon, same as I did in the press, and it kept things together to make lining them up between the boards easier!!!

You want them to be even because when you glue them, it's obviously permanent however you've aligned them.

I'm using tapes of book cloth.

Oh, and the chonk is a lie! My last post showed a lot of swell from where the signatures are folded-- basically the fold part is bigger than the other sides, but when you press it down, it mostly evens out. The less pages per signature you have, the bigger the swell is. I use eight pages per signature which keeps it down some.

Some people think eight is way too many. I enjoy it. Not too thick, not too thin. Next step is picking out end pages and trimming.

Anyway, the text block is currently 1 & 1/8th inch thick. It'll be about 4-5mm thicker by the time I add the cover. Probably 1.25 inch or maybe 1.5 at most if I'm bad at math and somehow make it thicker.

The first three arcs are in the earth kingdom, despite that also being the time Zuko learns water bending. So I think I'll use some sort of earth king theme, maybe. I might just pick the prettiest papers.

I am ABSOLUTELY taking suggestions!!! Also let me know if there's anything about the process you want more explanation about haha

[hughiecampbelle]

Your Relationship As Logans Youngest Would Include:

Requested: What would Logan’s relationship with his youngest child? - anon

A/N: I'm not 100% sure if this was a request or just a question, but I like it too much not to turn into a headcanon :) I'm basing it off these headcanons and this fic series because I love this Baby Roy! Feedback is always appreciated!!! 💜💜💜

Logan never wanted you from the beginning

He makes that abundantly clear with your mother, but she had no children, by him or anyone else, and thought this would be the way to trap him. It'll at least get her the money she wants when they inevitably divorce

Neither of your parents understand what it is to raise a child. Your mother was never warm and fuzzy with your siblings, let alone you. She hates the fact that she has to give up alcohol and sushi for you and definitely reminds you of all her sacrifices. Your father wants nothing to do with you. Period

He has three boys to choose from, more than enough for a single successor, and a daughter to carry on the family name. To Logan you're more like spare parts

He's older now, he has less time for children, less time for you. Less energy, too. He doesn't have time for you. He didn't have time for your siblings, but now he was even more busy. At least they're grown up, at least he doesn't have to parent them anymore. You're a baby, you supposedly need him. But his work is more important

After you're born he spends as little time with you as possible, leaving your mother and siblings to raise you. He can't remember, but he swears you cry more than the others. You cry all the time. It prevents him from working. It prevents him from inviting people over. You are deemed the reason he can't get anything done

It's up to your siblings mostly to raise you. Connor takes over as father figure and the rest do their best to protect you. When you're fussy or cranky or just not in a good mood they know better than to let you near Logan in that state. Things always end badly when you're around him

When he can't help but be around you, he remains distant. When you're old enough to walk and talk and go to school, he might ask about it. Probably not, though. He can't be bothered to care

You remind Logan of his own mortality. You're so much younger than he is, so much younger than your siblings. He sees you and realizes he doesn't have the energy anymore. He doesn't have the drive anymore. He's still got his bite of course, but he's getting older. He's not as scary as he used to be, at least he feels this way and it's why he's even more cruel than usual

Logan only hears word of your tantrums. You have a nasty temper that makes the help quit weekly. He doesn't have time for that. He'd just divorced your mother and became the parent with the most custody. He isn't going to hit you like Roman, he has this feeling you'd only get worse. You're already covered in bruises and scratches, he can't afford anymore questions

He sent you to your room for days at a time, he took away meals and toys and time with your siblings. Some days he even took you away from school, deciding that time with your teachers and friends was too good for you. You'd be so quiet, so still, he sometimes forgot you were there. When you begged for food and water he'd send a plate to your door, not wanting to see you at the table. Not wanting to see you at all

One day after a particularly bad week, after you threw yet another tantrum in front of his investors, he calls you into his study. You know you're not allowed in here. He has so many things he wants to say that he can't. He wants to yell and scream and order you to stop acting this way. It's childish, it's reckless, and if you don't straighten up, he'll ship you off to boarding school. Instead, what comes out is vague and simple: Quiet down.

Quiet down the tantrums, the emotions, the crying and yelling, the head banging, the scratching, the throwing, the disaster, quiet down everything until you are nothing. Until you are nothing

It is a non-threatening threat

Your siblings try to help, try to get in-between the anger and your father, but he knows. He sees everything that goes on inside his home. Your behavior is unacceptable and he will not stand it

When you started drinking, he took notice. You were, what? Ten, eleven, twelve. He'd had his first drink by your age. The fact that you had simmered down meant that it was working

He would do nothing to stop you, nothing to intervene. When you went to your mothers, when you weren't drinking, he was the one who heard all about how misbehaved you were. When you came home and self-sedated, he figured it was a win. He finally had you behaving. Ever since you were born he'd felt this anger, this disgust towards you. Now that you were limp and quiet and subdued, you were a pleasure to have

The pills were the next step, stealing from the bathroom cabinet, coke from Kendall's pockets, other drugs from school. He knew what was going on, but again didn't care. He felt like he'd been holding his breath your whole life and could now finally breathe

He didn't care what you did or how much you did it, it was your life he was fucking up, not his. Why should he care?

You wouldn't overdose til a few months later. He pays the hospital bills, never bringing it up. You collapse a few times at home, the help finding you, saving you, but he never brings it up. You come home and shut yourself in your room, out late every night

He's not an idiot. He knows exactly what you're doing, what you're trying to get rid of: the anger. He'd let you kill yourself over it. He has an heir, he has successors that aren't you. You're finally letting him do his job, letting him work. That's all he wanted your entire life

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"To do what?"

He knows. He's always known. And sometimes it feels like he's rubbing it in your face that he knows and doesn't care. It hurts and drives you to do more drugs and drink more alcohol. If he doesn't care about you, why should you?

He doesn't keep track of you. You're at clubs, bars, underground, all over the city. If you're not home by the time he goes to bed you are not his problem. Simple

When you call him that night, sobbing, asking for help, for safety, for him to pick you up after days of not being home, he nearly hangs up. You are weak. You always have been. Instead he calls Connor, knowing he's in the city, ordering him to find you. When the call ends he goes back to sleep without worry. This is your mess, your fault. He won't let you get in the way of another big day tomorrow

Years you spent ruining your life, your body, a decade you spent in those bars, in those clubs, drinking yourself to sleep every night because you were weak and couldn't deal with life

He doesn't see you for months after that. You go to rehab a few times. You stay with your siblings and then you get your own place. Neither of you talk about that night, that call. He is neither kind to you nor hateful. You simply exist. You are a letdown. You always have been. He was foolish to think you'd be any other way

Logan dies not liking you. You're clean now, have been for a year after multiple months of rehab and multiple months of falling off the wagon. But that doesn't mean a thing to him. You poisoned yourself for years. You poisoned your family. You couldn't deal with life and that made you weak. No matter how sober you stay or for how long, you did those things to yourself. No one else did. Logan didn't want you from the beginning, but your life just proves you are not a Roy, you never will be. You're, at best, spare parts

[marveltrumpshate]

DIGITAL WORK

Imagine this. You've just finished a fic set in a very specific time and place, say 1940s Brooklyn. When you post it, you want your readers to visually get the vibe of the fic before they start reading. You want them to see the famous bridge or what the streets looked like back then. Maybe your fic is noir-inspired, so you want to capture that dark moodiness and grit. You want to help paint the setting, but you don't really want a painting. What you want is a mood board, collage, or fic cover, three of the several types of digital works offered this year. Interested in getting a photo manip of your favorite characters enjoying each other's company? We have those too, so check out these auctions.

PODFIC

Podfics are an oft-overlooked medium in fandom. They require incredible skill to produce, yet podficcers rarely get the credit they deserve. They have to juggle different personalities and capture the tone of the scene they're reading. Recording can take hours. Podfics are amazing, and we have so much admiration for podficcers! Thankfully for all of us, several of these talented folks have offered up their skills for our auction. If you'd like a podfic produced of a favorite work to listen to while you're doing chores or going to sleep, now's your chance!

VIDEO

Last but not least, fandom always needs more fanvids and animations. How many of you have wished you could see the story you daydream in video format or your favorite fanart come to life through animation? How many of you hear a song that's perfect for your favorite character or ship and immediately want a video set to it? If you raised your hand, head here to bid on these auction offerings. These vidders/animators are ready to painstakingly create and edit the fanvid or animation of your dreams for you.

[england-would-fall]

Howdy, friendos! Please welcome to the stage some sentences from my newly begun FirstPrince fic (to eventually be filled with lovely kinky smut for all those who enjoy it as much as I do). We haven't reached that point yet, though, so for today it's all above board. Much love to @taste-thewaste, for whom this is being crafted.

Being the Prince of Wales in a bookshop had always, in a word, sucked. It sucked. He had to spend the whole time looking pensive and aristocratic, humming and nodding at all of the correct and none of the incorrect classics of Western literature. Meanwhile, someone in plain clothes went about with his list and inevitably got it wrong. Those “Now a Netflix original feature” and “Some Random Person’s Book Club” logos printed as part of paperback covers were what was wrong with modern society; he was sure of it. But he was here today, or trying to be here today, as Henry Fox, boyfriend of the First Son who would owe him a ton of oysters for this, as well as knitwear-clad black sheep of the Royal Family. It still sucked, but a bit less.

Tagging: @taste-thewaste @luainthewild @onthewaytosomewhere @keirgreeneyes @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion @chriscalledmesweetie + anyone else who's in the mood to share!

[v3nusxsky]

haah can i request a larissa x r fic?

maybe larissa comfort reader that is in a really sad/depressed mood and has a mental breakdown ‘cause they think they are a burden and they are not enough, they feel like they are constantly bothering the people around them with their stupid things, so they isolate themselves and cry, larissa finds out and comfort them and, idk, biig cuddles and sweet words (i’m so sorry if it’s too much specific, feel free to do whatever u want hh and it’s oki if u don’t want to write it)

i love u and ur fiic sm<33 -🌱

Never a burden to me| h&c

*Authors note~perfect mood to write one of these and it's such a good prompt.*

Trigger warnings~ depression anxiety and paranoid thoughts

Prompt~ see ask^^^

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Recently, everything had been piling on top of you, it was almost suffocating really. All you could do is try and cope with it, yet you weren't coping at all. Asking for help wasn't an option for you either. You didn't want to burden anyone with your problems after all they are just that, your problems. Recently you had leaned on your dear friends Enid and Wednesday, you felt you annoyed them with needing their help and support. They were lovely, yes Wednesday can be lovely once you get past the hard outer shell she had, but truthfully you felt like you infringed on their couple time and they saw you as this annoying cling on. So you'd avoid asking for help just to ensure you won't lose your friends.

You knew you were isolating yourself, you knew that wouldn't help you feel any better. You knew that. Yet you couldn't stop. No matter how hard to you tried to convince yourself, that it was okay to need someone's help, love and support, you just couldn't face the fact you'd be burdening them. After all why would they care about your problems?

You'd stop attending classes, opting to stay in your dorm wallowing and all in all crying until you couldn't cry no more, then you'd nap and repeat. This was day three now, you knew you needed to eat, drink some water and shower, yet the thought of leaving your bed was too overwhelming. That meant accepting you needed help. You knew that as soon as you got up and attempted to feel better, that you'd break down in guilt over pushing everyone away, and no one had checked on you yet so why should you bother?

Firm knocks sounded on your door and you immediately hid under your covers and tried to hold your breath. If you didn't make a sound they would leave. Right? Well wrong, Larissa Weems was determined to figure out why you had been skipping  class, after all this was extremely out of character for you. She was worried something bad had happened after being informed no one had seen you for three days. Meaning you hadn't left the room for a shower or to get food. Most concerning.

"Go away!" You mumbled hoping your foul mood would put the offender off. However, when the doorknob turned and you heard the creaking of the floor board you knew you had no such luck. "Oh sweetheart" she murmured taking in your room, truly it was as if a bomb had gone off, you in your hidden spot didn't see the waves of concern rushing over her. Larissa sat herself on the edge of your bed and murmured one last thing to you, "sweetheart when you are ready I'm here to talk okay? I want to help you darling."

Then silence was a comfortable one, only disturbed by the ticking of your bed side clock. Before you even knew it you were sobbing harshly once more, coming out of hiding and throwing yourself into the older woman's arms. She immediately embraced you and began to hush you with words of comfort, "oh sweetheart it's okay, you're gonna be okay. I'm here darling."

"Mm not too much?" You mumbled into her shoulder which was now drenched in your tears. "No darling not too much I promise you" she hummed, "and I never break my promises sweetheart." You sat in her embrace trying to soak in her words and gain the confidence to share your burden. "Feel like burden everyone and I feel unexplainably sad. Even getting dressed or showered or eating is a chore" you whimpered slightly feeling the emotional toll of your words, truly it did feel better now you had shared the burden. Obviously not magically disappeared, all better, but a little less intense and overwhelming.

You sat like that for a while until your stomach growled causing the headmistress to spring into action, "sweetheart you go grab a shower and I'll go down and get you something to eat and drink okay? Think we can manage that? And as a special treat I'll brush your hair and fix it however you wish okay?" Larissa Weems brushing your hair? Was this a dream come true?  "I'd like that momma, sorry I'm sorry I didn't" you whimpered feeling embarrassed at your slip up. "Hush sweetheart I don't mind and you can call me momma if you wish I feel like a mother too all my students" she reassured and made sure to flash you a genuine smile. "Darling shower time momma will be back soon" and with that she stood up to leave. "Thank you" was all you could whisper before the door shut, both of you feeling better than before her visit.

Word count~ 928