#anger and confusion and disappointment and rejection

[blueivyy99]

Calm and Serenity (Part 2)

Sylus x Non!Mc

summary: you didn't know what sylus saw in you. he said you were calm, quiet and serene and that's what he needs. you believed it. he showed it. not until little miss hunter came. she's everything you're not. news that she's in danger can make the ever so calm sylus to run and leave everything behind. it made you think, would he do that for you as well?

tags: angst, romance, hurt and comfort, confused sylus, non-mc reader (this is it for now)

note: thank you for the love in the previous chapter 🥹

Series Masterlist

It's been a month or two since the last time you've been with Sylus. It saddens you that the time you get to spend together is cut short, only seeing each other at night when he pleases to have dinner or greet you goodnight.

You asked Luke and Kieran about what's happening, but they don't know either. They just know it has something to do with Miss Hunter, about Aether Core, about something that you have very little knowledge about. You mentally noted to search about it later.

“He is very grumpy lately,” Luke said, "He was glaring at us like he wants to skin us alive whenever me and my twin are being a little louder than normal.”

"The only one safe from his anger is Miss Hunter,” Kieran added. "I don't appreciate that Boss is playing favorites in our team.”

You tried not to let out a shaky breath. Luke noticed and he had to elbow Kieran to make him shut up.

"Sorry, Y/N.”

You gave him a small smile. "It's okay. I'll try and catch Sylus one of these days. I'll talk to him.”

The twins scurry away while arguing. They think they offended you and they are passing on the blame with each other.

On normal days, it's not easy to get you offended but lately, every little thing just makes you … sensitive.

Maybe it started when you wanted that crow brooch that is neatly placed on Sylus's table …

When you asked him for it he just said, “It's for Miss Hunter,"

He took it from your hand. Albeit gently, it still weighed heavy in your heart.

You know you don't always get your way but with the little seeds of jealousy slowly growing in your heart, it's easy to feel hurt and feel neglected.

You just wanted that damn brooch and you know that he can buy another piece. Or even make you a custom-made one, one that is more inclined on your taste.

You took a deep breath.

Sylus is stressed. You know that and it's not right to add more to his burden. It's just a brooch after all.

“I-I didn't know, but when you have the time to grab one, remember me, okay?” you said.

"Next time, sweetie.” He replied and quickly went back to reading reports.

You don't know if he took your words seriously, but you have enough faith in him to trust that he did.

Or maybe the disappointment started when you wanted to go to Linkon.

There's a newly opened arcade shop that you're really itching to go.

Normally, Sylus would agree and watch you play. He's not the best when it comes to the claw machine, anyway.

So imagine your surprise when he rejected your offer. Not only that, the answer that followed chipped away at your heart little by little.

“Me and Miss Hunter already went there. It's not as fun as the other ones you've tried. You're just gonna waste your time there. Not even new plushies,” he even had the audacity to roll his eyes at that.

It seemed like he didn't think before speaking or he didn't see anything wrong with what he said.

Truthfully, there is none. The logical part of you knows he didn't say anything wrong. But for fuck's sake! Really telling your girlfriend that you went to the arcade with another woman? That's new. That's not something she expected of Sylus.

“You went with her?" you asked. You're anticipating his answer. Praying it's something logical. Something acceptable.

Please tell me it has something to do with those missions.

He looked at you, trying to see what's in your mind but you didn't show anything. Blocking any negative emotions from seeping on the cracks of your face. You tried to look as curious and as genuine as you can be.

Thankfully, he believed that.

“Yes. We went there after getting some intel around the area. She dragged me inside and she played until her heart's content. I remembered she went home with that crow plushie with a bib. She looked happy,"

You almost wanted to scoff at his face. You wanted that plushe as well, he seemed to forget about that. If it's only about the plushie maybe you can push down these negative feelings but here he is looking so endeared while saying that. As if he's not talking to his girlfriend.

Patience. Patience.

“I see. Good for her.” you said. "I also want that crow stuffed toy. Good thing to know they have them."

You tried giving him a hint. It's not like you to make anyone guess what's on your mind.

But then there's silence. And a beep on his phone. He tore his gaze away from you and your statement long forgotten.

At that point, you're holding yourself together trying not to scream and yell at him.

Maybe that's where it started. Maybe it's when you know that the distractions were not just caused by the missions but by Miss Hunter herself.

==

You sighed. It's evening and Sylus is still nowhere to be found. You texted him but you're met with silence. You wanted to call, but you hesitated. It feels like you don't have the right to do it.

Worry starts gnawing at you when Luke and Kieran hurriedly go out. They didn't even have the chance to say a proper goodbye.

Minutes kept ticking, and you heard it.

Explosions.

Your heart stopped and you wanted to run to where it was because something tells you that Sylus is there. He's in danger.

But before you can even step out of the base, Sylus's men stopped you.

“Boss’s orders to not let the Madame go out when the mission is in full swing. Please wait for him here."

You wanted to pull your hair out. You're trembling with worry but anywhere you go, someone will stop you. You can't even sneak out because that will surely trigger the alarms.

With a heavy heart you slumped on the couch.

“Fucking hell, Sylus what is happening when are you coming home!” you muttered to yourself.

You kept pacing and pacing every second seemed to last a lifetime.

Until the door opened.

And there he was, shirt torn, hair deshiveled and a few scratches on his body.

"Thank God you're alive!” you exclaimed and caught his heavy body before he lost consciousness.

"Sylus? Sylus!” you tried shaking him, but he won't wake up.

You settled him on the couch and grabbed the nearest first aid kit you can reach. Sylus might have the fastest regeneration in the world but it won't ease your worries about the small cuts that still remains on his body.

You tried suppressing your tears seeing him like this but you just can't. As you press the cotton on his cuts, you can't help but open your mouth and nag him about being careless.

“I know you think that this body is invincible, but please be careful! You need to come home to me. You have to come home to me. No matter how I'm annoyed at you right now, you don't have the rights to make me worry like this.”

“What's so important in that mission that you exhaust yourself like this? What's so important about Miss Hunter that you're willing to do such great lengths?"

You know that he can't hear you, but still you talked to him until you calmed down and ask his men to help you settle him in bed after changing him. You called the physician to check him up for anything. You kept yourself busy to shrugg of the nerves but those questions still linger in your head.

Sylus is a strategist even though he looks smug and arrogant. He carefully plans everything and tries to move in quiet only letting the results speak for themselves.

But this? This is not the usual.

Explosions everywhere and declaring a full on war with his enemies is not his style. You know that there's nothing really beneficial for him in this deal with Miss Hunter.

You managed to understand a bit about what their goals are. Getting that Aether core for Miss Hunter.

Tough mission, yes. But Sylus won't grab it if he won't benefit from it. And that's what you're left puzzled with. Sylus is a businessman, everything should be give and take.

So? What's in it for him?

==

You didn't expect the answer to voluntarily come to you. You went to his study to look for something or anything that you can help him with now that he's still unconscious when you stumbled upon a journal.

You thought it was not Sylus's. You never see him as someone who will write down his thoughts but you were dead wrong.

You opened it expecting it to be a list of things related to Onychinus, but you were greeted with phrases, sentences and some sketches about Miss Hunter.

You read each of them, it was a jumble of words. You almost thought it was a fairytale.

Past lives.

Dragon and Sorceress.

Kindred Spirits.

Energy Linkage.

Sweet Evil Trap.

All of it is too much. Too much for your poor little heart to take. And from what you understood, Miss Hunter is from his past. Someone who has a part of his soul.

Someone he waits for.

And the bitter realization although still unfounded, you concluded that maybe she's someone he still loves.

But what about you? What's your place in the grand scheme of things?

“I’m keeping you around because you’re still useful.”

Those lines ring in your ears. Sylus always say that to everyone but you. You thought that maybe you are an exception. That you're not someone disposable to him because you matter.

And as you soak up all the information that you knew, you started to doubt yourself as well.

note: aaackkk thank u for reading lemme know your thoughts! Part 3 soonest!

[darnell-la]

can we get some nsfw of logan heavily infantilizing reader? i know he's a mean mean man and i want him to make us cry 🥺 just wanna be doted on but also fucked like a beast

note: Logan is a very nasty individual in this story. He’s degrading, calls the reader out of her name many times, fucks rough, is manipulative, possessive, and more…

having Logan Howlett claim you are one of the best-given things that could happen.

———

How do you guys feel about a x men story with reader? Logan being rude Logan at first, then slowly shows small affection towards the reader. Jealousy and things of that sort. They soon hit it off, and after Logan starts acting rude again, because he’s scared of the love he grew for her. It’ll be a long story, but something to read at night. ALL ON WATTPAD! Comment below, please!

———

“You’re so fuckin’ childish, y/n, do you know that!? So fuckin’ childish!” Logan shouted at the girl as he placed her into his passenger seat. The man slammed the door in her face before walking around to the car.

Y/m scoffed as she crossed her arms, knowing she was wrong for what she’d done tonight, but at least she had fun.

Logan treats y/n like she has no idea what the world is like. Wade speaks to him, telling him he should take it easy because is his friend. Not Logan’s.

“Well, if I’m gonna stay in an apartment with two kids, I expect them to have manners and respect. If not, then I’m out of here,” Logan threatened a few months ago when he first got here.

Y/n had come home drunk out of her mind at three in the morning after Logan and Wade had been worried all night.

Her phone had died. She explained that to them, and Wade understood, but when she came through that door smiling, laughing, and giggling with the friend who dropped her off, it triggered Logan.

“I know pay the bills, and the apartment is his, but I’ll kick you the fuck out, kid,” Logan threatened as he got into the car and started it up, ready to get home and rest without stressing about y/n.

“I’m a grown woman, Logan. If I wanna go out and get drunk with my friends, I can!” Y/n turned towards the man just to yell before turning back towards the door, looking out of the window.

“What kinda fun is that, y/n? You’re a college student, you’ve got classes in the afternoon, you need to study, but instead, you’re out almost every weekend, pissy drunk and begging for a man to touch you,”

“What!? I don’t even go out with men! I reject them all,” y/n said, confused about why he even cared about her getting with anyone.

“Sure you don’t. Every time I pick you up or you walk through that door, you’re dressed sluttier. Every fucking time!” Logan yelled, hands groping the wheel as he drove through the city to head home.

“At this point, you’re just stressing yourself out. Let me live my life like I let you, okay? Fuck!” Y/n complained.

“So slutting around is living life now? God, you kids are fucking dumb,” Logan shook his head. “I don’t slut around!” Y/n basically screamed at the man.

“Lower your fucking tone when you talk to me, young lady!” Logan looked her way. The anger in his voice made her back up, trying to keep a straight face, but it was hard.

“Always fuckin’ yellin'. Can you ever shut the fuck up for once? Just do better in life and shut the fuck up — Grow up! Because you’re a-fucking-nnoying,” the man got out.

Y/n looked out of the window in silence, holding back her tears as the man continued.

“Be a fuckin’ lady, and respect yourself for once. For once!” He hit the wheel, making the girl jump. “Respect me!” The man hit the wheel again, but harder.

Y/n wiped a tear from her cheek quickly so he wouldn’t notice, but he did. Once he did, the man laughed to himself. “Unbelievable,” the man shook his head, disappointed in her.

“You can yell at me, but when I start yellin’ and tellin’ you what you look like, you start carrying. Fucking pathetic. Seriously!”

Logan didn’t mean to hurt the girl's feelings. He was just angry. He hated seeing her out and doing things he didn’t want her to do. Why can’t she just listen to him? Why does she need other people to make her happy when she has Wade and him at home.

The rest of the car ride was silent. Y/n wouldn’t sniff here and there, but low so she wouldn’t start Logan up again. She was embarrassed and disappointed in herself.

Right as Logan parked the car, y/n pulled on the handle to get out, but he had locked the door before she could.

“Looks y/n-“ Logan went to say, but y/n cut him off. “Let me out,” y/n said with a stern voice. “Y/n, just hear me out-“ he tried to say again. “Let me out!” She yelled, not even looking at the man.

“Hey!” Logan reached for her arm and grabbed it tightly. Y/n tried yanking herself away, but he was stronger. “Let me go!” Y/n yelled, only angering the man further. He had become obvious to the strength he had.

“Ow, Logan!” Y/n shouted at the man, but all he did was grip harder. “Stay still, y/n!” Logan demanded. “You're hurting me!” She finally said as tears streamed from her eyes.

The way she looked at the man in pain, not just from his grip, but more so from his words. Looking into his eyes, he realized he had gone too far.

“Y/n,” Logan said low as she fought the man, slapping his hand, but he wouldn’t let go. He only loosened his grip. “Let me go!” She could barely yell, only cry.

Logan shifted his body and lifted his other hand to cup her cheek. When he did, she tried shaking her head to get him off, but it wouldn’t leave.

“Please!” She cried, but Logan didn’t let her leave. All he did was let her arm go, only to push her seat back and hover over her quickly, the other hand still on her cheek.

“Baby, don’t cry,” Logan said, but she couldn’t stop. She sobbed as she weakly slapped Logan’s body, telling him to leave her alone, but that was the last thing he was going to do.

“Baby, look at him — It’s okay, just look at me,” Logan said as he placed the other hand on her other cheek, forcing her to look at him.

“I’m sorry, y/n, okay? I’m sorry,” Logan spoke. That was when y/n cried harder with no words. “Aw, baby,” Logan said, trying to wipe her tears away, but they kept rolling.

“All I wanted was for you to be safe, baby. That it. It’s dangerous out here. You can’t just be goin’ out every night, looking the way you do. You just can’t,” Logan said.

“If you wanna drink, we got it at the house. You know that. No more goin’ out, and you won’t look like this anymore,” he said, hoping to manipulate her into staying in the house, and in his sight.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Logan said and kept repeating until she ducked in her cries. It took her a while, but she managed.

“Please understand that I want you safe, y/n. Do you understand that?” Logan asked. Y/n slowly nodded her head with a sniff, making him smile slightly.

“That’s it, baby. All I want is for my baby to be safe — No more goin’ out after tonight. Maybe with me, but I have to be by your side. It’s too dangerous,” he said.

“B-But my friends,” y/n sniffed. “They’ll be fine, baby. They love you and will understand. You want me to trust you and not be stressed out, right? You want me to be? I’m gettin’ old, and ion needa be stressin’ about my girl,” Logan said.

Y/n nodded her head, halfway understanding what he wanted, but not fully. She didn’t ask though. She just knew by the way he always acted that he wanted her in sight and safe with no funny business.

“Good, baby, good,” Logan said, looking into the girl's eyes as she looked back up at him, eyes bloody and eyelashes batting.

“You’re too pretty to be seen without me, baby, and you know that, don’t you? Don’t you, baby?” Logan asked, making her nod again.

“That's right, and you're sorry for disobeying me, right?” He asked. The way he spoke to her, made her feel like she’s actually done something wrong.

“S-Sorry,” she said low. A groan slipped past the man’s lips at her words and voice. She was too sweet to believe she was real.

“Ah huh, and are you gonna show me just how sorry you are?” He asked. Y/n surprisingly nodded quickly, wanting him to know that she meant nothing personal by the way she lived.

“Good girl — Now turn around for me,” Logan said. Her mind wasn’t honking straight, but she did as told, apologizing for her body rubbing on his as she did so. “It’s okay, baby - You’re all good,”

“I’m just a little angry, and you understand that, right? It’s acceptable to why I am, right, baby?” He asked her, making her him with a nod.

“Ah huh, and you’re gonna help me relax, right, baby?” He asked and she repeated what she had done before, but more shaky. “That right,”

Logan began unbuckling his belt, watching the girl underneath him shiver from how drunk she was, the cold air coming through the cracked window, her crying session, and the confusion of this situation.

“Never listenin’ to me, baby. I don’t like that,” Logan said before giving y/n a hard slap on her ass that was covered in her tight thin dress. A whine had slipped from her mouth, only making the man groan.

“Yeah, and I’m gonna bring all this anger right out on and into you, baby,” Logan said as he pulled himself out. “And guess what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna lay here, and take it like the disrespectful little slut you are,”

Y/n whined at his words, feeling shitty for not being respectful towards the older man, but she’ll soon understand to listen.

“Every time I pick you up or watch you walk through those doors, you’re fuckin’ soaked. I just know you’re out and about, waiting for some random man to offer his cock,”

“I know you’re whore enough to take it too, now ain’t you?” Logan asked. “N-No,” y/n shook her head with a whine as he pulled her dress up, revealing her dark wet patch.

“Sure you’re not, baby. You know the drunk sluts always say that, right? Until they’re caught being stuffed and fucked in some bar bathroom,”

Y/n whined again at his comment about what he thought of her as his fingers hooked around her pants. The man pulled his fingers back, causing the panties to rip perfectly.

“You wanna be treated like some dirty slut at the bar?” Logan asked as he put his cock in his hand. “No,” y/n truly spoke, but he didn’t believe her.

The man grabbed a handful of her hair and then pushed her head into the seat. “Are you sure, baby? Because you’re gonna spreading in my passenger seat just like them club whores,”

Before y/n could say anything, the man laughed into her, forcing his huge length through her walls, knowing she would barely be able to take him.

“Logan!” Y/n cried out loud, voice crazy as she gripped and clawed at the seats. “Nah uh, you shut the fuck up!” Logan spat through his teeth as he leaned over and into the girl's ear.

“Pussy’s so fuckin’ wet, I know you want this. You always do. Comin’ back from the fuckin’ bar all soaked and full of attitude. I just know you rub that shit in my face,”

“I fuckin’ know you come through those doors wanting me to fuck your drunk ass through my mattress,” the man snapped his hips hard.

“Oh yeah? Can't take it?” Logan asked as the young girl cried in pain and pleasure. “S-Sorry, sorry,” she quickly whined as she back arched.

“No, you’re fucking not. You’re only sayin’ it now because I’m fucking this cunt dumb,” Logan growled in the girl's ear as he tugged on her hair.

“Slutty fuckin’ cunt - Grippin’ me like she ain’t been fucked in the club already,” Logan said, making the girl shake her head.

“N-No,” she managed to say. “Oh yeah? You’re tellin’ me no man has been in this cunt at the club? Fuckin’ you silly in the bathroom as you pass out from the liquor?” Logan asked.

He had already known the answer, but he was angry. He wanted to get everything out. If he could smell how wet she was every weekend, he could smell a man on her, and thankfully for her, he never has.

“N-No,” y/n whined as she came around him without warning. He hadn’t cared that she soaked his leather seats. All he cared about was how could he could fuck he’d. Maybe if he fucked he’d be good enough, she wouldn’t dare leave the apartment again.

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought. You don’t let another man touch you. Never!” He pounded, knowing the wind out of her with every thrust.

“I swear, if you do, baby, ima kill him. Ima fuckin’ kill him then lock your ass in my room,” Logan threatened, only making y/n moan.

“My fuckin’ cunt — Mine! All fuckin’ mine and you know it. You’ve been known it, Bub, and because you wanted to play games, I’m gonna teach you what the fuck happens when you do,”

Logan took the seatbelt to the car and tied it around her wrist after pulling them man. The man soon continued his anger by slamming into her until she cried, begging him to stop.

He was rough, but y/n knew deep down that she deserved it. She was disrespectful and didn’t listen to him. He should get what he wants.

“You're mine, right, baby? All mine to use like those I want at the bar and club?” Logan asked as y/n could barely keep herself conscious. “Y-Yes,” was all she could get out.

“That’s my girl,”

[brunchable]

LAZARUS SERUM || Steve Rogers x Enhanced!FReader [18+]

Part II

Part One | Part Three Words: 12.2K Themes: Angst, Drama, Violence (causing 1 death), Action (Fighting Scenes: With Steve and Tony), Hatred, Lovers to Enemies, Enemies to Lovers. Warning: Smut with The Winter Soldier. Choking, Spanking, Mild Degredation? Unprotected piv sex, hair-pulling, dirty-talking. Sneak Peak: “So,” you drawled, breaking the silence with a voice dripping in mockery, “The great Captain America finally graces me with his presence. I must say, I’m flattered. Though, I’m starting to think you only come around when your self-righteousness needs a little top-up.” A/N: The council has spoken and they said include the Bucky seggs scene. If you don't want to read that part, then just skip it? Let me know if you want to be tagged, yes? Thank you.

Tags: @needsleep3000 @vicmc624 @i-can-do-this-all-dayy @mrs-jjmaybank @strepsils123 @nesnejwritings @haruvalentine4321 @feelinthefic @niffala

The bar in Brooklyn was filled with the sounds of celebration. Soldiers clinked their glasses together, sharing stories of their latest victory, their laughter and cheers filling the air. But at a small table in the corner, Steve Rogers sat in silence, a drink in his hand that he hadn’t touched. The noise around him felt distant, muffled by the weight of his thoughts.

Bucky made his way through the crowd, a smile tugging at his lips as he spotted Steve. The relief of seeing his friend safe brought a warmth to his chest. He dropped into the chair beside Steve, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

“Steve! Man, I can’t wait to see Y/N’s reaction when she finds out we’re back. She’s probably worried sick.”

Steve’s smile faltered, his grip tightening around his glass. He took a deep breath, the words he knew he had to say caught in his throat. 

“Yeah… she always did worry,” he replied, his tone withdrawn.

“I can see it now—she’s gonna give us hell, but she’ll be glad to see us, especially you.” Bucky didn’t notice at first, too caught up in the moment. 

Steve forced a weak smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The knot in his stomach tightened as Bucky spoke, and he was afraid to confess, afraid of Bucky's reaction. He stared at the drink in his hand, the weight of his guilt growing heavier by the second.

Bucky finally noticed the tension in Steve’s posture, the way he avoided eye contact. His smile faded, replaced by concern. “Steve… What's going on? Something's bothering you.”

Steve exhaled slowly, his lips twitching as he shook his head, “Bucky… something happened before I left for the rescue.”

“Okay?” Bucky furrowed his eyes, a couple of scenarios reeling in his head, “Did you get Y/N pregnant?”

“What? No…” Steve shook his head vigorously, although he'd prefer to be in that situation compared to this.

“Then what happened?” Bucky’s concern deepened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned in.

Steve hesitated, the shame now joined his emotions list. “Y/N and I… we had a fight. A bad one.”

“A fight?” Bucky echoed, a bit confused since a fight is normal in relationships. “About what?”

Steve struggled to find the words, but there’s no turning back. “I said some things I shouldn’t have. I questioned her loyalty. I… I let jealousy get the better of me. I asked her if she was only with me out of pity, or if… if maybe she had feelings for you instead.”

“Jesus, Steve…” he muttered, blinking his eyes in disappointment and Steve’s head dropped, his shame too heavy to face Bucky directly. Bucky stared at Steve, the shock giving way to a rising tide of anger. “You've got to be out of your mind if you really believe that.”

“I know, but… at the time, I was blinded.”

“Steve, do you remember when you first got that rejection letter from the army, and you were down in the dumps? Y/N was the one who picked you back up. She stayed with you for hours, talking you through it. And when you were sick with pneumonia, she practically moved in with you to help take care of you. She barely slept for days nursing you.” Bucky leaned forward, his voice growing more intense as he fought to control his emotions.

Steve nodded slowly, each memory a painful reminder of how much he had taken for granted, “I know, Bucky. I know she was always there for me.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, figuring out how to spit out what he wanted to say. 

“And I’ll admit it okay?” Bucky continued, his eyes looking anywhere but Steve. “I… I love Y/N. But she was too busy to notice because her heart was yours. Devotedly.”

Steve felt a squeeze in his chest by the shock of Bucky’s confession. He stared at Bucky, wide-eyed and stunned, struggling to process the words. He knew Bucky liked you but not love.

Steve’s chest tightened, the weight of Bucky’s words pressing down on him. “I was wrong. But that night… I couldn’t see past my own jealousy and fear.”

“Stop making excuses,” Bucky’s fists clenched at his sides, his frustration growing. “So what happened? You just let her walk away?”

Steve’s voice trembled as he admitted the truth. “No. I walked away. I left her alone, and in the morning her mother called me. She disappeared, and it’s because of me.”

Bucky’s world seemed to spin as the full impact of Steve’s words hit him like a truck. 

“Gone?” he repeated, allowing the word to sink in. “What do you mean by gone?”

“She's missing, Bucky,” Steve said, his voice thick with regret. “I tried to find her, but… she was just gone. And it’s my fault. I—”

Bucky staggered back, a mixture of emotions crashing over him like a wave. “How could you do that, Steve? After everything… how could you leave her like that? And then, in the midst of all this… how could you even dance with that fucking agent lady?”

Steve’s eyes widened slightly at Bucky’s outburst, the raw anger in his friend’s voice catching him off guard. “Bucky, I—”

But Bucky wasn’t finished. His emotions boiled over, and before Steve could say another word, Bucky slammed his fist down on the table, causing the glasses to rattle. His voice shook with animosity and he leaned in closer, his eyes blazing. 

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to!  But now… now you don’t actually get the chance. Now we both have to live with the fact that she’s missing? maybe dead? And for what?”

Steve flinched at the word, ‘dead’. Steve’s head dropped, his shoulders slumping under the crushing weight of his guilt. 

Bucky couldn’t process it, couldn’t reconcile the Steve he knew with the one who had let you slip away. He pushed back from the table, shaking his head in disbelief as the pain and anger twisted inside him.

“Get out of my way.” Bucky pushed a drunkard out of his way and stomped off.

The noise of the bar faded into the background as Bucky walked away, his heart heavy with the knowledge that the one person who had always been there for both of them was now gone. And as Steve sat alone, the victory they had fought so hard for felt hollow, drowned out by the guilt and loss that now ate him from the inside, out.

× × × ×

Steve and Natasha drove through the busy streets, the cityscape bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. The mission had hit a temporary lull. Natasha, ever the observant one, noticed the contemplative look on Steve’s face as he navigated the streets.

Steve had just found out that Bucky is alive and it was a lot for him to take in. Steve's mind was a storm—he was at some point relieved he's alive but at the same time, he wasn’t. How was it possible? His best friend, the man he had mourned for decades, was not only alive but had been turned into a weapon by HYDRA. The thought alone made his stomach churn.

He remembered the nights he and Bucky would wander the streets, talking about their dreams, their future—an uncertain future that had been stolen from them by the war. Now, everything felt different, tainted by the knowledge of what had become of Bucky.

Steve’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as a wave of guilt washed over him. He had failed Bucky—failed to save him, failed to protect him. And now, Bucky was out there, a shadow of the man he once was, driven by forces beyond his control. The weight of that failure pressed down on Steve’s chest like a vice, making it hard to breathe.

"So," Natasha started, her tone light but probing, "anyone special back home? Or are you still dodging those office setups with Agent 13?"

Steve chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "She’s nice, but… I’m not really looking right now."

"Come on, Steve. A guy like you—there’s gotta be someone," Natasha pressed, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Or was there someone? Back in the day."

Steve’s smile faded a bit, and he glanced out the window, his mind clearly elsewhere. Natasha immediately picked up on the change in his demeanor.

"There was someone," he admitted quietly, his tone a mixture of fondness and regret.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Oh? Now, this sounds interesting. Tell me about her."

Steve hesitated, the memories of the past tugging at him. "Her name was Y/N. We were together before the war—before I was Captain."

"Ooh, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend. What happened?" Natasha's expression softened. 

Steve sighed, his grip tightening slightly on the steering wheel. "I let her go. After I got the serum, I… well, I let it get to my head."

"What do you mean?” Natasha turned slightly in her seat, giving him her full attention. 

Steve exhaled slowly, he felt like he's reliving the massive mistake of his life. "I started getting attention from girls—more than I ever had before. And I liked it. I let my brand-new image get to my head, and started to think maybe I deserved it after everything I went through. But it wasn’t real, and I lost sight of what was important. I pushed Y/N away, even though she was the one who had been there for me before everything."

Natasha clicked her tongue in disapproval, but her eyes softened with understanding. "Steve, you were young, and everything changed overnight. That kind of shift… it’s hard not to get swept up in it."

Steve nodded, but the regret in his eyes was unmistakable. "I know, but that’s no excuse. I let her down. By the time I realized what I’d done, it was too late. She was gone, disappeared without a trace."

"Did you try to find her?" Natasha asked, her voice gentle.

"I did," Steve said, his voice thick with emotion, like he was reliving the time where he scoured every nook and cranny of Brooklyn for her. "I tried everything I could, but she was just… gone. Her mother called me, told me Y/N had disappeared the morning after I walked away. I can’t help but think that if I’d done things differently, she’d still be here."

Natasha reached over, placing a hand on his arm in a comforting gesture. "Steve, you can’t carry that guilt forever. You made mistakes, sure, but that doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of forgiveness."

Steve’s expression remained pained, his eyes filled with regret. "I wish I could go back and make it right, Nat. She deserved better than what I gave her."

Natasha gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. "You can’t change the past, Steve, but you can learn from it. If she’s still alive, you owe it to both of you to try and make things right."

Steve looked at Natasha, his gratitude clear, but the weight of his past still heavy on his shoulders. "If she is, I just don’t know if she’d ever forgive me. Or if I even deserve it."

Natasha offered a small, understanding smile. "Forgiveness is a two-way street, Steve. You’ll never know unless you try."

Steve just nodded.

As they continued driving, the conversation lulled into a comfortable silence, but Steve’s thoughts remained on Y/N. The memories, the regrets—they all mingled together, creating a complex web of emotions he couldn’t easily untangle.

Finally, Natasha broke the silence with a teasing jab. "So, if she’s alive? Are you going to apologize first or let her throw the first punch?"

Steve chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Knowing her, even with old age, she’d probably punch me first."

Natasha grinned, glad to see a bit of the tension lift. "Well, just remember—if you need a wingman, I’m here. But you’re on your own with the punching part."

× × × ×

The atmosphere was thick with tension as Alexander Pierce, the Secretary of HYDRA, stood before the Winter Soldier, his expression a mask of cold displeasure. Bucky stood at attention, his face impassive.

Pierce’s voice was low, laced with barely concealed anger. “I asked you for a report, Soldier. Why didn’t you eliminate the target?”

Bucky remained silent, his gaze unfocused, as though he were looking through Pierce rather than at him. This slight defiance, whether intentional or not, only served to infuriate Pierce further. He raised his hand, intending to deliver a harsh blow to snap the Winter Soldier back into obedience. 

But before his hand could connect, it was caught mid-air, gripped tightly by another—your hand. Your fingers squeezed Pierce’s wrist with a force that made him wince, the sound of bones grinding beneath your grip.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you said, your voice dangerously calm. The room seemed to grow colder as you stepped closer, your presence commanding the attention of everyone around you.

Pierce’s eyes flickered from stunned to anger as he looked down at the woman who dared to intervene. “You dare—”

“I dare,” you interrupted, your smirk widening as you tighten your grip, watching with satisfaction as Pierce’s face contorted in pain. “Remember who you’re dealing with, Pierce. The Winter Soldier is valuable, yes, but don’t forget who has the real power here.”

The room held its breath as Pierce glared at you, his anger simmering. His attempt to maintain control was slipping, and you could see it in his eyes—the fear, the uncertainty. But it wasn't enough. You wanted to remind him, and everyone else in the room, who actually had the power.

You pretended to release his wrist only to grab him by the throat, lifting him off the ground as if he weighed nothing. Pierce gasped, his hands instinctively reaching up to claw at your grip, but it was futile. You held him there, suspended in the air, your eyes cold as you watched the panic rise in his eyes.

Around you, HYDRA operatives tensed, their hands moving toward their weapons. The sound of guns being cocked filled the air, and your ears caught it immediately. Instead of flinching or backing down, a low, rumbling chuckle escaped your lips, starting deep in your chest. Your laugh began to rise. It was a sound that started soft, almost like a private joke shared with yourself, but it quickly grew louder, filling the room with a sinister, echoing resonance.

It wasn’t just a laugh; it was a declaration. A reminder of just how dangerous you were. The agents hesitated, their fingers hovering uncertainty over the triggers. They knew what that laugh meant. That you're a woman not to be trifled with—this was a predator, toying with her prey.

As your laughter crescendoed, it took on a twisted, almost gleeful quality, as though you were genuinely delighted by the absurdity of the moment.

“Guns? Really?” you said, your voice dripping with mockery. “Go ahead, pull the trigger. Let’s see who’s faster.”

There was a pause, a moment where time seemed to stand still as the agents exchanged nervous glances. None of them dared to act, not with the lethal reputation you had earned within HYDRA.

Just as the tension reached its peak, your hand moved in a blur. Before anyone could react, you drew a dagger from your side and hurled it with deadly precision. The blade found its mark, embedding itself deep into the skull of one of the agents who had been foolish enough to aim his gun at you. The agent crumpled to the ground, dead before he hit the floor.

The remaining operatives stared in shock, their fingers frozen on the triggers, the reality of the situation crashing down on them like a ton of bricks. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by your voice, now cold and taunting.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, your tone mocking as you glanced at the other agents. “I thought you were going to shoot me?”

No one moved. The fear in the room was heavy, each agent knowing that a single wrong move would mean their death. They were outmatched, outclassed, and they knew it.

You turned your attention back to Pierce, who was still struggling in your grip. His face had gone red, his eyes wide with fear as he realized the precariousness of his situation.

"You think you're in control here, Pierce?" you asked, your voice low and menacing. "You think you can order us around like one of your lackeys? Let me make this clear—I'm not just a weapon you can point and shoot. I'm the one who decides where the bullets land."

With a flick of your wrist, you threw him across the room, watching as he crashed into a table, sending papers and files scattering to the floor. Pierce groaned in pain, clutching his throat as he struggled to regain his breath and composure. But the fear in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Pierce’s expression darkened, but he knew when to back down. He rubbed his neck with a grimace. “You think you’re untouchable, don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, he's still actually talking?

“I don’t think, Pierce. I know.”

For a brief moment, your eyes locked, a silent battle of wills. But in the end, it was Pierce who looked away. He knew better than to push you further.

You turned your attention back to Bucky, your expression softening ever so slightly as you reached out and gently caressed his face. The touch was light, almost tender, and as you did so, a name slipped from your lips in a whisper, one that seemed to stir something deep within Bucky.

“Bucky…”

For a moment, Bucky’s eyes focused, the faintest glimmer of recognition flashing across his face. But it was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had appeared, and his expression returned to the blank slate that HYDRA had molded him into.

You let your hand fall away, a hint of sadness in your eyes before you masked it with your usual cold demeanor. You turned back to Pierce, your smirk returning. 

“Remember your place, Mr. Secretary. For someone using us as a tool to make ends meet, I expect a little more. . . respect.”

With that, you turned on your heel, motioning for Bucky to follow you. He did so without hesitation, leaving Pierce and the operatives standing in stunned silence.

You and Bucky reached the door, then you paused, turning back to Pierce with a final, icy smile. “And as for Rogers… I’ll deal with him personally.”

Pierce’s eyes narrowed, his anger barely contained, but he said nothing as you and the Winter Soldier disappeared through the door.

When the door closed behind you, Pierce’s anger boiled over, but he knew he had to tread carefully. You were not someone to be crossed lightly, and if he wanted to keep control of HYDRA’s greatest assets, he would need to play his cards right.

But the look in your eyes, the way you had protected the Winter Soldier—it left him with an uneasy feeling. There was more to you than met the eye, and Pierce couldn’t shake the feeling that you were a force that even HYDRA might not be able to contain.

× × × ×

The sound of his powerful thrusts filled the room, each one accompanied by a wet, sensual sound as your pussy eagerly welcomed him inside. With every thrust his grip on your hip tightens, his metallic hand will leave a bruise but you don’t care.

His other hand closed around your throat too roughly, pressing the hardened ridges of the larynx against the epiglottis. A spasm in his fingers was all the warning you received before they clamped down, forcing more pressure. 

“Yes, just like that.” you moaned wantonly, you whimpered as everything tightened, the sweet tension built from the deep rhythmic strokes. You were gasping and frantic, pumping your hips. Reaching between your legs, you rubbed your clit with the pads of your fingers, trying to hasten your climax.

“Not so tough now, huh?” The winter soldier growls, his voice filled with desire and urgency. His thrusts grew more intense, his voice becoming more primal. "You want it harder?" he asked, his voice dripping with seduction. 

You could only manage a desperate nod as the pleasure intensified. The wet, rhythmic sounds of your bodies colliding filled the room, mixing with your moans of pleasure.

Bucky's grip on your neck loosened, allowing a cold rush of air to fill your burning lungs. But there was no time to recover—before you could catch your breath, he swiftly flipped you over, his arm coiling around your waist as he hauled you up on your knees.

SMACK!

He slapped your ass so hard you had a hard time suppressing a shriek. Bucky's hand tangled in your hair once more, yanking your head back until it was level with his. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he hovered menacingly behind you.

"Don't you feel like a slut, in here with me, getting fucked, while those morons think you’re indestructible?” 

SMACK!

"Answer me!" he growls, smacking you more in between, his grip on your hair tightened, it's beginning to hurt your scalp. 

"Yes," you moaned, so turned on that you could have come at any moment.

"Yes what?” he says through his gritted teeth, smacking you harder that it echoes in the room. 

“Yes I feel like a slut.” you choked out with a smile on your lips. 

“Good. You're going to come all over this dick, saying my name, yes?” he said, slapping your clit with his cock. With your thighs spread wide, the tip of his cock presses your entrance. The smooth head slides between your folds and rubs against your clit, intensifying your arousal. 

“Yes.” You moan, your head arching back, and he slowly enters you, penetrating you inch by slow inch. 

You gasp as he goes deeper, filling you again with his thickness. It feels good, so unbelievably good, and you moan again, tightening your inner muscles around his shaft. He groans, closing his eyes, and you do it again, wanting more of the sensation.

He begins to rock back and forth, causing his shaft to move within you ever so slightly, sending waves of heat throughout your body. However, each movement also serves as a reminder of the earlier beating, and a pained moan escapes your throat as your sore buttocks rub against his hard thighs.

He devours you with his kiss, swallowing your whimpers, his mouth now consuming yours with unrestrained hunger.

His hips rocking harder, adding to the pressure building within your core, "You like that, don't you?" he growled.

"Mmmm." you could only moan in response, lost in the pleasure that consumed you. Your own fingers assaulting your clit trying to match his rhythm.

Yanking your hips to meet his powerful thrusts, Bucky battered your tender sex with that brutally thick column of rigid flesh, his gaze dark and possessive, his breath leaving him in primitive grunts every time he hit your cervix. A trembling moan left you, the friction of his drives stirring your never-sated need to be fucked senseless by him. 

Long strokes. Pounding, pile driving impacts. Your pussy was so wet there was hardly any friction in or out, just the brutal slapping as he jackhammered you pussy remorselessly. Not fucking. Mating. Breeding. 

His other hand moves down your body, his hand spreading your wetness through your stretched slit before pressing his fingers moving small circular motions to gripping your clit between his thumb and index finger.

“J-James—O-h-h, F-u-c-k” you muttered in a broken moan as you flew apart.

Your orgasm is so strong, you can’t even make a sound. For a few blissful seconds, you're completely swamped by pleasure, by ecstasy so intense that it’s almost agonizing. Your body shudders uncontrollably under his body, your muscles clamping down his cock tightly, while your hips gyrate as his cock continues to pound you. Your movements trigger his own release.

“I'm damn close—fuck, I'm coming.” The sensation of you milking his cock is indescribable, the pleasure sharp and electric. It zings through him, hurling him in to reach his peak. Groaning harshly, he grinds his pelvis against you, “Oh I'm coming.”

“Yes! Fill me up—give it to me inside.” 

Muscles rippled and bulged along his shoulders and quads as he leaned forward, grinding every millimeter of thickness and length into you. A rough, guttural growl rumbled through your bones. Jet after jet of hot, potent cum deluged your ravaged, desperately spasming walls.

“Ready for more?” he whispers in your ear, his cock barely softening within you. He kisses your earlobe, and the tender gesture is such a contrast to what he’d just done that you feel disoriented. That wasn't normal winter soldier behavior.

× × × ×

You sat straddling Bucky on the leather couch, your breathing still heavy from fucking three times in a row. You began to move away, Bucky’s hands, which had been resting on your hips, suddenly tightened their grip. 

You felt the change before you saw it—It was subtle at first, the flicker in his eyes, the way his breath hitched as his gaze became focused, sharp. But there was something else too, something far away in his stare, as if he were trying to grasp onto a memory just out of reach.

"The man at the bridge, who was he?" Bucky's voice was low, but it carried a weight that made you pause. 

You had seen these moments of clarity before, rare glimpses of the man he used to be before HYDRA twisted his mind. They never lasted long, a fleeting reminder of the person buried beneath the Winter Soldier’s conditioning. You knew what HYDRA expected of you—what Pierce demanded—but as you looked into Bucky’s eyes, your best friend from a time long past, so lost and vulnerable, you hesitated.

“You met him this week on another assignment.” you replied, trying to keep your voice detached.

“I knew him.” His voice was stronger this time, he was certain.

“Look, Pierce is gonna want us to push it tomorrow—” You shifted slightly, trying to pull away from him, but Bucky’s forced you down on his lap, keeping you in place.

“But I knew him.”

You sighed deeply, frustrated. Grabbing his face roughly, you forced him to look at you, your fingers digging into his skin. "Listen to me, whatever is going on in your head, I need you to put it aside. If Pierce finds out about this, he's going to put you through electroshock to reset you, and I can’t let that happen.”

Bucky’s eyes bore into yours, searching for something, anything, that made sense. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You released your grip on his face, your fingers trailing through his hair as you brushed his brown locks out of the way. "Old sentiments," you muttered, the words bitter on your tongue.

But even as you said it, you knew it was a lie, a half-truth.

It wasn’t just sentiment, though, was it? It was the guilt, the buried rage at everything HYDRA had turned you into. You hated Pierce, despised SHIELD, and the mere thought of Steve brought a twisted knot of anger and betrayal to your chest. But Bucky—Bucky didn’t deserve this. Not after everything he’d been through, not after being twisted into something unrecognizable by the same people who had destroyed your life.

You weren’t doing this because you were good. You weren’t a hero. You were still the same girl driven by anger and resentment toward the world. But Bucky, he was the only piece of your past that still mattered, the only thing left that was worth saving. 

And so, as you looked into his confused, lost eyes, you made a silent promise. You would free him from this nightmare, only because he was your friend. 

“Just trust me,” you whispered, your voice softer now. “In due time, you will get the answers you want to hear.”

Bucky’s eyes searched yours, as if trying to gauge the sincerity in your words. Slowly, he nodded, though the uncertainty still lingered in his gaze, “I trust you.”

The fragments of his past flickered like dying embers in the recesses of his mind. He couldn't fully grasp who he was before HYDRA, couldn't make sense of the flashes of memory that haunted him in the rare moments of clarity. But there was something about you—something that tugged at his very soul, making him feel connected in a way that defied explanation.

He was a weapon, a tool shaped and controlled by forces he barely understood, yet whenever he looked at you, something within him stirred. It wasn’t just the physical attraction—though that was undeniable—but something deeper, something that made him feel almost human again. His heart remembered you, even when his mind could not.

Why did he feel so drawn to you, so protective, so...fond? It didn’t make sense. He didn’t have memories of you, no context for these emotions, yet they were there, strong and insistent. He was the Winter Soldier—cold, detached, and efficient—but around you, those walls seemed to crack, letting in warmth he didn’t understand.

His hands trailed up the small of your back and he found himself leaning in, compelled by a force he couldn’t resist. His lips found yours, and the kiss that followed was as much a search for answers as it was an expression of the remnants of love he has for you. He felt the warmth of your skin, the softness of your lips, and momentarily, it all made sense.

× × × ×

The streets were slick with rain, the neon lights of the city reflected off the wet pavement as Steve, Natasha, and Sam moved through the shadows. The mission was simple—take down the HYDRA operatives before they could unleash chaos. But nothing about this night was going according to plan.

A sudden blur of movement caught Steve’s attention, and he spun around just in time to raise his shield, blocking a powerful kick aimed at his head. The impact reverberated through the vibranium, the sheer force behind the blow surprising him. Whoever this was, they were no ordinary agent.

His attacker wore black from head to toe, a tactical mask obscuring your face, a hood pulled low over your eyes. Steve couldn’t see your face, but he could tell from the fluidity of their movements that you were highly trained—possibly even on par with him.

Without giving him a moment’s rest, you launched into a series of rapid strikes. Steve’s body reacted on instinct, parrying and blocking with precision honed from years of combat. But the ferocity and speed of the attacks were relentless, forcing him back step by step.

The fight was a brutal dance of skill and power. You used every inch of the narrow alley to your advantage, bouncing off walls, using the slippery ground to slide under Steve’s defenses, and striking at vulnerable points with deadly accuracy. Steve swung his shield in a wide arc, aiming to knock his opponent off balance, but then you ducked under it effortlessly, coming up with a knee strike that connected solidly with his midsection.

Steve grunted, the air forced from his lungs as he staggered back, but he quickly recovered, slamming his shield forward to create some distance between you. You leaped back with cat-like agility, landing silently several feet away. For a brief moment, you paused, tilting your head as if assessing him, before darting forward again with even more speed.

“Who the hell are you?” Steve growled, his voice low and filled with frustration as he swung his shield to intercept the incoming attack.

You didn’t respond, merely twisting your body mid-air, narrowly avoiding the shield before delivering a roundhouse kick aimed at Steve’s head. He barely had time to duck, feeling the rush of air as the boot sailed over his head.

In response, Steve drove his shoulder into your midsection, attempting to drive you into the wall, but you twisted your body, using the momentum to flip over him and deliver a brutal elbow strike to the back of his head. Steve stumbled forward, momentarily disoriented, but he quickly spun around, his shield raised defensively.

You advanced again, this time producing a pair of combat knives from your belt. The glint of the blades under the streetlights was enough to make Steve’s grip on his shield tighten.

“Knives, really?” Steve muttered, more to himself than to his opponent. He had faced down armies with just his fists, but this fight felt different—more personal, more dangerous.

You didn’t waste time with a response, instead rushing forward with both blades aimed at his vital points. Steve deflected the first strike with his shield, twisting his body to avoid the second, but you were relentless. You pressed the attack, slashing and stabbing with surgical precision, each strike aimed to cripple or kill.

Steve retaliated with a powerful swing of his shield, the force behind it enough to send most opponents flying, but you anticipated the move. You ducked low, sweeping your legs out to knock Steve off his feet. Steve managed to stay upright, but the move forced him to lose his balance, and you took advantage, driving one of the knives toward his chest.

In a split-second reaction, Steve angled his shield to deflect the blade, but the impact sent vibrations up his arm, nearly causing him to drop it. You didn’t let up, following up with a swift knee strike to his ribs, the force of it knocking the wind out of him.

Breathing heavily, Steve tried to reassess the situation. This was no ordinary operative—this was someone who had been trained specifically to counter him. And you were good. Too good.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Steve growled, pushing forward with renewed determination. 

He swung his shield with all his might, aiming to knock you off balance, but you were ready. You caught the edge of the shield with both hands, the impact skidding you back several feet, your boots screeching against the wet pavement. With a grunt, you twirled in the air, using the momentum to hurl the shield back at Steve.

Steve barely had time to react, catching the shield just before it collided with his face. But the force behind it was immense, pushing him back a few steps.

Before he could press his advantage, you were on him again, this time using a combination of grappling techniques and martial arts to try and subdue him. You were quick, switching between jabs, hooks, and submission holds with fluid precision. At one point, you managed to lock Steve’s arm behind his back, twisting it at a painful angle as you tried to force him to the ground.

Steve gritted his teeth against the pain, refusing to go down. He planted his feet firmly and used his strength to break the hold, swinging his elbow back to catch the figure in the side. The blow connected, but you barely flinched, countering with a vicious headbutt that left Steve momentarily dazed.

You went for another knife strike, this time aiming for his throat. Steve caught your wrist mid-strike, twisting it with enough force to make you drop the knife. But instead of recoiling in pain, you used the momentum to flip Steve over your shoulder, slamming him into the ground with a force that left him gasping.

He struggled to get up, his vision swimming from the impact. You stood over him, a boot pressing down on his chest, pinning him in place. In a move born of desperation, Steve reached up, grabbing the edge of your mask and tearing it off.

Time seemed to slow as the mask came away, revealing the face beneath. Steve’s breath caught in his throat.

It was you, all along.

The world came to a stop as he stared up at you, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. You—alive, but different. Your eyes, once filled with warmth and love, were now cold and distant, filled with a darkness he had never seen before.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice was barely a whisper, shock and disbelief flooding his features.

For a split second, your cold facade cracked, a flash of recognition and pain crossing your features. But it was gone as quickly as it came, your expression hardening once more. You took advantage of Steve’s shock, delivering a swift punch to his jaw that sent him reeling.

Before Steve could fully recover, you turned and sprinted toward the nearest exit, moving with a speed that left Steve struggling to keep up. He scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding as he chased after you, but by the time he reached the door, you were already gone, disappearing into the night like a ghost.

Steve stood in the doorway, his heart heavy with the realization that the woman he had once loved was now his enemy. The Y/N he knew was gone, replaced by someone hardened by pain and anger.

× × × × 

Steve stood frozen in the doorway, trying to make sense of what had just happened. You're alive—and he let you disappear into the night, leaving him with more questions than answers. Before he could fully process what he had seen, a familiar voice crackled through his earpiece.

“Cap, we’ve got a situation here,” Tony’s voice was tense, though laced with his usual sarcasm. “I’ve got a guest who’s a little too enthusiastic for my taste. Could use some backup.”

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. “Tony, who is it?”

“Not sure, but she’s got one hell of a right hook and a serious attitude problem,” Tony replied, the sound of metal clashing and blasts firing in the background. “And oh, did I mention she can jump like the Hulk?”

Steve’s eyes widened. He had a sinking feeling he knew exactly who Tony was dealing with. Without wasting another second, he took off in the direction of the commotion, his heart pounding in his chest.

Tony, clad in his Iron Man suit, was locked in a fierce aerial battle with you, who was now maskless and fully visible. Your face was set in grim determination as you leapt into the air, your powerful legs propelling you high enough to meet Tony’s flight path. Each of your strikes was calculated, aimed at the joints and weaker points of the suit.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy there, Wonder Woman!” Tony said, dodging a particularly brutal punch that nearly dented his chest plate. “I’m not a piñata, you know!”

Your expression remained cold as you twisted in midair, avoiding a repulsor blast and landing a solid kick against Tony’s side, sending him spiraling briefly before he regained control. 

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that!” Tony called out as he righted himself, flying in a tight circle around you before firing off another series of repulsor blasts. You dodged most of them with ease, but one caught you in the shoulder, causing you to grimace slightly. You recovered quickly, though, using the momentum to propel your back into the air, your fist aimed directly at Tony’s faceplate.

Tony barely had time to dodge, the blow glancing off his helmet with enough force to crack the HUD display. 

“Okay, now you’re just being rude!” he said sarcastically, as he adjusted his flight path to put some distance between you.

You didn’t give him much room to breathe, though. With a powerful leap, you closed the gap between you, grabbing onto Tony’s arm and using your weight to pull him down. Both of you crashed into the ground with a thunderous impact, the pavement cracking beneath you. Tony groaned as he struggled to push you off, but your strength was overwhelming, even for the suit’s enhanced capabilities.

“Ever heard of personal space?” Tony grunted as he activated the suit’s thrusters, attempting to blast them both back into the air. You held on tightly, twisting his arm at an awkward angle that caused the servos in the suit to whine in protest.

“You talk too much,” You finally replied, your voice flat and cold as you released your grip on his arm and delivered a sharp kick to his midsection, sending him flying backward.

Tony recovered mid-flight, his repulsors flaring as he hovered a few feet off the ground, rubbing at the dent you'd left in his side. 

“Yeah, well, it’s part of my charm,” he shot back, firing off another barrage of missiles in your direction.

You dodged with an almost effortless grace, leaping into the air once more and landing on top of a nearby building. You crouched low, your eyes locked on Tony as you prepared for the next move.

Tony hovered in place, watching you closely. “Seriously, what’s your deal? We just met, and you’re already throwing me around like a rag doll.”

Your expression didn’t change as you suddenly launched yourself off the building, your fist aimed directly at Tony’s chest. This time, though, you didn’t hold back. The impact was tremendous, sending Tony crashing through a parked car and skidding across the pavement.

Groaning, Tony pushed himself up, his HUD flickering from the damage. “Okay, that’s it. Playtime’s over.”

He activated the suit’s full power, repulsors blazing as he rocketed back toward you. The two of you clashed mid-air, exchanging blows at a speed and intensity that would have shattered ordinary opponents. But through it all, Tony couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren't giving it your all. There was a calculated precision in your strikes, as if you were testing him rather than trying to finish him off.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of trading hits, Tony managed to grab hold of your wrists, locking them in place with the suit’s enhanced grip. He lifted you off the ground, his repulsors ready to fire point-blank, “End of the line, lady. Let’s talk.”

You didn’t resist. Instead, you looked up at him with an unreadable expression, your body suddenly going limp. 

“Fine,” you said, your voice eerily calm. “You win.”

Tony blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift. “Wait, seriously? That’s it?”

You simply nodded, allowing yourself to be restrained by the suit’s mechanisms. 

“Take me in,” you said, your voice devoid of emotion. “I’m not going to fight anymore.”

Tony frowned, his instincts telling him something wasn’t right, but he didn’t press the issue. “Alright, let’s get you somewhere safe and figure out what the hell is going on.”

As Tony started to descend, Steve finally arrived on the scene, his shield at the ready. He took in the sight of Tony holding you, your face calm despite the situation, and his heart sank.

Tony looked at Steve and couldn’t help but say, “Well, look who decided to show up. Don’t worry, I had everything under control—just took a brief break to contemplate my life choices while getting pummeled.”

Your lips twitched a small smile at his comment.

Steve caught his breath as he assessed the situation. “Better late than never, right?”

“Next time, maybe give me a heads-up when you’re gonna leave me to play the lone hero. Could’ve at least brought popcorn to watch the show.” Tony shook his head.

Steve stared at your face, his eyes taking in every detail, even rubbing his eyes to make sure this was real. Tony furrowed his brows at Steve and exchanged glances between the two of you.

“So,” Tony finally broke the silence, his tone shifting to something more serious, “are we bringing her in, or are we just gonna stand here and play the ‘who blinks first’?”

× × × ×

The soft hum of the Helicarrier's engines was the only sound as the team gathered around the large, circular table. A few faces were still unfamiliar with each other—Natasha, Clint, and Sam exchanged glances as they settled into their seats. Tony, leaning back casually, eyed Steve, who stood apart from the group, a heavy tension radiating from him. It was clear that something weighed heavily on the Captain’s mind, something that no one had dared to address yet.

In the center of the table, a holographic screen flickered to life, casting an eerie blue glow over the faces of the Avengers. Fury stood at the head of the table, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"Listen up," Fury began, his voice commanding everyone's attention. "We've got a new player on the board, and she’s every bit as dangerous as the Winter Soldier."

With a tap of his finger, Fury brought up a series of video feeds on the screen, all showing various skirmishes involving HYDRA forces. But the common thread through each of these battles was a single figure: you. 

The hologram shifted, showing footage of you in action, moving through a battlefield. Bullets ricocheted off you, seemingly ineffective as you advanced on your targets with single-minded precision. The final clip showed you taking down an entire squadron of soldiers without breaking a sweat, your movements efficient and deadly.

"Meet HYDRA's new secret weapon," Fury continued, his tone grim. "We don’t have a lot of intel on her, but what we do know isn’t good. She’s been operating under the radar, but make no mistake—she’s a force to be reckoned with. No hesitation, no mercy."

The profile flashed on the screen, sparse and incomplete:

Name: Unknown   Age: Unknown   Origin: Siberia  

The room was silent as the team absorbed the information. Natasha’s eyes narrowed as she studied the footage, while Clint leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, deep in thought. Tony looked intrigued, his mind already racing with calculations and possibilities.

“She looks like she’s trained well. This isn’t someone who just stumbled into HYDRA’s ranks. She’s had years of experience.” Natasha commented before shifting her gaze to Fury.

“Years of brainwashing, you mean,” Tony added, his tone filled with dry sarcasm. “Another weaponized human for us to deal with. Just what we needed.”

Clint leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied your image. "She doesn’t look like she’s been held against her will. If anything, she seems... committed.”

Fury nodded, his expression steely. “Our priority is figuring out her next move, because that,” he pointed at your live footage in the cell sitting calmly, “is not the type to surrender easily.”

Steve remained silent throughout the briefing, his jaw clenched tightly as he stared at the image of you on the screen. Fury’s words were sinking in, each one a painful reminder of how far you had fallen.

"We’ve already got her in a secure cell," Fury continued, his tone brokering no argument. "But I don’t think she’s going to stay quiet for long. Our best bet is to find out everything we can about her—where she’s been, what HYDRA’s done to her—and see if we can get ahead of this. We’re playing catch-up, and we can’t afford to stay behind for long.”

“How do you know if she’s going to cooperate?” Clint asked.

"We don’t," Fury admitted, his tone grim. "But that’s why we’re not taking any chances. She's locked down tighter than Fort Knox, and we're monitoring her every move.”

Fury’s gaze shifted to Steve, who had remained silent, staring intently at the image of you in the cell. The tension in the room was palpable as everyone waited to see if Steve would speak.

Finally, Fury broke the silence, addressing the room at large. "We don’t know what HYDRA’s endgame is here, but we do know they’ve put a lot of resources into this. We can’t underestimate her, and we can’t assume she’s alone. There’s more going on here, and we need to be prepared for anything.”

The team just nodded in unison.

Fury’s gaze swept across the team before he asked the question that was on everyone’s mind. "So, who wants the privilege of talking to her?"

The room fell silent as everyone considered the gravity of the situation. Natasha’s eyes narrowed slightly, her instincts telling her that this conversation would be more dangerous than any fight. Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the challenge, but before anyone could volunteer, Steve finally spoke up, his voice steady but laced with emotion.

"I’ll do it," Steve said, his gaze never leaving the screen.

Tony glanced at Steve, then back at the image on the screen, and with a smirk, he added, "Well, she made Cap make friends with the floor, so I’ll come with. Can’t let him have all the fun, right?”

Steve shot Tony a look, but there was a hint of gratitude in his eyes. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy, and having Tony there might just make it a bit more bearable.

× × × ×

The interrogation room was cold, the walls made of reinforced steel, with a single table and three chairs bolted to the floor. The whole room was lit up, leaving no shadows around the room. You sat in one of the chairs, your hands cuffed securely in front of you, though the cuffs seemed more like a formality than a real deterrent.

Steve and Tony stood outside the observation window, looking in at you. Steve’s expression was tense, his eyes fixed on you, while Tony had a thoughtful look on his face, his usual humor subdued.

"You ready for this?" Tony asked, his voice unusually serious as he glanced at Steve.

Steve nodded, but there was a storm of emotions churning beneath his calm exterior. "Let’s get it over with."

They stepped into the room, the door closing behind them with a heavy thud. You didn’t look up as they entered, your gaze fixed on the table in front of you, as if you were lost in thought. But as they took their seats across from you, you slowly lifted your eyes, a faint, unreadable smile playing on your lips.

"Captain," you said, your voice cool and calm. "Mr. Stark."

“Hello Unknown—”

"Y/N," Steve replied, his tone heavy with the weight of your shared history.

Tony’s eyebrows shot up slightly at Steve’s use of your name, but he didn’t comment. Instead, his eyes flicked over to Steve with a look of mild surprise.

There was a moment of silence as the three of you sized each other up, the tension in the room palpable. Finally, Tony broke the silence, leaning back in his chair with a casual air that didn’t quite match the situation.

"So, Y/N," Tony began, quoting your name with his fingers, his tone conversational, almost friendly. "You know, I’m usually the one asking the questions, but let’s mix it up a bit. Why don’t you tell us why you decided to let us catch you?"

You raised an eyebrow at Tony’s question, your smile widening just a fraction. "Did I let you catch me? Or did you just get lucky?"

Tony smirked, twirling a fork he had slipped from the dining area between his fingers. "Oh, I don’t believe in luck. You’re too good to get caught by accident. So, what’s the plan? What’s HYDRA up to this time?"

"Wouldn’t you like to know?” You tilted your head slightly, considering your response. 

Steve’s jaw clenched at your evasiveness, but he kept his voice steady as he spoke. "Y/N, we need to know what HYDRA’s planning. You can stop this. Whatever they’ve done to you, we can help."

Tony’s eyes shifted between you and Steve, the curiosity deepening. He still didn’t say anything about Steve using your name, but it was clear he had taken note of it.

You turned your gaze to Steve, staring daggers into him. "Help? Like you helped Bucky?" The question was pointed, sharp enough to draw blood.

Steve flinched, but he didn’t back down. “We’re trying to save you.”

“Save me?” You let out a small, bitter laugh. “You can’t even save yourselves.”

Tony cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him. “Speaking of saving, I’ve been wondering about something.” He held up the fork, “Let’s try a little experiment.”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in your eyes. "A fork? How quaint."

Tony grinned, twirling the fork between his fingers. "Well, I figured we’d see just how indestructible you really are."

Before Steve could protest, Tony reached across the table and pressed the fork against your forearm, applying pressure as if to test your skin. You didn’t flinch or move, simply watching him with an amused expression.

The fork bent under the pressure, the metal warping against your skin as if it were nothing more than a cheap plastic utensil. Tony released it, letting the mangled fork drop to the table with a clatter.

"Well, that’s definitely not normal.” Tony glanced at the bent fork, then back at you, his surprise quickly masked by his usual bravado. 

"Satisfied?” You looked down at the fork, then back up at Tony, your eyebrows raised in a silent, almost mocking challenge. 

Tony leaned back in his chair, clearly impressed, though he tried to hide it. "Well, I’ve seen weirder, but that’s up there."

Steve, who had been watching the exchange with frustration, finally spoke up. "Y/N, you don’t have to do this. Whatever HYDRA’s done to you, whatever they’ve made you believe, it doesn’t have to be this way."

You leaned forward slightly, your expression hardening. "Steve, you’re still so naive. This world doesn’t care about heroes or villains. It’s about power, control. And HYDRA... they understand that better than anyone."

Tony frowned, leaning forward as well. "So what’s your endgame? What do you get out of all this?"

You looked between the two of them, your smile fading as you considered the question. "Endgame? You really think it’s that simple? I’m just a piece on the board, Stark. The difference is, I know it."

Tony shook his head with a smirk. "You know, it’s a real shame you’re a total piece of shit because we would have made great friends. No offense, Cap." Tony lightly patted Steve on the shoulder.

You chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, trust me, Stark, it wouldn’t have worked out. I don’t play well with others."

“Yeah, I'm getting that vibe,” Tony chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. “But let’s get back to you, I will ask again and you answer. What’s your deal? Why’d you let us catch you? Was it my charm? Steve’s good looks? Or were you just bored of winning?"

You leaned back in your chair, considering his words. "Let’s just say I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. You know, see if the Avengers are really as impressive as they say."

Tony leaned in, his grin widening. "And? What’s the verdict?" 

You shrugged, your tone nonchalant. "You’re not bad. But I was expecting more... fireworks."

"Fireworks, huh?" Tony glanced at Steve with a smirk. "See, Cap? She’s got a sense of humor. Maybe we can work something out. Maybe you and I can grab a drink later, talk about how we both have a thing for breaking stuff.”

You shrugged, your expression indifferent. “Maybe in another life, Stark. But this one? Not a chance.”

“You’re more than just a piece on the board, Y/N. You always have been.” Steve’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his voice gentle but firm.

For the first time since the interrogation began, you seemed to hesitate, something flickering in your eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the cold, detached mask you had worn since they had captured you.

"Believe what you want, Steve," you said quietly, leaning back in your chair. "But that doesn’t change anything."

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, this is getting us nowhere. We’ll be back, Y/N. And next time, maybe you’ll be in a more talkative mood."

You didn’t respond, simply watching as Tony and Steve stood up, the door to the interrogation room sliding open with a soft hiss. A small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Just as they reached the door, you spoke up, your voice smooth and casual, but with an undercurrent of something darker.

“You might want to keep your friends close,” you murmured, your words barely louder than a whisper but sharp enough to cut through the air, “and your enemies... even closer. Not everyone at the top plays the game fairly.”

Steve paused, his hand on the door, glancing back at you. 

Tony turned slightly, “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tony asked, frowning.

You just shrugged, your smile widening as if you were in on a joke they hadn’t figured out yet. “Just a piece of friendly advice. Sometimes the rot starts from within, and by the time you notice, it’s already spread too deep. But hey, what do I know?”

Steve exchanged a quick glance with Tony, the unspoken concern evident between them. But they knew better than to press you further—this was exactly the kind of mind game HYDRA would want you to play. 

“Come on, let’s go,” Steve said, his voice tight as he opened the door.

Without another word, Steve turned and exited the room, Tony following close behind.

As the door shut behind them, you could still hear Tony muttering to Steve, “You think she’s just messing with us, or should we actually be worried?”

Steve’s silence was telling—whatever you meant, it had left him unsettled, and the cryptic warning echoed in his mind, feeding a growing sense of unease.

× × × × 

Flashback: Brooklyn, 1941

The night air was crisp, the sky above a sprawling canvas of twinkling stars that seemed to stretch on forever. You and Steve lay side by side on a worn-out blanket, nestled together on the rooftop of your apartment in Brooklyn. The city’s usual noise felt distant, like a faint echo, leaving only the serene hush of the night and the rhythmic beating of your hearts.

Steve’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he gazed up at the stars. “You ever think about what’s out there?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “What does it all mean?”

You turned your head to look at him, your face illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. “Sometimes,” you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. “But mostly, I think about what’s right here. Right now.”

“Well, if you’re not thinking about aliens or flying cars, I guess you’ve got your priorities straight.” Steve chuckled, the sound low and warm, and you felt it reverberate through the quiet night. 

You nudged him playfully with your shoulder. “And what about you, Rogers? Are you spending all your time up here daydreaming about little green men?”

Steve grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Maybe,” he teased. “Or maybe I’m just trying to figure out how I ended up here with the prettiest girl in Brooklyn.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest at his words. “Flattery will get you everywhere, soldier.”

“I’m counting on it,” Steve said with a wink, and you both laughed softly, the sound mingling with the rustling of the breeze.

After a moment, the laughter faded, replaced by a comfortable silence. Steve turned onto his side so he could face you fully, his expression softening as he reached out to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering as he tucked it behind your ear.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice suddenly more serious. “I know I’m not the strongest or the fastest... and I know I don’t have much to offer, but... I want you to know something.”

You squeezed his hand gently, encouraging him to continue. “What is it, Steve?”

He took a deep breath, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles as he spoke. “I care about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And I promise you, no matter what happens... I’ll protect you. I’ll stand by you. I’ll take care of you, always.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest as you looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his sincerity.

“Steve,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “You don’t have to be anything more than who you are. That’s more than enough for me.”

Steve smiled, a mixture of relief and affection in his eyes. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you replied, squeezing his hand again. “But just so you know, I’m pretty good at taking care of myself too. So maybe we can take care of each other?”

Steve’s smile widened, and he nodded. “Deal.”

With a playful grin, you held up your pinky finger. “Pinky promise?”

Steve raised an eyebrow, amused. “Pinky promise? Are we twelve?”

You smirked, undeterred. “Just humor me, Rogers.”

Steve chuckled and linked his pinky with yours. “Alright, pinky promise.”

You both shook on it, the moment feeling almost sacred in its simplicity. When your hands released, you shifted closer, resting your head on Steve’s chest as his arm wrapped securely around you. The warmth of his embrace made you feel safe, as if nothing in the world could touch you as long as you were together.

“You know,” Steve said after a few moments of comfortable silence, “I’m pretty sure pinky promises are unbreakable.”

You grinned, your eyes still fixed on the stars above. “That’s the idea.”

Steve pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his voice barely more than a breath. “I’ll never break it. I promise.”

For a while, neither of you spoke, the only sound was the soft rustling of the night breeze and the steady beat of Steve’s heart beneath your ear. The world below faded into nothingness, leaving just the two of you under the vast expanse of the starry sky, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s presence.

In that moment, everything felt right. The future, with all its uncertainties, seemed far away. All that mattered was the here and now, and the love you shared under the Brooklyn sky.

Present Day

Steve stood alone in the observation room, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. His thoughts were consumed by the memory you shared together, of the promises he had made and the promises he had failed to keep. 

With a heavy sigh, he reached into the pocket of his uniform and pulled out a small, worn photograph. The edges were frayed from years of handling, and the image itself had started to fade, but it was still clear enough to see your smiling face. It was a picture taken long ago, back when things were simpler, back when the world hadn’t yet taken its toll on either of you.

In the photograph, you were laughing, your eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that had always made his heart skip a beat. You were leaning into him, and he had his arm around your shoulders, both of you looking so carefree, so happy. It was a moment frozen in time, a snapshot of a life that felt like it belonged to someone else now.

Steve’s thumb brushed over the image of your face, and he felt a lump rise in his throat. This photo had been his lifeline during the war, and later, in the years after he was thawed out, it had been his constant reminder of what he had lost.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he stared at the picture. He couldn’t reconcile the person in this photograph with the one he had fought against. It was like looking at two different people—one filled with love and warmth, and the other filled with anger and pain.

He clenched his jaw, trying to keep himself from breaking down. He couldn’t afford to lose control, not now, not when everything was on the line. But the pain was too much, the guilt too overwhelming. He had kept this photo with him through everything, as a reminder of what he was fighting for, of the life he wanted to get back to. But now, it only served as a cruel reminder of what he had failed to protect.

Steve sank into a nearby chair, his head bowed as he continued to stare at the photograph. The tears he had tried to hold back slipped down his cheeks, and he didn’t bother to wipe them away. All he could do was sit there, lost in his grief, mourning the girl he had loved and the girl he had lost, even though you were still alive.

The photograph trembled in his hands as he struggled to hold onto it, to hold onto the memory of who you had been. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the image of what you had become. It haunted him, tearing at his heart, filling him with a despair so deep he wasn’t sure he could ever claw his way out.

× × × × 

0145 HRS

Steve walked back into the cell, the harsh fluorescent lights now turned on, casting cold, unyielding shadows on the walls. You were exactly where he and Tony had left you, your posture calm, almost unnervingly so. Your cuffed wrist rested on the table, fingers lightly drumming a rhythm that matched the distant hum of the Helicarrier’s engines.

Steve sat across from you, the silence between you stretching out like a chasm. The harsh fluorescent lights above cast unforgiving shadows on your face, but your expression remained indifferent, almost bored. You leaned back in the metal chair and watched Steve with a look that could only be described as disdainful amusement.

“So,” you drawled, breaking the silence with a voice dripping in mockery, “The great Captain America finally graces me with his presence. I must say, I’m flattered. Though, I’m starting to think you only come around when your self-righteousness needs a little top-up.”

Steve’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. He simply stared at you, his blue eyes searching for something—anything—familiar in your expression. But the person he had known, the person he had loved, was buried deep beneath the venom you now spewed.

“You’ve changed,” Steve said quietly.

You laughed, a cold, bitter sound that echoed in the small room. “Changed? Oh, you have no idea, Rogers. But then again, you were never very good at noticing the little details, were you? Too busy playing the hero, too busy saving the world to see the knife twisting in my back. Or was it your shield?”

“Y/N…” Steve began, his tone pleading, but you cut him off with a sharp, derisive laugh.

“Save it,” you snapped, your eyes narrowing with malice. “You’re not here to save me, Steve. You’re here to soothe your guilty conscience. But don’t worry, I’ll make this easy for you—there’s nothing left to save. I’m not your little damsel in distress, waiting for her knight in shining spandex to swoop in and make everything better.”

Steve flinched at your words, the pain in his chest growing sharper with every vile sentence that left your lips. "I never saw you as someone who needed saving," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You were always strong, Y/N. You didn’t need me to be a hero for you."

"Spare me the heartfelt bullshit, Steve," you sneered, leaning forward in your chair, your eyes blazing with animosity. "You wanted to be the hero because it made you feel good, made you feel important. But where were you when I needed you? Off playing soldier, marching to the beat of your outdated ideals while I was left to rot in the dirt."

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t give him the chance. You leaned back, your gaze cold and calculating, a twisted smile curling on your lips.

"You know," you continued, your tone almost conversational, "there’s something deeply satisfying about watching someone like you squirm. All that virtue, all that righteousness—it’s like watching a statue crumble. Beautiful, in a way. Don’t you think?"

Steve swallowed hard, his heart breaking as he listened to you tear into him with every word. But he didn’t waver. He couldn’t. "Y/N, whatever HYDRA did to you, we can fix it. We can help you."

"Help?" you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "The only thing you can do for me now is get out of my way. Or better yet, go crawl back into whatever hole you came out of and stay there. You’ve done enough damage as it is."

"HYDRA twisted you, made you into something you’re not," Steve insisted, his voice growing firmer. "This isn’t who you are."

Suddenly, your eyes flashed with a fierce intensity as you leaned forward, your voice rising, "You think you know me? You think you understand what I’ve been through !? What you put me through!?" Your hands clenched into fists as you stood up and with a surge of strength, the metal cuffs binding your wrists snapped in half, the sound echoing through the cell.

Steve instinctively went on the defensive, his hand hovering over the duress button. The sudden shift in his posture—the instinct to guard himself against you—didn’t go unnoticed.

For a moment, the room was filled with a tense silence, your breaths heavy, your eyes locked on Steve. Then, slowly, a dark, humorless laugh bubbled up from your throat, filling the space between you.

"See?" you said, your voice laced with bitterness and scorn. "You’re no different from the rest of them. The moment I show you my true strength, you recoil like I’m some kind of beast. Because that’s all you see, isn’t it? A serum-made monster.”

You plopped yourself back into the chair, pulling the metal cuffs off of your wrist like it was a piece of paper and tossed them on the table with a clatter.  

Steve’s eyes widened, shocked when you mentioned serum. "Y/N, don’t do this. You don’t have to be this person."

You stared at him for a long moment, your expression hardening. “You’re right,” you said, nodding, “I don’t have to be this person. But I choose to be. Because this world doesn’t deserve anything better.”

Steve’s heart sank as he realized just how far you had fallen, how deep the hatred and anger ran in your veins. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Sorry?” you echoed, your tone mocking. “Sorry doesn’t fix anything, Steve. Sorry doesn’t undo the years of pain, the betrayal, the lies. Sorry is just a word, a meaningless sound that people like you throw around to make themselves feel better.”

Steve stood up slowly, his movements heavy with the weight of your words. “I promised I’d always protect you,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not giving up on that promise.”

You rolled your eyes, a look of pure contempt on your face. “How noble. But I’m not the girl you promised to protect, Steve. She’s dead. And the person sitting in front of you doesn’t need your protection.”

Steve sat there, unable to move, as the weight of your words settled heavily on his shoulders. He had lost you, not just to HYDRA, but to the darkness that had taken root in your heart—a darkness that he had played a part in fostering.

“What do you want then?”

Your smile turned cold again, more sinister than before. "I want to watch this world burn. I want to see the so-called heroes fall, one by one. Starting with you."

With a heavy heart, Steve got up, seeing as there was no getting through to you. Steve’s expression hardened slightly, and as he turned to leave, he paused at the door, his hand resting on the cold metal handle. 

Without looking back, he spoke, his voice steady, “A serum, huh? Thanks for the information.” with that the door closed behind Steve with a final, echoing thud.

The smile that had been twisted in mockery only moments before now faltered, the edges softening into something more conflicted.

You had let it slip. 

You had revealed more than you intended—an error that was unlike you, and that fact alone gnawed at the edges of your mind. You had given Steve a piece of the puzzle, and that meant the game had changed.

Your lips curled back into a smirk, but it lacked the malice it once had. If Steve wanted to play the hero, to dig into the truth of what had happened to you, then let him try. Let him chase the shadows and secrets you had buried. But even as you tried to convince yourself that you still held the upper hand, the nagging doubt remained and it won't be leaving your head soon.

[camzeecorner]

𝙲𝙷𝚁𝙸𝚂 𝚂𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙾𝙻𝙾 the make up

chris sat in his room for ongoing hours, laying down with his head spinning. the thoughts swarmed his mind and it frustrated him. he can’t believe he thought for one second he’d made a real friend. it angered him how he let it bother him so much, he should’ve been used to the feeling by now.

but there was something different about you, something he couldn’t explain. no matter how hard he tried to erase you from his head you always seemed to come back, it was like you were he personal drug.

he was so deep into thought he had completely ignored the continuous knocking at his door, when he finally looked up he was met with an unbothered look from his brother, matt.

“someone is at the door, i think it’s your girlfriend.” chris frowned at his words. girlfriend. it was strange to ever think he’d get there. with a slight pout and mumble chris crawled out of his bed with a huff. as he stood on his feet he hissed at the cold contact with the wooden floor.

as chris slumped his body down the stairs taking longer than necessary he could see your body turned away. he watched as you paced back and forth making his heart warm. you must’ve been worried for him, that made him feel happy.

with a soft smile on your face you watched as he approached you. he looked terrible. his eyes were puffy and he had dark circles. “hi chris.” your voice echoed. the silence was thick and uncomfortable. he couldn’t help but make no sound.

he was lost for words. he wasn’t sure if he should invite you in or not. with a small tug at his mouth he waved. “hey.” he mumbled. his voice was deep and horse, maybe he was sleeping.

“can i come in? so we can talk.” you whispered. he wanted to say yes, but he knew he shouldn’t. he stood silent avoiding your eyes, he knew what was going to happen. you’d comfort him tell him it’s okay, but he couldn’t bear the fact that you lied.

with a silent nod chris stepped to the side allowing you to enter his home. he watched as you smiled softly at him before walking into the cold home. he watched as you walked up his stairs heading towards his room. he let out a deep sigh as he hesitantly followed you.

as you both reached his room he sat on his bed softly allowing himself to sink into the soft unmade bed. “chris.. i just want to say i’m so sorry..” he heard. he blinked up at you through his eyelashes trying to process the moment. with another silent nod he kept his vision away from you.

“Can you forgive me... please? I know I lied... and I’m sorry,” you finished, your voice trembling slightly as the weight of your words hung in the air between you. You could feel your heart racing, each beat echoing the fear of rejection that clawed at your insides. The room felt heavy with tension, the silence almost suffocating, as you searched his eyes for a glimmer of understanding, a sign that they might still care.

the memories of your mistake flashed through your mind, each one a painful reminder of the trust you had shattered. You could see the hurt in his expression, a mix of confusion and disappointment that pierced your heart like a dagger. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, as you recalled the moments that led to this confrontation—the choices you made, the lies you told, and the reasons behind them.

“I never meant to hurt you,” you continued, your voice softer now, laced with sincerity. “I was scared... scared of losing you, and I thought that hiding the truth would protect us. But now, I realize that it only drove us further apart.” You felt a tear escape, trailing down your cheek, a tangible representation of the remorse that filled you. “Please, I want to make things right. I’ll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust.”

Chris took in your words, considering a second chance. The air between you felt charged, heavy with unspoken emotions and the weight of your past mistakes. With a soft sigh, he gently grabbed your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours in a way that felt both comforting and reassuring. His grip was firm, yet tender, as if he was anchoring himself to the moment, afraid that the slightest slip could send everything crashing down again.

“Promise to stay by my side,” he said, his voice shallow and soft, each word laced with vulnerability. You could see the flicker of hope in his eyes, mingling with the remnants of hurt and uncertainty. In that moment, you understood the magnitude of what he was asking—not just for your presence, but for your unwavering support and commitment to rebuild the trust that had been lost.

You felt a surge of emotion swell within you, a mixture of relief and determination. This was your chance to prove that you could be the person he needed, the person who would stand by him through the storms of life. You nodded, your heart racing, and squeezed his hand gently in return, a silent promise that you were ready to fight for him.

special au tags - @maliaforstvrns @whore4mattsturniolo @thecrawlys @mattslolita @eeyoresturnz @emely9274 @cass-sturn @sturnsfavxo @st4rsturns @delilahsturniolo @oopsiedaisydeer @ikyoudreamofme @exactlygloriouscycle

reply to this post to be added to this AU’s tag list! - regular tag list too!!

this is incredibly short i’m sorry, but i needed to post something

[claramelooo]

WOVEN FATES (18/20)

So.... Are you guys ready for it??? Haha 😆

Remember that nothing is black and white! Feelings are complexes and and they don't always need a justification to be felt. okay?

And yes... our series is ending, so please, enjoy it <3

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Warnings: magic torture, attempt energy drain, fighting and angst. Proceed with caution.

Pairing: AgathaRio x Fem Reader

Summary: After finding Wanda's whereabouts, the women fight and Lady Death decides to appear.

Love

The room seemed smaller each day. The walls, once familiar, were now invisible bars keeping you there, isolated, lost in endless, spiraling thoughts.

On the first day, your mind was restless. Wanda’s words hammered in your head, an infinite cycle of uncertainty and confusion. What was true? What was a lie?

You felt anger.

Not just toward them, but toward yourself for not being able to understand, for not knowing what to believe.

The echo of Wanda’s voice still vibrated in your mind. Every word she spoke was an open wound, bleeding doubt into you.

"They made you their little whore."

No, that didn’t make sense. It couldn’t. You knew them. You knew their touch, their heated gazes, the way they said your name.

It couldn’t be false.

But… what if it was?

You got up from the bed, pacing around the room like a caged animal. The cold floor beneath your bare feet was the only point of reality you had in that moment. You tried the doorknob, but it didn’t budge. Your heart pounded with a mix of desperation and irritation.

You knocked on the door, called for Wanda, demanded answers. But your voice echoed emptily in the room, unanswered.

The silence was the worst part.

Over time, your anger began to dissolve into something more dangerous. Something sticky, dense—madness turning into a poison that seeped through your mind.

"What if it’s true?"

Your chest tightened.

You wanted to hate Wanda. For planting those thoughts in your head. Believing that your mommies were the villains of this story was painful, but it seemed… obvious.

And yet, every time you closed your eyes, all you saw was Agatha adjusting the collar of your blouse, Rio patting your bottom to lull you to sleep.

If it was a lie, it was the best lie you’d ever lived.

Night came, and the room was dark, except for the faint glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. You curled up in bed, hugging your knees, feeling the cold creep into your skin.

You missed them.

And that hurt more than any doubt.

On the second day, anger turned into doubt.

"What if they’re doing all this to protect me?"

The question repeated itself, over and over, an insistent echo inside your chest. You tried to push it away, to throw it aside, but it always came back, crawling through the corners of your mind, taking up space among your already chaotic thoughts.

You wanted to hate them. Wanted to feel only betrayal. Wanted to cling to the simplest version of the story—the one where none of this happened. Where you were still in their mansion in Pacific Palisades, in their garden, in their kitchen, in their bed.

Disappointment dragged you down into the mattress, your stomach twisting with nervous nausea. You just wanted to forget. Forget them. But you couldn’t. Because even in disappointment, you still thought of them.

Still missed them.

The emptiness was a constant reminder. It was in your empty hands, once always intertwined with theirs. In your lips, which no longer knew who to call for. In your chest, which felt too small to contain the longing.

You forced yourself to eat some of the food Wanda had left in the room, but everything tasted bland. The food sat heavy in your stomach, as if your body rejected it. As if their absence had drained not only your will but even your most basic needs.

So, you tried to distract yourself.

Wandering the room, you touched objects, searching for something—anything—that could bring comfort. Your high school photos were still there.

And you smiled, remembering how horrible it was to wear braces, how weird you looked. Your trophies and first-place certificates from competitions and tournaments.

But none of it was enough. No happy memory could replace their warmth.

It wasn’t until nightfall, when the room was once again swallowed by darkness, that you realized what was really happening.

You weren’t just confused.

You were lost without them.

On the third day, you could no longer think.

Your body ached as if something was breaking inside you. Your breathing was weak, your lips chapped, and your skin, both hot and cold, burned like embers.

Something inside you was shattering.

It wasn’t just longing.

It was a deep desperation, an expanding void sucking everything around it. You trembled, an unbearable cold consuming you as your mind fixated on a single thought, a single obsession.

Them.

Their scent, the sound of their voices, the warmth of their touch.

Them.

You no longer knew where you ended and they began. No longer knew who you were without them. And deep down, you started to wonder if you even wanted to know.

Your cracked lips parted weakly, your voice nothing more than a whisper.

"Mommies..."

The plea escaped before you could stop it, almost unconscious. A hopeless call, floating in the empty air.

Then, the door opened.

Wanda rushed in, her gaze scanning the room urgently, her expression carrying the weight of someone who had anticipated trouble. But she wasn’t prepared for what she found.

The tray of food she had left untouched. The scent of sweat and fever in the air.

And you.

Curled up in bed, your eyes open yet unfocused, your breath shallow. Your body looked fragile, thinner, exhausted. You trembled, even beneath the covers. Wanda quickly approached, sitting beside you, her brows furrowed.

"You need to eat," she said, trying to keep patience in her voice.

But as she leaned in closer, as she really looked at you…

Her heart stopped.

She touched your forehead and felt the burning heat of fever. Your pupils were dilated, your lips trembled, and even in your delirium, your mouth kept moving, murmuring something faintly.

Wanda leaned in, trying to understand.

"Mama... mommy..."

That was all you could say.

A shiver ran down Wanda’s spine.

"Hey, look at me," she tried, pressing your cheek between her fingers, but you didn’t even react to her touch.

Your gaze wandered, lost, as if you were somewhere else.

"Wanda..." your voice came out weak, barely a breath. "Will they come back for me?"

The question hit her like a punch.

Wanda clenched her jaw.

"They’re not good for you," she said firmly, almost irritated.

Your eyes welled up, your chest tightening as if those words had truly hurt you. You curled up deeper into the sheets, your fingers clenching into trembling fists.

"But… I don’t know how to exist without them. I can’t—" The confession was a pained whisper.

Wanda remained silent.

She shut her eyes, analyzing you.

Something in the air, something in the very structure of your existence felt off to her.

She pressed two fingers against your wrist. Your pulse was erratic, weak, as if the very thread of your life was unraveling.

Panic began to creep in.

"It’s not possible…" she murmured to herself, her eyes widening in realization.

Her fingers trailed to your chest, where your heart beat faintly, shakily.

Bound.

They had bound your heart.

This wasn’t just any spell.

It was the Erebus Bond.

Wanda held her breath.

An ancient, forbidden spell. An unbreakable tie that intertwined someone’s essence with another’s.

And then, she saw it.

You, pale, fragile, calling for them.

Like before.

Panic flared inside Wanda.

They had done the impossible.

And now… you were paying the price.

[...]

The night in WestView was cold and silent—the kind of silence that precedes a storm.

And the storm came.

The front door exploded inward with a deafening crash, shards of wood flying through the air. Rio entered first, her presence radiating pure violence, her eyes burning with a predatory glow. Her hand still carried the trail of destructive magic she had used to clear the way.

Behind her, Agatha walked in with eerie calm, her heels striking the floor in a rhythmic cadence over the wreckage.

The house smelled of beer, sweat, and the past. A place that was never a home.

Never for you.

A scream echoed from the kitchen. Rushed footsteps. A figure emerged in the hallway.

Your father.

The years had given him wrinkles, but they had not erased the brutality in his eyes. The same brutality you knew. The same that shaped you.

"Who the hell are you?!" he growled, moving toward the dresser near the TV.

Rio tilted her head, a twisted smile on her lips.

"Oh. He grabbed a gun," she murmured to Agatha, almost amused.

The click of the shotgun echoed through the room, his hands steady on the grip, the barrel aimed directly at the two women.

"I don’t know who you are, but I suggest you get off my property before I—"

Before he could finish, Rio snapped her fingers.

The gun was ripped from his hands by an invisible force and crushed mid-air as if it were made of paper.

Your father barely had time to react before Rio flung him backward with a single gesture. He flew across the room like a ragdoll, colliding against the wall, knocking down frames and shelves as he crashed to the floor.

One of your brothers appeared at the top of the stairs, alarmed by the noise.

"What the fuck is—?!"

Agatha lazily raised a hand, and he was silenced in an instant. His feet lifted off the ground, his body arching into an impossible position, as if invisible hands were twisting him from the inside out.

"Where is she?" Agatha asked, her voice low, almost a whisper. But laced with steel.

Your father coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he tried to crawl away.

Rio kicked him hard in the chest, pinning him to the floor.

He gasped, spitting more blood. "I... I don’t know what—"

Rio crouched, her fingers dripping with green energy as they grazed his skin.

He screamed.

"Lying," she murmured, tilting her head like a predator analyzing its prey.

Another brother appeared at the doorway, wielding a knife. But before he could take a single step, Agatha closed her hand in the air.

He fell to his knees, eyes wide, his skin beginning to darken.

"Let’s try again," Agatha said, crouching beside your father, her eyes glowing with something cold and cruel. "Where is she?"

Your father coughed again, trying to laugh. "I don’t know who you’re talking about. But she sure as hell isn’t here…"

Agatha sighed, standing up slowly.

She looked at Rio.

"What a shame for you."

Rio smiled.

The house was still trembling with the remnants of magic when Rio finally released your father, letting him collapse onto the floor like a broken doll. He was still breathing—barely.

The green witch snapped her fingers, then your father and brothers were send to another place—to hell, maybe, to pay for everything they did to you.

Agatha took a few steps back, her eyes scanning the room, her brow furrowing in confusion. Something was wrong. Something didn’t fit.

"She was supposed to be here," she murmured.

Rio wiped her hands on her coat, still riding the adrenaline of violence, but Agatha’s tone made her pause.

"What is it?"

"I felt it. You did too. She was here. I could hear…" The witch bit her lip, her eyes closing for a moment. "Her heart… was here."

Rio frowned. Now that Agatha mentioned it…

She had felt it too.

A call, an echo of pain and despair. As if your presence was imprinted on the walls, in the shadows, in the heavy air of the house.

"But that makes no sense," Rio growled. "If she’s not here, how can we feel her so strongly?"

And then the answer came.

Sudden.

Cold.

Agatha gasped, her eyes widening as the truth revealed itself.

Wanda.

Wanda was manipulating their emotions.

Creating a false bond.

"That bitch…" Agatha murmured, her voice dripping with hatred. She looked at Rio, and for the first time that night, there was something in her eyes beyond cruelty.

Panic.

They were wasting time.

Your body was falling apart without them.

"We have to go. Now," Rio declared, already spinning on her heels, fists clenched.

The two exchanged a look.

There was no time to lose.

If they took any longer, you wouldn’t be alive for them to find you.

The streets were swallowed in an unsettling silence. The moon cast distorted shadows through the alleys, and every step Agatha and Rio took echoed through the empty city.

They were desperate, frustrated, and every second lost was a knife plunged deeper into their chests.

Then, Agatha saw you.

The world around her stopped.

You walked down the sidewalk with a woman at your side. The same shape of the eyes, the same curve of the smile.

Your mother.

Your eyes shone as you looked at her, and a soft smile adorned your lips. A smile Agatha knew well. A smile that belonged to her.

You looked… complete.

Her blood boiled.

She didn’t think. She didn’t rationalize. She just acted.

"You bitch!" Her voice cut through the night like a blade, filled with fury and something even more dangerous—jealousy.

The hatred was immediate, intense. A feeling that burned through every inch of her skin. Her heart roared in her chest, her steps turned rapid, wild, as she charged toward the woman at your side.

The same woman who abandoned you and forgot you, while all she did was love you.

How dare you?

How dare she be there, at your side, smiling, when you should be begging for her?

Agatha raised her hand, her magic seething at her fingertips, ready to tear that woman apart until nothing remained—

But a strong arm held her back.

"Agatha, stop!" Rio shouted firmly, using all her strength to keep her in place.

Agatha turned her face in fury, but then she realized.

Something was wrong.

The woman’s gaze.

Empty.

Yours too.

The smile on your lips… wasn’t yours.

Wasn’t real.

A shiver ran down Rio’s spine. Her eyes scanned the street, her heart pounding.

And then she saw it.

Other versions of you.

With your mother.

Walking. Smiling.

Spreading through WestView like a damn plague. Repeating like a damn loop.

Rio felt rage boil inside her. Her fists clenched, and she wanted to kill. She wanted to destroy.

"Wanda…" Agatha spat the name like poison.

It was a game.

An illusion.

A cruel provocation.

"That bitch is toying with us," Rio hissed, spitting on the ground, her eyes burning with fury.

Wanda wanted them like this.

Lost.

Consumed by anger.

But what Wanda didn’t know was that there was no emotion Agatha and Rio didn’t know how to use to their advantage.

"So she thinks she can toy with us? With what’s mine?"

Agatha took a deep breath, her eyes blazing violet, her hands warming with the power gathering there.

The woman was ready.

[...]

Your room was shrouded in crimson shadows. The energy pulsed around you, pressing against your body, invading your mind like sharp claws trying to tear something away—something that couldn't be taken.

You screamed.

It felt like your skin was unraveling in invisible flames. Every nerve burned, every thought was crushed beneath a brutal force.

But even as the torment spread like an overwhelming wave, something inside you remained untouched.

Your heart.

Bound to them.

Wanda’s energy intensified, her eyes glowing with desperation and frustration. She stepped closer, teeth clenched, hands hovering over you, trying to find the exact thread to pull—

But there was no thread.

The bond wasn't something that could be undone. It wasn’t a common curse, a crude tether that could be severed with brute force.

It was something deeper.

Older.

Stronger.

And it didn’t belong to her.

Your body arched as a new wave of pain tore through you, your nails digging into the sheets, your vision blurring, your mind fracturing.

You could feel Wanda inside you, searching, trying to rip out any trace of them. But every attempt only made the bond tighten, made your chest ache harder, made your soul rebel against the intrusion.

“Why?” Wanda murmured, her voice trembling. “Why did they do this?”

You couldn’t answer. You could barely breathe.

“Why can’t I?”

The question echoed through the room, laced with something Wanda would never admit—jealousy.

She, the Scarlet Witch, the most powerful sorceress to ever exist, couldn’t touch what Agatha and Rio had done.

And it consumed her.

Her hands trembled as she pulled back her magic, looking at you with something that teetered on the edge of despair.

You were wrecked. Almost lifeless.

But still, you didn’t belong to her.

And Wanda hated that.

She sat on the antique-textured sofa, the spellbook in her lap as she searched desperately for something—anything—that could break the bond between you.

The room was an exact replica of the house you grew up in, but the air inside was thick, charged with magic.

When Agatha and Rio stepped through the door, their instincts were already on high alert, ready to tear apart anything standing between them and you.

Until they saw their younger sister, her eyes red—not just from the glow of her magic, but from something deeper. Something more human.

Pain.

Rio unsheathed a deadly dagger, moving like a predator about to slit its prey’s throat. But before she could strike, Wanda’s voice cut through the air—raw, devastated:

“Why can’t I touch her?”

The words were spoken with anger, yes. But also with desperation. With a sorrow that made Agatha hesitate for just a fraction of a second.

Wanda stood slowly, her breathing unsteady, her eyes locked onto the two women.

“Why can’t I use her?” Her voice cracked, and then, as if her soul was unraveling, tears fell. “Why?”

Rio gripped the dagger so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

“Because she’s ours, not yours.” The growl left her lips, thick with fury.

Wanda shook her head, a humorless laugh escaping her, her eyes glistening with tears.

“This is all so ridiculous.” She swallowed hard, struggling to keep herself composed. “You cast a spell that even I can’t break. You tied her soul to you. Her heart.”

“You don’t understand.” Agatha folded her arms, her voice cold as steel. “You never could.”

“Then make me understand!” Wanda exploded, stepping forward. Her magic crackled, red and alive, as if every cell in her body was on the verge of implosion. “Tell me, Agatha, Rio. What is this?”

Agatha exhaled sharply, running a hand through her disheveled hair, while Rio still trembled beside her. Whatever was boiling inside her was about to spill over.

“This is belonging,” Agatha said, her voice low, firm, cutting.

For a moment, Rio said nothing. Her fingers loosened around the dagger, her breathing turning uneven. Then, as if every wall inside her collapsed at once, her voice came out in a raw, trembling whisper:

“This is love.”

The confession hung in the air like an irreversible spell.

Rio’s green magic dissipated around her, yielding to the weight of the truth. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her eyes shining with something Wanda had never seen in her before—vulnerability.

Wanda laughed again, but it was a broken sound. She ran a hand over her face, as if trying to peel this reality off her skin.

“Love? You think this is love?” Her tone was a mix of disbelief and agony.

Agatha’s eyes narrowed, cold as ice.

“You’ll never understand because you’ve never loved anyone but yourself.” The words struck like a dagger—precise and cruel.

Wanda’s face twisted as if she’d been punched. The air seemed to leave her lungs. Her own name, her own history, weighed on her like invisible chains.

She closed her eyes, her voice coming out in a shattered whisper:

“I love you.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“My family,” Wanda murmured, and the pain bled through her voice like an open wound.

Agatha took a deep breath, closing her eyes. And she saw her—

That young redheaded girl, green eyes trembling with tears and fear. That little child who was too young to understand what she was and how to deal with it.

Agatha had always been there. Helping Wanda tame her demons.

Perhaps she could even risk saying she knew Wanda better than anyone.

“This twisted shit isn’t love, Wanda!”

The silence stretched across the room like a thread about to snap.

Wanda stared at the two women in front of her, her breathing unsteady, tears streaming down her face.

And then, something inside her seemed to crack.

“Oh. And do you know what that is? Binding a poor girl’s heart? Keeping her for yourselves. Shutting me out.”

The word lingered in the air like an unspoken curse.

Rio scoffed, but the sound was tense, filled with something even she didn’t want to name.

“Grow up, Wanda! You’re not a fucking child!”

The Scarlet Witch trembled, her power flickering around her. She felt the weight of those words, felt the weight of the truth she refused to accept.

Because deep down, she knew.

She had always been alone.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Wanda trembled, her eyes red and swollen, her power still crackling in the air but aimless. She didn’t know what to do anymore.

“You talk as if you know what loneliness is. But you have each other. You always have. And now, you have her.” Her voice broke when she mentioned you. “And me? What do I have?”

Rio clenched her teeth, feeling her head throb with what she considered nothing more than Wanda’s tantrum.

“Fuck you. This isn’t about you.”

But Wanda stepped forward, her anger flaring once more.

“Isn’t it? Then why do I feel like this? Why does it hurt? I did everything right! I did everything I was supposed to! And yet… I’m still alone!”

Agatha rolled her eyes, crossing her arms impatiently.

“She isn’t a prize to be won, Wanda.”

"No?" The redhead laughed, bitter. "But she can be an object? A toy, ready to be controlled by you, right?"

The words fell between them like a sharp knife. The air in the room grew heavier, as if the world had held its breath.

Agatha remained still, her eyes widening for a brief moment before turning as cold as ice.

Rio, on the other hand, reacted instantly.

"Shut. Up."

But Wanda didn’t stop.

She never did.

She had always had strong opinions, ready to be spoken no matter who they hurt.

"What’s wrong? Don’t want to debate how cruel I am now? Don’t want to talk about how I’m evil, controlling, when that’s all you ever do?!"

Rio stepped forward, grabbing Wanda’s pale throat, fury seeping through her amber eyes.

"You know what? I’m done playing the big sister. Now. You’re going to pay."

Wanda, her eyes glowing scarlet, remained rigid, fists clenched at her sides. On the other side, Agatha and Rio stared her down like predators guarding what was theirs.

"Do you really want to do this?" Wanda broke the silence, her voice laden with exhaustion and something deeper. Something wounded.

Agatha tilted her head, blue eyes glinting with an icy shine.

"Honey… this was never a choice."

A crackle in the air.

Wanda didn’t have time to react before a purple blast struck her chest, hurling her backward. Her body crashed into the wall, cracking the plaster around her.

She groaned but had no time to catch her breath before strands of green energy coiled around her wrists and ankles.

Rio.

The artist—or the green witch—walked toward her, eyes burning like blazing amber stones. Her hands were raised, wrists rotating in elegant circles as the magic tightened around Wanda’s body, pulling her to the floor.

"You never knew what it was like not to be in the spotlight, did you?" Rio whispered, her voice heavy with old resentment. "You always had to be the favorite, the special one, the untouchable Wanda Maximoff. And now... now you finally know what it’s like to be cast aside."

Wanda gritted her teeth, her eyes burning crimson.

With a scream of fury, a surge of energy shattered the green bindings, dissipating Rio’s spell.

Wanda lunged forward, her scarlet aura pulsing like a furious heart. With a flick of her hand, Agatha’s purple magic began to unravel, sucked into the crimson sphere vibrating between the Scarlet Witch’s fingers.

Agatha felt the drain, her bones growing heavy as if her very essence was being torn away. She gritted her teeth, raising her hands to weave ancient symbols in the air, trying to seal the energy Wanda was pulling—but it was like trying to contain an ocean with her hands.

Rio didn’t hesitate. Moving in a blur of green, she wove ethereal chains around the redhead, attempting to trap her inside a circle of runes—a spell designed to contain cosmic forces.

But Wanda already knew this trick.

With a mere blink, she shattered the magical prison in a wave of pure chaos, the symbols dissolving like broken glass.

The force sent the brunette witch crashing into the wall, the concrete cracking from the impact.

Agatha seized the distraction to strike.

Her fingers moved swiftly, shaping violet formulas in the air. A blast of energy shot toward Wanda, but the redhead dodged at the last second, throwing herself to the side and launching a sphere of chaos at her mentor.

Purple and red clashed, creating an unstable dimensional vortex. The air crackled, the ground trembled, as if the very universe hesitated before such a battle of primordial forces.

But Wanda didn’t stop. She was hungry. She was absorbing Agatha, consuming her magic, growing stronger with each passing second.

Rio, still recovering, watched it all with weary eyes. Wanda was stronger. There was no denying it. If things continued like this, Agatha would fall.

She couldn’t lose her.

And they couldn’t lose you.

Closing her eyes, Rio abandoned resistance.

She let the shadow in.

Her body went rigid. An inhuman heat coursed through her veins.

And then, green gave way to absolute black.

The room seemed to darken. The atmosphere grew heavy, suffocating, as if space itself was folding around Rio.

Her eyes opened—but they were no longer hers.

They were endless abysses, black voids that devoured any trace of humanity. Her jaw had turned entirely to bone. Small horns sprouted from the top of her head.

The laughter came low, almost tender. A funeral melody, sharp and cruel.

Wanda hesitated. Something inside her screamed to stop.

"Wanda Maximoff," the voice of death was calm and serene. "We met so soon, didn’t we?"

Terror crawled up Wanda’s spine, something primal inside her screaming to run.

She had faced cosmic entities, manipulated the laws of reality…

But this?

This was different.

The figure before her was not just Rio. Not just a witch.

It was something older, hungrier, more inevitable.

Lady Death raised a hand, and the snap of her fingers echoed like the last breath escaping condemned lips.

"You had so much left to live for… What a pity."

It was a whisper drenched in delight, as if death savored every moment of her dance with the living.

The world around Wanda shrank. The red wavered.

For the first time in a long time, her own power felt small.

She tried to fight back. Scarlet flames flared in her hands, but Lady Death’s darkness coiled around them like venom, draining their heat, their chaos, her very existence.

The pain was cold as a blade.

Wanda gasped, staggering back.

She felt like she was dissolving. Like she was being erased from reality itself.

The air felt nonexistent. She struggled to breathe. To fight for her life.

Agatha, who had been watching with fascination and a latent care, felt her stomach turn.

She knew this version of Rio.

In the past, the woman had wiped out an entire village just because Agatha had discovered her true essence.

Lady Death feared Agatha would abandon her. But how could she? If the woman in front of her was the most beautifully dark.

Agatha knew.

Lady Death didn’t negotiate.

Had no mercy.

Obeyed no one.

She was sovereign over being and non-being.

And now, her gaze was fixed on Wanda.

"Darling," Lady Death murmured, raising a hand in an almost affectionate gesture. "You can’t cheat death."

The smile that followed was a hollow promise of compassion.

"Shh, just let go."

Wanda gasped, her body already beginning to dematerialize.

But then—

A spell cut through the air.

Ancient runes glowed gold, spreading like chains around Lady Death.

Lilia’s presence filled the room.

"Stop."

Lady Death’s eyes narrowed, a mix of irritation and amusement. She turned slowly, as if assessing the intruder.

"How dare you?"

Her voice was pure condemnation—the fury of something that should never be defied.

But Lilia didn’t back down.

She simply took a deep breath and pointed directly at Agatha, as if to say, "handle this."

And Agatha, with a sudden tightness in her chest, knew it was now or never.

Dealing with her wife in this form was like walking on eggshells—as if the universe itself was holding its breath.

Lady Death remained motionless, darkness pulsating around her—a ravenous vortex ready to consume Wanda whole.

But Agatha ignored it all.

She ignored Lilia, ignored Wanda gasping for air, ignored even the crushing weight of death that enveloped the room.

All she saw was Rio.

The woman who had bewitched her long before any magic.

The woman with whom she shared eternity.

The woman who needed her now more than ever.

With delicate care, Agatha stepped forward. Her movements were slow, measured. She could feel the tension thrumming through the entity before her, feel the raw power that made Lady Death something beyond mortal comprehension.

But it didn’t matter.

Because beneath that mask of bone, beneath those abyssal eyes and that suffocating presence—she was still Rio.

Her Rio.

The witch lifted her hands, unhesitant, and touched that inhuman face with a reverence that ached.

Her fingers brushed against the chill of death.

And she did not recoil.

“You need to come back to me, my love.”

Agatha’s voice was a thread of silk, a whisper slipping through the veil between realities.

She felt it when Lady Death tensed, sensed the exact moment the sovereign creature hesitated.

But she did not stop.

Agatha’s fingers glided tenderly over ossified skin, her gaze locked onto the bottomless voids that sought to devour everything around them.

The woman who terrified and fascinated her all at once.

“For me...” she repeated, her voice turning into a hoarse murmur.

And then, the final blow:

“For our little girl.”

The darkness wavered.

The hollow eyes flickered, as if something within them trembled between the present and a distant time.

The chaos around them shuddered.

Death hesitated.

Because there, at the heart of eternal night, on the threshold between destruction and return, there was something stronger than any power Lady Death could wield.

There was love.

There was the memory of sleepless nights whispering magical rites at the bedside.

There was the touch of tiny hands clutching their fingers—trusting, demanding.

There was the sound of her laughter, echoing like music in the depths of Rio’s mind.

And Lady Death, so absolute, so unyielding, faltered before it.

The bony jaw quivered.

The sharp fingers, which held Wanda’s fate in their grasp, trembled.

The shadow of a name formed at the edge of her consciousness.

Your name.

And then, like the tide retreating, the pitch-black abyss began to unravel.

First, the shadows around them.

Then, the eyes.

Brown.

Rio’s deep chocolate eyes shimmered back to life beneath the darkness, like a reborn constellation.

Her body swayed, magic dissipating in silent spirals.

And then, with a trembling gasp, Rio collapsed into Agatha’s arms.

Agatha held her close, heart pounding, her forehead pressed against Rio’s, as if anchoring her there. As if ensuring she would never lose Rio to herself again.

Behind them, Wanda panted, her lungs ablaze as she struggled to breathe. Her eyes still glowed scarlet, but the spark of her usual confidence dimmed with every passing second.

Her hands trembled as they instinctively went to her neck, massaging the skin as if she could erase the sensation of Rio’s fingers—or rather, Lady Death’s—squeezing, crushing, consuming.

She swallowed hard, tasting the metallic tang of her own blood.

Then, a voice shattered the moment.

“Argh. For God’s sake. Go get the girl already.”

Lilia.

Her lazy drawl cut through the air like a whip crack.

Agatha blinked, the abrupt return to reality fogging her thoughts for a moment. She still held Rio against her chest, feeling her breath—warm and shaky—against her collarbone.

The familiar scent of her skin was still there, hidden beneath the aura of death. The weight of her body was still real, still human.

The world settled back into focus.

And there was Lilia, watching it all with a bored expression before rolling her eyes and throwing herself onto the couch with irritating elegance.

“And what are you doing here?” Agatha finally managed to ask, her voice still raspy from the energy drain Wanda had inflicted on her.

“Helping, obviously,” Lilia retorted with a smirk.

“You could’ve arrived a little earlier, don’t you think?” Harkness shot her a cynical smile.

Lilia shrugged, irreverence dripping from every movement. “I like to make an entrance.”

Agatha huffed, too exhausted to argue, but before she could respond, a movement caught her attention.

Wanda, still wrestling with her wounded pride, forced herself to stand. Her body protested the effort, her muscles screaming as if each fiber were being torn from the inside out.

But nothing hurt more than the humiliation.

They had won.

They had shattered her illusion.

The redhead clenched her fists, grasping at the remnants of her conviction.

“You can’t!” she burst out, frustration and desperation lacing her voice. “She must be used as a sacrifice!”

The word hung bitter in the air.

Sacrifice.

As if it were simple. As if it were inevitable.

Rio, still trying to reorient herself after being consumed by Lady Death, lifted her gaze to the youngest.

What she saw made her falter.

Wanda didn’t look like a vengeful goddess, nor even a formidable enemy.

She looked like...

A child.

A lost child, desperate to cling to something that made her feel less alone.

A shadow of a tear shimmered in her green eyes. Wanda shook her head, fiercely, denying it even to herself.

“We’re supposed to stay together. No one can come between us. We are family,” she insisted, but her voice wavered on the last word.

She tried to smile, but it never reached her eyes.

Lilia exhaled slowly, as if trying to dispel the weight of something that had long since settled in her chest. Her eyes—normally filled with irony and indifferent charm—were dull, tired.

“Wanda.” Her voice was firm but not cruel. “You need to understand that we are different people, okay? We disagree with you. We can all be happy, the four of us, and still have separate lives. And you should be happy about that.”

Wanda blinked, as if struggling to process the words. Her gaze darted between them, searching for something—anything—to prove that it wasn’t true.

“But I am!” she cried, urgency spilling from her voice. “I swear! I would never truly hurt any of you. You know that, don’t you?”

There was something painful about the way she sought their validation.

Her face was paler than usual, her green eyes wide, her breathing shallow.

She looked desperate.

Afraid.

Like a little girl who, after letting go of her mother’s hand in a crowd, suddenly realized she might never find her again.

Lilia bit the inside of her cheek, her gaze flickering away for a moment.

She looked thoughtful.

The silence between them grew heavy, thick. The air felt warmer, suffocating, as if something unseen were pressing against their lungs.

Then, at last, Agatha broke the silence.

“Sometimes, you hurt us... indirectly.”

The older witch didn’t raise her voice, but each syllable cut Wanda like a blade.

Wanda blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

Agatha hesitated for a brief moment. Her gaze softened, but there was an underlying firmness in her posture.

“Wanda... What you did to Améli—”

“Agatha, don’t you dare!”

Lilia interrupted abruptly, her voice laced with something she rarely let slip: vulnerability.

Agatha looked at her, her own expression weighed down by an old ache.

But Wanda didn’t want silence.

She wanted answers.

Her eyes burned with fury, and a surge of scarlet energy crackled around her fingers.

"No. Speak! Tell me!" Her voice trembled. "I want to know why you think I’m a monster who hurts you when all I’ve done is protect us!"

Silence.

Then, Lilia murmured.

"Amélie."

The name was spoken with a weight that Wanda didn’t immediately understand.

But Lilia did.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, as if the name itself were a physical blow.

"She was mine," Lilia continued, her voice thick with longing and pain. "And you took her from me."

Wanda’s stomach twisted.

Her heart, which had been pounding until then, gave a strange thud inside her chest.

Suddenly, breathing seemed difficult.

Wanda looked up at the ceiling, trying to connect the name to a person.

Oh.

"The nun?" she asked, a mixture of disgust and confusion in her voice.

She remembered the girl and her robes. She remembered how devoted she was to the place that stood against everything they were. So when she saw Lilia interested, she thought it was for something greater.

For a bigger plan.

But no.

Lilia loved her.

A nun.

A love forbidden in infinite ways.

Lilia blinked slowly, her eyes shining with something Wanda didn’t immediately recognize.

It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t fury.

It was pain.

Raw, throbbing, suffocating pain.

The silence that followed was worse than any outburst of screams.

Then, Lilia laughed.

Not a laugh of mockery, nor one of irritation.

It was the sound of something breaking.

Of a heart that had been shattered so many times it no longer knew how to stay whole.

She shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe what she had just heard.

"Is that how you saw her?" Lilia continued, her breath becoming uneven. "As a symbol of something you despised? As an enemy that needed to be eradicated?"

She took a step forward, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"Because to me, Wanda," her voice cracked, but Lilia didn’t stop. "To me, she was everything."

Wanda blinked, feeling something bitter rise in her throat.

She wanted to respond.

Wanted to defend herself.

But she couldn’t.

Because, for the first time, she really looked at Lilia.

At the way her body trembled, at the way her lips pressed together as if trying to hold back something on the verge of spilling over.

And then, as if she couldn’t hold it back any longer, Lilia broke down.

Thick tears streamed down her face, and she ignored them completely.

"You killed her," Lilia whispered, her voice heavy with the weight of resentment. "You took her from me without hesitation. Without even wondering what she meant to me."

The air in the room grew dense, oppressive.

Lilia took a deep breath, her trembling fingers running through her graying hair. The tears escaped without permission, hot and thick, tracing a salty path down her skin.

Wanda couldn’t look directly at her.

"I… I didn’t know, Lilia. I—" Her voice faltered, eyes burning. "God. I would never hurt anyone—" She wiped her face with the backs of her hands, desperate, as if she could erase what she had done.

But the truth was, she had hurt.

So deeply.

For a girl.

For a girl who had meant nothing to her.

Wanda didn’t understand.

"Then what was it?" Lilia asked, her voice choked with nearly unbearable pain. She struck her own chest hard, as if trying to tear away the emptiness Amélie had left behind. "Why does it hurt so much?"

Her eyes met Wanda’s, but there was no love in them anymore. Only a chasm of grief and disappointment.

"She was my happiness, Wanda."

Wanda felt her chest tighten, her lungs failing.

"And you ripped her away from me."

The silence that followed was mourning in itself.

She ran her hands through her red hair, trembling. Despair crawled inside her, draining any remnants of control.

"Alright. I can fix this." Her voice sounded rushed, almost childlike. "I can fix this. Tell me anything, Lilia. I’ll do it. Let me make it right."

Lilia laughed.

Low, bitter.

"Make it right?" Her voice rose into a scream that made Wanda flinch. "Do you really think you can make it right, Wanda?"

Wanda faltered, her heart begging for a way out.

"Please, Lilia…"

But Lilia no longer heard pleas.

She exhaled deeply, wiping away the last of her tears with her fingertips. There was an eerie calm now, something resolved, definitive.

"We should stay away from each other for a while." Her voice was firm but not cruel. "I am so angry at you right now… Fuck. Like I’ve never felt before."

Wanda held her breath.

Lilia had loved her.

And precisely because of that, the pain was so overwhelming.

She didn’t know if she would ever be forgiven.

And that was the sentence that broke Wanda.

Panic flooded her red, swollen eyes.

"Please, Lilia." Her voice trembled, thick with despair. "Hurt me. Curse me. Hate me. Give me any punishment you want."

Her shoulders shook.

"But don’t leave me."

It was the end of the world for Wanda.

She had tried to avoid this fate at all costs. Had done everything, everything, to prevent being abandoned.

But in the end, all of her choices had led her to the same place.

Lilia looked at her for a long time.

A time that felt like an eternity. In a hoarse, exhausted voice, she replied:

"I don’t need to punish you, Wanda."

Lilia took a small step back, her gaze soft but unwavering.

"You know, leaving is also a way of loving. You helped me learn that."

She took a deep breath.

"Today, it’s my turn."

And without another word, Lilia turned and walked out the door.

The silence left behind was deafening.

[...]

In the next room, your trembling, almost lifeless body gasped for air, and your eyes slowly fluttered open, blinking against the soft light bathing the space.

Alive.

You were alive.

…or just dreaming?

Your breathing came in small tremors, your body heavy, weak, but your senses picked up something your mind had yet to fully grasp.

The warmth of hands caressing your skin, a gentle, reverent touch, as if afraid you might dissolve between their fingers.

Soft whispers, tender, words barely reaching the world but wrapping around your heart like a warm blanket.

"Finally, my little girl."

The sound of the voice was melodic, filled with a love that made your chest tighten.

Your trembling body finally began to relax under those touches. You blinked slowly, your vision still blurry, and saw their silhouettes. Their forms right there, so close, so real…

You tried to murmur something, but your lips felt too heavy, and all you managed was a shaky sigh.

It didn’t matter. You didn’t need to say anything.

Warm arms wrapped around you, both fierce and tender at the same time, holding you as if trying to protect you from the world itself.

And maybe from themselves.

"Mommies are here now, sweetheart."

The sound of those words made something inside you release.

Everything would be okay.

The answers could wait. The questions didn’t matter anymore at that moment.

Now, you just wanted to enjoy this.

So you melted into their embrace, sinking into this warm feeling.

So… so warm.

It felt like you were delirious — and maybe you were, given your current condition.

But something deep in your mind guessed this is exactly how a person feels when they are loved.

~*~

Ufff, it seems we have a family case over there, huh... (call Cristina Rocha, pls)

Btw, this chapter is the need to you know that you will have a spin-off of Wanda Maximoff in Woven Fates :)

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher @reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good @imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp @lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01 @aboutcustardcreams @upsidedowndanvers @starbucks-06 @absolute-memegarbage @trinity2k @greyella @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @whitelotus00 @dandelions4us @creaturesaphique @warpdrive-witch @sweetmidnights @dingdongthetail @mommy-mommy-mommy-hi

[xxsillysealxx]

Bill meeting long haired male reader at a con and flirts with him thinking he’s a woman at first? Maybe 👉👈

this is so funny and cute i immediately started writing

decided to use epilogue bill for this bc um. i need that ugly man

Bill x Male!Reader Oneshot

This had been a particularly shitty con. Bill had been to some disappointing conventions, but for the love of Zod, whoever was above must be punishing him for some crime he wasn't aware he'd committed.

First he'd been caught sneaking a couple of comics into his bag. Whatever, it wasn't his first time getting yelled at by a comic book vendor. There were plenty of other booths he could visit.

But then he'd lost a bidding war on a Yakface figure, complete with the collector's coin and everything. It was only one of the most sought after figures in Star Wars collector history, and it'd slipped right out of his fingertips. What a load of shit.

His hand flexed around the fabric strap of his bag. Every booth was either not worth his time or one he'd already visited. A full five hours here and what'd he have to show for it: a vintage The Flash comic, a couple 1990s Marvel Happy Meal toys, and a good deal of money down the drain that he'd spent on overpriced convention food. What a waste.

He was ready to leave and go stew in his anger in his mother's dimly-lit basement when something caught his eye. Actually, it was someone. His gaze landed on a girl, one he couldn't see the face of. Her hair was what had attracted him. Long, silky, shiny. He had a bit of a thing for pretty hair.

Her outfit was lacking, but still, Bill could only imagine the gorgeous figure hidden under the baggy t-shirt. He bit the inside of his cheek, debating whether approaching her was a good idea. He'd never had luck with women, for reasons that should've been obvious but that he couldn't identify through his own inflated ego. After getting rejected quite a few times in the past, he'd decided he would let the women come to him. He didn't want some bitch if she couldn't tell that he was a "high value man", in his words.

But what the hell, it'd been a bad day already, it wasn't like he'd be spoiling a good mood if he got turned down. Plus, it'd been a while since he'd made a move on a woman, maybe this would be different.

He approached her from behind, tapping her on the shoulder with a clearing of his throat. He tried to force a confident smile as he spoke, "Greetings.. I noticed you from across the room and I just couldn't ignore your-"

He paused as the figure turned to face him, looking utterly confused and nothing like Bill had pictured. She wasn't ugly, no, she just.. wasn't a she. There was no doubt that Bill was staring at - and flirting with - a man.

"Uh.. sorry, man. Not a chick," the stranger said, grinning awkwardly. He grabbed a strand of that long hair, fidgeting with it between his fingers. "Probably the hair that threw you off, huh? Don't worry, you aren't the first." He chuckled, trying to break some of the tension.

Bill didn't reply, jaw agape as he stared at the guy. He stared back, glancing between Bill's horrified expression and the other congoers, most likely wishing he was anywhere but in this situation. Most guys in the past would have apologized and walked away embarrassed by this point. Why was this one lingering?

It suddenly occurred to him that the brunette had never actually outwardly assumed he was female. A light blush formed on his cheeks at the idea that this.. admittedly scraggly looking man was fully aware he was a man, and had wanted his number anyways, and he'd gone and made it weird by assuming he was a confused straight man.

This, of course, wasn't the case; Bill had totally thought he was a woman. But it didn't stop the stranger from reaching into his pocket and fumbling around for a piece of paper and a pen. "Shit, there I go, assuming again.. I'm so sorry, I'm so used to dudes thinking I'm a girl-" he rambled apologetically, scribbling something down on a piece of paper and placing it in Bill's hands.

Bill glanced down at the writing, finally breaking his gaze away from the stranger. It was a phone number. Holy shit, this guy thought he was gay.

"That's my bad again," the long-haired man said with a nervous grin. "Um.. if you wanna give me a call, that'd be cool. I don't think I ever caught your name."

Bill had a lot of responses. He could explain that it was a mix-up and go about his day slightly more embarrassed than before, he could scream at the guy for even assuming he'd be some kind of faggot, he could run away and try to forget any of this happened. But instead, he mumbled out a response, "Uh.. Bill."

The long-haired stranger smiled at him. "Well, Bill, give me a call sometime, yeah?" And with that, he was off to rejoin his group of friends, leaving Bill speechless in the middle of the convention center.

He looked down at the slip of paper again. He should probably throw this away, he had no use for it...

He slipped it in his pocket shamefully, fists clenched at his sides as he walked out of the convention, away from the chattering voices, away from the rows of vendors, and away from the stranger and his mane of hair that was making Bill question if it was just long-haired women that he liked.

[echantedtoon]

RUN AWAY BUT I'LL FIND YOU AGAIN

@hantengus-fuckass-clones

@hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha

This is a sorta sequel to my Yandere Demons And Brides posts. Basically just headcannons of the demons of Y/n managed to escape.

Warnings for yandere themes, kidnapping mentions, possibly death mentioned, panic attacks, Hairou shooting himself, entrapment, mentioned wounds and scars, regular demon Slayer content, Douma/Karaku/Enmu IS his own warning, possibly some innuendos, etc.

If any of these warnings upset you pls don't read. I will be including Daki/Ume/Zohakutan in the line up as part of Gyutaro/Hantengu's part but she/he will be strictly PLATONIC yandere!! Absolutely NO romance between her/him and reader!! And her parts will be minor. Nakime is short and like last post I left her Yn GN while the others I wrote as female Yn.

Buckle up guys. This is gonna be a BIG post with all the demons from the last two posts. Especially Hantengu's part.

KOKUSHIBO:

-How you managed to escape him? Who knows? He's Upper Moon One and that's nearly an impossible feat.

-After reclaiming you as his wife, he expects you to take your place as a dutiful wife should. Which is why he's very disappointed when you're just acting scared and always refusing his advances instead of greeting him like a good wife should be!

-He's only allowed to have you because Muzan allows him too for being so loyal and efficient. But that means he can't pause his duties less his master changes his mind. So maybe that's why you were able to find an opening to escape the house he trapped you in. The one he expected you to clean for him and come to take care of for your lives together now.

-He's not shocked by your want to escape him but he is certainly surprised when he discovers the desperation you had smashed a boarded window open he had made sure to tightly close off. The wedding ring he always forced you to wear around him discarded on the floor amongst the broken glass and boards of wood. He didn't think you were strong enough to get it open.

-He has a mixed reaction. He's disappointed that you managed to leave, frustrated too and annoyed, surprised as said you were able to get out, but mostly disappointed. He's not angry. He's got very good control of his anger, if anything he's just disappointed that you would rather try to escape. Deep down he's very upset with himself, a Deep sting of rejection like all those years ago stinging him.

-Its doesn't matter however. He's patient. And it's not like you'll be able to outrun him for long.

DOUMA:

-Remember how I said that you're best chance to get away from him is when he's still confused about his feelings in the last post? If you choose to escape then, then he won't bother. Not at first at least. He'd still be too confused about everything and not know what was going on to go after you until he finally realizes it or someone explains it to him. By then you might hide well enough to never see him again.

-However if you managed to escape after- Bravo! Somehow you managed to bypass Douma and his cult. Only one piece of advice to give you-

-RUN! Run as FAST and as FAR AWAY as you can! Because a Douma with emotions is actually emotionally and mentally unstable.

-When you aren't there and no one can tell him where you are, he feels scared and panicked like never before. He's almost hyperventilating as he tears apart the compound desperately calling your name ordering his cult to search the compound and comb through the nearby forest and mountainside for any signs of you to no avail.

-When he realizes that you left him he goes through a rage he's never felt before. It's so overwhelming that he kills(absorbs) any and all cult members he thinks even remotely causes you to get away. A bloody scene that for once might make Muzan pleased with his existence. He doesn't stop there he tears apart his room to satisfy his anger throwing and smashing anything he can get his hands on and leaving claw marks all over the walls.

-After he eventually comes down from his rage, he feels numb for a while before he starts crying. He's sobbing uncontrollably and curled up in your bed hugging your pillow to him. A wave of sadness and betrayal stabbing him in the heart over and over.

-Why did you leave him?! Did you not feel loved enough?! Did he not give into every whim you wanted?! He stays there unable to control himself or answer his questions until nighttime. Hope you have a good head start because as soon as sunset hits, he's coming after you and this time you wont ever leave him again.

AKAZA:

-To be fair he'd probably be the easiest demon to escape from outta all the upper moons. It's still NOT easy to do so but because Akaza doesn't harm women let alone the one he's in love with, he'll not do anything to actually harm you other than keep you isolated and trapped in one spot because he's afraid anyone would harm you if he let you wonder around.

-He allows you to go outside (only at night and with him so he can watch you-) since he knows being cooped up can't be good for your health. This might be your only chance.

-Someone might not see being cared for is a bad thing but Akaza seems to almost infantize you. You won't be able to do anything yourself. Want to cook? He'll do it! You can burn yourself! Want to go for a walk? He'll agree with him but halfway through he's seeing you limp with your bad leg and just call it quits before just carrying you all the way home. Want to bathe? Ok but he's waiting for you right outside in case you slip and hit your head! He doesn't allow you to do anything yourself and if he does, he's right there or just outside the door in wait.

-You're best chance of escape is just crawling through a window during the day and legging it as far as you can. If you do do this, expect him to have the biggest panic attack in his life when he sees the open window. Hyperventilating as he pictures the most horrible worst case scenarios of you running into a bear or rogue demon without him there to protect you. Or worse- WHAT IF YOU ENCOUNTER DOUMA?!

-Hope you know a good hiding place because once he catches you, you're never being left alone again.

NAKIME:

-You literally couldn't escape her with her teleportation powers but let's say you did for the sake of this post. Sneaking out by diving through an open doorway she opened for another demon or Muzan.

-Its was a surprise really you made it out. Like Kokushibo she's very good at controlling her anger and wouldn't really be anger even. She's just disappointed and a bit annoyed her Husband/Wife(whichever you wanna go by with the lady demons like last post) would still insist on being childish and trying to run away again.

-She'll be impressed you made it as far as you did but be weary of sudden doors whisking you back home to an annoyed demon 'wife' again.

GYUTARO (+PLATONIC UME/DAKI):

-You could've simply gotten away if you had boarded the train with your soon-to-be husband and never saw either demon again as they never left the Red Light District.

-Good luck escaping Daki's belt and the underground home they keep you in. You're too scared to fight back so you remain casual and polite out of fear (and to try and think of a way to escape).

-It won't be easy. They take turns in rotation. Daki loves dressing you up and chatting with her like always like nothing changed. Gyutaro will hold you to himself and feel relieved just having your warmth against him. If they aren't around then Daki has her talking belt minion guard you or she puts you in a belt for a while. It's rare for all three of them to be busy at once but it has happened more than one time. They don't think you can escape the hole in the ground anyways.

-Well you do. One day while they were all busy. Clawing your way through one of those thin tunnels until you reach the surface freed. You're alive. Dirty, a little thin, and scared out of your mind. But alive and free for now. You better get out of the E District because of you do stick around they'll catch you sooner or later.

-Both have a similar reaction when they come home and discovered you gone. Daki throws a massive half tantrum half crying fit. She tears her talking belt minion to shreds blaming it for your escape. It's ok. She'll make a better one later when she calms down but right now she'll cry and throw a fit while demanding her hyperventilating brother fix this as he usually does.

-Gyutaro has a similar reaction to a emotional Douma. He'll tear apart your underground home, and when he can't find you he'll fall into a hyperventilating mess of emotions. He's absolutely pissed off. That's his default emotion after all so it's his first reaction but he'll start falling into a mess of tears and crying as realization jabs into him. He knew he was ugly. He's so ugly even a practically blind girl would eventually run away from him. He's a blubbering crying mess like his sister for a while until both are calmed down enough to think with clear heads.

-Hope you were able to make it to that train because you don't have just one but TWO demons coming after you.

GYOKKO:

-Possibly the second easiest one to escape from. All ya have to do is yeet his pot off a cliff side or something but the problem is he'll quickly teleport back to you angry in another pot.

-Your best bet is to use flattery and his own ego against him and to your advantage. Tell him how honored you were to receive such beautiful pots from him. Listen to him sing his own praises. His guard will lower as you both talk to each other about his pots, art techniques you both use, and anything else involving art or himself in some way. Honestly if he wasn't a demon and kidnapped you, you probably wouldn't have minded the conversations.

-Play along as his little mise. Holding still as he carved your likeness into a vase or allow him to watch as you shakily work a needle and thread too closely. Eventually his guard will be down enough for you to escape.

-While he's not sun proof his pots are. While he's gone, turn the pot he uses to get inside your home upside down and place the heaviest object you can on it to help delay his entrance as you run into the daylight.

-Oh he'll be furious and throw a fit about you leaving and how you treated his precious vase, but he's more preoccupied by the fact that his precious muse has vanished into the wind. Luckily for you, he's the easiest demon to hide from. Just stay away from vases and any art studios for a long while. He's sure to be close by looking for you.

KAIGAKU:

-All I can say is good luck. While Kaigaku isn't the brightest, strongest, or emotionally adept demon he's definitely not someone you can easily trick or escape from. You can't get more than a few yards away at most before he notices you walking away from his distracted form and barks a demand for you to return to him immediately!

-Doesn't help he also keeps you in the Infinity Castle where lots of demons watch you with hunger. They only don't eat you because you're around Kaigaku's side at all times and no one wants to tussle with Upper Moon Six, especially if it was Kokushibo who brought him in. Kaigaku is smug about having you always paraded around on his arms.

-You have to use the same tactic for him as you did Gyokko. Compliment him subtly and every once and a while. Keep it casual however. Doing it too much with cause him to get suspicious and catch onto your plan. However a compliment here and there that sounds like a genuine observation will boost his ego and slowly but surely let his guard little by little down around you. To the point he leaves you in a room he marked as his own when training with Kokushibo.

-He's absolutely terribly shocked and PISSED when he discovers you gone and later learns that you had taken Nakime off guard by diving into an open doorway as she wasn't looking. Oh now he's not just pissed, he's ENRAGED!! You'd better run, run, run. Because as soon as the sun goes down a cursing black rage filled shadow is hunting you down even if it takes him all eternity.

HAIROU:

-(again couldn't find a gif of him) Outta all the lower moons Hairou would be the hardest to escape from. Not only can he teleport using shadows, but he has guns, and summoned shadow wolves on his side.

-He can get overwhelmed by his emotions and have a panic attack from the PTSD and end up shooting himself. That would be the ideal time to flea, when he's too overwhelmed by emotions to really take in his surroundings and know what's going on. You have to be quick though because he can recover pretty quickly after the gunshot.

-If you're somehow able to escape from him some other way he's having the worst panic attack of both his human and demon existence. It'll take him all night and many rounds of ammo before he's actually able to get his head together enough to really get a hand on the situation.

-You must get creative as you run however. He'll track you down using his shadow wolves like a pack stalking down a deer.

HANTENGU (+ CLONES):

-Hes actually the easiest Upper Moon to escape from. It's just a matter of timing and how you execute it is all.

-You're best bet is to use his own delusions against him and do your plan when he's by himself without any clones present to stop you. Act sweet to him. Tell him you're glad you're 'husband' is home and that you were going to run out and grab him something to make for dinner and to just make himself comfortable. He's so delusional and thinks you're just being a sweet 'wife'(nevermind you two aren't married) that he believes everything you say.

-Wont even put up a fuss as you smile casually and wave at him before walking out the door on your way to town to 'buy ingredients' only you skip right past the town and you don't walk you freaking RUN!! Run, run, run as fast and as far as you can before he realizes that you aren't coming back.

-He's so delicious that he doesn't suspect anything. In fact he takes a nap and wonders about the house for hours waiting for you when you don't show up once it's night time is when he knows somethings up. He doesn't believe you ran away however. No. To the day he died Hantengu believes his poor wife was abducted by another demon or slayer.

-Hope youre far away because he's ripping himself apart and sending his clones out to search for their poor 'wife.'

SEKIDO:

-He may not look it but he's very concerned about their 'wife.' He doesn't know what happened to you and he doesn't care. He wants you back and he wants you back NOW!!

-First thing he does is yell at Hantengu for twenty minutes about stupid he was to let you go by yourself all defenseless and weak. Next he's ripping up himself and Karaku to get the others and ordering them in the scariest most threatening tone ever to get out there and FIND YOU! Even if it was the last thing they did.

AIZETSU:

-Crying, blubbering mess. He knows you weren't happy with them but did you have to run away? Did they do something wrong? No. It must be because something awful happened to you because they weren't there. You'd never run away from them!

-Most emotional outwardly and on the verge of an anxiety attack the entire time they're looking for you. Once they find you(if they do) he's holding onto you and sobbing into your dress about how sorry he is.

UROGI:

-Man is molting in anxiety. He's making panicked turkey noises while he's looking for you. He thinks it's a game at first thinking you're just playing chase but when it becomes clear you're actually GONE he's running around like a headless chicken panicking.

-The most likely to spot you from up above so be sure to stick close to trees and outta sight because if not then you'll find yourself swooped up by a freaked out harpy and flown back to the others...that is if KFC man finds you at all.

KARAKU:

-Is surprisingly the only one that's thinking clearly. He's the clone of Relaxation so he's going to be the calmest one in this situation. But he's still panicked and scared like the others desperately searching for you.

-In a moment of arguing the others blame him for you possibly running away with how he always acts towards you. He has six other clones yelling at his face making him feel very guilty and wonders if it was his fault. He promises to make it up to you and never do it again once they find you. IF they find you.

ZOHAKUTAN:

-THE most likely to find you. He comes out in a last resort when Hantengu and the five other clones are unable to find you. Forces Sekido to absorb the others and let him take over searching with his wood dragons. He can just take shelter and continue looking for you during the daytime with them too.

-Eliminates any and all obstacles in his path until he finds you and entraps you in the mouth of one of his dragons before dragging you back home to everyone's relief. Be prepared for an earful and to be under close observation for the rest of his time alive because Zohakutan will be coming out more often after this.

URAMI:

-Very resentful that Hantengu was dumb enough to let you wonder off by yourself and like Sekido he'll spend a few minutes yelling at him for it too before joining in on yelling at Kataku and going to search for you.

-Be prepared for him to be out a lot more now too to guard you and make sure you don't try anything like this again.

KYOGAI:

-Like Nakime it's going to be nearly impossible for you to escape someone that can teleport to you and shift the mansion around to keep you from escaping. You're best bet is to crawl or jump out the nearest window at the first opportunity.

-Kyogai can't go far from his mansion because that's where most of his power lies so your best chance of truly getting away from him is so flee as far from the mansion as possible. Depending on if it's night or how hurt you are from jumping out the window he might catch up to you.

-He's not the worst demon to be trapped with but his desperation for genuine connection makes him certainly very possessive and he isn't willing to let you go that easy.

ENMU:

-How did you manage to get out of the personal train car he locked you in? He's literally a part of the train and can control how much freedom you have.

-Turns out insomnia is one helluva drug.

-Enmu is not easily fooled. He will not be fooled by flattery, tricks, or challenges. And you're certainly not as strong as him. The best bet is the element of surprise. Pretend you're having one of your naps. He'll sometimes forget your body doesn't work with sleep like a regular person, so when you suddenly tackle him out of the way as soon as he opens the door, he's taken off guard. Take this chance and RUN!!

-Stay away from train stations and trains. You'll probably be able to avoid him as his main body is literally infused with a train. I'm fact stay away from train tracks and towns with stations all together. You never know if a train whistle is just Enmu around the corner.

[lutorao]

Doffy 🦩

Doffy being jealous over Luffy, is my fav moment

let me explain okay?

here we go

Doffy knew every single thing about Law

how he survived, his backstory, his history, his goals(this is debatable cauz his goals changed after Cora's death) and etc.

Law was a traumatized child who had lost everyone and everything. He believed that he only had 3 years left to live, so he had to experience everything in those three years.

he lost his parents, his sister, his friends and everyone

Doffy was a man who had experienced hunger, the kind that gnawed at your bones and left you hollow. He had known the anguish of losing a parent, the primal fear of death stalking his every step, and the burning rage that only betrayal and abandonment could ignite. Doflamingo was no ordinary tyrant; he was a man molded by pain, and that pain had birthed his relentless hunger for power and control.

Law reminded himself of this truth every time he thought of the man who had once loomed over him like a god. He had seen that rage firsthand—the seething fury of someone who had lost everything and now sought to take everything from others in return. Doflamingo wasn’t just a warlord; he was a survivor who had clawed his way to the top, dragging anyone he could down into the depths with him

And then one day he finds out that Law created an alliance with who? with Luffy

Doffy had high hopes for him

But Law had walked away. He had chosen someone else.

Doffy couldn’t forgive that.

For all his power and charisma, Doffy was a man who demanded loyalty to the point of obsession. Law’s betrayal wasn’t just a practical blow; it was a personal insult, a rejection of the twisted connection they had once shared. And worse, Law had chosen him.

Monkey D. Luffy.

A man who embodied everything Doffy scorned. A fool with reckless dreams, an idealist who sought freedom in a world where freedom didn’t exist.

So yes he got mad,of course he got,he was confused. law isn't someone who trusts people that easily. he was confused because he chose luffy, why him? why luffy? why he trust him that much?

What could Law possibly see in him? Doflamingo had given Law purpose, power, and the means to enact his revenge. Luffy had given him… hope? Friendship? Law could almost hear Doflamingo’s sneer as he thought of it: "I made you. I saved you. And you abandoned me for him?"

Why did you choose him, Law?! I thought you were a smarter man than this!" The anger in these words isn’t simply about the alliance; it’s deeply personal. Doflamingo prides himself on understanding people, bending them to his will, and shaping them into extensions of his vision. Law choosing Luffy is, to Doflamingo, proof that he misjudged Law. Worse, it highlights Doflamingo’s own insecurities his inability to inspire true loyalty beyond fear or manipulation.

Doflamingo’s jealousy stems from this realization. Law’s choice wasn’t just about strategy, it was about rejecting Doflamingo’s way of life in favor of something he could never offer: trust, camaraderie, and a vision of a world not ruled by fear. For a man like Doflamingo, who thrives on dominance and sees relationships as tools, this rejection is both infuriating and incomprehensible.

he was still here, thinking about him, right?

"do you remember the first day we met law?"

imagine how annoying this was for him

Doffy was the man who taught Law how to fight. Doffy was the man who killed his own brother because his brother "betrayed" him. Now imagine how disappointed, angry, and hurt he must have been when he discovered that the person he had placed so much hope in—the one he thought would one day become his right-hand man, whether to exact revenge or fulfill his own ambitions—had chosen someone else. A pirate. Someone for whom Law had risked everything in the middle of a war to save his life. And if that wasn’t enough, now an alliance? Against him, no less. Many believe that Law used Luffy. Really?

Does this pannel really look like he was using him?

And as strange as it may seem, Law truly wasn’t opposed to the idea of Luffy using him instead.

How crazy must a person be?!

I mean look at is face

"using? who's using whom...?

As if that wasn’t enough, he also entrusted Luffy with his deepest secret—Corazon. He preferred to die alongside Luffy rather than live without him. And on top of that, he worried about him? Is the alliance over? What are you doing here?

Law, get a grip—you’re being far too obvious!

A man who had no faith, who trusted no one, suddenly shares his deepest secret with someone else? Oh, Law… And to place his hopes in him, of all people? Yet, look at how confident and happy he is every single time Luffy declares he’ll become the Pirate King. He was like, “That’s my boy.”

(from anime btw)

and I don’t know if it’s because of Cora, maybe even Luffy, but it’s clear that this character’s development is undeniable, right?

Thank u

[skipper1331]

Communication is key // Alexia Putellas

Without thinking, you called Alexia, feeling frustrated and disappointed about her behavior.

"Hello amor"

"Were you at the beach with the girls yesterday?"

Since weeks you had been asking if she wanted to hangout and go to be beach, just for some time away from football.

"Yes, why?" she replied, confused.

"I don’t want to fight, but I’m asking since 2 weeks if you want to go to the beach with me and you tell me you‘re busy each time and now you went out with the other girls? To the beach? Even though, you know I’ve been asking…You didn‘t ask if I wanted to join you guys" you said, upset about the fact that Alexia acted that way and that you got so carried away as to even bring it up.

"Eh- um…" the midfielder was silent for a moment, thinking about how to phrase it as kindly as possible "the problem is that Mapi has a problem with you and that’s why we decided as a group that you can‘t join. It wouldn’t end well"

"We‘re a friend group of 5 people…? If she has a problem she should talk to me privately."

The friends group consisted of Mapi, Ingrid, Frido, Ale and yourself.

"Yeah.."

"So, I’m no longer part of the group when Mapi is there? That‘s so nice, Alexia, thanks!" your voice was laced with sarcasm and anger.

Of all people, you at least thought Alexia would defend or support you - you were her girlfriend.

"What do you want to hear from me? The girls asked and I wanted to do something as a group so I went along. And if they exclude you, there's nothing I can do about it. Just chill out, we'll catch up on it at some point."

The betrayal and hurt you felt in that moment, was unreal - how could she say something like that? She was the person who had asked you out a dozens of times with puppy dog eyes. She was the one who begged for your kisses and love. And she was the one who wanted to spend every second of the day with you, no matter what plans either of you had.

Why was she acting so cold and rude now?

"You know what? If you want to hangout with me, then feel free to text me, but I won‘t be running after you, just to get rejected every time, even though you apparently have the time but just don't want to when it’s with me, your girlfriend! So, text me if you want to do something that isn’t having sex, otherwise we'll see each other in training."

With that you ended the call.

Did your friend group really decided that? It didn‘t seem to make any sense. And was even the problem with Mapi? The two of you were friends, never any problem between the two of you. But more importantly: what was the matter with Alexia? Why was she acting weird and distant? Have you done something wrong?

Normally, both of you were all over each other, holding hands, kissing in the storage room or even just an arm around your waist - spending almost 24/7 together. What was happening?

You declined every call that came in after, the caller id always the same.

reina 👑

amor, por favor.

call me back

lo siento

Caught up in your anger, you started to deep clean your apartment, not being bothered to call her back or even reply. The cleaning relaxed you but it also got you thinking. Was Alexia acting like this because she wanted to break up with you? Did she realize that you weren’t worth her time, attention and love? You always had a feeling that Alexia would break up with you at some point, many pretty girls in the world that would die to even just meet Alexia, let alone be loved by her.

That night you went to bed feeling very queasy and stressed - was she really about to break with you? She had texted you multiple times as she also had tried to call you but you didn’t answer.

The next day, you went to training acting as usually but with one exception - you avoided Ale and the rest of your friend group.

You did partner drills with Patri, talked in water breaks with Lucy and ate lunch with Aitana, Keira and Caro.

It was usual that you socialized with other people than your friend group but the unusual part was that Alexia didn‘t follow you around like a lost puppy. Instead she sent longing looks towards you, sad smiles displaying in her face when you dodged her glances as she tried to act tough and unbothered by your ignorance.

"What have you done?" a thick English accent asked the midfielder who was walking towards the changing room.

"Maybe I handled things a bit wrong" she explained, not wanting to reveal too much - a little bit scared of the Lucy Bronze as she had gotten the shovel talk from her when she started dating you.

'If you hurt her, I will haunt and hurt you' Lucy had told the Barcelona captain.

That day, Alexia promised Lucy and herself to never hurt you - not that she intended to anyways.

"You better make up with her otherwise I will have to hurt you" the defender smiled, entering the locker and walking to her cubby.

Alexia was quick to take a shower and get ready, waiting for you in front of the facility. She knew you hadn‘t left yet as you had entered the changing room when she came out of the shower.

She indeed wanted to make up with you, the whole situation a misunderstanding.

When you walked out of the facility, she called after you, "Amor, ¡esperar!" grabbing your hand, stopping you on your short journey to the car, "can we talk?" her voice was gentle and caring.

"Do you want to break up with me?" you asked straight forward, stepping back, trying to protect yourself with the distance yet you knew it wouldn’t help from a potential heart break.

"No no, amor, no. Let me pick you up at 7, okay? I‘ll explain everything"

You thought about it, unsure what to do.

"Okay"

It was Alexia after all, the person who was always honest. If she wanted to explain something, she would.

"Thank you, amor" she pressed a kiss to your cheek, walking you to your car, "be safe" she said as watched you, pull out of the parking lot, feeling so much better now that she had talked to you, even if it was just a few sentences - now that you had smiled at her.

-

5 minutes early, she rang your door bell, shuffling with her feet and fidgeting with her hands - she was nervous.

"Come in" you greeted her, "just need to put on my shoes then we can go"

The midfielder nodded, shyly entering your home as if she hadn‘t been here before.

"You look very beautiful, like always" she smiled, cheeks slowly turning red. Alexia felt like as if it was your first date all over again. She still remembered how shy and nervous she was, wanting to do everything perfect, so you‘d like her and she could ask you on another date. Also she had said the exact same thing when she picked you up for your first date.

"Reminds me of something" you chuckled, as well thinking back to the night where she had taken you out.

"Sí, you‘re getting prettier every day that hasn‘t changed"

Alexia thought you were the prettiest girl in the world, you took her breath away every time she saw you - you were absolutely stunning.

"charmer" you giggled, cheeks a dark shade of red. In that moment, everything felt like it used to be. She wasn‘t acting distant or weird, she was acting like the girl you fell in love with.

Everything is going to be okay.

"Amor, may I?" she asked politely, offering her arm as you had put on your shoes. Wordlessly, you linked your arms, walking towards her car. She opened the door for you, hurriedly rushing over to her side before she started the engine and rested her hand on your thigh. She was glad when you didn‘t push her off - you had missed her touch all day.

The two of you stayed in silence, your favourite songs playing as she drove to her destination. With every metre you got closer, she became more nervous and anxious. She knew she had some explaining to do but also was about to ask you an important question - which was the reason she even had to explain things. She wouldn‘t let a misunderstanding fuck things up with you. She wanted to marry you in the future - your relationship was very serious to her.

(Also she did not wanted to get haunted by a certain scary English defender.)

-

"Why are we at the beach?" you asked, the ocean right in front of you.

"Do you trust me?" the Barcelona player questioned, avoiding your question - she would explain in a moment, you just had to wait and trust her.

"I‘m not quite sure?" Ale raised an eyebrow, "fine, I trust you"

The girl smiled widely, stepping behind you and covering your eyes with her hands, "are you about to murder me?" you joked, knowing damn well that Alexia wouldn‘t dream of letting you fall or hurt yourself in any kind of way.

"Keep walking, amor"

-

After a short walk in the sand, the woman stopped, slowly revealing the sight in front of you.

There was a large picnic blanket, cushions and basket, wine and two glasses standing next to it - it looked romantic.

"Ale- what‘s all of this?" you asked confused, already emotionally touched by the gesture.

She sat down, making herself comfortable before she tapped between her legs, "come here"

Sitting in between her legs, staring towards the ocean and the beautiful sunset while she purred two glasses of wine.

"This is wow" you muttered, not yet leaning into her body as you were still moody at her but still admiring the work and view. It was indeed very romantic, rose petals and candles decorated everything around the two of you.

"I‘m sorry for avoiding you" Alexia started, loosely wrapping her free arm around your midsection, "i didn‘t mean to act weird. I was here with the girls to practice this- they helped me to set everything up and encouraged me for what I’m about to do. Ingrid decorated, Frido made the snacks and well, Mapi carried everything while I was freaking out at home because I didn’t know what to wear. I‘m sorry for letting you think i want to break with you or for acting weird, i was just really nervous these past weeks" she put her wine glass down in the sand, making sure it wouldn‘t fall before she pulled something out of her pocket, "I’m always nervous when I’m around you but this time it was different. I was scared of getting rejected and in return, I rejected you without even realizing."

Hidden in her hand, she gave you her little 'present' - a key.

"I would like you to move in with me." she breathed out, her heart racing.

You turned in her hold, looking at her with wide eyes.

"You‘re sleeping at my apartment almost every day and i can barely sleep without you being in my arms, so i thought maybe you would like stay at my place every night from now on" she rambled, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

The widest grin broke out on your face and you kissed her - you had been wanting to bring up the topic since awhile now, yet always feeling too shy to do so as you knew Alexia loved her personal space and alone time. You didn’t want her to feel pressured or to feel like she had to agree.

But now you’re even happier that the idea and suggestion came from her - she wanted this too - she was ready for the next step.

"I’d love to" you answered, kissing her rapidly as she giggled while you did so.

"I‘m glad" she sighed in relief, puckering her lips once again.

More kisses, please

You happily accepted the key.

The key wasn’t just any key, it symbolized that it was the key to her heart and home, that communication was the key to happiness, and that her nervousness couldn't always open all doors - which she had realized now;

Spending the whole at training without you was horrible. She never wanted to experience that again.

-

As your little picnic date continued (both of you back at being sickeningly in love with each other) the sun almost down completely, a question popped up in your head, "Mapi doesn’t have a problem with me, does she?"

A loud hearty laugh escaped your girlfriend, "no, amor, you‘re perfect. When you called me the girls were with me and I panicked and Mapi was signing something, so that‘s what came to my mind with her wild gestures. I‘m sorry if it sounded rude. Everybody loves you and you are very much a part of the group, my favourite member in fact"

Weirdly, you could imagine Mapi way too well and Alexia never lied to you. Added to that she was a horrible liar, her brows slightly raising when she lied or was trying to.

You believed and trusted her. It all made sense now - you remember how nervous she was when she asked you out on a date, you remember how nervous she was when she actually took you out, also how nervous she was when she asked the girlfriend question and how nervous she was just today.

You could only imagine how nervous she would be if she ever decided to ask you to be her wife.

Which Alexia definitely would do.

She would always be nervous around you, it‘s you - you‘re way too perfect for this world, so Ale had every right to be nervous every day anew - you were the key to all her happiness.

[millerskitty]

Running If You Call My Name

❥ dbf!joel / f!reader x joel miller

❥ (18+) nsfw

❥ reader insert

❥ medium burn, no outbreak au. some timelines are changed to fit the story.

dividers by @/saradika !

warnings: angst

word count: 1k

author’s note: thank you so much for the love on this story, i’m so excited to share it with you. sorry for the angst ahaha, i love a good cry. let me know if you’d like to be on the tag list for upcoming chapters!

masterlist

Chapter 5

There were no words to describe everything you were feeling when you’d gotten home. You’d slammed the door behind you, and dropped down onto your bed, sobbing. You took your own advice and felt your feelings. All of them. Jealousy, anger, and disappointment coursed through you.

You hated knowing that he’d been with someone else. You tried not to imagine the woman who was probably not much older than you touching him.

You knew you had no right to judge Joel for having needs, God knew you needed to get laid and soon. You replayed his comment about Caleb. He knew his name, Caleb had been mentioned several times in conversations between you and Pop while Joel was present, trying to pretend he didn’t hear a word you’d said about your new boyfriend. You found it amusing that Joel would go out of his way to say the wrong name. To pretend he didn’t give a shit.

You weren’t officially exclusive with Caleb, but he was the only person you were dating. It was easy with Caleb, he was everything that Joel wasn’t—and yet, that wasn’t enough to make you walk away from this thing you had with Joel. You should have wanted to be with the person who wasn’t afraid of loving you.

Your phone buzzed, snapping you away from your thoughts. “What was that really about?” Sarah asked over text.

“Nothing, just a misunderstanding.”

“Not fair, tell me.”

“Really, nothing to worry about.”

“I just got cheated on.” She said with a puppy face emoji.

You groaned. You couldn’t deny the ‘cheated on’ card. You wondered if you should tell her the truth. You wondered if you had the right to tell her that you’d been slightly involved with her father.

“Fine. Come over in an hour and I’ll take a turn on the soapbox,” you replied, running a bath to soak the heaviness off of yourself.

~

Sarah arrived while you were in the bath, making herself comfortable in the living room, nibbling on a muffin and watching reality TV. When you took a seat beside her, she turned the TV off and faced you, giving you her undivided attention.

“Holy shit, Bug, you’re gonna make me nervous.” You said, chuckling and sitting criss crossed.

“Oh my god. Just tell me!” Sarah said, rolling her eyes and stuffing a chunk of muffin into her mouth.

“It’s complicated.”

“My favorite.” She half smiled with her mouth full.

“Well, your father and I…” You stalled, trying to find the words.

“Uh huh…” Her eyes were now nearly bulging from her head.

“Sarah!” You playfully smacked her knee. “God, I don’t know how to say this.”

“Use words and sentences maybe.” She was her father’s daughter, you had to give her that.

“I sort of developed a crush on your dad. It started almost a year ago.”

Sarah looked completely unfazed. “Okay and then?”

“What? You’re not upset?” You asked, shocked.

“No, that was obvious, but what happened next?” She said, cruising right past your breaking news.

You blinked in confusion, but continued on, “I mean, I was almost sure that he wanted me, but then he rejected me. Twice.”

“Y’ouch. We should kick his ass.” She said, popping the last piece of muffin into her mouth.

“Girl, it's nothing compared to what’s happening to you.”

“Shhh, don’t change the subject.” She said, “Uncle Tommy and I had a bet going that you two would eventually get together.”

“What?” You shouted. “Rude. Who is winning then?”

“No one, we both bet on the same thing.” She shrugged. “So why do you think he rejected you?”

“He said he won’t upset my father by being with me.”

“Pfft, what a cop out,” Sarah said.

“I’m saying! I know my dad is protective, but he cares about my happiness the most.”

“As he should,” Sarah said, turning to face you. “Well, he hasn’t been okay for a few months. He’s been grouchy. I think that’s why he brings that chick over.”

“Do you think they’re serious?” You asked, bracing for a dose of Sarah’s usual brutal honesty.

“No, she’s just some chick he brings over at night and he makes her leave before I wake up. But he doesn’t know that I’m privy to their shenanigans. And I don’t like her. She leaves gross knots of red hair in the shower. I don’t think dad really likes her either. She’s just there when he’s lonely, I guess.”

Your stomach started to hurt, a combination of confusion and jealousy bubbling within you. “I don’t know what to say. I can’t change his mind. And I have Caleb now. I can’t move forward if I’m still looking back.”

“I think you should talk to him.”

“What makes you think he wants to talk to me?”

”Because he kicked that woman out and stormed back into his room and started tossing shit around all loud and moody.” Sarah said, standing to leave.

“I don’t know if we can recover from what just happened.”

You hear Pop pull into the driveway, his truck humming loud followed by the slam of the door. ”Okay, I’ll think about it.” You said, trying to wipe the sadness from your face before Pop saw it and started to pry.

Pop held the door for Sarah as she left, “Good morning Sarah!” He said enthusiastically. Church always put the pep right back in his step after a long week.

“Hi, puppy, what’s wrong?” Pop affectionately asked you.

“Nothing, just had some girl talk with Sarah.”

Pop was holding a paper bag, likely full of sweet breads from the ladies at church. He threw up his free hand in mock surrender. “Don’t wanna know!” He said, heading to the kitchen.

You slumped down into the couch, throwing an arm over your face. You recalled a time when things were much simpler. Before you knew what Joel’s kiss tasted like. Before you knew what his big, strong hands felt like. You turned around, burying your face into a pillow and willing yourself to sleep it off.

tag list: @foxin5billion

[shadebloopnik]

Unrequited/One-sided Radioapple but it isn't treated like an angsty end of the world thing.

Imagine they slowly get closer after all the banters, and eventually becoming close friends. Lucifer ends up catching feelings for him, and after a long while, decides to confess and ask Alastor if he felt the same.

Alastor admittedly does not feel the same.

He's getting uncomfortable, struggling to keep his composure because he's DONE this before. He KNOWS how this ends. He remembers Vox and all his insistent declarations of affection and desperate pleas for Alastor to reciprocate; the possessive entitlement. He remembers how all those sickly sweet words morphed into something venomous when he didn't give the lowlife what he wanted. He remembers the anger, the ridiculous notion that it was Alastor's fault why he was so mad, that Alastor led him on and that he obviously deserved something in payment for it all-

So yes, Alastor knows how this ends.

It doesn't mean he isn't disappointed though, because he actually LIKES Lucifer, far more than he ever did Vox. Perhaps not in the way the king might have wanted, but he did. He treasured their little talks, their drinking sessions, their shared love for their instruments, Lucifers singing, their little duets, the banter, the playful jabs, the sparring.

He'd even slowly grown accustomed to the other's touches, not feeling the same surge of disgust and discomfort whenever the shorter man would grab at his arm in excitement, forgetting his usual thoughtfulness of Alastor's touch aversion for the short moment of whatever distracted him. Alastor even enjoyed it at times, relaxing at the feel of soft feathers beneath his claws, or the sensation of gentle scratches against his ears.

Difficult as it was to admit, Alastor had grown to care for the angel, the same way he had for Rosie orv Mimzy.

But no matter how fond Alastor was of Lucifer, it didn't change the fact that he didn't feel the same way romantically, or even sexually. No way in the 7 rings of Hell was he going to lie to Lucifer about either, not going to even entertain the idea of pretending he reciprocated for Lucifer's sake. He respected his friend too much for that.

So a clear, direct rejection it is. It was a shame, but nothing could be done. He said his piece concisely, and waited, shoulders set, back straight, smile and eyes a careful blank canvas as he prepared for the inevitable.

Lucifer nodded, a normal soft smile still in place, "Thank you for your answer, it means a lot."

Which......what? Alastor expected an outburst, or at the very least sharp words.

What he did NOT expect was....acceptance? And not just that but, a happy one? Contentment?????

"You're....alright with that?", he had to ask, he had to. Lucifer was clearly just very good at masking his upset.

But the damn angel just smiled?? And it didn't even look fake, just as bright and soft as his normal smiles, albeit a little confused?? Lucifer smiled at him, his brows furrowing in a bit of confused disbelief, as though Alastor is being the weird one here.

"Uhh, yeah??? Why wouldn't I be??? Yeah I may have some feelings for you but its not like you're obligated to feel the same. Above anything else, we're friends first and foremost and i'm alright with that..."

Then he seemed to have reached his own little conclusion as his words trailed off, because suddenly Lucifer's eyes widened in realization of something, and his words picking up with a sense of panicked urgency.

Alastor would really like to know what Lucifer's supposed realization was about himself because he had absolutely no clue.

"I mean, we ARE still friends right?? I don't- I- I hope this doesn't like- change your opinion of me. You're not- oh gosh I'm not making you uncomfortable am I? I- I won't mention it! You can even forget this whole confession ever happened! We can just go on as before! I don't feel any different or would act any different! Honest! I mean, I don't regret confessing because you deserve to know and I'm not ashamed of my feelings, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable! It doesn't change the way i'll treat you! Or change any aspect of our relationship! I don't even think I like you more as a lover than as a friend! I really, really do love our friendship, it matters more to me than any thoughts of being in a romantic relationship with you! So please just forget it all-"

Alastor let the word vomit wash over him, every word leaving him more confused by the minute.

Because yes, there's the desperation he expected, but...it was more about, convincing Alastor to remain friends?? Reassuring Alastor that nothing has to change?? That their friendship is the most important thing here??

(If anyone asks, no Alastor's heart didn't swell. Only lesser beings would have had the urge to cry, and Alastor is anything but.)

Lucifer is unknowingly reassuring Alastor of every single one of his insecurities about the situation. Because Alastor DID want to remain friends, he cared too much about the man to let it go so easily. It was rare to find people who treasure friendships above romantic relationships.

"I don't tend to forget easily, nor will I forget this one in particular.", he spoke, finally finding his voice. At Lucifer's defeated, pained expression( is their friendship really that important to him?), he continued. "But....yes. I'd like that.. To remain...friends."

He didn't often say the word out loud, being comfortable enough with each other that it need not be reassured with the label. But with Lucifer brightening up like his namesake, relief and happiness palpable, Alastor felt no qualms at declaring their friendship out loud.

So life went on as usual. True to his word, Lucifer remained basically the same. The following weeks were a bit stilted for Alastor, as he put some rather painful distance between him and the angel; limiting their interactions, their usual touches.

Anytime now, Lucifer would break and show his true colors, Alastor would think, waiting for the boot to drop. Lucifer would end up angry, and dissatisfied, and that was that.

But it never happened. Lucifer never expressed discomfort when Alastor avoided him, seeming to be understanding of the others need for space. He was just as affectionate as before, though initially a bit held back, as though gauging Alastor's comfort.

Months would pass, and the king never faltered. Their friendship remained strong, if not growing ever closer than before. Alastor found himself even growing more comfortable with the man. Affectionate touches were becoming common, hugs and head pats and cuddles being a welcome thing, with the reassurance that the shorter king would never disrespect his boundaries.

Lucifer seemed genuinely happy about it, despite being clearly told that none of Alastor's actions hinted at anything romantic. In fact, he seemed ecstatic that Alastor was getting more affectionate towards him as a friend. The embarrassment the radio demon felt at having Lucifer basically tear up (no really, he was crying so hard, full on drama sobbing) with joy in front of him was intertwined with the sheer incredulous fondness he felt for the man at that moment.

They were sitting at a couch one night, more than a year passing since that confession. Lucifer was leaning back, resting against the cushions, while Alastor had his head on the smaller one's shoulder, nuzzling at the crook of his neck, legs tucked close to his body. Both had a book in hand, two nearly empty cups of tea on the table in front of them. Every so often, Lucifer would flex his fingers that rested on Alastor's head, running a digit against the other's ear, often prompting the demon to lean into the touch. White wings enveloped the two, blanketing them against the chill of the night.

As Alastor turned the page of his own book, relaxing into the touch of his dearest friend, he wondered how he ever got so lucky in hell.

[veenxys]

「How BNHA Boys would react if you get rejected by them only to start dating their friend after they comfort you」

⤷ Bakugou

bakugou never needed anyone, and he felt great like that; that's what he always said and that's what he said when you declared yourself to him. he didn't feel remorse or sadness until he saw you moving on; a mix of emotions took over him when he saw you being happy with someone else, being loved and valued. he felt selfish seeing you like this, but mostly he felt horrible for letting you go and realizing his feelings too late. he would try to talk to you, but not in a nice way because he doesn't know how to do that; his feelings are taking over him, his anger and selfishness taking over his thoughts and words, which made you move even further away from him. which made you hurt even more. but you wouldn't need to worry about that because you have someone who would take care of you and help you heal your scars, while he only had himself because he never needed anyone… he thinks.

⤷ Deku he was confused about his own feelings and didn't want to involve you in this confusion, so he just let you go. at first, he thought it was the right thing because he thought he didn't feel anything for you, he didn't see you the same way you saw him. but these thoughts came at the exact moment he saw you with someone else. he didn't feel anything for you, right? so why now does his chest feel like you took his heart away? why does he miss you? he just looks at you from afar while you laugh at the joke that your 'friend' told you - the same friend of his, that he told you everything. the same friend who caught you when he let you fell. he just takes a deep breath, swallowing hard as he tries to look away. but he can't, you trapped him and he knows it won't be easy to escape. he knows it won't be easy to let you go. not this time.

⤷ Kirishima

he thought his friend would just laugh at the situation, but no, his friend got angry. why did he hurt you? why didn't he value you? why was he finding all this funny? the two argue and kirishima tries to put it aside; it's over now, none of that matters anymore. but, when he saw you and your friend being happy, he felt the weight of the consequences of his actions. he was childish to have found the situation funny or to have bragged that he didn't want you - when, in fact, all he wanted most was you. he knows there's nothing to be done now, so he just sits with his feelings, trying not to drown in a sea of guilt, disappointment and regret.

⤷ Todoroki

he just didn't know how to show his feelings. he couldn't say or demonstrate anything, just look at you scared while you opened your heart to him. from his reaction, you imagined that he didn't feel the same way and that your feelings didn't mean anything to him, so you just asked him to forget everything and left, trying to connect the pieces of your broken heart. you haven't seen each other since then, and the moment he sees you again, he becomes unresponsive again. you moved on. you learned to love and accept being loved by someone who truly values you and loves you the way you are; someone who knows how to show their feelings. he stays still, unresponsive again, just letting his heart shatter in his chest into pieces so small that he feels like they will never mend again.

⤷ Denki

he wouldn't mind so much at first, actually. you declared yourself to him, he didn't feel the same way, you say sorry, he makes a joke about the situation and you don't talk to each other anymore; breaking that bond of friendship and trust that you had. he was fine for a few days, but then regret came like a wave; why did he do that? he was so blind, so lost… he shouldn't have let you go. but when he looks for you again, it's already too late. you are with someone else; someone comforted you when he left. someone who truly loved you. someone who isn't him. he feels terrible like never before, but there's nothing he can do. he tries to be happy for you, he swears he tries, but he knows he will never really succeed.

⤷ Tamaki

when you first declared yourself to him, he was paralyzed. he didn't know how to react, it was as if the world had stopped as he tried to find himself. his silence was like a nightmare to your ears, which made you imagine the worst and he did nothing to change it; he just distanced himself from you because he felt like he was drowning, like he couldn't breathe next to you. after that you walked away from him because you couldn't look at him after what happened, but he could look at you with his friend; he didn't know if you two were together or not, but he felt his heartache like never before in his chest. and he wondered why. why couldn't he say anything? why did he feel his heart break for you after losing you? why couldn't he be different?

⤷ Shinsou

he was so used to people's rejection and fear that he was confused and lost when you confessed to him; he didn't know what to say. he didn't know how to tell you this, but he wasn't ready. he didn't want to trust anyone else just to have his heart and soul broken again. then he pushes you away, leaving you and him broken because he loved you dearly, but not in the same way you loved him. he thought it would be the best for both of you, but it was the best for you that you found a better person and finally cured yourself of all the nightmares of your past. and he can only observe; with a broken heart in his hands as he realized he lost the love of his life, the only person he truly loved and trusted, and who loved him back, but he realized his feelings too late.

⤷ Hawks

he started making so many excuses and reasons why you shouldn't be together that he made you think the problem was you. and it broke you completely. he was truly sorry about that, but there was nothing he could do when you started to walk away and fix yourself with someone else's help; a person he trusted. he knows it's too late to apologize or take it back, and he doesn't want to take away that bright smile of yours off your face after all he's done for you. so he just watches from afar with a broken heart and empty eyes as you find your home in someone else's heart.

⤷ Dabi

he didn't want a relationship right now and he wasn't ready to share his life with someone, so he broke your heart in ways you didn't even know were possible. but seeing you moving away from him made him feel a huge emptiness in his heart; a void you've filled for so long. and when he saw you with someone else finally being happy and free, he realized he made the biggest mistake of his life. he didn't know how much he loved you and how much he wanted you until he finally realized that he lost you in someone else's arms. but he has to pretend he's okay with it because, after all, he's the one who broke your heart.

⤷ Shigaraki

he always felt something different for you, but he didn't want to destroy you like he did all the other people that came into his life. so the best option he had was to lie and say he didn't feel the same way about you. he knew it would hurt, but it was a pain he could heal and leave only a scar…right? he's sorry he hurt you that day and he'll never forget that, not after the day he saw you with a new person. and this person - who swore to be his friend - made you so, so happy. and he hated himself for knowing he could never give it to you, but he hates himself even more for not even trying.

[schemmentigfs]

Req/idea: Melissa wanting to pleasure the reader, but she’s inexperienced with women? (Talking her through it, reassurance, building trust, etc)

Her First Woman’s Touch.

Summary: Melissa goes through a difficult process of self-discovery and acceptance to learn more about intimacy between women, so she can give you pleasure during sex.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of religious trauma, internalized homophobia, a single slur, body insecurities, smoking, smut. melissa might be out of character sometimes? joe hate club

Notes: This is long, but it’s worth it. 🤍 i wrote it with so much love, so enjoy babies.

Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti wasn’t insecure and vulnerable. She always was the rock of her social circle, the unstoppable woman who could handle anything thrown at her with a steady, unflinching resolve. Her demeanor was tough, marked by a confidence that rarely wavered. But lately, a huge doubt consumed her.

After years of feeling trapped by a label that didn’t define and fit her, she finally came out as a bisexual woman. However, this new freedom came with its own uncertainties. Now, being in a stable four months relationship with you, a more younger, captivating and more experienced soul. Her heart was racing as she thought about how she wanted to please you and be sexually intimate, but her lack of experience with women made her hesitant.

The painful memories of her college years flooded her mind again and again, a time when she had yearned to explore her bisexuality but felt shackled by her upbringing. Her parents, deeply religious, had instilled in her a profound sense of guilt about any feelings that strayed from their beliefs. Melissa always watched with envy as others embraced their identities, while she remained in silence, suppressing who she was. This inner conflict persisted long after graduation, but now, as an adult, it felt heavier than ever.

The memory of her father’s harsh words cut through her like a knife. “You’re going to burn in hell, Melissa Ann!” he shouted, his voice thick with anger and disappointment. “You’re gonna be the black sheep of the Schemmentis. If you don’t stop with those stupid thoughts.” Those horrendous words, once echoing through their small, cluttered kitchen, now reverberated in her mind, haunting her even years later. “Someone corrupted you, that’s not the daughter I raised to make me and your mother proud. Non sei un fottuto frocio!”

A knot tightened in her stomach, a familiar feeling of dread and nausea creeping in as she recalled her traumatic childhood. She remembered the confusion and shame she felt, struggling to understand why she was drawn to both boys and girls. It was a realization she had kept hidden for so long, fearing the wrath and rejection of her family. Every stolen glance, every fleeting crush on a girl, had been tainted with guilt and self–recrimination.

For decades she blamed herself for not being straight. For not fitting into the strict normal mold her family expected her to follow. The fear of condemnation had forced her to hide her true self, living in a constant state of doubt. The burden of carrying her secret had made her feel isolated and alone, as if she were the only one in the world grappling with these feelings.

In her teenage years growing up in a strict devout Catholic household, Melissa would often lock herself in her bedroom, her sanctuary from the outside world, and pray. The room was small, with a crucifix hanging on the wall above her bed, and a small statue of the Virgin Mary on her simple nightstand. The faint scent of incense from morning Mass still lingered in the air. On the days when the weight of her feelings became too much, she would kneel by her bed, clasping her hands tightly together, her knuckles white with tension.

But her prayers often turned into desperate arguments with God. She’d rail against the silence that seemed to mock her suffering. In fits of anger and confusion, she would scream at the crucifix, questioning why she was cursed with desires that didn’t align with the life she had been taught to lead. Melissa was supposed to marry a good healthy man and start a family of her own, wasn’t she?

“Dear Lord, why have you condemned me to this torment?” she cried out, her voice cracking with desperation. “Why have you made me this way? Why can’t you accept me for who I am? Am I so abhorrent in your sight that I must suffer endlessly? Tell me—am I so wrong, so irredeemable in your eyes?”

She paused. “And what about my feelings for both boys and girls? Is it a sin to love them both? Am I to be punished because my heart refuses to choose between them? Why must my own nature be a source of such unending pain? Why can’t you understand that my love for them is just as real, just as genuine, as any other?”

One evening, overwhelmed by the unbearable weight of her internal conflict, Melissa’s deepest frustration reached a boiling point. She hurled a wooden chair across the room, its legs scraping loudly against the floor as it crashed into the wall. The violent act seemed to punctuate her desperation, the chair’s splintering echo a stark contrast to her deep-seated pain.

“Why do you let Pa call me a dyke? Why do you let him say I’m an abomination? You know the pain it causes me! Why do you let him tear me apart inside while Ma pretends nothing’s wrong?”

Her knees buckled as she collapsed to the floor. The coldness of the tiles was a stark contrast to the feverish heat of her anger. One of the holy saints statues, a symbol of her faith, tumbled from its pedestal and shattered, its fragments scattering across the room.

The once serene face was now a mosaic of broken pieces. The porcelain, once pure and whole, now lay in shards, mirroring her own fragmented sense of self. The saint’s broken visage was a stark reminder of the purity that had been tainted by the harsh reality of her suffering.

“No! Not Saint Maria! Nonna’s favorite saint!”

The exhaustion was overwhelming. She felt her limbs growing numb and her head growing heavy. Her vision blurred, and the room spun around her. Despite her attempts to fight it, her body succumbed to the fatigue. Her breaths grew shallower as she drifted closer to unconsciousness.

As she began to lose consciousness, her lips parted, and a whisper escaped her mouth. “I’m just… a failure,” she murmured, voice barely audible. Her depressive words were a final, fragile admission of her internal turmoil. The words were soaked in the weight of her self-loathing and the pain of feeling misunderstood and rejected.

The door creaked open slightly, and Kristin Marie peeked into the old bedroom, her wide eyes searching for her older sister. She saw Melissa sprawled on the floor, her form partially obscured by the scattered shards and a amount of blood. Her innocent curiosity was momentarily replaced by concern, but the sight of her stillness made her stop.

“Sister Mel is sleepy,” she giggled, her words full of poor miscomprehension. The toddler turned to leave, deciding to give her sister the rest she seemed to need. “Play later!”

Hours later, Melissa slowly stirred, her head throbbing with a dull ache. As she tried to sit up, she felt a sticky warmth on her forehead. She reached up, her fingers coming away covered in a faint crimson. Groaning softly, she touched the spot gingerly and winced as the pain intensified.

“Son of a bitch...”

Gazing at the mess and determined to salvage what was left, she carefully gathered the shards of the broken statue, her hands shaking slightly. She meticulously cleaned the pieces, placing them in a small box as though they were precious remnants of something sacred. And pretended that nothing happened. It was now her dirty little secret.

One that Melissa would keep with her until her death.

Every family gathering, every holiday, was a reminder of how different she felt, how she didn't belong. The Schemmentis prided themselves on their strong values, and she felt like an outlier, a blemish on their perfect image. The weight of her father's words and her mother’s neglecting was a constant reminder of the expectations she could never meet the acceptance Melissa feared she would never find. The poor woman’s siblings, although supportive of their sister, stood in silence, afraid of going against their beloved ma and pa.

In the midst of this stifling environment as life continued, the older woman remained in complete denial. At work, she kept her personal life carefully hidden. Even though her closest colleagues sensed her discomfort and unease, they never pried. She wore her public mask of professionalism and cheerfulness, but beneath it, she was struggling with her own truths.

Becoming a tough woman and pretending to just be heterosexual, a role she embraced, took a significant toll on her mental being. This strength she presented to the world was both a shield and a cage. The weight to maintain this image meant suppressing her vulnerabilities and emotions, leading to a constant internal battle. Her moments of solitude were marked by a deep, unspoken sadness as she grappled with isolation.

The persona she projected often felt like a lie, one that she had to uphold despite the emotional exhaustion it caused. Her mental health suffered as she became increasingly disconnected from her true self. Not recognizing herself anymore.

Melissa’s failed marriage with Joe was a constant reminder of the life she had tried to conform to but never truly belonged to.

That seemed to change when Ava hired you as the new teacher to take third-grade class. You brought a warmth and openness that cut through the fiery redhead’s worst barriers, sparking a connection she had not anticipated. As your friendship deepened into something more, she found herself struggling with feelings she had long suppressed. Despite her growing affection for you, she hesitated to cross the line into physical intimacy.

This vulnerability and insecurity consumed her every single second. As she lay in her king-sized bed on a Friday night after a busy day at school, she couldn’t help but replay every moment of your relationship in her mind. She worried constantly about whether she was good enough for you, fearing she might be making you impatient due to her reluctance to have sex. The fear of disappointing you gnawed at her, and she found herself staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. She ached with the desire to connect with you on a deeper level, to show you just how much she cared, but the uncertainty held her back.

Each night, as she lay next to you in your complex apartment, the older woman would often find herself tracing the gentle curves of your sleeping body with her fingertips, memorizing the softness of your skin under her touch. You were a source of warmth and safety, still every time she opened her mouth to voice her fears, the words lodged in her throat. It was a silent battle, one that filled her with shame and frustration. Melissa felt as if she was a stranger in her own body, struggling to reconcile her desires with her reality.

You had been nothing but patient, reassuring her multiple times that there was no rush at all, that love was about connection and trust. Even amidst your understanding, a humiliation consumed her. How could she be almost fifty four and still feel so unprepared for something natural like that? The shame burned fiercely in her chest, a constant reminder of her late blooming, leaving her wondering if she could ever truly satisfy you in the ways you deserved.

“Santo cielo. I can’t do this I fuckin’ can’t.” Melissa cursed, tears threatening to fall into her green eyes. Why was this so damn complicated? The internal struggle felt unbearable, as if a storm was about to explode inside her. It consumed her, and even surrounded by understanding, the pressure of everything was overwhelming.

Turning her head toward the mirror, she stared at her reflection. The image staring back at her was a woman trapped between two worlds. On one side was the freedom she had found in accepting her sexuality, a liberation she had long yearned for. On the other hand, the harsh reality of her insecurities loomed large, amplified by her constant comparisons to others who seemed so much more experienced and confident. The weight of her inexperience made her feel small and inadequate.

She sat up in bed, wiping at her eyes angrily. “Fuck this, Schemmenti,” she muttered. The words came out as a broken whisper, a desperate plea to herself, but the self-reproach did little to ease the turmoil inside her. The tears came anyway, hot and unchecked, as she let out a shuddering breath. She needed to find a way to talk to you, to bridge the gap that her disquiet had created. But the question remained—could she overcome her past and embrace the love she had found with you? She wanted to explore, to learn, to share everything with you, but the fear of failing paralyzed her.

“There are so many things I still don’t understand,” the redhead continued, her voice choking, as if she was waiting for someone to answer her. “So many things that I need to explore. And I keep getting lost in doubts. It’s not fair to you, baby. It’s not fair to me either.”

Melissa let out a long, weary sigh as she sank into the soft embrace of the sheets once again, curling up into a tight ball of self–deprecation. The emptiness of the bedroom started to swallow her figure, a stark contrast to the comfort and safety she used to feel. She stared at the empty space beside her, her gaze tracing the outlines of the pillow and the indentations where you lain on weekends. The walls of the room, once so familiar, now seemed cold and distant, offering little solace from the storm of emotions inside her.

Memories of happy times with you surfaced, fleeting but powerful, when she would catch you looking at her with tenderness, and such understanding, that it felt like the world stopped spinning. In those moments, her apprehension would momentarily dissipate, replaced by the warmth of your company and gaze. She remembered how you would gently reassure her, your voice a soothing balm to her restless state.

I know I’m your first woman; that means everything to me.

I’ll be gentle, just take your time. You’re safe with me.

Your reassurances helped—sometimes. When you’d say things like those, a part of her believed you, trusted in your kindness. But another part of her couldn’t stop the flood of negativity, couldn’t shut out the fear that she would disappoint you, that she was fumbling through something too precious to ruin.

You’ll never be enough for her, Melissa. You’ve never done this before. She’ll get tired of waiting for you to figure it out. You’ll embarrass yourself.

You’re fumbling, and she’s just being nice. She’s just waiting for the moment she can walk away.

You’re too old for this. You’re too slow, too clumsy. She can do better. She will do better.

“Mi dispiace amore mio, sono un codardo,” she yelled punching the mattress with her fist.

That Friday, she cried until she fell asleep. Exhausted, her salty tears wet the pillow, and silent sobs shook her body as she tried, in vain, to calm the storm of emotions built up inside her. The deep need to feel confident and equal to the love you gave her. And as a troubled sleep finally embraced her, Melissa felt a small relief. The crying, in a way, had been a step towards releasing the feelings that tormented her.

Was she really a coward that would never face her fears?

What were you doing with an old lady like her who didn’t know anything?

Wouldn’t it just be better if you left her?

Over the weekend, the older woman was relaxing on the plastic couch in her living room, a glass of red wine resting in her right hand as she puffed away at a cigarette. The soft lights created a welcoming atmosphere, and the sound of the television, playing Celebrity Jeopardy, filled the space with a comfortable familiar distraction. She was distracted, but her mind was away from the entertainment, deep in thoughts about what she had just watched and what she still needed to do. Melissa watched the show's contestants, her eyes scanning the confident faces on the screen.

She looked at her cigarette, which was almost finished, and let it go out in the ashtray. Her old cigarette addiction had become a metaphor for her deepest insecurities — a habit that was difficult to break, but one that constantly reminded her of her challenges and rage. Each ember that dimmed seemed to echo the older woman's own struggles, a poignant reminder of the destructive patterns she fought to escape. The acrid smell lingered, an olfactory ghost of her past, stubbornly clinging to her clothes and her very soul. With a heavy sigh, she flicked the ash and resolved to confront the parts of herself she had long tried to ignore.

She leaned back into the couch, closing her eyes and taking another sip of wine. The warmth of the alcohol spread through her chest, loosening some of the tension. She knew she needed to do something, to find a way to overcome her fears and insecurities. But where to start? And how to reach information? The idea of opening up about her feelings, of admitting her lack of experience, felt terrifying since she hated to show any sign of weakness.

“Maybe I should do some research?” Melissa thought aloud, the idea dawning on her slowly. It sounded ridiculous at first, but the more she considered it, the more it made sense. She had always been someone who liked to be prepared, to have all the information before making a decision. This situation was no different. If she wanted to feel more confident, she needed to educate herself.

As the edition of Celebrity Jeopardy on the TV ended, replaced by a late-night talk show, Melissa stood up and stretched, feeling the tension ease from her muscles. She walked over to the windows, looking out at the night sky. The stars twinkled brightly, a reminder that the world was vast and full of possibilities. She smiled softly to herself, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

The redhead raised another cigarette to the empty room, striking a match with a soft scratch. As the flame illuminated the dark space for a moment, she took a deep drag, letting the smoke curl up around her. “To new beginnings, for me, for Y/n. To us,” she whispered, voice barely above a murmur. The words hung in the air, resonating in the quiet of the room. It wasn’t a perfect solution, and she knew doubts and fears would still linger. But it was a step in the right direction. As the TV continued to hum, Melissa felt a small flicker of hope. She might not have all the answers, but at least she was ready to start looking for them.

Over the next few days and weeks, on several sleepless nights, the teacher searched on Google. How to navigate a same-sex relationship when you’re inexperienced? she typed, pressing enter before she could second-guess herself. As the results loaded, she skimmed through the titles. There were so many women who had been in her shoes, who had felt the same insecurities and fears at one moment of their lives. With each click, she felt more intrigued and amazed as she noticed the many different options for how she could give and receive pleasure. Articles, videos, forums—an entire world unfolded before her, revealing nuances she had never considered or imagined. She read article after article, watched educational videos, and even ventured into The Womanizer and Quinn blogs where women shared their intimate experiences and advice. The sheer variety of ways to connect and pleasure each other was both overwhelming and fascinating to her.

As she read through personal stories and advice columns, Melissa felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation. She took notes, bookmarked pages, and even found herself blushing at some of the more detailed descriptions. It was a strange, exhilarating education that left her feeling more informed but still uncertain. The more she learned, the more she realized how much she didn't know. And as she delved deeper into this research, she began to realize that the key was not just in techniques, but in communication and emotional connection. The Sicilian woman recalled how your soft touches and kind words made her feel safe and wanted. Perhaps the most important thing would be to bring that same security and desire to both of you.

After weeks of diving into intense research, Melissa found herself at a crossroad. Each day spent pouring over books, articles, and seeking advice had only heightened her awareness of her inexperience. The redhead made a heartfelt promise to herself, one that resonated deeply within her. She resolved that rather than allowing her fears and uncertainties to overshadow her, she would harness the insights she had gained to fortify the bond between you. This wasn’t just about confronting her own apprehensions; it was about opening her heart fully and trusting you in ways she had never allowed herself before.

She envisioned a future where both of you could explore and embrace the full spectrum of love and connection. Melissa understood that the path ahead would not be without its challenges. It would require patience, understanding, and a willingness to be vulnerable. Although, she was committed to embarking on this journey with you. She was prepared to face her worst fears head-on and let the promise of love and trust guide her.

—

“C’mon. It shouldn’t be that hard, stop being a pussy.” The redhead huffed, walking through the busy streets and holding a small pamphlet with an address on it. Pushing herself forward. The words were meant to be a pep talk, but they came out more as a grumble. Dressed in a black leather jacket, her left hand buried deep in her pocket gripping her keys so tightly that the cold metal dug into her palm. While the right clutched the paper, she cut a confident figure. But inside, she felt like a terrified kid again.

On this afternoon, Melissa found herself standing outside a cozy queer café in Philadelphia. The establishment’s large windows framed a warm, inviting interior filled with plush armchairs, bookshelves, vases of plants and soft lighting. A sign with an impeccable handwriting on the door read Sapphic Women’s Discussion Group. All Welcome! The vibrant façade, adorned with rainbow flags and welcoming posters promoting LGBTQ+ events, felt inviting and intimidating.

She was resting on the door handle. The intrusive thought of turning around, retreating to the safety of her car, and forgetting this whole idea crossed her mind. For years, Melissa had thought about walking into a place like this, spaces that welcomed women like her, women who loved other women—but she never imagined she’d actually do it. Not at her age, not after a life of silence and denial.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods enveloping her.

“Here goes nothin’,” The Italian redhead said with a hint of sarcasm, her South Philly accent wry and unmistakable. “I swear if anyone makes funny of me, I’ll fucking ran away–”

Inside, the atmosphere was lively but casual. Women of various ages and backgrounds were seated at tables, engaged in conversations. Laughter and the hum of voices filled the air, creating a sense of community and belonging. The older woman spotted a table in the corner with a small group of women and made her way over, hoping to blend in while still taking in the atmosphere and aura. The table she chose was adorned with a simple centerpiece of fresh flowers, next to a hand-drawn menu filled with witty drink names like Sappho’s Latte and Audre’s Espresso.

“Mind if I sit here?” she asked, her voice betraying just a hint of nervousness.

They nodded, murmuring polite welcomes, and she sat down, smoothing her jacket out of habit. Just as she was settling in, a woman in her mid-thirties approached, a friendly smile lighting up her face. She had short, dark hair that fell naturally across her forehead, and her denim jacket was covered with pins advocating for various causes—pride flags, feminist slogans, and more. There was something about her presence that radiated both strength and warmth, an unspoken understanding in her eyes that seemed to invite openness.

“Hey, you’re new here, right? I’m Jules. Can I join you?”

She managed a small, nervous smile and shifted her gaze downward, politely giving her a clumsy handshake. “Sure, it’s my first time being here. I’m Melissa.”

Jules took a seat and leaned back, her presence somehow instantly putting her at ease. “So, what brings you here today?”

Melissa took a deep breath. It wasn’t easy to open up about something so personal, especially to a place full of strangers, but something about the atmosphere in the shop made her feel safe enough to try.

“Recently, I came out as bisexual,” the older woman began, trembling. “It took me years to figure it out...or maybe I knew all along, but I was just too scared to accept it because of, you know... religious guilt and family trauma.”

“That’s a huge step, Mel. Coming out, especially after carrying something like that for so long... It’s not easy. You’re brave for even being here.”

Encouraged by understanding, she continued, though her words still came out haltingly. “I.. I’m in a relationship now, with a younger woman. She’s amazing, and I really care about her. But I’ve never been intimate with a woman before, and I... I’m so scared. I want to pleasure her, make her feel good, but I don’t know where to start. I was afraid to come here and open up about this. I thought... I thought people might laugh at me or think I’m not ‘really’ bi because I’ve never done it before.”

Jules reached across the table and placed her hand on Melissa’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring pat. “You’re definitely not alone in feeling that way. A lot of us have been where you are now. It’s completely normal to feel nervous, especially when it’s all so new. But what’s important is that you’re here, willing to learn and grow.”

The green eyed woman felt a lump forming in her throat.

“I was married too," she confessed, tinged with bitterness and pain. “My ex-husband, Joe… he was a dickhead. He was always drunk, and he cheated on me more times than I can count. I stayed with him ‘cause I thought it was the ‘right’ thing to do, you know? Because of my family, because of my faith… But it was killing me inside. I was miserable, and it took me a long time to realize that I deserved better.”

“I’m sorry you went through that,” the youngest said sincerely. "No one deserves to be treated that way. But you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

As they spoke, Jules gave a subtle signal to a few women seated nearby. One by one, they began to gather around, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and encouragement. They formed a small semicircle, their presence a quiet testament to the power of community. Each woman seemed to carry her own story, her own struggles and triumphs, but there was no judgment here—only acceptance.

One of the women, a young woman with thoughtful eyes, spoke up first. “You know, sometimes the most important thing is to listen and learn without rushing. Every relationship is different. What works for one couple might not work for another.”

Another woman, slightly older, nodded in agreement. “And balancing personal space with intimacy is key. You have to be able to communicate openly about your needs and boundaries.”

Melissa nodded, absorbing their words like a sponge. The advice was practical, yes, but it was the honesty and openness in their voices that struck her most. They weren’t just talking at her—they were sharing pieces of themselves.

The conversation continued, flowing naturally between experiences of first loves, heartbreaks, and everything in between. They discussed how vital it was to take things slow, to be attuned to each other’s needs, to ask questions, and most of all, to approach intimacy with openness and care. Each woman offered something unique, from personal tips to deeply felt wisdom, and by the time the gathering wound down, Melissa felt an overwhelming sense of relief and empowerment.

As the women began to disperse, exchanging hugs and goodbyes, Melissa stood up from the table, feeling lighter than when she had walked in. Jules caught her eye one last time, giving her a reassuring nod.

“You’ve got this, Mel. Just remember to trust yourself, okay?”

She smiled, a genuine warmth spreading across her face for the first time that evening. “Thank you… really.”

As she stepped outside, the sun still hung low in the sky, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. For the first time in a long while, she felt hopeful. She wasn’t just carrying the weight of her past anymore—she was moving forward, armed with the knowledge, support, and confidence she’d gained from this little café and the women who had opened their hearts to her.

Melissa was ready to take the next steps in your relationship.

—

Wednesday was different for Melissa. From the moment she woke up, she could feel the weight of anticipation pressing down on her chest. After dropping her second graders—whom she affectionately called her “little eagles”—off at the gym for physical education, her day should have felt like any other. But instead, her mind raced, a nervous buzz thrumming beneath her skin. She spent the rest of the morning mentally rehearsing what she planned to say, her palms growing sweaty each time she replayed the words in her head.

By the time the lunch bell rang, her resolve had formed, but her body still trembled as she made her way to the cafeteria. She spotted you immediately, seated at a table with Jacob and Janine. The three of you were deep in discussion, laughing about the success of the recent library program project. The sound of your laughter, bright and carefree, made Melissa’s heart flutter. It grounded her, reminding her of why she wanted to do this in the first place.

But as she approached, her heart raced, and the familiar anxiety crept back in. What if she said the wrong thing? What if you didn’t want the same things she did? She had planned something special for the two of you tonight, something that would show you just how much she cared. She just hoped she wouldn’t trip over now that she was so close to making it real.

You were in the middle of recounting a funny story about one of your students when your gaze shifted, and you saw her walking toward the table. Instantly, your surroundings blurred; the laughter and conversation between Jacob and Janine faded into a distant hum as your focus zeroed in on her. Melissa wasn’t often nervous, but there was something in the way she carried herself now—vulnerable yet brave—that made your heart swell with affection.

She hesitated for a moment, standing a few feet away. Her green eyes flicked to the floor as though she was searching for the right words. Her hands, you noticed, were fidgeting at the hem of her blouse, tracing the fabric as if seeking comfort. She drew in a breath before speaking, her voice soft but laced with determination.

“I, um… I planned a romantic dinner for us tonight.” She was cautious, almost tentative. “Would you be able to come over to my place at seven, hon?”

Your heart warmed at her nervousness, and you gave her a soft, reassuring smile. “Of course, babe. I’d love to.” The tenderness in your tone seemed to ease her tension, and you couldn’t help but add. “Do you want me to bring anything? A bottle of your favorite white wine or—”

“No, just you and your beautiful body,” The second the words left her lips, her face flushed a deep, fiery red, the color climbing up her neck and spreading across her cheeks. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth as her eyes went wide in shock at her own boldness. It was as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just said, and the mortification was clear in the way her shoulders tensed. “Oh?”

Jacob and Janine, who had been standing just far enough away to give you both some privacy, exchanged a quick glance. Janine, ever the romantic, stifled a squeal of excitement, biting her hand to keep from bursting into giddy laughter. Jacob, always the supportive friend, gave Melissa a discreet thumbs-up, mouthing.“You’ve got this. Just breathe, Mel Mel.” Their silent gestures of support didn’t go unnoticed by Melissa, and despite the fiery embarrassment burning in her cheeks, she felt a rush of warmth and gratitude.

You, too, caught the brief exchange between your friends and chuckled, though your gaze quickly returned to Melissa. There was no mistaking the anxiety in her posture, but beyond that, you could see the flicker of something else—determination, excitement, maybe even hope. She was putting herself out there, more than she usually allowed herself to, and that touched you deeply.

Just me and my body, huh?” you teased gently. “That’s quite the invitation, Schemmenti. What’s the occasion?”

Melissa’s face, already flushed, deepened into an even darker shade of red, but there was a spark in her eyes now, a glimmer of resolve. She was nervous, yes, but she had made her decision. “I just thought it was time to switch things up a bit,” she replied, her voice steadier than before, though still laced with vulnerability. “You know, take a leap and maybe… celebrate us.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. This wasn’t just about a dinner; this was about moving forward, about her desire to deepen your relationship. You could see how much this moment mattered to her—the courage it took to say those words, to open herself up to the possibility of rejection, even if that fear was unfounded. You stood up and closed the distance between you. Without hesitation, you wrapped her in a tender hug, your arms encircling her in a protective embrace.

She stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden display of affection, especially in such a public setting. But as soon as she felt your warmth enveloping her, she relaxed, melting into your arms as if this was exactly where she was meant to be. The proximity, the way you held her so tightly yet so gently, made her realize how deeply she needed this, needed you.

“Baby, that sounds perfect,” you whispered softly, your breath warm against her ear. “I can’t wait for tonight.”

Melissa’s hold on you tightened as she buried her face in the crook of your neck, the anxiety that had gnawed at her all day slowly ebbing away. She pressed a soft kiss to your hair, the gesture filled with such tenderness it made your heart ache. With your bodies pressed together, she could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against hers, the calming syncopation reminding her that she was exactly where she belonged.

As you held her, you caught a glimpse of Janine and Jacob, who were watching from a distance with proud smiles. Janine gave Jacob a giddy nudge, her spirit high and full of excitement for you both. Even Mr. Johnson, who was still sweeping the cafeteria floor nearby, muttered something about “first love making messes,” though there was a small, almost imperceptible grin on his face.

Eventually, you pulled back just enough to look at her, your hands resting on her arms. “So, what’s on the menu tonight?” you asked, with playful curiosity. “I’m guessing it’s not just spaghetti and meatballs.”

Melissa’s lips twitched, the nervousness in her eyes slowly giving way to something warmer, more confident. “You’ll just have to wait and see,” she said, her voice teasing now. “But I can promise you, it’s going to be unforgettable.”

You grinned at her, the excitement for tonight bubbling up in your chest. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

As you stepped back and returned to your spot, Melissa lingered for a moment, watching you with a cute, almost dreamy expression on her face. The weight of the day’s nerves had finally lifted, replaced by a sense of joy and anticipation. With one last glance at you, she turned and headed back to her classroom, her heart feeling lighter than it had in months.

“You two are seriously the cutest couple ever,” Janine gushed, nudging you with her elbow as she sat back down.

Jacob nodded in agreement, a small, knowing smirk on his face. “She’s a lucky woman.”

You felt your face flush with warmth as you beamed softly, your thoughts already drifting to the evening ahead. “I’m the lucky one,” you murmured, more to yourself than to them.

—

The soft glow of candles flickered across the kitchen, casting gentle shadows that danced on the walls. Melissa had taken great care to set the table just right. The white linen tablecloth was smooth and immaculate, the polished silverware gleamed under the dim light, and delicate crystal glasses sparkled like tiny stars. A simple yet elegant centerpiece—a vase filled with fresh roses—added a touch of romance, their soft petals a gentle reminder of the evening’s purpose.

After a quick shower, Melissa stood in front of her bathroom mirror, wrapped in a thick towel as her reflection stared back at her. She untangled her hair with her fingers, letting the soft waves settle naturally around her shoulders. The evening felt charged with meaning, and as she pulled on a deep green dress that highlighted the rich color of her eyes, she couldn’t shake a sense of anticipation that made her fingers tremble. But before she slipped into the dress, Melissa lingered in her reflection, standing there in her bra and underwear.

Her fingers brushed lightly over the delicate lace of her bra before trailing up to her cross necklace. The small, familiar weight of it rested against her skin, a reminder of her faith and the strength she often sought from it. She gently kissed the cross, her lips touching the cool metal, as if grounding herself. Closing her eyes for a moment, she whispered, “I’ll be okay.” Her voice was steady, a quiet promise to herself. When she opened her eyes again, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She was ready—nervous, yes, but there was an undeniable sense of purpose in the evening that outweighed her fears.

The act of kissing her necklace and reminding herself that she would be okay brought a small but real sense of calm. She unclenched her jaw, letting herself breathe before stepping away from the mirror to pull on the deep green dress she had picked out.

Slipping into the dress, Melissa took one last look at herself, smoothing down the fabric and adjusting the straps. It wasn’t an extravagant gown—just a simple dress that made her feel beautiful in a way that mattered most to her. It hugged her curves in all the right places, the fabric complementing her fiery red hair and highlighting the vibrancy of her eyes. She added a light touch of makeup, just enough to enhance her natural features, before stepping back to admire the final result. A moment of calm settled over her, the flicker of nerves tempered by the reassurance she had given herself.

The house was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of lasagna, garlic, tomatoes, and bubbling cheese coming together in the oven. The familiar, comforting smells filled every corner of the room, making it feel warm, welcoming. Melissa stepped into the kitchen, checking on the lasagna and adjusting the heat, ensuring everything was perfect. The faint sound of the record player drifted in from the living room, where a playlist of your favorite songs played softly, romantic melodies filling the air with warmth and intimacy. Everything was set, and now, all she needed was for you to arrive.

The doorbell rang, cutting through the quiet with a soft chime, and Melissa’s heart skipped a beat. She stood still for a moment, gathering her courage. This evening wasn’t just about the food or the setting—it was about the leap she was taking, the love she wanted to show you. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her dress once more and made her way to the door. As her hand reached for the doorknob, she murmured to herself, “I’ll be okay,” one last time, her fingers briefly touching the cross around her neck.

When she opened the door and saw you standing there, her nerves melted away at the sight of your smile. You looked at her, taking in the beautiful green dress, her soft waves of hair, and the way her eyes shone with a mixture of happiness and vulnerability. There was a beat of silence, the world falling away for a moment as you exchanged a quiet, meaningful look.

“Hey, babe,” you said warmly, stepping forward and pulling her into a gentle hug. You could feel the slight tremble in her body as she relaxed into your embrace, her arms wrapping around you as if she had been waiting for this all day.

“Hey, mia principessa,” she whispered back softly, but there was a strength in it. You could sense how much this night meant to her, how much she wanted it to be special. “Come in. I’ve got everything ready.”

The smell of lasagna welcomed you as you stepped into the cozy warmth of her home. You glanced around, admiring the thoughtful touches—the candlelit table, the vase of roses, the soft music filling the space. It was intimate, and it spoke volumes about the care she had put into this night.

“Lissa, this is beautiful,” you said, turning back to her. “You did all of this?”

Melissa smiled, the nervous energy that had been building inside her easing just a little at your reaction. “Yeah, I wanted to do something special for us.”

You reached out, taking her hand and giving it a gentle peck. “It’s perfect.”

For the first time that evening, your girlfriend felt a deep sense of calm.

You followed Melissa to the dining table, where the soft glow of the candles illuminated the spread before you. The lasagna sat perfectly golden in its dish, steam rising from the surface, and the fresh roses at the center of the table filled the air with their delicate scent. She pulled out a chair for you, her hand brushing against your shoulder as you sat down.

The older woman served the lasagna with careful hands, the utensils clinking against the plates as she handed you your portion. As you took your first bite, the rich flavors of garlic, tomato, and cheese filled your mouth, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes for a second to savor it.

“This is delicious, Mel,” you said, smiling up at her as you set your fork down.

“I’m glad you like it,” she replied sweetly, still carrying that undercurrent of vulnerability that made your heart swell with affection. You could see how much she wanted tonight to be perfect, and it already was. The evening felt like a beautiful, slow unfolding of something deeper, something you both had been moving toward for a long time.

For a while, you ate in companionable silence, the music playing in the background as the evening settled into a comfortable rhythm. Melissa stole glances at you as you ate, and each time your eyes met, she smiled a little more freely. But there was something else too—an sexual tension hanging in the air between you, unspoken but unmistakable. It made every touch and every shared look feel heavier, more charged.

After a while, Melissa set her fork down, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her wine glass as she spoke, quieter now. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while…” Her eyes lifted to meet yours, and you could see the seriousness in them.

You frowned, sensing the shift in the conversation. “What is it?”

“I’ve been… I’ve been wanting to take the next step with us. I’m ready. For sex.”

The weight of her confession settled between you, and for a second, it felt like the world outside this moment ceased to exist. Your heart skipped a beat, the meaning behind her words sinking in. You knew how much this meant to her, how deeply she felt things, and how careful she was with every step in your relationship. And now, here she was, opening herself up, offering all of her to you in the most vulnerable way possible.

You reached across the table, your fingers finding hers, and she held onto you like she’d been waiting for this connection all night. “Mel,” you began. “I’ve been waiting for you to be ready. I’m here. I’ll always wait for you.”

A soft laugh touched her lips, her thumb brushing over your knuckles as she held your gaze. “I know,” she whispered, and then, as if the moment couldn’t hold itself back any longer, she leaned across the table and kissed you. Her lips were soft, warm, and full of promise. The kiss started gentle, but there was a sense of urgency behind it, a need she had been holding back for too long.

You stood up, gently pulling her with you, and without breaking the kiss, she wrapped her arms around your waist. The closeness felt intoxicating, the room spinning with the scent of roses, the warmth of the candlelight, and the taste of wine still on her lips.

Melissa pulled back slightly. “Come upstairs with me.”

You nodded, unable to speak, the weight of the moment settling in your chest. With her hand in yours, she led you out of the dining room and up the stairs, her grip firm but trembling ever so slightly. The steps felt endless, each one echoing the rapid beating of your heart, but when you reached the bedroom door, everything else faded away. It was just you and her, the world quiet and still, as if this moment had been waiting for you both for a long time.

After going upstairs hand in hand, you enter her bedroom. The environment is spacious and welcoming, with a palette of neutral tones that creates a soft and intimate atmosphere. The walls are painted a light, almost sandy beige, and there are several old photo frames hanging in an elegant pattern. The floor is covered in a large, shaggy rug in a soft brown tone that provides a pleasant contrast to the dark wooden floor.

The center of the room is dominated by a king size bed, covered with sheets and bedding set in beige tones. The pillows and duvet combine in different textures and subtle patterns, creating a feeling of comfort and simplicity.

You lay down on the bed, messing up the bedding set and pillowcases that were still fresh and spotless. Melissa sat on top of you, with her knees on either side of your hips, and began to unbutton the elegant blouse you were wearing. Her movement was careful, almost reverent, as if each blossoming bud revealed not just your skin, but also the vulnerability and trust you were building together.

“I’ve never looked like that,” she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your own in a long kiss that was both hesitant and eager. As her mouth lingered on yours, she noticed the way you slightly shudder beneath her touch, a clear sign of your nervousness. And how anxious you seemed, more so than she felt herself. “You’re trembling.”

Melissa reaches for the lamp, her digits brushing against its switch as she considers dimming the light to make the room more comfortable and less intimidating. But before she can, you reach out to stop her, grabbing her wrist feeling the subtle pulse of her beat beneath your touch.

“No, I want to see you too,” you peel off your blouse, followed by your pants and underwear, letting them fall to the floor in a silent haze.

The older woman gulps and bobs her throat and starts to undress too. Her long green dress fell away in soft folds to the edge of the king size bed, followed by the delicate unfastening of her bra, revealing her full, supple and delicious boobs. Their natural weight makes them sway slightly and her nipples, a dusky rose, stood erect in the cool air. Her panties followed, slipping down her legs to reveal her glistening, damp center with some reddish, slightly trimmed pubic hair above her mound that was a stark contrast to the smooth milky white of her thighs.

For a fleeting second, doubt and insecurity crept in. She wondered if you saw her as beautiful or if the passage of time, with its subtle marks on her skin—fine lines around her eyes and mouth, the gentle curve of age. Arms flaccid and a little droopy, and the fact that she is not completely shaved underneath—might be off-putting. The decades that had shaped her were etched into her form, a testament to experiences and moments lived, but she questioned if they would overshadow the intimacy of the present.

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the side, overwhelmed by the thought of you finding her less than desirable, maybe even disgusting like Joe did when they used to have sex in their marriage years. The idea of her imperfections being too much to bear made her shiver with apprehension, and unexpected tears dropped into her cheeks as those thoughts almost brought her to the brink of crying.

In that vulnerable instant, Melissa searched for any sign of disapproval, any hint that the years might have dimmed her allure. But as your gaze locked with hers, she saw something entirely different—an intense, unspoken admiration, a hunger that seemed to pierce through her insecurities. This recognition of her allure gave her the courage to continue.

“You’re so beautiful, bambina.” She tilted her head, her swollen lips meeting yours again in a passionate kiss that deepened as she felt your response. Your hands roamed over her back, feeling the heat of her skin and the subtle firmness of her muscles. Her auburn hair fell around her shoulders, cascading like a dark waterfall that framed her face and partially covered her chest. The sight of her, disheveled and beautiful, made you catch your oxygen.

Melissa lets her thumbs glide down your abdomen, feeling the softness of your flesh beneath her fingertips while she trails imaginary patterns. That only she can see. She squeezes your breasts gently before she leans in to nip at your earlobe. There’s a hunger in the way she worships you, a need to feel you, to taste you.

She begins to kiss her way down your neck, her lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. When she reaches your boobs, she pauses for a moment, her breath ghosting over your nipples before she takes one into her mouth slowly. The feeling sends a shiver down your body, and you can’t help the loud whimper that escapes your lips.

“That feels so good. Don’t stop. Suck harder,” you gasped, unable to contain the fervent need building inside you.

The redhead hums in response, her gaze locked onto yours as she continues to suckle on your hardened peak. There’s something almost reverent in the way she’s looking at you, as though she’s in awe of the effect she’s having on you. Her hair, now tousled and wild, brushed against your skin like a silken curtain. You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of her lips on your sensitive areas, and opened your mouth to draw in deep, steady breaths, trying to ground yourself amidst the swirling sensations.

She traces a slow, deliberate path down your body, her lips grazing the curve of your waist, until she’s almost between your legs. Her hands rest on your thighs, gently urging them apart, and you feel the smirk ghosting over your most intimate area. When she parted your legs, her eyes widened slightly at the sight of your wetness dripping down and the intoxicating smell that made her drool.

“Can I put my mouth on you?”

“Please.”

Melissa’s hands move to your hips, and with a deliberate, almost possessive grip, she pushes you down against the mattress, pinning you in place. The bed creaks softly beneath you, but all you can focus on is the way her mouth hovers just above your aching pussy.

She lowers herself between your thighs, her breath hot against your skin as she leans in, her mouth finally making contact. The first contact of her tongue against your wet folds is electrifying, a shiver running down your spine. She’s never felt anything like this—so raw, so intimate. The sensation of your taste, warm and sweet on her tongue, ignites something deep within her.

The older woman begins to lick through your wetness, her movements grow more confident, more assured. Her face becomes slick with your arousal, but she doesn’t care—if anything, it only drives her to delve deeper, to explore every inch of you with her warm mouth. The soft slurping and suckling sounds she makes while she eats you out, along with guttural groans of satisfaction vibrating against your most sensitive spots muffled against your folds, tell you everything; how much Melissa is enjoying this. Amplifying the pleasure coursing through you. And you can’t help but moan, your fingers tangling in her hair, urging her closer.

“Oh, Lissa…go faster,” you murmur breathy, trying to guide her with gentle encouragement. “Just like that, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

She’s teasing your clit now, her tongue flicking over it teasing it with featherlight strokes that makes your hips buck involuntarily. She seems to be memorizing, learning and responding to your every movement, every sound. You can feel her fingers hovering at your entrance, the pads of her tips brushing teasingly against your folds. The need for more—more of her, more of everything—builds inside you like a tidal wave.

“Fingers. Use them to fill me up.”

Two fingers slide inside you easily, the heat and slickness enveloping her in a way that makes her gasp. The knowledge that she’s the one making you feel this way, that she’s the cause of your pleasure, is almost overwhelming for her. She starts to pump her fingers, slow and deep, crooking them just right to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

“Fuck, hon,” Melissa groans. “You’re so tight… so fucking good.”

“Mhhm.”

The older woman intensifies her pace, her fingers moving faster, deeper, her thumb circling your clit in slow, lazy circles. Her brow furrows in concentration as she continues.

The pressure builds rapidly, and your hips buck against her hand, your need growing more urgent with every passing second. Her eyes stay locked on your face, absorbing each scream and tremor that escapes you, her lips parting slightly as she watches your pleasure build.

“You feel so good,” she murmurs, never letting up the pace. “Are you close?”

Your breath catches, the coil tightening inside you. “I’m so so close, please let me come,” you beg, your voice trembling as you ride the edge.

A flicker of confidence crosses her face as she leans closer, her thumb pressing harder against your clit, her fingers driving deeper. “Cum for me,” she whispers, laced with longing. “I want to feel you, pretty girl.”

That command, spoken so softly but filled with intent, sends you spiraling. With a final, perfect stroke, you fall over the edge, your body arching as the pleasure crashes through you, wave after wave. Your whines grow louder, desperate, as Melissa guides you through the bliss.

She keeps going, drawing out every shudder and whimper until you’re completely undone beneath her. Only then does she slowly withdraw her fingers, leaving you trembling and breathless.

Collapsing against you, her face finds the crook of your neck, her figure trembling with emotion. It takes a moment to realize she’s crying, low sobs muffled against you.

“I did it?” she breaks in disbelief. “I made you feel good… I can’t believe I did it.”

You wrap your arms around her, pulling her close. “You did, baby,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You were perfect.”

Melissa shakes her head slightly, still clinging to you. “I was so scared I’d mess it up… but I did it.”

You gently lift her chin, forcing her to look at you. Her emerald eyes are red and glistening with tears, but the satisfaction you see there only makes your love for her grow stronger. You cup her face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over her cheeks to wipe away the tears.

She lets out a shaky breath, her curvaceous body leaning into yours as if seeking reassurance. Her pink lips brush over yours in a tender, almost desperate kiss. Between soft pecks, you speak against her lips, “You’re safe. I love you. You're safe with me.”

She gives you a small, tearful smile before pressing kisses to your chest, resting her head there as if she never wants to let go.

And you don’t want her to. Not ever.

[hawkinsbnbg]

if only you're not mine

Written for Steddie Bingo prompt: Unhappy Ending | rated: T | tags: hurt no comfort, mutual pining, unrequited love, miscommunication, unreliable narrator | @steddiebingo | ao3

The first time Steve confessed his feelings for him, Eddie had run away. He kept doing so the second time, the third time, and many other times.

He kept running away from Steve's affection and clumsy (endearing) attempts to get to his heart because he didn't believe Eddie Munson could have nice things. And surely, Steve Harrington liking boys must be the biggest joke in history. No one that perfect could be gay for Eddie of all people.

Hell nah, Eddie could never be that lucky. He wasn't destined for nice things, let alone Steve Harrington. He was pretty sure Steve was just going through a phase and wanting to explore the uncharted territory that a cookie-cutter poster boy had never dared to trespass before. Which was fine and dandy and certainly not Eddie's problem.

He refused to be just an experiment and then tossed aside like an old toy once Steve was done playing. So he didn't feel at all guilty when he kept turning Steve down and watching those pretty eyes got dimmer and dimmer after each rejection.

He definitely felt disappointed vindicated, though, when Steve finally gave up and avoided him every time they all hung out together with their joined friend group. No one breathed a word about Steve's broken heart, not in front of Eddie at least.

But Robin had pulled him aside, leveled him with a patient look that could rival Wayne's and asked him Why?

Eddie was surprised enough about her not chewing him out for breaking her best friend's heart that he didn't hesitate to answer her question. He expected anger, but she just shook her head with a tired sigh and suddenly, he felt like he had been going at this all wrong.

"The way I see it, you were just being a coward, Munson." was all she said. It had stung, but not enough for Eddie to abandon his doctrines. After all, he had been right about Steve and managed to prevent Steve from fucking up their precious friendship with his confused feelings.

"Wait!" He faltered when she paused and glanced back at him. "... Are we still friends?"

"Yeah, but give us time," she smiled sadly. Because it had always been SteveRobin. When his heart broke, so did hers.

Standing there, he watched Robin made her way to Steve's side. He watched her say something to their golden boy, he watched Steve laugh, not as bright as before, but still beautiful all the same.

And strangely, Eddie felt an ache in his chest, knowing he had dampened that smile.

Things with Steve weren't as bad as he had feared.

Of course, there were awkward and tense moments when Steve could barely stay in the same room as him or talk to him properly. But times passed; days became weeks, weeks became months, months became years; and before Eddie knew it, Steve was able to laugh freely around him again.

He could confidently say that things had gone back to normal. Well, aside from the few friendly claps and squeezes on the back and shoulders, Steve always kept him at his arm's length. Which Eddie didn't mind at all. (Or so he would like to think.)

It did bother him, however, when Steve still stayed perfectly single after all those years. And it might be a little bit egotistical on his part to jump to assumptions but—

Robin had assured him that it had nothing to do with him. That Steve was just having a hard time finding his significant other because these days, everyone's biggest fear was commitment.

Eddie pretended that he didn't wish for the woman who would one day steal Steve's heart to never appear.

On one sunny day, Steve had brought home a man. His name is Carlos, Steve had said. He's my boyfriend, Steve had smiled, looking happy. So much happier than any moment he spent with Eddie.

Carlos was nothing like Eddie or Steve. He was smart and funny in his own way. His hair wasn't long or curly. It was dyed red and only long enough for a manbun. He didn't wear much jewelry, just a couple of colorful bracelets and Steve's mood ring. His eyes were dark green and his skin was fair. His teeth weren't as straight and white as Steve's, but they still looked fine.

Carlos was neither a metalhead nor a mainstream listener. He didn't follow fashionable or controversial style. He was allergic to seafood but would try anything given to him at least once. His taste in everything seemed to vary depending on his moods, which was ridiculous, but Steve found that interesting.

And yet, Eddie still held onto his belief that Steve was just going through another phase. That Carlos wouldn't last until next month.

But several months rolled by and Carlos was still there. He was welcomed warmly into their friend group, getting along super well with the kids and Robin and everyone, gaining the approval of all the parental figures in Steve's life.

Most importantly, he made Steve smile a lot. He loved Steve, infatuated even, and no one—including Eddie—could deny that fact. The two of them were disgustingly in love and made for each other.

Eddie hated it.

He hated it and everyone but Steve could see his resentment and bitterness clear as day. Robin—always the protective mama bear when it came to her platonic soulmate—had warned him to not fuck it up for Steve. Although the others pitied him, he knew they all agreed that he had brought everything on himself.

It didn't feel right, he thought during his lone hours at night, tossing around on his cold bed and staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. He didn't dare to touch even a drop of liquor, fearing what he might do and wouldn't do if he got too drunk. He couldn't smoke, either. That shit had become too expensive for his health.

So he called Wayne.

"You've been running for so long, Ed," Wayne said as delicately as possible. But it still choked him up. Four years ago, Robin had told him the same thing.

"But Wayne," he sniffled, his grip trembling around the phone. Almost thirty and still felt like a child in front of his uncle. "I don't know how to stop."

"Son," Wayne sighed, weary. "You've already stopped."

And it didn't matter anymore.

The day Steve got married to Carlos was a beautiful day.

Eddie had stood on the side, watching Steve walking down the aisle in Hopper's arm. He looked like a handsome prince in his creamy white suit. Eddie smiled and chatted with the other guests, nodding along when they gushed about how beautiful the couple was and clapping his hands dutifully when the said couple kissed after exchanging their vows and rings.

Standing beside him, Robin gave him a flute of champagne which he drained in one big gulp.

After the ceremony, when everyone had scattered around and left only Eddie at the friend-family table, Steve had flopped down beside him with an arm thrown over his shoulder. His breath was warm, smelling of bubbly champagne and sweet desserts when he leaned in close, tickling Eddie's ear with his giggle.

"You're drunk, angel," he said, quiet to not attract unwanted attention. He couldn't help but want to keep Steve to himself a little while longer even though it might risk Carlos knocking his teeth in. His hand was about to land on Steve's thigh when Steve started speaking.

"Thank you."

Eddie froze. He turned to look at Steve, and was startled to find those hazel eyes already watching him, looking far more sober than he expected.

"What for?" Distantly, he heard himself ask.

And like the sun, Steve beamed at him.

"For helping me realize love could be found anywhere as long as I don't give up."

It felt like a slap on the face. The fucking nail in the coffin.

It felt like a betrayal.

Eddie took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"You're welcome," he smiled. His heart was cold and his face was numb.

Eddie wished he never met Steve Harrington. He wished he never fell in love.

But he was already too late.

[verstappensrealwife]

A Second Chance - Lando Norris x Reader

[lando norris masterlist  / f1 masterlist]

ʚɞ in which... reader gives lando one more chance to prove his love. ʚɞ angst, fluff  ⋆⭒˚.⋆ 1300 words ʚɞ warnings: fighting, swearing. lots of time cuts

-୨♡୧-

He'd been distant for months, seemingly indifferent to your final year of university. The rollercoaster of emotions, from being ignored to fervent pleas for your company, only to be met with anger when you prioritise your studies, has left you drained. His words, oscillating between confusion and outright rejection, always ended abruptly.

His words pierced the air like daggers, each sentence laden with frustration and desperation. "I don’t understand why you won’t spend time with me?" he'd lament, his voice tinged with a sense of betrayal. And then, in a sudden shift of tone, he'd declare, "No, Y/N, I don’t want to see anyone right now!" The finality in his words left no room for negotiation as he abruptly severed the connection, leaving you alone with the weight of his words echoing in your ears.

You were exhausted. of university stress, incessant arguments, and endless nights. Exhausted of him.

Now in Australia, supporting your boyfriend, you followed quietly, the aftermath of yet another weekend argument hanging in the air. But amidst the turmoil, the racetrack thrived. Fans flooded the grandstands, eager for the excitement about to unfold.

As you stepped into the F1 paddock in Australia, a vibrant tapestry of sights and sounds enveloped you. The air was alive with the hum of engines revving in the distance, the scent of burnt rubber mingling with the faint aroma of fuel. Colourful team banners fluttered in the breeze, each one a testament to the fierce competition that awaited on the track.

Amidst the hustle and bustle, you caught glimpses of mechanics working feverishly on sleek race cars, their metallic surfaces gleaming under the bright Australian sun. Everywhere you looked, there was a sense of purpose and urgency, as teams strategized and drivers prepared for the challenge ahead.

Celebrities and VIP guests mingled with team personnel, their animated conversations punctuated by bursts of laughter and the occasional roar of an engine. The paddock buzzed with energy, a palpable anticipation that hung in the air like static electricity.

In the distance, the grandstands loomed large, a sea of eager faces eagerly awaiting the spectacle that was about to unfold. It was a scene of controlled chaos, where every detail was meticulously orchestrated in pursuit of victory on the track.

After a great race from your boyfriend, him placing P3, you both went back to the hotel to get ready for some after party.“And umm, i was wondering if you were gonna come to my graduation. I checked and it’s not during a race weekend and-”

You were cut short by him hurrying you out the door, “Yeah, baby, ill be there,” He said dismissively and pushing you quickly towards the exit of the hotel.

The anticipation hung heavy in the air, coiling around you like a relentless serpent as you stood on the precipice of your greatest moment yet. Each passing second felt like an eternity, nerves tightening their grip on your every fibre, threatening to unravel your composure.

With each beat of your heart, the tremor of excitement mingled with a hint of apprehension, sending shivers down your spine. This was the culmination of years of hard work, the apex of your academic journey, and the weight of its significance bore down upon you like an invisible burden.

"Y/N Y/L/N!"

With steady steps, you ascended the stage, eyes scanning the crowd, eager to spot familiar faces among the sea of spectators, parents, cousins, aunts, uncles. all there to witness your triumph. Yet, amid the sea of loved ones, an empty seat caught your eye, causing a fleeting pang of disappointment to flicker across your expression. Swiftly, you masked it behind a determined facade as you exchanged pleasantries, accepted accolades, and grasped the coveted parchment wrapped in ribbon before gracefully departing the stage.

Of course, he didn’t show, why would he?

-

And of course a screaming match erupted between you two. 

“It was one fucking ask for you to come and you were what?!”

“S-streaming…” God he knew he fucked up.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” You shouted, “Do you not care about my accomplishments anymore or is it just your own you care about now?”

He sighed, clearly getting agitated, “Fuck- Of course not! But its not like youre there for mine either!”

You scoffed incredulously, was he serious? “Because- Lando- I have a fucking job, I have school!”

“And thats more important than me?”

“When did i say that? ugh do you know what?” You stopped yourself and walked off from the kitchen to his bedroom, taking each piece of what you owned with you. Shoving it all in a bag that was clearly too small to fit it all but in your rage you managed to get it all in.

He panicked, “What - what are you doing..”

“Leaving.”

And he didn’t stop you.

-

-

You were single now, and happy.

He was single now, and not so happy.

God, how he missed you. He took you for granted, treated you wrong, and all he wanted was you back.

Even his own friends were telling him how much he fucked up.

And he knew it.

He especially knew it when he saw you, shyly walking around the silverstone pits with your best friends who were in love with the sport. He didn’t believe it at first, but you were here! Really here!

“Y/N!” He couldn’t control his own mouth, or legs as he ran over to you.

You turned around to see the messy brown hair and neon orange fireproofs. He was a sight for sore eyes. Still beautiful- probably more than before.

“Oh. hi Lan,” You smiled. Lan. He wasn’t completely in the dog house. “How’ve you been, heard you got with Joao’s girlfriend,” You said.

“No!” He exclaimed, “I - I meant no,”, It got quiet after that, he needed to say something- anything! “Because i love you still-”

As he stumbled over his words, the world around them seemed to fade into the background, consumed by the intensity of your encounter. The Silverstone pits buzzed with activity, mechanics tinkering with race cars, the distant roar of engines serving as a constant backdrop to their conversation.

You stared blankly at him. Your friends were long gone now. And you couldn’t think of anywords than “Okay.” OKAY? It was not okay! “I- Well- same but we can’t…”

“We can,” He interrupted, “Ok, we can, I’ll prove it. Make it up to you in any way you want, please baby”And as he pleaded for another chance, the world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for your response. It was a moment suspended in time, where the lines between love and longing blurred against the backdrop of the racing world, leaving them both teetering on the edge of uncertainty.

“Take me on a date and we’ll see,”

“Yes! Definitely!” He said, about to run off with you when he remembered the race- “Just after this race, I promise!”

“I’ll be waiting,” You bite back a smile at him as he giddily runs off towards his car

el fin 

BLEHHH posting quickly before i leave the house

[kindlyduhh]

A Greedy Heart pt.1

You can also read it on my ao3 page !!

Content warnings: fem!reader, fluff, gets suggestive towards the end

Word count: 4.5K

Mammon has been thinking about confeesing to you about his feeling but just cant find the right time. After some miscommunications he finally finds the guts the say what was on his mind...

Once again, it was a typical day in the devildom and you and Mammon were spending time together in your room. He was sitting on your bed and you were laying next to him.

You loved hanging out with mammon, his presence calms you down and you were happy that mammon also tried to hang out with you even though he acts nonchalant as he tried to seem like he didn't care, but you always saw through him, how much he’d blush every time you agree to hang out, and it is truly adorable.

Normally you guys would just joke around or mammon would make a plan to steal Lucifer's credit card again, but he was unusually quiet today just scrolling on his D.D.D.

You could clearly see that mammon wanted to say something that was on his mind since he kept glancing at you, but he wasn't saying anything. 

“Mammon, are you alright?” knowing that if you don't ask him directly, he definitely wouldn't talk about whatever was bothering him.

“Yea, I'm fine…” he huffs while ruffling his beautiful white hair.

The whole day, he seemed unusually distant, casting frequent glances your way with a grumpy expression. It was obvious that something was bugging him, but he was being stubborn as usual. 

“Oh c'mon mammon, I know something is up… I promise I won't judge you or anything like that.” you said in a reassuring tone, his eyes softened ever so slightly.

You could see that he was struggling to express himself, as people had belittled him every time he voiced his thoughts, calling him a scumbag or a money grubber. It pained your heart to witness his struggle.

Mammon didn't understand why you were this kind. You were so gentle and caring, which was a thing he wasn't used to. 

He got used to your affection so much since the day that you came to devildom that when you weren't around; he felt alone and jealous every time you hung out with the other brothers, which was a feeling he hated.

Mammon's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to find the courage to express his feelings. He had been holding them in for so long, but it was becoming harder and harder to keep them hidden. 

Every time he looked at you, his heart ached with the unsaid words. He knew he had to speak up, but the fear of rejection and judgment held him back.

"Ugh, I dunno..." Mammon started to speak while fidgeting with his hands, but before he could finish, Levi suddenly burst into the room without bothering to knock on the door.

 “Yo y/n, the game that we were waiting for is out! c’mon let's go, we have to play it now.” Levi says enthusiastically. You and Levi were waiting for this game for a really long time and you have promised him that you would play it together.

Mammon was filled with a mix of disappointment and anger as Levi interrupted, but he tried to keep his facial expressions neutral. "Great, just great. " He couldn't shake off the regret and frustration that he had almost let himself be vulnerable.

"Levi, can you wait just for a second? I'll be in your room in a minute, okay?" You slightly get up from the bed and glance at Mammon, noticing that he was clearly irritated that Levi entered the room just when he was about to speak. 

“Oh c'mon y/n, if we don't start playing now, we might miss the free gacha pulls, and it's not like you guys are doing anything, right?” Levi explains, it's clear that he isn't gonna give up.

As Mammon slowly got up from your bed, you could sense his emotional walls building up again, his attempt to act nonchalant.

“Hey where are you going? You were gonna say something, right?” trying to convince mammon to stay, but when your eyes met with his, you could see the disappointment and regret in his eyes. You get even more confused by his actions.

“It's nothin really, ya guys can play your games or whatever… I need to go somewhere, anyway.” Mammon tries to smile as he masks away his feelings.

Your heart breaks at how cold he is being. He wasn't even looking at you anymore. You start to feel even more anxious overthinking everything you did today.

Mammon murmurs under his breath “bye then…” He quickly leaves your room, not even giving you a chance to say goodbye.

You try to act like you are fine. “Well, let's play our game right.” You sigh while smiling at Levi since you didn't want to worry him about anything. He nods and starts walking to his room while talking about how excited he was about the game as you try not to think about mammon.

⋆⋅⛧⋅⋆

It was midnight now, the dim light of the devildom brightening the room ever so slightly as you say goodnight to Levi. He was accustomed to staying up late, so you knew he'd likely keep playing the game.

You had a headache, so you held the bridge of your nose to relieve it slightly, but it didn't work. Your mind wandered about mammon the whole night and you couldn't even focus on the game anymore.

You anxiously walk through the corridor while thinking about going to mammon’s room. You weren't sure if he was awake or this was a good idea, but you were seriously worried if you said something to upset him and the worrying was eating you every minute passing by.

You finally come to his room just waiting in front of the door anxiously to have some courage to knock on the door. You could hear your heart beating in your whole body and you think to yourself why you were this nervous. 

You sigh and finally knock on the door with shaky hands. As you wait in front of the door, you get even more self conscious about what you were doing. This was a mistake, and you were probably gonna wake mammon in the middle of the night for nothing. 

You slightly get relieved when he doesn't open the door. Of course, he was sleeping. It was really late. As you turn away and make your way to your room, you pick up on the faint sound of a door opening.

“Y/n… what are ya doin here?” Mammon says, his voice sounds sleepy. You curse yourself under your breath for waking him up for something so stupid.

You turned to him to apologize, but froze the moment you saw him. Your eyes open wider and you can feel your face heating up. 

He was only wearing gray sweatpants, leaving his toned, bare chest exposed to the dim moonlight. The sight was mesmerizing as you tried to tear your gaze away, but your eyes were glued to his sculpted form. You gulped and tried to not look at him like a creep, looking everywhere but him as you blushed harder.

And that's when he realized that he wasn't wearing any shirt. His face started to get even redder than yours somehow as he cleared his throat. “S-sorry I just woke up… I'll go put on a shirt”

Without thinking, you grab his arm to stop him. Noticing his shocked expression, you quickly release his arm, feeling awkward as you stand fidgeting with your hands.

“U-um, it's fine. I shouldn't even come here. I'm sorry for waking you. It's nothing important. You should just go to sleep,” you say awkwardly while looking down. You couldn't even look at his face because of how embarrassed you are.  

Mammon feels slightly upset about the way you were hiding your face, even though it's been just a few hours since he already missed seeing your beautiful face. 

His arm was still tingling from your touch. Just from that quick contact, he felt himself melting as he bit his bottom lip.

“Nah, it's fine, I'm awake now so ya might as well say it right” He scratched the back of his neck as he gestured to you to come to his room.

Mammon thought of you the entire night as he tried to sleep. He was so jealous of Levi since he got to spend some time with you.

His stomach twisted the entire night, his imagination consumed by the sight of you and Levi sitting next to each other closely. It should be him next to you, not Levi or any of his brothers. He was your first demon, not them.

And to his luck, he heard you knocking on the door. When he saw your face, the relief he felt made him feel like he can finally breathe again.

He slowly walked to his couch and grabbed the shirt laying down there. He quickly put on the shirt, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. 

While wearing his shirt, he caught you glancing at his abs. He wasn't sure if you were checking him out, but the thought of it made his heart beat faster.

You both plump onto the couch. There is an awkward energy in the air. You both stay quiet for a bit, then you awkwardly clear your throat.

“Did I said something that upset you?” you blurt out suddenly while looking down at the floor.

Mammon looks confused, not understanding why you would ask that. You never said something that upset him, hell it was the opposite all the time.

Mammon felt a pang of unease when you refused to meet his gaze. He yearned for your attention, craving the way your eyes would light up as you looked at him. "Hey, why are ya asking that? Of course ya didn't," he reiterated, trying to catch your gaze. 

"What made ya think that, anyway?" His heart ached as he longed for the connection he had with you, the way you always gave him your undivided attention and made his stomach do flips.

You ran your hand through your hair out of frustration, realizing you sounded a bit foolish. "Umm... I'm not sure," you began, trying to find the right words. "You just seemed off today, and you stormed off when Levi came to my room. I was worried I did something wrong." 

Your voice trailed off as you exhaled, feeling a bit embarrassed by how insignificant your worries seemed now that you said them out loud.

Mammon's heart sank when he realized that he had made you worried. He curses himself for being such an idiot. There you were worrying for him and all it was because he was foolishly scared of your reaction.

“Oi c’mon will ya look at me.” he huffs. There is a tint of worry in his voice as he speaks. The only thing he wants is for you to understand you didn't do anything wrong.

As you finally met his gaze, something in the air shifted. You noticed a glimmer of vulnerability in his golden eyes that made your heart skip a beat. His usual cockiness was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a rare moment of sincerity.

“Ya didn't do anything wrong, ya dummy. Ya don't need to worry about me.” He reached out his hand to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. 

Your breath hitched as Mammon's hand made gentle contact with your hair, grazing your skin softly. The brief touch sent a jolt through your body, making you dizzy with a newfound craving for more.

His touch felt incredibly soft and tender, and you found yourself subconsciously leaning into it, silently wanting more of the sensation. As he spoke, his words seemed to get lost in your mind, overpowered by the overwhelming feeling of butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Your voice quivered as you spoke, expressing your concern for Mammon. "But I do worry about you," you said, your words laced with a hint of desperation. 

"If you talk to me, maybe I can help you somehow. Did Lucifer lecture you again, or is it those witches bothering you?" You hoped that he would finally open up and let you in, to allow you to at least try to comfort him‌.

Mammon felt a pang of guilt as he heard the desperation in your voice. He didn’t mean to make you worry, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit the real reason behind his sour mood.

“Aw, ya worry too much about me, ya know that?” he tried to deflect, flashing a cocky smile. “I’m a tough demon, ya know? Nothin’ can get me down.”

This is typical Mammon behavior of trying to hide his feelings and act nonchalant, even though he’s actually touched by your worry about him.

Your frustration was evident as you let out a sigh, not swayed by Mammon's attempts to dismiss your concern. Surprisingly, a newfound boldness washed over you, and you reached out, gently grasping his hand in a reassuring grip. You held it firmly, trying to convey your care through your touch.

"Mammon, it's okay to admit when you're feeling down or upset. You don't always have to put on a tough act, especially not with me. I care about you, and I want to understand what's been bothering you."

Mammon's eyes widened slightly, clearly surprised by your honesty. He hadn't expected you to be so direct about it. He hesitated for a moment, not used to talking about his feelings or problems, but the genuine concern in your voice made him feel like he couldn't keep you in the dark anymore.

He let out a deep sigh, his shoulders drooping slightly. "It's not Lucifer or the witches," he muttered, looking away from you. "I actually…" He paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. 

Mammon takes a deep breath, preparing himself to reveal what's been on his mind. "There's something I've been wanting to talk to ya about," he begins, his tone a bit hesitant.

Your heart skips a beat, anticipation swelling within you. Whatever it is Mammon wanted to talk about, it seems serious. You brace yourself, ready to listen intently.

He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, clearly nervous about what he was about to say.

"But I'm not good with this kind of stuff, ya know? Talking about feelings and whatnot." He chuckled weakly.

As you gently squeezed his hand, Mammon felt a shiver run down his spine. The feeling of your soft touch on his skin was like electricity coursing through his body, filling him with an inexplicable sense of comfort and excitement. 

It was as if your touch alone had the power to calm his nerves and give him the courage to finally say what was on his mind. With a deep breath, he gathered his thoughts and found the courage to speak.

Mammon took a deep breath, his heart still racing as he looked at you with a mixture of vulnerability and determination.

“I…” he began, but the words got stuck in his throat. He let out a shaky exhale and tried again. “Promise me ya won’t laugh, okay?”

You ran your thumb over his knuckles gently, trying to reassure him that it was okay to open up to you. “I swear on my life I won't laugh Mammon” trying to show how serious you were about his feelings.

He looks at you intently, his expression a mix of emotions."You know how I’m always calling you my human, right?" he starts, his voice a bit shaky.

He looks away for a moment, his eyes darting around the room before finally meeting yours again."And how I always want to be around you and want your attention?" he continues, fidgeting with his shirt hem again.

Oh. OH. Your heart skipped a beat as Mammon mentioned how he always wants to be around you and wants your attention. A wave of realization washed over you, and you started to piece together what he was trying to say.

Your mind races as you process his words, feeling a mix of emotions. Part of you is surprised by Mammon's vulnerability, as he's usually so guarded and closed off. Another part of you is thrilled, the idea that Mammon might be confessing his feelings to you, stirring up a whirlwind of excitement and nervousness.

Mammon takes a deep breath and looks directly into your eyes, his expression a mixture of nervousness and determination.

"I've been trying to figure out how to say this, but I'll just say it straight out." He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts and mustering his courage.

"I... I like ya, okay? Like a lot. And not in the ‘friend’ way, but in the ‘I can’t stop thinkin’ about ya, miss ya when yer not around, wanna spend all my time with ya’ kinda way."

Mammon's stomach twists as he confesses. He can't believe he actually said it. The intrusive thoughts start spinning in his mind as he feels his heart beat getting faster. What if you didn't like him? If so, would this ruin the relationship you had with him?

He feels dizzy as he waits for your response while still feeling like he made a mistake by opening up to you. What if he lost you because of his confession? Why couldn't he be content with just your friendship? Why did he have to be so greedy?

As these thoughts pass around his mind, you gently put your hand on his cheek. There is a tint of redness on your face. He can barely see it under the dim moonlight. “You like me… you mean it?” your voice trembling slightly. You felt your heart beat getting faster at his words.

You never thought that Mammon would confess one day. Of course, you both acted flirty from time to time, but whenever it felt too serious or real, he find a way to get away from the situation, acting like he had no feelings towards you. 

Mammon's voice trembles, “I umm… I-I do mean it alright…”. His face is fully red now as he tries to not meet your gaze. He huffs while scratching the back of his neck, clearly frustrated about being this vulnerable.

“I-Its ‘kay if ya don't feel the same ı just… gahh i dunno I thought I should tell ya or somethin’ I know I'm being an idiot now so it's fine if ya wanna leave or whatever…” He mumbles under his breath, glancing at you just for a second. The way he looks at you with a glint of desperation, like you are gonna leave him for being vulnerable.

You put both of your hands on Mammon’s cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. His eyes widen as you get slightly closer to his face. “Mammon, you're not being an idiot… and ı would never leave you, okay…” you whisper while caressing his cheek gently.

He closes his eyes as he feels your touch. It's so soft and tender and he feels dizzy from the sensation. Without realizing, he nuzzles to your hand as he sighs.

He looks so beautiful between your hands, his eyes closed. He looks like a painting as his white hair slightly glows under the dim moonlight. And you finally find the courage to say what is in your heart.

“I-I like you too Mammon… like a lot. Every time I look at you, my heart starts to beat faster like it's gonna burst out of my chest,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you speak.

Mammon quickly opens his eyes when he hears your word. Did you say you liked him? No way you said that right. Did you say it back because you didn't want to upset him?

“Ya do? are ya sure bout it… ya don't have to say it back just because you don't want to upset me or whatever yer thinking, ‘key.” He mumbles under his breath. Barely meeting your gaze.

You tilt his head to face you gently, wanting to convince him about your feelings. “Of course I'm sure mams… ı wouldn't lie about my feelings, especially to you. I like you so much that I want to be next to you all the time… ı love your smile, ı love talking to you, I love that when you get excited about something you get even louder,” you chuckle "and I love you Mammon…”

His brain stops for a second. The way you talk about him is so sweet as he melts at your every word. He is not used to this type of tenderness and he might get addicted to it if you keep going like this.

As Mammon's brain processes the words you just spoke, his heart fills with a mixture of shock and happiness. 

It's like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders after expressing his feelings for you, and now, hearing you say you feel the same... he can't contain his emotions any longer.

He gazes intently into your eyes, his breathing shaky as he leans closer to you.

"Can I...?" he whispers, his gaze flickering down to your lips 

You nod as your voice shivers “yeah…” your heart is beating faster and faster while he places his hands on your cheek and finally closes that little gap between you two.

As his lips gently met yours, a rush of sensations washed over you. It was a sweet and tender kiss, full of longing and desire. Mammon's hand trembled gently against your cheek as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer with his other hand.

He couldn't believe this was happening. He felt even more dizzy as your hands wandered around his body. Your soft hand gliding against his hair made him feel euphoric as you deepened the kiss.

You were kissing him with a hunger even you didn't know existed. The way you were kissing him with such a fervor was driving mammon crazy as he was getting more worked up every second.

His hand went to your soft hair, tangling between his fingers as he kept kissing you. The sound you made when he tugged on your hair made his whole body shiver. Your sweet sound felt like music to his ears, and he was getting more greedy for you.

You felt yourself heating up with every touch, losing every sense, only wanting to feel him more. You gently pushed him back onto the couch without breaking the kiss. With a swift move, you swing your leg over his legs, straddling his lap, and pinning him down on the couch.

Mammon's eyes widened in surprise as you straddled him on the couch, pushing him back against the cushions. He looked up at you in a mixture of shock and excitement, his grip on your waist tightening as he tried to keep his composure.

He was blushing hard by your sudden bolt move as he held you by your waist carefully, not wanting for you to accidentally fall down.

His heart was racing, and he could feel your heat pressed against him. It was driving him crazy, and he couldn't help but let out a low moan as you positioned yourself on top of him.

His grip on your waist tightened slightly as he looked up at you, his expression a mix of surprise and desire. "Wh-what are ya doin?" he managed to stutter out, his voice shaky.

His breathless voice makes you come to your senses, and you realize what you are doing. “Uhh… s-sorry I can get up if you want…” you say breathlessly as you hold on to him by his shoulders.

Mammon's heart skips a beat at your sudden concern. Despite his surprise, he can't deny that he loves the feeling of you on top of him. He shakes his head gently, his hand still firmly holding your hip.

Mammon shakes his head, his grip on your waist not loosening. "No, no...it's okay," he says, his voice still shaky. He swallows, his adam's apple bobbing as he gazes up at you. "I... I don't want you to get up," he adds, a hint of pleading in his voice.

He swallows hard, his gaze still fixed on you. There is a hint of vulnerability in his eyes as he looks up at you, silently hoping that you won't leave.

He can feel the heat radiating from your body, the way your chest is rising and falling against his as you try to catch your breath. He glances down at your legs, straddling him, and a pang of desire shoots through his body.

His hands slid from your waist, down to your hips, and he gently pulled you closer to him.

“Ya look beautiful like this…” he whispered as his thumbs started to draw circles on your hips.

You whimpered softly as his hand traced down to your thighs. The voice you made snapped something in him and he started to kiss you roughly, like you were the last thing he was gonna taste.

You started to grind your hips on him to get some type of friction. The sensation made him realize how much he needed to feel you. He holds you by your hips tightly as he tries to feel you more.

You started to kiss his jaw and slowly go down to his neck as you kept moving your hips. You could feel his hardness fully now and you could feel yourself getting wetter every second passing by.

You start to nibble on his neck, leaving a tiny mark there and your hand moves to the hem of his shirt. You looked at him with your eyes full of lust as you asked “can i… take it off…” you gulped as you tried to catch your breath.

You wanting to take his shirt off made him feel like he was in the clouds. He quickly takes his shirt off with a one swift move, leaving his chest bare.

The way you were looking at him with hunger in your eyes, biting your lips as you checked him out with no shame… It was too much. He was gonna lose control if you kept this up.

“y/n i… are ya sure bout this… it's fine if you don't wanna keep goin’ alright” he said wanting to reassure you it was okay if you wanted to stop before it was too late.

You loved how sweet and caring he truly was. Making sure you were comfortable before doing anything else. You gently caressed his cheek. "I'm sure mams… i don't wanna stop… but it's fine if you want to…” you say.

Mammon felt a wave of relief wash over him as you reassured him that you wanted to continue. His heart was racing as he looked up at you, his eyes full of desire.

He gazes up at you for a moment, his eyes locking with yours, and he lets out a shaky sigh. "No… I don't wanna stop… I don't think I could even if I tried…" he says with a hint of desperation in his voice.

He caressed your hips, his hands grasping with a possessiveness that betrayed his growing desperation. “Just… tell me if ya want me to stop... a’right.”

You smiled gently as you caressed his cheek “I don't want to stop mammon… i dont think i can hold on much longer…”

Divider by:@cafekitsune