#both makes you grit your teeth and try to resist the urge to do so

[rafecameronssl4t]

The weight of expectations || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: I know you guys wanted more soft moments between Rafe and reader in this au so here you go!!!

Warnings: nothing!

Word count: 1,532

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The dimly lit office in the Cameron building had always carried an air of prestige, a reminder of the empire Ward Cameron had built with his own hands. But now, Rafe sat behind the polished mahogany desk, feeling the weight of that legacy pressing down on his shoulders.

His reflection in the window—sharp suit, tired eyes, jaw clenched—was one of a man constantly battling his own demons. Rafe’s phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. The meeting with Mr. Cartwright was scheduled for five minutes ago, but knowing Cartwright, he would make him wait a little longer just to make a point.

Rafe’s lip twitched in annoyance. This was supposed to be simple—sign the deal, deliver, and collect the reward. But like everything in his life lately, nothing was as easy as it seemed. As if on cue, the heavy doors creaked open, and Mr. Cartwright strode in, his presence filling the room with the unmistakable arrogance of someone who thought he could toy with the Camerons.

Rafe hated men like him. Cartwright was older, maybe late forties, with graying hair slicked back and a suit so tailored it made a statement by itself. Still, Cartwright had power, and Rafe knew they needed him for this deal. Rafe’s eyes narrowed, but he stood, gesturing to the chair across from him. “You’re late.”

Cartwright smirked, unbothered. “You’ve got nothing but time, Cameron.” Rafe resisted the urge to slam his fist on the table. The conversation turned cold quickly, escalating from subtle jabs to outright confrontation as Cartwright slammed his hand on the desk. “This wasn’t the outcome we agreed on, Cameron. I expected the deal to be completed two weeks ago.”

Rafe gritted his teeth, leaning back in his chair, trying to play it cool. Cartwright was testing him, seeing if Rafe would break under pressure. “Things take time, Cartwright. We’re working on it. You can’t expect a project this size to wrap up overnight.” But Cartwright wasn’t having it.

“I expected results, not excuses. I trusted your family’s name—your father’s name—when I signed on to this. Now, you’re telling me I just need to ‘wait’? My investors don’t have time for your delays.” Rafe’s jaw tightens, but he leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “I think you forget I was my father’s protégé, and now I’m handling the business. You underestimate me.”

“I don’t care what your investors think. The timelines shifted, and there’s nothing anyone can do about that. We’ll deliver, but on our schedule, not yours.” Mr. Cartwright slams his hand down on the table, eyes narrowing. “Your schedule is putting my reputation on the line. I’m not some small-time client you can string along. My name holds weight, and if your company can’t keep up, I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

Rafe’s eyes flicker with irritation, but he maintains his composure, though his tone becomes icier. “You’re not going anywhere, and we both know that.” He leans forward, his stare sharp. “You’ve invested too much in this project to pull out now. So let’s stop pretending you have the upper hand here.”

Mr. Cartwright scoffs, clearly insulted. “Your father knew how to handle his business. You, on the other hand, seem more interested in playing house with your perfect little wife and children than focusing on the deals that matter.” The mention of you brought heat rising to Rafe’s face.

His jaw clenched as he fought to control his temper. The comment hit too close to home. Cartwright had no idea what his marriage was like, the public façade they upheld, the tangled mess of feelings that simmered beneath the surface. “Mention my wife again, and you’ll regret it,” Rafe spat, his voice low and dangerous.

Cartwright just smirked. “Touchy subject, huh? Maybe if you focused on the business instead of her, this deal wouldn’t be falling apart.” That did it. Rafe was out of his chair, leaning over the desk, his eyes flashing with barely controlled rage. “You don’t get to talk about her. You signed the contract. You’ll get what we promised, but on our terms.”

“If you’re too much of a coward to stick it out, then fine—walk away. But you’re not going to find anyone better than me in this industry, and you know it.” The room was tense, their stares locked in a silent battle of wills. Cartwright didn’t budge. Instead, he straightened his suit jacket, his mouth set in a hard line.

“I’ll give you one month, Cameron. If this doesn’t turn around by then, I’ll make sure everyone knows how your family is crumbling—starting with you. Rafe forced himself to relax, stepping back from the desk, his smirk returning, though there was no warmth behind it. “One month. You’ll get your results. But you don’t scare me, Cartwright. Cross me, and you’ll regret it.”

With one final glance, Cartwright turned on his heel and stormed out of the office, leaving Rafe standing alone, the weight of the confrontation settling over him. He ran a hand through his hair, muttering a string of curses under his breath.

~

It was nearing 8 p.m. when Rafe pulled into the driveway, his mind still buzzing from the heated argument with Cartwright. He had no doubt he could deliver on the deal—he always found a way. But tonight, Cartwright’s words had gotten under his skin in a way that lingered, like a dull throb at the back of his mind.

The quiet of the house was almost unsettling as he stepped inside, the weight of the day’s events hanging heavily on his shoulders. Making his way upstairs, Rafe entered the bedroom, immediately spotting you on the bed, nursing Leo. Your eyes were closed, head leaned back against the headboard, one hand gently patting Leo’s back as he fed contentedly.

Rafe sighed, running a hand over his face, feeling the tension in his body slowly begin to ease. As complicated as things were between you, there was an undeniable comfort in your presence—an unspoken understanding that neither of you acknowledged but both felt. Rafe quietly crossed the room, his gaze softening as he approached.

Leo’s wide eyes met his, curious and bright. Rafe couldn’t help but smile, reaching out to gently stroke his son’s cheek. Leo’s tiny hand immediately grasped Rafe’s finger, holding on tight. A warmth spread through Rafe’s chest, and for a moment, the stress of the day melted away. His eyes shifted back to you.

Your breathing was calm, features relaxed in a way that made you look at peace, despite everything swirling around your lives. There was something soothing about the scene in front of him—something grounding. Leo’s eyes never left Rafe, watching his father with that same innocent curiosity. “Tough day?” Your voice, soft but alert, broke the silence.

Rafe’s gaze snapped up, meeting your half-lidded eyes as you watched him, though you hadn’t moved. He straightened, clearing his throat as he walked to the dresser, his back turned to you. “Just another asshole trying to tell me how to run my business,” he muttered, slipping off his watch and setting it down with more force than necessary.

“Cartwright’s testing me,” Rafe continued, running a hand through his hair before heading turned back around, leaning against the dresser. “Thinks I’m not my father.” Your gaze softened as you watched him. “You’re not your father, Rafe. And that’s not a bad thing.”

His blue eyes searched yours, trying to figure out if you truly meant it. There was a sincerity there, a quiet support that he wasn’t used to. It disarmed him for a moment, making him pause as he watched you with a curiosity that mirrored his son’s. The way you moved so naturally—so gracefully—as you gently lifted Leo and placed him in his bassinet beside the bed was a sight he found himself quietly admiring.

A soft sigh left your lips as you tucked him in, smoothing the blankets before slipping back beneath the sheets. You glanced up at him, still leaning against the dresser, lost in thought. “Are you going to get ready for bed?” you asked, your voice soft but carrying that calm tone you always seemed to have when it came to him.

There was no pressure, just a simple question, but it tugged at something deeper within Rafe. He cleared his throat, standing up a little straighter. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he muttered, his voice low as he turned back to the dresser, his fingers absently fiddling with the cufflinks on his shirt.

But he didn’t move right away. Instead, he stood there for a moment longer, watching you settle into the bed, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping around him like a comfort he hadn’t realised he needed. Despite the chaos that always seemed to swirl around them—around him—there was a strange sense of peace in this room, in this space they shared.

Even if it wasn’t always easy, even if things between them were complicated, there was something grounding in the quiet moments like these. And as much as Rafe hated to admit it, those moments were starting to mean more to him than he had ever expected.

[natsaffection]

Ohmygosh this is so funny, I’m the anon that just sent in a wandanat sex pollen fic request, only to immediately remember that you have a sex pollen fic for Natasha! 😂 so if you’re not feeling that request I totally understand, and maybe instead of reader being infected with sex pollen, she gets exposed to or injected with truth serum so she tries to avoid Wanda and Natasha after the mission so she doesn’t accidentally confess her feelings. She eventually does confess and Wanda and Natasha use the serum to their advantage, making reader flustered and making her admit sexual fantasies that she’s had of them, etc.

Truth and Desire. | WandaNat

Natasha x Fem!Reader x Wanda

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Kinda manipulative Wanda and Natasha, Begging, fingering, oral, restraints, multiple orgasm

Word Count: 1,7k

A/N: And with that good night. ✨🫂

The team moved with precision and stealth, each step calculated, each breath measured. You felt a rush of adrenaline, mixed with the familiar camaraderie you experienced with Natasha, Wanda, and the others. Little did you know, this mission would uncover more than just enemy secrets.

The plan was going smoothly until it wasn’t. An unexpected ambush caught you by surprise. In the chaos, you were separated from the team and captured by the enemy. Bound and injected with a serum, you struggled against the restraints, feeling the truth serum course through your veins.

A cold, calculating voice filled the room. “Tell us everything about the Avengers.”

You gritted your teeth, fighting the urge to speak. You knew the consequences of revealing their secrets. But the serum was relentless, and despite your best efforts, you felt the words slipping out.

Hours felt like days, but the team did not give up. They tracked your location and stormed the facility with fury, taking down guards with swift precision.

When they found you, relief washed over them. Wanda freed you from the restraints while the others created a protective barrier against any threats. You felt a mix of gratitude and fear. The effects of the serum were still lingering, and you knew you couldn’t control what you might say next.

Back at the Avengers headquarters, you avoided Natasha and Wanda as much as possible. You feared that a simple conversation would betray your deepest secrets. The truth serum had made you vulnerable, and you couldn’t risk confessing your feelings for them.

Hours passed, and Natasha and Wanda noticed your distant behavior. Concerned, they approached you one evening and found you alone in the training room.

“Y/n, what’s wrong? You seem so distant, do you want to talk about the mission?” Natasha asked gently, her eyes full of concern.

Your heart raced. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I… I can’t..” you stammered, turning away. Wanda stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. “You don’t have to be afraid. We’re here for you.”

You closed your eyes, knowing you couldn’t hold back any longer. “It’s not that simple..” you whispered. “The serum… it makes me say things. Things I can’t control.”

Natasha and Wanda exchanged a worried glance before Wanda spoke again. “What are you afraid of saying?” Your resistance crumbled, and you finally faced them. “I’m afraid to tell you that I have feelings for both of you.” Your eyes widened.

The room fell silent as your words hung in the air. Natasha and Wanda were stunned, processing the unexpected confession. You braced yourself for their reactions, fearing the worst.

But then Natasha took a step forward, her expression softening. “You don’t have to be afraid. We’ve been through so much together. Your feelings don’t change that.”

Wanda nodded, her eyes reflecting empathy and understanding. “We care about you. We can figure this out together.”

Unbeknownst to you, Natasha and Wanda had been watching you closely for some time. They had noticed the lingering glances and unspoken words. When your confession came, it was less of a surprise and more of a confirmation of what they had already suspected.

The two women exchanged a silent agreement. They had their own desires and plans, which they had kept hidden until the right moment. With your vulnerability laid bare by the serum, they saw an opportunity to explore those desires.

They approached you with seemingly innocent intentions. “Why don’t you come with us to our room? Let’s talk this out.” You agreed, relieved that your long-held secret was finally out. You suspected nothing beyond a friendly conversation.

The atmosphere in the room was calm, almost serene. They offered you a drink, and you sat together, chatting about various topics. The conversation flowed naturally until Natasha’s gaze sharpened and she moved closer.

“There’s something we need to discuss,” Natasha said, her voice taking on a more serious tone. Wanda nodded, her eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. “We know you’ve been holding back. We want to understand everything.”

Before you could react, Natasha and Wanda acted in unison. Natasha grabbed your wrists, pinning you to the bed, while Wanda used her powers to ensure you couldn’t resist.

“What are you doing?” you gasped, your heart racing.

Natasha leaned in, her breath warm against your ear. “The serum. It makes you tell the truth. And we want to hear everything.”

Your mind raced as the serum’s influence made it impossible to hide your thoughts. You felt a mix of fear and excitement as Natasha and Wanda’s intentions became clear.

Wanda’s voice was soft but commanding. “Tell us, what fantasies have you had about us?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, desperately trying to resist the serum’s pull. “You’re being u-unfair! I… I can’t! It’s too embarrassing, please..!”

Natasha’s grip tightened slightly, her voice a low whisper. “You don’t have a choice. Tell us everything, Y/n. Go on.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but the serum compelled you to speak. “I… F-Fuck! I imagine being with both of y-you! Your hands on my body, your lips on my skin. I want to feel everything, to be with you both, completely…”

Natasha’s gaze was intense. “And what else? Tell us every detail.”

Your words tumbled out, each confession more intimate and explicit than the last. “I imagine being tied up, helpless, while you both take control. I dream of you Natasha using your strength to dominate me, and Wanda using your powers to tease and please me..”

Natasha’s eyes darkened with desire. “You like being at our mercy, don’t you?” You nodded, unable to stop yourself. “Yes, I do. I want to be completely at your mercy…God, I hate you guys for this…”

Wanda grinned, her fingers tracing patterns on your skin. “Good girl.” The two exchanged a look, and you felt Wanda stand up and pull out a soft rope. Natasha still held your hands tightly while Wanda tied them completely together. “F-Fuck… you’re not going to…”

Natasha and Wanda exchanged a heated glance, their desire mirrored in each other’s eyes. Natasha’s hands explored your body, discovering every spot with a mix of tenderness and possessiveness. She planted kisses along your neck, biting lightly into your skin and eliciting soft moans.

Wanda used her powers to create sensations that drove you wild. She manipulated your senses, making it feel as if multiple hands and mouths were caressing you simultaneously. The intensity of the sensations made you writhe against your restraints, your body aching for more.

“Do you like this?” Natasha’s voice was a husky whisper. “Y-Yes,” you gasped. “Please, don’t stop…” Natasha’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Good girl,” she murmured. “We want to hear everything you feel.”

Wanda’s fingers traced intricate patterns on your skin, her touch electrifying. “You’re so beautiful like this,” she said softly, her breath hot against your ear. “So vulnerable, so honest.”

Natasha moved her hands lower, teasing the edge of your clothes. “I think it’s time to take these off,” she said, her voice a mixture of command and desire. With practiced ease, she undressed you, leaving you completely exposed.

Wanda’s eyes roamed your body appreciatively. “Perfect,” she whispered, her fingers continuing their teasing dance. “Now, tell us what you want, Y/n.”

You could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. “I… I want you both,” you managed to say, your voice trembling with need. “I want to feel you both inside me. Please…”

Natasha smiled, a predatory glint in her eyes. “That’s what we wanted to hear,” she said. She leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, her tongue exploring your mouth with possessive hunger.

Wanda’s hands continued their magical teasing, her powers enhancing every touch, every caress. “You’re doing so well, Y/n,” she murmured. “Just let go. Let us take care of you.”

Natasha’s lips moved from your mouth to your neck, then down to your breasts, where she took a nipple into her mouth, sucking and nibbling until you were writhing beneath her. Her hands roamed lower, her fingers slipping between your legs, finding you wet and ready.

“Look how ready she is for us,” Natasha said, her voice thick with desire. She slid a finger inside you, making you gasp. “Do you like that?”

“Yes,” you moaned. “More, please…” Wanda leaned in, her lips brushing your ear. “Tell us exactly what you want, Y/n,” she whispered. “Don’t hold back.”

Your voice was barely more than a whimper. “I want… I want Natasha to take me… and Wanda, I want to feel your mouth on me… everywhere…”

Wanda’s smile was both kind and wicked. “As you wish,” she said. She moved down your body, her tongue flicking out to taste your skin as she went. When she reached the juncture of your thighs, she looked up, her eyes meeting yours. “Just relax,” she murmured. “We’ll make you feel so good.”

Natasha’s fingers continued their relentless teasing, her thumb circling your clit as she pumped her fingers in and out of you. “You’re so responsive,” she said, her voice filled with admiration. “So beautiful.”

Wanda’s mouth descended on you then, her tongue exploring your most sensitive areas with expert skill. The combined sensations of Natasha’s fingers and Wanda’s mouth were almost too much to bear.

You cried out, your body arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over you. “Oh god, yes! Please, don’t stop!”

Natasha’s pace quickened, her fingers moving faster, harder. “That’s it, Y/n,” she encouraged. “Let go for us. Come for us.”

Wanda’s tongue never let up, her hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as she drove you closer and closer to the edge.

The pressure built inside you, overwhelming and undeniable. With a final cry, you came apart, your orgasm ripping through you with intense force.

Natasha and Wanda didn’t stop, drawing out your pleasure until you were a trembling, breathless mess. When they finally let you come down from your high, they both kissed you tenderly, their touches soft and soothing.

“You did so well,” Wanda whispered, her lips brushing against your forehead.

Natasha cradled your face in her hands, her eyes filled with a mix of pride and affection. “We’re not done with you yet,” she said softly. “But for now, rest. We’ll take care of you.”

[et6rnalsun]

LET ‘EM KNOW, chris sturn

𝜗𝜚 pairing: chris sturn x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ smut, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up) literally js sex, chris being rough as always, slightly toxic! reader & toxic! chris

posted this cuz i needed to post something so here u go sum freaky smut. there’s a small time skip directly to the sex, hope it’s clear

your relationship with chris was complicated — and it couldn't even be called that.

something unfinished, that neither of you wanted to end. something that you had to let go but were too attached and dependent to the toxicity of the entire thing. you fucked, argued, argued while you fucked. it was a cycle that repeated itself, threats of never seeing each other again and then ending up in each other's bed with sinful moans escaping from swollen lips.

you weren't a jealous person, never been, especially towards him. you knew perfectly well he fucked other girls and pride ate you up completely before you could make a scene or something. but there was one of his hoes in particular, who made your hands tingle with the desire to beat her ass, that kept hanging around on him as if he was hers.

you fought the urge to nibble on your freshly manicured nails as you stared at that photo posted on his instagram story, their faces too close for your liking, clearly laying in his bed. so, you didn't think twice before clicking on his number, calling him. you waited one ring, two rings, and at the third he finally answered, his raspy voice saying your name slurredly.

"can you come over?" you asked shortly, getting straight to the point as you sat on the edge of your bed. chris sighed, knowing where you were going with this. "i'm busy right now, i think you know that"

"do you think i care? drop this bitch, chris, we both know you're dying to come here anyway" you huffed, not caring in the slightest that maybe you sounded too cocky. then your voice took on a more pleading tone, trying to get to him. "please, i need you. i’m not even kidding"

you could practically hear him wavering, his silence the answer you needed while you were already smiling in victory. "i'm coming. i fucking hate you" and hang up.

you then stood up, walking to the bathroom as you changed out of your underwear into his favorite thong, a smirk on your glossy lips the whole time. you had won, as always. you had confirmed that chris couldn't even resist you and your sweet voice of yours that begged him so subtly.

you didn't care if you sounded pathetic, or if you wouldn't do it for any other man anyway. you wanted him and had him again.

and then you didn't care even more as your fingers continued to pull the long curls of his hair to draw him closer to your neck, already tortured by marks and hickeys. your other hand gripping the crumpled sheets of your bed due to the inhuman rhythm of his thrusts. your moans were like music to his ears, especially after not hearing them for so long.

the tight, pink thong you had worn a few minutes before his arrival had been thrown to the floor without the slightest importance or care, like the rest of your clothes, only that one had been completely torn by chris's fucking impatient hands.

“you're such a needy slut,” he murmured through gritted teeth, one of his hands resting on your neck to keep you still. "you couldn't stand the fact that i was with someone else, huh? admit it" to those last words he added a thrust that hit right in that sweet spot, making you whimper.

“shut the fuck up” you managed to breathe out, your thighs tightening around him as you were desperate to reach your orgasm. "you didn't even - ah- didn't even hesitate to come here, didn’t you?”

he tightened his grip on your neck, lifting one of your thighs onto his shoulder with his other hand as he groaned. "fuck you" small beads of sweat had formed on his forehead at that point. “no one, no one has a pussy as fucking tight as yours” he felt like your walls were about to snap him in half, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head. "you drive me so crazy"

your moans had increased, feeling that pressure starting to persist more and more. “admit it” you whimpered, your long nails scratching his back as your arched yours slightly in pleasure. "admit that no one is like me"

his lips had found your bare shoulder, his teeth digging and biting into the sensitive skin as he whispered and moaned shamelessly into it. "no one makes me feel like you do, ma, i would gladly die inside this pussy if i could."

and you're cumming around him the minute the words leave his lips.

[waterkittywriting]

BSD Men Stepcest Headcannons <3

Warnings: Stepcest, nsfw, this is just generally immoral don't do this, reader has gn pronouns but female anatomy, bondage, noncon + dubcon, for akutagawa it's incest, kinda self inserted in Ranpo's 🥱

Characters: Ranpo, & Akutagawa

A/N: I've wanted to write this for so long but never had that patience to sit down and write so many characters, finally doing it thoughhh,

Ryūnosuke Akutagawa (incest)

- you're his adorable little sibling!! How cute!!

- On the outside, it appears he doesn't like you much, never wanting to converse, touch you, or even be near you

- But when you two are home alone.. it's very different

- He'll pull you onto his lap despite your playful resistance, claiming it's just to keep you safe from any enemies

- You know he's just making up excuses, but who cares? You get to feel your hot older brother getting hard under you.

- He'll rest his hands on your shoulders and his face in your neck as you cook, resisting the urge to bite and lick and kiss and suck.

- When he eventually does start to do all these things, you can't help but tease him for his ' brotherly ' love .

- Slowly rocks your hips back and forth while you're sitting on his lap, so little movement it would barely be noticeable, but you felt it, and you know he knew what he was doing, and you loved it.

You wake up to dark, tight tendrils around all your limbs, spreading your legs open and keeping your hands above your head, the cold air conditioning hits your cold pussy and makes you whimper, squirming around. This is something that you had to deal with quite often, and if you'd ever confront him about it, he'd deny it, look at you disgusted and say you had a wet dream, even though you both know what happened had been very real.

All your squirming earned you was a 'tsk, tsk..' and a small slap on your bare thigh. You slowly open your eyes, looking at your older brother standing in front of you. "R-ryūnosuke- why always while I'm sleeping..? Let me rest.." you whine.

"Shut up and let me enjoy my meal." He grumbles, positioning himself between your legs, you feel his tongue press against you and you arch your back, a moan falling from your soft lips.. this was going to be another long night.

Edogawa Ranpo (Stepcest)

( im so bad at writing ranpo please forgive me )

- His mother and your father had married recently..

- You did not like him, one bit. He was creepy! You're freshly eighteen and he's twenty six.. yet he's still so touchy.

- He would grab your hands and your shoulders, tilt your chin up to look at him, put a hand on your bare thigh, etc

- your father claimed "Its just brotherly love! You can ignore it."

- But what you couldn't ignore was the growing arousal in your core everytime he touched you. You thought you were keeping it a pretty good secret from your parents.. but..

- Ranpo had always been, really, really, smart, you weren't sure where he worked but you knew it must have been something to do with his intelligence.

- You knew he knew. And you hated it, you hated seeing his stupid smirk or his shit eating grin everytime you'd excuse yourself to the bathroom to go plunge your fingers deep into your pussy and pretend it was his dick.

You were in your room, getting dressed, face to the wall when you heard him. "Hey, sugar." You can't see him, but you know damn well he has that stupid smile on his face.

"Adults are gone for the night. Nobody has to know!" He smiles, gripping your wrists in his hands and shoving them away from your chest, against the wall. "*You're* an adult!" You groan, embarrassed at having your chest exposed to someone so... So..

"Get out, Ranpo. I'm changing." You say through gritted teeth, trying so hard not to rub your thighs together at the thought of him seeing you completely naked. "Oh please, don't act like you don't want me here." He laughs, walking towards you and spinning you around so he can see your bare chest. You immediately gasp and cross your arms over your chest. "Ranpo! Get out..!" You whine, taking a step back and bumping into your wall, standing on your bra and shirt that sat on the floor.

You gasp at the sudden feeling of his mouth touching your nipple, he looks up at you with that stupid smirk on his face before giving it another kitten lick. "So are you." He grins.

[mintmatcha]

-ownership

cw: cisfem reader. it's smut, but a little sad if you squint, but still smut. piv sex, biting, bruising. Just a lil drabble i reworked lol.

He smells like someone else's soap, a bleak reminder that, even when he's under you, Togame Jo is never truly yours.

His glasses are tossed aside on to the floor, open and face down, so there is nothing to obstruct his heavy lidded gaze and it's deep, green grasp. His sweatshirt is pushed up just enough for you to get a glimpse of where his happy trail ends and his pants are still around one leg, planted on the floor. The other leg is tucked up on the couch behind you, pressed against your ass to keep you in place. You're just far enough above him that he can't quite sink his cock in, instead just clumsily fisting it through your petals, through the mixture of your wetness and his precum.

"Come on now," he says. "Don't make me beg."

But he is begging. His body betrays his nonchalant attitude. His free hand digs into the flesh of your thigh, his downward turned lips part with a want laden breath. You swear there's even the hint of a wrinkle between his brows, the ghost of agony-

"Come on-" Togame's hands both travel up, tracing over your lower back is short, desperate movements. They settle on the small of your waist, squeezing in tiny, rough bursts. "Babe."

You shake your head and he groans, slamming his head back into the arm of the couch. The still wet tendrils of his hair are starting to curl around the base of his neck. His desperation fuels you. You curve your spin and cup your tits, putting on as pretty a show as you can muster, just for him.

"Maybe I want you to beg for it."

"Fuckin', god, come'ere."

You expect him to pull you down, to force you to sit on to his cock, but instead, he jerks you forward. The surprise knocks you on to your hands, and he scoops forward, catching your lips against his. The kiss is deep, breathless, and feral, teeth bumping against your bottom lip as he dips in for more. The hot press of tongue against yours steals your resistance; you fumble below you, fingers closing around his cock as you guide it inside you.

He open-mouth moans into the kiss when the resistance gives and he sinks inside. Togame reflexively bucks up into you, deep enough that you squeal from the sensation.

"That's it." He falls back, still gripping your waist. He uses the connection to guide how you move; he likes a little bounce, just enough that your tits jiggle, not enough that his cock falls out. His eyes flicker between your chest and face, always looking down his hooked nose with a soft, smarmy satisfaction. "That's my fuckin' girl."

The strain on 'my' makes your chest ache-- and your pussy clench around him.

"Yeah, you like being my girl." Togame says, relaxed despite how his cock twitches. "My girl, my pretty fuckin' thing, dripping down my balls, take what you need-"

The grey of his sweatshirt is damped with sweat: yours and his. You ride until your thighs quiver from the effort, until your core is molten and tight with want and the squeeze of his palms somehow burns hotter-

"Slow down, lemme enjoy this." Jo grits out, even though he's the one who's been urging you faster and faster. "Wanna enjoy my baby all night."

You lean back against his thigh again and catch your breath. "Do you say sweet things to all of your girls?"

The humor drains from Jo's face.

"Oi." He sits up too, pressing on to his elbows. He's quick to snatch your chin in his grasp. "The fuck does that mean?"

Those green, green eyes find yours.

"Hurts my feelings, yeah?" He tilts his head to the side when you look away. "When I say my baby, I mean it. My baby. Just one."

His voice is soft enough that you believe him.

But when he dips in to kiss you again, he still smells like someone else's shampoo. You try to focus on anything else: how he ruts up into you lazily, how his breath still tastes of oranges from earlier, how he hums a happy little note when you kiss back.

You want him. Sexually. Obsessively. Solely. You pull away from him and drag your lips down to his neck. His adam's apple bobs against your cheek as you suck a hickey into the side of his neck.

"Aw, shit." Jo's back arches up at the pain and you only suck harder, adding the hint of teeth along with it. "Haaa, okaaay-"

When you inspect your work, the skin is mottled and red, broken capillaries are blossoming: proof that you're been there. The muscles below are tensed as he sucks in jagged breath after jagged breath. Your teeth ache to sink in again, so you do, leaning into the other side of his neck greedily.

"Yeah, do it again. Make it fuckin' trashy." His voice is is low and airy. "Mark me up good, own me."

When you hollow your cheeks, he whines high, arms crossing around your back to hold you tight.

"Yeah, that's my fuckin' girl."

[cameronspecial]

omg please write, enemy!rafe texting reader about something, and then he just starts flirting with her but she’s just bitchy back, and he’s like “see you later” or something like that

Let Me Fix This, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and Toxic Rafe

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Masterlist

Rafe’s rules weren’t normally a probably and Y/N understood he created them so that they could have a healthy relationship and she was safe. However, at this moment, she can’t because he is going too far. “I turned it off by accident, Rafe. I don’t know how it happened, but it wasn’t on purpose,” she grits through her teeth. His eyes narrow as he holds her phone up to her, “That’s literally impossible. You have to go through so many steps to turn it off. You intended to do it!” She cowers back at the harshness of his words. He hasn’t spoken to her like this since their first fight. Since then, whenever he felt his volume rising, he would leave the room to calm down. “It was an accident!” she argues. Anger takes him over. Before he can control himself, he throws her phone across the room and the smashing of glass against the wall has her turning to see her broken for on the floor. She looks back at him and shrinks away from him. The fear in her eyes makes him instantly regret what he did. It tears his heart apart. 

“You crossed a fucking line and I don’t think I can handle this side of you anymore.”

He freezes as she grabs her purse and storms out of the room. Once she’s out of the room, the reality of her words sets in. He runs after her, “Angel, wait. I’m so sorry.” He doesn’t find her in the hallway and he rushes down the stairs to see if he can catch up to her. “She’s gone, Dude. Kelce is giving her a ride,” Topper announces from behind him. Rafe’s fingers go through his hair and he pulls, “Shit.” He totally fucked up. And he doesn’t know what he is going to do if he can’t get her back. 

———

He blocked her. He knows she did because the texts don’t show as being seen or even as delivered. It’s only been three hours but it has been the longest they haven’t talked and he is getting seriously concerned that they aren’t together anymore. He finally thinks he has figured out what to do. His knuckles wrap against her dorm door. He takes a deep breath, nervous she won’t open the door. His hand, not holding the bag and flowers, fidgets with his sleeve. The door swings open and her familiar scent fills his nostril. “What the fuck are you doing here? I thought I made it clear what I think we are,” she grumbles, trying to close the door in his face. He drops to his knees and this bars the door from shutting. His hands clasp in a plea, “Please, let me fix this, Angel. I can’t live with myself if this is where we end.” She shouldn’t. What happened early today was a red flag and she wouldn’t want to be someone who ignores those. Yet, something in her knew that even if she was scared at that moment, she should at least hear him out. 

“Fine, you have three minutes,” she orders, stepping back so he can enter her room. He rushes to his feet and he resists the urge to pepper her with kisses. He hands her the flowers, pulling out the phone box from the bag. He hands both to her. “These are for you. I’m sorry I broke your phone,” he apologizes. She takes them both and sets them on the table with a mumbled thanks. 

“Is that all you are going to say?” she prods. His head shakes vehemently, “No. No. No. Honestly, it’s only the start of a thirty-hour speech I made in my head. I’ll shorten it for your sake though.” She flicks her chin to get him to keep going. 

“There isn’t an excuse for how I reacted today. I let out a side of myself that I never wanted to be directed toward you and I will regret it for the rest of your life. I never should’ve thrown your phone or yelled at you. I let my insecurities and my worry get the best of me and it clouded my judgement. I know it was an accident, Angel. I should’ve believed you when you said it. I just get so anxious when I can’t be there to protect you because you are my whole life. And… And…”

Tears are formed in his eyes and his voice is breaking. She doesn’t need him to finish the sentence to know where it is going. They’ve never really needed words to communicate how they feel. Her need to comfort him overpowers her and she steps into his reach, wrapping her arms around him. He buries his head into her neck. His tears stain her skin. “Shh, it’s okay. You don’t need to finish. I understand and I forgive you. I couldn’t live with myself if I lost you,” she admits, running her hand through his hair. “Don’t misunderstand me though. Pull a stunt like that again and you won’t ever see me again.” His lips press against her skin. “I’d never dream of it.” 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[ephemeral--dreams]

blood and grenadine

Scar/Reader

Word count: 1,531

Rating: M

Warnings: Scar is his own warning...!

Notes: feral cat reader who cannot accept affection is very important to me thanks. anyway I haven't stopped thinking about scar for a month. get him out of my head

☆ ☾ ☆ ──────────────────

You grit your teeth. It's getting tiring, the way he kept doing this. No, it is stressful. The way he goes around taking people you care about or causing mass destruction to get your attention. You worry that he's going to end up killing someone before you ever get there to confront him. Someone could get hurt, and it'll be your fault, because he's only targeting them because of his obsession with you. You wish he'd just come after you directly instead of doing all this. You don't like these little games he plays.

It's a typical but no less frustrating sight to show up to fire everywhere and screaming and him waiting for you expectantly. His head tilts. “What a coincidence. I've been expecting you.”

“Don't call it a coincidence when you did this on purpose,” it comes out scathing, sharp. He only smiles pleasantly.

“Why stop doing something that brings results? You should stop giving me what I want by showing up. You're conditioning me~”

“You can't-” you look away, trying not to simmer in your own guilt. It's stupid. You know it. He'd caused chaos before you and he'd do it whether you came or not. But you still feel as if it's your fault. If you could manage to stop him then these things wouldn't keep happening, but he always seems to get away after he has his fun. “What do I have to do to make you stop, then?”

It's worth a try. Maybe there's something he wants. Something you can get for him or… you don't know. Anything.

“Stop?” he laughs, as if the very idea is absolutely hilarious to him. Some thin thread inside of you snaps. You can't do this anymore. This cycle of violence. Innocent people getting hurt. The feeling of being helpless against it all.

“This is about me, isn't it? Then come after me. You want to fight? Then I will fight you. You want to hurt someone? Hurt me. Leave out the extra steps to get my attention. You don't need to involve anyone else.”

He's silent for a long moment as he stares at you. It's unusual for him to stop talking. But there's some sort of interest. That's what you're betting on. 

“Do you have any idea what you're offering?”

“I'm offering whatever you want.”

The expression that spreads across his face sends a shiver down your spine, his grin razorblade sharp conflicting with the strange infatuation in his eyes as he steps closer, heat radiating as he steps into your space. You resist the urge to step back. “You. Be mine for the night, and everyone here gets to run free! Isn't it a fair deal?”

There's all kinds of implications there that you don't like. God only knows what exactly he plans to do. Giving him free reign over you for even a night is a terrible, terrible idea. But does your safety really matter in comparison to that of others?

It doesn't. 

“...Fine. It's a deal.”

“You've made an excellent choice, little lamb. Let's not waste time,” the portal opens before you are given even a single chance to second guess, a hand on your shoulder coaxing you through. “Come, come. We'll have a good time, I promise. You'll want to join me when I'm done with you~”

☆

You're so tense. You always are. It's one of the easiest things to notice about you. Though it's rather troublesome when what he needs from you is for you to trust him, let him get into your head. 

“...What do you want me to do,” you ask the moment you're both through the portal, not even a moment to get your bearings. Straight to business. 

"Patience, dearest," Scar murmurs, hand still wrapped around yours in a one-sided grip as he leads you through the maze of halls. "First, we must prepare. Sometimes in order to experience the best in life, you have to shed the old.”

Your silence is uneasy, terse. You're waiting for the other shoe to drop, he can tell. It's like you think he's going to do something awful! As if he would, now that he's finally gotten a chance to get his hands on you in a way that isn't a mere fight. You simply don't appreciate how much effort he goes to just to get you to look at him. You act as if he's always out to torment you for the sake of it. 

Which he's not. His intentions are so clear! How haven't you realized it yet? The obliviousness is as endearing as it is frustrating. It's because you don't think of anything but the weight of the world. Stupid, overly self sacrificial little lamb. Not tonight.

He tugs you through his bedroom to the connecting bathroom. You stand in the corner watching warily as he sets the faucet on the tub running, debating which of the oils he wants to put in. What would you like? He knows so much about you but not such simple things. If only you weren't so resistant. He puts in what reminds him most of your perfume after a long moment of contemplation. Then he moved to light some candles. Too dark in here. Scar paid attention to every detail, setting the mood for the evening.

The water steams as he shuts off the stream. He turns to you expectantly, then moves to guide you over himself when you don't come over. “Well?” If you're not going to undress yourself he has no issue helping you along. 

You look at him. You look at the water. You look back. Suspicious. Hmph. You think a simple bath is an attempt to drown you, is that it? What a warped imagination. He's never met someone so overly cautious. “Little lamb, it's just a bath. You've got ash on you from all that chaos earlier, hm? Get in, come on.”

You look no less defensive over it, movements stiff as you obey regardless, clothing neatly folded as it is removed before you sink into the water with the kind of hesitance that feels entirely out of place for what is supposed to be a moment of relaxation. That's all it is. He just wants to ease the tension. That's it! 

He thinks that it's a good thing the tub is big enough for two, as he strips and slips in behind you. 

"Little lamb, relax," Scar's voice is quiet, his hands on your shoulders, kneading them. All the while, you remain stiff, a contrast to the warmth of the water. You really think he's going to harm you, don't you? Skittish. Perhaps that's not so surprising, but.. He lets out a soft sigh. Adorable, but so difficult. “Enjoy it. I’m not the grasping hand all the time, dearest.”

“You're a violent maniac,” is all you say in response.

“And you're too tense,” He feels a bit like he's coaxing a feral cat into accepting affection. It's as endearing as it is pitiful. Do you even know how to relax, he wonders? With how much you burden yourself with things he wouldn't be surprised if the answer was no. You almost seem more distressed when he's here being gentle with you than when he tries to attack you. As if it's all a complete and utter shock to your system. “It would do you good to let go of things. You can't can't carry so much weight forever, you know.”

You let out a quiet huff, but are otherwise silent. Is the idea really so preposterous to you? 

A little of the tension starts to ease from your body under his attention eventually, though. The slightest bit. But it is a step in the right direction. He's got his work cut out for him if he ever wants to get you to love him back, now doesn't he?

“This isn't a battlefield. I don't intend to hurt you tonight. Alright? I just wanted some alone time with you. You can calm down. You've got to give me a chance, dear~”

You tilt your head to look back at him balefully. “Maybe if you stopped causing me stress…”

“Poor little lamb,” he coos, hands still rubbing over your back. “Does it upset you that much?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Then I'll break into your house next time I want to see you. Then you can't complain. Yes?” Let it not be said that he can't compromise. 

“I- fine. Whatever. Just don't attack anyone. Please.”

“Please? Are we pleading now? How cute. But alright,” Scar leans down to kiss the top of your head. You tense again. “Shh, shh, let it happen~ Don't go all stiff again now.”

“What do you want.”

“I want you to be mine, of course. But I'll accept it if you stop acting like I'm going to stab you in the back every time I touch you, for now.”

“...A tall order.”

“We have all night.”

You sigh. “Try your best, then,” it's all the acquiescence you will offer to his intent. But Scar will take it.

He has you in his grasp now. It's only a matter of time before he gets your heart. 

[planetpedri]

Hi! Would it be possible to request fluff with Cole Palmer, like a lazy morning in bed when he doesn't have training and then getting up to make breakfast together? I love your work sm

Mornings like this — Cole Palmer.

Pairing: Cole Palmer x Fem!Reader

Summary: You loved when Cole didn’t have training. It meant you got to have a normal day together, doing normal things like cook breakfast together without needing to rush.

Word count: 620+

Disclaimer/s: Fluffy + banter !

A/N: I’m finally going through my reqs heyyy

Sun seeping through your curtains had to be the most annoying thing. On Cole’s rare day off, you two liked to sleep in, but the sun had a vendetta against you, clearly. Your boyfriend shifted behind you with a groan, nuzzling his face into the nape of your neck.

“How many times do I have to beg you to get blackout curtains?” He grumbles, his voice raspy with sleep.

A small breath of laughter escapes your lips. “Baby, if you want them so bad, you can buy them.”

Cole’s eyes fluttered open, an amused grin on his lips when his eyes met yours. “Fine. Today, we go get them today.”

Shuffling around to face him, you nod in agreement. “Breakfast first though. Are we in the mood for anything specific? I would kill for Belgian waffles.”

“Do we have flour?” Cole quirks an eyebrow, “because if we do, then we can make some, but I want bacon.”

“Bacon and waffles is an odd combo, but i’m so down.” You sit up, stretching your arms and back. “Okay, I need to go to the bathroom first, i’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

The man nods, climbing out of bed alongside you. He goes to place a kiss on your lips, but you dodge him. “Oh.. we need to brush our teeth first.”

His lips purse and he has to suppress a groan, but nods in agreement anyways. So instead of making his way to the kitchen, he follows you to the bathroom.

After your morning routine was done and you both make your way into the kitchen, you begin preparing for breakfast cooking. You both move in slow motion, too tired to make a hasty breakfast like you usually would on his training days.

“Pass me the measuring cups?” You sigh, putting your hand out patiently.

Cole steps away from the stove where he was making his bacon to grab the cups. Handing them to you, he goes back to where he was previously.

Your phone was connected to a speaker, playing soft tunes while the two of you cooked. “Ay, can I have a drink?”

Your lips pull into a frown. You’d just poured the perfect cup of orange juice. Reluctantly, you hand your boyfriend the glass. “Don’t drink it all, Cole.” You point at his accusatorially, which he feigns offense at before taking two large gulps just in spite.

You gasp, resisting the urge to lunge at him. “Hey! What did I say? You’re such a—“

“Woah!” He laughs, “watch it!”

“A loving, kind, boyfriend.” You grit through a forced smile, “hand it over.” Your boyfriends laughter echoed throughout the kitchen as he hands you the now half empty cup.

Once breakfast had been made, you two sit down at the table across from each other. “So, we go get curtains at around one, and then stop at the new café down the road? I want to try it, your sister said it’s amazing.”

Cole hums, “after that can we stop by the mall? I want to get a new hoodie.”

“You have like—five thousand. Why do you need another?” Your lip curls into a teasing grin.

“Yeah, and so why is my closet empty? Oh, should we go take a peek in yours?” He shoots back. Your smug look falters. Well. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Oh, shut up.” You huff. “New hoodie, got it.”

The rest of the morning goes smoothly, both of you showering and getting ready for the day at a snails pace. You were grateful for his days off, they always made for the perfect lazy days. Plus, any extra time with Cole was time well spent, no matter how productive.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any of my posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !

[lowkeycasanova]

the feminine urge to disrupt his peace

inspired by this post

trafalgar law x reader

He'd just come out of the shower, robe wrapped around his waist, as he fumbles through his belongings. His signature hate, the one he holds dear, seems to have vanished. Panic seizes him as he frantically searches his stuff, until his eyes catch a sight. There you stand, in front of the mirror in the bedroom, donning his hat as you admire yourself with it. Your eyes catch his in the mirror and you turn around with a mischevous smirk dancing on your lips, as if you wanted him to find you with it. Law's initial anxiety is now replaced by relief that his hat isn't actually missing, but also, frustration with you.

"What are you doing with my hat?" he grumbles, his voice tinged with irritation as he strides towards you.

"Oh, this old thing?" you say playfully, adjusting it on your head. "I thought I'd borrow it for a while. Don't you think it suits me?"

His scowel deepens, his annoyance evident on his brows. "Give it back." He demands in a firm tone.

You only giggle, looking back into the mirror. "Come on Law, you have to admit it looks cute on me." you reply and that's when you take notice of is hair. His dark hair still slightly damp and wavy, strands falling near his eyes and stiking up in other directions. "Your hair looks so good. You should actually wear it out more."

Law rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to reach out and snatch the hat from your head. "I don't care how it looks on you. It's mine and I want it back."

You pout, feigning innocence. "You sure? Because I might just keep it."

He sighs in exasperation. "You're impossible." he mumbles. "Just give it already."

With a laugh, you relent, removing the hat and giving it back to him. "Fine, fine." you say grinnning up at him. "But you have to admit, it's a good look for me."

He takes the hat with a mock glare, but there's a softness in his eyes that peeks through.

"Don't make a habit out of stealing my stuff."

You chuckle and press a quick kiss to his cheek. "No promises." you tease and head for the door.

"Oh and by the way," you started and he turns to you once more. "You should probably wash it." Uttering that last part and darting out the door before he can get a word out.

-----

Amidst the strategic discussions and boisterous exchanges amongst the crew on the Polar Tang, Law finds himself caught in a subtle game of flirtation. You sit across the table, your gaze lingering on him with a hint of playful allure. Each time your eyes meet his, it's like a tiny spark ignites within him, sending a flurry of emotions through his usually composed demeanor.

With a look measuring him up and down and softly biting your bottom lip, Law clears his throat, trying to regain his focus at the task on hand, but your continued glances make it difficult. With each exchanged look, his heart quickens its pace. A sensation both frustatiing and exhilarating. He discreetly grits his teeth, silently cursing at the distraction you pose, even as he tries to fight the faintest hint of a smile threatening to betray him.

The Shachi and Penguin notice his unusual behavior, exchanging puzzled expressions as Law clears his throat and shifts in his seat more than normal. Ikkaku, on the other hand, caught in quick, and is slightly amused by the dyanamic unfolding in front of her.

With a sly smirk, you cross your arms over your chest, charmed at the fact that yet again, you've gotten under his skin.

-----

"Traffy!!"

Your voice rings out throughout these metal walls, echoing with a familiarity that sends a shiver down Law's spine. He paused mid-action, his hand hovering over the papers scattered across his desk.

"Traffy?" you questioned as you looked up and down the corridors for him. The way it easily rolled off your tongue unnerved him.

He never expected to hear that come from your mouth.

It's official. You've been spending too much time with the straw hats.

He doesn't answer to your call, because there's just no way you just called him that, but you end up spotting him in the office.

"Hey, there you are." you smiled as you casually leaned against the doorframe.

He tried to control the sigh that came out of his mouth. "What do you want, Y/N-ya?"

"Oh, nothing. Just looking to see what you're up to."

You were making a conscious, deliberate effort to call him 'traffy", as you had never done it before. Just wanted to see how he'd react, is all. And based on the roll of his eyes, you grinned, knowing you had struck a nerve.

[thedemoninme141]

Her Heartbeat, Chapter 8: Her Absence.

Summary: Wednesday isn't sure which she detests more, your presence.. or your absence.

Warnings: LightAngst! EmotionallyConfusedWednedsay! WHIPPED WEDNESDAY!

[ It took me longer than expected because I was so confused about certain parts but big thanks to @ortegalvr and @cobaltperun for their helpful insights! ]

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter

Worklist.

Wednesday was trying to process the string of events that had led her here—walking beside you after a night of vulnerability that she couldn’t quite shake off. The camp, the spiked coffee, her uncharacteristic confessions—it was all a blur. But the one thing that stood out, You. It infuriated her, how your presence gnawed at her thoughts.

“You good Wends? You look like you’re plotting at least ten different ways to murder me.”

“Eleven,” she deadpanned, her arms crossed as she continued walking.

You laughed, not fazed in the slightest. “Glad to see you haven’t changed after last night. Honestly, I’m torn between which Wednesday I like better.”

“Do you ever stop talking?” she muttered.

“Nope,”

As you reached the hallway that led to your dorms, you stopped, turning to face her. “Well, this is me,” you said, pointing to the corridor that led to your room.

Wednesday’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. She hadn’t expected you to leave so abruptly. It felt…off.

"Don’t look so sad, Addams,” you said with a grin. “I’ll see you around.”

“Sad?” she scoffed, crossing her arms tighter. “The only emotion I’ll feel is relief.”

“Of course,” you replied, unconvinced. “Just try not to miss me too much.”

With that, you gave her a mock salute and turned, walking down the hallway with a casual wave over your shoulder. She stood there for a moment, watching you leave. There was a part of her—a very small, minuscule part— that found the sudden quiet... unsettling.

With a sharp shake of her head, she dismissed the feeling and turned on her heel, making her way back to her own dorm.

Upon entering, she found Enid sprawled across her bed, scrolling through her phone. The moment she noticed Wednesday, she perked up with a bright smile.

“Hey!” Enid chirped, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Where were you last night? How was the therapy session?”

Wednesday resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Excruciating. As expected."

Enid tilted her head, clearly skeptical but not one to push. “Huh. Well, it must’ve been really bad ‘cause, um…” Enid trailed off, her eyes traveling down Wednesday’s frame. “Nice clothes. But they’re, uh, a bit big on you.”

Wednesday froze. Her eyes slowly dropped to the clothes she was wearing—clothes that definitely didn’t belong to her. They were yours. Damn it.

Enid’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Wait, are those Y/N’s clothes?”

Wednesday turned away, her expression carefully neutral, but the heat rising to her face was undeniable.

“Oh my god!” Enid squealed, practically bouncing off the bed. “You spent the night at Y/N’s place! This is huge! You never do sleepovers! You always say no to me and Yoko! Why didn’t you invite me though?” She pouted, clearly in full gossip mode.

“Because nothing of significance happened,” Wednesday replied, her tone as icy as she could manage.

Enid wasn’t buying it. “Uh-huh, sure. And the fact that you’re still wearing Y/N’s clothes means nothing at all, right? Like, absolutely no hidden meaning? No secret story?” she teased.

Wednesday gritted her teeth, annoyed with both Enid and the situation.

"The only thing ‘secret’ here is how you’ve managed to survive this long without me murdering you in your sleep."

"Wow, rude," Enid huffed, though her expression remained playful."But seriously, what happened? Come on, spill the tea!"

Wednesday let out a sharp sigh. It was clear Enid wasn’t going to shut up until she gave her something.

"I was accidentally incapacitated last night," Wednesday admitted stiffly. "I had to spend the night in Y/n's house."

Enid blinked in surprise. "Wait, what? You were incapacitated? Like… drunk?" Her eyes widened with excitement. "No way! Wednesday Addams got drunk?"

"I wasn’t drunk," Wednesday snapped. "I was drugged. There’s a difference."

Enid’s grin only widened. "Oh my gosh, who drugged you? Was it a prank? Are they dead?"

"Not yet, but soon." Yeah, Rick is going to pay. Time to plan her revenge. Enid pulled her out of her thoughts. "Sooo… are we just going to ignore the fact that you are still wearing Y/N’s clothes" Time to plan her revenge after getting out of your clothes.

But as she yanked off your shirt and tossed it onto the bed, something caught her attention—the faint scent of you still lingering on the fabric. It was subtle but undeniable, and it made something unfamiliar and unsettling stir in her chest.

Whatever this was, whatever you were doing to her—it was becoming dangerous.

So what now... Wednesday found herself at a loss for what to do. She had spent so much time in your chaotic orbit this week that now, without you by her side, the day felt strangely dull. It was irritating how much of an impact you'd had. Perhaps that ridiculous spiked coffee had affected her more than she’d realized. Or maybe it was the fact that her thoughts kept circling back to you, which was even more disturbing.

Enough of this nonsense. She wasn’t some emotional weakling who would pine over someone’s absence. There was plenty to occupy her time.

She marched over to her bookshelf and grabbed the thickest volume she could find—a collection of Edgar Allan Poe’s complete works. She sat down, flipped the book open, and forced herself to read. But the words were just that—words. No matter how many pages she turned, they refused to hold her attention. Her mind kept wandering back to your face, the way you looked when you smiled, and the way you’d been…different last night, more serious, more caring. She hated how vividly she remembered every moment.

Stop it. She slammed the book shut with more force than necessary, the sound reverberating through the quiet room. This was absurd. You were nothing more than a distraction—a temporary one at that. She could certainly live without you for a day.

Wednesday pulled out her textbooks, intending to immerse herself in something productive. But after hours of skimming through botanical studies and historical analyses, she found herself staring blankly at the pages, unable to retain any of the information.

She groaned inwardly. What is happening to her? She had always prided herself on her focus, her ability to block out anything unnecessary. Yet here she was, unable to shake the thought of you, and it was driving her insane.

It was late afternoon when her phone rang, snapping her out of her daze. She glanced at the screen—David. She answered with her usual briskness.

"What?" she said, not bothering with pleasantries.

"Hey, Wednesday," David replied, his voice sounding unusually hesitant. "I just wanted to call and… well, apologize for yesterday. I should’ve been paying closer attention. For Rick's mistake, I feel responsible."

“You should feel responsible,” she said without sugarcoating it. “And Rick will answer for it. I’ve already begun plotting his untimely demise.”

David let out a nervous chuckle, clearly unsure whether she was joking or not. “Right… anyway, I also wanted to apologize personally. I feel pretty guilty about everything, so I was thinking of hosting a small dinner tomorrow night. Just to make up for it."

“I’m not interested in another therapy session,” Wednesday replied flatly, ready to end the call.

“It’s not a therapy session,” David reassured her. “Just dinner. A way for me to say sorry properly. I’ve invited the others too, along with their partners. I thought… well, I was hoping you might bring Y/N as well.”

For a brief moment, Wednesday’s brain screamed no. There was no way she would subject herself to more of this insufferable socializing. And yet… there were you. She had spent so much time with you this week that the thought of another evening in your presence—annoying as you were—had some strange allure to it.

Before she even realized what she was saying, Wednesday heard herself agree. “Fine. I’ll be there.”

“Great,” David said, relief evident in his tone. “Dinner’s at seven. Hope to see you there.”

Wednesday hung up the phone, staring at the screen for a moment longer than necessary. What had just happened?

Frustrated with herself, she tossed her phone aside and walked over to her desk. She moved to her typewriter.

The keys clicked with sharp precision as her fingers danced across them, bringing Viper’s world back to life. Viper, like her, was strong, solitary, and focused. Viper didn’t let anyone close enough to break her concentration. Viper does not allow distractions.

But the story wasn’t coming together. She stared at the page, trying to force the next sequence of events to unfold in her mind. Where was Viper supposed to go from here? What was her next move?

Her fingers hesitated above the keys. Nothing.

An unsettling feeling crept up her spine. For the past few days, she had tried to work on Viper’s story, only to be met with this same void. It was unacceptable. She had never experienced such a thing before—this sudden lack of inspiration, this… inability to progress. It was as though some unseen force was blocking her creativity.

“Writer’s block,” they called it. What a ridiculous concept. How could someone as brilliant as her be struck down by something so petty?

Wednesday had had enough. She craved the solace of something familiar—something that could pull her out of this maddening state. The cello.

Yes. That would do.

After dinner, Wednesday retrieved her cello and carried it to the balcony. She carefully set up the instrument, it's been some time but her skill is still the same.

And then, something caught her eye.

Down below, near the gates of Nevermore, she saw you. You were standing alone, glancing around as if waiting for someone. It was late, almost midnight—what were you doing out there? Where were you going?

She couldn’t explain it, but something about the way you stood there, the way you looked—nervous, distracted—made her feel that annoying, unsettling tug in her chest again.

Before she even realized what she was doing, she was walking. Her feet carried her down the stairs, out of the house, and through the courtyard. She didn’t question her actions until she was already standing beside you.

“Where are you going?” she asked,

“Jesus, you need to stop doing that, Wednesday!” You clutched your chest, eyes wide with surprise. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Wednesday was unfazed, her dark eyes narrowing. “Answer the question.”

That nervous gesture—it was familiar. You had the same look when Bianca had asked where you were at the end of last year. The way you averted your eyes, “Um… tomorrow, it’s a family function. My aunt’s having a baby,” the words tumbling out as if rehearsed. The hesitation in your voice didn’t escape her, and her instincts flared to life.

Lies. Wednesday could smell them a mile away. But she didn’t press. Not yet. The first rule of interrogation was never to reveal that she knew someone was lying—not until she had all the pieces. She would let you think you had her fooled, for now.

“David invited you to a dinner tomorrow” Wednesday stated, her voice sharp, as if daring you to avoid the question.

“Oh,” you replied, your posture relaxing slightly. “I’ll be there.”

You offered her a small smile, but Wednesday wasn’t convinced.

Her eyes remained on you, unblinking. You were nervous, your gaze flitting between her and the gate.

"Look, I’ll see you tomorrow evening," you said, flashing a quick, almost forced smile. "I have to go, but I promise I’ll be there for dinner."

Before she could respond, a car pulled up, and you glanced back at it with obvious relief. You turned to leave, not even offering a goodbye. Yet, as you stepped into the car, you looked back at her. Wednesday noticed something strange in your eyes. A flicker of something she couldn’t quite place—fear, distress, sadness, regret?

And as your car disappeared into the distance, Wednesday felt that hollow, irritating emptiness return. It gnawed at her, digging its claws deeper into her chest. The feeling was familiar by now, but that didn’t make it any less infuriating.

She had been alone her entire life, and she preferred it that way. But lately, your absence felt far more unsettling than your presence.

Since the start of this… whatever it was between you two, just when she thought she had you figured out, you went and did something like this—leaving her standing alone in the courtyard.

Wednesday tried to rationalize her emotions. This was all a temporary lapse, nothing more. Soon, she would return to her usual self—focused, sharp, and unburdened by these absurd feelings.

Enid had already gone to bed by the time Wednesday entered the room, thankfully sparing her any more of the bubbly werewolf's questions.

Good. Wednesday needed the silence, the chance to process everything without any distractions. She slid into bed, pulling the covers over her and lying rigidly on her back, folding her arms across her chest.

Back to the start, you had needed her help to break out that old woman from the asylum for her wedding. So, she thought that's it, that must be the reason. But Wednesday cursed herself for not prying in further, she should've investigated why was that important for you.

And then, you trying to get close to her, you had said you have no intention, that you just want to be her... wait you hadn't said anything about that... you never called her friend like Enid does.

So.. it's not friendship that you seek... so.. did you seek?

No, it can't be, It felt wrong. This whole thing felt wrong.

It felt like you had dug a space in her mind and settled there without permission. No, not permission. Permission would have been refused immediately. This... this was more like you had just sauntered in, hung your jacket beside her coat, and sat on the sofa beside Wednesday despite her repeated protests.

It wasn’t just your lies that bothered her. It was the vulnerability she had shown around you—the things she had said, it was the uncomfortable feeling, of how you can use them against her.

But what was your secret? And why did it matter? Wednesday didn’t care about people’s secrets unless they were her enemies. So why did she care about yours? How had she allowed this to happen? How had she, of all people, let you get under her skin so deeply? It was unacceptable. She hated how easily you disarmed her with your presence, with that damnable smile that haunted her even now.

And then, there was the look, the look you gave her, the one that reflected her own... fear of vulnerbility. You surrounded by trees? In the forest? It was dark. Wednesday tried to focus on that memory,

"It’ll be... selfish." your voice, what would be selfish? What did you tell her? What did she tell you?

Sleep did not come easily. Her thoughts kept racing, kept circling back to you, no matter how hard she tried to focus on something—anything—else. Eventually, exhaustion won out, and she slipped into a fitful sleep, her dreams plagued by fragmented images of you and the growing sense that something was very, very wrong.

The next morning, Wednesday awoke feeling no more rested than the night before. Her body had gone through the motions of sleep, but her mind had never truly shut off. The moment she opened her eyes, her thoughts immediately returned to you, as if you had somehow managed to occupy her mind even in her unconscious state.

She got ready with her usual efficiency, pulling on her black uniform, Enid as always, was still snoring. Wednesday checked that cursed device they call phone, You hadn’t called, hadn’t texted—not that she wanted you to. Or so she told herself.

By the time she made her way to the quad for breakfast, Wednesday was in a foul mood. She scanned the area out of habit, her eyes searching for you among the usual group of Nevermore students gathered at their usual spots. Of course, you weren't there, you had "family function".

“Howdy Roomie!” Enid called out behind her “When did you wake up? I didn't hear you leave!”

“Just because I live in the same room as you, Enid, doesn't mean I owe you a detailed schedule of my movements,” Wednesday responded dryly.

“Someone’s grumpy,” Enid teased.

Wednesday shot her a glare that could freeze the sun.

Enid, Yoko, Eugene, and Bianca were deep in conversation, laughing about something Enid had said. Wednesday was beside them with her usual indifference, though her gaze kept flickering to the empty spot where you would have been. They were loud, their chattering, yet it felt so silent, without your voice.

“So where is Y/n?” Bianca’s voice broke through Wednesday’s thoughts.

She turned her head sharply, eyes narrowing at Bianca. “Why would I know? I am not her keeper.” she snapped, her voice cold and clipped.

Bianca raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying Wednesday’s defensiveness. “You two have been... close lately. Thought you’d know.”

Close. The word grated at Wednesday, like sandpaper against raw skin. No, if you were close you would have been here, or at least told her the truth of your whereabouts.

“I don’t make it my business to monitor the movements of others. Unlike you,” Wednesday retorted.

Bianca shrugged, but a small smirk played at the edges of her lips. “Okay Okay, I was just curious.”

The first class of the day was worse. The seat next to her was conspicuously empty. Wednesday scowled at it, as though willing you to appear. The lecture droned on, but her focus wasn’t on the words being spoken. It was on the empty chair. It was on the fact that you should have been there, irritating her with snide remarks or unnecessary commentary.

She shouldn’t miss that. She didn’t miss that.

But her eyes kept straying to the clock. Each passing minute seemed slower than the last, a constant reminder that you weren’t there. It was irrational. Ridiculous. Yet every second without your presence felt... wrong. As if a rhythm she hadn’t even realized she’d fallen into had been disrupted. She glanced at the clock again. And again. Till finally, the clock hit 7 pm.

Wednesday found herself mechanically preparing for the dinner David had invited you both to. She didn’t bother dressing up for the occasion—her usual black hoodie would suffice. The entire time, her phone remained maddeningly silent. Not a single call. Not a single text from you.

Should she call you? Of course not. That would be absurd. But the thought gnawed at her anyway, clinging to the back of her mind like a stubborn shadow. What if you didn’t show up? What if you weren’t coming at all?

Wednesday clenched her jaw, her fingers tightening around her phone. No, she wouldn’t call you. She refused to be the one to reach out first. If you wanted to disappear, then fine. She didn’t care.

The restaurant was nothing extravagant or special, a humble spot in the town that seemed to fit David’s predictable lack of taste. The sign above flickered slightly, as if unsure of its own existence, much like her own certainty about coming here.

Her eyes flicked over the tables. Rick, Ashley, Mike, Brooke, Alex, and Milo were already seated, laughing like the therapy group of over-sharers they were. She felt her stomach twist in disdain. The chatter grated on her nerves, each of them blissfully unaware of her silent disdain. And, worse than the noise, worse than their faces, worse than the cheap ambiance... you weren’t there.

David noticed her the moment she walked in, his smile broad and annoyingly warm as he approached. “Wednesday! I was worried you wouldn’t come,” he said, sounding like he might actually care.

“I rarely miss an opportunity to endure forced social interactions,” she replied flatly, the sarcasm dripping along with the poison from her words.

David chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head as his eyes shifted behind her. He hesitated for a moment before asking, “Uh, where’s Y/N? I thought you two would come together.”

A spike of irritation shot through Wednesday. She was used to deflecting these kinds of questions, but your absence had put her in an even worse mood than usual. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Y/N left Nevermore yesterday night and hasn’t attended school today. She said she would be here, but evidently, she lied,” she snapped, her words harsh and biting.

David blinked, clearly surprised by the venom in her tone. “I’m sure she’s just running late,” he offered, trying to sound reassuring.

He led her to the table, where the others greeted her with exaggerated enthusiasm. Rick, in particular, seemed eager to make amends for the chaos he had caused at the camping trip.

“Hey, Wednesday,” Rick started, sounding awkward. “I just wanted to, uh, apologize again for the whole... coffee thing. I really didn’t mean to spike it. It was an accident, I swear.” Rick kept talking, but his voice, somehow, slowly became mute. She didn’t even register what he was saying anymore. The door of the restaurant had opened again, and everything else—the chatter, the dim lighting, the forced smiles of her peers—faded into the background.

There you were.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Wednesday’s composure faltered. Her usually steady pulse quickened. She sat up straighter, her eyes narrowing in an attempt to maintain her usual detached scrutiny, but it was no use. You had walked in, and she was momentarily frozen.

Wednesday swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. Her heart was beating just a little too fast, and it annoyed her to no end. This wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be reacting like this. She shouldn’t feel her pulse quicken just because you had walked into a room.

But there it was, undeniable and infuriating. You looked like the embodiment of everything she despised and everything she was inexplicably drawn to. You weren’t trying to make an entrance, weren’t seeking the spotlight, but in that moment, you had all of her attention.

You weren’t dressed in anything overly elaborate—no dazzling sequins, no shimmering fabric. You wore a simple red square-neck dress, its clean lines flattering your form without drawing attention to itself. And yet, the sight of you was enough to render Wednesday utterly still.

Wednesday understood you weren’t trying to be beautiful. You were just being you.

And you were beautiful. It was a problem.

You finally turned your gaze to her, your eyes locking onto hers. And for a moment, the air felt heavy between you, charged with something unspeakable. You smiled softly—just a small curve of your lips—but it was enough to make her feel like the ground beneath her feet had shifted.

David noticed her distraction and followed her gaze, grinning when he saw you.

"See?" he whispered to Wednesday. "Told you she was just late."

But Wednesday barely heard his words. She was still staring at you, trying to make sense of the strange, unfamiliar feelings swirling inside her chest. She had spent her entire life keeping people at arm’s length, priding herself on her emotional detachment. And yet here you were, unraveling her carefully constructed walls with nothing more than your presence.

It was infuriating. It was terrifying.

As you approached the table, you gave a small wave to the group, a smile playing on your lips. "Hey, Wednesday," you said, your voice soft but clear, like the distant echo of something she couldn’t quite reach. Your smile—not the mischievous grin you often wore, but a more subdued, almost nervous smile. It sent a jolt through her, as if you had managed to slip past every wall she had carefully built around herself.

She opened her mouth to respond, but the words—whatever they were supposed to be—stuck in her throat. She managed a nod, her face betraying nothing, but inside… inside, everything was spiraling out of control.

David clapped his hands together, breaking the tension. "We were just about to start. Come on, have a seat."

He gestured to the chair next to Wednesday, the one that had remained conspicuously empty all evening. You hesitated for a fraction of a second before walking over and sitting down beside her.

The moment you were that close, Wednesday’s entire body went rigid. She stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the fact that you were there, sitting next to her, your arm occasionally brushing against hers.

The dinner began, but it felt more like a performance. The others were talking, laughing, passing plates of food around the table, but you… you were quiet. Too quiet.

It wasn’t like you to be this reserved, you weren’t teasing her with that infuriating sense of humor.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed, her mind racing as she tried to piece together the puzzle. Why weren’t you being your usual irritating self? Why weren’t you joking or nudging her like you always did? There was something off about your behavior tonight, something that tugged at the edges of Wednesday’s awareness, unsettling her.

She wanted to ask. No, she needed to ask. But the words caught in her throat. This wasn’t supposed to happen—this wasn’t supposed to matter to her. You weren’t supposed to matter to her.

Yet here you were, sitting so close to her and being so distant at the same time.

Brooke, sitting a few seats down from you, leaned forward suddenly, “Okay, so… not to bring up that night’s chaos, but who the hell cut my hair?” she asked, gesturing toward her now uneven, poorly trimmed pink strands.

Wednesday felt a small smirk tug at the corner of her lips, the memory of her drunken state returning in flashes. She was about to open her mouth and claim responsibility—it had, after all, been her doing.

But before Wednesday could utter a word, your voice cut through the air for the first time that night.

"It was Rick."

It wasn’t loud, barely more than a casual statement, but the effect was immediate. Everyone at the table believed you since you were the only one who had been sober that night. Except Rick who was halfway through a bite of his food, choked and dropped his fork onto the table with a clatter. "What?" he sputtered, eyes wide with disbelief. "I didn’t—I don't-"

Ashley, sitting next to him, elbowed him sharply in the ribs, “Rick! Seriously?”

He groaned, clutching his side. "I didn’t do anything! Not that I remember but why am I getting blamed for everything tonight?"

Brooke huffed but eventually seemed to relent, giving Rick one last glare before she picked up her drink and took a long, deliberate sip. Ashley, meanwhile, gave Rick another jab in the ribs for good measure,

"It’s still your fault, whether you like it or not."

"Why would it be only my fault? You were the one who brought "the thing" instead of sugar from my bag." Rick complained,

"Why do you even carry "the thing" everywhere?"

"I told I you had business to do!"

David, sensing the tension building around the table, cleared his throat and jumped in to defuse the situation. "Okay, okay, let’s not start throwing accusations around. It was a crazy night. Mistakes were made… coffee was spiked, hair was cut, feelings were probably hurt—let’s just chalk it up to that, yeah?"

The conversation continued, drifting into lighter topics as David worked hard to steer it back toward safer ground. He asked about everyone’s week, threw in some jokes about their upcoming therapy sessions,

But you… you had gone quiet again.

You sat there, eyes fixed on your plate, barely acknowledging the conversation swirling around you. For anyone else at the table, it probably wouldn’t have mattered. They were used to people drifting in and out of conversations, especially when it came to group dinners like this. But for Wednesday, it was suffocating. Every second that passed with you sitting there, silent, felt like an eternity, gnawing at her nerves.

You had spoken, and it had been to protect her. To cover for her, even though she hadn’t asked for it. She hadn’t needed your protection—she could handle everything, and she would’ve gladly taken the credit for the butchered haircut. Yet, you had lied, shifted the blame onto Rick without a second thought.

Wednesday’s mind raced, trying to make sense of it. Was this part of your strange behavior tonight? Was this quietness a deliberate choice, a game? Or was there something else, something you weren’t telling her?

As the others continued their conversations, laughing and chatting as though nothing was out of the ordinary, Wednesday found herself unable to focus. She could barely hear what they were saying, too caught up in the growing frustration of your silence. She wanted you to be annoying again. She wanted the teasing, the jabs, the irritating banter that had become so… familiar.

But now, you were just sitting there, quiet. Too quiet. And for Wednesday Addams, that was a far more dangerous game than any words you could have thrown her way.

She had been hyper-aware of your presence throughout the dinner, glancing at you periodically, waiting for you to say something, to return to the version of you that had been irritating her since the start. But you never did. And now, as the group stepped out onto the street, Wednesday’s eyes subconsciously searched for you again—hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’d finally break the silence and offer some sarcastic remark to alleviate the tension in her chest.

But then— Whoosh!

A burst of light flared up, and someone screamed. Everyone turned, staring in disbelief.

Rick’s car was on fire.

A full-blown, blazing fire, with flames licking the dark sky and smoke pouring out of the engine. Rick stood frozen, his jaw hanging open, his eyes wide with pure horror as he pointed uselessly at the inferno.

"My car! What the hell happened to my car!?"

Wednesday, equally shocked, stared at the flaming vehicle. Her first instinct was to analyze the situation—had someone sabotaged it? Set it on fire? But before she could process any logical explanation, she felt a dozen pairs of eyes turn to her.

Everyone was looking at her.

She arched an eyebrow, completely confused. "What?"

David tilted his head, "Uh, well... it is something you'd do."

Wednesday crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing at them. "As much as I love the idea of committing arson," she replied dryly, "I assure you, I had nothing to do with this."

But before anyone could say another word, they heard a burst of laughter.

Everyone turned to see Brooke standing by the car, holding—of all things—a gas canister, her face flushed with amusement. She doubled over, clutching her sides as she cackled uncontrollably, practically giddy with delight.

“When did she—" Mike started, his eyes widening in disbelief. “When did that happen?”

Rick groaned, his hand dragging down his face in defeat. “Brooke, my car! You set my car on fire!”

She shrugged nonchalantly, as if setting a vehicle ablaze was just another Tuesday for her. “Yeah, well, you deserved it. Consider it payback for my hair!"

Rick sighed, resigning himself to the fact that he wasn’t getting out of this unscathed. “I mean, I did kinda deserve it, but still... my car, Brooke.”

"Its a Honda Odyssey, she did you a favor by burning it." Ashley joked.

"She is crazier than I thought," Mike mumbled.

“Okay, everyone! Let’s not panic. We’ll, uh, figure something out. Probably not now, but soon. Really soon.” David scratched the back of his head. “Maybe we should call a fire service.”

Wednesday, who had been watching the chaotic scene unfold, found herself caught between irritation and amusement.

But then, a different thought crossed her mind. She hadn’t heard you laugh. You, who always had a sarcastic comment or a snide remark ready. You, who would’ve probably had some offhand comment about Brooke’s arson. But the space beside her was… empty.

Her fingers clenched into fists at her sides as she forced herself to focus on the scene in front of her, trying to ignore the nagging thought in the back of her mind. Trying to ignore the fact that you had disappeared without a word, Trying to ignore the fact that you left her without even saying goodbye. Trying to ignore the fact that, despite the fire and the chaos unfolding around her, all she could think about was the empty space beside her where you should have been.

But it was hard ignoring all that.

It was really, really hard.

NEXT CHAPTER

[nomoreusername]

Insomniac

Pairing:Newt x female reader

Summary:When you find yourself unable to sleep again, Newt helps you in a way only he can.

I would never need to go to hell. It's already inside my own head that seems intent on torturing me. I’m not even exaggerating. Keeping someone from sleeping is actually considered actual torture.

That means I’m both the victim and the abuser.

I don't exactly know what I have. I don't know the reason. I don't even know if there is a reason. Maybe I’m just paranoid about living here. Maybe my brain chemistry is just off balance. Maybe there's just something wrong with me as a person. Maybe it's karma for something I don't remember doing.

It doesn't matter. It's most likely insomnia, but that doesn't mean anything. It doesn't take away the fact that sleeping is essentially impossible for me.

I don't tell anyone. I don't see the point in talking about it. It won't fix it, and unsolicited advice makes me want to scream. Yes. I’ve tried just walking around. I’ve tried exercising a little before bed. I’ve tried drinking lots of water and eating enough. I’ve tried sleeping in warmer clothes. I’ve tried sleeping in lighter clothes. I’ve tried everything there is to try.

Newt knows but not by choice. I was sitting by the fire pit a few months ago in the middle of the night. I had officially given up. He had gotten up to use the bathroom and saw a mysterious shadowy figure. He carefully approached and saw that it was just his sleep deprived girlfriend. He asked me what was wrong, and the exhaustion sent me into full blown tears. He wrapped his arms around me and comforted me. When I could breath again I spilled everything.

He slept with me that night. He laid in my hammock and held me until the sun came up.

After that, he said to wake him if I ever need him again.

I do need him to cuddle me to sleep again. I have needed him for weeks.

I have not asked. I haven't woken him up. Why would I? He’s got his own things going on. He has to help look after the Glade, do his work in the gardens, check up on the Runners, go to Keepers meetings, help out the Greenies, and more. He doesn't need me bothering him.

I was walking around again. I kept going in pointless circles while gritting my teeth in frustration. Resisting the urge to pull my hair, I kept my hands in my pockets. I swear I was going to burst into tears yet again if something didn't work soon.

Dropping to the ground and sitting on a log just like that night, I buried my face in my hands as I took deep breaths. I just want to sleep. All I want is to sleep. That's all. It's so simple and so easy, but I can't do it.

“I thought I’d find you here,”a familiar voice remarked. Too tired to even be caught off guard, I groaned as I stared at the Maze wall. “How long haven't you been sleeping again?”Newt sighed, taking a spot beside me.

“It's fine,”I mumbled.

“Your eyes are getting dark again. It's clearly been a while.”

“Just go get your rest. You need it,”I insisted.

“So do you. Come on, love. Let's get you to sleep,”He said, holding his hand out.

“It’s fine. I won't bother you.”

“You will if I know you're out here torturing yourself for no reason. Why do that when you can climb into my hammock, close your eyes, and doze off in my arms?”

“That does sound nice,”I absentmindedly admitted.

“I know it does so let's go do that,”He said, still holding his hand out. Giving in, I took it and let him pull me up.

The second I did I almost stumbled as that pounding headache came back. Grabbing me before I could fall, he pulled me off of the ground and close to him. Burying my face in his chest, I shut my eyes as he carried me back to the only place that would ever fix my problem.

Sneaking past everyone, he slowly approached his hammock. While still holding me, he climbed in.

As he stretched his legs out I curled up to his side. Resting my head back on his chest, I tucked my legs to my stomach as he wrapped an arm around me.

“I’m always here for you. For anything at all at any time of day or any time of night,”He said gently yet firmly.

“I know. I just don't like bothering you.”

“You're the furthest thing from a bother. Besides, I like sleeping beside you. It means you're safe and is one of the only times we can actually cuddle,”He reassured me.

“I love you more than I could ever say,”I murmured, my eyes fluttering shut.

“I love you the same, but moments like this are more than enough to prove that,”He whispered, kissing my temple. With my breathing evening out, I fell into a genuine, deep sleep for the first time in what may as well be forever, with him whispering sweet nothing's to me the entire time.

[poetryandfluffycats]

OKAY. since reqs are open uhm would you write madara cucking kuro plz...

like literally fucking fem!reader getting fucked, kuro's clothed boner pressed to her cheek while he kinda js sits back in shock and doesn't know what to do while mama is fucking her rrroughhhh and is like "you like my cock that much? kuros right there you'll make him angry" and shit. idk DOES THIS MAKE SENSE but yeah 🫶🏻

-🍓anon

A/N: I GOT CARRIED AWAY WITH THE PLOT OMG SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I hope it's too ur liking I may have gone off the rails a little bit....

Pairing: Kuro Kiryu x fem!reader x Madara Mikejima

Content: Madaras into you, everyone and their dog knows that. Only problem is, you have a boyfriend.

Warnings: NSFW, dub-con, slut-shaming, oral sex(f receiving), cuckolding, dry humping, sexual harassment(?), mentions of cheating, established relationship with kuro, ooc madara(?), they're both ooc tbh💀, porn with plot

Words: 2.1k

NSFW oneshot under cut!

Have Him Watch?~

It was no secret that Madara had a thing for you. He had made his advances-both romantic and sexual alike-very obvious to you and everyone else, not even hesitating to flirt with you right in front of your own boyfriend, Kuro.

Kuro wasn't the type to let himself fall into petty jealousy, he knew you loved him and that nothing would never change that. Therefore, he hardly batted an eye whenever Madara made another stuipd comment about your body, or when his hands would linger for just a bit too long. It was better to simply ignore him and wait for Madara to get the hint. Kuro knew he was strong, but to pick a fight with Madara? Death wish.

So, he didn't aggravate him in any way, letting the bigger man do this thing until he realised he had no chance with you. Which is why he was confused when Madara cornered him in the gym one day, his teeth gleaming in his signature smirk.

"Kuro! My friend, my pal! Got a minute?" He beamed, slinging his arm around Kuros shoulders and pulling him in close, squeezing so hard you'd think he was trying to suffocate him.

"Uh, I'm a bit busy right now" Kuro pushed him off, dusting himself off and returning his attention to the weights he had been lifting. "Maybe later"

Madara smile didn't waver, if anything it only grew in size. Clearly, he had no interest in leaving anytime soon, not even when Kuro desperately wanted him too. Whatever Madara wanted from him, he didn't have the time for it. Not now, hopefully not ever.

"Ah, cmon! It'll only take a second!" He chirped, plopping down on the bench beside Kuro, crossing his legs and watching as the redhead started his reps. "Hey, working hard or hardly working, am I right? Hahaha~"

"Out with it, Mikejima" Kuro grunted, resisting the urge to smash his weights straight in the mans face. All he wanted was a peaceful workout, was that too much to ask for?

Madara laughed, waving his hand dismissively as if to clear the tension. "Always so blunt, I've always liked that about you y'know!" He grinned, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. "So, you and (name), huh? How serious have you gotten with her? Is it marriage?"

Now he was just starting to piss him off. How was this any of his business? Sure, you and Madara were friends, but where did he get off asking for details about your relationship?

"She's my girl, yeah" Kuro answered, praying that his short replies would deter him from the conversation. If that was even possible.

"Right, right. And just hypothetically, if she were to cheat on you, would you be mad?"

Kuro tighten his grip on the weights, his knuckles turning white at the strain. "What are you getting at? You trying to start something?" He said through gritted teeth, shooting a glare in the brunettes direction.

Madara chuckled, putting one hand up in defence and using the other to playfully slap Kuro on the shoulder-a gesture that he did not appreciate, might I add. "Woah! Easy, I don't wanna fight ya! I'm just curious. Hey, maybe you'd let her cheat on you, I don't know what you're into!"

Kuro dropped the weights, the metal making a loud 'clunk' sound as they hit the floor, causing the other members of the gym to look over and stare at the two. Not that he gave a damn, oh no. Not when this clown was making a scene. How dare he suggest you would have an affair? Was he out of his mind?

"What's wrong with you? Of course I'd be mad, what makes you think I'd be cool with that? Get lost man" He spat, shoving him aside as he rose to his feet. The blood rushing through his veins felt as if it was burning as he sped away, not wanting to spend another second with such a fool.

What even was that? Kuro had gotten used to Madaras teasing and loud personality. Hell, he'd even grown to enjoy it to an extent. But this was just insulting. Why was he even saying those things? Did he know something Kuro didn't? Had you....

No, that was silly. You would never be unfaithful, that just wasn't you at all. Yet here he was, images flooding his mind of you tangled in Madaras arms, both of your bodies sticky with sweat and cum as you screamed his name. It was disgusting.

But so, so hot.

Shit.

/-----

You and Madara were friends. It was normal for friends to hang out alone in each other's bedrooms, even if they were the opposite gender, right?

Yeah, of course it was fine! Who were you kidding, it was perfectly acceptable.

You two were good friends, the best of friends! So it was normal for him to hug you, to wrap his arms around your waist from behind and pull you closer. He was a touchy person, after all. It was totally okay for him to nuzzle into your neck and inhale the smell of your perfume, to pepper kisses all over your jawline, to grind his erection against your ass-

Wait a minute.

"H-hey! What are you doing?" You yelped, squirming around in his grasp in a feeble attempt to escape his hold. It didn't matter how close you were, there was no way you'd be comfortable with this!

"What's wrong?" He cooed, your wiggling only seeming to excite him further as he continued his humping. "Friends cuddle all the time! Or are we not friends anymore?"

"This isn't cuddling! This is-ah! This is, oh fuck! This is sexual harassment, you perverted fuck!" You cursed yourself for allowing your voice to crack, letting those dreaded moans spill out like you were some whore who enjoyed this. Which, of course, you didn't! You didn't like it, right? Dammit!

"Sexual harassment, huh? If that's what floats your boat" Madara chuckled, pushing his hands past the hem of your skirt, groping the soft flesh of your thighs.

You squirmed around, hitting at his chest and clawing at his arms. It was no use, damn him and his muscles! In this position all you could do was stand there and take it, because in all honesty, you knew that no amount of protesting would get him to stop. Even of you did get away, it wouldn't be for long, Madara was as stubborn as ever and you knew for a fact that he wasn't afraid to use force to get his way.

You just didn't realize that part of him would ever show itself to you.

"Kuro. Kuro will be home soon, and he'll-ah! He'll kick your ass!" You threatened, snapping your head around to glare at the man behind you. Using Kuro as a form of defence probably wasn't the best idea, but it was your last resort. Begging and trying to fight back certainly didn't work against Madara.

He just laughed. "Maybe we can have him watch"

"What do you-"

A sudden knock at the door cut you off, the familiar voice of your beloved boyfriend coming from behind it. "Uh, (name)? Do you have someone over? Why's the door shut? Can I come in?"

Oh fuck. No!

It suddenly dawned on you just how horrible this would look to Kuro, you pinned against another man with his hands up your skirt? Anyone would think you were a cheating whore! No matter how much you tried to explain the situation, it would still look the same. You had dug your own grave by even letting Madara come over!

Madara pressed his lips to your earlobe, nipping on the soft flesh and whispering lowly, "Do you want me to stop?"

Yes! No! Maybe?

God, why did it have to feel so fucking good?

"Babe? I'm coming in"

"Wait-ah-no! Don't-"

Too late.

The door swung open, the face of your wide-eyed and shocked boyfriend sending a wave of guilt down your spine. He looked at you, then Madara, then you again, his mouth opening and closing but no words coming out, only surprised mumbles and stutters.

You honestly couldn't tell if he was angry, sad, confused, aroused, maybe a mix of all three? And it didn't help that you were unaware of what emotions you should have been feeling either. Should you scream for help, or moan in pleasure? Push Madara away or pull him closer?

"Kuro... this isn't..." You started, trailing off when you glanced over the very obvious tent in the redheads jeans. Oh. Oh shit.

So he was aroused by this? What even was this? Some twisted form of roleplay? A fetish that the two men discussed that you didn't know about? Did Kuro actually like this, or was his body reacting subconsciously?

Either way, you didn't have much time to think about it before Madara picked you up from under your thighs and tossed you onto the bed like a ragdoll, wasting no time in climbing in between your thighs and nuzzling his nose into your panties.

"Mm~ You smell so good" He purred, the vibrations of his voice sending a wave of pleasure to your core, a gasp mixed with a whorey moan leaving your lips at the feeling.

The redhead in the doorway cleared his throat, footsteps echoing in the room as he made his way over to where you lay on the bed. He sat down beside you, a hand coming out to gently stroke your cheek. It was a soothing action. One that might have made your heart melt if there wasn't another man currently lapping at your panties like a starved dog.

"Is this okay? I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about it first.." He apologised, his face flushed pink and his lips turned upwards into a small smile. "Just tell me if your not enjoying it and I'll kick him out, alright? That's okay?"

You gulped, then nodded, bringing your own hand up to hold his as you squirmed around on the mattress, your mind slowly but surely becoming goo at the pleasure spreading through your veins.

"Ah!- I don't know"- Madara looked up at you with those big brown eyes, choosing that moment to flatten his tongue against your clothed clit, making a show of slurping and smacking his lips together -"f-fuck yes! Oh god, please!"

With consent finally granted, Madara hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down in a second and diving straight into the heat of your pussy. He flicked his tongue up and down, side to side, round in circles and everywhere he could possibly reach inside of you.

Anything to make you scream his name, and scream his name you did. You threw your head to the side, falling into Kuros lap, as he brushed over that one spot, a spot that not even Kuro had reached before.

"Shit! Right there! Ah-ha~ Madara" You cried out, wrapping your legs around his head in a death grip, shoving his tongue even further inside you. "So good!"

He pulled his tounge out of your wet hole, opting to swirl and flick it over your clit. You withered and squirmed around on the bed, griping onto the sheets as hard as possible. The knot in your lower belly was starting to build, and both Madara and Kuro could tell. Your whole body felt as if it was on fire under Madaras touch, every inch of your body begging for release.

It just felt so good. So, so, so good-

"Ah-gonna cum!"

Your orgasm washed over you like a wave, toes curling and eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your lips parted and you were panting so heavy you barely had enough breath left in your lungs to moan or even scream. Juices splattered all over the face of the man in between your legs, dripping down his chin as he drank it up like it was the finest wine in the world.

Madara pulled away from your swollen cunt, climbing up onto the bed and hovering above you, leaning down to capture your lips in a quick kiss.

"Aren't you a little slut, huh? Getting off on my tongue while your boyfriend watched? You came so quickly, does he not treat you right?" He cooed, brushing a strand of hair away from your eyes.

Kuro, who had been dead quiet the whole time, finally spoke up. "You didn't have to be so rough with her" He grumbled, stroking the top of your head.

Madara huffed, a grin tugging at his lips. "She loves it! Don't you know what your own girlfriend likes?" He rolled his eyes before returning his attention back to your blissed-out form. "Ready for more, sweetheart?"

[sunset-snowfall]

❛ you're so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me. ❜

TOJITOJO

- @dilucs-princess

"You're so good for me..." Toji was on top of you, pinning your wrists together and to the bed with one strong hand while his other supported his weight so he didn't crush you underneath him. As much as he was itching to do so, it wouldn't make your situation any better.

Your body was trapped underneath Toji, struggling to take his huge cock with every fibre in your body. It wasn't easy considering his sheer size advantage over you, but you tried your best, gritting your teeth as you tried to relax and take breaths, tears already pricking in the corners of your eyes.

"Toji, it's not gonna fit!" You mewled, wrists struggling and pulling against Toji's hand as every nerve in your body tried to move away, but he held you in place, kissing you deeply, partly to reassure you and partly to shut you up.

"I know you can do it for me, baby... Come on, take deep breaths with me, you're okay..." He was having a hard time controlling himself and resisting the urge to slam the entirety of his cock deep inside you, but he didn't want to hurt you. He was certain that if he forced things even the slightest bit, he'd break you, and that wasn't what he wanted, not yet.

Toji had spent what felt like hours prepping you, working you open slowly with as many toys as he could get his hands on, but even then, it didn't feel like enough. You were still struggling to take him, your body trying to resist with every piece of energy it had left.

Just as Toji was about to give up and fuck you one last time with the toy that didn't even come close to his side, you took a deep breath and relaxed as best as you could. Both of you gasped, Toji in admiration and satisfaction and you in pain, as the head of Toji's cock finally nudged into your tight heat, making you feel like you were being split in half as three inches of his dick sank into you at once.

You gasped and panted weakly as you desperately tried to accomodate the huge size splitting you open, fingers scratching and gripping at the sheets like was an animal. Above you, Toji was grunting and groaning quietly, doing his absolute best to stay exactly where he was.

It took only a minute or so before you opened your eyes again and blinked up at your husband, entwining your fingers together after you took his hand. "I think I can take a little more... Just... take it slow, please..."

Your husband didn't want to hurt you, so he gritted his teeth with a nod, easing his hips forward very slowly, pushing inch by inch of his cock further inside you, kissing you messily to silence your mewls and whines.

He reluctantly parted from you when he was about halfway inside your heat, groaning quietly as your walls clamped down around him, refusing to allow him any futher.

Toji really didn't want to push you any further than that, so when your moans quietened down, he pulled out slowly until an inch remained insde you, kissing your neck gently as he eased back into you again, stopping himself from going any further than halfway.

Even though he wasn't fully inside you, the feeling of your soft walls clenching around his cock was simply heavenly and so overpowering for a sinner like him. If he was a sinner, then you... well, you were his angel.

"Fuckin' hell, baby... so fuckin' good around me, you feel so good around me..." He muttered those words again and again with each thrust into your tight heat, kissing and sucking small marks into your neck and every now and again.

Despite the initial pain, it was starting to feel incredibly good for you as well, and you found yourself crying out your husband's name, relaxing ever so slightly when he wiped your tears away gently, nothing but praises leaving his scarred lips.

"Can never get enough you, darlin'... You feel so fuckin' good, and so tight aroound this dick... Think you can take a little more, hm?"

And though the question did intimidate you a little but, you knew that you could take it, and you nodded slowly, mouth dropping open in a loud moan when you felt Toji's cock pushing even further into you, a shuddering gasp leaving you when he pressed his hand against your stomach, feeling a small bump that the head of his cock was making from his sheer size.

"There we go, baby, I'm all the way inside... Holy fuck, you're so beautiful..." Toji was like an animal now, panting and groaning on top of you, impatiently waiting for your permission before gripping your hips tight enough to bruise, pulling out slowly before plunging all way back into you, making you scream out loud.

"Fuckin made for me, baby... This body is all mine, got it? You don't belong to anyone but me." His voice was deep and authoritive as he fucked into you over and over again, his own grunts and groans getting louder as yours increased in volume at the same time.

Your orgasm was quickly approaching, and you wrapped your legs around your husband's waist in anticipation, throwing your head back as Toji picked up the pace, fucking you faster than you had ever felt before.

You barely has a second to warn Toji before you were cumming, hard, mouth open in a long and loud moan, body shuddering. It only took a few more thrusts before your husband was cumming too, forehead settled against your shoulder.

"Fuckin' hell, baby... Didn't realise you had it in you... So good for me, yeah? I love you so much..."

[f1daydreamers]

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 [𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟖

photo credits: Pinterest

Pairing: Lance Stroll × Fem!Reader

Summary: Asking the driver of the team you work for to attend a wedding with you as your fake date is possibly one of the dumbest ideas you've had ever.. but also one of the best.

Warnings: angst, Reader being very torn, lots of obliviousness, fluff, emosh, implies smut but none of it, little bit of back and forth but issa good ending ofc :')

Word Count: 4.1k words (15 mins reading time avg)

…

"What is it?"

Tom crosses his arms over his chest, glancing back at Lance and eyeing him suspiciously through the car door window.

He's occupied with his phone but his foot is tapping impatiently against the floor mat in the car.

"Now would be a great time to spit it out," you regain his attention through gritted teeth. Your patience was wearing thin, you had somewhere to be and your ex was holding you up frustratingly slowly.

He lets out a sigh, his eyes darting over your face. He seems on edge.

"I was on Instagram yesterday," his gaze fell to the concrete pavement underfoot and you shrug.

"Congratulations." You retort sarcastically and Tom brings one foot forward towards you, "did you really think nothing was going to come of it?"

You furrow your brows, "come out of what?"

He tuts, finding your stubbornness to read between the lines all the more familiar from when you used to date.

"You and Lance on a 'romantic getaway', maybe you've fooled everyone else but you haven't fooled the press." He air-quoted with his fingers and you felt like the wind had knocked the breath out of your lungs.

"I-I don't see your point." You raise a subconscious barrier, certainly overcome with the realisation that agreeing to speak to him was a big mistake.

Your jaw clenches and you resist the urge to look around you, as if you were going to find a camera blinking back.

"It got online, Y/N. Started from Daisy's Instagram story to the most trending topic on Twitter." He explains, with a level of smugness in his voice that you can't help squinting your eyes at.

He caught you in a lie, but right now, that was the least of your worries.

Fists form by your sides and panic begins settling into your chest. "And how did it get on Twitter in the first place?" The distaste in your tone when you bit back was surely evident.

Bit by bit, you start to feel a sense of chaos enveloping you, like you've somehow misplaced the capacity to hold everything together.

He shrugs mutely but the quirk of his lip makes you think he had a bigger part to play in this fuck-up disguised as a Monday morning.

As your gaze falls, you avoid meeting his eyes again, even when he nudges your arm to recover your waning attention. Detached, you're occupied in crafting a plan to get through the remaining six hours you have left with Lance.

Once that time is up, you'll be free from any scrutiny, whether it be from the media or your family, and finally be done with him.

With all of this.

...

You shouldn't have been so disengaged but you couldn't help it, your thumb endlessly scrolling through Twitter, confirming what Tom had been telling you earlier.

You'd seen only one or two tweets unrelated to the topic since you opened the app a few minutes ago.

You swallow, locking your phone and looking up from your lap. You try to involve yourself in your siblings' conversation but fail miserably, your wandering mind not allowing you to do such a thing as ignore this mess.

Lance is laughing at a video Kevin is showing him, and you wonder if he's seen anything about it yet.

He'd been on his phone in the car after your conversation with your ex had ended, and the object had been with him ever since. You were at the very least surprised nobody had even messaged him yet.

Unless he was playing dumb.

"Y/N, what time you heading out?" Your mind is in a bit of a scramble when your mother perks up with a question, meeting her eyes, you can't help but stutter.

Lance steps in.

"8 o'clock. We're both heading back to the factory." You're grateful but he eyes you questionably, you've had tougher questions than that come at you this weekend.

He smiles at the irony but you don't return it, looking away.

His eyebrows knit together and he presumes whatever your ex had told you was what'd gotten you in a distant mood, he makes a mental note to ask you about it later.

You can feel his eyes trained on you until your brother whisks him away into another conversation.

...

The ride back home's quiet, with the radio airing fresh songs whose lyrics you're not entirely familiar with. However, their tunes are infectious, prompting your fingers to rhythmically tap along.

Lance fidgets with the leather material of the steering wheel, glancing at you every now and again.

After a while, he stretches his hand to the volume knob, reducing it. You sigh inwardly, knowing that he'd picked up on your subdued mood at breakfast, which meant the upcoming conversation was quite a predictable one.

"What did your ex want to tell you?" Lance asks, his voice curious. You press your lips together, absently twisting your cuff bangle around your wrist.

"Nothing." Perhaps if you avoided the topic for long enough, he'd drop it and choose to never touch on it again.

"You spoke for a while. He didn't say anything?" He persisted.

"Has Grace reached out to you?" You pivot away from his previous question by planting another in its place about the team's communications manager.

Lance seems confused as to why it's relevant to the conversation but answers nonetheless.

"Grace? No. Why would she?" You shake your head, not commenting further as you try to muster up a plan and the courage to tell him the truth.

You desperately hoped to avoid his anger, not wanting to sow any seeds of regret in his mind about joining you this weekend.

It's almost comical how rapidly things have unravelled since this morning.

As Lance parks a few feet away from your open driveway, you swiftly step out of the car, leaving him to catch up.

He manages to close the car door just as you round the gate, moving briskly to ascend the patio steps.

He jogs to try and keep with you, skipping the middle step and succeeding when his fingers wrap tightly around your wrist, keeping you from reaching into your bag for the house key.

"Y/N, what's bothering you?" He asks curtly.

Your jaw tightens, the conversation with your ex was replaying in your mind like a relentless torture, preventing you from forgetting it no matter how desperately you wanted to.

An uncertain feeling settles in the pit of your stomach, and you release a shaky breath, deciding to be straightforward.

"He said that-" Your words hang unfinished as you glance up at the front door swinging open. Your sister looks up from her phone, holding a plastic bottle in her other hand.

"Looks like you didn't manage to beat the traffic after all, huh?" She quips, tucking her phone into her jean pocket.

Her gaze shifts between the two of you, a hint of suspicion in her eyes, focusing momentarily on Lance's hand wrapped around your wrist.

He eases it, and Daisy casually tosses the plastic bottle into the recycling bin.

You offer an awkward smile. "Yeah, must be lunchtime at work," you explain. Daisy nods, stepping aside to allow you and Lance to pass before closing the door behind her.

"I'm going to get back to packing," you add, slipping off your flats and hopping onto the first step of the staircase.

You notice Daisy raising her finger at Lance, and you swiftly intervene, "Dais, he didn't do anything." You assert and she lowers her finger back to her side.

Despite being younger, she's remarkably swift to defend her siblings whenever necessary, often disregarding external opinions, even if those opinions are attempting to correct her misjudgement.

"Better not have," she mutters, giving Lance a once-over before heading off to the kitchen.

You release a sigh as the door creaks shut, avoiding his lingering gaze and resuming your retreat up to your bedroom to finish off packing your suitcase.

...

You delicately place your rings back into the small gaps amidst the cushions of the jewellery box, your throat tightening as the sound of Lance adjusting his gym bag reaches your ears from the distant corner of the room.

Silence hung between you both ever since he ascended the stairs a few minutes after you had entered your room.

Passing a hand through his hair, he looked up at you while you zipped up the jewellery box. You shifted to the opposite side of the bed, unlatching your closed suitcase then bending down to retrieve the laundry basket, placing it on to the bed with a gentle plop.

"Can you please talk to me? Tell me the truth or even tell me a lie, but just say something," he implores. Your shoulders slumping as you methodically fold your clean laundry into your suitcase, your actions momentarily faltering.

His voice carried a note of pleading, and your continued silence only reinforced the notion that something was wrong. It went beyond the subdued atmosphere during breakfast and the unrelated question in the car.

“The press knows, Lance.” You say firmly.

"What?" he responds, though he clearly heard every word.

You observe the shift in his expression, the gentleness giving way to a hardened look. Your words momentarily escape you, leaving you with an urge to resume folding, using it as a feeble distraction.

“What do you mean the press knows?” He says concisely and you shut your eyes, your gaze facing downward.

“About this, us, I don’t know.” your voice wavers as you try to explain..

“He told you that?” No name was mentioned but the contempt in his voice gives room for enough assumption to be made.

“Yes,” you confirm quietly.

“Of course he did.” He mutters under his breath but you hear it anyway. Your eyebrows knit together subtly, “what do you mean?”

He locks eyes with you, and if you said that the chill in his gaze didn't give you a slight shiver of intimidation, you'd be lying.

“What did I ask you when he showed up at the door? I asked you why you were still bothering with him?” He stresses breathily, overwhelmed by the situation.

“I told you it didn’t mean anything. I didn’t know this is what he’d tell me.” You counter.

“He probably had a part to play in it,” Lance assumes and you shake your head, “there’s nothing to gain. With Tom, it’s all talk. Going to the press just - it doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t need to make sense, how is he conveniently the only one who knows about it?” He lowers his voice and you blink, averting your gaze. He had a point.

“I’ll talk to Grace, this’ll be fixed.” You try to assure him, picking your phone up from the bedside table.

“By doing what, telling everyone this was a lie?” He bristles and a twinge of pain overcomes your chest.

“Guess that was the whole point anyway.” he grinds out the last part of his sentence in a harsh whisper, his jaw clenching. You stiffen, his words carry a sting with them.

The realisation of the situation hits you, what he had mentioned to your mother about the challenges of maintaining a relationship in the public eye had practically come to fruition.

Though a relationship was far from what you had.

“This was all fake, wasn’t it?” you murmur, directing the question more towards yourself than the man standing before you.

"What?" He asks, having caught only a faint mumble escaping your lips. You shake your head, swallowing your words, focused on not letting them slip out again.

…

“Okay, yeah, we’re uh, we’re on our way soon.” You conclude the call, a small sense of relief washing over you after speaking to Grace.

She'd appeared relatively composed despite you having explained the situation to her in an undeniable panic.

You slide the phone face down on to the counter in the bathroom, leaning your head on the door, hoping that no one needed to relieve themselves in the next five minutes it would probably take for you to process your own thoughts.

You wince a touch as you recall the words that last fell from Lance’s mouth.

A lie was what it was, but it was strangely intense hearing it tumble from his lips.

Considering the feelings you only recently and barely had admitted to yourself and him, the weight of all of that felt as if it was coming down on you now.

But the bandage around your knee, the burden of responsibility, the dancing, the kisses, the way his gaze held you. Him. They all form as a defence argument inside your mind as you rattle through the weekend, it can't all have been fake.

You carelessly yearn for the weekend's routine – his presence, sharing laughter over the words he adopted from your uncle, the pushes into the swimming pool, the undeniable escalation of tension between you.

You realised it yesterday, though you never wanted to admit it. When his lips gravitated towards yours and his grip on your waist tightened, you realised.

You realised you’re in love with Lance Stroll. How irresponsible.

...

You quickly wipe away the tear sliding down your cheek, stealing a glance at the taxi driver who thankfully remained oblivious. You were a few minutes away from the factory, Grace emailed you this morning to call you in for a PR meeting but the topic of it was naturally foreseeable.

You hadn't yet managed to build up enough courage to text Lance, thank him for the days he wasted away to fabricate a relationship, despite it not lasting long. By the time you'd arrived back at your apartment, your sister had left you a few messages, screenshots of her Twitter feed.

She had reluctantly agreed not to inform your parents. The situation was already fraught with complexity, and having your parents involved would only make matters worse.

You offer a small, not overly enthusiastic smile as you step into the meeting room and catch sight of Lance, Grace, and the familiar members of the communications department all awaiting your arrival.

While Grace briefed everyone on the purpose of the meeting, the only faces that didn't register surprise were yours, hers, and his. You kept your gaze directed downward, fiddling with the rings on your fingers, your expression revealing nothing.

"Y/N, you mentioned you had something to share," Grace prompts, and you lift your gaze, nodding slightly. You take a moment to gauge the atmosphere in the room before you begin speaking.

"Yeah, thank you. I just wanted to say I'm uh I'm sorry for this. Perhaps I was being reckless for not thinking about the damage it might do beforehand, it was only supposed to be a simple favour." You admit, accompanied by a nervous smile.

Lance glances at you, his hands diving deeper into his pockets, inadvertently tearing apart the tissues crammed within them with his fingers.

You couldn't find any faults in their strategy to handle the potential public backlash, though at the moment, there wasn't much of it. However, Grace didn't omit the fact that the fallout could arise if indirect communication between the team and the fans was completely severed.

Several team members chimed in, contributing potential pros and cons to each of the strategies Grace had outlined. After around an hour of deliberation, with back-and-fourths aplenty, the group finally settled on the most suitable course of action.

“Lance, anything to add?” He broke his gaze away and looked up at the manager, “no. Sounds good.”

You acknowledge the fact that he seems entirely disinterested in what was happening in front of him but for good reason. You were the one who dragged him into this so in turn, it seemed unfair that he was one who had to bear the consequences of dealing with it as well.

When the meeting wrapped up, Grace allowed everyone to leave the room but you. You hoped this wouldn’t be a reprimand but you can’t deny that you had been holding a faint expectation of one.

“Y/N, I’m not that old,” your eyebrows draw together in confusion and she continues, “but I can pick up on a few things every now and again.”

You struggle to maintain the conversation, your lips parting as you respond, "I-I'm not sure what you mean."

"I'm certain this past weekend has been quite eventful, full of surprises," she emphasises, and perhaps you're leaning on the side of obliviousness because you still can't quite grasp the significance of her words.

Seemingly filled with riddles, you couldn't help but think.

“There’s a way that this entire situation could be fixed before we’d even have to step in.” Grace concedes, her words leaving a weighty impression on you, their meaning gradually becoming clearer as her sentences unfold.

“I see the way he looks at you,” she confesses quietly and you swallow.

Your gaze drops and her eyes narrow, “what is it that you’re not telling me?” Her attention to detail leaves you slightly frustrated, yet you can't help but acknowledge that it's this very trait which helps her excel at her job.

You waver in your decision, but you'd been carrying this weight within you for nearly a week. Thus, when the words begin to spill out of your mouth, you don't feel any remorse for your lack of restraint.

“He told me it was a lie. How can I tell someone who told me this was practically bullshit that I lo-” You cut yourself off, the words catching in your throat as you shift uneasily on your feet, feeling tears well up in your eyes.

"Do one better. Tell him the truth."

...

The Friday morning, two days after your brief conversation with Grace left you realising that she was right. The words you needed to express couldn't linger unsaid any longer. They had been gnawing at you, a constant replay of Lance's words echoing in your mind.

She appeared rather pleased that you chose to heed her suggestion when you approached her in the office. With her help, you managed to secure permission from the chief engineer, granting you the opportunity to visit the pit garage during track time at Silverstone.

Deciding to give him some time for his laps, you instead opted to stand on the balcony directly above the track, taking in the view. As you watched, nerves arose again upon seeing the engineers guide his car back into the garage.

It takes you a bit of time to reach the garage, as it's quite a distance to cover. However, the absence of crowds and the limited presence of other teams in the paddock make your journey a little quicker. You glance around his section of the garage, trying to spot him, but it's him who spots you first.

His smile wavers, and his ongoing conversation with an engineer comes to an abrupt stop. His race suit hangs around his waist, and his helmet rests on the counter behind him.

Navigating past a couple of engineers, you approach him, and he moves toward you with measured steps. His gaze roves across your features, seeking clues about your unexpected presence, but your expression reveals little beyond a gentle demeanour.

You take a breath through your nose, forcing a smile to greet him instead of merely gazing in silence. It's the first time you've been in such close proximity to him since the wedding day, a time that holds positive memories for a change.

"I, uh," your words falter in your throat, and you clench your jaw in an attempt to gather yourself. He remains silent, admiring.

“Do you have a minute?” You ask, a little quieter. He nods curtly, prompting you to follow him, probably to a place that wasn’t full of engineers and various personnel.

You allow him to guide you into what appears to be a communal drivers' room, presumably accessible to any driver in need. Once you're inside, he shuts the door behind you.

The confined space of the room doesn't escape your notice, but you choose not to focus on it. Instead, you concentrate on gathering your words.

Eventually, the only thing that does manage to come out is, “was it all a lie?” You ask in a whisper, though audible enough for him to hear.

Lance lifts his eyebrows in surprise, clearly not anticipating the direction that the conversation has taken. It seems your question caught him off guard.

As he remains silent, you interpret his lack of response as an invitation to elaborate on what you're asking, “what you said. There being something between us.”

He approaches you in the small space, his lips parting as he searches for the right words. “You know it wasn’t a lie.” You exhale a quiet sigh of relief, the similar emotions you’d been feeling the night on the dance floor stirring within you again.

It was a warm feeling. A comforting one.

His presence evokes memories of that night at the club, a feeling of protection enveloping you as if he were a shield of safety. However, the current proximity feels incomplete, lacking his touch on any part of your body – not around your waist, not on your arms, nor on your hips.

Perhaps, after pulling him into your mess, you deserved this sense of deprivation, as if it were a consequence of your own actions.

Several moments pass in silence within the room, a lapse in time that you're only drawn out of when he places his hand on your neck, his thumb gently tracing your jawline.

The touch pulls you back to the present, and his gaze moves from your eyes to your lips, his intention clear.

“I think I might go crazy if I don’t tell you this in the next ten seconds,” you breathily admit and Lance’s eyebrow quirks up in curiosity.

“Want me to start counting?” You scoff, a small smile tugging at your lips as you shake your head. His lack of seriousness manages to alleviate the tension slightly, making the impending conversation a touch more manageable.

"I, uh," you stutter, and he senses your nervousness, granting you a bit more time even though the ten seconds were swiftly ticking away.

"I'm in love with you," you blurt out, and a slight smile tugs at the corner of his lips. His gaze locks onto yours, the tension between you escalating threefold more than the time you had left things unresolved by the swimming pool all those days ago.

"I, uh, I didn't quite catch that," he replies and your eyes narrow. You tilt your head, offering him a silent caution. He grins, "what?"

"Don't. Don't make me do it again," you warn him playfully. A soft chuckle escapes his lips, and you can't help but smile in response.

"Why? Did you not mean to say-" Refusing to let him complete his sentence, you fist his shirt in your hand and pull him towards you. Your lips crash together in a fervent kiss, and he yields to your lead as you guide him backward until his back meets the wooden cupboard.

His hands tenderly cradle your cheeks before sliding down to your waist, drawing you closer to him. You succumb to the sensation of his touch, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your top. The warmth of his palm against your bare skin rekindles a familiar sensation within you, one you had sorely missed.

A soft moan escapes your lips as his hand exerts pressure on your skin. "Lance," you murmur against his lips, pulling back slightly, but only by a few inches. His hand shifts to your back, preventing you from retreating any further.

Guilt washes over you as you come to the realisation that you could have had this moment much earlier. "I wish I had listened to you. I wish I hadn't heard him out," you confess, whispering.

"Hey," he murmurs, his touch gentle as he traces over the skin you only ever want him to touch. His gaze meets yours, and his eyes reflect a desire that you're certain he had kept hidden until now.

“I’m way too fucking in love with you to give a shit about that.. prick.” You chuckle softly, but his gaze remains fixed on you.

"I'd offer to take you out to dinner, but that seems like too small a repayment now," he says, and you blink, acutely attuned to his words.

“What do you have in mind?” Your fingers gently threading through his hair as your hand settles at the back of his neck.

"A few things," he replies, his smile warm and suggestive.

He continues and you blush when you feel his thumb fiddling with the band of your bra. “Just me and you, what do you say to another weekend away?”

...

A/N: AND THAT IS A WRAP! Seriously though, thank you all so much for your support during this lil mini-series, it’s truly been so motivating <33 I’ll be hard at work writing again after a lil break so this is a reminder to make you sure you take care of yourself too, and put yourself first!!

Mwah, love you all loads ;)

Masterlist

Taglist: @fantasticbouquetwitchsthings @topguncultleader @spicyclover @amirahart @softiecaro @alilstressyandlotdepressy @eugene-emt-roe @e-lisa-bettan @strolleclercs @jjsprobablywrong @carmelita-holland @flowerchild-96 @honethatty12 @gaslysainz @pierre-gasssllyy @lestappenloverr @chiliwhore @mentallyunstablebish @mcmuppet @xscorpioxmoon @ferrariloverr @rivivie @starkeyellow @vanillascreams @tororossoseb-blog @hiphopdancer101universe @hc-dutch @chonkybonky @natasharomanoffisbaebby @little-angel-07 @lxnceclercs @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @hockey-racing-fubol @honeyric3 @purplephantomwolf @mindflay3r @ttzjune @xitsyaiizax @dylylylylyly @rd14 @secretlyangrymagazine @love4lando @vildetry-06 @sharllec @aundercover @mloyer @alesainz @cinnamonroll2003 @nikki01234 @junhuilvrrr @f1-hyperfixation

[steddieas-shegoes]

if youre still doing the headcanons- "what is he doing here?"

Steve hadn't seen Eddie in two years. Hadn't talked to him in nearly three. He'd worked pretty hard to not have to hear anything about him or see any news about him for most of that time, too.

So when he sees him sitting on Dustin's couch, lounging, as if he belongs there, he gets a little pissed.

"What is he doing here?" He asks Dustin through gritted teeth.

Dustin failed to mention that anyone else would be at his house for their monthly dinner, let alone that Eddie would be here.

That Eddie was even back in Hawkins.

Eddie overheard him, sitting up on the couch quickly and staring at them both.

"Eddie's in town to visit with Wayne and he stopped by to say hi."

"And he's leaving?"

Eddie looked down at the floor.

Was he...sad? He looked sad.

Steve refused to care, he couldn't care. Not with how Eddie left.

No note, no phone call, just an apology through Dustin as if he should have ever been put in the middle of whatever they had.

But if he was this sad, maybe something was wrong with Wayne? Steve admittedly hadn't checked in with him in a few months, his questioning about what happened between them often leaving him feeling drained.

"No, he's not leaving." Dustin looked between them with an angry glare. "Neither of you are leaving actually. Not until you at least talk about things like adults. You don't have to be friends or whatever, but you damn sure can't keep doing what you're doing. Steve's miserable, Eddie's pretending he isn't. Fix it before we all tie you down and make you."

"Dust-"

"No!" Dustin held his hand up as Eddie tried to speak. "Fix it. I'm going to call Suzie and when I come back, you better at least be able to look at each other."

The next few minutes were silent. Awkward.

Painful.

He noted every physical change in Eddie, saw how thin he was, how the dark circles under his eyes had somehow gotten worse despite the fact that he'd left to make it big and succeeded. He should be happy.

He should be thriving.

He got everything he wanted.

He left Steve behind so he could.

"I guess we should at least talk a little," Eddie finally said, voice much quieter than Steve had ever heard it before.

"Sure."

Steve sat on the other end of the couch from Eddie, looked straight ahead so he could avoid making eye contact.

"I don't know if you keep up with me or anything-"

"I don't."

It was harsh, harsher than Steve actually meant to be. He saw Eddie flinch out of the corner of his eye, resisted the urge to apologize.

"Um. Okay, yeah. Makes sense." Eddie sighed. "I'm kind of. Okay, so I'm in Hawkins for more than just visiting Wayne."

"Okay."

"I'm here because the label isn't happy with my writer's block and they told me to take a couple months and write an album or they'll consider the contract voided."

"Mhm."

Eddie was bouncing his leg, an old anxious habit that clearly hasn't gone away.

"I'm hoping being back here will help. But I also just. I want to spend time with the people I care about. I miss everyone."

"Yeah, I bet."

"I miss you."

Steve's head turned to see Eddie looking at him, unshed tears building in his eyes.

"Eddie-"

"I know I have no right to say it. Or to even be here. I didn't just leave you, I left everyone. And I barely gave any explanation and I've barely kept in touch with anyone except Wayne and Dustin because I'm scared. I'm so overwhelmed all the time and I have so much pressure on me and I didn't want any of that I just wanted to make music and see the world. I haven't slept more than a few hours in two years. When I told our manager, he said to start taking cocaine. Taking it! Like it's medication! And I did actually use it a few times to stay awake. I hate it, hate the way I feel after, but it was that or fall asleep during photoshoots. And this sounds like I'm whining, but I'm just trying to keep it together long enough to make sure Wayne doesn't see how much I hate this and how much I just want to be here playing music at stupid bars and going fishing with him even though I hate fishing and playing D&D with the guys and kissing you."

Steve was biting back his own tears as Eddie's fell.

No matter what, no matter how he felt, no matter what Eddie had done to hurt him, it still hurt to see someone he loved hurting like this.

And wasn't that a thought.

He knew he still loved Eddie, he always would.

He just didn't think he would ever have to face it head on like this.

"Eddie, I." Steve cleared his throat. "I'm sorry things aren't what you wanted, but. I can't. I can't let you in again. I spent a year trying to tell myself you'd be back. A year watching your every move in newspapers and tv interviews. Waiting for the day you'd mention me or come visit and apologize for leaving like you did. But you didn't and I had to accept that. I had to force myself to believe that you didn't care because thinking that you did hurt worse. I couldn't love you the way I wanted to, so I had to tell myself you didn't love me, even though I'm pretty sure you did. I'm pretty sure you still do. But it wasn't enough then and it wouldn't be enough now, and I can't let myself settle for not enough. I've done it before, you know how that fucked me up. I can't let it happen again."

Eddie nodded once, then stood up.

He was leaving again, Steve knew it.

But then, Eddie sunk to his knees in front of Steve, placed his shaking hands on Steve's knees.

"If you tell me to stay, I will."

"Eddie-"

"No. Please. Tell me to stay. I don't want to go back and I need you to tell me to stay. Even if you never talk to me again, I need you to be the reason I give the guys when I tell them I can't do it anymore. They'll understand if it's you. They always knew it would be you."

"Stay. You need to stay."

Eddie sobbed as he dropped his head down, resting his forehead against Steve's knee.

Steve placed a hand on the back of his head, biting back a sob as Eddie's hands squeezed his legs.

Steve couldn't do this right now, he didn't think Eddie could either. Emotions were too high, Dustin was in the room down the hall, and Steve knew there would be yelling, and crying, and words said that might lead to regret.

But it was something to have Eddie here, something to have him begging for Steve to be the one to tell him to stay, something to know that Eddie missed him the way Steve missed them.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 5

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You’re out of breath and about to scream. Your hips feel like they’re splitting in half as your lower back burns. You sit at the side of the bed in the mess of the duvet and top sheet. You want to just sprawl out and never move again but you can’t spend another day in bed. It’s starting to get grim.

You inhale and brace the edge of the bed. You force yourself to your feet with a repressed grunt and turn slowly. The pain doesn’t relent as you move stiffly around and pull straight the top sheet, tidying the duvet around it as best you can. You bend over the mattress, holding yourself up on shaky arms as you try not to collapse entirely. That was a mistake, you don’t know if you can get up again.

Lloyd enters as your internal struggle mounts and you quickly focus on smoothing the blankets. He doesn’t need to see your plight. You hold the air in your lungs until it sears and urge yourself back as you plant your feet. It’s going to hurt but you need to stand the fuck up.

“Look at you, peaches,” Lloyd’s hand jars you suddenly as he spanks you mercilessly.

Your eyes prick and you fall across the bed, letting out a yelp as you roll onto your side. You touch your lower back and grit your teeth. You shift onto your back and sit up with a snarl.

“What the fuck?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he rolls his eyes dismissively, “got you a gift, doll face.”

He waggles a small white bag with wire handles before you. You stare as a spasm pinches in your back. You clasp your knees and focus on your posture. Your efforts to appear normal do no favours for the agony coiling up your spine.

“A gift?”

“Sorry, it’s not a dildo to make up for my absence,” he holds it out, “but maybe next time.”

You look him over. Black turtleneck under a black zip-up jacket, black pants, leather boots. He’s on his way to whatever it is he does. You even see a hint of his holster beneath his open jacket. You take the bag and put it in your lap.

“I think I’ll survive,” you sigh.

“Just open it,” he insists.

You look down and reach into the bag. You pull out the white box inside and wiggle off the lid. A cell phone. You furrow your brow and turn it over to examine the rose shell.

“Pink?” You wonder aloud.

“Is that it? You don’t like the colour?”

“No, I love it,” you say dryly as you glance up at him, “why are you giving me this?”

“Well, baby cakes, you can go ahead and dial 911 all you want, it’s not gonna work and we both know the cops can’t do shit. This is for emergencies only. My number’s in there and you can call if you need anything.”

“Call?”

He nods as he clamps his lips together tightly, frustrating twitching in his cheek, “uh, yeah, call me if you need anything. Or the baby. I don’t know. Just, you got a phone okay. And you can order all the greasy gross pickles you want.”

“Great, that’s so… thoughtful?”

“Practical,” he corrects you, “you got a passenger on board, gotta make sure the flight is smooth.”

You shake your head and he steps forward. You want to lean away but if you do that, you’re going to crumble and not be able to recover. He bends and grabs your chin.

“I don’t know, download some games or some shit, keep yourself busy,” his lips slant before they meet yours. You murmur in surprise but resist the recoil that knots in your shoulders. He parts and gives a wink, “I’ll be back soon, Mrs. Hansen.”

“Alright,�� you sit, holding back the pain as you watch him dully. You need him to go so you can fall apart. “Have a good trip?”

“Ah, peaches, you don’t gotta pretend for me,” he pokes your cheek mockingly, “you can’t wait for me to be gone, but you know what they say, absence makes the dick harder or some shit.” You raise your brows at him, unamused and he backs away, checking his watch, “right. Into the shit I go.”

He marches to the door and pauses at the threshold, “pick a dress before I get back. I’m tried of looking at those things.”

“Me too,” you sneer.

“Just do it,” he points at you before he continues through the door.

You wait, frozen as you listen to his departure. Footfalls down the stairs and smoothly across the entryway. The front door shuts with a subtle click and the security system beeps. You groan and drop the phone as you fold onto your side. 

It’s all his fault. It’s never been this bad and in the end, you can find no cause that doesn’t trace back to him. Whether it’s the stress, the child, or the man himself. Lloyd has made himself an actual pain in your back.

💎

After a day languishing in bed with a few treacherous trips to the bathroom, you manage to drag yourself downstairs and settle on the couch with several pillows and a blanket. You can’t stand the silence anymore. You flip on the television as you sink into the lofty cushion and flick through the recent additions.

You put on a mindless thriller, some nonsense produced by the streaming service to scrape a few bucks off of redundant tropes. You don’t care much or pay attention as you’re distracted by the cell phone. As Lloyd promised, dialing out doesn’t work and all social apps are blocked. 

You download some mobile matching games and a word app that makes you want to break the damn phone in half. Bored with the quickly repetitive puzzles, you flick through the other icons in the menu. ‘MyPregnancy tracker’. He has a weird way of being considerate and it just irritates you further.

You lock the screen and dump the phone above your head on the end table. You grumble and shift onto your side to focus on the gunfight you have no context for. You close your eyes as you try to ignore the thrumming in your hip bones and the tightness in your muscles. You stomach echoes your misery.

You doze in and out until the credits roll before you find the energy to sit up and search the delivery app. No more pizza. The heartburn wasn’t worth the tangy crispy goodness of the pickles. You opt instead for some Mexican and wonder if that won’t have the same result.

You put on another movie without reading the synopsis. You’re too racked with pain to pay attention. You close your eyes and wait with the phone in hand, impatient for the soft buzz of the next notification.

Another hour out and you get the message that your courier is about to arrive. You drag yourself up and barely get off the couch without falling back. You amble around, gripping one hip as you hunch slightly. You near the door and watch through the window. Headlights pull down the drive and you ready yourself for the brief face-to-face for the hand off. You don’t look great.

As the driver knocks, you open the door and smile. You gave him a nice tip on Lloyd’s dime. You thank him and claim your food eagerly. You twist the lock into space and turn, forgetting yourself as the urgent hunger goads you. 

A stabbing spikes up your spine and across your hips. You cry out and stumble, catching yourself on the side table and hit the wall with your shoulder. You slide down to your ass, cradling your meal in your lap as you surrender to the sheer agony. 

Nestled in the corner behind the door, you look and search for the strength to get up. You push the food beside your knee and reach up. You try to lift yourself with the table but exclaim and drop back to the floor. Fuck, fuck, it hurts so much. You can’t move.

You blow out a breath at the ceiling and sit in your futility for some time. The scent of the burrito tugs at your nose and you sigh as you reach blindly for the bag. You unfold the top of the brown paper and reach inside. May as well eat and figure it out after.