#but obvs any pairing is fine! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theonottsbxtch · 2 months ago

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PREACHER’S DAUGHTER | MV1

an: can you tell i have an amazing music taste, anyway i’m finishing up a lot of my wips this weekend therefore be ready for a bit of stuff to come out!! i need to update my master list

warnings: domestic abuse, religious themes obvs

wc: 10.2k

Max was never one for church.

Never believed in any of that.

But God, would he get on his knees for a girl.

He couldn’t even remember when he first saw her—it was like she’d always been there, glowing in a way that made his chest tighten and his palms itch to touch what he had no business reaching for.

She was perfect in that untouchable kind of way. Always smiling, always polite. The kind of girl who said "please" and "thank you" without sounding fake. She had a laugh that could make angels jealous and a silver cross around her neck that caught the light just right, like some divine shield.

And Max? He was everything she wasn’t. Grease under his nails, a cigarette always tucked behind his ear, and a devil-may-care attitude that had sent half the town clutching their pearls. He’d been watching her for weeks now, maybe months. The way she walked, her little rituals—Bible study on Wednesday nights, choir practice on Saturdays, and the absolute certainty that she’d be on her family’s porch every evening at seven, helping her mom snap beans or some other domestic chore that Max couldn’t wrap his head around.

She didn’t belong in his world. Hell, she probably didn’t even know it existed. But that didn’t stop him from wanting her. No, needing her.

It was the way she looked so... pure, he supposed. Untouched by the grime and shadows he carried around like second skin. And it wasn’t just her innocence he wanted to wreck. It was the thought of making her his—really his. Of seeing her in his world, in his trailer, on his bike, wearing his marks, not that dainty little cross that probably smelled of Sunday mornings and lavender soap.

Max didn’t follow her. Not exactly. But he always seemed to know where she’d be, and tonight wasn’t any different. Wednesday night Bible study. He parked his beat-up car down the street from the little white church, hidden enough to keep from drawing attention. Not that anyone would think twice—it wasn’t like he blended in with the choir crowd.

The stained-glass windows glowed softly, warm light spilling out into the cool evening air. He could hear the faint hum of voices, maybe a hymn being sung, as he leaned back against the hood of his car and waited. He lit another cigarette, the flicker of the lighter briefly illuminating the sharp lines of his face.

When the front doors finally swung open, he straightened, tossing the half-smoked cigarette onto the pavement and crushing it under his boot. She was the last to leave, as he knew she would be. Everyone else had trickled out in pairs and groups, chatting and laughing as they headed home. But she stayed behind, always locking up on her own.

Tonight, she was struggling with a box full of what looked like hymnals and Bible study materials, juggling it while trying to fit the key into the heavy wooden doors. Max could see the way her fingers fumbled, her brow furrowing in frustration.

Before he could think better of it, he started across the street. The click of his boots on the pavement caught her attention, and she turned her head sharply, her soft eyes widening as she saw him.

“Need a hand?” he asked, his voice low, almost teasing.

She hesitated, her gaze flicking from his face to the box in her arms and then back again. He noticed how she clutched it tighter, like she wasn’t sure if she should trust him.

“It’s fine,” she said quickly, her voice as soft and sweet as he’d imagined. “I’ve got it.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” he said, stepping closer. Before she could protest, he reached out and took the box from her. Their fingers brushed, and the contrast hit him like a punch to the gut. Her hands were soft, smooth, and clean, while his were rough, calloused, and stained with grease that never seemed to wash off.

“Thanks,” she said reluctantly, looking up at him. He noticed how small she seemed compared to him, how her cross caught the light even in the dark.

“You’re the boy that fixes Daddy’s car,” she said after a beat. “From the shop in town.”

Max raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Didn’t know you knew me.”

“I don’t,” she said quickly, her cheeks flushing. “I just… heard Daddy talking about you. Said you do good work.”

He smirked at that, carrying the box like it weighed nothing and setting it gently down beside her. “Guess I’m a little famous, then.”

She laughed softly, and it was the kind of sound that made something deep in his chest tighten. She reached for her key again, this time managing to lock the doors without the box in her way.

“Thanks for the help,” she said, stepping back and brushing her hands against her skirt.

“Anytime,” he replied, his grin widening. He leaned against the doors, watching her as she adjusted her bag over her shoulder. “What’s your name?”

She hesitated for a moment, her lips parting as if she were about to answer, but then she shook her head. “I should go. My family will be waiting.”

And just like that, she was walking away, her head held high, her skirt swaying gently with each step.

Max watched her until she disappeared around the corner, his grin fading into something darker, more determined.

“See you around,” he muttered under his breath.

Because he would. One way or another.

Max didn’t see her again for days, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t on his mind. She had a way of lingering there, like the scent of rain after a storm—clean, fresh, and completely out of place in his world.

The more he thought about her, the more he couldn’t shake the way her voice had sounded when she’d called him "the boy that fixes Daddy’s car." There was no judgment in it, no disdain. Just a simple observation, like she hadn’t even realised how different their worlds were.

But Max knew. Oh, he knew.

She was the preacher’s daughter, for God’s sake. The girl who probably spent her nights reading scripture and praying for sinners like him. And he? He was the guy people crossed the street to avoid, the one mothers warned their daughters about. He’d left home at fifteen, slept on park benches and under bridges until he’d scraped together enough to buy that rusted-out trailer. He worked double shifts at the garage, spent his weekends drinking cheap beer with guys who wouldn’t bat an eye at a bar fight, and had a reputation that kept most people from looking him in the eye.

He wasn’t good enough for her. He knew that.

Didn’t mean he didn’t want her anyway.

The next Wednesday, he found himself back outside the church, parked in the same spot as before. He hadn’t planned it—at least, that’s what he told himself. But when he saw her again, her laugh carrying across the parking lot as she said goodbye to the last of her Bible study group, he felt that same pull in his chest.

This time, he didn’t approach her. Not yet. Instead, he leaned against his shit box car and watched as she locked the doors, her movements quick and practiced. She wasn’t carrying anything tonight, but she still seemed to pause for a moment, glancing around like she could feel his eyes on her.

He ducked his head, pretending to light a cigarette even though it was already burning. When he glanced back up, she was gone.

The next few days passed in a blur of oil changes, engine repairs, and sleepless nights. Max couldn’t shake the image of her—the way her hands had brushed his, the way she’d looked at him like she was trying to figure him out.

By the time Sunday rolled around, he couldn’t stay away.

He parked his bike a few blocks from the church, out of sight, and watched as families filed in for the morning service. They were all dressed in their Sunday best—dads in pressed suits, moms in floral dresses, kids squirming in their fancy clothes.

And then there she was, walking up the steps with her family. She wore a white dress that stopped just below her knees, her hair pulled back in a way that showed off the delicate line of her neck. The silver cross around her neck gleamed in the sunlight, and Max found himself staring at it, wondering what it would look like tangled with the chains he wore.

Her father was at her side, his hand resting protectively on her shoulder as he greeted the congregation. He was everything Max wasn’t—clean-cut, well-spoken, a man who commanded respect just by standing there.

Max stayed until the doors closed behind her, then turned and walked back to his bike.

He didn’t know what he was doing, or why he couldn’t just let it go. All he knew was that he’d see her again.

And when he did, he’d make her notice him.

Max didn’t plan to follow her after the service, not really. But when he saw her step out of the church alone, her family nowhere in sight, curiosity got the better of him. She walked with purpose, her hands clutching a small book—probably her Bible, he figured—and her expression calm, like she knew exactly where she was going.

He stayed a block or so behind, keeping his footsteps quiet on the pavement. She didn’t seem like the type to sneak off after church, and yet, here she was, turning off the main road and heading toward the park.

When she reached a shaded bench near the pond, she sat down, smoothing her dress before opening her book. Max hung back, watching as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and began to read, her lips moving silently.

He couldn’t stop himself. Hands shoved in his pockets, he sauntered over, his boots crunching on the gravel path. She looked up as he approached, her eyes widening for a moment before settling into something softer, almost expectant.

“I told my daddy I saw you,” she said, closing the book and resting it on her lap.

Max raised an eyebrow, his smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And what did he say?”

“That I shouldn’t hang around with people like you,” she replied simply, her voice steady, but her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the book.

He stepped closer, leaning down slightly so they were almost at eye level. “But I don’t see you running,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

Her cheeks flushed, but she held his gaze, her expression unflinching. “I’ve noticed you, you know,” she said, tilting her head. “You’re always… around. Outside the church. Watching.”

He straightened up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can’t help it,” he admitted. “You’re hard to ignore.”

She blinked, her lashes fluttering like she wasn’t sure what to make of that. Then, to his surprise, she smiled—a small, hesitant thing that made his chest ache in a way he wasn’t used to.

“I’ve been praying for you,” she said softly, her hands tightening on the book.

Max couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him, low and rough. “Praying for me, huh? What for?”

“That you’ll find peace,” she said simply, her voice so earnest it made him pause.

He looked at her, really looked at her—the way the sunlight caught in her hair, the way her fingers trembled just a little against the leather cover of her book, the way she seemed so fragile and so unshakable all at once.

“Peace,” he repeated, the word foreign on his tongue. “You think that’s something I’m missing?”

Her smile grew just a fraction, her eyes softening. “Don’t you?”

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He wanted to laugh it off, to brush her words aside like they didn’t hit somewhere deep and uncomfortable. But the way she was looking at him made it impossible.

She shifted slightly on the bench, her hands resting in her lap as she looked at him. “Everyone finds their way,” she said softly, her voice carrying the kind of conviction that made Max’s chest ache. “One way or another. You just have to be willing to see it.”

Max wanted to scoff, to tell her he didn’t have a “way” to find, but the words died in his throat when he noticed it—a faint bruise just below the cuff of her sleeve, barely visible as she adjusted the book in her lap. His eyes narrowed, the casual smirk on his face fading.

“What happened there?” he asked, nodding toward her arm.

She followed his gaze, quickly tugging her sleeve down to cover the mark. “Oh, that?” She gave a small, nervous laugh. “It’s nothing. I play volleyball sometimes with the girls from church. Just got a little too close to the net.”

Max didn’t buy it. The way she spoke, the way her fingers tightened on the fabric of her dress—it didn’t add up. But he didn’t push. Not yet.

“You sure about that?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

She nodded quickly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Positive.”

The silence between them stretched, and Max could feel the distance growing, even though they were sitting inches apart.

“I should get home,” she said suddenly, standing and smoothing out her skirt. “It’s getting late.”

He watched as she picked up her book and slung her bag over her shoulder, the hesitant smile she gave him feeling more like a goodbye than a see-you-later.

“You walking?” he asked, standing as well.

She nodded. “It’s not far.”

He didn’t offer to walk her, knowing she’d probably say no. Instead, he stayed where he was, watching her disappear down the path until she was out of sight.

The next Wednesday, Max found himself back at the church. He hadn’t planned it—at least, that’s what he told himself—but when he saw her locking up the doors again, he couldn’t stop himself from approaching.

She glanced up as he stepped up to the doors, her face lighting up with a mixture of surprise and something softer that made his chest tighten.

“You’re here again,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of teasing.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he replied, leaning casually against the doorframe.

She hesitated for a moment, then tilted her head toward the doors. “Do you want to see the inside?”

Max raised an eyebrow. “You offering to give me a tour?”

“Maybe,” she said with a small smile. “If you’re interested.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Show me.”

She unlocked the doors and pushed them open, leading him into the dimly lit sanctuary. The air was cool and quiet, the kind of silence that felt heavier than normal.

“This is where we hold services,” she said, gesturing toward the rows of wooden pews. “And over there is the choir loft.”

Max followed her, his eyes drifting over the stained-glass windows and the simple but elegant decor. It wasn’t the kind of place he ever pictured himself in, but being here with her made it feel… different.

“And where do you ask for forgiveness?” he asked, his voice low as he stepped closer to her.

She paused, then turned and led him to the front of the church. “Here,” she said, motioning toward the altar. “This is where people kneel to pray.”

Max’s gaze flicked from the altar to her, and for a moment, he couldn’t help the thought that slipped into his mind. The idea of her on her knees, not in prayer but for him, sent a rush of something dark and hungry through him.

She knelt down, her hands clasped in front of her as if demonstrating. “You just… let it all out here. Whatever’s on your heart, you bring it to God.”

He didn’t say anything, just watched her, his throat tightening as the image burned itself into his memory. He wondered, fleetingly, what she’d look like if she weren’t here for forgiveness but for him.

“You going to try?” she asked, looking up at him, her expression earnest and full of trust.

He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. “Not my thing,” he muttered, stepping back.

She stood, brushing off her skirt. “Maybe one day,” she said softly.

Max wasn’t so sure. But he’d come back, if only to see her again.

He didn’t ever think he’d see her in his stomping ground, ever.

The garage smelled like oil and metal, the kind of earthy, gritty scent that clung to Max no matter how much he scrubbed his hands. He was leaned under the hood of an old Chevy—her dad’s car—when he heard the soft jingle of the bell above the shop door.

He straightened, wiping his hands on a rag as she stepped inside. Her presence was like sunlight cutting through the dim, grease-streaked world he lived in.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, leaning against the car and smirking. “Ain’t I usually the one picking you up?”

She stopped a few steps in, her hands clasping the strap of her bag. “I left some college work in my daddy’s car,” she said, her voice steady but careful, like she wasn’t sure how to navigate him in this setting.

Max raised an eyebrow, tossing the rag onto a workbench. “Well, aren’t you lucky I’ve got it right here.”

She hesitated, her eyes flicking to the car before meeting his. “Can I…?”

He stepped aside, gesturing toward the passenger door. “Be my guest.”

She nodded, walking over and leaning into the open door to retrieve her things. Max’s eyes flicked down before he could stop himself, catching a glimpse of her skirt riding up as she bent over, exposing plain white cotton panties that clung to her hips.

It was innocent, unintentional—but it made his pulse spike, his throat tightening as he quickly looked away. His hand clenched into a fist, nails biting into his palm as he forced himself to focus.

Then he saw it—a jagged gash on the side of her thigh, red and raw against her pale skin. His smirk faded, replaced by a frown as something twisted in his gut.

“You gonna tell me what happened there?” he asked, nodding toward her leg.

She froze for a moment before straightening, clutching her notebook tightly against her chest. “Oh,” she said, glancing down at the cut. “It’s nothing. I was playing with my brother in the park, and the ball rolled into some bushes. I went to get it and scratched myself on a branch.”

Max folded his arms, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. “You’ve got an awful lot of bad luck, don’t you? First volleyball, now this.”

Her eyes darted to his, wide and a little panicked. “It’s the truth,” she said quickly, but her voice wavered just enough to betray her.

He stepped closer, his presence looming as he leaned in, his voice a low whisper. “Lying’s a sin, you know.”

Her lips parted, and for a moment, she looked like she might crumble. But then her shoulders straightened, and she lifted her chin, defiance flashing in her eyes. “I believe you should worry about the long list of sins you’ve racked up,” she shot back, her voice trembling but firm.

Max smirked at that, the sharp edge of his grin making her swallow hard. “I thought you were praying for me,” he said, his tone almost teasing but laced with something darker.

She stared at him, her hands tightening on her notebook until her knuckles turned white. “I should go,” she said finally, her voice clipped.

“Don’t let me stop you,” he replied, stepping back just enough to let her pass.

She turned and walked out, her steps quick and purposeful, the door swinging shut behind her with a jingle that felt louder than it should have.

Max watched her go, the tension in his chest twisting into something heavier. He didn’t believe her for a second. But the look in her eyes—the mix of fear, defiance, and something else he couldn’t quite name—made him want to figure out exactly what she was hiding.

And he would. One way or another.

A few days later, Max was leaning under the hood of yet another clunker when his manager strolled over, clipboard in hand.

“Got a favor to ask,” the older man grumbled. “Preacher’s too busy to pick up his car. Needs it dropped off at his place.”

Max straightened, rubbing his hands on a rag, his pulse quickening at the mention of her house. He didn’t even have to think about it.

“I’ll do it,” he said casually, masking the eagerness bubbling under his skin. “Got time.”

His manager raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” Max tossed the rag aside, the corner of his mouth tugging into a grin. “Consider it handled.”

By the time he pulled up to the preacher’s house in the old Chevy, the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting the house in a warm, golden light. He killed the engine, climbing out and leaning against the car for a moment.

That’s when he heard it.

The sound drifted through the open window—a soft, mournful piano melody that sent a shiver down his spine. It was beautiful, haunting even, and he knew immediately that it was her.

He stood there, listening, his chest tightening as each note seemed to carry a weight he couldn’t quite place. Then, as the song trailed off, he forced himself to move, stepping up to the door and knocking firmly.

The music stopped. A few seconds later, the door creaked open, and there she was.

She looked different. Vulnerable.

Her hair was loose, falling in soft waves over her shoulders, and she was wearing a simple pair of pyjamas—pale blue cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt that hung loosely on her frame. She blinked up at him, clearly surprised, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “Brought your dad’s car back.”

“Thanks,” she said, her voice soft and a little hoarse.

His eyes drifted lower, and that’s when he saw it—a dark, fresh bruise blooming along her forearm, just visible under the edge of her sleeve.

His chest tightened, and before he could stop himself, his hand reached out, his rough fingers brushing against the tender skin.

She flinched, but not away. Her lips parted, her eyes flicking up to meet his, wide and uncertain.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice low but laced with tension.

She pulled her arm back, wrapping it around herself like a shield. “I’ve been sick,” she murmured, her words hesitant. “That’s why I’ve been home. Just… clumsy, I guess.”

He didn’t believe her. Not for a second.

“Sick, huh?” he said, his voice edged with scepticism.

She nodded, but the way her gaze darted to the floor gave her away.

For a moment, the air between them felt heavy, charged with something neither of them seemed able to name. Max’s hand hovered at his side, aching to reach out again, but he forced himself to step back.

The sound of heavy footsteps broke the moment, and Max turned just as her father appeared in the doorway.

“Evening,” the preacher said, his voice warm but commanding, his eyes flicking between Max and his daughter.

“Car’s good as new,” Max said, holding out the keys. “She’ll run smooth for you.”

“Appreciate it,” the preacher replied, taking the keys with a nod.

Max hesitated, glancing at her one last time. “You know where to find me if you need anything. Always here for you to rely on the car.”

His words were meant for her father, but his eyes stayed on her, making sure she understood the double meaning.

The preacher didn’t seem to notice. “Thank you, son,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a crisp bill. He handed it to Max with a firm handshake.

Max nodded, pocketing the tip without looking at it. As he stepped back, the preacher gave him a polite smile before closing the door firmly, leaving Max staring at the wood grain.

The following morning sun filtered weakly through the dusty blinds of Max’s trailer, casting long shadows over the cluttered space. He was sprawled on his bed, one leg hanging off the side, barely awake when he heard it—a soft, hesitant knock at the door.

For a moment, he thought he was imagining it, the sound so light it could’ve been the wind rattling the screen. But then it came again, firmer this time.

Grumbling under his breath, Max swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing a hand over his face. He shuffled to the door in nothing but his boxers, too groggy to care about decency.

When he pulled the door open, he froze.

There she was, standing on the cracked wooden steps of his trailer.

She looked like she’d stepped out of another world—her crisp white blouse tucked into a pale blue skirt that swayed lightly in the breeze, her hair perfectly combed and pinned back. But her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks blotchy, and there was a tremble in her lip that told him she’d been crying.

Her gaze flicked downward, catching sight of his bare chest and boxer-clad frame. Her face flushed pink, and she quickly looked away, clutching the strap of her bag so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Max blinked, his grogginess evaporating in an instant. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep.

She didn’t answer right away, just stared down at the ground like she couldn’t meet his eyes. He stepped back, holding the door open wider. “You wanna come in?”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, stepping over the threshold.

As she entered, the contrast between her polished appearance and the rough, lived-in state of his trailer couldn’t have been starker. The cramped space was cluttered with tools, half-empty coffee mugs, and a laundry basket overflowing with clothes. She looked out of place, like a dove dropped into the middle of a storm.

Max closed the door behind her, leaning against it as he crossed his arms. “You okay?” he asked, his tone softer now.

She stood in the middle of the room, her arms wrapped around herself. “I… I didn’t want to stay at home,” she said quietly.

The way her voice cracked on the last word made his chest tighten.

“What happened?” he asked, stepping closer but keeping his distance, giving her space to speak.

She shook her head, her fingers gripping her bag tighter. “I… I snuck out,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I couldn’t stay there anymore.”

Max’s jaw tightened. He wanted to ask why, but he already knew. He’d known for weeks.

Finally, she looked up at him, tears brimming in her wide, frightened eyes. “It’s my daddy,” she whispered. “He… he hits me.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and raw.

Max’s fists clenched at his sides, his whole body going rigid. “How long’s this been going on?” he asked, his voice low and tight.

She looked away, her gaze darting to the corner of the room as if she could hide from the question. “As long as I can remember,” she said finally, her voice barely audible.

Max swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to punch something, to drag her father out into the street and make him pay. But more than anything, he wanted to make her feel safe.

“You should’ve told someone,” he said, his voice softer now, though the anger still simmered just beneath the surface.

Her eyes snapped back to his, a flash of fear and desperation in them. “I couldn’t,” she said quickly. “I can’t. If people knew, it’d ruin everything. My daddy’s the preacher. People look up to him. They’d never believe me.”

Max stepped closer, his rough hands itching to reach out and touch her, to ground her somehow. But he didn’t. Not yet.

“You don’t have to go back there,” he said firmly. “You can stay here. No one’s gonna hurt you while I’m around.”

Her gaze softened, her lips trembling as she whispered, “Why do you care so much?”

Max let out a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You think I can just stand by and let this happen? After everything I’ve seen…” He paused, meeting her gaze head-on. “You’re not like the rest of us. You don’t belong in a place like that.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the space between them felt charged, heavy with unspoken words. She looked like she might say something, but then a tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” she said suddenly, backing toward the door. “I didn’t mean to bother you—”

“You’re not bothering me,” Max said firmly, cutting her off.

She hesitated, her hand hovering near the door handle.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face as if trying to decide whether she could trust him. Finally, she nodded, just barely, and let her hand fall away from the door.

Max rubbed the back of his neck again, his eyes never leaving her face as she stood there, caught between leaving and staying. He could see the battle in her—wanting to run but needing something, someone, to anchor her.

“You can stay here tonight,” he said, his voice steady but gentle, like he was trying not to spook her.

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she didn’t respond. She looked around the cramped trailer, at the cluttered counters and the sagging couch, her delicate hands gripping the strap of her bag like it was a lifeline.

“I don’t know…” she started, her voice faltering.

“No one’ll bother you here,” Max said, stepping closer. “You’ll be safe. And if you want to leave in the morning, you can. No strings.”

She bit her lip, the hesitation etched in every line of her face.

“But…” she whispered, looking up at him, “I need to go to Sunday service.”

Max blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in her tone.

“While I’m mad at my daddy,” she continued, her voice growing steadier, “I still have to go. I can’t not be there. It’s… it’s important to me.”

Her words hung in the air, a quiet plea wrapped in conviction.

Max nodded without hesitation. “I’ll take you,” he said simply. “First thing in the morning.”

She blinked up at him, a flicker of relief crossing her features. “You promise?”

“Yeah,” he said, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Scout’s honor.”

That drew a small, hesitant smile from her, though it quickly faded as her gaze dropped to the floor again.

“I’ll stay,” she said softly, almost like she didn’t believe the words herself.

Max exhaled, the tension in his chest easing just slightly. “Good. Make yourself at home,” he said, gesturing vaguely around the trailer. “It’s not much, but it’s better than where you came from.”

She nodded, her movements stiff and unsure, like she didn’t quite know how to exist in this space.

“I gotta get to work,” Max added, glancing at the clock on the wall. “But you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. Bed is yours, and there’s food in the fridge—though, fair warning, it’s mostly leftovers and beer.”

That earned him a faint, almost amused look, and he felt a strange sense of satisfaction at the sight.

“I’ll be fine,” she said quietly.

Max hesitated for a moment, then reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. His touch was light, careful, but firm enough to ground her.

“You’re safe here,” he said, his voice low but certain.

She nodded again, her gaze flicking up to meet his, and for a moment, the silence between them felt warm, comforting.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said, stepping toward his makeshift bedroom grabbing some clothes and slipping them on. “If you need anything—anything at all—you call me, alright? Danny down the road has my number, he’s got the graffiti all over his trailer.”

“Alright,” she replied, her voice steadier now.

With one last glance over his shoulder, Max stepped out into the morning light, the door clicking shut behind him. As he walked toward his beat-up car, a strange mix of emotions swirled in his chest—anger, protectiveness, and something else he couldn’t quite name.

She’d taken a risk coming to him, and he wasn’t about to let her down. Not now. Not ever.

Max worked through the afternoon with his head barely in the game. The thought of her in his trailer—his space—kept creeping into his mind. He couldn’t shake the image of her standing there, looking so out of place, like she belonged somewhere far away from this rundown world he inhabited. The image of her soft eyes and trembling lip haunted him as he fixed engines and cleaned up at the shop.

By the time he came back to the trailer, the evening sun had already dipped behind the horizon, casting a pale, dusky glow over everything. He turned the key in the door, the familiar creak of the hinges echoing in the quiet.

And then he froze.

The trailer didn’t look the same.

It was spotless.

The clutter on the counters, the dirty dishes, the laundry piled up in the corner—all of it was gone. The floor was swept, the counters wiped down, and there was even a faint smell of something cooking, something hearty and savory. Max took a step inside, his eyes scanning the room as if he was seeing it for the first time.

And there she was, standing in the kitchen.

She had slipped into one of his old band t-shirts—black and faded with the edges curling up—and paired it with the skirt she’d worn earlier. Her hair was still down, a little messy from the day, but there was something about the way she moved around his space that made her seem... at ease. She was focused on the stove, stirring something in a pot, humming quietly to herself as if she belonged.

Max felt a sudden knot in his stomach, a wave of desire mixed with something deeper—something protective. He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping down to her legs, exposed beneath the hem of the shirt, and then back up to her face. She didn’t notice him at first, too absorbed in what she was doing, and he took a few moments to just watch her.

She looked so out of place in his world—his messy, cluttered world—but at the same time, she fit perfectly.

She caught sight of him, and a warm, almost shy smile spread across her face. "I wasn’t sure what you liked, but I found some stuff in the cupboard. It’s not much, but I thought… I could make you something."

Max’s chest tightened at the sincerity in her voice. He had no idea she could cook.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said, his voice rough with something unspoken. He stepped further into the trailer, noticing that she’d even made the bed. The blankets were neatly arranged, the pillow fluffed, the whole room looking like it belonged in some kind of hotel. It felt... new.

She shrugged, a little embarrassed. "It's the least I could do. You’ve been so kind to me... I wanted to help, in some way."

Max ran a hand over his jaw, fighting the urge to reach out and pull her close. Her presence was intoxicating, her gentle kindness disarming. The way she stood there, so effortless in his space, made something inside him shift. His heart beat faster as he moved toward the kitchen, unable to resist the pull of her.

She turned back to the stove, unaware of the war going on inside him. He couldn’t help but glance at the way her shirt rode up on her thighs, the curve of her hips, and the soft skin of her exposed legs. His mind flashed to earlier—when she’d stepped into his trailer with those wide eyes, trembling and vulnerable. And now, she was here, looking like she belonged to him in ways she probably didn’t even realise.

His hands clenched at his sides. He needed to calm down.

“You didn’t have to clean everything up,” he said, trying to focus on something other than how badly he wanted to kiss her, touch her, feel her beneath his hands.

“I don’t mind,” she replied, her voice soft. “It felt wrong to just sit around, so I figured I could do something. It’s a mess here, but I… I wanted it to feel like home for a bit.”

Home.

The word hit him harder than he expected. Max didn’t know what it meant to feel at home. His life had always been a constant hustle, scraping by, living in his car, barely getting by. But here, with her, in the middle of this trailer—he felt like maybe he could understand it, just a little bit.

She stirred the pot again, and Max took a deep breath. His body was tight with the need to do something—to touch her, hold her—but he fought it down.

He stepped closer, casually leaning against the counter. “You sure you’re okay with all this?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light, casual.

She glanced at him, her eyes soft but unreadable. “I’m okay,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. She seemed to hesitate for a moment before continuing, her gaze steady. “I just… I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m scared, Max.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, his fingers brushing the back of her hand. Her skin was soft, delicate, and his pulse skipped in response. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t look at him either.

Max leaned in just slightly, his breath catching in his throat as he whispered, “I’ll keep you safe, I swear.”

There was a moment of silence. And then, in the quietest voice, almost as if she were speaking to herself, she whispered, “I believe you.”

And in that moment, something inside Max shifted completely. He didn’t just want her. He needed to protect her. To keep her from harm.

The tension in the air was thick, and he knew if he didn’t walk away now, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. His hand lingered on hers for just a second longer before he pulled away, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Let’s eat,” he said, trying to mask the urgency in his voice, trying to ground himself again.

Max didn’t have a proper dining table—hell, he barely had enough room for his sofa—but tonight, that didn’t matter.

He took a seat on the old sofa, and she settled beside him, carefully placing the plates of food between them. The smell of whatever she’d made filled the air—something simple but satisfying, with just a hint of warmth that made it feel like a real meal. It was the first time in a while that Max had felt something other than hunger when he sat down to eat.

As she set her fork down and looked at her hands, she murmured something under her breath, her voice soft and steady. Max was halfway through a bite when he realised she was praying.

He watched her quietly, noting the calmness in her demeanor, the way her hands were folded neatly in front of her. Her lips moved with the words, a quiet reverence that made the air in the room feel still, almost sacred.

When she finished, she looked at him, a small, shy smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Sorry,” she said, her cheeks flushed. “It’s just… habit.”

Max shook his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. “No need to apologise,” he said, his voice softer than usual. He found it cute—no, charming—how she prayed before every meal, how that simple act of faith seemed to give her some semblance of peace. He had no idea what that kind of peace felt like.

They ate quietly, the sound of forks scraping against plates the only noise between them. There was something almost intimate about this simple moment—the way she sat beside him, the way she kept her space but still seemed to fill the room.

It wasn’t long before Max’s mind started to wander again, and his gaze drifted down to her hand as she picked up her glass of water. He noticed the ring on her finger, the simple silver band catching the light.

“What’s that?” he asked, his voice casual, though his stomach clenched slightly.

She looked down at it, almost absentmindedly, before meeting his gaze. “It’s a purity ring,” she said, her voice quiet, almost reverent.

Max froze, his fork half-raised to his mouth. A purity ring. The thought hit him like a punch to the gut, a wave of something dark and primal swirling beneath the surface. She wore it like a promise, a promise to stay pure, to wait for marriage, to avoid the kinds of things he’d spent most of his life seeking out—things he wasn’t sure he could even offer her if she wanted them.

His thoughts scrambled, his chest tightening. He forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat and shifted on the couch, trying to ignore the tightening in his jeans. He couldn’t help himself. The idea of her—innocent, pure, wearing a ring like that—drove him mad. It made him think things he shouldn’t, things that went against the very core of who she was.

He cleared his throat, trying to distract himself from the thoughts swirling in his head. “I, uh… I think you should take the bed,” he said abruptly. “I’ll crash here on the couch.”

She gave him a soft look, her expression kind, though there was something in her eyes that told him she wasn’t used to accepting charity—or favours of any kind.

“Thank you,” she said, glancing at the bed and then back at him.

She stood up, taking both their plates to the sink and left him in the makeshift living room.

Max settled back onto the small couch, but sleep didn’t come easy. He was restless, his mind too filled with thoughts of her, her innocence, her sweetness, and that damn purity ring. Even though there was a whole doorframe separating the two of them, the room felt too small. His chest too tight. His body too aware of everything that was happening in that tiny space between them.

Eventually, he shifted again, sighing in frustration as he tossed the blanket off of himself. The couch wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was too small for someone his size. He needed to stretch out.

A few minutes later, he heard the soft creak of the floorboards. He turned his head slightly, squinting through the dim light. She was standing in the doorway, her silhouette outlined by the faint glow of his beside table.

“Max?” Her voice was soft, tentative.

He sat up, blinking. “Yeah?”

“I—uh, I can’t sleep,” she admitted, stepping further into the room. “And you look... uncomfortable on the couch.” She hesitated, then bit her lip. “Would you, um, want to sleep in the bed with me? Just... just for tonight?”

Max felt his breath catch in his throat. He should’ve said no. He knew he should’ve. But she was standing there in his shirt, her hair falling messily around her shoulders, and her eyes—those soft, uncertain eyes—were pleading with him in a way that made him feel like he was the one who needed her comfort.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice tight.

She nodded, her hands trembling just slightly as she pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Please. I just—” She paused, biting her lip, as if searching for the right words. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Max’s heart twisted in his chest. He could’ve said something else—told her it was fine, that she should rest, or something like that. But he was done with pretending he didn’t want to be close to her, to feel her next to him.

“Alright,” he muttered, standing up. “But, uh... let me put on a shirt.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and he could’ve sworn he saw the smallest flicker of a smile on her lips. “Okay,” she whispered, turning her back to give him some space.

He grabbed a random shirt from the pile of clean laundry on the floor, pulling it on over his bare chest, and then slipped under the covers beside her. She had already crawled under the blankets, pulling them tightly around her.

Max settled in beside her, keeping a careful distance at first. But the bed was small, and it didn’t take long for her to inch closer. He could feel her warmth at his side, the soft rise and fall of her chest with each breath, the delicate scent of her hair mixing with the familiar scent of his worn sheets.

The morning light filtered through the thin curtains of the trailer, casting a soft glow across the room. Max slowly woke up, his eyes still heavy with sleep. He shifted slightly, feeling the warmth of her body pressed against his side. Her head rested on his chest, her soft breathing filling the quiet room.

For a moment, Max just stayed still, letting the comfort of her closeness wash over him. His arm had instinctively wrapped around her while they slept, and he could feel the warmth of her skin beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

But as his body began to wake up fully, so did a familiar discomfort: the pressure of his morning problem, straining against the fabric of his boxers. His breath caught, and he tried to shift subtly, hoping she wouldn’t wake up and notice the situation. She didn’t. She just remained nestled against him, her breath slow and steady.

Max let out a slow breath, trying to ignore the growing tension in his body. He kept his arm around her for a moment longer, relishing the softness of her against him, before reluctantly moving it.

Her movements eventually stirred him from his thoughts, though. He felt her shift and heard her small, quiet sigh as she began to stir. She slowly pushed herself up and away from him, the weight of her head leaving his chest.

Max watched as she stood up, stretching lightly before walking toward the small kitchen area. The simple act of her moving around his trailer felt domestic, a little surreal. He never imagined a girl like her would be here, in his space, making herself at home.

She turned on the old coffee maker and started washing the dishes from the night before, humming softly to herself. Her bare feet moved across the worn linoleum floor as she worked, picking up the plates, scrubbing them clean with a kind of focused determination. Max watched her, a little mesmerised by the way she went about everything with ease. She was so domestic, so... pure.

After a while, she glanced over her shoulder, catching his eye. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said quietly. “I usually make something nice on a Sunday.”

Max shook his head, trying to get his bearings. “I don’t mind at all.” His voice was still rough with sleep. “Thank you.”

She smiled softly and got to work, preparing eggs, toast, and whatever else she could find in his meager supplies. Max sat up, rubbing his eyes. He watched her as she moved, the way her shirt clung to her in all the right places, how she seemed so comfortable here despite how out of place she looked in his world.

Eventually, she finished up with the dishes and turned to him. “I need to get ready for church.” Her eyes softened a little, as though she could sense the hesitation in his. “Can y—“

“I’ll take you. I just don’t have a car right now. It’s in the garage.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly, and for a moment, Max thought she might protest, but instead, she just nodded. “Okay.”

He took a quick shower and threw on some old jeans and a t-shirt. He didn’t exactly have a wardrobe that screamed “church-going,” but it was the best he could do. He wasn’t there to make a statement anyway—just to get her there and make sure she was safe.

When he stepped out of the small bathroom, he found her already dressed in her Sunday best—yesterday’s shirt and skirt with a cardigan she must have pulled out her bag. Her hair was perfectly styled, like she’d just walked out of a church bulletin. She looked so out of place in his trailer, so polished and pristine compared to the worn, dirty space they were in.

Max grabbed his helmet and walked over to her, holding it out. “Here,” he said, the words laced with a slight smirk. “You’re gonna need this.”

She looked at him curiously but didn’t argue. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. You’re not walking to church, and you’re definitely not riding behind me without it.” He grinned, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

With a small, reluctant smile, she took the helmet from him, adjusting it over her head, the loose strands of her hair sticking out slightly. Max handed her the extra jacket he had and then motioned to the door. “Let’s get going. I’ll get you there early so no one sees you.”

She nodded, slipping on the jacket and walking toward the door with him. Max grabbed the keys to his bike and headed outside, securing the helmet on her head.

The engine of his old bike roared to life, the sound rattling the air around them. Max felt the familiar rush of adrenaline, the wind in his face as they drove, but his focus wasn’t on the speed or the feel of the bike. It was on her, sitting behind him, her body pressed close to his, the weight of her on his back both grounding and electrifying him.

They took the back roads, keeping a low profile, making sure no one would notice them together. Max didn’t want to bring any attention to her. He didn’t want anyone to see her with him, not yet. She was too pure, too innocent to be caught up in his world.

They arrived just before everyone else, the small church looming in front of them as the sun began to rise. Max parked the bike in the back and cut the engine, then turned to look at her.

“Thanks for coming with me,” she said softly, slipping off the bike.

Max nodded, watching her walk toward the steps of the church, her figure straight and composed. As she walked away from him, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of something—something he couldn’t quite name. It was a mix of jealousy, admiration, and something darker that he didn’t want to acknowledge.

He didn’t know why he stayed in the parking lot. Maybe it was the quiet that clung to the air after the service ended, or maybe it was the feeling of something unfinished between him and her. He waited, watching as the congregation filed out of the church, families chatting, some with smiles on their faces, others with the weight of the week still on their shoulders.

He saw her mother, walking alongside her brother, exchanging a few words with the other churchgoers. But no sign of her. His gaze swept over the parking lot once more, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Maybe she had stayed behind for a little longer.

Minutes passed, and Max’s unease grew. She hadn’t come out.

Frowning, he swung his leg off the bike and walked toward the church’s front doors. He didn’t know why he felt compelled to check on her, but something in him insisted. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, as if sensing danger.

Max approached the side of the church, his boots scraping the gravel beneath him. A faint voice reached his ears—just a whisper at first, but then it grew louder, more frantic. It sounded like shouting, distorted by the walls of the building, but it was unmistakably hers.

His heart skipped a beat.

He moved quickly toward the sound, pushing open a side door. The hallway inside was dimly lit, the walls cold and echoing with every step. He followed the noise, barely hearing his own footsteps as he crept closer to the source.

And then he saw them.

She was on the floor, her hands trembling in front of her, her back hunched as though she was trying to make herself as small as possible. Her father was standing over her, his voice a low growl of fury, loud enough to rattle the air between them.

“You’re a dirty slut!” he spat. “You’re going to hell for what you’ve done!”

Max’s blood ran cold, and for a moment, he didn’t think.

With a quick motion, he stepped forward, his voice calm but cold. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The preacher spun around, his face twisted with rage, recognizing Max.

“Stay out of this, boy,” the preacher growled, his hand still raised in the air.

But before the preacher could make another move, she stood up, her breath ragged, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and something else—hope? Maybe it was desperation.

Without a second thought, she ran toward Max. She didn’t hesitate, her arms reaching out to him as if he were her only anchor in the storm.

“Max,” she whispered, almost too softly to hear, but Max felt the weight of it all the same.

Max put his hands on her shoulders, turning her so that she was standing slightly behind him. His eyes never left the preacher, his voice steady.

“You know, preacher,” Max began, his voice low and measured, “God loves justice and establishes equity.” He tilted his head slightly, as if recalling something. “Psalm 99:4, right? I’m sure that’s a scripture I heard your daughter read once in Bible study. Can’t be exerting your authority in such ways, can you?”

The preacher’s face went red with anger, his hands balling into fists. “Get out of here, boy. This is none of your business.”

Max didn’t flinch. “You’re right,” he said calmly. “It’s none of my business. But I’ll make sure it’s yours.”

He motioned to her. “Go wait by the bike.” His voice softened just for her, the harshness fading away. “Go on, I’ll be right there.”

She hesitated for just a moment, looking at him like she wanted to say something, but instead, she turned and walked quickly toward the door. Max watched her go, his heart pounding in his chest.

The preacher made a move to stop her, but Max stepped forward, his patience snapping.

“Don’t you ever touch her again,” Max growled.

The preacher lunged at him, but Max was faster, his fist connecting with the preacher’s jaw before he had a chance to land a blow. The sound of the punch echoed in the small hallway, and the preacher staggered backward, his hands gripping the edge of the wall for support.

Max stepped forward, his voice cold. “I don’t care who you think you are. You put your hands on her again, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The preacher was on his knees now, his face a mixture of shock and fury. Max didn’t wait to hear more. He turned on his heel, walking out the door to find her standing by his bike, waiting as if she hadn’t just been on the receiving end of a storm.

He nodded to her, not saying anything more, his mind racing with the anger he’d just unleashed. But all he wanted now was to get her away from here, away from him.

“Let’s go,” he said softly, handing her the helmet.

She didn’t say anything as she put it on, but the silent understanding between them spoke volumes. Max revved the engine, feeling the rush of power beneath him as he led her away from the church, away from the hell that had just erupted there.

The ride back to the trailer was eerily quiet. Max could feel the tension in the air between them, thick and heavy, the weight of everything that had just happened hanging between them. She sat behind him, her grip tight on his waist, but there was no laughter, no playful banter like there had been before. It felt like the world had shifted somehow, and the silence stretched endlessly as they rode.

Max didn’t glance back at her. He kept his eyes straight ahead, focusing on the road, but all he could think about was what he’d just done. He knew he’d put himself in danger, confronting her father like that. He didn’t care. But for the first time, he couldn’t ignore the burning question: What did he really think he was doing?

The only sound on the road was the roar of the engine beneath them, a constant reminder of the distance they had yet to travel. Every twist and turn of the road seemed to reflect the turmoil inside of him, but he had no words for it, no way to express the chaos in his head.

When they finally pulled into the trailer park, the sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows across the worn pavement. Max parked the bike and cut the engine, the sudden silence of the world around them making the tension between them all the more palpable.

They didn’t speak as they walked inside, the door creaking as it opened into the small, dimly lit space. Max stepped aside to let her enter first, but the moment the door closed behind them, she removed the helmet and her composure seemed to crumble.

She stood there for a long moment, just breathing, as if she was trying to collect herself, but it was clear she wasn’t okay. Max watched her, his heart tightening when he saw the tears beginning to well in her eyes. She couldn’t hold it back anymore.

Before he could say anything, she collapsed into him. Her body shook as she buried her face against his chest, her sobs muffled against his shirt. Max’s arms instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her in close, his own breath shaky from the unexpected surge of emotion he felt at seeing her so broken.

“It’s okay,” he whispered softly, his voice a soothing murmur. “I’ve got you, shhh.”

She didn’t respond, just continued to cry, the sound raw and heartbreaking. Max gently ran his hand down her back, trying to comfort her in the only way he knew how. He wiped the tears off her face with his thumb, brushing her hair back from her forehead. His chest tightened with every sob that wracked her body, every quiet sob that he couldn’t take away.

“Don’t cry,” he said quietly, though his words felt powerless against the pain she was clearly feeling. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear it, sweetheart.”

She pulled away slightly, her tear-streaked face making his chest ache even more. Her eyes were wide and vulnerable, a rawness that shook him to his core. She didn’t say anything; she didn’t need to. He could see everything in her expression, the hurt and confusion and fear.

Without a word, Max guided her to the small bed in the corner of the trailer, not sure what else to do. He wanted to fix everything, to make her feel safe, but he knew that wasn’t something he could do with words alone.

They sat on the edge of the bed, and she let him help her lie down. He crawled in next to her, his arm draping over her shoulders as she curled up against him. The space felt small, but it was warm. She was warm.

Max didn’t say anything as he laid beside her, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took. He just held her. The silence between them was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was quiet, like the calm after the storm, both of them lost in the stillness of the moment.

Her breathing eventually slowed, her sobs quieter now, though her body still trembled slightly from the emotions that had flooded her. Max stayed close, not letting go. His fingers gently traced the outline of her arm as he held her close, not knowing exactly what to say to make it better, but knowing that being there, holding her, was enough—for now.

“I’m here,” he whispered again, his voice soft and unwavering, as he placed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not anymore.”

Then a weird thought came to Max as he watched hee sleep in his arms.

She’d prayed for his peace.

And while he wasn’t a believer.

He sure as hell felt at peace.

part two out now!

793 notes · View notes

sunvmars · 1 year ago

Text

bitter sweet | s.r.

pairing: steve rogers x fem/afab reader

next ↠

word count: 2.8k

warnings: obv swearing, pregnancy/pregnant reader, some angst that's mainly reader trying to cover up hidden emotions

summary: you've grown to resent steve after a breakup and give him the cold shoulder for weeks. you soon discover you're pregnant and show back up on his doorstep to tell him the news.

a/n: definitely turning this into a series if it gains enough traction!

It was a warm summer evening like any other when Steve had asked you to come straight home after work, insisting he had something important to talk about. You had entered your shared apartment with expectations of a nice dinner or a movie night. Considering Steve was always one for suspension, surprise plans and at-home date nights weren't unusual.

You set your purse down on the table by the front door before sinking into your favorite recliner. The setting sun cast a glow amongst the living room that you greatly appreciated, although it was a glow that was far too beautiful to be wasted on that night.

"Steve! I'm home!"

Only a few seconds after you'd called out had he come, practically, running. He came to sit on the couch, only a few feet away, his expression conflicted.

"I missed you today," you said.

You beamed at your fiancé, simply happy to see him after another shitty work day. While you were an Avenger, you stuck to mainly office work when you had no missions.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, "Y/n, honey, I think we need to talk."

Your heart sank, and a lump formed in your throat. You knew Steve like the back of your hand, and every time he has said the words "we need to talk," it's never been good.

"Is Buck sneaking over to eat all of our sweets again? I thought you talked to him about that," you joked in an attempt to lighten the tension.

"Funnily enough, no, he hasn't done that in a few days."

"Well, don't jinx it."

He chuckled briefly. His hands ran over his face as he sighed, and his broad shoulders relaxed.

"I've been thinking- a lot," he began, avoiding your gaze. "Baby, you know I love you, right?"

You hummed, giving him a nod that allowed him to continue.

"I love you, but..."

As soon as you had heard the "but," you tuned out. Whether it was by choice, or whether your mind and heart already knew what he was going to say and were just saving you the extra heartbreak, you weren't sure. You did, however, catch the last part of it. And luckily, the last part was all you needed to hear from him.

"I can't allow this to continue. I'm no good for you, y/n. I can't be the man you need or deserve right now. It's not fair to keep you waiting while I'm still trying to figure out what I want."

Your brows furrowed as your body started becoming tense. "What...?" you muttered.

It was less of a question and more of you thinking aloud, vocalizing your confusion. Unless you were a completely oblivious idiot, things between the two of you were fine yesterday, and every day before that for the last two years. He sighed, finally meeting your gaze. His eyes were filled with regret that you somehow missed.

"I... I can't take the risk anymore. I need to focus on my responsibilities and protecting the world. It's just... I can't let my personal life get in the way of my promise to the world."

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away before they could fall. You had the same job, so how could the man who had proposed only a few months ago just now, after two years, decide he couldn't make this work because of his job? Either way, that man didn't deserve your tears, so you wouldn't waste them on him. You stood quickly, not bothering to look back at him as you made your way towards the door.

"Y/n? Where are you going? Please say something, baby-"

"Don't! You don't get to call me that anymore," you snapped, finally allowing yourself to show some sort of emotion. "Just...stop. There's nothing else to say."

His eyes widened a little at your sudden outburst. You picked up your purse and keys hastily. Your fingers fidgeted with the keys for a moment, then you started sliding your house key off your keychain. It was then that you decided to speak again before he got the chance to, not caring to hear another word from him.

"I'll have someone come get my stuff tomorrow; do whatever you want with the apartment, as long as you don't have to contact me to do it."

"Y/n," he spoke with softened, glossy eyes, "please, just stay until you find somewhere else to go. This is your home too, I-"

"There's too much of you, well, what used to be us, here," you stated plainly as you placed your key on the table. "Where I go isn't your problem anymore anyway."

A sigh escaped your lips as you slung your purse over your shoulder. You turned to face him one last time as you stood in the doorway.

"Oh, and one more thing," you say, "You are a fucking coward, Steven Grant Rogers."

The door slammed behind you. And what you'd left behind was a deeply regretful, and utterly stupid, Steve sitting alone on the couch in the apartment you once shared.

That was almost two months ago, and your heart had not allowed you to heal at all. As if seeing Steve in passing at work wasn't painful enough, now you had an important mission coming up tomorrow, and being chosen to go with him was inevitable. Or at least you thought it was inevitable. It had all started earlier in the morning with a rotten egg- an actual rotten egg, that is.

You were baking cookies for Bucky, fully aware of how much he'd miss your baked goods for the next week or two you would be gone. Over the time that you and Steve had dated and been engaged, you'd gotten pretty close with the brunette. He was equally supportive of both of you during the breakup. Though he did lay into Steve for leaving you. Bucky knew there was more to it than his job; both of you had the same job for Christ's sake, but he didn't push his friend for answers—at least not yet.

With one gentle motion, you cracked the egg on the side of your metal bowl. However, this egg had a smell to it. You brought it closer to your face to observe and smell it. What a horrible mistake, though, because as soon as you inhaled the sickening, sulfur-like scent, it made your stomach turn. But instead of going back to normal, you gagged. The scent was lingering longer than any other scent you'd ever smelled, almost as if you were permanently damned to having the smell stuck in your nostrils.

Then the hot stomach acid started coming up, and it was coming fast, signaling you needed a trashcan now. You bolted towards the nearest bathroom, preferring to take a chance on making a mess in a hallway rather than the kitchen. You passed Steve and Bucky on your way there, both men stopping dead in their tracks to watch as you ran into the bathroom only a few feet behind them.

"Huh," Steve mumbled, his heart throbbing at the sight of you.

"Sometimes I get sick when I look at you too, punk."

Bucky chuckled at his own joke, earning a glare from Steve.

"Go check on her for me, please."

"Always. But I won't keep giving you updates on her, y'know? It's not fair to her, Steve," Bucky sighed.

Steve only nodded in understanding, a smile only staying on his lips for a few seconds. He patted Bucky's back before turning on his heels and continuing on his path.

Your stomach clenched harder, and the vomit raced up your throat faster than ever. You barely got to the toilet before retching and gagging again, feeling instant relief when the bile finally came up. But then came a sudden second wave of nausea that seemed to be worse than the first. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the torture finally ended.

You stood up slowly and made your way to the sink. After tearing off a piece of paper towel, you dampened it under warm water. You wiped your mouth off with the damp napkin and threw it away before opening the door to leave.

"You okay?"

You jumped back slightly, looking over to meet piercing blue eyes. There was Bucky leaning up against the wall next to the bathroom door with his arms crossed.

"Jesus, Buck. You stalking me?"

"Stalking you? Definitely not. If I wanted to stalk someone, I'd find someone more interesting who doesn't eat half pints of vanilla bean ice cream and watch Pride and Prejudice or The Notebook every night," he jokes.

"Hey! It's how I cope and get over things; it's soothing."

"Yet you still pine over him, so how's that working out for ya?"

"...not great. Maybe I do need a new method, huh?"

The two of you exchange a laugh, and you start making your way back to the kitchen with Bucky right on your heels.

"So, are you okay?" he questions again.

"Just felt a little sick, that's all. And, hey, here's a tip: don't ever smell a rotten egg, it's not a pleasant experience," you say with a soft sigh.

He chuckles at your joke and replies, "Thank you for that. I'll remember that."

When you make it to the kitchen, he plants himself on a bar stool only a few feet away from you. You decide to continue making your cookies, holding your breath as you clean up the old egg.

"Wow, I can smell that from here. You weren't lying. That is bad."

His nose turns up and his face scrunches, earning a giggle from you. You two chat as you make the dough, and soon enough, you're finished baking. As you put the last cookies on the tray, Bucky stands up to get a closer look.

"God. Per usual, those smell amazing," he groans, reaching for one of the hot sweets.

You swat his hand away with a laugh. "Not until they're cooled down!"

He fakes a frown that makes you laugh again. You shake your head, making a 'tsk' noise at him.

"You're a menace, Buck," you joke.

He only shrugs his shoulders with a lopsided grin, then he pulls you into a hug. "Somebody has to get on your nerves. It keeps you distracted and on your feet," he teases.

"Thank you for being here for me."

Your body relaxes in his arms. You wrap your arms around his upper waist to return the sentiment. You take a deep breath and then pull away from the hug.

"How are you feeling, by the way?"

"It's almost like it never happened," you smirk.

"That's a lie, and you know it."

You're about to speak again, but close your mouth as soon as it opens. The nausea pools in your stomach again, forcing a huff out of you.

"I think I'm gonna be sick again."

"You're still feeling that bad over it?"

"No, I genuinely think I'm gonna throw up again, Buck," you say hurriedly, pushing by him to get back to the bathroom. "Put those cookies in a bag, Barnes! They're all yours!"

He chuckles and holds his thumb up in the air, even though you can't see it. "And you get yourself to the doctor, l/n."

And going to the doctor is exactly what you chose to do.

Well, almost.

You instead chose to go to the lab with Tony and Bruce, and you only decided to go after about the fourth wave of nausea that came around five hours after the first. Which is how you ended up in the lab with grippy socks on and a cold Sprite in hand as you await blood and urine test results.

"So, how are you holding up, kid?" Tony asks, his eyes glued to his computer.

"Been better, had better days."

He looks away from his computer for a moment, making eye contact with you. "I could just kill him for hurting you, and I hope you know that," he states, his voice carrying nothing but genuine honesty.

"Aw, Tony, you're just like the dad I never dreamed of having—violently overprotective and overdramatic."

Bruce chuckles, but Tony just rolls his eyes, focusing back on his computer.

"That's what I get for trying to be nice to you," Tony scoffs, trying his best to hide the smile that wants to creep onto his face.

"I'm going to take a walk, Tony. I'll be back in a few minutes," Bruce announces as he rises from his chair. "If the computer beeps, it's her results coming back."

"Got it," Tony responds plainly, entirely too distracted by something on his screen.

The computer beeps only a few minutes after Bruce walks out, indicating an update to your information. Tony swivels his chair over to the big screen and pulls up your test results. He studies them carefully, not saying a word.

"So...what's wrong with me?"

He's still silent when he turns to face you. At first, he looks shocked, but then his brows furrow and his eyes narrow ever so slightly. If you hadn't known him for as long as you have, you'd think he was judging you based on his facial expression, but you knew he wasn't. He looked conflicted and confused, almost hesitant.

"What is it, Tone? You're freaking me out here. Is it the flu? A stomach bug? Food poisoning?"

"How about a baby?"

Your jaw drops, literally. The words pool in your mind, and your brain starts feeling like it's going to explode from all the different emotions and thoughts. You start to feel sick to your stomach again but manage to push the feeling down.

"I..." you start, unable to find the words to finish.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I won't tell anyone, okay? Not even Bruce. We need to set you up with a doctor. I have an amazing one I can call to come here and-"

"I appreciate that, Tony, but I need time to think first. We'll, uhm, talk tomorrow if that's okay."

"Of course," he empathizes, a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. "Come here, kid."

You shuffle your way into his open arms, not having the energy to return the hug. He pulls away after a few seconds and allows you to step back.

"I think I'm gonna go...or something... I don't know," you mumble, making your way towards the door.

"Hey, y/n?"

"Yeah?"

"If this is something you want, don't let him ruin it for you."

As soon as you leave the lab, it's like you're on autopilot.

Your feet took you to the downstairs office, then outside, and then to your car. When you get into your car, you tell yourself you're going to the store to grab some more ice cream. But your heart has other ideas; ideas such as Steve.

So, you drive yourself all the way to Steve's apartment, just wanting to be comforted by the familiarity for a moment. Then, somehow, you end up outside the front door of what used to be your shared space.

Your soft knock pulls Steve from the closest to sleep he's been in weeks. He curses under his breath, loathing whoever is at the door for ruining his chance at a few minutes to hours of peace.

However, that hate replaces itself with regret and adoration as soon as he opens the door to reveal your slouched-over form. Steve recognizes that look on your face, along with your body language, and it's evident that something is wrong.

As if you showing up at his door isn't surprising enough, you look up at him before letting yourself fall into his arms. He stands in shock as you lay your head on his warm and familiarly sculpted chest. Then sobs wrack through you, shaking your whole body, and that's all it takes for him to give into instinct and wrap his arms around you. The heat of his body and the feeling of his embrace provide a warming comfort as you cry into his shirt, only coaxing you further to let it all go.

One of his hands rubs your back gently while he holds you. "Y/n? What's wrong, honey? Talk to me," he coos.

You feel a tightness in your chest, a feeling that you can't put into words right now even if you tried your hardest to. In fact, all you can do is cry more as you hold tightly onto the sides of his shirt. You practically crumble into his chest, melting in his arms, and Steve understands. That's what made you fall for him in the first place, honestly - he always understands.

So, with no more words spoken, he holds you in the same doorway you walked out of only a couple of weeks ago. He holds you in that doorway until your tears slow and your breathing returns to normal. At some point, his thick fingers begin combing through your hair soothingly, the same way they used to every night at bedtime.

"I don't know what your stance on kids before marriage and after a breakup is, but you should figure it out soon," you mutter into his chest.

His body freezes, and his mind scrambles to catch up with your words. He looks down at your head, his eyebrows furrowing as he tries to make sense of the situation.

Are you truly saying what he thinks you are? You couldn't be...

"I'm pregnant, Steve."

1K notes · View notes

piastri-lover · 1 year ago

Text

always been you; oscar piastri

summary: in which the entire internet ships oscar and his childhood best friend, and they deny it, until they finally realise it's always been each other

pairing: oscar piastri x childhood best friend!reader

author's note: i love oscar piastri more than life itself like it's not even funny

INSTAGRAM

yourusername 📍silverstone race track

liked by oscarpiastri, pierregasly and 610294 others yourusername p4 for my favourite person ever!! (plus i looked so good in the last photo) view comments

user1 she's so pretty wtf

user2 don't know whether i want to be her or be with her

user3 are her and oscar dating?? im new to f1 -user4 no they've just been friends for years and years

oscarpiastri no photo creds?? -yourusername only when u get on the podium --oscarpiastri bet

oscarpiastri ❤️ -yourusername ❤️❤️ --oscarpiastri ❤️❤️❤️ ---yourusername ❤️❤️❤️❤️

user5 oscar's a lucky boy

user6 he needs to wife her up soon or else the rest of us will steal her -user7 they're just friends i dont know what u guys struggle to understand

~~~

oscarpiastri 📍london, england

tagged: yourusername liked by landonorris, yourusername and 2103927 others oscarpiastri london with my girl x view comments

user8 my girl!!!!! -user9 sleeping on the highway tonight

user10 they claim they're not dating but im sorry look at this post

yourusername formula 1 driver and still made me pay for lunch smh -oscarpiastri stfu i offered to pay u INSISTED --yourusername i dont seem to remember that ---oscarpiastri y/n stop it im gonna get cancelled ----yourusername fine i offered to pay dont cancel oscar

user11 theyre so cute

user12 i love how half the photos are london and half are y/n -user13 bros so whipped its unbelievable

user14 im acc convinced theyre dating at this point

user15 y/n is the prettiest ever liked by oscarpiastri -user15 bros not being slick rn

TWITTER

~~~

INSTAGRAM

oscarpiastri replied to your story:

oscarpiastri cmon u cant post stuff like that on ur story

yourusername why not

oscarpiastri anyone can see something like that i wanna be the only person seeing that

yourusername its nothing oscar besides we're just friends arent we

oscarpiastri i panicked y/n ive always loved u u know that

yourusername i confessed to u oscar i told u how i felt and u said nothing

oscarpiastri obv i love u and ur more than a friend to me u know that

yourusername i know i know i know i guess saying it out loud was diff to always knowing

oscarpiastri i know come to spa please

yourusername ive got school

oscarpiastri i dont care for me??

yourusername ur paying for my flight

oscarpiastri ofc i need to see u i need to tell u how i feel in person

yourusername ill see u belgium love u oscar

oscarpiastri love u y/n

~~~

yourusername 📍spa, belgium

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and 293817 others yourusername p2!!! (the race never happened) view comments

user16 no bc shes so pretty -user17 oscar's winning in life

user18 y/n denying the race ever happened -user19 shes so like me fr

oscarpiastri ur my good luck charm -yourusername stop being sappy in my comment section

user20 theyre def dating im sorry -user21 oscar was here in like 20 seconds hes got notifs on fs

user22 shes so leng istg

logansargeant i wonder whos joggers they are huh? -yourusername logan stfu --logansargeant my lips are sealed

~~~

TWITTER

~~~

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 3102947 others yourusername guess who? view comments

user23 oscar right?? -user24 it has to be

oscarpiastri i wonder who?? -yourusername do u have any idea?? --oscarpiastri none at all ---yourusername hmm...

user25 na look at their comments they're def dating

user26 im sorry but they're both so hot -user27 bi panic --user28 mother and father

user29 just waiting for the announcement -user30 any day now

logansargeant i know who -yourusername good for u logan --oscarpiastri can u tell me mate? ---logansargeant just sent u the dm

user31 idc if its oscar i just wanna know who managed to pull the y/n

~~~

oscarpiastri

tagged: yourusername liked by logansargeant, landonorris and 4102958 othersoscarpiastri my everything view comments

user32 i mean we all knew but its cute

yourusername loved u forever -oscarpiastri love u forever --yourusername will love u forever

user33 no theyre so cute

user34 wbk but thanks for the announcement oscar

logansargeant about time -yourusername focus on getting urself a gf logan --logansargeant ouch

user35 how aussie racer boy pulled HER i will never know

yourusername ur fans love me lol -oscarpiastri dont know why --yourusername oy ---oscarpiastri sorry love

user36 I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE

user37 banter in the comment section is my love language

1K notes · View notes

genderlessdude92 · 9 months ago

Note

Hi, I really love your work! If your requests are open and if it's allowed, can I request for headcanons of Vox/Val/Alastor/Lucifer with their biological baby w reader?? I'm sorry if this is weird I just die for family dynamics😭😭 like, how would they act, would they be present or neglectful, and that stuff!! Ik it's impossible to have a child in hell but HEY. ITS FICTIONAL. It's really your decision if this is super fluff or super angst, but personally I believe it would be angst because it's hell and they are really famous 😭 THANKU

AUTHOR RESPONSE: First ask but urmmmmmm OFC OFC OFC!!! I’m all in for dis req :3 I feel like i absolutely will eat up Al’s part of this post so stay tuned. Other ones are questionable because idk if it’s OOC or not but…I’m just a girl!! >.< (I’m a genderless dude as you can see from the name ^^) I’m sorry i’m not funny- These might be short btw im rushing a little bit bc i’m trying to start a multi-chapter fix yay awesome but uhhh i’m still having fun with this 💋

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

AL, VOX, VAL, & LUCI WITH THEIR BIOLOGICAL CHILD

(and reader that gave birth to em somehow <3)

PAIRINGS: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer x Reader, Vox x Reader, Valentino x Fem!Reader (ALL SEPARATE) SUMMARY: Alastor, Lucifer, Vox, and Valentino are dads now. Aw shucks. (Headcannons) WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. Breeding kink, (obv bc Val is in here), Val mention, reader is female because they literally gave birth to them, mentions of pregnancy, birth, Valentino being a weird fuck, Valentino again, unhealthy duck obsession in Lucifer’s area, Breastfeeding, Cannibalism, physical slaps, everybody being nervous shots but Vox, really rushed, lmk if i missed anything pookie (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

NOTICE: please don't copy or steal or translate any of my work or you will be haunted in your dreams and i will spawn something unpleasant at your porch the next day. But...thanks for liking my work !! >.< Property of @l4zyb0n35 and @genderlessdude92

Requests are open, support is highly appreciated!

〰ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ..。.:*･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧₊enjoy!~

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Alastor is 100% nervous at first since he has to be the dad and his dad wasn’t…the best!! ^^

-But also doesn’t want to back away because, I mean, it’s kinda rude to just walk away from your creation that you INTENDED to make real.

-This gentleman’s baby was not an accident, I assure you.

-Alastor would absolutely dangle the baby off the edge of a balcony just to tease you.

-Also tried to feed the baby devil meat to make it a cannibal.

-Suprisingly worked.

-Um.

-He probably got taught to knit by Rosie so if the baby ever needs clothes he’s on it.

-Cradles the baby during his radio show hours, aw, and if the baby ever cries he immediately cuts to a quick song break.

-If both you and Alastor are like completely booked and can’t take care of the baby, he’s giving it to Rosie.

-Rosie can’t? Charlie.

-Charlie can’t? Cancelling all plans.

-He just cares for his bloodline, yeah?

-If the baby ever needs like a chewy sensory toy, he’s going to try and get one that resembles Lucifer.

-Like and apple or a snake OOO A SNAKE NVM

-Snake is better since it resembles two ppl mwuhehehe

-Alastor would be a great girl dad but in general i think he would be rlly doting to them.

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Oh, you thought Alastor was nervous?

-Oh, you’re so funny.

-‘Cuz Lucifer is QUAKING once he finds out you’re pregnant.

-and expecting.

-…and that it’s alive and out the womb.

-Basicslly all because he wasn’t really in Charlie’s life that much.

-But you told him that this can be a second chance?

-Which made him cry more than he was before.

-Yikes.

-Feeds the baby the most fine meals to ever exist for a baby to eat, even tried to sneak in some wine in its milk bottle.

-Then earned a slap at the back of his head from yours truly.

-You.

-I see him as a helicopter parent at first, but then is just chill once they grow more older.

-But he’s like, devoting his immortal LIFE to this baby 24/7.

-The nursery is themed ducks.

-Everywhere.

-Sometimes you get dizzy when you walk in.

-He even wanted to name the baby duck.

-You slapped him again, of course.

-This man acts like a 8th grade frat boy whenever you breast feed the baby like he just scoots away gagging.

-Another slap.

IM SORRY-

-One time in bed you guys were like getting freaky or sum and then you but his nip

-“Honey…what was that?”

-“That’s just how it feels, Luci.”

-“…What?-“

-“When i breastfeed B/N.”

-“…Ew.”

-“BITCH I-“

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Bro is so confident in being a dad.

-The first day after the baby was born he cancelled all his special guests on his show just for the baby to be the only one.

-This man is fucking insane.

-Puts this baby on his. advertisements.

-We’re talking billboards, pop-ups, etc.

-Only lets his supervisor babysit the baby when needed.

-Don’t expect Velvette or Val to even step foot near this baby without Vox in the room.

-It’s like a sibling love-hate relationship :D

-Now i wouldn’t say this baby was on purpose…most likely?

-But honestly, it might happen again because he thinks you’re hot pregnant.

-Who said that what.

-Omg who typed that???

-Fuck this is so short uhhh He like puts on child shows for the baby if they sit in his lap.

-But the baby never ever sleeps in the bed you guys share.

-not in a million years.

-Puts those shirts that look like tuxedos on the baby but they’re just printed on.

-Feeds the baby deer meat.

-Has a deer head mounted above the baby’s crib.

-Takes him deer hunting.

-Vox just needs em to learn early.

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Valentino was “so, so careful” when you guys did it.

-and this baby was 100% and accident.

-obviously you guys couldn’t abortion because like some health reason.

-Val cried that night.

-It was kinda funny that he was crying to keeping a baby.

sorry not sorry

-When the baby is born,

-Oh god should i write that

-Uh

-He’s probably recording.

-Not posting just like…saving it.

-Guys, come on, it Valentino, you should’ve seen this coming.

-Deletes it later though fuck that’s hilarious.

-He starts whining and crying when he sees you breastfeeding.

-“Your wasting the milk, mi precioso, are you kidding me?”

-He’s like in the middle of being a good dad and a bad dad.

-Suprised he made it that far on the scale.

-whenever he’s busy, he gives the baby to some random star and tells them to bring them back by like 10:30 or smth.

-with a coffee order. Very iconic.

-Same idea with Vox and liking you pregnant, and tried to get you pregnant again but you ask him why he doesn’t have a condom on if you don’t have your pills.

-He gets frustrated when that happens lol.

-Can’t wake up the baby!

proceeds to wake them up each night

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

END NOTES: zomg this was sososo fun to write <3 But it’s so fucking short and i didn’t even realize until i was done. I’m actually so sorry. I still like these headcannons, very humorous, very real, thank you for asking me to make this because this is my first ask i got, i still have exactly 16 more, so ur just a little lucky duck, asker. Support is appreciated! New multi-chapter fix i’m working on might be posted on Friday-Sunday!! Baiiii!!!!

-Lynn

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

Masterlist Link

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x wife reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #valentino x reader #vox x reader #hazbin vox x reader #lucifer x reader

391 notes · View notes

stayteezdreams · 1 year ago

Text

Mistletoe Mischief

Plot: Yunho takes every opportunity he can to kiss you under the mistletoe, even if that means him following you around with it.

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Kissing (obvs). Mention of wrists being held down (in playful and romantic way)

Words: 1.4k

As you stared into the cupboard, deciding what you wanted to eat, you failed to hear the soft footsteps creeping up behind you. Grabbing a small bag of your favorite chips, you closed the cupboard and turned around, jumping in surprise.

Yunho stood directly behind you, amused grin on his face and hands behind his back. You let out a sigh of annoyance as you placed your and on your chest.

"What are you sneaking up on me for?"

You rose your brow as he continued to smile at you in silence, mischief in his gaze.

Slowly, he brought his hand out from behind his back as he stepped forward to corner you against the counter. Seeing the mistletoe in his hand, you almost rolled your eyes as you barely refrained from chuckling.

"Yunh-"

Before you could get anything else out, he suddenly swooped down and kissed you. You grunted in surprise as you pushed him away, letting out a bewildered chuckle.

"Yunho, stop!" You failed to sound serious as you giggled at his actions.

Yunho chuckled as well as he tried to kiss you again. Successfully dodging his attacks you dipped underneath his arm and ran out of the kitchen with a laugh, Yunho grinned to himself as he watched you flee.

You shook your head in amused annoyance at Yunho's actions. That had been the fourth time he kissed you under the mistletoe. Apparently the first time after you hung it in the doorway was not enough for him. As he decided to instead, carry it around with him and kiss you whenever he wanted, often catching you by surprise.

The second time had been when you were reading something on your phone. You felt him tap your shoulder and when you looked up, he kissed you, mistletoe in hand and grin on his face.

The third time was about half an hour ago, when you had exited the shower, only to be suddenly scooped into his arms and kissed again.

His actions were undoubtedly cute, and quite romantic, but you knew he had no intention of stopping, which meant it would become more of a nuisance the longer it went on.

Not long later, you encountered him again. As you headed down the hall, Yunho stepped out from his office and blocked your path.

You locked eyes for a moment before you quirked your brow, "What?"

"What?" He repeated, innocence in his tone you knew you couldn't trust.

You squinted suspiciously at him before you tried to walk past, only for him to step in front of you. Stepping to the other side, he only followed suit. After this repeated two more times you huffed.

"What are you doing?"

He grinned happily, "You have to pay the tax."

"Tax?"

He nodded, as he pulled out the mistletoe. You bit you lip to repress the smile that threatened to form.

"Yunho." You kept your tone level, serious.

"Y/n." He repeated in the same tone.

You closed your eyes as you let out a soft breath, "You're ridiculous."

He grinned as he tilted his head sideways, "I know but you love me."

You shook your head as your smile broke out. "Fine."

After quickly leaning up to kiss him, you made your way past him before he could stop you again. You could hear his soft chuckle as you disappeared down the hall.

His attacks continued for the next couple of hours as he surprised you with the mistletoe at any opportunity he could. When you were reading, eating, when you were on the phone, any time you walked into the room he was waiting around the corner.

Finally, when he had his own phone call to take, you spotted the mistletoe on the table and quickly grabbed it. Hiding it in the washing machine, you figured he wouldn't find it. You smiled to yourself as you sat down on the couch and began scrolling on your phone.

It wasn't long before you spotted Yunho entering the room, confused look on his face as he obviously scanned the living room for the mistletoe.

He checked the table, then the couch, then the kitchen before he walked past again, patting his pockets.

"Lose something?" You asked as casually as you could as you watched him searching.

He met your eye, and obviously did not suspect you as you appeared genuinely curious.

He shook his head, "Nope."

You rose your brow, "Okay."

His lack of suspicion did not last as he appeared a few minutes later. "Did you hang the mistletoe up somewhere?"

You met his eyes and shook your head, "No, you're the one whose been carrying it around with you all day."

He hummed under his breath as he casually walked over to you on the couch.

He eyed you closely and you stared at him, "What?"

Reaching over to you, he started feeling your pockets and reaching into your sweater sleeves.

"Yunho!" You said with a laugh while attempting to swat him away.

Finally, he moved to check in between the couch cushions and under the pillows.

He let out a sigh before he placed his hands on your shoulders. "Where is it?"

You shook your head innocently, "I don't know."

He glared half-heartedly as he brought his hands to your sides, "I'll give you to the count of three."

"I don't have it Yunho."

"One..."

"Two..."

"Three!"

As he reached three he began squeezing and tickling your sides, causing you to drop your phone and desperately try to protect yourself. As you laughed and yelled out in alarm, Yunho continued his attack before you finally yelled out.

"Fine! Fine! I hid it, but I'm not telling you where it is!"

Yunho laughed as he stopped tickling you, instead pressing his forehead against yours.

"Is that so?"

You nodded your head, and he only grinned wider. Adjusting himself so he was sitting on top of you, caging you against the couch, you saw a familiar mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

He leaned forward, bringing his mouth next to your ear. "I don't need mistletoe to kiss you."

Suddenly he began kissing you everywhere. Neck, cheek, nose, forehead, and lips.

You failed to hold back your giggles from the onslaught of kisses, failing to push him away as he grabbed and held your wrists.

"Yunho!" You yelled out in a fit of giggles, causing him to finally stop after placing one last kiss to your lips.

You leaned forward, pushing your face into his chest in case he started again. He laughed as he held you against him instead, placing one last kiss on the top of your head.

After a moment of silence he spoke again, "Did it really bother you that much? The mistletoe?"

Pulling away from him and leaning your head back back on the couch you smiled up at him and shook your head. "No, you've just been bombarding me with it so much I thought I'd get back at you a bit."

He pouted dramatically as he gently held your hands. You laughed and shook your head.

"You can't have it back until tomorrow. And I'm limiting the kisses to ten!"

He leaned back as he sighed dramatically making you giggle.

"Only ten?" He asked softly with a pout as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours again.

His puppy dog eyes shined brightly as you rolled your eyes, but gave in. "Okay, fifteen."

"Hmmm, how about fifty?"

"Fifty!?" You laughed.

"What?! Don't I normally kiss you a lot more than fifty times a day?"

You shook your head and he frowned. "Really? I gotta up my boyfriend game then."

You laughed as you gently smacked his shoulders. "You do, but not with the mistletoe."

He grinned as he placed a soft kiss to your lips. "Okay. So... fifteen kisses with the mistletoe, and unlimited without?"

You laughed before groaning, "You're impossible."

He chuckled as he settled on the couch beside you, wrapping you in his arms and pressing his face into your neck. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you held him close.

"Guess what?" He mumbled a moment later.

"What?"

As he shuffled around a bit, you watched as he suddenly held something up.

"Wha-"

He chuckled into your neck as he dangled the mistletoe playfully, "I found it a long time ago."

You groaned as you lied your head back on the couch, only for him to reach his hand around the back of your neck and make you look at him. He held the mistletoe above your head as he grinned mischievously.

"The fifteen limit doesn't start until tomorrow right?"

xx End xx

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#yunho x reader #yunho/reader #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho/reader #ateez x reader #ateez/reader #yunho fic #yunho fluff #12 Days of Christmas #jeong yunho fic #yunho imagine #jeong yunho imagine #ateez imagine #ateez fluff #ateez oneshot #ateez fic #ateez one shot #yunho oneshot

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eternal-love · 15 days ago

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LACY

Pairing: Courtier!Austin x Queen!reader

Summary: Everyone knew about your husband’s exotic interests, specially after the son of some lord arrived at court. A boy that threatened your position.

Warning: Takes place in medieval times, power imbalance, Austin is younger than the reader, royals?, reader is an asshole to Austin, slight smut (oral fem receiving, face riding)

Note: inspired of course by Lacy by Olivia Rodrigo. This is kinda different. I hope you guys like it. Reader is obvs very inspired by Cersei Lannister, that DIVA💜

Before you became queen by marriage, your house had been the most powerful in the kingdom. Your family had ruled for centuries. Until your house was challenged at war for the throne, another house rebelled against the order of things, and unfortunately they won.

You went from being next in line to the throne, to having to marry the man that usurped it from you. You put up with it for your family. Because you wanted to keep them alive.

Years went by and you were a proper queen, one coronated as the ‘Queen of beauty and love’, you were beloved by the commoners, your husband, King Richard, not so much. He was know for being a fool, a crazy and lustful fool. You knew very well that he spent most of his time in brothels

But you got on with it, it’s not like you had much of choice. Plus, the more time you spent far away from that fool, the more time you had to educate yourself. But in the end, you were the Queen and you had to keep appearances. So that’s why you agreed to any celebrations he decided to throw on the hall.

Dressed in the best silks and jewels from the kingdom, you sat besides your King and husband. Drinking wine from a goblet as you watched your courtiers dance around. You noticed how your husband stared at a new courtier you had not seen before. It wasn’t uncommon that new high-born people came to live in the castle and you never noticed.

Your husband stared too much at the boy, your eye couldn’t help but twitch. Everyone knew about the King’s exotic interests. He liked young maidens and young boys.

He wasn’t dumb though, he knew to only fuck them in brothers. Never high-borns but this boy, he was breathtaking. That wasn’t something you could deny. You made sure your handmaidens brought him to you.

“My King, my Queen.” The young boy curtsied in front of the high table.

“Hello, summer child.” You forced out a smile, the boy was gorgeous. “My, you are a beauty What is your name.”

“Thank you, your grace.” The boy smiled at both of you. “And my name is Austin, your Grace.”

Golden hair, blue eyes, porcelain skin, those pointy ears. You could recognize those traits from miles away. The son of Lord Soltheris, from, fittingly, House Soltheris from the Vale. Gorgeous high-bornes came out that house.

“I must keep you close. It fits a queen to be surrounded by such beauties.” You said, when in reality, you already wanted to send him away. You saw the way your husband eyed the boy, it wouldn’t surprise you if you found out later on that your husband had tasted the boy.

You tried to not think much of it, maybe this time around the King would use his brain and know that it wasn’t ideal for him to fuck a young high-born.

But as days went by, you noticed that your husband seemed rather pleased to have him as new courtier, you always saw them together. It wasn’t hard to see that your husband was infatuated.

The boy spent, countless hours in your husband’s chambers. By his side during supper, on his walks by the garden. You started to get paranoid, very. It didn’t befit a Queen to be paranoid over such— boy. But he was beautiful. More beautiful than you believed yourself to be.

As you observed from afar, how the boy walked besides Richard, how he moved, how he laughed, how he dressed. In fine fabrics, you noticed a pattern in the colors he wore and you hated it. Because he used the same colors as you, as well as his clothes were often decorated with golden thread and pearls.

He was a better version of yourself, younger, fitter, even more beautiful. You remembered the words a witch once told you. You had tried to forget them, mayhaps the witch had just want to scare you. But now, the prophecy seemed to be fulfilling itself.

“You will be Queen, for a time. Then there will be another sight for sore eyes. Younger. More beautiful. One that will cast you aside and take everything and everyone you hold dear.”

Austin knew very well that you knew what he was doing with the king, it was one of the reasons why he avoided you at all cost. But there were times where he walked by your bedchamber. Specially in very inconvenient moments. You were arguing with your husband. After all, you still had more right to the throne than he did.

“Do you believe me as the true Queen and ruler?” You stood in front of him, tears pricking at your eyes. After years, you still resented the fact that a man stole your birthright.

“Why must I need jesters when I have you, my dear?” Richard laughed, shaking his head. “The throne is not something you deserve. It’s something you take.”

“How dare you.” You paced around the bedchamber, your hands toying with the fabric of your gown.

“Do you think your father named you heir because he thought you’d be fit to rule? He chose you because he was afraid of me, my family, my house. Because he knew that our legacy, unlike his own, would never be outshined. And because he knew that as long as you were heir, peace would exists and he would keep us under his thumb. He thought of you weak enough to never be able to lead a war. Because you were born a woman.”

You stared at the man. Woman. Why was that an insult? Why? You had more royal blood in your pinky finger than him in his whole body. You were pure blood and he was a bastard. Yet the only important thing was that he had a cock and you did not?

“You’re pathetic.” You muttered as you got closer to him. The King did not like to get insulted, let alone by you.

“You do know, that insulting and challenging me won’t make you grow a cock if you don’t already posses one? And perhaps if you had one, you’d be more pleasant to be around.”

You scoffed, a part of you felt hurt, but you took it in, tried to not let it get to you in front of him. But as you turned to look at the door, it was slightly open, and there you saw him. Austin.

After the argument, you made sure to make your way towards Austin’s bedchamber. You knocked on the large wooden door, to which his voice rang through.

“Yes?” He spoke, his voice sounded a bit nervous.

“Will you let me in?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“I don’t think so, your Grace.” Austin stuttered, oh, he was scared. He already knew you hated him, what stopped you from wanting to kill him?

“Do you think if I wanted you dead I would let a wooden door in my own castle, filled with my own guards, stop me?” Was this kid dumb? Dumber than you, at least he wasn’t that pleasantly blessed.

“No, your Grace.” He spoke before opening the door slowly. You made your way inside. His bedchamber although smaller than yours, was pleasantly warm.

“You must have overheard the conversation between the King and I.” You said, your eyes scanning Austin.

You hated his skin that looked like uncooked puff pastry, his wide blue eyes that looked like daisies on the spring. He looked like an angel brought back to life. You didn’t know if you wanted to have him hanged or if you wished to have him under your skirts. French kissing your cunt until you came all over his dumb and pretty face.

“It wasn’t my intention, your Grace. I swear it to you.” Austin stuttered. “I was passing by and could not help but overhear it. But I could not help but offer you my sorrows. It must be hard dealing with his Grace.”

“Really? How tolerant of you.” You said, smirking. “Dear God, you’re perfect, aren’t you? You— fuck my husband then come here and offer your condolences after he mistreats me once more.”

The color from his face disappeared as soon as you said that. It’s not like he had any saying, what the king said, went.

“It is not my saying. Believe. I cannot deny what the King says, good sister. You must know that. I did not expect that to become my role when I came here to court.” Austin was quick to come up with excuses. “You know, good sister, my mother once told me that men—“

You interrupted him harshly. “Nobody cares what your dear mother told you.”

His face fell, you only smirked even more. You looked around his chamber once more.

“Wine. You have wine?”

“It’s a bit early in the day for me to drink wine, your Grace.” Austin said, innocence in his tone. He never drank, not until supper. And even then, he drank very little.

“You annoy me. Every breath you take even in the same perimeter as me annoys me. So here’s what we will do. I want you to not even think of looking at me. And if you ever call me good sister again,” You spoke harshly, talking closer to him. “I’ll have my men rip out your tongue with their hands.”

You saw his face contort in horror. Who wouldn’t fear you? After all you were the second most powerful person in the kingdom.

Months went by and to Austin, your relationship with him was confusing. He didn’t quite understand it. He admired you, he truly did. But he found it very hard to understand if you liked him or loathed him. Sometimes he himself though he loathed your sole existence as Queen consort.

You weren’t nice to him, at least that’s not how he saw it. Your comments always masked with a silk of kindness to try and hide the venom. You were a viper dressed in fine clothing. Everyone at court was a viper.

But you could walk amongst them and not get attacked. Thats what made you even more cunning, knowing how much power you held.

But it never fulfilled you, not matter how many people were scared of you, how many power you held over a council, because all you wanted was to be respected, not feared. But being a woman, it was the only way of keeping yourself safe. Being feared.

If only you had been born a man, perhaps a civil war wouldn’t have occurred in the first place. Perhaps you would had grown to sit on the throne, wear your father’s crown in your head, rule over all kingdoms. But it would never happen. You were only left with the fear, the fear of being replaced, killed, set aside.

In the comfort of your bedchamber, you would cry while drinking wine, sometimes you would just drink wine. Stare out the high window.

One night, you drank wine in your bedchamber, your handmaidens embroidering on the floor. When the door of your bedchamber opened, your sworn guard entered, announcing a guest.

“The Lord Austin Soltheris, your Grace.” Your guard moved and there came in the blond boy. A part of you scoffed, but then, after taking another tip of wine, you spoke.

“Clear the room.” You said, your handmaidens and sworn guards left immediately, closing the door behind you. You leaned back on the chair, staring at Austin.

“Your Grace.” He bowed immediately. You chuckled softly, you weren’t tipsy, you had grown very fond of wine. It didn’t affect you as much as before.

“Sit.” You commanded him, to which he listened. God, you could stare into those blue eyes for hours.

“I thought I’d come in and look in on you, your Grace. You have not been attending supper at the great hall.”

“How— sweet of you. You’re perfect.” You mocked him. “Worrying for your queen. I must admit that not even my husband worries for my absence. Mayhaps I should tell my husband that his favorite delight has been trying to get rather close to me.”

Austin immediately shook his head. “Your grace, please. I am only trying to do what’s best for my house. I have no ill intentions nor am I trying to use the impetuousness of my youth. You must believe me.”

Oh, you stared at him horrified. You had said those exact same words once when you were forced to wed Richard. How you plead for him to see the good side of you, to know that you weren’t a threat to him.

“Let me give you an advice, summer child.” You took another sip from your goblet. “Don’t ever do that again. As now I know how desperate you are for protection. You are at my mercy, it must be difficult to keep it inside but the more people that know you’re afraid, the weaker you get. Because they know how to take advantage of you.”

You said, swirling your goblet, the wine seemed to be the less of your interests now.

“I love his grace.” He said, gulping. But it was too late to try and pretend to know what he was doing.

“You don’t fool anyone, Austin. You’re as naive as they come. I see why my husband likes you.” You said, raising your eyebrow. “You’re just like me. A pretender.”

“I don’t understand, your Grace.” Austin looked at you in concussion. Yes, he was lying about loving the King, he just wanted protection, it didn’t matter how he had to gain it. But there hadn’t been much going around with the king, the king was always too drunk anyways.

“A pretty face isn’t your only weapon, the best one is between your legs. Be proud of how you decide to use it. Drink.” You gave him your goblet. To which he took a small sip. “Not like that. Drink.”

He drank, but his eyes stayed on. Oh, how sweetly the fox moved when it��s surrounded by the hound.

The boy stared at you with such intensity, you could tell he wanted you. Which men in the kingdom did not desire to eat you like a piece of cake anyways? You understood. You were beautiful. The most beautiful woman.

A few cups of wine between you two, and a few stolen kisses, ended with Austin’s face between your legs. His tongue attacking your cunt. He had undressed you, you were completely exposed to him.

You tugged at his hair, even if that was extremely satisfying, it wasn’t enough. Nothing was ever enough for you. You grinded your hips a little, your left hand gripped the armrest of the chair.

“What a good boy I have.” You moaned, your voice obviously tightened. “Aren’t you a good boy?”

He hummed, his blue eyes staring up at your face. He looked pathetic, eating you out like a starved man. Like a fucking commoner or a harlot from a brothel.

You you tugged his hair and pulled him apart from your cunt, his lips plump and swollen already, his big blue eyes staring up at you.

“You’ll listen to what I say.” You said firmly.

“Yes, your Grace.” Austin nodded, his eyes made you want to fuck him. You felt as powerful as a man could feel before fucking a young maiden.

He was your young and beautiful maiden. Just for you to ruin.

You made him lay in his back on the bed, you were going to ride his face like a man rode a stallion. You positioned yourself, his nose and mouth inches away from your exposed fold, once he started tongue fucking your first, you were a different woman, you were moaning out all sorts of things. You sounded like a bitch in heat. But as you rode his face, as he grunted and grabbed your thighs, you were in complete ecstasy and you knew that God would punish you.

You were committing adultery, you were getting your lust get in your way. But right now you didn’t care, not when this felt so good.

You were reaching your peak, you had never felt this kind of pleasure.

“Just like that!” You were able to scream loudly, as you finished over his face, you were riding out your orgasm. You laid back on your bed, panting as he tried to catch his breath. Feeling guilty, he stood up immediately, pacing around.

“What have I done? I have defiled my house, my honor, my body.” He paced around, guilt ever-consuming. This was treason. “Must I confess this? Should I?”

“You won’t confess anything. You are not the first one, boy. One of the King’s squires, Sir Lance Marshall, fucked me relentlessly every night whenever I asked him to. After many nights he could not handle the guilt and confessed it to my husband. Do you know where Sir Lance Marshall is now?”

Austin gulped. How many times had he not heard about the death of one of the King’s squires. “Gone.”

“What a gentle word. I would use— slaughtered. Do you must believe that the King doesn’t like snitches.” You told him. To which he immediately froze. He did not want to be slaughtered. Not at all.

“But, my Queen. I must— I will go to hell.”

“And I will burn by your side.” You stood up and walked towards him, your hand touching his soft cheek.

“But my house. I should have not defiled my honor. I have tainted my house’s name. I am not even married. I should repent in Church and then go back—” he spoke like a terrified child, it made you laugh. But you had seen how eager he had been to please you. And you wouldn’t minds keeping him around as your delight.

“You will not do such thing. As your Queen, you are commanded to remain in court and by my side.” Your touch became much rougher, it made him whimper.

“Understood, your Grace. I promise I’ll do my best to keep you pleased.” He said softly, he sounded like a wounded puppy.

You had him at your mercy, how fun is that?

You were all smiles while you were breaking your fast with your husband, you spent night after night by the company of that stupid boy.

If you couldn’t be him, why not fuck him? It made sense in your mind. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer.

“Why are you smiling?” The King asked you as he stopped eating, he raised his eyebrow.

“Because I am happy.” You smiled as you lifted your goblet.

“Why are you happy?” This was the happiest your husband had ever seen you in a decade.

Your smile was genuine, which was suspiciously concerning. At least to him. You rarely smiled like this anymore. Only when there was any kind of interaction you despised or when you got compliments.

You smiled even wider as he asked you that. You stood up and walked to the head of the table, where he sat, you placed your goblet down, you leaned in.

“Because I have your little whore.”

The King’s face fell, there was no way you two were fucking the same exact boy. To which, you weren’t, Austin only fucked you. The King was always to drunk to remember that the boy never even touched him.

“And do remember, my King…” you took another sip of your wine. “It is only considered treason if he finishes inside.”

#austin butler #austinbutler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler fic #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #austin butler is so hot

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t-lostinworlds · 2 years ago

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Be(tter) In Reality With Me | Bucky Barnes

》 PAIRING: bucky barnes x pregnant!female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: established relationship (marriage), angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

》 SUMMARY: Bucky needed to remind you how he would never ever betray you, especially when the him in your dreams was showing you otherwise.

》 WARNINGS: bad dreams/nightmares, pregnancy & baby stuff, mentions of: infidelity, miscarriage, anxiety, toxic past relationships; implied smut at the start (nothing graphic), pet names (doll, my love, sweetheart), overprotective!husband!bucky (he’s a hoverer), some hurt, so much comfort, very fluffy moments a.k.a. happy ending obvs.

》 WORD COUNT: 6.5k+

A/N: this is another unplanned one, like i really just started writing this a few days ago. well, i’ve been toying with the idea for a while but i just never got around to writing/thinking of the perfect premise for it. i coud’ve gone the crack route but you get angst instead. but anyway, this is barely proofread, idk how this turned out. and i know ‘husband fever’ isn't a thing but i honestly got it while writing this soooo hope you enjoy it too!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ B. BARNES MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

The disappointment was sharp in your chest as you trudged towards the front door of your home, fingers curled around an unopened envelope that felt heavier than any normal piece of paper should.

Your husband was supposed to be there with you.

Bucky was supposed to meet you at the clinic so you could find out your baby's gender together. But he hadn't been answering any of your messages or calls since this morning. Better yet, he'd been avoiding you all week. There had been more voicemails than there were replies. It was worrying because you two had been fine, things were normal the week before and now it felt as though he was avoiding you at all cost.

Yet the disappointment was quickly replaced by dread when you opened the front door.

The heels were what you saw first, a pair that you were sure wasn't yours. Even if there was a slightest chance that they were, they had no business being down here and not in your closet. Being pregnant, you hadn't worn heels in months.

Next were the scattered clothes, both familiar and not, a feminine scent lingering in the air that had your stomach turning in knots. They were the most horrid pieces of bread crumbs, one that you knew was leading you towards something vile and agonizing.

Your heartbeat was ringing in your ears as you ascended the stairs, each thump growing harsher to marry with your step. Your fingers trembled on your baby bump, the fluttering inside growing restless like a blaring alarm. When you reached the landing, that was when you heard it.

An enthusiastic creaking of the bed, salacious moans and grunts sinisterly harmonizing, unashamedly loud as if they weren't doing something so evil. It was deafening that you couldn't even hear your own heart shatter into pieces.

You wanted to turn around and leave, telling yourself that seeing the treacherous act would do more harm than good. But you didn't have control of your own body. You were pulling at your own hand, wanting to drag yourself away but to no avail as you kept walking.

The door was wide open when you reached it, shameless and uncaring of getting caught.

And you stood there, frozen, shattering into pieces as you watched your husband mold his naked body into another woman, his metal fingers tangled in her blonde hair, his hips driving back and forth recklessly, their faces contorted in pleasure while a picture of you and him on your wedding day stood on the nightstand.

It felt like a bullet to the heart when he lifted his head and met your eyes.

Gone were the soothing blues you'd called home, gone was the man you'd given your all, who you'd grown to love, to trust.

There were only dark gray hues laced with no guilt, no remorse, a face resembling the love of your life but was truly the Devil incarnate.

Hot tears rolled down your cheeks in quick succession, bile and air stuck in your throat, your heart stopping as something warmer, thicker with a metallic scent trickled down your leg.

He grinned.

You gasped.

•••

Bucky noticed how you'd been short with him lately.

Your kisses were less enthusiastic, his touches or any form of affection were being brushed off, your conversations turning brief, other times barely happening at all.

He tried to reason that you simply needed space, that maybe he was overbearing, overstimulating your senses by hovering around you too much. But, really, who could blame him for taking care of you and making sure his pregnant wife was healthy and safe?

But it was at night that his concern turned to suspicion, when you were facing away from him when you slept, muttering and mumbling, restless. It was when you'd flinch in surprise when he'd wake you up, eyes dazed with something else other than drowsiness. He'd ask you what was wrong, and each time you'd shake your head wordlessly and attempt to go back to sleep.

He remained patient though. It was the least he could do, especially in your state.

Still, that didn't mean he wasn't downright worried, especially when he found something uncanny about your behavior.

Bucky expected your irritability and annoyance. You snapping at him for something so mundane was a common thing he'd been facing lately and had certainly no qualms over. Your mind, emotions, and body were going through a lot and in waves, it was the bare minimum for him to understand. So he never took your harsh glares and clipped tones to heart.

But what was uncanny was the look of doubt, followed by a flicker of fear and then the heartbreak that would cross your face. It was in split seconds, when you see him on the phone, when he was out longer than he'd promised after getting you one of your weird cravings, when he came back late at night after a spontaneous outing with the guys when Wanda and Nat all but kicked him out since it was their turn to pamper you.

Bucky had a feeling that something was wrong. He simply couldn't put a finger as to what.

The nagging voice in the back of his head only grew when Sam and Sarah were in town. It was a surprise visit, so they didn't catch you in time.

You were already out with your mother, a rocky relationship that you hoped would start to mend over baby clothes and strollers.

"Bucky! Come on!" Sarah groaned playfully when he refused to tell them the gender of the baby.

He wanted you to disclose it, and he certainly wasn't going to do it without you by his side. You found out together, it was only fair you tell people the news together, too.

The harsh slam of the front door silenced everyone.

Bucky knew it was you right away, rushing to meet you in the hallway when he heard the intensity of your heartbeat and the sharpness of your breaths, footsteps hurried as if you'd been running.

"Hey," he said softly, cupping your face in his hands, his heart clenching at the sight of your stricken features. "What's wrong?"

It took you a minute to respond, eyes flickering between his face and over his shoulder, like you were looking for something. Bucky watched your body slowly relax when Sam and Sarah followed closely behind him.

It only confused him more.

"You feeling okay?" he asked, thumb stroking your warm cheek as he gently placed the other on your stomach.

"Y-Yeah, I thought—" You shook your head, finally meeting his eyes with a sad smile. "Mom canceled last minute."

"Oh I'm sorry, sweetheart," he sighed, pulling you into his arms, kissing the top of your head when you let out a shaky breath, cheek pressed on his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

Bucky knew how you were truly looking forward to this day. You'd been carefully dividing your lists into two so you could buy things with your mother and then with him, too.

"We'll just get those on our shopping trip, okay?" he murmured against your crown, hands rubbing soothing patterns on your back. Glancing behind him, he added with a lighter tone, "Or you can give Sam the list and he'll just gift us everything."

"Oh I would gladly do it," The self—not really—proclaimed uncle agreed. "If Buckaroo here will finally tell us whether we're having a niece or a nephew."

Bucky scoffed, "You know you can choose gender-neutral colors, right?"

"Oh no, I'm not talking about colors," Sam said, grinning. "I'm talking about quantity."

"Are you saying the niece gets more?" you asked with a soft laugh as you pulled away. The sound brushed away Bucky's worry, if only briefly, as he felt the tension leave your body. Still, his arm remained on your waist as you turned to your guests, his thumb rubbing soft circles as a means of comfort.

"Obviously," Sam confirmed, rolling his eyes playfully. "Gotta treat her like a princess."

"Can't argue with that." Bucky turned to you with an encouraging nod. "You want to put them out of their misery?"

"Well, you're having…" you trailed off, smile widening, eyes twinkling as a joyful glow kissed your face. The exact reason why Bucky loved letting you tell the news and being there when you did so. "A nephew."

The contrast between the siblings' reactions was amusing. Sarah erupted into a cheer resembling happiness and victory, while Sam all but threw his head back with a groan. Bucky still saw his friend try his best to hide a smile, though.

"I told you!" Sarah playfully smacked his brother on the arm. "A mother's intuition is never wrong."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam rolled his eyes, before turning to you with a proud grin, arms wide open. "Come here you."

You chuckled as you walked into his embrace, mumbling a soft "Thank you" at his congratulations. Sarah hugged you next, all teary yet happy smiles and sweet words as you both wandered to sit in the living room, the mother of two boys already gushing to you about endless advice.

"I'm happy for you man," Sam said as he pulled Bucky into a hug, patting his back before pulling away with narrowed eyes. "You better be taking care of her."

"Of course I am," Bucky scoffed, turning to watch you with a fond smile as you chatted animatedly, excitement evident in your well-being. "Hell, she might even be getting annoyed with my overbearing ass."

"Well, it's better to be overbearing than absent," Sam stated.

Bucky couldn't agree more.

Because fine, maybe he was being too much by always keeping an eye out for you even though you were safe and sound, lounging on the couch as Sam started pestering you about naming the baby after him. But if he wasn't, then he would've missed the way your smile slipped from time to time, shoulders slumping with exhaustion before you'd catch yourself and sit straight up and pretend your energy was still high.

He was thankful that Sam was perceptive enough to catch it too, along with the hints Bucky was throwing his way. So they cut their visit short, understanding that you needed to get some rest even if you hadn't explicitly said so.

Bucky was right on his call when the second the front door shut closed, your body visibility deflated, the day finally catching up with you.

He was probably hovering like a goddamn helicopter, trailing behind you when you did as much as walk from the living room to the bathroom, and then waiting for you outside the door. But if he hadn't, he would've missed your soft sniffles on the other side and the far-away look in your eyes once he'd checked on you twice after taking way too long inside than how you normally took.

If Bucky hadn't been overbearing, he would've missed the signs that something was bothering you, like something was eating away at your conscience.

"Hey, come here," he called for you later that night, sitting on the edge of the bed and beckoning you closer with his hands outstretched. Tangling your fingers together, he pulled you to stand in front of his opened legs, kissing your bump before resting his cheek on it, looking up at you with nothing but concern. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, attempting to smile but it didn't quite reach your eyes. "Just tired."

That only made his worry grow more.

It was something he'd noticed lately, too, how you'd been having trouble sleeping, much less, staying asleep. Most of the time, once you were comfortable in bed, it only took you a minute or two before you were out like a light.

At first, Bucky thought it was because you were nearing the end of your second trimester. It was to be expected, according to the countless pregnancy books he'd buried his face in and the weekly pregnancy calendar he found on the internet—which showed how big the baby was, what symptoms you were likely to feel and ways to aid you through it, how many weeks there were left, exercises to keep you comfortable and healthy and so on—he used as a guide.

But he didn't think nightmares were supposed to be part of it.

Bucky knew they weren't merely innocent dreams because you were always so shaken when he'd wake you up. There was always a sting settling in his chest when you'd pull away from his touch for a good few moments, eyes avoiding his as you tried to catch your breath. You'd only crawl back into his arms once your heart had settled into a calm rhythm, the haze in your irises never truly gone but faded.

You never told him what your dreams consisted of and Bucky never pushed.

He couldn't. Not with the risk of upsetting you even more. All he could do was remain patient. He knew you would tell him eventually.

Bucky just wished it didn't have to take your breaking point for that to happen.

•••

The mumbling was what stirred him awake.

Bucky quickly sat up to check on you, his frown growing deeper once he saw your features littered with distress.

Yet before he had the chance to gently take you away from your troubled slumber, you suddenly shot up with a distressed shout,

"No!"

Your sobs immediately hit his ears, your frantic hands pulling the sheets away as if they were suffocating you. Your body trembled, chest heaving as you hastily checked your bump before you trailed your fingers down your inner thighs, bringing them up to your line of sight as if you were expecting to see something horrible coating your skin.

Dread clutched at Bucky's heart when the inkling as to what you expected to see evaded his mind.

"Hey, hey, hey," he rushed, kneeling in front of you and grabbing your face in his hands in an attempt to snap you out of your panic. Tear-filled eyes met his and his heart broke at the utter fear and agony that covered your face.

He pressed his forehead against yours, never looking away as he kept one cold hand on your burning and wet cheek and took yours with the other. He pressed your palm above his heart, hoping that it would help ground you.

"Breathe, sweetheart," he coaxed, inhaling deeply, encouraging you to follow, exhaling once you did. He took your other hand and pressed it against his jaw, letting his warm breath flow over your palm to help aid you in steadying your breathing. "That's it, my love, breathe with me."

Bucky repeated the action as many times he could, marrying it with encouraging words, only stopping when he could hear your heart slow to a steady beat.

"Y-You—" You choked back a whimper, burying your face into his neck as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, gripping him tightly. "I-I'm okay."

It sounded more like a question than it was a statement to Bucky.

"You're okay," he reassured firmly, kissing your forehead and steadying your shaking hands over your stomach. "You both are."

Silence covered the room aside from your deep breaths, the soft rustling of the sheets following suit as Bucky shifted to sit behind you, guiding you between his legs until your back was pressed against his chest. You rested all your weight on him, his hands covering your own as he coaxed them to move in slow circles over your stomach. He littered your shoulder with soft kisses, trailing up the side of your neck then your cheek, moving back down as he whispered sweet reassurances.

"You wouldn't do that to me, w-would you?" you asked after a moment.

"Do what, my love?"

Your voice came out as a broken whisper, as if you were scared to say it any louder, as if it would come true if you did.

"Cheat on me."

Bucky's answer was immediate.

"No." He gently turned you around in his arms, your legs thrown over his thigh as you sat sideways. Taking your face in his hand, he nudged the tip of your nose with his to get you to look at him, to let you see the truth in his eyes, emotions bared and unhidden. "I would never."

You nodded meekly before dropping your head, his lips touching your crown.

"Sweetheart, hey," he whispered, fingers finding your chin to prevent you from hiding again. His frown deepened when you met his gaze, the pain and conflict coating your dulled irises doing nothing to ease his worries. "Where is this coming from?"

But with one look at your trembling form and troubled eyes, Bucky's heart sank at the realization.

"Doll…" He took a deep breath, thumb stroking your cheek tenderly. "Is this what you've been dreaming of lately?"

Bucky never expected for such a small nod to break his heart so much.

"I-I watched you and—"

"No, no, no," he interrupted, shaking his head vehemently, kissing the tip of your nose, and then each of your eyelids. "You don't have to tell me right now. I don't want you to dwell on it for too long."

"I have to get out," you whispered yet your tone was adamant, fingers starting to nervously fiddle with his vibranium ones.

Bucky hesitated for a moment. He didn't want to stress you out more than you already were. But when you squeezed his hand reassuringly, he sighed, offering you a small yet supportive smile. "Okay. But don't force it, please, sweetheart. I don't want you getting upset even more."

You nodded.

Bucky listened.

He listened with bated breath as you recounted your dreams, his heart tearing itself apart, piece by piece with each gruesome detail you managed to stutter out. Heels. Clothes. Stairs. Sounds. Bedroom. Bodies. Picture Frame.

Bucky made sure to remind you to take your time and take deep breaths, it's just a bad dream, wiping away your tears as he held you close in his arms, you're my everything, littering whichever part of you he could reach with soft kisses to remind you were here, present in reality with him, and that you're okay.

Bucky never thought he'd feel inhumane anger over a version of himself that wasn't and would never be part of reality. He'd honestly die first. Yet, even then, he still couldn't picture subjecting you to such awful betrayal and hurt.

If he could jump into your dreams and excruciatingly make that asshole pay, no matter if it was some version of him, he would do it over and over and over again. No questions asked.

"And t-then there was b-blood," you took a sharp breath, a knife into Bucky's chest as fresh tears escaped your eyes, your grip around his hand tightening. "I-I lost our—"

"That's enough," Bucky interrupted, voice soft yet hoarse as a lump lodged itself in his throat, blinking away his unshed tears. With one hand on the back of your head, he pressed his lips against your brow. "It's just a nightmare, sweetheart."

"It f-felt so real," you choked back a sob, shaking your head as if you were hoping it would rid the images away.

"This is real," Bucky said, placing your palm on his cheek, the other on your baby bump with his own hands covering yours. "You're okay. Our baby boy is okay. We are going to be okay."

You nodded, taking deep, shaky breaths as you brought his palm to your lips. You kissed it a few times, three more before you wrapped his arms around your form, leaning forward to bury your face into his neck.

"I would never do that to you," he murmured against the side of your head, rubbing gentle circles on your back. "You trust me, right?"

"I do!" you said, eyes frantically looking into his with all the reassurance you could muster despite your tiredness, lips trembling as you repeated, "I trust you with everything that I have. I trust you with my life, Buck—"

He nodded. He knew you did. He didn't feel any ounce of uncertainty in your voice, didn't see any assumption that he was capable of being unloyal in your eyes. Maybe that was where your conflict came from, your heart battling with the lies your subconscious was feeding you.

This wasn't about the strength of your trust in him. This was something else entirely.

"Who put this in your head, hmm?"

Bucky knew you well enough, how you sometimes got too into your overthinking mind. Your past relationships definitely contributed to that fact. Toxicity to downright emotional abuse and various infidelities from previous boyfriends, it was no surprise that you came out of those relationships scarred.

You went to therapy when you finally had the resources to, and Bucky was always there to support you, told you it was nothing to be ashamed of. Hell, he was going to individual sessions himself, much less frequently compared to his earlier years, but the path to healing was never linear. He even suggested couples counseling—once a month at best, twice on the bad ones. Not because something was broken with your relationship, but only as a tool to be able to understand each other more, to keep things healthy between you both.

It helped tremendously.

You'd grown to shine brighter each day, letting yourself be free of the doubtful voices and instead accept and own that you were deserving to be loved, strongly, loyally, and unconditionally.

Now, after being together for eight years—three in a relationship and five years of marriage—you and Bucky were stronger, healthier, happier. And with a baby boy on the way, he knew it would only strengthen your bond, adding more joy and love to your little family.

But recently, your pregnancy hadn't been easy on your mental state. With your body preparing itself to welcome new life into this world, to your hormones fluctuating, it only heightened your emotions, and that included the bad ones.

So it wasn't far-fetched for your anxious thoughts to grow like weeds in your head, unrelenting and parasitic with no means of stopping unless you pluck it out from the root. But for the first sprout to emerge, someone had to have planted that seed first.

"Remember when I went on that 'girl's night in' get-together?"

Bucky sighed. That was two weeks ago. He should've known that your quietness when you got home was something to be worried about. Even more when it was roughly the same time you started having trouble sleeping. To think that you had to deal with your dreams alone for that long—

He pulled you closer, rubbing your arms with a kiss on your forehead. "Yeah, I remember."

"Do you remember Karla?"

Bucky remembered her too. He only met her once when you brought him as your plus one to her engagement party. Now, he wasn't the type of person who was quick to pass judgment on people, especially at the first meeting. But first impressions? She hadn't exactly been the best, too forward and sometimes, rude for Bucky's liking. But she was your friend, so he let it slide.

"She arrived late. She was already very drunk and distraught," you continued once Bucky confirmed with a nod. "We immediately tried to console her, get her to calm down, but she just wouldn't let go of the bottle of whisky, started grabbing the wine the girls were having and chugging it down too. Turns out, she walked in on her fiancé with her best friend in their living room."

Bucky pressed his lips against your crown with a sigh, rubbing circles on your back as he let you pick at the metal plates of his arm. It was a nervous habit. Yet you also said it was comforting, grounding, getting to feel the coldness of the prosthetic.

"Then she looked at me and saw my bump—God that dress didn't really hide much, huh?" you chuckled, voice void of humor.

Bucky loved that dress on you, and he showed you just how much before driving you to that get-together. It was a shame that the memory was now tainted.

"B-But, I don't know, it was probably because I was the only married one in our group, o-or she was just that drunk but she started targeting me," you paused with a deep breath, eyes meeting his with a shake of your head as fresh tears gathered on your waterline.

"She started yelling at me and telling me that I was rubbing it in her face, what she could've had. And then she started screaming how you would do the same any day now, if you weren't already doing it because it was obvious you won't like it that my body is changing and getting bigger a-and that you'd find some slimmer model and she told me to leave you before it's too late and I just—"

Bucky felt hot white rage grip him.

He couldn’t care less what other people's opinions of him were. With what his past life was, he learned not to let it get to him. He should feel insulted, to hear the disrespect against his morals to downright questioning his loyalty to his wife, especially from someone he couldn't give a shit about.

But he wasn't mad about that. Oh no.

He was furious about what you had to endure.

The audacity of someone to make you upset and stressed, especially in your current condition, had him outraged. No one, absolutely no one had the right to raise their voice, much less, fucking yell at you. He didn't care if it was the president of some country, a powerful alien or a close family friend—

Nobody disrespects his wife.

"You know none of that is true," he said as calmly as he could despite wanting to give that 'friend' of yours a piece of his mind. Cupping your face with both hands, he brushed his thumbs against the corner of your lips. "Hell, I showed you how much I love your changing body earlier that day in the kitchen, didn't I?"

That managed to coax a giggle from you, faint and teary but he still took it as a win.

"Look, what happened to your friend was awful. I wouldn't ever wish that on anyone," he said, jaw clenching. "But for her to bring you down with her while you're pregnant? That's just cruel."

"I'm sorry," you whispered sadly, pressing his palm on your lips. "I shouldn’t have let her words get to me."

"Sweetheart, no, you did nothing wrong," Bucky insisted. "Your emotions are all over the place as is, your hormones even more. And I know how impressionable you get when your anxiety is high and, fuck, you must've been so stressed when she basically berated you in front of everyone I just—" He took a deep breath, pressing his forehead against yours. "I wish you could've told me sooner."

"I was worried you'd take it the wrong way," you admitted shakily. "Because I do trust you, but things got loud in my head and I just—"

"I know," he hummed, smiling reassuringly. "I know, doll. You don't have to explain it to me."

You sighed, nodding, your body slowly relaxing with a hint of a grateful smile touching your lips. And with the weight slowly falling off your shoulders, your drowsiness followed suit—the fluttering of your eyelids, the calmness of your breaths as you all but rested on him.

Bucky fluffed your pregnancy pillow before gently guiding you to a comfortable position, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose before pressing his lips gently onto yours. He hummed at your satisfied sigh, hands caressing your body, pouring as much of his love into every simple touch as he could muster.

"You're my whole world, my everything," he whispered to you and you only, the person who matters to him the most. "I would never put myself in a position where I'd even risk losing the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Bucky's brows furrowed when he felt a flutter against his palm where he'd rested it on your bump.

"I think someone's a little jealous," you teased softly, fingers pushing his hair away from his forehead.

"Now, we can't have that," he chuckled, shifting his body until he was face-to-face with your belly. He pulled at your shirt, revealing your skin before littering each part and stretch marks with loving kisses. Smiling, he corrected himself, "One of the best things that's ever happened to me."

His grin grew wider as you started carding your fingers through his hair. He could honestly fall asleep like this, resting on your bump with your loving touches.

"Say, you're going to kick my ass if I hurt Mama, wouldn't you, squirt?" he murmured against your tummy, his heart lurching when he felt a faint kick. Bucky gaped at you, chuckling at your giggles before pressing his lips back on your skin. "Gonna be a mama's boy I can already tell."

"I love you," you said, eyes glistening but with the smile that graced your face, Bucky knew they were happy tears this time.

"And I love you," he hummed, resting his cheek on your bump to meet your gaze, his fingers tracing hearts on your skin. "Both of you."

•••

"Doll, you don't have to do this."

"They're going to be here in an hour."

"I know but you shouldn't be on your feet too much."

"Exercise is good for pregnant women," you said, tilting your head at your husband with a knowing grin. "You told me that, according to the books you've read."

"I know what I said," Bucky groaned, hands finding your hips as he tried to gently steer you to sit on the chair, again. "But in moderation, you've been standing for—"

"Five minutes since you last made me sit down," you giggled, continuing to set up the dinner table with the snacks and appetizers you had set up. The main meal was kept warm in the oven.

It was your turn to host the get-together your friend group had once a month. And being in your third trimester, you were unable to stay up too late. So you opted on having a small brunch instead of the usual nightly gathering.

"Then, let me take care of the rest, please?" he begged, wrapping his arms around your form to stop your movements, lips pressed on the thin strap of your sundress. And if he wasn't overly cautious about your well-being, he probably would've already carried you to bed to let you rest. "Just sit and order me around."

Now, who could deny that offer?

Bucky was a great husband.

You knew this and he had done nothing but actively prove that to you time and time again.

You knew you shouldn't have let yourself get to a point of spiraling deep into your anxious thoughts that they started to affect your dreams somehow. But it honestly got overwhelming so quickly that you didn't get the chance to snap out of it. Worse yet, it made you dig the hole deeper and deeper by keeping it to yourself.

It was a lapse in judgment and, as Bucky had said, your emotions were all over the place. Not to mention, the situation wasn't at all pleasing, getting yelled at in front of an audience was awful already, a recipe for anxious disaster. What more if your hormones were making everything ten times worse?

Your friend simply caught you at the wrong moment.

The same friend that was going to be coming over in a few minutes.

You didn't tell Bucky yet because you knew he would never let her into the house. But you were willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. She was drunk and hurting that night, emotions probably driving her rash decisions. Granted you hadn't spoken to her since, but she probably didn't mean what she had said.

Or so you thought.

After shooting you an admonishing look when he recognized who walked into the door last, Bucky was back in Pilot Mode.

It's what you named his hovering because he did go into certain modes when taking care of you, even if he argued otherwise. And despite having agreed that he was going to give you and the girls space—and he had been sulking in his office as he watched whatever game there was on—it rapidly changed when the party moved to your backyard.

The sun was at its peak in the clear blue sky, warmth evident in the air despite sitting under the shade of the large patio umbrella Bucky installed himself.

First, it was pulling you aside for some sunscreen, lathering your skin up as he lectured you about taking sips of water every now and then to stay hydrated and to go back inside if it got too hot. Then, it was standing in the kitchen, right by the open window where he had a clear view of you, discreetly observing even though his large stature was making him so obvious. Your friends had giggled about it since most did find it endearing. That last one was him bursting out of the backdoor with a cold glass of water and a clean towel in hand, wiping away any sweat that littered your skin and urging you to drink, parting away with a chaste yet loving kiss.

It was what made Karla snap.

"God, I can't believe you still fall for that shit," she scoffed once your husband had gone back inside. "Like, seriously, have you ever heard of love bombing?"

Everyone went silent at that.

"He's overprotective," you countered, though you could already start to feel your heart rate start to increase.

"More like he's overcompensating for something," she grumbled, rolling her eyes. "He was a trained assassin back in the day, wasn't he? Surely he'd learned a thing or two about hiding secrets."

"Karla, drop it," Grace, a friend truly close to you, hissed with a sharp glare.

"I'm trying to save her from yet another heartbreak," she argued, before turning to you. "Like we all know how gullible and naïve you can get, a few romantic gestures and you're already blinded. I mean, considering your track record of cheaters, you should already know the signs. I know I see them with how your husband's been doting on you. It's the same thing the asshole did to me."

Your hands shook as you held the glass of water tighter, tears threatening to spill as you gritted, "Bucky is not the same—"

"Jesus, you need to open your eyes!" Karla interrupted. "I never expected you to still be this stupid—"

"That's enough."

Bucky's voice boomed through the air, his looming presence immediately behind you with a protective arm around your waist. Emotions at a high, you didn't even realize you stood up from your seat. You tried catching his gaze, but he was glaring at Karla who had now quieted down, shrinking in her place.

"I don't care about your assumptions about my morals and character because your opinion doesn't matter to me. So say whatever you want to say about me. But the second you disrespect my wife—" Bucky screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, reeling back his anger when he felt your hand on his arm.

Opening his eyes, he turned to look at you. You shook your head, not wanting to make this any bigger. He sighed, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles and then your ring before turning to Karla.

"I love making my wife happy, and she'd been looking forward to this get-together to catch up with friends. But she isn't supposed to be around any kind of stressors during her pregnancy," he said, glare dead set on your so-called friend, voice dropping as he gritted, "So get out of my fucking house."

"Buck—"

"Doctor's orders, my love. I can call her right now if you want." He gave you a sweet, knowing smile. You nodded because you knew there was no point arguing with him. Bucky turned to your friend when she refused to move. "Well? Do you want me to drag you out?"

Karla gaped at everyone, waiting for someone to protest, huffing and puffing when she found no support. It didn't take long for her to gather her things and for the front door to slam shut.

The silence hung in the air for a good minute.

"Good fucking riddance," Grace scoffed, the tension breaking as a chorus of agreement came out from everyone. "I honestly don't get why you still invited her."

"Too kind for her own good," Bucky said, raising his brow at you. You shook your head at him with a soft laugh, squeezing his hand gratefully.

"You're in your guard dog mode again," you teased.

Bucky rolled his eyes, but didn't bother denying it. That only made you grin wider.

"Well, this is supposed to be a girls' thing so I'll leave you ladies to your own devices." He nodded at everyone, giving you a sweet peck on the lips before making his way back into the house, even though you knew he was only going back to his station in the kitchen.

As soon as he was gone, everyone started gushing at you.

"You're so lucky but God you deserve it!"

"Girl, you need to set me up with a friend of his, like surely they're going to be roughly the same, right?"

"Honestly, I'm glad you're getting your happy ever after."

"Does he use that deep voice on you in bed?"

"Oh my god!" you squeaked at the last one, covering your warm face with your palms. When you peeked between your fingers, the girls were all looking at you with expectant grins, brows wriggling. You sighed, "Maybe."

They all erupted into delighted laughs at that, the conversation turning into a slightly salacious turn as they started trading in stories—both good and horrendous—and asking you for some advice on how to keep a guy satisfied or even just to spill the beans on what you and your husband get up to in bed.

Obviously, you didn't kiss and tell—well, not in too much detail. You still couldn't help but sing Bucky's praises. Of course you had to give credit where credit is due.

It was a few moments in when you caught Bucky's gaze in the open window. His wink and that handsome yet smug—his ego inflated that's for sure—smile was enough to tell you that he was listening in like the goddamn nosy super soldier that he was.

You rolled your eyes, yet your joyous smile wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Because to be in reality with James Buchanan Barnes, your husband, the love of your life, was way better than any dream you could ever have.

✫*｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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elliesfavbae · 5 months ago

Text

Summer camps and dead mouses, Part 4

Summer camp with enemy to lovers Ellie Williams.

part 1, part 2, part 3

synopsis: Your so called enemy at the summer camp is totally messing with your head. Once she's the most angry person in the world, the other time she's quiet. You don't know what to think anymore.

pairing: mean!Ellie Williams x reader

wc: 4500???

warnings: use of y/n, swearing obv, usage of alcohol, reader gets slightly drunk, usage of weed, reader gets high, not proofread! lmk if there are any mistakes

Abby? Y/n?” A furious voice suddenly reaches your ears. You and Abby quickly look up, startled, and you instinctively jump away from her.

It's Ellie.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Her voice is loud, and her jaw is clenched, anger visibly coursing through her veins. So now Ellie decides to talk to you? Just great.

“I— What…” You stammer, not sure what to say, but the blonde next to you speaks up before you can continue.

“It’s none of your business, Ellie,” Abby sighs, trying to stay calm. “I thought we’d already talked this through.”

“Yeah, we did, but I also know you're bad news for any girl you touch.” Ellie steps closer, now dangerously near you. Abby and you are still sitting on the bench, but Ellie’s looming presence makes you tense.

“Well, you didn’t have any problem with me flirting with girls a year ago,” Abby retorts, standing up. You follow her movements, standing beside her.

“And what’s up with you anyway?” you finally burst out, unable to hold back. “You hated me when we first met, then you turned into some silent lamb who couldn’t even say a word to me. And now, what? We’re back to square one? Is this some kind of cycle?” The words spill out, and it feels like a weight is lifted off your shoulders. Finally, you’re confronting her.

You study her face closely. Ellie doesn’t speak right away. For a moment, her expression softens, a flicker of sadness in her eyes, but it’s quickly replaced by anger.

“I tried to give you space, that’s why I didn’t talk to you,” she finally says, though it sounds ridiculous coming from her.

“I don’t believe you,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “You love bothering me.”

“Whatever. Mrs. Garcia asked for you.” Ellie dismisses you, focusing on Abby as if she doesn’t even exist. Maybe Mrs. Garcia really does want to talk to you, so you start walking towards the gap in the bushes, the one you came through earlier.

“See you later?” Abby asks, sitting back down on the bench.

“Sure,” you reply quickly, not looking at her anymore. You can’t help but wonder what would have happened if Ellie hadn’t shown up.

“So where’s Mrs. Garcia?” you ask, glancing around but seeing no sign of her. Ellie looks at you, her confusion clear for a split second before she quickly masks it.

“Right… her. Maybe it wasn’t that important after all. I swear she was just here…” That’s when you realize Ellie was lying. Obviously. But why? Did she see you with Abby and decide to intervene? That doesn’t add up, though. Abby mentioned Ellie was fine with her dating other girls last year. Maybe Ellie just doesn’t want to see her “enemy” happy—unless it’s on her terms?

Before you can voice your thoughts, you realize Ellie is already gone. Great. Now she’ll probably do everything she can to make your life hell, just like she did at the beginning.

You head back to your room, sighing as you enter. Olivia is on the bed, animatedly telling the other roommates a story that has them captivated, only occasionally interrupted by a loud “What?!” or “No way!”

That is, until the old wooden floor creaks under your step. Everyone turns to see you.

“Hey Y/n! Where’ve you been? We were just getting to the best part!” someone exclaims.

“I was with Abby…” You clear your throat, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “It wasn’t like that! I mean… we just went to that spot in the bushes—”

“Come here and spill! We need every detail!” someone interrupts, and you walk closer, taking a seat on one of the beds.

“Okay, from the beginning. After dinner, she came up to me, and we started talking—”

“Wait, I didn’t know you liked Abby!” another voice cuts in.

“No, I don’t—it’s not like that, okay?” you say, hiding your face in your hands. “I just… I didn’t realize what she meant when she suggested going into The Bushes. And by the time I did, it was too late; we were already there. She sat closer, touched my hair, and that’s when Ellie barged in—”

“What?!”

“Shh, let her finish,” Olivia says, cutting in.

“Yeah, so Ellie comes in, and she’s pissed as hell, swearing every other word,” you continue. Leah, sitting next to you, looks like she wants to say something but holds back. “But this time, she was furious. She dragged me away from Abby and then just disappeared.”

“Wait, so Ellie ignored you for days, and now she’s jealous whenever you get close to anyone?” someone asks.

“I mean, I don’t think she was jealous…” you mutter, feeling your cheeks flush again.

“Bro, she totally was. I think we’re all thinking the same thing,” Olivia chimes in, glancing around at the others. “It’s obvious she has feelings for either you or Abby.”

“What? No way. The only feeling she has for me is hatred,” you scoff. “And Abby and her are over. Abby dated other girls last year.”

“So how do you explain her behavior?”

“She just doesn’t want her enemy getting close to anyone unless she’s the one in control.”

“It’s not that complicated. Don’t overthink it.”

“Please, I don’t want to hear any more theories,” you groan. You don’t even want to consider the possibility of Ellie having feelings for you. You doubt she’s capable of feeling anything other than hatred.

The girls let the topic drop, and you sigh in relief. Olivia quickly returns to her gossip, and you soon find yourself engrossed in stories about various dramas at the camp, many involving people you didn’t even know existed.

That evening’s activity is a themed dance party, though the theme remains a mystery until the assembly. You’re given some free time to get ready.

“It’s crazy! Only twenty minutes to get ready for a party?!” you all storm into your cabin, rushing to put together the best outfit for the party’s theme—Glow-in-the-Dark.

Well, that doesn’t sound too exciting. You’re told to wear neon-colored clothes—great, like you had any. You settle on an all-white outfit, hoping it’ll reflect the light well enough. You choose a white top and a long white skirt, and Emma from your room helps you with your hair. You finish with light makeup and white eyeliner.

You all assemble again and head toward the sports hall.

“Y/n, aren’t you excited?” Olivia asks when she notices you’re the only one not joining in the conversation.

“I mean… I’d be more excited if I were thirteen,” you chuckle. “I think we’re a bit too old for this.” You love partying, just not when it involves wearing neon and dancing in a sports hall.

“Trust me, the parties here are actually good,” she nudges you playfully. “Come on, you’ll like it!” Her enthusiasm brings a smile to your face.

“You really think so?” you giggle, and Olivia nods. As you approach the hall, you can hear the loud music and see people crowding inside. The windows are covered with something pitch black, adding to the mystery.

Every step closer, the crowd thickens around you.

“Look, they’re giving out glow sticks!” Emma comes up to you, helping you put a few around your wrists and one around your ankle. “Looks cute.”

You finally enter the hall. The first thing you notice is the stuffy air and the floor vibrating from the loud music. People bump into you as you try to move further inside without losing your friends, which is almost impossible in the blacked-out room. The only light comes from glow sticks and the occasional par can or strobe light. The music is blaring.

When you feel you’re far enough in, you let go of your friends and start dancing. You have to admit, Olivia was right. It’s much better than you expected. The darkness gives you the confidence to let loose, and soon you’re jumping and swinging your head along with the beat. After a few minutes, you’re already feeling overheated and decide you need a break. You look around for your friends, but they’re nowhere in sight. You shrug internally and start making your way to the exit.

It takes a good ten minutes of navigating through sweaty bodies before you finally find the door and step outside.

Outside the hall, people are sitting on benches, sipping water from cups and gathering energy for more dancing. You approach a large water cooler, filling a cup. The cold water is a welcome relief.

You spot Emma talking to some girls on a nearby bench and head over to say hi.

“Y/n, hi! Come sit with us!” Emma greets you with a smile. You sit next to a girl in a blue tank top who you don’t recognize. Almost immediately, she rests her head on your shoulder and giggles. You’re a bit surprised until you realize something.

“Has she been drinking?” you whisper to Emma, trying to keep it discreet.

“What do you think is in those cups?” Emma chuckles, offering you a cup. “Have a sip.”

You giggle and take a sip. You flinch as the burning sensation of vodka hits your throat.

“So, you’re just casually drinking vodka with water?” you whisper, smirking.

“Yeah, Jason got us some, but there isn’t much. These cups are all we got… But if you want some, I think Katie has already had enough.” She grabs the cup from the girl in the blue top and hands it to you. “Just… don’t act suspicious, alright? You know, if someone finds out about this, we’re super fucked. I trust you, though.”

To be honest, it sounds quite ridiculous that some Jason brought straight vodka to a summer camp. Fuck it, you down the liquid as fast as possible to avoid the awful taste; you even chug water after, but it’s not the best chaser. You don’t know how much alcohol exactly was in that cup, but after a few minutes, everything starts to sound ten times funnier than before. After a minute of straight-up giggling, Emma tells you to act normal, and you remember now to be careful.

You decide it’s time to go back to the party. You take one of the girls sitting on the bench with you, and you both enter the building. The vibrations from the music hit you again, and you start dancing along with the girl.

You’re swinging your head, and your vision goes blurry. All you see are fast-moving lights from the party or the fluorescent sticks. All of the people are bumping into each other, including you, and one of them pushes you so hard you’re just about to trip when someone’s steady hands land on your waist. You can feel their firm grip, but they don’t let go once you steady yourself, and you take it as a sign to dance with them.

Normally, if you were fully sober, you don’t know if you would’ve done such a thing, but the alcohol has made you much more courageous. You start swaying your hips, your back still facing that person. Their hands start to slightly guide your waist from side to side, to the rhythm of the music.

You feel they got closer, their stomach touches your back, and their head is right behind yours. You don’t even think about what you’re doing anymore. You tilt your head slightly to the side, and you can feel the person’s head leaning into your neck.

They plant a gentle kiss on it; it makes you giggle. Even though the room is filled with the scent of sweat and that typical smell of a fog machine, you can still smell the mysterious person’s scent. It smells like leather, a little earthy too. Is there also a hint of some male perfume? You don’t have time to think about it any longer, though, because before you know it, the person pulls away and takes their hands off your body.

You quickly turn around, trying to spot the person whose body was hugging yours just a second ago, but it’s too dark. You only see dark silhouettes of dancing people combined with the fake fog.

“Who was that?!” someone screams in your ear. You turn around to see it’s the girl from the bench you brought here.

“I have no fucking idea!” you yell loud enough for her to hear through the music and people’s voices. You look at the girl; your faces are very close to each other, close enough to see her facial expressions even through the dim lighting. She looks confused at first, but after a second, she bursts out laughing, and so do you. You keep dancing and brush off any thoughts. Even if you had any left, the music is so loud it would have silenced them all.

Your legs start to hurt again after a while, and eventually, the girl you were dancing with drags you out of the building.

You spend the rest of the evening talking and laughing with your friends. Coming back to your cabin, you can spot many couples cuddling, hiding among the bushes, trying to escape from people's prying eyes. You remember one particular couple. It’s Ellie and some girl. Maybe they’re not cuddling, but the girl is sitting way too close, talking to the auburn-haired girl, and her smile is a little bit too wide for it to be just friendly. But you don’t care, right? You totally don’t care.

Fuck it. Why does Ellie get to flirt with other girls while you can’t even talk to Abby for more than five minutes?

“Hey guys, you can go to the cabin without me; I’ll get there late.”

“Okay, see ya.” One of the guys says as they walk away from you, and you stay in place.

You turn around to see the girl is now brushing a strand of hair behind Ellie’s ear. Just like Abby did to you earlier. Without thinking much, you come closer.

“Ellie,” your voice doesn’t sound too calm, but not really furious either.

Ellie quickly turns her face away and looks at you. “What do you want? I’m busy.” Actually, why are you even here? What did you want to tell her? Suddenly you regret ever speaking up.

“I just- What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Wha-” You don’t let Ellie finish.

“You don’t want to leave me and Abby in peace, meanwhile you’re flirting with some fucking random girl? You’re such a hypocrite.”

“I don’t wanna be dragged into this.” The mentioned ‘fucking random girl’ gets up from the bench and walks away.

“Great! See what you’ve done? You just scared her away!” Ellie looks at you; she’s still sitting on the wooden plank, and you’re standing in front of her.

“You’ve done the same to me and Abby.”

“I told you, the counselor wanted to talk to you…” Ellie’s gaze suddenly avoids yours.

“Bullshit.” You don’t believe any of her excuses. “I know you’re still jealous of Abby. And you’re being such an asshole if you’re flirting with others at the same time.”

Ellie sighs and grabs her nose bridge in frustration. “Me and Abby are done. It’s not about her. And even if it was, it wouldn’t be any of your business, understood?”

“Whatever.” You sigh and walk away, feeling defeated. You can’t help but think of the mistake you just made. Did you really do that for Abby? There’s a specific feeling deep inside of you… It’s so little, almost nonexistent. And it’s not pleasant either. Did you just feel a sting of jealousy seeing Ellie with someone else? A super tiny one, but still. Where did this even come from? After all, you hate her.

Maybe a little part of you subconsciously believed what your friend implied earlier; that Ellie has feelings for you.

No, no fucking way. You quickly push that thought away. You feel disgusted even considering it.

You take a deep breath and open the door to your room. The light is off, everyone already tucked in their beds, all of them exhausted from the dance. You are too, but once you take a shower and tuck yourself under the soft duvet, suddenly you can’t sleep. You’re tossing from side to side.

“Can’t sleep?” You hear a voice from the bed next to you; you almost jump out of your skin. Relax, it’s just Olivia.

“Yeah…” you whisper back. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Sure.” Olivia gets up from her bed, slips her feet into slippers, and you follow her actions. After a second, you find yourself on the balcony outside your room.

“So what is it?” The lighting is poor, the only source of it is the Moon, but you can still see Olivia’s penetrating gaze on you.

“So, well… I told you earlier that Ellie interrupted me and Abby, right?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“So, I just ran into Ellie sitting with some random girl exactly how I was with Abby.”

“What? You mean, like, super close?”

“Exactly, like I swear if I was there a minute later they’d have been already making out.”

“What! That’s actually so hypocritical of Ellie. If I were you, I’d have totally jumped them.” Olivia’s eyes widen in shock, then her expression turns into anger.

“Well, that’s what I did. I called her out, and she got super pissed off.” You sigh at the memory.

“What? She’s impossible…”

“I just wanted to ask… would you have done the same?”

“Call her out? Of course, she’s such a bitch.” Olivia snorts. “Why do you even ask?”

“I don’t know.” Of course, you know. You look at the view from the balcony. The dimly lit trees below you are swinging slightly from side to side due to the wind. From time to time, you can see one of the counselors’ flashlights in the distance.

Maybe you’ve just imagined it. You don’t have a crush on Ellie, and everyone would’ve done the same thing you did. You sigh with relief this time and feel the cold breeze hitting your arms, realizing you’re cold.

“Wanna go back inside?” You ask, and when Olivia nods, you hold the door for her. You silently crawl back into your beds and whisper ‘goodbye’ to each other before falling asleep.

It’s the next day. It starts like every other day here: assembly, breakfast, assembly. When you’re picking the activities for the day, a sharp pain hits your stomach.

Fuck, did you just get your period?

You try to finish the picking as quickly as possible. After you’re done, you almost run to your room. Normally, you wouldn’t be so dramatic, but you wore white pants today.

You lock yourself in the bathroom and… it’s not your period. Alright. Maybe you’ve eaten something bad at breakfast?

Leaving the bathroom, you feel the ache pass; maybe it was just a bad moment. But no more than 5 seconds later, you feel the pain come back twice as strong.

You’re practically writhing in pain, crawling into your bed. When you’re there, the other girls come into the room.

“Hey Y/n. Are you okay?” Olivia comes up to you, concerned.

“Yeah I—my stomach hurts so bad. I don’t think I’ll be able to participate in anything today…”

“Wait, I’ve got painkillers somewhere in here…” Your friend picks up her bag and searches for a while, finally finding what she was looking for and hands you the medicine.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you say with a smile of relief. You take the pill, but it doesn’t work right away, obviously. The first activity is just about to start, but you feel too weak to even get out of bed. You ask your friends to tell the counselor what’s going on instead.

After a while, they leave the room, and you’re left alone with the pain. Fortunately, you feel the pain pill starting to work. One of the counselors even comes in to check on you, but when they realize it’s nothing serious, they let you spend the day in bed and leave you alone.

For the first 20 minutes, you spend in terrible pain, but it gets better with time. You even start to think it’s something serious, but eventually, the pain is gone. The activities have barely started, but you don’t want to join them even though you feel better now; the bed seems too comfortable.

You stay like this for a while, lying with your eyes closed, hoping to take a nap. But after a while, you realize you’re unable to. You carefully get out of bed, slowly, so you don’t bring the ache back. You leave the room, not even knowing where to go. You just wander around the camp. As you’re walking, you notice an entrance to the woods. It’s still on camp’s terrain; somewhere inside, there is a fence, but it still looks like a big area. You realize you’ve never been here since the camp started, so you decide to explore.

You’re following the main path, but it eventually comes to an end, and the forest continues. You start following a trail of trampled grass, wondering where it might lead. A few minutes into your journey, you smell something. It’s a strong herbal scent, a bit pungent.

What the hell? Are you smelling weed? Yeah, it’s definitely it. You swiftly turn around and are ready to walk away, because you never know who’s out here and you doubt anyone from the camp would be smoking deep in the woods, but someone’s words reach your ears.

“Who’s that?” You hear a raspy voice, a bit pretentious too. And you recognize it immediately. You even feel your heart skip a beat, but you tell yourself it’s because the voice took you by surprise, totally no other reason.

“Where are you?”

“Good, you’re not a counselor.” You hear a sigh of relief. You hear the rustle of the bushes and eventually a head sticks out of them. Of course, it’s Ellie. And when she realizes it’s you, her smile drops, but just for a second before she starts giggling.

Oh, she’s definitely high. She grabs your hand and brings you into the bushes. You don’t even have time to react before you’re there, with an old blanket, a string bag on it, a journal, and a half-finished joint.

“What the fuck is this—” “What are you doing here?” You both speak at the same time.

“Well, I was just relaxing a bit,” Ellie says, a smug smirk glued to her lips.

“I can tell.” You sigh and sit down on the blanket.

“So, what are you doing here?”

“I was just wandering around,” That’s the truth.

“I went like super fucking deep into the woods. There’s no way you’re here just because you were walking around.”

“I didn’t even get that far from the main path.” You look at Ellie, but she seems too deep inside her own world, looking at the clouds. “Whatever…” You sigh and look at the journal next to you. You pick it up, and Ellie doesn’t even say a word; she probably hasn’t noticed. You look at the page on top; there’s an unfinished drawing that looks like a female body. Suddenly, the notebook gets ripped out of your hands.

“This belongs to me,” a sharp voice interrupts you, “I was trying to draw… someone, but I think I got too high.” Ellie’s back to that mellow state. “I don’t know, man, this shit’s stronger than I thought.”

“What are you even doing, smoking at the camp?! You know they could kick you out.”

“They could if someone found out, but no one knows.”

“I do know.” A few days ago, you would’ve snitched, but today, something’s holding you back. You look at Ellie, her eyes wide in shock when the power of your words hits her stoned brain.

“So are you telling on me? Kicking me out of the camp?”

You stay silent for a while, thinking.

“Hm…” You want to say no, but first, you want to see how she will react, tease her a little.

“I mean, it would have been a perfect opportunity for you, right? You’d get me kicked out, never see me again, and probably cause me some problems with the law, too. Perfect revenge after I was such an ass.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you look at her, “but I’m not a monster.” You reach for the half-finished joint and put it to your lips.

“Pass me the lighter.” You reach your hand towards her, and she throws you the object. You light the end of the joint and inhale the smoke. You hold it in your lungs for a few seconds before exhaling with a cough.

“Fuck, it is indeed strong.” You’re still coughing, even tears appearing in the corners of your eyes. You take another drag before putting it down. A while passes, and you start to feel it—warmth traveling from your legs, through your stomach, finally arriving at your head. Everything around you starts to feel so much funnier, even Ellie’s face. You start laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Ellie asks with the smug smirk on her face.

“You are.” You’re expecting an outburst of anger, but instead, you meet with a laugh. For a second, you forget about the mutual hatred you’re feeling. But then you remember again.

“You know,” Ellie’s face turns to you, “if you weren’t such a bitch, you could actually be cool.” Fuck. Why are you being so nice? You don’t want to be nice to her.

“If you weren’t such a bitch, I think we could actually get along.” Ellie answers back.

“What? You were the one who started!”

“No, I wasn’t.” She was.

A few minutes of silence pass by as everyone is deep in their thoughts. Suddenly, you feel the wind on your skin; it’s starting to get colder, and you get goosebumps. Ellie notices it too, looks at you, then takes off her hoodie and gives it to you.

“You look cold.”

Wow, it’s the first time she’s done something nice for you. It must be the weed, though. You take the hoodie from her, and as you’re struggling to pull it over your head, you can feel its scent. It smells like it’s been sprayed with a decent amount of male perfume; you smell leather too.

What…

That’s the exact same scent the mysterious person had yesterday when they kissed you at the party.

TAGLIST:

@littlelittlebear

@diddiqueen

@cannyyyyy

@villainousbear

@ivying it wont let me tag u;(

______________________________________________________________

authors note: recently I've faced a family tragedy, I'm leaving tomorrow for 2 weeks and won't be able to write there. So the next chapter is coming in at least 2/3 weeks😓😓

Thank you for all the support I'm getting from you!!! You don't even know how much it means to me<33

#ellie willams x reader #ellie williams #fic #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams fluff #enemies to lovers #Spotify

129 notes · View notes

ode2rin · 2 years ago

Text

by design, you became mine

pairing. mikage reo x gn!reader

genre. fluff & highschool or teenage romance !

warnings/content. 3k+ wc | profanity | mentions of food | timeline is set before blue lock ! | reo and reader is in their sophomore year in highschool | reader is a bit mean to reo (not in an extreme way, just in a normal teenager-y way) and reo is a sore loser in love | and this is me trying the grumpy x sunshine (obv reo) trope ! | half-assed proofread btw | some parts might be ooc reo but it's fine hehe

summary: reo asks you to tutor him after failing an exam in which he oddly looks happy about

“the teacher said i need to be tutored,” a voice tinged with amusement reached your ears.

looking up, you saw reo mikage standing right in front of you, his million-dollar smile lighting up his face, as he held out a math test paper marked with a big, bleeding red ‘F.’

and for someone who had just allegedly received the lowest score possible on such an important exam, he was definitely grinning a little too much.

“and why should that concern me?” you shot back, hoping to hide your indifference.

your annoyance seeped into your words, not meant to sound rude, but you craved some peace during your lunch break. hunger gnawed at your stomach, and this interruption wasn't helping.

he shrugged casually, as if the situation were no big deal. if you had received such a grade, you would not be smiling right now, let alone treat this situation nonchalantly. “well, the teacher did mention i could ask anyone. and since you're undoubtedly one of the smartest in the class, it only makes sense to choose you, right?”

with sarcasm making its way to your tongue and translating to your voice, you retorted, “oh, is that so? do you find me worthy of your esteemed company, young master?”

as the son and sole heir of the mikage corp, reo was trained to be an exceptional conversationalist, and there had been only a few instances when he couldn't form a response right away. this one, however, might be the longest he got a cat to get his tongue. reo feels like he’s having a heartburn from your remark, it’s pathetic.

ever so impatient, you, who only wanted to get back to your lunch, beat him to a reply, saying, “what if i refuse?”

quickly recovering from the unexpected turn of events, reo let out a dramatic gasp, “do you not care about my future? what if i don't graduate on time and can't get a job?”

that must be the most bullshit reason you've ever heard from the heir of a business tycoon. you're pretty sure his future is much clearer than any blue sky. but sure, you can play along.

“fine.”

“really?”

sensing an out-of-place joy in his tone, you raised a brow. was he that thrilled to be tutored?

“i'm sure. now, can i return to my lunch?”

reo's eyes widened a bit as he realized that he was interrupting your meal. hurriedly, he bid you goodbye with a smile.

even with your sarcastic retorts, he walked away, still smiling. his grin was a telltale sign of how much trouble you had just signed up for.

stupid reo and his stupid, handsome smile.

smiling to yourself, you couldn't help but wonder how he managed to receive such a mark in the first place. you had known him since freshman year (it’s hard not to know him), and you knew that the mikage heir was a born genius. so, could this be a mishap? probably. oh well, he couldn't be so difficult to teach.

you’re wrong.

reo mikage is the worst fucking student.

not only does he seem uninterested in your explanations, completely disregarding all the equations you painstakingly lay out for him, but he also has the audacity to stare at you the entire time.

with that shit-eating grin that never leaves his face.

sure, he's cute, but right now, he's nothing more than a damn thorn in your side.

“is there something on my face that bothers you this much, or do you simply have the attention span of a goldfish?” you said, frustration evident in your tone.

“you're just a bad teacher, i think,” he quips, smugness dripping from his words.

“and you're the worst student, i'm sure,” you fire back, refusing to let him have the upper hand.

“well, how about you give me an incentive?” reo suddenly exclaims, his excitement evident in his sparkling purple eyes.

“and now you're asking for more as if you're not already taking up too much of my time?” you reply sarcastically, but your words carry no venom.

“come on! if i get a high mark on the next exam, you'll give me your number!” he eagerly proposes, his enthusiasm contagious.

do all rich kids have the tendency to want mundane things?

“what are you going to do with my number?”

“networking! it's a thing in my world. expanding social circles and all that,” he explains, trying his best to come up with excuses that sound remotely plausible.

reo, well aware of the fact that he can only fabricate bullshit excuses in your presence, hopes he's not being too obvious. unfortunately for him, you see right through it, but it doesn't bother you all that much.

“better show me that A+ then,” you challenge, your expectations clear.

oh, it’s on. he’s going to ace that exam, one way or another. not that it’s actually hard.

mikage: hello y/n! mikage: do you have some notes from the discussion from yesterday? mikage: hello?

so much for networking.

mikage: and they finally read my messages! the crowd cheers!

what led to this moment is, once again, reo mikage standing in front of you, grinning from ear to ear, eagerly holding out an exam paper marked with what seems to be the biggest A+ you've ever seen.

that was three days ago, and sure enough, he got the incentive he asked for. and in those days, you damn sure experienced the ‘networking’ he speaks of with how often he texts you.

you: yeah, let me just take pictures of it to send you. mikage: NO you: ??? are you yelling at me mikage: i mean no, don’t take pictures of it. i’m a visual learner. i have to see your notes in person.

is he fucking serious right now?

you: and what do you suggest we do about that? it’s saturday, we won’t see each other until monday, genius. mikage: how about i’ll come to your house? you: how about you try asking nagi for notes instead?

after sending your last message, you put your phone down despite it continuously buzzing, signaling reo's discontent with your suggestion. you did a commendable job of ignoring him until he grew tired of sending unread messages and decided to call you instead.

“what?” you answered, picking up his persistent call.

“the probability of nagi having notes is lower than the probability of cows flying ten years from now!” he exclaimed, and begrudgingly, you admit he sure does have a point in that.

sighing into the phone, you reply, “you can't come here, it's a bit busy.”

“we'll meet up then! i can pick you up?” reo suggests eagerly. the ‘q’ in reo mikage sure does stand for ‘quitter’.

“do you text and call everyone in your networking circle this much?” you ask, slightly amused.

“what do you mean? we're friends!” he protests.

“did i miss a few pages, young master, or did you get hit in the head with a soccer ball and become a bit delusional?” you tease, unable to resist.

“how about you stop being mean to me?” you could almost hear the pout and the mock hurt in his voice.

you can't, not when you get cute reactions from him in return.

you can't help but find his cute reactions entertaining, and you smile at the phone, even though he can't see it.

“i'll think about it,” you concede.

“okay, you have enough time to think about it while i'm on my way to you! bye, see you in a bit,” he says cheerfully before hanging up.

looking at the phone, you wonder when exactly you agreed to this.

stupid reo and his stupid persistence.

reo is once again in front of you, a scene that has become quite familiar over the course of your friendship.

however, this time you find yourselves in a cozy cafe near your house instead of on the school premises. he’s sitting in front of you, skimming through your notes, probably visually learning, while you sip on the drink he insisted on ordering for you. you gave in, because reo is not a quitter of any sorts. fighting him on the bill is futile and definitely a waste of effort.

“i’ll pay you back,” you state firmly.

“i asked you here, so i should pay,” reo insists.

“i’ll feel bad.”

“if that’s the case, i guess you can treat me next time?” he suggests with a playful smile.

“you practically dragged me here, and you're already talking about a ‘next time’? you're not being slick, reo mikage,” you retort, not letting him get away with his charm.

“a man could try…” he whispers, hiding his face behind your notes, although you can see his neck turning red.

shaking your head, you shift your attention to the busy street outside the cafe. however, your ears catch the faint hum of a familiar song coming from reo. you know that song — it has been stuck in your head since a famous girl group released their album.

unable to contain your amusement, you chuckle, causing reo to look at you with curious eyes.

still smiling brightly, you remark, “didn’t know you're a fan too,” and laugh once more.

reo, on the other hand, feels starstruck.

he made you laugh for the first time, and was it the prettiest sound he ever heard? it sure is. it feels as if his heart beats in harmony with the rhythm of your laughter. it takes his breath away and brings him back to the present, all at once. it's intoxicating in the best possible way.

once he gets home, he's going to memorize the discography of this girl group. nothing will stop him. he will hum every single one of their songs in your presence.

reo would do that and even more if it means hearing you laugh again. this shouldn't be the last time he gets to experience it.

you had fun with reo last saturday.

but right now? you sure don’t.

he’s avoiding you, like a fucking plague. and much to your chagrin, you miss having him around, despite his annoying antics. all with his stupid excuses and stupid grins.

he’s physically avoiding you, but you've noticed him stealing glances at you multiple times during this boring history class, his guilty expression not going unnoticed. it's time to put an end to this charade once and for all.

as soon as the bell rings, you quickly stand up and make your way towards reo before he can leave the classroom. looking around to ensure you're alone, you confront him.

“what’s wrong with you?” you demand.

“what do you mean?” reo feigns innocence.

“you’re avoiding me. you did something, didn’t you? did you spill something on the notes i lent you and you can't bring yourself to tell me?” you accuse, trying to get to the bottom of his strange behavior.

reo wishes it was just that. but it wasn't. it was much worse, to the point that even seishiro nagi called him out on it. and seishiro nagi? a man who couldn't care less about anyone because it's a hassle, calling someone out? you know you messed up if he does.

and reo believes he did.

“you're smiling at your phone too much, ‘s creeping me out,” nagi remarked, looming over reo’s phone.

reo shrugged, trying to hide his excitement. “stop being a hater, nagi.”

curiosity piqued, nagi caught a glimpse of your contact number on the screen. “oh? you finally made a move? about time.”

“i didn’t... they're tutoring me,” reo replied, a hint of sheepishness in his voice.

nagi raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “huh? for?”

“uh, i failed a math exam.”

“you?” nagi chuckled, finding the situation rather amusing.

“okay, fine, the test paper wasn't mine or anyone’s.”

“normally, i won't give a damn, but tell me about it,” nagi said, genuinely interested.

it was an understatement to say that nagi was borderline amused after hearing reo's story, so amused that he had to unintentionally slap reo with the truth.

“basically, you tricked them. should’ve just said that.”

it's safe to assume that nagi's words had struck their way into reo's mind all throughout that day until now.

once again, and perhaps for the last time, reo stood in front of you. but this time, there was no smile on his lips nor a glint in his big purple eyes. he took a deep breath, gathering the courage to confess.

“no, i didn't spill anything on your notes. but i did something to you,” reo admitted, his voice trailing off. seeing your raised eyebrow, he continued, “i tricked you.”

“what?”

"i didn't fail any exam. i didn't need tutoring. no teacher told me to approach anyone. the test paper i showed you wasn't mine. i wasted your time, and i..." reo's voice faltered, barely above a whisper, “... tricked you, because i didn't know how to approach you after having liked you since first year.”

reo panned his eyes to the floor, unable to meet your gaze while his heart sank.

he hasn’t even started yet it's done. he should've come clean. he should've just told you he liked you since freshman year. he should've just asked for your number like a proper man. but he was so fucking shy, unbearable to think of being rejected by you. he could only think of coaxing you to talk to him.

and now his own foolishness was paying the price.

it's over. you and him are done for. he's not going to hear your laughter anymore. he won't ever receive a sarcastic retort again. all those moments of bliss, gone —

“i kinda know.”

what?

reo's eyes widened, and he lifted his gaze to meet yours. how?

“did you forget that the teacher congratulated the class for having good results on the exam you showed me? no one got a score below B+, reo. so imagine my surprise when you came, interrupting my lunch, showing me a paper with an f mark claiming you flunked it.”

god damn it, reo mikage.

it's either you're joking or reo just made the most foolish mistake known to mankind. and none of the former is evident in your face.

he should really pay attention in class, not on your side profile from where he sits across you.

a grave grave mistake. can the ground swallow him whole? or can someone shoot him —

no, actually, wait a damn minute.

it was as if all the clogs in reo's brain got a huge power-up as he realized something so spectacular.

“then why did you not say anything?”

you... from the start, could've just refused him. if you knew the entire time. so why did you agree to tutor him in the first place?

perhaps…? no, reo didn't want to get his hopes up.

he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his nervousness evident in his fidgeting. it was as if he had been caught in a whirlwind of emotions, trying to make sense of it all. the weight of anticipation hung in the air as he waited for your response, his heart pounding in his chest.

and then, you smiled.

you and your stupidly bright smile that feels like a ray of light on a freezing cold skin that reo is having right now.

he really did not want to get his hopes up, but how in the hell would he do that when you just smiled at his question?

“what does that smile mean?”

“well, it means that maybe you're not the only scheming lovesick fool here, pretty boy.”

oh.

you knew it all along that he was scheming his way into your heart.

you knew the entire time.

and you let him.

what the fuck. reo was having a heartburn, literally, figuratively, and madly so. all because of you.

reo snapped out of his thoughts when you waved a hand in his face, vying for his attention. you spoke, “is this everything you’re guilty about? i thought it was something grave. if you told me you spilled something on my notes, i would have started swinging at you, actually.” your laughter filled the room, lightening the tension.

the second time reo made you laugh was because of a scheme that he expected would end whatever beautiful thing you had between you two. not that he’s complaining.

“so you like me back?” reo finally gathered the courage to ask, his voice tinged with hope.

“if we get some food right now, i might answer that coherently. scheming or not, you really do have the habit of interrupting my lunch,” you playfully replied.

“i’d buy you the whole cafeteria if you answer me right now,” reo declared, a touch of desperation in his voice.

the ‘o’ in reo mikage sure stands for ‘overspending’, you’re convinced.

giving in to his request, you took three steps closer to him, barely a foot distance between you. softly, you declared, “yes, reo mikage, i like you too. but i must say, you, making me starve right now, is reducing your chances of being my actual boyfriend.”

“let’s get you some food.” reo said, holding your hand and leading you out of the room like he was on a mission. amused by his sudden swift pace, you let out a laugh.

and suddenly, all tension left reo’s body. his heart once again beat at a normal rhythm. that’s the third time reo made you laugh. surely, it’s one of many more to come.

a minute after walking side by side, you broke the serene silence surrounding you. “not gonna lie, the networking excuse is kind of funny.”

“but it worked. a win is a win,” reo smugly said, showing you your intertwined hands. “see? a win.”

you shook your head at his remarks. your stupid reo and his stupid scheme.

note. hello lovely ppl ! thanks for keeping up w me this far and for following me! as a thanks, here’s a reo fic since i’m missing him so much and emma has been feeding me ideas abt him <3 this is actually the longest i’ve written (i’m so normal abt reo i swear), hope you like it! (btw it goes without saying that this fic, is in fact, another TS inspired hehe love lots!)

𓆩♡𓆪 for one of the best people i met here, @saetorinrin

#☁️ my ode to you #pls take it easy on me #this is my first time writing so much dialogue #than usual #i love reo #i'll give it my best 4 him #mikage reo x reader #mikage reo #mikage reo fluff #mikage reo x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #reo mikage x reader #reo mikage

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cookiesforsigma · 2 years ago

Text

✧Fyodor Centered Headcanons // dating✧

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Pairing: Fyodor Dostoevsky x Gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Comfort

Warnings: none

W/c: 1.5k

A/n: I actually did this in one sitting my body hurts from staying still for so long ahhh also this is my first post and im not a good writer ok. i rly hope Fyodor isn't ooc here

--Fyodor dating headcanons--

1. General + fluff

— I think we all know he's not the most romantic/affectionate lover (though he's so attractive, in your eyes, he's a gentleman).

— Even after you start dating him, Fyodor will still be (cold?) formal to you. He somehow still manages to show his affection towards you in this manner.

— He's softer around you than he is around anybody.

— He prefers giving you attention when you're alone rather than in public.

— He's a bit obsessed with you. Fyodor is so used to getting what he wants, so he has slight yandere tendencies.

— To him, his lover is most precious.

— He lets you wear his ushanka (his hat) and his coat, and he secretly thinks you look adorable dressed like him. He'd never outright admit it, of course.

— Fyodor probably will not make the first move. By that I mean he won’t kiss you unless you kiss him, but that only applies before your first kiss. He does see you staring though.

— He sometimes teases you and acts mean on purpose just to get a reaction out of you. Fyodor thinks you look so cute when you're mad at him and hug a pillow instead of hugging him, but he can't stand being ignored. He'll apologize soon.

— He's extremely observant. He is always able to read you like an open book.

— And don't think he doesn't notice anything you do. Whether it's a small act of affection like brushing your knuckles against his 'by accident', smiling more or less than usual or fidgeting, he notices all of it. Not in a creepy way though.

— Speaking of, he loves small acts of affection. He's almost always holding your hand, he gives you small kisses, and he strokes your hair sometimes.

- - - ♡ - - -

Holding your hand;

— Gosh, he's almost always holding your hand. He especially loves when you intertwine your fingers. He isn't big on physical touch, so this is a great way for him to feel closer to you.

— Sometimes, if he doesn't feel like it, he won't let go of your hand as it is 'such a bother'. Even after your hands become sweaty, you'll have to beg him to let go. Because he won't. (not willingly)

— Fyodor doesn't do a lot of pinky holding. He wants to feel your palms against his. Plus, his hands are always cold because of his anemia, and holding hands properly is the best way to keep him warm (outside of cuddle sessions).

- - - ♡ - - -

Kisses;

— He adores soft kisses. He's also not much of a lip kisser. His favorite places to kiss you are your cheek and forehead (and your hand, on rare occasions).

— He sometimes has bursts of affection, mostly after a long day at work, but they are very small and they don't last very long. It'd hurt his ego if he showed his desperation for your love.

— These small bursts of affection are the moments he gives you kiss attacks.

— Passionate kisses only happen during makeout sessions, which, of course, happen later in the relationship. I'd say it's worth the wait, given that he's an incredibly good kisser and his passionate kisses are so passionate. (obv they are im so stupid.)

— Don't expect him to kiss you first though. Fyodor rarely ever makes the first move.

— But he does notice you staring at his lips, expecting him to kiss you.

— He has a habbit of biting his nails, so it's difficult not to stare.

— And his lips are extremely soft. And warm. Any wait you have to go through, it's worth it.

- - - ♡ - - -

Playing with your hair;

— If you have long hair, he absolutely loves it. It's classic of him to prefer long hair, don't you think?

— If you have short hair, that's fine too. Your hair length does not determine how much he loves you by any means. He just thinks your hair is such a delicate thing about you.

— If you have long hair though, you can expect him to stare. A lot.

— Fyodor loves seeing you with your hair untied, or seeing the different hairstyles you try, even if you just put your hair up lazily, he thinks any hairstyle looks good on you.

— He's not always touching your hair, but it makes him happy when you let him brush it, play with it, or try new hairstyles on you.

— He'll only brush your hair after a shower or if you ask him to, play with it when he feels like it, braid it when he thinks it'll get tangled. He doesn't play with your hair 24/7, as I said, but he's always more than happy to if you ask him.

- - - ♡ - - -

Sitting/laying your head on his lap and vice versa;

— Fyodor doesn't mind if you sit on his lap or lay your head on his thigh while he works. In fact, he actually likes it.

— He'd be a little surprised as he's very touch starved and he'll find it difficult to relax, but he will for your comfort.

— These are the moments he'll run his fingers through your hair and pat your head gently (and awkwardly). But you love the feeling of his hands, there's no way you could ever complain.

— Fyodor will also brush your hair out of your face and maybe kiss your hand, but after you fall asleep.

— He never gets enough rest, which is why you'll just go to sleep on his lap most of the time. But you still get chances to sleep with him.

— He'll let you sleep peacefully if it's a short afternoon nap, but at night he'll snuggle with you after he finishes his work.

— He's too cocky to lay his head on your lap. Again, it'd hurt his ego. So you'd have to ask him to do that.

— Making him sit on your lap is out of the question.

— If you manage to get him to lay his head on your thigh and you want him to do it again sometime, you need to stroke his hair and maybe bend down to give him a kiss.

— Oh God he's definitely doing this again.

— He doesn't like being put in 'vulnerable' positions, but he can't help it when your fingers massage that one spot on his head.

— After the first time he falls asleep on your lap, he won't even bother asking. He'll just sit you down somewhere and tell you he's sleepy, and then wait to be taken care of.

— Of course, this is the kind of thing Fyodor would only do in private, and he'd appreciate it if you didn't try to do this in front of anyone either.

- - - ♡ - - -

Spending time together;

— Fyodor's quite introverted, so he'd prefer an introverted s/o. Even if you're not introverted, as long as you're not loud, he's fine with it.

— The reason I'm mentioning this is because he wants the two of you to be able to enjoy each other's company in silence sometimes.

— He can play his cello for you while you work on something, he can play with your hair while you read a book, or you could cuddle and take a nap.

— Fyodor doesn't always feel the need to hold a conversation to enjoy your presence. He knows you're next to him, and that's enough for him.

- - - ♡ - - - ♡ - - - ♡ - - -

2. Comfort

— Let's be honest now... He sucks at comforting people. (how am i going to write this..)

— He's never dealt with anyone crying before, let alone a person he cares about.

— The difference between a crying person and a crying person he cares about is that he's scared of hurting the feelings of the person he cares about. (makes sense? no.)

— Fyodor won't struggle to comfort you as long as you're not crying. He'll buy you food if you want, he'll play chess/card games with you, he'll play his cello for you, he'll give you his hat... He will just do this best to cheer you up.

— But he's aware that if you start crying, cheering you up is not the right solution. He's going to try to hold you and let you cry in his arms.

— He won't talk much. He really wouldn't know what to say in situations like these.

— There's a chance he'll complain about you getting his clothes wet...? I'm so sorry but it sounds like something he'd do. Not always though.

— He cares about you, but he doesn't feel the need to remind you, as it'd make him feel awkward and he knows you're aware of that already.

— Fyodor is still going to hold you for as long as you need.

— He'll ask you what the matter is, and he'll be fine with it if you don't want to answer. He'll probably make you a drink or try to cheer you up once you've stopped crying.

— He'll hold you some more if needed.

— If you do decide to tell him what's bothering you, he might think it's not worth crying over. Depends if it's an insecurity or someone's death.

— If it is an insecurity Fyodor will give you some praise and compliments, but again, 'it's a pathetic reason to cry'.

— He's not good at giving advice if that's what you need.

— But he'll listen and hold you, even if he doesn't openly admit he cares for you as much as he really does.

- - - ♡ - - - ♡ - - - ♡ - - -

#bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd fyodor x reader #fyodor x you #bsd fluff #bsd anime #bungou stray dogs #bsd fyodor #fyodor bsd #fyodor fluff #fyodor headcanons #fyodor x reader #god he is so hot #fyodor hcs #bungo stray dogs fyodor #fyodor bungou stray dogs #he’s so bbygirl

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elizabethwritesmen · 1 year ago

Text

i don’t want you like a best friend

┏ •◦இ•◦ ┓

Pairing: College!Steve Harrington x Reader ALSO Ghostface!Steve x Witch!Reader (costumes)

Summary: You’re in Indiana for college. You just happen to be roommates with Steve Harrington’s best friend, Robin. This is a list of the times you bumped into him, starting with July move in day and ending with a friend’s Halloween party.

Warnings/Notes (PLEASE READ) : SMUT 18+, pining, friends to lovers, Robin being intrusive, Robin’s parents also being intrusive, angst, Halloween if ur into that, ghostface!Steve x Witch!reader (costumes obv), also if ur name is Grace this isn’t the fic for you just trust me on this, this is semi-modern I don’t mention time periods at all but I also made no attempt at historical accuracy so do with that what u will. it’s all make believe it doesn’t rlly matter imo. also this is a college au so I made up college friends for them! ALSO i have plans for another halloween fic, a super spooky super sexy one, but it will go up late prob sometime in late. november because i’ve put all my energy into this one and staying alive lol. enjoy! <3

┗ •◦இ•◦ ┛

•Move In Day

I stared blankly at the boxes in front of me. The U-Haul I’d rented was jam packed with furniture and all of my belongings, leaving barely enough room to breathe.

For some reason, I thought it would be easy. I thought I could girl-boss it, get it done, all in a few hours’ work. Clearly I was temporarily insane when I came to that conclusion. Oh, well. Now I didn’t have a choice.

I sucked in a deep breath before resigning myself to my fate and starting.

I carried in the lightest stuff first, wanting to get it out of the way. I figured once I got through all the heavy stuff, I wouldn’t have any energy left for it, so might as well do it first. I got about four boxes upstairs, and I was bringing up a fifth and sixth, when I noticed the door already opened. I was sure I had shut it.

I walked in to see a girl and a guy, both around my age. She was dancing around, placing boxes of her own on the other side of the room. I cleared my throat gently, placing my boxes on the rest of my things.

She snapped out of her trance and her eyes landed on me. As did those of the guy she was with.

“Oh, hi!” She smiled brightly, “You just be my roommate!”

“Must be,” I sent her a polite smile in return, but mine was a lot more shy and reserved, “I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Robin, and this is my best friend Steve,” she introduced, “He’s helping me get all my things up here.”

“Oh, nice to meet you both. Let me know if I can help with anything!” I offered.

“Oh no, that’s fine, I’m sure you have your hands full! Are your parents here helping you?”

“No, just me. I’m new here, so… I don’t really have anyone,” I shrugged, preparing to head back downstairs when she stopped me.

“Hey, wait!”

I turned around, staring at her expectantly, eager to get back to carrying my boxes upstairs. I didn’t want to be rude, but.. there were so many.

“My parents will be here soon to help me, so why don’t you steal Steve?”

“Oh,” I stuttered, looking to Steve, “I couldn’t ask you to help me. Really, it’s fine, I can get it.”

“It’s no trouble,” he shrugged, “I’d like to. I’d hate for you to have to carry everything up by yourself. Besides, any roommate of Robin’s is a friend of mine.”

I breathed out a little chuckle and nodded, “If you insist.”

He followed me to the elevator, pressing the button for me and walking on after me. I expected awkward silence but there was none, he didn’t allow a single lull between his questions. He wanted to know everything, where I was from, what made me choose the school, what kinds of things I was into.

“Do you go here, too?” I asked him as we approached the U-Haul.

“Yes, I moved in yesterday. Robin helped me get everything to my dorm, but I’m on the first floor, so it was super easy. I figured I should help her anyway, though, even though she doesn’t need it.”

“She might not need it, but extra help is always appreciated. Or any help.”

“Is that your way of thanking me for helping you?”

“Well, it was either that or bake you a cake and there isn’t an oven in the dorm.”

“Raincheck on the cake, then,” he chuckled.

We talked the entire way back up, and I was shocked at how easy it came. I didn’t expect to click so well with him, and I silently prayed it’d be the same with Robin.

“There you two are,” she smiled as we walked back in, “Did he talk your ear off?”

“No,” I shrugged, “He talked the normal amount.”

“Yeah, the normal amount for a 6 year old on a road trip.”

Their dynamic was nice. They picked on each other, sure, but it was all friendly.

On the second trip down, Steve told me about his life. His high school experience, his hobbies, his hair. His friendship with Robin. I couldn’t tell whether or not there was something more than friendship there. I couldn’t help the small part of me that hoped not, Steve was really handsome and the nicest person I’d met in a while. But I definitely didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, and I was much too shy to ask. Besides, a guy like him probably wouldn’t want anything to do with me anyway.

By the time we got back up to the dorm, Robin’s parents were there.

“Oh hello,” her mom smiled, “You must be the roommate! Y/N, right?”

“Yes ma’am,” I responded.

“Well I’m Robin’s mom, Melissa, and this is her Dad, Richard. It’s so nice to meet you! Oh, you’re just so pretty!”

“Thank you,” I grinned, a little overwhelmed with how nice the woman was being. She was pretty, much like Robin, and she’d aged well. But she also had a warmth about her that was comforting, welcoming even.

An hour later, they had all of Robin’s things up and unpacked. They didn’t even ask if I wanted help finishing up, they just got to work, carrying the last of my things up with Steve and beginning to open boxes.

“You guys really don’t have to do all this,” I mumbled, sheepishly. I always felt awful accepting help, overwhelmed with gratefulness to the point of guilt.

“Oh, hush!” her mom laughed, “We want to!”

It only took another hour to have everything in its place, and we all stared proudly at our handiwork.

“Thank you all so much for your help,” I smiled at the group.

“Of course!” Mr. Buckley patted me on the back, his grin charming, “And if you ever need anything else, you call us! Now, how about we all go get something to eat? I think we’ve worked up enough of an appetite!”

I at first assumed I wasn’t invited because, well, it’s Robin’s family and Steve has apparently been her best friend for years so he’s basically family too. I was new in all this and definitely didn’t expect to be having dinner with all of them. But when they all walked towards the door and I hung back, everyone turned to me, matching confusion on their faces.

“Come on,” Robin chuckled, “You think we’re gonna let you starve after all the work we just did?”

And just like that, we all piled into Mrs. Buckley’s car. I was squished in the middle between Robin and Steve. I wanted to give her the middle because she was so small, but she told me she would feel carsick from Steve’s cologne and she’d rather have the window seat.

“What’re you kids in the mood for?” Mrs Buckley asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve responded, and Robin and I agreed.

“I think there’s a barbecue joint a few miles down the road, let’s stop there,” Mr Buckley decided, turning to the back seat, “I know Robin and Steve like that, but is it okay with you, Y/N?”

“Of course,” I nodded, still shocked to be included in the dynamic.

Mrs Buckley almost missed the driveway to the restaurant and she slammed on her brakes and turned in at the last second, throwing me gracelessly into Steve, my seatbelt the only thing keeping me off his lap. He caught me swiftly as he himself hit the door, making sure I didn’t hurt myself in the commotion.

I risked a glance at him to see his eyes peering into mine, concerned and a bit discombobulated from the startle of it all.

“You okay?” he asked, and I nodded, staring down at his arm that was still around me. He cleared his throat, setting me upright in my seat as we pulled into a parking spot.

I turned to Robin, taking note of the huge smirk on her face. She was looking past me, eyes on Steve. Must’ve been some kind of inside joke I wasn’t part of yet.

We all walked inside together, and the hostess sat us at a booth, pulling an extra chair up to the end of it. I went to sit in it when Robin stopped me.

“Remember what I said about Steve’s cologne? And I get claustrophobic. You’d better sit by him, I’ll take the extra chair.”

I nodded slightly, sliding into the booth and letting Steve slide in beside me. I didn’t understand what the big deal was about his cologne, it wasn’t that strong. It was subtle but sweet, cinnamon overwhelming my senses and filling me with a warmth and comfort I craved. The kind of cologne that, when someone passes you wearing it, you stop and take a deep breath in, soak it up for all it’s worth.

Robin’s mom and dad, and Robin herself, were all giving Steve that strange smirk now, and I suddenly felt left out. I guess they were all in on the joke. Unlucky me.

We made small talk while we looked over the menus, picking what we wanted to eat.

“What’re you gonna get?” Steve asked, and I had to look up to realize his question was just for me. Robin and her parents were talking amongst themselves, completely ignoring us.

“I don’t know, probably just chicken fingers. I’m picky when I try new places.”

“Lame,” he tapped me in the ribs and joked, and I squirmed against his touch.

“It’s not lame! It’s a classic!”

“Let me guess, macaroni on the side?” he raised a brow, and I stared sheepishly at my lap, causing him to chuckle, “You’re pretty predictable, Grace.”

“That’s not my name,” I furrowed my brows at him.

“It’s a nickname. You know, Grace. ‘Cause you fell on me in the car. It’s irony.”

“Giving me nicknames already? My, how our friendship is growing,” I rolled my eyes, “If only it wasn’t such a rude one.”

“You can give me a rude one, too,” he offered, and I thought it over for a moment.

“Okay,” I nodded, “Box Boy.”

“Box Boy?”

“Yeah, cause you brought in all my boxes.”

“That’s the best you got?”

“It probably won’t stick, but I like it for now.”

“What’re you two whispering about?” Robin cut into our conversation, wiggling her eyebrows at us.

“It’s a secret, that’s why we’re whispering,” Steve deadpanned, and she snorted.

“Well, you two keep your secrets, and we’ll keep ours.”

“Fine by me, I have a feeling your secrets are pretty dark.”

I stifled a laugh, taking a long sip of my soda.

The rest of the dinner was full of happy chatting and getting to know each other. It turns out I got along really well with all of them, and I integrated well into the little group.

“You know, Y/N, I’m really happy you agreed to come eat with us,” Mrs Buckley told me as her husband handled the check.

“I’m just thankful you invited me! And paid for my food. Really, you didn’t have to!”

“Now stop with the bashfulness, you’re basically family now!”

With that, everyone stood. Steve helped me out of the booth and held the door open for me on the way out. It was sweet, in an old time kind of way. I fought off butterflies, and a crush that I felt coming a mile away.

Robin’s family dropped us off, and we stood outside talking for a few minutes.

“I’m gonna go inside and crash, but you two kids say your goodbyes,” she waved her hands at us and walked away, leaving us in silence.

“So…” I started.

“So…” he repeated.

“It was nice to meet you,” I offered.

“You, too.”

“Maybe I’ll see you again.”

“Hopefully.”

“Soon.”

“Yeah.”

I paused, not knowing what else to say. He was making no move to ask for my number, of course he probably wasn’t even interested like that anyway.

“Goodnight,” I smiled.

“Goodnight,” he repeated.

He stood for a moment and I stayed there, waiting for him to leave.

“I’m not going anywhere until I see you get inside safe.”

I giggled, “Yes sir.” And with that, I walked in.

The elevator ride to the fifth floor was long, but finally I was approaching my door, and I walked through it sleepily. I collapsed onto my bed, trying to ignore Robin’s staring.

“So…” she sighed, “You and Steve, huh?”

“Me and Steve what?”

“You guys have got it going on!”

“Have what going on?”

“Oh my God, Y/N, seriously, the sparks could’ve lit a cigarette. Did you give him your number?”

“He didn’t ask,” I shrugged, “Besides. I thought you guys were a thing.”

“I’m into chicks,” she rolled her eyes, “And even if I wasn’t, I still don’t know why you’d think that. I forced you to sit beside him the entire day. You think his cologne really bothers me that much? NO. I wanted you guys to… you know…. hit it off!!”

“Well, I think he’s a little out of my league,” I shrugged, sinking further into my sheets sadly.

“He absolutely is not. And I promise he’s into you. He’s just not the best with girls is all. He’ll have your number soon enough.”

“You’re not planning on giving it to him, right?”

“What? No! I’m gonna make the little shit ask you himself!”

“If he ever does.”

“He will.”

•First Day of Class

I walked into the lecture hall, brows furrowed, trying to make sure I was where I was supposed to be. Yes, room 208, I concluded.

It was a large room, but it wasn’t completely full. There were only about 20-30 people there total. I, of course, didn’t recognize any of them, so I took a seat away from everyone else. Nobody even spared me a glance, and I felt comfortable in my solitude, until the heavy door opened and shut behind me and a figure looked over me.

I looked up to see Steve, just as handsome as the first time I saw him. He was wearing a pair of joggers and a yellow sweatshirt, and he pulled off the comfy look well.

“Why are you sitting over here all alone?” he asked, one perfect eyebrow raised.

“I don’t know anyone,” I shrugged, and he scoffed.

“Well come sit by me and the guys from my dorm. I’ll introduce you.”

“I think I’d rather stay here.”

“Really?” I nodded slowly, “Then you leave me no choice.” He plopped down in the chair beside me, setting his things down and getting comfortable.

“What’re you doing?” I asked him.

“Well I’m not just gonna let you sit all alone.”

“But I like being alone,” I huffed, “Plus your friends miss you!” I gestured to the three guys staring holes through us.

He glanced in their direction and nodded, and that’s all it took for them to pile over to us.

“Stevie! My man! You gonna introduce us to your lovely friend?” One of them asked as he took the seat in front of us. He held his hand out for me to shake and I took it carefully, sighing.

“This is Grace.“

“That’s not my name!” I groaned.

“Then what is your name?” the tallest of the guys asked.

“Y/N.”

“Cute,” he winked at me, and Steve rolled his eyes sharply. “Y/N, this is Tate, Drew and Johnny.”

They all greeted me kindly and I responded in turn, but there wasn’t much time to talk before an older man walked in, an air of authority in his step.

“Hello, all. I’m Professor Chomsky, I’ll be teaching this course,” he began. What followed was a list of rules, regulations, class schedules, and lesson plans dull enough to make my forehead hit the desk in front of me.

“This is awful,” Steve whispered beside me, and the other guys nodded, “Another hour of his voice might kill me.”

“Shh!” I hissed at him, trying my best to focus on what the man at the front of the room was saying.

“Oh, get off it,” Steve smirked, “You’re just as bored as we are.”

“I’ll have you know I’m absolutely riveted!”

“Lying isn’t a good look, Grace.”

Just then, Tate chimed in, “Why do you call her Grace anyway if her name is Y/N?”

“It’s an inside thing,” Steve waved him off, “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Yeah, because calling me ‘Grace’ to make fun of me for being clumsy is such a hard joke to understand.”

“I don’t like your attitude today, Grace,” he furrowed his brows dramatically, and I couldn’t help giggling.

We were all interrupted by the sound of Professor Chomsky’s voice, booming at us to be quiet. We obeyed, whispering quietly every now and then but mostly hanging on by a thread to his monotonous words.

The class ended about a half hour later and Steve and I went our separate ways. We ended up having one more class together, and the guys were all in there, too, plus Drew’s girlfriend Natalie and Johnny’s sister Elaine. Robin as well. It was the most fun of all of them. It also happened to be my last class of the day. As it wrapped up and we all packed up our things, Steve stopped in front of my chair.

“Can I walk you back to your dorm?” he asked me.

“Sure,” I nodded with a smile, throwing my bag over my shoulder and following him out.

We chatted on the five minute walk. I found that I didn’t want it to end, but I hoped when it did, he would ask for my number. Or something, at least, to make me think he was interested. Part of me knew he wasn’t, though. Not as more than a friend.

“Here we are,” I sighed as we approached the doors.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “So… umm.. I’m happy we have those classes together. It’ll be nice to hangout every week.”

“Yeah, and we seem to have a good little group going. I like everyone a lot.”

“Everyone likes you a lot, too.”

I swayed on my toes, staring at him, waiting patiently. For what, I wasn’t sure.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow?” he proclaimed, his voice chipper. I nodded slowly. “You know the drill, I can’t leave until you’re inside safe.”

I rolled my eyes and gave him a dopey grin, walking in just as I had the last time.

• Hangout at Elaine’s Apartment

Days of hanging out with Steve in class passed slowly, and I soaked in every moment. I was trying desperately to keep what I felt at bay, but it proved difficult when he wanted to walk me home every day.

A month went by and it was Saturday. I woke up around noon, the week had been especially exhausting, and immediately started studying. Robin did the same, sitting at her desk beside me and rifling through her flash cards.

“How is it that he’s walked you home every single day and still not asked for your number?” she asked out of nowhere.

“Robin, we’re talking about biochem. Not Steve.”

“Believe me, Steve is a scientific anomaly, so it’s close enough.”

I rolled my eyes, “I don’t know, okay? It’s like I wait for him to make a move or something every day, but he never does.”

“Well isn’t there anything between you both? All the rest of us can see it!”

“There’s chemistry, or at least I thought there was, but now I’m sure it was just one sided. He’s just not into me like that.”

“Then why does he walk you home every single day and not me?”

“Well… you have another class after that so you couldn’t walk with us, and he probably just doesn’t want to walk that far twice a day.”

“You’re grasping at straws. The boy wants you.”

“Why are you so invested, anyway? It’s not that serious, Rob. We’re just friends, that’s fine with me.”

“I just…” she started, trying to form her words correctly, “Steve has never been good with girls. He had one girlfriend, in high school. She wasn’t the best. I mean, she was fine, and he was happy, but she hurt him and he.. well, the details don’t matter but anyway. He never really had luck with any other girls. He was always too caught up in something else. But now we’re out of that town and you can’t convince me that your coming into our lives was a coincidence. Steve deserves this, and I want him to have it. If he can just get out of his own way.”

“And if he can’t?”

“He will. Believe me. It’s just gonna take a big push.”

“I’d rather just be his friend than stress myself over it,” I shrugged, going back to my studying.

A couple hours later, Robin got a text from Steve telling her that everyone was hanging out at Elaine’s apartment and we should come.

“Wanna go?” she asked me.

“I don’t know, I have a lot of studying left to do,” I hesitated.

“I was only asking to be polite. We’re going,” she stated, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my closet. “And you’re not wearing those wrinkly old jeans and a baggy t shirt. Pick something cute.”

“I’m not really a ‘cute clothes’ girl.”

“Well, tonight, you are.” She looked through my closet, pulling out a yellow sundress I stole from my mom’s closet at some point in time. I had to admit, it was a beautiful dress.

“You’ll wear this with your white sneakers,” she instructed, leaving no room for argument so I just nodded. “Steve won’t know what hit him!”

“Honestly, he’s probably into Elaine.”

“Why do you think that?”

“She’s… well, she’s older. She’s smart, and beautiful, and she always dresses to impress. She’s just.. she’s got everything.”

“Yeah, that’s why I have a crush on her. But I promise Steve doesn’t.”

“Whatever you say.”

Before long, it was time to get ready. I put on a little makeup, just some mascara, blush, and lip gloss, and paired gold hoops and a gold charm bracelet with the dress, slipping on my sneakers and following Robin out the door.

We were supposed to meet Steve outside of his dorm. The plan was for him to drive us to Elaine’s. As we approached the parking lot, we saw him leaning against the driver’s door of his car. Elaine was right in front of him, and they were locked in what seemed like a deep conversation.

“What’s that all about?” Robin asked as we took a step or two closer. I stopped in my tracks, though, when Elaine leaned up and kissed him square on his lips.

My heart shattered into about a million pieces. It’s crazy how you never know how intense your feelings for someone are until they blow up in your face. Sure, it hadn’t been long since I met him, but everyone has had a crush that spiraled out of control way too quickly.

“Hey, love birds?” Robin called out, her voice accusing.

They broke apart, startled, and stared at us dumbly. No doubt Steve saw the hurt on my face, but I tried so hard to keep it at bay.

“Grace,” he started, making a move to walk over to me, but the scene was interrupted by the other 3 guys joining us.

“Okay, so how’s this gonna work?” Tate blurted as they approached, “I know Y/N and Steve always have to sit by each other, And Natalie will be on Drew’s lap in the back, so I’m assuming Robin is gonna squeeze in the back with us?”

“I’d rather ride on the hood,” she croaked.

“It’s fine,” I sighed, “I’ll ride in the back with you guys, Robin can sit up front.”

“Well, someone can ride with me,” Elaine offered, “And you’ll just have to ride uncomfortably on the way back instead of both ways?”

“I will,” Natalie offered, “Wanna join me, Drew? That way there’s room in Steve’s car for everyone?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, following her to Elaine’s vehicle.

“I still wanna sit in the back,” I shrugged, climbing into the middle and letting both boys climb on either side of me.

Steve stared into the car at me for a moment, fists clenched, before climbing in behind the wheel and pulling off.

The ride had the potential to be awkward, and if it wasn’t for Johnny and Tate, it would’ve been. They lightened the mood a lot. Between their jokes and banter, I felt comfortable a couple minutes in. It was only a ten minute drive, and it went by extra quick with them.

As Steve pulled in, the car lurched to the side and threw me onto Tate.

“Woah there, I see why Steve calls you Grace now,” he laughed as he helped me up. The spark I felt when it happened with Steve wasn’t there, but Steve didn’t know that, and he sent us a death glare through the rear view mirror.

Elaine pulled in right after us and lead us up a flight of stairs to an isolate apartment, quite large. It was a one bedroom two bathroom, but every room was huge.

“Mi casa es su casa,” she sighed as we walked in. “I’ve got drinks, card games, books to study, and lots of movies. Whatever you guys are into!”

“Let’s starts out with the drinks,” Johnny suggested, and everyone nodded.

Moments later, we all had a beer in our hands. Elaine suggested we save the liquor for after, and we agreed. We also all collectively decided we would play Cards Against Humanity until we were tipsy, and then we would watch a horrible movie together.

Music played from the radio in the background as we all settled into our spots for the night. Drew and Natalie on the bean bag chair, Johnny Tate and Robin piled onto the couch, and Elaine cozy in her recliner. That left only the loveseat for Steve and I, and I fought a scowl.

“Scoot over, Rob,” I gestured, but she refused.

“I wanna stretch out and be comfy! There’s plenty of room on the love seat!”

I rolled my eyes and flipped her off, walking begrudgingly to Steve and plopping down beside him.

“Is sitting by me really that bad of a thing?” he asked, and everyone stared at me, waiting for an answer.

“No, it’s fine. It’s just.. Robin was right. Your cologne is a lot.”

He almost looked hurt, but he shook it off as we started the game.

A few rounds in, Steve leaned back in his seat, accidentally shifting himself closer to me. I stared down at his leg, almost touching mine.

“You look nice tonight,” he mumbled so nobody but me could hear, “I’ve never seen you in something so… delicate before.”

“If you’re gonna compliment someone, it should be your girlfriend,” I shrugged off what he’d said and took a long swig of my beer.

“Girlfriend?” he furrowed his brows.

“You know. The girl you kissed.”

“Oh.” He stared at his lap. “Listen, Grace, that wasn’t -“

“I don’t want to hear it,” I shrugged, “Doesn’t matter to me. You guys are super cute together, I’m real happy for you.”

He looked taken aback but my tone told him he should let it go, and he did, taking a swig of his own beer and leaving me alone for the moment. The moment didn’t last long, though, because before long everyone was a little intoxicated from all the alcohol and his arm was resting on my shoulders. I couldn’t fight the way I fell into him, I could barely even fight the sleep.

“Movie time!” Elaine exclaimed, jumping up to find her favorite DVD. She picked a cheesy old scary movie that barely made sense, and we were all more than happy with it. Nobody wants to watch a good movie while they’re drunk. She settled back in as it began, munching on the snacks she’d brought out for everyone.

“Please talk to me,” Steve mumbled into my hair.

“Don’t want to,” I slurred out, closing my eyes and breathing him in. My actions didn’t match up with my words and I knew that, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Well then come here,” he sighed, grabbing me under my knees and pulling me into his lap. He rested me against his chest, holding me snugly, letting me get as cozy in him as I wanted. “Talk to me when you’re ready.”

If I’d been sober, I would’ve worried about cuddling with Elaine’s boyfriend right in front of her, but I wasn’t. I did spare her a glance, though, and she smiled at me. Strange. She didn’t seem to care at all.

“Shouldn’t you be snuggling with Elaine over there?” I whispered to him, my face nestled in the crook of his neck.

He pulled a blanket from beside the armrest and tucked it over me as he responded, “Let’s talk when we’re sober.”

“Wan’ talk now,” I hummed.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Grace. The closest thing I have to a girlfriend is you.”

“But y’kissed her and you never kissed me,” I pouted. I don’t know whether my attitude came from sleepy delirium or intoxication.

“You’re right,” he nodded, leaving it at that.

“Y’could if you wanted to,” I breathed out as I drifted off into sleep.

I woke up in the passenger seat of the car. Robin was driving, and I looked around frantically for Steve before realizing I was in his lap.

“Oh, hi,” I mumbled.

“Morning, sunshine,” he smiled, “Go back to sleep. I’ll make sure you get in bed safe.”

“I don’t wanna go back to sleep,” I whined, leaning up.

I glanced in the back seat. Johnny was on one side, half asleep leaning on the window. Tate was in the middle, texting someone, and Drew was on the other side with Natalie passed out on his lap.

“Why’s Robin driving?” I asked curiously.

“He didn’t want you sleeping on anyone else,” she smirked at us.

“Oh,” I didn’t know what else to say to that.

He ran his hand through my hair, playing with the strands, twisting them between his fingers.

“That feels good,” I hummed, leaning into his touch.

“Yeah?” he asked as he kept going, tugging the strands a little harder.

“Mmhmm.”

“Get a room,” Tate coughed from his spot in the back, and we all giggled.

Finally, Robin pulled into the parking lot of our dorms.

“Come on,” Steve sighed, opening the car door and helping me out. His hand stayed at the small of my back as he walked me to the door, steadying me when I swayed slightly.

“I’m gonna have the worst headache tomorrow,” I whined.

“Probably,” he laughed, helping me up the stairs.

Robin cleared her throat, “I’m gonna go upstairs and let you guys… talk.” We nodded and watched her go, then turned back to each other.

“I should probably go up, too,” I mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Okay,” he nodded, but he didn’t let go of me. “I want to talk to you about -“

“I don’t want to talk about Elaine, Steve. Just go.”

“But-“

“No. I’m still drunk and I’m tired and my heart can’t take much more tonight so please just go and we’ll talk about it another time.”

“Grace,” he started, and I could tell he was frustrated, but I was too. It sucked walking up on him lip locking someone else. I didn’t want to listen or get over it yet. Any explanation he had wouldn’t be good enough for me, after all, what excuse is there to kiss another girl if he liked me? The only explanation was that he wasn’t into me, and he was trying to let me down easy. Or trying to have both.

“Stop,” I put my hand on his chest and pushed him away slightly, “I said another time. Please go.”

He watched me for a few seconds, waiting for me to change my mind, but I didn’t. I wanted him to go. For the first time, I wasn’t lingering or giving him that look like he could kiss me if he wanted to.

“Okay. Just take my number in case you need anything tonight.”

I nodded slowly, handing him my phone. He inputted the digits and handed it back, then let me walk inside in peace. I made it all the way upstairs before finally freeing my emotions, and the alcohol in my system caused them to spill out of my eyes.

“Oh, Y/N,” Robin sighed, walking over to sit by me.

“I am so over Steve Harrington,” I huffed.

“You didn’t even hear him out?”

“It doesn’t matter what he says, it’s not gonna wipe the image of them kissing out of my head.”

She nodded, staying up with me a little longer before we both nodded off.

The next morning, I woke up to a message from Steve. Apparently he’d called himself from my phone so he’d have my number too.

Good morning. Just checking on you. You feel okay?

I read it over and over before turning the phone off, deciding not to respond. I could feel my head pounding and I couldn’t take extra stress.

I got up, preparing to go get some water from the vending machine, but when I opened the door I saw a convenience store bag on the outside handle. I opened it to see advil, water, and powerade, along with a note scribbled on the receipt.

“Figured you might need this.

Let me know if you need anything else.

Steve.”

My heart grew as I paced back in the room, sitting on my bed. I texted him to thank him, then fell back to sleep with medicine and hydration in my system.

• The Next Class

I ignored Steve for the rest of that day. I suppose seeing him kiss someone else made the walls build up around my heart, but all I knew for sure was that he couldn’t get through anymore. Of course, I was still a bit sad. I liked Steve a lot, but we were better off as friends.

I walked to class the next morning, running a minute or two late but I knew Professor Chomsky wouldn’t care much. When I walked in, Steve and the guys were in their usual seats, and I took mine right in the center of them.

“Morning, Grace,” Steve absolutely beamed at me. I grinned tightly and politely in return, and pulled out my books, not bothering to respond. It probably seemed a little rude, but to me, it was what I had to do. “You gonna keep ignoring me? I screwed up that bad?”

I glanced over at him, “You didn’t screw up at all. We’re friends, Steve. I’m happy when you’re happy and if you’re happy with Elaine then I hope you guys work out.”

“Saturday night you were practically crying, and now you’re giving me your blessing and saying you want me to date her?”

“I was drunk. I’m not anymore, and yes, I want you to be with her. I’m sure she’s a great girlfriend. Just what you deserve.”

“Unbelievable,” he scoffed, “You really just want to be friends?”

“Yes,” I nodded curtly, turning to my books.

The other guys were looking at us curiously, like we were a soap opera playing right in front of them. They looked even more astounded when I walked out at the end of class without waiting for Steve. I felt horrible. He was the sweetest guy in the world. But clearly he liked Elaine more, seeing as she’s the one he made a move on, and I wasn’t going to stand in their way. I was sure it would get easier with time.

The next class I had with him went similarly. He tried to talk to me, and I brushed him off. I didn’t ignore him, I just didn’t entertain him, and I could tell it drove him nuts.

I could feel Elaine watching us, watching him. She must’ve been wondering why he was so wrapped up in me instead of talking to her. I was wondering that myself, but I let it go.

“Are you ever going to forgive him?” Robin asked as we walked out.

“I already did. It’s just not the same. I dunno,” I shrugged.

“I think you should hear him out. He’s bound to have an explanation for that kiss.”

“Even if he does, I don’t want to hear it, Rob. It happened and even if I decided to go back to how it used to be, I’d still see him kissing her in my brain every time he got close to me.”

“I understand,” she nodded, and we parted ways as she headed off to her next class. I, however, set off for my dorm.

“Grace!” I heard from behind me, and I sighed, knowing only one person called me that.

I turned around to see him sprinting to me, “I’m not letting you walk home alone.”

“Steve,” I sighed.

“No.” He seemed genuine, serious. “I care about you. Even if we’re just friends, I care about you. You don’t get to become one of my favorite people and then just cut me off. I’m walking you home. Like a friend would do.”

I stared at him for a moment, then nodded. Truthfully, I was delighted that he’d asked. I figured, with the way I’d treated him that day, he wouldn’t bother.

“So you and Elaine…” I started as we walked, genuine curiosity gnawing at me.

“Can we not talk about it?” he asked, and I nodded.

“Shouldn’t you be walking with her, though? How does she feel about our friendship?“

“Grace,” he warned, and I heeded, shutting up.

We made small talk the entire way, the awkward kind we weren’t used to. I hoped the “friendship” would come more naturally with time. After all, we’d been the best of friends for the entire two months since we met. And we’d never really been more than friends, so I wasn’t sure why this was throwing us off so much.

“Thank you for walking with me, Steve,” I said, preparing to walk away when he grabbed my hand.

“I really want us to go back to how things were before… what you saw.”

“I want that too, Steve. I just… can we forget everything and just be friends like we were?”

“Please,” he sighed, relief washing over him.

“But it can’t be quite the same. I don’t know if you realize how.. touchy, and close we are. Do you think maybe we could take a step back from that for a while?”

“If that’s what it takes to fix this, but I don’t want to. I hope you know that.”

“Steve, you have a girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, she’s- well, she’s-“

“She’s what?”

“I can’t talk about it,” he ran his hand through his hair like he did when he was stressed.

“Of course. Well, when you’re ready to, we can go back to how it was. But for now, we’re just friends who don’t constantly sit by each other and hold hands and hug and walk together.”

“That’s fair,” he agreed, resigning himself to his fate.

With that, I left and we didn’t talk much for the rest of the day. He texted me, but I didn’t respond. I wanted him to get the picture.

• The Halloween Party

Another month passed slowly. Distancing myself from Steve was horrible. Every time the group hung out, he was agonizingly close, but I kept away and he respected my wishes and kept away from me, too. It almost itched, how badly I wanted to reach out and grab his hand. I thought it would become easier, but it didn’t. And the worst part was that the group wasn’t adjusting well to the new dynamic, constantly making jokes and comments about “me putting Steve in the dog house.”

Whatever had been going on with Steve and Elaine seemed to be over, they would chat but I never saw any PDA or even chemistry between them. In fact, she’d grown closer to Robin than anything, and when we would hang out, they would stick together. Natalie and Drew were a pair, and Steve would pack in with Tate and Johnny. I was sort of lonesome, but it was okay. Part of me wanted to just forget the kiss and go fully back to how it was, touching flirting and all. But as I told Robin, it was engrained in my memory and I didn’t really want him if he chose her first.

“Y/N,” Elaine snapped me out of my trance as we waited for class to start, all huddled up in our little group.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I was telling everyone about my Halloween party. It’s gonna be you guys, and a few older friends I have in my other classes. Not, like, a banger, but definitely a crowd and a good time. Interested?”

“Of course, do I have to dress up?”

“Well it is a Halloween Party,” she rolled her eyes at me, laughing.

And that was that. We all planned to go. She was having it at her parents’ cabin, about 45 minutes away from the campus. Obviously, she couldn’t do it at her apartment.

The days leading up to it, Robin and I looked for costumes. She decided to go as Velma, and she tried to convince me to dress as Daphne but I suggested that Elaine be Daphne instead, and they both loved the idea. I had a costume of my own in mind.

I dug in the back of my closet until I found a black peasant dress that I’d had for forever. It was long sleeve, and the sleeves were lace and flared at the bottom. The cut was low and accentuated the way the corseted middle pushed up my chest, and the skirt flared out but still highlighted all my curves in all the right places. I paired it with some ripped up fishnets, black boots, and a funky witch’s hat I found at the Halloween store that also had lace lining it. It was perfect, maybe even good enough to get the kind of attention that would help me forget Steve once and for all.

When the day came for the party, Robin went to Elaine’s to get ready and I got ready alone. I curled my hair, did my makeup perfectly for the first time in forever, and finished the look off with red lipstick. Then I got dressed, and I was ready to head out the door when I got a phone call from Steve, whom I was supposed to meet outside of his dorm so he could drive me, Natalie, and the other guys there.

“Hey,” I answered, “What’s up?”

“Hey, just letting you know, don’t walk over. I’m coming to get you. Natalie is gonna take her car, and the guys are going with her, so it’ll just be me and you.”

“Okay, you headed here now?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in like two minutes.”

“I’ll be outside waiting,” I told him and we hung up.

When he pulled up, I was standing on the curb, all dressed up. My nerves were bundled up in my stomach, and I felt like I needed to throw up. What if he didn’t like my outfit? He’d never seen me so dressed up before.

He got out of the car and ran over to the passenger side, opening the door for me. I couldn’t miss the way his eyes scanned me, hungry and searching for every exposed patch of skin he could see.

He cleared his throat as he sat in his own seat, “You look….”

“Different?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Good.”

I smiled, sitting back. My nerves were still there, but they were eased by the way he couldn’t stop staring at me, glances out of the corner of his eye giving him away as he began the drive.

“What’re you supposed to be?” I asked, raising my eyebrow at his black t shirt and black jeans.

“I didn’t want to dress up, but Robin said I had to so I just picked up a ghost face mask.”

“Ghost face, huh? Chicks dig that.”

“That’s exactly what Robin said,” he laughed, “Billy Loomis does it for girls, huh?”

“I’m not telling you what does it for me, but nice try.”

“I see the new look comes with a new attitude.”

I blushed, covering it up by staring out the window. We were doing so well, just being friendly. Why was he suddenly flirting now? And why was I flirting back? I told myself to get a grip, and stayed silent for a moment, so he turned up the radio, taking my hint.

The rest of the ride was filled with silence, heavy with tension. I felt like a rubber band about to snap, the glances he was giving me sending me into overdrive but I pretended I was fine, crossing my legs and staring out the window.

I opened my door before he had the chance when we pulled into the parking lot. There were a good bit of cars, and it seemed like a little more than a crowd. I suppose Elaine’s intimate hangout had accidentally turned into a party. Steve noticed this as well, placing his hand on the small of my back as we walked in together possessively but I brushed him off, walking over to where Robin and Elaine were sitting on the couch.

Robin must’ve been over the moon with all the attention she’d been getting from the older girl. Just by the way they were sitting, I could imagine her pulse racing. Elaine’s legs were thrown over Rob’s lap, her arms wrapped tightly around her neck. If I didn’t know them well, I’d assume they were a couple.

“Welcome to my party!” Elaine grinned.

“It did turn into quite the event, huh?” I chuckled, glancing around.

“One person told another person who told everybody, I guess,” she shrugged.

“Where’s the alcohol?” I asked her.

“Through that door,” she pointed to what I assumed was the kitchen. I walked that way, running into Tate and Johnny on the way, so they walked with me.

“You look hot, Y/N!” Johnny grinned wide as he told me so. He wasn’t being weird or anything, he was genuinely just giving me a compliment, so I grinned in return.

“Really, who knew you had this badass in you? Red lipstick and everything? Poor Steve must be having palpitations,” Tate laughed, and the other nodded.

“Steve and I are just friends.”

“That’s what you want, not what he wants. He loooooooves you, he wants to smooooooooch you,” Johnny sang, tapping his fingers together in a kissing motion.

“I think you’ve had too much too drink,” I scoffed, pouring myself a cup full of whatever looked good and leaving them to go back to the couch. The only open spot was beside Steve, so I took it, sipping on my drink.

“You’re not gonna make yourself a drink?” I asked him, and he shook his head.

“Put on your mask, dingus. It’s a costume party,” Robin reached over and poked him, and he rolled his eyes as he did as she asked.

He looked good. I could feel my heart begin to race as he turned to me, and usually it would’ve made me nervous, but I just felt powerful in that moment. I knew he thought I looked good. I wanted to use it. I wanted to make him burn like I had.

I leaned in close to him, “Wanna play psycho killer?”

“Grace-“ he started, but I cut him off.

“Can I be the helpless victim?” I placed my hand on his chest, my fingers brushing over where hair peeled through the top of his v neck. I almost felt him shiver. “Please don’t kill me, Mr Ghost Face. I wanna be in the sequel!” I trailed my hand down his chest, scratching him lightly with my nails. As I approached his waist line, he grabbed my wrist sharply, halting my movements.

“You think you’re cute?” he huffed.

“You think I’m cute,” I smirked. I pulled my hand away from him and got up, leaving him there basically panting as I walked away.

I found Johnny and Tate chatting with a couple of other guys, and approached.

“Oh, hey! Y/N! I was wondering where you ran off to!” Tate smiled, welcoming me in.

“Just went to mess with Steve,” I shrugged, glancing at the other guys. One of them had his eyes on me, and I took the opportunity.

“Are you friends with these guys?” I asked him, leaning in a little closer.

“Yeah, I stay in the same dorm as them,” the guy nodded.

“Oh, neat! I can’t believe I’ve never seen you before!”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. Plenty of time to make up for it,” he winked at me.

“What are you doing?” Johnny whisper yelled into my ear, “Steve is watching you!”

“Steve and I are just friends. He likes kissing other girls so I’m gonna go talk to another guy.”

With that, I stepped closer to the mystery man. “Wanna dance?”

He nodded, grabbing my hand and pulling me to the center of the floor where people were dancing. He turned me around and I began swaying with him, daring to glance over at Steve. He looked furious, absolutely fuming at the sight of me with someone else. I was thriving off of it.

All of a sudden, Elaine pulled me away from him, pulling me closer to the couches. The guy protested for a second but Elaine sent him a death glare and he backed off.

“Why are you doing this?” she sighed.

“Doing what?”

“Dancing with him. Steve is right there. You’re breaking his heart.”

“Steve kissed you, Elaine. Even if you guys aren’t a thing, even if it didn’t work out or whatever and he likes me now, it happened and I can’t just forget that. He liked you more than me or he wouldn’t have kissed you instead of me and I don’t want to be second choice.”

“But that’s not what happened! Steve and I were never a thing!”

“Well he must’ve felt something, because he sure did swap spit with you.”

“It was a peck,” she rolled her eyes and huffed, throwing her hands up dramatically, “And I’m gay.”

My mouth fell agape, “What?”

“I never knew. I mean, I always thought girls were cute or whatever but I never had romantic feelings for them. Then I met Robin and couldn’t think about anything else. Excuse my bluntness, but I’ve never wanted to scissor anyone so badly. Steve is so easy to talk to, I completely opened up that night. I asked him if I could kiss him to see if I felt anything. To see if it felt right, and he said yes and believe me, neither of us felt anything. It was just weird.”

“So you and Robin are together now?”

“Well… I’m hoping we’ll get together tonight, if you catch my drift.”

“And Steve never liked you?”

“Of course not. Y/N, he’s been head over heels for you since he met you. He doesn’t talk about anyone else, he doesn’t think about anyone else.”

“Oh God, why didn’t I just hear him out sooner when he tried to talk to me about this? I’ve screwed everything up!”

“Look at him. He loves you, it’s all over his face. You haven’t screwed anything up.”

I stared at him for a moment before thanking her and heading his way.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, standing directly in front of where he sat so my knees bumped into his bent ones.

“Why didn’t I tell you what?”

“About Elaine. If I’d just known-“

“I promised her I wouldn’t say anything to anyone until she was sure.”

“Still, you could’ve-“

“You were so upset about me kissing another girl, nothing but the truth would’ve worked.”

“Steve,” I sighed, “If I had known-“

“What would you have done?”

“I would’ve- Well, I would’ve-“

I couldn’t even complete my sentence, he cut me off at the jump, leaning in and slotting his lips onto mine. I was startled for a moment but he didn’t stop, and eventually I kissed back, savoring every second like it was the last. He pulled away as if he wanted to say something but I didn’t let him, pulling him right back in by his shirt and wrapping my arms around his neck. His hands found my back, pulling me closer into an arch and wandering, ghosting over my waist line.

We were cut short by cheers coming from beside us, and we backed away from each other just enough to look.

“It’s about damn time, dingus!” Robin huffed, wrapped tightly in Elaine’s arms. I blushed, hiding my face in Steve’s chest, and he leaned down to my ear.

“Come with me,” he whispered, and I nodded.

He lead me to the backyard, where a lake was glistening in the moonlight. There was a lake house beside it, cute and cottagey, like something out of a story book.

“Elaine is letting all of us stay here tonight,” he explained, “There’s only three bedrooms, though. So she told me we could stay out here.”

“She just assumed I’d be staying wherever you stay?”

“I mean, be honest with yourself, Grace. Even if we were still just friends, you’d rather bunk with me than anyone else here.”

“I suppose that’s true,” I shrugged, following him through the door to see that it was immaculately decorated. It didn’t have a real fireplace like the house did but it did have one of those huge automatic ones, so he turned it on, warming the place up. It was one room, there was a bed in the corner, not huge but big enough for the two of us, a TV above the fireplace and a couch in front of it with some other furniture scattered about. There was a closet and a bathroom, as well.

“We left the party awfully early,” I observed, turning to him.

“I have a night in a lake house with you, and you think I wanna waste it partying?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” I smiled, grabbing his hand and pulling him closer.

“I’m in love with you, Grace. I haven’t loved anyone in a really long time, and maybe never like this. And I know it’s quick, but I don’t care. I love you.”

“I love you too, stupid,” I rolled my eyes, pulling him closer until his lips met mine again and we fell into a dance of teeth and tongue.

He grabbed the fat of my hip, squeezing, the dress bunching up in his fingers.

“Fuck, Y/N, do you even know what this dress does to me?” he groaned, “Never seen you like this before.”

“I only bought it so you could take it off,” I rasped as his lips found my neck. At my words, he started sucking, leaving a mark I was sure would stay for days, and I moaned. Something about him wanting to claim me made me shiver, goosebumps littering my skin, my need multiplying.

“I can do that, baby,” he nodded, reaching behind me and pulling the zipper down slowly. He eased it down my shoulders, his fingertips brushing my skin and his eyes following their path. His irises got a little darker at the sight of the black lace covering my most sacred places, and he went ahead and undid the clasp of my bra, letting it fall with the dress.

“You look so pretty like this,” he sighed, staring at me for a moment, his gaze loving.

“Your turn,” I smirked, slipping my hands under his shirt and pulling it over his head. My fingertips clumsily attempted to undo his belt, and he stopped me, doing it himself one handed and throwing it on the ground. It was one of the hottest things I’ve seen him do. I let out a light moan, and he chuckled.

“Feel like a helpless victim yet?” he asked.

“You’re not wearing the mask, so no,” I shrugged jokingly, and he frowned.

“I can fix that,” he stated, walking to the table by the door where he’d set said mask. He pulled it on his head and my mouth fell slightly agape. He looked so perfect. So pretty.

“Want me to fuck you just like this?” he asked, and I nodded frantically. “Come here,” he grabbed my hips lightly, leading me to the end of the bed. He spun me slowly, “Bend over for me, baby,” he coaxed as he pressed on my back. I did as he asked and all I heard was a rip as he tore off the stockings, not worrying about my shoes.

I looked back to see him falling to his knees, then I felt his fingertips where I needed him most and I gasped. It was slow at first, just light touching, but I was absolutely dripping, desperately waiting for what I wanted.

“Steve, baby, please,” I whimpered, and he chuckled again.

“Anything for you, Grace,” he cooed, pushing one finger in. I let out a sigh and a moan, begging for more, and he obliged, pushing in another and eventually a third. Before long, he had a steady rhythm, pushing in and out of me in a way that had me ready to come apart.

“Please Steve, need it, need more, need you,” I panted, pushing back on him, reaching behind me to touch whatever part of him I could reach.

I heard a sharp zip as he undid his pants, kicking them off. His tip rubbed against my slit teasingly at first, then pushed in slowly, and I let out a shaky breath. He was huge, bigger than I’d probably ever had, and my walls were stretched deliciously. It didn’t help that I hadn’t done anything with anyone in a while. I’d been waiting for Steve since before I even met him.

“Please,” I whined, my voice a broken shell of what it was before he kissed me. He’d wrecked me already and hadn’t even fucked me yet.

“Here you go, baby. I’ve got you,” he sighed, setting a steady pattern of thrusts, hard and quick and perfect, everything I needed from him, His hands found my hips, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises, and I met him thrust for thrust pushing into him like a woman starved.

That lasted for a little longer before he pulled out abruptly. I whined, achingly empty, but he stopped me short by grabbing my hips and turning me over. “Scoot back,” he instructed, “I wanna see your pretty face.”

“I wanna see yours too,” I hummed as I did as he asked, scooting all the way to the top of the bed and laying my head down like a true pillow princess. He nodded, ripping the mask off and tossing it aside, and I gasped at him in all his glory. He was so handsome, hair a mess on his head, a slight sheen of sweat making him glisten.

He climbed up on top of me, grabbing my leg and putting it over his shoulder. He leaned down and captured my lips as he pushed in, and I groaned, the new angle putting him in just the right spot.

“I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” I whimpered.

“That’s the point,” he smirked, reaching down to rub circles on my clit as he fucked me harder. “Such a good girl, gonna cum all over me?”

I nodded frantically, wrapping my free leg around his back and pulling him in farther, earning a deep groan.

“You’re so perfect like this, taking it so good. Who woulda known my quiet girl could take it like this?” his words spurred me on, making me see stars as the coil in my tummy got ready to snap.

“Steve baby need to cum, please cum with me,” I gasped, clenching around him as I finally snapped, and he groaned. He wasn’t very far behind me, and we rode out our highs together, staring at each other when we were done like a couple of lovestruck kids.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get here,” he whispered for only me, and I giggled.

“It’s okay, Steve. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t spent so long being jealous, this would’ve already happened.”

“I think it happened right when it was supposed to,” he smirked, kissing me on the forehead and walking to the bathroom. He wet a towel and brought it back, cleaning me up and then himself, then joined me in bed.

“Would you wanna, like, go on a date with me?” he asked, nerves clouding his voice.

I thought it over for a moment, leaving him in suspense.

“Of course. How about tomorrow?”

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