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thanksbutno98 · 1 day ago

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Silk

John Price x female!reader OC

Summary: Being John Price’s friend with benefits ends in an ultimatum.

Warnings: sexual themes, swearing, hurt, alcohol, threats of violence, not edited.

——————

Silk fabric, lace embroideries, and price tags that matched your monthly rent. Stiletto heels, frilly bows, in a dimly lit shop that offered champagne while you tried on clothes. This store was too rich for your blood but you had been talked into going here instead of a much more affordable option.

“Looks beautiful on you.” Lieutenant John Price was smiling softly watching you try on dresses for a work event.

He hummed or shook his head ‘no’ if he didn’t like a dress you tried on. It was actually refreshing to have an honest opinion rather than the typical male perspective of ‘you look good in everything.’ You did notice in your hunt John favored you in the color red but you chalked that up to his mind being stuck on the Liverpool match tonight.

You were currently in a midnight blue dress with a high neckline and long sleeves. The sleeves were sheer and top fitted, both having intricate lace work. The fabric was cinched at your waist while having a loose skirt that came down to just above your knees.

“It’s not too much?” You turned to look at John with a shy smile.

You watched his eyes carefully. Leaning to the side John looked at the mirror behind you to get another look at your ass. He was then shaking his head and wagging his eyebrows at you to show how good he thought you looked. This was the most positive reaction yet, so you knew you had to look as good as you felt.

“You look like one of those figure skaters, only the skirts long and your ass looks better.” John’s compliment didn’t help answer your question. It made you wonder if he had a thing for figure skaters.

“So it’s too much?” Your nose scrunched hoping this thought was wrong because the dress fit you like a glove and you looked amazing in it.

“Not at all. You said it’s a cocktail party, right? I don’t really know what women wear to those but this seems right.” John motioned to your dress. He was giving you bedroom eyes and you were having a sneaking suspicion he would be pulling you into the first secluded spot he could find to go down on you.

“You’re no help.” You grumbled playfully.

Turning back around you admired the smooth silk fabric and how when it caught the light it shimmered. It was perfect because you could wear it to more than just this event. That’s how you were justifying spending this much money on a single item.

“I’ll help you take it off.” There was a growl to John’s voice and you caught him winking at you through the store mirror.

“Down boy.” You giggled and gave him a wink back.

Those blue eyes caught yours again. There was a hunger in them that made your cheeks warm and hair stand on end. Desire looked good on John and you swore you could die happy staring into those eyes.

“You look stunning! What’s the occasion?” One of the store employees came over snapping you out of the deep eye contact you and John had been locked in.

You hated being helped at stores. It was like a nightmare to you to have a stranger weighing in on the clothes you were trying on. It usually ended up with you dressed in something that was completely not your style and then feeling so awkward you would buy it anyway.

“Cocktail party for work.” You told her.

You were now devising a plan on how to retreat as quickly as possible. This was the dress and you didn’t need to be convinced to try on something double in price because these employees worked on commission.

“It’s perfect, elegant and a little sexy. I do have another that might look even better. Before that, does your boyfriend need a suit?” You stiffened at the question.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You blurted out.

“Oh, my apologies.” She looked between you two with a tiny smirk that said she didn’t believe you.

“I love this dress, but thank you for the help. Let me get changed.” You smiled awkwardly.

Before the employee could respond you were retreating into the dressing room. You could hear muffled chatter which must have been John and her. If there was a little more privacy you would ask for help unzipping your dress instead of struggling to do it yourself, like you were now.

“She asked for my number.” John voice was just outside the changing room now. You weren’t sure why John was telling you this. It was infuriating to say the least but you couldn’t be mad about it. John wasn’t your boyfriend even though you wished he was.

“You give it to her?” You cringed at your question, hearing the jealousy in your voice. John chuckled on the other side of the curtain.

“No, like I said before I’m only seeing you. You have a date for the event?” John’s question had you feeling vindictive. If he could so nonchalantly rub in your face a woman was hitting on him you were going to make him just as jealous as you were.

“Why, you planning on being my date? Thought you didn’t do stuff like that.” Your snarkiness wasn’t lost on John but he continued on.

“Don’t want you to have to go alone.” John sounded smug.

That response riled you up. You were having trouble handling his possessiveness when you weren’t even his girlfriend. You knew he was only saying this because he didn’t want you going with Adam. The reason you knew that was because of John’s sarcastic and rude comments about Adam that were made at random. He taunted you at times during sex asking if anyone else could make you feel as good as he did. The answer was no, John usually dragged it out of you by edging you.

Pulling back the curtain forcefully you squared up to him. John stared down at you with a cocky grin and quirked eyebrow. Even when pissed off with him he didn’t find you intimidating, you were too sweet to actually scare him.

“I was going to ask Adam.” You said pointedly and then marched to the cash register.

“Ah, he’s still in the picture. I assumed you dropped him last month when you came over to my flat.” John sounded annoyed but you didn’t care. He grabbed your ass and you saw it as a way to pacify himself that he still had access to you in the ways he wanted.

“Well, I didn’t and you know that because you haven’t stopped making rude comments about him since then. And we work together so it’ll be easy since he’s already going.” You sighed heavily seeing the price of your dress ring up.

Reaching into your purse you pulled out your wallet in order to get your credit card. To your shock John already handed his over. Looking at him with your jaw hanging open you were about to protest that he didn’t need to do that. Before you could, his finger came up and slowly brought your chin up so your mouth clamped shut.

“My treat.” And with a wink John took his card back and handed you the shopping bag.

“You shouldn’t be buying me expensive things.” You had to jog after John because he left as soon as you were handed the bag.

“A thank you should suffice.” John stopped to let you catch up and then swatted your ass and you followed after him.

You took notice to how a few women your age stopped their shopping to gawk at John. It made you incredibly insecure to see the effect he had on women with no effort. It wouldn’t feel like your chest was being crushed if he was your boyfriend. Because then you could walk around with your head held high and a security that he had chosen you and you belonged to each other. But then again, he did look delectable in his fitted brown long sleeve, dark blue jeans, and burnt orange Carhartt jacket; it was hard not to stare.

“Well, thank you. Don’t do it again.” The smile you wore was enough John would absolutely be doing something like this again.

In fact it was why he just decided he’d be taking you out for a nice lunch too.

“Let’s grab something to eat, I’m hungry.” John took your hand and lead you along with him.

You weren’t as confident in London as he was. You tended to get batted around and overcharged because you were an American. John flipped his lid once at what someone charged you for a sandwich so you stopped telling him how much you spent on things. You were from one of the major cities in the U.S. so you thought London would be easy to navigate. But you were sorely mistaken, it was its own beast and you were happy John accompanied you today.

“Uh, all the restaurant are expensive around here. Why don’t we get something-“ You tried to speak because you knew buying that dress was going to leave you strapped for cash. There was no way you could justify spending an inordinate amount of money on one meal so you didn’t want John to do that either.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’m footing the bill.” With a chuckle John brought you to an Italian restaurant he had heard great things about.

You cringed at that. Was it that obvious you were broke? Maybe your dingy old flat gave that away or how you avoided expensive things. Finances were hard, you made decent money but you found saving was difficult when you were helping support your dad. He had moved to the UK after you graduated university because he couldn’t stand living in a different country from you. You were incredibly greatful because it meant you weren’t here all by yourself anymore.

The transition was hard on him and finding work was even harder. Your dad didn’t have a college degree and had owned a bar his whole adult life back home, so he didn’t have references really. You actually grew up in the dilapidated apartment above the bar. So when you started making good money you moved him out of his disgusting flat with mice and put him up somewhere a little nicer, but not as nice as you thought he deserved. The goal was to help buy him a pub to run which is what you and him had been pooling your money together for to help that dream of his come true.

You felt out of place in a restaurant so nice that you would never be able to afford. John seemed in his element and you wondered how wealthy he grew up. He knew a restaurant this nice that had to mean he went around trying fancy places. John was charming to the staff and got you seated rather quickly. Wine was poured and a complimentary appetizer came out after you decided on entrees. You were becoming more and more self conscious wondering how many women he had taken to expensive places like this. Little did you know John never did this for anyone but you.

“Why’d you come dress shopping with me?” You asked with your eyes fixed on your plate.

“Didn’t have anything else to do today and I thought I’d be able to sneak into the dressing room with you.” John flirted and nudged your foot under the table. When you mentioned that you needed to go shopping John jumped at the opportunity this morning but you weren’t sure this was why. It honestly seemed like he genuinely wanted to spend more time with you.

“Cheeky.” It was both sexy and endearing John wanted to have his way with you even in public.

You thought he would shy away from PDA but he had no reservation holding your hand or draping his arm around you. Even now, the way he was looking at you told everyone around he only had eyes for you.

“Why do you like being taken out to eat so much? It seems to be your favorite thing.” Tilting his head slightly John’s gaze was focused on you trying to pick you apart.

You felt very seen in this moment and you weren’t sure if you liked it. John wanted to know you better, understand you on a deeper level. His inability to commit to a relationship didn’t match the way he felt about you. In fact he treated you like any man treated their girlfriend, when the two of you were around one another. John craved to know you, every curve, every dislike, the small things you did when you thought no one was watching, what made you light up and the things that made those bright eyes of yours sparkle. He wanted to consume you and make you a fixture in his life.

For all intense and purposes John did see you as his one and only, even though he stood in his own way to make it official. John felt you deserved better than a man like him. He was away too often and the idea of not coming home to you and breaking such a beautiful heart like yours would be a shame. John wouldn’t be able to live with himself at the thought that you would be spending your days mourning a man as rotten as him.

“I, uh. It’s personal I guess.” Shrugging it off you weren’t sure you wanted to get that deep with John.

“C’mon, I’m only curious.” John stared at you softly.

You two were interrupted for a moment as your food was placed in front of you. John’s eyes sparkled at the linguini and clams now sat in front of him. His eyes then shot to your dish and you felt like you could read his mind that he wanted a bite of yours. Nodding toward your plate John took a bite and waved for you to pick up where you left off.

“Um, I grew up without a lot of money. It was really just me and my dad my whole life and he was a shit cook and I’m a shit cook. He couldn’t afford to take me out to eat beside my birthday and he let me pick wherever I wanted to go. . .” You took a breath before sharing the truly vulnerable part.

“So I never experienced good food until my adult life once I got a job. And a lot of those experiences have been by myself because I didn’t have anyone to go with. Well my dad goes with me sometimes but he still gets the cheapest option because he doesn’t like spending money so it still doesn’t feel good.” You couldn’t get yourself to look at John, it felt more intimate sharing this than when you two rolled around in the sheets.

You were taught being poor was something to be embarrassed about. That you had to put on your best clothes and a brave face and act more well off than you were. And you always did, because you didn’t want to humiliate your father and all his efforts to support you.

“Past relationships didn’t take you out to nice places?” John probed.

“Sometimes, really just for my birthday or anniversaries. . . So it never felt like I out grew that poor city girl I grew up as. If that makes any sense.” You mumbled the last part and picked at your food.

“That makes sense. I grew up similarly so I get it.” Taking your hand John squeezed it reassuringly. Looking into his eyes you saw the same shame that riddled you. It was a moment of clarity that came all from a silent understanding that you weren’t the only one who felt this way or went through something similar.

“Yeah?” You asked. That surprised you. You had John pegged for someone who grew up with money. That’s why he lived in a swanky flat with a balcony and took you to places like this and never let you pay for anything.

“Yeah, just in the country side. I’ve got three other siblings so we grew up with holes in our shoes and knew how to make a little go a long way. I really started to try different foods when I was being shipped out to country after country.” John seemed somewhat guarded when he spoke about his family life but it fizzled off by the time he started to speak of food.

“How many siblings? And same, only I was traveling for work.” You knew John wasn’t an only child like you but he never gave more details.

“Yeah, two older brothers and a younger sister. You have any siblings?“ John seemed genuinely curious in getting to know you a little bit deeper and open enough to share about himself.

“Only child. It’s just me and my dad, don’t really have a big family. There’s my mums brother but we don’t get along.” With a shrug you continued to eat.

“Why’s that?” John lightly chuckled at the sour face you made thinking about your uncle.

“He’s not really on board with the whole women’s rights thing. Last we spoke my dad ended up rocking his shit for saying something colorful about me becoming an archeologist.” What you said made John’s eyebrows shoot up and a smile spread across his face. He wasn’t sure why but it felt good that you had a protective father. It meant he didn’t have to worry about you as much as he involuntarily did.

“Your dad seems protective.” By the way John spoke it was a compliment.

“You have no idea. He moved here to be close to me so I wouldn’t be living in a country I didn’t have any family in.” It made you smile to share about your father since you were so close to him.

“Sounds like a good man. He a foodie like you?” The question kept coming and you were finding it easier and easier to share more about yourself.

“No, but he likes good liquor and nice cigars.” Telling John this got another approving nod from him.

“Good man. What about your mum?” That question made you physically react.

You weren’t an open book so John felt he had to be very specific in the questions he asked you. He noticed you willingly talk about your father so he wondered about your mother. Part of him wondered if she left or there was some falling out. It obviously hurt by the way you immediately frowned and looked away.

“She’s dead. I don’t like talking about it.” The way you spoke was nonchalant which peaked John’s interest but he was smart enough to not push.

“I’m sorry about that.” John wanted to squeeze your hand again but you had already moved them into your lap.

“Nothing to be sorry about. People die, she died, cancer, I was little, I’m fine now, my dad’s never really been the same- I feel like I’m rambling.” You were in fact rambling and John could tell you were not fine about it. So to give you some grace he changed the subject.

“Where’s the best food from the places you’ve traveled?” It was the kindest question he asked because he didn’t push on the subject of your mother any further. Taking a sigh of relief your smile returned and you rolled into the next conversation.

“Korea and Japan, hands down. It’s a different level of cooking there. You?” Taking a bite of your food you watched John eye it and then giggled and motioned for his to have more of yours.

“Turkey, some of the best food I’ve ever had.” John was more focused on taking a bite of your food than the conversation. You scooted your plate closer so you could share and he did the same. Neither of you looked for permission anymore and mindlessly ate.

“You’re amazing to take out to eat. You know that right?” John’s compliment made you beam and you wondered if it was only because you were good about sharing your food.

“Yeah?” You asked coyly.

“You’re quick as a whip, funny, and pick the better food every time I take you out.” John pointed at your plate with his fork and went back to eating his food.

“You know we could start picking dishes together and split them.” You suggested.

“See, you’re bloody brilliant.” With a wink John took a sip of his wine and carried on eating.

John was being so charming you wanted to squeal. He made your heart skip a beat. The smile you wore was so wide you knew it would start to hurt soon enough. There was a thrumming in your veins that echoed John’s. You two were smiling at one another in a cheesy love struck way that only those around could see. Somehow you both were blind to the passion dancing in the other’s eyes.

“You know my dream is to vacation in Bologna and get to have the best authentic Italian food.” Biting you lip John seemed to enjoy your small confession.

“Yeah? What about the wine?” John said this as he filled up your glass and then his own.

“The wines only a bonus. I want to gorge myself on pasta and bread. Gain so much weight I’m unrecognizable.” Your joke had John laughing from deep in his belly.

“Sounds like an absolute dream. I’ll get fat with you.” Toasting to that you both softly laughed.

“I don’t think it’s possible for you to gain weight with how much you work out.” You were flirting but John didn’t take the bait.

Normally he flirted back seamlessly but there was a gentleness to him. Reaching across the table John took your hand and played with your ring finger mindlessly.

“Do you want to come with me to the Liverpool match tonight?” His question came out of nowhere.

“I thought you were going with a friend?” You asked, now sitting on the edge of your seat. You wanted to go more than anything. The chemistry between you two was off the charts and it would be a spectacular day for you if this date didn’t end after the meal.

“Don’t have to. You’ve never seen the reds in person and I’d fancy being the one to take you.”

“Yeah, that sounds like fun.”

——————

Tonight was calm and lacked the electricity you felt on your day out with John. It was a casual date. Nothing special, nothing memorable. The wine was decent and the conversation simple. It was meant to be romantic but to you this swanky restaurant wasn’t doing it for you.

“You do anything fun over the weekend?” Adam asked as he poured you a fresh glass of wine.

You were in a daze, mind stuck on John Price instead of your date sitting across from you. When you didn’t answer Adam asked the same question again which got your attention.

“Yeah, went to the Liverpool match with a friend.” You shrugged it off trying to act like it wasn’t the most magical night you’d spent with a man.

“Let me take you to a Chelsea match, they’re the ones you’ve got to support.” It was sweet but it sounded corny for Adam to want you to support his team. It made you wonder why it felt cringy to hear him say it yet when John was excited to have you in red and cheering you were smitten.

“Oh really?” You asked softly and then took a sip of your wine. It made you long for the taste of the sparkling, sweet white you shared with John instead of this flat, boring red.

“I’ve been thinking. We have fun together, good banter, great sex. I’m ready for us to make things official.” Adam smiled at you.

That made your breath hitch. Dread started to fill you. Part of you was hoping that you two would never get to this point. That Adam would break things off or you would find the courage to do it. He was your place holder; all because he was a good match for you. Adam was intelligent, well established in his career, and most importantly, not afraid of commitment. He was the man you should be dating but the spake just wasn’t there for you.

“Really?” It was fake sincerity the dripped off your tongue.

It tasted putrid and left you feeling sick. Being asked to be someone’s girlfriend was suppose to make you excited for the future. But the first thing that came to mind was that you would have to stop seeing John; and no part of you wanted that.

“Yeah, I really like you.” Adam was being so genuine and the way he looked at you spoke volumes.

You felt like a piece of shit.

“I-I can’t. I don’t think I’m ready.” You must have looked like a deer in headlight because before you even spoke Adam demeanor shifted to confusion.

“Seriously?” Confusion and disdain were the first emotions to hit Adam. Then you watched his face twist as if he’d sucked on a lemon.

“I-look, I’m-“ You tried.

“What’s your problem? You went on and on about wanting a relationship and now that’s not what you want? It’s the military prick isn’t it?” Just like at work Adams’s jump to conclusion was spot on. It was kind of annoying how accurate he was. You were also realizing he didn’t take rejection well.

“I don’t have a problem.” That was a lie, something was wrong with you and you needed to figure out what it was.

“No, because I really do like you. And I don’t know what’s going on with you or why you’re running away but I’m not sticking around to convince you to date me.” Adam got up abruptly threw a few notes down and left.

You couldn’t really blame him for his frustration, you had that coming. In your quest to find commitment and happiness you had done to someone what John was doing to you. Stringing Adam along wasn’t intentional and you really did have good intentions but it didn’t line up with your feelings.

“Fuck.” You placed your face in your hands and sat there quietly.

You knew people were staring at you after Adam’s dramatic display. The feeling of prying eyes only made your skin hotter and embarrassment sting more.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m in love with him.” The realization hit you like a ton of bricks.

Your life was falling apart all because you were in love with John Price. Who were you kidding? You knew halfway through the Liverpool match you loved him. The second he lifted you into the air and then kissed you when they scored their first goal was what did you in. John had you wear his jersey and even swept you in a convenient store for you to get some red lipstick, claiming it was only right. You left a perfect red lipstick print to his cheek as a joke and he kept it there the entire night.

“Ma’am, could I get you anything else?” You waitress was looking at you like you were some fragile thing.

“Do you have vodka?”

——————

“We making a thing of showing up uninvited?” John joked seeing you standing at his front door.

He was very excited to see you because you caught him half way through a wank. You also looked amazing in your sweater dress and heels meanwhile he was shirtless and in grey sweatpants that hung low.

“You started it.” You mused back and then pointed at the obvious bulge in his sweatpants. You gave him that seductive smile that riled him up.

“Come in-“ John motioned you in and then started chuckling.

“You smell like you crawled out from a bottle.” He barked out a laugh and grabbed your ass.

You weren’t much of a drinker and John commonly saw you gawking and looking mortified with British drinking culture. So for you to turn up drunk meant something happened and John was praying it was because you broke up with your little boyfriend.

“Might have had a few drinks.” With a shrug you spun around to face John and started to back down his hallway toward the kitchen.

John was now crowding your space and backed you up against the wall just outside his bedroom. With both hands pressed against the wall he caged you in. Lowering his head slight he tilted it and gave you a wicked grin. Taking his finger John hooked it in your tank top and pulled so he could see down your top.

“Be my date to that work event?” You asked softly, waiting for rejection.

“Your little boyfriend doesn’t want to go?” John was getting that smug smirk again. The one where he was feeling like he won, as if you were some prize to be had.

“He was never my boyfriend. I broke things off with him.” You shrugged then left a kiss to the corner of John’s mouth. You hoped that kiss would get the conversation to end but it didn’t.

“Why’s that?” Pulling back John was teasing and you weren’t feeling up for it.

“You said you’re only seeing me. Keep it that way and I’ll only see you.” Staring into his icy eyes you silently pleaded that he hadn’t gone back on what he had told you.

“Alright. I can do that.” John nodded happily.

“Do you actually like me, John. Or am I just a warm body to keep you from feeling lonely.” It took the alcohol for you to finally ask this question that had been weighing on you since this all began.

“I actually like you.” John hardened in a split second at your question. His face became unreadable and posture stiff. You weren’t sure he meant what he said.

“Then, why aren’t I enough?” Your voice cracked as you spoke. Taking a deep breath you felt yourself about to cry.

John’s eyes went wide and he had no idea what to say to you. Emotional conversations weren’t really his thing and he had never seen you upset before. Ducking under his arm you quickly exited his flat and headed straight for the elevator.

“Wait.” John called from his door.

“I’ll see you at the party.” You called over your shoulder not trusting yourself to look back. You couldn’t let John see you cry, it would scare him off.

——————

The crisp night air turned John’s cheeks rosy as he waited for you outside your building. He almost brought flowers but realized you would have to run back up to your flat to put them in water. So he opted to have a mini bottle of wine for you in his car.

“Woah.” John’s eyes were as wide as saucers seeing you walk down your buildings steps.

When he first saw you in that midnight blue dress John didn’t think you could look any more beautiful. But here you were, with your hair tied back in an elegant loose bun that was braided on either side. You were a stark contrast of beauty against the backdrop of your old rundown apartment building.

The pale light of the moonlight made your skin glow almost like you were radiant. John’s breath hitched in his throat and his heartbeat began to pick up pace. You looked beautiful, divine, breathtaking. There was no doubt in John’s mind you were the most captivating woman he had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

“Look at you.” You then whistled seeing John stand there in a navy suit.

You knew John was handsome but this was your first time seeing him in a suit. It fit him perfectly and he paired it with a rust colored tie, matching pocket square, brown shoes, a gold watch and cufflinks. Part of you wondered if he was this stylish on his own or if someone helped him pick this out. Someone had to have helped him because the ensemble had a woman’s touch to it.

“Your sister pick that out for you?” You joked and motioned to his impeccable suit. Straightening his tie your smile never faded and you felt smitten having the man you had fallen in love with as your date tonight.

The answer to your question was, yes. John showed up at his younger sister’s house and practically forced her out the door to help him pick out a suit since he didn’t have a nice one. It cost him more money than he liked, a pricey lunch, and an onslaught of invasive questions; but it was all worth it to impress you.

“You’re beautiful.” John barely got the words out before he was kissing you.

Your eyes widened in surprise, not expecting him to plant one on you. Your eyes fluttered shut when you realized he wasn’t going to pull away. Kissing John back you felt one large hand on the small of your back pulling you close while the other cupped the back of your neck. The way his lips moved against yours was slow and tender, like he was trying to memorize the way you tasted. The normal heat and desire was absent. You felt wanted, cherished, like you were his world in this tender moment.

Pulling away slowly John stared deeply in your eyes. It was emotion you saw, one of adoration that you’d seen when an artists gazed at the sistine chapel for the first time. You felt more than beautiful, like you were a work of art to behold and John was the one to see the beauty of you in every stroke, every line, for all you were.

“Divine, doesn’t begin to describe how breath taking you are.” John whispered before bringing you close to his chest and hugging you.

Nothing compared to the feeling of being held by John Price. Melting in to his hold you breathed in his scent of oaky cologne and spearmint. John always smelled good, even when he didn’t. There was this natural manly scent about him that made your knees weak. You hummed and mumbled about him smelling good and he reciprocated the compliment.

“Yeah, I look that good?” Blood rushed to your face and you felt the flush of insecurity light up your skin.

This wasn’t a normal compliment where John was trying to get you in bed. You could see in the way he looked at you and his tone that this was different. The goal wasn’t sex. It was - you had no idea what this was; and that’s what made you so insecure.

“The way you look is just a bonus.” John’s words made your hair stand on end.

John wasn’t just talking about your appearance, he meant you as a person was what got this reaction from him. It made your heart swell to hear him use your own words you said in passing once on what you found attractive. That looks were always a bonus to you and to know John felt that way about you could make you melt into the earth.

“Really trying to get lucky tonight.” You tried humor to keep your racing heart from leaping out of your throat.

Maybe having him tell you, you were hot or sexy would quell the butterflies in your stomach. Because being desired by John physically was what you had become accustom to. Anything else was new and foreign and solidified you had fallen in love with him.

“Lucky to be your date tonight. That’s all I want.” Laying a soft kiss to your cheek John whispered in your ear.

It was confusing to hear that but you weren’t going to dwell on it. You wanted to enjoy John’s company tonight. Shooing all the insecurities creeping into your mind away you took John’s hand and nodded at him as if he knew what you were thinking. With compliment after compliment rolling from his tongue John took you to your work event.

There was electricity in the air walking in to the posh hotel bar that was rented out for your work event. There was something exhilarating about being on John’s arm and feeling like a couple although you weren’t. It was a taste of what life could be and you found it addictive.

John was amazing, made small talk with your colleagues, even had your boss Sampson in stitches. Sampson and John remembered one another from the dig you met John on and your boss admitted he had a feeling something was going on.

During the conversation John was having with your boss, Adam approached you and asked to have a word. It felt rude to say no so you walked off with him and pretended everything was fine. No one knew about you and Adam seeing each other as you were both private people. John continued to chat with some of your colleagues but was watching you from the corner of his eye.

“Turn me down and bring that prick? You’re fucking joking?” Adam didn’t snap but sounded hurt and confused.

When he asked you the other night if it was the military guy that was holding you back he said it to be cruel. No part of him actually thought that was what was going on. Adam actually thought you stopped seeing him a while ago when you told him not to worry about John, so he felt hurt and betrayed that John was still in your life.

“Adam, I’m sorry. But don’t you want someone who wants you?” You asked and then cringed at how horrible you sounded.

“I didn’t mean that, that came out wrong-“ You tried to add quickly but you watched Adam flare up like a firecracker.

“That’s rich coming from you. You really think that asshole wants you? You’re nothing but something to kill time with until he’s ready to move on to the next. And you really want to waist your time with him than be with me? It’s fucking ludicrous, Indy.” Adam wasn’t yelling or causing a scene and close enough to keep things quiet. The look on his face spoke volumes to those around because Adam wasn’t one for anger and he looked pissed off with you.

Glancing around you continued to smile like nothing was happening. It was taking a moment for your brain to catch up with your mouth. Because what Adam said was what you had been thinking for months now. That John didn’t actually want you and he was killing time. You were his makeshift girlfriend that he never had to commit to and could turn tail and run when it best suited him.

“Oi, don’t know what’s going on but get out of her face.” John was by your side now and took Adam by the shoulder and moved him back a step.

It could be misconstrued as playful to those around but you and Adam both knew it wasn’t. Intimidation was something John excelled at and you watched Adam square his shoulder clearly not willing to back down. You had a friend say there was no better feeling than two men fighting over her but you couldn’t disagree more with that sentiment. You wanted the floor to open up and swallow you, this was so mortifying.

“I have half a mind to-“

“To what? We can step outside if that’s where this is going.” The timber is John’s voice was like coarse black smoke.

You were against physical violence and knew Adam found it as barbaric as you did. Looking up at John you were about to tell him to stop but Adam spoke first.

“Of course she fancies you, she spends her days studying knuckle dragging Neanderthal’s just like you.” Adam spat the words out.

That seemed to shut John up. John wasn’t insecure about his intelligence normally, but being around people as smart as you and your colleagues did leave him feeling out of his depths. Adam wished you a job well done on your latest find, referring to John, called him a Neanderthal one more time and headed toward the bar. You had to step on John’s foot and tug him by the arm before he dragged Adam out by his hair. You realized John wasn’t a fan of being called unintelligent and would only prove that point by trying to fight Adam. John stopped immediately at your touch and looked to you with an expression you had never seen before.

“You okay?” Somehow he was fuming mad but still had the wherewithal to check on you.

“Yeah, he’s upset and I don’t blame him. I’ve been really shitty.” After you spoke you quickly went after Adam and grabbed him lightly.

You left John there, feeling like a fool. He wanted to grab you and ask what that prick meant to you and why you would chase after him. Somehow this felt like betrayal to John and in a split second he swallowed down that feeling realizing it was self inflicted. John knew deep down you would devote yourself to him fully if he allowed, that this pain in his chest was his own fault.

“What?” Adam turned at your familiar touch of his bicep and was not amused with you chasing after him.

“You’re right. You deserved better and it was shitty of me to lead you on when I didn’t know what I wanted. I should’ve sorted my self out instead of dragging you along with me. I’m sorry.” You said earnestly, trying to keep yourself from breaking down in a fit of tears. You felt disgusted with yourself for doing what John was doing to you. Adam didn’t deserve that and you had selfishly hurt him the way you were hurting. You were better than this, too emotionally aware to not see the damage you had done.

Adam blinked at you. There seemed to be a shift, not one of forgiveness but mutual understanding. With the softest of smiles he nodded to you and then squeezed your shoulder.

“Thanks. I meant what I said. Indy, I care for you and as one friend to another, he’s only going to hurt you.” It was starting to become apparent to you that the men in your life that you had romantic relationships with looked at you with pity.

It was leaving a sour taste in your mouth and you hated that this was your reality. Life shouldn’t be leaving you feeling so dirty. Your love life shouldn’t be the shit show that you allowed it to become. It was you, you were the common denominator; the problem.

“I know. . . I know.” In almost a whisper you admitted what had been weighing on your heart for so long to a man that deserved so much better than you.

“Enjoy yourself, okay. We can still be friends. And. . . You look beautiful by the way.” Even in a moment you had treated him so poorly, Adam had the decency to treat you with kindness. Part of you knew he was still hoping for a chance with you.

“Thanks. . . Friends.” You smiled meekly and watched Adam walk off. Standing there you let yourself feel the disappointment that had morphed into acceptance. You had done the right thing, apologized and taken accountability for your poor behavior. And that’s that most you could do in the aftermath of your selfishness.

“What was that about?” John was now by your side and looking smug to hide his annoyance. To him even without throwing a punch he won, because you were standing by him not Adam.

You were starting to hate when he looked at other men that way. There was nothing for him to be smug about. You weren’t his girlfriend, he’d won nothing. Just like him, all you got was some mind blowing sex and a good time when it was convenient. If he asked you what you were thinking in this moment you would tell him you were both losers who were shit at relationships and should swear off dating until you got your shit together.

“I strung him along. I owed him an apology for that.” It was a pointed comment meant to needle at John.

“Did you?” John scoffed.

“Yeah, I did.” You said coldly.

——————

“Morning.” John stood in his living room doorway shirtless and in grey sweatpants that hung low enough you could see he hadn’t put on boxers. He wore that sleepy smile you would dream about on lonely nights.

It was a cloudy dreary day that left the bright sun to cast a grey shadow. The room was lighter but in a depressingly gloomy kind of way. The grey British morning made John’s flat look even more depressing since the walls were white and the furniture black and brown. There was no real pop of color that always left his flat looking like a hotel rather than a home.

“John?” You asked. You were sitting on his couch, fully clothed and looking distressed.

After your work event you and John came back to his place. You seemed off to him and a lot colder than normal. He didn’t know if he should ask if you were okay and by the time he had built up the courage to you were climbing him like a tree the second you walked into his flat. There was a desperation in the way you two fucked. You clung to him, held on tighter than ever, kissed him deeper than normal, and were more into it than John was accustom to, almost like you felt him slipping through your fingers.

“You not sleep well?” John asked while tilting his head at your curiously.

“I can’t keep doing this. I need you to step up or let me go. I’m putting my life on hold for you and, and, and I just, I just need to know if you feel what I’m feeling when we’re together.” The truth came bursting out of you and once you said it you realized the admission wasn’t making this weight on your chest go away; somehow it became worse.

You were hopeful John would tell you he wanted you just as bad as you wanted him. That he had been a fool to keep you strung along this long and that he was sorry to do that to you. Then he would wrap you in his arms and ask you to be his.

But that didn’t happen. In fact, pity formed on John’s face and his gorgeous blue eyes that you’d fallen in love with showed you he was sorry for you. You bit the inside of your cheek feeling in your bones what was to come next. This was the part where he sweet talked you and convinced you to lower your standards and accept the bare minimum from him.

“Darling-“ There was that charming smile as bright as the sun, that won you over so easily, but for once it angered you to see John like that.

“No, no, please don’t do that thing where you’re all charming and hook me back on and I give you even more of my time. Either say you want me to be your girlfriend or let me go.” The intention was to be assertive but all you could hear in your voice was a pathetic, desperate girl begging a man to love her.

And that broke your heart in and of itself. You never saw yourself as desperate or needing a man, especially needing one enough to help you love yourself. Independence was your armor and you weren’t sure where you went wrong or when you started to lean on John for love and affection; if you could even call what he gave you that. No relationship, even the years long ones left you feeling as worthless and broken down as this casual fling with John had.

It was as if you could see the rest of your life in his blue eyes. You knew in your very core he could make you so very happy and you could do the same for him. But he just wouldn’t let you. It all hurt so much and you felt shame for being needy but you knew what you would be losing. You loved John, you fell in love with him at the Liverpool match he took you too and you wanted to cling on to that version of him.

“I’m sorry. It’s not going to work between us if you want more than what we have going.” There was a callousness that John spoke with.

The ultimatum seemed to make him harden. All the emotion he had for you the previous night was gone. That soft look in his eyes when he saw you walk down the steps of your building turned cold. It felt like he stopped seeing you as someone he was fond of and only saw a stranger. Like he would look right through you if you passed one another on the street.

“Okay. Okay-“

“You don’t have to go.” There was a hint of emotion in John’s voice, an ounce of pleading not to leave him alone yet it was wrapped up in disdain. You wondered if he felt even a fraction of the hurt you were or maybe he did feel what you were feeling; only he was much better at masking it.

“John, I can’t. I can’t keep living my life like this- it means I’m getting it wrong. That I’m doing, this whole living my life thing all wrong- and I’m to proud live like this. Off scraps from a man who could give me so much more.” Pain was riddled in the words you spoke and for once it felt like you were breaking your own heart.

Admitting this to the man you wanted more than anything felt gross, like a new level of intimacy he didn’t deserve and you weren’t ready to share. John only stared at you, brows furrowed and lips pressed firmly in a line. There was something in his blue eyes you couldn’t decipher and you had no desire to; not anymore.

“Let me grab my things and please just- let me leave quietly.” Somehow you kept your voice even and calm although it felt like your heart had just been ripped out.

John did as you said. He sat in his living room listening to you shuffle around his room packing a bag of your things. When he heard you move to the bathroom to grab your toiletries he really knew it was over. There would be no talking his way out of this or winning you back unless he gave in to your demands. It wasn’t fully sinking in to John what life meant without you around. He was convincing himself he would be alright and bounce back quickly; although that was far from the reality.

Stopping at the front door you looked around John’s flat trying to memorize it because this was the last time you would see it. You and John shared a look and you weren’t sure why but you felt angry. It felt better to be angry than as hurt as you were. There was no sadness but a resentment that bubbled up and hot tears began to fill your eyes. Stepping out of John’s flat for the last time you slammed the door behind you and finally let the tears flow.

It was humiliating to cry your eyes out on the bus on your way home. Passerby’s looked at you with that same pity you saw in John’s blue eyes and you promised yourself to never settle for a man who left you feeling so pathetic. Because you deserved better and you promised yourself you would never settle for a man who couldn’t commit to you, ever again.

You showered when you got home to get the smell of John off your skin and then went for a run. This was the heartbreak you needed - that’s what you told yourself. Now it was time for you to get your life back on track and it started today. While you deep cleaned your apartment, got ahead on work, and went grocery shopping to stock your home with healthy food, John fell apart. You didn’t know it but he spent that day drinking himself sick and smoking way too much on his balcony. As you threw all his stuff in a bag and washed your sheets, John slept with the pillow you once used hugged to his chest, missing the silk fabric that once covered it. John clung to the smell you left behind while you ridded yourself of him. Neither of you truly being able to out run the heartache left behind, no matter how hard you tried or how much time passed.

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

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bullet-prooflove · 1 day ago

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Pandora's Box: John Shen x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @miraclesabound @cannonindeez @fadeinsol @nommingonfood

Companion piece to:

Ashes - You take revenge on the first man your parents sold you to.

The Choice - In the wake of his brother’s suicide John goes against his parents’ wishes and makes a choice about his residency.

You Should See Me In A Crown - A chance encounter sparks the beginning of something special for John.

Dick Pics - You and John discuss your dating life in the ambulance bay during a rare shift break.

Brunch - John refuses to give up when you miss brunch with him.

Silly Little Boys (NSFW) - John's not like the other men you've been with.

In The Summer - You discover John's secret.

Tiger, Tiger - John reveals the truth between his engagement and his history.

Jack - John's mother opens up old wounds by giving John a copy of your DCFS file.

Bare (NSFW) - John and you commit to each other in a special way.

The Shirt - Jack realises that you're wearing a boyfriend shirt.

Tradition - Mrs Shen makes a decision regarding the wedding.

The Wedding Gift - John's dad brings out the worst in him.

John hasn’t seen his brother Edward in almost a year. He’s been a ghost in John’s life ever since the disagreement between him and his parents started regarding the wedding. John gets why, he doesn’t want to rock the boat, to shine a light on his own issues so he takes a step back, hides in the shadows.

Which is why it’s such a surprise when John finds him standing there at the reception desk. He’s clad in a suit that costs more money than John makes in a month, scrolling through his phone as he leans back against the counter.

“Edward, what are you doing here?” John asks as he dispenses antibacterial gel into his hands, rubbing them together. “If you’re here to advocate for dad…”

“No.” Edward says drawing out the word as he tucks his phone into his pocket. “Is there somewhere the two of us can go to talk privately?”

“Yea.” John says, scanning across The Pitt until his gaze comes to rest on the stairwell that leads upstairs to the rest of the hospital. “Follow me.”

He ignores the expression on Edward’s face as they step out into the dark, quiet space. The walls muffle the sound from the ED, while the cold air causes goosebumps to break out across John’s bare arms. He folds them over his chest for warmth as he waits for his brother to speak.

“Something is going to come out over the next couple of days.” Edward tells him, his hands sliding into his trouser pockets. “Something I don’t want you to be blindsided by.”

“Ok…” John says shrugging his shoulders. “What is it?”

“Obviously you know the company’s about to go under, it’s all over the Shanghai news outlets but they’re running a story tomorrow on Dad, on the fact he’s been embezzling.”

The news hits John like a freight train because never in a million years would he have suspected anything like that.

“I don’t understand why would he need to embezzle, mom has family money.” He tells Edward, his brow furrowing as he struggles to process this news.

“Because for the past nine years Dad has been having an affair with a woman in New York, he set her up with a house in the Hamptons. They have two kids together, a girl and a boy. Jada and Michael.”

John feels like he’s been punched in the chest, the oxygen seems to evaporate right out of his lungs as he tries to make sense of what he’s hearing. “How do you know all of this?”

“Mom.” Edward sighs, shaking his head. “He told her a couple of nights ago before he left to move in with his mistress. If he returns to Shanghai he’ll be arrested by the police out there so he’s decided to stay in the US indefinitely.”

“I guess that dual citizenship really came in handy.” John says bitterly. “How’s mom doing with the whole thing?”

“She’s already back in Shanghai, being doted on by the aunties. She didn’t seem too broken up by it if I’m honest. I think she’s gonna stay out there for a while, show the community she wasn’t affiliated with any of his nonsense.” Edward informs him and John nods his head in understanding. His mom has a lot of family over there, he’s glad that’s amongst her people, that they’ll care of her in the way that only traditional Chinese families know how. “The press are gonna be reaching out for quotes about Dad when the story hits so it’s my advice you turn your phone off for a couple of days.”

“Yea…” John says gesturing at the building they’re standing in. “That’s not really something I can do.”

“Well John, you did open Pandora’s Box with this whole thing.” Edward says without an ounce of sympathy. “You couldn’t just fall into line like the rest of us, you had to put yourself above the family.”

“I didn’t want a loveless marriage.” John says frankly, meeting Edward’s gaze. “I didn’t want to be like you or Li, I want to be happy, to love the woman I choose to spend the rest of my life with...”

“Well you have that now don’t you?�� Edward snarks. “You get to do what you want while the rest of us have to live with it.”

“You don’t have to live with it.” John reminds him, his palm rubbing over the nape of his neck. “That’s the point, you don’t have to stay married to Mae if you don’t want to. The worst thing that can happen has happened, what is you coming out gonna do to damage the families reputation. It’s already in tatters.”

“You don’t understand…” Edward tells him and John concedes that point.

Coming out is an intensely personal experience and with Edward, there’s years of self-loathing to address before he starts to feel comfortable in his own skin.

“Look I just came to tell you about Dad so you weren’t ambushed by reporters over the phone.” Edward says as he heads towards the door leading back to the E.D. His fingers wrap around the handle gripping it before he lingers for a second, tilting his head up to meet John’s eyes. “I’m glad you got what you wanted John, even if it did come at the cost of our family.”

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bemorch · 10 hours ago

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Tags by @vaguely-concerned

I’ve had a lot of people point out the easter eggs in these (the andraste’s grace, the portraits, the books, etc.), but this is the first time someone actually gets the more abstract messaging 100% right wow

I’ll take this chance to elaborate on the ideas in this a bit because I think the differences between their politics, the ways they view the chant, and their relationships, shape the way (I think) they would choose to depict themselves in a portrait.

Long text under the cut:

Starting with Cassandra, she's a character driven by duty and purpose, which extends to her interpretation of the chant. She views the Chantry as a means to a righteous, just and devoted society (although her interpretation of “justice” might not align with everyone else's). She is more than willing to go against the tide if she sees a violation of what she deems a fair system, even if that turns the world against her.

These traits are self-evident in the letter Leliana “Nightingale” sends her after the death of Divine Beatrix III:

«“I know that the Most Holy has spoken to you, Cassandra” the letter stated. “She wishes you to be her Right Hand, to serve her as you did the Divine before. What she considers is necessary, yet dangerous. (...) My own agents have watched as you perform your duties. You pursue your own missions for the Seekers with less vigor than you once did. You question more often, show compassion that would get you in trouble if they knew of it, and you rage at injustice that has become more and more obvious to those of us with eyes. I welcome the opportunity for us to work together in what shall surely be our most trying hours”». (The World of Thedas II, p. 223)

This, though, also reveals the differences between the way she and Leliana served as Divine Justinia V’s right and left hand respectively, and most importantly, their relationships to her (which I’ll get to later).

Cassandra is, above all, a soldier. This does not diminish her faithfulness, on the contrary, her belief in the chant is what fuels her morals and principles, and what she sees as her duty as a warrior. This is what made her rise to the position of Right Hand of Divine Beatrix III, it wasn’t only her feats -overthrowing the assassination plot against the Divine, slaying the magically controlled dragons (a feat that she herself insists doesn’t belong exclusively to her) - but her resolve to do so. As she herself puts it in a report to her Seeker superiors: “Yes, I was indeed there when the Grand Cathedral was attacked, and I fought with every ounce of my strength to protect the Divine. (...) I was willing to die to protect Most Holy, it’s true, and I almost did die. But fighting against such evil is my sworn duty.” (World of Thedas II, p. 221) .

This, I believe, would all be reflected in her Official Divine portrait:

Full armor, of course, not only as an expression of her history as a soldier (which, although lessened, doesn’t end with her appointment as Divine), but also as an extension of her metaphorical armor. Cassandra, although incredibly genuine and honest, is a woman who’s surrounded herself with emotional walls.

A powerful pose, as a way to show authority, strength and discipline, but within eye-level as to not show an arrogant sense of superiority.

Little to no personal decoration. She’s a blunt, no-nonsense person, she doesn’t see the point in displaying her own life in an official portrait where everyone can see it. With the exception of a small portrait of divine Justinia, of course, and “The tale of the Champion” (whether the last one was left "in-frame" on purpose or not, I’ll leave to your interpretation).

Strong Chantry imagery: the drapes, the banner… She does not play the Game or care much for it, so subtle messaging through objects, composition, colors, etc. would not be much of a concern for her (she would probably see the need of a portrait at all as vain). When asked how she’d like to be painted, she’d probably give an exasperated “I do not care, just get this over with” kind of response. By relegating the task to her advisors though, subtle class imagery would sneak in the painting: the orlesian, purple cloth, representing a superior wealth/social status. This would also symbolize how one of her best attributes can be one of her worst: her straightforwardness, and lack of tolerance for nonsense (in this case, noble’s machinations), would make her vulnerable to camouflaged manipulation/influence.

Her portrait heavily contrasts with both Leliana’s and Vivienne’s, because, although each does so from the other side of the political spectrum, both of them skillfully play the Game, even through their portraits. Cassandra’s, on the other hand, has an either boring or refreshing (depending on who you ask) sincerity in her plain depiction of herself.

Continuing with the Left Hand of the Divine; Leliana, despite fulfilling her role next to Cassandra for many years, plays her cards in a completely different way. Shamelessly quoting the Thedas Revolutions wiki: “If the Right Hand of the Divine is her blade in hand, then the Divine’s Left Hand is the one concealed in her sleeve”.

(I’ll be talking exclusively about a softened Leliana here, so as not to overextend this analysis).

Where Cassandra is blunt and inflexible, Leliana is sly and open-minded. While Cassandra does not give nobles the time of day, Leliana, as a former bard, revels in playing their game. Cassandra will rush to the direct and short path, even if more dangerous, while Leliana will take her time finding a roundabout (literally).

Leliana’s devotion to the Maker is, in my opinion, no greater or lesser than Cassandra’s, but it is more unconventional. Even ignoring her “vision” during the events of Origins, her interpretation of the chant of light is not one shared by many. As she explains in Inquisition, when asked about her plans if she were to become Divine: «The Chantry dictated where it should have inspired. It spoke of judgement instead of acceptance. It should encourage the good in everyone, rather than rebuke us for our sins. No one should be turned away from our doors. No one is without worth. Whoever you are, whatever your mistakes, you are loved. Unconditionally. “In your heart shall burn an unquenchable flame.”». She is, to some degree, something of a heretic. And yet, her devotion to her faith is undeniable.

Her portrait shows these same characteristics:

An approachable look: as @/vaguely-concerned eloquently put it, “I am here with you in this private space, you can tell me everything, I will understand”. From her pose, sitting down in a comfortable chair, looking at the viewer in the eyes, to the space she’s in: a simple, homey room.

Personal decorations: the lute, the portraits, the flower, and the amulet. All to portray vulnerability and connect to the viewer. Even the nug, Schmooples II, is an attempt to seem friendly. I mean, a Divine with such a “dirty” and common animal as a pet? Wow, she's just like me! This, although no less genuine, is a very calculated way to depict herself. She won’t reveal any real secrets or weaknesses of course. If Cassandra’s straightforwardness is both a strength and a fault, Leliana’s scheming can be as well. A person like her, so in love with playing the Game, can get lost in her own machinations even in front of a clear-cut solution.

Even though her priority here is to connect with the viewer -the world-, she is still very much a servant of the Maker -of the Chantry- shown through the Grand Cathedral visible through the window. She serves the people through the Chantry, and the Chantry through the people.

This is a new era for the Chantry, one where everyone’s welcome (“elves, dwarves, even qunari.”), one rid of archaic conventions of what means to be faithful. What better way to show this than with a portrait of the Divine’s elven lover displayed on her official portrait? (I am aware this only applies to a very specific worldstate).

A robe made of beautiful materials and textiles. Elegant and ornamental, but not a vulgar display of wealth. A nod to her love for shoes, fashion, and orlesian customs.

And, of course, a portrait of Divine Justina as well. The position, size and context is different from Cassandra’s as a way to highlight the aforementioned differences between their relationships with Dorothea. In Leliana’s case, the portrait is big, hanged in a high, visible place, just above her, as if watching over her. She was, as she herself says, the one who “saved her”, and who motivated her to dedicate herself to the Chantry. Cassandra, on the other hand, even though devoted to Justinia, had a far more superficial connection with her, more by duty than by affection. She even admits it in a series of banters with Sera:

“Sera: You better yet, Cassandra? Can you tell me what she was like? Cassandra: Who? Oh, the Divine? Yes, I'm sorry. I'm not used to such... unorthodox displays of faith. Most Holy was a visionary. I served as her Right Hand, and would have done so as long as she needed me. Sera: But you didn't know her. Cassandra: I just said, I served as her Right Hand. Sera: Fine, whatever. I'll ask Leliana. You can tell there was something with those two. Family pain, there.” “Cassandra: I... You were right, Sera. I find I did not know Justinia at all. Sera: Shame, right? She was pretty.”

This is why, even though she was an equally influential figure in Cassandra’s life, her portrait is smaller, less visible, looking in the opposite direction as her. They worked together, she would’ve sacrificed herself to save her life, but they didn’t really know each other.

And lastly we have Vivienne, equally subversive as she is conservative. The first mage Divine, but also the most traditional out of the three candidates. A deeply complicated woman.

I find that Vivienne is often misrepresented in fandom spaces, oversimplified as just "the conservative mage". She's not afforded the same complexities as her mage peers, for whatever reason (I think we both know the reason). The thing is, Vivienne loves control, loves power plays, but her politics on mage freedom don't come from that, but from a genuine wish to protect her fellow mages. She is, in my opinion, one of the characters most empathetic to mages, even if her ideas of what's best for them are widely different from most. Even if subtle, her reaction to finding the rebel mages left the tranquil behind (and were subsequently used by the venatori to make the ocularum) is one of absolute outrage. Her worry for mages doesn’t end with the “useful” ones, so it’s not about controlling a potential asset, it extends to those most overlooked by the Templars, the Chantry and the rebels.

I’d divide Vivienne's opinionated dialogue in 3 layers:

Her opinion is backed by rational arguments, she’s sincere about what she's saying.

Despite her arguments being factually true, her opinion is motivated by emotional ones. As in, her real reasoning would be indefensible, so she disguises it with a factual argument. The tried and true method used by real life conservatives. (She *is* nicknamed the iron lady, an alias for a real-life certain someone…)

Although at first glance, it might appear that she's using the strategy from the previous point, she genuinely believes what she's saying. So like layer 1, but with the cadence & condescending language she would use for nº2.

The fun part of her portrait is figuring which parts of it belong to which layer:

The mirror: either a representation or her arrogance/narcissism, or a symbol of watching one's back. She is in fact in a very delicate position. Not to repeat myself too much, but Vivienne's greater strength, her ability to take the bourgeois’ wants and desires and twist them into power for herself, is a double-edged sword; her loyalties are fragile, she has to align herself with their interests lest she lose influence. She has (almost) no truly loyal allies.

Reading the chants of light, a so on the nose depiction of her faithfulness, you wouldn't be wrong to think she's making fun of you. I also wonder to what extent she is religious, this could be a facade just to gain power in a world where religion is at the top of the pyramid. (I strongly doubt that is the case, but I do think she’s not as religious as she would make herself seem). Again, she's in a very very difficult situation as the first mage divine, so she has to do everything perfectly. Any slip, no matter how small, could be fatal.

Three colors: blue, red and green. The blue is a symbol of class, and her life among the orlesian nobility (she does love their decor). The red, a symbol of the chantry, this one's pretty straightforward. And then, almost hidden, the green circle tomes. Both a throwback to her first personal quest, and her dedication to the circle.

Gold everywhere. Fully undisguised ostentatiousness. From the purple stool (class symbol), to the mirror, her wand and her clothes. This one is a vulgar display of wealth, but a very intentional one. If Leliana appeals to the farmer, Vivienne does to the noble.

Anyways, that's about it, I don't really have a big conclusion here beyond the fact that all three Divines are different enough to be interesting on their own, and similar enough to complement each other. This is even further driven home by their canon portraits clothes colors: Cassandra has red and black, Leliana has white and red, and Vivienne has white and black. All of them share one color with each of the other two candidates, with gold as the unifying color.

Thanks for reading if you got this far, and thanks to everyone's tags on this post (and every post I make), I rarely reply, but I read them all :)

The three Divines

Prints available here

#been rereading this for the past two weeks and debating whether to post it but fuck it #disclaimer everything here is just my interpretation of the characters yada yada #I am aware my writing style is discombobulated at best and straight up incoherent at worst #if some expressions or words sound weird or not used correctly it's because I tried translating them from my mother tongue. and failed #long post #me talk

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alexispunkkk · 2 days ago

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unspoken sin

♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰

god only knows — chapter 2

read the rest!

- warnings: religious trauma + so much guilt, struggles with purity, toxic/complicated family relationships, blasphemous themes, death in family, grief, sinful thoughts in a religious space, impure thoughts, sexual desires, sexual thoughts during a church service, funeral, crying, angst, description of heavy desire, praying, mentions of the bible.

- summary: a late-night visit to the altar after a day of struggling with impurity during a funeral service

- word count: 4.8k

- author’s note: oh im going to hell for this series, but its so okay! exciting that we meet joel officially for the first time this chapter, enjoy!! also made a tag list, join below

on ao3

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The church itself hadn’t changed much.

Maybe seemed sadder, quieter–but it was the same old church you’d grown up attending like it was your second home. Narrow stained-glass windows throwing fractured reflections across the wooden pews that used to leave little crescent marks on the backs of your thighs when you sat. Hymnals tucked behind the seats, pages curled at the corners. Praying too long, too hard.

The ceiling fans creaked and only stirred the heat, blowing dust around. Neighbors and cousins and recognizable men from all across town in stiff suits and fake smiles, all showing up for the funeral. The least they could do to honor one of the most honest men in town.

You hadn’t attended in years and it felt both like no time had passed and a whole lifetime had passed–the building was familiar, but the people were different. Judgy.

You in particular had changed. Probably the most. And that’s what everyone seemed to be noticing.

The scent of old wood polish hit your nose when you slipped into the pew. Back row, alone, without your family. A few years ago you would’ve sat in the front with your father, an angelic smile plastered onto your porcelain face that everyone once adored.

An old hymn was being hummed by the choir, slow and low, worn and sincere voices groaning the same way as the old wood is. Your uncle’s casket sat up at the front, closed. Surrounded by lilies that are wilting and a single photo of him, at least ten years old–before his diagnosis, before the quiet.

He was one of the only people in town who saw you for you, even as a child. Not just the preacher’s daughter, not a girl with scripture carved permanently into her spine. Not just by your last name, but your own identity.

He’d slip you little candies during service and nudge your shoulder when you tended to fidget too much during too-long sermons. But he didn’t judge, he was right alongside with you through it all–telling you that “even Jesus would be tired by now,” urging those little giggles out of you that your father would shush you and swat at your arm for.

The weight of the world hung on your shoulders in the back of that church, or the weight of Him that always was nagging you. Now, it’s dawning on you that it’s shitty only to show up back to town for such an unfortunate event. You’d skipped town for two years, not even returning over the summer when college was out. Found a new life, ditched the religious aspect to the best of your ability.

But it all comes crashing back at the sound of the preacher’s voice–your father–speaking at the front of the church. Voice low and steady, words more scripture than memory. He spoke of mercy, of trial and suffering, illustrating heaven as a reward.

Just like you would as a kid, you listened, but you didn’t feel it. The words seem to hit your ears and bounce off your skin, back into the stale air. Hollow and rehearsed.

You always wondered if anyone else felt like that. Were you a bad Christian? Was anyone in the church actually grasping the same shit your father had been spewing for years?

You asked your uncle one time. Nine years old, sitting next to him in this very church, but of course in the pews up front. Legs swinging, you turned to him during a sermon on temptation.

“I don’t always feel it. The holy part.”

The admission was brave, but it was before the guilt of religion started weighing you down. It was all you knew, so it didn’t seem as big of a deal–a nine year old doesn’t know better. Children are curious.

He hadn’t shushed you like many others would have, hadn’t told you to listen harder or pray better than you were. Your uncle leaned down and whispered right back.

“Feelin’ God ain’t the same as hearing about Him. Some folks shout about him all day and can’t feel it. Still feel empty.”

The next and only thing was a squeeze to your knee, warm and grounding, before pointing to the front of the room to get your attention back on your father.

“You’re still a good girl, you just feel different.” He added on the way out that day.

It stuck with you, a reassurance that no one else would ever be brave enough to say out loud, especially to a nine year old in the most religious bloodline in town. Not your father, who believed closeness to God required discipline, obedience, and utmost devotion. The other girls in Sunday school cried after altar calls and always seemed to glow with faith that you couldn’t manage. Not them. You weren’t them.

But your uncle didn’t try to fix you. He made space, reassured you that you weren’t sick or a bad Christian. Still a good girl, still an active child of God. That moment was the one thing that’s kept you from going deranged with your thoughts that you’re totally impure.

And now, years later and at the man’s funeral service, someone else in the room’s presence hung onto you in the same way. No one else had ever really managed it, but the stone gaze of Joel Miller across the room seemed to stick just as much.

He never looked at you with pity, he was one of the only men who didn’t preach kindness he couldn’t practice. Rough, but honest. As a child, he’d treat you as a human rather than a prodigal thing who needed saving and attention.

Joel ended up in the pew ahead of you, a few people down. It made it easy for you to get a good look at him when he didn’t have the opportunity to stare at you like he was earlier when everyone first entered the church.

As you remembered, his figure is still as stone, and his presence radiated the same energy that your uncle’s once did. A strange sort of safety, even if you didn’t know him anymore. The same safety and warmth you felt years ago in that whispered moment during a sermon when he assured you that you weren’t a fake Christian.

A good girl.

You remember him younger, standing beside your uncle and father on Sunday mornings, oftentimes seen with a beer in the summer. Smelled faintly of cedarwood, cigarettes, and motor oil. Of trust, somehow. Even before you were old enough to understand the way many men could hurt.

Joel watched you grow, he always seemed to simply exist on the quieter edge of your world. Never making that large of an impact, but just always there. A presence. Lingering safety that you didn’t have plausible reasoning for.

Now, he’s older, but radiates a similar energy–just a tad different. The lines around his eyes deeper, eyes darker, shoulders broader. Like he was aching, curious, yet sad somehow. Not how you remembered the sociable contractor back in the day.

He used to have that Jesus glow, but now, surrounded by scriptures and sermons and even the lingering weight of death in this church, it felt like he held his own secrets. Felt like he was the only one who could listen to your struggles with purity and guilt without throwing a fit. But you don’t know him anymore. You don’t know that, and you certainly won’t go telling him about this. Your plan is to leave town as soon as possible and head back to the city where there was less of a nagging weight of religion.

And for someone raised to believe her worth only existed in how closely she could act in accordance with her father’s values, feeling simply seen by someone–feeling a strange sense of comfort–felt more holy than anything else in the room.

At the reception, they served sweet tea in plastic cups and biscuits on the same tables in the church basement that were used years ago. The heat managed to press through the windows, even underground, making the whole ceremony more suffocating than it already was.

You strayed away from talking to people to the best of your ability, and many of them silently understood that you’re not the same young girl anymore, keeping their distance. The occasional “he’s in a better place now” or “we’re praying for your family” was spoken, and you nodded politely. Said your “thank you’s” and moved on.

Not hungry, not in the mood to socialize. Your damn favorite uncle died, after all.

Joel Miller’s brooding figure lurked in the same way yours did, just occasionally speaking to a neighbor by the back wall. And you watched him. Not obsessively–at least you don’t think so–but just… drawn. Each time your eyes drew back to his frame, something inside you folded in on itself.

Even after leaving the church for a couple of years, you at least tried to remain purer than the average person. To be decorous, have some restrain–and you succeeded, for the most part. Your father taught you that.

Boys in college never usually distracted you too much, and the sinful thoughts never got too bad, which was reassuring in a time of such adverse guilt. But, oh, Joel.

His body doesn’t ask for attention, but he knows how to hold himself with an attractive confidence. Solid and steady, like a wall that could only be moved at his will, no matter the force. Thick waist, legs built to carry weight. Nothing was ever soft about Joel Miller, especially now. He’s large and pulled tight by years of doing what has to be done, and each step he takes carries history. Hard work.

Somehow and some way, it hit you just now. Stirred something inside you that you didn’t know was possible. Not desire, not really. Not in full, at least. But a kind of noticing that you’ve never experienced. An unfamiliar flush began low in your belly and made you shift your weight onto another foot. Made your thighs subtly press together each time he moves.

He just looks so useful and built. Broad, thick in all the right places. Moves slow, steady, and worn, in a quiet decision rather than a pace. The suit jacket he’d thrown on for the funeral seemed old, rolled up too high on his forearms because of it’s small size. It exposed his hands–his big, working hands. Broad palms and the thickest fingers you’d ever see, made entirely for building and breaking. Rough and calloused, littered with scars, just like the rest of him. Rested heavy on his thighs when he sat, unmoving by his sides when he stood.

And God help you, part of you wanted them.

It’s a horrible fucking thought. Perhaps the most impure moment of the recent months, absolutely wrecking you. The heat and simplicity of it, the fact that he was barely looking your way anymore.

Oh, it’s so wrong. Not because he’s older or because of the big man he is. Sure, the age difference is one thing, you shouldn’t be attracted to someone of his generation.

But because of where you are. You aren’t supposed to feel that way in a church. Especially not today. Your uncle just died, the one that reminds you of Joel, and your terrible mind is stuck on the thought of his hands. The hands that once held you in his arms at your christening.

Pulses of guilt passed through you, and he stood across the room, unaware of how the simple sight of his hands just cracked your faith open all over again. You feel stained, like you’d never be able to scrub the sin from your bloodstream. No baptism could ever be enough. You’re a bad Christian, watching a man’s hands when they aren’t folded in prayer.

All you can hear for a few moments is your father’s voice in your head, sermon after sermon about purity and clean hearts. Eve and her hunger. Not even just temptation, but feelings of genuine uncleanliness. You want to cry. Disappear. Crawl barefoot to the altar and let the shame bleed out through your palms.

Or, just maybe, to crawl to Joel and sink to your knees like you would before the altar. Not in worship, but in want. Taken instead of saved. Mouth open, but not for scripture.

You can’t, though. It’s the Devil’s trick, making sin feel like reverence. So instead, you sat down in a pew like a good daughter. Like a good Christian. A good girl. Even though you feel deep down like you’re just faking it now and you’re none of those anymore.

And when Joel finally did glance your way, it wasn’t intruding, and it soothed the thoughts. It was careful. Soft. Grounding, in the same way the talk with your uncle as a child was. Reminded you that he was once a figure of safety, and you absolutely cannot be looking at him that way.

But that’s so hard.

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The sun dipped low by the time you returned later that night. The church often looked smaller in dark lighting, almost less holy in some fucked up way. When there was an absence of attendees, it seemingly stripped the building of its religious power. But the flickering porch light remained on, casting a weak glow on the stone steps leading up to the sacred doors.

Your father has kept the keys to the church in the same spot since you were little, tucked inside a little wooden box behind a potted plant out on the side. A dumb spot, you know, given anyone could easily take it. But the people in town weren’t like that, they’d never cause any harm in the church. They’d never think unholy thoughts during church, they’d never abandon their religion. They’re not like you.

Some part of you hoped that he’d moved the key for whatever reason, but it remained where it was. The same brass key and the same door that creaks on its hinges. The same sanctuary you grew up with but became slowly less fond of–even angry with–over the years.

You didn’t turn on the big overhead lights, but left the little sconce lights near the altar glowing, in fear of drawing attention to the church and the fact that you have to come here after hours to redeem yourself. They offered a soft glow to the pews.

The same spot you sat in as a child called your name. No, you hadn’t sat there during the funeral earlier, but it felt a little less scary now that you’re alone. The second row from the front, center-left. You spent so many years there going from enjoying Sunday mornings to counting down the minutes until sermons would be over. Your knees occasionally had gone raw from prayers here.

The first truth of the evening is when you folded your hands and stared at the empty room.

“Dear Lord,” you whispered, “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

It wasn’t meant for anyone else’s ears, and when the church is empty you can be somewhat honest with yourself. Maybe not entirely. Some things can’t be brought up in church, no matter how hard you try.

You didn’t bow your head tonight. Instead, you stared up at the cross suspended by two cables behind the altar. Framed by an old, dusty, velvet curtain. And you wondered, for the millionth time, if He was really listening.

“I don’t know if you still see me,” you continued, knees trembling under you while tucked against the padded bar of the pew ahead. “But I’m here, finally, and I’m trying. I promise.”

Promising to Him that you were trying felt scary after two years of not even praying, you didn’t know if that bit was true enough. You still have doubts greater than any form of confidence in yourself, which seem virtually impossible to come over. They get better for a few days, and then you spiral. And today, it was the worst of it.

You remember the sermons about impure thoughts, hearing your father preach on and on about lust and pride. You remember the way your Sunday school teacher once called you a stumbling block for asking too many questions. You don’t wanna be that.

Ever since the reception, you spent hours trying not to remember the way Joel’s shoulders filled out his suit and the way his sleeves rode up to expose his hard-working, calloused hands. You failed, of course.

“I don’t want to be this way.” Your eyes were getting wet, blinking to stop the swelling of tears slowly building, hoping everything would just stop and go away.

“I want to be clean again. I want to be good. I wanna be what I was supposed to be. Please.”

It’s like you almost forgot how to pray, how to speak to Him. You’re begging him, crying, trying your best to hold onto your old self and get back to the pure and fresh little girl everyone loved. What is wrong with you?

The pew Bible in front of you caught your eye, and you reached for it, flipping it open as if you knew where to look. Psalms felt like a safe choice.

Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.

The words of David were aching and pleading, the same way you were begging Him. The same way Joel’s gaze felt earlier. Aching.

No, don’t think about him.

Your lips moved silently with the verse, repeating it over and over to unlock that part of your brain that once had so many of them memorized. It still lived somewhere deep in your bones, never left, but the way you sat and said it now wasn’t the same. Trembling, regretful, begging to be made new again.

Beneath the scripture and under the lingering guilt, something new was stirring. A quiet voice you hadn’t heard until now. It told you that you weren’t a bad Christian, but just human, that you feel things and don’t have to beat yourself up over it. It sounded like the talk with your uncle that crossed your mind damn near a million times today.

“Lord, I just don’t want to feel ashamed for wanting. Not for trying, either.” You shut the bible and admitted, voice slightly softer now that you’ve calmed down.

As much as you hate to admit it, coming to the church did subdue the thoughts and feelings for a bit.

The sanctuary was still silent–no thunder tonight, but no light from heaven. The old creak of wood and hum of air vents. And when you stood and walked up to the altar, your legs were a little steadier.

“I’ll try again if you’ll have me.”

You said, kneeling at the foot of the stage. You didn’t expect an answer. Part of you wanted one, but another part of you, so very deep down, knew that you’d never get one.

It was just you for a while, the only lost soul who’d think to show up at church in the middle of the night out of pure fear that anyone else could find out about your buried guilt. Emptied pews, palms pressed together and fingers loosely threaded together. Whispered pleas, guilt balling in your chest.

You cry for a bit. You don’t know what else to do, but it felt right–felt good to get it out for once after bottling up any religious baggage you’ve been carrying. Eyes burning and lashes damp, the worst thing occasionally came to mind before you managed to push it back out: Joel’s figure earlier with his head bowed near the casket. Even that made something shift in your belly, made your skin prickle. And that felt sinful.

There’s nothing you want more in that moment than to come back, to be the girl you used to be. You prayed over and over for Him to give you a sign that it’s the right choice, that you still belong here.

Like a scornful insult to your prayers, God sent something else. Like he was rejecting it, making you worse.

The air shifted just as you stopped crying, but your face is still damp and sticky with tears. A quiet breath can be heard, not your own. You didn’t hear the door open, and you can sense him before you see him.

The same weird presence your mind was focused on earlier at the funeral: weirdly safe and familiar, but from the outskirts of your life. A faint smell of cigarettes and cedar, maybe whiskey. The heavy sound of boots taking two practiced steps into the church before abruptly stopping.

Joel stood still just inside the entryway when you looked over your shoulder, and the door shut with a soft thud. It cut off the distant sound of crickets outside, making the room unbearably quiet. The soft lamplight cast a long shadow, accentuating the thick, hardened figure of the man you just tried for thirty minutes to clear your dirty mind of.

Like a strange sort of reverence, two sinners trespassing at the same time, neither of you spoke. Just looked. Slow breath, tired shoulders, and a few quiet steps closer to the altar after a moment.

Your gaze turned back to the altar, feeling his presence behind you like an unbearable heat. Not fire, but lower and heavier. Like coal. Making you break a nervous sweat.

“Didn’t think-” He begins, voice crackling in the back of his throat. He stops to correct it, clearing his throat before continuing. “Didn’t think anyone else ever came here this time of night.”

His voice is unmistakable–yeah, that’s Joel Miller, alright. But it sounded ever so slightly different. Much, much lower. Rough, tortured.

Joel Miller once glowed with the light of the Lord upon him, never missing a day of church and attending every event in town. He was never married, never had kids, but still got along with everyone. Beloved. Despite being so popular, he was a lot less of a preacher of kindness–he only sermonized what he could manage himself, which is why you always carried higher respect for him.

Now, he’s the same man, but deeper. He just seemed so tired, like he was equally as punished by the Baptist Church as you were. The only other person in town to break out of the sort of psychosis everyone fell into for their whole lives. But it came with baggage, and the two of you could sense it in one another.

You froze, turned so slowly. Wiped the tears subtly off of your cheeks, pretending like you weren’t crying. The lights from the sconces carved shadows into his withering face, deepening the lines of ages that once weren’t there.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt. Just been comin’ here sometimes. Thought this was my spot when it hits midnight.”

He finishes, hands crossing over his chest. Not defensively, but nervously–weirdly nervous for a man you’ve always known to exude such relaxed confidence. And those damn hands from earlier were out again, peeking out from the worn sleeves of his flannel as if the Lord was testing you in his church.

You nod, voice caught somewhere in your throat before you find it, only after seconds.

“I– I used to, too. When I was younger. A teenager.” You forced a breath because you could hardly manage any, having to manually breathe. “Back when I was more of a believer. Thought someone would answer.”

Joel’s lips only twitched, an awkward little curl of a half-smile. It felt good. No one has given you anything real upon your return to town, not even your own father. Or maybe it was just an ache–it’s hard to tell when both of you are afraid to turn on the big lights.

He doesn’t have much to say about the believer comments, but you can tell he wants to speak on it. That he could read the flickers of guilt smoldering behind your eyes, that he can relate. For all you could tell from his darkened gaze, he also was struggling to get back into the neverending routine of prayer. Joel Miller once believed he’d get an answer, but something in him changed, and he’s stuck in the same boat as you.

You don’t know what comes over you, but after being in town for a day and hardly speaking, you have to tell someone. None of your old friends are here and your father would be the worst choice. Joel is the only one your mind goes to.

“I tried to come back. Today… tonight. Thought if I walked through the doors again and got on my knees up here it'd feel the same. It’s complicated.”

There’s a beat of silence and he nods, once, nice and slow. His eyes never leave you, never shift down from your face to the body of a woman you’ve blossomed into since the last time he saw you. It almost balanced you, relaxed you. Felt real nice after all the judging gazes this afternoon.

“It never does.” Joel quietly agrees, standing fully stoic as if he was afraid to move. Just like you.

“You looked different today,” he continues, voice a little quieter while he finally lets his gaze shift down a bit. The newfound familiar heat started in your belly and crawled up your neck, causing your hands to tighten in your lap. Shame. Maybe desire. Simple recognition. “Not just older. Somethin’ in you… changed, or whatever.”

You look away quickly, feeling it all crash down in seconds. You spent the last thirty minutes regaining the old bruises on your knees, knelt down at the altar and begging Him to forgive you for leaving, for thinking about Joel the way you did in the church today. Joel doesn’t move too fast or lean forward.

“But it’s good.” He adds, trying to sound hopeful to make either of you feel better. “The change. You don’t gotta be what your father wants you to. You never had to stay.”

Another breath and heavy silence, and for the first time in years, you feel seen. Joel hasn’t seen you since you were eighteen, and after two minutes of being in the same room as you he somehow knows everything that’s trumpeting in your brain.

And you trust him for it. Feel the need to open up, forgetting about whether or not He’s watching.

“I had, um, thoughts. Today. During the service.” You start, voice like you’re out of breath, barely there. “About you. Hated myself for it, that’s why I came.”

Joel looks like he’s had the wind knocked out of him upon hearing that. Entirely stricken, sighing and shaking his head. He moves for the first time, stepping forward towards the altar.

“Don’t.” He says quickly. “Don’t do that.”

You can’t speak much when he denies you so quickly, but soon he’s knelt down next to you. He’s kneeling, but not with the proper, sanctified intent–he’s facing you, not the altar. Like it’s not there, like you aren’t in a church right now.

“You don’t even know what I thought.” You respond, voice dwindling when you feel a rough hand meet the back of your head, stroking down so gently to offer you some companionship. It started soft, a light touch at first, a question. Gentle. Hesitant. But in seconds, each stroke from your scalp and down felt like a long-forgotten comfort, especially in the rough hands of Joel.

But he knows. You both do. And still, he shakes his head again.

“Don’t gotta tell me, kid. I know. I know the weight of guilt better than anyone.”

You swear your heart has never beat so fast, absolutely slamming against your ribs. And it’s not at all because of the attractiveness of the man next to you, but simply because of the fact that you’re perceived for the first time in your life. You don’t ever bring up your religious trauma with your friends at college, and wouldn’t dare speak of it to anyone back home, so you’ve always been out of luck when it comes to talking about it–but here you are. A man who’s been silently beside you your entire life, and he gets it. He’s not making you feel ashamed or guilty, he’s just as broken as you are.

Joel Miller is sitting beside you in your father’s church and both of you are trying to remember what it feels like to be clean. And everything has changed. Neither of you believe like you used to. His hand is in your hair, and he smells divine, and it’s all too much.

@joeldarling

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heartsforjh · 23 hours ago

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Six Lines 🧺 Dad!Jack AU

𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝐻𝑒 𝐼𝓈

main masterlist | six lines masterlist

“Dude, what are you doing?!” Jack asks Dawson, irritated.

Right now, Jack, Luke, Nico. and Dawson are all trying to build your baby boy’s nursery. Although, it’s more stressful than you had originally thought it’d be. Stressful to watch, you mean. You’re not lifting a single finger to help. That’s half because Jack would lose his mind, and half because you simply don’t want to. Why would you do the work when you’ve got four men ready and willing right in front of you?

Dawson scoffs for what you swear is at least the ninth time in the last hour. “I’m doing it like the instructions say! This is how you put together a crib!”

“No!” Jack frowns, getting up from his spot on the floor, snatching the hammer from Dawson, and showing him the correct way to make the pieces of wood stick. “This is how you put together a crib! This is how you make it safe for him to lay in!”

“Hey, Jack. Calm down a little, okay? It was an honest mistake, honey,” you chime in, standing in the doorway, just trying to eat your strawberries in peace.

You husband sighs, not wanting you to have seen that outburst. He slowly makes his way closer to you. “I’m sorry, baby. I just don’t want him to mess up our son’s room. It’s gotta be perfect.”

You’ve noticed that Jack has definitely gone back to his coddling ways–the same ways that you used to beg him to stop. Only, you cannot bring yourself to care this time around. You’re many months along now, and if Jack were to carry you everywhere you needed to go these days, you’d thank him a million times over. Honestly, you can’t even believe you ever took the extra help for granted. Thankfully, he’s ruthless and can’t take no for an answer when it comes to taking care of you, so he’s ecstatic that you’re feeding right into it.

“He won’t mess it up. These things can be fixed,” you remind him, keeping a calming tone about you.

Jack nods, but then quickly snaps his head to look back at you. “But, it’s Dawson! He’ll find some way to somehow break it so bad that it’s almost impossible to restore.”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Dawson interrupts.

You see a glare cross Jack’s face before he turns around to look at Daws. “Yeah… I know.”

You have to suppress a giggle at that. Definitely not what you were expecting, but at least he’s better with his communication now.

“Listen, J. Your friends are here to help. They’re not gonna leave it looking crazy. They want the baby’s nursery to be just as cute and just as safe as we do, right guys?” you ask, trying your best to reassure him.

Everyone is already staring up at the two of you from the floor, and they collectively nod.

“Yeah, duh.”

“Of course.”

“Listen to her, man.”

Jack nods, finally getting to where he needs to be emotionally to continue. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Don’t apologize. It’s okay to be a little nervous about these things,” you tell him, running a hand through his hair, then placing a kiss to his lips.

He smiles, and goes back to sit down and finish up the crib peacefully. Luke, however, has other plans.

“Hey at least Y/n is getting some pretty good parenting practice in,” he remarks.

You hear Jack scoff and look back at you and decide you guess you’ll stop chaos from ensuing… again. “Lu, don’t be mean. You know how he is.”

“How I am?!” Jacks brows furrow.

“So…” you say, clapping your hands together. “Who wants something to eat?!”

Jack scans everybody’s faces. “How am I?!”

“Uhhh… I will take something if it’s okay with you,” Nico answers with a polite smile.

You turn to go into the kitchen but Jack jumps up and moves passed you. “No! It’s okay! I’ll make it. You rest.”

Once he’s long gone, you turn back to the boys and everyone laughs.

so sorry for the long waiting period on this one, but i hope you all enjoy! 🥹

tags: @mainly-miracle @nic0-hischier @rainyvalentines @alwaysclassyeagle @dancerbailey3 @hwalllllllelujah @justagirlgettingby @kell9rs

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heeseungsbabygworl · 2 days ago

Text

BLACKMAIL — Lee Heeseung (Part 1)

pairing: student!heeseung x femstudent!reader

synopsis: You’re sleep-deprived, emotionally fried, and barely surviving high school with your dignity intact. The last thing you need is cleaning duty. Or Lee Heeseung—the broody, mysterious new kid who apparently knows your biggest secret: you’re the creator of Sweet Vengeance, the wildly popular webcomic no one’s supposed to know about.

genre: high school!au, enemies-ish to ???, slice of life, humor with tension

warnings: light blackmail, bullying accusations, obsessed ex, mild language, gossip, school angst, sleep-deprivation

wc: ~2.2k

featuring: heeseung from enhypen (duh), yunjin from le sserafim, danielle from njz (newjeans), yeonjun from txt (im sorry i did him dirty with this one)... (more to come?)

📝: finally the first episode is here! thank you very much for all the support for now. let me know if you wanna be tagged for the upcoming episodes, enjoy!

༉‧₊˚.♡₊˚.༄

next episode:

The first sign today would be hell was the clown drawing.

And no, not metaphorically.

An actual, hand-drawn clown illustration.

Crumpled into a ball. Hurled directly at your forehead. Courtesy of someone in your class.

You blinked awake in calculus with the grace of a dying iPhone battery, eyes crusty, brain fried.

“What?” you croaked, completely disoriented.

You uncrumpled the paper.

Saw the red nose.

The jagged smile.

The cursed cartoon eyes.

You stared at it for a full beat before wordlessly tossing it aside like it had personally insulted your ancestors.

Your head hit the desk with a dull thud.

Which, emotionally, felt about right.

“Y/N!”

Your teacher’s voice cracked like a whip across the room, dragging your soul back into your body.

You looked up slowly. She was glaring daggers.

“I’ve told you countless times—stop falling asleep in my class.”

“I didn’t sleep last night,” you mumbled, completely honest, completely unbothered. “Sorry.”

“Sorry? Sorry won't cut it this time, young lady. Cleaning duty. All this week.”

You blinked. Your soul briefly floated six inches out of your body.

“Cleaning duty?!”

Half the class snickered. You didn’t even have the energy to glare.

The teacher moved on. You blinked again, brain rebooting, and forced yourself to sit up.

You tried—genuinely, nobly—to pay attention for the rest of class.

Understood exactly none of it.

But hey. You were awake.

Kind of.

Barely.

When the bell finally rang, you exhaled like you'd just run a mental marathon.

You stretched, rubbed your eyes, and muttered under your breath, “I swear she was about to vaporize me with her eyeballs. I saw death. It was real.”

Your desk neighbor leaned in, grinning. “Shame about the cleaning duty.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t just expel me.”

“Well, you are failing.”

“Yeah, but like... does that even matter if I never plan to use math in my life ever again?”

She gave you a look. “That’s not how school works.”

“That’s exactly how school works,” you said, flipping open your sketchbook. “You suffer, you graduate, and then you never touch calculus again.”

You barely got your pencil out when your friends exploded into the classroom like a SWAT team.

“Y/N!”

You yelped, slamming your sketchbook shut, just in time for Danielle to sling an arm around you like a human hurricane.

“What are you two doing here?” you hissed.

“It’s break,” Danielle chirped. “You looked like you were about to ascend to the next life. We came to save you.”

Yunjin folded her arms. “Did you even sleep?”

“Nope.”

“Webcomic binge?”

“Yup.”

“Oh my God, the new episode?!” Danielle gasped. “I hate him. I hope he dies.”

“He had a point,” Yunjin said bluntly. “She was getting annoying.”

“She was traumatized! Maybe she changed because something happened?!”

“You’re so naïve.”

“You’re so mean!”

You smiled to yourself, watching them bicker. Same chaos. Same comfort.

But your stomach dropped a little when you remembered.

“…I can’t walk home with you guys this week.”

They froze mid-argument.

“What?”

“Got stuck with cleaning duty.”

You didn’t even finish the sentence before Yunjin smacked the back of your head and Danielle gasped like you just told her you were moving to Mars.

“OW?!”

“That’s what you get for binge-reading until sunrise,” Yunjin muttered.

“I had no choice! The plot was good!”

“Then suffer.”

You groaned. Danielle tugged on your sleeve. “Cafeteria time?”

“Leave me alone. I’m going to draw.”

“Pleeease?”

“No.”

“Pretty pleeease?”

“No.”

“Yunjin, help me!”

Yunjin stared into the void. “Nope. I’m not getting dragged into this.”

Danielle turned back to you with big, shiny puppy eyes.

You cracked instantly.

“Fine. But I’m standing. And sulking.”

You regretted that decision five minutes later when you saw him in the hallway.

Yeonjun.

Ex-boyfriend. Current stalker. Professional gaslighter.

Danielle spotted him too and immediately tried to pull a U-turn. “Abort mission. Turn back.”

“Oh no,” you muttered. “Now we walk forward.”

Yunjin grabbed your sleeve like she was defusing a bomb. “Head down. No eye contact. Do not engage.”

Too late.

“Y/N!”

You froze.

“Keep walking,” Yunjin whispered.

“Y/N!”

He caught up. Grabbed your wrist. Smiled like he wasn’t a walking cautionary tale.

“Let go,” you muttered.

“We need to talk.”

“No, we really don’t.”

“You’re being so cold lately.”

“Gee. I wonder why.”

People started to stare. Danielle and Yunjin stepped in like bodyguards, forcing him to let go.

The second you broke free, you sprinted like your life depended on it.

"Oh come on baby! Don’t keep rejecting me, it's getting annoying, just saying, huh?! Hit me up tonight!"

You collapsed into a cafeteria chair like you’d just outrun death itself.

“He’s obsessed,” you gasped.

“He thinks he’s invincible,” Yunjin muttered darkly. “Too many idiots at school hyped him up.”

“Gross.”

You tried to shake it off. Tried to breathe.

But the day wasn’t over.

Not even close.

You didn't even get to enjoy your five minutes of peace.

Because after escaping Yeonjun, running across half the school, and barely surviving the cafeteria stampede, you were hit with a terrible, sinking reminder:

You still had cleaning duty.

You let your forehead fall dramatically onto the cafeteria table.

"This is so unfair," you mumbled, voice muffled by your sleeves.

"Should've slept at night," Yunjin said, sipping her juice like a woman at peace.

"Should've fought the system," Danielle added dramatically, throwing an arm over your back.

"I tried," you whined.

"No, you fell asleep mid-attempt," Yunjin corrected.

Fair point.

You sighed so hard your soul nearly left your body again. Then the three of you packed up your half-eaten lunches (Danielle stole most of yours, naturally) and headed back to class.

That was when it started again.

Whispers. Hushed voices. Side-eyes.

You caught fragments as you passed the crowded hallways.

"Did you hear? Yeonjun tried to talk to her again."

"Poor guy. She's being so harsh. Aren't they just having a break?"

"Maybe she's dating someone else now?"

"Maybe that creepy transfer kid Heeseung? I've seen him around her lately."

You stopped walking mid-step.

"What did they just say?"

Danielle immediately yanked your arm forward. "Don't listen. They're idiots."

"But—did they just—"

"They're bored. Ignore it," Yunjin said, pulling you along like a bodyguard. "Also, Yeonjun literally acts like he owns the school. They should be talking about how weird he is."

"But... that guy?" you whispered in horror.

Because sure, the rumors about Yeonjun were bad enough, but pairing you with the quiet scary kid who barely talks? The boy who looked like he might be plotting the downfall of society in his sketchbook?

Yeah. That was worse.

You made it through class without passing out again.

Barely.

When the final bell rang, you almost sprinted out of your seat—but the teacher’s voice caught you.

"Y/N. Don't forget. Cleaning duty."

You groaned.

"Can I fake my death?" you whispered.

"No," the teacher said without looking up.

You trudged back into the now-empty classroom with a sigh—

Jumpscare.

What was he doing here?

What are the odds?

Cleaning duty was supposed to be boring.

Sweep a little. Pretend to clean more. Text your friends. Maybe sneak in an energy drink and call it a day.

You definitely weren’t expecting to walk in and find Lee Heeseung already there—standing by the window with the blinds half-drawn like a broody webtoon male lead.

He didn’t look up when you came in. Didn’t say hi. Just… existed. Quietly.

Creepily.

He handed you a broom like he was passing on a cursed artifact. No words, just judgment.

You accepted it and stared at him, squinting suspiciously. “You—what’s your name again?”

He glanced your way. “Heeseung.”

You blinked. “That’s your first name?”

“Yeah.”

“…Okay, cool. Love that for you.”

You sighed and started sweeping near the back desks, doing the bare minimum so you could go home and binge-edit your webcomic updates. Or sleep. Whichever came first.

Except… you got bored. Fast.

So you sat under a desk, pulled out your phone, and opened the Sweet Vengeance dashboard. Just to check comments. Just a quick peek.

You tapped a spam comment—delete.

You tapped another—blocked.

And then, just as you were scrolling through user messages, a shadow loomed over your screen.

You froze.

Heeseung was standing right in front of you, looking down with the expression of someone watching a car crash they predicted 5 seconds earlier.

You nearly chucked your phone across the room.

“W-What are you doing?!” you snapped, flustered.

“Cleaning,” he said flatly.

“I—what—I was just—” You glanced at your screen, still open to the admin panel. You flipped it over, face-down, like it could erase the memory.

But he’d already seen.

“You’re Sweet Vengeance’s author, right?”

You stared at him. Brain buffering.

“…What?”

He tilted his head slightly. “It’s not a hard question.”

“I—no—I’m just a fan—"

“You were deleting comments.”

“ANYONE can delete comments—!”

He raised an eyebrow.

“…Okay, no, that’s a lie, but you can’t prove anything.”

“I saw the dashboard,” he said calmly. “You tapped the moderation tools. Triple-clicked a flagged user. That only shows up for account owners.”

You blinked. “Are you a hacker?”

“No,” he said, way too casually. “Just observant.”

You gawked at him. “This is invasion of privacy!”

“You were in the open.”

“I was under a desk!”

He shrugged.

“You’re not going to tell anyone… are you?” you asked slowly, stomach sinking.

“No.”

“…Seriously?”

“If you do what I ask.”

Your mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

“I won’t tell anyone,” he repeated, cool and calm as ever, “if you do a few things for me.”

“You’re blackmailing me?!”

“I’m offering you a mutually beneficial agreement.”

Yup.

Today was definitely hell.

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #heeseung #lee heesung x reader #engene #jungwon #park jongseong #sunghoon #nishimura riki #kpop #heeseung scenarios #heeseung fluff #heeseung angst #heeseung fanfic

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wheneverfeasible · 1 day ago

Text

Sticky Sweet: A Marshmallow Story

wc: 8k || rating: E || cw: perceived slut shaming || tags: underage Steddie, o!Steve Harrington, a!Eddie Munson, intersex omegaverse, chubby!Eddie Munson, vaginal penetration, anal sex, fingering, mild dacryphilia, rough sex, knotting, angst/comfort, smut with feelings || brief summary: Set several hours after the events of Marshmallow, Steve and Eddie come to certain understandings. || ao3

🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞

Many years ago, when Homo heidelbergensis branched off into split evolutions, the evolution of Homo hominilupus fought with the branch of Homo sapiens for territory and dominance, ultimately winning and annihilating the ancient branch in a course of evolution that changed the future of Earth as we know it.

This was something that every pup learned in school. Which was, Steve thought, something he would forever be grateful for since it led to this exact moment.

He was bruised, sore, and most noticeable of all, sticky.

Eddie was collapsed against him, curled against his side with his small breaths of sleep brushing against Steve’s utterly annihilated neck covered in Eddie’s teeth marks and Steve’s ruptured capillaries. The only spot unblemished was the one spot that meant so much to every omega.

It ached that it was unblemished.

Steve could be patient, however. He had waited this long, of course, and it did not seem like Eddie would be entirely opposed to the thought. Hopefully.

Steve knew he was deficient in many ways. Sure, he was the most sought after omega at Hawkins High, perhaps in Hawkins in general, but he also knew that his promiscuity could be a deficit. Some alphas had a real issue with omegas enjoying sex just like alphas did.

Which really, how fucking hypocritical was that?

Alphas were expected to be sex crazed, to be fucking anything they could at any given opportunity, yet omegas were expected to be chaste and innocent? If that was the case, then just who exactly were alphas supposed to be fucking? Each other??

Though, Steve certainly didn’t mind the thought of a couple alphas going at it with each other. Some of his favorite porn was the bitching sort. There was just something so intriguing about putting an alpha in their place and taking control over them.

Yet, Steve never wanted to stud. He didn’t want to stud anyone to become an alpha or have the alpha of his choosing bitched, much less doing the bitching himself. He loved being an omega. Loved feeling his pussy or ass being filled with a thick cock and knot. Taking control though? Yeah, he got into that shit. It didn’t matter if his partner for the night was an alpha, beta, or omega; he just liked fucking and being fucked.

Maybe that made him a slut, but he was having fun. And truthfully? There was only one person he could see any real sort of relationship with.

Sure, there was Nancy. She’d intrigued him, and she was certainly very pretty, and he thought that maybe in another life he could see himself being very happy with her and the pups he secretly always wanted. But if he was being honest with himself? His heart had already belonged to another.

And then it happened.

He’d honestly thought Eddie would be another omega, if not a beta what with how late he presented, but to everyone’s surprise the contrarian boy had instead presented with the most delicious toasted marshmallow scent. Like fucking s’mores on a cold night with a side of honeyed bourbon.

Perfect, in other words.

Steve could admit it to himself; he had been gone on Eddie Munson for a while now. He’d have propositioned him long before now had he been given the opportunity, but Eddie had made it clear that he hated all things jock. Until now.

Steve knew he would be touching himself to the memory of Eddie fucking against him on that wrestling mat for years. Of Eddie calling him his. Fuck, that had been hot.

But it paled in comparison to right now.

Hell, he could still feel his pussy leaking Eddie’s spend even hours later. He felt full, stuffed, completely filled with Eddie in a way that made Steve wish he wasn’t on birth control.

Made him wish he was with Eddie’s pups right now, even though he didn’t know if Eddie felt the same way.

Even though Eddie probably saw him as just the slut omega who fucked anything with a pulse, no matter what he said while in his fever.

It didn’t matter. Even if this was all that Steve got, he would cherish it. Would never ask for anything more. No matter how badly he wanted it.

“—eve,” Eddie’s gruff, raspy voice broke into his thoughts as the alpha’s nose and lips snuffled against his sore neck, sending a thrill down Steve’s spine.

Steve could admit that he maybe took advantage of the situation. His fucking crush had gone into a presentation rut for him; of course he would take advantage of it. He had made certain that Eddie was lucid enough to make that decision of course. He would have left had he thought Eddie hadn’t been aware of what he was consenting to, hadn’t been aware of what was happening, and been done with it all.

And then Eddie’s fever had grown scalding.

“M’here, baby,” Steve murmured, turning his head to press his lips against the sweaty crown of Eddie’s head. His arms encircling Eddie’s middle tightened, enjoying the slight give that the alpha’s plumpness gave him.

Fuck, he wanted more of it.

While he dreamed of growing round with pups with dark brown eyes and curly hair, he also dreamed of providing for his mate so that his mate never had to worry for anything, no matter their designations.

Now, he thought about how fulfilling it would be to make his alpha softer, rounder, wider; to provide for his alpha and make certain his alpha wanted for nothing.

For now, however, he had his desired alpha plastered against his side, slowly becoming more aware.

Eddie’s dark eyes were hazy when he finally lifted his head, awareness and cognizance slowly returning to him. Which meant that he soon became aware of just where he was at, and just whose nest he was in. And just what they had done.

Steve had never hid his sexual appetite or his sexuality. He liked sex and he had a lot of it, no matter the designation or gender. He’d been knotted more than once and enjoyed every minute of it. Hell, he’d helped both his alpha friends through their presentation ruts, though they’d since taken to helping each other now. He’d be surprised if Tommy wasn’t bitched by their senior year.

All that said, however, he had no idea how Eddie would feel about such things. He didn’t regret his past at all, didn’t feel ashamed about it, and wouldn’t change any of it for the sake of his preferred mate. If his intended couldn’t accept this part of him, then he knew that his intended would never be able to be the one.

He wanted Eddie to be the one, though.

Wanted Eddie to want him outside of his rut too.

Hazy but bright brown eyes met his, and then chapped lips pressed against his chin in a sloppy kiss. He would need to get his baby some water. As soon as he could extricate himself from his hold.

“Omega,” Eddie breathed in a way that had a fresh wave of slick leaving Steve, no matter how much he had come in the last twelve hours. He honestly didn’t know how he’d survive a full heat with Eddie if he was ever lucky enough to experience that. Never had he been so satisfied in bed before.

Even still, Steve rolled his hips up against Eddie, a soft though quiet moan leaving him. “Alpha,” he answered back without hesitation. He had no intention of hiding his desires either. He wanted Eddie. More than he had ever wanted anything in his life before. And not just for sex.

Eddie’s eyes sharpened at the thrust against his hips, the presentation haze leaving them as he obviously began calculating his situation. Playing dirty, Steve’s hand slid down over the bulge of plumpness above Eddie’s wide hips, further evidence of the baby fat that, despite being nearly legally an adult, had never left Eddie’s frame.

Christ, Steve wanted to mouth all of it, taking all of Eddie into him. The soft give of Eddie’s stomach causing a curl of arousal through Steve he had no hope of hiding with Eddie’s thick thigh between his own.

“Harrington,” Eddie gasped as awareness returned to him, his muscles tensing against Steve, and oh, oh that hurt. A whine left Steve entirely without his permission, because Christ, what if this meant nothing to Eddie after all?

He had thought, perhaps, that Eddie returned a mere fraction of his feelings. But if Steve had just been an easy way to get through his rut?

Fuck.

How depressing.

Except an answering whine left Eddie at Steve’s hurt, the alpha’s nose nudging under Steve’s jaw as his arms tightened around the omega, causing a purr to escape Steve immediately after.

“Steve,” Eddie corrected himself, though even then he sounded hesitant, as though he wasn’t certain he was allowed.

“Eddie,” Steve answered with a grin, turning his head to press his lips over Eddie’s cheek, then over the bridge of his nose, then his other cheek, and then he was swinging his leg over Eddie’s hip and pressing him back against his nest until he was once more straddling Eddie properly.

“Ff-u-uck…”

He’d come this far, had pushed his luck this much, and…maybe Eddie wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea of something more, given the possessive way in which his thick fingers were digging into Steve’s hips at present.

“I love the way you say my name, baby,” Steve murmured, lowering himself against Eddie and beginning to slowly roll his hips over the alpha. “But I like it when you call me ‘omega’ even more.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, even as his own hips began to thrust up to meet Steve’s movements. Yet, Steve could tell that there was still a bewildered quality to Eddie’s eyes, as though he didn’t know what was going on beyond the physical aspect of things.

“Baby,” Steve sighed, sitting up as he pressed a hand to Eddie’s supple chest, pushing him back against the nest. “Are you with me, baby?”

Dark eyes drew themselves away from Steve with seeming reluctance, darting about the nest room Steve’s parents reluctantly allowed him to have. It wasn’t necessarily that they opposed the idea of an omega son. Sure, there had been brief disappointment about not having an alpha, but people frequently looked over the power of an omega.

It was hilarious how so many people thought alphas were the leaders of a pack. Even his parents suffered that delusion, even as they accepted his independence. Steve knew the truth though; omegas were the only ones who knew how the world truly worked, the only ones who could get their way against any designation.

The only ones who could take an alpha and mold them into the perfect mate.

Except Steve didn’t want to tame Eddie. He wanted Eddie exactly as he was.

“I want you, baby,” Steve whined, repositioning himself before rocking against Eddie in a way that had the alpha’s thick cock nestled against Steve’s folds, the tip rocking against the crease of Steve’s ass.

”Steve!” Eddie once more gasped out, and oh yes, there was the further thickening of the alpha’s cock as Eddie’s body woke up beneath him. It had been fascinating seeing the way Eddie’s cock engorged as his alpha hormones changed the molecules of his body, leaving him with something one could never mistake as anything other than alpha dick.

Hell, after Steve’s presentation heat and physical changes to his body, he’d spent almost every spare moment alone playing with his new pussy and learning what made it feel good. He’d barely slept for a month straight as he tested out his fingers and then later what toys he convinced his friends to buy for him.

Steve was very passionate about omega sexual liberation. He just hoped that one day to be able to have Eddie use those toys with him.

“That’s it, baby,” Steve breathed, rocking his hips as he felt his slick leaking out of him to coat the turgid length beneath him. He was undeniably sore, however, as he’d let Eddie use him quite thoroughly through his little mini rut.

Which did give him quite the idea, however.

Smirking, Steve bent over to slowly lick up Eddie’s neck, savoring the dried and fresh sweat and taste of arousal there. He pressed his lips to the shell of Eddie’s ear in a soft kiss. “Do want to fuck me in the ass, alpha?” he whispered, feeling his own arousal heighten at just that thought alone. “I want to feel you there…”

A sharp keen left Eddie at Steve’s words, his fingers digging into Steve’s flesh hard enough to leave bruises, and when Steve pulled back to check, his dark eyes were even darker with pupils blown in clear arousal.

“Shit, Steve,” Eddie moaned, pulling down on Steve’s hips as he started softly thrusting up against him. ”I-is this…for real?”

Steve could only let out a soft laugh, moving to take one of Eddie’s hands from his hips and bringing it up to his mouth. He kept eye contact with Eddie as he slowly wrapped his lips around one of the alpha’s thick fingers, flicking his tongue over a callus the older boy no doubt obtained from his sinful guitar playing.

He slowly sank his lips down the alpha’s finger past the first knuckle to the second, only breaking eye contact when Eddie’s gaze dropped to Steve’s lips around his finger with a small gasp. Humming with pleasure at the way Eddie twitched beneath him, he laved the digit with his tongue before slowly pulling away, leaving it spit slick.

“Touch me, alpha,” he ordered with a hint of a whine, lifting his hips just enough to indicate just where he wanted Eddie to touch him. “I want you to prepare me for your cock. I want you to fuck my ass and spill your seed deep inside me. I want you to claim me in every way imaginable.”

Eddie, the good boy he was, had already begun moving his hand behind Steve to do just as he was instructed, but Steve’s words made him pause. He blinked up at Steve, confusion and something Steve hoped was a desire of a non-sexual sort filling his eyes.

Christ, he looked so cute with that puckered brow, his nose scrunched up ever so slightly.

“In every way?” Eddie asked, eyes darting back up to Steve’s, and there was a note of his usual distant tone there, as though it was unheard of for a jock to want anything to do with a freak like him.

If only Eddie knew that Steve loved him at his freakiest.

Because that’s what it was, truly. Love. Maybe it was too soon, too much, to call it that, but Steve didn’t care. His heart wanted what his heart wanted, and it wanted Edward Munson.

Now, if only Eddie’s heart could want someone like him too.

“Every way,” Steve quietly reiterated. “Any way that I can get you, baby, I’ll take it. Even if this is all I get, even if you never want anything to do with me after you’ve taken what you need from me right now, I’ll take it. I’d give you everything.”

And maybe it was too much, considering neither of them were even eighteen yet and Steve was just a junior in high school, but Steve tilted his head and arched his neck in a way that made his intent unmistakable with the way it emphasized his unblemished mating node.

Eddie’s eyes widened.

“Harrington,” he sharply rebuked after a tense moment of silence, and fuck, Steve could feel the rejection like a solid blow to his solar plexus. He felt the sharp and warm sting of tears behind his eyeballs, but blinked them rapidly so nothing could truly form.

He really should have known. What alpha would want a used up omega like him? He had thought, perhaps, that Eddie and all his talk of non-conformity and ‘mine’ during his mini rut would be different, but perhaps that had simply been wishful thinking.

Whatever. At the very least he had gotten a few good fucks in, and hopefully if he hadn’t botched it all up, he could get at least one more.

Except Eddie’s eyes were widening in pained horror, a scent of distress leaving him, and the alpha was pushing off the bed with one hand to wrap his free arm around Steve’s back and pulling him against him. He snuffled along Steve’s jaw with a small punched out whine.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie whispered, sounding so sincere that Steve couldn’t help but close his eyes and wrap his own arms around the alpha. “I didn’t mean…I just…Steve.” The sound of Eddie thickly swallowing was followed by a soft exhale. “Omega, sweetheart, you can’t actually want me like that.��

Steve frowned even as the pet name caused his chest to clench, pulling back with a petulant scowl as he glared down at Eddie. Though, considering he was still naked in his lap, it probably lacked his typical kingly gravitas.

“And why not? Because I’m too used up to be anyone’s mate?” he scoffed. He could see the way Eddie’s nostrils twitched so he could only guess how his scent had changed. Bitter, probably. Sour. Rejection could do that to you.

He hoped the scent didn’t permeate into his nest. He’d probably have to throw the whole thing out and start afresh after this. Which would suck, since his parents had only reluctantly allowed him use of their scents and it’d be awkward to request something of theirs again. Not to mention having to ask Carol and Tommy again. Questions would be had.

Though, perhaps he’d have to do all that anyways, just to get rid of the memories of when he almost had what he so desperately wanted.

A small snarl left Steve as he tossed his head back with an eye roll. “So I like sex, sue me. You certainly weren’t complaining earlier.”

“I’m not complaining now,” Eddie quickly pointed out, sliding his arm from around Steve to lightly cup his jaw, though there was a panic behind his eyes as though worried this much wasn’t allowed. “I just…Christ, Steve, I thought I was going to be an omega. Am I really the sort of alpha you’d want to be shackled to?”

“I’d want your bite even if you were an omega. I…I like you, Eddie Munson. I have for a while now,” Steve quietly confessed, unable to keep himself from nuzzling gently into Eddie’s palm.

Eddie made another punched out sound at that which quickly grew into a whine. Then, in a move that could only come from wrestling class, Eddie wrapped his large hand around the back of Steve’s neck as he pushed his hips forward and knocked Steve back against his nest, causing the omega to let out his own punched out sound. Without a pause, Eddie was then covering Steve with his weight, pressing his lips and nose against the other boy’s throat and jaw.

“Shit, Stevie, who even are you?” Eddie mumbled against him, but the appellation and the way Eddie’s teeth grazed against his flesh made it impossible for Steve to answer him. “You’re like the…quintessential high school god. You’re young, popular, athletic, rich, and fucking hot. You’re supposed to be a douchebag, man, not…not this.”

“A-and what is…’this?’” Steve gasped out, hands scrambling along Eddie’s back, hooking a thigh against Eddie’s hip to pull him even closer. He didn’t know if he wanted to bite Eddie out of anger or desire.

“You’re still kind of a bitch,” Eddie snorted, but there was a tease to his tone that took the sting out of his words. And…yeah, okay, Steve was a bitch. He never denied that. “But you’re also…caring, protective. I’ve seen you, you know.” Eddie pulled back just enough that Steve could see his face again. “I’ve seen you look out for those younger than you, and those the rest of the school turn a blind eye to. Even random pups on the street.”

Steve felt his face heat up at Eddie’s words, utterly taken aback. Sure, he stepped in if he noticed Tommy or the others going a little too far, but he wasn’t some avenging angel or whatever. He just did what anyone else would do. Well…what anyone else should do. And the only pup he’d really helped recently had been Nancy’s little brother, not that the jerk had appreciated it at all.

No, if anyone was an avenging angel for the less fortunate, it was the alpha currently pinning him to his nest. Eddie was…fuck. Eddie was something else. He was a freak in all the best ways. He never stayed down for long, never let bullying go, always stood up for others in a way that had been what had inspired Steve to do it in return. If Steve was caring, it was because Eddie had made him want to be caring.

“Baby,” Steve choked out, reaching up to brush Eddie’s hair behind his ear. No one had ever thought him admirable like that before. For being rich, and hot, and popular, sure. But not for being anything other than what society told him he should be. “Baby, do you even know how amazing you are?”

No, of course Eddie didn’t; Steve could see that clearly enough in the alpha’s bewildered gaze.

“You’re the caring one, Eddie. You protect everyone who needs it, whether they’re part of Hellfire or not. You draw so much attention to yourself to keep it off the others, and you don’t care about this bullshit high school and who they try to tell you to be. You’re unapologetically you and you refuse to back down. How could I not fall for you?

“You’re everything I want in a mate, baby. You’re kind, and brave, and protective, and talented, and smart, and Christ, Eddie, do you even realize how fucking hot you are?” Steve let out an aggrieved sigh because it really was unfair. Eddie was the whole fucking package.

Eddie blinked down at Steve, mouth dropping open in surprise. Steve could see the way Eddie was calculating everything, could see him trying to decide if he believed everything Steve was telling him, and…fuck, maybe all hope wasn’t lost? Because Eddie wasn’t laughing at him, wasn’t saying Steve was delusional, or stupid, or crazy, and if anything, Eddie seemed more like he was uncertain that Steve could truly mean his words.

So Steve would make certain that Eddie had no reason to doubt him.

“I wasn’t lying back on the mat, baby. I really do want you no matter your designation, though I won’t deny the thought of those little mini Munson-Harringtons have me preening,” he murmured, causing Eddie to shudder and give him another startled look. “I’ve been halfway in love with you since sophomore year,” he laughed without humor, tightening his legs around Eddie when the alpha looked like he might bolt.

“Steve,” Eddie choked out, but Steve wasn’t done. If this was his one chance, he was going to lay it all out there. He knew he was physically and sexually desirable, knew he was unbearably cocky because of it at times, but he wanted to be desired as a person too. For more than just his pussy, as succulent as it was.

Steve sighed. “I don’t expect you to feel the same way about me, no matter what you said then. I know I’m not the typical sort of omega,” he mumbled with a self-deprecating shrug of a shoulder. “I know I’m a slut, a jock, popular, and everything else you despi—mmf!”

It wasn’t the first time they’d kissed during all this, but as Eddie surged in to capture Steve’s lips in a bruising press to silence him, it felt like none of the kisses of passion they’d had before during Eddie’s presentation rut. Sure, there was passion there, but there was something else as well, something that had Steve’s toes curling and a moan erupting out of him. And slick leaving him.

“I could never despise you,” Eddie whispered against his lips when he finally pulled away. “I…I can’t tell you I love you right now because I don’t know if I do yet, but…”

Eddie swallowed, pulling back to dart his gaze back and forth between Steve’s eyes as though plumbing their depths for the truth. “But I think I could,” he hoarsely whispered. “My inner a-alpha…it wants you too.”

Sparks shot up Steve’s spine at that admission. It was so much more than he could have expected after everything. He had let himself hope for the briefest moment when Eddie’s alpha woke up because of him, had laid his own claim back there in the gym when he threw caution to the wind and decided to take Eddie home to his nest, but…

He’d wanted this. He just hadn’t been certain he’d ever actually be able to achieve it, didn’t even think he was truly worthy of it, if he was being truthful with himself. But the open and honest way Eddie was staring at him as though surprised with himself at his own admission?

Fuck. It was everything.

It was Steve’s turn to surge forward, wrapping his arms back around Eddie’s shoulders and sliding one hand into his sweaty mess of hair to pull and hold him close, smiling against his lips.

And maybe he wasn’t the one supposed to be saying it, maybe he should have been the demure omega and let his intended alpha take the lead, but instead he found himself whispering against the only person he ever wanted to mate, the words a needy croak.

“Let me court you.”

Eddie shivered against him, but he wasn’t pulling away in disgust. No, instead he moved his mouth to Steve’s neck, to that unblemished spot that craved the bite of teeth, and suckled a soft bruise there instead. “Yes,” the alpha breathed against him. “Court me, Stevie. Court me, and if you still want me after everything, after we graduate, I’ll give you my bite.”

A happy, trilling chirp left Steve at that. Eddie’s bite, truly? He hated the thought of waiting, wanting it right here and now, but he understood the need for the wait. They were both still underage, even if Eddie was almost legally an adult, and Steve still had another full year of school after this one.

Plus, there was the fact that his parents would never approve of the match and would seek to break it if he went ahead with it while still a minor.

Assholes.

Though, speaking of assholes…

“Fuck, Eddie,” Steve gasped as Eddie leaned in once more, nipping at his mating node. “Alpha, please…”

Eddie’s fingers skimmed over Steve’s side, sliding up his throat to tap lightly at his chin. “How about we pick up where we left off, omega?” Eddie teased with a purr, and even though Steve could tell that Eddie was still nervous, still unsure, the alpha was still playing his part in taking the lead and actually initiating something outside of his fever.

Fuck, he loved him.

Steve, always oh so willing to top from the bottom when necessary, happily let himself submit to the silent request and dropped open his mouth to allow Eddie to push his first two fingers inside. It was heavenly, and while he was eager to get his lips around wrapped around something else too, it didn’t stop him from closing his eyes in pleasure as he suckled at the digits against his tongue, coating them with slick spit.

”I might not be able to say I love you yet,” Eddie murmured close to Steve’s ear. “But I’d be lying if I denied how much I’ve been drawn to you, even when I tried to convince myself you were off-limits. That it was foolish to even hope that you could look at me and see me as something desirable.”

Steve very much wanted to protest, wanted to proclaim just how desirable Eddie had always been, but Eddie’s fingers were currently pushing down on his tongue leaving him only able to whimper at the thought.

“I want to make you mine, omega,” Eddie continued to whisper, slowly pulling his wet fingers from between Steve’s lips. “So why don’t you be a good little omega and present for me?”

A sharp bolt of arousal lanced through Steve at those words. Perhaps in part because, even now, he could tell that Eddie was uncomfortable speaking like the typical knotheaded alphas he hated and taking lead in this way while clearheaded, but fuck if it wasn’t hot.

Eager to please his alpha-to-be, Steve scrambled around in his nest, rolling over under Eddie who moved away just enough to allow the omega to reposition on his elbows and knees, legs spread and the swollen lips of his pussy shiny with slick below his far too empty ass.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathed, looking absolutely dazed as he took Steve fully in for the first time since his fever hit, Steve feeling utterly pleased about it as he glanced over his shoulder at the alpha; his alpha.

“Want your knot, baby,” he whispered. “Want your knot in my ass, want you to claim me. M’yours, baby. Only yours.”

Eddie’s expression only looked more and more stunned at Steve’s words, as though he couldn’t quite believe he’d said what he said, despite the hours long fuck session they’d had during Eddie’s mini-rut.

Then again, this was said when they were both fully mentally cognizant, so Steve had to admit that it was probably more than Eddie might have ever expected him to say.

Which, truly, only made Steve fall more and more.

“I mean it,” he murmured, though maybe it was a whimper. “Fuck, Eddie, I want you. Not just any alpha, or anyone with a dick. I want you, Edward Munson. Now and forever. Only you. Wanna mate you, marry you, be pupped by you. Please.”

This was, apparently, the right thing to say. Eddie made another punched out sound, and then he was covering Steve’s back with his chest and pulled Steve’s chin further back over his shoulder to press their lips together once more, if only briefly.

“Shit, Stevie,” Eddie breathed. “Keep sweet-talking me like that, and I’ll make sure you’re rounded with my pups when you walk that graduation stage.”

A needy whine left Steve at that, fresh slick coating his insides, an ache of want settling into his core. Want for Eddie’s magnificent dick, certainly, but a deeper want as well, a want that desired the warmth of a pup in his belly and his arms. His and Eddie’s pup.

Eddie’s fingers trembled ever so slightly as they grazed over Steve’s ass, hesitating for a moment, but then the spit-covered fingers slipped between Steve’s rounded cheeks and pressed against the spot Steve so desperately craved him.

“Fuck,” Steve gasped, dropping his head between his shoulders as he pressed back again the searching fingers. “That’s right, baby,” he groaned, arching against the touch as Eddie pulled back enough to watch what he was doing. “Just like that.”

“Christ, you’re unreal, Harrington,” Eddie groaned, and Steve didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know that Eddie’s gaze was firmly trapped by his ass. He could feel it burning him as Eddie traced his puckered entrance. The use of his unfortunate surname did not sting quite as much in this moment, the drag of Eddie’s callused fingertips sending a sharp flare of arousal through him. He did nothing to hide his gasps or moans, wanting Eddie to know just what he was doing to him.

“Need you inside me, alpha,” Steve groaned. “Please let me feel you inside me. Fuck my ass, baby, please.”

A muffled swear left Eddie’s lips, fingers stuttering where they rubbed at him, and then Eddie’s hot mouth was nipping at Steve’s lower back which pulled a startled yelp from the omega. “This ass is mine now, Stevie. Right? No one else gets to touch it except for me.”

The possessive growl in Eddie’s voice caused a fresh wave of slick to coat Steve, but he wasn’t given a chance to answer before Eddie’s index and middle fingers slid from his ass and over his taint to spear inside his wet cunt all the way to the final knuckles. A sharp cry left Steve instead, his own fingers scrambling and flexing in the material of his nest for purchase as Eddie pumped inside him.

“If you ever need a dick in your ass, your pussy, or your mouth, it’s gonna be mine, understand?”

“Y-yours,” Steve shakily moaned out, clenching around the fingers moving inside him. “Only yours, alpha.”

A whimper left him when Eddie’s fingers did, but he wasn’t given time to truly complain as those thick fingers were swiftly returned back to his ass, slick and warm and stroking over his hole until, finally, the first one pressed inside.

The feeling, like always, was exquisite, but there was a certain something else to the knowledge that it was Eddie knuckles deep inside him, and soon a whole lot more. A startled chirp left Steve, jerking forward on instinct before pushing back against the intrusion with a groan of anticipatory pleasure.

The thing was that he knew that Eddie was inexperienced. That much was obvious, even with his alpha instincts thoroughly working Steve over during his mini rut. The boy had never had a chance to properly explore his sexuality before his presentation, which Steve could slightly relate to, though he had presented earlier than most of his classmates.

Which had, of course, lent himself to becoming probably the biggest known slut at Hawkins High since perhaps its founding. Steve liked sex and he saw nothing wrong with that. The only reason he slept around so much had been because he’d never had anyone he truly wanted in this way, and then after falling for Eddie…

Well. Maybe it was a bit premature since they were only just now talking about this being an official thing, but he was ready to settle down.

That didn’t mean he had to stop being a slut for his alpha though.

“Fuck, Eddie,” Steve gasped out as Eddie worked him open with his finger. His pussy clenched around nothing, but he really couldn’t complain as his ass was filled with first one finger, and then two. “Feels so good, alpha…”

Eddie grunted behind him, his free hand moving to cup Steve’s ass before pushing his cheek aside to open up the view, watching his slick fingers disappear inside Steve over and over again.

“You take me so well, omega,” Eddie breathed, and Steve could tell he was trying to sound confident and alpha-like, but there was no hiding the awe in his voice. It made Steve preen, pushing back against those fingers with a moan.

“Want all of you, baby. Only you. My alpha,” he whimpered, fingers curling in the materials of his nest as Eddie’s own fingers pushed in as deeply as they could go. The burn of the stretch did nothing to end his pleasure, and it in fact only heightened it as Eddie’s thick digits began pumping in and out of him in earnest, the wet sound of it a symphony to Steve’s ears.

This was his alpha. Steve didn’t know if he believed in fated mates, and yet he knew that Eddie was his. He’d watched Eddie from afar, had sought to learn everything he could about him, and thought they were at polar opposites of the social spectrum, there was no denying just how similar they were to each other.

“Alpha,” Steve whimpered, Eddie’s fingerings curling almost instinctively to hit that spot inside Steve that sent sparks through his synapses. “Please, baby, need more,” he groaned, fingers curled in his nest and pushing back against the intrusion.

“Shit, Stevie, you really are a slut for this, aren’t you?” Eddie breathed, but the awe was still there, Eddie’s arousal still ripe in the air.

“Only for you now, baby,” Steve breathlessly grinned, his slick trailing down his thigh with want.

“Good little omega,” Eddie groaned, and Steve clenched his empty cunt with a sharp moan as Eddie thrust his two fingers inside Steve hard and deep. He could only whimper when they withdrew before a third one speared inside him with the others, a choked out cry leaving him.

“Shhh,” Eddie soothed, his free hand sliding over Steve’s arched spine. “Gonna fill you so good, omega,” he whispered. “Everyone will know you’re mine after today.”

“Please,” Steve groaned in agreement. “Want everyone to know. I’m yours, baby.”

“Mine,” Eddie breathed, or maybe it was a growl, or maybe it was something else entirely. Steve could hardly care about the specifics when, after working him quite open, Eddie drew away and pulled out his questing fingers.

He was not given time for disappointment.

Eddie’s fingers moved then to grip him roughly by the hip, and then the alpha’s cock was slamming into his cunt in a way that left Steve breathless, stars exploding behind eyes, the slick sound of his wet pussy as Eddie thrust into him repeatedly filling the air with the salty scent of arousal. It was exquisite, yet not the end goal.

Mere moments later, Eddie was once more pulling free, thick cock coated in Steve’s juices. The shiny head was then pressing against his asshole, the ring of muscle fluttering in anticipation.

“Can’t wait to make you a Munson, sweetheart,” Eddie breathed so quietly that Steve didn’t even know if the statement was for his benefit or not. Eddie might not be in love with him yet, but Steve’s most hopeful thoughts imagined that he might very well be on his way to be.

And Steve had no intention of letting the alpha he claimed for his own go again.

A sharp keen left Steve then as Eddie’s cock pressed in, lubricated with Steve’s own slick. He slid his knees farther apart to allow his alpha greater access, arching his back both to show off and from genuine pleasure.

“Fuck, baby,” he gasped, breathless as Eddie’s thick cock sunk deeper and deeper inside him. “Y’feel so good. So big.”

Eddie’s fingers squeezed where they had returned to Steve’s hips after guiding himself in, thrilling Steve as he knew they would bruise in such a lovely and telling way. There would be no denying what sort of bruises they were. Steve would need to remember to wear some of his more low hanging pants to show them off.

“Can’t believe you’re this tight,” Eddie groaned, pausing halfway in to catch his breath, though it left him again in a muttered curse when Steve clenched around the hard length inside him with a smirk. His pussy game was strong, but he knew how to use his ass as well.

He could feel his empty pussy throbbing with desire, could feel even more of his slick gathering at his lips to drip out of him. He’d never been more turned on in his life. Sure, he had always been the sort of omega to get wet easily, always had a Slip ‘N Slide pussy, but he couldn’t recall ever being this wet outside of his heats before.

And it was all because of the boy sliding deep inside his ass at that moment.

Any pain that came from Eddie’s thick cock spearing him open was forgotten in the pleasure of it all. Drool gathered in Steve’s mouth, dribbling out of him as he panted and keened as Eddie bottomed out inside him, the slap of the alpha’s balls sending another pulse of arousal through him.

Eddie’s weight draped along Steve’s back, their sweat mingling together, just like their scents. The older boy nuzzled at Steve’s equally sweaty hair, licking a slow path up his neck and over the mating gland.

“My perfect omega,” Eddie whispered, though his voice was strained with the effort it took not to fuck and claim in that moment. “I will ruin you for every other alpha out there.”

Steve could only grin. “You already have,” he wheezed, arms and thighs quivering with the effort of not letting himself fall, as well as the effort to not push back for more. “Please, baby. Don’t hold back. Claim me.”

Eddie let out a shuddering breath, a hand sliding around to stroke over Steve’s chest and down over his cocklet, fondling the smaller though no less hard length before moving once more to dip between Steve’s legs.

“I already have,” Eddie purred, and though Steve could not see it, he could feel the smirk Eddie placed as a kiss against his shoulder blade. “Mine.” Giving no more warning, Eddie sharply bit Steve’s shoulder as he twisted and hooked his fingers into the omega’s pussy to use as leverage to pull him back against him, at the same time harshly thrusting forward.

“Eddie!” Steve cried out, both in shock and in pleasure, unable to miss the loss of those fingers when they were pulled from him as Eddie finally began to move.

Slick coated fingers gripped him tightly by the hips once more as Eddie slid nearly all the way out of him, only to thrust forward with a force that nearly toppled Steve. And it would have, had it not been for the way Eddie pulled Steve back onto his dick at the same time, only to repeat the process again.

Steve could hardly catch his breath at the near-punishing intensity of Eddie’s thrusts as he fucked deep into Steve’s ass over and over again, the sound of his balls slapping Steve’s skin and the wet schlick of Eddie’s dick pumping into him nearly drowning out their combined gasps, grunts, and swears.

Tears gathered at the corners of Steve’s eyes from the pleasure, nearly going cross eyed with it, salivating tongue all but lolling out of him at the brutal pace Eddie set. Eddie had been quite…energetic during his mini rut, had left Steve quite bruised and sore, but this here now was unlike anything before.

Firstly, Eddie was fully cognizant of himself this time, moving with genuine desire over presentation instinct. Eddie’s words were thus far more meaningful, his actions far more telling.

Secondly, Steve loved anal. Sure, there was nothing quite like his pussy being filled with hard cock, but there was just something a little special about letting someone take him from behind. It required a certain level of trust, after all, but dear god, the feeling was exquisite. It scratched an itch he sometimes didn’t realize he had, his pleasure points igniting like fire at the stretch and ache of it all.

Perhaps that was a shallow reason, but Steve never claimed he wasn’t shallow at times.

Thirdly, lastly but not leastly, this was a mere promise of what was to come for their future. He had hoped that Eddie had understood everything he’d said in the gym, but he had mean more than prepared for this to be a one-time occurrence. Now, Eddie’s possessive bruises literally his body in promise, Steve knew that tonight was merely just the first night.

Now Steve knew that the future he’d always desperately wanted, one with a spouse that loved him and pups underfoot as they travel near and far, might not just be a fairytale after all.

A large hand pushed between his shoulder blades below his neck, forcing his face into his nest already damp with sweat, spit, and tears. He went willingly, rolling his hips as well as he was able in his position to meet every one of Eddie’s strong thrusts. They were becoming more erratic, quicker and more pounding, and he could feel how his ass and hips were already reddened by skin slapping skin.

Of Eddie’s inflating knot signaling how desperately Eddie wanted him too.

And then there was the way Eddie was growling Steve’s name in litany like a prayer, of the way he claimed him as his omega over and over again in promise, the way Eddie gave Steve everything he had ever wanted.

Steve was going to come with Eddie’s dick in his ass and Steve’s heart in Eddie’s chest.

The blunt press of Eddie’s dick head hitting those spots inside him with every thrust, the way his dick swelled even more inside Steve in preparation, the way Eddie’s knot banged at his entrance…Steve felt the tight coil tightening further, could feel his slick dribbling out of him like a spring.

He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want to breathe. All he wanted was to stay in this moment with the one he loved.

Of course, such a thing was impossible, and biology had other ideas. Eddie apparently did too, which Steve could hardly find fault with as it led to the best approaching orgasm of his life.

Eddie’s thick fingers left his shoulder blades to curl into Steve’s hair, jerking him back roughly to arch his neck even as his other arm wrapped firmly around his middle to pull him back onto Eddie’s dick until, with a cry of pained pleasure, Eddie’s knot popped inside him. At the same time, Eddie’s teeth bit down into the sensitive skin of his neck over his gland, though not enough to break skin or spill Steve’s mating blood.

That promise of future, the feeling of Eddie’s fingers twisting and pulling his hair, of Eddie’s knot buried deep inside him in the most intimate way…

The coil at the base of Steve’s spine snapped, arching against Eddie’s body as much as he could with a sharp cry, tears spilling down his cheeks as a flood of slick left his pussy and his cocklet squirted from the sheer intensity of his pleasure.

Ropes and ropes of Eddie’s seed spilled deep inside him, hot and comforting in its claim, Eddie’s own cry of orgasm muffled against Steve’s neck.

Pure…bliss…

After a few jerking switches of Eddie’s hips as his knot tethered them together, his cock even now still twitching and spilling his seed inside Steve’s ass, the alpha carefully maneuvered them to their sides in the nest, keeping Steve clasped firmly against his soft chest. Blindly, Steve sought out Eddie’s hand to hold, intertwining their fingers and holding them tight to his own chest, the occasional soft keen of pleasure leaving him as Eddie’s knot worked desperately for a pup that (for now) would not be.

“Stevie,” Eddie breathed, voice full of affection and awe. Slowly, carefully, he licked at the bruise mating gland, hips briefly jerking once more, before carefully lifting himself just enough peer over into Steve’s face. Whatever worry puckering his brow was wiped away at the expression on Steve’s wet face, the omega knowing it was flushed with contentment and pleasure.

“My Stevie,” Eddie whispered again, leaning again to lightly lick at the salty trail of Steve’s tears on his cheek. “My beautiful omega.”

“My perfect alpha,” Steve sighed happily in return. He brought up their joined hands to lightly nuzzle against them, placing a soft kiss of his own over Eddie’s knuckles.

He knew they would need to talk more, would need to figure out all of the logistics of their changed circumstances and new roles, but he couldn’t find the strength to care at the moment. He was nestled in his future mate’s arms, bound together in the most intimate way imaginable, and he knew that whatever may come their way, they could handle it. Together.

“Samwise.”

Steve blinked in confusion, his alpha’s sudden voice pulling him from the dozing slumber he’d been slipping into. “What?”

“For our first pup. I like the name Samwise. It can be a middle name too.”

Though still confused about the name, something warm fluttered deep in Steve’s chest at the idea of Eddie already looking forward to their first pup together. First, Eddie had said. A sleepy smile tugged at his lips.

“What if it’s a girl?” he lightly teased, though having never heard the name before, he supposed that it could go either way.

“Elanor, obviously,” Eddie snorted, kissing the back of Steve’s neck, causing him to shiver, clenching around the knot and still hard cock inside him. Eddie let out a small hiss at that, his arm underneath Steve to hold him close tightening as he rocked his hips against Steve’s ass.

“Hmm,” Steve said after a breathless moan. “Sam and Elanor. I’m not opposed, though I get to name the next ones.”

Eddie let out a soft, almost disbelieving chuckle. His toasted marshmallow scent bloomed with his happiness. “I look forward to it, sweetheart.”

Steve slowly slid Eddie’s hand still clasped in his lower, clenching again as he felt his pussy pulse in response. “Maybe we should get some practice in, first,” he whispered, his words becoming a soft gasp at the end as Eddie’s fingers obediently began to lightly probe at his folds.

“As you wish,” Eddie quietly breathed, and while Steve knew that they really did need to talk about their future, as well as eventually clean up and preferably shower, he found himself instead basking in the sticky sweet scent of his beloved.

Hello again everyone! So I might have disappeared for a bit due to unfortunate circumstances but I am doing my best to get back into fandom shape so that I can enjoy these lovable idiots with you all again. I hope this story makes up for my absence some!

note: the original Marshmallow story was written for my beloved @scoops-aboy86 based on one of her prompts, while this continuation was an idea sparked by the lovely @curiouserstrangeone (EmOfCrows on ao3) so I hope this satisfies the both of you 😉

Hostage Hotties (open):

@derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @scoops-aboy86 @dotdot-weirdlife @everywherenothere @bumblebeecuttlefishes @hiei-harringtonmunson

Fic tag: @mugloversonly (you wanted to be tagged for the first one so tagging you here too jic)

#steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #plot thots #fic: marshmallow

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quintessenceofdust88 · 2 days ago

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fuck it friday

(I STILL HAVE HALF AN HOUR OF FRIDAY OK SO I'M TECHNICALLY ON TIME) I was tagged by my darling @laundryandtaxesworld for this. Love you, Via! ♥ I've been working a bit on all of my fanfics the last few days, and I think I might get the groove of writing constantly again, so here's hoping hehe. For today, I'm bringing you the final part of ch. 1 of my fanfic Trail of Lies , so I hope you enjoy it! ♥ (USUAL WARNING FOR TRAIL OF LIES: THIS FANFIC CONTAINS BUDDIE, BUT IT IS BUCKTOMMY ENDGAME. IT STARTS OFF AS BUDDIE, BUT IT’S NOT REALLY BUDDIE-FRIENDLY NOR PARTICULARLY EDDIE-FRIENDLY. Therefore, I didn’t want to tag it as Buddie, because I know how annoying it can be to have ‘anti’ fics in your ship’s tag. If that’s sth that bothers you - either the Buddie content or the fact it’s not really a good depiction of their relationship - please feel free to skip this one, I absolutely understand)

The restaurant Eddie’s chosen is cozy and quiet, with exposed brick walls and dim lighting, a far cry from the usual burger joints where they go together on the rare occasions they go out. Buck understands the gesture for what it is, and he feels incredibly touched, and kind of bad for the doubts he shared with Bobby. It’s clear Eddie was just having a bad day, and it was unfair of Buck to question his excitement for their family because of it.

Their meal is delicious, and so is the wine. They start the evening with small talk, and it’s fluid and smooth like it always is with them. He and Eddie were best friends before anything else, and Buck values that aspect of their relationship so much. Even though he’s aching to broach up the topic that’s been on his mind for the last few days, he waits. He wants Eddie to bring it up.

“So, angel,” Eddie says eventually, putting down his wine glass and smiling at him, that smile that sweeps Buck off his feet. “Tell me what you found out about surrogates? Do you think it’s gonna work for us?”

Buck finds himself beaming widely at Eddie’s question. ‘For us’. That’s all he’s ever wanted, for the baby to be their plan.

“Yeah, babe, I think it will” Buck says, and doesn’t stop himself from talking this time.

He goes on a rant about all the options he found online and about how California law works for surrogacy cases. And while usually Eddie indulges Buck in his rants, listening and nodding at the appropriate times, now he’s engaged, he’s asking questions, he’s planning with him, and Buck’s heart feels full. “Before we go on about our surrogacy options, babe, shouldn’t we decide who’s going to be the biological father?” Eddie asks, taking a sip of his wine. “I mean… I have Chris, so if you want to do it, I totally understand”

“Actually, about that, there’s this thing they do at the fertility clinic where they mix up our materials”, Buck explains excitedly, kinda wishing he had his tablet there to show Eddie everything he has saved. “I… I kinda like the idea of watching our baby grow up and not knowing to which one of us he’s biologically related.”

Eddie gives him a beautiful smile at that, squeezing his hand once more. That’s the farthest he goes when it comes to public displays of affection, so to Buck it feels almost like a passionate kiss (or he wants it to, anyway).

“Yeah, angel, I kinda like that idea too.” He declares. “Well, I guess that leaves us to decide the surrogate matter. I gotta be honest, Buck, I’m not sure about the whole agency thing. Feels kinda…”

“Impersonal?” Buck completes, and Eddie nods, to his relief. “Yeah, I thought so too. I really like the idea of it being someone we know, but I’m not sure who to ask”

Buck has given the matter a lot of thought in the last few days, his mind going through the women he knows and to whom he’d feel comfortable asking something like that. His first instinct, as most things in his life, would be asking Maddie, and he knows his sister would say yes. But Buck can’t do that to her, not when she had such a difficult time after Jee-Yun’s pregnancy. His niece is one year old and only now Maddie seems to be recovering, and Buck can’t risk doing that to her; can’t risk being the reason why she finds herself in that place again, and especially for a baby she won’t even keep.

And with Maddie out of the equation, Buck is at a loss. He would never ask Hen, he knows she has no interest in being pregnant, and he knows all about Karen’s struggles and how that is a sensitive subject for her. He had briefly thought about May, but she’s way too young and has far too much going on in her life for a pregnancy to uproot it.

He relays all of those thoughts to Eddie, who listens intently, and then goes silent for a while. Buck goes silent himself, his mind frantically trying to figure out if he let anyone out, when Eddie talks.

“I think I might know someone. We… we work together at the store, and we get along. I think she might be willing. It… It could be an option” He says, and Buck frowns, trying to remember if Eddie ever mentioned having a particularly close relationship to any of the store workers before, but coming up blank. Still, he doesn’t think his boyfriend would be inconsequential about something as important as their baby, so if this woman came to his mind, there must be a reason.

“Oh? What’s her name?” He asks curiously.

“Kim. Her name is Kim.”

Np tagging @bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @moonydanny @frogsinflannel and anyone else who'd like to join! If it's already Saturday on your timezone, feel free to consider this an Inspiration Saturday tag. Love you ♥

#bucktommy #<- target audience and endgame ship #evan buckley #NOT eddie diaz friendly #trail of lies #gabby writes #fuck it friday

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millenniallust4death · 2 days ago

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katie pladl anon, ive been here since we called david karp daddy and the scalene triangle days so please dont condescend to me. blacklisting tags has been around forever through tumblr, and before that through xkit. its not like im asking something newfangled or unreasonable, its a longstanding feature of the site. i love the block and unfollow buttons too, im not an idiot, but ive been following you for ages and like everything else you post so i figured i would ask first (tho not as politely as i could have since its clearly a triggering topic for me), but clearly i got my (condescending) answer. have a nice life

Anyone who has followed me for ages should understand that I blog strictly for myself — and that includes my tags (#but you get what you get here). I took time out of my life, before coffee and capitalism, to explain why Katie’s story resonated with me. You might not have liked my response to your message, but it was sincere and honest.

Unfollowing me is a great decision — it’s setting a healthy boundary and curating your online experience. I don’t understand why unfollowing someone is seen as the ultimate door slam. I LOVE when people nope out of the Laura experience. I’m on Tumblr dot com to be my authentic self and scream into the void, not to build an audience.

Martin and Bosco’s post has brought me so many wonderful blessings, but it’s also exposed my "private diary" to an uncomfortably large audience. Do you know how many random strangers constantly ask me to tag posts about my actual, real life because they find it traumatic? ("I can't believe you didn't have a trigger warning that the dog died!") My viewpoint is pretty bleak and messy. Worrying and censoring myself to make my blog more appealing to random strangers just isn’t a service I’m willing to offer. It’s totally okay if how I moderate my blog isn’t right for you.

#ask Laura #but you get what you get here #see previous tag #i really mean it

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eeunoia · 7 hours ago

Text

ENHYPEN Series

sinag | psh.

chapter thirteen

pairings: park sunghoon x reader

synopsis: waiting for a great plot twist in your life, the ruthless and powerful mafia boss park sunghoon forced his way in to it.

word count: 3k

warnings: contains harrassment, violence, guns, killings, abuse, obsessive love & other stuff. if you can't take this stuff, feel free to scroll away. let me know if i missed some. (please be responsible and avoid fics that contains warnings that can trigger you.)

note: reblogs and replies are highly encouraged. i truly appreciate your messages to me. it keeps me going. please leave comments and tags when you reblog! thank you so much, stay safe and ily!

Your eyes stings from crying too much. What happened last night kept lingering back in your mind. How Sunghoon just shot that poor man dead with no mercy. You couldn’t help but to blame yourself. It was you who asked for his help.

Sunghoon was inside your room while you pretend to be asleep. It was mid night when you heard the faint sound of the room’s door opening. Fear instantly took over you and decided to just act like as if you are fast asleep.

He was silent. It was pretty hard to tell if he’s still inside the room since his movements are very quiet. It took him a few minutes before he approach your bed and pull your sheets up to your shoulder. He didn’t do anything else, just that.

After he left, the terrifying scene haunted you 'til morning. It was impossible to fall asleep as it only takes you back to what happened back at the restaurant. The face of that poor man breaks your heart. The way his eyes flashes fear and slowly drains out of life.

You shut your eyes and rests your head on your knees, tears once again streaming down your face.

The door then suddenly bursted open making you jump on your place, pulling you back to reality. You scooted closer to the bed’s headboard when you realize that it was Sunghoon. He’s wearing his white polo, eyes looking dead cold.

“G-Get out!” you screamed right at him.

He’s not surprised. Sunghoon expected this type of behavior from you. He knew that what you just witnessed was probably too much for you. His sweet angel... You’re surely ain’t prepared for that one.

He’ll be honest, he felt a pinch of regret from what he did. Not because he felt bad for killing that man, but because it terrified you. He can’t help but to blame that old man for being too nosy and laying his hands on you. How dare him?

He kept silent, doesn’t really want to make the situation worst of to terrify you even more. He sighs and signalled something to his men.

Your eyes looked wary, attented on what’s about to happen.

A maid then entered holding a tray of food. Your eyes trailed back to Sunghoon and he’s still staring right at you. He doesn’t seem bothered or even regretful of anything. It makes you wonder how evil this guy is. To actually not feel anything after just ending someone’s life is alarming.

“Eat your breakfast. I’ll be leaving for work.” he says. You remained silent and just kept your shooting glares at him.

“Don’t even think of trying to escape since this mansion is full of security.” he warned.

Your jaw clenched, “Or else what? You’re going to kill me too?” your sarcasm filled every words.

Sunghoon kept his stares and then tilted his head over to the side. He scoffed with no humor that sent instant chills down your spine.

“You know I’ll never hurt you.”

He said it with so much sincerity, but after what you just witnessed last night, the fear for your life is your main concern.

Sunghoon wanted to approach and kiss you, but he thought it may be too much for now so he just left the room.

The moment he stepped out from the same room you finally started breathing properly. Whenever he’s around, your chest feels heavy and fear just takes the most of you.

“Miss, you should have your breakfast.” the lady that entered holding your food caught your attention.

The tension from a while ago is too much to bear that you even forgot that she’s still here. You glanced at the food and can’t find the appetite to eat.

“I don’t want to.” you glanced away and just stared blankly outside the big windows of the room. The weather looked fine and if its normal days, you would’ve want to be outside and walk around. But your heart felt heavy, eyes starting to burn once again.

—

“You what?!” Jake’s frantic voice filled the room after hearing what just happened.

“So it was you last night...” Heeseung’s smirking while reaching for the cup of coffee that Sunghoon’s secretary just prepared for them.

“Last night? What’s up last night?” some of their eyes darted at the door when Jay entered. As usual, he was running late.

“Sunghoon hyung went crazy and shoot someone dead.” Sunoo says and sighs. He’s not totally surprised about it, just a little disappointed.

Jay scoffs as he takes his sit, “What’s new with Sunghoon going crazy?”

Jungwon shakes his head with a small smirk on his lips, “How is she? I’m sure she didn’t took that well.”

Sunghoon sighs and throws his head back before shutting his eyes close. He already knew that, but now that his friends are rubbing it to his face makes him feel a bit dumb for his actions.

“Dude, Aelia’s life is very different from ours. Its not normal for her to see guns and all these. You have to take it easy.” Jake says, trying to lecture his friend.

“Jake’s right, Sunghoon. It took a while before Bri even got used to it.” Heeseung added.

“Wait wait wait...” Jay stood beside the chair he was suppose to occupy. He glanced over his friends then continued talking.

“You mean Sunghoon did all that in front of that girl?” he asks, trying to confirm the issue.

Jake rolls his eyes. “That’s what you get for being late.” he commented silently that Jay ignored.

“She has a name and its Aelia.” Sunghoon spat like its the most important thing that needs to be addressed.

Jay chuckles, a little bit amused. He’s the only one who seemed to be enjoying what he just heard.

“You just found her and already scaring the shit out of her? Man, that sucks.” Jay commented that made Sunghoon glare at him.

“I know I fucked up. What do I have to do?” he asks clicking his tongue.

Jake can’t help but to purse his lip and take time to sink in what he just heard from his friend. Is he really asking for advice? That’s not so him.

Usually Sunghoon will not even give a damn for an adivise. He will just carry on to what he thinks is best to do at the situation.

“Give her time, hyung.” Jungwon.

“You know I’m impatient.” Sunghoon throws right away, fingers tapping nonstop on the table.

“You managed to wait for her for years without being sure that she actually exist. It won’t hurt to wait for her now.” Jake.

The other guys agrees with him and even tells Sunghoon to calm down. They know their friend too well. If he doesn’t get what he wants, he gets reckless. That’s the last thing he will want to do at this situation.

He remains silent, but his breathing were heavy. Heeseung smiles and rest his cup on the table. “I know you’re probably feeling so excited now that you’ve found her, Hoon. Don’t let this overwhelming feelings be the reason for you to lose her.” his words strung deep inside Sunghoon.

He was silent. Just letting his friends advices sink deep to his system. He’s not really the type to listen from other people, but they are his friends. If there are people who knew him the best, it would be them.

Also this is the first time he will deal with someone he actually wants to keep in his life other than his friends so he really needs their help. All he’s good at is scaring people out and getting rid of them, but he doesn’t want to do any of that with you.

He nods his head as an answer and to let them know he understands. Jake smiles then clap his shoulder once before diverting the topic into something else. Despite the start of another conversation, Sunghoon’s thoughts are all filled with you.

—

“Miss...” your eyes drifted over the two maids that walked inside your room.

The look of concern over their faces are evident. Its been a whole day and you’ve declined eating any food. They are worried and at the same time scared of what the consequences may be, not for you but for them.

“You have to eat. Mr. Park strictly told us not to starve you.” desperation leaks through her tone. One familiar emotion flashes through her eyes. Fear. Is that how everyone around Sunghoon looked? Scared?

“Do you want anything? Any food you want perhaps?” one even encourages.

You pursed your lips. “I w-want to go home.” you mumbled so lowly, enough for them to hear.

The two maids exchanged glances. They do feel bad. Looking at your state, they feel bad. They wanted to help, but what can they do? They cannot risk their own life to save yours.

“I’m afraid w-we can’t grant that, Miss.”

Of course they can’t. You gulped and teared your gaze off of them. Why did you even say those words? Obviously these people are in no position to help you in any way. Well, they can try but that will cost them their life.

You should’ve learned already. What happened last night should not happen ever again. It was so cruel and traumatizing. You can’t afford having somebody else' life gone because of you.

An alarm blaze from outside the mansion and spending a few days here already familiarize you of what it means. Their heads whipped at the direction of your window faced in front of the mansion.

The color on their faces drained as you hear the faint sound of the main gate opening.

“It’s the boss.” one mumbles while her fingers visibly shaking.

Your heart swells, feeling totally guilty that they will be punished because of you.

“Just tell him that I’m the one who refused to eat.” was what you blurted, making them look at your direction.

They don’t seem amused or relaxed of what they heard from you. Its like it won’t solve anything. Who are you fooling? You are as powerless as them.

“W-What will we do? We’re in big trouble.” she panics, the younger one. Her eyes shakes and visibly tremble.

Her eyes darted at you and for a split second you saw how it glared at you. You gulped, feeling so bad now that they will definitely shoulder your stubborness.

“I’m s-sorry.”

The older one pursed her lips and remained silent, though you can still see that she’s as scared as her. The one beside her clenched her fists and opens her mouth, about to say something when the door bursts open.

You jolted and hugged your knees in a balled position once again. Eyes fixed at the entrance waiting for him to walk inside. Two men entered first and then Sunghoon.

The two maids bows their heads looking very terrified. Despite the fear from this gorgeous man, you’ve had the urge to stand up for them. It was you who refused to eat so there’s no reason for another person to shoulder it once again.

His eyes are darted at you, cold and hard to read. No words came out from his mouth, but instead his eyes moved over to the tray of untouched foods.

Terror flickers through the maid’s eyes.

“W-We tried to make her eat, Mr. Park.” the younger one already said it even before he can ask something.

His eyes moved towards her and they were terrifying for her. Colour drains off of her face as she grew paler, head lowering while fidgeting over her trembling hands.

“I’m t-the one who refused to eat! Don’t take it against them.”

You are afraid of him. That’s not even enough to describe what you feel towards the gorgeous man in front of your bed. Great. He’s so evil and yet you still manage to call him gorgeous. You’re really going insane because of him.

Sunghoon glanced at you and contemplates. His friends' words of advice flashing through his mind for a moment before he tries his best to calm down. They are all right. He should take it slow. If he wanted you to keep you, he needs you to slowly absorb this lifestyle. Its a lot, but he won’t give you any other choice.

“Alright.” he says shortly.

The two maids raised their heads in surprise. Did they really heard their boss obey somebody?

On the other hand, even if you’re caught off guard that he really did listened to you, it didn’t made you fear him less. He’s still the man who just randomly gunned someone down last night.

Sunghoon then instruct them to leave and give you two some privacy. As they disappear one by one, you panicked. The last thing you want is to be left alone with him.

Words didn’t come out from your lips. They were sealed shut as you try to stop them from shaking. Your eyes left the door after the last bodyguard closes it and then your gaze diverted towards Sunghoon.

His intimidating eyes are watching you already.

“Why didn’t you eat your food?” he asks, tone sounding strict.

You refused to talk and felt your eyes slowly watering.

Realizing that you ain’t going to respond to him, he strains a heavy sigh.

“Its useless to be stubborn, Aelia. You are stuck here with me.” his eyes pierced right through you, letting you know that nothing will ever change that.

“So you either start accepting your fate or test my patience and see where things can go.” it was surely a threat. He said it so calmly, but you felt threatened.

“I don’t w-want any of these! I want you to let me go! I want to go back to my family! I want to see my parents! I want to go back to my normal life! I want to go home!” you screamed at him, tears streaming down your face.

Sunghoon clenched his jaw. The fact that you’re rejecting him and thinking that you can get away from him pisses the hell out of him. Why would you think he will ever let you go? Never.

Regardless, he pulls his shit together and decided that he needs to leave you be for tonight. He doesn’t want to lose his patience and cause you more damage.

“This is your home.” he says with a stern and cold voice.

He stared at you for a while before he turns his back to leave you be for tonight. You burst into tears as you hugged yourself that night.

permanent tag-list:

@rubyanne @map-of-border @hwangjangmi @13tter @candewlsy @simpforniki @classicroyalty @hime98 @moonsclassyslore @ddeonubaby @yeoungie @acciomylove @mymeloem19 @jvngw0n @dreamjerky @minamoons @clar-iii @herasalvatore @nyfwyeonjun @rcveribin @yizhoutv @one16core @soobin-chois @kyutiepeachy @chareadingpurposes @hwalllllllelujah @solelyenha @90sni-ki @nourhan-8 @nikipedia07 @yangbreads @drunkjazed @axartia @all4haru @sta-rie @purplepuppychild @iceeee @wtfhyuck @tobiosbbyghorl @nikililmj @ayayiiie @aeyeree @heeseung-min @in-somnias-world @psh-pjh @hveanlyanqelic @dimplewonie @firstclassjaylee

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen yande #enhypen x reader #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon yandere #enhypen sunghoon x reader #enhypen sunghoon imagines

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