#i just hold her and stare at her all day long

[smutoperator]

Out Of Her Cage

Kim Chaewon x Male Reader, Original Character

Kinkvember Chapter 4

Main kinks: bondage, daddy kink, double penetration, wax play

Word count: 4346.

Chaewon wasn't always like this, but over the years, she has increasingly searched for new sexual experiences to satisfy herself. Each day that passes, she gets hornier and hornier. At this point, her nymphomania is well known, and she doesn't care if it's getting in her way of leading her own group.

One of her favorite new hobbies these days is going to fetish clubs, dressing herself in skimpy leather outfits, and performing inside a cage, where she's a roaring tiger but, once out, becomes a submissive puppy to her masters.

Chaewon shakes her ass in anticipation as she stares at you inside the cage she's in. You happen to be the first client of the night, and she's always keen to get things going.

You kneel down and tease her, holding the cage keys in your hands and grabbing the chain from the choker she wears around her neck. "Are you going to be an obedient pet, my little pupu?" you ask her. "Yes, sir, yes, master," Chaewon answers. You tease her a little bit, touching the keys against the cage's bars, before shoving your thumb in her little mouth, only after that freeing her from the cage.

Chaewon crawls and gets up as you grab her. "I'm so horny tonight," she says as you hold her by the neck. "Get down and bend over," you say to her as Chaewon lays her hands on the top of the cage she was just fred from. Obviously, the first thing you do is spank her ass. "OHHHHHH," she screams. "Yessss," she says when you do it a second time. 

You touch Chaewon's hot body, getting her increasingly horny. More spanking follows, and she loves it, moaning sexily each time you hit her cute ass. "Yes, baby, spank my ass," she begs. Chaewon turns around, kissing you as she grinds her body against yours, focusing especially on your manhood area as she rubs her clothed pussy against your pants.

You grab Chaewon right at the gap between her thighs, teasing her clothed pussy as you run your hands over her panties. It doesn't take long for you to reach under them, massaging her little pussy and making more moans come out of her mouth. 

"Oh my God," Chaewon moans as you mercilessly finger her vagina. "Yes, please, keep going," she whispers as you touch her pussy, turning herself into a begging puppy for you, who quickly feeds the juices of her cunt into her mouth, watching her moans get muffled by your massive hand.

Chaewon gets on her knees and gives your pants some licks. She's really horny for your cock, licking your balls before they even come out of your pants. You take advantage of her horniness, taking your belt off and wrapping it around her neck. "Breathe through that fucking dick," you tell her, smothering Chaewon's face with your pants.

"I need your cock; please give it to me," Chaewon begs as you finish choking her with the belt, jumping like a puppy wanting a bone. You unzip your pants and shove it on her tongue, Chaewon closing her eyes and opening her mouth wide as you toy with it, giving her mouth some cock-slapping as you stroke it too.

"I want to be a good puppy; please use me," Chaewon begs as you shove your cock deeper in her mouth; she grabs it and licks your shaft. "That's so perfect," Chaewon says, quickly moving with a fast-paced blowjob, stroking it hard with one hand while massaging your balls with the other. "Yes," you say as Chaewon rubs your dick all over her face like a horny puppy.

You can't resist the urge to pound Chaewon's mouth, the warmth of it being felt all over your veiny cock. "Oh my God," you groan as you hit deep in her throat, making her gag. "Get up, puppy," you tell her afterwards, as Chaewon keeps stroking your cock. You take her mask off and choke her as she keeps jerking you off before diving down for more crazy cock sucking. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you scream.

Chaewon dives under your balls and licks them hard as you stroke your shaft. "Yes, be a nasty whore; lick my balls like a good puppy," you tell her, shoving her face against your shaft and making her sniff it. "That's it," you say, praising her ball-licking skills.

"I'll be Daddy's nasty little whore," Chaewon says. "Then come here," you tell her, bending her against the cage and pulling her panties down, quickly pushing your cock against her pussy. "Ohhh, daddy's big cock is stretching me so good already," Chaewon says as you are just barely halfway inside her. You grab Chaewon's ass for better grip as you pound her pussy fast, the tightness of her hole making you take a big effort to fuck her. You put her leg on top of the cage and pick up the speed. "Shhhhh," you say as she moans.

"Sit down," you order to Chaewon as she opens her legs while getting on top of the cage, fingering her pussy for you, who quickly dive to eat her out. "Holy shit, that's so fucking good," Chaewon says as you tongue her folds. "Daddy's tongue is the best," Chaewon moans as you lick her cunt like a maniac, her getting overwhelmed by the stimulation as you make her body shake hard.

You grab Chaewon once again by the chain on her neck; she tries to stroke your cock, but you quickly tame her, turning her around and spanking her face while she grinds her ass on your dick. You lay on top of the cage, where Chaewon had already arrenged a pillow and a mattress for more sex. She gets on all fours and sucks your cock a little more, giving you a great view of her ass.

"Come here," you say after Chaewon finishes savoring your cock. She gets on yop of you, and you guide your cock to her pussy, pounding her from down low and then letting her ride it perfectly as you caress and spank her ass. "Oh my God," she moans, riding you very hard as you suck her perky tits and dancing on your cock as if she were performing on stage.

"Fuck, you're going to drain me," you say to Chaewon, making her slow down as you two passionately make out. You then pick up the pace, firmly gabbing her butt as you fuck her pussy hard. "Yes, daddy, kill this puppy pussy good," Chaewon moans. You get up and sit on the mattress, letting her grind on your cock. "It's so good," Chaewon says, before you switch to a spooning position, opening her legs and making sexy eye contact with her as you fuck her slow and massage her boobs.

Chaewon pants and moans as your cock speeds up the pumps in her pussy and your balls smack hard against her skin. You then surprise her, staying in the same position and switching to her ass. You reach to increase your grip over Chaewon's tits. "Daddy, go slow, please; your cock is too big for my ass," Chaewon begs, as you are already balls deep buried in her butt. "That's good, that's good," she claims.

Quickly, your slow thrusts give way to fast poundings. "Be an obedient puppy and let daddy fuck your big ass," you say to Chaewon, putting your hands in her mouth. "I'm going to shove my hands in your fucking little mouth while I fuck your fucking asshole like that, understood, little puppy?" you ask her. "Isn't it good?" you keep asking, slapping her face.

"Yes, daddy, fuck that little ass, oh yes, that dick is so fucking good, daddy," Chaewon repeats as she moans. You once again stop a bit and whisper dirty words in her ear. You kiss her and pick up the speed, your legs moving really fast as you pound her ass, and she fingers her pussy.

"Holy shit, holy shit, daddy fucks his little puppy so good," Chaewon says in an infantile voice as she receives a huge anal drilling. You sit down a bit and let her climb out of her cock to taste her own butthole, which she happily enjoys as she sucks and jerks your cock off furiously. "Such a dirty puppy mouth," you say to Chaewon, who gets even nastier and rims your asshole and then puts your balls fully in her mouth.

Chaewon gets on all fours on the top of the cage as you get ready for another round in her ass, pounding her fast and hard. "Daddy is going to put that dick all the way deep in that asshole," you say to her as Chaewon turns into a moaning mess as you get more and more addicted to fucking her asshole.

"So good, such a fucking tight ass," you say to Chaewon as you spank her butt once again; she keeps moaning a lot. "Get down," you say as she lowers her head and follows your orders. "Yes, daddy," she obliges as you once again slow down and enjoy the tightness of her ass.

"I love being a good whore for Daddy's dick," Chaewon says as you keep hitting her butt with more and more slaps. The little puppy rolls her eyes as you get deep in her butthole. "Oh fuck, I'm all the way," you say as your tip reaches the depths of Chaewon's pink anus and her tight asshole squeezes your cock.

"I'm ready to destroy that little ass and make you my little pet," you tell Chaewon, getting on top of her like a bull and manhandling her butthole. "Fuck daddy, that dick is hitting me so deep," Chaewon says. "Yes, daddy, keep fucking me like that," Chaewon says. You only get crazier, punishing her butt with deep and fast poundings like a madman. 

"Spread it for me," you tell Chaewon, pulling out and marveling at the wonderful big gape in her anus. You dive in and sniff her butthole, which she enjoys a lot. Chaewon lays on the mattress and keeps spreading her butthole. "I want that cock back inside me; please, Daddy, give it back to me," she begs. You give it back to her just as she asks, her ass still very tight as you struggle to put even your tip in. 

"Oh fuck," you groan as her anus clenches your tip right from the get-go. "I love how good you luck with my big cock in your little asshole, oh my god," you tell Chaewon. You switch a bit to her pussy, keeping the same consistent pace. "Oh my god, it's so fucking amazing. Thank you for fucking me like a good pet," Chaewon says. You order her to get back on her knees and use her tongue to clean your cock. "Move that mouth; I wanna see how nasty you can get," you say, jerking your cock against her face while she sniffs your balls and rims your asshole.

"Perfect, now get up and come here," you tell Chaewon, grabbing her neck and pinning her against the cage while she masturbates herself. You two tenderly kiss each other as Chaewon starts squirting. "My holes are itching for your fucking cock, daddy," Chaewon says.

But first, you can't resist the urge of nutting in Chaewon's tummy, dropping a bit of cum all over her midriff. "I love the way you fire these ropes of sperm in my belly," she says as you keep stroking your cock while she rubs her pussy at the same rhythm. Your cock is quickly back up hard as you lie on top of the cage and let Chaewon sit her ass back on it. "Oh yes, perfect," you tell her as she impales herself on your dick.

Chaewon bounces her ass perfectly on your cock as you praise her. "Like that, like that, keep going, don't stop," you tell her, hitting her ass to ensure she keeps riding it. "YES, LIKE THAT," you groan as Chaewon sits on your dick balls deep in her ass. She keeps riding. "Daddy is so deep in my ass; I love it," she says, moving into a straight bounce. "Come on, come on," you say, spanking her ass and begging Chaewon to pick up more speed. "Holy shit, holy shit," she says. "Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah, fuck, fuck fuck," you groan as Chaewon goes faster and faster.

Chaewon bends over and keeps riding. "Show me that ass," you tell her. She twerks on your cock and puts you on the edge of cumming. "Good girl, go all the way," you command her as Chaewon arches her back and bounces. You push your cock up to match her riding. "You're so pretty sitting on that cock; I love the way you move up and don't it; I don't want you to stop; that's the way, baby; that's how you're going to make me cum so hard when you move like that," you say to her. 

Indeed, it doesn't take long for you to come over and start jerking your cock off in Chaewon's face in anticipation. "Let me see that pretty face right there, ohhhhh," you say, and then start glazing her face with cum. "Look at that," you say as the streaks of your cum cover her face like they are forming a tiger mustache. "Every last drop for me, daddy," Chaewon says as she licks the tip of your dick and cleans you off before offering you a proposal.

"My next client is coming in a few minutes; I want you to join him in the other room, but first, get dressed," she says. "Sure," you tell her.

Chaewon switches to a slim white outfit and teases you and Zac, the other client. Both of you grab her petite body and tie her to an X-cross. You kiss her libs while Zac sucks her tits and runs his hands down her pussy, pulling her pussy to the side. "Look what we have here, some pretty pink pussy," you say. Both of you take turns sucking Chaewon's tits as she moans loudly. 

You and Zac come together and rip Chaewon's outfit and quickly pull your cocks out and rub them against her panties, before quickly pulling them down, already getting Chaewon completely naked. "Oh my God, ahhhh," she moans as Zac starts fingering her pussy and you grab her neck.

"Let's see if you can be our dirty girl tonight," you say to Chaewon. "Yes, daddy," she answers. Zac covers her body full of oil, and you help rub it all over her body. "Fuck, this is amazing," she says as you two then lick her tits together.

Zac sticks his fingers in Chaewon's pussy. "Fucking Godddddd," she moans as juices come out of her cunt. You stimulate her body with a violet wand, making it tremble. Zac then spanks her tits. "Thank you, Daddy, I need this so bad," Chaewon says to him. You keep using the violent wand to give Chaewon electric stimulation, even putting it in her tongue. "Thank you," she says. "Ohhh, bad girl," you tell her as you continue to electrocute her.

"How about some of that?" you ask Chaewon, bringing a cup of hot wax and pouring it over her body. "Ahhhhh," Chaewon moans as the hot liquid burns through her soft skin, and she loves it, especially when you pour the purple liquid over her tits. "How's that?" you ask her. "So good, Daddy," she answers.

"Let's turn her around," you say, giving Chaewon's butt more spanking. "Such pretty fucking holes," you tell Chaewon as you spread her ass and both of you take turns slapping her hutt. Chaewon lifts her legs. "You need some cock?" you ask her. "Yes, please," she begs.

You put your cock back in Chaewon's pussy. "Oh fuck," she moans. Zac looks at you two and jerks his cock off in anticipation for his turn as he whispers dirty words in Chaewon's ear and hits her ass while you pound her pussy. You then let Zac take his turn. "That's fucking perfect," you say. "Exactly what I needed," Chaewon answers as she moans.

"I need that big dick, thank you," Chaewon says as Zac fucks her pussy. "I'll be your fucking toy tonight; keep going," she whispers. You enjoy the spanking you keep giving her ass, waiting for your next turn, which comes soon, as Zac pulls out and both of you take turns licking her anus. 

"Look at this arch," you say, admiring Chaewon's ass as she bends over for another round of Zac's pussy pounding. You stick your cock in her mouth, beginning a spit-roasting session, before dropping down to toy with her body as Chaewon gets pounded. "I'm just a dirty little slut," she says. "Yes, you are, and we are going to use all your fucking holes tonight," you tell her.

Zac pulls Chaewon's hair and gives her a fast-paced standing doggy fuck. "Yes, fuck fuck fuck, like that, like that," she begs, diving to suck your cock hard as she gets pounded from behind. You and Zac fuck Chaewon's face and pussy in perfect sync. "Fuck, that dick is so good," Chaeown says, getting down to both rods in her mouth and bobb her head on them like an addict. "Thank you for those big cocks," Chaewon says, getting very sloppy and dropping all her saliva over them, letting it run down her tits as she takes.

"Where do these fucking dicks belong?" both of you ask her. "In my mouth at the same time," Chaewon says, taking on them at the same time and then rubbing both over her face. "I'm so addicted to those big fucking cocks," she says, moaning.

You push Chaewon against your cock as she gags on it. "Do you want some more?" Zac responds, fucking her face hard. "Stand up," you tell her as Zac lifts Chaewon's legs for you to fuck her pussy. "Such a good whore," he says, angling Chaewon's head down and filling it with his own cock. "Oh fuck," you say as Chaewon's pussy tightness still surprises you even after a long session. You and Zac spit roast her hard, you tying her arms up and clapping her cheeks while Zac pounds her face. Chaewon turned into nothing but a cocksleeve.

You two free Chaewon from the cross, bringing a matress where she gets on all fours. She bobs her head on Zac's cock while you lick her butthole. You quickly fill Chaewon's little pussy as she bounces her ass on your cock. "Such a perfect ass, fuck," you say, then grab her hair and booty and let her choke on Zac's cock until you make a proposal.

"Wanna ride his cock now and get double stuffed too?" you ask Chaewon.

"Yes, daddy, please," she answers. Zac lies on the mattress as Chaewon jerks his cock off before sitting on it. "Fuck," he groans. "Ohhh, look at that piece of work," you say, impressed with her fast bounce as you spank in her ass. "Are you ready to have another cock inside you?" you ask her. "Yes, always, Daddy," Chaewon answers as she moans.

"Please, please, stuff me, daddy, ahhhh," Chaewon moans as you get your cock in her ass, starting the double penetration session. "Where do these fucking dicks belong?" Zac asks her again. "In my fucking holes, that's so good," Chaewon answers as she rolls her eyes.

"You like getting double stuffed?" Zac asks Chaewon as he sucks her tits and you thurst into her ass. "Yeah, yeah," she answers, moaning. "Hply shit, holy shity," Chaewon repeats as she bounces on both cocks. "Perfect, that's how you ride it, baby; don't fucking stop," you tell her, spanking her butt once again.

"OH MY GOD, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," Chaewon screams. Both of you fuck her holes in perfect sync. Zac chokes her as you tease Chaewon. "Look how fucking deep we are on that fucking pussy and asshole," you say. "Yeah, that's good, hitting my slutty holes deep, OH MY GOD, thank you, daddy," Chaewon says as you two keep double stuffing her. 

"Pull those cheeks back; let me see all the action," you tell Chaewon as she spreads her ass. "I can't believe I'm taking both these big cocks in my holes, holy shit," she moans. "Pleae don't stop, pleae don't stop, I'm dying for this," Chaewon begs as both of you pick up the pace and make your balls slap against her skin. "FUCKKKK, I'm cumming all over those dicks; look what you are doing to me, Daddy, keep going deep in my pussy and ass," she claims, rolling her eyes.

"That's exactly what you wanted, slut?" you ask her. "Yes, daddy, that's what I liked, getting plugged by both those big cocks in my tight holes, hmmmmm," she says. "YESSSSS," Chaewon suddenly screams as you get more animalesque, mounting on top of her and stuffing your cock deep in her anus, thrusting hard as your balls make contact with Zac's shaft sitting idle in her pussy.

"Holy shit, I love that; it's so fucking big," Chaewon says as you can't stop thrusting your cock in her ass. "I love it," Chaewon moans as Zac joins and starts thrusting up her pussy real fast, both balls hitting each other now. "Thank you for stuffing me so good on both my fucking gaping holes; I'm a big fucking whore who can take it all," Chaewon says.

"Come on, suck our dicks," you demand to Chaewon, who obliges like an obedient pet. She dives on Zac's cock to taste her pussy, jerking yours off in anticipation and then taking both balls deep in her mouth before taking. "Oh my God, I'm fucking spoiled by all those cocks today," Chaewon moans as she gets sloppy with both your dicks. "Wanna sit your ass on him next?" you ask her, getting her up. "Of course," she says.

You push Chaewon's asshole against Zac's cock as he fucks her in a standing position. "He's already so deep in my ass," Chawewon says as you choke her. "Yes, all the way up your ass, like you wanted, little whore," you say to her as Zac keeps clapping her cheeks while you rub your hands on her body. "FUCK, HE'S GOING SO HARD IN MY ASS," Chaewon screams, but you just don't care, sucking her tits and choking her.

Zac gets back on the mattress as Chaewon bounces her ass on his cock really fast. "Yeah, that fucking ass can take it," Chaewon says. "Yes, ride that cock, ride until you show you deserve to get two dicks inside you," you tell her. "Yes, daddy, look at how hard I ride him; I want you to join and get inside me too; I need your dick again," she replies.

Chaewon opens her legs for you to get your cock in her pussy. "That dick in my pussy and my ass feels so good," she moans as both of you compete to see who goes deeper in each of her holes. "Fuck, that's amazing, so amazing," Chaewon says. You groan as you attack her pussy. "That's going to make me fucking cum," Chaewon says as she moans harder. You put her chin up, making her stare at you.

"I love the way you fuck me like that; it's fucking incredible," Chaewon says as you thrust so hard Zac's cock pulls out of her ass. "That's all I want to be, a little fucking slut with dick all over my holes, a stupid fucking whore for those two big cocks," she continues. You muffle her by shoving your hand in her mouth.

"How does that feel?" you ask Chaewon. "So good, I can't even think; I've just turned into a brainless fucking whore," she answers. The double penetration continues. "This is what I am meant for," Chaewon says as both of you keep stuffing your cocks in both her holes. "All I want is to be a perfect fucking whore for those big perfect cocks," she claims.

"Come down and suck our dicks again," you command to Chaewon. "Ye, yes, yes," she endlessly repeats, getting on her knees to taste her fuckholes, rubbing both cocks tips against her face, touching them against each other, and putting both in her mouth at the same time.

"Get up and put that ass up for me to fuck it again," you say as Chaewon obliges and you mount on top of her while she enjoys Zac's prick in her mouth. "You're such a dirty fucking cunt, Chaewon," you say to her. "Yes, I am," it's all she answers. Zac also comes in from behind and fills Chaewon's pussy, making her go back to getting double stuffed.

"OH MY GOD FUCK, AHHHHHH," Chaewon screams as both of you take her balls deep, showing no mercy for her little fuckholes. "Do you want both your daddies cumming inside you at the same time?" you ask her. "Better, I want both of you breeding me at the same time like a good whore," Chaewon says.

You follow her orders and stick your cock in Chaewon's pussy along with Zac's. The tightness of her vaginal hole getting stuffed with two cocks is enough to make both of you last for only a minute, as both you and Zac explode inside Chaewon's cunt, enjoying the cum ooze out of it as both of you pull out. "Thank you, daddies; you two made me a happy whore tonight stuffing all my holes like that," Chaewon says. "I hope you two get back tomorrow for more; I'm so hungry," she finishes.

Indeed, you and Zac got back on the next day, only to find Chaewon back in her cage, this time putting it in a standing position as seven other guys surrounded her. 

"We were just waiting for you two to arrive; now we can start the gangbang," she says.

[adyophene]

Radiotrio day 6: Roleswap!

Alastor - Charlie

Husk - Vaggie

Niffty - Angeldust

Deets under cut!

"Alastor":

Alastor is actually Cain going under a pseudonym. He's trying to redeem sinners not out of the goodness of his heart, but as a fuck you towards Adam, his estranged deadbeat Father. He vaguely believes redemption is possible, but on the outside he gives off the vibe of thinking its nonsense. Eve, who is in hell, is the one payrolling the whole thing. As the first Sinner in hell she holds a bit of power. (Eve - Lucifer swap)

Al exclusively advertises the Hotel through radio commercials and jingles and doesn't really care that it is probably is why no one knows about it.

"Husk":

A fallen angel who always fucked off and drank and gambled during exterminations instead of killing sinners. When he caught his wings were chopped off and he was left for dead. Alastor found him and offered him a deal. Al would keep Husk's identity secret so long as Husk worked for him. Husk tried to refuse and goad Al into finishing him off, but was instead lured into a bet. He lost and became Al's right hand cat.

Husk doesn't believe in redemption at all. He is trapped in Heaven's mindset that once you fucked up you're done forever. He puts up with Al's antics with a heavy amount of booze.

Niffty:

Hell's favorite killing machine. Niffty is a weapons spokesperson working for Carmilla. She's recorded by a camera crew when she goes out to kill his rivals and its all pitched as a fun and brutal reality show with a star who revels in the thrill of the hunt. Niffty loves her craft and is extremely skilled, but is becoming burnt out. She suffers from an addiction to amphetamines to keep up her 'high energy camera persona'. (When exhausted she just ends up freezing out and staring into the camera ala the gag in the show.)

Niffty is ambivalent about redemption, but likes to stay at the hotel cause she likes Al and Husk, and because it gives her a break from work.

Charlie: A former human who made a deal with Lucifer so she could come down to hell and try to help the undeserving sinners there. She is absolutely ecstatic about the hotel and is all but overbearing in trying to help Alastor achieve his goal.

Vaggie: A sinner who went to hell for her 'extremely violent tendencies', despite the fact that all her actions were in the protection of herself and family/home. Charlie found her in the aftermath of a territory dispute, and after helping her/hearing about her backstory, all but glued Vaggie to her side. Vaggie doesn't believe in redemption, due to her guilt/shame over her violent past, but is dragged along by Charlie.

Angeldust:

Charlie's mysterious and excitable friend. Angel loves a good 'naughty boy' and doesn't so much as clean, but rather struts about posing in whatever meido costume he likes for the day. Charlie knows his past and is the reason he works at the hotel. She thinks he is a good candidate for redemption. Angel doesn't really care either way and is just happy for a shit easy job that he can dress up cute for and slack off all he likes!

I don't know when, but I might come back to this roleswap idea in the future and expand out other swaps!

[wileys-russo]

Alessia, "I didn't cheat on you, it was just a dream babe!", mad alessia at training

disloyal dreams II a.russo

"-are you going to be like this all day?" you sighed as you tried to start a conversation with the blonde beside you who shrugged, again refusing to give you any sort of verbal response.

"alessia. the silent treatment, really?" you repeated, eyes burning into the side of her head as she shrugged and you dragged your hands down your face exhaling heavily.

"i thought we were good at communication. we've been together for a year and a half!" you reminded, alessia dead silent as her fingers drummed against the steering wheel and she came to a stop at a red light.

"less, babe will you just tell me what i've done wrong? i can't fix it if i don't know what i did!" you groaned frustrated, the blonde only leaning forward and turning up the stereo louder making you wince.

"fine, be like this then." you grumbled with a shake of your head, crossing your arms and staring out the window, knowing her well enough that the striker when warranted could be incredibly stubborn.

though the problem you were having today is you weren't even sure where this grudge she had against you was coming from. you'd gone to bed and things were all fine and normal, the pair of you ordering in and falling asleep cuddled up together watching a movie in the living room as you often did.

you'd woken up first, slowly shaking the taller girl on top of you until she did too and the two of you had stumbled tiredly to bed. her long limbs entrapping you in her hold the moment your backs hit the mattress, eyes heavy and a few sleepy kisses exchanged, all seemed fine.

but then this morning you'd woken up to an empty bed, frowning right away as alessia was almost never the first one awake between you.

in fact over the time you'd been together even before you'd moved in with her whenever you slept over at alessia's you'd learned to set your alarm a half an hour earlier than either of you had to be up because it took that long to coax the sleepy blonde to actually get up.

your confusion only grew further when a quick search of the house showed it to be empty, your calls out for your girlfriend going unanswered both vocal and on the phone, a sense of worry beginning to settle in.

however right before it really hit its peak you heard keys in the front door, racing down the stairs and breathing out in relief when she stepped inside, body coated in a thin sheen of sweat and hair pulled back into a bun.

you tried to speak to her and draw her into a hug, mumbling ut you'd been worried sick and asking why she hadn't at least left a note or sent a text but all you got was a shrug and a grumble she needed a shower.

ever since then the most your girlfriend had said was maybe three words, the rest of her responses all grunts or hums as at first you thought maybe she hadn't slept well and was just tired.

though then it started to feel a lot more personal and as much as you'd asked and asked and asked, she wouldn't tell you just why she was so seemingly upset with you or what you'd done to earn such a stubborn silence.

pulling into the training grounds you tried again to ask if the two of you could talk, trying to angle that it wasn't healthy to go into training if she was in a bad head space but all that resulted in was a door closed in your face and a rap of her knuckles against your window a moment later, wordlessly telling you to hurry up.

despite the fact alessia could be one of the most sweet, kind and downright lovely human beings you'd ever had the pleasure to know let alone fall in love with, she still had her share of off day but normally she was quite good at hiding them from your teammates.

today however she didn't seem to care in the slightest, making no move to disguise the fact she wasn't talking to you and clearly was in a mood, the tension thick and uncomfortable as you stared at her longingly across the change rooms.

"mate. what did you do to that poor girl?" leah flopped herself down in her own cubby beside you as you sighed, alessia not even sparing you a glance as she laced her boots up and stormed out, ignoring both emily and lotte who tried to stop and speak with her clearly sensing she wasn't okay.

"nothing! well at least not that i can work out? i've been given the silent treatment all morning." you huffed with a roll of your eyes, wrestling to undo the tight knots in your boots and sending kyra a venemous glare across the room who was clearly the culprit.

but sensing maybe today was not the day to have pushed your buttons the australian was quick to shrink beneath your murderous stare, taking off out of the room within seconds flat.

"give it here." leah chuckled, having already undone your other boot as you shoved it at her and sunk down into your seat, stroppy look on your face and mouth turned downward into a sour pout.

"did you have an argument?" "no." "did you not do something you said you would?" "I don't think so?" "did you forget an anniversary? birthday? special date?" "definitely not." "did you..." leah trailed off, clearly trying to think of something to say.

"nah i've got nothing. good luck sunshine!" the blonde shrugged, pinching your cheek and handing you the now untangled boot. "leah!" you groaned, hoping for the older girl to at least have had perhaps some wisdom to offer.

throughout the day your confusion only grew when the stony silence continued, the two of you at least kept mostly separate for the majority of training, having grown embarrassed now by your shut down attempts to talk to alessia.

thankfully bar a few ill timed comments from some of your younger peers who hadn't yet learnt how to read a room everyone backed off the teasing you'd been worried about, most of them just as confused as you by the air of frustration and irritation radiating off the blonde striker.

"fucking hell less!" leah swore, barely able to duck out of the way of a poorly timed but incredibly powerful strike which rocketed past her ear and swooshed into the back of the goal.

you however were not so lucky, admittedly quite out of it most of the session as your brain ticked over and you overthought every little action and interaction you'd had with the blonde in the last twenty four hours.

it was this distraction which caused you to have zoned out on the sidelines, staring off into space and triple checking in your head every significant event and date to try and work out just why your girlfriend was so clearly off with you.

but you were grounded right back into reality when suddenly something hit you very hard and very fast right in the face, the unexpected ball knocking you on your ass as you felt something wet drip down your face and you started to feel a little woozy.

you watched as both your teammates and some of the staff crowded around you, seeing their mouths moving but unable to decipher what was being said due to the obnoxious ringing in your head.

the medics eventually arrived, shooing everyone away to give you some space and a collective slightly disgusted groan sounded as suddenly you lurched forward and emptied the contents of your breakfast onto the grass beside you.

you winced as a bright light was shone right in your eyes, trying to bat away the hand responsible as someone else grabbed your wrists and stopped you.

blinking a few times as finally the light went away and your hearing returned right in time to hear one word before you were helped to your feet and walked off the pitch.

concussion.

you sighed heavily but nodded as you laid down on one of the padded benches in the medic office, the lights dim and one of the trainee's running you through the concussion protocol you knew like the back of your hand.

with a heavy sigh you felt him squeeze your knee in a silent apology before ducking out to grab some paperwork, an incident report needing to be done as you covered your face with your hands and felt your heartbeat thump in your ears.

when you heard the door open again you assumed he'd returned and you might be cleared to leave, but to your surprise when you looked up there was a different person now looking down on you, your bag slung over her shoulder and car keys in hand.

you didn't expect her to say anything and you didn't have it in you for an argument, so with a grunt you pulled yourself into a seated position, her hands quick to steady you and you hated how good it felt to feel her touch even in such a minimal way.

"you cheated on me."

your head snapped up so fast you felt your neck throb and the headache settling behind your eyes pulse as you sat in a state of shock, sure you'd just heard her incorrectly.

"i-what?" you managed to croak out, the blonde fiddling with the strap of the bag as she nodded. "you cheated on me." she repeated and just like earlier you felt a horrendous sense of nausea settle in.

"i think i'm going to be sick." you began to panic, bile rising in your throat as you looked around desperately for a sick bag of some sort as alessia's hands settled on your cheeks and you tensed up.

"you cheated on me last night." she repeated in a tone so soft you almost didn't hear her, incredibly confused and now wondering just how hard you'd hit your head as you blinked.

"alessia. what? i-baby i would never ever chea-" you couldn't even get the words out until the blonde shook her head, one of her hands coming to cover your mouth, an odd look of guilt now present on her face which had you even more confused.

"in my dream, last night. you cheated on me in my dream, that's why i've been so off with you today..." the blonde bit her bottom lip with a wince as you paused, slowly moving her hands off of you as she shifted nervously.

"i didn't cheat on you." "no." "but you thought i did?" "kind of? i know it was a dream, but it felt really real!"

"alessia..." you trailed off in disbelief, the trainee from earlier taking one step inside as the pair of you looked at him and clearly sensing he might have been interrupting he quickly ducked back out of the room with a mumble you were free to go.

"i still think you should say sorry." the blonde seemed to regain her confidence as your jaw dropped and you looked at her in bewilderment. "for what?" you squeaked out, alessia sighing and shaking her head.

"for cheating on me." "i didn't cheat on you? it was just a dream babe!" you threw your hands up with a scoff and hissed, your head throbbing as your eyes squeezed shut.

"okay. well since you have a concussion, i'll forgive you anyway." alessia decided, stepping forward to stand in between your legs and giving you a smile as if she'd just done you a favour.

"you'll forgive me?" "yes. now baby we should really get you home, i've got your concussion plan and you have to come in tomorrow for a re-assessment." alessia nodded, patting your bag and holding our a hand to help you up as you stared at her with narrowed eyes.

"you'll forgive me. for ignoring me all day and making me feel like i've done the wrong thing? like i'm the the crazy one?" you stuttered out still in shock that this was the reason for her cold shoulder and off put behavior.

"hey! you can't use that." alessia snatched your phone out of your hand and slid it into your bag with a tut. "i need it." you held your hand out expectantly and rolled your eyes as your girlfriend had the audacity to laugh.

"for what?" she questioned as you smacked away her attempted helping hands and she frowned.

"because i need to write a note." "a note?" "yes alessia. a note that when my head isn't absolutely throbbing i am going to yell at you and then give you the silent treatment all day!"

"what! baby why? you cheated on me, and i forgave you?" "i cannot control my actions in a dream alessia, and so i didn't cheat on you!" "baby you shouldn't get so worked up, you'll make your headache worse." "dating you is a headache russo." "...so is now a bad time to ask for that apology?" "it was a dream alessia!"

[whore-ratio]

when I started hrt, I was so incredibly unsure. every day I was wracked with doubt and anxiety. here was this gaping hole in my chest, which by my measure was only growing, and I expected one little pill every day to fix it somehow. I was doubtful, but when I talked to my trans friend about it, they said the same thing: they weren't sure at first.

they took theirs experimentally at first, just to figure out if it was what they wanted. they told me it was like a fog lifted. I felt very foggy. I decided to try it.

I live in a state where informed consent is the accepted model of treatment. I scheduled an appointment to consult about it, heard out the risks and benefits, and I was sure my doubt had been evident to my doctor. I was also sure it would disqualify me somehow.

she told me to see her again in a month. I booked my next appointment three weeks out.

at that appointment, she simply asked me if I understood the risks, benefits, and overall effects of estrogen. I told her I thought I did. she asked me if I wanted it, and I said the same. I was practically waiting for her to stop me, to tell me I had to be sure.

she wrote me a prescription and I picked it up the same day.

ESTRADIOL 2MG SUBLINGUAL TABLET

I left the pharmacy in disbelief. my pharmacist had usually said the name of my prescription to me when handing it over. she didn't say anything this time.

at home I sat staring at the bottle for a while before opening it. then I finally got out one tablet and placed it under my tongue. looking back, I'm sure I did it wrong. I didn't hold it there as long as I should have, and kept moving it around by accident.

I knew it wouldn't change me overnight, but I still somehow expected it to: to wake up with a different brain, one that could feel everything deeply rather than drifting through each day in a dreamlike state and drifting into dreamless sleep each night. of course this didn't happen. it wouldn't, either.

the next day I felt worse. with each passing day it continued, as my desperation grew for this little tablet to do something, anything to me. I just wanted a *sign*. something to me feel like I wasn't headed for the edge of a cliff anymore.

but I was on 2mg sublingual daily. a weak dose, one that achieves essentially nothing without an antiandrogen. I didn't really know what dosages meant at the time. even so, I was happy to have estrogen in my body.

wait.

*I was happy to have estrogen in my body.*

even without knowing what it was doing, without seeing any of its effects, just by beginning to take them, I had already realized that I wanted to keep going. I wanted to keep putting estrogen in my body, and as soon as I began to understand levels and dosages, I wanted more.

several times I asked my doctor to increase my dose ahead of the recommended schedule, and each time she obliged, remarking that while it could be risky, my mental state was the more important consideration and it was ultimately up to me.

so I kept going up, always just a bit ahead of the curve. soon I was at the maximum safe dose on tablets. soon after, I switched to injections (I'm now on 6mg estradiol valerate per week) and started progesterone. I have never been happier.

there were many stages where I fully expected doctors to refuse to prescribe me, or change my prescription for, estrogen. I expected them to tell me I wasn't ready to make that decision, that I could only know with more therapy, or that I at least had to be able to tell them I wanted it without a hint of doubt in my voice.

but that's only because it's what I kept hearing from everyone else: that it's a decision to take extremely seriously, one with irreversible consequences.

but all it took was one tablet with far too small a dose to be effective, and already I was sure. maybe I always had been.

remember that while nobody chooses which hormone their body produces, they are *always* changing you irreversibly. the question to ask is not "am I really certain I want estrogen?", it's "do I like the idea of this better than staying on testosterone?" and if you still can't answer that but are curious, it's perfectly fine to just try it.

not every place has informed consent, but they should. if they don't, never be afraid to lie to doctors in order to get what you want. remember, the barriers to HRT were not put in place because of genuine medical concern, but because of transphobia. you deserve better, so do whatever you have to to get your hands on it, even just to try it, even if you're not sure. your body probably knows what it wants.

for whoever needs to hear this:

starting HRT doesn't have to be a huge momentous all-or-nothing decision. you can just try it like you would an antidepressant you've been informed of the risks of.

there won't be any immediate irreversible changes overnight. you can always stop, change your dose, change your delivery system, decide it's not the right time. you can even microdose if you want to.

you don't have to tell anyone. you don't have to announce it if you don't want to.

stop waiting for a perfect time in your life because it won't come.

stop waiting to reach a mythical level of certainty that never comes to anyone, for anything.

you've been thinking about it long enough. if you have the opportunity, just give it a shot. you're worth the courage it takes to make a change in your life.

[51voices]

Healing Touch

Kinkvember Day 14: Oral (TW: Emotional & Physical Abuse)

StayC Isa (Lee Chaeyoung) x Male reader

AN: Just a heads-up, this story has more character development and plot, with less smut than usual. I hope you guys still enjoy!

“AGH, fuck!” Isa’s breath comes in shallow gasps, her body still tingling from the waves of pleasure that had just torn through her. The room is filled with the quiet aftermath of your lovemaking, a soft hum of satisfaction buzzing in the dim light. She lies beside you, skin slick with sweat, her heartbeat slowly returning to its natural rhythm. For a few moments, neither of you speaks—just the sound of your breaths mingling as you both come down from the high, letting the silence settle in comfortably.

You lie on your back next to her, staring up at the ceiling with a lazy grin, your chest rising and falling in sync with hers. Isa turns her head toward you, her body still warm and electric from the intensity you just shared. She treasures these moments—the calm after the storm—when every part of her feels alive yet settled. But tonight, something lingers at the edge of her mind, a familiar ache that always seems to resurface after these most intimate moments.

It’s been a year and a half since you became a couple,—since you reached the point where words were no longer enough to hold what you shared. You’ve grown closer with each passing day, yet even now, there are places in you that feel just out of reach to her, guarded and closed. Isa longs to reach those parts, to touch you in ways that go beyond the physical. She feels it most in the aftermath of nights like this—when your bodies speak a language all their own, but she knows there’s still something more, something unspoken between you.

You both bask in the comfortable silence, bodies entangled yet thoughts drifting. Isa’s fingers trace the lines of your chest lazily, feeling the steady warmth of your skin beneath her touch, grounding her. Her body hums with contentment, but her mind is already longing for something beyond it. She feels the quiet tension that always lingers after, a sense of wanting to give herself more fully to you, to offer parts of herself that words or touch can’t fully convey.

After a few moments, Isa turns her head toward you, her voice soft, carrying a hint of hope. “Do you want me to… take care of you?” She doesn’t need to be more specific; you know what she means. She wants to show her love in this way, to take you to that place of vulnerability she finds beautiful.

You smile faintly but shake your head, brushing it off. “No need, baby. You don’t have to. I’m good.”

Isa’s heart sinks, a familiar disappointment settling in. The rejection stings, even more than she lets herself admit. “I know I don’t have to,” she murmurs, her fingers still tracing patterns on your chest, searching for the right words. “I want to.”

Your response is gentle but dismissive, as always. “I’m spent. Too tired,” you say, your voice already softening with sleep as you turn to spoon her from behind. Your arm wraps around her waist, pulling her close, and Isa can feel the warmth of your body against hers, your breath soft against her neck. But despite your words, she feels your half-hardened length pressing against her, betraying your claim of exhaustion.

Her mind swirls as she lies there in your embrace. She’s noticed this pattern before—how you always find a reason to decline her offer. It isn’t the first time you’ve said you’re “tired” or that it “wasn’t necessary.” Each time, it leaves Isa feeling more confused and frustrated. For her, it isn’t about obligation; it’s her way of showing love, an expression as important as anything else you do together. She wants to share that intimacy with you—to feel the satisfaction of bringing you pleasure in her own way. And yet, every time she tries, you have an excuse.

Tonight, with the way your body presses against hers even as your words tell her no, the quiet rejection stings more deeply than ever.

As you hold her, your arm draped over her waist, you sense a shift in her, a quiet tension. Normally, after moments like these, you would both talk softly or drift into easy silence. But tonight, there’s a difference in the air, something in the way her body feels tense against yours, her breath slow but not fully relaxed.

“Chae,” you say, your voice breaking through the silence. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Isa hesitates, biting her lip as her thoughts tumble over one another. Should she brush it off? Or is tonight the night to finally voice what’s been building inside her? After a long moment, she sighs and rolls over slightly to face you, her gaze soft but searching.

“Why don’t you ever let me… you know, give you head?” she begins quietly, her voice uncertain but steady. “It’s not like I don’t want to. I love doing it. I love making you feel good in that way. But you always say no.”

You blink, momentarily taken aback by her honesty. You open your mouth to respond, but Isa continues, the words pouring out now that she’s started.

“I don’t want to pressure you, I swear,” she says, her fingers resting lightly on your chest, feeling the slow, steady beat of your heart. “I just… I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something. You say you’re tired, or that you’re fine, but it’s a way for me to show my love, and I want to share that with you. But you keep shutting me down.”

Her words hang in the air between you, a weight both of you can feel. Isa’s heart pounds as she waits for your response, vulnerability tightening in her chest, wondering if you’ll brush it off or finally explain what holds you back.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair, your gaze shifting as if searching for the right words. You’ve always avoided this conversation, not because you don’t care about Isa’s feelings, but because the truth isn’t something you like to acknowledge—not even to yourself.

Finally, after a long pause, you look back at her, your expression serious but softened by affection. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just… complicated.”

The words sit between you, a partial explanation that leaves Isa feeling both relieved and unsatisfied. She knows you well enough to sense that you aren’t ready to share more, so she nods, squeezing your hand gently before releasing it. She won’t push you any further tonight, but a familiar ache remains, lingering like an unanswered question, a space between you still waiting to be bridged.

-----

The next day, as Isa strolled through the market, the weight of your quiet rejection still lingered, gnawing at her thoughts. The autumn air was crisp, carrying the earthy scent of fallen leaves and the comforting aroma of baked goods from nearby stalls, yet the usual warmth she felt here seemed dulled. The marketplace buzzed around her—children laughing, vendors calling out their offers—but Isa moved through it, distracted, her mind tethered to the unsettled feeling that trailed her since last night. As much as she loved you and felt a deep connection, there was this persistent gap—your quiet refusal to let her give you pleasure in the way she most wanted.

It wasn’t that you were harsh about it; you always deflected her with gentle excuses: Not right now, I’m too tired, You don’t need to. But Isa cherished to have this connection with you. For her, it was an act of love, something woven into her very identity. Giving herself in that way made her feel closer, like she was tapping into a deeper level of intimacy, one that words or gestures couldn’t quite match. Yet, every time she offered, you gently closed the door. The rejection, soft as it was, had begun to settle into her, like an ache that didn’t quite fade.

Lost in thought, Isa approached a vegetable stall, barely noticing the colorful array of produce before her. Just as she reached out to pick a ripe tomato, a familiar voice pulled her back to the present.

“Isa? Is that you?”

Isa looked up, her heart skipping a beat. There, standing a few feet away, was Sojang—your ex—smiling at her with an easy familiarity that immediately set Isa on edge. They had met once before, briefly, and Isa hadn’t thought much of her since. But seeing her here, unexpectedly, in the middle of her own thoughts about you, made Isa feel oddly unsettled, as if her internal worries were somehow surfacing before her.

“Oh, hey! Sojang, right?” Isa managed a smile, though it felt tight, her voice sounding more strained than she intended.

Sojang beamed, her expression disarmingly friendly, almost too friendly. “Yes! It’s so nice to run into you. How are you? How’s Y/N?”

Isa nodded, trying to mirror Sojang’s warmth. “I’m good! We’re good, thanks. Just picking up a few things for dinner,” she replied, hoping the conversation would remain light and fleeting.

“Ah, nice, nice,” Sojang said, her eyes gleaming with an interest that made Isa feel oddly exposed. There was something too sweet, too earnest in her tone. Isa couldn’t quite place why, but there was something about Sojang’s bright smile that felt like a performance, a mask that was a little too carefully worn. Isa pushed the thought away, telling herself she was just being paranoid.

They exchanged a few pleasantries, Sojang filling Isa in on her recent return to town. Isa responded politely, though the conversation felt increasingly forced, like Sojang was trying to carve out some deeper connection than Isa wanted. As she listened, Isa’s intuition prickled, a sense that Sojang’s friendliness was intentional, perhaps even calculated. Nothing was explicitly wrong, but her smile seemed too eager, like a practiced act Isa hadn’t signed up to watch.

Then, out of nowhere, Sojang’s tone shifted, becoming playfully teasing. She leaned in, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “So, since you’re with him, your jaw must be tired all the time, huh?” Sojang winked, a sly smirk dancing at the corner of her mouth.

Isa blinked, her mind momentarily freezing. “Uh… what?”

Sojang laughed, seemingly taking Isa’s reaction as bashfulness. “Oh, come on. You don’t have to pretend. I know he’s practically begging you to suck his dick all the time.” She winked again, as if they shared some private joke, as if they were in on the same secret.

Isa’s stomach dropped, a cold, twisting sensation gripping her. “I… um…” Her thoughts raced, scrambling for a response. That wasn’t you. You never begged for oral—if anything, you avoided it. What was Sojang talking about?

Oblivious to Isa’s discomfort, Sojang continued, her tone light, even bubbly. “Oh, trust me. He loves it. He was always asking me for it. Like, constantly. It was kind of his thing, you know? Blowjobs were his main way to unwind.” She giggled, reminiscing with a fondness that felt almost too casual, as if she were sharing a harmless story. “I mean, I used to joke that my jaw was always sore because of him!”

Isa tried to process Sojang’s words, but they didn’t align with the version of you she knew. Her pulse quickened, each beat intensifying the confusion as Sojang’s words echoed in her mind. Constantly? Always asking? She barely managed to keep her expression composed, though her head was spinning. This didn’t sound like you—at least, not the you she knew. The more she tried to piece it together, the more alien it felt.

With effort, she forced a smile, though it wavered. “That’s… interesting. I didn’t know that.”

“Oh yeah!” Sojang replied, all too happy to continue. “If there’s one thing he loved, it was a good blowjob. I used to give them to him all the time. It was like the highlight of his day,” she added with a carefree laugh. “I’m sure you’re keeping him satisfied.”

Isa’s throat tightened, each of Sojang’s words adding to a strange, hollow ache that made her feel smaller, less certain. The more Sojang talked, the more Isa felt a creeping sense of inadequacy. She wanted to respond, to say something—anything—but found herself grasping for words that wouldn’t come. You had never once hinted that you wanted that from her, and every time she offered, you politely refused. Yet here was Sojang, painting a completely different picture of you, one that seemed to revel in a kind of pleasure you wouldn’t let her give.

A sliver of doubt wormed its way into her thoughts, each repetition of Sojang’s words chipping away at her confidence. Was it her? Was she the problem?

“Yeah, um, well…” Isa stammered, her voice trailing off as she glanced down, feeling awkward and exposed in a conversation that had turned sharp without warning. Sojang kept talking, oblivious to Isa’s growing discomfort, but Isa could barely focus on her words. All she could think about was the contrast Sojang’s experience painted, a version of you that felt foreign, unsettling.

If you loved it so much, why didn’t you want it from her?

The question echoed in her mind, nagging, each repetition a sharper edge to her doubt. After a few more forced pleasantries, Sojang finally said her goodbyes, leaving Isa standing alone in the crowded market, the buzz of conversation and laughter around her feeling oddly muted. As Sojang walked away, a heavy feeling settled in Isa’s chest, as if she’d been blindsided, caught off guard in a game she hadn’t known she was playing. Sojang’s cheerful demeanor had made it seem casual, unimportant even, but Isa’s heart felt weighed down by confusion and self-doubt.

On the walk home, the conversation replayed in her mind, every detail sharpening the ache inside her. Sojang’s words kept circling back, as if taunting her: you loved it, needed it, craved it. So why didn’t you want it from her? Was something wrong with her? Did you not trust her the way you had trusted Sojang? Or was there something deeper—something about her that just didn’t move you in the same way?

The doubt gnawed at her, a relentless churning that she couldn’t shake. She told herself not to let Sojang’s words get to her, that people change, that your past with her was just that—the past. But the seeds of insecurity had been planted, and they were starting to take root, their grip tightening around her heart.

More than anything, something about Sojang’s comments unsettled her on a deeper level. The way Sojang had been too familiar, too knowing, as if she’d relished the chance to make Isa feel small. Isa tried to shake the thought, to dismiss it as paranoia, but the suspicion lingered, settling uncomfortably in the back of her mind.

By the time she reached home, the unease had only grown stronger, her heart weighed down with questions she was almost afraid to ask.

-----

That evening, you and Isa sat down for dinner together. You had prepared a comforting meal of pasta in a rosé sauce with a side of golden, buttery garlic bread. On Isa’s plate was a vibrant mix of grilled vegetables and quinoa sprinkled with fresh herbs. Normally, the familiar flavors and your shared meal would soothe her, but tonight, they barely registered. Her mind was elsewhere, tangled in the remnants of her encounter with Sojang and the unsettling thoughts that had trailed her all the way home.

You began chatting about your day, sharing funny stories from work, your face lighting up as you recounted your coworker’s clumsy misadventures with the new coffee machine. Isa nodded along, trying to stay present, even forcing a few laughs. But her mind kept drifting back to the market, to Sojang’s words, each one chipping at her sense of ease, making her quieter than usual.

After a moment, you looked up from your plate, brow furrowing as you noticed her stillness. “Hey, is the food okay?” you asked gently, eyes filled with concern. “You’ve barely touched it.”

Isa shook her head quickly, offering a faint smile. “Oh, no, it’s good,” she replied, taking a small, obligatory bite of her vegetables, though she hardly tasted them. She didn’t want to bring up Sojang or the thoughts stirring inside her—not now, not over dinner. But she couldn’t shake the tension, and every time she looked up, she could feel your worried gaze settling on her.

The two of you finished the meal in subdued silence, Isa barely eating, her appetite dulled by the emotions she was wrestling with. You quietly gathered the dishes and moved to the sink, washing them with your usual care, while Isa slipped into the bedroom, feeling the weight of her unresolved thoughts pressing down on her, heavier than before.

Later that evening, Isa sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her reflection in the mirror, her mind a whirl of doubt and frustration. From the bathroom, she could hear the sound of running water as you washed up, the quiet rhythm amplifying the silence around her. She tried to focus on her nightly routine, brushing her hair, massaging moisturizer into her skin, but her thoughts kept dragging her back to the market—to Sojang’s playful, almost taunting voice. I know he’s practically begging you to suck his dick all the time. The words echoed in her mind, louder and sharper with each repetition, until she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

How could Sojang’s experience with you have been so different from her own? Isa had tried to offer you that same intimacy, that same pleasure, only to be gently brushed off each time. She wanted to feel close to you in every way, to connect with you on the most vulnerable level, but your repeated refusals… they were beginning to feel like a rejection of her, not just of the act.

By the time she crawled into bed, you were coming out of the bathroom, hair damp, smile easy. Normally, Isa would feel comforted by your presence, but tonight her body tensed as you slid in beside her. You wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close like always, but instead of the familiar warmth she usually felt, Isa found herself resisting, a strange weight pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Hey,” you murmured, noticing her stiffness. You pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been quiet since dinner.”

Isa swallowed, managing a weak smile though her heart pounded in her chest. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

You didn’t look convinced. Shifting slightly, you propped yourself up on one elbow to study her face, concern etched in your expression. “Chae? You seem… off. Did I do something?”

Isa felt her throat tighten. She didn’t want to talk about it—not yet, not when her thoughts felt this raw and tangled. She wasn’t even sure how to explain it without sounding insecure. “I’m just tired,” she repeated softly, turning her head away. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

You hesitated, clearly worried, but you nodded, giving her space. “Alright,” you said gently, settling back down beside her. “But if something’s bothering you, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

Isa didn’t respond, keeping her back to you as she curled up on her side. Normally, she would lean into you, her back against your chest, feeling safe and grounded. But tonight, she held herself apart, feeling an unfamiliar anger simmering beneath her sadness. You shifted behind her, closing the gap between you, your arm slipping around her waist again, but she stayed still, not moving to nestle into your embrace.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice soft, tinged with guilt. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”

Your words tugged at her heart, yet Isa couldn’t bring herself to respond. She wasn’t even sure if it was something you had done, or something inside herself that had shifted. She stayed turned away, eyes shut tightly, fighting against the frustration building in her chest. The image of Sojang’s cheerful, too-knowing smile and her casual comments gnawed at her, each one twisting further into her insecurities.

Eventually, Isa drifted into an uneasy sleep, her body still tense with your arm draped over her. But for the first time, the warmth she usually found in your touch felt distant, as if a wall had formed between you, quiet but unmistakable

-----

When Isa woke the next morning, sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, but it did nothing to ease the tension gripping her chest. She turned over, expecting to find you still asleep beside her, but you were already up, pulling on a t-shirt at the foot of the bed. You smiled when you saw her stirring.

“Morning, beautiful,” you said gently, crossing over to kiss her forehead. Your touch was familiar, warm, but Isa’s thoughts were elsewhere—trapped in yesterday’s conversation with Sojang.

Isa sat up slowly, her mind racing, replaying Sojang’s words over and over. You slipped back into bed beside her, draping an arm around her waist like you always did, but today, it felt wrong. She tensed, her skin crawling with unease. You kissed her shoulder, your lips soft against her skin, but Isa couldn’t stop the flood of thoughts—the image of Sojang talking so casually about how much you had loved receiving oral.

She tried to smile, tried to shake the thoughts from her head, but the tension inside her was building too fast. Isa pulled away from your touch, sitting at the edge of the bed, her hands trembling slightly in her lap. You immediately noticed the shift, frowning as she distanced herself.

“Chae... what’s going on?” you asked, your voice gentle but filled with concern. “You’re not yourself. Did I do something?”

Isa bit her lip, her chest tightening. She could feel the frustration and doubt bubbling up inside her, and she couldn’t hold it in anymore. The words tumbled out before she could stop them.

“Why won’t you let me do it?” she asked quietly, her voice tense.

You furrowed your brow, confused. “Do what?”

Isa’s hands tightened in her lap. She turned slightly toward you, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Give you head. Why won’t you ever let me? Why was it okay with Sojang but not with me?”

You instantly stiffened at her words. Your entire body went rigid, eyes narrowing slightly as you processed what she was asking. Your reaction was immediate and unmistakable.

“Wait... why did you and Sojang meet up?” you asked, your voice sharp with unease.

Isa blinked, caught off guard by your sudden tension. She frowned, shaking her head, thinking you were deflecting. “Seriously? That’s your concern right now? You’re trying to change the subject.”

Your eyes stayed fixed on her, body still stiff with discomfort. “No, I—I’m just asking—”

“Sojang told me everything,” Isa interrupted, her voice rising with emotion. “She said you two broke up on good terms. She made it sound like you had this perfect relationship and then just decided to part ways. She implied that blowjobs were practically your favorite thing.” Isa’s voice wavered as her insecurity bubbled up. “She made it sound like she could give you something I can’t. Is that why you keep pushing me away?”

Your face tightened further at the mention of Sojang, your jaw clenching as your eyes flickered with something Isa couldn’t quite read. She mistook your reaction for guilt, for confirmation of her worst fears.

“If that’s what you want—if you still want her—I can leave,” Isa continued, her voice cracking. “If you’d rather be with Sojang, just tell me. I won’t stand in the way.”

You blinked, expression shifting from tense to confused. “Wait, what?” you asked, clearly thrown off. “Leave? Babe, what are you talking about?”

“You guys are perfect for each other. I get it. If she’s still important to you, I won’t—”

“Chae, don’t think like that,” you interrupted, your voice firm but bewildered. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. That’s not what this is about.”

Isa froze, tears pricking her eyes as she stared at you, her frustration and confusion now battling with her fear of rejection. “Then why?” Her voice broke, and her tears finally spilled over. “Why won’t you let me show you how much I love you? Why do you keep pushing me away? What’s wrong with me?”

Your face softened with guilt and regret, shoulders sagging as if the weight of what you had been holding back was finally crashing down on you. You reached out for her, but Isa pulled away, too hurt to accept your comfort.

“Honey, please, listen to me,” you said, your voice low, thick with emotion. “It’s not you. I swear, it’s not about you.”

“Then what is it?” Isa demanded, her voice trembling with frustration and heartache.

“Sojang...” you began, your voice strained, “she’s not what you think.”

Your hands trembled in your lap, eyes darting away from Isa’s as the weight of your past pressed down on you. You could feel your throat tighten, chest aching as memories you had tried to bury for so long began to resurface. Isa’s heart pounded in her chest, watching you with growing concern. She had never seen you like this—so vulnerable, so visibly distressed. You were always the strong one, the one who held her together when she felt like falling apart. But now, sitting there with your hands shaking and your gaze far away, she realized how much you had been hiding from her.

You took a deep breath, jaw tightening before you finally spoke, your voice low and strained. “Sojang... she’s not who you think she is. And we didn’t break up on good terms. We didn’t end things cleanly like she made it sound. I didn’t even tell her it was over face to face. I just... I left.”

Isa’s eyes widened slightly, her heart already sinking at the pain she could hear in your voice. “What do you mean?” she asked softly, not wanting to push, but needing to understand.

You stared at your hands, fingers fidgeting with the sheets as you tried to explain. “Sojang… She was my first girlfriend. I didn’t know any better back then. I didn’t have anything to compare it to. I was just happy that someone wanted to be with me, you know?” You glanced up at Isa, your eyes filled with a mixture of shame and sadness. “I thought that was love.”

Isa’s heart broke at your words. She could see it now—the innocence, the trust you had given Sojang, not knowing what a healthy relationship looked like. You had believed Sojang loved you, that the way she treated you was normal, and it made her stomach turn.

“At first, everything seemed fine,” you continued, your voice growing quieter. “But slowly, she started changing. She got controlling. She’d use sex as a way to manipulate me.”

Isa felt a lump form in her throat as your words sank in. She could see how much this was hurting you, how difficult it was for you to relive these memories. She wanted to reach out and comfort you, but she didn’t want to interrupt. You needed to get this out.

“She’d use it to punish me,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “Whenever I did something she didn’t like, whenever I tried to pull away from her, she’d… use her mouth to cause me pain. I know that sounds weird, but she knew exactly how to hurt me. She’d make it seem like it was this intimate thing, but it wasn’t. It was about control, about making me feel powerless.”

Isa’s breath caught in her throat, her mind reeling. The idea that Sojang had weaponized something so intimate, something that should have been about love and connection, made her feel sick.

“It got worse,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “If I flinched, if I tried to tell her to stop, she’d accuse me of not being a real man. She’d say things like, ‘How can you not like blowjobs? What kind of guy doesn’t enjoy that?’ She made me feel like there was something wrong with me. And when I started to believe that... I didn’t know how to leave.”

You swallowed hard, your voice growing even quieter as the memories overwhelmed you. “Sojang would say things like, ‘Don’t you know how lucky you are to have a girl like me suck you off? You should be grateful.’ And for a while, I believed her. I thought… Maybe she was right. I didn’t feel lucky, but I felt like I had to be. Like I was crazy for not wanting it.”

Isa’s heart shattered as she listened. She had no idea that Sojang had twisted something so intimate into a way to control and demean you. Your hands clenched in your lap as you continued, the words pouring out now, like you had been holding them in for too long.

“I hated it,” you said, your voice raw. “But I stayed because I thought that was what love was supposed to be. I thought… I thought maybe this was all I was worth. Maybe she was right.”

Isa’s tears fell freely now. She wanted to reach out, to tell you that none of it had been your fault, that you weren’t the problem, but she stayed silent, letting you finish.

“I started dreading it,” you continued, your voice breaking slightly. “Every time she’d order me to undress, I knew it wasn’t about love or making me feel good. It was about control. And I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t know how to stop it.”

Isa’s stomach churned, imagining the fear and helplessness you must have felt, trapped in a relationship with someone who wielded intimacy as a weapon.

“I couldn’t take it anymore,” you said, your voice barely audible now. “I reached my breaking point, and one night, I just… I left. I snuck out. Cut all contact. I didn’t even tell her it was over. I was scared she’d pull me back in again. I was scared she’d make me feel like I was the problem, all over again.”

Isa’s tears blurred her vision as she reached out, placing a hand on your arm. “Oh my God… I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracked, filled with sorrow and regret. She couldn’t believe how much you had been holding inside, how much you had been carrying alone.

You finally looked up at her, your expression filled with pain but also relief, as if finally saying these words had lifted some of the weight from your chest. But your eyes still carried that haunted look, as though the trauma lingered, even after all this time.

“That’s why I can’t let you do it,” you said softly, your voice hoarse. “It’s not about you, baby. I love you. But every time you offer, all I can think about is her. The pain. The manipulation. I don’t want to go back there.”

Isa’s heart shattered all over again. She had thought your refusals were about her, but now she saw it for what it was—a way to protect yourself from reliving the nightmare that had nearly broken you.

Tears streamed down her face as she scooted closer to you, wrapping her arms around you tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered through her tears. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

You didn’t cry, but she could feel the tension in your body, the way your muscles were taut, as though you were barely holding yourself together. You had always been the strong one, the one who held everything together. And now, here you were, crumbling in her arms, showing her the depth of your vulnerability.

“You’re not weak,” Isa whispered, pressing her forehead against your shoulder, her voice choked with emotion. “You’re not. You’re the strongest person I know, and I love you so much.”

You didn’t speak for a moment, but your hand found hers, squeezing it gently. It was a small gesture, but Isa knew what it meant. You were letting her in, slowly, piece by piece.

The two of you sat there in silence, Isa holding you as if her embrace could somehow mend the cracks in your heart. She wished it could. She wished she could erase all the pain your ex had caused you, take away the trauma that had scarred you so deeply. But she knew that wasn’t possible.

All she could do was be there for you. To love you. To show you that this—your love—was real, and safe, and nothing like the twisted version Sojang had given you.

“I love you,” Isa whispered again, her tears dampening your shoulder. 

-----

In the days and weeks following your confession, something shifted between you and Isa—not in a bad way, but in a way that made her feel even closer to you. She hadn’t realized just how much you had been holding inside, how much of yourself you’d kept hidden. Now that you’d shared your past, there was a lightness about you that Isa had never seen before.

You were still the strong, steady man she’d always known, but now there was a vulnerability you allowed yourself to show. You smiled more, laughed a bit louder, and even in the quiet moments between you, there was a newfound ease. It wasn’t that your trauma had vanished—it never would—but confiding in Isa had released some of its hold, and that brought her a profound sense of love and pride.

Isa never pushed, nor did she bring up what you had told her unless you wanted to talk. She understood that healing was not something that happened overnight, and she didn’t want you to feel rushed or like you had to “fix” yourself for her. She was simply there, letting you go at your own pace, accepting that some things might never change and that this was okay.

Still, she made sure you knew she was there for you, whenever you were ready.

One evening, as you lay in bed together, Isa turned to you, cupping your face gently. “I just want you to know,” she whispered, her voice warm with love, “that whenever—or if ever—you feel ready, I’d love to show you what real love feels like. Not the kind that hurts, not the kind that controls. Just love. Real, safe, and full of trust.”

Your eyes softened, and you covered her hand with yours, saying nothing but giving her a look that held everything she needed to know. You weren’t ready yet, but Isa’s patience meant the world to you.

So, life continued. You grew more open, letting yourself be more at ease. Isa noticed the subtle ways you began to change—the quiet confidence that started to return, the warmth in your touch, the way you kissed her a little longer each morning. Your bond grew deeper, and Isa felt a pride she couldn’t put into words, watching you heal, knowing she had created a space for you to feel safe.

Then, as time passed, things shifted. Slowly but surely, the weight you carried seemed lighter, and the shadows in your gaze began to lift. You still had difficult days, times when memories resurfaced, and Isa could sense your mind drifting to a place she couldn’t reach. But you no longer shut her out. You let her in, allowing her to be with you even when the darkness threatened to creep back in.

And Isa never pushed. She loved you, and that was more than enough.

Soon, your birthday arrived, a day Isa had been secretly looking forward to it. There was no need for grand gestures—it was just a day for the two of you, a time to celebrate how far you had come together. You spent the day as you always did—laughing, reminiscing, and filling each other’s lives with stories and small joys. That evening, after a cozy dinner at your favorite little restaurant, you walked home hand-in-hand, the city lights shimmering like stars around you, the crisp night air wrapping you both in a sense of warmth and belonging.

When you got home, you pulled her into your arms as soon as you crossed the doorway, your embrace tender but filled with affection. Isa’s heart fluttered as you whispered softly against her hair.

“Happy birthday,” she murmured, looking up at you with a soft smile.

“Thank you,” you replied, gazing back at her with a warmth that made her feel like the only person in the world.

The rest of the evening was spent together, curled up on the couch, comfortable and content in your little bubble. Isa had no expectations for the night; she was simply grateful to be with you, sharing another beautiful year. But as the night wore on, she noticed something different in your demeanor—a quiet intensity in your gaze, a sense of anticipation in your touch, as though you were building up to something.

Later, as you lay in bed, you turned to her, your eyes searching hers, the sincerity and calmness in your gaze making her heart race.

“Chae,” you began softly, your voice a bit shy, a hint of hesitation as you traced gentle patterns on her arm. “I’ve been thinking about what you said… about showing me what real love feels like.”

Isa blinked, her heart suddenly pounding. She hadn’t expected you to bring it up—not tonight, not even ever if you didn’t want to. She sat up a little, holding your gaze, her excitement barely contained.

You took a steadying breath, your fingers curling around hers. “I think I’m ready,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to try… with you.” Your eyes softened, the weight of your words filled with trust. “I trust you, more than anyone.”

Isa’s breath caught, her heart swelling with joy. You had always been the one to gently refuse when she offered to give you head, and she had never thought you’d be the one to ask.

And then, as if reading her thoughts, you added softly, “I was wondering if… if you’d still want to. I mean, if you still wanted to… you know…”

“Yes!” Isa answered, her voice bright with excitement before you could even finish your sentence. Her cheeks flushed, a soft, shy laugh escaping her as she realized how eagerly she’d spoken. “I mean… yes,” she whispered, this time more softly, her face glowing with love and anticipation.

Your eyes lit up at her response, and Isa couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face. She’d been waiting for this—not just because of the act itself, but because it meant you trusted her in a way you hadn’t been able to before.

“You’re sure?” Isa whispered, her voice tender, but her heart raced with excitement. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to… I’d be happy to wait.”

You smiled, reaching up to gently cup her cheek. “I’m sure,” you murmured, warmth in your eyes. “I want this. With you.”

With a soft smile, Isa moved closer, leaning down to press gentle kisses along your chest, her lips trailing slowly, savoring the feel of your skin. Each kiss was a promise, filled with the love she held for you—a love that was gentle, safe, and real, just as she had always hoped to give.

As her kisses moved lower, Isa could feel your breath deepen, the slow rise and fall of your chest as you allowed yourself to relax. Her hands slid down your torso, brushing over the hard planes of your stomach, and she smiled to herself, feeling the slight shiver of your muscles responding to her touch. There was something deeply intimate about these moments—something Isa had craved, not just for herself, but for you.

She reached your hips, her fingers teasing along the waistband of your boxers, and she could feel the tension there, the quiet anticipation that came with trusting someone enough to let them in. Isa paused, her lips brushing against your hip bone as she looked up at you, meeting your eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice a soft whisper, wanting to make sure you were truly ready.

Your gaze met hers, your breathing a little heavier now, but there was no hesitation in your eyes. You gave her a small nod, your hand threading gently through her hair. “I’m okay,” you whispered. “I’m more than okay.”

With a gentle nod from you, Isa slowly pulled down your boxers, revealing you to her. For a moment, she simply paused, admiring you, taking in the quiet beauty of this moment—your body, open and vulnerable, trusting her completely in the most intimate way. Her heart swelled with love, understanding that this wasn’t just about the act itself but about showing you that intimacy could be safe and beautiful.

Her hand wrapped around you first, her touch soft and unhurried. She felt you respond immediately, a subtle tension running through your muscles as her fingers moved in a gentle, deliberate rhythm. Isa’s heart skipped as she saw you like this—open, trusting, letting her guide each moment. She brushed her thumb over the sensitive tip, watching as your breath hitched, your hand tightening slightly in her hair, not guiding or pushing, just resting there, a silent expression of trust.

Isa lowered her head, taking you into her mouth with tender care, her lips wrapping slowly around you as she savored the warmth of your skin. She moved deliberately, her hands resting on you, steady and reassuring, her mouth exploring you with gentle affection. Each movement was thoughtful, her focus entirely on you, every moment filled with care.

She heard soft sounds escape your lips—quiet, breathy sighs that let her know you were starting to let go. Your hand stayed light on her head, not guiding, just there, a reassuring reminder that you felt safe. Isa moved at her own pace, unhurried, making sure each second was filled with intention and love. There was no rush, no goal; she simply wanted you to feel safe, to understand that this could be pure and healing.

Isa found herself enjoying each second, more deeply than she had expected. It wasn’t just about your pleasure—it was about seeing you let go, watching your body respond in a way that showed you were leaving the pain of the past behind. A quiet warmth flooded her chest, a sense of fulfillment, knowing she was finally able to give you this kind of love and closeness.

As she continued, Isa felt your breathing grow more unsteady, your muscles tensing as you edged closer. Her movements remained gentle but purposeful, her hand and mouth moving in sync. Every soft sound you made, every shiver, filled her with pride, knowing you were allowing her to take you to this vulnerable place. To her, it felt like a gift you were both sharing.

A moment later, your breath hitched sharply, your hand tightening in her hair as if bracing yourself. “Oh, fuck, Chae,” you breathed out, voice thick with a blend of surprise and pleasure. Hearing her name from you, Isa felt a surge of warmth, a quiet assurance that you were allowing yourself to feel fully, without holding back.

Your body tensed one last time, every muscle tightening as Isa felt the warmth of your release fill her mouth, unexpectedly intense. Her eyes widened in slight surprise, her heart swelling with the depth of the trust you had placed in her. The sensation was overwhelming, but she held steady, her lips remaining gentle and firm around you as she guided you through each wave, ensuring you felt safe, cherished, and seen.

As each pulse flowed into her, Isa’s movements grew even more tender, her hands holding you with care, a gentle presence as she felt you surrender completely. She swallowed softly, letting you essence fill her completely, her touch light and reassuring. Each subtle twitch, each surge of release, was a testament to the vulnerability you were willing to share, and she received it all with love.

With every pump, Isa could feel your tension melting away, and a quiet pride blossomed within her. She knew what this moment meant—that you had entrusted her with something sacred, a vulnerability once guarded. She felt a sense of fulfillment, a deep sense of joy and purpose, as she coaxed you through each wave, letting you know with every gentle movement that you were safe and deeply cherished.

Keeping her mouth softly around you, Isa lingered, savoring the warmth of every response from your body. Each twitch, each gentle pulse, filled her with satisfaction, a connection she had longed to share with you. This was her love in action, a gift of care and devotion. The fullness of that feeling glowed within her, making each touch an act of affection.

When you glanced down, your breath caught at the sight of her—her mouth still gently surrounding you, her eyes meeting yours with a look so full of care, warmth, and adoration that it sent a shiver through you. Her gaze was unwavering, her expression beautifully open, filled with a love that went beyond words.

With a slow, tender swirl of her tongue, Isa gently lapped up every last trace, her movements graceful and attentive, savoring each second. Her lips stayed around you until she released you with a soft, lingering pop. She then pressed a gentle kiss to your tip, a shimmering thread connecting her lips to you for a moment before it faded, leaving her with a soft smile of pure contentment.

Feeling deeply fulfilled, Isa continued to shower you with tender kisses, each one unhurried and filled with meaning. She traced a delicate path along your length, her mouth warm, her kisses gentle and intentional, as though committing every inch of you to memory. Her heart swelled with love and pride, knowing that you were allowing her to be this close, to give you this intimacy. Each kiss felt like a balm, a way of rewriting the past, easing old hurts with a touch that was gentle and true.

She took her time, mixing in soft licks with her kisses, her gaze never leaving yours. She wanted you to feel her presence in every touch, to know that this was her gift to you—a gift of safety, of trust, of unconditional love.

With one final, lingering kiss to your tip, Isa’s lips held there, as if sealing a promise. Then, slowly, she began to kiss her way back up, her warm lips trailing along your skin, savoring every inch. Each kiss felt like an affirmation, a reminder that she was exactly where she wanted to be, giving herself to you in a way that felt both sacred and healing.

When she finally lay beside you, your chest was still rising and falling, your breath heavy as you came down from the high of her love. Isa rested her hand lightly on your chest, feeling the steady beat of your heart beneath her palm, her own heart swelling with fulfillment and joy.

For a few quiet moments, neither of you spoke, letting the silence fill with warmth and contentment. Finally, as your breathing settled, you turned to Isa, your eyes wide, your expression a mixture of amazement and gratitude. For a moment, you seemed at a loss for words, simply gazing at her with a quiet reverence. And then, with a soft laugh, you shook your head, holding her close, knowing that words could never capture what you both had just shared.

“Honey… that was…” You paused, breath still uneven, feeling your heart race as you searched for words. “I mean, I don’t even know what to say. That was… incredible. You’re incredible.”

Isa’s lips curved into a soft smile, her own chest warm with the closeness you’d just shared. She let out a laugh, eyes bright as she leaned her head against your shoulder. “Speechless?” she teased, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “I think that might be a first.”

You laughed, shaking your head, still catching your breath. “I don’t think I’ll find words anytime soon. That was… way beyond anything I ever imagined it could be.” You rubbed a hand over your face, still looking a bit dazed. “Chae, you’re just… I can’t believe how... we need to do that again.”

Isa let out another soft laugh, her face lighting up as she took in your reaction, the awe in your expression making her feel more than just appreciated—she felt deeply cherished, like she had given you a gift that mattered. Leaning in, she pressed a playful kiss to your nose. “Glad I could surprise you,” she whispered, her voice filled with warmth.

You grinned, still in awe. “Surprise doesn’t even cover it,” you said, shaking your head, the sincerity in your voice deepening. “That was…wow.”

Isa’s laughter softened, a tender look settling in her eyes as her fingers traced soft, comforting circles on your chest. “Well, I’m glad I could be the one to show you,” she said, her voice gentle, filled with love. “You deserve to feel this way, to feel safe, to feel everything. And… I’m just glad I could be here for you.”

You reached for her hand, intertwining your fingers, giving them a gentle, lingering squeeze. “Thank you,” you murmured, voice thick with emotion as you met her gaze. “I don’t know how I got so lucky to find someone like you.”

Isa’s playful smile softened, her gaze warm as she squeezed your hand in return. “I think we’re both pretty lucky,” she said, a light laugh escaping her as she nestled closer. “And honestly, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You shook your head, still grinning. “Lucky doesn’t even come close,” you whispered, pulling her close, wrapping your arms around her as if to hold onto this moment forever.

You lay together, letting the silence settle between you, comfortable and content, Isa’s heart swelling with joy at having been able to share this moment with you, and you filled with gratitude for her presence, her patience, and her love. She leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your chest, letting her lips linger over the steady beat of your heart. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice soft and full of warmth.

You pulled her even closer, feeling her warmth against you, a profound sense of peace washing over you. “I love you too, Chaeyoung,” you replied, voice low and filled with sincerity. “More than I ever thought possible.”

With a quiet sigh, Isa tucked herself into you, her hand resting over your heart as the two of you let the night wrap around you, safe in each other’s arms, both knowing that this love was everything you had ever needed.

[ellecdc]

Hiii! I adore all of your poly couples so I was seriously (Sirius-ly har har I’m so funny) struggling to pick one. But I just reread the poly!Jily and omggg I love the idea of lily becoming James 😭

Anyway I think

“are you blushing?! that’s adorable”

Would be such a cute prompt for them!!

yessssss! and great choice, babes.

poly!Jily x fem!reader who picked up some Potterisms [615 words]

CW: one negative comment about Snape, reader is Slytherin and usually a little grumpy maybe?, fluff

James knew from experience that after spending so long in the company of your friends or loved ones, one quickly picks up on some of their behaviours and mannerisms. 

James started to hear some of Sirius’ barks of laughter escaping his own lips. He also found himself using more colourful language that he no doubt picked up from potty-mouth Moony. James was far more likely to try new and unique cuisines since befriending Peter. And he even found himself calling the odd Slytherin git a toe-rag à la Lily Evans. 

What surprised him was just how much James Lily managed to pick up from him in their relationship by the time they met you. 

The usually blithe, somewhat snide, proud and determined witch could be seen almost tripping over herself in excitement when she saw you. And if James had been a hopeless romantic, Lily was an all out love-aholic. 

But he had more or less gotten used to that since you agreed to go out with them a few months ago. 

What he was still trying to get over were the random bouts of him he saw in you. 

“Oh my goodness!” Lily nearly shrilled as she watched a first year shyly approach another first year with a small bouquet of hand picked flowers held behind his back. “That is so cute.”

James found himself laughing. “Sure, it’s cute when they do it, but when I tried to give you flowers in first year, you threw them in my face.” 

He could hear you giggling from Lily’s other side, but James knew better than to draw attention to your uninhibited reactions and just enjoy them, lest you completely shut down out of embarrassment. 

Lily hadn’t managed to figure that one out yet, so James was glad her attention was still directed towards the now red-in-the-face first years smiling at each other and glaring at their friends’ teasing. 

“You weren’t nearly that cute in first year.” Lily commented breezily. 

“Come now, Evans,” you drawled, “there’s no need to be rude.” 

“I’m not being rude,” Lily argued as she stuck her nose up in the air, “I’m simply telling the truth.”

“You were just blinded by your devotion to Snivellus.” James snickered, causing you to wrinkle your nose in disgust at the thought of your housemate. 

“Oh shut it.” Lily hissed, swatting excitedly at the two of you when she noticed the two first years now holding hands. 

“Ah,” James let out with a fond sigh, “young love.” 

“Isn’t that just the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen!?” Lily squealed. 

“Second sweetest.” You commented casually, causing both Lily and James to look at you in question when they realised you weren’t moved to explain. “I do get to look at you, every day.” You added, shooting Lily a wink. 

James felt a disbelieving laugh escape his lips as he stared at you with a wide smile. 

“Where has this Y/N been all this time!?” James cheered then before turning to see Lily staring at you in shock with her mouth wide open.

“Oh my Godric, are you blushing!?” He asked Lily, holding his hand up to her pink cheeks as if he needed to feel them warm under his touch just to be certain. “That’s adorable.”

“I think you broke her, L/N.” Remus commented as he and Sirius showed up. “I’ve never seen her reduced to a blushing mess before.” 

“And was that a Potterism I just heard you make?” Sirius added with a salacious wink, and James delighted in the glower you shot at his best friend, knowing you likely had a similar heat radiating under your cheeks as Lily.

Merlin, he was so in love.

[vampiresbloodx]

Enemy. chapter one.

pairings: Jinx x reader, vi x caitlyn, various characters.

synopsis: when you, a tired full time bartender who gets paid shit and lives in a small one bedroom apartment gets sucked into the world and battles that are happening around you all at once, you just wish you could remain blissfully unaware, you'd prefer not to know others business, as it's never good, then you meet a girl named jinx, and you grow more and more attached, which has always been an issue for you, to make things worse, you not only have to make sure neither of your friends kill each other while being stuck in the middle.

word count: 907.

warnings: fluff angst suggestive themes, adult jinx still canon season 2 but not really I fear idk her confirmed age so just putting it out there, canon typical violence, found family, PTSD, pain, alcohol, reader is a bartender, mutual pinning, hurt/comfort, arcane season 2 spoilers!!!!.

Jinx. 

The name you are starting to hear a lot as of late, you’ve always heard whispers of her, some call her silco’s daughter, you could honestly almost believe the story yourself when you look at them standing by each other. 

But you know the truth more than others know. 

You weren’t even sure of your own part in the story here, in everyone else’s lives, Jinx stuck around you because she wanted to, and she claimed to like you, a lot, so much so that you ended up one day coming home and finding her laying on your bed, like it was nothing, knowing you did not mention where you stayed at all to really anyone. 

“Is this your place? Cool.” 

Jinx murmured, unbothered as there was a curious look in her eyes as she looked everywhere, going through your stuff without asking for permission, as you rolled your eyes in annoyance at her. 

“Do you have to be any more of a creep?” you asked, slightly disappointed but not surprised by this. 

It's not like the two of you sit down and discuss your feelings to each other, how the other makes the other feel, what you really mean to another, nope, none of that. Anytime you even ask Jinx about anything she gets pissed and walks off in a huff, having an attitude towards you, blaming you all of a sudden, you see how her cheeks get red as she stutters her words more than usual, its cute, but you just wish you two would fucking talk. 

“Yup.” 

You watch as Jinx goes through your clothes, pulls out some underwear and your sports bras, holding them up as she winks at you, you stare back dumbfounded. 

“fucking put that back-” 

Then it became more frequent visits to your apartment, well the one shitty bedroom apartment you could afford in this hole, for a while, you worked as a bartender, still do, you were good at your job, making customers happy as you made their drinks and put a smile on their face, you met so many people, that’s how you’d regularly see Jinx. 

She’d come to your bar just to talk shit and complain about everything and everyone, but you always ended up enjoying her presence the more she came, she didn’t even ask when you will be off or when your shift started, she didn’t care about those details, because she knew that already, you called her a stalker and she laughed loudly like it was the funniest thing she’s ever heard. 

Some days, Jinx bothered you more than anyone else could, you were so used to the solitied life that now you were longing for the connection of others. You hated it. The feeling that ate away at you, eating at your soul, your body, your flesh, your mind, heavily. And the one face you always saw that was a constant was her. 

And so, you grew attached. 

Unwillingly so.

She knew that, which is why she stayed around on purpose, because she knew how lonely you were deep down, you’d never admit it, but you like having her around, hearing her stupid jokes and her loud ass laughter, her non stop talking and rambling, it made everything less quiet, and it took your mind of a lot of things. That was kind of nice. 

You wondered if you were that to her as well. In a way. You weren’t sure. 

If you could grab her face by your hands and scream everything you wanted to say and more to her, you would. You just didn’t want to lose her. She could easily walk away and leave you behind, you couldn’t handle that. 

For a while, Jinx would randomly leave without a word for a couple of days, weeks even, you got sick of waiting for her, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, wanting to hear her voice again, it never came, until you woke up one night at three am, trying to get a decent sleep in when you felt warmth next to you and arms wrapping around your body, you freaked, almost stabbing the girl with the knife you always hide underneath your pillow for safety reasons, she chuckled, “my girl, so feisty, just the way I like them” she murmured. You stared confused at her, this isn’t the first time she’s invited herself over for the night, but something about tonight felt different, instead of wanting to cuss her out, you watched her fall asleep, she looked so at peace, it was strange. 

The next day you woke up to her trying to cook you breakfast as you threw your pillows at her, still annoyed as she acted like nothing happened, laughing. 

Then she found out you were friends with a certain pink haired girl and her blue haired lover. 

What a small world it is. 

It was hard though, and still you were going to do it regardless, you didn’t care what happened to yourself, you care too much, too little, it was all consuming, overwhelming you, that Jinx hopes even she doesn’t break you. 

Before you even do that to yourself. how much of a mess you were in between choosing your friends, being on their side or Jinx’s side, watching them chase after each other like crazy, as there was you, in the middle, making sure neither of them get too close for your liking. 

[imaginaryf1shots]

School Vigilante Pt.2 | Oscar Piastri

WC: 4062

Oscar x Childhood!friend!reader

Summery:(REQUESTED) You and Oscar finally reconnect after years of not seeing each other, also School reunion

Warning: Fighting, cursing?

Part 1

Masterlist

Oscar Masterlist

Oscar hesitates, taking a small step your way. You smile and walk his way; your arms open for him, and he then doesn’t hesitate after that. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in. You laugh almost not believing it.

“Oh, my fucking god Oscar, it’s been so long.” You say and he just holds you tighter.

“Too long.” Oscar says, and he reluctantly let’s go of you. Your smile makes him smile. He remembers how hard it was to get you to genuinely smile in school, but here you are now all smiley. You both just stare at the other for a moment, taking in all the changes, and everything that stayed the same. Lando coughs on the side and the moment is broke, Oscar looks at his teammate and raises an eyebrow. “You know you brought a Red Bull athlete into our motorhome, right?”

Lando groans and throws his head back. “Don’t remind me.”

It was only after the Free Practices that you and Oscar are able to meet up. You had to spend the time in the Red Bull garage, you agreed to meet by the McLaren motorhome. And when Oscar comes out he sees you waiting for him there.

“You know it’s unbelievable that we haven’t share our phone numbers yet.” Oscar says coming up to you, he kept thinking about how he wouldn’t find you, how that was it, the logical part said that he now knows you’re friends with Lilly and could get your number from her. All that didn’t matter though because here you are, waiting for him.

“Is that your way of asking me for my number?” You tease him and a slight flush covers his cheeks, before he sheepishly nods. “Give me your phone then.”

You both exchange your phones and put in your numbers.

Oscar goes back to his hotel to change, and you meet him there later in one of the dinning rooms. You share a quick hug when you meet again before settling down and ordering.

“You know I told you, you’d make it to Formula 1.” You say with a grin, Oscar can’t help but smile.

“Yeah, was a bit rocky start but I still can’t believe it sometimes.” He tells you.

“I’m sure with the whole Alpine thing.” Oscar looks surprised that you knew about it. “Didn’t think I’d keep up with what you’re up to?”

“Not really.”

“Best rookie in F1 history after Lewis Hamilton?” You say feeling proud of him.

“Okay, okay. I get it.” Oscar then turns the conversation towards you. “What about you? signed by Red Bull, in TWO sports and being a world champion in one and coming up second in the other.”

You shrug and play with the napkin, feeling embarrassed yourself that the conversation turned to you. “Not as big of a deal as driving for Formula 1.”

“I beg to differ, not many cared about Formula 1 until a few years ago, didn’t make it any less amazing, same with you.” Oscar wouldn’t have you doubting how amazing you are.

The food comes and you talk about everything and anything all while eating. The conversations and the laughs flowed easily. As if time didn’t pass from the moment, you stopped talking all those years ago.

Sadly, the night had to come to an end, Oscar had FP3 and Quali the next day and he had to rest as much as possible.

“I have a week off, after Japan.” Oscar throws out there, he’s going to take the chance and just ask you out, like he should’ve all those years ago. “Are you free?”

“I am, what country are you going to be in?”

“The UK.”

“Hmm, I can make it.”

“So, you’ll go on a date with me.”

“Of course.” You’re both a smiling mess, happy to have finally taken another step in your relationship.

It wasn’t just one date; it was multiple dates. It was tricky to juggle both your schedules, two athletes in the middle of their seasons. But you best face time was on whenever you could. You were there in Hungary when Oscar got his first win, the relationship was still fresh so you both decided to keep it on the low. You got to celebrate with him after. There were lots of hugs and kisses involved, because no matter what anyone says, he deserved that win and no one could take it away from him.

You did meet his family in Singapore, they were all so welcoming and nice. His mum scolded you for putting yourself in danger all those years ago, even if you’re trained and it was to save her son. His sisters thought you’re so cool for it.

They looked you up online and saw videos of what you do.

“You know I tried DM-ed you when you got signed by McLaren.” You told him one day, you were at your house, chilling.

“Really?” Oscar frowned and took out his phone, opening his Instagram, he clicked on your name and then opened the messages and saw that you did in fact text him. “I didn’t see that at all.”

“It’s understandable.” You tell him, not feeling offended, you’ve seen how his DMs could look like. “But I was so proud of you, and I still am.”

“Thank you, you always believed I’d make it to Formula 1.” Oscar looked at you, his hand resting on your knee. You were siting on the small sofa, tilted to face each other, your leg was tucked under your butt, resting on his thigh, while the other was placed on the ground. Now Oscar was rubbing your knee, and you were close together, a whisper would be heard clearly between the two of you.

“That means, I’m always right.” You tease him and smile; Oscar returns the smile.

“I don’t mind you always being right.” Oscar said and you giggled. “You know, I had the biggest crush on you when we were in school.”

“Well, I also had the biggest crush on you.” You admit both of you blushing.

“I flet like you had no interest in me, whatsoever.” Oscar says frowning.

“You did have the biggest fan club in school, I didn’t want you thinking I was one of them.” You tell him the truth, now that you’re together, there was no shame in saying that. “But now, I’m your biggest fan.”

“I guess you are.” You don’t know when he got this close, but his face is so close to you, you could feel his breath on your skin. Oscar doesn’t hesitate to lean in and place his lips on yours. It’s not your first kiss, but he always leaves you breathless.

Red Bull invited you back to the paddock to film more content, since people loved you with Max in the first one. This time it would be a bigger production. They had you come in and get dressed in Assassin’s Creed-esk outfit. They sat up everything for the filming. You walked through the plan with the director of the video and what they had in mind.

“Can you do that?” Checo who was standing next to you with a Red bull in his hand asked.

You gave him a fake offended look. “I’ll manage.”

“No wires, right?” The director double checked, and you nodded with a confident smile.

“No wires.”

It was really simple, the scene began with you on top of the Red Bull Pit wall, they filmed you as if you’re looking around for something. Before you saw it, you flipped off the building and landed on your feet crouched down, before you ran to the fence climbed it easily. While holding the top of the fence you flipped yourself over it and climbed down, there were the two Red Bull cars waiting for you. They had  a few obstacles waiting for you, that you jumped over or under, the last one was a tall almost a wall, you were on top before you flipped twice in the air and landed in a super hero pose, right in between the cars. And looked up to the camera, the cape they had clipped to your face, threw enough shadow to show the bottom half of face, and you were smirking. The add ended with you in the car drinking Red Bull, with your cape off, and driving away in the car.

You off course didn’t drive the car, but that’s the power of editing.

It took a few takes for the director to take the shots that he wanted. It had to all be done fast, before the paddock got super busy. It was early on media day, but some teams were already present, and fans were filling up.

Oscar made it so he could come early and watch you. A camera crew from F1TV was present to film some behind the scenes footage. And Oscar was caught staring at you with a smile. He was even seen taking a video of you from his spot behind the barrier they made so no one would walk into the filming space.

Later on when he was doing his media duties, he was asked about it.

“You seemed interested in the parkour ad Red Bull was filming, we got a few shots of you filming it.” The interviewer stated. Now you and Oscar started your relationship with wanting it to be private, but as the time went on, you both wanted to be there to cheer each other on, and it’s been 9 months already since you started dating. You’ve had talks about going public with it, so Oscar just took it in his hands.

“Yeah, it’s always amazing to see y/n, doing her things in real life.” Oscar knew he’d be asked more about it. He said your name so casually that it was obvious that he knew you.

“Oh, you know her?” The interviewer asked.

“I would like to think so, we’re dating.” That got the attention of everyone.

“Then if you don’t mind me asking, how did you meet, it seems a bit random. Was it when she came to Red Bull a few months ago?”

“No, we met in school.” Oscar laughed remembering how you met. “She saved me from a beating.”

“A beating? Could you elaborate?”

“Yeah, I was walking back to school late one day and I was jumped by 2 drunk guys, suddenly this person comes out of nowhere, dressed in all black, had a black hoodie, hat and face mask even. She kicked them around, a few times, threw a few punches and had them down on the ground long enough for us to escape. I didn’t know who it was, only that it was a girl, since I saw her hair, but that was it. It was later by accident that I knew it was her.”

“And is that when you started dating?” The interviewer was so intrigued by this point.

“No, we stayed friends, and the next year she moved schools, and we lost contact.” Oscar says, this is probably the most they had him talking in an interview ever. “We got back in contact when she came to the Japan Grand Prix.”

“That’s a lovely story Oscar, we’re happy for you.”

“Thank you, I’m happy too.”

“Any reason as to why, my social media is blowing up with F1 followers?” You asked Oscar when you met him for lunch that day. “And I’m being called the coolest WAG ever?”

“I may have spilled that we are dating.” Oscar said apologetically.

“Thought so.” You wait for a moment, to make him feel a little pressure, before you smile. “Now, everyone knows you’re taken.”

“Me? Didn’t you see all those men watching you today?” Oscar tried to sound nonchalant, but it was clear he was feeling a bit jealous.

“Good thing I only like you then.” Oscar took your hand in his and smiled, happy, content.

Oscar won, he won fare and square, and no one could even say anything this time. He won and you were here to see it. Better yet, you were in Parc Ferma with his team. Oscar came running to his team and they hugged and pulled him. Oscar then took off his helmet and walked towards you. You threw your hands out waiting for him to walk in. Oscar didn’t wait, he pulled you as close as he could with the barrier between you, he pulled back just enough to plant a kiss to your lips. You help his cheek and smile though it.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” You tell him not being able to stop smiling.

“Thank you.” With another kiss he was pulled way for weighing and interviews.

You’re on the bed in Oscar’s hotel room. When you get an email from your old school, you frown and open it. reading it you smile to yourself in amusement. Oscar is in the bathroom showering.

“You won’t believe what email, I just got.” You tell him and don’t wait for him to respond. “Our school just sent me an email for a reunion, I didn’t even graduate from there, and they sent me an email.”

“Yeah, but you were at the school for years.” Oscar says and you only then notice how he has the towel wrapped low on his waist. Your phone is placed beside you, and Oscar notices your eyes, he remembers the talk you had earlier to day and smirks. He turns around acting as if he’s looking for his clothes, giving you full view of his back and shoulders.

“Oscaaar.” You whine, knowing what he’s doing.

“What?” He asks nonchalant.

“You know what.” You get off the bed and wrap your arms around him, your front flushed to his back, hands on his abdomen, you’re not even sorry when you untuck his towel and it falls to the ground. Oscar sucks in a breath and turns around.

“So are we going?” You ask, still a little breathless, your head was on his shoulder, while his arms wrapped around your waist, skin on skin.

“What?” Oscar asks confused.

“To the reunion.”

“Oh, yeah, why not.”

There was an option for people to go early a couple days and have dinner together before the big thing. Since you and Oscar had that time off you decided to go, Oscar wanted to meet his friend from school anyways.

You shared the same hotel and everything. Since you and Oscar arrived and sat together, you had no idea how no one clocked that you’re together. You both weren’t big on PDA but a person can read the room. It didn’t bother you much anyways.

A long table was sat up from all of you to sit, Oscar saved the seat next to him for his friend, but in front of him sat Saddie. You both didn’t pay her any mind, since you didn’t have friends, Oscar included you in the conversation with his friend, before a girl sat next to you. She asked you your name and that got you both talking. You weren’t friends in school, but people change, and you found that if she was like that back in school you would’ve been friends, not that she was a bad person or anything, just some people don’t mesh well together.

“So Oscar how are you?” Saddie suddenly asks, she was obnoxiously loud, gaining the attention of everyone around her, she patted her mascara caked lashes a few times.

“I’m good.” He said not knowing why she’s talking to him.

“You’re not going to ask about how I’m doing?” She pouted and rested her chin on her hand. “I did save you.”

That got a few people talking, Oscar glanced at you, and you shook your head. You don’t mind that everyone still believes she saved Oscar.

“Uh, that was so long ago.” Oscar stated not really wanting to engage with her.

“Come on Oscar, she still saved you.” One guy a few seats down said, other chimed in.

“Doesn’t matter how long ago it was.”

“Who knows where you’d be if it weren’t for her.”

It was clear that Oscar wasn’t going to say anything. He isn’t one to fall victim to peer-pressure.

“Come on guys, leave him be, he’s got so much on his mind, now that he’s a formula 1 driver and all that.” Saddie lets out a fake giggle and BLINKED again.

When everyone ate and moved a bit around, you went to the restroom. Saddie walks up to Oscar swinging her hips left and right, not that Oscar noticed. She walks in on the conversation he was having and giggles. Oscar and two guys he was talking to all looked at her a little weirded out.

“So Oscar have you been thinking about me at all?” Saddie asked and placed her hand on his bicep. “Wow, you must really work out.”

“Uh.” Oscar was clearly uncomfortable, he took a step back, making her hand fall to her side.

“You don’t have to act all shy with me, after all we have history.” Saddie said and Oscar’s eyes went wide.

“H-history? We don’t!” Oscar hoped you didn’t hear what she said and believed her, but he couldn’t see you.

“I mean about me saving you.” She laughs a very fake and ‘seductive’ laugh. “You have a dirty mind, but I don’t care, means you’re thinking about me.”

Oscar looked at the two guys wanting them to save him, they all just laughed at his predicament. Just then his phone went off and he knew instantly who it was. He picked up the phone and answered walking away from the group.

“Hello.”

“Let’s go.”

“I’m heading out.” You stayed on the line but said nothing. Oscar found you by the car, he went straight to you and pulled you in for a hug. “God, you saved me again.”

“Looked like you needed it, and I’m tired of Saddie, she’s pissing me off.” You said and Oscar kissed your cheek before opening the door for you. “What did she want now anyways?” You asked once you were both in the car and settled.

“Just bullshit, said we had history and if I think about her.” Oscar didn’t really want to tell you, but he’s honest he doesn’t like the idea of you two hiding things from each other.

“I suddenly don’t like the idea of us coming.” You tell Oscar honestly, you’re irritated and you’re protective, you saw and can still see how uncomfortable this all made Oscar.

“We don’t have to go tomorrow.” Oscar tells you and puts his hand on your knee. You think it over for a second.

“No, we should go and show them we’re together and maybe finally say the truth.” You take his hand in yours and he takes it to his lips and places a kiss on the back on your hand.

“I already told the media, it’s about time they all know it too.”

The next day you and Oscar dress to impress, not anyone really but you love dressing up, and Oscar does what you want.

“You look beautiful.” Oscar said hugging you from behind, you leaned back into him. He kisses the side of your head. You’re looking at each other in the mirror.

“And you look handsome… wait! Let’s take a picture.” You get out of his arms long enough to get your phone, you’re back in his arms and you snap a few photos before you head out for the night.

Walking into the venue you’re holding hands, there’s no mistaking your relationship now. A few people turn their heads and talk, and you know they haven’t matured at all since they left school. You and Oscar smile at each other.

You walk up to one of the tables sat aside both placing the name tags for the other. You start mingling and some ask you about your relationship and you confirm that you are dating.

Saddie came “fashionably” late, strutting in as if she’s walking on a runway. She was pulled aside by one of her friends and was told about the ‘new’ development between you and Oscar. Her face turned red; she felt betrayed.

She walked towards you two, while you were laughing at a story Oscar told you.

“Oscar and y-y/n is it?” she clearly knew your name but acted as if she’s trying to remember it, and it was on your name tag as well.

“Yes, hi, we never talked before.” You replied with a sickly-sweet tone and a smile. “But I believe you’ve been very talkative with my boyfriend.”

“So, it’s true then, you’re dating.” She glares at you, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Yes.” Oscar said and wrapped a hand around your waist, giving you a smile that you returned. You heard her scoff, making you both look at her.

“B-but how? And since when?” It seemed like Saddie couldn’t take a hint; her face got red with agitation.

“Hm, well we started talking in school after she saved me-“

“Saved you?! I saved you! why are you always denying it?” Saddie cuts Oscar off her voice rising, more heads turned to face your group, the talk began.

“Not true.” You told her, your gaze cold and unforgiving. “I helped him, not you.”

“YOU? You, goody two shoes? You were out of campus after hours?”

“Yes, me, and you’re a liar.” Your tone didn’t waver or fill with any emotions.

“You bitch!” Your hand on Oscar is what stopped him from moving or saying anything. “I know what happened that night, how would I know that. Huh?”

“We asked ourselves the same thing.” Oscar said. “Only explanation is you knew the guys who tried to attack me.”

“No!” She answered to fast, and her eyes went to the people around, it was clear she was lying. “I-I didn’t, I don’t. Stop lying.”

As a way of distraction, she tried to lunge for you, but you just side stepped her last second, and with her very high heels she tripped and fell.

“Unless you lost the ‘training’ you had all those years ago, you’re not the one that helped Oscar.” You say and crouch down beside her, she’s slowly getting up, there’s blood coming from her mouth, looks like she cut her lip and broke a tooth. “Also don’t you date touch or talk to my boyfriend again, if you know what’s good for you.”

She tried to lunge for you, but you were already up and walking away, once she stood up and tried to walk towards you, she crumbled again clutching her ankle. No one moved to help her, all her ‘friends’ are now ashamed of her for her involvement with the group responsible for attacking Oscar.

“Let’s go.” Oscar said and took your hand in his, you left the party, not sparing anyone another glance. Oscar didn’t let go of you, you walked around the campus, went to where you used to train, before Oscar took you outside. You weren’t really paying attention, just enjoying having Oscar with you, your hand in his, and the night breeze.

Oscar then stopped you looked up at him, only to find him already staring at you.

“This is it.”

“What?” You asked confused, you had no idea what he was talking about.

“This is where we first met.” Oscar says and you look around.

“It is.” Your eyes go back to Oscar, and you smile.

“You know, I believe out lives changed that day.” Oscar admits taking both of your hands in his. “You didn’t just save me, you changed me life, I’m thankful every day that I came late, and that everything went the way it did, because then I met you, I got to know you, and now I love you.”

“Oscar.” You felt emotional. “I love you too, and I’m also very thankful and grateful that I was out that day, meeting you has been the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

You couldn’t take it anymore and just hugged him, your arms around his neck and his around your waist. Your bodies flushed together, you only lean your heads back to share a kiss, right where you first met, and where everything began.

Main Taglist: @gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03 . @schniti-is-in-the-house . @lottalove4evelyn . @eywas-heir . @glow-ish . @lilypat . @directioner5life . @a-beaverhausen

[curtins]

I LOVE YOU, I'M SORRY — gojo satoru

prologue. → gojo was always charming, maddening and impossibly brilliant. a gift and a curse to the world. the love of your life, the loss of your life, the one that got away. you can only sit alone with his cold, lifeless form and wonder where it all went wrong. how do you mourn a star that burned itself out for the sake of the sky?

pairing. gojo satoru x on/off ex!reader

warnings+. heavy angst, flashbacks of a whirlwind and not so healthy relationship, description of death and injuries and what comes after the heart stops beating, suggestive content but nothing explicit. u could interpret this as unreliable narrator who didn't quite see gojo properly, or that gojo just wasn't a good partner to keep things interesting?

word count. 1.9k song inspiration. i love you, i'm sorry — gracie abrams

a/n. this was actually meant to be sweet but suddenly reader became an ex. and well...it snowballed 😁 peep the ttpd reference in the prologue

mp3. a habit to kick, the age-old curse. i tend to laugh whenever i'm sad, i stare at the crash, it actually works. making amends, this shit never ends. i'm wrong again.

there was no funeral for gojo.

and right now, the room smells of heavy antiseptics and medicated disinfectant. sterile white walls seem to echo every tick, tick of the clock, every scrape of shoko's surgical tools against the metal tray. but there is little that cuts deeper than the silence.

gojo's body lies in four neat pieces on the long table, stitched in places that cannot possibly hold him together, laid out like a broken constellation. shoko has allowed you to stay here, perhaps some form of pity?

you just sit in the corner of the lab, knees pulled to your chest and trembling with the effort it takes to keep breathing.

gojo satoru was always meant to burn out, wasn't he? he had been a lit match, vibrant and untouchable, like a streak of blue wildfire that seared much too hot, too fast.

satoru had been bruised fingertips on your rocking hips, he had been clashing teeth and tugged cherry-bitten lips, sweet caramel dissolving on your tongue.

he had been screaming matches in the rain, slams of an apartment door, a vicious and cruel tongue when provoked.

what he wasn't meant to be was a multitude of patchwork pieces, coated in patches of day-old rusty blood and shards of bone.

you just didn't think that someone like him belonged in this fragile, porcelain world. gojo had laughed too loud for it, fought too hard, loved too recklessly. its bitter to think of now — a cosmic power in a body of flesh and blood.

how could someone like him have ever lived to see his twilight years?

but you still always thought that he would. you thought of his arrogance, the small curl of his lips as he crowed on with a shadow in his jewel-tone eyes, "don't worry, i'm the strongest, remember?"

and so, you thought you had time. time to heal wounds that you had both inflicted on each other. time to try again.

but now there was no time. no gojo. just you, left to pick up the pieces of sukuna's little mercy.

shoko works quietly, and her hands are steady, a mask pulled over her face as tools gleam under the harsh light. she's running stitches through flesh that was once warm under your skin. you watch as she runs rolls of small bandages over his bisected waist, bandages imbued with special spells for gojo's posthumous...plan.

"i can't promise anything, you know. even if i put him back together, it will never be him. just okkotsu." the shadows around shoko's pretty eyes are ever deeper, violet and blue bruising the tired ache that paints her face.

what an awful and cruel plan. the ache in your heart is too great to even consider the trial that the young yuta is yet to face, to have to step into another's body. what a perversion of the world. but your mind lingers on the harsh reality that gojo must have known that there was no other ending to this story.

and you wonder briefly about whether he had finally reached the peace that he had sought. whether that those last moments, lying in the snow like a butchered and wounded animal had been painless. had the world gone quiet in his ears as snow fell around him? had he been glad of the end?

you don't respond to shoko. what could you say? there's nothing to fix. gojo is gone, and no amount of polypropylene sutures or reverse cursed technique could sew him back into the man who had leaned against the doorframe of your room last week, grinning with his haori thrown around his shoulders.

"you just take things too seriously," he had teased, mirth tickling his voice, poking around for a provocation, "i didn't even mean it like that. let's go get something to eat downstairs." "fuck you, satoru!" you had been furious with him at the time, he had drawn your ire with some pointless tussle and barbed comment. you had been launching a comb at him which only just deflected away from his infinity, when he had laughed. "all right, let me know when you feel better, pretty," and he had tugged his haori back over his broad frame, "we can do other things too, if you like. y'know, if you're still feeling hot-headed." "get out, you dog!" "love you too." and the great gojo satoru, a fuckin' grown man, has just giggled. and winked audaciously, as he practically sauntered away.

now his ridiculous smile is a ghost, and you wonder if you’ll ever stop seeing it when you close your eyes.

you've risen from your chair slowly, every joint stiff as if the grief has taken root in your bones, curling poison ivy around your limbs that make you want to tear your nails into your own skin.

the surgical table feels close, too far, too unbearable. but you reach out still, as your fingers tremble, and you let them hover over whatever is left of him. it's his right arm, only loosely held together by rough stitches.

touching him now is like plunging your hand into a winter river. it's cold, unyielding and so profoundly wrong. the skin beneath your fingers has lost all the elasticity of life, no longer soft of warm, but stiff in an alien way. there's a bitter clinging in the back of your throat when you wonder how shoko does this everyday. it's like touching the husk of something that was once sacred to you, and you trace the faint lines of veins, now a ghostly blue beneath waxen skin. the arm is heavy, dead weight against the table.

and there's the smell, faint but inescapable. the metallic tang of blood, now dried to a dark, rusted maroon. it lingers in the air, and you close your eyes to stop yourself from losing the contents of your stomach.

It’s like touching the husk of something once sacred, a relic robbed of its divine warmth.

your hand trembles as you pull away, the cold clinging to your palm like a memory you can’t shake. you want to scrub it off, to erase the feeling, but it’s already etched into your skin, into your mind. the absence of warmth feels like a punishment, a reminder of what you’ve lost and what you can never have back.

"i should've —" the words choke in your throat, sharp and jagged. you swallow them, but they’re stuck, just like the tears that refuse to fall. "i should've done more."

shoko glances up, her gaze as piercing as the scalpels she wields. "you did everything you could. so did satoru."

your eyes blur as they fix on his lifeless form, but now you're no longer seeing cold flesh on the table. no, you're somewhere else, far softer and far sweeter. somewhere before the world had turned to ash in your hands.

you're seventeen again, standing outside your favourite bakery after school, laughing so hard your ribs hurt. because gojo had just tried to bribe the shop owner for an extra box of mochi with a lopsided grin and misguided charm. the elderly woman behind the till had told him to get lost, before muttering something about the youths of the day were rude geezers.

gojo had always been like that, over the top and dramatic, dragging you into his whirlwind without asking, but you hadn't minded. not then.

every day he had brought home something, a sugar-dusted pastry, a delicate cake, a flimsy excuse to see you smile as he'd thrust the treat into your hands like he had conquered the world, and didn't he say that there was nothing in the world as sweet as your kisses?

you drank him in like honey, not realising how it would one day sour on your tongue.

and you still remember the day that gojo came home, buzzing with energy, his usual swagger somehow dialed up to an eleven. he could barely sit still as you watched him pace your shared apartment, his words tumbling out in excited burst. you had laughed and asked what on earth was going on with your sweet boyfriend, but had only grinned before reaching into his pocket and kneeling on the worn, wooden floor.

the ring had been small and simple, a thin silver band with a single shining gem — but knowing the spending habits of the head of the gojo clan, it must have been illustrious in its price. wide-eyed and earnest, for once, he had been stripped of all his bravado.

"i'm going to marry you," he had said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. as if you weren't already his, body and soul. heart and hands.

god, you had wanted this more than anything. you had said yes, a squealing and gushing yes! gojo had slipped the ring on your finger with hands that shook just a little, and the two of you had...rechristened almost every surface in the apartment that night.

but then, it was over. slowly at first, like the creeping edge of frost, until one day it felt like you were standing in the middle of a blizzard.

the kisses turned sharp, fleeting, like a blade grazing your skin. loving hands became cold and distant on one another, pulling away as if the other’s touch burned. you started slamming doors in anger, avoiding him in the quiet spaces of your home. and when you couldn’t avoid him, your words became weapons, dripping with venom and spite. he gave as good as he got — every snarky comment from your lips was met with one from his. pride clashed with pride, and neither of you would bend, not even for love.

the breaking point came after that mission. the one where everything had gone wrong. a cursed spirit of impossible strength. you’d taken a blow meant for him — too fast, too reckless — and nearly didn’t come back from it. you remember the blood, the way it soaked into the earth beneath you as gojo shouted your name over and over again, a sound you thought might split the sky.

you’d lived, somehow, but the cracks in your foundation were too wide to ignore. that night, you’d stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at the ring on your finger, and finally let yourself bawl. when you’d slipped it off, it felt like your heart had gone with it.

what gojo didn’t know — what he never found out, would never find out now — was that you hadn’t discarded it. you couldn’t. even in the worst of it, when the fights left you shattered and raw, you couldn’t let it go. the tiny band of silver stayed tucked in your pocket, a quiet weight against your heart, a reminder of what could’ve been.

now, as you sit here, staring at what’s left of him, that weight feels unbearable. you reach into your pocket, your fingers brushing against the cool metal, and pull it out. the gem glints faintly in the fluorescent light, as if mocking you.

i still loved you, you think, the words echoing hollowly in your chest. i’m sorry.

but it’s too late now. too late for apologies, too late for second chances, too late for anything but this — grief that swallows you whole, a storm with no end in sight.

the ring slips from your trembling hand, clinking softly as it falls to the floor.

[fuctacles]

<< ok fine i give up i lost track of the cat emojis. this is part 8

Eddie wakes up late the next day but isn't surprised to find his uncle sitting at the kitchen table with a coffee and a crossword puzzle in front of him. Tormenting his nephew has been his favorite pastime now that he is stuck at home, so of course he would wait for him to emerge from his room.

"Didn't catch you coming back last night. Must have left Stephanie's awfully late, huh?" he asks nonchalantly, tapping his pen against the paper without looking up. 

"Mhm," Eddie hums, reaching for his favorite mug. 

"Did Miss Stephanie arrive late?"

"She did." He tries to focus on making coffee, and not on his uncle's prying questions. 

"Did she hold you back?" the man presses, unrelenting.

"We talked for a bit," Eddie eventually admits.

"How long?"

He fills up his mug with a frown before turning towards his uncle. 

"What is this? A crime interrogation?" he raises his eyebrow with annoyance. 

"I don't know." Wayne shrugs, finally looking up from his crossword to study his face. "Has a crime been committed?"

"I'm not banging your neighbor," Eddie hisses at his father figure with disdain. "Stop asking about it!"

His uncle sighs but seems to accept his defeat, at least for now. 

"All I ask is that you keep an open mind. I don't think she'd be against the idea," he gives his last two cents before hiding behind the newspaper like a coward. "I know you're not," he adds under his breath.

Eddie barely catches it, but it makes his skin crawl with heat. He's beyond denying it at this point but he won't admit it either. If Stephanie ever makes a move, he won't say no, but he doesn't want to presume anything. Or worse, make her uncomfortable.

"I'm going to my room," he declares, carrying his coffee away.

A couple of days later, Eddie is standing in front of a hair salon, staring at the handwritten note on the door. 

We close at 4 PM today, sorry for the inconvenience!

The opening times above declare that on weekdays, the shop should be open an hour longer, and Eddie worries that he misunderstood Stephanie's words. She told him to come in around 4 PM and she'll give him a haircut. But through the glass door, he can see her swiping the floor while talking to another hairdresser, a tiny woman who's cleaning up her station. It looks like they're closing up.

Then Stephanie looks up and spots him standing there like a dumbass, and she smiles, motioning him inside. So he pushes the door, moving the tiny bell above as he walks in. 

"Hi," he says, nodding to the unfamiliar woman. "Am I too late? Or too early?" 

Stephanie shakes her head, quickly putting the broom away. 

"You're perfectly on time," she assures him. "You can leave your jacket there and pick whichever chair you like. Do you want something to drink? Tea, coffee, water?" she asks, already halfway to what he assumes is the backroom.

"Coffee would be great," he says a little stunned, shaking his heavy leather jacket off his arms. He feels extremely out of place in a space usually frequented by gossiping ladies. In the waiting area, there's a stack of fashion magazines on top a tiny round table, and two huge colorful armchairs. He throws his things on one of them before sauntering to the station that's furthest away from the street, wary of the peering eyes.

There are some in the salon with him, though. 

"So you're Steph's special guest, huh?" the other co-worker asks conversationally. 

"Uh, I'm just her neighbor," he corrects, not sure what the woman has been told.

She hums, giving her station a thorough wipe.

"She wouldn't close early for just any neighbor," she counters. "Give yourself some credit." She smiles at him through the mirror and disappears into the backroom before he can react or even process her words.

"Sorry for the wait!" Stephanie joins him soon after. "I hope Joyce didn't grill you much," she says, putting a mug of coffee in front of him.

"Well," Eddie wraps his hand around the hot ceramic. "She just called me your special guest." He wants to pry much more than that, but he knows the other woman, Joyce, can be within hearing distance. 

"You kind of are." Stephanie tilts her head thoughtfully, before turning his chair around, so they can only look at each other through the mirror. "All my friends get special treatment."

"Of course," Eddie nods, torn between being happy and devastated by being called a friend. 

"Unless you don't want to be friends with an old lady," she pouts.

What he wants is to suck on that bottom lip. 

"You're not old!"

He startles when his voice is echoed, but it's just Joyce emerging from the back. She moves the jacket and bag she's holding to free one of her hands and smacks Stephanie on the shoulder. 

"Listen to the boy if you're not gonna listen to me," she says heatedly. "If you're old then I should be dead. Now come here."

With an exasperated sigh, Stephanie leans down so Joyce can press a kiss on her cheek. 

"I'm leaving, you kids don't do anything unsanitary, okay?"

"Joyce!" 

She moves like a hurricane of energy and despite her teasing, Eddie can't help but smile. Joyce seems like the kind of person who treats everyone like her kids. 

"What are you doing?" Stephanie asks suspiciously when Joyce hesitates by the door. 

"I'm just gonna..." she trails off before starting to pull down the blinds on both the door and the windows. "So nobody bothers you two," she explains with a charming smile. "Okay, bye!" the bell finally chimes as she heads out. "I'll see you tomorrow!" 

"See you!" 

Eddie barely lifts his hand for a wave before there's just the two of them. 

Stephanie breathes out and walks up to the door to lock it. The fact that they are now alone and hidden in a public space makes him hot under the collar. She could do to him anything she wanted right now. 

Like cutting his split ends and conditioning his hair, of course. 

"So." A radio buzzes to life, though it gets immediately turned to a lower volume. "As the one forced to sit there and endure my treatment, you get to pick the station," Stephanie smiles at him and he instructs her to his and Wayne's favorite frequency. The soft that starts playing is very quiet, and with the closed-off space he's found himself in, he feels like he's tripping. 

"Do you have anything in mind?"

So many things but nothing appropriate to say out loud. 

"Didn't you have a plan for me?" he raises an eyebrow at her reflection while she's thoughtfully tugging on his hair. 

"Yes, but mostly haircare. And I don't know what's popular in the metalhead hair fashion right now."

He chuckles at that.

"Just keeping them long and adding some tease now and then. Nothing as extreme as punk's liberty spikes," he assures. 

"Gotcha. But if you think of anything, let me know."

"You got it," he smiles. 

i feel weird tagging only one person here but: @wheneverfeasible

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 11

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10

Steve waits until everyone’s gone home to open the letter. Chrissy had ribbed him over not sharing but, no matter how supportive she is, she just doesn’t get it—she can’t. No matter what she’s shared, her and Jeff are clearly dating. And even if they hadn’t been, Jeff likes girls. The worst thing that would’ve happened is him turning her down.

With Eddie? The worst thing that could happen is total annihilation.

And Steve’s never been good at holding himself back. He cares fast, and he cares hard, and he can never quite stop, no matter what changes, or how much distance he puts between himself and the other person. Look at Nancy, and Tommy, and Carol, and his parents, and every single relationship he’s had where he’s all in, and the other person never meets him. He doesn’t even need halfway, hell, he’d take a quarter.

But even that’s never how it works out. If there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that Steve Harrington is too much, always.

So, if his fingers shake as he opens the letter, who can blame him?

But, inside is everything he could have ever asked for—Because you’re it, baby. He caresses the words, fingers trembling, heart shuddering in his chest to a beat that sounds a lot like, “maybe, maybe, maybe.”

He knows it’s stupid. This letter isn’t for Steve, not really. It’s Chrissy’s face Eddie pictured when he wrote it, Chrissy’s lips he imagined kissing, Chrissy’s hand he imagined holding. But, it’s hard to remember, when there’s such longing on the page in front of him.

He doesn’t know what to say, thoughts running too fast to pick them out and write them down. He tries, pen stuttering over the page in half-formed sentences, until he’s left with:

  Eddie —

  You don’t want to know what I

  Someone has loved you. I love

  I’ll take anything you

  Fuck

Hee crumples the letter up into a ball, and tosses it across the room toward the trash bin. He shoots, he misses, he lays down with all the lights still on.

Steve stares down at Eddie’s letter, helpless in the face of the bubbling hope, unwilling to squash it. He folds the letter back up and puts it under his pillow, hoping for dreams, just like Eddie had said.

He doesn’t.

Steve’s tired the next morning, zoning out during class, and shuffling through the halls like a zombie. Chrissy keeps sending him worried looks, and even Robin asks if he’s okay in Mrs. Click’s class, which she was right, they do share.

Steve tells her he’s just tired, and she drops it, but there’s a sad, knowing smile on her face.

It happens at lunch. Eddie jumps up on his lunch table, boots thudding loudly against its metal surface, drawing all eyes in the room toward him. Everyone looks away, familiar with his tabletop rants by now, but Steve can’t look away.

Eddie’s magnetic when he’s like this, a black hole swirling everything up in its path. Steve doesn’t want to miss a thing, barely blinks as Eddie begins the familiar walk across the Hellfire table.

“Forced conformity, folks—it’s what’s killing the kids!” he cries, clapping fast to punctuate the sentence. Across Steve’s own table, Tommy boos, gaining momentum when the people around him laugh and join in. “Oh, don’t act so high and mighty, Hagan, you’re the worst of all.”

He’s grinning, but it’s not the dimpled one. He’s just baring his teeth, a predator scenting blood. “You’re all so focused on shooting balls in laundry baskets, like that’s all there is, but guess what? You’re going to be a washed-up has-been before you’re even out of this school.”

He takes a few steps forward, eyes straying from Tommy farther up the table, making it clear he’s talking to all of them. “You don’t realize that daddy’s money’s gonna dry up, and you’ll be left with a wife and three kids you don’t even like, reliving the old glory days like they were even worth remembering.”

“Come say that to my face, Munson!” Tommy cries, standing up from the table as the rest of them egg him on.

Eddie makes a little rock and roll symbol and smirks, like that’s exactly what he wanted Tommy to say. “And you know what? That’s all you’ll deserve for the shit you’ve pulled. A sad lonely life with your sad flaccid dick.”

And suddenly, he’s looking right at Steve, gaze piercing straight through Steve and into his soft, squishy underbelly. There’s blood in the water, and by Eddie’s laugh, he can taste it. “You’ve earned it,” he says, not even blinking, his eyes so intense Steve can’t breath with it. “After all, once a jock, always a jock.”

Chrissy links their fingers and squeezes his hand beneath the table. Steve blinks, spell broken as he squeezes her back in thanks. He looks down at his remaining chicken nuggets, appetite gone.

“You okay?” Chrissy asks, barely audible with all the continued heckling.

Steve glances up just in time to watch Eddie jump down from the table and plop his ass down like none of it happened at all. He’s laughing as Jeff and Gareth pat his back, but he looks deflated, like the whole spectacle took everything out of him.

“I will be,” Steve replies, pushing his lunch tray away.

If nothing else, he has something to write now.

*** 

Eddie can’t get the look on Harrington’s face out of his mind. He’d been at the top of his game, riling the jocks up enough that Hagan had jumped up like a jack-in-the-box. But, then he’d looked at Harrington, and it’d all gone wrong.

The guy was drooping into himself, mouth down-turned, eyes like a kicked puppy. Eddie stuttered, got caught up in him, something unnameable stuck in his throat. Eddies doesn’t even know what he’d said after that, couldn’t hear himself think much less speak, until Harrington finally looked down at the tabletop and their eye contact broke. 

Now he’s stumbling over his words, trying not to even look Harrington’s way as he finishes off his speech. It lacks the usual oomph, but Eddie doesn’t care; he just wants the whole thing to end.

Eddie stumbles down into his chair, shuddering through his smile as Gareth and Doug elbow him in the side, ribbing him good-naturedly. He chokes out a laugh, and doesn’t look at the jock’s table for the rest of lunch.

The next time he sees Harrington, there’s another complication to contend with in the form of Robin Buckley, best known for her proficiency on the trumpet and quirky outfits. And now? She’s best known for attaching herself like a barnacle to Harrington’s side.

Except, if she was a barnacle, Harrington might at least try to shake her off. But, no. He just smiles at her, and whispers with her, as she inserts herself between Chrissy and Harrington like she belongs there.

Chrissy, for her part, seems to like the girl as well.

Eddie doesn’t get it, can’t comprehend what the hell’s happening, and it makes something squirmy and viscous sink into his stomach every time Buckley inserts herself between the pair, every time they smile at her.

But, they still stop to talk to him in between classes, so Eddie tries to drop it.

“It just doesn’t make sense!” Eddie cries, phone clutched to his ear, not even letting Gareth get a word out before he’s continuing the conversation Jeff had rudely interrupted by showing up to lunch. “What the hell is Harrington’s deal?”

“Dude, you’re like, obsessed,” Gareth replies, clearly talking around a mouthful of whatever after-school snack he’d chosen this time.

“Is he trying to date every girl in school at the same time?” he whines, yanking on his hair hard enough that his scalp tingles.

“You’re just jealous,” he replies, and that same squirmy feeling makes Eddie wriggle his whole body, like there’s a chill in the air.

Is the heater on the fritz again?

“Of who?” Eddie screeches before quieting down, peeking into the living room to make sure Uncle Wayne hasn’t stirred. He hasn’t, but Eddie still keeps his voice lowered as he continues hissing into the receiver. “Of Harrington? Don’t be absurd.”

Gareth laughs, “I don’t know, man, but this whole thing is just getting weird.”

“I know, right? What are they up to?” Eddie asks, ignoring Gareth’s muttered “not what I meant,” like he hadn’t said anything at all.

He never figures it out because Buckley never comes around—not to band practice, or Hellfire, or any of the other times Chrissy and Eddie (and Harrington) are in the same place. Eddie should be relieved. He’s not.

Everything is spiraling out of his control.

But, the letters keep coming, and Eddie keeps devouring them

  Eddie —

  I really liked your tabletop speech this week, even though you made fun of the jocks. Some of them definitely deserve it. Do you hate all of them, or just the bullies?

  You laughed, but it wasn’t your real laugh like when Mr. Danver accidentally said ‘orgasm’ instead of ‘organism’. I love your laugh, I thought about it all day. Kind of like when your favorite song gets stuck in your head.

  I know I’ve said it before, but I do really like you. But, if you knew me, I don’t think you’d like me. It’s okay, though. I’m stupid like that—always putting my whole heart into people who don’t feel the same.

  I’m sorry, this is probably not the letter you hoped to get. I’ll be better next time, promise.

  Yours,

  Your Secret Admirer

  P.S. Put your response in the World Atlas, the long one that they have to put sideways on the bookshelf (because no matter where you are, I’ll always think of you).

They all make something flutter within him like his lungs are growing wings and flapping themselves out of his body entirely. Even as it leaves him breathless and aching, he wants more of it, longs for it.

It’s just—she sounds so sad, lately, like she’s losing hope in this at all.

All Eddie wants to do is reassure her. So, he keeps writing back, pulling his heart off his sleeve and flinging it down on the page for Chrissy to read, hoping he’ll somehow see those same feelings reflected in her eyes.

He never does.

So, he pokes; he wheedles; he pines for a girl on a page that never quite stands before him. And he pours it all onto the page.

  Secret Admirer,

  I don’t think it’s all jocks—you’re too nice for that. But even you have to admit that a lot of the jocks are only doing it to be at the top of the food chain. Guys like Carver and Harrington Hagaon? They don’t even care about sports, they just want peons to fawn over them. But, there’s people like you, too, so maybe more of them are better than I expect.

  I can’t imagine knowing who you are and not liking you. You’re the nicest girl I know. You don’t have to tell me who you are, but if you do? I promise, it’ll all be okay.

  Yours, always,

  Eddie

  P.S. You don’t have to “be better,” baby. I just want you to be you. That will always be enough for a guy like me.

It’s not enough—something is breaking open in him that words on the page can’t quite mend.

“I’m going to ask her out,” Eddie says once Harrington and Chrissy have left the latest Hellfire session, still inexplicably coming despite never playing.

Jeff chokes on his sip of soda, coughing harshly enough that some of it comes out of his mouth and splatters onto the table.

“Gross, dude,” Doug says, but still pats his back like he’s burping a baby.

“Are you serious?” Gareth asks, tone disbelieving.

Eddie makes crazy eyes at him, trying to psychically beam all his thoughts into Gareth’s head like, yes I’m serious, and, you know about the notes, why are you looking at me like that, and, what the hell else am I supposed to do to crack this mystery wide open?

“That is such a bad idea,” Jeff cuts in once he’s got his coughing under wraps.

Eddie whips towards him, scowling at his best friend as he replies, “you’re just jealous.”

Jeff sighs, heaves himself out of his chair, says a quick, “whatever, dude,” and walks out of the room without a backward glance.

“Aren’t you his ride?” Doug asks.

Eddie flaps his hand in dismissal and replies, “forget about him,” despite his gut sinking down into his boots at Jeff’s words.

“Well, how are you going to do it?” Gareth asks, the only one of his friends to seem even remotely excited.

Eddie keeps flapping his hand and replies, “never you mind.”

That even gets Gareth to scoff, knowing Eddie well enough to know that means he’s got nothing.

But there’s a thought niggling away at his brain: why not finish this thing the same way it had begun?

On his way out the door, he drops his latest letter to Chrissy into the trash bin and doesn’t look back. He’s got a new letter to write.

*** 

“You know this is juvenile, right?” Jeff asks.

Chrissy pulls the world atlas off the shelf with a roll of her eyes.

Her and Steve had fought about him picking up the letters alone, and Chrissy had won the way she always does when it comes to matters of his safety. He’s sulking in the parking lot now, waiting for her to retrieve it for him.

But, there’s no letter behind the cover. She flips through the whole book, then shakes it, pages flapping wildly, to see if anything falls out. Nothing does. No note, at least not yet.

Steve will be disappointed.

“They’re boys, of course it’s juvenile,” Chrissy says, turning away from the shelf to make pointed eye contact.

If boys are stupid, Jeff is the stupidest of them all. She thinks she can see a tinge of red to his dark cheeks that makes her smile. Chrissy turns away to pick up her book bag where she’d left it on the closet table.

“There’s no letter?” Jeff asks, sounding surprised.

Chrissy sighs, responding, “not yet. I’ll have to check back tomorrow.”

Steve will be crushed. He’s been weird about the letters since he’d begun writing the first drafts alone. Even with the minor polishing Chrissy puts on them after, they’re Steve’s words and feelings, no matter what Eddie thinks. And it shows in the way he takes them home and pours over them for days before slinking back to her with the original letter and his response, cheeks rosy as she fixes his spelling errors.

“Eddie’s planning on asking you out, you know,” Jeff says.

There’s a clatter behind one of the shelves, but Chrissy barely notices. “He said that?” she asks, turning sharply toward him, hand still clutching her book bag. 

Jeff nods, lips pursed. God, what are they going to do? This whole thing has spiraled so far out of either of their control. Chrissy had known when she offered that there was a chance Eddie would catch on—that he’d see her leaving a note, or catch her picking one up.

Better her than Steve, she’d thought then. No matter the awkward situation she’s found herself in, she still thinks that, even more so now. Better her than Steve. Steve, who’s proven himself kinder than she ever imagined, who would be run out of town, her ex-boyfriend at the head of the mob.

Chrissy can hear someone shuffling out of sight, feet shuffling on carpet far too close for comfort, so she steps closer to Jeff and lowers her voice. 

“Do you know when?” Chrissy asks, anxiety leaching into her. She needs to talk to Steve. Flirting with Eddie is one thing, but going on a date with him? Going out with him? That’s a whole other monster.

And then, of course, there’s Jeff.

“No, he hasn’t told me anything,” he replies, something small and hurt in his voice.

Chrissy’s never had a best friend, but Steve’s given her a little taste of it, and she’d be hurt if he didn’t tell her something like this.

“He’s probably embarrassed,” Chrissy says, aching to reach out and touch, but they’re in public, and Jason could be lurking behind any corner; the last thing she wants is to put a target on another person she cares about’s back. “You’re still his best friend.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he sighs, but when she bumps their shoulders together gently, his lips quirk up.

He smiles over at her, bumping their shoulders together himself as he asks, “drive me home?” as if it isn’t a foregone conclusion. “And stay for dinner?”

That gives her pause. She can feel her cheeks flushing. Despite taking the next step in their relationship, Jeff’s never invited her in, not where his parents and brother are. They haven’t even really discussed what they are, not with this whole secret admirer thing hanging over their heads like the Sword of Damocles.

But she wants to. She wants to hold his hand in the halls, go to his house for study dates and dinner, kiss him somewhere where they don’t have to be furtive.

It’s all stolen moments with Jeff, kisses and conversations made in haste when all she wants to do is linger. So, she says, “yes, please,” and bounces out into the parking lot.

Steve isn’t there, and neither is his car.

“Maybe he went home?” Jeff asks, but he looks just as unsure as she feels.

“We’ll call him when we get to your house,” she asserts. She’s relieved when all he does is nod and follow her to her car. 

She’s got a best friend to find.

*** 

Robin knows something’s gone wrong as soon as she sees that dangerous gleam in Carver’s eyes. She knows whatever it is, it’s about to go catastrophically wrong when she follows his line of sight to where Eddie stands chatting away with one of his friends.

Still, she stands frozen, watching in breathless horror as Eddie waves goodbye to his friend, that familiar happy grin on his face as he slides into the driver’s seat of his van. Heavy music blares from the rolled-down window as his van sputters to noisy life.

When she turns back to get her eyes on Carver, he’s gone. She spots him only as Eddie peels out of the parking lot, Carver’s douchey car hot on his heels.

Robin turns and runs back into the school. She’d spotted another douchey car still loitering in the parking lot; Steve’s in here somewhere.

She checks the library first, knows from previous confessions that it’s where he and Chrissy work on most of the secret admirer notes. It’s deserted aside from a scattering of freshmen in one corner, and Nancy Wheeler arguing with the librarian about a text the library doesn’t seem to have.

She finds herself in the gym next, unsure if any sports are currently in season, but nice guy or not, Steve’s got jock sensibilities. He likes the gym. There’s a singular kid shooting baskets, but based on the rack of balls off to the side, there might have been more.

She goes to the boy’s locker room without thinking, pushing the swinging door open with sweaty palms and shaking arms.

Inside, she finds boys, all blessedly dressed.

“Ohhh!” they call juvenilely as she stands there, shocked as four pairs of eyes lock on her.

“Girl in the locker room!” someone calls; she’s pretty sure that’s Tommy Hagan’s smug voice, but she barely notices, too caught up in trying to find her boy in the mess of bodies.

“Steve,” Robin strangles out.

Her skin feels tacky with panic sweat, and in the past five minutes of searching, she’s run her fingers through her own hair enough times to leave it sticking on end. She’s sure she looks more like a troll doll than an enticing member of the opposite sex.

“He already left,” a guy she doesn’t recognize responds, eying her up and down. “But I’d be more than happy to help you out.”

As if his meaning wasn’t already clear, he bites his lip and swipes his lip like he’s wiping up drool as all the other boys start “ooooh”ing in unison again. Is that something they’re taught in elementary, or something?

She doesn’t wait for them to continue, just turns and runs out of the locker room, panic nipping at her heels.

She runs back out to the parking lot, out of places to check and desperate to not miss Steve leaving.

That’s where she finds him, leaning casually against his car like Eddie’s life isn’t at stake.

She runs so fast, limbs uncoordinated and breaths coming rapid, that she doesn’t stop in time and hit’s Steve straight in the chest. 

She bounces off, almost falling to the pavement until he grabs her shoulders and steadies her. Steve’s hands feel big on her shoulders, the pressure of his palms pushing her soul back into her body as she takes big, deep gulps.

“What’s wrong, Bobby?” he asks, already looking at her like she’s a wet puppy he’s ready to scoop into his arms and dry off with the shirt on his own back.

There’s too many witnesses, and too many damning words to be said, so all she whispers is, “you need to go, Steve.”

He wrinkles his nose, but something of the gravity of her words must sink in because he leans in without hesitation and meets her pitch as he asks, “where?”

Robin steps even closer, damn-near standing on Steve’s toes as she begins her stilted explanation.

“Jason Carver followed Eddie’s van in his car,” Robin starts, words blurring into each other in her haste to get them out. “I don’t know what he’s planning, but—“

She doesn’t get to finish; Steve bolts to the driver's side door and flings himself into his car without sparing her a second thought.  She can’t blame him.

Robin only hopes he makes it in time.

[vervainandspritz]

DANCE WITH ME, SHELBY

Word count: 2,4k

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, Tommy is a silly goose, blood, injury

INTERACT WITH THE STORY PLEASE

***

How could it get that bad? That one sentence filled his head to the brim, causing a hellish headache. Staring at the ceiling in the small room in the back of the building, just a wall separating the frustrated man from the chaos in the Garrison. Blue eyes, usually sharp and focused, now glancing all around, internally looking for that one moment where he pushed her too far.

A race of thoughts caused an annoying gnawing at his insides, going back to all the situations he could have used to… speak up, but he didn't. His foolish ego wouldn't let him live that down.

The music was so loud he could hardly analyse, but he successfully brought in the sight of Y/N dancing in a Peaky boys’ arms.

If only he didn't ruin it back then, Thomas groaned. Running a hand through his hair, he set the cap on a table before returning to the main room.

Straightening his back and looking around, Tommy noticed his brothers dancing between all the drunk people, cheering happily and laughing obnoxiously, just like they always did when there was a reason to celebrate.

The Garrison wasn’t normally a place for song and dance, but after the victory at the races, Thomas made an exception for his men.

Winning races was a big thing in Birmingham, no matter whether the races were fixed or not. Nobody would dare to ask anyway.

Among other people sitting by the bar, he spotted her. The woman so unforgettable, that there wouldn't be a day when he wouldn't think of her.

The sound of the door slamming shut went unnoticed by the loud crowd as he made his way to the bar. Several chairs away from Y/n Thomas took his seat, letting out a quiet sigh as he grabbed the bottle of whiskey that Harry instinctively set on the counter in front of him. Pouring a generous amount he nodded towards Y/n, and the bartender immediately got the right idea, pouring her a glass as well.

Tommy planned on watching her reaction closely, but to his surprise she knocked it back without missing a beat, making him raise his eyebrows.

Harry nodded proudly seeing the same scene unfold, before turning around and serving other people.

Usually at least a couple of guests would line up to him by then, but Thomas’ horrendous mood was hanging in the air like a thundercloud, warning off anyone who would think of coming around. Taking advantage of the relative solitude he let his mind spiral down the familiar way.. again.

~~

“What happened!” Polly gasped, slamming the door shut behind her, seeing Thomas and Y/n make their way through the small living room. Blood dripped from the boy's nose, bloodying the already dirty carpet.

“I'll explain, I promise!” Y/N yelled from the bathroom before another slam of the door could be heard. Sitting him on the stool, Y/n tried to breathe steadily just to not start sobbing again. Her knees burned like hell, but she couldn't live down the way Tommy's face looked.

“I'm sorry” she said, shaking her head while reaching for a towel, and dipping it into the small amount of alcohol she had. Her hands were shaking, and so was her voice.

“Y/n” he said, but when she didn't react, his hand grasped her smaller one, holding it for a moment until she looked into his eyes. “It's okay, nothing big happened.” He tried to convince, smiling in a silly way despite his bloodied nose and a black eye. “C’mere” Tommy added after she shook her head, pulling her in for a tight hug. “It's okay, I'm fine, I promise. I didn't want them to hurt you, and I succeeded, like a man, yeah?” His voice soothed her slowly, just like his hand rubbing up and down her back. After a long minute she pulled back, nodding lightly as she held his head, cleaning up the cuts.

Tommy didn't say a word for another few minutes, just watching her face as she worked her magic until her cheeks turned bright pink. Clearing his throat, he finally spoke up.

“I'll be ugly for a while now.” Was enough to make her chuckle, and like always, Tommy's laugh followed right after.

“Thank you,” she said. “For saving me and… and being so fearless.” Y/n added shyly, not used to them saying all these nice things to each other.

Thomas shook his head with a breathless chuckle, before looking down.

“I wasn't fearless,” he confessed, making her raise her eyebrows in surprise. “After all, have you seen them? And me? I'm… short.” He chuckled and she immediately followed. “But I couldn't let them hurt you, no matter what.”

“You're not short! You're taller than me!” she argued with her cheeks all red.

“You're a girl, Y/N.” He pointed out, grabbing her hips as she started giggling some more, the gauze on his face shaking along with her arm. A comfortable silence fell between them for a couple moments, before he got up, standing right in front of her.

Taking a deep breath, Thomas ran a hand through his hair.

“Will you kiss me for bravery or am I too ugly for it now?” he asked, trying to appear even more confident with a smile still plastered onto his face, ready for a rejection… that never happened. Y/n nodded at him with a smile as she reached for his cheeks, standing on her tiptoes and pressing her lips against his in a sweet kiss.

“Take me on a date. To the cinema. Tomorrow.” She decided as soon as they parted, looking at him with big, round eyes and Tommy couldn't help but nod, with his face completely red.

“Okay”

~~

After another two glasses sent her way, Thomas chuckled under his breath, eyeing the glass in his hand, when suddenly another hand pulled it out of his grasp. As fast as it disappeared, a feminine hand slammed an empty glass on the counter.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Shelby?” Y/N asked, coming into his view as she leaned on the counter, eyeing him with a serious expression.

“You were drunk before I stepped foot into the Garrison, eh?” he replied, turning around and facing her fully.

“Hardly” she said, tilting her head to the side as she noticed his hardened expression. “What's got you so down, boss? I thought we're celebrating tonight.” Y/N asked half seriously, gesturing to Harry for another bottle.

“Business as always” he responded, lighting a cigarette and offering her one. She only shook her head, leaning forward and pulling the cigarette out of his lips instead. Tommy kept looking at her, not caring enough to light another one. Just drinking in the sight of her eyeing him like that.

Only after a moment he looked away, glancing into the crowd with a barely audible sigh. Y/n knew him long enough to be able to tell how troubled he was feeling at the moment.

“Come on, Shelby.” She said, swiftly slipping off the counter and grabbing his hand. “You're gonna dance with me” Tommy immediately started shaking his head but didn't let go of her hand even for a moment.

“I don't dance, Love.” He replied in a hoarse voice, but Y/n wouldn't take a “no” for an answer when it came to dancing. Tommy somewhat reluctantly stood and let Y/N lead him to the dancefloor. The music was an energetic tempo leaving little to no space on the dancefloor between dancing, drunk people. Y/n led him through the crowd right into the middle of chaos, to ensure he wouldn't leave at any given moment.

By the time they weaved through the crowd, the celebratory song ended and the musicians played a sweeter slow song.

Hearing it, Tommy looked at her with eyebrows raised, making her giggle.

“Too late to change your mind now. Embrace me, Shelby.” She said sternly, in a joking manner.

Thomas didn't need much more convincing, the thought of getting to hold her was enough of an incentive. Stepping forward, Tommy pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her hip, keeping some distance between them for her comfort. She, however, closed the distance between them. Their bodies pressed together, moving in the rhythm. It came much more naturally than either of them would expect. As the music got more sensual, their senses became sharper. His big calloused hands kept her in a firm hold, leading her through the dance just right. Tommy felt suddenly a little more drunk than ever, taking in consideration that he had just two glasses of whiskey. The scent of her skin, her hair, the sweet flowery notes clinging to her skin made him want to get even closer. Closer than physically possible. Forget the alcohol, it was her he was truly intoxicated by.

Y/n could feel how heavy his breathing got, as he slowly let go of her hand, both hands wrapping around her hips and keeping her close. She leaned forward, both hands on Tommy's chest which made her feel even more… dizzy. His heart was beating even harder than hers. That was until he stepped forward again, and her face almost settled in his neck. The best part of the song came on, and the tension between them was palpable. Their breaths grew shallow and Thomas felt like he might explode if she didn't look him in the eyes just then.

Pulling back, he leaned down causing his nose to brush against hers, and as soon as Tommy's warm breath touched her lips, the song suddenly ended.

So did the moment, because Y/N immediately sobered, taking a step back and letting go of his touch.

Thomas could see the slightly panicked look in her eyes.

“Y/N” he started out, shaking his head lightly but she took another step back.

“Thanks for the dance, Shelby.” She replied, before turning around and pushing her way through the crowd towards the exit.

“Bloody hell” He hissed under his breath, trying to follow her as quickly as possible. It took him a longer moment, but Thomas finally burst through the door, immediately looking around and finding Y/N walking towards Small Heath.

“Y/N!” He yelled, going after her. For some reason it felt like an important moment which Tommy couldn't afford to fuck up. “Y/N, wait!”

Y/N kept walking, not paying attention to his shouting. Had he taken it too far with their almost kiss? She had kept drawing nearer to him throughout the dance, because the pull was impossibly strong, yet she couldn't bring herself to move past… that.

“Y/N!” He yelled, being mere metres away before finally a strong hand grasped her shoulder, making her turn around. He prepared a few words to say, but all of them disappeared from his head as soon as he saw her teary eyes.

“Why? Why didn't you come back then? I waited for you, Tommy, and you didn't show up.” She immediately said in a vulnerable voice, unable to keep it in any longer. “I was preparing for three hours to look pretty for you!” She was taking short breaks to sniffle quietly, and he tried to find words, but as always in such situations, it was difficult. Y/N had held onto the heartbreak of being stood up by him for years. The only man she could never hold at arm's length, making her feel so foolish. As he tried to stutter out an explanation, “and… and I..” Y/n started out, but got suddenly cut off by his voice.

“He took my fucking money!” He hissed out, pacing back and forth. Sighing deeply, he ran a hand through his hair while Y/N got… confused.

“What? Who?” She asked, her eyebrows furrowed. Only then did he stop right in front of her.

“Finn” He replied, looking into her eyes with his own eyes wide. “Back then… fuck, I was saving for that moment, alright? Times were fucking tough and… and I wanted to go!” He said loudly, rubbing the side of his jaw with frustration. “But this little bastard didn't leave me a single fucking penny! Took all the money and I couldn't show up in my old, worn down clothes and then… not take you anywhere! Not YOU, Y/N! Fuck!” He gave up on trying to talk calmly, the old frustration and annoyance coming back to the surface. “..and then, then you left Birmingham for a while, and i had no fucking clue how to come back from what happened. What to do or say. I was… I was ashamed.”

Y/N remained silent for what felt like eternity which was probably less than a minute. Thomas sighed deeply, bracing for harsh words as he came up, grabbing her chin and tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

“I'm sorry, Love.” He added, when suddenly… she burst out giggling, making him cock an eyebrow in surprise. Only then did she manage to reply between the sniffles and giggles.

“You're an incredibly silly man for a gang leader, Thomas.” She started out, and then.. he knew it would be okay. “If you came wearing a bloody potato sack and wanted to sit under a tree and talk, I would be the happiest girl in the fucking world!” She exclaimed loudly, pushing him lightly. “I never cared about what you wore or where we went, bloody hell, I was following you everywhere! Because I wanted to be around YOU, and that's all that mattered, Tommy.” Her hand covered his much bigger one, eyes becoming more shiny as she spotted the little grin on his face.

“I panicked. I can't explain how sorry I am, Love.” He added, his hand caressing her cheek while his softened gaze remained on her eyes. “I thought about you every single day. Not a thing ever changed for me.” He confessed with a heavy heart.

Y/n became quiet for a moment again before her fingers grazed his reddened, cold cheek.

“You look like you've seen a ghost.” She eventually said, making him chuckle as she pushed his hair away from his eyes.

Thomas took a final step forward, his face mere inches away from her own.

“Well… am I too ugly for a kiss then?”

“Shut up, Shelby.” She sneered, pulling him into a deep but sweet kiss. One she waited for so long, too long.

[seitmai]

“Mrs. Rogers, you and Steve had to cancel the traditional honeymoon, has it put a strain on your marriage, and will you be taking a honeymoon any time soon?” “Oh, Ben, are you saying this isn’t a honeymoon? I thought all newlyweds took a five-month long zig-zagging trek all across America to kick off their marriage!”

Perfect answer 👌🏻

You nod, trying to ignore the small flutter in your stomach at the mention of Steve's name. It's ridiculous, you tell yourself. You're married to the man, for goodness sake. And you both know it’s a marriage for the stability of this campaign and the future presidency.

Don't ignore the flutter!! Even if you are already married!

As if sensing your presence, Steve looks up, his eyes meeting yours across the room. His face softens slightly, and he excuses himself from the conversation, making his way over to you.

🥰🥰🥰

"You've got this, Steve," you say softly, placing a hand on his arm. The gesture feels both natural and strange - you're still navigating the boundaries of your unique relationship. "Just remember why you're doing this. Speak from the heart, like you always do."Steve's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see a flash of vulnerability there. "Thank you," he says, his voice low.

She just saw right through him and knew exactly what he needed to hear 😌

"We could also leverage social media more effectively," you continue, warming to your topic. "Not just posting sound bites, but creating engaging content that breaks down complex issues in accessible ways. Maybe even collaborate with some respected influencers who align with our values." Steve leans back in his chair, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I like it. What else?”

I just know he look at her so proud 🤭

“What a surprise! The anit-social, bionic man with a staring problem doesn’t like the idea of pal-ing around with the new Mrs. Rogers! Man, I know you only recently started to like me, but can you get on board with her.” “Who says I like you?” he counters. “Ha ha,” Sam retorts dryly. “You should be so lucky that next time we put you up for president so we could canvas the country for a girl who could put up with you and all your bullshit.”

Hahaha Bucky and Sam are not letting a single chance pass to spat with each other 😂

“You don’t even know, do you?” Sam presses him, his tone incredulous. You hold your breath, straining to hear Steve's response. There's a long pause before he speaks. "It's not that simple, Sam," Steve says, his voice low and weary. "This whole situation... it's complicated." "Complicated how?" Sam presses. "She's smart, she's kind, she's dedicated to the cause. And let's be real, she's not hard on the eyes either. What's holding you back?"

Sam is just the biggest hype man and not only has Steve's back, but hers too

"No," Steve says quickly. "Not fake. Just... I don't know. Forced. This whole situation - it's not the same as the tour for war bonds back in ‘43, but it’s still a production. I never imagined being in a situation like this again." "None of us imagined this, Steve," Bucky chimes in, his tone softer than before.

Bucky is very right 🤷🏻‍♀️

"And she's here now, too,” Sam circles back to you, “and she's trying. You can't keep pushing her away." "I know," Steve says, his voice tinged with frustration. "I see it. She's incredible out there. The way she connects with people, the way she articulates our message, she’s all in and she's a natural." "So what's the problem?" Sam presses. "If I let her in and this doesn't work out..." "You mean the campaign?" Sam asks. "No," Steve says.

Steve is overthinking it, but i feel like that just shows how much he cares 🥺

Another silence falls between you, but it feels almost companionable, and the two of you enjoy your breakfast. Usually people try to fill any potentially silent moment around you these days, and so the reprieve itself is nice, but it doesn’t last long.

If you can enjoy some peace and quiet together that can be more meaningful that always having to have something going on ☝🏻

Red, White & True: Las Vegas & Cleveland (2/?)

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes Word Count: 4k Summary: Three months has raced by since you agreed to join the campaign team of Rogers for America as Steve runs for President of the United States of America. You've settled in and are starting to hit your stride campaigning, but what the state of affairs for your marriage?

Content/Warnings: marriage of political convenience, slow burn

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Previous Chapter | Series

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[SEPTEMBER 2 - Las Vegas, Nevada]

“Mrs. Rogers!” “Mrs. Rogers!”

You exchange a brief look with your assistant Sophia. She nods to wordlessly confirm that you have a few moments and should engage with the press. Taking a deep breath, you turn and approach the bank of reporters waiting and eager to regale you with questions.

There are a few familiar faces who’ve been consistently covering the Rogers for America campaign, some of them even assigned specifically to report on you - mostly friends, but some that could be categorized in the foe column.

“Mrs. Rogers, you and your husband are in the same city for the first time in eighteen days.” This is one of the faces you aren’t familiar with in the gaggle of press. “Are you looking forward to being reunited as you support him in the first presidential debate tonight?”

Eighteen days… You hadn’t realized it had been that long, but you’ve become a trained professional when appearing in public now, and you don’t let your face betray any shock or unease.

“Yes, we’re eager to spend time together.” Consummate professional that you’ve become, you do play into showing a little bit of surprise. “Has it been eighteen days? Who’s been tracking this? Clearly we need you on our campaign team!”

It garners some good-natured laughs from the group.

“Mrs. Rogers, you and Steve had to cancel the traditional honeymoon, has it put a strain on your marriage, and will you be taking a honeymoon any time soon?”

“Oh, Ben, are you saying this isn’t a honeymoon? I thought all newlyweds took a five-month long zig-zagging trek all across America to kick off their marriage!”

A few more laughs.

“Steve is serious about this campaign, and we both knew the sacrifices we would be making along the way. Our time together is very limited, but I can tell you, without question, that Steve will be as dedicated to his roles and responsibilities as President as you have seen him be to this campaign. One thing we speak about frequently when we do have time together are the incredible people we’re meeting as we travel from state to state and get to talk with you, see what your life looks like in each new place.” This is true. It’s become one of the unspoken safe topics you can bring up at the drop of a hat with each other. “We’re getting the opportunity to experience first-hand that although we’re all so different, there’s so much that unites us as Americans, shoulder to shoulder, regardless of the part of the country we live in.”

“Thank you, everyone,” Sophia steps up and cuts in. “I’m sure we’ll see you all tonight at the debate. A reminder that the Rogers for America campaign will hold a brief press conference ten minutes after the debate concludes. For now, you have to let me get Mrs. Rogers in the car and on the way to the university or we’re not going to beat traffic - and neither will any of you.”

Then Sophia ushers you away, and you slip into the vehicle waiting for you both.

“Good answers,” she says, as the driver pulls away. “You’re really becoming comfortable fielding their questions and directing their energy where we want to see it go.”

You smile at Sophia's praise. She’s genuine but very no-nonsense, so she doesn’t throw out compliments to placate you or anyone else. It’s one of the reasons you promoted her to your assistant. "Thanks. I do feel like I'm starting to get the hang of it. Though I have to admit, I was a bit thrown by that '18 days' comment."

Sophia nods sympathetically. "I know. It's been a whirlwind, but you're doing great. The public loves you, and your approval ratings are holding steady."

You lean back in your seat, letting out a small sigh. "Approval ratings. Sometimes I still can't believe this is my life now."

As the car weaves through traffic, your mind drifts back to the past few months. The whirlwind wedding, the campaign launch, the endless string of rallies, interviews, and public appearances. You've barely had a moment to catch your breath, let alone get to know your husband.

Steve. Your husband.

In name and public persona only, it seems. The campaign trails that are being charted and continually adjusted for you, Steve, the VP nominee, and his wife, have all four of you covering as much ground as possible, and there’s rarely any overlap, but it does seem like you’re rarely with the Mr. to your Mrs. It makes things simultaneously more and less complicated. More complicated because the lack of time together means it’s more awkward that you’re still basically acquaintances but have to look the part of happy newlyweds. Less complicated because at least you’re not messing with any deep or complex feelings.

"Mrs. Rogers?" Sophia's voice pulls you from your thoughts. "We're almost there. Are you ready?"

You straighten up, smoothing down the front of your outfit. "As ready as I'm going to be. What's on the agenda before the debate?"

Sophia consults her tablet. "You have a meet and greet with the VP and a group of the local campaign volunteers. Steve should be arriving about forty-five minutes before the debate starts. Twenty minutes before the debate, you all have a brief prep session with the communications team - updates on the developments over the day and reviewing the message for tonight."

You nod, trying to ignore the small flutter in your stomach at the mention of Steve's name. It's ridiculous, you tell yourself. You're married to the man, for goodness sake. And you both know it’s a marriage for the stability of this campaign and the future presidency.

The car pulls up to the Thomas & Mack Center at the University of Nevada, and you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the chaos that awaits. As you step out, you're immediately greeted by flashing cameras and shouts from the crowd. You smile and wave, but don't stop to answer any questions as you make your way inside, following someone from the debate logistics team to get to the staging and holding area.

Backstage is a flurry of activity. Campaign staffers rush back and forth, last-minute preparations are being made, and there's an electric tension in the air. Your eyes scan the room, looking for one person in particular.

And then you see him. Steve is standing off to the side, deep in conversation with one of the communications strategists. Even after all these months, the sight of him still takes your breath away. He's tall, broad-shouldered, and undeniably handsome in his perfectly tailored navy suit. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he listens intently to the woman in front of him.

As if sensing your presence, Steve looks up, his eyes meeting yours across the room. His face softens slightly, and he excuses himself from the conversation, making his way over to you.

"Hey," he says softly as he approaches, leaning in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. It's for show, you know, it’s important that even your own campaign staff thinks this marriage is more than surface level, and you stifle the small thrill that runs through you at the gesture. It’s only a gesture.

"Hi," you reply, managing to offer up an encouraging smile. "How are you feeling? Ready for tonight?"

Steve nods, his expression determined. "As ready as I'll ever be. We still have a long weeks ahead, but I think we're in a good position - and that’s what they keep saying across the team at this point."

You nod, studying his face. Despite his confident words, you can see the tension in his jaw, the slight crease between his brows. You've learned to read these subtle signs over the past few months, even with your limited time together.

"You've got this, Steve," you say softly, placing a hand on his arm. The gesture feels both natural and strange - you're still navigating the boundaries of your unique relationship. "Just remember why you're doing this. Speak from the heart, like you always do."

Steve's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see a flash of vulnerability there. "Thank you," he says, his voice low. "I -”

But before he can say the rest of what he was going to, Sophia approaches, tablet in hand. "Mrs. Rogers, we need to go to the reception with the volunteers from the local campaign team."

[SEPTEMBER 7 - Cleveland, Ohio]

The campaign strategy meeting is in full swing, the air thick with tension and the buzz of caffeine-fueled ideas. You're seated at a long table in a nondescript hotel conference room, surrounded by a sea of laptops, notepads, and half-empty coffee cups. The walls are covered with maps, poll numbers, and hastily scribbled strategies.

Steve sits at the head of the table, his brow furrowed in concentration as he listens to the latest polling data. You're positioned a few seats away, close enough to appear united, but not his most trusted. Sam, Bucky, the VP nominee Young and his assistant, the campaign press secretary, the communications director, all sit closer to or directly across from Steve, at the heart of the table. But you are closer than the finance director, legal advisor, speech writers, and the policy directors.

You're seated next Sam on your left with Sophia on your right, taking notes and pulling up memos on her laptop.

Steve is leaning forward, his brow furrowed in concentration as he listens to the campaign manager, Jake Thompson, deliver his latest assessment.

Jake, a seasoned political operative with salt-and-pepper hair and a no-nonsense attitude, stands at the head of the table, remote control in hand as he flips through a report on polling and focus groups that have been conducted over the past two weeks with Gen Z in urban, suburban, and rural pockets of the country.

"As you can see," Jake says, his voice carrying a mix of concern and determination, "this is where we’re making progress. Enough of them are tired of the rhetoric that’s been recycled all their lives, problems that never seem to be resolved because they’re too useful as campaign issues. That’s why an independent candidate is beginning to look a lot more appealing.”

Jake clicks to the next slide, which shows a breakdown of key issues that resonated most with young voters. "Climate change, affordable education, and social justice are their top priorities. They appreciate your strong stance on these issues, Steve, but they're still skeptical about whether you can actually deliver real change."

Steve nods, his expression thoughtful. "So how do we bridge that gap? How do we convince them that we're not just another set of empty promises?"

You lean forward slightly, your mind racing with ideas. This is an area where you feel you can contribute significantly, given your background in non-profit work and your ability to connect with younger generations.

"If I may," you begin, and all eyes turn to you. You feel a flutter of nervousness but push through it. "I think we need to focus on concrete, actionable plans. Not just broad strokes, but specific steps we'll take in the first 100 days. I think it would speak to Millennials as well.”

Jake nods appreciatively at your suggestion. "Mrs. Rogers, did you hack into my laptop sometime in the last 24 hours?�� He’s not smiling - he never outright smiles - but he has a proud glint in his eyes as he looks at you. “What you’re suggesting is exactly in line with what I wanted to bring to the table today. We need to show them we're not just talking the talk, we’re ready to his the ground running when they put us in the White House."

Steve nods, his eyes meeting yours with interest. "Go on," he encourages.

You take a deep breath, feeling more confident. "We should consider hosting a series of town halls specifically targeting young voters. Not just to talk at them, but to listen. Let them voice their concerns directly and then demonstrate how our policies address those issues. We could even live-stream these events, make them interactive."

Jake looks intrigued. "That should work. It plays into our strengths - Steve's authenticity and your ability to connect with younger demographics."

"We could also leverage social media more effectively," you continue, warming to your topic. "Not just posting sound bites, but creating engaging content that breaks down complex issues in accessible ways. Maybe even collaborate with some respected influencers who align with our values."

Steve leans back in his chair, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I like it. What else?”

Elsa, communications director jumps in, "These are excellent strategies we can absolutely put into play, but we're still facing challenges with this demographic. Many of them feel disconnected from the political process entirely. They see you, Steve, as part of an older generation that doesn't understand their issues."

You watch Steve's reaction carefully. His jaw tightens slightly, but he nods, absorbing the information.

"What do you suggest?" Steve asks, his voice calm but tinged with frustration.

Elsa hesitates for a moment before responding. "We need to make you more relatable to younger voters. Show them that despite your... unique background, you understand and care about the issues that matter to them."

"And how do we do that?" Steve presses.

Jake glances your way before answering. "We think Mrs. Rogers could play a key role here."

You straighten in your seat, suddenly very alert. "Me?" you ask, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice.

“Yes,” he confirms. “We have a problem and an opportunity that’s developing. That 18 days comment last week heated things up again with the public perception and scrutiny of your marriage. You handled it exactly as you should have, Mrs. Rogers,” he assures you, “that’s not our concern. But now that someone has brought up numbers for days apart, it’s becoming part of the narrative, and we already had to tame concerns over your sudden nuptials, we don’t want the state of your marriage to be the focus again.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, and you can see out of the corner of your eye that Steve isn’t thrilled about this either.

“But the opportunity here,” Elsa jumps back in, “is that we can put that to rest and capitalize on what we’re beginning to see as the Mrs. Rogers effect on the campaign trail. Her approval ratings were never bad, but they keep climbing. The public still wonders if Steve is a politician, if he’s ready to be the next President, but they already see a politician’s wife in you, Mrs. Rogers.”

You feel a mix of pride and unease at Elsa's words. On one hand, it's gratifying to know your efforts are making a positive impact. On the other, you can't help but feel like you're being used as a prop.

Even though that is what you are at the most elementary level.

"What exactly are you proposing?" Steve asks, his tone careful but with an edge to it.

Jake leans forward, his expression earnest. "We want to increase the number of joint appearances you two make. Show the public that you're a united front, a team. Town halls, rallies, even some more casual, candid moments. Show the public that you're a team, that you support each other. It'll help soften Steve's image and make him more relatable to younger voters."

You glance at Steve, trying to gauge his reaction. His face is impassive, but there is a slight tension in his jaw.

You can see Steve is uncomfortable with the idea, but he's considering it carefully. You decide to speak up.

"I appreciate the strategy, but I have some concerns," you say. "We don't want to come across as inauthentic or like we're using our relationship as a political tool. That could backfire, especially with younger voters who are already skeptical of politicians and doing things for clout."

Jake nods, "You're right to be cautious. We're not suggesting anything overly staged or fake. Just more opportunities for the public to see you two together, interacting naturally."

Steve finally speaks up. "I agree with my wife," he says, and you feel a small, unexpected thrill at hearing him refer to you that way, even though you know it's just part of this gig. "We need to be careful about how we approach this. I don't want to exploit our relationship. But let’s make it work."

Jake wraps up the meeting quickly at that point, instructing his staff to update each candidate’s logistics team over the updated schedule that will play to the ‘Rogers & Rogers Strategy,’ and putting the policy advisors and communications team to work on implementing your suggestions into the direction they were going to propose. As every minute of the campaign season is instrumental, nearly everyone clears out of the room at that point.

You’re at the elevator in the lobby when you realize you left your jacket in the hotel conference room. Sophia says they can have an aide bring it up to your room, but you insist you’d like to stretch your legs a little more before heading up to sleep. As you head back down the hall, you’re relieved to see the door is still open, and you pick up your step. But then you come to an abrupt halt when you hear voices and your name drifts out into the hallway in a conversation between Steve, Sam, and Bucky.

“I don’t like it.”

“What a surprise! The anit-social, bionic man with a staring problem doesn’t like the idea of pal-ing around with the new Mrs. Rogers! Man, I know you only recently started to like me, but can you get on board with her.”

“Who says I like you?” he counters.

“Ha ha,” Sam retorts dryly. “You should be so lucky that next time we put you up for president so we could canvas the country for a girl who could put up with you and all your bullshit.”

Steve chuckles - something you realize you’ve rarely heard him do.

“But it’s you I’m surprised by, Steve,” Sam continues. “Why are you still holding this girl at arms’ length?”

Steve heaves a heavy sigh, and you can just imagine him putting his hands on his hips.

“You don’t even know, do you?” Sam presses him, his tone incredulous.

You hold your breath, straining to hear Steve's response. There's a long pause before he speaks.

"It's not that simple, Sam," Steve says, his voice low and weary. "This whole situation... it's complicated."

"Complicated how?" Sam presses. "She's smart, she's kind, she's dedicated to the cause. And let's be real, she's not hard on the eyes either. What's holding you back?"

You feel your cheeks flush at Sam's words, a mix of embarrassment and curiosity coursing through you.

"It's not about her," Steve says firmly. "She's... she's great. Better than I could have hoped for, honestly. But this whole arrangement, it just feels..."

"Fake?" Bucky offers, his voice gruff.

"No," Steve says quickly. "Not fake. Just... I don't know. Forced. This whole situation - it's not the same as the tour for war bonds back in ‘43, but it’s still a production. I never imagined being in a situation like this again."

"None of us imagined this, Steve," Bucky chimes in, his tone softer than before.

Steve sighs again. “And I know it’s another thing I’ve chosen that neither of you signed up for, and I appreciate you being here by my side.”

"And she's here now, too,” Sam circles back to you, “and she's trying. You can't keep pushing her away."

"I'm not pushing her away," Steve protests, but it sounds weak even to your ears.

"Really?" Sam challenges. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're doing enough to conveniently keep your distance. She's your wife, Steve. On paper, sure, but she's also becoming a real partner in this campaign. You've seen how she handles herself out there."

You lean against the wall, your heart racing as you listen to the conversation. You know you shouldn't be eavesdropping, but you can't bring yourself to walk away, not when - even if you’re not involved - someone is finally talking about the state of your marriage.

"I know," Steve says, his voice tinged with frustration. "I see it. She's incredible out there. The way she connects with people, the way she articulates our message, she’s all in and she's a natural."

"So what's the problem?" Sam presses.

"If I let her in and this doesn't work out..."

"You mean the campaign?" Sam asks.

"No," Steve says.

And then - because of course it’s that exact moment - a door just a bit further down the opens, and you have to pretend you were not just standing in the hallway eavesdropping on anyone, and you abandon jacket retrieval and pretend you were on your way to the hotel bar to catch a quick nightcap with some of the staffers.

[SEPTEMBER 8 - Airspace over Ohio]

The next morning, it’s wheels up at 7am for the presidential candidate campaign plane, and you’re on it. You’re being sent with Steve to Wisconsin.

As the plane climbs to cruising altitude, you stifle a yawn and make your way to the "war room" - a section of the campaign plane that serves as a mobile strategy center and occasional dining area. The smell of coffee and pastries wafts through the air, a tempting lure after the early morning rush.

Sophia’s intern had already supplied you with your go-to morning drink, but you grab a plate and fill it with some fruit, cheese, bacon, and a surprisingly and delightfully warm croissant. The plane's engines hum steadily as you settle into one of the seats at the table. The early morning sunlight streams through the small windows, casting a warm glow over the polished wood table. You've barely slept, your mind still reeling from the conversation you overheard last night.

You pull out your tablet, intending to review the day's revised schedule, but your thoughts keep drifting back to Steve's words. The weight of them sits heavy in your chest, a mix of disappointment and something else you can't quite name.

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't notice someone approaching until they clear their throat. You look up, expecting to see Sophia or maybe one of the campaign staffers. Instead, you find yourself faced with Bucky Barnes.

"Morning," he says, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. "Mind if I join you?"

You blink, momentarily thrown off balance. In all the months of campaigning, you've barely exchanged more than a few pleasantries.

"Of course," you say, gesturing to the seat across from you.

Bucky nods and takes a seat, setting down his own plate of food. There's an awkward silence as he settles in, and you can't help but study him. His hair is short again - the style he’d adopted when he was pardoned not long after the Snap. He's dressed casually in jeans and a dark henley. Despite his relaxed appearance, there's an undeniable intensity about him, a coiled energy that seems barely contained.

"So," Bucky says, breaking the silence. "Wisconsin."

You nod, grateful for the opening. "Yes, big day ahead. Are you joining us for the rally?"

Bucky shakes his head. "I’ll be backstage, but no."

Another silence falls between you, but it feels almost companionable, and the two of you enjoy your breakfast. Usually people try to fill any potentially silent moment around you these days, and so the reprieve itself is nice, but it doesn’t last long. Soon you’re joined by some of the staff - some seeking breakfast, some looking for you or for Bucky. And so the next wave of action for the day begins.

next part: HOUSTON

I KNOW! WE JUMPED FROM THE DAY BEFORE THE WEDDING TO THE BEGINNING OF SEPTEMBER! But that's by design.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Nest Pic

Inspired by this little bit of omegaverse meta from forever ago.

steddie, omegaverse, modern au, courtship in the digital age

An omega’s nest is a sacred space; private, meant only to share with close pack members, with pups, with a mate. It’s a place to relax and feel safe. A refuge.

Steve’s nest is no different, plush and filled with scent tokens, some so old they smell only of him, of sweet orange and spice. Not many people have seen it: Tommy, after he first presented, back when it was mostly made of nesting supplies his mother picked up at Pottery Barn; Nancy, when they were dating, but she mostly made excuses to avoid being in his nest; Dustin a couple times, when the pup was too overwhelmed, and going home came with too much baggage around his parents’ messy divorce; and Robin. Of course, Robin! For Steve, some days it was almost like having an alpha his nest smelled so much like her. She’ll stroke his hair and hold him close, let him snuggle into her shoulder to block out the light when his migraines flare, and he feels whole.

Eddie’s never seen Steve’s nest, even with Steve offering up his massive kitchen table to Hellfire for close to a year. Even with how close they’ve grown looking out for the same group of pups. Even with Steve routinely spending a Saturday night on the squashy couch at Eddie’s, sharing a joint, his legs sprawled across the alpha’s lap. Even with how cuddly Steve gets when he’s high or tired, how much he clings to Eddie at every chance.

Even now that Eddie has officially given Steve a scent token for his nest.

But they’re still just friends. Close friends. Pack. But *just* friends.

At least, that’s what Eddie thinks until he gets a picture message from Steve close to midnight. No text, just a mess of blankets and pillows, the scrap of the torn up Dio shirt he used to make the patch on the back of his battle vest given pride of place. Warmth fills his belly, and Eddie stares at the photo until his phone goes to sleep, screen turning black.

He hurries to wake it, staring again for a few seconds, then typing a quick, “Can’t sleep?”

“Nope, went for coffee witg Robs way 2 late today. Feel wired” Steve sends back, followed quickly by a second text: “And my heat is due soon”

Eddie reads the words over and over, not sure how to respond, only for another picture to come through, one of Steve, too close up and cutting off most of his face, in his nest, one of Eddie’s hoodies around his shoulders—which Eddie doesn’t remember giving to him, Steve must have swiped it from his den when he was over. He looks cozy, and the pic shows off his neck, the long line of it, the soft swell of his mating gland disappearing into his shirt collar. Somehow, Steve is completely covered up, but it feels like the most salacious image Eddie has saved on his phone (of course he already saved it!). A nest pic is serious. An opening salvo to more.

But Eddie doesn’t trust himself, and he sends a simple, “Steve?” back, even as he feels himself chub up in his sweatpants.

Another pic, showing more of Steve, more of his nest, along with, “You should be here, Eddie”

Maybe he’s lost his mind, but Eddie types back, “15 mins, sweetheart,” as he struggles to find his shoes and his jacket and his keys. By the time he pulls into the Harringtons’ driveway, Eddie has 8 new texts all from Steve. He doesn’t bother looking at them, though.

Steve is waiting for him at the door, Eddie’s sweatshirt still wrapped around his shoulders. “Hey,” Eddie says as he approaches.

“Hey, yourself.”

“I figured we should actually talk in person, because this feels… fast.” Eddie bites his lip, stopping just short of invading Steve’s space.

“Is it, though?” Steve asks with a soft smile. “Robin always says I’m too obvious about my feelings.”

Eddie chuckles; Steve is very physical in his affections. “I need some words, Stevie.”

“I already invited you up to my nest, but I’ll say anything for you, Eddie.” Steve closes the distance between them, and leans in for a tentative first kiss.

Eddie kisses back, pleasant sparks filling his belly as he puts his hands on Steve’s hips. “Say you mean it,” he whispers when their lips finally part.

“I do. God, Eddie, you’ve gotta know that I’m yours. Your omega.” He put his hands over Eddie’s, holding himself in place and leaning their foreheads together. “Now I want my alpha with me in my nest.”

“Lead the way, Puppy.”

[loveesiren]

Doing It All For Us (Pt. 9)

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Rafe and Y/n share the exciting news. But trouble is always right around the corner...

Warnings: Language, smut, pregnancy

Word Count: 4.7k+

You couldn't believe you waited this long to get help. You felt so happy. You were taking it easy, spending your time with Rafe and only Rafe. You knew you needed to talk to Topper and Kelce. Thank them and apologize. But for now, you just wanted to be with your love.

Rafe made you breakfast every morning. He made sure you took your meds and he re-bandaged your wrist every day. Every time he saw the stitches holding your skin together he frowned, but he'd swallow his feelings and remind himself that you're still here with him. Alive and happy.

"What color did you pick?" You giggle as he brushes eyeshadow onto your lids. He wanted to do your make up and you let him. Laying in his lap on the bathroom floor as he picked through three drawers of make up, not knowing what a single product is. You explained each item to him and he was fully invested in doing his best work.

"Purple," He replies. "I love purple on you."

You smile, keeping your eyes closed as he works. You relax at the feeling of the brushes moving across your skin.

You peak up at him as he works on gluing green rhinestones to your face. He was fully concentrated on what he was doing and it was the cutest thing you'd ever seen.

"Done!" He finally says. You jump up in excitement and look in the mirror.

"Holy shit, Rafe," You say, examining your face. "This looks amazing!" The emerald green rhinestones complimented the dark purple shimmer perfectly. Your cheeks were the perfect shade of pink, and a dark brown gloss on your lips tied it all together. He even contoured your face perfectly.

Rafe blushes. "You look beautiful," He says, pulling you to him and kissing your temple.

You turn to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and staring up at him. "I've had such a nice time the last few days. Thank you."

He brushes his thumb over your cheek, savoring the cute smile that sat on your face. "I love being with you. I'm so happy you're home with me."

Rafe's phone rings, ruining the moment. He sighs.

You laugh, "Answer it, babe. I gotta put on setting spray so we don't lose this masterpiece." You wave around your face.

He smiles and reaches for his phone.

"Hello?"

You listen to Rafe talk as you spray your face, locking his artwork in place.

"I dunno, dude...I'll ask her." Rafe turns to look at you. "Do you want to go get lunch at the club? It's okay if not."

"Who's asking?

"Court, Kelce, and Top."

You smile. You've been holed up in your house since you got out of the hospital. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Rafe smiles at you. Happy you're ready to go out. "Yeah, we'll be there soon." He says into his phone before hanging up.

"You sure you're ready to go out, baby?" Rafe asks, wrapping his hands around your stomach.

Your breath hitches slightly. You still haven't told him. But the feeling of his hands over the life growing inside you makes you melt.

"Yeah, I need to see them." You say. "I need to apologize."

"No you don't, baby."

"I do, Rafe. I've put you guys through hell and it's not okay. I'm so so grateful to have you guys in my life but you guys don't deserve to witness what I've put you through."

You could see the water in Rafe's eyes as he looked away. He choked back his tears and pressed his lips to yours.

Rafe leads you outside, helping you into his truck. You smile as he drives towards the club. It was a beautiful day and you were with the person you loved most. The feeling of being sober was like a whole new high.

You started to get a little nervous when you saw Courtney, Topper, and Kelce standing outside the club.

Rafe reached for your hand after parking. "You sure you're okay?"

You nod and he brings your hand to his lips, kissing your skin so softly you can barely feel him.

Rafe comes around and helps you out of his truck. He clung to your hand tightly as you approached your friends.

"Y/N!" Courtney squeals, running over to you and wrapping her arms around you.

"Hey, bitch!" You chuckle.

"Have you told him?" She whispers in your ear.

"Not yet," You respond. "Tonight."

Courtney pulls back from you and smiles as she takes you in. You're starting to look like your old self again.

"How are you feeling?" Topper asks as he approaches you, holding his arms out.

"I'm doing good, Top!" You say as you hug him tightly.

Kelce comes to you next, wrapping you in a hug. "You look amazing." He says.

"That's cuz of Rafe. He did my glam today," You chuckle as you motion to your make up.

"Shit, Rafe! You have skills!" Courtney says.

Rafe blushes and pulls you to his side.

You all head inside and make your way out to the deck. Rafe pulls your chair out for you and you sit right between him and Courtney.

JJ comes up to take your order but you couldn't be bothered, you were feeling too happy being with your friends again.

Kelce and Topper order Mai Tai's. You Rafe and Courtney order water.

"Completely clean now?" Kelce asks you.

"Taking a break from the alcohol and drugs. Focusing on what's important." You say, glancing at Rafe. He smiled back at you, fiddling with his ear.

Courtney tries to hide a smirk, her being the only one that knows your little secret.

JJ brings your drinks back and you all order food. Topper and Kelce giving him attitude as usual.

When he walks off you take your opportunity. "So listen," You begin. "I just wanted to first of all thank you guys for being there for me during a really hard time. You guys have saved my life on multiple occasions and I can't tell you how grateful I am for that."

"We're always here for you." Topper says. You can feel Rafe's fingers trail over your skin as he listens to you.

"I also want to say sorry. I'm so sorry I've put you guys through this trauma."

"Y/N-" Kelce begins.

You raise a hand to him and cut him off. "You guys shouldn't have had to see all that. I'm so grateful for all of you and I'm so sorry. I'm going to do better." You promise.

Rafe tightens his grip on you. Courtney looks semi-sad but grateful for your apology. Topper and Kelce smile at you.

"We're here for you no matter what," Topper says. "We're just really glad you're okay."

You smile at them, thankful to have them in your life.

JJ brings your food out and the rest of lunch consists of you all eating and joking around. You were laughing harder than you have in months. You fully enjoyed experiencing you friendships sober.

You hold Rafe and Courtney's hands as you walk out of the club.

"You guys wanna go to a party tonight?" Kelce asks when you're all outside.

You cling tightly to Rafe, hoping he knows how to respond.

"No, I think we're gonna stay in tonight," He says, rubbing your back.

"You guys have stayed in all week," Topper groans.

"Next time, Top." You promise. "Rafe and I have business to attend to."

Kelce makes gagging sounds, earning a laugh from Courtney. Topper just rolls his eyes.

You turn to Courtney and hug her tightly. "Let me know how it goes," She whispers to you.

You nod with a smile before giving Topper and Kelce their hugs. You wave goodbye as you and Rafe walk back to his truck.

Once you're both inside, Rafe looks over at you with a goofy grin.

"What?" You giggle.

"I just love you so much."

"I love you right back!" You smile, giving him a kiss. "Take me home. I wasn't joking about that business." You wiggle your eyebrows at him.

Rafe bites his lip and smiles. Fully ready to spend the rest of the day inside of you.

"Wanna take a bath?" You ask as you both climb out of the truck.

"Absolutely I do," He says with a shit-eating grin. You can't help but smile back at him.

Rafe follows you up the stairs, unable to keep his hands off you. You head to the bathroom and turn on the water in your giant tub. You add lavender bubbles and some bath salts. God knows you can't take a bath without them.

"Can you make some tea, baby?" You ask Rafe.

"Of course, my love." He replies, giving you a quick kiss and running downstairs.

You walk over to your bathroom speakers, hooking your phone up to bluetooth. You throw on Lund before stripping out of your clothes.

You step into the bathtub and let the water run over your skin as you lay back. You took a few deep breaths, knowing you had to tell Rafe about the baby. You were terrified.

"Here you go, my love." Rafe says as he sets a mug of tea down beside you.

"Thanks, baby,"

Rafe rids himself of his clothes and steps into the bath with you, sitting across from you. You grab his hand under the water and smile at him.

"So pretty," He gushes over you.

"You're pretty," You say, causing him to blush. Your favorite sight.

He pulls you too him and you swim over happily, straddling his lap. His hands move to your ass, rubbing over your skin hungrily. "How can I make you feel good, pretty girl?" He asks, placing kisses on your collar bone.

"You can do whatever you want to me in a minute, baby. First I have to talk to you about something."

Rafe leans back. Worry taking over his features. "What do you want to talk about, angel?"

You sigh and bite your lip. "Rafe...do you...do you ever want like-like a family?" You ask him.

"Only with you." He says without hesitation.

You take his hand and guide it to your stomach. Pressing it against your skin as you hold your hand over his.

He looks up at you with a puzzled expression.

"I'm pregnant, baby." You tell him softly unsure of how he'll react. "They told me in the hospital. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, I was just so scared."

Rafe gripped your belly tighter. "You're pregnant?"

"Mhmm," You nod, biting your lip nervously.

"Like...like you're pregnant? Like...we are having a baby?" He asks.

"Uhm, yeah...if you want to." You tell him.

He snakes his hand around the back of your neck and pulls your lips to his, kissing you with more passion than he ever has before.

When you finally pull away to take a breath tears were falling from his eyes.

"We're having a baby!" He says excitedly, rubbing his hand over your stomach. "I can't believe it!"

You smiled, relaxing at the fact that he was so excited about it.

"My angel, you get more perfect every day. And now you're giving me a baby. I love you so fucking much." He says, beaming up at you.

You couldn't help but cry at his reaction. You had no words. You were ecstatic that he was excited about your baby.

You could feel him hard underneath you and you quickly bucked your hips up, grabbing his cock and lining it up at your entrance before sinking down onto him.

"Fuuuuck," He moans as he clings to your hips, resting his head against your chest as he helps you move up and down on his cock.

"You're going to be such a good dad," You tell him as he slides in and out of you.

"Say that again," He groans.

You lean down and whisper in his ear. "Such a good daddy, Rafe Cameron."

"I'll do anything for you and our baby, mama." He says, thrusting into you deeper.

"Fuck me from behind," You demand.

Rafe pulls you off of him and stands up, bringing you with him. He bends you over the side of the bathtub and thrusts into you again, holding you tightly to make sure you don't fall.

"Oh, fuck!" You cry out, loving the new angle of his cock thrusting in to you. He brings his hand around and rubs circles on your clit and you can feel yourself growing close.

"Pretty girl, anything you want, I'll give it to you. So amazing. Carrying our baby." He praises as he thrusts into you roughly. "You're everything I've ever dreamed of."

You reach your high, vibrating around his cock. "Fuck, Rafe!" You whine. He thrusts a few more times, exploding inside you.

"You're so fucking addicting," he pants as as he rests on your back.

"You make me feel so fucking good, Rafe." You mutter as you try to catch your breath.

"Come here, sweet angel." He says as he steps out of the tub and helps you out. "You need to rest."

Rafe helps you dry off and carries you to your bed. He lays beside you, running one hand through your hair while the other cups your stomach. You didn't have a baby bump yet but you both felt the little life growing inside you.

"I can't wait to meet our baby," Rafe whispers, nuzzling into your skin.

"I keep dreaming about him. He's gonna be a boy."

Rafe smiles up at you. "Any name ideas?"

You ponder for a moment and smile. "Do you know the meaning of your name, Rafe?"

"I do not," He admits.

"It means Wise Wolf. Or Counsel of the Wolf."

Rafe contemplates for a moment. "That's actually pretty cool."

You turn to face him. "So if it is a boy, like I think it is, let's name him Wolf."

Rafe smiles at you. "After me?"

"Of course. He'll be so strong and amazing just like his father." You praise.

Rafe blushes and bites his lip. "I like Wolf."

You smile at him as he runs his fingers through your hair. "We're gonna be parents,"

"Thank you," Rafe starts. "Thank you so much for choosing me."

"What do you mean?" You ask.

"You chose me. To be your boyfriend. To take your virginity. And now you're choosing to have a family with me. I won't let you down. I won't let Wolf down."

You smile. "You're the best decision I've ever made."

-

You fiddle with dress, unhappy with the way it sat on your body. You had just gotten back from your doctors appointment. Two and a half months pregnant. How the hell had you been pregnant this long and not noticed?

The doctor told you everything was fine. That you were healthy and so was your child. But you couldn't help but cry at the fact that you put so many toxins into your body while your baby was growing inside you. You didn't know, but you would never forgive yourself for it.

"You look absolutely amazing." Rafe said as he entered your bathroom, snaking his arms around your torso and brushing his thumb over your belly. "Mama," He adds, placing a kiss on your cheek.

"I'm nervous, Rafe." You admit.

"I am too. But we have to tell them. We can't hide it forever."

Only Rafe and Courtney knew you were pregnant. Rafe didn't love the fact that Courtney found out before him, however, he understood. But today, today was the day you'd be telling his family.

You wore a white sun dress, white strappy wedges to match. Despite your heels, Rafe still towered over you.

"You ready, angel? We gotta get there before guests start arriving."

The Cameron's were having a barbecue. All the Kooks on the island were invited of course. You and Rafe decided this would be the best time to tell them because if they ended up being pissed, the guests arriving would have them distracted enough for the two of you to sneak off.

Your stomach was doing flips as you pulled into Tannyhill. You had no idea how Ward and Rose would react to this news. You glanced over at Rafe, noticing he was equally nervous.

"We're really doing this," You state, taking a deep breath.

"Yep," Rafe responds. "I think I'm gonna puke."

"Me too," You say.

Just then, Wheezie walks out front and spots you guys sitting in the truck. She throws her arms up as if to ask you guys why you're just sitting there. She motions for you to come inside.

"Guess that's our cue." You say with a shaky breath.

Rafe swallows before hopping out of the truck and coming over to help you out. He wraps his hand around your waist as you walk slowly towards the entrance.

"Why are you guys being so weird?" Wheezie asks.

"We're not, Wheeze." Rafe says, clinging to you tightly.

You all enter the house. You swear you were going to vomit in the foyer. When you enter the kitchen, Rose and Ward greet you excitedly. Sarah and John B sit at the island and scoff.

You ignore them. Clinging to Rafe as your nerves rise.

Ward and Rose both notice the RC that sat healed on your chest as well as the bandage that remained on your wrist. They swallowed their thoughts and forced a smile. They knew everything that had recently happened, Rafe coming home crying about it. It took hours for Rose and Ward to calm him down. But that was not to be discussed today.

"Are you two ready for tonight? We always love doing an end of summer barbecue." Rose says.

"We are. We actually wanted to talk to you guys first." Rafe says, swallowing his fear.

Wheezie looks up, focusing on you and Rafe now as she tucks her phone in her back pocket. Sarah and John B turn their attention to you as well.

"About what, son?" Ward asks, slight concern coating his features.

You were praying the earth would open and swallow you up. Anxiety taking over your body as you let Rafe take control of the situation.

"Uhm, Y/N and I..." Rafe begins. "We, uhm..."

All eyes were on you and you just wanted it out in the open.

"I'm pregnant," You blurt out before you could stop yourself.

"Uhm, yeah. That..." Rafe says, awkwardly placing his hand on your stomach.

Everyone's eyes were wide, completely surprised by this information.

Ward sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was angry. The fact that his son impregnated Elliot Y/L/N's daughter. He could kiss that business deal goodbye.

John B and Sarah just stared at the two of you, wondering how the fuck you two psychos were going to be parents.

"Congratulations!" Wheezie broke out, running to give you a hug.

"Thanks, Wheeze!" You tell her. "We're really, really excited."

Your words seem to pull Ward from his disapproving demeanor. "Does your father know?" He asks you.

"Not yet. I'm going to write him."

Ward sighs again. "Rafe you-"

"Are going to be an amazing father." You cut Ward off, holding on tightly to Rafe and staring daggers at his father.

Ward cowered under your gaze. He had no idea what to think. He knew he needed to protect you and keep you safe while Elliot was away. But he was scared shitless of how Elliot would react to the news of his son getting you pregnant. He would find any reason to be disappointed in Rafe and you were going to put an end to that.

You stood up proudly, placing your hand over Rafe's on your stomach. From the second you found out you were pregnant, you were happy. Rafe is the only person you could picture having a life with and you felt honored to be carrying his child inside your body.

"Congratulations," Rose finally said, rounding the island pulling you both into a hug. "I can't wait to meet the little one." She gushes.

Ward shakes off any negative thoughts. He pulls you in for a hug and you accept hesitantly. "Congratulations, son." He says, pulling Rafe into a hug.

You smile, seeing how happy Rafe is at his dad's gesture.

"You guys seriously support this?" Sarah scoffs. "These two...psychopaths having a kid?"

"Shut your fucking mouth, Sarah." Rafe hisses.

"I'm sorry I just think it's a little weird that two people who cut each other up and drink each others blood should be allowed to have kids."

You step forward but Rafe quickly pulls you back. "You're lucky I'm pregnant." You spit. You were going to have to get used to this. Not fighting.

"Sarah, stop!" Ward scolds her. "Either be happy for your brother or don't say anything at all."

Sarah scoffs. "Congratulations, fucking vampires." She says before pulling John B out of the room.

You swallow your anger and lean into Rafe. He holds you tightly, bringing a hand up to play with your hair.

"I apologize for her." Ward says. His face was still riddled with concern. But he was going to keep his mouth shut since you seemed to be so happy. It wasn't like you and Rafe couldn't afford a child. But Sarah was also right, you were crazy. But crazy in love and loyal to your pack. You'd protect Rafe and your baby at all costs.

People begin to knock on the door and Rose is quick to answer, inviting people inside and leading them out back.

Rafe sits you down at the kitchen table. "Let me get you some water, mama." He says.

You smile as he hands you a glass of water. "Should we tell Kelce and Top tonight?" You ask.

"If you're ready, baby girl." He responds, brushing your hair behind your ear.

You smile and nod. "I am. I'm so happy."

Rafe smiles, your words making him melt. All he wants to do is make you happy. He's never felt good enough, especially in his fathers eyes. He swore to himself he'd never make his child feel that way.

"Let's go get you something to eat, pretty girl." He says, helping you up and guiding you to the back yard.

He fixes you a plate of food before guiding you to one of the tables by the pool. "Here, baby, eat," He says, offering you some cheese and crackers.

"I'm not that hungry, babe." You tell him.

"Gotta eat, baby." He insists. "For you and Wolfy."

You smile at the nickname, accepting the food he's holding for you.

"You guys seriously make me gag," Topper says as him, Kelce, and Courtney approach where you're sitting, making themselves comfortable in the rest of the chairs at the table.

"Good to see you too," You chuckle.

"You okay?" Kelce asks, noticing your hand on your stomach.

"Yeah! I'm great! We actually uh...we have some news." You say with a smile.

Topper and Kelce look confused, glancing back and forth between you and Rafe. Courtney tried to hide her knowing smile.

You look at Rafe, urging him to be the one to tell them since you so lovingly did so for his parents.

"We're having a baby," Rafe says, smile wide on his face.

Topper chokes on his drink. You giggle as he attempts to catch his breath.

"You? You two are having a baby?" Kelce asks, jaw dropped as Courtney attempts to help Topper regain his breath.

"Mhmm," You nod. "I'm two and a half months. I had no idea..." You say, a tinge of sadness in your voice.

Rafe places a comforting hand on your leg. "We saw the doctor today and everything is going great!" He smiles down at you, reminding you that your baby is perfectly healthy.

"Holy shit, that's amazing!" Kelce says, lunging towards you and wrapping you in a hug before he does the same with Rafe.

"Congratulations!" Topper finally coughed out.

Courtney came around and hugged you from behind. "I'm so happy for you, Sunflower!" She squealed, kissing your cheek. "And you too, Rafey!" She says, wrapping her arms around his chest and kissing his cheek as well.

You and Rafe were nothing but smiles. Happy that everyone was being so supportive. Atleast, almost everyone.

You could feel Sarah and John B's eyes on you. They were whispering to eachother on the other side of the yard.

Rafe noticed you frown and looked over to see what you were staring at. His jaw tightened, absolutely sick of Sarah's shit. "Wait here," He said, placing a quick kiss on your head.

He stood up and made his way over to Sarah and John B. "What's your problem, Sarah?" He hissed.

John B stepped in front of her protectively.

"Why don't you ever just mind your own business?" Rafe continued.

"It's not my fault you and your psycho girlfriend got pregnant. You're 19, Rafe!"

"Yeah, and you're 16 running around with Pogues and robbing drug dealers!"

Sarah scrunched up her face at him.

"Just stay out of my business and keep your mouth shut around Y/N. Or I'll tell dad all about your little adventures."

"Like he'd believe you? You're the one that was buying coke from Barry!"

Rafe sucked on his bottom lip. Irritation present in his expression. "I'm clean now. Mind your business, Sarah." He said before walking off back towards you and his friends.

-

You brushed your hair, pinning at back slightly as you stared at the mirror in Rafe's bathroom. You could hear him and Wheezie talking in the hall. Rafe sounded upset.

"I know like a thousand times more about the business than she does!"

"I don't know, Rafe! Rose just wanted me to tell you."

"Hm," You hear Rafe grumble before he walks back into his room.

"Everything okay, baby?" You ask him. He was sitting on his bed, head in his hands, obviously pissed off. "Hey, look at me." You say, bringing his chin up to meet your gaze.

Rafe leans into you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You cradle his head and play with his hair as you hug him silently.

"I gotta take care of some stuff," He mumbles.

"Do you want me to come?"

He shakes his head. "No. You stay here. Rest. I just gotta talk to my dad."

"Isn't he going to the Bahamas with Sarah? What's going on, Rafe?"

"Baby, please. Please just stay here. Watch a movie or something." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He grabs his credit card and hands it you. "Order some food. I'll be back soon, I promise."

You look at him hesitantly but you nod in agreement. Ward was always a touchy subject with Rafe and you didn't want to push it.

He presses a kiss to your lips and then one to your stomach before hurrying out of his room.

You tried to rest, nap, watch tv, nothing was helping you relax. You were so confused by Rafe's behavior earlier. You hadn't heard from him in a couple hours and you were starting to worry.

When will you be home? I miss you. Please be safe.

You pressed send and sighed. You walk downstairs and head towards the front door, ready to get some fresh air.

"Hey Rose," You greet.

"Hey! How are you feeling?" She asks as she sprays the hose over her flowers she works so hard on.

"I'm okay. I haven't had like morning sickness or anything. I hope the baby is this easy when he gets here."

Rose laughs. Rafe was a wild child so I imagine you two will have your hands full.

You smile halfheartedly. "He was acting so weird earlier."

"I haven't seen him today. Maybe he's just a little overwhelmed? I imagine you both are."

"Yeah I guess so. It still doesn't really feel real."

"It will. Once you start showing." She says with a smile.

Before you could say anything else, Rafe's truck was pulling into the driveway.

He got out, panic evident in his eyes.

"Rafe?" You ask as you stand up.

You see Sarah climb out of the passenger side and make her way around. She looked like absolute hell and you noticed blood on her shirt and hands.

"What are you doing here? Why aren't you on the plane?" Rose asked her.

"Ask Rafe." She scoffs before storming off into the house.

Rafe looks like he's on the verge of tears. "I-I need to talk to you." He says, his voice cracking.

"What is it?"

"Not here." Rafe grabs you wrist and drags you into the house. Not angrily but forceful enough to concern you.

"Rafe what's going on?!" You ask as you finally enter his room, shutting the door behind him.

He begins pacing back and forth, hyperventilating as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Fuck, fuck..." He muttered to himself.

"Baby, calm down!" You yell, wrapping your arms around him.

Rafe falls to the floor, pulling you down with him as he sobs into your neck. You'd seen him have panic attacks before but never like this. He grips you so tightly, as if he let go you'd simply evaporate.

"Sweet boy," You begin, feeling yourself begin to cry as you run your hand over his back.

"I-I did something really b-bad." He lets out between sobs.

"What did you do, baby? Whatever it is we can fix it. I'm sure."

Rafe shook his head. "I-I can't lose you."

"You're not going to lose me baby, I'm right here. I'd never leave you!" You try to reassure him. "Just tell me what happened so we can figure it out, together. Always together."

Rafe sat up and looked at you, chest heaving, tears running down his face as he tried to control his breathing.

"I shot Peterkin."

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! :)

@outerbankspov @torturedtypewritersdept

[hawkinshorror94]

AN- I really enjoyed this request because I truly am. SIMP for dadstarion.

Hope

“You’ll be what drags him back to me.” Cazador murmurs examining your chained up form, his smooth hand picks up your chin so your eyes meet his “Especially with that second little flutter in your belly.” His mouth splits into a wide fanged smile, a predator’s smile. He pats your cheek softly before letting your chin fall back to your chest. His spawn had done well drugging you, keeping you complacent and quiet till he came and then he could finish the ritual. He’d decide what to do with you after.

“She’s pretty, Astarion.” Cazador laughed as his hand tightened in your hair to quell your squirming. This was your first day sober in the Szarr mansion and everything felt overwhelming, the smell of iron and rot hanging in the air like a noxious fog. The smell made your already queasy stomach lurch and the hand tightened in your hair didn’t help anything. 

Your eyes watched Astarion, begging but you weren’t sure for what. For him to save you, for him to stay put because this is exactly what Cazador had wanted all along. Seeing Astarion immobile on the stairs leading to the dungeon angered Cazador and he showed it kicking the back of your knees till you kneeled before him. 

“Tell him your little secret,” Cazador purred as he pressed the knife to your throat. “Maybe that will get this dance started.” When you didn’t speak he pressed the knife harder into your throat till you felt a trickle of blood running down your skin. “Tell him!” He roared and you flinched back from him, the knife digging more into your throat than before.

“I’m pregnant” You cried out and he finally threw you away from him because now Astarion was moving, straight to his death. You scramble away as Gale helps you to your wobbly legs. 

“Get to safety, we have this, we have him.” Gale assured as you wiped tears that streamed from your eyes as you nod making your way towards the stairs. You watch in fear as the battle plays out below you, fear clutching your heart and throat. You should be down there, but unarmed and with no armor, you’d be dead in minutes. So you have to have trust in your party. You have to have trust in him.

His fingers are covered in Cazador’s blood as he clutches your face, his fingers shaking from adrenaline, sadness, fear, and relief. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you nod. You would be okay now. Now that he was there “Is what he said true?” He whispers barely loud enough for you to hear and you nod again a whispered “yes” leaving your dry mouth. 

He presses his lips to your forehead and holds you there for a long time. Time slows around you and it’s just him. The feel of his cool lips on your warm forehead and then you feel a light tentative touch to your lower belly over your tunic. And you hear a shuddered gasp leave his lips and he finally moves to kiss you, the hand on your belly never moving. He had freedom now, he

had friends, he had you and now he had a baby on the way. The endless tortures and his own sins had accumulated to this, true happiness and peace. 

“Elaris, if you don’t stop running in my house.” You snatch the little girl up as she giggles squirming in your arms “I’m going to feed you to some awful beast in the Underdark.” She tickles the girl’s sides as she laughs.

“I hear dhampirs taste like ham.” Astarion chimes in from the kitchen table as he watches the exchange between mother and daughter. You look down at the wide eyed girl, your own eyes staring back at you.

“Papa, I don’t taste like ham.” The girl huffed and crossed her arms over her chest in your arms. You stifle your laughter as her little lip rolls out.

“Then perhaps chicken,” Astarion says standing from the table making his way over to you both. “Or maybe Rothe ribs. Or maybe goblin toes.” He continued and the girl squealed with laughter again as Astarion grabbed her from your arms. As if on cue, the new baby cried in from the bassinet in the sitting room. You start to make your way to get him and Astarion catches your wrist. 

“We’ll get baby Helios, won’t we?” He looked at the girl who was clutching his side. And she eagerly nodded. You can’t help but feel the corners of your mouth upturn into a smile.

“Thank you.” You say as he pulls you close to him and his daughter, the feel of love radiates around you like a blanket on a cold night. 

“No, thank you darling.” He murmurs, pressing his lips to yours.

(Much to Elaris’s disgust.)