#it’s been a while since I’ve felt that way | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

movingmusically · 1 day ago

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can u pls austin x wife!reader or pregnant!reader?

Word Count: 7,237

Masterlist

All of Us

Married life with Austin had been a dream—mostly. Sure, there were the occasional quirks to adjust to, like his habit of leaving guitar picks everywhere or the way he somehow managed to steal half your blanket in the middle of the night. But those small annoyances were overshadowed by the warmth of being with someone who loved you deeply and made you laugh every single day.

Still, life hadn’t slowed down after the wedding. If anything, it had sped up. Austin’s career was booming, and your own schedule wasn’t far behind. Between your work commitments and his time spent on set or promoting his projects, your days felt like a never-ending whirlwind. Yet, even with the chaos, there’d been moments of quiet clarity—conversations about your future, about the family you both dreamed of having one day.

The decision to stop using contraception had been an easy one, even if it felt a little surreal at first. You weren’t actively trying for a baby, but you were open to the idea. “If it happens, it happens,” Austin had said with that easy smile of his, his hand warm and reassuring on yours. “And if it doesn’t right away, that’s okay too. We’ve got time.”

You’d carried those words with you ever since, a quiet reassurance whenever the thought of parenthood felt overwhelming. But in the back of your mind, you’d assumed it would take time—months, maybe even a year or two. Enough time to keep the idea comfortably abstract.

At least, that’s what you thought.

Lately, though, something felt… off. It wasn’t anything obvious, just a subtle shift you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You felt unusually tired, dragging yourself out of bed each morning despite a full night’s sleep. Your appetite was off too—some mornings you couldn’t stomach breakfast, while other days you found yourself craving the strangest combinations of food. And then there was coffee. The thought of it made your stomach turn, which was almost laughable considering how much you normally relied on it to function.

You brushed it off at first, blaming it on stress or a passing bug. But it was hard to ignore the way you felt during brunch with a close friend one weekend. As you sat across from her, pushing a perfectly good cappuccino to the side, she gave you a curious look.

“You okay?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “You’ve been looking a little pale lately. And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I’ve seen you skip coffee twice now.”

You waved her off, trying to muster a casual smile. “I’m fine. Just tired, I think.”

Her brows knit together, her concern evident. “Tired, queasy, and avoiding coffee? Those are classic signs of pregnancy, you know.”

You froze, her words landing with an unexpected weight. “I—what?”

She shrugged, clearly not thinking much of her comment. “I’m just saying, maybe you should check. Stranger things have happened.”

The idea hung in the air between you, filling the silence that followed. She moved on to another topic, chatting away about her plans for the week, but you barely heard her. Your mind was racing, replaying her words over and over.

Could I be?

The thought unsettled you, not because it was unwelcome but because it hadn’t even crossed your mind until now. You and Austin had been so focused on life as it was—work, travel, settling into your marriage—that the possibility of pregnancy felt like a distant concept. And yet, as you sat there, your hand resting absently on your stomach, you realised it wasn’t as impossible as you’d thought.

Your thoughts drifted back to when Austin had come home for a whirlwind weekend visit about a month ago. It had been one of those rare breaks in his filming schedule, and the two of you had made the most of every second. You’d spent lazy mornings in bed, stolen kisses in the kitchen, and tangled limbs in the quiet intimacy of nights that felt too short.

You’d even joked as he packed to leave again, “Don’t get too comfortable on set. I’ll need you to come home and warm up my side of the bed soon.” He’d grinned, pulling you close and murmuring something cheeky about how he’d done more than warm the bed. The memory made your cheeks flush now, the timing suddenly clicking into place in your mind. Could it really have happened then?

By the time brunch ended, you couldn’t shake the idea. As much as you wanted to dismiss it, the possibility lingered, growing stronger with every passing moment.

The idea of being pregnant was impossible to ignore now. The symptoms, your friend’s teasing comment, the gnawing curiosity—it all pointed to one possibility. But even as the thought settled in your mind, you felt a flicker of doubt. It could be nothing. Just stress. Or something I ate. It doesn’t have to mean…

Still, the thought lingered. By the time you got home that evening, the nagging question had grown too loud to ignore. You paced around the living room, chewing your bottom lip as your mind raced. Part of you wanted to wait—wait until Austin was home so you could do this together. You’d always pictured it that way, the two of you holding hands and staring at the little test stick together, waiting for the result.

But he wasn’t here. He was halfway across the country on set, wrapping up the last few days of a gruelling shoot. And though you knew he’d want to be part of this moment, you couldn’t wait any longer. You needed to know.

Your heart thudded in your chest as you grabbed your keys and headed to the nearest pharmacy. The fluorescent lights felt harsher than usual as you scanned the shelves, your eyes darting between the rows of pregnancy tests. There were so many options—some promising fast results, others boasting extra accuracy. You grabbed a box at random, barely reading the label, and hurried to the counter.

The drive home felt surreal, the little box on the passenger seat seeming heavier than it should. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Just a few days ago, pregnancy hadn’t even crossed your mind, and now you were about to find out if your entire world was about to change.

Back at home, you set the test on the bathroom counter and stared at it for what felt like an eternity. The instructions were simple enough—pee on the stick, wait three minutes—but the weight of what those three minutes might reveal made your hands tremble. What if it’s positive? What if it’s negative? What if this is all a big mistake and I’m just overthinking everything?

You exhaled shakily and opened the box, your fingers fumbling slightly with the wrapper. “Okay,” you murmured to yourself, trying to steady your nerves. “It’s just a test. You can do this.”

The seconds that followed felt both rushed and agonisingly slow. You did what the instructions said, placed the test stick on the counter, and set a timer on your phone. Then you sat down on the edge of the bathtub, hands clasped tightly in your lap as you stared at the little white stick.

Your mind raced with a thousand thoughts at once. You thought about Austin’s easy smile and the way he always reassured you whenever life felt overwhelming. You thought about the quiet conversations you’d had late at night, whispering about what the future might hold. You thought about how surreal it all felt—this tiny piece of plastic holding the answer to a question that could change everything.

The timer buzzed, jolting you out of your thoughts. Your heart felt like it might beat out of your chest as you stood up and reached for the test. For a moment, you hesitated, your hand hovering just above it. This is it, you thought. Whatever happens, everything changes now.

With a deep breath, you picked it up and looked at the result.

Two lines. Positive.

You stared at it, your breath catching in your throat. A wave of emotions crashed over you all at once—disbelief, excitement, nervousness, and something you could only describe as pure joy. “Oh my god,” you whispered, the words trembling on your lips. “Oh my god.”

You sank onto the floor, the test still clutched in your hand as tears pricked your eyes. It felt surreal, like a dream you hadn’t fully allowed yourself to imagine yet. You were going to have a baby. You and Austin were going to have a baby.

For a moment, you let yourself sit there, basking in the quiet wonder of it all. Then the realisation hit you: Austin didn’t know yet. The thought made your heart race all over again, but this time, it was with excitement. He’d be home in just a few days, and you wanted to tell him in person. This wasn’t something you could share over the phone, not when it was this important.

You stood up, your mind already racing with ideas. If there was one thing you knew, it was that Austin deserved to find out in a way that was as special as the moment itself. Something meaningful, something that would capture just how much this moment meant to you both.

The day Austin was due home, you could barely contain your anticipation. You had cleaned the house twice, set the table for his favourite dinner, and even spent longer than usual deciding what to wear. The news you carried felt like a treasure burning a hole in your pocket, and you wanted everything to be perfect.

When you heard the familiar rumble of his car pulling into the driveway, your heart jumped into your throat. You hurried to the door, your hands trembling slightly as you opened it just in time to see him stepping out of the car, his bag slung over one shoulder. He looked tired but still so impossibly handsome, his broad shoulders and easy smile lighting up the fading daylight. The sight of him made you realise just how much you’d missed him.

“Hey, baby,” he called out, his voice warm and familiar, the sound washing over you like a balm.

You didn’t even wait for him to close the car door. You rushed down the porch steps and into his arms, wrapping yourself around him tightly. He dropped his bag to the ground, laughing softly as he pulled you close, burying his face in your hair.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured, his voice low and full of emotion. His arms tightened around you, one hand stroking your back as if to reassure himself you were really there.

“I missed you too,” you said, your voice muffled against his shoulder. You felt his lips press against your temple, soft and lingering, before he pulled back just enough to look at you.

“You’re even more beautiful than I remembered,” he said, his voice a little hoarse as his fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face.

You laughed lightly, your heart fluttering under the weight of his gaze. “You’re just exhausted,” you teased. “Come inside—I made your favourite.”

His eyes lit up, and he kissed your forehead before grabbing his bag. “You didn’t have to do all that,” he said, following you into the house. “But I’m not complaining.”

Inside, the warm, familiar scent of home surrounded you both. The table was set, soft music played from the speaker in the corner, and the faint glow of candles gave the room an inviting warmth. He paused to take it all in, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’ve outdone yourself,” he said, his voice tinged with gratitude.

You shrugged, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling in your chest. “You deserve it. It was a long shoot.”

“The longest,” He set his bag down and turned to you, his hands sliding around your waist as he pulled you close. His lips were warm and familiar, the kind of kiss that made the rest of the world fade away. You melted into him, your hands curling around the back of his neck, your fingers threading into his hair.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes half-lidded as he smiled softly. “I still can’t believe I’m home,” he murmured, his voice like a warm embrace. “Being away from you… I hated it.”

Your heart pounded as you smiled up at him, your hands resting on his chest. It was now or never. “We hated it too,” you said, your voice soft but deliberate.

His brow furrowed slightly, the words taking a moment to register. “We?” he repeated, tilting his head as he looked at you.

You bit your lip, a nervous laugh escaping as you stepped back and reached into your pocket. “We,” you echoed, holding up the pregnancy test.

The moment the test came into view, his eyes widened. He blinked, as if unsure whether he was seeing things correctly, before slowly reaching out to take it from your hand. He stared at the little screen, his breath catching audibly, before looking back at you.

“Are you…” he started, his voice trembling. “Are we…”

You nodded, tears springing to your eyes. “We’re having a baby,” you said, your voice breaking with emotion.

He stared at you for a beat longer, the weight of your words sinking in. Then, without warning, a brilliant smile broke across his face, and a shaky laugh escaped his lips. “Oh my god,” he breathed, running a hand through his hair. “This is real?”

“Yes,” you said, laughing through your tears. “It’s real.”

He let out a breathless laugh, dropping the test on the counter as he swept you into his arms. “I can’t believe it,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re going to have a baby.”

You held onto him tightly, feeling the warmth of his embrace as his body trembled slightly. He buried his face in your neck, and you could feel the dampness of his tears against your skin. “I love you so much,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You’ve just made me the happiest man in the world.”

“I love you too,” you said, pulling back just enough to look at him. His cheeks were wet with tears, his eyes bright with a mix of disbelief and joy.

“We’re going to be parents,” he said, his hands moving to frame your face as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, then your lips. “This is everything I ever wanted.”

You laughed softly, sliding your hands into his hair as you kissed him back. “It’s everything I ever wanted too.”

For the rest of the evening, you stayed close to him, basking in the joy of the moment. Dinner was an afterthought; you spent most of the time on the couch, his arms wrapped securely around you as he asked a million questions about how you’d been feeling, how long you’d known, and what the next steps were.

As the night wore on, you felt a sense of calm settle over you. The secret you’d been carrying was now shared, and seeing Austin’s reaction had eased every worry you’d had. This was the beginning of something new, something beautiful, and you were ready to face it together.

The first ultrasound appointment marked the next big milestone, one that felt surreal even as you sat in the clinic waiting room. Austin had cleared his schedule the moment the date was confirmed, insisting that no rehearsal or meeting could be more important.

The two of you were seated side by side, his knee bouncing slightly as he held your hand. “You nervous?” you asked softly, glancing at him.

He looked at you with a small, sheepish smile. “A little. It’s just… we’re going to see them,” he said, his voice catching slightly. “I still can’t wrap my head around it.”

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Me neither,” you admitted, your own nerves bubbling under the surface. “But it’s exciting too, right?”

“Exciting doesn’t even cover it,” he said, leaning over to kiss the top of your head.

When your name was called, Austin stood so quickly that he knocked over the magazine he’d been pretending to read. You giggled as he sheepishly bent to pick it up, his hand finding yours again as you walked together toward the exam room.

The technician greeted you warmly, explaining each step of the process as you got situated. Austin stood next to you, his hand never leaving yours, his eyes flicking between you and the screen with equal parts anticipation and awe.

When the image finally appeared on the monitor and the sound of the heartbeat filled the room, the air seemed to shift. It was a sound so steady, so alive, that it sent a shiver down your spine.

“That’s your baby,” the technician said with a kind smile, pointing to the tiny figure on the screen.

Austin let out a shaky breath, his grip on your hand tightening. “That’s… that’s them,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His free hand came up to wipe at his eyes, and when he turned to look at you, his face was lit with a mix of wonder and joy. “That’s our baby,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

You nodded, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. Instead, you squeezed his hand, letting your tears fall freely as you both stared at the screen, watching the tiny heartbeat that had changed everything.

That evening, as you sat curled up together on the couch, Austin couldn’t stop looking at the ultrasound photos. He held one up, studying it intently before glancing at you. “Okay, we need a nickname,” he announced suddenly.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “A nickname?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding firmly. “We can’t just keep saying ‘the baby.’ They need something special, something that fits.”

You tilted your head, considering his words. “Alright, Mr. Creative. What do you suggest?”

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Bean,” he said, holding up the photo again. “They’re tiny, they’re cute, and it just… feels right.”

You laughed, shaking your head but secretly loving the name. “Bean,” you repeated, testing it out. “Alright. Bean it is.”

From that night on, Bean became a part of your everyday vocabulary. Austin greeted your belly every morning with a soft “Good morning, Bean,” and every evening, he read stories or played music to your growing bump. His guitar, his piano, even his voice—all of it became a nightly ritual, his way of connecting with the little life you were creating together.

One evening, as you both lay on the couch watching a film, you felt it—a small but unmistakable flutter low in your belly. You froze, your hand instinctively pressing to the spot.

“What’s wrong?” Austin asked, immediately alert.

You grabbed his hand, your heart racing as you placed it where you’d felt the movement. “Just… wait,” you whispered.

A few seconds passed. Then it happened again—a tiny kick, soft but distinct. Austin’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping slightly. “Was that…” he started, his voice barely above a whisper. “Was that a kick?”

You nodded, tears springing to your eyes. “Yeah. That was them.”

He let out a breathless laugh, his hand pressing gently against your belly. “Hi, Bean,” he murmured, his voice filled with wonder. “It’s me. Your dad. I can’t wait to meet you.”

The kicks became more frequent after that, each one a little reminder of the life growing inside you. Austin couldn’t get enough of them, often resting his hand on your belly whenever he was near, his face lighting up every time he felt a movement.

When a brief press tour took him away for a few weeks, the separation was harder than either of you anticipated. But even from afar, he found ways to stay connected. Every night, without fail, he FaceTimed you, his guitar in hand as he sang softly or read aloud.

"It’s Dad," he’d say, his voice warm even through the screen." Just checking in to see how you’re doing.”

You’d laugh, your hand resting on your belly as you said, “I think they’re listening. They always move when they hear your voice.”

By the time he returned, you were both ready to tackle the next big project: the nursery. The two of you spent hours picking out decorations, arguing over paint colours, and laughing as you assembled tiny pieces of furniture.

“You know,” Austin said one evening as he struggled to attach a crib railing, “I’m starting to think Bean might just have to sleep in a cardboard box.”

You laughed, leaning against the doorframe as you watched him. “Don’t give up now. You’re doing great, Dad.”

He looked up at you, his expression softening as he smiled. “I still can’t believe this is happening,” he said, his voice quiet. “We’re going to be parents.”

You walked over, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We are,” you said softly. “And I think we’re going to be pretty good at it.”

As the nursery slowly came together, it became more than just a room—it was a symbol of the life you were building together. Every little detail, from the fairy lights strung along the ceiling to the shelves filled with tiny books, was a labour of love.

Standing together in the finished room, your hand resting on your belly and Austin’s arm around your shoulders, you felt a deep sense of peace. “It’s perfect,” you whispered, leaning into him.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his other hand covering yours. “It’ll be even more perfect when Bean’s here,” he said, his voice filled with quiet wonder.

And in that moment, as you stood there dreaming about the future, you knew he was right.

Still, no amount of Austin’s sweetness could stop the physical toll of late pregnancy from getting to you. One evening, as you were getting ready for bed, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and stopped, groaning audibly.

“I feel huge,” you groaned, turning sideways to examine yourself. “I look like I swallowed a beach ball.”

From the bed, Austin looked up from his book, his gaze softening as he took you in. He set the book aside and got up, crossing the room to stand behind you. His hands slid around your waist—well, as much as they could with the bump in the way—and he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“You’re not huge,” he said, his tone playful as his eyes danced with mischief. “You’re radiant.”

You rolled your eyes, still frowning at the mirror. “Radiant? Austin, I look like a science experiment gone wrong. My ankles are swollen, my back is killing me, and I haven’t seen my feet in weeks.”

He smirked, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “You’re carrying our baby,” he murmured, his hands dropping to cradle your bump. “That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You snorted. “Sexy? I’m wearing mismatched pyjamas and haven’t shaved my legs in days.”

He turned you gently to face him, his eyes twinkling with a mix of affection and mischief. “Still sexy,” he said, trailing kisses from your jaw to your collarbone. “And for the record, I don’t think Bean cares about your legs.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound turning into a soft sigh as his hands moved to rub your lower back. “Fine,” you said, leaning into him. “You win this round.”

That wasn’t the only way Austin had been taking care of you. On nights when sleep felt impossible—when the baby seemed to think your bladder was a trampoline or your hips ached from the weight of it all—he’d do everything in his power to make you comfortable. One night, after watching you fidget and sigh for the fifth time in an hour, he rolled out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom. When he came back, steam followed him.

“Bath’s ready,” he announced, holding out his hand. “Come on.”

You let him guide you into the bathroom, the warm scent of lavender filling the air. The tub was filled just enough for you to soak without feeling like a beached whale. As you eased in, Austin climbed in behind you, his legs bracketing yours as his hands moved to rub your shoulders.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you murmured, leaning back against his chest.

“Of course I did,” he said, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You’re growing a whole human. The least I can do is help you take a load off.”

“Besides, I like taking care of you,” he replied simply, his hands moving to your bump as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

As his hands traced soothing circles over your belly, the two of you fell into an easy conversation about names. It had become a favourite topic of late, though you hadn’t settled on anything yet.

“What about Lori?” you suggested softly, tilting your head back to look at him. “If it’s a girl.”

Austin stilled for a moment, his eyes glistening as he met your gaze. “After my mom?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your hand covering his where it rested on your bump. “She meant so much to you. And I know she’d be proud of you, of us. It feels right.”

His throat worked as he swallowed hard, clearly trying to keep his emotions in check. “I think she’d love that,” he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

The moment stretched between you, warm and tender, until Bean decided to interrupt with a particularly enthusiastic kick. You both froze before bursting into laughter.

“Guess they like the name,” Austin said, grinning as he pressed his palm against the spot where the baby had kicked. “Hey, Bean. You’ve got good taste.”

As the weeks passed, the anticipation grew, but so did the love and humour that kept you both grounded.

The due date came and went without so much as a twinge of labour pains. You’d counted down the days on your calendar, convinced that by now you’d be holding your baby, but Bean had other plans. The doctor reassured you that everything looked fine and that it was perfectly normal for first babies to take their time—though they did mention that if nothing happened in another two weeks, they’d induce labour.

It wasn’t exactly the news you wanted to hear, especially since patience wasn’t exactly your strong suit. “Two weeks?” you groaned on the drive home, slumped in the passenger seat. “That feels like a lifetime.”

Austin, ever the optimist, glanced over with a calm smile. “Hey, your mom said she always went past her due date with you and your brothers. Maybe Bean’s just taking after you.”

You gave a dramatic sigh, though his hand finding yours on the armrest softened your mood. “If that’s the case, Bean owes me a big apology for making me this uncomfortable.”

“I’ll make sure they’re on their best behaviour when they get here,” Austin said with a wink, bringing your hand to his lips for a kiss. “But for now, you’re stuck with me.”

As the days passed the news of your overdue baby had spread among your family and friends, and with it came an avalanche of unsolicited advice on how to speed things along. Your phone pinged with messages every few minutes, each suggestion more bizarre than the last.

“Your sister says I should try eating spicy food,” you told Austin one evening, scrolling through yet another message as you sat with your swollen feet propped up on the coffee table. “And my cousin swears by bouncing on a yoga ball.”

Austin, seated beside you with his guitar in hand, raised an eyebrow. “What about the one from your aunt? Didn’t she say something about pineapple?”

“Pineapple, acupuncture, castor oil... oh, and Claire suggested a long walk and warm baths.” You let out an exasperated sigh.

Austin chuckled, setting down his guitar and shifting closer. “Anything else?”

You hesitated, biting your lip as you scrolled through one particularly cheeky message. “Well, uh… Ashley had a suggestion that worked when she was pregnant with with Jupiter.”

“Oh, this should be good. What is it?” He grinned, giving you a playful nudge.

“She said… sex might help.” You glanced at him from under your lashes, feeling a blush creep up your neck. “Something about the hormones and stimulating labour.”

Austin’s grin turned downright devilish. “Now that’s advice I can get behind.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile at the way his hand slid to your belly, his thumb brushing slow, soothing circles. “It’s science,” you teased, leaning into his touch.

“Science, huh?” His voice dropped, the playful glint in his eyes turning into something softer. “Well, far be it from me to argue with science.”

Before you could reply, his lips were on yours—soft, warm, and filled with all the love and anticipation that had been building over the past nine months. He kissed you like you were the most precious thing in the world, and for a moment, you forgot all about your swollen ankles and aching back.

You melted into the kiss, your fingers curling into his shirt as his hand slid around your back, pulling you closer. The warmth of his touch, the way his lips moved with yours—it was enough to make you forget, if only for a little while, the discomfort and impatience of these last few days.

When he pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath was warm against your lips. “You know,” he murmured, his voice a low hum, “I think science might be onto something.”

You laughed softly, the sound turning into a sigh as his hands traced gentle, soothing circles on your lower back. “You’re impossible,” you teased, though the fond smile on your face gave you away. “But fine. If you’re so dedicated to the cause, who am I to argue?”

His grin widened, and he leaned in to kiss you again, slower this time, his hands sliding to cradle your belly. “You and Bean,” he whispered, his voice thick with affection. “My whole world.”

Your heart swelled, and you reached up to cup his face, brushing your thumb along the curve of his cheek. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you replied, your voice soft and full of emotion.

For a while, the two of you stayed like that—wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten. The discomfort and impatience of waiting melted away in the warmth of his embrace, replaced by a sense of peace and quiet joy. In moments like this, it was easy to remember why you’d fallen in love with him in the first place: his unshakable optimism, his unwavering support, and the way he always managed to make you feel like the most important person in the room.

When you finally pulled away, your hands still resting on his shoulders, you couldn’t help but smile. “So, Mr Butler,” you said, your tone light but teasing, “what’s your next plan to convince Bean to make their grand entrance?”

He chuckled, his hands still cradling your belly. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of tricks up my sleeve,” he said with a wink. “But first, I think we should start with a good night’s sleep. You need your rest, mama.”

You rolled your eyes but allowed him to help you up from the couch, his hands steady and sure as he guided you toward the bedroom. As much as you hated to admit it, he was right—you needed all the rest you could get. After all, Bean could decide to arrive at any moment, and you wanted to be ready.

As he tucked you into bed, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. Maybe tonight would be the night. Or maybe not. Either way, you knew you were in good hands—with Austin by your side, there was nothing you couldn’t handle together.

It was the middle of the night, two days before your scheduled induction, when you woke up feeling... off. At first, you thought it was just another bout of pregnancy discomfort—the kind you’d grown used to over the past few weeks. You shifted in bed, trying to find a position that didn’t make your back ache, but something was different this time. A dull, rhythmic sensation began to spread from your lower back to your belly, each wave stronger and sharper than the last.

“Austin,” you whispered, reaching over to shake his shoulder gently. “I think…”

He stirred with a soft groan, his hair a dishevelled mess as he blinked up at you, still caught in the haze of sleep. “What’s wrong?” His voice was thick with concern. “You okay?”

You nodded, though your breath hitched as another wave rolled through you, stealing your focus for a moment. “I think it’s starting,” you managed, your voice trembling.

It took him a moment to process your words, but when it clicked, he shot out of bed like someone had lit a fire under him. “It’s happening?” he asked, his voice pitching higher. “Like… happening happening?”

You nodded again, gripping his hand as the contraction gripped you. “Definitely happening.”

His reaction was instant and chaotic, a blur of nervous energy as he darted around the room. “Okay, hospital bag—where’s the hospital bag? Car seat’s in, phone’s charged—oh, wait, I need to call the doctor—”

“Aus.” Your voice was steady despite the pain, a small smile tugging at your lips as you watched his frantic motions. “Breathe.”

He stopped mid-step, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you with a sheepish grin. “Right. Breathing. Got it.”

The contractions were coming steadily now, but still far enough apart that the doctor advised waiting at home a little longer before heading to the hospital. Austin stayed glued to your side, his energy shifting from panicked to determined as he settled into a rhythm of supporting you. Every contraction was met with his steady voice, his warm hands on your back, and the constant reassurance that you were doing amazing.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his tone low and soothing as he rubbed circles over your lower back during another wave. “I’m so proud of you.”

You leaned into him, his presence a grounding force as the hours stretched on and the contractions grew stronger. He timed each one with the kind of precision that would’ve been comical if you weren’t so focused on riding out the pain. At one point, you caught him muttering countdowns under his breath, and you couldn’t help but crack a small smile.

“Relax, Coach Butler,” you teased faintly when the contraction passed, your voice breathless but fond. “I’m not running a marathon.”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re doing something way more badass than that.”

When the time finally came to leave for the hospital, Austin was at your side in an instant, helping you into the car as though you were made of glass. “You know I’m not going to break, right?” you teased, though your voice hitched as another contraction tightened your belly.

His gaze softened, his hand brushing your cheek as he murmured, “You’re carrying my whole world. I’m not taking any chances.”

The drive to the hospital was a blur of flashing streetlights and the steady pressure of his hand holding yours. He murmured soft words of encouragement every time a contraction hit, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your skin. The excitement and nerves hung in the air between you, tangible and electric, but through it all, his love and steady presence anchored you.

By the time you arrived, you were ready—ready to meet the little person who had turned your world upside down in the most wonderful way.

The hospital was a flurry of activity as soon as you arrived, the nurses greeting you warmly as they guided you to a room. Austin stayed glued to your side, his hand firmly in yours as they asked you questions and hooked you up to monitors. The rhythmic sound of Bean’s heartbeat filled the room, steady and strong, and it was enough to ease some of your nerves.

“You’re doing great,” Austin murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your forehead. His voice was calm, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightened every time you grimaced through a contraction.

Labour was a whirlwind—hours that felt both endless and fleeting, a blur of pain, anticipation, and the steady presence of Austin by your side. He held your hand through every contraction, his voice calm and reassuring as he reminded you to breathe, even when you were ready to throw the ice chips at him.

“Doing great, baby,” he said, his hand brushing damp hair from your forehead. “Almost there.”

You gave him a look that could’ve melted steel, the pain sharp and unrelenting. “You say that one more time…” you panted, gripping his hand hard enough to make him wince.

“Noted,” he replied with a lopsided grin, "I’ll file that under ‘things not to say to a woman in labour.’" Though he didn’t flinch as your grip tightened again with the next contraction.

Hours later, when the time finally came to push, everything else faded into the background. The world outside the room ceased to exist, and all you could focus on was the determination to meet the tiny person who had been growing inside you for the past nine months. Austin’s voice was a constant, grounding you when the pain threatened to overwhelm.

It was his strength, his unwavering presence, that carried you through the final moments. “You’re so close,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can see the head.”

With one final, all-consuming effort, a sharp cry filled the room, cutting through the haze of pain and exhaustion. The world seemed to stop for a moment as the doctor lifted a tiny, wriggling figure into view.

“It’s a girl,” the doctor announced, their voice warm with joy as they placed her on your chest.

Time seemed to slow, her cries quieting the moment she felt your warmth. She was perfect—tiny fingers, a button nose, and a head full of fair hair that reminded you so much of Austin. Your heart swelled to the point of bursting as you traced her features with trembling fingers.

“Hi, Bean,” you whispered, tears spilling freely now. “Hi, baby girl.”

Austin leaned over, pressing a kiss to your temple as his hand rested gently on hers. You both sat there for a moment, the world fading away as you took in the miracle between you. It was Austin who broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “Lori,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. “If you’re still okay with it… I think it’s perfect.”

You nodded, your voice too thick with emotion to speak. You glanced down at her, stroking her soft cheek. “Hi, Lori,” you whispered. “Welcome to the world.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. The love in his gaze was enough to undo you all over again. “She’s so tiny,” you said, your voice breaking. “And she’s ours.”

“She’s ours,” he echoed, his voice no more than a whisper.

The minutes that followed were a haze of firsts: the weight of her in your arms, her tiny hand curling instinctively around Austin’s finger, the soft, exhausted smiles you exchanged as the world outside the delivery room faded away.

When the nurse came to take Lori for her first check-up, Austin hesitated, his hand lingering protectively on her tiny head. “You’ll bring her right back, right?” he asked, his voice laced with both awe and worry.

The nurse smiled. “We won’t be far, Dad. She’s perfect, by the way.”

As Lori was carried out of the room, Austin sank into the chair beside your bed, his head falling into his hands. You reached for him, your fingers brushing his wrist. “Hey,” you said softly. “You okay?”

He looked up, his eyes red-rimmed but filled with a quiet, overwhelming joy. “I just… I can’t believe she’s here,” he said, his voice trembling. “She’s real. And she’s ours.”

You smiled, your own exhaustion forgotten as you reached for his hand. “She’s everything, isn’t she?”

He nodded, leaning in to kiss you, his lips lingering on yours for a moment that felt like it could stretch forever. “You’re the strongest person I know,” he murmured against your skin, his forehead resting against yours. “Thank you for her.”

You looked up at him, your chest tight with love and exhaustion. “We made her together,” you murmured, your fingers lacing with his. “She’s all of us.”

When they returned with Lori swaddled in a soft blanket, Austin reached out, his hands trembling slightly as he cradled her for the first time. The way he looked at her—his gaze full of wonder and tenderness—made your breath catch.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over her tiny hand. “I’m your dad.”

You couldn’t look away. Seeing Austin holding Lori—his large hands supporting her tiny body as he murmured soft, loving words—solidified everything you’d been through together. It wasn’t just love; it was the kind of connection that grounded you, that made everything you’d ever dreamed of feel possible. This was your family, built on a foundation of unwavering devotion and joy.

“She looks so much like you already,” Austin said, glancing up at you with a watery smile. “Same little nose, same pout. She’s beautiful.”

“She already has you wrapped around her finger,” you teased softly, though your voice was thick with emotion.

Austin looked up, his expression unapologetic. “Completely,” he admitted with a small, wobbly smile. “She’s got me for life.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of exhaustion and wonder. You eventually dozed off for a little while, but when you woke, the sight before you took your breath away: Austin was still cradling Lori in his arms, his head bent as he whispered to her.

“I can’t wait to show you the world,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise. “We’re going to have so many adventures, baby girl.”

You blinked back tears as you watched him, the love in his voice resonating deeply within you. If you had any doubts before, they were gone now. This was everything you had ever wanted, everything you had dreamed of, and so much more.

Austin glanced up and caught your gaze, his lips curving into the softest smile. He came over, settling beside you on the bed, and placed Lori gently in your arms. Together, you stared down at her, drinking in every tiny detail as the weight of the moment settled over you. It was a beginning—a brand-new chapter, a fresh adventure. And you couldn’t wait to live it.

#austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x you #fan fiction #fanfic #imagine #fiction

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lydiasfalling · 2 days ago

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PINS AND NEEDLES

percy jackson x athena!reader

➸✧˖*°࿐ taglist : open!

˗ˋˏ warnings : use of y/n, post breakup, angst, possible part two??? ˎˊ-

‧₊˚✧ lydia’s yap fest ! ✧˚₊‧

post breakup yearning? sign me up. also i’ve never ever written athena reader cause it feels too much like writing myself and i don’t want to project but i hope u guys enjoy!!! (unedited!)

it had been exactly three weeks, two days, and six hours since you and percy jackson had broken up. now, while it pained you to admit, you missed him. your friends would tell you that you couldn’t miss him. not when you had left him the way you did. truth is, life as a demigod was hard. having no guarantees that you would even be alive tomorrow was a hard pill to swallow. it had gotten to a point where it felt wrong to give percy another weight on his back. he was already under the pressure of saving the world, he didn’t need a relationship to balance on it.

first came the arguing. it had become a staple for the recent era of your relationship. you would bring up the idea of taking a break, which he would turn down. he refused to hear you out whatsoever. then came the silent treatment. he couldn’t stand how every time you’d spoken, you would flip it back to the topic of breaking up. he thought better to just ignore the problem all together. finally, came the blow up. you two had found a rare moment of peace amongst the war. his fingered takes through your wet hair as you laid on his lap. you had again decided to bring up the topic again. the resulted in the fight. breaking up wasn’t easy, but something you saw necessary.

now, you paced in your cabin. these past few weeks had been a personal tartarus for you ( and you assumed percy, or he-who-shall-not-be-named ). every little thing reminded you of him. the smell of the lake you’d spend hours swimming in. the fields you would run through hand-in-hand. the bed you would spend hours having—well, you get the point. every corner held a memory. this realization made you want to rip your scalp clean off.

however, no matter how much you would deny it, you were still hopelessly in-love with perseus jackson. watching him from a far made you realize just how lucky you had been to call him yours. the beauty of his soul was one you wish could be captured and put in a jar for everyone to admire. the selfish part of you wanted that jar on your nightstand. you decided now was the time. you would finally leave the comfort of your cabin and venture into the camp. your siblings were sure that you were aware how many times percy had asked them about you. he told them to make sure you got proper care since he couldn’t be the one to do so. you knew he’d be happy to see you getting dressed to leave.

“y/n? you coming?” your sister had asked you. it was just about to be lunch.

“mhm. give me one moment.” the mirror showed you what you had dread seeing. heavy purple bags laid under your eyes. your cheeks seemed hollow. people would argue that you couldn’t be sad since you broke up with him, but they didn’t understand. you and percy were—by definition—joined at the hip. you did everything together. now the color had been drained out of usually exciting things.

“any day now.” you joined your sister at the doorframe, stepping out into the sun. the aroma of camp consumed your senses, putting you at a momentary state of ease. this ended soon as you felt the formalist presence of a certain brunette boy. his aura was contagious. you could feel him radiating half way across the world. however, he was unusually dull. turning around, you finally came face to face with percy.

“i. . . uh. . . hi, ang—y/n. didn’t see ya there.” even in the awkward atmosphere, he still managed to bring your shoulders down and your brows to relax.

“mhm. . .” you didn’t truly speak, scared of what would leave your mouth. you quickly turned back around and began to shuffle away. percy hand caught your wrist in record time.

“can we, ya know, talk? i don’t think i got to say my piece when everything went down.” he kept his hand on your skin, goosebumps trailing up your arm at the feeling. you ripped you arm away as if the touch had burned you.

“now’s not a great time.”

“okay, well, when is a good time?” he shifted on his heels

“sometime. . . other. . . than now?” you said, though it sounded more like a question to both of you.

“what happened?” he questioned, an exasperated look coming over his features.

“what?” you asked.

“to us! what happened to us? i mean. . .fuck, y/n. i was in love with you. scratch that. i am in love with you. and im trying really. really hard to respect your decision. but how can i? how can i walk past you every single day knowing im so beyond in love with i can’t even function? i cant even think about battle anymore. it’s you. you occupy every thought from the moment i wake up to the moment i fall to sleep. it’s painful.”

“it’s for the best.” you whispered.

“bullshit! i think you’re just scared!” his volume increased, causing other campers to turn in your direction.

“lower your voice, percy.” you smiled at everyone, hoping they would stop listening. “like i said, this really isn’t a good time.” you left soon after those words left your mouth, not allowing him any time to protest.

“y/n!” he called after you. you simply pretended not to hear it as you re-entered your cabin, slamming the door behind you.

taglist : @laufeysvalentine @cowboylikemac @lydiascabinsix @raysmayhem-72

my masterlist

#lydiasfalling #lydia’s thoughts ₊˚.༄#real #percy jackson #x reader #pjo #percy jackson x reader #he’s so pretty #i fucking adore percy jackson #percy jackson x you #percy jackson blurb #percy pjo #percy x reader #pins and needles #i love percy jackson #percy jackson angst

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ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit · 1 day ago

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You break down into tears and tell them: "It’s been so long since I’ve felt this happy, I think I just got overwhelmed. You make me happy.”

Heartslabyul dorm; Savanaclaw dorm (here); Octavinelle dorm; Scarabia dorm; Pomefiore Dorm; Ignihyde Dorm; Diasomnia Dorm

Leona Kingscholar – It isn’t often that his dorm throws a feast, but when they do they party like, well, animals. He knows that you haven’t had a chance to really experience any of the cultures outside of the Isle, and let’s be honest, if there is anybody who needed a break in this damn school, it was you.

You had crashed into his lounging spot, legs weak from dancing and a drink placed in your hand. He doesn’t think anything of it, telling you that it’s safe. He had meant the drink. But when you look at him, you hear something different. Something whole, something that echoes in the way he shares his bed with you, his dorm, his food, his people, rough and tumble as they are. Even when you are fighting to earn your share, you know that he wouldn’t allow things to go too far.

When he looks at you trying to hide the tears, and even your soft explanation, he understands completely. By the Ancestors does he understand.

He pulls you deeper into his chair, his jacket tossed over your head as he hides your weakness in the seclusion and dark.

“One day, you’ll get the lion’s share.” He rumbles, rubbing at your arms while you sip on your drink. “Joy will crack under your teeth and you will never hunger for it again.”

Ruggie Bucci – It isn’t often that they hold a feast at Savanaclaw but when they do they party like, well, animals. Ruggie especially has been looking forward to this for weeks. Free food, great drinks, dancing until the sun comes up, and all those delicious leftovers to snack on and hide away!

He never expected to get you on the dance floor, but you learn fast, hips swaying and stomping with beats from his home. It’s only when you two finally come together, sweating and out of breath that he realizes.

When you explain though, he starts laughing, his own tears pinpricking until the both of you are simply taken off the floor, your hysterical laughter almost concerning. Ruggie picks the both of you up, splits a donut and eases the both of you back into the couches.

“We are going to be rich in joy one day,” he tells you, eyes shining as he wipes the tears from both of your eyes, “You’ll be drunk of it, with no end in sight.”

Jack Howl – You are one of the few people who will at least try and keep up on his runs, and he appreciates it. He knows it’s mainly for the views at the end, but you come none the less, and it’s nice to have a running buddy, even if he has to run a bit slower for you.

When the sun peaks out over the water, it’s a sunrise he’s seen a dozen times over. The sun in bringing a glow to your face, the wind tossing your hair around, he still appreciates little moments like these were the both of you get to get away. That’s when he sees the small trail ghosting over your cheek.

He doesn’t fully understand, but he pulls you in anyway, nuzzling into your neck until you start giggling from his hair.

“Most people don’t cry when they’re happy, you know.” He murmurs, but his tail is going a mile a minute behind him.

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst #Leona Kingscholar #Ruggie Bucci #Jack Howl #twst Leona #twst Ruggie #twst Jack #twst yuu #twst x reader #twst x yuu

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bradleysass · 3 days ago

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Harry Potter - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 801

Harry Potter prided himself on being a decent student. He wasn’t Hermione-level brilliant, but he did well enough. He could strategize in Quidditch, hold his own in a duel, and solve riddles in life-or-death situations. But when it came to people—understanding what they wanted, what they felt—he was utterly useless.

And right now, the person most confusing him was Draco Malfoy.

Draco had been relentless since the start of term. Not in the usual way—not with taunts about his parents or snide remarks about his Quidditch skills. No, lately, Draco had been... weird. He called Harry insufferable but stood just a little too close when he said it. He sneered at Harry’s hair but reached out as if he wanted to touch it before catching himself. And then there was the way he lingered, as if waiting for something Harry didn’t understand.

Was Draco flirting with him? Or did he just enjoy tormenting Harry in a new, confusing way?

Harry had no idea. And there was no one worse to ask for advice than his dads.

Regulus Black and James Potter were, by all accounts, a miracle. A miracle because they should have never worked, and yet, somehow, they did. They had a ridiculous love story—one Harry had grown up hearing in bits and pieces. James, with his stupidly big heart and inability to let things go. Regulus, with his sharp words and sharp eyes, always pretending he didn’t care while caring too much. If opposites attracted, then they were a bloody gravitational force.

At dinner that night, as Harry pushed food around his plate, James and Regulus carried on one of their usual conversations—if they could even be called that.

James, grinning as he stole a piece of bread from Regulus’ plate: “Just admit you think I’m the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Regulus, not looking up from his book: “You’re the most exhausting man I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

James, smirking: “Still means you like looking at me.”

Regulus, deadpan: “Unfortunately.”

Harry had grown up seeing their dynamic. He had witnessed the way Regulus softened only for James, the way James never let Regulus slip into his worst habits of self-isolation. It was obvious to everyone that they were in love.

But Harry wasn’t them. He didn’t understand how two people who seemed to drive each other mad could also love each other. Which brought him back to Malfoy.

“Are you two always like this?” Harry asked, interrupting whatever smug retort James had lined up next.

Regulus glanced at him over the rim of his teacup. “Like what?”

Harry gestured vaguely between them. “Like this. The constant back and forth.”

James grinned. “It’s part of our charm.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “More like your punishment.”

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. “How did you—when you first—how did you know you liked each other? Like, actually liked each other?”

James’ eyebrows shot up, and Regulus blinked. A rare moment of being caught off guard.

“Well,” James said slowly, “I’d been in love with your dad since I was seventeen, so—”

“I tolerated him first,” Regulus cut in smoothly. “And then, when he refused to leave me alone, I figured it was either murder or love.”

James beamed. “See? Romantic.”

Harry groaned. “That’s not helpful.”

Regulus finally set his book down, watching Harry with that unnerving ability to see too much. “Why are you asking?”

Harry hesitated. “There’s someone. And I—” He exhaled sharply. “I can’t tell if he likes me or just enjoys annoying me.”

James lit up. “Wait. Likes likes you?”

Regulus hummed in thought. “Ah. Malfoy.”

Harry choked. “What—how—?”

James spun in his chair, practically vibrating with excitement. “It’s Malfoy?! I knew it! I knew there was something there!”

Regulus, unbothered, simply sipped his tea. “It’s obvious.”

“No, it’s not obvious!” Harry exclaimed. “That’s the whole point! I can’t tell if he’s—” He waved his hands around, struggling for words. “If he’s flirting or if he just hates me in a really weird way!”

James turned to Regulus with a huge grin. “Ah, to be young and oblivious.”

Regulus shot him a look. “You were never oblivious. Just stubborn.”

Harry slumped back in his chair, exhausted before this conversation had even properly started. “So? What do I do?”

Regulus set his cup down with a quiet clink. “Ask yourself this: If Malfoy weren’t Malfoy, if he were just some nameless person acting the way he does, would you already have your answer?”

Harry opened his mouth—then promptly shut it.

James, of course, still had to get the last word in. “Or, you know, just kiss him and see what happens.”

Regulus sighed.

Harry banged his head against the table.

This was not going to be easy.

#marauders #jeggyverse microfics #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #james potter #regulus black #harry potter #drarry #draco malfoy #microfic #i apologize that this came out longer than usual #AND I SEEM TO BE UPLOADING LATE AGAIN TONIGHT

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bookworrm1999 · 1 day ago

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How Far Away? Part 2

Caleb x Mc

Tags: unplanned pregnancy, presumed death, depression, miscommunication

Summary: Mc and Caleb fight right before he goes on a long mission into space. Caleb ends up MIA while Mc finds out she’s pregnant. She struggles to deal with the grief while Caleb is fighting for his life to make it back home to her.

Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

2 weeks had passed but time dragged on slow for you.

You were back at your place and back to work. Being in Caleb’s home without him there was both comforting but so very lonely.

You didn’t know if it was the depression, the loneliness, or the memory of Caleb’s small sob that you had caught that last day you were together.

But you weren’t eating, your clothes felt a little looser but you felt a little bloated in your lower stomach.

Maybe it was your period coming…

This thought stuck with you as you filled out your report. Tara stopped by your desk, eyes glittering with worry.

“Are you doing ok?”

You muster up a smile and laugh

“Yeah I’m fine, why?”

“Your face looks worn and skinny. Are you eating ok?”

“Just had a bit of a stomach bug.”

The captain was walking nearby, she stopped hearing your words and turned to look at you with narrowed eyes.

“You’re sick?”

“Uh, I think so, maybe? I’ve felt like I have been anyways.”

“Go home early today and go see your doctor. We don’t need a virus sweeping through the association and leaving us with minimal staff.”

You sighed, you should’ve kept your mouth shut.

Typing up the last words on your most recent take down of a rogue wanderer. You catch a rare glimpse of your partner Xavier.

His eyes seemed to scan you as he asked

“Are you okay?”

You throw your hands up in exasperation and stand up to leave for the day.

“Not you too! I’m fine, don’t worry.”

He kept his eyes on you as you gathered your coat and bag.

“If you’re sure…”

“Yes I’m sure Xavier, good night.”

You didn’t bother putting on your coat as you left the building. You grabbed your phone and dialed the doctor's office.

“Akso Hospital, how can I help you?”

“Hi, I’d like to make an appointment to see Doctor Zayne as soon as possible.”

“Can I have your patient number?”

As you boarded the subway to head home, you read off your number. The city started to pass you by as you waited in silence.

“Actually he has an opening tonight at 6 PM, can you make it?”

You check the time, it’s 5:15 PM. Just enough time to stop somewhere and grab a protein drink since that’s all you can stomach.

“Yes I can make it, thank you.”

“We will see you at 6 then. Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

You slip your phone into your pocket and lay your head on the window. Your stomach churns, but you haven’t felt hunger since Caleb left.

All that food he had made, it was all wasted.

He had packed it up all neatly in the fridge for you but you had spent the few days left at his house over the toilet.

So it had gone into the trash, making you feel horrible. Who knows when you’d get to taste his cooking again?

Who knows what your relationship would be like when he got home?

Caleb had left you that little note saying he was sorry, it was tucked into the case of your phone.

A physical reminder for you that he had really been here.

He wouldn’t be back for 4 months though. Keeping yourself busy was the only way to avoid sinking into the deep rut you could feel coming on.

Your long sigh fogged up the glass, winter was coming.

Getting off the subway, you headed to a nearby cafe. Inside the atmosphere was warm but all your focus was on that sad beige drink in a carton inside the fridge rack.

You grabbed it and waited in line.

Spacing out at first but a familiar voice caught your attention.

“I’ll pay for her drink too.”

“Zayne?”

“Going to workout?” You glanced down at your protein drink and laughed a bit.

“No, just about all I can stomach these days.”

You followed him to the side of the counter where he grabbed his presumably sickeningly sweet treat in a box.

Zayne frowned a bit before asking

“Are you sick?”

“I think so. I actually have an appointment here with you soon at 6. My boss insisted I go check before I go back to work.”

He nodded a bit before holding the door open for you.

“I’ll walk you there then.”

Companionable silence follows you down the streets. As do all you thoughts of Caleb.

You can’t help but feel that the reason he was so scared to define your relationship is because of what the Fleet higher ups might do.

All the secrets and what they were up to. Caleb wanted to keep you out of it but he also wanted you next to him.

It was quite the conundrum, you got it.

But it wasn’t fair to either of you.

Sighing deeply, letting out a waft of visible breath in front of you.

Oh well, you’d have to wait for him to come home to even fix things.

No communication was possible between ground and deepspace.

You followed Zayne in silence up to his office. He motioned the receptionist to check you in as he watched you with worried eyes.

You were uncharacteristically quiet.

Zayne set his box down at his desk and took a seat, he motioned at the seat in front of him for you to sit.

Sitting without a word, you could tell your silence unnerved him.

But you didn’t have the energy to play polite right now.

“What are your symptoms?” He brought up your vitals while asking you specifics.

“I’ve been feeling nauseous all through the day, been a bit a dizzy but that’s probably because I haven’t been eating much. I don’t have much of an appetite and I think I’ve lost a little weight.”

“You look like you haven’t been sleeping well either.”

Averting your eyes, you deflect

“That doesn’t have to do with this.”

“Mmmm, if you insist.”

He flicks through your vitals before something catches his attention.

“Are you sexually active?”

This question startles you a bit but you answer hesitantly

“Yes… what does that have to do with anything. Wait…. are you saying?”

“Yes. I’m seeing evidence of you being pregnant. Looks like it’s 5 weeks along but we can do some more in depth scans to be sure.”

You don’t hear anything after that.

Feeling a mixture of dread, wonder, happiness, and wondering how the hell you were going to deal with this?

“Was this a wanted pregnancy?” This question snapped you out of your spiral.

“Well I didn’t even know that I was pregnant! But….. yes, I think so.” Caleb’s baby. You bring your hands to your slightly bloated abdomen.

Ah, that’s why.

You hadn’t even noticed that your period was late in all the turmoil.

“I can give you a referral to an OB if that’s what you prefer.”

“Yes thank you, I appreciate it.”

He sends you some virtual information and lets you know that you should read the e-book on what to expect.

“Thank you Zayne.”

“Right, well you should get home. The information I sent you should have some foods that may be easier to keep down. I would suggest reviewing those and actually eating something. The weight you’ve lost already isn’t great for the baby or you.”

You suddenly feel guilty, not that you knew that you were pregnant but it still made you feel bad.

“Yes thank you Zayne, good night.”

You start to head out but he calls your name out so you stop to look back at him expectantly.

He seems to swallow a bit harshly before uttering

“Congratulations”

Smiling for real for the first time in half a month, you glow at him

“Thank you!”

You head out and head home.

Caleb may be gone for now but he had left you something very precious.

You hadn’t thought that you would be pregnant in your relationship quite this soon but you did what this baby. It was Caleb’s after all.

Wait

Caleb.

He doesn’t know and you have no way of telling him. He won’t be gone for the whole pregnancy but he was going to miss a lot of the early important milestones.

You don’t even know if he wants the baby.

No no, you shake your head.

He would definitely want this baby.

Determined now, you reach your apartment and sit on your couch while sipping your sad protein drink.

Using your phone, you look at the list of foods in the information Zayne sent over.

Crackers, ginger, fruits, a lot of mild and still somewhat sad foods but it was better than a protein drink.

Quickly tabbing over to a delivery app, you load up on early pregnancy foods to be sent over that night.

Task completed, you stretch back over the couch.

What a long day.

Oh! You could write letters and send Caleb voice as well as video messages so that when he gets back he’ll have a total record of what happened.

That way he could still be a part of it in some way.

Settling down into the couch, you hold your phone up to record your face.

“Hi Caleb! Guess what!?”

Making a show out of it, you bring your face close to the camera and glare at the imaginary Caleb.

“You got me pregnant! All those times you told me you would just pull out have come back to bite you. I told you so!”

You laugh a bit before continuing

“But really, I’m excited. I miss you so much so this is like having a small piece of you with me always.”

You look down where you had been unconsciously rubbing that small bloat that really wasn’t a true bump yet.

“Oh do you want to see?”

You place the phone on the coffee table, propping it up against your fake plant.

“See! It’s not a true bump but you can feel the firmness and see my little soon to be bump.”

You run your hand over it to exaggerate it. Smiling down sadly before glancing back at the camera.

“I wish you had been here to find out with me. You would’ve probably fainted if I had taken a test to check and I showed you the positive result. And don’t tell me you wouldn’t have!”

You tear up a bit at the thought of him being gone for all this.

“I wish you were here…”

You grabbed your phone and brought it back to your face again.

“But I’ll send you lots of updates! So you can see them all when you get back! I love you Caleb. Come home soon okay?”

You stop the recording, sending it to him. Knowing he wouldn’t see it for a few months. But you were just glad to make him a part of the process somehow.

All the while, unaware that Caleb may never come home to you.

Tags: @moonberry69 @supermyeon22 @tinnyrabbit @gavin3469 @midiplier @tabi-callico

#love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace #lads caleb #caleb x mc #caleb x you #caleb fanfic

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ivyues · 2 days ago

Text

Chasing Yesterday | 1 | - Bang Chan

Bang Chan x lost connection trainee friend

Years after splitting paths, Bang Chan didn't expect a simple text to bring an old friend – and old feelings – back into his life.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The training rooms smelled of sweat, determination, and dreams that didn’t come easy. Chris always lingered a little longer than the others, his eyes fixed on the mirrors, wondering if his reflection would ever transform into someone worthy of debut. For years, it was the same – watching friends reach their dreams while he stayed behind, burdened by doubt.

There was also you. You weren’t just another trainee to Chris. Sure, you were a hard worker, someone who matched his relentless pace, but you were also his anchor. Late-night conversations about dreams, shared snacks in the practice room, and bursts of laughter after a particularly tough day made the grueling years bearable. He never told you about the way his heart would race when you smiled at him or how your encouragement after his failures felt like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. He kept that silly little teenage crush away, afraid to ruin what you two had.

But around the time Han joined the company, you decided to leave. The dream of becoming a K-pop idol didn’t burn as brightly for you anymore, and while Chris understood, he hated losing yet another close ally. One day, you were practicing next to him and the next day, you were just… gone.

The years passed. Stray Kids debuted, and Chris threw himself into his work, becoming the leader his members needed him to be. Life moved on, but every now and then, in quiet moments, he’d wonder what you were doing.

It wasn’t until one day, years later, when he was catching up with Sana that your name came up.

“You remember Y/N?” Sana asked casually over coffee, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Of course, I remember her,” Chris said with a small smile. “It’s been years, though. I haven’t talked to her since…” His voice trailed off, the memory bittersweet. “I wonder how she’s doing.”

Sana grinned. “Funny you should say that. I got her number recently. Want it?”

Chris blinked, startled. “Her number?”

“Yep,” Sana said, sliding her phone toward him. “Go on. Text her. She’d probably love to hear from you.”

That night, Chris sat on his bed, your number staring back at him from his phone screen. He hesitated, typing and deleting messages, his nerves getting the better of him. Days passed before he finally worked up the courage to text you.

“Hey, this is Chris. Sana gave me your number. It’s been a while. How have you been?”

Chan hit send and immediately regretted it. What if you didn’t reply? What if you didn’t want to talk to him at all? He set his phone down, trying to distract himself, but every buzz made his stomach flip.

A few hours later, his phone lit up.

“Chris as in Christopher Bang Chan?”

He smiled, relief washing over him as he quickly typed back. “Yeah, it’s me. This is Y/N, right?”

Your reply came almost instantly: “Yeah. It’s been ages! I can’t believe you’re texting me!”

Chris hesitated for a moment, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard, before replying, “I’ve missed you. I hope you’re doing well.”

There was a brief pause before your next message arrived: “I am, thanks. You too. I’m proud of you. I’ve watched your MVs – You’ve come so far.”

The thought of you keeping up with his career sent a rush of warmth through him. He stared at your message for a moment, rereading it before typing back. “I wouldn’t be here without you. You know that, right?”

Your reply came with a teasing tone that made him laugh out loud. “Once you’re famous and living the idol life, you forget to text old friends, huh? 😜”

“Hey, I’m here now!” he shot back.

And just like that, the ice was broken. Over the next few days, your texts became constant – snippets of your lives, fond memories of the trainee days, and playful banter. It felt like no time had passed, and yet, in some ways, everything had changed.

One day, Han caught Chris grinning at his phone in the corner of the dorm. It was rare to see their leader so visibly relaxed, much less smiling to himself. Intrigued, Han leaned in, nearly giving Chris a heart attack.

“Hyung, who’s got you giggling like that? Is it someone I know?”

Chris scrambled to lock his phone. “It’s nothing, it’s just...an old friend. Do you remember Y/N from when we were trainees?”

Hearing him say your name, Han’s curiosity only grew. “Not really, but you were pretty close right? Hyung, why are you just texting? You should meet her. It’s been years, right? I bet she’d love to catch up.”

Chris hesitated. Meeting you in person? That thought felt heavier than he expected. He wasn’t sure why.

“Hyung.” Han’s tone softened, sensing his hesitation. “You’ve told me stories about her. She meant a lot to you back then, right? What’s stopping you?”

It was a question Chris couldn’t easily answer, but it nudged him to act. A few days later, after much internal debate, he texted you.

“How about coffee this weekend? There’s this café I like. We could catch up properly.”

Your response was quick and enthusiastic: “I’d love that! Let me know the place and time.”

-----

The café was warm and inviting, its earthy tones and gentle lighting creating a cozy ambiance. Chris arrived first, nervously fiddling with his phone as he waited. He hadn’t seen you in years, and the thought of reconnecting stirred a mix of excitement and anxiety. Would he recognize you? Would it feel the same as it did back then?

When the bell above the door chimed, Chan looked up, and there you were. You hadn’t changed much, and yet, you looked so different. The teenage girl he remembered had matured into someone who carried themselves with quiet confidence. Your smile was the same, though, lighting up your face as you spotted him.

“Chris,” you greeted, and the sound of his name in your voice felt like a time machine.

He stood, unsure whether to hug you or shake your hand, but you made the decision for him, pulling him into a warm embrace. “It’s been forever,” you said, pulling back to look at him. “You haven’t changed.”

Chris chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “You have – in a good way. You look… happy.”

The two of you ordered drinks and found a quiet corner. The conversation started easy – catching up on the basics, sharing stories from your lives since those trainee days. But as the initial excitement settled, the mood grew more reflective.

“Do you regret it?” Chris asked suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, but his gaze was intense, searching your expression for any flicker of doubt. “Leaving the company, I mean. Giving up on… that dream.”

You took a sip of your coffee, considering his question. “No,” you said finally, your voice steady. “I don’t regret it, Chris. After I quit I realized that I was chasing something that wasn’t really mine to chase. I think I was trying to prove something to myself, or maybe to others.”

You paused, hesitating before continuing. “I realized after I left that the dream I really wanted… it was never an option for me. Producing music, having creative control—it was never going to happen as a girl in a girl group, not in that company, not at that time. They had a mold, and I didn’t fit into it. Once I understood that, it was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. I stopped trying to be someone I wasn’t.”

Chris’ eyes softened, a flicker of something unspoken passing through them. “That… must’ve been tough to come to terms with.”

“It was,” you admitted. “I was angry for a while, at myself, at the system. But after I left, I started to see that it wasn’t the end. There’s more than one way to make a dream come true, and the path I’m on now—it feels right for me. I’m happy where I am.”

Chris nodded, processing your words. “You always seemed so sure of yourself back then. I guess I just… I admired that.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “I wasn’t as sure as you think. But thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.”

There was a moment of quiet, the café’s gentle hum filling the space between you. Then Chris tilted his head slightly, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Do you still do music? Like creating or singing?”

You smiled, the question sparking something warm in you. “Yeah, I do. It’s just a hobby now, though. I write and sing at home when I feel like it. It’s… different from before, but it brings me a lot of joy.”

“That’s great,” Chris said sincerely. “I’m glad you haven’t let it go completely. Music was always such a big part of who you are.”

You nodded, your fingers tracing the rim of your coffee cup. “It still is. But right now, I haven’t really been doing much with it. I just moved back to Seoul recently, so I’m still settling in. Once things are a bit more stable, I’d love to dive back into it.”

“You moved back?” Chris asked, his eyes lighting up. “How long ago?”

��Just a couple of months,” you said. “I wanted a change, and Seoul felt like the right place to be.” Then, after a brief pause, you added, “You know, once everything’s in order, you should come by sometime. I’ve been meaning to show someone my music setup—well, when I finally unpack it all.”

Chris’ eyes widened slightly in surprise, then softened with a warm smile. “Yeah? I’d like that. It’d be nice to hear what you’ve been working on since.”

“It’s nothing fancy – no chart-topping masterpieces” you said quickly, brushing off the compliment with a wave of your hand. “But it’s always fun to share it with someone who gets it.”

“I’d love to,” he said, his sincerity unmistakable. “Just let me know when you’re ready. No rush.”

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting golden light through the café windows, the two of you lingered, caught in a space that felt timeless. There was something comforting about reconnecting, about seeing the ways you had both changed and grown, yet still finding the same thread of understanding that had tied you together all those years ago.

pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.4 | pt.5 | masterlist

#bang chan imagines #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #bang chan scenarios #stray kids scenarios #bang chan #stray kids #skz #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #skz fluff #bang chan fluff #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids fluff

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itsnesss · 2 days ago

Note

I don't know if you take requests, but since I like your writing language very much, I would love you to write something like this. It seems like something like the reader saying she wants to get pregnant while making love after noticing Hwan Jun Ho's interest in children would be nice.

𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | intimacy (implicit/not overly graphic), emotional vulnerability, discussions of parenthood

word count | 1.5 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

Moonlight filters through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the dimly lit room. Outside, the city continues its course, indifferent, but here, within these four walls, everything feels different. There are no rushes, no worries. It’s just the two of you, trapped in a moment that seems suspended in time.

You feel the weight of his body over yours, his warmth surrounding you, the brush of his skin against yours in a slow, deliberate dance. Every touch, every kiss, every shared breath carries the weight of everything you’ve built together. It’s not just desire, not just need—it’s something deeper, something more meaningful. Something that goes beyond the fleeting passion of a single night.

Your fingers trace down his back, following the contours of his muscles with a light, almost reverent touch. You know that Junho isn’t a man who allows himself to be vulnerable easily, but here, with you, he lets all his walls down. The way he holds you, how he brushes his nose against yours before kissing you again, how he intertwines his fingers with yours as he moves above you—it tells you more than any words ever could.

And then, like a whisper among your thoughts, like a truth that has been waiting to be spoken, the words slip from your lips before you can stop them.

"I want to have a child with you."

Junho tenses slightly but doesn’t stop. His gaze meets yours in the dim light, and in his eyes, there’s more than just surprise. There’s curiosity, tenderness… something you can’t quite decipher.

"Really?" His voice is low, almost a murmur against your skin, as if he doesn’t want to break the atmosphere surrounding you.

You take a breath, feeling your chest rise against his. There’s no doubt in you. It’s something you’ve been feeling for a long time, but only now have you found the words to express it.

"Yes," you answer firmly. "I’ve thought about it a lot. I’ve seen you with children… how you look at them, how you care about them without even realizing it."

He blinks, surprised, but says nothing. You know he’s listening, that he’s processing what you’ve just said.

"When you see a child on the street, you always pause a second longer than necessary," you continue. "When we’re at the park, your attention always drifts toward them. And when you talk about your brother…"

You hesitate because you know mentioning his brother touches a sensitive part of him. But it’s part of what makes him who he is. Part of what has led you to realize what you truly want.

"I don’t know if you’ve ever thought about it," you add softly. "But if you ever wanted to… if you ever desired it, I’d want it to be with you."

Junho exhales, closing his eyes for a moment before resting his forehead against yours. His breath is warm, unsteady, and his hands tighten around your waist.

"I wasn’t expecting to hear something like that tonight," he admits with a low chuckle—not one of mockery, but of disbelief. As if he finds it hard to believe this is real.

"I didn’t plan it," you respond, smiling too. "I just… felt it."

The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable. His fingers trace slow circles on your skin, as if memorizing every detail of you. Then, without saying anything else, he kisses you. It’s a different kiss than before: deeper, more meaningful, more devoted.

And in that kiss, you find your answer.

Time seems to dissolve as you remain wrapped in each other’s warmth. Junho never stops touching you, holding you with the same delicacy one would hold something fragile, precious. Every movement of his carries a new purpose, as if your words have shifted something inside him. As if something has settled in his heart.

His face is partially hidden in the curve of your neck when he murmurs, his voice husky, "I never thought of myself as a father."

You slide your hands into his hair, running your fingers through his dark strands with tenderness.

"And now?"

He sighs, his lips brushing against your collarbone before lifting his gaze to meet yours.

"I don’t know," he admits. "But if it ever happens… I can’t imagine anyone but you."

Your heart pounds at his words. It’s not an absolute statement, not an immediate promise, but you understand. Junho isn’t someone who rushes into things. He needs time to process, to internalize. But the fact that he hasn’t rejected the idea, that he’s considering it, means more than you can express in this moment.

"That’s enough for me," you whisper.

He gives a small, lopsided smile, and with one last kiss to your forehead, he lets your bodies find that shared rhythm again, allowing the moment to envelop you completely.

Later, when sleep begins to claim you and Junho still holds you in his embrace, you break the silence once more.

"If we had a child… what name would you like to give them?"

You feel his chest shake with a low, drowsy chuckle.

"Are we already picking names?"

"I’m just curious."

He stays quiet for a moment, absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm.

"If it’s a girl… I’d like her to have a strong name. Something that makes her stand out."

"And if it’s a boy?"

Junho falls silent, and for a moment, you think he has fallen asleep. But then, his voice comes in a whisper, as if he’s testing the sound of the idea in his own mind.

"Maybe something in honor of my brother."

Your chest tightens with a mix of emotion and tenderness. You don’t push him to say more—you don’t want to force him to keep talking if he doesn’t want to. Instead, you snuggle closer against him, letting the warmth of his body envelop you.

And as sleep finally pulls you under, a soft smile graces your lips. Because even though the future is still uncertain, even though Junho needs time to process everything you talked about tonight, there is one thing you know with absolute certainty:

If that moment ever comes… he would be an incredible father.

And there’s no one else in the world you’d rather share that future with.

#squid game #squid game x reader #squid game x fem!reader #hwang jun ho #hwang jun ho x reader #hwang junho #jun ho squid game

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seitmai · 3 days ago

Text

Ahh so many thoughts

Steve Rogers left you in your hotel room, a quivering emotional, mess.

I hope hehas left as quivering, emotional mess too 🤭

A lot happened in a short amount of time that caused you to deny your feelings for him. And now you were no longer trying to keep him out.

Good for her!

He was definitely a distraction, but now you couldn’t deny your feelings for him any longer. You just needed to be a woman about it and tell him.

Yeah let's woman up 💪🏻

Steve had to stop himself from going back up to your room three times after he left.

As he should 😌🤭

He finally exited the hotel and stalked down the street back to the Rebirth building to his car and pulled out his phone, dialing Bucky and pulling out of the garage. “Remember that shopping trip we took a few weeks ago? For the ring?”

Before you thought too hard, you sent it to Steve, then jumped in bed and pulled the covers over your head with that feeling of dread and panic when you don’t know if you’ve done something supremely reckless or not.

Literally me every time I send a message that stresses me out for various reasons haha (most of the time it's just my anxiety lol)

“It absofuckinlutely was. You’re joking about it being the wrong thread, right? That is mine, correct?” You shivered at his double meaning and at his possessiveness. “Yes, Mr. Rogers.”

👀

“You can have whatever you want...” A sense of power flooded Steve’s body, both heady and intoxicating at your admission. “You should be very careful when you make that offer, Peach,” he said softly. “I trust you.”

They're jumping straight in

This man was wearing a corduroy suit and he made it look damn good. And he made you feral.

Valid 🤷🏻‍♀️

You decided to give your cousin a hard time to prevent yourself from becoming a simp. “You look like that damn heart eyes emoji, ya know.”

Hahaha ballsy coming from a woman that just almost drooled over a corduroy suit 😂

She didn’t look at you as you yanked her chain. She just continued to follow Bucky’s every move and lit up when he glanced her way. She was gone, girl.

Let them be! They are in love🥰

His smile when you made eye contact knocked the breath out of your lungs. In that moment, you realized that you were in love with Steven Grant Rogers.

Yeah and making fun of others being in love just a few minutes before 🤭

“Hush, I’m trying to get the dirt. Now Nico, tell the truth…” Steve sat back and listened to your unhinged behavior on the drive over to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. Your spirit and your laugh made him warm inside, despite the cold day.

Haha love that she interrogates Nico and Steve is just sitting there watching her like 🥰😍

“I know Nico wouldn’t crack, but I could tell from the way he went red. Those whores….” “Literal Freaks,” replied Steve. “Bunny is an appropriate nickname for him, because he and your cousin…”

Hahahha 😂

“Beautiful,” you murmured. And then you noticed that he was looking at you.

I'm swooning 🥰

“I want to capture the way your nose crinkles when you're annoyed, or how you're gripping the bench like you're about to get up and run.”

It's in the details 🤭

Steve’s eyes lit up and he reached for you, pulling you into his lap as his lips crashed into yours. His hands were everywhere. He tugged you closer as he kissed you and both hands came down to grab your ass and pull you onto his erection. His desire for you was apparent. When you broke apart, you chased his lips and then kissed him again, greedy.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

“I’ve been ready. Been yours for a while, now Peach. Since the day I saw you…” His voice was gentle and he was looking at you like you were fine porcelain. You felt so safe in his arms. He pulled back to look you in the eye.

“What if I don’t want you to behave? Like you said, you have the pavilion reserved. You can bend me over the bench and fuck me raw. Right here.” Steve’s pupils took over his eyes and his jaw clenched. Your stomach dropped as he looked as if he was about to do just as you suggested. But he took a deep breath and smiled. “We’ll explore that kink later. Our first time needs to be in private.”

Yeah let's just put a pin into it 🤭

“Your heart's beating so fast,” you whispered. “You do that to me, Peach.” “Really?” you questioned, suddenly unsure of yourself. “You have no idea how much power you have, do you?”

I'm swooning

“Oh god, Steve. I- I love you too.” Your smile blinded him. If he blinked it was because of that. Not that he was going to cry. Not at all.

Yeah, absolutely not because of any tears 🤭

Then, he pulled his underwear down, eyes on your face for your reaction. It was classic, your mouth hinged open and your eyes were like saucers. There was no way anyone could be that perfect.

🤭🤭🤭

“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else, baby.”

Is that a promise? 😉🤭

Inch after thick inch, he claimed you, stretched you, with a delicious push/pull of pleasure/pain. His length was one thing, but his girth was everything.

🥵🥵🥵

“You want me to cum inside you? You trying to have my baby?” “Unnnnnnghhhh! Maybe….”

That's not no 👀

“I would die for you, Y/N L/N,” Steve murmured against your temple, panting. He held you tight, carding his fingers in your hair. “I promise to keep you safe, and give you everything you need, I promise you that.” “I believe you, Steve. I trust that.”

Ahh finally, them are making so much progress 🥰

“Hmmmmm. I’d have to marry you before I answered that question.” Your heart slammed against your chest and your eyes went wide in the dark.

Huh? 👀

"You can’t be compelled to testify against your spouse. It was a joke, Peach.”

Yeah, a joke, right👀

“Do you… are you saying that you want to get married?” Steve thought about the ring that he had at his penthouse.

Omg

“Nah… what we looking like just up and getting married like that? We hardly know each other.” “True. But when you know, you know.” Steve kissed you and the small amount of logic in your brain was rapidly dissipating. “Would it make us look crazy…?” You could sense Steve’s smile in the dark. “…Or would it be so beautiful?” He replied.

Omg this conversation between them is everything! They so are gonna get hitched right away!! And everyone will think it's crazy, except for them because they think it's beautiful 🥰😌 and you know who else is gonna find it beautiful? A certain cousin and best friend, because this is gonna be the last push for Bucky to get down on one knee too 🤭

“If you ask me, I’m ready…” The light switched on and you were staring into the beautiful blue eyes of Steve Rogers.

I have a feeling that he is on one knee or getting dressed speeding to his penthouse to geta certain thing 🤭😍

Peach VI

Peach V | Peach VII

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is a mob boss trying to get clean. It’s definitely because he’s in love. With you. He's got you on his turf in NYC. You two FINALLY admit your feelings for one another and seal the deal. But how far are you willing to go for this love?

Pairing: Art Dealer/Artist/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: This is it! I hope the smut is up to par. When I tell you I’ve agonized about this. But thank you to all who were in my inbox and dms giving me encouragement this week. Love you bunches! ❤️

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and DIRECTLY AFTER the events in Peach V. Your interaction keeps me writing, so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Angst. Slow burn, Mutual pining, idiots in love, eye fucking, Steve Rogers is an artist, y'all!, sending (almost) nudes, phone sex, possessive Steve, references to shibari, mutual masturbation, pining, references to sex in a car, the "L" word, oral (f recieving), fingering, overstimulation, nipple play, size kink, pleasurable pain with sex, definite breeding kink, raw p in v, Lil bit of Dom Steve if you squint, references to murder. Something big may or may not happen after the last line.

Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-------

Steve Rogers left you in your hotel room, a quivering emotional, mess.

He’d made you cum, hard, but you felt that he was holding back, that if you’d told him how you felt it would have been so much better.

Or maybe that was all in your mind. Steven Grant Rogers was on your mind since you met him as Grant Stevens in Atlanta.

A lot happened in a short amount of time that caused you to deny your feelings for him. And now you were no longer trying to keep him out.

He was definitely a distraction, but now you couldn’t deny your feelings for him any longer. You just needed to be a woman about it and tell him.

What’s the worst that could happen? You weren’t going to marry the guy, you just want to explore these mutual feelings. It shouldn’t be complicated.

Right?

You still had the rest of the week in New York to stress out about it, so that was a plus. The afternoon was ahead of you and the next day was the Summitt.

After that, you had your one on one with Steve.

Bucky told you about Steve being an artist himself during your meeting with him. So, for your meeting with Steve, you requested that you see some of his artwork, and he agreed.

You were curious to see what he could create, and you were anxious and turned on at the thought of him as a creator.

You were so into Steve Rogers.

And you didn’t know what you were going to do about that.

—--

Steve had to stop himself from going back up to your room three times after he left. He finally exited the hotel and stalked down the street back to the Rebirth building to his car and pulled out his phone, dialing Bucky and pulling out of the garage.

He needed a drive and a little alone time to clear his head and come down from you, but he also needed his friend’s help.

“Wassssaaaap! Did you get the–”

Steve cut Bucky off.

“Remember that shopping trip we took a few weeks ago? For the ring?”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah. Meet me on 47th street.”

—-

That afternoon, you just kept your distance from Sharon and ignored her, focusing on the task at hand and all business. You didn’t want to waste energy on her.

Your energy was spent on thinking about Steve and wondering if he was thinking of you too. You wanted to text him, but you were chilling. You didn’t want to seem to eager.

You were successful in your self control until 11 pm as you tossed and turned in your hotel king bed. Doubts, but mostly need and desire, coursed through you.

You were going to find out exactly what Steve was doing right now and who he might be with. You shook your head at how much you cared; it was definitely not something you regularly did. You were used to feening for someone.

You were choosing violence as you posed on the bed in front of the mirror. You sat on the bed, crossed your legs and snapped a picture.

You weren’t naked, but your panties were skin tone and your sleep bra was sheer and you were feeling needy.

—

Steve was ready for the Summit, but he couldn’t stop thinking of you. Sleep was elusive, so he was self medicating, sketching your body from memory of mostly touch.

His phone vibrated and he almost didn’t pick it up, but when he saw your name, his heart sped up.

He clicked through to your message and his heart started hammering in his chest.

Sorry, wrong thread.

The picture you sent along threatened to give him a heart attack. He zoomed in a couple of times and then read the message again. What the fuck?

——-

In less than a minute your phone was ringing. You picked up immediately.

“Don’t fucking play with me, Peach.”

Steve’s growl got you wet, but you instantly regretted your horny decisions.

“It was a mistake.”

“It absofuckinlutely was. You’re joking about it being the wrong thread, right? That is mine, correct?”

You shivered at his double meaning and at his possessiveness.

“Yes, Mr. Rogers.”

Your voice was needy and that awakened a hunger in Steve. He was beyond frustrated that he wasn’t there to spank your ass raw, but he remained quiet.

You sensed his mood.

“If I were there, I’d make it up to you…”

You were testing the waters, experimenting to see if he would give you what you wanted despite his annoyance.

If he would give you what you needed.

“What would you do?”

Steve’s baritone was silk in your ear.

“What?”

You suddenly found that you couldn’t breathe.

“What would you do if you were here?”

“I’d kiss you,” you rushed out in a whisper.

Steve paused, letting your sentence hang in the air.

“And?”

There was an edge to the question.

“And… My lips. All over you.”

Fuck, he was hard. Just a few words in your husky voice, and Steve delirious, imagining his hands in your hair as you kissed him.

“Where?” he asked mercilessly, his voice broken with lust.

“Everywhere…your face, your neck, your nipples, your abs. Your cock.”

You were definitely not a virgin, but you were blushing through the phone although your hand was rubbing the skin at the edge of your underwear.

“Want you in my throat.”

Steve had to concentrate to stay hard.

“Oh? What if I want more than that?”

“You can have whatever you want...”

A sense of power flooded Steve’s body, both heady and intoxicating at your admission.

“You should be very careful when you make that offer, Peach,” he said softly.

“I trust you.”

Holy fuck. Why did that mean everything to him? He cleared his throat.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered.

“Okay.”

You complied so readily, it made Steve even harder.

Your clit was so hard as you circled it.

“Are you wet, Sweetheart?”

You moaned and Steve reached into his sweats and curled his fingers around his aching cock.

“My pussy is so messy for you, Mr. Rogers,” you whispered, thrilled and afraid of how much you wanted him.

Steve rolled his eyes as his cocked jerked for you.

“Such a good little slut.”

“Fuck…”

You realized the breath you’d been holding as you listened for his voice.

“Your pussy is so beautiful Peach. And god, you taste so good. Just like a sweet peach.”

Steve knew he had you in the palm of his hand. But fuck, you had him in yours too.

“But your cunt is so tiny. I’m gonna needs to get you ready for me, Baby.”

“Is it going to hurt me?” you whined.

Steve was about to explode at your little innocent voice asking the most nasty question.

“Yes, Peach. It is,” he growled as your anticipation reached 100.

Your breath sped up and so did your fingers. Steve grunted, his fist moving faster, thumb swiping the copious dribbles of precum dripping from his slit.

He should have known it was over as soon as he opened your message.

Hot sex was happening.

Electronically.

As the coil in your belly wind tighter, you realized with both joy and dismay that you were addicted.

“Steve, “m so close…”

“Of course you are.”

Steve soaked up your cute little sex sounds, thirsty for more.

“You know what I’m thinking about, Doll?”

A shaky breath was your only response. Steve continued.

“I think I want to tie you up. Silk ropes all over you, pretty little knots. I’d tie your arms behind your back, so those tits would sit up pretty for me to slap, lick and suck. That ass would be tied up so sweet and open so I could eat it.”

Your eyes rolled at the sensations his words and your fingers were sending to your clit.

“I’d fuck your throat and cum all over that soft, sweet body. Over and over, while I tease your greedy little cunt. I want to see it drip down your delicious nipples, your belly, your hungry pussy, your pretty face. I need to see all of you covered in my cum. Everywhere, marking you as mine…Mine.”

You gasped, and then moaned and your entire body tightened up then released.

Your mouth hinged open as you came.

“Mine,” Steve hissed, tightening the knots around you both and jerking his cock until cum spurted out. He listened to your breathing and knew that you’d just cum as well.

Suddenly, he missed you.

“You good, Peach?”

You hesitated.You heard the yearning in his voice and you wanted to be in his arms, but you lied to him anyway.

“Yeah.”

Steve smiled at you. He shook his head even though you couldn’t see.

“Sweet dreams. See you tomorrow.”

“Night Steve.”

—---

You needed a distraction.

Steve looked so delicious this morning, sitting on stage and serving art intellectual in a dark turtleneck and brown corduroy suit. A suit that was tailored to the detriment of everyone who looked at him.

Holy shit.

This man was wearing a corduroy suit and he made it look damn good.

And he made you feral.

You decided to give your cousin a hard time to prevent yourself from becoming a simp.

“You look like that damn heart eyes emoji, ya know.”

She didn’t look at you as you yanked her chain. She just continued to follow Bucky’s every move and lit up when he glanced her way. She was gone, girl.

You teased her some more until you saw Steve. You sighed and gazed at him, straightening your spine as you remembered how he made you cum twice yesterday. And he’d hardly touched you.

As if sensing your gaze, Steve’s head turned. Those mesmerizing blue eyes locked with yours, and the rest of the world disappeared in an instant. For a moment, you were frozen. Pinned in your seat by his magnetism.

This feeling was so heady.

When you realized you’d been caught staring Steve down, you tried to change the unspoken subject.

“Bucky is pretty much the man.”

“Fucking-A.”

Her chuckle was all-knowing. Then she read you.

“Steve is the shit too.”

You couldn’t front anymore.

“He’s amazing. I had no idea about everything that he does. Have to say, I’m impressed.”

She was speechless and so were you. You both continued enjoying the forum when your phone buzzed.

You look beautiful today. You’re my favorite thing to study. Can’t wait for today’s art experience. Meet me at the Laguardia Place entrance immediately after the talk. Sunlight is precious.

You were his favorite thing to study!

You waited on the edge of your seat until the end of the summit. Then you were up and walking out toward the entrance post haste.

The hair on the back of your neck raised when you saw Steve watching you from the door of Rosenthal Pavilion.

His smile when you made eye contact knocked the breath out of your lungs.

In that moment, you realized that you were in love with Steven Grant Rogers.

Holy hell.

His deep voice greeted you as you arrived.

“I’m anxious to get started.”

Steve searched your face and found a different look from the partially closed off expression you’d showed him since Thanksgiving.

Your face was open and trusting. His heart did a funny thing in his chest. It was almost too good to be true.

Could you love him, too?

He tempered his mood with sensible words, filling the space that he wanted to fill with romantic declarations.

“I’m going to take you to my favorite artistic landmark in the city. I’ve loved it since I was a boy.”

You smiled up at him and took his hand.

“Let’s not waste any more time.”

—--

The driver that was taking you and Steve to your meeting place was the same one who picked you up from the airport. The one that your cousin knew so well.

You stared at the back of his head and then glanced over at Steve. He raised his eyebrow at you because of the look on your face. You grinned back, then leaned forward to tap the driver on the shoulder.

“So… Nico…”

Your eyes cut over to Steve with a mischievous look. His heart beat out of his chest at the joy you were serving him along with your chaos.

“You ever drive my cousin and Bucky around the city?”

Nico stole a look at you and smiled.

“Yes ma’am. All the time.”

“Do they ever do the nasty back here…?”

Nico laughed heartily as Steve shook his head.

“Peach…”

You shushed Steve.

“Hush, I’m trying to get the dirt. Now Nico, tell the truth…”

Steve sat back and listened to your unhinged behavior on the drive over to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. Your spirit and your laugh made him warm inside, despite the cold day.

—-

Nico stopped the car at the Washington Avenue entrance to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Steve got out, shouldered his backpack, and then reached for your gloved hand with his own.

For some reason, you felt like a princess as you stepped on the path. The air was crisp, and there were traces of snow lingering on the ground.

You came out of the car chattering and laughing, making Steve’s heart light.

“I know Nico wouldn’t crack, but I could tell from the way he went red. Those whores….”

“Literal Freaks,” replied Steve. “Bunny is an appropriate nickname for him, because he and your cousin…”

Steve shook his head and rolled his eyes, although he fantasized about christening the backseat of the Lincoln for you and him.

The wrought-iron gate creaked softly behind you as you entered the Garden, and you looked around in wonder as the gravel path crunched beneath your boots. A magnificent metal and glass structure was in front of you.

“This is the Steinhardt Conservatory. Wait until you see the inside.”

Steve smiled and took your hand as you stepped through the glass doors into sudden warmth shaking your head at him.

There was a heavy scent of flowers and a haze of the waning rays of sunlight beaming through the glass panels overhead. It gave everything golden highlights, including you and Steve.

You squeezed his hand as you looked around in awe.

“Beautiful,” you murmured.

And then you noticed that he was looking at you.

“Yes…”

You grew warm as you looked into his gorgeous blue eyes.

“It’s like a completely different world in here.”

“It’s our world for the moment. Just you and me.”

He wanted to add the word Forever, but he didn’t. You felt it though.

You started on an indoor path and Steve pointed out the unique flowers and plants in his warm baritone. You were impressed, again, with how much he knew.

Steve Rogers was not a stereotypical mobster. This was a man who followed a path in life that landed him where he didn’t want to be and was trying to make up for it.

As he spoke, Steve drew you into his enthusiasm, and you found yourself smiling and relaxing, asking questions and marveling at the vast indoor space.

When you came to a small alcove furnished with a wooden bench and beneath a sprawling magnolia tree, Steve stopped and took his backpack off his shoulder, and then taking off his coat and draping it over the bench as you did the same.

"Please, sit."

His voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the subtle command.

You hesitated.

"Why?"

"So I can sketch you."

Your stomach did an odd little flip.

"Here? Now? I wanted to see your sketches, not be your sketches."

You performed on stage in front of hundreds with barely no clothes on and you were so nervous to let Steve Rogers sketch you with winter layers of clothes on. What was wrong with you?

Steve raised his eyebrow and his gaze swept up your body slowly, making you shiver. Clothes couldn’t stop the intimate of that look.

“Too late for that.”

You raised your eyebrow at him and you felt irrationally happy. Steve had drawn you.

“Do you not trust me?”

You regarded him, guardian your reaction because you didn’t want to seem too eager.

“I do Steve. I trust you.”

It was true.

Steve smiled.

“Then please, sit down.”

You gave in with a sigh and lowered yourself onto the bench.

"Fine," you muttered. "But no weird artistic liberties. I better have a nose."

Steve chuckled, flipping open the sketchbook.

"I make no promises."

You watched as he proceeded to balance the sketchbook against his bended knee. Then he looked at you seriously, holding your gaze for a moment before his attention returned to the page, and his pencil began gliding effortlessly across the paper.

His thick fingers were surprisingly agile, moving with long, sure strokes. But then again, you shouldn’t have been surprised, with the way his fingers had previously made you feel…

For a few moments, the only sound was the soft scratch of his pencil against paper.

You attempted to sit still, staring at the plants around you. You also tried to pretend that you weren’t aware of the way he studied you with that relentless focus, switching his gaze between you and the sketchbook.

After a few minutes, Steve made a soft noise, something between a hum and a chuckle.

“What?” you asked, turning your head and narrowing your eyes at him.

“Nothing.”

He didn’t look up. But he spoke.

“It’s just... you’re trying so hard not to move, but you’re fidgeting anyway.”

You caught the hint of humor in his tone and it made you a little too happy again, so you decided to cause problems.

"Well, maybe if you didn’t look at me like that.”

"Like what?"

His lips curled into a knowing smirk, looking up at you quickly, then back down.

You fidgeted again.

"You know…"

Steve chuckled, deep and low and shook his head.

"Oh. Am I ‘sparkling my eyes at you again?’”

You scowled at him and he laughed.

“I'm an artist, Peach. I study form."

His eyes traced up and down your body, lighting you on fire again.

You clenched your thighs together to fight the flow of arousal threatening your thighs. This was dangerous. Steve was dangerous.

"You're insufferable, Steven."

“Well, can you suffer on a little longer, so I can capture more detail?”

You cocked your head in that adorable way.

“What details do you need?”

“I need…”

Steve looked at you like he needed all of you.

And he did.

“I want to capture the way your nose crinkles when you're annoyed, or how you're gripping the bench like you're about to get up and run.”

You unclenched your hands and sat back.

“You’re making me nervous.”

He tapped his pencil against the sketchbook. Then he looked down again to continue drawing.

"Interesting."

"What is?"

He licked those red lips of his and your eyes tracked the movement.

"The fact that I make you nervous."

The way he was looking at you made butterflies riot in your stomach. That special electricity was buzzing around you both.

Suddenly, his pencil stopped. Then, without warning, he reached out, brushing his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your face slightly.

You stiffened.

"Hold still," he murmured.

His thumb ghosted over the curve of your jaw and settled at the edge of your throat.

Your breath hitched.

Steve’s eyes were dark now and his voice was softer when he spoke again, but there was an edge to it now, hinting at something rough beneath the surface.

“You always do this?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“React like this when someone touches you.”

You pursed your lips together and shook your head.

Just you.

"You’re doing it again," he mused as he stroked the side of your throat with his thumb.

"What, Mr. Rogers?"

You were about to combust. He clenched his jaw and increased the pressure of his fingers on your neck.

"Fighting it."

"I- I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"You do," he intoned, his voice stern.

"Don’t hide from me, Peach."

Your pulse beat beneath his fingertips.

"You think I don’t notice how you react to me?"

Steve’s hand grasped your throat, pressing more firmly before he let go.

"Hold. Still," he murmured, those blue, blue eyes stormy.

His fingers tilted your face up with authority now. You froze for a moment as his thumb came up to pull your chin down to open your mouth.

“Breathe.”

He slowly pulled his hand away and you had to stop yourself from chasing his touch.

Steve clenched his jaw, trying to restrain himself. If he had to guess, you were wet and ready for him to do whatever he wanted to you right now. But he willed himself to be patient.

He picked up his pencil again, rolling it between his fingers, like nothing had happened.

"Good girl," he offered to the page as he returned to his sketch.

Steve knew what he was doing. Knew exactly how much he affected you. You waited impatiently, clenching your thighs together desperately as his pencil continued to scratch on the paper.

"Done," he said, as he lifted the sketchbook toward you.

You gasped as you looked at the page.

The drawing was stunning. Steve had captured you with uncanny accuracy, from the curve of your parted lips to the shading of the different colors in your eyes. The hollow of your throat seemed to pulse, and you could almost see the indentations of his fingers.

The portrait was beautiful. And it told you everything you needed to know about how he felt.

“This is… how can I thank you?”

Steve’s heart flipped in his chest as he reached out and grabbed your waist, pulling you toward him on the bench.

"Steve…"

His eyes went to your mouth.

"Say that again," he murmured, barely above a whisper.

Your whole body was burning, but you stayed quiet. You were paralyzed with the possibilities.

"No? Too shy now?"

His voice made you impossibly wet. If you gave in, you were about to get everything you didn’t know that you wanted. And that scared you.

You let out a shaky breath.

"Steve."

Something flickered behind his eyes. Something hot.

“Have I told you that I love the way you say my name?”

His hand came up again against your side, slowly, more deliberate. His fingers moved over the curve of your side, and slid against your breast, his thumb ghosting over your nipple.

He continued, tracing over your cleavage and finally landing against your throat again, pressing against your pulse and driving you crazy.

"You're shaking," he murmured, voice low, thick with need.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and gave you a kiss against your throat. And he lingered, lips warm against your skin, before pulling back just enough to smile against your skin.

Your whimper told him so much.

"You act so tough, but you’re so easy to ruin."

You raised your arms and pulled him close, fingers playing at the nape clutching the hair spilling over his collar.

“You made me this way, Steve. And I don’t want you to stop.”

His now dark blue eyes searched yours as his fingers tightened on your waist.

“What does that mean, Peach?”

He’d pulled you closer, his eyes on your face as he waited for your answer. The anticipation was so much. He huffed and then dove into the curve of your neck, inhaling and tasting you there, as if he couldn’t help himself. His large hands palmed your breasts, pressing your nipples insistently.

“Oh…my….Steve!”

You squirmed in his grip.

“I asked you a question. Do I need to stop touching you so you can answer?”

“Please, no, Steve. Need you...”

You were the queen of changing the subject.

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

His lips were on the curve of your jaw, so close to your lips. You whined. He cocked his eyebrow, the question not so silent.

You huffed, making your decision to go for it as your hands came to the side of his face so that he knew your intentionality. You wanted to look into his eyes when you said it.

“Moment of honesty? I want you Steve. I feel…I want to be yours. Really been yours since you put your hands on me in Atalanta. I can’t categorize or control this feeling. So I’m giving in. Are you ready for the chaos that is me being yours?”

When you broke apart, you chased his lips and then kissed him again, greedy.

“I’ve been ready. Been yours for a while, now Peach. Since the day I saw you…”

His voice was gentle and he was looking at you like you were fine porcelain. You felt so safe in his arms. He pulled back to look you in the eye.

“And this feeling? This is exactly how it should feel when it's meant to be.”

He kissed you again and his mouth took possession of yours in a way that was tender, yet full of promise.

“I gotta let you know that if you’re mine, I’m gonna give you what you need. When you need it. Do you want that? Do you trust me with that?”

This was the important question.

“Yes, please. I want that, Mr. Rogers, sir. And I trust you.”

"That’s so fucking hot… but I’m trying to behave. Even though I reserved the pavilion just for us, we’re still in a public place,” he murmured.

His voice was calm, controlled. But those sea blue eyes told a different story.

"You call this behaving?"

You rolled your hips against his cock. Steve kissed you again and let out a sexy chuckle, then stood you both up, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"If I wasn’t," he murmured, "you’d already be begging me for more."

You linked your arms around his neck and looked up at him as the cutest woman on earth.

“What if I don’t want you to behave? Like you said, you have the pavilion reserved. You can bend me over the bench and fuck me raw. Right here.”

Steve’s pupils took over his eyes and his jaw clenched. Your stomach dropped as he looked as if he was about to do just as you suggested. But he took a deep breath and smiled.

“We’ll explore that kink later. Our first time needs to be in private.”

Steve reached for your coat and helped you with it before putting his own on and gathering his things. He took your hand and led you out and across the grounds. He pointed to a familiar building.

“Your hotel is right there. Or do you want me to call Nico to take us to my place?”

You looked up at Steve as your breath vaporized in the cold air.

“We need my hotel. I’m ready. Right now.”

—--

You were in your room again, not entirely sure how you arrived, the journey through the park hurried and full of anticipation. You weren’t thinking too hard, you just knew you needed Steve. Immediately.

You were pushing his coat and blazer off his body and feeling his chest. The steady thrum of his pulse tapped a staccato in your palm.

“Your heart's beating so fast,” you whispered.

“You do that to me, Peach.”

“Really?” you questioned, suddenly unsure of yourself.

“You have no idea how much power you have, do you?”

“Me?” you asked in a small voice.

Steve nodded.

“You drive me crazy. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

It was confession time.

“It’s you that has the power, Steve. I can't stop thinking about you. Your voice gets me there.”

You felt tongue tied as you told him your raw feelings, all the while taking off your and his clothes.

“Sometimes I — I think I'm going to cum just from hearing you speak. Today, at NYU, I could hardly sit still. You're like a drug, pulling all my attention.”

Steve’s shirt was off now and you were in your bra and he pulled you near him to get his mouth on your tits.

“When I'm near you, I'm so hard it aches.”

“Really?” you whispered. “Are you aching right now?”

Steve groaned as you pulled back to unzip your skirt and take off your boots. He leaned back against the wall and palmed his crotch over his pants.

“Like you wouldn't believe.”

Steve couldn’t believe that he had you here like this, giving yourself to him. He had to tell you the truth.

“Look at me, Peach.”

You looked into his eyes.

“I’m In love with you.”

His rough voice pulled an involuntary sound from you.

“You're mine, Peach You always have been.

Your breath caught in your throat and your heart thudded against yor ribs.

“Oh god, Steve. I- I love you too.”

Your smile blinded him. If he blinked it was because of that. Not that he was going to cry.

Not at all.

He laughed as an expression of joy and then your lips met.

The kiss wasn't soft or sweet. This was feral, sharp, and intense. You moaned into his mouth, sucking his bottom lip into yours as he unhooked your bra.

“I fucking want you,” you whimpered into his mouth.

Steve smiled against your lips.

“Good, cause I fucking need you, my sweet Peach.”

Steve stood, looming over you, all big and fucking magnificent. The vision of him, all lithe muscles covered in smooth skin, and light feathering of hair making its way down his torso, between the defined planes of his abs and into his waistband, was… Good Lord.

You licked your lips, mouth instantly dry.

Steve’s mouth hooked up on one side as his fingers worked his belt and fly. His pants fell in a matter of seconds, and there he was, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs.

Steve was all thick thighs, and long, powerful legs, his hand slowly stroking himself over the sizable bulge in his underwear.

You gaped at him.

Then, he pulled his underwear down, eyes on your face for your reaction. It was classic, your mouth hinged open and your eyes were like saucers. There was no way anyone could be that perfect.

His dick was long and wide, at least eight or nine inches, and curved eloquently (if a dick could do that) against his abs. It was so pretty and your mouth watered for it at the same time your pussy clenched, as you were thinking he was correct. You would struggle to take him.

His smirked deepened as he reached for you and pulled your panties down slowly, his short fingernails scratching your legs and making you shiver.

For a moment he just stared, drinking in the sight of you spread before him

“Fucking sublime,” Steve breathed, the words filled with reverence.

“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else, baby.”

He leaned over you and set about doing just that, kissing you deep and filthy, tongue diving to claim every inch of your mouth. You cried out, scratching at his broad shoulders as he suckled and nipped, worshiping your breasts until you were mindless with sensation.

Steve took his time tracing your torso with his lips, teeth and tongue, learning your body and paying attention to every sigh of pleasure as he climbed down your body.

The press of his mouth to your pussy made your back arch, and a ragged moan escape your mouth. Steve growled into you, the vibrations running through your soaked cunt.

He parted your pussy lips with his thumbs, and dove to lick your clit with the hot velvet of his tongue.

Slow, thorough licks made you writhe beneath him.

“That’s it,” he whispered, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Ride my face, Sweetheart. Fuck my mouth ‘til you cum all over it.”

You arched like a bow as he latched on to your clit and sucked, two thick fingers thrusting deep to stroke along your inner wall. His practiced fingers found your g-spot and massaged it ruthlessly, curling and scissoring until you sobbed his name.

“Love when you call my name, Peach.”

He looked at you like you were something to be worshipped, and then continued what he was doing. When Steve bit down gently on your clit, your orgasm crashed over you in a burst of white light.

You shuddered through the aftershocks, trembling as Steve lapped at your folds. Each lick sent a jolt of electricity through you, on the edge of too much.

Rising to his knees, the thick, heavy length of him rose up again, even more swollen and glistening at the tip.

Steve notched the thick head of his cock at your entrance and his eyes crossed as he slowly sank into your tight, dripping heat.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

Inch after thick inch, he claimed you, stretched you, with a delicious push/pull of pleasure/pain. His length was one thing, but his girth was everything.

When he bottomed out, you both groaned at the intensity of the connection. He looked you in our eyes as your hearts pounded in sync, your breaths mingling as you got used to his size.

“I’ve never felt so full, Stevie…”

You quivered in his arms. And he knew that he was utterly possessed by you. It was more than just physical; it was an overwhelming sense of rightness.

“Perfect,” Steve rasped.

“So fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart. Like you were made for me.”

He dropped his head and trailed open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, pausing to suck hard at your pulse point.

“Please,” you whimpered, the ache between your thighs growing unbearable. “Move.”

“As you wish.” he whispered, brows knitted together.

You whimpered and your hands grasped the sheets as he started to move. He bent and sucked your nipple hard, causing a jolt of electricity through your body. Your brain was cloudy and your scratched his back as your eyes shuttered closed.

“Open your eyes, Peach,” Steve ordered darkly.

As he looked you in your beautiful eyes, Steve couldn’t hold back any longer. He started increasing his pace until he was fucking you roughly, pushing your knees to your chest.

“Yes.. feels so good Steve. Oh my godddddd, fuck me!”

Steve’s eyes roamed your body as he did as you asked. Your beautiful breasts bounced. The bed knocked against the wall and you gasped for breath, your face transfixed on the eye contact between you and Steve.

He was lost, one hand gripped your hair, and the other braced on the headboard. He fucked you hard, grinding against your clit with every stroke.

You were whimpering, on the verge of screaming as you two made noise up and down the hotel hallway.

He leaned up and grasped your throat, gritting his teeth as he asked a question.

“You want me to cum inside you? You trying to have my baby?”

“Unnnnnnghhhh! Maybe….”

You opened your eyes and pouted up at him.

“Paint my walls, Steve...”

Steve choked on air as he spurted hot cum into your welcoming pussy, but he pulled out, shooting the last jet of cum on your clit and pussy lips. Then, like a heathen, he bent between your thighs and started licking.

You sobbed, writhing as he devoured you.

“Need to eat you more than anything, my sweet, sweet Peach.

“Steve, Stevie… oh my god!”

You clutched his hair, tugging sharply. It was too much.

“Oh my God. Please Steveeeee!”

He raised his head, grinning as you fully collapsed, limp and spent. Your pussy was tender, your face flushed, your eyes gleaming.

You were eautiful.

You looked at him and shook your head as he took you in his arms.

“Are you mine?”

“Yes,” you whimpered out.

“I would die for you, Y/N L/N,” Steve murmured against your temple, panting. He held you tight, carding his fingers in your hair.

“I promise to keep you safe, and give you everything you need, I promise you that.”

“I believe you, Steve. I trust that.”

—

You and Steve stayed up late, ordered room service and talked about a lot of things, music, your parents, his friendship with Bucky, Nat, and Steve, everything.

You laughed and cried, and then settled back in his arms in the dark to sleep, his hand rubbing your hip as his breathing began to slow.

“Steve, can I ask you a question?”

It had been nagging at you for a while.

His sleepy voice answered you.

“Shoot.”

You chuckled.

“That’s just it. Have you ever… have you ever killed someone?”

Steve stirred, pulling you closer to him and moving his mouth next to your ear.

“Hmmmmm. I’d have to marry you before I answered that question.”

Your heart slammed against your chest and your eyes went wide in the dark.

“What?”

You tried to keep your voice even. You didn’t know what this feeling was that came over you. Steve continued, seemingly calm and not spiraling like you were.

“You can’t be compelled to testify against your spouse. It was a joke, Peach.”

You were silent for a good while.

“Oh.”

Steve stirred, leaning up against his elbow.

“Do you… are you saying that you want to get married?”

Steve thought about the ring that he had at his penthouse.

You laughed.

“Nah… what we looking like just up and getting married like that? We hardly know each other.”

“True. But when you know, you know.”

Steve kissed you and the small amount of logic in your brain was rapidly dissipating.

“Would it make us look crazy…?”

You could sense Steve’s smile in the dark.

“…Or would it be so beautiful?” He replied.

Steve wrapped you up in his arms and settled down again. Your mind spun as his breathing slowed to a steady rhythm and you spoke again.

He was probably asleep, but you had to get it out.

“If you ask me, I’m ready…”

The light switched on and you were staring into the beautiful blue eyes of Steve Rogers.

——

I’m so anxious about this one! Please let me know how you feel? Reblog, comment, like. TIA!

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apoloadonisandnarcissus · 19 hours ago

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Almost Every Popular View of “Nosferatu” (2024) is Wrong

And the film itself says so.

When I say almost everyone is completely misunderstanding “Nosferatu” (2024) is not an understatement. And this film has barely left the theaters and I’m already manifesting the “renaissance “Jennifer’s Body” style era” when everyone will be apologizing to Robert Eggers for butchering the entire meaning behind his passion project. Will it take ten years, too?

You need to understand that Robert Eggers has no interest in doing “modern takes” on his work in the sense everything that happening in the story (dialogue; behavior; way of thinking) is from the time period POV: "I never think of things in a contemporary context," director Robert Eggers says […] "I try to stay in the worldview of the characters.”

Second, you need to leave your confirmation bias at the door because Robert Eggers is subverting this entire story: “My influences are all very clear, and Nosferatu is a remake, after all,” Eggers says, yet he plays with the canon, with expectations and clichés – “hopefully subverting them to do something unexpected.”

“Orlok targeted Ellen” = Incorrect

He was dead and rotting since the late 16th century, until she resurrected him and cursed him to be a strigoi (Romanian folklore) with her summoning prayer, in the prologue. This is confirmed twice by her to Von Franz and to Thomas; and twice by Orlok himself, right at the prologue, and in the first time they are meeting face to face at the Harding household, as he calls her “his affliction” (as in “disease”; “plague”).

“Child abuse” = Incorrect

Ellen was 15 years old at the prologue (confirmed by Robin Carolan). She says she was “an innocent child” because (1) she’s accusing Orlok of corrupting her innocence; (2) the concept of “teenager” or “adolescence” didn’t exist (was only created after World War II); people went from “childhood” into “adulthood” with nothing in between. And there was no "astral sex" going on between them (but more on that later).

There was no “child abuse” between Ellen and her father, either. I’ve seen this getting thrown around and I was kind of shocked. What she tells Von Franz is that her father, as she was growing older, wouldn’t allow her to play in the fields and at the forest anymore (“Father… he would find me in our fields… within the forest… as if – I was his little changeling girl. But as I became older it worsened… Father dispraised me for it…”). Because that’s not suitable for a Victorian young lady; she needed to prepare to be a wife to respectable husband (marriage and motherhood as a woman’s destiny). She also says “her touch” started to “frighten” her father, which means he wouldn’t give her physical affection anymore (which is the total opposite to whatever this interpretation is).

Ellen's father called her “his little changeling girl” as in European folklore of children kidnapped by fairies, elves or demons and a substitute child being left in their place, because she enjoyed playing and being in nature. When she was supposed to be indoors (domestic sphere).

“Orlok r*ped Ellen for years” = Incorrect

He was just there as a shadow, a haunting, a ghost (like when he appears on her curtains). Still creepy, but he never touched her, and the narrative proves that this is all he was to her.

At the prologue, Ellen is actually masturbating. Because when Orlok does touch her (when he reveals himself), she has a seizure. Which indicates he wasn’t touching nor doing anything to her before that.

While on his way to Wisburg, Orlok says to Ellen: “Soon I will be no more a shadow to you. Your spirit was never enough. Soon our flesh shall embrace and we shall be as one”; which, again, indicates he never had sex with her (“and we shall be as one” = finally; at last). He has only been a shadow (haunting) to her, until now; they have not yet been as “one” (sex).

When they meet "in the flesh" for the first time, Ellen tells Orlok (in a very sexual tone) she felt him like a serpent in her body, he says it’s not him, but her nature (her sexuality); this implies Orlok never touched her in that way. She also talks about “felt you” and she appears to have never seen his physical appearance before (while strigoi can haunt dreams, we can cut that option, too).

As their covenant is fulfilled, and before he drinks from her (and she gives him her soul), Orlok says: “as our spirits are one, so too shall be our flesh”, which indicates, again, he never had sex with her before. Which also explains why he is hyperventilating before actually having sex with her at the end; and he stands there, waiting for her consent.

Last but not least, Orlok is a strigoi from Romanian folklore (not an incubus, two completely different creature). Orlok can astral project himself as a shadow or a ghost (at the prologue he was a vision/dream); but he has to be physically present in order to do physical things. And his whole ordeal with Thomas and him coming to Wisburg prove this. He made Herr Knock drag Thomas all the way to Transylvania just to divorce him from Ellen, and then he had to travel all the way to Wisburg, himself, to complete their covenant. The entire story proves it’s impossible for Orlok to do physical things from afar.

What Ellen has been doing during her teenage years (when she believes that Orlok "took her as his lover"), was, in fact, masturbation: a huge taboo in Victorian society, and the ultimate sin, as Ellen’s father calls it when he finds her naked, and yes, masturbating.

Orlok was there was a presence, a haunting, a shadow (either watching or talking with her), as that's how Robert Eggers describes him. Either way, Ellen was fantasizing about him. She tells Thomas “you could never please me as he could” because the purpose of masturbation is orgasm (which is what she associates Orlok with; “epilepsies”) and vaginal orgasms by penetration (alone) can be difficult for most women to achieve.

When Orlok asks her “Remember how once we were? A moment. Remember?” is connected to the reincarnation theme in this story.

“The lilacs represent Ellen innocence” = Incorrect

The lilacs are the visual storytelling device to showcase Ellen and Orlok’s relationship, including the reincarnation theme.

“Orlok r*pes Ellen repeatedly” = Incorrect

We already established he can’t touch her in that way, without her almost dying (like we saw at the prologue), and we never saw anything like this again in the entire film.

Look at Orlok’s body position: he literally just got here to grab Ellen’s neck (almost suffocating her in the process). This scene establishes he can’t touch her without something like this happening.

And this is why we are shown Herr Knock Solomonari Sex Magick ritual (masturbation). This man assembles an entire ritual room just to communicate with Orlok, and he starts by masturbating, which gives the audience two crucial bits of information: (1) it’s sexual energy that summons Orlok; (2) Orlok has to be conjured (invited) for these communications to happen.

And teenage Ellen, similar to Knock, would masturbate and summon Orlok; which is why she believes he actually took her as his lover, even thought he didn’t touch her, because, if he did, it would almost kill her (which is why she says “it would kill me” and she means it literally because Orlok, being a strigoi, his very presence is life-threatening).

Which tells us, all the moaning and body spams are on Ellen herself. She knows Orlok is coming to Wisburg, and she’s summoning him to her. This her yearning for him. He haunts her because she wants him to haunt her; Orlok has to be summoned and invited in, in every way, and the film clearly establishes this. And this is why when she's having sex with Thomas she starts saying "let him see! let him see our love!"; she's also conjuring Orlok in that moment.

This is all on Ellen. That first screenshot is also her giving in entrance into the city, by sea.

“Orlok cannot love Ellen” = Partially True

He cannot love her wholly in his present state as strigoi because this curse removed his best human qualities. He did retain his most fierce and strongest desires into his strigoi self; Ellen’s soul and passion. Which indicates he did love her fiercely and deeply in their last life (or lives). He will be capable of love her once the curse is removed (which is what happens at the end).

I argue it’s “partially true” because Bill Skarsgård managed to convince Robert Eggers to let Orlok have vulnerability in his scenes with Ellen, in connection to Orlok’s backstory (Eggers doesn’t want to share with the public). So there’s still a spark there, and she’s his only humanizing trait.

“Ellen sacrifices herself to save Thomas and Wisburg” = Incorrect

Thomas wasn’t in danger because Orlok wasn’t invited into his house. The moment he left the Harding household (where Orlok was given entrance, thanks to Ellen herself), and arrived at his own house, he was safe, and Orlok couldn’t harm him, in any way, shape or form.

Orlok, like your regular vampire, has to be invited in, and this is established by the film:

At the prologue, Orlok shows up at Ellen’s window: asking for entrance;

The Nuns tell Thomas “remain here. His evil cannot enter this house of God” (it has nothing to do with God, but with Orlok not be giving entrance);

Ellen opens a window at Hardings household for Orlok to enter (she also gives him entrance into the city);

Thomas tells Ellen at the carriage scene (when she asks to go with them): “Of course not, Ellen. You must be kept safe away”. And he leaves for the night believing she’s safe because Orlok doesn’t have entrance into their house;

After finding Harding dead, Dr. Sievers says to Von Franz and Thomas: “But Orlok... Will he not have already risen? Should we not return to our homes?” (where he can’t enter and they are safe)

Ellen opens the window of her own house at the end, asking Orlok to come to her and giving him entrance.

And besides Von Franz never tells Ellen about the instructions on the Solomonari codex of secrets. But her sacrifice is still connected to them because these instructions are confirmed to have been successfully fulfilled by Von Franz himself, at the end.

“Ellen is coerced into succumbing to Orlok” = Incorrect

I’ll let Orlok himself answer this: “the compact commands she must willingly re-pledge her vow. She cannot be stolen.” And “willing” and “compelled” are two completely different things, and Orlok knows this. He gives Ellen the three nights countdown because he wants her to face the truth; her nature will never be accepted by Victorian society because “she’s not for the living, she’s not for human kind”. Which is exactly what happens because Robert Eggers describes his Ellen as a “dark, chthonic female heroine" who “makes the ultimate sacrifice and she’s able to reclaim this power through death.” chthonic” means spirits or gods who inhabit the Underworld.

Ellen doesn’t “succumb” to Orlok (this is the nonsensical marketing for this film); she’s reclaiming ownership over her power (death) and her sexuality (sex); she’s accepting herself represented by accepting him. Her “power” is medicalized by Victorian society, and her “sexuality” is owned by her husband. She’s liberating herself. But more on that later.

“Ellen tricks Orlok into staying until dawn” = Incorrect

You cannot trick the person who wrote the Şolomonari codex of secrets, whose instructions are being used in that scene.

When searching Herr Knock’s office alongside Dr. Sievers, Von Franz finds symbols he recognizes as Şolomonari (from Romanian folklore), and discovers a book, which he identifies as the Şolomonari codex of secrets. Later, he reveals to Dr. Sievers and Harding: “our Nosferatu is of an especial malignancy. He is an arch-enchanter, Solomonari, Satan's own learned disciple.” Here, Von Franz is telling the audience the codex belongs to Orlok; because it’s the second time a character has confirmed him as the Şolomonar of the narrative.

This is based on the “Dracula” novel by Bram Stoker; where Count Dracula studied at the Scholomance, a school located in the Carpathian Mountains, in Transylvania, where the Devil is said to instruct 10 or 13 students, which will become Şolomonar after their graduation (Romanian folklore). The course lasts 7 or 9 years, and their final assignment is to copy their entire knowledge of humanity into a "Şolomonar's book"; this codex doesn’t merely belongs to Orlok’s, he wrote it himself as his final assignment to become a Şolomonar.

Like in the novel, it’s Von Franz (Van Helsing book counterpart) who reveals that Dracula/Orlok that studied at the Scholomance/is a Şolomonar: "learned his secrets in the Scholomance, amongst the mountains over Lake Hermanstadt, where the devil claims the tenth scholar as his due"; which is exactly what the Old Abbess tells Thomas: "A black enchanter he was in life. Solomonari. The Devil preserved his soul that his corpse may walk again in blaspheme."

In these book are the instructions in how a Şolomonar can break free from his own Nosferatu curse (which can happen when you are dealing with a quest for immortality). Which is exactly what Orlok was after; this is his “masterplan” sort of speak. He wants Ellen to break the curse she put on him, for his spirit to be set free, and he wants to take her soul with him, forever united (“you shall be one with me, ever-eternally”).

Orlok has no Satanic symbols on his sigil and coat of arms, because he's, in fact, a Pagan enchanter, worshiper of the Dacian god Zalmoxis (Robert Eggers is following an academic thesis that links the folkloric Solomonari with Zalmoxis worship) but Paganism was demonized by Christianity and their followers labeled as "devil worshippers". And Von Franz, student of the occult or not, is a man of his time.

“Orlok didn’t get Ellen’s soul at the end” = Incorrect

Orlok is a strigoi, and as such, it’s not blood he feeds on, specifically. It’s “life force” and “living energy” (“blood is the life”); he feeds on his victims souls, and that’s what sustains him. And that’s why Thomas had to be exorcised.

When he’s feeding off Ellen’s blood, he’s actually feeding off her soul, giving life to himself, for the Solomonari ritual to be possible. Their souls are merging inside of that rotten corpse. At dawn, when it gets destroyed, Orlok and Ellen’s united souls are set free as their combined blood pours out of “Nosferatu”. And Orlok is now an “empty shell” because their joined souls have been liberated to the Afterlife, together, forever. And the last shot of the film really drives home this; as they lie embraced in death, both finally at peace, their souls united, as it was fated to be.

“Orlok is the villain of the film” = Incorrect

The villains of this story are the Victorian characters and Victorian society. Everyone keeps romanticizing.

Robert Eggers calls Ellen a “victim of 19th century society” several times on interviews, and how she’s completely misunderstood and unseen by everyone around her (except by Von Franz and Orlok):

“People talk a lot about Lily-Rose Depp’s character’s sexual desire, which is a massive part of the character, of what she experiences — being shut down, and corseted up, and tied to the bed, and quieted with ether. Misunderstood, misdiagnosed. But it’s more than that. She has an innate understanding about the shadow side of the world that we live in that she doesn’t have language for. This gift and power that she has isn’t in an environment where it’s being cultivated, to put it mildly. It’s pretty tragic. Then she makes the ultimate sacrifice, and she’s able to reclaim this power through death”.

The real tragedy on Ellen’s story is not her connection with Orlok; it’s her human life in Victorian society; where her supernatural gifts are medicalized, and dismissed at every turn. Like Robert Eggers also says: “[Ellen is a] victim to 19th-century society […] she can see into another realm, and has a certain kind of understanding that she doesn’t have the language for,” Eggers said. “But people are calling her melancholic and hysteric and all of these things.”

This entire story is Ellen liberating herself from her oppression by Victorian society, like Linda Muir, the costume designer, tells us in an interview about how Ellen’s wardrobe tells a story about female repression and liberation:

Her [Ellen] true nature [takes over] in the end. She liberates herself by ripping herself open, ripping her striped dress open. She liberates herself by wearing the same garment over and over and over again when she's staying at Harding's home. So she's liberated herself in that she doesn't feel the need to dress up completely each and every day. And then she liberates herself completely in the end.”

Linda Muir also talked about the importance of "Ellen's corset" to the story in an interview with "The Art of Costume", and it symbolizes her oppression and medicalization by Victorian society.

Historically, corsets have always been considered an instrument of women’s oppression, so it’s not surprising to see them having the same meaning here. Corsets were restrictive devices that rendered women immobile, passive and prone to fainting, and the Feminist movement of the 20th century saw them as “as one of the quintessential Victorian social horrors”. Corsets were also considered a sign of respectability, because they controlled the body, and, by extension, physical passions.

Ellen corset consumes her until she tries to break free from it during her “possession scene” with Thomas; the point of that scene was her showing him her true nature, and his reaction was to call the doctor on her. His “love” and her medicalization are the same. That’s what she leaves behind. And at the end, she’s fully naked before Orlok, no more corsets, fully liberated.

This is a very feminist story through the lenses of Historical Feminism, because this is about Ellen reclaiming her own power, through death and sex (the core themes of this story).

#Nosferatu 2024 #Robert Eggers #Ellen Hutter 2024 #count Orlok 2024 #Thomas Hutter 2024 #Anna Harding #Friedrich Harding #professor Von Franz #Nosferatu #historical feminism

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mermaidgirl30 · 3 days ago

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✨Dancing With Fire Part 7: Show ‘Em How It’s Done, My Beautiful Swan✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x Ballerina Fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I’ve been trying to finish this story for months now. All it took was for me to going to a showing of Swan Lake ballet!

Chapter Summary: It’s finally opening night of Swan Lake, and Joel talks you through taking the stage like the star you are.

Rating: 18+ only

Word Count: 6.1k

Tags: A little angst, soft! Joel, protective! Joel, theater drama, age gap (reader mid 20’s, Joel in his early 40’s) No use Y/N, reader’s nickname is Sunshine

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Your heart thundered in your chest with every tap your dainty toes made against the polished floors. Sweat beaded your forehead as shades of crimson filled your peripheral vision. It’s almost like a ghost walked these dim halls now instead of you, all hushed and meek as the icy hair hit your bare arms.

This place felt like a prison the longer you stood here, fear trembling through your bones. This was it, the moment you’ve waited for since Pierre stepped foot onto this hollow stage.

This is it.

As you waited for Carlotta to step into the auditorium with her overflowing coffee cup and lipstick smeared against the white lid, you felt anxiety like you’d never felt before. And as if Joel could sense your gut-wrenching fright, you could feel his large presence looming over you, making sure you felt safe.

“Easy there. S’alright, I’m right here. Pierre ain’t gonna last a second when he gets here,” he assured you with his large palm caressing the small of your back, making that fear creep away as his warm breath blew down your neck.

“You really think he’ll get kicked out?” you asked with a shaky breath.

He stepped closer and laced his fingers with yours, giving you that gentle squeeze of reassurance you so desperately needed. “If my plan worked and she watched that video, there’s no fuckin’ way she’d let him stay.”

As if right on cue, Carlotta came storming into the auditorium, waving an arm frantically in the air with coffee nearly spilling over the sides. “Pierre! Where is Pierre?!” Her voice was hot and angry, and her face looked as red as the morning sunrise.

Pierre’s murky eyes appeared as he took the stage, and the deep snarl he gave you was enough to make you topple over in fear, but Joel stood firm behind you and became the rock that made you stand tall.

“Little swan,” Pierre growled under his breath as his eyes penetrated your frigid stare. Those cold, dark eyes alone were enough to shake you to the core.

“Pierre, come here!” Carlotta’s scream rang around the expansive auditorium, and you were holding your breath while you watched him turn slowly and parade down the wooden steps, down to where she was holding out her cell phone.

Your eyes went wide as you watched the visual of the recording. The one where Pierre snapped and slapped your face, pushing you down into the hardwood floor as fear smothered your insides.

You couldn’t bear to watch that video again, so you turned and nuzzled your face in Joel’s warm flannel, where it was safe and secure and so very gentle. He slung a protective arm around your back and cradled your skull, letting his thick fingers run gently through your hair.

It’s like his gentle touch and warm presence send a wave of calm waters over your body every time he’s around you, holding you to him like he’s the anchor to your heart. But that’s what he was, what he’d always be. He was yours, and you feared you’d never be able to let him pull from your reach ever again.

“This is not how we treat our dancers, Pierre! Care to explain?” Her voice was icy, just like the chill that ran straight down your back.

Your eyes peeled over to where Pierre stood frozen to the spot, his jaw clenching with fire as if he was the victim and not the assaulter. “I didn’t mean it, I swear! She was driving me nuts and wouldn’t listen to a thing I was saying, Carlotta I…”

Carlotta held a sharp palm up and silenced him. “I watched the entire thing, and it looked like you were the one to drive her nuts. What was your plan, Pierre? What was the point of slapping your partner?” Her eyes pierced daggers into his clammy skin, and your breath caught with how forceful Carlotta was being. She never defended you before, so why now?

“I… I…” He was completely speechless, and he had nothing to say as his murky eyes flashed the color of a damp swamp. He was terrified. Good.

She zipped her lips and pointed a menacing finger his way. “We don’t hit our partners, Pierre.”

“But I…”

“Period!” She glared on and shoved her phone into the pocket of her burgundy Coach pants. “You’re finished here.”

Pierre’s mouth dropped open, and he almost lost his balance standing on solid ground. “You can’t do this! I’m the star of the show!” he shouted with desperation lurking in his frenzied eyes.

“You’re not anymore. So grab your bag and leave. You’re not welcome in this theater anymore. Josh will take your place.” She shooed him off and frantically ran to the back of the auditorium, screaming for Josh to hurry up and get in place; practice would commence in ten minutes.

You stood there stunned, your mouth hanging wide open as you nearly collapsed with relief. He was gone; you wouldn’t have to ever dance with his terrifying face again. Relief started to drip off your heated skin, and your body relaxed like you were floating in a hot tub, Joel still your rock behind you as his large palm sat against your lower back. He was exactly where you needed him most.

Just before you could completely ease up, an unwelcome feeling slipped through your bones as Pierre appeared across the wooden stage and stalked toward you, prowling as his sharp green eyes narrowed into thin slits, sending fire through your lungs.

His footsteps were heavy and blaring across the open auditorium, and his large figure seemed to envelop you in full on terror that consumed you whole, swallowing you into the depths of the shadows that held you in place. You wouldn’t make it out of here alive, not with the way he glared at you with pure hate dripping off his venomous tongue.

Once Carlotta stepped out, Pierre lunged, and you felt as if he’d claw you to shreds, leaving nothing behind but your crimson blood all over the cold theater floor. “Hey, little swan! What the fuck did I tell you? You’re in for a world of hurt now, little bitch,” he sneered violently as he pursued you like a hungry wolf about to devour his shaking prey.

You couldn’t move, and all form of coherent thoughts left your head in a daze. You were glued to this very spot, and there was nothing that could tear your paralyzed form from the hardwood floor.

Just when you thought he was going to attack, Joel stepped in front of you and shielded your body like a big, thick wall. He looked so furious, the way his nostrils flared and dark eyes narrowed toward Pierre. He wouldn’t take Pierre’s shit. No, this would be the last straw.

“Out of my way,” Pierre barked as his brooding form covered the expanse of the stage, but Joel was much bigger, much broader than Pierre could ever be. And if there’s one thing Joel didn’t take, it was people messing with his girl.

“Not a chance. Back off.” Joel growled as he clenched his massive fists at his side, his knuckles solid white as his fingers curled into his palms.

Your breath hitched as you latched onto his flannel and clung tightly to him as you watched your knight in shining honor defend you.

“Get out of the way, fucker. Let me show your girl just what it means if she wants to play with fire. It spits right back,” Pierre snarled with a low rumble in his chest.

Pierre threw a hand up angrily and lunged for Joel. Joel placed a hand out and snatched his wrist quicker than a blink of an eye, and his eyes flared with violence the longer he stared at Pierre. “Call her bitch one more time and see what happens,” Joel dared Pierre with a heated glare.

Leaning forward and scowling, Pierre smirked devilishly, licking his lips as if he was playing with Joel and his tethered patience. “Bitch.”

The next second, Joel’s arm flexed, and his clenched fist hit Pierre so hard in the nose that blood spewed as an earth-shattering scream came from his covered mouth.

“Shit! What was that for!” Pierre garbled as blood continued to pour from his broken nose.

“That was for messin’ with my girl, asshole. Now get. Out. Of. Here.” He punctuated every word with the cut of his sharp tongue. “Now,” he growled, shoving him so hard in the chest that he toppled to the ground like the coward he was, and then he crawled off the back of the stage and made a run for it.

Before he made it out the back door, you heard him muttering raspy words under his breath. “Mark my words, I’ll be back, little swan. One day, you’ll pay.” His promise ran dry as he fled out of the theater in a hurry.

He was gone.

You stood there shocked like lightning just struck your core, electrified by how fearless your protector was. He broke Pierre’s nose, made him pay for what he did to you so many days ago. He got the security footage for you, made sure Carlotta received it, made damn sure he’d never lay another finger on you. He was much more than your protector. He was everything to you, and now? Now you truly saw how much he cared about you, loved you. And God, you loved this man with every fiber of your being.

He was everything.

He stood there staring at the disappearing blood trail, fists still clenched, jaw locked tight with a scowl a mile wide as his eyes darted with vengeance that dared Pierre to come back and mess with you.

Not being able to help yourself, a small smile crept over the corners of your pink lips, and your eyes crinkled with a lot of admiration while you looked at the man who once again saved your life. Joel slowly turned, and when he met your eyes, his softened embers of deep chocolate irises melted, and then his fingers relaxed when he saw your gentle smile.

“Joel,” you whispered quietly, reaching out to curl your fingers tightly around his tanned wrist while his bruised knuckles brushed against your cheek like a feather floating down your soft skin.

“You okay, sunshine?” he questioned, grazing his calloused fingers down the nape of your neck, drawing you in with the scent of coffee and mahogany that wrapped completely around your mind until all you could smell was him.

“I’m—”

“Hey!” The shrieking scream of Cecilia took you out of your hypnotic daze, and then the stomping of feet broke your hold on Joel’s wrist. You whirled around and came face to face with her glaring icy eyes and her perfect blonde hair tucked up in a secure bun. Even her too-tight leotard made you cringe the way she swayed her hips with confidence. “Think you’re so slick getting Pierre kicked out of the ballet? Think your big, strong maintenance man can always protect you? Well, I don’t think so,” she spit out like the bitch she was.

“Watch your mouth,” Joel warned, ticking his jaw up in anger.

You looked from Joel to Cecilia, eyes wide as your heart skipped wildly in your chest. You wouldn’t let Joel fight all your battles for you; this one was yours to conquer.

Taking a deep breath and stepping hesitantly forward, you pushed your way in front of Joel, letting his wall of a body sink behind yours. He wrapped a big hand around your wrist, giving you concerned brown eyes that asked if you were positive about this. You nodded and unhooked his fingers from your heated skin, and then you faced Cecilia and her burning red face that scorched with fury.

Taking a deep breath, you growled lowly. “Give it a rest, Cecilia. He’s gone, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Jesus, you’re such a bitch, you know that! You think you own this stage, don’t you? Think you’re hot shit in that feathered swan dress, well guess what? Just wait until I get my hands on—”

You seethed and bit your tongue, tasting metallic blood drain down the back of your throat as rage burned inside you. Nu-uh. Not today, not ever again would you take her shit.

Stomping your heel into the ground, you shot her an icy stare that made her jump back an inch in surprise. This time, she’d be the one scared, not you. “I’m the bitch? Are you kidding me?” You threw back your head and cackled, letting the uproarious laughter shake your core at the pretentious bully that stood sneering at you with her unwelcome blue eyes.

“That’s right, you.” She challenged you with slit eyes that looked like a feral cat taunting a little mouse. But you were no little mouse, you were a lioness, and you’d sharpen your claws until they were cut like glass across her shiny skin.

Joel grabbed the back of your black leotard, holding you tightly in place so you wouldn’t lunge, like he knew you were thinking of it. You wanted to. God, you really wanted to claw her perfect face and show her you were no meek mouse who sat around and waited to be played with by a dumb cat. No, you were better than that, and you’d show her.

“You’re the one who’s been bullying me since the very first day I stepped into this ballet company, so cut the pretense. Just because I got the role of Odette and you didn’t doesn’t mean you can bully your way into my role. I won, Cecilia, not you.”

Her cold eyes crowded your body, arms crossing against her over-spilling breasts in her ridiculously tight leotard that should be two sizes bigger. Her nostrils flared, and her eyes were almost the color of ocean flames. She’d attack if she could, but she knew the moment she struck she’d be kicked out just like Pierre.

Huffing and stomping her ballet shoe into the hard floor, she bites. “Fine, you won fair and square! Happy? But make no mistake, I will wear that feathered dress one of these days, and I’ll snatch that glittery crown right out of your dainty hands you freak,” she sneered.

Joel’s breath blew hot down the back of your neck, and you felt the fury that succumbed to his towering body, just waiting to let it out of his cage. You backed into his broad chest, one hand hanging on his veiny forearm as a way to tell him you were alright. You had this like you had the title of a deed in your hand. And in that moment, you made your choice.

You were staying. This was your chance to shine and light up the stage, and you weren’t giving that up for a mean girl who tried to push your buttons every day. Pierre was gone, and that was one burden off your heavy chest.

You held your chin higher and gave her a sly smile, showing her you weren’t messing around, and then you snapped. Hard. “A freak, huh? Well, if I’m a freak, then you’re just a mean bitch who always got her way. But you know what? This is my stage, my ballet, mine. And I’ll wear that jeweled crown every single night until my contract is up because you know why? I worked my ass off for this role, and I’m not having it taken away by some girl who always got everything she ever wanted. No. This is my time to shine. And maybe one day you’ll get this role, but not this time. So I suggest you take your snotty attitude and go bully someone your own size. I’m done taking your shit, Cecilia. Either you leave me alone and be nice, or I’ll have words with Carlotta,” you promised with the bite of your shiny teeth.

Cecilia’s blue eyes went as wide as the full moon, and her jaw dropped straight to the floor at the threat. She didn’t expect you to snap like that because you never did, but now? Now you were just giving it right back to her. She took a hesitant step back and gulped, flicking her eyes between you and Joel’s glaring eyes. You could tell she was nervous. Good. She should be because that’s how she made you feel the entire time you’d been here.

“That’s my girl,” Joel said proudly, clutching an arm possessively around your hip.

Cecilia gulped and nervously tugged at her tiny leotard, clearly trying to get more air into her filled lungs.

Joel slid his tongue slowly against his bottom teeth and ticked his jaw as he watched Cecilia with a careful stare, letting her know he wasn’t messing around either. “If you ever give me or her any more hell, then you’re next. Remember the cameras, blondie. I’m watching,” he warned, narrowing his eyes into thin slits while she nodded and quickly fled the stage, practically leaving behind a snail trail of fear that crept into her body from the intense reminder to never mess with you again.

“Whoa,” you breathed out in shock. Joel spun you around and cupped your chin, bringing your eyes up to his.

“Look at you, sunshine. My sweet swan’s got a sharp beak on her, don’t she?” he smirked, his chocolate eyes flicking to yours with pride and admiration in those warm irises you so desperately loved.

“You taught me well, Joel,” you teased.

“Guess I did,” he chuckled, wrapping his strong arms around you as he pulled you flush to his strong chest, fanning his warm breath over your lips. “So proud of you,” he cooed, and then his lips were on yours in an instant.

Warm. He’s so warm and tastes like a sip of your favorite kind of coffee. Joel’s coffee.

“Alright, where are my dancers? I need my swan! Josh, get out here.” Carlotta’s booming voice filled the room, and you jolted back from Joel with a sigh, not wanting to leave the warmth of Joel’s arms.

“I have to go,” you mewled as you pulled out of Joel’s warm arms, not wanting to let go. Before you pulled completely away, he leaned in and gave you a gentle kiss to the crown of your head.

“Go get ‘em, sunshine. I’ll jus’ be fixin’ up some flooring at the front. You know where to find me.” Joel gave you a gentle smile and nodded your way before he disappeared around the corner.

You stood there another few seconds behind the crimson curtain, out of the bright spotlight from the main stage. You just wanted to soak up this victory, fill your lungs with new oxygen that wasn’t polluted or tainted. You wanted to smell the roses, and that’s exactly what you smelled now.

Peace.

“Swan, let’s go! We’ve got less than a week to get ready. Josh, take it from the top!” Carlotta’s screeching dragged you out from the curtain and on to center stage, exactly where you’d be just a few nights from now.

“Josh, congratulations! I know you’ve wanted this spot for a while now,” you smiled, giving him a congratulatory hug before you got in first position.

He slicked back his auburn hair and flashed you a friendly smile. “Thank you. This is everything I’ve wanted. But honestly, I’m also kind of glad Pierre is gone. He was really mean to you. I just can’t believe it took Carlotta so long to see.”

You nodded and swallowed back the lump in your throat, pushing back down all the terrible memories of Pierre and his little posse. He couldn’t touch you anymore, couldn’t make Cecelia do his bidding anymore, couldn’t ruin your happiness anymore. But the real reason was because Joel stepped in. He stepped in and physically showed Carlotta what Pierre had done.

Joel was your hero, and you loved that man.

Rehearsal flew by quickly the next few days. Josh made it so easy. He was nice, a gentleman, made your routines lighter than Pierre ever did. You finally felt like you belonged on stage, in the spotlight, as the lead of the show. You finally felt like the white swan.

After days of dancing your heart out and finally feeling like this could work, Friday came around. And suddenly, you felt nervous and completely sick to your stomach. Tomorrow night was opening night, and you didn’t know if you could do it.

You were quiet at dinner, only about to take a few bites before you pushed back your full plate of baked chicken and pasta salad. You suddenly weren’t hungry anymore. Joel encouraged you to eat, asked if you were okay, but you just brushed him off and went to take a long, hot shower, trying to scrub away the pit in your stomach that was eating you alive.

After you dried off, you grabbed one of Joel’s flannels and slipped it on, hugging it around your trembling body as you soaked up his warmth and scent. It smelled just like him. Like a cool autumn day, mixed with the scent of the woods and pine cones. It was your favorite smell because it smelled like the man you loved.

Taking a deep breath, you sat on the edge of the bed and twisted your fingers in the cool sheets, trying to get a hold of your growing anxiety. Tomorrow was the big night—the debut of your dancing career. It made your stomach twist into tight knots because right now at this very moment, you didn’t think you could do it. You couldn’t go out there like this. Maybe you didn’t belong. Maybe…

In the next moment, you heard the door crack open while Joel slipped in the bedroom, his footsteps pacing over to you. You felt right on the verge of tears until he placed a warm hand on your knee and gently caressed your soft skin with the pad of his calloused thumb. And that in itself instantly soothed you.

“Hey, sweetheart. You okay?” he asked with concern dripping off the edge of his tongue.

“I’m—yeah. I’m okay,” you whispered out, feeling the lie drag against your teeth.

“You barely touched your dinner tonight and have been real quiet. That’s not like you.”

“Just wasn’t very hungry I guess.”

He clenched his jaw and looked over at you with warm eyes. “You nervous ‘bout tomorrow?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, barely able to face the man with big brown eyes.

“You don’t gotta be nervous, sunshine. You’ve been practicin’ so long for this. You’re gonna do great.”

“What if I choke?” you bit out, afraid of making a fool of yourself in front of thousands.

“You won’t.” There’s no waver in his words.

“How do you know?” You glanced up and then melted into a big puddle by the way he was looking at you. Love and affection written in his starry eyes.

“I jus’ know, okay?”

“Joel, I’m scared. What if I… what if I fail?”

“Oh, sunshine. Look at me, baby.” He dropped to his knees in front of you, taking both your hands in his, his eyes never leaving yours. “Ever since I saw you up on that stage, I jus’ knew that’s what you were made to do. The way you dance, I’ve never seen anything like that. You’ve got passion and a spark I’ve never seen anyone else have except you. You were made to be the swan, babygirl. This is exactly where you should be.”

He swiped a falling tear away from your cheek with the pad of his thumb, easing you into a calm state. “How do you always know what to say to make me feel better?”

He shrugged. “Guess I jus’ know my girl really well.”

A quiet giggle fell from your lips as incandescent happiness bloomed around you. “I never get tired of hearing you say that.”

“Well, I’ll say it every day then. My perfect darlin’ girl.” He shoved himself up from the floor and curled around your body until you were a blanket around his big, strong arms, melting into his weight. Until you were flush to his chest, snug in the bed.

“I love you, Joel,” you whispered into the crook of his neck as he stroked your hair gently.

“I love you too, beautiful. Now, c’mere.” He pulled you in closer, until there was no air left between the two of you. There was only you and him left. That’s all you needed, all you wanted.

“I just want to stay right here. Right in this room with you. Right in your arms where it’s warm and cozy. This is my favorite place. Right here with you,” you breathed, allowing him to smother you with kisses all up and down your neck.

He brushed a sweet kiss across your forehead and then placed his thumb and index finger around your chin, tilting your head till you were eye to eye with him. “Every time you start doubtin’ yourself or get nervous, jus’ think of me, sunshine. Think of how proud you make me, beautiful. Pretend we’re in this room, jus’ the two of us. And think of how good I make you feel. Always jus’ wanna make you feel so good. My best girl.”

Once you nodded in response, he kissed you like no one else has. No one but him. Sweet, saccharine, gentle kisses that could bring you to your knees. “What did I ever do to deserve you…” you whispered out between kisses.

Joel stopped a second, giving you a once over slowly, until a big smile took over his face. “I ask myself that same question every day, sunshine. What did I do to get the most beautiful ballerina?”

You shrugged, clueless for a second, but then you remembered he saw you at your lowest. He brought you back into the sunshine. “You were there for me when no one else was. You cared, Joel. And you still care. I’m so lucky.”

“I’ll always be there for you, sunshine. As long as you need me.”

“I’ll always need you.” You pulled him close until all you could feel was the warmth from his body pressing into yours. You prayed you’d never have to let him go.

As if he could read your mind, he sighed, “I’m not goin’ anywhere, sunshine.” And it was a promise. You’re holding him to that.

Opening night. This was it. This is what you’ve been waiting for your entire life. A spot as the swan queen, your first starring role in a professional ballet. Although things have been patchy and downhill since you’ve arrived in New York, tonight was your night.

Staring at the lit-up stage, seeing props and tapestries being strewn around the theater seemed surreal. But that fear was creeping in again—the one that nearly sent you running for the door.

“Hey,” Joel’s deep voice floated through your ears until your body didn’t feel like an icy lake anymore. And then his big hands were gently massaging your shoulders. “Remember what I said. You’re gonna do great, sunshine. I can’t wait to see you light up that stage as the beautiful swan you are.” His lips brushed your cheek, sending warmth radiating through every joint in your body.

“Thanks for always believing in me,” you breathed out, turning to throw your arms around him. “I hope I don’t let you down.”

“Oh, sweet girl. You could never let me down.” When he untangled your arms from around him, he slowly placed a gentle kiss to the back of your knuckles. “I’m gonna be here a quarter till seven. Right in the third row where my seat is. And if you get nervous or scared, just look out to the crowd and find me. I’ll be right there.” And with that, he’s blowing you one more kiss and then disappearing behind the big red curtain, leaving you alone to get ready for the big show.

Blowing your nerves out, you made your way back to the dressing room, letting your hands roam over the white silk of the swan dress. This is it. This is the moment you've been waiting for forever. It’s here. Taking your time, you unhurriedly peeled on your tights, laced up your dress with the help from some of the girls, and slipped on your pointe shoes, tying the silk of the laces into neat bows. Next came the makeup and then the feathery crown, the last piece to the costume that would turn you into the swan queen.

When everything was finished, you looked up into the mirror and gasped. Everything about you screamed you were the swan queen. Winged eyeliner, shimmery red lipstick, sparkles dusted in your neat bun, the silky white fabric hugging your curves, the feathered crown glistening under the dressing room lights. You finally felt like the star you were.

“I’m…”

“Beautiful,” Carlotta called from the open doorway, gazing at you like you were a goddess under the moonlight. When you turned her way, she took your hand and smiled, really smiled. The first genuine one you’ve ever seen her give to you. “You ready to go dance, my perfect swan?”

“I—uhh. Yes,” you nodded with a small smile, thanking the girls before she whisked you out of the room to give you and Josh a pep talk and some last minute tips for your dances together.

“You ready to knock ‘em dead, teammate?” Josh asked when Carlotta was finished babbling.

You smiled and nodded. “Let’s show them what we’re made of.”

In just another hour, the theater room was packed—bodies lined the red velvet seats, voices traveled all the way backstage, the spotlights dimmed and fell on the orchestra that was just starting their first act songs. And when the first dancers took their places on stage, your heart started racing. Sweat built along the back of your neck, your brain felt all fuzzy, and imposter syndrome took root in your gut.

Just when it was almost your time to step onto the polished stage, when you looked out, fear flooded your insides. That is until you saw him sitting in the third row, four seats away from the aisle. Your heart stopped and everything seemed to slow down. There he was—slicked back hair, an encouraging smile on his lips, nodding for you to take your place. But with one wink your way, he told you everything you needed to know. He was here for you, and you could do anything you set your mind to.

So with one push, you took your place in the spotlight, all nerves seeming to dissipate from your limbs. You finally felt like you belonged in this room, all because Joel gave you the courage to continue. You wouldn’t even still be here if it wasn’t for that sappy, desirable man. You wouldn’t be the swan queen for the season. And that’s exactly who you were. The swan queen.

With your head held high and all emotions laid out on the stage, you did what you did best, and that’s dance. You lost yourself in every move, every beat, every position. You got lost in the lull of the music, let Josh lift you over his head, gliding you through spins and jumps. You’ve never felt so weightless, especially with Joel’s eyes on you. You looked over every few minutes, hiding a blush when you locked eyes with him. Even though the crowd was dark, you could still make out those soft brown eyes. Ones that belonged to a man you were head over heels with.

The next couple of hours came to a sudden halt when the crowd was standing to their feet, applauding the performance of the night. Josh presented you to the crowd, and you bowed gracefully, curtsying as cheers rang loud around the dome of the theater. They ricocheted off you, swelling your chest into a big balloon before Joel’s big smile nearly sucked all the air out of you. With one more group bow, the red curtain dropped, signaling the end of your very first show.

Carlotta came and presented you with a bouquet of vibrant flowers, calling you the most beautiful swan in history. And with one more hug to Josh and the rest of the dancers, you made your way back to your dressing room and collapsed into the white chair in front of the lit vanity, catching your breath as you set the bouquet down next to your dance bag.

Just when you were about to take off your shoes, a slight knock came from the doorway. “Come in!” you shouted, still a little out of breath. You expected it to be Carlotta, but a deep, Southern drawl sounded from the doorway.

“There you are. There’s my little star.” You whipped your head around, and your jaw dropped to the floor. There, standing in the open doorway, was Joel Miller in a tuxedo. Dark, silky black tie, pressed black jacket, sleek black pants, a button-up white shirt tucked in that clung to his broad chest. And his hair—dark locks slicked back with grey strands threaded together. And then there was the bouquet of a dozen roses held against his chest.

Oh my god, he is stunning.

“Joel…” You were speechless, breathless even. You’ve never seen the man look so good. “You look so—good.”

He chuckled, shook his head at the compliment. “No, darlin’. That’s all you. You leave me breathless,” he confessed with a big smile. Holding his hand out with the beautiful bouquet of roses, he nudged closer to you. “These are for you, darlin’.”

You quietly tiptoed over to him, taking the bouquet from his hand while you sniffed the carnations, carefully setting them down on top of the vanity. “They’re so beautiful, Joel. Thank you.”

“Anything for my beautiful swan. Think you deserve flowers every day.”

“Oh, yeah?” you asked as he tugged you into his strong arms, his hands cupping your face, tilting your mouth up to his.

“Yeah, think I might jus’ start from now on.” And then his lips were on yours, pulling you in as you got lost in the taste, the smell, the feel of him.

“Well,” you smiled once you broke away from the kiss. “How about a ballet studio too?” You bit your bottom lip, afraid you jumped too far, but he only smiled brighter.

“Yeah? That what you want?” he asked as he skimmed the pad of his thumb under your bottom lip.

“Mhm. In Florida. When I’m done with my contract here. I want my own studio. I want to teach.”

He toyed with that thought a moment, flipped it through his mind before he hummed. “So, you’re telling me you wanna go back to Florida after you’re finished here? And you want your own studio to teach?”

“Mhm, that’s what I’m saying,” you nodded with a giggle.

“Would this include a house with me?” he asked with an arched brow, pulling you in just a little closer so his big brown eyes could rake over you.

“Mmmm, yes,” you breathed out, letting him wrap his strong arms around your waist until you were flush with his chest again.

“Alright,” he smiled, “guess you’re stuck with me then, sunshine.”

“Promise?” you giggled as he lifted you in his arms, setting you down on the edge of the lit vanity, his hands skimming each side of you.

“Promise,” he whispered. “I’m gonna build you your dream studio, sunshine.”

“I know you will, handsome,” you sighed as he pulled you into a lasting kiss, letting his lips take you to the edge of bliss once again.

“It’s jus’ you and me, sunshine,” he whispered between breaths. “Forever…”

“And ever…” you finished for him as he sucked you into another breathless kiss.

You may have a few more months with the dance company, but you’ll have Joel for a lifetime. And that’s all you could ask for. After your contract was up, it looks like you’d be headed back to Florida. But this time, you’d get to have both ballet and the guy. It’s all you could’ve asked for.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller tlou

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reveriebae · 2 days ago

Text

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pairing(s) : Kim Hongjoong x reader

word count : 1873

summary : You and Hongjoong share a heated, passionate night, filled with intense attraction and desire. After teasing each other, you end up in his car, where things get physical and intense, leaving you both breathless and craving more.

genre : smut

warning(s) : sexual content, intense physical intimacy, dominance/submission dynamics, and some heavy language. It also involves themes of possessiveness and desire. Let me know if I missed anything!

part of Songfic

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐smut under the cut 🪐

The party was bumping, lights flashing, bass thumping in your chest, the whole room filled with bodies swaying to the rhythm. It was one of those nights where you knew you could lose yourself in the music, the people, and the drinks. But there was one person who was a constant distraction—the one person who’d always had this effect on you, even though you couldn’t quite explain why.

Hongjoong.

It had been a while since you last saw him. The two of you were never anything serious, just a casual thing that always left you wanting more. But tonight, as soon as you spotted him in the crowd, the connection was undeniable.

He was leaning against the bar, a drink in hand, looking effortlessly cool in his leather jacket. His eyes scanned the room, but when they met yours, it was like everything else faded away. There was that spark, that familiar pull between you two that was always just waiting to ignite.

You took a step closer, and Hongjoong’s lips curled into a smirk when he noticed you. His gaze dropped to your lips for a split second, then back to your eyes.

“Been a while,” he said, his voice low, almost as if he were speaking just to you, despite the music blaring around you.

You leaned against the bar, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. “Yeah, it has,” you replied, a teasing edge in your tone. “I guess we’ve both been busy.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Not too busy to notice you.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a playful smile. “Is that so?”

Hongjoong’s gaze darkened just a little, his lips parting as if to say something else—but then, just as quickly, he closed the distance between you two, his body brushing against yours in a way that made your heart race. His breath was warm against your ear when he leaned in, just close enough that his lips were a whisper away from your skin.

“You don’t know how much I’ve missed this,” he murmured, voice hushed but with a clear edge of desire that made your pulse spike.

Before you could reply, his hand slid down your back, pressing you just a little closer. You could feel the tension building between you two, that irresistible attraction you could never quite shake off. Your body instinctively leaned into him, and his hand tightened on your waist, guiding you through the crowd toward a quieter area of the party.

As you two moved further away from the chaos of the dance floor, the noise softened, and it felt like it was just the two of you, the air between you electric. Hongjoong’s hand never left your side, his fingers grazing your skin with each step, teasing, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

He led you to a secluded corner near the back, out of view from most of the people. His hand cupped your jaw, pulling your face toward his. The moment your lips met, it was like everything else faded into the background—the sounds, the lights, the people. All you could focus on was him. The taste of his kiss, intoxicating and deep, like he was trying to draw you in, make you feel him in every part of you.

His other hand slid down your body, tracing the curve of your waist, fingers teasing the fabric of your clothes. You shivered at the contact, biting down on your lower lip. “Hongjoong,” you breathed out against his mouth, your hands finding their way to his chest, pushing him back just a little.

He looked at you with a smirk, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “What’s wrong? You scared?” he teased, his voice dripping with confidence.

You met his gaze, your lips curling into a mischievous grin. “Not scared,” you whispered, “just making sure you know what you’re getting into.”

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting just slightly, that playful edge replaced by something more intense. “Oh, I know exactly what I’m getting into,” he replied, his voice lower now, more commanding. Without another word, he closed the space between you again, kissing you with a hunger that made your head spin.

His hands roamed freely now, one sliding under your shirt, the warmth of his touch making your body react instantly. The heat between you two was undeniable. You could feel his chest press against yours, his breathing growing heavier as his hands explored your body, as if he were mapping you out.

When he pulled away for a moment, you barely had time to catch your breath before he was kissing down your neck, his lips trailing hot, wet kisses over your skin. You closed your eyes, tilting your head back, completely lost in the sensation.

“Shit, you feel good,” he muttered against your skin, his voice raw with desire.

You responded by pulling him back into another kiss, your hands moving to the waistband of his jeans, teasing him just as much as he had teased you. “I could say the same about you,” you replied breathlessly.

The smirk on his face grew, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I told you, I know exactly what I’m getting into,” he said, pushing you back gently against the wall. His hands were all over you now—pulling at your clothes, his fingers pressing against the skin he couldn’t get enough of.

The heat between you two was unbearable, a magnetic force that neither of you could resist. And when he finally pulled you close, his lips crashing into yours again, you knew there was no going back. This time, there was no stopping it. The rest of the world didn’t matter, just this. Just the way he made you feel, the way his body moved against yours, the way he claimed you like he had every right to.

Hongjoong broke away, panting, his eyes dark with lust. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, his voice rough, his hand gripping yours as he led you to the exit of the party.

The moment you stepped outside, the night air hit you like a splash of cold water, but it only made your skin burn hotter. Hongjoong’s hand stayed locked with yours, his grip firm, pulling you closer. The city lights flickered in the distance as you walked toward his car, the anticipation thick between you.

As soon as you got into the car, the tension snapped. Hongjoong wasted no time, his lips back on yours, urgent this time, like he was trying to devour you. His hand slid up your thigh, his touch rough and needy. You responded by straddling him, your knees on either side of his, grinding against his growing erection as the kiss deepened.

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” Hongjoong muttered between kisses, his hands gripping your waist as you moved against him, the car rocking slightly with your rhythm.

You smirked, breaking away from his lips to whisper in his ear, “I know you can’t get enough of me.”

He groaned, biting down on your neck, the sharp sting sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as you both fought for control. But Hongjoong wasn’t about to let you take the lead. He flipped you over so you were lying back on the seat, his body hovering over yours, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

“You’re mine now,” he growled, his voice low and possessive. He didn’t give you a chance to respond before he was pulling your shirt off, his hands roaming over your exposed skin. His lips found your neck again, kissing, nipping, sucking at your pulse point, making your breath catch.

“Fuck, Hongjoong,” you gasped, your hands running through his hair, pulling him closer as if you couldn’t get enough of him either.

He chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your skin. “That’s right, baby. You can’t get enough of me.”

His hands moved lower, tugging at the waistband of your jeans, his eyes never leaving yours as he undressed you. You shivered under his touch, the anticipation making every inch of your skin buzz with need. As soon as you were bare before him, Hongjoong’s mouth went straight to your chest, his tongue flicking over your nipple before sucking it into his mouth.

The sensation made your back arch off the seat, your fingers tightening in his hair. “Fuck, just like that,” you moaned.

Hongjoong smirked, pulling away long enough to look you in the eyes. “You’re gonna beg for me, aren’t you?” His tone was teasing, but there was no mistaking the challenge in his voice.

You bit your lip, playing along with his game. “Make me, Hongjoong,” you whispered, your voice dripping with desire.

A growl escaped him, and he didn’t waste any time. His hands moved to your thighs, parting your legs as he positioned himself between them. His eyes met yours for a moment, making sure you were ready, before he pushed inside you with one smooth thrust.

You gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders as your body adjusted to him. Hongjoong leaned down, kissing you deeply, his hips starting to move against yours, slow at first, building up the pace as your breaths came faster.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Hongjoong groaned, his voice rough. “Can’t get enough of you.”

You responded by meeting his thrusts, your body moving with his, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the car. Every thrust pushed you further into the seat, the friction between you two making you burn with need. Hongjoong’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as he fucked into you harder, deeper.

Your body was on fire, every nerve lit up, every part of you aching for more. Hongjoong’s lips found your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “You’re mine,” he growled again, his pace quickening, his grip tightening. “Say it.”

You moaned, unable to hold back the words. “I’m yours,” you gasped, the admission only spurring him on. He slammed into you harder, his body crashing against yours with each thrust.

The pleasure was overwhelming, each wave of sensation leaving you breathless. Hongjoong’s name escaped your lips over and over, his rhythm pushing you closer to the edge. When you finally came, it was with a scream of his name, your body trembling beneath his as he followed you, spilling into you with one final thrust.

You both stayed there for a moment, catching your breath, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. Hongjoong pressed his forehead against yours, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “Told you, baby. You’re fucking perfect.”

You smirked, running your fingers through his hair as you tried to steady your breathing. “Not bad yourself.”

He grinned, pulling you into a kiss. “Next time, we do it in my place,” he said, voice low and full of promise.

You smiled against his lips. “I’m looking forward to it.”

#ateez #ateez fic #ateez smut #smut #hongjoong fic #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong #hongjoong #Spotify

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gh0stly-mp3 · 2 days ago

Note

hello

Can I ask about the blue lock characters, since the reader is male or gn is the boyfriend of the blue lock's characters, the important thing is that the reader is suffering from a serious illness in his body, and he did not tell your boyfriend about his illness, I want specific characters such as (Snuffy, Lavinho, and Chris Noa and Baro, Shoei and Kaiser, Julian and Shido, Sae and Oliver, and Otoya and Karasu)

Since you suggested several characters, I chose a few from these options, so I made the master strikers (might do a part 2 cause I really liked writing it)

your not alone -> bllk drabbles

master strikers x male!reader

synopsis: your boyfriend finds out that you have a severe illness and didn't tell them

tags: bllk drabbles, master strikers, angst w comfort, sick reader, male reader

warnings: manga spoilers, hurt/angst, severe illness mention, blood mention (in noa's), drugs/medicine mention (in lavinho's)

characters: master strikers :D

masterlist.

Noel Noa

You didn't want to disturb Noa; he was always busy with too much to handle, and you didn’t want to be a burden. But Noa is a very observant man, and he slowly started realizing that something wasn’t right. However, he decided to wait for you to tell him because he hated overstepping.

Neither of you talked about how your health was getting worse day by day, but Noa was becoming more and more worried about you.

Everything went downhill one day when you were watching TV with Noa and suddenly started feeling dizzy. You went to the kitchen to grab some water when you began coughing uncontrollably. Then, you saw red.

Noa went after you and saw the floor covered in blood, you holding on to the sink while more blood dripped from your mouth. Noa immediately went into full protective mode. He grabbed you and rushed you to the hospital as fast as he could while talking to you to make sure you stayed conscious.

After you were taken care of, Noa grabbed your hand tightly. You could see that he had cried. He looked you in the eyes and said: "Never do that again, please. I want to know everything, so I can take care of you..." - You nodded.

He was your boyfriend, and you would never be a burden to him. After that day, he drove you to all your medical appointments, made sure you took your meds, and ensured you had a healthy diet.

Chris Prince

You knew Chris would find out sooner or later; he loved taking care of you, especially when it came to your health, and eventually, he would notice that you couldn't do the things you once could.

It happened on a quiet afternoon when you were trying to make lunch. The simple task of chopping vegetables felt like climbing a mountain, and your hands shook with every cut. You were hoping he wouldn’t notice, but as he walked into the kitchen, his eyes immediately locked on you, concern furrowing his brows.

“Hey, are you okay?” - Chris asked, stepping closer.

“Yeah, just a bit tired.” - You tried to brush it off with a smile.

He raised an eyebrow. - “Tired? You look like you're about to pass out.” - He gently took the knife from your hand, his grip firm but tender. - “Sit down. What’s going on?”

You felt the familiar pang of guilt in your chest. Chris had always been the one to take care of you, not the other way around. And here you were, hiding something so big from him. - “I… I didn’t want to worry you,” - You murmured, your voice shaking. - “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Chris knelt in front of you, his hand lifting your chin so you’d look at him. - “You’re never a burden to me. You’re my everything, my sweet boyfriend.” - His voice was soft but full of urgency. - “What’s really going on?”

You sighed, unable to hold back anymore. - “I’ve been feeling worse, Chris. I'm ill... And I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want to see that look in your eyes… I didn’t want you to worry.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, processing the words, before his arms wrapped around you tightly. - “Don’t you ever hide something like that from me again. I’m here, okay? We’ll get through this together.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, the weight of everything you’d kept hidden finally crashing down. - "I’m so fucking scared" - You whispered.

“I know” - He whispered back, holding you even tighter. - “But you don’t have to be. Not while I’m here.”

Lavinho

Lavinho was oblivious. He always thought that if you had something going on, you'd tell him immediately. So he was absolutely confused when he opened your drawer and found a bunch of medicine. For a moment, Lavinho thought you were selling drugs, but then he saw the prescriptions.

His heart sank, and in that instant, the past few weeks replayed in his head. He remembered how you started skipping practices, how you’d look exhausted after simple tasks, how your usual energy seemed to fade. You've been distant in a way that didn’t fit with the rhythm you two always shared, especially when it came to soccer.

His mind raced, panic setting in as he stood there, staring at the bottles. He wanted to believe there was an explanation — some innocent reason for all of this — but doubts crept in.

You're his boyfriend. His soccer duo. His best friend. You wouldn’t hide something like this from him, would you?

The sound of the front door opening broke his spiraling thoughts. He quickly stuffed the bottles back into the drawer, his heart pounding in his chest. You walked into the room, looking surprised to see him standing there, a mix of curiosity and concern in your eyes.

“Hey, what’s up, babe?” - You asked casually, though there was an edge to your tone that made Lavinho’s stomach tighten.

He swallowed hard, trying to sound normal. - “Porra [fuck]... I... uh, I was looking for something and... I found meds... Ai caralho [oh fuck]. - He ran his hand through his hair. - "Please tell me what's going on?”

For a second, you froze. Then, you let out a quiet sigh and sat down on the bed, not meeting his gaze.

“I'm sorry Lavi, I didn’t want you to worry” - You said with a shaky voice. - “I’ve been dealing with something, but I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I’m fine, really.”

Lavinho’s chest tightened. - "You’re shure?" - His voice cracked slightly, betraying the fear that had built up in him. - "Don’t lie to me, please."

You hesitated, finally looking up at him, the vulnerability in your eyes more than he could bear. - “Alright... I’m ill, Lavi. It’s been affecting me more than I thought. The medicine helps, but… I didn’t want to drag you into it.”

Without thinking, he crossed the room and sat next to you, taking your hand in his. - “You’re my partner” - He said, his voice steady despite the storm in his chest. - “We face everything together, 'kay? You should’ve told me. I’m not going anywhere. Whatever this is, we’ll get through it. But you can’t keep this from me. Not when it’s hurting you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and for the first time in weeks, you let yourself lean on him. Lavinho pulled you close. - “You’re everything. And we’ll figure this out, together.”

Julian Loki

Julian was always busy, flying everywhere. You two had hard times scheduling to see each other, and you wanted to tell him about your illness face to face, so he wouldn't freak out.

Eventualy, he was able to visit you for 3 days, and when he saw how exsausted you looked, he was shocked. He immediatly knew something was wrong, but he waited for the best moment to talk to you about it.

When you two were alone, cuddling on the couch, Loki brought it up gently. - "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"What do you mean?" - You asked, nervous that he had noticed something. You didn't want your first day together to be ruined by the news of your illness.

"You don't seem well, mon chéri." - He replied in his smooth voice while gently caressing your back. - "Please, tell me if something is wrong. I’m here for you."

These simple words made you break down in tears. How could he know you so well? Loki knew exactly how to approach you in a way that made you feel comfortable and loved.

When you finally calmed down, you vomited all the agony you had been feeling in the past few weeks in a messy ramble. Loki listened to you carefully as you told him about the diagnosis, the doctor visits, the constant anxiety, and how afraid you were to tell him.

He held you in silence for a while, gently caressing your back. "I'm here now. We'll get through this together, mon chéri."

Marc Snuffy

You were really scared to trigger Snuffy due to his past experience with losing someone, and he had an important match coming up and you were scared he wouldn't do that good if he knew it.

You told yourself that once he came back home you'd tell him. You didn't. He was so happy and cute you didn't want him to worry about your situation, you clould handle it.

You couldn't, not by yourself. But the weight of your fear kept growing heavier each day. One night, after Snuffy had returned from training, you were sitting together on the couch, watching a movie. He was laughing, his voice warm and comforting, but you were quiet, really quiet.

He paused, noticing the shift in your demeanor. - "Hey, what's wrong, amore?" - Snuffy asked gently, his gaze soft with concern.

"I..." you whispered, choking on the words. Your vision blurred as your chest tightened, and before you could say anything more, everything went black.

Snuffy rushed to you immediately, his arms supporting you as you slumped against him. His voice was calm and reassuring, his hands gently brushing your hair away from your face.

"Hey, hey, it's okay" - he murmured. - "You're safe. I’ve got you. I'm here"

When your vision was back to normal, Snuffy was right there, his worried eyes studying you. - "I'm sorry" - You mumbled, feeling a pang of guilt.

"Don't apologize. Just tell me what's happening" - He said softly, brushing a thumb across your cheek. Then, you told him everything from the start, and when you finished talking he kissed your forehead gently.

"You don't have to carry this alone. We’re a team, remember? Let me help you through this." - You nodded, feeling the weight slowly lift as Snuffy held you close, knowing that with him, you'd be okay.

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