#just stopped by to drop some anger at you

[rafeandonlyrafe]

in his corner

words: 2.7k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, boxer!rafe, established relationship, p in v sex, semi public sex, violence but not in great detail, unprotected sex, mentions of rafes anger issues

rafes head is down as you step into the locker room. it's dark and gloomy, no need for bright lights that just illuminate the blood and grime more.

the fleeting sunlight peeking in through the windows only casts light upon the dust floating in the room as you close the door behind you, causing rafe to finally look up.

his eyes shift from pure focus to something softer. “hey.” his voice is still low, slightly hoarse from not speaking most of the day.

“hey.” you move the rest of the way into the room, your footsteps sounding thunderous in the silence that always cloaks the gym before a fight, especially one like this.

“ill be safe.” you see a hint of humor in his eyes now as you roll yours. you always tell rafe to stay safe before a fight, it's become such an expectation that he beats you to it.

“do you have your gloves?” you ask, looking towards his gym bag, wanting to rifle through it to make sure rafe has everything he needs, even though you packed it for him.

“of course.” rafe smiles, wrapping his hands around the back of your thighs and pulling you closer into him, his forehead pressing against your stomach.

“you're nervous for this one.” rafe states. he doesn't need to ask, he can tell just by your energy, the way your breathing is more frantic, your eyes opened ever so slightly wider than normal.

“im not the one in the ring.” you hum, hand coming to the back of his neck, stroking over his hairline, taming it despite knowing it's only a few minutes before it's going to get messed up again, either by rafe rubbing at it or the opponent.

“i know.” rafe looks up at you, a soft smile on his face. “but ya love me.”

“mmm, unfortunately.” you joke, a smile flashing across your lips before you drop your head to press your mouths against rafe, the kiss hungry and desperate, knowing it may be your last for a while if rafe gets his lip busted open.

“okay-” rafe sighs, pulling away, restraint in his voice as his insides call to continue kissing you. “it's almost time. love you.”

“love you too.” you back away but keep your eyes locked with rafe until your back is pressed up against the door. “win for me.”

you step out, eyes flickering around his team, waiting in the hallway for you, knowing better than to interrupt your moment with rafe.

“he's ready.” you nod to rafes coach before ducking out of the way as they file into the locker room.

you can hear the noise of the crowd grow as you walk into the arena, rows of seats all facing towards the central octagon. none of the security stops you to ask for a ticket as you walk to the front, rafe has become a headliner at the boxing gym, and you a vip along with it.

you take your seat, a coveted one, right in rafes corner. you know he has supporters, and while you appreciate most of them, the female ones who fawn over him anger you every time they shout his name or try to give him their number, but his quick shut down of advances always washes away the brief resentment.

“hey y/n.” rafes coaches brother, lewis, sits next to you, your de facto personal bodyguard. you insisted you didn't need someone looking over you, but rafe was always worried about a fight starting in the crowd. it certainly wouldn't be the first one that has broken out at a boxing gym.

“hi lewis.” you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and lean back in your seat as the prematch comes out, beginner fighters to keep all the early attendees from getting impatient while the crowd grows and seats fill.

overall, it's a professional arena. not on a pro level by any standards, but the best you can get in the area without making boxing full time. it certainly puts the smaller gyms rafe started out in to shame.

you were the one who originally suggested it. any sort of contact sport to work through some of his anger. you saw it bubbling under the surface, and you knew rafe would never do anything in your presence, even if he wanted to scream and punch a wall, he'd bottle it all in just to not scare you.

you clap as the first round comes to an end, ever the good supporter and attendee. it's part of the reason the gym likes rafe so much, he's no fuss, no personal drama, just pure fighting.

there's more rounds as you wait to see rafe, the rest of the seats being filled along with standing room in the back for anyone getting in late. 

a new referee steps into the ring, a professional with years of experience who doesn't bother with the lower level fights, saving himself for the main event. 

you sit up a little straighter in your seat as your eyes move to the door, a smile stretching over your cheeks as rafe steps out to applause and the thumbing base of a rap song. you applaud as well, keeping your eyes on rafe despite knowing he won't look at you, not until he gets in the ring, some sort of superstition that he's developed as he keeps his head down.

the other fighter comes out to the booming announcement of their name, a silly nickname you immediately disregard. clearly someone trying to rise the ranks and become a well known name, but you can tell just by his stature that rafe will take him down.

you breathe a little sigh of relief as rafe climbs into the ring and looks over to you, a slight smirk you're sure only you can see. he knows just as well as you do that this will be an easy day.

the official facilitates the handshake between the opponents before they're back to their corners to tape wrists and put on gloves, getting everything prepared. you keep your eyes on rafe, of course, taking in his every movement.

you feel a stirring in your stomach as he stands, tank top stretched tight across his body while his shorts are looser, allowing him to move easily around the ring.

you hear a woop coming from the back but know better than to divert your attention, rafe surging forward right when the official starts the round. he wastes no time throwing quick punches before defending, stepping to the side to miss the opponents swipes.

rafe lands a few more blows, but you don't cheer yet. you've made the mistake before of thinking he's in the clear too early.

the movement of rafes body is almost a dance, one driven by passion. his biceps bulge with every punch, swear gathering on his chest, making your mouth water as you watch.

the officials whistle to end the round makes you jump, too wrapped up in rafes looks to pay attention to the fight like you know you should.

you really do try to shift your attention back, but as the next round starts, you're quickly drawn back to watching rafes body and smooth movements. 

every punch he throws makes your legs tighten further, hoping the pressing of your thighs offers you some sort of relief, but any comfort is fleeting.

your body responds for you when the fight comes to end, rising to your feet and clapping as you snap back to attention. rafe of course wins, the opponent not even getting a punch to his face other than a brief touch on his jaw that didn't even knock his mouthguard.

“i knew you'd win.” you smile and step forward as rafe comes to the ropes, leaning over to press his lips against yours.

“let me talk to the team and shower then we'll get out of here, yeah?” rafe kisses you again before leaning in to whisper into your ear. “i can tell you're turned on.”

--

“how'd you know?” you question as rafe shifts the car into drive, his free hand immediately coming to your thigh as he pulls out of the parking spot and onto the road.

“that you were- are turned on?” rafe smirks, keeping his eyes focused on the road ahead. “you get a look in your eyes, baby. and i can tell you want me.”

“and i have that look right now?” you hum out, turning the volume up on the radio slightly as the kid cudi song comes on.

“mhm. and it'll only intensify when i do this-” rafes hand slides upwards between your thighs. you quickly part them for him, letting out a soft moan as his fingers rub right where he knows you like it best.

“shit.” you lean back into the seat, trying to keep yourself from jumping over the center console and pouncing on rafe instantly. you pray you don't hit traffic as he presses harder on the gas pedal, ready to get home as well.

“you looked so pretty tonight cheering me on baby.” rafe pushes his fingers harder against your pants, creating tight circles. “even if you were spaced out the entire time.”

“mhm.” you hum, not even truly listening to what rafe is saying, just enjoying the tambor of his voice and the feeling growing in your stomach.

you know when rafe laughs that it's at you and your current state, but you've done far too much and been with him far too long to be embarrassed or ashamed by your lust as you let out another moan.

your eyes are glossy as you turn to look at rafe, hand gripping the wheel tightly with a clear tent in his sweatpants. you blink a few times to clear your vision as you take in his hard set jaw, tension building as he is forced to wait to get inside you.

you reach over to place your hand on rafes crotch, hoping the pressure of your hand sustains him a little longer.

“it's taking everything in me not to pull over and fuck you here in the car.” rafe says through gritted teeth.

you look out the windshield as rafe moves his hand to grip the steering wheel with both hands, needing it now that you're touching him to keep the vehicle steady. “we're almost home.” you hum out, petting your fingertips over his length, contemplating pushing his pants down and bending over the center console, but your clenching pussy needs him.

rafe pulls into the driveway at speeds he shouldn't be going inside a residential neighborhood, the car calming to a halting stop, and not even a second passes before you're out of your seats and out of the car.

rafe beats you to the front door, throwing it open for you to rush inside, locking it tight after you've entered.

you know you won't make it to the bed. you never do on nights like this. both on a high from rafe winning his fight, an easy opponent with not even a scratch to his knuckles.

rafe presses you against the wall of the hallway, his body molding against yours as his lips smash forward into a passionate kiss. you reach between your bodies immediately, knowing you're already soaking wet and ready from rafe playing with you in the car.

you push down on the hem of rafes sweatpants until rafe moves his hips and allows you to shove them down along with his underwear. 

rafe lets out a sigh as your hand wraps around his length, holding his cock in your grasp as you quickly begin to stroke.

“fuck, baby.” rafe places his fist around your hand. “as much as i love you touching me like this i need to be inside you now.”

there's a desperation in his voice that makes something in your chest tighten.

you nod and release him, undoing your button and zipper to shove your pants to the ground and kick them away. rafe grabs the hem of your tshirt before you can take it off yourself, pulling it up over your head before it also joins the clothes scattered around the foyer.

rafe connects your lips back together, his hands sneaking behind your back to undo your bra before pulling the cups off, large palms quickly replacing them as he holds your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze that has your mouth falling open in a satisfied sigh.

“bedroom, counter or right here?” rafe asks, pulling on your lip before you can answer and giving it a tug.

“right here.” you reach down and take rafes cock in your hand, giving it a stroke. “right here, right now.”

“mmm, don't have to tell me again.” rafes arms circle around you and pull you up, pinning you against the wall. your body moves so naturally like it's done a hundred times before, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

rafe lines up his cock with your entrance and sinks forward. your arms wrap around his shoulders and pull him in tight, mouth dropping open and eyes squeezing closed as he slowly enters you.

���oh god.” rafe groans, mouth opening as well, but to press his teeth against your skin, biting down gently so as to not actually hurt you, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin.

“fuck me rafe.” your fingertips are digging into his shoulders, trying not to pierce him with your nails as you grip onto his muscles, muscles he just used to pummel his opponent.

“fuck me hard.” you don't often ask for it hard or really give him any direction. rafe knows how to please you, but it's different today. you need his full force, everything he has left in him.

and he doesn't make you wait.

rafe pulls his cock out slowly before slamming in, forcing your ass back into the wall with a thud, your whole body shuddering as he thrusts.

you tighten your arms even more, needing your bodies to become one as he pumps his hips forward, the sound of skin meeting together spreading through the empty house.

tomorrow, you'll clean up the clothes off the floor. tomorrow, you'll make a large breakfast to replenish rafe from his fight and open every window in the house to let in light and air, but tonight, you're going to remain in the dark hallway with your legs wrapped around rafes waist.

“harder.” you beg again, even though you're not sure you can take it.

rafe complies, swinging faster as one of his hands manages to find a way between your bodies, tips of his fingers pressing against your clit. he knows he should fuck you longer, but he can build you up again for the second time in the bedroom, you've teased each other too much and he needs to feel you fall apart in his arms.

“you're so tight and warm.” rafe mumbles, burying his face in your neck as he huffs, absorbing your heart after being apart physically for too long, the cold air of the gym and locker room now being replaced with you.

“i love you.” rafe mumbles, lips against your neck as he presses a few kisses to your throat. “thank you.”

he doesn't need to say what for. you understand. for being with him, for encouraging him to try boxing, for standing by his side and knowing what's best for him even when he didn't know himself.

“i love you.” you moan out, pussy clenching around rafes cock as your high suddenly hits, back arching off the wall in pleasure only to be slammed back against it as rafe pushes as deep as he can go inside of you, the squeezing of your cunt triggering his own high as his cum spurts inside of you.

“f-fuck.” you whine, nails fully leaving marks now as you breathe deeply, chest rising and falling, pressing against rafes with every breath.

“let's go take a bath.” rafe says, his voice suddenly softer, almost like the sex was the last bit of excursion he needed to calm himself after the fight.

“okay.” you can't help but giggle.

despite your agreement, rafe doesn't pull out, his softening cock still inside of you and bodies connected.

“okay.” you repeat, pressing your lips against rafes cheek before resting your head against his, realizing what he needs in that moment. “i love you.”

you stay there, still, for minutes that stretch into what feels like hours, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

“okay.” rafe finally responds, eyes blinking with a new clarity, any sort of anger or frustration he had before the fight now freed from inside him. “bath time, yeah?”

[dreamscapeee222]

Could you write Arcane characters and reader fight. Who is the one to apologize first.

A/n: This took a while. I think I liked writing this one. I hope you like it too !!

Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

Masterlist

Vi

You’re pacing the apartment, arms crossed as Vi throws her jacket onto the couch, fresh bruises blooming across her knuckles.

"You promised, Vi," you say, voice trembling, though it’s unclear if it’s from anger or worry. "You said you’d stop throwing yourself into danger."

Vi exhales sharply, dragging a hand through her hair. "What do you want me to do? Sit back and let everyone fend for themselves?" Her tone is defensive, her walls already going up. "No, I want you to consider how I feel when you walk out that door like you’re invincible!" you shout, tears brimming. She flinches at your words but doesn’t respond, instead turning toward the door. "I need some air," she mutters, leaving before you can say another word.

Hours pass, and the apartment feels impossibly quiet without her. You’re curled on the couch when the door creaks open, Vi stepping in hesitantly. Her face softens when she sees you, guilt written all over her. "I shouldn’t have walked out," she starts, voice low. "And I shouldn’t have made you feel like you don’t matter. You do. More than anything." She sits beside you, her hand brushing yours. "I’ll try to be better—safer—for you. Just… don’t give up on me."

Jinx

The argument starts with something small—a misunderstanding spiraling into chaos, as things with Jinx often do. You’re frustrated, arms crossed as you say, "You can’t just act like nothing matters. You keep running off, leaving me to pick up the pieces." Jinx’s eyes narrow, her voice defensive. "Oh, so now I’m the problem? Maybe if you stopped trying to control me, I wouldn’t have to." Her words cut deeper than you’d like to admit. You shake your head, hurt threading through your voice. "That’s not what I’m doing, Jinx. I just want you to let me in." She scoffs, brushing past you with a muttered, "Whatever." The slam of the door leaves the room eerily silent.

Later, you find her sitting on the floor of her workshop, surrounded by half-finished projects. She’s fidgeting with a small gadget, but her movements are jittery, unfocused. When she looks up, there’s a flicker of guilt in her wide eyes. "I’m not good at this, okay?" she says suddenly, her voice soft but frantic. "I mess things up. I don’t mean to, but I do." You step closer, kneeling in front of her. "You didn’t mess up, Jinx. I just—" She cuts you off, shoving a tiny, lopsided trinket into your hands. It’s a crude carving of you two, rough but undeniably heartfelt. "I made this. I was mad, but I kept thinking about how much I hate when we fight." Her gaze drops. "I’m sorry. I don’t want to push you away. You mean too much to me." You wrap your arms around her, and she clings to you like she’s afraid you’ll disappear. Her whispered, "Don’t hate me, okay?" is a quiet plea that you’ll never stop reassuring her about.

Caitlyn

The fight begins when Caitlyn forgets to show up for dinner, something you planned weeks ago. You’re sitting at the table, the candles burned low, food cold on the plates when the door finally opens. She looks exhausted, her uniform slightly disheveled.

"Caitlyn," you start, your tone sharper than you intended. "You didn’t even send a message." Her brow furrows. "It was work—there was an emergency. You know I can’t just drop everything." You stand, crossing your arms tightly. "I get that your work is important, but do you ever think about us? About me?" Her expression falters, but instead of conceding, she doubles down. "This isn’t fair. I’m doing everything I can to keep things safe—for all of us." The tension snaps, and you turn away, muttering, "Maybe you’re better off with someone who doesn’t need you to show up."

The silence that follows is deafening. Caitlyn doesn’t respond but leaves quietly, and for the rest of the evening, the apartment feels colder without her presence.

Hours later, the door creaks open again. You’re curled up on the couch, pretending not to notice her until she speaks softly. "I thought about what you said," she begins, sitting on the edge of the couch beside you. "And you’re right. I haven’t been showing you how much you mean to me." You glance at her, catching the guilt in her tired eyes. She reaches for your hand. "I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I’ll do better. For us." Her sincerity melts away your hurt, and as you lean into her touch, she adds with a small smile, "And next time, I’ll at least bring dessert as an apology."

Ekko

The argument begins when Ekko overworks himself again, pushing past limits you’ve warned him about. He’s been up for hours, fixing up a broken clockwork mechanism, his hands trembling with exhaustion.

"You promised you’d take breaks," you say, stepping into the workshop, frustration clear in your voice. "You’re going to burn out, Ekko." He doesn’t look up, his jaw tightening. "I don’t have time to stop. The Undercity needs this, needs me." You cross your arms. "And what about me? Do I even matter in your world of never-ending responsibility?" His head snaps up at that, brows furrowed. "That’s not fair. You know I’m doing this for a reason." The hurt spills out before you can stop it. "Sometimes it feels like I’m just waiting on the sidelines for scraps of your time." You leave before he can respond, your heart heavy.

Hours later, you’re in bed, staring at the ceiling, when there’s a soft knock on your door. Ekko steps in hesitantly, holding a small gadget you’ve seen him working on before—a music box. "I made this for you," he says quietly, setting it down beside you. The melody that plays is soft and familiar, something that always calms you. His voice cracks as he speaks. "I messed up. You’re not on the sidelines—you’re the reason I keep going. I just… don’t know how to balance it all sometimes." You look at him, the sincerity in his eyes cutting through your lingering anger. He sits on the edge of the bed, his hand brushing yours. "I’ll do better. For you. I swear." The fight doesn’t disappear instantly, but as you lean into him, you know you’ll figure it out together.

Jayce

The fight begins when Jayce cancels plans at the last minute—again. This time, it was supposed to be a rare, quiet evening together, but his work at the Council dragged him away.

You stand in the kitchen, arms crossed, as he walks in late that night. He looks tired, but you’re too frustrated to care. "Did you even think to tell me you weren’t coming?" Jayce sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was swamped. Things ran over—what do you want me to say?" "I want you to say you actually care," you snap, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. His expression shifts, hurt flickering across his face.

"That’s not fair," he counters, his tone defensive. "You know I care about you. But this work—it’s not something I can just walk away from." You shake your head, stepping back. "Sometimes it feels like your work is the only thing that matters to you." You leave him standing in the kitchen, retreating to your room and shutting the door behind you.

When you wake the next morning, there’s a soft knock on the door. Jayce steps in, holding a small tray with coffee and your favorite breakfast. His sheepish smile doesn’t quite mask the regret in his eyes. "You’re right," he says, setting the tray down. "I’ve been letting work take over, and that’s not fair to you. To us." He hesitates before sitting beside you. "I hate fighting with you. Please let me make it up to you." You sigh, leaning into his warmth. "You have to actually try, Jayce." His arms wrap around you, his voice soft. "I will. You’re more important to me than anything else. I’ll show you that."

Viktor

The argument starts after you notice Viktor pushing himself too hard again. His lab is dimly lit, a cluttered mess of papers and prototypes, and he’s leaning heavily on his cane while adjusting a mechanism.

"Viktor, you need to rest," you say firmly, stepping into the room. "This isn’t sustainable." He glances at you briefly but doesn’t stop. "There’s too much at stake to rest," he replies, his tone clipped. "You know that." You cross your arms. "I also know what happens when you push yourself past your limits. You can’t keep doing this to yourself." Viktor stiffens, his frustration bubbling over. "And what would you have me do? Sit idle while everything crumbles around me?" The sharpness in his voice stings, and you take a step back. "I just want you to take care of yourself for once," you say quietly before turning and leaving the lab.

Later that evening, you hear a knock on your door. When you open it, Viktor is standing there, looking apologetic, a faint tremor in his hands. "You’re right," he says, his voice softer now. "I’ve been careless with myself, and that’s not fair to you. Or to us." He hesitates, as though searching for the right words. "I never want you to feel like I don’t hear you. I just… get lost sometimes." You step aside to let him in, and he takes your hand gently. "I’ll try to be better—for you. For both of us." His sincerity melts the tension, and as you sit together in the quiet, you know he means it.

Mel

The argument begins with Mel’s tendency to keep her emotions guarded, leaving you feeling shut out again. It happens during dinner, her silence heavy as she focuses on her work instead of you.

"Do you even care about this relationship?" you ask, the words escaping before you can stop them. Mel’s head lifts sharply, her calm demeanor cracking slightly. "What kind of question is that?" she replies, her tone cool but defensive. You press on, frustrated. "You never let me in, Mel. It’s like you’ve already decided you don’t need me." She sets her utensils down with precision, her voice clipped. "And you’ve decided to make this about you. I have responsibilities that extend beyond personal feelings." The words sting, and you shake your head. "Maybe I should stop trying if you’re not willing to meet me halfway." You leave the room before your voice can break.

The next morning, Mel finds you sitting by the window, your face turned toward the city. She approaches quietly, holding a small, beautifully wrapped box. Without a word, she sets it down beside you. Inside is a delicate bracelet, the design intricate and unmistakably hers. "You’re not wrong," she admits softly, sitting beside you. "I’ve built walls to protect myself, but they’ve shut you out. That wasn’t my intention." Her hand reaches for yours, her touch tentative. "I care for you more than I’m able to show sometimes. Please, don’t doubt that." You turn to her, the vulnerability in her expression easing the ache in your chest. "I don’t need grand gestures, Mel. I just need you." She nods, her voice firm but warm. "And you’ll have me—every piece, no matter how long it takes."

See pinned.

[bandgie]

Stuffing to Give

warnings! MDNI18+, fem!reader, AGE GAP, reader has an asshole family, hickeys (brief mention), cumming inside, Yunho bites once, clothe tearing, no protection, size kink if you squint, Yunho says 'young pussy', stomach bulge mention

3.5k words

notes! sorry I've been gone, life or whatever. buuutttt happy holidays! this fic took me too long but for being in a drought, I'm proud of it. hope you enjoy :) (divider from @/anitalenia) tag! @desirehorizon

“You know, you should be looking for a husband. Not worrying about your classes or anything like that. No man likes a woman too smart for her own good.”

It was your mom who opened the can of worms during Thanksgiving. The air was already uncomfortable being that distant family who were more like strangers sat at the dinner table, but mentioning that you’ve been single for so long, at such an ‘old age’, made everything a thousand times worse. 

You’re not even old. Some would argue being in your mid-20s was still very young. 

But no matter how much you’ve tried to defend yourself. No matter how many times you said you just wanted to focus on furthering your education, your aunts and uncles pressed one and one thing only. 

Your uncle lifted his fork to his greasy lips, the white meat of the turkey forcing itself into his already stuffed mouth. “Y’know, your youth will only last you for so long. You’ll end up an old cat lady and regret not settling down.”

Regret. You hate that word, as if these people know anything about you, let alone have a right to say how you should live. The food you're trying to swallow feels too big for your throat. There’s a burning in your chest. A feeling you’ve tried desperately to suppress since the holidays started. 

Anger. Hate. Hurt. Disgust. Fear.

You don’t want to be here anymore. 

Dramatically, you throw your fork on the table. The silverware clatters harshly against your plate and bounces until it lands on the other side of the table. The chatter stops immediately, all eyes on you as you stand so quickly the chair topples to the ground.

A pin could drop and it would echo in the quiet room. 

“You know what? Fuck this. Fuck you. I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with me getting knocked up. It’s fucking weird. Get off my dick.”

Aunts gasp. Some Uncles laugh. But your mom, her eyes are so wide and shocked as if she wasn’t the one who started this whole issue and didn’t do anything to defend you. 

Her own daughter. 

“And you.” You look at her, but it’s hard when your vision blurs. “When I do find a husband, and when I do have kids, don’t expect to hear from me.”

Voices call your name as you turn away. Someone tries to hold you back by the forearm, but you tear from their grasp. Your only goal is to get the fuck out of there, heading for the front door and slamming it on your way out.

It’s cold. A gentle breeze blows your hair as you turn to the side of the house. The crunch of leaves sounds on the ground therapeutically. You can’t help but look at the pretty orange and brown beneath your feet. It’s the only thing keeping your frustrating tears from falling. 

But you don’t see that there’s already someone at the side of the house with your gaze on the ground. You forget how close the houses are in this neighborhood.

“Bad day I take it?”

You lift your head, surprised to see someone already at your spot. The sun is setting despite the early hours. The only thing illuminating his face are the porch lights. His cheekbones are high. His brown hair is decorated with a few gray strands, framing his handsomeness perfectly. His lips curve into a smile, but more friendly than humorous. 

Shit, you’re staring. “Oh you know, just family butting in when they shouldn’t.”

He grins at that. “Ah, good ol’ holiday joy. I can’t stand them either. Pretending they know me when they don't.”

Relief settles on your shoulders. At least you aren’t alone. “I know right? They change my diaper once and suddenly think they know what’s good for me.”

The man laughs. His smile lines deepen at his lips and his eyes close for a brief moment. You smile at him.

“I know the feeling all too well.” He studies you when he opens his eyes again, gaze dropping to your nylon-covered legs and the cut of your dress. He travels up to your face smoothly. “What was your name?”

It takes a second for the effect of his gaze to fade, but you manage to tell him. “I’m studying Chemistry right now. On my way to getting a Masters.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh wow! That’s really impressive! You look too young to have all that under your belt already.”

His compliments make you burn. “Oh, thank you. I just study hard.” You tuck a strand of hair that blows annoyingly in your face. “And you are...?”

“Yunho.”

You furrow your eyebrows together. “You know? No, I don’t think I do.”

He looks just as confused, but then realization settles on his face and he laughs again. This time, he clutches his stomach and bends over, getting close to your bubble. Not that you mind, you like the smell of his light, earthy cologne.

“No- not ‘you know.’ Yunho. Y-U-N-H-O.”

That smile is still on his face when it clicks in your mind. You feel your face burn from embarrassment, covering your mouth with cold fingers. “Oh my god. I’m such an idiot. Yunho. Okay, I get it.”

You’re still burning when he chuckles again, deep and velvety. “No worries. I think that’s the first time that’s happened to me.”

The two of you laugh once more before you settle into silence. The quiet doesn’t last long when he asks, “So why are you out here? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Maybe it’s the warm, pleasant feeling in your stomach from talking to Yunho, but you don’t have an ounce of hesitation in telling him. “My family has always bugged me about starting a family. The moment I graduated high school, it’s like the only thing I’m good for now is popping out babies.”

Yunho scoffs. His jaw clenches attractively and you hate how your legs press together upon the sight. 

“I know completely where you’re coming from. Trust me, that nagging never goes away. I’m already well above my prime and my brothers still bother me about finding a wife. With all this gray hair? I don’t think the ladies would want an old man like me.”

A demon must possess you because you speak before you can even think. “What? Yunho, I know we just met, but you’re like…very attractive. Finding a wife won’t be hard for you, even if you think you’re old.”

The lift of his eyebrow says it all. He’s shocked, at the very least. He stands straighter, towering over you. You hadn’t realized he was leaning against the wall to appear smaller, but his height stuns you.

He cocks his head to the side. “You think so?”

It takes a moment to gather your thoughts. His defined chest shows through his black turtleneck, nipples pebbling in the cold. His lithe arms wrap over his chest, adding to the clothed cleavage. If his upper body looks this good underneath clothes, you can’t even imagine anything less.

“I…” Fuck it. “Yeah. I do. You’re tall, handsome, fit, and some chicks dig older guys.” 

He scoffs a little, but it’s more from embarrassment than pride. His full cheeks blush further and you know it’s not from the cold. If you manage to play your cards right, you can ditch your family dinner for a different type of feast.

Yunho’s smile turns darker, more sinister as he looks down at you through his bangs. “Oh yeah? What type of chicks?”

“If you want to get specific, maybe the one standing in front of you.”

His grin deepens. Bingo.

-

His car is nice. Like, really nice. The seats are leather and he's got interior lights that shine when he opens the passenger car door for you. 

What a gentleman. 

But it’s his flat that impresses you the most. The ones you see are usually in the movies, either too small for any average person to live in or big enough for a whole town. Yunho has the latter.

You want to compliment him. Or more so, ask what type of job he has to afford all this space, but the large hands on your back push you to the bedroom and remind you why you’re here in the first place.

He doesn’t bother closing the door when you two make it to his room. Yunho cranes his neck down, lips ghosting over your own before he finds your neck instead. You lean to one side, hands going up his back trailing to his hair that you intertwine with your fingers. His mouth is so warm on your cold skin. It has you shaking for a brief moment before you get used to his heat.

Yunho starts with pecks. His lips feel plush and delicate, causing your flesh to rise with goosebumps. He moves to the center of your neck and kisses there too, but just when your eyes are starting to flutter shut and your mouth opens to sigh, he bites. 

You gasp instead. “Ah! Yunho!”

He doesn’t pull away from your throat, but you can feel his body jolt with giggles. He presses his kisses harder where his teeth marked you, a tiny apology you grow wet from. The two of you are still standing mere inches from the bed, but you don’t want to part from him. Yunho’s leg fits perfectly snug between your thighs and though you aren’t grinding, your cunt likes the warmth it provides. 

But you can feel it throbbing. The aching for any tiny movement, but you force yourself still save for how you keep pressing yourself against him.

Yunho makes you feel so small. His hands feel as if they could hold you easily, and they seem to do that with your lower back. Long fingers dig into your skin, and it doesn’t take long for his hands to travel further down until he finds the fat of your ass.

He takes a moment to stop giving you hickeys and groans into your shoulder. “So fucking soft. Your ass looks so good in this dress.” He swipes his tongue from your collarbone to the place below your ears. Your nipples harden almost immediately, the wetness makes you cold for a moment.

“You should see how it looks without it on.”

Challenge sparks in his eyes when he raises his head to look at you. All it takes is a reassuring nod from you before he pulls away almost completely, save for the hands squeezing your ass.

“On the bed then. Let me see.”

You smile and pry his hands off you, lifting your dress above your hips, but not off your body completely. You turn around for Yunho to face your back, hands finding the bed so you crawl on the bed for him to see. Your knees are on the edge, but finding balance is easy when you arch, wiggling your ass in the air.

The nylons are still on, but the see-through fabric adds a layer of sexiness. Yunho’s fingers graze your ass, stuck on squeezing and spreading your cheeks. It makes your pussy lips move with it, opening and closing against your clit softly. 

It’s such a tiny movement to your pussy, but with how you’ve been ignoring its leaking, it feels like so much more. You moan in the sheets, gently rocking yourself back and forth to try and get Yunho to spread your ass more.

“Jesus Christ.” He puts his thumb on your pussy, guiding it against your slit until he finds the bundle of nerves underneath your nylons and underwear. “I can feel how wet you are. You need it real bad, huh?”

His fingers are muted from the layers of clothes, but that doesn’t stop you from whining. You press back until his thumb is hard against you, swiveling your hips for friction. 

“Yesyesyes. So bad. I want your cock.”

His one thumb turns into multiple fingers. You sing with pleasure, showing no shame as you ride his hand until you feel the subtle, but familiar feeling coil in your stomach. Your styled hair is now a mess as it covers your eyes from how hard you’re rocking. Though you can’t see, you can feel the arousal leaking down your thighs and gather at your nylons.

Your orgasm comes quickly. It gets easy to grind on his fingers when your body is desperately chasing the high. “Cumming! Fuckfuckfuck, I'm cumming.”

You lift yourself on your forearms, halting all your movements to let the blinding pleasure wash over you, hot and delicious. Moans tumble past your lips. The tiniest bit of drool seeps from your mouth as you shake. You rock again, this time, to milk out your orgasm to completion. 

But Yunho pulls away.

A desperate cry leaves you. “W-wait. M-more. I want m-”

Familiar hands push you back into the sheets. Yunho holds you by the back of the neck, forcing you to keep your trembling ass in the air. 

Your heart races. More gasps and heavy breaths filter through your chest, but it’s an excitement that bubbles in your stomach. So much adrenaline runs through your body that half of the shaking is from your nerves. 

You just know he’s going to fuck you good.

“You came on my hand and you’re already asking for more?” Yunho tuts. “So impatient, but don’t worry, you’ll get it. Girls like you love cumming their brains out, huh?”

There’s no denying that. You nod in the sheets and whimper a pathetic yes, but Yunho approves nonetheless.

“Yeah, that’s why you’ll take any cock you can get, right? Even if it’s a stranger…” His free hand smoothes over your ass, but once he finds a good grasp on your nylons, he yanks. Your entire body pulls back from the force. You have to grab onto the mattress to not slip off the bed. 

“Even if it’s a man who’s almost twice your age…”

Another harsh yank and you hear fabric tear. Yunho pulls and pulls until your ass and cunt are free from the material. It’s only your underwear in the way, but you doubt that’ll be a problem.

Yunho leans down until he’s at your ear. Your body breaks into chills. He feels everywhere. He is everywhere from how big he is. You know you’re safe, but the thought of being at his mercy heightens your pleasure.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll buy you a new one.” He sweetly pecks your head and pulls away.

You’d laugh from the drastic switch-up, but you moan instead when you feel his fingers at your cunt. He plays with your folds through your panties, poking where your entrance is and smearing the arousal staining the underwear. 

You’ve never been this wet before. It usually takes some lube or way more foreplay, but Yunho turns you on in ways you didn’t believe were possible. His deft fingers and how his brown eyes can be warm but threatening. Everything about him is captivating and you can only hope he thinks the same about you.

With a finger hooking to the side of your panties, he tugs until your bare cunt is finally freed. You clit peeks from your hood, throbbing between your lips desperately. 

For the first time since you’ve met him, you feel nervous. Yunho stares at your pussy longer than you’re used to, making you try and press your thighs together to hide it. 

“Nuh-uh.” He jiggles your ass. “Don’t do that. I wanna see your pussy.”

You whine but obey. You put yourself face-first into the bed, ignoring how your cheeks turn red. 

Soon, the bed shifts weight and you hear the sound of a zipper. You pick up your head to look back, but Yunho forces you to face the bed. 

You pout. “I wanna seeeee.”

“You just want everything, don’t you?” Yunho sounds condescending, but he rewards you with the head of his cock. Your lower lips wrap around his tip when he grinds against your pussy, making sure to keep your underwear out of the way. “You want to cum, you want my dick, you wanna see it…And the worst part is, you’ve got such a pretty pussy that you’ll get everything you want.”

Yunho pulls back just enough to line himself up. You still haven’t gotten over how his tip felt brushing against you. He’s slicked himself up nice and wet to press, intruding on your entrance. 

You squeal. His shape opens you so easily that his size doesn’t sting at all, but makes your brain fuzzy. Though Yunho won’t let you see, you know he’s big. You turn dumb too quickly, chest burning from the oxygen he fucks out of you when he buries himself to the hilt. 

‘Oh my-...fffuucckkkk.”

Yunho groans at your moaning. He opts to hook his thumb in your panties and splay the rest of his fingers on your ass. Messily, he gathers your hair to create a makeshift ponytail with his other hand, forcing your chest up. 

Out... In... Out... In…

The pace is slow, but that doesn't mean it’s dull. Yunho pulls out until his tip is barely inside before pressing back in. When his pelvis is flush against your ass, it has you kicking your feet up and down on the bed from the overwhelming sensation. 

He feels like he’s in your ass. In your throat. You can’t escape how deep Yunho drills into you when he keeps you still by the hair, forcing you to take every unbearable inch.

You love every second of it. 

“Nghhh. Yunnhooo. Fuck meee. Fuck me pleeasseee.”

The sound of your cunt squelching echoes in the room. Yunho grunts at your command, pulling you up a few inches. 

“Yeah, you want it? You want it? Then fucking take it.”

It’s like a switch. That cautious pace turns animalistic, rough, and quick until your breasts manage to slip from the top of your dress and bounce freely. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat. There’s no sound until a harsh thrust forces the moan out. Once you start, you can stop. All you can manage are gasps and whines from Yunho’s drive. 

Every vein, every curve doesn’t go unnoticed between your walls. The repeated pistons force you to know his shape. You know he’s carving a place for him. So deep and good that you don’t think you could ever go back to hookups at your university again. 

But it’s Yunho’s tip that does it for you. There’s no you could ever unknow how it kisses your cervix or how the shape digs into you. You can't stop clenching down on it, sucking it back in over and over despite the pleasure overload you’re enduring. 

Your pussy’s in loooove.

The haziness of your mind clears a bit when Yunho pulls you up more. Your fingers barely graze the mattress, but the pain in your scalp feels dull when you look into his eyes.

They’re dark, hungry, and possessive. There’s nothing but carnal desire when you dreamily look up at them, eyes losing focus rather quickly. 

“You’re gonna cum. I fucking know you are. You cunt’s so fucking loud, it’s begging for it again.”

You swoon. Yunho knows he can make you feel good, he can feel it. Something like affection burns in your chest and you look at his pink lips. 

He grins. “You want a kiss?”

You nod, but it must look silly since your entire body is jolting. 

Yunho looks borderline psychotic when he breaks out into a smile. “Fuck. I love how young and stupid your pussy is. I’m gonna cum all over it. You’d like that, huh?”

“Loooveee iiiit.”

Yunho quickens his pace. You swear if you look down, you could see his cock poking through your stomach from the angle. Instead, you’re held to look into his eyes, vision blurring as your second orgasm approaches. It’s so much more intense than your first. Now you have something to clench on. Something to cream on when you inevitably burst. 

And with your crossed eyes looking into his, you do. You feel a burst of warmth from your stomach speedily reach your pussy. It makes you feel hot, the even hotter arousal pooling down your thighs and onto Yunho’s cock.

He moans above you. His hips grow sloppy, hitting different parts of your cunt that have you squealing. Yunho doesn’t break eye contact when he stills in you, dick throbbing as his cum shoots inside. 

The two of you stay moaning into each other's mouths, lips a mere inch away until he finally gives you what you want. The kiss is sloppy, full of breaths and moans as you messily shove tongues inside.

He swipes the inside of your cheek. He twists his tongue with yours until salvia trickles down your chin. You suck on his muscle and he does the same, pulling away with a wet smack that leaves you buzzing.

Yunho stares at you for a beat, eyes blinking as he comes to a sudden realization. “I think I'll keep you.” 

You don’t have the energy to respond, but you're thinking the same thing.

[its-avalon-08]

Idk if your doing requests but if so could I request something where reader and Lando have been together like since they where 19 or something but a long time, and they have a fight that over something stupid but it escalates and Lando snaps frustrated and says maybe they need a brake and tells her to leave. She is heartbroken, and when Lando tries to get in contact with her, she won't answer, worrying Lando as she ignores his calls clearly. Then, Lando freaking out, thinking it's over and the one person in his life that he loved more than anything is gone. Carlos coming over to get some of readers things but Lando is heartbroken more at that, and when the reader comes back to the apartment after no contact for a week, she packs her clothes, but Lando panics and starts apologising. Happy ending, please, though. Sorry if it's long.

cracks in forever (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, comfort, break up

The night felt colder than usual, and the warmth of their shared home seemed suffocating. Y/N stood in the kitchen, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound as she waited for Lando to come home. He was late again—hours this time—with no texts, no calls.

When the front door finally opened, she didn’t rush to greet him. Instead, she stayed rooted in place, her arms crossed as he walked in, his jacket slung over his shoulder, looking more frustrated than apologetic.

“You’re late,” she said flatly, her voice strained.

He glanced at her, his brows furrowing. “Yeah, I know. The day ran long.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

Lando sighed, dropping his bag by the door. “What do you want me to say, Y/N? I’m sorry. Happy?”

Her jaw tightened, her chest already aching from the weight of the argument that hadn’t even begun. “You didn’t even think to call me, did you? Or text? I’ve been sitting here for hours, wondering if you were okay, and you couldn’t even bother to let me know?”

His frustration flared. “I didn’t realize I needed to check in like a teenager. I’m fine, obviously. You could’ve just assumed that.”

Her eyes widened, the sting of his words hitting hard. “Do you even hear yourself? You think it’s too much to let me know you’re not lying in a ditch somewhere? God, Lando, it’s not about checking in—it’s about respect!”

“Respect?” he shot back, his voice rising. “I’ve been busting my ass all day trying to juggle everything, and you’re standing here acting like I don’t care about you because I forgot to text? Give me a break, Y/N.”

Her lip quivered, but she forced herself to stand tall. “This isn’t just about today. You’ve been distant for weeks. I feel like I’m screaming into a void, trying to hold us together, and you’re not even trying anymore!”

“Maybe because I’m tired of feeling like I’m failing all the time!” Lando snapped, his voice louder now, his hands gesturing wildly. “Nothing I do is ever good enough for you!”

Tears filled her eyes, spilling over as her voice cracked. “Don’t you dare turn this on me. You think I like feeling like I’m begging for scraps of your attention? You think I like crying myself to sleep because I don’t know if you even want me around anymore?”

Lando froze for a moment, her words piercing through his anger. But instead of softening, he doubled down, his own frustration clouding his judgment. “What do you want me to say, Y/N? That I’m perfect? That I have all the answers? Because I don’t! Maybe—” He stopped, clenching his fists. “Maybe we just need a break. Maybe that’s what we need to figure this out.”

Her breath caught, the words cutting her like a knife. “A break?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You want me to leave?”

“I don’t know, okay?” he shouted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “Maybe we just need space. I can’t do this anymore—this constant fighting, this pressure.”

Her shoulders shook as she tried to steady herself, but the tears wouldn’t stop. She wiped at her cheeks, her voice breaking. “You know what? Fine. If I’m such a burden to you, I’ll go. I’ll make it easier for you.”

“Y/N, that’s not—”

“No,” she cut him off, her voice rising with the hurt that burned in her chest. “You don’t get to say things like that and take them back. You don’t get to hurt me like this and then act like it’s nothing. I’ve been here, Lando. I’ve been here for you. Through everything. And now you’re telling me I’m too much for you?”

Her words hit him like a freight train, but his pride kept him silent. He didn’t know how to fix it, didn’t know what to say.

She shook her head, tears still streaming down her face. “You want space? Fine. Have it.”

Y/N stormed past him, grabbing her keys and bag. Lando turned, his heart sinking as she reached the door.

“Y/N, wait—”

But she didn’t. She slammed the door behind her, leaving him standing alone in the silence of their home.

The regret hit him almost immediately, but by the time he picked up his phone to call her, she was already gone.

--

Title: Cracks in Forever

Lando barely slept that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face—tear-streaked, devastated, and broken. He replayed the argument over and over, his words echoing in his mind like a cruel reminder of his failure.

“Maybe we just need a break.”

How could he have said that? How could he have pushed her away when she was the only constant in his life?

His phone sat on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with unanswered texts he had sent throughout the night. He had called her twenty-seven times—each one going to voicemail.

By morning, the bags under his eyes were heavy, his chest aching as if he’d been physically hit. He stared at his phone, scrolling through their old messages. He read her texts from the last few weeks, the ones he had brushed off or responded to half-heartedly.

Y/N: Good luck today! Call me after, okay? ❤️ Y/N: Hey, are you alright? You seemed off earlier. I’m here if you need to talk. Y/N: I miss you, Lando.

He clenched his jaw, tears blurring his vision. He had been so blind, so caught up in everything else that he hadn’t realized how much she had been hurting.

He hit her contact again, pressing the phone to his ear.

Ring… ring…

“Hey, it’s Y/N. Leave a message.”

The beep sounded, and his voice cracked as he spoke. “Y/N, please. Just… please call me back. I know I messed up, okay? I know I hurt you. But I can’t— I can’t do this without you. I need to know you’re safe. Just… let me know you’re okay. Please.”

He ended the call, his hands shaking as he set the phone down.

By the second day, his panic had reached a breaking point. She hadn’t been to their place, hadn’t responded to any of his messages, and her social media was silent. He sat on the edge of their bed—the bed that still smelled faintly of her perfume—and buried his face in his hands.

The phone rang in his hand, but it wasn’t her. It was Max.

“Mate, are you okay?” Max’s voice was cautious.

“No, I’m not okay!” Lando snapped, his voice breaking. “She’s not answering, Max. She’s not answering, and I don’t know where she is, and I don’t know if she’s okay.”

“Have you tried her friends? Her family?”

“I don’t want to drag them into this,” Lando said, wiping at his face. “This is my fault. I need to fix it.”

“You can’t fix anything if you break yourself in the process,” Max said gently. “Just give her time.”

“I don’t have time, Max!” Lando shouted. “What if she thinks I don’t love her? What if she thinks I meant it when I said we needed a break?”

“Didn’t you?”

The question made him pause, his breath hitching. “No. God, no. I was angry. I was frustrated. I didn’t mean any of it.”

“Then tell her that. Keep trying. She loves you, Lando.”

Lando nodded even though Max couldn’t see him. “She did. I don’t know if she does anymore.”

That night was worse than the first. Lando sat on the couch, his head in his hands, the silence of their apartment a cruel reminder of what he had lost. He picked up his phone and called her again.

Ring… ring… beep.

“Y/N,” he choked out, his voice shaking. “Please. Please pick up. I’m losing my mind over here. I don’t know where you are, and I’m scared. I’m scared I’ve lost you, and I can’t—” His voice broke, a sob escaping him. “I can’t lose you. I love you. I love you so much. I don’t care about the fight, I don’t care about anything but you. Just… just come home. Or call me. Please, Y/N. I’m begging you.”

He hung up, his shoulders shaking as he buried his face in his hands. For the first time in years, Lando Norris cried. He cried for the girl who had been by his side since they were teenagers, the girl he had built a life with, the girl he had pushed away.

And he cried for the possibility that he might never hear her voice again.

--

The doorbell rang, and Lando’s heart skipped a beat, though he couldn’t explain why. He wasn’t expecting anyone. It was too early for anyone to check in on him.

But when he opened the door, there stood Carlos Sainz, a look of concern etched on his face. His eyes softened when he saw Lando, but there was a quiet tension in his posture.

“Carlos…” Lando started, his voice hoarse from the sleepless nights.

Carlos looked at him, his jaw tightening. “I’m here to grab some of Y/N’s things.”

Lando stepped back, letting Carlos in. His apartment felt emptier than it ever had before, each room echoing with the absence of Y/N’s warmth. Carlos entered, his gaze scanning the space, lingering on the couch where they had spent so many nights together, the kitchen counter where they’d cooked meals, the small details that once made the place feel like a home.

“You’re really going through with this, huh?” Carlos asked quietly, his voice laced with disappointment.

Lando swallowed hard, his eyes avoiding Carlos’s. He had never wanted it to come to this. He never thought it would. But now, standing here in the emptiness of the apartment, the reality of the situation hit him harder than ever.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” Lando muttered, his hands shaking. “I didn’t mean to push her away, Carlos. But she… she wouldn’t talk to me. She just… she left. She hasn’t even answered my calls.”

Carlos shook his head, his face hardening with frustration. “You don’t get it, do you, Lando?”

Lando looked up, surprised by the venom in Carlos’s tone. “What do you mean?”

“She’s my childhood friend, man,” Carlos snapped, his voice rising. “I’ve known her since we were kids. I’ve seen her go through everything, and I’ve watched her give you everything, and you—you—treated her like this? Like she’s disposable?”

Lando’s chest tightened at the accusation, but Carlos wasn’t done.

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you, how much she cares for you,” Carlos continued, his voice breaking as he ran a hand through his hair. “And you—you—just pushed her away like she was nothing. Like she wasn’t the person who was always there for you, who stuck by your side through everything, through all your races, all your highs and lows.”

Lando’s heart sank. He could feel the weight of Carlos’s words sinking deep into him. He knew he had screwed up, but hearing it like this—coming from someone who knew Y/N like Carlos did—made him realize just how badly he had messed up.

“I didn’t mean for her to think she wasn’t enough,” Lando whispered, his voice barely audible. “I love her. I always have. I just… I don’t know what happened. I was frustrated, and I said things I didn’t mean. I didn’t want to hurt her, Carlos. I swear to you.”

Carlos’s gaze softened, but his disappointment was still evident. He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. “You hurt her, Lando. And now, you have to fix it. But she’s not just going to come back because you say sorry. You’re going to have to fight for her. And honestly, I don’t know if you’re ready to do that.”

Lando looked down at the floor, tears welling up in his eyes as the guilt hit him full force. He knew Carlos was right.

Carlos reached for the duffel bag by the door, picking it up and unzipping it. “I’m just getting her stuff. I told her I’d bring it by. But you…” He paused, looking Lando in the eye, his voice quiet but firm. “You need to think long and hard about what you want. And if you want her back, you need to prove it. Because right now? You don’t deserve her. Not after what you did.”

Lando felt his heart crack at the truth in Carlos’s words, and his voice trembled as he whispered, “I know.”

Carlos hesitated for a moment, then turned and grabbed a few of Y/N’s things from the shelf, placing them into the bag. He looked back at Lando one last time before heading for the door.

“You’ll figure it out, mate,” Carlos said quietly, his voice softer now. “But you’d better start trying, and fast. She won’t wait forever.”

Lando nodded, unable to say anything. He was already too choked up, the weight of the past few days crashing down on him.

Carlos walked out the door, leaving Lando standing there, broken and alone.

Lando stared at the door for a long time after Carlos left, his thoughts swirling, the pain of losing Y/N gnawing at him from the inside out. He needed her. He couldn’t live without her. But the real question was—would she still want him when he finally realized just how much she meant to him?

And how could he prove to her that he was worthy of a second chance?

--

It had been a week since she left. A week of silence. A week of empty calls and unanswered messages. A week of Lando spiraling, his world without her a place he didn’t recognize anymore.

Now, here he was—sitting on the couch, waiting. He knew she would come back at some point. Y/N never stayed away for too long. But the anxiety had eaten away at him, each passing day a reminder of how badly he had screwed up.

The door opened, and he could hear the soft click of her heels on the hardwood floor. His heart skipped a beat, but when he looked up, his breath hitched in his throat.

Y/N was standing there, her back straight, her face expressionless. In her hands was a suitcase—half-filled.

She was packing.

“Y/N…” Lando’s voice broke as he stood up. His chest was tight, his hands trembling slightly. “What… what are you doing?”

Y/N didn’t answer. She simply moved past him and into their bedroom, not sparing him a glance. Lando’s stomach twisted.

“Please, Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. He followed her to the bedroom, his eyes not leaving her. “Please, don’t do this. We can fix this. We can talk.”

She didn’t respond, not even a flicker of acknowledgment. It was like he wasn’t even there.

Lando stood by the door, frozen. He watched as Y/N picked up clothes from their closet and threw them into the suitcase without a single word. Each piece she grabbed felt like another piece of his heart being ripped away, like she was disappearing right before his eyes.

“Y/N, please… talk to me.” His voice shook with desperation, but she still said nothing.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he stepped closer, his chest tightening with the fear that she was really going to leave.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know I hurt you. I know I was a mess. I should’ve been better. I should have been better for you. I shouldn’t have said those things, and I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I was angry, and I didn’t know how to handle it, but I swear to you… I swear I love you. I always have. And I need you. Please, please don’t leave me.”

Y/N didn’t stop packing. She moved mechanically, and the silence between them felt suffocating.

“I was scared,” Lando continued, his voice growing quieter, more raw. “I was scared that I wasn’t enough for you. That one day, you’d realize you deserve someone better than me. And I pushed you away because I didn’t know how to let you in. But I do love you. I do. And I’ll do anything to prove it to you. Anything.”

She picked up another piece of clothing, folding it with such precision that it made Lando’s heart shatter.

“No, no, no…” Lando whispered, panic rising in his chest. “Please, Y/N. Don’t do this. Please, I can’t lose you. I know I’ve been an idiot. I know I hurt you. But you are my heart, and I can’t let you walk out of that door without knowing how much I need you. Without you, I’m nothing.”

He was shaking now, the weight of his words settling into the pit of his stomach. His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with emotion.

“I can’t breathe without you,” he choked out, his eyes glossy with tears. “I’ve been waking up every day wondering how I could have been so stupid, so selfish. But all I know is that I love you. I need you. And I don’t want to spend another day without you in my life. So, please… please don’t leave me. I’ll fix it. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right. Just… don’t walk out that door. Please, don’t leave me alone.”

The words hung in the air, and for a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of her folding clothes and his heavy breathing.

Finally, Y/N stopped moving. She didn’t turn to face him, but her shoulders trembled, and Lando could feel the weight of the silence press against him.

“I know you’re angry,” Lando continued softly, his voice breaking. “And I understand that. But I can’t lose you. I can’t lose the one person who knows me better than anyone. The one person who loves me no matter what. You’ve been my constant, Y/N. And I don’t deserve you, but I’ll do everything to show you that I want to be better. For you. I’ll be better, just… don’t leave.”

There was a long silence. Then, almost imperceptibly, Y/N set down the last piece of clothing in the suitcase and turned to face him. Her eyes were glossy, but she said nothing.

Lando took a step closer, his heart pounding in his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. But I can’t imagine my life without you. You’ve always been my best friend. You’ve always been there for me. I don’t deserve you, but please… please don’t walk away. I need you more than anything.”

And that was when Y/N finally broke.

A single tear slid down her cheek as she looked up at him, her eyes full of so much pain that it shattered him.

“You hurt me, Lando,” she whispered, her voice small but raw. “You hurt me so badly. I don’t know if I can just forget that. I don’t know if I can go back to what we were. But I…” She choked on the words. “I love you, too. I just… I don’t know if I can trust you again.”

Lando’s breath hitched. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t.

“I swear, I’ll never hurt you again,” he promised, his voice full of sincerity. “Please… let me show you. Let me prove it to you.”

Y/N wiped her eyes, still unsure, but there was something in Lando’s eyes that made her pause. Something raw. Something that made her think—maybe this wasn’t the end.

“I don’t know if I can just forget what happened,” Y/N said, her voice shaky. “But I do want to try again. I want to believe you, Lando. I want to believe that we can fix this.”

Lando’s heart soared as he rushed to her side, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“I swear, I’ll spend every single day proving it to you,” he whispered into her hair, his tears falling freely now. “I’ll make it right. I’ll never take you for granted again. I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.”

And for the first time in days, she let herself breathe. She hugged him back, the warmth of their embrace a promise that maybe—just maybe—they could get through this together.

It wasn’t perfect. But they had each other. And that was all that mattered.

--

It had been a few days since everything had fallen into place. Y/N and Lando were slowly rebuilding their bond, piece by piece, and while the tension between them had melted, something was still different. The scars of the fight remained, but Y/N wasn’t thinking about it anymore. The past was behind them. She was focused on the present.

But Lando? Lando still couldn’t shake the feeling that any moment, she might walk out again. It wasn’t that Y/N had given him a reason to doubt her, but the guilt gnawed at him constantly. He had hurt her so deeply, and no matter how many times she reassured him, the fear lingered. What if one day, she grew tired of him? What if he wasn’t enough for her?

Tonight was supposed to be just another quiet night in. Lando had arranged a cozy dinner, hoping to make her smile, to show her how much he loved her. He’d gone all out, buying a fancy dress he thought she’d look amazing in. Maybe, just maybe, if he gave her something beautiful, he could make up for the ugliness of the past.

When Y/N walked into their living room, he was holding the dress in his hands, eyes brimming with hope.

“Lando,” she smiled softly, as she entered, sensing the warmth in the air. “What’s this?”

“Just—just something for you,” he said, a little shy, as he handed her the dress. “I know it’s a bit much, but I thought… well, you’d look incredible in it.”

Y/N laughed, though there was something oddly sweet and bittersweet in her eyes. She looked up at him, still feeling the remnants of their past conversation, yet no longer letting it weigh on her.

She took the dress from his hands and examined it, grinning at the fabric.

“You really don’t have to do this,” she said, her tone playful but tender. “I’m happy just being here with you.”

Lando felt his heart race. He wanted to keep proving himself, to show her how sorry he was. But deep down, his insecurities kept churning. What if this wasn’t enough? What if it wasn’t going to be enough?

Y/N noticed the flicker of unease in his eyes. She stepped closer, putting the dress down on the couch.

“Lando…” she began, her voice soft but firm. “You don’t need to keep doing this. You don’t need to keep going all out just to make me happy. You don’t need to prove anything.”

Lando froze, the words hanging in the air, yet it felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him.

“But I want to,” he said quietly, as though trying to explain the reason behind his actions, his voice trembling. “I need to make it up to you, Y/N. You deserve so much better than how I treated you.” His voice cracked with emotion. “I don’t know how to fix it. But I need to make it right.”

Y/N’s heart ached, seeing how much he was carrying. She stepped forward, reaching for his hand, but his nerves kept him at arm's length.

“Lando, I’ve already forgiven you. I don’t need grand gestures or endless apologies. I just need you,” she said, her voice steady and full of love. “I want you. Just the way you are.”

Lando looked up, but the pain and doubt still clouded his eyes. He shook his head, feeling as though he could never do enough to atone for the way he had hurt her.

“No, I don’t deserve you,” Lando whispered, his voice barely above a sob. “I’ve been an idiot. I hurt you, and I don’t know how to forgive myself. Every time I see you, I feel like I’m not enough. That one day, you’ll leave. And I—”

Before he could finish, Y/N launched herself into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and she buried her face into his neck.

“Stop,” she whispered softly, her hands gently brushing his hair. “You’re my baby, Lando. I’m not going anywhere. I love you. Don’t you see that?”

Lando froze for a moment, his whole body tensing as her words hit him like a wave. Her voice was so tender, so sure, that it broke through the wall of self-doubt he had built around himself. He didn’t know why he had been so scared.

“I need you to stop thinking I’m going to leave,” she continued, her voice firm and comforting at the same time. “You’re my home. You always have been. I’m not going anywhere, Lando. I love you so much, it hurts. So, please, stop trying so hard.”

Lando’s heart melted in her arms as he clung to her, desperate to make sense of everything he had been feeling. “But I hurt you, Y/N. I hurt you so badly. I didn’t know how to fix it.”

Y/N tilted his face to look at her, her fingers gently wiping away his tears. “We’re fixing it, Lando. We’re here. Together.” Her voice softened even further. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re my world. You’ve always been. And nothing’s going to change that.”

Lando’s breath hitched as he buried his face in her hair, holding her tighter, like if he let go for even a second, she might disappear again.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her skin, the words a soft plea in the air. “I promise, I’ll do better. I’ll be better for you. I swear.”

Y/N laughed, the sound like music to his ears, and pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. “You don’t have to be perfect, Lando. You just need to be you. And that’s more than enough for me.”

Lando looked at her with a mixture of love and relief in his eyes, finally feeling like he could breathe again.

She smiled, her hands cupping his face gently. “You’re mine, Lando. Forever. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry for ever making you doubt that.”

Y/N kissed him softly, then pulled back just a little, her smile soft and content. “I love you, too, Lando. Always.”

And for the first time in days, Lando believed it. He believed in them. He believed in her. And as he held her close, he finally let go of the fear that had gripped him for so long. She wasn’t leaving. They were in this together.

Forever.

[zweetpea]

Yandere Batfam X reader p2

Feat. the batfam! (Jason, Dick, and Barbara)

Part 2 of this!

Will be making a part three with Echo's birthday!

Tags: @sirentheblogger @xiqn04 @wpdarlingpan @midnightgrimoire @fantasyhopperhea @torye @sammydaboii @couldeatthatgirlforlunch @tatsuri-zomushiki @degenerates-posts @lostsomewhereinthegarden @ladylupuscrow @sheep-from-rad @pi1nkl0ver @roseytheteacup @justannie18

if you weren't tagged for some reason pls comment and i'll figure out how to fix it

You had been dropping Echo off for about half a year now. 

For some reason every time you had dropped echo off Damian was the one who answered the door, despite the fact that he hated you. He even once told you that he’d rather have a wanted thief as a step mother than you.

Regardless, today he wasn’t the one to open the door. It was a tall man who had jet black hair in a hairstyle reminiscent of MatPat. He was rather muscular and had big blue eyes. He just stared at you with wide eyes and a slightly agape mouth. His outfit was kind of basic: just a white tee shirt, a blue racer jacket, and some navy blue jeans.

“Um… hello?” You pulled Echo closer to you while the tall new man stared at you awkwardly.

“Hi… Hi! Uh, hi! I’m Richard but my siblings call me Dick.” He smiled nervously and held out his hand to shake.

You ignored his hand. “Well, siblings can be cruel.” 

Dick suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “Heh, yeah.”

“So where’s the terror tot?” You said monotonously. 

“You mean Damian? Him and Bruce left for a gala in Switzerland last night.” He smiled shyly at you.

You facepalmed and sighed. “Why didn’t he tell me?” You pouted, very annoyed at your baby daddy.

Dick sensed your anger and tried to distract you. “Well Bruce asked me and Jason to look after our sister!”

You stepped back slightly. “Sister?” You tilted your head cautiously. 

“Hold on! We're doing what?!” Another man popped in from the doorway. He was slightly taller than Dick and had dark black hair with a long strip of white and blue eyes. He was wearing a worn-down bomber jacket, a black t-shirt and black ripped jeans.

Dick glared at him. “We’re helping take care of our little sister, JASON!”

He looked at you and propped one arm above his head against the door frame. He smirked at you and chuckled. “Oh so you’re the lovely lady Bruce can’t shut up about. Though I can’t exactly blame him. If you were mine I don’t think I’d ever let you go.” He looked you up and down with hooded eyes.

You and Dick gave him disturbed looks. Dick was the first to speak up. “Jason, stop being disgusting!” Dick smacked him on the back of the head.

“Can you blame me? She’s a beautiful woman! And she’s far too young for Bruce.” Jason looked at his older brother bored and slightly irritated. 

“I’m standing right here you know!” You growled, very vexed.

Jason smirked again. “I know. How about you come inside and keep me company.” 

She handed Echo over to Dick. “I’m late enough as it is. If I keep this up I’ll have my pay docked.” She turned to walk off.

“I have a trust fund! You could be my sugar baby!” Jason called from the doorway. 

“You are so disgusting.” Dick glared at Jason. 

Jason scoffs. “She’s hot. Plus I’m not wrong! She’s way too young for Bruce.” 

Dick brought Echo in and set her on the couch. She had gotten used to the place thanks to Damian so she didn’t cry without her mom. She did try to crawl away when Dick started to scold Jason. She almost fell off the couch when a certain redhead caught her.

“You both are idiots.” Barbara held Echo under the little baby’s arms.

“BABS!” Dick came over and gave her a side hug before taking Echo. “When did you get it?” 

She smiled. “Alfred let me in through the service door.” She had her hair tied back like usual and a green turtle neck sweater. She flopped herself on the end of the couch near where Jason was standing and smirked at him. “You boys would be lost without me.”

Jason glared at her. “Oh shut up!”

“Jason, be nice. We could really use the help Babs.” Dick sat next to her.

“I know.” She giggled. “So this is Bruce’s latest pet project?”

Jason sat perpendicular from them in the recliner. “You shoulda met her Ma, Barbie. She was a smokeshow. Way too hot for Bruce. In fact, I believe it’s my duty to take her for myself to make sure Bruce doesn’t get canceled for this inappropriate relationship.”

“JASON STOP!! You’re being inappropriate!” Dick scolded.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Oh shut up! I saw the way you were looking at her! You act all high and mighty but you actually want to do exactly what I’m saying!”

Dick blushed and looked away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jason and Barbara could tell he was lying from the way he furrowed his brow. “She’s Bruce’s. He already called dibs and I’m not going to go behind his back. And you know what? I’m going to make sure you don’t either, JASON!!”

“Fine! Fine. Let’s just take care of the kid.” Jason grumbled and leaned his head against his fist, resting against the armrest of the recliner.

Barbara looked at him. “She’s not just a kid. She’s your sister.”

“Whatever!” Jason threw his hands up.

A little later Echo started crying so the three of them took her into the Kitchen.

“So what do babies eat?” Dick asked.

Jason shrugged. “I have some burritos from last night.”

Dick looked away thinking for a moment. “Well Echo can’t have solid food so you’ll have to put it in the blender.”

Jason shrugged. “If you say so.” He picks up Echo.

“THE BURRITOS NOT THE BABY YOU IDIOT!” Dick screamed. 

Barbara ripped Echo out of his hands. “Idiots, both of you. She left instructions for how to help Echo feed.” Barbara gave Echo her bottle and she started to suck. The littlest Wayne drank every last drop and Barbara burped her.

Dick smiled and gave her a thumbs up. “Wow! You’re amazing with her! You’re a natural!” 

“Thank you, Dick.” Barbara leaves to put Echo into her nursery. 

A few hours later you come to pick up Echo.

“Uh, Hello.” You grabbed your baby from Barbara. “It’s nice to see that she was in actually capable hands.”

Jason gasped. “Dick and I are plenty capable!”

You deadpanned at him. “Maybe so but Barbara was the first person in history to be awarded the Wayne Institute of Technology’s Scientific accolade while she was still in high school. I was very impressed with your work, Miss Gordon. Keep it up and someday you’ll be running Wayne enterprises for sure!” She shook Barbara’s hand and walked off with Echo.

Jason smirked and nudged Dick as Barbara was left their star struck. “I’ll share her with you.”

Dick looked down at his younger brother. “Deal.”

[sparkle-b00mb0y]

The Accident/ Katsuki bakugo accidentally hits you and you come home to him crying 😢

The argument had spiraled out of control. You and Bakugo had been yelling for what felt like hours, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. He was pacing back and forth, his frustration written all over his face, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke.

“Why can’t you just let this go?!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the room.

“Because you’re not even trying to understand where I’m coming from!” you shot back, standing your ground.

“I am trying, damn it! But all you ever do is—” His hand flew out in an exasperated motion, and before either of you realized what was happening, his palm brushed against your cheek—not hard, but enough to make your head turn slightly.

The room went silent.

Your eyes widened as the shock of what had just happened sank in. It wasn’t intentional, but it didn’t matter. The sting on your skin wasn’t what hurt the most—it was the look of anger still etched on his face, quickly replaced by horror when he realized what he’d done.

“Shit,” he breathed, his hands dropping to his sides. “I didn’t mean—”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you stepped back instinctively, your heart aching in a way you hadn’t expected. “You… you hit me,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I didn’t—It wasn’t on purpose!” Bakugo stammered, his voice panicked now. “I was just—”

But you didn’t wait to hear the rest. The pain in your chest was too much, and the tears spilling down your face made it hard to see clearly. You turned and grabbed your coat, rushing out of the apartment without another word.

Hours passed as you wandered aimlessly, trying to make sense of everything. You knew Bakugo hadn’t meant to hit you, but it didn’t erase the hurt or the shock of it. The memory replayed in your mind over and over, making the ache in your chest worse.

Finally, when the cold night air began to bite at your skin, you made your way back to his apartment. Part of you wasn’t sure what you’d find when you opened the door, but nothing could have prepared you for the sight that greeted you.

Bakugo was sitting on the floor, his head in his hands. His broad shoulders were shaking, and muffled, broken sobs filled the quiet room.

“Katsuki…” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His head snapped up, his red, tear-streaked eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, neither of you moved, and then he scrambled to his feet, stumbling toward you.

“You’re back,” he choked out, his voice hoarse. “I—I thought you weren’t going to come back.”

The sight of him—so raw and vulnerable—made your chest tighten. “I just needed some time,” you admitted, your voice wavering. “I didn’t know how to feel about what happened.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking again. “I swear I didn’t mean to. I’d never hurt you on purpose. I—I was so mad, and I wasn’t thinking, and—” He stopped, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as his tears continued to fall. “I’m so sorry.”

You stepped closer, your own tears spilling over as you reached out to him. His breath hitched as you placed a hand on his arm, grounding him.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” you said softly. “But it still hurt, Katsuki. It scared me.”

His expression crumpled at your words, and he fell to his knees, gripping your hands tightly. “I’m the one who’s supposed to protect you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “And I messed that up. I don’t know how to make it right.”

You knelt down with him, squeezing his hands. “We’ll figure it out,” you said gently. “But we need to talk about this. We can’t just let it go.”

He nodded, his grip on your hands tightening as though he was afraid you’d disappear again. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” he promised, his voice steady despite the tears. “I just… I can’t lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” you said, pulling him into a hug. He clung to you like his life depended on it, burying his face in your shoulder as the weight of the moment settled between you.

In that embrace, you both silently vowed to work through the pain together, to rebuild the trust shaken by that one fleeting moment.

[azullumi]

"cause love's such an old-fashioned word" ; scaramouche

premise — scaramouche was everything but an honest man; he has unusual ways of showing that he cares, cloaking it with the melody of his language that seemingly contradicts his actions, hinging on the absence of a beating heart in his chest.

content tags and warnings — pairing: fatui harbinger!scaramouche (w/ gender-neutral reader) | more than friends but less than lovers idk, mentions of blood and wounds, fluff, reader is part of the fatui, small banter, secret pining somewhat, not proofread | wc: 2.1k ; one-shot

a/n — this was a draft from nearly two years ago … so the writing style is different

Little drops of blood gushed down your skin, the fabric of your clothes tainted with a crimson hue. You were weak and limping, your hand clutching the side of your stomach, as you entered the clinic—silent and seemingly lonely as there was no nurse or doctor to tend to your wounds. You didn’t bother thinking as to why, only focusing on your predicament at the moment.

You pull out a chair with your other hand to the table which had the shelving unit of all the things you needed: medicine and bandages. You took out some disinfectant and enough roll of bandage as you sat down to finally treat yourself.

Carefully taking off some of the articles of your clothing, even the fabric that was wrapped around your leg, leaving you in your pants, boots, and undershirt, you grimaced at the sight of your own wounds. Ranging from several small cuts to a few ones that will surely leave a scar, adding more to the collection on your skin; quite a miracle that you haven’t passed out from blood loss or completely died due to it.

You know someone who wouldn’t be too happy, however—albeit he was never happy, at least as it seems—if they see your state at the moment. And as if right on the cue the door of the clinic bursts open.

A man, hostility seething from his demeanor, which you could completely feel as tension started to make its way to the corners of the room and there was a weight in the atmosphere. You didn’t have to look to know who it was as you could just tell from the footsteps, harsh stompings of soles against pavement, and the light chimes of ornaments that accompanied it.

The news of your return must have reached him quite quickly, you thought. A figure shadows over your own and a voice coming from above you was heard, “I told you not to go and yet you still did.”

You sigh, “Lay off my back, will you?”

“Are you stupid? Do you even use your head or is it all for display?” Oh, he was angry. It was evident in his tone when he spoke, his expression contorted into one of visible frustration but deep beneath the cracks of his features lies something distinct, a line of light that breaks the shadows of his face. Scaramouche was fluent with his own language: harsh words that seemingly bites you to disguise his worry. “What if something worse happened to you? The least you could have done with your idiotic brain, if not disobey my orders, was to take someone with you.”

You failed to notice the falter in his tone when he uttered his question, only looking up to him for a moment and asked, “What are you even here for?” then ultimately focused back on your bloody problem, lifting your injured leg to rest your ankle on the chair that was placed conveniently near you. You could imagine the roll of his eyes at your question, opting not to answer but to disappear from your presence for a moment before you heard the sound of wooden legs of another chair being dragged against the floor. It stopped right in front where you sat and Scaramouche settled on it.

“Give me your leg.” There was a shift in his demeanor as he spoke and you divert your attention away from your leg to look at him, the movement of your hand applying pressure on your wound came to a halt. The anger that was in his tone had disappeared and to be replaced by a placid one—perhaps he had given up on any plans of scolding you, knowing that his words won’t heal your wounds. Although, there were still traces of frustration seen on his features but it was faint, too faint, as he dons a mask of what was akin to calmness, vaguely tainted with worry.

“What?” You cock an eyebrow at him and the man huffs in annoyance, then pats his thigh as an answer which only earned a firm ‘no’ from you.

It was his turn to raise his eyebrow at you. “What do you mean no?”

“Just leave me be.” Your tone betrayed the words that you spoke.

“Wow, am I hearing this right? I’m doing you some kindness and you’re telling me to leave.”

“I can do this on my own.”

He scoffs, “Yeah, said by the one who is on the brink of death right now. Stop being stubborn and give me your leg.”

“You’re exaggerating. I’m fine.” You weren’t on the brink of death, not totally. Okay, maybe it feels like several parts of your body are going numb, maybe you could feel the blood dry up on your skin, maybe you’re just so exhausted and all you want to do is to lay down and close your eyes, but you weren’t on the brink of death. Maybe.

For the first time ever since the moment he entered the room, there was silence. You thought that he was finally going to leave you alone but no, no, no, definitely not. Scaramouche didn’t budge, he didn’t move from where he sat; he held his gaze at you, unwavering—he was waiting, waiting, and waiting. It was a silent war and you were fighting a losing battle.

You groaned and lifted your leg, letting your ankle rest on top of his thigh, giving him a clear view of the small yet nasty stab wound that you got from when your opponent caught you off guard. From here, he could finally see the several other cuts and bruises that embellished the other parts of your skin. He took the cloth from your hand (and the warmth from his fingers that brushed against yours lingered for a few moments) and began to apply pressure on your wound with it.

“You’re quite bothersome.” His voice, low, ruptures the silence that started to nurture itself in the walls of the clinic. Despite what he’s saying, he never removed his hand from your leg. He even cleaned your wounds—reaching for a bottle of disinfectant, pouring enough of it over the cloth to drench it, and gently dabbing the fabric on the area. Scaramouche thinks you’re a piece of work, a burden, yet he’s here with you, continuing to bear your weight on his hands.

“And I don’t get you sometimes.” You mumble your reply and he didn’t show any indication of having heard you. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t react, he just moved to bandage your wound before he began treating the other unattended ones. You watched him as he took your injured hand (you thought he was going to hold it and the way your heart fluttered at the notion made you hold your breath for a second) and treated the scrape wounds that were found on it. All the while, he was silent, seemingly focused on his task.

You just don’t get him sometimes, and you say the word ‘sometimes’ as if there were occasions that you did understand him—and as if you were meant to understand anything anyways. Scaramouche was everything but an honest man. He was a complex puzzle himself, his existence composed of mismatched pieces that seem to fit together; he was a walking disaster, a hypocrite, and a set of complicated scriptures that cannot be deciphered.

Scaramouche, whose middle name was contradiction (a puppet who tries to be human), pushes everyone away yet grabs your wrist when you try to leave, tells you that you’re infuriating and annoying but lets you linger in his presence, has an obvious dislike towards everyone but seems to leave you as an exception. He has an unconventional way of showing that he cares, lying on the boundary between the feeling of unorthodoxly and a show of conformity—oftentimes, the line blurs into one. A jarring harmony of a familiar yet distant song.

And with all your thoughts formed and meshed into a single image, you’re left thinking that he’s unfair.

Everything around you was pristine white—the soft kiss of snowflakes falling to the ground below you and the trees, adorned in their winter attire, cradling the weight of snow on its branches. It was a sight that you are all too acquainted with; the land of Snezhnaya was covered by an eternal blanket of white, the region constantly tormented by blizzards.

It was cold, very much so. It was evident from the shiver that ran along your skin and how you could see your breath. You regret not putting on more layers of clothing—archons, if you weren’t going to wear your coat, you could have at least worn your gloves. You were reprimanding yourself inside your mind, scolding yourself for being careless and stupid for thinking that you’re already used to the weather. You couldn’t even find the time to admire the flakes of snow that descends from the sky, which is what you came out for.

“Feeling cold?” A voice, seemingly laughing at your predicament, erupts through the silence with a tone that seems to mock you.

Scaramouche stands not far away from you, looking completely unbothered nor unaffected. He dons a familiar expression on his face, apathetic and uncaring—there was nothing else different from him, save the white coat that he only wears when he is called to one of those meetings. You remember his remark on how the addition of such clothing is stupid and unnecessary when the only thing he’s going to do there is either stand, sit, roll his eyes, and make an infuriating comment.

“Perhaps you should have brought your coat,” the harbinger doesn’t dance on pity that was as faux as the fur that decorates the shoulders of his own, “you know how cold this place can be.”

You groan, “Shut up.”

A breeze kisses your skin, sending a cold chill all over your body. Scaramouche doesn’t fail to notice this, although you don’t see how his eyes furrowed at the sight of you shivering.

Having a pyro vision would be so nice right now, the thought of being able to kindle such warmth to soothe yourself from this freezing cold would be so convenient. A wave of jealousy crashes over you, the tide of your envy growing stronger the more you think about it. Maybe it would be better to just return and not stay outside any longer; snow wasn’t a rare thing in Snezhnaya, you could just admire them another time when you’re layered and covered in comfort and warmth.

It is not until you feel something weighing heavily on your shoulders and the entirety of your back that the thought is erased from your mind, replaced by something warm instead. The warmth of it eases into your bones, seeping and embracing, unable to control the sigh of relief that escapes your lips.

“Don’t get the wrong idea.” Scaramouche says, stripped off his coat now that you wear it.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Good.”

You don’t speak anymore, swallowing the words that threaten to emerge out of your throat, afraid that he’ll change his mind and just decide to let you freeze here. Although the silence that settles, like snow beneath your feet, doesn't last long as you’re consumed by the monster of your curiosity.

“Were you looking for me?” Why else would he be here with you right now? You didn’t know him as the type of person to just go out and bask in the glory the landscapes and climates of Snezhnaya has to offer.

“You weren’t in your office supposedly doing your own work.” Scaramouche says in a matter-of-fact tone. He’s talking as if your office wasn’t actually his, as if the work you were supposed to do wasn’t his papers left unfinished on his desk, as if he’s telling you that everything he owns is yours to have.

You don’t answer, and something lies, seemingly dormant, in the air that embraces you and you find yourself waiting for something to happen. But nothing does.

So you still, admiring the delicate dance of snowflakes and the endless white that consumes the entirety of your vision, tainted with the hues of purple and red of the man that stands beside you. It reminds you of dusk; he always reminds you of the sun as it drowns in the horizon, painting warm colors on its endless canvas of this cold place.

You think fate is some kind of sadist who loves watching you suffer as you mull over such thoughts, but it’s not fate. It's sadism that makes you hold onto him despite everything, it’s you and that stupid feeling that makes its way to your chest whenever he’s close to you like this; it’s you and that word you wouldn’t even dare think of, much less say.

dududududuun @felibrary its been so long since i’ve done this oh my god i hope i dont accidentally confess my undying love (platonic) to you. anyways, i don’t know how many times i have to thank you for being such an amazing, silly, beautiful, sweet, loving friend who will match my freak (which is the typos and the stupid things we do). but hey, i hope you know that i will always be with you (scary or loving, whatever) and you will never get rid of me girl NEVERR you know too much of me already !! i think we know too much of each other but i don’t think it’s enough because we have a lot of time ahead of us, and there are still things we are bound to discover of ourselves, and it’s comforting to know that i’ll get to spend those with you. and yeah, life doesn’t seem too bad now that we have each other. ilysmmmm <33

© AZULLUMI. plagiarism of any form and type, stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms is NOT permitted.

[buckets-and-trees]

Red, White & True: Athens to Miami [6/?]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Bucky Barnes Word Count: 7.5k Summary: How will finding out about Jeff affect your marriage? The situation also brings you both to consider how long you can keep going on playing Mr. and Mrs. Rogers to the public. Steve also questions whether upcoming campaign plans will help or hurt.

Content/Warnings: marriage of political convenience, slow burn

Notes: I left you with a bombshell at the end of the last chapter, but FEAR NOT because I drop you in immediately where we left off. This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Previous Chapter | Series ↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

PREVIOUSLY... You take a steadying breath, then look up at Steve and say, “Jeff Connor is my former husband.”

[SEPTEMBER 28 - AFTERNOON CAMPAIGN FLIGHT FROM ATHENS TO MIAMI]

Some eyes had been on you, but now all of the staff turn to look at Steve to gage his reaction to this statement. His mouth is slightly open, a storm in his blue eyes, but he doesn’t say anything.

You consider him for another moment, then pull out your phone, scroll to Jeff’s name in your contacts, and hit the call button. As the call starts to connect, Bucky leans over to whisper something in Steve’s ear. Steve frowns and shakes his head. Bucky shares a glare with him, then gets up and leaves the staff cabin.

As your call rings through to Jeff, you also stand, but you leave the staff cabin in the other direction, passing through to the private area that only you and Steve have total access to - anyone else needing to knock or be invited in.

You’re about to close the door when Steve catches it and follows in behind you.

You two exchange a look, both of you evidently trying to give nothing away about what just happened, and then you turn away to look out the window just as Jeff picks up on the other end of the line, answering with your name in an urgent and concerned tone.

"Hey, Jeff," you respond, keeping your voice neutral despite the tension you feel. You can feel Steve's presence behind you, a silent but palpable force in the small cabin.

"I'm so sorry," Jeff's voice comes through the phone, sounding genuinely distressed. "I didn't mean for any of this to get into the press. I swear I had no idea."

You take a deep breath, willing yourself to stay calm. "What happened, Jeff?"

There's a sigh on the other end of the line. "I was at a barbecue at Mark and Sarah's last night. You remember them, right? From our old neighborhood?"

"Yeah, I remember," you say, a flood of memories from your previous life washing over you.

“I hadn’t heard from them in a couple of years, but they reached out, and I thought it would be nice to reconnect. Started talking to a new guy, I’d never met him before, figured it was one of their neighbors. He seemed nice enough, we got to talking about work, hobbies, life. I had no idea he was from TMZ and definitely didn’t know he was recording our conversation,” anger bleeds through the tail end of his explanation.

You sigh. You have no reason to doubt his story. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? No, I’m sorry! I was stupid saying anything to a stranger, and more stupid for even going to the party at all.”

“What? No, Jeff, I’m sorry because a choice I made is impacting your life. It’s not fair that you’re getting targeted by press, especially tabloids.”

Jeff is silent for a beat, and then he says. “He paid Mark and Sarah to get access to me.”

Your heart feels sick. “How did you-?”

“Lawyers from your campaign called me an hour and a half ago when TMZ put it up online to question me, they called back twenty minutes later with confirmation of the money trail.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again - because you are, and because you don’t know what else to say.

Jeff sighs heavily on the other end of the line. "Stop apologizing," he says, his voice soft but serious in his directive. "This isn't your fault."

You lean against the window, watching the clouds drift by below, a stark contrast to the turmoil you feel inside. "But it kind of is, Jeff. The press is only interested in you because we were married."

"That doesn't make it your fault," he insists. "The fact that some tabloid vultures want to profit off our past relationship isn't on you."

There's a moment of silence on the line, filled only by the faint hum of the plane's engines. You can feel Steve's presence behind you, a silent sentinel.

"You okay?" you ask finally.

"I'm... I'm mad. And disappointed - in myself and in them. I feel like an idiot. I should’ve known it was a weird time for them to reach out after not seeing them for so long."

"Jeff, you couldn't have known that. You assumed good intentions. It’s part of what makes you who you are.”

The words came so easily out of your mouth, but once they’ve been said, your chest aches, and part of you wishes you could take them back.

You don’t know what he’s thinking on the other end, but you know it can’t be easy for him either, because he only manages a small, “Thanks,” and then there’s another pregnant pause between you.

Jeff clears his throat, breaking the silence. "Did I mess anything up for the campaign? I know how important this is, and I'd hate to think I've caused any problems."

You shake your head, even though he can't see you. "No, Jeff. If anything, your comments were probably the best-case scenario. You were kind and respectful. It's hard for anyone to spin that negatively.”

There's a soft chuckle on the other end of the line. "Well, I guess all those years of you drilling the importance of tact into me finally paid off, huh?"

You can't help but smile. "You never needed me for that."

"You know," Jeff says, his voice taking on a thoughtful tone, "it's kind of amazing to see you in action like this. I mean, I always knew you were capable of great things, but if this works out, I can’t wait to see what you do in action as First Lady.”

“Thanks, Jeff,” you reply, a lump rising in your throat. “Listen, I better go.”

“Yeah, me, too,” he says. “Take care.”

“And you,” you reply. “Bye.”

You hang up the call, and for a moment, you just stand there, staring out the window at the clouds below. The weight of the conversation, of the past and present colliding, settles heavily on your shoulders.

Finally, you turn to face Steve. He's leaning against the cabin wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. The silence between you is thick with unspoken questions and emotions.

“You heard all of that, right?” you ask, knowing some of his senses are enhanced through the super soldier serum that changed his body eighty years ago.

He nods.

You sigh and take a seat on the arm rest of one of the chairs, no longer wanting to stand, but not wanting to be fully seated while he’s still standing. “I thought you knew about Jeff. It’s in my file.”

One of the first things meetings for you joining the campaign had been to sit down with Jake, the head of the campaign, Elsa the communications director, and your assistant Sophia, to review the opposition research file that had been compiled for you - everything that an opponent could potentially try to dig up from your past and attempt to attack you or the campaign with. Your marriage to Jeff had been part of that.

Steve's jaw clenches, and he looks away for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "I... I never read your file," he admits, his voice low and tinged with regret.

You had suspected as much given how he reacted to learning about Jeff, but the confession still hits you like a wave, leaving you momentarily speechless. A kaleidoscope of emotions swirls within you - surprise, confusion, a hint of hurt, and something else you can't quite name. The plane's engines hum in the background, filling the silence between you.

You study Steve's face, taking in the furrowed brow, the slight downturn of his lips. His blue eyes, usually so clear and determined, now hold a mix of guilt and uncertainty. It's a vulnerability you've rarely seen in him, and it catches you off guard.

"You never read it?" you question, your voice barely above a whisper. The implications of his admission begin to unfold in your mind, and it feels like pulling on a thread, unravelling a piece of what you thought had developed between you.”Why?”

"I trusted Pepper," he says softly.

The cabin suddenly feels smaller, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions. You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, there's a sharp knock on the cabin door.

“Come in,” Steve calls out.

The door swings open, revealing Bucky. His expression is a mix of concern and frustration as he strides into the cabin, a thick manila folder clutched in his metal hand. The soft whirring of the arm's plates adjusting is audible in the tense silence.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Bucky says, his voice a low growl as he thrusts the folder at Steve. "I can't believe you never read this."

Steve takes the folder, his fingers curling around the edges. The weight of it seems to surprise him, and he glances down at it with a furrowed brow. "Buck, I-"

"Save it," Bucky cuts him off, running a hand through his long hair in exasperation and then turning to address you. "I just found out before you made your call that this punk never bothered to look at your file. I’m sorry, I didn’t raise him to be so inconsiderate.”

Steve scoffs, “Raise me? You’re only one year older than me!”

In other circumstances, you would laugh at this exchange, but in this moment you can’t, your mind absorbing each new and shifting moment.

Bucky rounds back on his best friend. “I read it, Steve. I read every damn page because I wanted to make sure you weren't getting played or walking into a situation you’d regret. But you? You just went along with it, no questions asked?"

Steve's jaw clenches, his grip on the folder tightening. "I trusted Pepper's judgment. She wouldn't put someone in this position if she didn't think they were right for it."

"Right for what?" Bucky challenges. "The campaign? Or you?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy with implication. You feel your heart rate quicken, very aware of your presence in this conversation about you.

Steve's eyes flick to you for a moment before returning to Bucky. "Both," he says quietly.

Bucky shakes his head, looks at you and gives barely a quarter of a smile - seemingly all he can manage, and then leaves the two of you alone again.

Steve's eyes meet yours, a mix of emotions swirling in their blue depths. "I trusted Pepper," he says softly, his voice tinged with a hint of regret. "When she told me about you, about this arrangement, I didn't want to reduce you to a file full of facts and figures. I wanted to get to know you as a person, not as a dossier."

He strides further into the cabin and takes a seat across from you. "I thought it would be more... genuine that way. To learn about you through our interactions, through the campaign, through..." he trails off, gesturing vaguely between the two of you.

“It has been. Even if we got a slow start.” Both of you know you had taken turns keeping your guards up at various points over the past four months. You slip down properly into your seat.

“We’ve been talking more with each other, about each other, though, so I have to ask… Is there a reason you’ve never brought up your divorce?”

You clasp your hands in your lap, but you continue to hold his gaze, even though your heart constricts painfully. “Aside from thinking you did know about him, it didn’t naturally come up, and I wasn’t eager to just drop one of the most painful pieces of my past into our conversations because it wasn’t a divorce.”

Steve’s brow furrows even more. It’s no wonder the man has developed so many worry lines.

“I was smitten from the moment I met him, and he loved me back the way you grow up dreaming about your future husband - only it was even better because it was real. Everything about it was so normal and real. We dated, we got married, he finished his residency and joined a good family practice. We bought a house. We stayed up late watching stupid movies or playing games or going to concerts on the weekends or just talking on the weekends. We started talking babies.”

You pause and look away.

“And then?”

You look back to Steve, and, eyes burning with tears you don’t want to cry, you say, “I didn’t exist for five years and he did.”

His face falls immediately.

You press on because this is like pressing on a wound when the skin has healed but the muscles are still sore beneath the surface.

“I reappeared in a house Jeff had sold. He was my first call, of course, and he still had the same number. He picked me upHe’d just been remarried for about a year, and they were four months along expecting their first child.”

You pause, letting the weight of your words settle in the cabin. Steve's face is a mix of shock and sympathy, his blue eyes wide as he processes what you've just revealed.

“It’s something like thirty percent of couples who were married before The Blip who have had to file for this new legal classification to end a marriage. They call it a cessation. An annulment legally voids a marriage as if it never happened, and divorce is too commonly associated with a negative ending, ergo new procedure and new language.”

Steve's face crumples with understanding and sympathy. He leans forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. "I'm so sorry," he says softly. "I had no idea."

You nod, blinking back tears. "It's okay. I mean, it's not okay, but... it's been a few years now. I've had time to process it."

Steve's eyes search your face. "But it still hurts."

You let out a shaky breath. "It was surreal. Like waking up from a dream, only to find that the nightmare was real. Jeff was devastated too, in his own way. He'd mourned me, moved on, built a new life. And then suddenly I was back, throwing everything into chaos. We both knew we couldn't just pick up where we left off, but it was hard to let go of what we'd had."

Steve nods slowly, his eyes never leaving your face. "I can't even imagine what that must have been like for both of you."

"It was complicated," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "We tried to be friends at first, but it was too painful. Too many memories, too much history. Eventually, we decided it was best to go our separate ways."

Steve reaches out hesitantly, his hand hovering near yours before he pulls it back. "That must have been incredibly difficult," he says softly.

You nod, swallowing hard. "It was. For a while, I felt like I was just going through the motions. Everything I had known, everything I had planned for my future, was gone in an instant."

"How did you move forward?" Steve asks, his voice gentle.

You take a deep breath. "Slowly. Day by day. I threw myself into work, into causes I cared about. I reconnected with old friends who had also returned, made new ones. And eventually," you pause, meeting Steve's eyes, "I started to feel like myself again.”

Steve nods, his eyes filled with understanding. "It's amazing how resilient we can be," he says softly. "How we can rebuild our lives from the ashes."

You smile faintly. "It's not always easy, but we find a way."

You can see how - though your experiences had been vastly different - you had each had to piece lives back together through loss and being pushed through time in ways you never could have dreamed.

A comfortable silence falls between you, broken only by the steady hum of the plane's engines. Outside the window, the sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in brilliant hues of orange and pink. The clouds below are bathed in golden light, creating an ethereal landscape that seems to stretch on forever.

Steve's gaze follows yours to the window, and for a moment, you both just watch the breathtaking view. When he turns back to you, his expression is thoughtful, almost hesitant.

"Can I ask you something?" he says, his voice low.

You nod, bracing yourself for whatever might come next.

Steve takes a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. "I know this might be presumptuous of me to ask, but you'll always love Jeff, won't you?"

You take in his earnest expression, the way his brow is slightly furrowed with concern. The cabin feels both impossibly small and infinitely vast in this moment, like you're suspended in time and space, just the two of you existing in this bubble of honesty. You consider Steve's question, feeling the weight of your history with Jeff, the joy and the pain, the love and the loss.

"Love is... complicated," you begin, your voice soft but steady. "Jeff was my first real love - the love that weathers storms kind of love. For a long time, he was my whole world. But the world changed. We both changed. And while there will always be a part of me that cares deeply for Jeff, that cherishes the memories we shared and the life we built together, it's more like..." you pause, searching for the right words.

"It's like loving a chapter of a book that's already been written?” Steve offers.

You nod, and your mind clicks, putting together that the two of you share this understanding, too.

You have Jeff and he had Peggy Carter.

“You can look back on it fondly, appreciate the story,” he continues, “but you can never go back.”

"Exactly," you say softly, meeting Steve's gaze. "It's a part of my past that shaped me, but it's not my present or my future."

Steve nods, his blue eyes filled with far too much understanding. "I know that feeling," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You both sit in silence for a moment, the weight of shared experiences hanging between you. The fading sunlight casts long shadows across the cabin, painting everything in warm, golden hues.

"Steve," you begin, your heart racing slightly, "I hope you know that despite how this arrangement started, I've come to care about you. Genuinely."

His eyes widen slightly, a mix of surprise and something else—hope, maybe—flickering across his face. "I care about you too," he says, his voice low and earnest, and he looks like he wants to say more, but you cut him off, knowing you need to say what’s been slowly rising to the surface in the back of your mind while the two of you have been alone in here.

“Steve, we have to tell the senior staff of the campaign about our arranged marriage. I don’t know if we go public, but we need to bring them in so it doesn’t get discovered by someone else and revealed in a blindside that no one is ready for. They were already pretty thrown off that you didn’t know about Jeff, and that’s something two people who actually dated - for any amount of time - would have known about each other before tying the knot, and we have got to be kidding ourselves if we think there aren’t other pieces that they think don’t quite fit together.”

Steve leans back fully in his seat and drops his head back, looking at the ceiling. “What, like how we didn’t sit together much before a few weeks ago? Them potentially overhearing any of our conversations where we’re clearly getting to know each other? Or, you know, not sharing a room the nights we stay in the same city and bouncing between the excuses of it being easier so we don’t wake the other one up if one of us has an earlier call time, one of us being too light of a sleeper, or that I don’t sleep as much with being a super soldier and don’t want to keep you up while I take phone calls or strategy meetings?”

You grimace. “Obviously Bucky and Sam know, but the only way the rest of them don’t already know is if they are far too busy doing their jobs from before dawn until after midnight and don’t specifically speak to anyone else on the campaign about the odd things that might raise a flag.”

Steve sighs heavily, running a hand over his beard. "You're right," he admits, his voice tinged with resignation. "We can't keep this up forever. The longer we wait, the worse it could be if it comes out."

You nod, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension. "So, how do you want to do this? Call a meeting when we land in Miami?"

Steve shakes his head. "No, we need to do it now."

You raise an eyebrow. "Now? As in, on the plane?"

"Why not?" Steve says, a hint of determination creeping into his voice. "We've got the whole senior staff here. It's a controlled environment. No risk of being overheard by the wrong people."

“We should tell Jake first,” you say, standing up and smoothing down your clothes. "As campaign manager, we owe him the courtesy of finding out before the rest of the staff since he is their leader. Then we can work with him to figure out how to tell the rest of the senior staff and map strategy."

Steve nods in agreement, standing up as well. "You're right. Jake should know first." He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. "Ready?"

You give a short nod, your heart racing.

Steve reaches for the cabin door, but pauses with his hand on the handle. He turns back to you, his blue eyes intense. "Whatever happens, we're in this together, okay?"

"Together," you agree softly, though there’s a piece of you that wonders how you ever thought any of this would truly work.

With that, Steve opens the door and you both step out into the main cabin. The staff members look up as you enter, curiosity and concern evident on their faces. You spot Jake near the front, poring over some documents.

"Jake," Steve calls out, his voice steady and authoritative. "We need to speak with you privately.”

Bucky glances glances at you, raising an eyebrow questioningly. You give him a small nod, and he seems to understand, settling back in his seat. Steve is already stepping back into the private cabin, Jake heading toward you, but your gaze lingers on Bucky for another moment. You never thought you would be at a point where Bucky would be supportive of your arranged marriage, let alone getting after Steve and siding with you on how things were between you.

As the three of you enter the private cabin, Jake's eyes flick between you and Steve, his expression carefully neutral. The air feels thick with tension as Steve closes the door behind you, sealing off the curious gazes of the staff outside.

Jake takes a seat, his posture relaxed but attentive. The setting sun casts long shadows across his face, highlighting the lines of experience etched there. You and Steve remain standing, unconsciously positioning yourselves as a united front.

Steve takes a deep breath, his shoulders squaring as if preparing for battle. "Jake, there's something we need to tell you about our relationship," he begins, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of tension. "The story about our whirlwind engagement... it's not entirely accurate."

Jake's expression remains impassive, his eyes moving between you and Steve as he listens.

Steve’s eyes meet your breifly before he continues. "Pepper did set us up, but it wasn't a typical matchmaking situation. It was... an arrangement."

The word hangs in the air, heavy with implication. Jake's expression remains unreadable, his eyes fixed on Steve.

"An arrangement," Steve repeats, his voice low and steady, "specifically designed to provide me with a wife who could potentially serve as First Lady. We met for the first time the day we got married. Everything since then - the public appearances, the interviews, the campaign trail - it's all been part of a carefully constructed narrative."

As Steve speaks, you find yourself transported back to those first awkward days. The stilted conversations, the hesitant touches, the constant awareness of the cameras and the expectations weighing on both of your shoulders.

You watch Jake carefully, searching for any sign of surprise or disappointment, but his years of political experience have clearly honed his ability to maintain a poker face. His fingers are steepled under his chin, his eyes never leaving Steve's face as he absorbs every word.

Steve's voice grows softer as he delves into the more personal aspects of your arrangement - the initial awkwardness, the gradual building of trust, the unexpected bond that has formed between you. You feel a lump forming in your throat as you listen to him describe your journey, realizing just how far you've come.

When Steve finally gets to the end, not going into details, but going right through pieces of the conversation you had about the misunderstanding with Jeff, not reading your dossier, and then talking through it together, both of you are quiet, waiting for Jake to process and respond.

He leans back in his seat, the leather creaking softly under his weight. For a moment, he simply looks at you both, his gaze moving between you and Steve with an unreadable intensity.

Then, to your utter astonishment, a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "I know," he says quietly.

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Your jaw drops, your mind reeling from this revelation, and you can see Steve's eyes wide in surprise. The cabin suddenly feels smaller, more claustrophobic, as if the walls are closing in around you.

"You know?" Steve manages to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jake leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, that small smile still playing at the corners of his mouth. "I've known from the beginning," he says, his voice low and steady. "In fact, I was the one who insisted on it."

Jake continues, his eyes moving between you and Steve. "When Pepper approached me about running this campaign, I knew it would be unlike anything we've ever seen before. A man out of time, a living legend, running for the highest office in the land." He pauses, his gaze settling on Steve. "I’ve made political miracles happen. I’ve done it many times in my career. But I knew I couldn’t make multiple miracles happen. Someone with a name but without much political background? Yes. A third party candidate? Yes. An unmarried man? Yes. All three? Not taking that chance. I told her I’d only take the campaign if she got you married off.”

You blink, no words coming to you. Steve huffs and widens his stance, putting his hands on his hips. His jaw clenches as he processes Jake's words. "So this whole thing... it was your idea?"

Jake nods, his expression serious. "Not the specifics, mind you. I didn't choose who you'd marry or how it would happen. I just laid out the necessity of it. Pepper handled the rest."

You find your voice, though it comes out quieter than you intended. "Why didn't you tell us you knew?"

"I wanted to see how you two would handle it. How you'd work together, how you'd present yourselves to the public and the staff. I needed to know if this arrangement could work, if you could sell it convincingly enough."

Steve's posture stiffens, his voice taking on an edge. "So we've been what, some kind of experiment to you?”

Jake holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "Not an experiment, Steve. A necessary political strategy. And I have to say, you've both exceeded my expectations."

You feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you - relief that Jake already knew, frustration at being kept in the dark, and a strange sense of pride at his last statement. "How have we exceeded your expectations?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Jake leans back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "At first, I was worried. You two were clearly uncomfortable around each other, and it showed. But over time, something changed. You started to gel, to work as a unit. The way you interact now, the little touches, the shared glances - it's become genuine."

Steve's posture relaxes slightly, but his voice is still tense when he speaks. "So what happens now? Do we tell the rest of the staff? The rest of America?”

Jake shakes his head, his expression turning serious. "In an ideal world, yes. But this isn't an ideal world. This is politics. And in politics, sometimes the truth can be more damaging than a carefully crafted narrative."

Steve's jaw clenches again, his discomfort with the situation evident. "I don't like lying to the American people," he says, his voice low.

Jake stands up, moving to face both of you directly. "It's not lying, Steve. It's... selective truth-telling. You two are married. It all moved really quickly. What started as an arrangement has become something more. And that's what we'll continue to present to the world - a strong partnership, a united front."

You feel a mix of relief and unease at his words. "But what about transparency? Isn't that what this campaign is supposed to be about?"

Jake raises an eyebrow, his expression softening slightly. "Transparency in governance, yes. But the intimate details of your personal life? Why should those be public knowledge if the broad strokes are there?"

He moves to the window, gazing out at the fading sunset.

"Look," Jake continues, his voice taking on a gentler tone, "nearly half of all marriages in America end in divorce. People change, circumstances change. What matters is how couples work through those changes together."

He turns back to face you and Steve, his eyes moving between you. "And let's not forget, arranged marriages are still a reality for many families in America. Immigrants from cultures where it's common, religious communities that practice it. The fact that you two have made it work, have grown together - that's actually a powerful narrative in itself."

You and Steve exchange a glance, both processing Jake's words. There's truth in what he's saying, even if it feels uncomfortable.

"So what do we tell the rest of the staff?" you ask, breaking the silence.

Jake considers for a moment. "Essential personnel only - so the directors and your right hands, though I imagine Bucky and Sam already know?” Steve nods and Jake continues. “We tell them the basics. That your relationship started unconventionally, that it was initially more of an arrangement than a romance. But we emphasize how you've grown together, how you've become a true partnership. We focus on the present and the future, not the past."

Steve nods slowly, his brow furrowed in thought. "And the public?"

"For now, nothing changes," Jake says firmly. "We continue with the narrative we've established. If questions arise, we address them honestly but carefully. We emphasize the same message. If people want to fight that, we point out a willingness to sacrifice, an ability to build meaningful relationships, there are a lot of ways we can go with it.”

You and Steve exchange a long look, a silent conversation passing between you. You have reservations, and so does he, but what Jake is saying makes the most sense. At least for now.

Steve takes a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "I understand the strategy," he says, his voice low and steady. "And I agree that we shouldn't disrupt the campaign or put unnecessary pressure on our relationship by going public with every detail."

You nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "I agree," you say softly. "What we have... It's complicated and it's evolving, but it's ours.”

“Good,” Jake says. Then his expression shifts, an eagerness in his eyes. "Now that we've cleared the air, I have some news for you," he says, his voice taking on a tone of barely contained enthusiasm.

You and Steve exchange a curious glance, the tension from your previous conversation slowly dissipating.

"Elsa and her team have been working on getting a high-profile interview scheduled for the two of you?" Jake begins, pacing the small cabin with an energy that seems to electrify the air around him.

Steve nods, his brow furrowing slightly. "Yes, I remember you mentioning it a few days ago."

Jake's face breaks into a wide grin, his eyes sparkling with triumph. "Well, I'm pleased to announce that we've secured what might just be the most coveted interview slot in America."

[SEPTEMBER 28 - EVENING DRIVE FROM THE RALLY BACK TO THE MIAMI AIRPORT]

“I don’t like it,” Steve says as soon as the partition between the front and back of the SUV has closed and your privacy is in place. He had also quickly jumped in the vehicle after you and shut the door to prevent anyone else joining you on the way to the airport.

You let out as small of an exasperated sigh as you can manage.

“Like it or not, it’s what’s happening,” you respond.

The the ninety-minute flight time from Athens to Miami (thanks to an airliner boosted with Stark technology) had not been enough time to tell the senior staff about your marriage, do the final logistics review for Miami, and discuss a potential strategy adjustment for the coming days given the revelation about your marriage and the ramp up to the game-changing interview coming up, so while Steve had been on stage, you had been finalizing the itinerary with Jake, Elsa, Bucky, and Pepper, who weighed in over the phone.

“I don’t think it’s the right time for you to head off to the other side of the country.”

You frown at him. “Steve, we all signed off on this plan two days ago! Zoey and I are expected to show up for this string of women-targeted events from San Diego to Seattle, and it would be horrible to cancel now.”

Steve opens his mouth, but you cut him off. “Plus, Helen Santos has agreed to appear at some of those stops with us. This will be huge for the women’s vote on the West Coast.”

Steve's jaw clenches and the breaks between Miami streetlights cast intermittent shadows across his face. "I understand the political value," he says, his voice low and tense. "But after everything that's happened today, I don't think we should be apart right now."

You feel a mix of frustration and warmth in your chest at his concern. "Steve," you say, your voice softer now, "we can't change our entire campaign strategy every time something unexpected happens. That's not how this works."

“Isn’t it?” he asks. "We adjust strategy every day, and this isn't just 'something unexpected.' This is about us, about our relationship. We just told the senior staff about our arrangement. Don't you think we need some time to process that together?"

You lean back in your seat, considering his words. "I get it. Today has been intense for us both. But the West Coast tour has been planned and the advance teams have been preparing everything and rallying people to come. We’ve spent money on ad buys and billboards. Canceling now would raise more questions than we want to deal with."

He sighs heavily, running a hand over his beard. "I know you're right. I just... I worry about you being so far away, especially now."

"Maybe this is exactly what we need right now," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Steve's brow furrows, his blue eyes searching your face. "What do you mean?"

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. "Think about it, Steve. Since this whole thing started, we've been living this performance, day in and day out, sometimes together, sometimes apart. You got talked into marrying me, Sam had to lecture you and Bucky to start giving me a real chance,” Steve opens his mouth but you put up a hand, “I overheard him in Cleveland. And, yes, ultimately it was good for us to talk about Jeff today, but it has me thinking about a lot of things.”

“Like what?” he asks earnestly, reaching for your hand.

You look down and squeeze it in return.

"Like why I agreed to this in the first place," you say softly. "When Pepper approached me with this idea, part of me thought it was crazy. But another part... another part of me saw it as an opportunity."

Steve's thumb traces gentle circles on the back of your hand, encouraging you to continue.

"After Jeff, after losing everything I had built and dreamed of I was terrified of caring that deeply again. Of investing so much of myself in another person, only to have it all ripped away." Your voice catches slightly, and you swallow hard before continuing. "This arrangement it felt safe, in a way. Detached. A way to move forward without risking my heart again.

“I knew you were a good guy, Steve. One of the best. Everyone knows that. Captain America, the hero who sacrificed everything to save the world. I wasn't worried about an arranged marriage with you because I knew it would be good companionship, doing important work for others. We'd be partners in a noble cause, working to make the world better."

You pause, looking out the window at the Miami streets passing by, the neon lights of the city blurring into streaks of color. When you turn back to Steve, his blue eyes are fixed on you, intense and attentive.

"But then something changed," you continue, your voice soft. "You started to open up, to let me see beyond the shield, beyond the legend. I saw your kindness, your humor, your vulnerability. The way you care so deeply about everything and everyone around you. But I don’t want either of us getting swept up into something just because we’re in this weird life that is the campaign where every minute is compressed and there are scores people around us in addition to the thousands of people we’re meeting every day and a hundred reporters and falling into each other would just be too easy while we play these parts.”

You leave off there, your heart pounding, unsure of what to say next, but sure that you said what you needed to say, even if you don’t know what is means even in your own mind and heart yet. But you know the thoughts and feelings are there.

“Where does that leave us then?” Steve questions after a few moments. “I don’t want us to take a step back.”

Your throat aches yet again with tears that want to come but that you don’t want to shed. “I don’t either,” you finally say. “I don’t feel like it’s a step back, maybe just a step sideways, needing to find more secure footing.”

The electric sound of the partition lowering a few inches interrupts the two of you.

“Captain and Mrs. Rogers, we’re about three minutes out from the airport,” the driver says, and Steve thanks him as he rolls the partition back up.

“It’s only a week,” you reassure him.

Steve sighs. “The whole point of schedule this split in our appearances together precisely at this point was to get the public primed in the idea that ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder,’” he says. “Maybe it’ll work for us.”

You don’t need to grow fonder of him. “Maybe it will clear our hearts more than anything.”

“I guess we’ll see,” he says. Then he turns and looks out the window on his side.

You continue holding hands the last few minutes, but sit in silence.

[SEPTEMBER 28 - LATE EVENING - MIAMI AIRPORT]

The campaign staff swarms around you and Steve as soon as you exit the SUV. The private hangar buzzes with activity as luggage is loaded and last-minute preparations are made. You feel a twinge of anxiety as you realize this is where you and Steve will part ways for the next week.

"Mrs. Rogers, your flight to San Diego is on schedule. Wheels up in 30 minutes," Sophia, your assistant, informs you as she hands you a folder. "I've updated your briefing materials for tomorrow's events."

You nod, taking the folder and trying to focus on Sophia's words even as your mind lingers on the conversation with Steve in the car. The weight of your discussion, of the revelations and uncertainties, sits heavy in your chest.

As Sophia briefs you on the details, you can't help but glance over at Steve. He's surrounded by his own team, nodding seriously as they discuss something. His eyes meet yours for a moment, and you feel a jolt of electricity pass between you. There's so much left unsaid, so many emotions swirling just beneath the surface.

"Mrs. Rogers?" Sophia's voice snaps you back to attention. "Did you hear what I said about the event with Zoey Young and Helen Santos tomorrow afternoon?"

"I'm sorry, Sophia. Could you repeat that?" you ask, forcing yourself to focus.

As Sophia goes over the details again, you see Steve making his way over to you. Your heart rate picks up slightly as he approaches.

"Can I have a moment?" he asks, his voice low.

Sophia nods and steps away, giving you some privacy. You turn to face Steve, acutely aware of the bustling activity around you.

"I just wanted to say," Steve begins, then pauses, running a hand through his hair. "Be safe out there, okay? And if you need anything…”

“You, too,” you offer back.

Bucky approaches out of nowhere, “Sorry, wheels up in ten for us, Steve, but you can take a few more minutes if you sprint to the plane.”

Bucky squeezes your shoulder briefly. “You take care.”

You nod and smile as warmly as you can.

Alone in the sea of people again, you and Steve stall to savor a few final moments, but the uncertainty of how you’ll part is palpable.

“I meant what I said in the car about not wanting it to be a step back for us either,” you start. “I thought I’d have Sophia connect with Bucky about finding thirty minutes a day in our schedules for us to jump on a call together.”

“I think that sounds good,” Steve agrees.

Quiet falls between you two again. Your heart beats hard in your chest because now that it’s time for you to split up and board two separate planes and it was you who insisted it’s what you needed, in the final moments part of you is wavering.

Then Steve moves half a step closer and takes both of your hands in his. His touch is warm, familiar, and you feel a flutter in your chest as he looks into your eyes with an intensity that makes the bustling airport hangar fade away.

"Before you go," Steve says, his voice low and urgent, "there's something I need you to know."

You nod, your heart continuing to pound in your chest, the nearness of him both comforting and electrifying.

"I know Pepper told you I was reluctant to agree to this. She had an easier time convincing me to run than to get married. But the logical points checked out, and since I was already in, I knew I had to be all in, and I trusted Pep.”

You remember your own early conversations with Pepper, the careful way she had explained Steve's hesitation. At the time, you had assumed it was about understanding that Steve needed to become a more conventional candidate with marriage helping that.

Steve's eyes search yours, his voice softening as he continues, "But I gave her that trust because she agreed to make her choice based on the one condition I wanted her to agree to: pick someone she could see me marrying if I weren't running for President. That’s the real reason I never read your file."

Your breath catches in your throat, the weight of his words settling over you.

"When I first met you," Steve says, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on the backs of your hands, "I understood why Pepper chose you. You were kind, intelligent, passionate about making a difference. But I was still guarded, still unsure about this whole arrangement."

He takes a deep breath, his blue eyes never leaving yours. "As I got to know you, as we spent time together, I questioned myself, not knowing how to move forward since I’d faltered in the beginning, but then we started to really make something of this. I don’t know what this is yet or what will happen to us, but I think it’s something good.”

“Steve, I-”

He leans in and kisses your cheek, lingering, and your eyes flutter closed in that moment. You inhale the mix of his cologne with his natural scent, feel the warmth of his cheek against yours, the light scratch of his beard, and you want time to stop right there.

When he pulls back, there’s a serene smile on his face. “I’ll see you in Brooklyn, Mrs. Rogers.”

next part: coming 12/6

Before anyone gets carried away: THERE WILL NOT BE ANY ROMANTIC OR LUSTFUL CHAOS WITH BUCKY. Purely platonic. But now that you're one of his people, you're one of his people, and he's disappointed/annoyed with Steve, so he's in your corner on this day.

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I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[rhiannonsknife]

https://www.tumblr.com/rhiannonsknife/768495780521787392/thinking-about-adult-shauna-she-is-so-crazy-i

TEEHEHEHEHEE okay >:)

maybe you meet her while you’re in college. one of callie’s friends or something. there’s no denying that shauna’s into you, even though she does her best to hide it. she still wants to hold onto some shred of dignity despite everything, and actively crushing on a girl half her age certainly wouldn’t be very dignifying. but it’s not as if you’re not into her.

i don’t think she’d make a move unless she was sure it was what you wanted, so you’d have to be the one to initiate. maybe you’re a little tipsy one night, just enough to have the courage to hit on your friend’s mother. leaning in close to her, close enough that you can smell her floral perfume. giving her little touches that suggest you’re being a little more than just friendly.

i don’t think she’d believe you at first either. maybe she thinks you’re messing with her, maybe you lost a bet. because why would somebody as young as you be into someone her age? it messes with her head. it’s not as if she’s unattractive, but she knows that the wear and tear that comes with ageing might put some people off… especially with all the little comments she’s had to put up with from jeff over the years. it’s been a while since she’s felt wanted.

that all changes when she gets to know you. i think she’d want to keep things casual at first. exclusively sexual. at least that way she can pretend to herself that she’s still devoted to jeff; she still comes home to him when it would so, so easy to stay with you instead. you don’t mind either… it would be nice to have her stay the night, but you understand that she has commitments. she can’t just drop everything for you. it’s complicated, but you’re glad that she finds it in her busy life to make time for you.

i personally think she’d use sex as a way to relieve stress. intimacy with her husband is long gone, so it’s refreshing for her when she gets to be intimate with someone new. she’s usually rough with you, getting out all of her anger and frustration. i think she’d love to overstim you, loves the feeling of power she gets when you’re on your fourth orgasm and begging her to slow down. choking on your whines as she slams her strap into you over and over and over. she’d force you to take it until she’s satisfied, until all of her frustration is gone. the aftercare would be worth it though, and it’s not as if you’re not into it 😇 and you know she’d stop immediately if it ever actually got too much for you. she just likes to push you to your limits.

receiving gentle treatment during sex would be a rarity, something you only get on special occasions. but whenever she does decide to take it slow, you swear you can see a more loving side to her. a want for a different life if she wasn’t already so tied down by her current one. she’s normally rushing things, tossing you around and filling you up at the speed of light as she tells you how much she needed this, but on these special occasions she takes it slow. spends forever kissing all over your body, practically worshipping you as she gives soft murmurs of praise. really takes the time to cherish you and this moment :(

shauna shipman… more like shauna STRAPman, amiright? ugh i NEED her !!!!

- 🦔

saw the words ‘adult shauna’ and dropped everything to write this down you don’t understanddddd. anyway…nsfw content. mdni.

it all started when you and callie met in your first year of college. after bonding over bad cafeteria food, late-night study sessions, and a general lack of sleep, you quickly became close friends. -a friendship that only solidified over the years.

you’d spent countless weekends at her house, getting to know her family. her dad, jeff, was nice enough but often seemed more focused on work than his family. her mom, shauna, on the other hand, was…different.

shauna shipman wasn’t the warm, doting mother you’d imagined, at all. and yet, there was always something unspoken between the two of you: a tension you could never quite place. it wasn’t exactly obvious, just a lingering glance here, a charged silence there. it felt ridiculous to think it was more than some strange undercurrent. shauna was your friend's mother, older than you by quite a few years, and married to jeff, after all. still, it was impossible to ignore the way her gaze would linger a moment too long when she thought no one was looking, or the way her voice softened whenever she spoke to you.

you told yourself it was a harmless crush that would fade eventually. it didn’t. instead, it only grew as weeks turned into months. the way she looked at you sometimes made you wonder if she felt it too. but shauna was nothing if not composed. if she did notice, she never let it show. not directly, at least.

for her part, she was conflicted, to say the least. she couldn’t deny that there was something about you: your energy, your warmth, the way you looked at her like she was still worth noticing. it unnerved her how often you crossed her mind after you left, or how she’d find herself lingering in conversations with you just a little too long. for callie’s sake she told herself it was ridiculous, inappropriate, and absolutely out of the question.

then came the party.

it was the first of many occasions where those lines would blur.

you had been drinking, as had shauna, but not quite the same amount. she wasn’t the type to let loose easily, especially around her daughter and friends. but when the alcohol hit your system just right, you found yourself inching closer to her. you weren’t subtle that night. not anymore.

it started with small things: standing closer to her than you needed to, finding excuses to touch her arm when you laughed, and letting your eyes wander in a way that made your intentions clear. she noticed, of course. how could she not? by the time you found yourselves alone in the quiet corner of the house, away from the noise and laughter, you were both tipsy enough to let your guards down.

“you’re awfully charming tonight,” she said at one point, her tone teasing but her eyes cautiously searching yours over the rim of her wine glass.

“maybe i’m just trying to impress someone,” you replied, your voice low enough that only she would hear. it was the most forward you'd ever been and the point where shauna could've let you down. yet, instead of pulling away, she stayed and the tension between you grew thicker.

“you’re drunk,” shauna said matter-of-factly, but her voice lacked the force she probably intended. “are you messing with me? is this a joke?”

“you really think i’d joke about this?”

“tell me i’m wrong,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “tell me this isn’t what you want” truthfully, she simply didn’t know what to do with your attention. she’d never had it before. not like this. the comments she’d heard over the years, the way jeff had subtly pointed out her age, her appearance, those all haunted her. and then there was you, someone half her age, looking at her like she was the only person in the room.

you didn’t answer her right away, still fighting the part that insisted this was a mistake, that it couldn’t lead anywhere good. eventually, you did reach out, if only just briefly.

she didn’t say anything, just leaned into your touch, her lips brushing yours in a way that felt reckless and inevitable all at once. after that, the rest of the night blurred together; every kiss, every whisper, all of it spilling over from the tension that had been building for way too long.

now, back to what 🦔 anon was saying…because everything about is so!!!!

'she can’t just drop everything for you. it’s complicated, but you’re glad that she finds it in her busy life to make time for you'

after every single time you get to spend with her, comes the moment where she has to sneak off. as much as a part of her hates the secrecy, she loves how it makes her feel young again.“don’t get caught,” you’ll whisper teasingly as she slips her shoes back on by the door, her hair still a mess from your hands. shauna glances over her shoulder. “i‘m always careful” your laughter from the bed is soft, muffled where your face is smudged against the pillow, and shauna finds herself laughing too, despite herself. she shouldn’t enjoy this as much as she does, but sneaking out the back door to see you feels like reclaiming something she lost long ago. there’s something special about that; it’s in the way you make her feel like she can still be desirable. like she can be wanted. it’s in the way she’ll slip under the covers to jeff later that night, with a rare smile on her face now that she’s spent the night with somebody who actually appreciated her presence.

‘she'd use sex as a way to relieve stress. intimacy with her husband is long gone, so it's refreshing for her when she gets to be intimate with someone new’

you quickly find out that shauna loves to use you as an outlet for all her pent-up stress and anger. you’re her very own, personal stress relief and you know your place when she needs someone to let it out on. she loves to have you at her mercy -even more than you ever dared to imagine. preferably on all fours, her front pressed against your bare back and three fingers knuckle deep inside of you as she talks you through it. even with your face pressed into the pillows, you can’t stifle all the noises she draws from your lips, all while whispering words of “that’s it” and “you like that?”, with her mouth right by your ear.

‘i think she'd love to overstim you, loves the feeling of power she gets when you're on your fourth orgasm and begging her to slow down‘

shauna and you both know one use of the safe word would be enough for her to drop all that she’s been doing. that she would immediately make sure that you’re okay, clean you up, and hold you until you’ve recovered. most of the time, that’s not what you want though. what you want -need, really- is for shauna to have her way with you. for her to fuck the strap so deep into you, you’ll feel it there for the next weeks whilst you reach the fourth height of the night. “please” you sob into the mattress, unable to string together coherent sentences anymore. that ability left you after the third orgasm. your palm slams against the sheets that you’ve practically drooled all over as she pushes it in deeper. “shauna, fuck-“ you manage and try to lift your head up to glance at her over your shoulder. “slow down, please!” if you really wanted her to slow down, you’d use your proper words, you know that. shauna does too; “shut up” she hisses as her hand grabs a fist full of your hair and she pushes you back into the pillow. “shut up and take it”

‘whenever she does decide to take it slow, you swear you can see a more loving side to her’

it’s a rare occasion but when shauna does take things slow with you, it’s heavenly. you’re so used to having to rush things, to quick and hard fucks, stifled moans, and hushed words, that you’ve never really considered the soft side of her. turns out that, when you have the time, shauna will worship every inch of your skin she can put her mouth to. you love it when she’s rough with you, of course, when she forces your legs apart and herself into you. but there’s something so different about having her full attention, about feeling her attentive eyes on you as she puts her mouth to your throbbing pussy and studies every single reaction she can get from you whilst she whispers words of praise right against you. but ALSO sensual strap on sex….?? the few times where she gets to actually undress you properly instead of just shoving your panties aside and stuffing you full are unlike anything you’ve ever known: her arms on either side of your head, the full length of her body pressed onto yours, the shuddered breath she exhales into your mouth as she finally sinks into you, as if she could actually feel you fluttering around the silicone shaft…you reach around her then, when she stars rolling her hips and begins fucking you, and your nails scratch down her spine as shauna fills you up while kissing your neck.

[panpanghost]

part 7 of this, (is the name corrupted king taken?)

_"Monkey king!" MK yelled ruining outside to get The sage,

_"What's wrong kid? Where's Macaque?" Why was he in the house?

_"He's inside, he passed out." Wukong's heartbeat jumped as he rushed inside the house to see Macaque passed out on his bed. He looked worse than when he left him. How did he loose weight in just a few hours?

_"What happened?" Wukong asked, feeling anger like lava under his skin. Who did this to him?

_"We were talking and then the crown started hurting him then he passed out," he hurt him "I didn't know what to do," you told him to stay away and he didn't, "but he told me not to get you so I've been waiting for you." He wants to get the crown off, "I've put him in bed and checked for fever," He's helping him escape, "I'm so happy you came earlier than you said..." He wants to take him away, forever! Get rid of the kid before he takes him away!

_"I told you to stay outside kid! why didn't you listen?!"

_"I-I'm sorry.. I just wanted to talk to him-"

_"And look what you've done!" Wukong caught the look on MK's face and it made something in his heart twist, but it wasn't enough to shake away his anger

*sigh* "Go home kid, I'll take care of him."

_"I can help-"

_"NO. You've done enough. Just go home."

_"..." MK tried to lift his head up but he couldn't, he just took a deep breath before heading outside, "Let me know if you need anything."

Wukong ignored MK leaving and focused on Macaque, he layed beside him and gently hugged him close to his chest.

What have I done, I'm sorry my moon, I shouldn't have left you, I'll never leave your side again.

Wukong kissed his head and inhaled deeply, taking in every drop of Macaque's scent. It managed to soothe him a little as he started giving Macaque his magic hoping it'll slow down the crown until he can stop it for good.

Do it. He's unconscious now. He wouldn't feel a thing.

The idea sparkled in the King's head. It's true. He was waiting for a proper time to bring it up but now is the perfect time.

Normally, Wukong wouldn't be able to give Macaque his eye or any other organ considering their magic is incompatible. Macaque's body would simply reject anything with his magic in it.

But now, that won't happen, the crown would simply absorb Wukong's magic and the eye would become a normal organ. He just needs to use some extra magic and make sure it heals into Macaque before the crown absorbs all his healing magic.

Yes. It could work. He won't feel a thing now. It won't hurt him.

Wukong slowly backed up from his moon and put his fingers on his eye. And just like that he started shoving his fingers around his eye.

He was in so much pain there was a moment where he wanted to stop but one though at the back of his head kept him going.

This is nothing compared to the pain you put him in, you deserve this, and he deserves better.

After a few minutes, Wukong held his eye in his hand, the one he so desperately need to give, he looked at it for a moment, how long did he dream of this moment, of a miracle, of one desperate apology.

He looked into his moon, uncomfortable and trying to hold on to life. Wukong didn't waste anymore time. It's now or never.

He got his fingers closer to his moon's face, he hesitated but immediately pushed that thought away,

_"I'm sorry my love." he whispered, and with a quick swift, he got the grey eye out. The one I blinded.

Macaque only gave a few groans of discomfort, but didn't get up. He didn't wake up. He can't feel it.

The fact that Macaque wasn't up eased the pain in Wukong's heart, he doesn't know what he would've done if his moon woke up crying and screaming.

Wukong carefully started putting his eye in Macaque's place, praying with every breath that this works. And just as he finished putting it inside, he placed his hand on the eye and took a deep breath.

This is the hard part, this is the part that would hurt the most.

He held his moon's head close to his chest and let a river of healing magic into him, then stopped when the eye was completely secured, at the same second he felt his love wake up, and before he knew it, his moon was up and screaming in pain,

_"PLEASE!! STOP!! IT HURTS!! PLEASE!" Wukong heard these begging screams as Macaque desperately tried to get away, his claws ripping through the yellow clothes on Wukong's body but not his skin, the crown had sucked out his energy and left him as weak as a baby that would be eaten by the wild if left alone.

It only took a minute before the crown finished its job and turned Wukong's eye, now Macaque's, into a normal one, it lost its magic and shifted back to how it originally was when he was born.

That minute felt like a decade for Wukong, in his head he kept apologising, but this time he didn't feel regret, he was actually happy it's finally over.

There was no way to know if it worked before his moon woke up. So for now, all he can do is take care of him until he wakes up. He'll give him a shower to clean up the blood, the sight of it on his love is making his stomach twist and his heart pinch. He also needs to keep giving his magic to the crown so it would leave his moon's alone.

I'll take care of you, my king.

(This was painful to write but I made it.)

[lovinthelivin7]

first try at a microfic (?) not really first try, just first time in this account.

@wolfstarmicrofic - prompt: dumbledore's office - 708 words

Remus was exhausted waiting around in Dumbledore's office for Sirius to come out. James and Peter had gone to McGonagall's office to do their part of the plan and Remus was now stuck with Sirius. He hadn't meant to involve himself in their shenanigans, but he had opened his mouth and now all three of them had dragged him to their preparation.

Sirius jammed the lock in Dumbledore's office, trying out a variety of spells along with other colorful expletives when he was wholly unsuccessful. Remus rolled his eyes and bent the paperclip in his pocket to open the lock, surprisingly easily. You'd think they'd keep better locks in the headmasters office, wizards were too smug for their own good.

Remus shoved the paperclip back in his pocket and saw Sirius looking at him with, a perfect eyebrow raised shock. That was an infuriating thing about Sirius, his eyebrows were an art of their own. Each raised could display an array of emotions, no words needed to make his judgement clear, though that never stopped Sirius from ever voicing them.

"Get on with it then." Remus argued.

"You're just full of surprises, huh?" Sirius continued his actions, pouring several layers of a jello-like substance in all of the teacher's drawers.

"Dumbledore doesn't even teach, why are you doing this to him too?" Remus asked, trying to undo his actions as some guilt rose in his chest.

"Why should he miss out on the fun?" Sirius said before taking off the gloves over his hands far from his body, stretching out his limbs far as he can and dropped them in the bag Remus was holding open.

"Touching it won't kill you, you know?" Remus stated blankly,and eyebrow raised in judgement. He thought back to Sirius and his eyebrows, he thought if his looked as animated as his.

"If you wanna be itchy for two days you're welcome to touch it Lupin." Sirius stated, eyes over his eyelashes, head still down to check on any spills.

Remus rolled his eyes again, annoyed at what seemed like everything. Sirius was greatly perturbed by this. The moon had dragged itself near, as much as Remus tried to wish it away. Tomorrow it will be a moonlit night, and if contributing to prank would mean he wouldn't have to come up with bullshit excuses for his absence, then all be damned. He can deal with a little guilt.

But it seems the moon would keep its promise of being the enemy because when Sirius and Remus turned around, they saw Dumbledore, quietly observing their actions.

"What ingenious masterplan had you all devised this time gentlemen?" Asks Dumbledore, a small smile hidden under his beard.

"Sir, We only came here because Remus wanted to talk to you about his uhh- his unexplained visits to nowhere, didn't we Remus?"

Remus grit his teeth together, his anger soaring. He glared at Sirius but he was only met with a tilted face, smug smile playing on his lips, his eyes winning.

Sirius slapped Remus' back rather loudly and he stumbled forward, composing himself instantly with a cough, as if that would cover it up.

"The lad won't tell us where he goes off to, it's all very mysterious." A faux innocent look adorned his face, all too very convincing, though Remus doubted it was effective on Dumbledore. His hesitance to not punish us must only depend on the fact that Dumbledore cannot speak of his lycanthropy.

Dumbledore only chuckled and said, "I will handle all of Mr. Lupin's grievances. You may excuse yourself Mr. Black."

Sirius basically pranced out of the room, hopping along his path but turned around give Remus a wink before leaving.

Remus only closed his eyes in frustration, taking a deep breath. Months into their first year, this was the first time Remus had any real interactions that weren't just small talk. It had been an offhand comment, a thought that had popped up in his head while he heard James lament about their unsuccessful pranks. It was hard to say no to Sirius when he pays attention to you. He wouldn't be here if he hadn't dragged him here.

It was an agonizing thing. Sirius Black really does get what he wants, doesn't he?

[mental69er]

Okay so what if r is Victoria Neuman‘s assistant and there’s a charity that they have to attend. While Victoria is networking, r is getting hit on by some rich old guy and Victoria kinda gets jealous and interrupts them, pretending like she needed r for something important. And idk maybe the hookup in the bathroom or in vicky‘s limousine?

content: jealous victoria, reader is victoria's assistant but they're dating, car sex, short piece, nsfw

Victoria's perfectly placed smile never wavered once even as her grip around your waist felt impossibly tight. She bid goodbye to the people at the party on her way out and you attempted to do the same, before you were quickly whisked away and into her limo.

No sooner had the door shut, tinted windows preventing anyone from looking in, then Victoria was barking out to her driver to go, and slamming a hand to the partion to roll it up.

You gulped, sensing you were in trouble. None of it your fault.

Her mask dropped, dark eyes swirling with anger. "Do you have any idea how pissed off I am right now."

"What did I do?" you asked, even as the spot between your thighs began to grow damp. There was something about a pissed off Victoria that did things to you even though you knew you should be taking her seriously.

"He was almost all over you! If I hadn't stepped in, his hand would have been up your underwear in front of everyone to see!"

Now, she was being ridicolous. He had been standing too close to you, yes, and making inappropriate passes, yes, but he hadn't so much as touched you.

You had been just about to excuse yourself, taking a longer time then usual to rebuff his advances because you couldn't believe he was doing this and because you knew Victoria needed his support for her campaign, when she had swarmed in and made up a fake excuse to drag you here.

You hoped you hadn't prevented her from networking how she needed to. This was supposed to be an important party for her.

"He was not, all over me. I was handling it."

"You should have walked away."

"And ruin what you were planning with him-"

"The campaign can take a small hit. I don't need his support," she hissed out, climbing onto your lap in the darkly lit interior. You could smell the hint of alcohol on her breath but you knew that had nothing to do with her reaction. "I would rather you be safe from his sleazy hands." Her hands wrapped around the back of your neck, pressing her forehead into yours.

"Were you jealous?" you snorted out, surprised by this. "When would I ever go for someone like him when I have someone like you." Your voice softened on this, filled with affection for her.

She doesn't respond for a few seconds before releasing a pent up breath. "Maybe a little bit. He has a lot of money, and power, and-"

You laughed and it startled her into stopping. "Vic, seriously? Him? He's so old his eyebags have eyebags. I don't care if he has more power and money than you. I'm not dating you for that. I'm dating you for you. Because I love your smile, love your personality. And, because I love how you make me feel."

"I simply worry." She sighed, tenderly brushing her nose against yours. "I feel like I don't deserve you."

Victoria often said this, and it worried you to see her so down on herself.

"Don't," you said and leaned in a bit to press your lips to hers. She sighed into the kiss, content. Victoria always came off so confident to you. You never knew she could even be worried about something like this.

As the car drove down the street towards her house, the two of you continued kissing, the movements becoming harder, more passionate as arousal began to fan in your stomach. Mouths opened, breathing became heavier, and Victoria hummed into your touch.

You wanted to reassure her in other ways that she had nothing to worry about.

She wordlessly sensed this, trailing one hand down in between your bodies and undoing your pants button. With a small pop it was free and she was able to wriggle her fingers past your underwear into your sodden cunt.

You groaned at her touch, looking up at her through fluttering eyelashes. "See, I'm only this wet for you."

Her breath hitched at your words and her fingers curled inside of you, before she began thrusting into you. The angle was tight but that didn't discourage her, as she continued to kiss you and pump into you. Your hips twitched and tried to buck up but her sitting on your lap didn't let you.

Tiny pants and groans left your mouth. She kissed around your jaw, down your neck, nipping and biting, leaving her lipstick smeared everywhere. Your hands grabbed onto her back, needing an anchor as pleasure began to build inside of you.

"Victoria," you groaned out her name and she let her thumb roll over your clit in just the way you liked.

"I've got you," she reassured you, pressing her mouth to your ear and tracing the shell of it with her tongue. You shuddered at the warm and wet sensation, sticky heat flooding her palm.

"Fuck," you cried out, surely loud enough to be heard through the partition, and came all over her palm. Your body went rigid, Victoria pressing kisses to your face to bring you back down.

Catching your breath you looked up at her, smiling softly, and she smiled back at you.

"I only come undone for you like this," you told her, hands lowering to land on her hips, urging her to switch positions with you. She slipped out of you and sat down on the seat, before you slipped down to the floor in front of her, arching your brow as you placed your hands on her knees.

"And I only kneel for you," you added on, before you helped her tug off her pants.

[dreamscapeee222]

Hi, i stumbled upon your blog and i hope that you could write headcanons about this idea i have.

Basically, reader is a Zaunite, and during the final episode they volunteer to be an enforcer and protect Piltover. Maybe some angst as well, with their reaction to reader getting hurt? And what happens after the war(reader doesn’t die i need some happy endings🙏🏻)

I wish you a good day and thanks!!

A/n: I like this :3

Warning: Angst, Comfort

Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

Masterlist

Vi

When you tell Vi you’re volunteering to fight for Piltover, she’s furious.

“You’re risking your life for a city that’s crushed ours?” she demands, her voice rising with every word. “You’re gonna get yourself killed for what? To prove you’re better than them?”

She storms out, but her words hang heavy in the air. You catch her sneaking glances your way in the days leading up to the battle, a mix of anger and worry written all over her face.

During the fight, Vi fights like hell to keep the chaos at bay. When she sees you take a hit, her heart stops. “No, no, no,” she mutters, shoving her way through the fray to get to you. She hoists you over her shoulder with a strength born of pure panic.

Later, when you’re patched up and recovering, she stays by your bedside. “You’re so damn stupid,” she says, her voice cracking. “But you’re also the bravest person I’ve ever met.” She takes your hand, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Next time, we fight for Zaun. Together.”

Jinx

When Jinx hears your decision, it’s like a slap to the face.

“You’re leaving me for them?” she sneers, but her voice wavers. “You’re just like the rest of them, turning your back on Zaun.”

You try to explain, but she’s already gone, leaving a trail of chaos in her wake. During the battle, you catch glimpses of her in the distance, her eyes wild as she fights on her own.

When you’re injured, she’s suddenly there, pulling you out of harm’s way. “You’re such an idiot,” she mutters, her hands shaking as she presses them to your wounds. “Don’t you dare leave me, you hear?”

After the war, she shows up at your door unannounced, carrying a bundle of mismatched supplies. She doesn’t say much, but her presence speaks volumes. “You’re still an idiot,” she grumbles, but the softness in her eyes gives her away.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn admires your courage but can’t hide her fear.

“I’ve lost too many people,” she says quietly, her hand resting lightly on your arm. “Don’t make me lose you too.”

She fights alongside you with fierce determination, always keeping you in her peripheral vision. When you’re hurt, she abandons all composure, sprinting to your side.

“Stay with me,” she pleads, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes. She personally oversees your medical care, refusing to leave your side until she knows you’re safe.

After the war, she’s there when you wake up, her hand tightly clutching yours. “You scared me,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m so proud of you. Let’s make sure this was the last fight either of us has to endure.”

Ekko

Ekko’s first reaction is frustration.

“You think Piltover’s gonna change because you fight for them?” he asks, his voice full of hurt. “Zaun needs you here.”

But when the battle comes, he fights by your side, using every trick in his arsenal to keep you safe. When you’re injured, he blames himself, his mind racing with guilt.

“I should’ve been faster,” he mutters, carrying you to safety. “I should’ve been better.”

After the war, he stays by your side, his resolve hardening. “No more wars,” he says firmly. “We’re gonna rebuild Zaun. Together. And this time, we’re gonna do it right.”

Jayce

Jayce struggles with your decision.

“You’re brave,” he says, his voice heavy with emotion. “But you don’t owe Piltover this. You don’t owe me this.”

During the fight, he’s relentless, his hammer a blur of destruction as he clears a path for you. When you’re hurt, he drops everything, his hands trembling as he checks your injuries.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he says, more to himself than to you. “You have to be okay.”

After the war, he’s a constant presence, his guilt and admiration tangled together. “You’re incredible,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “But next time, let me protect you.”

Viktor

Viktor is calm on the surface, but his words betray his worry.

“You are brave, but bravery often comes with a cost,” he says quietly. “Please, do not let it be your life.”

When the battle rages, he fights with quiet determination, his mind calculating every move. When you’re injured, he doesn’t panic—he acts, stabilizing you with precision and efficiency.

After the war, he spends hours by your bedside, his work temporarily forgotten. “You’ve done enough,” he says softly, his voice laced with emotion. “Let others carry the burden now. You deserve peace.”

Mel

Mel’s reaction is one of quiet anguish.

“You’re risking your life for a city that doesn’t see you,” she says, her voice soft but cutting. “You deserve better.”

During the battle, she watches from a distance, her heart heavy with every report of casualties. When she hears you’ve been hurt, she’s at your side in an instant, her composure cracking for the first time.

“You’ve proven your strength,” she says, her hand gently resting on yours. “But please, no more sacrifices. Let’s build something worth fighting for, together.”

See pinned.

[ask-kado-thorne]

(Kado had only made it a few blocks away from the beach house before he had to pull into a parking lot and stop. He was crying so much that he couldn't properly see the road, and knew he needed to take some time to calm down.)

(What was he supposed to do when he got home? Seeing Dominion would only make things worse. It wasn't that he blamed him for what happened, but he feared that in his current state, he might lash out in anger and ruin yet another relationship.)

(And while the thought of a loving boyfriend to comfort him would normally sound wonderful, it would be impossible to enjoy Dominion's company now. All he would feel is guilt that Nolan was by himself, hurting because of him.)

(He texted Dominion and let him know that things hadn't gone well, and he wouldn't be returning to the estate tonight. Instead, he would spend the night at his castle, which had practically been abandoned.)

(It was a complete mess, but Kado could rest there without anyone bothering him.)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(One night turned into several, and Kado had hardly left his bed. He only brought a few packs of blood substitutes with him, and had none he could find in the wreck of the castle. Depressed, weak from low iron, and dirty from not bathing, he was a pathetic sight.)

(He'd started ignoring Dominion's calls and texts, and finally turned his phone off. But on the fifth night of solitude, as he trembled in bed from iron deficiency, he heard a door burst open down on the first floor.)

Kado!

(The vampire had no energy to call back, and simply laid there as the sound of rushing footsteps grew closer.)

(Dominion was soon standing beside him, a look of horror on his face. He knelt down and put a hand on Kado's cheek, which was warm, and a clear symptom of iron deficiency for a vampire.)

Oh Kado. I should have come to check on you sooner.

(The demon teared up, turning so that the left side of his neck was right in front of Kado.)

Please drink, dear.

(Kado didn't move for several moments, but finally, with the tiny bit of strength he had left, he managed to move just enough to sink his fangs into the demon's skin.)

(As he drank the first few drops of blood, his pupils began to dilate, and he got a sudden burst of adrenaline. He put a hand on Dominion's shoulder, bringing him closer as he drank more rapidly. Several seconds later, he pulled away, panting heavily.)

S-Sorry darling. I didn't mean for it to go this far. I hope I didn't take too much.

(Dominion shook his head, smiling in relief as he hugged Kado tightly.)

I'm not the one you need to be worried about, love. Don't scare me like that again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(After that, Dominion didn't let Kado out of his sight. He was deeply concerned for his boyfriend, and it broke his heart to see him in this state. If he hadn't been such a paranoid fool, sending that text to Nolan, this might have never happened.)

(A few weeks went by without any serious incidents, though Kado still wasn't himself. He'd check his phone constantly, waiting to hear from Nolan. When it never happened, he thought this was it. Their relationship was beyond repair, and he would never see the goofy heist mastermind that he'd grown so fond of, again.)

(So one afternoon, when Kado and Dominion were out at a restaurant for lunch, the vampire gasped and practically jumped out of his seat when he saw the name on his ringing phone.)

It's him! Nolan is calling me!

(Dominion smiled and waved his hand in a shooing motion, urging Kado to take the call in private.)

Go! Talk to him.

(Kado nodded, quickly making his way outside, and answered the call.)

It's about time, habibi.

*A lot had happened since the last time they were together, but at the same time, nothing between them: Asides from certain small inevitable interactions, Nolan had been actively avoiding Kado, luckily for him, the vampire hadn't tried to reach out to him either, just as he wanted. But, at certain point, he felt lonely. Having a best friend was a quite strange concept for him, he was still getting used to the other man, and staying away from him wasn't helping at all. And, on top of that, he was feeling alone. A cold breeze made him remind Kado's words: Winter was coming, and he'd have no one to warm him up. And Nolan was willing to be the guy that would warm him a bit.*

*After hesitating for a moment, a long one, typing and deleting messages he could send to Kado, he ended up with the right one to get his attention*

Hey :)

@nolan-chance-fortnite

(After leaving Nolan's house in a hurry, Kado arrived at his estate, feeling sick from low iron levels, and frustrated with how things had turned out.)

(He spent most of that day in his room, watching TV, playing games, anything to take his mind off of the events from that morning.)

(But that did little to stop the pain in his heart. It seemed like every time he and Nolan got closer, they became distant right after.)

Why do I even bother?

(Kado said to himself as he laid in bed that night, turned to the side and looking at the empty spot beside him.)

He'll never care for me the same way.

(He grabbed an extra pillow and hugged it tightly, tears pricking at his eyes.)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(Kado was used to heartbreak. It had happened too many times to count in his long life. But there was nothing worse than falling for a close friend. It hurt so much more when they didn't love you back.)

(He never called or texted Nolan since their last meeting, though he did check his social media. For awhile, he merely looked at his posts, never reblogging or commenting. But eventually, he started leaving likes on the silly things Nolan would share.)

(Kado finally began to cheer up, enjoying the stupid jokes his friend was known for. The incident between them was never brought up, and still no other form of interaction took place.)

(Until a month later, when Kado was in his room one night. This time, he wasn't alone, and when the screen on his phone lit up, he hadn't noticed it himself. But his guest, who was facing the nightstand, had seen it.)

Hey, you've got a text.

Oh?

(Kado's arms were around this other person, so he let go and reached over to pick up the phone. Not expecting anything important, his eyes widened when he saw a message from the last person he expected.)

(He quickly set the phone back on the nightstand, leaving the text unanswered.)

What's wrong? Is it bad news?

No no, just one of those dumb scams trying to steal your information.

You've gotta be careful with those. One wrong click and your entire fortune could disappear.

(Kado chuckled, kissing his companion on the cheek as he held him once again.)

I'm not letting anyone steal from me. Go back to sleep, darling.

[puhpandas]

the sense that cassie would knock into tony

[angelsdean]

ruthlessly deleting old 2021/2022 posts (not by me) from my dean studies tag like *click* un-incorporating that from my beliefs system! also the way SO many posts have me like ok uh-huh good aaand then say one completely wrong thing that loses me. it's so many posts.