#made out with a girl there?? apparently???

[thatscarletflycatcher]

The year is 1848. You are Anne Brontë, and you have written a cautionary tale for young women about the dangers of marriage and how you cannot reform a rake, and that the notion that "women's gentle influence" can do anything towards fixing corrupted and vicious men is a perverse lie. To get this point across you insert a conversation between two characters close to the beginning of the novel where you logically argue "You would have us encourage our sons to prove all things by their own experience, while our daughters must not even profit by the experience of others." and then you illustrate your point through how, despite loving her aunt dearly, your main character cannot understand the extent of the danger she's in because her aunt will only allude to it in vagueries. Surely nothing can be clearer and more forcibly expressed, right?

Reviewer at Sharpe's London Magazine:

"we cannot but express our deep regret that a book in many respects eminently calculated to advance the cause of religion and right feeling, the moral of which is unimpeachable and most powerfully wrought out, should be rendered unfit for the perusal of the very class of persons to whom it would be most useful, (namely, imaginative girls likely to risk their happiness on the forlorn hope of marrying and reforming a captivating rake), owing to the profane expressions, inconceivably coarse language, and revolting scenes and descriptions by which its pages are disfigured."

(now you can better understand the tone of the preface to the second edition)

Bonus:

"we consider the evils which render the work unfit for perusal (for we go that length in regard to it,) to arise from a perverted taste and an absence of mental refinement in the writer, together with a total ignorance of the usages of good society... despite reports to the contrary, we will not believe any woman could have written such a work... at the first glance we should say, none but a man could have known so intimately each vile, dark fold of the civilized brute's corrupted nature; none but a man could make so daring an exhibition as this book presents to us. On the other hand, no man, we should imagine, would have written a work in which all the women, even the worst, are so far superior in every quality, moral and intellectual, to all the men; no man would have made his sex appear at once coarse, brutal, and contemptibly weak, at once disgusting and ridiculous. There are, besides, a thousand trifles which indicate a woman's mind, and several more important things which show a woman's peculiar virtues. Still there is a bold coarseness, a reckless freedom of language, and an apparent familiarity with the sayings and doings of the worst style of fast men, in their worst moments, which would induce us to believe it impossible that a woman could have written it. A possible solution of the enigma is, that it may be the production of an authoress assisted by her husband, or some other male friend: if this be not the case, we would rather decide on the whole, that it is a man's writing."

We love a person who can read a book about how women, even high class women, do not and cannot escape horrifying scenes of abuse and degradation by men in Victorian society, and are, because of their special legal and economic vulnerability, most often the target of it, and go "this couldn't have possibly been written by a woman because ladies cannot have any experience whatsoever of such things."

[sugarplum217]

The Fire We Make (Part One)

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black Female/Plus Size/Curvy Reader, MDNI

Authors Note: Hi guys, please be kind this is my first story on here and I hope you all enjoy it . Comment and tell me your thoughts.

Warnings: very heavy smut, unprotected sex, nasty & dirty talk, mention’s of abuse, triggering topics, not suitable for anyone under 18+, oral sex, sort of a slow burn, casual sex, fluff, use of the N word, AAVE, somewhat age gap relationship, mentions of verbal abuse, use of abusive lanuage. Do not copy or steal my work.

Summary: You came back to Elizabeth, South Carolina, to handle Nana Rosalyn’s land and tie up some loose ends, sign a few papers, and be on the next flight back to her real life. Simple. Or at least, that’s what she thought. Enter Terry Richmond: ex-Marine, built like a damn problem, and apparently living in your grandmother’s house like it’s his own. He’s quiet, unreadable, and way too fine for your peace of mind. Between the thick summer heat, old memories creeping in, and the way Terry keeps looking at you like he sees straight through you, one thing is clear…..This trip might not be so simple after all.

They say there’s no place like home, and maybe once upon a time, you would’ve agreed. Back when summers here meant running barefoot through the grass, shelling peas with Nana on the front porch, and falling asleep to the sound of crickets and old gospel humming through the walls. But that was a long time ago. Before life had a chance to show you just how cruel it could be. Now, sitting in front of your grandmother’s house, all you feel is the weight of everything you tried to outrun. The air is thick, heavy with that signature South Carolina heat, clinging to your skin like a second layer. Even the damn trees look the same—tall, unmoving, watching you like they know you don’t belong here anymore.

This place holds secrets. Buried in the dirt, woven into the foundation of this house, settled deep in your bones no matter how much distance you put between you and it. You swore you’d never come back. Swore you left this town and everything in it behind the moment your father died and your mother made it clear she wanted nothing to do with his side of the family. And yet, here you are. Staring at the same porch you once sat on as a little girl, knees scraped up from playing too rough, hands sticky from fresh peaches Nana sliced up just for you. Except now, Nana is gone. And her house—this land—is yours. The air inside the rental car was thick, heavy with the kind of heat that made it hard to breathe. The A/C worked overtime, but it was barely spitting out enough cool air to do anything besides tease your skin. The heat still clung to you like an unwanted memory, curling around your neck, sticking to the crease of your thighs, making your tank top feel like a second skin.

You gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead at the house that used to feel like a second home—but now? Now, it just felt like a reminder of everything you tried to outrun. Your stomach twisted, nerves tangling themselves into something tight and uncomfortable. You hadn’t stepped foot in this place in years. Hadn’t even had a reason to. Not since—You inhaled sharply, cutting the thought off before it could sink its teeth in.It wasn’t like you had much of a choice being here now. Your grandmother’s passing made sure of that. And as much as you wanted to sit here, let the A/C struggle against the heat, and pretend you weren’t parked in front of the very place you swore you’d never come back to… you knew you couldn’t avoid it forever.

But damn, if you didn’t want to try. The loud buzz of your phone rattling against the cup holder snapped you out of your thoughts. The sudden sound made you flinch, your heart kicking up like you’d just been caught doing something you had no business doing. You blinked, shaking off the moment before grabbing your phone and swiping the screen without even checking the caller ID.

“Girl,” you groaned, already knowing who it was.

“I know that ain’t attitude I hear,” Tasha’s voice came through clear, dragging her words like she already knew what time it was.

“Of course it’s a damn attitude, I’m hot, sticky and do you know I had to drive a whole 4 hours from the damn airport?!” you grumbled, shifting in your seat.

“This ain’t my scene, Tasha. I’m sweating, my thighs sticking together, and the air out here smells like—�� You paused, inhaling deeply. “Like grass, hot stank wood, and somebody’s granddaddy’s chewing tobacco. I ain’t cut out for this country-ass shit.”

Tasha cackled on the other end. “Now girl, your ass been there for all of five minutes and already ready to run back to the city?”

You sighed dramatically, wiping at the light sheen of sweat on your chest. “Girl, I ain’t even turned the damn car off yet.”

“The way your Nana used to talk about that place, you’d think it was paradise.” She snickered.

You snorted, side-eyeing the house. “Meanwhile, I pull up, and it’s giving—”

“Ghetto woods.” Tasha cut in, taking the thought right from your brain as if she was looking through it.

“Exactly.” You rolled your eyes, glancing at the property that inspite of it being ages since you had been there, things looked pretty decent.

Tasha hummed knowingly. “And yet, here you are.”

“Not because I wanna be here Tasha.. You know that,” you shook your head, inhaling deep againing as a exasperated sigh left your sticky gloss filled lips, “If it were up to me, I would have let my uncle’s and drunk fool of an aunt fight over this place.” You added, with a nonchalant shrug.

“Didn’t you tell me that none of your daddy’s siblings were her kids? So how in the hell would that even have worked?” Tasha questioned, and rightfully so.

None of your father’s siblings belonged to your sweet Nana Rosalyn. They were products of her late husband’s constant infidelities during their entire relationship and even part of their marriage. She had been young when she married him, head over heels for a man who sold her dreams but only ever delivered nightmares. And when the truth of his betrayals became undeniable, she made one thing clear—she wasn’t having no damn kids by a man who couldn’t keep his vows. But then life played its own hand.

Your father came later, unexpectedly, and he was her one and only, her redemption after years of being shackled to a man who never deserved her. And because he was born from love and not betrayal, Nana cherished him more than anything in this world. That alone was enough to breed resentment.

The siblings never could stay on one page. Too much history, too much pain, too much deep-rooted hate for the way your father had been the baby and the favorite. Your grandfather’s other children—some older than your father by decades—never let him forget that he was the only one born into real love, not just obligation. They carried that bitterness, wielded it like a knife, slicing through any chance of peace in the family.

And Nana? She may have loved them in her own way, but she wasn’t blind. She saw how they moved, how they made her son’s life hell, how they took every opportunity to remind him that, in their eyes, he was an outsider in his own bloodline. So, she made a decision. She wrote them out of her will. All of them.

Every last one of your grandfather’s children got nothing but the memories they made and the grudges they refused to let go of. Instead, she left everything to your father. And when he passed, she made sure that her estate—her house, her land, every last piece of what she worked her whole life for—would go to you. Because she knew they would never do right by her legacy. And truth be told? You didn’t blame her one bit.

Still, you never could understand how she stayed. How she spent years, decades, by the side of a man who disrespected her with every child he brought home. How she smiled and cooked and raised kids that weren’t even hers. How she carried the weight of a marriage that gave her nothing but heartache. If it had been you? That man would’ve met his damn maker on some railroad tracks.

“It wouldn’t have worked because she didn’t leave their asses a damn thing, not one fucking dime or penny. I can’t really say I blame her though because she took good care of them and when she needed somebody, those greedy motherfuckas weren't there.” You huffed, tone bitter and cold at the thought of how none of your father’s siblings even showed up for him, once he got sick.

Tasha let out a low whistle on the other end. “Damn. So Nana just cut them off completely?”

“Completely.” You adjusted in your seat, the leather burning the back of your thighs. “She ain’t leave them a damn thing. No land, no money, not even a ‘God bless you’ in that will. Just my daddy, and when he passed, it all came to me.”

Tasha hummed, her tone knowing. “And that’s why they got all that hate in their hearts.”

“Like I give a damn.” You rolled your eyes, reaching for your water bottle. The condensation dripped onto your fingers as you took a swig, but the lukewarm liquid didn’t do much against the heat. “I just need to handle this shit and get the fuck back to New York. I ain’t got time for all this country backwoods drama. This place suffocates me.”

“Girl, you've been there ten minutes… And you already sound like you are fighting for your life. ” She giggled, making you roll your eyes again.

“Because I am,” you stressed, flipping the sun visor down and fanning yourself with the nearest piece of mail you found in the passenger seat. “I step outside, and I swear the air is thick like molasses. The trees leaning in too damn close, like they trying to hear my business. I can’t even breathe right.”

Tasha cackled, fully enjoying your suffering. “You sound so damn dramatic.”

“Ain’t shit dramatic about the truth, Tasha,” you shot back. “I need to get in here, get this property situation squared away, and then I’m ghost. I’m going back to where the streets don’t smell like wet grass, and the heat don’t feel like it got hands.”

Tasha smacked her lips. “Mmhmm. Keep talking that ‘I’m leaving soon’ shit. Something tell me you gon’ be there longer than you think.”

You sucked your teeth, flipping her off even

though she couldn’t see it. “Yeah, alright. Let me get off this phone before I melt in this damn car.”

Tasha laughed again. “Hit me later. And don’t get your thick ass into any mess.”

You snorted. “Me? Never.”

With that, you ended the call, tossing the phone back into the cup holder. Taking one last deep breath, you reached for the door handle, already bracing yourself for the suffocating heat waiting outside. The sooner you handled this, the sooner you could leave. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. Immediately, the heat wraps around you like a thick-ass quilt fresh out the dryer.

“Damn,” you mutter, shifting your shorts as you grab your bag from the backseat. The old house stands in front of you, still the same shade of off-white, still with that wrap-around porch your Nana used to sit on every evening with her sweet tea. The screen door creaks when you walk up the steps, but you aren’t worried. You already know where the key is. Just like when you were little, it sits right under the worn-out mat. You bend down, grab it, and unlock the door, stepping into the house. The air smells like lemons, cedarwood, and something else you can’t quite place. Your fingers brush over the familiar wooden banister as you walk through the hallway, a strange mix of comfort and melancholy settling in your chest. Just as you were about to sit your purse to the side, the sound of sudden footsteps alerted you. You paused your movements as you listened closely to the steps nearing closer, coming from the end of the hall. Immediately the unfamiliar scent you had picked up on earlier, became stronger as the heavy steps came towards the living area. Soon the footsteps halted and you

You froze and your breath caught in your throat as your eyes snapped toward the hallway. And then, stepping around the corner, a man appeared. A very fine, very built, very wet man. Fresh out the shower, droplets still clung to his deep caramel skin, highlighting every hard-cut muscle like he was sculpted straight out of bronze. A white towel sat dangerously low on his hips, barely hanging on, and his broad, glistening chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths. His shoulders were massive, arms thick with veins that ran down to strong, capable hands. But his face? Strong jaw. Full lips. A nose that screamed royalty. And his eyes—God, his eyes—a stormy mix of hazel and gray that shifted with the light, catching hints of ocean blue, hell maybe even green when the sun hit them just right. For a second, neither of you moved but then—

“Who the hell are you?” His voice was deep, rough, carrying an authority that made your stomach flip.

“NO! Who in the hell are you?” you shrieked back, stepping further into the house but keeping a tight grip on your car keys—because you might just have to stab this man.

His brows furrowed slightly, gaze flicking over you like he was assessing whether you were a threat. “I live here. What the hell you doin’ breaking in?”

You damn near choked. “Breaking in?! I live here!”

His nostrils flared slightly before something in his expression shifted. His shoulders eased, his jaw relaxed just a fraction, and then he exhaled like something just clicked.

“Wait…” He dragged a hand down his face, water trailing along his fingers. “You—You Rosalyn’s granddaughter?”

Your chest still rose and fell from the adrenaline rush. “Yeah. Who’s asking?”

“Terry, Terry Richmond..” He said like that was supposed to mean something to you. When you just stared, he nodded toward the mantle, where an old framed photo of your Nana and you sat beside a dusty Bible. “She used to talk about you all the time. Should’ve recognized you.”

You blinked. Once. Twice. “You mean to tell me my grandmother didn’t just leave me this house, she left me a roommate? Just great…” Your voice trailed off, annoyance seeping from your tone. Terry smirked at you, slow and knowing, and somehow, that tiny expression made him look even finer. He leaned against the doorway like he had all the time in the world, eyes dragging over you now like he was trying to figure you out. You instantly felt uncomfortable under his gaze as crossed your arms, shifting your weight to one hip.

“So, you’re telling me you were my Nana’s caretaker?” You suspiciously questioned.

“That’s exactly what I’m tellin’ you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “If that’s true, how come I ain’t see you at her funeral?” You tilted your head, watching him closely. “You supposed to have been close to her, right? Where were you?”

His jaw tightened slightly, but his expression stayed unreadable. “I was there.”

Your lips parted, but he cut you off before you could press him.

“I sat in the back.” His voice was even, calm. “Ain’t family, so I kept my distance.” His stormy eyes flickered with something unreadable as he added, “Ain’t too fond of church anyway.”

You almost called his bluff, ready to argue, but then—

A memory flashed in your mind.

Most of that day was a blur, but… there was someone sitting alone at the back of the church. A man, broad and still, his head dipped low, hands clasped together like he was deep in thought—or prayer. He never moved, never spoke, just sat there, solid as stone, while grief and sorrow swirled around the room.

It could’ve been him. But then again… your memory of that day was shaky at best.

You had gotten high out of your mind just to get through it. Hit a blunt in your car before even stepping foot in that church. And then there was the tequila—more than a few shots—because there was no way in hell you were about to face your father’s side of the family sober. The whole funeral was a blur. You barely remembered the service, barely remembered speaking. Even now, when you tried to pull up details, they slipped through your fingers like water. Still… you felt like you should remember someone as fine as him. Your eyes flickered over him again—the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his towel clung just low enough to test your focus, those ocean-storm eyes watching you with quiet patience.

Yeah. There was no way you wouldn’t have noticed him.

“…Hmph.” You didn’t realize you made the sound out loud until his lips twitched.

“That a problem?” he asked, voice edged with amusement.

You rolled your eyes. “No. Just making sure you ain’t lying.”

He huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he continued to lean his body on the doorframe, still way too at ease for your liking. Something about him told you he was telling the truth. Despite the weirdness of finding out you suddenly had a damn roommate, you had to admit—it was kind of a relief. At least you wouldn’t have to struggle dragging your suitcases inside by yourself. But asking him for help? Yeah. That was the real challenge.

You cleared your throat, plastering on your sweetest smile as you tilted your head slightly. “Umm… so Terry, is it?”

“Mmhmm.” He raised an eyebrow, his full lips twitching like he already knew where this was going.

You hesitated, shifting on your feet. “You mind helping me with my luggage?”

Terry let out a low chuckle, deep and rich, before shaking his head. “After you just basically called me a liar?” He sucked his teeth. “Your Nana wasn’t lying when she said you was a piece of work. Said your little ass always needed a good spanking.”

For some damn reason, that sent a tingle straight to your pussy, making you shift uncomfortably. You quickly cleared your throat, rolling your eyes to cover your reaction. “Whatever. You helping or not?”

His smirk deepened, eyes darkening just a little as he let the moment linger. Then, after a beat, he pushed off the doorframe. “Yeah, yeah. Just let me get some clothes on first.” He gave you a lazy once-over before adding, “Can’t have the helpless princess out here struggling, now can I?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “I ain’t helpless.”

“Uh-huh.” Terry just laughed under his breath and shook his head as he turned toward the hallway. You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t stop yourself from glancing down as he walked away. And damn. His back was all muscle, broad and defined, tapering into a tight waist. And that ass? Whew. Tight, round, sitting just right in that towel. You didn’t even realize you were staring until he suddenly glanced over his shoulder.

Busted.

You quickly averted your gaze, looking anywhere but at him. But you weren’t the only one caught slipping. Because as you quickly moved past him to head upstairs to your old room, you felt his eyes trailing down, and lingering on the curve of your thick thighs before he snapped his gaze back up, clearing his throat. As Terry disappeared down the hall to throw on some clothes, you made your way up the stairs, your feet moving on autopilot toward your old bedroom. The door creaked as you pushed it open, and the moment you stepped inside, nostalgia wrapped around you like a thick, heavy blanket.

Everything was still in place. The same twin bed with the floral comforter Nana Rosalyn had bought you when you were ten. The same wooden dresser, still covered in stickers you had no business putting on there. Even the faint scent of lavender and brown sugar lingered in the air, like Nana had just been in here yesterday and not… Your throat tightened as you swallowed against the thought. You hadn’t really let yourself think about it—her being gone. You’d done everything you could to avoid feeling it, pushing it down so deep you could almost pretend it wasn’t real. But standing here, surrounded by all these pieces of your childhood, it hit you like a gut punch. She was actually gone and now you were here, back in this house that held more love than you’d ever felt anywhere else, but she wasn’t.

Your vision blurred as you ran your fingers over the old wooden vanity, tracing the edges where the paint had started to chip. A lump formed in your throat, but before you could get too lost in your feelings—

Your phone buzzed loud as hell from your pocket.

With a sharp inhale, you wiped at your eyes and pulled it out, already groaning when you saw the name on the screen. It was your darling mother dearest, the last person you wanted to speak to at the moment. You debated letting it go to voicemail, but you already knew she’d just keep calling. So, with a deep sigh, you answered.

“Hello?” You took a seat on the edge of your old bed.

“Took you long enough.” Her voice was dry, clipped. No hey baby, no how was your trip? Just straight to the point, like always. “Did you make it?”

You clenched your jaw. “Yeah, I’m here..”

“Hmph.” A pause. Then, “Well, please hurry up and sell that damn place. I told your daddy when he was alive to put that woman in a home and get rid of it.”

Your grip on the phone tightened, anger bubbling up fast. “That woman was my grandmother… and your mother in law–”

“And your father’s biggest mistake,” she shot back, voice sharp as glass. “He let that old country woman manipulate him his whole life. Should’ve cut the cord a long time ago instead of running behind her like a lost puppy.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling deeply through your nose. “You know what, Ma? I don’t wanna do this with you right now.”

She let out a dramatic sigh, the kind she always did when she was about to make you feel like you were the problem. “Oh, please. I’m just trying to get you to do the smart thing for once. That house ain’t nothing but a money pit. Sell it and move on.”

You bit down on your tongue so hard you swore you tasted blood. Before you could say anything else, she switched gears, her tone suddenly shifting into something damn near sweet. “By the way, did you get that link I sent you?”

Your stomach dropped.

You knew exactly what she was talking about, but you played dumb anyway. “What link?”

“The link to the doctor,” she said, like it should’ve been obvious. “The one I told you about for the weight loss surgery. Dr. Reynolds. He’s the best in Atlanta. Books up fast, so you need to get on it. His prices are fairly reasonable and I think he accepts most major insurances.”

“Wow. Not even ten minutes into this conversation, and you already back on that shit.” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head.

“Oh, don’t start,” she huffed. “I’m helping you. You’d actually be able to keep a man if you lost some of that weight.”

There it was. That same damn wound she’d been digging into your whole life. You could still hear her voice from when you were a kid, standing in front of the mirror in some dress she’d picked out, sucking in your stomach while she pinched at your waist.

“No man wants a fat wife, baby. You don’t wanna end up like those big, miserable women who can’t even get a date.”

And then your daddy, always stepping in, always fighting for you.

“Leave her alone, Monique. She’s perfect just the way she is.”

But your mama never listened. Not then, and definitely not now.

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to stay calm. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Oh, so you like struggling to find clothes in your size? You like being the biggest one in the room?” she snapped. “I don’t know why you’re so damn stubborn. I’m trying to help you, and you act like I’m the enemy.”

You let out a humorless chuckle. “Maybe because you are…”

She gasped like you’d just slapped her. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you said, voice flat. “And I’m done talking about this.”

Silence stretched between you for a moment before she scoffed. “Fine. Be fat and alone for the rest of your life. See if I care.” And with that, the line went dead. You pulled the phone away from your ear, staring at the screen until it blurred. You shouldn’t have been surprised. This was classic Monique Walker. Still, it hurt like hell. Tears slipped down your cheeks before you even realized they’d fallen. Your hand tightened around your phone as you gritted your teeth, voice barely above a whisper but thick with emotion.

“I swear, I fucking hate her.” You seethed. The words felt heavy leaving your mouth, but damn if they weren’t true in that moment. You swiped at your face roughly, sniffling, before your eyes drifted over to the small wooden dresser in the corner. Your breath caught as your gaze landed on a framed photo of Nana Rosalyn, her warm brown eyes staring back at you, lips curved into that soft smile she always had whenever she looked at you. She had loved you, no conditions, no judgments, no backhanded comments about your weight or your worth. Just pure, unshakable love.

You exhaled, blinking back more tears as you whispered, “I miss you, Nana. I wish you were here.”

The air in the room felt heavier, like she was listening. Like she was there in some way. You let yourself sit with the feeling for a moment, let yourself pretend you weren’t completely alone. Then the sound of footsteps and the scrape of something heavy against the floor made you snap back to reality. You turned just as Terry strolled in, carrying both of your heavy-ass suitcases like they weighed nothing. His arms flexed with each effortless step, muscles glistening with a light sheen of sweat, the white ribbed wife beater he had on stretching tight across his chest. His cargo shorts hung low on his hips, showcasing strong, toned thighs, and with every movement, the fabric shifted just enough to make your thoughts derail.

Damn….

Toni Braxton’s You’re Makin’ Me High played faintly in the back of your mind, slow and sultry, like the universe was tryna set you up. Your thighs clenched involuntarily as heat licked up your spine. This nigga was too damn fine, and he knew it. You barely heard whatever the hell he was saying because your brain had short-circuited the second he stepped into the room, muscles on display like some damn fantasy come to life. It wasn’t until his deep voice cut through the fog in your head, low and laced with something you couldn’t quite place, that you realized you were staring.

“You good?”

Your breath hitched abruptly. “H-Huh?”

His hazel-gray eyes flickered over your face, studying you. “You was cryin’?”

You blinked fast, quickly wiping at your damp cheeks, trying to play it off. “Uh… yeah. But I’m fine. Just… thinking about my grandma. It’s been a while since I’ve been here.”

Terry didn’t say anything right away. He just set your suitcases down near the foot of the bed, then leaned back against the wall, arms crossing over his broad chest. His eyes never left your face, unreadable and steady, like he was taking in more than just your words.

“Yeah,” he said after a beat, voice softer now. “I know how that feel.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling a little too exposed under his gaze. “You ever lost somebody close?”

His jaw twitched slightly. “Yeah.”

The way he said it—short, clipped, like he wasn’t ready to unpack that—made you nod and let it go. Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable. Just… thick.

Heavy.

Charged.

Terry’s eyes lingered on you a second longer before he exhaled through his nose, pushing off the wall. “Aight, well, if you need help with anything else, just let me know.” He turned to leave, and you should’ve let him go. Should’ve just said thanks and let him walk out. But instead, before you even knew what you were doing, the words tumbled out.

“Terry.”

He stopped, looking at you over his shoulder, brow raised slightly. “What’s up?”

You hesitated, lips parting, then closing again as you tried to figure out what the hell you were even about to say. You just… didn’t want to be alone. Not right now.

“…Never mind,” you murmured, shaking your head. “It’s nothing.”

Terry didn’t press. He just gave you a long, lingering look before nodding once.

“Aight, then.” And with that, he walked out, leaving you alone with your thoughts—and the lingering heat he’d left in the room.

“Heavenly father give me the strength.” You sighed, flopping backwards on the old childhood bed. You had no idea how you were not only going to survive cleaning out your grandmother’s home of history, and memories. But now you had to figure out how you were going to do all of that with an extremely sexy and fine added edition to the puzzle. Your nana always had a way of being funny, even in the afterlife it seemed.

The heat had been relentless all day, and after everything—the long drive, the tension with your mother, the weight of being back in this house—you needed to wash it all away. Stepping into the shower, you let the cool water run over your skin, sighing as it soothed you, easing the sticky film of sweat and stress clinging to your body. The scent of your Dove vanilla & shea body wash filled the air, mixing with the lingering humidity as you lathered yourself, fingers gliding over curves that you tried not to think too much about. But the moment you stepped out and reached for your towel, reality smacked you in the face. It barely fit. You huffed, tugging at the edges, trying to cover as much as possible, but no matter how you adjusted, something was exposed. Your thighs, thick and soft. The curve of your ass peeking from the bottom. Your cleavage straining against the top. Your mother’s voice slithered into your head, uninvited.

You need to do something about that weight. A man isn’t going to want all that.

You swallowed, turning toward the mirror, your fingers instinctively gripping the towel tighter as you stared at your reflection. Your stomach wasn’t flat. Your thighs touched. Your arms weren’t slim. Maybe she was right. Maybe— A sharp knock at the door startled you, making you jump. Before you could even react, the door swung open.

Terry stepped inside like he owned the place, holding an envelope, his mouth already moving. “Your Nana left you a letter, figured you’d—” His words stopped short. His entire body stilled. Your breath caught in your throat.

You didn’t know if it was the shock of him barging in unannounced or the way his stormy gray, hazel-green eyes flicked down—slow and deliberate, like a man taking in a sight he knew he wasn’t supposed to see but couldn’t help himself. His gaze dragged over you, over the bare curve of your thighs, the deep dip of your cleavage, the towel that did little to hide any of it. And for a split second—just a split second—you saw sensual lust. Something dark and unreadable flashing in his eyes before he blinked it away, locking his expression into something neutral. Like he hadn’t just been openly devouring you with his eyes.

“Terry, what the hell?! Ever heard of knocking?” You yanked the towel tighter, heat rushing to your face. His gaze lifted to yours, slow and unbothered, as he leaned casually against the doorframe, his biceps flexing just enough to make you want to scream.

“Didn’t know you’d be indecent,” he said smoothly, though his voice was just the slightest bit rougher than before.

“I just got out the shower!” you hissed, shifting your weight, hyper-aware of how exposed you were. “What do you want?”

Terry, still infuriatingly relaxed, held up the envelope. “Your Nana left you a letter. I was instructed that soon as you arrive to give it to you.”

You glared. “And you couldn’t wait until I wasn’t half-naked before busting up in here?”

He shrugged, eyes glinting with something too smug for your liking. “Wasn’t expecting a show.”

Your mouth fell open. “Boy, if you don’t—”

“You gon’ take this letter or keep fussin’?” he interrupted, stepping closer, holding the envelope just out of reach like he wanted to make you work for it.

You snatched it from his hand, still scowling. “Get out.”

But he didn’t move right away.

Instead, his gaze lingered, just for a second too long. Just enough to make your thighs press together, to make your skin prickle with awareness. Then, finally, he turned to leave. But right before stepping out, he glanced back over his shoulder, his smirk damn near lethal.

“Nice towel, by the way.” And just like that, he was gone.

You stood there, heart pounding, body still tingling from the heat of his stare.

This man was gonna be a problem, you thought to yourself. You flopped down on the bed, still clutching the towel like it was the only thing keeping you from completely losing your mind.

“That nigga done lost his damn mind,” you muttered, shaking your head. “Barging in here like he payin’ rent.” Your body was still humming from the intensity of his stare, the way he’d looked at you like he saw everything and had the nerve to act like it ain’t affect him. Like he wasn’t phased, but you knew he was. And now, here you were, sitting on your old bed, legs still damp from the shower, wrapped up in this raggedy-ass towel, heart still racing. You sighed, finally turning your attention to the envelope in your lap. Your childhood nickname was written in familiar, neat cursive across the front.

Your heart clenched as a lump formed in your throat. Your fingers trembled slightly as you opened it, pulling out a piece of aged, cream-colored paper. You could almost smell her as you unfolded it—cocoa butter, vanilla, and something soft, like the scent of home. Then you began to read.

My Sweet Sunshine,

If you’re reading this, that means the Good Lord finally saw fit to call me home. Now, don’t you go sittin’ there cryin’, ‘cause you know I lived a full life, and I ain’t scared of no Heaven. I done raised my babies, spoiled my grandbabies, and loved with my whole heart. That’s more than some folks ever get to do.

Sunshine, I know you didn’t want to come back here. I know that city’s got its hooks in you, and I ain’t mad at it—never was. You always had big dreams, always wanted more than this little town could offer. But baby, don’t you ever let nobody make you feel like you ain’t enough just as you are. Not your mama, not them folks whisperin’ behind your back, nobody.

You always was my bright star, even when you ain’t see it yourself. Even when you was a little thing, sittin’ on my porch, talkin’ ‘bout how you didn’t feel pretty enough, or small enough, or good enough. I used to tell you then, and I’ll tell you now—you are enough. God made you just the way you s’posed to be. Don’t let the world tell you otherwise.

Now, about this house—I know it might not mean much to you right now, but baby, this ain’t just wood and nails. This is our history. This is where I loved your granddaddy, where I raised your daddy, where I held you in my arms and rocked you to sleep when life got too big for you. It ain’t just a house—it’s home.

I don’t expect you to stay forever, but I do expect you to sit with it for a little while. Let the memories wrap around you. Let yourself feel whatever you been runnin’ from. And don’t you let nobody make you do nothin’ you don’t wanna do. Not even your mama.

Take your time, baby. I love you bigger than the sky.

Always, Nana

Tears blurred your vision before you even finished. You pressed the letter to your chest, inhaling shakily…She knew… She always knew. And just like that, all the emotions you’d been pushing down, all the grief, all the anger, all the damn confusion, came bubbling up to the surface. You curled your legs up onto the bed, hugging the letter like it was the last piece of her you had left. And for the first time since you got here… you let yourself cry.

As you wiped the last of your tears away, you pulled yourself together, slipping into a simple oversized ‘90s-themed graphic T-shirt that stopped just below your ass, paired with black boy shorts that hugged your curves. Your fur slides slid easily onto your feet, accentuating the shimmer of your two delicate anklets against your smooth brown skin. Your toes, freshly done in a clean French acrylic set, peeked out perfectly, proof that even on your worst days, you refused to neglect the little things that made you feel like you. Your damp curls were drying into their natural coils, wild and free, and for the first time since stepping into this house, you felt somewhat like yourself again. Then, just as you were about to head downstairs, voices floated up from the front door. A woman’s voice. Sweet, a little too breathy, laced with the kind of forced shyness that women used when they were trying to be cute. You paused, leaning slightly against the railing as you listened.

“Terry, you really ain’t have to do all that. I swear, you a lifesaver.”

“Mmhmm,” came Terry’s deep, unbothered reply.

You stepped forward just enough to peek over the banister, instantly rolling your eyes at the sight in front of you. A woman—slim, with long curly hair cascading down her back, a high round booty sitting just right, and a rack that was damn near spilling out of her little sundress—was standing way too close to Terry, handing him a plate wrapped in foil. And the way she was looking at him? Yeah. She was on that.

“Oh, and here’s the money I promised you.” She slipped a few bills into his hand, her fingers lingering a little too long against his palm. “And I made you a little something as a thank you… some smothered pork chops, greens, mac and cheese, and cornbread.”

You smirked slightly. Cornbread looking a little dry.

Terry took the plate with a nod, glancing down at it. “Appreciate it, Celeste.”

Celeste. Figures.

She bit her lip, her eyes scanning over him like he was a damn menu. “And I made a little pound cake too. My mama’s recipe. But I guess you’ll just have to tell me how it tastes next time I see you.”

You sucked your teeth. Girl, be for real.

Terry, still unreadable as ever, just smirked slightly, shifting the plate to one hand. “I’ll let you know.”

Celeste giggled, reaching up to play with a stray curl like she knew she was the baddest thing standing in that doorway. “You know, Terry… you should really stop by sometime. I got plenty of food, and my son’s at his grandma’s for the summer, so…” She trailed off, her meaning clear. You folded your arms, arching a brow as you waited to see how he was gonna play it.

Terry, ever cool, leaned one broad shoulder against the doorframe, looking down at her with a knowing expression. “That right?”

She nodded, batting her lashes. “Mmhmm. You know, a man like you shouldn’t have to eat alone.”

Terry exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “Celeste.”

“Hmm?” She replied breathily, trying to act innocent.

“I ain’t interested.” The words landed so casually, so smoothly, that for a second, she didn’t even process them.

But then her lips parted slightly, her cheeks darkening in embarrassment. “Oh… um, well…”

“But I do appreciate the food,” he added, nodding toward the plate. “Your little boy needed that room fixed up, so it wasn’t no big deal.”

Celeste recovered quickly, forcing a laugh. “Right, right. Well, um… enjoy, Terry.”

He gave her a simple nod before closing the door, shaking his head as he turned toward the kitchen. You, still standing at the top of the stairs, watched the whole thing unfold, biting back a smirk. Celeste was pretty, no doubt. Probably more his type. But the way he had shut her down so smoothly? Interesting…. Very interesting. You padded down the stairs, moving casually into the kitchen, acting like you hadn’t just been eavesdropping on that whole embarrassing exchange. Terry was standing at the counter, peeling back the foil on the plate, and the expression on his face had you fighting back a laugh. He looked… disturbed. You leaned against the fridge, arms folded as you watched him poke at the smothered pork chops with his fork. The sauce looked a little too gray for comfort, the mac and cheese had a strange, gluey texture, and the cornbread? Yeah… dry as hell. He let out a slow breath, tilting the plate slightly as if inspecting it under better lighting was gonna change the fact that it looked like a crime scene.

“Damn, she really put her whole heart into that, huh?” You smirked.

Terry cut his eyes at you, his expression flat. “Don’t start.”

You laughed, moving toward the cabinets. “I’m just sayin’. If you value your life, you might wanna pass on that.”

He set the plate down, shaking his head. “Damn shame. I did all that work and got paid in food poisoning.”

You chuckled, pulling out a pan and setting it on the stove. “Lucky for you, I actually know how to cook.”

Terry leaned against the counter, arms crossing over his chest as he watched you. “Oh yeah?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, boy. I can throw down. What you want?”

He smirked slightly. “Something that won’t require me to get my stomach pumped.”

“Keep talkin’ shit, and I’ma lace your food with extra salt.” You shot him a playful glare, going towards the fridge to see if there was even anything cookable for you to whip up a quick meal. Terry chuckled, watching you move around the kitchen with an ease that he could appreciate.

“Aight, then little mama. Let’s see what’chu workin with.” He joked, licking his plump bottom lip. You fought the surge of butterflies in your tummy as your french acrylic nails gripped the counter, to steady yourself. Turning toward the fridge, you pull it open and blink in surprise at the contents—fresh meats, crisp produce, eggs, dairy. Whoever stocked this place before you arrived really knew what they were doing.

“You did all this?” You softly ask, glancing over your shoulder at Terry.

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Had groceries delivered before you got here. Figured you’d want a stocked fridge.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying not to let that small, thoughtful gesture soften you. Instead, you hum and start pulling out the ingredients.

“Alright,” you say, setting things down on the counter. “I’m making honey-glazed salmon, garlic butter asparagus, and jasmine rice.”

Terry raises an eyebrow. “Hony glazed?”

You smirk, not letting him off the hook. “What? You thought I was only good for frying chicken and making cornbread?”

His lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile. “Didn’t say that.”

“Mm-hmm.” You grab a cutting board and get to work, dicing, seasoning, and moving around the kitchen like it’s second nature. The wine Nana he had ordered as well was surprisingly good, and after a few sips, the tension from the day starts to slipped off your shoulders.

Terry watches you, quiet at first, before finally speaking up. “So… what kept you away?”

You pause for only a second before continuing to chop the asparagus. “What do you mean?”

“From your Nana. You used to visit all the time, then you just stopped.” His eyes don’t waver. The question hits harder than you expect.

You swallow and focus on the cutting board. “My mom.”

Terry stays quiet, just waiting, giving you the space to continue.

You sigh, stirring the honey glaze in a small saucepan. “Nana was my dad’s mother. When he died, my mom didn’t see the point in us coming down here anymore. She never liked my Nana anyway.”

“Why?” His eyebrow perked up.

You let out a humorless laugh and shake your head. “Because she’s an elitist. My mom grew up privileged, went to the best schools, rubbed elbows with all the right people. She married my dad because he was successful, but she never respected where he came from. And when he passed, she made it clear that his side of the family didn’t fit into her world.”

Terry’s gaze feels heavy, and the weight of it makes your throat tighten.

You flip the salmon in the pan, watching the glaze caramelize. “I wanted to come back,” you admit softly. “I always told myself I would. I promised Nana I’d visit.” You exhale shakily. “But life kept getting in the way… and now, I’ll never get that time back.”

The silence that follows is thick—understanding without pity, heavy without pressure.

You wipe the corner of your eye before turning to face him fully. “But, um… I don’t really wanna keep digging into that.” You force a small smile. “What about you? How the hell did you end up here, taking care of my grandma and her land?”

Terry is quiet for a long time, his jaw shifting slightly. Then, finally, he speaks.

“I got out the Marines a few years ago,” he says, his voice steady. “Came back home, trying to get my life right, but shit has a way of following me...”

Something about the way he says it makes your stomach twist.

“What do you mean? Shit like what?” You cautiously questioned, not wanting to get all up in this man’s business, but at the same time you felt you had the slightest right. Terry stayed quiet for a long time, his jaw shifting slightly. Then, finally, he spoke.

“My cousin got into some trouble with the law a few years back,” he said, voice steady. “I went down to bail him out, but I ended up getting into some shit myself. Crooked-ass cops—racist bastards—decided they ain’t like me asking too many questions. Things got ugly real fast.”

Something about the way he says it made your stomach twist. “How bad did it get?”

Terry’s hazel-green eyes darken, something distant flickering in them. “Damn near died over it,” he says, voice calm but heavy.

“Oh, I’m um.. sorry to hear that.” You felt bad for even asking. Terry only hummed in response as a somewhat comfortable silence fell over the kitchen. You decided to drop the 21 questions all together and focus on finishing up the meal you were in the midst of preparing as he just quietly watched every move you made. The air inside the house was cooler than the sticky, suffocating heat outside, but it wasn’t enough to stop the slow trickle of sweat at the nape of your neck. Or maybe… just maybe… it wasn’t the weather making me feel like you were burning up. You could feel Terry watching you intently. It wasn’t obvious at first—he was too smooth for that. But after a while, you noticed the weight of his gaze, the way his stormy eyes followed every move you made as you prepped the food. His attention was heavy, unreadable, but not in a way that made you uncomfortable. No, it was the opposite. It made you hot. You shifted my weight from one foot to the other, clearing your throat as you reached for the bottle of wine, pouring yourself another sip just to have something to do. Everything about this man was turning you on and you loved it and despised it. It wasn’t just the fact that he was tall—though he was definitely tall, standing at least 6’3 with a solid frame that made it clear he was no stranger to manual labor. It wasn’t just the broadness of his shoulders or the way his arms stretched the fabric of his white tank, hinting at thick, corded muscle beneath. And it wasn’t just his face, though damn—that strong jawline, full lips, and a nose that looked like it belonged on a king? Yeah, he was definitely blessed in the looks department. But it was his presence that caught you off guard. Terry Richmond wasn’t the type of man you could read at a glance. His face was unreadable, expression calm yet watchful, like he was always two steps ahead of everyone else in the room. His stormy hazel-gray eyes, rimmed with thick lashes, carried something unreadable—something sharp, calculating. And depending on how the light hit them, they almost looked ocean blue, like a hurricane was brewing behind them, waiting to be unleashed. But right now, that intensity was locked onto you. And that shit made your stomach flip.

You turned back to the stove, pretending like the weight of his gaze wasn’t burning a hole straight through your back. The kitchen was already hot as hell, but somehow, his presence made the air feel even thicker. The pot on the stove let out a soft simmer, the scent of garlic, onions, and seasoning filling the air, but you barely noticed it because Terry was still watching you. And you felt all of it. His gaze wasn’t casual. It wasn’t some absentminded glance or a passing curiosity. No, he was studying you, eyes moving slow over every dip and curve like he had all the time in the world. You weren’t new to male attention, but the way he did it? This wasn’t some hungry, obvious ogling. This was different. Intentional. Like he was learning you. Like he was figuring out what made you tick, what made you fidget, what made you heat up. And Lord, were you heating up. You adjusted your stance, shifting your weight from one leg to the other, but that only made things worse because you didn’t know he was the type of man who appreciated a body like yours. The type that saw thick thighs, wide hips, and soft curves and lingered—the kind that recognized a woman built to carry healthy babies and be just as healthy herself. And sure enough, when you glanced over your shoulder, you caught him licking his lips, eyes still locked on you like you were a full-course meal, and he was starving.

“Damn, you gon’ cook everything in the kitchen?” His voice rumbled from behind you, smooth and deep, with that natural Southern drawl that could make a woman’s knees buckle if she wasn’t careful.

You smirked, turning back to the pot. “You got a problem with a woman feeding you?”

He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through the air. “Nah, just surprised. Didn’t peg you for the domestic type.”

You scoffed, stirring the food. “Just ‘cause I can cook don’t mean I’m tryna play house with you, sir.”

That chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh, deep and rich, sending a shiver down your spine. You were too aware of him now, of the space between you and the way it was closing, little by little. The heat of his body was at your back before you even realized he had moved, and suddenly, his voice was right at your ear.

“You need any help?” His deep voice reverberated.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your fingers tightening around the spoon as his presence seemed to take up all the air in the kitchen. His body was close—too close, his heat pressing against your back, his sheer size making you feel small, even though you weren’t a small woman. The scent of his cologne—dark, musky, and clean—wrapped around you, making your head swim for a brief second. For just a moment, the energy in the room shifted. A slow, charged moment where neither of you moved, where the only sounds were the bubbling of the food on the stove and the quiet, measured breaths between you. It was subtle but impossible to ignore—the low hum of something heavy, something thick and unspoken. Then, just as quickly as it came, it passed. You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to focus, though you swore you felt him smirk behind you.

“I got it,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice even. Terry didn’t move at first, letting the moment sit before he finally stepped back, his absence somehow just as noticeable as his presence.

“Aight then,” he murmured, his voice amused.

But even as he walked away, you could feel his gaze still on you. And something told you that this slow-burn tension between you? It was just getting started. After about twenty minutes, the food is finally done, the kitchen filled with the warm, savory aroma of glazed salmon and buttered asparagus. You take your time plating everything carefully, making sure it looks just as good as it smells. Since Terry is your guest, you serve his plate first, sliding it across the counter toward him before pouring yourself another small glass of wine.

“You tryna impress me or somethin’?” he teases, eyeing the plate like he don’t quite trust it yet.

You roll your eyes, lifting your glass. “Boy, please. If I wanted to impress you, I would’ve pulled out the big guns.”

His brows lift slightly. “This ain’t the big guns?”

“Not even close.”You smirk. Terry hums like he’s considering that, then finally picks up his fork and takes a bite. He chews slowly, his face unreadable, and you find yourself leaning in slightly, waiting for his reaction.

After a few beats, he nods. “Alright, I’ll give it to you. This is good.”

You wink cutely, sipping your wine. “Told you I wouldn’t let you die in my care.”

He chuckles, deep and smooth, before digging into his plate with more enthusiasm. You pretend not to notice the way his biceps flex when he moves, how his jaw tenses up when he chews. You felt your clit pulse at the way his lips became glazed over from the moistness of the salmon.

“Told you I know what I’m doing,” you added with a nervous giggle, watching him enjoy the meal as you tried to push the naughty thoughts back and out of your mental crevices.

Terry smirks, setting his fork down just long enough to meet your gaze. “I don’t know yet. You cookin’ good, but that don’t mean you can really throw down. Anybody can follow a recipe.”

“Excuse me?” Your mouth dropped open slightly.

He shrugs, eyes dancing with amusement. “I mean, this is cute and all, but I don’t see no mac and cheese, no smothered chicken, no collard greens. Where the food that’ll have a man ready to sign over his life?”

You narrow your eyes, setting down your glass. “Oh nigga, you really talkin’ reckless now.”

He leans in slightly, grin widening. “I’m just sayin’—”

“You just saying what, exactly? That I gotta cook like somebody’s Big Mama before you give me my flowers?” You scoffed, fighting your smile.

Terry’s eyes flickered towards you with something unreadable, something dark and playful all at once. “I’m just saying… if you wanna prove you really got skills, you might have to cook for me again.”

You shake your head, laughing under your breath. “Oh, I see what this is. You tryna finesse another plate outta me.”

He smirks, grabbing his fork again. “Maybe.”

You fold your arms, eyeing him. “What do I get outta this arrangement?”

Terry lifts a brow, chewing another bite of salmon before answering. “What you want?” His voice dropping down to an even lower, sleek register. The sudden change shot an electric current straight to your pussy, making it moist and slippery. Although your lips below quivered and ached to be touched, you kept a pokerface.

“Hmm. Let’s see… If I’m cooking, then you’re cleaning.” You tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to think.

“Nah. Try again.” He scoffed.

“Uh-uh. I think that’s fair. You eat, you clean.” You playfully pouted, making him crack a small smirk at you.

“I fixed your grandma’s whole damn house. Ain’t that enough?” He countered, tone heavily amused.

You smirk, enjoying this way too much. “Oh, so now you keeping score?”

Terry leans in a little, his stormy ocean eyes glinting with something dangerous, something that makes the air between you tighten. “Nah, sweetheart. Just making sure I know what the stakes are.”

Your stomach flipped, causing heat to crawl slowly up your spine. This man was absolute trouble, and not the good kind. This man was the type to have you outside of his job, throwing bricks through his car window because he ain’t answer quick enough for your liking. This wasn’t no young nigga you were used to , this was big dawg.

You picked up your wine glass again, taking a slow sip. “Well, you let me know when you’re ready for that real meal. But just so you know… once I really start cooking for you?” You lean in slightly, voice dropping to something softer, silkier.. Almost wet and seducing. “Ain’t no going back.”

Terry’s smirk deepens, his gaze dropping—just for a second—to your lips before dragging back up to your eyes.

“That right?” he murmurs.

You swallow hard, feeling your pulse kicking up. You knew you had to get out of this here kitchen before you did something stupid.

Pushing off the counter, you grab your own plate. “Eat your food, Terry.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he digs back in. “Yeah, alright. But don’t think I’m forgetting this conversation.”

You roll your eyes, turning away—but not before catching the way he watches you, heat flickering behind that cool, unreadable expression.

Yeah, this is nigga here was definitely trouble. As you take your plate and head toward the table, you can still feel Terry’s eyes on you, the weight of his gaze heavy against your skin. You tell yourself you’re imagining it, that the warmth curling low in your belly is just the wine and not the way his voice dipped when he said that right. But then, just as you sit down, he speaks again—low, teasing, but laced with something else. Something thicker.

“Hope you know what you just started.”

You pause, your fork hovering over your plate, your pulse skipping before quickening. When you finally look up, Terry’s already focused on his food like he ain’t just sent a shiver down your spine. And just like that, the game had officially begun. You might’ve thought you were just cooking a meal, just having a little harmless banter over dinner—but Terry? He had other plans. The way he said it, the way his voice dipped into something slow and rich like molasses, told you plain as day that this was just the start. And whether you were ready for it or not…

Things were about to get real interesting.

[sogoodtoheritsvicious]

broke the sweetest promise (that you never should have made)

summary: your relationship with lando ends before it can ever really begin

parings: lando norris x ex!reader x harry styles

vicious speaks: this was supposed to be a cute little fic after i was inspired when listening to ‘electric touch’, and now it’s taken on a life of its own! i hope you enjoy this new mini series 💕 i had to make lando the bad guy, i’m sorry 😭 this is just setting the stage so there’s not a lot of harry but don’t worry, he’s in the next part!!

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liked by yourusername, harrystyles and others

lando we’re so golden ☀️

tagged yourusername

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yourusername we’re saurrr cute 💛

⤷ lando you definitely are 💛

⤷ fan1 can you put us all out of our misery and DATE ALREADY

⤷ fan2 fr!! yn’s looked like she’s been in love with lando for years and he’s been looking the same way lately 🥹

oscarpiastri two pretty best friends

⤷ yourusername missing our 3rd 😔💔

⤷ fan3 lmao oscar saw the shipping comments and said NOT on my watch 😭

⤷ oscarpiastri she can do better

⤷ lando SLOW DOWN SLOW DOWN

⤷ fan5 oscar PLEASE 😭

⤷ fan6 i fear osc isn’t joking

alexandrasaintmleux yourusername give me your hand in marriage NOW 💍💍 i’m SERIOUS

⤷ yourusername i’m all yours baby 😚

⤷ charles_leclerc i’m literally right here?

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux and?

⤷ yourusername is that supposed to mean something to us?

⤷ charles_leclerc damn okay

⤷ fan7 you got humbled so quick dkgjfjs

fan8 harry in the likes, what the hell 😭

⤷ fan9 maybe he’s an f1 fan

⤷ fan10 ooh i hope we’ll see him at a race!!

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yourusername has added to their stories

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fan1 IS MY LIFE A JOKE TO YOU

fan2 you’re crazy if you think we believe you’re just friends after this

maxverstappen1 oh my God did it finally happen?

fan3 this is basically a hard launch, right?

oscarpiastri you already know how i feel so i’ll just say that if you’re happy, i’m happy ❤️

fan4 you won’t last long, lando will get bored eventually 🤷‍♀️

yourbff bitch you have some explaining to do

fan5 omg are we about to get love songs for the first time?

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69,654 likes

tmz f1 driver lando norris and singer yn were seen in a pretty heated fight at a studio earlier tonight! apparently lando left her alone in tears. for those who don’t know, he and the singer have been best friends for a few years now, with fans recently speculating online about a relationship confirmation coming soon from the pair but those dreams were crushed when lando was spotted kissing a mystery woman on valentine’s day (see last slide).

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fan1 omg he’s such a WHORE

fan2 YN STANS WE RIDE AT DAWN 🤺

fan3 this is so sad, man. you can tell yn loves him and i thought lando loved her but clearly that isn’t true. she deserves so much better!!

fan4 leaving her alone in tears is such an evil move…lando norris you shall die by my sword

fan5 it was clear lando wasn’t ever going to see her as a serious option. she did this to herself!!

⤷ fan6 yn didn’t do anything to herself, lando is the one who keeps stringing her along, especially lately.

fan7 our girl needs to cut lando off, take time to heal and when she’s ready, move on with someone who actually loves her.

liked by yourusername

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fan1 damn tell us how you really feel 😭

fan2 this isn’t the confirmation post i wanted but i guess i’ll take it 🤷‍♀️

fan3 the fucking shade 😭😭

yourbff GET HIS ASS!

fan4 leave lando alone you weirdo

maxverstappen1 this is more information about lando than i ever wanted to know but i can appreciate what you’re doing it for

fan5 me when i lie

fan6 this is diabolical

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itsaria has added to their stories

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fan1 oh girl this is not it

fan2 this isn’t the serve you think it is

fan3 there’s still time to delete this

fan4 wow you really feel no shame in homewrecking

lando ❤️

⤷ itsaria you need to set the record straight about yn. people are in my dms calling me a homewrecker and i didn’t sign up for that shit, lando.

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lando has added to their stories

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yourusername i never wanted to bring this to social media but i was made aware that lando released a statement today that as you can see from above, is full of nothing but lies. we’ve been best friends for a few years now and i had been in love with him for almost all of them. we recently admitted our feelings for each other and decided to see where things would go between us. it was new, but we were relationship and he did cheat on me. i don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling but i haven’t seen or spoken to him since that night at the the studio and things between us are obviously not fine. i’m also pretty sure aria had no idea about me so please do not attack her. this is the last time i’m going to speak about this situation, as i want to move on with my life.

comments on this post have been limited

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liked by harrystyles, yourbff and others

theynsociety still not over taylor and yns surprise performance last night!!

view all comments

fan8 i’ve missed her so much!! she was literally glowing last night 🥹🫶

fan9 the fit!! THE HAIR!!! i have a feeling we’re about to enter her best era yet

fan10 harry’s always popping up in the most random places 😭

fan11 it’s been a long month, but clearly this break is doing wonders for her 😍

fan12 harry styles yn fan confirmed?

liked by harrystyles

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taglist: @pansexualdarling

[captain-huggy-bear]

Into the Penalty Box

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Jack has to put your son in the sin bin...

Notes: Short but I had this really fun idea for how Jack doles out consequences as a dad.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

"Jack, baby...Carter just bit Ellen." You're tugging Carter along behind you by the wrist gently, he's pouting at the entire way and dragging his feet. Ellen is in your arms sniffling and crying into your shoulder because her big brother (at the tender age of 5 years old) decided that the best way to get rid of his 'annoying' baby sister (of 2) was to bite her. Hard. On the arm.

"Let me see, baby girl." Your daughter holds her arm out to her dad, who's suitably sympathetic, cooing over the teeth marks and pressing a kiss there to 'make it better'. It brings a smile to her little face, tears starting to dry up, but leaving blotchy redness behind.

Once Jack has dealt with the issue of his baby girl crying he turns to his son who you've release your grip on knowing he's unlikely to make a run for it and has typically been pretty good at accepting punishment. Mostly because he's stubborn enough that he always wants to plead his case first.

Jack folds his arms across his chest looking down at the spitting image of himself at 5 years old, light brown near blonde curls, bright blue eyes, chubby blushing cheeks and many missing teeth. Carter is Jack, rowdy, loud, full of energy and from time to time fed up with having a baby sibling who wants his attention all the time. One day he'll grow to love it, hate when his sister stops idolising him, but for now? For now apparently biting has become his new solution and Jack had always taught him that biting was not something they did in their house.

You bounce Ellen in your arms, running a hand over her hair and down her back while you watch Jack crouch down to Carter's level. Jack, despite people's belief, was a disciplinarian. Just not in the usual way...he never shouted, he didn't scream, he didn't insult the kids, none of the typical old school dad stuff, but what he did do always seemed to work.

"Bud, you can't bite your sister."

"But she was being annoying!" It's like watching a second Jack, the way Carter folds his arms across his little chest and puffs out his cheeks as he pouts. You're surprised he didn't stomp a foot on the floor, but it seems he learnt from last time that that only got him more penalty minutes.

"I don't care, it's against the rules, bud, against the code. You've got 5 minutes in the penalty box, get." Jack points to the corner of your living room where the penalty box sits. At first the penalty box had been simply a pillow in the corner, but one summer Jack, Quinn and Luke had spent some time and money making a replica penalty box that sat perfectly in your living room. At first you'd been...less than pleased, but now it was the highlight of your parenting adventures. The way Carter would slam the little door closed, how he'd pout on the bench and drink from the water bottle you always put in there for him as he'd watch the little clock. Whenever he was in hockey gear it was made even better, especially the replica Devils Jersey Luke had gotten him one Christmas. Then it really was like watching a baby Jack sitting in the sin bin.

"But you bite mom!" Carter's face practically goes bright red with his frustration, brows so furrowed they're almost in his eyes and this time he does stomp his feet.

There's a beat of silence, one in which you do your very best not to laugh because Jack's play biting apparently has come back to haunt him. All those times he's come home and pretended to take chomp out of your arm or neck, every time he placed a kiss on your neck in front of Carter only to bite you lightly to make you laugh...

Jack tries everything in his power to remain stern, to not laugh, to not give in because fuck, he's really dug himself a hole with this one, "I nibble on your mom, I don't 'bite' her and I never hurt her. You were trying and succeeded in hurting your baby sister."

"Dad!"

"Do you want another 5 for unsportsmanlike conduct?" Jack's favourite tool whenever Carter or Ellen start to argue back to him, although mostly Carter. Ellen has yet to reach the terrible period of defiance that all toddlers go through.

"No..."

"So into the penalty box, bud." You both watch as Carter slumps off towards the box, slamming the door closed behind him, the wood and plastic wobbling slightly under the force of it.

He sits on the bench, arms crossed, glaring at the clock. Jack sets a timer for 5 minutes and you watch. There's something about watching either of the kids in the box that's interesting because you can see the moment they start to cool down and realise that maybe they're in there for a reason.

With Carter it's the way he starts to look towards Ellen, face scrunched up in guilt, biting on his little lip. You know at 2 minutes and 24 seconds in the sin bin, that Carter will never bite Ellen again and you know that he understands that he hurt her, really hurt her.

It's what has you putting her down and letting her waddle towards the box nearer to the time being over and what has you opening the box a minute early.

You lean into Jack's side and watch as Carter leans down and pulls his baby sister into a hug, before reaching for her arm and placing a kiss on the boo boo where he bite her a little too hard.

"'m sorry, Ellie. I shouldn't have bit you."

"'s okay, Cay-Cay" Because she always struggled to fully say Carter so he'd become Cay-Cay to her. She pats his cheek with her little hand and you know, you know it'll be okay, that you're raising two good kids even if they have their moments.

"Sin bin works again, and you wanted to get rid of it." Jack looks smugly down at you, all dimples and stupidly attractive smirk as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

You roll your eyes at him even as you lean further into him, "Yes, well, I guess you have good ideas sometimes...biter."

"Hey! You love when I bite you...just, maybe need to avoid the jokes around the kids...did not see that coming."

[brawberryz]

you look so pathetic...i want you

Batboys × Loser nerd! Reader

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

Jason Todd

Richard had convinced him to go on a blind date, at first he refused

But apparently Richard didn't understand the meaning of the word 'No' and he kept insisting on it all fucking week

He decided to accept just because he had nothing to do (plus he could get rid of that idiot brother)

He thought he would meet the usual girls, most likely he would just talk to her for a while and then leave

He was very surprised when he saw you entering the restaurant agitated 20 minutes late

God, you are the human representation of the fucking nerd emoji, you looked like you came out of an 80s movie

You are literally the representation of the word loser and nerd

"Hi..."

You said embarrassed as you sat at the table in front of him, you adjusted your glasses nervously

Your clothes and hair were a mess as if you had run a marathon to

"Hi"

He waved back, god he didn't think it was going to be this awkward

You and him didn't say anything for the next 20 minutes

"So... you like fnaf?"

"What?"

Jason was surprised by your question, it wasn't the best way to break the ice but it did the trick

At some point he felt like laughing, it was the first date and all you did was talk about a game.

"Although if you don't like it I can also talk about undertale or minecraft"

It was almost funny how you spent the whole date talking about indie games, comics and movies.

He just looked at you with a small smile nodding briefly, you were too focused talking about whatever you were talking about.

But he liked the sparkle and excitement in your eyes every time you talked about one of your weird tastes.

you were a complete loser

You were clearly he type

Richard Grayson

He had met you a few weeks ago, you were the kind librarian who helped him every day when he went to get a book

If he was honest he didn't read any of the books he brought from the library he only went there to see your cute face

After several failed flirtations and denied dates you decided to give him a chance

You couldn't say no to those little puppy eyes he gave you

The date had gone wonderfully and you timidly invited him to your apartment

And it was an offer that Richard couldn't refuse

The night was great, they watched some movies and spent too much time with you since when he saw the time it was too late

He told you it was time to leave but you insisted that he stay arguing that it was too late and your neighborhood was very dangerous

So just to please you he decided to stay, he was Nightwing some small time criminals weren't going to even scratch him but he still stayed with you

When you went to get blankets and pillows so he could sleep more comfortably in the guest room he decided to follow you

His surprise was great when he saw your room full of posters, manga and anime figures and other series and games

You are a big fan of many things

You saw his surprised face when he saw your room and you thought he was about to make fun of you, it was not going to be the first time someone made fun of you

You were a complete nerd and loser you were the easy target for someone to make fun of

"Sorry for the mess and everything else..."

You said embarrassed as you handed him some blankets and pillows

He just nodded with a small smile on his face

"It doesn't matter, the truth is if I'm honest I think it's pretty cool"

Those words caused a small blush on your cheeks, it was the first time someone said something good about you

He said good night to you before leaving for the guest room

That night you could barely sleep since you spent it thinking In Richard's words

he thought your tastes were cool?

Those simple words triggered something in you that you couldn't even explain

Tim Drake

Tim was a nerd, it was quite obvious and it bothered him to admit it

But his new teammate surpassed what the word nerd and loser was

The first time Bruce introduced you to him so that Tim could team up with you he could see how you became a nervous wreck

He could swear that under your gloves your hands were completely sweaty

You were a little strange, you hardly spoke but it's not like it bothered him, besides you were pretty good at fighting and solving cases

But every time he spoke to you it seemed like your brain went into automatic mode and you responded in a robotic way

But he simply didn't pay much attention to it because it wasn't even his problem

Although he wouldn't lie, sometimes you could be quite strange

He was writing another case that you were working on, this one was much more difficult than all the others and he felt that you and him would stay up all night

There was a long silence between you two, not It was awkward but you could tell you wanted to talk but your words wouldn't come out of your mouth

"Sooooo, do you like Star Wars?"

You said suddenly looking at him, he could feel your nervous gaze piercing the back of his neck

"I saw it once with my brothers"

Tim really wasn't very interested in the conversation, although he was a little surprised since it was the first time you started a conversation with him yourself

"Oh, and you liked it?"

"I kind of didn't understand much of the plot"

That was the sign you apparently needed

During the entire time you were with him in the batcave you spent time explaining the story and interesting facts about the movie

He just nodded at your words, it was the first time he saw you so focused talking about a topic, most of the time you were quiet

Although he didn't complain, your voice was quite comforting to listen to

You were quite cute when you talked about something you liked, he could see the way your voice changed to a more enthusiastic one every time you mentioned something you liked

You were a complete nerd and loser and he liked that about you

It's my first time writing romance but I think it came out pretty well, I think

Well, I just wanted to let you know that my requests are open in case anyone has any requests 🗣

[rafesslxt]

unknown number

pt. 1/2

SUMMARY: not only you are surprised when you get a drunk text from your brother that you should pick him up from a party - Topper's just as shocked as you are.

WARNINGS: Thornton!reader, brothers best friend trope, bickering, tension, quick deep talk with Topper

WORD COUNT: 1,7k

NOTE: english is not my first language | thank‘s to everyone for reading and supporting, comments and - are highly apprecaiated <3

🥥 🍋‍🟩 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼 🥭 🍍

Your body tried to make its way through the sweaty crowd dancing and drinking around you, the air thick with the scent of weed and expensive perfume. This wasn't on your agenda for tonight, getting your drunk brother out of a party, that's for sure.

"Hey sis, can u get me? I'm drunk as hell."

You weren't surprised, though. After Sarah had ditched him for John B, which was more than understandable for you but hey – Topper never wanted to listen to your advice, he seemed to try drowning the pain and hurt ego away by drinking and smoking.

The house you currently were in was familiar to you. Since Sarah's your best friend you spend a lot of time here but never during these party's, cause most of the time Rafe was the host and well - let's just say you tried to avoid any chance of being in a room with him together.

Because besides the hatred for their sister's trying to live the pogue life, Topper and Rafe had one thing more in common. They fell for the sister of their best friend. The only problem was, that Rafe never acted on his feeling. While Topper may be a complete idiot, he at least showed Sarah some kind of feelings, trying to wrap her around his fingers. But for Rafe? Bickering and hating was his way.

But Rafe apparently had a new way of drawing you into his space.

"Hey, did you see Topper?" You asked a guy which's name you could never remember no matter how often your brother tried to tell you. You just knew he often hang with them together. "No, sorry. Ask Rafe, he was with him a while ago." You instantly rolled your eyes but smiled at him and nodded in a way that was supposed to tell him 'thank you'.

You made your way further through the people until you reached the living room where you saw Rafe sitting on the couch, talking to two girls on either side of him.

Not bothering that you may interrupted something, you walked up behind him, not even caring enough to wait until he might realize you were standing behind him. "Have you seen my brother? He told me to come pick him up."

You looked down at his head which bend until it laid against the backrest, his pretty blue eyes meeting yours. Pretty ? No, you meant blue. Just blue.

"Oh If it isn't the princess of the Pogues, gracing us with her presence this night.", his voice dripped with sarcasm. "And to what do we owe this unexpected visit?" You rolled your eyes at his irritating words and crossed your arms in front of your chest. "Did you see Topper, Rafe?", you repeated.

His smile widened before he sat upright again, took a beer that was probably his from the desk, turned around and locked eyes with you again, walking around the couch towards you.

"Someone's in a grumpy mood today." he remarked, taking a sip of his beer. "Rafe If you don't-" "No need to be so uptight princess. The party just stared." You scoffed. "Well, apparently not If my brother's texting me to come pick his drunk ass up."

"Give him some time, he's trying to heal from a heartbreak. I mean I told him my sister is never hanging around for long but- well you know him. Had to try for himself."

You were slowly getting tired of the conversation and Rafe seemed to notice. "And as for where your brother is; I saw him with Kelce in the kitchen a few minutes ago. Just before you arrived, I think."

Without giving him a second more of your time, you turned around, walking towards the kitchen. Why didn't he just tell you 'Hey, Topper is in the kitchen.' ? Why does he always have to bicker with you and beat around the bush. Ugh.

Sarah always said he liked you but before Rafe Cameron actually had serious feelings for you or even anyone, hell would freeze over.

You walked into the kitchen of the Cameron's, immediately spotting your brother and Kelce, laughing loudly between some shots they were taking.

"Wow. You're really setting the bar lower and lower." You scoffed, making their heads turn towards you. "Y/n? What are you doing here? Aren't you with your little friends?" "Oh, hey pipsqueak." Kelce chuckled from behind Topper, waving at you with a drunken grin.

"Come on Topper, I don't have all night." I sighed, already about to leave the kitchen when he looked at me as If I had torn apart his favorite teddy bear apart that he hid under his bed whenever someone came over. "What the hell are you talking about?" "What the hell do you mean what the hell I'm talking about? You texted me to come pick you up because you're too drunk."

Just as he was about to answer, Rafe entered the kitchen and stood beside you. "Topper, why don't you listen to your sister and go with her, you've had enough for tonight."

Feeling betrayed, Topper was too stunned to speak, looking at Kelce for some backup. "Hey man don't get me into this." he replied to his look, throwing up his hands and spilling some of the liquid that was inside his shot glass.

"I didn't text you!" he exclaimed, reached into his pocket and searching for his phone. "Shit.. can't find it." You rolled your eyes, your patience slowly but clearly wearing off. "Topper.." "I swear I didn't!", he swore while continuing to search the insides of his few pockets. "Damn no really, where is it?", he asked himself.

"Come on man." Kelce chuckled and threw an arm around his friend, slowly guiding him outside the kitchen and towards the front door where you parked your car.

You stepped aside to let them pass, your gaze landing on Rafe who was already looking at you, licking his bottom lip before speaking. "Here." He reached into his pocket and handed you Topper's phone. "What? Why do you have my brother's phone ?", you asked him, as It didn't hit you yet what was going in.

"Thought he might need someone to pick him up before he would be a complete mess.", he chuckled, shrugging his shoulders and looking away for a short moment.

Your eyebrows shot up as the realization finally hit you."You texted me to come pick him up? Why would you do that?" He chuckled and looked down at you. " Like I said; I was worried about my friend." "Bullshit.", you called him out right away. "If you were worried about him, you would have told me where he was instead of beating around the bush."

"Just wanted some conversation." he replied simply, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes while doing so, trying not to let him get under your skin. It would only please him.

"Good night, Rafe." you smiled at him before turning around and pushing through sweaty crowd again, reaching your car where Kelce and Topper were already waiting for you.

You pressed the little button on your car key, allowing them to get in while you were still a few meters away. Kelce jumped into the back seat, and Topper settled next to you in the front.

You slid behind the wheel and closed your door, glancing over your shoulder at Topper’s friend. “Should I drive you home too?” you asked, reaching for your seatbelt and securing it right after.

“Sure thing, pipsqueak,” he grinned, his eyes heavy and his body slumping down onto the back seat. You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last thirty minutes and started the engine, pulling away from the property.

A few minutes into the drive, you looked over to your right. “You’re lucky. Mom and Dad aren’t home tonight,” you smirked slowly, trying to lighten the mood since he was still your annoying brother. Annoying, but family.

A scoff escaped his lips as he stared out the window. “As if they’re ever home.” 

You sighed quietly, shrugging your shoulders. “Well, it’s still better than having to explain why you’re drunk and high.” 

“They wouldn’t understand anyway. They never do. All they do is scream and complain. They don’t care.” He turned his head toward you, studying your face. “But honestly, I don’t know which one of us they’re more disappointed in,” he chuckled.

“Yeah… Mom’s worried I’m drinking myself into a coma, while Dad is worried you’ll run off with Maybank or some other pogue.” The car fell silent for a moment before you both erupted into unexpected laughter. 

"Honestly, I don’t know which one is worse,” you giggled, gripping the wheel a little tighter as you turned onto your street. "Not sure who's setting the bar lower now, huh?" Topper smirked.

“I guess we should take him with us tonight before his parents have a heart attack,” you suggested, nodding toward Kelce, who was snoring in the back seat.

“Yeah…” he glanced at his friend and then back at you. “Thank you for picking me up, even though I didn’t text you. It’s good to know I can still count on you.” He smiled softly at you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"No problem, Topper." you smiled back at him before turning off your car and finally parked in your garage. "Let‘s get him inside.", you grinned, eager to get out like Topper, when your phone suddenly vibrated in your purse.

Hm, probably the pogues asking If everything‘s alright after you left so quick with only telling them it‘s an 'family emergency'.

You opened your little white purse Sarah had given you on your last birthday and rummaged through it, fishing out your phone. You had a few messages from JJ and Sarah, asking you when - wait.

What was that? A message by an unknown number.

unknown number

i took the liberty of grabbing your number while I had the chance to.

was nice seeing you tonight, hot and bothered like always..

sweets dreams, angel.

xx rafe

That son of a - wait, why were you smiling together with your heart beating faster ?

masterlist | taglist | navigation | valentines day special

tags: @supernaturaldawning @cardibre91 @aegonsslxt @juliet-017

xoxo sarah <3

[just-some-random-blogger]

Yet, you cannot. Because you can’t find the damn book anywhere. You are sure the compilation of histories of Old Valyria Daemon had given you has to be in your rooms.

Honestly. If I lost my book, my favorite book,my favorite book gifted to me by my father, my favorite book gifted to me by my father because he said I was the only child of his who could inherit it, I would fucking crash out and be inconsolable for life

You feel torn. Cregan and you are getting along now, but you still hesitate going to him with your troubles. Not only you had leftover guilt even though you have both chosen to move on from your rivalry, you also prided yourself on being independent. 

Your pride will be the death of you. Unfortunately I feel you. I'm going to write a song about this

Asking him or anyone for help always makes you feel uncomfortable. You didn’t want others to perceive you as weak. 

Still. What if he thinks less of you for being careless with your things? Or if he thinks you are being overly sentimental to get this worked up over a book? 

Girl

Worse, what if he thinks you are accusing him of stealing? 

GIRL STOP YOURE JUMPING INTO LAVA FOR NO FUCKING REASON?????

[...] to love is to be humbled, it seems. 

Stealing this. it's so fucking stupid of her what the fuck

“You always may, wife.”

THE WAY I SCREAMMMMMMMED

“I enjoy how my colors look on you.” Cregan rumbles, a pleased smile forming on his face. Today, you are wearing one of the warmest dresses you own, in a pale gray. It’s made of velvet, and you enjoy how it feels over your skin. You had commissioned it after you arrived at Winterfell, using the generous pocket money that Cregan allowed you. 

“You.” And it’s said with such disarming honesty, you do not know what to say.

NRJDSJSNN RIZZLER ALERT

Secretly, it pleases you that he remembers what you had been reading last week.

Not be. Me at cregan after this

This is my cats kitten btw.

“I cannot find it.” You whine, losing your battle with the tears. “My book. It’s really important that I find it.” 

I would simply cry too. Bestie....

“Shh… I know. I have been unkind to you.” [...] “I took your book.” 

🧍‍♀️ he fucking what? I don't... I don't know how I feel... I'm upset ????

While grief and self-doubt do not chase him as much as they chase you, he is still a widower with a wife who despised him at first. 

Let's be broken together

The nerve of those Hightowers knew no bounds. What was next? Demanding a Sept be built in Wintertown for those false gods of theirs? 

HAHAHHAAHAHHHAHA FALSE GODS IS SO FUNNY GOES HARD

And if that wasn’t enough to make his day terrible, during the afternoon Cregan had received an outraged Sara. Apparently, for some unknown reason, she had received an offer to become Lady Cerwin And for another unknown reason, it was the most terrible fate. Ever. 

SKKSJSNSJ SARA GIVE IN TO YOUR PLOT STOP STRESSING UR BROTHER

“I think I will place my princess here. And a dragon here.” You explain, as if you are building some great castle. Rickon stares, transfixed by you. Cregan understands the feeling all too well. He remembers the weight of you in his lap, the warmth of your skin against him, your smell. He has been unable to get the memory out of his mind in days. 

HALA MY STARKS ARE LOVING EACH OTHER I

You feel nerves creep up on you. Cregan never summons you. When he wants your company, he simply appears near you or waits for a meal to invite you to spend time with him. 

HE SIMPLY APPEARSSSSS JWKKSKSKSKA I WANT HIM I WANT HIMMMM DKKDKDMS

When you step inside, it is as if you are stepping inside your storybook. The walls are covered with tapestries depicting some of the prettier illustrations, priestesses wearing amethysts, dragons of shining ivory, lovers holding hands. 

BESTIEEEEEE HE WAHHHHAT

“You did this… for me?” Your hands tremble as you set the table alight. All the known world, on display for you. In a war table. It is only then that it registers.  

.... I know that she's emotional and in disbelief but

???? NO BESTIE HE DID IT FOR HIS UNCLE WOULD YOU FUCKING BELIEVE???? GIGGGGILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

You have been blind, you realize, as you look at your book come to life in this room. The man who had given it to you had shown you that one could form a family with a widow and cherish their sons as if they were your own.

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 DAEMON BEING A GOOD DAD BLUEPRINT MAKES ME SO SOFT DAEMON MY SHAYLAAAAAAA

“Dear Jacaerys, I want you to know that I am completely, perfectly, incandescently happy…”

MR DARCYYYYYY?????

IM GLAD THAT SHES FINALLY SPOKEN TO JACEEEE

CRISTIII THIS WAS INCREDIBLE ARE YOU KIDDING MEEE????? IM SO HAPPY SO PROUD OF YOU FOR FINISHING YOUR SERIES. ME SOON TORMENTED SPIRIT PLEASE END FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS GOOD SHE STILL GOING

I lovveeee cregan so much I love the surprise so much I LOVE HOW YOU ENDED IT. IM SO SATISFIED. MY PETTY ASS ALL FIGHTS TO HAVE AN ANGST ENDING WHEN THERES ANGST BUT YOU SWAYED ME AND I WANT THEM ONLY TO HAVE FLUFF FOREVER AND EVER AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BECAUSE WHO ELSE COULD DO THAT BUT YOU. AM I SO VERY GREEDY TO ASK MORE? ANYWAY TAG ME NEXT FIC OK OK I LOVE YOU BYE AHHHH

Summer (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: As a Princess, you aren’t used to rejection. But Cregan, your husband, has vowed to only ever love one woman, and it isn't you. Right?

A/N: I can finally wrap up my romcom! Big romantic gesture ahead. Check the masterlist of this series here, if you are new. And to my lovely, lovely readers, thank you for staying wityh me during this madness.

Warnings: My anxious introverted reader being anxious (Shocker) Cregan has self-doubts. Mature language.

YOU ARE HAVING a terrible day. It surprises you because that doesn’t happen as often any longer. Today, you would rather not talk to anyone, much less Cregan, whose hovering would only serve to make you more anxious. Today, you want to crawl under the covers with your comfort book and pretend to be dead. 

Yet, you cannot. Because you can’t find the damn book anywhere. You are sure the compilation of histories of Old Valyria Daemon had given you has to be in your rooms.

You have pulled open all your desk’s drawers, checked the bedside table twice, checked the bed, even beneath it. Not even your chest with linens was spared. It’s nowhere. 

With little choices left, you have begun searching the nursery too, but haven’t quite mastered the courage to search Cregan’s solar. You remember taking the book alongside you to read as you kept him company sometimes, but do not recall leaving it there. 

You feel torn. Cregan and you are getting along now, but you still hesitate going to him with your troubles. Not only you had leftover guilt even though you have both chosen to move on from your rivalry, you also prided yourself on being independent. 

Asking him or anyone for help always makes you feel uncomfortable. You didn’t want others to perceive you as weak. 

Stop. You are being silly, you tell yourself. It’s not like you are about to ask him to solve your life, you only will inquire if he has seen your book. 

Still. What if he thinks less of you for being careless with your things? Or if he thinks you are being overly sentimental to get this worked up over a book? 

Worse, what if he thinks you are accusing him of stealing? 

You let out a groan. You are overthinking. Your bad days often include a lot of anxiety, and today it is a bad day. A terrible one, that will be worse if you don’t find your beloved book. Determined, you march to Cregan’s solar and knock on his door. 

“Aye?” He calls out, northern accent on full display, and you can’t help that your knees get a little weak.

“Cregan? May I come in?” Suddenly, your bravery and determination have deserted you. Your voice comes out squeaky as a mouse. By the Fourteen Flames, to love is to be humbled, it seems. 

“You always may, wife.” You wince at being addressed as such. You suppose it’s a good thing he isn’t calling you by your full title any longer. 

Pushing open the door, you step inside. Cregan is seated on his desk, a frown on his face. He is squinting at some maps, in the way he sometimes does. His frown softens when he sees you, standing on the door. 

“I enjoy how my colors look on you.” Cregan rumbles, a pleased smile forming on his face. Today, you are wearing one of the warmest dresses you own, in a pale gray. It’s made of velvet, and you enjoy how it feels over your skin. You had commissioned it after you arrived at Winterfell, using the generous pocket money that Cregan allowed you. 

You had to give it to the man. No matter how annoying you had been at first, he had never been tight-fisted with your allowance. 

“Thank you.” You feel your cheeks heating up, and fight the urge to fan your face. What you don’t manage to fight is the urge to preen under his gaze. 

Cregan chuckles. You narrow your eyes at him. Is he mocking you? He lifts his hands in surrender, attuned as he is to your moods. 

“Apologies. It’s cute, that’s all.” 

“The dress?” 

“You.” And it’s said with such disarming honesty, you do not know what to say. You search his face, yet his expression is so open, so fond, no hint of mockery can be found. It’s…  Cregan must be thinking of her, for sure. That expression doesn’t mean anything. “What were you here for?”

You clear your throat. 

“Um. I was… I lost my book.” 

“What book?” Cregan asks, shifting his maps aside. He is clearing his desk, you realize. “The one about the conquest?” 

“No, not that one.” Your voice turns shyer still. Secretly, it pleases you that he remembers what you had been reading last week. “It has a brown leather cover and the title is in gold.” 

“The one in High Valyrian?” And his tone is casual. Far too casual. You begin to worry that your book might have met its end. You look him in the eyes, but find little there. Cregan has an impeccable blank face. He gives nothing away. “Check the selves. Maybe it is there.” 

You turn around and begin doing so. But the more titles you check, the more nervous you become. Cregan is an organized man, his books are carefully separated by subject. The servants know to keep to his order, when he rarely leaves them lying around. 

Your book would stand out. You know it. A tight knot of anxiety begins to settle on your stomach. As you reach the lower shelves, you feel tears gathering in your lash line. You cannot believe you are about to cry over a book. 

Cregan will never love you. He will go right back into thinking you are some soft southron, with no spine. No one cries over books. He will think you are ridiculous. 

Despite your back being to him, he seems to sense something is wrong.

“Love? Is everything alright?” 

“I cannot find it.” You whine, losing your battle with the tears. “My book. It’s really important that I find it.” 

You hear him get up, and walk closer to you. He hugs you from behind, holding you to him. 

“Shh… I know. I have been unkind to you.” You are confused about his words, but not enough that you reject the comfort of his embrace. Cregan is warm against your back, and smells faintly of parchment and leather. There is something herbal clinging to his skin, too. His smell and his size make you feel safe. He is tall enough that his form covers yours completely.“I took your book.” 

You flinch. Your hackles begin to rise. Your sadness leaves, clouded by absolute wrath.  

“What?” 

“I wanted to gift you something. It’s being copied by the Maester as we speak. I wanted it to be a surprise, I know how much you love it.” He nuzzles your neck, and it pacifies you slightly. The prospect of a gift entices you, especially if it is a copy of your favorite book. Perhaps Cregan will have it nicely bound.  “I regret it now. Knowing how much you love it, I should have known it would upset you.”

“I wanted to read it today.” You complain, still sad. It has been an awful day for you. “I do not feel so well.” 

“Of course, sweetling.” Cregan drops a kiss to your crown. “I’ll have it delivered to you. Would you mind lending it to me tomorrow? You can recall it anytime during the day if you need it, like now.” 

“Alright.” You whisper, softly. Cregan gathers you in his arms again, and moves the two of you to the loveseat. There, he settles you in his lap. He takes of his cloak and drapes it over you. This way, you are fully surrounded by his warmth and smell.

He calls a servant. True to his word, the book is back in your hands in less than half an hour. You spend the rest of the afternoon reading in his lap. 

Suddenly, your bad day doesn’t seem so bad. 

WHEN HE FEELS like an inconsiderate brute, Cregan tries to think happier thoughts. While grief and self-doubt do not chase him as much as they chase you, he is still a widower with a wife who despised him at first. 

Often, gazing upon Rickon or you is enough to help him feel more settled. More at peace with himself. His son is well adapted enough, he reasons, as he sees him run around the courtyard. You do not despise him, he thinks, as you curl by his side. 

Today, neither is working. Rickon and you are together, a picture that normally would serve to pull him out from his brooding. Of course, since Rickon is on the floor wailing, it isn’t quite working. 

Cregan has a headache. The pain is spreading from his jaw, towards his cheekbones, and from there turning into sharp icicles that feel like they are being stabbed in his skull. 

The day has been long. He had ridden out at dawn to deal with some wildings near Wintertown, and then had to answer his correspondence. The dammed Greens would not stop pestering him to switch sides and hand you over, alternating between threats and flattery. 

As if the Starks were some miserable turncloaks who betrayed their oaths. As if Cregan would just hand over his wife to some usurping cunts. 

The nerve of those Hightowers knew no bounds. What was next? Demanding a Sept be built in Wintertown for those false gods of theirs? 

And if that wasn’t enough to make his day terrible, during the afternoon Cregan had received an outraged Sara. Apparently, for some unknown reason, she had received an offer to become Lady Cerwin And for another unknown reason, it was the most terrible fate. Ever. 

Rickon keeps screaming. He has been that way for a while. Cregan had been alone with him, watching him play on the rug with his blocks, when he had started crying and wouldn’t stop. 

Cregan had tried picking him up, rocking him, walking him back and forth, but nothing helped. One of the servants must have heard and alerted you because you had appeared looking disgruntled.

You had been in the middle of your quiet time, as Cregan enjoyed calling it. Awkward Princesses who hated socializing needed time to recover from hearing petitions during the day. He had realized so when he started teaching you to pass judgement. 

As the time for Cregan to march south to defend your mother’s claim became more imminent, he was giving you more and more responsibilities in Winterfell. That way, you would be prepared to hold the North when he left. Prepared to protect his Kingdom and his son. 

“Tower! Tower!” Rickon wails, as you pick him. Your face is as tired a Cregan feels. His head is heavy. He cannot stand Rickon screaming any longer. By the gods, Cregan is a terrible father. He cannot even calm his son when he needs him. After his many attempts to calm him down were unsuccessful, he had just set him down. 

“What’s the matter, sweet boy?” You ask, holding Rickon close to your heart. Rickon continues to cry. You meet Cregan’s eyes over his son’s head. 

Cregan shrugs. He is unsure of what triggered the tantrum. 

“Shh, all is well. I get overwhelmed too, sometimes.” You say, and Cregan gets the feeling you are talking to him and not to Rickon. “But we can’t rebuild your tower if you are getting all wiggly.”  

This is about the building blocks, Cregan realizes. He feels like a terrible father. A failure. 

Bennard’s words come to mind once more. How can you govern the North if you can’t govern yourself? You failed.

Your swordsmanship is poor, and you still are a pup crying for your parents. You cannot rule. 

He had heard a variation of those words for years, every time he had tried to push his claim. And look, Cregan knows he is not a poor swordsman, and he has tried his best to rule. Men don’t cry, but he does it occasionally. Rarely. His tears never dry out, no matter how old he grows, but it is the only thing of Bennard’s words that came true. That isn’t so bad, is it? 

You have settled on the floor, Rickon on your lap. He still cries, but he has stopped shrieking. You have started building a tower on your own. 

“I think I will place my princess here. And a dragon here.” You explain, as if you are building some great castle. Rickon stares, transfixed by you. Cregan understands the feeling all too well. He remembers the weight of you in his lap, the warmth of your skin against him, your smell. He has been unable to get the memory out of his mind in days. 

It would be pleasant, a session of cuddling with his wife, were it not for the circumstances that lead up to it. All Cregan’s fault. 

“A shame you want to keep crying and won’t help. I suppose I shall have to ask your father to play with me.” Your eyes are coy. You give Cregan a glance, and his lips form a smile despite himself. Of course you would try bribery. 

Of course, it works. Rickon picks up the first block, still sniffling. 

“No! Father isn't a Princess. You are!” 

“You are right, Rickon.” You agree, as if it were the most natural thing. “Silly me. He is a wolf. We should build him a Wolfswood.” 

And so, Rickon forgets his tantrum, settled by your gentle touch and encouraging words. And Cregan’s heart soars. 

“MILADY, LORD STARK wishes for your company.” One of the serving girls says, eyes downcasted. You pause in your perusal of the granary, making a quick note on your ledger. As the Lady of Winterfell, it falls to you to ensure the castle has supplies enough for winter, or so Cregan says. You find the Northern’s obsession with the season a bit much, but considering little grows here, you too would feel better knowing you have enough grain if something happens. 

“Right now?” Considering he had been the one to send you on this errand, it confuses you a little. He must have known taking stock of the granary would take you all day. 

“As soon as you can come. It’s not urgent, but he wishes to see you soon.” 

You feel nerves creep up on you. Cregan never summons you. When he wants your company, he simply appears near you or waits for a meal to invite you to spend time with him. 

You can’t help it. War and grief had frayed your nerves. These days, you feel like everything could be a sign of bad news. 

It’s not urgent, you repeat to yourself. It’s not urgent, it’s not urgent, you chant in your head, but your steps towards the inside of Winterfell are hurried. 

The castle is unusually quiet. The maid guides you to one of the unused wings of the castle, one near Cregan’s rooms. You have never asked, but you know these were the rooms his uncle used to inhabit when trying to usurp him. The man had never dared taking the lord’s rooms from Cregan, lingering near instead, a feeling you understand too well. 

Your husband is a formidable man. You wouldn’t want to cross him, either. 

The serving girl hesitates when the two of you reach a big oaken door. 

“What is it?” You ask her, with a frown. “Why do you linger?”

She doesn’t answer. She simply shoots you a shy smile. Annoyed at her shyness, you push the door open yourself. Your breath catches. 

When you step inside, it is as if you are stepping inside your storybook. The walls are covered with tapestries depicting some of the prettier illustrations, priestesses wearing amethysts, dragons of shining ivory, lovers holding hands. 

The room is decorated in understated creams and golds, the furniture made of the finest woods. Despite the themes of the decoration, it is clearly meant to be a Lady’s solar, even if not attached to your rooms. 

There is a soft, woven carpet that cushions your every step. It is made of pure white fur, to combine tastefully with the rest of the decoration. You can already tell it will feel like heaven on your bare feet, even through your boots. It must have cost a fortune. 

Near two, giant windows, a low table sits. It holds a vase very familiar to you, shaped in the form of a dragon. It is filled with winter roses, though you had seen it before in Dragonstone, full of your mother’s favorite flowers. 

There is a fireplace, as it is customary in almost all the rooms in Winterfell. On its mantle, small toys and mementos from your childhood sit. Near the fireplace, a small sitting area awaits, with comfortable looking armchairs and loveseats, and a low table in which a tea set, painted with Valyrian motives, rests. 

There is a desk in a corner, much bigger than yours, and a small bookshelf, that resembles the layout Cregan has in his own solar. It has sparse books, but all of them are in High Valyrian. Your favorite book has a place of honor, right in the middle of the highest shelf. 

Yet, the true star of the room lies on the back of it. There is a huge round table, like the one from your stories, made of sturdy wood, that resembles the one from the war room from Dragonstone. Not only are the Seven Kingdoms featured, but also Essos, Sothoryos, the Summer Islands and even Great Moraq. Cregan is in the middle of lighting the table, struggling with how one is supposed to do it. 

“How..?” You babble, astonished. To assemble this… You understand now why he had needed your book so many times. The time and care put into building this room, so delightfully whimsical yet honoring your culture at the same time… Your eyes prickle with tears. 

“We can send it back.” Cregan says, alarmed by your tears. “If you…” 

“No!” You say, with an energy that surprises you. You take the candles from his hands and begin lighting the table the proper way. “This is… My home. And my book.”

Cregan’s face is uncharacteristically unsure.

"I hoped it would remind you of where you came from. Of whom you are. A Princess of Dragonstone. My Princess.” 

“You did this… for me?” Your hands tremble as you set the table alight. All the known world, on display for you. In a war table. It is only then that it registers.  

Cregan is willing to go to war for you. Kill in your name. Lay the whole world at your feet.  You have to grip the back of one of the chairs as to not fall down, knees weak. 

“I know you are far from home. And I haven’t… We haven’t always been on the best terms, but you never shied away from your duties. I wanted to give you something that was about you.” 

“I never thought you saw me.” You whisper. “I… I owe you an apology. For everything. For insulting you, when I arrived, for speaking of Lady Arra, for… For not seeing you either, at first.” 

You have been blind, you realize, as you look at your book come to life in this room. The man who had given it to you had shown you that one could form a family with a widow and cherish their sons as if they were your own.

Daemon wasn't a kind man, but he was loyal to family. You were far kinder. If he could do it, and be happy, so could you.

“There is no need to apologize to me.” Cregan gathers you in his arms, and presses a kiss to your lips. His own are chapped from the cold, yet the only thing you feel is his warmth. And for two people as different as winter and summer, you find that your bodies do understand each other. 

It takes Cregan but a week to convince you after that. The first letter you write in your new desk begins as it follows: 

“Dear Jacaerys, I want you to know that I am completely, perfectly, incandescently happy…”

[greengoblinswifey]

Older Wrestlers Do It Better—Shawn Michaels x Fem!Reader

summary— After winning your first Women’s Championship, you finally meet your childhood crush, Shawn Michaels. Nervously flirting with him leads to an unforgettable night where he makes your win ever better.

warnings— age gap(reader is in her 20s, shawn is in his 50s), flirting, cunnilingus, praise kink, possessive!shawn, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare.

a/n— My first Shawn Michaels fic, hope you guys enjoy <3 Literally have had a crush on him for so long🤭

Winning the Women’s Championship was the most surreal moment of your life. Years of grinding in other promotions, building your name, perfecting your craft, it had all led to this. The cheers of the crowd, the weight of the gold on your shoulder, the rush of emotions hitting you all at once as you stepped backstage.

The second you crossed the curtain, a wave of congratulations hit you. Superstars, crew members, even higher ups, everyone was there, giving you pats on the back, words of praise. You tried to take it all in, your heart still hammering from the adrenaline, when you heard it.

A deep, gruff voice behind you.

“Congratulations, champ. I’m proud of you.”

You froze. That voice. That unmistakable, slightly raspy voice. Slowly, almost in disbelief, you turned around and your breath caught in your throat.

It was him.

Shawn Michaels.

Your brain short circuited. For years, you’d admired him. Hell, if you were being honest, you’d been in love with him. Growing up, watching him on your TV screen, mesmerized by his presence, his talent, his everything. And now, here he was, standing right in front of you, looking at you like he actually knew who you were.

“Wow,” you blurted out, your voice coming out embarrassingly breathless. “Thank you.”

Shawn smirked at your obvious nerves, his arms crossing over his chest. “You earned it,” he said. “I’ve been watching you for a while now. I made sure they knew you were the real deal. You’re gonna carry this division better than anyone.”

Your heart nearly exploded. Shawn Michaels had been watching you? Shawn Michaels had put in a word for you?

“I—” You struggled to form words, your cheeks burning. “That means everything. I admire you so much, I love your work, I—” You cut yourself off before you started sounding like a crazy fangirl, pressing your lips together to stop yourself from rambling.

His smirk deepened, and before you could react, he pulled you into a hug.

Holy. Fuck.

Your face pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around you, the scent of his cologne completely overwhelming your senses. Your brain refused to function, your hands awkwardly gripping onto the back of his shirt as your cheeks burned hotter than ever.

After a few moments, he pulled back, his hand squeezing your shoulder before dropping to his side. “Didn’t wanna take up too much of your time,” he said. “Enjoy your night, champ.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you standing there like an absolute fool.

Later, after the chaos of the night settled, you were lounging with Rhea, Tiffany, and Liv in the locker room, all of them still hyped over your win.

“You killed it out there,” Rhea said, nudging you with a proud grin.

Tiffany nodded, flipping her hair. “And let’s be real, your skin looks so good with gold.”

“Thanks, guys. But guess who congratulated me? And—” You leaned in dramatically. “Was apparently partially responsible for my win?”

The girls exchanged curious looks. “Who?” Liv asked.

You took a breath for dramatic effect. “Shawn. Fucking. Michaels.”

The reaction was instant. Rhea’s eyes widened, Tiffany gasped, and Liv practically shrieked.

“Your crush?” Rhea said.

“The man you said you wanted to marry?” Tiffany added.

“Exactly,” you confirmed, still trying to process it yourself.

“And?” Liv pressed. “Did you keep your cool, or did you embarrass yourself?”

You groaned, throwing your head back. “Oh, I embarrassed myself. I was all nervous, blushing like an idiot, barely forming words. But he hugged me. I swear I almost passed out.”

“Okay, but what does this mean? Do you think he was flirting?” Tiffany laughed.

“God, I hope so,” you muttered before sighing dramatically. “I just want him so bad. He’s so fine. And you know I love older men. Like, I would give anything for him to fuck me hard. With eye contact, might I add. Older men just do it better—”

The sudden silence from the girls made your stomach drop.

You saw their eyes widen, their mouths slightly open, and the moment Rhea subtly nodded toward something behind you, you knew.

Slowly, dreading what you were about to see, you turned around.

And there he was.

Shawn Michaels.

Standing right behind you.

Smirking.

Your heart fell straight to the floor. You were so done. Absolutely finished. WWE was going to strip you of your title, fire you, and blacklist you from the industry.

Shawn crossed his arms, looking far too amused for your liking. “Whenever you’re free and ready to leave,” he said smoothly, “meet me in my dressing room.”

You nodded, entirely incapable of forming words.

He winked before walking off, leaving you frozen in place, your entire soul leaving your body.

The second he was out of earshot, the girls erupted into laughter, squealing and shaking you like you’d just won the lottery.

“You are so lucky,” Tiffany gasped, fanning herself.

Liv was practically in tears. “Oh my god, I thought you were gonna die on the spot.”

Rhea smirked, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Well, champ, looks like your childhood crush just became your reality.”

Your brain was still catching up. Shawn Michaels had heard you. Shawn Michaels wanted you to meet him.

Holy. Shit. You were in for one hell of a night.

Shawn was waiting when you stepped into his dressing room, leaning back on the couch with that signature smirk.

“You took your time,” he teased.

Your heart pounded as you shut the door. “Trying to recover from the fact that you heard all of that.”

“Oh, I heard every word, sweetheart,” he chuckled.

You groaned, covering your face. “God, that was so embarrassing.”

He pried your hands away. “Nah, I liked what I heard.” His smirk deepened. “Older men do it better, huh?”

Your face burned. “Are you gonna keep bringing that up?”

“Maybe,” he said, tilting his head. “But I think I’d rather show you instead.”

Your breath hitched, and he leaned in, voice lower now. “Where you staying tonight?”

You told him your hotel, and he hummed in approval. “Same one. I’ll drive you.”

You texted the girls telling them you’d be with him. There would be a lot to talk about in the morning.

The car ride made you nervous. You stole glances at him, watching the way his muscles flexed as he gripped the wheel. He was even hotter in person. He looked just as good, hell, even better than he did on TV. The years had only added to his appeal, roughening his edges in the best way.

“You keep looking at me like that,” he said without taking his eyes off the road, “I might just have to pull over.”

You bit your lip. "Can’t help it. You’re kinda unreal."

His smirk grew. “Come to my room tonight. I’ll give you exactly what you’ve been craving.”

Your stomach flipped.

90s Shawn Michaels had been your first love. But Shawn now? Oh, you’d let him do anything to you.

When you arrived at the hotel, people stopped to congratulate you. You took pictures, smiling through the anticipation burning inside you.

The moment the elevator doors shut, his fingers brushed your wrist. “Last chance to back out.”

“Not a chance,” you murmured.

His hotel room door had barely shut before he turned you, pressing you against it. His hands beside your head, eyes dark as they met yours.

“This what you wanted?”

Your breath caught. “I’ve dreamt about this.”

His lips crashed onto yours, stealing any response you had left. His hands gripped under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as you wrapped around him. He carried you to the bed, sinking onto it with you in his lap.

You could feel him beneath you, hard and eager, as you rocked against him. His hands roamed, mapping every inch of you, his lips never leaving yours.

“Been wanting this for years, haven’t you?” he murmured against your lips, hands roaming your body.

You nodded breathlessly, gripping onto his shoulders for balance.

His smirk returned as he cupped your face. “You’re just as sweet as I imagined.”

His lips trailed down your cheek, to your neck, pressing soft kisses that left you shivering. He moved slowly, savoring, before laying you back against the bed, hovering over you. His eyes searched yours, expression softening slightly.

“This okay?” he asked, voice quieter now.

“I want this. I want you,” you nodded, already breathless.

He exhaled slowly, his thumb tracing your cheek. “Then let me take care of you.”

His hands found the hem of your blouse, fingers toying with the fabric as he waited for your permission. When you gave it, he lifted it over your head, his gaze roaming over you with something akin to awe.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

Heat pooled in your stomach, your heart pounding as he leaned down again, pressing another kiss to your lips. He slipped you out of the rest of your clothes then pulled back, his eyes once again taking over you.

“Look at you, naked in front of me. Fucking perfect,” he said.

He knelt, making you gasp, trailing kisses until he reached your clit, spreading your legs and kissing further and further.

“You're soaked, sweetheart, so wet for me,” he murmured, using his tongue to collect your wetness and spitting it back onto your pussy.

A soft moan escaped your lips, you couldn't believe Shawn fucking Michaels was about to eat you out.

“I love those moans. Let me hear you.”

He dived in, flicking his tongue on your clit before bringing it down to your leaking hole and licking back up. His grip was firm but gentle on your thighs, spreading them wide as he continued. You couldn't believe the utter pleasure you were feeling, he was so skilled with his tongue having you squirm underneath him and moan so loudly, you feared the other wrestlers on the floor would hear.

“Oh, Shawn,” you cried, back arching off the bed.

Cocky Shawn hadn’t been lost due to the years. You could feel the smirk between your legs. “That’s it, sweetheart. Scream my name. I’m the one making you feel good.”

His tongue worked you over sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body as his blue eyes stared into yours. As his movements grew, the coil in your abdomen grew tighter, ready to burst.

“Cum on my tongue beautiful.” A loud moan left your lips and your body lifted from the bed, as he practically took your soul and you squirted onto his face, soaking him. He slurped you up like you were his last meal and you squirmed under his touch, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“You're so beautiful when you cum. You taste amazing,” he panted.

You pulled him up into a kiss, his mouth soaked in your juices. His head moved down to your breasts, suckling and moaning as your fingers clawed his back.

Shawn’s eyes never left yours as he undressed, revealing his toned chest and arms. You smiled, your heart racing as you reached out to gently touch his chest, tracing the lines of muscle with your fingertips. “You’re so so hot,” you whispered.

He let out a soft laugh. “You’re the one who’s hot, sweetheart,” he said, his hands in through your curls, tugging you closer to him.

Your lips met his again, tender and slow, savoring the moment. You pressed yourself against him, feeling his hard cock, the heat of his body matching the desire building between you. His hands were gentle but firm as he guided you to the bed, settling you back gently.

Your gaze wandered and your eyes caught his very hard cock. He was so thick, the full package. Shawn always radiated big dick energy but to see it up close and personal—veins prominent, slight curve, long—it was no wonder he acted the way he did in the 90s. He had all reason to be that cocky bastard. He was perfect.

Your mouth practically watered at the sight and you took ahold of it, hand barely able to go around and angled it towards your mouth but he stopped you.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “Tonight’s about you, about making sure you feel good.”

You nodded, heart fluttering as he hovered above you, his hands resting on either side of your head. His expression was soft, his eyes filled with nothing but admiration as he looked down at you.

He used the tip of his cock, dragging it along your wet folds as the sound of squelching filled the room. He teased you a bit more, until he slowly pushed inside, your mouth falling open as he thrusted into you. You moaned at the intrusion and looked down, only to see he was just half way in.

“Y-you’re so big,” you gasped.

“I know, but you can take it. This tight little pussy was made for my cock,” he whispered, leaning down to bite your ear lobe.

It felt like all the wind had been knocked from your lungs as he slid the rest of his length inside you. Tiny whimpers left your lips when he stilled, savoring how your walls began to welcome him in.

“See, you can take it baby, it’s okay.” He began rutting into you steadily, each time, you could feel the head of his cock brush against an area no man had ever come close to hitting before. He was so deep.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, rolling his hips to meet yours.

All you could do was moan, the overwhelming pleasure taking your ability to form coherent words.

“God, I love hearing your pretty moans,” he said, pushing your hair back.

You could barely hang on and “Shawn, cum,” was all you managed to say as you felt the pressure build up like a dam ready to burst.

“I can feel your pussy just sucking me in and gripping me. Go ahead sweetheart, cum for me, s’okay,” he cooed.

You cried out, wrapping your arms around him as he picked up his pace, the dam inside you bursting and your orgasm overtaking you. Your entire body shook and he pressed kisses on your damp forehead, slowly moving inside you to draw every last drop of cum from you.

Shawn had awaken that demon deep inside that you weren’t even aware was there. You needed more.

“I need more,” you moaned, voice shaky.

With that invitation, he increased the pace, thrusting harder and deeper. The headboard slapped against the wall under the pressure, the whole floor probably heard, your nails dug into his back, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “That’s it sweetheart, scratch my back,” his gruff voice said.

You were lost in the rhythm, your breath quickening, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

He was pounding you hard and relentless, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. He pulled back slightly, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His voice was a low growl as he murmured against your mouth, “You’re all mine. Mine to fuck and use now.”

A shiver of excitement raced through you, and he continued, “I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m all yours, Shawn,” you moaned, the words flowing from your lips as if they were the only truth that mattered.

“Such a good girl.” With a gasp, your body responded to his words, pleasure washing over you in waves as you squirted, soaking him completely. Shawn groaned in response, his grip on you tightening as he felt the warmth of your release.

“That’s so hot baby, that turned you on huh,” he said, now chasing his own orgasm as your body lay shaking underneath him.

You were too fucked out to answer, each deep thrust making your pussy throb around him.

He smirked, that infamous cocky smirk, clearly proud of how he had you at his mercy. He switched his pace, slow and deep, driving you both wild. It was as though he was proving a point to you. Showing you exactly who was fucking you and how good it felt.

You wrapped your legs around him tightly for a moment, pulling him closer before releasing them, spreading wider to accommodate him. The shift allowed him to plunge deeper, each stroke igniting a raw, primal desire within you. You gasped, the sensation overwhelming, and you met his movements with your own, grinding against him as he filled you.

“Just like that,” you urged, your voice thick with passion. “Please cum inside me.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. You words sent him over the edge and with a deep, guttural moan, he bucked his hips inside you, his hot cum filling you to the brim. You moaned in satisfaction, his cock throbbing and practically breeding you from how much he came—triggered your own orgasm.

Your body jolted beneath him, shaking from the pure intensity as you both were on cloud nine together.

“I’ve got you sweetheart, fuck, I can’t get enough of this pussy. I’ve got you,” he groaned.

Your body was still buzzing, your mind hazy as you lay against the soft sheets. Shawn pressed a kiss to your temple, his hands tracing slow, soothing patterns along your bare skin.

“You were incredible,” he murmured, voice deep. “So perfect for me.”

“I think that title belongs to you,” you teased, brushing your fingers along his jaw. “I mean, I just won the Women’s Championship and spent the night with you, I’m lucky.”

Shawn chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, sweetheart, I’m the lucky one.” He kissed your forehead before slipping out of bed. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

You watched him disappear into the bathroom, and moments later, he returned with a warm cloth, carefully tending to you with the kind of gentleness that made your heart swell.

“Didn’t have to do that,” you smiled.

“I wanted to,” he replied simply.

Once he was done, he climbed back into bed, pulling you close against his chest. His arms wrapped around you securely, his body warm and solid against yours.

“You’re everything I thought you’d be,” you admitted softly, tucking your head under his chin. “And somehow even better.”

He sighed contentedly, his fingers tracing over your back. “And you’re even more perfect than I imagined,” he whispered. “Strong, talented, and so damn beautiful. I knew you were special the second I saw you wrestle.”

You smiled tiredly as you nestled further into him. The day had been surreal, from standing champion in the ring to this—wrapped up in the arms of the man who had been your childhood crush, your inspiration, and now, something more.

As your eyes grew heavier, Shawn pressed a final kiss to your hair, his voice a low murmur against your skin.

“Sweet dreams, champ.”

And with that, you let sleep take you, still wrapped in the warmth of the best night of your life.

[gayforolderwomen]

The hands that cradle me are drenched in blood

Inspired by this post

!!this is still an 18+ blog minors DNI!!

Pairing: Dark!Agatha x Dark!Rio x fem!reader

Summary: Agatha and Rio are obsessed with you, in their minds you're already theirs they just have to break you a little bit to make you realize that too

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of stalking, kidnapping, torture, brutal death of r's gf, gore, blood, breaking of bones, grief, non-con kissing, manipulation, choking, stabbing, r tasting blood, kind of Stockholm syndrome?, lmk if I missed anything!

A/N:Uhh so this turned out a lot longer than expected but my brain really liked the idea apparently lmao I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! Also yes I made a shitty edit for the image cause it needed to fit the vibes perfectly wjejsj

"I'm getting sick of seeing that bitch all over our girl" Rio snarls, her eyes glaring hellfire into the back of your girlfriend's head- Rio being death herself cannot kill mortals as to keep the balance but she's just about ready to make an exception- her body coiled like a predator about to strike.

"Patience dear we have to wait for the right time" Agatha replies keeping a cool calm exterior as they sit on their porch watching you and your girlfriend garden. Rio however sees the small twitch in Agatha's right eye, a sign her lover is just as ready to rip apart the one obstacle between them and you, a knowing smirk gracing her lips for a moment.

You only recently moved into the house next door but all it took was one small, fleeting interaction to have them hooked. You were perfect, so young, so innocent, so pretty and so very pliable. They've bided their time- waiting- watching. Everything has to be perfect and soon it will be, all they need is to get rid of your girlfriend.

She's a sweet enough girl- you're clearly madly in love with her, but to Agatha and Rio she is an infestation needing to be exterminated- and they're both getting impatient. It's difficult for them, seeing her all over you, seeing you drink it up, being so head over heels, it's wrong. You're theirs. It doesn't matter if all the interaction you've had with them is polite conversations in passing- they know everything about you. Your routine, your favorite meals, what shows you watch on repeat, your adorable habits- they know more about you than anyone could.

It's been about half a year of careful planning when all the pieces finally fall into place, you've just lost your job under mysterious circumstances, your girlfriend is overworked at hers due to ten people quitting out of the blue, she's barely around, she's stressed and you're starting to hit a low point. You're vulnerable.

It starts with a gentle knock at your door, you open it, bags under your eyes and stress wracking your body. Agatha and Rio both put on their warmest smiles, only slightly wavering when your girlfriend appears beside you.

"Heya neighbours! We were just wondering how you're settling into the neighbourhood" Agatha says in a cheery tone, acting as if it's a bright and early morning and not the dark hours of the night.

You look puzzled at the question but before you can even mumble a polite response the sight of your girlfriend's arm resting around your waist makes Rio snap and within an instant your girlfriend is on the floor and Rio is inside.

Agatha tuts but quickly follows suit, the door closing behind her with a thud, purple magic starting to swirl between her fingers. You gasp, your eyes wide, your body trembling and your mind frozen in shock.

"Remember to hold her back dear" Agatha says with a laugh of amusement at the terrified and confused look on your face, finding it more adorable than she would have originally thought.

Rio is behind you in an heartbeat, one arm tightly around your waist holding your back to her front in a vice grip- her other hand gently stroking your head in an almost soothing manner, yet it does nothing to stop the trembling in your body, the fear and uncertainty of the situation making you shake like a leaf, your mind racing with questions, your neighbours seemed nice enough from the little times you interacted with them- you at least never would have thought they'd be barging into your home with seemingly sinister intent.

"W-what's going on-" you stutter, your voice almost too small to be heard. Rio just shushes you like you would a child, her hand still gently stroking your head.

"Hush baby, Agatha's just gonna show you how dedicated we are to you. To having you all to ourselves, like it should be" Rio gently whispers in your ear as if the words are supposed to soothe your fear and not spike it.

Purple magic swarms around your girlfriend's body, suspending her a few feet off the ground, she opens her mouth to scream but no sound escapes her. A dark chuckle reverberates through the room, Agatha taking great amusement in your girlfriend's fear.

"Ah, ah, ah" she mockingly sings "don't want you waking up the neighbourhood do we?" Agatha coos with fake sympathy.

With a strange movement of Agatha's hands your girlfriend's body starts to contort, the sickening crunch of bones echos through the room, your girlfriend's mouth open wide in a silent scream, tears drenching her cheeks. You writhe against Rio's grip, a sob leaving your mouth as you frantically try to reach your girlfriend.

Rio shushes you, her vice grip around your waist unwavering, her other hand now gently holding your head back against her shoulder, making you fully lean back into her cold embrace.

"Shh it's okay little dove, I've got you" Rio hums into your ear, her tone gentle and loving. Her lips pressing against your neck in a reassuring kiss, her lips much warmer than her hands but the sensation makes you shiver in disgust- your girlfriend is the only one who kisses you like that and she's being brutalized in front of your very eyes.

Bones crack and grind, some protruding out of her skin with sickening pop, her body bending and twisting in ways too grotesque to describe, hovering in the air helpless and at the complete mercy of Agatha Harkness.

"No! No stop! Please! You're hurting her!" You yell, your voice breaking into a sob as you see the dread in your girlfriend's tear stained eyes, the unmistakable look of primal fear, the look of someone who knows the end is here.

"It's alright darling it'll be over soon" Agatha says in a velvet smooth voice, walking to you for a moment and gently wiping away the tears you hadn't even noticed were adorning your cheeks.

"Please- please stop she didn't do anything wrong-" you beg between broken sobs, your body already feeling heavy and weak as Rio easily keeps you against her chest.

Agatha gives you a gentle and genuine smile "but she did, she's keeping you from us darling and we can't have that" she explains, her tone as if you were a child unable to grasp the necessity of the situation. Rio presses another comforting kiss to your neck, her other arm now pressed across your chest, effectively pinning you to her body, immobilizing you will ease.

You try to struggle against her, try to fight her ensnaring grip but the fight quickly leaves your body as Agatha turns back to your girlfriend- her body still contorting and writhing in pain. Agatha flicks her wrist and a gut wrenching snap fills the room. The purple magic vanishes, your girlfriend's now lifeless body falling to the floor, bones jutting out of her in various places, blood coating her once perfect skin and her head now forever snapped to the side.

The air becomes stagnant as you stare at her lifeless broken body, your hands tremble at your side and a heavy numbness overtakes your body. You're silent, no more sobs escape your lips just the sound of your shaky, shallow breathing. All you can do is stare at her. You had planned to spend the rest of your life with your girlfriend and now she lay dead in a gruesome display in front of you, in the home you bought together.

Agatha then makes her way back over to Rio and you, gently cupping your face in her hands and tilting it up so you're looking at her. She has a look of genuine empathy and care on her face, a soft sad smile on her lips.

"I'm sorry my darling it had to be done, but you have us now and we're not going anywhere" she says in a soft comforting voice, Rios arms loosening a fraction around your body but still holding you close, her grip feeling less like a cage and more like an anchor.

You don't say anything, a vacant look across your face as Agatha keeps your gaze on her, Agatha's hands feeling warm and soft. Rio's eyes drift between you and the body of your girlfriend, a small smile of satisfaction on her lips. She's eager to collect her soul, to see the obstacle finally leave this plane.

"I've got her my love, deal with that" Agatha says as she replaces Rios arm around your waist with hers and gently guides you to lean forward into her neck. Rio obliges checking that Agatha is holding you up before fully letting go, she's reluctant to leave your side but she has a job to do and her eagerness beats her reluctance most times.

Your arms hang limp at your side, your body feeling so heavy and yet so empty at the same time, your entire world has just been destroyed, you should be screaming, yelling, running, anything. But you're not, you let yourself sink into Agatha's embrace, your head guided to rest on Agatha's shoulder, her arm gently but firmly around you, her other gently rubbing your back in a soothing motion- it's the same thing your girlfriend would do to comfort you after a tough week...

Rio soon is back behind you, pulling the both of you to her, sandwiching you between the two older women. You don't react, you should but you don't, too drained to fight and almost grateful for their comfort...almost.

"We should get you home little dove" Rio softly says, her lips returning to your neck to pepper soft kisses across it. Agatha now gently stroking your side, their touch feels caring, loving. Safe. You're almost willed into that false sense of security but Rio's words snap you out of it. The term of endearment. That word....Home.

The numbness vanishes and your body is instead filled with panic, fear and anger. You start to thrash in an attempt to break free from the two women's grips, but as if they expected this to happen, that same purple magic that held your girlfriend in mid air as she was killed, now envelopes your body.

Agatha and Rio both step back, Agatha tutting in disappointment as if you were just a small child misbehaving, Rio however lets out a low growl, the sound sending a chill down your spine.

"Oh my dear I was hoping we didn't have to resort to this but, you leave us no choice" Agatha chastises, her voice more cold, tone disappointed but not lacking empathy like it did when she talked to your girlfriend, almost like she genuinely didn't want to use her magic on you.

A small mutter of what sounds like Latin and a movement of Agatha's arms twists the scenery around you, walls and colours distorting around you before it settles. You blink a few times, your body is no longer restrained, you're not in your house, at least you don't think you are. The walls around you are stone and sturdy looking, there's no windows, no natural light. Only a soft glow coming from somewhere but at least it's enough to vaguely see your surroundings.

You squint trying to adjust your eyes and manage to make out what looks like a staircase, you scramble to reach it, the cold stone floor sending a small jolt through your skin as your hands frantically feel for each step. The soft glow growing as you ascend the staircase of what you're guessing is a basement.

You reach out for the door handle but startle as it suddenly flies open, revealing Rio standing in the door frame, a dark glint in her eye. You freeze, you don't know where you are, Agatha is nowhere to be seen and you're reminded of the threatening growl that Rio produced when you tired to escape their grip seconds ago. Every fibre of your being is telling you to run.

"Don't" Rio lowly warns as she sees your eyes darting around, clearly trying to think of what to do in your panicked state. "Just relax baby. You're home now, you're safe" she says, her voice taking on a more gentle tone, yet there's still a lingering threat in her dark eyes.

Your body starts to tremble, fear rising like a growing wave in your body, you know less about these women than you thought, they're dangerous, Rio isn't even the one that killed your girlfriend but she holds a threatening and powerful presence- she was able to easily restrain you before, you don't want to think about what else she's capable of.

"I-I....I don't understand...why did she...m-my girlfriend...Agatha killed.." your voice cracks, it's still so fresh, you're confused, scared and feel utterly helpless. You don't know what to do, you want to run, scream, anything that would get you out of this situation, away from the women responsible for your girlfriends horrific demise.

"Oh sweet girl we've already told you" Agatha's voice suddenly rings out from behind you. You quickly whip around to see Agatha standing at the bottom of the stairs "She was a problem. An obstacle. She was distracting you, making you believe she loved you" Agatha takes a step up the stairs.

"She made you think the likes of her was all you deserved" She takes another step up. "We are what you deserve darling" another step. "We are the only ones who truly understand you, truly love you" She's now only a few steps down from where you stand, Rio still blocking the doorway.

Agatha's voice is soothing, soft but with her closing in you feel utterly trapped, running back into the room would do nothing, Rio is blocking the only exit, you could try running past Rio but with her apparent strength and Agatha's ability to hold people mid air without touching them....you might as well be an animal in a cage.

Both Agatha and Rio seem to pick up that you've realised how helpless your own situation is, a soft semi triumphant smile dancing across their faces. Agatha closes the distance and gently wraps her arms around you, pulling you in to a warm embrace.

"I've got you darling, we've got you, everything will be just fine" Agatha says, her voice, gentle, calm and reassuring reminding you of how a mother would comfort her child.

"You'll learn to love us as much as we do you, just let us" Rio muses in your ear, making you aware she's directly behind you. You know your best bet is to play along, to try and feel the comfort despite how wrong, at least before an opportunity arises for escape- but as Rio starts to kiss your neck like she did before you can't stop yourself from tensing, you felt disgusted the first time but now it feels worse- knowing she did this as your girlfriend was being killed, kissing your neck just like she used to-

Rio takes notice but doesn't seem to mind, continuing to place soft loving kisses up and down your neck, her cold hands resting possessively on your hips Agatha is still holding you close in a warm hug, her arms wrapped comfortingly around you. She buries her face in your hair and inhales, humming softly.

"Hmm we've been so patient you know darling, waiting for the right time. These things can't be rushed, but oh it was worth it my dear. You're here and we're going to take such good care of you" Agatha says, pulling back to admire you, your eyes are red and puffy, your lip quivering slightly, your eyes full of fear, heartbreak and a hint of anger but that does nothing to quell your beauty to Agatha.

She leans in closing any distance left and presses her lips to yours in a gentle almost careful kiss, as if she's testing your reaction. You immediately recoil but don't get too far as Rio is still directly behind you. You already felt repulsed by Rio kissing your neck, but now the woman who just killed your girlfriend in front of you is kissing you- it makes your body fill with more disgust and anger.

Agatha frowns, looking almost upset that you felt so disgusted at her kiss. Rio of course immediately recognizes her lovers reaction and her anger flares, she didn't care that you felt disgusted by her advances but you being disgusted by Agatha...

Rio's fingers dig into your arms painfully. You yelp and tense, breathing becoming slightly panicked, your anger quickly quelled by fear once again.

Rio then spins you around, her fingers digging harder into your arms, her long nails starting to draw blood. "I know this is new to you but this- we are your life now. And you will learn quickly" Rio growls through gritted teeth, always the defensive one when it came to Agatha.

Agatha's hands quickly cover Rio's and she gently pries them from your arms, you've not been too disobedient yet so she stops Rio's anger lead movements. She carefully leads the two of you up the stairs out of the basement, pushing you to the side with gentle caution, giving you a small smile with just a flash of warning in her eyes before turning back to the seething Rio.

"Be calm my love, as you said she's still new to this, she'll adjust. She'll be our perfect girl in no time" She gently reassures her lover, holding Rio's hands with a firm gentleness. Rio grumbles something in another language but takes a breath and her body seems to relax.

Agatha smiles lovingly and leans forwards to meet Rio's lips, pulling her into a loving kiss. Rio returns it eagerly, deepening the kiss with an almost desperation to feel as much of her lover as possible, quickly forgetting about any anger she held.

They both seem lost in the kiss and you see an opportunity. Your chances are slim for actually getting out, its the dead of night, most people will be fast asleep...but if you could run out, yell...get someone's attention, even if it means Rio and Agatha catching you again, it might mean someone would investigate. Find your girlfriend's body....see that you're missing. It has to be worth a try.

Before you can talk yourself out of it you make a sprint for the front door. Your hands shake as you grasp at the doorknob and a small sob of desperation escapes you as it doesn't budge. You know you're not strong enough to break down the door so you quickly run into another room, locking the door behind you even if you know it'll do nothing to stop either Agatha or Rio.

Your eyes dart around the room looking for any kind of escape, they land on a window and you rush over, attempting to open it but like the door it doesn't budge. Your breathing is fast, shaky, panicked. Adrenalin pumping through your body trying not to think about the consequences of trying to escape, you need to try, something, anything, just some way of alerting anyone.

The window is big enough for you to fit through, you could break it, Agatha and Rio must have noticed by now, you don't have time, you need to act now. Your eyes focus on the near by bookcase, spotting a sturdy looking decoration you grab it and will all the strength you have, hurl it at the window.

It doesn't break. The ornament just bouncing off the glass harmlessly. Your heart sinks....it should have worked....you scramble to find something else but stop dead in your tracks as you see the now open door, Rio and Agatha standing in it with fury on their faces.

Gone is the gentleness in Agatha's eyes, replaced with anger, disappointment and is that hurt? It makes you feel almost guilty but as you look at Rio you're quickly filled with immobilizing fear, her eyes dark, swimming with deep rage.

"You really think it'd be that easy?" Agatha mocks, her voice dripping with distain. "I thought you were a smart girl, surely you knew your efforts where fruitless?" She questions with a dry laugh. You don't dare respond, not even confidant you could speak coherently right now.

"You shouldn't have done that" Rio's voice resonates through the room, filling you with impending dread. She then looks at Agatha beside her almost as if seeking permission for something, Agatha gives a small semi reluctant nod and in a flash Rio has you by the throat, dragging you back down to the basement. Her hand is tight around your neck, almost completely cutting off your airway. She then roughly throws you to the hard stone floor releasing the grip on your neck.

You cough and splutter, trying to get sufficient air back into your lungs, clutching your throat, half in natural response and half in trying to protect it from another attack.

"You need to be taught a lesson little dove, I think I'll start by clipping your wings" Rio says with a low menacing growl. She starts slowly walking forward, the air growing colder as she does. You quickly scramble backwards until you hit the wall, looking like a terrified prey animal being cornered by an apex predator.

Rio looms over you, her dark eyes observing your fear. Your mind is racing almost as fast at your heart is, you knew that trying to run would have it's consequences but the existential fear and dread that's consuming your body is nauseating.

"I-I'm s-sorry- I- it wont happen again" you plead, your voice shaky and pathetic, trying to dig yourself out of the grave you dug knowingly, curled in on yourself, looking as small as you sound.

"No it won't. I'll make sure of that." Rio snarls before yanking out one of your legs from your curled up position, you open your mouth to plea once again but it's interrupted with a scream, ripped from your lungs as Rio stamps down hard on your lower right leg, searing pain shooting through your body as the bone snaps in half. Tears quickly blurring your vision.

"Oh I know baby it hurts doesn't it?" Rio coos "But this is what happens when you run little dove, you have to learn your lesson" She explains with a small sympathy but you hardly pay attention, the agonising pain in your leg consuming you whole. Broken sobs wracking your body, your eyes tightly shut as tears flow from them, hoping this is somehow all a dream but as you feel a sharp blade press just below your shoulder your eyes snap open again, meeting Rio's piercing gaze.

"Eyes on me" She demands, her voice low, cold, angry. "You need to pay attention or you'll learn nothing" Rio snarls before pushing the blade into your shoulder, breaking the skin, blood starting to stain your shirt.

You yelp, the cut relatively shallow but with the excruciating pain from your broken leg it's like adding fuel to an already raging fire. You try to get away but you're already sat against the basement wall and the small movement makes jolts of pain shoot up your body, an anguished sob leaves your lips.

Rio growls as you try to move away to no avail and she harshly thrusts her dagger into your shoulder, burying the blade to the hilt. You scream so loud that your throat burns, in fact it feels like your entire body is made of molten lava, blistering pain ravaging your every sense.

"I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry! P-please make it stop! Please I'm sorry Rio, Agatha- I'm sorry" You plead between sobs, the pain too much to bare, suddenly craving the gentle moments before you tired to run, as disgusted as you were you just want to be held again.

Rio's eyes soften at your broken pleas, you even used both their names despite Agatha not being in the room, it's clear she's manged to break you for now and all her anger vanishes, her softness returning in her face. She gently and very carefully pulls her dagger out of your shoulder, causing a whimper from you.

"Shh baby girl I've got you, I'll make you feel better my little dove" Rio coos, her voice now soft and loving. She places an open-mouthed kiss to your stab wound, your blood smearing her lips. You feel the wound close, the pain in that area coming to a screeching halt, you don't bother questioning it, grateful that it's gone but you soon whimper again as the flaring pain in your broken leg makes itself apparent once again.

"I know, I know baby just breathe for a second okay?" She softly sooths, gently wiping the tears from your face, you want to question why she isn't healing your leg but as you open your mouth to speak she leans in, pressing her bloodstained lips to yours, the coppery taste of your blood filling your mouth for a moment before Rio's tongue slips past your lips, calming every part of your mouth in a dominating but loving kiss. You let it happen, trying not to think about how your girlfriend would kiss you like this- it actually feels slightly nice.....it's clear through the kiss that Rio does love you despite her actions seconds ago, you're at least grateful for a positive distraction to the horrible pain in your leg.

Rio smiles against your lips as she feels you not resisting and after a little while longer of her enjoying finally getting to kiss you like this she pulls back, her cheeks ever so slightly flushed and a loving smile gracing her lips. She then carefully moves herself so her face is hovering above the bone she broke in your lower leg.

"Hold still my little dove" She says softly, any hint of anger or coldness gone, completely replaced with gentle and caring love. She then leans down, placing her hands on either side your leg, a soft green glow emitting from them. Rio places a soft kiss right above the area of your broken bone and a comforting warmth spreads through your body, eliminating any pain left. You let out a sigh of relief, slumping against the cold stone wall.

"There we go, all better sweet baby" Rio says, gently wrapping you in her arms, having you sit in her lap. You lean into her, your body exhausted from all the pain you experienced and craving gentleness, not currently caring about who it's coming from.

Rio coos sweet nothings into your ear as she cradles you in her lap, gently playing with your hair in a motion that's almost enough to make you drift to sleep. It's then that Agatha walks down the basement steps, her face softening as she sees you curled up in Rio's lap, eyes red and puffy but leaning into Rio's touch willingly.

"Is our girl finally being good again?" Agatha questions gently as she approaches. You look up at Agatha, the woman who killed your girlfriend, you should be feeling utter rage at the sight of her but after everything today, the pain you just endured...all you want is for her to hold you too.

"She's learned her lesson my love, come, see how much see needs us" Rio invites, Agatha doesn't hesitate to join Rio on the cold basement floor, Rio helping Agatha gently guide you to lay across the laps of the two women, your head in Agatha's lap. You happily let it happen, the new position feeling so comfortable, so safe, Agatha's hands gently massaging your head, her fingers weaving though your hair occasionally. Rio's hands gently caressing your body, feeling significantly warmer than before. It doesn't take long until you're asleep cradled in both women's laps, it's wrong, you know it is, but you feel protected, comforted and after all that's happened today that's what you need, even if it's from the very hands that caused that very pain....

[sydneymykah]

BEYONCE THE MESSENGER?

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Astrology & Numerology ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐋𝐔𝐁𝐌𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝟐𝟗𝐭𝐡?

ACT I: Renaissance - July 29th

ACT II: Cowboy Carter - March 29th

Act III: ____ - ____ 29th?

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

★ Beyonce is a spiritual woman. She makes it very apparent in her lyrics and her visuals. She’s a believer in astrology, religion, the occult and spirituality. Beyonce is also an intentional woman. So I find it to be no coincidence that those reasons are behind why she decided to release her three act projects all on the 29th of specific months. Both on Fridays.

“Cuz I’m a clever girl” - Beyoncé

𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 - 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲

★ 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 on Friday is nothing new in the modern days of music. In fact Beyonce pioneered it and made it an industry standard when she dropped her self titled album with little to no announcement. With visuals to back it. Making Friday, the day of Venus, the day she drops albums feels alined. Especially with these three act projects. She could’ve easily picked any day as we’ve seen with artists like Tyler the creator who dropped his recent album on a Monday morning despite the new norm.

★ 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 is ruled by Venus which coincidentally so is Beyonce. Venus rules many things involving beauty, love and the arts. Her choice to release what will probably be her most studied albums next to lemonade on the day of Venus feels like beautiful poetry. Since self titled Beyonce has put artistry over hits. (Although 4 laid the foundation) Artistic vision over charts. Visuals and story telling over gimmicks. In 2013 she said in her documentary life is but a dream, “People don’t make albums anymore”. Ever since then she’s been putting all her passion and love into these projects. Choosing Friday to release her albums and then that choice becoming the norm can show not only her impact but how shes become all about the art.

★ 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 the goddess, who Beyonce has also channeled, was worshiped for her beauty and eroticism but also for victory when she brought victory to the Romans. Beyonce invokes victory when she uses her platform and status to get what she wants. Specifically as an artist she wants people to pay more attention to black music history and the importance of black artists. To many, whether in the industry or not, Beyonce is seen like a hero. Especially to black woman. Her victories feel like ours. Beyonce credits black artists who were/are overlooked and uplifts the new upcoming ones. When she wins awards and breaks records with these songs/projects we too win with her.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝟐𝟗𝐭𝐡

𝐈𝐧 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲 𝟐𝟗 𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝟏𝟏.

11 in numerology:

★ 𝟏𝟏 in numerology can be perceived like yin and yang. The masculine and feminine, the active and passive. Both exist next to each other. One and One. Balance. Which can be representative of what Beyonce wants out of these albums. To set things right. “We’ll be the ones to purify our father’s sins”. 11 can be referred to as the physic master. Jesus being the example for his name adds up to 11. Being the messenger of god. Beyonce is a religious woman so it’s no stretch to think she believes she should be a messenger of god as well. She sees the future she wants with these albums. She has even referred to herself as “Beysus” just saying lol. 11 being the numerology behind the day she releases these specific projects her message is to educate the masses on the black history of certain genres of music. These albums existing being the message she wants to put out.

★ 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 with 2 and 9 being what makes 11 here it’s stated that 2 is peace and fluent speaker. 9 being humanity and brotherly love. This three act project is meant to represent all of these things. Beyoncés using her voice and other peoples voices to send a personal message. Beyoncés own personal journey of finding peace. Humanity being talked about specifically racism, discrimination, and misogyny. Brotherly love being exuded in these projects through collaboration and the merging of genres.

Numerology pdf ;)

11 in tarot:

The Justice Card

★ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 Justice card. Being the symbol of truth and representing justice, fairness, and showing us the outcome of certain actions. The time of judgement. Beyoncé’s Act one and two share a similarity. The reclaiming of a genre(s) that originated with Black/African Americans. Renaissance being house music and Cowboy Carter being country. It feels extremely intentional that this date, the 29th, was chosen for this exact reason. Beyonce is, if you will, bringing justice to the black voices that were snubbed and silenced out of their own genres. She’s placing judgment on the music industry who has upheld ostracizing, discriminating, and casting aside black artists in these said genres.

11 in astrology:

★ 𝐀𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 is the 11th sign in the Zodiac. Ruled by Uranus this air sign is known to be UNIQUE. Futuristic, ahead of its time, innovative, a bit more free thinking than others and carries humanitarian traits. Aquarius tends to care a lot about the environment around them especially their community. This is why the 11H is the house of friendship, networking, and social groups. The topics of the first two acts aim to show the possibilities of being a genreless artist, finding community and giving back to communities. Uranus is a planet that rules the future. The interesting thing about this to me is the best way to predict the future is to know the past and to be aware of the present. When it comes to Beyoncés 3 ACT project they all aim to be innovative. (We don’t have act three yet but that’s a clear pattern) Not just sonically but lyrically as well. Knowing the past of these genres, how they’re being treated in the present and shining a light on them, hoping for a better(more just) future. It’s crazy to see how quickly these predictions/observations have come true. We hear Beyonce say lines like “Wildfire burnt his house down, insurance ain’t gon pay no Fannie Mae,” and we’ve seen the fires in LA and how insurance companies have treated the victims. Beyond this Beyoncé’s purpose of these albums in my opinion is to show the potential future of music, specifically music that black people have been shut out of. With the hopes more black artists feel the freedom and liberation to be in any genre they want to participate in. I mentioned Aquarius being a bit more free thinking than others. At the Renaissance tour the interlude right before I’m that Girl had a line that is looped repeatedly: “Be free”. And quotes like, “whoever controls the media controls the mind”, and “Imagination is more important than knowledge”. Using symbolism like hive mind, the news and robots to show her audience to free themselves of the box society puts them in. The box society and the music industry has tried to put her in.

Overall:

★ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 definitely a clear pattern as to why Friday the 29th was chosen to be the date these albums are being released. The artistic integrity, the feeling of victory when a new album is released and the unsung voices of the past get the chance to be seen and heard. Beyonce places herself as the messenger, the mastermind, the judge. The one with the sword and the one with the light. Passing judgment to the music industry who has treated her and other black artists of the past with blatant disregard after years of being discredited. She does this whilst also uplifting the new artists, the artists of the future. To be innovate, think outside the box, and to be free.

There’s more to add here considering the specific months these albums were released and the astrology behind the number 29 more. So stayed tuned, there might be a Pt. 2

xoxo

- Sydney Mykah ✫彡

[daydreamgoddess14]

What's it take to get your number?

What's it take to bring you home?

Here she is! My first Bucky fic (😬)

From my Valentine's Lovebomb event, this one is for Emily 💜

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader insert, no use of y/n, no applicable warnings - just some cute fluff while I dip my toe into another fandom.

Masterlist

Of all of the things Yelena had talked you into, this was undoubtedly the worst.

And she had, of course, talked you into some truly awful shit.

If she could see you now, scowling into your margherita, she’d probably throw something at you.

Hey! Smile a little, huh?

As it happens, the thought of it does make you smile.

She's been good to you since you met. Being Valentina's PA was often an utterly thankless existence. The way she'd collected up Yelena, Alexei, John Walker and the others had been admirable.

Adding Bucky Barnes into the mix had been a goddamn coup.

They mostly went about their business as instructed and paid you little to no attention, but Yelena had spotted you still working away late into the night just before Christmas. She'd disappeared and returned twenty minutes later with cartons of Cantonese food which she insisted you shared.

Since then, a tentative friendship had blossomed between you both.

At the bar, there’s plenty of small talk going on in the background. Lots of organising.

The tables have been arranged loosely in a grid with plenty of space between them to move around.

Not that you have to move anywhere.

The instructions have been made very clear.

Yelena read them out with such glee, you suggested that she go instead.

So you sit, and you wait… then they ring a bell and the men come in and also sit down, yes? Hmm… says you have five minutes. Seems not long enough? Then bell goes again and you stay in your seat. The men move around and you have more handsome men to talk to! Fun, right?

Oh yes. Great fun. So much fun.

Next time Yelena suggests speed dating, you’re going to drag her kicking and screaming with you.

You steal a glance at the time, only a few minutes until the shitshow kicks off.

You signal the waiter for another drink, god knows you need it.

A couple of deep, cleansing breaths and the bell goes.

The noise and activity around you does distract you.

You glance around quickly at the couple of people around you, the beautiful women in their barely there dresses, poker straight hair and lashes so long they could be used as a fan.

You’ve made an effort, of course.

A certain blonde pain in your ass made sure of it.

This top, this skirt, these shoes.

She threw them at you.

Girl, the skirt has pockets!

The woman at the table next to you looks completely underwhelmed by her first five minute attendee.

Her eyes wide and her mouth in a fixed line.

The poor guy loosens his tie nervously.

A tie? Yikes.

He seems uncomfortable, clearly aware of the unfavorable impression he's making.

You’re almost transfixed by the car crash about to unfold in front of you.

This has got to be more entertaining than your date, right?

This is the shit you could watch all night long.

A low cough alerts you to your own car crash.

You steel yourself, a fake smile already in place.

“Hey,” he says.

The smile begins to slip.

You know that voice.

Why do you know that voice?

How do you know that voice?

By the time you actually look at him, the smile is long gone.

“Oh fuck.” It could be a whisper. It could be a squeak.

Either way, it’s barely audible so of course he heard it.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he grins, slightly incredulously.

“What are you doing here, Bucky?”

“Same as you, apparently.”

“Did you follow me?”

“Why the hell would I follow you?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Did Yelena put you up to this? I’m going to fucking kill -”

“She didn’t put me up to anything,” he held up his hands in surrender. “And, I’d like to see you try,” he adds disparagingly.

He’s not wrong.

“So, why are you here?”

“Sam thought it would be a good idea. He says I’m too introspective.”

“Nice. He’s such a good friend,” you bite back.

“Right? He’s got enough charm for both of us.”

“So you don’t want to be here either?”

“Does it look like it?” He frowned.

“Fine. So we sit in silence until you can move on.” You tell him sternly, reaching for your drink and taking a long gulp. You signal the waiter again for another.

He scoffed and shook his head.

“I’m not sitting in silence. Sam says I should talk more, so let's talk,” he declares, and you just roll your eyes at his stubbornness.

“What the hell is there to even talk about?” you ask, “you literally have no idea who I am?”

Bucky seems undeterred by your attitude.

“What kind of books do you like?” he asks casually. “What kind of… seriously?” You eye him suspiciously.

“Yeah, you’ve always got your head in a book. You say I don't know who you are but I've seen you. Recommending stuff to Yelena - not to me, though - so what do you like to read?” He leaned forward on the table, making it wobble.

“Anything,” you mutter with a sigh, “everything, really. The classics, fantasy, thrillers, romance.” He nods along as you speak. “What about you?” You ask hesitantly.

“I’ve been reading the classics lately, actually,” he admits.

“Oh sure,” you roll your eyes.

“Hey, it’s true. I just finished Pride and Prejudice.”

“And did you enjoy it?” As you ask your question, the bell rings out.

“Gentlemen, time to move on to the next table please,” the organiser calls out.

“Hold that thought, doll. Guess I’ll see you around?” He stood, waiting patiently for the man in the tie to move along.

The woman at the neighboring table suddenly seems thrilled with her new date. Bucky offers her a smile, and she responds with a giggle.

He takes his seat at the next table, but instead of engaging with his new date, he leans back over to you.

“I loved it. I like the chemistry between Elizabeth and Darcy and the layers of their relationship. It’s probably my favourite romance.”

The woman next to you looks a little put out.

“Your favourite romance? Which others have you read?” You can’t help but ask.

The man directly across from you is growing increasingly annoyed, watching the conversation unfold with a sense of irritation, like he's watching a tense tennis match.

“I liked it more than Jane Eyre, and Wuthering Heights.”

A small, surprised smile curves up the corner of your mouth as Bucky continues to ignore his next date.

“Uhh, excuse me?” she interjected, her voice laced with irritation.

“Sorry ma’am, I’ll just be a minute.” Bucky calmly replies, not breaking eye contact with you.

“I’m not a fan of Wuthering Heights either, I tried to be in my tortured youth.” You admit.

He laughs and it’s… magical.

“Any others you’d recommend?”

“North and South -”

“Gaskell?” He confirms, you nod. He mirrors your nod, a small smirk crossing his face.

“Yeah, another brooding gentleman and headstrong woman.”

“Huh, sounds familiar.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

Meanwhile, your new date grows increasingly impatient, tapping on the table incessantly, while Bucky's date becomes frantic as she attempts to catch the organiser's attention.

The man at your own table finally interjects, addressing Bucky directly.

“Excuse me, buddy, you're supposed to move on after five minutes, you know?”

“Sorry man, just seeing where this goes,” he shrugs before looking back at you. “Got any newer recommendations? Feels like I’m… stuck in the past sometimes,” he grins lopsidedly.

“Romance, or something else?”

“Let’s stick with romance,” he leans in with his elbows on his knees.

“Try Emily Henry,” you tell him as your new drink arrives.

“Excuse me sir, you do need to move on?” The waiter insists as he carefully places your drink down.

Bucky sighs, turning back in his seat to face his actual date.

“Finally, I might be able to grab a quick minute before the bell goes -” your date starts with a smile.

“Emily Henry, huh? Book Lovers author? I saw it but didn’t pick it up,” Bucky leans over again.

“I’ve got a copy, I’ll bring it over.”

“That’s great, thanks.”

“And North and South, too?” You ask.

“I look forward to it.”

“Excuse me!” Your date interjects loudly.

You look down at the table with a blush as Bucky turns away again.

“So, how long have you been single?” You hear your date ask as the bell goes again.

“And move on again please, gentlemen.” The organiser smiles.

Your date does so, following Bucky with an angry frown.

With another table between you, you assume that’s your additional ‘date’ with Bucky over and turn to greet your next date.

Now, from three tables away, Bucky calls down the row to you.

“Hey, doll, there’s a new bookstore opened by Sam’s place. We should check it out?”

You nod to placate him while disgruntled voices around you mutter and curse his interruptions.

The bell rings again and everyone moves on once more.

From five tables away he asks about the recipe for the pasta dish you made for lunch with Yelena last week.

From seven tables away he shouts to ask whether you saw the last episode of Traitors.

“That is enough, sir. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave,” the organiser says with exasperation at the next bell.

“But we're getting along so well,” he protests as two waiters try to lead him to the door.

Giving up, he gives you a half shrug and a wave.

“See ya later, kid.”

He leaves without further disruption.

You turn back to your latest date but your enthusiasm has left the building with Bucky.

Despite the tedious hour that follows, no conversation manages to match the level of engagement you experienced in your initial encounter.

You had been under the distinct impression that he had no idea who you were. Of all of them, Yelena was the only one who made an effort. Alexei occasionally pulled you into conversation, usually when he needed an additional body on his side in an argument, but Bucky walked past your desk almost daily without a word or a glance.

You couldn't help but wonder why he chose tonight, of all evenings, to engage with you.

He could have ignored Sam's suggestion to attend. He could have ignored you completely.

You'd given him an out, offered to sit in silence.

His casual comment to your second date echoed in your mind: “Sorry man, just seeing where this goes.”

Those simple words had hinted at a deeper curiosity or interest, beyond just passing time at a speed dating event.

It had been both impressive and frustrating to see the usually stoic Bucky calling across tables, asking you questions about your job, how long you'd worked for Valentina, with an animated excitement that seemed to be reserved solely for you.

The organiser called time and you wrapped your coat tightly around you, the mid-February nights were cold and you were ready for bed.

You shot Yelena a brief text, letting her know you had arrived home safe and sound, choosing to leave her hanging when it came to details about the event.

After a fitful night, you arrived at the office the following morning, books safely nestled in your bag.

Yelena is parked at your desk, her feet casually propped up as if she'd taken permanent residency.

She raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“So, did you find the love of your life?”

“I'm never doing that again,” you warn with a pointed finger in her direction.

“Really?” A familiar voice behind you asks. “And here I thought you had a good time.”

You turn around to see Bucky standing there, his gaze fixed on you with a cheeky smile.

Yelena can barely contain her excitement, her grin widening even further.

Her feet hit the floor with a thud as she eagerly joins the conversation, eyes darting between the two of you. She turns first to Bucky.

“Wait, you were there?” Her question laced with disbelief.

Bucky shrugged nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to have attended a speed dating event.

“Yeah, and?” He asked, his indifference only increasing Yelena's excitement.

“You went speed dating?” She asks incredulously. He doesn't look at her as he answers, he looks only at you.

“I went speed dating.” He confirms.

“And all you got were book recommendations?” You add, reaching into your bag to hand him the two books.

“Well I was kinda hoping I got a little more than that,” Bucky smirks, his expression filled with a hint of mischief.

Yelena's eyes widened, her gaze darting back and forth between you and Bucky.

“Wait, what's this? What's with you two?”

“I mean, I did think you were scared of me-” he began.

“You don't scare me,” you cut in firmly.

His smile widened further.

“Good to know.”

Yelena watches the exchange with wide eyes.

“This is so weird,” she mumbles to herself.

“So, you think you'll do it again?" You ask him brazenly.

Bucky grins at your bold question.

“Maybe,” he muses before adding with a twinkle in his eye, “but only if you're there.”

FIN

[itendtothinkalot]

strawberry ice cream

summary: taehyun’s never liked strawberry ice cream, but for five years, he’s pretended to, just to make you happy. one day, he finally confesses his feelings! trying to keep your cool, you’re struggling to handle the situation, but taehyun? he’s acting different, a little too confident for your own good. now, with his teasing, you’re not sure whether to be flustered or admit that maybe… you feel the same way.

genre: fluff!!! just all around fluff!

characters: best friend!taehyun x f!reader <333

words: 6.7k

warnings: none!!! i hope

Taehyun has dated before—many times, actually. He was smart, confident, and undeniably good-looking. Girls naturally gravitated toward him, drawn to his quiet charisma. And for the most part, he welcomed it. Dating was simple, effortless.

Until it wasn’t.

Because no matter how pretty, how kind, how perfect they seemed, something always felt… off. The spark that everyone talked about—the feeling that made people stay—it never lasted. He tried convincing himself it was normal, that love wasn’t supposed to feel like fireworks all the time. But deep down, he knew.

Love wasn’t supposed to feel like settling.

And maybe, just maybe, it was because of you.

The thought lingered at the back of his mind, unspoken but persistent, like a song stuck on repeat. You, his best friend. The one constant in his life. The one person he never had to impress. The one girl he never had to chase—because you were always there, smiling at him like he was just Taehyun, not someone to be won over.

And maybe that’s why it scared him so much.

Because if he admitted it—if he really let himself feel it—he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to go back to pretending.

—

“Here.” You handed him a cone of strawberry ice cream, your fingers brushing against his for a fleeting second.

Taehyun looked up at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Thanks.”

The contrast between you two had always been apparent. Where you were all bright energy, he was quiet steadiness. You were the type to run headfirst into situations, heart first, no hesitation—while he was the one standing behind, arms crossed, sighing before inevitably following to make sure you didn’t do anything too reckless.

Even now, as you excitedly licked your ice cream, eyes crinkling in delight at the taste, he couldn’t help but think—you’re so easy to love.

He took a slow bite of his own. Strawberry ice cream. Not his favorite. Not even close.

But it was yours. And for some stupid, unexplainable reason, that made it taste better.

“Are you even enjoying that?” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him. “You always make this face when you eat strawberry ice cream, like you’re forcing yourself.”

Taehyun raised a brow, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You rolled your eyes but grinned. “Sure. Whatever you say.” Then, without warning, you leaned in and took a playful bite out of his ice cream, giggling as you pulled back.

Taehyun stilled.

You didn’t even notice.

“See?” you hummed, licking the remnants from your lips. “Mine’s better.”

He swallowed. Hard.

It wasn’t the ice cream. It wasn’t the teasing. It was the way you did things so effortlessly, so casually—like stealing a bite of his ice cream was just normal between you two. Like it didn’t mean anything.

For you, it didn’t.

For him?

His grip on the cone tightened slightly.

You had no idea, did you? No idea how badly he wanted to close the space between you and wipe the ice cream off your lips with his thumb. No idea how every time you leaned in close, his brain short-circuited trying to act normal.

No idea that he’d spent years convincing himself he was just your best friend.

And he’d keep pretending.

Because that’s all he was allowed to be.

For now.

—

Taehyun barely reacted when you slammed the door behind you, though his grip on his phone tightened slightly. He already knew tonight wasn’t going to end well—the second Soobin had smugly announced that he was setting you up on a blind date, Taehyun had felt a distinct irritation settle in his chest. Not that he could say anything about it. Not that he had any right to.

Still, he couldn’t help but scowl internally at his friend’s meddling. 

His expression remained unreadable as you stomped into the apartment, throwing your shoes off with more force than necessary. You muttered an impressive string of curse words under your breath, arms crossed so tightly over your chest that he thought you might combust.

Then, with a dramatic sigh, you spotted him on the couch. Taehyun barely had time to process before you fell onto his lap, burying your face into his sweater as you threw your arms around him in a bone-crushing hug.

"Men are stupid," you declared, voice muffled against his chest.

Taehyun let out a breathless chuckle, adjusting to the sudden weight of you sprawled across him. "I mean, I won’t argue with you there," he said, keeping his tone light even though he was struggling to ignore just how close you were.

Your body was warm against his, your scent—something sweet, something unmistakably you—filling his senses. It wasn’t fair. How easily you curled into him like this. How naturally you sought comfort in him, never once realizing that he was part of the very problem you were complaining about.

"I take it that the date didn’t go well?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

You groaned dramatically, tightening your hold around him. "Disaster would be an understatement. First of all, he was late. Like—half an hour late! And then when he finally showed up, he spent the first ten minutes talking about his gym routine."

Taehyun hummed, resting his arm along the back of the couch as he definitely didn’t let his fingers linger in your hair. "Maybe he was nervous."

"Well, then he shouldn’t have tried mansplaining my own job to me."

Taehyun winced. "Yeah. That’s… rough."

Taehyun bit back a smile. God, you were adorable when you were ranting.

"Maybe Soobin should retire from matchmaking," he mused.

"Maybe Soobin should mind his own business," you muttered. Then, with a sigh, you dropped your head back against his shoulder, settling into him like he was the only place in the world that made sense. "It’s so unfair. Why is dating so hard?"

Taehyun stared at the ceiling. It doesn’t have to be.

But he didn’t say that.

Instead, he swallowed down the words, kept his arm loosely draped around you, and pretended like his heart wasn’t beating out of his chest.

Pretended like he wasn’t wishing, just this once, that you’d see him.

—

The two of you were having a conversation.

Well, mostly you were talking. Taehyun was listening, nodding every now and then, letting you ramble as he sipped his coffee.

“I just don’t get it,” you sighed, stirring your drink absentmindedly. “I mean, I want to be in a relationship. I really do. But it’s like—ugh, I don’t know, the moment I actually try, it never works out. Maybe I’m cursed. Or maybe my standards are just too high.”

Taehyun raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for you to continue.

“Like, am I asking for too much? I just want someone who gets me, you know? Someone who actually listens when I talk, someone who doesn’t just nod and smile but really hears me. Someone who’s honest but not in a mean way, who calls me out when I’m being dumb but still sticks around anyway.”

Taehyun hummed. “That’s… oddly specific.”

“Right?” you huffed. “It’s so hard to find.”

Before Taehyun could even think of a response, a shadow fell over the table.

“Hey, I’m Yeonjun,” a smooth voice cut in.

Both of you glanced up at the guy standing next to your table—tall, sharp-featured, and clearly confident in his approach.

“I was with my friends and I just had to come over and tell you that I find you really cute,” he said, flashing you an easy grin.

You blinked at him, lips parting slightly in surprise before you shrugged. “Oh. Thanks.”

And just like that, you turned back to Taehyun, picking up right where you left off. “Anyway, like I was saying—”

Taehyun’s brow furrowed. He stared at you, then at Yeonjun—who was still standing there, slightly thrown off—before the guy awkwardly excused himself and walked away.

Taehyun narrowed his eyes at you. “That guy was flirting with you.”

You glanced over your shoulder, barely sparing Yeonjun another look. “Yeah. And?”

Taehyun frowned. “You keep saying you want to be in a relationship, but when cute guys approach you, you never seem to care.”

You turned to him, meeting his gaze dead-on. “That’s because none of them seem to know me. Not the way you do.”

Taehyun stilled.

You leaned in slightly, voice quieter but firm. “None of them treat me the way you do. What I want is… something we have.”

For the first time in a long time, Taehyun didn’t know what to say. His grip tightened around his coffee cup, his pulse suddenly too loud in his ears.

Because if you meant what he thought you meant—

Oh.

Oh.

Taehyun’s voice was quieter now, more cautious. “That’s because we’re best friends. Of course I know you. That’s... that’s how it is.”

There it was—the wall he built, the familiar, comforting excuse. He was doing what he always did—masking—keeping things light, brushing away the vulnerability that had sparked in him just a moment ago.

But he could’ve sworn he saw a flicker in your eyes.

Your expression changed for the briefest moment. A small tightening of your lips, a flash of something unreadable, almost like you were disappointed. But then, as quickly as it came, it was gone.

You nodded, a little too enthusiastically. “Of course, we’re best friends. That’s what we are.”

It almost felt rehearsed, the way you smiled so brightly, almost like you were trying to convince yourself of it. But Taehyun couldn’t be sure. Was it just him, or was there a shift in the air between you two now? Something that hadn’t been there before.

"Yeah," he replied softly, but the words felt heavier now, lingering in the space between you. “Yeah. Best friends.”

But in his chest, the tightness wouldn't loosen. It wasn’t supposed to feel this complicated, was it? Best friends didn’t look at each other this way, didn’t feel their heartbeats quicken when the other spoke.

He wiped his palms on his jeans, looking anywhere but at you.

You, on the other hand, were too calm. Too nonchalant. Like this wasn’t the most loaded conversation you’d ever had with him.

You leaned back in your chair, your legs crossed casually, as if you hadn’t just dropped a bomb on his chest. “I mean,” you started, your voice sweet, like the conversation had just shifted into another territory entirely. “I am lucky to have someone who gets me like you do.”

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Taehyun didn’t want to just be someone who got you.

He wanted to be the one who had you.

His thoughts were moving faster than his words. God, what was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t take it back, couldn’t unfeel what he was feeling. And by the way you were looking at him right now—so utterly unaware of the weight of your words—he knew it wasn’t something you were going to suddenly realize.

He sighed, trying to laugh it off. “Well, that’s what best friends are for, right?” He almost hated how forced it sounded. How untrue.

The air between you both felt impossibly thick.

You didn’t say anything right away. Instead, you just smiled again, but it was a different kind of smile this time. One that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah, of course,” you said, almost too softly.

And just like that, the moment shifted—slipped through Taehyun’s fingers, leaving only a quiet, unbearable ache in his chest.

But he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. Not yet.

—

Taehyun stared at the glow of his phone screen, his mind racing, unable to shake the thought that had been nagging him ever since that conversation. Could it be? No, he must be crazy. There’s no way. You were so out of his league, otherworldly even. And he... was just Taehyun.

But that one flicker of a change in your expression kept replaying in his mind, like an echo he couldn’t silence. The way you’d paused, the hesitation that flashed in your eyes. It felt like something had almost been said, but you’d stopped yourself.

He didn’t know what to do with it. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

In a moment of desperation, his thumb hovered over the keyboard, and before he could talk himself out of it, he typed: “how to know if a girl likes you?”

He hit search and scrolled through a few websites, the information flooding in with no filter.

“Sign 1: She initiates skin contact.”

Taehyun scoffed under his breath, thinking of all the little moments. Like when you’d casually rest your hand on his arm while laughing, or when you’d bump his shoulder whenever you wanted his attention. Sometimes it was the lightest touch, like when you’d accidentally brush his fingers when handing him something, but it always felt deliberate.

He groaned, covering his face with his hand. No way. It couldn't mean what he thought it meant, could it? 

He scrolled further.

“Sign 2: She confides in you about everything.”

Taehyun's mind immediately went to the way you’d always come to him with the most trivial, random things. From a bad day at work to maybe how you felt during a meeting. You told him everything, like you trusted him more than anyone else, like you couldn’t imagine telling anyone else first.

You always confided in him with a smile, always sought his opinion, even on things as silly as what kind of ice cream to get, or what outfit to wear on a date.

His heart skipped.

Sign 3: She constantly teases you.

Taehyun felt a soft blush creep up his neck. He couldn’t help but think of the countless moments you’d teased him. The way you loved to poke fun at his serious demeanor or the silly nicknames you’d give him just to make him laugh. You always seemed to have this way of keeping him on edge, teasing him just enough to make his heart race.

Even that one time when you’d cornered him with a playful grin, saying, “You know, for someone so smart, you’re so clueless about people.”

He could hear your voice in his head, that playful tone, that mischievous glint in your eye.

Taehyun blinked, pulling his phone back from his face and staring at the screen in disbelief. 

All these signs—these signs—they were all things you’d done. He’d never even thought about it before, too focused on the fact that you were his best friend, his person.

But now? Now it felt like something had shifted in his mind, the gears grinding and clicking into place.

A sudden panic flooded his chest. What if you did like him? What if you always had?

His thumb hovered over his phone screen again, as though he might text you right this second and ask. But then the overwhelming thought hit him: What if he was wrong? What if he misread everything? What if this ruins everything?

He tossed his phone on the bed beside him and buried his face in his pillow, groaning into it. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready to know if he was about to lose the only thing that mattered most to him.

But one thing was clear now: He couldn’t just ignore this feeling anymore. 

And that made him, well, confident.

—

Taehyun felt the strange urge building up inside him—something he couldn’t shake off, no matter how many times he tried to distract himself. He wanted to know, needed to know. He hesitated at your bedroom door, then, taking a deep breath, he knocked.

You groggily opened the door, stretching as you yawned. "Taehyun?" you asked, your voice still laced with sleep. He couldn’t help but notice the way your hair was messily falling over your face, the way your eyes still held traces of sleep. To him, you always looked beautiful, no matter the time of day.

"I have a question for you," Taehyun said, his voice calm. "Do you like me?"

You blinked, still half-asleep, trying to process what he just said. "What?" you muttered, rubbing your eyes.

He stepped closer, his eyes focused on you with an intensity you couldn’t quite understand. “Do you like me?” he repeated, his voice unwavering. This time, his eyes were serious, and the playful tone that usually accompanied his words was gone. Your pulse quickened, and you instinctively took a step back, but Taehyun followed, his presence too close for comfort. You stumbled slightly, your knees hitting the bed as you ended up sitting on it.

“Do you like me?” Taehyun asked again, his voice low and steady, as though he was studying your every movement, every tiny flicker of emotion that passed across your face. He leaned in just slightly, watching the way your breath hitched, how you nervously avoided his gaze. There was something almost intoxicating about the way you looked flustered in front of him, and it made his heart race.

You gulped, feeling your face grow hot. His gaze was too intense, too penetrating, and suddenly, the room felt a lot smaller.

“Taehyun... what are you talking about?” You forced out the words, trying to sound unaffected, but even to your own ears, your voice wavered. Taehyun tilted his head slightly, watching you closely.

"I'm just asking a question." He smiled faintly, as if this was all normal to him. "That day, when you said you wanted to date someone who knows you… isn't that me?"

Your heart skipped a beat. "It could just mean someone like you," you stammered, trying to play it cool, but you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

"Hmm." Taehyun raised an eyebrow, his lips curling up slightly. “Could mean that. But it could also mean something else.”

You swallowed hard. "Mean what?" you asked, doing your best to hide the nervousness bubbling up inside you. You were trying so hard to act casual, but everything inside you was screaming otherwise.

"That you like me," he said, his voice almost teasing now, but there was something deeper in his eyes that made your stomach flutter.

You scoffed, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. "Pfft. I always knew you were smart, I didn’t think you’d be funny too." You tried to brush it off, but your heart wasn’t in it. Taehyun’s gaze never left you, and his smile only grew, his eyes sparkling with something you couldn’t quite decipher.

"Okay. Fine." He said, his tone shifting again, this time more serious, almost playful in a way that made you want to melt. "When you do find the perfect guy, be sure to let me know. Because I want to be ready, to prepare myself for the heartbreak of seeing the person I love fall for someone else."

You stood there in complete shock, unable to process what he’d just said. Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You couldn’t say anything. Taehyun chuckled softly, standing up, but not without giving you one last lingering look.

“And also... you didn’t really answer my question,” he added with a teasing smile, turning toward the door.

Taehyun didn’t get a confession out of you but somehow he found something greater. Confidence. 

—

You woke up, uncomfortable. You could still feel the warmth of Taehyun’s words echoing in your mind, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. You didn’t want to face him—not yet, not when things were so weird between you. So you stayed in your room, lying in bed, hoping he’d leave for a while so you could avoid the inevitable awkwardness.

You finally summoned the courage to get out of bed, dragging yourself to the kitchen for breakfast, hoping for a quick escape. You pushed the door open, only to freeze in your tracks when you saw Taehyun leaning casually against the counter, a glass of water in hand. His messy hair and sleepy eyes made it all the harder to ignore the strange rush of emotions in your chest.

You tried to turn around without saying a word, but as you moved toward the door, his voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Hey,” Taehyun called, his tone light but laced with an unmistakable playfulness. You didn’t even look at him as you slowly turned back to face him.

“I’m not gonna bite,” he continued, his gaze catching yours for just a moment before you quickly darted your eyes elsewhere. “You can get some breakfast. I can go if you want.”

He let out a quiet laugh, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you, even if he didn’t admit it. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, and it made your cheeks heat up.

There was something different about the way he presented himself, almost as if he was trying to win an argument. Taehyun seemed different—almost too confident, as if he had finally come into his own.

You shifted your weight awkwardly, trying to find the words to fill the silence, but they didn’t come. Instead, you muttered, “It’s fine.”

Taehyun watched you, that knowing glint never leaving his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew it was messing with your head. It didn’t help that his relaxed stance seemed to suggest that he wasn’t bothered by the tension between you at all, while you felt like you were unraveling inside.

With a slight tilt of his head, he added, “Come on, you’re not gonna make me stand here all alone, are you?”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nodded, moving past him to grab something for breakfast. Taehyun didn’t make a move to leave. Instead, he leaned back against the counter again, watching you closely, waiting for you to crack under the pressure.

You could feel his eyes on you, and you tried your best to pretend that everything was fine. 

“Look, if it makes you feel better, I can just pretend I didn’t say anything,” Taehyun said, casually leaning back against the counter. “Besides, I’m the one who said I liked you. Why are you acting like you got rejected?”

He let out a soft laugh, one that made you feel both at ease and completely on edge at the same time. The teasing tone in his voice only made the situation harder to navigate. How was it so easy for him? Why couldn’t you just tell him how you felt?

“I’m gonna go shower and head over to Soobin’s,” Taehyun continued, his voice light, but there was that quiet undercurrent of something else. “You can have the rest of the house to yourself.”

He moved to turn, but before he could, you blurted out, “No!”

The word slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it. You froze, the heat in your face betraying the chaos inside your mind. Why did you even say that?

Taehyun paused, his back still turned to you, but his posture stiffened slightly, as if he’d expected more of a reaction but didn’t expect this one. He turned back to look at you, but your gaze immediately dropped to the floor, not daring to meet his.

For a moment, there was silence between you. Your brain was screaming for you to say something—anything—that could explain the rush of emotions that had flooded you in the span of a few seconds. But every time you opened your mouth, the words seemed to get stuck somewhere deep inside.

Taehyun, sensing your hesitation, raised an eyebrow, the faintest smirk curling at the corners of his lips. “What? You want me to stay?”

You opened your mouth again, but nothing came out. You were completely at a loss for words, your heart pounding in your chest, knowing that anything you said could ruin whatever fragile understanding you two had left.

So, instead, you stayed silent. Your mind raced as your thoughts collided with each other, all those things you wished you could say, but couldn’t seem to get past your lips. Taehyun was waiting for you to speak, but you couldn’t.

He sighed softly, almost as if he was amused by the effect he had on you. “You know,” he said, voice quieter this time, “I’m not gonna make it easy for you.”

With that, he turned around leaving you standing there, heart in your throat, unable to move.

—

As Taehyun drove over to Soobin’s, his mind couldn’t stop replaying the conversation from moments earlier. Five years. Five whole years. It had been that long since his feelings for you had started, slowly growing, deepening until they became something undeniable. But for all that time, he’d kept them buried, locked away behind advice, words of wisdom and a friendship that was too comfortable to risk.

He had watched you date other people, listened to you vent about your blind dates, your crushes, and your frustrations. And all the while, he had stayed by your side, always the supportive friend, the one who would laugh with you, talk to you about anything, and pretend that nothing was wrong when his heart ached with each passing day.

But today? Today was different. Seeing you crack under the pressure of his directness, your vulnerability laid bare—it had done something to him. The power he felt now, as if he held some control over your emotions, was both exhilarating and terrifying.

You were always so strong, so in control of yourself, never letting your guard down. But for the first time, he saw something shift in you. Something that made his heart race with anticipation. And what’s more, it was cute. Really cute. How you tried to act like everything was fine, like you weren’t completely freaking out inside, but he could see it in your eyes, in the way your hands fidgeted, how your voice wavered just slightly when you spoke.

And for the first time, he wasn’t angry with himself for not telling you sooner. He wasn’t frustrated with the years of yearning. In fact, it felt almost... right, in a strange way. Maybe he’d always had to wait, maybe he had to be patient, but he was willing to.

He didn’t care if you didn’t see it yet, or if you were too nervous to admit what he could already see. He knew that one day, you’d come to him. And when that day came, he would be there, ready to make you see him the way he’d always seen you.

For now, though, he was content to wait. To let you work through whatever you were feeling. He didn’t need you to have it all figured out right now.

He’d wait for you. And when you were ready, he’d be right here, as he always had been.

—

It was 12am and Taehyun was still out.

You couldn’t understand it. One moment, you were his annoying best friend who had ran through every bad decision in your head. You were a confident person who could face your feelings for Taehyun, and the next thing you knew…it was as if the ground had been ripped from under you. The fear of losing him, the uncertainty, the possibility of ruining the one thing that had always been so solid in your life.

As you paced around the house, your thoughts spiraled, each one more dramatic than the last. Did you scare him off? What if you ruined everything? What if this changes you two forever? The thought of losing Taehyun, not just as a friend but as someone who meant so much more to you, made your chest ache.

And yet, there you were, throwing your phone across the couch, staring at the screen, wondering what you could say, how you could fix it. You were terrified of the silence between you, terrified of confronting what you knew deep down: that you loved him.

Your mind was racing, and just as you were about to call him, the sound of the door creaking open pulled you from your thoughts. You froze, heart pounding as you looked up. There he was.

“Still awake?” he asked, surprised, his eyes flickering over to you. You didn’t know how to respond, your words stuck in your throat..

You nodded in silence, and then it hit you—the familiar feeling of him looking at you, noticing everything, like you were the most important thing in his world. The way he could see through you, the way he knew exactly what you were feeling, even when you couldn’t find the words to express it.

“Good. I bought us supper,” Taehyun smiled, and for a brief moment, everything felt normal again.

You looked over at the bag of food in his hands, and your heart fluttered. Of course, he got your favorite... How did he always know? You could never hide anything from him. He placed the food on the table, the sound of it all grounding you, bringing you back to the present.

“C’mon. I know you haven’t eaten,” he said, that familiar teasing tone in his voice.

How did he know?

Before you could stop yourself, you instinctively responded, “Yes, I have,” your pride rising to the surface.

Then, of course, your stomach grumbled loudly, betraying you.

Taehyun’s eyes flickered to you, his lips twitching into a smile. “Cute,” he mumbled under his breath, shaking his head in amusement. He prepared the food again.

You froze, your mind spinning. The word "cute" etched in the back of your mind. You had felt the warmth of his gaze before, the way he always seemed to see right through you, but this time, it felt different. It felt like he had just peeled away another layer of you, one that you hadn’t even realized was there.

You tried to steady your breath, but it was no use. The butterflies in your stomach had already taken flight, fluttering wildly.

You cleared your throat, “You know you can’t just throw those words out like that,” you said, but there was no conviction in your voice. It was barely a whisper.

Taehyun didn’t even look up, still focused on making the food. It was like he didn’t even realize the effect he was having on you. How could he not see it? The way his every word made your heart race, the way the mere sound of his voice seemed to leave you in a haze.

"What word?" he asked, acting so nonchalant, so... Taehyun. He was always this way—unbothered, like he wasn’t aware of the way he could turn your world upside down with just one glance.

You wanted to backpedal, to change the subject. But you couldn’t. "You know..." You trailed off, not sure how to say it. You didn’t even know if you could say it without completely falling apart.

Taehyun's eyes flicked up to you briefly. “Oh, you mean ‘cute’?” he said, almost as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “But it’s the truth.”

The truth.

And there it was again. That word. The way he said it, so effortlessly, as though he didn’t understand the whirlwind he was creating inside you. The butterflies, the shivers running down your spine. The realization that he wasn’t just teasing you. He meant it.

This time, it wasn’t hunger. It was a rush of emotions, all tied up in those three little letters—cute. Your heart skipped a beat, then raced to catch up. You couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips, but it wasn’t enough to hide how you felt.

You turned away for a moment, hoping he wouldn’t notice how flustered you were. But the heat on your cheeks gave it away, and you could feel his gaze on you, as if he knew exactly what he had done.

Your mind was a jumble of thoughts, your feelings all tangled up in confusion and longing. Was he teasing you? Or was it something more? Something real? Something you couldn’t name but knew, deep down, you were desperate to understand.

You swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself, but Taehyun had already caught you off guard.

You stood there, your heart hammering in your chest, every breath you took feeling shallow as you tried to keep your composure. But, the more Taehyun’s gaze held yours, the more your resolve began to waver. He had always been the one to make you feel safe, to make everything feel easy, but this... this was different. 

You shook your head, trying to ignore the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “You... you can’t just drop that you’re in love with me and pretend that everything’s okay,” you blurted out.

Taehyun raised his eyebrows, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “Oh, we’re finally gonna talk about it?” he asked, clearly amused by your sudden outburst. “Sure, let’s talk about it.”

You huffed, frustration bubbling inside you. You crossed your arms over your chest, pacing back and forth in front of him, your hands gesturing wildly as you tried to explain everything that had been running through your mind. “You... you can’t just tell me you like me when I wake up from a good nap. I—I can’t think straight! And now, I can’t even look at you without feeling... without feeling stupid!” You stopped in front of him, hands on your hips, face flushed with embarrassment. “It’s so embarrassing, and it’s just... it’s so stupid. I can’t even talk, or form sentences, or—ugh—why are you doing this to me?!”

Before you could rant any further, Taehyun interrupted, his voice low but teasing, his lips curling into a smile. “Stupid?” he asked, the amusement in his eyes clear as he took a small step toward you. “That’s how I feel every time I hang around you.”

You blinked, your frustration melting into confusion. Taehyun continued, unfazed. “The guys always ask me why I’m so quiet around you, why I let you do all the talking. And... well, they don’t know that it’s because I love listening to you. You don’t even know this, but I could listen to you talk all day. I’m just as talkative as you are with my friends, but with you...” He stepped even closer now, his voice softening, “...with you, I can’t think straight. I can’t breathe clearly. I just—I can’t do anything.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Taehyun cut you off, his voice growing more sincere. “You think you have it hard? I’ve been in love with you for five years. I’ve been pretending to be as quiet as I am for five years. And I’ve been pretending to like strawberry ice cream for five years. That’s how long I’ve been in love with you.”

You stood there, speechless. Every word he spoke made your heart twist, and yet, somehow, your mind was still stuck on the number five. Five years.

“F-five years?” You were still trying to process the gravity of it all, but Taehyun wasn’t giving you time to think.

He closed the distance between you. His hands rose slowly, his fingers gently cupping your face, his touch sending electricity coursing through your skin. The moment his palms made contact, your breath hitched, and your heart seemed to stutter in your chest.

“Yes,” Taehyun murmured, his voice barely audible as he leaned in a fraction closer. “Five. Years.” He didn’t move away.

You looked up at him, your mind a chaotic mess of thoughts and feelings. 

You felt it, though. The yearning in his eyes, the sweetness in his words, and the vulnerability that was now spilling from both of you. You had been afraid of this—afraid of the risk, of the fear of losing what you already had. But now, standing here in front of him, you knew.

And for the first time in your life, you didn’t want to run away.

Your voice trembled as you looked into his eyes, your heart racing. “What... what are we supposed to do now?”

Taehyun’s hands remained on your cheeks, his thumb gently caressing your skin as he leaned in just a little closer, his breath mixing with yours. “What do you want to do?” he asked softly, his lips brushing against your forehead as he closed his eyes for a brief moment.

You could feel the warmth of his words deep inside, the hope, the love, the honesty—and suddenly, everything else faded away. There was no need for anything more than this moment. Just him. Just you.

You swallowed, the words you had been holding back now slipping past your lips, “I... I want you to stay.”

Taehyun’s lips curled into a subtle smirk as he leaned in just enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. His eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and something deeper that you weren’t sure how to name. His playful tone contrasted the intensity of the moment.

"You asked," he said, his voice low and teasing, making your heart race, "and I’m staying."

You bit your lower lip, still unsure if you were more embarrassed or thrilled by how easily he’d taken control of the situation. The power he exuded made you feel small in the best way, a shift you weren’t used to but secretly relished.

You pouted, crossing your arms and looking away, trying to hold onto some semblance of your usual confident self. "You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?"

Taehyun chuckled, his eyes softening as he stepped closer, his hand brushing your cheek in a surprisingly tender gesture. "Maybe," he teased, leaning in so close you could feel the tension between you. "But I’m enjoying this even more... watching you try to act all tough while you want nothing more than for me to stay."

You stifled a smile, trying to look away, but you couldn’t help the flush creeping up your neck. This whole new side of him, the one that was so sure of himself, was doing things to your insides you couldn’t quite explain.

"Stop looking at me like that," you muttered, but there was a softness in your voice that betrayed your words.

"Like what?" Taehyun asked, his voice dangerously close, and you could feel the teasing grin in his words even if he wasn’t smiling.

"Like you... you know you own me now," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Taehyun’s smirk deepened, his fingers gently lifting your chin so that your eyes locked with his. There was something about the way he was looking at you now, something raw and sincere beneath the teasing, that made your heart flutter wildly.

“You’re the one who wanted me to stay,” he said softly, his voice low and soothing as he leaned in just enough that you could feel the heat of his breath. “You’re the one who asked. And now,” he paused, his hand slipping to your waist, pulling you ever so slightly closer, “now, you’ve got me.”

“You’re too smug,” you muttered, but there was no real heat in your words—only a soft, shy vulnerability that you couldn’t quite hide.

“You like it,” he whispered, his thumb brushing the curve of your jaw. “Admit it.”

You swallowed, your heart racing faster. “I—I don’t know what you're talking about,” you stammered, your voice betraying you.

“Of course you do,” Taehyun said, his lips brushing against your forehead in a soft, almost possessive kiss. “You’re just trying to act tough, but I can tell. I can tell you like this side of me. The one who knows exactly what he wants.” He leaned in just enough for you to feel his breath against your ear, making every part of your skin tingle. “And I think I want you to feel just how much I want you.”

“I—” You couldn’t even form the words to reply, too lost in the moment, too lost in the pull he had on you.

Taehyun’s smile softened, his fingers brushing your cheek once more before he pulled back, just enough to see the effect he had on you. “Don’t worry,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’m not going anywhere.”

[animasola86]

LOST & FOUND 🫂 CH4

After agreeing to become their little girl, you are woken up by Mommy, who has special plans to ease you into your first day of your new life.

soft!Daddy!dom x Mommy!domme x little girl!reader

WARNINGS: F!Reader insert. Explicit sexual content. Mommy/Daddy kink. Dd/Md/lg dynamics. Pet names. Dom/sub undertones. Shared shower. Nudity. Vaginal fingering/assisted masturbation. “Self” care/makeover/waxing. Angst/humiliation. Hurt/comfort. (More notes under the cut!)

WORDS: 8k 🔷️ READ ON AO3

A/N: This chapter is a direct continuation of Chapter 2 and keeps focusing on Reader's new life as the Little Girl of Mommy and Daddy. All following chapters (unless stated otherwise) will follow the past-timeline and show how Reader ended up like she did in chapters 1 and 3. (For more info on Reader, check out the Notes in Chapter 1.) ❗ Please read THIS if you're confused about the tags I listed this under!

Chapter 3 🔷️ Chapter 4 🔷️ Chapter 5

Several months earlier

You woke up after that first night, completely knocked out and overwhelmed, to someone gently shaking you, lips pressing to your pillow-wrinkled cheek, a soft voice cooing for you to wake up. Mommy was there, and while your first instinct was to groan and turn back around and ask for five more minutes, not quite realizing where you were, she basically dragged you out of bed and into the bathroom.

While she certainly meant well, you felt very uncomfortable as she helped you out of the clothes you slept in and into the shower. You wanted to protest, against the fact that you were naked in front of a stranger, and also, didn't you just shower last night? With your mind still hazy with sleep, you wondered if rich people did it like this, showering every night and every morning, possibly several times a day? They definitely didn't have to worry about too much water consumption, apparently. But then the strangest thing happened: the woman you were supposed to call Mommy stripped down as well and stepped in after you, and your muddled mind was silenced immediately.

You were so surprised and more than taken aback by it that you just stood there, with your back to her, not even daring to take another look at her beautiful body. She was a bit taller than you and had all the right curves in all the right places, perfect skin, not a single hair anywhere on her body, except for her long black locks that she wore in a messy bun atop her head, and when she stepped behind you, her hands found your shoulders before she wrapped your unruly tresses around her fingers and brought them up in the same fashion, then slipped a hair tie over the mess to keep it in place.

Then she leaned past you (her perfect breasts pressing against your shoulder blades) and turned the shower on, and while you expected to be hit by either ice cold or scorching hot water, the temperature was perfect right away. That alone was a luxury you'd never experienced before. She angled the shower head to spray down below your chin to keep your head and hair dry.

You were still just standing there, baffled and embarrassed to be this close to such a gorgeous woman (though your main concern was how you felt like a literal child whose Mommy had to help them showering, but you figured that was part of her wanting to take care of you). As you woke up more and more, you became more and more aware and self-conscious of your neglected body. For months, self-care hadn't been an option for you, too much hassle, and for what? But now you wished you could have prepared yourself for this experience in some way, shaved maybe? Made yourself more presentable?

The question remained: what did this woman see in you to treat you like this?

Your anxiety spiked when you felt her soap-covered hands on your body, first on your arms, then she went straight to your breasts, cupping them, squeezing them lightly, rubbing the suds into your skin. You froze, holding your breath, clenching your hands into fists. It was such an intimate gesture, you weren't ready for it. A little sob escaped you, and you felt her pausing, before she leaned closer again, pressing her body against your backside.

“Are you okay, honey?” she asked directly into your ear, her velvety voice causing you to shiver deeply. “You gotta tell me if you don't like what I do, okay? This is for you. If you don't want it, I'll stop.”

You took a shuddering breath. “N-no,” you urged out. “I... I mean... it's okay... it's just... all so new...”

Her laugh echoed through the steam-filled room. “Never been touched by a woman before, sweet girl?”

“N-never had somebody... take care of me like this...” you whispered breathlessly, the thick air and her closeness making you dizzy.

You felt her lips on your cheek, the touch lingering as she spoke softly: “You better get used to this. We have so much love and care to give, you have no idea.”

It could have sounded like a threat, but you closed your eyes and nodded, leaning against her when she continued the gentle groping of your boobs. She chuckled again, bringing her lips down to your shoulder. Her hands moved lower eventually, rubbing over your stomach and down your hips, and you still couldn't move, you just endured (or silently enjoyed it?), but when you could feel her stepping around you, one of her hands slipping down your front while the other curved around your rear, you flinched badly.

Your feet squeaked on the tiled floor, and you almost lost your footing, but instead of getting away from her, she grabbed you a little harder, her hands on your waist, pulling you back, gently but firmly. Your chest was rising and falling faster, your heart nearly exploding behind your ribs. She shushed you, kissing along your neck as she returned her hands where she initially wanted to bring them.

“It's okay, sweetheart, let Mommy see, yes?” she cooed into your ear, and you stiffened, inhaling deeply and holding your breath as her hand brushed down your tense belly and directly between your legs.

You felt so embarrassed. You were not as spotless as she was, some would say natural, and while you let everything grow because you couldn't care about it anymore in the months of your slow downfall, you wished you could go back to not caring now. But you cared, you didn't want this woman to touch you in places nobody had touched in a very long time, yourself included, at least not this intimately.

You tried to squirm away, but she grabbed your ass in response, holding you in place. You let out a quiet yelp. “It's alright,” she said calmly, her lips back at your ear, the touch scorching hot. “I will not hurt you. I will not judge you. You are a beautiful girl, sweetheart, and nothing will ever hide that.” As she spoke, she started rubbing her fingers along your slit, a gentle touch, just a caress, every stroke of her hand accentuated by more soothing words. “You deserve to be loved, my sweet thing. Loved and touched and pampered. Do not be shy, do not be embarrassed. There's no need. You are beautiful. So beautiful...”

Her voice lulled you, made you relax into her ministrations, and as she finished her soothing pep talk, her fingers dipped between your labia, a little gasp escaped you, your lips parting, and before you knew it, she had caught it by pressing her mouth to yours, kissing you softly as she rubbed her fingertip slowly up and down until it prodded your entrance, and while her tongue pushed into your mouth, her digit pushed into your clenching cunt.

Your moan was swallowed by her own little inhale. Her other hand slid up your back until her palm was pressed to your neck, holding you steady as she continued to kiss and finger you, and all you could do was melt into her caresses, meeting her tongue with your own, gliding your lips against hers, even grinding your hips into her hand. Your head was spinning, breathless and overwhelmed as you were, and the more she touched you, the less vulnerable you felt.

The way she moved her fingers (she seemed to have added another one) inside you, slow and careful, pressing as deep as her knuckles allowed, fingernails scraping gently along your tight walls, it all felt very good very quickly. Your eyes fluttered shut, your breaths rasping out of you, new air barely able to reach your lungs as she kept plunging her tongue into your mouth. You felt like floating, surrounded by warm water and even warmer steam, pressed against a soft body, her hand closing around your nape, and all those touches sent more tingles down your spine, shivers and shudders, that all gathered low in your stomach, and lower, making your clit throb.

And it was when she suddenly pressed her thumb against that sensitive bundle of nerves that you yelped against her mouth, eyes flying open, a strange assortment of white and black spots dancing at the edge of your vision. Your legs trembled badly the more she rubbed at your clit, her fingers still plunging in and out, a little curl to them now, hitting different spots deep inside you. You stared at her, or tried to, she looked blurry, and you tried to blink your eyes back into focus, but instead a loud moan was ripped from your throat when she moved her fingers and her thumb in a clawing motion, pressing directly against your clit and g-spot.

You shook, your limbs twitching, and your hands found her waist for support as you gasped for air like a fish out of water, your eyes rolling back, your head reeling, and for a moment you felt as if you'd left your own body, floating away, without a care in the world...

You came back when she pulled her fingers out and kept caressing your sensitive labia, and every brush against your hood gave you another deep shudder. You clung to her, your forehead resting on her shoulder, your breaths labored and raw, your heart thundering in your chest. She rubbed your back with her free hand, soothing you with words you couldn't understand. The first that did make it through the cotton in your head, dug themselves deep into your soul:

“Good girl.”

A smile appeared on your trembling lips, the praise like an additional caress down your spine. You found yourself hugging the woman you barely knew and somehow trusted a lot more now, your arms snaking around her waist as you pressed yourself into her. She embraced you gently, holding you as the water sprayed against your shoulder. You felt her lips on your forehead, her exhale warm against your skin.

The rest of the shower was a blur. She kept washing you, rubbing her hands over your warm skin, and she even nudged you to touch her as well, which was yet another overwhelming experience as you weighed her big breasts in your small hands.

She continued to be gentle and patient with you, giving you time when you needed it, but also pushed you a little to get you out of your old habits. As embarrassing as it should have been, it was also refreshing and comforting to know that even if you might fall back into your dark hole whenever new and old doubts would resurface, Mommy was there to pull you back out.

By the time you were out of the shower and wrapped in a large, fluffy towel, a knock sounded on the door. You froze, but the other woman just huffed a sigh and walked to open it, still as naked as before, no shame whatsoever. Your eyes widened when you saw the tall man appearing in the door frame, his eyes first grazing the woman before they wandered to you. He smiled softly.

“Good morning,” Daddy said, his smile widening when he saw you blushing deeply, pulling the towel tighter around your body. He looked back at Mommy then, raising an eyebrow. “You beat me to it, huh?” he mused.

The woman laughed, nudging his bearded chin with her index finger. “Gotta be faster, old man,” she teased with a soft laugh.

You watched the two silently, frozen to the spot, acutely aware of just wearing a towel, your exposed skin warming up badly as your eyes wandered from Mommy's naked backside to Daddy's tall frame behind her. He wasn't wearing a suit today, but a tight shirt and formfitting sweatpants, and his hair was tousled, cheeks a little flushed. Had he been running? Probably, with a body like that –

“How are you feeling today, darling?” he addressed you, ripping you from your thoughts. Your face heated up even more.

“Really good,” you whispered shyly, chewing on your bottom lip as you met his gaze.

“I'm glad,” he replied, tilting his head slightly, his eyes crinkling.

“And she'll feel even better today. I'm taking her to the salon,” Mommy interrupted the moment by pressing a hand to Daddy's chest. “You can have her tomorrow.”

He sighed, bringing his gaze back to the woman in front of him. “Don't do anything she doesn't want to do, okay?” he told her quietly. “Don't scare her away on her first day...”

She laughed, turning back to you. Your heart skipped a beat. “Don't worry, we already established our bond, didn't we, honey?”

You lowered your eyes, your blush spreading all over your shoulders. “Yes, Mommy,” you whispered. It still felt a little weird to call her that, but seeing her reaction to it made up for the awkwardness. She mewled softly and turned around fully, extending her arms until she could pull you into a tight hug.

“My sweet girl,” she cooed, kissing your hairline. You leaned against her warm body, meeting Daddy's curious gaze over her shoulder.

“You'll be okay,” he told you with a gentle smile. “But remember: you can say no, we will not force you to do anything you don't feel comfortable with. Won't we?” he added pointedly, making Mommy turn her head to him. She gave him a smirk and a wink, and he sighed.

She let go of you then, taking a step back to him. “Go take your own shower now,” she told him, poking his chest. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her a little closer, eyeing her darkly.

“Don't tell me what to do,” he whispered.

“Make me,” she replied with a chuckle.

You watched them with growing curiosity, still wondering what kind of relationship these two actually had. For a moment they just stared at each other, before Mommy leaned up on her toes and pressed her full lips against his.

“Let us have our Girls Day, okay, papito?”

“Fine,” he said with an exhale, his other hand moving along her bare shoulders up to her nape before he grabbed the messy bun on top of her head and pulled her back a little. “But I mean it: I still want to recognize her later.”

Her turn to sigh. “Of course, don't worry,” she replied, putting her hand on his cheek, giving it a soft pat. “Unless she wants a complete makeover. This is about her,” she added, turning her head back to you. “Isn't it, sweet thing?”

You blushed when the attention was back on you.

“We'll do whatever makes you happy, okay, honey?”

“Okay,” you mouthed a little breathlessly. Your eyes wandered between the two adults (the longer you stood watching them, the smaller and younger you felt, no matter the fact that you were technically an adult yourself). You weren't used to all this attention, but it grew on you. It made you feel warm and seen (even if you'd prefer to wear more clothes while being looked at).

Daddy let go of Mommy then, taking a half-step into the bathroom. “Can I get a hug before I leave you in Mommy's care, sweetheart?” he asked quietly, extending a hand towards you.

Your body's immediate reaction was a sudden jerk, a clear indication that you wanted to sink into his strong arms and never emerge from them again, but your mind was still a little timid, and then there was Mommy, stepping between you and the tall man.

“Get away, you're all gross and sweaty. I just cleaned her!” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

He lowered his hand slowly, his eyes still on you. There was a darkness within them, a strange look that made your stomach twist in a weird way, warm and tense, like a throb, a clench, an itch. “I... I don't mind,” you heard yourself stammering. Before you knew it, you took a step forward, your bare feet padding on the tiles, and when his smile widened, you extended a hand to put it onto his big palm. At the same time as he pulled you closer, you heard Mommy sighing. She stepped away, and you hoped she wouldn't be too mad, but you couldn't resist him – and the urge growing inside your own body.

He wrapped his big arms around your shoulders, and you found yourself pressed to his chest. It was warm, his scent filling your nostrils, filling your head, a mixture of body wash and sweat, a masculine smell that made you dizzy, but in a good way. You carefully snaked your arms around his waist and held onto him, closing your eyes for a moment.

“My sweet girl,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “Have a good time today, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” you murmured into him.

He squeezed you a little more at that, his inhale loud and almost surprised. As he embraced you, you suddenly felt another presence behind you. Mommy's arms joined yours in encircling the tall man as she pressed herself into you. His arms loosened, leaving you, pulling her closer against your back. You gasped a little as they hugged you tightly, and you would have never expected to feel this comfortable in a Mommy-and-Daddy-sandwich.

It was certainly strange to go from nobody caring about you, to having these two people taking such an interest in you. And they weren't lying. They had a lot of love and care to give, you could feel it in the way they held you and spoke to you. And you'd only met them yesterday! How was this possible?

But you didn't want to question it, you just wanted to melt into their warmth and strength, enjoy the moment, neither look back nor ahead. It felt good. Good enough to bring tears into your eyes. A little sob escaped you, and you buried your face firmer into Daddy's chest. Mommy let go first, and before you knew it, Daddy's hands were on your shoulders, leaning you back a little.

Looking up, you realized your vision was blurry. As you tried to blink your eyes into focus, you felt his fingers wiping at your wet cheeks, a concerned look on his handsome face.

“I... I'm fine,” you murmured quickly, sniffling quietly. “These are... happy tears...”

His relieved exhale hit your forehead before he leaned in and pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth. Meeting his gaze, you couldn't help it, you turned your head a little bit and used his closeness to brush your lips fully against his. His hands held you still for a moment, the kiss, if you could call it that, a lingering press, before he leaned back with a deep sigh.

“Sorry, darling, today's Mommy's day,” he whispered, giving you a wink. “We can expand on this tomorrow, okay?” As his fingers curled around your ear, his thumb rubbed over your bottom lip. “Trust me, I can't wait...”

You gave him a shy smile, your face properly burning now. He eventually let go of you fully and stepped back. Mommy put her hands on your shoulders. “See you later, Daddy,” she cooed.

“Bye, ladies, have fun,” he said with a little wave, his eyes fixed on you.

“Bye, Daddy,” you whispered, watching how his eyes sparkled when he winked at you, before he turned around and left the room.

You were still buzzing, basically floating, so when Mommy told you to wash your face and brush your teeth and use the toilet, you did as she told you, ignoring how degrading this should have felt, being told to do the most basic things, things a person your age should be able to do on her own. But it also felt good, having someone push you to do so, and she didn't sound condescending or mocking, but caring and sweet now that you were alone again.

Once you were all ready for the day, you stood, still in your towel, in the middle of the room (your room) while she pulled out various clothes, watching you as she did so, assessing your build and size, and in the end she chose a pair of pink panties for you and a matching bra that was a little loose but she assured you to buy better fitting things for you soon. You wondered then who all those clothes belonged to, they looked too girly to have been hers, and the wide array of different sizes also made you curious.

She looked at you as she held a knee-length pink dress to your chest. “We bought these for our old subs,” she said nonchalantly as if reading your mind. “I told you we've been looking for the right girl for a while. And we tried, tested a few, but none of them would really fit our needs, you know? You, however,” she added, putting the dress down to place her hands on your shoulders as she looked down at you with a soft smile, “you are what we're looking for. I can already tell. You belong here, and soon we'll fill this closet with your own things, and only yours, okay?”

You stared at her, your throat tight. Knowing that other girls had spent their time in this room, with these people, with your Mommy and Daddy, made you feel strangely small and insignificant. Like one of many. And you wondered when they would realize that you might not fit their needs either so they could move to the next girl. But you still hoped beyond hope that what she said was true. “So... so you won't... send me away again?”

“Oh, sweet thing, of course not, unless you want to leave, but I really hope you'll stay with us. We can give you anything you need, and you'd make us so happy too!” She pulled you against her bare chest (she still hadn't bothered putting on any clothes and you really envied her confidence), her arms tight around your shoulders as you gingerly hugged her back, feeling the soft slope of her spine under your clammy palms.

She kissed your forehead and let go again, smiling down at you. You felt the need to reassure her. “I'll... stay, I want to stay,” you whispered, biting your lip as a little smile played around the corner of your mouth.

Her hands found your face. “I'm glad,” she breathed, her lips brushing against yours, and then she really kissed you, a hard press, a confident lick against the seam of your mouth before you indulged her and kissed her back, timidly moving your tongue and lips against hers. “You taste so sweet,” she muttered, sighing deeply as she moved her lips down your jaw to your neck, giving your pulse a little suck that made you flinch a little. “I can't wait to taste more of you...”

Her words sent another deep shudder down your spine that ultimately gathered right in your throbbing clit. You had no idea what it was about this woman, about this whole situation, but anything she did to you, any touch, any word, made you feel like you never felt before. It was all warm and cozy, but it could turn hot and overwhelming in the blink of an eye. You slipped from feeling comfortable to completely aroused, back and forth, and it should be weird, but it wasn't. It felt right.

Mommy gave you another press of her lips to your neck before she leaned away, letting go of you to pick up the pink dress. “Alright, let's get ready for our Girls Day, shall we?” she said happily, shoving the dress into your hands. “Get dressed, I'll do the same, and I'll meet you here soon, okay?”

“Yes, Mommy,” you whispered, enduring/savoring another tight hug and a squeal from her, before she did what she told you and left the room, as naked as she was, her hips swaying as she went.

Later, you sat next to her in the back of the car again. She had put on a dark blue blouse and wide-legged pants, the pointy tips of her high heels poking out from the wide hem as she crossed her legs and leaned back into her seat, her hand on your thigh as she smiled at you. You smiled back shyly, feeling rather small next to her, in your soft pink dress, your magenta tights and those white little sneakers she gave you.

You had never cared much about being girly or wearing bright colors before, but it felt okay when somebody else told you to do so. The way she looked at you, so proud and happy, made it all worth it, even if you didn't quite feel like yourself anymore. But that was the point of this, wasn't it? To get you out of your old habits and show you something new, a new side of yourself. It could only get better from here, right?

Well.

Before it got better, it got a lot worse when you found yourself in a small room with a woman telling you to strip for her. Mommy was there too, but the stranger made you feel very uncomfortable. You were in one of those beauty salons you'd never seen the inside of. The woman seemed nice enough, or rather passive more likely, because it was her job to groom and take care of other people and she probably saw many different kinds of women each day, but you couldn't shake the feeling of a deep-rooted shame as you pulled your dress over your head, exposing yourself, feeling vulnerable and embarrassed and very insecure to show this stranger your neglected body.

Mommy helped you, her eager hands pulling down your tights (and panties) in one swift move, and you gasped and squirmed, trying to cover yourself, but she shushed you quietly. “It's okay, no need to be shy. I'm right here, you can do this.” You inhaled sharply, trying to focus on her as you stepped out of your tights, watching her put your clothes onto a nearby chair before she snaked her hands around your torso and unclasped your bra, adding it to the pile.

“Sit down please,” the other woman told you. When you looked at her, you noticed her almost bored looking gaze, as if she indeed did this several times a day. Nevertheless, you didn't, never had done this before, and when you scooted up on the reclined chair covered in a soft towel, you felt close to tears.

Clamping your thighs together, you put your hands on your breasts (wondering why you had to expose them in the first place when this was about trimming your body hair), when you felt Mommy's hands on yours as she leaned over you from behind. “Relax, baby girl,” she told you, turning her head to kiss your cheek. “Just relax. Lean back, close your eyes, and let the nice lady do her job, okay?”

And you tried. She kept her hands on your chest to ground you, giving your boobs gentle squeezes whenever you flinched or winced or squirmed as the nice lady began working on you. She started on your legs, and while you thought she might shave them as you would have done, she waxed them, and it felt strange when she applied the warm wax, but even worse when she suddenly ripped the sheets she pressed down onto your leg away again, causing you to squeak and almost kick her in the face.

Mommy kept close to you, hugging you, soothing you, her fingers drawing distracting circles around your nipples. You turned your head to her, your face flushed, watching her soft smile, the twinkle in her eyes, and somehow you made it through the torture of having your legs waxed. But then you felt a nudge against your thigh.

Looking back to the woman, you noticed her adding something to the chair you were resting on. Some sort of stirrups, and you realized you'd have to spread your legs and put them on there, because she –

– was about to wax your sex next. Oh dear God.

A whimper escaped you, your thighs pressing even tighter together, and you looked back at Mommy, pleading with her. She shook her head and caressed your cheek. “It's okay, honey, it won't hurt for long.” But it will hurt, you wanted to tell her, your eyes widening. “You're a big girl, aren't you? You can take it.”

And somehow her well-meant words made you feel even worse. Shame flooded your entire body, your blush spreading down to your chest. Your legs were still burning and irritated, the skin tight, and to imagine the same procedure between your thighs? But being treated like a little girl in front of this stranger gave you a weird boost of confidence, reverse-psychology-style. Because you were not a little girl, you were a grown ass woman, you should be able to deal with this! Clenching your jaw, you inhaled deeply, looking up at the ceiling as you lifted your legs and put them into the contraptions of the chair.

You forced yourself to ignore the cold breeze against your pussy lips, the way the woman stepped closer, the way her gloved fingers applied the wax over the coarse hairs of your mound. Your own hands clamped down on the edge of the seat, your breaths labored as you waited for the inevitable pain to shoot through your body. But when it came, you still jerked, a scream escaping your tight throat that was quickly silenced as you felt Mommy's hands on your face, making you look at her.

You felt tears burning in your eyes, the throbbing pain between your legs only part of the sudden waterworks. Her gaze was stern and hard, and you couldn't look away. You kept chewing on your bottom lip, wondering if you'd disappointed her by being so squeamish about this. If she'd change her mind about you being the perfect one. As the first tear rolled down your cheek, her gaze softened, her thumb tracing the path it took to your jaw.

She leaned in then, pressing her lips against your forehead, while another jolt of pain ripped through you as more of your hair was pulled out. You flinched, but you also forced yourself not to scream again. You did bite your tongue and tasted blood, but you didn't want to show her how much you suffered. She had brought you here, probably spent quite a sum to give you this treatment (and you were in dire need of it too, even if you couldn't really handle the pain and shame it brought with it), and you knew you should be grateful. And you were, you would be, afterwards, when the pain was gone and your skin smooth again, but right now all you could do was cry quietly and endure.

You felt dizzy by the end of it, barely able to move your limbs. So you let the woman arrange you how she needed you, noticing that Mommy had shifted behind the chair, looking down at you, holding your hands above your head as your arms were being lifted, more wax came down and more pain throbbed through you, your armpits burning like they'd never done before. Through bleary eyes you watched her, squeezing her hands back, feeling lightheaded and disoriented.

And then it was over, finally. Someone pulled you off the chair and onto trembling legs, Mommy helped you get dressed again. Your skin was warm and tight, but as smooth as it had ever been. The shame of the procedure was just a little flame in the back of your mind now, somehow you felt too numb to care anymore.

Once you were in your tights and dress again, you were guided into another room, onto another chair, and while Mommy sat down on a stool next to you, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly, you felt a new pair of hands on your head, fingers loosening the messy bun on top before slipping through the wild strands. You inhaled deeply and leaned into the chair, letting them do their thing. It hurt when they brushed through the unruly mess that was your hair, it hurt when they plugged your eyebrows into shape, it hurt and stung and the shame flared up from time to time, but you tried to focus on Mommy and her beautiful face, as she watched you closely, never not paying attention to you.

That might have been the weirdest thing. The way she always watched you, so attentively. Nobody had ever looked at you like this, not even your own mother, who had always been busy with other things, your siblings, one of her husbands, her phone, the TV, anything else, while you tried to tell her about that drawing you made in preschool that day. You remember that you eventually gave up telling her anything, and the older you got, the more you distanced yourself from her, because it wasn't worth it anymore. She just didn't seem to care, and she did a very bad job at hiding it also.

But this woman, the one you met yesterday, looked at you with so much care in her pretty eyes, held your hand between hers, warm and gentle but firm, showing you she was there. She cared, she barely knew you, but she cared, and it brought another tear into your eye that you quickly wiped with your free hand, before giving her a brave smile as your head was jerked back a little again. And because she cared, you cared too, you wanted to show her that you were indeed a big girl, that this didn't hurt, that it wasn't uncomfortable, that you could endure.

This was for your own good anyway (even if it felt like torture). She was trying to make you your own person again, bring you back into the world that had spat you out so ruthlessly.

Eventually, you relaxed into whatever was happening around you. Your eyes fluttered closed, your hand gave hers the occasional squeeze, and you just lay there, thinking about your new life, thinking back to the tall man waiting his turn back home (your home... what a twist), and you wondered how he would spend the day with you. Would he do Dad-things with you? Take you to some sports event? Watch TV with you? Go fishing, maybe? You realized you had no idea what a father would even do with his kid, because neither your biological father nor any of your various step-fathers had ever shown any interest in you.

Then again, maybe you shouldn't focus on the Dad-things, but the Daddy-things. Because quite frankly, you didn't want this man to be your father, you wanted him to be there for you, hold you and kiss you, be something more to you, you wanted to sit on his lap again, lean against him, feel his warmth and strength, and his hands all over you...

A little gasp escaped you as you felt your core clenching around nothing, a little throb, then a little drip into your underwear. It had been a long while since you were attracted to anyone in any way, and somehow, after just a few moments with that man you knew practically nothing about, you felt your heart beating faster just thinking about him. But when you opened your eyes, coming back from your mind to notice the woman still holding your hand, you realized it wasn't just him.

You also liked her, the way she touched you, kissed you, how confident she was, how she made you feel both small and comfortable at the same time. You had never questioned your sexuality, never really considered yourself one or the other or anything else for that matter (you had a boyfriend in high school, and girlfriends you'd play around with, but it was never as intense and eye-opening as whatever you were experiencing right now).

It was all new and exciting, and knowing you had the attention of a beautiful woman and a handsome man was just mind-boggling to you. It felt like a dream, and not even the throbbing pain still coursing through your body seemed to be able to wake you up from it.

At the end of it all, you sat in the car again, next to Mommy, who still held your hand. After getting a new haircut (only a little trim), she'd taken you to the nail salon, and together you chose a subtle pink for your nails. They remained short and natural, but it felt so much better knowing they added to the overall transformation of your once neglected body. You did feel like a new person, a new girl, a young woman, ready to begin a new chapter of her life.

The trunk of the car was full of bags, filled with dresses and skirts, blouses and shirts, sweaters and cardigans, socks and tights and a variety of shoes, all of it girly, elegant, but also comfortable and chic, a whole closet full of things that only fit you. Buying underwear was another ordeal with Mommy, but in the end she found you beautiful pieces, ranging from cute and modest to really extravagant and barely covering anything.

And you felt good seeing yourself in them, confident despite all those areas you didn't particularly like – because apparently there was underwear that didn't have to be too loose or too tight, like the ones you'd bought before, the cheap ones. These new ones hugged your body like a second skin, accentuated the good parts and hid the bad ones, making you feel so much better about yourself.

During your shopping trip, Mommy bought you lunch and later a milkshake, walking with her hand around yours. While she did most of the talking, small talk mostly that you appreciated very much, you felt more and more at ease with her. Yesterday she'd been a stranger, and now, she was your Mommy, someone who took care of you, who laughed with you, who made you feel comfortable.

When the car returned to the mansion, the adventures of the day weighed you down more than you thought. You were tired, still a little sore from the waxing, but overall you were happier than you'd been in ages. Mommy helped you out of the car and pulled you towards the entrance door, while the driver started carrying all those bags into the house. In the kitchen, you were met by a delicious smell, and a large frame that made your heart beat faster.

“You've returned,” Daddy greeted you (looking so incredibly handsome in a white button-up with the sleeves rolled up over his strong forearms), putting down a dish towel before he approached you. Mommy let go of your hand and gave you a gentle nudge that you didn't really need, because in the next second you had fallen against the tall man's chest, your arms tight around his waist. “Aww, did you miss Daddy, baby girl?” he cooed, embracing you just as tightly.

You mumbled your confirmation against him, closing your eyes as you just leaned into him, no longer wondering why it felt so easy to be this close to these people. It just felt right. The way they looked at you, treated you, paid attention to you, all the trouble they went through for you. It was special, and you embraced it by embracing them, knowing how easy it was to please them with just a few words and a few simple displays of affection.

Eventually, he leaned you back by holding your shoulders, his eyes wandering over your flushed face and your bouncy new hair. His fingers stroked along your tresses, twirling the ends playfully. “Looks really good on you,” he told you, and you smiled shyly. “You're even more beautiful now, sweet girl,” he added quietly as he bent down to press his lips against your cheek.

You squirmed away with a soft giggle when he nuzzled your jaw, his hands roaming down your body to tease at your ribs. You fell into a full-on laughing fit when he continued tickling you, digging his fingers into your sides, while his teeth grazed along your pulse, your own hands grasping helplessly at his forearms.

“What a sweet sound,” he breathed against you before he stopped and grabbed your waist, lifting you effortlessly until his arms rested just beneath your rear, holding you up. You put your hands on his shoulders, looking down at him with your cheeks aflame and tears burning in your eyes, still smiling at him. “My sweet little pumpkin.”

You scrunched your nose at the nickname, making him grin even wider at you.

“Can I call you pumpkin, sweet girl?” he asked quietly, shifting you on his arms.

You considered it, wondering how he even got to calling you that, but then couldn't find a reason for him not to call you so. It did sound rather nice. “You can call me anything you want, Daddy,” you whispered breathlessly, your heart beating even faster.

“Yeah?”

You nodded, biting your lip. He turned you both around then and sat you down on the counter, leaning on his arms as he caged you in. His face was inches away from yours, his hot breath ghosting your lips. You watched him with growing anticipation, that tension in your stomach intensifying with every rapid heartbeat. He leaned closer, his nose brushing against yours, his eyes boring into your own, so intense, so hungry, and he tilted his head, your lips parted in preparation –

“So what's for dinner?” cut Mommy's voice through your special moment.

Daddy closed his eyes and leaned back slowly, exhaling loudly. You watched him, still holding your breath, your hands curled tight around the edge of the counter, your knees pressed together so hard your legs were trembling. He brushed his hands over your thighs, fingers teasing between them only for a second before he was gone, stepping away to the other side of the kitchen island, while Mommy took his place in front of you.

You saw them exchanging a long gaze, something dark glinting in Mommy's eyes. Her hands found your knees, and without looking at you, she forced them apart with a strength you hadn't expected from her. Gasping softly, you stared at her, and when her hands disappeared under the skirt of your dress, you stiffened. She looked back at you then, her eyes as intense as Daddy's had been.

“Girls Day isn't over yet, sweetheart,” she whispered, tilting her head before she leaned closer, brushing her full lips against yours. Her fingers moved around your rear before they slipped under the waistband of your tights. Your heart skipped several beats as she started pulling them down, and you squirmed on the counter, struggling between allowing her the motion and fighting it.

“You should give her a break,” sounded Daddy's voice from behind her, and when you looked past her as she lowered her head with a deep sigh, you saw concern and something else in his dark eyes.

“Don't tell me what to do,” Mommy whispered quietly, slowly turning around enough to look at him. Her hands were still halfway down your tights, her body wedged between your spread legs.

He stared at her, narrowing his eyes. “It's her first day, babe,” he said, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

She gritted her teeth, looking away until her suddenly cold eyes found yours. Your breath hitched in your throat. “But Mommy's hungry,” she muttered, licking her upper lip. You swallowed thickly, watching the exchange with bated breath, not quite understanding what was going on.

“Have dinner then,” he replied from behind her. “Greta made ravioli.”

Slowly, she slipped her hands from inside your tights and grabbed the waistband, shifting you back into them with a jerk. You gasped softly, scooting back on the counter. Then she gripped your chin and made you look at her. “Fine,” she said quietly. “Let's have dinner. I'll have you for dessert then, hm, sweet cheeks?”

She pulled you closer to her and smashed her lips against yours, inhaling deeply before leaning back again, letting go of you abruptly and stepping away, her heels clicking over the hardwood floor. And you sat there, on the counter, with your lips parted and trembling, confusion washing over you as you followed her with wide eyes.

Daddy extended a hand to you and, once you grabbed it hesitantly, helped you off the counter. Still holding your hand, he bent down to whisper softly: “Don't mind her, she gets cranky when she's hungry.” He winked at you then, squeezing your fingers.

You blinked up at him in even bigger confusion, but eventually you let it slide and let him pull you through the kitchen and into the dining room.

“By the way, I haven't asked before, so I told our chef to make something vegan. Do you eat meat, pumpkin? Do you have any allergies?” Daddy asked quietly as he pulled out a chair and motioned you to sit down.

“I, uh, I do, eat meat, I mean. And no allergies I know of,” you replied with a stammer, your legs still shaking a little.

“Good, that's perfect,” he mused and walked around you, sitting down at the head of the long table, while Mommy sat across from you, studying her nails.

Between you was a large plate covered by one of those fancy metal hoods, and when Daddy lifted it, a heavenly smell distracted you from the strange tension around you. There were three different types of handmade ravioli, big ones, not those tiny ones you'd eat straight out of the can, they looked so fancy and professional and delicious of all things, and when you listened to his explanation of which was which, you couldn't decide which one to choose, so you took one of each, earning you a little laugh from Daddy.

“That's a good appetite,” he praised, taking one for himself before he held out the prongs to Mommy. She turned her head to him, her eyes narrowed, and when she closed her fingers around his, you could see her knuckles blanching.

“Shopping makes hungry, you know?” she said pointedly, snatching the prongs out of his grip to put two ravioli onto her own plate.

He just sighed and lifted his fork. “Well, dig in, and again, welcome to your new home, pumpkin,” he added with a nod towards you.

You smiled shyly, nodding back. “Thank you,” you mumbled timidly, before you inhaled deeply, looking over the table to Mommy who seemed to poke at her food with quite the disinterest. “Really, thank you for everything, Mommy,” you said a little louder. “I had a great time today.”

She looked up then, her hard gaze softening immediately. Her hand reached across the table to brush against yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Me too, cariño,” she whispered, a small smile grazing her lips.

Seeing her relax again made your heart beat a little faster.

“Aren't you two the sweetest,” Daddy mused, his fork halfway up to his mouth. “Eat up now before it gets cold.”

Mommy pulled her hand away and focused back on her plate, ignoring Daddy's comment. You looked at him, feeling your cheeks burning up when he gave you another wink, before you turned back to your food as well.

Your mind was reeling from all the impressions of this single day. It was still something of a blur, a dreamlike experience, and occasionally a few doubts would poke through the cotton in your head, making you wonder when you'd wake up again. But you didn't. It seemed real enough. A real dinner, with real food, and real people. People who watched you, who offered you more, who reached out to scrape sauce off your cheek.

It had been twenty-four hours, and yet it felt as if you'd known these people way longer. The way they cared for you made it all so much easier. It was a dream, but a dream come true. And somehow you knew that there was a lot more on the horizon.

Chapter 3 🔷️ Chapter 4 🔷️ Chapter 5

End notes: Probably should have mentioned it earlier, but the whole waxing/makeover scene is only to show how Reader's depression made it impossible for her to take care of herself, it's not to shame anyone choosing to have body hair, because that is of course a choice. Please do not take offense in Mommy's ideals, she just wants to make Reader feel pretty in her own, slightly controlling way (that could be considered a bit dubcon if you squint, but really, Reader just isn't in a state of mind where she knows what she wants yet, so this is all some good-natured nudging).

Thank you for reading! New chapter every Saturday!

Up next: You are back in Daddy's arms, and he has his own special plans for you...

MASTERLIST 🔷️ AO3 🔷️ ORIGINAL WORKS

[cheralith]

characters ; chigiri hyoma || contains ; fem!reader, she/her pronouns, period mention (not towards reader) word count ; 1k

on a good twist on the calm bf x emotional gf trope, chigiri asks you if he's "moody."

you slowly turn your head towards him with a little too tight of a smile and ask him why the sudden question. chigiri frowns and gives a huff, whipping his head away from you. "oh, so you agree?"

you hold back a laugh and touch his arm gently. "no, i'm just wondering why you're asking," you say simply.

your boyfriend sighs and turns back to you, his lips pursed with mild annoyance. leave it to stupid bachira to find dumb trends on tiktok and force everyone to do the "we listen and we don't judge trend" that's been circulating around to shake some tables. some obvious ones were thrown around, but when it got to chigiri's turn, isagi hesitated for a bit before saying,

"well... there was a time that i thought you were a girl that somehow made it to blue lock... and i thought you were really moody because i thought you were on your period or something..."

everyone except for chigiri (and rin, obviously) had burst out into laughter. while he was used to people referring to him in female terms because of his effeminate features, what stood out to him the most was that people had agreed that he was rather the more slightly impertinent of the bunch. he doesn't try to be such, but it's not his fault that sometimes people just annoy him.

he sighs, flopping himself over the kotatsu you and him are under to shield away from the winter air. "some of the guys think i'm a bit of a diva, apparently."

you stay silent, giving another tight-lipped smile while raising your brows. "did they now...?"

"you don't think i'm like that," chigiri faces himself towards you, a slight wrinkle in his brow and a quiet pout on his lips. "... right?"

you open your mouth, trying to think of what to say to comfort him that wouldn't simultaneously lead him into an oblivion that would misguide him. you love your boyfriend very dearly, but even you agreed that he was prone to making some remarks towards those that would strike a nerve to him. you were sometimes victim to his sharp-tongue, though you don't really give it much thought, knowing his unique attitude is what made you so drawn to him in the first place.

"welllll..." you drag as your eyes pull themselves away from his gaze. you were a terrible liar, but you still try to soften the blow anyways. "sometimes, you can be a little..."

chigiri's stare hardens. his lip juts further out, as if he's testing you.

"... emotional," you finish with a tight throat, your smile still plastered firmly.

a thick swallow passes through your throat, the words you just said a little sour on your tongue. you didn't really like telling him the truth, but lying to him wouldn't really do him any good either. chigiri stares at you for a moment longer, digesting what you said, before his eyes soften.

"you think i'm emotional?"

he asks the question so soft, so sad, it squeezes your heart and a guilt seeps itself within it.

"i..." you start, panic bubbling within you as you try not to break at your boyfriend's woeful face.

chigiri knows that sometimes he can have princess-like antics, since the nickname doesn't just stem from his appearance. he knows he's quick to roll his eyes and mark out another player's fault, but those moments don't matter as much as how he acts with you.

his mind races, trying to think of times in which he's shared the same sentiments with you without meaning to. chigiri cherishes you in a way he's never felt about anyone, so the mere thought of accidentally striking a chord in your heart by his quick wit makes his ego falter a bit. the last thing he'd ever want to do is hurt you and not even know it, since you have a bad habit of suppressing things.

"did i do something to you to make you think that i'm like that?" chigiri asks.

"um," you fiddle with your fingers and look down to distract yourself. "n-nothing that i can recall recently?"

"you're lying," he retorts flatly.

"am not!"

"you and i and literally the entire country of japan know that lying isn't really your strong suit," he says, his eyes rolling. chigiri suddenly slaps a hand over his mouth, realizing he had just done it again without even thinking. "shit, i'm so sorry... i did it again, didn't i?"

"no, no, it's okay," you comfort as you grab his hand in between your own two grasps. your thumbs ease over the back of his in an attempt to soothe him. "i should've been more honest. i won't lie and say you don't have your moments but—hyoma, look at me, please?"

you gently grab your boyfriend's face to make him share your gaze. the disappointment in his eyes is still embedded within the fuchsia pools that you just find yourself swimming in so often, and you want nothing more than to filter it out.

"you just state your mind," you murmur softly. "i don't think that's a bad thing at all. i liked how honest you are, and that's one of the reasons why i was so drawn to you before we started to date. not many people can show that sort of integrity without second-thoughts."

chigiri's eyes widen at your words. his body goes limp when you caress his cheekbones so tenderly as you push away some stray hairs out of his face so you can look at him clearly.

"maybe some people don't like it, but i sure do," you giggle, flashbacking to when he'd gossip with you about bypassers on the street just to make you laugh. "sharp wit is attractive, y'know."

he settles himself in your hold, just letting himself breathe into a moment between you and him. vulnerability is hard to face and it's another thing to face it head-on, but what chigiri loved most about you was to make up for the lack of creating a false guard, you're able to keep things upfront and personal with him when needed. honesty is crucial to him, and he sighs out of relief, giving you a soft kiss on the tip of your nose as a thank you for easing his nerves.

the guilt from earlier now spilling away from within him, your assurance brings him back to a peace chigiri only feels with you.

[adelarsims]

a few wg facts

he knows a shit ton of random encyclopedic facts, and will absolutely use them to guilt trip you, like if you kill a spider he will immediately tell you everything he knows about spiders’ importance for the environment that you apparently just ruined a little

while taking a shower, he has thought out in detail what he will tell mom, if it ever happens that he returns to the past, to prove that he is wolfgang from the future

he pretended to be a girl online for quite some time and oh my god

to middle school prom he brought his extra pair of sneakers for morgan to put on when she gets tired of heels that she was dead set on wearing. his most thoughtful and romantic act i swear

when they aren't fighting, he regularly plays skat with mom and lucas, sometimes gunther and lucas

they have “the swear jar��� where you must put a simoleon from your savings if you say a bad word at home. one time he was angry and said a bad word and mom said “go put a simoleon in the swear jar”. well, he stomped over to it, made direct eye contact with mom, demonstratively threw all money he had (about 20 simoleons) in the jar, and proceeded to say more bad words

[seongwars]

more lads dad!au because dad!zayne and dad!caleb beef would be hilarious. spinoff from this drabble

The thing about heart surgeons was that they spent years in medical school, training relentlessly to save lives. But despite Zayne’s expertise, the one thing he couldn’t mend was his four-year-old daughter’s broken heart.

“Elsa, sweetheart, why are you crying?” he asked, crouching to her level as she hiccuped between sniffles.

“Because Archer doesn’t want to be married to me anymore,” Elsa sobbed, rubbing her fists against her red-rimmed eyes. 

“He said he likes Cece.”

Oh. His heart.

His daughter was barely out of preschool, and she was already experiencing the crushing weight of betrayal. While he remained calm on the outside, Zayne was seething on the inside. How dare this boy break his daughter’s heart? Who did he think he was?

“Archer?” 

“Caleb’s son,” you chimed in from the doorway, setting Elsa’s backpack down on its hook.

Oh. It all made sense now.

There were rumors that Caleb had been Mr. Popular back in high school, then again in college, and even at the academy. The kind of guy who could walk into a room and instantly become the center of attention, effortlessly drawing in mobs of adoring fangirls. His son, apparently, had inherited those same infuriatingly charming qualities.

Zayne clenched his jaw. No one, not even another four-year-old, was going to trample on his baby’s feelings and walk away unscathed. He turned back to Elsa, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek.

“Sweetheart, listen to me,” Zayne said gently, wiping away the last of Elsa’s tears with his thumb. “You don’t need to be married to Archer. You’re the most brilliant, kind, and incredible little girl in the whole world.”

Elsa sniffled. “Really?”

“Absolutely. Now, let me ask you something: does Archer know medical terminology?”

Elsa frowned, thinking hard. “No,” she admitted, shaking her head.

Zayne gasped dramatically. “See? That right there is a red flag, sweetheart. You’re already smarter than him! Do you know how many medical words you know?”

Elsa sniffled again, but a tiny smile started forming. “A lot.”

“That’s right! And what’s the big one you learned last week?”

“Myocardial infarction!”

Zayne’s eyes widened in exaggerated amazement. “That’s incredible! Now, tell me, does Archer know what a myocardial infarction is?”

Your daughter scrunched up her nose, thinking. Then she clapped her hands. “No!”

“Sweetheart, how could you possibly be married to someone who doesn’t even know what that is?”

Elsa giggled, wiping at her damp cheeks.

“What other big words do you know?” Zayne encouraged, leaning in.

She tapped a finger against her chin before her face lit up. “Hippocampus!”

“That’s my girl!” Zayne grinned, nodding approvingly. “Anything else?”

Elsa’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Gluteus maximus!”

She giggled so hard at the meaning of gluteus maximus that she nearly toppled over, but Zayne caught her just in time, lifting her up and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Just minutes ago, she had been devastated over some preschool betrayal, and now she was giggling about medical jargon like the brilliant little girl she was.

It was far better than pining over a boy who didn’t even know what a myocardial infarction was.

☾⋆

“Hey, I saw Zayne today at drop-off, and he was squinting at me the whole time,” Caleb said, pulling Eden out of his high chair.

“Huh. Did he have his glasses on?” his wife asked, refilling Stella’s sippy cup. 

Caleb furrowed his brow. “Now that I think about it…no, he didn’t. Oh! That makes so much sense! I waved at him, like, three times, but he just kept squinting. Poor guy was probably struggling to see without them.”

Cece - Sylus' daughter Eden & Stella - Caleb's twins