#me beginning to get emotional: YEAH!!!! STARS!!!!

[threadbearsweater]

one warm day is all i really need | arthur morgan

When you find yourself taken in by a gang of outlaws, the last thing you expect is to grow sweet on one of them- and have the feelings reciprocated. Arthur Morgan doesn't have time for romantic nonsense, but a few memebers of the gang want to make sure that he gets to indulge in his obvious affection toward you. Tags: 3.9k words, an unlikely romance, meddling gang members (with the purest of intentions, one might suppose); female reader, alcohol use, smoking, emotional smut. A repost from a (regretfully) deactivated blog.

Arthur first notices your eyes on him one evening around the campfire at Shady Belle. He won’t accuse you of staring– Lord knows he’s been known to look at you with the same foolish grin you’re wearing now– but he tips his hat to acknowledge you. The heat in your cheeks is suddenly warmer than what the fire has already provided; your grin only grows until your teeth are showing, and you duck your head into your shoulder to hide. Arthur takes a long swig from his whiskey bottle and grimaces as it goes down. He hasn't had a drop of anything in days, and the burn takes a little while to grow numb to now.

“Think she's sweet on you, Morgan,” Sean says in his Irish lilt, giving Arthur an elbow in the ribs.

“Naw, she's lookin’ at you,” Arthur deflects, though he hopes he's wrong. He thinks he knows.

“She told me last week to keep my eyes on my own work,” Sean continues. “I really don't think it's me she wants, Arthur.”

You turn to whisper something to Sadie, who laughs out loud with her face tilted toward the stars. You dare a glance back at Arthur, who is, in fact, looking at you.

Maybe there's some truth to what Mary Beth told you yesterday.

“Arthur's been awful quiet lately.”

The sun shines through the trees and dapples the table where you're seated with bright spots of pale yellow. It's your third round of dominoes with Mary-Beth, and she's whooping your ass, as usual. You don't know how she does it, but each game you play, you're a little more privy to her prowess.

“You think so? I don't know him as well as you.” You hope it isn't obvious that your heart started beating a little faster at the mention of his name. It leaves you breathless.

“Oh yeah,” Mary-Beth continues. “He's been scratchin’ away in that journal of his a lot more, too.” She leans closer, conspiratorial, her eyes twinkling with the gossip she's about to share. “Karen said he went to town twice last week to have a hot bath. If you knew Arthur like I know Arthur, why…you'd know that's highly out of character for him.”

“But you said he'd been quiet. Is that unusual for him, too?”

She hums and purses her lips. “Well you see, Arthur isn't usually a man of many words on a good day. But it's been real bad lately. He don't even give John a hard time like usual.”

You ponder the dominoes for a moment and then make your move. It doesn't earn you any points, but at least you didn't have to draw. “What do you think the problem is?” you ask, nonchalant as possible.

Mary-Beth smiles. Big and bright and sparkling. “Oh, it's not a problem at all.” She lowers her voice and cups her hand to her mouth. “Arthur's in love.”

You gasp, then giggle behind your hand, and Mary-Beth follows suit. Hosea looks on and shakes his head, so you quiet down, reaching across to grab Mary-Beth's hands. “Who do you think it is?”

Her cheeks are tinted pink, and she looks around to make sure there aren't any ears to hear. Word travels fast around camp if one isn't prudent. “I think it's you.”

A thunderstorm rips through Shady Belle a little over a week later. Your little tent that you share with Sadie is ripped straight off its supports in a terrible gust of wind, and you and the others hightail it inside the house to take cover just as it begins to hail. There's quite a ruckus as everyone huddles inside, windblown and rain-soaked. A few of the men hold up lanterns to illuminate the darkness while you watch the lightning and feel the thunder shake the old bones of the house.

“Everyone just calm down,” Dutch calls, descending the stairs, wearing some ridiculous robe with his arms spread wide. “Are we really gonna let a little old thunderstorm keep us from getting a good night's sleep?”

“Says the man with a bed inside the house,” Arthur bites, rounding the corner from what used to be the kitchen, holding a lantern up high in front of him. “Dutch, you better allow these ladies to take cover in here for tonight, or I'll–”

“Or you'll what, Mister Morgan? Pray tell, what kind of man do you take me for?” Dutch's eyes are fiery as he stares Arthur down; a display of dominance. A veritable cockfight.

Arthur's jaw twitches, but he doesn't back down. “The kind of man I should hope would have some goddamn respect for his family.”

There's a tense moment or two where everyone is quiet, then Dutch relents. “Fine, fine! But I expect everyone out there pitching in to clean up in the morning.” He points at Arthur and raises his voice again. “That includes the other man with a bed inside the house,” he sneers.

Arthur shakes his head, then looks away only to catch sight of you, shivering in your wet undergarments, huddled close to Mary-Beth for what little warmth the two of you can share. For a minute, he forgets to breathe, then composes himself enough to cross the room.

“Come on in here. Get yourself warm and dry by the fire.” His hand on your elbow is rough but warm as he leads you toward the fireplace. You nod and look back at Mary-Beth, who shoos you away with a flick of her wrist and a wink; you notice that her teeth are chattering. Despite the humidity that hangs heavy in the air, the temperature has turned chilly with the storm.

Arms crossed over your bosom to preserve any shred of modesty you might have left, you allow yourself to be led away by Arthur. Dutch and some of the others head upstairs while Charles and Javier keep watch from the front porch.

“You alright?” Arthur asks. He covers your shoulders with one of his heavy winter coats, and you pull it around you, grateful for the weight and warmth of it. Another clap of thunder shakes the house and you jump. Arthur chuckles.

“You laughin’ at me?” you quip, placing your palms flat in the direction of the fireplace. You don't even bother to hide the grin you feel curling on your lips.

“No madam, I am not,” Arthur says earnestly, taking a seat beside you on the old wooden crate he's set up as a makeshift bench.

“Then just what do you find so funny, Mister Morgan?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking into the flames. “Aw, I dunno. I'm sorry. It's just that you're…”

You bump him with your hip, unable to stop the giggles that bubble up from your chest. “I'm what?” you pry.

There's a clatter of something falling on the front porch, and Arthur uses it as a good excuse to get out of this hole he's dug for himself. “I better go see what's going on out there. Charles might need my help.”

“I'm what, Arthur?!” you call, to no avail. He's gone before he can see the proverbial hearts in your eyes.

The saloon in Rhodes is a little nicer than the ones you visited in Valentine, though it's a far cry from the ones you used to frequent in Saint Denis. Still, when Sadie and the other girls decide that it's high time you have a little fun in town, you throw on your best dress and let Karen curl your hair and even apply a little of the makeup you snagged from a homestead up north. For the first time in months, you feel like a proper woman. There isn't time to be melancholy about the past, though, when the boys start whistling and cat-calling upon the sight of you and the other girls.

“Aw, knock it off!” Sadie hollers. She's decided to dress up a little tonight, too, much to everyone's surprise. But she hikes up her skirts to hop into the wagon, calling for the rest of you all to hurry it up. “I've got a bottle of rum with my name on it that's waiting for me to come drink her all down!”

You catch the sunset on the way to town. It's dazzling over the meadows, all golden light and warm, blazing oranges and reds that settle into a brilliant pink by the time your reach the main road into Rhodes. You wish you could see Arthur's eyes, but he's got a handle on the reins next to Charles in the front of the wagon. You've seen him watching the sunset before; he always looks so peaceful those evenings at camp, and you often wonder what he thinks about in those few minutes before the horizon is painted in pastel hues.

Karen starts singing a song that everyone eventually joins, and before you know it, you're pulling up in front of the Rhodes Parlour House. You can already hear the piano and a few voices from outside; the sound of it stirs something in your soul that makes you long for the familiarity of home, but you quickly shove it aside in favor of the company of your new family.

“Madam.” Arthur's voice brings you out of your thoughts and back into the present, where he waits at the back of the wagon with his hand extended to you. You beam at him, and he feels dizzy. And when your soft hand fits into his, he straightens his knees so they don't buckle and betray him.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirts to step out onto the dirt road.

Arthur leans in, dangerously close to your ear. You can smell the whisky and cigarettes on his breath, along with the faint tang of gunpowder and hair pomade. “You sure do look nice in that dress.”

You demure and fan yourself with your hand. “Just how much have you had to drink already tonight?” you giggle.

“Ahh, just a little nip to take the edge off.”

“Mm-hm. Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say.”

The night starts off relatively calm, as most nights do. You and the other girls find an empty table to sit and pick up on the town gossip, and the men start a hand of poker. It grows loud and crowded sometime around midnight, and it's hard to have a conversation without shouting over the din of voices, the clink of glass bottles, and the slow drag ragtime music from the piano. The ambiance is charming and lighthearted, and there are even a few couples drunkenly dancing on the porch.

You push back in your chair and find that when you stand, you're a little more wobbly than you thought you would be. The alcohol has loosened you more than you realize, and you grip the table for support until you feel a firm arm around your waist. “Whoa there.”

It's Arthur, who has won the last round of poker and has come to check in on you and the other ladies. You're pulled tight against his chest for one fleeting moment, and you look up into his eyes. He, too, seems drunk, with his eyes gleaming and drooping at the corners, his smile easy and his cheeks flushed.

“My knight in shining armor,” you slur, pretending to faint in his embrace. He only pulls you tighter against him, both of his broad hands splayed across your back. You laugh, and he smiles.

“You weren't getting another drink, were ya?” he questions with a raise of his brow.

“‘m thirsty,” you whine, lifting your empty glass entirely too close to his face. It knocks against his nose, which sends you into another fit of laughter.

Arthur takes your wrist– gentle but firm– and lowers the glass away. “Think you need to drink something that's not whiskey,” he drawls. You can't help but watch the way his lips form around the words; the slip of his tongue between his teeth, the way his mouth turns up into the hint of a smile when you pout. Before you can think too long and hard about it, you lunge forward and kiss him. Hard and clumsy and impulsive. You don't give him time to react. You're far too involved in the kiss to notice, but the girls at the table behind you have all gone silent. Arthur slides his hand along the side of your face and presses his fingers upon the nape of your neck, kissing you back like he really means it. (He really does.)

You pull back suddenly, breathless and reeling, swiping the back of your hand over your mouth. You're still held firm in his embrace, but the playfulness in his gaze has been replaced with an intensity that makes your knees weak all over again.

“What'd ya do that for?” he asks.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you started it.”

“And you finished it.”

“Oh, I ain't finished with you, yet.”

“That a promise or a threat?” Your pulse is thumping wildly in your ears.

“Ya know, they got rooms upstairs for that!” Sadie shouts. There's a ripple of laughter across the table. Arthur's hand on your cheek feels like a brand, his arm about your waist an anchor. The rest of the room comes back to you in a woozy blur, and you look around, a little lovestruck and a whole lot drunk. Arthur's lips at your temple make your eyes flutter shut, and the room fades to black as tIt'weight of you slumps against him. He staggers only slightly, but holds you firm, chuckling softly.

“It's a promise,” he whispers.

You come to some hours later. Your mouth is dry as the desert, your head feels like lead, your skin broken out in a cold, uncomfortable sweat. At some point, it seems you were covered with a downy soft blanket, and the pillow at your head is much more fluffy than the makeshift one you made out of a bedroll at camp. At first, you think you're dreaming. Then, you wonder very briefly if you're back at your childhood home in Saint Denis. You almost call out to your mother when you hear a soft snore from the other side of your bed.

The room spins when you turn your head, and you rub your eyes until Arthur comes into focus. He's sprawled in an armchair a few feet away. His arms are crossed over his chest while his chin is tucked into his chest. Off to the side, you spy his boots; his big toe pokes through a hole in his sock and you smile at how vulnerable he looks.

“Arthur,” you whisper, shifting slightly as you pull the blanket up around your chin.

He grunts and lifts his head slowly. He frowns a little at first, but when he focuses on you lying there, so close he could reach out and kiss you again like he did last night, there's a slow, easy smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey there, party girl. You feeling alright?”

You could kick yourself for all the giggling you've done around him lately, but you can't help it. He brings out something giddy and downright foolish inside you, so you toss a pillow at him and bury your face in the sheets.

“Aw, come on now. I'm just messin’ with ya.” He leans forward and rubs your head affectionately. “I'd say you were feeling pretty good last night.”

It's in that moment a white-hot jolt of sheer panic shoots down your spine. Quickly, you check to make sure you're still wearing clothes. Aside from your breasts being a little lopsided in the confines of your bodice, you're relieved to find that your dress is still intact and– more importantly– on your body. You dare another peek at Arthur and notice that his shirt is unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and he's discarded his vest somewhere, but he, too, is fully clothed. Thank the good Lord above.

You must've said that last part aloud, because Arthur laughs. “Don't worry, nothing happened. Though it weren't for lack of tryin’ on your part,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought I was gonna have to lock you in here like some feral cat till you settled down.”

Oh. Oh Lord. You try to recall what happened that led you to this room, but all that comes to mind is a lot of loud conversation, some dancing, a spilled drink across Sadie's lap, and Arthur's hand on the side of your cheek. “Oh…”

Now you remember it in vivid detail.

“Didn't know you cared for me like that,” he says. It's earnest and tender, a few shades less intense than the kiss you now recall, the one where it felt like he wanted to eat you alive right there in the middle of the saloon. Now, he thumbs your cheek and looks at you so fondly you swear your heart jumps right up in your throat. “I mean, I'd been hoping. Wasn't sure you was looking for a romance.” He huffs a short sigh, frustrated with himself. “Aw, hell, what am I saying? ‘Course you weren't. You're just looking to survive, just like the rest of us, and here I–”

“Shut up,” you say, taking hold of his hand and tugging him closer. He resists until you pull even harder, watching the fire in your eyes blaze to life. “You talk too much, Yankee.”

“I ain't no damn–”

“Kiss me.”

He's over you in an instant; you're pressed flat against the bed, completely and totally at his mercy. This kiss feels different than the drunken one last night. It's sober and honest, if not a little hesitant, as if he's holding himself back from devouring you wholly. The warmth of his body against yours takes your breath away. Or maybe it's the way his tongue laves heavy into your mouth, unashamed of how badly he craves the taste of you. You grip his hair at the roots and tug him down to kiss him harder, lifting your upper body to meet him until he presses down, his chest flush with yours.

Things get heated quickly.

His mouth moves across your cheek, down your neck, and he groans against your skin, rutting his cock against your thigh. You fleetingly wish that he had managed to get you out of that dress before he presumably tucked you into bed and passed out in that chair, because there’s a whole lot of fabric between you and him that really pisses you off right now. Arthur must feel much the same, because he’s bunching your skirts up past your knees while you’re fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to feel him against you, inside you. It’s clumsy and crazed, rushed and rough, but you manage somehow to shuck off every last bit of your clothes and his until you’re breathless and so, so eager beneath him.

“Need you now,” you whine. You feel insane. Dizzy and dehydrated, impossibly turned on, every nerve ending on fire when his callused hands grip the fat of your thighs and open you to him.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?” One of his hands slips between your legs to find you wet and swollen. He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and pushes a finger inside you; the sound you make nearly has him finishing there on the sheets, so he wastes no time in getting himself as close to you as humanly possible.

“Never wanted something so bad,” he murmurs into the dip of your shoulder. He wants all of you– all at once– wants to fuse his hands against your skin and sink himself into you so deep that it would be impossible to tell where he ends and you begin. The heat from his body takes away what little breath you have left, his mouth on each part of your body building the buzz in your chest until you feel like you might just burst open. You grabbed at each other like it was the first and last time you might have this opportunity, as if you wanted more than what the other of you was able to give.

Considering the kind of life you’ve both led so far, it’s a good possibility that you might never get to do this again.

��Give it to me,” you plead, opening yourself further to him, fingers wrapped firm around the base of his cock. “Please.”

Arthur Morgan is a man of incredible strength and self restraint, except when it comes to a woman like you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he takes you. It’s primal, sweaty, filthy, rough. Arthur pushes as far inside you as he can go, then pushes further when you beg for more. He cups your knees with slick palms and presses you open as far as you can bend; you tug roughly at his hair and bite down on his shoulder when the pleasure builds to a blinding ferocity. The wooden bedframe knocks angrily against the wall with each thrust, but you can’t bring yourself to care if anyone hears. You can’t focus on anything beyond the feeling of him filling you with every stroke of his cock, of the taut, corded muscle in his back and shoulders as you grapple to hang on as tight as you can. Your orgasm hits your hard and fast, and he encourages you through it, taking his time to give you long, controlled strokes. It’s as pleasurable for him as it is for you. “‘Atta girl,” he rasps, lips moving against your ear. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries, but he pulls it away and threads his fingers with yours, pressing it onto the pillow. “I wanna hear it.”

Your moans are what drive him over the edge.

He buries his face against the side of your neck, panting heavily as he comes, driving into you so hard that you can almost feel the mattress beneath you begin to sag under the weight. You cradle his head in your hands and link your legs around his waist, boneless and languid in the aftermath of your own pleasure. When he moves, you move with him, riding out the waves together until you’re both too tired to move another muscle.

Neither of you speak for a while. He lies on his back with an arm around your shoulders while you curl against him, tuned into his heartbeat and swirling little patterns into the hair on his chest. It’s comforting to feel him next to you, to watch his chest rise and fall as he steadies his breathing, to soak up the warmth of his skin against yours.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Did everyone else go back to camp last night?”

Arthur nods slowly. “Something tells me they planned all this.”

“Planned it? You mean…” You lift your arm slowly and flick your wrist to acknowledge the room you’re laying in. “This?” You lift your chin and grin at him. “Or getting us together?”

“Room was paid for before I even had a chance to ask if they had one,” he explains. “Think it was Mrs. Adler.”

You vaguely recall her shouting something about a room after you kissed Arthur last night, and you shake your head. “You complaining?”

He turns to his side, draping an arm across your hip. “Me? Never.” You’re suddenly pressed beneath him once again; from the looks of it, you won’t be getting out of this bed anytime soon. “Specially when I’ve got you here to help me keep warm.”

[vifilms]

i’m sick as fuck. ennalove, you’ve really outdone yourself with this one. the master of imagery, this solidified it. mel may have been the painter but you have illustrated this story so vividly with your strong affirmations of grace and love. the tone for this story beat the same with each word. all of it cohesive, every sentence tied to the next. truly, there’s never a time where i don’t enjoy your work.

seeing sevika painted in such a wonderful light, a soft light with comforting hues but you can still feel the rawness of everything and everyone she’s most. even if it is for the greater good and for the people of zaun, her home has changed — her life has changed. to show that struggle in the beginning, the push and pull of the tide, there’s the intertwine of canon into something even deeper. from an emotional standpoint, you seriously always knock sevika out of the park. i can hear her thoughts, i feel what she feels, her pain is as close to my heart as it is to hers. it’s intimate. i don’t think people understand how hard it is to execute that in writing. a numbing emotion can often feel thoughtless but there’s full intentionality in this and it’s felt in every word. the entire time i was reading this i just craved for more. the worlds you create in your work are stellar, sevika’s feelings don’t get lost in the shuffle and you can quite literally feel everything about them.

she’s wounded, hard but soft around the edges, she’s lost so much, and she’s ridiculed for things out of her control. the way your write sevika feels real and tangible. a woman who no longer has a home but has her heart beat for zaun and the cause she believes in even if she’s surrounded by people who don’t understand it. and they might never, and there’s heartbreaking tangibility in that feeling. it’s something all of us feel consistently. in some aspect, we can’t control circumstances out of our grip, all we can do is take our best foot forward.

…..but melvika.

the imagery and analogies between the stars and what they mean to each other? fucking amazing. how sevika says the stars is the only think she likes but then saying mel is the first person who is kind to her, the first person who appreciates her and the knowledge she has to offer. mel is sevika’s star and vice versa. maybe it’s just me but i’m just a sucker for people from completely different lives and coming together and all of it just works. it shouldn’t, it couldn’t, but somehow it does.

“yeah and there are so many of them, and it’s like every time you see them you’re seeing a completely different sky. and they’re cool because they only come out at night when they think nobody can see them, it’s like they’re shy. but i always see them because i’m always awake with them.” she rambles.

oh yes. this shit is so fucking good. the foreshadowing. always being present with one you love, and also — i always see them because i’m always with them — there’s so much weight in this line. there’s a thousand different ways it can be interpreted. personally it’s someone like sevika, being reserved, shy, or even cautious, not wanting to be seen or perceived because it’s never ended out well for yourself but when someone does for the first time, it’s the most beautiful thing to experience. what’s that saying? to be seen is to be loved. that’s what this little section screams to me. when someone loves you for the first time, not for a version of yourself you think you are or someone wants you to be, but they love you for you. it’s humbling, it aches, it’s more than overwhelming, but there’s nothing else like it in the world.

there’s true submission in love, and that’s where trust and partnership can blossom and grow, and that’s exactly how this fic made me feel. like there’s a blossom of hope on the other side of the tunnel. the people we love waiting on the other side for us. ready to restore a faith in humanity that we’ve lost.

always exquisite, enna. thank you for always challenging the way i write, making me see the craft in a different lense. it’s so hauntingly beautiful. as if a surgeon can suture a cracked heart back together just because they will it so. ennabear, your talent is always a pleasure to witness. i love your work so much. never stop, ever.

♡

✴︎ —PAINT THE AGES A HUNDRED SHADES OF GOLD ⊹₊⟡⋆

I DON’T WANNA TALK ABOUT LOVE ANYMORE ‘CAUSE IT’S GETTING TOO MUCH FOR ME …

cw: councilor!sevika x painter!mel, sevika is a lil sad and mean but she gets over it, sevika is also kind of a loser who can’t stop talking when she gets drunk, jinx and isha mentions because i’m evil and we know this, mel paints sevika nude, body worship, lots of comfort, oral sex, 18+

word count: 7.3k

it’s been months since sevika’s big move, and she fucking hates it to say the least.

all of these pilties are stuck up, even more than she remembers. which is a lot. she’s exhausted, she questions why she’s even a part of the council if all they do is ignore her. showing up every day and listening to them talk about her home and her people the way they do makes her sick.

they draft plans to raid the markets, shutting down anyone who isn’t licensed to be selling meat or rice or bread, but they refuse to let anyone get a license to sell those things. of course, she’s glad that she gets to eat three meals a day now, but with every bite she takes, she’s reminded of her home, and how starving they must be over there.

no matter how much she fights back, offers up a real plan that could make peace between the rivaling nations, they all just snicker and point fingers at her like she’s some sort of circus act.

and don’t ask her about how much she likes being called councilor sevika, because she doesn’t like it at all. she’s not a councilor, and maybe that’s a good thing, because it’s the last thing she’d ever wanna be.

still, she keeps her emotions under control. this is a huge opportunity to help get zaun on it’s feet and cut ties with piltover officially, she won’t spoil it by making a scene and giving up. no matter what, she’s gonna make an effort, even if it means being locked in a room with a group of rich pigs who’ve never felt that growing pit of hunger in their stomachs that make them so dizzy that they keel over on the streets.

that they die on the streets.

so yeah, it’s not easy, not even a little bit.

most of her nights are spent alone in her room. it’s nice, “small” compared to the rooms everyone else occupies, but still bigger than any house she’s ever seen in the undercity. it has large windows that let every bit of light in, but it’s still eerily dark at night compared to zaun.

in zaun, there are neon lights and buzzing street lamps that glow and flicker at every hour, so when it gets dark, the colorful lights bounce off of every inch of the city. you can see them in the reflections of the puddles, bright streaks of light flying up into the night from behind buildings and stretching until they’re out of sight.

here, in piltover, they have different kinds of lights. tiny, white holes in the sky called stars that shine when it gets dark. they have spotlights and statues and lanterns, but it gets lonely at night. everyone is at home, distancing from their friends and their jobs, getting sleep and resting up for whatever the next day will bring.

there isn’t really any rest in zaun, just a small wink of sleep whenever you catch it, and you’re up again. everyone’s grouchy and hungry and cold, but it makes for good shimmer sales, and the bar is a great place to find refuge when you need a break from it all.

so sevika sleeps with all of her lights on. an attempt to remind her of home— although her home doesn’t have a queen sized bed, fluffy pillows and soft blankets, lamps, alarm clocks, fireplaces, clean water on their nightstands, and stars that shine through their windows.

the stars might be her favorite part about piltover. probably the only good thing about piltover. she doesn’t really know what they are or what they do, but they’re nice to look at late at night when she can’t manage to sleep.

every time she finds herself staring up at them, she sends a prayer or two up to janna. always one for the people, a prayer that even though they pretend to hate each other, and there sure are a few goons who are ready to slit her throat for never paying them back, she hopes they’re okay.

she hopes that ran and theiram have got the bar under control, that vi and ekko manage to keep the chaos limited, and most of all, that jinx and isha are doing alright.

ever since silco died, her whole world was flipped upside down and shaken vigorously. who knew that someday she’d be missing jinx? but she does. she cries at night for the blue haired girl, praying for her safety and her happiness, hoping that she’s managed to keep some of her creativity after everything that went down.

and of course for the more tolerable blue haired kid, isha.

she prays that isha is still attached at the hip to jinx, that her fluffy hair gets dyed that awful bright blue color as often as she wants it to, that she’s found some way to communicate with the world while her voice is at rest.

she’s got no clue as to where they could be. one second, she’s wishing jinx would leave her alone. that she’d pack up her inventions and make a home for them far away from sevika’s life. the next second, they’re gone. no warning, no heads up whatsoever, just completely taken from her life.

but if she wishes to find any wisp of happiness, she’s gonna have to push these thoughts to the back of her mind, only letting them front when she’s alone and awake and accompanied by the stars. they’re the only things who understand her.

——

if you listen closely, you might be able to hear the sound of mel’s thoughts buzzing around in her mind.

the past few months have given her some intense whiplash, but things are finally starting to straighten out. her life isn’t exactly normal, but she’s growing used to her… new self.

she spends most of her time perched at her easel, painting the canvas in beautiful colors that fall over various people or places. it’s therapeutic for her, whatever image or question or anger she has lingering in her head, she can work it out with the paints. when she’s done, she lines them up in front of her.

it helps her see things more clearly, like a thought that can’t float away, frozen in time for her to analyze further. some of them are just plain colors. gold, with white, yellow, and bronze streaks, an attempt to recreate the swirls that are painted on her own body.

sometimes she paints her mother, her eyebrows lowered in a scowl and her silvery gray hair crowning her head. jayce and viktor occasionally make an appearance, both of their faces lost in thought as they stare at various equations and formulas that she can’t quite make out.

sometimes she just sees miscellaneous things, quick visions that she needs to bring to life. countless canvases are covered in black, with that dark red fog reaching into it like vines. there’s also the hextech that makes the occasional appearance, but she can’t quite get that bright, rich blue color right.

a few times before, she’s attempted portraits, but she doesn’t prefer them. lest has been one of her closest friends during all of this, she can sit and pose for hours while mel works away at her figure on the canvas. they’ve also tried painting together, but mel prefers her alone time.

she’s tried recreating the pictures from her memory, but it never comes out as well. she covers the canvas in thick paint, a bronze, brown, and white, making up jayce’s features. but she always clouds his face with shiny white webs, and those glistening, rainbow stars. the ones that stole him away.

while she sits, her body stays stagnant, eyes racing around the blank canvas. she mixes the colors in her head before she even opens the tubes, her eyes proportion it all for her, so she rarely makes sketches anymore.

recently, she’s been more interested in staying in and shutting out the world. the occasional knock rings out against her door, but she can’t be bothered to investigate. she doesn’t wanna give her opinions anymore, doesn’t wanna lead all of topside to peace and gas the streets of the undercity. really, she never signed up for that. sure, she’s ambessa’s daughter, but she doesn’t care to be a leader anymore. not when all it does is get people hurt and killed.

but apparently it’s urgent this time, because the knocking persists.

“um, mel?” a timid voice asks. “i hate to bother you, but the council requires yo—”

she flings the door open, clad in her white robe and slippers. her hood hangs halfway over her head as she glares at the man, but he insists on escorting her to the council meeting. her feet gently pad against the floor as she walks through the long halls, already dreading having to play referee for a group of adults who should know better.

but ambessa is gone now, and these people need someone to give them any sort of direction.

the dome shaped room welcomes her, and although she dreads being there, the sun shining through the stained glass is gorgeous. she spies a few familiar faces sitting in their respective seats, and notices some new ones who were added after the war.

“but they need the money!” one councilor booms, one of the newer ones who mel doesn’t quite recognize yet. “you can’t just cut their funds and raise the tax prices, they—”

“councilor sevika, please.” someone says, talking over her voice. “what possibly could they need more money for? our city needs to be rebuilt, and it’s them who’s caused all of this destruction.”

mel observes quietly, noticing the tears that fill sevika’s eyes. she makes an assumption that they’re either out of sadness, anger, or exhaustion, but she can’t quite tell. one thing she does know, though, is that it isn’t fair.

it’s not fair to just drag a zaunite up to topside and force her to be the only one representing her nation. especially when she has to be locked in a room full of people who hate her, who think she’s nothing more than just undercity trash to mock and make fun of.

mel’s surprised that sevika has held her ground for this long. if that were her, she’d want to pack up and leave within a day, especially when she notices the snorts and sideways glances that she gets every time she opens her mouth.

“have you even been down there?” sevika asks. “have you seen the bodies lying on the streets? have you heard the sobs of the starving children?”

they all look at her, unable to imagine what hunger even is, much less an entire nation overcome by it. shoola offers a sympathetic frown, but it’s not enough for sevika. she’s exhausted, and the thought of seeing her home even more impoverished is killing her. worst of all, word on the street is that zaunites are beginning to call her a traitor.

she wishes that they could see how hard she’s working, how much she’s fighting for them behind the scenes. but she can’t exactly blame them, it must be hard to watch every leader they’ve ever had either fail at leading them to sovereignty or turn their backs on the people. must be worse to watch someone who they thought was on their side disappear into the council and watch as things just keep getting worse and worse down there.

and this makes sevika feel horrible.

it’s hard for her not to blame herself for this, especially because that’s what she’s used to. her job for years was to be silco’s right hand, so it was constantly her fault if something went wrong. that’s just how things are. if things don’t go her way, it must be her fault for not working harder to overcome it.

“i agree.” mel says plainly. “councilor sevika has firsthand knowledge of what it’s like for them, why shouldn’t we trust her?”

sevika is taken aback at this. she’s never seen someone so… rich looking… be this understanding toward her. but although it’s the bare minimum, she appreciates it. she’ll take whatever form of kindness she can get right now.

the other councilors stare at mel like she’s just grown three heads. obviously, they’ve never been told no a day in their life. sevika is glad that she gets to be present for the first time. some of them sputter and growl, some of them roll their eyes, but sevika just sinks back into her chair and decides to let them argue it out.

“i agree too.” councilor shoola says. “it’s only fair… unless, any of you would like to go down there and experience it for yourselves? then you could tell us all about their excess of funds.”

sevika sighs in relief, thanking janna or the universe or whatever god decided to help her out. she can’t exactly smile, at least not yet, but she manages a tiny grin, and decides that maybe she shouldn’t feel too bad about herself just yet.

mel is glad that sevika and shoola have at least a little bit of brains, but she’s starting to rethink having all of the others on the council. maybe they need to fire some, or at least add some more zaunites to level the playing field. although, she now knows that sevika can put up one hell of a fight, so maybe she doesn’t need it.

but the clock strikes two in the afternoon, and the councilors file out to get on with their day until they meet again tomorrow. sevika hangs back, waiting for everyone to leave before she returns to her office. but mel hangs back too, determined to talk to sevika more, to get to know her.

sevika pulls her cape over her shoulders, completely covering her figure before she exits the room. mel perks up and shoots her a questioning look.

“yes?” sevika asks.

“you’re brave.” mel says.

“no i’m not. d’you think it’s brave of me to leave my people starving and helpless down there while i have a real home and three meals a day?”

mel just stares blankly at her. that isn’t what she meant at all, but at the same time, she’s completely right. as much as she still believes that sevika is brave for putting up with the councilors, she should be calling everyone else brave, everyone in zaun who goes days without food. sevika is the luckiest of them all.

“that’s not what i meant.” mel explains. “i meant that you’re better than them because you stand your ground instead of just getting everything you want. you work hard for what you earn.”

sevika shrugs. “i guess you could say that.”

“do you miss it down there?”

“what do you think?” sevika grunts.

“i’d bet that you do, you just try not to show it in front of anyone.”

“yes, because showing weakness gets you killed.”

“not up here, it doesn’t. you should open up a little, it might be good for you.” mel suggests.

“i’ll pass.”

“i could help you.”

“i don’t need—”

“let me help you.” mel says, reaching out to grab sevika’s hand.

“help me how?” sevika asks.

“open up to me. tell me about your life. friends, family, past, anything.”

“okay… maybe.”

“okay, good.”

——

sevika has never been great at opening up to anyone, but mel is… understanding. as much as she hates to talk about her struggles to other people, mel is probably the best possible person to talk to. mel marched herself down sevika’s hall to her door, banging on it until sevika sleepily presented herself. she marched sevika down the hall and through the building until they reached her own suite, and she fed sevika more and more wine until she started to talk to her.

it started with just a confession. sevika was wine drunk and admitted that yes, she did miss her home, and that she hated topside. and then mel pressed for more, made her tell her specifically who she missed and what she missed about them.

the list of people who she missed was never ending. at the top— jinx and isha. in all honesty, mel is shocked to learn that sevika had anyone that she really considered family, much less a daughter or a niece. but sevika tells her all about them, how isha would beg to paint her nails or dye her hair, and how jinx finally had a sister who she could play with, instead of just being too young to do anything.

but when mel asks where they’ve gone, sevika freezes. she doesn’t know, and it’s not something she prefers to think about. dead is something she’d heavily considered, but that ending makes her too sad. as long as she doesn’t know that they’re dead, they’re not. at least not in her world.

she tells mel that she hopes they’re somewhere safe, somewhere that they can have fun together. like floating on a cloud, or living in outer space with the stars. maybe they are with the stars, and that’s why she loves them so much.

“you like the stars?” mel asks.

“that’s the only thing actually worth liking about this place, i think…” sevika slurs drunkenly.

“hmm, i guess they are pretty, aren’t they.” mel ponders.

“yeah and there are so many of them, and it’s like every time you see them you’re seeing a completely different sky. and they’re cool because they only come out at night when they think nobody can see them, it’s like they’re shy. but i always see them because i’m always awake with them.” she rambles.

mel can’t help but giggle. again, everything she said is exactly right, but she’s never seen it that way. sevika offers her a fresh new perspective, one that makes her ponder how much she knows about the world.

“sorry…” sevika whispers, suddenly aware that she’s drunkenly blabbering and probably making a fool of herself. she tries to blink herself sober but it doesn’t work.

“no worries. i like them too.” mel soothes.

“i think i should go.”

“already?” mel asks.

“it’s gett’n late. i have places to be tomorrow…” sevika sighs. mel stands and walks her to the door, grabbing on gently to her human arm in an attempt to stabilize the woman. she offers a sweet smile to sevika as she leaves, even takes her hand in her own for a second and squeezes it tightly, but sevika just stares at the floor.

“mel?” she asks finally, although in a timid voice.

“yes?”

“thanks for sticking up for me. i don’t know what those pigs would get up to without people like me and you.”

mel’s heart warms at this. sevika is so drunk that she’s starting to get sappy and sweet, and while it’s adorable, it’s clear that she needs to get home. but she’s glad that her effort isn’t going unnoticed, and she’s starting to really like sevika.

“of course.” she smiles again. “get some sleep for me, okay? don’t spend too much time with the stars.”

sevika curses herself for the warm feeling that wraps herself all around her, she hates that she’s being vulnerable and making friends. she just blames the feeling on the alcohol, but she knows that it’s not. because that light, warm feeling clings itself to her every time she sees mel.

it happens again when they coincidentally cross paths, mel on her way outside for some fresh air and sevika on her way to her room to sign papers until her fingers bleed. but she realizes for the first time that mel is so beautiful. she hasn’t spotted sevika yet, but the sunlight glowing in from the windows catches her golden streaked skin perfectly, and she’s shining. it’s like she’s a real life star, and sevika can’t peel her eyes away.

“oh, hi sevika.” mel grins.

“um… hi.” she responds, her heart suddenly beating faster than usual. “where are you going?”

“just outside. been cramped up inside all day and the smell of my paints are starting to give me a headache.”

“you paint?” sevika asks, although to anyone else the answer would be obvious.

“yeah, all the time. i’d love to show you someday.” she offers, already knowing that she’s gonna have to drag sevika by the arm and force her to visit.

“okay… yeah, that would be nice.” she says.

“what are you doing right now?” mel asks.

“i just have a lot of paperwork to fill out, letters to write, things to sign, you know how it is.”

“will you stop by later, then?”

“are you gonna make me?”

“probably. if you don’t show up by yourself.”

“alright, see you later then.”

——

sevika is dreading this outing. the more times she thinks about going back over to mel’s, the more anxious she gets. every time she’s been over there the past month, she’s ended up either drunk or blabbering on about stuff that doesn’t matter. or worse— drunk and blabbering. she always finds some way to make a fool of herself, and she doesn’t know how to stop. she just wishes it wasn’t so easy to open up to her, wishes that mel wasn’t so damn likable.

mel already knows she’s gonna have to drag sevika over to come look at her paintings. she always does. no matter how many times she tells the woman to come on her own terms, she finds herself stomping down to sevika’s door and forcing her to hang out. it’s cute, in mel’s mind, it’s like a date. so that’s what she finds herself doing tonight. cleaning up her suite a little, spinning one of her jazz records, and marching down to collect sevika.

she’s arranged her paintings in no particular order, but the array is beautiful. some are framed, some are smaller than others, some of them aren’t even finished. sevika feels so moved by this. she’s never seen anything so beautiful. not anything in real life, not mel herself, not even the stars are as beautiful as her paintings.

mel sits her down on the loveseat, pouring two glasses of wine and sitting down next to sevika, but sevika begs her to talk about her paintings. she’s dying to know how anyone could make anything look more beautiful than the stars. mel blushes at that compliment— it’s a lot coming from sevika for multiple reasons— but she decides that now it’s her turn to open up.

they sit an chat for hours, and before long, sevika feels as if she knows mel like the back of her hand. she now knows about jayce and viktor and what happened to them, about ambessa, her mother, the noxians, and the rest of her family. sevika’s oddly surprised. of course, she’s aware that mel is probably the strongest woman she knows, but she never would’ve guessed that she’s been through that much.

mel cries a bit, and sevika cries too, and they laugh about their emotions like old friends. for once in her life, sevika feels like maybe not everything sucks, and that maybe it’s okay to let herself fall for someone. she just hopes that mel feels the same way.

“sevika?” mel asks, still catching her breath after a fit of giggles.

“yeah?” she smiles.

“will you dance with me?”

“i don’t dance.” sevika says, laughing at the image of her dancing with someone. how silly.

“aww, come on! it’s just us and some jazz! you’ll be fine.” she reasons. “please?”

sevika rolls her eyes at mel’s outstretched hand, but she’s very tipsy and in a good mood, so how could she say no to the beautiful woman standing in front of her?

mel yanks her up by her arm, and sevika wastes no time following after her to the middle of the room where the big sky lights let the stars shine in. sevika scowls and tenses up a bit, but mel wraps her arms around sevika’s waist so gently, guiding sevika’s arm to press against her back. mel sways them back and forth a bit, and sevika soon loosens up and stares down at mel with a smile that puts all of the stars to shame.

“do you ever miss your arm?” mel asks.

“yeah, sometimes. i miss the one jinx made for me, i wish i didn’t take it for granted.” she responds, her mood quickly turning sad against her will.

“i could have one made for you.” mel offers.

sevika shakes her head and flattens her lips into a straight line. “they won’t let me have one on the council.”

it’s mel’s turn to roll her eyes now. “no, i’ll make you one that they’ll accept. they always listen to me, you know.” she grins.

“i guess that would be alright, as long as it’s not much of a hassle.”

“for you? nothing’s a hassle. don’t be silly.”

sevika’s eyebrows pull together in the middle and she pouts, tears quickly filling her eyes. nobody’s ever been this nice to her before. offering her a new limb, protection from the ruthless comments from the council, good wine, and a dance underneath the stars. she can’t help but cry, but she’s not afraid to anymore. with mel, she feels safe enough to be this vulnerable.

mel notices her sad expression, and she silently prays that she didn’t accidentally offend sevika, it’s the last thing she’d ever wanna do. “oh, what’s wrong? did i—”

sevika cuts her off with a kiss. she doesn’t wanna hear any apologies from mel, not after she’s been a literal angel to sevika this past week. mel’s lips are warm and welcoming, they taste sweet, like if gold was a flavor. she reaches her hands up and cradles the back of mel’s head, deepening the kiss.

mel is completely taken aback by this. she didn’t know that sevika had feelings for her. actually, she thought that sevika was sick of her. but she kisses sevika back, her lips are big and pouty and oh so soft. she also gets to feel sevika’s piercing up close, and the cold metal drags against the bottom of her lips ever so slightly. it’s a stark contrast, but a comforting one at that.

one thing leads to another, and they’re quickly back on the loveseat, lapping at each others tongues and giggling like kids and holding hands. sevika’s had tons of sex before, sure, but nothing comes close to this. she feels so special, so cared for, that she notices this strange, giddy feeling bubbling up in her chest.

little does she know, that feeling is called love.

she pins mel down to the seat, both of them breathless and high on this mysterious feeling— although it definitely has something to do with the liquor— and sevika almost cries again when mel spreads her legs beneath her white gown. the warm lamplight mixed with the starlight causes her to glow again, like she’s on fire, so sevika can’t help but kiss all over the gold patterns that paint her skin.

mel erupts into another fit of giggles, holding sevika’s shocked face in her hands. sevika tenses up slightly at her touch, but takes a deep breath and swallows all of her anxiety.

“can i?” sevika asks.

mel smiles and nods. “of course. you can do whatever you want to me.”

sevika shudders and reaches up mel’s dress, caressing her stomach and hips. mel is soft and malleable under her touch, and she’s golden. she reaches forward to tug her dress above her hips. sevika doesn’t think she’s ever seen such a beautiful sight, and mel absolutely adores sevika’s awestruck face.

the same golden markings that paint her face also trail down her abdomen, all the way to her ankles. there are thick streaks of gold that mirror each other on each side of her torso, twisting themselves into swirls and shapes. she also has small golden freckles littering her body, identical to the ones on her face. they look like stars.

best of all, as if sevika wasn’t already turned on enough, she has small, golden hairs that trail down from just beneath her belly button, only stopping when they crown her dripping hole. this woman is made of pure magic, and if sevika doesn’t get her mouth on her within the next millisecond, she thinks she might faint.

mel grabs sevika’s hand when she notices her hesitation, and this makes her snap back into the moment and start eating mel out. she starts slow, just some teasing, soft licks to her clit that make her shiver. mel moans so sweetly and beautifully and sevika feels like she’s floating.

sevika grips mel’s hand harder and harder as she keeps eating her out, and it’s times like these that she wishes she has two hands. one to hold mel’s with, and one to feel inside of her, pumping her full of her thick fingers. mel arches her back and thrusts up into sevika’s face, and they both nearly cum on the spot.

she pulls back for a second, a string of white slick connecting itself to sevika’s lips before dripping down her chin.

“sev, you’re doing so good, baby.” mel praises. “don’t stop, i’m so close.”

sevika speeds up her movements, determined to make mel cum. her big, silver eyes squeeze shut as her mouth works it’s magic, sucking on her clit and running her pointed tongue between mel’s folds to collect her slick.

but she doesn’t cum until sevika wraps her lips around her clit again, her piercing colliding with mel’s throbbing clit as she tips over the edge. a low whine is pulled from her throat, and sevika pulls back to admire the woman above her. mel yanks sevika up by her shirt, thanking her with a deep kiss. some of sevika’s lipstick is smudged, so mel wipes it off with her thumbs, as well as the wet slick that’s smeared all over her face.

sevika is suddenly very aware that she doesn’t need shimmer anymore, because she feels like mel’s sweet nectar is enough to get her high.

“i’m gonna need that new arm as soon as you can get it.” sevika says with her lips smashed against mel’s. “need to show you what else i can do.”

——

it’s been three weeks since then, and sevika’s been coming over every night. she still has lots of work to do, but mel helps her with all of it. they sort through tall stacks of paperwork, taking turns sitting on the others lap and pouring each other more wine. sometimes they get distracted with sex, but they try their hardest to stay focused. occasionally mel will bring out her paints and work on something new, forcing sevika to stay focused while she’s at work.

they also spend their mornings together. if they don’t wake up in the other’s arms, they’ll sleepily march down to their door and bang on it until they reunite and hold each other again.

but this morning, sevika wakes up in mel’s bed alone. she reaches out for the woman with her arm, but that side of the bed is just cold and empty. sitting up, she glances around the room until she spies mel in her silky white cloak painting on the balcony.

“mel?” she asks groggily. “why’re you up so early?”

“just had to finish something, love.” she responds, smiling at her girlfriend’s half awake state. “you can go back to sleep if you’d like.”

“can i at least see what you’re working on?”

“not yet.” she smiles. “it’s a surprise.”

sevika groans and turns around to go back inside, but mel catches her arm and yanks her back for a kiss. sevika kisses over each of mel’s golden freckles, and then her lips, then her nose, her forehead, chin, and then lips again, before returning inside. mel giggles and tries to swat sevika’s back before she gets away, but she’s too slow and the effort is wasted.

back inside, sevika grabs onto mel’s pillow and stuffs her face into it, bringing a familiar comfort that lulls her back to sleep. she’s shaken awake a few hours later, though. it’s mel, very gently rattling sevika’s shoulder while caressing her hair. “sevika, babe, wake up.” she whispers.

“mmmmh?”

“i have a present for you.”

“hmmmm?”

“wake up so you can open it.”

“ughhhhh.”

“oh, please. don’t be so pouty. i want you to see it! quickly, quickly!” she urges, yanking sevika back to the balcony. the sun is slightly higher in the sky now, some of the orange in the sky is still fading away but the sky is painted in a light yellow color, it matches mel a little bit.

she hands her a giant white box with mel’s name on it, a small golden bow sitting directly on the top. “what is this?” sevika asks.

“open it and see!” mel smiles.

so she does. she flips the lock on the box and pulls it open, a smooth, golden arm staring back at her.

“what is this?” sevika asks again, this time in disbelief. she couldn’t tell how serious mel was about acquiring a new arm for her, so she didn’t think she’d be receiving a new one this quickly, or one this pretty.

it’s a lot more modern compared to her other two arms that she’s had in the past. it has a matte gold casing all around it, with shimmery gold patterns that resemble mel’s carved into it. it has all five fingers, but they’re not as pointy, more resembling her human fingers than her past arms. sevika is overcome with emotions, and she turns around to pull mel in for a hug, hiding her tears on her shoulder.

“do you like it?” mel asks.

“i love it.”

“will you teach me how to put it on you?”

“of course.” sevika promises, and with that, mel tugs her inside and makes her sit and show her. it takes a bit of fumbling. sevika isn’t great at explaining things, but she also can’t do much with only one arm, so lots of trial and error occurs during the process. but eventually it’s all screwed in, and the first thing sevika does is pull mel in for a real hug.

mel never really realized how strong sevika is, and how crushing her hugs are. at least, not until now. she knows that sevika can hold her somewhat tightly, but one arm doesn’t do much. now that she as two arms though, mel is struggling to breathe with the way sevika is crushing her. or maybe it’s just because sevika wants to show her girlfriend some love. and she’s definitely not crying.

“i have one more thing.” mel says, although most of it gets muffled by sevika’s chest.

“what is it?” she asks.

“come outside and look.”

sevika follows her outside, grabbing onto mel’s elbow with her new hand.

“close your eyes.” mel says, so sevika squeezes her eyes shut and tries her hardest not to peek. mel dashes over to retrieve the painting on her canvas that’s now fully dry, and then she holds it to face sevika.

“okay, now open them.”

she opens her eyes to see mel holding one of her new paintings— the one she wasn’t allowed to see yet. but now she’s aware of why she wasn’t allowed to see it, because the painting is of her.

it’s sevika. hunched over at mel’s desk with her reading glasses on and a pen in her hand, a glass of wine half empty on the table next to her. the colors in the painting are very warm, likely resembling the warm lamps that decorate mel’s suite. and the most surprising thing— there’s a smile on sevika’s face.

it’s not something she’s ever seen on herself before. for one, she’s never been one to smile in general, it’s just not something she was ever used to doing. photographs are also very rare in zaun, so the only way she could’ve seen it on herself is by smiling in front of a mirror, which is even more rare.

sevika doesn’t even know how to feel. she should cry, because nobody has ever been this kind to her before, and she’s overwhelmed with emotions from the arm, the painting, and just being around mel.

she should also be happy. nobody has ever understood her as much as mel does, and she feels so honored to be seen in her artistic lense. she should be glad that she gets to live up here, where everything is safe and pretty and valuable. she’s also still half asleep, and can’t exactly tell if she’s dreaming or not.

“what do you think?” mel asks after a while.

“i don’t know what i did to deserve this.” sevika says honestly. “is there some kind of special occasion that i don’t know about? or are you just spoiling me.”

“well, mostly the latter,” mel laughs. “but it is our one month anniversary, if that counts for anything.”

“i didn’t get you anything.” sevika frowns, suddenly feeling way out of mel’s league, almost insecure.

“that’s alright.” mel smiles. “your presence is enough.”

sevika rolls her eyes and manages a smile too, yanking mel forward and giving her a sweet kiss. one month isn’t much, but it’s been the happiest month of sevika’s life, and things are starting to look up for her. for zaun, too.

“well,” mel starts, pulling away from sevika’s lips. “there is one small thing you could do for me.”

“and that is…?”

“model for me so i can paint you?” she asks with a happy shrug of her shoulders.

“now? but you just painted me.”

“yes, i’m aware.” she laughs. “but i haven’t painted your new arm yet, and that was from a few days ago but you just look so adorable today. please?”

sevika smiles too. how could she say no to mel when she asks so nicely? “alright, fine.” she agrees.

“good, and take all of your clothes off, too.”

sevika freezes. although mel has seen her naked hundreds of times, she suddenly feels shy.

“don’t worry, it’s just for us.” mel soothes. “lay on the bed and i’ll position you.”

so sevika is left no choice but to follow the orders she was given. she strips herself of her clothes— which is much easier now that she has two arms— and lays down on the bed, looking up at mel with her big, watery eyes. mel walks over and pushes her backward until she’s propped up with just one elbow.

“is this comfortable?” mel asks.

“uh… y-yeah.” sevika responds.

mel pries sevika’s legs open, positioning them apart so that she has a full view of sevika’s dripping cunt from her easel. sevika whimpers, her eyes widening and sparkling as she looks up at mel.

“don’t be shy.” mel teases. “it’s just me.”

“i know, sorry…” sevika says with a sigh, making a mental note to loosen up.

“are you ready for me to start? we’re probably gonna be here all day.”

“yeah. ready.” sevika responds.

“okay, let me know if you need a break.”

mel isn’t too fond of painting from models, but she can feel her opinion changing as she sculpts sevika with the paint. her legs are easy. long and thick, and she gets to mimic the way they’re pressed open.

her torso is next, which is one of her favorite things about sevika. her abs are hard and sturdy, but they get slightly softened out by the rolls of her stomach. then mel moves up to her tits, painting two perfectly pointed brown circles accented with thick, dark nipples.

her neck comes after, and then her arms, and finally her face. mel has memorized every little expression sevika has, so she has a lot to choose from, but she chooses the one that sevika is wearing right now. a goofy, lovestruck smile, adorned with a slight blush sparkling on her cheeks.

her eyes are also fun, they’re so big and sparkly and metallic, mel can’t help but paint stars in them. and of course, her nose, her tooth gap, her piercing, and her hair. they all come together to make up the most perfect face that mel has ever seen.

she moves on to the arms next, painting one with her thick muscles and her warm brown skin, and the other with a shiny gold. her shoulders are slightly slanted, and they have bite marks and hickeys carved into them, which makes mel immensely proud of herself.

and finally, sevika’s glistening cunt. she paints each fold tenderly, a small circle at the top covered slightly by a thin, fleshy hood. she paints the slick in between her thighs that just keeps collecting with her finest white and silver paints.

and of course, her bush, because she wouldn’t dare to forget it. she curls each stroke of her brush until it perfectly mirrors sevika’s thick, dark curls, and then she trails them all the way up her lower stomach.

she finishes the background next, but it’s not much. she doesn’t want anything to take away from sevika’s beauty. but she makes sure to add a few stars surrounding her of various sizes and shades of gold.

sevika has been surprisingly patient throughout the whole thing, mel predicted that she’d be begging for snacks only ten minutes in. but mel finishes quickly and she’s beaming with excitement as soon as she’s done.

“do you wanna see it?” she asks.

“you’re done already?” sevika replies.

“yeah. you’re an easy model.”

“okay, yeah, let me see.” sevika smiles.

mel lifts up the canvas and presents it to sevika, and it’s somehow even more beautiful than the other painting. mel captures her so beautifully, sevika is so honored to be viewed that way. for the first time in her life, she truly feels beautiful. and mel can tell that she feels that way too, through the tears that threaten to spill in her eyes.

and just as sevika is about to tackle mel to the bed too, she notices something in the bottom corner. in a shimmery gold writing, the words “my star. -mel m.” are painted. sevika looks up at mel with a questioning glance and asks, “what’s that?”

“it’s my signature. the title of the painting and my name.”

“‘my star’?” sevika reads off.

“yeah, because that’s what you are. you’re my star, sevika. you’re so beautiful and bright.”

and those words echo in sevika’s mind for the rest of time, especially when sevika pins mel down and rides her face into the pillow a few seconds later. she’s right. she is mel’s star, isn’t she.

[tsuzukerukoto]

Kinoko Nasu has given me a Pavlovian emotional response to the concept of stars so when one of Firefly's siblings asked if they would see stars I got a little misty eyed I'm not gonna lie

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 33: Ghosts of the Past

Summary: It can't be a coincidence anymore.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 5,411 words

Warnings: ANGST, emotional turmoil, panic and panic attacks, anxiety, drugs used for drugging, very brief mention of predatory behavior, author can't write call of duty missions for shit, withholding the truth, hints at betrayal, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, very much leaning into that AU now, brief mention of guns and bullets

A/N: Ummm...yeah. You'll see. Bit shorter than normal but my obsessive need for cliffhangers prevents me from shoving it all into one chapter.

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Her head is spinning. There’s a steady throbbing behind her eyes, her blood pumping in her ears. Her shoulder aches from the cold tile floor under her. She can’t quite bring herself to move yet, the deep ache in her bones still lingering. She pushes through the haze in her mind, trying to bring up the memories of what happened. 

Someone had entered her office. She hadn’t even had time to turn around when she was hit from behind. That explains the throbbing in the back of her head. Likely concussed, though it hadn’t been a hard hit. Not hard enough to do serious damage, not even hard enough to make her see stars. Just enough to incapacitate her so she couldn’t fight back. There had been a sting of a needle in her neck. Whatever it was, it was fast acting, maybe a minute before she lost consciousness. 

Ketamine...maybe fentanyl. 

She pushes herself up to sit, blinking back the dizziness and the nausea. Whoever attacked her wanted her out of the way, incapacitated for long enough to do something. 

A horrifying thought flashes through her mind as she comes back to reality. She’s one of the few on base that knows you’re completely alone. She’s likely the only one who would care if you went missing. She tries to keep herself calm, tries to slow her breathing as she feels her pockets, pulling herself up onto her knees, gripping the side of her desk as she fights the nausea and pounding in her head that nearly blinds her. 

Her phone is gone. 

Her legs shake as she forces them under her, pulling herself up. She needs to get to the barracks, needs to check on you. She stumbles to the door, pushing it open as she tries to keep her breathing under control. You’re smart. You’re going to hide, or run, from any threat. You’ve learned your lesson from the last time. You won’t go easily again. 

The walk to the barracks feels like it takes forever as she half stumbles her way across the base, fighting the wind still whipping through the open areas between the buildings. Her head is throbbing, the haze of the drug still lingering. It’s the terror in her mind, the horrible thoughts of what might have happened keeping her moving forward. She only gets glances as she crosses to the 141’s barracks. None of them even think to ask her if she’s alright. 

There’s no help from the others. 

She pushes open the door to the barracks, blinking through the burning of the bright fluorescents. She feels for you, having to exist in such a bright, clinical space. 

Dread begins to fill her as she reaches your door, finding it open. The door jam is broken, the wood around the lock splintered. Your dresser had been pushed behind the door, but it hadn’t stopped whoever wanted to get in. The window is open, and she can only hope you crawled your way through to safety. She steps up to your desk, books and snacks in disarray, some having fallen to the floor. She swallows thickly as she stares down at the wood, her fingers shaking. 

Her phone is sitting on the desk. 

She picks it up, the screen flashing on. There’s a missed call from you. Whoever had broken in must have made it look like she was the one responsible. She goes through her contacts, finding your number before calling. She doesn’t have hope that you’ll answer, but she has to try for her own sanity. 

The phone doesn’t even ring before it goes to voicemail. 

She steps out of your door, going through every room she can in the barracks, shouting your name. She doesn't have hope, except maybe that you doubled back and barricaded yourself somewhere. It’s not likely you would answer to her anyway, if you thought she was the one behind all of this. 

She heads outside, trying to catch any lingering hint of your scent, but the wind has dispersed it completely. There’s soldiers milling around, likely on their afternoon breaks. She doesn't hesitate as she approaches them, asking every soldier she sees in the area if they’ve seen you. 

“I saw her.” One finally says. Allen, his patch reads. “Running towards the trees.” 

“Was anyone following her?” She asks. 

He shrugs. “Dunno. Didn’t stay long enough to see.” 

She feels the urge to punch him, to yell at him for not helping, but she knows they have strict orders to keep away from you. They might have not known any better, or wanted to risk a reprimanding if they disobeyed orders. 

She continues to take deep breaths as she glances towards the trees. It won’t do her much good to try to go looking by herself. You wouldn’t have followed the trail. You’re too smart for that. She’d need a whole army to search the base for you. 

Her hands shake as she searches through her contacts. She’s not expecting an answer. She’s probably busy with the 141 away on a mission. No one will know. No one will know until it’s too late. She’s not sure what to do. Would the commanders on base believe her? Would they organize a search based on her word alone? By then it might be too late. It might be too late now. 

“Laswell.” 

“Kate, Kate I can’t find her.” She gasps out, spinning around in the middle of the road, as if you might come popping out of thin air, or creeping out from behind a building. She’s panicking, speaking the words aloud feeling like an absolute truth, as if she’s speaking it into existence. 

“Who?” Kate asks, sounding confused. 

She chokes out your name, her hand pressed to her chest to try and calm the panic quickly rising in her. “She’s gone.” 

Kate takes a deep breath to keep her head clear and calm. It’s far too much of a coincidence to deny it now. The cameras, the sudden deployment, the call from Shepherd for the whole team, the discovery of the files. 

Now this. 

“Kate?” 

She’s never heard Christine so emotional, so uncomposed before. “I’m here.” She says, composing herself. One of them needs to be clear-headed and logical. “I’m going to contact command, alert base security. You look everywhere you think she might possibly be.”

“Yeah, okay.” Christine lets out a breath. “I can do that.” 

“I’ll call back as soon as I can.” She says. “If you find anything, I need to know immediately.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Kate knows she’s trying to calm herself, get her head on straight again. “Christine? We’ll find her. No matter what it takes.” 

“You don’t....you don’t think she’s...” She can’t manage to finish the sentence. 

“No.” Kate says, not even having to ask what she means. It’s not a lie, though. If the conspiracy that’s been brewing in her head is true, you’re more valuable to them alive. “If what I think is happening is actually happening, she has to be alive. She’s no use to anyone dead.” She says, speaking the thoughts aloud for the first time since the delivery of the cameras into her hands. 

“I hope you’re right.” 

Kate holds her phone in her hand, taking a breath. She’s not sure how it happened, how you managed to disappear out from under Christine’s watchful eye. Something must have happened that separated the two of you long enough for you to disappear. Christine wouldn’t just leave you like that unless it was something important, or if she sensed something wrong, something that might put you at risk. You wouldn’t have left the barracks on your own, not unless something forced the two of you apart. 

She should call them, make them aware. 

She can’t bring herself to. Not yet. She can’t distract them. The job comes first. She’s always hated those words in the context of the initiative. Why would they put an omega through this? What was the real reason? The idea of the initiative always left a bad taste in her mouth when she thought about it too much. She’ll know soon. She’ll get her answers as soon as her team finishes combing through those files. 

She won’t call them until they know for sure. Not until they’re positive, not until there’s proof. They’re not in a place they could easily leave, either.

Sometimes the greater good has to come first. 

Her hands are shaking as she dials the number for the base commander. They have an omega to find. 

Christine’s heart is pounding as she races around the base, checking everywhere she can think of. She’d gotten looks as she combed through the mess, wide eyed and nearly shaking with fear. Her scent must have been projecting, all the control she’d mastered slipping away. She’s never felt panic like this before, not even in the toughest situations with omegas. This is different though. You’re her only patient. She had been tasked with keeping watch over you, they had trusted her enough to take care of you in their absence again, even after everything had happened. 

Your mental state scared her. Seeing you like that wasn’t a surprise after everything you’ve gone through these last few weeks, but that doesn’t stop the worry, the concern as your doctor. Sure, whoever took you, if they took you, might want you alive...but can your mind keep itself alive for that long? 

She asks everyone she can in the mess, the kitchen staff and everyone sitting near the doors if they’ve seen you. 

No one. Not a single soul saw you. It was unlikely you’d run to the mess, but that would have been the logical move. Run where there’s a crowd, though if you thought they wouldn’t help you, you might have avoided it. 

She checks the med center next, combing every inch of it she can. She’s not sure you would have risked running there if you thought she was behind it. Did you see your assailant’s face? You must have, if they drugged you too. You wouldn’t go quietly, so they would have had to reveal themselves to you. 

You know it’s not her behind it. 

She tells herself that to make herself feel better. 

Would you think she was, even if evidence pointed to it? Would you think she would betray you like that? They would have taught you not to trust anyone, but why now? Why would she strike now when she’s been with you in your weakest moments over the last two weeks? There were plenty of times she could have done something, yet she hadn’t. She wouldn’t have. There was no amount of money in this world that would have convinced her to turn against you, betray you and your pack. 

She had been willing to fight tooth and nail to avoid sending those files to Shepherd if John hadn’t told her to do it. He trusted her. 

That trust will be broken now. 

She left you alone, and now you’re gone. 

Or dead. 

There would be no escaping their retribution. They’d hunt her down to the ends of the earth. Alex would never forgive her. Hell, he’d probably join them. 

She checks the gym, even though she doubts you’d run there of all places. She combs every corner she can, getting one of the soldiers to unlock the training rooms just in case, even though it was illogical to think you’d be able to get in with them locked. She can’t be too careful, though. Maybe they taught you how to pick locks. 

She even checks the pool, looking at every inch just to be sure. 

She’s not sure if it’s a relief she can’t find you compared to the alternative, or if it’s almost worse. At least if she found a body there would be closure. The panic could ease for a moment and she’d know. She’d be sure. 

She runs through the barracks once more, combing through every closet and toilet stall, but as expected there’s nothing there. Just your forced open door and the open window. Whatever happened, you did what you were supposed to. You called her and you ran. You learned your lesson, the lessons they’ve all taught you. You did your best, and that is enough, even if her darkest thoughts are true. 

You must have run for the trees. It’s the most logical place to run. There’s plenty of places to hide, lots of space to run and double back on your trail, to confuse whoever was following you until they gave up. 

Would they give up? Or was their motivations strong enough to keep them prowling, hunting every inch of the forest to look for you. 

What if they’re still out there looking for you? What if you’re still out there, afraid and alone. 

She hadn’t seen your phone in your room. She prays you grabbed it before you left. Maybe you’re out there trying to call Kate, trying to call anyone who might be able to help. She wishes you’d call her, but why would you if you think she’s still behind it? 

Whoever did this planned this out perfectly. 

It’s all premeditated. All of it. 

What if you’re out there distressing? 

She feels like vomiting, her stomach churning uncomfortably. You were already so worked up about your pack being gone, something like this might have sent you right over the edge. She curls her hands into fists, trying to stop them from shaking. She doesn’t know what to do. 

For the first time in a long time she doesn’t have a solution to a problem. 

She leans against the wall outside the barracks, taking deep breaths. She’s no good to anyone if she’s panicking. You need help. You’ll need her if they find you. She’ll be the only one that will be able to help you. She’s not even sure your pack knows yet. Could Kate tell them? It’s been weeks and there’s been no word. Kate hadn’t been able to give her anything as expected, only that she’d pass the word along once they had a moment. 

Had she been lying, or had they truly been off the grid completely? Has this deployment really been that serious? They had called in the whole pack. Or had that been premeditated too. Get you alone and wait for the perfect moment. It can’t be coincidence that they waited until you were distressed enough being separated from your pack for so long. 

None of it is a coincidence. 

Would Kate tell them this happened? Would she risk it now that your life is in danger?

Or is Kate in on this too? 

She shakes the thought from her head. She knows Kate. Kate had picked her specifically for this job. She spent weeks with Kate interviewing and being debriefed for this position. Kate wouldn’t do something like this, not with how close she is to John and the pack. They trust her and she knows them enough to pick an omega that fits in seamlessly with them. She wouldn’t betray them and you like this. 

Something is going on behind the scenes. Something has happened to cause all of this. It’s all related. It has to be. It’s all too convenient, all too orchestrated. It has to revolve around the cameras. There’s no other thing she can think of that might cause this series of events. 

Unless it goes even deeper than that. 

“Dr. Keller?” She looks up when she hears her name. 

“Yes?” She says, pushing herself to stand up straight as an officer approaches.  

“Lieutenant Colonel Woods, Base Commander.” The officer holds out his hand. 

She shakes it, her palms sweaty but he doesn’t seem to care. 

“We’re rounding up everyone who is still on base.” He says. It’s the weekend. A lot of them will have left. All the more easy to sneak you away. “We’ll search through every building and send out parties to comb through the forest.” 

She nods, taking a deep breath. “Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel. I’ve checked everywhere I can think of. There’s no sign of her.”

“If she’s still on base, we’ll find her.” He says, far more confident than she feels. 

If you’re still on base. The words make her want to vomit. 

“The front gate guards are compiling a list of everyone who has come on base and left base within the last two hours.” He continues. “If someone took her, we’ll know.” 

“I’m worried about her.” She says, the only thing that’s coming to her mind. It’s true. She’s never been quite so invested in the wellbeing of a patient as she has you, but then again, she’s never been this involved in the life of a patient before. “A lot of things could go wrong quickly.” 

“We’ve got a lot of boots on the ground out there looking.” He says. He’s trying to be comforting. She knows this, but that stiff military mindset keeps it from sounding more than cordial and practiced. What if they’re all in on it? “We’ll find her, or we’ll get answers to what happened.” 

The wait is the worst part. She’s going crazy, waiting for any word. Anything that might hint at what’s happening. There’s been nothing yet, no sign of you, but it’s hardly been twenty minutes. She can’t stop the spiraling thoughts. She can’t take her own advice, apply her own knowledge and teachings. Not right now. Not while she’s bordering on a crisis. She needs to find you. She needs to know you’re alright. 

Don’t let them find a body. 

She’ll never live with herself. She left you alone. She let this happen. She was supposed to be watching you, taking care of you, and now you’re gone under her watch. 

They’ll never trust her again. 

Her phone ringing nearly has her jumping out of her skin. She fumbles for it in her pocket, her fingers trembling. Please let it be you. She lets out a breath of disappointment before answering. 

“Kate?” Her voice shakes. 

“Any news?” Kate asks. She sounds disheveled herself. 

“Nothing.” She swallows thickly. “They’re still looking.” 

Kate sighs. “I don’t think she’s on base.” 

Hearing it nearly makes her legs give out. She’s known that’s likely the case since she called Kate the first time, but hearing it out loud solidifies that as a fact. She’s been keeping a fool’s hope that you managed to hide somewhere, that you got somewhere safe, even if she knows better. 

“This goes a lot deeper than we all thought. It was never about the cameras or the initiative.” Kate continues. 

“The reports, the prying.” She says. “It wasn’t about tracking progress for the sake of progress.” 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

“Sir.” A soldier approaches, saluting the Lieutenant Colonel. 

“We might have some news.” She says, putting her phone on speaker. She hopes it’s true. If they can get a name, then they’ll have an easier time finding you. 

“At ease.” Woods says. 

“We have the list of everyone who left base in the last two hours.” He says, handing over a tablet. “There’s only one.” 

“Colonel McKinney.” Woods says. 

“He left in his personal vehicle 50 minutes ago.” The guard says. 

“Give me every detail you can on that car.” Kate says. 

“It’s a blue Ford Fiesta, registration plate Papa Juliet 64, Hotel Tango November.” Woods says.

“I’ll get eyes on that car.” Kate says. 

“I’ll alert local police.” Woods says. 

“We will find her.” Kate says, and Christine knows she’s trying to reassure her. 

“Do they know?” She asks. 

“Not yet.” Kate says. “They’re not in a place where they can do anything about it, and the last thing they need is to get distracted.” 

“They're not going to like being kept in the dark on this for so long.” She says. 

“I know. But it’s for their own safety above all else.” 

And the greater good of the world, Christine knows, even if Kate doesn’t say it out loud. It’s always for the greater good. That’s why the job comes first, even if it’s at your detriment. She feels like screaming, like throwing her phone. 

It’s not fair. 

Her hands are still shaking as she ends the call with Kate, not feeling any more comforted than she had before. It’s possible Corporal McKinney was involved. It’s too coincidental that he left base within the time you went missing. Why would he take you, though? Was he involved in all of this too? She’s never heard you mention his name before, nor have you brought up any strange feelings about any of the soldiers on base. Omegas are good at reading others' energies. It’s a natural defense mechanism and with your pureblood status, it makes you all the more aware of things in your environment. 

Then again, you kept the cameras from all of them. What else have you been hiding? 

She pushes the thoughts away. Now is not the time for conspiracies she can’t get an answer to. They need to find you first and ensure you’re alright. That’s the most important thing. 

“Lieutenant Colonel!” A soldier says, approaching their makeshift headquarters. “We found something, sir.” 

“What did you find?” He says, standing up straight. 

“A bullet on the trail, sir.” He places the bullet in Woods’ hand. “About a quarter of a mile from the trailhead.” 

Christine feels like passing out. Her legs are wobbling, knees shaking as she stands there, staring at the bullet. She needs to sit down, she needs to breathe. 

Don’t let them find a body. Please don’t let them find a body. 

The tear that trails down her cheek is hot against her clammy skin. 

Kate sighs as she puts down the phone. She wants to put her head in her hands, scream, punch something, anything. She can’t, though, she’s doing double duty. She’s the only one she trusts to do both of these things. This pack is hers to watch over, hers to help, and that includes the entire pack. 

Not much can be done until Corporal McKinney and his car are found. There won’t be any leads until then, unless they come across something on base. She hates it, that she can’t do more. She knows if she tells John, they’ll abandon this mission and be on a flight home in a heartbeat. It won’t do anyone any good until they know more, until the 141 are in a safer position. 

She hates keeping it from them, but it’s for everyone’s safety. 

Especially if what she uncovered is true. 

She can hardly believe it herself. Her eyes keep flickering to the files her team had uncovered, the truth finally spilling out about everything. There is no initiative. There was never going to be an initiative. They were all pawns being placed for a move like this, for a situation that calls for such drastic measures. 

The last few hours have hardly felt real. 

“Bravo 0-6 to Watcher 0-1 how copy?” John’s voice comes through the comms, almost startling her. 

She still has a job to do. 

“Loud and clear, Bravo 0-6.” She says, clearing her throat. 

“Kate, there’s nothing here.” 

Kate blinks at the screen, at the map that had been carefully laid out with exact points, confirmed visuals. “Come again?” She says, praying it was her overactive mind that misheard. 

“The warehouse is empty. There’s no sign of any missile having been here in the first place.” John says. 

What? Kate flips through files, scanning every bit of intel that had been given to her. 

They’re all pawns. 

There was no missile. There was no real intel. A red herring.

Separating the pack leaves members vulnerable. Take away the four and leave the omega alone and unprotected. Separate her from the one person left to keep watch over her, leave her vulnerable. 

It’s what they wanted all along. That was always the plan. 

“John, there’s...” She trails off as dots begin appearing on the map. She zooms in, her stomach dropping. “Four vehicles approaching your position.” 

“Friendly?” He asks, but she can hear the doubt in his voice. He knows they’re not. He’s done this enough times. 

“I don’t think they're meeting you for a picnic.” She says, trying to identify the vehicles. 

“We’ll dig in here. Keep them from getting in.” John says. 

“John...” Kate says. She should tell him. She needs to tell them before something goes wrong. If this was all a trap, then things will go wrong, yet she can’t bring herself to say it. Not yet. “Don’t come out of there in a body bag.” 

“Don’t give up hope on us yet.” He says before the line goes dead. 

Kate lets out a long breath, rubbing her eyes. It’s going to be a long next few hours. 

Your head is pounding. There’s a throbbing behind your eyes beating in time with your heart. It hurts, a quiet groan leaving your lips. The world is spinning and you haven’t even opened your eyes. Your entire body feels like it’s twisting and turning, your organs wringing themselves like a washcloth. You’re going to be sick, but you can’t even manage to lift your head. 

Everything feels heavy. Nothing is moving despite your brain telling it to. There’s a deep ache in your muscles and joints like you’ve been immobile for far too long and need to stretch. Your limbs try to move, yet nothing happens except a sharp pain in your left calf. You let out another groan, fingers curling at the sharp pain that radiates up through your leg to your hip. The throbbing behind your eyes intensifies as your head is moved, tilting up before falling backwards weakly.  

“Easy.” A voice coos at you, easing your head back straight. It flops to the side, none of your muscles coordinating like they should. “...know...dose...twice.” 

The words float in and out, muffled like you’re underwater and just barely bobbing above the surface. You do feel a bit like you’re underwater, trying to kick up to the surface of consciousness. Something is holding you under, keeping you from reaching that surface. 

There’s a hand on your face holding your head up as your muscles fight to activate enough to hold it up themselves. The hand is warm against your skin, rough and calloused. There’s two textures, skin and rough fabric against your face. Awareness begins to come back to you slowly, your mind clearing the fog the longer you’re awake. Your body hurts, muscles aching. You try to move your arms but you can't, something biting into the skin of your wrists as you turn them. 

“Don’t hurt yourself.” The voice says, calloused fingers brushing your arm. 

You flinch at the touch, muscles contracting painfully before they relax. You let out another groan, your brows pinching as you try to get your eyes to open. The haze hasn’t entirely lifted from your brain yet as you slowly become more aware of your surroundings. It’s cold where you are, goosebumps forming on your skin. It’s uncomfortable, your body too exposed. You want a sweatshirt, a blanket, something to keep the cold away. Something tickles in the back of your brain as you begin to pick up scents, several all at once, meshed together. It’s overwhelming, too much information flooding your brain all at once. 

The motion is automatic and instinctual as you turn your face to press into the hand on your cheek. You inhale deeply, trying to block out the overwhelming wave of senses, trying to get a sense of who it is in front of you, who is with you in the room. 

Woody. Soft wood. Cedar? It smells like a candle your mother used to burn. 

Sweet? Something sweet. Chocolate? Richer. Dark chocolate. 

Memories begin to float back as you inhale the scent. You know that scent. You’ve smelled it before. Your frown deepens as you hold your face there, nose pressed against the palm as your mind sluggishly digs through your hazy memory banks. You can’t even remember where you are or how you got there. 

“Good girl.” 

You know that voice. You’ve heard it before. Somewhere in the back of your mind it triggers something, some faded memory shoved deep into the depths of your memory bank. You dig for it, mining your sluggish brain as you try to figure out who it is, why it’s all so familiar. 

The other part of your brain focuses on your body, waking your muscles back up. With it comes the pain, the achiness: the throbbing in your calf, the pulsing behind your eyes, the ache in your muscles and joints. There’s a light somewhere in front of you, bright and shining through your eyelids. You don’t want to open them. It feels wrong, the bright light right in your face. You don’t like it. 

You pull your face away from the hand, your head drooping forward slightly as the muscles in your neck finally begin to engage. The scent is wrong. It’s not the right kind of wood. There’s no damp earth after a spring rain, no scent of petrichor. The touch isn’t right. It’s not soft enough, not warm enough. 

It’s not your alpha. 

The tingling in the back of your brain intensifies as you shoot into hyper-awareness from your sluggish state. Your instincts are awake, suddenly overwhelmed by the explosion of scents and sounds. There’s voices all around, quiet and hushed, but they might as well be yelling in your ears. There’s so many scents blending together until you can’t tell one from the other. 

Except the one in front of you. 

Cedar. Dark Chocolate. 

Memories crawl forward from the recesses of your mind. Childhood. Texas. Summer heat. The charcoal in the barbeque. Cedar and chocolate always too close. You hated it. You’ve always hated that smell.

Your eyes force themselves open, eyelids peeling up like a damp window that’s been closed for a decade. The window had been hard to open, yet you managed it with the adrenaline pumping through your body. 

Your heart rate picks up at the thought, some fear you can’t quite conceptualize yet in your half-aware state burning in the back of your mind. You breathe heavily as you fight to get your eyes open, blinking against the obtrusive light. Fluorescent, too bright to be comfortable. 

White walls, bright lights. Boots on the floor. 

Your pack. 

Where is your pack? Where is your alpha? 

Where are you?

Finally your eyes open, squinting against the bright light. You can’t see anything, the light directly in your eyes. It burns, tears gathering on your lids as you fight against the oppressive, blinding sun being directed at you. 

Voices float in the background and suddenly the light is turned away. You blink away the bright spots left in your vision, a couple tears falling uncontrollably. Rough fingers wipe them off your cheeks almost tenderly, but not tender enough.

Rough fingers across your skin, gripping you tightly, anchoring you. A soft voice floats through the air, rough yet comforting with the soft words calming the panic in you.

It’s not right. 

Nothing is right. 

You’re breathing heavily as you finally get your eyes fully open, the muscles in your neck contracting as you slowly lift your head. There’s someone kneeling in front of you, arm draped across their knee. They’re like a shadow, hidden mostly from view as you blink clarity into your eyes. Your brows pinch into a frown again as you blink, your gaze focusing on the face in front of you. 

You know that face. 

“There she is.” 

You know that voice. 

It’s been years since you heard it last. Memories slam into you in an onslaught, memories from your childhood, back when things were fine, things were normal, things were as they should be. 

Family. Texas. Alphas.

Cedar and chocolate. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, blinking in shock. Your brows furrow in confusion, your still foggy brain trying to piece everything together. 

You know him. 

It’s been years but you’ll never forget. 

The light brown hair, bright blue eyes, dimples indenting with that too-friendly grin. 

Your mouth is dry, your tongue heavy as it opens, forming the name on your lips. The name. It comes out in a croak, barely audible and understandable, but laced with confusion and disbelief. 

“Phil?” 

NEXT ->

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[bimbosandbubbles]

Truth or Dare?

Starring Bully Gojo and Geto

Synopsis- It’s freshmen year of college and for Gojo and Geto the year has been a little too boring—sure it’s only the first semester but c’mon it’s their first year being university students so why not make the year unforgettable? And for that reason they find themselves playing a dangerous game of truth or dare with their friends—a game that led them to YOU,their best form of oh so interesting entertainment.

Warning’s-noncon,dubcon,spitting,hair pulling,slapping,slight fingering,misogynistic behavior,filming noncon, double penetration,extreme humiliation,pussy eating,heavy degrading, creampie,breeding kink, multiple sexual scenes(not really sex happening),stalking,yandere,obsessive behaviors,thigh fucking, fatphobia,abuse of power(Gojo’s money and Geto’s connections),pussy slapping,emotional manipulation,blackmail,shoe licking,shoe fucking,extremely humiliating acts ,hairy pussy,stalking,rimming,loss of virginity,EXTREMELY SADISTIC BEHAVIOR!! TW THIS IS ALL FICTION! ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ CHUBBY READER!

Wc-7.8k(Guys I cut off 6k more words to shorten the fic😭)

“Truth or dare?”

A white haired man turns to a man with long raven black hair,"What do you think Sugu'? Truth or dare?"

The male hums in thought,"I think truth,after all it's only the beginning of the game." Snow like hair bobs in acknowledgment,"Okay,we pick truth."

A wide smirk grows on the integrators face,"How many bitches have you fucked together?" Geto chuckles,"Do you always have to be so uncouth Naoya?" The said man shrugs,"That doesn't matter,just answer the fuckin question."

Geto decides to humor the man,for his and his best friends entertainment mostly. "Gojo how many would you say?" Gojo sighs—lazily leaning his lanky yet muscled frame against the back of a beat up couch. "Since we get here...uhhh probably like four. In high school probably like six."

"You've ever filmed any of em?" Naoya asks. Geto raises a neatly done brow up,"Why are you asking?" Naoya rolls his eyes,"I'm just askin there's no real reason behind it."  Gojo looks at Geto from the side of his eye,"Sugu' it's not that big of a deal to answer. Plus it's not like we have filmed any of them."

"I guess." Mutters Geto. Gojo loudly claps his hands and paints on a goofy smile onto his face. "Anyways...Naoya truth or dare?" The man sits back in wonder before answering,"Dare."

"Okay! I dare you to call the one girl in your phone that you'd have to be paid like a million dollars to ever fuck anddddd you have to ask her to send a pic of herself." Naoya voices annoyedly,"How the hell do I get her to send a pic of herself?"

Geto smartly suggests,"Lie.Make something up." The man with highlighted hair smirks,"That shouldn't be hard. She's a dumb bitch anyways."

Naoya scrolls through his contacts list and spots a contact dubbed "Piggy." Geto and Gojo lean over his shoulders to see the view and both of them wince once seeing the name. "She's fat?" Gojo asks. Naoya snickers,"Oh fuck yeah! She's fucking big as hell! I could never stick my dick in her."

Gojo chuckles,"I couldn't fuck a fat girl,seems like too much work." Geto adds on,"Yeah they're not really my type either....there's just too much everywhere for me." Naoya agrees as he presses on the contact,"They're all usually fucking ugly anyways. So it doesn't really matter."

Noaya's fingers press on the call symbol while he lets out one final chuckle. He presses one finger to his lips,signaling the pair of friends to shut up.  The man finally calls and the phone rings three times before it finally picks up.Naoya makes sure to put the phone on speaker. "Hello?" A sleepy voice calls out. "Hello (Reader)."

"Naoya what're you calling me so late for? I thought we finished everything for the project?" Naoya rolls his eyes,"Yeah well our introduction project isn't finished yet,I still need you to do something." Geto and Gojo don't miss the biting tone he speaks to you in. "Oh um well..I'm sorry I didn't think I missed anything."

"She sounds cute." Gojo whispers in the ravenettes ear. "Mmm." Geto hums in agreement.  "Yeah you should be sorry. But luckily for you  I'm nice so I'll allow you to still do it."

"Thank you? But anyways what do you need me to do?" Naoya smiles while looking back at the men," I need a picture of you." For a moment there's static silence—a silence that's riddled with confusion. "Umm why do you need a picture of me? Our project has nothing to do with ourselves."

"It's to prove our teamwork to the professor uhh how well we got along and shit like that." It's quiet until Naoya receives a dinging notification. "There you go,bye." The phone loudly hangs up while Naoya's jaw clenches in anger. "Fucking bitch hung up before I could."

"That doesn't matter show us the pic." Gojo says impatiently. "Fineee." The male opens up his messages and soon as he does he snickers. "I don't know why she tried to send me cute a one,she looks fucking stupid." Wrong. Naoya was so fucking wrong.

You don't look fucking stupid...you look so fucking cute. Your have such a pretty face—a face that needs to be came on. Those adorable fucking pudgy cheeks are just begging to be decorated with cum. And fuck those pretty lips you got—both Geto and Gojo just wanted to stick their dicks in your mouth.

They can't even see your body in the picture but they just know it's so fuckable. What do you have a cute pudge hanging down—a pouch of flesh keeping your pussy warm? Do you have warm doughy thighs that their fingers will just sink into the moment they touch the flesh? You just look so...soft. So wonderfully soft—plenty of soft sweet palpable skin just begging to be marked by them.

But despite Gojo's and Geto's shared thoughts—the lustful and wanton thoughts they wouldn't say that they want to fuck the ever living life out of you. They wouldn't disagree with Naoya saying you look fucking stupid. They wouldn't even admit they think you're attractive. Why? Because admitting a mere few minutes ago that you wouldn't fuck a fat girl and then switching up isn't the best look.

So what do the pair say when Naoya says that? Do they disagree and defend you? Do they admit the pure desire they have to want to be inside you? No they say," You're right she looks weird,let's just move onto the next round."

━━━━

"I didn't just leave her on the frats lawn! I at least gave her some cash to get herself home." Naoya proudly states.

"Wow,Noaya thank you so much for not being the worlds biggest douche." Geto states sarcastically.

"Whatever, don't act like you two aren't assholes yourselves. You may fool a bunch of bitches but I know how you really are."  Geto peers at Gojo,the man beside him. They both give each other a knowing look—a shared thought surging through the kept gaze. A gaze that screamed,"We're aware of what dicks we can be." Huge dicks who have left girls high and dry after telling them they love them—spewing lies straight from hell just to get their cocks wet a few times.

But are they really dicks if no one really cares to point out they are? Are they really assholes when women flock towards them even though it's known they'll only use them like a human fleshlight? They could thank their good looks,popularity,and Gojo's plentiful wealth for never being confronted for just how cruel they could really be.

Geto smirks,"I guess you could say we are assholes but at least we appear to be nice ones." Gojo hums,"Mhm but anyways it's your turn to ask us."

Naoya sits there,clutching his face in devious thought. "If you guys pick dare,you won't pussy out with anything I say,right?"

"Nah as long as it's nothing too illegal." Gojo answers. "Good cause I got something in mind. Truth or Dare?" The two best friends stare at each other once more,silently agreeing on an answer,"Dare."

Naoya laughs,acting like he just had the best idea in the whole world. "You fuckers set yourself up. This is going to be sooo funny." Gojo rolls his eyes,"Yeah,yeah,just get to the damn dare."

"I dare you to fuck with little miss piggy for me." Naoya cruelly states. "That girl you just showed us?" Gojo asks."  The question had a little too much enthusiasm,too much excitement for some girl he said looked weird. Hopefully it went unnoticed by Naoya though. "Yes that bitch."

"We'll do it but lemme ask why you wanna bother her?" Geto questions. The male shrugs,"Do I need a reason? She's annoying." Geto hums,"Alright I guess that's a good enough answer. But what's on the table for fucking with her?" The white haired male perks up at that,"Ooo yeah? How much can we bother her?"

"I don't really give a shit about what you do to her. Just ruin her,make her miserable. The only thing I want is some evidence that you're doing at least something." 

Make her miserable,huh? Ruin her? Does that include every part of you? Because Geto and Gojo had something wonderful in mind...just for lil ole you.

"Oh yeah,we can definitely do that." They both remark.

━━━━

"Okay,I think this is the last book I need." You whisper to yourself. See,today is a good day! Why? Because this is the day you're almost done researching for a extremely tedious paper. That means for just a few days you wouldn't have to shove countless information down your throat anymore.

So naturally your chubby hands reaches to grab the book that's placed on the fourth shelf. Just as your finger grazed the spine of the book a tall figure grabs it from behind you. Quickly you turn and see a raven haired man,staring at the book with faux interest.

"Umm, I'm sorry I was gonna grab that...it's really important that I have it." You say politely. The male raises a thin brow,"Is it not important for me too? I might need it even more than you do." Immediately you feel yourself heat up from embarrassment," Oh no no!  I didn't mean it like that—I just really really need that book. Im so sorry if I came off uncaring."

Cute. Geto's just starting the fun with you and he already wants to stuff his dick in your mouth. You don't even need to worry about some dumb book,you could just warm his cock all day. Besides the way your dressed right now it's like you want him to tear your clothes off and fuck you. Those denim shorts that are showing off those thick thighs and that damn thin white tank top you got on really shows a lot he wants to see. The pudge of your tummy just clings to the fabric so deliciously—it's tempting so tempting for the man to just reach out and grip the pudge but he resists the urge.

But still despite how cute he finds you,he still needs to make your little life unbearable. So he says,"Well I need this book more." With that he "kindly" smiles and walks off. He leaves you there,mouth agape and eyes wide. Did he really just—DID HE JUST TAKE THE BOOK?

Angrily you call out,"Hey! I need that book." The man continues walking,ignoring you completely. With a mission you charge after the male,keeping his speedy pace until you bump right into someone. Broken from the determined haze you were just in you look and see the person you slammed into.

It's odd,you swear no one was in front of you before and then suddenly someone just came in front of you. No matter how weird it really is though,apologizing and catching up with the book thief is more important.

"Omg I'm so sorry! Are you okay! I was just in a rush—" The very tall man you just bumped into places a long finger on your lips. The sheer boldness of the action instantly shutting you up. "I don't wanna hear it. Ya know,you should definitely be more careful. People are not as nice as me."

He leans down,shortening his noticeable height ,"But since I'm sooo nice all I'm gonna ask if you to beg on your knees for my forgiveness." The hell? Who does this guys think he is? The president? You weren't gonna beg for forgiveness just for bumping into someone?! Hell no!

" Look I'm sorry, but I'm not doing all that just for bumping into you! Don't you hear how fucking crazy you sound?" You snatch his finger away from your lips and cross your arms angrily. He chuckles,"Oh so you wanna act all tough? Fine,I didn't wanna threaten you this early,that was gonna be some fun for later but since you're a lil stubborn I guess the hard way is for you."

Your brows pinch together in frustration and confusion. Who is this guy? Acting like he's all high and mighty? Can he even threaten you when he doesn't know you? Yeah,right. You're sick of this already.

You attempt to move past the male,too sick and tired of precious time being taken away from you. But you're stopped by a veiny large hand that's securely wrapped your wrist. He yanks you to his chest,"Ya know,it's not very nice to walk away while someone's talking to you.I thought you were a polite girl." His warm breath travels all the way to the back of your neck. It's oddly...intimate and sexual for someone you just encountered.

"Be a good girl and beg or else I'll get you out of this university so fucking fast and then I'll tell someone in every single university in the radius you're a fucking cheat. I can go even farther than that if that doesn't scare you enough." He mutters. Chills run across your spine—it's scary,the threat,it holds so much weight but no way some guy you just bumped into has the power to do that,right?

"Y-You can't do that!" The exclamation is a unsteady one,you yourself not even believing that. For some reason this stranger just oozes so much effortless authority—so much power that's unexplainable. It's confusing but still it instills some type of fear in you. "Oh can't I?" His tone is cocky—assured fully in just what exactly he's capable of. Scary—it's scary how confident he's in ruining your educational career.

"Are you taking me a little serious now,hmm? Do you think you should take my good grace and get on your knees already?" It's no big deal,right? If you just get on your knees now,you'd probably never see the man again. This university is big and no way the man would make an attempt to find you—a complete stranger.

Would a little humiliation be so bad if you never see him again? "Are you? Or are you gonna just stand there like an idiot?" Nervously you gulp before facing the man and sinking down to your knees. As you level yourself at his feet you can't help but stare at the rich brown leather that his shoes are made of.

You look up at him and instantly Gojo's glad he chose to his dark sunglasses today. He could feel his pupil dilate as soon so you kneeled for him. Everything about you looked sooo good on your knees—those pretty lips parted slightly because of nerves—your thick thighs squishing together and fuck those gorgeous tits that are just peeking out of your tank top,just begging to be fondled with his big hands.

"Are you gonna start begging or do I gotta force your mouth to move too?" You shake your head no and gulp down a lot of pride and self respect. "Please uhhh—" you pause to search for the man's name. "Gojo. It's Gojo."

"Gojo,please forgive me. It was a mistake and I'm so so sorry." You think your apology is good enough but what you think isn't always right. The man scoffs as a big hand completely palms the whole crown of your head—pushing your body to bend straight down. The tip of your nose kisses the carpeted floor of the library.

" Ah,ah, You're supposed to lean all the way down like a good girl,yeah? Now do it again." Your clammy and stubby hands angrily and tearfully grip the fine hair of the carpet. This is just so...humiliating it hurts every ounce of self respect you have contained in your body.

"Gojo,please forgive me. I'm so sorry." He hums and places his large hand on your head,"I forgive you...for now." With that the man removes his hand and quickly announces his exit. "Thank you for the apology,don't be so clumsy next time."

You watch as his long limber legs make their way farther and farther away from you. Your nose still kisses the carpet—a reminder of the humiliation that was just acted on by the man casually strolling away. The humiliation being so damn demeaning you no longe care for retrieving your much needed book back.

But it would be okay,right? It would be okay cause you'll never see Gojo again. You haven't seen him before and you won't see him again.

You could just move on from this right? Is the thought you have as your eye stay trained on his brown leather shoes.

━━━━

Have you ever been more more wrong before? So irritatingly wrong?

Because both the mysterious man who unfortunately learned is Geto, and Gojo from the library have not left you alone since.

Everywhere you go there they are! Always calling you mean names,like slut or whore. Always taking away your stuff away from you. Always threatening you. And worse—always finding you.

And that is the exact reason why you're stuck between the two—pushed against a random wall in a hallway. "You wanna runaway from me and Geto,some more? Huh,(Reader)?"

You shake your head rapidly and squeak as Gojo's large hand reaches out and grips your tucked pudge that's hidden well within the high waisted material. "D-Don't grip me like that!" You squeak. "Like what? Like a slut? Cause you are a little slut." Gojo remarks.

"I'm not a slut!" Your words are met with chuckles,true genuine laughter for something that wasn't even a joke. "Mmm then why are you always with those lil dorks after hours? You prolly let them cum in you. You prolly let them spit in your pussy and mouth,don't you slut?"

You start to tear up and resist Gojo's grip but it only gets tighter. "Maybe you wouldn't see me hanging out with my friends if you guys weren't always stalking me! Just leave me alone! You don't even know me! I've never even done anything to you!"

"You think we're stalking you? You think we're genuinely interested in someone like you?" Geto chuckles. "Yeah,we know you're a little slow but to think that is on another level of delusion."  Gojo adds. Liars,the both of them know that they're watching you. Keeping tabs on every single move you make,every person you talk to,every time you go out,anything—just so they know when to strike. They told themselves it's not cause they like what they do to—they don't like seeing you beg and plead,they don't like humiliating to the brink of tears—absolutely not. Liars.

"Oh and you've never done anything to us? Hmm,I can remember you fighting for that book pretty hard. I think you may have pushed me,right Gojo? You saw her push me?" Gojo hums,"Hmmm,yeah I swear I saw her. She was so mean to you. And not to mention she didn't even wanna apologize to me for rudely bumping into me."

"What the fuck??! I didn't even push him! I know for a fact I didn't! And last time I checked you just randomly popped up and bumped into me!" You make sure to face backwards and points towards Gojo. "Ah,Ah she's got a little potty mouth,doesn't she Gojo?"

"Mhm,that's not very ladylike (Reader)." Gojo says. "We can't have that,can we?" Behind you the white haired male shakes his head. Gojo's lengthy fingers dig into your tummy even more,sinking the dull tips of his nails deeper.

"You should learn not to talk like that but don't worry Gojo and I will help you learn,m'kay?" How? How—can someone look so kind,so calm while plotting to do something humiliating to you? It doesn't' matter how or why because Geto is still standing over you—kind smile and welcoming eyes gently intimidating you.

"So,open your mouth like a good girl for me and say ahh!" Geto demands. You shake your head no and quickly tuck your lips together. He tuts—disapproving of your stubbornness. "You wanna make it hard for yourself—Fine be that way then. But you will open your mouth for me."

Geto's relative distance to you shortens as he walks closer and closer to you—pushing your body against Gojo's even more. "Gojo pull up her shirt."

"No—NO! D-Don't!" You thrash against Gojo but once more he tightens his grip on your pudge. "You should've listen to Sugu the first time." Gojo mutters as he lifts up your shirt revealing a pastel pink bra. The glasses adorning man whistles,"Is that lace? Who are you wearing that for? Hmm? Is it for me and Sugu,little slut?"

"N-No!" You whimper. "Oh so it's for somebody else?" Geto asks. "No." You reply back. "Mmm so you're wearing something"—Geto's large hand reaches to pinch the strap of the bra—"this pretty just for no one to see it? I don't believe that."

"I think just for her lying you should give her double punishment." Gojo encourages. "Yeah? I think so too. Lil slut won't learn if we aren't a little hard on her."

"Gojo make her open her mouth." Geto says as if they share the same brain—having the same thoughts riddling their in synced minds. Long fingers trace their way down your tummy,teasing the beginning of where your high waisted pants start until finally a loud gasp collapses off your tongue when they're pulled down—revealing the smooth fat that rests on your middle.

You think he's gonna start groping your boobs but instead the pale hands begin gripping your tummy—kneading the skin oh so well that his fingers mush into it. "Oh!" You gasp. And it's cute ,so cute that Gojo's dicks throbs in his loose fitting jeans. Would you make that noise when he puts it inside you? When he makes you swallow his spit? How about when he makes you hump his big thigh while in public?

Gojo's taken away from his thoughts once he hears Geto's familiar voice. "Mmm you got her to open her mouth." Geto hums in approval,"Look at how good her mouth looks open. I think she really is a little slut."

The black haired man pulls your cheeks apart and sticks his middle appendage in your mouth—your tongue crashing against the skin like a giant wave. "Mhmpp!" You move against Gojo once more,droplets of salty tears starting to pour out of you. "Shhh don't fight...take your punishment."

You watch in horror as Geto puckers his lips and translucent liquid drips down his lips—realizing that his lips start getting closer and closer to you.

Until finally you feel wet—degrading liquid coat your lax tongue. The cool saliva coats your mouth,traveling the whole expanse of your open cavern.

"Swallow." You know it's not a question or even a pushy request—it's a command. A reminder that you're under their thumbs like a mouse who's constantly running away from a cat. It's sickening so sickening—so beneath you to be treated like an object yet you find yourself swallowing your pride and gulping down the spit.

"Good whore." Geto mutters. His long finger pops against your inner cheek as he takes it out of your mouth. He pats your chubby cheek and wipes your saliva on your half exposed chest.

"Mmm this kinda bored me." Gojo remarks. Geto hums and backs away from you,"Yeah this pig is kinda not entertaining me anymore. Wanna get something to eat?"  The tall man that was positioned behind you snakes his to way over to  Geto.

Leaving you to watch as they casually saunter off but Gojo suddenly stops his big strides. "Oh and (Reader),"his tones lowers a bit—scarily so,"don't let us see you hanging out with those guys again. Or we'll actually do something to you."

You stand there in shock—shirt ridden up to your chest and pants flashing bits of your panties. Gojo smiles at you,but it's not a pleasant one—a smile that makes you want to run and hide. They both continue walking and you watch,counting and waiting the steps to see if they're far enough so you can quietly sob.

The moment they get far enough you slide down the cool wall and break out in a array of tears. All you can think is why you? What'd you ever do to anyone to have your life be meddled with so cruelly?

WHY YOU?

━━━━━━━━

"I regret not taking pics." The white haired man pouts. Geto chuckles," There's always next time."

"But she only looked like that awhile ago. Her bra looked so pretty that day. I wished I filmed her swallowing your spit. She looked so fucking cute Sugu...I just wanna stick my dick in her mouth. I wanna make her embarrassed like that again,so fucking bad."

The male smiles amusedly at his friends whines,however he feels the same,he wishes to see you like that all over again. "I think we should  give her a visit soon. We haven't seen her in like what two weeks?" Geto and Gojo knows that's not true,they have seen you actually but you haven't seen them. They always check up on you at certain points during the day—making sure you're listening to them about the people you're hanging out and it makes them so damn proud when they see you alone and avoiding all your male friends. You're such a obedient girl.

"Oh thank God! This time I actually wanna do something with her,I've been thinking about what she feels like. And I want you to film it. "

Gojo says enthusiastically. "What do you have in mind?" The bright blue eyed man smiles widely,"You'll see."

━━━━━

"(Reader) are you sure you don't wanna come and watch a movie with us?" The kind voice halts your motions of packing up for the day.

"Nah,I'm sure. I'm gonna catch up on homework so I need the extra time." You explain with a smile. "Alright,but text me if you change your mind. The movie doesn't start for a few more hours."

You nod and wave as your kind classmate walks out the door. You're about done packing up until your trusty mechanical pencil begins rolling down the rows and isles of the seats.

"Dang it." You sigh and annoyedly crouch down—following the pencils straight arrow path. You take tiny steps in order for your bigger body to keep up with the quick pace of the rolling writing device.

Finally it stops at the third row—leaning against the leg of a mahogany chair. You bend down to get it with a smile etched on your face but as you reach to grab it a hauntingly familiar brown leather shoe is planted in front of you.

Suddenly you forget to breath—fear and anxiety grasping the natural function away from you. That same fear making you incapable of looking up to see intimidating bright blue irises.

It's quiet—too quiet and that's what makes it worse for you. You feel like prey—being teased,chased,stalked on, by two superior animals who are waiting to take the final kill.

"Do you wanna stay there on your knees for me or are you gonna greet me?" Jolly is the only way you can describe Gojo's voice—which makes his words only 10x times worse to hear. Ever since you encountered him in the library and attempted to forget him all you got was all too much of him. After the incident you've constantly been hearing about the "Great Gojo", the impossibly handsome trust fund baby of the university. The Gojo who's cute and loud and funny—it makes you wish you knew him due to different circumstances so you could admire him just like everyone else.

No,you had to remind yourself that this isn't the case. Instead you'd get bullied and assaulted by him and his friend Geto.

"Hello?? Is anyone there?" Gojo bends down and prods at your forehead,roughly poking it. "Do you think she heard me Sugu?" Gojo asks. "I dunno let's see." Geto's large hand suddenly rushes to your face and grips the warm flesh together. Both of the handsome men sneer at you and condescendingly share a glance with one another.

"I think someone is home but they're too shy to answer."  Geto peers down at you before he whispers,"Shhh it's okay,me and Toru just missed you so much. We just need you to be good for us,m'kay?"  You look up at him with wonder—confused by the oh so sweet tone of his voice. It almost makes you feel safe and cared for—almost is the keyword here. Because in only a few seconds your hair is suddenly yanked,having long fingers tangled in it. "I expect an answer when I say anything to you." Geto grunts into your ear.

"Y-Yes!" You whimper out. A warm wet kiss is placed on your chubby cheek as the black hair

man praisingly remarks,"Good job!" 

"Since you're gonna be for good for Gojo and me I want you to do something, okay?" You nod and mumble a fearful okay. "Good,now take off your panties and give them to Gojo."

You gulp down a wad of spit as you nervously and shamefully stand up and start quickly sliding off your panties. By the time you get the plain white cotton undies to your ankles Gojo's expectant hand is waiting for you—and like he was expecting you hand the worn material to him.

He places the pair of panties into his pocket and grins at you happily.  

Geto's voice rings out,"Now get on his shoe." Snapped out of your fearful daze you yell,"WHAT? I'm not doing that! That's so gross and unsanitary." Gojo pouts,"What's wrong with my shoe? It's not good enough for you?"

"No! That's so gross! No way in hell am I doing that!" You attempt to stand up right and walk away from the pair but a large hand pushes you back down. The force of the body part making you whimper by the sheer power. "Nu uh Geto already filmed you taking off your panties for me. If you walk away we'll have no choice but to show everyone at this university what a dirty slut you are. How would you like that,hmm?"

You mouth flaps open in shock,since when did Geto have a chance to do that?? When did he even take out his phone? You turn and there you see the cellular device pointed right at you. You thought you were screwed then but now...they actually have something way worse to use against you.

Gojo smiles at your realization," So now are you gonna put that pussy on my shoe?" You look up at him and defeatedly turn to still see that Geto's filming and you simply just give in.

You waddle closer to Gojo's foot and set your bare pussy on the rich material—the thick pubes on your mound making contact with the shoe. You can't help but gasp by how cool it feels,it feels new,almost good.

"Move." Gojo says. You look up at the man and gasp once you see and hear how different he looks. His voice sounds less high—lacking the usual teasing and playful tone he talks in. And his eyes—his normally bright blue eyes are now toned down,muddled with dark lust and eagerness.

Your clit bumps and grinds on the expensive laces as you try to set a pace on your own. You huff and whine at the oddly good sensation.

You lean your face on Gojo's pants,slightly biting into the material to hush down your pleasured noises. It feels good because it's so degrading and so wrong—yet you can't deny how wet begin to you feel the more you thrust against the man.

"Mmmf!" Is the noise you're making as you hide your face into his legs,teary eyes closed in hated bliss and ashamed mouth taut open in pleasure. How disgusting you are—enjoying fully how good this is making you feel. You're riding a man's shoe for gods sake, but you can't bring yourself to care anymore. Not when your poor hole is opening and closing for nothing. Not when you you can feel four eyes staring at you get yourself off.

"Look at you,such a fat slut. And you tried to act like you didn't want me and Sugu's attention. Dirty slut." You hear a wet noise of Gojo's mouth right before warm hot spit lands on your forehead. You go to wipe it away but Geto's hand grips your wrist,"Don't,you'll ruin your pretty face. Leave it."

You nod and silently gasp once you see the angry bulges of the two men. It makes you even wetter once you see how aroused this made them. Geto seems to noticed your focus gaze,"Aww do you wanna actually see some dicks in real life? Hmm,is that what you want whore?"

Your mouth almost forms the word yes until you remember these men aren't some friends with benefits or boyfriends—no they're bullies who enjoy seeing you struggle. So with that reminder you shake your head no and go to hide your face in Gojo's leg only to feel a hot sting run across your plump cheek. "Liar. Gojo get her off your foot. I'm gonna show her something."

"Aww but I was enjoying watching her! At least let her clean the mess up." Geto rolls his eyes,"Alright,make it quick." Gojo smiles happily before he peers down on you,"Lick." He's not specific because you already know what he wants you to place your tongue on. You stare down where you placed your cunt at and feel grossed out. However,you know one way or another you're going to have to lick his shoe. And you'd rather not get another burning slap from Geto.

So you prod your tongue out,lapping at your own juices placed on the man's costly shoe.

You taste yourself and the taste of oddly wood like leather. It taints your palate,making you scrunch your face in distain as you finish the task. You look up at Gojo and he seems so enthralled—his chest is heaving and his pink lips are slightly agape in surprise? You can't tell but he just looks so fascinated by you. "Wow,you really are a slut." He breathlessly chuckles.

"Mmm,she really is. Anyway take her to the desk Gojo,make sure she's bent over."  Without warning Gojo pulls you by your underarms and walks you to the desk. He pushes you down onto it,his hand presses down on your roll adorned back to keep your stomach flat against the desk. You feel him move from behind you,changing his position to be in front of you.

Suddenly you feel a warm hand graze against your dimpled ass—long fingers sinking into the supple flesh. "Now since you wanna lie and act like a fucking prude Imma make you see how badly you want our dicks."

For a few seconds you're left waiting to see what happens. It's suspenseful so suspenseful that you're even staring at Gojo in anticipated wonder. THACK! Is all Gojo hears along with a pained cry.Hot tingles flows though out your pussy—burning sensation fleeting in the wet organ.

"That's what happens when you're not being honest. Your lil pussy gets punished. If you want it stop I just need you to be honest with me. Say you want our dicks inside you."

Your bottom lip trembles pathetically,"I want your dicks inside me." Another harsh slap rains down on your cunt. "Again! You're not saying it like you mean it." This time you force your voice to be louder,"I want your dicks inside me!" Geto leans forward until his warm breath can be felt on your face and his big hand yanks your head back. "Now look at the camera and say you want our dicks inside you."

You defeatedly look up at the iPhone camera held in Gojo's large hands,"I want your dicks inside me!" Geto let's go of your hair and stands straight,"Good cause we're gonna give it to you." Two hands spread your thighs open and something large and veiny fills the empty space between them. "But you don't deserve any dicks inside you yet. You should've been honest the first time."

Geto grabs your supple waist and grips your tummy from below—with a snap of his hips he's brushing his cock against your inner thighs. Each thrust his rough and fast paced,forcing your head to bob up and down the desk. The graze of his dick against your throbbing clit pulls occasional whimpers and whines from your lips.

On the other side of desk Gojo unbuttons his pants—pale fingers rubbing against the expanse of his tight briefs. "Touch it." Gojo demands. You look up at him as you reach and feel the constant pulse of his cock. It's warm,so warm that the heat is comforting to your whole body in the cool lecture room.

You cup the thick shape protruding from the pure white material and start moving up and down. Gojo pushes himself into your hand—his once opened eyes closed in pleasure. The camera continues to peer down at you as your lays lip on his covered cock."S-Shit pull em down." The camera continues to peer down at you as your lays lip on his covered cock.You obey the pleading man,gripping the beginning of his underwear until his oozing cock is revealed.

A gasp falls from your lips at the sheer beauty of it. You stare points blank at his pre cum ridden tip that's oh so rosy. Your thumb finger graces the slit—going up and down on it,feeling his dick get harder and harder. Though, before you can really get a good grip on it one hard thrust from Geto pulls you away from him.

"Aww Sugu...you messed her up." Gojo whines. "Calm down you can use another part of her in a little bit. Switch spots with me." Gojo huffs but obeys Geto. The white haired places his still filming phone onto the desk. The ravenette ends up in front of you,his girthy dick resting on the desk right next to your face. "Have you sucked dick before you?" Geto asks. "N-No." You quietly reply.

"Mmm,of course you haven't. What loser would wanna get sucked off by you?" Liar. Geto's been dreaming of having those pretty lips surround his cock—of slapping your face and cradling those chubby cheeks you have on you. Choking you with his dick while you're all teary eyed and begging for air. But he doesn't hate you,no not at all,this was just a dare that he's happening to be enjoying.

So since it's your first he's gonna go easy on you. "Wait does that mean you've never been fucked before?" Gojo says excitedly. "Mhm." The confirmation makes Gojo's and Geto's dick jump. This is great! No one's been inside before so that really means you're really all theirs,their personal fuck toy who's only been fucked by them. After months of planning how they're gonna pop up into your life and destroy what you've known before,they're finally getting award.

"But that means I gotta stretch you out first,huh?" Gojo dejectedly says.  "I know just the way." Gojo sinks down go to his knees and pulls your waist closer to him. You feel cool air fan your warm pussy.  Lanky fingers spread your lips apart,pulling the coarse pubes away from the another. The sheer slick of your pussy laying and slicking them down to the mound.

"You surprisingly have a real pretty pussy. It's perfect for taking dick. Too bad no one else is really gonna want it." Untrue,Gojo really wants it. He's been wanting it since Naoya showed that picture to him. He's been craving the feeling of sinking into you and fulling you up. Craving to grip your round tummy as he pounds into you,drilling every single last sperm into you.

A long wet tongue licks the expanse of it,the sensation draining a surprised whine from you. "Mmm, while he warms you up Imma give you a lesson on how to suck." Geto leans down so his face his leveled with yours. He grabs Gojo's phone and points it towards him and you. He points out his index and pointer finger,pressing the digits against your lips. "What I want you to do is ease these into your mouth,okay?"

You nod and your mouth drops open as you feel Gojo's long tongue dig into your cunt. "Mmmf!" You whine.  You attempt to only take the tips of Geto's fingers but you rush them into your mouth as you feel more pleasure. Geto roughly taps your face,"I said ease,don't take it all in." You look up at him and just suck on the tips of his fingers. "Good girl,like that until I say so."

Gojo releases his tongue from your hole,instead prodding into your entrance with his fingers. He slips one in and then two,slowly scissoring you open with each curl of his fingers. Geto pushes more of his fingers into your mouth,almost reaching the back of your throat. You gag and attempt to move away from him only to have your head held in place. "Stay. Breath through your nose."

Taking his advice,you hurriedly stable your breathing. Your eyes bubble with tears and your face contorts in uncomfortableness.  Finally you're full of relief once Geto slides his fingers out of your mouth. "Good. I think you're ready for the real thing now,huh?"

"Y-Yes." Geto smiles,"Good slut,you learn so fast. You're meant to be a whore for us." Gojo pulls his fingers from your entrance. Geto faces the camera directly on you,"Are you ready to be fucked?" You look up at the camera—flashes of all the treatment you've endure from these two,constant examples of cruelty for no reason course through your memory's, yet you want so badly to mutter the words yes please.  You want to be fucked by them,want to know what it's like to have someone inside you.

"Please." Pathetic,weak but you don't care. You've given in one last time and your decision is rewarded with a almost loving kiss from Geto.  Gojo practically mounts you as he rests his muscular chest on you,he plants a kiss on the back of your neck that could be seen as a sweet praise or an apology for what he does next.

Without a single warning Gojo sheaths himself in you. You scream and writhe against the wooden desk but Gojo grips your violent body. "It's okay,just take it. Take it."

"I think it's my turn now." Geto looks down at you right before he plunges his cock into your mouth. Your eyes widen and you don't have time to process what's even happening. All you can do it feel. Feel the slowly pleasurable feeling inside your pussy and feel Geto's thick dick go in and out of your mouth.

The more you begin to feel the better all the overstimulation is. Suddenly Gojo's downright stretch feels so fucking wonderful as thrusts in you. Geto grips onto your hair,guiding your face to go deeper on his dick. "F-Fuck,good slut. Good whore. Imma cum if you keep letting me fuck your face like this."

Minute after minute,you can't catch a break. Not when Gojo's snaps his hips into you like a animal. Like he's so desperate to stay in you—drowned in the utter wet and warmness you offer him. "Good girl,good girl! This pussy feels good! So good!" The blue eyed man babbles.

You feel your oxygen slowly leave you and you roughly tap on Geto’s legs. He frees himself of your mouth and instead busies himself with slapping his heavy cock onto your face as you catch your breath. You can’t even do that though because Gojo reaches from under you and rubs your clit with a passion.

Moan upon moan leaves your mouth,like a broken record playing over and over again. Your song is becomes muffled once Geto finds his cock in your slack mouth. You quiver underneath Gojo as you feel a hot feeling tingle with in you.

You were gonna cum,so soon. With three snaps of Gojo hips you come undone and you begin to lose feeling everywhere. You feel like a lifeless fuckdoll,just a cocksleeve for Gojo and Geto’s dicks.

Gojo feels you cum and groans,”Shitttt I’m close.” Although Geto doesn’t agree verbally his thrusts in your mouth become more hurried and desperate. In and out is all you can feel.

It feels like hours of tortuous pleasure. A sick sadistic game being toiled onto your body. But it ends once hot,warm fluid courses in your walls. “Mmmmmm!” Is all the men can hear from you. Gojo pulls out and Geto pulls one last thrust into your mouth before he cums all the way down into your throat.

He grips his dick and slides it out. You hurry to swallow his seed and almost choke due to the quickness.

It’s quiet throughout the big classroom,only heavy breathing being heard. Geto looks down at you having Gojo’s phone in hand and travels the entirety of your body. He finally tosses it to him and the man catches it quietly.

Geto bends down so he’s once again on your level,”I’m telling you this now and I want you to know I mean it. You,your body,everything that makes you a person belongs to us.” Each word is said with such powerful emphasis that all you can do is silently agree.

An agreement that leads you down a interesting path with the pair.

━━━━━━

From a game of truth and dare,to bullying,to becoming fond of you ,all the way to fucking you every single day,to adorning you with the proper title of their girl.

The two have learned some truth from a juvenile game. They learned that they’ve should’ve never met you,should’ve never crossed paths with you because now they’re completely and utterly infatuated with you. Even if they cover it up with insults and threats,they’d go crazy if other people had you like how they have.

Reblogs area greatly appreciated🫶🏽🫶🏽!!

[hoseoksluna]

ROSÉ | jjk

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut

word count: 5.7k

summary: on your first dinner date, your boyfriend brings you a small gift—too bad you're too horny to appreciate it.

pinterest board: wine

warnings: a bit of drunkenness, a mention of inner child healing, oc teases jungkook and oc is horny as fuck, dom/sub dynamics, wine!jk, provider jk..., daddy issues, punishment, spanking, food used during intercourse, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), dirty talk, a mention of a sex toy & a mention of a plushie in a sexual context, raw sex, brattiness, jk and oc smoke together

note: OH GOD—IT'S FINALLY HERE. SLFJSLDFJS. A REQUESTED DRABBLE about wine!oc and jungkook. this was so fucking fun to write and i was so hot and bothered from this that i had to take a break............ yeah uhm anyways, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS. ENJOY READING AND LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK ANONYMOUSLY IN MY INBOX. I NEED YOUR THOUGHTS. PLS AND THANK YOU. ₊˚⊹♡

side note: jk in the first pic made me fucking die. and other things....

The rosy pink nectar has, undeniably, gone to your head. 

Your empty wine glass is illuminated by the setting sunlight spilling past your shoulder, reaching its yellow, warm fingers to the tips of your boyfriend’s that rest lazily on the white cloth of the table. You’re woozy, in a lighthearted mood—so much that even the world has lost its heft and all you can sense is the sluggish process of your absorption. You’re engrossed in the way the spring coalesces with the beginning of summer—in the warm evening wind ruffling your curls, tickling your bare shoulders, in the darkening hues of the sky, pinks and violets, in the gray smoke of Jungkook’s cigarette interlacing with the slightly sultry air. You can see it in his eyes, the unfolding of it all. And perhaps you’re tipsy or perhaps you’re just brazenly and foolishly falling in love, because you’re aware that if the man weren’t sitting in front of you, none of these things wouldn’t have caught your attention in such a devastatingly profound way. 

He has made you feel so safe. By simply and beautifully laying his feelings bare. To you and for you. Created a haven for you to dwell in, for you to grow in and explore all the dark and light corners of you that have merely seldom seen the face of the sun. How could you not indulge in a little bit of alcohol, when you’re protected in that place of security? Let your girlishness swim a little, refresh herself, enjoy herself?

You’re glowing. You always had been, but your shimmers have gained a new intensity to their twinkles, keeping Jungkook’s liquid stars warm and taken care of inside of you. Their blunt points have carved you into someone else entirely, too. Joyous, cool-headed and absolutely and irrevocably self-assured. Fearless. And his hands have reached deep within and caressed the head of your inner child, healing her and washing her clean, giving her everything she ever lacked. Love, attention, care and validation. Whenever you remember that you never wanted him to get a glimpse of your soul, bile rises in your throat and your stomach hurts.

He saved you. Healed you. Through and through. Gave you his control.

It stirs your never-ending awe that he has managed to do this in a month, and you want to celebrate it. You think now is quite the perfect occasion for it as it’s your first dinner date since you’ve become exclusive. Having spent most of your time at each other’s places fucking, partying and fucking some more, it’s nice to be out, alone with him, that is—and it’s nice as fuck to be out with your boyfriend. The sex has become so different with the label and the rawness of his feelings. And the thing about Jungkook that gets you the most, that strengthens the realm he invented for you, is that once his emotions overflow, the stream of its wine doesn’t stop pouring. The moment he confessed his love for you, ever since then you sense it expressed in everything he does—in the way he greets you in the day, in his tight, burning embrace, in the tenderness with which he holds your hand or kisses it, the relentless, great thought and consideration he puts in the choices he makes for you on the daily. Whether it’s the fatuous things he buys you that mean the world to you, the way he never neglects bunny and incorporates her in everything you do together or… the sex. 

Fuck, the sex alone has taken over your life so vividly and drastically that it consumes your brain. There, in that environment, is where the wine of his emotions is the raciest. He’s not ashamed to cry, letting those liquid pearls trickle down your collarbones, quenching the thirst of his liquid stars as he fucks you dumb and enjoys every second of it. He’s not afraid to be loud either. To talk you through your orgasm with even more care and detail than you were accustomed to in the past. 

He’s become boundless. And it’s the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen in your life. 

God, you’d be crazy not to let yourself fall for him—

“I got you dessert,” Jungkook husks, digging his fingers into the pocket of his pants while his other digits draw close to his mouth. He takes a drag of his cigarette, crinkling his eyes so the smoke wouldn’t get into them and you beam at him with a fire that’s more scorching than the sun’s ever been in centuries, heart doing somersaults at the thought of him thinking of you and spending money on you again. And, also, at how hot he looks while he smokes.

Your love language must be gift-giving. You don’t know what else to connect it to, the joy that envelops your entire being whenever he gives you something. It doesn’t even have to be expensive, nor does he have to pay for it at all. Drawings have become your favorite keepsakes—drawings of his Miffy bunny, drawings of flowers, of you. You’ve hidden them away in a box along with everything he’s ever brought you, except the white bunny ring because you wear it daily and one small, particular drawing that you’ve put inside your glittery phone case. 

A cutesy marker sketch of him and you. His arm around your shoulders. Bunny sitting on your laps in the middle, as if she were your own child. Cheeks big and bubbly, pink and twinkling. Your curls the way you wear them; his mullet. A perfect depiction of the pair of you. You gaze at it every single day—prefer to now put your phone face down because of it. 

You’re tracing it now with the pad of your finger as you wait for him to reveal your mystery gift to you. The bulby heads, the cheeks, Miffy’s ears. Jungkook puts out his cigarette, puffing out the smoke, away from you, and once he’s done, he taps the back of your hand. Turns it over and spreads out your fingers, inserting, at a snail's pace, something round but slender at the same time, smiling adoringly at you. 

What a sight to behold. It steals, fleetingly, your attention away from his hand. 

Slicked back mullet, twinkles taking laps in his soft eyes, blushed cheekbones and stretched, pouty mouth, shiny with his liquid love. Long neck that you’d like to devour now, the broadness of his shoulders and chest that could come second as a plain, dark beige shirt accentuates his hard work at the gym. 

Oh, fuck. Your nipples pebble against your carmine tube top. 

Jungkook withdraws his hand and with blurry eyes, you look at the thing he placed in your palm. 

Chupa Chups. Strawberry and cream. 

Your mouth parts and it’s a concoction of a gasp and a sound of endearment when the realization that he got you a lollipop sinks in. Your heart flips and does a head stand. Lips round into a pout, drunk eyes softening, its twinkles growing in size and light. It’s like he gave you something golden, when in fact it costs a few wons, but to you it’s exactly that. Something so precious. 

You give him an air kiss, bouncing in your seat in joy, fingers already destroying the wrapper. “Thank you so…”

Your brows furrow as the wrapper remains intact. You do a bad, bad job of picking at the tape around the slender stick, your long manicured hands absolutely useless—and the cause of your frustration. You puff out an angry gust of breath, trying harder to get to the sweet delight and it’s at that moment that your boyfriend takes it from your hands with a deep chuckle. 

“You silly boo, this is how you do it.” Jungkook pinches the wrapper around the stick and he merely, in a few swift motions, twists the ball until it lets go. He scrunches it in his fists and throws it away in the ashtray. Smirks smugly, leans his elbows on the table, draws close to you. You mirror his position, get to him almost nose to nose, and his smirk deepens, tongue darting out to lick across his lips. You do the same, eyeing the round pinkness in his hand, the sexual attraction and its tension soaring high between you.

Without your hands, you could put it in your mouth, mimic the way you do it on his own tip and make him lose his mind a little bit. It’s right here, an inch away and you dip your head towards it, a magnetic pulling drawing you naturally to it. Sense his gaze on you, sense his delight, sense the flashback glimmering across the wholeness of him. But before you could wrap your lips around it, he moves it out of your reach. 

“No,” Jungkook murmurs, breath slightly ragged, holds it up in front of your face, watches as you go cross-eyed a little bit. Hums at the sight, quietly enough for only you to hear. “If you want it, ask for it nicely.” 

His puffy lips being so close to you, you desire to kiss him—cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink, his oh-so-loved dominance fucking with your drunkenness and your brain, body altogether. You tip your head to the side, flutter your lashes, make your eyes big and smile at him as sweetly as you can. 

He coos, validating you, and it is a force that makes you feel safe enough to submit to him like a small animal to its father. Safe enough to want to get under the table and make him feel really, really good, too. 

“Can I have the lollipop, please?” 

He groans, still quietly, and your panties drench immediately. You widen your eyes at him, feeling your slick, pursing your lips to scold him silently. He just laughs, amused by it all, and the sound of his joy fills you with elation.

One that darkens, when he asks, “Where?” 

You lick your lips, taking in the question, struck by it. Letting your mind wander, the places where you want it, except your mouth, is on your nipples and your clit. Nicely sweet and sticky—for him to clean up, for him to enjoy. Your dewiness soaks the material of your panties and your body begins to yearn for any kind of friction. You’re not sure whether you’re able to stick around in your chair, acting as if nothing’s wrong—acting as if you’re not stupendously horny. 

“In my mouth.” 

Jungkook makes a noise of appreciation and you’re so frustrated by all those sounds he makes that you want to dig your nails in his arms and make him pay for it. Even more so, when he plunges the lollipop into his mouth and his lips pucker around it, inciting the butterflies in your tummy to go absolutely fucking berserk. You place your hand on his bicep, nails ready to attack, but then he pulls out the treat with a pop, angling it at your mouth. 

“Open.” 

You thought he stole it from you, but he did no such thing. He wetted it for you, like a father for its child. You’re stupefied to the point that you don't even realize that you’re leaving a mark on the linen material of your seat. 

You do open your mouth for him, however. 

He twists the ball on your tongue, expecting you to close your mouth around the stick, but you don’t. No, you swirl that muscle around the candy, deepening your gaze, smirking. Jungkook stills, clenches his strong jaw. Darkness flicks across his eyes and he narrows them. First warning. 

You pretend you don’t see it. 

Closing your mouth and encasing your hand around his, you move the lollipop to the side of your cheek, acting as if it were his dick. And when you bob your head once, Jungkook tugs on the stick, wanting to pull it out, but you don’t let him, keeping it caged between your teeth. It only drives you to bob your head again.  

“Stop,” he says, voice calm, deep and serious—terribly deadly. Withdraws his hand and leans back, watching you with a predatory gaze, one that makes you even wetter. “Or we’re going home.” 

That’s exactly what you want. Instructions clear. 

You open your mouth and do a show of swirling your tongue around the ball, only this time you flick the muscle against it. Jungkook grips the table, knuckles white, and you laugh, which you soon realize was a grave mistake. 

“You think it’s funny?” he questions you, staring you down with a look that should frighten you, but it merely turns you on. You suck on the lollipop, the dulciness of strawberries suffusing your senses. “I’ll bend you over this fucking table, lift up that slutty little skirt and spank you in front of everyone.” 

You pull out the candy with an exaggerated pop. Scowl at him. As though his words didn’t affect you the way that they did—as though you’re not squeezing your thighs together, trying to gain that friction you so desperately need. “Why are you so angry?” 

He looks away for a moment, laughing silently. Nods his head at your wine glass. “You finished with your wine, baby?” 

It’s this pleasantness that you hear in this voice that spreads goosebumps across your skin. Feigned sugariness—the sunlight right before the clouds come in and thunder strikes; the calm before the storm. 

Good thing you’re dressed for the rain and ready to sing in it. 

You nod your head and Jungkook clicks his tongue, grabs you by your hand whilst he pulls out his wallet. You accompany him as he walks over to the bar, black card ready between his fingers. Waits to be noticed. Gives you a look over and fixes your skirt, pulling the hem down. 

Pays for you. Smiles down at you as he pockets his wallet. 

And then, he drags you to his car. 

Perhaps it’s the fresh air, perhaps it’s the briskness in his walk and the tight hold around your hand, but all intoxication evaporates from your body, leaving only your stained elation and neediness. You can’t help your smile. Think it must be sewn in at this point. By his own diligent fingers. 

A wind blows in, pulling your hair to your front and Jungkook pins you against his car. Tits squished against the passenger side, elbows pressed together. Eyes wide, you check your surroundings and find no one in sight. Only swaying trees, buildings of apartments, lamps illuminating the dark street. You relax right away, trusting Jungkook that he’s on the lookout and knows what he’s doing. 

He grinds his hips against your backside and you moan at the feeling of his hard length. With his free hand, he brushes your hair to one side and begins to pepper kisses along the curve of your neck, nuzzling his face in. Hovers his lips above your ear when he says, “You feel how hard you made me with your little show?” You nod, quickly, wanting more of him, wanting him inside of you. Push your hips back; twirl them in slow circles. Jungkook hisses. “I guess you really do want that spanking. Where’s your lollipop?” You show him your hand, where your treat remains uneaten and dry. He takes it from you and you turn your head in time to see him sink it into his mouth, placing it on the side of his mouth like you did. “Get inside the car.” 

Jungkook opens the door for you and forces you in, closing it with a harsh thud. As he rounds the vehicle, he makes eye contact with you and your tummy flips in response. 

Fuck. 

Nothing happens in a millisecond once he’s seated, but then he grabs your cheeks, squishing them in the way he likes, and kisses you hard, lollipop in hand. Moving his mouth against yours, his tongue only briefly greets you before he pulls away. “Naughty fucking girl. You’re lucky that I love you because otherwise…” He doesn’t finish his sentence with words, but with another kiss, breathing against you, grunting when it’s you this time that slips the tongue inside, playing with him the same way you played with the dessert he got you. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me. I’m gonna put you in your fucking place, make you remember how to behave in public. You’ve forgotten, haven't you?” 

You don’t have time to react, you merely bite your lip so hard that it aches. Jungkook pushes you back and yanks your leg between his, lifting your skirt. Then, he hovers his palm above your ass, the other forearm resting on the top of the seat, lollipop dangling near your head. He hides his smirk behind his effort to flatten his lips. 

And when he spanks you, you don’t roll your eyes back and rasp like your body naturally wants you to. No, you hold the eye contact and you take the pain, letting it course through your body, reveling in it. He doesn’t say anything as he keeps going, alternating between slapping your now reddened cheeks and the back of your thigh. Doesn’t even stroke the skin to alleviate the burn. He solely bores his gaze into yours, his cock rock hard against your leg. Another set of words are exchanged, silently, deeply, teaching you your lesson in tandem with the hits, burying it to a great depth inside you. 

And then he finishes with a nasty kiss, but his hand resumes causing you pain. You’ve lost count of how many spanks you’ve taken. 

It’s like you’ve woken up from a trance. It reverberates throughout your entire body and it’s now that you allow your body to vocally react. You whine, rounding your mouth in a pout, so different from the one on the dinner date. And you remember your manners—perceive how wrong it was to tease him, even though a good half of you still takes delight in it. 

“It hurts,” you whisper, nudging your lips against him and he gives you your last spank—the hardest of them all. The infliction makes you flutter your eyes shut and Jungkook brings them back to him by caressing his knuckles down your flushed cheek. 

“Good, you remember how to behave now?” he asks, halting his movement, such piercing intensity in his irises that drive you to nod your head. “That’s my good little girl.” Taps the side of your thigh. “Let Daddy make it better now.” 

You open your legs for him and Jungkook pushes your soaked panties to the side, revealing your little bedewed seashell. He hums at the sight of her, pops the lollipop back inside his mouth. Collects your arousal by swirling the pads of his middle and ring finger around your hole, eyes flicking from your pussy to your own, groaning when he comes into contact with your swollen clit, rubbing slow circles. You whimper, bucking your hips, needing him to go faster, needing to come. 

Jungkook shakes his head, disapproving. “You take what I give you or I’ll stop.” Lifts his hand to express the gravity of his threat and you help, wrapping both hands around his and putting it back on your bundle of nerves. He chuckles at your desperation, giving you the same circles, though now firmer. 

Waves the lollipop near your lips. You open your mouth, instinctively, and he plunges it into your mouth for a mere second before he pulls away, growling at the sound that comes out. He does it again, fucking you with it in a way, just to hear that pop and he’s so pleased with it that he sinks those two fingers inside your heat, fully, in one ego. Keeps them there. Teases you. Hovers the lollipop out of your reach and you decide to fuck with him back. Darting out your tongue, you whirl it around the flat side and he swears, moaning, giving to you at last. 

He latches his mouth onto your neck, starting the drill of his fingers. “Fuck, you’re so hot.” 

He picks up the speed so rapidly that you scream, squeezing your eyes shut, the pleasure permeating your body so vastly that you quiver all over. Grab a hold of his hair, pulling on it and then—

Then, he withdraws his fingers. Ruins your orgasm. 

You pant, trying to catch your breath. “Please, Jungkook, please—”

He nudges his nose against yours. “What, baby?” 

“I need to come, please.” 

Jungkook tuts, kissing you once. “I thought we could play.” Plunges the lollipop into your mouth to wet it. Shows it to you, just to see you go cross-eyed again. Moans. “Where do you want it, hm?” 

Ever the angel that makes your fantasies come to life. You wrap your fingers around his hand, butterflies swarming in your tummy. Lead him towards your still clothed breasts. “Here.” Take him to your drooling pussy. “And here.” 

Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Descends his fingers a little lower, to your other hole, circles it. “What about here?” 

You giggle, but you shake your head. The idea may be intoxicating, however reality is much different. There’s a risk to putting any sweetened food inside, one you don’t want to deal with. 

Jungkook smiles at you, pushes your seat back and slides it in the same direction. Crawls over you and you feel so feminine, so sexy underneath him. Nipples perked under your top, breasts full and spilling. You arch your back towards him and Jungkook drags his thumb from your bottom lip, to your chin, neck, the dip of your collarbones until he reaches the hem of your Tom and he tugs it down so harshly that you can’t contain your very own concoction of a gasp and moan. 

Lollipop in mouth, one hand propped by your head, the other squeezes your breast hard, nearing it, fingers pinching your nipple. Makes the flesh as red as your ass. You can tell he likes the view by the way he coos, but then he wipes all your thoughts away, when he sucks hard on the candy and swirls it around your stiffened nub, gaze flicked to yours to watch your reaction. 

The pleasure is so vivid, so dizzying—and for him, you let it paint your face in all its colors. Brows scrunched, bedroom eyes, mouth parted, puffing out desperate breaths. Jungkook sucks it again and smears his saliva around your other nipple, taking his time, slapping the ball once against it, making you hiss. 

“It feels so good,” you murmur, sinking your fingers into the longer length on the back of his hair, bringing his mouth to yours. You kiss him with a verve that causes him to groan. You swallow that sound, satisfied. 

He grins at you. “I bet.” 

Dips his head and envelops that sugar-coated nub with his warm lips, sucking it hard. His groan spreads there, deepens there and you arch your back even more, pulling his head to your other nipple so he can do the same thing. Join your other hand to his hair and do whatever you please—turn his head side to side, from one nub to the other—and he lets you, giving you, momentarily, his control. You feel your essence soaking the seat beneath you and you thank the heavens that the fabric is one of leather. You lift his head and try to push it down, but he won’t budge. Stares you down instead, lustfully. 

“Where do you want me?” he asks, a wrinkle between brows. “Be a good girl and tell me.” Pops the lollipop back in his mouth.

You sigh, kissing him once on the side of his neck, using your tongue. Make sure you’re looking at him as you reply, “On my clit.” 

He moans, eyes woozy, finger on the stick as he sucks the candy, clefts of dimples on either side of his cheeks. You palm his length, your own digits rounding across his tight balls and he whisks his irises back, grinding into your hand. “You want a lickie?” 

“Yes, so bad, please.” 

He hums and kneels before you, kissing your clit once in greeting. Then, he flattens his tongue and licks a fat stripe across your whole femininity—from your slit, to your swollenness. Hands on your hips, index curled around the lollipop, he holds you steady, prevents you from meeting him, as he stimulates you like this. Up and down, tongue rolling, eyes fixed on you, devouring you. And when he stops to suck your clit, he taps your mouth once with the ball of the lollipop. The act of sucking on something while you’re getting pleasured like this almost throws you over the edge, your body coated in a layer of sweat, but Jungkook withdraws in time. Presses the delight in the middle and rubs small circles, just to prepare you for the big thing. You become so whiny, so loud that his eyes grow in size, watching you in awe. 

To reward you for such beauty, he rapidly strums it from side to side, causing you to nearly levitate, but he pins you down. Wetting it and placing it back down, grunting at the aftertaste of you mixed with the sweetness. 

And he can’t resist. Can’t hold back. The wrinkle between his brows deepens when he tastes you, licking you all over, tongue stopping occasionally its feast to flick at your clit before he swallows you whole. Grunts, sucks, licks. Eyes closed to savor the taste. The pressure in your core heightens, even more so when he lifts your legs, greedy for the side dish in the form of your other hole. You’re so close that you might burst. 

“You taste so fucking good, baby. So sweet. Come on my tongue, please, I want more of you.” 

He wants more of your taste. 

You come so hard that your orgasm takes you to an open sea, your body floating on calm waves, to and fro, eyes rolled to the sky—to the sunroof—seeing nothing but the elegance of the twinkling stars and deep purple clouds. 

“That’s it, baby, so good. That’s my little girl.” He slaps the side of your thigh, bringing you back to him. “Listening so well, learning her lesson, coming so hard. I’m proud.” 

His words alone could make you come again, but you’re distracted.

Jungkook unbuttons his pants and pulls out his manhood. Stroking himself, he lines his tip at your mouth. He doesn’t even have to tell you to open up—you do it yourself. Holding it at the base, he stuffs your throat right away, a guttural chuckle emitting out of his mouth when you gag. He pulls out to where you’re comfortable having him and you begin to bob your head, like you did with the lollipop. 

“Yes, suck it like that, my love. Daddy loves it when you do that.” 

His precum on your tongue, the way he’s holding himself, the position and his words—you moan around him, so out of your mind, so fucked out. And when he fucks your mouth, it turns you on so much that you go cross-eyed. 

Jungkook pulls out quickly, as if the sight of it alone was about to make him come. A string of your saliva from his tip drips onto your chest and he slides into your mouth again just to poke your cheek, just to mimic what you did with the lollipop. You whine, liking it so much, to the point that he drills this tender place of yours until he can’t take it enough. 

“Turn around.” You try to, but your legs are jelly. He manhandles you to the position he wants—on your knees, tits against the leather, arms around the headrest, the formerly abused cheek against it. “Hold onto it. Too bad we left bunny at home, huh?” 

Jungkook runs his cock across your pussy and you grind against it, needing the friction after the way he used you. You whimper for him. “She’s probably wondering where we are right now and why we’re taking so long.” 

“I’ll make it up to her.” He presses his length against your clit, encouraging you to use him back. “Rub your pussy like that on me, fuck.” He moves so it’s his tip that stimulates you. You ride him harder, moaning loudly against the leather. “You can make it up to her, too. Can ride her like I know you can. With a vibrator between your legs and hers, hm? How you like the sound of that?” 

You’re so close you could come in a second, but you don’t want it like this. You need him inside of you. “Shut up, I’m literally gonna come like this. Fuck me.” 

He fists your hair. Pain shoots up your scalp and he ruts into your heat. Fully. Until his pelvis collides with your ass. You scream. 

Lips by your ear. “Is this how you talk to your Daddy?” He begins to pump into your little tight hole. Mercilessly. The leather squeaks, a horrible, rapid sound that you can only faintly hear because all that your senses can focus on is his cock. “Your Daddy that loves you so much?” 

You come, pathetically. Sea and waves, palm trees that sway. Your legs tremble, but he keeps going, mouthing the shape of your ear. 

He tsks. “I’m gonna tell bunny on you. Maybe I’ll be the one who gets to fuck her while you watch.” He gives you a hard stroke, one that is followed by rapid thrusts that scramble your brain. “She’ll be so disappointed to hear how bad you’ve been, but I’ll make sure to tell her how hard I fucked it out of you.” 

Lifting you from the leather, he kneads your breasts, placing the lollipop in between and holding it up by squishing them. 

“Come on, get your lollipop.” He bounces your tits in his hands, signalizing you that he wants you to do it with your mouth. 

But you can’t do it. You come, majestically, your senses leaving you and wafting in the stuffed air of the car. Boneless, you sag in his arms. 

Jungkook coos. “You come so well around me that I’ll be good to you. You’re just a cockslut, aren’t you, baby? You just can’t help it, hm?” He puts the lollipop inside your mouth, chasing his so-needed release. 

It doesn’t take long for him to find the footsteps into that bliss that you left in your wake. He holds you like this, against him, tits spilling over his forearms as he jackhammers into you so hard that your whole body bounces, shakes and reacts to each grunt, to each whimper, to each kiss he presses onto your skin. 

With the little of the brain you have left, you decide to talk him through it—because he fucks you so good. 

“Come for me, Daddy, yes, please, fuck. Fill me up with your cum. I want it so bad, I want to feel you—” His cock twitches in you, but he continues, sloppily. “Yes, so good. That’s it. Come for your little girl, Jungkook.” A loud groan. A tight hold. A spurt of his cum inside your walls. You whimper and he fucks it deeper into you, giving you more of his liquid stars. “Jungkook, oh fuck, Jungkook, oh yes.” 

And it’s that never-ending litany of his name that helps him chase his high to the fullest. He kisses your neck hard in gratitude for helping him come, marking you, marking this memory. 

You stay like this for a little while. Sweaty, sticky, spent, breathing hard—lungs synced. 

A warm announcement sneaks to your heart, one that screams it into the drowsy skies once Jungkook pulls out of you, turns you around and, stealing your candy, kisses you. 

An announcement that you’re deeply and irrevocably in love with him. 

“You sounded just like me.” He finishes your lollipop for you, chewing the small bulby head as he dresses you and his cum spills onto your panties. 

Your smile is dopey, satisfied and you’re ready for sleep to take you, but Jungkook gets out of the car for a smoke. You think you need one, too, after what you’ve experienced together, and so you follow him out into the night on wobbly legs. 

He leans against his car, a cigarette in his mouth, one hand cupping the fire as he flicks his lighter to life. You wait until he puffs out the smoke into the air before you fold into the side of his body, stealing his cigarette and inhaling it, giving it back to him. 

Jungkook pats your head, rubbing your scalp, chin propped on it. “I didn’t mean what I said. You were perfect. I’m not telling shit to bunny, I promise.” 

You smile, fondly. Didn’t take his words seriously, not at all, but you’re grateful for the reassurement regardless. It’s just role-play, nothing else. 

“I know, baby,” you say, softly, massaging his stomach, going as far as under his shirt to feel his bare skin—ever so innocently. 

“I wanted to fuck you the moment you sat down. You’re just my little helper and because of that I’m glad we’re going home with my cum in your panties,” he whispers, placing the cigarette on your lips, so you can take a drag. “You deserve every drop.” 

You feel that familiar ache rooting in your core again, but you don’t think you can take another round. Jungkook lifts your chin, making you look at him. Twinkles, bigger than the ones of the stars up above, living in his soft eyes. That cute nose. Those pouty lips. His silky, dreamy heart that looks out for you and puts you first. 

The three words that you’ve never told him before rise up your body and you think now is the perfect occasion to say them. 

“I love you.” 

Wetness coats his eyes and the twinkles broaden, saturating them with an unfathomable, fulging light. He flicks his cigarette away, presses you closer to him and with his now free hand, he cups your face. Kisses you. For a long, long time. 

“I love you.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[greg-montgomery]

Texting bf's dad hotch by accident when you're drunk and trying to get your bf to pick you up...

this idea >>>>

also aaron has another son besides jack in this

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

They were just a few margaritas. You didn’t expect a casual girl’s night to turn into a pounding headache and a room that was spinning around you.

It was fun and your friends wanted to stay longer, but your upset stomach would not let you enjoy the rest of your night. You were more than ready to get out of there.

“I’m gonna ask my boyfriend to come pick me up,” you told your friends, who seemed a bit too drunk to process your words.

As carefully as you could, you made your way outside the bar, and took your phone out of your purse. Going through your contacts you stopped when you spotted your boyfriend’s name.

‘Babe can you come and pick me up? I can’t drive’

You hit send, and right after, you shared your location with him.

‘I’ll be there in 20.’

Oh.

That was it? No whining? No scolding you for drinking too much? No complaining about you being an inconvenience?

It was a full moon; maybe he was going through some kind of transformation.

You closed your eyes for a bit and rested your head against the wall. The minutes would simply not pass fast enough. I’m never drinking again, you thought.

Your phone buzzed in your hands and a new message flashed across the screen.

‘I’m here.’

You were ready to lift your head and search for his car, but your eyes were glued on the contact name that appeared above the text you had just received.

It didn’t say Mark. It said Mark’s dad.

No way, you thought. No way, I asked Aaron Hotchner to come pick me up from a bar because I’m wasted.

But that was exactly what you had done.

The word embarrassment didn’t even begin to cover the range of emotions you were feeling at that moment; especially as you watched him get out of his car and walking towards you.

Why did he have to look so good? As if drunk texting him wasn’t embarrassing enough, he had to look like a god in a suit that cost more than your monthly rent.

‘Mr. Hotchner,” you said, when he approached you. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to text you. I wanted to text Mark, but I got confused and God…I’m so, so dizzy.”

 His expression stayed serious, but he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Let’s get in the car.”

Aaron opened the door for you and held your hand so you could get inside. You expected him to close the door but instead he leaned over you and fastened your seatbelt for you.

Your heart started jumping around at the smell of his cologne and the feeling of his face so close to yours. You weren’t proud of it, but Aaron Hotchner was your forbidden desire. And the star of more dirty dreams than you’d ever dare to admit.

His thick fingers brushed against your stomach as he made sure that your seatbelt was tight enough to keep you safe.

You shut your eyes and took a deep breath trying to calm your body down.

“Are you alright?” he asked, softly.

His deep voice was the cherry on top that had you melting on your seat.

“Yeah,” you answered weakly. “Just dizzy.”

He closed the door and made his way to the other side, and soon he was on the driver’s seat.

There was a small water bottle in the cup holder and he picked it up. “Here,” he offered, “Have some water. It’ll help.”

“Thank you,” you said taking it from his hands, and shivered at the contact when your fingers brushed.

The bottle was half empty which meant he already had some of it before you. He had wrapped his lips around it; around where your lips were now.

You devoured any water that was left and realized how bad you needed to get hydrated. “I needed that.”

“I can tell,” he laughed. “Come on,” he added, and started the car. “Let’s take you home.”

“Were you asleep?”

“Hm?””

“When I texted you. Did I wake you up?” you asked with a worried tone.

“I rarely sleep, honey. You don’t have to worry about me.”

You pressed your thighs together at the sound of the pet name and the sight of his hands around the wheel.

“Thank you for coming. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he said. “You needed me.”

“I did,” you said, breathless. “Mark would…”

You paused.

“Go on.”

You hesitated. “He would have probably told me to call a cab.”

“He’d let his girl get in the car with a stranger in the middle of the night? When she’s drunk?”

“Sometimes he gets upset with things like that. And, listen, I get it. I can be trouble sometimes.”

“Oh you can be,” Aaron said. “But not for the reasons you think.”

“What do you mean?”

He ignored your question, but it didn’t take too long before he spoke again.

“I’m gonna have a word with him. He’s not treating you well.”

“No, please don’t.”

The only thing that talk would achieve would be Mark getting upset with you.

There was a long pause, and you took advantage of the silence to stare at him. His side profile, his hands, his arms. He was perfect.

‘I wish Mark was more like you,” you said before thinking any better.

“Sweetheart, you shouldn’t say things like that.”

“I could say way worse.”

He chuckled. “Unless you want both of us to get in trouble, don’t.”

“But-”

Aaron reached out to hold your hand, making you go quiet. “You’re drunk. But what I do want you to know is that I’m always here, okay?”

“Okay.”

He squeezed your hand and didn’t let go the entire ride home.

part 2

[eroselless]

─────────────── somebody else // 2

series summary: you just work in hospitality for McLaren and he’s their star driver. what happens when your paths cross and you find yourself questioning your feelings for each other? [3.8k]

[lando norris x reader]

masterlist | previously

warnings:  language, suggestive content, drunk almost hookup, slightly possessive lando

note: ehm, I absolutely did not mean for it to get that long, my bad guys. I’m trying to update a little faster and write in bigger chunks. I have a trip coming up soon and I’m not sure I’ll be able to update as fast and regularly as I’d like to. But as always, happy reading!

In the days that follow, you find yourself pulling back even more. You stack your walls up even higher as you try to keep that feeling of uncertainty away. You hyper focused on your work, trying to maintain a professional facade but each day that came and went it became harder than ever. Lando was still there, still kind and attentive but he could tell. Your heart was miles away, under lockdown and under constant supervision. He could see it in your eyes, how they would be distant and vacant at times, a haze coming over them whenever he came around. The easy banter had shifted, replaced by a tension that neither of you would acknowledge but could cut with a knife.

One afternoon, after a particularly busy day at the track, you found yourself alone in the hospitality area once again, cleaning up after the last guests had left. You were lost in your thoughts, replaying the events of the last few days and seeing the same image of Lando’s eyes, pooling with emotion as he watched you under the darkening sky. 

“Still here?” Lando’s voice is light, but there is an edge to it that catches your attention. It pulls you from the neverending cycle in your head. 

You turn to see him leaning against the doorframe, eyes fixed on you. He’s still wearing his race suit, it hangs low on his waist, orange contrasting with the black of his fireproofs. There was an air to him tonight, maybe it was the glossiness of his eyes, the five o'clock shadow beginning to form on his face or maybe something else entirely—it makes your pulse quicken. 

“Just finishing up,” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual.

He walks over to you, gaze never leaving you. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

It wasn’t a question. It lingers in the air, thick with the weight of unspoken emotions. It makes you freeze in your spot, a dirty rag trapped in your fingers. His eyes search you for an answer, one you weren’t ready to give. Your heart pounds in your chest, the tensions building to almost unbearable. 

“I haven’t—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Yes, you have,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “And I want to know why.”

You swallow hard, searching for the right words. “I haven’t been avoiding you,” you repeat quickly, the lie slipping from your lips before you can fully think it through. You force a smile, trying to keep your voice from shaking. “I’ve just been really busy with work, that’s all.”

He studies you, eyes narrowing slightly as if he could see right through you. “Busy with work?” he echoes, skepticism lacing his tone.

“Yeah,” you nod, looking anywhere but at him. “You know how it is, especially with the season in full swing. There’s always so much to do, and I didn’t want to get distracted.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything just watching you as you stand there. Distracted. It had been a word you had said to him before, a word he was seemingly starting to hate after hearing you say it a second time. Your heart could burst from your chest as he continues to look at you with a piercing gaze. Your mind scrambles to come up with something—anything-–that would make your excuse believable. But under the weight of his stare, any lie you thought of felt flimsy, crumbling the second you even considered saying it out loud. 

“Right,” He says slowly. You could tell he wasn’t convinced but were grateful when he didn’t press any further nodding at you he spoke again. ​​“I get it. It’s a hectic time for everyone.”

You mimic his actions, trying to keep your expression neutral, even as your stomach twists with guilt. You hated that you were lying to him, hated the way it made your chest feel like it was caving in and most of all hated how the wall you were building up to keepsafe your feelings was now coming between you. But what else could you do? Admitting the truth—admitting your feelings, that you didn’t trust them— felt too risky, too raw. 

Lando sighs softly, running a hand through his damp hair. “I just…missed talking to you, that’s all. You just felt distant, and I didn’t know why.”

Your chest tightens at the shakiness of his voice, the way he sounded, the devastation squeezed at your heart. You wanted so badly to tell him you missed him too, that the distance you had put between the two of you was excruciatingly painful but the words caught in your throat. 

You round the table, moving towards him. You drop the rag onto the table as you get closer. “I’m sorry,” you say, the apology sounds hollow even to your own ears. You reach over his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. It's not the first time you’ve hugged. Well, it's the first time you hugged him. You usually found yourself trapped in his embrace, head pressed briefly against his chest. You ignore how his fireproofs are slightly damp and how he slumps into you. He gives in to your touch, his own heartbeat echoing in his ears.  “It’s okay,” he says quietly. “I just wanted to make sure everything was…you know, okay between us.”

“Of course,” you reply a little too quickly. You ignore the butterflies that bother your stomach, between us. “Everything’s fine, I promise.”

Lando nods, pulling out of your arms. He seemed to accept your words though he knew there was something else going on. There was a small wave of relief wash over you, not asking any more questions. There's guilt swirling in your stomach as he bids you goodbye, leaving you to yourself once again. 

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

As time passes, your routine settles back into its regular pace. You still find yourself emotionally distant from him, just more aware of your actions. You reassure him sweetly every day that you’re ok, coming up with more excuses. I’m just a little tired, today was super busy. You make sure not to muddle the mood, keeping up a facade whenever you need to. 

A few weekends later, after another high-intensity race, he approaches you with an invitation. “Hey, a few of us are going out later. It’s going to be a bit of a party—want to join?” His eyes are wide, the adrenaline from the race still high in his bloodstream. 

You hesitate for a moment, considering all possibilities. The allure of a night out, the chance to let loose and the opportunity to see Lando in a different setting makes it harder for you to decline. “Sure, I’d love to,” you accept, nerves pouring out again. With a quiet squeal you’ve heard from him before, he bids you goodbye, letting you know that he’ll text you all the information. He quickly presses a kiss to your head, which leaves you reeling, before running out and leaving you to finish. 

You can feel the base of the song in your chest as you step into the club, the heavy beat reverberating through the floor and up into your bones. The lights pulse and swirl around you in shades of blue, purple and red. They cast shadows over the crowd of people moving rhythmically to the music. You find yourself alone, surrounded by strangers, their laughter and chatter blending into the music, creating a vibrant but overwhelming atmosphere. Pushing through the sea of bodies, you navigate your way across the club, your eyes scanning the room for a familiar face. Anxiety prickles at the back of your neck, and you pull out your phone, nervously checking to see if you’ve missed any messages from Lando. But the screen is empty, and you feel a pang of unease. The crowd presses in around you, and for a moment, you’re unsure of where to go or what to do.

Scanning the room over once again, you finally spot him. Lando is standing on a step near the back, surrounded by a group of drivers and their girlfriends. He’s got one arm looped around Max’s neck, the two of them bouncing to the beat of the music, lost in the energy of the moment. The sight of him makes your heart skip. 

Lando spots you almost immediately, his eyes lighting up as he waves you down with his free arm, a grin spreading across his face. Max rolls his eyes good-naturedly at Lando’s enthusiasm, giving him a playful shove as Lando nearly topples over in his haste to reach you.

Before you can react, his arms are around your shoulders, pulling you tight against his chest. The scent of Christian Dior mixed with tequila hits you, a surprisingly intoxicating combination that makes your head spin a little. His navy blue button-up clings to his frame, the top few buttons undone to reveal a hint of his tanned chest. The chains around his neck clink softly against your own as he holds you close, his embrace warm and firm. “I missed you,” he murmurs into your ear, his voice thick with the effects of the alcohol.

You let out a shy giggle, your heart fluttering despite your efforts to keep your emotions in check. “You saw me a couple of hours ago,” you mumble into the fabric of his shirt, the words barely audible over the music.

He shakes his head, pressing his lips closer to your ear. “It hasn’t been soon enough,” he insists, his breath warm against your skin.

The sentiment makes your heart skip, and you have to bite down on your cheek to keep from smiling too widely. The weight of his words, the sincerity in his voice, tugs at something deep inside you. Before you can say anything else, he pulls back slightly, his hand slipping down to take yours.

 “Come on, let’s get you a drink,” Lando says, guiding you through the crowd towards the bar. He insists on covering your drinks for the night, his generosity both endearing and dangerous. The alcohol flows freely, and soon enough, you can feel your earlier resolve melting away. The tension that had been knotting your stomach eases as the alcohol loosens your limbs and your thoughts, making everything feel a little less serious, a little more carefree.

After a few drinks, you find yourself swaying to the music, your body moving instinctively to the beat. Alexandra and Lily are close by, the three of you forming a small circle as you dance together, shouting the lyrics to the songs that blast from the speakers. There’s a joyous energy between you, a shared camaraderie that makes the night feel lighter, more fun. You’d built a rapport with them over the last few races, their curious faces eager to meet the girl that had Lando disappearing before and after every race day. 

A familiar song comes on, and you lock eyes with Alex, both of you squealing in delight. You move behind her, your hands on her hips as the two of you bounce together, laughing and singing at the top of your lungs. The music is loud, the bass heavy, and you lose yourself in the moment, your bodies moving in perfect sync with the rhythm.

Across the room, Lando watches you, his gaze fixed on the way your dress clings to your curves. The orange fabric, vibrant and bold, catches his eye, and a slow smile spreads across his face as he takes notice of the fabric of the dress. Papaya orange. There’s something about seeing you in that particular shade—his color—that makes his chest tighten with a strange sense of pride and possessiveness.

His eyes trail down your body, watching the way you roll your hips in time with the beat, the smooth, sensual movements captivating him. He can’t tear his gaze away, mesmerized by the way you move, so free and confident. The sight of you, so different from the professional, composed version he usually sees, makes his heart race.

Lando finally pushes through the crowd, making his way back to you, his movements slightly unsteady as he navigates through the crowd. When he reaches you, he drunkenly sends Alexandra a nod and a wink, pulling you away from her. His hands find your waist, pulling you close as you continue to sway to the music. His touch is firm, but there’s a gentleness to it that makes your breath catch in your throat.

The ghost of his lips brushing the shell of your ear sends a shiver down your spine. The soft whisper of your name ignites a heat deep in your stomach. His touch is familiar, yet it feels entirely different from anything you’ve experienced before. His chest is pressed against your back, both of you covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and your mind begins to wander to places you’ve been trying to avoid for months. Images of the two of you flash through your mind—intense, unrestrained, his hands gripping your hips as his lips explore every inch of your skin. 

A voice in the back of your head urges you to stop, but the alcohol blurs its edges, and you find yourself leaning further into him. His hands slide up your body, fingers curling over your ribs, a possessive touch that cradles the underside of your breasts, drawing a soft laugh from his lips. He presses his nose to your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your perfume. It’s addictive, intoxicating, driving him wild.

He lowers his head, his lips tracing a slow path over the racing pulse in your neck. He pauses just below your ear, murmuring into your hair, “You know you’re driving me crazy right now, don’t you?”

A hum escapes your lips before you reply, “I had no idea.” The words are tinged with a bitter truth, your usual restraint slipping under the influence of the alcohol. His lips resume their slow, deliberate assault on your throat, even as you continue to sway to the beat. You move your hips in time with the music, grinding into him, and he lets out a low, guttural sound, biting his lip as a wave of heat surges through him.

His hands slide lower, settling on the crease where your legs meet your hips. He tries to guide your movements, pulling you closer, but you push back, teasing him. His head begins to spin, the alcohol, the sweat, the heat, and most of all, you, overwhelming his senses. He presses his forehead against your shoulder, struggling to keep his thoughts in check. 

A breathy gasp escapes you as his fingers dig into your skin. You can feel him stir, the hard press of his arousal against your back. He pushes your hips away slightly, only to pull you back firmly, the back-and-forth sending your head spinning. Whether it’s the thought of him enjoying the teasing closeness, the drinks, or a mix of both, it only fuels the need burning between your legs.

His breath is hot against your skin as he starts to murmur directly into your ear. The noise of the club fades away, the music and the crowd dissolving until only his voice and his body remain. The heat radiating from him seeps into you, making you cling to him as the tension builds.

After a few more songs, the tension reaches a boiling point. Lando’s voice is low and rough as he whispers, “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

You nod, letting him take your hand as he leads you through the crowd, weaving between the dancing bodies until you reach the hallway leading to the restrooms. The space is dimly lit, the music muffled, creating an intimate atmosphere that only heightens the tension between you. Your heart races as he closes the restroom door behind you, sealing the two of you in a moment that’s been building all night.

The air in the small restroom is thick with tension as he stays by the door for a second. He pants with his back towards you as if he’s thinking it over in a brief moment of soberness. The muffled bass of the club still pulses through the walls but here, it's just the two of you. His eyes are darkened by desire as he scans your face for a sign, a permission to cross this line that you’ve been dancing around for months. 

He steps closer, his body heat enveloping you and you can feel the alcohol fueled courage roll back into him in waves. You’re both silent, the only real sound being the shallow breaths you’re taking as he slowly raises his hand to cup your cheek.

You hold in a breath as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, eyes following how it softly snaps back before locking onto yours. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers, his voice raspy, almost desperate. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes fluttering shut. His breath comes out in pants, mixing with yours. With a small tilt of your head, your lips meet his. One hand comes to wrap delicately around the back of your neck, the other encapsulates your waist, flushing your body to his. The kiss is a release of all the tension that’s been simmering between you, a collision of emotions too long suppressed. It's deep, intimate, charged with so much as his tongue explores the cavern of your mouth. He pushes you up against the sink, trying to get you as close to him as possible, the world outside forgotten. Your hands travel across his chest, fingers tangling in the chains that rest there. 

He drinks you in, sucking the air out of you as he cradles your face. Pulling away, he lowers his head to your exposed shoulder, tugging the thin strap of your dress to your bicep. He kisses the skin tenderly, muttering into your skin something you don't quite catch. You trace your fingers up the side of his face, head rolling to the side as he sucks sharply at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. 

He slots a leg between yours, pulling one of your legs up to wrap around his waist. You’re almost wide open for him as he rolls his hips against you. You let out a weak whimper as the shape of his cock brushes right where you needed him. You buck your hips up, chasing the mouth watering feeling once again. Just as his hands slide over your bum, fingers searching for the seam of your dress, there’s a sharp knock on the door that has you jumping. 

When you don’t move from your spot, there’s another blasted knock on the bathroom door paired with the annoyed call of Max. Lando allows your leg to drop, his forehead resting against yours as he lets out a frustrated groan. The reality of the situation starts to seep back in, and you can’t help but let out a nervous laugh, the absurdity of it all hitting you at once. He sighs, pulling you into a tight hug, as if he’s reluctant to let go just yet.

“We’re coming, geez.” Lando calls out, his voice still tinged with the lingering effects of alcohol. 

When he finally releases you, there’s a look of disappointment mixed with something deeper in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes your hand and leads you back out into the now nearly-empty club. Max gives you both a knowing look, his eyebrows raised, but he doesn’t say a word as Lando signals for another round of drinks.

As the night wears on, Lando continues drinking, and while you’ve switched to water, you stay by his side, watching as his playful demeanor shifts into something more subdued. He’s not the loud, rowdy drunk you’d seen over the last few hours; instead, he becomes quieter, his words slurred but gentle, his touch lingering but not overbearing. In your mind, his sudden change only confirms what you had been hearing in the back of your head all along.

“I don’t want to go home yet,” he mumbles when the night comes to a close. He hangs around your shoulders, head lolling slightly as he turns his head to get a better look at you. “Come with me? Just to hang out?”

You hesitate, knowing you should probably just call it a night, but the soft, almost pleading look in his eyes makes it impossible to say no. “Okay,” you agree quietly. “But just for a bit to make sure you get home in one piece.”

The ride back to his apartment is a blur of neon lights and the quiet hum of the city at night. Lando leans against you in the backseat, his head resting on your shoulder as he mutters something incoherent. He fiddles with your fingers, playing with your rings. It's almost as if he’s trying to commit to memory the way your hands feel in his. It's as if he knows that by morning light, everything will be gone and it'll be like a dream you can't fully remember.

By the time you arrive, he’s half-asleep, and it takes some effort to get him out of the car and up to his apartment. Once inside, you help him to his room, guiding him onto the bed as he flops down with a tired groan. He’s still wearing his clothes, and as you pull his shoes off, he watches you with half-lidded eyes, a lazy smile on his lips.

“You’re so good to me,” he giggles, reaching out to grab your hand. “Stay, please? Just... stay.”

You sigh softly, knowing he won’t remember much of this in the morning, but the tenderness in his voice tugs at your heart. “Alright,” you surrender, sitting on the edge of the bed. “But you need to sleep, okay?”

He nods fervently, already drifting off as he mumbles something about how nice it is to have you here. He continues, his words slurring slightly as he tells you what drawer to reach into for a shirt to sleep in before rolling over to wrap his arms around his pillow. You pull the covers over him, watching as his breathing evens out, his face softening in sleep. You change into an old t-shirt of his and slip into the bed beside him, careful not to get too close. Despite the circumstances, there’s something comforting about being here, about being the one to look after him when he needs it. The sobering voice in your head returns, but you blur it out as it slowly lulls you to sleep.

tags: @sltwins @sarx164 @f1fantasys

[cowboybeepboop]

Always Been You

“Tell me this isn’t a one time thing,” you mumble against his tan skin as you cuddle closer to him.

“This is definitely not a one time thing,” he reassures you, his voice soft yet firm.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem! Reader

Genre: romance/smut, kinda fluff at the end

Word count: 3180

Summary: Tyler is your childhood best friend and just so happens to be your first love, the one man you can’t get over. The feeling is mutual, and after almost screwing it up, he makes the first move.

a/n: It fr is a Glen Powell summer, twisters has brought back my obsession with him 😭 I do take requests so send any you have my way! Hope you enjoy 😊

The summer breeze carried a hint of coolness as the sun began its descent, casting a warm glow over the lake. You shivered slightly, feeling the goosebumps rise on your arms. You and Tyler had been coming to this spot by the lake since you were kids, sharing secrets and dreams under the shimmering stars. Now, in your early 20s, your friendship had only grown stronger, but something else was simmering just beneath the surface—something you were both afraid to acknowledge.

Tyler, ever attentive, noticed your subtle shiver and instinctively pulled you into his embrace. It felt natural, right, and you sat in comfortable silence, the warmth of your bodies blending as the sun continued its slow descent. In that moment, you felt an overwhelming surge of emotions—love, desire, and a longing that had been building up for years. Snuggling into his chest you sigh contentedly.

The familiar scent of his cologne fills your nostrils, making your heart race. His strong arms around you, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the sound of his heartbeat, it was all so familiar.

Tyler tightens his arms around you, holding you closer. He rested his chin on top of your head, his breath tickling your hair as he began to speak, his voice soft and earnest.

“Can I ask you something?” You look up at him with curiosity in your expression.

“Yeah? What’s up?” He pulls back slightly to meet your eye, his gaze is intent and sincere. His hands slide down to your hips as you turn to face him, his thumbs absentmindedly tracing circles on your skin.

”We’ve been friends for so long now,” he begins, pausing to gather his thoughts. “And lately.. I’ve been feeling different.” His fingers grip you tighter, his thumbs still tracing lazy circles on your hips.

”Ty? What do you mean?” Your eyebrows scrunch as you look at him with worry. “Different how?” You move out of his arms he looks taken aback. He lets out a sigh and rubs the back of his neck nervously.

”Damnit, I'm not good at this,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. He looks at you for a moment, his eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and determination. “I mean I’ve been having… thoughts. About you. Thoughts that maybe we shouldn’t be friends anymore.” He groans at the realization of what he said.

Your eyes fill with hurt as you stand up, “Why?” His hands move to grasp your arm. You yank your arm away, “Why are you saying that?” Tyler winces at your reaction, he hadn’t meant to hurt you.

He runs a hand through his hair, a frustrated look on his face. “I didn’t mean it like that, i just mean…” he struggles to find the right words. “I don’t want to just be friends anymore.” He takes a step towards you, his hand going to your cheek.

“I want.. more than that. He says softly, his eyes pleading. “I want us to be… more” you relax a sigh escaping your parted lips.

”More than just friends?” You giggle, he truly is bad at this, he made you think that things were over between you both.

Tyler gives a sheepish smile, his shoulders relaxing at your light-hearted reaction. His thumb gently brushes your cheek. “Yeah, more than just friends,” he confirms, a hint of relief in his voice.

“I’m sorry I didn’t phrase it well,” he says, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But I really do mean it… I want us to be more than friends.” He steps closer to you, his other hand resting on your hip. “I want you,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, standing on your tippy toes as you pull yourself closer to him. “I want you too,” you whisper into his ear. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to make a move.”

Tyler’s heart races as you pull yourself closer to him, your words sending shivers down his spine. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His eyes darken with desire as he gazes down at you.

“Really?” he whispers, his voice gruff. “You’ve been waiting?” He leans down, his lips hovering just above your ear. “How long?” he murmurs before gently nipping at your earlobe.

”Years...” You moan softly as his hands explore your body. “How long are you going to make me wait for a kiss?” You mumble. Tyler growls in response, his grip tightening on your waist. He pulls you even closer, his chest pressed against yours.

“You want a kiss?” he teases, his lips hovering just millimeters from your own. “All you had to do was ask.” He leans in, his breath hot against your skin. “But I must warn you, once I start, I might not stop.”

You press your lips to his in a passionate kiss, your hand going to the back of his head. Pulling away you whisper against his lips “Who said I would want you to?” Your other hand sliding down his back as you lean in for another kiss.

Tyler lets out a guttural moan as your lips meet his in a passionate kiss. His hands grip your hips tighter, fingers digging into your soft flesh. He leans into the kiss, his tongue seeking entrance between your parted lips. He pushes you backwards, backing you up against a nearby tree.

Breaking off the kiss, he trails kisses down your jawline, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck. “You’re driving me insane sweetheart” he whispers huskily. You moan softly as he trails hickeys down your exposed skin.

”Tyler..” you moan his name as he slides his hands up your shirt. His name falling from your lips in a soft moan sets his blood on fire. He continues to kiss and nip at your neck, his hands roaming beneath your shirt, his touch leaving a trail of fire on your skin.

He sucks a particularly sensitive spot just under your ear, causing you to arch into his touch. “Baby, you don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he groans against your skin. You press your fingers into his back, pulling him closer to you.

”Then show me what I’m doing to you,” You mumble into his ear. Your words against his ear send a jolt of electricity down his spine.

Without warning, he lifts you off the ground, gripping your thighs and pressing you against the tree. He devours your mouth in a heated kiss, his tongue exploring the seam of your lips, seeking entry.

His hands grip your thighs tighter as he grinds against you, the growing bulge in his jeans pressing against you. “This,” he murmurs, his breath ragged, “this is what you do to me.”

”Fuck,” you moan, your head falling back against the tree.

Encouraged by your response, Tyler deepens the kiss, his tongue dancing with yours as he moves his hands to cup your breasts. You gasp into his mouth, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through your body. His thumbs flick over your hardened nipples, making you squirm against him.

You wrap your legs around his waist, your core pulsing with desire. He breaks the kiss to gaze into your eyes, which are glazed with lust. "Take me home," you murmur, your voice thick with need. "Now." Tyler's smile widens, his eyes dark with passion.

"With pleasure," he whispers, scooping you up into his arms and carrying you away from the lake, towards the promise of a night filled with long-suppressed passion and the unraveling of a love story that had been waiting to be told.

The short drive home seems like an eternity as you can't resist the urge to explore Tyler's arousal. With the car still moving, you unbuckle your seatbelt and slide closer to him, your hand deftly moving to the bulge in his jeans. Tyler's eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn't protest.

Instead, he groans as you unbutton his pants and pull out his hard, throbbing erection. You lean in, wrapping your soft, warm lips around the tip of his length. His grip tightens on the steering wheel as you begin to suck, your tongue swirling around him in a way that makes his hips jerk involuntarily.

The car swerves slightly, but you don't stop, taking him deeper into your mouth. The sensation of his smooth skin against your tongue and the taste of him is intoxicating. Tyler's breathing turns ragged as he watches you in the dim light of the car, his eyes dark with desire.

He adjusts his position, allowing you better access, and you eagerly take advantage, bobbing your head in a rhythm that has him moaning with pleasure. You feel powerful, knowing you're the one driving him wild with need, and you can't wait to feel him lose control completely in your arms.

With a final, desperate thrust, Tyler's body goes rigid as he reaches his climax, his warm release filling your mouth. You swallow eagerly, savoring the taste of him as he gasps your name.

He parks the car with trembling hands, and the moment it's in park, he pulls you over to straddle him, his hands tangled in your hair as he deepens the kiss. His hips buck up into you, his arousal still palpable against your center. "Inside," he whispers, his voice hoarse with passion. You nod eagerly, not breaking the kiss as you both fumble with the car door.

The anticipation is almost unbearable as you stumble towards the house, your hands roaming over each other's bodies, unable to get enough. The door slams shut behind you, echoing through the quiet night as you both race to the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way.

The air is thick with desire, and the promise of a night filled with passionate exploration and the discovery of each other's bodies. As you fall onto the bed, you know that nothing will ever be the same between you again, but you're ready for this new chapter in your relationship. The love that's been simmering for years is finally ready to burn bright and fiercely, and you can't wait to see where it will take you.

The room is filled with the sound of your moans and his grunts as Tyler's strong body covers yours, his eyes never leaving yours as he pushes into you. He takes his time, savoring every inch of your wet heat, filling you completely. His hips move in a steady rhythm that has you clutching the bedsheets, your legs shaking with the intensity of each thrust.

Your eyes roll back in pleasure as he hits that perfect spot, your breath hitching in your throat. "More," you beg, and he obliges, his pace increasing, his strokes growing more urgent. Your walls tighten around him, your body desperately trying to hold onto the feeling of him deep inside you.

His hands grip your hips, guiding you to meet his every movement, and together, you find a rhythm that feels like it was made just for the two of you. The room is a blur of passion and desire as you both give in to the explosive chemistry that's been building for so long.

The love that's been simmering just beneath the surface of your friendship now burns hot and wild, and you know that this night will be the first of many where you'll explore the depths of your newfound love and lust. Each thrust feels like a declaration of passion, each touch a promise of forever, and as your bodies come together in perfect harmony, you realize that you're exactly where you're meant to be—in the arms of your best friend, now your lover, as you both cross the line from friendship to something far more intimate and profound.

With each powerful thrust, Tyler loses more of his self-control, his passion for you overwhelming him as he feels you tighten around him. His eyes are squeezed shut, his teeth gritted, and his breathing turns ragged as he approaches the precipice of his own climax.

He can feel your nails digging into his back, your moans growing louder, and your hips bucking to meet his every movement. The bed creaks beneath you, a testament to the intensity of your love-making. His grip on your hips tightens, his strokes becoming more erratic as he fights to hold back the tide of pleasure threatening to consume him.

But the feeling of you, so wet and warm, your body responding to his every touch, is too much. With a final, guttural growl, Tyler surrenders to the explosion of ecstasy, burying himself deep inside you as he releases.

Your walls clench around him, milking him for all he's worth, and he collapses onto your chest, his breathing heavy and uneven. For a moment, the world stands still, your hearts pounding in sync as you both bask in the aftermath of your shared passion.

Then, with a soft smile, Tyler kisses your forehead, whispering, "I've been waiting for this for so long." You wrap your arms around him, feeling the same overwhelming love and satisfaction, knowing that this is just the beginning of a love story that has been years in the making.

Tyler flips onto his back, bringing you with him so that you straddle his waist, his still-hard length nestled between your thighs. He brushes your hair off your sweaty forehead, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and love as he looks up at you. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice still thick with passion.

You lean down to kiss him, your breasts brushing against his chest as you move to capture his mouth with yours. The kiss is gentle, filled with the sweetness of a love that's been realized.

His hands slide down to your hips, his fingers tracing the curves of your body as you begin to rock against him, his length sliding through your slick folds. He groans into the kiss, his body responding to your movements. You break the kiss, looking down at him with a smoldering gaze.

With a newfound confidence, you guide Tyler's still-throbbing cock into your wetness, straddling him as you begin to ride his length once again. Your hips move in a slow, sensual rhythm, taking him deep inside you as you gaze into his eyes, which are now filled with a mix of love and unbridled desire.

His hands grip your waist, his thumbs pressing into your hips as he lifts you up and down, urging you to go faster, deeper. The friction sends sparks of pleasure through your body, igniting a fire that seems to never die out. Each movement feels like a declaration of love, a silent promise that this is where you both belong.

Tyler's eyes never leave yours as he watches you take control, his admiration for your beauty and strength growing with every moan that escapes your lips. You lean forward, pressing your chest against his, feeling his heart hammer against yours as you move in perfect sync. The room is filled with the sounds of passion—the slap of skin on skin, the wetness of your union, and the unspoken words of love that hang in the air like a sweet, intoxicating perfume.

Tyler's eyes flare with desire, and with a smirk, he takes control, his hips rising to meet your every move. The intimate dance of your bodies continues, each of you learning the other's rhythm, the other's needs. The room is filled with the sound of your skin slapping together, your breathy moans and his deep, needy groans.

The tension builds again, coiling tighter and tighter in your bellies until you're both on the edge once more. Then, with a final, desperate thrust, Tyler arches up into you, his eyes squeezed shut as he finds his release, his body trembling beneath yours. You follow shortly after, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, leaving you both gasping for breath as you collapse into a tangled heap of limbs.

The only sounds in the room are your panting breaths and the soft whispers of "I love you" as you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the weight of your shared love and passion pressing down on you in the most delicious way possible.

As the intensity of your shared passion subsides, Tyler showers your face with gentle kisses, his love for you written in every tender touch. His arms wrap around you tightly, holding you close as if he never wants to let go. You melt into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart a comforting reminder of the connection you now share.

The room is bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, painting the walls with shades of pink and orange. With a contented sigh, you snuggle closer, feeling the weight of the day's revelations and the promise of a future filled with passion and love.

As the night stretches out before you, you know that this is just the start of a journey you'll take together, hand in hand, heart to heart. The air is thick with the scent of your combined arousal, a scent that fills the room with a sense of belonging and desire that neither of you can ignore. With one final, lingering kiss, Tyler rolls over, pulling you with him so that you're both lying on your sides, your legs entwined.

“Tell me this isn’t a one time thing,” you mumble against his tan skin as you cuddle closer to him.

His arms tighten around you as you cuddle against him, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your skin. He tilts his head down to kiss the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your hair. “This is definitely not a one time thing,” he reassures you, his voice soft yet firm.

He pulls you closer, his arms encircling you like a protective cocoon. “I want this, I want you. For as long as you’ll have me.” A smile creeps up on your lips as you kiss his chest.

”Then will you take me on a proper date tomorrow?” Breathing in his scent as you close your eyes. Tyler gently pulls the covers up higher, enveloping you in a comforting warmth. He strokes your hair idly as you settle against his chest.

"Of course, sweetheart," he murmurs, his heart swelling with affection. "I'll take you out for the best damn date you've ever been on." He kisses the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment. "I'll make sure it's perfect, just like you."

He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, his breath warm and comforting, as the rhythm of his chest rising and falling lulls you into a peaceful slumber. The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the warmth of each other's arms, basking in the afterglow of your first night as lovers.

[driverlando]

✧.* PARTNER SWAP

synopsis- Carlos and Lando are caught in a partner swap scandal

before you continue: It’s been a while since I’ve done an smau so I’m glad to be back lol. reblogs and feedback are appreciated also thanks to the anon who requested the article! enjoyyyy :)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

f1wagsgossip

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f1wagsgossip who do we think this is about? 👀

via Deuxmoi

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user1 Charles and Max 💯

↳ user2 nah, they’re more likely to cheat on their partners FOR eachother 😂

user3 I’m sensing Pierre and Lance vibes over here 🤮

user4 hear me out…Lando and Carlos?

↳ user2 yeah, this might be it. did you see how lando was looking at Carlos’ gf in the paddock? plus Carlos likes every single one of Landos gfs posts…

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Scandal Rocks F1: Carlos Sainz and Lando Norris Caught in Shocking Partner-Swap Drama!

By: Sasha, Rumour Radar

The glamorous world of Formula 1 has been rocked by an explosive scandal involving two of its brightest stars, Carlos Sainz and Lando Norris. In a stunning twist worthy of a soap opera, the drivers have been caught in a jaw-dropping partner-swap scandal. Sources reveal that Carlos has been involved in an affair with Lando’s partner, while simultaneously, Lando has been cheating on his partner with Carlos’ significant other. The shocking revelations have left fans and insiders reeling.

The Double Betrayal Uncovered

The tangled web of deceit came to light after a series of discreet encounters and secretive rendezvous. It appears that both Sainz and Norris have been seeing each other’s partners behind closed doors, all while maintaining the façade of happy relationships in their public lives.

According to insiders, the affair between Carlos and Lando’s partner began several months ago. The two reportedly grew close during a series of social events and shared interests, sparking a connection that eventually led to clandestine meetings. Meanwhile, in a parallel storyline, Lando and Carlos’ partner were seen enjoying intimate dinners and private get-togethers, raising eyebrows among close friends and associates.

The Timeline of Events

The dual affairs seemed to have been orchestrated with meticulous care, with both drivers and their partners going to great lengths to keep their indiscretions under wraps. However, in the tight-knit world of Formula 1, secrets rarely stay hidden for long. A few chance sightings and whispered rumours eventually led to a full-blown scandal, as details of the affairs began to leak out.

Friends of both couples were reportedly shocked by the revelations. “It’s like something out of a movie,” one source close to the situation commented. “Nobody saw this coming, and now everyone is scrambling to make sense of it all.”

Reactions from the F1 Community

The scandal has sent shockwaves through the F1 community, with fellow drivers, team members, and fans struggling to process the news. While both Sainz and Norris have maintained a professional rivalry on the track, their personal entanglements have now added a new layer of tension to their dynamic.

Social media has been ablaze with reactions, with fans expressing a mix of shock, disappointment, and curiosity. “Carlos and Lando’s partner-swap? This is the biggest scandal F1 has seen in years!” one fan tweeted. Another wrote, “I can’t believe it. They always seemed so happy with their partners. What a mess.”

The Fallout

As the dust begins to settle, the fallout from this scandal is expected to be significant. Both drivers and their partners are facing intense scrutiny and public interest, with questions swirling about the future of their relationships. Will they try to salvage their original partnerships, or has the betrayal cut too deep?

There is also speculation about how this drama will affect the drivers’ performance on the track. The intense emotions and public attention could potentially impact their focus and team dynamics, adding another layer of intrigue to the upcoming races.

What’s Next?

While neither Carlos Sainz nor Lando Norris has publicly commented on the situation, the F1 world is holding its breath, waiting for an official statement or response. Both drivers have always been known for their professionalism, but this personal scandal presents a challenge unlike any they’ve faced before.

As fans and insiders continue to dissect the unfolding drama, one thing is clear: this scandal has already become one of the most talked-about stories in recent F1 history. Whether it leads to lasting consequences or fades into the background as a passing storm remains to be seen.

For now, the world watches as these drivers navigate the tricky terrain of public scandal and personal betrayal.

Stay tuned for more updates on this unfolding story, as we bring you the latest from the world of Formula 1, both on and off the track.

—

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landoexgf

liked by carlossainz55, user23 and 23,578 others

landoexgf date nights with bae ✨

tagged: @/carlossainz55

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carlosexgf

liked by landonorris, user34 and 22,357 others

carlosexgf summer break so far 💘

tagged: @/landonorris

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✧.* the interview

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[snooyaki]

이찬연 — BARISTA BOY ☂︎ CH. I

a/n: my first ever written work on tmblr wooo 🥳 if this receives good feedback i’ll be willing to turn this into a series! hope you enjoy 💗

‘DONT CRY … DONT CRY.’ anton repeated to himself, feeling the lump forming in his throat as his eyes couldn’t help but begin to grow glossy. having a full mental breakdown in the middle of brewing up a coffee for a costumer was not an option for the boy. anton sniffled, a shaky exhale releasing from his trembling lips as he finished off his cappuccino with his signature leaf art. what a sad looking leaf it was. anton took a deep exhale, placing the coffee cup down as he pushed it forwards against the counter. ‘speak… you can do it..’

“o-order for minyoung?” anton’s delicate voice cracked.

the boy mentally cussed at himself, watching in fear as the scary woman he had encountered earlier stomped her way up to the counter, anton flinching with every clack of her heels. the woman’s sharp wrinkly eyes glared daggers at the anxious boy who couldn’t help but gulp at the sight.

“finally got my order right??” the woman’s icy tone spat, as anton quickly nodded his head. “y-yes maam… i apologize again for the inconvenience…” anton managed to speak despite his heart rate going off the charts.

anton was having a shitty day.

the boy had woken up that morning and not a thing was going his way. he had slept through his alarm and missed his bus on the way to work, resulting in being scolded by his manager. he had burned himself on one of the steamers, causing a mug to fall and shatter. not to mention the rude customers. anton did not know what was going on today, as it seemed that everyone was not having a good day. especially him.

anton was an emotional boy, one who got overwhelmed easily. today was taking a toll on him. it was mentally and physically draining to contain his tears and his thoughts. he just needed to make it through the day, he kept telling himself.

“excuse me,”

anton paused, eyes widening slightly in realization. he had been staring down at the cash register lost in his thoughts as a customer was patiently waiting for him to come back to his senses. god he was embarrassed. could this day get any worse? the boy lifted his head, ready to apologize to the customer before his words got stuck in his throat at the sight before him.

“… hi,” y/n smiled warmly, gazing up at anton with kind yet curious eyes. “you’re anton lee … right?” her soft voice rang out, a bright and comforting aura radiating off the girl.

anton stared at the girl in disbelief, the tips of his ears slowly beginning to turn a deep shade of red. out of all days his crush could have shown up at his work, it just had to be today? anton shook his head as he snapped back to his senses, a soft chuckle and forced smile came from the boy.

“yeah … yeah that’s me.” he spoke, rubbing the nape of his neck awkwardly, before meeting her gaze. “you’re y/n l/n … right?”

of course, anton knew who she was. everyone in their school knew who she was. y/n was a star student, known for her good grades, kind soul, and her beauty. it wasn’t a surprise that anton began crushing on y/n in the beginning of tenth grade after being in three out of the six classes a day for a whole year. it had all started the first day of school, when y/n had spoken to him for the first and the last time.

ೀ

“excuse me!” a hurried voice spoke, catching anton’s attention as the boy curiously turned around, his gaze instantly shooting down. there she was, in all her glory.

y/n gazed up at the boy with a kind smile, holding out a familiar navy-blue notebook in front of the boy. “here, your notebook. you left it in the classroom.” she hummed, as anton’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“oh …” anton muttered, slowly taking the notebook from the girl, a small smile lifting on his lips.

anton could feel his heart beating out of his chest as he stared at her pretty smile. “thanks …” he had managed to speak, before the girl had nodded her head.

“of course,” y/n smiled, before retreating to her friends. anton watched as she walked down the hallway, laughing and giggling with her friends. he watched her until she had disappeared in the large crowd of students.

“anton…?” sohee spoke, not snapping the boy out of his daydreams.

“anton… why are you so red?!”

  ೀ

although of course, anton had no intentions on pursuing her. y/n was way out of his league, or that’s what he believed. he was a silent admirer and planned on keeping it that way.

well, until today.

the girl nodded her head enthusiastically at anton’s question, delighted that he had remembered her name. “mhm! i didn’t know you worked here… this is quite a famous coffee shop.” y/n chuckled softly in attempts to make small conversation with the quiet boy.

anton felt his heart skip a few beats at the sound of her melodic giggle, nibbling his lip anxiously before nodding his head. “ive been working here for a few months now…” anton spoke, his eyes not being able to trail away from the girl’s face as she scanned the menu. anton couldn’t get his eyes off her. it was like he was stuck in a trance, analyzing every feature on her face. her beauty marks, her hair, the way her eyes sparkled excitedly while deciding what she was going to drink.

“make me your favourite order here. i want to try something new.” y/n eagerly spoke, taking anton for surprise. he had never had a customer ask for that before, but he was willing to do it. especially for her.

anton finally gathered the courage to show a little smile, nodding his head in approval at her request. “sure. i’ll make you something good.” anton stated, earning an excited smile from the other.

anton didn’t know what was with him in that moment. he felt a surge of confidence rise. ‘its now or never …’.

“it’s on me,” anton added, his eyes gazing down at his crush, watching as her expression quickly falter. anton rang it through the register before she was able to protest, chuckling at the sight of her shoulders falling in defeat.

“you didn’t have to do that anton…” y/n frowned, almost as if she was glaring at him in disappointment. anton looked down at the floor, a soft blush rising over his cheeks mentally preparing himself to meet her eyes again.

“but… i wanted to.” anton managed to say, his eyes searching for a reaction from the girl.

anton swore he saw her blush. he swore by it, but the self-doubt was convincing him otherwise. he couldn’t tell if he was imagining things. “it’ll be ready at the end of the counter.” anton then added, snapping y/n out of her thoughts.

the girl then showed off her signature smile, letting out a breath she hadn’t even realized she had been holding in. “thank you anton.” she hummed.

anton’s day was suddenly, not so shitty anymore. he couldn’t help but smile as he made her order the whole time, silently giggling to himself as he thought. he talked to you. he had finally talked to you again. something he had been meaning to do for two years. it finally happened.

anton gazed down at the cup, focusing hard on the heart he hadn’t even realized he made on your latte, resulting in a soft blush when he came to his senses. anton grabbed a lid, placing it over the cup as he let out a soft exhale in preparation before making his way towards the end of the counter.

“order for y/n!” he called out, catching her attention.

y/n gazed up from her phone, shutting it off as she stuffed it into her jacket pocket. the girl then made her way over to anton, grabbing the cup from the shy boy. she examined the way he had written her name. ‘y/n ᵕ̈ ‘ it read in his hand writing. she felt like she could stare at it for days, as a smile began slowly spreading over her face. y/n gazed up at the boy, letting out a soft chuckle. “thank you again anton.” she beamed, as anton gazed down at his feet, flustered.

“of course, y/n.”

the two shared a soft gaze, both in a comfortable silence unable to rip their gazes away, until you had spoken up. “i’ll see you at school…” y/n spoke, not breaking eye contact with anton once before slightly hesitating her next words. “dont be a stranger.” she stated, watching as anton shook his head at the girl. “i wont.” he stated back.

anton watched as the girl then began making her way out of the coffee shop. it saddened him a bit, to see her leave, her figure slipping past the door. but after his encounter with you, he couldn’t have been happier. anton stood there, smiling like an idiot. there were hearts practically surrounding the boy in love.

maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.

— nari ¨̮

#ˋ ୨୧ ˊTAGS !

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Vox Machina reacting to gn crush telling him/her that they had been told by their crushes that they're not good-looking and interesting please?

Vax thinks that’s an utter bollocks statement to make, especially since it was coming from someone you had feelings towards.

This absolute sweetheart would sit by you under a blanket of stars and keep you company until he thought you were ready to get back on your feet and show the fucker what they were missing out on.

‘They speak the universal language of bullshit.’ He’d say, which made you laugh in how he worded it. ‘I’m being serious! They don’t fucking know what they’ve missed out on, so don’t be too sad because they knew you were out of their reach and didn’t want to admit it out of their own pride.’ He adds as he allowed you to toy with his dagger

‘Still hurts though.’ You murmured as you tossed the dagger into the air and catching it by the handle as it comes down again. Vax frowns before nudging you in the side playfully.

‘Hey, it may suck now but sooner or later we’re going to look back on this and laugh at how much of a loser they were and how much better off you were without them to tie you down.’ He says and you look at him deeply before smiling. ‘Yeah they were a bit bland featured to be honest.’ You shyly admitted as vax laughed.

‘They’re bland as fuck and you are not, they’re a cunt and your far better then to let that twat have any ounce of power over you in any aspect, oh we can go see if I can pickpocket the bastard for everything their worth? Would that cheer you up?’ Vax asked as you mulled over the idea in your head, but it didn’t take long for you to want to see chaos ensue and you were quick to agree.

You and vax then ran off into the night like two giggling idiots, feeling a thousand times better then you were before.

Vex

‘Oh sweetheart that isn’t true, far from it.’ She’d say as she holds your face, wiping away your tears from your cheeks.

‘Then why would they say it.’ You said as you looked to her for answers within her eyes and Vex couldn’t help but feel her heart crack for you.

‘They’re not worth your tears, none at all if this is how they’re going to make you feel all the time.’ Vex told you as her bear companion huffed and cuddled into your side, sensing your sadness and distress and you were quick to run your hand through their fur in silent thanks.

‘I guess I shouldn’t have expected so much from them to begin with. After all nothing is set in stone.’ You murmured under your breath. ‘But it still hurts regardless.’

‘And it will my dear, it will hurt but sometimes it can motivate us into going the path we were meant to all along.’ Vex replied as watched you and trinket interact with hope in her heart that you’ll be okay, that you’ll be alright in due time.

‘Thanks vex, I really needed to hear that today.’ You tell her, only for trinket to huff as you laugh and ruffle their fur, ‘and yes thank you too trinket, thank you for the emotional support.’

Trinket huffed again but this time in triumph.

Percy wouldn’t know how to comfort you at first but would find it easier to just let you air out your grievances instead.

‘They said I’m bland and unappealing! Only to then call me childish when I showed that I wasn’t happy being called such, claiming I can’t handle the truth.’ You groaned as you fell in to the empty chair that awaited you. ‘What a fucking joke.’ You murmured.

‘What they said is uncalled for and rude on all accounts,’ Percy said calmly, ‘they claim it’s true but from the stories you’ve told me about them, they’re the most boring and unpleasant person to ever engage in a conversation with without feeling the need to bring up your topic of the weather.’ He adds and you snorted at his sarcastic tone.

‘Yeah, they do tend to find the most boring things and talk about them for hours, how I thought that was attractive I’ll never know, blinded I guess.’ You shrugged as you both began to shit talk about your former crush and nitpick at their every aspect with scrutinising detail.

‘They cannot tie a cravat properly to save his life.’ Percy quipped.

‘They avoid taverns because they don’t like the liveliness of them, nor the rowdiness.’ You add.

Percy scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘Pretentious prick.’

You jolted forward in your seat towards him as though you were going to tell him a secret. ‘He’s not even from a well known enough family for that Percy’s they just wanna act like they are.’ You swore you saw Percy smile before he hid it behind his hand.

‘How embarrassing.’ He mumbles.

‘I know right?!’ You exclaimed as throughout the night you and Percy spend most of it together and shit talking the rejection away.

Keyleth would immediately try to disprove this by taking you out to her garden and showing you all the flowers.

‘Why am I here keyleth? To show how unappealing I am in comparison to pretty flowers?’ You asked.

‘No! I brought you here to show that every flower within my garden is no less loved than the other, all of them are watered and properly cared for regardless of how they look or what they smell like.’ Keyleth replied as she made you look at the daises, lavenders, chrysanthemums, water lilies, thistle, roses, Lilly of the valley and many more as thought they were a kaleidoscope of beauty in all its forms.

‘They are indeed all beautiful in their own unique way.’ You mumbled as you brushed one of the petals of a rose. Keyleth smiled as she put her hands on your shoulders and giving them a squeeze.

‘All flowers are loved by someone and you will find someone who will love you just as much as a Gardner loves their flowers.’ She reassured you in a sweet yet calming voice. ‘For you are worthy of love just like these flowers and you’ll find them, it just takes a little time and patience to happen. So hold on tight because someone is out there looking for the prettiest flower; you.’ She finished and you smiled back at her, resting your hands on top of hers, feeling reassured.

‘Thanks keyleth, I really needed it.’ You replied.

Grog

‘Well they’re stupid.’ He’d say in response.

‘but what if they’re right?’ You asked, defeated. ‘What if I am boring and unappealing?’

Grog huffs. ‘Bullshit. You’re far from either boring or unappealing, they’re just weak shit and cowardly because they know they can’t handle someone like you.’

You’d lean into his side and smiling softly. ‘Thanks for cheering me up Grog, I really needed it.’

‘No problem buddy.’ He smiles as he pats your head as a moment of silence passed between you two. ‘So…do you wanna fuck up some bad guys to relive the stress?’ He then asks and you smiled at him.

‘You don’t even have to ask.’ You tell him as you both set off to kick some ass.

[insidekatmind]

"Under the Parisian Sky"- Trent Alexander Arnold

The sun was gently setting behind the majestic silhouette of the Eiffel Tower, painting the sky with shades of pink, orange, and purple. Paris, with its timeless beauty, seemed to have stepped out of a love fairy tale. The streets were crowded with tourists and Parisians, but at that moment, everything seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you.

"Do you like it, my love?" asked Trent Alexander-Arnold, his English accent making you melt every time. His brown eyes, as deep as molten chocolate, shone with a special light as he gazed at you with infinite tenderness. His warm hand wrapped around yours with such gentleness, as if the entire world was held within that simple gesture.

"It's perfect, Trent," you replied, letting your gaze get lost in the wonder of the view. "I couldn't have imagined a better place to be with you."

"I knew you'd like it," he said with a sweet, knowing smile. "But it's not over yet, my love."

You tilted your head to the side, curious. "Oh yeah? What else do you have in mind, Mr. Alexander-Arnold?" you asked with a mischievous, playful smile.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You'll find out soon, my princess. For now, just trust me."

You continued walking along the cobblestone streets, hand in hand. Every so often, Trent would stop in front of a flower stall or a street artist, his sincere curiosity for the little things in the city on full display. That was just like him — always attentive to details, just like on the football pitch. And it was this very way of being that made you fall in love with him more each day.

"Shall we go there?" he suggested, pointing to a small pier overlooking the Seine. It was a secluded spot, away from the bustle, with a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower, which now glowed with thousands of golden lights like a jewel in the heart of Paris's night.

"It's beautiful," you said, stopping beside him. The cool air caressed your skin, and the scent of the Seine's water mixed with that of wildflowers. It was as if nature itself wanted to bless this moment.

"Yeah, it is," he replied, but his gaze wasn't on the Eiffel Tower. It was on you.

You turned toward him, your heart beginning to beat faster. There was something different in his eyes, a light you had never seen before. His smile was tender, but also serious.

"What's wrong?" you asked, suddenly aware of the silence between you.

"I want to tell you something," he said, taking a deep breath. His fingers fidgeted nervously with the edge of his jacket. "Actually, I want to ask you something."

You frowned, your heart now racing wildly in your chest. "Trent, are you okay?" you asked, a hint of concern in your voice.

He laughed, but there was a note of sweet nervousness in his voice. "Yeah, I'm okay. I’m just… I’m just a little emotional." Then he took a step back and slid a hand into his pocket. When his hand reemerged, he was holding a small blue velvet box. Your breath caught in your throat.

"No…" you whispered, bringing a hand to your mouth. "Trent, I don't believe it…"

He got down on one knee, pressing his knee against the cold surface of the pier. Around you, the world seemed to freeze. Every sound of the city softened, and the only thing you could hear was the frantic pounding of your heart.

"My love," he began, lifting his eyes to meet yours. His eyes glowed with emotion. "Since you came into my life, everything changed. You made every day brighter, every moment more special. I can't imagine my future without you by my side."

Your vision blurred from the tears welling up in your eyes. You couldn’t speak, your throat tight with emotion.

"I want to be there for you — in every joyful moment and every challenge. I want to be the man who makes you smile, who supports you, who loves you more and more every day." He opened the box, revealing a ring with a diamond that sparkled like the stars above you. "Will you marry me?"

A tear slid down your cheek, followed by another, and another still. A wave of overwhelming emotion swept over you. Your voice came out trembling but firm.

"Yes, Trent. Yes, I want to marry you!" you exclaimed, letting the tears stream freely down your face.

He laughed with joy, getting to his feet and pulling you into a tight embrace, spinning you around. His arms wrapped around you with such strength, and your hands clung to his shoulders as if to make sure you’d never let him go.

"I love you," he whispered against your ear, his voice full of emotion.

"I love you too, Trent. I love you more than words can explain," you replied, burying your face in his neck, the scent of his skin bringing you comfort and peace.

Paris, the city of love, had now become the symbol of your promise. And under the golden lights of the Eiffel Tower, you both vowed to love each other forever.

[angelremnants]

American Wedding | S. Rogers

summary : Steve Rogers is throwing himself into mission after mission, trying to outrun the weight of his past—his unresolved feelings for Sharon and the lingering memories of Peggy. But when his commanding officers force him to take a break, Steve ends up on a staycation in Barbados. What begins as a forced respite soon becomes a much-needed escape as he unexpectedly finds healing, peace, and even a connection in the warmth of the Caribbean sun. Steve learns to let go of the past and finally breathe again, even if it’s just for a short while. Inspired by American Wedding (unreleased) by Frank Ocean.

pairing : Steve Rogers x f!reader

warnings : Fluff to angst, imposed traits on the reader such as an origin, emotional healing, mention of past relationships, themes of healing and self-discovery, themes of arranged marriages and family pressure, mentions of emotional and familial abuse, a bit of hurt/comfort, bittersweet ending, mentions of past trauma, mild language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 12.1k

author's notes : I don't know what's wrong with me and writing long fics with major angst. I think I might have a problem.

If you're still as hooked in the MCU fandom as I am, then it shouldn't be a surprise for you that I stumbled upon the infamous Steve edit on American Wedding. Steve was my first little crush when I started getting into the MCU; it might not be my number one anymore, but I couldn't help but be mesmerized by the work and how well it could somehow fit the vibe of our golden boy.

Side note, I chose Barbados just because I love Rihanna (plus, the country is as gorgeous as she is). I tried to respect the culture as much as I could, but please do let me know if something is amiss. Anyways, here's my take on what this song could mean if associated with America's Ass greatest soldier.

(ao3 version)

The mission was over.

Steve Rogers had traded his usual Captain America tight suit for average civilian clothes and now stood just outside a bustling café in Bridgetown, the late afternoon sun casting a golden hue over the vibrant streets of Barbados. He should’ve been relieved. The intel was secured, the rogue operation dismantled, and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were already working to extract the rest of the loose ends. But instead, Steve felt a familiar weight settle on his shoulders, one he couldn’t quite shake.

The air was heavy with the scent of fried fish and spices, and the sound of calypso music drifted from a nearby street performer. Locals walked by, some glancing curiously at the tall, broad-shouldered man who looked distinctly out of place. Steve’s fingers hovered over his phone, debating whether to call in and request another assignment.

Then, his phone buzzed in his hand, and the name Tony Stark lit up the screen.

Steve answered with a sigh, already bracing himself. “Stark.”

“Capsicle! How’s my favorite star-spangled soldier doing?” Tony’s voice was chipper, the sound of clinking glasses and faint jazz music in the background.

“I’m fine,” Steve replied, scanning the street as though someone might overhear. “Why are you calling?”

“Well, it’s not to remind you to update your playlist based on what I’m hearing in the background—though, seriously, we need to talk about that at some point.” Tony didn’t wait for a response. “No, I’m calling to let you know that for the first time in, oh, forever, we’re at a lull. No alien invasions. No rogue A.I.s. No infinity stones threatening to wipe out half the universe. You know what that means?”

Steve frowned. “That it’s time to prepare for the next crisis?”

Tony let out a dramatic groan. “And people say I’m the workaholic. No, Cap. It means you get a break.”

Steve rolled his eyes, leaning against the café’s wooden railing. “I don’t need a break, Tony. There’s always something that needs to be done—”

“Yeah, no. I’m gonna stop you right there.” Tony’s voice turned pointed, though there was still a hint of his trademark sarcasm. “I talked to Fury, and even he thinks you’ve been overdoing it. And considering the guy’s idea of a vacation involves a bunker and a bottle of bourbon, that’s saying something.”

“I’m fine,” Steve insisted, his tone tightening.

“Fine? Really? I mean, do you even know what day it is? Look, pretty much everyone’s off the grid—Sam, Natasha, even Clint’s in retirement mode. And I’m finally getting around to that honeymoon thing with Pepper because, you know, saving the world isn’t as good for a marriage as you’d think. So you? You need to chill.”

“Tony, I’m fine,” Steve had insisted, though even he didn’t sound convincing.

“Yeah, sure. That’s why you’ve been taking back-to-back missions for the past three months. What’s next? Fighting a volcano?”

Steve opened his mouth to respond, then realized he didn’t.

Tony took his silence as confirmation. “Listen, you’re not a machine, Cap. Even super-soldiers need to decompress. Which is why I, in all my infinite wisdom, am forcing you to take some time off.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tony—”

“Ah-ah! No arguments. Fury’s covering part of the bill, and I’m picking up the rest because I’m such a generous friend. You pick the place—anywhere in the world—and I’ll make it happen. You’re welcome.”

Steve glanced around, his eyes lingering on the vibrant life of the island. The azure waters sparkled in the distance, and the rhythmic sway of the palm trees seemed to beckon him. He hadn’t allowed himself a moment to breathe in months, maybe years.

“I don’t know,” Steve said slowly.

Tony groaned again, louder this time. “Come on, Cap. It’s not like I’m asking you to take a yoga class in Malibu. Though, honestly, you’d kill it in downward dog. No, I’m telling you to pick a nice spot, kick back, and—God forbid—relax for once in your life.”

“Tony—”

“Let me paint you a picture,” Tony interrupted, his tone turning theatrical. “A beachfront villa. Sunsets so pretty they’ll make you cry. Maybe a fruity drink with one of those little umbrellas—wait, scratch that, you’re more of a ‘beer and brooding’ guy. The point is, take the damn vacation, Steve. Doctor’s orders.”

Steve sighed, looking out the window of the outpost at the vibrant streets of Bridgetown. “I’ll stay here,” he said finally. “Barbados seems… peaceful.”

“Atta boy!” Tony cheered. “I’ll wire the funds. And hey, if you don’t send me at least one picture of you in a Hawaiian shirt, I’m gonna be very disappointed.”

Steve couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Tony.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously, don’t. I have a reputation to maintain.”

The line went dead, leaving Steve alone with the sounds of the island.

⠀⠀

The first few days in Barbados passed in a blur of quiet solitude. Steve spent most of his time walking along the beach or sitting on the villa’s small porch, nursing a cold drink while the sun dipped below the horizon. For someone used to the constant hum of battlefields, strategy meetings, and high-stakes missions, the stillness was almost unnerving.

But it wasn’t just the quiet that unsettled him—it was the thoughts he’d been pushing aside for months. Thoughts of Sharon.

He’d tried not to dwell on their break-up, but here, surrounded by the warmth and beauty of the island, the memories crept in uninvited. Their relationship had ended just weeks ago, though the cracks had been there for far longer. She had been kind, understanding, and steadfast—everything Steve thought he should want. But every time he looked at her, a small, nagging voice whispered the truth he didn’t want to face.

She was Peggy’s niece.

No matter how much he tried to compartmentalize it, the connection was impossible to ignore. Every time Sharon smiled, there was a flicker of something familiar—her determination, her poise, even the way she carried herself. It wasn’t fair to either of them, but Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been chasing a shadow of the past. Sharon deserved more than that, and so did he.

When they’d finally called it quits, Sharon had been the one to speak the words he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“You’re still carrying her with you, Steve,” she’d said, her voice calm but heavy with resignation. “And maybe you always will. But I can’t be her for you. I don’t want to be.”

The guilt had followed him ever since. Sharon had been right. For all the years that had passed, Peggy still lingered in the corners of his mind—her voice, her laugh, the way she’d believed in him when no one else did. He hadn’t just been grieving Sharon’s absence; he was grieving Peggy all over again.

By the third day, Steve found himself wandering into a bustling part of Bridgetown, hoping the sights and sounds of the island might distract him. The streets were alive with energy—locals bartering at colorful market stalls, tourists snapping photos of historic buildings, and the rhythmic beat of soca music weaving through it all.

“Yuh lookin’ lost, boss,” a young man called out from behind a coconut cart. He was grinning, a machete in hand as he expertly cracked open a coconut.

Steve glanced back at him. “Just exploring.” 

“Ah, well, yuh gotta try dis,” the man said, handing him a freshly cut coconut. “Yuh look like yuh could use a lil’ taste of Bajan life. Fresh coconut water! Or yuh scared of a lil’ machete work?”

Steve smirked politely but didn’t respond, unsure if he was being teased or seriously invited. Before he could decide, you appeared, carrying a basket of fruits and shaking your head with a laugh.

“Jamal, stop tormenting de tourists!” you scolded lightheartedly. “Poor man just tryna enjoy ‘e day without you harassing him.”

Jamal shrugged with a grin, chopping open another coconut. “Ah, just showin’ him how we do it here, yuh know? He look like he need it.”

You turned to Steve, flashing a warm smile. “Ignore him, he does this to everyone. But,” you added, your tone playful, “he’s not wrong. Coconut water will fix whatever ails you. You should try one.”

Steve chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing. “If you say so,” he said, stepping closer.

You nodded approvingly as Jamal handed him the coconut. “See? That wasn’t so hard,” you teased.

Taking a sip, Steve found the cool water surprisingly refreshing. “This is good,” he admitted, glancing at you.

“Good?” you repeated with mock offense. “It’s de best on de island. You’ve got a lot to learn.”

Steve smiled, feeling more at ease than he had in days. “Guess I’ll need a guide, then,” he said, the words slipping out before he could overthink them.

You tilted your head, amusement sparkling in your eyes. “Lucky for you, I know everyone ‘round here. Stick with me, Captain America, and I’ll show you the real Barbados.”

He blinked, surprised you knew who he was.

“Relax,” you said with a wink. “We don’t make a big deal of celebrities' ‘round here. Besides, the way I see it, everybody needs a break—even heroes.”

He guessed he really did well in choosing his destination. 

Steve walked beside you through the busy streets, his coconut still in hand. The initial awkwardness of being recognized faded quickly as you carried the conversation effortlessly, your teasing making him smile more than he had in weeks.

“So, Captain America,” you said, throwing a glance over your shoulder with a grin. “What’s a hero like you doin’ walking ‘round alone in Barbados? Not enough trouble to save us from?”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Actually, I’m here because I was told to take a break. Guess I've been working a little too hard lately.”

“Working too hard? You? Never would’ve guessed,” you teased, your tone playful.

Steve shook his head, grinning. “What about you? You seem to know everyone here.”

“I do. Born and raised. And the people here? They’re my family—even Jamal, with his coconut antics,” you said with a laugh. “You stick wit’ me, and I’ll teach you all de secrets of the island.”

“Secrets, huh?” Steve said, his tone tinged with curiosity. “What kind of secrets?”

You stopped suddenly and gestured toward a small, colorful shack by the road. “For starters, the best fish cutters on the island are right here. Come, you can’t visit Barbados and not try one.”

Steve followed you to the shack, where an older man greeted you like an old friend. As you chatted easily with him, ordering food, Steve found himself watching you with a kind of quiet admiration. You were easygoing, quick to laugh, and had a warmth about you that was magnetic.

When the fish cutters arrived, you handed one to Steve. “Here. And don’t even think of saying it’s just ‘good.’ Dis is heaven in bread.”

He took a bite, his eyes widening. “Wow. Okay, you’re right—this is incredible.”

You smirked. “Told you. The locals always know best.”

As the two of you walked along the beach, the conversation grew more personal. You asked about his life back home, and he answered honestly, even about the heartbreak he was still trying to shake.

“So, this Sharon,” you said carefully, “she’s Peggy’s niece?”

Steve nodded, looking sheepish. “Yeah. It’s… complicated.”

“You think?” you teased gently, bumping your shoulder against his. “Sounds messy. But you know what? Sometimes you just need to let go of what’s complicated and hold on to what’s simple.”

“And what’s simple?” Steve asked, curious.

You stopped walking and turned to face him, your expression soft but playful. “This,” you said, gesturing to the ocean. “Good food, good company, and a little bit of adventure.” He smiled, the sincerity in your voice hitting him in a way he didn’t expect. “I think I’m starting to see your point.”

⠀⠀

Over the next few days, you made good on your promise to show Steve the best of Barbados. True to your word, you showed Steve places that weren’t in any guidebook, sharing bits of history and culture along the way.

“This,” you said one morning, gesturing to a vibrant, bustling market, “is where you get the freshest fruit on the island. And where you learn to bargain.”

Steve watched in awe as you haggled with a vendor, the two of you laughing and bantering in a mix of Bajan dialect and English. When you returned with a bag of mangos and papayas, he raised a brow.

“You just got all that for half the price,” he said.

“Yup,” you said with a grin, popping a slice of mango into your mouth. “You're lucky you've got me, Captain. Otherwise, they’d have charged you double for being a tourist.”

“Good thing I’ve got you,” he said, his tone warm.

Later, you took him to a rum distillery, where you explained the process of making Barbados’ world-famous rum, teasing him as he tried a sample and coughed slightly at the burn.

“That strong for you, Cap?”

“Not strong enough to knock me out,” he replied, his voice laced with humor.

You then took him to the lively Oistins Fish Fry, where he tried grilled marlin and danced awkwardly but earnestly to soca music. You dragged him to Harrison’s Cave, laughing as he marveled at the limestone formations.

“You look like a kid seeing snow for de first time,” you teased.

“I’ve been frozen in snow for seventy years,” he replied, deadpan.

You burst out laughing, and even he cracked a smile at his own joke.

One afternoon, you led him on a hike up to Cherry Tree Hill, where the view of the rolling hills and turquoise ocean was breathtaking. As you stood beside him, the wind tugging at your dress, you glanced at him with a smile.

“You're not bad company, you know,” you said.

“Neither are you,” he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting in that signature half-smile.

“You keep looking at me like that, and I might think you’re sweet on me, Captain.”

Steve’s cheeks flushed faintly, but he held your gaze. “And what if I am?”

Your eyebrows shot up, surprised but delighted. “Well, then,” you said, stepping closer, “I hope you know you’re in for one hell of a ride.”

As the two of you strolled along a quieter path near the beach, the sunlight danced through the palm trees, and Steve couldn’t help but feel a sense of calm he hadn’t experienced in months. He looked over at you, smiling at how animatedly you were explaining the significance of the bright kites dotting the sky—something about “kite season” and friendly neighborhood competitions.

“You know,” Steve said after a moment, “your accent isn’t quite like everyone else’s around here. It’s still got that lilt, but… it’s different.”

You glanced at him, a little surprised. “You noticed that, huh?”

He nodded. “I guess I’ve got an ear for detail. What’s the story there?”

You smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Well, I went abroad for a few years—took my undergrad in the U.S. and just came back home recently.”

“Really?” Steve asked, intrigued. “What’d you study?”

As you walked beside Steve, your voice became more animated as you shared the kind of work you had done during your studies. “Well, when I was in the States for my undergrad, I did my thesis on cultural practices, specifically exploring the dynamics between traditional marriage structures and modern society.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really? That sounds… complex. What kind of structures?”

“Yuh know, I looked into things like arranged marriages and how they vary across different cultures,” you explained, eyes sparkling with passion. “One part of my research focused on Islamic marriage traditions, particularly around the roles of brides and how modern perspectives are influencing those practices. It wasn’t about judging or anything, just trying to understand how people make it work, despite some of the harsh stereotypes.”

“Wow,” Steve said thoughtfully, clearly impressed. “Sounds like you dove deep into it. You didn’t go for the easy topics, huh?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “No, not really. I wanted to tackle something meaningful. And, for me, it was important to explore how even with things like hijabs or polygamy, those traditions have layers, especially when it comes to women’s agency. It’s all about perspective.”

Steve nodded, clearly fascinated by your work. “It’s amazing how much you can learn when you dig into a topic. I guess that’s why you came back here, huh? To work on making a difference in your community.”

You smiled softly, thinking back on your time abroad. “Yeah. I learned a lot, but I always knew I’d come home. There’s so much to do here, and I want to make sure we’re not losing our identity as we modernize. Barbados is home, and I want to help make sure it stays that way.”

You laughed at the thought, shrugging. “Guess it’s de island girl in me. This place is part of who I am. But,” you added with a sheepish grin, “spendin’ so much time abroad, I guess I picked up a bit of de American accent. It slips in sometimes when I talk.”

“I think it’s kind of charming,” Steve said, surprising even himself with the comment.

You raised a brow at him, a slow smile spreading across your lips. “Careful, Captain, or I might think you’re tryin’ to sweet-talk me.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish but amused. “Maybe I am.”

Your laugh rang out, light and melodic. ��Well, you’re not too bad at it.”

At one point, while they were sitting on a beachside bench, a gentle breeze tugging at their clothes, Steve caught her eye, and she smiled. That smile. He swore it was the brightest thing in the world, even more stunning than the sun hanging low in the sky behind her.

The conversation continued, with Steve steering it back toward you. He asked about your time abroad, what it was like living away from home, and what made you choose environmental science in the first place.

“And what about you?” you countered, tilting your head as you studied him. “You’ve been saving the world for what—over a century now?”

He chuckled. “Not quite that long, but close.”

“Doesn’t seem like you’re slowin’ down anytime soon,” you said, your voice softer now. “But, Steve… don’t you ever just want to stop for a bit? Live a little for yourself?”

Your question caught him off guard. For a moment, he was quiet, the only sounds around you were the gentle crash of waves and the rustle of the wind in the trees.

“I guess I don’t know how to do that,” he admitted.

As you sat on the beach watching the sun dip below the horizon, you turned to Steve with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“So,” you began, “how do you feel about weddings?”

He looked at you warily. “Weddings?”

“Yeah. My… um, distant relative—you probably need a map to figure out how we’re related—is getting married this weekend. It’s a small thing,” you said, “But it’s a family event. You know how it is—everyone wants to show up and make it ‘extra’ for the aunties.”

Steve chuckled. “I’m guessing it’s not going to be your average wedding then?”

“Oh, no,” you grinned, “Think small chapel, a few too many drinks, maybe a bit of dancing, and a lot of awkward family members trying to act like they haven’t been feuding for the past ten years. But, you know, in the best way possible.”

Steve found himself laughing along with you, the ease between you two growing stronger by the minute.

“Actually,” you said with a mischievous grin, “It’s going to be kind of hilarious. I was thinking…” You paused, glancing over at him. “You wanna come with me? As my… plus one?”

Steve blinked in surprise, but there was something about the way you said it, as if you didn’t mind the idea of being together at such a personal family event. “I mean, are you sure? I’m probably not what your family had in mind when they thought ‘plus one,’” he joked, a smile tugging at his lips.

You shrugged, the motion casual, but your gaze was intense. “Honestly, I don’t think anyone really knows what they’re getting when they invite me. And trust me, you’ll be far more interesting than the rest of my relatives.” You glanced at him sideways with a grin. “Besides, maybe they’ll like you more than me.”

“Are you trying to get me to go to your wedding as an act of charity?” he teased.

You laughed. “No, I’m offering you a chance to be part of something completely ridiculous, and trust me, you’ll be talking about it for years.”

“Well, in that case,” Steve said, pretending to think it over, “I guess I’ll be there. But you’ve got to warn me beforehand if there’s any kind of dancing involved. I’m not exactly a pro.”

Your grin widened. “Deal.”

⠀⠀

You had parted your ways when it was well into the night, and soon enough, Steve found himself back in his quaint hotel room, listening to the peaceful waves of the ocean. He laid on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind drifting back to the hours he’d spent with you earlier.

He couldn’t help but replay the way you looked again and again in his mind. The first thing that struck him was how effortlessly beautiful you were. Your skin had looked golden when it caught the sunlight, in a way that made everything around you seem brighter, like you were glowing from within. Your hair had framed your face in soft waves, a contrast to your sun-kissed skin that made you seem like you belonged to the island itself. It hadn’t just been the way you looked, though; it had been the way you carried yourself. You had moved with such ease, like you were perfectly in tune with the world around you, as though every step was measured but never forced.

Your eyes—those eyes—were a shade that had seemed almost impossible, warm and deep, with a spark that made it clear you were fully present, fully alive in every conversation. When you spoke, it had been with an accent that was distinctly Barbadian, but there was a softness to it, a hint of something else—like you’d been somewhere far from home and had returned with more layers than when you left. Your smile had been what had undone him, though. It hadn’t just been the way it lit up your face, but the way it had made him feel like he was the only one in the world you were focusing on, even if it had been just for a moment.

And it hadn’t just been your looks—Steve knew he hadn’t felt this way about someone in years, the way his heart had seemed to skip when you caught his gaze, the way the mere thought of you had made him feel like a teenager again, nervous and unsure but eager all the same. The more he thought about you, the more the feeling had intensified, like a slow burn in his chest. He had tried to push it down, telling himself it had just been the heat, just the newness of it all, but deep down, he had known it wasn’t that simple. He had found something in you, something that had made the weight of everything else just… fade away.

The way you had laughed, your smile so effortless, like you were a living embodiment of the sun that bathed the island in warmth. There had been something about you that had made his chest tighten—something magnetic, yet disarmingly genuine. He had expected a brief distraction on this trip, maybe a drink with a stranger. Instead, you had effortlessly captivated him. Your energy had been infectious, and even in the quiet moments, you had a way of drawing him in. The little quirks of your accent, the way you’d pause mid-sentence to correct yourself, as if speaking a second language you hadn’t used in too long—there had been a vulnerability in it that had made you all the more endearing.

And then there had been the tattoo. That damn tattoo. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He had barely even paid attention to it at first, but after spending hours with you, it had stood out more, like a proud branding. A temporary tattoo you had convinced him to get while you were strolling around. It had been a simple design, a swirling wave pattern across his left hand, something that had matched the feeling of freedom he’d had with you that day. He had looked down at his hand now, the ink still vivid, but with a hint of purple-ish blue where it was starting to fade. You had laughed when he’d rolled up his sleeve to show you, clearly impressed by how well it had suited him. He had never thought he’d have fun getting a tattoo, temporary or not, but the experience had been entirely different with you. Everything had felt light, effortless, fun.

As his mind had wandered further, Steve had found himself imagining something he hadn’t thought about in a long time: the future. The thought of you in a wedding gown, walking down the aisle toward him, had made his heart race. He couldn’t help but picture it, absurdly vivid—you, laughing under the lights, your eyes sparkling as you smiled at him in that way only you could. He’d be there, in a tux, grinning like a fool, probably fumbling over his vows. He could almost hear the judge’s voice, telling them to kiss, and there you’d be—his wife, laughing with him as you made it official in a courthouse with nothing but your hearts and a rush of love propelling you forward. The thought had made him shake his head in surprise, crimson adorning his cheeks. It had been ridiculous, yet it had felt so very real. He had been falling for you in ways he never thought possible.

He had tried to focus on other things—his next move, the mission he had just completed—but as much as he had tried, the tattoo had kept pulling his attention back to you. It hadn’t just been the design; it had been the way it had been something shared between you. A small, playful gesture, but one that had made the whole day feel… connected. He had smiled to himself, the thought of you making his heart race again. He had shifted uncomfortably under the covers, trying to shake off the sudden rush of warmth that had pooled in his stomach.

But as much as he had tried to focus on other things, your laugh had kept echoing in his mind, and the image of you running after his vehicle earlier that day had kept replaying, like something out of a dream he didn’t want to wake from. It had been a feeling he hadn’t realized he’d missed—the easy excitement of getting to know someone new. He had rolled over onto his side, trying to get some rest, but his mind wouldn’t quiet. No, he had thought to himself, he wasn’t about to start feeling this way about you. Not now, not when he had so much left unsaid, so many wounds still open. But as sleep had slowly begun to pull him under, that feeling—warm and electric—had lingered in the back of his mind, making it hard to ignore the undeniable pull he had felt toward you.

⠀⠀

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the streets as Steve revved the engine of the bright red 5.0 Mustang he’d rented for his trip. He’d opted for the car, not just for the joy of driving it, but because he thought it might impress you. Plus, he couldn’t deny that he wanted to show off a little, especially when he’d be picking you up from university. He’d learned from your conversations how much effort you’d put into your education and your dedication to your work, and he was eager to see where you spent your days.

He parked the Mustang in front of the university building, its polished surface gleaming under the late afternoon sun. His eyes scanned the steps, waiting for you to appear. He’d offered to take you to the wedding, knowing how much it meant to you. He’d also taken the time to ensure he had the right attire, knowing it would be expected of him. He wanted to be the gentleman. But it wasn’t just about impressing your family; it was about showing you that he respected you, that he was willing to step into your world, no matter how different it might be from his.

Soon, you appeared on the steps, a bundle of papers clutched in your hand—ones you needed to submit for your master’s application—as you hurried down toward him. You wore a light sundress that floated around your figure as you walked toward him, and Steve couldn’t help but notice the way the late afternoon sun made you glow. As you approached the car, you glanced at him with a playful grin, your eyes lighting up when you saw the Mustang.

“You sure know how to make an entrance, huh?” you teased, your voice laced with amusement as you slid into the passenger seat.

Steve chuckled, feeling a slight rush of pride. “Figured I’d try to keep up with you,” he said, glancing at you as he started the engine. “Ready for this?”

You nodded, still smiling. “I’ve never been more ready. Just a heads-up, though—my parents might give you the look. You know, the ‘who is this American?’ look.” You winked, but there was an apprehension in your gaze that made Steve feel like maybe you weren’t entirely at ease either.

“Yeah, I’m used to ‘the look.’” He grinned, determined to be charming despite the tension in the air. After all, he wanted to make you feel at ease.

As the two of you drove toward the wedding venue, Steve kept the conversation light, asking about your studies, your thoughts on the wedding, and what your family was like. You talked about your work with passion, but he couldn’t help but notice the slight apprehension in your tone when you mentioned your parents.

When you arrived, Steve was introduced to your family, his hand shaking politely as he greeted your parents with a well-practiced smile. They weren’t unfriendly, but there was a certain coldness to their demeanor, like they were sizing him up, unsure of what to make of him. Steve, ever the gentleman, took it in stride, asking questions and trying his best to blend in. But as the evening wore on, it became clear that you were not quite as comfortable as you let on.

You were whisked away by your family to change into something more formal, leaving Steve to fend for himself in a crowd of unfamiliar faces. He quietly took a seat, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of you.

As the evening wore on, one of your relatives gently but firmly ushered Steve away from the crowd, leading him to a room at the back of the venue where an array of Barjan formal attire awaited him. The family had been insistent on ensuring he was properly dressed for the occasion, a tradition that Steve hadn’t anticipated.

“I guess I’ll have to dress the part,” Steve muttered to himself, his voice carrying a hint of amusement as the servant handed him a traditional Barjan tuxedo. It wasn’t quite what he’d expected, but he knew better than to argue—you had asked for him to be taken care of, and he wanted to honor that.

The outfit was stunning: a sharply tailored jacket with intricate gold embroidery at the collar and cuffs, paired with sleek trousers that tapered perfectly at the ankle. The fabric was a rich, deep shade of midnight blue that shimmered under the light, and the shirt underneath was a crisp white with a soft sheen. He looked at himself in the mirror, admiring the polished shoes and the way the suit fit him perfectly, as though he’d been born to wear it.

Once dressed, Steve rejoined the others in the main hall, where he was greeted by your family, all clad in their formal Barjan attire. The women wore elegant, flowing gowns with intricate beadwork and colorful patterns that reflected the island’s natural beauty. The men wore similarly rich outfits, with patterned vests and gold-accented details that gave them an air of authority and elegance. Steve felt like he’d been transported to another world, one full of tradition, culture, and beauty.

Then, finally, you entered, and Steve’s breath caught in his throat. You looked radiant. Your dress was everything he’d imagined and more: a delicate, embroidered gown with a soft blush hue, its flowing fabric catching the light with every step. The intricate patterns on your dress mirrored the ones in your family’s attire, as though you were all part of one elaborate, elegant tapestry. Your hair was let loose in its natural soft waves, and the sparkle in your eyes made you seem even more ethereal.

You smiled when you saw him, and Steve felt his chest tighten with something he couldn’t quite put into words. “You look… incredible,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your grin widened at the compliment, your eyes twinkling. “Thank you,” you replied, your tone light but warm. 

They shared a quiet moment, their connection palpable. The formal attire, the elegance of the night—it all felt surreal, yet right at the same time.

You shared a quiet moment, the connection between you palpable. The formal attire, the elegance of the night—it all felt surreal, yet right at the same time.

Steve couldn’t keep his eyes off you as the wedding celebration rolled on. You were radiant, your smile lighting up the room, but it wasn’t just your looks that had him captivated. It was the way you carried yourself, effortlessly blending into the crowd while still standing out. He wasn’t used to feeling this way—not amid all the military stuff he had been through, not after everything he’d seen. But with you, it was different.

As you stood by the drinks table, Steve couldn’t resist a smile. “You clean up pretty well,” he said, the words coming out more smoothly than he intended, but it was true. You looked stunning in that dress, your laughter echoing in his chest like a warm melody.

You looked over at him with teasing eyes. “For a guy who usually wears a uniform, you look pretty good in that suit yourself.”

“Well, I’m trying to keep up with you,” he replied, giving you a half-smirk. “You know, trying to make a good impression.”

You leaned closer, your voice dropping just slightly, playful but with that edge of seriousness Steve had come to recognize. “You don’t need to try so hard,” you said, your words almost sounding like a challenge. “You’ve already impressed me.”

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. He didn’t know what it was about you that got under his skin like this, but the way you made him feel was disorienting, like the ground wasn’t quite steady beneath him. It had been a long time since he’d felt this much—anything, really.

“So,” he said, trying to keep his composure, “what’s next? You’ve already got my attention, and I’m starting to think that’s the only thing I’m focused on tonight.”

Your lips curved into a smile, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, I guess maybe you should focus on me a little more,” you hinted, but there was something deeper in your voice, a subtle invitation that made Steve want to step closer. “After all, there’s still plenty of weddings left, Captain.”

Steve blinked at the title, his face softening into a grin. “I’m not used to being called that at a party,” he joked, though his mind was already on the edge, keeping himself from crossing the line. He wasn’t used to this kind of playful banter. In the military, things were direct, and to the point. But with you, it was different. You made him feel… lighter. He’d never thought he’d feel this way, especially not in the middle of something so unfamiliar, like a wedding halfway around the world.

He leaned in slightly, just enough to get your attention. “But I’ll insist, you’ve got me distracted, more than I thought possible.”

You laughed softly, as though you were enjoying the chase, but you stayed close enough that their words felt like a secret between the two of them. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” you replied, your voice carrying the slightest hint of playfulness. “Though, maybe I should keep you on your toes a little longer. Can’t make it too easy for you, Captain.”

Before Steve could respond, your parents arrived, their presence immediately cooling the warm atmosphere between them. The formalities kicked back in, and Steve felt a slight shift in your demeanor. You seemed to retreat into yourself a bit, your expression faltering. Steve’s protective instincts flared, but he knew better than to interrupt family matters.

You tried to give him a reassuring smile as you spoke, but it wasn’t enough. Your parents were speaking to you in hushed tones, their words sharp, but Steve managed to catch bits and pieces with his super-soldier hearing. “You’ll marry him soon. It’s already arranged,” your mother’s voice was firm, but there was an undeniable sense of finality in it.

Your expression darkened as you listened, your hands gripping the fabric of your dress as if trying to hold yourself together. Steve’s heart ached for you. He didn’t know what was entirely being said, but he could see the pain in you eyes. He wasn’t about to let this go unnoticed, not when it was clear you needed support.

Without a second thought, he moved toward you, gently pushing through the crowd to reach your side. As soon as you saw him, you turned away from your parents, your face clearly harboring a mix of frustration and sadness.

“[Y/N]?” Steve called out softly, his voice full of concern as he reached out to you.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you hurried toward the back of the venue, away from the eyes of your family, with Steve following close behind.

“Hey, hey,” he said, catching up with you and gently taking your arm. “What’s going on?”

You looked at him, your eyes wide with emotion. “They… they’ve already arranged my marriage, Steve,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “To someone I don’t even know.”

⠀⠀

The drive back to the beach was quiet. The low rumble of the engine was the only sound between you as Steve kept his eyes on the road, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. The Mustang purred beneath you, but it felt hollow in the silence that stretched out like the ocean you were heading toward. Steve was trying to give you space, but the tension between you was palpable. He knew you were struggling, knew that what had happened at the wedding had cracked something wide open. The weight of it all hung heavily in the air, thick and suffocating.

The soft hum of the ocean was the only sound that accompanied you as you walked along the shore. The sand beneath your feet was cool from the night air, and the sky was dotted with stars, but the world felt heavy around you. You stayed quiet, your steps slow, your mind racing with the events that had just unfolded. Steve kept a careful distance, giving you space, but his mind was working overtime—trying to make sense of everything that had happened.

You reached the spot where you had stood together the day before, where the horizon stretched out before you, untouched and endless. The contrast between that peaceful moment and this was sharp. He could still see the laughter in your eyes, the carefree joy you had shared—but now, your face was clouded with doubt and fear.

Steve paused for a moment, looking at you as you stared out into the dark expanse of the ocean. He wanted to fix this, to do something, anything, to take away the pain that had suddenly overwhelmed you, but he knew this was something only you could express. He was here to listen, to be present, and that was what mattered right now.

You broke the silence, your voice barely audible over the crashing waves. “I thought I had more time, Steve. I thought I had figured things out. I worked so hard for this freedom.” Your voice cracked as you looked at him, tears welling in your eyes. “I thought that if I could prove myself, if I could show them that I could make something of my life… they’d let me go. But now, they’ve taken everything. They hid my passport. They took my money. And now, I have nothing.”

The raw vulnerability in your voice hit him harder than he expected. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out instinctively, resting on your shoulder. You flinched at the touch but didn’t pull away. You needed comfort—he could feel it, even if you weren’t sure you wanted to accept it.

“[Y/N]…” he whispered, his voice full of empathy. He didn’t know what to say, not really. What could he say to make this better? But you kept going, your words tumbling out like a dam had broken.

“I came back thinking everything would be different,” you continued, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “I thought if I came back successful, I could change their minds. But they’ve already planned everything. They’ve arranged my marriage to someone I’ve never met… and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Steve’s heart sank as he heard the desperation in your voice. He wanted to scream, wanted to fight, to tell you that you didn’t deserve this, that you didn’t have to go through this alone. But instead, he just wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, offering you the one thing he could give—comfort.

“You’re not alone, sweetheart,” he said quietly, his voice soft but firm. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You pressed your face against his chest, your tears soaking through his shirt. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like… to be trapped like this, with no way out. I can’t even run anymore.”

Steve tightened his hold on you, feeling the weight of your pain in his bones. He had faced his fair share of burdens, of being trapped by duty, but this—this was different. You weren’t bound by a war or a mission. You were bound by a life you hadn’t chosen, a future your parents had decided for you.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said again, his voice hoarse. “We’ll figure this out. I don’t know how, but I’m not going to let them take you from your life.”

You pulled back slightly, your face streaked with tears, your breath ragged. Your eyes searched his, looking for any sign that he truly meant it. That he wasn’t just saying what he thought you wanted to hear.

“I don’t even know how to fight this anymore,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “They have everything… They control everything. And I just wanted to live my life. I just wanted a chance to choose.”

Steve cupped your face gently in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. “And you will. We’ll find a way. You’re not stuck. I promise you that.”

The tension between you was thick, raw, and emotional. It wasn’t just about the fight against your parents. It was about everything that had been left unsaid, everything that had been building between you. The air between you crackled with unspoken words, a connection that had been forged over the past couple of days but hadn’t fully been explored until now.

“I can’t let you go through this alone,” Steve said, his voice low and steady. “Not now. Not ever.”

You searched his eyes, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. There was a tension in the air—an unspoken connection that hung between you like a spark, waiting for someone to ignite it. Steve wasn’t sure who moved first, but before he could think twice, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both tender and urgent. The world seemed to fall away in that instant, leaving just the two of you in the quiet of the night, where nothing else mattered.

When you finally pulled apart, your breaths shallow, you looked at him, your eyes searching his face. “I never wanted to drag you into this, Steve,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m scared.”

Steve cupped your face gently, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. “You’re not dragging me into anything, [Y/N]. I want to be here. With you.” His voice was steady, but the emotion behind it was raw and real. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

You nodded, your lips trembling as you tried to hold back more tears. “But it’s too much. This wedding, this whole thing… it was supposed to be my escape, and now it feels like my worst nightmare.”

Steve leaned his forehead against yours, the cool air of the night brushing against you. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady the turmoil inside of him. “Look, maybe this doesn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “But you’ve got me, sweetheart. You don’t have to pretend like it doesn’t matter to me. It means something. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes softened at his words, and despite the storm of emotions, you found comfort in his touch, in the sincerity in his eyes. The tension between you was palpable, but in that moment, it wasn’t just about what you had, or the mess of your circumstances. It was about a promise—unspoken but understood—that you would face this together, no matter what it took.

“I can’t promise things will be easy,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But… maybe if you stay, if we try, we could figure this out. Together.”

Steve kissed your forehead softly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “We’ll figure it out,” he promised. “You’re not alone in this. Not anymore.”

And as you stood there, under the stars, in a moment that felt timeless, Steve knew one thing for sure—whatever came next, he wasn’t going to let you face it without him.

⠀⠀

The air in Steve’s hotel room hit you differently now—quieter, heavier. The events of the day loomed between you both: the wedding and the weight of your revelation. After the drive back to the beach, you couldn’t bring yourself to return home, unwilling to face the reality waiting for you there. Steve had insisted you stay with him for the night—he couldn’t bear the thought of you facing it all alone, especially not now. He didn’t have all the answers, but he knew he couldn’t just do nothing.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, Steve rubbed a hand over his face, the lines of his brow furrowed with thought. His mind raced, trying to conjure solutions, ways to help you. He wanted to be your knight in shining armor, but he knew this wasn’t something he could fix with a few comforting words. You were trapped—your passport, your freedom, your entire future—locked away by the very people meant to love and protect you.

“[Y/N], I…” He faltered, his voice low and uncertain. “I’ll figure something out.”

You sat curled up in the armchair by the window, your gaze fixed on the city lights outside, your expression distant and unreadable. For a long time, you didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. Your silence spoke volumes—he could see the pain etched across your face, the hopelessness lingering in your eyes. It wasn’t just exhaustion; it was the crushing realization that this wasn’t merely a fight for freedom. It was a battle for your entire life.

Steve’s eyes lit with sudden resolve, and he turned to face you, an idea solidifying in his mind. “What if I could help you get out of here?” he asked, his voice urgent but careful.

Your gaze shifted to him, and though curiosity flickered across your face, the sadness in your eyes didn’t waver. “What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his hair, searching for the words. “I can pull some strings. There are people—resources—that could help you. Maybe we can figure out a way to get your passport or get you somewhere safe. You don’t have to stay here. You don’t have to stay trapped.”

You shook your head, the weight of it all settling over you again. “They’ll come for me, Steve. My family…” You trailed off, biting your lip, your voice tinged with despair. “I don’t think I can escape them.”

Steve moved closer, his eyes locking onto yours with unwavering determination. “You’re not going through this alone,” he said firmly. “You have more options than you think.”

He hesitated for a moment, glancing at the table where a stack of papers sat, before another idea struck him. “The Mustang,” he said suddenly. “I rented it for this trip, but… I can buy it outright. Sell it after. Use the money to help you get started, to give you a chance until we figure out the rest.”

Your eyes widened as you sat up straighter, shaking your head in protest. “I can’t accept that, Steve. It’s too much. It’s your car. It’s… expensive.”

“It’s just a car,” he said, cutting you off before you could finish. His voice softened as his gaze bore into yours, filled with something raw and unguarded. “You mean so much more to me than a car, sweetheart.”

The words caught in the air between you, and his chest tightened at his own vulnerability. You stared back at him, your expression wavering between gratitude and heartbreak. “I don’t think I can go back to my family,” you whispered. “I don’t think I can survive that again.”

A fierce protectiveness surged through Steve as he stepped closer to you. His hand hovered just above your shoulder before finally resting there gently. “I won’t let them take you,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I swear.”

You lowered your gaze for a moment, overwhelmed, before meeting his eyes once more. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you said softly.

Without hesitation, Steve reached out, his hands cupping your face with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He tilted your head up, your eyes locking with his. And in that suspended moment, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss started soft, tentative—a quiet promise in the midst of the chaos surrounding you both. But as it deepened, it carried with it the weight of everything unsaid: the fear, the hope, the connection you had both been too scared to acknowledge until now.

When you finally pulled back, Steve reached into his pocket, his expression momentarily distant. His fingers brushed against the smooth surface of the simple ring he’d carried for years. It had once been meant for Peggy—a relic of a life that never came to be. He had held onto it as a reminder of the past, but now, as he looked at you, he realized something.

Maybe it was time to let go. To stop clinging to a ghost and make space for something new, something real.

You looked up at him, your lips trembling with the beginnings of a smile—a real one, the first he’d seen from you since the day began. “Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what’s coming next, but… I trust you.”

Steve nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips as he sat beside you on the bed. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding you close as the city lights shimmered in the distance. For a moment, the world outside didn’t matter. The only thing that did was the quiet understanding between you—an unspoken promise to face whatever came next together.

⠀⠀

The following morning, you awoke to the soft sound of ocean waves crashing against the shore. The room was dim, the early light creeping in through the windows. Steve lay beside you, turning his head to look at you still asleep, curled up next to him. Your breathing was steady, peaceful—a stark contrast to the chaos of the night before.

Today was his last day in Barbados.

You hadn’t solved everything, not yet, but you had taken the first step. You had found each other in a moment of vulnerability, and for once, the world outside felt a little less pressing. He smiled softly as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your skin.

As he watched you, his thoughts turned to Peggy—her memory, her spirit—but now it felt like a distant ache, not a tether keeping him bound to the past. Peggy had been a part of his journey, but he had learned it was okay to move on, to let go. The future, whatever it held, didn’t need to be defined by what was lost. It could be shaped by what was right in front of him—you, a new beginning, a chance to build something of your own.

You stirred and slowly opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. A soft smile appeared on your lips as you stretched, still half-asleep.

“Morning,” you whispered, your voice thick with the remnants of sleep.

“Morning,” he replied, his heart light despite everything you both still had to face. “How are you feeling?”

Your eyes searched his for a moment, as if weighing the sincerity in his words. You glanced down, lost in thought, before meeting his gaze again. “I’m… okay,” you said quietly. “It’s a long road ahead, Steve. But I don’t feel so lost anymore.”

He nodded, his hand gently caressing your arm. “We’ll take it one step at a time. I’ll help you with whatever comes next. We’ll figure it out together.”

Your eyes softened, and you gave a small nod. You weren’t fully healed, and there was still a long way to go, but there was hope now. And that was enough.

The sun had fully risen by the time you and Steve were ready to face the world again. After the heartfelt conversation the night before, it felt like progress had been made, but the morning light brought a sobering clarity.

Steve stood at the window of the hotel room, staring out at the endless horizon, the weight of his duty pressing down on him. He had known this moment would come. He had always known that being with you was fleeting—a brief escape from the responsibilities he could never quite shake off. There was a sense of urgency in his chest, a reminder of the mission waiting for him, the world that still needed saving.

You had showered and dressed in silence, your face still pale from the weight of everything you’d gone through. You moved quietly around the room, packing your things as if trying to avoid the inevitable. You hadn’t said it, but Steve could feel your resistance. The distance between you had already started to stretch.

He turned away from the window as you sat on the edge of the bed, looking small in the oversized hotel robe. You weren’t meeting his gaze, and he couldn’t blame you. You had put everything on the line to be with him, only to have to face the reality that a future together wasn’t possible—not now, at least.

“I’ve been thinking,” Steve began, his voice steady but tinged with regret. “I might be able to help you get out of here, help you get your life back. Maybe through SHIELD… I’ll make sure you’re safe, that you have a way out of this. I’ll talk to the director.”

You didn’t respond immediately. You just stared at your hands in your lap, your fingers trembling ever so slightly.

“I don’t want you to do this for me, Steve,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You have a life… your duty. You don’t have to fix this for me. I’ll find a way out, one way or another. I’ve been running from this for years. I can handle it.”

Steve clenched his jaw, fighting the frustration bubbling up. “You shouldn’t have to,” he said quietly, walking over to where you sat. He crouched in front of you, his hands resting gently on your knees. “You deserve better than this. You deserve more than a life of being pushed around by other people’s choices.”

Your eyes finally met his, and for a moment, you just looked at each other, the weight of the world between you. “I thought… I thought I could have a different life,” you said softly, your voice breaking as tears filled your eyes. “But I don’t know how to get away from this. I don’t know how to get out.”

Steve took a deep breath, his heart aching for you. The situation wasn’t fair, and he couldn’t give you the kind of life you deserved. Not right now.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wedding ring. It was strange how something so tied to the past had suddenly become a symbol of hope for the future. He had carried it for too long, unsure of whether he would ever move on, but now it felt right.

He placed the ring in your hand, his fingers lingering on yours for a moment. “I can’t stay, sweetheart. You know that,” he said softly. “But this… this is for you. It meant a lot to me for a while, and now I want you to have it so you remember that you’re not alone. You’re stronger than you know, and one day, you’ll find your way out of all this. I believe that.”

You held the ring in your hand, your fingers wrapping around it as if it were the last thing tethering you to a future you weren’t sure you could have. Your tears finally spilled over, and you let out a shaky breath.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” you asked, your voice breaking.

Steve nodded, standing up and giving you one last, lingering look. “I have to. There’s a world that still needs saving, and I can’t turn my back on it. But you’ll be okay. I know you will.”

You nodded slowly, wiping your eyes as you looked at him one last time. “I’ll find a way… to make things right. I will.”

The two of you stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of what you couldn’t have settling between you. Steve reached down and gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear.

“I’ll never forget you,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “And maybe one day… if the world isn’t too broken, we’ll find a way back to each other.”

You nodded, your heart torn, but you knew the truth of his words. You were both tied to duty, to the things that had shaped your lives. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t remember the good, the fleeting moments of peace you had shared. You would always have those.

“I’ll keep this,” you whispered, holding up the ring. “It’s all I’ll have left of us.”

⠀⠀

You spent your final hours with Steve, the air between you thick with the bittersweetness of time slipping away. Neither of you wanted to waste a single moment.

The day was filled with small, meaningful acts that made it feel as though time had slowed. A quiet breakfast by the beach, just the two of you, the waves gently crashing against the shore. You walked along the sand, hand in hand, the sound of the ocean almost drowning out the rest of the world. Together, you shared memories, laughter, and stories, pretending, if only for a while, that the weight of the world wasn’t pressing down on you.

But no matter how much you tried to savor each second, reality couldn’t be ignored. Time continued to slip through your fingers.

In the afternoon, the two of you returned to the same spot where you had spent your first evening. The sunset painted the sky in vibrant shades of pink, orange, and gold. Steve leaned against a large rock, his arm wrapped around you as you rested your head on his shoulder. Both of you watched the fading light in silence—a silence that was comfortable but heavy with unspoken words.

“I wish we had more time,” you murmured, breaking the stillness. Turning your face toward him, your eyes met his, reflecting the same sorrow you knew he felt.

“I wish I could give it to you,” he replied, his voice low and steady. He reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your skin as if memorizing the sensation, knowing it might be the last time. “But you’re strong. You’ll be okay. You’ve already come so far.”

You gave him a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “What about you, Steve? Will you be okay?”

He hesitated, his answer caught somewhere between honesty and reassurance. He couldn’t promise you he’d be okay, not with everything pulling him in so many directions. But he knew one thing for certain: this day, this moment, would stay with him forever. “I think I will,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You sat together in silence again, watching the sunset, neither of you ready to let the moment go.

As the evening deepened, you returned to the hotel together. Your movements were slower now, reluctant, each step bringing you closer to the inevitable parting. Steve could feel it too, the ache of what was to come. It hurt more than either of you had expected.

Before he left the room, you handed him something—a small, folded piece of paper. He opened it, revealing a drawing of a Mustang, your version of the car he had rented. At the bottom, you had written, “For when you’re far away.”

He looked at you, his chest tightening with emotion. The words he wanted to say caught in his throat. Instead, he stepped forward and pulled you into a tight embrace. His arms wrapped around you as if he could hold on forever. He kissed the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your hair, committing it to memory.

“You’ll always have me in your heart,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. You nodded against him, your tears threatening to fall as you held onto him, unwilling to let go.

“And you’ll always have me, Steve. No matter where you are.”

⠀⠀

Steve’s boots clicked against the cold floor of the Avengers compound as he entered, the familiar hum of the place only adds to the weight in his chest. He’d just come back from his brief time away, a time he wasn’t sure how to summarize. It had been a whirlwind, a mixture of emotions he hadn’t expected to feel so deeply. But this sudden vacation had successfully changed him.

As he stepped into the common room, he saw Tony lounging on the couch, his eyes glued to a screen. The moment Steve walked in, Tony looked up with a grin, clearly expecting the usual sarcastic quip.

“So, Cap, how was your vacation?” Tony asked, casually tossing a glance at him.

Steve set down his duffel bag and leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t quite know how to explain what he’d experienced, what he’d left behind. The memories of you lingered in his mind, and they felt like a weight he wasn’t sure how to carry.

“It was… well, it really helped me, Tony,” Steve said quietly, his voice steady, though there was an undercurrent of something deeper there, something he hadn’t figured out how to unpack yet. He glanced out the window for a moment, as though the ocean and the memories of the beach could somehow soothe him. “I didn’t realize how much I needed that time until it was over.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, always quick to read between the lines. But he didn’t push; instead, he took a sip from his glass and leaned back, knowing when not to ask further questions. “Good to hear, Cap. We all need a break now and then.”

Steve nodded, though he didn’t answer immediately. His thoughts drifted back to the last day he had spent with you—how the two of you had spent hours walking along the beach, hand in hand, knowing it was the end of something beautiful but fleeting. He remembered the warmth of the sun on his face, the way your smile had both broken his heart and healed it at the same time. What hit him hardest, though, was the way you had parted. There had been no easy goodbye, no promise that somehow, someway, you would find a way to be together. Just the certainty that life, as it always did, would pull you both in different directions.

He couldn’t shake the thought of that damn Mustang. The one he had rented for you, the symbol of the escape you had needed so badly. You had drawn it for him—your version of it, something small, something tender, that he would hold onto forever. The image of your face, so full of determination and quiet sorrow, was etched in his mind, a constant reminder.

And yet, he knew he had to leave. He couldn’t stay. Duty was calling, and no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t just throw everything away. You had your own future now, one you had fought so hard to build. And he had his—one that couldn’t afford distractions, no matter how deep the feelings had run.

Tony watched Steve, noticing the faraway look in his eyes. “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” he asked casually.

Steve blinked, shaking himself from his thoughts. He hadn’t expected Tony to guess it so quickly, but then again, Tony always had a way of cutting through the bullshit. He didn’t know how to explain what had happened with you, what it had meant to each other. And he didn’t want to, not yet.

“I am,” Steve admitted softly. “But it doesn’t matter. She’s going to be okay, Tony. I made sure of it.” His voice was low, steady with conviction, but there was something else there—a tinge of regret that he couldn’t quite shake.

Tony studied him for a moment. “That’s good, Cap. But you don’t have to keep it all together all the time, you know? It’s okay to feel like you don’t have all the answers.”

Steve chuckled softly, the humor in his voice tinged with melancholy. “I’m still figuring that out.”

Steve had made sure you left before him and was taken care of before his departure. He had called in every favor, using his influence and SHIELD’s resources to ensure you could leave your old life behind and start fresh. After everything that happened, you deserved a chance at freedom. The control your parents had over your life, the arranged marriage—they had weighed so heavily on your shoulders for so long. But now, with Steve’s help, you were free.

With your new identity, a fresh passport, and a financial cushion, you had the chance to build your future on your own terms. Steve knew you had the strength to make something of yourself, but it wouldn’t be easy. He’d made sure you had the right people backing you, a network of allies who could help you navigate your new life, far from the constraints of your family’s expectations.

You were enrolling in a prestigious university overseas, something you had always dreamed of but never had the opportunity to do before. The freedom you had fought for was finally within reach. Your family would never understand, but you didn’t care anymore. You weren’t the person they had tried to mold you into. You had become your own woman.

But leaving wasn’t simple. The scars of your past, your family’s rejection, and the haunting memories of the arranged marriage still lingered. You had to rebuild yourself from the ground up, and Steve had been there for you every step of the way, even from afar, even if you didn’t directly know it. He had given up a part of himself—his heart, his peace of mind—just to make sure you were safe and had a future. He had set things in motion to ensure you had a chance to be the person you wanted to be, even if it meant not being able to stay in your life.

He had watched you go, knowing that despite everything you shared, you could never be together. You were on your own now, and Steve had to let you go. His duty, his responsibilities, and the life he led as Captain America had always come first. But that didn’t stop him from caring for you, or from wondering what might have been, if only circumstances were different.

As the plane took off, you looked out the window, leaving behind the life that had almost consumed you. Steve’s name echoed in your heart, but you knew you couldn’t look back. You had to keep moving forward. You had your own life to live now, and you would make it count. For him.

You were heading down a different path now, one of independence, of freedom. He had made sure you had the support you needed, and as much as he wished things had turned out differently, he knew he had to let you go.

⠀⠀

Later, as Steve stood in the hallway, his hand on the door to his room, he took one last deep breath. He thought of you, of the way your eyes had sparkled in the fading light of the sun, of the way your smile had broken his heart. He thought of the fading tattoo, the Mustang, and the promise of freedom you now had, and the one thing he had given you—something simple but meaningful: a wedding ring.

It wasn’t his first choice. It wasn’t even his second. It was the one he should’ve given Peggy, the one he carried with him for years as a reminder of what could have been. But now, it had found its way to you—the woman who had made him feel something more than duty, more than responsibility. He couldn’t keep carrying it, couldn’t keep living in the shadow of his past. He had to let go.

The ring was a relic. It didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that, for once, he had lived in the moment.

For Steve, it was the kind of love that burned brightly—intense, fleeting, and beautiful. Like an American wedding, it brimmed with promise, a celebration of what could have been. But some things, no matter how luminous, weren’t meant to endure. And maybe that was okay. Because even in its brevity, it left something lasting—a healing fragment of you, etched into his once broken heart, immune to the passage of time.

And like an American divorce, it became a love story confined to memories—bittersweet and unfinished. You both knew it could never be more, but the echoes of it lingered, quietly shaping the man he would become.

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[ch6sos]

more nanami headcanons (but as your bf !!!)

a/n: hey everyone! thank you for all the support on my last headcanon post. i never really expected it to go far, but somehow it did. it was my first time ever posting a "fic" you know? i was cringing the entire time but it was worth it, for you guys :) since it did well, here is some more!

i used third person by the way so you're referred to as his partner. tried to make this as gender neutral as possible cuz i love you guys

cw: slight suggestiveness (ooooh... but it's not extreme you sillies)

Extreme gentleman. He respects their wishes all the time. If they want space, he will give it to them. He will give them whatever they ask for.

Pays on the first date. He forbids their significant other from doing anything. He will pay because he wants to. He truly wants to, not because he feels obligated to.

Would be kind of shy about doing anything at first, especially Teen!Nanami. Even after a long period of dating, he would always ask before showing affection because he does not know if they feel comfortable or okay with it.

"May I please hold your hand? Are you okay with that?

"...We've been dating for a month."

"I know, but, I must ask, you know? In case it makes you uncomfortable.”

When he (as well as they) grow comfortable, the affection begins to become more "intense." Not intense, but he does it more frequently. He holds their hand more, gives more kisses, more hugs...

He would give the best hugs. He is a cuddle machine. He appears to hate them, but does he truly? Exactly. No, he does not. He loves them so much. He wishes he could give up his job to spend the entire day cuddling with his partner.

"Stay close to me, please."

"I don't plan on moving."

"Good. I wish life were like this every day." He hums, squeezing them gently.

Kisses with him are never short; even if he is late. He never leaves his significant other hanging. He craves and desires to kiss them. He enjoys giving his partner a passionate kiss, drawing them near to his chest, and placing his hand behind their head, leaving a memory of the kiss that is warm, tender, and unforgettable.

Genuinely feels like he could share his emotions with his significant other. Yeah, he is still serious, because it's who he is. He was raised in a family surrounded by serious people. Though, throughout the relationship, he learns how to express his emotions better. He feels like he genuinely could reveal all the emotions he has stored in him already around his significant other. If he's feeling upset, he would genuinely express that to them. If something ticked him off, he would sit down and talk to his partner about it.

Despite all of that, he still is more of a listener than a rambler. He prefers putting others first before him, and that also goes for who gets to talk. He enjoys looking at their partner with a loving gaze, as they talk nonsense. Whether it is about the new show they picked up, their day, or the latest gossip, he loves listening.

He would write love letters. I do not care if you find that corny. He is corny. He will write love letters. Nanami is romantic. I don't care what anyone says he is a romance god who does not get to show it off as much. He loves writing lengthy letters, showing the love he has for his partner. Describes their personality and how much he cherishes them, how much he thinks they're beautiful, and how he thinks that they are the stars in the night sky that stand out.

Playing with his partner's hair is (one of) his favorite ways to show affection. If they have long hair, he loves to try styling it and ruffling it. If they have type 4 coily hair, he starts learning how to take care of it so he can try protective hairstyles on them.

Another thing is lazy Sundays. He loves Sundays. Even though he has to go to stupid work the next day. The sensation of them being in his arms when he wakes up, his arms encircling their bodies firmly, the sheets covering them. He enjoys gently leaning in to kiss their shoulders, the top of their head, and the back of their neck. When they began to stir, he pulled them closer— not wanting to get out of bed. All he wants is to spend Sunday morning in bed with his lovely partner.

Gets flushed at compliments, but it is not as obvious. When their significant other says he is handsome, he smiles softly and thanks them, but on the inside, he is freaking out.

Cooks breakfast in bed for them. Always. He loves getting up just to make his significant other the tastiest breakfast ever; it is his specialty. He prepares a warm beverage and some fruit-flavored crepes topped with Nutella and whipped cream.

Before meeting them, Nanami was kind of an insomniac. He would not sleep; hence why he has dark circles. But after meeting them, he started sleeping more. Despite everything, he continues to get up before his partner to prepare breakfast for them.

Not only that but when he was stressed, he would drink his sorrows away rather than confide in someone. Since the fan book claims that he enjoys drinking, I think that, unfortunately, one of his coping mechanisms is doing exactly that. However, since meeting them, he has kept everything under control. He learned to express himself more freely and genuinely strives to avoid suppressing his emotions.

Bro is a simp. His mouth drops when he sees his partner dressed. His jaw falls to the floor. He is stuttering a bit too. I know he is supposed to be calm and collected but he would NOT be calm and collected around his significant other, people. He would go feral and be a simp for them.

He says I love you first. It was quite unexpected and seemed to come out of nowhere. He just blurted it out without waiting for the perfect moment or anything else. It was probably a simple morning, cuddling with him on the bed as usual, looking at each other fondly, and he said, "You know how much I adore you, right?"

When he realizes what he is saying, his eyes widen slightly, but then crinkle up when they tell him they love him as well.

He will do whatever his partner says. They could be 5'2 or around his height; he is a certified simp who immediately attends to their partner's needs.

Even if that includes forcibly doing silly TikTok trends. He pretends to hate it but he doesn't. He is a munch or whatever Ice Spice said.

He enjoys nuzzling his partner. Guys, I do not care. This man is a bundle of love wrapped up in a stoic-looking man. He enjoys sneaking up behind them, entrapping them in his arms, and nuzzling their neck and the top of their head. Wherever he wants, whenever he wants. And he utters sweet nothings. And leaves tiny, delicate kisses. He also wraps his arms around their waist.

He sometimes becomes overwhelmed, so he requires his own space. However, he does not simply distance himself from his partner. He properly expresses that sometimes he needs his own space. He still adores them but also needs some space. He does not want to cause conflict or misunderstanding because he is not that type of person.

Will be there for them when they are sick, even if they believe they look disgusting. He does not care; he believes they are the most beautiful sight he has ever seen in his entire life (which was cut short) (sorry, I am still coping). He will be there to care for them whether they are throwing up, crying, or whatever.

He cooks for them, he gives them medicine, he cuddles them even though he knows he may get sick...

And he does. Every single time. And he acts like a baby too.

Adorable tall, strong man Nanami acts like a baby when he's sick. He needs to be looked after completely. He starts off coughing (like a grandfather or a father). So his cough is obnoxious and loud, and he frowns. He then looks up at his partner, his expression reminiscent of a puppy who has been denied treats. It is an adorable sight. It's a turnaround from his usual chill demeanor. He then spends the entire day in bed, despite his attempts to do his routine tasks like cleaning and cooking for them, which they forbid. And he pouts about it like a big baby.

"Please let me take care of you. You took care of me, so now it's my turn."

"No, you're sick, Kento."

"That doesn't matter." He frowns.

“You always take care of me anyway.”

“But it is my honor to take care of you, my love.”

and then they end up having seven mental breakdowns

If they bring home a stray one day, he is reluctant on taking it but you know damn well he'd be like one of those dads that is hesitant about taking it at first but then ends up cuddling it the next day and then begging for them to not take it to the shelter.

Genuine sweetheart. Holds the door for their significant other, makes arrangements for them when they can not find the time, prepares meals for them, and if they come from a different culture, he starts to learn about it, particularly if they are involved in it.

...This guy is in no way aggressive. I have seen people mischaracterize him as a dominant "daddy" or whatever because he is serious, and Mappa blessed us with the hair-pulling scene. That scene was primarily caused by rage at Haruta's thoughtless harm to those around him and the fact that the man was going against two young girls. He would never act in such a way toward their partner, particularly when they were in bed. He is more of a gentle lover and is afraid of going too far.

Needs are needs, so if they ask, he will comply with some hesitation. He never seemed to get into it, so he tells them that.

That does not mean he is not into some stuff. Bro be praising. He praises hella and talks them through it.

"My love, doing so well for me."

"So beautiful, so gorgeous, all sprawled out for me like this."

“You’re mine. Until the end of time, angel.”

“God. My love, my everything. You drive me wild, you know that?”

“Eyes on me, sweetheart. Want to see how breathtaking you are from here.” All in his deep, ragged and needy voice.

that made me cringe

help I'm crying at the cringe so sorry

His favorite dates with them involve going to a restaurant. Nanami knows some hidden gems, so he enjoys taking them to restaurants where they can eat delicious food. Being a food enthusiast, it goes without saying that he is aware of the good and bad places to go. Because of Nanami's exquisite taste, they have never had to worry about their food.

As I previously stated, he prefers traditional nicknames such as sweetheart, my love, darling, angel, and beloved. I do not see him calling his significant other "baby," "baby girl," or whatever; I believe he finds it cringe-worthy. This is self-indulgent oops.

Sings softly to them while they are sleeping. He sings a song while they are sleeping because he is too ashamed of his singing. His vocals are not bad; he is just shy. (Little did he know, they had several recordings of him singing in secret...)

He will sacrifice his blanket in bed just to wrap it around his partner if they're cold. Bro would give them 90004868787893 pillows, and 8 blankets if they said they were cold.

He exaggerates things. And when I say he exaggerates, I mean he goes to great lengths to win his partner over. If they enter a new niche, he buys *everything*. On date nights, he gives them large bouquets if they like that, and he treats them as if they were royalty.

"You didn't need to get me this entire figure collection from *series*... I feel so bad."

"Well, do not worry, I enjoy buying these things for you. I see how happy you are, and it immediately warms my heart.”

Arguments with him are not bad. He truly never gets upset to the point of yelling because that is not who he is—he is not a guy who yells and he does not want to cause trauma to people in general. Again, though, he seems composed, and it might be frightening. But he then does something right away that causes his partner to instantly give in. Bro could just breathe and they're like "OKAY" and yeah. I understand. I would fold so hard bro.

His love languages include quality time and acts of service. He loves spending every single second with his partner and is immediately angry at the world when he has to work overtime and can not have more time with them. He enjoys taking them on dates or simply staying at home on lazy days. He loves spending time with them. Furthermore, he expresses his love by doing things for his partner, such as assisting them with their work (if he could), giving them massages when they are stressed, cooking for them all the time, washing their dishes even when they beg him not to, eating the olives off of their plate if there are any... He is the king of acts of service.

He is not good at taking pictures. His large thumb keeps covering the lens, so they have to force him to take the pictures repeatedly. Despite this, he never becomes irritated because he gets butterflies just watching his partner pose in their gorgeous clothes.

Speaking of photos, he already had an Instagram account beforehand. (As much as he hates to admit it, Gojo is sometimes the one who takes the aesthetic photos on his page.) He was not active, but he has a few posts on it, but as soon as they got a partner, oh lord Jesus. Bro will post on his Instagram story every single second.

Even though this happens, he prefers to make his relationship private. Private but known, you know? He wants the world to know that he is lucky enough to date them, but still not reveal information or talk about his relationship to anyone. So he would take those private but not secret type relationship photos.

Captions are always complimenting them and are extremely poetic. He's just that guy.

"saw a breathtaking sight. the beach is also there."

“every aspect of you captivates me, body and soul.”

"we are all floating around with the stars and the universe, and it somehow led me to you."

cringes again

Off-topic but not, Nanami would NEVER, and I mean... NEVER, go for his student if he was a professor, even if their relationship is legal. I can't stand it when people do that. He understands that there's a power dynamic behind it and it's low-key creepy how much people enjoy it.

Along with stepcest. Why do so many of you like stepcest? Nanami is not touching any of his family members. I'm scared to say this and this is probably hella controversial for this app but he's not touching anyone even if they're not technically related.

Age gap too. He would not date someone extremely younger than him. He is not going to be 40 and dating a 19-year-old. I just can't see it.

Other than that, he does not have any preferences when it comes to appearance. He has turn-offs, but not in terms of appearance. He could care less about what someone looks like.

In terms of personality, he dislikes negative people. He despises that. He would feel guilty if he became involved with someone unconcerned about the world. He also dislikes immaturity and pettiness.

He prefers people who bring positivity into his life, you know? Someone much more outgoing than he is, but still a mature person with whom he could relate. The more extroverted they are the more they bring out of him. As long as they're not so overwhelming to him.

Even so, he simply enjoys people for their kindness and consideration. How willing they are, how passionate and motivated they are. He simply wants someone who is driven by their goals.

Texts them dad memes he found on Facebook.

“Look at it, it’s funny.”

“...lol”

“You laughed at least a little bit right?

“...No?”

“Okay. I apologize :(“

LAUGH AT HIS FACEBOOK MEMES PLEASE. THEY ARE NOT THAT BAD PLEASE.

When he met their family, he appeared calm and collected, but he was nervous. He was fidgety on the way to their house, something he had only ever done in high school. He experiences anxiety about whether he would be accepted by them or whether he would be good enough.

“Wow, I have never seen you this fidgety before.”

"I apologize. It’s just… What your family might think worries me. I am not sure if I will meet their expectations. I simply want to let them know how much I genuinely adore you for who you are and how much I want to be yours forever."

And they are like ??? because this man is perfect? He is the dream man anyone could ever ask for.

Do not take this man mini golfing bro he sucks ass… I know you guys think just because he is partly white he will immediately be good at golf but no. He sucks ass.

He would be protective, but not excessively so. He is devoted to his partner and will intervene quickly if someone upsets them, intimidating them with his composed demeanor.

"I advise you to distance yourself from them before I regretfully have to take action, okay? We wouldn’t want that, right?” Dumbledore says, calmly. While puffing out his chest. And mewing. And mogging. Whatever that means.

Okay fine, he will watch Jersey Shore, The Real Housewives, Love & Hip-Hop, etc with them. Pretends to hate it but he is invested.

Imagine just going to the bedroom and just seeing him in his reading glasses, sitting up against the headboard, immersed in the book in front of him. The only thing he has on is a simple white tee that does justice to his figure and pajama pants.

Yup feral.

Tries to get into the things their partner likes just so he can understand when they yap about certain things. He just wants them to talk about everything to him. He finds it adorable.

Allows their partner to give him a skincare treatment. He then begins to do it himself. Well, he would only use one product—a cleanser. That being said, he started using toner, serum, and other skincare products. And, yes, he allows them to put ridiculously cute facemasks on his face. And the cute little star pimple patches.

Do not take that man ice skating or rollerblading either. He would be so hesitant on going because he sucks at it. He just goes because his significant other told him to. He fell immediately.

“This sucks.”

“Stop sulking and hold my hand.”

“...You don’t even need to ask.” He says, all giddy.

Please show him the love and care he deserves.

When he works out he will flex on them on purpose. He thinks it is all funny to be all yummy. It is NOT funny.

Yup, he does push-ups while they’re underneath, each time he goes down he gives them a peck.

Yeah so imagine that with him in his compression shirt and shorts…

I could read your mind, people. You are not slick.

This man will not let his significant other have insecurities. He is the type to leave notes all over the bathroom, and every mirror, with encouraging words. Praising their looks and more. Plus he shows in…other ways (wink) how much he appreciates how beautiful he thinks they are.

If they are unhappy, he will truly be devastated. He is miserable when he sees them upset, so he does everything in his power to cheer them up. Whether that’s cooking something for them, taking care of them, trying to make them laugh, getting them something from the store, or sitting down and talking to them about their problems, he needs to make them feel happy.

When he drives, he would not put his hand on his partner’s thigh. He would much rather grab their hand, and put it on his lap, as he listens to them hum along to the radio. He purposely moves the mirror slightly toward them, just so he can see how pretty they are through the mirror. He also looks at them with a slight smile at every stop-light, occasionally leaving small pecks on their face.

Does not mind if they steal his clothes. Go on then silly. He could care less. He thinks it’s cute as hell.

Would teach them how to do things. For example, he will teach them to play an instrument if they do not already, especially if he knows how. He looks like a lovesick fool as he watches them replicate what he did. Unable to resist the urge, he kisses them without reason.

“What was that for?”

"I could not hold back. You are very tempting."

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yes. You are everything I think about and want."

Butterflies all around people.

His only red flag is that sometimes he may prioritize work over his relationship. He unfortunately gets into the stress of work and begins to grind more at work. Call him out and he gets back into his senses.

Buys more storage space for his Samsung S24 Ultra to retrieve more pictures of them. His camera roll is nearly full. Just because of his significant other, his camera roll increased from roughly 150 images to over 13,000 images.

When he comes home from work, he immediately collapses on the couch or their shared bed, on top of them. He then looks like a sleepy puppy.

“Someone’s tired.”

“I hate overtime.”

“I know you do. I cooked something for you.”

“I could have just cooked for the both of us…”

“But I knew you’d come all tired from work. So no.”

“That doesn't matter, you know? I love taking care of you. Just to see that pretty smile on your face.” He pouts, once again.

He ends up making it up to them. You can interpret that however you want.

As soon as this man sees them in formal attire (or in general) it is OVER. His jaw is on the bottom of the earth, his eyes are slightly widened, a blush on his face.

“I have no words. God, I don't know how someone could get even more impossibly perfect, yet here you are, darling. No matter how many times I see you, you still manage to take my breath away.”

yup heart attack

Prepare for so many compliments daily. He talks like a true romance book. None of that Colleen Hoover stuff.

Talks about his partner like a true gentleman. He's not like those types of guys who just talk about their significant other as if they're his property. No. He talks about them as if they are an art piece.

Overall, he just loves his partner so, so much. He expresses it in a variety of ways, from taking care of them—to telling them every single second of the day. In his own words,

"Your presence in my life is like a breath of fresh air, keeping my heart full and content. I love you more than anyone could ever fathom, and I promise you, you have my heart for eternity."

i love him </3 NANMINPLEAEE BE RELALRHABADHDJSKDHSNEB

[plumipal]

Omg who is she?

She’s so pretty.

She has twice the wings Eden has. Idk what that means but it probably means something.

Also her name being Lilith… guys I’m sensing pattern here. Are you keeping another one named Adam locked in the basement?

Is she maybe his sister? I mean you can’t just drop a new bit of lore and run away. Explain yourself. Please? Pretty please with a cherry and cream on top? It would be much appreciated and desperately looked forward to.

Little side note who hurt my boy Eden in the second picture? Was it Lilith? If so her likability just dropped of dramatically.

Chat, meet Edens... Sister.

HER NAME IS LILITH!!!

So to even start this off, they are NOT human (I know, shocker). They're children of the stars, serving to protect and help the stars shine as bright as they do. Becasue of defects on both of them (the extra parts near their star core, making them unstable), they were cast out of the colony, cursed to wander the endless galaxies.

I know no one has wondered why Eden has a huge scar on his back or why he even got into the twst universe in the beginning, BUT LET ME TELL YOU ALL! It's her fault.

After a childish spat where it ended with Eden reaching for his weapon to strike her, she instead grabbed for hers and beat the ever living shir our of him, sending him flying to hopefully kill him. This resulted in him reaching the atmosphere of the twst world, crashing down (like a fallen star) into ramshackle around a week before the prefect arrived.

He was passed out for a week, motionless untill y/n, grim and crowley discover him in a vacant room in ramshackle, waking him up and tending to his wound.

So yeah this blond little bitch is the reason we have Eden in the twstverse mmm...

A look at the weapons, they both serve to be protection incase the star they serve gets attacked. The little vacant spot on the spear is for the core to be put in, aka their little star in their chest, the source of their power.

They can take it out, the spear acting as a magicpen sorta to help with their "magic" and being able to direction it. Don't take the core too far away from them tho, it serves as someone cutting off oxygen or blood flow ro us, easy kill on them.

Lilith has a few more wings on hers than a normal one does, just like her defect. This was becasue of a power imbalance, leading to her absorbing way too much power compared to the others during her creation, leading to her being very dangerous (basically a ticking timebomb).

Also a look again on Edens scar that Lilith caused. She foes not feel sorry for that, nor does she feel sorry for burning half of edens face off (first panel whre he is badly damaged, don't worry he will regenerate quickly).

You may also notice her wings being lighter, and that is becasue of their "purity" of other magical influences. Edens darkened quickly during his first week in twst, the blot around him forcing its way into the pigment. This also depends on how easily they adapt with other living beings, with Eden easily being able to copy and show humane emotions.

The love and devotion he feels for you is something he felt similar to his creator while he served the star, that love however turning more dark and twisted because of him copying the environment around him (aka the other twst men into you lol). He is also very heavily inspired by a raven, whish is why he has this "copying easily" ability.

Meanwhile Lilith is meant to resemble more of a dove, elegant and beautiful. Will she be romanceable? We will see...

One thing to make clear,

EDEN FUCKING HATES HER GUTS!! DO NOT PUT THEM IN THE SAME ROOM ONE OF THEM WILL DIE-

Thank you for coming to my Eden Ted talk I will be here all week.