#not because ive forgotten what happened but because I want MORE NOW

[hellenhighwater]

welp. I've got a four-day weekend so it's time to reread The Grand Unified Theory of Shen Qingqiu from the beginning

[plasticsandwich]

its almost been 1 year since i started drawing again........

[evansbby]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

part iv - just like animals

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, major angst, extremely dark themes, a/b/o dynamic, daddy!kink, dubcon, dumbification, bullying, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, size kink, housewife kink, semi-public sex, pussyjob, oral (f receiving),  extreme depictions of bullying and depression, 18+ only, minors do not interact!  

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You begin to lose hope, and Steve begins to lose his mind.

Series Masterlist 

𝐀/𝐍: Another warning that the angsty content and certain themes in this chapter may be difficult to read. Warnings are there for a reason. Apart from that, thank you so much for being so patient. It took me more than 4 months to write this and it’s 22.2k words long. Enjoy.

Pregnant.

You stare so hard your vision blurs, until the two lines on the test are swimming around comically, almost as if they’re laughing at you. And then you’re blinking rapidly, because your eyes must be playing some kind of cruel trick, right? This can’t be real, this can’t be real, this can’t be real.

You’re pregnant. With Steve’s baby.

It’s with an almost detached silence that you get up and wrap all three tests in a big wad of toilet paper. Like you’re floating through the air, you stuff them under your shirt and make your way out of the room. With Steve still asleep, you venture downstairs and out the front door, the chilly morning air having no effect on you.

You bury the tests at the bottom of the garbage bin, like how you’re currently trying to bury all the emotions threatening to spill out of you. A baby. Inside you. Right at this moment. Steve’s baby. Your hand twitches, reaching up to touch your stomach before you stop yourself. What were you going to do now?

Steve reaches for you when you return to the bedroom, he looks half-asleep as he pulls you back into bed. You wonder whether here, cocooned in cosy warmth, you can just scrunch your eyes up real tight and pretend none of this is happening right now…

“Where did you go?”

“Steve, I… I’m…” Your throat constricts, and panic rises within you like bile as you try to regulate your breathing. “I just went downstairs to drink water.”

Steve hums, drawing you closer and burying his face in your neck while you lie completely still. As if any movement would somehow expose the fact that you’re pregnant. He peppers soft kisses onto your skin, tugging your shirt down to expose more of your neck.

“I’m gonna take you out for dinner tonight.” He says softly, and it’s the last thing you were expecting to hear from him right now. His lips drag up to kiss the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw, his hands stroking up and down your body as he holds you close. “You have an exam this morning, don’t you?”

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry at the fact that you’d forgotten you have an exam today.

“Y-Yeah.”

“Mm, so I’ll take you out after. Anywhere you want to go. We can even go shopping before that, I’ll buy you whatever you want.” Steve’s arms encircle around your waist, pulling you up as he rolls onto his back, so that you’re lying on his chest. He blinks up at you, blue eyes suddenly serious, “I want you to forget about everything that happened last night, omega.”

And just like that, it all comes rushing back to you. Like a hurtling freight train that had been momentarily kept at bay because you’d just found out you were pregnant. But now the memories come back at lightning speed. Bucky. Steve Junior. The fight. How Steve hadn’t defended you. How he’d left.

How he’d cheated on you.

How you’d begged him not to leave you.

“Forget all of it.” Steve repeats, cupping your face with both his hands. “None of that’s important anymore, as long as you’ll be good from now on.”

And just like that, he wants you to forget. Move on in a blink of an eye. Forget his cheating, his casual cruelty, how he’d laughed when you’d cried. How he’d told you every detail of his encounter with that other omega, how it had felt like you’d been punched in the gut repeatedly.

How could he expect you to forget? By pretending it never happened and distracting you with shopping trips, gifts and dinners? Was that his way of compensating? Didn’t he feel even a tiny bit of remorse? Could he even acknowledge how much he’d hurt you?

There’s a part of you, underneath all the newfound shock of being pregnant, that wants to confront him about all of it.

Instead, you nod mechanically. “Okay, Steve.”

“Good girl.” He kisses you a few more times before sitting up and setting you down next to him. “Pick a restaurant and text me, I’ll make the reservation.”

With baited breath, you watch him as he gets up, moving around the room to get ready for the day. You know that he’s got his morning run, then a gym session and then two exams back-to-back– which means you won’t see him until a lot later. Maybe it would give you enough time to gather your thoughts and make sense of your situation before you tell him.

***

Your own exam goes by in a blur. It doesn’t help that all you can think about is the fact that there’s literal life growing inside of you, but you somehow soldier through. With nerves mounting, you walk from the university building back to Steve’s house almost in a daze. Worries, questions, concerns, and fears swim around in your head like a school of frenzied fish. What are you going to do?

Acting on desperate impulse alone, you whip your phone out. Shaky fingers scroll desperately, searching for one blocked contact in particular. Almost in a frenzy, you tap on his name, unblocking him and calling him before you can change your mind.

“H-Hello? Peter?”

It takes a few moments for him to register that it’s you, and then:

“Oh my God. Are you okay?!”

The familiarity of Peter’s voice makes you want to cry, the sound bringing back fleeting memories of sitting on his sofa with a bowl of popcorn and a movie, complaining to him about all the alphas in your lectures. Playing computer games on his laptop and laughing when you beat him. Catching the bus to his house after days of not speaking to anyone at university, and the relief you’d feel when he’d open the door…

“I’m… I…Peter, I…”

You’re suddenly awash with shame. The last time you’d seen Peter, his face was spurting blood after being punched several times by Steve. And you hadn’t even bothered to call or text him after that, hadn’t bothered to see if he was okay. Granted, that was also the night Steve had mated you – oh, how could you ever explain all of this mess to Peter?

“Are you okay?” Peter repeats. “I tried to call so many times but you blocked me.” A pause, and then he adds: “Don’t worry, I realised that was probably Steve’s doing.”

You swallow harshly, “I should’ve called you. It’s just… He… He…” But you couldn’t blame it all on Steve, could you? In the past month and a half, it’s not like you’d gone out of your way to contact Peter. No, after Steve had mated you, it was like he’d consumed you, eaten you alive. Wrapped you up in this little bubble where it was just you and him and no one else mattered. A bubble you clearly had been in no hurry to escape from until it had popped unceremoniously all over your face.

“Is he treating you okay?” Peter’s question sounds tentative, as if he doesn’t quite believe his own words.

“No, Peter, I–” A strangled sob escapes your throat from out of nowhere, and you can feel the flimsy threads holding you together as they begin to come apart. “Everything’s a mess, a big fat mess and I don’t know what I’m going to do!”

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

Why had you called him? How could you even begin to tell him everything you’d been through in the past twenty-four hours? Would Peter ultimately even care to listen to you complain about the man you’d cheated on him with? The man who you’d been living with for the past month, acting like his good little omega while pretending Peter no longer existed?

“It’s all a big mess.” You moan pathetically, hating yourself for how you sound. Here you were, hurt by one man and immediately trying to hurtle yourself into the arms of another. Stupid. Pathetic. Dumb. Careless. You’d gotten yourself into this mess. Just like Steve said – all your fault.

Your hand finds its way to your stomach, stroking it softly through the material of your dress. For a split second, you close your eyes and try and picture it. You, with a baby in your arms. Your very own baby – it looks exactly like you. And Steve coming home, smiling happily as he kisses you and takes your child, swinging it around while it giggles.

But like ink spilling on paper, the image darkens. Now it’s you alone with your baby. Cold, dark, dreary. Steve’s gone. He left you. Left you and left your baby. For that other omega. Left you just like how your dad left too. And it’s all your fault, all your fault, all your fault! Steve’s voice chanting in your head while your baby cries: all your fault, all your fault, all your fault!

“Hello? Are you still there?” Peter’s voice drags you out of your mind. “Look, just tell me what happened. I can help you. I know I wasn’t much help last time but I can help you now. We can figure something out, just tell me where you are, and–”

“I’m sorry,” You interrupt him, swallowing harshly. What had you hoped to achieve by calling your ex-boyfriend and telling him that your current boyfriend got you pregnant? No, you couldn’t do that to Peter. “Look, I don’t know why I called, I can’t drag you into my mess.”

“You haven’t even told me what the mess is–”

“I’m sorry, Peter.” You choke out before quickly hanging up. Methodically, you delete the call history and block his number once more. And then, it’s with almost mechanical grace that you wipe away your tears and clear your throat.

This is your mess. You have to handle it by yourself.

Still reeling from the impulsive phone-call and it’s abrupt ending, you walk the rest of the way back to Steve’s house in a daze of different emotions, wanting nothing more than to just escape your mind which seems to be working in overdrive. Reaching the front door, you’re about to twist the doorknob when you hear a click and the door swings open from the inside.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Little Miss Omega.” Words dripping with smug delight as if he’s caught you with your hand in the cookie jar, Bucky leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest and a wolfish grin on his face, “Was that you I just saw on the phone?”

You duck your head, hoping to just ignore the alpha, nudge past him and run up to yours’ and Steve’s bedroom. But Bucky easily blocks your path, leaving you standing outside on the porch and looking up at him in dismay. Again, you try to push past him but he’s too big, too strong, barely budging.

“I asked you a question. Who were you on the phone with? I bet Stevie doesn’t know, does he?”

Bucky intimidates you, with his light blue eyes and cold gaze. The way he’s always staring. And you don’t think you’ll ever forgive him for what he did to poor Steve Junior. Hands curling into fists by your sides, you can’t help but look to the ground, “I was talking to a friend about a textbook I’m looking for.”

“Nice try, sweetheart. Everyone knows you don’t have any friends.”

“Just let me in!” You try and be assertive, but shoving past him does you no good – just like Steve, he’s practically built like a brick wall.

“Let’s put it to a vote, shall we?” Bucky turns his head slightly, “Hey, Sam. Should I let little omega into the house?”

Over Bucky’s shoulder, you see Sam on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table and a joint between his fingers, a slightly glazed look over his eyes. “I don’t give a fuck, man.”

“I’ll take that as a no. Sorry, sweetheart. I guess Steve should’ve trusted you with keys.” And you can’t believe it when the door slams in your face. You stand there in shock for a few seconds, wrapping your head around exactly what’s just happened. Overhead, the clouds grow darker and you hear a boom of thunder that has your chest tightening.

Hurriedly, you knock on the door once more, trying to persuade yourself that they’re just doing what they always do – acting like alpha jerks and joking around. Of course, they’ll let you in soon – they’d have to be heartless not to.

“Please let me in!” You call out, knocks becoming more incessant as panic begins to bubble inside of you – you’re not too fond of thunder, “Bucky, Sam, please! I think it’s gonna start raining!”

A rush of cold air has you shivering down to the bone, goosebumps rising up and down your limbs. It had been warm in the morning, so you’d worn only a light sundress – absolutely not ideal for the rainstorm that’s clearly about to hit.

“Guys, please!” You cry out again, and it comes out as a whimper. Bucky’s been awful as of late, but maybe Sam would grow irritated by your cries and come to open the door? That’s all you can hope for as you continue to slam your fists against the door harder and harder.

Suddenly, the door opens and you sag with relief until you see it’s Bucky again.

“L-Let me in. Please.” You hate that you have to beg him like this, after everything he’s said and done to you in the past. How he tore Steve Junior, how he called you a bitch in heat. Oh, how badly you wish Steve was here. But then, would Steve have even done anything at all?

Bucky tilts his head as if he’s pretending to think, “How about we strike up a bargain, sweetheart? You give me a kiss, and I’ll let you in.”

It’s as if someone’s dunked poison into your veins. Ugly, green poison that gives you a bad feeling and a bad taste all at once. You take a step back almost cautiously, “N-No.”

“You sure, omega?” Bucky licks his lips, pushing his brown hair out of his face as his gaze drinks you in hungrily. “It’s awfully cold out there, and nice and warm in here. All it’s gonna cost you is one kiss. And don’t worry, I won’t tell Steve.”

You jut your chin out, “No. I’m not going to kiss you. You’re Steve’s best friend, you shouldn’t be acting like this anyway.”

It’s like it’s all a game to him, because Bucky just smiles wickedly, reaching out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. Revulsion overtakes your body, and you take another step back, blanching before giving him a pleading look.

“Acting like what? I told you, I won’t tell Steve.” He tries to grab you, but you’re quick to dodge him, “Come on, omega. It’s not like Steve’s gonna care anyways. I was there when he cheated on you. I didn’t understand it, if I had a hot piece of ass like you in my bed– I’d never do what he did.”

You bite your lip. The pain is still so fresh, the memory of Steve so nonchalantly telling you how he’d cheated on you, how he didn’t have a mark on his neck that tethered him to you. You’re crestfallen, but there’s a certain fury that awakens inside you too, because you hate how Bucky’s talking about it, you hate how he knows, you hate how he’s using it to his advantage.

“JUST SHUT UP!”

You’ve never yelled at an alpha like this before, your voice sounding over a clap of thunder that hits at that exact moment, “Shut up, okay? My relationship with Steve is none of your business. So just please, please leave me alone and let me in.” And once again you try to barge your way past him, pushing against his arm with all your strength but getting absolutely nowhere with it.

“Listen, you little bitch. Don’t fucking raise your voice at me.” Bucky is quick to grab your arm, twisting it roughly behind your back and making you cry out in pain. “And stop trying to act all high and mighty, like you’re above kissing me. You’re just a pathetic little scholarship slut omega, remember that.”

“Please! It hurts!”

“It hurts!” He mimics, face inches from yours as he sneers down at you, “When are you gonna realise that no one cares when you hurt? Least of all Steve.” His lips are so close to yours, and you can feel his breath on your face as he speaks, “So, what do you say about that kiss, hm, sweetheart? He cheated on you, now’s your chance to do the same. An eye for an eye.”

“No! I’m not going to kiss you, okay? I don’t want to!” You cry out, trying with all your might to wiggle out of his grasp until he cruelly pushes you away and you stumble down the front steps of the house.

“Fine. Suit yourself, omega slut.”

And the door slams shut again, followed by the unmistakable click of the lock. And this time, you know Bucky isn’t coming back to open it. Another clap of thunder, a ripple of lightning and now heavy rain is falling down in earnest. For a few seconds, you just watch in disbelief as the icy cold water soaks through your clothes.

Then you run up against the window, pounding on it, hoping that maybe Sam will let you in. But Sam looks like he’s passed out on the couch and dead to the world around him. And Bucky just sits there, cigarette in mouth and phone in hand, pretending as if he hasn’t just heartlessly locked you outside in the heavy rainfall.

And the rain is unforgiving, so cold as it pelts downwards. Fat droplets of icy water beating down on your head – it’s already soaked through your dress and everything from your hair to your phone is dripping wet.

Once more, you slam your fists on the door, yelling out both their names, begging and pleading to be let in. You shake and rattle the doorknob, you pound at the glass of the window, at one point you even hurl your whole body into the door to maybe break it open – but to no avail.

“Please! It’s c-cold out here!” Your voice comes out hoarse from all the pleading you’ve been doing, and you can’t tell whether it’s rainwater or tears smeared all over your face, “Please let me in! I d-don’t know what I did to you but please, just let me in!”

It’s in the middle of your hundredth ‘please’ that you finally stop, clamping your shivering mouth shut because what’s the point? All this begging, all this pleading, just in the hopes that the two worst people you know might feel sorry for you? When they never have in the past? When they’ve been awful to you every chance they got, despite the fact that you’ve been nothing but polite to them?

No. Bucky and Sam don’t deserve your begging.

You find yourself sinking down on the steps. You contemplate calling Steve, but one glance at the black screen of your phone and you know it’s either dead or the rainwater got to it.

The library was closed for maintenance, and walking to the nearest campus building would be impossible in this rain. Even your old dorm is out of the question, because Steve has the keys to it. And slowly, as the cold numbness begins to spread across your fingertips and up your arms, you feel a sudden numbness in your mind too.

This despairing feeling of no hope, cruelly snatching away any need to survive. You feel your body switch off, the feeling of deadly indifference overtaking you. You bury your head between your legs, wrapping your arms around yourself to preserve any body-heat.

Steve should be home by now... But he isn’t, he isn’t, he isn’t! The voice inside you mocks. He’s probably with that other omega…Cosy in her dorm room, probably kissing her…

You don’t know how long you sit there in the pounding rain, feeling it beat unforgivingly down your head and back. A part of you wants to drown in the rainwater, or let it wash you away and take you somewhere far. Somewhere where it isn’t so wet and so cold, where everyone isn’t so horrible.

The car headlights don’t really register in your head, and neither does the rough hand that grabs your arm a few moments later, shaking you and calling out your name repeatedly. You just keep your head in your lap, hoping and praying that the cold goes away.

“Can you hear me? What the fuck are you doing out here?” Steve demands, grabbing both your shoulders now and shaking them heftily, making you look up slowly and blink. Your vision is completely blurred, and again it’s either from the rain or your tears – you don’t know. But you see Steve’s halo of blonde hair glimmering in the rain, and the furrow of his brow.

You open your mouth but nothing comes out as Steve yanks you up to your feet, pulling you towards the door.

“Did you hear what I just asked you? What are you doing out here in the rain? Are you insane?” He has to raise his voice to be heard above the deathly patter.

“W-Wouldn’t let me in.” You mumble faintly as Steve fishes for his keys, pulling them out of his pocket and unlocking the door in record time, pushing you inside before following you.

“What?” He repeats once you’re both inside, “What did you say?”

The warmth is immediate but you feel no relief – just that same numbness from before. You’re dripping all over the floor, cold beyond belief as you look down at your ruined shoes.

“Th-They wouldn’t let me in.”

It comes out so quiet, so pitiful, so weak and resigned. Because you know he won’t care, that he’ll downplay it. But Steve’s blue eyes blaze with fury once realisation sets in. Face red and knuckles white, he turns to the living room. You must’ve been outside for a while because Sam is gone, and there’s only Bucky who sits with his feet reclined on the coffee table, casually typing away on his phone.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole?” Steve roars, striding into the living room and grabbing Bucky by the collar, yanking him up to his feet.

“Hey, hey, let the fuck go of me.” Bucky’s got a glare on his face as the blond alpha slams him against the wall, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Don’t act fucking stupid,” Steve sneers, “She was outside in the rain for God knows how fucking long. Look at her. She said you wouldn’t let her in.”

Bucky’s gaze shifts towards you, and you know you look like a dishevelled, soaking mess. There’s a split second where his eyes widen, and his throat bobs as he swallows. Then he blinks, that familiarly cruel smirk returning, “Oh. I guess I didn’t hear her knock.”

“Bullshit.”

“What’s going on–?” Sam chooses that moment to come thudding down the stairs. He stops short when he sees you shivering at the landing and the sizable puddle of rainwater by your feet.

“Why would you do it?” Steve slams Bucky against the wall once more, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this angry. Except the night he mated you.

“Relax the fuck out. It was a joke. Don’t act like you haven’t done shit like this before.”

“Don’t fucking joke with her.”

“I’ll joke with whoever the fuck I want, asshole. Just like how you used to,” Bucky sneers, “before you got yourself whipped on that omega slut.”

The look on Steve’s face is one of absolute livid fury, and he’s about to draw his fist back when–

“Steve, she looks like she’s hypothermic or something.” It’s Sam who speaks, stepping forward and swiftly coming between them. Steve glances at you before looking back at Bucky, giving the brunet one last menacing look before shoving him, then shoving Sam and making his way over to you.

“Both of you can go to hell.” He mutters, blue eyes still filled with rage as he grabs your arm. He inhales sharply, as if stung by how cold your skin feels. And ‘feel’ is a strong word because what you can’t feel is your toes, your fingers, the tip of your nose. And you can’t stop the violent, body-wracking shivers as your body fails to heat itself up.

Steve tries to pull you up the stairs, but it’s like you’re a solid block of ice – half frozen from cold and from the shock of everything that’s happened. Eventually, he just picks you up, carrying you up the stairs as you remain stiff in his arms.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you repeat the words in choked whispers till they lose meaning. And you don’t know what you’re apologising for, but you know Steve’s angry. Which means he’ll be angry at you – maybe for making him fight with his friends? Causing a huge commotion because you cried like a baby for being locked outside? Would he blame you again, tell you it’s all your fault?

Would he leave you?

“I’m s-s-sorry,” you can’t keep your teeth from chattering but you keep repeating it nonetheless, scared of what he might do, what your punishment will be, as he carries you up into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

You risk a look up at his face. There’s still anger in his eyes as he scans over your body, the way you’re trembling in his arms, cold fingers gripping onto him tightly. And for a moment, he just stands there. Stands there in the middle of his room as if he has no idea what to do, almost as if he’s at a loss.

“You’re really cold.” It’s all he says, and then he carries you into the bathroom, easily holding you close with one arm, and manoeuvring the other to open the tap and fill the bathtub with scalding hot water. You can see the steam rising invitingly, but it’s like all hope’s been snuffed out from within you – you don’t really care about getting warm anymore.

“A-A-Are you m-mad at me?” You ask Steve quietly, but maybe it’s too quiet, or maybe you asked it in your head because he doesn’t respond. Instead, he gently puts you down on your feet, unzipping your dress and taking it off, and then your shoes and sopping wet socks too. That’s when you realise you can’t feel your toes either.

The bath is boiling hot but it only feels lukewarm against your poor, cold-stricken body. He’s filled it up till the brim, so you sit there with your chin resting on your knees and arms wrapped around your legs protectively, as if any moment he’s going to turn on you, yell at you, tell you it’s your fault. And then you expect Steve to leave, and he almost does once he turns the faucet off. But he hesitates at the doorway, as if he’s afraid to leave you alone in the bathroom.

Finally, he decides to stay, sitting down on the floor next to the bathtub, his eyes glued to you. But the anger seems to be gone (or maybe he’s hiding it?). For a long while, no one says anything. And it’s there, in Steve’s bathroom as you sit in the scalding water, that something seems to break inside of you. As if any will you may have had has been sapped out of your body, leaving just a shell behind.

Steve clears his throat, “Are you still cold?”

Silence.

“Omega. Answer me.”

You don’t. Or you can’t. He seems far away.

“Do you want me to make the water hotter?”

Why is he being nice? Is it an act? Is he trying to trick you? Why hasn’t he punished you yet? This is all your fault, isn’t it? Isn’t it?

You stare straight ahead at the tiled wall in front of you. It’s black and white marble. Minimalistic. A simple pattern.

“Is there something written on my face that makes people to treat me like crap?”

It’s you who speaks – but you almost don’t recognise it. Clear, void of any emotion and no stutter. You feel like a ghost, out of your own body and watching yourself from a corner, resigned and not caring what happens next.

And Steve seems slightly taken aback – maybe he expected you not to speak at all. Maybe he only expected you to cry like you always do. But it’s as if you’ve cried all the tears you possibly can, and your body has no more left to give. It’s like you have nothing left inside you to give.

“They shouldn’t have done that.” Steve says darkly, “I’ll make sure they don’t pull shit like that ever again.”

You blink, but don’t respond. You know in your heart that you don’t believe him – not when he picks and chooses when to defend you.

“Is there something so glaringly wrong with me, that it makes people treat me like shit? You should know if there is, because you’re the one who started it, Steve. They wouldn’t be bullying me – no one would be bullying me – if it weren’t for you.”

You feel nothing as you say it, almost as if your body’s given up on protecting you; your tongue allowing you to say things that you’ve only ever dared to think about before. You were profusely apologising to him not five minutes ago, but now it’s like you can’t stop yourself from saying what’s been festering at the back of your mind for who knows how long. But your tone isn’t accusatory, just monotonous. You focus on the pattern on the wall – black, white, black, white, black, white. One white tile has a crack in it. A small one, but it’s there.

“Why did you bully me, Steve? What did I ever do to you, except keep my head down and mind my own business? Did you hate me that much? Do they hate me that much?”

Through your peripheral, you can see him holding his head in his hands for a second. And then he looks up, does that thing where he runs his hands through his hair. Eyes squeezed shut for a second, he opens them and looks down at you, and his hand hovers in the air for a second as if to grab yours, only to snatch it back at the last second.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Why did you treat me so awful, then? And persuade everyone else to do the same?”

Silence. No answer. But it’s not like you expected any different. You fold more within yourself, hugging your knees closer to your chest and letting a huge wave of shivers overtake you.

“Can you just… Could I be alone, please?”

He doesn’t budge even an inch, and again you get the feeling like he’s scared to leave you by yourself. But it feels even more alien when his hand comes up to stroke your hair back. The omega inside you sings for his touch but for once it’s like the numbness within you is overshadowing your base omega desires. You duck away from his hand, making him freeze and snatch it back once again.

After a few beats of silence, you speak once more.

“It’s me, isn’t it? There’s something about me that people just don’t like.  No matter how hard I try, how nice I act – it always seems to come back and slap me in the face.”

Steve, his tongue always ready with cajoling words and sweet nothings, seems to have nothing to say. You’ll never figure out how to read his expressions, but his brow is furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line.

“I’ve kept quiet all my life, kept my head down, kept out of everyone’s way – but none of it works.” You meet his gaze, that forever unreadable look; “Please… Please tell me why it never works?”

“I told you; I’ll make sure they never do shit like that again. You won’t have to worry anymore; I’ll make sure they don’t even speak to you–”

“You told me once that nobody cares about me.” You pick at your nails, sounding both broken and matter-of-fact at the same time, thinking back to Bucky’s words from earlier: No one cares if you hurt. “And you’re… you’re right, Steve. No one really does, otherwise Bucky and Sam would have just let me in. And no one would’ve ever bullied me. And… And my mom would answer my texts, and…” A sudden wave of anguish washes over you, “And my dad wouldn’t have left me.”

You don’t know why you’re telling him this now, but it seems like everything’s finally connecting in your head – everyone will leave you, even Steve. The alpha sucks in his breath, and again it’s like his fingers are dancing, creeping over to grab your hand that lays limply on the rim of the bathtub. And this time, he does, squeezing tightly except you’re so emotionally numb that you can’t even feel it.

“You know he left because he wanted a boy? An alpha? You were right, he didn’t care about me, left before my first birthday.” The pain associated with the one thing you never talk about, that you never even think about, is so strong that it almost winds you, and it makes your heart hurt. “N-Now he has a new family. Two sons. He even has a daughter, but I don’t think he’d ever leave her like he left me.”

Steve’s grip on your hand tightens, and you hear this growling sound that comes from his chest. But you’re so far down this well made up of your own pain and anguish, that it’s like Steve’s almost not even there.

“I don’t think my mom ever forgave me for him leaving. And you were right when you said that she doesn’t care about me either. I don’t remember the last time she called me, or even texted to check up on me.” You look up to see him open his mouth to speak but you beat him to it, “Steve, sometimes I… sometimes I hate myself for being like this, for driving everyone away.”

Steve whips his blonde hair out of his face, suddenly sitting up straighter and eyes molten blue with new heat, shoulders squared as if he’s defensive, “Don’t say shit like that.”

“But it’s true. And I drove you away too. To that other omega.” And now fresh anguish cuts through, splicing you open like a knife, the same pain you felt the moment Steve told you he’d kissed someone else.

“You didn’t drive me away–”

“That’s what you told me. You said it was my fault. And it was, and I made you cheat on me. All my fault – that’s what you said.”

“I didn’t mean–” He grabs your face, hands rough and calloused but so familiar, as if a thousand others could touch you at the same time but his touch is the only one you could ever recognise. Face inches from yours and intense gaze boring into you, he exhales sharply, “I didn’t cheat on you, omega. I don’t think you understand what cheating means, but kissing someone is not–”

“I’m not dumb.” You interrupt, and it’s funny because you wouldn’t have dared to ever interrupt him before now. But it’s like you’re a ghost, outside of your own body and long past the point of caring. “Maybe I’m a bit naïve but I know what cheating is.” Tears would’ve been flowing down your cheeks at this point, had you any tears left to cry, “And you know the worst part? You laughed as you told me.”

Steve shuts his eyes again for a second, really scrunches them up and you can see the furrow of his brow, the clench of his jaw. But you don’t know what any of it even means – is he angry with you? Annoyed? Irritated? Do you care?

“It didn’t mean anything with her. I came home to you in the end.”

It meant everything to me! You want to yell, but instead you sink down lower into the water, wanting it to swallow you up, pull you down the drain and away from everything. But strong hands grip your forearms, jerking you back up almost immediately. You suck in your breath before turning to face him, properly face him, “You still kissed her. And you– you gloated about it; told me it was my fault. N-Now you’re gonna leave me just like my dad did. Leave me for her.”

Steve shakes his head, his knuckles white from gripping your shoulders so tightly, “I don’t even remember her face.” He lifts you out of the tub, and you don’t even struggle because what’s the point? The fight seems to have left your body completely. He places you on his lap, naked and wet and trembling, strong arms encircling around you as they’ve done a thousand times before when he’s ready to sway you with his sweet words, “Omega. Listen to me, she meant nothing to me.”

“I don’t think I mean anything to you either.” It’s both an observation and a realisation. All these weeks of trying to persuade yourself that Steve has changed, that Steve’s good to you now, that surely Steve wouldn’t treat you how he treated Sharon. It’s a delayed reaction, but now you’re sure of it. As Bucky said: no one cares if you hurt. Least of all, Steve.

“You mean everyth–” Steve cuts himself off with another deep inhale, the muscles and veins in his neck tensing, “You mean a lot to me–”

“Don’t,” You interrupt him again, “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Steve. You do it all the time and I’ll always believe it – and it’ll all be a lie because it always is.” You shake your head, looking up into his shadowed blue eyes and feeling that lurch in your heart you always feel. “I’ll always fall for your words, Steve. Because you made me fall for you.”

A surge of indescribable anger overtakes you, washing over you like a tidal wave, drenching your already wet body in confused, accusatory rage. Feebly, as if testing the waters, you shove him. It’s a slight push against his chest, but then you do it again with a little more strength. And then again. He’s so strong, so big, so well-built, that he doesn’t even budge but you push him again anyways.

“I hate you for making me fall for you, even though you treated me like dirt at the bottom of your shoe!” You cry, shoving him harder while all Steve does is stare at you with that damned unreadable expression, “I hate you for not standing up for me,” Another shove, harder this time, and then another one, “I hate you for cheating on me, for laughing while you watched me cry. I hate you for making me care so much that it felt like my whole world ended when you told me you kissed her!”

Again and again, you hit him; and every time he just lets you do it. Not even raising a hand to defend himself, just allowing your pushes, slaps, punches and shoves to slam against his shoulders and chest. And everything’s a blur to you, black and white bathroom tiles melting into the blues in Steve’s eyes, and again you shove him, harder and harder, not even knowing you had this animosity inside of you until it came pouring out.

“I hate you for bonding with me when you don’t even care about me. Hate you for making me beg you not to leave me, hate you, hate you, I hate you!” Louder and louder your voice gets, till it’s bouncing off the walls of the bathroom, and you think you see a chip in Steve’s stoic expression when he winces, and you hit him even harder. You’ve never hit anyone in your life but it’s like you can’t stop, this animalistic anger radiating off you in waves.

He catches your fists in his hands easily, as easily as he’s crushed and stomped on your trust and feelings in the past. And he pulls you into him, muscular arms wrapping around you, clutching you to his chest, holding you there while you struggle against him, shove and punch and push, until you finally stop.

“I don’t hate you,” You whisper in defeat, “I can’t hate you – no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I should. I wish I did, but I can’t.” You lower your fists, sagging against his chest in defeat, voice breaking as finally, finally, the tears begin to fall. “Can’t hate you, Steve. Not even a little bit.”

Everything’s still. You. Him. The water in the bathtub. And then:

“I won’t hurt you again.” Steve’s voice comes out oddly thick.

“You’ll leave me.”

“I won’t.”

You stare at your hands, fingers shrivelled from the water, trembling from all the screaming you’ve just done, “Don’t believe you anymore.”

Steve sucks in his breath, and you look up to see him tug at his sweater, pulling it down to expose his neck, pale yet so thick and veiny, connecting to his muscular shoulders. He tilts his head slightly, eyes dark and deathly serious, blinking rapidly with a desperation that you’ve never seen on him before.

“Mark me too.”

Your head whips up, heart skipping several beats. Desperately, you search his face for a sign that he’s joking, that he’s about to laugh in your face. It’s almost instinctive to do that now – you don’t trust him; you don’t believe him. Despite the fact that there seems to be sincerity written on his features, you can see it brimming in his eyes that glow in the dim light of the bathroom, in his lips which practically purse with anticipation.

You don’t know what to say.

“Mark me too, omega. Like how I marked you. I don’t give a fuck about anyone else; I only want you. So claim me, if it’ll make you feel better. I’ll be yours just like how you’re mine.”

You gulp. Steve’s all about grand gestures and sweet words, but could he really mean it? When he’s barely said anything this whole time you’ve poured your frustrations out to him? For a moment, a wild nano-second, the feral omega within you wants to surge forward and bite him hard, claim him how he claimed you that fateful night a month or so ago. Make him hurt how he made you hurt the night he claimed you. Make him yours, and maybe, just maybe, you’d finally be happy?

But then you wilt, like all your feelings have rushed to a standstill and taken a nosedive down to the depths of your own mind. Dark doubts, insecurities, mistrust, hopelessness – all of that seems to overtake any innate desire you have to mate him right back. Clearly, the bond you both shared meant nothing to him when he’d cheated on you. What difference could your measly bite-mark on his neck really make?

“Make me yours.” He repeats.

“You’ll never be mine.” You shrink back within yourself, like a candle that’s been snuffed out, or a balloon that’s slowly deflating.

Steve blinks as if he can’t quite believe it, and you feel a peculiar wavering in your bond. “I don’t understand,” He says slowly, “I’m giving you permission to mark me, omega. Not anyone else, just you. So do it. Mark me.”

You bow your head, shaking it slowly, “I’m tired, Steve.”

There’s a certain pull that you feel in your bond with him, a heaviness in the connection you share. You’ve never felt it before. Hurt. It’s almost as if he’s hurt. Could Steve possibly be hurt? But the feeling is fleeting, glimmering slightly before disappearing altogether, making you think you imagined it to begin with.

No more words are shared between you as he helps you to your feet, wrapping his large black towel around you before guiding you back to the bedroom. Like you’re a kicked and injured puppy who needs him. You wonder if you’ll ever not need him.

You feel nothing as he pulls his old football jersey over your head. It’s your favourite one, the one with all the holes in it that smells so much like him. His lucky jersey, he’d told you once. But even the omega inside of you has quietened down, and you still feel so numb. Numb and cold. And hopeless. Even the bed doesn’t bring you any comfort as Steve tucks you in.

He sits by your side, stroking your hair. You struggle to keep your eyes open, the dark depths of sleep tugging you in, and you wonder what fresh nightmares await inside your head. Steve leaving you? Leaving you and your unborn child? You’re already half asleep when you think you hear him speak again, in an oddly gentle tone:

“When I kissed her, I closed my eyes and pretended it was you.” A pause, as if he’s mulling whether to say his next words, “You’re all I think about – and I think about you so goddamned much, it feels like I’m going insane. I can’t even look at another girl, all I see is you.”

It’s through the throes of sleep that you answer:

“Don’t believe you, Steve. Don’t trust you. How can we raise a chil–”

But even in your half-asleep state, your voice knows to trail off. You know what you were about to say: How can we raise a child together when I don’t even trust you? But you can’t tell him about the baby, not when everything is so uncertain.

Sleep pulls you into unconsciousness. Dark and quiet, you dream of nothing.

***

The next few days feel like you’re living in some sort of limbo, with things between you and Steve quieter than a pin dropping. There seems to be change in the foreboding alpha who used to make your heart stop every time he looked at you. Now, he teeters between a range of different emotions. Like masks – quickly exchanging one for the other. Wary – as if you’re made out of glass. Apologetic – except he’s yet to actually say sorry. Cautious – as if he thinks you might do something to hurt yourself. Angry – not directly at you but it scares you anyways.

And sometimes you don’t recognise him – but did you ever truly know him to begin with? And you also don’t recognise yourself. You feel like a snuffed-out candle and you don’t know what to do with yourself. Steve’s room suddenly feel suffocating, but where else are you supposed to go?

But it’s like there’s an invisible barrier stopping you from leaving his room. The fear of running into Bucky is the biggest barrier, and so everything else comes to a standstill. Cleaning, laundry, all the little things you used to do around the house for Steve and yourself. Things you didn’t even realise had become routine until now. You barely go into the kitchen anymore, with Steve now bringing food up to his bedroom for the two of you.

Soon, your end-of-year exams finish, and looking out onto campus through your window, you can see other students packing up and leaving. Laughing and hugging their parents who show up in pick-up trucks and moving vans. Friends saying tearful goodbyes because everyone’s going home for the summer. Is that what you should do? Go home? When your mother hasn’t given you a call in more than a few months now?

One day, you’re staring listlessly out the window when you hear a knock on the door. Turning your head ever-so-slightly, your eyes meet with Sam’s.

“Steve isn’t here.”

“I know. I wanted to speak to you.” Sam steps into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him. Your breath hitches in your throat, and the alpha scoffs when you get up and take a step backwards, “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

It’s less a fear of Sam and more a fear of something bad inevitably happening that makes you swallow harshly. Sam isn’t as bad as Bucky but he was still awful to you, still said the meanest things to you and had done nothing when Bucky locked you out of the house. So, your body is on high-alert as you gaze warily at him now.

“Go away.” You don’t want to beg him, but you don’t have the willpower to even try to be assertive anymore. It’s not like any of the alphas in this house ever listen to you, anyways. “Just go away, okay? I have nothing to say to you.”

Sam scowls at the floor, kicking the carpet before inhaling deeply and looking up to meet your eyes. Why is he here? To ridicule you? Berate you? Laugh at you? Do you even care anymore?

“I’m sorry, okay?” He blurts out, the words tumbling out of his mouth so quickly that you’re stunned for a second, unsure if you’ve heard him correctly. Sam himself looks stunned, and you get the feeling that he’s never apologised to anyone before, let alone an omega. And nobody’s ever apologised to you before, not any of the alphas who’ve bulled you. Not Steve. And certainly not Bucky.

Sam takes a step closer to you, and this time you don’t flinch away.

“Look, I won’t pretend I’m a saint, okay? I know I’ve never been nice to you… But things went too far the other day and I’m man enough to admit that.” He’s still speaking fast, as if he wants to get it all out before he changes his mind.

Should you trust him?

“And I don’t know what the fuck came over Bucky that night,” Sam continues, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Usually he’s the nicest out of the three of us. And I was high as fuck that night, I thought he’d let you in eventually, so I just went upstairs. But whatever, I’m not making any excuses for him or myself.”

You exhale slowly, willing yourself to look up at his face, search for even an ounce of laughter, or a twitch of a smile – any hint that this is all a sick joke.

“So, consider this an apology. And you don’t have to say anything, and you don’t have to forgive me. But just know that you won’t be getting that sort of treatment from me anymore.”

Silence. Except your mind’s working in overdrive: should you trust him? Should you believe him? Did you even want to forgive him? Does this apology make up for all the verbal abuse, berating and bullying that you’ve suffered, with him being one of the main perpetrators? Did his apology even matter anymore, when the damage was already done?

You never get a chance to respond because Steve walks in at that very moment. The blond alpha freezes at the doorway, a bouquet of yellow roses clenched in his hand and a frown quickly forming on his face. His blue eyes narrow as he looks from you to Sam, who’s standing only about a foot away from you.

“Get away from her before I fucking kill you.”

There’s a flurry of movement, the yellow roses drop to the floor and it takes Steve only two strides to cross the room and stand between you and the other alpha.

Sam raises an eyebrow, “Chill out. I only came in here to–”

“Get out.” Steve is curt and seething at the same time, and for a moment it looks like Sam’s about to square up. He opens his mouth to speak before clamping it shut and shaking his head.

“I’m so fucking done with this bullshit.” Sam says under his breath before exiting the room, leaving you alone with the sound of Steve’s rapid breathing as your alpha whips around to stare you down. Your heart lurches when he grabs you by the shoulders, shaking you while those blue eyes never leave your face.

“You were gonna fuck him, weren’t you?”

Your jaw drops at how ludicrous his accusation is, how shockingly unbelievable.

“Wh-What? No, I wasn’t–”

“Don’t lie to me.” With clenched teeth and eyes that look half crazed, you see his pupils darting around as if trying to find the truth in your face. Jaw clenching and unclenching, he squeezes your shoulders and shakes you again, “Don’t think I don’t know what game you’re playing. You think you can cheat on me just because I cheated on you?”

“No–”

“You think you could ever get away with that?” Blonde hair falling over his forehead, eyes bloodshot with anger, he looks like he’s teetering at the edge of his own sanity. “You think you could just hook up with someone else as some sick form of revenge on me, do you?”

“Steve, no–”

“Where’s your phone?” Steve looks incensed, eyes scanning the room like a man possessed. Grabbing it from on top of the dresser, he goes through it quickly. Like he’s done a thousand times before, except this time it’s like he knows he’ll find something. You thank your lucky stars that you deleted the phone call with Peter from your call history – not that that counted as cheating in the slightest.

His frown grows deeper as he opens every app, scrolls through every chat, scours through your call logs. But you feel an eery since of calm – which is the opposite of Steve who looks like he’s about to explode with whatever mad anger that’s suddenly consumed him.

“Don’t you fucking think you can go behind my fucking back, you got that? Especially not with my friends, or that fucking scum beta ex of yours.” He throws your phone down on the bed, clearly having found zero evidence to back his absurd claims, but it doesn’t stop him from glowering at you.

“Listen to me very carefully, omega.” Steve scrunches your face between his thumb and fingers, his expression so intense it chills your blood. “You’re mine. I’m your alpha and I own you. That’s never going to change. If you ever cheat on me, I’ll kill him. And you too.”

He slams his lips against yours in a kiss so bruising, you feel your lips burn. And this kiss is different, you can almost taste the desperation as he moves his tongue against yours. As he holds you close to him so tightly that it hurts, and you can’t breathe, and you feel like he’s never going to let you go.

You fight the urge to kiss him back – because even now, that urge is still there. It’ll always be there. Palms press desperately against his hard chest in a bid to push him away.

“I wouldn’t do that to you!” You cry out as you pull away, “I would never deliberately hurt someone I care about, Steve. I’m not you!”

He lets go of you as suddenly as he’d grabbed you, breathing hard and still seething. And it’s almost like you’re really seeing him now. Steve, who was always so poised, so smooth as he clinically seamed his words together in the past. But now? The distant, crazed look in his eyes, the dishevelled features, hair unkempt, jaw tense, lips bitten and pursed. He’s always been beautiful but there’s an unpredictable edge to him now that maybe wasn’t there before.

Was the alpha losing control?

He backs away, fists clenched at his sides and that intense and crazed expression still on his face. You both stare at each other, it feels like your heart’s about to thud out of your chest. And then abruptly, he turns and strides out of the room, stepping over the bouquet of yellow roses that lay trampled and dejected on the ground.

***

The days all start looking the same. You’re so stationary in Steve’s room yet you feel like you’re running. Constantly running and hiding from the responsibility of the child growing inside of you. Tell him, tell alpha! He deserves to know! The omega inside of you shrieks and croons, but something’s stopping you from doing it. There’s a mountain of problems surrounding you and Steve – where would a baby fit in all of that?

The silence between the two of you grows louder as each day passes. Barely any words spoken, and a certain awkwardness that was never there before – certainly never from Steve himself. Yet despite all that, every night he holds you while you sleep. And every morning, you wake up in his warm embrace. And it’s only in those moments, in the quiet of the night with the weight of his arms around you, that you can pretend everything’s okay.

And then one day, Steve walks into the room and sits next to you on the bed. You think nothing of it, barely glancing at him before going back to examining the pattern of the duvet cover.

“Omega.” Steve says, but as usual he seems so far away. And it’s almost like you don’t have the energy to acknowledge him, even when he grabs your hand and squeezes it. It’s only when he says your name – your real name – that you look up. He barely ever calls you that.

“Have you eaten today?” He asks, a frown adorning his features when you shake your head listlessly. You’d attempted to go down to the kitchen earlier, but upon hearing Bucky’s voice you’d turned and come straight back into the bedroom, heart pitter-pattering and a sinking feeling in your chest.

He takes out a wrapped deli sandwich and a bottle of water from his gym bag. His blue eyes watch you like a hawk as you slowly take a sip of water and tear off a bit of the sandwich, chewing softly. It tastes like nothing, but you figure it’s better to just keep quiet and eat it – since you’re meant to be eating for two now anyways. And just that thought sends shivers down your spine – how long can you pretend not to acknowledge the existence of the baby growing inside of you? How long before you have to tell him?

Steve clears his throat, “Look, I know things have been…” His voice trails off as he watches you tear off tiny pieces of your sandwich, staring into your lap because you just can’t seem to look at him. He shifts around, and you feel a spark of unease in the bond you share with him.

“I got you something.” He says finally, reaching into his gym bag a second time, he takes something out and throws it into your lap.

The fur looks worn out and one ear is missing, and you can see the haphazard stitches on the teddy bear’s neck that hold it together. Not the neatest thread work, but it looks strong enough despite the head which is slightly lopsided. Coal black eyes shining bright as ever, and the same blue bow tie except now it has a few more loose threads than before.

“Steve Junior…” You breathe, running your fingers over the stuffie, and his fur feels just as soft as before. He looks so old, so worn out, pieced together and stitched so precariously but it’s him. As ridiculous as it sounds – he’s just a stuffed animal after all – but it’s him and now suddenly your mouth feels dry. You bring the stuffie up to your nose and you’re bathing in Steve’s alpha scent, so potent and rich and warm.

“It took me a while to find someone who’d fix him up.” Steve breaks the silence, scratching the back of his neck. You sneak a peek up at his face to find him scanning yours, as if gauging your reaction. “A lot of his cotton stuffing was dirty so I had to replace it. But the rest of him is all him, just as he was before. I thought of just buying you a new one, but I figured you’d appreciate this more.”

You nod slowly, stroking the top of Steve Junior’s head as if you can’t get enough of it. “You gathered up all the pieces from the kitchen floor?”

“Yes.”

It’s a monosyllabic answer, but his eyes say a lot more. At least, you think they do and you wish he’d verbalise it. Instead, with a hesitancy that was never there before, Steve slowly pulls you into his lap, holding you close against his chest, where you can feel the dull thud of his heartbeat. And you let yourself be held, feeling his alpha warmth that you haven’t felt in a while now.

Warm hands cup your face and make you look up at him. And it’s his tenderness that you can’t wrap your head around. Is this the same Steve who so vehemently accused you of cheating on him just days ago? Why was it always a different emotion with Steve? Always a different mask, as if he could switch them out so easily. What were you supposed to believe?

He kisses you like someone who’s parched, and again you feel that desperation on his lips. Before, his kisses were always so confident, self-assured, taking what he needed from you and leaving you breathless and reeling in the process. Now, he’s gentle. Handling you as if you’re made of glass. And it feels so foreign to you.

You let yourself kiss him back. Steve sighs and increases his pace, tongue swiping over your bottom lip, making you gasp before he gains entrance. His hands fall down to your hips at the same moment your arms wind around his neck. It’s frenzied movement and a blur of limbs, like two people who’ve suddenly realised they can’t get enough of each other after days of no contact.

“Fuck,” Steve mutters under his breath, squeezing your hips before his hand slips down between your legs, cupping your mound in his warm grip. You pant, jerking forward, squashing Steve Junior between both your bodies. You pull away long enough to prop your stuffie up on your pillow, making sure he’s sitting upright before Steve drags you back to him.

“You need me, don’t you?” He whispers fervently against your lips, biting and nipping while the heel of his palm grinds against your clothed pussy. “Tell me you need me.”

You do need him; you’ll always need him. It’s what terrifies you the most. But you try not to think, try to lose yourself in the feeling of his lips smattering kisses all over your jaw and moving down to your neck. He slips his hand into your panties, eliciting another gasp from you, and a jerk from your hips that can’t help but want him.

You start moving against his hand, riding it while he slips a finger inside you. Your slippery pussy swallowing his digit as if you’re starved, walls so needy that they constrict around him and you moan, grabbing at his shoulders, wanting to feel more of him. Nothing’s solved, nothing’s okay – but he’s made you so addicted to his touch that, for a second, it doesn’t even seem to matter.

His hands have snaked up your shirt, palm pressing against your belly like how he always used to do before. Except now it’s different, now it makes your eyes widen and a cold panic rise in the pit of your stomach. Again, the picture plays behind your eyes: you, alone with your baby. Dark and dreary, and Steve’s nowhere to be found. He’s gone. He’s left you. Did he kiss that other omega like this?

“STOP!”

You push hard against his chest, the force of the blow surprising both of you. You scramble off him, hands shaking and you can still feel his burning kiss on your lips, and his touch on your body too. You back away slowly, shaking your head and breathing hard.

“I can’t, I–” Your eyes dart to Steve’s face, and he’s looking up at you with what looks to be concern, as if he’s just kicked an already injured puppy. Repeatedly, you shake your head, “I’m sorry, I just… I just can’t!”

Running to the bathroom, you slam the door shut and that’s when the tears spurt out and you’re sobbing and sobbing. It seems like you’re always crying – as if the self-pity will just never end – but it’s like you can’t stop. Why couldn’t you just become okay again?

Everything is okay! The omega inside you screeches. He fixed Steve Junior! It shows he cares! Everything’s okay now!

If everything was okay, then why did nothing feel fine at all?

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you see an omega who is weak and broken. Red eyes, bitten nails, puffy face. Hair unkempt, hands shaking pathetically, clothes crumpled. Was this the omega who was meant to keep Steve happy? Was this the omega who was going to have his baby? You cradle your stomach as rivulets of tears flow down your face.

“What are we gonna do?” You whisper softly, your sobs making your words almost indecipherable. “I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do.”

You don’t hear the thud of the footsteps, only the crash of the bathroom door as it’s thrown open, Steve striding towards you and grabbing your shoulders before you have a chance to even cower.

“What’s wrong with you?” He roars, but there’s desperation in his anger as he shakes you by the shoulders.

“I don’t know!”

“What’s it going to take to get you to go back to how you were before?”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

You flinch when he draws his hand back, wondering if this is it. If he’s finally run out of whatever patience he had up until this point and now you’re in for it. You brace yourself for the inevitable blow, taking a deep breath and willing yourself to disassociate from the pain. But you only see Steve looking at you incredulously, his hand slowly curling into a fist by his side.

“I wouldn’t hit you.”

He looks almost appalled, staring down at his own fist for a handful of tense seconds, during which you can hear the sounds of your own rapid breathing and every single beat of your heart too.

“It wouldn’t matter if you did.” You say it softly, more to yourself than to him.

As if exhausted of all his options, Steve’s grip on you loosens. Blue eyes boring into yours, reflecting the helplessness that you can also detect in your bond.

“I told you to forget about it.” His hands cup your face again, thumbs swiping away your tears. “Why can’t you just forget about that night, why can’t you just let me make you happy?”

More than anything, you wish you had an answer for him.

***  

Despite talking lesser and lesser and slowly becoming strangers by day, the magnetic pull between the two of you increases at night. Where it’s dark and warm and you can pretend it’s all okay, that’s when Steve holds you and you let yourself be held by him every single night.

Which is why you wake up with a start, on the bed completely empty besides you and the newly resurrected Steve Junior.  A glance at your phone tells you it’s past midnight – so, where’s Steve? Blindly, you reach out for him – but he’s not there and, despite everything, this troubles you.

He’s left you, the dark voice at the back of your head cackles. You thought you could get away with being upset with him for this long, and now he’s left you, just like he said he would if you got out of line.

You’re not even fully awake before you’re on your feet, trying to keep your dizziness at bay. It’s another symptom of your pregnancy, another reminder of the secret you’re holding inside of you, another reminder that you need to tell someone. But right now, all you can focus on is where is Steve?

You find him on the small balcony that overlooks the back of the house. Elbows resting on the railing and blonde hair looking silver in the moonlight. He looks back as if he senses you, cigarette between his lips and a cloud of smoke surrounding him before he turns his back to you once more.

Before you can change your mind and go back to bed, you venture forward to stand beside the alpha, heart thudding as it always does whenever you’re near him. After days of his hot and cold behaviour and your own depleting moods, you realise you don’t know how to act around him or what to say. A gust of cold wind blows and you shiver, but it gives you this sudden burst of courage to speak.

“You shouldn’t smoke so much.” You blurt out. It’s the only thing you can think of to say; you’ve seen Steve smoke here and there a few times, at parties or gatherings with his friends. But never at home, in the middle of the night, with two empty beer cans rolling around by his feet.

To your surprise, Steve puts the cigarette out. Dropping it to the floor and stomping on it before turning away from you to exhale the final puff of smoke. You watch as it swirls into the night air, dissipating almost immediately.

“Sharon used to say that a lot.” He remarks, and hearing his ex’s name on his tongue feels like a punch to your gut – he’s never voluntarily mentioned her before. You turn around to leave, but his next words stop you short. “It’s funny, because I never gave a fuck about what she said. Or any of the other girls I was with.” He looks at you squarely, “I cheated on all of them too. And I never thought anything of it.”

It feels like there’s needles in your throat when you swallow, tumbling all the way down to your stomach and tearing you up from the inside out. Why is he telling you this?

“I thought it would be the same with you. You’re just an omega after all, why should I care about what you say or how you feel?” The full moon’s reflecting in his eyes, giving them an alien silver glow that makes him look like a stranger. And maybe he is a stranger, because he’s never opened up like this with you before.

“But I do.” He says it so quietly, it almost gets lost in the night air. Another gust of chilly wind has your teeth chattering, goosebumps covering your bare arms as you stand there and stare at him in only your nightgown. You don’t protest when Steve shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, smoothening the lapels and his fingers linger at your collarbone. For a split second, he leans closer, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply before sighing.

“I’ve hurt girls in the past and I’ve never cared. But you…” He turns back, looking over the balcony railing, and you wait a few beats, your mind silently urging him to finish his thought.

“I thought I could cheat on you and things would be fine after that. That I’d scare you into acting right and we’d just go back to how things were.” The words tumble out of his mouth quickly, as if he’s spitting them out before his ego catches up and swallows them back into his brain.

“Sharon warned me about you.” You blurt out.

His head whips around, faster than the frenzied winds that surround the two of you, “You spoke to her?”

“I–I didn’t believe her. I didn’t want to believe her because I liked you so much.”

“I know you did.” Steve cocks his head to the side, looking at you almost curiously. The stars dance in his eyes, and tufts of his blonde hair blow up with the strong wind, “How could you like me that much, despite everything?”

You don’t know what to say. How could you like him that much? Despite everything he’d done to you? Was it because the forced mating compelled you to feel things for him? No – your feelings were more complex than that. They’ve been there since the beginning, when he would bully you and you wished to God that he would like you. To after he mated you, and how you’d persuaded yourself that he’d changed, that he did like you now. To when he confessed to cheating, and your whole world broke down…

It's less of a realization and more of a fact: you like Steve a lot – more than Peter and more than your mother. Because you could live without Peter and you could even live without your mother. But you don’t think you could ever live without Steve.

When you don’t answer, Steve sucks in his breath and looks away again, “You’re pure, you know? The way you act, how good you are. And it… confuses me.”

You have to grip the railing hard to keep yourself rooted in reality – was Steve genuinely confiding in you?

“I’ve never second-guessed myself before.” He says after a long, long pause. As if he’s got a script pictured in his mind and he keeps mentally rewriting it and scratching things out. “But you… You make me second-guess everything.” It sounds like an accusation, but a resigned one; and you focus on his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “I shouldn’t have made you think I was going to leave you. Because I won’t. Ever. I can promise you that right now.”

You nod, tentatively taking a step towards him and he mirrors your actions, his hand reaching up to stroke your cheek. It’s instinctive when you lean into his touch, feel the rough pads of his fingers rub against the soft skin of your face. He traces your cheekbones, and he’s so gentle. You wish you could freeze this moment, because Steve’s emotions are like the changing tide. Would he be this tender tomorrow or the day after – or even two minutes from now?

“You should go back to bed.” He says abruptly, as if on cue.

Why is your heart sinking? Why do you want to stay? But you listen to him anyway, a large part of you will always listen to him, always want to be good for him. And it’s when you’re a good few steps away that you hear him clear his throat.

“Omega?”

“Yes, Steve?”

“I’m sorry. For all of it.”

A coolness spreads across your chest, like a pleasant, soothing balm that calms you from the inside out. Your heart steadies, and you feel like you can breathe again.

***

“He’s not in his room, Steve.”

“I don’t fucking care.”

“He’s our running back, we need him. Especially today.”

“Jensen can play his position. Now let’s just fucking go.”

Behind the closed door of your bedroom, you can hear Steve and Sam’s muffled voices out in the hallway. You don’t mean to eavesdrop, but the two of them seem to be growing collectively louder and louder.

The tension seems to be running high between the two of them – you’ve hardly seen them speak since the day Sam apologised to you and Steve exploded on him. But the two alphas seem even more stressed out today, with the final football match of the season against a rival college in less than a few hours.

“Jensen can’t play as good as Bucky.” Sam quips.

“Bucky’s not here.” Steve says through clenched teeth, “He’s probably out somewhere, either passed out or hungover. And we don’t have time to start a manhunt for him so let’s just go.”

The bedroom door bursts open and you freeze as Steve storms in past you. The two of you haven’t spoken since last night when he’d apologised on the balcony. Granted, he’d been busy all day prepping for the game tonight – last minute workouts and strategizing with his team. And you had about three loads of laundry to get through since you’d been neglecting things like that for the past few weeks now.

And yet the lack of contact between the two of you made you wonder whether he was already regretting his apology. Or worse – what if he was going to pretend that he never apologised at all?

If anything, Steve seems more riled up and on edge now than ever, rummaging through the already messy bedroom (you had neglected cleaning too, and it’s not like Steve himself ever cleaned). “Where the fuck is it??” He murmurs under his breath, tossing clothes out of the closet and onto the floor.

“Wh-What are you looking for?” You ask him quietly, wondering whether he can detect the awkwardness in your tone. Sure, he’d apologised – but where do the two of you stand now? In some awkward limbo between “okay” and “not okay”?

Steve sighs, stepping away from the closet and grabbing his gym bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he makes his way over to you.

“Nothing.” He murmurs, reaching out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. You gulp, wanting to say something, anything. Maybe wish him luck for the game? But you’re too shy, lips feeling like they’re glued together and heart beating harder than ever. Steve opens his mouth to say something else, and then–

“STEVE, LET’S GO!” Sam bellows from downstairs.

Steve leaves without another word.

You spend the day doing all the chores you’d neglected for the past few weeks. It’s crazy to you how much of a difference two words can bring about. You’d spent the past few weeks lying listlessly in bed, feeling numbingly indifferent half the time and cripplingly stressed out for the other half. And you’re still stressed – how can you not be? Pregnant within your first year of college and you still haven’t told a soul.

But it’s somewhat easier now to make a mental list of everything – washing and drying three hampers of clothes (you wonder if you can put Steve Junior in the washing machine but after seeing the precarious stitches on his neck, you conclude that handwashing him would be safer). You also venture downstairs to clean the kitchen (and it’ll never cease to shock you, what a mess three alphas can make).

It's only when you’re deep into cleaning the bedroom that the vacuum cleaner catches on something poking out from under Steve’s side of the bed. A rectangular book with a black velvet cover – it seems unassuming enough yet it piques your curiosity anyways. Maybe because it’s got Steve’s scent all over it.

You expect blank pages – Steve’s not the type to make notes – but nothing could truly prepare you for what you actually see when you open the book.

It’s you.

Over and over again. Drawn on one page, then again on the next. You flip five pages down, and there you are again. Different renditions of you on almost every single page and the book is more than half filled up. You in pencil sketches, you in watercolour; there’s one of you with a pen in hand, clearly taking notes. Another of you sitting under a tree, drinking from a juice-box, one of you on your phone, and plenty more of you studying – always wearing your oversized hoodie.

The most recent one is of you sleeping, wearing his jersey with the holes in it and Steve Junior clutched tightly in your arms. It’s with shaky breath that you trace a trembling finger over the masterful strokes, admiring the accuracy of the teddy bear’s blue bow tie – all the way down to the loose threads! And the attention to detail is astounding – your hair, your skin, the slight furrow between your brows…

It's a lot to take in. Had Steve drawn these? He must have! You didn’t even know Steve could draw like this because never once had he done it in front of you. And how long had he had this book for? There were so many drawings – was it from before you and him got together? Carefully, you close the sketchbook and place it neatly back under the bed.

Almost as if you’re in a trance, you walk around to your own side of the bed to where your little makeshift nest is. What’s left of it anyways, since you haven’t really kept up with the upkeep and right now all it consists of is your teddy bear and Steve’s jersey with the holes in it.

His lucky jersey. Was that what he’d been looking for earlier?

Steve Junior looks at you with his coal black eyes as if conveying to you exactly what you’re thinking. Thoughts racing, you stroke his fur softly, the action reminding you of the rare occasions when Steve would fall asleep before you with his face buried in the crook of your neck. When you’d card your fingers through his hair because you were too shy to do it when he was awake.

You feel the sudden urge to do it now as you hold onto his lucky jersey. The one he was looking for. The one he probably needs right now. Right?

Grabbing your phone to check the time, you find that it’s already early evening – the game would be almost over by now. Could you possibly make it in time? Would this even be worth it?

You seem to have made up your mind before you can even begin to answer any of those questions.

***

“Let her in, that’s the quarterback’s girlfriend.”

Getting into the college stadium is easier than you thought it would be. In fact, it’s surprisingly easy, as if the universe is paving a path for you straight to Steve. You thought your significance at university was that of an ant surrounded by giants – but the guys hanging by the ticket booth recognise you immediately, one of them even offering to personally take you inside.

“You should go to the box by the front, that’s where all the girlfriends hang out.”

Never in your life have you been to a college football game before – or a football game of any variety for that matter. Feeling completely out of your depth, you put all your faith into this guy you’ve just met as he guides you through the waves and waves of people. You try your hardest to swallow down your anxiety – you hate large crowds – your nails digging into your palms while your heart races, already wondering whether coming here was a mistake.

“I’m Colin, by the way.” The guy says before pausing to look up at the gigantic scoreboard, “Uh-oh. We’re still down by a few points. That’s why I was outside, couldn’t handle the pressure – even as just a spectator.”

Down by a few points? You clutch Steve’s lucky jersey harder between your fingers, wondering what exactly you thought you’d accomplish by coming here. The game was in full swing – it’s not like you could toss the jersey into the field and hope Steve would notice and pick it up.

“I just think today’s a bad day for the team,” Colin explains, “Steve seems distracted – well, that’s what my friend Jake told me. Jake’s on the team too, but he’s usually on reserve. Except he’s playing today because Bucky didn’t show up, and if you ask me–”

Colin’s voice drowns out as your nerves go into overdrive. Slowly, after ages of weaving through a very intense and rowdy crowd, the two of you make it to a cluster of seats in the front row. A bunch of cheerleaders are standing there in a group, biting their nails with frowns and looks of concern etched on their faces – the girlfriends.

You gulp, glancing down at your own attire and knowing you’ll stick out like a sour thumb. All your new clothes that Steve had bought you were currently in the washing machine – leaving you with the one piece of clothing that you hadn’t worn in a long time. Your oversized hoodie.

Not that it matters right now.

“Well, there you go. Front row seats to all the action – although it’s looking pretty bleak right now, so I’d look away if I was you.” Colin grimaces, glancing at the scoreboard once more. “We’re down by five points and there isn’t much time left on the clock.”

You manage a tight smile, feeling like a tiny fish inside the Pacific Ocean. “Thank you for helping me, Colin.” You say softly.

“No worries.” Colin’s already walking away – clearly, he has no faith left in this game, “Oh, and please don’t tell Steve I spoke to you, okay? He’s probably going to be in a bad mood when – if – we lose this game, and he usually takes his anger out on Jake or me, and this’ll just make it worse, and–”

And then he’s gone, and you make your way past the cluster of cheerleaders, whispering out a soft “excuse me” every time you make eye contact with one of them. They all look you up and down, but thankfully don’t say anything as you walk over to the front, where you now have a clear view of the field.

Steve’s got his team in a huddle, yelling out instructions that you can’t hear. He’s in his blue jersey with his helmet under his arm, blonde hair fluffy and messy and his face pale yet flushed at the same time. And he does look stressed and distracted just how Colin had said. Would he be angry if his team lost? Would he be mad at you for coming? With Steve, one never really knew what to expect, and you suddenly feel extremely foolish, standing here in your ill-fitted hoodie with a jersey full of holes in your hands.

All the players take their positions for the final few minutes of the game. From your limited understanding of football, you can tell that the stakes are very high. The girl next to you can’t stop biting her nails and clutching onto her friend’s arm.

Your eyes are trained on Steve, focused only on him despite the fact that there’s ten other players wearing the same blue jersey and helmet as him. That’s when you feel the mark on your neck suddenly prickle, and Steve’s heard jerks up at that exact moment as if on cue, turning back to look directly at you.

His face is obscured by his helmet, but it makes your breath catch in your throat all the same. Like it did every time he’d strut into the lecture hall, every time you’d see him in the hallways, and those times when he’d show up to your dorm room. He’s yards away from you, but you shoot him a small smile – it’s the first time you’ve smiled at him in a long time now and you wonder if he can even see it.

The whistle blows and there’s a flurry of movement. For a handful of seconds which feel like ages, you don’t even know where the ball is. Everything’s moving so fast, and a glance up at the gigantic timer shows you there’s barely any time left. But the seconds feel like hours, the anticipation growing high not only within you but in the crowd around you. You lean forward over the rails, eyes scanning the field and you see a blur of blue with a handful of players chasing behind it.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Steve run so fast, yard after yard, as if he’s racing against the clock – which he is. And then his teammate – all the way from the other end – heaves the ball downfield. You see it soaring in the air, so quick that it’s easy to miss. And there’s mere seconds left on the clock, and there’s about four defenders surrounding Steve but he’s gotten past the goal line, and he jumps up, and –

There’s a split second of silence before the stadium erupts in cheers. You realise you’d been holding your breath, and you blink several times before you see the ball in Steve’s hands, hoisted up high. And he’s cleared the goal line, and his teammates are charging at him, whooping in the air.

“I can’t believe it!” The cheerleader next to you screeches in glee, grabbing her friend as they both jump up and down, “A touchdown! We won!”

And sure enough, the huge screen at the front flashes “touchdown!” in huge block letters, and everyone seems to be beside themselves. You exhale in relief, the cheerleaders’ infectious excitement rubbing off on you as you can’t help but smile. Steve is swarmed by his team, and they lift him up. And now you can see him more clearly, see when his eyes zero in on you.

On the shoulders of his teammates, but he’s looking directly at you. You want to give him a little wave but you feel too shy, and you wonder whether you should leave now since he’d obviously want to celebrate with his team. But, as if he somehow senses your intentions, it takes Steve about a millisecond to get back down on the ground, and then he breaks into a run – straight towards you!

You grip onto the railing in anticipation, and Steve crosses the distance in almost record time. There are people in the crowd who’ve invaded the pitch, congratulating his teammates and staring after him as he makes a beeline towards you. Wide-eyed, you stare as he gets closer and closer, his cheeks flushed pink and chest puffed out as he comes to a stop in front of you.

“You’re here.” He says, slightly out of breath.

“Y-Yeah, you’re uh–” You’re suddenly at a loss for words, but you hold up his lucky jersey as if that’s a sufficient enough explanation. Clearing your throat, you add: “Congratulations, Steve. You played really well.”

He stares at you for a moment, and then before you know what’s happening, his hands wrap around your hips, lifting you up over the barrier and into his arms. You squeak, arms instinctively winding around his neck and your legs wrap around his waist.

He kisses you, and there’s an explosion of summer sunshine behind your eyes and all around you. The scent of firewood and an intense summer day interweaves through all your senses – all you can taste, smell, breathe is him. And it’s you who pulls him closer, returning his kiss with double the enthusiasm, your lips working against his as if you’re willingly ready to be consumed in him.

Steve draws back, only to kiss you again. One peck, another peck, and then one of his hands slips up and cups your cheek, pulling your face even closer as his tongue probes against yours and he sucks sweetly on your bottom lip, leaving you breathless yet wanting even more when he suddenly pulls away.

“I love you.”

The words seem to burst out of him – and it seems like both of you stop breathing as soon as he says it. As if you’re both encased in this bubble and the people around you don’t matter and those three words are bouncing around the confines of this bubble, echoing and growing louder, embracing you like a hug.

And your whole world stops. There are hundreds of people around you but they all seem to freeze in place, and you can hear your heart thumping to the same beat as his. And his eyes are clear blue and earnest, and you can see your reflection in them. Shocked, surprised, caught off guard yet every cell in your body rapidly filling up with hope.

“Don’t say that…” You breathe, “D-Don’t say things you don’t mean.” Or else I’ll believe you.

“I mean it.” Steve presses his forehead against yours, gripping you so tightly that you feel like you can’t breathe – but in a good way. “I mean it, omega. I’m in love with you.”

He savours each word as he says it, and you feel this hot and cold feeling – rushes of it – throughout your body. Sparks in the pit of your tummy like tiny butterflies fluttering excitably, or firecrackers ready to erupt in a shower of what feels like pure happiness. You feel light, like you could float forever as his words keep repeating inside your head like a song.

Up until this moment, you’ve second-guessed almost every single word he’s said to you. But why aren’t you second-guessing this? Why is your whole body trusting and believing him, erupting in elation as he holds you close? He loves you. Steve loves you! Love! You don’t think anyone’s ever told you they’ve loved you before. Or made you feel this strange feeling; this heady mixture of wanting to laugh and wanting to cry, of feeling so overwhelmed and yet so at home, and, and and–

“Steve, I’m pregnant.”

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. And maybe you don’t want to stop them anymore, because the relief you feel is almost instantaneous.

And Steve stares at you for the longest time, and you focus on the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes rapidly, pink lips parted slightly as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. For one horrific second, you think he’s going to drop you and leave, and take his “I love you” back and tell you it’s over. But he holds you even tighter, and you realise you’re moving as he walks the two of you to a door off to the side, leading to the changing rooms.

Once inside, he sets you down gently on your feet and pins you against the wall, trapping you against his considerably larger frame, looking down at you with an almost foreign look on his face, as if he can’t quite grasp what you’re saying.

“You’re pregnant?” He repeats.

“Yes, I am.”

“Pregnant.” Steve says it again, more to himself than to you, cupping your face, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones lightly. “My omega. Pregnant.”

“Yes.” The more you confirm it and the more he says it, the realer it seems. But it’s crazy how much less scary the prospect of pregnancy sounds when the word is coming out of his mouth. “I took three tests; they all came out positive. My period never came–”

His lips press against yours in a heady kiss that leaves you reeling, and he’s holding you so tightly that you feel light-headed. “My girl carrying my baby, just like I said you would.” Steve whispers against your lips. A smile breaks out across his face, “Baby, you’ve made me so proud.”

Proud. He’s proud. Proud of you.  

He gets down on his knees in front of you, your breath catching in your throat because he’s so big. Even on his knees, his face is level with your chest. His hands, so big and warm, trail softly down your figure – the gentlest he’s ever been. Fingers splayed out and stroking carefully over your stomach, he lifts your hoodie up and presses his face against your soft, exposed skin.

“You’re so tiny,” he breathes, almost in wonder. “So little… How’re you gonna carry my baby inside you when you’re so little?”

Your chest rises as you inhale deeply, a soft whisper of “I don’t know…” leaving your mouth.

Butterfly-light kisses trail up and down your stomach, his lips dragging against your skin, tongue peeking out to lick, nip and suck at your belly – as if he wants to devour you. You get the strong urge to card your fingers through his hair, but you’re so shy that you hesitate, jerking forward instead when the tip of his tongue probes inside your belly button.

Steve looks up, the wonder in his eyes now replaced with a familiar, devilish sparkle.

“I always knew I’d knock you up before the year was over.” He boasts cockily, one hand still firmly stroking your stomach like he’s grown addicted to the feeling. “Didn’t I say it from day one? That I was gonna fuck my baby into you? And now look at you, knocked up like the good, dutiful omega I knew you’d be under my wing.”

He sounds how he did before, the same cocky Steve. But there’s an underlying lightness to his words, this infectious excitement that’s so different from your own cold fear of being pregnant.

“You don’t think it’s too soon, Steve? I mean, I don’t think I’m ready–”

“You’re ready.” He interrupts you, words spoken between kisses against your stomach – it seems like he can’t refrain from kissing you there – “It’s an omega’s duty to have her alpha’s babies, and didn’t I say I’ve got a plan? You, me, and my baby – it’s all coming together now.”

“B-But what about college? You’re graduating now but I’ve still got two more years left, and–��

“You don’t have to worry about any of that anymore.” Steve cuts you off again, standing up to his full height so you have to crane your neck to look up at him. With his shoulder pads on, he looks even bigger than usual, “Didn’t I say I’d take care of you?”

Your concerns are swallowed up by his kiss, and his hand slips down to hook under your thighs. He picks you up easily, and he’s so strong; he only needs one arm to carry you, his other hand cupping your face and pulling you in for another kiss – as if he can’t seem to get enough.

“Poor little baby omega,” He coos, laying you down on a nearby bench and climbing on top of you. You can hear the roar of the crowd close by, everyone celebrating this monumental win for the football team. You know for a fact there are people milling about near you. Steve is undeterred, however, kissing down your neck as he pushes your hoodie up to expose your chest.

“You must’ve been so stressed, huh baby?” More kisses as he unclasps your bra and pulls it off hastily, throwing it somewhere behind him as his eyes zero in on your bare breasts.

“Y-Yeah, I was.” You can’t help but sniffle, sounding small and pathetic but you can’t help it. Telling Steve about the baby feels like a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders, the agonising stress inside your head easing bit by bit as Steve’s large hands squeeze and grope your tits roughly.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl. You don’t have to worry about anything anymore. I know your little brain is tired from thinking so much, now you just leave all the thinking to daddy, okay? All you have to focus on is being a mommy.” He buries his face in your breasts, nuzzling and inhaling your soft skin, squeezing and pushing your tits together till they hurt while you whimper beneath him.

“St-Steve, someone might – ah! – someone might see us!”

“Shhh, didn’t I just tell you not to worry about anything?” He takes your hoodie off completely, and now you’re topless and completely at your alpha’s mercy. He grins wolfishly down at you, “Now, did you know that pregnant baby omegas like yourself are meant to feed their alphas too?”

Your eyes pop open, “Wh-What?”

Steve smirks, palming your tits roughly before rubbing one of your stiff nipples between his thumb and forefinger. You’re half enamoured by the thrill of it, and half paranoid that someone’s going to walk in and see all this, but Steve doesn’t seem to care.

“You didn’t know that you’re meant to feed daddy too? God, you really are a baby, aren’t you?” He pinches your nipple before his tongue peaks out and licks around it, making it even more erect. “All pregnant omegas have to let their alphas have a taste of their milk.”

“I haven’t – ah! – I haven’t read about that anywhere!” You try not to moan.

“That’s because you’re just a baby,” Steve coos before encasing your nipple in his mouth and giving suckling on it not so gently. And the action sends thrills straight down to your core, making you gasp breathlessly and clutch onto his broad shoulders. He releases your nipple with a pop, “Now omega, are you gonna let daddy drink your little mommy milk?”

You squirm, “Y-Yes?”

He twists your nipple roughly, “Say it, then.”

“Y-Yes, you can drink it.”

Another pinch. “Say it properly.”

“Yes, you can drink my mommy milk!” You cry out.

Steve smiles, pulling your cheek condescendingly, “Good girl. Not that I would need your permission, since you’re mine after all.” He gives your nipple a feather-light kiss before encasing it between his lips again, teeth grazing against the sensitive bud.

“And address me properly, or I’ll call the whole football team and make them watch while I fuck you.” You can feel him harden at the thought, “I’ll show them exactly how I knocked you up in the first place.”

“Daddy…” you whine, “N-Not in front of anyone, please!”

Steve licks his lips as his eyes drink you in, like a carnal wolf admiring his prey. His gaze focuses on between your legs, his hangs grabbing at your thighs and spreading them apart. Lewdly, he cups your mound and you automatically buck your hips upwards, making him smirk at your neediness. Grinding the heel of his palm against your clothed pussy, you want to hide your face in embarrassment when you see the wet patch forming on your leggings.

“You’re going to be so much hornier now that you’re pregnant,” He breathes, looking at the wet spot between your legs as if he’s entranced. Suddenly, he strikes you; palm slapping against your clothed pussy while his other hand holds your legs apart. You gasp, sparks of pleasure flaring up inside you as he repeatedly slaps your clothed cunt.

“Tell me, baby omega. Who knocked you up?”

“Y-You did!” You cry out desperately, trying to clamber upwards to grab at his shoulders except he easily pins you back down. His head dips down too, straight between your legs till he’s face to face with your pussy. And you wish to God your leggings and panties weren’t in the way, but Steve doesn’t seem to care. His tongue peaks out past his pink lips, licking a stripe up your covered cunt, and you convulse, “Oh fuck!”

“Tell me how you got knocked up, baby.” Steve speaks against your pussy, and you can feel his hot breath through the thin material of your leggings. He lets out a hum before he takes the material between his lips, sucking at the wet spot and making you throb down there, “Tell me how I filled up your little baby cunt and fucked my baby into you.”

You hesitate, and earn a harsh slap to your ass that has you hissing in pain. “Say it!”

“Y-You filled up my baby cunt and knocked me up!” You cry out desperately, rubbing your pussy against his face as he continues to suck your leggings, his nose grazing against your covered folds and making you want him so badly, it hurts. “Daddy – ah! – y-you fucked your baby into me, okay? P-Please!”

It’s insane how quickly he renders you to be delirious, but after weeks of not being intimate with him, it’s like this is exactly what you need. The depravity, the filth, the fear that just about anyone could walk in at any moment. And it’s also the pride you see in his face – alpha is proud of you for getting pregnant, and that just makes you want him even more.

“You’re just a tiny little baby,” Steve sits back up, looking down at you as if you’re some ravishing creature and not just a desperate omega practically humping against him, face contorted in need for her alpha. “How’re you growing my baby inside of you, when you’re a little fucking baby yourself, huh? Daddy’s little baby.”

He peels your leggings off, leaving you in just your panties in the changing rooms where anyone could walk in at any moment. Pressing kisses against your inner thighs, getting closer and closer to your core, and you’re wiggling underneath him, thrusting up into air because you’re so needy for him.

“I’m gonna take such good care of you, baby.” He breathes, sinking down to his knees on the side of the bench and grabbing your calves to pull you to the edge of it. His face between your thighs now, you can feel his hot breath against your panty-covered core. “Gonna keep you so happy. My little wife… I’ll give you everything you deserve.”

Your heart lurches at the word “wife.” He’s never referred to you as that before, but you don’t have the time to mull upon it when Steve’s teeth enclose around your wet panties, pulling them and letting the elastic stretch before he lets go and it snaps back against your pussy, making you whimper softly. He grins, taking the sodden fabric into his mouth again, this time sucking all your slick from the material while your eyes pop at the sight, pussy clenching around air.

“I love you, baby. You’ve made me so happy today. I want to make you happy too.” His voice is dripping with sweetness – and usually you’d be questioning: is he being sincere? Does he mean it? Should I trust him? But just hearing him say it, hearing him say “I love you,” it’s like it makes you stop thinking straight, makes you not want to question him, makes you want to believe him because what do you truly have left if you don’t believe him?

And maybe – just maybe – he does mean it.

“The mother of my child,” Steve coos, blowing cool air on your hot core, and your slick is dripping down to pool underneath you on the bench as he continues to finger the material of your panties, “Aren’t you happy that you’re pregnant, baby? Aren’t you happy that you made daddy so proud?”

You bite your lip, “H-Honestly, I’m scared– ah! – I’m too young, we’re both too young. There’re so many things we have to think about and consider, and– oh! Oh my God!”

Steve chooses that moment to rip your panties in half and dip his head down, pushing back the hood of your clit and encasing the throbbing button between his lips. He sucks down hard, and you automatically raise your hips to grind up against his face, leaving it glistening with streaks of your wetness. His hand lands an open-palmed slap against your bare pussy, the sound so lewd and wet as it echoes across the changing room.

“I asked you if you’re happy for making me proud.”

You gulp, hands reaching down to grab at his blonde tufts – something you’d been itching to do all day. Slowly, you nod your head. “Y-Yeah.” You whisper, “A-Always wanna make you proud.”

“Good girl. That’s what I thought.” He goes back to your clit, spitting down on it. His saliva pools around your button and he uses his thumb to spread it, circling and rubbing it around and around till you can’t take the intensity, and hump up against his hand. “I already told you not to think about anything else, except being a mommy and making me proud.”

Steve lifts your thighs up and props them over his shoulders, and your ankles automatically lock around him, encasing his head between your legs so he’s face to face with your core. And that’s when you feel his tongue, hard and pointed, flick against your clit, once, twice, three times till you’re crying out his name, your thighs already thrashing except his tight grip keeps them pinned to his shoulders.

“Look at your little button, all swollen up and cute.” Steve spits once more, his saliva trailing down your mound to pool around your clit once more. “You missed having your daddy make you feel good, didn’t you?”

“I…I, uh – Ow!” You gasp when he slaps your ass, the sound resonating across the room and you wonder why no one has walked in yet.

“I wasn’t asking you; I was asking her.” Steve licks his lips, looking straight at your glistening folds and using his pointed finger to swipe up and down your wetness. “Look at your little baby pussy, she’s crying because she’s so happy that daddy’s here to take care of her again.” And that’s all it takes for him to bury his face in your wetness once more, enveloping your sensitive folds between his lips and suctioning harshly.

“Mm, fuck, daddy!” You whimper softly, and he reaches up to squeeze your breast possessively.

Licking and sucking his way back up to your clit, his teeth graze against your swollen bundle of nerves, making you throb like crazy as the sparks begin to build up. “So fuckin’ puffy, just for daddy, huh?” He questions, and you gasp out in agreement, your movements getting needier and more desperate as you begin to hump into his face in earnest, your fists tightening around his hair as you practically smear your pussy over his face, feeling his tongue, his teeth, his lips, his nose, even the light stubble he’s starting to grow out – all of it creating delicious friction against you.

Your body is rocked by so many different sensations: he’s practically making out with your pussy as his mouth suctions over it, lapping at your wetness like he’s starved. His tongue, so hard and pointed, fucks into your hole, his nose grazing against your clit before he licks a flat stripe up from your fuckhole up your slit, ending with a hearty suck up on your clit before biting down on the bundle of nerves not so lightly.

“That’s right, baby. My horny fuckin’ little omega, rub your baby cunt on daddy’s face, use me to make yourself cum. Fuck! I said rub yourself on my fucking face! Harder, before I change my mind.” Steve’s teetering between nice and mean, and the heady mix of both makes you scream out and clutch his hair harder, his voice muffled and sending vibrations against your clit. “Hump on daddy’s face, baby, c’mon. Make yourself feel good, show daddy how much you missed me.”

Your orgasm is doubly intense, and for the second time in your life, your juices squirt out, streaming all over Steve’s face and coating him in your slick. And, like a man starved, he wastes no time in swiping his cheek and sucking his finger, his eyes training on your pulsating pussy as you clench and release, over and over again, thighs tightening around his face as you cry out, “Oh! Oh my, d-daddy!”

“Good baby,” He praises you, prying your legs off his shoulders, “Doesn’t it feel so good to just switch off and let your daddy do all the thinking?”

Hands and legs limp like jelly and every thought and worry slowly leaving your mind, you manage to sniffle out a soft yet ashamedly honest, “Y-Yeah.”

You’re completely limp in his arms as he picks you up by the waist, sitting down on the bench and setting you down on his lap, your back against his chest. But not before undoing his fly and pulling his dick out. It looks angry and red and somehow bigger than ever – as if it’s about to explode. You gulp – it’s been so long since he’s been inside you. Would he still fit?

Like a steel rod, his cock pokes out from between his legs, resting pretty between your own thighs that are parted by his hands. Your wetness has spread all the way from your folds to down your legs, and it’s mildly embarrassing just how needy you are for him at this moment. So needy, in fact, that you surprise yourself – your hands grabbing at his dick as if the omega inside you just can’t help it.

“Fuck,” Steve hisses, covering your hand with his own, “Look at your tiny baby hands on my daddy dick.” His tongue is lapping and sucking at his mark on your neck – his favourite spot – but his eyes are locked on the scene in front of him – you palming his dick almost hesitantly, as if you’re scared of it yet want it badly at the same time – which you do.

You swallow harshly, “P-Please.”

“Please what, sweet girl?”

You duck your head, too shy to voice your desire but his hand grips your chin and makes you look up, twisting your head back slightly so he can look into your eyes.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” Steve says softly, beguilingly with blue eyes sparkling, “I already told you I’ll give you whatever you want – you just have to tell me.”

You surge upwards to kiss him, suddenly remembering how he’d rejected your kisses the last time the two of you had had sex. But this time, he captures your lips with his, ravenously making out with you and his tongue dominates yours, licking up every crevice of your mouth like it’s his job to kiss you. Till you can’t breathe and yet you still don’t want to pull away, and it’s him who finally does.

“Or we could just sit here, and I could feel you.” Steve muses, hand gliding his dick back and forth against the soft skin of your thighs before slapping it against your pussy. You gasp and convulse, and he only chuckles as he repeats the action, and you can’t help but close your legs around his dick, as if forcing him to put it inside you.

“Alpha please!” You mewl softly.

“I guess your pregnancy hormones have made you even needier now, huh omega?” He snickers, using his hand to guide yours up and down his dick, making you jack him off. And you can feel every ridge, every vein of his thick dick as it pulses under your hand. And the omega inside you is feral, you want him so badly it’s unreal. All these weeks of no intimacy have you starved in a different way – because being mated to him means always wanting him, always yearning for him, and having no willpower against his charms.

It's with burning cheeks and tears of need welling in your eyes that you utter: “P-Please, alpha! N-Need you inside me, your knot… So bad. So bad!”

“Why? You’re already knocked up.” He’s tracing the tip of his dick against your clit, holding you down as you thrash on his lap. And you don’t understand his willpower – did he not want you as badly as you wanted him? But he continues to slap and stroke his dick against your folds, coating his length in your cream, grabbing you by the hips and grazing you on top of it, physically grinding you against his hard dick yet not putting it inside you.

“Aww, poor baby. Look at your cute little baby cunt, all drippy and leaking all over daddy. You still want my dick, baby? Still want my knot even if you’re already pregnant?”

“Yes! Yes, please!” You want to tell him not to tease you, but you know that he’s your alpha and you can’t really tell him what to do. You know you’re already submissive by nature but in his arms right now, you feel like you’re completely at his mercy, like you’d do anything for him. “N-Need you, daddy. So bad. Just… Just gotta feel you inside… P-Please!”

Steve swears, grabbing the base of his dick and lining it up against your leaking pussy. But he has to lift you up by the hips and slam you back down to get his fat, bulbous tip to finally breach your tiny hole. And oh my God – was it possible that he felt even bigger than ever before? He’s barely halfway inside you and you feel stuffed to the brim already, slippery walls convulsing and crying around his fat cock as it penetrates into you.

“What a tight fuckin’ baby cunt,” Steve grits out, squeezing your tits till it hurts, “God, fuck! Never had a pussy this tight before, baby. It’s like you were made for me.”

He’s so big, it almost feels like it’s the first time – how could you ever have gotten used to such a huge dick? And he’s big everywhere: his muscular legs which hold your entire body weight, his thick arms that hold your thrashing limbs at bay. All six foot six inches of him dwarf you completely. You feel so light, so fragile, so tiny on top of him, his dick slowly going deeper and deeper inside of you, practically ripping you in two.

“S-So big, daddy…” You moan, because it hurts yet it hurts so good, and you love the delicious friction you feel.

“Can’t even go all the way inside you, baby.” Steve say softly, as if he himself is surprised by his own girth and by how small you are. “Fuck, you’re tinier than I remember. Guess I’m too big for you. Your cute little baby cunt can’t take me in, omega.”

“Please! F-Force it in.” Something carnal takes over you then, and you’re surprised by your own words; they sound so desperate, so lust-ridden and unabashed – like you’d die if he isn’t fully inside you.

And Steve growls, pushing out of you and picking you up – and he only needs one arm to do it – before forcibly turning you around so that you’re chest to chest with him. He forces you back down on his dick, and it’s so hard and imposing as it pierces into you, and you can’t help but clamber closer to Steve, both of you gasping against each other’s lips when he finally fills you up till the hilt, and the pain is so deliciously excruciating, you feel like you’ll break in half.

“I think I may have broke your pussy, baby.” He whispers, as you marvel at how much of a tight fit it is, his dick so snugly inside you, stretching out your walls as far as they’ll go around his fat girth. You truly do feel broken, but in the best way, and you wrap your arms around his neck, wanting to be closer.

“D-Don’t care, alpha.” You don’t know what’s suddenly come over you, maybe it’s the fact that he told you he loves you, maybe it’s because you haven’t had sex with him for weeks, maybe it’s because you’ve finally told him you’re pregnant and he’s proud of you, he’s promised to take care of you. Or maybe it’s something else altogether, but your desire for him has never been this high, this intense. Even Steve looks surprised.

Slowly, he starts bouncing you up and down on his dick. And you don’t have to do any work, just sit there and let him manoeuvre you, let him control your movements like a puppeteer, like how he controls every other aspect of your life. And maybe it’s time to admit that you like it that way, maybe it’s time to stop fighting with the omega inside you. Maybe this, here with him, is where you belong.

“You like me splitting you open like this, don’t you?” He whispers against your lips, capturing them in a searing kiss that has you grabbing his face and pulling him closer. Wanting to touch him and smell him and feel him and hold him and everything in between. His dick is hitting that special spot inside of you, making you cry out with every thrust, not caring that you’re being loud and this is a public place and anyone could walk in.

“I love you so much, baby.” And there it is again, those three words once again, penetrating into your heart and tattooing themselves upon it. His hand suddenly grabs yours, holding it close and pressing kisses all over your palm and fingers – and you’re reminded of the night where you’d begged him not to leave you, and how you’d done the same thing.

“I’m never letting you go, omega.” Steve speaks between kisses, all the while his hips are a blur as they move up and down, thrusting inside you like he wants to keep the two of you connected forever. “I’m gonna make you my housewife, keep you locked up and safe so no one can ever hurt you or my baby. I’m gonna take care of you, both of you.”

And you’re nodding feverishly, whispering “okay” over and over again, grinding down to meet his thrusts, biting your lip in bliss when his hand snakes down to where you two meet, his fingers deftly rubbing your clit, heightening your pleasure as his cock continues to tear you in half.

“My omega, all mine,” He growls, balls smacking against your skin as he fucks into you, your poor fuckhole so used and abused yet you don’t even care as you drip all over him, the pleasure growing steadily inside you, coils tightening as he fucks you like only he ever could. “Won’t let anyone else touch you, speak to you, even look at you anymore. You’re my property – my little wife knocked up with my kid. Won’t let anything come between us, not again.”

Through your delirium, you manage to lock eyes with him, clutching at him desperately, and your words come out so softly, and you feel so small when you ask him, “Y-Y-You promise?”

He stalls for a second, just a second, before his thrusts resume, hitting deeper if that’s even possible. He cups your face with his warm hand, and you can smell his heady, musky scent that you’re so addicted to. His eyes sparkle earnestly, like twin blue oceans that you could drown in except the experience would be pleasant. He leans close to you, so close; “I promise, omega.”

You cum so hard, you feel like you’re going to pass out, your walls constricting around his dick, squeezing it so hard while he continues to thrust up into you. You can feel your cream leaking down his dick, staining his uniform but it’s like you can’t stop squirting around him, your slick squeezing out of your worn-out pussy as it pulsates around his hard cock.

“Steve, oh my God, oh my God, fuck!” You cry out in complete abandon, clutching onto his biceps, your nails digging through the material of his jersey.

“That’s right baby, cum on daddy’s dick like the good little girl you are,” He coaxes you, rubbing your bare back almost soothingly, while his fat dick continues to pierce in and out of you at an inhumane pace – as if he’s savouring being inside you, as if he never wants to stop. “Squeeze my fucking dick, omega. Fuck, I’m gonna keep you pregnant forever, baby. Tell me you want that; tell me you want all my fucking babies.”

“W-Want your babies!” You cry out obediently, your body jelly on top of his, limbs twitching as the rushes of pleasure flush through your body. He’s using you like a fuckdoll now, an iron grip on your hips as he pounds into you as if he can’t get enough. His mouth latches onto your mark, licking and sucking possessively, and you think you might pass out from the pleasure – and he still wouldn’t stop.

You feel his dick twitch inside you, and he’s still fucking you through his own release, his seed so hot as it pours into you. Spurting hot cum, coating your insides like he’s trying to brand you, and he grips firmly onto your hair, pulling your face to his and kissing you roughly. “I love you, baby.” He whispers soft as a feather against your lips, and you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of hearing him say it, as you grind down, his thick ropes of cum mingling with your own slick, and he’s still pumping out more. As if his load is so heavy and he won’t stop until you’re completely filled up.

“Marry me.”

For the second time today, he renders you completely speechless. Third time, if you count your reaction to his book of sketches. Cupping both your cheeks and making you look at him and only him, and you don’t know what to think. First ‘I love you’ and now ‘marry me’? The alarm bells are chiming softly in the rational part of your mind – because isn’t all of this happening too fast, too suddenly, too soon?

“Marry me, omega.” Steve repeats, “Let me take you home. To Brooklyn. I’ll take care of you, give you a real home, I’ll make you so happy. And you can leave this place behind.”

Leave it behind? What did he mean by that? Your degree? There’re so many questions on your mind: Is he being serious? Does he mean it? Why is all of this coming out now? Should you believe him, believe his promises – when your own trust in him has come back to slap you in the face multiple times in the past? And what if this is all some cruel practical joke? What about your education, your scholarship? What about your mother? What about… what about… what about–

But it’s like your mind is working in overdrive to forcibly push all those thoughts out, and replace them with how he’d told you he loved you. How he’d apologised to you last night. All the sketches he made of you – those weren’t a joke, were they? They couldn’t be.

Time to surrender, the omega inside of you is beguiling as ever; time to be happy…

“Okay.” You whisper.

He breaks into a smile, like he knows you could never say no to him, and presses kisses all over your face.

There’s a quiet calm as he picks you up, taking you to the nearby bathroom and helping you clean up. You thought your head would be a screaming mess of emotions, but your thoughts are eerily quiet as you let him clean and redress you. Maybe this was all meant to be, and this is where you belonged. Maybe he meant it this time – maybe he’d take care of you and keep you happy forever. And you have the baby to think about too – maybe this was best for the baby.

He carries you back out of the bathroom, only setting you down on your feet when he’s opening the exit doors to get back out onto the field. And even then, he holds your hand tightly – so tightly, as if you’re a kite that might fly away.

Outside, everyone is still celebrating – almost as if the two of you never left. You can see Sam and the rest of the football team popping open cans of beer and pouring it all down their fronts, or shaking hands with different people, or kissing their own girlfriends. Instinctively, Steve’s grip on your hand tightens even more.

“Hey, Cap! We’re taking a team picture with the trophy. C’mon!” One of his teammates calls out before the whole team begins to assemble themselves into haphazard rows while the professional photographer tries to guide them.

You feel Steve hesitating before letting go of you, grabbing your shoulders instead.

“Don’t move, omega. I’ll be right back.”

You nod, smiling softly, “Okay, Steve. I’m right here.”

It’s like he’s searching your face for something, and you wish to God you knew what because you’d show it to him in a heartbeat. But then his face softens, he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. And then he jogs away, joining his friends and being greeted with hoots and cheers and high-fives and chants of his name. He looks like a king on top of his world, standing up front and centre. Someone thrusts the gigantic trophy in his hand, and he holds it up proudly, smiling cockily at the camera.

You take it all in, feeling a mix of emotions ranging from pride for him as well as a certain sense of imposter syndrome. He’s a king and you’re an ant – but he loves you. He told you so, he told you so, he told you so–

“HEY!”

The repeated calling of your name doesn’t register to you until it’s right up against your ear, and you feel someone grip your wrist roughly, tugging you back. You turn around in alarm, mouth dropping open when you see who it is.

“Peter! What are you doing here?”

Peter looks dishevelled, out of breath as if he’s been running around all day. His spiky hair is longer than how you remember it, with brown locks tumbling down his forehead. His cheeks are flushed and eyes bright, the remnants of his fading black eye very apparent on his face. And his hold on your wrist is tighter than ever – just like how Steve’s grip was earlier.

Heart pounding, you glance back at Steve – but he’s still busy hoisting the trophy high in the air, posing for pictures and shaking hands with different people.

“Went to your dorm – you weren’t there.” Peter huffs, trying to catch his breath as quickly as he can. “Someone said you might be here – that the entire college was here. And they weren’t wrong – I’ve been looking for you in the crowd for ages. I figured this would be the best way, since he’d be too busy playing to notice anything.”

Peter casts a quick glance at Steve too, before pulling you further away. When he doesn’t stop, you tug back.

“What’re you doing? We can’t… I can’t be speaking to you, he’ll–”

“Come on!” Peter cuts you off, an almost desperate sense of urgency in his tone as he keeps glancing back at Steve. There’s a certain panic to his demeanour, as if he’s in a hurry. “Look, this is the perfect opportunity – he’s distracted, we can just slip out and –”

“Wait, Peter–”

“No, I’m not going to wait and neither are you!” Peter hisses, yanking your arm and pulling you further and further away, off the side of the field and leading to the stairs where a sizeable crowd of people is still mingling.

“Look, I spent a whole month feeling sorry for myself for getting beaten up… For letting him get the best of me. And I barely spared a second to think of you and what you must’ve been going through.” Peter’s talking rapidly, and he never stops moving, never stops tugging you but he does keep looking over his shoulder in Steve’s direction, his palm clammy as he holds on to your wrist. “But then you called, and you sounded distressed. I knew he wasn’t treating you right, I knew I had to do something.”

You swallow harshly, taking another look back at Steve – now his teammates have hoisted him onto their shoulders again, and he’s still smiling for pictures. A million thoughts race through your head, “Peter, I have to get back, he’s gonna–”

But it’s like Peter doesn’t hear you at all, as he determinedly pulls you up the stairs behind him and towards the exit. And you do want to speak to him, of course you do! You haven’t spoken to him for more than a month, and there’s so many things you want to ask him. But, but, but…

“I’m so fucking stupid for not doing something sooner. You were my girlfriend… You are my girlfriend and I should’ve taken care of you.”

You shake your head rapidly, “Peter, please listen! I don’t want to… I don’t think this is a good id–”

“You’re never gonna have to see that sick sonofabitch again, I promise you that much. I’m doing what I should have done that day I showed up at your dorm – take you away from him.”

“Peter, no, I–”

But either it’s the roar of the people around you or his own determination, but he doesn’t seem to hear your pleas. Everything’s happening too fast, the thoughts racing around in your head and the panic bubbling in your chest. Peter is good, you know this – and you know he means well. And yet…

You feel your mark prickle hotly, and you whip around in time to see Steve’s head snap in your direction. Your eyes lock with his for one single split second, and your mark throbs in pain and you feel a certain unrest in your bond, and it feels like you can’t breathe.

The hurt that flashes through Steve’s eyes is the last thing you see before you’re yanked out the exit and swallowed up by the crowd.

Well. If you managed to make it to the end of this chapter, thank you! I really hope you enjoyed. Guys, I poured my life and soul into this... and I hope I did this chapter justice. Please, PLEASE PLEASE reblog! And give me feedback. That’s what keeps me going honestly. I would love to hear what you think. In fact, i’m nervous to know what you think! And what should we expect for the next part? All I’m gonna say is... Steve’s omega has been taken from him, if he was mean before, it’s nothing compared to what he’ll be now. ALRIGHT BYE. and thank you for all your support! Love you guys!

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Jake Seresin And The Unfortunate Hat Situation

jake seresin x fem!reader 3k words

summary: You’re visiting Jake’s family in Texas for the first time and so far, it’s been going well. Just that Jake may have forgotten to mention the hat rule. 

another cowboy fic because i fucking can

disclaimer: strong allusions to smut. im not kidding. this is basically straight up dirty talk all the way through

a/n: i’m warning you once about all the inaccuracies in here and thats it. read at your own risk. i have literally no clue whatsoever about texas and/or cowboys and did not have it in me to research cowboy history for hours on end, like- i tried, okay? i really did try. i know facts about cowboy hats now that i never felt the need to know (though “dont sleep with your cowboy hat on”, um... yeah? thanks? i totally would have done that otherwise) but i still do not have the information to back this shit up lmao

top gun masterlist

(yes i did have to use an everybody wants some gif. during the past week ive rewatched this film more times than i can count and i will take every opportunity i get to talk about it)

“Enlighten me”, you chuckled, spreading your arms, a bottle of beer in your right hand. “Why are none of the cowboys wearing cowboy hats? Isn’t that kind of their thing?”

You were visiting Texas for the first time - a week off of work, away from the Navy and the Dagger Squad for a bit, to meet Jake’s friends and family back home. You’d talked to most every one of them over the phone whenever he had found the time to call, but you’d never actually met them in person before this. So it had been an adventure from the start: getting on a plane in San Diego to take you to Texas where Jake had grown up, being picked up at the airport by his mother, driving two hours to the farm they owned (”You grew up on a farm?”, you’d asked when he’d told you, wheezing at the mental image of teenage Jake herding sheep), meeting his dad, being surprised by both his sisters, getting to see his childhood bedroom. 

And then, to top it off: the sound of his alarm at the crack of dawn this morning to go teach you how to ride a horse. 

Needless to say that you’d been buzzing with nervous energy for the past few days. Not that you weren’t happy - it was just all a bit much at once. 

After lunch he’d taken you into the city and you’d gone shopping for some real cowboy boots. He’d planned to take you to a bar in the evening, to introduce you to some friends. After all you only had a week here and neither of you felt like missing out on something. 

When you’d wanted to try cowboy hats in the store too, Jake had snatched them from you and grabbed your hands, pulling you close to him, telling you that you’d get one when you’d become a real cowgirl. Since you doubted that would ever happen, you’d pouted and tried to convince him with kisses and, when that hadn’t worked, half-hearted threats, but he wouldn’t be persuaded even the slightest. He’d only looked down at you with raised eyebrows until you’d caved and satisfied yourself with cursing under your breath. 

So here you were: Cowboy boots, jeans shorts and a button-up and no cowboy hat in sight. 

Actually, there was one in sight. Jake was wearing his, in all his Texan glory, laughing with some of his friends at the bar. The thing was, he was the only guy wearing his hat. There were some cowboys strutting about with them on their heads, but most of them didn’t have one - hat hair, yes, but no hat. Hence your initial question: “Why are none of the cowboys wearing cowboy hats?” 

“Shit, Jake didn’t tell you?”, Kendra - one of Jake’s only female friends here, who’d immediately decided she liked you and pulled you to one of the tables for some girl talk - let out a laugh. “No wonder it’s still on his head. We were getting worried already.” 

It was pretty clear to everyone that you weren’t from around here, so you saw no reason to hide your confusion.

“Now you’ve lost me entirely. What?”, you asked, masking your frown with a laugh. You’d been here for hardly two days and you didn’t think you’d felt as embarrassed ever before. You knew about literally nothing. At least you’d done somewhat well at horseback riding, which could’ve been because of Jake’s arms around you and his hands over yours as you - he - held the reins, but either way you were proud of yourself for not falling off and landing on your ass. 

“It’s like this: Ladies didn’t wear hats for a really long time. Cowboys wore the hats. So when you saw a lady with a cowboy hat on - that was her man’s. A sign that she belonged to him. Property shit and all.” She waved it off as if dismissing the concept. “Changed over the past few decades, of course. Better that way too. Ladies can wear whatever they want now. But the thought kind of stuck. You see a guy without a hat, he’s probably taken. You see a girl with a hat, that’s probably her man’s. And before you ever steal a hat, you should know the hat rule.” 

You raised your eyebrows. Your stomach did weird little flips as she talked. Jake hadn’t explained any of this to you. 

“The hat rule?”, you asked. Kendra grinned and leaned in, pretending to let out some big secret. 

“You wear the hat”, she said and paused for a second for dramatic effect, “You wear the cowboy.” 

You breathed out. 

“Oh.” 

Oh my ass, you thought. 

Jake hadn’t let you buy your own hat for a reason. And then he’d gone ahead and not given you that reason. What the actual fuck. 

You would’ve loved to wear his hat. You would’ve loved the thought of him claiming you like that, letting you wear his hat, showing everyone that yeah, you were Jake Seresin’s girl. But no. He’d left you completely in the dark, hadn’t let a single word slip. And he was still wearing that goddamn hat himself. 

Like a single fucking guy, not a man in a loving relationship.

Somehow, now that you knew, you were more annoyed by the fact that he was wearing it than that he just hadn’t told you at all. God, he could’ve left it at home. He could’ve taken it off. He could’ve just put it on your head without telling you why if he didn’t want to. 

And right there, that was the part you just didn’t understand. Why hadn’t he told you? He should have known you well enough by now to realise that you would absolutely adore wearing that hat. Not only because you wanted to wear a hat (which you did) but also because you wanted to wear his hat (which you did even more). After all, it wasn’t only him claiming you - it was you claiming him as well. And as horrible as the history of that hat rule was, in this present day you felt like it would only have been fair of him to tell you. You wanted to have that chance of showing him off. Of him showing you off, which he did so happily back in San Diego. 

“Hey”, Kendra said, her expression a bit more serious as she put a hand to your arm and pulled you from your thoughts. “I’m sure Jake didn’t mean to hurt you. He may seem like a bastard, but he’s actually a real sweetheart.” 

You snorted at her, nodding along. 

“He is”, you agreed. “Which is kind of why it hurts even more. I don’t get why he wouldn’t just tell me. It’s not like he’s ever been scared I’d say no to him or something.”

Kendra smiled and squeezed your arm reassuringly. 

“Try not to worry about it too much. Just ask him when you get home later, yeah? Communication is key.” Her smile turned into a grin. She winked at you. “And hey, you can always wear my hat if you’d like.” 

You forced yourself to smile as well as you took a sip of your beer. “If I actually were single, I’d definitely take you up on that offer, but I’m not, and I don’t think Jake would like it much.” 

Her grin only deepened. She had dimples, you realised, and the hat on her head matched her eye colour. You were glad to have her here with you. She was someone you were sure you could become good friends with over time. 

“That makes it even better”, she said conspicuously. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her ankles over the edge of the table as she tipped her hat back. “He never told you about the hats. You don’t know anything in his eyes, honey. Use it against him.” 

There was a twinkle in her gaze that told you she was looking for nothing short of mischief and you had the distinct feeling that she’d been the ‘bad influence’ on Jake in high school that he’d talked about so often. She seemed like a troublemaker. But she also seemed genuine. And she was right - in Jake’s eyes, you were getting to know one of his friends, talking about some girly stuff (which he probably assumed was himself), having a nice night. Not learning about cowboy customs that he’d just so forgotten to mention. 

Jake usually didn’t get jealous. He trusted you the same way you trusted him. But he got possessive nonetheless - always with a hand on your back when you were talking to someone he thought was flirting with you, kissing you at the most inappropriate times, making sure that everyone knew you were his. Now he’d had the goddamn chance and hadn’t taken it. And you didn’t fucking know why. 

But you were damn determined to find out. 

Kendra slid the hat off her head and offered it to you. You took one deep breath before you reached for it. 

You let your fingertips skip over the rim for a moment. Were you really about to do this? Then you put it on your head. 

Alright. If Jake wasn’t going to tell you about the way this worked on his own accord, you’d make him tell you. 

Kendra emptied her beer and you followed suit before the both of you got up. She grabbed both bottles in one hand, turning to you to send you another of those winks. 

“I’ll bring these back to the bar and get us new ones. The dancefloor’s all yours.” 

With a nervous smile, you adjusted your newly aqcuired hat and made your way onto the dancefloor. There was soft music playing in the background - country, of course, loud but not loud enough to disturb conversation. It wasn’t late enough for that just yet. Which was honestly a relief, since you had zero clue whatsoever about line dancing or whatever it was they did down here. This way there were only a few couples twirling each other back and forth and some people moving to the beat all on their own. You let out a breath and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to really feel the music: the guitar, the steady drums, the vocals. 

Slowly, you started swaying - from one side to the other, turning, twirling, one step, then the next, heels here, toes there. A grin was making its way onto your face. The music grew, not as much in volume as in pace, and you didn’t know just when you had started to forget about everything except your movements (like the people watching, for example), but then the song changed and you gasped as you realised you knew it. Eyes fluttering open, hands coming together to clap, lips twisting into an actual laugh as you sang along, catching Kendra’s gaze and waving her over. 

She joined you with a laugh, grabbed your hand to twirl you around, and god, her voice was heavenly. For just a split second you wondered how Jake hadn’t ended up falling for her. You certainly would have. 

And speaking - more like thinking, but whatever - of the devil, you felt an all too familiar hand on your shoulder. You turned at the same time that Kendra let go of you, allowing you to admire your boyfriend in all his furious glory. 

Not that he actually looked furious. Not to anyone but you, not with that facade he wore whenever anyone got under his skin. But you, well... You’d been with him long enough to understand that twitch of his jaw, that tension in his shoulders, that flicker in his eyes. And yet - the cowboy hat still sat on his head. 

“I got it from here, Kendra”, he said, eyes fixed on yours, as you held your breath. She snorted, but still made to move away, muttering something under her breath that you didn’t catch. Then Jake spoke again. “Take your hat, Kendra.” 

He grabbed it from where it rested on your head and threw it at her without looking away from you. She sucked in a breath. 

“If you throw my hat again, I’ll kick your ass, Seresin”, she said and you could tell that even though they were friends, she wasn’t kidding. Shit, the people here were really fucking serious about their hats. Another reason why you were mad at Jake for not telling you about any of it. 

“Next time, don’t set it on my girl’s head”, he growled - growled, really, you didn’t know what else to call it. She scoffed and walked off. 

“How could she know I was your girl?”, you whispered, challenging him even though he already looked like you’d crossed some line that he’d drawn without telling you. “How could anyone?” 

For a few moments, he kept quiet. You defiantly stared up at him. Should he think whatever he fucking wanted to, this was entirely his fault. 

Then something changed in his expression. 

“You found out about the hat rule”, he said, “And the first thing you did was go and put on somebody else’s.” 

“Well if my boyfriend doesn’t want to have me wear his hat-” 

You couldn’t react as quickly as Jake had gripped you by the waist and pulled you close to him, forcing you to tip your head back to keep looking at him. He was, in fact, so close now that you could just kiss him and honestly, you were tempted. Just as tempted as you’d been when he’d come out of the bathroom looking like that, just as tempted as you’d been when you’d left the house, just as tempted as you’d been in his truck. But you were also stubborn. And you had good reasons not to kiss him right now (even though they were getting harder and harder to remember by the second).

“Darling, I’d go wild for you with my hat on.” 

You swallowed. Hard. 

“So why am I not wearing it?”, you asked through gritted teeth. You couldn’t quite believe just how easily this whole situation was getting under your skin. But it seriously hurt your ego - and not just that. The fact that Jake hadn’t told you about something so important in his hometown, some, as ridiculous as it may be, piece of culture, something that would so clearly show everyone that you were dating him, really, actually, seriously dating him, stung more than you wanted to admit. It was like someone had asked him outright if he was taken and he’d said no. 

“‘Cause I told you to wait”, he drawled, “Didn’t I? Wait ‘til you’re a real cowgirl.” 

Curiosity and frustration were mixing in your stomach, a weird, dangerous combo. You grabbed for his collar, pulling on it just a bit too hard - nothing he couldn’t stand his ground against. You were feeling insulted by all this and you found that you should let him know. 

“What’s a girl like me gotta do to become one in your eyes, hm, Hangman?” 

Hangman. You only called him that when you meant business. It was like a mother using her child’s full name whenever it got in serious trouble. Jake stiffened, fingers digging into your hips so firmly that you were sure you’d be able to see the marks in the mirror later on. You’d hit a nerve. Always did when you called him by his callsign. No more Jake, no more baby, none of that. 

“Behave”, he said, eyes fixed on yours, that one word carrying so much more meaning. You didn’t care. For once, you really didn’t fucking care. You wanted him riled up, wanted him furious, wanted him right at this breaking point. So you smiled.  

“Like a dog?” 

He’d smashed his lips on yours before you could react. 

All teeth and tongue, decisive, possessive, angry. You didn’t want to give in as quickly as you did. But he hardly left you a choice - he was everywhere, arms wrapped so tightly around you, chest pressed so firmly against yours, not giving you the option to escape, to duck away, to tease him any further. So instead of doing that, instead of making him run after you more, you let him have the control. All of it. Instead of turning, instead of making him chase you, you pulled him close to you by his collar with all the force you could manage, pulled him into you, pulled him with you as you stumbled backwards from the sudden change of weight, put your entire trust in him to keep you upright. You couldn’t breathe. You didn’t want to if that meant letting go. 

Not with how much emotion you were putting into this fucking kiss. 

Jake was the one to break away first. Pupils blown, cheeks reddened (you were sure you looked even worse), panting. You loosened your grip on his collar and ran a hand through your hair instead. 

Somewhere in the back of your head, you remembered that you were still in a bar, still in the middle of the dancefloor, still under the watchful eyes of his friends. A different part was screaming at you to fuck it and fuck him right here, right now. 

“Shit”, he breathed, resting his forehead against yours. His hat let a shadow fall over both your faces. “You’re gon’ be the death of me someday.” 

“Hopefully not too soon”, you teased, a smile playing on your lips as he pulled back just a bit. “I still gotta find out how to become a cowgirl after all.” 

The corner of his mouth quirked up as well. He raised his eyebrows, examining you for a second. 

“You really wanna know, sweetheart?” 

You let out a laugh. “Fuck yeah.” 

He leaned in close, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, and you had to swallow. This felt intimate, somehow. 

“You’re gon’ be a cowgirl once you rode your cowboy.” 

Your breath caught in your throat. He pulled back with a grin. Smug, you realised. He was so fucking proud of himself for this - for having caught you off guard like that. You couldn’t let him win that easily. Not with that already inflated ego. 

“All of this just to get me into your bed?”, you chuckled. “Damn, Seresin. Lotta work for no reason, hm? I’m in it at the end of every day anyway.” 

He shrugged - as best as he could with his hands still on your waist. 

“What can I say? I aim to please.” 

You couldn’t help but grin too. The angry, sizzling tension had dissolved into something much more pleasant, much more dizzying. Something that set your skin ablaze and your mind on fire. You grabbed one of his hands from your waist and intertwined your fingers with his. 

“Want to get out of here?”, you asked. He leaned in and kissed you with a smile - slow and steady and sensual, wholly different from before. 

When he pulled back, you were breathless again. 

“Always.” 

[luneengene2]

The Emperor's Choice

• Pairings : emperor!leehan x fem!reader

• Synopsis : (Empire AU) Your father intends to matchmake your sister with the young Emperor who was just crowned a few months ago. Oh of course your father chose your older sister, because your older sister is his legitimate daughter, while you? You are just the Illegitimate child of his deceased former concubine, aka your mother. After all, there was no way an Emperor would choose an illegitimate daughter? He would want the best Empress Consort for his empire. But, what would happen if the young emperor chose you to be his future empress? Something you never expected.

• Words Count : 4000+

• Warnings : Ft IVE Wonyoung, ZEROBASEONE Gunwook, The practice of concubinage, Violence of a father, injustice in the family, status insults, SHORT SMUT CONTENT (ass slapping, creampie, make-out), grammar errors. Tell me if I missed anything.

• Notes : Hard & Soft Thought (For all idols, soloists, actresses & actors, Fictional characters whether in Korean dramas, western films or novels or anything), and requests (Only for the groups I listed in the masterlist) ARE OPEN!

"I don't want to marry Emperor Donghyun, father! I already have a lover!" Your older sister, Wonyoung, stared at your father in frustration. She had been crying for days because of your father's ego. Even though this family has a high status, Wonyoung never wanted to marry a fellow noble, let alone the Emperor. She wanted to live a 'normal life' after getting married. Her lover is a commoner who doesn't even have aristocratic status in society. However, because of your father's ambition, he would never let Wonyoung marry a commoner. Moreover, Wonyoung is his legitimate daughter who is quite 'sought' after by high-class nobles. He used the opportunity to further enter the circles of government and power of the Empire.

Because of his crazy ambition in government, Wonyoung was also successful in being included in the list of prospective daughter-in-law by the queen mother, aka the mother of Emperor Donghyun. The queen mother is also the most insistent on meeting Wonyoung in person in the near future. She also seems to have made Wonyoung her top choice. Mr. Jang, aka your father, was so sure that Wonyoung would be the one chosen for her son.

Your father made Wonyoung a 'tool' so that he could become the prime minister of this empire easily without any obstacles whatsoever. This very unhealthy desire and ambition is also fully supported by Mrs. Jang, aka Wonyoung's mother. He wanted to see his daughter become an empress and become the center of attention of the empire. She also wanted to be labeled as the empress's mother and see her blood become an Emperor. It was the highest honor, any noble would want it.

"Stop being rebellious, Wonyoung! I only want the best for you! Leave your low-class lover and try to get Emperor Donghyun's attention!" Mr Jang glared at his daughter. And of course, Wonyoung was never afraid of that, since she was little she was not an obedient daughter. Even so, but she is the one whose future is most cared for, because she is a legitimate child. Even though you are an obedient child, your father will never treat you and Wonyoung the same. Because the status of your mother and her mother is clearly very different. Your mother was just your father's concubine who was taken to produce a baby boy. But, your mother died after giving birth to you. And not long after, Mrs. Jang successfully became pregnant again and gave birth to a son, who is now the main heir to the Jang family, Gunwook. Making your status even more forgotten, and you are not blind and deaf to know that your father and also Mrs Jang never liked your presence. Especially Mrs Jang, she hates you because you are the daughter of the woman who was your father's concubine. However, you are also lucky to have half-siblings like Wonyoung and Gunwook. They love you very much and treat you very well.

"You never wanted the best for me! You only want your stupid ambition to get the most elite position in this government and empire!" Mrs. Jang pulled her daughter's shoulder to face her. Glaring at her and squeezing her shoulders, he seemed to want to threaten his daughter.

"Follow our orders, Wonyoung. If you don't, we can do the worst to your stupid boyfriend," Wonyoung was weak when her mother used her lover for this threat. Wonyoung had always been weak when it came to her lover.

Behind the door, you only look at Wonyoung's pity which ends up being threatened by her own mother. Even though Wonyoung seemed strict, you knew very well how your older sister was. She is weak in her love for her lover. Of course, she would rather sacrifice than see something bad happen to her lover.

___

You stare in awe from your balcony as you see a line of luxury cars driving into the front yard of your family's manor. The entourage of the Emperor and his mother. Today, your father 'accepted' them to be introduced directly to Wonyoung.

But, you couldn't see that 'great' moment directly, your father forbade you from meeting the Emperor directly. He was afraid that it would worsen the situation, especially since there were many rumors and news that this new young Emperor upheld monogamy. So, you are only allowed to stay in your room until the Emperor returns to the government palace.

A man with long black hair got out of the car in the fourth row. He was the young emperor. You can clearly see how handsome the young emperor is. It makes you very fascinated. You can only see his face on television, magazines, or articles in online media. And he is exactly the same as the one you often see in those three news media. Even more handsome. She looks so dignified. Wonyoung is so lucky if she is directly chosen by the Emperor as his future wife.

Suddenly, Emperor Donghyun's gaze was directed at you who was on the balcony. That was because he was busy looking up at the magnificent building of Jang's manor. As a result, he saw you standing on the balcony. You froze when you realized Emperor Donghyun's gaze was on you, he didn't even take his eyes off you.

Emperor Donghyun, who had been staring blankly without taking his eyes off you, snapped out of his reverie when his mother patted his shoulder to enter the Manor. Mr. and Mrs. Jang gave a warm and respectful welcome to the Empress Mother and the Emperor.

You also snapped out of your frozen position as Emperor Donghyun walked over to your father and Mrs Jang. Before he finally disappeared behind the manor entrance. Sure enough, he was going to start this serious conversation.

You have many mixed thoughts about Wonyoung's arranged marriage. On one hand, you are very happy that she can get the best husband and is being fought for by her father. But on the other hand, you also think about his lover who comes from an ordinary background. If Wonyoung can't go against her parents' wishes, she will experience a tragic love story because she is hindered by her parents' blessing.

___

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Miss Y/N, I came to bring you some afternoon snacks," It was your maid's voice. Normally, you would have gotten your own lunch snack, but since you weren't allowed to leave the room, she was the one who brought it to you.

You, who were busy with your laptop, immediately got out of bed to open the door. The door is open. "Thank-"

"WOOF WOOF!" You glared when your beloved poodle, Bowie, suddenly barked and ran out of your room as you opened the door for your maid. He ran out of the room, making you panic.

"Oh no! Bowie!" You also immediately dashed out of the room, forgetting your father's order that you should not leave the room. And this was all because of Bowie who suddenly came out of your room.

Bowie ran fast down the second floor hallway and would soon reach the stairwell. You even took off your flat shoes to run faster, so you ended up running barefoot.

___

"So how is it? Wonyoung looks perfect when she's with Empe-"

"Bowie stop!" Mr Jang stopped his words when he heard a girl's scream from upstairs, and it made him stare in shock. All eyes, Including the empress, mother were of course immediately directed towards the second floor. Everyone could clearly see you running down the stairs to chase your dog.

Donghyun, the young emperor's gaze was very different when he saw a girl he had seen on the balcony earlier. The gaze was like worship (?). And that gaze was noticed by Wonyoung, which actually made Wonyoung grin widely. She seemed to have a big plan.

"Bo-AAA!" You let out a loud scream as your foot suddenly slipped from the fifth stair from the bottom. And you could tell that your body would be on the ground in a matter of seconds.

"Y/N!" Wonyoung screamed hysterically when she saw that her sister would be in trouble in less than ten seconds.

And before your body hit the floor, someone swiftly caught your body and hugged you tightly. Donghyun. Making everyone there hold their breath heavily, including your father and Mrs. Jang. Gunwook was even slower than Donghyun when he tried to catch you too.

You widened your eyes when you realized whose arms you had fallen into. The arms of a young emperor who might soon become your brother-in-law.

You hurriedly let go of his hug, bowing repeatedly and apologizing. "Forgive me, Majesty! I am truly sorry for being rude to you! Forgive me! Please forgive me!" You said in a voice that was shaking with fear, because you were afraid that this would offend Donghyun.

"Stop that!" Donghyun held your shoulders tightly as you continued to hunch over, even though your leg must be in extreme pain from the sprain. "Are you okay?" Donghyun asked with concern, as did his gaze. You didn't answer his question, making him take action again. He slowly made you sit on the stairs, taking your feet to put on his lap. And of course that made you pull your feet off his lap. "M-Majesty, what are you doing?" You asked in a horrified tone.

"Be quiet, I'm trying to make your leg better. Get me some olive oil!" He ordered the people around him, but no one would move, including Wonyoung and Gunwook. "Do you hear me? I need olive oil! Get it now!" Wonyoung immediately responded to the firm tone. She hurriedly took out the olive oil and gave it to him.

Donghyun slowly massaged your leg and 'fixed' the position of your veins. He understood this technique, because it was one of the survival methods he learned in the military. You winced and squealed a few times because of it, but the results were actually very good.

"Are you better?" Donghyun looked up and looked at you softly, you nodded. You were sure, if only you and him were in this room, he could hear clearly how your heart was beating faster. Wonyoung and Gunwook who were standing next to each other immediately exchanged glances and grinned. Especially Wonyoung, she was sure that Donghyun seemed more interested in his sister than her.

"Majesty-"

"What's your name?" Donghyun cut you off, he immediately asked about your name. So curious about the name of the beautiful girl in front of him.

"Y/N," You answered immediately, Donghyun smiled sweetly when he heard your name. If you are sensitive, he is very interested in you.

"Are you the daughter of the Jang family?”

"No, Majesty. She is just our family maid and-"

"Yes, she is the daughter of the Jang family. She is my sister and Gunwook's sister, but we have different mothers," Wonyoung cut off her father's words sharply when he admitted that you were a maid, not his daughter. Mr. and Mrs. Jang immediately stared sharply at their first child. Mr Jang also immediately became tense when he received unpleasant looks from the Empress Dowager and Emperor Donghyun.

"Why do you say your own daughter is a maid? This is a despicable act, Mr. Jang," Donghyun stared blankly at Mr. Jang, completely disliking what he said. From the way he spoke and what he said, Donghyun could immediately tell that Mr Jang was not a good person and father.

"Ah, that's not it, Majesty. Her late mother was just my concubine, so she's not really my daughter." You let out a harsh breath as your father said that reason. You were used to being treated unfairly like this. It was like your daily food.

"Are you insane? In the Imperial environment, my grandfather's grandchildren who are direct descendants of his concubines are legally recognized by the Empire. They can even get treatment like the grandchildren of an Emperor. They are still respected even though my grandfather has passed away. Their grandmother, who was my grandfather's concubine, was still respected by the Empire and the people. And you? You are a noble, but you are not responsible for what you take. If you choose to have a concubine, then you must be responsible for the child of your concubine. There is no need to have a concubine if you are not capable of carrying out the responsibilities you want, like my late father. My father was faithful to my mother, he practiced monogamy because he was not strong enough to 'take care of' a concubine. I should punish you for your irresponsible attitude towards your own child," Emperor Donghyun's words successfully made Mr and Mrs Jang stare in shock. Emperor Donghyun openly wanted to punish them for what they did. Their actions are like abandoning the children in their own family.

"But because you are the father of my future wife, so I forgive what you did. I don't want my future wife to walk down the aisle without her father," Donghyun's words immediately made Mr. Jang smile again after being tense for a few seconds.

"Majesty, so you want my Wonyoung to be your-"

"Not Wonyoung, but Y/N,"

Silence. Everyone was silent after what the young emperor said. Including you. Your face was shocked, pale, and made your tongue numb to speak. He chose you. You heard that right.

"Majesty, we are presenting Wonyoung, not the daughter of my husband's concubine. An illegitimate child has no right to the position of empress," Mrs Jang felt that she could not accept it. She wanted the label of being the Empress' mother for her, not for her late husband's concubine. She wanted her daughter to sit on the throne as the consort of an emperor, not the child of a concubine.

"Who said that, ma'am?” Donghyun asked coldly, he stood up from his squatting position to face the Jang husband and wife directly. "There is nothing wrong with her being my empress. It is not her fault that she was born from a concubine. If the people can love me, they will be able to love my empress regardless of whose daughter she is,"

Wonyoung felt like screaming with joy at that moment. Her beloved sister could now get a happiness that she never got. Wonyoung, she doesn't need to leave her love.

"Majesty, no,” you slowly stood up from your sitting position slowly. Making Donghyun look back at you. "I don't want to take away what my sister deserves. Wonyoung's mother was right, an illegitimate child had no right to the position of empress," Donghyun smiled, he walked closer to you. His hand reached out to stroke your hair, he looked like he was really in love with you.

"You deserve what your sister gets. You and her are the same, both of you are your father's daughters even though you were born from different mothers. I chose you because I know you deserve the position, I know you can be a good mother for my children in the future. The most important thing is that my heart's choice is definitely the best. I choose you with my heart and feelings," Donghyun said softly. You shook your head, wanting to say something, but Donghyun immediately cut you off (again).

"Look at Wonyoung, she looks happy with what you're going to get," You turned to Wonyoung, and sure enough. She was smiling brightly and looked very happy, the look in her eyes couldn't lie. She is genuinely happy with what you get, not jealous. Not only Wonyoung, Gunwook also couldn't help but look happy. Maybe they felt, soon you will be out of hell. Aka from the clutches of their parents.

"Majesty, give Emperor Donghyun an understanding. You know this is wrong,” Mrs Jang approached the Empress Mother who looked calm even though she had initially looked shocked. The Empress Mother Kim turned to Madam Jang, smiling faintly. "What do you mean by 'wrong'? There is nothing wrong with my son choosing what he wants. Why should I give him an understanding? I always support what he chooses, I know. What my son chooses must be the best. I trust in his choice," Mrs. Jang felt like going berserk right then and there, her gaze was so full of hatred towards you.

"Refusing what the Emperor wants is an insult to him, Sissy. His wishes are good, he wants to give you happiness," Wonyoung gives you words of encouragement so that you don't back down. You were silent, confused about what to say. All the different gazes were directed at you. And what you fear most is the hateful gazes of your father and Mrs Jang.

"Guards!" Donghyun signaled his bodyguard. A bodyguard in formal attire approached Donghyun with a medium-sized and wide box. Donghyun opened the box, holding up a tiara that was so beautiful and so pretty. The tiara must have looked very expensive. And you know what tiara it is. The Heart's Desire Tiara. The tiara was used by male heirs to the throne or emperors almost hundreds of years ago to propose to their future wives. One of the most historic collections of jewelry in the Empire. This is a unique tradition, because usually the proposal is done by exchanging rings or giving rings only. But this gives a tiara to the future Empress of the Emperor.

Slowly, the beautiful tiara landed on your head. You were even more shocked when your head was wearing such a beautiful Tiara. This was the first time you had worn a tiara. And it was also a historic tiara. Donghyun took your hand too, he put a diamond ring on your ring finger, and kissed it.

"My future empress, welcome to the empty space of my heart," Donghyun whispered softly in your ear, then gave a quick kiss on your cheek.

___

"You! You damn bitch!"

"MOTHER!" Wonyoung immediately blocked you from her mother's anger, she glared at her own mother. "Don't be crazy, Y/N is now under the protection of the empire. If she gets even the slightest scratch, Emperor Donghyun could kill us right now," You shed your tears in Wonyoung's arms, your older sister held you tightly so that you would not be reached by her mother's anger.

"Emperor Donghyun wouldn't know if she didn't tell him! Besides, aren't you mad, Wonyoung?! This girl took away your golden opportunity!" Wonyoung smiled bitterly, she was so sick of this damn poisonous ambition. "I'll tell him if you dare to hurt her, mother!"

"Jang Wonyoung! How dare you threaten your mother?!"

"Shut up you old man! This time I won't let you ruin my sister's golden opportunity! I won't keep quiet any longer if you keep forcing me to follow your bastard ambitions! I will not stand by any longer as you try to destroy what my sister has achieved. Remember your status here, in a matter of months you will be the ones bowing down to her," Mr. Jang couldn't believe it, his eldest daughter, whom he had prepared for this position, actually didn't want to and chose to support you, who he felt had no right to a high position.

___

Emperor Donghyun stared in horror at a news article online in the morning. He had just woken up and was already presented with news like this, news that made his blood boil at six in the morning.

Head of Jang Family Beats His Youngest Daughter in Public

Just reading the news headline was enough to make Donghyun furious. He immediately read the contents of the article which had just been published less than five minutes ago.

Paparazzi cameras caught Mr. Jang hitting his daughter after they both just came out of the supermarket. The witness said the reason Mr. Jang hit his daughter was because they had had a sharp and fierce argument.

Miss Jang Y/N is the future wife of Emperor Donghyun, they will be married in a few months. The government and Imperial Security have not commented on this matter. The Empire's legal team has also not commented on this matter. The violence that the future Empress received should not be tolerated. Moreover, Miss Jang Y/N is already under the Imperial security, and the Empire has full responsibility for her security.

Mr Jang could be in trouble because he not only hit his daughter, but hit a future Empress who is fully protected by the Empire.

Donghyun squeezed the iPad in his hand tightly, he clicked on a video showing his future father-in-law's antics. In the video, he could clearly see, Mr. Jang hit you and pushed you down onto the asphalt. He also saw clearly how your body was forced to get up and then roughly pulled to get into the car.

Donghyun got up from his sitting position and opened his room door roughly. Never mind that he would make a mess in the morning. The crazy news was enough to make him furious, he might as well make a mess now.

"Mr. Hwangbo! Mr. Hwangbo! come before me right now!" Donghyun's thunderous scream could wake anyone up from their sleep. Just imagine, the condition of the palace which was still quiet because it was still morning suddenly became noisy because of the young Emperor's scream.

Mr Hwangbo, the head of the Imperial Family's Security, came before Donghyun in a hurry. He wasn't even wearing his full attire yet. The Empress Mother also came with a shocked face, she was still wearing her nightgown.

"Donghyun, what's wrong, son? Why are you screaming so early in the morning?" Empress Mother asked worriedly about her son. Moreover, seeing his face flushed red with anger, Empress Mother knew that her son was furious.

The young emperor raised his iPad screen to his mother. Playing the video he had just watched. "Look at this jerk's behavior," Empress Mother frowned, she moved her face closer to the video.

Her eyes widened in shock when he saw who was hurt in the video. His future daughter-in-law. Empress Mother stared at her son in horror. "M-Mr. Jang? Did I just see him hit his daughter?"

"Yes, you saw right, Mother," Donghyun said then put his iPad on a nearby bedside table, now it was his turn to look at Mr. Hwangbo. "Bring Mr. Jang before me, bring him to my office in less than half an hour," Donghyun immediately left the people gathered in the hall, and his orders were of course immediately carried out by Mr. Hwangbo.

___

Wonyoung stared anxiously at the door of Donghyun's office. It was clear that her father had been taken somewhat forcibly to the Government Palace because of his actions last night. His action of hitting his own daughter.

If Donghyun's work room wasn't soundproof, it was certain that his shouts and harsh shouts could be heard from his mouth. Wonyoung knew very well, Donghyun and your relationship was slowly starting to get very close, and you were also slowly starting to have feelings of love for him. Donghyun is so protective of you from any harm or pain. His protection for you is quite tight even though you are still his fiancée.

But how could you go out with him last night without any protection. And that also triggered Donghyun's anger when he found out that you went out without the standard protection of the Empire that night.And rest assured, it must be because of your father.

The door swung open, revealing Donghyun with a messed up appearance, his face still as angry. He looked at Wonyoung and his mother alternately. Behind him, Mr. Jang seemed to be experiencing severe trauma. His face was shocked, probably after being shouted at harshly and repeatedly by Donghyun.

"Bring my Y/N here! I want my girl in this palace right now!"

___

The door to the throne room opened as the butler opened the large door. You can clearly see your future husband sitting on the throne with a somewhat chaotic appearance. He hadn't even changed out of his pajamas into his regular clothes.

Donghyun signaled his palace butler to leave you and him alone without being disturbed. The door closed behind you. And now you and he were alone in the magnificent throne room.

"Majesty," You curtsey respectfully to him, the usual thing you do when you meet him. You understand very well, you are still his fiancée, not his wife. So, your status is still in a different position.

"Come here," You approached him, walking up the stairs which led directly to the throne chair where he was sitting. When you were in front of him, he kissed your hand softly. Looking at you with worried eyes. "Why didn't you tell me last night?" He asked, his eyes looking a little tired. It was understandable, his morning had been a mess and quite draining.

"I just don't want to make things worse. I'm fine anyway," You said in a calm tone. He slowly pulled you to sit on his lap, he shook his head. "But it's all gone bad. Your father broke the 'rules' by being rude to my future wife. You know, even though you are his daughter, he should be aware that soon you will not only be his daughter, but his empress as well. He should respect that important position, not hurt you," You cupped his face, placing soothing strokes on his jaw and cheeks.

"Don't worry too much, the most important thing is that I'm fine now. I know, you won't silent if I'm oppressed by someone," You kissed his lips briefly, intending to give him deeper peace.

But instead, he pulled your head and immediately captured your lips with his. His right hand gently pressed the back of your head to deepen the kiss. Your tongues clashed, he was so good at making out and clashing tongues like this. Your fingers roamed his neck. You also pressed the back of his neck to deepen your kiss, occasionally squeezing his long hair gently.

Starting to be enveloped in burning lust, your hands unbutton the top three buttons of his pajamas to touch and feel his chest. Donghyun felt himself getting aroused and felt a heat spreading throughout his body.

You feel that there is a bulge rubbing against your pussy which is still covered by panties. You broke the kiss and immediately attacked the young emperor's neck with your wet lips that were still covered in thick lipstick. You're both horny and both want more.

Donghyun growled as your lips and tongue played hotly around his neck area. Not only that, your hands also played on his chest. And that made him even more insane. You went back up to his lips, giving him a kiss that this time was not full of love, but of passionate lust.

"Damn, I want you, your pussy, everything about you but we're not married yet," Donghyun gasped as you broke the kiss again. You were burning with lust, but instead you said something that instantly made Donghyun forget his status. "To hell with not being married, we're getting married soon. It doesn't matter if you use me now," Hearing that, of course Donghyun was shocked. He didn't seem to see you who were always calm and looked dignified. But, because of this crazy lust, anyone will forget what their real status is.

"Take off your clothes," Donghyun said in a trembling voice. And without hesitation, you immediately did what he wanted. In less than a minute you were completely naked in front of him.

Donghyun was like seeing an angel in typical European paintings. And now, he was like seeing someone coming out of a painting.

___

"G-Gonna cum," You whimpered as you felt your orgasm, who knows how many, about to hit you. You and Donghyun had been making love in the throne room for almost an hour in different positions. Your pussy is already filled with his cum which he has spurted several times. He never let his cum out from your pussy

And this time, you and him are on the sofa in his throne room, doing doggy style. The most enjoyable position you have experienced with him. "Yeah, cum. Do it one more time for me," His long fingers reached your clit and made circular movements, making you cum so hard that it wet your thighs and the sofa where you were making love.

Not long after, Donghyun also cums again and spurts his fluids very much. Making your fluids mix together again. You both gasped, he slowly pulled out his cock. You clenched around nothing and made his cum drip from your pussy. Making Donghyun smile in satisfaction, he slapped your ass.

"You turned out to be a great stress reliever for me. I love you so much and I was not wrong to choose you," The young emperor slapped your ass again and then gave a quick kiss on the red mark from his 'sexy' slap.

After this, he would move the wedding date forward. He couldn't stand it any longer, the girl he had chosen was so perfect.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hiya sex witch

Hope ur having a good one!

I have a sexual health question. Im 28yo M and am as far as i am aware overall healthy, but sometimes i have trouble orgasming during sex, but rarely during masturbation. Im aware that contrary to popular belief men dont always orgasm 100% of the time and that there is nothing wrong with having difficulty with "keeping it up" so long as its not health related (i dont usually have difficulty with this part specifically, i just feel from experience that some times this is forgotten among people so i wanted to mention that)

I enjoy sex with my partners and im mentally very in the mood for it! Im not really nervous and havent felt pressured with them but some times it takes a very long time for me to finish, like more that 1.5 hours and up to 2 or 3 one time, and understandably my partners dont usually want to go that long lol i also find it frustrating because i feel the need around the 30-40minute mark but like i dont get that final push if that makes sense?

I did online searching and most answers are kinda wishy washy about causes other than excess masturbation, ive cut down on masturbation because alot of places say that that can be a cause but i only masturbated like once or twice a week and now im down to twice a month but it still happens.

Ive also heard that a too tight circumcision can lead to desensitisation and is what im kinda thinking this might be, i was circumcised at birth and have what the forskin restoration website ( www.restoringforeskin.org ) says is a RCI-0 or maybe RCI-1 which are considered super tight or tight respectively, both of which can lead to lack of sensation. And am considering maybe working on restoring my foreskin due to this, but i wanted your opinion on how like legit this all is considering it kinda sounds idk farfetched to me? Like being able to just stretch the skin back out with tape, is that even a thing? And does this sound like a possible cause?

Thanks for all your hard (no joke intended)'work and ur also awsome!

P.S. tumblr is being fucky on my phone all the time so if this is not anonymous please ignore/dm me to say make it anonymous again or whatever tanks

hi anon,

thank you so much for your question! it sounds like you've put a lot of thought into it already, and it was very interesting to read.

I have some hesitation in declaring that something is physically the matter with your penis, mainly because you mention that orgasm tends to come at a much more typical speed when you're masturbating. in the case of a physical problem I'd usually expect to see similar results whether you were having sex solo or partnered, which to me suggested it might be more of a mental/emotional blockage here?

but, having said that: I'm not a healthcare provider! and it sounds like a visit with one to discuss your observations might be really beneficial at this point.

while foreskin restoration is a thing, it's also a thing that doesn't have much research backing it up, and long-term results aren't very well known. consulting with a urologist before attempting a restoration sounds like it would be a great idea for you, as they could help confirm whether your foreskin is the problem and advise you on safely practicing restoration if it's an appropriate treatment. or, if that isn't the case, they're likely to have a much better idea about what else might be causing your situation.

best of luck!

[moonstruckme]

Hi! You are such a good writer!! Totally fine if you don’t want to be write this because it can be triggering, but I was recently roofied (nothing happened physically but I did have to go to the hospital, I’m ok now) and it would be nice to see either a steddie or poly!marauders fic on how they would react to it happening to their girl. More focusing on the aftermath and mental issues… again if this is too trigger please don’t feel bad about not writing it. I would also just love a basic comfort fic <3

Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry that happened to you. I've had it happen to a couple of my friends while we've been out (thankfully nothing happened with them either and we were able to get them home safe, but it's so terrifying regardless), and it's insane that it happens so frequently. I hope you're feeling better my love and are seeking any support you need <33

cw: non-consensual drug use, mentions of drinking, no sexual assault but general talk of rape culture

Steddie x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

No part of you is comfortable right now, but you’re trying to tell yourself it could be worse.

The IV in your arm is itchy, your head is starting to hurt, you feel cold and exposed in the outfit you’d worn to the bar, and your throat is sore from forcing yourself to be sick repeatedly on the curb. 

You want to cry, but you’re not sure you’ve got the energy left to do it. 

It turns out you do, though, because as soon as the nurse pulls back the curtain to let Steve and Eddie into the little area you’ve been given, your cheeks wet themselves with tears. 

“Hey,” Eddie coos, nearly picking you up off the bed in his eagerness to have you in his arms. “Hey, baby, how ya doing?”

“Hey,” you try to say back, but the sound is garbled by a sob. You’re trembling again. You thought you’d gotten past that. 

Steve crouches by your bed, eye-to-eye with you as he smoothes some sticky pieces of hair away from your face. You’re not sure if they’re wet with sweat or vomit or something else. You try to stop it, but another sob escapes you, your chest like a cracked shell Eddie’s trying to hold together with his hands on your back. You appreciate it, but it’s a feeble attempt. You’re crying like a child now, shoulders shaking, face hot with tears as you cover it with your hand embarrassedly. 

“Take it easy, you’re alright,” Steve says, then hesitates, giving you a once-over. “You’re okay, aren’t you? I know you said on the phone nothing happened, but…”

You shake your head, sniffling but trying to pull yourself together. “It didn’t.”

Eddie lets you go, and Steve rolls his eyes as you scooch over to make room for him on the tiny bed. “What happened then, sweet thing?” he asks gently.

Any composure you’d worked up crumples, and a whimpering sound tears from the back of your throat in your efforts to keep from bursting into tears again. 

“Give her a minute,” Steve murmurs, rubbing your back with slow, long strokes. He takes your IV tube in his hand, carefully working it out from under where you’d accidentally sat on top of it. “It’s okay, honey, take your time.” 

The frightening part of it is, you’ve already forgotten most of it. Your friends had to be the ones to tell you that you’d been with them the whole time, that no one had left you alone and nothing had happened. That you’d scraped your knees on the sidewalk outside, not in some dark alleyway, and that they’d been the ones to drive you to the hospital, not some random guy once he’d finished with you. 

You shudder, and Eddie mistakes it for a shiver, taking off his jacket to drape it over your shoulders. “Thanks,” you say. The smile he gives you in return is far from happy, but it’s something. 

“I don’t remember everything,” you warn them, and some of the blood leaves Eddie’s face as Steve’s mouth flattens stoically, nodding for you to go on. You force yourself to take a deep breath. “Um, I know I’d had a couple drinks, but I was feeling fine, and then I had one more and everything started to seem off within like, twenty minutes? I couldn’t really walk, and I could barely talk, and that’s not what three drinks do to me, you know?”

You look to Steve for confirmation, and he squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. “Right. We’ve seen you after a few drinks, honey. That doesn’t add up.” 

You nod, feeling a bit more sure of yourself. “Yeah. Anyway, then Ananya said I told her I felt weird, and she took me outside to get some air and I made myself throw up outside the bar. And I guess I got everything out of my system, because when I got here they said—” You clear your throat, fighting against the blockage there. “They said it could have gotten a lot worse if I hadn’t.” 

Eddie rests his head on your shoulder with a sigh, hair tickling your neck. “Fuck, baby, I’m so sorry. Do you have any idea who might’ve done it?”

You shrug with the other shoulder, and Eddie intertwines his fingers with yours comfortingly. “I mean, a group of guys bought that third round for me and my friends, so it could’ve been them. But then it’s weird that I’m the only one who got roofied, right?” Eddie’s hand tightens on yours, and something hardens in Steve’s eyes. “Could’ve been the bartender, too, I guess. I was paying attention to my drink, and they’re the only ones who had their hands on it, but…” you shrug again. “No proof, and no way to know for sure.” 

Steve’s voice is low, but soft for your benefit, when he asks, “You sure you don’t want to try to do anything about it?”

That’s one thing you’ve had all night to mull over, the one thought you forced your unnaturally sluggish brain to work through. You shake your head. “I think I’m gonna call the bar tomorrow and tell them what happened just in case it was their bartender, but right now I just want to go home.” 

Eddie makes a sympathetic sound, turning his head to nuzzle at your neck affectionately. Steve reaches over to pat his leg, smiling at the both of you. “I asked the nurse on our way in, she said you’re free to go as soon as your IV is done,” he promises. “She said you’ll have a hangover from whatever they gave you, too, so I’m thinking we can pick up some gatorade and stuff on our way home and have a chill day on the couch, sound good?”

You give him a tired smile, and he cups your face in his palm, a slight crease forming between his brows as he assesses your red-rimmed eyes, the circles beneath them. “My head is already kind of hurting,” you admit, “so that sounds perfect.”��

He hums. “We’ve probably got a little while until they can unhook you,” he says, eyeing your IV bag. “Wanna try and sleep?”

You hesitate, recalling with abrupt clarity the scrape of pavement under your knees, the lights going by your window on the way to the hospital, the mantra that had played in your head over and over again: don’t fall asleep, don’t fall asleep. But Eddie’s head is a reassuring weight on your shoulder, and Steve begins stroking his thumb under your aching eyes as he waits for you to answer. You’re nowhere safer than with them beside you. “You’ll stay with me?” you ask quietly. 

Eddie scoffs, his breath tickling the underside of your chin. “Sweetheart, you scared the shit out of us tonight; we’re never letting you out of our sight again.”

[anzulvr]

hii could i please request a little hurt/comfort drabble where reader feels sad during christmas season but forces herself to at least pretend to be happy because karma’s birthday is on christmas day :( but karma notices how her smile doesn’t meet her eyes and stuff and asks reader about it!

Summary: You’re sad on Christmas, Karma x reader (except it’s his birthday.) hurt/comfort GN!reader HUGE SPOILER WARNING FOR ASSASSINATION CLASSROOM

(this is so cute I LOVE THIS REQUEST thank u! Had this in my drafts for a while but waited for Christmas to post)

It had been two years since everything ended. Two years since Korosensei died and all of End class were labeled as victims with some weird-Stockholm attachment to the monster who blew up the moon.

It was strange, seeing everyone care about you when you didn’t need it and remembering how low they thought of you when you were only the reject class of kunugigaoka.

A lot happened in two years, not a long time but considering how quickly everything was moving you hadn’t had time to catch up. Like any special day Christmas wasn’t a good time anymore- something your classmates agreed on. With the impact Korosensei had on your lives it was impossible to celebrate anything without wondering what would have been if you managed to save him. That was only wishful thinking, you couldn’t change the past.

Regardless, today you tried to keep a smile on your face. It was the most important time of the year, Karmas birthday- and Christmas too.

You stared at your poor attempt to decorate the cake you baked with Karma, the frosting written birthday note was almost illegible.

“What’s with the look, you’re writing isn’t that bad.”

You looked up after hearing Karmas voice as if you were pulled out of a trance.

“What look? I know it’s not that bad I was admiring our hard work.”

“More like my hard work, you kept dropping everything! Seriously though, what’s wrong? The whole day I’ve been catching you teary eyed.”

You turned your back to the counter to face him as you set the frosting bag down “I’m fine, today’s your day I’m not going to bother you with my problems. You should enjoy everything to its fullest.”

“I’m not going to enjoy anything if you’re not happy, ‘m not budging tell me why you’re upset.”

Karma was stubborn, you knew him well enough to realized this wasn’t negotiable.

“I don’t know… I was just thinking about how Korosensei can’t spend Christmas with us, and he can’t be here for your birthday. Ever since we killed him, Ive felt so helpless? Like we never did enough.”

He nodded slowly breaking eye contact for a second, “my parents haven’t answered my call today, they’re in Italy right now, all I got was a text saying they were busy and that they’d talk later. I know they haven’t forgotten, it’s kind of impossible when it’s Christmas but still- I hoped they would have time for me today, I know they have more important things to do but It made me think about how Korosensei would’ve been here.”

you nodded in response, “They could still call the days not over… and if they don’t they’ll try to make it up to you…” You could bet they wouldn’t call until the next day but you wanted to reassure him, there wasn’t a lot you could say in this situation that would make him feel better.

“It’s fine, you’re here- and you’re the best company, I had fun today. I just meant Korosensei has done a lot for us he’s proud we pulled that off, he wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up over it.”

“I know you’re right, still I wish I could’ve done more, we should’ve tried harder to save him.”

“We did what we had to. I miss him too, there’s a lot of things I could never repay Korosensei for—”

“Like getting you through senioritis? Or always bringing money in his wallet even though he knew you’d steal it?”

“I meant setting us up together, but sure those were good too.” Karma smiles breaking tenseness of the conversation for moment, “at the time I thought he was being a hassle but without him im not sure id have you right now.”

Suddenly you felt shy laughing it off and covering your face for a moment while you composed yourself, “Yeah he did push for us a lot but I was obsessed with you far before we even ended up in 3-E so you would’ve had me regardless.”

“Yeah? Tell me more.”

“No way in hell, I don’t trust you to not make fun of me. Anyways I didn’t mean to bring up something depressing, we should be smearing cake all over your face right now.”

“Try all you want but it isn’t possible to mess up my face.”

“Wanna bet?” You shake the smile off your face.

“See that’s more I like it, we can enjoy our ugly cake now. And more importantly you can open your gift.”

“What do you mean my gift? It’s your birthday you’re not supposed to buy me stuff!”

“It’s also Christmas … I couldn’t help myself I really wanted to get you something.”

“But now I’m worried my gift won’t live up to yours!”

“[Name] you could give me rocks for all I care and I’d keep them in a safe with multiple locks.”

You gently shoved his shoulder suppressing your laughter, you leaned in to kiss him.

It was impossible to not feel better with him around. This morning you had woken up wishing time could stop for a moment and you ended the day hoping for the same thing but for a completely different reason.

[fir3ylolol]

hi fir3y :3333 can we have more johnny cage x camera stuff (anything related, nothing specific; cameras in house, recording w phone etc) w him having a long time crush for y/n 😁 kind of like how you did w smile! you're on camera (i cant remember if i sent this if i already did im sorry 😥😥)

dazed and confused

pairing: Johnny Cage x Reader

summary: it's been a while since you've seen your good friend johnny. but what happens when long-time crush mixes with weed?

tw: vaginal sex, vaginal penetration, oral sex, blowjob, eating out, cunnilingus, long-time crush, weed usage, intoxicated sex, loss of inhibitions, praise, filmed, sex tape, cumming inside, cum eating, putting on a show, whimpering men heheheh, afab!reader, gn reader

a/n: YAYYY finally another post!! its been forever. this was requested by @keiiikomegumi. gotta love men who fall hard and fuck desperately O.O also i think this is the longest fic other than we want you! ive ever written lol

word count: 2.65 k

Ao3

It’s been about 3 weeks since you last saw Johnny, which kinda sucks. He’s always a lot of fun, and you’ve been really stressed lately. So when you get his text reading, “come over 4 dinner, we can chill 0.o”, you quickly respond, “see u thennn”. You leave shortly afterward, excited to finally relax. You roll into his driveway after about 30 minutes of driving, seeing Johnny’s shadowed figure standing in the doorway. You hop out excitedly, walking over and capturing him in a tight hug. He laughs, hugging you back just as tight. “Hey! I’ve missed you, it’s been wayyyy too long. Come in, I’ve already got some food ready.” You walk in, drinking in the familiar sight of his home. You see the table set, two spots right next to each other, with a suspicious look on his face.

“So what do you have in store for me?” You sit down, watching as he disappears into the kitchen. “Well, I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, and so have I. So…” He walks out, a large silver plate covered with a cloche. “I figured we deserved a treat,” he says with a smirk, lifting it and revealing two brownies. Realization hits you hard. You see, this is California, and if there’s any pastime Californians love, it’s getting high. Johnny is no different; in fact, he likes edibles more, since he says smoking will “damage his star-quality voice and flawless skin.” But he lives a stressful life, and he needs a break just as much as you. So seeing two, delicious-looking brownies on separate plates, you know exactly why you were invited. And you nearly cry.

“Johnny…” you smile up at him, “thank you. So much.” His eyes light up, placing the plates down for you two as he sits down next to you. “Yay, I knew you would be happy! Ok, I’ve got plenty of snacks in the fridge and cold ass water, so we’re set.” He picks his brownie up, and you follow, clinking them together like glasses before taking a bite. It’s rich, fudgy, and absolutely one of the best brownies you’ve ever had. With a mouthful of food, you try to speak, “Schit manm, ‘his is schoo good.” He laughs at you, finishing his bite before speaking, “It’s been barely a month and you’ve forgotten your manners?” You smack him lightly, before standing up and getting a glass of water, downing the whole thing. He follows you, giving you a big hug from behind. He’s rocking back and forth, face buried in your neck. He’s always been more touchy with you than his other friends, but you don’t mind. He’s warm and gentle and always smells fancy. But you laugh, rocking with him. “The room’s already spinning, oooooh.” He lifts you slightly, walking through the kitchen. “You’re so high, oh noooo!” He set you down, laughing still. “You’re so much fun, I missed you.”

You feel a slight twinge in your heart, the words must mean more to you than it does to him. You’ve been a little glad not to see him honestly, but only because your feelings for him have gotten that intense. A break was just what you needed, but now? When you’re going to be wasted and he’s just so nice and so close? You might break. But for now, you appear cool laughing as well before managing to say, “I missed you too” without seeming suspicious. And you start to fall into the same routine as usual, he leads you to the couch to chill together and watch something fun. He used to go to the cinema room, but once he got too high, watched Rambo on the big screen, and had a panic attack. Plus, you can’t cuddle in there, and he can’t stand for that, loudly declaring that he’ll rip the chairs out every time you two go in there. But he never does. You two end up talking about the weeks you didn’t see him. He’s been working on a new film, but won’t reveal any details other than it’s “based on a super true story”. And he laments how hard you’ve been working, trying to convince you again, “You should just quit and hang with me all the time. It would be awesome.” But alas, you turn him down again, as tempting as it is.

Before you know it, it’s been almost two hours, and you’re definitely feeling it more, the buzzing in your brain is a little louder, and Johnny’s touch gives you more goosebumps. But he leans back suddenly, looking you up and down. “Wait, I just realized, I can’t remember the last time you told me one of your famous bad date stories. What’s going on?” You fluster at his words, so direct and to the point that you can’t think for a second. You finally manage to speak again, your tongue feeling a little too heavy, “I’ve just been busy, man.” He scrunches up his face, thinking deeply. “When was the last time you got some? You know…” He nudges you, eyebrows raised suggestively. You take an embarrassingly long pause before speaking again. “...a year.” 

He leans forward, directly in front of your face. “A year?! How are you even alive??” You push him as playfully as you can, completely flustered by the whole thing. “Quit it, it’s not funny!” He sighs dramatically, splayed out across the couch. “So what’s up? Someone catch your eye or something?” You pause again, trying not to look at him, but your mouth betrays you. “Yeah, maybe. But it’s fine, he doesn’t like me like that.” He scoffs, head still tipped back, “What an idiot. You’re awesome. He’s really lucky I don’t just snatch you away for myself.” His whole body freezes as if he said something he didn’t mean to. You look at him, eyes wide and muscles tense. “W…what?” You ask tentatively. But he stands up, walking away while waving his arms around, “Nothing, nothing. Don’t worry about it.” But you can see the tips of his ears are bright red, and he’s tapping his foot on the ground, something he only does when nervous. You stand up and walk over, staying behind him. “Johnny, it’s something. Just tell me, it’ll be ok.” He takes a deep breath before speaking, still turned away from you. “I said he was lucky I didn’t take you for myself. I didn’t mean to say it, but honestly, it’s true. I mean, what kind of idiot doesn’t like the most stunning person alive? I just…I said too much, and I didn’t want to weird you out because you’re such a great friend and…” He’s babbling on, saying way too much and not making a ton of sense.

But you grab his hand lightly, which causes him to turn around. His eyes are watery, his cheeks and the tip of his nose are red, and his mouth is scrunched up in a frown. You can’t help but smile at him, squeezing his hand tighter. “Do you like me, Johnny?” He nods like a child, free hand coming up to wipe his eyes. “I like you too,” you say with a smile, no longer nervous or guilty of your feelings. He sniffles, looking at you with his wide brown eyes, “Really? You do?” As you nod, he sort of snaps back to usual, but not in a performative way, in a happy way. “Well of course you do! Who could resist all this?” He smiles before pulling you into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers in your ear before he pulls away. But not fully, as you two lock eyes, and the air grows thick again. You swallow hard, eyes darting across his face nervously. He cups your face with his left hand, and slowly leans in, pressing his lips to yours. It’s exactly like him, warm and gentle, and it makes you dizzy. In fact, you feel your knees buckle slightly, which he laughs at into the kiss. As he pulls away to breathe again, you can’t help but feel hungry for more. You’ve only gotten a taste of what you’ve wanted for so long, and it’s very appetizing.

Johnny quickly pulls you back to the couch, barely able to think before you find yourself on his lap, hands wandering around your back, eyes locked onto yours. His touch is even more intoxicating than normal, with heavy breathing and racing hearts shared between you two. One hand reaches your neck, pulling you back in. But he’s not as gentle this time, like he’s trying to devour you whole. His other hand is on your hip, guiding you to grind against him slowly. Your hands wrap around his neck loosely. He groans into your mouth, squeezing tighter. You feel his tongue in your mouth, desperate for more of you, more than there is. You can feel yourself growing wetter, so high that your previous inhibitions are gone. Everything is happening so fast, and you’re starting to feel desperate.

He finally breaks away, panting heavily, before looking at you needily. And with how pretty his flushed face is and how badly he wants you, you can’t help but slide down to the floor between his legs. His pupils are blown out, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. He tries desperately to pull his pants down quickly, struggling slightly.  But he finally frees himself, cock bouncing out as the angry red tip leaks out. He’s embarrassed, turning his head away slightly, but keeping his eyes locked on you. You have no time to tease, absolutely hungry for him, for this. You take him in your mouth, getting most of the way down before you stop, looking up at him sweetly. He gasps, eyes wide and hands clutching at the couch cushions. You start to move, swirling your tongue around him as you keep a steady pace. His eyelids are fluttering, and very quickly he darts his hands out to grab your face lightly, bringing you up to face him. “C-can I film you? I just…I’ve wanted this for so long and you just look so pretty and I just…I don’t want to forget this, any detail of this.” 

You nod lazily, a smile spreading across your lips as you watch him scramble for his phone. He holds it up, hands shaking as he starts filming. You decide to put on a show for him, looking up through your lashes as you go down again, able to get almost all the way down, gagging slightly. He white knuckles the phone, staring at you intensely. His other hand comes up, grabbing your hair in one hand. His voice rasps out, “Wanna see that face, all of it. God, you’re so good at this. Fuck…” He sighs as you reach your hand out, starting to stroke him as you lean your head down, licking at his balls. He jumps slightly, but the most lovely whine escapes his lips, so you continue, trying to overwhelm him with pleasure. And overwhelm him you do, as he starts squirming back and forth at the intensity of it all, more heady whines. He finally remembers to hold the camera steady, trying to still himself. But as you go down again, rapid and sloppy moves, eyes watering as you look up again, his grasp on your hair tightens. He cries out as he cums, shuddering as you keep going, swallowing it all. You pull off with a pant, looking into the camera and sticking out your tongue to show what you did. He’s breathing hard, letting go of your hair and going slightly slack on the couch. But he tugs at your shirt, pulling it over your head. Even fucked out, he wants more.

You stand up, half-naked, and he tries his hardest to get your pants off too. But his hands are too shaky, and he’s trying to keep his grip on the camera. So you step back and slowly peel them off for him, and you can see his cock twitch slightly at the sight of you. You climb back on top of him, kissing him gently. But he leans to the side, propping the phone against the arm of the couch, and flips to the front camera. He shuffles down a little, leaning slightly to pull his pants down further as you pull his shirt off, wanting to feel his warm skin against yours. He kisses your cheek, and down your neck, reveling in the way you arch your back at the feeling. He whispers out shakily, “You ready? Gonna put a show on for me?” You nod, head dizzy again, as he rubs himself against you, audibly groaning at the feeling. He has no time to waste, sinking into you with a heady whimper. You gasp, taking a second to adjust to him, feeling his hands cling to your hips.

But it’s not long before he’s bucking up into you, using his grip on you for leverage. He’s bit down on your shoulder, whimpers slipping out. Your arms are behind his neck, clinging to him like your life depended on it. You feel him let go, raspy whispers in your ear, “You’re so hot, shit, so tight around me. You like putting on a show for me? Yeah?” You nod, moans pushed out at the force he’s moving now. His voice is shaking more now, but he can’t stop talking, “Shit, I don’t know if it’s the weed talking or what, but you’re so fucking good. Can’t believe I didn’t tell you sooner-” He’s cut off, a whimper as he manages to push deeper, completely enveloped in you. He’s losing his mind, hands wrap around your back for more leverage. But it’s not long before he’s cumming again, a whine as he pushes you down as far as he can. He’s trembling more, heavy pants in your ear. But finally, he’s lifting you and setting you down on the couch. Both of you are breathing heavily, trying to calm down after everything. 

That is until he grabs the phone and puts it in your hands. Confused, you look at him, but suddenly, he’s between your thighs, kneeling on the ground. “Can’t leave you wanting, especially after all that.” He dives in, with no sense of patience, as he sucks at your throbbing clit. His fingers pump inside you, your wetness mixing with his cum. You keep the camera on his face, legs pushed apart as you flinch at your sensitivity. He’s looking up at you, sweet eyes locked on you. He lets go slightly, mumbling into you, “Good job, baby, you’re doing such a good job.” You’re moaning, high-pitched, and slipping from your lips. He’s whining into your sopping cunt, vibrations against your clit causing more jumps. But you cling to him, eyes screwed shut as you cum hard, feeling his tongue lapping everything up with fervor. He finally separates from you, sitting down on the couch with an exhale.

He takes the phone, stopping the recording as he puts his arm around you. “I’ll save those for later,” he says, making you giggle slightly, but you’re quite tired. “We should get high more often, huh?” You snuggle into him, enjoying the feeling of his heartbeat under your ear. “Maybe. But hey, those videos better not get leaked or anything.” Your words cause him to whine out, slightly annoyed. “Come on, you know me! I would never. Besides…it would make too many people jealous, you know? Such a pretty thing like you, all for myself.” You laugh again before looking up at him, sleepy but happy eyes. “You’re stuck with me now, by the way.” He hugs you tight, squeezing you with a wide smile on his face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Koala Bear

a/n we are shy from 2k bubbles and since I am dying in bed I thought hey... let's return to our silver fox. Don't be tricked this is purely for self indulgence.

summary: pre-outbreak Joel trying to figure out why his girlfriend has been acting weird, yet the sight he's greeted with is far from what he had imagined, leading to hospital trips, panicked phone calls and a man so in love he's ready to do anything for the woman he loves.

warnings: a new not so much established relationship, period pain/blood, puking, hospitals, fainting, iv's, mention of past sexual interactions.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Joel was desperate to get back home. The traffic in front of him only increased his frustration. This morning felt odd, and the fact that he had to leave you without having a chance to have a proper conversation with you left him uneasy. Joel doubted that he had done anything wrong. At least, he hoped he hadn't. You didn't go to bed upset. You two had cuddled all night. He sure hadn't forgotten any important dates. He had them all marked in the calendar down by the fridge, and the closest one was Tommy's birthday, so it was not something to have you frowning about.

Joel did try to nudge Sarah about it before dropping her off at school, but she just shrugged her shoulders. Murmuring something about how she thought the two of you had just had a fight or something. "But you haven't?", she asked, looking over at her dad. Ever since Joel introduced you to her, she had fallen in love just as hard. You had only moved in the past month. Taking your relationship slow, not wanting to overwhelm Sarah. Yet to some extent, she was even more excited than Joel and you, or even both of you put together. "No, love, we didn't fight", he's quick to reassure her. Making the girl nodded her head.

Joel knew that now that Sarah had grown fond of you and let you into her life, she was scared to lose you. Any bickering, even the lighthearted one, had her squirming. The first time it happened, she nearly had a panic attack. Eyes filling up with tears, she muttered, "Now you will leave", when you found her sitting on the stairs. "Why would I, love bug?", "Well, dad said that stupid stuff about how you can't cook for life", she sniffed, wiping her runny nose with the back of her sleeve. You draped your hand over her shoulders, bringing her closer. "We were only messing around. I'm not leaving you or your dad, even if he's one annoying shit sometimes", you said, wiping her tears away. Making her giggle slightly, as she leaned into you, pressing her body closer to yours.

Joel parked the car in the driveway. Quickly jumping out before opening the back door to take the flowers he had bought for you. He saw them on his way back to his car at work. They reminded him of you. His spring in the midst of the coldest winter. His dainty tulip. In a way, Joel had forgotten what it was like to date. It had been fourteen years, and he wasn't a spring chicken anymore. If he was being honest, he had given up on finding anyone, and the empty side of the bed had long stopped feeling lonely. Well, that was until he met you.

It was a miserable day in Texas. It seemed like the sky had opened. Heavy rain hadn't stopped since early morning. No sign of easing any time soon. Joel was waiting for Tommy. Annoyed that he had to go out in the weather like this. Let alone sit in the car waiting because the younger Miller was late.

Joel was mindlessly listening to the tunes playing on the radio, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, when he saw a figure running across the street. It was hard to make it out fully, but he could tell that it was most definitely a female. The frame seemed way too petite for it to be male. No umbrella. A handful of what seemed like papers above your head had to be soaked through by now. Then there was a light shriek, and Joel saw you slipping onto the pavement with a thud. He sat still until his brain had caught up to what his eyes had just seen, and Joel was jumping out of the car in no time.

Your hand was gripping your ankle as he approached you. Hands in front to not frighten you as you looked up at him. The pain was written all over your face. "That was quite a tumble you took there", Joel said while kneeling next to you. "Oh, tell me you didn't see it…", you whined before trying to sit more comfortably but failing miserably. "Would it make you feel better?", he asked, reaching for your ankle after meeting your eyes and getting an approving nod from you. You let out a sharp cry when Joel's tender fingers touched your skin. The throbbing pain only got stronger. He frowned slightly.

"Might be broken this one. We'll have to get you to the hospital", Joel gently released your already swollen ankle before looking around and trying to catch a glimpse of Tommy by any chance. "We?", you asked, even if it was a silly question. "Well, do you have someone else who could take you? The parking lot seems pretty empty to me", he teased back, moving to support your back as he got into a more comfortable position to pick you up.

"I would so slap you if I didn't need your help, you peacock", you grumbled, but Joel only laughed. Laughed and got struck by the realization that he was indeed laughing with another woman. "Right, well, you can sit here and look pretty than", "Don't you dare to walk away", your fingers gripped his shirt as you pulled yourself closer to his chest. Even through the layers of your wet clothes, you could feel his warmth seeping into your skin, making you shiver. Only now realizing just how cool you truly were. "Okay, koala bear", he muttered, tightening his arms around your body as he carried you to his truck.

The house was awfully quiet. Joel looked around the entrance room. Your shoes and coat were untouched. He had kicked one of your heels by accident this morning while he was rushing to get Sarah to school on time. It was laid out just as he had left it. Meaning you had stayed at home. The older Miller scowled. Fridays weren't your days off. And your boss wasn't the one to hand out free days, so something was wrong. Had to be wrong.

Joel left the flowers on the kitchen counter and slipped into the living room. Scanning the room. A blanket lay messily shrugged onto the floor. A shred of evidence that you had indeed been here at some point. "Y/N", he calls out your name softly, not too loudly, just in case you were asleep upstairs. No response. He crept around the first floor, ready to go upstairs until an open door to the downstairs bathroom caught his attention. You always keep that door closed. It annoyed you because if it got left open, the defuser scent slipped into the house. Joel walked closer, and his heart jumped into his throat at the sight.

Your head was resting on the toilet seat. Skin pale as paper. Your breathing seemed labored. Yanking the door fully open, Joel practically fell into the tight space. "Darling", his fingers instantly pressed onto your forehead. It was clammy but not warm enough for a fever. "I'm fine…", you crocked out, trying to open your eyes but failing miserably. "Looks a lot more like the opposite of fine to me, lovie", he says, quick to flush the water in the toilet that you didn't have the strength to do yourself before sitting down by your side, pulling your body into him. You let out a sharp cry. Head lulling back, hitting Joel's chest. The worry inside him only grew. You looked so weak and worn out as if you had been sick for weeks.

"What's hurting, koala bear? Tell me what's wrong?", Joel pushed away the strands of hair that were sticking to your damp forehead carefully. He was starting to get desperate, but you only shook your head and said, "All good, just need a moment", You brassed yourself onto Joel's chest. The dizziness clouded your mind once more, making you lean your forehead onto your boyfriend for support. You could feel the room spinning. Joel said nothing. A part of him wanted to demand an answer, but you were way too cool for it. Then you jerked back, scraping for the toilet once more as you dipped your head, gagging. Joel reached for your hair, pulling it away from your face as he moved to rub your back slightly.

"Go", you said, trying to shove him away with the hand that was closest to him. But you were too tired, and Joel was too strong and stubborn. There was no way he was leaving you in a state like this. "Breathe through it", Joel said to you instead, choosing to ignore your plea. You shook your head, your hand moving down to your stomach as you hunched over. Yet another cry of pain slipped past your lips. Had you eaten something funny? But you all had dinner and breakfast together. Neither he nor Sarah was feeling anything, so surely it couldn't have been food.

"I'm taking you to the hospital", "No", you sat down on the cold tiles, pushing Joel away from you as best as you could. Welcoming the cool sensation of the floor, which eased nausea ever so slightly. But the cold, hot shiver still ran all over your body. Making your hands and legs tingle. "I wasn't suggesting it", Joel said firmly, reaching for you. He was about to lift you, nudging your legs so you would wrap them around his torso when his eyes drifted to a red patch on the gray tiles from where he had pulled you closer to him.

Your eyes followed his gaze, and you gasped, turning to press your hands onto the red patch. "No, no, no", you muttered anxiously. Your eyes picked up tears as you shied away from Joel now. Yes, you two had been together for a bit, and yes, he had a teenage daughter at that house and was probably the only man who wasn't phased by the thought and sight of period blood, but your insides shrink in size at the sight of it.

"Hey, no…", Joel reached for your palms in an attempt to move them from the stick surface, but you shrugged him off. "It's all okay; don't worry about it", he's quick to reassure you. Now it all makes sense to him. You must have been starting to feel off this morning or you must have gotten your period. That explained why you were so restless in the morning. A whole day by yourself like this. You should have called him. Should have let him know. Joel shrugged the towel off the hanger, dampening it in the sink, before he once again got closer to you.

"No, Joel,", you pleaded once more, but the male-only gave you a look. "Lovie, I've cleaned my cum off your legs…", "That's not the same", you cut in quickly, trying to figure out a way to push Joel out of the bathroom. But he just wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling it up to whip it against the damp towel, repeating the motion for your other hand as well, before he threw it onto the floor and scrubbed at the remaining blood.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss on your shoulder. Your breathing was still uneven. Hands were now digging into your lower stomach. He wondered what his next move should be. Sarah had started her period about a year ago. Joel had learned to juggle her emotions pretty quickly. Learned to read between the lines. To provide comfort in all the different ways if she chose to shut her dad out for a day or two. But they talked; they always talked. Joel was used to Sarah coming up to tell him when the sharks entered the ocean. Your limits were still somewhat new to him.

Your body felt heavy. So heavy and weak. Another wave of warm coldness ran through you, and your vision was filled with tiny black dots. "Joel…", you called out lightly, and his eyes were instantly on you. Your eyes only rolled to the back of your head, hands slipping from beneath you as your body bucked forward. Joel was quick to catch you. Lowering you to the floor as he tapped lightly on your cheek.

He doesn't remember the last time he was in the hospital. Well, besides the time he brought you here with a broken ankle. But that was some time ago. Some years of friendship and falling in love slowly ago. You were slipping in and out of consciousness. That was where he had drawn a line. Scooping you into his arms and heading straight for the hospital. A phone in his pocket buzzed. Joel ignored it at first, but then pulled it out, pressing it to his ear. "Miller", he said bluntly, "Dad…".

Joel cursed under his breath. In the chaos of it all, he had forgotten about Sarah. He left the bathroom a mess. There was both vomit and blood in some places. "Hey, baby girl,", he tried to keep his voice calm, "Is uncle Tommy with you, baby?" But Joel's almost convinced that Sarah is now standing by the bathroom door, looking inside. "What happened? Where are you? Where's Y/N?", her voice was trembling slightly. "Go up to your room, baby. We had to go to the hospital for a bit".

The line goes silent, and he knows that she hasn't moved an inch. "Is Y/N dead? She…", "Of course, she is not silly; scrap those thoughts out of your mind. She's got a bit unwell, that's all". He knew that the bathroom looked worse than it was, but then again, he wasn't there to guide Sarah away from it. "Can I talk to her?", she asked almost shyly. Joel let out a sigh. "Doctor is with her, love bug. I'll call you as soon as I can put her on the phone, okay?", Joel assumed that Sarah must be nodding. The sound of Tommy in the background eased his worries. She wasn't alone. Sarah wasn't alone, so that meant that for now, Joel would focus on you.

When the nurse lets him into your room, you're hooked up to the drip. The other arm bandaged where they must have drawn blood. The color has returned to your skin. You're munching on a sandwich that a nurse must have brought for you, smiling at the woman who double-checks the IV before picking up the tray with little needles and things . "Your boyfriend here walked holes in the hospital floor", the elderly lady smiles, patting you on your shoulder. You meet Joel's eyes. Eyes that were still filled with so much worry. Merry said that you looked rough when you just got there. Delusional and all. Had vomited all over yourself during the ride here. The lack of fluids and minimal intake, mixed with a really heavy flow of your period, had made your body shut off for a moment.

"But she's all good; two more drips, and she should be good to go", Turning to Joel, she gave him a warm smile as well before excusing herself. You placed your sandwich back on the tray. Reaching your hand toward your boyfriend. Joel let out a sigh as he stepped closer, taking hold of your hand before pulling it closer to his lips.

"I've gained at least half ahead of new gray hair", he said quietly, leaning against your forehead. You let out a quiet giggle. "Ah, I was wondering what was making you so much more handsome all of a sudden", your words made Joel smile, but the worry lacing his features didn't fade. "You frightened me, koala bear. I thought I was going to…", but Joel just shook his head. Not allowing himself to say those words. Trying to scrape away the image of your unconscious body in his arms.

You moved to run your fingers over his forehead and down his cheek. "Wasn't my intention", you said softly, and Joel nodded. "No, I know just… Should have told me you had started your period. Would have been there for you. Would have helped". Your eyes searched his before you leaned in to pack his lips softly. "I'm not letting you miss your shift because I'm bleeding", "Well, I would. Because you come first. Always have, always will". You shake your head in disbelief at how lucky you are to have a man like Joel in your life. "Eat up; you need to get your strength back", Joel takes the sandwich in his hands, moving it closer to your lips. Smiling to himself as you take a nice big bite. Okay. You were going to be just okay, and you wwere never going to go through any of this on your own. Never let it get to a point like this again.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

TLOU taglist: @theslytherinwriter @daddysfavoritesexkitten @randomstory56 @woofgocows @ohthemisssery

[rip-headphones-users]

pls tell me abt your personal scenelights headcanon/storyline

(Rubs my hands together with evil intent) This is gonna be a long post, everything will be under the cut. I’m still early into my Regretevator mental illness arc so a good chunk of this will more than probably change.

So Kasper and Lampert have been friends since elementary school age (I’d give 8/10 years old).

Their friendship started with Kasper crying over something (he gives strong “i hate my stepdad/stepmom” vibes), and Lampert, who is not really great at soothing emotions through words, distracts him by turning into various objects. Kasper is like YOOOO THIS IS THE GREATEST THING IVE EVER SEEN and from then on out they’re inseparable. Kasper always pushes Lampert to do things he’s scared of, and Lampert will always do his best to calm and ground Kasper when he’s unstable. (I hc Kas as being impulsive, esp when angry/sad) Also, Lamp is just happy to have someone who genuinely enjoys his company beyond the use of a light source for the first time in his life.

Kas did online school, with and lamp being like??? An a young entity of the elevator??? And having like no obligations or responsibilities beyond being anthro furniture, the two of them spend most of their time either exploring/chilling in the infinite rokea, or playing games in Kaspers house.

(Oh boy group angst begins now)

Lampert has almost always had a crush on Kasper, (He cant help it, cute scene boy) and it only got worse into their teens. Boy was pining HARD, and was always pretty sure that Kas never liked him back, or that he was closer with other people.

Kasper? Not so much. He likes Lampert too, sure, but is in the biggest state of denial over it. His search history is full of “is it gay to want to kiss your best friend???” Lmao. He is also terrified that he could ruin his friendship, again- he tends to be impulsive so he’s scared of hurting lamp in any way. He just. Keeps that portion of emotions stuck in there. Tight under lock and key.

Lampert asks Kasper out. Kasper rejects him. They remain close, but something seems… off about Kas sometimes.

The infection takes Kasper slowly after he agrees to let the parasite in. (A whole other set of headcannon I have in mind haha) and things are normal for about a year or so. As the parasite begins taking more resources from him, Kasper begins to drop weight, sleep for 12+ hours in a day, mumble to himself about insane things, and become more forgetful. And Lampert is TERRIFIED. In an attempt to elevate his spirits, he asks Kasper out on a date. Saying that it didn’t have to be something romantic, but just to get Kasper out of his house. He’s practically locked himself in his room for days at a time now.

Infected agrees, having completely forgotten why he was so scared of being with Lampert in the first place. He remembers the emotions of being with lampert, the joy he brings him- but doesn’t know how to place them into memories. He sees lampert as a kind new friend, who he sees and is immediately filled with hard to place unbridled joy- and so happens to know everything about him, how to make him laugh, how to calm him down, his favorite foods and games and places to go… (AND HE’S CUTE??? SCORE.)

LAMPERT. IS. TERRIFIED. He is so, so scared. His best friend, the guy he sees as the love of his life finally reciprocates those feelings with him, but only because he isn’t in the right state of mind to deliver those feelings properly. Lampert is the first to notice infected has taken place of Kasper, and is the first to attempt to being him to a hospital. Infected just kinda discharges himself, he’s an adult now and not necessarily a danger to himself or others (yet). And doctors can’t place what is wrong with him.

So, lampert is holding off on whatever romance he feels towards Kas until he can figure out what’s going on with infected. (Also in tandem with his own germaphobia) he has become extra wary of illness and the spread of germs within the floors of the elevator because he fears the other residents potentially catching what Infected has, or his illness mutating or something.

He also realizes eventually that Kasper and Infected are sorta two things inhabiting the same body. When Kas is more lucid/the parasite has less control, they can be addressed separately. Usually the parasite has more control though, shambling around and using the body as a clumsy vessel.

Lampert absolutely hates the parasite, and will only ever address Kasper as Infected when speaking directly to the parasite (screaming at it for taking his friend from him while it laughs in his face) he is of course, disgusted, but will do anything to save Kas.

Kasper is hardly there mentally. He disassociates whenever he feels infected is essentially piloting him. He hears lamperts voice, but ever only answers when he has the energy anymore. It’s sorta okay though, he did let this happen after all.

Infected is still getting used to existing in a human(?) form. It shambles about like a zombie. The thing can hardly keep its own brain from melting out of his nose. Ofc when it speaks it sounds like a bad mic. Its only recently learned it needs the vessel to eat so that they both live! It likes Lampert though, though he only ever insults it (it finds him funny). Maybe if it learns to act more like Kasper, whatever that means, Lampert might like it too.

So anyway Lampert is in this Queer-platonic relationship with his crush and by extension the parasite pretending to be his crush, because he doesn’t know if the real Kas would truly want to be in that deep of a relationship if he were fully lucid.

(Thanks for coming to my ted talk i hope this makes some sense, I’m way better at explaining things via 100+ pages of fancomic.)

((This took like an hour to write lmao))

Btw this song is them. To me.

[polyamorousmood]

Hey there :)

So I have no problem with my bf dating other people, and recently hes started having sth with someone else. Good for them! Legit, no problem with that by itself

But.. now I'm being left on read a lot, like majority of the time it feels like, no matter the topic or time. I just feel.. forgotten, I think, or replaced idk. But it feels pretty bad.

I dont want them to think I'm jealous or mad, I just wish he would still show me the same attention/care as before. Ive talked about how left on read makes me very insecure, due to fake friends and person past experiences before so I dont want to bring it up again.. but it hurts. Idk what to do?

Bad news, babe. You're gonna have to say something again. The good news though is that you can productively procrastinate it, because there's some stuff I want you to do first.

But before I get into that, I let having a cool opening distract me from very important other things that need said: That sucks, and I'm really sorry, but you can make it through this.

Now then. Time to productively procrastinate a difficult conversation. Look, I'm procrastinating it more by making it a read more! (It, um, it is A Lot. I took "blogging platform" literally on this one😅)

It sucks. Believe me, it bothers me too when I can't hear from my partner📵📴 because they're with my meta. It has been A Problem I've had to work through, so I think I'm actually pretty qualified to give advice on this.

Some of what I have to say is going to smart (old-timey word for sting) a bit, so I want to make it clear that I understand where you're coming from, so you can trust the part that stings is necessary. I imagine its something like this:

You relationship with your boyfriend is great! So great, you're happy for him to have someone else to love! That's. That's so rare and incredible, its a love beyond what most will know. And then he takes that love and wads it up and throws it in the back seat to make room for this new schmuck. The love is still there, it's just... in the back seat. And you never thought that would happen, because the relationship is so good! And you already said something, so you worry you're being a nag, which you don't want, because you ARE happy for them, you're so happy for them... except when you're not because you can't be happy when he can't be bothered to text you back. Its not really so much to ask, and you EXPLAINED why its important to you, so why doesn't he seem to care? You communicated, you did your part, and it was hard and scary! Surely harder than texting you back would be! And you don't want to feel like this, but. There's this anxiety that... shouldn't he want to text you back? Isn't that how he would act if he really did still care about you just as much?

Any of that resonate? I don't know you, so maybe some of it was way off base🎯, I don't know. But I hope enough of it was close enough to right that you know I get it when I say:

This isn't just your boyfriend fucking it up. This is, in part, probably you asking something unreasonable. To give you the exact same level of time an energy as when it was just you too is a big ask. To be able to supercede his time with the other person any time you want is a big ask. If you're only okay with your boyfriend having someone else if it doesn't cut into your time at all, how okay with it are you actually?

So before you talk to him about it, you gotta step back. Its not that you're wrong for feeling sidelined. But a poly relationship just isn't going to be the exact same as a monogamous one. It it were, I wouldn't have bothered making a blog, and I wouldn't have needed to because I wouldn't have a trail of loving, wonderful, burnt to ashes monogamous relationships behind me. Let's take a deep breath together. Pause here if you need.

Now, there are some questions here that do affect what I think would be fair. For example, if you're living with your boyfriend, and he's taking you for granted, always texting the other person when he's with you, you don't have any special time with him anymore, and then when he goes out its radio silence. That's a very different situation from you being in a long distance relationship so texting is your main form of communication/bonding and now he's got a new person that lives near him so he's with them constantly and now, what are you, chopped liver? for example. I'm going to give a list of things you might be doing that's unfair, and I want you to take a minute and evaluate as honestly as you can where you fall on that. This is a self-reflection, not an accusation, so please resist any temptations to get defensive (if you even feel them). I recommend taking out a pad of paper and committing to an answer for each. Some you may not be doing at all! Some okay maybe a little. And some now that you think about it, yeah actually, you're doing a lot. That's okay. You not handling it perfectly is okay, and doesn't mean we can't ask the boyfriend for accommodations still.

Are you valuing 1:1 time with your boyfriend as much as you're valuing (negatively) the time he spends 1:1 (not texting you) with his partner? IE, are you more bothered by him not texting you than you are appreciative when he takes time for you?

Are you texting him compulsively out of anxiety instead of because you have something more important to discuss?

Are you accidentally infringing on his other partner's time?

Are you trying to infringe on his other partner's time to reassure yourself that you're important to him?

Are you texting him to "test" him?

When you communicated that you didn't like being left on read, did you properly convey how big of a problem it is for you and what your expectations were?

When you communicated, did you allow space for negotiation and to work on the problem, or was it more like a list of demands?

Are you misplacing your feelings somehow? Is there something else that's bothering you that you don't feel comfortable bringing up?

Are you letting your anxieties run you? Is there something you could be doing to address your feelings?

Are you forgetting to weigh other allocations or shows of love he's making or you?

Is there anything else internally you might be overlooking in regards to this?

Whew! Heavy stuff. But you made it!🎉 Now, we'll dig into how his actions are making you feel. That last set was about what you could be doing better, and this one will help determine he could be doing better. But just like we weren't making accusations about you, we aren't making accusations about him either. We are assuming good faith on your boyfriend's part. This is still ultimately about your feelings and what reasonable accommodations could be made for them.

Do you feel the time allocation for you vs his other partner is fair? Why?

Does he seem to text them back more than you?

Does it seem like he's not taking your concerns seriously enough?

Does this issue look like a larger pattern? If so, what? How will that look long-term?

Has he made specific promises he hasn't kept to you in regards to this? If so, what were they and how hasn't he lived up to them?

Do you feel he's made adequate time for you to discuss concerns, or do you feel like he tries to rush through them?

Do you think he gave you a reasonably clear expectation of what him dating someone else would look like (or did he make it seem "nothing will change")?

Has he not responded to something critical?

Is there anything else he's done in regards to this that doesn't sit right with you?

You did it! 🎉Now we can officially start working on problem-solving. I imagine that was a lot more than you bargained for, for such a simple problem as "I want a text back," but its important to get everything laid out. This helps in a lot of ways. It helps guard against striking on a "solution" that isn't actually sustainable. It makes sure you're starting a discussion in good faith. And hopefully, it will help minimize having to return to the issue.

For the sake of formatting, we're going to address the questions for you first, then the questions about him, then how to have the hard conversation, then workarounds that you may not have considered that aren't really your or his problem. I actually think that third group has some of the better "quick fixes", if you can find one that works.

Starting with the questions about what you could be doing better, in order, skip any that don't apply:

Re: valuing 1:1 time -- Make active efforts to appreciate the time you do have more. Use this time as a guard against negative thoughts when he is unable to respond ("We spent all day together yesterday, a few hours today without hearing from him is fine")

Re: texting compulsively -- Be more vigilant about self-soothing. I find self-talk to be most effective for me. I cannot possibly cover everything here, but it sounds like it stirs up fears you're losing your partner. Since you cannot guarantee that will never happen, I find it most helpful to reassure myself I will be okay even if I do lose them. Another option is to make a reassurance bank, where you can store and see evidence of his affection without asking it from him. Your mileage may vary. If you really struggle with this, there's always therapy.

Re: accidental infringing -- Be more mindful of what you send. Save things that are non-urgent to discuss later, when you have his attention anyway.

Re: deliberate infringing -- Stop it. It will only strain things and make the outcomes you don't want more likely. See self-soothing. Find something else to distract you that you can put energy into.

Re: "testing" him -- See above. I know, its easier said than done. Do the hard work. That shit can ruin your life.

Re: didn't adequately express importance -- Well, its a good thing we're about to talk about it anyway! Really think through how you can explain how badly it makes you feel. We'll get into that more when we discuss How To Have the Conversation

Re: list of demands -- Well, its a good thing we're going to talk about it anyway! This time, see it as a negotiation. Ask him if that's feasible, or if its too much. But open to trying alternate solutions.

Re: misplaced feelings -- Take the advice on How To Have a Conversation and apply it to the thing that's actually the problem.

Re: managing anxieties -- Again, you'll have to find a way to self-soothe somewhat. That's not to say your partner shouldn't meet you halfway, but you do have to do your half.

Re: forgetting other expressions of love -- Literally make a list of all the things he's done/is doing for you. As many as you can think of. Add to it often. Pick a couple and do a deep dive on why that mattered so much to you and how you felt. Tell him, too. You gotta be grateful consciously, bro. This applies to all of life

Re: anything else -- Take that into account. Work on that, too, however you can. Be honest with him about your shortcomings when you address it.

A lot of these will require upkeep on your part (kind of mirrors🪞how texting you back consistently requires upkeep on his, huh?). Be prepared to discuss the changing you're going to make and have an actionable plan for them. Okay, his turn, same as before:

Re: fair time allocation -- does he need to make more time for you? Do he need to make protected time that is only for you? You said you feel forgotten, replaced, so maybe this is part of it.

Re: unequal texting -- first, consider why. If he lives with you, he's probably going to have to text the other person in front of you sometimes. If you still think its too much, again, protected time for you may be appropriate, he may need to do a better job keeping his New Relationship Energy (NRE) in check. Be prepared to discuss this, possibly including him defending himself!

Re: not taking concerns seriously -- Well, its a good thing we're discussing this again! Make sure you have an actionable, measurable metric he can do to show you progress here. (IE ❌"I need you to care more" ❌ but ✅"When you're unable to respond, I need you to say that you're busy so I know you thought of my needs" ✅)

Re: bigger patterns -- You will have to tell him you're concerned about those too. If it could become untenable for you, this will probably be a recurring discussion. Consider scheduling check-ins where you say one thing you think is going well and one thing you're worried about, for example.

Re: unkept promises -- here, you are super justified in being mad. Try not to be anyway. Try to be curious and interested in addressing the root problem. Ask him what got in his way, what middle ground he's confident he can manage. It is you and him vs the problem, even here, not you vs him.

Re: inadequate room to discuss -- Set expectations before the talk, and remind him of them if he forgets. (IE "I know this isn't nice to hear, but I need you to let me say my piece and talk through solutions, even if it takes awhile." and "I said I needed to talk through the solution. This sounds nice, but I'm concerned about X. How can we make sure that doesn't happen?") Consider reserving specific time to discuss it, consider reserving recurring time to discuss any problem, if you need it.

Re: didn't set expectations appropriately -- ask. Ask what this would ideally look like to him. If he's having trouble getting started, point out some differences you've already noticed, and ask if he thinks those are the new norm.

Re: didn't respond to something critical -- Establish a way he can see what is critical and what isn't. This might be texting something that can wait, but calling for something important, for example.

Re: anything else -- address that too. Give him a chance to explain himself. etc.

Okay, you've done everything up to this point alone. You're prepped. Now How Do You Have The Conversation?

For this type of stuff, I recommend the WIBS format. That is, "When [something happens], I feel [feelings] Because [explanation] So could you please [change]". But of course, it can't be that simple either. Critically you CANNOT say "you" before the "so could you please". The example I'm about to give is going to use the texting issue specifically, but if you've done the soul searching and found there's a bigger problem you want to address (which ngl, sounds like there might be something bigger based on what you sent), adjust accordingly! This is good general advice for any tough conversation. Anyway, here's what that might look like on the texting thing:

"When I am left on read, I feel anxious and betrayed, because I've had a lot of friendships completely fall apart, and that's always how it started. So could you please make a point to text me something when you read my message, even if its just 'lol' or you saying you want to discuss it later."

But wait a minute! That doesn't include any of the bullshit I just made you do. What the hell am I trying to pull? Okay okay, so we have to modify this a bit. Our new format is going to be something more like this: "When [something happens], I feel [feelings and impact], because [explanation]. I have tried [things you've tried], and I am still struggling because [reason why that hasn't helped, including what you could do better]. So I was hoping to look at some more solutions, like, would you be willing to try [change]." Which might in practice look something like

"When I am left on read, I feel so anxious and betrayed I start spiraling thinking the relationship is doomed, because I've had a lot of friendships completely fall apart, and that's always how it started. I have tried dropping some hints and self soothing, and I'm still struggling because this is a really bad anxiety that I didn't have to deal with before recently and even with the hints I'm not getting the response rate I would like. So I wanted to talk about it and see if you'd be willing to try making a point to text me something when you read my message, even if its just 'lol' or you saying you want to discuss it later."

And then! The discussion continues. Maybe he says "oh my god, yeah, I didn't realize it was bothering you that much, absolutely I can do that" and maybe he says "I'm with you all the time how is this still a problem?" or maybe its "actually, [other partner] gets really anxious when I text, which is why I don't respond unless its important. I figured I could talk to you about dinner plans any time" and whatever the case is, you keep talking until you've set on clear goalposts and have reassurance they feel okay to all parties. So in order, your responses might be something like "are you sure you can manage that? I was really worried by my hints not being picked up on that that was the reason", "I know its a problem. That's why I'm talking to you about it. If that's not a good solution to you, let's come up with something else, because the way things are is really hard on me," and "okay. I don't want to make [other partner] anxious either, but this isn't working for me, can we find something else to try?"

Allow him to explain, be prepared to explain more yourself, and be willing to try a variety of solutions. Acknowledge

Is this my longest post yet? Maybe! Wild. Let's top it off with something easier: The Hack Solutions🧑‍💻. Sometimes, anxiety isn't logical, and goofy workarounds can be super helpful! Here are some off the top of my head, but feel free to get creative, too! Not all of these may be feasible, not all of them may help. But a lot less work than some other solutions so worth mentioning!

You said being "left on read" is what bothers you. Can you just... turn off read receipts? Or switch to a messaging app that doesn't have them? Can he just not read your texts until he has the time to respond?

A lot of phones have a driving mode, that will send an automated reply to texts. Can he turn that on when he's with his other partner so you get a reply like "hey I'm busy rn, but I'll text back later!" and would that help?

If you just want to feel more involved, maybe it would help if he just like, took a picture of his pizza to send to you. Reminds you you're thought of, doesn't require conversation.

Something that I've done with friends is write like, a dozen short affirmations/reassurances, and have them keep them in a special spot. When they need to feel loved, they can take one out to read. This has worked PHENOMENALLY for them, and still protects your partner's time away while allowing you to get love direct from your partner WHENEVER you want.

Can he just kick it with you both concurrently?

Can you have a friendship with your meta where you text THEM like "tell [bf] to text me back real quick" and then your bf doesn't feel bad about texting in front of the other partner because they're telling him to do it?

Classically condition yourself. Like, every time he leaves you on read, eat a chocolate. And then sometimes instead of it being "boyfriend won't text me :(((" it'll be "oooo! candy time!"

ai yai yai! That's all I have, though! Come back if you need help working through some specifics. I'm very happy to help however I can. Its not your fault you're struggling with this. Most polyam relationships have to deal with this to some extent, but with a little effort, you can make it through. Best of luck to you, friend. 💙💖🖤

[acerathia]

drowning in you || Rafayel | Qi Yu

Summary:

Valentinesday doesn't work out, does it?

Wordcount: 2.5k

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Qí Yù | Rafayel / Reader | MC

Tags/CW:

established relationship, dancing and kissing in the rain, flirting, bathing and washing each other, non-sexual intimacy, references(spoilers) to Mainstory and Myth, Moles as lasting kisses from the last life, implied sexual content after fic, domestic fluff

Note:

Happy Valentines!! I wrote this bc I go insane for him oops

With a little smile, you let your phone slide back into your bag. Rafayel has told you to come to the park nearby, and you wonder what he’s planning, hopefully not another trip on a boat, the simple memory makes you shiver. After that incident, you would never trust him with an oar ever again. But because you’re supposed to meet him at the entrance of the park, you assume it must be something slightly drier.

– where r u? ive been waiting for ages

omw! close to the entrance of the park –

You round the last corner, and immediately spot his figure, arms crossed, close to the park. For a moment, you take your time to look at him, the way the sun shines between his hair, giving him some sort of underwater feeling. But you can’t help but squint when you notice his attire, one you have seen before, one Rafayel usually wears when meeting for some art stuff of his. You brush it off, it’s usual for him to wear something that draws the eye, being an artist and all, he does love showing his aesthetic with his clothes.

He seems to have sensed you, because he turns in your direction, and while you smile at him and hurry your steps to get closer to him, his lips push slightly forward.

“Finally, I thought you had forgotten about me! Did you look at the time? It’s been ages, I feel like I’m about to see fish walk on land,” he mutters the moment you stop in front of him.

“Well, I think I already see one,” you grin, before cupping his cheeks carefully. “In fact, this fish is right in front of me.”

The pout doesn’t disappear entirely, but it does soften as he leans closer to your skin. “See? I was right, you’ve left me waiting for too long.”

A huff of breath hits your face softly before he straightens up, not even waiting for your answer as he takes your hand in his, entwining your fingers together. “It doesn’t matter, you’re here now. Let’s go.”

Hand in hand, you both enter the park, and follow the path for quite some time. You have no idea what Rafayel wants to show you, so you only walk by his side, simply enjoying this quality time while looking around the place in peace.

The park seems huge, as before you both even arrived at his set destination, you begin to feel something cold hitting your head. You scrunch your face and look up, only for a drop of water to hit your cheek, your eyelids. You blink in surprise as the rain falls, multiplying with each second, with each step.

A groan, and your gaze immediately flicks to Rafayel, who’s gingerly holding a hand over his head. “Great, now everything is ruined… Did the weather forecast make a mistake? I even checked it for today” He turns to you and meets your eyes. “Let’s go back, c’mon.”

He sighs, disappointment apparent in the way his shoulders slump. “I guess, we’re going to make it up another time… Let’s hurry up and escape this annoying rain.”

You squeeze his hand as you follow his brisk steps into the direction you both came from. “It’s okay, spending time with you is more than enough for me.”

Your words only seem to make him walk faster, the rain hitting your face softly, and you can’t help but slow down slightly.

Laughing, you can’t help but tease him. “But let’s slow down a bit. You’re not going to turn into a mermaid the moment water touches you, are you?”

He turns around to face you, his face scrunched up in a pout. “How ridiculous! That only happens in those TV series. And we’re both already wet, wouldn’t it be too late to consider that anyway?” He cocks his head to the side, before a smug look takes over. “Unless you want me to turn into one to ogle at me, hm? Wouldn’t you like that?” With these words, he leans closer towards you, a grin over his plush lips.

Your eyes flick towards them before returning to his eyes, his lashes clumped and longer with the dripping water. You feel a heat creeping up your neck, and now you’re the one with a small pout on your lips. For a moment, you don’t have any comebacks, so you decide to do what always works the best.

Your free hand grabs his shoulders and you stretch slightly towards him. Your lips meet his. And despite the cold water, his skin is warm against yours. Without missing a beat, his arm sneaks around your waist, pulling you closer, stealing another peck before you could fully pull away.

Once there’s some space between your faces, you can’t help but grin at the redness spreading over the tips of his ears, but you want to see that color over his cheeks. So, you put your lips against his cheeks, closer to his ears.

“Of course I want to see you naked,” you whisper at him, and he immediately pulls away, the color bleeding into the rest of his face.

He holds his hands in front of his face, shielding it from your view. “Wh-what are you talking about?” he stammers, taking a small step back.

You can’t help but think how adorable he looks this flustered, but you stop teasing him, as the rain makes you feel cold, and you imagine he starts feeling the same. Taking his hand once again, you step closer to him and let your forehead rest against his chest.

Almost immediately, despite his embarrassment, his arm winds up against you, his face hot against the skin on your neck. Your other hand comes up to stroke through the wet strands of his hair, now closer to a darker blue when soaked like this.

You don’t know who starts it, but you both begin to slightly rock, a small dance under the rain, interlocked, heart against heart, listening to a tune only you both could hear.

“Let’s go home…” you whisper against his skin, feeling the goosebumps over it.

A sigh on your own skin, and he straightens up, his gaze wandering over your face, filled with something complex, something that warms you despite the cold seeping into your clothes.

Once he nods, you both are on your way again, heading towards the closest apartment of one of you. It doesn’t take long, and you’re glad to be out of the rain, because the moment you enter your home, the rain picks up, the wind sweeping over the streets. You really don’t want to know how it feels to be there.

Soaking wet, you begin to strip yourself of your shoes and socks. “I’m going to take a shower to warm up,” you tell him, and without words he just follows you on your heels.

It’s a burdensome task to get rid of the wet clothes sticking to your skin, but you manage it nonetheless. The heat of the turned on water is already spreading through the air, and you’re almost excited to get under it. With your focus on the upcoming warmth, a squeak of surprise escapes you, when you feel his cold fingers around your waist, his lips against the back of your neck.

You turn your head slightly towards him and kiss the corner of his lips, your fingers intertwining with his, before you fully turn around, your fingers carefully helping him out of his wet clothes, scattering soft kisses here and there over his cold skin. After that, you wordlessly pull him with you to stand under the warm rain of the shower.

For a moment, you let the heat seep into you, relax your muscles, before you grab the shampoo bottle. But instead of slathering it onto your own hair, you motion for him to lean down. Once he does, you put a good portion of the shampoo into his hair, and begin to massage it in, spreading it over his scalp and hair. You watch as he closes his eyes, leaning closer to you.

After you’re thoroughly done, you let him lean his head under the water once again, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair with soft strokes, your hands taking care of each strand, massaging his scalp. Once everything is truly gone, you grab one of your conditioners to take a bit of into your hands, spreading them over your palms before you begin to rub it into the ends of his hair.

A low hum sounds from him and he shuffles a little closer, his hands finding your waist, as always, keeping them there to anchor himself.

Allowing the conditioner to set, you grab his loofa, the one he has deposited ages ago, making himself at home in your home, sharing it with you. Making sure the foam has spread properly all over it, you begin to gently scrub his skin, his shoulders, his arms. You can’t help yourself but scatter some kisses here and there, on his jaw, on his neck.

Coming up to his chest, your eyes lock onto the tiny mole there. “Did you know, some people say that moles are an indication of where our past love has kissed us, over and over again,” you whisper against his skin before kissing the mole softly. “I will love you, for all of my lifetimes, over and over again… And I want to give you something to remember this one, and every one after…”

You’re vaguely aware that you have met Rafayel in your last lifes. And even if your memory is hazy, pieces coming up to you in blurry dreams, you know that you have loved him, and you will continue to love him, for as long as time allows you to exist.

You look up to him, his eyes wide, glazy with swirling emotions. Instead of saying anything, he leans down and catches your lips with his in something sweet, filled with love, of the past, present and future. You melt into his touch, into his warmth, into his steady presence. There isn’t another place you would love to be more than at his side.

For a moment, you let your thoughts focus on him, on the way he calls your name, on the way his ears blush when flustered, on the way he teases you with so much affection.

One last peck, and you continue with your endeavor, gently scrubbing his skin, massaging the tension out of his muscles.

After you make sure that he’s relaxed and clean, you once again guide him towards the water, letting the water glide over his body, warmth seeping into him and relaxing him a bit more. You gently grab his hair and massage all the conditioner away, until all that’s left are his pretty strands of hair.

Your lips meet his forehead, before you turn to take care of your own hair. But before you could even grab the bottle, he does, a bit of the liquid on his palms to slather onto your hair.

With the amount of knowledge he has on you, on your routine and day to day life, he manages to perfectly take care of your hair, his fingers carefully moving on your scalp, caressing the tension there out of your head.

A sigh escapes your lips and this time you’re the one stretching closer towards him, arms around his waist.

Rafayel rinses your hair carefully, each strand flowing through his fingers, and you enjoy each touch of his. Especially when he swipes your hair away to reveal your neck, placing a soft kiss there.

Despite being done, you both stay like this for a moment, his face against your shoulder, your fingers drawing random symbols on his skin, intertwined, skin to skin, warmth to warmth.

Just when you notice your fingers getting prune, do you turn off the water, reaching for the towels to dry up. You pass him his own, and watch as he dabs the water away, before wrapping it around his waist. You begin to feel a little bit warmer when he reaches up to swipe his hair away from his face, running his fingers through the strands, making them stick like that.

You turn around to take care of yourself and leave the bathroom to step into the bedroom, one supposedly belonging to you, yet filled with his trinkets and clothes. You step around some paint brushes clustered on the ground and grab a shirt and other clothes.

Once you put them on, you notice how the shirt belongs to him, something he has left behind after one of his escapades from the journalists. You don’t take it off though, rather you turn towards him as he pulls his pants on, a soft piece of clothing, perfect to sleep in.

His eyes glance up to you, getting stuck on his shirt on you, and you smile as you watch the redness bleeding into his ears, into his cheeks.

He crosses his arms, looking away. “So, you’re now also stealing my clothes now?”

You raise your eyebrows at this. “Uhm, what else have I stolen from you, Rafayel?” you ask, well aware that everything scattered around your place is due to him bringing it over. You can’t say you don’t love seeing his stuff around your place, though. It makes it more livelier, happier.

At your words, he turns around and begins prancing towards you, and you take a step back, your shins hitting the edge of the bed. He leans closer to your face, his eyes running over your face, admiring every single feature of yours, almost like his eyes have landed on an artwork.

You suddenly feel shy under his gaze, so you try to lean back, but when you try to do so, you end up falling onto the bed, sitting on the edge of it.

Instead of letting up, Rafayel puts both his hands on the side of your thighs, supporting himself on the bed to follow you.

“How dare you forget. You have stolen my heart, over and over again,” he whispers against your lips, before dipping in and taking a taste of your lips once again.

A small laugh of yours is drowned by his lips, as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him with you onto the bed. Drops of water fall onto your face from his wet hair, yet you don’t care at all. All that matters is him, Rafayel in your arms and his lips on yours.

With a puff of air, he lands on you, and as the kiss breaks apart for a moment, you take your time to admire his face, the soft lips, his translucent eyes, almost glowing every time he catches your gaze. He doesn’t give you much time, though, before he kisses you again, and again, each kiss making your heart thump with excitement, with all those emotions he manages to awaken in you.

And you’re happy to be the one waking up by his side, spending every lifetime as the person he loves. To be the person who loves him truly in every life.

You can’t help but shudder when his lips move over your jaw to your throat, when he softly murmurs against your skin.

“Let me drown in you…”

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Short And Sweet

Bradley Bradshaw x short!reader (because im short and ive always loved it lol) 1.5k words 

summary: Bradley is much taller than you. And when the jar of jam you need just so suddenly happens to be on the top shelf, he reminds you why you love that so much. 

disclaimer, i wrote this in the span of two hours with legally blonde on in the background so idk how much sense it makes

top gun masterlist | top gun blurbs

(i HAD to use this gif even if it doesnt fit like. LOOK AT HIM)

Flying was freeing. Freeing in ways that you couldn't describe. Up in the air, you didn't have to worry about anything down there - anything stressful or straining or terrifying. You could be yourself with every fibre of your body. Adrenaline, pure adrenaline, pumping through your veins. Your heart hammering so strongly that you could feel it, hear it. The sound of your own laughter in your ears as you sped up, up and up, until you were going so fast that there was no one faster than you in the world, the entire world, no one faster. Chasing the clouds, the sun, the skies. Being so absolutely free.

And not that you felt bad down on the ground or anything. No.

But up in the air, you belonged. You'd known that this was where you were supposed to be, had always been supposed to be, the very first time you’d ever started a plane.

And the records mirrored just that - the fact that this was what you were supposed to be doing.

You'd worked your way to the top quickly. It had taken a lot, of course, you'd never pretend that it had been easy at any point. But you couldn't imagine ever taking a different path. So you weren't surprised that you'd ended up at Top Gun, and you weren't surprised that you'd graduated top of your class. No, you had worked hard for it, and you deserved it.

You weren't surprised either that you counted as one of the best, the very best, and not only in your year, but on active duty. It was flattering, sure, it was nice to hear, nice to know, and you were proud, but you still weren't surprised. This was who you were.

You were never surprised when it came to the navy, to your career. So you weren't surprised either when they called you in for a mission - back to Top Gun, back to San Diego where it had all started.

The very first time that something surprised you in all those years was when you caught sight of Bradley Bradshaw.

And then things continued to surprise you.

Now, as you stood in the kitchen of your very own apartment, the room filled with laughter and chatter, you were surprised by a jar of jam. More specifically that the jar of jam had somehow vanished from the fridge.

You needed this thing for dessert. Where the fuck could a jar of jam have disappeared to?

Apparently to the highest kitchen shelf, because that's where you spotted it a minute later.

You huffed to yourself, blowing a strand of hair away from your face that had fallen into your eyes. Someone must have used it and then forgotten that opened jars belonged in the fridge. And that someone probably had been your boyfriend.

You set your palm flat against the counter, pushed yourself up on tiptoes and reached out with your free hand, trying to grab the jar and failing miserably. You pushed up a little more, straining at this point, still not even grazing it with your fingertips.

Okay, so you minded your height a little sometimes. Like right now, for example, as you debated the odds of climbing up on the counter top without breaking your neck. 

“Want me to lend you a hand there, baby?”

You rolled your eyes as you pulled back and turned to look at him - one of those stupidly attractive Hawaiian shirts on, sunglasses hooked into the collar of the white top underneath, looking way too innocent for the crime he’d committed. 

“This is all your fault, Bradshaw”, you complained, pointing a finger at him accusingly. “Admit it, you put it there on purpose. You and I both know only your things go on the top shelf.” 

He was grinning, not even trying to mask his amusement. You just huffed again and narrowed your eyes. 

“If you don’t want my help...”, he trailed off and took a step back, pretending to go and leave you alone here, fighting for your life against a jar of jam. 

“Oh no, no, definitely not, we are not playing this game. You admit right here, right now that you put it there on purpose or... or you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

His face fell at that and he stepped closer again, reaching for your waist and tugging you to him, leaning down to bury his head in your neck. His breath was hot against your skin. 

“Don’t be mad, baby”, he whispered, pressing a kiss just below your ear, so soft that you almost missed it. “You’re just too cute.” 

You gasped and hit his arm, drawing back to look at him. He was basically hunched over - so pretty much on the same level as you. 

“I’m not cute”, you protested. “Baby kittens are cute. I’m an adult human woman. I’m not cute.” 

He chuckled and kissed the tip of your nose, tilting his head to the side. “You are. Very.” 

You couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. He saw it too, even as you did your best to hide it. His grin widened. 

“Admit it”, he muttered. “You like that I’m tall enough to reach the shelves that you can’t.” 

“Almost everyone’s tall enough to reach things I can’t.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m short, Bradshaw. I’m literally shorter than anyone else on the squad.” 

He just raised his eyebrows as you bit your lip and avoided looking at him, instead pretending that the tiles were very interesting. Actually there was some dirt on there, so that was interesting, because you’d specifically told everyone to take off their shoes before they came in. 

“Okay”, you muttered eventually, meeting his eyes again. “I do like that you’re tall.”

And then another thing that surprised you happened. Not because he leaned down to kiss you, not because you almost knocked his sunglasses onto the floor as you reached for his collar and pulled him closer, not because he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off of your feet, but because in that very moment, Jake Seresin decided to make his grand appearance. 

He needed another beer. 

He whistled when he caught sight of the two of you kissing, whistled so obnoxiously loud that you broke away in panic, so loud that Phoenix appeared in the doorway as well to check out what was happening. So loud that the rest of the squad perched in your living room turned and tried to peek through the door too. 

Bradley still had his arms around you protectively, your toes were still not touching the ground and your hands were still gripping onto his collar, but you’d both turned to face Jake with wide eyes.

“Hooking up in the kitchen now, I see”, he grinned. “Better not get anything in our food.” 

“We weren’t hooking up”, you said, just a little breathless from the kiss. 

“Yeah, mind your business, Bagman”, Bradley added, angling you away from the door. You didn’t understand how he was holding you up so effortlessly. Even a man like him had to have some limit as to how long he could lift an entire person - but no. Apparently not. With how often he’d carried you around the apartment already you were beginning to think he had some kind of superpower.

“Just make sure to be safe, you two.” Jake had the audacity to wink. “You know, use protection. We need you both up in the air for another few years.” 

You and Bradley seemed to take away two very different things from that. 

“I’ll have you know we’re very responsible adults”, he said, while you grinned and asked “You need us?”. 

Jake just scoffed, grabbed himself a new can of beer and marched back off into the living room. Phoenix stayed in the doorway with a quiet laugh on her lips. 

“You two are watching the food, yes?” She raised an eyebrow. 

“I think we’re able to multitask”, you said, resting your chin on Bradley’s shoulder as you looked at her. He turned you even further, setting you down on the kitchen counter, settling in between your legs. You watched her shake her head and walk back into the living room and then you saw nothing but that Hawaiian shirt anymore and you had to guess if the smile you’d spotted on her face had actually been there. 

You had to tip your head back to look him in the eyes. He rested his hands beside your thighs, lowering himself just a bit. The silence was comfortable - although it could hardly be called silence with all the chatter coming from the next room - not heavy or forced. Eventually you sighed and leaned against the cupboard behind you. 

“Will you grab the jam for me?” 

The only answer you got was a chuckle and you were surprised once again as he leaned down to kiss you, hesitating just before his lips met yours, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards, swerving right, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. 

“All you had to do was ask, baby.” 

[mopeyy]

Forgotten Love (Last Part)

Nor x Fem Na'vi Reader

angst/fluff

Summary: Reader is in love with Nor, but he's still in love with her dead sister.

Inspired by this post!!

You and Nor use to speak everyday, but now you've went a full week without talking. After your confession there was just no point in speaking to him. You knew he was going to reject you and you didn't need to hear him say it. It would hurt too much. Of course you missed talking to him, he's your best friend. But you couldn't look at him knowing that he didn't feel the same.

He hadn't made any attempt to speak to you. Mostly just looking at you from the corner of his eye. Or sharing a forced smile when you passed one another. It was exhausting really, but neither of you tried to fix it.

--------------------------

You had recently took down a big RDA drilling facility, reducing the pollution percentage by a significant amount. So tonight the resistance was celebrating. The headquarters were filled with colorful party decorations and dancing music. You knew the humans were having a good time, but it didn't really feel like you needed to be there. You turnt to leave before hearing someone calling your name. "Y/n! y/n!" it was Teylan. He came running over to you, Cleary excited about the party. "Where do you think your going? this party is all about you." He smiled, nervously adjusting the cap on his head. "Im just going out to get some air Teylan. Ill be back in soon." You promised. He exaggerated a long sigh and told you to come back soon as he walked away. You softly shook your head and laughed at teylans antics.

You walked outside and found yourself sitting at a little pond that leads towards the waterfall. it was a nice kind of quiet, the only noise being the muffled music from the party. It was dark, allowing you to see all the stars in the sky. When you were in the RDA they didn't let you and the others outside much. they were scared that if you saw what was out there it would tempt you all to run away. After escaping the RDA you were never anywhere but outside. You stared at the pond in front of you, watching how the water would ripple when a little fish swam by. You smiled, dipping your legs into the pond for the cool relief the water gave you. You couldn't believe the RDA had kept this world from you for 15 years.

After a while of sitting there you heard foot steps behind you. You didn't turn around, you already knew who it was. "Done with the party?" Nor took a seat beside you and raised his brows in question. You only took a quick glance at him before turning your attention back to the water. "Yea, it's kinda hard to dance with all the tiny people around." you smiled, turning to look at him. He was already looking at you. He laughed and shook his head, "I guess it wasn't the best idea to put Na'vi and people into one room." He joked. Silence overtook you as neither of you knew what to say. You played with your hands trying to distract yourself from the awkward atmosphere. Nor cleared his throat to get your attention, "Listen y/n I...about what happened that night-" you cut him off, "Nor I already know what your gonna say and its just going to hurt more if I hear it so please don't." He shook his head and placed a gentle hand on your arm. "You don't know what im going to say, so please just...listen." he pleaded.

You nodded and he slid his hand off your arm. "I was thinking about everything and I wanted to apologize. Ive always admired Aha'ri and her bravery, and I may have had a small crush on her when we were kids. But that's all it was, a childish crush. That night when you found me, I was scared. Scared of how new everything is. I think I was talking about her because I wish I had some of that bravery too. Ive been thinking about what you said and you're right. You have always been there for me and I was too blind to see it." He saw how your attention was focused on the sky. He put his hand on your chin, turning you to face him. His green eyes piercing, as if they could see right through you. "If you'll let me, id like to be there for you too."

Your ears twitched, revealing the emotion you were trying so hard to hide. You had thought that he came out here to reject you, but it was the complete opposite. You wanted him to feel the same way about you, but you had to make sure it was for the right reasons. You tilted your head up at him and opened your mouth to speak, "Nor, I don't just want to be a reminder of my sister. I want you to want me, not just be with me because you can't have her."

He shook his head, his eyes saddening at your worries. "y/n believe me, that is not it at all. I want you. I want your smile, your laughter, your humor, your kindness, your beauty. You. Not anybody else." He reassured you.

You smiled at him, letting out a soft laugh. "Well then you can have me." He smiled at this and leaned in as your lips met. You had never thought things would end this way but you didn't mind as the kiss deepened and your hands combed through his hair. You knew now that everything would be alright.

Tagslist!

@avatar-of-envy-levi

[deardiary1899]

king of new york is a catchy af song but i like to think it emphasizes something about race

i always found it as something that represented their wants and are somewhat expressions of them internally--

Race: A pair o' new shoes with matchin' laces <- Race wants something practical? I mean, in some productions, his socks don't even match!!!!!

Romeo: A permanent box at the sheepshead races <- Surprisingly, Race was supposed to have this line but was changed in the Broadway production. It's one of the main things I found interesting in the lyrics.

and, honorable mention to Davey:

Davey: A regular beat for the star reporter!

Davey's kindness is shown here. He prefers to move the attention to Katherine, and what he wants is never really mentioned

Anyhow, Ive read from another post that the boys are sharing these things according to what the other person likes, and that, is very cute and i love it, but I unfortunately cannot see it that way myself when it's with Race. Romeo may have said that line for Race, but, the lines Race sings in Carrying the Banner sort of correlates with his lines in KofNY. The said Race's lines in CtB are as follows:

Curdled Coffee / Concrete Donuts / Sprinkled with mold / Homemade / Biscuits / Just two years old

I am a true believer that the lines characters are chosen to sing are important to who they are, and I will find it endlessly curious as to why these are the specific things Race would list out, when most of the newsies at this part, something they want/that's currently happening/general observations or whatever. It's just so,,, curious to me how he speaks of THOSE things?? they're definitely not something they want, and it's poetic as FUCK??? like WHO hurt you mr higgins

It makes me think of Race as someone who is somewhat practical. I mean, outside of being sort of rowdy, excitable and the like, he's, without a doubt, smart af and like his historical counterpart, quite aware.

Race: Am-scray, punk / She's the king of New York!

Katherine: Whod'a thunk! I'm the king of New York!

Newsies: We was sunk, pale and pitiful

Katherine: Bunch'a wet noodles

Katherine & Newsies: Pulitzer's poodles!

Les: Almost about to drown in the drink

Buttons: When she fished us out

Race: And drowned us in ink!

Am-scray is one of my favourite parts here. Maybe because it was sung by Race but It’s Pig Latin.

I have NO Idea how common it is to learn that in the 19th century– but considering in Newsies (not as historically accurate) the boys don’t get a proper education other than Davey (but in a more historical perspective, they did. somewhat.), It’s EXTREMELY important to me how he knows such words like ‘Hoi-polloi’ (GREEK!!!), Am-scray and Gratis (LOOK i dont know how common words like that are, because im not a native english speaker and DAMN i don't know the usual 19th century lingo, but to me, it was a big big word)

Even more, his wit is shown well in the line ‘and drowned us in ink’. I’ve been obsessed with that since I heard it, and I’ll never get over how it is a BEAT that you can skip to in writing. It’s such a smooth and witty way to say that Katherine’s writing had helped them, and that ‘drowning in them in ink’ led them to get the fame they got (front page of the papers).

It’s also bitterly sweet to note that seeing their faces on the front page was more than enough to have them all tap-dancing, and although they may be forgotten the next day, it was all the worth.

this is all over the place, and moreso a ramble, but I REALLY wish we got more of Race because these specific things keep repeating in my mind ALL the time. I would ALSO like to state that Race was a HUGE driving force in this. I could write a WHOLE essay about him but kiss his ass and slap it because after getting hit around by oppressors and police, he knew they needed at least a moment of relief !!!!!!

TL;DR: I have a crush on Race Higgins and I need him real NOW