#okay its nearly 3 am time for bed

[cat-dragron]

Now that episode 8 is out o have to make that Murder Drones video essay holy shit.

Like from the overall character arcs to the music and it's leit motifs to the use of color there is just so much I would love to talk about honestly!!!

God im so glad that a show like this got to exist and he made.

[meadowfics]

cryptic

kang dae-ho x f!reader

one of the scariest things happens to you after leaving the games

warnings: cryptic pregnancy, near death, at the time I am writing this season 3 is not out yet, angst, comfort at the end

when you entered the squid games, the last person you expected to see was dae-ho.

your heart nearly stopped when you spotted him in the crowd for the six-legged pentathlon.

you had to take a double take before starting the race with your group..

yup, there he was...broad shoulders, haunted eyes, and that same furrow in his brow you used to know so well.

he froze when he saw you up there ready to play with your own group, his lips parting in disbelief, but the guards didn’t give either of you time to process it.

the game began, and survival instincts took over.

you had the fastest group, luckily.

you completed the jegi game and ran to the finish line as everyone cheered for your group.

however, your ears tuned out everyone except for dae-ho, who made sure that you witnessed his support.

waiting for his group to come back to the dorms was torture for you.

its been nearly six-months since the last time you saw your ex-boyfriend.. however, you still loved him.

he broke up with you, and you had an idea as to why.

he felt like you deserved better, in terms of finding someone who had a bit more masculinity.

you never wanted that, or anyone else.. you always wanted your dae-ho.

a glimpse of relief was caught in your eyes when his group, the last group, entered the dorms.

he spotted you and gave you a light smile, before he turned away, retreating back to his group.

you wanted to talk to him, but what could you possibly say?

throughout the night, the exhaustion that settled over you wasn’t just from the constant fear of death but from the hunger you couldn’t shake away.

those pitiful trays of food barely sustained you, and your body craved more.

you kept with your group you had in the six-legged pentathlon..

when someone in your group couldn’t stomach their meal, you always took it, masking your desperation with a lighthearted

“don’t want it to go to waste.”

deep down, you hated that you were lying, but survival had its price.

dae-ho was always watching you, even when you weren’t aware of it.

he kept his distance, knowing how complicated things were between you two, but his protective instincts never faltered.

when you almost stumbled into danger during one of the nightly fights that broke out.. he was the one who grabbed your arm.

he pulled you to safety underneath his bunk before you could get hurt.

dae-ho didn’t say much, just a light, “stay alert, don't play any heroics,” before disappearing again.

the rebellion with the guards was a turning point.

the chaos had triggered dae-ho’s ptsd, and he was trembling, muttering under his breath about orders and mistakes.

when you witnessed him dropping the jacket full of gun magazines, you jumped up from your bunk bed to jog over to him.

007 nearly did too, but you stopped him.

"I got it.. ju- just stay with your mother."

approaching dae-ho, it broke your heart to see him like that because it reminded you why he left you in the first place.

the reason for the breakup is because he thought his brokenness from the marines would be too much for you to handle.

he pushed you away before you even knew how to help.

this time, you refused to let him spiral alone.

“dae-ho, look at me,” you said softly.

you tapped on his knee while rubbing his elbow softly, some physical reassurance while his ears were blocked by his strong hands.

“you’re not in the marines right now. you’re here, on this bed.. with me..."

you mumbled...

the man flinched hearing you, which caused you to nearly flinch as well.

did he think that you were going to hit him??

"we’re going to get through this, but you need to come back to me, okay?”

it took a long moment, even after hyun-ju came back, but your voice reached him.

after a while, his breathing steadied.

the next games were brutal. human chess left you rattled, knowing how easily a single wrong move would’ve ended you.

during the monkey bars game, you thought you were done for. every muscle in your body screamed, and it felt like your arms were going to give out at any second.

as a teenager, you had superior upper body strength.. whats so different now?

your arms were shaking for those last few bars, but at least you are alive.

when you collapsed on the other side, you were still shaking.

dae-ho was there in an instant, crouching beside you and muttering something you barely caught.

“its okay, you're okay, you made it. I'm here,"

it was a miracle that both you and dae-ho made it to the end.

his group—jun-hee, myung-gi, hyun-ju, and gi-hun—were all battered but alive.

you were the sole survivor from your group, most of them dying during dongdaemun.. and the weight of that loss lingered heavy in your chest.

when the games finally ended, and the guards began preparing to release you, dae-ho pulled you aside. his hands were rough but gentle as they grasped yours, his voice low and urgent.

“i didn’t think i’d survive this, let alone see you again. but we did, and i… i want to fix things. if you’ll let me.”

his words hit you like a wave, and you knew there was no denying the truth anymore. despite everything, you still loved him. you missed him. you wanted him back in your life.

“okay, we can fix this--”

you said softly, your voice cracking.

"but dae-ho.... why did you leave?"

you nearly cried, thinking about the last time you saw dae-ho before now.

the way he left your apartment, the way you could not eat for days, you wanted to make sure that something like that did not occur again with him.

"it was not you, like I said-- I thought you deserved better than me.. someone who was stronger than me."

the man frowned.

you placed your hand on his strong bicep, just on top of his marine tattoo.. your other hand went to his face.

"dae-ho, you're the strongest man I know. even if that wasn't the case, I do not want anyone else.. ever! I just want you."

you say.

at this point, the guards start taking everyone away to go back home.

“meet me at our cafe spot in seoul on november 16th!!!"

the last thing you remembered was the sound of his voice before the guards released the gas that knocked you out.

the impact of hitting the pavement still lingered in your body as you woke up, tied up, and blindfolded.

the cold concrete under you only added to the disorientation, and your heart pounded as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

all you could see is black.

then, a voice...soft and filled with concern...called out.

“oh my god, are you okay? hold on, let me help you.”

the blindfold was pulled away, and you blinked against the sudden light.

the woman in front of you had a kind face, her brows furrowed in worry as she quickly untied the ropes around your wrists.

“who did this to you?”

“i…” you paused, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“thank you. i don’t even know.”

"do you want me to call the police for you?"

"oh no, its okay do not worry about that!"

she helped you sit up, her hands hovering as if afraid you might collapse again.

“what’s your name?”

your mind raced, but you dodged the question.

“what’s today’s date?”

her expression shifted to confusion.

“it’s november 7th.”

november 7th. you exhaled deeply, relief and anxiety warring within you. nine days until november 16th.

nine days until you’d see dae-ho again. far too long, but at least you knew where to be.

time in the games had been meaningless, stretched and warped in the absence of phones and clocks.

as you stood up, you glanced down at yourself.

your old clothes were back...a black windbreaker jacket, green cargo pants, a black shirt, and your worn out adidas sambas.

it was strange to be out of the green tracksuit you had grown accustomed to, the one that labeled you as player 399.

instinctively, you reached into your pockets and felt something solid.

pulling it out, you saw a golden debit card. you stared at it, baffled, knowing it hadn’t been yours before the games. with shaking hands, you excused yourself.

“okay.. well i’m fine, really. thank you for helping me. i just… i need a moment.”

the woman hesitated, clearly unsure about leaving you alone.

“are you sure? you don’t look fine.”

“i’ll be okay,” you insisted, forcing a smile.

“thank you again.”

only six steps away, an atm caught your eye. you slid the card into the machine, your hands trembling.

the screen loaded, and when the balance appeared, your breath hitched. 11,398,890,025.33 won.

its the money you won in the games, split between the survivors..

before you could process the shock, a sharp pain shot through your stomach.

it felt like a punch, but there was no one there.

the pain grew worse, twisting and radiating until you doubled over.

“ahhh!” you yelped, clutching your stomach as the cramps intensified.

your knees buckled, and you collapsed, gasping for air while clenching your teeth.

the woman hadn’t gone far and came running back at the sound of your cries.

“hey! what’s wrong? oh my god, are you okay?!”

she knelt beside you, her panic rising as she saw the state you were in.

“i don’t know,” you choked out, tears welling up as the pain overwhelmed you.

“it hurts—my stomach—”

“okay, okay, stay with me. breathe! i’m calling an ambulance.” she pulled out her phone, her voice trembling as she gave the dispatcher your location.

“hang in there, okay? help is on the way.”

the pain was unbearable, and your vision blurred, the edges going dark as you struggled to stay conscious.

the faint sound of the woman’s voice and the distant wail of approaching sirens were the last things you heard before everything went black.

waking up, you felt a strange tightness around your stomach and a dull ache in your body.

the beeping of machines surrounded you, and cords were attached to your belly. you blinked, your heart racing as you noticed an iv in your arm.

panic set in when you realized your clothes were gone.

sitting up too fast, you scanned the room. relief washed over you when you spotted your jacket draped over a chair.

the golden debit card was still tucked in its pocket. you exhaled shakily, clutching the fabric for reassurance.

the door creaked open, and a doctor entered..a woman with a kind face and a soft smile.

“hello! I love to see that you’re awake. that’s good,” she said gently.

“please, lay back down. you need to rest.”

reluctantly, you complied, your mind still racing.

“what happened? why am i here?”

the doctor grabbed a clipboard, jotting something down before meeting your eyes.

“i need to ask you a few questions first by obligation... how have you been feeling lately? any nausea, fatigue, or changes in appetite?”

you frowned, her questions making no sense.

“i don’t know… i thought it was just stress. why are you asking me this?”

her expression softened, and she set the clipboard aside.

“miss. l/n… you’re in labor.”

the words hit you like a freight train.

“what?!” you gasped, sitting up again, ignoring the ache in your body.

your hands instinctively flew to your stomach.

“that’s not possible. i didn’t even know i was… i mean… i can’t be pregnant!”

the doctor gave you a reassuring look.

“your bloodwork confirms it, and you’re already in active labor. you didn’t notice the signs?”

you stared at her, your mind spiraling. sure, you had a small bump, but you chalked it up to overeating during the games.

you never connected it to something like this.

“you’re 36 weeks along,” she continued gently.

“it’s a bit early, but your baby seems strong. we’ll monitor you both closely since you haven’t had prenatal care. it’s a girl, by the way.”

the revelation stole the air from your lungs. a girl. you were carrying a child...a child you hadn’t even known existed.

your heart pounded as reality crashed down on you.

“oh my god,” you whispered, tears welling up.

the doctor reached out, her tone soothing.

“is the baby’s father here? do you want us to call him?”

you shook your head, panic rising.

“i don’t know how to contact him. i don’t even have a phone.”

“that’s okay,” she said softly.

“we’ll make sure you have support. we can arrange for a doula to be with you during delivery.”

the next few hours blurred together. the contractions came faster and harder, and you clung to the voices of the doula and two doctors, their encouragement keeping you grounded.

after two hours of pushing..

“here she is,” the doctor said, placing the tiny, squirming bundle on your chest.

you stared down at your daughter, your breath catching. she was beautiful, with the softest features... dae-ho’s nose, his eyes, his face in miniature. but her lashes and lips were yours.

“hi, baby,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks.

she was quiet and calm, looking up at you with wide eyes. after the chaos of the past week, her presence felt like the first peaceful thing in your life.

the doctor explained that your stress likely triggered your early labor, but at 36 weeks, your daughter was healthy enough.

as the hours passed, you couldn’t take your eyes off her. she was perfect, even though the circumstances were far from it.

the looming question hung heavy in your mind...how were you going to tell dae-ho?

he was the only man you’d ever been with, the only person who could be her father.

without a phone or any way to contact him, the thought of reuniting with him felt impossible.

clutching your daughter close, you whispered a silent promise.

no matter how hard it would be, you’d find a way to tell him. he deserved to know, and your daughter deserved her father.

november 16th felt surreal as you approached the cozy cafe where you and dae-ho had agreed to meet.

your daughter was bundled up snugly in soft layers, her tiny face peeking out from the ivory blanket that kept her warm against the autumn chill.

the weight of her in your arms felt grounding, a reminder of how much had changed in such a short amount of time.

stepping inside, the familiar aroma of coffee and pastries filled the air, pulling you back to the times you had spent here with dae-ho before everything fell apart.

your eyes scanned the room until they landed on him.

he sat at a table in the corner, wearing one of the casual outfits you remembered so well...a simple black jacket over a gray hoodie and dark joggers.

it was such a stark contrast to the green tracksuit you had last seen him in during the games.

when his eyes lifted and met yours, they softened, lighting up with a mix of surprise, relief, and joy.

then, his gaze dropped to the baby in your arms, and his expression froze, his eyes widening in shock.

he stood as you approached, his movements hesitant but filled with emotion.

“hey,” he greeted, his voice quiet but trembling slightly.

“hey,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you stopped in front of him. you glanced down at your daughter, then back at him.

“she’s yours.”

dae-ho’s breath hitched as his eyes locked onto the tiny bundle in your arms.

“mine?” he asked, his voice cracking.

he reached out cautiously, his large hands trembling as they hovered near her, afraid to touch but desperate to hold.

you nodded, gently placing your daughter in his arms.

“yeah. she’s our daughter, dae-ho. eight days old.”

the moment he held her, his composure shattered. his hands cradled her so delicately, as though she were made of the most fragile glass.

a tear escaped the corner of his eye as he looked down at her, his lips parting in awe.

“you were pregnant?” he finally managed to ask, his voice thick with emotion.

you nodded again, swallowing hard.

“i didn’t know. not at any point throughout the nine months.. not until after the games, when they dropped me off. i thought the cramps were just stress, but then… i went into labor. the doctors said I had a cryptic pregnancy, their first ever in their careers actually.”

dae-ho looked at her tiny face, taking in every feature—the little nose, the faint dimple in her cheek.

“she looks just like…” he trailed off, blinking rapidly.

“she looks like my second oldest sister.”

“she does,” you agreed softly, watching the way your daughter gazed up at him with pure love in her sleepy eyes.

his voice cracked as he whispered,

“i should’ve been there. i should’ve…” he paused, guilt flickering across his face.

“i wish i had known. i’m sorry i wasn’t there for you.”

you shook your head, reaching out to touch his arm.

“dae-ho, none of this is your fault. the circumstances… none of it was in our control. you’re here now, you have us.. and that’s what matters.”

he looked up at you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“i promise you,” he said, his voice firm but filled with emotion, “i’m going to be here for both of you. no more running, no more excuses. we’ll be a family, and we’ll put everything from the games behind us.”

you nodded, tears streaming down your face as you watched him hold your daughter like she was the most precious thing in the world.

her tiny fingers curled around his thumb, and his heart seemed to melt at the sight.

the three of you will make it this work. you’d leave the trauma of the past behind and move forward

together.

masterlist

[amaiwrites]

ITS JUST A KISS

Monoma… is broke. That is, until, he starts working part time in Recovery Girl’s office by copying her quirk. It’s all going well until a certain someone shows up with injuries that need to be healed…

inspired by this post! monoma x fem!reader, fluff <3

word count: 1.6k (!!!)

“Kirishima, Y/n— you’re up next.” 

Y/n takes in a deep breath before she steps onto the platform. Today’s class is combat practice, and students were put in pairs assigned by Mr. Aizawa. Y/n’s up against Kirishima— and he’s great! But that’s the problem. He’ll definitely be a tough opponent. 

“Whoever gets the other to step off the platform first— or to surrender, will win.” 

Kirishima gives Y/n a determined grin as he hardens his arm, and Y/n returns the favor as she powers up her own quirk. 

“And… fight!” 

Kirishima throws a punch, Y/n dodges. Y/n kicks Kirishima’s leg. Kirishima gets a hit in on Y/n’s side, then Y/n punches him right in the chest. It goes on like this, each of them landing hits one after the other. Everyone is watching the fight closely, excited to see who will win in the end. Then, a loud noise is heard, causing Y/n to turn her head. 

“I am here!” All Might exclaims, and Y/n gets a tiny bit distracted from her fight because, hello, it’s All Might! 

Wait, focus— fangirl about All Might later! She looks back over to Kirishima, and his hand flies right out to her face. She stumbles backward, and falls onto the green grass next to the platform. Right out of bounds. 

“Kirishima wins this round.” Aizawa says, “Y/n, are you okay?” 

“Yeah…” Y/n didn’t hit her head on the ground or anything, but she puts her hand on her forehead and sees that it has some blood on it. 

“Ah, shit. Sorry Y/n! I didn’t mean to hit your head like that, it wasn’t very manly of me.” Kirishima offers his hand out and helps Y/n stand up. 

“That’s okay,” she smiles, “nothing Recovery Girl can’t fix later. Good fight!” 

The cut on her head wasn’t bad enough to cause great concern, but Aizawa sent Y/n down to Recovery Girl’s office anyways. 

Dang, I really wanted to see Momo go up against Uraraka, Y/n thinks as she knocks on the door to the nurses office. 

“Come on in.” A voice— definitely not Recovery Girl’s voice, says. Y/n cautiously opens the door, only for her eyes to meet—

“Monoma?!” 

“Y/n? How delightful to see you here!” Monoma welcomes her inside, warm smile on his face, but Y/n is still skeptical. 

She crosses her arms. “What are you doing here?” 

“Recovery Girl was kind enough to let me work part time in the nurses office.” Monoma smirks, “The best part about it is that I get to see how many of you 1-A idiots end up in here injured! Not nearly as many Class B students get hurt like—“ 

“Now, now, calm down Monoma. You’re supposed to be helping.” Recovery girl says, and Y/n tries her best not to laugh. “Heal her cut for me, will you dear?” 

Monoma’s smug demeanor seems to fall, his eyes going wide as his head turns to Recovery Girl. “Heal her? But— it’s just a small cut!” 

“Wait, how would he heal me?” Y/n cuts in. 

“Well, as you know, Monoma here can copy quirks,” Recovery girl explains, “I’ve had him copy my quirk so he could heal non-emergency people. This way I can go be right on the scene of classes like yours, where bad injuries are prone to happen.” 

…Interesting. Besides his quirk, Monoma is the least suitable student to be helping out like this. From what Y/n has seen, Monoma only likes to help his classmates, and definitely notClass 1-A. 

“Speaking of, I’m off to find your class now. They’re outside on the platform left of the main building, yes?” 

Y/n nods. “Take good care of our patients, Monoma!” The door closes behind Recovery Girl as she leaves the nurses office.

And now it was just the two of them. 

Monoma sighs. “Sit.” He says, pointing towards one of the doctor’s beds in the room. 

He always has so much attitude, Y/n thinks, but she sits where he told her to anyways. She would leave, but it’s probably not the best idea to leave her cut unattended. 

Stupid Monoma. His ‘I’m-better-than-you’ attitude and that smug smirk that’s always on his face is so… ugh. If he was less of an asshole, he’d be cute. 

Wait, what am I even saying??

Monoma isn’t cute. He’s not. Y/n hasn’t thought that, not even for a second—

“Damn girl, this cut’s worse than I thought.” Y/n almost jumps at the sound of Monoma’s voice next to her. He stands in front of Y/n, placing various medical items down next to her. When he’s done with that, he frowns. “Who did this to you?” 

Y/n studies Monoma’s expression. Usually he’d be teasing her, saying that with his idiotic smirk on his face. Call her crazy, but he almost looks… worried? Weird. 

“Kirishima,” She answers, “it was an accident though! I got distracted and his hand slipped.” 

Monoma grunts in— understanding? Disapproval? Y/n doesn’t know. 

“Idiot.” Monoma mutters, and Y/n’s not sure if he’s talking about her or Kirishima. His hand taps Y/n’s thighs. “Spread out your legs.”

She gives him a suspicious look. “My cut’s on my head, dummy.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” He pushes her legs apart himself, and then he stands between them. “See? Now I can get to your cut easier. Dummy.” 

Monoma takes a wet cloth and starts to clean around the cut and he— well, he smells nice. That might seem like a random thing to say, but he is right up in Y/n’s face right now, which is being flooded with the smell of subtle cologne. He just smells nice. 

Y/n usually keeps her distance from this guy, but he isn’t that bad up close. The Monoma that Y/n sees right now isn’t the obnoxious little shit that’s always talking trash about 1-A, but a concerned… classmate? Friend? 

And, Y/n has to admit to herself, maybe he’s a little cute. Just a little bit. It’s totally the blue eyes— or the hair. Or the voice— Okay, not gonna think about that anymore. 

Monoma puts the cloth down, his eyes meeting Y/n’s. “I’m gonna kiss you.” 

“What?!” Y/n exclaims, her face quickly turning pink. Where the hell did that come from? Monoma just laughs. He gently takes Y/n’s face in his hands and kisses her forehead. 

Wait. Copying Recovery Girl’s quirk… he was just kissing me to heal my cut, that makes sense! Y/n hadn’t realized that until now. 

His quirk must’ve malfunctioned somehow, though, because that kiss didn’t make Y/n feel better. It made her heart start beating really fast, and— is it hot in here? Because Y/n definitely feels hot. 

Oh. 

Monoma’s smirk appears back on his face. “Y/n, are you blushing? Aww! Want me to kiss you again?” 

“Shut up!” Y/n’s eyes go to anywhere in the room, just not on him. Shit, she can’t like Monoma! The guy that, like, all of your friends hate? That hates you? Well, isn’t that just great. 

Monoma’s still standing where he has been, right in Y/n’s space. It’s not helping. She finally decides to look back at him, because he probably should have moved away by now. He really should, before Y/n does something that she’d regret. 

“Oh,” He says simply, taking Y/n’s left hand in his. “You’re bleeding here too.” He wipes the blood off of Y/n’s hand with a cloth, then presses his mouth to her palm. Another kiss, yet there wasn’t even a cut on her hand. That was just blood from her forehead. 

“Um… there’s no cut on my hand.” Y/n points out, and Monoma just nods. 

“Great observation, Y/n,” He teases, “I’m aware of that. I just wanted to see if your face could get any redder.” 

Y/n rolls her eyes. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that to get me to blush.” She says, despite her now red face. 

“Alright then,” Monoma starts, leaning in just a little bit closer. “guess I’ll have to keep trying then.”

“I…” Before Y/n can stop herself, she glances down at Monoma’s lips. I’m about to do something stupid, aren’t I? “Y-“

“Y/n! Are you in there?” Ochako knocks on the door, startling both Y/n and Monoma. Y/n quickly stands up as she walks into the room. “…Monoma? What are you doing here?” 

“Oh, Ochako! Who won your match?” Y/n asks, partly to take the attention off of her but mostly because she’s curious. 

Ochako grins and puts her hands on her hips. “Me! Momo was quite the tough opponent though, I just barely won…” She shrugs. “Speaking of class, Aizawa sent me to find you. We should hurry back, Deku and Bakugo are up next!”

If you know Izuku and Bakugo, you know that this fight is going to be intense. It’ll definitely be entertaining to watch too, which is why Ochako grabs Y/n’s hand and starts to lead them back to class. 

Y/n tries to look over her shoulder at Monoma, but Ochako closed the door on their way out. 

“Hey, what was Monoma doing in there?” Ochako asks. 

Almost kissing me, Y/n thinks, but she probably shouldn’t say that. “He’s… working for Recovery Girl. Copied her quirk and stuff.”

“Whatt? I never would’ve imagined him as a nurse, he doesn’t seem like the type of guy to help others like that…” 

Y/n nods in agreement. He didn’t seem like her type either, yet here he was making her all flustered. 

Seriously, out of all people, Neito Monoma?

You’re an idiot, Y/n. 

should I make a part 2? 🤭

[matchpointfaist]

tis the damn season ; art donaldson

cw; drinking, smut!!, art and reader are really kinda pathetic <3

if i wanted to know who you were hanging with

while i was gone i would have asked you

it's the kind of cold, fogs up windshield glass

but i felt it when i passed you 

there’s an ache in you put there by the ache in me 

but if it’s all the same to you, it’s the same to me

five years ago

“hey, stranger,” you can practically hear art’s smile through the phone, “how was your day?” you roll onto your back, phone clutched in your hand like a vice, “it was alright. just cramming for finals,” you sigh softly, “hows stanford?” “god, it’s incredible,” he laughs, “i wish you were here. you’d love it, baby. it’s like a movie,” you hum in response, ignoring the ache in your chest that had made its home there the day he flew out, “how’s training going? do you have any matches soon?” “oh, it’s great!” there’s that smile again, “i’ve got a match tomorrow, actually, so i should probably go soon. it’s at 7 am,” 

“that’s good,” you smile to yourself, “do you feel good about it?” “yeah, i think so. coach says i’m gearing up to do really well this season,” he says proudly, and your chest aches again at the thought of missing it. “i’m sure you will,” you try to keep your voice even, “well i’ll let you get some sleep, i love you,” “love you more,” he murmurs, “goodnight, baby,” 

art texts you the next morning to inform you he ‘killed’ his match, attaching a poorly taken photo of him grinning ear to ear, gold metal ribbon around his neck. it’s little crumbs like this that keep you sane, keep you feeling close to him, ever since he left. ‘knew you’d win! you’re so cute. call later?’ you reply, your cheeks pink as if you’re texting a crush rather than your boyfriend of two years. ‘course i will’ he replies, and you’re already counting down the minutes until the nighttime routine you’d grown accustomed to. 

at nine oclock, you lay across your dorm bed, eyes practically glued to your phone screen as you wait on art’s nightly call. by nine thirty, you’re mildly annoyed, and by ten, you’re worried. you pick up the phone, pressing call on his contact, biting the inside of your cheek as you listen to the phone ring. he picks up after a moment, the music in the background nearly drowning out his voice, “hello?” 

“hey,” you try your hardest not to let your irritation bleed into your tone, “did you forget to call?” “fuck, baby. i’m so sorry,” you hear shuffling, and the music gets slightly quieter, “patrick invited me to this party since we won this morning, it totally slipped my mind,” “it’s fine,” you tell him slightly too quickly, “just have fun, kay? i’ll talk to you tomorrow,” “wait- are you sure?” he sounds confused, and you wonder if its the alcohol or the change in your tone that’s thrown him off. 

“yeah, of course,” you hope your voice sounds as light as you intend it to, “we can talk tomorrow night, it’s okay. have fun,” “okay, i guess,” he sounds so hesitant you start to think he might just leave the party, “well goodnight then. i love you,” “night. love you too,” you hang up before you can talk yourself into begging him to stay on the phone. the next night, he calls at six oclock sharp, and you can tell the entire phone call that he’s eager not to upset you. 

he’d always been that way. he’d do something, just one tiny mistake, and spend days apologizing or being extra sweet to fix it. you’d lost count over the years of just how many grand gestures he’d made, of how many times he’d professed his love for you for no reason other than to get back in your good graces; not that he’d ever left. 

you and art were cheesily in love, so high school in the way that you couldn’t keep your hands off of eachother, couldn’t go a day without speaking. you were practically sewn at the hip from sophomore to senior year, even applying to colleges together. when he got his offer from the stanford athletics department, you didn’t think much of it. he seemed flattered, of course, but you never thought he’d actually go. 

he loved boston, he loved his family, he loved you, so it made no sense when he came over one afternoon, admission letter in hand, and a wide smile on his lips. “i accepted their offer!” he’d told you, ever so proud, “they gave me basically a full ride, as long as i stay on the team and keep my grades up. can you believe that?” 

you could believe it, of course. everyone knew how wildly talented art was, from such a young age. he’d started playing tennis at his parents country club when he was just a kid, and eventually worked his way up to attending a tennis academy not far from your high school. he had promise, drive, ambition, and a naivety just subtle enough to make him an excellent candidate to be pushed too far by coaches. 

you’d known, then, that things would change between you. everyone told you nothing would happen, you two were meant to be, but you could feel it. he’d be across the country, practicing incessantly, playing matches, attending parties thrown by teammates you’d never meet. and you’d be home, working for a degree that might help you make a name for yourself. 

over the course of a few months after that party, the calls grew less and less frequent. by summer, you were lucky to hear from art more than once a week. you knew he was busy, of course, and tried to ignore the way bitterness coated your tongue with every word you said to him on your brief calls. you tried to ignore the way he talked about all the friends he’d made, friends that you didn’t know at all, and tried to ignore the way he barely sent you photos anymore.

the one thing getting you through was the promise of summer break with art. two short months together, to pretend everything was back to normal, that you weren’t living completely separate lives. you woke up at six am sharp the day of his flight home, eagerness keeping you from sleep, and picked up your phone to call and see when he’d be landing. he answered after four rings, his voice raspy from sleep, “hello?” 

“good morning!” you replied cheerily, “when’s your flight?” “oh, hey baby,” you heard some shuffling before he returned to the phone, “uhm, i actually was just gonna call you about that,” “is everything okay?” your cheery tone slipped, dread festering in your stomach before you could even place why. “yeah, of course. i just meant to tell you, coach wants me to do some training over the summer. he thought it would be best if i stayed here, just for this first year, for some extra drills and stuff,” 

you sat silently, tears pricking your eyes, as you listened to his excuse. “so what, then? you’ll be home for a month shorter, or?” “i won’t be able to make it home at all this year, honey. i’m so sorry, but you can come stay with me, yeah? i’ll buy your ticket, it’ll be just like we planned,” your heart broke even further at how optimistic he sounded, as if he hadn’t just shattered your expectations of the summer, of your reunion. “i have work, art,” you said quietly, “you know that. i have to make up for being off through the school year,” 

“you don’t need that job, baby. come on, come see me,” “no, art!” you argued, your brows pinched in frustration, “i do need this job, actually. some of us don’t have trust funds, believe it or not. jesus,” your words came out sharper than you intended, all the hurt and anger from the last several months finally revealing itself. “i’m sorry,” he said after a moment, “this is really important to me. this is my shot, yknow? i can’t mess this up,”

“yeah,” your voice was bitter, but you truly did understand, “i get it. stay there, it’s for the best,” “i’ll come home next summer, okay? it won’t be like this every year,” he sounded like he was pleading with you, and it took all your control not to snap at the irony of it. “art, i think it’s best we don’t keep trying to make this work. you need to focus on your tennis and school and i need to focus on mine, and let’s just call it even, okay? we had a really good run,” 

“a good run?” he repeated incredulously, “are you trying to break up with me?” “i am, yeah,” you hoped you sounded confident in your answer, “i just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to draw this out any longer than we need to,” “what the fuck? where is this coming from? is this about the summer?” he sounded so genuinely confused, so lost, and it only angered you further. “it’s just not working, art. everyone warned us long distance wasn’t a good idea,” 

“baby, please,” he was practically begging, a slight whine in his voice that you knew all too well. “no, i’m sorry, okay? but it’s done,” “you can’t just-” “bye, art,” you hung up before you could talk yourself out of it, letting yourself cry as hard as you’d wanted to for months now. you curled up in bed, sobs wracking your body, and mourned the relationship with a boy you’d once thought you’d marry. 

you thought he’d text or call, tried to prepare yourself to reject him again, but the contact never came. he listened, for once. art donaldson had completely slipped out of your life, without a trace.

three years later, you graduated top of your class, landed your dream job in journalism, and moved to an apartment in the city. you tried your best not to keep up with art’s achievements, but it was difficult when he won nearly ever tournament he stepped foot into. he made all the sports headlines, and you turned your head at each of them, hoping to convince yourself you never even knew him. 

i parked my car right between the methodist 

and the school that used to be ours

the holidays linger like a bad perfume 

you can run, but only so far

i escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave

but if that’s okay with you, it’s okay with me

current

you returned home for the holidays, driving down from the inner city to your parents home on the outskirts of boston. about three miles out, you’re lost in thought, music playing through your speakers and snow dusting your windshield. you’re jolted when you hit a deep pothole, cursing under your breath when your tire pressure light kicks on. 

you pull over into the closest parking lot, grabbing your coat and stepping out of the car to survey the damage. “fuck me,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration when you see the tire’s gone flat. you’re in the middle of trying to pry your spare out of the trunk when headlights illuminate the area around you, and you hear a car crunching over the snow. 

“you alright, miss?” a man calls, his voice sharp in your ears against the quiet of the evening. “just got a flat, i’m taking care of it,” you reply, not bothering to look back over your shoulder as you yank your spare free finally. “it isn’t safe to drive on a spare in this weather,” he tells you, and the slight crack of his tone raises the hair on your arms, the familiarity seeping through you deeper than the cold breeze. 

you turn, finally facing the stranger, your breath in your throat. there he stands, his blonde hair peeking out underneath the hood of his puffer coat, his cheeks tinged pink from the wind. “art?” you exhale, your heart suddenly racing in your chest, “what are you doing here?”

“oh,” he looks as startled as you feel, his blue eyes widening ever so slightly, “i was just passing by on my way to my parent’s, i saw a car and thought you’d need help,” “i’ve got it,” you say too quickly, “i’ll call my dad to pick me up, don’t worry about it. thanks, though,” 

“i can take you,” he offers, gesturing to his car parked just feet away, still running, “it’s on the way, anyway. i don’t mind,” “i think i’ll just call my dad,” you argue, “you can go, okay? i got this-” “please just let me take you home,” his tone sounds like you’d be doing him a favor, not the other way around, “come on, i’ll help you get your stuff, i’ll fix your tire tomorrow,”

you never could say no to his puppy dog eyes, even after all these years. so there you sit, shivering in art’s too nice car, trying not to look at him as he drives you home like he had so many times before. “it’s good to see you,” he says finally, breaking the silence, and you hum in response, unable to muster up any real conversation. 

“i moved back,” he says after a few more minutes as he turns the corner to a main road, “i don’t live here, but it’s not far. i live in the city near the university,” “congratulations,” you mumble, trying to keep your tone dismissive, anything to lessen the nostalgia you’re surely both feeling. 

“hey,” he sounds as if he’s pleading, and you allow yourself one glance to his side of the car, taking in the way he’s biting the inside of his cheek, the sadness in his eyes. “yes?” “i just wanted to say it’s good to see you,” he says softly, “i mean, what’re the odds, yknow? we’re both back home and i just happened to see you. it’s like fate,” 

“yeah,” you agree quietly, “fate, sure,”

so we could call it even

you could call me babe for the weekend

'tis the damn season, write this down

i'm stayin' at my parents' house

and the road not taken looks real good now

and it always leads to you in my hometown

he pulls into your parent’s drive, keeping the car running but leaning back in his seat to look over at you. “you look good,” he says after a moment, “not that you looked bad before, obviously, it’s just, you’re beautiful-” “shut up, art,” you cut off his rambling, “it was sweet of you to drive me, but thats all this was, okay? this isn’t fate. it’s just a coincidence,” 

“even if it is just a coincidence, i’m still happy to see you,” he says quietly, “is that not okay? i missed you,” “shut up,” you repeat, “you didn’t miss me, that’s- this whole thing is ridiculous, okay? enjoy your holiday, art,” “wait! can’t we just talk? i mean, even if its not tonight, we could catch up,” he pleads, eyes wide and borderline frantic. you shake your head, opening your door and pausing to glance back at him, “merry christmas, art. please don’t call,” you go inside trying your best to pretend nothing happened, dodging questions about the car in the driveway and greeting your family. the look on art’s face as you closed the car door keeps you from any real christmas spirit. 

you wake the next morning to a text from an unsaved number, your brows furrowed as you open the notification. ‘i know you said you don’t wanna hear from me, but i just wanted to say i’m sorry and it was really nice to see you. wanted to give you a fair warning, your parents invited my family to their christmas party tonight.’

you groan, tossing your phone on the bed and getting in the shower, ignoring the butterflies nerves, in your stomach at the idea of seeing art that night. by six that evening, you’re slightly tipsy off of spiked eggnog, trying your best to ignore him from across the room. he’s there, blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes and a stupid christmas sweater that reminds you far too much of the first holiday you spent together. 

you hate the way he mingles with your family so easily, like nothing ever happened. the way he laughs at your dads jokes, the way he’s sipping wine with class he must’ve learned at stanford. the way he keeps looking your way, smiling tenderly, the way he eventually approaches you with all the hesitation of a high school crush. 

“you look beautiful,” is the first thing he says to you, sounding almost pained by it. “thank you,” you hope you sound cordial, hope he doesn’t pick up on the way your hands shake around your glass, the way your cheeks are already pink. you tell yourself it’s the alcohol and not the scent of the cologne he’d been wearing all those years ago, the last time you’d seen him. 

he looks around, gesturing to the decorations, “good party,” “we don’t have to do this small talk shit,” you say after a moment, “it’s in the past, alright? let’s just get through the party and we’ll all go back to normal,” “don’t you see i don’t just want to get through the party? i’m trying to talk to you here, okay? i missed you, i just wanna catch up,” the pleading is back in his tone, accompanied by his trademark puppy dog eyes, and you find yourself following him onto your parent’s balcony with no hint of the hesitation you’d been full of earlier in the night. 

“i saw you on tv,” he tells you after a few minutes of small talk, sipping his drink and glancing at you, the wind rustling his too perfect hair. “yeah?” you smile ever so slightly, “what for?” “it was a news station, i saw it at the airport. you were reporting on the protests in new york,” he smiles back, and your chest aches at the sight. “i’m not usually on tv, i just write the stories, but it was cool. glad to know it’s getting good airport coverage,” you joke, “i’ve seen you on tv a few times myself. wimbledon and all,” 

“yeah?” his smile widens, “and what’d you think?” you pause, and you’re not sure if its the eggnog, the nostalgia, or his vulnerable expression, but you find yourself being honest. “i thought you were incredible,” you say softly, “the way you play is just amazing, art. always has been,” “thank you,” you choose to ignore the crack in his voice, “you have no idea how much that means, to hear you say that. that you still even think that,” 

“congratulations,” you smile around the rim of your glass, “you’ve won every competition i’ve even heard of. that’s a big deal,” “none of that matters,” he waves a dismissive hand, “i don’t wanna talk about tennis. i wanna hear about you,” “my life is pretty boring,” you shrug, “i write columns and go home and think about work. that’s really all,” “you’re not- are you seeing someone? i figured you’d be married or something,” 

“no,” you laugh like its ridiculous, because truthfully, it is. you’d loved him so much that it made the idea of trying to love someone else seem pointless. in the back of your mind, you’d always thought you needed to let it go, to move on, but you never found the time or the willpower. forgetting him and learning someone else was a move you were never prepared to make. “me neither,” his voice snaps you from your thoughts, “not since-”

“i’m sorry i broke up with you,” you blurt out, “it was shitty of me to do it over the phone like that, and i’m sorry,” “oh,” he blinks, looking slightly caught off guard, “no, i mean, it was my fault. i get it, looking back. i’m sorry i didn’t fight harder,” “you were a really good boyfriend,” you say quietly, blinking away hot tears, “like, the perfect boyfriend. it was just too much, being away from you, and i felt like it was just a matter of time before it ended anyway,”

“i never planned on leaving you,” he says softly, “i hope you know that. i loved you more than anything in the world, and i know we were just kids, but i really, really fucking loved you. more than tennis, more than stanford, more than any of that shit. i didn’t care about my future if you weren’t in it, but then you removed yourself from it and i figured i could at least just keep going,” 

“i know,” you nod, because you genuinely do know. you know he loved you, how much he cared about your relationship. a moment passes, and you can feel his eyes on you, your heart picking up and a fresh flush prickling your skin. “you are so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and before you can think better of your decision, you’ve set your drink down and turned to him, all your logic gone out the window. 

“this is a bad idea,” you tell him, but you’ve already taken a step closer, “and i’m only in town for a bit,” another step, “but i missed you so fucking much, art,” “come show me how much you missed me,” he smiles, his eyes almost as dark as the sky around you, “let’s make up for lost time, yeah?”

you kiss him in an instant, and everything else seems to fall away as you feel his lips on yours for the first time in years. he tastes like sparkling wine and chapstick and everything you love about the holidays, about home. he kisses you with the same desperation he’d always had back then, his hands digging into your hips and pulling you flush against him. 

the reality of the evening starts to sink back in as hands progress lower, and you pull away, panting softly against his lips, “cant fuck you in my parents house,” “aw, come on, it’ll be just like old times,” he murmurs teasingly, trailing his lips down your neck. “art,” you whine, “we can’t,” “they’re all busy with the party,” he murmurs as he nips below your ear gently, “do you want me to stop?” “no,” you answer easily, “let’s just- can we go to my room? someone’s gonna see us out here,”

you end up in your old bedroom, sprawled out on the comforter kissing art with a feverish desperation. “missed you so fucking much,” he groans as you unbutton his pants, slipping your hand into his boxers, “god, thought about you all the time,” “yeah?” you smile against his lips, “thought about me all the way in california?” “fuck- yeah, i did,” he bucks his hips into your hand, his cheeks pink, “everyday, every night,”

you hum, satisfied, trailing your kisses down his chest and sliding down the bed, “where you going?” he asks, his brows furrowed. “you don’t want my mouth?” you ask, gazing up at him as you push his boxers down, “no,” he smiles hazily, “no, baby. missed you too much for that, just c’mere. let me fuck you,”

you nearly cry at that, the warmth flooding your chest at his words despite the overall nature of what the two of you are doing. you kiss him again, leaned over him, and he pulls you up into his lap, scooting up to prop himself up against the headboard. 

“come here,” he mumbles between kisses, positioning your legs to straddle him, “do you wanna do this?” “‘course i wanna do this,” you nod, and he pushes the skirt over your dress up around your hips, running his thumb over the skin, “you’re so beautiful,”

“stop lookin at me like that,” you mumble, feeling entirely too entranced by the expression on his face, “kiss me,” he’s nothing if not obedient, his lips on yours immediately, kissing you with fervor. you reach between the two of you, sitting up briefly to toss your underwear somewhere, wrapping your hand around him once more to line him up. “god,” he groans softly, tipping his head back as you slide down on his cock, your eyes closed in bliss, “fuck, you’re so wet, god,”

you bury your face in his neck, trying your best to be quiet as you adjust to his size, rocking your hips slowly, “art,” you moan breathlessly, and before you know it he’s cradling your head, pulling you in closer and fucking up into you. you bite down on his shoulder gently, hoping to suppress the noises leaving you, “god, not gonna last,” he all but whimpers, “you feel so fucking good,”

you just moan in response as he hits all the right spots, your thighs shaking slightly as he fucks you, “fuck, baby- oh my fucking god,” he groans, pulling you off of him gently, “didn’t wanna finish inside you,” he pants, eyes closed as he steadies his breathing, “let me,” you say softly, taking him in your mouth, moaning around him at the taste of yourself on his skin. 

“oh, fuck me,” he moans, hands tightening in your hair and bucking his hips slightly. he’s filling your mouth soon after, your name falling from his lips like a curse as he cums down your throat, panting and whining hoarsely. you wipe your mouth, sitting up to kiss him again, surprised when he pulls you up closer. “sit on my face,” he mumbles against your lips, “let me make you cum, please,” 

“i’m okay,” you start to argue, but he’s shaking his head, looking at you with the sweetest expression, “just let me make you feel good,” you let him lead you, as he lays back on the bed and pulls you up onto him, your thighs on either side of his head. 

he laps at you desperately, and you have to clutch the headboard to keep from collapsing against him as you rock your hips, borderline grinding against his mouth. “art,” you moan, one hand on the headboard and one in his hair, “fuck, you’re so good,”

this only encourages him, and he slides a hand under you, pushing gently on your hips to make you rock against his face once more. you whimper at that, digging your teeth into your bottom lip as you feel yourself getting closer. “art,” you gasp, “gonna-“ 

your vision is spotty as you come undone, his needy mouth never slowing as he works you through it, sucking at your clit until your legs nearly give out. “too much,” you whine, pulling at his hair to deter him. he hums against you, licking one last, slow stripe against you before helping you down, looking up at you with dilated pupils and a spit-slick mouth. 

you wipe his face gently with your duvet, smiling slightly down at him, “that was-“ “you were so good,” he praises, “can’t believe how much i missed that,” he pulls the blanket over your legs, and your chest aches at the tenderness of the action. “you shouldn’t stay,” you say softly, hoping it doesn’t come across as hurtful, “i don’t want my parents to see, yknow,” 

“yeah,” he nods, but he looks slightly hurt, like he’s taken aback, “yeah, good point. i’ll call you?” “yes, please,” you nod, watching as he pulls his clothes back on, “i’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?” “yeah,” he nods, fastening his belt, “uh, goodnight, then,” “night, art,” you smile sleepily, and he lets himself out without returning a smile of his own.

time flies, messy as the mud on your truck tires

now i’m missing your smile, hear me out

we could just ride around 

and the road not taken looks really good now

and it always leads to you in my hometown

the next day, you send him a quick text, slightly worried he’d thought you’d just dismissed him. ‘wanna get coffee today? i leave tomorrow’ 

‘sure’ he replies, and you’re sure then that he’s hurt, but you hope to rectify it, ‘great! starbucks on third at eleven?’ ‘okay. see you there’ he sends back, and you pull on a sweater and leggings, going to spend some time with your parents before heading out to the coffee shop. 

he’s sitting in a window seat when you arrive, much more casual than he had been the night before. he’s in a stanford hoodie and joggers, and you think of him away at college, how at home he’d probably been there. you shake the thought away, walking over to his table, “hey,” you smile, sliding into the booth across him. “hey,” he smiles slightly, “so you leave tomorrow?”

“oh, yeah,” you nod, “gotta get back to work. how long are you in town for?” “told you i moved back,” he says, looking slightly irritated, and you feel a pang of guilt, “yeah, sorry, it completely slipped my mind. so you’re just-“ “what is this, exactly?” he cuts you off, brows furrowed, “i mean, im glad last night happened, but is that just it? you’re gonna shoo me away and go home like nothing happened?” 

“what?” you falter, caught off guard, “art, no, i just have to go back home, it’s not like i’m discarding you,” “you sure are acting like it,” he grumbles, “what, then? are we gonna try and make this work?” “make this work?” you repeat, “what, exactly? i figured it was just because we’re both back home, i don’t-“ “what? so what, then, just a one time thing? that’s kinda fucked up to not tell someone,” he snaps, and you hate yourself in the moment, all the memories of the way you’d been so short when you’d broken up with him resurfacing. 

“maybe it’s better if it’s just for the weekend,” you say quietly, “i mean, we’re both busy, and this was just by chance,” “bullshit,” he shakes his head, “if you don’t wanna be with me, that’s fine. alright? genuinely, no hard feelings. but don’t give me that ‘we’re both busy shit. what’s the real reason you won’t try again?” 

“we both are busy,” you say defensively, “i just don’t- i’d hate for either of us to get hurt again, that’s all,” “i get it, i do, but we’ll never know if we don’t try,” he says softly, “i never wanted to hurt you before, okay? i’ve pictured so many routes for my life and you were always in them,” “we’re different people now, art,” you say carefully, trying to keep your tone even, “you don’t know if we’re still even compatible, and we never know what could happen,” “will you stop doing that? you don’t have to be so calculated about everything. it’s not gonna kill us to try, right? we’ve changed, sure, and we’re at different places in life, but we’re the same people. we’re still the people we were when we were in love,” 

“that was a long time ago,” you say quietly, tears pricking your eyes, “i just don’t wanna make a mistake and get us both hurt,” “i’m fine with being hurt by you. don’t you see that? i have loved you since we were sixteen years old. we can get to know each other again, we can take it slow, i’m not asking you to marry me here. just give it a chance, please?” the sincerity in his tone breaks you, and you’re nodding before you can talk yourself out of it. “yeah,” you sniffle, “yeah, i’d like that so much. i’m sorry, i’m just scared, and i didn’t think we’d ever get another chance,” you ramble. “i know you’re scared,” he says softly, taking your hand in his over the table, “we’re gonna take it slow, alright? we’ll be alright,” “yeah,” you nod, tracing his knuckles with your thumb, “we’ll be alright,” 

[onriyuview]

solace

genre: fluff, smut, 18+ mdni

wc: 3.5k

summary: idol bf!sion comforting his jealous gf!reader, after this clip of him kissing a fan’s camera starts going viral on socials again

cw: soft dom!sion, oral (f), fingering (f), a lot of sweet talk, dirty talk, body worship, praise kink, unprotected pinv sex (wrap it pls), multiple orgasms, reassurance from sion, tender love-making, pet names (baby, beautiful, angel, princess, sweet girl, pretty girl, etc)

a/n: am i the jealous gf fan in question? maybe! ₍ᐢ. ༝ .ᐢ₎

as sion’s incredibly supportive girlfriend, you like to keep up with the wishies’ activities through every social media site you can think of.

being a fangirl yourself, you enjoy seeing different perspectives of concerts or fan events that other czennies attend, allowing yourself to live vicariously through them as to not expose your relationship with sion.

it especially helps when he’s practicing late nights or when he’s out of town, away on tour.

sure, you have countless amounts of his hoodies and special pictures and videos only meant for your camera roll and your eyes, among other physical items that keep you company in his absence, but you can’t help watching him through the eyes of a fan while he’s away.

after all, you’re his number one fan and he’s yours.

scrolling through twitter, you notice a clip from july 2024 making its way back onto your feed, circulating faster than you can even process. it’s on most of the major sion fan accounts you follow and— oh! you’ve seen this before... maybe?

your eyes scan the quick, 2-second clip of your gorgeous boyfriend kissing a fan’s phone camera, the video on a loop now as it turns into a 1-minute clip, then a 3-minute clip, your eyes not being able to leave sion’s features on your screen.

if you hadn’t seen it before you sure have now, the short collection of frames etched into your eyelids at this point.

once you realize just how many times you’ve watched this goddamned video, you sigh and swipe out of the twitter app, tossing your phone onto your covers.

thankfully, sion was only at practice at the company so you knew he’d be coming home to you tonight. but damn who let him think it was okay to give his fans that much fanservice?

you know he loves you and only you, and you know it’s also just his job, but sometimes the negative thoughts get to you.

no one told you how hard it’d be dating an idol as a non-idol, especially if he was a member of the newest and growing nct unit, or especially if he was this dedicated to making his fans fall in love with him, or especially if nearly every fancall video you saw of your boyfriend was of him outright flirting with his older fans.

frustrated with your own thoughts, you huff toward the ceiling, the air blowing a few strands of your hair out of your face, a furrow etched onto your eyebrows as you stare up at the soft glow cast by your bedside lamp.

before you can go deeper down the rabbit hole, you hear your apartment door beep and unlock, a pair of heavy feet stepping through the entrance, snapping you out of your thoughts. you don’t move to get up and greet your boyfriend who calls out for you first.

“baby? are you still awake?” he asks, his voice ringing through your place. he can see the soft light emitting through the gap under the bedroom door as his tired feet pad their way closer. he knows you usually stay up to wait for him.

he knocks gently after not hearing a response from you, softly pushing the door open to find you staring at the ceiling mindlessly.

“baby? earth to y/n?” sion calls out to you, dropping his duffle bag to the ground and nudging your shoulder with his hand.

“hi sion,” you say, catching the way his right brow raises when you call him by his own name and not a nickname or pet name.

your hand that’s further from him moves around your bed, finding your phone and unlocking it to open twitter.

“what’s this all about?” you ask, bringing your phone to his face with your other arm. his mouth opens to say something before his eyes flicker back to the screen where he’s watching himself kiss the camera. he winces slightly at having to re-watch his own fanservice.

“baby,” he starts, making your arm retract from him and toss your phone away once again. “is this why you didn’t answer when i came home?”

when he sees the slight pout set on your lips he fights back a smile, running his hand through his hair and perching himself at the edge of your bed.

“are you… jealous?” he asks, the lilt at the end of his question making you roll your eyes and turn your body away from him, sighing dramatically.

he bursts into a fit of laughter, clutching his stomach as he gasps, struggling to breathe with how hard he’s laughing at you.

“it’s not funny, sion!” you shout, but his giggles drown you out almost entirely. you sigh once again, picking up your phone but avoiding twitter at all costs.

after what feels like forever, sion’s laughs come to a gradual stop, and you feel him lift up your comforter to slip into bed beside you.

you scooch forward just a bit to give him some space, and once he’s finally settled, his face is right behind your neck, the hairs there standing up at the feeling of his breath on your skin.

“babyyy,” he says cutely. you can hear the slightest movements of his mouth with how close he is to you. “hey, come on… look at me, beautiful.”

you really didn’t know how not to give into him. you sigh again, your phone leaving your hand once more as you finally turn to face sion, slightly startled by his proximity.

after finally getting to look into your eyes for the first time since this morning, he takes in your pouty face.

your brows are furrowed the same way they do when you’re focused on something (or just frustrated, in this case), your bottom lip jutting out even more than when he found you.

he knows you might be definitely are upset with him, but this is the cutest you could look while ignoring him.

wordlessly, he starts pressing kisses to your worried features. first between your brows, then your slightly red nose, and both of your flushed cheeks, down to your chin and back up to finally meet your lips.

your features soften at the contact points, but you don’t reciprocate the kiss. your lips are still pouting at him as he looks at you.

one of his arms finds its place across your waist as the other comes up to caress your face.

“what’s wrong, hm? are you mad at me over this video from july?” he asks, his fingers dancing under your shirt to soothe your skin, the thumb of his other hand smooths out your still-worried brows.

you huff once more, letting yourself melt under his touch, eyes closed to focus on the feeling of his fingers against you.

“i’m not mad,” you mumble.

“so you are jealous?” he teases. your eyes open to be met with his signature wide smile that reaches his eyes.

“yes, sion. i’m jealous of your fangirls and the way you talk to them,” you sigh.

he kisses you once, twice, then three times on your lips, and you let him.

“you’re the one i come home to every night,” he assures you, a kiss following his words. “and you know i only have eyes for you,” another kiss. “and you’re the only girl in my world,” another kiss. “and doing all that fanservice is just my job,” sealed with a final kiss.

“i know,” you respond. “i just missed you today and seeing that clip of you stirred something in me i guess…” you frown again, realizing where your jealousy stemmed from.

he tsks at you, pressing another kiss to your brows once more.

“i’m sorry for making you miss me, my sweet girl,” he pouts, mirroring your expression from before. “how about i make it up to you, hmm? show you how much you mean to me? how much i love you?” he offers, each question followed by a kiss.

you don’t respond, watching and waiting to see what he’ll do next if you just lay there silently. to your delight, he starts trailing kisses down across your jaw and along your neck, nipping slightly to try and get a reaction out of you.

you let out a hitched breath, locking eyes with your boyfriend who’s already pulled away from the space in your shoulder. his hands are holding you so gently and his lips are so soft on your skin, brushing past the goosebumps that raise on your chest when you feel his breath there.

his fingers are toying with the hem of your top, silently asking you for permission to take it off, in which you respond with a silent nod of your head.

sion was thankful you didn’t wear a bra around the house, especially not before bed, because that was one less article of clothing keeping him from appreciating your beautiful figure.

“you’re so pretty, princess,” he whispers, a hand reaching out to knead at your chest. his thumb flicks against your nipple gently as he watches you squirm under him. a soft smile makes its way to his lips. “always so responsive for me, hmm?”

he leans forward again, now capturing your other nipple in his mouth, running his tongue across it and groaning at how quickly it hardens.

your hands fly to his hair, nestling into the dark locks to ground yourself. you’re trying not to give him any verbal reactions (for now), but your body moves before you can even think, sion knowing it almost better than you do.

he shifts to nip at your other nipple, switching places with his hand. your breathing is picking up now, his free hand pulling at the elastic of the waistband of your bottoms, the material snapping softly at your skin.

“you gonna let me take care of you tonight, angel?” he asks sweetly, rolling the bud that was in his mouth between his thumb and pointer finger, smiling and biting his lip at how breathless you already look underneath him.

“mmm,” you whine, hips bucking up as a signal for him to continue.

he taps at your hips to raise your hips once more, pulling your bottoms down in one swift motion and tossing them aside somewhere.

sion trails his lips down your torso, fleeting kisses being scattered across the expanse of your skin.

“my pretty baby,” sion whispers, almost to himself.

his hands are holding you at your hips as his mouth meets the skin there, coursing them down your thighs and calves as his lips follow, dragging across your limbs and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“you have no idea what you do to me,” he mumbles, gently pushing your legs apart and settling down between them. he gasps at the wet patch that decorates the center of your panties now, his thumb coming up to rub the damp fabric.

“you missed me too, didn’t you?” he’s smiling, watching you squirm. “i can tell just by how wet you are,” he says, applying more pressure to your clothed clit before pulling the center of your panties aside and exposing your slick core.

your bottom lip is tucked between your teeth, biting down so you don’t give sion the audible satisfaction he wants, but your body betrays you entirely. just the way the string of arousal clings to the fabric is enough to satiate your boyfriend.

“this pussy missed me too, hm?” he leans down, your scent flooding his senses. “thought about her all day, you know.”

he starts flicking his tongue across your clit gently at first, then with more pressure as he pins your squirming hips down to the bed.

“ah-ah,” he tuts. “let me take my time with you, pretty girl,” he says before attaching his mouth to your core, alternating between wrapping his lips around your clit and fucking his tongue in your hole.

he’s truly indulging in your pussy, not in any rush and wanting to drag out your pleasure for as long as he can. it’s wet and messy, sion’s trademark while eating you out, and you love it.

“tastes so sweet, angel,” he growls, his voice dropping and more gravelly than before, making you leak with arousal.

pulling away from your heat, he works a finger through your folds before burying it in you with one swift motion, the wetness of your juices and his spit aiding his digit. you cry out at the feeling of finally feeling somewhat full of him.

“sion!” you gasp as his mouth reattaches itself to your clit, sucking almost too softly as he fingers you deliciously, your original idea of staying quiet thrown out the window. he just feels— “so good, sion,” you whine, your hips bucking against his face.

you almost miss how he’s smiling up at you as he keeps working you, adding another finger and pumping them in and out of your heat. sion revels at the reactions you finally give him, the squelching sounds filling the room and turning you on even more.

“that’s it, baby. let me hear you,” he purrs, fingers stroking at the spongy part of your walls before suckling your clit with more fervor now, anticipating your orgasm before you can even process it yourself.

“c-cumming, sion— fuck! i’m cumming,” you cry before the hot white feeling in your stomach releases, sending you over the edge as sion’s movements don’t stop, helping you ride out your high around his fingers and in his mouth.

“that’s my girl,” he grins at you, finally pulling away from your core. the bottom half of his face covered in your cum, his lips puffy and shining even in the dim lighting of your bedroom.

you tug at the collar of his shirt, silently asking him to come up to you.

“what is it, pretty?” his smile growing as he takes in your flushed cheeks and messy hair. “need your words, baby.”

“kiss me,” you mumble, pulling at him once more before his lips meet yours. you can taste yourself on him as your tongue swipes across his lower lip, his tongue stroking against yours, sion deepening the kiss with more passion.

you both pull away breathlessly, resting your foreheads against each other for a short moment.

“you’re so beautiful, you know that?” he asks, eyes boring into yours.

“i know… you tell me everyday,” you blush.

“you know i think you look prettiest when you’re cumming?” sion asks, pressing another kiss to your lips before his hands move down to his sweats, pulling them down along with his underwear.

his hard member springs up, the tip red against the pale skin of his stomach, precum smeared across the head of it. “only just got started and this is what you do to my cock, sweet girl.”

he hunches down to steal another kiss from you, pushing your legs up to lie between them before grabbing the base of his cock and running the tip through your folds.

you whine at this, your hips pushing up so he can just get it in, but sion shakes his head and tsks at this.

“impatient aren’t you? i thought i told you i wanted to take my time with you, angel,” he reminds you, his free hand coming to pin your hips down to the mattress once more. “i’ll give you what you want, don’t worry your pretty head.”

the head of his cock finally latches onto your entrance, making you gasp and sion hiss at the sensation. “always f-feel so good— fuck, so good around me baby,” he stutters as he pushes his length in.

despite how many times you and sion have had sex, you’re still not adjusted to his size, the stretch burning delightfully each time.

“my perfect girl,” sion breathes out once he fully buries himself to the hilt. “with the most perfect pussy made just for me, hm?” he all but whines at the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, his hands planting into the pillow on either side of your head to steady himself.

he’s kissing you now, distracting you from the discomfort between your legs. you can feel everything he wants to say just with his plush lips against yours.

he pulls back to pepper your face with more pecks, watching the furrow in your brows disappear slowly as your vice-like grip on his throbbing member slowly lets up.

“that’s it angel,” sion coos, his big brown eyes sparkling with pride. “you’re doing so good for me, takin’ me so fuckin’ well,” he praises. his hips start drawing back and pushing forward gently but firmly, filling you up all the way every time.

“‘s too big, sion,” you whimper, feeling the the tip of his member kissing at the most deepest part of your walls. your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, the pleasure too overwhelming to keep them open and trained on your boyfriend.

“i’ve got you, baby. you’re okay, just keep taking it,” he groans, picking up the pace in hopes of drowning out the pain with pleasure. it works like a charm, moans of pleasure spilling from your lips and encouraging him to keep going.

he’s cupping your face with one hand while the other keeps him propped up, swiping at your lips and your cheek so gently, making you open your eyes and look at him.

“i love you so much, sweet girl. you’re so perfect and good to me and you mean the world to me,” he’s blabbering now, but the sweet words go straight to your pussy, making you clench around his length.

a whine bubbles out of your lips and your eyes are squeezed shut again at the immense oxytocin rush. he’s fucking you just right while spilling the most sugary words in your ears and you feel like you’re floating.

his hand that was holding your face moves down to start rubbing circles against your clit and your back arches at the contact, your hips fighting against his hand to buck up and meet his thrusts.

“ah— sion!” you cry out, your walls fluttering around him more consistently now. “fuck! sion please,” you pant.

“what’s wrong, baby?” sion asks, feigning concern. he knows exactly what’s wrong; he knows your body like the back of his hand, but just needs to hear you say it.

his head dips to the crook of your neck to nip at the skin and your arms fly around his shoulders, one of your hands finding its way in his hair to tug at the strands in an attempt to ground yourself.

“i— fuck! i’m gonna cum,” you’re gasping now, causing sion to speed up his thrusts as well as his fingers on your clit.

“y-yeah? gonna cum for me pretty girl?” he rasps. “gonna make a mess around my cock? you gonna show your boyfriend how much you love him, hmm?”

and that’s all it takes for the tension in your lower stomach to burst. the cry that leaves your mouth has your throat feeling raw, but you don’t care as sion’s teeth graze your neck, the skin muffling his moans as he paints your walls with his hot cum.

his lips leave your neck as his hips still, your walls still spasming with the aftershocks of your orgasm. “always so good for me, angel,” sion mumbles, slotting your lips together as he rides out both of your highs.

after catching your breaths, and much reluctance, he finally pulls out of you. the sudden empty feeling and his fluids spilling out of you making you wince and groan at once.

“sion!” you whine, dragging out his name for emphasis, your face scrunching up as he chuckles at you.

“i know, baby. hold on,” he says, getting up to dampen a towel to clean you up. “come here, let’s get you cleaned up so we can cuddle.” his signature smile spreads across his face, his cheekbones rising with it.

you roll your eyes but are unable to avoid the corners of your lips turning up to mirror his own.

once you’re both clean and redressed in comfortable sleeping clothes, sion pulls you close to him, your back pressed against his front.

“have i made it up to you?” he asks, burying his face into the back of your neck.

“you have... and i’m sorry for getting upset with you earlier,” you pout, even though he can’t see your face. he shushes you and pulls you impossibly closer.

“don’t be sorry, beautiful. i know you just missed me,” sion mumbles, kissing your neck. “i’ll make sure you never miss me that much again, okay?”

you hum in response, the fatigue taking over as your eyelids shut, feeling nothing but love and reassurance as you fall asleep in sion’s arms.

tags: @rikupid @sminiac @be-my-sunrise ♡

thank you to my baby @rikupid for beta reading as always ♡

[caws5749]

hiii i saw that you were looking for fluff requests so could u do something like natasha and reader both busy and not looking while walking through stark tower or soemthing and y/n obviously knows who natasha is has a bit of a crush on her and nat is like teasing her. later on they keep bumping into each other until nat is like “i’m done with the meet and greets” and asks reader out on a date. (nothing specific lol take and pick at if if you’d like, i just wanted to pitch in! :))

WARNING: THE BAREST HINT OF THIRSTING AND MENTION OF BREASTS IM SORRY I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF

A/N: you know that part in despicable me where she goes "IT'S SO FLUFFY" ?? yeah that came to mind reading this because ITS SO FLUFFY AND CUTE AND SUCH A GREAT IDEA THANK YOUUUUU <3

Consulting with the Avengers team was something you still couldn't believe you had the privilege to do. You had more been consulting with the brand itself versus the actual humans, but it still felt like a privilege.

You were a bit rushed leaving the compound, face glued to your phone looking at the plane tickets for the upcoming weekend. You were set to visit a friend but hadn't even bought your ticket yet. With one strap of your bag hanging off your shoulder, you rounded the corner and bumped right into someone...hard.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry," you quickly got out, eyes finally moving up to meet lively green ones. Your jaw dropped a bit.

"Are you alright?" Natasha asked softly, eyes scanning your form for obvious injury. When she found none, she focused back on your face. She didn't even seem fazed by the collision.

"I'm fine, I'm so sorry, are you?" You questioned quickly, nearly slapping yourself in the face once you realized you asked an Avenger, hell, the Black Widow, if a bump into you had injured her.

"I'm alright, thank you. You seem like you're in a hurry, I won't hold you up."

All you could do was nod as she walked around you and you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding.

++++++

Somehow the exact same thing happened again, though this time it wasn't your fault.

Natasha was exhausted, just returning from a mission that drained her both physically and mentally. While it was only just after five in the evening, she couldn't wait to go straight to bed after a warm shower. She exited the elevator as soon as the doors opened, walking right into you.

"Oof," you muttered in surprise.

"Are you- I know you," the red-head stated, her eyes scanning over your form for injuries as they did previously, even after just a simple bump. "I'm sorry, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Natasha," you replied as you sent a reassuring smile. The corner of her mouth quirked upwards.

"And you are?"

You blushed. "I'm Y/N L/N. I consult for the Avengers."

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'll see you around."

You entered the elevator, your legs feeling like lead. You turned just in time to watch her continue her walk down the hall. It just might have been the greatest sight you'd ever seen.

++++++

The universe must have been against you because it just seemed utterly impossible for you to not run into the widow.

It was just after midnight and you couldn't wait to leave. You were trying to finish up a big project and you knew having it done as quickly as possible would be a good thing, especially because you believed in the project so much. So you stayed in a conference room working later than normal. But you were exhausted and it was time to go home so you quickly tossed your things in your bag and headed out the door. You reached the door to the hallway and pushed it open with all of your might, eyes widening when a certain red-head had to jump out of the way to avoid it.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Again," you rushed. "Are you okay?"

"It didn't hit me, I'm okay," Natasha responded, before tilting her head. "What are you doing here so late?"

"Just trying to finish up a project. I hadn't really realized what time it was, to be honest."

She hummed thoughtfully. "You know, we do have guest rooms if you want to stay the night. You might not want to be out driving this late."

God, you knew it wasn't her protecting you or being worried about you because there was no way, but you couldn't help the flutter in your chest and the red that creeped into your cheeks.

The woman across from you smirked at your pink cheeks. She wasn't sure if you were like this with everyone or just her, but she loved it.

"Oh, I'm fine, but thank you. That's really nice of you... guys. That's really nice of you guys," you babbled, feeling the heat spread to your entire face.

"Just don't tell Tony I offered, he's picky," she laughed, before pulling the door open and walking through.

"Might want to check your temperature, Y/N, you're flushed like you have a fever," Nat yelled back, amusement in her tone.

No chance she hadn't noticed then. You were certain you couldn't make any bigger a fool of yourself.

++++++

The next time you ran into her, thankfully there were no close calls for injuries. Natasha had just finished her workout and was heading to the kitchen for a snack, where you had just finished a conversation with Sharon Carter, who had helped you on your latest project. She had told you to grab anything you wanted from the snack drawer, something that was somehow empty by the end of each day.

You searched the drawer for something that seemed appealing, jumping out of your skin from a smooth voice that came from behind you.

"Find anything good in there?"

"Natasha," you breathed as you whirled around, heart pounding in your chest. Your eyes widened as you took in her sweaty appearance, skin glistening, the top of her breasts just visible with the sports bra she had chosen.

"See anything you like?"

You flushed a deep red. "I, uh-"

"In the drawer, Y/N," she interrupted, eyes sparkling with humor.

"I- not really."

She walked up to you, the distance between the two of you now nearly nonexistent. You could see the dimension in her green eyes, the sweat bead slowly making its way down her right temple, the gentle pink to her full lips. You gulped, trying to steady your breathing when her arm reached around you, grazing your skin as she grabbed a snack from the drawer.

"I'm tired of these little meet and greets. Meet me here later at 8."

She gave you a wink and walked out.

You weren't quite sure what you'd done to deserve a date with that woman, but boy were you grateful.

[freakspectors]

EDGAR ALLAN POE SMUT HCS.

E. A. Poe | BSD x Gender-Neutral Reader Smut Headcanons .

warnings ; smut, my pussy wrote this and its 3 am prepare for errors, body worship, cunnilingus, blowjob, face sitting, breeding mention, praise kink, cowgirl position, etc.

authors note ; hi guys .. im a bsd fan .. a big one ... and i fucking love poe so much im obsessed with him . this entire thing is self indulgent i swear to you (which is why female anatomy is mentioned more in this . sorry guys TvT) . sighs deeply .... anyways go read ttyl ! ^_^

✦ Poe's a Sub. 100%. But occasionally, he's not -- and on those occasions he's a Service Dom.

✦ He acts high and mighty, yet nearly crumbles from the slightest bit of teasing from you. He stammers and whines so pathetically from just a simple touch. If you leave Poe alone after that, later you'll feel him wrap his hands around your waist and meekly grind against you to show how hard he is for you.

✦ Poe loves when you gently place kisses on his body, especially his neck. He's the most sensitive there. Bite him there and you'll receive the most pitiful whimpers you ever heard. His tip gets all sticky from just that alone .. please stroke him off , he deserves it :((

✦ Speaking of Poe's dick, it's HUGE. It's a little girthy and very long. He simply has big dick energy I don't know what to tell you. He cums so much, too. Hot, sticky, salty ropes always gush out load by load, emptying himself out. He has so much more, though .. <3

✦ A pillow prince when he's subbing. He's an absolute mess when you suck his dick, his whimpers and babbles filling the room while you bob your head and swirl your tongue around him. He begs to cum, even if you never asked him to.

✦ Service Dom Poe isn't entirely different.. But you can easily tell them apart.

✦ Poe always does body worship. He'll kiss you all the way down your body like you do for him, mumbling praise as his lips touch your warm skin.

✦ His favorite part of you to kiss is your thighs. If you're plus sized or have larger thighs you're putting him in pure bliss, I'm telling you. Poe would bury himself in them if he could.

✦ On that note, Poe is into face sitting. Heavily. He likes it when you close your thighs around his head when you cum, along with you grind on his tongue and make a mess on his face.

✦ He himself isn't exactly a messy eater, though. Poe's slow and calculated, sucking and flicking your clit with his tongue exactly the way you like it. He doesn't mind if you squirm either; it lets him know how well he's doing. The same applies if you have a dick - he sucks at a reasonable pace, and doesn't mind if you start to facefuck him.

✦ Poe's so focused on pleasing you he denies his own needs. He'd deny his own orgasm just to feel you cum around his cock a little more .. He just wants to make you feel good :((

✦ Please praise him. Doesn't matter if Poe's subbing or dominating; just do it. It's his favorite thing ever. He loves to give and receive it.

✦ Poe likes to make you read his novels when he's giving you head or fucking you. The way you stammer and sputter always makes him smile.

✦ Poe writes out the fantasies he has of you nearly all the time. They range from you topping him, fucking him until he can't cum anymore to Poe breeding you, his thick cum pouring out of your stuffed hole. He never lets anyone read them - not even you.

✦ His favorite position is Cowgirl. It works for when he's a sub and a dom -- you can take control, riding him while he grips the sheets desperately, or he can hold you by your hips to help you bounce on him; yanking out your fourth orgasm for the night. Poe loves the duality of it.

✦ Aftercare with Poe is very sweet! When he subs he's tired as fuck, so he ushers you to join him for bed and whispers about how much he loves you as you both doze off. When he doms, he's not as tired, but he's all over you making sure you're okay and if you need anything. He's infatuated with you, his various love poems for you has proof of that.

@ HELUVAKU 2023 . do not share or repost .

[themostlesbianever]

College AU Sevika x reader chapter 3

A/N: I am genuinely so sorry for having y'all wait for so long😔 I was busy with Christmas prep and then Christmas.

I will be trying to post more frequently but im not promising anything.

Thanks for all the support so far🙏🙏 Enjoy!

more parts

(This is semi-proofread, its nearly 3 am and im tired, but i wanted to give you the next chapter)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks have passed and you’re settling into the college routine nicely, struggling here and there but still, nicely. You and Sevika have been getting closer as well, you would even go so far as to call her a friend. You don’t see her all the time because she’s busy with schoolwork, friends and extracurriculars. Just like you. After a day or 2 you had found out she plays rugby which was understandable with the way she was built. She also frequents the campus gym, lifting impressive amounts of weight while making it look easy.

You’re sitting on your bed reviewing some sheet music, you had always been a bit of a band kid, trying out a bunch of instruments before finally settling on the trumpet. You signed up for band at college and managed to get in. Together with, obviously, Ekko, who plays the drums. Sevika is also sitting on her bed but she’s on her phone. You glance over at her, it looks like she's texting someone.

Then the corner of her mouth lifts up slightly. “What are you smiling at?” you ask, the sudden noise makes her smile drop and her gaze move over to you. “Nothing” she replies, clearly lying. You raise one brow at her and tilt your head slightly, making her rethink her answer.

“Okay fine, so there's this girl an-”. She stops talking when she sees your facial expression change from interested to surprised. “You like women?” you question, and now it's her turn to look surprised. “Was that” she pauses for a second. “Was that not obvious?” she asks, a hint of confusion in her voice.

You simply blink at her and shrug your shoulders. You tell her to continue and she lets out a small chuckle before doing just that. “Well this girl, Rose, slid into my dm’s complimenting one of my photo dumps and we started talking. And now we're kind of flirting, I guess.” A small smile starts to creep onto her lips as she speaks.

“And she’s like, SO pretty oh my god” she continues. “Does she go here?” you ask and she nods. “Anyways” she mumbles, trying to shift the attention off of herself and onto you. You’ve noticed she does that a lot, she doesn’t like talking about herself and is quite closed off. She has been opening up a tiny bit to you as you’ve gotten to know each other. A little fun fact here, a random memory there. It’s been nice.

“What have you been staring at for the past like, hour?” she asks and you sigh before speaking. “It’s the new music we got for band. It's incredibly annoying to play and I have to memorize it.” She furrows her brows a bit. "Wait." She pauses and looks at you, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “You’re a band kid?” You can’t help but be slightly offended.

“Why do you say that like it's a bad thing? I’ll have you know, I'm very cool” You say while pointing your index finger at her. “Oh I believe that, don’t worry.” She chuckles. “What instrument do you play?” You proudly tell her you play the trumpet which she admits is quite impressive.

She then gets up from her bed, walking over to you and grabbing the music sheets from your hand. Her eyes scan the paper, the more she reads the more her brows furrow, after about a full minute of her looking at the sheets in silence, she looks up at you and speaks. “what the fuck.” You laugh at that.

“Exactly what I’m thinking” you say. “How do you read that shit, seriously?” She asks and gives the pieces of paper back to you. “Oh I've been playing for years, I started with lessons. At first I was actually learning, I learned all the grips and notes, how to hold it correctly, bla bla bla. But then it became learning and memorizing random songs I didn’t care about. So I quit. Just the lessons tho, I never stopped playing.” You explain.

She listens intently, nodding along as you ramble on about your many teachers, performances, friends you had made along your musical journey and how you had begged your mum for your very own trumpet. Quitting lessons also meant having to give back the trumpet they had given to you. Well, not really given, your mum had to pay a monthly fee for lessons and said trumpet.

After a little while you realise you’ve been rambling and apologise. “Oh I’m sorry, I talk a lot” you say quietly. The room suddenly feels very warm, your face heating up in embarrassment. “You’re fine dude” Sevika says. “It’s very entertaining, so don’t worry. You can talk however much you like.” She offers you a soft smile. You smile back and thank her.

Somewhere during your ramble she sat back down on her own bed and leaned back against the wall. She still sits there unmoving, just looking at you in silence, it’s a comfortable silence that the both of you sit in for a bit before you remember you should really be studying this music and look back down at the sheets.

After a while of reviewing your sheets, practicing changing the grips by pretending you’re playing and counting how long you have to be silent for before you have to start playing again, you have had enough. You inhale deeply and breathe out in the form of a sigh. Sevika looks up at you, a questioning look in her eyes. You hold the sheets up and she chuckles.

You hop off your bed and pull out a binder from one of the bed drawers, placing the music sheets neatly where they belong before closing it and putting it back inside the drawer. Then Sevika speaks. “You said you own a trumpet, did you take it with you for band? Or do you get one from the school”. You turn back around and rest your hips against the wooden frame of your bed, facing Sevika who is still sitting on hers.

“I think there's an option to rent an instrument from the school but I took my own with me, I just prefer it over a random trumpet. Not that they’d be super different from each other but you know. Plus it was possible they wouldn’t even have one for me.” You answered. She simply nods before asking to see your trumpet.

You agree and walk over to your closet, where you store your trumpet, and take it out. You put the storage case on your bed and unclasp it, opening the lid and stepping aside so Sevika can see. She gets off her bed and steps over to the open case. She reaches one of her hands out, glancing over at you as if to ask for permission to touch it. You nod and she runs her fingers over the cold instrument.

“It’s quite pretty” she says and you let out a small huff of air that could be considered a laugh. “It’s really not Sevika. It’s old and it's not as clean as it used to be” you admit and she shrugs. “I think it's pretty.” You’re about to tell her your old trumpet really isn’t that special when you hear a knock at the door.

Sevika walks over and opens the door slightly to see who’s knocking, she opens it all the way when she sees its Ekko. He steps inside. “Dude, do you ever read your texts?” he questions. You shoot him a confused look, he sighs. “Sorry dude, I was reviewing the new music. You are aware we’re supposed to start memorizing it. right?” you ask him, genuinely wondering if he had listened to the given instructions.

“Of course I’m aware” he says while rolling his eyes at you. “Anyway I wanted to ask if you wanted to get lunch. But you weren’t replying so I decided to come over before our possible lunch plans turned into dinner plans” he says, then he looks at you with a disappointed look on his face. “I thought of that amazing joke and I don’t even get a smile? Rude”

“It really wasn’t that funny” you tell him and he rolls his eyes again. Then he looks at Sevika, a hopeful look in his eyes. “Don’t bring me into this.” She says and throws her hands up in the air.

“Fine, but do you wanna get lunch or not?” He asks, looking back at you again. You nod before turning to Sevika. “You wanna come with us” you ask. “Sure why not,” she shrugs. You close the trumpet case and put it back in your closet. “Lets go then.”

____________________________________________

please feel free to comment your thoughts🙏

Tag list: @0eatmysoulll0-blog @misswynters @vikaswife @ladycupa0-0 @d3adbrainer @vintage-karma @gravegoer

[invisible-lint]

Everything Could Be Okay: Chapter 2

Rhys x Tamlin's sister!reader

Summary: Time for a wedding... Or is it?

Warnings: nothing I can think of!

Word Count: 1.4k

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 3

You had never been a fan of parties. They were too loud, the air too stuffy, and the gossiping of the Spring Ladies you were forced to be with was obnoxious. But you had endured, not wanting to leave Feyre to fend for herself. Or worse, alone with Ianthe who had gotten on your nerves with how pushy she had been while planning what was supposed to be Feyre’s wedding.

Feyre had made her escape nearly an hour ago, heading up to bed, and here you were, stuck, nodding along as you pretended to listen to the gossiping females surrounding you.

"From what I hear, Tamlin is looking to find a husband for you." That got your attention. The room is suddenly suffocating, air struggling to find its way to your lungs. Your hand reaches to your necklace, finding the ring on it. The group of females look worried as you back away, feeling as if the room is closing in on you.

"Excuse me," you manage to mumble, fleeing the room.

You run out to the gardens, not noticing Tamlin following you. You stop, sinking into a bench, trying not to hyperventilate. How could he do this? Just because he wanted to pretend nothing had happened doesn't mean that you would. He sits next to you and you stand, anger flooding your body when you see him, pushing out the panic.

"How dare you?" You hiss, blinking back the angry tears stinging your eyes.

He sighs. "What is it I've supposedly done now?"

"When were you going to tell me you were looking for a husband for me?"

"You're overreacting. Someone asked about marrying you, and I simply said I would think about it."

"No. You don't get to make that choice for me. I am not ready for that. I am not ready to replace him!" You start to pace, trying to keep your temper in check. 

"It would be good for you to move on. You can't be unhappy forever." 

You lose your temper then, whirling to face him, pointing a finger at his chest. "You don't understand! I felt it when he died! It was like my soul was cleaved in two! That is not something I can just move on from! Had Feyre's death been permanent you would not have moved on as quickly as you're asking me to!" He growls at you, claws sliding out. You flinch, knowing you said too much and turn to run further into the garden. This time, Tamlin doesn’t follow.

The next day is the wedding, and you sit with Feyre as several females prepare her. You watch silently, trying to gauge how she is feeling. You know about the nightmares, and have noticed the weight loss, but you don’t know what to do. What can you do? You’ve offered companionship, tried getting her to eat more of the foods you know she likes, but still, she is wasting away before your eyes. You can’t talk about Under the Mountain, no one talks about it. No one can. 

You notice Feyre is looking more and more nervous, and you ask for the room to be cleared. Once it’s just the two of you in the room, you pull a chair over so you’re right next to her, taking her hands in yours.

“I was nervous before my wedding too. I couldn’t eat anything and then I almost fainted right before the ceremony.” You squeeze her hands gently. “But I knew it was what I wanted. Andras and I had courted for nearly 20 years before I agreed to marry him. I suppose what I’m trying to say is if you’ve changed your mind, if you need more time, I will come up with some sort of reason to postpone the wedding. Tamlin doesn’t need to know about any of it.” 

Feyre sits for a moment, thinking before shaking her head. “I’m ready. I want this.”

You nod, squeezing her hands again. “Then I’ll be right there with you.”

You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised, Rhysand was prone to making dramatic entrances after all. Showing up right as Feyre was walking down the aisle seemed just like the kind of thing he would do.The part of you screaming its relief is hard to ignore, but you manage to shove it down.

You stride across the lawn, chin held high, interrupting the argument. "I will be joining Feyre as a chaperone." The violet eyed male quirks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile. “Oh?”

"Yes. No part of your agreement said she had to spend her time in your court alone." 

"I suppose not."

"So I'm joining her." 

At that moment Tamlin finally finds his voice. "Absolutely not."

"You'd have her go alone?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at your brother. 

He sputters, before making an exasperated noise, knowing you're right. 

"Don't worry Tamlin, I'll treat her better than you treated my sister," Rhysand taunts. You shoot him an exasperated look, ignoring your brother's snarl. He crosses over to you and Feyre, wrapping an arm around each of you and winnowing away, whisking both of you off to the night court.

You wander the halls of the mountain palace, thinking back on the past few hours. It’d been hard not to laugh when Feyre had thrown her shoes at Rhysand, the look on his face had made it even harder. But more than anything, the interaction made you feel relieved. Somewhere in there, who Feyre truly was still resided. And he had managed to draw her out. 

You walk out onto a balcony, glad that whatever magic seems to be heating the interior of the palace extends to out here. You gaze up at the stars, lost in thoughts about how you might help Feyre. When you eventually turn to go back inside, Rhysand is standing in the doorway, staring at you, the expression on his face unreadable. He walks over, leaning against the railing of the balcony next to you. 

“This is the second time now I’ve found you roaming in the middle of the night. I’m starting to think you don’t sleep.”

“I don’t.” He raises an eyebrow in response.

“Not well at least. It’s… a long story.”

“One you won’t share with me?”

You cross your arms, shooting him a hard look. “I don’t know you.”

“Ah, yes. But I assume you intend to accompany Feyre everytime. One week a month for the rest of your life gives you plenty of time to know me.”

“I think I know enough.” You squeeze your arms, trying to ignore the way your heartbeat races at the idea of getting to know him.

“Do you make it a habit of assuming you know people based on what you’ve heard?”

“Do you make it a habit of being so obnoxious?” You huff, flinging your arms down to your side, temper stirring. The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smile as he tries not to laugh.

“Are you always so easily irritated?”

You snap, letting everything you’ve been holding in flood out. “You would be too if you were me! I have lost so much and I’m supposed to just smile and pretend I’m okay. That I don’t dream about my dead husband every night. It has barely been a year since he died and someone asked Tamlin if they could marry me. A year! I was with him for almost 100 years and people have the audacity to think I should move on because I can’t be miserable forever! Not to mention that without him, without his sacrifice, Feyre wouldn’t have been able to save anyone! Oh, and speaking of Feyre, I don’t think she wants to marry my brother. But she refuses to admit it and there's nothing I can do and she’s going to end up as trapped and miserable in Spring as I am! And I have nobody to tell this to because the only person who I could ever truly share my feelings with is dead! So I’m so sorry if I’m a little bit irritable.” You finish your rant, chest heaving. Rhysand just stares at you, a little wide eyed, at a loss for words. Suddenly realizing how much you had shared, you turn and run, heading anywhere but there, but he remains rooted to the spot.

He had felt it. Felt all your anger, frustration and anguish down the blossoming bond. Mate. You’re his mate. He lets out a shaky breath, turning to grip the railing, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t tell you. How could he when you had just shouted at him about how you're still grieving your husband? So this, like so many he already carried, would be his sole burden to bear.

A/N: And there it is! I'm already working on chapter 3 and hope to have it posted sometime either this week or early next week. it's already a LONG one! As always, requests are open and feel free to send them on in!

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Taglist: @lilah-asteria @readingislife2006 @acourtofimagines @mistymoocow @irelanrose @darker-december @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @loving-and-dreaming

[serqphites]

VICTORIA NEUMAN X ASSISTANT!READER

format: blurb

warnings: nsfw content at the end

word count: 700+

not proofread! y/n used!

- the second you came in for your interview she pretty much decided she was hiring you LMAO

- now i’m not saying she only hired you because of her crush, because your resume genuinely caught her eye, but i’m also not saying it had nothing to do with it 🤷‍♀️

- she definitely asks you to do things she could easily do just as an excuse to see you

- “y/n! can you come here please?”

- “can you pick up this pen i dropped please? i’ve got suchhh a bad back” she’s so dramatic i love her

- you honestly think she’s just being a bitch and she’s messing with you

- that is until one day she comes to you in the morning, saying today she only has one task for you

- “will you eat lunch with me?” and she has the dorkiest smile of all time on her face

- lunch together becomes a regular thing, going from talking about your favourite tv shows to her telling you about her daughter zoe

- she’s so sad when you eventually tell her you thought she was just like every person you’ve ever worked for, just messing with you for the fun of it

- “no no never! i could never do that, especially not to you” OOOOOO it’s blush city for you both

- things are going great! you love your job. that is until something changes, and victoria randomly stops asking you to do things for her

- i mean you’re her assistant, shouldn’t you be getting her coffee? shouldn’t you be organising her files? shouldn’t you be having lunch with her and not hughie?

- to say this has you down is an understatement, you can’t seem to understand why she has randomly shut you out

- it’s not like she’s not speaking to you, she’s still asking you to do things but they’re all tasks that require you to be away from her. you haven’t even been in her office for nearly two weeks now

- after your hurt builds and builds, you can’t hold it in anymore. you storm into her office demanding to know why she’s avoiding you

- she plays it dumb at first but she knows what she’s been doing so she fesses up

- “fuck… i’m sorry, so sorry. it’s not you i promise, it’s me. i- i like you, okay? like a lot and i know it sounds stupid and i know it’s sooo inappropriate because you’re my assist-“ SILENCED BY A KISS WOOOO

- you’re discrete about it at first, sneaking around and making out in the bathroom stalls like you’re high schoolers

- her bringing you lunch everyday<3

- she so leaves post-it notes on her desk with cute lil messages whenever she has to leave for meetings because it’s where she tells you to just relax

- you don’t bother asking why you’re not allowed to meetings that involve voughts CEO, it’s probably just a confidentiality thing right?

- a bit random but whenever you’re standing talking to somebody i feel like she’d just squeeze your butt?

- canon she’s a butt squeezer

- you don’t fight much but oh boy is your schedule full when you do

- she gives you the stupidest tasks she can think of LMAO

- “can you walk someone’s dog please?” “someone’s dog?” “yeah, just go around asking who has a dog that needs walking” “are you being serious, vic?” “yes i most definitely am, it would help me soooo much you have no idea!”

- I LOVE HER SO MUCHHH

- dating your boss can be annoying at times, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world <3

NSFW TIMEEEE

- officesex!officesex!officesex!

- this honestly deserves its own blurb if i'm being honest

- i feel like she's already dominant in bed anyways but because she’s your boss it’s elevated TO THE MAX.

- “i have one really special task for you today, so listen closely”

- you can barely stay stood up with how weak your knees go (real)

- “i need you to be a good girl for me, how does that sound? you think you can do that for me?” in her husky voice im DECEASED

- one time she cleared her desk by pushing everything on the floor, she immediately regretted it when she realised she had broken almost everything

- “i always see people do it in movies and this doesn’t happen” she’s so upset while she’s picking up a broken picture of you both on the beach

- she’s so silly

- she definitely buys you lingerie to wear underneath your work clothes 🤭

- the amount of flirty texts she sends you during the day just to watch you blush uncontrollably is concerning (when is it my turn)

a/n: requests are always open, hope you enjoyed :)

[ladyeyrewrites]

💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭 MORE PLEASE I LOVE THIS SERIES

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Thanks so much anon! I've been blown away with the response to what I've posted so far. I'll probably start posting this on Ao3 later this week once I've got a bit more backlog built up. Have a little Tommy POV:

Tommy holds it together until Evan is calm enough to listen to the doctor explain next steps. He keeps himself in check, his weakness at bay, even though all he wants to do is breakdown and scream.

He tires to smile encouragingly as an orderly wheels Evan away to take him for a brain scan, but it’s strained. As the door closes behind Evan, Tommy slumps into the chair next to Evan’s bed and buries his head in his hands. He waits for tears to come.

They don’t, despite the fact he can feel them pressing against his eyelids, they refuse to fall.

“He’ll be okay.” Maddie places a hand on his shoulder and Tommy shudders, instinctively shying away from comfort before he forces himself to be still and accept it.

“What if he never remembers?” Tommy asks. “What if he decides he’d rather live a different life?” A different life than the one they’ve built together. A life without Tommy. And as devastating as this is, there’s a part of Tommy that’s not even all that shocked.

Four three years, he’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop. And here it is, Tommy flattened underneath its rubber sole.

That little voice that he thought had quieted down is back, the one that lurks in the back of his mind, whispering that he doesn’t deserve to be happy, that his relationship with Evan is a fluke, a cosmic mistake, that he was never meant to be the forever guy after all. Evan’s forever is still out there somewhere waiting for him. If Evan wants a divorce, Tommy won’t protest.

If?

Who’s Tommy kidding? Of course, Evan will want a divorce. As far as Evan knows, he’s twenty-five-years old and straight. He’s still in his Buck 1.0 days. Or is he an even earlier version because he’s not even Buck yet?

This Evan, this proto-Buck, has never been in a serious relationship, has never held a long-term lease, barely has a credit history because of all the under-the-table work and crashing at friends houses he’s done. Tommy really would be this Evan’s first.

“Breath, Tommy,” Maddie says and for the first time, Tommy realises his breathing is fast and ragged. He’s hyperventilating. Head spinning.

Spinning. Vision dark.

He squeezes his eyes tight and tries to breathe along with Maddie’s counts: in-two-three-four, hold-two-three-four, out-two-three-four. Over and over until warmth returns to his face. He opens his eyes and gives Maddie a weak smile. “I’m good,” he says.

“You’re really not,” she replies. “Neither am I.”

“Ten years,” he says. “Ten fucking years.” He shouldn’t be angry. It’s not Evan’s fault this happened. As far as Tommy’s been told, there wasn’t time to issue an evacuation order before the roof collapsed on top of Evan. Tommy knows he should be relieved that Evan made it out alive. That the fire was nearly out by the time the roof collapsed. That Evan escaped with no burns or broken bones, only bruises and a gaping hole where their life together should be.

[backwzzds]

ೃ⁀➷ 5 in the mornin’, trafalgar law (nsfw)

law never gets mad when you call. even if its to have phone sex with him at 5 in the morning.

only back to drop for my baby daddy’s birthday <3. might feed y’all some more later today i gotta see how tired i am 🙇🏾‍♀️

it nearing 5 in the morning when you’d started to grow restless. usually you pulled all nighters on the night where law had to pull doubles at the hospital, most lasting anywhere from 36 to 48 hours. but no matter how many times he told you to stop waiting up two days straight for him—you didn’t listen.

you were sure that sleep was coming soon. law only worked four days a week, ranging at 96 hours of being head surgeon, and most of that time, you spent it awake, up and waiting for him—you were insane. you checked the time and figured that he’d finally be on his three hour break, permitting him to finally get at least a nap in his office quarters designated for senior doctors.

you began to grow irritable as you felt your body heat up randomly. you couldn’t remember the last time you had sex; it’s been a couple weeks due to how busy both you and law were. though the sun would be coming up soon, you’d felt the sudden urge to masturbate and hopefully release some tension like you usually did in order to sleep, but knew your fingers were nothing in comparison to law’s.

contemplation picked at your brain. you bit your lip, waging a mental war with yourself on what you should do. you were sure law would be napping right now—getting the little bit of sleep he usually did before his next and last surgery at eight in the morning, just a few hours from now. he always answered the phone whenever you called, but you felt so bad for disturbing him, even if it was just to get a nut from the sound of his voice alone.

you decided to try and settle it out yourself in hopes that you could have at least one orgasm before sleep naturally came over you. but with your plush legs spread open to the wall full of pictures of you two, you screwed your eyes shut in frustration when you couldn’t get yourself to cum. twenty minutes had passed by and you were growing annoyed for the lack of a nice orgasm.

finally giving into your nasty desires, you picked up your phone and clicked on law’s contact to facetime, resting the phone on the pillow by your ear, hand still between your hands and rubbing at your clit. you’re breathing heavily when he finally answers.

“hm?” you look over at your phone and notice that law is laying down with near closed eyes, the room to his quarters barely lit. “you alright baby?” his voice is groggy and tired. you felt bad for bothering him.

“i’m sorry,” you choked out. “just wanted to hear your voice is all. go back to sleep.” you’re prepared to hang up and just deal with your orgasm yourself but stopped when law hums in decline.

law opens one eye and furrows his brow as to why he was staring at the ceiling. “it’s alright. you okay?”

you breath out, rubbing your clit at the sound of his voice. even that was enough to get you to cum. “yeah, i’m good. just miss you.”

your man lets out a yawn as he finally sits up a bit and eyes the camera. “i miss you too. you sure you’re okay? you sound like something is bothering you.”

“law, please talk to me,” you whisper softly, “say something sexy, please baby. how was your day at work?”

“it’s fine. had a knee and back surgery today. the back one nearly blew me out from how intricate it was. one wrong move and you could nick an artery in the spinal cord and permanently paralyze the patient…” it doesn’t take long for your doctor boyfriend to hang onto your words once he hears your unsteady breathing grow louder. “you in bed right now?” you hum out a response and nod your head, forgetting he couldn’t see you. now law was more awake as the topic of conversation intrigued him. his voice remains low as he thinks about you in all your glory. “you touching yourself?”

“mhm,” you let out. “keep—keep telling me about your day, baby please.”

“you really couldn’t wait, huh?” he chuckled lowly. it was just like you to be impatient. “thought i told you i’ll deal with you when i get home in a few hours, hm? you know my work days are boring.”

“fuck,” you drew out. it wasn’t unusual for you to be the perverted one in the relationship. law was more of the quiet one but you never had a problem with expressing yourself—oncoming orgasms included. “c-couldn’t wait. g-gonna cum soon.”

your chest is heaving up and down as law responds, dominance slowly peaking into his still hoarse vocie. “alright. you gonna do everything i tell you to, baby?”

you slip your middle finger into your cunt, slowly teasing yourself in hopes of tricking your body into thinking it was law touching you, but your body knew better than that. no one could ever replace the surgeon of death’s hands. “yes daddy, just make me cum please,” you whisper, eyes fully closed now.

the sound of a zipper is being heard from the phone, and you could only assume that law was mirroring your actions in the confinements of his own room, pulling his fat cock out the tent of his pants. with a heavy breath, he mutters, “rub that clit for me. nice and slow, okay, baby? just let me take control.”

you nod your head and do as told, handling your little bud with the utmost care as law would have. a few seconds into doing so, you can’t help but ask, “you touching yourself?”

small grunts and moans from law’s end of the phone tells you all you need to know as he breathes heavily. “no other choice but to,” he grits out, referring to your irresistible personality that only got more attractive during your mutual masturbation sessions. only you could wake the surgeon three hours before his next surgery for some phone sex and an orgasm. “go ahead ‘n put a finger in for me just the way i do it.”

“as long as you rub your thumb over your fat tip,” you whisper, pumping your middle finger in and out of you. “can you do that for me baby? nice and slow.”

“mhm,” law hummed, nodding. “fuck,” he whined lowly. and just like you said, he rolled the D of his right thumb finger right over his reddened tip, sticky with pre-cum as he savored your voice over the phone. “take your tits out. squeeze them just the way you like it.” with your free hand, you opened your robe, revealing your already naked body. “add one more finger.”

you let out a gasp as you feel yourself stretch with the addition of another finger, but not in the same way it does with law’s. “wish i can show you,” you wheeze out. “show you how wet my pussy is for you.”

“i know, mama,” law coos as he talks you through it. “but i’m not there right now so you’re gonna have to work this one out on your own in the mean time. rub your clit clockwise. you know how i do it,”

you frown. “‘s not you, daddy,” you whine, “‘s not gonna work.”

“stop talking and focus,” law’s voice is stern as he practically bites down on his tongue to prevent a loud groan from escaping from his lips. “you wanna call me at 5 in the mornin’ knowin’ i got a surgery to prepare for soon? mhm hmm, shove those fingers up that cunt and be a good girl now.”

you immediately do as told and stuff yourself with another finger. you curve your thumb upward to rub at your clit, causing you to jolt with extra stimulation. “oh fuck,” you whined, kicking ur knees up to the ceiling. you begin to feel a large knot tie in your stomach as you sped up your pace. “keep talking, baby. please.”

“yeah? you like that, mama?” law’s voice is taunting and teasing as he himself begins to lose control of his breathing. “you like it when i talk to you mean like that? you little minx.”

“yes,” you dragged out in a whining tone. “need you so bad, papa, i miss you.” you hadn’t seen your man in four days—of course you were gonna be acting like this.

“fuck,” the young doctor’s straining himself to hear your words. with a few more pumps of his shaft to the sounds of your wet pussy and whiny cries, law finally comes undone, shooting thick ropes of his hot white cum all over his delicate fingers and scrubs.

the proof of his affection continues oozing out the slick red slit of his tip as he bites down on his lip, trying his hardest not to let his sounds travel outside his sleeping quarters. “you gonna cum baby?”

“law, ngh—i’m coming!—“ you’re gasping for air once you finally feel the knot in your stomach come undone once more. fingers soaking up your juices like prunes, your eyes flutter shut when you feel your heart finally slow down. you and your man are both are breathing heavily over the phone when law finally sits up from his position.

“i’m on my way home.”

[dawnoftime22]

clingy baby.

| T.S

Warnings: R being clingy/adorably stubborn with taylor, taylor carrying you around nearly all day, one short scene of a shower together with little detail, and a taste of pancake batter

Summary: A sweet morning spent with Taylor, making pancakes while clinging onto her each time you could.

Word Count: 2.7k

Category: Fluff

A/N: honestly this didnt quite turn out to be as 'clingy' as I wanted it to be, but its definitely still adorably in the story! enjoy<3

| Started on 02/06/2024, 9:01 AM |

| Finished on 29/09/2024, 5:01 PM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

“baby, be as sweet, as caring, and as clingy as you want to be...because i love you.”

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

This sweet morning was cozy and warm, spent all curled up with Taylor. There were no duty calls for today, so she chose to stay in bed with you, nestled against her chest.

She was already up, her hands gently combing through your hair as she gazes off, getting spaced out. A few strands of hair were also curling with the movement of her fingers.

You, on the other hand, have been in and out of sleep since the first time you woke up, having the desire to get all the rest you could, to which, Taylor did the same, but now both of you were fully awake, cuddling under the covers.

She couldn't go back to sleep even if she wanted to, and you knew your body would ache if you slept any longer, not to mention the headaches.

You move for a stretch, looking just like one of her cats that would elongate their bodies. You get all your joints ready for the day before relaxing back into your original position, feeling her comfort.

When a yawn starts to escape your lips, you use Taylor's chest to hide half your face, nuzzling into her. The blonde smiles, softly gazing down at you.

She leans down to place a kiss at the top of your head, then gives you a gentle squeeze in her embrace. "Baby...lets get up...its afternoon..." she whispered softly, your messy morning hair against her face.

"Mm, just a few more minutes," you murmur, burrowing further into her as your own arms tighten their hold around her. She could almost feel the pout on your lips through her clothes. It was everything adorable to her, but the time on the clock holding double digits showed that you both had stayed in bed much longer than you should have.

She takes a breath in, then lets it out softly. "Okay...well then, you stay here while I take a shower," she suggests, smiling teasingly before she starts moving to get up.

"Nooo...I wanna come with you," you softly whined, pulling her back as she sat up. Without hesitation, she pauses, glancing to you with a knowing playful look, determined to have you up.

"Get up then, love," she says, her nod urging as she keeps her eyes in contact with yours. The pout on your lips deepened, with the smallest hint of frustration of the choice you're left with; get out of the bed that was warm and cozy only to feel your aching bones, or stay in bed but feel the coldness of it being empty without her.

"Hmh." You huff, turning your face to the sheets slightly. Your shoulders even slump downwards, and it was hard for her to not let out a small chuckle.

"Come on." She urges, gently pulling your hand. You eventually relented, sitting up, and standing on your feet with enough loving from her, but staying close to her still, arms holding onto her.

Taylor smiles, not minding it since you were now at least out of bed. Her arm wraps around your waist, pressing you closer to her. But seeing as you might not possibly budge from your current spot, she decides to pick you up into her arms.

You blink at the sudden change of height, your arms holding onto her, but in a way, it felt more comforting. Besides, you were as close to her as you could be like this.

Your path took you to the bathroom, where Taylor gently puts you down to turn on the water, adjusting it to the right temperature for a perfect shower.

Once she was done, she helps you undress, even with the pout she had to kiss away, along with a few tickling kisses she left at your neck and cheek.

The shower was spent with love and care, her hands gliding over your skin without difficulty, careful to be mindful of each area, and planting even more soft kisses, this time on your shoulder.

After some relishing time passes by, you were both soon clean. She wraps you up in the fluffy towels you had, making sure it was secure.

In a small thought, you take a step forward when she covers her own body, reaching out to intertwine your hand with hers, the warmth of her fingers radiating against yours.

She turns her head, smiling at you before gently tugging you off to the bedroom, so you could both get your clothes on. Although, technically, borrowed clothes of each other.

A while after, you sat at the edge of the bed, waiting for her to finish buttoning up her white shirt. She turns around, seeing you swinging your legs carefreely. When she takes her steps towards you, a smile instantly pulls at your lips.

The gaze she reflects back had the same adorning look as yours, her arms going around your waist to gently pull you closer. She nuzzles against your nose, further going in for a soft kiss.

You return it with all the warm love thats been making your heart melt just like the sunshine does to ice creams.

In an instinctive moment, your arms wrap around her, softly breaking the kiss to pull her in for a hug. Her arms embrace you, with not a single ounce of affection missing.

She was about to lean back when your arms only tightened around her, and she chuckles, shaking her head.

When she gently picks you up just like earlier, you were grateful, holding onto her. Your heart beated against her chest, possibly syncing with hers as your face was against her shoulder.

"I love you," you whisper, the sound of your voice going a little melodically in contentment from being with her.

She grins, and leaves a kiss at the top of your head. "I love you too, sweetheart," she returns back the three words, adding in the loving nickname she always uses.

A hum came from her throat, soft and quiet. "What should we have for breakfast today?" she asks, swaying lightly to induce some serene and calmness for the two of you.

You hum yourself, turning your face out from her shoulder. Seconds go by in thought, feeling her comfort in the meanwhile. "I'm thinking...pancakes," you finally answer, smiling.

Her nose scrunches up in happiness, looking at you softly. "Pancakes it is." She nods, walking forward to get out the bedroom.

Feeling your weight in her arms almost kept her grounded in a way. Her morning mind was staying clear of any lesser thoughts, and only the thoughts of taking care of you and making breakfast were present.

Once she arrives to the kitchen, she sets you down on one of the barstools at the kitchen island. You were still close to her, but resting instead of moving around a lot.

She kisses you softly, about to go grab the pan for the pancakes, but just before she walks away completely, she goes to pick up Olivia, putting her in your lap so you had something to distract yourself with.

You stay with the sweet cat for a few minutes, gently petting her head and stroking her fur. Sure she kept you company, but as you continued to watch Taylor, you couldn't help but feel restless.

Your teeth sinks into your lip at a decision, and it wasn't long before you set the cat down on the floor.

A meow came from the feline, and you smile at her, giving her a few more pets before standing up and making your way to Taylor.

She was mixing up the batter of the pancake when she felt a pair of arms going around her waist, making her slow her stirring. She turns to look over her shoulder, a smile raising up on her lips when she sees you, head resting against her back.

The batter calms down into a more flat looking state when she stops completely, pausing to reach one of her arms around your shoulder, pulling you to her side. Then, she continues mixing.

"You wanna help, baby?" she asks, tilting her head as her eyes flicker between the bowl and you. For a moment, at the notice of your bitten lip, her hand reaches up to brush against your lip so it was free before returning her hand to the comforting spot on your shoulder.

You peek at her progress, then nod eagerly at her question. She hums softly for a moment, thinking of what you could do and choosing the options in her head.

"Cut some strawberries and apples for me?" she suggests, looking to you for your reaction. But you were already on your way to the fridge, having let go of her. A small chuckle escapes her, her gaze staying on you for a moment before focusing back to the pancakes.

You grab some strawberries from its original container, washing them in water for a moment. You repeat the same action with the apples, then place it onto the wooden cutting board, both your hands and the fruit now clean.

Some gentle background music starts up when Taylor tapped play on her phone, brushing her hands on her apron, then continuing back to set the pan on the stove.

You eye the bowl that had the pancake batter, seeing that she was distracted with making sure the pan was heated fine. Deciding to take your chance, you take a step to the side and poke a finger ever so slightly into the batter, quickly taking a small taste.

Her head turns back to the bowl to pick it up, but when she sees you, her eyes widen much further, identifying the fact that you had stolen a little bit of it by the fact that you had your finger in your mouth for just a small second.

"Hey! Hands off." She gently swats your hand away, picking her bowl up and protectively pulling it to her chest. A giggle sounds out from you, and you move back to your own place.

"I needed to make sure they were good..." you murmur, grabbing the knife to cut the fruit, placing a single strawberry on the board carefully.

Meanwhile, Taylor had gasped, putting her hand on her heart to feign that you had offended her. "How dare you. You know my cooking is good," she says, staring at you for a moment before turning back to the stove.

But she pauses without even a second later, her hands still lifted up with the bowl. She bit her lip, looking at you once more. "But how was it?" she asks, looking expectantly as her cheeks came up with a faint blush.

You just barely saw it when you took a glance, and you had to stifle a giggle, only your lips curled up. "Delicious, as always," you assure her. She nods, thankful for your reply.

"Good," she whispers, returning back to her pancake making; putting the bowl back down, and then swiping some oil on the pan first.

You keep your focus on cutting your side nutritional snacks, having already finished up with the strawberries and setting them aside, to then working on the apples.

Taylor hummed along to the music, dancing here and there. When you went to throw away the centre of the apples you had cut off, you caught her doing a silly dance move that made you giggle with a shake of your head.

Her own laughter came into sound until she grabs a ladle and starts scooping up the pancake batter, making sure it wasn't dripping before she slowly pours it down onto the heated pan.

You put the cut fruit onto a plate, arranging them down before you peek at her cooking once again, and right in the perfect timing. She goes to flip it over, revealing the beautifully cooked side.

"Ooh, that's perfectly golden," you say, your face brightening at the sight. Taylor smiles widely, letting out a small giggle too. "I know, right?" She adds, leaning towards you to give you a nudge with her shoulder.

You then prepare the plates, helping her put the pancakes on them once the waiting for each side was finished. She did some smaller pancakes with the extra batter, saving them as a movie snack for later.

As you waited for her to put all the pancakes on your plate, you were putting some cut up strawberries atop her pancake, serving it as topping, just how she liked it.

She glances to you to see her meal beautifully decorated, and it made her smile as she picks up your plate. "Thank you." She leans in, giving a soft peck to your cheek.

A flush of pink crosses your face, and you smiled, helping her bring her own plate to the table too, following behind her as she puts yours in front of your usual spot.

You placed her pancake with the strawberry topping next to yours, making it so you were sitting side by side.

You took your seat, but scooted your chair a little closer to her, sliding your pancake closer to yourself, then going to pick up the fork and knife.

She settles herself down too, looking at you with a gentle gaze. The two of you enjoy your sweet breakfast, maple syrup being poured and dripping down the stack of fluffy pancakes.

You took a few apple slices too, putting them on your plate so you could easily pierce your fork through them without having to reach your arm out every time. Taylor sneakily stole one with her own fork, taking a bite of it. When you saw it, your eyes instantly go to her.

"Hey, thats mine." You call her out, your shoulders falling into a small slump. You had claimed specifically those slices for yourself, until she rudely, although gently, snatched it away.

"You stole a taste of my pancake batter..." she mumbles, her expression mindless as you watch her with an unamused gaze. Her hand was moving to cut a few more pieces of her pancake, and she was holding back a smile.

"But they're right there," you say, gesturing to the plate still full of the fruit you had beautifully put out, and a small giggle escapes the blonde.

"I had to make sure they were good...and safe for you to eat," she teasingly said. The words escaped with her soft breath, and it connected to the ones you had said earlier.

You shook your head, smiling widely at her playful behaviour, but continued with your breakfast anyway.

The time passes, and it wasn't long until you were soon left with empty plates, but full stomachs, standing up from your chairs.

You help Taylor clean up, picking the plates up from the table to wash them, and clearing up the counters of any leftover ingredients or cooking items.

As soon as you were done, the gentle clink of the final plate had sounded out from the dish rack; a sign of Taylor's own work being finished. You were leaning against the kitchen counter, your hands at the edge of it.

"Tay," You whisper, your lips forming a pout. She was wiping off the water splashes on the counter and dries her hands, using the small towel that was hanging on the oven handle.

"Mm?" She hums softly, slowly stopping to turn and look at you. When she sees you putting your arms out, her heart couldn't melt anymore with love, knowing exactly what you were asking for.

"Come here," she urges softly, her hands gesturing until you walk close enough to her. Once you were inches away, she waits until you put your arms around her before she gently hooks her hands underneath the back of your knees, picking you up.

"You're so clingy today, sweetheart," she whispers, rubbing your back with one of her hands as she goes to kiss the top of your head.

"I'm sorry...I just miss you," you murmur, burying your face into her neck. The warmth she radiated was everything to you, and the air that you breathed had a familiar scent.

"No need to be sorry. I'm just teasing you, love." she whispers, leaning back to kiss you, then moving to nuzzle her nose against yours sweetly.

"Besides..." she starts, walking off to where your shared bedroom is, the sun still gently coming through the windows to keep the space alit.

You listen on, but you were also caught up in just being close to her, until she gently sets you down at the edge of the bed, which made you lean back curiously.

She smiles, slowly letting one of her hands trail off you. "Your girlfriend's got muscles for days, sweetheart," she said, a gentle wink going with her eye, playfully showing her biceps. You easily giggled softly, shaking your head at her antics.

Her grin widens with her own laugh, just before it slowly fades, and her lips hide her teeth. "I missed you too, you know?" she whispers, her hands returning to holding you.

"And I quite like this side of you. It gets me the excuse to carry you around and get kisses all the time." Her eyes were filled with only love and adoration, even as she leans down to rest her head against your shoulder.

The curl of your lips linger at her reassurance, and you keep the eye contact. "You don't need an excuse for that." The words were a hushed sound within your breath, escaping with affection.

"I know I don't," she reasons, tilting her head to look up at you. Then, moves to brush her lips against yours, up until they're captured in a sweet kiss.

She sighs softly, and you could feel her breath, fanning against your skin. "You feel so right in my arms..." she murmurs, nuzzling into you once more.

"I love you," you say, and to her ears, all she heard was the cutest voice in the whole world, from her most favorite person, someone she'd keep preciously all to herself.

Her smile was knowing. Knowing, so much, that this will be forever for once in her life. That she'll always love you, even fall for you entirely all over again and again, and you will always love her just as much.

And without hesitation, she whispers back,

"I love you, too."

---------------------

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[toournextadventure]

everyone but her pt.41

Summary: You were getting used to the weird. Hell, you were almost even comfortable with it. But when weird turns to unsettling, you panic. At least Wednesday's there to panic with you.

Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: swearing, violence, arson, mentions of murder, slight gore Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (Masterlist)

It was dark and you couldn’t breathe.

No, that didn’t seem right. You were still alive, weren’t you? Surely you could breathe. With great effort, you inhaled deeply, filling your lungs with the hot summer air. Every moment of it hurt, but you could breathe. Okay, that was much easier to work with, now you needed to focus on the dark.

Wednesday had invested in even thicker blackout curtains (which were unnecessary, though appreciated), so that must have been it. There was a dull pain in your eyes - yes, actually in your eyes - but you marked it down to still being exhausted. The alarm clock on Wednesday’s nightstand read 3:33 am; way too early to be awake. It was no surprise your eyes were hurting.

It wasn’t immediately obvious why you had woken up at such an unusual time. Wednesday was still asleep in your arms, her head tucked carefully underneath your jaw. Her breathing was deep and even and, against her desire, she was almost horrendously warm.

If she was still with you, what could be wrong? You couldn’t remember a nightmare - even though your racing heart said otherwise - and there weren’t any strange sounds in the room. The muscles in your back pulled with the shift of your wings; you still couldn’t tell what was wrong.

You settled deeper into the bed and held Wednesday tighter. Her breathing caught for a moment before resuming its typical slow pace. The thought nearly made you laugh. If you hadn’t known her better, you too would have assumed she was nothing more than a corpse. She was completely still and you could barely feel her breath on your skin. Which was exactly what she was going for, but it was still funny to you.

Maybe nothing was wrong. Your eyes slipped shut at the unsurprising revelation. Just because you were wide awake and panicking didn’t mean something was wrong. That was one of the benefits of dating an Addams; she always made you panic - in a good way - and helped you learn not everything meant something. Sometimes life just moves on without a single care for you. Not everything mattered. That was something you could live with.

They’re dying.

You exhaled through your nose, causing Wednesday to shift momentarily. She quickly settled again. For the past few weeks, the voice stayed within the confines of your nightmares. It maintained a presence on the fringes of your mind, only coming forth when you were already beaten and broken. But when it stayed away from your waking hours, you couldn’t complain.

However, you were not having a nightmare, you were awake, and it was making its presence known. Perfect. Fantastic. You loved hearing your personal doomsayer wax poetic when you were trying to fall back asleep with your girlfriend. Besides, why was it so vague? Normally it was painfully specific, what gives? You kept your eyes closed; it would need to try harder to get your attention.

Your parents, the voice said, the children.

You held your breath and waited. Wednesday moved in your arms.

Your grandparents. They’re burning.

That got your attention.

One of the benefits of Wednesday being, well, Wednesday, was she slept like the dead. Both physically and literally. She had convinced your entire friend group that she was a light sleeper and no one could ever sneak up on her, but you knew it was a lie. Hell, you swore she wouldn’t wake up even if a nuclear war started around her.

It came in handy when you wriggled your way out of bed. You smiled to yourself at Wednesday’s adorable nose scrunch when you pulled your arm out from under her head, but she was still within moments once again. She looked so peaceful there on the bed. Even with your body removed, she stayed curled up on her side with her hands tucked beneath her chin.

You loved her.

You would die for her.

You would kill for her.

They’re dying for you.

Your beating heart was almost painful in your chest as you willed your body to move. It was soon accompanied by a sharp pain radiating from your toe as you, unsurprisingly, tripped over Wednesday’s shoes. It wasn’t the first time. And you couldn’t even get upset because she had placed them exactly where she always did. Maybe you just needed to pay more attention to your surroundings.

You were taking too long. A nail was driven into your brain, sticking gruesome images into every space in your head. Fire. You forced some shoes on. Screaming. The jacket felt too small; you didn’t care. Burning wood creating an inferno. Your fingers jammed into the doorknob, and you swore under your breath before successfully grabbing it.

“Cara mia?”

The sounds and images in your mind remained, but they parted to give way to Wednesday’s small, sleepy voice. If anyone could see her at that moment, tired and small and vulnerable, they wouldn’t have believed it was her. She was growing soft, but even in that moment, she was still your girl. Your love.

They’re burning while you stay here.

“Go back to sleep,” you said softly as you walked back over to the bed. The voice started to grow louder in your mind.

“What’s wrong?” She asked. The sleep started to slip away and she looked more alert. Her usual state since she had restarted her investigation board.

There was no use in lying to her. “I have a bad feeling about home,” you told her. “I’m going to go check on them.”

Wednesday held your gaze until you were both uncomfortable. “Give me a moment and we’ll go.”

The voice started screaming in your mind. It was deafening and left a distinct ringing in your ears. The first few months of its disturbance had nearly driven you insane. The constant screaming, the bloody, gorey images, the fear response your body would have. All of it had left you feeling like you were losing your mind and you wouldn’t be able to pull yourself out of it.

Now, however, you could cope. At least in the short term. You had worked out a plan with Wednesday, and it had yet to fail you. Whenever the screaming started, or the images put too much pressure, you would just look at her and focus on whatever she was doing. It was simple, Yoko had even teased it was a bit self-centred of Wednesday, and yet it worked.

You watched as she pulled on something a bit comfier; something she wouldn’t mind flying with. She grabbed the shoes you had stubbed your toe on and slid them onto her feet effortlessly. She also made sure to toss you a single shoe and, when you looked down, you saw the matching pair on your left foot. Your right was in a lazily-tied boot that did not match.

Wednesday also tugged your jacket off; which wasn’t actually your jacket.

“Let’s go,” she said as she grabbed your hand and started dragging you out the door.

You didn’t have to ask if she was good with flying; you knew she wasn’t. But she was brave - as she had often insisted - and she wrapped her arms around your neck the moment you both got outside the apartment building. In return, you wrapped your arms around her waist before taking off. Perhaps you would need to get a harness for your rare flights together. Now that would be funny.

The voices got louder the closer you got to the house. That… wasn’t a comforting thought. You were sure Wednesday could hear your racing heart from where she was resting her head, but you didn’t care. Something just didn’t feel right. The feathers of your wings puffed up and the hair on your arms stood up and you weren’t sure what to do.

Your hands stopped shaking when Wednesday started lightly scratching the back of your neck. It was an uncomfortable position for her; flying itself was weird even when it was just you. There was no telling how many dozens of flights you had experimented with to get the hang of how to hold your body. If Wednesday had flown with you more than the required minimum, she would have been able to figure it out too.

At another time it would have been funny. Now it just left your palms clammy and your grip tighter.

The world was distressingly quiet when yours and Wednesday’s feet planted on the ground. You couldn’t hear the birds chirping, nor the goats bleating as they stayed up later than they should. Every light in the house was off - as they should be so late at night - but it still didn’t feel right. Every fibre of your being was on high alert.

Even the voices had grown silent.

“I see nothing wrong,” Wednesday said, her voice sounding extraordinarily loud in the silence.

“Me either,” you mumbled.

Your eyes darted every which way. The barn looked completely untouched, aside from someone forgetting to properly latch the door. The limbs of the surrounding trees swayed in the barely noticeable wind. To your left, on the other side of Wednesday, you could see the empty doghouse. Nothing was out of sorts.

That was unusual enough.

Finally, a larger gust of wind blew by, ruffling through the leaves and your hair. It felt nice on a summer night. Nothing was more unbearable than the stillness of summer heat. You let your head fall back a little to enjoy the breeze and inhaled deeply.

Then you froze.

“Do you smell that?” You asked as your head slowly lowered.

“Yoko warned me that was a trick question,” Wednesday answered.

“What?” You asked, then smiled to yourself. Oh yeah. You had pranked Yoko plenty of times with that question. “No, I’m being serious this time.”

Wednesday looked around. “I don’t smell anything.”

You hummed in response. She didn’t smell it. But you knew it was there, and it was familiar. The name was on the tip of your tongue, you could almost taste it. A strong taste that clung to every taste bud, taunting and teasing you to think of the name. It was a mix of sticky and bitter and intense and… like a sharpie? Maybe?

Well that just sounded stupid, you would keep thinking about it.

“I’m just going to look around real quick,” you said. “Go wait inside.”

“And if your Grandfather has a gun?”

You faltered.

“Don’t go inside,” you corrected. The corner of her mouth ticked upward. “I’ll be right back.”

Her knuckles brushed against the back of your arm before you started your way around the yard. Twigs snapped under foot; the only sound that reached your ears. Even the birds were silent. That was the part that worried you. You walked further into the tree line, following the smell, and the birds stayed silent.

The smell was stronger in the tree line behind the house. It pervaded all of your senses, you just couldn’t quite tell where it was coming from. You stepped precariously, not wanting to get too close to whatever it was. Though you still couldn’t name it properly, you knew what it was; it smelled like danger. 

You took another step forward and reached your hand out to a tree trunk for support. It was wet. Sticky. Whatever it was, the trunk was soaked in it. You pulled your hand away and held it up in front of your face to see what it was. The lack of light didn’t help, but it was something dark.

The smell nearly made you gag. It was nauseatingly strong and very much not natural to the area. The liquid trickled down your arm slowly until you let it fall back to your side. Your eyes trailed down the tree, following the liquid until you could see it puddled on the ground. 

It was shiny, and when you tilted your head to let the moonlight catch, it almost looked like a little rainbow was trapped within it.

You stood up quickly and eyed the shimmering line leading directly to the back of the house. Your house. The house where your family was fast asleep. The feathers on your wings were standing up so high it was almost painful. Each step you took toward the house was like moving through the water.

Something sparked and popped behind you.

“Oh fuck.”

A wave of heat hit your back. Thankfully it wasn’t strong enough to push you forward, but that didn’t mean it didn’t light a fire under your ass. The spark of the fire slowly grew to a roar as you sprinted to the house. You wanted to scream, to get someone’s attention, to wake up everyone in the house before you could get there.

The scream lodged itself in your throat even as you rounded the corner of the house. Your turn was too sharp, and your feet kept sliding across the too-dry dirt. Loose gravel embedded itself into the palm of your hand as you fell. It was almost second nature to dig your fingers into the ground and pull yourself forward while simultaneously pushing yourself back to your feet.

Ringing echoed in your ears as you ripped the screen door and threw the front door open. It should have made a loud “thud.” You couldn’t hear it. There should have been a plan. You should have made a plan. But the only thing in your head was static; a red static that left your head feeling heavy.

A hand rested on your arm.

“Wake up your parents,” Wednesday said. Her voice sounded like it was muffled by a pillow. “I’ll wake up the kids.”

Okay. That was a plan. Someone had a plan. You could work with that. You didn’t wait for her before running up the stairs, three at a time. None of the stairs creaked, at least not that you could hear. Down the hall, third door on the right, it hit the wall so hard you could feel the floor shake.

At last, you heard a noise. A gun being cocked.

“I ain’t afraid to shoot.”

You stared down the barrel. The voice slowly started to creep back into your mind. A low rumble accompanied by the crackling of the distant fire. Only the fire wasn’t outside, it was within you. Burning hotter and hotter until you wanted to rip your skin off and feel the light summer breeze once again.

You stared down the barrel of the gun.

“Y/N?”

You blinked slowly.

“The hell are you doin’ here?” Pop asked. “Thought you was some critter from the woods.” You didn’t move. “Coulda shot you, baby bird.”

You’ll get him killed.

“What’s wrong?”

Each muscle in your body was locked; you couldn’t move.

“And why the hell you smell like a barrel of gasoline?”

Tell him.

The muscles of your jaw tensed when you opened it and closed it a few times. Fire. The house. Run. No words would come out. They stuck in the back of your throat like a cold. But you had to tell him. You had to warn them. The crackling was growing louder.

“Wednesday?”

Someone sidled up next to you. You didn’t have to guess who.

“Will someone please tell me what the hell is goin’ on?” Pop demanded.

You’re all going to die.

You were silent.

“The house is on fire,” Wednesday said.

Five words. You couldn’t even say five words.

Pop nodded once and shook the body beside him. “Come on, Momma, we gotta go.”

You clenched your jaw and watched them get up. Watched them do the things you couldn’t make your body do. Why couldn’t you just answer them and move? How was Wednesday doing all of it while you just stood there on the sidelines like it wasn’t your family in danger?

Nicky would be very disappointed in you.

“Go grab your Abuelita,” Pop said when he was suddenly standing in front of you. When had he gotten there? “Wednesday, you help Momma grab a few things.”

Wednesday nodded once and walked over to where Momma was already starting to gather things. You didn’t know what. All those instincts you had harboured, all those dangerous things you had managed to avoid, and now you were frozen in place. Your feet felt rooted into the ground as if they wanted to stay. As if they wanted to go down with the house.

Maybe they did.

“Y/N.” Fingers snapped in front of your face. You blinked once before using every bit of strength you had to look up into Pop’s eyes. “Get your Abuelita and get the hell out.”

His words echoed in your head, twirling around the voice that continued its onslaught of doom and dread. It didn’t help you move, it didn’t do anything but paralyse you with more fear than you had started with. Fear. That was the word you had been looking for all evening. You were afraid.

Wednesday’s hand brushed against your arm, the one not covered in gasoline. Not that it would have mattered, it sent a jolt through your body anyway. A jolt that gave you just enough energy to finally move your body. One step at a time, getting progressively easier until you made it to your grandparents’ room.

They were already up.

“Help an old woman down the stairs,” Abuelita said as she reached forward. You held out your dry arm for her.

“I’ve got the important things,” Grandpa said, hoisting a duffle over his shoulder and following you both out of the door.

You could smell the smoke when you approached the stairs. A red glow reflected off the front wall of the house. The sight nearly had you frozen in place again. The kitchen was on fire. It was on fire. Your house was burning.

You’re all going to die because you can’t move.

“Keep moving, puișor,” Grandpa said with a gentle nudge.

It was enough to keep you in step. The way down the stairs was slow, and Abuelita seemed to be in no true rush. Did she know something you didn’t? No, she was simply old, that must be it. By the time you got down the stairs, you could feel the heat of the fire suffocating your every breath.

Everyone else was already out by the road when you managed to get Abuelita and Grandpa out as well. You stood up straight and started counting heads; two parents, two grandparents, six kids, one girlfriend. That was everyone. The roar of the fire grew louder.

Everyone was safe.

You’re forgetting something.

Were you?

“Wait,” Emily said. “I forgot Miss Spider.”

“We’ll get you a new one, baby,” Momma said as she held onto Emily’s arm to keep her still.

“But Nicky got her for me.”

Nicky.

You forgot Nicky.

You looked up and met Wednesday’s gaze. Her eyes were wide and you could see the ever-growing fire reflected in them. You took one step backward. She shook her head slowly. Each step had her shaking her head increasingly fast.

You forgot Nicky in the house.

You turned and sprinted toward the house.

“Y/N, get back here!”

Everyone’s voices were drowned out by the fire. A loud mixture of sounds that created a horrific orchestra from hell. The crackling fire, the roaring heat, the wood burning away and crumbling to the ground. It wasn’t even the heat that had you hesitate; it was the sound.

You forgot Nicky.

The steps were hot as you sprinted up the stairs. They weren’t burning just yet, but they were hot. Your bedroom door was still wide open, and you could see the flames licking up the window. Miss Spider was laying on the floor beside Emily’s bed, miraculously unscathed aside from what looked like a single scorch mark on one of the legs. You snatched it up and shoved it under your shirt to keep it safe as you made your way out.

“You gonna forget me?”

You froze. The floor got hotter underneath your feet. Smoke continued to invade your senses, filling your lungs and suffocating your very thoughts. You needed to get Miss Spider back down to Emily. But you couldn’t leave him.

You turned back to face the room and stood tall. The last time you had seen him had been that one weekend at the Addams’ household. He had stayed fairly under wraps, as far as you could remember. He seemed shorter. Or perhaps you had just grown.

“You left me waiting long enough,” Nicky teased. “I thought you were gonna leave me here.”

A lick of fire brushed against your bare leg.

“I’d never leave you,” you said with no effort at all. “That’s why I came back.”

“Then come on,” he said as he held out his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

You looked down at the hand he was offering you. It was normal. No IV scars, no cuts, no dirt, no fire. It was his normal hand that you had held time and time again. It was Nicky. Your Nicky. Miss Spider’s legs itched and tickled under your shirt when you took a step forward and lifted your hand.

The fire continued to rise around him, but you couldn’t feel the heat. All you really needed to do was reach out and take his hand. Then he could come back home, and you could all be a family again. He could properly meet Wednesday, and Hailey wouldn’t be so mad, and you could all belong. 

That was all you really wanted, right? To belong? To have Nicky by your side as you both grew out of the trauma that had been inflicted upon you for no other reason than being different? You could have that. You could have your brother, and your girlfriend, and your family. You could have it all. You just simply had to reach out and take his hand.

“We can sneak out and go camping,” he said. “Mom and Dad can go with us.”

Your muscles locked up again when your fingers were only centimetres away from his.

“What?” Nicky asked. “What’s wrong?”

Flames continued to climb up your legs.

“Nicky hated them,” you said with a shake of your head. “He would never invite them.”

The smell of burning feathers permeated the air.

“Don’t turn your back on me now,” he said in a voice that was no longer his. “Just come with me.” 

You looked down at where your outstretched hand nearly met his. His skin was black; charred and bloody. Following up his arm removed the char but was replaced with lacerations. Blood. Injuries that had been carved into the inside of your skull, unable to be scrubbed away no matter how many years it had been.

His eyes were pale.

It wasn’t your Nicky.

Fire jumped from his hand to yours; it caught the gasoline on your fingers. You couldn’t feel it race up your arm. At least, you couldn’t feel the pain. It simply felt like a tickle against your skin. But it didn’t matter; it wasn’t your Nicky, and you weren’t taking him with you.

You pulled your arm back to your body and turned around, nearly tripping over your own feet in an attempt to run from the burning house. Your burning house. You took no risk of falling down the stairs, instead just jumping from the top floor and landing on the ground with a harsh “thud.” The first sign of pain was in your knee. It didn’t stop you from running out of the house.

The air was clear outside. Muffled voices reached your ears once you were far enough away from the screaming fire. In the distance, you could hear sirens. Something wrapped around your arm, and you finally felt the pain. A burn that was nothing short of indescribable.

You still couldn’t scream.

Instead, against the screaming coming from every atom of your body, you reached under your shirt with your good hand and handed Miss Spider to Emily. She said something that you couldn’t hear. You hoped it was something nice. People were still talking to you when you turned back around.

Nicky’s silhouette stood in the window of your burning home.

—---

“Can’t thank ya enough, Mr. and Mrs. Addams,” Pop said after Lurch had led the kids upstairs to get them settled in their own rooms.

“It’s our pleasure,” Mr. Addams said with a wave of his hand. “You’re all Addamses now, you’re always welcome.”

“Thank you for letting the littles bring Steve,” Momma said.

“Pugsley loves pets,” Mrs. Addams replied. “He’s always happy to have more.”

Both sets of adults kept talking as they made their way into the sitting room. At least you thought that was where they had gone. Truthfully you didn’t know. All you knew was you couldn’t get Nicky’s gaze out of your head. Or, no, it hadn’t really been Nicky, you didn’t think. Something else. Something sinister.

“Cara mia.”

You didn’t want to face her. You couldn’t face her. God, how could you have been so stupid? She shouldn’t have even been there, it had been dangerous from start to finish. You had put Wednesday in danger again. How could that ever be forgiven? She could have died.

“Let’s go.”

She grabbed your good hand and slowly led you to her room.

You didn’t save them all. You squeezed your eyes shut while she guided you. Everyone will burn in the fires of your sins.

Everything hurt when you finally got to her room. You hadn’t heard everything the paramedic had said, but you didn’t have to. It was your body anyway. The soles of your feet were burned, and you would have to regrow more than your fair share of feathers. If you were lucky, you wouldn’t need to do anything else for the burns on your arm.

You weren’t so optimistic, but you would rather die than go back to a hospital.

Wednesday quickly crawled into bed with you after you had both changed into something more comfortable. Everything was still foggy, but you noticed her hesitation before touching you. You didn’t care. You pulled her closer, ignoring the unbearable heat even her body created against the burns. It hurt.

You didn’t care.

“You terrified me,” she said softly, her breath tickling your skin. “I believed I would lose you.”

You couldn’t say anything.

Your mind was running rampant even as Wednesday settled into an unsteady sleep. She nearly had lost you. You had nearly walked into that fire without a single hesitation. If that spectre hadn’t mentioned your parents, you would have taken his hand and stayed in that house until you burned down with it. You would have died without thinking twice. How could you have let that happen?

I’m not done with you yet.

And what if it happened again?

[undercovercameron]

only you

summary: a midnight meeting is never off the table for him.

notes: i cranked this one out like two two weeks ago but i didnt get around to editing it... apologies! this is a continuation of my same person, same mistakes fic, as it concerns rafe with a gf and the reader being highschool fwb with him. features a masturbation kink, dirty talk, and a whole lot of nostalgia! enjoy my darlings, and dont forget to watch the fuck out of obx 3 (i finished it an hour ago and its 2:00 am my time and im not sure). feel free to talk to me about it ;)

tags: rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count: 2213

It’s nearly 3 am when he shows up at your house, mind all over the place, and parks in your driveway. He knows your parents won’t be mad seeing his truck— they can’t help but love him. He slams the driver’s door shut and jogs around to the backyard, breathless in the cooler night air. The grassy shore two hundred or so yards from your house ripples with the harsh wind of early summer storms, and he wipes a hand at his forehead. It’s still hot. 

Rounding the corner, he sees the metal basin that curves around one of your basement bedroom windows, and drops down onto the gravel that lies at the bottom. 

You barely register the sound, fast asleep in your bed when he glances in at the dark room. 

He digs around for a second in the gravel and finds the familiar curve of the window key and quickly unlocks the latch. Throwing it back down, he uses his arms to push up on the handle and slide it far enough so that he can crawl in. 

You turn onto your back in your bed, and he nearly smiles at how you look. So calm, yet so stressed with your eyebrows drawn. But Rafe just hops into your air conditioned room clumsily, shoes quiet on the carpet, and nearly tips over into your desk. He turns to the window and closes it quietly. 

He takes a moment to listen for any movement in the house. He knows your parents go to bed before midnight, so they’re sound asleep—he’s mainly worried about your brother. He was such a cock block in highschool. 

You move in the sheets again and his attention is drawn back to you. You’re so peaceful. Oh, well. 

“Y/N,” he whispers, and reaches to shake your leg. You lick your lips and burrow deeper into your pillow. “Y/N!” He raises his voice, glancing at your locked door. 

“Hm,” is all that comes from your mouth, and your eyelids twitch. 

“Fuck,” he curses to himself. Fine. Grabbing one of your ankles, he drags you to the foot of the bed. 

“Hey!” You croak, startled awake, and blink furiously around. “Oh.” You clear your throat and wipe your eyes. There’s a handsome man at the foot of your bed.

“Hey,” he says, looking down at you, and his hand finds your shoulder. You’re dressed in soft shorts and a skimpy tank top in an effort to remain cool in this summer heat—it makes his heart thump against the wall of his chest.

“Why’re you here?” You ask, voice still groggy, and your skin erupts in goosebumps where his fingers move. 

“I told you I’d come today.” 

“Yeah, during the daytime.” Your eyebrows draw together and you push up onto a hand. “Not in the middle of the night.”

“Do you want me to leave?” His eyes stare down at yours. You look over him, liking the way those jeans and flannel shirt look on him. The crickets chirp outside, and you hear a branch moved by wind brush the side of your house. His hand migrates and a thumb rubs at the skin of your stomach, nudging the hem of your tank top up. 

“No,” you finally settle on, and he steps closer to the bed. 

“Okay,” he murmurs, and dips. Your lips connect, soft against soft, and you shiver. He smells like the sun and that car freshener he keeps in the glove compartment. His hands find your hair, cradling your head, and your body prickles at the touch. It’s so late, and he’s so warm— you just melt into him. You grip at the sides of his shirt and fall back onto your bed, taking him with you. 

He grunts, pulling away from your mouth for a second, and follows you up the bed as you move closer to the headboard. He looks huge like this.

Your legs come together.

He bites his lip and with a hand on your knee moves them back apart. You settle with your shoulders against your pillow, and he leans down, between your legs once more, and kisses you. 

“Rafe,” you mutter into his mouth, and he hums wordlessly in response. Your body is so soft and nice when you arch up into him that he forgets about anything besides you. You grab at his hand at your waist and drag it up your body, and when his thumb brushes your hardening nipple the crotch of his pants tightens. Fuck. 

He pushes his knees into your bed, keeping your legs spread for him, and straightens. His large hands fumble with the buttons of his shirt, and he shrugs it off. The material of the shirt underneath nearly rips with how quick he takes it off. His skin is shiny and strong in the moonlight, and it takes all of your mental strength to not lean up and kiss all over his chest. That would mean you’re desperate to feel and touch him— and you’re definitely not. Between your legs definitely doesn’t ache terribly when he unbuttons his jeans. 

“Please.” You lean up to him, sliding a warm hand around his shoulders, and bring him back down with you. He makes a noise when he feels your fingernails scrape his skin, but your mouth is back on his, so what reason is there to complain? His nose brushes your cheek when he pulls away to tug the tank top strap off of your shoulder, and you shudder in the cold air. 

His thumb nudges your nipple back and forth, making your blood rush in your ears as your chest heaves, and he bows to catch it in his mouth. Rafe sucks, pink lips perfect just for this, and you arch up into him. The scent of body soap washes over him, and he just breathes you in. So sweet. He curls an arm around your waist, forcing your skin up against him, and you make a noise of contentment. 

He mouths at your breast until he has you panting up into the night air, eyes closed, and then moves to the other. Your eyes open briefly and you slide a hand across his head, feeling his warm scalp and soft hair under your fingers. 

He hums into your skin, nipple caught between his teeth, and you nearly cry out. But you hold back, wanting to save it. He pulls at it again, wanting to hear that pained noise you know he loves, and your heart skips a beat. You suck in a breath. 

“So responsive,” he murmurs into you, and his gaze briefly moves to your face—his dick hardens even more. 

“I’m impatient, Rafe,” you huff, petting his hair, and squeeze your thighs around him. “Please.”

“Needy,” he says more to himself than you, but pulls away to get a hand at the waistband of your shorts and move out of the way so he can rid you of them and get to what he’s actually been thinking about all day. He throws them over the edge of your bed and crowds you against the headboard again, mouth insistent upon yours as his fingers find your slick. Your thigh jerks when his pointer finger draws a line up your folds, and he just hums into your mouth. His thumb pushes into your clit, demanding, and his middle finger slides easily in. You clench around him, head thrown back into the pillow, and your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Fucking wet,” he grits out through his teeth, digging his face into your neck. Your skin ripples with goosebumps at his hot breath on your throat, and he slides another finger in. 

You’re so warm, so tight, so wet around him— it makes his heart smash into the cage of his ribs. It’s just like high school. You, sweet and perfect for him, and him, brooding and in the palm of your hand. He tried to not let you know that too much, though. Can’t let people around him know that he cares. 

“So perfect.” His teeth nip the soft skin on your neck, and you grab a hand at his forearm, guiding him faster. He accedes, knowing what you want, and slips another finger in. You tingle and curve up into him, unused to the stretch, and the breath is stolen right from your throat. 

His thumb slides off of your clit when you push it away. Your fingers replace his thumb, and he just tries to breathe. You know every fucking avenue to getting him to cum in his pants, and he’s really trying to avoid that outcome. 

Your noises become higher in your throat, whinier, and he feels you start to pulse around him. His fingers push even deeper, going the perfect speed, and then you’re shaking and trying to both get away from and get closer to his hand. 

He grabs at your hip and keeps you in one place, hand continuing, and you grab at him frantically. 

“Too much, Rafe,” you cry, neck cramping at the angle you’d stretched it to for the longest time, but he continues on. Your blood is pumping so fast, so hard in your body, and the rush of orgasm fades into numb pleasure that makes you pulse around him. 

“Come on, baby, I know you can.”

Your mind calls memories to the surface— memories of him pushing you past your limit, making you scream, cry. You loved it, and he only continued when you were nodding and shaking for him. Any inkling that you weren’t into it he was off of you. He was no stranger to felonies, such as drug distribution or grand theft auto, but he didn’t dare do anything that was a question of consent. Off the table. 

“Your fingers are so—so big.” You ramble on, talking of good things only like the size of him and how he feels and tastes and smells, and his hips twitch where they're pressed to you. Fuck. 

“So close, Y/N,” he pants into your ear, hips rolling steadily into your thigh and pelvis, and you feel his dick jump against you. “You’re so close.”

Your torso shakes with the effort and tension in your muscles, and he bites into your pillow. 

“I fucking—,” you start, but you fling your head back into the pillow before you can finish. He really wishes he knew what you were going to say. “Yes, yes, yes—fuck!” You chant, and your hips twitch where they meet his hammering hand as you cum onto his fingers. He continues on for a little bit, loving the feel of you, but pulls his fingers out. They immediately push into his mouth and you take the moment to pull yourself together. 

Sweat sticks the sheets to your back, beading at your forehead too, and you’re sure your face is flushed red. The room is undeniably hot, filled with the hot breath and energy palpable in the air. You’re sure it smells like sex, too. 

Rafe catches your jaw in his hand and tilts you up for a kiss, lips hot and smooth against yours. As he settles into you again, your hand finds the crotch of his pants. He breaks away immediately, cursing and looking down at your fingers. 

“Touch it,” you breathe, eyes locked on his. His wide, clear, blue eyes. “For me.”

Rafe’s large fingers push yours away and dig into his underwear, and his eyes close when his palm circles the tip of him. You look up at him, hands coming to your chest, and you cup your breasts. His eyes follow your fingers as they pinch your nipples. You back arches, and his hand around his dick pumps faster. 

“You’re so good for me,” you say, as breathless as you can manage without sounding like a corny phone-sex operator, and his head cants back at your voice. 

“Shit,” he gasps, mouth hanging open when he looks down. “O-Only you.” It’s more to himself, but your chest swells. 

“Yeah?” You ask, and sit up. Your hands find his waist and his torso, and you lean up so his mouth is inches from yours. “Not your girlfriend?”

“Fuck,” he exhales, cheeks pink, and his eyes close when you trace his chest with a finger. “No. Not her. Never.”

You just hum, pleased, and curl a hand around his own to slow his hand. His hips twitch, fucking himself between your two hands, and his mouth opens in a “fuck” before he’s cumming right into your bare chest.

“Christ, Y/N,” he says, panting, and covers the upper half of his face with his forearm. His knees ache. 

You rise clumsily from the bed and stumble into your bathroom, returning with the hand towel. You wipe at your chest and throw it back into the bathroom, careless. 

“Are you staying?” You ask, nearing him, and lean one knee on the bed. He curls an arm around your waist and tugs you closer in the darkness, lips pressed to your temple. 

“I don’t think you could get me to leave your bed right now, sweetheart.” He smells like sweat and the remnants of cologne, and you breathe him in.

“I’m counting on it,” you whisper, and kiss him square on the mouth.

[somepsychopomp]

I love the idea that the Trojans pay closer attention to when Ody's heats are then Odysseus himself. They live in fear that one day he just rips the walls down with his bare hands. Everyone refuses to go fight by the fifth year. The Greeks have about five seconds to recognize what that means before they get jumped <3

Okay so I’m no longer asking- I’m telling y'all that if u leave me an idea or suggestion with no clear context clues/explanation as to what you’re talking about, I’m not going to answer 😭 Believe me, I love writing and answering prompts but if I have to treat it like a guessing game, its not nearly as fun for me anymore. Sorry to anon because I know that wasn't your intention, but I am simply not a mind reader

Like I know you’re talking about my omegaverse AU but I’m not sure if you’re referring to my actual AU or the Trojan spin-off. It sounds more like you’re referring to my side idea of omega Ody being kidnapped by Paris to Troy so okay-

I think Ody would actually be a lot more clever about his heats & would try to conceal them as much as possible, whether that be by frequently washing/changing his clothes and/or using copious perfume or ancient scent blockers.

And if not that, he could try prolonging his period of pre-heat to confuse the alphas in the Trojan palace as much as possible. Maybe he does this with herbal remedies that can partially suppress a heat, or he knows how to mimic the mannerisms of an omega approaching their heat- ex. increased purring & scent marking

Tricking the palace into thinking he’s near-heat has a few advantages. One, Odysseus can eavesdrop more easily because its Ancient Times and no one thinks a horny omega has even two brain cells to rub together. When they all think he's just a dumb himbo, Ody can steal supplies he needs more easily, or even seduce the palace guards into giving him access to places he shouldn't be in.

Cue Odysseus' many failed escape attempts from Troy. (Stealing a length of rope to scale the wall to freedom, stealing a knife and slitting a guard's throat so he can take a horse from the stable, seducing another to gain access to Troy's underground servant tunnels, etc.) The only reason why they're failed attempts is bc Priam is really smart and Hector is an extraordinarily talented warrior, and together they can just barely keep omega Ody in containment.

Omega Odysseus in heat is a different beast. If Ody in my actual AU has be to locked aboard one of his ships while in heat during the Trojan War, then he's 100% getting locked in Troy's dungeon while he's with them.

Granted, they prettied it up for him by cleaning the old blood and grime off the walls, giving him tons of soft bedding, keeping Paris far away from him, and providing him with a vast assortment of snacks and hand-carved dildos to bounce on.

Ody's horny phase lasts a few hours, maybe even a day if the Trojans are lucky. But once he begins to grow frustrated bc the dildos just can't satisfy him like his Penelope can, omega Odysseus is breaking out no matter how hard they try to barricade his cell. Somehow, perhaps with Athena's help, they always end up with a naked Odysseus running through the halls and ripping out throats with his bare teeth.

He won't rest until he either A) has his alpha back or B) has killed Paris. He would prefer both, but since Ody can probably only get B because Penelope is leading the forces from Ithaca outside of Troy's walls, he'll take it.

Whenever Ody escapes containment, which is quite often, Paris is told to hide while literally an entire battalion of fully-armored Trojan soldiers is sent to capture the omega. His heat doesn't make him the addled, boneless, whimpering pet that they expect an omega to be. He's quick and merciless, fueled by his instinctual rage at being separated from his mate and infant son.

Even when he's captured, Ody's still got a few tricks left. Sometimes, he'll cry out in pain and feign an injury. Since he's technically married to Paris and considered Trojan royalty, one of the guards or soldiers would have no choice but to venture closer to check on him.

From there, it's easy for Ody's canines to find flesh and for his nimble fingers to snatch the dagger or sword from the poor man's side.

After the Trojans start getting wise to Odysseus' ways, they basically form a union. They already have enemies at their gates, seemingly every able-bodied man in Greece (plus Penelope), but now they have a monster in their midst. One that is slowly killing them off from within their own palace.

Return the omega to his homeland, they say to their king. Or else they will simply refuse to fight any longer.

Bonus: If we're following my AU where Troy isn't sacked by the end of the war, then by the time Ody gets to leave, they'll have probably started to let omegas into their army. Something about viewing them as the most terrifying and ruthless warriors imaginable.