lemonbarnes

[lemonbarnes]

New in Town - Ch. 8: First Thanksgiving

Sarah comes to town for the holidays. A continuation of New in Town chapters 1-7 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Best Friend's Dad!Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: No use of Y/N. Age gap (reader is 35 Joel is 47, not a focus of the fic). Minors DNI, 18+ only

Length: 6.7k

AO3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter

“You’re sure?” Joel asked, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he held you close. 

“I’m sure,” you smiled a little and he sighed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Not lookin’ forward to not seeing you for a few days,” he said, his skin warm and soft on yours. 

“I’ll be around all the time,” you laughed a little. “I’m coming over for dinner and for the Christmas stuff Sarah has planned…” 

“Not the same,” he replied. “Can’t just touch you whenever I want, kiss you whenever I want… You sure you want to wait to tell her until after the holidays?”

Joel’s face was drawn and concerned and, if it didn’t make him look so sad it would have made you laugh. It was just a few days. A few days of not being together all the time, a few days of sleeping apart, a few days where the tangle your separate lives had knotted themselves into had to untwist and exist independent of each other. 

Joel was, apparently, not a fan. 

In his defense, neither were you. Though you were taking it better than Joel. But you didn’t want to change how things had been going any more than he did. In the few weeks since the football game, you’d practically been living together. It just wasn’t at any house in particular. Joel had a drawer and a razor at your place, you had a dedicated corner of the closet and a whole separate set of skin care products and makeup at his. You’d started doing everything together, not able to really get enough of each other, the only time you were really apart when the two of you were at work. 

The last hurdle your relationship had was talking to Sarah, something Joel was far more ready to do than you were. 

You’d had one good scare right after the football game while snuggling with Joel the next morning. You were reading the news on your phone and sipping coffee he’d been nice enough to get out of bed to make after fucking you silly. You hadn’t even put underwear back on, considering asking for round two by just sucking him off when you got a text from Sarah. 

“Have fun at the Longhorns game?” She wrote. 

“Oh shit!” You yelped, sitting bolt upright so fast your coffee sloshed out of your mug and onto your comforter. 

“You alright?” Joel frowned as you set your mug on your bedside table with a little too much force.

“Sarah knows,” you looked at him, eyes wide, turning the phone so he could see the text. “She knows, Joel. She knows and she found out from someone who isn’t us, oh my GOD…” 

He took the phone, his hand in the middle of your back as you quietly panicked. 

“She just knows you were at the game,” Joel said, handing you your phone and kissing your bare shoulder. “She could have just texted Tommy and maybe he mentioned you.” 

You took the phone back and read the message two more times. 

“Right,” you said, your heart still racing. “Right, OK…” 

You texted back. 

“It was a blast! How’d you know I was there? Haven’t talked to you in a few days. How’s Tinder boy btw?” 

You gnawed on your lower lip while you waited for the text back, your stomach in knots. 

“Saw you on TV!” She replied. “Or my friend from HS did because she recognized my dad. She got excited and texted to tell me with photo evidence that he was famous now lol” 

You suddenly remembered the kiss cam. Your stomach sank.

“Can I see the pic?” You sent back. “Gotta see me as a TV star!” 

It took a minute but she texted you a picture of a zoomed in crowd shot. You were looking intently up at Joel as he gestured to something down at the field with a serious look on his face. It was probably while he was explaining the game to you, before you’d blurted out that you were in love with him. It would be perfectly platonic if you didn’t read into the look on your face. 

“Oh thank fuck,” you flopped back down in the bed, leaning against Joel. “It’s just this, sounds like she didn’t watch the game. We’re safe.” 

That had been the big push behind figuring out how to tell Sarah. You both agreed it had to happen and sooner rather than later. You loved Joel too much to give him up and he seemed to feel the same about you. 

It had been Joel who proposed telling her over Thanksgiving. She was coming to town and he wanted to talk with her in person. Get her on board and then have you over as his girlfriend for the holiday. 

You’d vetoed that. 

Not that you didn’t want to tell Sarah. Or want Sarah to know, at least. She was your best friend and you weren’t good at all the sneaking around this relationship apparently required. You wanted her to know and be happy and excited for you and to be able to tell her how fucking happy you were. 

But you’d always envied Sarah’s relationship with her father and she’d told you just how important the holidays had been for the two of them. 

“My dad always really tried,” she’d told you once, when Christmas decor had started going up around Seattle and she was feeling nostalgic. “He made it all magic, you know? Now that I’m all grown up and shit, I know money was tight but he always made sure I had the perfect Christmas. He learned to cook a turkey so we’d have actual Thanksgiving, he always watched the parade with me and made those cinnamon rolls that came in a can and we always decorated for Christmas the day after then watched a bunch of Christmas movies. I hate to think of what he had to give up to make sure I got what I wanted under the tree but I know he must have.” 

It was the kind of relationship you’d dreamed of having with your parents when you were a girl. Not even the part where they scrimped and saved to give you whatever toy you were clamoring for at the time, just the part where they cared enough to make the world seem like there was magic in it. Things like ornaments and cinnamon rolls and watching Christmas movies with purpose instead just because they were on TV and your aunt was bored with channel scrolling. Now that you were an adult, you thought it was probably because your mom couldn’t afford anything that she just pretended Christmas wasn’t happening. The fact that there were no gifts was less noticeable when there was no sign they should be there at all. 

But regardless of the reason, it left a hollow place in you where you felt like some sort of fond memory - some echo of the childish notion that the world was soft and good - should be. 

You didn’t want to disrupt that for Sarah and Joel. 

If you waited until after the new year to tell her, you figured that would give her some time to move past it before it would be too disruptive to their lives. Because of course she would need to move past it. 

Sarah had every reason to be upset about this. Regardless of the fact that you were in love with Joel and he with you, that you made each other happy, that you were starting to hope that you’d get to love him forever, you’d still gone behind her back and fucked her dad. The person she loved most and was closest to. It was a betrayal of trust you weren’t sure she could move past. You wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. 

Your biggest concern with it all was how she would feel toward Joel after she found out. The fact that he wasn’t all that much older than you - just 12 years, about the age you tended to seek out, anyway - you didn’t think that was going to matter much to Sarah. She was your friend and he was her father and you were terrified that she might think less of him for going after a woman who was her peer. 

If your relationship caused a rift between Sarah and Joel, you weren’t sure you’d ever forgive yourself for that. Of course you wanted to keep Sarah in your life, too. You didn’t have many friends, losing most of them when you moved because adult life wasn’t exactly conducive to maintaining dozens of long distances friendships and you stayed off social media to dodge your father. But Sarah was different. You’d spent more time with her when you were in Seattle than you had with other friends in other places. You’d kept in touch more since you left. She’d become interwoven into the fabric of your life in ways other people never really had and you treasured that. 

But if she hated your relationship with Joel so much that she needed to cut one of you out, you’d let her and Joel go before she even needed to make the call. There was no way you’d let yourself be the thing that ruined the father-daughter relationship you’d wished you had your entire life. 

No, it was worth spending the holidays on your own if it meant preserving Sarah and Joel’s relationship and giving them both a chance to have another year of the traditions that meant so much to them both. 

While you thought just avoiding Joel while Sarah was in town was the smart thing to do - you’d gotten too in the habit of touching him and kissing him all the time - Sarah hadn’t left you much choice. She’d all but begged you to come to Thanksgiving on your most recent FaceTime, her eyes looking almost suspiciously wide when she did. 

“I know you don’t have plans,” she said when you’d tried to say no. 

“Maybe I already have dinner reservations,” you said. “Maybe I have a boyfriend I’m going to go with.” 

She scoffed. 

“I know you,” she rolled her eyes. “If you had one of those you’d have gushed to me about his dick already.” 

You almost choked on your coffee at that. The only reason you weren’t with your boyfriend that second was because you were going to his place that night and he was still at work. And you certainly weren’t about to talk about his dick with Sarah. 

“I just don’t want to crash in on family time,” you said once you stopped coughing and had wiped your phone screen clean of the splatter. “I know you’ve got your traditions and shit, I don’t want to get in the way of that.” 

“It’s just my dad and Tommy and Maria,” she rolled her eyes. “Not like it’s tea with the queen. And you’ve hung out with them already. Come on! I want to see you! And you should have a nice Thanksgiving, too! Don’t make me beg, I’m really obnoxious when I beg.” 

“Fine,” you sighed, flopping back against the couch a little harder than you should. “I’ll come to Thanksgiving…” 

“Yes!” She punched the air in victory. “Believe it or not, my dad makes a good turkey. And you’re going to love the Christmas movie marathon, we always eat popcorn mixed with the holiday chocolate…” 

You frowned. 

“I said I was coming for Thanksgiving,” you said. “Not the whole weekend.” 

“Black Friday is part of Thanksgiving,” she waved you off. “You eat leftovers all day, it’s basically the same thing. And you already said yes so you’re coming. I can’t wait!” 

Sarah’s plane was landing in two hours. Well, just under. One hour and 57 minutes but who was counting. You were soaking up the last of your time with Joel before the holiday started. You’d fully intended on doing something besides fuck him but that had quickly fallen through, the two of you ending up in bed before you could even fully discuss where to possibly get food.

“I know you’re worried,” he said softly and you sighed. 

“She has every reason to be upset about this,” you said. “And I’d rather the issues come up when there’s time and space to work on them, not during the holidays where she might feel like she has to get over stuff too soon and ends up resenting it.” 

And there was, of course, the things you weren’t saying to Joel. What if she didn’t get over it? What if she gave Joel an ultimatum: you or her? 

Of course he would choose her. He wouldn’t even hesitate to choose her. And he should choose her, you wouldn’t even try to fight him on it. If he called and told you it was over because of Sarah, you’d be heartbroken but you’d understand it and then you’d be without them both. 

What if it didn’t come to that but things got so rocky between the two of them that he made the call that it had to end? Joel was nothing if not an amazing father, he would always do whatever he could to do right by his daughter and that would include cutting you out of his life. 

You weren’t ready to face that possibility. You wanted a chance to brace yourself for it first, have some more time with Joel first. Something you could hang on to if you were stuck starting from scratch and had to download the stupid dating apps again. 

“She’s going to be happy for us,” he brushed your hair back, his large hand warm and comforting against you. “She might be freaked out at first but she’ll be happy that we’re happy.” 

“And you know this because the large sample size of ex girlfriends you’ve introduced to her?” You asked, brows raised. He glared at you. You knew he’d never had anyone he’d even considered introducing to Sarah before. “Yeah. Exactly.” 

“It’s going to be OK,” he said, kissing you again. “Promise it is. But we’ll wait if that’s really what you want to do. This is about us, not gonna do anything without you.” 

You walked Joel to his truck when he had to leave for the airport, wrapping your arms around his waist and breathing him in as he held onto you. 

“See you in a day and a half,” he said, kissing your forehead. “Miss you already.” 

“Miss you too,” you said, separating from him reluctantly. You stood in front of your building, watching his truck drive away until he was out of sight. 

***

The turkey was in the oven, Maria had volunteered pies and sweet potatoes, you were bringing rolls and green bean casserole, there were a few hours before potatoes needed to go on the stove. Joel was pretty sure he had things under control. 

He poured himself a cup of coffee and added the Bailey’s Sarah had insisted on picking up the day before before putting a few cinnamon rolls on a plate and joining her in the living room. 

“Remember how much SpongeBob annoyed you when I was a kid?” She asked, holding up the other side of the blanket she was curled up under for Joel to join her. 

“Hard to forget,” Joel smiled a little, sitting beside her. She draped the blanket over his legs before getting her spiked coffee off the side table. “God, that voice was so annoying.” 

“He’s been a balloon in the parade almost 20 years now apparently,” she said, smiling a little smugly as she nodded toward the giant yellow sponge on TV. “Looks like you’re the odd man out.” 

He smiled broader. 

“Used to that,” he replied. 

Joel loved having Sarah home, especially this time of year. It felt right, like the two of them were always supposed to be together. They didn’t need to even be doing anything special, just sitting at home and watching TV or having dinner. It seemed like they were meant to live their lives side by side, sharing in all the highs and lows. 

But, for the first time around the holidays, it felt like something was missing. Joel just kept picturing you there, where you were supposed to be. He reached over and searched for your soft warmth when he woke up, disoriented when he didn’t find you. He almost made you a cup of coffee this morning on autopilot, some part of him knowing that you were supposed to be there, too. You were supposed to be there the night before when he and Sarah made the annual pre-Thanksgiving fridge clean out meal, finding a way to eat through anything that might disrupt the placement of feast leftovers the next day as the turkey finished defrosting in the sink. You were supposed to be there laughing at the stand up comedy Sarah put on while they cut up carrots and celery and onions for stuffing before going to bed. You were definitely supposed to be there watching the parade, tucked against his side and drinking coffee while the balloons and the floats went by. 

He loved you so much he wanted you in every part of his life. You were supposed to be there, making all of it better. 

“Everything OK?” Sarah frowned as the parade went to commercial. 

“Course,” Joel said, putting his arm over the back of the couch so she could lean against him. She’d know soon. Then you’d be here, too. “You’re here.” 

You came over a little early. Sarah was in her room getting ready when the doorbell rang and Joel all but raced to answer it. Your hands were full and he took a dish from you before pulling you in for a hug and a kiss, your eyes wide as he did. 

“Sarah’s getting dressed,” he said quickly before giving you another kiss. “Gettin’ it in while I can.” 

“Oh, well in that case,” you smiled against him, kissing him deeply before stepping back. “I do need to use the oven. Or at least the toaster oven. Which is why I came by early.” 

“Oh, is that why?” He teased, leading you inside and closing the door behind you. 

“Yes,” you said, following him to the kitchen. “No ulterior motives at all. Just wanted to make sure things could work logistically, I’m nice like that. Very weird ringing the doorbell, by the way. Don’t think I like it.” 

“Know I don’t,” he said, putting the dish on the counter. You set the other one next to it. “Gave you a key for a reason. Like you just comin’ in like you live here.” 

“Oh yeah?” You bit your lip and backed into the counter before you took a handful of Joel’s button down shirt and tugged him against you. Your eyes were practically shining and you looked so fucking pretty, your hair all done up, a soft velvet dress that hugged your curves that Joel desperately wanted to shove up around your waist so he could fuck you deep. “Like me in your house?” 

“My house,” he kissed you and pressed himself against you. “My bed.” He kissed you again. “My whole damn life.” 

“Was that the door bell?” Sarah yelled from her room and you practically shoved Joel back from you. He leaned in and gave you a final kiss to the temple. 

“Just me!” You yelled back. “The best friend you insisted on having around, don’t rush on my account!” 

Joel smiled a little. Everything was going to work out. One day, you’d be living here and Sarah would come over and he’d smile while the the two of you talked like the old friends you were. It was all going to be OK. He could feel it. 

Sarah shrieked as she hurtled into the kitchen, sliding on the tile and slamming into you as you laughed, hugging her. 

“It’s so good to see you! Want a drink?” She stepped back before checking her watch. “I’m still on Irish coffee but it’s not too early to move on to wine. Oh! Or! I found this Thanksgiving cocktail recipe online the other day, I’ve got enough to make a few pitchers and there’s no reason we can’t start that right now.” 

“Coffee sounds great,” you smiled. “And then we can talk about the cocktails because I want to see this recipe of yours.” 

“It’s not a Miller Family Thanksgiving without plenty of booze,” Sarah laughed as she poured you a mug of coffee and got the Bailey’s out. “But in a fun way, not a dysfunctional way.” She handed you the mug and you took a sip. She smiled. “There. You’re officially a Miller now. Give me like two minutes, I’m only half way done with my hair, be right back.” 

She went back to her room and you raised your brows at Joel over your mug. 

“Hear that?” You teased. “I’m a Miller now.” 

Joel’s heart soared at that thought. You with his name, you in his house, you living your life alongside his. 

“We should be so lucky.” 

You, Sarah and Joel laughed and drank and finished making dinner until the doorbell rang again and Joel went to answer it, leaving you and Sarah alone at the kitchen table. 

“Hey hey!” Tommy said, a bottle of bourbon in one hand and a pie in the other when Joel opened the door. “Smells good in here!” 

“Sure hope so,” Joel laughed, taking a casserole dish and a pie from Maria. She turned to her husband as she took off her coat. 

“Tommy, do not mention anything about Joel and…” 

“I know,” he smiled but sounded exasperated. “You’ve drilled this into me. Lips are sealed. Course seems like a moot point because we all know he’s gonna fuck her in the bathroom before dessert…” 

“Tommy!” Maria hissed at him. Joel glared. 

“What!” He laughed. “Just sayin’, don’t think they’re gonna keep their hands off each other, it’s gonna come out…” 

“If it comes out because of you, I’ll deck you,” Joel said. “Mean it.” 

“Fine, fine,” he waved him off. “Told you, your secret’s safe with me. Just don’t think it’s all that safe with you.” 

Joel ground his teeth a little at that but he had to acknowledge that Tommy had a point. You were here, so close and he couldn’t touch you. All he wanted was to touch you. When Sarah had gotten up to use the bathroom, the second the door clicked shut you grabbed Joel’s shirt again and pulled him in for a deep and desperate kiss. You licked into his mouth and he tried to hold back the needy moan that slipped from his mouth to yours. 

“Sorry,” you panted after a second, close enough that he could feel your hot breath on his skin. “Just… needed that.” 

“Never apologize for kissin’ me,” he said, a little breathless himself. “Always want you kissing me.” 

At dinner, you sat next to Sarah and Joel sat across from her so at least he’d have some distance. He hoped it would make things easier. Instead, it meant that he was just stuck looking at you all through dinner, wishing you weren’t going back to your place after it was done. 

“Seemed like y’all picked a great game to go to by the way,” Sarah said as everyone ate. “Texas is having a good season this year, they’re definitely getting a bowl game.”

“Oh, definitely. Always fun to watch those. Would the two of you wanna come over for it?” Tommy asked, looking between you and Joel. 

You froze mid chew and your eyes darted to Joel. He looked quickly to Tommy, whose eyes went wide. 

“That’s right!” Sarah laughed, not noticing the small meltdown happening around her at the table. “You’re a Longhorns fan now!” 

You coughed a little and cleared your throat. 

“Yup, basically a college football expert,” you said. “I definitely know what a down is now, for sure.” 

Tommy mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ at Joel once Sarah was focused on something else and Joel tried to keep calm. He should have just talked you into telling her now. This felt like a ticking time bomb and Joel was already tired of acting like you were something he should hide. 

“Told you you’d have fun!” Sarah said, giving you a hug as she and Joel saw you to the door. “It’ll be even more fun tomorrow. I’m getting roped into going out with a friend from high school for a late lunch but I’ll be home right after and then the movie marathon can begin!” 

“Can’t wait,” you gave her a squeeze and gave Joel a smile over her shoulder. 

Joel went to hug you goodbye, too. It wouldn’t be that strange, right? Sarah knew you hung out at least occasionally, after all. 

“Come by early,” he whispered in your ear before stepping back and speaking at a normal volume. “Good to see you again. Thanks for comin’.” 

“Thanks for having me,” you smiled, looking at him with those shining eyes of yours. Fuck, he loved you. 

Which is why he wanted you to come over early. 

He and Sarah got up at damn near the crack of dawn and hauled the Christmas decorations down from the attic, setting up the nativity scene that was as old as Sarah was, putting out the pictures of her with Santa, the little North Pole village made out of cardboard with paper glued to the side that he and Sarah had colored in when she was nine. She held the ladder still while he strung up the lights outside and they went together to get bagels and coffee and pick out the tree. 

Joel remembered getting the tree with Sarah when she was little. He steered her toward the imperfect trees, talking about how much character they had, how the gaps in the branches were perfect for ornaments. He could usually talk the guy in the tree lot down in price because of it and Sarah was excited to have a perfectly imperfect, one of a kind tree. 

She still gravitated toward the imperfect trees. Looking for the evergreens with patches and brown spots and finding the tree that looked least like the others on the lot before taking it home and lovingly covering it in tinsel and ornaments until it looked like the most beautiful tree you could find anywhere. 

He wanted to share this with you, too. When Sarah had called to tell him that she wanted to invite you for Thanksgiving and for Christmas movies, she’d told him things he didn’t know about you. Things he could have guessed, especially now that he knew about your family, but things that hadn’t occurred to him until she said it. 

“She never really did the whole Christmas thing, I don’t think,” she said. “When I asked her about it she just shrugged and said they didn’t celebrate it and I asked if they had some other holiday and she said no, they just didn’t. Isn’t that sad?” 

“Some people just don’t enjoy the holidays, baby girl,” he said, even though his heart hurt for you. 

“I don’t think that’s what it is, though,” she said. “Come on, we have to invite her for Christmas stuff. She should get to do the fun shit at least once!” 

Of course he said yes. He’d want you there anyway but especially now. Even if it was hard with Sarah, he’d want you there. 

But Sarah going out for a bit with her friends made it easier. He was usually very selfish with her days at home, having to consciously avoid guilting her for spending time with anyone who wasn’t him. Now, he was thankful for the chance to see you for a little bit without the watchful eye of his daughter there. 

Because Sarah was right. You did deserve to have the fun stuff, at least once. 

You knocked when you got there while Sarah was gone and smiled when Joel answered the door. 

“Hey,” you said, looking at him like just him being there made your entire day. 

“Hey,” he said back before grabbing you and kissing you, his fingers knotting in your hair, holding you close to him. He pulled back from you a bit, just to look at you. “Damn. I’ve missed doing that.” 

You laughed. 

“Me too.” 

You went inside and gasped at the living room, your hands covering your mouth. 

“What?” He asked. 

“It’s gorgeous!” Your eyes were wide. “It’s like the North Pole in here!” You walked slowly around the room, stopping at the little Christmas village and bending over to look at it closer. “Did you make these?” 

“Yeah,” Joel smiled, going to stand next to you. “Sarah saw one of these little village things at a friend’s house and wanted one but those damn houses were like 80 bucks a pop. But she really wanted a village, so I brought some empty boxes home from work and got some printer paper and drew out some Christmas house looking patterns on it and we colored it in and glued it all together. I gotta do the annual patch up yet, there’s some peeling paper on the corners…” 

You stood up and turned to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him, all gentle at first but then needier, harder. 

“Don’t think we have much time,” you said, your voice think with want. “Should probably take your clothes off.” 

“As much as I’d love to fuck you,” Joel said, kissing you once more before pulling back from you just a bit, close enough that his nose still brushed yours. “That’s not why I asked you to come over.” 

You frowned. 

“It’s not?” 

“Got something for you,” he kissed you again before separating from you entirely, going to a cabinet against the wall. Inside was a plain white box, tied with a bow. He handed it to you and you smiled a little, taking it. 

You untied the ribbon and he watched it float to the floor for a second as you carefully opened the box and you gasped, looking inside it for a moment before looking up at him. 

“Joel,” you whispered, tears in your eyes. 

He smiled a little. 

“I’ll hold the box,” he said, taking it from you so you could use both hands. “Sarah said you didn’t do Christmas as a kid. Thought you might want to here. So you needed a few things…” 

You pulled the first piece out of the box, a little ornament of the Chicago flag. 

“For where you went to college,” he said. You laughed wetly and set it aside, pulling out the little blown glass bottle of Tabasco sauce next. “Because you love your spicy foods.” You laughed harder at that, actually crying now, and turned the delicate bottle over in your fingers before setting it aside, too. Next was a little metal Space Needle and you laughed, holding it up and watching it glint in the light. “That’s for obvious reasons.” 

“Clearly,” you laughed again, drying your eyes with the ornament still in your hands. “Joel…” 

“Should be a few more in there,” he said, smiling. You gave him a look and went back into the box. There was a little Texas ornament with a heart over Austin and you held it up, turning it back and forth in the light. “Figured the lone star state needed representation…” 

“Of course,” you laughed, setting that ornament next to the others and pulling out the last one. “Oh, Joel…” 

It was a little couple with the words “Our First Christmas” written on a ribbon over their heads. Joel’s name was painted on the scarf of one, yours on the other. 

“Since I was kinda hoping you’d be around next Christmas, too, thought we could start a collection,” he said. “And now you’ve got a few ornaments of your own.” 

“This is…” you said running your thumb over the little people in your palm. “I don’t even have a tree!” 

“Sure you do,” he said, nodding to the one in the corner. “You heard Sarah. You’re a Miller now. One more thing in there, Beautiful.” 

You frowned, setting the ornament down and nudging aside tissue paper until you got to the bottom. You gasped again and Joel smiled at the sound as you pulled a stocking out of the box. It was simple, red velvet with a forest green trim and a white fur top, your name embroidered across the top of it. 

“Not Christmas without a stocking,” he smiled. 

You held it in your hands, your fingers running over the soft fur at the top, tracing the gold thread of your name. He set the box aside and put his hands in his back pockets. 

“No one’s ever…” your voice was thick and wet and you looked up at him. “This is incredible, Joel. I don’t even know what to say…” 

“Just say you’ll spend Christmas with me,” he said. “At least this Christmas. Hopefully a lot more, too, but we’ll start with this one.” 

You laughed. 

“Good luck getting me to spend time anywhere else now,” you kissed him, your arms around his neck, pressing your front tightly to his. He held you close, his arms going around you, fingers gripping your ribs and hip tight and he kissed you back, kissed you like he never wanted to stop kissing you. Because he didn’t want to stop kissing you. Not now, not ever. 

Not even when the two of you realized Sarah was standing in the entry way. 

***

“What the fuck?” 

The sound of Sarah’s voice made you jump. You all but leapt away from Joel, your eyes wide and wet, the stocking still in your hand. 

Joel’s gift had been so damn thoughtful and kind and perfect you’d completely forgotten that Sarah was in town and due home eventually. Even though she arrived a bit earlier than you or apparently Joel had expected. 

The gift really had floored you. No one had ever done anything like that for you, had found things just for you, put something together for you so you could be a part of something like a holiday. The only time you’d ever been gone to things like this it had been on the fringes, tacked on as an extra. Which was fine, you understood that. But feeling welcomed into the middle of it all was something else entirely and you were so in love with Joel at that moment it felt like your heart might burst with it. 

And then Sarah was there. 

“Sarah…” your voice cracked. “I… This…” 

“Have you two seriously been fucking this whole time?” She gaped at you. 

Your eyes darted to Joel who looked back at you, eyes wide. He clearly wasn’t ready for this conversation right now either. 

“I should go,” you said quickly, all but running for the door. “Let you two talk…”

“No, wait!” Joel called after you but you ignored him, ducking around Sarah and out into the yard. 

It had gotten dark since you’d come to Joel’s and the Christmas lights on the neighboring houses had turned on, the red and green and white twinkling in the dark as you fought to not sob on your boyfriend’s lawn. 

“Shit,” you swore when you realized you’d left your purse inside the house and had no way to get into your damn car to drive yourself home. 

Your phone was in your back pocket at least. You pulled it out and went into Uber to order a ride. You could come back later to pick up your car. And your purse. And you had some credit cards loaded on your phone and the corner store down the street from your apartment accepted that at least so you wouldn’t be totally screwed if you needed something before Sarah left town….

The Christmas lights on Joel’s house flipped on and the brightness of it made you flinch. 

“Hey,” Joel called and you turned without thinking, wiping your tears on the backs of your sleeve. He was barefoot, his breath rising on the air in front of him.

“I’m leaving,” you managed, holding up your phone. “Go back in, talk to Sarah…” 

“Don’t go,” he cut you off, hands up as he cautiously reached for you. “Come back inside, we can all talk and…” 

“I’m not going to ruin your relationship with your daughter, Joel,” you sniffed, looking down at the stocking that was still in your hand. “I love you both too much for that…” 

“You love him?” Sarah was in the doorway, pulling the door closed behind her and wrapping her arms around her waist as she jogged over to you both. “Ugh, it’s cold out here!” 

“Sarah…” you tried to find the words. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t… It’s not like… I know you’re upset…” 

“What?” She gaped at you and laughed a little. “Babes, I’m not mad!” 

You sniffed and dried your eyes with your sleeve again. 

“You’re not?” 

“No!” She laughed. “I mean I guess I’m a little ticked that you both hid this from me but I’m just glad I’m not insane!”

“What do you mean?” You shook your head. “I don’t…” 

“Bestie!” She came and grabbed your shoulders and met your eyes. “It was a set up! I’ve thought you two would be a great couple for fucking years but I knew you’d freak out if I actually told you that. I kind of hoped things would get there on their own and that you two would hit it off and be friends, why do you think I was so let down when you said you weren’t `hanging out?” 

“You…” you frowned, the tears finally slowing. “You were trying to set us up?” 

“Yes!” She laughed. “I mean, yeah, it might be a little weird - and please don’t talk to me about my dad the way you have past boyfriends because ew - but you two are my favorite people! You have so much in common and you both deserve something good and I know you’ll be good to each other. I just felt like I was insane for thinking you two would want to hang out once you met and then you didn’t. But I was right!” 

“You’re such a dick!” You laughed and she laughed too. “I’ve been freaking out for like two months!” 

“Well that’s what you get for not telling me everything,” she smiled. “Except you’ll need to find someone else to talk to about sex now. I might be weird enough to set my best friend up with my dad but even I have my limits. Also, I’m not going to call you mom.” 

You laughed and Joel draped an arm around Sarah’s shoulders, kissing the top of her head. 

“Shouldn’t be so sneaky, baby girl,” he said, but he was smiling. 

“Well you never listen any other way,” she said. “Now I’m still cold and there’s hot cocoa and snacks waiting inside…” 

“Oh!” You said. “I forgot, I have something in the car…” 

You ran back inside and grabbed your keys and pulled some covered dishes out of the back seat. Sarah frowned, her arms still around her waist. 

“It might be dumb, but…” You held up the containers. “I made a bunch of gingerbread and frosting and got candy and stuff…” 

“You brought stuff to make gingerbread houses?” Sarah practically squealed. “Knew you’d make a great Miller!” 

You laughed and Joel took the dishes from you as the three of you turned to head back inside. You stopped for a second and looked up at the house, the whole thing trimmed in colorful lights, a family of light up reindeer in the front yard. You smiled at it, looking like the home you always wished you had as a girl. 

“You really made something amazing here, Joel,” you said. 

“Did my best,” he shrugged. “But now that you and Sarah are here? It’s perfect.” 

You smiled at him and your best friend before going inside to hang your stocking up next to theirs where it belonged. 

A/N: AHHHHHH Sarah finally knows and YES, for those playing along at home, it was indeed a set up from the start. She's sneaky, that one!

Also, in case you're wondering, the ornament Joel gets Beautiful for the two of them? A variation on something like this. Isn't it the fucking cutest thing???

I hope you've loved this fic because I've loved writing it. Just one chapter left to put a bow on everything! Thank you so much for reading and for being here. Love you!!

Taglist: @fanficismydrug

[lemonbarnes]

So fucking good. I love the tightening, searing feeling in my chest when I read angst. I can’t wait for the next part

yes, chef | part three

a follow-up to this request from the lovely @cool-iguana

read part one and part two

summary: domestic bliss doesn't last long with a man who doesn't know how to regulate his emotions at the idea of losing someone he loves

pairing: no-outbreak!au, chef!joel x f!reader

content/warnings: lots of angst, swearing

a/n: omg as a brit writing stories set in the US i always forget how far states are from each other.... wym you can't just hop on the train from houston to new york?

In theory, you'd always wanted to be a morning person.

You envied the ease of Joel's body slipping out from the sheets each morning, never fighting with his eyelids for just five more minutes of rest.

The break of dawn was probably your favourite time of the day; you just preferred to soak it all in warm and semi-lucid from Joel's bed. The ambience of car engines on the street below slowly waking up mixed with Joel's coffee pot singing on the stove felt like a hymn sung only for you. You'd shut your eyes - only momentarily, before hearing the door creak open and the large white mug you'd claimed as your own being set down beside you on the nightstand.

Strategically, it was lucky that Joel always had to get to the restaurant hours before you. But each morning you wished you could pull him back under the duvet and sink yourself into his chest until it was impossible to decipher where you ended and he began.

Showering after spending a night with Joel felt like sacrilege. If it wasn't for the sweat and other fluids clinging to your skin, you would wear the remnants of his touch and scent on your body like an expensive French perfume.

The restaurant was always hectic, but now nearing the festive season everything seemed to intensify rapidly. However, screwing the boss did have its perks; you'd managed to sneak a couple of days off last week to visit a friend from culinary school in New York.

While you were there, she'd taken you to one of her favourite spots in the city, introducing you to the head chef who was a friend of hers. He'd asked about your current role and you told him everything about working for the Joel Miller - strategically omitting the parts where he has you pinned against the stove after hours.

You'd thought nothing of it after that, knowing it would mostly be inconvenient to hire someone halfway across the country when culinary grads were lurking on every corner in the city. You didn't want to leave Joel, either. You didn't plan on staying at his restaurant for the rest of your life - even he didn't, but things were good. You felt secure for the first time in your life.

Finally arriving at the restaurant, you sang a chirpy "Mooorning!" into the kitchen before dumping your things into your locker. As you tied your apron around your figure, Joel emerged from the office, eyes dark and trained on the floor.

"Good morning, chef." You cooed in a low tone, letting your voice rasp every so slightly.

He kept his eyes on the ground, grunting something inaudible vaguely in your direction before stalking into the kitchen.

Weird.

Whenever you and Joel got a moment alone he would always take advantage of your solitude, even if only for a couple of seconds. He'd seemed fine at the house this morning, you'd heard him singing along to The Supremes while making breakfast. Maybe the wrong amount of stock had been delivered; the tiniest of setbacks were often enough to dictate his mood for the entire day.

You pushed the encounter to the back of your mind, redirecting your attention to your prep for the day.

"Has anyone seen my boning knife?" You shouted over your shoulder after all but turning your station inside out.

Before you could turn your head, a heavy hand slammed the knife in front of you.

"Was on the floor when I got here this mornin'. Watch your shit and clean your station." Joel growled, loud enough for the rest of the kitchen to hear.

"Yes, chef." You bowed your head, cheeks turning pink with embarrassment.

You were more than familiar with his sharp tongue and short temper, but there was something about the way he spat his words at you that sent an unease through your body. He'd made you feel small. Why couldn't he have left the knife on your station for you when he found it? It seemed like such a petty thing for him to do.

Not wanting to let his mood rub off on you, you brushed it off and carried on with your tasks before service started.

The morning rushed past in a haze, and soon enough orders were coming through. Joel had remained eerily quiet for the majority of the morning, you almost wished he would shout at you to simply acknowledge your presence.

He hadn't found a single excuse to touch you, an act of affection he often employed while he made his rounds through the stations. You felt like you were a child being given the silent treatment by your mother, all of a sudden you were six again, tugging at the hem of her dress begging for her to look at you.

You were in the midst of prepping a monkfish and kohlrabi main with cauliflower and dates, almost ready for it to go to the pass, when you felt his presence behind you.

"Sauce ain't reduced enough."

"With respect, chef, it has two more minutes on heat."

He left before returning with a spoon, dipping it into your saucepan of monkfish stock.

"Needs lime."

"I'm going to add lime before it goes on the pass. As I said, it's not finished yet."

"Fuckin' useless." He muttered quietly under his breath, but you caught it.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

"I said you're fuckin' useless. Slow, no attention to detail, don't know why you're still in my kitchen."

Your heart sank deep into the pit of your stomach, sweat coating your palms. All eyes were on you both, and the sizzle of your burning sauce on the stove was the least of your worries.

"How dare you speak to me like that?" You fought for your voice to not waiver.

Was this part of your act? Had he taken the game you both played too far? There was no softness in his eyes, no remorse or realisation that his words had stung you.

Before he could dismiss you from the kitchen, you untied your apron and threw it to the ground, letting your hard work char and spit on the stove.

You didn't say a word as you snatched your things, bustling through the back door without another glance.

"Where the fuck d'you think you're going? You don't get to walk out of here mid-service just because y'needed more damn lime." Joel called from behind you.

"This isn't about the fucking lime, Joel. How could you speak to me like that? I thought, I thought-"

"You need to get some thicker skin. They ain't gonna coddle you like I do in New York."

The words must've slipped out of his mouth judging by the way his eyes widened at the mention of New York.

"What are you talking about?"

"They called me this mornin' - for a reference. Told me how impressed they were meetin' you."

You wanted to reach out and touch him, to console him and tell him how this was all just a horrible misunderstanding. Then his words replayed in your head. Every time you looked into his big, angry eyes all you could hear was useless, fuckin' useless.

"Grow up, Joel. Maybe if you'd have talked to me about it like a fucking adult I could've told you it wasn't like that."

"Oh yeah, what was it like? You plan on fuckin' your way to the top there too, or that just with me?"

He was being unjustly cruel and he knew it. This wasn't a power play for you, and he knew that. Although you'd never said it, you loved him, and you were almost certain that he loved you too.

But this was too much - he had pushed you too far this time. There was no coming back from this.

"Fuck you, Joel."

taglist: @cool-iguana @skysmiller @lhymer1995 @brittmb115 @moonlightdivine @reallyidontcare @nana90azevedo @spookyanamurdock @lovely-ateez @spookyanamurdock @bbyanarchist @joeldjarin @nostalxgic @axshadows @jenispunk @noisynightmarepoetry @thoughtfulmoonchild911

[lemonbarnes]

i love this, and can’t wait to see where it goes!

This Love Came Back to Me (2)

Summary: You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you stopped before the two of you could even truly begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him into a kiss, he thought maybe it was the perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of you realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply just wanting it. 

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: second chance romance, language, allusions of smut and potential full smut, stalking, unhealthy obsessions, delusions of feelings, unwanted attention.

Part Two Word Count: 2.3K

Part One

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You were still in the same little rented house that you had been in when you were dating. As Bradley pulled into the driveway behind your car, he couldn’t help but notice just how dark the street was, the lone light post flickering. When he saw you waiting for him on the porch steps, having arrived a minute or two before him, he jumped out of the Bronco and closed the distance with a jog.

“Hey there, Aviator,” you teased, taking his hand as he helped you stand. He grinned back, glad to see that the drive here hadn’t seemed to change your mind about this - about him, and the pull you still seemed to feel toward the other. 

He followed you inside, locking the door behind him. He glanced around the living room, taking note of the books that were scattered across empty surfaces, half burnt candles in random places, and an empty coffee cup on the stand beside the couch without a coaster underneath it. Not much had changed since the last time he had been in here. It was all still very you, and for some reason, that settled some of his nerves. 

“Do you…want to stay for a little while?” you asked. You were standing in front of him, reaching for that hair tie on your wrist to snap. He never wanted you to be nervous - not because of him. He took a step closer and lifted your head to look at him. Your skin was soft against his fingertips as he let his thumb ghost over the dimple in your chin. He just looked at you for a moment, taking in all the features he had missed. He cleared his throat and let his hand drop back to his side when he realized how long had passed. 

“I’d like that. If you want me to, that is.” 

A grin took over your face and you nodded, saying that you wanted him to stick around. You turned to move deeper into the house, calling over your shoulder and asking if he wanted a drink. He took a seat on the couch when you walked into the kitchen. It wasn’t long before you joined him, handing him a bottle with your preferred label on it as you settled in beside him. You kept a distance between your bodies, and you were both silent as you sipped your beers. But you felt too far away, so after brief contemplation, Bradley scooted closer. When you returned the gesture and he could feel the heat from your body, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and brought you flush against his side. You brought your bottle back up to your lips, but he could see the smile that was threatening to take over your face. He was sure it matched his. 

It was quiet for a few minutes as you sat together, simply existing with one another. You finally raised your head in his direction, only to see he was already looking at you. 

“Hi,” you whispered. 

“Hi.” 

You stared, once again not saying anything. A long moment passed before you let out a shaky breath and grabbed his drink out of his hand. He raised an eyebrow as you leaned forward and set both bottles down on the  coffee table. When you turned back to look at him, your eyes were darker and your breathing was heavier. 

“Bug,” he reached for you, “come here.” 

He barely got the words out before you were climbing into his lap and pressing your lips to his. 

Bradley groaned against your mouth. He ran his tongue against the seam of your lips and you opened for him with no hesitation, letting him deepen the exchange. One hand settled on your waist while the other found its way to the back of your neck, holding you to him. He could taste the beer you had been drinking together and something that was just so uniquely you. He chased after it, wanting more after going without for so long. 

“Missed you,” you murmured once breathing became an issue and you pulled back just slightly. Your hands found a home playing with his hair and both of his fell to your hips, rubbing up and down the expanse of your side. 

“I missed you too. I thought about you a lot,” he revealed. You pressed another quick kiss to his lips at the words, and he knew he wasn’t the only one. 

“I never said thank you,” you said quietly. Bradley’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, prompting you to elaborate. “For tonight. It wasn’t really fair of me, but once I saw you I just…took the opportunity.” 

It brought everything that had happened back to the forefront of his mind, having been lost in the fog of having you in his arms again. He thought of the unsteadying way the other man had been looking at you, and how panicked you had looked in return. Even after Bradley proclaimed himself as your boyfriend, he had barely flinched. 

“Are you ready to talk about it?” he asked slowly. 

You sighed like you knew it had been coming. Your head fell forward to rest against his and he rubbed circles into your skin through your clothes, waiting you out. After a moment, you straightened back up in his lap. “What do you want to know?” 

“Everything,” he answered immediately. “But you can start with telling me more about him.” 

He couldn’t bring himself to say the other man’s name, but it wasn’t like it was necessary; you both knew who he meant. 

“He started about four months ago. I was responsible for some of his training so we spent a lot of time together in the beginning. He asked me out his..second week, I think? I said no. I really thought at first that he just couldn’t take a hint.” 

“But?” he prompted, sensing more. You groaned and closed your eyes. You took a deep breath before you opened them again and continued. 

“He wouldn’t stop asking. He memorized my coffee order and would leave me lunch on my desk. And then shit like tonight where he somehow overhears a conversation of where I’ll be and just shows up and wants to buy me a drink. He thinks they’re sweet gestures but it’s just creepy.” 

Bradleys mind whirled with the new information. Concern was flashing like red lights in his head.

“That’s…not okay.”

“I know,” you groaned, “But I mean…I don’t know.”

“Has he ever put his hands on you?” he asked. Part of him was scared at what your response would be, but you just shrugged your shoulders and fiddled with one of the buttons on his shirt. 

“Nothing like whatever your mind is probably conjuring up. A hand on my arm when he pops up beside me. Stands a little too close in the elevator. Tries to grab my hand when we’re walking in the same direction. Nothing that I haven’t dealt with before from men who lack personal space.”

Bradley’s eyes narrowed considerably, not liking that last comment, but he knew that wasn’t here nor there. He blew a harsh breath out and pulled you a little closer. 

“Have you told anyone? Reported him at work or something?”

“Yes. He got a verbal warning. He chilled for about two weeks.”

There’s obvious bitterness in your tone. He remembered how excited you had been when you landed this job at the start of your relationship. Clearly in the time you had been apart, something had changed.

“I’ve been applying for new jobs,” you continued before he could ask. Bradley felt a smidge of relief at your words. “I kind of hate it there. Not even just because of Paul. It’s…not what I thought it would be, you know? They seemed so great at the beginning. But I work so much and get no recognition and I see everyday how they really don’t give a shit about anyone. So I’ve been looking.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and truly meant it. “I know how excited you were about that place.” 

You gave him a half hearted smile and shrug in response. 

Paul’s short and scrawny frame popped in his mind. He was maybe harmless physically in comparison to Bradley himself, sure, and he wasn’t all that bigger than you, either. However, It was the look he had in his eye that made him think that he shouldn’t be underestimated or disregarded.

He considered his next words carefully before speaking them. 

“I want you to be happy,” he said, his voice gentle and sincere as he lifted a hand and pushed some of your hair out of your face. “But I need you to be safe, too.”

“I am,” you told him, running the pads of your fingers down the side of his face. Your smile was soft and so, so beautiful. “I promise.” 

But Bradley had noticed how one of your windows was slightly cracked to allow the breeze to come through, and the lack of an alarm system that you swore you would get one day. He remembered how the window in your bathroom never quite locked right and the lack of lights out on the street. Still, though, there was little more he could do right now than take you at your word and trust you, and try to convince himself that his mind was conjuring up worst case scenarios because of how much you meant to him; how much you had always meant to him. He didn’t want to risk the opportunity of getting you back by being overbearing. So instead of voicing more of his concerns, he simply kissed your forehead and said a quiet “okay.”  

You slid off his lap and settled into his side again. You sat on the couch together for a long time, falling easily into conversation just as you had earlier; talking to you had always been so effortless. 

When Bradley got up to set the bowl of chips you had poured earlier back on the counter in the kitchen, he caught sight of the time on the microwave. He was surprised at how late it was. You had gotten back to your house around nine, and it was after midnight now. 

He braced himself against the counter and squeezed his eyes shut as he was hit with a feeling of sadness and anxiety at the thought of leaving. Despite all the talking you had done tonight, and the undeniable feelings you still had for each other, you hadn’t gotten around to what this night meant for the two of you moving forward, if anything at all. And god, he hoped there was something. With a deep breath, he pushed himself off the counter and made his way back into the living room. You looked up from the thread you were picking at on the blanket you had drug across the two of you about an hour ago and gave him a smile. 

“It’s getting late,” he said softly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. 

“Oh.” You glanced at your watch, eyebrows knitted together before you looked back at him. “I guess it is.” 

“I should probably get going.” 

He watched as your smile fell slightly, but you were quick to try and hide it. You threw the blanket off of you and walked with him to the entryway. You were silent as he slipped his shoes on. He paused before he opened the door, meeting your eyes. They said so much without you having to say anything at all. Feeling some of the anxiety slide off of him, he held open his arms. Your face was pressed into his chest barely two seconds later, holding onto him tightly. 

“I’m so glad I saw you tonight,” he said into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Me too.” 

Bradley held you for a long moment, and when he detached himself, it was with a sigh. His thumb brushed your cheek when he cupped your face in his hands. “I don’t want it to just be tonight, Bug.” 

Your eyes sparkled and instead of answering right away, you raised on your toes to kiss him. It was gentle, and you didn’t linger long enough for it to deepen, but his lips still tingled when you slowly fell back to your feet. 

“Me either, Bradley. How about tomorrow?” 

You bit your lip, but you couldn’t hide your smile even if you tried, and now Bradley didn’t want to leave for so many other reasons, including biting that lip himself. 

“Tomorrow,” he agreed instead. He brought you in for one more quick kiss, and when he pulled away, he breathed out a laugh, in a bit of disbelief at how his Friday night had turned out. 

“Lock the door behind me, okay? And close your living room window before you go to bed?” 

“I will,” you promised, and you were still smiling at him as he stepped onto the porch. You leant against the doorway as you held the front door open. “Text me when you get home, maybe?” 

“I will,” he echoed. He pointed briefly to the door, and you laughed softly, stepping back into the house. 

“Goodnight, Bradley.” 

“Night, Bug.” 

He waited until he heard the lock click into place before making his way to the Bronco. And when he turned the engine on, he caught sight of you closing and locking the window in the living room and pulling the curtains shut. He gave the street a once over but didn’t see anything out of place. So with another laugh and a shake of his head, he backed out of the driveway and made his way back to his own apartment. 

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Part Three :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: Thank you so much for the feedback on part one! I hope you enjoyed this one just as much. Likes/comments/reblogs are the best encouragement. I did some reconstruction of the masterlist, so hopefully that solves the issue of people not being tagged🖤

This story was meant to live in the abyss of lost stories that is my Google Docs. It only exists because Mak and Em never let me forget it. Thank you both so much. And thanks to Mak for the AMAZING banner!

Tag List (please let me know if you'd like to be removed or added!): @roosterforme - @mak-32 - @wildxwidow - @gretagerwigsmuse - @bradshawburner - @lilyevanswhore - @too-fangirl-to-fuction - @fav-fanficssss - @iamaslytherin0 - @benhardysdrumstick - @notroosterbradshaw - @1234-angelika - @sunflowersteves - @teacupsandtopgun - @sometimesanalice - @littlezee80 - @je-suis-prest-rachel - @khaylin27 - @infamous-reindeer - @hotch-meeeeeuppppp - @sarahjoestewy-blog - @yanna-banana - @inthestars-underthesun - @avengersfan25 - @wkndwlff - @lt-spork - @indynerdgirl - @mssleepy876b - @kassieesworld - @mizzzpink @a-serene-place-to-be - @memoriesat30

@sexualparkour - @sadpetalsstuff - @almostgenerallyalways - @alilstressyandlotdepressy - @ccbb2222 - @taytaylala12 - @starkleila - @shelbycillian - @mavrellover91 - @vici111 - @lunamooncole - @blackwidownat2814 - @pisupsala - @sylviebell - @bellaireland1981 - @jynxmirage - @shanimallina87

@greatszu

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine

[lemonbarnes]

so good, i cannot wait for the next part. even more curious to find out who this guy is.

Invisible Smoke - Two

Summary: There is something going on with Jake’s favorite mechanic. And he continues to pry.  Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/F!Reader Word Count: 9.7k A/N: Thank you for all the love on the first chapter, I truly wasn’t expecting it. I apologize for the wait, but hopefully the length will make up for it!  Warnings: Naval inaccuracies, themes of stalking, cursing, mentions of terminal and life-threatening illnesses, and combative fluff :)

The ceremony was wonderful if not a little long winded but you hardly cared as you stood with the rest of the crowd to cheer as Captain Mitchell and Admiral Simpson presented the Daggers, officially a squadron of Lieutenant Commanders. You caught Rooster’s eye, having watched Captain Mitchell pin the leaves to his uniform, and saw that he still had tears lining his lower lashes. You winked at him, earning a small smile and a bit of pink in his cheeks. You were so proud.

“I’m so happy for him!” Came a warbled voice and you held the phone in your hand a little higher. This wasn’t exactly how you thought you’d meet Jake’s family (not that you had ever given it much thought, really) but when he’d explained that his family couldn’t make it out to the ceremony for one reason or another, you had volunteered to make sure their FaceTime was at the right angle so they could see everything. There were four of them all crammed together—his mother, Sandra, and three sisters, Mia, Kelly, and Alex—staring at what you assumed was an iPad with how Sandra was holding it; blonde heads swiveling together to track Jake’s movements on the stage had been quite the spectacle but when you had glanced up to see Jake looking at you with the biggest, brightest smile you had ever seen it had nearly made you drop the phone.

Embarrassing.

Keep reading

#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #top gun maverick #tgm

[lemonbarnes]

Invisible Smoke - One

Summary: There is something going on with Jake’s favorite mechanic.  Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/F!Reader Word Count: 6.7k 

A/N: Tentatively dipping into the TGM fandom after months of lurking. I do subscribe to the belief that Jake likes women who are a bit mean to him, so I hope you enjoy that dynamic, too! I’m sure there will be general Naval inaccuracies but I tried. I grew up on Air Force bases so if I use an incorrect term, I apologize! Please let me know what you think! Trigger Warnings: This series will touch on themes of stalking, domestic violence, and attempted murder (not committed by Jake). Please do not read if this will upset you. You are responsible for the content you consume.

It started slow.

For as long as Jake had known you, which was just over a year give or take, you had never been a jumpy person but everything now seemed to have your eyes darting from one corner of the hangar to the other, from one table at the Hard Deck to the next, as if you were waiting for something or someone to appear and do something.

But what was it?

Some Ensign fresh off the boat dropped a tray of beers and nearly had you leaping from your seat beside the pool tables before you settled again, an unsteady and unconvincing smile on your face when Jake turned to you. Your smile twitched, as did your grasp on the drink (which you swore was actually called Bee’s Knees) in your hand.

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[lemonbarnes]

Batting Practice Part 9 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley takes you out, and it's clear he remembers all the details you told him. He even treats you to a trip to the batting cages, and at the end of the night, he's more than happy to give you a little tour of the Bronco.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing and smut (18+)

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun!

You locked yourself away in your bedroom as soon as Molly arrived and reread the text Bradley had sent earlier this morning. You had picked out a cute sundress to wear tonight, but now you were scrambling to change up your outfit.

Bradley Bradshaw: I wanted to surprise you tonight, Kitten, but I need to make sure you wear appropriate attire. I want to take you to the batting cages after dinner. You mind wearing sneakers?

You didn't mind doing anything he wanted. 

Quickly you perused all of the jeans you had lined up on your bed. You chose the pair that had a few casual rips and made your butt look good. You paired them with a flattering black top and some casual slip on sneakers. And then you focused on getting your hair and makeup in order. 

While you were a little hesitant for Everett to know you were going out with his coach tonight, you didn't see any way to hide it. He was making a pillow and blanket fort with your sister in the living room at the moment, and you figured Bradley would want to see him when he came to pick you up. 

As you were swiping another layer of mascara on your lashes and double checking yourself in the mirror, you heard Molly yell, "He's here!"

Your heart was absolutely racing as you capped your makeup and ran down the stairs just as you saw Bradley approaching your porch through the front window.

"Coach is here!" Everett called as you opened the door for him. Bradley was holding a bouquet of flowers in each hand, and he looked impossibly handsome. 

"Hi," he greeted all three of you, since Molly and Ev were now crowding around the door as well. 

"Hi, Coach. Come on in," you told him, nudging your sister out of the way with your leg. 

"I got one of these for you," he said, handing you some flowers. "And one for you," he told Molly, handing her the other bouquet with a smile. "Thanks for making tonight happen."

You would have been a little concerned about the way Molly was looking up at him if she was any other woman except for your sister.

"And this is for you," Bradley told Everett, extracting a baseball card from his back pocket. 

Everett's eyes went wide. "A baseball card? It's a Phillies player!"

"Yeah," Bradley replied with a laugh. "Do you collect them?"

"No," Everett whispered, gently turning the card over in his hands. You were ready to cancel dinner and the batting cages and take this man right up to your bedroom. The way he treated your son was perhaps the sexiest thing about him.

"Well, I do. That's one of mine, but you can have it," Bradley told him. "If you want to collect them, too, I'll get you a binder to keep them in."

Now both Molly and Everett were looking at Bradley like they never wanted him to leave their presence. 

"You ready to go?" he asked you softly, and you realized you were quite mesmerized by him too. 

"I'll take care of these for you," Molly said, gently pulling the flowers out of your hand. "Go have fun."

"Oh, Molly," Bradley added with a grin. "Bob says hi."

You turned and looked at your sister, and she was biting her lip and trying not to smile. That was interesting. 

When Bradley held out his hand, you laced your fingers with his, and both of you waved goodbye to Everett. 

Bradley opened the passenger door and helped you climb into the Bronco, but before he closed it, you gave him a quick kiss. "Thanks for the flowers. And Molly's flowers. And Everett's baseball card. You're really fucking sweet."

Bradley laughed and kissed you a little harder. "We're just getting started, Kitten."

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

The flowers and baseball card seemed to have the unexpected but also desirable effect of your hands constantly on Bradley. 

You held his hand as he drove to the beach and found a parking space. You linked your fingers with his while he led you along the boardwalk to get burgers. And you wrapped your arms around his waist while you waited in line. 

"Okay, Kitten. I know it looks like I put in very little effort here, but you told me you like cheap burgers."

You looked up at him, your chin grazing his chest while you laughed. "My favorite."

"These ones are good," he promised you, guiding you up to the window when it was time to order. You turned around in Bradley's arms, and now it was his turn to get his hands on you. He listened to you rattle off your burger order as he stood behind you and let his hands settle on your waist. 

"Make it two," Bradley told the guy who was working once you were done ordering. "And you're holding something special back there for me as well."

You turned and looked up at Bradley over your shoulder, but he just shrugged and gave you his most innocent face.

"What?" he asked, trying not to laugh. 

"You're going to go out of your way to make tonight perfect, aren't you?"

"Of course, Kitten."

He watched your brow crease. "Huh. I never went out anywhere with Frank. Same goes for Danny. Unless you count dinner at Red Lobster after our quickie courthouse wedding."

That was the second time you had mentioned how badly your douchebag ex husband and coworker fling had treated you. Bradley desperately wanted more information, but a bag of burgers and a bottle of chilled champagne were being handed to him through the window.

"Veuve Clicquot? That's like a hundred dollars a bottle!" you said when the champagne caught your eye. 

"Oh, that's how you pronounce it? I just asked the woman at the store what to get for someone I was trying to impress."

You looked giddy as he handed it to you. "Well you can go back and tell her that you did a great job with that."

Bradley led you back to the Bronco where he pulled out the heavy blanket he had stashed on the backseat. "Feel like watching the sunset on the beach?"

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

You and Bradley ate your burgers side by side on the blanket, facing the setting sun and the Pacific Ocean with paper cups of champagne. 

"Your job sounds a lot more exciting than mine," you commented after he told you about the six months he spent on an aircraft carrier last year.

"Kitten. Six months in the middle of the ocean with nobody to hang out with except Bob. Are you insane?"

You laughed and turned to look at him after you finished your food. "Are you insane? Bob is a literal angel! He's the sweetest man!"

"Hey, now. Did Bob ever buy you a three dollar burger? I don't think so."

You laughed harder as he leaned a little closer and kissed your cheek. "No, he never did that." Then your eyes went wide. "Why did you tell my sister that Bob said hi?"

Bradley shrugged. "They were pretty chatty after practice on Monday. Bob usually flirts by talking about income taxes or recipes he tried out. But Molly was laughing. Quite a bit. You have to bring her to another practice and see it for yourself."

You squeaked. "Molly thinks he's hot."

You watched Bradley grin and rub his hand over his mustache.

"And I still think he's so sweet," you added. "And so do all the other tee ball moms. You should hear what they say about the two of you."

"What do they say?" he asked, sounding slightly concerned. 

You snorted and shook your head. "That your arms are the size of fire hydrants. That you and Bob could take turns bench pressing them. That they would love a tour of your Bronco. I thought that one sounded like an innuendo, but I'm not exactly sure."

He smirked at you. "I'm only giving a tour of my Bronco to you."

"So... it is an innuendo then," you said, teasing him as he topped off your cup of champagne. 

"Don't take this the wrong way, Kitten, but is there a reason why you decided to get involved with that shitty guy from work?"

You glanced down at the blanket and scrunched up your nose. Frank had been an easy, convenient option, or at least that's what you had told yourself. When you looked up at Bradley, you took a deep breath and said, "I didn't think I could do better."

Bradley almost dropped the bottle of champagne, barely catching it before it hit the blanket. 

"Are you fucking joking?"

"No," you said quietly. 

"Jesus, Kitten. You could do way better than me, and I'd like to think I'm an upgrade from Frank who doesn't know how to take no for an answer."

You turned to look at the sun as it started to dip below the horizon, illuminating everything in orange. But your eyes were drawn back to Bradley and his beautiful face.

"See, Coach, the thing is... Frank was already an upgrade over Danny. We only got married, because I was pregnant. We weren't really even together."

"Kitten," he whispered, hooking his fingers underneath your chin and running his thumb along your lips.

"It's really all okay, because I got Everett out of the deal." The last thing you wanted was for Bradley to feel bad for you. Your life turned out better than you ever thought it would when you were still married. 

"Your son thinks you're cool," he said with a smile, and you smiled back. "I grew up without a dad, too. It scares me a bit how much I can relate to Everett."

You leaned into his palm where it was cupping your cheek. "What happened to your dad?"

"He died when I was four. And my mom died when I was nineteen."

You felt your face crumble as you scrambled across the blanket to reach for him. 

"It's okay, Kitten," he said with a soft chuckle as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "It was a long time ago."

"That just makes me want to hug you more," you told him, your words muffled against his neck. The deep laughter that rumbled in his chest made you push him back until he was laying on the blanket with you on top of him, your cheek resting on his chest.

Bradley tucked one arm behind his head and kissed your hair while he kept his other arm around your back. The two of you ended up watching the sun disappear from view and the sky start to turn purple with you draped across him, not saying a word until the first few stars were twinkling. 

"You ready to visit one of my favorite places with me?" Bradley asked softly when you tipped your chin up to look at him.

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

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" you asked, biting your lip as he parked at the batting cages. "I'm not even sure I know how to hold a bat correctly."

"I thought you were a pro now, Kitten. Watched all those YouTube videos."

You shot him a playfully scathing look as you unbuckled your seatbelt. 

"But don't worry," he added, leaning across the seat to kiss you. "I'm gonna be a lot more hands on." 

You pressed your lips together and nodded, and Bradley was excited for this. 

It was dark out now, but the bright stadium lights allowed this place to stay open late. There were some teenagers and another couple here as well, and Bradley led you inside to pay.

The air conditioner was blasting, and Bradley immediately opened his arms for you to snuggle against him. "Hi, one cage for an hour, please," he said, handing over his credit card. You were snuggling against him, but your lips also found their way to his neck as he quickly signed his credit card receipt. Bradley grunted your name as you kissed him, contemplating just taking you back to the car.

"Show me how to play baseball," you whispered. "I want to be a power hitter, too."

Bradley laughed and took you by the hand. "You gonna behave?"

You just shrugged as he led you to the helmets and helped you select one in your size. He grabbed one as well, along with two bats, and headed to the assigned cage with you, popping the gate open and then closing it behind you both. The sounds of other people hitting balls and laughing filled the air. 

"Keep your helmet on the whole time, okay?" He wiggled it onto your head and then gave you a kiss. "Want me to go first? Show you where to stand?"

"Yes, Coach Bradley," you said with a smirk. He wanted to wipe that smirk off your face with his lips. 

Instead he hummed as he positioned you in the corner of the chainlink cage and put his own helmet on. He turned the pitching machine on and set it to the highest speed. 

"See that light?" he asked, pointing down to the far end where the machine stood. "When I press the button to signal that I am ready for some pitches, it will change from red to green before each ball gets launched."

"Okay," you nodded, letting him know you understood.

"I have it set on fast, but I come here a lot. We can slow it down when it's your turn." Bradley pressed the button one more time and watched the light change to green as he got into his batting stance. He took a dozen pitches, hitting all of them hard up into the mesh or down along the ground. 

Maybe Bob was right; maybe he should join the officers rec league. He'd probably be better than everyone else, but maybe he could pitch instead of playing shortstop. He thought Everett might like to come watch him play. You and he could sit in the bleachers and cheer for him, and then Bradley could take Everett to pick out some baseball cards at the flea market in Coronado. 

"I know it sounds cliche, but keep your eye on the ball," he told you, hitting a few more pitches. "That's more important when you're hitting against a real pitcher than a machine, from a safety standpoint. But it's still important."

"You're all about safety, huh? I think it's part of the reason you make such a good tee ball coach." 

He turned and glanced at you. He hadn't really considered that he might be doing a good job at coaching the team; he usually deferred to Bob most of the time. But he was enjoying more aspects of coaching than he thought he would be. 

When he was done with his second round of pitches, he paused the machine and picked up the smaller bat. "Super into safety, Kitten. You have any idea how upset I'd be if you got hurt because of something I could have prevented?"

You took the bat from him and said, "Tell me."

"Devastated," he whispered, hooking one finger through your belt loop and pulling you toward him while he backed away. "Ready to give this a try?"

He turned you so you were in position with him standing behind you. "Plant your back foot over this way," he said, gently pushing your right foot back with his. "And then bend your knees a little more. Perfect."

"How do I hold the bat?" you asked over your shoulder.

Bradley wrapped his arms around you, and helped you place your hands where they needed to go. His front was pressed against your back, and he could feel the friction of his jeans rubbing against yours. 

"Like this," he rasped. You had goosebumps on your arms, even though it was still warm outside, and you were leaning back against him a bit.

When you were in position, he let his hands trail the length of your arms and down your sides until they settled on your hips. He'd been dying to be able to touch you freely like this for weeks, and now you were egging him on. 

"Like this?" you asked, your voice practically a moan as you pressed your ass back against him.

"Just like that," he agreed, letting his fingers slide up inside your shirt, making you giggle as he caressed your skin. "You ready for me to turn it on?" He squeezed you with both hands before letting go.

"I thought it was turned on," you mumbled before turning your face toward him and saying, "Yes, coach."

Bradley laughed as he selected the slowest pitch speed. "Watch for the green light, Kitten."

You swung too late at the first pitch, missing it completely. Same for the second and third pitches as well.

"You're swinging a little late, but you look good. Really good," he promised, staring at your ass as you swung a little earlier this time. You almost had the timing down, but you were just not quite there yet. "I'm pausing it for a minute." Bradley watched you bend to pick up one of the balls and he groaned. "Fuck."

"What?" you asked innocently. 

"You know what, Kitten. You love teasing me," he said, taking the ball out of your hand and tossing it toward the mesh fencing. He was a little hard now; something about the combination of your body and watching you try to hit a ball was really doing it for him. 

"Get me back into position?" you asked, and Bradley had his hands all over you again. When you wiggled slowly against him, he groaned before releasing you. 

"Focus. Let's try this again. Remember to swing earlier," he said, adjusting himself as the machine sent a pitch your way. 

You missed the first pitch and groaned. You missed the second one, still swinging a little late.

"Come on, show me where Everett gets his skills from," Bradley told you. "You can do it, Kitten."

Then you nailed the third pitch, sending the ball up into the netting. "Oh my god, did you see that?" you screeched. 

"Sure did! But pay attention, you've got more pitches coming."

You hit the next few in a row as well, and then Bradley turned off the machine and caught you just as you jumped into his arms. 

You dropped the bat to the ground and kissed him. "I'm a power hitter," you whispered against his lips with a smile. Bradley pulled off your helmet and let that fall to the ground too. He held your lips to his with a firm hand at the back of your neck.

He was certain you could tell he was a little hard, the way you were moving against him. "You proud of yourself?" he asked. 

That simple question could have so many meanings, but the way you gasped, "Yes," had him slipping his fingers underneath your shirt again. 

He kneaded your skin softly while you kissed him, and he finally managed to say, "Let's get out of here, Kitten."

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

The short ride back to your house was quiet, the air in the Bronco thick with anticipation. Bradley must know you couldn't invite him inside tonight. Even if you could sneak him in and back out again, you weren't going to do it when Molly was there.  

When Bradley pulled into your driveway and cut the engine you had your seatbelts off immediately. "Come here, Kitten," he whispered, easing his seat back and rubbing his thigh. He groaned as you crawled across the seat toward him and kept his hands planted at his sides until you were straddling his right thigh. 

"This is technically our third date, right?" you asked, licking your lips.

"That's right," he confirmed.

"Makes this okay, then," you whispered. You were wet; you could tell your underwear was soaked from the anticipation of the ride home. But it felt so good pressing yourself against him, like you were quenching a need you didn't even know you had before tonight. 

"Hi, Coach," you said softly, scooting up along his thigh with a soft gasp as your hands came to rest on his shoulders. 

Bradley's hands found your hips in the darkness, and then his lips and mustache were on your neck. "Hi, Kitten." He bit you softly, and your head tipped back slowly, your body arching against his. 

You could feel yourself slowly grinding against his leg, and then you stopped yourself, embarrassed. You were like a cat in heat, humping his thigh. 

Digging your fingers into his soft hair, you pulled his head back so you could get your lips on his. "Don't stop, baby," he commanded, hands on your hips guiding your core slowly along his thigh. "Feel good?" his breaths were a little shorter, and his voice was deeper now. The interior of the Bronco was so quiet, every single tiny noise either of you made felt impossibly amplified. 

"Feels so good," you whined softly, right next to his ear, and he jerked his leg up against you, making you cry out his name. 

"That's right, Kitten. I'll take care of you," he promised. "Give you what you need."

You nodded vigorously, lips parted before you mashed your mouth to his, letting him invade you with his tongue and taste your teeth. He swallowed all of your moans as he pushed his hands higher up your shirt until he was pulling it off. You were moving against him slowly, his huge palms warm on your back as the cool air hit your skin. 

Bradley leaned back against the seat and smiled at you. "Been dying to see everything since you sent me those dirty photos while you were at work."

His fingers found their way between the fabric of your plain black bra and your skin, and you could hear yourself begging him to unhook it. 

When you felt the fabric slide away from your breasts, only to be replaced by his rough thumbs, you became one hundred percent certain that he was going to make you orgasm with your jeans still on. 

"So pretty," he whispered, toying gently with your breasts while you moved your hips along his thigh, your movements becoming a little more erratic. 

"Bradley," you gasped, a little nervous about what was going to happen. "Is this okay?" Your voice was quavering. 

"I love it," he promised before his lips wrapped around your tight nipple, and you were practically seeing stars. Your underwear was slick and soaking wet as your clit was met with the perfect amount of pressure. 

Bradley sucked harder on your right nipple, palming your left breast a little roughly. "Oh, god," you gasped. He was amazing. He was doing everything you needed him to with almost no prompting. 

"Fucking gorgeous," he murmured, brushing your wet, hard nipple with his lips and mustache. Now you were bucking against him as he devoured you, all needy lips and gentle teeth. Bradley held your chest to his lips, both hands on your back as your legs started to shake.

"Oh!" you cried out into the darkness. "Bradley!" 

"Cum, baby." He was swirling his tongue against you as you stuttered and clenched deliciously around nothing, soaking your panties even more. 

You rode out your orgasm until your hips were barely rocking against him. Bradley was rock hard inside his jeans, pressing against your right leg, and when you reached for his zipper, he eased you back along the seat with his knee pressing firmly against your core.

Once you had eased his zipper down, you reached inside to stroke him through his underwear. He hissed for you when you squeezed him gently. He was huge. He was going to make you feel so good all over again.

Your phone alarm started to screech inside your purse, and Bradley whacked his head on the passenger door while you scrambled beneath him.

"I'm so sorry," you said breathlessly, reaching to try to silence your phone, but it took you a few seconds to find it. "Sorry."

Bradley just grunted and kissed your cheek. "Is that your cue to end our third date?" he asked through clenched teeth. 

"I'm sorry," you said again.

He was still holding himself above you, and you assumed he was still hard when you started to reach for him. But he eased himself away from you, and you wanted to scream out that it wasn't fair. 

"Bradley," you whispered, but he was already helping you up to a seated position. When you reached for his jeans again, he stopped you, and brought your hand up to his lips. 

"It's okay, Kitten. We'll have more time another day," he told you, reaching for your bra and helping you put it on. 

"I'm sorry, Bradley. It's just that Molly has to work tomorrow, and I promised I wouldn't be out-"

He quieted you with a kiss, letting his forehead rest against yours. 

"I had fun with you tonight." His breath was hot against your face. "I want to go out with you again."

"Me too," you agreed right away. That wasn't even a question in your mind. 

He pulled your shirt over your head before he popped open the passenger door. The air outside felt freezing as you stepped down onto your driveway, but Bradley followed you out, zipping up his jeans before wrapping his arm around you. 

As he walked you up to your door, you bit your lip and nudged his semi hard length with your palm, and he groaned before he started to laugh. 

"I'm sorry about that," you said with a grin. 

"Don't be, Kitten," he said and then kissed you. "Got you off. That was more important."

You squeaked as his lips met your neck. "Nobody else has ever made me cum like that," you whispered into the cool air. Bradley groaned against your skin, making you clench as you added, "Frank couldn't get me off at all. I had to think about you to be able to finish."

Bradley froze and then backed you up against your porch railing, examining your face. "You thought about me when you were with another man?" he growled, and you trembled.

"Yes," you whispered, and he was pushing himself against you and tasting your tongue again. You were about to chance taking him up to your bedroom with you, but your neighbor's motion activated light turned on and lit up your entire porch. 

Bradley pulled his mouth away from yours, but he was panting now, and his cock was twitching against your belly.

"I'll be thinking about that forever," he promised, looking at you in awe. He exhaled a ragged breath and said, "Go inside. I'll see you at the game tomorrow, Kitten."

You moaned as he stepped away from you and guided you to the door by your shoulders. "Good night, Coach." With one more kiss, you were opening your front door and letting your fingers brush against his. 

When you closed your door and leaned against it, you saw Molly was smirking from your couch, holding a book on her lap. 

"Oh my, look at you," she said, making you grin and giggle. "The two of you were sitting in the driveway for an awfully long time."

"Shut up," you mumbled, still smiling at her as she started to grab her things so she could leave. "Thanks, Molly."

After your sister left, you were too jittery to go to bed. Your skin felt flushed with heat, so you stripped down to your bra and damp underwear and fell back onto your bed, a puddle of satiated lust. 

You giggled as you thought of the state Bradley left in. You grabbed your phone and texted him.

Sorry I left you with such a big problem to take care of.

He texted back so quickly, you were scrambling to see what he said. 

Bradley Bradshaw: I just got home. I'm about to take care of it, Kitten.

You sucked air into your lungs, heart pounding as you wrote back.

Just how big of a problem is it?

He attached a photo that had your jaw dropping open. His cock was huge, tenting his gray boxer shorts. And he was grabbing himself through the fabric. You groaned as you were filled with need once again.

Bradley Bradshaw: Massive.

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

Massive. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

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[lemonbarnes]

Blow by Blow | Masterlist | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (18+)

Synopsis: Bradley’s washed up before his career has even really begun. He doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes and he doesn’t want someone else to either. Stuck in limbo, living the same way he always has, the opportunity to step up wanders through the door of his gym in a mini dress and heels that are a size too big. Boxing au.

Warnings: unspecified age gap, violence, probs boxing inaccuracies somewhere along the line, blood and injuries throughout the fic but will be specified in the warnings of the chapter. Smut and other 18+ content, minors dni

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[lemonbarnes]

In Too Deep | Six | Jake Seresin x mom!reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Jake Seresin had sworn he was never going to be a father. He liked his life the way that it was, child-free, stress free and chaos free. Free being the key word. After falling for you, it becomes clear that Jake is in for an attitude adjustment, whether he likes it or not.

Warnings: no smut, maybe allusions to sex at various points, swearing, fluff and teeny bits of angst if you squint, Jake and Riley prepare to bond over their bad dad issues 🫶🏼

…

“Have a good day today!” Jake calls.

The car door swings shut behind the perpetually angry little girl and Jake sighs. He pulls the car away from the drop off zone and glances back to check that she got in okay. He hadn’t mentioned any of this when he called you last night. Only the good parts. Like Jax speaking more, playing at the park, finding the worm. Calling him dad for the first time.

He glances back at the little boy through the rear view mirror. He’s big enough now to not be rear facing, and grins at Jake as their eyes meet.

“Park?” He asks, tilting his head slightly like an excited puppy. Jake’s lips quirk softly, it’s hard not to smile when Jax gives him that huge smile.

“We’re gonna go see Uncle Rue first, but we can go to the park later.” He explains to him as the car pulls out onto the road. School drop off has always been a point of contention between you and Riley, so today is nothing different, your kid just isn’t a morning person.

But, she has barely said a word since her dad dropped her off yesterday and Jake’s not sure where he stands. The line between being negligent and nosy seems blurred when it’s a kid like Riley.

He can’t stop thinking about her attitude towards him. You’ll never agree to a future with him if it jeopardizes a relationship with one of your children, and he wouldn’t want you to. But god, he wants a future with you. More than anything, actually. Sleeping in your bed, spending time with your children — Jake feels closer to you as these past four weeks draw to a close than he ever has before.

He dreamt last night about what it would be like to marry you. Jax was a little older in the dream, and he was the ring bearer. He was beaming, and you were overjoyed at the sight of your little boy in a suit.

Riley, a foreboding and absent presence in his dream. Something missing from the perfect day that weighed in like a big grey cloud. He would want her there in real life, but he would want her to be happy to be there. Jake knows that if he proposed to you now, Riley’d be furious.

Plus, the two of you haven’t even been together a year yet, he’s not sure how you would take all of this future talk. If, a year ago, you had told him that he’d be driving your kid to school and thinking about marriage — he would’ve laughed in your face.

Jax balanced against his side and a backpack slung over his other shoulder, Jake’s juggling keys, a toddler and a water bottle in his hands as he lets the door swing shut behind him. Payback’s brows raise just slightly as he sets his coffee down on the coaster and leans back against the leather armchair that he’s situated in.

Rueben can’t pretend not to be taken aback at how quickly Jake seems to have mastered the daddy-daycare act. But then, given that this is the same man who taught himself piano in under a week just to spite Rooster, Rueben should’ve known better than to second guess Jake. He has always made everything look easy.

“Look at you,” Rueben teases, leaning forwards and smiling as Jake hands him the wriggling toddler. He sets JJ down on his knee and coos a hello towards him as Jake offloads everything that he’s holding and huffs out. “You’re a natural.”

“Doesn’t feel that way.” Jake mumbles tiredly as he sinks into the armchair opposite his friend. He smooths a hand over his forehead and tries to relax, stretching his legs out.

Rueben cocks an eyebrow at him and catches Jax’s hand seconds before it has time to dip into his still hot coffee. “Trouble in paradise, buddy?”

“Daddy.” Jax points at Jake and turns his head to look at Rueben. He points again to make his point clear. Jake stares across at the little boy and sighs softly.

“Well, that’s new.” Payback comments, brows raised. He glances between Jake and the toddler, then sets Jax on the ground so that he can stretch his legs.

“I don’t know what to do, I mean — they’ve already got a dad, and he’s gonna be pissed if he finds out that his kid is calling me daddy — but he’s never around!” Jake goes into defensive mode right away. Payback just sits there and watches, keeping one eye focused on the toddler as his friend rambles and rants in front of him.

With two daughters and a wife who is infinitely more intelligent than him, Payback has been a good listener for a long time. He just sits back and lets Jake go for as long as he needs, nodding his head as he tries to keep up with the pace of the panicked speech.

Jake finally stops with a slow inhale. He glances down towards Jax and takes note of the confusion on the toddler’s chubby features, then starts to wonder if he was even making any sense at all.

“Where’d Hangman go?” Payback taunts, giving a soft shake of his head. He looks Jake over like he’s really looking for the guy he used to know.

Unimpressed, Jake rubs tiredly at his temple. “Huh?”

“I mean Hangman’s worried about who he’s going home with tomorrow night and how much protein is in his lunch. I don’t know who this guy is, but Hangman would hate him.” Rueben’s just teasing, he’s smiling at Jake and it’s just a comment. He doesn’t mean anything by it. Jake glances down to the kid in front of him and then at the ground.

“Tell me about it.” Jake mumbles.

Payback scrunches his brows slightly, “Alright, man. What’s going on? — You’re weirding me out with all of this doom and gloom.”

Jake takes a quick look around him. It’s a Wednesday morning, right after the school run. There are plenty of toddlers in here, and adults having chats. It’s just that Jake and Payback are the only ones here that are men. Jake wouldn’t have been caught dead here when he was Hangman.

As much as the callsign was made to taunt him, Jake grew into it. He became Hangman. Confident, suave, independent. If he’s not that, he’s not too sure who he is.

“You’re right,” Jake’s shrug is cold and unattached. He won’t look at Jax as he speaks. Rueben stares right ahead at his friend. “This whole thing. You’re right, it’s just not me.”

There’s a long pause. As much as he wants to check on Payback’s reaction, Jake can’t bring himself to lift his gaze from the polished tile under his shoe for fear of meeting Jax’s gaze. There’s no way he can look into those big, round eyes and admit that he’s quite simply not enough.

The coffee shop chatter carries on around them. Jax carries on between them, toying around with the action figure that he has been clutching all morning. He crashes it into Payback’s knee and makes an explosion sound. Rueben smooths a hand tenderly over the little boy’s back.

“Jake.” His tone is dead serious now, and quiet. It’s his dad voice. Jake recognises it. He’s seen Payback gently scolding his kid enough times to know that that’s what is happening now. Rueben sits forward slightly and covers Jax’s ears with his hands. “You say that shit to me again and we’re going to have a problem.”

Jake looks up and frowns at him. “What?”

“You don’t get to quit because you’re freaked out. You do that to these kids and I swear to god, I’ll never talk to you again.” Payback swears, still covering the toddler’s ears. Jax doesn’t even seem to mind, playing calmly with his action figure and kicking his legs.

Jake adjusts the cap on his head and checks around him again. He’s fidgety and agitated, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “You don’t get it.”

“I don’t? — You think that I don’t get scared shitless like three times a week that I’m not good enough for my kids? — I’m terrified of screwing them up, but I’m here, and I’m doing what I can.”

“It’s complicated. They’re not,” Jake pauses to glance down as Jax wriggles around in Rueben’s lap, struggling to try to get down. “They aren’t mine.”

Knowing better than to fight against a toddler that has already made up their mind, Rueben moves to that Jax can get down. Right away, Jax brushes past him and heads for Jake. He stands between Jake’s legs and leans into his thigh, holding up his action figure for Jake to see.

“Daddy, look.”

Jake smiles softly and scrunches his nose just the slightest bit. Jax grins at the attention and presents the action figure closer to Jake, almost swinging it into his chin. The toddler seems to remind himself to be more gentle as he leans in against Jake’s chest. Jake squeezes at his sides, making the toddler squeal and squirm in front of him. He lifts him up and sets him down on his knee.

Rueben stares across at Jake.

“It’s complicated.” Jake insists as he smooths a hand over Jax’s wild hair to tame it. Jax taps Jake’s arm to make sure that he’s watching and flies his action figure around in front of them.

“Not to me,” His tone is gentler this time, he’s relaxed as he watches Jake and the kid together. They look so natural together. Payback motions and Jake covers Jax’s ears without question, gently kissing the curls on top of his head. “He doesn’t know who his dad is and who isn’t. He knows who’s there for him.”

“Yeah, well Riley knows and she hates me.” Jake answers back. JJ squints across at Payback, seemingly aware of the fact that they’re discussing something that they don’t want him to hear. He quickly goes back to playing with his toy.

“That’s what kids do — look, Jake, I can sit here and tell you about how much kids are going to break your heart, but,” He stops to sigh, smoothing a hand over his facial hair. He glances quickly between Jake and the oblivious kid sitting on his leg. “If you’re going to leave, man, just go ahead and do it.”

Jake’s brows scrunch together just slightly.

“But you don’t get to come back.” Payback explains calmly. He looks at Jake, deadly serious. “You leave those kids and you’re gone for good. Are you good with never seeing him again?”

Jake takes his hands away from Jax’s ears and squeezes his sides softly. The toddler turns and squeals excitedly, grinning up at Jake. It’s scary, sure. But it’s scarier to imagine not seeing this face every day, that cute little smile and hearing those excited giggles.

And god, he’s never loved anyone like he loves you. These past three weeks have been hell without you, he has been counting down the days until you’re back with him again. Never seeing you again isn’t even something that he had considered. His crisis of faith is cut short as his phone rings loud in his pocket.

He slips it from his jeans and takes the call, pinning the phone between his ear and shoulder as he keeps Jax steady in his lap. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Riley’s stepfather?”

Luckily, with the day off, Payback was more than happy to take Jax for a while. Jake quickly yanks his cap off of his head and tugs his fingers through his hair, swallowing the lump in his throat as he steps through the doors of the school. Riley’s sitting on a chair outside of the principal’s office, scowling at the floor with her arms across her chest.

The principal is crouched in front of her, trying to talk to her calmly. Riley’s silent, staring at a dirt smudge of the floor.

“Riley?”

The principal stands and turns, extending an open palm towards Jake swiftly. “Ah. Mr. Seresin. A quick word in my office, please?”

It’s clear immediately that Jake has never done this before. He doesn’t bother taking a seat, even when Mr. Anderson settles behind his desk and motions for Jake to do so. He swallows nervously and asks if Riley is okay.

The principal watches Jake’s reaction calmly as he explains what happened. Disbelief comes first, it crosses his face clearly but his Navy career has taught him better than to voice his disagreement out loud.

There just is no way that Riley would have cursed at a teacher. Jake is sure of it. He’s sure of it because he is pretty confident that if Riley knew any curse words, she would have already directed a few of them at him.

She has always been a delight in school — you were always bragging about how great she was doing in her classes.

Jake pinches the bridge of his nose as the principal explains further. Great, so not only is he annoying Riley with his mere existence, but he’s screwing up her future now too.

“We aren’t going to suspend her.”

Jake sighs in relief and leans his head back.

“Y’know, this is the first time that it has happened and we’re confident that it won’t happen again. But, um, Mr. Seresin— I really hope that you don’t think I’m overstepping here, but,” He pushes his round glasses up the bridge of his nose as he stands. Jake gets the feeling that he won’t like what’s coming next. “I’m not sure that you’re really qualified to get Riley through this time in her life. Maybe you could talk to her mother and—“

All semblance of being calm and composed flies out the window as Jake cocks his head at the geeky looking brunette behind the desk. The principal swallows softly and stops talking.

“I’ve got it. Thanks.” Jake bites.

Long day after fucking long day. Only seven more of them until you’re home and he’s no longer outnumbered. He lets the door to the office slam behind him as he steps back out into the reception. “Put your coat on, let’s go.”

“Not cold.” Riley argues, slinging it over her arm and grabbing her backpack. She walks for the door before she even has it over her shoulder. Jake turns to follow her but stops as he catches sight of a familiar face. There’s a blonde walking along the hall with a lanyard around her neck saying substitute.

It takes him a couple of seconds, standing there and trying to place where he knows her from. Then it clicks. The smiling face leaning over Alex’s shoulder the other day. His lips part as he looks back towards Riley.

“Oh, shit, Riley.”

…

We

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@frenchtoastix

@wildxwidow

@vienna

@hopeless-romanticnamed-s

@indynerdgirl

@marantha

@jostyriggslover96

@percysaidnever

@coldmuffinbanditshoe

@diamond-3

@galaxy-moon

[lemonbarnes]

In Too Deep Masterlist

Jake Seresin becomes a Step Dad <3

Jake Seresin had sworn he was never going to be a father. He liked his life the way that it was, child-free, stress free and chaos free. Free being the key word. After falling for you, it becomes clear that Jake is in for an attitude adjustment, whether he likes it or not.

…

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

[lemonbarnes]

mouth open, you're high (rooster x reader x hangman) [1]

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x F!Civilian!Reader x Bradley 'Rooster’ Bradshaw

Rating: E

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: endgame polyamory, 18+ sexual content, exhibitionism/voyeurism, PIV, vaginal sex, fingering, spitting, eventual MMF oral sex, slight angst, mostly fluff.

Summary: Rooster witnesses an intimate moment between you and Jake. A week later at a small get-together, things take a turn you weren't expecting. Good thing the guys know a thing or two about going with the flow.

A/N: who doesn't want to get railed by these two at once? that's my excuse for this. The second part will come sometime later this week.

“I hate this,” you mutter, referring to the mindless action movie playing at a low volume on the screen. “Can’t we watch something else?”

“I can’t find the remote,” your boyfriend replies with a lazy drawl. 

It’s probably lost in the abyss of lopsided couch cushions after a rowdy game of beer pong hours before. A bag of pretzels and red solo cups containing half-drunk beer still line the coffee table. Crushed potato chips litter the carpet. That’ll be a joy for everyone to clean in the morning, but everywhere needs to be spotless if you want to get the deposit for this rental back.  

You whine, cuddling your face into Jake’s warm neck after another cringy gunfight sequence. “If another car catches fire, I’m going to scream.”

He chuckles, his chest vibrating in amusement. The sensation is soothing against your palm. “That might be a little upsetting to the drunk crowd upstairs.” 

“Then that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

Pilots are a competitive bunch and have a habit of carrying that tendency into every facet of their lives. So when Mickey and Rueben introduced the beer pong as tonight’s game, it wasn’t your garden variety high school drinking contest. This one involved spinning, slapping yourself on the face twice, and throwing the ball with your eyes closed. Easy stuff. 

The result was three twelve packs emptied and two Patron bottles demolished. Another thing pilots loved doing was drinking. You, as a civilian, had a very weak liver compared to them. That meant you slinked off to the couch to sober up after two beers until Jake came to join you once everyone drank enough to lose their footing.    

“Yeah, I still need them to like me,” you say. 

“They like you just fine,” He assures, stroking your arm. 

Jake convinced you to tag along on the team’s vacation to Monterey, where they all pitched in to rent a beach house. They’d gotten a month’s leave and weren’t sick of each other’s faces yet, opting to enjoy a week at the beach together. Your hesitation came from the fact that you were the odd man out. 

You work on the base as a civilian instructor after a stint with the DOD. It was a more straightforward assignment when compared to managing the stiff-necked generals in the Pentagon whose intimidating gazes never got easier to endure. Here, you had a few pompous pilots sneer at the idea of being taught by a civilian, but it was nothing too challenging. 

Admiral Simpson treated you with respect despite his rigid demeanor and the other instructors didn’t take your suggestions and calculations as background noise to be changed at will. 

“They probably like you more than me,” Jake adds. 

You roll your eyes. “Stop that, they do not.”

The squad welcomed you warmly. Their bond was firm, forged in the heat of the daring mission that earned them acclaim, the details of which you’d gotten in a redacted report. You were accommodated and included in a way that went beyond being Hangman’s girlfriend. 

“No, I’m pretty sure Phoenix wouldn’t mind if you became her wingman instead,” he grins. 

“Phoenix is a babe, but I prefer calculating the trajectory of an F-18 instead of being in one, so I’ll pass.”

“Thanks for saving my job, babe,” he winks.

You kiss the corner of his mouth, helpless to the creeping affection in your voice. “Anytime.” 

A loud snore suddenly erupts on the couch to your right, startling you. You peek sideways to see Rooster draped over it, arm over his face, lying on his back. His gray t-shirt is ridden up, exposing a patch of his tanned torso, rising and falling with each subsequent exhale. He must have fallen asleep a while ago, but you don’t remember seeing him stumble over there. 

Jake caresses the nape of your neck. “I do not miss sharing a bunk with that guy. He sounds like a fucking train engine.”  

“He’s tired,” you reason. Bradley did down three shots in a row without slowing down, despite winning each shot he made during the game. “Do you think that couch is comfortable enough for his back?”

“He’s fine. He’s had worse before on deployment,” Jake dismisses.  

Your eyes narrow. “That’s no excuse.” 

Ltd. Bradley Bradshaw was a gentleman, and you’d gotten along before you even started dating Jake. Your interactions were shallow since an active squad member didn’t have too much professional intersection with an instructor, but a step above necessary cordialness. He brought you coffee more than once from the mess hall when you spent late nights in your office and chatted a few times about being a new implant to the West Coast. Some might christen your interactions as a tentative friendship. 

Once or twice, you’d suspected that he was going to ask you out, but nothing of the sort ever happened. There’s no denying that a hint of disappointment stung, but some things weren’t meant to be. 

Not long after that, Jake got transferred back to the Dagger squad after a brief stint in Nevada and asked you out within one week of your first meeting. Saying yes is a choice you’ve not come close to regretting for the last six months. 

“Fucking relax, will you? These cushions are softer than a bunny’s ass.” Your boyfriend smacks it repeatedly for good measure. “See?”

You grace Bradley’s slumbering figure with one more concerned look. “Fine.”

“Look at you mother henning little Rooster,” Jake coos, ignoring the playful swat to his shoulder. “I’d be jealous if I didn’t know any better.” but he knows better. 

“I’m just being nice.” You lay your head back against the couch and extend one of your legs over his lap in a half straddle. “That’s why your teammates like me more.”

“Way to rub it in, babe.”

Another few minutes of silence follow as the awful movie continues. The plot is lost on you, not that you care, but boredom makes your mind attempt to follow the rest of it. Not long after, you sense the familiar weight of those blue-green eyes raking over you in interest. You ignore it but a thrill simmers beneath your skin and you keep your vision on the terrible movie, pretending not to notice. Jake shifts closer to you, nuzzling the back of your ear. Your toes wiggle in delight beneath the soft blanket that envelopes the two of you. 

You clear your throat silently, forcing your eyes to remain on the screen, but the awareness of what’s coming builds heat in your nether region.  

“What?” you ask. 

“Nothing.” He continues to kiss your neck in slow, lazy patterns. His hand is beneath the blanket on your bare thighs, teasing against the edge of your shorts. His thumb is dangerously close to your zipper. A sharp exhale escapes your pursed lips. 

“You ok?” Jake asks with a smirk.

 You say nothing but arch your back against the hand now unzipping your shorts. He pulls it down, reaching inside where heated skin awaits, aching for relief. His fingers dance over your underwear but pull away before any real action begins. 

“What you are doing?” you try to mask your building frustration, but a slight whine accompanies your question.  

“Just wanna touch my girlfriend. My gorgeous, fucking unbelievable girlfriend.” He speaks the words in a reverent whisper as he palms your breast. Heat engulfs your neck and ascends. You’re still getting used to this. Still getting used to being treated like the most valuable and desirable thing in existence by this man. None of your previous relationships come close with exes doing the hardhearted minimum and flings, leaving you more hollow than satisfied. It still blew your mind to be wanted like this. 

Your first impression of Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin gave no hint of it. He met you on the way to the Admiral’s office with a larger-than-life swagger and cocky smile you knew earned him more affirmations than rejections. But the side of him you know now fills you with gratitude. 

“I want to eat your pussy, babe.” He whispers, hot breath against your neck, making you shudder. The blanket has slipped from his lap and one side dangles from the couch to graze the carpeted floor. Oh, you want this, you want this very much. 

Sex with Jake is a revelation. There’s the assumption that arrogant show-offs must overcompensate for a lack of something, but that doesn’t apply to Jake. He puts his money where his mouth is, so you’re more satisfied than you’ve ever been in your entire life. There’s no time or place you could ever not want to jump his bones, present time included.  

Your eye flits to the sleeping man with caution. 

“He sleeps like the dead,” Jake assures as if he can read your mind. 

Going upstairs is a better option for complete privacy but your desire addled mind is too eager for Jake’s mouth on you. Plus, Bradley looks out of it. 

Either way, the decision is out of your hands when Jake gets off the couch and yanks the rest of the blanket from your heated body. He gets on his knees, running his smooth callused palms over your thighs then inching upward to drag your shorts and underwear off. You arch up to aid him until he divests your clothing, then your thighs part in muscle memory, exposing your aroused cunt to his approving gaze. Anticipation hovers over your thoughts as he guides your thighs over his shoulders, gripping your hips with enough force to keep you steady but not cause discomfort. Chapped lips peck the inside of your thighs, sending a wave of goosebumps throughout your entire body. 

Your bottom lip gets caught between your incisors as he noses your labia, muttering to himself. Small heated pants escape your lips, then convert to a full moan once Jake laps your pussy with a long stripe. 

“Fuck.” Your hands reach for the roots of his hair, tugging to enforce control you don’t have. The intensity increases with each tortuous stroke, making your hips buck forward in desperation. A mixture of your slick and Jake’s saliva slides down your inner thigh, dripping onto the couch. Tomorrow there’ll be time to worry about it, but for now, you are focused on nothing more than a sweet release.  

Jake devours you with an enthusiasm borne from greed. He sucks your clit, making you clutch a throw pillow with enough force to tear. All your nerve endings are alive, thrumming with intense pleasure as you’ve never felt before. His name tumbles from your lips in soft cries begging him for more while forgetting the words to do so because it just feels so good. 

Two fingers slip in aided by the generous wetness and curl up to tease your G-spot. That makes your mouth open in a silent scream as your hips squirm in desperation. Jake makes obscene noises as his fingers pump in and out, accompanied by the heavy flick of his tongue on your clit. 

“I’ll never tire of this,” he pants, pulling away for a break and then reattaching that wicked mouth back where it belongs. It’s too much. Your eyes squeeze shut, surrendering to the rollercoaster of sensations you’re subjected to. The release you seek is so close you can taste the tartness on your tongue. Your eyes open and the grip on Jake’s hair tightens. That white-hot cascade is about to envelop you when a pair of confused brown eyes catch yours and mild horror overcomes you. 

Bradley is still laying down but there’s no mistaking that he’s wide awake. His eyes catch yours and you see the confusion turn into realization. Panic seeps in, but your encroaching ecstasy overpowers it, leaving the sensible alarm you’re supposed to blurt to the man buried between your legs null. Jake is none the wiser. 

To your surprise, Bradley says nothing either. The shame you expect to come like a tidal wave is nowhere to be found. Instead, you’re focused on his reaction.   

He’s perfectly still, observing, and silent. It’s too far to be certain of, but you notice an appreciative glint in his studious expression. A minuscule flare of pride pulses within you. Perhaps some buried attention-seeking tendency of yours has awakened. 

Then you bite your bottom lip, taken aback when Jake gives a vicious flick with his heavenly tongue and cum hard, legs shaking like a truck engine. It’s so good you black out for a few seconds, returning to reality when Jake glides up and kisses you with slick stained lips. 

“That good?” he asks. 

You nod. “So good.”

From the corner of your eye, you brave a look. Bradley’s eyes are closed once more, back to slumber, but your heart still pounds like a hammer within your ribcage. For a brief moment, you wonder if you imagined getting caught by him.   

“Let’s finish this upstairs, shall we?” Jake says huskily. 

You breathe. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

He lifts you off the couch, urging your bare thighs to wrap around his torso. You bury your face in his neck inhaling the grounding scent of his sandalwood cologne as he carries you to your assigned bedroom. 

The next morning during breakfast with the group, your eyes dart at Bradley every few seconds, eager for any reaction to know where you stand. He gives nothing away, acting like he didn’t witness you getting your pussy eaten within an inch of your life. Part of you wonders if it was a dream or the result of an overactive imagination, but the denial does no good. 

You know what you saw and, most importantly, know what he saw. 

“I love watching that big brain of yours buzz around.” Jake kisses your knuckles as you absently reach for a packet of sweetener. “Something on your mind, sweetheart?”

“Nothing,” you dismiss with a smile. 

Bradley doesn’t look in your direction, focused on his own meal of toast and eggs. You take a nervous bite of your bagel. You didn’t tell Jake about what happened last night, uncertain of his reaction. He and Bradley had a strange rivalry that was mostly teasing, but you could tell contained an unspoken history. Natasha informed you it was worse in their TOPGUN days but simmered down into serene cordiality, to everyone’s relief. 

Still, you weren’t sure how he’d take the knowledge that his teammate and sometimes friend watched him eat you out without a word. And worse, you let it happen.   

Jake kisses your hand again, making your thoughts fuzzy. His pecks trail up to your elbow, making you giggle with delight and embarrassment. “Babe!”

“Hangman, some of us are eating here,” Phoenix chides, spooning herself some yogurt. “Maul her in your own time, please.”

All your boyfriend does is smirk shamelessly, placing an arm around your shoulder. “It’s not my fault that my girlfriend is too good not to eat.”

“Jake,” you groan. 

“It’s still weird to see Hangman being all lovey-dovey. No offense, Doc,” Mickey pipes up. 

“None taken,” you reply. They’d taken to calling you Doc since you had a Ph.D. in Applied Physics and treated it like an unofficial callsign. 

“Guess all it took was the right person to bring it out of him,” Javy remarks with a knowing look. Your entire face feels warm from the insinuation. It had been a few months, but you were certain your feelings skewed past the infatuation phase and Jake certainly made you believe he did, too. 

“I guess I’m a lucky woman,” you state, intertwining your fingers with Jake’s. He kisses your cheek in reply. 

“Nah,” Bradley interjects, to your surprise. Everyone turns to him. It’s the first thing he’s said all morning. “I’d say Hangman’s the lucky one. Doc’s one of a kind.” 

“I can’t believe I agree with Rooster for once!” Jake groans like a diva. 

“Man’s not wrong. I don’t know how she puts up with you,” Natasha says. 

Amidst the chatter, Bradley winks in your direction, eyes shining with a glimmer only you can interpret. 

Your mouth dries out.

[lemonbarnes]

Reality Bites: Cruel Summer (1/5)

Summary: You know what'll cure you from thinking about the aliens infesting Hawkins, a quickie with Billy.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Warnings: Language. Smut. Underage smoking. Mild violence.

Word Count: 4k

A/N: First chappie is out. I highly recommend listening to the playlist linked here. AND! If you want to read about Peach, @geminimoonbeamx drops her Steve Harrington x Reader tomorrow.

Summer of '85. Two months until Purdue.

Starcourt Mall's parking lot is seconds away from experiencing a grade-A meltdown unlike what it's ever seen.

“You're like, really freaking out on me right now,” Peach says. She takes a mighty large toke off her spliff. Indica over Sativa. Even during your first break at work. “Hit this, babe, and chill out.”

Your heart's jackhammering inside your chest and though the idea of weed calming you down is possible, you don't want to risk the panic attack it could induce. To top it off, the stupid collar of your work smock is becoming a noose, siphoning your ability to breathe. How the hell are you supposed to calm down when you can't even breathe properly? “I'm gonna rip this fucking shirt off.”

“Because what you really need right now is to sit behind bars for flashing your jailbait tits in the middle of a mall's parking lot.”

“How are you not freaking out? Did last night not happen to the both of us?”

Peach offers you a hit of her spliff to which you decline. She pouts, snuffing out its lit end and tossing it into your glove compartment. You wonder how she can be so picture-perfect and easily unaffected as she reaches for some eye drops. Clearly, she's a pro at this, ridding her red eyes without damaging the eyeliner on her lower lash line.

“Calm down,” she says, spraying you with a mist of her perfume. You inhale as best you can, letting the smell of ripe fruit and blooming flowers work its magic. “We hit a dog.”

Last Night

Dig into the scene. It's ten minutes past midnight and the vibes are stellar. Smoke is hanging love and heavy in the closed-up Jeep hitting 65 in a 35 zone. Between you and Peach, your BFFFF (best-friend-for-fucking-ever) a freshly rolled joint is passed between you both. And when you're not puff-puffing on Indiana's Finest, courtesy of the local Freakshow, you're taking a large swig of a Pina Colada smoothie courtesy of Orange Julius.

When Doves Cry is reverberating off the car's doors, humming along your spine as you sing along to the best of your ability. Peach is doing far better than you as she sips her Scoops Ahoy milkshake.

“You've been hanging out a lot at Scoops,” you giggle. You know she's not gonna play nice with her response.

“Shut up,” she says on cue, passing you the nearly finished joint. “I like ice cream.”

“Uh-huh.” You idly take a hit. “I'm sure it tastes good when you swallow.”

The comment is unexpected for you both. Dirty talk is unusual for you and the quick taunt takes Peach aback. Pistach-Ahoy, as cute as the name is, is thick, and when lodged in windpipes it's fucking deadly. That's when it happens. The mood killer, known to appear when things are too good to be true. Your friend is choking and you're trying your best to aid her with a swipe of your hand to her back. It's not working.

The situation is moving so quickly, it’s out of control for the both of you. Cue the moment when things are past the point of no return. Bang. The car jerks to a stop and inertia yanks you with it. Thank god Peach listened to you gripe about the importance of seatbelts. Had it not been for the grey holster locking in place, both of you would be eating pavement right now.

“Shit shit shit shit shit,” Peach breaks the silence, choking miraculously cured. Hazy smoke blinds you both. Whatever the wreckage is, you're not sure how major or how little, the suspense hangs. “Elliot is gonna freak.”

“You're dead.”

“We,” she says, “if there is a funeral it'll be for two.”

“Should we-” You've never been in a situation like this. No option sounds best when you run them through your mind. “Should we go out there and check it out?”

Peach's eyes are big, frightened. She's always had a big personality, it's why you love her so much, but you've never seen her scared. Not like this. Her hands cover her mouth. “I-I didn't see anything when I was driving. I don't know where it-”

“Let's go out and check.”

“What happens if I killed it? What if it's dead?”

Fear is funny, you usually have an answer for everything. Not this time. The only certainty you're left with is that you have to see if she hit a person. You have to know. With shaky hands, you're undoing your seatbelt and opening the door.

“Thirty seconds max,” you say, not bothering to close the door behind you.

You hear Peach's door open quickly after and her feet crunch beneath the gravel road. Richmond Road is an isolated street on the outskirts of Hawkins. The city never bothered to care for the many potholes, so it's kind of a no man's land. You suck in a breath, realizing just how alone you both are.

“Be careful,” she whispers. She tiptoes around the back of her car to meet your side. It's better to do this together.

Fumes slither from the Jeep's damaged hood. Carbon monoxide, nitrogen oxide, pretty much all the oxides you can think of. It's acrid. Tangy and metallic. You cover your nose with your sweatshirt and trek closer to see the damage. Peach follows suit.

“What is it-”

“Shh!”

The interior lights in the car are the only bit of light on the otherwise pitch-black street. Since no one takes this street, the city didn't care about properly lighting it. It's why you both can smoke and not worry about getting caught. But now, it makes your stomach churn. That means it's just you, Peach, and whatever the hell it is laying on its side a few feet from you.

Your eyes squint and try to make out what it is. Despite your friend's silent protest, you inch a little closer. Whatever you hit, it's nothing you've ever seen before.

It's lithe, with more muscle than anything else. Does it even have skin? It looks reptilian, covered in a stretch of scales. It's coated in something. Glistening. A filtrate maybe? Mucus? Like a snail or amphibian. In all your time spent nose deep in biology and taxonomy, something like this has never hit your retinas.

“Is it dead?” Peach's voice hits your ear.

You shake your head with a silent answer. No.

Her fingers grab your sleeve as you try to inch closer. “Then what are we still doing here? Let's bail!”

But you can't. Don't want to at least. Because whatever this is at your feet, it's making your brain twitch. This isn't a normal organism. Not from Ear-

It screeches. Loud and violently. The bones of its face aren't actually bones at all and open like a venus fly trap to produce the warning.

In this moment, you can't tell who's screaming louder, that thing, you, or Peach. With strength you've never felt, she whips your body away from the creature and hightails it to the driver's seat. Feet kicking up dirt and gravel, you follow suit and hop into the passenger side. You click the locks in place. Then again. And three more times just to make sure.

She turns her keys and luck is on your side tonight, it starts. You don't give a shit if she hits the alien again, you only care if you both escape alive.

“A xenomorph.”

“I'm just gonna pretend like I know what you're talking about,” Peach says, she's perfecting her pink lipgloss in the mirror of your sun visor. She's gorg. Living her best Madonna-esque life. “We hit a xenothingie okay? So what? The point you're missing is that no one knows. So let's be cool about this.”

“If you knew what a Xenomorph is, you wouldn't be-” your words die once you hear it. It. The hair-raising shredding of White Snake. Tires screech, filling a spot. Instantly, you know who it belongs to.

“Oh, I get it. Weed won't stop you from overthinking,” Peach says, pinching your cheek. “But trailer trash? That'll do it.”

It's not that you were overthinking, per se, it’s just that now you’re putting a pin in your thoughts.

“Can you be nice to him for like five seconds? Would that kill you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Shut up.” You slap her hand. “Do I look okay?”

“For someone who ran over an alien? Yeah, you look good.”

“I'm serious!”

“You're a babe. Always need an answer for something, but a babe. I'll tell Jimmy you took an extended break. If you ever learn anything from me and my wealth of knowledge, cramps are the best excuse to get out of something. Men get grossed out and don't press, women understand what that means. And right now, yours are a real bitch.” Peach, like the good friend she is, has your back. “Use a rubber.”

The jitters. That's all you're left with when Peach leaves. School girl butterflies. You know better. Your brain does at least, but your heart still hasn't gotten the memo. You reach for Peach's perfume, hoping she doesn't mind that you spray yourself a few times with it. Did she take her, fuck, she did! She took her lipgloss. Do you have any of your own like a normal eighteen-year-old would? No. All you have are the fucking lip smackers you bought Erica as a birthday gift on the floor of your backseat.

Pink lemonade it is.

Blegh. If Peach is living in a material world and she’s a material girl... you didn't feel a part of the world at all. More like detached and subdivided in the mass production zone. A mad world. But what happens when the outcast turns the other cheek in favor of popularity? Is it even possible?

You quickly give yourself a once over. You don't know what you're supposed to be looking for or what you’re even supposed to see, but you don't see it. That thing. Other girls have it, Peach and her friends have it, but the image in the mirror doesn’t. Something womanly, flirty. Why’d that trait skip you? 

You get out of the car, blowing away your nerves. Get real, they're still there. Don't pay any attention to them! You have to appear nonchalant. Cool. Effortlessly like how Peach coached you. Stomach in, tits out.

Don't look his way. Don't look his way. Don't look his way.

You do. Nerd. Your eyes cross the sea of parked cars and land on the blue '79 Camaro. Billy Hargrove's eyes lock with you. He's already been staring and there's a throbbing beat that makes you girlishly look away. The damage is already done. A sticky undercurrent without a name drips between you. The sound of his car door shutting makes your heartbeat quicker. He calls your name, you bite your lip. He’s got you.

Slowing your steps, you wait for him to meet your side.

“Stood me up last night,” he says. His arm wraps around your shoulder and without any coaxing, you're attached at the hip. It's not like you mind. Quite the opposite really. Snuggling deeper into his jean jacket-clad body, you both start towards the mall. “You playing some kinda game with me, Sinclair?”

“Something came up.”

“Yeah, sure it did. Suddenly Hawkins' star pupil has a nightlife.” he laughs dryly.

“Maybe I do.”

With the magical opening of Starcourt's automatic doors, you're walking through the first floor from the Eastern Entrance. Corndog on a Stick overwhelms the grounds. Women chatter about nothing as their husbands gripe about when they’re leaving. Kids ranging of all ages run amuck unattended. This isn’t a mall at all. You're in the jungle.

“Here's the thing. I don't wait. Not for you, not for anyone. Last I checked this-” With deft fingers and lightning speed, he sneakily gropes your right breast over the pink stitching of your work smock that spells Sam Goody. A squeal of a giggle erupts out of you. Your cheeks are so burning hot, that you’re sure there’s smoke emanating from you. 

Don’t try to deny the thoughts in your head. You want him to do it again. More than just a grab. You should tell him. 

“Billy! My family may be around.”

Loser.

“Last I checked, this is because you asked for it. I'm doing you a favor. Remember?” His fingers strum to a beat only he hears. It doesn't match I Think We're Alone Now playing from hidden speakers. “Like a virgin-”

“Screw you!”

“-touched for the very first time.”

Maybe your life is like a Madonna song?

In a way, he's right. Billy is something like a science experiment to you. Chemistry, if you will. A final goodbye to Hawkins before heading to Purdue and starting a new name for yourself. Did you want to enter college the same repressed woman you were in high school? Hell no. The old you didn't go on dates or know what the taste of alcohol was like. Nor was she the object of anyone's desire. That's where Billy comes in. He can help with your metamorphosis. All the things you want - a social life, a love life, to be wild, he passes with honors.

The idea is simple, you two sleep together, no pretenses, and you can forgo those “little girl” nerves you have about remaining socially inept.

But in a way, Billy's also dead wrong. You're doing him the favor.

“Your calculations aren't adding up,” you say. You must sound so clinical to someone as fiery as him. “The first time was because I asked for it. The second time was mutual. And if memory serves me correctly, you couldn't deliver. You were experiencing... what did you call it? Technical Difficulties?”

Or to put it plainly, he couldn't get it up. Too drunk to function. You dropped him off at Tommy's, because the Hargrove household is off-limits, and cried to Peach about it.

“Because it was,” he grits, finger slipping beneath your shirt. “You promised you wouldn't bring that up.”

“Oops, someone between us had to get something up,” you sigh. You hope Peach is proud of you. You can hear her voice in your ear, coaching you. Men liked the elusive. Hot and cold. Keep them on their toes. Or so she and those dating books say. “Last night was to soothe your ego. Maybe I wasn't in the mood to soothe it. Maybe you had to self-soothe.”

“Keep it up, virgin, well. Not really. Not anymore.” he says, “Keep it up, and I'll call this entire thing off. Got that?”

Pain shoots against the side of your upper hip that Billy's fingers once caress. You push away, Nike's squeaking against tiled floors. The radiating pain still persists where his fingers pinched you. A shove to his shoulder only prompts laughter from him.

“You're a jackass.”

“Nobody ditches me,” he chides. It's supposed to be serious. A warning that should have a bite to it, but all you can think about, inches apart from him, is if he'd appreciate the way your lips tasted. “Especially not someone like you. The lowest on the social hierarchy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Finally, something the brainiac doesn’t know.”

There are cruel words curling around your pink lemonade-scented lips. Steely and viper-like. You've spent enough time with Peach – a cheerleader with a vicious group of catty friends – by proxy alone you know how to hit someone where it hurts. If he wants to flirt-fight next to the Gap, you can do just that.

Nah. It's too expected. To play into his hand is to feed his ego. Instead, you remain chill.

“Then call it off,” you say with a breezy smile. As if the last week meant nothing to you at all. It's the very last thing you want him to do, but you have to test the waters. You're not some pity fuck, and you have to let him know you don't care either way. Just because he “took” your virginity, doesn't mean he has all the power. “Catch ya later, pool boy.”

You turn, and you even get a few good steps away from him, but do you actually think you're about to clock back into work? Do you think Billy Hargrove is going to let you beat him? No. He grabs you, strong hands pushing into the skin of your forearm like he's checking for a pulse, and he doesn't let you go. Instead, he’s pulling you in a direction far far away from Sam Goody.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere quiet.”

“My fifteen-minute break was over thirty minutes ago. Getting fired would turn this into a bummer of a Summer.” 

“Jesus, are you always such a stick in the mud? You wanna hang with me, Sinclair, we gotta loosen you up. Now trust me. You’ll like where we’re going.” 

You ask a million and one questions and they get more and more repetitive when he doesn't answer. Billy just pulls you somewhere secluded. He knows this mall and all its hidden intricacies as well as you do. Must be from breaking in when he's not supposed to be here. Turns out even he has his own hideout spots. He knows about the isolated men's dressing room in Burdine's that no one ever uses.

Why would he take you here? That's so stupid.

“I don't get it. Why-”

He on you. Lips, hands, teeth, everything all at once if pushed onto you like a storm. The stupid sentence you think is so important no longer matters. Why did you even care in the first place? You don't. Not when he's slipping his tongue in your mouth, capturing your moans and your lips.

“Why do you taste like lemonade?” 

“Ignore it.” 

It's a frenzy. A rush of giddiness you never knew existed. You toss your smock over your head like it's nothing and already you're surging with euphoria. The first time you were so nervous to expose yourself like this – timidly covering yourself. You want to, but know Billy won’t take kindly to it. He’d find a new spot to mark your body with a hickey. 

“Not wasting any time. I think you may be a closeted freak, Sinclair.” Billy says. He's unbuckling his Levis. Body on full display, you trace the flex of his toned abs he's spent so much time sculpting. The perfection of his body is marred. There’s a smudge on the chiseled marble in the form of a bluish hue just on the side of his ribs. A bruise. Wasn't there a week ago. 

Your eyes meet. His grin is wild. “They started it.”

“Let me guess, you ended it?” 

“God, you’re so smart.” He pulls you into his lap. It's a new position for you. The first and only time you had sex with him, he did most of the heavy lifting. This position, your back against his chest, both of you catching nasty gazes at each other through a mirror. This isn't something you've read about. Peach never told you about this. “Go gentle on me, I'm hurt.”

Guiding a condom on himself, Billy laughs in your ear. Is that a joke? Maybe he's being serious. You don't want to hurt him. What if you... break him as he's inside you. Can that even-

“Don't keep me waiting, Sinclair,” he yanks at the ends of your hair. “Come on.”

Ok. You've got this.

Wrapping a hand around him, he groans almost instantly. He did it the first time you touched him, too. Maybe he's sensitive, or maybe, you're good at this. Either way, it drives you insane. Your brain is always thinking, always moving, always processing, not right now. Right now is only about instinct and feelings. And fuck, does he make you feel good as you push down into him.

“Shit,” he hisses in your ear. “You teasing me? Keep going.”

“You said to be gentle!”

“It was a joke, fuck, come on.”

“Do I just like...bounce or do I swirl?”

“Pick one.”

The former it is. You lift yourself, just enough where til you feel almost empty and craving him. With a roll of your hips (who taught you that?) your push back on him. Hard. Testing the limits to see what you both like.

“Do that again for me,” he whispers in your ear. It's better than any straight-A report card, better than when you got your acceptance letter to Purdue. So you listen to him, heed the order, and do it again and again. Oh, and you do it again. Fingers digging into his knees, you hope you're not hurting him. The wall behind him thuds as his head falls back. “Ho-ly shit.”

The woman in the mirror is nothing like the one you stared at in the car. Not even close. You don’t know this woman, sliding up and down with no thoughts of stopping. He’s pulling this version of yourself out of you, along with every single gasp you’re heaving. 

He greets you with a thrust – totally unexpected – and a deep moan flies from your mouth. Instantly he catches it with the flat of his palm. Rough, hard, strong, he pulls your back against him. That hand against your mouth doesn’t leave. All you can do is ride the pleasure out.  

“Shit. Y’gotta stay quiet.” You're moaning a little too loudly and hadn't even noticed until he's grunting shushes against your ear. But it feels deliriously good. And his free hand is between your legs, rubbing circles until your mind is a puddle of ectoplasm. “Your family shops here remember?”

Asshole.

You don't think about Xenomorphs, or you shift at Sam Goody you're terribly late for. You only think of Billy. How you don’t want him to stop. How you wish you could vocalize anything at this moment to let him know you're at the brink of sanity about to plummet, coming strong into his hand. And how much you need a break from reality because reality bites, hard.

“An hour late. You must want to be fired.”

Your extremely late arrival is met with pimpled-faced rage when your boss, Jimmy, sees you return. He's all in your space, chewing you out with a candor that seriously doesn't match the fact that you work in a music store for minimum wage. He majorly needed to calm down. It's not that serious. Times two if he believes your period is out-of-control.

“I don't think you're Sam Goody material. And this is an official warning...”

His words become Charlie-Brown-Womp-Womp-Womps. You don't care. Typically you'd care, would care too much, but not now. Maybe that's the endorphins talking. 

A glance behind Jimmy's shoulder and you catch a look from your bestie. She's cheesing the shit out of you. Her index finger pushes in and out of the closed fist her other hand makes over and over. It's gross. You hate her for it. And would probably do the same if the shoe were on the other foot.

When the lecture concludes, you make your way to your rightful resting place. Behind the counter, working the register. Peach slides in beside you and opens her mouth.

“Don’t.” You cut her off. “Just shut up.”

[lemonbarnes]

Φ⌎ 𝟐. 𝐀𝐬 𝐇𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐬

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | dark alpha!fratboy!Steve Rogers x omega sorority!reader (dark A/B/O college AU)

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | DARK themes/elements, A/B/O dynamics, 6’6” Steve, mean!Steve, Ari (he’s a warning), manipulation, (little bit of) soft!DARK, misogyny (within A/B/O designations), major power imbalance, possessive & obsessive behaviour, assault, college party setting, alcohol, blackmail, sexual tension, scenting, asshole behaviour, implied violence, SMUT - minors DNI, non-con to dub-con, coercion, fingering (f), dirty talk, daddy kink, size difference, degradation, dumbification, punishment: spanking (hand, fraternity paddle), p*ssy slapping, squirting, some grinding (dry humping, thigh riding), (a hint of) dacryphilia, handjob/masturbation (m), panty sucking (?)

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | You get into Kappa Phi, but at what cost?

𝗪/𝗖 | 11.8K

𝗔/𝗡 | here we go ! 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! this is for my 6k celebration & sleepover ! come and join ! we introduce a bunch of characters in this part, and also answer some questions !! once again, I don’t know much about frats/sororities so I’m changing some things around for the sake of the story. all mistakes are my own. this is a dark fic, the warnings have been given—if you don’t like it, don’t read.

𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The bell above the glass door dings, your attention snapping to the front of the cafe as a pair of students walk in. Rain drips from their umbrella as they stand by the counter, and eventually fade into the background as your nerves settle.

“Steve doesn’t come here often, if that’s what you’re wondering.” The redhead across from you says, her eyebrow cocked as she pushes the paper bag towards you. “The croissants here are the best, it’s a family recipe.”

Admittedly, you are a little hungry. You woke up late for your lunch with Natasha after insistent yet confusing thoughts kept you up the whole night. It all started yesterday morning when you woke up to flowers at your door.

They were seemingly fresh and the sweet scent wafted through the hallway as you took them in. The arrangement clearly wasn’t from the local florist down the street, the bright green leaves and the white and pink coloured flowers all meticulously placed in the heavy white pot, finished with a red ribbon around the base.

The ones that caught your eyes were bright pink heart-shaped, the bleeding heart flowers already signifying something you’ve been avoiding—someone you’ve been avoiding. There was also a note attached:

‘Good morning, baby. I’ve been so busy with football and the pledges, I haven’t had the chance to stop by your dorm yet. I admit, I’m a little disappointed you haven’t answered my calls or texts, but I’ll let it slide considering hell week just ended. To celebrate, there’s a party tonight and I want to see you, I think you owe me. Oh, and welcome to Kappa Phi, legacy.’

Then when you checked your phone, among the sea of a familiar alphas messages was one from someone else:

Natasha R. from Kappa Phi: I have great news! Meet me for lunch?

It’s been a few days since you visited Arcadia, and Maria has put you and the rest of the pledges through the last stretch. Earlier in the week was the final test, a simple costume assignment where you needed to attend all of your classes in the said get-up. The only requirements were that it needed to be outlandish and represent school spirit. You and Wanda agreed to help each other out since you were only given a few hours’ notice. The two of you took a trip to gather heaps of feathers, paint and other supplies to create your homemade Howard College’s Mad Hawk mascot costumes.

It’s safe to say that both of you put in the most effort out of all the other pledge sisters—you didn't know what was on a certain alpha’s agenda and if you needed to make up for any potential defamation. Also, you were still finding feathers in your clothes.

“I know it’s a big decision to make right now, no rush but Maria will keep bugging you for an answer.” The beta starts on her lunch, a sandwich and a drink. “I figured this should be more casual since we haven’t told any of the other chosen girls.”

You slowly chew the croissant, Natasha was right, it was quite good. “How did you know I was looking for him?”

“Word travels fast between us and Arcadia. And, some pledge sisters have come forward about it.”

“Oh.” You look down as embarrassment burns in your stomach.

“Yeah, if I knew he was interested in you beforehand, I wouldn’t have let Maria make the deal with Ari. He’s no good.”

You can’t help but think that Steve had something to do with you being accepted, it was staring at you straight in the face and only got bolder the more you thought about it. Did he put in a good word with Maria, and did he acknowledge your encounter in his bedroom too?

Even if he didn’t, everyone already knew. There was no hiding from the truth, and it was that Steve might be the reason you’re sitting in this cafe right now, getting the offer you’ve been desperate for.

“Although, next to Ari, that guy could be a saint.”

“Really?” You find that a little hard to believe after experiencing the blond firsthand.

Similar to his fraternity brothers, Ari’s reputation revolved around notoriety, some hookups and entitled behaviour. You’ve noticed fewer people talk about him which led to fewer rumours about him. He was probably the biggest mystery of Arcadia and he seemed like every other alpha, but you hadn’t heard much about him—anything that you would believe anyway.

Natasha’s moto jacket reflects the lights of the establishment, the dangling buckles clatter to the table as she grabs your hand. “Be careful around them, okay? All of Arcadia, and especially Ari. He’s close friends with Steve, and obviously the president, but don’t go near him if you don’t have to.”

“Why?”

She offers you a tight-lipped smile. “It’s nothing you need to know.”

You only frown. The air changes from lighthearted to slightly tense, as the bell at the door rings again. Your eyes land on an older woman and a small dog shaking off the rain at her feet. The music hums softly from the speakers above the chatter, the soundtrack to your wandering thoughts about the fraternity president. Searching through your mind, you couldn’t find anything to be concerned about, maybe the rumoured fights and cheating—but as far as you know, he’s never had a stable relationship anyway.

Last year, you tried to stay out of drama and speculations. You’ve learnt that distancing yourself from your peers was the best way to not jeopardize yourself. Wanda was an exception, and you’ll always be thankful for her. But curiosity was going to eat you alive, and even worse, your imagination would paint the most frightening picture to fill in the blanks.

Across from you, Natasha eats her sandwich, munching slowly. “Have you tried the donuts? It’s another homemade recipe—”

“—Please, I want to know if…” you trail off, fearing if you speak it into existence, you’ll be forever bound to it and every trace of hope would slip from your grasp, “if Steve is going to keep me around. I need to be prepared.”

The moments drag on as people shuffle about the cafe. You almost think Natasha is going to leave but she leans close, her perfume wafts to your nose, a mixture of raspberry and rosewood with a hint of leather. “His family aren't as reputable as Steve and Ransom’s, they did some shady stuff,” she pauses, “actually, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I need to know.” You sit forward, holding her hand. “Please.”

Natasha sighs softly, a pensive expression on her face, “Ari isn’t from around here or anywhere close, his family moved here a few years ago, and unsurprisingly, he got into Arcadia on the first try. Then, he was the vice president before bumping up to president last year.” Her green eyes carefully observe your face, “you’ve heard of the programs around the world, right? For, uhm… people like you?”

Your heart sinks to the floor as you slowly nod, the back of your neck getting hot with every heavy exhale.

“He’s never confirmed it, but the local news covered it. His family ran a pretty notable one before trying to expand here. They got caught early on and rightfully detained, and they say Ari wasn’t involved.” Natasha scoffs quietly, “Not to mention they also had status, the best lawyers, and money to spare—whatever they did, Ari and his mother were let off without a charge. The last I heard of his dad, he’s sitting behind bars at a high-security prison a few cities away.”

“People don’t talk about his family, and only a handful of students know about this. You shouldn’t tell anyone either.” She glances around, the customers scattered around the room are minding their own business, sipping drinks or snacking on treats, all while you feel sick to your stomach. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Your heart thumps dully in your ears, every beat sounds vaguely like footsteps getting closer and closer—as if a monster is creeping inside your head. “He’ll hurt me?”

You mourn a few minutes ago when you didn’t know this, now you feel hyper-aware about the whispers you’ve never heard before, and the wary gazes that flew straight over your head. You were already weak as it is, belittled in the sea of harmful conceptions and desperately trying to seek refuge in a world designed to lift others up while putting omegas down.

Fear wraps around your throat, making your head hurt. Flooded with new information that will haunt you every time you think of Arcadia.

If there was someone you should be scared of, it was Ari who’s had firsthand experiences with the programs that degrade you to just a baby-making machine, cruelly objectifying you. You could only imagine the things he’s seen and how he views people like you.

“I’m not saying that he or that anyone else will, it’s just a warning—and I want you to stay safe.

Authorities have let him and every other alpha get away with the worst things, and I don’t want you to be on the receiving end on any of it.” Natasha’s green eyes slowly scan your body language, “He has no record and the administration just turned a blind eye. I wouldn’t be shocked if he paid his way through school.”

She’s right, and the weight on your shoulders gets heavier. She’s noticed the pedestal for alphas and thus, the mistreatment of betas, although not to the same extent as omegas. With concern clear on her face, she squeezes your hand.

“He doesn’t even know I exist.”

“Maybe he didn’t before but he does now.” Natasha’s phone rings but she ignores it, flipping it face down on the table. “I can handle my own, but you…”

“I can’t.” You finish. “I know.”

The redhead huffs, patting your hand, “God, I told Maria not to make the deal but—I’m sorry. We’ve always been close to Arcadia, they’re both presidents and Ari just intimidates her and everyone else on campus. She can’t just say no, regardless of how much she wants to.”

You know she didn’t mean to, but she was only scaring you more right now.

“I know we aren’t exactly at the top of the food chain, but we try to keep our omegas away from Arcadia, and it’s hard since Kappa is the sister sorority.” Her cell phone buzzes again and vibrates the table, “Which you want to join, right?”

Do you?

Accepting would place you right into their hands, then how could you escape them? Steve’s eyes flash in your mind, a mean gleam that blossoms into adoration—whether it was sincere or fake, you didn’t know.

Did you want to seal yourself into that box, and set yourself on the steps of Arcadia? Right under Ari’s nose, and give Steve another chance to touch you?

Natasha groans as her phone rings once more, this time she checks the contact. “Oh, sorry, it’s my mom calling.” She smiles small, “I miss one call in the morning and she loses her mind.”

A barely audible whine pushes from your throat but it’s drowned out by the sudden commotion as a group of students enter. You’re aware of your phone in your pocket, it seems like nothing but an expensive paperweight and you know your notifications are more dry than the desert.

“I will.”

Natasha’s gaze softens as a stand of red hair falls. She stares at you for what feels like hours, “Are you sure?”

“I want to.” Need, your brain corrects. “When is initiation?”

She opens her mouth to speak, but her cellphone blips. “Next week—and now Maria needs me.” She squeezes your hand before standing, she quickly gathers the mess and dumps it into a nearby garbage before turning to you again. Her red lips are pressed in a firm line, her shoulders stiff under her jacket. “I’ll tell her that you’re joining and we’ll meet up again to discuss you moving in.”

It takes you minutes to gather yourself and leave the cafe. It’s still raining so you quickly take out an umbrella and begin the journey back to your dorm.

As cars drive by, people huddle and duck away from the rainfall, the pattering surrounds you. The soothing sound wraps around your body as the puddles ripple with each drop.

It mocks you as it falls from the sky and collects in the dips and cracks of the concrete, disappearing among the rest of the rain. Overlooked and ignored.

Rain was made to fall, and you were too.

After living your life scrambling for crumbs of opportunities and recognition, this golden opportunity is placed in your lap. You won’t immediately be seen or heard by everyone, but your mother can’t ignore you now but neither can the alphas of Arcadia. One foot in Kappa was better than being just another forgotten soul.

A win-lose situation that could have more fear than love.

Years ago, the fall would be from a ledge an inch tall since omegas have always been the lowest of low. There was nothing to exceed because there was no bar, everything was foreordained without room to grow, to change. And now, it felt like you were hanging from a branch of a tree that kept growing,

Below you were greedy hands and hungry mouths, anticipating your downfall so they could rip you apart.

Although this chance sprouted dread, it bloomed flowers of hope to join the seedlings inside of you. Coloured soft, promising and optimistic, you wanted more—you needed more.

At this moment, you decided to keep climbing. Resilience can get a person far, you only hoped you were one of them because you’ll keep ascending until you couldn’t, or even worse, you fall into the ravenous crowd below—like a feast for them.

As you reach your dormitory, your phone beeps once then again:

Steve: I can’t wait to see you tonight, we have to make up for the lost time. Try to get here early so we can have alone time?

Wanda: Hey! They’re playing that new movie at the drive-in and there’s a hill on campus that allows a perfect view… I think we just need a radio?

The house is packed and booming with music from the designated dance floor in the basement. The floor is already littered with snacks, crushed cans and solo cups, along with a few spills on the freshly scrubbed floorboards. An array of smells cloud the air, from suffocating cologne and perfume to natural pheromones and scents.

People converse and laugh in the living room, leaning close with lingering touches and suggestive eyes. Some make out and grind against the walls, or obviously flirting by the game tables. Among the vibrating bass are occasional cheers from the beer pong or flip cup tables.

As for the older men of Arcadia, they’re more of silent observers who survey the betas and omegas like toys on a shelf. Students peek through the open door and windows, eager to experience one of the legendary parties of the fraternity but most are blatantly denied. The chosen bouncers for the night are strict for a reason, this party was for more than enjoyment and hooking up.

Steve is leaning against the bar in the kitchen, his huge body hunched over the counter as he invites the new pledges to a little game for tonight: add to the slut walk list on the wall.

“They can’t just be anyone.” Bucky rolls up his sleeves, looking pointedly at one of the young alphas, “They have to be from a sorority which means that you can’t just fuck anything with a hole, Colin.”

The light-haired man snorts, “Consider it done. I’ve already got my eye on one.”

Everyone turns across the room where a group of students have claimed a couch, they’re mostly girls and already comfortable with drinks in their hands. They’re all dressed up, leaning on each other and giggling. One omega, in particular, catches their gaze, timidly waving at Colin with a cute smile before looking away.

“Have you slept with her before?”

“No, but I’ve been flirting with her for a few weeks.”

Another voice speaks up, a tinge of a Louisiana twang, “If you’re hoping to date her—you’ve got another thing coming, man.” Sam slips beside Steve, bottle firmly in his grasp. “Omegas tend to get a little shy after their name is added to the list, although some wild ones come back for seconds.”

“Then, they get a little tick by their name. I think the highest is four or five, and that’s from the future lawyer over there.” Bucky points to Andy in the dining room with his arm swung over an omega’s shoulders as he speaks into her ear. His other hand slips up her skirt and the alphas watch her sink into his body, her hands weakly gripping his bicep and pulling him closer.

“Do we get judged on who it is? Looks, status, anything like that?”

“Nope, just a simple name and you win. Is that clear?”

Each of the pledges nods, most veering off to find their victim for the night, which should be easy considering the sheer amount of omegas on attendance tonight. Another reason why the bouncers were stern and given requirements for the majority of tonight's attendees: they have to look good, not have a sketchy reputation while also being somewhat popular, or in a sorority.

It isn’t hard to pick out the omegas from the crowd. Just like every other party that Arcadia has thrown, there’s an unspoken rule; the eldest and most valuable of the fraternity get first pick. Although, since the new pledges have an assignment, there are exceptions.

There was also a chance they’d have to call in a service to clean tomorrow, or Arcadia’s president could ask for a favour from their sister sorority.

“I can’t find the girl I was hoping to see.” Byrce huffs, impatiently tapping his fingers on the counter, “I’ll just look around then.”

“Good luck, newbie.” Bucky chuckles as he leaves. “How’s the old man, Ari?”

The president shrugs and his tone lowers to a rasp, hair falls over his eyes as he surveys the room. They linger on a girl by the beer pong table, “Complaining about communal showers and crappy food. Same shit. Who’s she?”

“One of the Kappa pledges, she looks fantastic in a maid uniform, by the way.”

“Name?”

“Don’t remember.”

“I saw her leaving Ransom’s room last week.”

“I’m not against sharing.” Ari smirks, “Speaking of that, I heard legacy put on quite the show… And I can’t say I’m not interested in the omega who smells just delectable.”

“She isn’t yours to share.” Steve glares.

The president steps close, tall stature leaning over the counter. Their blue eyes meet, his twinkle with mischief while Steve’s glow with a warning. “Until she wears a mark on her neck, she isn’t yours either.”

Steve growls, losing composure for a moment and crushing the empty solo cup in his hand. He knows Ari is taunting him, they were best friends after all. With you as the topic of conversation and the truth undisguised, he didn’t like it one bit.

Regardless if you were unclaimed, you were still his, and you’ve been his since he saw you at orientation. There was also a primal need to sink his teeth into your skin, eternally entwine your hearts, souls and minds.

He wants you and he is going to get you—he always gets what he wants.

“All right, chill out before we all choke on your testosterone.”

“Stevie knows I’m just joking—don’t you, blondie?” Ari grabs the back of Steve’s shirt, knocking their heads together, “Besides, if I wanted her, I would have had her by now.”

“Yeah but you haven’t seen her on her knees.” Curtis pipes, slyly rubbing a hand over his jeans. “She’s loud too—a little feisty but turns obedient and eager, you’d like her.”

“Well then, I suppose I’ll have to make up my mind tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah, say shit like that again and I’ll tell Bryce where you hide your stash.” Steve scoffs, shoving him off in favour of tossing the plastic cup aside.

Ari lets out a hearty laugh, “Then, you’ll be giving away our shared stash.”

“Small price to pay for you to shut up.”

Bucky steps in front of the vice president. “Where’s your girl anyway?”

Steve’s clear blue eyes lock on the entryway, carefully watching each student as they walk in or are denied. “She’ll be here.”

“Will she?” Ari raises a brow, dark hair falling over his eyes, “Is she going to put aside a whole night for you?”

“She doesn’t have a choice.”

Sam snorts, “of course, she doesn’t. That’s why Storm is getting her, right?”

“I always wondered which one of us would settle down first.” Curtis jested, gazing at the ceiling, “feels like just yesterday we were freshmen and moving into the house… I still wish I got the corner room.”

The blond cracks a smile, reminiscing on their early days filled with glory and praise—only a portion of the amount they have now. When they all first met, their connection was immediate and fit like puzzle pieces. Effortlessly complementary and each of them knows their friendship will last for years. They’ve come quite far together, and are worshipped wherever they go, rightfully so in their opinions.

“I could leave her if I want.”

“You have to have her to leave her.” Sam quips, nudging the vice president.

“And, I do.” Steve feeds into the friendly banter.

“Maybe you do but you aren’t going to do that.” Bucky knowingly adds. “I still remember when you first told me about her—the pretty girl who caught your eye yet looked right past you.”

The other alphas oh and ah, pushing Steve around before Sam roughhouses him into the next room. The rest follow as Steve is willingly stuck in a headlock.

“Stevie boy, why didn't you tell any of us you were going soft?” He teases in a high-pitched voice, eventually releasing the blond as they reach the area next to the stairs. The music is slightly louder here, but they have a clearer view of the rest of the house.

“The same reason why you’re best friends with the cheerleaders, mister-big-mouth. Can’t keep a secret for shit.”

Sam laughs, “Oh, you want to talk about secrets? Shall I call up the ladies and tell them about your crush?”

“And prove me right? Go ahead—”

“Hey, hey, calm down.” Ari swoops in, shouldering them apart, “You two are in major need of some release and tonight is just a person limit, so you both have your pick.”

Steve briefly considers making the next party an invite-only. It would save the trouble of a packed house and array of thirsty people, but as always, a fuller house meant more options. And Arcadia Phi was all about options.

They weren’t like every other frat, disregarding the alums and other qualities that made them the fraternity at Howard College, they were careful with campus rule-breaking. Especially for parties, they check suspicious people, watch everyone who comes in, and have gotten more selective about who is invited to the house. If anyone looks too drunk at the door, don’t let them in because while they let loose, Arcadia could absorb the blame for the mess and chaos, although legendary, they were cautious.

An omega walks past them, her gaze unabashedly dragging over his body and Steve just rolls his eyes. If he was feeling up for it, he’d swoop her up to the bathroom for a quick blowie then, maybe take her to his bedroom for more. Just another name on the list—or perhaps a tick, she looked a little familiar.

He’s longed for your warmth and watched you from afar, hungry and borderline obsessive. After he’s had a taste of you, his palate has changed drastically and he can’t have anyone else. That’d be settling, and Steve never settles for less.

She licks her lips, “Hey, Steve, I haven’t seen you since September.”

Definitely a tick, but he’d have to ask for her name again.

“Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to.” Steve glowers, “Move along, you reek like you just took the entire hockey team.”

The girl blinks in horror as his friends laugh aloud, some cockily waving goodbye as she skitters away.

“How about her? I heard she just transferred here.” Curtis nods to the small group by the flip cup table. “Although, I think she has a boyfriend.”

“Never stopped him before.” Bucky pops up and hands around fresh bottles of beer, “what do you say, punk? Up for the challenge?”

“I don’t want any of them.”

“That’s what you said last year after you learnt more about legacy—yet, you still had visitors.”

“I had my eye on her, I wasn’t celibate.” Steve scoffs, “You think my dick is going to stop working?”

“That’s what it seemed like.” Curtis replies, scratching his buzzed head, “You labelled her as off-limits too.”

“Because you’re all greedy animals.”

“We’ve got more class than that and wouldn’t dare to take your sweet crush away from you…” Sam ruffles Steve’s hair, “Wouldn’t want you to get all upset now.”

Steve never blatantly confessed his attraction to you—not to anyone outside of his friend group. The only people who knew were Bucky, Ari, and Curtis, but Ransom and Andy made their suspicions clear from the start. A comment here, or knowing look there, but they never said anything.

You check your bag, sifting through the dozens of snacks before opening your door. With your keyring hanging from your fingers, you almost bump right into another body. A young man is standing in front of your dorm with his hand raised.

He smiles before seeing your outfit. “You’re wearing that?” His blue eyes travel over your sweat pants and matching sweater, to your feet stuffed into an old pair of sneakers that you wouldn’t mind getting muddy.

You step back affronted, “Excuse me?”

“I mean, it’s okay but it doesn’t look like party material.” He wrinkles his nose, his brown jacket unzipped revealing a tight grey t-shirt tucked into the band of his jeans and shiny leather belt. His light-brown hair is on the shorter side, a buzzcut that contrasts his clean-shaven face. With built shoulders and a small waist, he’s an alpha judging by his size, posture and smell. Although, a faint linger of burnt firewood surrounds him. “Good thing Steve ordered these, you wouldn’t get on the property in that.”

At the mention of his name, your body reacts in fear and sickening desire—an odd mixture that scatters your thoughts.

You hold the door, inching it closed, “I’m not going.”

His palm lands on the wood with a loud slap, easily forcing it open until he steps into your room. He glances over your single dorm, from your messy desk and dresser to your unmade bed. “Cute sheets, legacy.” He chuckles at the ditsy floral print comforter and pillowcases, “I’m Johnny, by the way. Steve’s little brother.”

Irritation prickles along your skin, the ego radiating off of him was rivalling that of the vice president himself. You weren’t surprised they were close, but he didn’t intimidate you as much as Steve. That lack combined with your annoyance could be why you’re feeling confident enough to even talk back.

What would Steve think? A small voice whimpers.

Why does it matter, you counteract.

He presses the bag into your hands and turns around, “I’ll give you five minutes to get dressed. Then, we’ll head out. I rode my bike, so maybe grab a jacket or something.”

“I’m not going to the party.” You repeat, angry that Steve thinks he can send his brother to your dorm.

“I already have plans.”

Wanda was probably waiting outside right now and despite Natasha’s wishes, you were going to tell her about Ari and Arcadia. She’s your best friend and deserved to know, you’d grasp at any opportunity to keep her safe. You’ve spent too long with danger looming over your shoulder and you didn’t want her accidentally wandering too close to the cruel alphas.

Johnny is unfazed, lazily reaching into his pocket, “Uh, do you want me to call Steve?”

You frown, “For what? He can’t make me go, and neither can you.” Your heart stutters for a moment from the surge of courage. It’s almost too unfamiliar and you want to apologize for your attitude and speaking against an alpha—technically, two alphas.

It’s subconscious as your head lowers, your throat tightens as regret rushes in. You try to remind yourself there’s nothing to feel guilty about, although the rest of you refuse to listen and you feel mortified.

Fucking white noise, that’s all your demands are. You’ll never have an impact like an alpha, and if you try, you’ll be a complete fool. You already are one and you’ve been one since you said you weren’t going to the party.

“Are you sure about that?” The man hums thoughtfully, “Because something tells me that your friend still hasn’t been accepted to Kappa… I could be hearing things, I just came from the house and the music is always booming.”

“Wanda didn’t make it?” Just like that, you’re thrown in for a loop and your shame transforms into sadness, painting your heart blue.

“Nope.” Johnny pops the last syllable, “Someone else beat her by one vote but don’t worry, she can always try again next year, unlike you—and I almost forgot to congratulate you, legacy.” The alpha beams, “I hope you love Kappa as much as your new sisters, it’s been a while since they’ve accepted any omegas.”

“Ari, those betas are back again.”

The president sighs, briefly turning away from the omega he’s been talking to. “So get rid of them.”

Vague memories of two betas stumbling into the frat house come back, the heavy smell of alcohol on their breath and the most dazed look in their eyes. They were cut off during the last two parties and warned with being banned if they didn’t clean up their act, then they proceeded to puke everywhere and almost pass out. Tonight, they were fucking wasted before they even showed up and Arcadia wasn’t going to be responsible for any stupidity or alcohol poisoning.

“Hey, Langley! Got a task for you.” The president calls the younger alphas over, he slaps his shoulder and points to the front door, the betas hanging off each other, “You get them off the property, all right.”

Steve checks his watch once more, “Don’t know why you’d send him.”

Ari chuckles, following the girl upstairs, “that’s why.”

Bryce roughly shoves the betas out of the house, careless and obviously not trying to be gentle. There’s a distant cry and some shuffling before the front door shuts, and with that, the troubling betas are gone too.

“You can always count on him for being obnoxiously ruthless.” Curtis has his arm wrapped around another girl, eyes shut in bliss as she kisses up his neck.

Right now, it’s just them until Curtis takes the beta upstairs too. The rest of his friends have moved elsewhere while Steve stayed in direct view of the front door.

Steve feels a heat building in his stomach, anger and annoyance bubbling in his veins as the seconds tick by. Storm’s bike engine could easily be drowned out by the music.

He knows you’ll show up, you wouldn’t willingly let your friend be rejected from Kappa again when you can do something about it. He was positive about that.

Suddenly, there’s another commotion at the door, and as another group of people are denied. When they move, his heart swells in his chest.

The dress flutters as you step into the house, the music vibrates the floor from the basement as people talk and laugh loudly. Some spare a glance, others check you out.

You cling to your jacket that Johnny made you take off after hopping off his bike, the dress is practically lingerie. A slightly asymmetrical lace hem above your breasts, thin blue silk that brushes your upper thighs, and a cut-out that exposes more than what you’d like in a public setting. An inch higher, and you’d see the strap of your underwear.

The panties may be the worst. They weren’t like anything you owned and made your face heat up—skimpy and white, lace straps that were soft against your skin with barely any fabric for actual coverage. In this houseful of people, you feel naked. Bare without your consent but did you feel a little bit desirable?

You were still undetermined about that.

The students part like the ocean as Steve strides towards you, his 6’6” sturdy frame swaying with his broad shoulders as the light highlights his features. He’s dressed in a dark blue button up and black jeans, his blond hair styled. He grins, dimples appearing in his cheeks as he draws closer, his smell overpowering that of everyone else in the room.

“Sweet girl, I knew you’d look beautiful in this.” His warm hands land on your hips. “Fits good too, tight and loose in all the right places. Don’t you think so?”

You shrug him off, irritated and upset as Wanda’s dejected voice replays in your head. When you explained your situation with Johnny sifting through the knick-knacks on your desk, Wanda was downcast and split—she wanted to help, she begged to aid in any way, but you didn’t let her.

What could a beta do to an alpha, especially one as mean and high status as Steve with his friends right behind him?

Steve reaches for you again but you push him away. Then, he steps closer while you step back. You peer up at him fearfully with your back flat against the wall, the front door is open as a wisp blows, cooling the sudden heat on your skin. You can’t see anyone beyond Steve, with his looming stature and captive eye contact, you wouldn’t dare look away.

There was no doubt the Arcadia alphas would rip her to bits and make you watch as punishment. It was enough that you knew she didn’t get in and that guilt weighed heavy as she desperately tried to uplift the conversation with a mention of Kappa Phi—“I heard they have sleepovers every month, imagine it; the movies, the snacks, oh, the bonding! I can’t wait!” You kept that truth to yourself and had to cut the call short when Johnny impatiently tapped his wrist.

Now here you are, not even two minutes into the party and shoved up against the wall with the football captain inches from your face.

His jaw looks are sharper with the shadows, and the darkness bleeds into his eyes, painting a dangerous and threatening blue. “You want to do that again? I gave you this dress, don’t make me take it back right now.”

A whimper nearly crawls out of your throat but you swallow it down. “Please, no.”

Steve’s fingers trace your neck to cup your cheek, he leans close, the smell of beer in his breath. “Hush now, baby,” He coos, and cuts to the chase. His ring finger softly rubs your spot as his thigh slips between your legs, a direct replay of your last meeting. His scent clouds your mind once again, the grittiness fuels fantasies that you’ve kept hidden and tried to forget. This time, you attempt to fight it and fist his shirt, weakly pushing him away but just like the previous encounter, he doesn’t stir.

“That’s it.” He adds another digit, his other arm wrapping around your waist and pressing closer, the denim rubs against your inner thighs. “There’s my girl, you missed me, omega?”

You don’t answer and slightly turn your head as he kisses your cheek, soft pecks trailing to your mouth until he meets your lips. His growl vibrates his chest and you can feel it in yours, and subconsciously, you moan. The tentative nips turn into passionate strokes as he slips his tongue into your mouth, applying pressure to your gland and your haphazardly built defences crash to the ground.

Perhaps it was stupid to think you could keep him away—both physically, mentally and internally, because, in a way, Steve is woven deep inside you. Alpha and omega, two sides of a shiny coin, and you’ve fallen victim to your designation and his sick charm.

The realization only makes you more discouraged as you pull him closer. Under your dress, slick coats your panties and the scent wafts to Steve’s nose. He leans back with a grunt, a ravenous glow in his eyes as his muscular chest rises and falls in rhythm with yours.

“I seem to always have to repeat myself around you…” He trails off, voice gruff, “Did you miss me, omega?”

You whimper, shame filling your body as other people turn their heads. You want to run and hide as your scent flows through the air, desperation, arousal, with a tinge of fear.

“Yes, alpha.”

He growls appreciatively and noses the top of your head, soaking in your smell with every heavy inhale. If he could, he’d bathe in your existence until your beings were eternally entwined. Holding you with your warmth against him, Steve feels untouchable and utterly relaxed, there’s nothing like it.

He berates himself for waiting so long.

You don’t realize you’re trembling until Steve grips your waist and turns you towards the rest of the house. Just like that, the audience faces away and pretends they were never watching the exchange. You clench your fists, ducking down as the whispers inevitably start, you can’t hear them clearly but you know they’re there and somehow, that only makes it worse.

“Are you going to make be good and make me proud?”

Proud, somehow you do want him to be proud of you. “Yes, Steve.” You’re still dazed since he just scented you.

He brings you to the kitchen, easily lifting you and sitting you on the counter. The cool surface sends a wave of goosebumps over your skin as he grabs a drink and steps between your legs. You lean back slowly, trying to put distance between the two of you.

He holds the cup to your face, “want a sip?”

You look around and frown, “…I didn’t want to come here.”

He sets down the cup and pulls you to the edge of the counter. His thumb drags over your cheek, “But you missed me, omega” Steve says softly, blinking down at you with blue eyes, “Haven’t you thought about me every day? How good I made you feel here,” His touch ghosts your gland before trailing down the front of your dress, tugging at the lace hem before barely slipping up the slit. Now, your upper thigh is dangerously exposed.

Admittedly, you’ve tried to. You had every reason to not want him—desire his touch and presence but it was so hard to not think of him. You wanted him off of your skin and out of your mind but your attempts of pushing him out and away were feeble at best. You didn’t want to think about him, let alone, miss him.

You feared that deep down, it didn’t matter what you wanted because he’s already chosen you.

And perhaps, you’ve accepted and chosen him too.

“Was it just sex?” The words fly out of your mouth before you could think.

Steve stiffens, visibly caught off guard. “No. Of course, it wasn’t.”

He’s wanted you for a year but kept his distance for the sake of himself and maybe his girlfriend at the time. Like every other alpha, he’s possessive and thrives off ownership. He wants you to reciprocate his feelings, to want him like he wants you and be dependent on him like omegas should be to their alphas.

“I didn’t use you like that.” His tone is sickenly delicate, “I wouldn’t do that for our first time together, you wanted it and I was more than happy to help. Sure, I pushed you a little bit in the right direction, but it was more than just sex. And, I think you know that too.”

You don’t answer, and let him hold the cup to your mouth as you take a small sip.

He looks down at you, swiping the drop of alcohol from your lips. “I could be so good to you, sweetheart. But, don’t think you can talk back, I don’t take that shit lightly.” He pauses, “Actually, maybe do it so we can have a little fun. I have a few ideas to get you under control.”

Steve helps you down from the counter and holds out his arm, “Let’s go say hi to my other brothers, they’ve been waiting to formally meet you.”

“Who?”

“You know Bucky and Curtis, Ransom is around here somewhere.” The crowd parts as Steve leads you both deeper into the house, you try to face forward as dozens of eyes fall on you. Perhaps curious, jealous or downright disgusted, you didn’t want to know. “Nick and Sam live off-campus but always come by for parties, Thor was invited but who knows where the hell he is, and Ari got back today, you still haven’t met him—”

“—Steve!” Two young men call, waving their arms as they stand by the backdoor, “You’ve got a visitor. He’s uh, very adamant.”

“Give me a second!” He turns back to you, “can I trust you to stay with my friends while I go deal with this?”

You glance at the group of alphas by the beer pong table, red solo cups or bottles in their hands as they talk. From a few feet away, you can already feel the constricting force that surrounds them. You shake your head, clinging to Steve’s arm.

Pride flashes on his face, “I’ll be right back, then I won’t leave you for the rest of the night.“

It was a promise, but did you even want that? Perhaps he is better than anyone else in this house, than his brothers. As they say, ‘better the devil you know than the devil you don't know.’

“Go, sweet girl. I’ll be back before you know it.” He kisses your forehead before pushing you in the direction of his friends.

You stumble slightly, catching yourself on one of them.

“It’s nice to see you again, legacy.” Bucky smiles coyly, his eyebrows raised as you quickly right yourself. “I would say that I miss you in your little uniform, but this number is quite the treat.”

“You want something to drink?” Another alpha asks, his warm brown eyes meeting your gaze. “I’m Sam, by the way, and that’s Nick.” He points to the man participating in the party game and getting fawned over.

“You smoke, legacy?”

You shake your head silently.

These men are also on the football team, you’ve seen their photos but don’t know much about them besides their reputation that mirrored Steve’s. Entitled, selfish players with more omegas in their past than notches on their belts.

Time drags on a little longer. They ask you questions that you answer with a nod, shake of your head or shrug of your shoulders. You find yourself counting down the seconds before Steve returns, you never thought you’d prefer his company but compared to his brothers, you only hope he’d be better.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

That gets a reaction out of you, which is exactly what they wanted. “What?”

Before Steve, you hadn’t been on a date in a while. Maybe a few flings or partners, but nothing too serious. When you first got to Howard College, you dated around a little bit, probably slept with more people than others would think—but then, courses got harder, your schedule got tighter and you didn’t even realize your bed had been empty for far too long.

“H? Harvard guy?”

“Hayden isn’t my boyfriend. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Unbeknownst to you, there was one other person responsible for your dry spell. Although Steve kept his intentions in his inner circle, if he got word about someone interested in you, he’d send someone to take care of it. Nothing was ever exposed as most people who had you on their radar were responsible for other things, and a little blackmail went pretty far.

Curtis hums, “What’s Steve then?”

Heavy footsteps stomp down the stairs before a figure appears. At that moment with the low lighting, the alpha looks like a giant. A girl stumbles down after him, dishevelled with flushed cheeks and smelling like sweat. She buttons up her shirt and wipes the side of her mouth before walking away—limping away would be a better-suited term.

“You don’t waste any time, huh, Ari?”

“As my father always says, time is money.” The man turns as a series of chuckles sound around the group.

Ari has a similar build to Steve, muscular and domineering, maybe an inch taller with those boots on his feet. His flannel strains against his biceps, the red plaid complimenting his slightly tanned skin. His beard is full and thick, matching his long hair that curls at the base of his neck. His blue eyes carefully flicker down then return to your face.

“Steve’s favourite colour is blue.” He notes, thick fingers wrapped around the neck of the beer bottle as he takes a slow sip, “I can see why he chose that outfit for you.”

The underlying smell of sex radiates from him, along with a thick and earthly musk.

“So, he picked the whole thing?” His gaze drags over your body slowly, as if he’s tracing every inch of you in his brain for safekeeping. “How about underneath? You let him dress you up like a pretty doll, omega?”

Because that’s what you are, it goes unsaid but you hear it ringing in your ears. Of all people, that would be his mindset. Omegas are objects to be bought and sold, baby-making machines against their will. Bile rises in your throat before you force yourself to stop thinking about them, the people just like you, poor and disadvantaged souls trapped in a heinous system. On the foundation of pain and suffering is where Ari was raised and where he currently stands tall, and you despise him for it.

You just keep your lips shut, neck tensing as a million rageful responses implode your head.

Ari blinks, his tongue running over the edges of his sharp teeth. “I heard you’re a bit feisty. Care to give me something to think about tonight?” He steps closer as you stay firmly against the wall, heart pounding in your ears along with his deep, gravelly voice. “I’ve always loved a little fight, something to tear down only to rebuild into whatever I please… And omegas are perfect canvases for such a thing—potential for an ideal mate.”

Of course, he would, you bitterly think. With his family and past, he’s probably disgustingly bred some of your kind. You weep for them, but all you can offer is a deadly glare directed at the towering, built alpha.

“And, Steve thinks the same, sweetie, always have and always will.” He winks.

You keep your lips sealed.

The rest of the frat brothers continue their conversation as if you aren’t there. Only bringing you in for a little more teasing, but that grace period doesn’t last very long.

Curtis juts his chin, “What do you think about it? The list.”

You clench the full cup in your hand, not daring to spare a glance at the horrid whiteboard pinned on the wall. You didn’t want to read the names, the number of people subject to their heartless games. You didn’t want to give them the satisfaction, but like most things at Howard College, that hope didn’t work.

“Say something.” Ari cocks his head, “Are you going to make me use my voice and force you to open that pretty mouth?”

“Ari.” Bucky warns, “Steve won’t like that.”

“Steve doesn’t like a lot of things. Especially disobedient omegas.” He replies swiftly, “Give her one night with me, and she won’t breathe if you don’t tell her to.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen the girls leave your room. Practically moulded by your hands,” Sam nudges him, “He’s got a control thing, legacy.”

You look down at the cup, it doesn’t seem any different from theirs but you wish you watched him make it. You don’t trust anyone in this house. With their eyes watching you carefully, you fake a sip, licking your lips then you set it on the windowsill.

“I’m a little disappointed I missed the show last week. Maybe the next one could be filmed so that doesn’t happen again.”

That starts a whole discussion about certain tapes they’ve done. A few names fly around and confirm that they’ve been this disgusting forever. Their voices hammer into your head, vile and even sparking some fear. How they can just blatantly speak about intimate experiences was beyond you, like everything was a game and they were always on the leaderboard. You wanted to knock them where they stand. In their words, they’ve only done a few films with willing participants—do you even believe that?

“This one girl, definite pornstar material, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s in the business now—”

“—You’re all terrible.” You interrupt, unable to conceal your displeasure. “You make me sick.”

One of them winces, “Ouch, legacy, that really hurt.” Curtis pouts mockingly, “I’ll certainly change my ways in your favour, do you want me to kiss your shoes too?”

A big hand lands on your arm. “Don’t touch me.” You pry off his hold.

“Keep sweet talking me and I’ll just have to find out why Steve is so hooked on you,” Ari murmurs, leaning close.

Sam scoffs, “Yeah, and then, get your ass beat for it.”

“We haven’t shared anyone before, but we’ve talked about it. Care to be the first, legacy?”

You whip around to shove him with all your strength but he already steps away, half-empty bottle in hand as he announces his trip for a new round. You watch him leave with another alpha, Curtis winking at you as they turn the corner.

Then, a warmth ghosts up your back before pulling you into a strong chest, a familiar smokey scent crawls up your nose. “That was entertaining. You’re hot when you’re mad.”

Something catches your eye, Steve’s knuckles are red and a little purple, well on the way to a bruise. You look up at him as he chats to Bucky and Sam, he looks unharmed and his clothes are the same. Clean, smooth and clinging to his muscles, but his cheeks carry a soft flush.

Who was the visitor?

“She’s got quite the mouth, huh?” Sam chuckles as Steve firmly grasps your waist.

You stare at his hand, slowly reaching out to touch the battered skin. He doesn’t flinch, but he does look down at you, “What happened?”

“Someone who isn’t allowed here decided to come anyway.”

Unease settles in your body, “So, you beat them up?”

He smiles, “Is that what you think happened?”

“Your hand.”

Steve leans against the table with an outstretched hand. You don’t move from your spot and he clears his throat, gesturing you closer with a curl of his fingers. “Come to me, baby.”

It’s almost laughable how quickly you give in, but there wasn’t anything else you could do. You couldn’t just up and leave, not with his frat brothers stationed at every corner and him a few inches from you.

“You want to know who showed up?” He cups your face as his other arm wraps around your back, keeping you close, “It was some dick from another frat. Someone you don’t know, and I don’t think you want to know them anyway.”

He keeps the details to himself, including the name, the fraternity and the reason for their visit. You didn’t need to worry about that now.

“Why?” You press,“Not like anyone is worse than you.”

Steve raises his eyebrows in amusement, “You’re so blissfully ignorant, aren’t you? You may think I’m the worst that can happen to you, but I can assure you that I’m not.” His azure eyes pin you down, searing into your mind, “There are plenty of other people who aren’t as kind as me.”

“Kind?” You shove his hand and step backwards. “That’s bullshit.”

“Compared to what they’d do to you—I’m an angel.”

“Although, next to Ari, that guy could be a saint.”

Natasha wasn’t wrong.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” He took you away from Wanda, dressed you up like a doll and practically forces you into the Arcadia house yet again.

He grabs you, and your weak pushes are useless so you start swatting his chest, landing harder blows until one of your palms collides with his cheek. It wasn’t full force, but it was enough for his head to turn slightly, and his shoulders go rigid.

The music is still playing and vibrating the floor, but the air goes still, stale and awfully cold.

Bucky, Sam and everyone else stares at you and Steve, their bewildered expressions visible in the dimmed lights and with bottles and solo cups in hand and conversations paused as if they've just witnessed a crime.

Might as well be one with the despair solidifying in your veins, freezing you where you stand. Worst of all, your hand tingles with either guilt or fiery pride, you can’t tell the difference with your thoughts firing like canons.

What did you do?

Why did you do that?

You’re fucking screwed.

While you attempt to silence the guilty pleas in your head, Steve calmly smooths down his blue shirt, the wrinkles disappearing with a simple stroke of his hand. Then, his gaze meets yours. The colour is darker than normal, but eriely soothing, like a storm brewing in the ocean and you’re standing in the eye of it.

“Upstairs. Now.”

He wasn’t using his alpha voice, yet you feel the instinctual need to obey, although your feet are cemented to the floorboards.

“Don’t make me repeat myself—” He’s not quiet or loud, his volume is in between and slow like honey. “—again.”

You turn around, wrapping your arms around yourself. An overwhelming flood of shame, despair and hatred fills you—whether the hatred is directed towards yourself or Steve, you didn’t know.

As soon as you reach the stairs, the first wave of tears falls. They drip down your face as everyone watches, their laser gazes only intensify your rush of feelings.

Guilt is the most prevalent, it’s impossible to not feel at fault for making Steve upset. Being faced with an alphas disappointment was gut-wrenching, that was all you could call it. He didn’t seem angry, or vengeful, but entirely too calm and it made you full of self-blame.

Omegas are naturally caring and loving, submissive in other words. You, a sweet yet strong omega, were no match to your seemingly innate instinct. And, one of them was striving for approval, an alphas praise. That was also why you gave in so easily last time, Steve strummed all the right chords and made you sing for him.

And sing you did, and sing you will again.

You fear deep down you’ll start relying on his acceptance and commendation about yourself and things you’ve done, accomplishments and rightful acts in his eyes because his opinion and perspective will be all that matters. It will be above your own conceptions, and you’ll glorify him for it.

God, the things you’d do to have him compliment your nest. Or add to it.

You cry even harder because you don’t know why you’re thinking this way. He’s a nightmare on legs with an ego so big it reaches beyond the Andromeda galaxy.

You weren’t only scared, but you were ashamed and revolted by it.

He strides down the hallway and with every step, his biceps flex, firm feet sound off the floorboards as he pulls out his key. He reaches you and his shadow is painted on the wall, and you. He blinks down at you, then clicks open a bottle before holding it to your mouth. “Drink.”

You refuse, sniffling and wiping your nose.

“It’s only water and you’ll need it.” He presses it to your lips, “Now, omega. Unless you want more than what I have planned.”

You gulp down the water, it cools your heated skin and soothes those insistent nerves.

“That’s it. There’s daddy’s good girl, ” He pulls away from the bottle and wipes the bottom of your lip with his thumb, lingering there as he growls lowly, “see what happens when you let me be kind?”

Let him—as if any choices are your own anyway.

This time when you enter his room, you don’t get to observe it. After shutting the door, he grabs your face and turns you towards the display of paddles on the wall. “Don’t make me use one of those on you. I’ve done it before, and every time it ends in tears.” He squeezes your cheeks until your lips picker, “actually, maybe I should do that. I’ll let you pick one and take you downstairs, punish you in front of everyone and give them a show. Teach them how to tame a fiery little thing like you.”

“I’m sorry.” You apologize, voice muffled by his hold on your face. “Please—I don’t want to… Not in front of everyone.”

A thoughtful expression combs over his features, “But, I can’t let you go unpunished. You hit me, omega.”

“P-Please, Steve,” You whine, you couldn’t be punished in front of everyone, “I’m sorry.”

“Fine. Not in front of everyone—I can’t promise I’ll be as lenient next time.” Because he knows there will be another situation like this. “Pick one.”

“But you—”

“Pick one now or I’ll pick one for you, and I’ll choose one you haven’t seen because it isn’t a paddle, and I’ll do much worse than spanking.”

Your eyes dart to the headboard, the bars rid of any handcuffs. There were other toys around here somewhere, and you had a feeling that’s what Steve was referring to. You tentatively walk around his bed and observe the choices, through your teary vision, you point at the red, blue and white one. It had the least protruding letters, although Steve’s name was big and bold.

“Good girl, now take off your panties and bend over my lap.”

Still sniffling, you reach under your dress and pull down your underwear. To your horror, you feel the fabric stick to your folds as the smell of your arousal spreads throughout the room. You crumple them in your hand, hiding them behind your back as Steve sits on his bed. His blue sleeves rolled up and legs spread with the freshly cleaned paddle beside him, front-facing up with the glaze reflecting the lights.

“Give them to me.” He’s so patient and calm that it slows down your heart rate.

Tentatively, you place your panties in his outstretched hand. He unwrinkles the lace and hums, your wet spot is bigger than you thought. He rubs over the gusset, bringing the material to his nose and taking a deep breath. When his eyes meet yours, his pupils are blown wide and nothing but a thin ring of blue is framed by his thick eyelashes. Then, you’re bent over his lap with your dress flipped up.

You stare down at his bedsheets, shakily fisting the comforter in your hands.

“Sweet girl, you’re soaked.” His fingers trail through your folds, and your toes curl in your shoes. “Who would’ve thought you’d be into this, huh?” Wet noises fill the room as he sucks on his digits before his touch returns to your pussy, with the extra slickness, he rubs your clit slowly. “That’s it, just relax for me, and it’ll all be over soon enough.”

You duck down, soft moans escaping your sealed lips as he plays with you. You should have known the pleasure would be immediate, Steve knew you like he’s had you for years, but it’s only the second time, and he already has your body memorized.

“Daddy missed this little cunt, I’ve jerked off with your panties, did you know that?” He groans, spreading your folds and watching your juices drip down to your nub, “Of course, you don’t, you never answered the fucking phone.”

You squeal as his palm lands on your cunt, a shock shoots straight through your body. Then, he pierces deep with two fingers, scissoring them inside you.

He takes the paddle, waving it in front of your face. “Kiss it, baby, just a little peck for me.”

With his fingers still pumping in and out of your tight hole, you’re completely at his mercy. You press a short kiss to the paddle, right on the fraternity crest. As you pull away, you fall face-first into the sheets, his hand increasing speed and power as sopping noises bounce off the walls. You shudder as he spanks your pussy again, your juices soaking his skin.

“You’re going to cum when I say to, got it?” His palm swats your cunt before he cups your mound, his big hand making you feel even hotter.

“Yes, daddy.” You weep, breath hitching as your stomach clenches. “F-Fuck—please, don’t stop.”

Steve groans at your high-pitched whine as he pulls away. The paddle is cold against your behind, he lets you feel the protruding letters. “I won’t make you count this time, but we’ll do fifteen, okay? You try to move, and we double it.”

Your chest heaves and you nod, bracing yourself against his leg with your eyes squeezed shut.

The first swat lands firmly on your right cheek. A hot pain erupts from the spot immediately. Then, he rubs your ass, groping the flesh, soothing the burn and dipping between your folds again. He spreads your slick to your ass, tracing up to your puckered hole. Steve groans, “That’s it. You going to take the rest just as good?”

“Y-Yes, daddy…” Your voice trails off as he runs the edge of the paddle between your folds, “I-I, no!”

“Shh, just on your ass for now. But I can’t neglect your pretty pussy. Is that what you want?” Steve spanks you again, this time on your left cheek, “You want me to leave you a drippy mess, let all this cream go to waste? I know how much you like getting hit down here.” Once again, the edge of the wood touches your nub delicately, “You love it, baby. That’s why you’re grinding against the paddle.”

You didn’t even notice until he said it, your hips moving on their own accord. Streams of pleasure soar through your veins, bleeding euphoria into your brain as they expose your deepest desires. You wanted this, you wanted it just as bad as him.

That didn’t stop the shame, though darkly, it only made you more eager.

“Fucking slut, you going dumb already?” He mocks, “I can only imagine how slutty you are when you’re in heat—bet you’d fuck anything just to get off. Tell me, baby, you have toys in your dorm?”

You weakly nod and moan when he meets your grinds, his gifted bulge digs into your side. “Y-Yes, daddy.”

Steve’s mind is overcome with visions of you withering and sweating on your bed, possibly in a little nest with a one-track mind. If he closes his eyes, he can see you riding a silicone cock, stretching your tight hole while your slick drips down your legs. He would bet you love riding your pillow too. “Poor omega, all alone for your heat. Do you know how much better it is with someone else? With an alpha?” He grunts, “You going to let me help you out next time?”

You can feel your high approaching once more and you answer without any hesitation, “Please, fuck, want your knot, need it so bad.”

You whine as he pulls the paddle away, your sound cut off by a squeak as he spanks you once and twice in quick succession.

“Maybe after this, you’ll be better and listen to me.” He marvels at your slick shining against your skin, gathering at your tight hole and pouring out before his eyes. His mouth waters, “And not disrespect me in front of everyone—stupid little girl, that attitude could get you into a whole lot of trouble.”

A hand runs down your spine, then shoves your dress higher, the paddle making contact with your sore ass even harder than the last, a slap echoing through the bedroom. “Don’t worry, daddy’s here and I won’t be mean unless you deserve it.” Maybe that was half a lie, but you didn’t need to know that now. “I’m going to let you cum this time, I missed you so much, missed this pretty fuckhole. God, should’ve just fucked you last time, huh? Knotted you in that little uniform and locked you up in here.”

You try to move your hips for some release, but you’re only met with air.

“I know you want it, sweet girl, and you’ll get it soon.” He rasps, his fingers press into your gland as your bones almost turn to liquid, completely slack and in his care. “Don’t even know if I’ll fit in this little hole—I’ll have to hold you down and force it in.”

You whimper at that, your body pleads for him, crying out in every way for relief, but this is punishment.

You don’t deserve his cock right now, and it makes you more upset than your crushed pride.

He continues to spank you, hard enough to embed his name into your soft flesh. He wants you branded, owned. “Think about it, legacy, my big cock spreading you open, you’ll cry those pretty tears and it’ll hurt so good—but you’ll take it, right?”

“I—”

“You’ll take it or I’ll tie you down and make you.” Another hard spank makes you cry out loudly, shouting his name as he doesn’t stop and repeats it, this time, more directed towards your pussy. “You’re going to be my little cockslut, take me whenever I want, wherever I want, and you’re going to love it.”

He’ll do anything as he pleases.

“Steve!” You scream as the burning tingles bloom from your core, vibrating your whole body, you can feel your juices smear down your thighs.

“You’re mine, don’t you ever forget that.” His voice drops, so gravelly you almost don’t recognize it. He focuses the next spank on your pussy, cursing at the strings of your arousal connecting you to the paddle. “This fuckhole has been mine since you stepped foot in this house, and I’ll spank it if I want. That’s a promise.”

“You’ll never even think about hitting me again,” It’s ironic as he lands another swat on your sensitive centre, your moans increasing in volume and undoubtedly audible from downstairs, “Aw, am I being mean, sweetheart?” He coos. “Answer me.”

“Yes!”

“Good.” He answers short, bringing the paddle to your face, “Lick it.”

You surge forward as he shoves three fingers into your cunt. As you clean your slick from the paddle, Steve doesn’t know where to look. His eyes bounce between your sweet pussy taking his thick fingers, to your greedy mouth drinking down your juices like a whore.

“That’s enough. A few more and you can come.” He rubs your clit a final time before taking his digits in his mouth, swirling them around his tongue as your taste takes over his senses. “You’re going to wake up with your pussy in my mouth.”

In a matter of moments, the sheets below you are soaked with your saliva and some tears. The comforter is clenched between your teeth as drool seeps into the material, every swat pushes you forward and makes your legs flail. He’s relentless on your throbbing cunt, every cry of yours urges him on, he wants you louder so everyone knows exactly who you belong to.

And that whatever happened downstairs will never occur again.

You stay exactly where you are, bent over Steve’s lap as he spanks you with one of his fraternity paddles. He manhandles you and spreads your folds as your face digs deeper into his bed, “Cum for me, omega.”

You squirt as the paddle swats your cunt, your juices spurting out and down your legs as he ruthlessly continues the torment, prolonging your high. Filthy noises dance among your pathetic mewls, your shuddering body twitching over his thighs as the pressure on your belly makes you a little lightheaded.

“Fuck, that’s it. Good girl,” He rubs the edge on your nub, like he’s bullying it, “Show me how much you missed me.”

As you catch your breath, Steve hoists you up and captures you in a kiss. It’s messy and hungry, his guttural groans flow into your mouth. When he pulls away, you’re standing in the middle of his room with a string of saliva between you, he turns you to face the mirror. “Isn’t it pretty, baby?”

You gasp, the bumps over your ass are more noticeable with the shadows. Your cunt weeps between your thighs, humming with little shocks of your high. Even when you try to move, a throbbing blooms through your body, and you wince as he traces over his name. It’s repeated over your skin, and every stroke of his fingers makes your knees buckle, but he keeps you standing with an arm around your waist.

“You made me so proud.”

“R-Really?” You sniffle.

Steve hums, nuzzling your cheek, “So proud, sweet omega. See what happens when you don’t listen?” He kisses your gland, suckling. “Did you learn your lesson?”

You sink into that abyss and his hold, you’re lax as his smell surrounds you. “Yes, daddy. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you, baby.”

When you fall asleep, he spreads ointment over your sore cheeks and probably spends too long admiring his protruding name on your skin. He covers you up and forces himself to keep his distance. He fists his cock in his desk chair, those skimpy white panties in his mouth as he cums, the base of his dick was swollen the moment you bent over his lap.

He doesn’t go downstairs again that night. Only calling Johnny for some water and snacks before he pulls you into his arms, also nude under the sheets.

This, the feeling of your skin against his and your breath fanning over his chest, is what he’s longed for.

And, he most definitely fulfilled his promise the next morning and his fraternity brothers and passed-out party goers got a lewd wakeup call.

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: and here it is ! this chapter was way longer than I predicted, hence the very late upload, but I do love this verse and the characters. I can't wait to explore more of this world and the dynamics !! the main pairing will always be Steve x reader, maybe a blurb in the future with another frat member, but I'm pretty sure it won't be in the main story. I'm also going to make a meet-the-characters post so there's something to keep track on, bc I have many hehe. Oh, and for the next part, I hope you all bring your school spirit bc we're heading to Howard College's football game !

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! this is for my 6k celebration & sleepover ! feel free to join hehe

I don’t have an update schedule.

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3

Taglist link in my bio. Follow my sideblog and turn on the notifications so you can see whenever I post: @onsunnyside-fics in case if I discontinue my taglist.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠. — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

[lemonbarnes]

φ⌎ 𝟏. 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐚

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | dark alpha!fratboy!Steve Rogers x omega sorority!reader (dark A/B/O college AU)

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | DARK themes/elements, A/B/O dynamics, 6’6” Steve, mean!Steve, manipulation, (little bit of) soft!DARK, misogyny (within A/B/O designations), assault, sexual tension, scenting, SMUT - minors DNI, non-con to dub-con, coercion, fingering (f), dirty talk, daddy kink, size difference, degradation, dumbification, choking, spitting, p*ssy slapping, squirting, grinding (dry humping, bulge riding), spanking, (a hint of) dacryphilia (but not really, he does lick tears though), major power imbalance, possessive behaviour

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | It’s hell week at Howard College and Arcadia Phi has traded their pledges for the fresh faces of Kappa Phi, and you’re one of them. Based off this ask.

𝗪/𝗖 | 9.88K

𝗔/𝗡 | here we go ! and because this is me, the frat is full of familiar characters. I made up the frat/sorority names, steve gives me bully vibes (a bully to other people) but it’s just him acting all high and mighty bc he’s an alpha. pls don’t ask me about frat/sorority chapters, i’m making things up/changing things in this fic. all mistakes are my own. this is a dark fic, the warnings have been given—if you don’t like it, don’t read.

𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

A loud banging on the door makes you jump before you blindly scramble for your clothes. Squinting is useless in the darkness, but you make out the vague shadow looming from under the door as an unmistakable musk follows. It’s woody and smokey, and has been burnt into your brain the moment you walked into the frat house.

“What’s taking so long, legacy! Those floorboards aren’t going to scrub themselves.” A deep voice booms, followed by another round of knocks as the doorknob rattles. “You better come out before we come in.”

“Let her hide, Bucky.” Someone else laughs, “We’ll see how long until Steve breaks the door down.”

You swing open the door, “I wasn’t hiding.” You correct in irritation, holding your clothes to your chest.

“Awfully suspicious amount of time in there then. You know, some girls just got changed out in the open.” Another man quips, his cardigan hanging over his shoulders, “Why couldn’t you do the same, sweetheart? Are you shy?”

“Bryce, shut up.” The blond on your right speaks up, no longer a silent observer.

You meet those clear blue eyes that have been drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Almost subconsciously, you take a step backwards to put some distance between the two of you.

Steve is leaning on the wall, his thick arms crossed over his defined chest, the seams of his t-shirt nearly burst as he flexes. “Why did you take so long?”

You uncomfortably shift as dozens of leers fall on you, searing straight through the skimpy maid costume. “The lightbulb went out and I couldn’t see.” You tug on the back of the dress, hoping to save at least an ounce of your dignity.

The alpha stares at you a minute longer, analyzing your features before snapping his fingers. “One of you get on the counter and change the light.”

A girl your age surges forward, a bright and suave smile on her face as she passes the frat brothers. You keep your head up and slip out of the dark bathroom.

A warmth ghosts your arm, a slow Brooklyn drawl following suit, “Better get with the others, legacy.”

After tucking away your clothes, you sink back into the small crowd of girls, each of you is clad in your costumes. Varying in colour combinations, but all in the same style, right down to the little lace apron around your waists.

The volunteer from earlier returns, a skip in her step as she takes position front and centre, she’s one of the few girls completely comfortable in these circumstances.

Steve walks forward, exchanging a few words with a brunet alpha. You scan over his body, begrudgingly admiring the way his shirt clings to his biceps, well-built chest and tapering to his thin waist. Finally, you reach his long legs and thick thighs outlined by his dark jeans, but before your eyes can go rogue, you feel a nudge.

Wanda is smiling cheekily. “The pictures didn’t do him justice, right?”

You briefly recall the various photos plastered on the school’s website and social media—Steve Rogers, one of the most prominent figures at Howard College. Most known for being the captain of the football team and the vice president of his fraternity, which itself was exclusively for male alphas, leading to a rowdy bunch of men with egos the size of the moon.

You turn to Wanda and lie, “I don’t remember them.”

The beta looks unconvinced, as expected. Ever since you met her last year, she’s been able to read you like an open book, those inquisitive green eyes peeking through your brain to read the thoughts you haven’t organized yourself. Although, you’ve grown used to her poking and prodding, in an endearing way.

Glancing around at the other pledges, they’re all wearing the same hazy expression, utterly taken by the gods of campus a few feet away.

“You seem a little affected despite not remembering…” She trails off, wiggling her nose.

Your eyes widen and your arms wrap around you. “Really!”

“No, but now I know you were lying.” She replies smugly, flipping her long auburn hair over her shoulder. “As if I could pick you out amongst these ones.”

You deflate, thankful your body hadn’t proven that stereotype right—that omegas are sensual fiends and just easy toys—yet another conception that has haunted you for your whole life.

A loud clap echoes through the room, and everyone’s attention snaps to Steve. He’s taller and bigger than his frat brothers, naturally domineering every other person in the room as he slowly paces. “Welcome to Arcadia Phi, ladies, it’s a good thing you’re all easy on the eyes.” He pauses in front of one girl, frowning, “Almost all of you.”

The eruption of laughter makes you cower backwards, your chest aching for the poor girl. Steve was living up to his reputation as clear as day—the vain, cruelly praised star who couldn’t do any wrong, but on the off chance he did, no one would care. His high and mighty designation and status blind any accountability. You’ve only heard a handful of rumours where people disagreed with him, and only a few actually spoke up about it, but you don’t know what happened after the fact.

Who knows what these ruthless alphas are capable of?

The sons of other alphas who have had the world on a silver platter since their presentation. Taking over society with a snap of their fingers as everyone falls to their knees—in submission or fear.

You hated it, but it’s also all you’ve ever known. A little bit of hope sparks in your chest, a faint perhaps things will change. In your past year at this college, you’ve been blessed to avoid the inevitable consequences that come with being a young, unclaimed omega. The disrespect and objectification, and the horror stories of assault and things even worse.

It hurts even more because of your current predicament, dressed in the most scandalous outfit for the pleasure of these men.

It was unfair to be blessed to not face challenges that no one should ever come across. And, that perhaps burns brighter every time you daydream about a life without any struggles or hardships, where your thoughts and words matter, where your voice can be heard and not disregarded solely based on what you are.

Everyone else was given a chance to be something when they presented, for omegas, it was the opposite. The opportunities slip from your grasp before you can even consider them. Truly doomed by your predestined fate. A mere passenger to the life already written for you.

Howard College has stated multiple times that they’re all for omega rights, but their efforts and representation within the board and council are severely lacking. Their words are silenced by their actions, only confirming their true beliefs.

You weren’t surprised.

It was an awful reflection of society itself. The divide gets thicker every day, between alphas, betas and omegas. Alphas and betas were more common than omegas—but that didn’t halt any ill-treatment, it never did and you dread it never will. Growing up, you’ve heard stories about omega trafficking, and that in some places, breeding programs are still legalized and it’s mandatory for omegas to be claimed within five years of presenting.

At least you weren’t in any of those pieces of hell on earth.

Unfortunately, worldwide, omega rights are nothing but an afterthought. Something to consider after everything else has been handled and stabilized, only when there is care and consideration to spare.

Being at the bottom of the barrel, nothing you say or do could help—so you bite your tongue, tugging at your skirt. God, the more you thought about it, the angrier you got. The audacity and self-entitlement radiating from the men across the room were suffocating. But a voice in your head warns you to steer clear of the fratboys who are notorious for coining the term; omega slut walk.

The vice president stops in front of your side of the group, looming over a beta. When he flashes a charming smile, she sighs dreamily, “A few of you are quite pleasing to look at.”

Some of the girls giggle, flirtatiously fluttering their lashes.

Steve stops short, “I didn’t say I want to hear any of you.” He raises his hand as silence takes over, “That’s better. Just look pretty and do what we say, all right? Then, you’ll all be in our sister sorority.” He pauses, a short test for any rulebreakers, but there aren’t any and he nods in approval.

“Now, ladies, this house hasn’t been deep cleaned in a while.” He stands with his feet spread shoulder-width apart, “So, be thorough, be quiet unless you’re spoken to, and I’ll put in a good word with Maria. Got it?” Everyone silently nods. “You can speak.”

“Yes, Steve.” You all say at once.

The blond cockily grins at his friends. “Good girls, now, line up for your supplies.” He gestures to the kitchen.

The group of you move towards the doorway in a neat line, lips sealed tight as the fratboys talk amongst themselves. Some outrightly compliment the fit of the costumes, their muffled lewd comments make your cheeks heat up.

“Where’s Ari?” One of the betas asks, she’s at the end of the line with her arms crossed over her chest. “He’s the president, why isn’t he here?”

The tall blond quirks a brow, “Last time I checked, his whereabouts isn’t something you need to know.”

“You can’t give orders—I heard Maria made the deal with Ari, not you.”

Steve clears his throat, an unnerving gaze locked on her face. It drags on long enough that the line has completely stalled until someone pushes ahead. Now, you and Wanda stand by the kitchen doorway. You glance back again, and Steve hasn’t moved, neither has the girl—and it’s a flicker, barely noticeable from where you stand, but she slightly recoils. And, like that, Steve pounces.

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you get your pledge redacted.” His voice booms as he tilts his head, “Was it worth opening your mouth, beta?”

“I—”

“Curtis, open the door.” The brunet with a buzzcut clicks open the lock, welcoming the afternoon sun as a fresh breeze blows through, but it’s futile against the tension. “Go on, walk out. Leave because you’d rather speak than join Kappa Phi.”

The girl looks at everyone else, wordlessly begging for a saviour, a courageous person to stand up against the vice president but no one does. You’re all either too afraid or too infatuated to even dare and hopelessly, she leaves. Gathering her belongings and slowly walking out of the frat house.

“Maybe we should call this the stupid beta walk.” The man from earlier, Bryce scoffs.

It’s quite comedic watching the other alphas collectively sigh, as if they’re only aware of the doucheness when Bryce opens his mouth. It wouldn’t surprise you if that’s why they kept him around, to make them look better because even within their designations, alphas need to be the absolute best.

With an ego so vast it made room for a new one, blooming from right in the centre.

One of the other brothers pulls Steve aside, he’s the one who was banging on the bathroom door. Bucky is almost as tall as Steve but his hair is longer and darker. Their build is similar, packed with muscles straining against their clothes but Bucky’s skin is slightly more tanned.

Everyone takes turns gathering supplies; some grab a bottle of cleaner and a rag, others take a small bucket and a sponge. You’re one of the last ones and take a sponge and bucket, dipping your finger in the warm water as you retreat to the small group of girls. All of the different scents overwhelm your nose, ranging from antiseptic to bitter to intensely sweet, the betas surrounding you shake with anticipation.

Alphas give each of you tasks all around the house. Some are sent back to the kitchen, the living room or one of the bathrooms. You’re all dismissed with alphas to keep an eye on you, supervisors to bark out demands.

You’re following a few girls to the living room, then settling into a corner, dipping the sponge in the bucket before scrubbing the discolouration on the floorboards. It’s probably a spill from one of their legendary parties.

As you halfheartedly listen to the alphas talk to each other and the occasional vile comment, you remind yourself why you’re doing this.

Wanda’s gleaming face appears in your head, her eyes lighting up at the thought of belonging to the sorority, Kappa Phi, one of the best for betas and omegas—although there have only ever been a few omegas accepted. And unfortunately, you weren’t one of them last year and that’s how you met Wanda, bonding over being rejected from the sorority.

Wanda called Kappa Phi perfect, although not as known as Arcadia Phi. There wasn’t a fraternity like it, with the most celebrity alums and best leaders with successful lives. Sometimes you wonder how those self-serving souls were gifted with great lives, then you realize that’s how society treats alphas—feeding into their hunger, fueling their greed and egos.

Just like that, Wanda’s face transforms into your mother’s disappointed frown, the same one she wore when you told her the news last year.

“Legacy.” A voice singsongs, “Cap would like to speak to you.”

“I can speak for myself.” Steve pushes off the wall. Anxiety scatters your thoughts, because you didn’t know he was there.

Steve can make his presence known if he wants, which has become very clear since you entered Arcadia Phi. And when he doesn’t, he can seamlessly blend in. You bitterly think about him having a choice. To be seen, to be heard, to be feared—all while you are the unseen, ignored and disregarded, and one who is fearful of people like him.

The most terrifying monsters trick you into believing they aren’t monsters at all. Playing on your trust, only to clamp their fangs in your neck when you least expect it, and yank you into their depths.

There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that Steve was one of those monsters, and you were positive he knew he was too.

“Are you sure? All you’ve done is stare at her like a piece of meat.” A dark-haired man speaks up, his sweater sleeves rolled up while the ring and bracelet glimmer against his pale skin.

“Actually, you two stand up.” Steve’s lips are pressed in a firm line. The girl next to you stands, her blond hair in a low ponytail and her green eyes narrowed. “You go upstairs to the first door on the left, and you,” Steve cocks his head, his gaze unabashedly dragging over your body and lingering on your breasts, “You’ll clean my room.”

The girl walks away with confidence, ignoring the alphas who praise the fit of her costume. With a straightened posture, you follow after her, facing forward with the wet sponge in your hand. Steve stands by the bottom of the stairs, emanating a force that both lures and repels you.

“What’s your name?” His hand falls to your waist like it’s been there a million times before, the warmth sinking through your clothes.

You tell him your name as you stop at the last door on the right. It’s strikingly different from the rest, as if it were painted with a fresh coat of white, it stood out among the busted, stained or cracked doors. Your reflection shines in the doorknob, distorted with visible unease over your features.

His arm brushes yours as he unlocks the door, the key slipping out before he dangles it in front of your face.

“I like my privacy. My brothers tend to just do whatever they want.”

The door slowly swings open, as silent as a breath of air. The walls are a dark blue, almost a rich navy and contrasting against the blinding white bedspread, the sheets wrinkled and half off of the mattress. There’s a desk in the corner cluttered with a shiny laptop, pens and textbooks, as messy as yours back at your dorm. The nightstands are mostly clean, apart from a small stack of books and a lamp on each.

There is an arrangement of paddles on the wall. Some are a plain light wood tone and one, in particular, is a design of red, white and blue, all of them display the same thing; Greek letters, the fraternity crest, along with ‘Big Bro Steve’ above the other name.

The wide window is open, a soft wind flows through, lightly rustling the curtains and the various posters taped on the walls—ranging from school promotions, and fraternity and football related. Nothing beyond that, not even a movie or a band which leads you to believe Steve was as one-dimensional as a sheet of paper—his life revolved around school, his fraternity and football.

Bland, but you had no protests because then he’d be easy to forget. Except, those nerves come rushing back again when you spot something on his four-poster bed. On the metal frame by the fluffy pillows are two pairs of handcuffs, unlocked and glaring at you straight in the face.

“Oops, forgot I left those there.”

The way he speaks makes you think he’s lying. Behind you, Steve dips down and takes a deep breath inches away from your head and growls lowly in his chest. Your toes curl in your shoes as your mind tells you to run far away and never come back, but Wanda’s hopefulness and your mother’s dismay root you into the floor of the house.

You needed a spot in Kappa Phi. Even if that meant risking being scented by an ill-famed alpha.

“Have you ever been handcuffed? I can imagine you have a hard time keeping your hands to yourself, you like being touched, and touching someone else.” He rasps, “But I have a feeling that you’re better at following rules than others. Putting on this little dress without any complaints, just a polite request to change in the bathroom.”

You clench your jaw when he tugs at the bow of the apron, “Can I just clean?”

You gasp and the water splashes and gets on your dress—it was a costume, made of cheap flimsy material that wouldn’t survive a gust of wind, and it definitely wouldn’t survive a strong alpha like Steve. He has the tie wrapped in his fist, the fabric digs into your front and pulls you into his chest, keeping you firmly against him.

“Did you leave your manners downstairs?” He doesn’t shout, his words are quiet and low and that only makes them more unsettling.

“N-No.” You despise the rapid beating of your heart, your natural instincts kicking in and nearly forcing you under his submission. “I’m sorry, can I please clean?” Your ass brushes over the firm bulge in his pants.

“Pretty, sweet and smart? Makes me wonder how an omega like you is still unmated.” He releases you and he reaches for your scent gland, but you quickly shuffle into his bedroom. Steve just chuckles, “Eager to please too—sounds to me that you’re picture-perfect material.”

“What should I clean first?” You avoid his gaze, finding great interest in the gentle ripples of the water in the bucket. You can’t let him that close again, and you shouldn’t have let him that close in the first place. If he touches your spot, you’d be another notch on his belt and another omega on the slut walk list—because yes, there was a list and it’s plastered in the living room.

It didn’t help that he smells so good, earthy and borderline spell-inducing. He makes you sick to your stomach and then that nausea erupts into flames of rage because he’s an asshole standing on a pedestal with his name etched in gold.

Steve made you feel so many things when you didn’t even know him. When he was just Howard College’s star player, and that hasn’t changed since you’re feet away from him. Those overwhelming and inconsistent feelings have appeared again. You don’t want him to make you feel anything. Except maybe forgotten, because then he’d leave you alone.

“How about you just get on your knees, omega?”

He doesn’t move, taking up more than half of the entryway as he gestures to the moderate mess of his bedroom. You shiver and obey, turning around and spotting a hamper with clothes hanging over the edge, some on the floor. You drop to your knees, gathering each item as his smell encapsulates your mind. You’re briefly reminded of your boring and plain bedroom, and how much better it would look with a nest.

On the walls of your brain are images of a warm and comforting bundle, varying in pillows and blankets, but most notably, there’s a heaping of fabrics that look awful like Steve’s clothes in your hands.

You start to feel sick again, and if only you could scrub your brain instead of the floorboards.

“Ain’t that a pretty view.” Steve crosses his arms, admiring the view of your upper thighs, “Don’t get any ideas, legacy.”

“What?” You toss the clothes into the basket and cover it. Standing once again, you straighten the bottles of cologne and other belongings on his dresser. It’s a little dusty, so you take the sponge from the bucket and wipe it down.

“You might want to snatch something of mine. Wouldn’t be the first time an omega tried to steal from me. I’ve been told I have an irresistible scent, I mean, it’s nothing like yours but could be a runner up.”

You try to focus on your tasks. Going from his nightstands to his closet, hanging up a few clothes that have fallen and organizing the shoes on the rack. You’re kneeling in the closet when one of his fraternity brothers pops up, you ignore them as best you can, sorting the different sneakers, boots and dress shoes.

A loud laugh startles you, making you drop a pair of sneakers.

“Oh, she’s jumpy?” You vaguely remember that voice, you’ve heard him in a few of your lectures.

“She’s cute, right? Like a little bunny.”

Your head snaps back as you glare at Steve. Every moment you spend in his presence makes you want to do something, to be more than a mere bystander, but to an extent because you didn’t want to make him too angry. You still wanted to—needed to join Kappa Phi.

It turns out your heated glare was barely anything, and all you get is a coy wink from the tall blond.

“Honey, are you okay down there?” The older alpha, Andy asks, faint dimples under his thick beard, “You don’t look like the kind to spend a lot of time on your knees.”

You abruptly stand, narrowed gaze set on the two burly men by the door. They have you caged in with a mocking gleam on their faces, daring you to say whatever your little fiery heart desires. Say it, tell them what assholes they are, how they deserve nothing they have—how their self-righteousness is just them making up for their lack of knot.

Fucking say it.

You can feel the frustration buzzing in your chest, but your throat and lips refuse to cooperate, forcing the rest of you to just bubble in silent fury. Opening your mouth would be digging your own grave, but the cold and wet dirt is better than Steve’s and any other alpha’s poisoned presence.

If only you were immune to whatever toxicity was streaming through their veins and draped in their words.

Silently defeated by yourself and their taunting expressions, you turn away and dust your dress, belittling yourself for retreating so quickly.

“Good choice, legacy.” Andy quips, “what else are you willing to do for a spot in Kappa?”

“If I tell you, will it happen?” You busy yourself with Steve’s desk. Organizing the pens and pencils into the mason jar, before moving onto the sheets of paper.

“Depends what it is.”

“I’m willing to redo that law essay you flunked on.” You face them again, and Andy has a surprised, but pleased smile on his face. Steve is the opposite, his eyebrows are furrowed while his lips are pressed in a firm line.

“Yeah? Do you want to tutor me too?”

Steve steps forward, inserting himself between you and the other alpha like a brick wall. “You can’t do a thorough job if you’re distracted. Do you want him to leave?”

You hold the papers to your chest, “Pardon?”

“Tell him, show me that you’re Kappa Phi material.” He smirks. “Tell him to leave us alone, omega.”

The sheets crinkle in your hands as you tense. Speaking back to alphas was only a fantasy, sure you’ve dreamt of kicking their teeth in, but you have never crossed that line.

Omega—he was reminding you of your designation, as if you could forget it. But you knew he only wanted to rub it in, to summon that dread and watch it bleed onto your features because omegas could never tell an alpha what to do and have the same impact of an alpha demanding an omega.

Your words would be nothing but white noise, as forgetful as an advertisement on the radio and no one would listen because no one had to. Not like omegas who bowed down at the first syllable of an alpha using their alpha voice or being subject to a great deal of pain.

You couldn’t tell an alpha what to do, not without looking like a fool, even if it was one as casual and collected as Andy.

“C’mon, I know there’s a little spice in all that sweetness. You’ve wanted to open your mouth since you walked in here, and now I’m permitting you to.” Steve comes closer until he stands a few inches from you, his stature towers over you like a mountain.

“G-Go away.”

Andy chuckles from the door, “What was that?”

Steve grabs your chin, “That’s not what I told you to say, darling.”

You can’t tell if the aching you feel is your pride or your loneliness thriving in the attention—you haven’t been the object of one's attention, alpha or beta, in a very long time.

“Leave us alone, Andy.” You’re frozen in the pools of blue surrounded by thick lashes. As if it weren’t enough for his body to be your wet dream, his face was a work of art. Chiselled cheekbones, strong jaw and a prominent nose. Clear skin sprinkled with freckles and beauty marks, and pink plump lips that stretched into a prince-like smile.

You hated to find him so attractive, but the world has never been on your side anyway.

The brunet pushes off the doorframe, “I guess I’ll check on the other girl in the bathroom. Be gentle with this one, Steve, she seems more delicate than your last toy.”

And, just like that, you’re flung back into reality. Steve is also a player, known for his various relations that never last more than a few weeks. He’s probably been with more than most think. Some are too ashamed for everyone to know that Steve Rogers had them, then dumped them like trash on the side of the road.

Typical Arcadia alphas, plucking people left and right then ditching them when they get bored or when a new spark catches their attention.

You don’t want to be that for Steve. You refuse to be the new object of his affection—because that’s how he’d treat you, something to show off until he doesn’t want you anymore.

Not to mention you just hated everything he stood for.

The easy life, the self-entitlement, privilege and downright mean attitude, selfishness and arrogance rolled into one.

You just need to keep a distance, keep reminding yourself why you’re here and that he’s just a bad man. A terrible man who shouldn’t even be touching you right now. You take a step back and distract yourself with his desk. Filing through the textbooks and setting them on the small shelf.

“I’ve seen you around campus. Do you have a dorm here?”

“I do.” You answer short. You’ve seen him riding his bike and revving the engine. Zooming down the campus streets with a leather or denim jacket. The supposed legend in the making, but right now, he was just the shadow looming over your shoulder, chilling to the bone.

Steve pulls out his desk chair and sits down, relaxing on the cushions and spreading his thighs. His foot knocks yours. “I haven’t had a dorm room, just tried for Arcadia and got in so I’ve lived here for about two years now.”

You just nod, gathering the small bunches of sticky notes and scattered paper clips.

“Those go in the drawer.” He runs a hand through his hair, a twinkle in his eyes.

You open the drawer and are welcomed with strips of condoms and tubes of lube. Your cheeks go hot as you drop the items in and slam it shut. “Those should be in your nightstand.”

“Oh, I have them there too. These are just backups.” Steve’s gaze rakes over you as his tongue pokes out to lick his lips. “You tried to get into Kappa last year.”

You’re doing this for Wanda and your mother, and you need to try even harder than you did last year. Maybe after this, your mother will finally return your calls, you can only hope that one day, she’ll recognize the wrongness in her actions. Pushing you away only because you didn’t get into her old sorority. Whether Kappa Phi didn’t accept you because of your designation or other reasons, it’s not fair of her to treat you this way.

“Unlike Arcadia, Kappa is quite easy to get into. They’ll accept anyone like every other frat or sorority on campus.” Steve rolls his eyes, “So, it makes me curious as to why you were denied, legacy.”

“Can you not call me that?” And you quickly add, “Please?”

“That’s what you are. Your mother was in Kappa Phi, and now you’re going to be in it too—maybe, I can still redact your pledge but I wouldn’t want to make momma-legacy upset. Does she know you’re trying again?”

“She would if she answered my calls.”

Steve is quiet for a few seconds before he nods slowly. You grab the sponge and try to move away, but he grabs your wrist, pulling you to stand between his legs. “What’d you do to not get in? Sleep with another girl's partner? Hook up with a professor for some extra credit?”

You scowl. “None of that.”

“My brothers and I have a theory that every omega is a whore until proven innocent.”

You stiffen as his other hand fiddles with the lace hem of your dress, slipping between the first layer to the second and finally to your skin. His fingers trail higher, and you clamp your thighs together, glazing at the open door as his grip on your wrist tightens. You want him to let go and stop, so you say the one thing that has been in your head, “You’re an asshole.”

The second those words leave your mouth, a fresh wave of relief combs over you, but then it freezes like water. The realization is icy cold, stilling in your veins and halting your breath.

“What was that?” He moves fast and stands, crowding you against the desk. The water drips down your elbow as you raise your arms and try to keep him at bay, but it’s useless. He presses against you, the water seeping into his shirt.

“An asshole—am I mean? Like your mother who’s ignoring you because you didn’t get into a sorority?” Steve asks, “I can be much worse than that, and I think you know that.”

He grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger, he’s close enough that you can see every shade of blue and tint of green in his eyes. His lips are so pink and pillowy soft, you can’t help but lean into his touch like a magnetic force. “You’re looking at me like I’m going to hurt you.”

It’s instinctual and completely out of your control. The warmth he radiates, the raw power and just alpha compelling you. You realize you’ve been fighting him since you met him, and as vigorously as you resisted, he could turn you to mush with a flutter of his eyes.

He hums softly, drinking down your smell like a man starved. When his gaze meets yours again, the iris is a thin ring around the pupil. “And, I just might.” His white teeth gleam maliciously behind a simper.

You snap out of whatever fleeting spell he had you under and inch backwards, willing yourself to stay silent. He steps forward, his thigh slipping between yours and pinning you against the desk.

“I won’t hurt a pretty omega like you unless you give me a reason to.” His Brooklyn twang rings in your ears, drilling the threat into your brain. “So, don’t give me one.”

You nod wordlessly, gripping the sponge so tightly that all the water was gone, and probably on Steve’s shirt and your dress. You can’t move to check because he keeps you in place, provoking you to make a wrong move.

And, unknowingly, you did and Steve sighs in disappointment, you find yourself searching your mind for the cause of it—before a round of cheers grab your attention. Your face slips from Steve’s hold before he grips you again, this time with your chin between his knuckles, lightly pinching you. “Speak, sweetheart.”

“Y-Yes, Steve.”

“Good girl.” His touch trails across your jaw, then down your neck. “This is cute.” He notes, touching the silver chain around your neck, all the way to the small circle with the stamped letter. He tuts when you don’t speak. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Thank you, Steve.” You gulp, practically sitting on his desk with his thigh snug between yours. The bottom of your dress is dangerously close to exposing your panties.

“Who’s H?”

“My friend.”

He flips the metal charm, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the engraving. “Your friend.”

“My best friend.” You squirm as his other hand lands on your hip, gently squeezing, “We grew up together but he goes to Harvard.”

“Childhood friends… Isn’t that adorable?” Steve beams, “You’re sentimental, then?” He twirls the necklace around his finger as the chain digs into your neck.

With every swirl of his digit, he brings you another inch closer as his breath fans over your cheeks. “I-I guess.”

He’s quiet for a few moments, his watchful gaze locked on your face, observing every minuscule twitch. “Would you wear my name?”

“What?”

“Would you wear my name right here,” he lightly pulls at the chain, “or would you rather wear my mark,” it almost happens in slow motion. With your arms uselessly sandwiched between your bodies, his touch trails to your scent gland, applying pressure, “right here. Where everyone can see.”

His smell increases tenfold, forming a cloud around you and soaking into your brain. The smoky and woody scent is calming and awakening at the same time. This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen, but your defences are fluttering to the ground with every millisecond as he scents you—without your consent. It triggers some of your basic instincts, the innate desire to be claimed by another, to be submissive and at their beck and call.

With the chain in his grasp and a gentle touch of his fingers, he cracks the walls you’ve built to keep yourself safe and secure, to keep yourself separate from your designation and your predestined fate.

You attempt to collect yourself and through uneven breaths, you push him away. Steve doesn’t budge, he only grabs your thigh and hikes it on his waist, forcing you on the desk as your dress flips up. His dark gaze lands on your cotton panties and he growls appreciatively, nostrils flaring.

Your heart beats against your chest, loud enough to rattle your brain. “Please, don’t.” You whisper. “I can’t—I don’t...”

“You don’t?” He rubs your spot in slow circles, “If you don’t want me, then why are you getting wet?” He emphasizes his words by snapping the band of your panties against your skin, drawing closer to your warm centre.

“Because you’re—” You whine, resolve melting away with every delicate motion of his fingers, you slump under his touch.

Weak, you feel so weak yet desired. It’s a cruel curse of euphoria and you hate yourself for it, although it’s completely out of your control.

“You want me, sweetheart. I can see it on your face, I can smell you soaking your panties. I bet if I listen hard enough, I can hear your whiney thoughts begging for me.” Steve’s voice is smooth and deep, “But, all I can hear is your heart racing because you’re excited. Have you ever been touched like this?” His hand brushes over your panties and cups your mound.

“It’s not that.”

Steve’s hold tightens on your necklace as his long and thick fingers start rubbing over the cotton fabric, your wetness unmistakably seeping through. “Then what, omega?”

You don’t answer. You can’t answer, not while all of your pent-up frustration comes rushing in. The look in his eyes is hard to pinpoint whether he’s remorseless, fully intrigued or downright enjoying toying with you.

Your lips quiver as tears pool in your eyes. You hate him, and you hate how good he’s making you feel with just a few fingers. You whimper as he tugs your panties to the side, sliding between your slick folds.

“Is it fear?” His tone is light and taunting, “Because that’s even better than excitement and, it looks especially lovely on you, legacy.”

As he releases your necklace, and his warmth on your scent gland leaves too. You’re flooded with ease and without his support, you sag into the shelf on the desk, the textbooks fall and the mason jar of pens tips over, clattering to the ground as the glass rolls away.

Steve tears the front of your dress, the cheap seams giving away under his strength. Your nipples meet the cool air, pebbled and immediately pinched by the alpha standing between your legs. He growls, massaging your tits as his other hand returns to your nub.

“You haven’t been touched in a while. I can tell.” His tone is so wickedly gentle, it’s a sharp contrast to his character. “Look at you, going dumb for me already, getting my desk wet.” He rasps, “C’mon, push me away.”

Your hands land on his forearms as your last line of defence falls.

His eyes lock on yours, his pink lips part in low breaths. “Do it. Tell me you don’t want me.”

Your fingertips press into his skin when he pulls away from your cunt, his big hands land on your inner thighs. A strained whine escapes your throat, a silent plea for more.

“Or, tell me you want me, baby. Cry for me—let me know how bad you want my touch, my fingers in your pretty pussy, my knot in your fuckhole.” Steve massages your flesh, inching closer to your core but never directly touching there, “I want to hear you say it, omega.”

His words are another blow to your pride. You surrender to his undeniable authority, giving in to him because Steve was right, you haven’t been touched in a long time, and everyone was a victim to his command—that didn’t exclude you.

Do you want him?

Do you even have a choice?

“Let me hear you, sweet girl. Give me what I want, don’t you want to make me proud?”

Maybe you did and that’s why he was asking.

You consider it, which might have been your first mistake. After all the rumours you’ve heard, most of them have been proven to be true, you shouldn’t trust him or want to make him proud. Why should his commendation matter when he’s nothing but another alpha with a sense of superiority?

Because he isn’t just another alpha—he’s Steve Rogers.

And he wants you.

You should have stayed far away from him and Arcadia Phi, regardless of your best friend’s and mother’s wishes. But you didn’t, and now look at you, sprawled on his desk with his bedroom door open, scantily clad in a torn maid costume with your most sensitive spot exposed. Your scent gland is still buzzing with his touch, craving more.

Despite your hateful feelings, you want more, you want him. There’s no denying that at this moment.

That’s when the first tear falls down your cheek, leaving a shiny trail in its wake.

“Please touch me, Steve. I-I want you.” You hiccup, reaching for his hands to bring one to your face, the other to your pussy. Your knees hook around his waist, “Want you so bad, alpha.”

His blue eyes twinkle, the corner of his lips quirk up, “That’s my omega.”

You would have never expected your day to end up like this. Willingly giving in to his advances, but maybe that was why you even considered it.

Steve knows the truth. You believed you had a choice when he was going to get what he wanted one way or another. He thrives off your sweet little heart having faith in yourself, it’s adorable. And, he can’t wait to corrupt you.

“Please, Steve.” Your legs fall open, neck craning to watch his skilled fingers trace your hole, barely dipping it before rubbing your clit again. You’re aching for him and anything he can give you.

Your slick drips out and Steve’s mouth waters, he’s seconds away from dropping to his knees and devouring you whole. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? I saw you at orientation—you seemed so lost but eager.” He cups your face, leaning down until his nose brushes yours and finally, one of his fingers pushes in, pressing to his knuckle before drawing out. “You didn’t even fucking look at me.”

You whine, scrambling for his broad shoulders and falling deeper into that blissful headspace.

“As if I wasn’t even there.” He slides in with two fingers, sissoring you open. He pumps in deep, curling his digits to reach your special spot as his thumb lands on your clit, “Now look at you, baby, dripping on my desk, your cunt sucking me in. Bet you’re hungry for a knot, huh?” There’s a softness in his eyes and his touch on your cheek. His warmth sinks to your bones, burning an imprint in the shape of him.

Steve speeds up and adds more power. His bicep flexes with every thrust, working you open as your juices drip down his hand, marking him with your scent. He looms over you, huge and intimidating, making you a compliant mess. His groan rumbles his chest as he pulls out to slap your pussy, the wet noises make your cheeks heat up. “Nearly forced Kappa Phi to take you in but my ex was the president at the time.”

He captures your lips in his, slipping his tongue in your mouth as his palm falls to the side of your neck. Your jaw falls slack as he rubs your gland and penetrates three thick fingers into your tight hole at the same time. Steve growls, biting on your bottom lip before kissing you sloppily. He tastes like mint and he’s demanding and rough, while you’re needy and docile, a perfect match.

You turn away as he picks up pace, spreading his long fingers along your inner walls. Moans flow out of your body and into the open air, shameless and absolute music to Steve’s ears. He stretches you open as the shelf digs into your back, his expert touch bringing you to the edge fast. Heat builds in your belly and even in the thin dress, you feel the sweat on your skin. He spanks your clit, feeding off your mewls along with the lewd sopping noises coming from your core. Your cream has formed a mess under your ass as it’s forced out of your poor hole, dripping down to your rosebud.

“That’s it, you going to come for me, sweet girl? This cunt was made for taking cock, for taking mine—you want my knot, omega? Since you’re this wet from my hand, I bet you’re a stupid mess when you’re in heat. You hear that?” He slaps your cunt in quick succession, “You’re dripping for me, you want me to stretch you open, fuck you until you can’t even think.” He grunts, teeth clenched as your thighs threaten to shut, he prys them apart and swats your clit harder, still pounding you with his fingers. “You’d take my cock if I just asked, huh? You’d let me fill your little cunt, breed you like a dumb slut. I bet you fucking love this.”

You cover your face as you squeal, the back of your head thumping against the wall as you convulse. Your slick pours out, soaking his skin and dripping down his wrist. His pumps don’t stutter or even slow down, he keeps up the intensity and you’ve officially lost your mind. You fist his t-shirt in your other hand, either trying to escape or pull him closer, you don’t even know.

“So fucking tight, you don’t even want me to stop, huh?” He yanks you close by the back of your neck, he spits into your open mouth. “That’s why you squirted all over me, fucking cock hungry whore.” He kisses you although you barely respond, too fucked out and dazed. When he pulls away, he messily traces through your folds, smearing your juices around as he releases your lips with a pop.

The blue in his eyes is hardly visible, but that could just be your watery vision. He brings his hand to your face, spreading his digits as your cream webs between them. “You want a taste, baby?”

You let him slip two fingers into your mouth, pressing to the knuckles and forcing you to clean him. He groans as you gag slightly, tears welling in your eyes as he fucks your mouth just like your cunt. When he deems you’ve had enough, he sucks his ring finger, eyes fluttering shut at your taste. He’s filthy with it, putting on a show, letting you know just how he’d treat your precious pussy with his tongue.

“Tastes even better than I thought.” Steve sighs, and runs his fingers along the bottom half of your face, your wetness mixed with both of your saliva dries on your skin. “Now, if you did that last year during pledge week, you would’ve gotten into Kappa without a doubt.”

You’ve barely managed to catch your breath, still riding on that wave that’s made you question your entire college career. “I-I don’t need your help.”

Steve laughs, easily picking you up and sitting in the chair. Even in his lap, he’s bigger than you. “You just need me. And with that, you’re going to get my help anyway.” He grips your hips as your tingling cunt meets his jeans.

“Wait—” You gasp, “It’s too much, I can’t—”

“You can,” He kisses down your cheek to your jaw, he sucks at the spot right by your scent gland. “And, you will. Make me even prouder, omega. Rub yourself on me, make a mess on my pants. Claim me just like I’ll claim you.” Then, his teeth drag over your spot, immediately making you pliant in his hold and to his voice. “Be a good girl for daddy.”

You tie your arms around his shoulders, wasting no time in grinding against the giant bulge. The denim is rough against your sensitive petals, but it feels so good, it feels better than your pillow at your dorm and with every swirl of your hips, Steve groans freely against your neck.

He tears the back of your skimpy dress and the fabric falls down your body. It hangs from your waist and the skirt flutters with every rock of your hips. Your cunt is tortured by his jeans, your clit rubbed raw and begging for a break, but you can’t give yourself one. Not until Steve wants you to because, despite your best efforts, you’ve fallen victim to his cruel charm and your darkest fantasies.

Steve sucks on your spot, teasing you with nips between his dirty words. You can’t even hear him anymore, your body hums with passion and want. An instinctual desire to obey his every command and be his good girl, you want to claim him—own him like he owns you.

Perhaps the stereotypes about omegas were always right, and you’ve been in denial. Or, Steve is just intoxicating with a magnetic force that draws you in. He’s awoken a longing inside you, one that you didn’t even know existed.

“They said you were one of the smartest omegas on campus, but it doesn’t seem like that now.” Steve grabs your throat with one hand, guiding you over his clothed cock with the other. “I turned you into my little omega, my dumb slut. I can feel your pussy throbbing for me, oh, my pussy—because this tight fuckhole was made for me.” He tightens his hold and licks from your jaw to your cheek. “Aw, are you crying for me? Giving daddy those pretty tears, it’s like you never want me to let you go.”

You struggle against him, hiccuping another pathetic moan as he thrusts upwards, meeting your grinds.

Steve knows you aren’t incapable, not like the rest of the dull and drab students of Howard College. You had a fight in you, albeit timid and frail, it was there and he can only imagine what other fire hides within your soul. He read the hatred and spite on your face like an open book, you weren’t as secretive as you thought and he assumed you’d be trouble. But no, you stayed quiet and obedient until he lured you out.

You had potential, you had shown that with your early resistance and how you treated Andy—fucking Andy, this morning he asked if you could clean his room, but Steve had already made his intentions clear. You were his for the day, and the next, until he was done with you. Which wasn’t anywhere in the near future.

Watching you now, teary eyes rolled in the back of your head and listening to your mewls echo through the room, he hopes Andy and the rest of his frat brothers were listening. Then, they’d know that Steve wasn’t letting you go, they could try, they could beg and fight, and he’d just tease you in front of their noses. Playing with people was fun, and with you in his corner, he’d never lose.

“Fuck, keep going.” Steve hisses, the veins in his neck tense as his head falls back. His fingertips dig into your ass, groping the flesh, “That’s it, you’re doing so good, baby.”

“Daddy, ah please, daddy.”

“What do you need, omega?” Steve pants, flipping up the stubborn skirt to watch your puffy cunt grind against his bulge. The denim is dark under you and he has the perfect view of your spread folds and swollen clit rubbing along his jeans, your sweet slick seeping through his jeans to his skin, he can feel you.

“F-Fuck me, please—I want it, want it.” You repeat, nails dragging down his shirt, your poor hole weeping for him.

He smirks, “My little girl wants my cock? Want me to stretch your tight pussy, fuck you until you don’t have any tears left, pump you full of my cum and fucking breed you?” He spanks you, making you jerk and squeak, “You want to be my omega?”

You nod shakily and reach down, weakly attempting to unbutton his pants but he swats you away. With his feet planted firmly on the ground, he takes control and moves you roughly over his dick. You let out a high-pitched squeal, knees pressing into the cushion of the seat as you try to right yourself, but it’s feeble against his strength.

“You want my cock so bad that you’ll just pull it out without my permission?” Steve’s stomach tightens as the tears trail down your cheeks, slipping into the corners of your parted mouth. “Thought you’d know better now.”

You grab onto his wrists, piercing his skin with your nails, “I-It’s too much!” Your cry.

“It’s not enough.” He grabs your throat, not tight enough to restrict airflow but firm enough to let you know he can, and it only makes you greedier. You try to meet his grinds but you’re just bouncing on his lap.

“D-Daddy, I can’t.”

“You can.” He insists, getting closer to the edge. He imagines your tight hole clenched around his cock as he stuffs his knot into you. “You can, and you will.”

You weep, “...can’t.”

Steve has always loved a little challenge and he knows you’re an omega who hoped for more, who craved for more—and it was ultimately intriguing. To tame the feisty attitude bubbling inside of you, the same flicker he sees when he speaks again. “You can’t come.”

Your eyes shoot open, a torn and angry expression on your face, “But—”

“Shush now, baby.” He groans, cheeks flushed red as his whole body tenses, and he never stops moving you over him. “I said make a mess, I didn’t say you could come. Tell me you want to be mine.”

“Daddy, please—” You whimper, the tightness in your belly becoming too much.

Steve swats your ass harshly, “fucking say it.”

Your cunt throbs between your thighs, the denim has rubbed you raw, “I-I want to be yours, daddy.”

Steve groans gutturally, his back arches as his eyes flutter shut. Throaty praises ring in your ears, his hold is so tight that they’ll be bruises tomorrow. His muscles flex, his abs, biceps and thick thighs under you, and you can feel his cock swell up under your core. His knot is going to waste and you whine.

Steve's hair falls against his forehead as he looks at you, blue eyes full of bliss and perhaps even devotion—he’s beautiful and evil.

You sniffle quietly, feeling his warm cum seeping through the denim. “You’re so mean…”

Steve’s chest heaves, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Thought we already established that, baby?”

The open air is exactly what you need as you limp down the path with your clothes in your arms, some girls can’t help but stare at you. In envy or pity, they watch your uneven steps. They’re all still wearing their costumes, the evening breeze isn’t kind to their exposed skin. You stand out like a sore thumb, clad in Steve’s t-shirt and his sweatpants. Your poor folds gaining a bit of much-needed relief.

Some of the other pledges are talking—you know it’s about you despite how quiet they try to be.

They know, everyone in the house knew what happened in Steve’s bedroom. And some of the other girls were either jealous or sorrowful. You were unsure about your own feelings too, since you’re still teetering on the edge of that omega headspace because Steve couldn’t stop touching your gland.

In particular, the Arcadia alphas were as shameless as ever. They clapped and cheered when you wobbled down the stairs with Steve on your tail.

“Legacy deserves a gold star for that performance.”

“I’m going to knock your teeth in if you don’t shut up, Bryce.” Steve spits as he pulls you to the kitchen, grabbing a cold water bottle from the fridge.

Bucky whistles lowly, “And thus, the innate need to be an asshole after getting with an omega. Don’t you all wish there were more omega pledges, fellas?”

Steve ignores him in favour of gathering snacks from the cabinets and shelves. And, for the rest of the day, you sit on his lap in his clothes, watching the other pledges sweat and scrub at the whole house.

He relaxes on the couch, one of his hands never leaving your body as he speaks to his brothers, petting and tending to you like a doll, “Perhaps little legacy is Kappa Phi material, huh, baby?”

You don’t look back once, forcing yourself to stare ahead as Wanda asks how you’re feeling, among other things. You’ll tell her when you’re at your dorm and far away from Arcadia Phi.

Steve watches from the front door of the frat house, his arms crossed as the breeze brushes his bare skin, the band of his sweatpants hanging dangerously low. Behind him, his frat brothers are discussing names of the pledges, yours pops up more than a few times and is followed by a lewd comment.

“Our sister sorority, too. You’re freakier than I thought, punk.” Bucky steps beside him, a little apron in his hands.

“I wonder if I should tell our parents about his risqué behaviour.” Another voice says as an arm swings around Steve’s shoulder, “What do you think, little brother? Will mom and dad return you?”

Steve shrugs off Ransom, glaring at him. “I’m older than you, dipshit, and that’s not how adoption works.”

“Blah, blah, blah. All I’m hearing is the sound of an overdue glorified housepet.” He teases while the blond just scoffs.

They’ve been this way since they met, their relationship was strong from the beginning but that didn’t lessen any of the bickering or fights that every other sibling has. The only difference was their resilience yet they had odd similarities in terms of behaviour and attitude. Both being headstrong and fearless alphas. It was a wonder how they had lasted this long while constantly sharing a circle of friends.

“Although, I must acknowledge your exquisite taste because that sweet girl,” Ransom points down the street, “is on every alpha and beta—probably some wild omegas too—radar.”

“Surprised she hasn’t been claimed yet.” Curtis speaks up, “actually, I’m shocked a lot of omegas here haven’t been mated.”

“Some of us have standards and most of those omegas have been strung through every bed on campus.” Ransom replies, grinning at his brother, “I admire our parallel preferences, Stevie, think I can take a go at legacy?”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, it seems that testosterone is still sky-high. I’ll ask you when you’ve had time to wind down, try out the hot tub, huh?” The brunet leaves with a wink and a slap on Steve’s shoulder, waltzing into the house and joining the discussion with the rest of the brothers.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, Mr. fuck-em-and-leave-em, but she doesn’t even like us,” Bucky laughs, “Much less you.”

“Not yet.” He licks his lips as your group disappears around a corner. The empty air still carries a thread of your scent, or maybe that’s just your soaked panties crumbled in his pocket.

He was already one of the gods of Howard College and he's going to be yours too.

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: well here it is ! the first part of captain's legacy and the first dark fic I've ever posted. mean!Steve just does something to me, and I have a feeling he'll be like that for a while. this is a dark fic, so we'll see how much fluff is in the future. the ending was supposed to be longer but I think it fits better in the next part and like my other series, this has no update schedule.

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

follow my sideblog and turn on the notifications so you can see whenever I post: @onsunnyside-fics in case if I discontinue my taglist.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠.

[lemonbarnes]

Time To Run

This is going to be a series… although I don’t know the length. It’s based off this request from a lovely nonnie.

Warnings: The first chapter is tame, setting the tone for what is to come. Currently the characters in this chapter are in high school but the next chapter they will be aged up to adults. I will post warnings for the next chapter when the time comes but if you read the request then you know that it will be 18+ only going forward.

Mob Boss! Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary | Scrawny Steve Rogers has been your best friend since elementary school. Despite his powerful mob boss of a father, known only to those as the King of New York, you’re his protector and confidante. As the time passes and your lives go different routes, the tables have turned and you need him to protect you.

“Leave him alone!”

The teen standing in front of Steve whipped around to face you, blood on his knuckles as he cracked his neck from side to side. He wasn’t much bigger than you but to the boy on the ground, he was considered a giant.

“Why do you care?” he hissed, his fingers curled back into a fist as he drew back his arm. “Teaching this punk some respect.”

Your best friend was pressed against the corner, struggling to get up as his eye was swollen shut. Furious at the sight, you shrugged your backpack from your shoulders quickly, wielding it in a wide circle as the heavy bag connected with the side of the attacker’s face so fast that he didn’t have time to react.

Keep reading

[lemonbarnes]

My vote is for There’s A Demon In Apartment 4B. Gotta love some naked Ari. 😍

👻 👻 Let's have some fun! 👻 👻

I have a problem. I can't decide what to work on and it's killing me creatively. I've got 5 autumn-themed WIPs that I've been doing and I want to focus on one and have it done by the end of the month. I'm unsure on which one to focus on so I'm going to put it to a vote.

I will focus on and finish one fic by October 8th but I need your help deciding which one! Below is a list of the five fics with a short synopsis for each along with pairing and if it's a one-shot vs serial fic.

You guys get to decide what it is you want to read!

By no means is this an "I'm dropping all the other fics" post. I'm just looking for direction so I can better focus on myself and finish one story before Halloween.

👻 Hotel California

Type: Oneshot

Pairing: Steve x Reader x Bucky, Stucky x Reader

Synopsis: Somewhere in the desert you stumble across a tiny town with a beautiful hotel. Of course, it's late and you check into the lavish Hotel California but nothing is as it seems in this place. Desires you didn't know exsisted surface quickly with their mysterious residents and their grand parties. There's only one problem with the Hotel California. You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.

👻 The Heartless Horsemen

Type: Serial

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Synopsis: The year is 1799 when James Barnes jilts Katrina Van Tassel, a woman who's much more than a wealthy merchant’s daughter. She's a witch and scorned by James sets a curse on him, a man who will live two lives as the Soldier riding every night through the forest in search of his heart and the man who can never love another for all eternity.

But that was more than a few centuries ago and now James "Bucky" Barnes lives in the town like a phantom, nobody is quite sure if the horsemen is real or not but many swear they've seen him. One day he meets you, it's serendipity at its finest and you immediately begin making the horsemen question if his heart was really gone at all. Even after learning his secret, you both seek to rid him of the curse and free his heart to love again.

👻 There's a Demon in Apartment 4B

Type: Oneshot

Pairing: Ari x Reader

Synopsis: There's a demon in apartment 4B. At least that's what people tell you, but you're a skeptic and brush their warnings off. Even with all the creeks, pops, and errant voices you manage to convince yourself that it's just old pipes, squeaky floors, and the settling of an older building. Its superstition. Demons don't exist so you're not afraid. So why is the literal man of your dreams standing at the base of your bed and why is he completely naked?

👻 Autumn Rut (Alpha Omega)

Type: Oneshot

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Synopsis: Your annual heat comes early and there are no suppressants that can stop it. You haven’t had the chance to talk to your new boyfriend of a few months Bucky about the prospect of helping you through your heat. When you call to cancel the date with him for that night he knows something’s wrong. So when he shows up to your apartment he catches one whiff of you and volunteers to help you through what is bound to be a week of hell.

👻 Fall Into You

Type: Serial

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Synopsis: Steve needs a vacation to unwind. So much media presence after the Snap was undone has left his nerves frazzled. Lucky for him Bucky canceled on you for the trip back to your hometown, leaving him to go along with you instead. Treating him to a true taste of normalcy that’s anything but normal, in a town where nobody knows who he is or at least they don’t care, it’s a vacation full of warm sweaters, hot cider, and fall shenanigans.

Vote by reply, reblog or send a raven. I'm not turning anon back on to keep myself safe so I'm sorry if that makes anyone upset. If you want your vote to stay private I won't reply publicly, just say you'd like to remain anonymous I have no problem with that.

👻Vote by September 20, 2021, at 12pm est.👻

[lemonbarnes]

Where It Stays (Part 1)

Pairing: Nomad Steve x Enhanced Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Snark, little angst, smut (18+ MINORS DNI)

Series Summary: Being on the run after the Avengers’ Civil War isn’t easy and, having had one too many clashes with Captain America, now Nomad, you decide it’s time to strike out on your own. One last op needs your experience and expertise, forcing you to not only stay but team up with Steve. Together, you infiltrate a biker gang to track weapon shipments that are ending up in enemy hands. Can the two of you find common ground in order to accomplish the mission or will your constant headbutting lead to total ruin?

A/N: Thank you to my lovely beta readers @liebs82 and @danneelsmain . All mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics .

You lay on the motel bed with your legs pulled up to your chest in a stretch and your head hanging off the end of the bed. The rerun of The Dick Van Dyke Show’s Walnut episode had you giggling, it was an excellent way to decompress after the difficult mission you had just completed. You took a deep breath as you heard Steve emerge from the bathroom. 

“What are you doing?” Steve’s snarky tone grating your nerves. 

“Relaxing. Ever heard of it?” 

“Why are you upside down? And what the hell are you watching?” Steve stares at the tv as Laura Petrie slides out of a closet on a wave of walnuts. 

“Why do you care?” You roll to a sitting position.

“Is this an episode of The Twilight Zone?” Steve asks, tilting his head as he watches the antics on the television. 

You snort and roll your eyes, “Dick Van Dyke Show.”

“What the hell is happening?” Steve’s confusion is amusing to watch. 

“His thumbs were stolen by walnut loving aliens who have eyes in the back of their heads.” The bewildered look on his face was comical and you couldn’t resist covertly snapping a picture with your phone. 

“Wait, what?” Steve questions, slightly confused. 

“It’s a dream episode,” you laugh as you turn the picture into a meme to send to Natasha and Sam who are back at your current safe house. Being on the run for the last few months hadn’t been easy for them but you were all wanted criminals now. The nomadic lifestyle didn’t bother you as much as the others, it was how you’d lived most of your adult life. You had undergone experimentation with a fracture group and had come out on the other side with many of the same abilities as Steve. Increased speed, strength, healing, metabolism, and more came at the cost of ever going back to your old life, not that there was much to go back to. When you had discovered the group you were working with had nefarious intentions for their assets,you had become a SHIELD agent. With your insider knowledge, SHIELD was able to take them down. After that, you had flown under the radar as a spy and assassin. That was until the massive data dump Natasha had perpetrated. You were exposed as an enhanced agent and circumstances forced you to seek out the Avengers when talks began for the Sokovian Accords. Steve had always seemed frustrated with your reluctance to join the Avengers in the few run-ins you’d had with the team but had accepted when Clint brought you in to fight on his side of the civil war.

“What the fuck? Really?” Steve grouses holding up his phone. You realize you had accidentally sent his photo to your team group text rather than to the one with just Nat and Sam. 

“Couldn’t pass up the opportunity,” you snort. 

“Erase it.”

“It’s been disseminated. Pretty pointless to delete it,” you shrug.

Steve shakes his head. That fucking shrug and the snark were always your way and it drove him crazy. Your first meeting was just before the fall of SHIELD happened. You literally dropped into the middle of a mission and traded a few blows with Natasha before revealing yourself. Steve had stared at the woman Natasha referred to as Nym, short for your call name, Mnemosyne. You had stood in front of the group in a tac suit and a mask that covered the lower half of your face, similar to the one Bucky had worn as the WInter Soldier. Your eyes had mesmerized him until you opened your mouth. The immediate sass that came out made him feel both intrigued and annoyed, but the annoyance grew with each meeting. You never let your guard down around him. It was always wisecracks and shoulder shrugs. He had tried everything he could think of to get you to open up to him but your walls stayed up and his frustration grew. “Why are you like this?” 

“Oh my God, it’s just a joke. Don’t be such a bitch about it,” You roll your eyes and get up to adjust the thermostat. When you turn around, Steve is in your face.

“Did you just call me a bitch?”

“Sure did, sweetcheeks. Now get out of my way. I’m going to bed.”

“What the hell is with you all the time?” Steve growls.

“I’ve been stuck with your bitchy ass for months,” you sneer.

Steve takes a step forward, bringing you toe to toe. You refuse to give any ground and stare him down until he finally asks the question that has haunted him, “Why?”

“We’re kinda wanted criminals,” you snark. 

“No. Why did you follow me? Why did you fight on my side of this?”

You’re worn down and staring into Steve’s face, you find the truth slipping past your lips, “Because you were right.”

“What?” Steve’s look of disbelief almost hurts but you shake the feeling away.

“You were right. I don’t want another World Security Council. I don’t want the UN making the decisions of what we can and can’t do. Where we go. Who we help. Who we save. Whose lives are worth the most in their skewed view of the world. Having a registry of enhanced individuals is dangerous. I…” you lick your lips and debate admitting the next part but give in to this momentary transparency, “I admired the Avengers. What the team stood for. And-”

“And?” Steve tilts his head as he studies you. 

“I admired you standing up for Wanda and Bucky. For all of us. Your stance kept us from being pawns in political games. And, for once, I wasn’t alone in something.” Your stomach drops as the words leave your mouth. You had admitted more than you ever meant to and looking up at Steve’s stoic demeanor was disconcerting. You couldn’t read him. You opened your mouth to make a smartass remark to break the tension but Steve’s fingers cover your mouth. 

“Don’t,” he says as if he read your mind. “Just this once, don’t.” His hand slides down to gently caress your neck and then he’s kissing you. You’re shocked at first but then it seems as if you both just melt into each other. Months of tension break and you’re tearing off each other’s clothes as fast as you can. 

Your foreheads are pressed together as he enters you. It's been so long that both of you get lost in the pleasure. His thrusts into you are pure bliss and your warmth surrounding him is nothing short of heaven. It was a primal, nearly feral race to orgasm. When you arch into him, crying out as the waves crash over, he gives a hoarse cry and empties himself into you. 

You lay together, unmoving as you recover. When Steve’s hips begin to make slow circles, you realize how hard he still is. You roll him to his back and begin to ride him. Throwing your head back, you run your hands over your body as you revel in the feeling of his thick cock. He grips your hips and thrusts up into you. Your mouth parts letting out sharp exclamations with each one. Steve’s thumb finds your clit and the swift circles he makes sends you over the edge again. Steve sits up, pulling you into a kiss. You wrap your arms around each other, mouths melded together, and just feel each other as your hips continue their slow circles. 

You get lost in it, lost in him. All thoughts faded into the background and you lived for the connection of your bodies. The slow, sensual way he moved against you. The kisses are full of a tenderness you'd never experienced. The pleasure he gave so freely. You immerse yourself in it, forgetting everything else. And so did he. 

Hours later, Steve is sleeping soundly when you silently slip out of the bed. You go to the bathroom, put your clothes back on, and get in the empty bed that was originally where he was supposed to sleep. You had never gotten used to sleeping in the bed with another person. You had never gotten used to being a part of a team. Glancing at his sleeping form one last time, you curl up alone in the cold bed and fall into a fitful sleep. 

--

“Rogers, wake up! Come on, we gotta go,” you rattle the bed with your foot to emphasize your words. 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks. 

“I’m not sure. Nat just said we needed to get back. Come on. Grab your stuff and let’s go,” you turn for the door and grab the keys to the battered truck you were driving. You coax the engine to life and Steve tosses his bag in before hefting himself into the seat.

“We gonna talk about it?” He asks as you haul ass out of the motel parking lot. 

“Nothing to talk about. Literally, Nat called and said ‘Get on the road.’ What more do you want?” You shrug. 

“That’s not- nevermind. Are we going to the safe house?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine, I’m going back to sleep,” Steve crosses his arms and leans against the door of the truck. 

You roll your eyes. It was going to be a long, quiet ride.

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[lemonbarnes]

Concrete Jungle

Drug Lord Ransom Drysdale x Female Thief

Word Count: 1,098

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Drug use, language, gun use, murder, implied blowjob and past smut, stalking. This is a dark fic!

Summary | Stealing from Ransom Drysdale was almost too easy. It’s a shame he’s going to make you pay.

Pressing a finger to your nostril, you inhale the white, straight line through the rolled up hundred dollar bill, lifting your head as you sniff.

“Did you take it all?” Whitney asks, your sly smile giving her the answer. “You crazy bitch.”

“The term,” you begin, before you lean down to inhale the second line as you tap your nose. “Is cunning. Like Drysdale would even notice.”

In truth, no one expected him to be there, let alone let people sample what he was selling. A god among men, Ransom Drysdale is revered.

Respected.

Whatever possessed you to steal from him, you’ll never know but you eye the brick that sticks out from your purse, Whitney’s nervous smile coming back into focus. She won’t tell you that she wants you to give it back. To apologize.

You don’t apologize for stealing from Ransom.

You fucking disappear.

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