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#ive been laughing about this so i had to go draw it. here you go

dizzybizz · 5 months

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hai here is a sketch dump with too many fandoms :) sorry about the ungodly amount of men here i have been going through it and by it i mean gay

ok wait i ran out of tags??? it wont let me tag them all😭😭😭 im gonna have to be sparing with them uhh i guess i will have to ramble under the cut then cus i like rambling in my tags but i cant with this one 😭

(ok im back from the ramble: it is way too long.... proceed forward if you want to see some guy just absolutely talk nonsense for entirely too long)

no cus i swear i have tried tagging more stuff than this before and never hit the limit but whatever

hello i really use this like a fkn blog huh

i just wanted to provide some thoughts on the harper and rosé one first bc its important to me 😌 cus i was thinking abt harper and how in my head and heart of hearts she would be the kid who thought you get pregnant from kissing and i dont think she ever really grew out of that belief. <- this ended up spawning the idea of harper being a sex-repulsed ace and i will die on this hill actually. fight me or die, you die either way actually nvm

this is just a buncha blorbos i dont know what to tell you really. sketch pages like these always end up so weird for me bc for some reason my brain always wants the characters in them to interact in some way. whether that be talking or just reacting to what the other is doing... its something i cant stop with, its so stupid and silly and i hate it and i love it. where else would i see kabru slowly losing his mind with how loud phoenix wright is in court????

I THOUGHT I HAD GOTTEN OFF THE RAILS WITH THAT BUT THEN THE NEXT PAGE HAPPENED. and all i could do was laugh and ask "what the fuck am i drawing??? HOW DID WE GET HERE? WHY IS THISTLE HERE WITH LEOPIKA HELP" LIKE that page started with the big leopika and then i was like "man i miss thistle lemme draw him real quick" but the curse struck and now hes being homophobic so </3

i rlly like how the nic(k) page turned out ... i just have a lot of nicks i like drawing idk.. the lil guy is an oc,,, one day his ref sheet will be finished and itll be awesome but not for now, sorry baby, no can do. im weirdly happy with how the hands turned out for all of them tho?? so thats a W

yotasuke, murai, nick (youll never know which one im referring to. .. jkjk its hoult i love the pose there ehehhe), nic and the entire last page r my favs. i like em all but those rlly get me yknow- the olly too ofc but ive already posted him, dont mind him being here, hes part of the set. AND OVER ALL IVE BEEN HAVING SO FUN WITH SHADING BLACK AND JUST LEAVING SPOTS BLANK ITS SO ?`????

WHY IS THIS SO LONG PLS DONT READ ALL THIS THIS IS STRAIGHT UP EMBARRASSING AGHSDFGSDHJSGD im all like "yeah i dont like talking about myself or whatever" but as soon as i get to my process or blorbos or smth the floodgates fucking break open, not even burst man.

also dont mind how i havent even acknowledged pingas twink pokemon counterpart. hes just here for shits and giggles i dont know the guy like at all, i watched a handful of eps of horizons and that was it RIP

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evansbby · 1 year

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𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

part iv - just like animals

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

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

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

Series Masterlist

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

Pregnant.

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

You’re pregnant. With Steve’s baby.

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

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

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

“Where did you go?”

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

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

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

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

“Y-Yeah.”

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

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

How he’d cheated on you.

How you’d begged him not to leave you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

“H-Hello? Peter?”

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

“Oh my God. Are you okay?!”

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

“I’m… I…Peter, I…”

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“JUST SHUT UP!”

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

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

“Please! It hurts!”

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

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

“Fine. Suit yourself, omega slut.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Th-They wouldn’t let me in.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Bullshit.”

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

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

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

“Don’t fucking joke with her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would he leave you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

“Omega. Answer me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t hate you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t drive me away–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll leave me.”

“I won’t.”

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

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

“Mark me too.”

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

You don’t know what to say.

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

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

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

“Make me yours.” He repeats.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve isn’t here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Should you trust him?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh-What? No, I wasn’t–”

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

“No–”

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

“Steve, no–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was the alpha losing control?

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“STOP!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know!”

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

“I DON’T KNOW!”

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

“I wouldn’t hit you.”

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Omega?”

“Yes, Steve?”

“I’m sorry. For all of it.”

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

***

“He’s not in his room, Steve.”

“I don’t fucking care.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve leaves without another word.

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

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

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

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

It’s you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that it matters right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve, I’m pregnant.”

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

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

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

“You’re pregnant?” He repeats.

“Yes, I am.”

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

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

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

Proud. He’s proud. Proud of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes pop open, “Wh-What?”

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

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

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

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

You squirm, “Y-Yes?”

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

“Y-Yes, you can drink it.”

Another pinch. “Say it properly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And maybe – just maybe – he does mean it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow harshly, “P-Please.”

“Please what, sweet girl?”

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

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

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

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

“Alpha please!” You mewl softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Marry me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” You whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“HEY!”

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

“Peter! What are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, Peter–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Peter, no, I–”

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

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

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

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

#chris evans #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #dark chris evans #bucky barnes #mcu

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jinxhallows · 7 months

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kinktober #oo8 | the doctor is in

KINKTOBER 2023 || jinxhallows the doctor is in (medical play) || chan x fem!reader summary: you and chan have been together for a while and decide to explore something more outside the box in regards to intimacy. he's always thought your former job as a nurse was fascinating, and the idea of a hot nurse was always a sexy concept to him; but now, its chan's turn to play doctor, and he’s done his research in full, and takes to his role a little too well… warnings: medical play, and all that entails, without revealing too much - including medical instruments, gynecological based scenes, description/plot heavy, I purposefully saved this for the 8th entry because it’s kinky on the border of off putting to some folx, I wanted you to be familiar with how far I push limits in my work by digesting the previous entries first, if you do not like it, skip it, established relationship, 'good girl' and 'good girl' adjacent pet names, non-idol AU

word count: 3.7k masterlist - click here

"Do you remember when we talked about trying out that doctor roleplay?" you inquire, gently setting the cardboard box on the table. The solid thud of its weight makes Chan wince. Leaning across the table, you give him a quick kiss.

As you pull back, Chan opens his eyes and asks, "Yeah? Why do you bring it up now? What's on your mind?"

"I've decided to bring some work home this time."

You begin unpacking the supplies, starting with a box of syringes with securely attached needles. Then, you reveal a pack of sterilized hemostats, along with packs of gauze, bandages, catheters (both IV and urinary), and various other medical instruments. While these items are familiar to you from your former career as a nurse, Chan has never encountered such materials outside of a doctor's office, and some of them are entirely new to him.

But Chan does remember the vivid conversation you had, especially after your last check-up when you excitedly shared your detailed ideas.

It was something he had never heard of at the time—medical play?

"So, basically like...playing doctor?" Chan leaned back in his chair, interlocking his fingers behind his head.

"Kind of. But this time, I want to make it more immersive, by actually using real supplies," you explain. Your eyes briefly drift to his veiny forearm and back to his eyes, but you're not subtle enough, and he catches your glance, lowering his arms.

"I remember now," he says, his face lighting up with a humorous recollection as he continues, "Back when you first started in the Emergency, you kept saying you wanted to draw my blood, claiming I'd be an easy poke."

You're about to offer a retort, but he stops you with a raised finger, a mischievous grin spreading across his lips as he starts laughing at the thought. After a moment, he takes a breath, turning somewhat serious.

"If we do this, I get to go first."

You're relieved at his enthusiasm. It's certainly an unusual request, but by now, Chan is well-acquainted with your eccentricities.

"What do you mean? As the patient or the doctor?"

"The Doctor, of course," Chan says, slowly turning in his chair. He forms an imaginary TV screen with his hands in front of his face. "Yeah, I can see it now." The chair completes its 360-degree turn, bringing him back to face you as he concludes,

"Dr. Bang will see you now."

As you meticulously unpack the box, your boyfriend's hand reaches over, picking up a container of 25g needles, and he studies it with intense curiosity. His leg bounces nervously beneath the table.

"On a scale of one to a serious medical emergency, how likely are we to kill each other tonight?" he quips, his eyes lifting from the box, a dubious brow raised in question.

"As long as we steer clear of sharps to start with, we’ll be alright."

“We’ll be alright,” Chan scoffs with a laugh. He cracks a grin as he opens the box between his hands and extracts one of the capped needles, spinning it between his fingers. With a swift, deft 'crack,' he twists it open and removes the cap, revealing the sharp, fine needle underneath. He gives it another once-over before turning his gaze back to you. He's pondering deeper now, his eyes tracing down to the sliver of skin peeking out from your silk robe, stopping at the upper thigh.

"I don't even wanna know how you got a'hold of all of this."

Chan caps the needle and carefully sets it back down on the table. He recognizes that admitting a desire like this was a vulnerable thing for you, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious himself ever since you first had mentioned it. One night, when you were out, he threw the term you taught him into a porn site—medical play—and watched, wide eyed and bricked up from all the scenes he began to discover.

You trust him, you've said, to handle your body with care. You couldn't imagine letting anyone other than Chan partake in this experiment, and once he gets past the initial discomfort of potentially messing up, you're certain he'll take excellent care of you.

Because that's just Chan's nature.

"Well then, shall we?" He rises from his seat, wrapping a reassuring arm around your waist beneath your robe, pulling your body close to his. Your naked skin brushes against the fabric of his clothes as he plants a gentle kiss on your lips. "I need to change first. Can you give me a few minutes?"

You respond with a light, airy snort. “You’re gonna change your clothes? You’re really dedicated, huh?”

"I mean, personally, I wouldn't want a doctor in boardies, a singlet, and thongs anywhere near me with a scalpel. Wouldn't be very professional now, would it?" Chan says as he heads towards the bottom of the stairs, kicking off his house shoes. The sound of his bare footsteps fades as he ascends the stairs, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You nibble on the inside of your lower lip, feeling a touch of nervousness. You expected more resistance from him, but not only is he going along with it, it seems like he's enjoying the idea.

You pack everything back into the box and hurry upstairs to the bedroom. You grab a folding table from storage and unfold it, providing a surface for the tools of the trade for tonight. One by one, you lay out the supplies. Both of you are uncertain about what this experience will be like, or if you'll even enjoy it, so you've gathered a variety of items. Feeling apprehensive about making incisions? Opt for a needle. If you're new to poking, avoid breaking the skin and use a blunt medical tool instead. If things get a little too intense, there are bandages, staplers, and skin glue to the rescue. There are so many options here; surely, there's something that Chan will feel comfortable using.

As you arrange the table neatly, you can't help but imagine the sensual sensation of each item against your skin. You set everything up for easy access, lost in your thoughts, when you suddenly hear the door creak open behind you.

You turn around to find your very own Christopher Bang standing there, fastening his watch. The sleeves of his white collared shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing firehose veins that run up his arms like the roots of a sturdy tree. It makes you wish you were the one in charge tonight.

The thought of drawing blood from him is undeniably enticing.

Chan, dressed impeccably in a white button-down tucked into dark pants, fits the part perfectly. The desire to clear the table and let him have his way with you right there and then crosses your mind.

"Fuck me," you mutter under your breath.

He chuckles. "Maybe later, but for now, have a seat for me?" He taps the edge of the bed and settles into the office chair that used to belong at his computer desk, now strategically positioned next to your makeshift doctor's examination bed. Chan busies himself with the satisfying snap of pulling on his gloves, casting his eyes over the array of instruments spread out on the table. He inspects each object before swiveling the chair to face you, a confident smile gracing his features. His gloved hands dangle between his legs, fingers intertwined.

"So, Y/N, I'm Dr. Bang, and I'm the doctor on call tonight.” He lifts his wrist to glance at his watch before his eyes meet yours again, “It's pretty late, though. Care to tell me what's going on?"

His act is so convincing that you blink twice, half-expecting him to break character at any moment, dissolve into laughter, and physically cringe. But Chan smoothly glides closer, planting both hands on your knees. Your breath catches in your throat.

“Hey, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to tonight, yeah? You still up for this?” He checks in with you, and his sincerity reassures you that he's the right person to explore this with.

“Of course, I just didn’t expect you to take it so seriously.”

“You trust me, and I take that very seriously.” He runs his hands up and down the silky expanse of your thighs, his smile revealing a tiny dimple. "Go ahead and lie back for me." He rises as you recline onto the bed, and he attentively adjusts your robe, ensuring your modesty. Chan gently tugs the fabric closed over your body, all the while looking down at you with genuine affection. "Not a fan of doctor's visits, are you? You seemed nervous earlier, but are you experiencing any discomfort right now?" He starts applying gentle pressure around the perimeter of your abdomen. His touch feels eerily authentic, causing you to briefly forget this is a role-play scenario.

"I am," you confess, observing him as he focuses on the area just below your navel. A sharp sensation shoots through you, making you gasp involuntarily, a sound that surprises both of you. Chan momentarily halts, clearly caught off guard, before reestablishing eye contact with you. "Did that hurt?" He presses again, and you instinctively cover your mouth, stifling your reaction.

"Hey," Chan tenderly grasps your wrist, guiding your hand away from your mouth, "I'm not a vet. I need my patients to use their words, so I can provide the best care."

"It's right below where you pressed, Doctor; it just...it's uncomfortable right now, like–an ache. It’s hard to explain.” you say, barely managing to articulate in a roleplay appropriate way that you're getting hornier by the second and can swear your pussy has its own heartbeat at this point.

"Below, like... here?" Chan's gloved right hand moves an inch lower, hovering right above your soft, puffy pubis. He's teasing, and his mischievous grin gives it away.

"Lower," you reply with a sultry undertone, encouraging his exploration.

Chan's fingers press against your warmth, causing your hips to rise against his touch. He immediately stops and wheels himself backward to a nearby table laden with an array of medical equipment. You lift your head, peering over your chest to see what he's up to. Sensing your curious eyes on him, he looks over at you, his hand resting on a packaged instrument that remains elusive from your vantage point on the bed.

A chuckle escapes his lips. This was what you wanted, wasn't it? Well, now he's getting into the role-play more than he expected. The clinical setting, the pristine, sterile instruments, and your presence in that beautiful black silk robe, waiting with bated breath and those wide, enchanting eyes – it all triggers a surge of power in Chan that he didn't anticipate. Not like this, at least.

"So, when did you first notice the pain?"

“When you came in the fucking room.”

Chan laughs softly. "You're not very good at this," he remarks, picking up a stethoscope and draping it around his neck. "Let's start with some basics since you're a bit anxious. I'll ease you into it."

His tone conveys an underlying promise, and you watch as he leans over your body, slipping his hand beneath the fabric of your robe, the cool stethoscope head making contact with your skin. As soon as you feel the gloved fingers on your body, you sense your nipples hardening against the silk fabric. Chan notices too as he listens, although he's uncertain what he's searching for, his brow furrowed as he shifts the stethoscope over slightly, catching the rapid increase in your heartbeat.

He likes being able to hear the effect he has on you.

Chan removes the stethoscope from his ears, placing it around his neck again. "You've got a strong ticker!" he remarks with a smile, closing your robe as professionally as a real doctor. "Now, open up for me,"

You blink at him, an immediate desire to spread your legs rising within you, but you obediently open your mouth instead as he places a thermometer underneath your tongue. You hold it firmly in place.

"Good girl. Keep this up, and I might reward you with a lollipop later." The thermometer beeps, and he removes it, sitting back down in his chair and rolling over to the table. "Ninety-nine point six, perfect. See? Nothing to be afraid of." He picks up a nearby pen and scribbles something down on a notepad, then proceeds to examine the various instruments, silently evaluating each one.

What was he going to do to you? Was he going to poke you with a needle? Give you an enema? You’d give anything to be inside of his brain right now and know what he’s plotting.

“Chris—“

"Ah, ah, ah," he tuts, raising a finger into the air, still deciding his next move.

You stop yourself, close your eyes, and take a deep breath.

"Dr. Bang," you say, emphasizing his title with respect.

"Hmm?" He responds, much more content with the formal address than his first name.

"What exactly... are you planning to do to me today?"

To your dismay, he spins around toward you, holding a chosen instrument—a metal speculum. Out of all things? Does he even know how to work it?

You swallow hard, the thought of him meddling with your insides making you squirm internally. But you play your part. You're in an examination.

“I'm here to make you feel better; it's my job. I'll need to take a good look inside to determine why you’re in so much discomfort.”

You watch and wait for him to ask you how to open the sterilized package. Instead, he deftly peels it open from the top and holds the speculum over a green surgical drape on a nearby metal tray with a muffled clang, tossing the packaging aside. He can sense your disbelief in your expression as he looks back up at you.

"How did you-"

"Yeah, so you know how people say your phones are always listening to you?" Chan slides his chair back until he's positioned right between your legs, and the sheer confidence in his movement reminds you of the residents you've assisted on numerous occasions. It's undeniably turning you on.

"Yeah?" you reply.

"Well, ever since we first discussed it, my algorithm's gone haywire," he says, shaking his head with a sigh, his elbow resting on his thigh. "It takes a truly special person to do this kind of work." He taps the edge of the bed as he speaks, and you shift up so your hips rest on the edge, your legs hanging off.

"That being said," Chan hooks his arms underneath your legs' crooks, lifting them up so your feet lie flat on the bed, spread open. Your robe is far from sufficient to keep you from being exposed. The swiftness of his motion sends a breeze across your most intimate area, letting you know just how aroused he's gotten you with minimal contact. You can hear the click of the lid on the lube as he coats his fingers.

“You'll feel my fingers first, and then a little cold and some pressure, alright?"

His voice is soothing, and you exhale, saying, "Alright," your hands folded on your stomach.

"Take a deep breath for me," You feel his fingers first, just as he promised. Two gloved digits slide inside you, and your gasp is nearly reflexive as you clench around them when he curls them upwards, caressing that special spot. "That's it, keep breathing, relax," he instructs.

As he guides you into a state of calm with his slow and soothing words, you notice the change in temperature and texture as the cool metal speculum slides gently into you, not all the way, slowly stretching against your pulsing walls. Here you are, in your own bedroom, with Chan talking you through it, his palm resting on your inner thigh. His eyes switch between your glistening core and your furrowed brows, and your slow panting. He’s waiting for you to fold, to tell him to stop, that this is too much. But you don’t.

Chan secures the device in place, creating an opening that's not too wide but still provides him with better access than he's ever had before. And you're willingly letting it happen.

He checks in on you, discreetly adjusting the front of his pants to make room for the tent he was pitching. "How are you feeling?"

"It feels different than it usually does," you remark, your tummy fluttering with a chuckle, dispelling any lingering tension.

"Yeah? Different in what way?" His hand vanishes between your thighs as he slides his fingers back inside you, and this time, he stands over you, studying your reactions while his other hand moves beneath your navel.

"I mean, usually I don't expect my doctor to—" You cut yourself off with a moan as he presses both inside you and firmly on top of you simultaneously.

At that moment, Chan decides that he absolutely loves this.

"What was that?" he asks, as if that moment hadn’t happened.

"I usually don't expect my doctors to... well, you know," you say.

God, you were such a freak.

Did he turn you on that much? That you’d let him do this to you? Does he have that much of a hold on you?

“This is where it hurts?”

“Y-Yeah.”

He really doesn’t need you to say it. He knows you want him to rail you, as if your expressons aren’t enough; he can feel your walls yearning to close around something, anything, so desperately.

The anticipation of what it would feel like to remove the speculum and have your tightness engulf him as it shrinks back sends a shiver down his spine.

He tugs at the crotch of his pants again.

"How about when I do this?" He starts a gentle but confident massage of your abdomen, and your hips slowly begin to rotate, pleading for more pressure. You can’t move much, the device forcing your movements to remain minute, lest it become uncomfortable.

"Feels–" you curl your fingers into the sheets, the pressure from the speculum inside you battling with your natural urge to clench around nothing, stealing your breath.

Chan captures your lips with his own. "Does that feel good?"

"Mhm," you nod, feeling his hand slipping between your legs again, accompanied by the sounds of his belt buckle being undone as he kisses you once more, both of you breathless. This must’ve been turning him on too, and now, you can hear it and feel it in the stiff, swollen head of his cock leaking against the warmth of your inner thigh as he disengages the metal spacer, it feels far warmer than it did going in, and you sigh as it leaves your body, but before you can register the emptiness left behind, Chan’s warm, girth replaces the foreign object, and you both groan in tandem with the feeling.

“Fuck, babe,” He breathes at the sensation. Your pussy is so hungry for him, the way you swallow him up is unholy. And as he pulls his hips back and snaps them into you again, he’s certain you’ve never been this wet before, ever.

“Oh god, finally,” Your eyes roll back into your head, knees pushed back, your robe now fully splayed open, with the most perfect visuals of your tits, Chan leans forward and you wrap your legs around his waist, “I think I figured out what’s wrong,” he whispers, the ends of his stethoscope dangling onto your bare skin, “Want me to make you feel better baby?” He begins thrusting into you, “Is that why it was hurting? Hm? Because you needed me to fill you up?”

“Yeah, yeah I did—needed you–so bad–doctor, god I–fuck Chan I–love you–I-”

You don’t even make any sense and you resort to a breathless laugh as your teeth chatter with a sharp inhale.

“Aw, my babygirl, you’re a mess. It’s worse than I thought.” Chan chuckles and has to pause to regain his composure. Pulling the stethoscope off, he tosses it aside and lifts the hem of his dress shirt, holding it between his teeth as he thrusts into you, now able to watch how you paint his cock with your juices every time he disappears inside of you. His lower abs flex and contract with each stroke, while muffled, elongated groans escape through clenched teeth. His palm presses down on that spot beneath your tummy again, and he feels your body clenching under his touch as he thrusts even deeper, he wants to feel himself inside of you, each movement of your hips daring him to split you in half entirely.

Your vision becomes hazy, and you struggle to concentrate beneath drooping eyelids, on the verge of being overwhelmed by sensations. You move your mouth, but words won't form, only heavy sighs and gasps provoked by his every move as if you were his puppet. If you could form coherent thoughts, you'd be thanking him for reminding your lungs to breathe, enabling you to catch your breath at all.

Now, you're climaxing, and it takes him by surprise. A choked, guttural groan escapes his throat as the wet end of his shirt falls from between his teeth, thin streams of drool trickling down his chin as he climaxes just moments after yours. The release leaves him feeling lightheaded, and he catches himself on his elbow, breathing heavily with his forehead pressed against yours. Your eyes are closed as you try to catch your own breath.

Chan's stamina surpasses yours, and his heavy breathing turns into soft laughter as he places his palm against your cheek. You laugh along with him; it's hard not to when Chan's laughing. It serves as a release that sends chills and butterflies through your stomach, having experienced something so exhilarating together.

Your fingers curl around his palm against your cheek as your eyes crinkle. "You've definitely done this before."

Chan sits next to you on the bed. “I haven’t, promise,” “Hm. You may have a future in theatre then.” “Think so? Maybe I can get famous and quit my shitty job.” He laughs leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. “Since you’re the one with the medical background, I wouldn’t be against you poking me next time.”

“Next time?”

“Oh yeah. You’ve got all those supplies. I’m just getting started.”

- fin

294 notes · View notes

zerobaselove · 6 months

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brain freeze | sung hanbin

pairing: frozen yogurt worker! hanbin x regular customer! reader

genre: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers ?? kinda ??

word count: 5067

warnings: none i don't think! lowercase intended, not proofread, or even read or written in one sitting truthfully

notes: thank u to tiff for convincing me to write this after our zb1 as part time workers conversation, it's honestly rlly rough but i like the concept so :]] i hope u guys like it,, especially since ive been mia </3

"welcome to cosmic swirls! our frozen yogurt is over on that wall there and the toppings are just to the right! you can come up here when you're all ready and i can ring you up!"

the cheerful boy at the front counter beamed at you as you walked through the front door of the new frozen yogurt shop in town, gesturing to the other side of the store. you gave him a smile and a small thank you as you followed the bright-coloured walls towards the frozen yogurt. after a long day at work, you couldn't help but give in to the temptation of trying the new sweet treats just across the street from your work.

the shop was lined with bright purple and blue paint and star decals, a wall filled with every topping you can imagine, and the plethora of flavours of frozen yogurt that lined where you stood. there was a faint hum of whatever tune was playing on the radio, and you could faintly hear the cute worker shuffling around at the counter. you honestly weren't expecting it to be so empty, but how many people were getting frozen yogurt on a thursday night, right?

"hmm," you wondered aloud, browsing the options in front of you, unable to decide on just one.

"i recommend the cotton candy!" the cute boy chimed up, watching as you admired the machines in front of you. "ooh, i like the sound of that," you smiled, grabbing a cup and filling it with the frozen dessert. you added a few simple toppings before walking over to the counter where the boy stood.

after ringing you up and paying for your treat, the boy, who you've noticed is named hanbin, judging by his name tag, speaks up. "hope you like my recommendation!" a wide smile crosses his face, gesturing to the pink and blue swirled frozen yogurt in your cup.

"and if i don't?" you teased, giving hanbin a mischievous grin. "well," he pondered for a moment, "then i owe you a new one! but i bet you'll love it, scouts honour!"

you let out a laugh at the boy with his hand up in the air, "well i'll keep you updated." you laughed again as you went to go sit down, scrolling through your phone as you tried the frozen yogurt, pleasantly surprised at how good it was. i guess that's why everyone's been talking about this place lately, you thought to yourself.

finishing up your treat, you threw out the cup and walked back to the counter, getting hanbin's attention. "so?" he started, a smile on his face as he waited to hear your review.

"hated it!" you said, joking around with the boy as a laugh passed your lips. he feigned offence, a hand coming to his chest dramatically as if you had personally struck his heart. "no way!! how could you!" the two of you burst into a fit of giggles, drawing the attention of the lone couple in the corner before covering your mouth with your palm.

calming down a bit, you continued, "guess i'll just have to come back and try a different flavour next time!" you insisted.

"i guess you will!"

and you did. in the coming weeks, you found yourself returning to the shop more times than you could consider normal. every time, trying a new flavour than before. had to give it all a shot right? even if some nights left you with a cup of half-eaten frozen yogurt or more toppings than dessert in an attempt to drown out a flavour you weren't particularly fond of.

what you had grown quite fond of though was the boy behind the counter. hanbin. over the weeks you had gotten to know hanbin a bit; often you were there late, one of the last people there at that time, which gave you two time to talk and get to know each other a bit.

what you had learned was that hanbin was a dancer outside of his daily employment. most of the time his paychecks went to different classes with teachers he admired. something about "wanting to learn from the best." you also learned that he had a small hamster plushie that he kept behind the counter with him, even got him a miniature apron that you could only imagine he stole from a small doll. but sometimes kids would come in and he'd show off his little friend, loving to watch the way they got excited over the worker hamster. it was cute. he was cute.

and with that thought clouding your brain like an all too familiar brain freeze, you walked through the familiar front doors yet again, the jingle of the bell signaling your entrance had become something you were sure you'd hear in your dreams.

"on time as usual," hanbin smiled at your familiar face, "what flavour are you going to try today?" he questioned as he watched you saunter over to the machines, grabbing a cup before staring them down. "is the coconut any good?"

"never tried it honestly," he said simply, leaving you shocked. it was the first flavour so far that he hasn't had, "heard it's good though! you'll have to let me know!" his usual smile plastered on his face, you once again end up mirroring his expression, "guess i'll have to get it then!"

you found yourself at what you considered your usual table now, the one closest to the front counter. you like to tell yourself it was because it was convenient but you know it was just so it was easier to talk to hanbin. but that wasn't a crime!

a few minutes had passed and hanbin found himself sitting with you at the table, a now regular occurrence when there were no other customers around. "how is it?"

you plunged the spoon into the dessert, holding it up to the boy, "give it a try," you hadn't really thought about the intimacy of your offer, but hanbin didn't give it a second thought as he took a bite off of your spoon, letting out a hum of approval. "not too bad." he said, covering his mouth.

like many other nights, the two of you let your conversations run freely, only stopping to glance at the time on your phone; 11:05.

"shit hanbin," you quickly stood up, grabbing your phone and cup, "i didn't mean to keep you past close. i'm sure you wanna go home after a long day." you can't help but shake your head at your innate ability to get lost in time.

he let out a chuckle at your sudden urgency, "hey no rush, i honestly like the company, it gets pretty lonely here at night." his reassurance helped calm your guilt for a moment, "plus there's not much left to do to close up." he stacked the final chairs, the ones you had been sat at, as he continued. "but it's getting late, you should be heading home, no?" he sounded almost worried at you being out so late, and your heart swelled a bit at the thought.

"yeah i probably should head back," you let out a small sigh at the idea of ending the night with hanbin, "sorry again hanbin, and please get home safe." you gave him a sheepish smile as you turned on your heel to leave.

"make sure you get home safe too! what would i do without my favourite customer?" he joked, not knowing the way your heart skipped a beat at being called his favourite.

you were running out of excuses, or rather flavours; reasons to be at the frozen yogurt shop as much as you were.

"what are you gonna do when there's nothing new to try?" hanbin laughed, watching as you had narrowed it down to your last few choices of untouched flavours.

"die, maybe." you say nonchalantly, earning a laugh from the boy at the counter, finding your dramatics endearing. "you could just try every combination of flavours with every topping." hanbin suggested, a smug smile on his face.

you laughed, shaking your head, "hanbin that would take forever."

"and?" he questioned, "just means more time with me!"

he did have a good point, as silly as the idea sounded. you'd honestly do anything to give you an excuse to hang out with the boy more. except actually asking him out, of course.

what you didn't know was that despite the jokes, hanbin was honestly hoping you would take the idea somewhat seriously. one or two more guaranteed visits did not sound like enough time for him to finally gain the courage to ask you out, or even to get your number, so he felt like he needed all the time he could get.

you weren't the only one who had grown fond of your frequent visits. you had quickly become the thing hanbin looked forward to every week. it had only been a few months of small chats across counters and plastic tables, but hanbin could've sworn he was falling for you, at least in some capacity.

so instead of either of you asking the other out, you just sat together again like every visit, giggling and talking about anything and everything, sometimes even sharing bites of your dessert as you rambled on about an interaction at work that day. it was the least you could give him for listening to your rants.

instead of leaving when you were finished, you took it upon yourself to help with stacking the chairs, hopefully as an apology for always keeping the boy so late.

he couldn't help but smile at the gesture, "you don't have to do that y/n, i'm the one who works here not you." you simply smiled and shook your head, "but it gives me an excuse to stay here with you longer," you finished stacking the last table on your side of the room, "plus it's the least i could do."

"well i appreciate it," a shy smile spread across his face, trying to mentally stop a blush from rising to his cheeks at the thought of you wanted to stay with him longer. god i need to hurry up and ask them out. the thought echoed in his brain as he grabbed the key to lock up, walking with you to the door in a comfortable silence.

you both said your goodbyes, waving as you split off in opposite directions. you spent your walk home that night thinking more about the boy than usual, and as if connected telepathically, hanbin happened to have you at the forefront of his mind the whole drive home. not that he was complaining.

this was the time, hanbin reassured himself. this was when he'd finally ask you out, give you his number, get your number. something. anything. but as he watched the hands on the clock move at an agonizing pace, seemingly taunting him, he couldn't help but second guess himself.

in the midst of his self doubt, the familiar chime rang through the quiet store, right on schedule. and in you walked, dressed up nicer than usual. not that you didn't look great all the time to hanbin, but you looked particularly nice this evening.

"bad news hanbin," you said, walking up to the counter, "i have to take it to go tonight," your lips pressed into a frown. he looked quizzically at you, urging you to continue. "heading to my brother's graduation." you continued simply.

"and yet you still came in for frozen yogurt?" he questioned, a small chuckle escaping his lips. "well i didn't wanna miss my flavour this week," you exclaimed, as if making a very obvious point, "plus i don't think i could go a whole extra week without seeing you, c'mon now."

you kept talking as you filled up your first cup, one of the last flavours that you hadn't tried. setting it on the counter, you started grabbing the second, taking the opportunity to surprise your brother with some of the frozen yogurt you had been raving about.

tapping your card on the machine, and saying your farewell, you turned to leave the small shop and head on your way. but not before hanbin could stop you.

"wait!" he called out, quickly jogging up to you with a napkin in hand, "you might need this, for the road," a hand came to the back of his neck, rubbing sheepishly. "and uh, one minute." he quickly rushed to the back of the shop, where you assumed he kept his things, reemerging from the back door with a jacket in hand. "it's cold out there, staying warm is important, especially if you're eating frozen yogurt."

he lightly placed the jacket around your shoulders, letting the fabric drape along your frame. he took a second to catch his breath, partially from the running back and forth, and partially from the sight of you in his jacket. he quickly tried to peel his eyes off of you before his thoughts got the best of him, and luckily, that led hanbin to miss the way your cheeks heated up at the gesture.

after a moment of silence and thumping hearts, you said your goodbyes once more, accompanied by a thank you from yourself as you headed out the door.

as opposed to the usual, this time you found yourself sitting with your brother indulging in the sweet treat. "since when did you wear jackets like that?" your brother inquired, glancing over the clearly oversized mens jacket. you tried to shrug the question off, attempting to act nonchalant, "since today i guess." you brought the spoon up to your mouth to take another bite, avoiding any further answers.

"y/n, how dumb do you think i am." your brother chuckled, shaking his head at your poor attempt at an excuse, "who gave it to you?"

you quickly gave up on the facade, knowing you couldn't lie to your brother. "just the guy from the frozen yogurt place," your voice trailed off as you watched a shit-eating grin spread across his face. "i've never heard of a frozen yogurt place lending jackets to customers, or any business really." he said sarcastically, laughing at the way your face quickly heated in embarrassment, only stopping to continue teasing you.

"so do you like this boy?" he asked, as if your reaction hadn't given it away. you gave a shy nod as you hummed a confirmation, not only admitting it to your brother but also to yourself. "well as long as he treats you right, i approve, otherwise he better watch out, i bet i could take him anyways."

you couldn't help but laugh at your brothers weak attempt at intimidation, even getting a bit of frozen yogurt on your face in the process, causing your brother to erupt into laughter himself. "hold on," you reached into the pocket of the jacket, pulling out the napkin hanbin had given you as you were leaving, only now you had noticed something you didn't earlier.

there was something scribbled on the napkin. a number. hanbin's number, next to a small scrawled note reading, "in case you ever want to get some real food." a small heart outlined beside the message, even a small tear where the pen had ripped through the thin napkin.

you couldn't wait to get home that night. as soon as you had gotten into the comfort of your room, you grabbed the napkin again, quickly unlocking your phone and typing in the series of numbers messily written across.

"hey, it's y/n ^^" you typed simply, hoping the emoticon didn't feel too awkward as you couldn't stop your heart from beating out of your chest. the feeling of unstoppable palpitations only amplified as you watched the typing bubble quickly appear on the other side of the screen.

the seconds seemed to slow as you watched the typing bubble disappear, only to reappear once more before a message rang through.

"y/n! how'd your brother's graduation go??"

you quickly typed back a reply, giving a positive recollection of the night, selectively withholding the small confessional about the boy you were texting.

you spent your night getting ready for bed at a slower pace than usual, every minute or so your phone would ding with a message from hanbin, and you couldn't stop yourself from reaching for your phone to respond.

before you knew it, hours had gone by and through blurry eyes you faintly read out the time; 3:47am.

"hanbin,," you typed, pressing send on the short message for suspense, "did you realize it's nearly 4am"

his reply came faster than you thought, "shit don't you have to work in the morning?" you thought it was endearing that despite you both being awake, he was still worried about your wellbeing and rest.

after saying goodnight and tucking yourself into bed for the last time that night, you let yourself drift off, thoughts of the boy still swirling around your brain as you fell into a deep sleep.

after the longest friday of your life, you finally got to return to the comfort of your home, and you couldn't have been more thankful. checking the time and noticing that hanbin would still be at work, you decided to do a bit of self-care. as silly as it sounded, you just wanted the time to pass so you could talk to him more.

a nice hot shower and face mask later, and your phone dinged with a message.

"guess who's off for the weekend!" hanbin's name and photo popped up accompanying the message.

"hmm, me?" you typed, laughing as you pressed send, getting an excited "no way!! you too??" in response.

you spent the rest of your evening texting the boy while you listened to the white noise of whatever tv show was quietly playing in the background. that was until, hanbin asked if you wanted to call.

with an overly eager yes, you watched his name pop up again, this time your finger hovering over the answer button as you heard your ringtone blare through your speakers.

"hanbin~" you dragged out, nearly hearing the boy smile on the other end. "y/n~" he mirrored, a small chuckle escaping his lips after.

the conversations carried on into the deep hours of the night, yawns interrupting your thoughts as the time went on, leading hanbin's voice to become laced with concern.

"are you getting sleepy?" he questioned softly, his tone almost putting you to sleep in itself. you responded with a faint hum and nod, even if he couldn't see you. "go to sleep, love. don't let me keep you up." he muttered, keeping quiet as to not wake you.

in your tired state you couldn't quite process the pet name, but you were sure it would plague your mind once you were more awake.

you attempted to mutter back an argument, but before you knew it, your eyes had fallen shut to the sound of hanbin mumbling about something you couldn't quite make out.

hanbin thought it was cute; your faint snores and soft rustling in your sleeping state. he stayed on the call for a while before hanging up, leaving you to sleep peacefully. deciding it was time to head to bed himself, he got comfy in bed and opened your messages for one last time that night.

"sleep tight <3 didn't wanna accidentally wake you so i hung up." he pressed send, hovering over the keyboard for one last message, one that left his heart pounding through his chest. "and uh," he typed out, "if you're free today, maybe we can go to that diner downtown, or anywhere really, if you'd like... okay goodnight!"

he breathed out a sigh as he sent the last message, worry and self doubt taking over his mind as he considered the possibility of you rejecting his offer. but it was too late now, the message had been sent and now all he had to do was wait.

what would usually be a peaceful morning was anything but; as soon as the morning fog in your mind cleared, the night before had flooded back to you in a flash, embarrassment taking over as you failed to remember hanging up or saying goodnight before falling asleep. the only thing your brain could remember was a faint "go to sleep love" echoing over and over in hanbin's soft voice, driving you to near insanity as you opened your phone to a few notifications from the boy himself.

it only took a moment of skimming past the words on your screen before you were eagerly typing a response, accepting the offer to go out followed by a brief apology for falling asleep.

instead of a typing bubble appearing on your screen, it was a call answer screen, which you answered without much thought.

"morning~" you singsonged, hearing hanbin shuffle before responding with a raspy, sleep ridden "good morning y/n."

you swore your head was spinning at the new tone from hanbin, an unexpected change from his usual cheery voice. you took a moment to collect your thoughts before speaking up again, "d'you just wake up?"

he hummed in response, hearing his run this hand through is hair. "then why'd you call me silly?" you questioned, wondering if he had considered just typing a response when he was more awake.

"wanted to hear your voice," he sleepily mumbled, not quite aware of his own confession until it had already left his lips. you muttered a small "oh," taking another moment to process what the boy had said before attempting to come up with a response. you stuttered out a small chuckle and a teasing "well here i am" before switching the subject.

once hanbin was a bit more awake, the two of you confirmed your plans for the day; deciding that hanbin would come pick you up around 5pm and you'd go head out to a diner for some food. "it's a date," you exclaimed, your smile audible through the phone, causing hanbin to smile in return, unknown to you.

"sounds perfect," he hummed, "see you then y/n."

anxiously checking the clock for the nth time, you read the seemingly unchanging time; 4:55pm. you couldn't help but fiddle with the hem of your jacket, or rather hanbin's jacket, in an attempt to calm your nerves. the faint lingering smell of his cologne on the jacket helped ease your mind as you awaited the boy's arrival.

a few minutes had passed while you were lost in your thoughts, only pulled out from your endless what if's by a knock at the door.

you opened the door you had been pacing in front of, leaving the boy to come into view. what you hadn't considered until this moment in time was that this was your first time seeing him out of the bright-coloured uniform and apron he usually adorned at the frozen yogurt shop. instead he sported a loose fitting white t-shirt, a light wash jean jacket atop his shoulders. he looked good.

"oh hi," you managed to stutter out, trying to pick up your jaw that was hanging open. "you look nice," you muttered, eyes trailing over his frame, stopping for a moment on a tattoo that hadn't been visible in his usual attire. a delicate celestial scene placed between his collarbones, lying between the chains of a dainty rose necklace that lay on his chest.

he let out a shy chuckle at the compliment, taking notice of your wandering eyes, "hey that's my line!" he said, almost flustered as he looked over your figure hiding in his jacket yet again. "but really, you look great y/n," he smiled, "you might look better in that jacket than i do."

you simply scoffed in denial and shook your head before the boy spoke up once more, "oh, these are for you," he gestured to the flowers you only just now realized were in his hands. a small bouquet decorated with carnations and roses, small blooms of baby's breath scattered between.

a small gasp escaped your chest as you admired the bright flowers, "they're beautiful hanbin, thank you, you really didn't have to." he simply smiled, muttering a "but i wanted to," which caused you to blush as you welcomed him inside for a moment.

"let me just put these in a vase and we can go!"

hanbin took a moment to admire your cozy home. the walls adorned with simplistic art and photography, small succulents littering every surface you could find room. it felt so unapologetically you, and he loved it.

"your place is gorgeous," he smiled, his eyes, and subsequently his legs, following behind you into the kitchen. you muttered a small thank you, chatting briefly about a recent piece you had thrifted for the quaint apartment, and hanbin couldn't help but smile at the joy radiating off of you as you talked about something you loved.

once your new flowers were safe in a vase on your counter, you followed hanbin out to his car; the boy even opening your door for you. "what a gentleman," you chuckled, smiling and speaking a soft "thank you" as you looked around the car. it was nice; the air freshener smelled like citrus and sitting snug in the cupholder was none other than the small hamster plush you had seen at the frozen yogurt shop, no longer adorning the small apron.

"so you really do take him everywhere," you let out a small giggle at the boy's surprisingly adorable antics as he got into the drivers seat. he only smiled sheepishly in return, "well of course, i can't leave him at work that wouldn't be fair, now would it?"

the two of you burst into a fit of giggles as the car started up, the radio beginning to quietly play some r&b tune; you even found yourself bopping your head to the unfamiliar song as you and hanbin made easy conversation, as usual. the only difference this time was your eyes were trained on hanbin's hand on the wheel, the other resting on the console between the two of you.

you couldn't lie; watching hanbin drive so relaxed, his gaze shifting from the road ahead to you periodically. it was nearly enough to take your breath away. it was hard to believe that months ago, he was just the guy who worked at the frozen yogurt shop you decided to stop in to check out, and now you were here, in his car, on your way to what you hoped was considered a real date.

it wasn't long before the two of you had arrived to the diner; hanbin being the gentleman he was, nearly raced out of the car just to come open your door for you. it was endearing.

"finally some sustenance," you laughed, eyeing up the plate of food in front of you, "can't live off of frozen yogurt forever."

"i always wondered why you're in there so often," hanbin let his thoughts slip his mind and past his mouth, "not that i'm judging though," he quickly continued, " just seems like you'd get sick of frozen yogurt by now"

he was partially right; there was only so much frozen yogurt one person could handle. only so many brain freezes one could endure. "honestly," you popped a fry in your mouth, "i kind of am, that's why i always get a different flavour," you said matter-of-factly, "but it helps that you're there," your voice trailed off at the end, almost embarrassed by the words leaving your mouth.

hanbin seemed rather happy with your answer, a smug smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, "are you saying you've been coming to the shop to see me?" the confident tone in his voice made your brain spin, watching as he proudly took a sip of his milkshake as he awaited whatever response you could come up with.

you nervously bit your lip as you tried your hardest to form a coherent thought, "well i mean," you paused, "look at you, i'm sure you're a huge draw in for customers," you pushed out a small laugh to prevent yourself from humiliating yourself in front of the boy.

"y/n," hanbin smiled again, somehow more smug than before despite his cheeks now flushing a light shade of pink, "are you calling me attractive?"

the accusation nearly made you choke on your drink as you realized the implication of your earlier statement; and sure, it's what you were thinking, but it's not exactly what you meant to say.

deciding there was no going back now, you simply muttered a quiet agreement, hoping that would be enough for the boy. it wasn't.

"sorry what's that? i couldn't hear you," he teased, enjoying the way your ears turned bright red under the dim overhead lights. this time you lightly cleared your throat, repeating the confirmation at an audible volume. "god you're cute," hanbin muttered, lightly shaking his head at your endearing antics.

you let out a laugh for the nth time that night, "is that what you tell all your customers hanbin? that's quite the way to get sales." it was your turn to tease the boy, wanting to see just how serious he was about it all.

"only the customers i have a crush on," he said plainly, smiling as he watched your jaw drop at the blatant confession. it was as if your brain had effectively shut down, or maybe short circuited. some other form of brain freeze, perhaps? you couldn't decide as it took what felt like forever for your brain to come up with a quip.

trying to keep the light atmosphere, you continued joking around, "that's not going to get you employee of the month, you know."

hanbin only reached across the table, placing a hand on top of yours; and you could've sworn your skin was on fire at the contact. looking up at you with a sincere look in his eyes, you struggled to keep eye contact with the pretty boy sitting in front of you. it felt like you were melting under his gaze.

"well i have other priorities now," he breathed out, his voice quieter than before, "and number one on the list is making you mine."

#zerobaseone #zerobaseonefics #boys planet #boys planet fics #boys planet imagines #boys planet reactions #kpop #boys planet drabbles #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #sung hanbin imagines

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acerathia · 3 months

Text

drowning in you || Rafayel | Qi Yu

Summary:

Valentinesday doesn't work out, does it?

Wordcount: 2.5k

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Qí Yù | Rafayel / Reader | MC

Tags/CW:

established relationship, dancing and kissing in the rain, flirting, bathing and washing each other, non-sexual intimacy, references(spoilers) to Mainstory and Myth, Moles as lasting kisses from the last life, implied sexual content after fic, domestic fluff

Note:

Happy Valentines!! I wrote this bc I go insane for him oops

– where r u? ive been waiting for ages omw! close to the entrance of the park –

With a little smile, you let your phone slide back into your bag. Rafayel has told you to come to the park nearby, and you wonder what he’s planning, hopefully not another trip on a boat, the simple memory makes you shiver. After that incident, you would never trust him with an oar ever again. But because you’re supposed to meet him at the entrance of the park, you assume it must be something slightly drier.

You round the last corner, and immediately spot his figure, arms crossed, close to the park. For a moment, you take your time to look at him, the way the sun shines between his hair, giving him some sort of underwater feeling. But you can’t help but squint when you notice his attire, one you have seen before, one Rafayel usually wears when meeting for some art stuff of his. You brush it off, it’s usual for him to wear something that draws the eye, being an artist and all, he does love showing his aesthetic with his clothes.

He seems to have sensed you, because he turns in your direction, and while you smile at him and hurry your steps to get closer to him, his lips push slightly forward.

“Finally, I thought you had forgotten about me! Did you look at the time? It’s been ages, I feel like I’m about to see fish walk on land,” he mutters the moment you stop in front of him.

“Well, I think I already see one,” you grin, before cupping his cheeks carefully. “In fact, this fish is right in front of me.”

The pout doesn’t disappear entirely, but it does soften as he leans closer to your skin. “See? I was right, you’ve left me waiting for too long.”

A huff of breath hits your face softly before he straightens up, not even waiting for your answer as he takes your hand in his, entwining your fingers together. “It doesn’t matter, you’re here now. Let’s go.”

Hand in hand, you both enter the park, and follow the path for quite some time. You have no idea what Rafayel wants to show you, so you only walk by his side, simply enjoying this quality time while looking around the place in peace.

The park seems huge, as before you both even arrived at his set destination, you begin to feel something cold hitting your head. You scrunch your face and look up, only for a drop of water to hit your cheek, your eyelids. You blink in surprise as the rain falls, multiplying with each second, with each step.

A groan, and your gaze immediately flicks to Rafayel, who’s gingerly holding a hand over his head. “Great, now everything is ruined… Did the weather forecast make a mistake? I even checked it for today” He turns to you and meets your eyes. “Let’s go back, c’mon.”

He sighs, disappointment apparent in the way his shoulders slump. “I guess, we’re going to make it up another time… Let’s hurry up and escape this annoying rain.”

You squeeze his hand as you follow his brisk steps into the direction you both came from. “It’s okay, spending time with you is more than enough for me.”

Your words only seem to make him walk faster, the rain hitting your face softly, and you can’t help but slow down slightly.

Laughing, you can’t help but tease him. “But let’s slow down a bit. You’re not going to turn into a mermaid the moment water touches you, are you?”

He turns around to face you, his face scrunched up in a pout. “How ridiculous! That only happens in those TV series. And we’re both already wet, wouldn’t it be too late to consider that anyway?” He cocks his head to the side, before a smug look takes over. “Unless you want me to turn into one to ogle at me, hm? Wouldn’t you like that?” With these words, he leans closer towards you, a grin over his plush lips.

Your eyes flick towards them before returning to his eyes, his lashes clumped and longer with the dripping water. You feel a heat creeping up your neck, and now you’re the one with a small pout on your lips. For a moment, you don’t have any comebacks, so you decide to do what always works the best.

Your free hand grabs his shoulders and you stretch slightly towards him. Your lips meet his. And despite the cold water, his skin is warm against yours. Without missing a beat, his arm sneaks around your waist, pulling you closer, stealing another peck before you could fully pull away.

Once there’s some space between your faces, you can’t help but grin at the redness spreading over the tips of his ears, but you want to see that color over his cheeks. So, you put your lips against his cheeks, closer to his ears.

“Of course I want to see you naked,” you whisper at him, and he immediately pulls away, the color bleeding into the rest of his face.

He holds his hands in front of his face, shielding it from your view. “Wh-what are you talking about?” he stammers, taking a small step back.

You can’t help but think how adorable he looks this flustered, but you stop teasing him, as the rain makes you feel cold, and you imagine he starts feeling the same. Taking his hand once again, you step closer to him and let your forehead rest against his chest.

Almost immediately, despite his embarrassment, his arm winds up against you, his face hot against the skin on your neck. Your other hand comes up to stroke through the wet strands of his hair, now closer to a darker blue when soaked like this.

You don’t know who starts it, but you both begin to slightly rock, a small dance under the rain, interlocked, heart against heart, listening to a tune only you both could hear.

“Let’s go home…” you whisper against his skin, feeling the goosebumps over it.

A sigh on your own skin, and he straightens up, his gaze wandering over your face, filled with something complex, something that warms you despite the cold seeping into your clothes.

Once he nods, you both are on your way again, heading towards the closest apartment of one of you. It doesn’t take long, and you’re glad to be out of the rain, because the moment you enter your home, the rain picks up, the wind sweeping over the streets. You really don’t want to know how it feels to be there.

Soaking wet, you begin to strip yourself of your shoes and socks. “I’m going to take a shower to warm up,” you tell him, and without words he just follows you on your heels.

It’s a burdensome task to get rid of the wet clothes sticking to your skin, but you manage it nonetheless. The heat of the turned on water is already spreading through the air, and you’re almost excited to get under it. With your focus on the upcoming warmth, a squeak of surprise escapes you, when you feel his cold fingers around your waist, his lips against the back of your neck.

You turn your head slightly towards him and kiss the corner of his lips, your fingers intertwining with his, before you fully turn around, your fingers carefully helping him out of his wet clothes, scattering soft kisses here and there over his cold skin. After that, you wordlessly pull him with you to stand under the warm rain of the shower.

For a moment, you let the heat seep into you, relax your muscles, before you grab the shampoo bottle. But instead of slathering it onto your own hair, you motion for him to lean down. Once he does, you put a good portion of the shampoo into his hair, and begin to massage it in, spreading it over his scalp and hair. You watch as he closes his eyes, leaning closer to you.

After you’re thoroughly done, you let him lean his head under the water once again, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair with soft strokes, your hands taking care of each strand, massaging his scalp. Once everything is truly gone, you grab one of your conditioners to take a bit of into your hands, spreading them over your palms before you begin to rub it into the ends of his hair.

A low hum sounds from him and he shuffles a little closer, his hands finding your waist, as always, keeping them there to anchor himself.

Allowing the conditioner to set, you grab his loofa, the one he has deposited ages ago, making himself at home in your home, sharing it with you. Making sure the foam has spread properly all over it, you begin to gently scrub his skin, his shoulders, his arms. You can’t help yourself but scatter some kisses here and there, on his jaw, on his neck.

Coming up to his chest, your eyes lock onto the tiny mole there. “Did you know, some people say that moles are an indication of where our past love has kissed us, over and over again,” you whisper against his skin before kissing the mole softly. “I will love you, for all of my lifetimes, over and over again… And I want to give you something to remember this one, and every one after…”

You’re vaguely aware that you have met Rafayel in your last lifes. And even if your memory is hazy, pieces coming up to you in blurry dreams, you know that you have loved him, and you will continue to love him, for as long as time allows you to exist.

You look up to him, his eyes wide, glazy with swirling emotions. Instead of saying anything, he leans down and catches your lips with his in something sweet, filled with love, of the past, present and future. You melt into his touch, into his warmth, into his steady presence. There isn’t another place you would love to be more than at his side.

For a moment, you let your thoughts focus on him, on the way he calls your name, on the way his ears blush when flustered, on the way he teases you with so much affection.

One last peck, and you continue with your endeavor, gently scrubbing his skin, massaging the tension out of his muscles.

After you make sure that he’s relaxed and clean, you once again guide him towards the water, letting the water glide over his body, warmth seeping into him and relaxing him a bit more. You gently grab his hair and massage all the conditioner away, until all that’s left are his pretty strands of hair.

Your lips meet his forehead, before you turn to take care of your own hair. But before you could even grab the bottle, he does, a bit of the liquid on his palms to slather onto your hair.

With the amount of knowledge he has on you, on your routine and day to day life, he manages to perfectly take care of your hair, his fingers carefully moving on your scalp, caressing the tension there out of your head.

A sigh escapes your lips and this time you’re the one stretching closer towards him, arms around his waist.

Rafayel rinses your hair carefully, each strand flowing through his fingers, and you enjoy each touch of his. Especially when he swipes your hair away to reveal your neck, placing a soft kiss there.

Despite being done, you both stay like this for a moment, his face against your shoulder, your fingers drawing random symbols on his skin, intertwined, skin to skin, warmth to warmth.

Just when you notice your fingers getting prune, do you turn off the water, reaching for the towels to dry up. You pass him his own, and watch as he dabs the water away, before wrapping it around his waist. You begin to feel a little bit warmer when he reaches up to swipe his hair away from his face, running his fingers through the strands, making them stick like that.

You turn around to take care of yourself and leave the bathroom to step into the bedroom, one supposedly belonging to you, yet filled with his trinkets and clothes. You step around some paint brushes clustered on the ground and grab a shirt and other clothes.

Once you put them on, you notice how the shirt belongs to him, something he has left behind after one of his escapades from the journalists. You don’t take it off though, rather you turn towards him as he pulls his pants on, a soft piece of clothing, perfect to sleep in.

His eyes glance up to you, getting stuck on his shirt on you, and you smile as you watch the redness bleeding into his ears, into his cheeks.

He crosses his arms, looking away. “So, you’re now also stealing my clothes now?”

You raise your eyebrows at this. “Uhm, what else have I stolen from you, Rafayel?” you ask, well aware that everything scattered around your place is due to him bringing it over. You can’t say you don’t love seeing his stuff around your place, though. It makes it more livelier, happier.

At your words, he turns around and begins prancing towards you, and you take a step back, your shins hitting the edge of the bed. He leans closer to your face, his eyes running over your face, admiring every single feature of yours, almost like his eyes have landed on an artwork.

You suddenly feel shy under his gaze, so you try to lean back, but when you try to do so, you end up falling onto the bed, sitting on the edge of it.

Instead of letting up, Rafayel puts both his hands on the side of your thighs, supporting himself on the bed to follow you.

“How dare you forget. You have stolen my heart, over and over again,” he whispers against your lips, before dipping in and taking a taste of your lips once again.

A small laugh of yours is drowned by his lips, as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him with you onto the bed. Drops of water fall onto your face from his wet hair, yet you don’t care at all. All that matters is him, Rafayel in your arms and his lips on yours.

With a puff of air, he lands on you, and as the kiss breaks apart for a moment, you take your time to admire his face, the soft lips, his translucent eyes, almost glowing every time he catches your gaze. He doesn’t give you much time, though, before he kisses you again, and again, each kiss making your heart thump with excitement, with all those emotions he manages to awaken in you.

And you’re happy to be the one waking up by his side, spending every lifetime as the person he loves. To be the person who loves him truly in every life.

You can’t help but shudder when his lips move over your jaw to your throat, when he softly murmurs against your skin.

“Let me drown in you…”

#rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel x y/n #rafayel x mc #qi yu x reader #qi yu x you #qi yu x y/n #qi yu x mc #rafayel love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x reader

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day-drawn-blog · 6 months

Text

Epilogue II :

Moonlight burning the flower

Hold tight, don't fight the power -

'The Power'

Pairing: Astarion x Reader. This is set in Act I.

Tags: angst ... leading into some smut.

Part I : The outer layer. Mostly angst and jealousy.

Part II : Where you try to find meaning or draw boundaries.

Part III : maybe tonight I'll rest in peace.

Part IV : There is more to do and I still want to live.

Part V : our futures bound, our bodies known.

Part VI: These ain't my sins. I broke my chains.

Part VII: You are not mine and am I truly yours.

Part VIII : Your blood like wine, invites me in.

Part IX : I welcome my sentence, to give you my penance

Part X : I can't go yet...don't let me die

Epilogue I : Leave the flames and take a chance with me

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

You woke up. You recognized your tent. What happened? Is it morning? No, it was still dark outside. Oh that's right... you drank a lot, and passed out. There was a party, yes, that's right. Astarion broke your heart again. You felt disappointed. You had wanted someone to take you back to their tent. But you were in yours instead. So who had carried you in here?

And then you realized, that there was someone there...with you.

You recognized the familiar silhouette. His chest showing through his clothes, just like this morning. Wait, did you have your clothes on? What had happened while you were asleep? Yes, you had your pants on, and your underwear. Where was your shirt? That's right - you were hot and sometime after you were carried in, you had taken it off.

Was he the one who carried you in?

You looked at him. Your stirrings woke him up, and he looked at you with sleepy eyes. "Ah, you are awake, darling... I've been waiting". Honeyed words were not going to pull you in anymore. You sat up, resolved and looked away from him. "Why are you here?" You asked. He propped himself up as well. "Because ... you are such a handful". He smirked.

"Why are you not with her?" You asked point blank.

You were done beating around the bush. "Who"? He seemed confused. You could feel your pulse rising, anger. "Shadowheart." You sharply clarified. "Ha!" He laughed out loud, his usual cheerful self. "Why should I be with her?" "I saw you talking" you replied, not even trying to hide your resentment and jealousy. "I was apologizing to her...you know... about the whole... blood drinking secret situation" he replied, waving his hands about, looking guilty.

"You must really want her to forgive you." You said, bitterly.

"Well, that would be nice, yes, we are all allies after all. We need to journey together, I need to know I don't have an enemy in camp". He said, pragmatically, sitting up. It all made sense to you, but you refused to believe such a simple explanation. "And ... did she?" "I think so." The answer somehow made you unhappy. You were still hurt, it felt unfair.

"So ... you are here because she threw you away..."

You said, knowing full well, how much that would hurt. You could feel his eyes on you. You dared not look back at him. He was quiet. Even though you had wanted to hurt him you regretted saying that. "I was only with her, because I couldn't refuse her." He said, his voice low, serious. "I was never hers to throw away." "But you want her to want you, isn't it?". You were not done. That question was met with silence, and you dreaded to hear his response to that. He said something unexpected.

"Do you ...want me to want her?"

Taken aback, but you wouldn't back down. You wanted to prove, that you were unaffected, not jealous, that you were above it all. Too proud to admit, that you loved him, that you wanted to be his, and him to be yours.

"Yes. I do. I do want you to want her".

You lied, in anger. You stood up and walked away from him. "I want you to go to her, and beg for her forgiveness, and be with her every night. Make love to her till dawn, again and again, till she is done with you." You stopped to breathe. "Oh ... don't worry, I will still protect you.... I gave you my word after all, didn't I." You smirked, bitterly. You were near the door, looking for your shirt to wear and head out.

You did not want to stay in his presence a minute longer.

He said nothing at first, then he stood up and came up to you, and held your left wrist before you could wear your shirt. You tried wresting free but he wouldn't let go, not until you had heard what he had to say. You looked away, "I can want her, if you want me to." He growled. "I have done my master's bidding countless times before. Lured victims in for him. And I can give my body to do your bidding". He paused "but it will not be of my own free will." His grasp on your wrist tightened.

"I will fuck her or let her fuck me, if that is what you want".

"Every night, if you want me to..." He stepped closer to you. "Would you like that? Would that make you happy? Because you see... I would rather... fuck... you." He held your face in his hands. Clearly having seen through your facade. "I can go to her, if you ask me to, but I will always come find you ....of my own ...free will" His face was very very close to yours. "you taste ...simply delectable."

He came even close to you now, breathing you in.

"Here is a secret I've heard my master say. Sensient beings, can taste positively divine... when you indulge in... carnal pleasures". "Sadly, Cazador never let us drink from any of our victims before.... so I never had ...someone, of mine own." He looked at you, pouting, teasing. "You.... were more and more delicious... with every bite I took of you. But when I bit you... here" he touched between your breasts, "I almost lost my mind. And now... all I can think about... is how you will...taste... when I take you over the edge... till you lose yourself, in me... and scream my name from your lips....darling... I can't wait..."

He almost ripped off your bodice, unceremoniously.

Then he lifted you up, and took you back to your bed before you could protest. "Push me away anytime, my love". Then dropped down to kiss you. Kissed your breasts, the side of your breasts. And trailed kisses down your stomach. Then he unbuttoned your trousers, and with one glance at you, took them off you. Your legs on his shoulders, he kissed your thighs, lower and lower...

You braced yourself for what was to happen next.

Clutching the bedding around you, you inhaled sharply as you felt him tear your underwear off of you. He licked and kissed you down there. You loved every second of it, and did not hold yourself back. Your legs wrapped around him, he made eye contact and placed a hand on your stomach. His tongue felt electrifying. Finding your folds and you could feel wetness soak the blanket underneath.

You lay there naked, admiring his chiseled body. You knew where this was headed and you knew he would not stop unless you stopped him.

You would not stop him.

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

Might finish the smut, some important dialogue too.

#astarion romance #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #astarion angst #baldurs gate 3 #vampire #fanfic #fluff #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #smut fanfic #smut #vampire smut #baldur's gate 3 smut

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crushedsweets · 3 days

Text

ANSWERING ASKS PT 4?

ok this is like 30+ asks LOL its mostly stuff about me/my art with a little crp sprinkled in im sorry... ill make a post thats actually answering the crp asks with real answers that arent "ILL DO IT EVENTUALLY I SWEAR" lololol

YOURE BOTH SO SWEET i havent been this passionate about smth in so long so hopefully im here for a while... thank u guys for indulging me. it makes me happy to post LOL

with love pls dont call me that buuuut. ninakate. ticciwork. ninatoby. ticcijack. ninajack. notice how its all in the same group...

hiii i dont plan to anytime soon! IF I WERE TO, cody and rouge are probably 'next in line' to being put in my AU, but i have no plans to actually commit to that

omg ok its funny cuz rn i HAVE ONE but its just me in it cuz im too lazy to organize all the bots and verification and whatnot. im also nervous about making a server cuz of some online occurrences that happened after u sent this HAHA so i'm kinda putting it off... but i reblogged tombs server and im sometimes active in there if u wanna join that one!

ffrhrughagahhhh

no ur right theyre such a power couple. i know we joke about toby being useless bf and clocky being badass gf but they're both really cool together.

I FORGOT I MADE THE TWILIGHT COMMENT LMFAAAOOOOOO I NEED i need. i need toby to find a random twilight shirt at a thrift and snag it for kate.

ME TOOOO its so delightful. i have so much fun playing with them like barbies.. making them kiss n whatever. LMFAOOOO so silly but yk

JEFF STANS ARE SO FUNNYYYYYYYYY i like you guys. laughing jack stans scare me but thats cuz that damn clown scares me... nothing that yall have done. youre just braver than me. LOL

i will not do this...

no literally its really bad. i hold horrible grudges BAHAHA but im working on it. im getting over my purple beef

omg. i listened to it and that was really cool. i like that thank u sm for sharing

IDK WHAT POST UR REFERING TO BUT YOURE RIGHT. LMAOOOOO

IM SORRYYYY im so sorry. i feel like this fandom is so small and most of the fans dont really ship in general so it suuuucks shipping here.. but i love them..

oh my god i need to i keep forgetting. the nina art i jus tposted of her holding th eknife was kinda.. kinda referencing her behaviors..

i do too!!! ive been neglecting them so bad im so sorry..

like the IEPFB tea party scene

I NEVER DID IT ANON IM SO SORRY IM GOING TO HELL

is this a song

i have not! i havent read alot of stories actually... i kinda like doing my own thing with them HAHA

omfg i had a clocknina drawing but i ended up privating but i think i should unprivate it...

ok actually im sorry i just am bad at requests omfg LMFAOO IM SORRY im so focused on nina ... forgive me...

THANK YOUUUU youre very sweet i appreciate you!!! <3

YEAH he's...one of the more tragic people. 100%. all loss

WHAT IS LIUJONJACK LOL WHOS JON??? ALSO LIUOTPS IS FUNNY

wdym ? !

LMFAOOOOO HEY ITS NOT A BAD COMBO THERES NOTHING WRONG WITH BEING A NINAKATE SHIPPER........

THANK YOU CUPCAKE i really like nina.. or my version i gues si dunno.. i like everyone else's nina too. i like this nina we got going on together

ok i keep grouping these together but also making them seperate im so bad at organizing these asks but HAHA I LOVE THEM TOO i swear ill try to get some ticciwork stuff out soon!!! my spring semester is almost over so hopefullyyy..

this is how you know i suck ass cuz this was christmas time and im replying NOW. im so sorry. i initially planned to draw them hanging around a tree but i didnt get around to it then got embarassed and never replied.... but i agree it would have been cute. ha di notfailed. LOL

#asks

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mags-writes · 8 months

Text

Sunlight || Part IV

Summary: frank gives you a call

Series Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical swearing, first time writing x reader, no use of y/n, no beta readers we die like ray nadeem

Pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

Authors Note: lotta violence in this one ladies

PROLOGUE/MASTERLIST || PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V

Frank knew your number by heart. Call him old-fashioned but he couldn't shake the habit of learning numbers by heart instead of just saving them to his contacts and forgetting about them.

He was trying his hardest to control his breathing as he typed in the numbers on his phone's keypad. Trying to stop the shaking in his hands as he brought it up to his ear. He listened, for what felt like forever as it rang.

Were you taking too long to answer? Or did it just feel like thousands of years passed instead of seconds?

The ringing stopped

"Hey, Frankie."

"Hey." He cleared his throat, his voice scratchy and rough from worry. "Hey, sweetheart. You goin' grocery shoppin' today, right?"

There was a seconds pause.

"Uh, yeah, yeah. I just left the apartment. Why? You want something specific for dinner?"

"I need you to stop." He said, his voice low and he hoped to god that you'd hear how serious he was being. "Don't go back to the apartment. Somethin's happened and it's not safe. You remember that support group I told you about?"

"Uh... The one with Curtis, right? Your friend from the military?"

"Yeah, yeah that one. Go there. Right now. You hear me? No stops." He ordered, and if that didn't work he was more than happy to resort to begging.

"I'm going to pick something up on the way."

"No. Listen to me, doll, you come straight here."

"You listen to me. I know how serious the situation is, okay? I'm going to make one stop and then I'll head over. It's on the way and I'll be twenty minutes tops. I'm not arguing with you, baby, twenty minutes. I'll be there."

Before he could reply the dial tone rang out. Shocked, he pulled the phone back to check that, yeah, you had absolutely just hung up on him.

"Uh," Laughed Amy, drawing his attention from his phone to the girl. "You didn't say she was your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend." He defended, walking back over to the large group.

"Yet." Commented Dinah, raising her eyebrows.

"Well," Matt spoke up with a hint of a smirk. "She just called him 'baby' so, the finish line's in sight."

40 MINUTES EARLIER

What Matt had said to you before he left put you on edge and you were lucky for it. In the months that you had been doing his grocery runs, you'd felt completely at ease out in public. Well, as at ease one could feel in Hell's Kitchen that is.

If he didn't have that talk with you then you wouldn't have been checking your surroundings like you were used to before coming to this dimension. You wouldn't have noticed someone following you.

You decide to take this guy on a journey. Walking to the poorer parts of the city that don't have security cameras on or in the old buildings and walking into one that, upon prior research, you knew had hardly anyone in there. The second you were in the lobby you ran for the old elevator, hoping and praying to a god you no longer believed in that you'd get in before your tail caught up to you. That you would make it up to whatever floor you decide to click on to lose him.

Luck was not on your side.

He walked in just as the doors opened for you and you both stepped into the elevator.

You clicked the button for the third floor.

He did nothing.

You both sat in silence for a second or two when he turned to face you. Adrenaline shot straight through you at the dead look in his eyes. And as per usual, when faced with these situations, you couldn't help but open your mouth to let the nerves out.

"Are we about to fuck?" You asked, throwing him completely off guard, tilting his head with a frown and staring at you for another second. "No? I'm the only one getting those vibes?"

When he pulled his arm back, taking his jacket with him you got a glimpse of the gun at his waist that he was reaching for. Without hesitation and before he could get a hold of it, you stepped back and put all your driving force into a practiced front kick to his stomach. He doubled over, groaning in pain and surprise as you straightened back up again. You didn't give him time to recover, bringing your fists up into a boxing stance and quickly striking out at his eye socket in a hit that would have made Jack Murdock whoop with pride. When his head went flying back with the force of your hit you struck out again at his exposed neck making him let out a gargled groan.

The door dinged to signal it was about to open and you gave one more swift kick to his ribs before bolting out the doors. Running as fast as you could down the hall and turning the corner. You went into a squat, fumbling for the bag at your side to try and grab a hold of your phone that always sunk to the bottom when you needed it most. You didn't hear your tail walk down the hall, your blood pumping in your ears and adrenaline making your hands shake. Or was it the blossoming bruises on your knuckles making them shake?

Right as you felt your phone, your head was yanked to the side by your hair making you yell out in pain. He brought you up to stand intending to hold his gun to your head but instead, you used a move that you learned from those women's self-defense classes you and other Karen had attended last year. Taking hold of the gun, moving it to the side so he couldn't hit you, hand underneath his wrist to take advantage of the joint, and then apply pressure, yanking the gun from his grasp within a second of him pulling it on you. You used the butt of it to hit him across the face before throwing it out the window, going back to your boxing stance Jack Murdock taught you back when you were six.

This time you let him recover. If this mother fucker was going to try and kill you then you'd let him have a fair fight. Let him get a taste of you.

He struck out, hitting you square in the front teeth and you felt your lip split from a ring he was wearing. You barely flinched. Letting the adrenaline really take over and shake off the hit. You hit him this time, a few times and quicker than lightning, quicker than him. You got in a few kicks, one of which he caught, bringing his elbow down onto your thigh making you grunt out in pain. Bringing you in close was a mistake though, now you had free reign on his face and you didn't stop until he let you go and pushed you away. If someone were to walk in on this fight right at this moment then they'd say the stumbling man bleeding from his face was losing, not the woman perked up and light on her feet.

He hit again and you easily blocked, taking on the hit and striking his ribs again before backing off. He wasn't ready for a fight today, and you could tell by how tired he was already. When you went to hit again, getting in close he got there first. Hitting your cheekbone felt like it sent a shockwave through your head. It left a ringing noise going through your head and you backed off, letting him have that. You felt blood drip down your face and you suddenly got angry. You decided the fight was over now. Whether he liked it or not.

You checked your surroundings, seeing that you had him backed up to the window you threw his gun from. You went to make it seem like you were pulling your arm back for an exaggerated punch that Jack Murdock told you to never do and when he hunched over to dodge it you instead shifted your weight and did another powerful front kick to his exposed chest. He teetered back, hitting the window, and went straight through the thin, non-regulated planed glass.

You took a breath. Letting your arms hang loose.

Then you remembered.

You were on the third floor.

And you just kicked a man out the window.

You scrambled for the elevator, running again as fast as you could down the hall and hitting the button so hard you were surprised it didn't break. When you made it outside, you rounded the corner to a shadowed alleyway, checking all angles for a lone security camera that might be around and finding nothing. You came to a stop in front of the heaped pile of man that was previously intent on killing you a few minutes prior. Realising he must've landed right on his head.

You're brought out of your staring when your phone rings.

"Hey, Frankie." You're still lightly panting from the adrenaline, the fight, and the running and you hope to god he can't hear it.

"Hey," He clears his throat. "Hey, sweetheart. You goin' grocery shoppin' today, right?"

There was a seconds pause.

Right.

Yeah.

That's what you were doing today.

"Uh, yeah, yeah. I just left the apartment." You lied, looking around in case someone walked by. "Why? You want something specific for dinner?"

"I need you to stop." You frown, going back to looking at the man and panicking that Frank somehow knew this had happened. "Don't go back to the apartment. Somethin's happened and it's not safe. You remember that support group I told you about?"

"Uh..." Oh, thank god. You take a second to get your thoughts together. "The one with Curtis, right? Your friend from the military?"

"Yeah, yeah that one. Go there. Right now. You hear me? No stops."

"I'm going to pick something up on the way." You decide out loud, completely disregarding what he just said.

"No. Listen to me, doll, you come straight here."

"You listen to me." You emphasised, not taking his overprotective bullshit. "I know how serious the situation is, okay? I'm going to make one stop and then I'll head over. It's on the way and I'll be twenty minutes tops. I'm not arguing with you, baby, twenty minutes. I'll be there."

Then you hung up on him.

Nope. Not taking his overprotective bullshit. Not even a little bit.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle fic #frank castle fanfic #the punisher #the punisher x reader #the punisher fic #the punisher fanfic #daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil fanfic #marvel fic #marvel fanfic

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t3ag3rs · 27 days

Text

g e n s o - 0 5.

"the thirds ones wrong.. it should be will not well.."

you sighed out answering present mics question. "thats correct!" he continued to ramble on about grammar and english.

you put your head down and closed your eyes wishing class would go by faster.

then the bell rang, dismissing you all to go to lunch.

"y/n! come sit with us!" said mina, pulling your arm. you laughed and walked along with her, kirishima, and two other boys. "sup beautiful im denki kamanari and thats hanta sero, nice to finally meet you" said the yellow haired boy grinning.

you waved, "nice to meet you two as well!" kirishima groaned, "im so hungry..! i cant wait to some of the yummy food!" sero laughed as he patted his stomach, "hes like a baby!"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you sat down between mina and kirishima, chatting with them as they ate. god im so hungry.... but i cant risk gaining any fat right now... im at the healthiest ive been.. i cant gain anything!

you looked down at your fingers and fiddled with them. "hey y/n, why arent you eating anything?" asked kirishima curiously, you looked at him and quickly blurted an excuse, "o-oh! i had a heavy breakfast right before i left so im still stuffed!" you chuckled to deflect any second thoughts from them.

mina nodded, "ohhhh i get that.. well make sure to eat at home kay?" you nod smiling at her, of course i will..

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

finally it was time for the class you were waiting for. "i am here!! coming through the door like a hero!" announced all might as he made a dramatic entrance into the class. you couldnt help but let out a wide smile at him.

the whole class started talking amongst themselves at how they were amazed he was teaching them. you knew bakugou was jumping inside at the sight of his favorite hero, but didnt wanna seem like he was a fanboy.

"today we will be focused on battle!" you looked to see bakugou grinning, "but in order to do that you guys have to look good!" suddenly boxes of all of your hero costumes came out of the wall.

oh my gosh is that really my coustume??? you thought excitedly, smiling widely. "change and meet me at training ground beta!" all might instructed.

you went into the girls locker room and started changing, "i cant wait to see how my costume looks on me!" exclaimed mina, as she put on her costume. you laugh in agreement and start putting on yours.

"ill see you out there y/n! dont take to long!" she said as she ran out giddily. you finish putting on your costume and look at yourself in the mirror, you smiled as you saw how it accentuated your muscle and curves well, before running out to the rest of the students.

you walked out while smiling, "OH MT GOD Y/N YOU JUST RAISED THE HEAT OVER HERE! YOU LOOK SO HOT!" screamed mina, getting everyone's attention. you blush and thank her for the compliment while adjusting the thigh harnesses.

you look over to see bakugou in his hero costume and take notice of how much his body had changed. he had definitely grown more muscular and even though you wouldnt admit it, he looked good.

you held your breath as you made eye contact with him. he widened his eyes a bit before looking the other way. "honestly though.. your costume looks so good!" mina praised, " o-oh! thanks..! honestly it isnt really something i usually wear.. the skin tight crop top, and i always usually try to stay away from pants that are somewhat tight around my thighs and butt.. "

"no way! they show off the body you got blessed with! besides the cargos accentuate your muscular thighs! i think your whole costume looks good on you!" she smiles, you blush and bow your head thanking her.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you listened closely as all might explained what you all would be doing today. you felt someone glaring at you and turned to look at them, only to meet a pair of vermillion eyes. you narrowed your eyes and stared back until he turned away, haha! i win asswipe!

you walked up to all might to draw your lot and see who you got paired with. letting out a low curse your paper read 'katsuki bakugou'. god you must really hate me huh..? out of all the people here this guy??

sulking internally you walked toward bakugou and stood by him silently. "all right lets see who the villian and hero will be!" all might reached into the box and pulled out your team and dekus team. "just great.." you mutter realizing you and bakugou were the villians and had to go up against deku. knowing bakugou he would target deku to try and beat him up.

you and bakugou started heading on inside, "young y/n, young bakugou the key to this exercise is to embody villainy- think like how they would and act upon it, make sure to communicate and work together." you nod, youll only be able to communicate if someone doesnt target deku.

you follow behind bakugou into the room with the fake weapon. you walk toward it and look around to check your surroundings "hey." you turn and look at bakugou, "do you really think deku has a quirk..?" you bite your lip, "well.. we both saw what he did during the physical tests, so yes i do think he has a quirk" you respond looking at bakugou.

you noticed him tense up, "look.. just because he has a quirk now dont go targeting him whenever you can, we both have to communicate if you wanna win this- which im sure you do. so please just try and calm your temper okay?" you add, he stands still and you sigh. "whatever.. its not like youll listen anyways... ill guard the weapon, knowing them uraraka will probably try and come up here, once i deal with her ill help you with izuku"

"all right! lets begin the indoor combat training!" says all might over the loud speaker, "be careful" you tell bakugou before he walks away. you purse your lips knowing he wouldnt hold back on deku, but right now you had to worry about uraraka.

you smirk as you come up with a plan and go to hide behind a pillar near the entrance. suddenly, you hear a huge explosion, "here we go again.."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"bakugou take it easy on the explosions.. i dont think this building can handle too many" you say through the ear piece, "shut up and defend the weapon genso!" he replies. you roll your eyes, this bitch...

you suddenly hear footsteps and ready yourself quietly, "theres the weapon! wait... wheres y/n..?" she says as she steps through apprehensively. you smirk and let your wind propel yourself forward, manipulating the earth under uraraka you made it wrap around her body, making sure to bound her arms down knowing if she touched you she could make you float. "right here!" you say as you wrap your tape around her, successfully capturing her.

she looked at you with a blank look still processing what just happened, "wait what??" she says questioningly, "sorry to get you out so early, but i really dont trust leaving bakugou with izu" you say before hearing another couple of explosions.

"bakugou! where are you?" you ask through the earpiece only to get no reply, just great..! no reply from the asswipe!

you run out and touch the floor closing your eyes, you saw the floorplan of the building in your mind letting the earth draw it out for you. you felt a huge surge of motion coming from a specific side of the building and ran to the location as quick as you could.

suddenly all might came over the speaker again, "use that power again bakugou and ill disqualify your team! you need to be aware of your surroundings and strive to make the least amount of damage to it as possible!"

oh my god theyre gonna kill each other...! you closed your eyes and pushed your legs faster trying to get there quicker. you heard another couple of explosions and widened your eyes.

you werent gonna make it in time.

stopping, you placed your hand on the ground again and found where they were in your mind. deciding to test your quirk, you focused on the spot and found the wall closest to the area. maybe.. just maybe.. i can manipulate the earth and get myself there by moving through the walls..

you focused all your power on the walls and let yourself fall into the earth, the next thing you knew you were in the same room as the two. they were standing in front of each other, izuku was screaming at bakugou and your gut told you to move in between the two. the next thing you knew your feet were moving, and you were hit by both their quirks.

you let out a loud yelp of pain and fell to the ground. you heard another thump and saw izuku fall to the ground, wincing you crawled your way to him and wrapped the capture tape around him before you passed out.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you blinked your eyes as you familiarized yourself with light and winced as you tried to move. "there, there, take it easy... your bodys pretty beaten up... taking those two powerful blows wasnt very smart of you to do.." explained recovery girl, you let out a sheepish smile, "i couldnt just stand there and let them kill each other.. ive known both since childhood and bakugou isnt one to hold back when it comes to izuku.." you explained.

"hows izuku..?" you ask curiously, "hes already back in class, i still need to heal a couple other of his injuries but he has no energy in his body left for today.." you nod, "can i go back go class..?" she nods, "yes, but make sure you come back tomorrow.. i bandaged the blow on your stomach, but it still needs a bit of healing.. keep the cast on your arm on till tomorrow" she explains before letting you go.

you limp slightly as you walk back to class, gosh itll be so embarrassing walking into the class knowing they saw me pass out- yet again..

opening the door you walked into the class, only to be bombarded by kirishima, mina, and a couple of other students. "oh my gosh y/n you were so kick-ass!" exclaimed mina as she threw her hands around you, "be careful mina! shes still a bit injured!" reminded kirishima, you smiled before waving it off, "im fine.. im just glad everyones okay..!" "that move you pulled where you moved yourself through the earth was awesome!" praised uraraka.

"wait.. wheres izu..?" you question as you couldnt find him in the room, "hes talking to bakugou.." sighs out uraraka, you widen your eyes and run to find the two outside.

gasping for air your finally reach the two, "thank goodness i found you izu..!" you say tiredly, "my gosh y/n... are you okay?" you smile before nodding, "im fine, nothing too major..! im glad your fine though..!" you pause and turn to bakugou, "look bakugou.. as much as i understand your frustrated, you had no right to try and kill izuku in a practice match!" you sighed as you looked down.

"we used to be good friends.. just because of certain values we had we stop being friends.. whatever happens this year- i promise you two this, im not sticking up for either of you. you guys can either die fighting each other because of your massive egos, or learn how to grow up and act like mature people." you grit before turning and limping away.

you knew in your heart that you still valued the friendship you had with them, but you werent going to let bakugou continue and treat deku like shit just to fulfill his ego.

previous parts: pt. 0 0 / pt. 0 1 / pt. 02 / pt. 03 / pt. 04 next parts: pt. 06 / pt. 07 / pt. 08 / pt. 09 / pt. 10 / pt. 11 / pt. 12

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chezzywezzy · 2 years

Text

Yandere Eddie Munson (2/13)

Word count ; 4.2k

*Edited.

“Oh, just like any other old sale,” he droned, crossing his arms,” except, uh, cash only, and, uh, for obvious reasons, no receipts.” He realized he wasn’t getting an answer and pulled something out of the bag. I’d never seen him so serious. “I’ll do you a half ounce for, uh…. twenty. What do you say? Plenty of bang for your buck. Should last you a while.”

He held the bag out, and I could tell he wasn’t a fan of the anxious atmosphere Chrissy created. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, shaking her playfully. However, something cracked and she turned, frightened. Whatever had made that noise was just wildlife.

Eddie sighed, shutting the lunchbox. “Hey, uh, we don’t need to do this. Just give me the word and I’ll walk away. Okay?”

“No, it’s not that. I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to go. It’s just…” She was drawing circles against the picnic table. It was clear Eddie’s interest had once again been peaked, and he plopped his head in his hand. “Do you ever feel like you’re losing your mind?”

Eddie almost cracked a grin, but tilted his head. His eyes flitted over to me, and he stared intently. “Um… you know, just… on a daily basis. Especially with that one around.” A grin rose through and even I couldn’t help but crack a smile. “You know, I feel like I’m losing my mind right now doing a drug deal with Chrissy Cunningham, the queen of Hawkins High, while she brings the love of my life for back-up.”

Chrissy smiled demurely, and she leaned against me. “You know, this isn’t the first time that we’ve, um… hung out.”

That peaked my interest, and I tilted my head. He eyes still bore into my soul, but it was clear that was directed at Chrissy.

“No?” Chrissy spoke up, baffled.

“You don’t remember?”

“I’m sorry, I —“

“That’s okay.”

I gasped as Eddie grasped at his heart and he flung himself back. He fell to the ground and did a barrel roll. He recovered with ease, hopping back onto his own two feet. A laugh bubbled in my throat. “I wouldn’t remember me either, Chrissy. Honestly, um, do I have stuff in my hair?”

Chrissy burst out laughing and he started wildly clawing at it. Warmth spread across my chest. Eddie was funny guy. He crossed his arms, staring incredulously. He was pacing around wildly. “You don’t remember me?” he gasped, feigning incredulity.

“I’m sorry,” she managed.

“Okay, well, you were there, too, Y/n,” he insisted. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t break me here. Surely you remember?”

I sent him a playful glare, answering,” You bring it up all the time, man. It was at the middle school talent show and we were doing a routine.”

“Yes!” he exclaimed, pointing at me excitedly. “You were doing your thing. The uh…” He waved his arms in mockery. “The thing you do. It was pretty cool, actually. And I was with my band…”

Chrissy suddenly clapped her hands together. “Corroded Coffin!”

Eddie mimicked, clearly excited. “Corro - you do remember.”

“Oh my god! Yes, of course,” Chrissy recalled. “Y/n, why didn’t you ever tell me? With a name like that, how could I forget?”

I giggled, covering my mouth. My cheeks burned with embarrassment and I almost forgot about Chrissy’s ailments. Eddie clasped his hands together, leaning against a tree. “I dunno. You’re a freak.”

Chrissy was clearly taken aback, although her pearly whites couldn’t be contained. “No, you just… you looked so —“

“Different? Yeah, well, uh, my hair was buzzed, and I didn’t have these sweet old tatties yet.” He pulled his shirt down, revealing his tattoos and he sent me a wink.

I shook my head unable to control my laughter. “He played guitar,” I giggled, nudging the woman.

“Uh-huh. And I still do. Still do…” He went momentary silent in thought. It was like he was physically unable to stand still for even a second. “You should come see us. Uh, we play at The Hideout on Tuesdays. Unless, of course, certain boyfriends have a tracking device on your ass. It’s pretty cool. We - we actually get a crowd of about fi-i-ive drunks.”

Chrissy and I laughed, and I knew my face must’ve darkened with a blush.

“It’s not exactly the Garden, but you gotta start somewhere, right? So…”

“You know, you’re not what I thought you’d be like. Chance rants about what an asshole you are at least once a day,” Chrissy admitted bashfully.

I sighed and irritably hit my head against the picnic table, but only enough to get out my frustration.

Eddie cackled. “Yeah, well, I’m not too fond of that braindead buffoon, either. What, you thought I’d be mean and scary?” He feigned shyness by holding some of his lucious curls in front of his face, fluttering his eyes.

“Yeah,” Chrissy agreed with a laugh.

“Yeah, well, I actually kinda thought you’d be kinda mean and scary too.”

He walked right back to the table, placing his palms against it and looming over us with that large grin of his.

“Me?”

“Terrifying.”

He sat right back down. I couldn’t help but appreciate the man. It was the first time Chrissy smiled all day, and it was because of him.

“Uh, so…” He picked up the lunchbox and placed it back on the table, a loud thud resounding in the empty forest. “In other good news, flattery and bringing your compadre along with you works with me, so… I’m willing to give you the half for free.”

My jaw dropped and I covered it again. Eddie sent me a sly grin. There was just something so charming about him. Chrissy was also caught off guard, and only a few sputters escaped.

“You’re robbing me blind here, you know. However, I think the catch is worthwhile.”

Chrissy furrowed her brows, and her joy faded. “What’s the catch?”

Something else was on the tip of her tongue, but Eddie ignored it, spiraling his finger in my direction. “Well, it’s free. Obviously. But a certain someone has to ditch the game and check out our final campaign, if you catch our drift.”

My heart dropped, but I almost felt inclined to accept. Chrissy’s face fell and she turned to me. I barely got a word out as Chrissy insisted,” B - but it’s the finals. We’re required to be there.”

He hummed. “Not if Y/n’s caught a deadly unknown virus last-second and is unable to attend. I’m sure nobody will notice with all the hubbub about the, uh, tossing balls thing.”

Chrissy was considering it, and so was I. I knew that Chrissy’s father was strict and might notice an absent twenty dollars. I couldn’t help but reply,” Okay, sure. Chance will understand, right? As far as he’ll know, I came down with the stomach flu.”

Chrissy laughed, grabbing my hand. Eddie’s eyes twinkled in satisfaction, and he slid the bag toward her. Her fingers outstretched. And yet, there was something else she had to know.

“Do you have anything… maybe… stronger?”

Eddie’s grin faded and he watched her intently. There was something a warning, in his eyes. And even I couldn’t help but whisper,” Are you sure?”

Chrissy nodded her head, giving me puppy dog eyes. I wanted to tell her no. But clearly she wanted to be on the down-low about whatever she was going through, and I had no choice but to accept.

~~~

I sat in the passenger side of Chance’s car, trying to look as sickly as possible. I occasionally let out a cough and I clutched my stomach. He was over the moon about possibly winning the championship with his team, and I felt bad. However, Chrissy was going through something. Something hard. And I needed to be there for him.

As he pulled into the parking lot, he noticed my stance. His dark hair fell in his face and he undid his seatbelt, leaning over. “Babe, what’s wrong? Is it cramps?”

I strained a smile, but I forced my body to jolt. Chance grunted and grabbed my shoulder tightly, one of his hands tilting my cheek toward him. I gulped, panting slightly. He stroked my cheek gently and tilted his head, prodding for an answer from me.

“I - I’m sorry, Chance, it’s nothing.”

He furrowed his brows. “It doesn’t seem like nothing.”

I gulped again, realizing he was already convinced. All I had to say was the word. “I think I might have… picked up a stomach bug from Chrissy. I don’t know. All I know is it feels like my stomach’s going to explode.” I feigned a retch again. “But - I’ll still be cheering for you. It’s nothing.”

He sighed and pressed a quick to kiss to my forehead. I panted slightly. I felt so bad that I was lying to his face, but it was nothing. Chrissy not going batshit crazy was more of a priority than my perfect boyfriend’s basketball game, even if it meant the world to him.

“Listen, babe, you’re perfect. I seriously think I should just drive you home. You gotta rest.”

I strained a tight smile. “Are you sure? I mean, I really want to be there.”

He shook his head stubbornly, frowning. “Your health is more important, okay? I know you’ll be cheering me on in spirit. I love you. Let me drive you home really quickly —“

“No!” I exclaimed, causing him to jump. “No. I mean… you need time to stretch and the game starts in twenty minutes. I think I’m going to vomit, too, and I need to use the restroom.”

Chance pursed his lips and hummed. “Then how will you get home?”

“I’ll call mom and tell her to pick me up. I’m rooting for you, though. I love you.”

Chance nodded and I undid my seatbelt. I clutched my stomach and my acting must’ve been good enough to convince him since eI even started to sweat a little. I staggered out of the car, holding my tummy with both hands and hunching over slightly. Chance fiddled through his pocket and pulled some change.

“I love you too. Listen, stay safe, okay? And use this to call your mom.”

I sent him a strained grin and nodded. “Thanks, babe. I’ll watch it from home, okay? And can you tell the cheer captain I can’t make it?”

“Of course. I need to get going.”

We shared one kiss before I turned tail in the opposite direction. Some friends greeted me, but I didn’t let them hold me up. I went to the bathroom to wait for the game to start. I knew I wouldn’t run into anyone else. I shoved the change in my pocket and sat in a stall on the toilet seat absentmindedly.

I felt bad about lying. But I knew that he’d be pissed off if I told him the real reason I couldn’t go. It was understandable, because I knew how much Eddie got on his nerves, but I had to. And it wasn’t like this was cheating. I was just going to a separate club event in secret.

The amount of people filtering into the bathroom eventually and I heard a horn, indicating the pregame had started. That meant I had five minutes before their Dungeons and Dragons campaign started. I wanted to make sure I was on time. I left the bathroom, still feigning sickness. I walked down the deserted hallways, hearing the basketball game speech vaguely.

I ended up in front of a classroom. It was the one Eddie told me about. The door was slightly cracked open and I saw vague light and that there was loud chatter. I wiped my eyebrows and slowly pushed on the door. It creaked loudly and I peered inside, but the conversation went dead.

Inside was an ominous atmosphere. Everyone from the Hellfire club, excluding Dustin and Mike, were sat. All of the desks were pulled together and at the head, where several candles were lit, was Eddie himself. There was a board set up in front of his spot. Apparently Eddie hadn’t told them I was going to be here.

Eddie, with an eager glint in his eyes, slammed his hands into the table and stood. “I’m so glad you made it, sweetheart. Come on in, we won’t bite. Yet.”

“What’s she doing here?” one of his friends muttered to the other.

I stepped inside the room but Eddie waved at his friend dismissively. “Hush! The queen bee has arrived,” he bellowed out in amusement, his deep voice rumbling. “Come sit over here.”

Eddie was excited as I shut the door behind me and walked in. His friends were still staring me down and I felt oddly nervous. He grabbed another plastic chair and pulled it beside him. He patted it eagerly and I finally arrived beside him and plopped down.

I could finally see what was on the other side of the board and I leaned closer. There were all sorts of fantasy terms that I wasn’t really acquainted with. Everything was oddly neat, because everything I’d seen of his notes were either completely blank or scribbled nonsensically.

Eddie patted my back, gaze glued to my figure. He was waiting for me to ask something. I was itching with curiosity, but my job in being here wasn’t to stand out. I opened my mouth, about to ask about what ‘Vecna’ was, but the club door slammed open.

In came Erica, an American flag wrapped around her shoulder and a folder in her grasp. Dustin and Mike were right behind her. The young girl was confident and had her chest puffed out. I almost laughed at the scene, shocked by how serious this entire endeavor seemed to be.

Mike announced,” We’ve brought you a sub.”

Dustin’s jaw drop as his eyes landed on me, and he couldn’t help but shout,” What are you doing here?”

I shuddered from the volume, and I forced a grin. “Well, uh, just here to support my adorable little bother’s hobby…?”

Erica spoke up, one hand on her hip. “What’s the big deal? Are girls not supposed to play?”

Dustin stammered,” N - no, it’s just… You’re popular! You’re literally a cheerleader! Why are you here?”

I shrunk away, feeling my cheeks burn in embarrassment. Eddie sat and clasped his hands together, all amusement fading as his attention dwelled on the twelve-year-old. “This is the sub?”

“You asked for a sub. We delivered,” Mike pleaded motioning to her.

“Absolutely not,” Eddie deadpanned. “And also, my dearest lamb, I invited her to sit in. It’s a big event.”

Mike was about to stay on the relevant topic, but Dustin wasn’t done investigating. He held out his hands. “Woah, woah, woah. There’s no way you’re here just for me. Did you and Chance finally break up or something?”

I scoffed,” You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah! I would! He sucks!”

I could hear Eddie snicker through his hand. However, he cleared his throat. Dustin fell silent and I leaned back against the chair, hiding my face in my hands. “Okay, okay, children. And actual child. This is Hellfire club. Not babysitting club —“

“I’m eleven, you long-haired freak,” Erica piped up.

Eddie scoffed. “My, my, the child speaks.” Chuckles resonated from his friends. He rose to his feet and walked right around me, his hand ghosting over my shoulder. He walked up to her and Erica met him with a defiant glare. “What’s your name, child?”

“Erica Sinclair.”

He chuckle lowly,” So this is Sinclair’s infamous sister.”

Erica rolled her eyes and tilted her head toward Dustin and Mike. “He’s sharp.”

His underlings laughed, but when he glared, they shut up immediately. “What’s your class and level? Level one dwarf?”

I snickered from how nerdy that was. I understood nothing but it was oddly humorous how serious they were taking a board game. At the same time, though, his friends burst into laughter. Eddie peered over his shoulder and he flashed me a grin.

“My name is Lady Applejack. And I’m a chaotic good half-elf, level fourteen. And I will sneak behind any monster you thrown my way and stab them in the back with my poison-soaked kukri. And I’ll smile as I watch them die a slow, agonizing death. So, are we gonna do this, or are we gonna keep chitchatting like this is your mommy’s book club?”

Everyone was taken aback. A question was on the tip of my tongue about what the hell any of that meant, but I kept quiet. Eddie withdrew, straightening his back.

A grin suddenly grew on his face and he held out his hand to shake. “Welcome to Hellfire.”

Erica shook it roughly. He returned to his seat, eyes glinting with excitement. Erica sat at the other end of the table, exuding leader energy. Everyone else was still in awe and they uttered to themselves. Eddie was quickly looking over the board, and he exuded gremlin energy.

I leaned forward a bit. “So, Lady Applejack? You’re a My Little Pony fan too?”

Erica blinked in surprise. “You know My Little Pony? You’re literally in high school. And you’re you.”

I snorted. “Who the hell do you think got Dustin into it? I was a kid, too, once.”

Erica grinned, but Dustin intervened when he heard the people around him laugh at the revelation. “Woah, woah, woah, that is not true! I’ve only seen, like… a few episodes.”

“Correction,” I boomed. “Seasons.”

Erica glared at Dustin expectantly. “Yeah, don’t lie to me. I thought you were proud to be a fan.”

“To clarify I’m not a fan,” he tittered. Eddie was watching the scene - but mostly me - in amusement. “That’s definitely you!”

“Silence, my lambs,” Eddie bellowed. “It’s time for the finale. Silence.”

I blinked and sat back. Erica sent me a grin and I reciprocated. There weren’t many cool kids, but she had to be one of them. Only cool kids watched My Little Pony. Eddie gave a recap that I did not understand. A part of me wanted to get a nap, but I knew it would be impossible with how energetic everyone was.

There was some sort of boss and monsters. Everyone was using dice. I knew nothing, but it sounded like the plot of a fantasy action movie. They were killing and perceiving and all that good stuff. I couldn’t help but tune in, digesting everything I could.

“The hooded cultists chant, ‘Hail Lord Vecna. Hail Lord Vecna.’” I was on the edge of my seat. I had no idea what was going on, but I knew it was juicy. “They turn to you and remove their hoods. You recognize most of them from Makbar. But there is one you do not recognize, his skin shriveled, desiccated. And something else. He’s not only missing his left arm, but his left eye!”

Everyone began to clamor and shout and I couldn’t help but gasp quietly and cover my mouth. I was so confused but I knew that was dramatic. Eddie covered his eye and pulled from behind the board a small statue.

“Vecna’s dead!”

“He was killed by Gas!”

“So it was thought, my friends. So it was thought. But Vecna lives!”

He rose to his feet, slamming it onto the small throne on the board. Everyone fell silent, clearly in shock. My heart beat accelerated and I couldn’t remove my hands from my mouth nor blink. I was entranced by the creativity of the game.

“You are scared. You are tired. You are injured,” Eddie continues. “Do you flee Vecna and his cultists? Or stand your ground and fight?”

“I say we fight,” Dustin rallied. “To the death!”

Everyone started chanting, and I even released a quiet chant. Only once, but Eddie seemed to have caught it sending me a wink. I felt rather bashful, giggling. Eddie collapsed back in his seat, his expression high from the glee. The battle continued. Erica was kicking ass with her rolls, since I figured that the higher the number the better the roll and damage.

The turns passed and Mike ended up dead. Another friend did too. Some of the cultists had been killed, and half of them had died.

Only Erica and Dustin remained. Panicked, one of them called for a time out. Everyone huddled up away from the table, and I could only watch in amusement. I was starting to catch onto what was going on, but regardless, it was more exciting to watch than basketball.

“So?” Eddie muttered, leaning over to me. His eyes finally flitted in my direction, scanning me up and down.

I tilted my head. “So what?”

“Are you in?”

I was taken aback by his words. “You mean, like, in this club?”

He shrugged, sending me a sly grin. “Yeah. I don’t just invite anyone willy-nilly.”

“Well, you’ve made it clear that I’m not ‘willy-nilly’ to you,” I giggled anxiously. “I wish I could, but I know nothing.”

“I could teach you.”

“I don’t have time.”

“We could make time.”

“I have cheerleading practice.”

“Not during the spring break.”

“My boyfriend would find out.”

“Let him.”

His words resonated with me and I became nervous. Chance was a great guy and we loved each other. But he couldn’t find out I had even a single conversation with Eddie Munson that he hadn’t been the one to engage in. Chance hated Eddie. And, he was usually sweet, but when he was angry…

My face fell and I thought back to that one time. I dreaded a repeat.

Eddie quirked a brow, noticing my shining mood. His rings twinkled in the candle light and he leaned over, closer. Some of his hair fell on my shoulder and I shrank against the seat. I shook my head defeatedly.

“Can you at least tell me why?”

He almost seemed hurt by my decision. He rested his arm on the table, half trapping me against the chair. His eyes searched my expression for an answer, but I could only bite my lip and shake my head.

“…Sorry. It’s just a little embarrassing.”

“Just look at me. I’m a walking embarrassment,” he quipped softly.

I grinned, insisting,” So am I. It’s just super embarrassing.”

Eddie sighed and sat back against his chair. He replied the kids were still chatting and he suddenly slammed his hands and stood up. “Hey!”

Everyone turned to him.

“If I may interject, gentlemen, Lady Applejack. Whilst I respect the passion, you’d be wise to take Gareth the Great’s concern to heart. There is no shame in running. Don’t try to be heroes. Not today, ‘kay?” He tilted his head and strained a smile.

Clearly he hadn’t liked my answer and it was plain on his face. My heart beat erratically in my chest. Silence fell over the room before Dustin pointed at him.

“One sec.”

They huddled again. I wanted to cheer the poor guy up since he was doing a great job… doing his thing? I sent him a strained smile and pointed at the twenty-sided dice. Eddie quirked a brow.

“So, uh, you guys use dice. That’s rad.”

He snorted, lip twitching. “If I wasn’t so biased, you’d be escorted out immediately for having such little knowledge of the game.”

I laughed,” That’s what I’m saying. I’m not sure why you were so insistent on me showing up.”

“Oh, you know why. Your presence…” He raised his hands and did some sort of odd flowing jazz hands. “…is a blessing.”

Suddenly, Dustin swerved. The pair looked determined and Eddie’s attention was drawn back to them. “Let’s kill the son of a bitch.”

“The chances of success are twenty to one!” one of his friends intervened.

“Never. Tell me. The odds.”

“Give me the D-twenty,” Dustin demanded.

Nobody moved to their seats. Everyone was on edge, including me. Dustin, with a serious expression, began rolling the dice vigorously.

And then, he released.

The dice skidded across the table, and Eddie, with his head shaking energetically, announced,” That’s a miss!”

Everyone shouted. I assumed now it was Erica’s turn. I could only hope that she got the required fifteen or above. She looked so confident and peaceful. We watched and waiting. My heart beat erratically, even if it was jut a silly board game.

She released the dice.

And she rolled a natural D-twenty.

Eddie was as shocked as I was. The kids were cheering and celebrating, while it was like Eddie had a goddamn seizure. I couldn’t help but join in with the clapping.

“And that’s why we play!” Eddie announced, bowing and sweeping his arms outward.

#yandere #x y/n #x reader #self insert #yandere slashers #yandere x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things s4 #me with demigorgons from stranger things and the alien from the aliens movie #yandere stranger things #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson #yandere eddie munson #eddie munson x reader

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her-favorite · 1 year

Text

Bad Day

Tate Langdon x F!Ghost!Reader

Summary: i want tate to cuddle me and listen to nirvana with him so why not write about both in one !!

Warnings: just fluff!

Requested?: no

a/n: ive been getting back into a bad state lately and i really need tate to hold me rn

You sat on your bed, looking between different CD’s as time passed by. You hadn’t had a productive day, not that you could, being stuck in this house for eternity.

You haven’t left your room the past few days, besides to get food or go to the bathroom. You didn’t particularly know what was wrong, but you didn’t really care. You would sulk in your room and sit there until night falls and do the same thing the day after.

Before you could drown in your thoughts again, you saw someone standing in the corner of your room. Your eyes shot up, met with a tall, curly blonde that was looking back at you. He had a hint of a smile on his face. You looked next to him, and on his left spelled ‘I Love You’ on the chalkboard. You let out a breathy laugh, picking up the CD’s and putting them on your nightstand.

“Hey, Tate.” Your voice was weak from not speaking often in the past few days. It almost came out as a whisper.

You tried to ignore the way his eyebrows furrowed and how the curve in his lips faltered. Tate always knew when you didn’t feel good. You’ve both been dead for years, stuck in this torturous house for eternity. He’s known about your problems and about your emotions. He watches you so closely that he knows how to read you perfectly. The day that you and your family stepped foot in this house, not too long after Tate had been shot, he had an immediate attraction to you. He was still getting used to being a ghost and roaming around the long halls with the deafening silence. He knew that he had to have you and protect you from the other evil spirits in this house.

He started to walk over to you, crawling on the bed to sit beside you. You finished putting the CD’s away, turning back to face your boyfriend. Once you sat face to face with him, you knew that you weren’t going to get far without having to tell him what was bothering you.

“Tate, I’m fine.” You try and convince him; it clearly didn’t work. He scooted closer to you, taking your hands in his. The cold touch of his fingers and the snake ring on his thumb made you shiver.

“Y/N, you know that you can talk to me. I’m always here, baby, you know that.” His thumbs rubbed over the top of your hands, trying his best to soothe you.

Before you could control it, your emotions poured out. You bottled it up too much these past days and you couldn’t handle it anymore. Tears overflowed your cheeks, staining your face with your sadness. You hated feeling vulnerable with others, but with Tate, it felt different. It felt safe.

“Sweetheart,” He sighed, his tone sad. He leaned against your headboard, wrapping his arms around you, bringing your body against his. He rubbed your back, feeling your tears stain his sweater. Your hand clutched the soft fabric, nudging your nose into his chest. His fingers brushed through your hair, occasionally getting rid of random knots he finds. His other hand alternating between rubbing your back and moving down to hold your thigh. He pressed kisses against your head, whispering sweet things in your ear.

“What happened, princess? What’s wrong?” He looks down at you, watching you calm down slowly. You take deep breaths, drawing random shapes with your fingers on your boyfriend’s shirt.

“I don’t know. I just.. I’ve felt so empty lately. I’m not sad, but i’m not happy. I just don’t feel.. right.” You tried your best to explain your feelings. Tate nodded along, watching you closely. He was still stroking your hair, listening to everything you said. Tate always paid close attention to anything you ranted about. Whether it was about music, a show, some drama you heard on the street, anything. Whatever you had to say always fascinated Tate.

“You mean everything to me. I know how that feels, baby, and I’m so sorry that you feel like this right now. I would do anything to take this pain away. Just know that I’m always here. As soon as I hear you say my name, I immediately know to come to you. You are everything that I have and if something were to happen to you.. I wouldn’t forgive myself. I love you so much, Y/N. You bring out the best in me.” He confesses as he zones out, staring into the distance. You look up at him with new unshed tears in your eyes, but this time, happy tears. You knew Tate loved you, he said it, he expresses it, but it’s never truly hit you until right now.

You move your body up, catching his attention and breaking his stare with the wall. He’s taken back when you press your lips on his, but quickly going with it. He takes your waist in his hands and brings you closer to him, if possible. Your hands cup his face, pulling away when all of your breath is stolen.

Before you had a second thought, Tate’s hands on your hips tighten and pull you off of him. “What’s wrong?” You ask, anxiety rising as you watch him walk over to your desk on the other side of the room. He grabs your ipod, giving you a smirk as he plugs it in.

‘Heart-Shaped Box’ by Nirvana started to course through the room. You smiled, getting out of bed. As soon as your feet touched the cold wood, Tate took your hands in his and pulled you close to him. You both laughed as you guys danced. You both weren’t good whatsoever, so it was even more fun to just let loose.

Once the song was over, he brought you into his chest. You wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head against him.

“I love you so much, Y/N. I’ll always be there for you. Always.”

#kendras stories #evan peters #evan peters smut #evan peters x y/n #evan peters x reader #evan peters fluff #tate langdon x you #tate langdon #evan peters imagine #evan peters x you #tate langdon x y/n #tate langdon x reader #ahs murder house #tate langdon smut #tate ahs

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cringecannon · 7 months

Note

ive been reading ur posts for a while and i had a vision from god recently that i needed to share with like minds, so i hope this will be to ur taste... i've been trying to find others who i know this will appeal to (besides me)

but...... bhaalcest-- orin being incredibly possessive over durge and jealous over gortash and durge's relationship, so she changes into gortash when she knows durge is expecting him and has her way with durge, while they're none the wiser.

for the sake of everyone else (and urself) i wont get into the nasty gorey parts that really makes this so much better, i love me some knife"play" (is it really play if orin just outright stabs u) and woundfucking (that i really want to get into but!!!!! i have to find the right audience... hoping i can rant insanely about all that here i just didn't wanna outright plop it down when this scene is good by itself too LJDLASJFAL) -👻

To be fair, I already wrote about Orin fingering a wound. I’m all for insane fucked up knifeplay rants in my inbox. Anyway, obligatory Dubcon, Orin, and Improper Use of Gortash’s Body warning

Something’s wrong with Enver.

You only notice it sometimes. The look in his eyes is wrong, or his grip on you is far too tight. Whenever you mention the change in demeanor, he brushes it off. Or he gets angry. Yelling, throwing things, veins in his throat bulging kind of angry. There’s something wrong with him. The man you know wouldn’t act like this.

You love it.

You almost pounce on him the first time it happens, so turned on you don’t even bother removing anything but the bare necessities. He’s confused for only a moment, but quickly falls into place. You ride him until his eyes roll back, nails digging so hard into your hips that they draw blood. You leave your own bloody scratches down his chest, marking him.

Imagine your surprise when you get to see him again a few days later and the marks are gone completely. It throws you off- your hips are still bruised. You call him out on it, he waves his hand and says he had an image to uphold. He can’t walk around looking like he was attacked by a feral cat. The comment irritates you. You like seeing him marked up, proof that he’s yours. You reach for your knife subtly. You think he needs to be reminded of your real claws.

You’re frozen when instead an ornate dagger is suddenly held to your throat. That bastard. He’s stolen your trick.

He presses the point of it to your throat, drawing blood. You feel the warm drip of it down your skin and into your shirt. You should kill him for this. You should play in his guts while he begs for the mercy of death. However, feeling him cut through your clothes with no regard for your safety excites you more. Every thin slice into your skin as he hurries to get you nude is exhilarating. You’ll get him back for it, eventually. You just need him inside you.

He shoves you back hard, splaying you out on the table. You eagerly spread your legs for him, throwing your head back with a gasp when he bends down to lick the trail of blood all the way back up to your neck.

He groans into your ear, hips grinding against yours with a stuttered breath. He wants to savor your blood, forever remember it staining your pretty skin. He leans to the side to hold the dagger against your stomach, dragging the blade across it teasingly. The cut is thin, barely drawing blood. You arch your back, desperate for more. He laughs breathlessly, pulling the dagger away to instead hold it over your thigh. You ask what's gotten into him. He laughs again, biting down on your shoulder. He asks a question of his own- how far would you let him go?

The dagger dances on your skin and you writhe, holding back a grin. Anything. You'd let him do anything, so long as you could play with him too. He groans, mouthing at the junction where your shoulder meets your neck. Of course. It'd only be fair, he wants you to play in his blood too. Wouldn't it be divine, love?

He's never called you love, ever. You're not sure he's called anyone love in his life, but when the blade finally bites into your flesh... you can't seem to make yourself care. You just beg for more.

#this is so hard to tag. orin isn’t revealed a single time but also This Isn’t Gortash #.orin the red #.bg3 #notsfw #👻 anon

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vivaladicamillo · 1 year

Note

Dude! I need a smutty and fluffy Headcannon of Ryan taking care of the reader who is his girlfriend and a female cast mate while she’s drunk as hell while out with the guys

RYAN DUNN TAKING CARE OF A DRUNK!READER

ive been super duper sick these past days and now that i actually have free time i can write abt ryan !!!!! i love him literally so much thank u for requesting this!!!

WARNINGS: talks of alcohol, drunk sex, and cursing

———————————————————

SFW:

ok so yall are out with the guys

yall prob go to some cheap ass bar just to drink yk

turns out you had a little too many

nah a little is a understatement

u were stumbling, slurring and obviously wasted

ryan takes notice of this right away

bam starts picking on u and yk, being bam

“u cant hold ur alcohol for shit y/n”

ryan has to get him to stop so he can take u home

ryan would take u home ( or carry bc u literally cant stand up )

he finds out ur a very touchy person when ur drunk

not jn a weird way tho

just hugging and rambling abt how cool ryan is and how hes the best

even though ur literally talking to ryan

he thinks its cute

“nonono u don understand, dunn is literally the BEST person like ever to exist~”. “trust me y/n i understand” he says through a chuckle

will either go through ur draws to find you something to wear to sleep if ur at ur home or give u some on his old boxers and a old le tigre band tee he has

lets u go get changed (if u can) if not he will help u

he just wants u to he safe and comfortable

he will tuck u into bed and put medicine and a glass of water next to ur bedside just bc he knows ur gonna be FUCKEDD in the morning

will sleep on the couch even if its ur house just so he knows ur ok in the morning and don’t accidentally choke on ur vomit or something like that

hes definitely a over thinker when it comes to that stuff

NSFW:

ok different scene here

yall end up going to ryans hpuse just to hang and watch a movie or something

ofc u guys had some drinks

and ofc yall end up getting wasted

at this point in the night the movie is long over

u guys are just cracking jokes and laughing and just talking

he probably ends up accidentally confessing first

“ heheh, you know y/n ur like the most perfect person ever.” “ryyyyy stawppp thats not truee” “absolutely it is, everything about u is perfect, ur personality, ur looks, ur humor..”

god he will go on and on abt how ur perfect and how he really does love u

“well y/n.. i’ve actually liked u fooooorr quite some time now ive just had zero confidence to tell you” he says slurring

ur kinda taken aback

ryan mother fucking dunn

LIKES U??

the kid who u have liked since highschool LIKES U??

u admit that u have had a mega crush on him for a while now

but he honestly wasnt even paying attention to ur speech

hes just admiring you

and ur lips

mostly ur lips

“y/n,, can i kiss u right now?”

you two end up making out on his couch

then he carries u to the bedroom

i personally think ryan is sweet as can be during sex sober but drunk ryan is A WHOLE NEW LEVEL

hes just a wreck when it comes to u

he would literally do anything for u

lots and lots of grabbing and touching

he just wants to stay like this with u forever

sloppy kisses is a must

also A LOT OF PRAISE

i feel like when hes drunk though he just fucks faster yk?

he goes as a faster pace then he normally would

he also probably doesnt last as long as he usually does

u just feel so good how could he resist

cums on ur stomach or in a condom if hes wearing one.

is probably gonna pick uo a random old shirt on the ground and clean u up with it

HES A STINKY GUY WHAT DID U EXPECT??

after that, u will be stuck in a bear hug the rest of the night

lots of forehead and cheek kisses too

the next morning yall honestly don’t remember the night before

so waking up in ryans arms is a bit of a surprise at first

but when he wakes up and smiles at you

you feel happy

you finally got him, the guy u always wanted, and it only took some liquid courage to do so

———————————————————

hopefully i did think correctly and right 🙏 making more ryan hcs soon

#god i love him #omg i miss ryan :(#i need a man like him frfr #jackass #cky crew #cky x reader #ryan dunn #cky4 #cky2k #cky3 #cky clip #ryan dunn x reader #ryan dunn x reader smut

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mamimiou · 2 months

Note

hi this is re: roier but too long for a reply !

ive been out of qsmp for awhile and don't pay attention anymore but i wanna just like . place this quietly into the conversation lmfao... when i was watching and seeing things fans posted, i noticed roier is routinely feminized (a combo of misogyny/homophobia + racism) he's placed as "the woman" in the spiderbit relationship constantly in fan art etc. roier as a person irl isn't particularly feminine, but bc he's expressive and openly queer and not white, he's placed as Less Than and under more scrutiny constantly . there's a lot of complex things happening but the usamerican portion of the qsmp world does a lot of heavy lifting in misconstruing roier's character (too flirty, bad parent, too cruel, too harsh, slutty, the wife, whatever else he's gotten that i haven't seen) . so. if he's the woman of the relationship, and Women Belong To Their Husbands, well. they couldn't possibly see roier with anyone else, and it's his fault if others make advances. it's very strange to witness

I feel like I have just received a new point of view right now, and it has blown my mind away to the point where I need this plastered over Twitter (which won’t happen since it is HELL out there).

I have never thought of it this way because I never saw him like that but you are so right now that I put more thought into it ;-;. They really do see him as the woman of the relationship, and I’m pretty sure that it’s something subconscious for all of them (but not all).

Thank you so much for this, really. To me, this makes the most sense for this possessive behavior. Idk if you have read the comments in my last post but someone tweeted out this when talking about why they can’t see roier with someone else “SAME HERE but I have a theory! You know how you ship the character you relate to with the caracter you're attracted to? We probably relate to Cellbit so we ship him with everyone we like, and we're jealous of "our" partner being with others.... just a theory!” And to me that was already something, but this, this is something that I can totally see behind the reason for it all.

The amount of times that I had to read people blaming him for people flirting with him, just even receiving compliments really, but had to witness those same people laugh and make jokes about slime ACTIVELY going after cellbit, is insane.

I totally agree with you btw. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. As someone who watches him constantly I can agree with you, his character is actively feminine. It just stinks having your favorite character being seen like this, it makes me so upset sometimes I just want him to be FREE lol. I don’t think that people stop drawing him in this small, feminine way, until like purgatory maybe? Because well, he’s a strong character.

Everyone knows how flirty he is, but it was expected to go away as soon as he got married. And he never means harm :/ it’s just the way he is. It is very strange to watch people get possessive over him, and I feel like this will ultimately lead to the ship ending. Heartbreaking. If people actually knew his character, they’d know he hates betrayal so it makes no sense for them to get tilted over ships.

Sometimes you just want to have honest conversations about the characters, and Twitter isn’t the place because then they accuse you of hating the CCs which isn’t the case ☹️.

But wow, this explanation could actually be the reason behind it. Thank you for this, it like opened my third eye or something. I need this plastered on a build board for all to see.

#qsmp #qsmp roier #spiderbit

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