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evansbby · 1 year

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𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐲 (𝐏𝐎𝐘𝐓 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐧-𝐨𝐟𝐟)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: alpha!Bucky Barnes x naive omega!Reader, also featuring: dark alpha!Steve Rogers

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Misogyny, a/b/o dynamics, dubcon, dark Steve, poyt!Steve (yes, he is a warning), mentions of smutt, 18+ minors dni.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s your first day at college and Bucky, a popular alpha, asks for your number. (This is a spin-off of my fic Preying on You Tonight, exploring what would have happened if Bucky had gotten to omega before Steve. You do not need to read that fic to understand this one).

𝐀/𝐍: It’s finally here! As the writer, all I sincerely ask is for you to read it till the end. I put a lot of hard work into this and it’s been a long time coming. I really hope you give this fic a chance, and I hope you enjoy! This is 16.8k words.

It’s gonna be okay, it’s gonna be okay, it’s gonna be okay. You quietly chant under your breath as you make your way into the intimidatingly large lecture hall. World Politics. It’s a senior class, mostly males, majority alphas. But you’ve managed to get in – the only freshman who was accepted – and it makes your heart flutter with excitement. Maybe they’ll all be impressed, you think to yourself, clutching your bookbag tightly as you make your way inside.

Everyone’s already sat down or milling about in groups. You shoot a few smiles here and there, hoping someone might smile back – but everyone seems busy catching up with their own friends. You sigh – of course, you don’t expect to make friends right away. But you probably will soon.

There’s a pack of intimidating looking guys in the back of the room, they draw your attention because of how loud they’re being as they laugh and joke around. Football players, you think to yourself – they’re all wearing blue jerseys with the university emblem. And they’re all so big and broad. There’s a blond one who seems bigger and scarier than all of them, and there’s also a brunet – also big and intimidating but he looks slightly more laid back than the others.

You snap your head away as soon as he looks in your direction, feeling your cheeks heat up. You’re confident you’ll make friends, but it probably won’t be anyone from the resident campus jock group. Not wasting any more time, you make your way to the front of the lecture hall and take a seat in the very first row. Hopefully, someone else would join you and you could strike up a conversation.

You’re arranging your pens in colour order when your phone vibrates.

Peter: Good luck, babe! I know first days can be hard, but you’re gonna smash it! See you tonight!

Smiling softly, you text your boyfriend a quick response before putting your phone away – the lecture is about to start and you don’t want to miss a single word.

A chorus of loud snickers makes you look back over your shoulder. It’s the group of jock alphas – they’re only a couple of rows behind you now, laughing over something while they look in your direction. You suddenly feel self-conscious, looking over your hoodie for any stains, eyes scanning around your vicinity for anything remotely funny.

You’ve just given up and gone back to opening your notebook when you feel a tap on your shoulder. It’s the brunet alpha, he’s standing next to your desk with a cocky smile on his face.

“Hey, newbie.”

You smile shyly, “Hi.”

“YOU’RE SUCH A DOG, BARNES!” One of the alpha jocks hoots from the back and all the rest of the pack guffaws too, some even making barking sounds. It causes the smile to freeze on your face.

The brunet laughs in his friends’ direction before turning back to you, “Ignore them. You a transfer student or something?”

“No. I’m a freshman. This is my first day.”

“Freshman, huh?” He licks his lips. He’s got nice lips; you think to yourself before inwardly shaking your head in alarm. You have a boyfriend, you remind yourself. But the brunet in front of you also has nice eyes, you can’t help but notice. Light blue and shining, along with scruffy brown hair and a smattering of facial hair. “What’s a little freshman like you doing here? You realise this is a senior class? Are you lost, newbie?”

“No, not lost, I’m meant to be here.” You tell him firmly, “I was interested in this class so I applied for it. I was the only freshman to be accepted.” You hope it doesn’t sound like you’re boasting, you can’t help but feel proud about it.

The brunet nods thoughtfully, “No kidding. You must be very smart.”

You shrug modestly.

“What’s your name, newbie?”

You tell him and he nods, repeating it to himself slowly as if he’s savouring the word.

“I’m James.” He says, “I mean, everyone calls me Bucky but you can call me James.”

You giggle nervously, “Wh-Why do I get to call you that?”

His smile is lop-sided and lazy, and you can’t help but stare. It brightens up his whole face, painting an image of mischief across his features. But he’s not intimidating, not like his friends who continue to hoot and yell behind him. You feel fire on your cheeks because he looks kind of… cute.

Wait. What?

“Pretty girls like you are allowed to call me James.”

The professor chooses that moment to clear his throat as he begins to start up the PowerPoint presentation.

“Well, anyways, newbie. I just came over to say hello. And while I’m here, I was wondering if I could borrow a pen. I forgot mine and you seem to have… a lot.” He gestures to your collection of pens – you have one in just about every colour of the rainbow.

You nod eagerly – you hadn’t expected an alpha jock to be the first one to speak to you at college, but you weren’t complaining.

“Sure! Take your pick,” You say enthusiastically “The blue one doesn’t work too well, but the rest are all good! If you prefer ink pens over ballpoint, I’ve got those too!”

“What about this pink one?”

“Oh,” Your response is less than enthusiastic, “I mean… I always use the pink one. But if you really want it–”

He laughs, reaching out and patting your hand softly. And the touch, despite being seemingly innocuous, sends thrills up and down your spine. You can’t help but think how much bigger his hand is than yours.

“That’s alright, sweetheart. You use the pink one. I’ll take this one instead.” He grabs a green pen, and that’s when you get a strong whiff of his scent. Smoky yet dewy – like a cosy fireplace on a winter morning. Fresh like snow mixing with the earth, like cold rain mingling with a special kind of musk.

Bucky seems to notice how you suddenly pause, your nose twitching as you repeatedly inhale his scent. He chuckles softly, waving a hand in front of your face, “Hey, you still there?”

You shake your head, giving yourself a moment to gather yourself before looking up at him, “Yeah, uh. Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good. Because the lecture’s about to start, and you look like someone who doesn’t want to miss a word.” He winks, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t send shivers of excitement up and down your spine, “Well, thanks for the pen, newbie.”

And then he goes back to join his friends, leaving you with a lightness in your heart, a spark in your eyes and a smile on your lips. You’d always thought jocks were mean, but Bucky – James – had been nice. Maybe it was a sign, a sign that your first year of university perhaps wouldn’t be as daunting as you originally thought.

You risk a glance back at him. He’s sat a few rows behind you, next to his blond friend. The two couldn’t be more different – with Bucky sitting back, relaxed and laughing, the pen you gave him dangling out of his mouth like a cigarette. The blond sits up straight with rigid posture, and he looks sullen, a touch of a scowl on his face as he looks at Bucky. And then he turns, piercing blue eyes glaring right at you.

You turn back to look in front. That can’t be right. This blond jock doesn’t even know you. Sighing, you begin to take notes, the world of politics taking over as you excitably fill page after page.

You’re immensely satisfied when the class ends – it was everything you wanted it to be and more. With the risk of sounding like a nerd – and you are a nerd, you’ll happily admit it – you’d enjoyed every second of the lecture, soaking in every word like a sponge. If this is what all university classes were going to be like, you’d stay forever.

“You look happy, newbie.” It’s Bucky again; the rest of his group is milling around by the exit, and you can’t deny the thrill you feel at the fact that he hung back with you.

“I am happy, wasn’t that just the most fascinating lecture ever? I mean, I’d heard things about this professor, that he’s so mesmerising to listen to. And it’s true!” You sigh almost dreamily, hugging your fresh notes close to your chest, “I feel like I’ve learnt more in this past hour than I did in the entirety of my high school history class.”

Bucky just stares at you, a smile on his face that reaches all the way up, making the sides of his eyes crinkle.

“What?” You ask consciously when he continues to just… look at you.

“Nothing. You’re just very cute, all bright-eyed and enthusiastic. Not like us jaded seniors.”

“BUCKY, LET’S GO.” As if on cue, the blond alpha bellows across the lecture hall.

Bucky seems wholly unperturbed, even as you jump from the loudness of the blonde’s tone.

“Your friend’s calling you,” You shuffle from one foot to the other, unable to ignore how the blond alpha is glaring at the pair of you all the way from the doorway, “He seems really impatient.”

With a wave of his hand, Bucky dismisses this claim, “Oh, don’t mind Steve. He’s just pissy these days because his girlfriend’s being a bitch.”

Oh. You have no idea what to say to that, so you just continue to pack up your things.

“So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“I’m gonna head over to the library,” You answer excitedly, “I’ve heard it’s really, really big. One of the biggest in the country. I got a glimpse of it during orientation, but I’ve got the rest of the day free so today I’m gonna sit in there and catch up on some reading, and may–”

“Why don’t I walk you there?” The brunet offers. And it’s his quiet confidence that gets to you, the way he’s got this small smile on his face, as if he knows you won’t refuse him, “I have a class in that direction anyways. Steve does too. We could both walk you there.”

You glance once more at Steve, who – believe it or not – is still glaring at you. Or are you imagining it? You’re about to respond when a tall blonde girl in a cheerleading uniform skips up to him. They kiss, and then leave the lecture hall hand-in-hand. You turn back to Bucky, who shrugs.

“Well. Scratch that. I guess it’s just you and me then, newbie. C’mon. I’ll give you a campus tour.”

Talking with Bucky is surprisingly simple. He’s easy-going and laidback, completely cool in the way he makes conversation. Talking about himself but at the same time asking you questions about your life. You’ve always been shy but you find yourself at ease with him, you find yourself laughing at his jokes… You even catch yourself staring at him more than a few times, completely captured by his pretty eyes and lazy smile.

“I’m mostly friends with everyone on the football team, but Steve’s my best friend,” He nods at the blond alpha who’s walking a few paces ahead of you two, hand-in-hand with the cheerleader who you assume is his girlfriend. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. And then there’s Sam, but he’s hungover so he didn’t come in today.” Bucky’s eyes crinkle as he laughs, “Classic Sam.

The walk to the library is over a little too soon.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in the next lecture. Thanks for walking with me.” You say, backing away but not wanting to completely leave just yet.

“Princess, wait.” He grabs your hand, yanking you back till you’re only a few inches away from him. And maybe it’s the shock due to the fact that he called you princess, but you just… let him do it. He grins down at you.

“You’re not gonna leave without giving me your number first, are you?”

You giggle nervously, and you’re surprised that you have to swallow down the words ‘yes, I’ll give you my number’ which are on the tip of your tongue. Instead, you shake your head slowly, “I, uh, I have a boyfriend.”

The alpha blinks, hand freezing midway through running through his hair. But then he relaxes, and that familiar lazy smile returns to his face. “So? Can’t friends save each other’s numbers? We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

You feel heat rising up your neck and spreading to your cheeks, “Oh. Of course. I guess we are. Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed–”

“No worries, princess.” He takes your phone, quickly putting in his number and texting himself from yours before handing it back to you. “Your boyfriend’s a lucky guy, by the way. But I’m sure he won’t mind if I text you tonight, right?”

Bucky doesn’t wait for an answer, instead just winking at you before taking off. And you stand outside the steps of the library and watch him for a second. He catches up with Steve and gives him a hard thump on the back before falling into step next to him. Steve still has a scowl on his face but it slowly dissipates, and you watch for a moment as the two alphas talk animatedly. Even if Bucky hadn’t told you earlier, it was clear as day that the they were best friends.

It takes you a while to realise that you’re staring, and you quickly retreat into the library, the magical pull of books and knowledge sucking you in and making you forget about everything else.

***

“I’d say it was a good first day, as far as first days go.” You deduce, walking into the living room with a bowl of popcorn in your hands. You hand it over to Peter, who’s scrolling through Netflix in search of the perfect movie. Which is an impossible task since the two of you had seen practically everything Netflix had to offer – you guys had more movie nights then you did date nights. Actually, you can’t remember the last time you and Peter had gone out on a date. The thought seemed weird… you were much more comfortable sitting on the couch and gorging on popcorn and talking the night away with him – like you were right now.

“That’s good. Did you make any friends?”

You think back to Bucky’s twinkling blue eyes and feel a jolt of electricity run through you. Bucky was your friend, right? He’d said so. But for reasons you don’t quite understand, you only clear your throat and shake your head. “No. I talked to a few people but that’s all. I mean, it’s only day one, right? Nobody makes friends on day one.”

“True.” Peter agrees, his mouth full of popcorn. “Okay, so, I’m thinking it’s a teen dystopian movie kind of night. Hunger Games or Divergent?”

Your brow furrows while you think, “I don’t like Divergent and I’ve seen The Hunger Games way too many times.”

“Okay, how about Catching Fire?”

“The ending of that one makes me sad.”

You bicker back and forth before settling down with Alice in Wonderland, and the popcorn is half finished by the time the beginning credits start rolling. And that’s when your phone vibrates.

James: Hey, princess. You busy?

A smile touches your lips before you cast a quick glance at Peter. He’s half laid down on the other end of the couch with his eyes locked on the screen. You swallow down the guilt – you know Bucky is just your friend but it still feels kind of wrong to be texting him when you’re meant to be watching a movie with Peter. But there’s a large part of you that wants to answer, and it doesn’t take long for that part of you to win the inner conflict inside your head. You quickly text back:

You: Hey! I’m currently watching a movie with my boyfriend.

Your text is truthful, but you hope Bucky doesn’t think you’re dismissing him. His reply is almost instantaneous:

James: Aw, how cute. What movie is it?

You: Alice in Wonderland. Have you seen it?

You mentally kick yourself after you press send. What a dumb question – of course he’s seen it! Who hasn’t seen one of the most recognisable Disney movies of the last decade?

James: I have. I didn’t know you were such a big fan of cartoons, princess.

You feel the ends of your mouth tugging into a smile before you give Peter another glance. He’s polishing off the last of the popcorn, engrossed in Alice as she tumbles down the rabbit hole. You grab the empty bowl and stand up. “I’ll go make some more popcorn.”

Peter nods, “You want me to pause it?”

“No, that’s alright.”

You float into the kitchen and put another bag of popcorn in the microwave before taking a deep breath and looking down at your phone again.

James: Maybe we could watch a movie sometime? I’ve got a flatscreen in my room ;)

You feel a shiver go down your spine when you read his text, and you let yourself imagine it for a split second. Watching a movie with Bucky. In his bedroom. On his bed? You’d never been to a boy’s room before – except Peter, but he’d been your best friend all through high-school. Sure, he was your boyfriend now but you always do the same things you guys did when you were friends – just with added kissing and sometimes touching.

“Babe, you done?” Peter calls for you as if on cue.

Once more awash with guilt, you quickly type out a text:

You: I’m sorry, I should get back to the movie. Good night :)

You switch your phone off for the rest of the night, trying to focus on Alice’s adventures in wonderland, but the thought of Bucky dwindles at the back of your mind as if it’s there to stay.

***

You plan on avoiding Bucky the next day but that proves to be an extremely flimsy plan. You’re sitting in the front row when him and Steve and another guy – you assume it’s Sam – walk in. You get a pleasant whiff of Bucky’s scent before it’s overpowered by something stronger – the smell of firewood and a hot summer day. They walk by you, with Bucky giving you a small smile and a wink and Steve sucking in a breath, his nostrils twitching as he walks past you. Strange. What was his problem?

You still feel guilty about the previous night. Peter was your first ever relationship so you might not be the biggest expert on these types of things, but you’re sure that getting giddy over another guy texting you is not good girlfriend behaviour. You need to put a swift stop to it, starting now. You spend the rest of the lecture taking notes diligently, stuffing the thought of Bucky to the back of your mind.

When the class ends, you try to scurry away to the library. But you don’t get too far down the corridor before a hand encloses around your wrist and tugs you back.

“Princess, wait up. Where are you hurrying off to?”

“I – uh – I need to go to the library to print something.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, “I’ll walk you.”

“Oh no, that’s okay.”

He looks at you for a handful of seconds before sighing and taking a step back, “This is about last night, isn’t it? My texts scared you off?”

You bite your lip, “James, I have a boyfriend.”

“I know, I know.” He runs a hand through his messy brown hair, shifting from one foot to the other before those icy blue eyes settle on you again. “I’ll be honest, princess. You’re so pretty, I thought I’d shoot my shot anyways.”

Your jaw drops, “B-But I have a boyfriend.”

He shrugs, looking virile and handsome with his facial hair and lazy smile, “That’s never stopped me before. I mean, it’s not really a big thing with me and my friends. If we want a girl, we go after her, boyfriend or not, it doesn’t matter to us.”

“Oh.” You don’t know whether to stay or just leave, and you’re debating over just that when Bucky pipes up again.

“Look, princess. I like you. And I have a hunch that you like me too. And as I said before, I usually don’t care if the girl I like has a boyfriend. But you’re different, I want to do right by you.” He strokes the palm of your hand with his thumb and it’s like you’re mesmerised by the feeling. “I’d really like to take you out sometime. But I can give you time to break up with your boyfriend first.”

You gasp, pulling your hand out of his grasp, “James Barnes! That’s so wrong. You know how awful of a person that would make me? And I barely know you!”

“Just think about it. I really like you.” He says earnestly, blue eyes sparkling and locking with yours as he grabs your hand again, “And breaking up with him will spare this guy the embarrassment of being with a girl who’s no longer into him.”

Your jaw drops open at his audacity, “That’s not true–!”

“Bucky, we have practice.”

Steve rounds the corner, stopping short when he sees the two of you so close, his eyes narrowing as they zero in on your intertwined hands.

“Gimme a sec.” Bucky answers, not even sparing Steve a glance, eyes unblinking as they stare at you meaningfully.

For the second time, you snatch your hand out of his grip. “I-I – uh – I have to go!” You do the easiest thing you can think of, backing away and getting the hell out of there. Bucky’s just dropped a huge bomb on you and Steve’s intimidating as hell, so you deem it best to put some distance between you and the two alphas as you speed-walk away from the situation.

“Why are you talking to that trashy omega?” You hear Steve mutter as you turn your back on them, and the hurtful words make your heart jolt.

“Hey, don’t call her that.” Bucky answers, and that’s the last thing you hear before you round the corner and escape into the comforting clutches of the campus library.

***

So, Bucky liked you. He liked you. As in, he wanted to take you out on a date. This information has you feeling giddier than it should. You’ve never known anyone to like you like that (except Peter) and never so brazenly. You can’t help but feel all light inside. A popular, handsome senior liked you!

But then, the flowy lightness inside you is overtaken by wracks of guilt, showering down on your heart like hard, jagged rocks. You’re with Peter. You like Peter. You can’t get happy over Bucky liking you when you’re with Peter. That’s just a fact.

You lay low for a couple of weeks, avoiding Bucky like he’s the plague. But you know his eyes are on you, glued to the back of your head during every lecture, when you keep your face pointedly facing forward and never look back at him. You can’t. You’re in a relationship. You have to respect it.

But then, things take a different turn than you ever expected them to.

Peter scores an internship at Stark Industries, which means he has to move to New York immediately. And you’re so happy for him, it’s what he’s been working towards and dreaming of for as long as you’ve known him. His goal of tackling the tech world is similar to your own goal of being the first person in your family to earn a university degree. You’re thrilled for him. But sitting on his bed and wistfully watching him pack, it’s like you both know what this means.

The break-up is mutual. Peter says that he’ll be busy with work, and you agree that you’ll be busy with college assignments too. And after one last movie night and a tearful goodbye, you both agree to try to remain best friends. He promises to come see you when he’s got a free moment, and you tell him you’ll travel up to New York once you’ve saved enough money to be able to afford it.

And then he’s gone. Off chasing his dreams and you couldn’t be happier for him.

But now you’re single. And what does that mean for you?

***

Bucky approaches you after spring break, sporting a healthy tan and messier hair. You’d overheard him and his friends talking earlier, so you knew they’d all flown to Cancun for the past week. Lucky them. You’d spent the break studying in your room, making notes for the next set of lectures to make sure you were well-prepared for them.

“Hello, princess. You’re looking extra beautiful today.”

You look down at your old hoodie and ratty leggings and wonder if he’s joking with you. “Uh, thanks?”

“I’m serious. You’re glowing, which can only mean one thing. You broke up with him, didn’t you?” Bucky leans down over your table, giving you a strong whiff of his wintery scent. It’s like freshly powdered snow and warm fire logs, enveloping around you like a welcome hug after your lonely spring break.

You purse your lips together, focusing on your notes except the lecture hasn’t started yet so you have nothing to write down except the date. But you’re determined not to look at him, “Actually, it was mutual.”

Bucky’s grin only gets wider, and to your surprise, he plops down on the empty seat next to you. Your eyes widen, “Wh-What are you doing?”

“What? I can’t sit next to you? Is this seat taken?”

Well, of course it wasn’t. You usually sat alone. Nobody really spoke to you apart from Bucky, but that was okay. It’s not like anyone was ever horrible to you either. Except Steve with that one comment that he’d made the other day. But you must have overheard him wrong.

“So, what did you do over spring break?” He asks.

You shrug, “I read up on the next few chapters on our syllabus.”

Bucky nods, “A quiet week, huh? Well, I wish I’d stayed back too.” He chuckles when he sees your raised eyebrow, “Hey, don’t get me wrong. Cancun’s beautiful, but it gets tiresome after a while. All Steve and Sam ever did was hook up with different girls. Constantly. Me? I just didn’t feel like doing that this time around.”

You frown, casting a short glance at Steve, except you quickly look away because he happens to be staring right back at you. But why was Steve hooking up with other girls? Didn’t he have a girlfriend? You mull over it for a second before you register the other thing Bucky had said. “Y-You didn’t feel like hooking up with anyone?”

The brunet clasps his hand over yours and shoots you a sparkling smile, “Why would I? When my girl wasn’t there with me?”

Bucky takes you out the following weekend. And you don’t know why you agree, when it’s so soon after your breakup with Peter. But when he asks you out, it just feels right, and the word “yes” is flying out of your mouth before you have the chance to think about it. Peter’s probably seeing other people too, you think to yourself. And the thought doesn’t bother you at all, because why shouldn’t Peter have his fun? He was single. And so were you.

Bucky presents you with a bouquet of pink tulips at the start of your date, and sits on your bed with an amused expression on his face while you quickly tend to them. Trimming the stems and finding a vase before setting them on your windowsill. “You look beautiful, princess.” He comments, making your cheeks feel like they’re on fire before he grabs your hand and takes you out.

The diner he takes you to is casual and pretty, only a few minutes outside of campus. The evening sunlight spills down through the window while Bucky brazenly holds your hands in his over the table – even when the waitress is taking your order! It makes you squirm, but in a pleasant kind of way. And he tells you about himself while you eat, how he knows he’s from a privileged family but always felt different growing up.

He tells you about all the mischief he and Steve got up to when they were kids, and then teens, and now young adults. And you can’t really imagine Steve, all stoic and mean and preppy-looking, getting up to any kind of mischief but you smile and nod anyways, loving how Bucky tells his stories in such an easy-going and charming way.

You’re a bit more guarded when he asks you about your childhood, though. You keep it brief and simple, outright evading certain details because you don’t want to get into it right now. But Bucky seems to understand, squeezing your hands before grabbing a napkin and wiping a spot of sauce on the side of your mouth.

He takes you to a nearby park after that. He buys a small loaf of bread so the two of you can feed the ducks. And he never lets go of your hand, and you can feel him watching you as you focus on the ducks gobbling up the pieces of bread. And then he grabs your chin and gently turns your face to him and he kisses you. And it’s sweet. Sweeter than it is with Peter. And you kiss him back, because you like how light and fluffy and exciting it feels to kiss Bucky.

It feels like you’re on cloud nine.

The dates get more frequent after that. Bucky walks you to class every day, holding your hand and talking to you about anything and everything. Like the latest report your class has been assigned, or his football team winning another game, or any new books you’ve read. You find yourself giggling and opening up a lot more, every shy bone in your body relaxing when you’re talking to him.

The kissing and touching becomes more frequent too. Often, he comes to your dorm room and things get hot and heavy. And oh, it’s so exciting feeling Bucky’s hands on you, and his expert kisses leave you breathless! He really was an incredible kisser, taking control and moving his tongue so lazily and perfectly against yours. But something within you always stops him before he can go any further.

“Bucky, please. I just got out of a relationship and I don’t know if I’m ready for sex.” You tell him truthfully one evening while he’s got you pinned down on your bed in the middle of a particularly passionate make-out session.

Bucky lies back down beside you while you fix the buttons of your cardigan which he’d almost had undone. He reaches down to adjust his boner through his jeans, “Princess, you’re killing me here. I want you so bad.”

You swallow, “I’m sorry, James. I just don’t think I’m ready.”

Light blue eyes smile down at you as the alpha sits up and grabs your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t apologise, princess. I understand.”

“I just feel bad, I don’t want you to think I’m leading you on.” You duck your head, but he grabs your chin and lifts it up again, making you look at him.

“I’ll be honest, I don’t think I’ve gone out this long with a girl without sleeping with her.” Bucky confesses, scratching his head with a sheepish look on his face. “I haven’t been a great boyfriend in the past, and my motives have usually been selfish.”

Your eyes grow wide, but you don’t say anything.

“I’m telling you this because I care about you, princess. I think you’re different.” He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and chucks you under your chin till you smile. “I like talking to you and spending time with you. You’re smart and beautiful and I know we haven’t been together long, but I really see a future for us.” He kisses you sweetly, and you’re too busy trying to tame the butterflies in your stomach to respond properly, but you try your best anyways.

“What I’m saying is, you can take all the time you need till you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere, and I’ll wait as long as I have to till you’re ready to have sex.” Bucky finishes earnestly, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around his neck and plant a million kisses on his face. He’s saying all the right things, everything a girl wants to hear from her boyfriend.

“You really mean all that?” You ask him softly.

“Yes, princess, I mean it. You’re my girlfriend, and I’ll wait for you for as long as you need.” Bucky looks earnest and sweet, and you hug him hard. You feel a mix of thrill and nervous energy flutter through you. It’s something you’ve never felt before. But it’s a good feeling, and you welcome it with open arms as Bucky continues to leave tiny kisses all over your face. Till you’re giggling against his lips and hugging him close, feeling lighter than a feather.

***

Being the girlfriend of a popular senior was not something you’d envisioned happening to you at the start of university. But Bucky made it feel so natural, introducing you to all his friends, holding your hand all the time and including you in all his plans. His friends are nice enough: Sam was a bit cold at first but he warmed up after a while. Thor was loud and funny, Ransom acted overly smart and confident but seemed to have a sensitive side too. Curtis was mysterious and Andy was kind of dopey, and they were all friendly with you.

But then there was Steve.

The blonde alpha glowered at you any chance he got. Whenever you were in his presence, you could feel his steely blue eyes boring holes straight through your skin. You always kept out of his way so you were unsure why he seemed to hate you. Bucky just said not to take it personally, that Steve was just going through a rough patch with his girlfriend and he didn’t hate you at all.

One day, you’d gone over to Bucky’s house where he – unfortunately – lived with Steve and Sam too.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Steve had demanded when he’d opened the door and seen you standing there.

“Uh… James to-told me to meet him here after my morning classes.” You explain, feeling oddly nervous around the big alpha. You’re naturally shy but you’d come out of your shell quite a bit ever since you’d started dating Bucky. But Steve was just so intimidating, standing there in just a pair of grey sweats that are slung low over his hips. You avert your gaze to the ground in a bid not to stare at his bare chest.

Steve regards you suspiciously before stepping aside and letting you in. And you feel his heated gaze still on you as you brush past him to get inside. And that’s when you hear him inhale sharply, a low rumble coming from his chest before he stumbles. You whip around just in time to see him recover, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Are you okay?”

Steve scoffs, “Why the hell wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Uh… You kinda just tripped?” You point out hesitantly, and the blonde alpha’s pale face goes crimson before he clears his throat.

“I did not trip.” He glowers through gritted teeth.

Okay then. You decide not to question his rude and erratic behaviour. “Where is James’ room?”

Steve glances upstairs before leaning against the kitchen counter, his intense gaze locking on you as his frown relaxes into a smirk. “He’s taking a shower right now. You should wait for him down here.”

“Okay.” You sit down at the kitchen table. The house is big, spacious and minimalistic in the way it’s decorated. The kitchen is modern and it’s clear that there’s only boys living here, because you can see a ton of takeout containers and microwave meals strewn across the countertops. Once you’re done observing your surroundings, you notice Steve still staring at you.

“So, you’re Bucky’s girlfriend now, huh?” He breaks the silence.

“Yes.”

“Strange. I never thought he’d go for someone like you.”

Your brows knit together into a frown as a pang of hurt echoes inside you, “Wh-What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs, and you try not to focus on his broad, muscular shoulders. But it’s not easy to just look at his face either, because he’s so intimidating. He runs a hand through his light hair, “Nothing, omega. Don’t worry your little head over it.

Your jaw drops open, “Don’t call me that, please. I have a name.”

“As if I care.”

God! It was like talking to an eight-year-old. You had no idea that Steve was this immature and rude, and it makes your blood boil. You’re just about to get up and find Bucky’s bedroom yourself when you hear a pattering of light footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Steve, I have to go. But promise you’ll text me tonight?” It’s a girl. You recognise her from college – you’ve definitely seen her around campus somewhere. But she’s definitely not Sharon. She skips up to Steve and plants a kiss on his cheek, and the alpha only responds with a grunt. You get a weird feeling inside you as you watch this exchange, but try your best to shake it off.

The girl stops to shoot you a smile. “Hey, you’re Bucky’s girlfriend, aren’t you? Nice to meet you!”

She leaves before you have a chance to reply, and you’re left staring at the back of her head as she shuts the door behind her, getting an eyeful of her hair which you vaguely notice is the same shade as yours. And it’s only when she’s gone that you realise your mouth is open in shock, and you slowly turn to Steve who looks wholly unbothered.

“Aren’t you going out with Sharon?” You can’t help but blurt out.

Steve raises an eyebrow, but says nothing as he continues to just stare at you. You feel hot all over, and you don’t know whether it’s because of his eyes on you or because of the sudden anger you feel at the blatant display of cheating you’ve just witnessed.

“That’s not fair on your girlfriend, Steve.” You whisper.

And all Steve does is stare at you, to the point where you feel waves of heat on your face. And then suddenly you’re hit with this overwhelming scent of burning firewood. A freshly mown lawn with a strong sun beating down on it, and smoky wood on a hot summer’s day. Your eyes widen as the intimidating alpha walks over to you, leaning down at the table where you’re sitting.

“I don’t remember asking for some lowlife omega’s opinion on my private business.” He says softly, but there’s danger and threat embedded in his words and it makes your blood run cold. But your nose can’t stop twitching as it takes in his heady scent, and you feel your mind cloud over and your limbs grow weak like jelly and–

“I’d appreciate it if you’d put a shirt on in front of my girlfriend, Stevie.” Bucky chuckles, elbowing past Steve and making his way over to you. He helps you up and plants a firm kiss to your lips. You’re still rattled by the blonde alpha, though, and distractedly kiss your boyfriend back. You can still feel Steve’s eyes on you, and it’s unnerving to say the least.

“You ready to go, princess?” Bucky tugs at your hand and you nod, allowing him to pull you out of the house. It’s only when the fresh outside air whips against your face that you seem to snap out of whatever trance you’re in. You swallow and shake your head as Bucky leads you to his car, and you only speak once both of you are inside.

“Steve did something awful.” You breathe.

Bucky frowns before squeezing your arm, “What? Did he touch you?”

“N-No, he…” You shake your head, feeling a wave of anger overtake you momentarily, “He had a girl over, James. He was cheating on his girlfriend!”

“Oh.”

The silence is louder than ever as Bucky starts up the car and backs out of the driveway. He puts his arm over the back of your seat as he looks over his shoulder, and it’s not until he’s on the main road that you huff:

“Is that all you have to say?”

Bucky grimaces, keeping his eyes glued to the road, “Look, Steve isn’t exactly in love with Sharon.”

“But she’s his girlfriend, Bucky. He shouldn’t be cheating on her either way!”

“I know, I know. What can I say?” He pauses, as if mulling over how to say his next words. “Look, princess. Steve’s young, he’s only in college. It’s what us guys do. Why have one piece of the pie when you can have the whole thing, you know? That sort of thing.”

It only takes Bucky about three seconds to realise the error in his words. You turn to stare at him in utter shock and horror. Was this really James? Your James? Who had said all the right things and been so sweet and gentlemanly all these weeks? Who had respected your boundaries and never questioned you or lashed out for wanting to wait?

“Is that why you’re so okay with us not having sex?” You say quietly. “Because you’re getting it from somewhere else?”

“What? No, sweetheart. No, that’s not it at all.”

Bucky turns into a random lane and stops the car before turning to you. You try to bat him off but he grabs both your hands in his, bringing them up to his lips and pressing kisses on your fingers and palms before yanking you into an embrace.

“I’m sorry. That was a terrible thing for me to say.” He mumbles into your hair, and you try to find solace in his scent but it’s not strong enough right now. He kisses the top of your head before drawing back to make eye contact. “Princess, I’m not seeing anyone else behind your back, that I can promise you.”

“But how can I believe you? When it was so easy for you to justify what Steve’s doing?” You sniffle.

Bucky sits back in his seat and sighs, but he doesn’t let go of your hands. “Look, it’s no secret that us alphas are all a bunch of assholes. We don’t really hide it, either. Steve’s cheating on his girl because, well, it’s almost normal for a lot of us to do that. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t slept with multiple girls without them knowing about each other in the past.”

You bow your head, not liking this at all. But Bucky grabs your chin gently, lifting it up so you look at him.

“But I’m past all of that now, okay? I really like being in a serious and committed relationship with you, princess. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a girl, and I would never even think of being with anyone else.” He cups your face and strokes your cheek, and his eyes are so pretty and blue, and you can feel your heart melting already as he gives you a peck. “I guess I just wasn’t surprised by what Steve did because I’m so used to it.”

You nuzzle your face into his palm, “Can’t you tell him that it’s wrong? That you’ve grown out of doing stuff like that, and that he should too?”

Bucky chuckles, pressing your cheeks and nose with more soft kisses, “I could. But Steve is extremely stubborn and bossy, in case you haven’t noticed.” He pauses, smiling fondly at you when you giggle softly in agreement, twining a piece of your hair around his finger. “The way I see it, we should just focus on our relationship, and let Steve do whatever it is he’s doing since it’s got nothing to do with us. It took meeting the right girl for me to recognise the error of my ways. Maybe soon, he’ll find someone that he’ll want to be better for too, right?”

You nod, despite that weird feeling surfacing inside you once more. But you shove it back down and give Bucky a smile as he pulls you in for another long kiss.

“Well, let’s get to that movie, shall we? We’ve probably missed the opening credits and I’m gonna have to cut the line to get us our snacks, but I think we can still make it.”

You spend the rest of the evening at the drive-in movie theatre with Bucky. He reclines his seat and makes you climb over the console to sit in his lap while the two of you watch Gone with the Wind on the big screen with a bag of sweet and salty popcorn and a bar of chocolate to share. Once the snacks finish, you sleepily rest your head on his chest and let him stroke your back through your hoodie. And you almost fall asleep like that, Scarlett O’Hara’s indignant dialogues lulling you into a peaceful slumber until your nostrils are unceremoniously invaded with the scent of burning firewood and a hot summer’s day.

Opening your eyes slowly, you peak out the window to see another car pull up beside Bucky’s. And your heart sinks down to the depths of your chest when you see who’s inside. Steve. And Sharon. She’s talking to him animatedly, but he seems sullen and unresponsive as always. That is, until they start making out, and you have to forcibly look away when Steve’s eyes meet yours and you feel this burning feeling in your chest.

You swallow harshly before cuddling up to Bucky even more.

“James, I’m sleepy,” you say softly.

“Yeah? You wanna go home, princess?”

“Yes, please. If that’s okay?”

“Sure, princess.” He lifts you up and places you back on the passenger seat before pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Close your eyes and rest. I’ll tuck you into bed once we get back to your dorm.”

And he does just that, carrying you all the way back into your dorm room and helping you change before putting you to bed. And you can’t describe whatever it is you’re feeling but all you can do is clutch at his shirt when he goes to leave, pulling him into bed with you. And he rains your face with a billion kisses before you both fall asleep in each other’s arms.

***

Life at college continues. You’re still in contact with Peter, despite the two of you being so busy. But he sends you updates about his internship and all the cool technology he’s being exposed to. You tell him about your classes and all the interesting things you’re learning. You also, very tentatively, tell him about Bucky. Surprisingly, Peter seems supportive, and the conversation between the two of you grows easy once more.

The romance between you and Bucky seems to blossom with every passing day. He carries your books to class and takes you out on cute dates that make your heart flutter. Picnics, scenic walks, movies, restaurants – he takes you everywhere you’ve ever dreamed of being taken. And how your heart had skipped a beat when you’d seen he’d had a bouquet of yellow roses delivered to your dorm room! There was no note or tag attached, but you knew they were from Bucky. Who else could they be from? And they were the prettiest flowers you’d ever received, and the butterflies in your tummy fluttered at his perfect choice.

It was also in the little things he did, like kiss you on the forehead reassuringly or squeeze your hand when you’re feeling nervous. And slowly, you feel yourself coming out of your shell more and more. You find yourself laughing out loud and voicing your opinions that usually you would’ve kept silent.

Being Bucky’s girlfriend meant hanging out with his group of friends, too. And it thrills you that you’re able to hold conversations with some of them, and have them be genuinely interested in what you have to say and not just write you off as a “dumb omega”.

One day, you find yourself sitting on Bucky’s lap in the campus courtyard between classes, a number of his friends surrounding you. You still feel nervous around this many people (especially intimidating seniors) but with Bucky squeezing your hand reassuringly, you find the task less daunting than you normally would, as you grow to feel more comfortable with them.

Well, most of them.

“…and then I told her to fuck off, because who knows what kind of diseases she was carrying. I mean, she’s fucked half the football team after all.” Steve says cockily, taking a drag from his cigarette while the alphas around him all laugh as if he’s cracked the funniest joke of the century. Even Bucky chuckles before you shoot him a look and he stops, a sheepish look on his face.

“I mean sure, she’s got a great ass, but there’s nothing attractive about a slut who spreads her legs for any man who looks her way.” The blond alpha continues, and it irritates you how all his friends seem to hang on to his every word, looking up to him like he’s some sort of God.

Having been with Bucky long enough, you had somewhat cracked the hierarchy of his friend group. And Steve was definitely the leader, the one they all flocked to and tried to impress. Well, not Bucky – he and Sam were the only ones who would keep Steve in check. But the blonde alpha’s ego was through the roof, as were his misogynistic ideals and derogatory views towards omegas and women in general.

And you hated how shy you were, especially around him. You felt sickened by Steve’s gross statements but you could never say anything against him. A part of you just wanted to be liked and accepted by Bucky’s best friend, but Steve only alternated between glaring at you or pretending you didn’t exist.

“HI, BABY!”

A high-pitched squeal knocks you out of your reverie, and you watch as Sharon jogs up to Steve in her pretty blue cheerleading outfit. Together, they look like the perfect couple. Head cheerleader and the captain of the football team. Perfect. You feel that weird feeling bubbling up inside you again but do your best to keep it at bay.

Steve rolls his eyes before Sharon launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting her lips on his. Steve, however, remains stoic.

“Gosh, baby, could you please put that cigarette out?” Sharon says, pushing a wayward lock of Steve’s blonde hair off his forehead.

“No.”

She giggles, shaking her head before turning to you. “Men, huh? Stubborn as ever. I’ve asked him to stop smoking about a bajillion times, but he never listens.”

You smile and nod, feeling stupid and awkward as ever because Sharon is pretty and popular and you don’t know how to act.

“I like your pin.” Sharon points at the World Politics Society pin on your bookbag, “I couldn’t even dream of getting into that class. You must be really smart.”

Steve snorts but everyone ignores him.

“Thank you, I find the subject really interesting,” you reply.

You watch Sharon as she talks to everyone in the group. She’s kind, confident and beautiful – everything you wish you were. But that weird, indescribable feeling keeps surfacing inside you every time she locks hands with Steve, or brushes his hair back, or smooths the wrinkles on his sweater.

“And Mister Barnes, how come I’ve never met your girlfriend before now? When she’s practically my sister-in-law?” Sharon hits Bucky lightly on the arm before shooting you another bright smile. “We should organise a double-date. Me and Steve and you both. That sounds fun, doesn’t it?”

Steve scoffs but everyone ignores him.

“Epically fun, Miss Carter.” Bucky gives her a charming smile before tugging you close to his chest. “We could go bowling or something. If His Highness is up for it.”

Steve takes another drag of his cigarette, saying nothing. In fact, he’s barely said a word since his girlfriend joined the conversation, and you find that to be weirdly peculiar. Why was he even with her if all he did was cheat on her and ignore her every time she spoke?

“Looking forward to it!” Sharon smiles before checking her phone, “Okay, I gotta go now or else I’ll be late for practice. I’ll see you tonight, baby?” She gives Steve a peck on the lips, which he also doesn’t return.

“Sure.” Steve answers, finally seeming to snap out of it as his hand meanders down to squeeze her ass. You feel your own hand clench into a fist but you quickly relax it and hope no one saw. What the heck was that? Why had you reacted that way?

“What a fuckin’ bitch.” Steve resumes once Sharon is out of earshot. “As I was saying, I told this other whore who was all over me the other day that I just wasn’t interested in sluts like her, and she said–”

“Could you stop being such a misogynistic jerk?!”

You can’t believe the words have left your mouth, and your hands start shaking immediately once you realise they have. Never before have you raised your voice at someone like this, let alone a formidable alpha who’s about twice your size.

Steve’s cold blue eyes rest their steely gaze on you, when up until this point he’d been content on pretending you weren’t there. You dare peak up at him and see his jaw tick, and a vein protrude from the side of his forehead.

“What did you just say to me?” He asks softly.

“Hey, leave her alone.” Bucky says warningly, but you sit up straight.

“I’m… I’m sorry, but I just don’t like how you talk about women.” You say, hating how your voice shakes and how you can’t look Steve in the eye.

“And I don’t like the tone you’re taking with me right now.” Steve’s intense gaze bores holes straight through you before he looks at Bucky, “Haven’t you taught her not to speak to her superiors like that?”

Your jaw drops open in pure shock, “H-How dare you–”

“Okay, let’s go.” Bucky hoists you to your feet while your whole body seems to shake with shock, anger, and a tiny bit of fear. The brunet alpha holds you tightly by the arm before evenly glancing back at his best friend. “Steve, don’t speak to my girl like that. In fact, if you’re going to be rude, then don’t speak to her at all.”

You and Bucky don’t stick around to hear Steve’s retort, and it’s only when you round a corner and are hidden from the rest of the group by a brick wall, that you burst into tears.

“He’s – so – awful!” You cry, your heart pitter-pattering in a mix of fear and hurt. You hated being spoken to like that, like you were beneath him. Bucky holds you close and you sob into his chest, hugging him as hard as you can. His solidness and wintery scent is a source of comfort to you, and so is his hand which rubs your back soothingly.

“He shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, princess. I’ll make sure to speak to him about it later.” Bucky promises you, pressing soft kisses to your hairline while you cry, leaving splotchy tear-stains on his shirt.

“Why is he even with Sharon when he doesn’t seem happy with her at all?!” You burst out, desperately wiping at your teary eyes except it doesn’t stop you from crying even more. “He’s just…I just… Oh, I hate him, James! I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!”

“I know, sweetheart. I know. I’ll talk to him, don’t you worry.”

Looking into his earnest eyes, you can tell Bucky’s intentions are good. And you don’t know if he talks to Steve or not, but you do receive another delivery of yellow roses to your dorm room that very night. This time, there’s a note attached too. “I’m sorry” is all it says, and you can’t help but smile as you hold the roses up to your nose and take in their delicate scent. Bucky was obviously feeling bad about the whole situation – and it wasn’t even his fault!

But clearly, your boyfriend knows you well, because the flowers do lift your mood up a little bit. You place the second bouquet of yellow roses caringly next to the first one. They look expensive and beautiful, and have your entire room smelling heavenly and sweet. It makes you smile and clasp your hands together, and you’re just about to call Bucky when you hear a rustling from outside your window, followed by a series of heavy footsteps.

Strange. Who would be out at this time? And in the bushes outside your dorm room, no less? You decide you’ve probably imagined it, but you close your window and draw your curtains anyways before calling Bucky.

“You’re the best, you know that?” You tell him, a huge smile plastered on your face as you take one last whiff of the roses before flopping down on your bed on top of all your pillows and stuffies.

“I do know that, sweetheart, but it’s nice to hear you say it.” Bucky laughs from the other end of the phone. “It’s also nice to hear you sound so happy.”

You grab your stuffed rabbit and tug his ears mindlessly, “Yeah, I know I acted like a huge cry-baby earlier today.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to worry about it, princess? Anyways, I spoke to Steve.”

Your heart skips a beat, “You did?”

“Yes. Look, he’s set in his traditional ways and he’s stubborn as hell. But he did look like he regretted speaking to you that way, and I don’t think he’ll do it again.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, “Well, that’s all I want. Thank you for speaking to him, James.” There’s a pause, and then you pipe up hesitantly: “And what about Sharon? Is he still going to stay with her?”

“Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t he?”

BECAUSE SHE’S NOT RIGHT FOR HIM! The omega inside you screeches, and the sheer vitriol you feel makes you sit up straight, eyes wide and hands shaking. What the heck? Where had that outburst even come from?

“Hello? Princess? You still with me?”

You clear your throat and physically shake your head to rid yourself of that weird feeling that seems to be bubbling inside you so often now. But never before had it manifested into your inner thoughts screaming at you like how they just had. You feel hot all over, and quickly place your palm on your forehead to check if you have a fever before remembering Bucky is still on the phone.

“I’m here. Sorry, I just…” What can you even say to him? Without sounding crazy? You take a deep breath. “Thank you for talking to him, James. I’m just glad he won’t be mean anymore. Everything else isn’t really any of my business.”

“That’s good to hear, sweetheart.”

***

True to Bucky’s word, slowly but surely, Steve becomes a lot more bearable to be around. He’s still awful in his misogyny but at least he no longer glares at you or makes you feel unwelcome and uncomfortable when you’re with Bucky and his friends. You still catch him staring at you sometimes, but you must be imagining it because you know he hates you. You try not to care though, and only focus on Bucky.

“I want you to meet my parents, princess.” Bucky says to you one day. The two of you are in your dorm room where you’d just completed an intense study session. Well, you’d been studying while Bucky grew distracted after about ten seconds of staring at his textbook, and proceeded to kiss and touch you while you laughed and batted him off. “And I would like to meet your parents too.”

The smile drops from your face almost instantaneously, and you nervously grab your stuffed rabbit and pull its ears. “Oh, I… Uh…”

“I mean, we’ve been seriously dating for a while now, haven’t we? It’s only right that I get to meet the parents of the girl who captured my heart.”

You smile uneasily, heart feeling like it’s about to beat out of your chest. “What are your parents like?” You blurt out, trying to deflect.

Bucky lies back on your bed, “They’re great. My dad’s a lawyer so he’s always working. My mom is usually at home, though. She makes a great apple pie and she’s also great for when I need advice.”

You smile softly, “She must really love you.”

He blinks. “Of course, she does. All parents love their children.”

He goes on to tell you about how his dad used to take him golfing at the country club when he was younger, and how much he hated it. But he’d always get treated to ice cream afterwards, which was why he agreed to go every time. He tells you about how his mother values family over everything, which was why he went home every other Friday to have dinner with his family, and how he’d love for you to join him on one of those dinners soon.

You nod and agree, but you feel like crying on the inside. There’s a sense of yearning inside you that you can’t seem to get rid of no matter how hard you cuddle into Bucky or how much he kisses you.

His hands slowly slip down to your hips, squeezing gently before meandering up under your hoodie. His touch is tentative yet confident, and usually it excites you. But you always stop him before he goes too far, hoping and praying he doesn’t get mad at you. Which he never does. Instead, the two of you lazily make out on your bed until you fall asleep in each other’s arms. And then the nightmares commence, but when you wake up, you can’t remember them at all.

***

“Ooh, look at the pink bowling balls! And the powder blue ones. Aren’t they cute, Steve?” Sharon clutches Steve’s muscular bicep, her perfectly manicured nails scraping lightly against his pale skin. Steve only grunts in response before shaking her off as him and Bucky go up to the counter to pay for one session of bowling for all of you.

Through Sharon’s pure will and determination, the four of you find yourselves on a double date at the bowling alley. She seemed blissfully unaware of the fact that Steve hated you, or that you didn’t particularly like Steve either, and had practically begged Bucky to organise the date. Bucky had said you didn’t have to do it, but what harm could one night of bowling actually do? Especially since Steve hadn’t really been mean to you for a while now.

“Do I seriously have to wear these ugly bowling shoes?” Sharon complains, gingerly holding up the dirty shoes and making a face.

“Don’t wear them. Let’s see what happens.” Steve pipes up.

Bucky laughs, “Unless you want a broken toe, you better put them on.”

It’s Steve and Sharon against you and Bucky. You’ve bowled a few times, so you’re not embarrassingly bad or anything. Bucky is fairly good too. Surprisingly, Sharon turns out to be extremely skilled at bowling, getting a strike on her first try.

And then there’s Steve.

“Another gutter ball, Rogers!” Bucky doubles over in glee, practically in tears. You try to hide your amused smile and even Sharon can’t help but laugh.

“Shut up!” Steve seethes, looking redder than a tomato as he jams his hands in his pockets and walks back to the bench you’re all sitting on. He casts a quick glance in your direction, his nose twitching. “There’s too many distractions here.”

“What distractions, bro? You’re just a bad player.” Bucky mocks, jabbing his elbow into his friend’s ribs and laughing even harder when the blond gives him an absolutely murderous look.

Bucky gets up and stretches, “I think I need a beer. You want one, Steve?”

Steve flips him off.

“I’ll take that as a yes. You girls want anything?”

“Maybe a strawberry milkshake? Or iced tea sounds good. And I think we should also get some food for Steve before he implodes. Maybe nachos? Or curly fries. I’ll go with you, since that’s a lot to remember.” Sharon gets up.

Bucky presses a kiss to your forehead, “Think you can hold down fort and keep us in the lead until I get back, princess?” He whispers.

You giggle, “I think so. I just need to get a minimum of one pin.”

They leave, and you get up to do your turn. Making your way over to the contraption where they keep all the bowling balls, you can feel Steve’s eyes on you. God, without Bucky and Sharon here, you felt all shy and nervous. Not to mention his scent, which was so overpowering as it settled into your nostrils. Just ignore him, you think to yourself before absentmindedly selecting a bowling ball.

You’ve taken one step towards the bowling lane when the ball slips from your sweaty palms. It’s a lot heavier than you anticipated, and you can’t take the weight as you watch it fall down almost in slow motion. There’s a flurry of movement, Steve moving quick as lightning and batting the ball sideways before it completely crushes your foot. It ends up bouncing on the tip of your toe with a loud thud before rolling away under the table.

“What the fuck inspired you to choose the heaviest ball available? You could have really hurt yourself!” Steve shakes you angrily by the shoulder as you remain frozen in place, still registering what just happened.

“I…I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” You stammer before suddenly becoming aware of your toe throbbing from where the bowling ball had fallen. Most of its weight had been absorbed by your shoe, but your toe still hurts. And you hate being such a baby, but your lower lip can’t help but quiver, and you feel your eyes well up with tears.

You don’t really register it as Steve’s fingers encircle around your wrist, and he tugs you back to the bench, forcing you down before crouching in front of you.

“Did you hurt yourself? See, this is why little omegas like you shouldn’t be carrying heavy things. I told Bucky bowling was a bad idea.” At the mention of his best friend’s name, Steve instinctively whips his head towards the snack counter, and you do too. Bucky and Sharon are still in line, and with their backs turned and so many people around, you doubt they can see you.

You sniffle, “I didn’t think it would be that heavy.”

“Of course, you didn’t. You’re just a baby omega, and sometimes you don’t think about things like that. Here, let me see.” Before you realise what’s happening, he grabs your ankle with one big, warm hand; and uses the other to unstrap your shoe. You gape at him, the scent of smoky firewood and a freshly mown lawn making you swallow harshly and freeze in place, letting him slip your shoe off.

But it only a takes handful of seconds for you to come back to your senses, and you shake your head and cringe backwards.

“Uh, th-that’s okay, Steve. It stopped hurting now, I think I’ll be fine.”

But his grip on your ankle doesn’t loosen, your shoe falling to the ground and his blue eyes zeroing in on your foot which is covered by just your lacy white ankle sock. The air feels thick around you both, and you feel your breathing start to get laboured as you watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows.

Slowly, tentatively almost, he strokes your foot with his other hand. And a part of you is so acutely aware of how weird this is. You boyfriend’s best friend tending to your injury in the middle of a crowded bowling alley – while Bucky and Sharon were in the same vicinity!

“You’ll be alright.” Steve says gently (the gentlest you’ve ever heard him speak), as he continues to stroke your throbbing toe, “You just need to be more careful, okay?”

You find yourself nodding, your entire body buzzing with some sort of strange energy that you’ve never felt before. “I guess I just got distracted.”

Steve’s hand remains rubbing your toe, but his eyes look up to meet yours. And you almost forget how to breathe, feeling like there’s a bubble encasing the two of you, and everyone else is far, far away. All you can feel is his burning gaze and his hand touching you.

He clears his throat, “Yeah, I’ve been distracted all night too.” And you can’t help but notice how long and dark his lashes are, how they contrast so deeply from his pale hair and skin, how they fan against his cheekbones as he blinks up at you almost earnestly. “Maybe I should drive you home.”

That knocks you out of whatever reverie he’s pulled you into. Drive you home? While his girlfriend and your boyfriend stayed here? Was he insane?

You forcibly tug your foot out of his grasp, quickly putting your shoe back on before he can grab it again. And Steve stays in his crouched position in front of you, almost as if frozen in place. He’s staring at his hand, the one that was holding your ankle, before he looks up at you. There’s a fiery look in his eyes, one you can’t fully explain. You also can’t fully explain why your heart is beating like mad, and there’s a warm feeling spreading through your chest.

“I’m fine, Steve. Really. Thank you for uh… Just… Thanks.” You mumble.

Steve blinks, opening his mouth to speak before he shuts it again when he looks beyond your shoulder. He coughs, standing up to his full height and moving away from you suddenly. And you watch him whip his phone out, pretend he’s texting someone, and all the while your heart just won’t calm down. And then you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“We’ve got snacks!” Sharon announces, skipping over to Steve and handing him a bunch of things, “Here you go, babe. These cheesy fries are literally to die for. Me and Bucky picked at them on the way back here. Oh, and here’s your beer.”

You watch as Sharon simpers at her boyfriend, grabbing his hand and leading him to a nearby bench. Feeding him fries while he bats her hand away, instead grabbing his beer and taking a long swig. His face is still red, and his eyes are still bright, and–

“You okay, princess?” Bucky sits down beside you and puts his arm around you, giving you a tight squeeze. “You look troubled.”

You force a smile, “I’m fine, James.”

“Did Steve say something to you? Do you need me to talk to him again?”

Rapidly, you shake your head. Subconsciously, you’ve already made the decision not to tell Bucky about the weirdness that has just transpired. And the guilt is already eating you up from the inside out, despite the fact you hadn’t done anything. Or hadn’t you? Why had you not pulled away sooner? And why was Steve acting this way? Why was he so gentle, so tender? When every other instance between the two of you has been either him ignoring you, or being rude towards you?

Suddenly, your head hurts.

Bucky seems to understand that something is off with you, because he tells Sharon and Steve that he’s tired and wants to cut the night short. You hug Sharon goodbye, feeling like you want the ground to eat you up whole, before your boyfriend leads you out of the bowling alley.

“Princess, please tell me what’s bothering you.” He says moments later when the two of you are in his car.

You force a smile, “Nothing!”

His light blue eyes, so piercing in the darkness of the car, stare at you as if they can see right through you. But all he does is draw you in for a hug, and you feel your body sag into his. Bucky feels so cosy and safe, so dependable and good. All your worries and concerns dissipate for a moment as you hug him back almost fiercely.

“Well, why don’t we go get some ice cream?” He asks kindly.

You bury your face in his chest, not quite done hugging him yet. Maybe you were just overthinking whatever had happened back there with Steve. Maybe the blond alpha was just trying to turn a new leaf and be kind for once. Maybe his actions had been innocuous after all. You sniffle before looking up at your boyfriend and pressing a long kiss to his lips.

“Okay. Let’s do that.”

Bucky gets a double mint chocolate chip cone and you get a vanilla strawberry swirl. He licks the ice cream that you accidentally smear on the side of your mouth as you dig in, and then you both kiss some more. Sweet kisses and sweet touches laced with giggles. And then he takes you on a drive, and you roll the windows down and let the breeze hit your face as if you’re the main character in an indie film, allowing the cool night air to wash away any remnants of guilt. Bucky’s got one hand on the steering wheel and the other one holding steadily onto yours, squeezing every few seconds and shooting you lovesick smiles that you return.

He parks outside of your dorm building and pulls you over the console and into his lap. And you let him kiss you and touch you and try to lose yourself in it. Try not to think of a hot summer’s day and freshly mown grass. You don’t even stop him when he pushes his hand down your leggings and past your panties, and you gasp into his mouth when you feel his fingers brush against your hot core.

“Are you sure about this, princess?” Bucky breathes against your lips, and you want to cry at how sweet he is. How patient and kind. You don’t deserve him at all. You nod your head to indicate that yes, you are sure. You kiss him doubly hard, trying to drown out the feel of wanting to cry. Because actually no, you’re not sure about this. You don’t know if you’re ready. But you feel so bad, so bad for what happened with Steve.

You didn’t even do anything! The rational part of your brain screams. So then why did it feel like you had?

Bucky moves his fingers expertly inside you, his thumb rubbing your bundle of nerves in a way that does make you momentarily forget about anything else except for his touch. You mewl his name, clutching the fabric of his shirt and rutting against him. His large hands rub up and down your back, his lips warm against your ear as he coaxes you, “That’s right, princess. Let go for me, I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

You come hard, body shaking and spasming on top of him as he holds you close to his chest. Praises you for being so good for him, for being so beautiful and perfect. And it’s crazy, because you feel anything but those things right now. But you sob out his name softly, and let him stroke your hair back as he continues to talk you through your orgasm, “That’s it, princess. You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you? Such a good girl. Thank you for letting me in, sweetheart. Thank you for being so perfect.”

He lets you recover, all the while kissing you. And then he walks you to your room and bids you goodnight. He tells you he’d have stayed the night, but he has to drive home to pick up an important document for his father. You manage a weak smile, and return his kisses before waving goodbye.

And then you shut the door and burst into tears.

And you don’t even know why, because nothing had happened between you and Steve! Nothing at all. But you cry for all the confusion within you, the unresolved feelings of guilt that you can’t understand for the life of you, and how you can’t seem to shake this yearning sadness inside you. Oh, why did Steve have to be so different tonight? Why had his eyes reflected such tenderness? Why had he held your ankle like that? Why hadn’t he let go?

Why did you care so much?

You take a long shower and change into clean, comfortable clothes before trying to distract yourself with Netflix. And that’s when you hear a knock on your door.

It’s another bouquet of yellow roses. You smile at the delivery man – you recognise his face at this point, since he’s been to your dorm room three times now. You marvel at Bucky’s quickness, because he’d only dropped you home about an hour ago. He must have paid for express delivery or something. And this time, the bouquet is accompanied by not only a note, but also a small package.

I really enjoyed our date tonight, baby.

You smile softly at the short but sweet message, before your eyes shift to the package. It’s brown and unsuspecting, with a yellow ribbon holding it together. You gently rip it open.

Coal black eyes stare up at you. A furry little face. Tan coloured fur and a light blue bow-tie. It’s a teddy bear! You can’t help but crack a smile, heart feeling lighter than it has all day. Oh, it was so cute! Like a furry little baby. You hug it close to your chest, the butterflies fluttering happily around in your tummy. You don’t receive gifts too often, and this was a total surprise. And definitely one that was helping lift your lousy mood.

You fall asleep with the teddy in your arms, and no nightmares come. Instead, you dream of warm sunlight splashing down on your skin, and green grass so fresh you can almost smell it. And the silhouette of a shadowy figure who holds you close and promises to keep you safe. And the yearning feel goes away. And you feel content.

***

“Okay, do you want the good news first or the bad news?”

“Uh oh.” You bite your lip, immediately assuming the worst as your hand freezes in the middle of tossing a folded shirt into your overnight bag. Today was the day you and Bucky were driving down to Bucky’s family house, where you were finally going to meet his parents and stay for the weekend. “They don’t like me, do they?”

Bucky snickers over the phone, “Wrong, sweetheart. My parents love you. Well, they love the pictures of you that I showed them from my phone. That’s the good news, actually. They seem genuinely excited to meet you. My mom’s planning a whole five course dinner.”

You resume packing, putting in your pyjama bottoms, an extra hoodie, your plastic bag of toiletries, as well as your new favourite stuffed teddy bear. You force out a chuckle, hoping he can’t detect your anxiety and nervousness over the phone, “That’s good. I really hope I don’t let them down.”

“Let them down? How?”

You chew on your lip and whisper, “By not being good enough…”

“Princess, you’re the prettiest, kindest, sweetest and smartest girl I’ve ever dated. I don’t want you putting yourself down like that, okay?”

“O-Okay.” He was right – it wasn’t healthy to keep thinking of yourself in such a negative light. And it wasn’t like you enjoyed feeling sorry for yourself or drowning in self-pity, you just sometimes let the doubts you had about yourself creep in and take over your mind. Despite the fact that since day one, Bucky had been reassuring you about how perfect you were.

But would a perfect girlfriend be feeling as guilty as you were?

“What’s the bad news?” You ask, trying to push your thoughts to the back of your mind and focus on the conversation with your boyfriend.

Bucky sighs, “So, I had to actually stop by my dad’s office to sort out some paperwork. He only trusts me to do it, and since I’ll be working at his firm once I graduate, I figured it would be a good chance for me to show him that I’m actually competent with stuff like that.”

You nod, “That makes sense.”

“But that means I’ll be tied up all morning, so I won’t be able to drive you back to my house in Brooklyn.”

“Oh.” You let the words sink in. “That’s alright, James. I can just take the train.”

“Uh, I don’t think so, princess. But listen, Steve is going home for the weekend too, and his parents are practically neighbours with mine. He offered to give you a lift.”

You feel your whole body begin to shake as soon as his name is mentioned. It’s been a few days since the double date, and since what you’ve dubbed in your head as “the ankle incident.” Even now, your heart flutters at the memory, and you can still feel his warm fingers brushing over your foot as he’d held it in his hands and stroked you so softly. And when you close your eyes, you can see that earnest look on his face, and–

“Bucky, I really don’t mind taking the train.”

“Sweetheart, I know you don’t mind. But I mind, I don’t want my girl taking the train when you could easily just drive there.” There’s a pause as Bucky inhales deeply, “Look, I know you and Steve aren’t exactly the best of friends. But I really think he’s trying to turn a new leaf and be a nicer person. I mean, he actually volunteered to drive you, which is progress. And if I’m being honest, it would really give me peace of mind if I knew you were in the car with one of my friends instead of alone on a crowded, dingy train.”

“James, I really don’t think–”

“Please, sweetheart? For me?”

You exhale slowly, clasping your hands together to stop them from shaking. If Bucky had so much faith in Steve, then maybe it was you who was overthinking everything. Maybe Steve genuinely was turning a new leaf, and who were you to deny someone when they were doing you a favour? The drive down to Brooklyn would be long, but not too long. And Steve hadn’t been mean to you for many weeks now, so maybe it would all be okay?

“Okay, Bucky. If that’s what you want.” You agree softly.

“Great! Steve told me to tell you that he’ll pick you up at 3.”

***

Steve arrives outside your dorm at 2:55pm. Actually, you see his car pull up at around 2:45, and then you watch him park it and sit there drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. And then he gets out of the car and paces around for a while before finally making his way over to your door and knocking on it rather loudly. You give him a quiet hello and he gives you a grunt in return, the exchange giving you a sick feeling in your tummy – would it be this quiet and awkward for the whole journey? Before you can worry some more, Steve takes your overnight bag from your hands and leads you to his car.

“Put your seatbelt on.” He orders you the moment you sit down in the passenger seat.

“I was just about to.” You respond, a tad defensive because he hadn’t even given you a chance to breathe before he’d started ordering you around.

“Just do it.”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t start the car until your seatbelt is firmly in place, and then you sit there twiddling your thumbs in silence because Steve doesn’t even have the radio on. You wonder if you should start a conversation, but you feel too shy. Which is crazy, since you’d really been starting to come out of your shell these past few months. But not with Steve. He was way too intimidating and scary and just… intense.

“How’s your toe?” He asks you gruffly out of the blue about ten minutes into the journey.

“It’s all good, thank you for asking.” Your response is cordial, and you wonder if you sound bitchy or clipped. It certainly isn’t your intention, but you’ve definitely got your guard up and you don’t really know how to speak to him.

Steve sighs, and there’s another fifteen minutes of silence before he pulls into a traffic jam, and that’s when he turns to face you.

“I broke up with Sharon.”

Your eyes widen and you feel your heart skip a beat, “Oh…uh…Oh.”

He nods, “Yeah. I took your advice.”

That makes you snap out of whatever momentary shock his sudden revelation had put you in. “My advice? Wh-What do you mean?”

The car starts moving again, and Steve takes his time to reply, and you wonder whether he can hear your heart pitter-pattering loudly in your chest as you anticipate his response.

“I’ve heard you, you know. All those times you complained to Bucky, asking him why I was with Sharon if I clearly didn’t care about her. And you were right, so I took your advice and I dumped her.”

You clear your throat, nervously tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, “I didn’t mean… Well… She deserves better, Steve.” You inhale deeply and turn to look out the window – either out of awkwardness or because you can’t seem to meet his gaze. But he’s got a weird pull about him, practically reeling you back in and you can’t help but look back at him once he starts speaking again.

“I told her I wasn’t interested in her anymore. That I was in love with somebody else.” Steve takes a turn off the highway, and you sit there frozen in shock as he takes quick left and right turns, eventually driving into a small, deserted street, where he parks the car. You swallow, but there’s a huge lump in your throat that you can’t seem to get rid of.

“Wh-Why are we stopping here, Steve?”

“I like how my name sounds when you say it.” His hand creeps over the console in a bid to grab yours, and you quickly move back. Your back slams against the door as you cringe away from him, eyes wide and heart racing.

“Wh-What are you doing? Stop!”

Steve scoffs, “Please. Don’t play dumb, I know you like me too. And the sooner you stop denying it, the easier all of this will be for you.”

You can hardly believe what you’re hearing, it’s almost like your own ears are playing tricks on you. As if you’re Alice falling down some weird rabbit hole into a dimension where nothing makes sense. Was this a joke? Was he pulling some sort of prank? But he’s got that same earnest, honest look in his eyes, the look he’d had at the bowling alley. But you swallow and shake your head rapidly.

“Steve, no, I’m with James. He’s my boyfriend, I don’t like you like that –”

“DON’T LIE!” Steve bursts out, and the sudden explosion of anger makes you jump out of your seat, and the panic that ensues in your heart has you grabbing the door handle in a desperate bid to get out of the car and away from him. But of course, the door remains locked, and now you can really feel the cold terror and dread as it overtakes your body.

Steve exhales slowly, running a hand through his blonde hair, “Don’t. Lie.” He repeats, reaching over to forcibly grab your wrist. And his touch alone sense goosebumps up and down your arm. “I knew we had a connection from the moment I saw you. And then at the bowling alley on our date, I knew you felt it too.”

“Y-You mean our double date,” you say slowly, incredulity dripping from your tone, “where you were with your girlfriend and I was with my boyfriend.”

Steve shakes his head, his grip on your wrist tightening, “You were the only one I could focus on that night.” And then, as you watch in horror, he brings your hand up to his lips, kissing it as his eyes flutter shut, almost like he’s savouring kissing your skin for the first time. And you feel every cell in your body, from the top of your head to the bottom of your toes, flutter as he does it. He locks eyes with you, “And I saw how you reacted that night when you opened my gift, that’s how I knew you liked me too.”

His gift? The terror in your veins seems to triple in less than a second, and you feel like you might throw up. You think back to all those bouquets of yellow roses with no name on the notes that accompanied them. And your favourite stuffed teddy with the coal black eyes and blue bow tie. No. No, it couldn’t be. And he’d watched you open them? How?

“N-No, those were from James!” You bat at him, trying to get him to let go of your hand. You suddenly can’t breathe, can’t think. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. “Those flowers were from James!”

“Sure.” Steve snorts, “Is that why you never even mentioned them to him? You knew deep down they weren’t from him, omega. You knew.”

“No, no, no–”

“And how could they be from him? He doesn’t understand you. Not like I do.” He tries to cup your cheek with his warm hand but you dodge him, shaken down to your very core by all the revelations hurtling towards you at top speed. Steve narrows his eyes at you for a second, before grabbing your hand again. “You think he doesn’t tell me everything, omega? You think I don’t know that you haven’t even let him fuck you yet?”

You feel you’ve just been doused with a bucket of ice-cold water, and all you can do is gape helplessly at Steve, any words you may have had on the tip of your tongue now firmly lodged in the back of your throat.

Steve smirks, “That’s right. He told me you haven’t let him fuck you, and it’s been what, three months since you guys started going out?”

“I wanted to wait till I was ready.” You whisper.

“You keep telling yourself that.” Steve laughs bitterly, “But you and I both know the truth, which is that you’ll never be ready. Not for him. Because you don’t want him to fuck you, you don’t want that intimacy with him.” He yanks you closer with the hold he has on your wrist, till your foreheads are almost touching and you’re frozen in place by not only your fear but something else too. Something warm and inviting.

“If you were my girlfriend, you’d already be three months pregnant.”

Your jaw drops open, only a tiny squeak making its way out past your lips. It’s as if he’s stolen all the air from your lungs, and all the thoughts from your brain. You feel hot all over, but also numb. You feel nothing yet everything all at once, and you can’t believe what he’s saying.

“But that’s okay, we still have plenty of time for that.” Steve nods determinedly, his eyes clouding over with an almost wistful, faraway look. “Baby, I have a plan for us. I’m graduating soon, and I want you by my side as the mother of my children. You’re perfect for me, and I’ll give you the family you crave.”

It’s like he’s lit a candle inside you. A tiny, almost minuscule candle of hope fuelled by the picture his words paint, but it flames fiercely nevertheless. Until you forcibly snuff it out and shake your head once more, and deliver more futile pushes to get him to let you go.

“Y-You’re crazy! I don’t want that, Steve! I don’t want any of that!”

“You do.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes. You do.” Steve sneers, twisting your arm when you grow more desperate, your movements ceasing as you stare up at him helplessly. But his face remains stoic, and a wild piece of blonde hair flops down over his forehead. “I told you; Bucky tells me everything. How you never really fully open up to him, how you get closed off and distant and sad sometimes and he can’t figure out why because you never tell him.”

“Th-That’s between me and him–”

“Don’t you get it?” He grabs you by the shoulders, shaking you as if he’s had an epiphany and wants you to have it too. “I’m the one who knows you, omega. Not him.” His hand reaches up to cup the wide of your face again, and this time he succeeds because you’re frozen in place. His voice softens, “I know you feel like your mother doesn’t care about you. I know you feel lonely despite being in a relationship with Bucky. I know you felt like this even in your previous relationship before Bucky. And I know you don’t have a dad, and I know it hurts–”

“No, no, no, no!” The tears are welling up in your eyes now, and you feel like you can’t breathe. Like you’re hyperventilating and there’s no escape and you can’t run away because this stupid car is locked and you’re in the middle of nowhere and you’ve never told anyone about your dad! You never talk about that with anyone. You don’t even think about it! How did he know?!

“Hey, hey, calm down.” Steve rubs his wrists over your face, and the tranquil effect of a hot midsummer afternoon warms you from the inside out. You feel your heartbeat go back to normal, and you’re able to breathe again. You look up to see Steve’s face inches away from yours, and all you can feel are the pads of his thumbs slowly stroking your cheekbones, and for the life of you, you can’t explain why you just let him do it.

“Do you ever get that yearning feeling, baby?” He asks you softly, so softly that you almost don’t hear it. His blue eyes sparkle with determination and earnesty, and he holds your face so carefully in his hands. “Tell me, do you ever get that feeling? Of wanting something so bad but you can’t seem to figure out what it is?”

“Yes.” You whisper hushedly, dropping your head in shame. Your heart throbs with the same guilt that you’ve been feeling for days now. Horrific, unforgiving guilt that washes through your body in taunting waves.

Steve kisses you then. And it feels like everything around you seems to stand still. Every particle, every atom, every hair, every speck of dust freezes in place. You close your eyes, and it’s like the sun itself descends down to the earth, making everything bask in its addicting glow. Fireworks and explosions behind your eyes and all around you, his warmth enveloping you like a hug. An embrace of delicious heat that feels like you’re home. Really home, and it’s something you’ve never felt before.

And then you start crying.

“I can’t do this to him.” You pull away, and the panic you feel is almost immediate. “Steve, I… We can’t do this to Bucky. He’s so good to me, he doesn’t deserve this! We can’t, we can’t–”

“He’ll understand.” Steve says firmly, keeping a tight hold on you. “It’ll be hard for him, but once he sees that we’re in love, he’ll understand. And it’s good for him too, because this way he can find a mate who is better suited for him.”

Through the haze of Steve’s smoky firewood and hot summer day scent, you think back to Bucky and his crinkled smile. How he’d been the first one to speak to you on your first day, how he’d walked you to the library and how at ease you’d felt with him. How his lopsided smile, sparkling eyes and effortless charm had reeled you in. All the nights spent cuddling or watching TV or just talking and talking and talking. How respectful he’d been of your boundaries; how sweet and patient and intuitive he’d been any time you felt uncomfortable or upset.

How he’d complimented you every chance he got, building up your self-esteem through his love and adoration. How his easy-going nature made you feel so comfortable… But yet not comfortable enough to let him in. And that’s when the guilt seems to attack every cell of your body, killing you from the inside out. Why? Why couldn’t you just let Bucky in? Why couldn’t you just love him? Why, why, why?

Why did it have to turn out this way?

“No.” You shake your head, trying to shake away the thick haze of Steve’s scent which seems to be corrupting your every sense. And when you next speak, your voice is firmer, and you wipe the tears from your face, and you sit up straight, and you shrug his hands off of you. “No, Steve. We can’t do this. I need to get out, I need to–”

Steve’s eyes narrow once more, “Omega, listen to me–”

“Let me out of this car! Just let me out, okay! I’m not doing this to him! You’re wrong, Steve! You’re wrong, wrong, wrong! I don’t like you like that!” You rattle the door handle desperately, but of course it doesn’t budge. “Let me out, Steve! I can’t think in here, I need to get out! I need to speak to Bucky, I need to… I need to…”

You feel yourself going lax in his arms, your limbs turning to jelly as he places his hand on your mating gland, fingers pressing down. It sends thrills and shivers up and down your body as he draws you back to him, closer and closer till he’s embracing you.

“I’m your alpha.” Steve whispers in your ear, and the possessiveness in his tone rocks you to your very core. “You’re my omega, all mine. It’s like you were made for me. And that’s all that matters.”

You’re about to protest once more, and then you feel his teeth graze against your mating gland. It feels peculiar, thrilling, dangerous all at the same time. But the threat of his action doesn’t register immediately, and it takes you a second too long to realise, and then–

“No, Steve, don’t! Don’t!”

A blood-curdling scream leaves your mouth. Steve’s teeth are sharp and unforgiving as they clamp down on your mating gland. And his bite if so painful, like he’s chipping and tearing away at any traces of autonomy left in your body. The sensitive skin of your neck breaks and tears along with the last remnants of your independence.

Everything stills around you. Everything but Steve. He’s all you can feel now. His heartbeat, loud and wild. Or is that your heartbeat? Everything feels different, nothing is the same. It’s all Steve. All of your senses are Steve. All of your feelings are Steve.

“I’m never gonna let you go.” Steve whispers against the fresh wound on your neck, licking at his handiwork which will soon turn into a mark that brands you as his forever.

His presence around you is infinite. The intense heat of his aura mixed with his addictive scent, hitting you from all angles like a tidal wave.

And, like a bittersweet film coming to an end, it washes away the memory of Bucky before you even have the chance to say goodbye.

SDKGKSLAG OKAY.

So.... did I just present y’all with a Steve x omega fic disguised as Bucky fic?? Despite hyping the Bucky fic for MONTHS? Well... *dodges tomatoes* Yes. Yes I did. I’M SORRY BUCKY GIRLIES. STOMEGA FOREVER. This was the plan from the start, because it doesn’t matter if Bucky asked for omega’s number first - she would always end up with Steve. In any AU. In every AU. ANYWAYS. GUYS. I hope you liked it and I hope you’re not mad! I really really really would love to know what yall thought! Like genuinely, I jsut NEED to know what you guys thought of this bc honestly... I am not so sure AHHHHH. okay i’ll shut up now. Bye.

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #sebastian stan #chris evans #sebastian stan x reader

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xo-kyeong · 1 year

Text

Here puppy 🐾

Pairings: Izuku, Todoroki, Bakugou x Reader (Individual Characters)

Scenario: Imagine the reader owning a cute little pup, just innocently cooing at the ball of fur, but unbeknownst to you, someone else from across the dorm can’t get their mind off of you.

WARNINGS: Suggestive Content, (mentions of masturbation in bakugou’s) Reader and the characters are over the age of 18 (most likely in college) Cursing/Foul Language. If I missed anything please let me know! ^^

Izuku Midoriya

“Aww, you’re so cute!” You coo at your little brown puppy, eyes sparkling with excitement as you sit in the common area playing with her. She barks as you keep talking to her, her tail wagging in joy.

"Argh!! (Y/n) your pupper is so cute!" Uraraka exclaimed, hearts nearly forming in her eyes as the pup smiled and barked at her.

"Isn’t she? I even taught her a few tricks back at home!" You confidently say this while facing the dog, preparing to showcase her tricks. The girls are sitting with you in the common area, anticipating the tricks you’ll pull up your sleeve.

“All right girl, jump!” You say, and your dog immediately obeys. “Wah!! You’re so good for me!” You say a bit too loud that the boys on the other side of the dorm could hear.

When Izuku heard that phrase come out of your mouth, he was instantly red.

“Yo, Midoriya, you okay?” Kirishima snaps him out of his thoughts, his eyes immediately facing the group of boys that he’s with.

“Y-yeah! I’m fine” He mellows down, only to hear more of your squeals of praise towards your pet.

Though he has to remember that those praises aren’t really directed at him… or are they?

Katsuki Bakugou

“Katsuki! Look at him! Isn’t he the cutest? Agh, I’m so glad my parents got to drop him by at our dorms!” Your puppy barks as you lift him up to be met with puppy kisses.

“Baby! Quit slobbering all over me!” You laugh, and Bakugou (who is right next to you) can’t help but roll his eyes at the little mut. He’s the one you’re supposed to be paying attention to, not that furry monster.

You get a pet toy from behind your back and wave it in-front of your pet. Bakugou watches as you playfully challenge the dog.

“You want it so bad? Hm? You want it?” You say, and in Katsuki’s mind, you said it as if you were talking to him.

His thoughts can’t help but go back to when he was fisting himself to the thought of you. God, he does want you bad, like so bad.

“I’ll be right back, Katsuki. Play with him for a bit for me, please?” You plead, and as if Bakugou has any other choice.

“Thanks, Bakugou!” He waves you off, and looks at the small pup in-front of him. Its eyes still following the toy that was in his hands.

“I’m so whipped for your owner, huh boy?” He throws the toy only for the pup to fetch it and bring it back to him.

Todoroki Shouto

“Here boy!” You call out to your baby pup, Todoroki walked inside your dorm room as you were playing with your cute pet.

“Oh, Todoroki! Isn’t he a cutie?” Your pet approaches you and lies on its back, exposing its tummy area for you to scratch.

“Aww, isn’t that my good little boy” you coo at your barking pup, catching Todoroki off guard with that one phrase.

He’s immediately turning the other way, face absolutely red whilst you’re still playing and cooing at your pup.

You pupper takes notice of his actions and approaches Todoroki’s lap. “Oh my god! Shouto! He likes you!” Your voice beams in a high pitched note, ultimately showing how excited you are with how well your pup gets along with Todoroki.

“You know, we’d make great fur-parents” you say, your head resting on Todoroki’s shoulder while he pets the dog sleeping on his lap.

“Yeah, we sure would” he smiles softly at you, admiring uour relaxed state.

#bnha headcanons #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia #izuku x reader #bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader

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aurumacadicus · 3 months

Text

You know what would be funny lmao

Tony hadn't been entirely enthused when Steve had showed up after a run with puppy eyes and said, "Just until his owners contact us? He's part husky, someone must be looking for him." He wasn't a dog-person. He was barely a person-person. But he'd conceded, since the dog was staying a finite amount of time, and Steve had promised to bathe it before letting it roam the apartment, and the dog turned out to be house trained already. He even got JARVIS scanning local social media to find its owners. It wouldn't be for long.

And then JARVIS had found a picture and gently informed them that 'Dodger's family had been among the casualties during the alien invasion and while he kept getting adopted, he also kept getting returned, because he kept running away.

"Oh," Steve had said, choked up, and Tony had miserably ordered a dog bed and monogrammed dishes. (He'd reached out to the owners' families, first, of course, but they'd admitted they didn't have the time or space for an escape artist dog that liked to run for hours.)

Dodger wasn't really so bad, though, Tony thought. Steve kept him very well exercised, and Dodger was a great running buddy because Steve never had to worry about tiring him out. He didn't get on the furniture unless they called for him. And sure, he was loud, but Tony found himself talking back to him as if he was a person, and Steve was apparently smitten about it, if Natasha was to be believed.

And, Tony couldn't help but think smugly, Dodger liked cuddling with him better. It was probably because Tony was around more (Steve still went on missions that could last for weeks, but he'd set up an account with a dog-walking service so Tony didn't have to worry about that either). When Steve was there, Tony tried to stay hands off, but when he was gone, he and Dodger got to sulk about it together, and it was a very uniting endeavor. So most nights Steve was gone, they'd lounge together on the couch, Tony watching old movies that didn't require too much attention and Dodger with his nose buried someplace a wet nose was particularly annoying, like on his stomach or the back of his neck.

"I'm home," Steve called, and then, "Really? Neither of you are coming to greet me?"

"You were supposed to be home three days ago," Tony grumped, not looking away from the TV. He'd told Dodger that he was giving Steve the cold shoulder yesterday, and Dodger had yelped back something sounding like 'woo woove woo,' which Tony had decided meant he agreed with him. He knew he'd break eventually, but he decided Steve had to work for it this time, especially because he hadn't wanted him to go undercover for a month anyway.

"Hydra was literally chasing me all over Sweden," Steve said, flabbergasted, as he finally came over to the couch. He frowned at Dodger. "This is no way to treat your main owner."

Dodger lifted his head, mouth opened in a grin, and let out a 'wowyow!'

"I'll remember this when you want to go out for a run with me tomorrow," Steve groused, then scowled at Tony. "And you too. I'm gonna leave him in while I run so he can just bother you."

"I'll cuddle him instead," Tony told him flatly.

Steve let out a wounded noise, then couldn't swallow back an amused huff, leaning over the couch. "Yeah, well, we'll see about that." He waited a beat to see if Tony would take the bait, but he'd been stewing over his safety for three days, so he got nothing. Sighing, he rolled his eyes and sat up a little, reaching out to lay a smack to Tony's ass, because he knew that, at least, would get a reaction.

Tony barely had time to jump in surprise before Dodger was up, barking at him. "Oh my god????"

"Dodger oh my fuck," Steve spluttered, rearing back with his hands up.

Dodger hunched over Tony's body protectively, still barking, loud, assertive noises that left them both absolutely gobsmacked. Finally, though, Tony came out of his shock and turned, wrapping his arms around Dodger in an effort to soothe him. "It's okay, sweetheart, Daddy was just trying to rile me up."

"It's not like he hasn't seen me smack your ass before," Steve exclaimed defensively.

"Maybe if you'd spanked me three days ago, he wouldn't be barking," Tony scoffed.

"Unbelievable. I didn't want to lead Hydra directly to my boyfriend and you're scolding me," Steve said in disbelief. Then he rolled his eyes and sighed, turning to head for the bedroom. "I'm going to shower. Maybe we'll both cool off."

"I'm fine," Tony said sternly.

Steve tossed an unamused frown over his shoulder. "I meant me and Dodger."

"You're both very anxious dogs," Tony agreed sympathetically, then squealed when Dodger shoved his cold nose against his throat, covering Steve's gleeful 'you deserve that!'

#ideas #stony #dogs

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seravphs · 11 months

Text

beating hearts promised to bared teeth — part one: “The God Finds A Familiar”

KITSUNE! GOJO x GOD! FEM READER; KAMISAMA HAJIMEMASHITA AU

When a kind stranger offers you his home because your gambling addict of a father can’t pay rent, you’re left in charge of a shrine - with a catch. Once you arrive at your new home, you learn a crucial fact that he conveniently left out. You’re the new god in charge, and his familiar, who now belongs to you, does not like you. What’s a new god to do, especially when she finds herself slowly falling for the fox spirit?

wc — 10k

tags — enemies to lovers, shoujo manga heroine type reader, Japanese mythology/yokai, age gap (1000 year old fox and high school girl), slowburn, cameo from Sukuna, Toji, and Nanami, cameo from original Kamisama Hajimemashita cast

part two — “The God Finds A Husband” (coming soon)

shoujo series masterlist

If your stomach growls any louder, you’ll scare off the squirrels fighting over the end of a baguette loaf by the park bench you’re sitting on.

You’re currently in the middle of what others might describe as very hard times. To be honest, your very hard times have been going on for a while now - they just culminated at this specific moment. Regardless, these days are only temporary. You’ve promised yourself that one day, you’ll be able to smile from the bottom of your heart.

It’s just that it was easier said than done when you weren’t homeless. Your father has never been the most reliable of men. You had to take over the household finances by the time you were eight, so you’ve always been accustomed to his lack of responsibility, but today really solidified his status in your mind as an absolutely useless, no good man. It’s unfathomable cruelty to have left his only daughter with no money, no relatives, and no home.

You don’t want to call it cruel. For all of his faults, you still love your father. And it’s because you love him that you know this wasn’t a cruel act. Cruelty is intentional. It’s malicious. It comes from a desire to hurt. Your father has never wanted to hurt you. It’s just a byproduct of his gambling addiction. You’re collateral damage in his quest for the jackpot that would solve all his problems.

You double over in agony at the renewed complaints from your stomach. At least you’ve gone from scaring mere squirrels to scaring passersby. That’s an upgrade, right?

One woman clutches her purse closer as she walks past you as briskly as possible. You get it, you look bad.

But there’s no use being resentful. Your father has been barely one step above a deadbeat all your life. At the very least, you’re used to fending for yourself. Your stomach growls again, but you’re determined to ignore it. You need a plan of action. One step after another, you’ll make it out of these troublesome times.

Before you can start to plot, a loud cry for help catches your attention. It sounds like someone else is in even more dire straits than you are, which is saying a lot.

The squirrels have long since scattered, run off not by the scary noises coming from your famished stomach, but a pack of dogs. Somehow, a man has climbed several feet into the tree next to the trash can, and now perched precariously in its branches. Below him, curious dogs tilt their heads and give cautious barks.

“Aw, hello there, cuties,” you coo, rubbing behind their ears. They yip at you enthusiastically. One sets to chasing his own tail around the tree. They seem friendly enough, but you suppose one can’t help their phobias. A little regretfully, you chase them off.

“Go on now,” you tell the last one, leading him away. He whines, but does as you say. What a good boy.

“Thank you,” says the stranger stranded in the tree. He slides down the trunk, face slowly regaining color. “I owe you my life.”

“It was nothing!” You smile, but he won’t let you brush off your good deed.

“You’re a good kid,” he nods approvingly. “Gotta reward that. Is there anything you want?”

A home.

Not just the house you shared with your father, but somewhere warm to return to. A person who waits to see you safely inside the threshold.

But you know a stranger can’t give you that, so you shake your head and smile. “Really, it was nothing. You don’t owe me anything.”

As if he had heard your inner monologue, the stranger raises an eyebrow. “A home, hm? I might be able to help with that.”

Before you can react, he leans in and kisses your forehead. Where his lips touched your skin feels faintly warm and tingly, almost like the sensation of your leg going numb, before you recoil from him in shock.

He presses a map into your hand and tells you, “Go to this address. Tell them Yaga sent you, and you’ll be welcomed with open arms.”

With that, he runs off.

What a strange man.

Well, you’ve had a strange life, taking care of your hopeless father and all. Perhaps these things really did happen. It wasn’t so impossible for strangers to appear out of nowhere and reward you for good deeds. Maybe all the fairytales your father had read to you back when he hadn’t been so terrible were true.

Or maybe that was the wishful thinking of an optimistically delusional girl who needed somewhere to stay desperately.

The address is located on the outskirts of town. Pushing deeper into foliage and closer to forest than civilization, you find the location you had been sent to.

It’s a shrine.

A run-down shrine, of all places.

Are you on a comedy show? Should you start checking for cameras?

Against your will, you feel your eyes grow hot. That was a cruel trick to play. He had gotten your hopes up for nothing.

It’s not just your eyes. Your entire body starts to feel warm. The world around you erupts into blue flame. Heat licks at your shins as you scramble towards safety, closer to the center of the circle that has formed around you.

When the flames suddenly leap, as if they’ll consume the entire sky, you scream and drop to your knees, covering your head like it’s a bomb threat. Two childish voices ring in your head, as clear and crisp as bells.

Welcome home, Yaga-sama.

It’s a shrine. There’s only one logical conclusion.

This is a haunting.

There’s only one safe path out of the ring of fire, and it’s towards the building you’ve now concluded is the site of paranormal activity. Between being actively burned alive or facing spirits though, you know which one you’ll choose.

Your frantic fingers fumble over the latch on the shrine’s red doors as the fire inches closer and closer until you can feel its heat on your back. Finally, you throw open the doors and all but launch yourself inside. The heat recedes, but the voices do not.

“Back already, Yaga?” A male voice drawls. “I thought your pilgrimage would’ve taken longer. After leaving me to maintain the shrine by myself for sixty years -“

You shriek as an enormous, clawed hand comes down towards your face. Your eyes squeeze shut, waiting for the end.

“I’m not Yaga,” you wail, hoping it will save you.

“You have a lot of nerve?” The voice finishes, more uncertainly than before. When you deem it safe to open your eyes once more, what stands before is a young man dressed in all white. White hair and blue eyes make for a staring constraint, but his coloring isn’t what’s strange about him.

It’s his clawed hands and the equally white fox tail behind him.

“Megumi, Tsumiki,” he says authoritatively. “This isn’t Yaga.”

A shining ball of fire comes forward, speaking in the little girl’s voice you heard earlier. “That can’t be right! Look, she has the mark of the god on her forehead.”

You touch your forehead, remembering the warm tingly sensation you had felt when that man kissed you. Feeling slightly delirious, you start to laugh, only to grow alarmed when you find you can’t stop. You’re growing out of breath from your near hysterical laughing, tears streaming out of the corners of your eyes.

“Oh, great,” says the fox spirit. “She’s crazy.”

“She’s the one with the mark,” the other ball of fire, Megumi, says. “That means she’s the god whether you like it or not, Gojo.”

Tsumiki darts over to you, but halfway through her journey, she goes from fire to a little child just under 2 feet tall. She’s wearing a mask and plain blue yukata.

“We have to celebrate!” She claps her hands together in excitement. “Our god has finally returned!”

Gojo looks dismissively down on you. Your laughing fit is finally starting to die down, but he doesn’t seem impressed regardless. “What god? I won’t accept a little human girl as my master. She couldn’t handle the strength of a familiar like me.”

His condescension only makes you giggle harder. You can’t help it. Something about the fluffy fox ears protruding out of his head makes it hard to take him seriously.

“What strength?” You laugh in his face. “This shrine is so dilapidated, I doubt you’re anything special.”

Gojo looks away. “If she stays, I’m leaving. I won’t serve this kind of pathetic god.”

He disappears in a cloud of white smoke before Tsumiki can finish saying, “Don’t be like that!”

The will-o-wisp children introduce themselves to you as shrine spirits who look after the building. It takes a while, but by the time they kindly show you to the room where you’ll be staying, you can distinguish Tsumiki from Megumi by the differences in the masks they never take off.

Your room is simple and threadbare. The walls are paneled bamboo and the only furnishing is an old futon. Still, you’re grateful. It’s leagues better than sleeping in the woods, which is what you started this day fearing you would have to resort to. You’ve never been the type to complain, and you won’t start now, no matter how strange your life has gotten.

Fox spirits and will-o-wisp children don’t exist. They’re the stuff of myths. Maybe you’re just seeing things because you’re tired, you muse as you drift off to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning after a nice, long rest. The events of today will feel so far away, and you’ll be able to start over.

Or maybe you’re dead already, and you’re wandering in the Netherworld. Perhaps the reason you can see spirits is because you’re currently residing in their land. Your entire body seizes up as you jolt yourself back to wakefulness.

“Kamisama,” Tsumiki has crept back into your room. “Are you alright?”

You tell her to call you by her name. Calling you god just doesn’t feel right.

Gently, she nestles down by your pillow and puts her cold little hands on your forehead. Rather than shocking to your senses, it feels pleasant. When you were a little girl and got sick, your father used to let you stay home from school. He’d pack a towel with ice cubes and place it on your overheated forehead, staying up with you all night just to chat. It’s a good memory.

“It’ll be alright,” Tsumiki tells you in her gentle voice. “You’ll see.”

For spirits that supposedly take care of the shrine, you have a suspicion that Tsumiki and Megumi are pushing their work onto you when they brief you on your chores the next morning. It turns out godhood is a lot less summoning storms and a lot more doing yard work.

Tsumiki insists that keeping the shrine pure is important for keeping evil spirits away. For some reason, that means cleaning. When you ask about calling lightning or summoning lions, Megumi laughs at you.

“That’s Getou-sama’s job,” he says. “Your specialty is marriage. Yaga was very good at tying peoples’ fates together. You will be, too.”

He has more faith than you do in that regard. When it comes to chores, however, you’re more certain of your abilities. Busy work keeps the absurdity of your situation from sinking in, and you’re good at running the household from years of dealing with your father. You’re grateful for something to do. If you think about the past day too hard, you might break down into shocked laughter and never get back up.

Besides, even if you don’t feel particularly ready to be a god, Tsumiki and Megumi are letting you stay in the shrine. You have to earn your keep. Soon, you settle into the process of cleaning, letting the methodical, rhythmic nature of your movements erase any doubts in your mind. You think of nothing but the cooling sensation of the water when you dip your rag into the bucket and the clean, woody scent of the shrine as you scrub the wood.

“Ooh,” Tsumiki says approvingly when she appears. “It looks better already! Can you do the lawn next?”

Plucking weeds is notably less soothing than cleaning. With no gloves, you’re careful to avoid hurting yourself as you tug on spiky vines and knotted twigs, but it’s no use. Eventually, you lose focus and a sharp sting graces your finger. Blood drips down your hand. You hiss in pain.

A hand with white claws instead of nails grabs your wrist. You yelp in shock as Gojo brings your finger to his mouth and laps at the blood. It stains his lips slightly red. He worries at the cut with his tongue, making your wound ache. You try to pull back, but he holds on.

To your amazement, the cut closes before your eyes. You’re just about to thank him when he ruins the moment.

“You really are useless,” he says. “You can’t even pluck grass?”

You yank your hand out of his grip as hard as you can, sending yourself tumbling back against the grass. You hate how it must make yourself seem even more human in his eyes, a weak, fragile thing.

“Give up,” he says, and it’s almost gentle, the way his claws graze your chin as he holds your face in one hand. “You’re not suited to be a god.”

You turn away, unwilling to let him see any more of your vulnerability. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Suit yourself,” he says with a noise of annoyance. “Brats who run away from home aren’t my problem.”

“I didn’t run away!” You snap, whirling on him. “My dad was the one who ran! I don’t have anywhere else to go!”

But he’s gone.

At least Megumi and Tsumiki are nice to you. Megumi takes the bucket of weeds you deposit at the front door and whisks it somewhere out of your sight, while Tsumiki prepares a nice, hot bath for you. Exhausted, you collapse onto the bamboo floor spread eagle.

God, a voice murmurs in your head.

Not again. You don’t want any more spirits to deal with. When you raise your head, instead of another yokai, there’s an old woman standing in front of the shrine. Her head is bowed and her hands are clasped in prayer.

Please bless my daughter’s marriage so that she will enjoy a long and fruitful life with her partner.

Her voice is coming from some place inside your head. It resonates like a bell, ringing crisp and clear. You stretch out your hands wonderingly. You don’t look any different.

“You see?” Tsumiki says approvingly. “You’re a god.”’

But you don’t feel like one. You feel just like a normal person.

“A god needs a familiar.” You can’t see Megumi’s face behind his mask as he speaks, but you can imagine the solemn little boy he must be. “You need to bind Gojo to you.”

“How do I do that?”

“You have to kiss him.”

You wait for them to tell you they’re joking.

“What? I can’t kiss him! Is there-”

Megumi cuts in. “It’s just the traditional way to seal the contract. Don’t think too much of it.”

The fact that neither of them are bothered makes you feel like the ridiculous one for being off put by this, but you’re sure you’re not. Still, if you’re a god now, you have to put all of your mortal sensibilities aside. It’s like another culture, you tell yourself. Like how Europeans kiss each other on the cheek to say hello. Even if you can’t convince yourself, Megumi and Tsumiki are insistent.

You were so fired up just a second ago, but now your head is filled with doubts. If such a simple matter can sway you, are you really meant to be a god after all? Maybe Gojo is right. Maybe you should just leave.

“Please,” Tsumiki says. She looks distraught. “Don’t abandon us. Please don’t leave.”

Megumi doesn’t say anything, but his silence is enough.

“Okay,” you say, feeling defeated. “I’ll give it a shot.”

You’ve always been good at chores. If taming Gojo is just another part of your new job, it sounds like it's time to get serious.

“Take me to him.”

Megumi and Tsumiki balk.

“Right now?”

“Why not? The sooner I get it over with, the better, right?”

“He’s...indisposed at the moment,” Tsumiki says carefully.

“Indisposed? Is he sick?”

“Not quite,” Megumi says. He’s very expressive for a spirit. You can practically imagine him grimacing.

“Then it’s fine!”

You would soon come to regret your words.

Megumi and Tsumiki lead you out of the shrine. They show you where to find the path that can lead you to the land of spirits and demons. Your entire body rebels at the feeling of being in this other world, but at the same time, you feel at home here. The god and the girl that coexist inside of you are mutually repelled by and attracted to this place.

Even though you know Megumi and Tsumiki aren’t really children, or at least children in the way mortals think of them, you’re still concerned about letting them traipse around this dangerous place. However, they seem more used to this world than you are. That energy is better devoted to fending for yourself.

They lead you under bridges where the running water smells like flowers and women’s voices hiss in the babble of the current. Tree leaves rustle with hands that disappear into darkness. You follow them through dark alleyways lined with red paper blessings, and doorsteps encircled with salt. Eyes follow you, leaving your skin crawling.

You’re so focused on keeping your head down and staying out of danger that you almost don’t notice when they stop. You nearly run Megumi over.

“He’s inside here,” Tsumiki says.

Is it just you, or does she seem nervous?

The lanterns inside this establishment are turned down to a dimness that barely illuminates the corridors. Sweet smelling smoke writhes around your feet from some unknown source as you head deeper and deeper into the maze of hallways, following the pair of shrine spirits. You pass women wearing fox masks, dressed in luxurious kimonos. Their hair towers over their head in elaborate updos, held in place with beautiful pins inlaid with chartreuse and gold.

Megumi stops before a folding screen door. Like all things within this building, it’s beautiful. The silk screen is painted with images of flowers and more gruesome scenes as well, but somehow, it’s still breath-taking. A little like Gojo, in that regard.

You hear the voices of women behind the screen, flattering Gojo. The light of a single candle illuminates the dim room, imprinting his silhouette against it, as well as that of the two women with him. They’re draped over him, hands roaming his body as they purr their compliments. Your face burns with embarrassment.

“What are you doing?” Megumi demands of Gojo. “How can you parade around the red-light district like this? You’re the familiar of a god, not some common demon! If Yaga knew, it’d break his poor heart.”

Behind the screen, Gojo merely brushes him off. “Yaga’s been replaced by some little human worm. Why should I care what he thinks now?”

“What about the shrine? Don’t you care about that, at least?” Tsumiki's voice is thick with reproach.

“Now that you mention it, I don’t think I do,” he says. “Ha! You know what? Maybe I should thank that girl. Now that I’m free, I can do whatever I want.”

“Gojo-“

“I’ll can indulge in every little vice Yaga never allowed me to touch before. Who would want to be a familiar when I can have all of this?”

“Gojo, our god is here.”

“What?”

He leaps up and pushes the screen aside, coming face to face with you. He looks startled to see you, though you don’t see why he should care, since he so desires to lead a life of sin.

You look upon him with disgust. You might want a familiar, but you’re not so desperate you’d stoop as low as this. Gojo cares so little for anyone but himself. If you’re going to be a god, you’re going to do it right. You’ll pick a good familiar, one who will genuinely love the shrine as much as it deserves.

You turn and leave as he, half-clothed, frantically starts pulling on the outer layers of his kimono.

“Wait,” he calls after you. “Tsumiki! Megumi! Why would you bring her here?”

“She wanted to see you,” Megumi retorts.

“This isn’t the place for a human,” he says. “She’s going to get eaten!”

The faster Gojo follows you, the faster you run from him. By the time you’re out of what you’ve come to realize is a brothel, you’re sprinting. Your legs carry you right into someone else as your face slams against a broad, muscled chest.

“Oh,” says a voice above your head. “How pretty.”

A hand caresses your face. This spirit has tattoo marks across his face and body. More interestingly, he has multiple arms.

You’re frozen in place by fear as he brings his mouth closer and closer to your face. He’s close enough to kiss, but this is a spirit, which means he’s more likely to eat you.

“Be good for me now,” he purrs in your ear. “Fear makes flesh all the sweeter.”

Three of his six arms are consumed by fire. He pushes you away from him in favor of batting out the flame.

Gojo pulls you towards him, hiding you in the folds of his billowing kimono. You press your face against his shoulder, swallowing back the tears of fear from nearly being eaten. Somehow, he feels safe, even though he’s been nothing but antagonistic towards you. He feels almost protective as he shields your body with his, securing you under one arm.

“Scram,” he tells the other demon. “She’s mine, Sukuna.”

Sukuna rolls his pairs of eyes. “You weren’t with her when I caught her. She’s fair game.”

Fox fire flickers in Gojo’s hand. His white talons seem to elongate before your eyes.

“If you want to fight over her, then by all means,” he says with a dangerous smile. “But we both know I’d win.”

“Maybe later then,” Sukuna says, lazily as if Gojo isn’t threatening him. “Once I’ve eaten my fill.”

He stalks off into the night in search of more prey.

“This is why I told you to wait,” Gojo says, running his hand over his face. “You’re practically bait in this world. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

You nod, not trusting your voice, but he catches on anyways.

“Don’t cry,” he says, his face twisted in a grimace. “I won’t know what to do if you cry. Look, this is just your life now, okay? You’ll have to get used to it.”

On impulse, you press your face into his shoulder again, still sniffling. You want to be comforted, even though you know he won’t give it to you.

“Ugh,” he says, true to form. “Quit that.”

By the time you’ve calmed down, Gojo has already escorted you back to the shrine.

“Don’t come back,” he tells you.

Of course, you can’t listen to him. On your second night in the land of the dead and monsters, not only do you have to hide from beasts who would devour you the moment they found out what you were, you also have to hide from Gojo. You’re wearing a disguise, courtesy of Tsumiki and Megumi.

In your defense, it’s not like you want to be here. You need a familiar, and it’s clearly not going to be Gojo.

According to Tsumiki, Gojo’s the strongest, but there are other familiars who would be willing to serve you. They’re all in the Netherworld, however, and you have to find them before you can contract them.

You pull the curtain of the hat shielding your face a little closer around you as you peer at the faces surrounding you, trying to gauge who looks friendly. None of them do. You’ve been wandering around for hours, but not a single spirit has stood out to you.

In the end, you don’t find him. He finds you.

“A human god?” A hand grasps your wrist loosely. “That’s rare. Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be here?”

The man in front of you looks normal by any standards - but you know better than to trust your gut in the netherworld. Still, he’s the closest thing to a human you��ve seen in a while. Surrounded by a maelstrom of monsters, he feels like the eye of the storm. There’s a quiet and a calm surrounding him, even as you walk among noderabo with withered, leathery skin and scaly yajo.

It’s not like he’s in his own little pocket of the world, you realize. He is. Everyone is purposefully giving him a wide berth.

“Who are you?”

“I asked first,” he says.

“You know who I am! You just said so - I’m the human god.”

His eyes rake over you. “So you are. But what are you doing here, girl?”

You throw his words back in his face obstinately. “You first.”

“I’m Toji.” That doesn’t tell you anything, but he’s clearly unwilling to divulge more. “Your turn.”

“I’m looking for a familiar.”

“What about your familiar? I heard that Gojo-sama isn’t keen on sharing.”

Somehow, the way he says Gojo-sama sounds derisive, even with the respectful honorific.

“He doesn’t want to be my familiar.”

The rejection stings coming out of your own mouth.

“Sounds like him. Haughty bastard, he couldn’t stand to serve a human girl, could he?”

“Yeah! He’s an asshole,” you say, feeling validated.

When Toji laughs, the scar over his lip tugs one side of his mouth down. You kind of like it. And he must be strong, just looking at him. He’s well muscled and covered in scars. Of course, there’s the little matter of the reverence everyone around you is offering him. Tsumiki and Megumi had told you to just go out and find one. Could it be that easy?

“Are you interested?”

He gives you a look of barely concealed amusement. “You’re funny, girl. I don’t think Gojo would like that very much, though.”

“I don’t care what Gojo thinks.”

“Oh, here he comes now. Don’t go running too far - you’ll worry him,” he says, slow and easy. His confidence is absurd - it reminds you of Gojo, actually. He must be strong. “If you’re really serious about wanting me as a familiar, why don’t you meet me here again in three days?”

“What are you doing?” Gojo snarls at you. His teeth match the rest of his fox physique. With wonder, you realize that his pearly canines are pointed beyond what’s normal. “I told you not to come back!”

“But- He-” You turn around to point Toji out, but he’s gone.

“Who?” Gojo says.

“He was right there!”

“You’re so annoying,” Gojo bites out. “I don’t care what happens to you, but if you die, Megumi and Tsumiki will cry, so stop wandering off on your own. You’re lucky you didn’t get devoured on the spot.”

He’s starting to get really irritating. You shove his hands off.

“You know it’s actually your fault I’m here, right? If you didn’t reject me, I wouldn’t have to scour the Netherworld for a familiar.”

Gojo scoffs. “My fault? Maybe you should take a look at yourself. If you were less weak, I wouldn’t have a problem serving you!”

“That’s- You’re impossible!” You splutter. “I can’t help being weak! I was born this way! Not everyone is so lucky to be born a kitsune, oh-so-great-Gojo-sama.”

“Enough,” he sighs. Taking you by your wrist, he forcibly drags you through the streets back in the direction you came.

“Ow! You’re hurting me!”

“Gojo!” Megumi’s reproving voice breaks the argument up before it can begin again.

He lets go of you almost guiltily, if you thought he could feel guilt.

“I’ll take her home,” Megumi says.

Gojo’s tail lashes behind him angrily, but Megumi doesn’t spare him a second glance as he ushers you away.

“Thank you,” you tell him in relief. “What are you doing here?”

“You were taking a long time,” he says. “Tsumiki and I were getting worried. Did you find anyone?”

You think of Toji. “No,” you say. “No one.”

The next day, while Megumi and Tsumiki dress you for your trip through the Netherworld again, Megumi presses three slips of white paper into your hands.

“We should’ve taught you this sooner,” he says. “One of the powers of a god is to transform objects. Whatever you write on this charm will become true - within the scope of your power. Be safe.”

Armed with your paper slips, you feel like a real god. Tsumiki pushes you out the door with a prayer for good luck, though you’re not sure you can grant prayers to yourself for yourself.

Outside the door, something whines by your feet.

“Gojo?”

Or is that a regular white fox?

It snaps its teeth at you.

Definitely Gojo.

“I don’t need an escort,” you tell him, making shooing motions at him with your hands. “Go away!”

He rolls over and yips at you, his tail wagging.

“I can’t understand you like this!”

“I said,” a cloud of smoke reveals him, mostly humanoid once again, except for his ears and tail. “I don’t want to do this either. It’s for Megumi and Tsumiki.”

Toji doesn’t seem to like him, so you don’t want to risk bringing him with you. Despite your best attempts to shake him, Gojo follows you as you retrace your steps back into the spirit world. You’re just starting to despair when you spot a bigger reason to be upset.

“Hello, delicious,” Sukuna says. “Ready for round two?”

Why does he look even more terrifying? Did he get bigger?

“Leave her alone,” Gojo says, almost bored. “It’s pathetic. You can only bully things weaker than you, huh?”

“I’m not afraid to fight you,” Sukuna tells him.

You’re panicking. They both look serious. You don’t want to be caught between these two forces of nature.

“You should be,” Gojo says, and steps in front of you. Over his shoulder, he tells you, “Run. You’re in my way.”

This is the chance you were waiting for.

Toji’s dressed differently when you find him again. Last night, he was wearing a casual black kimono. Tonight, he’s dressed in a tight fitting black shirt and loose white pants.

“You look nice,” you tell him, feeling anxious. Your mind keeps going back to Gojo. You’re sure he can hold his own, but you’re still worried for him. As you are, however, you’re of no help to him. The only way you’d be able to rescue him if he actually was in danger is by making a contract with a powerful familiar.

“It’s for work,” he says. “Follow me.”

“We can’t do it here?”

“Do you want to kiss me in front of everyone?” He shrugs and reaches for you. “I mean, I’m down if you are, but I figured-”

“No,” you squeak and dart away. “Privacy is good!”

He laughs. “You’re as funny as ever, huh? C’mere.”

Toji leads you off the beaten path and further into the woods. The only thing that keeps you from feeling more nervous is the moon shining overhead, illuminating your path. It feels almost like a friend is with you.

“Here is good,” Toji says, stopping at a clearing.

“It’s so pretty,” you breathe out, dazzled. This deep into the woods, fireflies are lighting your way. Beneath your feet, a springy bed of flowers and moss covers the floor.

“What can I say? I’m a romantic.”

“Yeah, right,” you laugh at him, but you draw closer. You think you could trust him. You think you could be partners with him.

Then Toji grabs you by the shoulders and dangles you off the edge of the clearing, over a steep drop you hadn’t noticed. The sharp cut off had been hidden by flowers, danger painted over with beauty.

“Sorry, kid,” Toji says. “No hard feelings, right?”

“Why?” You whisper. Gojo had been right.

“There’s a bounty on your head,” he says. “Getou has offered to grant the wish of anyone who kills you.”

His eyes turn wistful. “I have a kid. Haven’t seen him in years. You understand, right? It’s not personal.”

The fall is brutal. The wind whips tears into your eyes, if you weren’t already crying from the fear of falling to your death. You have to do something, anything. Above your head, something white flutters.

A dove?

Then another.

It’s one of the paper ofuda Megumi had given you before you left, caught in the updraft of you rushing down to earth. You snatch it out of the air. You can’t reach the pen in your pocket. With increasing desperation, you bite down on your finger hard enough to draw blood and trace the characters for a tree branch onto it. Holding it aloft, you pray.

Between your hands, wood solidifies. You’re clinging to a scrap of a twig sprouting from the rocky cliffside. Megumi’s words echo in your head - only within the scope of your power.

So this is it, huh?

That’s all there is of your godly strength.

“Looks like you’re in trouble,” Gojo says. He has no problem balancing on the sheer cliff. His appearance is impeccable, completely unscathed from his fight with Sukuna. He perches like a bird, as comfortable as if he were standing on solid ground. “Do you need help?”

Thank god. He’s here to save you! You nod, turning teary eyes on him. You were wrong about him. Gojo really is a good guy, deep down.

“If you say, ‘Please save me, Gojo-sama, I was stupid.’ I’ll help you. Throw in some crying and begging, too.”

Your eyes dry up instantly. He’s a total bastard. You clutch onto the branch tighter. There’s no way you’ll give him the satisfaction of groveling for help.

Your resolve weakens when you hear the first snap.

“Time’s ticking,” Gojo calls in a sing-song voice. “What will it be?”

The harder you hold on, the more your flimsy branch breaks.

“Come on,” Gojo says. “It’s not that hard. It’s just seven little words. Isn’t that worth your life?”

“Go fuck yourself,” you tell him, and the branch finally snaps.

Falling for the second time is just as bad as the first time. The icy wind snatches at you like claws, tearing at your clothes.

To your surprise, Gojo leaps after you. He makes free-fall look elegant - surely a far cry from whatever you’re doing.

“Just say it,” he yells, within arm’s reach. He’s so close he could snag you by the shirt and haul you to safety, but you know he won’t. Not without getting what he wants. “Would you rather die than just apologize?”

You have an answer prepared.

His eyes widen in shock when you press your palms to his cheek, pull him closer, and kiss him.

You barely have time to register the taste of him, sake and something sweet, before the reality of falling to your death rushes in again.

“Gojo, save me!”

As if his body is piloted by someone else, Gojo catches you. For him, it’s a short leap back up to the top of the clearing, where Toji has disappeared.

You climb down from his hold once you’re certain you’re safe. You never thought you’d miss the feeling of solid ground beneath your feet this much, but at the moment, you’re willing to kiss the earth.

Gojo seems much worse off. He’s frozen in shock, muttering the same refrain to himself under his breath. “Me? Bound to her? Impossible.”

“Let’s go home,” you tell him. He doesn’t seem to get it until you tug him towards the path, and then he leads the way wordlessly. .

You wake to Megumi and Tsumiki weeping over you.

“I’m alright!”

They freeze, then burst into fresh tears.

“We thought you would never wake up! Your first time using ofuda must have been too much for you,” Megumi gets out through his sobs.

You feel sore all over. You can barely recall the events of the previous night, only that you kissed-

“Finally up?”

Gojo’s tapping his foot as he waits for you to get up. He looks furious. There’s an unmistakeable tick in his jaw that spells trouble for you.

It’s too early to deal with him. You duck back under the covers.

“Oh no you don’t,” he growls out as he seizes your wrist and bodily hauls you out of your warm cocoon of blankets. “You wanted to be a god, you’re going to be a god. It’s time for some training.”

You shiver pathetically in the cold morning air. If you had known helping a stranger would lead to be harassed by a fox spirit, you would’ve never done it in the first place.

“Try harder,” Gojo says at your sixth failed attempt to turn water into wine.

“It smells alcoholic,” Megumi offers loyally.

“I am trying!” You insist.

“Harder,” Gojo snarls.

The seventh attempt doesn’t change. Gojo throws up his arms and stalks out of the shrine, declaring the need to cool his head. Tsumiki frantically trails him, not trusting him to not attempt to run away again.

Megumi tries to assure you that you’re doing well, but honestly, you need to leave too. The shrine feels too stuffy. A change of scenery will do you good. Sitting alone in the woods just behind the shrine, you try to focus. Slowly, stacks of ofuda disappear from your hands as you paste them to trees, willing them to blossom. Wilt. Do anything, anything at all.

You’re out cold when Gojo finds you.

“Divine power takes time,” he says as he prepares dinner. “Use too many talismans at once and you’ll pass out.”

You drink a spoonful of soup morosely. “How do I get stronger?”

“You’ll get stronger if you grant prayers.”

Tsumiki perks up. “One just came in!”

“I already looked at it,” Gojo says dismissively. “Not that one.”

“Everyone’s wishes deserve to be looked at,” you argue.

Gojo scoffs, “Not this one.”

“Don’t be rude! A god can’t pick and choose.”

He tosses the prayer at you.

Morimoto Rika’s request touches your heart. She’s the spirit of a nearby lake - not just any spirit, as Megumi helpfully clarifies, but another owner of a shrine. A human boy visits her waters nightly. By the light of the moonlight, she fell in love with him, but she can’t meet him because they live in two separate worlds.

And to think that you would’ve never known to help her if Gojo had continued keeping this from you.

“This sounds like the perfect job for me,” you argue.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Yokai can’t fall in love with humans.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Aren’t you bound to do as I say? Take me to her.”

Against his will, Gojo summons what’s called a ‘night fog coach’. Only operable at night, as the name suggests, it’s a tall black carriage truly made for a god. You’re just wondering how Gojo expects you to climb aboard when he effortlessly lifts you by the waist.

“You’re the one who wanted to go meet her,” he sneers. “Chop-chop.”

Your supplicant looks like a fish if it were a girl. She has pale green skin and large, black eyes, with overly large teeth for her mouth. Black hair frames a heart shaped face. She’s cute, in her own monstrous way. And she’s desperately in love with a human boy.

Gojo helps you transform her into a human body and make her over into a normal teenage girl. For a prayer granted, it feels like nothing more than dressing your friend up for a date.

You’re even as nosy as you would be in that situation. It’s the first prayer you’ve ever granted. You know you shouldn’t, but you and Gojo watch the burgeoning romance from a distance. Of course, he’s completely disapproving, but you have high hopes for them - until Rika pulls out a ring.

Aren’t they moving a little too fast?

It only gets worse when Rika confesses that she’s been stalking him - sort of. Keeping tabs on him for his safety by following him around town is a little too close to the other, for your liking. Your head drops into your hands.

But Yuta takes it surprisingly well. A little too well, in fact. It only seems to infatuate him even more. You knew there were certain types of men out there who loved crazy, but you had never seen it in real life - until now.

Could this even be counted as a success?

You’re happy for Rika and Yuta, as happy as you can be for their twisted little union, but you’re just waiting for Gojo to bite your head off for bringing a (real) monster and a human together as soon as you get back home. At least they’re happy, you think ruefully. Worse things could happen. Your first union as a marriage god didn’t fail. In fact, of all people, Yuta seemed the most likely in the world to accept Rika as she was, human or not.

To your surprise, returning to the shrine, Gojo begrudgingly says, “You did well.”

Any warm feelings you have for him the next day are replaced when he barges into your room and demands you strip.

“You have guests,” he says. “Messengers from Toji-sama, the god of the wind.”

Your eyes grow wide. You hadn’t known Toji was a god. Come to think of it, did Gojo even know the reason why you had been falling from that cliff? You weren’t sure if he had come in time to see who had pushed you.

“What are you worried about? I’ll be at your side the whole time.”

You’ll tell him later. Right now, you have a serious matter to prepare for.

You tried not to discriminate on the basis of his master, but it’s not that at all. Toji’s familiar, Naoya, is simply annoying on his own terms.

“So you’re the new god of this ramshackle little shrine,” he sniffs. “God, it’s disgusting. How poor are you?”

“You must be the thirteenth familiar Toji’s owned. He goes through you like toys, doesn’t he? Of course you wouldn’t know that he used to live in worse conditions before. Deplorable.” Gojo laughs in his face.

Naoya grits his teeth. “I’m surprised your little human dared to show her face. I thought she’d be terrified after what Toji did to her. They’re such weak little things.”

Gojo looks at the other demon with a calm that worries you. As human as he is, there are moments when you can catch the monster lurking within. He’s like the sea, deceptively calm until you remember the threat of an unseen riptide.

“If you insult my master again,” he says carefully, enunciating every word like he’s stabbing at them with a knife, “I will take your head and deliver it to your master as a present.”

“Don’t tell me you’re happy to be serving a mortal girl,” Naoya laughs. “Not someone like you, Satoru. How the mighty have fallen.”

Gojo looks at him for a long moment, then he ignores him completely and walks to your side. The most painful part of Naoya’s digs at you is knowing he’s right. Gojo doesn’t like this. How could he? He went from being the strongest to being commanded by some powerless girl. Still, Gojo gazes at you with his inscrutable eyes. You can’t read him at all.

Slowly, he sinks to his knees next to you.

With a gentleness you can hardly bear, he lays his head in your lap, as gentle and docile as a puppy. His neck is bared as if for an executioner’s axe, the delicate pulse of his heart open to you. He closes his eyes. His breath is shallow. He stays there, and says no more.

“Oh, Satoru,” Naoya says in delight. “You really have become a tamed thing.”

With an uncertainty you’re trying to hide, you lift your hands to Gojo’s head. His hair is sinfully soft. You’re almost scared he’ll try to take your hands off for it, but when you start to gently pet his hair, he almost purrs. His eyes close, half-lidded in pleasure.

“I serve who I want to serve,” Gojo says. His tail lashes behind him. “Who are you to tell me my master is unworthy?”

Naoya shrugs, clearly disbelieving. “Sure, Satoru. Keep telling yourself that. I’m just here to deliver a gift.”

He tosses you a package wrapped carefully in beautiful, ornate wrapping paper. You’re sure it’s not Toji’s doing. He’s not the type.

As soon as he leaves, Gojo pushes himself away from you. It leaves you a little sorrowful, the speed with which he tries to get away. He only did it for your sake, you know. He wanted to protect your honor in front of Naoya because you’re his master. But it must have disgusted him, to get on his knees for a human, if he recoiled so fast.

“What did he mean, what Toji did to you?” Gojo asks over dinner.

You know instantly that you’ll only draw his ire if you try to play dumb.

“Toji pushed me off that cliff the day you found me.”

Gojo’s eyes darken. The next time Naoya returns, he promises you, he’d set his tail on fire. No one besmirches his master’s honor like that.

It’s about honor, of course. You’d be a fool to think otherwise.

Alone in your chambers, you unwrap the package Naoya gave you. It’s an incense burner, beautiful and silver. As apology presents go, it’s a decent one. You set it aside for use at a later time.

Naoya’s visit only makes Gojo’s training worse, but these days, you’ve grown used to him and his harsh words. The more that he yells at you for being weak, the more you can brush it off as Gojo just being Gojo. That only irritates him more, of course.

But nothing pisses him off as much as you claiming that you’re returning to school. Gojo thinks that you have no need for school as a god. There’s nothing the humans can teach you that he can’t.

In your eyes, Gojo is a kitsune. That means he’ll never understand a teenage girl’s heart. School isn’t about learning, it’s about the experience! You’ll never be in high school again - there are so many things you still haven’t experienced, like school trips. You only have one youth - you have to seize it in the moment!

Gojo isn’t convinced.

Like an overbearing parent, he nags you all day and night until finally, you strike a deal. He’ll let you go to school, but only as long as you cover up the god-mark on your head. Gojo is never one to make things easy for you. The hat he bestows you with is an ugly grandma print with faux fox ears. You’ll be the laughingstock of the school!

“It’s dangerous,” he says. “Who knows what wild beasts will be lurking about?”

“You’re the wild beast,” you say. “I can’t wear that!”

“I guess you can’t go to school then,” he sighs. “What a pity.”

It’s all for show, of course. You know what he’s really like. There’s no use in arguing - either you agree to his compromise or you stay here, stuck in the temple for the rest of your life. You’ll miss out on all the joys of youth, never growing old in your cloistered shrine. The thought is unbearable.

You snatch the hat from him in indignation. Putting it on before you leave the next day makes you cringe, but as long as you avoid mirrors, you can almost forget that it’s there - if not for your classmates staring at you. You can feel their judging eyes everywhere you go, and the whispers.

You can’t even say you don’t care - you do care. You only have one high school life, and Gojo is ruining it. During lunch, you escape into the bathroom to mope and avoid all of your classmates.

“Are you getting bullied?” Gojo’s voice is too bright and cheery for your dark mood right now. You can’t promise to remain calm if he stays here.

“This is the girl’s bathroom, Gojo.”

“Don’t be like that. I’m just worried about my master,” he says. “Well? How is it? Do you want to go home now?”

He’s lying. You know he’s not worried about you at all, but you should be used to it. You don’t know why it stings as much as it does.

You’re hurt even though you know this is just how Gojo is. Of course he’d be happy to see you miserable - he hadn’t even wanted you for a god in the first place. He’s bound to you by obligation, and nothing more. You had known from the start that he didn’t care about you, so why does it hurt that he won’t comfort you? It’s just like those nights in the demon world that seem so long ago now. He hasn’t changed at all.

Gojo isn’t as shocked by your outburst as he is by the tears slowly welling up in your eyes. He stands stunned as you rush out of him and back into the hallway.

Tsumiki appears next to him out of thin air, completely unimpressed.

“You did a terrible job on that one, Gojo.”

As if in a daze, he lifts his hand, where the crystal of one teardrop shines. He’d tried to reach for you at the last moment, but you were already gone. “I made her cry...”

Megumi appears next to Tsumiki, his face red. “What’s taking so long? Hurry up and leave! We’re in the girl’s bathroom!”

“Gojo was bullying our master,” Tsumiki announces.

“I wasn’t bullying her!”

“He made her cry.”

Gojo winces. “Okay, yeah. I did do that.”

Megumi kicks him in the leg, which amounts to almost nothing. “Take responsibility, then!”

When you return home, Gojo is waiting by the shrine door with an almost offensively polite smile on his face. “Let me take your coat, master.”

Him being kind gives you the creeps. You can’t help but feel like he’s planning something, especially when he shows you the lavish dinner he prepared for you with all of your favorites.

“What’s with the look?” He says, annoyed at your accusing eyes peering at him over your bowl. “I do something nice for you and this is how you treat me?”

“This is really just for me? No ulterior motives?”

“None,” he promises.

The smile that breaks over your face is like the sun through rain clouds - sudden, dramatic, and almost painfully bright after a period of gray skies.

“Thanks, Gojo!”

The look in his eyes is unreadable as he reaches to spoon more food onto your plate.

You don’t have anyone else in this world. Besides the shrine spirits, Gojo might be the only person in the world who will take care of you. For some reason, the thought doesn’t sting as much as it did this morning.

The second day of school starts with pouring rain, as if it’s a direct reaction to your foul mood earlier. Gojo pulls you back when you try to leave.

“It’s a bad omen,” he says. “Stay home with me today. I’ll worry about you if you go.”

Normally, such sweet words might bring a blush to your face, but you can read between the lines.

Stay home with me today so I can keep you out of trouble, you brat.

I’ll worry about you if you go because you’re weaker than a worm.

“Stop trying to keep me from going to school! I thought we got over this yesterday,” you huff. “I’m going to be late for the bus!”

You leave Gojo with a handful of air as you dart under his outstretched arm and out the door.

In school, all your classmates are listless.

You’ve never been so unhappy to not be the subject of attention. What is wrong with everyone? Even the teacher doesn’t reprimand anyone for sleeping in class, half-asleep herself. You’re the only one who doesn’t seem to be caught in this spell of drowsiness, which insinuates paranormal origins.

As you’re sweeping the classroom after class, one of your classmates lets out a disgruntled noise.

“It’s a snake,” she says, not at all with the intonation of someone who’s just discovered a snake. Ami’s the type to go apoplectic at the sight of a fly, much less an actual snake, so you don’t pay much mind until you hear Kurama go, “Huh, she wasn’t kidding.”

There’s a little yellow snake in the classroom. In their stupor, none of your classmates seem to care all that much about it. They just continue going about their chores. You feel bad for it. It’s such a small, fragile little creature. In their state, they might accidentally end up crushing it.

With gentle murmurs of encouragement, you coax it into your hand. It’s surprisingly docile and twines itself readily around your wrist before you set it outside the window to be set free.

Gojo doesn’t praise you for your act of heroism on the behalf of his fellow yokai, as you remind him. You saved his compatriots! Where’s the gratitude?

He calls you a stupid little girl. “I don’t care about them, I care about you!”

Your face warms with embarrassment against your will even though you know he doesn’t mean it like that. Time and time again, Gojo has stressed that he will never see yokai and humans as even remotely on the same playing field, much less capable of being romantic partners.

“You’re my master,” he says. There’s your call back to reality. “Look at this mark on your wrist.”

It appears like a normal bruise to you, though you’re not sure how it could’ve happened. Your new snake friend was very gentle when he was coiled around your wrist. He must have been someone’s escaped pet. You hope he found his way back home.

Gojo’s mad. He’s enunciating every word.

“This is exactly why I have to keep such a close eye on you. That’s no ordinary bruise. That is an engagement mark. Care to explain to me how I left you alone for one second and you got yourself engaged to a divine beast?”

Your face pales. “Excuse me?”

“That snake is going to come and claim you as his bride.”

“As a bride?” Your head spins and you have to sit down. You’re too young to get married. You look up at Gojo, teary-eyed. You don’t want this.

“Stop making that face,” he snaps, pushing a hand over your face to hide it. “As if I would let that happen. The master of the Yaga shrine, my master, could never be wed to a mere snake.”

If Gojo says he won’t let it happen, you can put your faith in him. You breathe a little easier. As mean as he can be, Megumi and Tsumiki weren’t lying when they called him the best familiar. He’s the strongest and most capable person or rather, yokai, that you know. There’s not a single task you set for him that he hasn’t been able to complete.

It’s still raining when you go outside to practice your talisman making.

You find the weather quite pleasant, even though it’s a little damp. The chill in the air cuts through the muggy feeling of summer, and the raindrops cool your cheeks. When you turn your face up to the sky, you can taste ozone in the little drops that pelt your face.

“You’re very beautiful, kamisama,” says a voice.

There's a man waiting just outside the red gates. A supplicant? In this weather? You better get him inside in a hurry. You dash over to him.

“What are you doing? Come inside, you’ll get wet!”

Just as you reach him, he lifts his face. He looks like a statue, with high cheekbones, and solemn eyes. His hair is the same pale yellow as the snake you saw earlier that day-

“Gojo!”

But it’s too late.

The snake has a hold on your wrist, right above the engagement mark. He takes you away.

One moment, you’re standing in your own backyard, the next, you’re surrounded by almost-familiar bamboo walls. It looks like your shrine but for little distinguishing touches. That makes you uncomfortable.

“This is Haibara shrine,” the snake says. “I’m Nanami, the familiar of Haibara-sama. I’ve taken you away to marry you.”

There’s a curtain over the center of the room. Haibara presumably rests behind it, but something strikes you as off about the whole scenario. That’s not what’s foremost on your mind, however.

“I don’t want to marry you! You kidnapped me!”

He tilts his head at you. “I couldn’t have kidnapped you. We’re engaged, you see?” He traces the mark on your wrist with one slim finger. “We’re going to be very happy together.”

“You’re being creepy,” you push him away.

At your rejection, something dark crosses over his features - not danger, but pain. He has some nerve feeling upset when you’re the one who should be upset here!

“That’s alright,” he says, trying to stroke your hair. You won’t let him touch you. “I know it can take some getting used to. Here, let me show you to your room.”

Nanami has clearly put a lot of thought into decorating for you. It’s beautifully furnished, with rich silk sheets and the fragrant smell of plum blossoms permeating the air. Here, there’s not a single thing you could want but-

Gojo.

You miss Gojo and you miss your shrine.

When Nanami leaves you in your room, it feels like a tomb in the silence. You bury your face in your expensive, hateful sheets and try to resist the urge to sob. You want Gojo to come get you. You want to go home.

Hours pass, but Gojo doesn’t come.

Nothing but the sound of your breathing changes, passing from frantic to deeper, slower, steadier. As your head clears, you notice the window. It’s a beautifully ornate design, a red knot of luck. The center is just big enough for a girl to squeeze through, if you try hard.

Resolve grips you.

You’re not going to wait for Gojo to rescue you. You’re going to get out of here yourself, find him, and scold him for not coming to get you earlier. Aren’t you his most beloved master, as he so professes? You’re going to make him kneel for at least three hours practicing his apologies!

Filled with renewed conviction, you hoist yourself onto the window sill and begin the tedious task of shimmying yourself out. Just when you’re nearly there, the sharp edge of the metal scrapes your shin, leaving a long, thin cut.

The smell of salt replaces the plums immediately.

“God?” Comes Nanami’s voice. “I smell blood. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” You panic. If he discovers your escape attempt now, he might try to put you in a more secure room, and then you’ll really never see Gojo again.

The adjacent wall caves in.

Gojo stands in the rubble, seething, each hand wreathed in blue flame. He doesn’t even notice you, his attention wholly focused on Nanami. “You drew her blood? Are you prepared to face the consequences of hurting my master, snake?”

You grab his arm just before he attacks. “He didn’t! I hurt myself on the window- oof!”

Gojo’s so much bigger than you are. When he folds you into his arms, his entire body surrounds you. His chin tucks itself over your head, his large arms wrap around your body. You’ve never felt more secure than you are here, now. “I thought you’d be crying.”

His voice is hoarse.

You’ve never heard that before.

“You came,” you whimper, burying your face into his shoulder.

Nanami’s face is crestfallen. “Are you going to leave me?”

You grab Gojo’s arm and duck into the other room, where Haibara’s curtain is.

“Don’t!” Nanami cries.

When you pull it back, there’s nothing but an old, dusty kimono.

You were right.

This place is godless.

“You’re no familiar,” Gojo snarls, turning on Nanami. “Don’t even think to call yourself that. The difference between you and me is as clear as day, you vile beast. You’ll pay for your insolence with the loss of your shrine.”

Nanami’s misery is written all over his face. You’ve realized what’s wrong with this shrine. It’s too quiet, as if no one has prayed here for generations. Haibara has been dead for a long, long time.

Nanami must have been lonely.

“Don’t,” you tell Gojo.

He stares at you, incredulous. “Are you out of your mind?”

You tug yourself out of Gojo’s arms. Nanami’s crouched on the ground, trying to shield Haibara’s old kimono from Gojo’s foxfire. You kneel to his level.

“I’m sorry you’ve been lonely for all this time, Nanami. I can’t stay with you, but if you come to my shrine, we can play again.”

Nanami weeps and reaches for your hand. The mark of the snake dissolves.

Gojo doesn’t talk to you on the way back to the shrine.

“Don’t be mad,” you say, tugging on the sleeves of his kimono. He gives you a deadpan stare. “Come on! I only did it because-”

You can’t finish your sentence.

Of course, that piques Gojo’s interest. He can never resist bullying you.

“Because? Go on,” he goads you.

You say it so quietly he can’t hear you, even with his fox ears. He spins around, grabs you by the waist, and hoists you up so you’re face to face. You yelp and scramble to grab onto his shoulders for balance.

“Louder,” he demands. “I can’t hear you.”

“I was thinking about what would happen if I died and you were all alone again. I couldn’t leave him alone because I was thinking of you,” you tell him. Thinking of Gojo watching after an empty shrine all alone like Mizuki makes your heart ache for reasons you can’t explain.

He stiffens. “What a strange thing to worry about. I wouldn’t care.”

“Ugh,” you smack him in the shoulder. You shouldn't have tried to be kind to him.

He doesn’t put you down, shifting you into an easier hold. “You’re hurt,” he admonishes when you try to squirm.

Just before you enter the shrine gates, he has a confession of his own to make. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You got hurt because I wasn’t protecting you.”

You rub his ears, an indulgence you’re not sure he would’ve allowed if he wasn’t in such a mood. “It’s not your fault!”

“I’ve never had a human master,” he says. “I have to be careful not to break you. You’re so easily hurt.”

“You don’t have to say it like that,” you say, and then the shrine spirits are there to welcome you home.

You hadn’t realized you thought of the shrine as home until today.

Even though Nanami’s mood isn’t affecting the weather anymore, it’s still raining. Gojo tells you not to mind the weather, even though you’re certain that it’s not from natural causes, which means it is your job. Ever since you came back from Haibara’s shrine, Gojo has been extra protective of you.

You hadn’t thought Gojo had needed to be protected too, not until the thunder god came.

The god of storms and lightning is called Getou Suguru. He carries a mallet in one hand that can transform whoever it touches into their younger forms, and he used to be Gojo’s best and only friend. He’s also the one who called a bounty on your head.

#sera writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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allyeardepression · 2 months

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@jegulus-microfic | feb 20 shiver | words: 864

yeah, so, someone said they would like a part 2 to this so i wrote it. i don’t know if it’s any good but here it is, hope y’all like it (also sorry for all the mistakes, english still isn’t my first language)

next part 👀

“He just stayed over for dinner, Sirius. It was a ‘thank you’ for helping me with Gigi” James repeated for what felt like a hundredth time.

“Oh, I know your ‘thank yous’. Don’t try to fool me, I haven’t met you yesterday” Sirius laughed through the phone. James was surprised his best friend didn’t get mad at him for spending the evening with said friend’s brother.

He was expecting the man to throw a tantrum about it, that’s why he called Moony and asked for Sirius as soon as Regulus left his flat with the dog.

“You know, it’s kind of your fault. Why would you leave your phone to your brother? If you hadn’t done that nothing would have happened!”

“So, something did happen?” James heard the cheeky smile even though he couldn't see it and simply groaned at the response he received. Sirius could be his best friend, who James loved dearly, but he could also piss him off like nobody else.

“Don’t change the subject, just- why did he have your phone? I really was terrified with the whole situation and as if it wasn’t enough I almost got a heart attack because you really didn’t have your phone and I didn’t know who got my address, and if they wouldn’t ki-“

“Okay, James, breathe” he heard from the other side. He did just that. “Now, stop spiralling. He had my phone, because I left it there on my way to the venue. He was fucking with you, you know how he is” Sirius explained calmly and James felt a little better. But then “While we’re on the topic of fucking-“

“I’m hanging up” his bestie just barked a laugh at that.

“Yeah, Reggie’s here anyways, I have to pester him now. Bye, love ya” and with that Sirius ended the call.

James breathed heavily and slumped into the couch. Excluding the Gigi incident, the evening was really nice - he and Regulus prepared the butter chicken together (using tofu instead of chicken since Reg doesn’t eat meat). They laughed at what the vet said about them not being good uncles to the dog and talked about their lives. James knew from Sirius that Regulus went to art school but still listened eagerly as the younger man talked about his latest project.

“You should come to the opening. I think you’ll like it” Regulus said midway through his dish. He also smirked when James started choking on his rice. After a moment he calmed down, whipping his face with a napkin.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll try to make it. When is it exactly?” he asked, pretending like nothing happened just seconds ago. Regulus laughed at him, sounding so very sweet again, and James tried to hide the small smile and blush that appeared on his face.

“Next Friday at 8” the black-haired man replied simply, going back to his meal. He looked so soft and peaceful sitting at the table, the older man felt a need to squish him tightly, because what the fuck - how can someone look so pretty?

With James’ internal crisis and Regulus’ quiet chewing they fell into a comfortable silence. It was new to James - usually, while eating with his parents and friends, it was very loud, everyone talking and laughing all the time. But it was nice - to just sit and enjoy a dinner together.

When they were finished Regulus took Gigi and said he’ll drop her off at Sirius’. James just thanked him again, walking the other man down the hall. When Regulus was out, he turned over his shoulder and smiled warmly.

“See you next Friday” he said and walked to the elevator. James didn’t even have a chance to reply as the younger man disappeared behind the metal door.

He took another deep breath and went to his bathroom, taking a quick shower and preparing to go to sleep. He was halfway through his skincare routine when his phone beeped. As always, he didn’t bother checking it while he’s having his alone time, but as soon as he laid his head on the pillow he opened the unread message.

Unknown

Sirius is fucking mad

Whatever he says to you - do NOT believe him

He’s delusional, I swear

It’s Regulus, by the way

James felt a pleasant shiver going down his spine. Regulus didn’t ask for his numer, but apparently took it from Sirius’ phone. Sneaky little thing he was.

James

didnt expect you to be not only a murderer but also a thief

and i know your brothers mad ive known him half my life

Reg

I’m not a thief, I’m THE thief

If I managed to steal your number maybe I’ll be able to steal some of your time ;)))

THAT MESSAGE WAS FILLED WITH SARCASM

James laughed at that.

James

yeah sure

you can steal as much of my time as you want

THAT MESSAGE WAS ABSOLUTELY NOT FILLED WITH SARCASM

The reply didn’t come right away. He could see the three dots appearing and disappearing every now and then, though. And when it finally came, James just smiled at it.

Reg

You’re being cheesy, please don’t act like that at the opening

#jegulus #starchaser #dead gay wizards #james potter #james x regulus #regulus black #jegulus microfic #marauders #the marauders

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seventhcallisto · 9 days

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A PROMISE IS A SWEAR ! giom — chpt. 1

Synopsis. Matz gains a new district and a new member. The same member who trails a bunny to the den and introduces the beginning of obsession for the leaders.

Warnings. Violence. Physical harm. Und3rag3 tattooing. Teenagers(that needs it's own tw). Gang symbols. cigarett3 b3rn. Harm. And emotional harm and arguing. Please read giom masterlist before continuing.

Tuesday.

Positively, you were furious. After a not so nice call from a local man you know —your neighbor to be exact— you were mumbling up a storm. Excusing yourself through the last hour of your job just so you could catch a certain someone in the act.

With your work uniform on and a scowl on your face. Hiking up a hill through a run-down alleyway full of creeps and illegal activities. You finally caught sight of the person you'd been there to catch.

"Get off of me!" You snatched the teenager up by his arm, pinching him through his hoodie. "Jihoon, if you don't walk your skinny ass legs down this hill, I'll drag you," you stomped your heel clad foot, whisper yelling at the young man.

Jihoon was always causing problems, so threatening him like this was most likely not going to get him to listen. His face shriveled up. "You're not my mom!" He hissed back, equally furious - most likely due to the fact you had just pulled him from his group of boyfriends. Right in the middle of selling a pair of off branded shoes- and as soon as they saw you - pretended nothing was going on.

Irritation, through a false guise of shock, littered their faces as you tore and prodded the younger man away from his group of mis fit friends.

"Lee Jihoon," you whisper yelled to him this time, turning his body towards you. You take on the anger in his eyes with a frustrated scowl to clash. "Go and tell your friends you'll see them later, We're going home."

His face was turning red from embarrassment. But he knew you wouldn't back down, especially how stubborn he knows you to be. He smacked your palm off his jacket, huffing out a breath of air and turning towards the group he's with.

Within a few more seconds, he was storming past you. Hunched and full of anger as he made his way out of the entrance of the alleyway.

"Do you understand what you're doing, jihoon? It's illegal!" His footsteps rang loud on the wood of the apartment, ignoring your words- hardly bothering to take off his shoes at the entrance.

Before you could get out another frantic sentence out, he was turning his entire body your way, a snarl to his lips that resembled a dog. "What does it matter!? You're never home anyway! The cops can't pin shit on me-"

"Watch your mouth!" You yelled back, eyes widening. "I'm never home cause I am working! Don't you get that? These nice things you have- the school you go to! I have to pay for all of it somehow!" You gestured to his bedroom, posters and nick nacks littered about. "If I don't work, you can't have these things," your eyebrows furrowed. It was always so frustrating talking to him- with the exact copy of his mother's attitude.

He scoffed, "Whatever" he walked away from you, closing his door with a harsh slam.

These little outbursts would burn and simmer, like the crust on a volcano.

You stepped outside- to have a moment to yourself. Calming down from such a heightened situation- it wasn't good for you to let it bubble. But with jihoon- raising him, it was hard.

The silence of the evening gave you some peace of mind. And despite the situation of your day. You were beginning to feel relaxed, listening to the crickets and the distant sound of cars- cats- and the occasional dog barking.

"Tough day?" Changbin beckoned your attention, his large arms crossed over the balcony, you glanced to your door, having realized he heard everything.

"Yes- well, tough to my standards anyway." You laughed lightly, sighing. Changbin tilted his head at you, taking a long drag of his cigarette. "If it helps.. I know a lot of guys who went through this rebellious phase." he gestured to your apartment door, seemingly talking about jihoon. "They usually outgrow it, yknow, teenagers always act out. I know, I sure did."

You chortle at that. Palming your head as you looked out over the city, finally, you turned to meet changbins eyes, his presence having grown closer, right next to you on the railing. Comfortably, you sat with him for a second longer. "You? Rebellious?" You grinned. The fun- gentle man next to you, the one you've known for at least four years. And still have yet to properly get to know each other.

He laughed, his face scrunching. "What? Do I not seem rebellious enough?" He nudged your shoulder with his elbow, pouting. You laughed again. "No, no, I just wasn't expecting that, considering you're a -" You stopped short, remembering what jihoon had said earlier, you cleared your throat in the silence. He finished for you, glancing out to the city as well. "A cop?"

He leaned back over the railing with a sigh, nodding his head. "I heard that too. He's a bit cocky, considering he lives next to one." Changbin murmured. You shook your head, embarrassed on behalf of the teenager under your care. "I'm sorry-" "don't be. I gave my mom a hard time, too. He'll learn." The man shrugged off your apology, another drag of his cigarette, before he dabbed it out, fiddling with the end.

"But I'm not his mom. He has a reason to give me a hard time." You sighed heavily, letting the words flow before you cut them off, biting your lip. Changbin noticed, he's a keen man, a detailed man, it was a part of his job. He shook his head, twisting his body towards you.

Before he could come up with a sentence, you smiled gently. "Thanks for calling me, I hate when he does that" you groaned, remembering how upsetting it was to witness the young man attempt to brute force his way into getting another schoolmate to buy the pair of shoes they laid out.

Whatever jihoon had been doing wasn't legal. And you knew- you know. So, of course, changbin would know too - he was a cop after all, a detective to be exact, it was his job to notice these things. "Maybe a little juvie would do him some good," you sighed, a poor attempt at a joke- yet changbin still laughed heartily.

"If you need someone to scare the piss outta him, let me know, I've got a few people in mind." Changbin pocketed the end of his cigarette, bumping your elbow with his just as he left.

Wednesday. Always full of woe.

The downpour of rain filtered out the chatter of the company hongjoong was kept in. Barked laughter and forced smiles as the people around him conversed. The only person to take any interest in it was on his right. Seonghwa could make up excuses for the lack of attention his partner was providing. But the grin on the peak of hongjoongs cupids bow was driving Hwa wild with curiosity.

"What has you so happy?" The taller of the two murmured under his breath, his companion heard it - and with a clear of his throat, peaked over his glasses to the dark-haired man. "I'll tell you later"

Seonghwa sighed, bringing his glass of champagne to his lips. "Later couldn't come sooner," he replied with a sigh.

Hongjoong was in a better mood than he had been any other time of the week, with the stress that comes with a business- especially as big as this one- he could finally catch a breath of fresh air.

With one long sigh, the car door finally snapped shut, with seonghwa sitting right beside him.

"Where to?" Jongho, the leaders trusted men (and occasional driver) asked as he glanced through the rear view mirror, his brown hair framing his eyes. Hongjoongs smile perked up, seonghwa had noticed. "You know where jongho" hongjoong waved his question off with a smile, shrugging into his large fur coat.

Seonghwas attention turned back to the blonde seated next to him. "So? Where to?" Seonghwa copied jongho, questioning the shorter- yet beaming man. Hongjoong shifted in his seat, his grin faltering when his tongue poked his cheek. "You'll see." hongjoong kept the secret, seonghwa could argue– but it was typical of the younger to be so secretive sometimes.

Once the sleek black car had rolled to a stop. The evening had set, and finally, the moon was beginning to cast its beams across the streets. Seonghwa took notice of the passing buildings. Unease, unsure of the surroundings- matz hadn't stepped this far out of their comfort zone in a while unless there was a meeting. So the rural area, compared to the city, was a stark contrast to his scenery setting.

Practically bouncing out of his seat, hongjoong ushered seonghwa out of his own as soon as the fur covered man swung open his door. Of course- he was happy about something. And seonghwa was beginning to have a clue.

His eyebrow tilted up at the bubbly, shade wearing man- contrasting against seonghwa who was dressed in the best suit for the earlier occasion. He pocketed his hands, watching hongjoong with curious eyes.

In his right, hongjoong spun with the proudest grin on his face. Gesturing to the open area, a park, where seonghwa had recalled only ever passing by once- back when they were meeting with another acquaintance. Hongjoong beckoned the older man over, lacing his hands over a railing, with one other foot on the steps. He stood proudly over the peering hill, a grin still prominent on his face.

Ah. That's what it was. "You could have just told me," seonghwa mentioned with a sigh, running his hand over his hair and fixing any loose threads. Joong chuckled, "it wouldn't be special that way" he sighed, leaning on the railing- childishly, unable to sit still. Seonghwa laughed airily. "I suppose so, considering it's a wide district." Seonghwa murmured, taking his spot next to the blonde.

Hongjoong shifted his body towards the taller, still looking out over the railing at the quiet below. "It's ours now." Hongjoong whispered, almost unable to believe it himself- crime wasn't easy in this area, the cops were strict, which ended up with tight attitudes and unwilling participants.

But finally, hongjoong found a willing distributor, and he seemed permanent for the time being- until he could be replaced.

"I've got a few of them out here already, watching." Hongjoong gestures to four distinct areas, seonghwa perched his arms on the rail. Glittery lights catching every which way. He turned his attention back to the ecstatic man. "And who's watching them?" He hummed.

There was hardly any trust for the underlings, not to say they weren't loyal to the cause, just that they were easily swayed and amateurs, so of course, seonghwa had to ask.

"Mingi"

Seonghwa took in a hiss of breath, the most loyal of all- a little clumsy though. Hongjoong could sense seonghwas thought. "This one is his. He practically begged for it." Joong sniffled a laugh, recalling the plead of the other member. "He said he could take care of it."

There was a silence for a moment before seonghwa spoke up.

"Do you trust him?" He asked. Hongjoong tilted his head, sliding his glasses to lay on the top of his head. He turned his face towards seonghwa for the first time during their conversation, and nodded.

"I trust you, don't I?" Hongjoong answered.

Thursday.

The following day was just as bad as you thought. Things may seem easier the next morning. But jihoon had still ignored you, even as you prepared him a breakfast along with his fresh uniform. A scowl on his pouty- still childish face. It made you want to turn in and wave the white flag.

So, when you sit at the empty kitchen table, staring at the packaged food –that had been coldly left behind– and reminiscing on how you could hardly get the same treatment from your parents growing up, do you begin to feel the ache of missing your best friend.

You couldn't dwell on it. Not when you had work.

Jihoon is as difficult as his mother. Purgatory thoughts playing in your mind over and over. Although your best friend Lia wasn't shy from being mean - borderline - a bully, she was still loyal and caring, and she loved jihoon. She would have had the best lines to say and tell; to convince him to get his act straight. But she wasn't here. And as his godmother, you had the responsibility to play mommy.

You really wished she was here. She'd know how to take care of these things. You've always been the softer one in the duo.

It's past 12, and you have an early shift tomorrow. You sit at the kitchen table, dazed and daydreaming as you wait. When you think over what could be happening, bile rises in your stomach. Jihoon hasn't returned home, and his phone is apparently off. He has been gone for hours. More so than usual.

What can you even do?

The front door is quietly unlocked in the silence.

You spring from the kitchen chair, watching the door be pushed in, followed by a hooded figure who doesn't bother to flicker on any of the lights.

Your hands are spinning him around the next second, although jihoon is taller than you- the veracity of your movement tugs him to face you.

You pull the hood down next, glaring his bruised face in-between broken orbs and clenched teeth, looking at the fresh cuts along his lip and nose. "Where have you been?" You say, as calmly as you can muster. Jihoons shoulders fall. "Out," he mustered, shrugging his shoulder past you to pull off his jacket.

You pull him back by his upper arm before he can go any farther. He winces but makes no move to push you off. His head is tilted towards the floor, and his breathing is labored - tired from whatever activity he had just gotten up to.

"Jihoon, your mom wouldn't want this -" his hand snakes out of your grasp as if you burnt him. "What did you just say?" He scoffs, clicking his tongue. You don't falter. "Yo-" "No, no, you don't get to do that. You don't get to use that against me cause I don't even know what she was like." You go to cut him off. "You know that's not true-"

His foot meets the stool as he kicks it frustrated, a silent curse coming from his mouth.

"I don't know if anything you say is true, I don't even know if you're really someone she'd leave me with to take care of. It's all just bullshit anyway, right?" His snarky tone wavers, his throat pinching close the longer he stays on this subject.

"I'm going to bed" he brushes you off once more when you attempt to reach out.

And you have the same lump in your throat. You don't know what to say yourself. You don't know how to fix this. You don't know what you're doing.

Friday.

Halfway through your shift, do you get another dreadful call- voice-mail this time, since you can't answer your phone during school hours. On the other end is changbin- but this time, he's just dropping information off for you.

"Hey y/n, I'm sorry to be telling you this, but -" he takes a heavy sigh, "one of my colleagues told me about seeing a kid similar to jihoon.. coming from this new operation we're in the middle of. It's a big nightclub - full of colors - hell, you can see it from a mile away, so just ask around. It just got up and running, we - don't tell anyone I said this - but we're looking at charges if he happens to be caught in there. It's not safe for him. that's all. Call me when you get this- we can go together. Do not go on your own. I'll talk to you later."

The end of Friday is full of dread. The streets are full of characters for the night. Fools and drunks and corner girls and the occasional normal group of friends, no matter who it is- you ask.

"The club full of bright lights?"

A man finally repeats your question. He's not entirely sober, nor is he blackout either. He points over his shoulder, giving lazy directions. But as you go, you thank him. Changbin was right. You couldn't miss it from a mile now that you were in a neighboring alleyway- heaving from having run everywhere to find this place.

The front is guarded with men in jackets, smoking cigarettes, and scaring the stragglers who stare a little longer than they should.

You power through, attempting to blend in with a crowd of rowdy girls who are easily let in- You're stopped by the collar of your shirt, pulled out of it and faced to face with a scarred man, eyeing you up and down.

"Are you trying to sneak in? Hey, why didn't you just ask to be let in? What kind of shit are ya trying to pull?" His heavy palm smacks your cheek, pat pat, your skin reverbs from the tiny hits- its a slap to your pride in a way. You scowl at the stranger.

"Theres someone in there I need to get" you defend yourself, pushing the man off your collar. His snarky grin drops into a scowl, the cigarette dangling from the corner of his lip dangerously. "I'm not buying that princess." The man flicks the ash your way, glancing to the other man on the door.

Your appearance is a contrast to everyone else. Your in your best dress for parent-teacher day, having cut it short to find jihoon. You stick out like a sore thumb. Fuck. You're really not getting past this guy.

You had to do something.

"He's underage! He's a kid, a kid shouldnt be in there- If I can't go in and get him- I'm gonna call the cops!" You're making a scene now- you're panicking, you have no idea if jihoon is okay, no idea whether or not he's doing drugs or getting himself hurt.

You're scared for him. But the glance in both of the men's eyes is your top worry. Threats about the cops coming around seems to gather attention, onlookers glancing your way and beginning to crowd the front door. "Cops?" The first man laughs, snatching your arm up with an icy grip that has you hissing in pain. "Are you threatening us? Ma'am, that's not proper. We're running a business here." His tone is attempting to be lighthearted, but the danger behind his grip and smile is driving the breath out of your lungs.

You're dragged inside by the same guy, the lights, the music- everything screams danger with this situation, not only that but the faces- the troubled people around here is nothing safe. You catch glimpses of people snorting different color substances off each table, tiny shiny and distinct pills littered around. Smoke and the burning smell of cigarettes- and something else, something heavy and damp, funky smelling. Earthy. You body makes contact with the door to a room and you're pushed into it abruptly.

Your feet stumble forward towards the middle of the room, where you finally find your balance. Cards are placed on a wide and round glass table and this place smells the worse of the earthy smoke, it clings to every surface, making you cough. When you do, the man in the center of the red velvet couch in front of you peaks up over his glasses.

His hair is white- silver almost, long enough to tuck behind his ears. He gestures with a ringed finger to the man with you to speak.

"She's threatening to talk to the cops."

"She a regular?"

"No, never seen her around here before"

The silver haired man takes a heavy sigh,, he parts from the woman and men around him to meet you face to face. He's tall- intimidating. His height is no joke. He scans you up and down with dark eyes. Emotions you can't grasp on his features.

Whoever the people are, they aren't bothering to look your way, quiet and head down. Sheep's amongst a wolf. He's obviously in charge here. "Look- I don't know who you are but you have kids in here- this isn't a place they should be-"

The flicker of a lighter sounds through the quiet room. The sound of music muffled behind the door gaurded by the man and another. You watch the silver haired stranger take a drag of a cigarette after flipping his lighter closed, the red pulse of light igniting in front of you, it silences you quickly.

"Listen." He starts with a hum, nodding his head as the smoke hits your face, he takes your hand in his, gently patting his large, calloused fingers over yours. You hesitate to let him have it, unsure of his motive. "I understand your concern, but we don't have kids here sweetheart, we don't allow that. Youth is important to our future, right? Isn't that what everyone thinks?" He glances around shortly, switching out the hand holding the cigarette to cage your palm in-between. You can feel the heat of it, see the ash starting to form at the top.

"That's not true." You whisper. His eyes squint. "You calling me a liar?" He murmurs, stepping closer.

"I'm calling bullshit" you hold your head high.

It's silent. Air so tense and thick, you can't tell if it's the smoke or the feeling lingering in your chest. But this man, he's not safe. None of this is. And you're really testing your luck here. "I need-" you start again. But the sudden burn of specks on the back of your hand makes you whimper in pain, attempting to draw back your limb from the man.

He holds it tightly in his, flicking ash onto the back of it, the sting makes you hiss, before he brings the cigarette back to his full lips, your fingers pale from the force.

He takes a drag, blowing it in your face once again.

"I don't like being called a liar." He pouts into his words, dusting the ash across your skin with his thumb, a warning at most. But it stings slightly when he flips your palm over to examine the lines.

"You come in here and threaten my place, I've only been nice to you this entire time." He holds his free hand over his heart. "What do you want exactly, sweetheart?" He squints down at you. The nickname makes your stomach lurch uncomfortably.

"I told the guy at the front. There's someone in here i need-" "and who is that someone?" You go quiet, squinting up your nose at him. He stares back for the next seconds. One.. two.. three-

There's the stinging burn to your palm, it aches and you screech in pain. Attempting to bring your hand back from the heat. A cigarette that is searing into the soft skin in the middle of your palm. You wail at it, a pain so uncomfortable you forgot it even felt real. The ash darkens when he puts it out. Smearing it across your palm. His eyes are unlike what you've seen, no remorse or mercy, just evil.

"I'm not going to ask again. Giving me attitude when I've been sweet-" "i-im not please-" you beg, anything to stop the pain and sting on your palm, to get the man before you to stop before he does something else, something worse. "Shh, quiet, I'm talking." he pats his palm over the open wound. You whimper once more, tears welling in your eyes. It hurts.

Before his lips fall open again. The door behind you swings open.

It's the other man from the front door. Followed by.. a few individuals, you can hardly see with the blur in your eyes.

"Raeun?" The second man to walk through questions. He's taller- his body adorned in what seems to be the closest thing to a suit. A pair of glasses and short- almost buzzcut black and blonde hair. Raeun- the man who grips your palm looses his grip, and you pull it as quickly as you can to your chest.

"Mingi" he huffs. "Come to join so soon?" He laughs, glancing to you. The man, from towards the entrance does the same. "Yeah, Came as soon as I got the go ahead" mingi replies plainly, walking further into the room. "Leave" he gestures to the people across the couch.

An array of limbs and people pass you, but- when you turn to leave, you're stopped by him. "You, stay." Mingi swings his finger out to call you over to him. Gesturing to the couch.

You really don't know what's going on. But mingi is gentle as he grabs your palm, glancing for approval- you don't respond.

"Seonghwa said no more burns, whats this then?" Mingi tilts the wound towards raeun. The same man scoffs. "She said she was gonna call the cops." "And you think this was gonna stop her?" Mingi groans, letting your hand go. You cradle it back to your chest, watching the tall man step up to raeun.

"Get your shit and go, you're out" mingi turns on his heel, stepping back out of the silver man's way to let him leave. Raeun scoffs loudly, "you can't kick me out of here, I made this place what it is-"

"Yeah and where did that lead you?" Mingi waves his hand out to the club. Raeuns face drops even further into anger. "Fuck- is this about her? We can just pay the bitch off-"

"Raeun" mingi hisses his name. The tension could be cut with a knife and you try everything to make yourself smaller in it. "Get. Out." Mingi points to the door.

Raeuns fit seems to cease, a smile creeping up his skinny features. "Oh, you got the position didn't you? The captain finally gave you something huh?" Raeun laughs loudly, holding his stomach that pokes out of a silky cheetah print shirt.

"Which means you're out." Mingi confirms. "Go." He says once more, it's a threat, the tone speaks for itself. Raeun doesn't bother once more, kicking the door open on his way out.

Your heart drops when the door slams shut behind him. Your labored breath calming to accommodate the quiet in the room. Mingi heaves a heavy sigh, taking a seat on the far side of the couch. His hand rakes through his messy hair, parting the spikes to docile them down. With a single hand in his hair and another reaching out for a glass- presumably full of whiskey, mingi finally glances your way.

You're a shaking aching mess, it doesn't take a genius to notice you're not for this lifestyle. You're dressed like a librarian in the midst of a nightclub for fuck's sake. Your palm is clutched tightly, as if you're attempting to squeeze the pain away. Your eyebrows are knitted and you're curled into yourself. Lost in thought.

"What are you doing here?" Mingi breaks the silence. You jump, turning your head his way.

"I'm looking for someone." You quietly answer. Mingi nods, lifting the whiskey to his lips. "Who?" He asks before he takes a gulp of the alcohol. "A boy, his- he goes by jihoon, he's five-eight- probably taller now- i - we haven't checked in a bit, he's got messy an-and curly black hair- it, well.. he hasn't let me trim it in a while and-" your rambles encourages a bubble in your throat, a sob beginning to form.

You could have gotten hurt worse, you still can, you could die here, you could be trafficked, mingi seems capable of it if he was able to test someone like raeun. And now the only thoughts in your mind are how you wish jihoon hadn't been mad, how you wish he could know you love him- in case you do happen to die, or end up missing. How the last thing you did with him was argue.

Your throat closes in when an image of the younger version of the boy shows up in your minds eye. The sob breaks out "he's just a kid, he's all i got- I'm all he's got, I don't want him here, please" you beg, for his sake, more than yours- mingi is so quiet, his aura is scary, he's not like anyone you've ever met before.

"Hey," he calls softly, your face twisting to see his. His eyes have caved, soft and understanding, his eyebrows furrowing. "I'm going to go get your boy, and you're not coming back. You hear me?"

Mingi makes his statement clear just as he gets up to leave.

The breath lodged in your throat exits as you nod. The dull ache of your hand plays at the back of your mind - finally, you'll be able to see jihoon, and you'll both leave.

You'll leave. Together.

There's no windows in this room. There is no light besides the TV in the corner. It flickers with a show you don't know, a familiar actor beating down on multiple men. Your eyes are blurry - and you wonder if you happen to have a first aid kit at home, possibly - if you haven't used all of the content on jihoon from his many fights and bruises. It feels like an eternity while you wait, hoping for light in the darkness.

You hope jihoons okay.

Your hope is answered when the door once again swings open. Mingi is holding jihoon by the scruff of his neck, pushing him into the room, but he sidesteps out of the way to let someone else in.

The cast of the club lights create a halo around the man, the beads of the entrance jingle when he steps inside, like crystals, the light bounces off every inch of the glass beads, illuminating the man in the fur coat from behind.

His hair is a vibrant blue, His nose has a define point, his lips are naturally plump- He's pretty. Which is a surprise. And you thought Raeun was the boss. No.. it's this man. With his cream colored fur coat and his tight leather jeans, a buckle with a silver star to top it off and a sheer black and white top. His shoes are leather, reptilian in design. A pair of dark glasses slotted against his forehead when he pushed them up. Your eyes meet.

It's dangerous. He's dangerous. Everything screaming. This is the type of man you'd see on TV, draped in luxurious brands and with a snarky attitude to come with it, a past- and scars along his figure, fuck- this guy is no good. He's a snake in man's skin. A wolf in sheep's clothing. And you can tell.

"Mingi" his eyes never stray from yours, as if stalking prey, his voice is light and inviting. Mingi glances his way, then yours with a silent response to the man "captain." He pushes jihoon forward and drags the hilt of his shirt up. You stand- to protest, to tell them don't touch him.

But the ink along jihoons skin is a sign of surprise. Of fear to your racing heart.

"Your boy here," the captain pats the young boy on his shoulder, jihoon grimaces, head down turned. "Has our symbol, he has the mark of ateez, and that means he won't be leaving anytime soon."

The lines of an 'A' are sharp, a circle to encase it, it spans almost the entirety of jihoons left pec. It's fresh ink. your stomach churns and twists. You think you're going to be sick.

"Jihoon is one of ours now." He finishes, clicking his tongue.

"Jihoon?" You quietly call. For him to say it's a joke, a sick one- but his face remains the same. Furrowed and ashamed.

Tears well up in your eyes once again. You've failed - failed as a guardian and failed your best friend. You failed the little boy you were given, and you've failed his father and future.

"Please. Please- okay- he's a child- he's only fourteen!" You plead with the man, slipping to your knees, desperate as you are- you're willing to do anything to prevent jihoon from throwing away his future.

The captains' fingers hold a coin- something you haven't seen before then. The men peer back at you in the dark of the room. "I-" "the ink is already there." He nudges jihoons left side, the boy groans in pain, most definitely sore.

"There's no changing that," he nods towards you, flicking the younger boy's cheek. His eyes are demeaning when he stares down at your figure. This all seems like a joke to him. With one final glance to your shaking body, the vibrant haired man turns away towards the door.

"Please. I'll do anything." You beg.

His steps falter. The coin makes contact with the metal of his rings as he plays with it. It dings every so often, like a clock in the silence over and over.

Clink, clink, clink, clink- ...

"Don't make promises you can't keep." You can hear the perk to the man's voice, a smile through his tone. "I can keep it." You confirm without another beat, gulping back your tongue.

"I can keep my promises."

"I swear on my heart."

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hazbinfallinginaspiral · 8 days

Note

hey! saw you had a post asking for requests and I had an idea.

can you please write a Vox x Reader thing where Vox is feeling insecure due to either Alastor or Valentino and reader comforts him & reassures him that he's good enough? maybe with cuddles at the end?

thank you! love your writing so much btw :)

- someone who is also an intense Vox simp

Upgrades (Insecure!Vox x Reader)

Thank you! I had a lot of fun with this one, I hope you enjoy it! I had an idea and kinda ran with it, so it may be a bit different than expected. Feel free to request again, especially if this wasn’t what you were looking for!

It’s all about image.

Vox is a loud, confident man. Everyone knows that much. He’s outgoing, social, charismatic.. He’s not afraid to stifle a rumor at a moments notice. He has no qualms about taking out the trash when necessary- and in business, it was often necessary.

“-is nothing working?”

“ignore his chirping!”

Business is all about image. It comes with its pros and cons, its rises and falls. A little risk is a natural part of it. You've got to have some skin in the game if you want to win. Business was all about the ups and downs. Sometimes it seemed as though it was an endless path down, to Vox

“Everyday he's got a new format!”

Vox is a man of change. Keeping up with the latest trends and slang. He’s not afraid to make sacrifices- it’s all apart of business, after all. He’s always looking for a new upgrade.

“You’re all bark and no bite, Voxy… just another lap dog, aren’t you?”

Vox is loud— attention seeking

Vox takes risk— he’s got nothing to lose

Vox is a man of change— eager to please the masses

Vox is… insecure

It’s all about image.

When Vox summoned me to his office, I hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to expect. As his assistant, I had grown accustomed to his mood swings and occasional bouts of self-doubt, but something about this felt different, more intense.

The tension in the air was palpable as I made my way down the dimly lit corridor toward Vox’s office. I could sense his unease from the moment I entered the room, his usual air of confidence replaced by an aura of vulnerability.

“Vox?” I asked, stepping into his office. I gently closed the door behind me and walked over to him.

“Ah! There you are, darling,” Vox said, spinning around in his chair to face me. He wore a wide grin, cables stretched from all around the room to the back of his head. “I need your help with a few upgrades. Hand me that tablet, would you?”

“Vox,” I began softly, crossing the room to stand beside him. I gave him the tablet but didn’t leave. “Are you alright?”

“I, uh..” Vox faltered for a moment. His normally vibrant eyes were dull with self-doubt, and I could see the weight of his insecurities pressing down on him like a heavy burden. He took the tablet, his expression a mask of determination as he worked on those ‘upgrades’. But the tension in his shoulders and the furrow in his brow betrayed the turmoil brewing beneath the surface.

"I've been thinking," Vox began, his voice hesitant. "About what they said. About me being too eager to please, too willing to change myself for others."

My heart sank at the vulnerability in his voice, the raw emotion that he rarely showed to anyone. It was a side of Vox that few were privileged to see, and it filled me with a sense of urgency to help him.

"I understand why you might feel that way, Vox," I said softly, moving closer to him. "But you don't need to change who you are to please others. You're perfect just the way you are."

My heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, the weight of his insecurities threatening to crush him. “Vox, you’re perfect just the way you are,” I said again, trying to get it through to him, my voice firm with conviction. “You don’t need to change for anyone else.”

He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “You don’t understand,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I thought if I could just get rid of these flaws, these annoying feelings, I’d be better. But I don’t know… I just- I need some upgrades, and I’ll be right as rain!”

I reached out to him, gently tilting his chin up to meet my gaze. “Vox, you don’t need to change who you are to please others,” I insisted, my voice unwavering. “You’re already perfect in my eyes.”

For a moment, Vox seemed to waver, his eyes searching mine for reassurance. And then, with a soft sigh, he leaned into my touch, his walls crumbling in the face of my unwavering support.

He looked up at me, his eyes searching mine for reassurance. "Do you really believe that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, reaching out to take his hand in mine. "I do, Vox. You're brilliant, talented, and incredibly charismatic. You tell the best jokes, you have always have shark facts! I love you shark facts. You don't need to change a single thing about yourself."

For a moment, Vox seemed lost in thought, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. But then, with a shaky exhale, he leaned into my touch, his shoulders relaxing as he allowed himself to be vulnerable.

"I just... I don't want to be seen as weak," he admitted, his voice barely audible.

"You're not weak, Vox," I assured him, squeezing his hand gently. "You're strong, resilient, and capable of so much more than you give yourself credit for. And I'll be here to support you every step of the way."

With those words, a small smile tugged at the corners of Vox's lips. And in that moment, as we sat together in the quiet comfort of his office, I saw him cry for the first time. "I'm sorry," he whispered, wiping away his tears, his voice barely audible. "I just... I don't know… I’m sorry..."

I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close in a comforting embrace. "It's okay," I murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Just know that I'm here for you, no matter what. I love you.”

And as we sat there together, enveloped in the warmth of each other's embrace, I knew that no amount of insecurities could ever change the depth of my love for Vox. I held him close, rubbing his back. I gave him soft kisses and whispered reassurances, keeping my arms wrapped around him all the same. I wanted him to know that I loved him, flaws and all.

“Thank you, I…. I needed that. Thank you,” Vox mumbled, his face buried against me. He held me tighter. “I love you too.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #hazbin hotel fanfiction #vox fanfiction #vox x reader #x reader #my writing #writing #hurt/comfort #sort of #ao3 writer #asks open #i take requests

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dincrypt · 2 months

Text

Dad and The Dog

Summary: This.

Content: Fluff. Puppy antics.

Note: Re posting my most popular fic since I’ve decided to emerge from hibernation lol

“If it pisses on my floor once, it's gone.”

A tiny gasp escaped the mouth of your son, his already enormous eyes stretching with concern. You round on Din, bringing a protective hand over the mouth of Grogu’s pod.

“Din,” you chastise, not at all gentle. “Don’t say that! She’s a puppy, accidents are bound to happen!”

From behind your hand, a fuzzy white head popped out, panting so hard it looked like a smile, and barked in Din’s direction. Grogu gave a little cry and tugged his new pet back into the safety of the pod.

Your family was heading back to your ship after an eventful and productive trip to the market, all of you - except for one - ecstatic with the results.

“It’s going to get big you know,” Din pointed out, not even turning around as he stalked forward.

“The man said she’s an Anooba cross. She’ll be smaller than normal,” you countered, reaching back to rub a pair of perky white ears. Grogu grabbed handfuls of her fur protectively as he eyed Din, face somewhere between an adorable attempt at intimidation and a downright pout.

You could hear Din grumbling under his breath, pressing a control on his vambrace as you approached the ship. “Sure, crossed with a Massiff for all we know…”

You ignored him to help Grogu and his new puppy climb out of the pod. Two sets of miniature feet took off up the ramp. She immediately set about exploring her new home, nose to the floor as she ran in a zigzag, tiny owner right on her heels.

“Hey, keep that thing contained,” Din snapped as he followed them, pressing a button to close the hatch.

You sighed and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” you tried softly, hoping to diffuse the frustration clearly boiling under that armor. “Why are you being like that? I thought you liked dogs?”

“I do,” he argued. “Just not in a small space full of important things that can be chewed or peed on.”

“I’m sure your five crates of sonic charges can handle a little puppy teeth,” you said with an eye roll.

Din tilted his head, and years of reading a blank visor told you of his exasperation. You smiled and reached up to pull his helmet off, revealing the long suffering frown you expected. Setting it aside, you placed soft hands on his cheeks, running your thumbs back and forth.

“Come on. He needs this. Didn’t you just say a while back it would be nice for him to have someone his own size to play with?” As you spoke, a chorus of barks and delighted coos rang in the background.

Din’s shoulders drooped and his brows furrowed. “Yes! But I meant…” he gestured between the two of you, “I meant a sibling.”

“Well, think of this as like…a stepping stone to that. First he gets a puppy. Then a sibling.”

“Why the hell does there need-“

A loud crash cut him off, and he spun around to see Grogu and his pup sprawled on the floor, the contents of Din’s tool box scattered around them. The puppy clambered to her feet and pounced on Grogu, lavishing his face with wet kisses which he accepted in pure delight. Din frowned deeply and turned back to you.

“Why does there need to be a stepping stone? I don’t see how a puppy will prepare him for a sibling.”

With a gentle sigh and shake of your head, you leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “It makes him happy. Isn’t that enough?”

You didn’t wait for a response, instead tapping his face gently with your palm before leaving to help Grogu pick up his mess. Din watched you, confusion and frustration etched into his scowl. The puppy bounced around your feet as you bent to gather the tools, giving each one an experimental gnaw.

With the smallest sneer and the slightest huff, Din retreated to the cockpit for what he expected to be his last ounce of peace for a very, very long time.

Code Red. Code. Kriffing. Red.

Or, technically, code yellow.

Grogu was hysterical. Sucking in enormous breaths faster than his little lungs could handle, cries piercing through the hull as he pointed at the puddle that managed to be directly next to the absorbing pads. You were on your knees in front of him, desperately trying to reach through the panic.

“Hey, hey, calm down baby it's alright.” You held his face and wiped the little tears away. He continued to sniffle. “Look at me.” You held him more firmly, eyes on his. “Daddy didn’t mean what he said, ok? He’s not going to take your puppy. I promise.”

That managed to break through, barely. With another deep breath, his cries lessened.

“And even if he did - which he didn’t - all we’d have to do is this…” You reached for the absorbing pad and placed it over the mess, promptly wiping away every ounce of evidence. “See? He’d never even know.” You smiled and winked playfully.

Grogu stared blankly at the pad, then looked at you, mouth turning up in an adorable grin. You laughed and looked around for the offender, who had ducked into hiding the moment her owner started to cry.

“Verd’ika?” You called. The choice of a Mandoa name was not coincidental. Though you suspected the attempt of endearing her to Din had accomplished very little.

She appeared hesitantly from behind a cargo box, puffy tail between her legs, back spines laid flat. You gave her a sympathetic, yet stern look.

“Verd’ika, you know what you did, don’t you?”

She scurried over to Grogu, burying her face in his cloak and refusing to look at you. Grogu hugged her, not contributing at all to your attempt at discipline. With a defeated sigh, you gathered up the soiled pads and tossed them in the incinerator.

“I suppose you’re beating yourself up enough already.” You bent down and stroked her head. Then looked at Grogu. “Go get the cleaner sweetheart. Let’s make sure the floor is nice and clean before daddy gets home.”

He nodded urgently and waddled off, his ever-present white shadow following.

Clan Djarin’s newest edition managed to have multiple accidents throughout the day. No matter how many treats you placed on the pads, no matter how highly you praised and encouraged every time she sniffed them, something about cold metal apparently made it the ideal location for relief. The floor was scrubbed spotless by the time Din returned.

He removed his helmet with narrowed eyes, carbonite chamber still humming with the acquisition of his newest bounty. You appeared from the bunk, all smiles.

“Welcome back dear, how’d it go?”

“Fine...” he answered slowly, eyeing the floor.

You swept yourself into his arms and kissed him, hoping to redirect that concerning gaze. He kissed you back, absently, and you could tell his eyes were open, still fixed on the floor. You put your hands around his neck and kissed him a little harder.

Unfortunately, it only served to make him more suspicious. He pulled away from you with a frown.

“It peed on the floor didn’t it?”

“It’s a she,” you corrected.

“She peed on the floor.”

“I have no idea what you-“

You were spared the completion of your lie by Grogu’s entrance. He waddled to his dad with outstretched arms, smiling. Din bent down to accept him, throwing an uncertain glare at his snow colored companion.

“Hey buddy,” Din said softly as he lifted his kid. Verd’ika pawed at his boot. “Anything exciting happen today?”

Grogu drew his lips in and shook his head. Din glanced between both of you, brows raised in an expression of innocence and wonder. “Really? Nothing at all?”

Two heads shook in confirmation. Din looked down at his feet. “How about you?” He said to Verd’ika, “Anything to confess?”

Verd’ika barked once, front paws sliding forward as her rump lifted in the air, tail whirring. “Is that so?” Din looked to you in mock surprise. “She says she peed on the floor today.”

You gasped and snatched the puppy up, holding her out in front of you with an accusatory glare. “Verd’ika, how could you? Lying to your father that way!” You turned her around in your arms to face Din. “Tell him the truth Verd’ika, tell him what a good girl you’ve been.”

She barked once more, squirming as she craned her neck back to nip at your chin.

“That’s better. See Din?”

Disbelief dripped from his features. Thankfully, instead of pushing the argument, he just rolled his eyes and brushed past you on his way to the cockpit, Grogu still in his arms.

Before he could take another step, Grogu let out a cry of protest, reaching behind him for Verd’ika. Din sighed and turned around, bringing him close enough to scoop the puppy from your arms.

You watched with an unabashed grin as your riduur clambered up the ladder, arms full of squirming dog and child.

Nights on the ship were peaceful.

Rather, the artificially timed darkness designed to preserve some semblance of a circadian rhythm while deep in hyperspace, was peaceful.

Din was a light sleeper, and still not used to extended lengths of inactivity, even with the balance you brought to his life. It wasn’t unusual to find him missing from your bed throughout the night, fiddling with whatever mundane task he picked up in an attempt to quiet his mind.

After waking up for a second time to find him gone, you decided to go looking for him. When the usual tinkering couldn’t do the trick, more often than not your voice could, a few sweet words of encouragement lulling him back into bed.

The cockpit was the first place you checked. He found something soothing in the gentle, repetitive nature of flying the ship, even when it wasn’t necessary. Sometimes it was all he needed to relax enough to allow him to sleep. Other times, he needed you.

You found him there, unsurprisingly. As you crested the ladder you caught sight of his head above the pilots seat, brown locks messy with unsuccessful sleep, shoulders moving with what little effort flying through clear space required.

What did surprise you, was the white ball of fur at his feet, staring up at him.

Din was speaking. Quietly. You stayed on the ladder, tilting your head to hear him better.

“I’m not giving you any,” he grumbled, and with a glance to the side you realized he was talking about the package of jerky pieces he was snacking on. “Quit asking.”

Verd’ika let out a small whine, reaching forward to paw his socked foot. Din looked down at her. “What? I said no.”

She didn’t let up. Her head creeped forward, eyes on Din’s face. Her lips quivered with a barely muted bark.

“Ssh!” He snapped, finger to his lips. “They’re sleeping.”

You covered your mouth to contain the laugh bubbling in your chest. For someone who claimed to not be interested in this dog, he sure was having quite the conversation with her.

“Alright, look, here,” He retrieved a piece of jerky and tossed it in her direction. Verd’ika snatched it right out of the air, swallowing it whole.

“Hey…” Din said, tone just on the edge of impressed. “Good job.”

She licked her lips and tossed her head up. He shook his head. “Now you’re just pushing it.”

She insisted, once again batting at his feet with a string of quiet whines. Din growled and grabbed the package. “Fine, but you’re gonna have to work for it. I don’t suppose they’ve actually been training you, have they?” He held a piece of jerky up above her head. “Sit.”

She cocked her head at him, ears pricked, and slapped her tongue across her jowls. Din sighed.

“Didn’t think so.” He scooted forward in the pilots chair, setting the package aside but still holding a piece in front of her. He reached forward to place his other hand on her back, at the base of her tail. “Look Verd’ika, sit.”

He pushed her rump down to the floor as he said the word, her eyes still glued to the jerky. “Good girl!” He gave her the meat and she scarfed it greedily, immediately standing back up.

“No, you’re not supposed to-“ he started, reaching for another piece. “Alright come here, lets try again…”

With a grin, you turned and headed back down the ladder before he saw you.

You woke up to the sound of Din loudly calling your name.

“Come here! Bring Grogu!”

Your knee-jerk, sleep soaked reaction was panic. Only when he called you again and you heard the laughter in his voice were you able to calm down, slipping out of bed with a groan. You found Grogu in a similar state, groggy eyed as he rolled out of bed at the sound of his father’s voice. You picked him up and headed for the cockpit just as Din called you for a third time.

“We’re coming!” You answered, trying to keep the irritation from your voice.

Your steps were heavy up the ladder as sounds of barking and a few low chuckles reached your ears. In the cockpit, you found Din standing with Verd’ika in front of him, a handful of jerky in his palm as she watched him with rapt attention. He smiled at you as you entered.

“Watch this,” he said excitedly, holding up a treat. Verd’ika stood at attention.

“Sit!”

Immediately, her behind sunk to the floor. Din glanced at you, looked pleased at your impressed smile, then turned back to the puppy.

“Lay.”

Her paws slid the rest of the way down until her belly touched the floor.

“Good girl!” He tossed her the treat, which she inhaled.

“Did you see that buddy?” Din asked his wide-eyed boy. Grogu smiled with a happy sounding gurgle. Din walked over and took him from your arms, Verd’ika barely a step behind. “She’s pretty clever huh?”

You nodded your agreement, watching as Din placed a treat into Grogu’s palm. “You wanna try? Give it to her when-“

The second the meat touched his hand, Grogu tossed it to Verd’ika. Din stuttered half a movement at grabbing it, stopping short as it disappeared into a set of sharp white fangs, gone. He dropped his head before turning to Grogu.

“No buddy, after she listens, ok?”

Two dark eyes stared blankly at him, blinking once. Din held up another treat. “You hold it. I’ll tell her what to do. When she listens, give it to her. Ok?” He hesitantly placed the meat into Grogu’s waiting palm.

This time, he held it. Din nodded and looked to Verd’ika. “Sit.”

She sat. Grogu dropped the meat and it promptly disappeared.

“There you go! Good job buddy!” He bent down to pat the puppy’s head, “Good girl Verd’ika!”

You laughed delightedly and squeezed his shoulder. “Glad you two are finally getting along.”

Din shrugged nonchalantly, not quite meeting your eye. “Well...she’s finally listening.”

“Suuuure,” you droned, reaching down to pick her up. “And I’m sure her being completely adorable has nothing to do with it, right?” You held her out in presentation, and Verd’ika cocked her head as she looked at Din, as though attempting to contribute to your point.

He rolled his eyes and fought a smile, then tugged you forward to place a kiss on your forehead. “Well,” he leaned down to kiss Grogu as well, “I suppose it’s no secret I have a weakness for adorable things.”

The grocery bag was heavier than the last time you slung it over your shoulder.

Your eyes narrowed as you adjusted the strap, immediately knowing who the culprit was. Or rather, culprits.

You turned around in the middle of the dusty market street, eyeing your riduur and son, who stopped short behind you. Any time they came along on shopping trips, they had a habit of ganging up on you, flooding your limited carrying space with useless treats. That’s why you were the only one who got to carry the grocery bag anymore.

At the sight of your glare, Din tilted his helmet in question.

“What did you two sneak in here?” You asked, jostling the strap over your shoulder. Grogu’s mouth dropped and he looked to his father.

“Nothing,” Din said easily.

“Its heavier than it was a few minutes ago.”

“Aww, then I’ll carry it for you cyare,” he reached for the bag but you took a step back.

“No no, I’m simply giving you a chance to come clean before I open it up and find out.”

Din exchanged a look with Grogu, then shrugged at you. You gave them a final warning glare before peering down into the bulging sack at your side. In it, a top your own selections of spices and balanced ration meals, sat two sleeves of cookies and three packages of jerky. You looked back up to see Din peering over, as if he too was curious of the contents.

“Huh.”

“Huh indeed,” you droned, pure sarcasm. “Wonder where those came from.” Din’s helmet rumbled with a low chuckle and you smiled. “That’s a lot of jerky. I don’t think Verd’ika can eat it all.”

“It’s for me,” Din said immediately.

You dropped your head incredulously. “Really? Three packages just for you?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re not gonna give any to her?”

He shrugged. “Well, maybe if she’s good. But it's not for her.”

You made sure he could see every ounce of disbelief on your face before turning and leading the way back home.

He never did admit it. Just as you never admitted to waking up that night and hearing him in the cockpit, voice scarcely above a whisper through the faint sounds of a crinkling bag,

“Verd’ika. Look what I got you.”

Week five of life with a puppy came, and there was hair on your bed. Short, white, unmistakably canine, and only on Din’s side. You stared at it, smirk growing at the same time your eyes narrowed. You called for Din and he poked his head into your quarters.

“What’s this?” You asked sweetly, gesturing to the fur scattered on the sheets.

He peered at it suspiciously. “What’s what?”

“This dog hair. Did you have Verd’ika on our bed?”

“No,” he said quickly. A little too quickly.

You placed your hands on your hips. You didn’t mind if she slept in the bed with you, not at all. But the fact that he was being sneaky about it and clearly trying to hide it, made teasing him simply irresistible. “Really? Then how did it get here? Only on your side?”

He shrugged. “She must have snuck up there at some point.”

“Ah. Well then,” you took a step toward the door, “I suppose I should get on to her.”

“No!” He stopped you with a firm hand on your shoulder. You gave him a look of utter bafflement and he retracted, cheeks flushing pink. “I mean...it’s too late now. You have to catch them in the act. She won’t understand.”

“Ah...I see...” you nodded as though the thought was very wise. “In that case I’ll just keep a better eye on her then.”

He returned your nod, just as serious but no more convincing. “Good. Me too.”

You didn’t.

The hair returned most mornings. No matter how many times you settled Verd’ika next to Grogu in his bed, there was almost always a fresh batch of fur waiting for you. It was always less than that first time, and you recognized the signs of an unsuccessful attempt at brushing it away. The stubborn stragglers were his downfall.

Rather than confront him again, you decided to let it slide. He wasn’t going to come clean any time soon.

After several months of living with a Verd’ika and a Din who insisted his tolerance of her was minimal, he dropped a shocking statement over dinner one night.

“I was thinking I might start some extra training with Verd’ika.”

You froze. Eyebrows raised, fork halfway in your mouth. You lowered it slowly to answer him. “What kind of training?”

Grogu had also perked up at the mention of his pet’s name, long ears pointed in Din’s direction. Below the table, a shuffle of paws told you Verd’ika had heard it too.

Din swallowed a mouthful of soup, then spoke nonchalant as ever, “Thought she may have the potential to be a good guard dog. For when I’m gone. It’d be nice to know there’s someone looking after you two.”

Your grin was determined, but you smothered it down, cheeks aching and pulling. It had taken barely any time for Din to go from “one accident and she’s gone” to, “I would like to leave those I love most in the care of this creature.” The thought was nearly too much for your heart to bear.

“It’s a good idea love, but do you think she’ll be big enough?”

He nodded. “Anooba’s get big. And I don’t buy what that vendor said for a second. He probably just heard me complain that we wouldn’t have room.” As he spoke, he tore off a piece of his bread and slowly lowered it beneath the table. You heard the smacking of lips below, followed by the reappearance of his empty hand.

Grogu, ever the imitator, did the same. A set of four eager paws skittered over your feet on their way to the little green hand holding out bread under the table.

“Keep that up and she’s going to be too fat to guard anything,” you laughed, even as you tore off a piece of your own bread for her.

Din scowled in offense. “Of course not. She’ll just build muscle.” He tilted his head to look under the table. “Isn’t that right Verd’ika?”

A muffled, bread-filled bark answered him in confirmation.

When you were little, you had been certain that a litter of loth cats someone had dropped off outside your home were the most adorable thing you had ever, and would ever, see. Six little bundles of multicolored fur, mewling and crying until you had warmed and fed each one. They held the top spot on your cute rank for years.

Then you met Din. Six foot with his helmet on, covered in armor, who hunted down criminals for a living. He immediately over took the loth kittens in terms of adorable. Next you met your son, and the two had been neck and neck ever since.

But this. This took the cake. Nothing in the universe would ever be cuter. You’d stake your life on it.

Din was on his knees, in the middle of a field on some grass planet you couldn’t remember the name of. His arm was wrapped up in one of his shirts, encouraging a confused Verd’ika to bite him while Grogu stood to the side, treats at the ready. Late afternoon breeze whipped through the fur of all three, white, brown, and sparse.

“Come on sweetheart, just like last time,” Din cooed. “Edeemir!” Bite.

Verd’ika dropped down on her front paws and tossed her butt in the air, tail whipping. Din sighed and shook his head with a smile.

“Your name is little warrior. Act like it.”

He started at her, arm jerking forward in a mock attack. Verd’ika barked in delight and lunged, chomping down on his padded forearm with all the force her little jaws held.

“Good girl!” Din praised loudly. On cue, Grogu stepped forward with a treat. “That’s a clever girl, good job sweetheart!” He petted her back and scratched behind her ears as Grogu babbled his own sounds of praise, stumbling forward to pet his puppy.

You shook your head with a laugh. At this rate, your only worry was that Verd’ika would begin biting people randomly in anticipation of her treat and praise parade.

“Are you sure that’s the best method dear?” You asked.

Din looked up at you with a bright smile, still petting Verd’ika. “Of course.”

“I’m just worried she’s going to start biting and thinking she’ll be rewarded for it.”

He shook his head. “No no, she’s learning to bite on command. She’ll only be rewarded if she does it when told.”

You grimaced uncertainly. “Alright, if you say so…”

They practiced and played until the sun fell low in the sky. With the short attention span of both younglings, it didn’t take long for anything resembling training to fade into games of fetch and chase.

Eventually you found yourself darting through thick grass, Verd’ika at your side. Behind you, Grogu held onto Din’s back as they gave chase, strong arms reaching out as they ran. You laughed and screamed as his fingertips brushed you, pushing harder with a dodge to the left. Verd’ika contributed by running as close to your feet as possible, jumping up to snap your clothes at every opportunity.

Inevitably, he caught you. Your run came to an abrupt halt in his vice like grip, a strong chest at your back as you screamed in the happiest way. Din pulled all three of you onto the grass in a heap of limbs and laughter. Grogu crawled up to Din’s chest, holding his arms out for Verd’ika as she launched into the fray. Din huffed and groaned dramatically as her heavy paws pounded onto his chest.

As your laughter faded into uneven breaths, one of your hands reached up to pet Verd’ika, the other sneaking into Din’s hair. He rolled his head to the side and looked at you, face framed by deep green blades, smile the brightest you’d ever seen it, dimpled cheeks flushed with exertion. Above you, your son clung to his puppy, smiling at his parents.

The sunset warming your body was ice compared to the warmth sprouting from your heart.

You stayed awake a little longer that night, hoping to finally catch visual proof of what you already knew was happening once you drifted off to sleep. After kissing Din goodnight, you turned with your back to him, waiting a few minutes before intentionally letting your breaths deepen and slow.

You expected him to get up, and return with her. Instead you were surprised when, after several long minutes of anticipation, you heard a faint scratch at the door, followed by it sliding open. There were foot taps on metal, then a dip in the mattress. Din murmured a greeting and you covered your mouth with your hand to contain a laugh.

She was trained alright. Like clockwork.

Slowly, hoping to catch him unawares, you turned. In the darkness you could make out Din’s back, a pair of snow white ears perking behind his shoulder.

You reached over carefully until your hand brushed his spine. Din inhaled sharply and stiffened. Caught. With a smile, you closed the distance between you, bringing your chest against him as your hand slipped around his ribcage to pet Verd’ika’s soft head.

“Softie,” you whispered in his ear. You kissed his cheek and felt him smile.

“Me?” He mumbled in a sleep-tainted voice, “Never.”

You grinned and kissed him again just as the door slid open for a second time. You looked up to see Grogu in the threshold, no doubt in search of his missing puppy. With a wave, you beckoned him over.

Din leaned across Verd’ika to lift Grogu on the bed, then rolled to face you, bringing both babies with him. Sheets shuffled as you scooted back to give them room, Grogu settling next to Din as he held onto Verd’ika, her soft back curling against your stomach. Four sets of slow breath filled the air, quiet and content.

Din’s eyes met yours across the pillows, warmth and love etched across the face you adored, his hand traveling back and forth between his son and his dog before finally settling on his riduur.

You both reached across the narrow space that separated you, holding onto each other, your universe safe and sleeping in the warmth of your embrace.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction

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droopycoquette · 1 year

Text

Taken Care Of 3 || Peter Ballard x Reader

<Part 2

Summary: You want to repay Peter for all the things he’s done for you

Warnings: dom!peter, ddlg themes, smut, spanking, fem!reader, dark!peter, oral(m. receiving), praise kink

Word Count: 4.3k

|*|

Peter.

That’s all you could think about. His words, scent, and touch clouded your mind, making it so you couldn’t think. He continued to leave the house and cater to your every need.

“I’m going to get supplies darling.”

“We need more food, I’ll be back in a little while.”

“You need more clothes, my love.”

You wanted for nothing with him, he always knew what you needed before you even realized that you needed it. Your skin tingled with his touch, his tongue doing wonders to your body, your nerves constantly on fire. He did everything for you.

What was keeping him from leaving you? What could you do for him?

You couldn’t do anything, you were practically helpless without him, not knowing a thing about the world. Not knowing how to handle a neighbor saying hello or a dog barking outside. Peter was the only thing keeping you afloat in the world, the only person you trusted.

And yet, even though you wanted desperately to be somewhat helpful to Peter you couldn’t help but cringe at the sound of the door being knocked on.

“Hello? Is anyone home,” the voice called.

You could tell that it was a male, several of them.

“We know you’re in there, we just want to talk,” he continued.

You wanted to curl in on yourself, to feel Peter wrap his arms around you and tell you everything was going to be alright. You tried to control your breathing but found yourself suffocating, the shirt you were wearing beginning to feel tight. The weight of the world was heavy on your shoulders as your head raced in a panic.

“Please go away,” you called back weakly, knowing that they wouldn’t hear you.

The knocking continued to get louder and louder, more aggressive. You were taken back to when you were at the lab, the guards beating on your door to get you up in the morning. The white walls and smell of disinfectant, the constant click-clacking of heeled nurses walking on tile so clean that you could see your reflection in it. The needles that poked at your inner elbow every day, the loud buzzing of tasers, and the soft, mean sound of papa’s voice. Peter could have left you there. But he didn’t.

Stop being useless and do something for once.

“I’m coming,” you called softly, before cautiously walking to the door.

You couldn’t stop shaking, your need for Peter showing more and more as you inched your way to the door. Every day reinforced your dependence on him. How could he go out there and not die from fear? You couldn’t even answer the door without trembling.

“Yes,” you said meekly trying to look them in the eyes but failing.

“Hello ma’am,” one said.

You glanced at them quickly noting their matching green jackets and intimidating auras.

“Did you need something,” you whispered.

“What,” one asked not hearing you. “Lady, are you alright?”

“Andy shut up,” the blond one said sharply making you jump slightly. “Ma’am we’re looking for this kid. Have you seen him?”

He held up a picture of an unruly-looking kid with long hair and a crooked smile. He looked harmless.

“I’m afraid I haven’t,” you got out. “I’m sorry.”

You began to close the door and back away, seeing as you had answered their question. You felt a slight twinge of confidence enter your system at the successful socialization before a hand blocked you from closing the door.

Something was wrong, this wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

“Sorry, but um,” the blond one chuckled, trying to come off as harmless. “See, this kid has done some really bad things.”

You saw nothing more than a threat in them. What were they still doing here? Are they like the guards? Would Peter be mad if they died? You didn’t want Peter mad at you.

“He killed someone, ya know,” he continued trying to push himself into the house.

Would Peter be mad if you didn’t kill them? Who were they to Peter? WHAT IF THEY’RE FROM THE…

“Hey!”

All you’re heads snapped to the sound of the voice, a car now there.

“What are you doing?”

Peter.

You sighed internally.

“Sorry sir, we’re just asking this young lady if she’s seen, someone. We didn’t mean to bother her.”

You opened your mouth to object but closed it, scared of arguing.

“Really,” Peter mocked, getting out of the car and making powerful strides toward you, anger displayed on his features.

“Yeah, man. No need to worry,” the one with the hat said.

“Why don’t you go and ask someone else about your missing person,” Peter seethed, continuing to look at the blond one.

“Hey, why don’t you mind your own business,” the one with the hat stated pushing Peter on the chest.

You felt a low buzz of electricity enter your system, anger, and fear overloading your brain. Your breathing was becoming sporadic not knowing what to do, just knowing that Peter could be hurt. You didn’t want him to get hurt.

Peter snapped his eyes to you before shaking his head and signaling you to stop.

“Take your posse and leave. We don’t want any trouble,” he growled still paying no mind to the one that pushed him, focusing all his attention on the blond, angering Andy.

“Andy,” the blonde one shouted making him freeze. “They didn’t do anything, let’s go. We’re awfully sorry ma’am.”

He paused to look at you.

“Sir,” he acknowledged Peter before walking away, hiding a snake hiss in his eyes.

|*|

“Why did you open the door,” Peter asked, a soft glare on his features. “You know the rules and yet you disobeyed me.”

You felt the seam of the sofa dig into the back of your thigh as you chewed on the flaky skin from your lips in embarrassment.

“I just wanted to,” you started softly.

“Oh, you wanted to,” he mocked. “Tell me what did you want to do?”

You looked down, realizing that you couldn’t argue you’re point, your fingers began to pick at the skin near your cuticle, the dry skin catching on the sharp of your fingernail. Your tear ducts burned with unspilled tears and your lungs suffocated you, as you tried to regulate your breathing.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered. “I’m really sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Peter seethed above you, a vein popping at his temple. You heard him pop his neck and sigh, realizing that you did the exact opposite of what you wanted. You had stressed him out even more, making yourself a nuisance.

“I didn-,” you began.

“Stop talking,” he growled, his tone clipped and chilled.

He had never used that tone with you before, only with two and three when they bullied you.

“I don’t have the energy to punish you,” he sighed, rubbing his temple. “Just go to our room and stay there while I make dinner.”

You wanted to speak up yet didn’t want to stress him out more, so you trudged to your shared room with your head hung low. The floor felt sharp on your feet as the cold seeped into your bones through your socks, bringing goosebumps to your skin. You could hear Peter sighing, then his footsteps walking towards the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered to yourself, knowing that he wouldn’t hear you.

You continued to your bedroom and plopped down on the bed. The bed, which was usually a source of comfort, only brought more negative thoughts as you clamored under the covers. The hurt you felt continued to grow, leaving you emotionally exhausted. Your limbs felt heavy against the soft bedding and your eyelids began to droop. You could feel the sleepiness wrap around your eyes, as the world started to become dark.

“Fuck!”

You jumped, heart beating faster at the noise. Your hands tremored at the scare as you blinked the sleep from your eyes. Your feet moved before you could think, rushing to the sound of the noise. Peter. You could hear your feet hitting the floor in small pitter patters. You knew how Peter felt about you running in the house but you couldn’t help it, the sound of his distress making you panic.

“Peter,” you called out as you reached the kitchen, slightly sliding in the socks you wore as you came to an abrupt stop.

“I’m fine, dear,” Peter strained, holding his finger over the sink under running water.

You could see the blood sprinkled in the water as it ran down the drain. You watched as his blonde curls fell over his eyes while he watched his cut finger bleed. Your heart yearned for him to look at you with love as he did the night before. The vein that was previously there was gone, replaced with a frustrated furrow of his brow.

“Let me help,” you said softly.

“No,” Peter started with a small shake of his head. “Go back to ou-”

“Please let me help,” you whimpered cutting him off.

You played with your fingers and found yourself trying to look at Peter in his eyes, failing every time.

“I want to prove that I can be useful.”

With a small step, you gently grabbed ahold of his cut hand and led him to the bathroom. Peter relished the feel of your hands on him, even if he was mad at you. He smiled as he heard the soft sound of your clothed feet on the cold hardwood floors. His heart warmed at the look on your face, desperate to please him and make up for your mistake.

“Sit,” you commanded softly, motioning for him to sit on the toilet.

“Yes ma’am,” he grinned, following your instructions.

You ran back to the kitchen in a hurry, as if Peter’s life was on the line. The cold was forgotten as you rushed to find the first aid kit under the sink. You smiled softly to yourself at the thought of Peter being happy with you again, being proud of you.

Praising you.

Your thighs clenched at the thought of his sweet words. Memories ran through your head as you gathered the things you needed to nurse Peter’s cut.

“Is everything alright,” Peter called, growing tired of waiting.

“Yes,” you called back rushing to finally be done.

You gathered everything in your arms and rushed back to the bathroom, kicking yourself for spacing out when Peter needed you.

“Someone took her time,” Peter joked, hands itching to grab you and hold you close.

“Sorry, Peter. I-” you paused. “-couldn’t find the first aid kit.”

Peter hummed in acknowledgment before going silent and allowing you to work. You kneeled before him to inspect the wound, holding the cut close to your face. The cut was small but deep, which was why it kept bleeding.

“How did you cut yourself so bad,” you questioned, worry etched on your face as you looked up at him.

“Well, I wasn’t paying attention,” Peter smiled.

“Oh,” you said softly, returning your focus to the bleeding finger. “I’ll clean up all the blood and-”

Peter zoned out as you continued to talk, no doubt trying to make up for your mistake, not knowing that Peter had already forgiven you. The real reason he wasn’t paying attention was that he was annoyed with himself. How could he have let you stay home alone for so long?

“My love,” he began, cutting you off.

“Yes,” you replied, smiling up at him softly as you finished bandaging his finger.

The sight of you between his legs, smiling at him on your knees had him adjusting himself and spreading his legs to ease the strain against his pants. He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, while you looked up at him confused, with one hand on his and the other on his knee.

“I’m sorry,” he continued. “I am angry that you opened the door for strangers, knowing that you shouldn’t.”

You shrunk into yourself, looking down ashamed.

“I’m really sorry, Peter,” you whispered, your voice barely there.

“I know, dear. However, like said, I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have left you alone for so long-”

“Peter, no,” you started. “You do all these things for me and all I do is sit around and do nothing. I’m powerful and I can hurt people too and yet I ca-.”

“I’d never want you to do that, it’s my job to take care of you,” Peter elaborated, cutting you off and placing his hands on your cheeks. “Come here.”

He moved you to his lap and bit his lip at the friction you provided. The thin pants you were wearing didn’t do much, the texture of your underwear rubbing against his thigh.

“But I want to take care of you too,” you whispered, looking down at your fingers.

“What,” Peter smiled softly, leaning his ear into you.

“I want to take care of you too,” you repeated into his ear.

Your cuteness made Peter chuckle. Your wide eyes showing your sincerity as you fiddled with your fingers was a sight that made Peter’s cheeks turn maroon.

“You want to take care of me,” Peter laughed, his blond curls bouncing in delight.

“Yes,” you whimpered. “What’s so funny about that.”

Your heart had dropped the moment Peter began to laugh.

“No, my love, I’m not laughing at you. Don’t pout at me.”

You didn’t stop pouting, in fact, you were closer to tears than you were dry eyes.

“I promise I’m not laughing at you,” Peter continued, calming down. “You’re just so cute.”

You stayed silent.

Peter took your silence as you not believing him and brought his hands to your waist.

“Stand up,” he commanded.

You did as he said silently, looking down in embarrassment, slightly cringing and feeling the cold floor on your feet.

“Look at me,” he commanded once more.

With a sigh you brought your eyes to him, fighting against the urge to look down again. Peter’s hands found the back of your thighs and began to rub them gently.

“You want to take care of me,” he questioned once more.

You nodded again, bringing your gaze back down to the floor.

“Ah-ah,” Peter tutted. “Look at me.”

Your eyes stuttered as you tried to look at him once more, feeling your feet shift in place, the weight of Peter’s gaze heavy. Peter couldn’t help but swoon at your dilemma, he knew of your upbringing in the lab and how hard it was for you to look at people. However, he couldn’t care less. He needed your eyes on him. There was something about having your eyes on him, knowing of the things he’s done, and still being able to have your soft, loving gaze on him. Wanting him.

“There we go,” he praised, once you finally looked at him. “So pretty.”

You fought hard not to look back down, the compliment melting your insides and making your heart beat faster. Your hands shook as you brought them to Peter’s firm shoulders to stabilize yourself.

“Come with me,” Peter stood suddenly, grabbing your hands off his shoulders and placing kisses on both of them.

You followed behind him dutifully, walking to your shared room. Peter finally dropped your hands and began to unbutton his shirt, facing away from you. You couldn’t do anything but stand there, waiting for his instructions. Feeling a now familiar rush enter your veins and find a home in your brain, the same thrill you got when Peter first put his tongue on you. Your chest began to rise and fall quicker and quicker, thickly swallowing, and shifting where you stood.

“Sit on the bed,” he instructed, turning around and running his hands through his hair.

You were quick to listen and obey, rushing to the bed and sitting dutifully. You looked up at him expectedly.

“Aren’t you an eager little thing,” he chuckled softly, making his way to you slowly.

You shivered as he took his time to walk over to you, feeling his warmth as he stood in between your legs. You looked up at him as he weaved his fingers into your hair, softly tugging at the strands, careful not to hurt you. He looked down at you with love and admiration, a sharp contrast to how he looked at you earlier.

“Kiss me,” Peter commanded, leaning down to meet your lips.

You connected your lips and brought your hands to his waist, feeling his milky skin against yours. Peter moaned at the feeling of your icy fingertips on his bare waist, fingers tightening around your hair as he reacted to your touch. Your tongues danced around each other, slipping and rolling, saliva rolling down your chin and dripping onto your lap. The lack of oxygen had your stomach spinning, making you try to pull your head away for air. But Peter refused to give you a break, following where your head went and pulling you closer to him.

He moved to straddle you, placing his knees on either side of your hips. His chest now coming into contact with yours, feeling your hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt.

“Don’t,” he paused to kiss you again, hands caging your face. “Pull away from me.”

He kissed you once more as if he was a kid in a pool coming up for air before.

“You wanted to take care of me, so you will.”

His chest rose and fell with yours. The tidal wave in your stomach was jump-started as your nipples rubbed together with his, causing him to grind into you.

“Fuck,” he whimpered against you, before nipping at your bottom lip.

He continued to straddle you as he caught his breath, hands still caging your face, forcing you to look him in the eyes. His eyes searched yours, loving the feel of them on him. He got up slowly, moving to lay against the pillows, the same position you were in when he tasted you.

“Come here,” he demanded, still out of breath.

His curls fell over his eyes while his cheeks were a rosy shade of pink, his lips coated in saliva, not knowing if it was yours or his. He watched as you crawled over to him, straddling him as he had done you. You felt the fabric of his jeans rub against your core, making you subconsciously grind against his thigh.

“Look at you,” he smiled, his hands finding your waist. “Humping my leg like a dog. I thought you wanted to take care of me.”

“I’m sorry,” you frowned, hips stilling at his words.

You fought against the urge to grind once more as you gazed at his figure. His milky skin was littered with scratches some from you and some from the guards at the lab, his curls fell perfectly onto the pillows that surrounded him, his pupils dilated as he looked at you with a predatory glare.

“Take my pants off,” he instructed firmly, looking at you through hooded eyes.

Silently and nervously, you slid down to allow yourself to take off his belt and unbutton his pants. Peter watched you fervently, feeling every twitch of your fingers, watching as your brows furrowed in concentration. Your desire to please him leaking onto your face. Your fingers fiddled with his belt, latching onto the leather and slowly dragging it out of the loopholes.

“There you go,” Peter breathed, hand mindlessly toying with his curls.

You held your breath as you unbuttoned his pants slowly, making sure not to mess up. You could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move with anticipation. You didn’t want to disappoint him, not after everything he’s done for you. As you pulled at his pants your thighs rubbed together, finding a little friction on your clit before yelping at Peter’s hand on your ass.

“Stop that,” he commanded. “I thought tonight was about me? I don’t want to have to keep reminding you, my love.”

“I’m sorry, Peter. I won’t do it again,” you frowned, internally beating yourself up.

The look on your face only made Peter harder, he was only teasing but the fact that you had taken it seriously showed your dedication. His chest rose and fell quicker, his lip finding its way between his teeth, and his hand coming down from your ass to find your head, caressing your hair. He picked his hips up to assist you and you brought your eyes up to him, a silent ‘thank you’ swirling in your eyes. He felt the denim leaving his legs finally, gazing upon you as you looked at him expectedly, awaiting instruction. Your eyes flit from his cock, to his face, and then down at your fingers, his gaze too scary for you to handle and his cock too vulgar for you to comprehend.

“Lick it,” he said simply. “Just like those lollipops papa would give you after completing your tasks.”

Your body began moving of its own accord. Your lips quirked up in an interested manner but your eyes betrayed you. You had no idea what you were doing. Your fingers stuttered as you reached out for his dick, barely holding it, as if it would break in your hands.

“Hold it tighter,” he breathed, abs quivering in excitement, longing to feel your mouth.

Following his instruction, you gripped his dick harder, your breathing getting shallower as you brought it to your lips. Peter held his breath as he felt yours on his tips, the warmth of your exhales tickling the head of his cock. You adjusted yourself, laying down on your stomach. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth as you licked his dick from base to tip, tasting his pre as you swallowed.

“There we go,” he breathed. “Give me some more. Relax your throat.”

Peter gazed at you through hooded eyes, enjoying how you became more adventurous. Wrapping your lips around his head and swirling your tongue around it, playing with his slit out of curiosity. His hands gripped the sheets, veins popping around his forearms. He wanted to be gentle with you and ease you into this but, you were making it extremely difficult.

“Stroke it. Yes, just like that,” he whined. “Fuck, you’re doing so good.”

Tears kissed your eyes at his words, that’s all you wanted. To be told that you were helping him, being good. Your hand dragged up and down while you played with his tip, tongue rolling against the underside of his head. Peter’s hips bucked, throwing you off balance and making you release his cock.

“No, fuck. I’m sorry, my dear.”

Your hand found his length once more, stroking it slowly sending Peter into a frenzy.

“Don’t be,” you whimpered. “It just caught me off guard.”

Learning from the experience, you leaned back down and took him in your mouth, going further than the tip, forcing your head down. Peter let out a guttural moan at this, making the butterflies in your stomach erupt. Your eyes flitted up to look at him and the sight that greeted you was heavenly. His curls were matted, sticking up in odd places. His face was flushed completely, a soft red making its way down his neck. His lips were swollen and saliva kissed, opened in a permanent ‘o’. Finally, one arm was behind his head holding onto the pillows and the other was holding onto the sheets, his muscles on full display for you; flexing and relaxing at the stimulation you were giving.

You came back up for a split second, taking a deep breath, saliva still connecting your lips to his cock, before going back down. One of your hands came up to stabilize yourself, placing your palm flat on his lower abdomen, and the other continued to stroke the base of his dick. You closed your eyes, as you tried to look relax your throat, struggling to control your gag reflex. Tears tickled your cheeks as you tried to hold yourself there. Opening your eyes, you looked up at him again.

“You look so beautiful,” he breathed hooded eyes finding yours.

You whimpered at that, coming back up, and stroking his cock in response, not wanting him to go a minute without pleasure. The drool left behind allowed your hand to move faster. Peter’s chest mirrored your hand moving faster and faster, his pants whiny and light. His thighs quivered as pleasure coursed through him, sparks of electricity causing him to buck into your hand. Squeezing him tighter and keeping your speed, you watched on your stomach as his toes curled at the overwhelming delight. You brought your mouth back over to his tip, swirling his head.

“Fuck baby,” he moaned, saliva sticking to his throat making it hard to swallow.

His hips didn’t stop bucking, your mouth bringing his ecstasy closer and closer, his head spinning at the warmth and stickiness around his cock. His veins around his arms continued to pop as he clenched at the duvet, constant sparks laying claim to his lower back before jumping down to his toes and back up to his head, his orgasm surprised you. Warm, sticky ropes of white shooting to the back of your mouth, forcing you to swallow.

Small ‘hahs’ and ‘mmhs’ left Peter’s lips as he tried to catch his breath. A small trickle of cum escaped from the corner of your mouth, making Peter shiver as you looked up at him with an innocent look of shock. You felt his hand on the back of your head, stroking your hair as he looked at you with love and pride, a small smile falling onto your lips.

“I might have to use your mouth more often, my love,” he sighed, his hand coming down to your cheek. “You took care of me so well.”

His thumb captured the liquid pleasure dripping down your chin before forcing it back into your mouth, loving the feeling of your tongue swirling around his finger.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

|*|

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A/n: This will be the last part of the Taken Care Of series. I hope ya'll enjoyed it ♡

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