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iniquitousyearning · 7 months ago

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SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 21st. tom — gun play / dubcon / masochism.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: tom can’t hurt you, but you love seeing him try.

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, i truly mean it minors stay back from this one. this is as fantasy as it comes. do not do this at home. or anywhere, ever. empty unloaded gun, gunplay, hardcore gun kink, masochist reader, sadist tom, very ooc tom riddle imo, lots of history between these two, angst and tension and emotion.

It doesn't matter how you got here—trapped in a room with Tom Riddle circling you, hands clasped behind him, his brother standing guard like a fucking solider just outside the door—it doesn't matter that your wrists are bound behind your back, rope cutting into your skin, or that you were caught somewhere deep within the manor, searching for information for the Order. It doesn't matter that you grew up with Tom and Mattheo, all those years in the orphanage, loved them both more than you ever loved yourself.

It doesn't fucking matter.

Nothing does—nothing except the man standing in front of you—nothing except the moment his hand reaches behind him, pulling a gun from where it had rested at his waist.

Yeah, uh, yeah—that might matter. Just a little.

"I never took you for someone who'd resort to Muggle weapons," you manage, but your voice is thin, a strained sound under the pulse thundering at your throat. "How refined."

Tom's eyes trace over you, stalling on the rhythm at your neck as though it's tangible before dragging back up to meet your own. He hasn't spoken in minutes, just watching, letting the silence swell, the tension grow with each passing second.

He's building it slowly, deliberately. It's always been a game to him—one he knows you'll lose.

"There's a certain appeal to them." His thumb grazes the trigger, almost absentmindedly. "So much power at the flick of a finger. No skill, no magic. Just finality."

Heat rises up your neck, settling in your cheeks, and all you can do is stare at him. He knows he doesn't need to touch you to break you—he's never had to. Tom's greatest weapon, when it comes to you, has always been his words.

He steps closer, fingers still ghosting over the gun as if he isn't holding all of your fate in his hands. He slows when his shins brush against your knees, and you hate how your pulse jumps, how you feel so small beneath him.

"You're tense," he murmurs, amusement playing at the corner of his lips. "Is it the weapon? Or something else?"

You lift your gaze because there's nowhere else to look—dark stone walls close in around you and he occupies every free inch of space between. It's laughable, really, the way your heart aches when you meet his eyes. You know he has to make an example of you, to prove something to the Death Eaters lurking beyond these walls, but despite the fire in his gaze, you can see it—the way he's holding back, just like he's done time and time again, for years.

No matter what he's become, there's still something of the boy you once knew buried beneath the surface. The boy who used to curl into you for warmth, for survival.

Your eyes flicker down to the gun again. You force the words past grit teeth. "Do you need that to feel powerful, Tom?"

There's something chilling in how natural the gun looks in his hand, the way he wields it with the same ease he uses to twist a wand. You’re certain Tom could find ease in anything, especially empty handed.

He's silent for a long moment, until he isn't. "I don't need anything to feel powerful."

The barrel catches the light as he raises it, and your skin tightens in anticipation. You close your eyes briefly as he drags it lazily up your arm, tracing a line of cold fire over your collarbone. Your heart is gone, soaring far away from this room, and a shiver rolls through you—not from fear, but from something you can't name. Something that's always belonged to him—

When the gun reaches your throat, your eyes flutter open, drawn to the sight of metal pressed against your skin.

He tilts his head, studying you. "You think this makes me dangerous?"

He tilts the gun beneath your chin, nudging your head back until your gaze meets his again. You gasp, and your thighs tense involuntarily. His eyes flicker down—he notices.

It's not the gun. It's him. Christ, it's always been him.

"No," you force out against the threat at your throat. "I think you make you dangerous."

Something shifts in Tom's eyes—just for a moment, before it vanishes beneath something more potent—determination.

He moves behind you in a slow circle, fingers brushing through your hair as if in contemplation. It's only a moment before his other hand brings the gun back, cold metal kissing the edge of your shoulder. You tense, feeling the weight of him behind you, his breath ghosting over your neck—and he inhales against your skin as he slides the gun lower, tracing the dip between your breasts, dragging like a threat down to your lap until the barrel presses against your thigh.

At this point, your heart pounds so loud you're certain Mattheo can hear it from outside the door—all you can do is stare at where his hand lingers, your mind racing ahead to the edge of terror and something far more dangerous.

"You seem...unbothered all of a sudden," Tom muses, teasing the gun up your thigh, dragging your skirts along with it. "One might expect the opposite reaction, given where this gun happens to be."

You know it's a game. Of course it's a game—his way of toying with you, forcing a reaction, demanding fear where there's none left. Except instead of fear, there's an unbearable heat curling inside you, your thighs wanting to close around the gun, to push against it, to feel it.

God, you hate that he does this to you.

"You won't hurt me," you manage, though your voice cracks. Your hips shift, just slightly, but enough to feel the cold metal slide higher. "If you wanted to, you would have."

That's the truth of it, isn't it? In the darkest moments, when you face him like this, you know with every beat of your heart that he'd never hurt you. You trust him in the way you shouldn't, in the way no one else in the world could. He could kill anyone else without a second thought, but not you.

That trust is what keeps pulling you back here, again and again, even though you've sworn yourself to the Order, even though you've promised to fight against everything he stands for.

"You always did have a death wish." He says, spitting the syllables at you, the disgust in his tone making your stomach lurch. His grip tightens in your hair. "Is that all it takes to make you pliable? My hands on you, a weapon in the room, and suddenly you're eager? Suddenly you trust me again?"

"You've never been able to kill me." You whisper, trying to sound cocky, sarcastic, but it comes out wrong—too breathless, too raw. "And you never will."

"I've never needed to." He murmurs as the gun moves again, pressing firmly against the apex of your thighs, nudging toward your clothed cunt. "You destroy yourself just fine."

You can't think, can't breathe, can't be when his voice wraps around you like this, when he presses the gun against you like it's a fucking present. Every nerve in your body is screaming, every instinct warring against itself. You want to grind against the barrel, to push it deeper between your legs. You want to trap it there, feel it pressed so tightly that you can't move. You want to drag his face to yours, taste his breath, break him.

Yet, you want to pull away and strike him across the face all the same—and that is Tom's power over you.

It's always been this way with him. You hate him—he's horrible and corrupt and so goddamn bad for you but he knows exactly what to say—exactly what to do to make you want to hurt him, to make you want to worship him in the same breath. The intensity of it steals the air from your lungs, makes a groan slip from your lips before you can stop it.

"Tell me, Tom," you grit out, forcing yourself still despite every inch of you wanting to move, wanting to react. "Would your fucking gun be on me like this if I was terrified of it? Would you be pressing it against me like this if it was loaded?"

The insinuation doesn't escape him. Not for a second. You have him pinned and it pisses him off because you fucked up by sneaking in here but there’s not a damn thing he can do to punish you for it that wouldn’t be punishment towards himself as well.

His grip in your hair tightens as the gun drags slowly over your clit, and you keen at the contact, your hips pushing into it.

"Fucking vixen," he pulls your head back roughly, his breath hot against your ear. His voice—the rawness— sends a goddamn thrill through you, makes your whole body jerk. "I have you tied to a chair, a gun at your cunt, and you still have the power to make me doubt myself.”

"That's me, Tom." You laugh, breathless. "Always ruining your fun."

His eyes flash with something—something devastating but it doesn't scare you because you've been here so many fucking times before. It only makes you arch your back, grinding against the gun harder, a soft moan escaping your lips just to spite him.

He watches you—eyes lidded, and something in the way he stares makes you ache.

"Why do you keep coming back here?" A question hissed through a tight jaw, words crawling down your spine, burrowing beneath your skin. "You keep testing me...fighting me...just to end up like this...”

You gasp. "I have to stop you—I—“

He cuts you off by yanking your head toward his until his forehead presses against yours—

"I didn't ask why you came," his nose brushes yours as he speaks. "I asked why you keep coming back. Why do you keep coming back to be...this for me?"

His voice is raw, something you've never heard in a long long time—unguarded—so fucking human. It makes the heat in your belly coil tighter, and your eyes flutter shut against the weight of it. You don't have an answer, not one that makes sense, not one that fits the way he's looking at you now.

"I-I don't know," is all you can offer.

Tom makes a noise in the back of his throat—low, frustrated, a sound that hums between you.

"Yes, you do," he hisses. "Don't get shy on me now."

He shifts the gun again, sliding beneath your panties, the cold metal making contact with your slick slit and you fucking gasp—a sound so loud you're sure Mattheo heard it—along with the rest of the goddamn house, too.

"This isn't about stopping me," Tom says, a whisper of words. "This isn't about taking away my control—not really."

He's right, and the truth of it stings. This isn't about stopping him, not entirely. You hate him for his choices but gods, you fucking crave this—him, his power over you. Every time you've come here, sneaking past the Order's notice, pretending to gather evidence, pretending you're smart enough to catch him in something—you know this is what you wanted. You know it's always been about him. The boy you survived with, the boy you loved—it's about how you've always belonged to him, even though you hate him for it.

It's always been him. Only him.

"Fuck," you gasp again as you feel the gun shifting, pressing harder against your cunt, and your mind is spinning because you can't believe he might—he wouldn't really— "…are you about to—Jesus, Tom..."

He's listening, you know he is. He's waiting for any hint of something that tells him to stop—a flinch, a breath that isn't right, the smallest sound that says you don't want this. But all he hears is you. You, the girl he's known since all you had was eachother, the one who loved him but left, who keeps coming back to him, no matter how much you claim to hate him.

He hears you submit, and it fuels him.

"You are..." he jerks your head again, roughly, forcing you to meet his eyes as the gun nudges against your soaked entrance, "...so unbelievably frustrating."

Oh, the irony. "I'm...not the only—oh gods—"

Your words crumble into nothing, dissolving in your throat as he presses the gun inside you. Cold metal pushing deep, rough ridges working you wide, the pressure burning with something almost unbearable in its fucking intensity.

Your mind hazes with it, and a groan that isn’t yours fills the room as you fight to adjust to the stretch.

"I hate this," he spits, his voice like gravel, raw and jagged with frustration, trembling with restraint. His eyes, wide and wild, stay locked on yours as though he can't tear himself away. "I hate how easy it is with you—I hate how quickly you give in, how you let me do this to you because you know I’d stop if you asked—I hate how I can never look at you without remembering what it feels like to be inside you. I hate how badly I still want that, after all these years, even though you left me. I hate you for making me want this."

Oh god—fucking hell—there's no room in your head for coherence now, no space left to argue, to resist—Tom Riddle has been so many things to you over the years, but openly, unabashedly vulnerable has never truly been one of them. Not until now. You feel it—beneath the brutality, the power—something fragile.

His forehead presses against your temple, the intimacy of it dizzying, disarming. You clench around the cold metal and he pushes it deeper.

He continues. “Admittedly, I hate myself most for wanting you to want this back.”

Your voice cracks around a sob—he’s pumping the gun in and out of you now—lewd sounds filling the room and your head tips back against his shoulder. His free hand slips from your hair and cups your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek, a gesture that almost feels tender though you know better. His version of tenderness is as dangerous as anything else he offers.

You whinge. “T-Tom—oh fuck—I’m always going to let you win. I trust you—“

"Don't," he cuts you off in a groan against your cheek. Pumping the barrel into you, making your back arch off the chair. “You have no reason to. You know better."

You hear the unspoken words in his voice, the ones he can't bring himself to say aloud—I don't deserve it—and it makes your chest ache, makes your throat tighten—makes you want to shake him, wake him up from this nightmare—

"Of course I know better," you whisper through a gasp as he mutters a spell, something swirling over your clit that makes your eyes roll. “Gods—but you’ve never wanted me rational anyways.”

"You're right," he hisses and you hear the pain in it, a man who has everything still simultaneously has nothing and it makes him frustrated—all because of you. "I never wanted you to be rational. I never wanted you to be safe. I never wanted you to be anything other than mine."

You keen as the sensation on your clit intensifies and he pumps the gun quicker, you look down to watch his hand, the way his knuckles tense with the movement and you can almost see the restraint under his skin telling you just how bad he wishes he was pumping into you instead. You can hear your arousal—you feel the shame in it and you should be disgusted by it, by everything this is, but instead, it only makes your heart race faster.

You know there's more he's not saying—that he can't say.

He wants you to be his, but he will never let you be his.

"I hate you. What you've become." The words scrape from your lips between moans, your climax charging fast. "It shouldn't be this...this hard."

"This is why I call you frustrating. How can you hate me and still let me do this to you?" His voice is raw, burning with something you don't fully understand, but you can feel it— he's pushing deeper, grinding the gun against you with every bit of anger he has left. You're on fire, your mind spinning out of control, and the ropes digging into your skin only ground you to the pain, to the pleasure. "I'm defiling you...and yet, you keep coming back.”

"God," you grunt, sweat slicking over your skin because you’re so goddamn close and his words only drag you that much closer. "Jesus f—Tom, please—“

"Please what?" His hand slips back through your hair, eyes jerked to meet his. "You need to be more specific, sweetheart."

There's a bite in the pet name, but you don't care. All you can think of is him, of more, of everything he's doing to you, and it's not enough. It’ll never be fucking enough—

“Please!” Words fail you. “Tom—I—“

He shudders at the sound of your voice, at how helpless you are, at all the power you've given him.

"Words," he snarls, pumping quicker. "I'll give you what you want, but you’ll need to use. your. words."

“Please! I need to cum!” You blurt out. “Tom—Tom! I need to—“

With that, he kisses you to cut you off, teeth sinking into your lower lip with fervour that borders on irrational. Which, of course it is. All of this is beyond fucking irrational. It's not careful or soft or gentle, his lips searing against yours as if he's trying to claim every breath you've ever taken, every inch of space between you. And you—god, you kiss him back just as fiercely while hating yourself for the way you want it, need it, how you crave the bruises his mouth is leaving behind.

Tom groans against your lips and it's the sound of something breaking, something starved for way too long, something desperate to pour out of his blood. His tongue slides over yours, wet and warm, and you feel the ropes biting into your wrists, feel the ache where your arms strain to break free. You realize, with a pulse of helpless longing, that if you weren't tied, you'd be clawing at him—dragging him closer, letting him consume every part of you until there was nothing left.

"Feel that shame?" He whispers as he pulls back, just as you’re about to tip over. "That's your punishment.”

And then—you break, shatter, explode and the sound that escapes you is so fucking raw you don’t even recognize it. Something filled with the shame of wanting someone so goddamn bad you let them fuck you with a weapon—the shame of wanting someone so terrible you’d never be able to explain yourself to anyone with a rational pulse. The sounds come without reason, without thought—just a release of emotion that you had held in for far, far too long.

“That’s it. Let it burn.” He coos, hungrily watching you break. “You will always be mine."

A jagged sound escapes you as you twitch in aftershocks and he finally, however torturously slowly, pulls the gun free. You realize just how empty you feel without it now, how Tom made it feel so fucking intimate even though, in reality, it was the furthest from. He didn’t even touch you.

“You’re just weak. For me.” He says, as though he heard your thoughts. Part of you knows he did. He brings the gun up to your lips, urging you to part them. “Clean your mess. This is Mattheo’s gun.”

You grimace but take it into your mouth anyways, tasting the result of your need—the shame that comes along with it, the self disgust—the list goes on. Tom watches you tease your tongue around it, his throat working in a terribly dry swallow as you hollow your cheeks and suck it clean as he pulls it free.

He shudders, and for a moment his control wavers. But then he shakes his head, and exhales.

"I was meant to be alone, I understand that." He whispers, something abhorrently vulnerable, tucking the gun away before working at undoing the ropes around your wrists. “But you...you were never meant to change me. And I need you, to understand that.”

A lump forms in your throat. You taste the tears wanting to well but you force them away and instead, you nod.

“I know.”

He straightens up again and presses a kiss to your forehead, soft and almost tender—so different from the way he treated you merely moments ago. It's a goodbye—you can feel it in the way his lips linger, reluctant.

“Good girl.” He steps back. "Don't come back here."

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phantomwithbreakfast · 3 days ago

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DANNYMAY DAY 06: Transformation

Day 05 • Day 07

⟢ TW/CW: This Animation Contains Flashing Lights / Strobe Effects — Gore (Disturbing Images). Viewer discretion is advised! This animation and one-shot is made/written to reflect what PTSD really feels like. (More under the cut)

Genre: Angst / Hurt / Horror • TW/CW: PTSD — Dissociation — Graphic Content (Medical Torture / Vivisection — non-consensual experimentation) — Emotional Distress — Identity Crisis • Scarred For Half A Life (phic), my head canon • AU — OOC

Danny stood in his room, bare feet on cold floorboards, the silence pressing in like a weight. His reflection stared back from the mirror—familiar, but… not. There was something almost foreign about the boy in the glass. Yet, for once, he didn’t hate it. He tilted his head, squinted, and gave himself the smallest smile. Maybe—just maybe—he didn’t look like a complete wreck today.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone. A stupid idea, really.

It felt like ancient times ago that he had taken a selfie. But today, something felt different. Lighter. As if the air didn’t taste like smoke and antiseptic for once. He wanted to believe he was healing.

A breath in. Shaky. But there was something soft about this moment. He wanted to remember it.

He raised the phone, adjusted the angle as his thumb hovered over the screen.

Just one picture. Just to remember that not every day is hell.

A stupid selfie—something to mark a day he didn’t hate his life. A tiny victory for himself.

The softest smile ghosted across his lips—brief, fragile. But it faltered, trembling at the edges. He tried. God, he fxcking tried. But even some hope felt like a lie when it slipped away so easily.

Click.

F L A S H.

He didn’t turn it off. The light exploded across the mirror, for one purr of less than a second—a reflection stared back at him that wasn’t his.

It was there. He was there. That room. That table. Cold metal straps biting into his wrists. Screaming—his voice, raw and desperate. His mother’s voice, sharp and clinical. White suits. White pain. The scalpel carving down his chest. Ectoplasm pooled, searing as it poured from every hole—his nose, his ears, his mouth, the open cuts. Burning him from the inside out—like he was leaking his very own soul.

The vivisection—his lungs, his core, the wet, sickening sound of his insides being pried open. Electric shocks ripping through him, leaving jagged scars across his skin, his face. His body jerking, seizing. Helpless. Exposed. Stripped of everything—dignity, safety, humanity. Just… meat under a microscope.

Danny didn’t register the transformation. Suddenly, Phantom stared back—shoulders stiff, eyes blown wide, chest rising too fast. Phantom took over when Danny was too shattered to stand. Phantom kept the body breathing while Danny’s mind was stuck reliving his own dissection.

His hand gripped the phone. He couldn’t breathe. He was shaking, couldn’t feel the ground beneath him. He wasn’t in his room anymore. He wasn’t now. He was then, again.

A breath. Shallow. Sharp. Coming back to present.

He looked down. The photo showed his soft smile. But he wasn’t smiling. He didn’t even feel real.

Everything was fine.

That’s what he kept telling himself.

Everything is fine.

But his throat burned. His skin felt too tight. The phantom pain still whispered under his ribs, behind his eyes.

Nothing was fine.

It never had been.

He crouched to the floor, arms wrapping around his chest, clutching the place they’d cut him open. The place they said it didn’t belong to him. The place he wasn’t allowed to own.

He wanted to scream.

But even now, even here, he was too afraid to make a sound.

The mirror was still there, his own reflection. And that… that was the worst part.

Because he wasn’t sure… which version was real anymore.

⟢ No, I’m not going to show the disturbing image from the animation. It’s—just… no. If you really want to see it, pause the video at that exact moment. I gave Trigger Warnings, so don’t come after me! (:

⟢ Even I find it really disturbing—and I’m a horror / angst / whump fan. Maybe, it’s because it’s Danny, I don’t know. Almost my whole blog is about Danny angst, lol.

⟢ The boy deserves better. He deserves a warm, grounding hug—wrapped up safe in a blanket like a burrito, held tight until the shaking stops. But we wouldn’t want to do that if there wasn’t a reason behind it—so we write angst phics and make angst art. We break him first… so the comfort means something. Poor Danny!

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carnalcrows · 3 months ago

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DEADBEAT BABY DADDY - JUNHEE

pairing: jun-hee x guard! male reader

synopsis: A very pregnant and very pissed-off Jun-hee finds an unexpected way to relieve her stress—with a little help from you.

content warnings: 18+, ooc characters, breast sucking, lactation kink (?), clitoris stimulation, semi-public sex.

word count: 0.8k

A/N: had fun with this fic lolol. req

The dormitory was filled with the usual dull hum of players chatting and masked guards going about their duties—shuffling boots, quiet conversations, and the occasional scolding from a higher-up. But above all that, a sharp, familiar voice rang out.

"You absolute bastard, Myung-gi!"

A few nearby players and guards turned their heads ever so slightly before quickly minding their business. No one wanted to be caught in the crossfire when a pregnant woman was pissed.

You, however, had the misfortune of standing right next to her as she advanced on Myung-gi, who had the audacity to look amused despite the absolute fury radiating off of her.

"You knew I was pregnant, and you still dragged me into this nightmare?" she hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest.

Myung-gi scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets like this was all some minor inconvenience. "First of all, I didn't drag you into anything. Second, you needed the money, didn’t you?"

Jun-hee actually looked like she might strangle him. "I needed money to take care of my baby, not to be stuck in this hellhole surrounded by trigger-happy idiots and—"

She gestured wildly in your direction.

"—him!"

You blinked. "Me? What did I do?"

She turned on you like a storm brewing, eyes fiery. "You're the one who keeps following me around, Triangle Boy!"

You raised your hands in defense. "That's because someone needs to make sure you don’t pass out from stress!"

Jun-hee groaned, rubbing her temple. "I swear, if I survive this, I'm killing you both after I give birth."

She stomped away, muttering under her breath, leaving you standing there awkwardly with Myung-gi.

"...So," he said, stretching, "you two got something going on?"

You shoved him as you walked past. "Shut up."

Later that night, you found her in the dimly lit bathroom, leaning against the sink, breathing deeply. Her hands cradled her stomach instinctively, her frustration from earlier replaced by something softer.

"You okay?" you asked, shutting the door behind you.

She huffed. "No. My feet hurt, my back hurts, and my brain is melting from being surrounded by morons all day."

You hesitated before stepping closer. "Anything I can do?"

She eyed you, skeptical. "Anything?"

"Uh... within reason."

A slow smirk formed on her lips, but it quickly faded into something more vulnerable. "It's stupid, but..." She exhaled, shifting uncomfortably. "My chest is killing me."

You furrowed your brows. "Like, heart pain? Or—"

She shot you a deadpan look.

"Oh. Ohhh." Your face heated. "That’s... um."

Pregnancy was making her breasts sore and swollen, and yeah, you’d read somewhere that relieving the pressure could help, but—

"Forget it," she mumbled, moving to leave.

You grabbed her wrist before you could think twice. "No! I mean... I can help. If you want."

She looked at you carefully, searching for any sign of mockery or hesitation. Finding none, she sighed and leaned back against the sink.

"Fine. But no weird comments, got it?"

You nodded solemnly. "I promise to be the pinnacle of professionalism while sucking your—"

She smacked the back of your head.

"Shutting up now."

You slowly slid off your mask– this was definitely against the rules but– when in need, eh?

Carefully placing your hands on her waist, you lowered your head to her tits as she adjusted herself slightly. The warmth of her body, the gentle rise and fall of her breath—it all felt strangely intimate. As your mouth latched onto her, a shudder ran through her, and she let out a soft, relieved sigh.

You held her waist with one hand as you kneaded her free breast with the other. She let out soft moans, arching her back in such a way that you took more of her into your mouth.

Your hand slid from her waist to the hem of her track pants– tugging at the hem as a silent ask for permission. She let you– shimming down the tracks, along with her panties. You rubbed lazy circles around her clit as you latched onto the other breast, giving both equal attention.

"...You’re surprisingly good at this," she breathed out, her fingers absentmindedly carding through your hair.

You pulled back slightly, meeting her gaze. "Do not make this weird, Player 222."

She smirked lazily. "Too late."

You rolled your eyes and returned to your task, focusing on helping her relax.

For a while, the world outside the bathroom didn't exist. There were no games, no fear, no guns—just the warmth of her body against yours and the steady rhythm of her breathing.

And then the door opened.

You froze. Jun-hee froze. A shadow loomed in the doorway, and through the dim lighting, you could make out none other than Player 001 himself.

There was a long, excruciating silence.

"...Am I interrupting something?" His voice was flat, but you could feel the judgment.

“Boss–It’s uh, not what it looks like–”

“BOSS?!”

#squid game x reader #squid game season 2 x reader #junhee x reader #jun-hee x male reader #male!reader #squid game #player 222 #player 222 x reader #masc reader #male reader #m!reader #squid game season 2 #masc #x male reader #top male reader #squid game x male reader #smut

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mikuluvu · 4 months ago

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HER LAST CALL

Summary: You and the team were in a mission, almost a whole swarm of enemies we're chasing you and the team. But when you stepped on pressure-triggered landmine with no way to disarm it, you made a unthinkable choice to be left behind so they can escape.

CW: Character death, Soap ooc??, Themes of grief and loss.

Tf141 x fem!reader

A/n: 3/10 COD fic posted! This one is a angst, i rlly love this fic mwa mwa. It was 4 out 4 pages in my google docs LMAOO. This was kinda a little bit of Soap x reader?

The jungle was filled with chaos, gunfire tore through the trees, and shouts of the enemies closed in. Task Force 141 and you moved through the bushes, their breathing ragged but their focus was steady. The extraction helicopter was only three klicks away, the sound of its blade barely heard over the gunshots.

“Move, move! They’re on our six!” Ghost’s voice barked through the comms.

Soap glanced back, looking the silhouettes running towards them. “Christ, they’re swarmin’ like bloody ants! We need to pick up the pace!”

Price pushed forward at the front, his rifle raised as he led the team. “Eyes up! Stick together, and keep fuckin’ moving!”

You ran in the middle of the team, your lung burning. The mission had gone sideways hous ago, and now it was a race for survival.

The enemies was close, too close. But then, as you pushed through a particularly thick path of brush, it happened.

Click.

Your boot froze mid-step. For a moment, you didn’t register what it was. But then the cold, horrifying reality hit you like a train. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked down. There, placed beneath your foot, was the edge of a land mine.

“Shit,” you whispered. Your body went rigid, “No, no, no…”

Soap, who has been keeping close behind you, halt to a stop as he noticed your sudden halt. “Y/n! Fuckin’ move it! We’re dead if-” His words dies as he saw the look on your face. His eyes followed yours to the ground, and his expression instantly turned grim.

“Fuck,” he muttered, crouching down beside you. “Pressure-triggered?”

You nodded, you voice shaky but calm. “I-if I lift my foot, it’s game over.”

“Bloody brilliant,” Soap hissed, dragging a hand down his face. “Alright, don’t panic. We can figure this out. There’s got to be a way-”

“Soap.” you cut him off through his rambling. “You know there’s no way out of this.”

The rest of the team realized both of you were gone, making them double back, forming a tight circle around you.

“What’s goin’ on?” Ghost said,

“She stepped on a mine,” Soap said quickly, his jaw clenched. “One of those pressure-sensitive one. If she moves, it’ll blow.”

“God damn it,” Price muttered, dropping to one knee to see the situation. Gaz stood nearby, firing gunshots into the jungle to keep the enemies at bay,

“We’ve got to disarm it,” Soap said, his voice growing more frantic. “Or… or swap out somethin’ for the pressure.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Gaz cut in, “They’re right behind us!” he yelled, as he keeps on shooting.

Price’s hand hovered over the mine, but hesitated, “It’s too risky,” he admitted. “Even if we had time, there’s no guarantee we could disarm it without triggering it.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to speak through the lump in your throat. “Then… you have to leave me.”

Those words hung heavy in the air, like a gunshot. Everyone froze, their eyes snapping to you, because you suggested something unthinkable.

“Not happenin’,” Ghost said instantly.“Listen to me,” you said, your voice trembling. “They’re closing in. If you stay here, we’re all dead. I can buy you time to get to the helicopter.”

“No,” Soap snapped. “We don’t leave anyone behind, and we’re not starting now.”

“Soap…” You reached out, gripping his arm. “You have to, There’s no way to save me without costing everyone else their lives.”

Ghost took a step closer, “We’ve been through worse. We’ll find a way-”

“You fucking can’t!” you shouted, tears stinging your eyes. “There’s no way outt of this, and you know it!”

The team fell silent, the weight of your words sinking in. Price stood up slowly, “She's right,” he said quietly. “We’re out of time.”

Soap stood up and whipped around, glaring at him. “You’re just gonna leave her? Just like that?”

“Do you think I want to do this?” Price snapped, his voice cracking. “Do you think any of us do? But if we stay, she dies and we die. We’ve got to make the hard call.”

Soap turned back to you, his eyes pleasing. “There’s gotta be another way,” he whispered. “Please.”

Your heart broke at the pain in his voice, but you steeled yourself. “There isn’t. Soap, you have to go.”

Gaz grabbed Soap’s shoulder, pulling him back. “She’s giving us a chance to get out of here. Don’t waste it.”

Ghost lingered, his dark eyes burning into yours. “You don’t deserve this,” he said quietly.

You smiled weakly, your tears finally spilling over. “Just promise me you’ll make it out,” you said. “All of you.”

“We will, love” Price said, his hand gripping your shoulder and looking at you with his now soft eyes.

Ghost hesitated a moment longer, then turned away, his hands gripping his gun tightly. Soap looked back at you one last time, “I’m sorry,” he choked out.

“Don’t be,” you said, your voice breaking. “Just go.”

And then they were gone. The sound of gunfire grew louder as they closed in. Your gripped your gun tightly, your heart pounding as you prepare yourself.

“This is where I make it count,” you whispered to yourself.

The first wave burst through the trees, and you opened fire, cutting them down one by one. You fought with everything you had, holding your ground as long as possible. The sound of the helicopter’s rotors grew faintly louder in the distance, a reminder that they were almost safe.

You closed your eyes, and then the mine detonated, englufing the jungle in a blinding flash of light.

The team was silent, their boots heavy as they walked through the compound.

Laswell was already waiting for them, she noticed the missing member immediately.

“Where… is she?’ she asked,

Price stopped in front of her, his hat pulled low over his face. He didn’t answer immediately. When he finally spoke, “She didn’t make it.”

Laswell’s breath hitched, “What happened?”

“She stopped on a pressure mine,” Gaz said softly, “There was no time to defuse it. She… she stayed behind so we could make it out.”

Soap, who has been silent until now, suddenly snapped. “It shouldn’t have happened!” he shouted. “She didn’t have to fuckin’ die! We could’ve done something! Anythin’, but we just fucking left her there-”

“Soap,” Price said, his voice low but firm.

“No!” Soap turned to Price, “you were the one who agreed to leave her”

He didn’t react, “She made the call, Johnny. She made it for us.”

“And we listened,” Soup muttered bitterly, sinking onto a nearby chair. “We bloody fuckin’ listened.”

A/n: Wooohooo! sorry for this... (Im rlly not) I hoped you all liked this <3 Feel free to request Tf141 x reader! or any of the characters!

Reblogs w/comments are appreciated! You can support me through buying me a coffee!

#x reader #cod x reader #cod #angst #tf141 #tf141 x reader #tf141 angst #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #captain john price x reader #johnny mctavish #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #price x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader

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ambrosialdesire · 6 months ago

Text

bloodsports

[ PART ONE ] [ PART TWO ]

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: modern au!reiner x fem!reader word count: 13.6k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, explicit sexual content, unhealthy relationships, misogyny, public humiliation mentions, sorta an unbalanced power dynamic, a/b/o dynamics and themes, modern & college/university au, alpha & hockey player jock reiner (will be sorta ooc but ig you can count it as his s1-3 soldier persona), omega reader, enemies to sorta friends to enemies again to lovers (but both reiner and reader are stubborn dumdums and it's sorta one-sided), bertolt x reader implications, heavy jealousy/possessive themes, heavy self-sabotage, alcohol consumption, violence & blood warning, "fated" mates, usage of suppressants, unwarranted scenting, kinda scenting kink?, pheromone-bombing, size difference, size kink, noncon kissing, all characters are 18+ synopsis: trying to get through uni should've been easy, but presenting as an omega made you become a seemingly easy target for the many disgusting alphas that roamed the campus. no matter how much suppressants you took, you unfortunately just had to grab the attention of the most notorious one out there. the university's famed center in ice hockey, reiner braun. to you, he was nothing but a godforsaken, meatheaded annoyance. a/n: i am not one of god's strongest when comes to a/b/o or the omegaverse LMFAOO LIKE I CAN'T DENY IT, SUMN ABOUT IT MAKES ME GO ABSOLUTELY FERAL AND IDC WHAT OTHERS THINK 👺👺 anywaysss, yea it's another hatefuck reiner fic that i decided recently to make a two parter LOL i made reiner a hockey player because i kinda like hockey more (i watched one game irl with my sibling and it was hella cool even tho the team we were cheering for lost 💀 the state pride was crazy, i had no idea how irritating it was hearing the other team fans cheer 😭) but i'm really really new to the sport so forgive me if i make some mistakes about it lol (i did modify it a little so it can be more dramatic and violent lol) happy valentine's day (ik this late AFFFFF LMFAO) and hope you guys enjoy this! the second part will hopefully come not too far behind, maybe in december once i'm freed from school haha note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

"You're coming to my game, right?"

The sudden weight on the table of someone leaning upon it on the other side caused it to creak, but you didn't have to look up to know who it was. The wafting smell of warm, spiced vanilla with vague, yet noticeable earthy tones wrapped around you like a familiar heated blanket. No matter how nice it smelled, it only bubbled irritation within you. You continued writing your notes, ignoring the looming presence.

"Omega, answer and look at me." A chill ran down your spine and your head felt heavy once he spoke, the demand stern and clear. You didn't want to answer him, but your secondary gender was scratching at your brain like a persistent fly. Answer him, answer your alpha.

You stubbornly pinched your leg once to get yourself out of it before finally looking up at the man himself, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Can't. Have finals tomorrow. Also, don't ever do that shit to me or call me that."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, already knowing he wasn't going to take that as an answer. "You weren't answering me and c'mon, it's only for a few hours babe. Who wouldn't come to their alpha's big game today?"

"Me because you're not my alpha and I'm not your babe. Go find some other omega that drools over you because this one isn't going." You grumbled as you stood up, beginning to collect your stuff to get back to your dorm. He grabbed your wrist before you got your notebook, pulling you towards him, eyes were gleaming with determination.

"Come to my game and I won't bother you anymore. I promise."

You pulled your arm out of his grasp with a frown, quickly debating in your mind. Could you trust him?

On one hand, it would be nice to not get disturbed by him anymore. But on the other, that means you have to be packed in a stadium with sweaty alphas and a handful of excitable betas and omegas for an hour or two. The smell would be awful and overwhelming, false ruts and heats would get triggered easily from the adrenaline. You didn't even like ice hockey or any sport in general, too many alphas dominated the industry.

You bit back a heavy sigh, finally deciding on your answer.

"Ugh. I'm holding you to that promise then Reiner. No randomly showing up at my dorm, no waiting for me at the end of my classes, don't have your friends try and check up on me for your behalf either. Got it?" His hazel eyes lit up immediately and he nodded, his smile wide.

"You got it babe, I'll pick you up at 6."

You were about to tell him off about the pet name but he ran off, whooping in the quiet library while slamming the doors open. A few of the students' and staffs' glares went over to you, causing you to grimace before finally picking up your notebook. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

Life wasn't like this before. For a year and half, you've had an alpha cling onto your every move as if you've claimed one another. It may seem like that to him but you definitely didn't want anything to do with him. All Reiner did was bring a mix of trouble to you, a burden that you never wanted. Your secondary gender was supposed to be a hidden secret for only yourself to know — the prescribed supplements made sure of that — and you were supposed to present as a beta in order to live a peaceful university life. How painfully frustrating it was to be found out from a simple error in your day-to-day routine.

You were in a rush, you're human after all, and forgot to take them before you left your dorm. It wasn't until you entered your class when a brick of strong smells bitterly hit your nose, something that never happened before. One day and that's all it took for everyone's eyes to latch onto your frame, the horrifying hunger glimmering in the darks of their pupils.

You froze, unable to move from the doorway. The vileness of their stench rang alarms in your head, they were all sour and distasteful with every short whiff you took. It was overwhelming, heavy, and nauseating. You knew what they were all thinking, internally debating whether you should run back to your dorm or transfer.

A large arm had made its way around your shoulders, pulling you closer to their body. You panicked at first until a whiff of something sweet in the air stopped you. A spiced vanilla enveloped your senses with every breath you took and like a switch, your body immediately calmed down, unintentionally leaning closer to them to continue feeling this sweet relief.

"Hey." You tilted your head up at the person who was currently holding you by the neck and felt dread quickly fill up your stomach once more.

Reiner Braun, one of the most notorious womanizers on campus and the university's proclaimed players in ice hockey.

Reiner Braun, smelling like a freshly baked pastry, slinging his arm around you while unintentionally managing to bring you back to your senses.

Reiner Braun, whose face is suddenly way too close and you could just barely feel the brush of his lips against yours.

Your face burned up at the realization and you shoved him off you, eyes wide and mouth parted open in shock as you watched him stumble back to reality. What the fuck just happened and why the fuck did he smell so good out of everyone here? He looked like he was appalled by what he did as well but recovered faster than you did, a sly smirk growing on his face.

"Hey omega, just a head's up. The next time you come to class, don't smell like a sweet treat for us alphas alright?"

You thought you couldn't burn up even more than before, your body beginning to tremble in complete rage and mortification as the students began to howl in amusement. All of your emotions were pumping through your system all at once way too quickly and you finally ran out of the class, tears brimming on the edges of your eyes. There was no way you could handle being in there for another second. The boisterous laughter faded away in your eardrums and once you got far enough from prying eyes and ears, you collapsed to the ground and nearly sobbed your heart out.

You knew attending this university would be difficult but never in your life did you think you'd be humiliated in this way, just for one stupid little mistake. To alphas, any mistake that wasn't from their pretentious clique meant your life, your downfall, everything. It becomes a weakness to exploit and use, like a deer with a broken leg completely surrounded by a pack of starving wolves.

All you could think about over and over as you finally made it to your dorm was:

Fuck Reiner Braun.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

After that day, you made sure to take your supplements on time with an alarm. Regardless of that, you still felt skittish once you stepped foot in that damn class again. Not because of the possibility that the knowing glances of your classmates would come your way, but the fact that Reiner would not leave you alone ever since he embarrassed you.

When you finally went back to that class in the next lecture, you placed yourself all the way in the back corner than your usual spot, trying to hide yourself away until everyone forgot about the incident. It seemed that your humiliating moment had faded away quickly like a passing breeze since no one looked your way as the seats began to fill up one by one. It was not until you heard the familiar laugh of him, only then you started getting nervous.

You stared down in your notebook, trying to look as busy as possible but the shuffle of a heavy bag and a body sitting down next to you in the loudest way possible confirmed your worst suspicions.

"Good thing you saved a seat for me, that’s so nice of you omega." Reiner congratulated you in a false manner and you grimaced, turning your head towards him. He wasn't looking at you but he was smiling as he looked to the front of the room. You had to force yourself not to stare at his body, which was a mental battle in itself when his pheromones were as strong as ever.

He most likely exercised before coming here, a faint sweat stain on the chest of his white cut-off tank top confirming your thoughts. The tank top was hiding little to the imagination, loose enough to where you can see his sculpted muscles from the side but tight enough to where it accentuated his chest. He was manspreading — a common occurrence in those who were considered to be extremely prideful alphas — and wearing dark gray sweatpants.

You didn't mean to but your gaze slightly wandered a little more down, heart nearly stopped in your chest when you just barely spotted the faint outline of his half-hard cock against the fabric. He was... big and if that was him barely aroused, wow. You'd pray for those that let this son-of-a-bitch hit another time.

The usually dormant annoyance in your brain wanted to get down on her knees and suck him off till he got hard in her mouth, but you had to viciously fight her back into the deep crevices of your mind. You don't know why the urge was so strong, the meds you took usually gave you no sexual desires towards anyone. Maybe you need to up the dosage? You'd have to make a doctor's appointment soon because you don't know if you could stand this new disgusting pervert inside you.

It would be the coldest day in Hell if you ever let Reiner fuck you.

"I have a name, use it or fuck off." You turned back to your notebook and he chuckled in amusement.

"You got a bite now omega? Where was she the last time we spoke?"

"Maybe she would've been there if she wasn't on the verge of a breakdown. Fucking asshole." You muttered the last bit, starting to ignore him once the professor finally entered the class. Cracking your knuckles and opening your laptop to the latest powerpoint, you began writing down the important points of what was in the week's module. It took you nearly half of the three hour long lecture to notice that he didn't make any sound, no writing or keyboard clacking or any tapping from his phone. Your peripherals just barely caught the sight of him and your skin ran cold.

Reiner wasn't paying attention to the lecture. You started to practically feel the absolute intensity of his stare, burning two deep holes into the side of your face. The chair lightly squeaked as he suddenly moved closer to you, the audible sound of him sniffing at you came after.

What the fuck was his problem? You quickly inched yourself away from him, backing into the wall but he followed suit almost immediately. His large frame nearly engulfed yours, the sheer heat of his body radiating off as he neared you.

He sniffed once above your head, then again and again as if he was searching for something. Thank God you decided to shower this morning. The tense atmosphere between the two of you grew thicker with each passing second until his hazel eyes narrowed, the corner of his mouth twitched in faint irritation.

"...You don't smell like anything." Reiner sourly muttered before pulling away, giving back the needed space.

"Uh... yeah? I got back on track with my meds." What was up with him? Reiner had never once spoken to you before the incident, in the class and out of it. In this class in particular, you've usually seen him on his phone, napping, or quietly chatting with the nearest poor soul.

He's known to not fool around with your kind, back when you were still portraying yourself as a beta. Why would he? To them, betas were boring and basic. They weren't alpha enough to be considered to be one of them and not omega enough to fuck. His preferences were pretty out there in whispers and giggles too, so it's not like he would need a reason to talk to you unless it was to get his dick wet for the night. That seemed to be the plan in mind since he was continuously interacting with you.

"Why would you?" Reiner nonchalantly questioned, as if he wasn't the one of the reasons why you take such heavy supplements. Your eye twitched, your fingers tightening around your pen.

"Are you seriously asking me that?" You scowled, watching him shrug and lean back onto the chair.

"Yeah, why not? You're the first omega I've met with a scent that's not doused in cheaply made perfume, it's..." He stopped, thinking of the right words before finally settling on one. "Original."

You scrunched your nose, conflicted with what he just described. He is the talk of the campus, most if not all omegas would've loved to be marked by him; no wonder they try to court him with different concoctions. Then again, he could just be saying that to get into your pants. Original, ha! If he liked this so-called originality, he should find it in someone else.

"I'm not interested y'know, not after what you did last time."

After you said that, all the words seemed to die in his mouth. He became quiet for the rest of the lecture and you didn't have the courage to look back up to see his expression. The silence was a simmering awkwardness, and you could only try and listen to the professor as much as you could. His smell was now twisted with a dullness to it, almost bland and distasteful like the rest of the room. When the lesson finally ended, you started to zip your bag close and pull it through your arms, until his hand grabbed the strap and lifted it up onto his own shoulder.

"What do you think you're doing?" Panic bubbled in your chest as you tried to grab it back but he kept maneuvering out of your reach, a playful smile growing on his lips.

"Think of this as an apology to you omega. I'll walk you to your next class." Your heart dropped to your stomach, the last thing you needed was even more people staring at you, especially with the campus fuckboy in tow.

"You really don't have to and don't call me that." Reiner snorted as he walked down the stairs, you having no choice but to follow him.

"What else can I call you if you haven't told me your name yet?" He held the door open for you, readjusting the bags he was holding. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms.

"Why offer to walk me to my next class when I don't even know your name?" It was a lie, of course everyone knew him just by the simple utter of his name, but he laughed at your simple comeback, genuinely laughed. It didn't sound like it did when he poked fun of you that one day, your face starting to lightly flush warm.

"Fair enough. Name's Reiner, Reiner Braun. One of the University of Marley Warriors centers." You slightly cringed at the title, he just had to add that fact in. Oh well, might as well play along just a little.

"Y/N L/N, one of the many second year students in the University of Marley."

He laughed once more and nudged you on the back with his elbow, letting you take the lead.

"You're a funny girl Y/N."

You had to ignore the way your stomach fluttered from the way he said it, picking up your pace. Remember, you had to remember that he caused you a turmoil of anguish for a near week. All you were going to give him was this moment and that's it.

"Thanks."

Now that you think back on it, how silly it was for you to think that this was the last time he was ever going to talk to you.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

There wasn't a minute in your day where Reiner wasn't in your presence.

Nearly every day for roughly five or six months since you've started talking to one another, he'd manage to find you and socialize. He'd give you a small snack or drink too, ruffling your hair once you took it from his hand and sitting down in the seat next to you. Every day was a different topic that he asked, ranging from simple questions to a little more personal ones. You knew he was trying to pry whenever you didn’t say much about yourself so you've revealed only a few tidbits, nothing big. Sometimes he needed studying help and you didn't mind tutoring him about the subjects you were sorta knowledgeable in. He always seemed so interested and focused in whatever you say, so hey, at least he was a decent listener.

He started rejecting hang-outs with his friends and teammates, all to simply talk to you. It's crazy how often he did it, a few times occurring in front of you through phone calls. He'd only mentioned his teammates when he tried to invite you to numerous practices, implying that he wanted them to meet you. You turned him down about it for the first few times, creating excuses to not go, until you got tired of him asking and finally begrudgingly agreed.

Watching him practice made you realize one thing about him: Reiner loved to play dirty.

Of course since you were merely a new bystander of the sport, it might've been one of the core strategies of how to win in hockey. Yet the more you observed, the more you noticed how he treated everyone on the ice, friend or foe. He told you before that centers did a lot for their team and were known to be more on the offense, even when defending. You thought the role was perfect for him, considering how he started this whole "friendship" thing with you. However, the way he treated you was nothing compared to how he treated the sport.

It was like watching an illegal cage fight from the way he quickly sped towards the puck, viciously slamming into others to make way. A frightening sight indeed, maybe even more for the ones on the ice as they were the ones he barreled his shoulders into their chests and sides. You can't remember how many times you flinched watching an unfortunate player get rammed into the plastic barrier by Reiner, the heavy sound echoing throughout the stadium. Everyone on the opposing team was merely his punching bag and though they can get a few hits in, you could tell that they couldn't handle the constant confrontations. He didn't care that they were still his teammates and that this was merely a practice game. To lose is to lose and for an alpha, that could never be an option.

You never told him this, but you never liked the look in his eyes that he gets whenever he played, the darks of his pupils blowing out the once-warm hazel color with a carnal and exhilarated intensity within them.

Regardless of his violent attitude, Reiner genuinely worked well with his team, whomever was on his side at least. He especially got along with whoever jersey number 60 is — the only hint being that his last name is Hoover — and who was noticeably taller than anyone else on the team. The two were extremely compatible, making the smoothest passes that whenever you blinked, it would seem that the other had the puck in the first place.

The strangest part of it all was that he'd make you wear his jersey afterwards, that's also somewhat the reason why you stopped coming over to his practices besides the extreme harshness of the sport. It was way too intimate for him to be sharing a highly scented object to a friend but you've tried refusing, saying that you hated the stink and it was still wet with sweat. Reiner never really cared about what you said about it and pulled it over your head, the fabric hanging loosely mid-thigh. You hated how calm it made you feel and how every time he asked for it back, you'd hesitate.

Even if he did like you, you don't know why he was being overly friendly. Was it because you were an omega that he had to be nice to you? You tried not to think about it like that since you were slowly getting used to his presence, as if he became a part of your routine.

He never pushed anything sexual onto you either like you originally thought he was going to. Sure, he'd make a weird comment or joke here or there but it never really made you uncomfortable or escalated into something else. Your feelings towards him simmered down to a level of neutrality, not quite at peace from what he did but not as angry as before. Did he feel bad for his actions? He never really said an actual apology to you, but is that really why you still find him aggravating to be around with?

"You're such a study bug, don't you know how to have a little fun?" Reiner skimmed his fingers against the already-read pages, your bodies squished side-by-side, one of his arms wrapped loosely around your waist as the two of you read your textbook together. You don't know why or when but you started to not mind the physical contact with him anymore; you chalked it up to it being the winter months and you were cold as hell, he was basically the closest thing to a portable heater. Your physician upped the dosage of your meds as well and there was a noticeable difference, but it didn't seem to deter the thoughts you were having about Reiner. They probably would’ve faded away if not for his constant presence.

"I don't have time for fun, unlike you with your full-ride and sports." You muttered as you flipped the page, eyes skimming over the new paragraphs. He groaned and rested his head on top of yours, taking in a deep breath. You’ve noticed that he was more touchier with you compared to his other friends that you once watched from afar before, but you’ve gotten used to it for the past few months.

He was silent for a few pages until you could feel his fingers trail up against your scent gland, your body immediately freezing up. He shouldn’t be touching you there, a shiver going up your spine as you felt his fingertips rub light circles around it. You couldn’t stop him, not when your brain was currently being scrambled with the feeling.

"Your smell is still not there." He off-handily murmured, finally removing his hand from your neck and letting you collect your thoughts again.

You swallowed thickly, trying to clear your throat. "I think you forget that I take heavy suppressants."

"Why do you? Do you really not want to fuck anyone any time soon?" You cringed at his wording, meeting his eyes.

"Well yeah, pretty much. I want to focus on school, not constantly wonder if I'm going to suddenly go into heat around an alpha. And it's a guaranteed protection, I don't want to get accidentally marked this early in my life." You could feel his hand squeeze and knead at the meat of your hip, knowing that he was in thought.

"I don't know if our class remembers what sub-gender I am but you certainly do, you were literally in trance when you met me," You pointed out, feeling your skin prickle warm as you thought back on the memory. "And it was my mistake, I didn't mean to get off of them and do that to you. I'm pretty much protecting myself and others from doing something... irrational."

What he didn't know is that having no heat at all for months at a time had made you indescribably horny, but you've been managing it so well that you really didn't need any outside assistance at all. Him being the only alpha that hangs around you on a day-to-day basis and consistently touching you has not made the thoughts any better than they were before, but you forced those damn heinous ideas in the back of your mind every time. Bothersome they were and you tried to not let it get to you as much as possible.

Reiner nodded slowly, closing his eyes. "Well if you do get into a heat, I'm available for use."

You gasped, quickly jabbing your elbow into his side, causing him to flinch from the feeling and laugh almost aloud in the quiet library. "God, don't say that here!"

"It's true! There's a line-up of omegas that need help through their heats, I'm not the only one that's getting something out of it. They need a knot and I give it to them." You don't know why but hearing him admit that made you almost freeze and feel your stomach drop. Every time you're reminded of his reputation, something in you twists in an unpleasant way. It's strange. You have no reason to feel this way when you don't even like him in any romantic sense.

"I'd rather not hear about your many conquests, thank you very much." His eyes connected to yours and you tried not to pull away, trying not to feign anything that would give you up.

"Don't tell me... You're jealous, aren't you?" He teased as his grin grew wider and you scoffed, closing the textbook almost a little too hard.

"Please, as if! I'm not the one here insinuating into starting something." You huffed and tried to disconnect your body from his to put the book away but he didn't let you, his arm holding you around the crook of your back firmly.

"I never mark them, if that makes you feel better. No matter how much they beg me to, I don't. I'm pretty good at controlling myself."

You paused, the heavy stone in your stomach still dragging you down. He sounded honest about it and any omega that he marked would've bragged about it for years to come. Hell, you wouldn't even be as close as you were with him right now if that was the case. Yet, the admission didn't make you feel any better and you'd rather not praise him for something so bare minimum.

"...I really, really don't care Reiner. You can fuck anyone you want silly and it's none of my business. I'm not your mate and you're not mine." His eyes softened, looking at you so fondly that you almost wanted to take back every word you had just said.

"We could be."

Time stopped. The way he said it so nonchalantly made you feel absolutely breathless, like you were punched so deeply in the gut. You so desperately wanted to kiss him in that moment — say fuck it, why not be his mate for the rest of your lives — but that was nothing but the godforsaken omega in you talking. This wasn't some cheesy romcom movie, this was real life. Why in the world would he think there was a possibility that he’d be your mate? The two of you barely knew each other besides the light-hearted chats you’ve had together, he only liked your presence because like every other omega, you were easy.

No matter how long you stayed up at night thinking about him or how much you desired pressing your body against his at all times, you would not sacrifice your future for him. You were trying to be more than just your sub-gender and more than solely becoming an alpha’s eventual trophy wife. Being with him would only complicate things. There was nothing he could do or say would change your perspective.

As you stood up with your stuff, you told him as firmly as you were able to make it without your voice wavering.

"No, we couldn't."

It felt like it was you trying to convince yourself otherwise.

You’d do anything to not be the one watching his heart break right in front of your eyes, his mood changing almost immediately. He tried to look away from you but you saw the deep disappointment reflecting in his irises. The softness they once held hardened up once he realized what he was feeling, trying hard to swallow back the pain. The change of his smell washed over you in waves, a cold melancholy hitting the back of your throat while a burning anger bit at the pit of your stomach at the same time. It wasn't like him to be so distraught with a simple rejection, maybe you were the first one that didn't immediately fall for his charms.

Maybe, just maybe... it should've been you that had gotten rejected instead. Perhaps it would've made you feel less awful about it.

"Yeah, sorry. I… I don’t even know why I said that. Why would I even choose yo— No. Wait. Fuck, I—" Reiner cleared his throat quickly and stood up himself, ready to get out of the situation he put himself in. He was backpedaling, you knew he was, but it didn’t make you or him feel any better about the situation. He really was not used to rejection, huh?

"Let's... let's forget all that. There’s a party going on in Delta Kappa Theta tonight. If you want to come, come. I don’t want you to keep preventing yourself from having fun." The way he still cared about you first made you feel like you were the complete piece of shit here. No matter what though, you didn’t owe him a relationship or situationship or whatever you two have.

You partially nodded anyways, a squeak of an ‘okay’ barely escaping you as you watched him walk away. Every step that he took made you feel even less sure about what you just did, but it was for the best… right?

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

It was the first frat party you’ve ever been to and as you approached the house, you knew that it was going to be way out of your comfort zone. You wanted to go back to your safe and warm dorm, make up an excuse to go to bed early, but Reiner was right, you shouldn't be cooping yourself up for so long without any other interaction besides him. You slowly took in a deep breath, tugging at the seams of your jacket before entering the house, music blaring in your ears and bright lights hitting your eyes as soon as you opened the door.

Find Reiner, find him. Your omega begged you as you shuffled through drunk and dancing bodies, but you ignored it. Would he even want to see you after you rejected him?

Someone tapped you on the shoulder and you turned towards the person, eyes wide with shock.

"Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you," Another alpha, his clean rain-like scent faint from the amount of alcohol in the air. He was extremely tall but folded his body within himself while holding a red solo cup, and his black hair was in desperate need of a new haircut, nearly covering the tops of his eyes. The man didn't seem to present himself like an alpha, his demeanor certainly different to the ones you've met and seen before. "You smelled like my friend and the lights are way too bright so I thought you were him, so sorry again."

He looked vaguely familiar but it seemed that he recognized you first, his mouth suddenly agape. "Wait. Aren't you the girl that Reiner keeps talking about? Uh... sorry. What was your name again?"

"Y/N, nice to meet you. Reiner... mentioned me?"

He kindly smiled and nodded, holding out his hand for you to shake. "Bertolt and you have no idea. You're basically all he wants to talk about recently."

It felt like your heart skipped a beat, butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. You really had that much of an effect on him? You felt partially proud that you, a complete nobody, managed to get him head over heels for you. The other part felt horrible, you didn't mean to lead him on like that to the point where he started bringing you up to his friends. It seemed that Bertolt realized what he said was causing you to get upset, pulling you towards the kitchen.

He quickly scooped up some liquid from a punchbowl and poured it into a new cup, handing it over to you. "Here. A drink might make you feel better."

You weren't new to drinking, only having it a few times casually here and there so you took a quick sip, a smooth burn going down your throat. You coughed lightly and shook your head, hearing him chuckle. He leaned against the countertop beside you, swirling around the cup in his hand.

"Bertolt?" You hated how small you sounded, trailing your fingertips against the ridges of the plastic cup.

"Hm?" He started to take another sip out of his drink, raising it up above his head.

"I don't know if he told you this already but I rejected him this afternoon." The sound of him choking and hacking followed suit immediately after you confessed, a spew of apologies running out of your mouth as you patted his back to get it all out. He definitely didn't tell him yet.

Once he managed to finally stop clearing his throat, he wiped his mouth and turned towards you, eyes wide. "Why did you?"

You bit the inside of your cheek and took another quick sip. "I told him that I wasn't looking for a romantic relationship or sex, all I want to do is focus on is passing my classes and graduating. That's the complete and honest truth."

His friend stayed quiet for a bit until he nodded once, as if he understood your reasoning.

"That's fair, you should be able to pursue what you want to do for your life instead of tending to his needs. It's hard out there for omegas and it's great that you're doing more for yourself. I know Reiner really does actually like you, but you don't have to pursue anything with him if you don't want to. You control what you get to do."

You felt flushed from both the alcohol and his words, you've never met an alpha that shared such a considerably controversial opinion before. You quietly thanked him, watching him tilt his head up towards the ceiling, sighing softly.

"Reiner... I've known Reiner since middle school and fuck, he has his moments where he tends to be a shitty guy, even long before he presented as an alpha. He's stubborn as hell and rarely listens to us and he's occasionally a great guy to be teamed up with, but inside, I know he's just trying to figure himself out."

"What do you mean?" He flinched, beginning to sweat bullets as he nervously fidgeted next to you.

"A-ah, sorry. I don't know if I should be telling you this since you're also his friend but," His pale eyes darted side-to-side, as if he was making sure that no one was listening. "Every omega he's been with, he calls all of them 'practice' for his fated mate. Everyone knows that having a fated mate is super, super rare but since he met you, well..."

He nervously tugged at the hem of his shirt but you immediately knew what he was saying.

"No." You awkwardly started laughing, shaking your head quickly. The house immediately felt even more stuffy and overbearing, a nauseating feeling overcoming you all of a sudden. Omegas being used as practice? Were you just another practice target if the relationship didn't work out?

"N-no, he doesn't seriously think that I'm his fated mate?"

Bertolt sharply inhaled through his teeth, eyes locked to the ground. "Reiner was always hopeful he'd find his second half and you've been the only omega he speaks so positively and constantly about. He mentioned the day you guys met, how your pheromones enticed him so much that he nearly kissed you and he wanted nothing more but to have you as his mate after that. Ugh, sorry. Even saying it out loud makes me feel gross."

You felt sick, numb. Were you even friends from the start or was all of his actions just some kind of courting method? You could barely hear yourself tell Bertolt that you had to go, fumbling a goodbye and an apology to him before pushing yourself into the crowd. The sea of people felt like it was getting more impossible to navigate the more you moved in it, a tight feeling building in your chest from being overwhelmed by every little smell and sound all around you.

Get out.

GET OUT.

When you finally managed to push through and find the front door, your blood ran cold immediately. Like a deer frozen in front of oncoming headlights, you couldn't believe what you were staring at. Every part of your body screamed in complete anguish and devastation but you couldn't move. You had no right to, but you couldn't stop your tears from rapidly falling down your cheeks.

Reiner Braun, sitting down on the couch with some stranger on his lap, tracing his hands down their back, and pulling them closer to his body.

Reiner Braun, kissing down their neck, the peaks of his canines just barely scraping against their scent gland.

Reiner Braun, basically publicly grinding himself against this willing participant of his.

His eyes opened half-lidded and in some cruel form of fate, locked onto yours. Out of everyone in the room, he managed to find yours. He pulled away from the omega, a strand of drool still connecting between them. His hand still rested comfortably on the curve of their back, his mouth uttering only one name with wide eyes.

"Y/N...?"

All you could think as you finally snapped out of it — running out of the fraternity until your lungs felt like they were being ripped to shreds — was how bad you felt for that omega. How they were only going to be reduced into something so demeaning, a dummy-run to find his perfect mate. They didn't deserve that, being wide-eyed and hopeful that because he decided to choose them for his lustful pursuits, they're finally worthy of being a candidate of his.

You sobbed aloud as you washed and scrubbed your body red once you reached your dorm, trying to erase every scent and touch he made for the past couple of months. He was nothing more but absolute filth and you fell for it like a fool, a stupid brainless omega. You thought you were better than that but no, you were just like the rest of them. Even if you were his so-called fated mate, why did he continue to seek out others? Wouldn't he have tried to abstain? Sure, you shouldn't have expected that much out of him considering that you didn't even accept his confession but for some reason, it still hurt.

Fuck Reiner Braun. You should've never forgotten that in the first place.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

Now you were here, leaving the messy history of the second year behind and now moving onto your third. Always look to the future, as they say. You took a lot of preventatives in avoiding seeing Reiner, the plan nearly as extensive as your studying.

You blocked his number once he started to keep calling over and over again ever since the party, blocking the new ones that came every so often and changing your number once you couldn't take it anymore. There was no reason for you to hear his explanation, it's his business on who he decides to fuck and you shouldn't be mad about it anymore. Part of you was afraid that if you hear him explain himself, you'd run right back to him just like every other omega he had a finger wrapped around.

You stopped frequenting areas you used to hang around in, which was unfortunate since some of those places were your favorites. You moved dorms, avoided places he frequented, and made sure he wasn't in any of your classes. Your majors were luckily too different to be in the same buildings or rooms, and with the help of Bertolt, you were always one step ahead of him.

He was the one that approached you first in one of your classes together at the start of the new semester and taught you the ways in how to avoid meeting up with him. You didn't know why his best friend wanted to help you and once asked him, getting the answer that Reiner hasn't been himself recently and he was afraid that he might do something rash if he managed to find you.

"You have so much ahead of you, I’d hate to see Reiner make you throw it away."

Bertolt made sure that he wasn't seen with you whenever the two of you hung out, and when he was with him, he made sure to steer clear of your direction with a simple text. He had to bathe immediately after just in case your scent got on him, which should be nonexistent but he was afraid that if there was just the vaguest trace on him, Reiner would hound him about it. He basically became your bodyguard whenever it was possible for him to do so, and you didn't even ask. You've never felt so grateful meeting someone like him before.

He also brought up that Reiner's been playing more rougher than usual, and snapping at others even when they're on his side of the team exercises. Even the coach was too afraid to say anything about his behavior, relying on him and a few others that were friends with him to talk to him about it.

"It sounds like he's in a pre-rut." You mentioned, handing over the pickles from your sandwich over to him. He took them with an open palm and threw them into his mouth like chips.

"I hope not, his scent smells the same so far but he rarely gets into ruts for me to really know what he smells like. Plus, he never knows how to handle them well."

"Reiner doesn't choose any of the omegas he messes around with for his ruts?" Bertolt shook his head, swallowing.

"Not at all. It's weird, he may mess around with them during their heats but he never, ever lets them in when he's going through a rut. Think it has something to do with the fated mate mentality he has, but sometimes we don't even know he was ever in one until they're over, he basically disappears for a week or so."

It’s funny in a weird way. The two of you were hiding each other from behind Reiner’s back as if the two of you were dating. Even though the two of you became close, your relationship with him was nothing romantic. Some kind of bro-code would've been broken between Reiner and Bertolt if you started dating him, and you'd be eating your own words from what you've said to Reiner. Then again, you never wanted to date him and tolerated his looming, clingy presence on most days.

Bertolt told you that he liked someone but was too afraid to make any move. She was another alpha and one of his friends, so the pairing itself had its controversies. He kept saying that his confession might ruin what they had for years and he was satisfied being in her shadow. It was sad to hear him put himself in second place for her happiness. So you tried doing a little nudge for him to go for it — 'the worst she can say is no' kind of talk — because it was better for him to say something than nothing at all and still quietly pine for her. Bertolt got too excited and rushed in with the confession after one of his practices without your knowledge, a messy bouquet of roses tightly gripped in his hand.

There was a few word texts that he sent to you after the whole ordeal:

Didn't get accepted.

Heartbroken.

Bar.

You found him standing in front of your dormitory building waiting for you, awkward looks of both omegas and betas glancing at him. As you approached him, he took a few steps towards you and almost collapsed in your arms as you held them outstretched. His tears and snot quickly dampened your jacket, his body wracking out heaves of anguish. There wasn't an alpha in the world that you've seen so vulnerable before, his fists gripping your clothes tightly as he shook in sadness.

He started telling you what had happened once he somewhat composed himself, his voice weak and crackly as the two of you walked to his chosen bar. Unfortunately, she turned him down and told him that she was actually interested in some beta from Paradis Tech named Armin. You could only imagine the bouquet dropping to the floor in dramatic fashion, tears welling up in poor Bertolt's eyes. She apologized and somewhat comforted him by saying that his confession won't change anything between their friendship. That was good, at least on her side.

You started consoling him, rubbing his back in circles as he drunkenly wept on the polished wood after downing one too many tequila shots. The speed in which he drank each one was shocking to say the least, you don't think his glass touched the table since he picked it up.

"We've known each 'ther shince we were kitss." He hiccupped, head resting in-between his arms as he tearfully stared in the distance and dangled the shot cup in his fingers.

"If I shaid sumnthin 'ears ago, would she hab 'ccepted me — or or or — shill reject me because of awer shub-genda?" You pitifully stared at his crumpled form, not knowing what to really say to make him feel better about the situation. The bartender then took his glass from Bertolt and told you to take the poor guy home, shaking his head slowly as he quietly whined about getting cut off.

"C'mon big guy, let's get you back."

The walk was quiet besides the occasional sniffle and you could tell he was trying not to fall on top of you, his feet slowly dragging on the concrete. As the designated sober friend, you were carefully observing him, a hand firmly holding the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He stopped suddenly, the sounds of his sneakers squeaking.

"Y/N."

"Hm?"

You turned your attention towards him, tilting your head to the side.

"If I wazzn'tin love wif Annie, I'd be sooooo in love 'ith—"

Bertolt then jolted to the side of an alleyway before he could finish what he was saying and started throwing up. It prompted you to quickly go by his side and hold him up, patting hard on his back to get it all out. You knew what he was going to say and you hated it. He's drunk and sad, nothing that came out of him was going to be honest.

"Don't say that Bertolt." You mumbled, lifting him back up once he finished and slinging his arm over your shoulders.

"I'm not going to be a replacement for you."

He reached over with his other hand, skin cold around the nape of your neck as he pulled your face towards his. You could smell the alcohol lingering in his breath, face cringing when you saw a bit of spittle still hanging off of his lips. He started saying something even more incoherent, his eyes beginning to close in hints of slumber.

"No, no, no. I... I swer'lve ewtoo."

You laughed softly as you shook your head in amusement, pulling him forwards. He really won't remember this at all. Bertolt finally fell silent, the occasional drunken groans slipping through if you tugged him too roughly.

Maybe in another world, if you had met Bertolt before Reiner...

You made the decision to take him to your dorm. The dormitory building was way closer than the frat house he lived in, and you'd rather not lug around his heavy body another ten blocks to get there. Never in your life you had thought you'd be sneaking in a giant of an alpha into the shared beta-omega dorms, but you wouldn't be the first to do so. It's a good thing his scent was currently dulled with alcohol or you'd be in more trouble trying to hide him. Quickly unlocking your door and taking him over to your loveseat, you watched as his body slowly relaxed into the cushions.

He was simply way too tall for the seating, his legs dangled off of the side of the couch as you adjusted him to a positioning that would prevent any risk of asphyxiation if he started throwing up again. You highly doubted that he had anything left in him, but it was good to be on the safe side. You lightly pinched his cheek, getting a change of clothes and headed towards the bathroom.

You checked on him once more before going to bed, a light snore coming out of him. Seems like he's all tuckered out and okay for now, the hangover is definitely not going to be pretty in the morning. You settled yourself into your sheets and turned the lights off, soon falling asleep.

The sound of your alarm on your phone blared in your ears, arms trying to pull out from underneath the blanket to turn it off but you didn't move an inch. Groggily opening your eyes, you saw an arm wrapped around your body, your mind not registering what was going on until you heard the soft sounds of breathing on top of your head. You turned your head slowly to the couch, the connection finally being put together when you saw his body wasn't lying there.

He started to rouse from his sleep when the alarm kept sounding off, an annoyed hiss slipping through his lip as his head lifted up from yours, reaching over himself to shut it off.

"Good morning big guy." You whispered as he settled back next to you, lightly squeezing you closer to him as if you were his pillow.

Bertolt grumbled quietly. "What time is it?"

"According to my alarm, maybe 8:05 in the morning." You tried to get up to get him water and something for his headache, but he didn't budge an inch. The two of you laid with each other, basking in the morning warmth quietly.

"Sorry for getting in bed with you, I tried finding a blanket but didn't want to wake you up."

"It's fine," You hummed quietly, turning your body towards him. "You okay though?"

He opened his mouth but closed it, falling silent as he slowly began to think. He turned on his back, staring at the white ceiling.

"Not really. Everything still hurts and I'm tempted to cry even more but... I don't know. Some part of me feels... relieved? If I never told her, I'd still be stuck in a loop worrying whether I'd ruin something between us and keep having this twist in my stomach whenever I see her with someone else. I'm glad that she found someone that she's happy with but..."

Bertolt put his forearm over his eyes, letting out a soft laugh.

"But why do I still want her?" His voice cracked, a tremble following the end of his words and once more, you wrapped your arms around his torso. You could smell his sadness, a heavy and misty petrichor filling the room in waves.

"Sometimes there's things that we desperately want to have but can't have. Irrational as it is, it's in our nature." You mumbled, your hands balling up in his sweatshirt.

"Like you with Reiner?" Your blood ran cold as he said that but you merely pushed your face into his body.

"I don't know."

In the end, Reiner managed to find you and ask you to his game. You texted Bertolt, asking how was he able to get your location after being almost MIA for months. Apparently when you and him finally snuck him out of the dormitory, it completely slipped his mind that he had to wash off like usual. When he entered the frat house, Reiner greeted him but stopped midway, quickly approaching him and grabbing his shirt collar roughly.

He demanded me to tell him where you were. I'm so sorry Y/N, I couldn't stop him and our team needs the both of us playing.

You stared at the text, almost throwing your phone in frustration. You should've said no, had firmly stood behind your decision. Yet, the second his pheromones reached your nostrils, you couldn't stop yourself from agreeing, even if you were trying to look angry at him. You've noticed it had gotten stronger than before, was it because you haven't seen him in a while? You couldn't even be mad at Bertolt, you'd be terrified out of your mind too if an alpha was demanding an answer from you like that.

It's only for a few hours, you thought as you took in a slow breath. After that, he'll finally leave you alone.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

Reiner picked you up earlier than usual. It was about 5:10 when you heard a knock at your door, causing you put down the lip gloss before you even could apply it. Shuffling over and peeking through the peephole, you saw him standing there in a suit and tie. He cleaned himself up, the stubble he once had when he found you was completely shaven away and his blond hair was slight slicked back with gel.

"You're early." You muttered as you opened the door, keeping it barely ajar. He's not even supposed to step foot in the dorm, nervousness crawling up your spine. His pheromones hit you like a train, practically everyone that was walking down the dorm hallway could smell him, heads turning in your room's direction.

"I wanted to see you." He grinned, pushing the door open even more — nearly knocking you over — and handing you a bouquet of morning glories, camellias, and forget-me-nots. As you were staring at the mostly red flowers, almost a complete eyesore with the addition of the light blue petals that peered out from within, he waltzed in your safe haven without your permission.

"Hey! Reiner, you can't just—!"

You groaned as you exasperatedly followed after him, placing the bouquet down on your desk. His form was absolutely massive compared to the entire room, his head constantly turning towards the different decor that you hung up on the walls.

"I've never seen your dorm on the inside before, it's cute. It's... you." He softly mumbled, your face turning warm. You grabbed his sleeve, trying to tug him out of your space so you can get ready, but he stopped in the middle of the room, his attention honed in towards the messed sheets of your bed.

"Reiner," You started, your eyes following to where he was looking at. Your heart nearly stopped in your chest when you smelled a burning anger occupy the space — a smoldering, cindering scent — nearly making you cover your nose from how horrible it was. You gulped, hand slipping out and down to your side in a fist. "Reiner, w-we... we didn't do anything."

He just stood there silently, still focused on your bed. He has every right to be angry, you were literally snuggling with his best friend this morning, but you didn't belong to him. Scummy as it was, you made your bed and laid on it, there was nothing he could change about it.

"I-I'm just going to get ready." You whispered, turning around to go back into the bathroom. Big mistake.

Large hands grabbed your wrist, dragging you around in a speed that you couldn't comprehend. You almost screamed as he threw you on the bed, Reiner following after you and trapping you beneath him, his leg in-between yours. Fear was pouring out of you in waves but he couldn't smell it, no one could.

It took him little time and effort for him to press his lips against yours, your eyes wide as you soon realized what he was doing. You tried moving your mouth away, a scared and little no slipping out but he caught you again, his hand gripping your chin and forcing your head to stay in place. You tried pulling at his suit, squirming and kicking your legs, anything to get this monster off of you, but he didn't budge, seemingly finding enjoyment in your weak attempts as he pressed himself deeper against your lips.

His knee nudged at your cunt, a muffled, surprised gasp coming out of you, letting him enter your mouth even more. A shiver ran up your spine as you felt his tongue run against yours, the wet muscle violating wherever he went in a meticulous fashion. You could barely breathe, the smell of him and the aftershave he had on was so intense that you could feel the tug of your omega side slipping through the cracks of your mind; not even your medication was able to stop you from feeling this way.

Reiner finally pulled away, a mix of each other's saliva connecting the two of you. Strands of his gelled back hair fell over his forehead, your once-brushed out hair tousled into a mess. Both of your breaths were uneven and heavy, his eyes low and dazed as he stared down at you. Tears were running down your face, ruining what you've already put on, your eyebrows scrunched together in absolute horror as you shared the same stare with him. He sniffed the air once, again and again as he neared your neck.

"Stop, stop, stop." You cried out as you pushed against his stubborn head, fearing that he would bite down on your scent gland.

He didn't make any move, only sniffing at you like a curious dog. He then pressed his lips against it, causing you to abruptly stiffen in horrid expectation.

There was no pain as he pulled away from you, your hand immediately shooting to your neck to feel for any welts or marks. Nothing. A simple kiss was all he did on it, and you couldn't help but feel appreciative that he didn't mark you.

"Don't you dare see Bertolt ever again, you understand?" He hissed into your ear, the threat echoing hollowly in your head. No way in hell were you going to listen to him, but the omega in you nodded slowly, his heavy body finally lifting off of you. You tried to ignore the imprint straining against his lower half, your eyes staring up at him in complete shock.

"Go get yourself ready."

Shakily getting up on your feet, you beelined towards the bathroom without a single word, nearly collapsing on the floor once you turned the lock. As you looked at your face in the mirror, dripping dark drops of mascara and eyeliner stained the apples of your cheeks. The lipstick that was once there, was now rubbed away, leaving nothing but your bare lips. Your hand trembled as you reached over for a makeup wipe, a quiver of a sigh coming out of you.

You wanted to throw up, get every bit of spit and slobber of his out of your system, but you couldn’t. He’d hear you.

Reiner brought one of his jersey's for you to wear once you came out of the bathroom with fresh casual makeup back on, and you could tell that the article was completely drenched in his scent. You sniffed at it gingerly as you held it in your hands, cringing away from the sweet vanilla smell.

"What? It's clean, I promise."

"Liar." You mumbled under your breath but pulled it over the shirt you wore, the fabric loose against your body. He took a quick minute to admire you in his clothing, placing his hand on your cheek and stroking the skin with his thumb. You could still see the red stain of your lipstick smeared on his lips, trying to fight back tears and a sneer.

"You look so fuckable right now," You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched the tip of his tongue licked across his bottom lip, the darks of his pupils reflecting an unhinged licentiousness that horrified you within every atom in your body. "Maybe tonight, when I win, I'll be getting another trophy."

"Don't forget our deal asshole," You finally spat out, ripping his hand off of your face in disgust. "I'm only going to your stupid game because of the promise you made this morning."

Reiner simply stared down at you, your nerves scrambling even worse than before. He finally scoffed, crossing his arms. "Right. Our deal."

You hated the fact that he basically was acting like he didn't just forcefully kiss you, your nails digging into the palm of your hand. "Can we go now?"

He checked his phone, huffing slightly. "Yeah. Don't worry, we're not that far to the stadium. Just a few traffic lights and we'll be there."

You felt all the color drain from your face. You thought it was close by in walking terms but now you had to be in a small space where it now completely smells like him? Might as well hold your breath the entire ride.

The short drive was quiet, some random old rock station was lowly playing on the radio, but the two of you didn't speak to each other. What would even be exchanged anymore? You didn't want to be associated with him so long as you walked on this planet. Reiner's fingers thrummed on the wheel, red spilling into the car and staining every surface within. He turned towards you as if he wanted to say something and you stared back, a chill running down your spine. No words were said, but you felt every little thing from his smell.

Ravenous, a voracious appetite for the predator in disguise. Right in front of him, a five-course meal just ripe for the picking. All he's doing now was waiting for you to back into an inescapable cliff, the perfect moment to finally strike.

"...You have to go." You whispered and he finally broke eye contact, staring at the traffic light above and accelerating.

"Yeah, right."

The silence once presumed until the two of you approached the stadium, him mentioning that he got you a seat near the rink so you could see the action up close. To be honest, you could care less about the game and who would win overall. Reiner handed you the ticket between his index and middle finger, but when you reached over to grab it, he took it back.

"Need a good luck kiss from you first. If this is the last time I'll get to see you, I want to make it last."

You didn't want to rile him up before he played or make him force his hand upon you in the car, so you planted a quick kiss on his cheek before grabbing the ticket from his hand simultaneously. "Okay. Done. Good luck or whatever."

You scrambled out of his car, making your way to the inside as soon as possible. The arena was louder than you thought once you stepped foot, the joyous chatter and screams echoing throughout the hallways. LED screens hanging from the ceiling flashed the words Marley Warriors vs Paradis Titans, showing the line-ups of each team member.

Reiner came first in the centers, his pose prideful and boasting with stats to match. The other three names that you noticed were Porco Galliard, Colt Grice, and Eren Kruger. You eventually saw Bertolt come up as one of the right wingers but no sign of his usual reserved side showed in his photo, he looked focused and tough more than anything else. One of the goalies was an older looking individual by the name of Zeke Jaeger, confident but not too boasting. Clips of their past games showed afterwards, showing their amazing teamwork and impressive previous goals, then moving on to the other team.

The main centers for the Paradis Titans were composed of four men; Eren Jaeger, Jean Kirschtein, Levi Ackerman, and Miche Zacharius. Was the Eren guy related to the other Jaeger on your university's team? They definitely didn't look alike in your opinion but it could simply be because of a crazy Punnett square. Some wingers and defensemen that you sorta paid attention to were Armin Arlelt, Hange Zoë, Floch Forster, and Connie Springer. The goalie on their team was a massive blond man named Erwin Smith, his photo exuding a powerful stance, maybe even more than your uni's goalie. You felt like Reiner's team might have some trouble facing them, their defense and attack seems pretty threatening.

You finally took a glance at your ticket, walking around trying to find the stairway for your seating. The smells of popcorn, melted cheese, and hotdogs filled your nose, but you didn't feel hungry at all, still sick to your stomach from what had happened earlier. Eventually you finally found where you were supposed to go, and if you thought it was loud in the other shell of the arena, finally stepping in the seating area and the rink was absolutely ear-breaking.

Sirens, music, screaming, loud announcers. Almost every unbearable sound was contained in the structure, you should've bought earplugs prior to this. Not to mention, every scent of maybe hundred alphas and omegas intertwined made you feel even more overwhelmed, a headache beginning to form.

It's only for a few hours, a few hours and you'll never see this place or him ever again.

Your seat was nearby Reiner's team, nearly in-between the other team as well, the other teammates chattering with each other. You've sorta recognized them, occasionally seen around campus and such. Heads and eyes of strangers from school nearby were somewhat turning towards you, even the team started to notice you walking up behind them. Your face burned up at the realization once you sat down. Shit. You had completely forgotten that you were wearing Reiner's heavily scented jersey, you might as well be showing off the mating mark that he could've made a few hours ago.

"Yo Braun's omega is here!" One of the team members called out and you almost hid your head in your hands in embarrassment. Oh God, don't say that.

"Y/N, you made it?" The most recognizable voice cleared your thoughts immediately, head perking back up with a wide smile.

"Bertolt!" You wanted to hug him but he recoiled back as if you were a stranger, his nose scrunching. Your face fell immediately, his gaze sinking down in shame when he noticed your crestfallen expression.

"Sorry, it's not you. It's... y'know. That." He nudged the bottom of the jersey with the end of his stick, a frown forming on your face.

"I know. He made me wear it." You frustratingly tugged at the fabric with one hand and he chuckled, ruffling the top of your head. You'd burn it on the spot if you could.

"I didn't make you wear anything babe, you've always liked wearing my clothes." The sound of his voice made you freeze in place, eyes wide as your head turned in the direction of where he was walking in. Bertolt followed suit, his hand retracting away from you as if you were suddenly a hot stove.

"I don't think I could follow up your end of our deal if you're not respecting my demands, omega." No. That was never part of the agreement. You just gave the okay so he'd get off your back about it. He genuinely couldn't be serious about not seeing Bertolt anymore, right?

"Don't be an asshole Reiner. She's not just an omega."

The blond scowled at his friend, shoving his helmet roughly against his chest. He pushed it off of him, staring the other down in a sneer. You've never seen Bertolt like this before, the usual rain smell he had was turning stormy and bitterly furious.

"Oh, I'm the asshole? I wasn't the one hiding my fucking mate from me for months and sleeping in her bed. Not to mention, what happened to Annie or did you get tired of another alpha that's better than you?" You internally winced for him, that was such a low blow. Bertolt looked stunned for a second, glancing over at you for a quick second, but he pushed his shoulder back roughly in return.

"Don't bring Annie into this Reiner, this is about my friend. Did you really think she'd let you — of all people in this school — mark her when you act like a conceited asshole? She's not your fated mate. You've proven that over and over again that she's going to be like the rest, you knotheaded fuck."

You gasped at the sudden insult, a vein nearly popping out of Reiner's forehead but he didn't say anything more, pushing past Bertolt and shouldering him roughly with a scowl. You didn't mean for them to start an argument with one another, the game hadn't even started and tensions were already high. The Paradis Titans team weren't hiding their amused stares, the Eren Jaeger guy whispering to the short haired, bowl-cut blond next to him; Armin, you think. The murmurs of strangers behind you made you feel sick, hearing the word knottease being tossed around, the horrid word directed towards you.

You started to apologize profusely once Bertolt turned towards you, but he simply held out a hand, patting your shoulder as you stopped.

"Don't be. Someone needed to say it to him, maybe this fight would finally clear his head."

"But the game Bertolt, I—" You started but he interrupted you once more.

"I don't give a shit about the game if you're the one being hurt. You matter more than hitting a puck around, okay?" If you weren't wearing Reiner's jersey, you'd hug him right now. He smiled and put his helmet on, leaning close to you to whisper something in your ear.

"By the way, don't listen to the jerks behind you. You're nothing like that, you're going to be something great." He backed away once the horn started, walking over to the entrance to the ice rink to join his team. Good luck, you wanted to say because if anything, he'll need it when he gets into the arena with a monster in tow.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

If you thought Reiner was bad in practice, his violent playstyle was nothing compared to when he's in an actual game. How on Earth this sport was approved to play for anyone, you had no idea. All you could hear was men yelling at each other and slamming each other to snatch the slippery little puck, fans behind you hollering just as loudly.

Both Reiner and Bertolt had seemed to forgive each other on the court, winning being the only thing on their minds. Just like in practice, they didn't have to say anything to get the point across, making passes and attempted shots whenever they had the slightest of openings. The two Galliards seemed to be more communicative with one another, defending the goalie whenever they could with short barks of commands. They were good but Eren Jaeger seemed to be the rookie ace of the Titans, managing to push through and score in the most impossible scenarios.

You could tell he was aggravating them, putting them in a corner while constantly taunting them with a one-liner or a smug smile as he scored. An angry alpha was something not to mess with and putting a whole group of them against other alphas who were mocking them for their failures? It's obviously an immediate recipe for disaster.

Intermission came around, the score against the Warriors by two. As the teams were talking to one another to plan out their next attack, you watched the Zambonis slowly smooth out the ice again. You paid no attention to them and their chatter, you wouldn't have made sense of it anyways.

"Hey," You looked around for the source of the voice and finally down, seeing bright turquoise-blue and a mess of brown hair standing below you. He smelled sharply fresh, like the first bite to a mint leaf and drinking cold water afterwards. It wasn't necessarily bad like most in the arena, just made your nose crinkle a little from the suddenness of it. "Eren Jaeger."

"Oh- um... Y/N. Aren't you supposed to be talking to your team?"

He waved his hand dismissively towards your statement, crossing his arms with a smile. "Nah, there's nothing else that's new with the planning. You, however, are the talk of the arena."

Your cheeks flushed warm, the temptation of burying yourself alive later on growing more and more, but you grimaced instead. "So what? You wanted to see if I'm what they say I am?"

Eren shook his head, taking a few steps closer towards you. "I'm not talking about the knottease comments, I'm talking about the Reiner Braun's mate comments. Is it true?"

"No! Of course not!" You exclaimed in shock, but the subtle-not-so-subtle glance downwards towards your attire seemed to make him doubt you otherwise. You tried defending yourself about it without revealing much about the twisted relationship you actually have with Reiner.

"This is just because he thinks he's claimed me and we've made a deal. I have no other choice."

"Is it now? Well then," He pointed towards himself with a thumb, his grin growing even wider. "When I win, wanna go on a date with me after this?"

How many alphas were gunning for you right now?! You knew that you took your suppressants today after Bertolt left your dorm so how come this was happening to you? The absolute balls on this man, especially since he was thinking that his team had already won. You wearily shook your head, you've had your fill of pestering alphas for the rest of your schooling life.

He looked dejected for a second but perked up immediately, the buzzer of the timer echoing throughout the arena. You thought that was that and began to turn your attention towards your college's team, but then he called out a 'head's up', tossing something in your direction. You caught it in surprise, looking in the palm of your hands and finding a keyhole shaped earring.

"Keep it! For the next time we meet!" Eren waved you goodbye and jogged over to his side of the team, high-fiving and chattering with his friends before putting a helmet on. You let a small smile slip out, he may be a little cute but there was definitely no way you were ever going to see him ever again. You safely tucked it into your pocket, finally looking towards the Warriors.

He was watching you. Of course. There was a livid look in his eyes, his brows scrunched even more in irascibility and his teeth were bared, perhaps even grinding together in this current moment. You paled at the thought of them sinking into your neck like some kind of rabid animal. Reiner was barely human anymore, you realize. Any loving gaze that he had before for you was nothing more but a dangerous hunger.

All you could hope was for the Warriors to win so he would be in a decent mood to finalize the goodbyes, and you'd pray for the Titans for the brutality that they're about to endure because of his horrid attachment to you.

The players slid into the ice once more, the deafening cheers of everyone growing louder and louder as the second half of the game was beginning to start. The referee smoothly made his way between the two masses of men, Reiner staring down coldly into the clear mask of Eren. Like a coin flip, the puck was thrown highly into the midst of them, their eyes following it as it made its way down to the icy ground.

Click.

In a snap of a finger, the sound of sticks bashed together once the puck bounced off of the surface. Like a choreographed dance, the rivals whirled with one another, swinging and twisting their bodies around in order to get ahold of the very thing that might as well be the trophy itself. The intensity of the game was now at an all time high that even you started to pay more attention to it, the hairs on your arms raising in anticipation.

The puck swung back and forth like a pinball, but the Warriors managing to catch up to a tie. It was starting to become a standstill again however, taunting chants coming out from the people in the stands, jeering at the anyone that opposed their team. Players were being switched out on both teams during timeouts but few remained on the ice, a tense aura between the three.

Reiner, Bertolt, Eren.

Bertolt took a few glances at his friend, tapping the end of his stick with his and seemingly started to exchange words with him from what you could see. Who knows what it was about; the game, the enemy team, you. He only lifted his fist up, letting the other return it in a similar gesture and that seemed to calm the black-haired male's nerves.

Reiner's eyes were lasered in on Eren for the most part, gripping the handle of his stick tightly and swiping it around on the ice as if he was practicing a shot. He was truly unrecognizable, a shell of the man that once followed you around like the world's most clingiest puppy dog. You knew he wanted to show-off, his pride was at risk to a girl that he believed he owned for months. Disgusting and typical.

Eren seemed the most lax out of all of them, leaning against the plastic border as fans behind him fawned over him. He seemed not to care about Reiner's burning glares at him, waving across the rink to seemingly you. He seemed nice, but it was obvious that he had more intentions than just wanting to befriend you.

The whistle sounded and the game began once more, the men skating themselves back to the middle. You checked how much time was left on the clock, ten minutes. Ten more excruciating minutes and you were going to be finally free.

" 'Round it now!" You could hear Reiner call out to Grice as he suddenly slammed his complete weight into enemy Jaeger, their eyes meeting as the others chased after the puck. They went after it as well once he recovered from the blow, but it looked like they started talking and you managed to spot a furious glint glazing over his hazel eyes.

He suddenly threw his stick out onto the rink, ripping off his gloves and grabbing Jaeger's shirt by the collar in frightening speed. Reiner was undeniably experienced with his punches, uppercutting him from below the mask. It toppled off of his head, falling to the ground with a crack, and Eren was stunned for a second, just for a single second. He was unable to completely process what had happened before the bigger male tackled him to the cold ground, the deafening sounds of heavy bodies slamming into the ice made the arena stand still.

The referee was too afraid to intervene but blew the whistle immediately, and hundreds of people watched the Reiner Braun brutally dig his knuckles into his face. Fresh crimson spilt down on the ice in splatters and you were forced to witness him weakly trying to stop him, protecting his face as much as possible to no avail. Bertolt immediately tried pulling him off of him, shouting at him that he needed to stop but it was like he was in a trance, almost attacking him in the process.

He finally was pulled off of Eren by the goalie of Warriors — furiously throwing his own punch into his face — and the poor boy having to be quickly removed from the rink on a stretcher. Reiner was pinned to the ground by multiple individuals and given a tranquilizer, his body soon relaxing and slumping over. They put him on a stretcher as well, his hands and legs bounded together and his mouth wrapped with a cloth rag. He was still slightly conscious, his calm and woozy stare meeting your horrified one.

The game had to continue without them but you had already left, not knowing the result. You felt too nauseous from smelling the sheer fear and panic that was coming of Eren, pungent and potent as it filled the air. But Reiner's...

All you could smell was that sickening warmth, a burning sensation in your nares. The same scent from your dorm but that's not at all what made you leave immediately. The sick fuck was happy he was beating into the defenseless guy, exhilarated that his blood was running down his skin and staining the floor, joyful. The nose doesn't lie and you wonder if everyone else caught it too.

Bertolt texted you when he visited Reiner in the hospital, but you didn't respond, busy trying to scrub the remnants of him out of your dorm while tears ran down your cheeks.

He did it for you.

368 notes · View notes

eddies-ashtray · 21 days ago

Text

YOUR HEART GOT TEETH!

Masterlist

Edit

Pairing: Kas/Vampire!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Your grief swallows you whole. And so will he. 18+ ONLY, minors do not interact.

WC: 7.0k

Content: Predator/prey (he basically hunts you in the forest), no use of y/n, kinda ooc Eddie cause he’s Kas/a vampire, discussions of grief/loss, somewhat detailed (but brief) description of eddie's scars (from the demo-bats), taunting/mocking, unprotected piv, rough sex, dirty talk, fingering, pussy pronouns, tiny bit of spit play, blowjob (kind of?).

A/N: I did a little research on Kas so some of his character is incorporated into this but I also took my own creative liberties. So this is not supposed to be a totally accurate depiction of Kas.

*gif source | *divider source 1 | *divider source 2

He must have been lurking in the murky shadows and fog clinging to the trees. Or maybe he was part of it—moving through the fog as the mist himself. Of course, you were initially ignorant to his presence, drowning in grief as you were.

The dense wood of the forest effectively dampens sound from beyond, making it easy to pick up on any snapping twigs or skittering up in high branches.

But he—it?—moved silently. Swiftly. Evading sight.

Then there was this sense. Like a sixth one kicked into gear, raising goosebumps on dewy skin. An overwhelming presence which immediately triggered your fight or flight response.

You should run. But you’d always been one to freeze. Vulnerable. Easy prey.

This time is no different. You don’t move a muscle, standing stock still in front of the large old tree stump. Staring down at the polaroid of that grinning face you miss so dearly, which lays among the trinkets and things left there by his little sheep and the band. All laid out nicely atop the stump, it’s many rings—some light, some dark—barely visible beneath the clutter. Though it will never spend another season growing additional rings.

With your heart slamming against your ribs and the blood rushing in your ears it takes you a second too long to regain control of your muscles. To flee this place–this crudely cobbled together memorial, unstained by public view & tampering.

So when you turn to leave, there he is.

You freeze. And you swear your heart stops pumping blood through your arteries. Terror taking over as your blood runs cold.

Moonlight slashes across half his face, illuminating one sparkling brown eye and a slice of that slowly spreading grin. Sharpened canines slide over dark lips, pleased to find you here.

Pinkish-red scars decorate his flesh, shredded skin healed unevenly, giving them this odd webbed effect. They begin at his jaw and crawl down his neck only to disappear beneath tattered clothing. His bat tattoo, your favourite, is present but marred by the deep scars where the demo-bats tore away at his flesh. The irony is not lost on you, but the sight is too grim to dwell on.

When he leans in closer you can smell him. An odd mimicry of Eddie. Different from before when his heart pumped blood through his veins. Something in your body naturally resistant to it, but simultaneously lured to him—an unadulterated pull. With every erratic inhale you crave more, like a smoker greedily sucking nicotine into their lungs.

You loathe to admit its intoxicating effect. Because this—this thing—can’t be Eddie. Not your Eddie. But some spectral version, warped by the mirror world.

It’s only when he speaks that you have any sort of visible reaction to him at all. Like he could’ve been some figment of your interminable grief—unbelieving in him until his acknowledgment of you.

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

Stupidly, you gasp in surprise, stumbling backward, hand reaching out behind you for something to tether you to this earth because surely you must have gone mad.

The rough and textured feel of bark scrapes against the sensitive skin of your palm. Though it does little to ground you.

He moves swiftly toward you again, this bona fide creature keeping close, commanding the fog to shift around you. Invading your senses. That grin is ever-growing and increasingly self-satisfied.

You’re breathing hard, eyebrows scrunched together—confused, intrigued.

Though his scent is somehow subtly altered, his voice remains much the same, but with richer notes of darkness. An almost imperceptible difference. His tone differs too. It’s mocking, yes—not in the same playful way Eddie used to be—but it’s also curious, unfamiliar.

It presses the heavy implication over your heart that he doesn’t recognize you. How could that be?

The way he examines you reveals his unfamiliarity, though his eyes remain unchanged—the same shade of dark chocolate. And it is this which elicits an aching longing. One that burrows deep in your heart.

Though he looks like him. Sounds like him. And almost smells like him. It isn’t him. You know this to your marrow, like you know that the sun will rise tomorrow. It’s his body, yes. But not his mind. At least, not all of it. Clearly, it does not carry his memories.

When he reaches up, cold fingertips ghosting past your chest, your collarbones, your neck, you have to suppress a shiver. But the renewed goosebumps rising on your skin betray you.

His lips curl into a smirk, this one self-satisfied and hungry as the knuckle of his index finger grazes the sensitive flesh of your cheek. Try as you might not to, you flinch. He pouts at you mockingly, his touch unyielding.

“I could devour you, sweetheart,” he whispers, like the thought has only just come to him as his flesh met yours. Like it excites him to no end and sends the fresh scars pressed into his flesh thrumming.

“You won’t,” you say shakily, not because you know this, but because you’re hoping.

But your heart is beating out of your chest like a bunny that’s been caught between the sharp teeth of a fox, who knows it’s only a matter of time before its heart stops pounding and its blood ceases to pulse through its veins.

You wonder if he can hear it with the way his face twitches and he appears to stop and listen, savouring some near silent thumping. This has you suppressing another shiver.

Do you want him to devour you?

No.

You want him to try.

“I won't?” he retorts with a tilt of his head, his voice suddenly taking on a sharper quality. A dangerous edge to it like he’s responding to a challenge—provoked by the suggestion that he could be merciful.

He could tear you to shreds right here and now and you’d let him–couldn’t stop him. He wants to. You can see it in his eager gaze. While this incites deep seated fear, it’s also a thrill. Something which awakens you after the nightmare that the last few weeks have been. Spending your days sleepwalking, rather than living. You realize it’s the first time you’ve felt alive since he took his final breath in your arms.

He must see it in your face—as perceptive as he was in life.

“Watch me,” he spits. Watch me tear you apart.

You swallow, throat dry.

He leans in and you almost bear your neck to him, seemingly ready for him to take you from this earthly plane.

Suddenly, his gaze snaps sharply down to his left. Your heart lurches in your chest, stomach flipping as your eyes flit over his shoulder to the left. Then to the right. Has he heard something? Possibly, a presence that could put an end to this? Oddly, the thought does little to relieve you. Instead, panic surges—a need to keep him here with you, if only it will result in your end–burning bright in your body.

The treeline remains empty and dark, save for the still hovering fog choking the trees.

If you were going to escape, this moment offers an opportune window. But that panic of losing his presence keeps you as rooted against his chest as these very trees are to the ground.

Of course, you don’t hear it. The disembodied voice only falls on his sharp ears when it hisses, “She serves a grander purpose.”

His sword, sheathed in its scabbard, speaks. He is ever bound to its command, whatever it calls for.

Your eyes return to his—finding with a shock that his gaze has already fallen upon you again—when he speaks.

“A greater purpose than a meal?”

His gaze rests upon you, but the question is evidently not for you—who it is for, you may never know.

Whatever one-sided conversation he was having must yield unfavourable results because his jaw ticks and nostrils flare. Frustration, maybe even anger, bubbles behind dark eyes.

He must obey.

But he’ll still have his fun.

Eddie decides right then and there that if he cannot satisfy his blood lust for you—if he cannot indulge in his thirst—then he will instead seek to satiate an alternatively carnal form of hunger.

Drinking your blood is not the only method of sowing terror. There are other means. He can get creative.

He leans in then, teeth bared, and you catch his canines growing sharper, protruding further from his gums when he whispers, “I'll give you a head start…run.”

When he says it it’s like the forest goes silent. Like all those tiny, near undetectable noises cease when he speaks. It’s eerie the way you don’t notice them until they’ve quieted.

At that moment, you tear through the woods, blowing past his memorial. Leaves crunch and twigs snap underfoot. You’re the opposite of stealth. Something this Eddie seems to be well-versed in. You’re clumsy in your terror, easy prey.

Having spouted falsities, he gives you no head start, immediately tracking you effortlessly through the fog.

You ignore the stitch quickly cutting into your side and keep running. But your sense of direction fails you quickly, everything beginning to look the same–all looming trees, dappled moonlight, and menacing shadows. All you can do is keep moving forward.

Then there’s movement to your left.

Is your mind playing tricks on you? Morphing the shadows of great oaks in your periphery to resemble the creature that’s hunting you? Or is he right there, just waiting for the ideal moment to strike? Letting the fear build in your gut before he pounces.

You just need to keep moving.

One moment it sounds like he’s hot on your tail, but when you chance a look, he isn’t there.

There’s the quick scratching against bark like an animal hurriedly climbing a tree, traversing it as effortlessly as a duck floats on water.

But you can’t look again, unwilling to tear your eyes away from the winding paths to see him scaling trees. Just the idea raises the hair on your arms.

The road. Only a sliver of it, gently illuminated by a dull street lamp, is visible through the dense wood. But it’s there. Just a hundred feet or so ahead–freedom and safety coming into view.

Despite your terror though, your all-out sprint fades into a jog. Hesitating in the densest part of the forest.

You lost Eddie once. This would be like losing him all over again, wouldn’t it?

You crave just one more glimpse of him because running from him after weeks of yearning to hold him in your arms again feels wrong. But you know your grief is clouding your judgement, and a voice of reason pops up, telling you to run, go!

When you realize what he’s done–lead you into the densest part of the woods on purpose–it’s too late.

Your moment’s hesitance costs you.

He led you here so you could hardly revel in the warm embrace of safety before coldly tearing it from your grasp.

Nearly nose-to-nose, Eddie seemingly materializes from the mist in front of you. “Boo!”

“Shit!” You jump, falling hard onto the dirt floor of the forest. You groan–heart hammering and tailbone aching, just laying there, willing your heart to calm.

Then he’s gone. There, in terror-induced vibrant clarity. And then a vanishment so swift you can’t be sure he was ever really there to begin with.

Laughing darkly from somewhere above–a sinisterly, amused sound–you venture a hesitant look upward, into the dense branches above.

Eddie is in the tree. There, he crouches on a thick branch as he observes you with the tilt of his head. His curious smile seemingly glowing in the darkness with the top half of his face shrouded in shadow.

And then once again, he manifests by your head.

He’s more menacing like this. Always was taller than you. But from this vantage point he’s a leering predator appraising injured prey. An easy meal. He could make quick work of you.

“That stupid, huh?” he laughs as if the prospect is the most amusing thing in the world. “Thought you’d get away easy?”

He continues to taunt you as he stalks around you, now standing at your waist.

You try to raise up onto your elbows, but to no avail as searing pain shoots up your spine.

“Hm?”

It should be the last thing to spring to mind right now. But his tone strikingly resembles the condescending one Eddie would use in bed. When he’d ask: That feel good? Hm? And he knew it did.

It forces you to look at him—like Pavlov’s dog drooling at the sound of the bell. A conditioned response.

Eddie’s practically glowing in the soft moonlight.

He’s so…alive.

It chokes you up a bit. A lump forming in your throat as unshed tears sting your eyes. You tear your gaze from him, guilt sinking into your belly like an anchor in the ocean.

“Look at me,” he demands immediately, voice proud and controlled. Despite the guilt, you cannot reject your body’s reaction to him. It’s that tone. It sends shivers up your spine and warmth into your gut—a pleasant ache for something raw and intense.

You obey.

Maybe it’s the grief. The sudden loss of someone so dear. But as you lay here—bruised and tired, and gazing up at him—you don’t mind that he has no memory of you. He’s still right here, standing in front of you, isn’t he? You think you’re still trying to convince yourself.

You are a tangled, contradiction of feeling. Fear continues to nip at your neck while intrigue licks at your spine as you observe this freakishly orphic creature observing you. He’s…enchanting, captivating.

Eddie sighs deeply, gazing up briefly at the moon peeking through the leaves. It hangs bright above you, branches extended toward it, as though worshipping it.

The sound he makes is like savouring relief. Upon feeling the open air on his skin, thankful for the reprieve from the shadows that the moonlight brings. Though you can’t know this—that he is confined to the darkness for all eternity.

You’re finally able to push yourself up on your elbows–not without wincing–when he returns his gaze to you. Your breathing slows and deepens as another pleasant and warm feeling twists in your belly.

“What am I going to do with you?” he ponders sardonically, excitedly.

You find the answer comes out of your mouth without thought. Another involuntary response from your body.

“Anything.” It sounds so needy. Feathery, as your response floats off into the trees.

Were you crazy or desperate? Or maybe just so haunted by his ghost that what he is–what he’s turned into–is irrelevant? Whether he be an apparition of your own imagining or a real monster twisted by the mirror world. Maybe he doesn’t have Eddie’s soul. But he has his face. His body. Is it so wrong to want him?

When he leans over you, you whimper, “Please.”

He pouts at you in faux sympathy.

Is the mercy you seek defined by his departure? Or does your version of “mercy” mean letting him devour you like he’d promised?

When he flashes those pointed canines and a mischievous dimple carves into his cheek you have your answer. You no longer need to question or analyze your thoughts. You just want to feel.

As Eddie leans in and strokes your cheek with the back of his index finger, you press gently into his touch. Feeling warm all over, buzzing with electricity.

Strangely, you feel safe under his scrutinizing gaze. A crease forms between your brows as he leans in even closer. Your parted lips brush his tenderly. You might catch fire.

Just as your eyes fall shut in anticipation of his kiss—your first with him in weeks—you hear his humorous scoff. Your face heats as your eyes open to find him leaning back.

“Pathetic,” Eddie whispers.

“I-” you’re not sure what you’re going to say in your defence, but he cuts you off anyway, with a curt:

“Lie down.”

His hand is a firm pressure against the center of your chest, pushing you toward the ground after stooping down next to you. Your back presses into the cool dirt floor of the forest.

Will he devour you now? Take you without another word?

No. He isn’t done teasing you yet–another similarity between the human Eddie and the creature Eddie. Always itching to get you writhing and whining beneath him. Never satisfied until he could make you beg for it.

The hand that pushed you to the ground remains on your body, cold as it drags slowly down in quiet curiosity. As if feeling you for the first time, just getting used to the way your body curves and trembles beneath his touch.

Calloused fingertips just barely brush your tits on his way down, raising goosebumps beneath your top. When you gasp and arch into his hand imperceptibly, he pauses just as the rough skin of his palm ghosts over a sliver of your exposed belly, above your navel.

His eyes flit to your chest, only remaining there for a single inhale before returning to his hand which continues to skate painstakingly down your body. Studying you.

The path of his hand ends at the edge of your skirt, caressing the skin there with a tender touch. You have to bite the inside of your lip to keep from making an embarrassing noise. Not wanting to seem too desperate. Although you’ve probably already failed at that.

“Eddie,” you sigh, head lolling over to look up at him. He meets your gaze, hand curving over your hip.

Humming thoughtfully, Eddie tilts his head at you. Like you’re the one who’s become a creature. Morphing into a small thing, bursting with need and a deep desire to be taken care of.

All the while, his hand continues its path down until he meets the skin of your thigh where he squeezes the doughy flesh roughly. Like he can feel the thrumming of your veins beneath your skin, yearning to take a bite out of you.

“Oh, God.” Your skin tingles delightfully. A soft moan, as quiet as the sound of skin brushing against skin escapes your throat.

The barest hint of a satisfied smile cracks his features.

You may be so haunted by him that you’ll entertain this potential dream or nightmare, or whatever this is. But you are also undeniably desperate. To feel his touch on your skin again is transcendent. Like the very first time he touched you, it feels as though every single one of your nerves is exposed. Readily available for him to toy with.

Excitement courses through your veins, a drug only able to be injected by his hand, as it curves over your leg. Hand pressing into the flesh of your inner thigh, he squeezes again, his blunt nails scratching sensitive skin. He pushes them open, giving him the easiest access to slide his hand up your skirt.

When he finally tugs your panties down, and finds the soaked mess between your thighs, he releases a breathy, “Oh.”

Stroking his fingers through the mess, he says, “Look at this…”

Your hips flex when he dips gently into your dripping hole, collecting the sticky stuff before pulling his hand from you to put your desire on display.

When his now sodden fingers come into view, and he pulls them apart to show you just how wet you are, you whine high in your throat. Embarrassed that you’re this worked up when he’s hardly done anything to elicit your lust.

Thin lines connect his fingers, your essence seemingly sparkling in the moonlight as gentle waves of humiliation crash over you. Watching on as he savours the taste of you on his fingers, you huff impatiently.

The moment his hand returns to your heat, his fingers swipe through your wetness again, dragging it to your sensitive clit where he rubs his middle finger in a dizzying circular motion, the slide smooth. Upon the second circuit of his fingers, you’re gushing around him, getting wetter by the second. A fire blazes in your belly and your hips twitch, finding it difficult to remain still when he’s working you up so.

“Fuck, look at you. Could probably make you cum from just this,” he laughs, applying more pressure as he continues his torturous circles over that magic little button.

The lewd sounds from your pussy fill the still night air as the lustful haze in his eyes grows more determined–his teeth sinking into his bottom lip in concentration.

It’s all too much and on pure instinct your own hand wraps around the wrist of the hand up your skirt. That you’re still fully clothed—sans underwear—makes this feel all the more dirty. Let alone that you’re in the woods on the filthy ground, the exposed sliver of your back likely coated in a thin layer of dirt.

Though your grip is loose on his wrist, he doesn’t let you get away with it. Grabbing both of your wrists in his free hand, he pins them above your head.

“Stay,” he orders.

You watch helplessly as he presses his two middle fingers into your pussy, curving them on the first stroke. If this were months ago, and Eddie had you like this in his bed, you might think the squeeze he gives your wrists—bound by his own hand–was an act of reassurance. Now, you know it is solely an act of dominance. I have you at my mercy.

“Fuck,” you whimper. “Eddie…”

You forgot how nicely his fingers filled you. How you feel like a bright, burning star when he touches you like this. Deep and slow, like he’s forcing you to savour each stroke. How the tips of his fingers, longer than yours, caress parts of you that you couldn’t fathom. How he works in earnest to pull noises from you that you didn’t even know you could make.

The pace he sets is simultaneously torturous and delicious, his aim clearly being to tease and overwhelm. Tears burn behind your eyes as his thumb rolls over your clit and you whine, that familiar feeling slowly beginning to build in your belly. Like you’re on the incline of a rollercoaster.

“That feel good? Hm?” he asks with a syrupy tone as he watches you fuck yourself on his fingers like you’re in heat. With your hands pinned, it’s all you can do to writhe in his grasp.

“I-yes!”

You’ve never seen him more smug and satisfied.

“Yeah?” you nod furiously, mouth occupied by wanton moans. “I know, I know, baby…Know you’re dying to take my cock.”

A delicious heat twists in your belly. “Please!”

Before you reach the peak of your rollercoaster, he pulls his fingers from you, releasing your wrists simultaneously–though they remain above your head. You whine in protest, feeling suddenly cold and empty without a part of him inside of you. Though this feeling does not last for long as he moves quickly.

Eagerly, Eddie swiftly removes his scabbard and undoes his jeans and fly, shoving them down just enough to free his cock. It bobs, hard and leaking so much pretty precum your mouth waters for it. Beautiful as ever.

The sigh he releases when he strokes his dick is euphoric as he smears your wetness from base to tip. Already soaked with you. You shift your hips, fidgeting in place, impatient. Wishing it was your warm mouth encircling his girth instead of his own hand.

Just as quickly as he’d tugged his jeans down, he’s on top of you again, slotting himself between your thighs before flipping your skirt up. Getting his first proper look at you.

“Fuck, look at the mess you’ve made, sweetheart. All for me?” He says it like he’s mesmerized by the sight, eating up the way your body unabashedly calls for him.

Grasping himself at the base, he lines himself up, your breathing growing shallow and quick. Anticipating the feeling of him inside you, desperate to feel every ridge and vein. The warmth as he fills you.

You hold your breath.

Meanly, he paints the flushed red tip up and down your soaked folds, causing you to whine and writhe against him. When it glances your clit you gasp and your hips jump as white hot pleasure zips up your spine.

Your eyes are on high branches now, but you hear his low, satisfied chuckle. He wants for you to experience a unique kind of anguish before he rewards you for your perseverance.

You’re about to lose it completely when he smacks the head of his cock heavily against your clit. The sticky sound it elicits is vulgar. It forces your eyes to roll into the back of your skull and groan.

He is not merciful. But, eventually, he puts you out of your misery. A sharp inhale marks the moment he finally slides the first inch of his cock inside of you.

Bracing for the inevitable fullness and slight sting that comes along with it proves unnecessary as he does not nudge himself any further. It only takes you a moment to realize he’s still teasing and you release another low whine. Just his weeping tip penetrates your fluttering hole, making your head spin.

He is going to make you earn it.

“Jesus, it’s like she’s suckin’ me in,” he mutters under his breath in disbelief. “Beg for it, sweetheart.”

You don’t waste any time. Not a single second before you begin to plead with him, cutting him off before he gets the pet name out.

“Fuck me, Eddie! Need it so bad. So, so bad,” you mewl pathetically. “Please, please, please, please-” you might be embarrassed if you weren’t an absolute wreck, distraught on account of his teasing. Right on the edge of intense pleasure, feeling like you can’t take it anymore and might-

His cock sinks into you fully, not slowly but roughly. His heavy balls slap against your ass as he tugs your legs up to sheath himself even deeper inside of you.

Twin groans float into the air, his eyes locked on yours. His become impossibly dark, like the slow spill of black ink across a page. Pleasure explodes in your belly as stars seemingly explode in the night sky. You are a live wire casting sparks in every direction.

He is all that matters right now. The world could be ending around you, and you would be ignorant to it, lost in the feeling of his cock sliding home inside of you.

His large palms pin your thighs back, as close to your chest as they can stretch while he stretches you out on his cock. And, fuck, is it a stretch after all these weeks.

Your pleasure errs on the side of pain, but you savour it nonetheless and let him devour you. The sensations commingle and soon, you cannot tell the difference between the two. The pleasure is pain and the pain is pleasure.

On a particularly rough thrust, as his balls collide with your ass with a sharp smack, you cry out, moaning his name freely into the open air. The sound gets trapped in the thick trees, as do his groans.

For the first time since he pinned your hands to the ground, you wrap them around his neck, exploring his back, heavily textured by scars. Feeling the way his muscles flex beneath your hands as he continues to pound into you. Slowly, they find their way up into his hair, feeling his waves between your fingers. Somehow soft and knotted at the same time.

But he doesn’t let your hands roam free for too long before pinning them back above your head again, one palm still pressing firmly into the back of your right thigh. When you try to wrap your legs around his waist, he simply presses them back toward your chest, his throbbing cock reaching deeper inside of you as the obscene squelching sounds amplify.

Your own sounds rival the distant symphony of insects–somewhere far off in the meadow, the chirping crickets and singing cicadas are drowned out by your moans. The tiny creatures may as well be silent with how loud your wails have become. But how could you be quiet when you can feel him in your belly?

“Take it,” he growls, as if you are not laying here fucking yourself back onto his throbbing dick. Meeting his deep thrusts with your own, feeling his tip kiss your cervix and whining. “Tell me how good my cock feels inside of you.”

All you can do is whine and gaze up at him, barely registering his words as your heart unexpectedly swells at the sight of his gorgeous, pleasure-stricken features.

Every minute detail is identical to your Eddie. Every freckle–including the tiny one just below his eye. His cheeky dimples. The sparse trail of hair below his navel that you used to trail your tongue down, causing his hips to jump in response.

Predictably, you get lost in his beauty and the overwhelming sensations, barely recognizing when his hand abandons the task of binding your wrists. Abruptly, you are snapped back to the moment when that same hand lands a sharp slap to your clit. It only causes you to squeal, your pussy fluttering around his dick as the sting quickly merges into pleasure. You get more lost in the haze of dizzying pleasure-pain.

Realizing that he only succeeded in further blurring your thoughts, Eddie grasps your face in one large hand. He squishes your cheeks until your lips pucker, smearing your wetness across your face. “Tell me.”

Dizzying pleasure continues to cloud your mind, making it difficult to recall what he’s asking of you, let alone produce a response.

You must take too long to answer as he squishes harder, your teeth pressing harshly against the inside of your cheeks. The feeling borders on pain, causing you to whimper again as heat sinks into your belly.

With a jolt, you remember what his question was.“Tell. Me.”

He needs to know.

“It’s g-” you choke when he thrusts deep, kissing that sweet spot deep inside.

With the hand still gripping your cheeks, he shakes your head a little, like he’s trying to shake the thought free. “Huh?”

“Good!” you squeal. “L-love your cock!”

“You ‘L-love’ it?” Eddie laughs dryly, clearly enjoying the praise and the way you struggle to give it to him.

That sweet humiliation warms your chest, feeling almost as good as the way he presses inside of you. Hot and heavy.

You agree with a moan, lacking the wherewithal to respond coherently. When he removes his hand from your face, it travels to grope your tits greedily over your thin top. Arching into his touch, you close your eyes and revel in the sweet sensation.

His groans and the filthy sound of skin slapping against skin fill your ears as he repeatedly strokes that wonderful spot inside of you. Pleasure bursts in vivid colour behind your eyelids.

When his hand travels further down your body, middle and marriage fingers pressing into that tender bundle of nerves at the top of your cunt, your pleasure surges to new heights. The coil which has been tightening slowly while he fucks you threatens to snap.

Pace slowing in favour of deep, calculated thrusts, Eddie leans down to your ear. “Gonna make such a mess of you,” he whispers, sending shivers straight down your spine. The promise is like molten lava on your skin.

More reckless moans spill from your lips as he nips at your earlobe, then drags his teeth slowly down your neck. A reminder that he could easily sink his teeth into your flesh. It sends a thrill through your body–not unlike the one that licked at your spine as he hunted you through the woods.

“Promise?” you ask breathlessly. A fucked-out smile on your face.

He stares hungrily, longingly, at your neck for just a moment before returning to your eyes after registering your words. A challenge that quirks his brow.

Bracing himself with an elbow dug in the dirt, his pace quickens again as he works furiously at your clit. His rhythm is clumsy, but successful at continuing to send shockwaves of twisted pleasure through your body. His hips slam so hard against you that it would be unsurprising to find light green bruises pressed into your ass tomorrow morning.

You gasp, tossing your head back on a particularly deep and perfectly angled thrust. He dangles you over the cliff’s edge, keeping you on the precipice of release. It’s all you can do to tighten your hands into fists as you twist your them in his unrelenting grasp.

He doesn’t even have to ask you to beg this time. The pleas for release simply tumble out of your mouth with little thought. “Please! Gonna cum, Eddie! Please, please can I cum?”

Hot, overwhelmed tears threaten to spill over in anticipation of his permission. You doubt you’ll be able to hold on much longer with that perfect pressure on your clit and incredible fullness. His heavy panting indicates he isn’t far behind you.

“Cum all over my cock…Let me ruin you for anyone else.” He’s breathless as he says it.

It’s his words that inevitably shove you over the edge, pleasure swelling inside of you. Your clit numbs and you cry out, cunt clenching around him as you drench his cock. It is not a soft, gentle climax that graces your body, but an intense thing that seems to carry on forever.

“I love you,” you whisper into the cool night air, your body still twitching with your orgasm as tears slip down your cheeks. The phrase so easily blurts from you and it’s then that he groans and begins to spill inside of you too. Face pressed into your neck as he shoots hot spurts of cum into your cunt. Rope after rope of the stuff, warming your belly fulfillingly.

His thrusts slow and eventually stop as he collapses on top of you.

Aftershocks flow through you in raw, euphoric waves as you pant into his curls. A sated smile tugs at your mouth and you tremble against him, boneless when he’s done with you. A blissful giggle escapes your throat.

The both of you lay there for moments, just listening to each other’s heartbeats slow as the insect’s song replaces your moans. The moon gleams in the sky, spinning stars winking at you.

All too soon Eddie pulls away from your neck and observes the damage. You’re sure he finds he succeeded in making a mess of you. Your wetness still smeared across your cheek, hair completely mussed, and your bottom half covered in dirt as you draw in heaving breaths, still coming down from your mind-numbing orgasm.

There’s a small smirk that reaches his eyes more than his mouth before he tugs his hand from between your bodies. Lewdly, he shoves his two middle fingers between your lips. “Hmph!”

Once the surprise wears off and you cup his hand in both of yours, you allow your eyes to drift shut. The mild taste of your own cum pervades your mouth as he presses his fingers deeper. Your tongue swirls around them, sucking softly. He continues to test the waters, pressing in further until the pads of his fingers grace the back of your tongue, causing you to gag lightly around them. When he pulls them out, they’re wetter than before. He smears the spit over your cheeks, just as he had done with your wetness. An act of dominance which leaves you breathless and twists your stomach into knots.

As you open your eyes, you watch him push himself away from you, sitting back on his haunches.

“Clean up your mess.” The meaning of his statement only briefly eludes you.

With wobbly limbs you stumble a step or two on your knees closer to him, intoxicated by your co-mingling scents before his palm finds the crown of your head and he presses you down against him.

You gaze lovingly up at him and you’re sure the sight from above is simply obscene.

It’s been too long since you’ve done this which makes it all the more satisfying when your lips wrap around his slowly softening cock. The gentle weight of him in your mouth, the best feeling in the world. Warm and heavy on your tongue as the salty taste of his cum graces your tastebuds and the musky scent of him reaches your nose.

He inhales sharply on the first suck, then groans as he pushes your head down more. The scent of him here–with your nose nearly nestled against the dark curls above his dick–is dizzying. You try not to gag around him this time before he lets up a bit and allows you to move more freely, greedily licking up your combined juices as his warm cum slowly drips down your thighs.

Eddie allows you to slurp happily up and down his cock for a few more moments before he decides you’ve cleaned him up sufficiently. When he pulls you off, wetness drips down your chin. He thumbs at the spit there and you watch as he licks it off his own thumb, like he’s savouring chocolate ice cream that dripped off the cone.

Then, he pets the top of your head gently in appreciation. “Good girl.”

Your heart simply glows in your ribcage. This blooming feeling is quickly stamped out and replaced with rising panic when he goes to leave. Your heart reaches out for him and comes up empty, as it had when the life had drained from his eyes. It is not the panic from before which left you frightful at the prospect of being caught between claws and sharp teeth. But a panic which urges you to capture him, to keep him in your grasp, even if just for a little while longer.

When you catch his wrist, he spins around and bares his teeth like an abused animal anticipating harm and hurt–one who has never experienced a soft touch. What’s happened to him? What has he gone through these past few weeks while you’ve been grieving him, unable to eat or sleep or think at all?

Now that you’ve had him, back again in your arms with a beating heart and warm skin, you couldn’t bear to part with him again.

This panic, the terror of being clouded with grief again, is what drives you to stutter out, “W-will I see you again?”

Guarded features soften a touch as he stares into your face, trying to determine your motivations. To decipher that hopeful look in your eyes.

When he leans down to caress your chin softly, you know he’s come to a conclusion. You look imploringly from his left to his right eye, awaiting his response as your heart hammers in your chest.

"On the next night that the fog creeps over the hills...maybe I'll sneak into your bedroom...and devour you."

You sigh as he gently licks your top lip, close enough now that you could kiss him easily.

Gently, he grabs your face, his thumb resting on one cheek and his other four fingers on the other. Just before he kisses you you ask him softly, lips brushing, “Promise?”

It’s then he presses his lips to yours, and it’s almost tender before he drags his teeth over your bottom one. A final kiss is pressed to your mouth, soothing the gentle sting that you savour.

For the briefest of moments you linger in the feeling after he’s pulled away.

And when you open your eyes, he’s disappeared into the fog. Evaporated into the mist. And it’s like he whispers back to you, Promise.

⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆

You wait for him.

All the while, thinking only of him and nothing else. It’s like your grief has intensified—worse the second time around—and after a while you begin to wonder whether you imagined the whole thing. It isn’t much of a stretch to say so.

After he died, you often took to lying in bed for all hours of the day, staring out the window and watching the shadows grow long before drifting off into a fitful slumber. Tortured by your grief, even in sleep.

Could it have all been a dream?

As the days and weeks stretch on and you begin to question your grasp on reality—you return to this schedule. Lying in bed. Watching the world move as you remain still. Nightmares. Repeat.

You always dreamt of him. Nothing else. Watching the light drain from his eyes. The blood pool around his body.

He rots until he becomes pearly white bones. And the skeleton comes to life, badgers you with questions. He would ask you, Why didn’t you save me? Why aren’t you dead instead? This is all your fault! I’ll never forgive you!

Your encounter in the woods must have never occurred. It was just another fucked up way for you to torture yourself over his death.

Some nights you never slept, trying to keep the nightmares at bay. And, despite yourself, watched desperately for the fog to roll in.

It’s weeks before the fog returns to Hawkins.

When it does, and you hear the slow and steady creak of your window being opened as you lie in bed, you know it was all real.

And Eddie kept his promise.

Thank you so much for reading!! Please reblog and let me know what you thought!

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things x fem reader #stranger things x you #eddie munson x fem reader #joseph quinn #joe quinn #joe quinn smut #joseph quinn smut #kas eddie munson #vampire eddie munson

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sleepingcup · 2 months ago

Note

I can't ask in your crk blog for some reason.. So..i came here andd I wasn't sure to message you crk blog either..

But I wanted to ask if you can do shadow milk and PV or their skins.. To like comfort a mentality exausted Y/N.. 😅 (omg I'm nervous-)

(Sorry about that anon, yes the inbox in eepy-cookies is closed because it has a massive request that needs to be fulfilled. But I do feel a little bonus since it feels a bit incomplete.)

Characters: Truthless Recluse, Pure Vanilla Cookie, Sage of Truth, & Shadow Milk Cookie x G/N Reader (Bonus: Black Sapphire Cookie, Candy Apple Cookie, Awakened Pure Vanilla Cookie) Genre: Hurt/Comfort & Fluff Trigger Warning: Dark Topics and mentions of s****de Disclaimer: This is made for fun, please be aware of ooc

Summary: You are exhausted mentally for who knows how long, masking your personality. Always keeping a fake smile wherever you go, it went well even if it hurts but somehow someone noticed and corners you alone.

Pure Vanilla Cookie

It will take him a while to notice that you were masking this whole time, he always got fooled so easily its hard for him to notice a bit of your suffering. To him you are able to avoid him trying to understand you.

But if he happen to notice, he feels really bad for not noticing.

You didn't tell him and he didn't know, you two are on both fault at that.

You happen to notice that he was going near you at all cost, he won't be fooled by your attitude, instead he often goes near you to hug, ask you, and at the same time making sure that you are being comforted slowly.

Who knows he might be happy to see you being truly happy.

Truthless Recluse

You can't fool him, he can sense your sorrows.

Try masking your emotions and he can casually point it out like it was no big deal for him, of course he can piss you off wondering why but he knew he was trying to help you.

You heard me, "Help you." What else can you do when he found you alone on the top building with railings leaving behind many shoes of the unfortunate.

He may not be the best comforter but rest assure that his silent presence alone was there for you to at least let you lap on his lap, petting you and encouraging you to cry your heart out.

He looks cold but he isn't heartless there is still a slight fragment of Pure Vanilla Cookie in him.

Awakened Pure Vanilla Cookie

Fooling him once, crumbling to see you try.

Cause he can tell if you are alright or not, you might found him often checking up on you from time to time. Wanting you to be more open to him about your pain, sorrows, and dark thoughts that might hurt his heart.

Not only that be prepared for Pure Vanilla Cookie to arrive at your room asking you out to join him on a tea alone with him in a more private place just to comfort you no matter how many times other cookies tried to get him.

You being alone is not on his goal, his goal is to be there by your side. After all, he sees his own pain within you, he needs to see a future, a future where you are happy by his side no matter the cost.

Shadow Milk Cookie

Imagine your surprise that he found you alone on a bridge alone when you were lost in thoughts, you ignored him despite him mocking you to not do that unfortunate risk.

At first you think you fooled him, but he isn't he can sense your sorrow.

But even if you can't take it anymore and was about to jump, he simply won't let you. Putting you as his doll puppet for his own amusement. After all he found a PERFECT audience to perform no matter what state you are in.

But deep down, he finds your pain like a painful past reflection he has seen himself in. He won't let that slide, so he got his eyes on you no matter what. And he knew he got his instincts right the SECOND he leave you alone, disrespecting your privacy and making sure you feel better no matter his own efforts are not good.

After all, you serve a great challenge for him~

Sage of Truth

He can see you mask, your fake smile and it made him notice how you are mentally feeling. He is of course the fount of knowledge and the sage of truth, he knew the truth the second he see you. Cornering you to see how you are feeling got you on your nerves at first, but he reassures you that he was concerned for you and with valid proof he was doing everything he can to at least save you.

Of course there was an argument, but he won't back down even tho he will admit he is scared on the inside the pain that you help scares him but he knew his priority.

Finally he got you on your weakest and saddest days and he comfort you every time. And thus he decided to become your roommate despite how jealous other cookies are.

He has a feeling that leaving you alone once would make him hear the worse situation possible even tho it won't happen.

Surprise to say, he has become your therapist and comforter.

Black Sapphire Cookie

He didn't know at first but when he started inspecting you, it has somehow become a puzzle he wanted to solve like a detective investigating a crime scene. He knows your masking but he has no proof that you are mentally struggling to feel better, so he went deeper to find the pieces.

And let's just say once he did he got disgusted and now he has to capture you for himself, after all no child doesn't deserve the harsh treatment for a parent/guardian. By spreading a nasty rumor and making sure that IT IS REAL he was amused to see their face filled with begging, crying, and regret which he didn't believe and finish the job.

The next day you were doing peaceful stuff receiving concerns and worries from other cookies no matter where you go which got you confused.

But once you were finally alone, you knew the moment you see him it is checkmate.

"Now, now, where do you think your going, my dear audience~"

Candy Apple Cookie

Aside from doing the orders Shadow Milk Cookie gave her, you were the first cookie she somehow by any chance got along well with. Even if she manage to fool you, she notice that unusual look on your face. It got her confused and yet there was a desire to find out.

Those so called friends who betrayed you ticked her the wrong way, she often sees you with bruises and weird haircuts which her usual smile fades to a deadly seriousness. Candy Apple Cookie SIMPLY won't let that slide, after all YOU are her favorite friend aside from Shadow Milk Cookie and Black Sapphire Cookie.

She manage to convince Black Sapphire to join her on a scheme which gave him ideas to bring in the rumors about your so called "good friends" as she drags you away from them and your village.

Sure Master Shadow Milk Cookie WON'T mind this now do he?

#cookie run kingdom x reader #crk x reader #shadow milk cookie x reader #pure vanilla cookie x reader #truthless recluse x reader #sage of truth x reader #black sapphire cookie x reader #candy apple cookie x reader #awakened pure vanilla cookie x reader

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hello-gloomy · 2 months ago

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Maybe a stanley x fem reader where she was friends with stanley and Xeno before the petrification. Stanley has a crush on her. Instead of senku being the one that got hit with the bullet, it was Y/N (or however you refer it as). Obviously she survives. Thank you!!!

I'm so sorry this took me so long to answer I've been tired from Work ngl. And forgive me if some of this is different from the manga/anime.

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The One Holding The Gun

Stanley Snyder x Fem!reader

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Description: In the end, your kindness turned out to be a weakness, and not only did you have to pay for it, but so did Stanley.

Warnings: Maybe OOC, THE ANGST, there is a happy ending, I promise, violence, blood, injuries. MANGA SPOILERS.

A/N: Sorry this took so long, and sorry if it's too short, I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Words: 836

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"Take the shot." Xenos's voice crackles over the earpiece, and Stanley looks down the gun's scope before pulling the trigger. It's funny how much can change in a few seconds; by the time the shot rang out, you had instinctually moved Senku out of range and taken the hit instead; it got so quiet so fast until you heard Luna scream out at the sight of your blood dripping onto the deck. You stumbled a little bit before you dropped down into a puddle of blood that was growing fast. It smelled terrible; someone moved you onto your back, and you heard some shouting and felt someone moving your now red-stained hair out of your face. You refocused your vision the best you could and noticed Stanley holding you and Senku right near you as well; you felt some pressure on your stomach and saw their mouths moving, saying something. You think people are running around the three of you, and you decide you are too tired and close your eyes.

It felt like Stanley would throw up his heart with how panicked he was. You were bleeding out fast, and the bullet didn't go all the way through, which meant it was stuck. He didn't care how exposed he was right now. He was more worried about you.

"We have to get her below deck before she bleeds out." Stanley grits his teeth and holds you tighter before deciding this is the best help you have right now without you potentially losing more blood trying to get you to Xeno. He picks you up and lets Senku lead him to a room where he can lay you down to help. A boy in a captain's hat gives everyone else directions while an older man follows him and the junior scientist. He lays you down on the temporary bed while Senku and the older man rush around for supplies.

"Do you know basic first aid?" Stanley looks up from you to Senku and nods his head; the boy hands him a white coat and gloves before bringing over the supplies to get the bullet out of your abdomen. They got to work on saving you the best they could.

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

Your ears rang when you woke up; you blinked open your eyes and noticed the warm light surrounding you; it was late, and you were probably still on the ship. You try moving and hiss in pain when you do; you touch your midriff and feel the bandages around it; you rub over it gently and whimper at the pain. You shift to get more comfortable and notice a quiet argument happening outside your door; you try to tune in the best you can and make out one of the voices as Stanley's, being half lucid and in pain and shout out his name the best you can and the conversation outside stops. The doorknob jiggles, and then it opens; Stanley and Xeno both step in, the latter looking agitated and relieved at the sight of you awake.

"Hey, sweets," Stanley calls you in a low tone while Xeno closes the door behind them. Stanley stands beside you, and Xeno pulls up a chair to sit on the other side of you. He looks stressed, and Stanley looks like he went through an entire pack of cigarettes. He brushes a hand over your cheek, and you lean into him, relieved at his gentle touch.

"How long was I out?" You ask with a coarse throat. Xeno hands you a cup of water before answering.

"A week. We couldn't risk moving you with the amount of blood you lost." He informs you seriously while Stanley helps you drink. You nod to him when you are done and sit calmly, taking them both in.

"How are the kids?" You question while staring down at Xeno; he scoffs and looks away, a sore subject you seemed to miss while out.

"We've come to a temporary truce." He mumbles while looking away. Your getting shot scared him as much as it did, Stanley. He announces that he needs some air and excuses himself. Leaving you and Stanley alone, you invite him up on the bed with you and shift over to make room for him; he hesitates, so you pull him down with you. You lay his head on your chest and rub his hair gently; he moves and buries his face into your chest while wrapping his arms around you. He listens to your heart and finds comfort in it, still beating. He removes his face from where it was lying to look you in the eyes. You press your heads together, continuing to stroke his hair, and eventually, he gives you a long overdue kiss, expressing all his feelings with this one action. You reciprocate it fully, happy with how it all turned out okay. He shifts to lay on the bed to lay with you entirely, and you both hold each other until you both fall asleep.

#x reader #dr stone #dr stone x reader #dr stone stanley #stanley snyder x reader #dr stone senku #dr. stone #dr stone x you #dr. stone x reader #dr xeno

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shaisuki · 11 months ago

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❝ FOR THE EYES THAT CANNOT SEE. ❞

✞ FEATURING. BULLY! GOJO SATORU AND GETO SUGURU

▶ SERIES MASTERLIST

CONTENT WARNINGS. angst + talks about trauma + lots of crying + ooc characters.

SYNOPSIS. you got closure and it was rewarding as it was painful

it was unreal.

the light coming from the florescent is the only of lightning in suguru's office. the tallest floor of his now owned building overlooks the whole city of tokyo. white, orange and purple lights are like small dots from where you are. the picturesque view of the city and the honking of cars are like a pin dropping and you staying in your former bully's office.

this wasn't your ideal way of being with him. left alone in close doors and it was like walking in a trap you know and he says he wants to spend time with you. know you and make up for the wrongdoings. the way he put it is demanding. “i won't force you if you don't want to.” is what he said to you and it was like a another being impersonating geto from the way he talks but it was really him. you forgot he was charming and have a natural appeal that got people being attracted to him when he speaks and plus his good look. geto suguru is devilishly handsome. long jet black hair, purple eyes that glints in mischief and a body that is sculpted by the gods themselves.

your fuller fingers caress the stack of papers. geto said he could use your expertise in the field he was running. it was an excuse. you know that. geto suguru can do anything and he just needed you alone. you glanced at the table in where he's positioned from his standing. the black and grey decorations gave the impression of a minimal and yet cool aesthetic reflecting his personality but what really caught your eyes is the picture frame placed behind the pens.

it was you and him.

you vaguely remember where and when was that picture taken. a smile to your face and his in front of the ocean blue beach. you in a lilac sundress and him in a button down white shirt. you fight yourself from tearing up by blinking your eyes rapidly. it was like you were a newly awakened coma patient and you're seeing a life that you used to have but you cannot remember it.

sensing him behind you, you faked a cough before turning around to face him. “i finished it.” you said to him and he smiles. one thing you noticed is his eyes closed when he smiles. “thanks, (y/n).�� you unconsciously sat in the end of his table and before you can apologize after realizing his body traps you where you're forced to sit longer that you wanted to and your palms are planted in his desk.

“don't.” you whispered above your breath. your eyes closed and turning your head to the side and he hums. his forehead pressed against yours and your head moved to face him before opening your eyes and you see the color of his eyes properly. you weren't given the chance cause the last time you see it you were crying. vision too blurry to make out what colors of his eyes are. in closer inspection. the iris are black and his corneas are the mix of dark violets and black with white to make the color of his eyes clearer. for some reason, you think his eyes are created by a painter who struggled to mix his colors right and he comes accidentally with the color of suguru's eyes.

he smell of spices. cardamon and cloves mix and that heady scent of cedar. you avoided the smell. it brought you unwanted memories during the times you desperately needed to forget. anything that remind you of them.

“i'm not the person who i was three years ago.” his breath hitting your face and a tear slip. you hold your breath momentarily and let it go. “you may not be the person three years ago but to me you still are. why suguru? why?” he withdraws his forehead away from you. held your cheeks with his hands and looks straight in your eyes.

“i wanted to control you.”

you let out a shaky breath. closing your eyes and it tears comes rolling after being triggered by being squeezed by your eyelids. “control? and it tickled yours and satoru to reduce me into nothing but dirt. you seen me out of the thousand students that walked that gate and it was me you choose to?” your voice is soft. repeating the words before you choked a sob. reaching for his shirt and grabbing it. pulling it that it might tear at any moment and then good. it was time for him to get his clothes ripped. “the control you both wanted over me cost me my life, suguru. my tears are just like rain drops to you two.” your tears are uncontrollably falling and you were still clutching his shirt. the fabric were still holding on and you were just weak.

he takes a step back forward. letting you assault him and it can get your system to pour all the hatred that engraved to you caused by him and satoru. he was really the worst.

he can't offer you relief when he was the one who caused it and so he did what he can. pulling you closer to him and feel the softness of your body in him. the curses stringing from your lips are all can he hear as he holds the back of your head as you cried in his shirt. he dies a little inside from it. if he can go back in time, he would be nicer to you and avoided of all the wrongdoings he did to you. he will treat you right, love you right and did things that can make you fall in love with him. guess he can never do that to you.

by the time you were done, you were still crying your eyes out from the stupid answer. they choose you. an insecure, fat bitch. the world comes spinning and you can say people like them really boosted their egos when it comes tormenting you. they won out of the abuse you got from the people who viewed you differently. a mad, mad, mad world for you.

life really hated you.

“i need to go.” nodding your head like a robot while you wipe your eyes filled with tears with your palms. you shushed him before he can speak. “i just needed closure and i guess i got it. don't worry i'm not going away. you can say i'm a masochist. i kept coming for more.” and with that you spun your heels and walked away from him. leaving him thinking what person you turned out to be. destroyed with no salvation and it's all their fault. his mind says he needed to let you go just like you did but you're here and his greedy mind tells him. he still can have you. no matter the circumstances are.

you got the same answer from satoru and they were really the best of friends.

“wow.” you muttered. staring back at him and satoru is clearly in discomfort. “guess what, satoru? suguru also said that. i'm really lucky.”

“(y/n).....” his words are trailing and his voice too. going from being slowly hushed. “no, don't. i got my answers and that's what i really need, satoru. really.” you bravely told him. convincing him that it was fine and you wanted to forget the past. “i can move on now, satoru.”

“but i cannot say all is forgiven.” you softly said to him.

gojo marvelled at what you said. a grave offense to you and you were still the one he knew with the heart of gold. it may not the forgiveness he may be wanting but it's good. he can still make up for it. patch things up with you. this time he won't fuck it up.

a back to back conversation with your former bullies did a number to you. your eyes are swollen from crying too much. you submitted a leave request in which you are glad for them accepting it quickly. you needed to think all of it and the course of your plans will go. you have the closure for yourself and you needed to hear their voices.

you pick your phone. quickly dialing the number of a close friend, haibara. it doesn't take a second before he returned you call. his bubbly voice sending you comfort. instantly bringing a smile to your face.

“hey, (y/n)!”

“hi, yu!”

you hear voices in the background. the little ones you left home. haibara temporarily gave you details about what happened and then you paused before speaking.

“how are my boys doing, yu?”

TAGLIST. @missakward123 @lupitalove @i00bear @socialanxietyvictim @tourmalxine @labelt-san @ghostlyworld @kashxyou @chiiiiiiiiiiifuuuuuuuu @cute-sucker @skii-high @boyimjustaloserforyourlove @jossayuuu @bubblesandsand1-0 @ply4vnce @witchymermaid12 @luna-v-roiya @mariyumemi @sinfullygay @higurumapet @kvk6433gkcigv @s-j320 @bts-skz @imcreepininyourheartbabe @hazzelle-kento @cashcadaver @n1vi @kiruupon @vebbiewuzhere @its-princessmara @ssetsuka @unicornqueen05 @idkwhattfimdoinghere2 @sunnytyun @tomriddles-wh0re @ya-mamaaaaa @wateriswhatiam @red-writes @saltyladyflower @greyclouq @bahurani @lovayle @okayiamkassandra @sealikesushi @sanzuandmikey @spicana @luvsymai @uniquenicefangirl @ushijimaschubbs @lansy-4 @aesonsgirl @eggieshiteru @jellibean2018 @uchihabucketlist @sunaemoby @cupidscourt @divinedolliebun @rottmntrulesall @mmeharuno @sleighter @haesify @desperadaparasapagmamhal @ichikanu @daytej @0honeylemonade @definetlythinkimanalien @thulhu @mastermasterlist1p1

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x chubby reader #plus size reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader x geto #anime x reader #x reader #jjk angst

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 2 years ago

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Cod BF/GF Scenario

Bringing your boyfriend/girlfriend to Sephora (or a cosmetics store because of course my third world country doesn't have Sephora)

Characters Included: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Valeria Garza, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Alex Keller, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Nikolai Belinski, Philip Graves.

Reader is described to be shorter than all Characters.

And yes I'm aware that some of these scenarios have the same characters because I thought they fit more than one.

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

A/n: Hii! Lia here, these past few weeks have been so freaking brutal on me lovelies but I wanted to write this to feed you guys <3 (Also, this is a 2.5k like special since I just reached it AHHHH)

My rules for requests and characters I can write for

Disclaimers/Warnings: None, OOC???, pure fluff haters be warned.

His arm is just perfect for swatches, lots of space, he lets out a deep chuckle whenever you take his muscular arm and compare the swatch side by side to your face to see if the color would match you. He fakes being annoyed but definitely doesn't mind that you drag him around, adorable dynamic between you being tiny dragging a big burly man around, in the lip product isle no less.

Characters: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Alejandro Vargas, König.

Is the sweet boyfriend who saw your eyes light up the moment you saw the store and offered you to go in, again doesn't mind if you use his arm for swatches. Looks at the products that they think will look good on you and sometimes picks up a thing or two for you to try and will definitely do that fist thing that guys do whispering a silent "yes!" of accomplishment (this thing), they're so proud of themselves when you like the item they picked out.

Characters: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Alex Keller, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

Goes with you because they like seeing you all dolled up, will pay attention and know when you're using a product that you bought with them during the shopping trip even if that was a few weeks back. So pretty for them that it triggers their possessiveness just a bit.

Characters: John Price, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Valeria Garza, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Alex Keller, Nikolai Belinski, Philip Graves.

Would tease you about liking these kinds of things but would silently admire you from your shared bed while you put skincare or makeup on, sometimes they use the skincare on themselves secretly and you'd just wonder why your skincare products are getting empty a lot quicker.

Characters: John "Soap" MacTavish, Alejandro Vargas, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Nikolai Belinski, Philip Graves.

Doesn't want to be there but seeing you liking those things amuses them, will secretly buy something behind your back that they think would look so pretty on you and leave it on your vanity for you to find and will smirk if they find you using in a few days later.

Characters: Alejandro Vargas, Valeria Garza, Keegan P. Russ, Makarov. (For my delulu Makarov lovers ( it's so OOC though ahaha)

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maldaptivedreamer · 4 months ago

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A Cowboy's Weeping Angel - Arcane

Her crimson cloak billows and dances in the gentle breeze as she trots through the streets, her horse's hooves make a satisfying rhythm on the cobblestones. The town has grown and changed since she last passed through its streets.

Buildings have been built, roads widened, and new faces have appeared. She catches glimpses of familiar faces among the crowd, their features weathered with age but still holding traces of recognition as they watch her pass by. But there are also new faces, youthful and eager, their bright eyes following her broad form sitting tall on her horse. Some whisper to each other with curiosity and admiration, while others stare with a frown.

Feeling apprehensive, she adjusts her hat and follows the familiar path.

content: Sevika x fem reader, errors/mistakes, wild west au, outlaw/cowboy sevika, maybe slight ooc Sevika, gun, past relationship, flashbacks, name calling/nicknames, panic attack, angst, descriptions of decay and rot, lots of crying, r! forgives pretty fast (srry), lots of playful banter

wc: ~12.3k

a/n: Sorry for not posting sooner. I've been sick and migraines are a fucking bitch. Anyway, hope y'all like and thanks for reading! Taglist open for arcane fics!!

MINORS DNI NSFW 18+

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

The butt of the gun digs into the meat of your shoulder as you cock it loudly, holding it steadily in your hands.

You watch her freeze, her breath stopping short in her chest as her fist hovers over the wooden door. Tilting your chin, you narrow your eyes at her back. “You lost?”

Slowly turning to face you, she raises her hands by her sides in a placating manner.

You purse your lips as she silently observes you, taking you in. The baby fat that used to fill out your cheeks is gone, leaving behind sharp angles. There is a glimmer of shock and hurt in your eyes, but you hide it well behind a smoldering fire of rage.

Your lips pull into an angry frown as you glare at her, quirking a brow at her silence. Her mouth parts as her face twists, regret and guilt flashing in her eyes. “Hey, angel.” She finally speaks softly.

Your throat constricts at the sound of her voice, the familiar husk sends unwelcome shivers down your spine.

You can feel the weight of the gun in your hand, its cold metal pressing into your palms as you stand frozen, unsure of what to do next. Your forefinger absentmindedly taps against the trigger guard in contemplation.

Her eyes flicker to your fidgeting finger and she slowly lowers her hands, her voice a mixture of warmth and concern. “You look good, angel.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes and dropping your arms, swinging the muzzle down toward the floor.

The corners of her mouth twitch up into a smirk as she speaks, her words dripping with a hint of playfulness. “M’ surprised your eyes haven’t rolled to the back of your head yet, sweetheart.”

You shake your head in irritation. “I could’ve shot you.”

She nonchalantly shrugs, glancing at the gun dangling loosely in your hand. “The safety’s on.” With a smug tilt of her chin, she gestures towards the gun in challenge. “I’m callin’ your bluff. I bet it’s not even loaded, angel.”

Raising an unimpressed eyebrow, you observe her calmly as you lift the gun back into your hands, cocking it. A bright red shell clatters to the floor, catching the light and spinning in a small circle. Her silver eyes follow its movement, a hint of surprise flickering across her features.

"This isn't one of your poker games." You declare coolly, meeting her gaze again. “There’s no bluff to call.”

Releasing a dry, awkward cough, she adjusts her stance and her feet shift uncomfortably. The moonlight casts shadows across her face, emphasizing the deep creases of worry etched into her features. “You were gonna shoot me?” She asks, thick brows lifting in shock.

The wooden rocking chair creaks beneath your weight as you sit down, nonchalantly rocking back and forth.

Shrugging, you rest the shotgun on your lap. “There’s more in the chamber. It’s still a possibility.” You state matter-of-factly, fingers idly tracing the barrel, your gaze fixed on her.

Wincing in discomfort, she hesitantly sits on the edge of the old wicker chair across from you as she removes her hat. “You’re still angry.” She says definitively, leaning onto her knees.

You scoff out a humorless laugh. Shaking your head slowly, you turn to look at the vast expanse of the ranch under the pale glow of the moon. “Why are you here?” You ask tiredly, turning back to her.

Her hands fidget restlessly in her lap as she speaks, her voice wavering with a hint of insecurity. Her eyes avoid yours as she confesses. “I missed you. I wanted to see you.” She swallows nervously, feeling the weight of your unwavering eyes scrutinizing her. “Wanted to see if you were happy.”

Your feet still as you sink back into the chair with a heavy sigh. “Sevika, when you left… things changed. I’ve changed. It’s been a long time… Did you think that you could come back and I’d fall back into your arms?”

She tilts her head to meet your eyes, shaking her head emphatically. “No. I-”

But you cut her off, your tone firm. “I’m happy here. I’ve got a community now. One that looks to me, respects me. And I’ve got the ranch… Got all I’d wanted.”

Rolling your neck, you continue. “You could have come back a year ago, or the year before that, or any of the years before that.” Covering your mouth to disguise a yawn, you speak monotonously . "I’m too old to be playin’ games anymore Sevika. Get to the point… Why are you here? Why now?"

Sevika's eyes dart away, a flash of guilt crossing her face. She lets out a long exhale before meeting your gaze again. "I… I got hurt.” She pulls the cloak from her shoulders, stretching out her left hand.

The prosthetic arm glints in the light, its surface a shining copper color with intricate detailing etched into the metal. You can see the joints moving as she flexes her arm, a faint whirr sounds as she bends her elbow. Clenching her fist, her fingers click together.

Your grip on the shotgun tightens involuntarily and you bite back a gasp, fighting to keep your expression neutral.

"There was… an explosion. And I took the brunt of it." She rolls her shoulder, wincing at the memory. She pauses, looking at you with tears shimmering in her expressive silver eyes. “When I was layin’ there, all I saw was you. All I could think about was you. I'm sorry, angel. So sorry for hurtin' you, darlin'."

You feel a twinge in your chest but you push it aside, pursing your lips.

Squinting in deep thought, you furrow your brow and tap your fingers. “Give me some time to think about it.” You let out a sigh through your nose, grunting as you rise from your seat. “It's late. You need to leave.” Your voice carries a tone of finality as the gun hangs hanging limply in your grasp.

Her mouth parts in surprise at your blunt dismissal. "O-okay." She stumbles over her words, clearly taken aback. "I'm stayin' at the Inn, so I'll be around town.” She gives you an uncertain look.

Silently, you watch as she places her hat on her head and slowly descends the stairs. Letting out a puff of air, you speak stonily. “Before I even think about entertainin’ this, be honest with me… Is there anythin’ you’re runnin’ from this time?”

Her broad shoulders rise and fall as she takes a deep breath, turning back to face you. Her eyes search yours before she shakes her head. “No.”

Sevika lingers for a moment, as if wanting to say more, but then simply tips her hat and turns away. You watch her retreating form disappear into the darkness, the sound of her boots crunching on gravel fading into the night.

CRUNCH. Crunch. Crunch.

The metallic clang of the gun echoes through the quiet night as it slips from your trembling fingers, thudding against the wooden planks. Your hand instinctively flies to your chest, clutching at the fabric of your shirt as a sharp pain shoots through your body.

Why? Why did she come back?

The questions swirl in your mind, each one a dagger twisting in your heart. Black dots line your vision, fear gripping your chest like a vice as you imagine the worst.

What if she died? What if she never came back?

Your knees wobble as the ground grows unsteady beneath your feet. Gasping for air, you collapse to your knees, the unforgiving wood bruising your knees. The sharp air pierces your lungs, as your body shakes with sobs.

With trembling hands, you grasp onto the porch railing, using it to pull yourself up. Your legs feel weak and unsteady as you stumble, picking up the gun and quietly shutting the door behind you.

The cold still lingers despite the warmth of the house, and you shiver uncontrollably. A sickening sensation churns in your stomach and your head pounds relentlessly.

What do you want?

The cool soil slips through the spaces between your fingers, leaving behind a gritty residue on your skin. The earthy scent fills your nose, mixed with a sharp tang of rusted iron and rot.

Sharp twigs and branches poke through your pants and prick your skin. The ground in front of you is barren, with no signs of life save for a few scattered leaves and twigs. The earth looks as if it's been long abandoned, with patches of bare soil and decaying debris. Even the grass seems to shy away from this desolate patch, vibrant green blades curling in the opposite direction.

A sense of eerie stillness hangs heavy in the air, as if the very heart of the forest has stopped beating. You can't help but feel a shiver run down your spine as you take in this scene before you.

Your mind conjures images of the different creatures that fed on his body. The flood of insects that laid their homes, their children, in his vacant corpse. The tiny teeth of hungry rodents gnawing on bone. The sharp beaks of scavenging birds pecking at sinews and tendons. Clawed feet tearing at his decayed flesh.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

You don't turn your head at the noise.

“Was wonderin’ where you’d gone to.” Vander’s voice carries softly in the breeze.

You don't respond, continuing to let the soil sift through your fingers. The silence stretches between you, broken only by the rustling of leaves and distant bird calls.

Finally, you speak, your voice low and hollow. “Part of me still wonders what things could’ve been like… If he’d died a helluva lot sooner and she’d stayed.”

There's a pause before Vander answers, his tone careful. “There's no use in wonderin' about what could've been." His boots crunch on the grass as he moves closer. "What matters is what is." He says gently.

You nod silently, still fixated on the barren patch of earth. "She's back." You murmur, almost to yourself.

Vander inhales sharply. "I know."

You nod again, finally turning to look at him. His weathered face is creased with concern, his grey-blue eyes searching yours.

Chuckling, you lift a brow. “So, this is a wellness check then?”

He sends you a slightly scolding look. “I’m just a concerned friend lendin’ an ear and some company... If you need it.”

Chewing your lip, you nod.

"What’re you thinking?" He asks carefully.

You shrug, returning your gaze to the ground. "Don't know yet… Part of me wants to hear her out. Another part knows that we’re not young anymore. Things are different. I’ve got more to lose. And I…" You trail off, still focused on the dirt slipping through your fingers.

Vander settles down beside you with a groan, his joints creaking. "It’s okay to be scared. To want to protect yourself from someone who hurt you."

Your jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "She left once. What's to stop her from leavin' again?"

"Nothing." Vander muses. "She can leave anytime she wants."

You scoff lightly, tossing the dirt from your hands and dusting them off. "Is this ‘sposed to be comforting?" You ask as you face him.

"What I mean is…” Vander sighs, scratching at his salt and pepper scruff. “You can't control her actions. You can only control your own."

He looks at you thoughtfully. "Are you willin' to take that risk again? To open yourself up, let her in, knowin' she might leave?"

You're quiet for a long moment, mulling over his words. The breeze rustles through the trees, carrying the scent of pine and sap.

You let out a long, shuddering breath, your shoulders slumping in defeat. Your throat tightens as you continue, your words heavy with emotion. “If she- if somethin’ happened to her, I don’t know what I’d have done…” You admit in a hushed tone.

Wiping a shaky hand over your face, you take a deep breath and try to steady yourself. A single tear escapes from the corner of your eye and trickles down your cheek. "But it’s not just me this time…" You say, your voice wavering. “If I can’t pick up the pieces, it's not just me who gets hurt."

Vander nods understandingly. "You don't have to decide anything right now. Take your time. Figure out what you truly want. She’ll wait."

As your fingers search through the depths of your pocket, you feel the familiar texture of worn and creased leather.

“When she ran, all she left was this useless strip of leather I complimented once.” You say absentmindedly, staring at the strip of leather that weighs into your palm.

You hold it up to the light, examining every crease and mark. A reminder of what once was. "Put it in a box and tried to ignore it. To move on, but we both know how that turned out." You let out a self-deprecating laugh as you run your fingers over the familiar grooves. "Every time I tried to throw it away, I ended up just starin’ at it."

It brings a flood of memories - both sweet and bitter. The laughter, the stolen kisses, the whispered promises. And then the silence, the hurt, the hollow ache of anger.

Vander watches you quietly. "Sometimes the things we can't let go of, are what holds us back." He says softly.

You nod, still staring at the strip in your hand. "I know." You whisper. "But knowin’ and doin’ are two different things, Van."

You clench your fist around the leather, feeling it dig into your palm. "I don't know what to do. But I don’t think I’m ready to say goodbye." Your voice cracks slightly on the last word.

"She showed up out of nowhere yesterday. Cut yourself some slack." Vander says gently. "Give yourself time to process."

Your lips tremble as tears stream down your cheeks. “Can you hold me?” You ask in a small voice and he quickly pulls you into his side.

Vander's strong arms wrap around you, pulling you close against his sturdy frame. You bury your face in his chest, inhaling his warm, comforting scent as your shoulders shake with silent sobs. The leather strip is still clutched tightly in your hand, pressed between your palm and Vander's shirt.

His hand rubs soothing circles on your back as he holds you. "Let it out, kid." He murmurs. "You've been holding everythin’ in for too long."

Emotions that you've pushed down and ignored for years come crashing to the surface. Pent-up grief, bitterness, hurt, longing, exhaustion – all blend together into an overwhelming storm. You cry for the young person you were. For the naive dreams that were shattered. For the love that was lost.

Eventually, your sobs subside into quiet sniffles. "You don't have to be strong all the time. It's okay to let it out, to rely on someone else for once." He reassures.

You nod against his chest, taking a deep, shuddering breath as you pull back and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. "That’s not exactly somethin’ I’d had the privilege of." You whisper hoarsely.

Vander's eyes soften with understanding. He gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Well, you do now. You've got me, and everyone in town behind you."

You nod, managing a weak smile. "Thank you." You murmur.

You sit in silence for a while, your breathing slowly evening out as Vander keeps a comforting arm around your shoulders. The leather strip dangles loosely from your fingers now, swaying gently in the breeze.

"It's okay to still care about her. To love her, even." He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. "But that doesn't mean you have to let her back in if you're not ready. Or ever, if that's what you decide."

You nod slowly, mulling over his words. "I know." You whisper. "I’d be lyin’ if I said that I didn’t miss her. That I didn't still care. ”

You let out a long, shaky breath. "If I tell her to leave, I know she will. And I don’t know if I’m ready for that." You admit, your fingers tightening around the worn leather strip.

Vander rubs his scruff thoughtfully. "No matter what you decide." He says in a low, steady voice. "You need to trust yourself. You're strong, stronger than you give yourself credit for."

He pauses, letting out a soft grunt before continuing. "Sure she means a lot to you, but you’re stronger than anything she can do." His words offer a glimmer of hope and reassurance amidst the turmoil in your mind.

Your eyes grow distant as you stare at the sky above. The sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. You take a deep breath, the cool evening air filling your lungs.

You hum, a soft, almost involuntary sound as you nudge Vander's arm. “Thank you, Van.”

“Course, kid.” Vander’s blue-grey eyes are downturned in sympathy as he gives you a sympathetic glance. “I’m sorry she’s not here to do this. She was much better at this than I am.”

You scoff and shake your head. “She was abso-fucking-lutely not.” Sending him an amused, but appreciative look, you nudge him again. “My mama was a lotta things, but a pep-talker wasn’t one of ‘em.”

Vander chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. "Fair enough. But she would've known what to say, even if it wasn't pretty." Vander's arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close. "You’ll be just fine, kid. I know you will."

You lean into him, drawing strength from his solid presence. The scent of tobacco and sandalwood clings to his clothes – familiar, comforting.

A jet-black horse leisurely grazes on the lush grass below. His thick, wavy mane sways as he lifts his head towards you.

With a sigh, you dismount and slowly move past the horse, making your way towards the familiar willow archway. The sunlight filters through the delicate branches, casting elongated shadows on the ground.

Tapping your fingers on your thigh, you pause beneath the archway. Sevika’s eyes dance around the garden and you silently brace yourself.

"Mind if I join you?" You ask softly.

Sevika's silver eyes snap up in surprise as she straightens on the wooden bench. She clears her throat. "No." She says, shaking her head. She scoots over, motioning for you to take a seat beside her.

Sparrows flit about in a nearby birdbath, their cheerful chirping adding to the sound of whispering trees.

"This place has changed." She says, taking in the garden.

You nod, your gaze trailing over the stone steps that lead to a stone fountain. A wooden swing hangs from a thick tree branch, swaying gently in the breeze.

"After you left, I couldn't come back here for a while." You admit, your voice tinged with sadness. "It didn't feel like mine anymore. And I didn't want this place to go to waste… Felt selfish to keep it to myself."

Her expression softens even more as she responds. "It's beautiful."

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. "The kids come here sometimes. To play, or have picnics." Your eyes drift to the colorful painted rocks placed at the base of a towering oak tree. "They add their own touches too."

Sevika follows your gaze, taking in the vibrant stones. Her metal hand flexes unconsciously. "It's nice." She pauses, her voice growing quieter. “That you’ve shared this place."

You sigh, your interlocked fingers fidgeting in your lap. "I come here to think sometimes." You murmur, almost to yourself. "To remember."

Sevika shifts beside you, her voice gentle. "What do you remember?"

You close your eyes, inhaling deeply. A gentle breeze rustles the leaves above, carrying with it the sweet scent of daffodils and grass. "Everything." You whisper. "The good. And the bad."

Opening your eyes, you turn to face her. "I've been doin’ a lot of thinkin'..." You start, your voice low and measured. "About what you said.”

You pause before continuing. “I… There’s so much here that I need to protect. People that rely on me being strong.”

“If you tell me to go, I’ll go.” She says without hesitation and the raw sincerity in her eyes jars you. “No fighting, no questions. I’ll leave and you’ll never have to see me again.” The resoluteness in her voice is tinged with a hint of sadness and resignation, as if she’s already accepted a rejection.

You suck your bottom lip into your mouth and bite down, feeling the sharp sting of pain. Your eyes gaze out into the distance, unseeing, lost in thought. You open your mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a shaky breath that burns your throat. Desperately, you lift a hand to your lips and bury your face into your shoulder, hoping to hide the tears streaming down your cheeks.

But your cries flow freely, slipping through the cracks of your fingers. Your shoulders shake and jolt with the sobs that wrack through your body.

Sevika shifts closer, but you raise a quivering hand towards her. “Don’t. Please.” You whisper in a desperate rasp.

With hesitant movements, she slowly lowers her hand, her eyes watching you tensely as you struggle to calm yourself.

A heavy silence falls between you, broken only by the gentle creaking of the swing and the distant croaking of frogs. The cool air caresses your tear-stained cheeks, and you take a deep, shuddering breath.

"I was so angry in the beginning." You whisper, your voice thick. "I hated you for leaving the way you did."

Her jaw clenches, a flicker of pain crossing her face before she schools her expression. "I understand, I-”

“I’m not finished.” You cut her off sharply.

You look at her then, really look at her. The years have left their mark - deeper lines around her eyes, a jagged blue scar that branches over her cheek and down her neck, lean muscles now transformed into something more bulky. Yet despite all these changes, you can still see glimpses of the woman you’d once fallen in love with.

"I can't make any promises." You finally say, tears crusting on your cheeks. “I’m not angry, but every time I look at you, I switch between feeling nothing and everything.”

Sevika's gaze softens with understanding as she nods slowly. "I don't expect anything from you, angel." She says quietly. Sevika’s face scrunches at the hollowness in your voice. "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry."

You glance between her eyes, taking in the soft, silver color. The gentle slope of her brows, the slight furrow in her forehead, and the genuine concern in her eyes. “I know…” You raise a trembling shoulder with a watery smile. “If you weren’t, I wouldn’t have considered any of this.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill your lungs. "I can't promise you anything." You repeat softly. "But… I'm willing to try."

Sevika's eyes turn down to her lap and she releases a throaty cough, attempting to hide the cracks in her voice. "Thank you." She rasps, her voice barely above a whisper.

You study her face, taking in every detail as you contemplate your next words. Her sincerity is evident in her tear-filled eyes. You can see the weight of regret and longing in every line on her face.

"I forgive you." You realize, voice filled with a soft acceptance.

Forcing down the emotion clogging her throat, she speaks hoarsely. “M’ not good at this. Could hurt you again.”

You smile genuinely at her for the first time. “I’m sure you will, cowboy. But all I’m askin’ is that you stay to pick up the pieces. Promise me you’ll stay and I’ll give this a chance, Sevika.”

Sevika feels hope spark in her chest, a feeling that had been so foreign since she’d left you. She swallows, her voice brimming with guilt. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, angel.” She shakes her head emphatically.

“Whether you deserve it or not, I forgive you.” You reply firmly.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever deserve it. I’ve done a lot of bad, angel.” She says gruffly.

You stand, waving your hands in frustration. “God dammit Sevika. Are you trying to convince me to give you a chance or stay away?” Wetting your lips, you pause. “I don’t trust you. I can’t. Not yet… but I’m willing to give you the chance to earn it back.”

After a moment of hesitation, you reach out and gently wipe away the tears trailing down her cheeks. The touch of your hand seems to calm her as she leans into it, finding solace and comfort in your forgiveness as she closes her eyes.

“Hey, cowboy, where’d you go?”

The soft, sweet scent of lilacs fills her senses, a delicate and enchanting aroma that envelops her. The vibrant hues of white and purple blossoms entwine within the strands of your hair, sunbeams creating a radiant halo around you.

Her lips form words that she can’t make out, her voice a muffled hum in her ears. She leans in to press a tender kiss to your fingertips before whispering something into your palm.

A smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth as you nod arrogantly. “Ah, I see.” You reply with a click of your tongue. “You got lost in my angelic and perfect beauty.” You feign realization with mocking sarcasm.

Leaning in, you press a light kiss to her lips. “Don’t blame yah, cowboy, I’m the closest you’ll ever get to heaven.” You tease.

She shakes her head as her chest vibrates with her voice.

Rolling onto your back, you cackle and your bright smile sends a wave of love and adoration through her chest.

A bittersweetness spreads through Sevika at the memory, the ghost of your taste lingering on her lips. She opens her eyes slowly, blinking away the remnants of the past.

The present comes back into focus - your hands still resting gently on her cheeks, as your eyes search hers with a mix of caution and hope.

“I decide whether or not you deserve my forgiveness. Alright, cowboy?” You firmly whisper. Your thumbs brushing away the last of her tears as you wait for her nod before you continue. “I’m still hurting, but… I don’t hate you. I’m not sure that I ever truly could…”

Sevika nods slowly, her eyes never leaving yours. She reaches up, hesitating for a moment before resting her hands over yours. The warmth of her touch seeps through your palms, familiar and comforting despite the years apart. The metal of her other hand is an entirely new feeling, hard and cold.

"I’m so sorry, angel." She says, her voice rough with emotion. "Never stopped thinkin’ of you. When I was gone, you were always there. With me."

You lean your forehead against hers, closing your eyes as you breathe her in. She smells the same - leather and tobacco and something uniquely Sevika. It brings back a flood of memories, both sweet and painful.

"I want to try again." You whisper. "But we can't just pick up where we left off. Too much has time has passed."

Sevika nods, her thumbs tracing soothing circles over your hands. "I understand. We'll take it slow. At your pace, angel.”

Pressing a long kiss to her forehead, you allow yourself to fully give in to her touch. Wrapping your arms around her, she quickly does the same. She holds you close as she buries her face in your neck. You can feel her tears dampening your skin as she trembles against you. Her voice is muffled and thick with emotion as she speaks. "I love you so much, angel."

You don't answer, running your fingers through her hair soothingly as your own tears falling freely now. The pain and longing of the past years mixes with a cautious hope for the future.

"Thank you." Sevika whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "I promise I'll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again."

You nod, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "I believe you." You say softly. "I just need you to show me."

Sevika nods earnestly, her silver eyes shining with promise. “I will. I want to.”

After a few moments, Sevika pulls back slightly to meet your eyes. Her silver gaze is intense, filled with determination and promise. "I swear to you, I ain't leavin' again. Not unless you tell me to go."

Gently caressing her cheek with your thumb, you slowly lower your hands and return to your seat with a small nod.

Vibrant yellow daffodils wave in the gentle breeze, their delicate petals reflecting the warm sunlight. The rope swing sways back and forth, accompanied by the rustle of leaves in the trees above.

Your throat feels dry as you clear it and shift awkwardly on the wooden bench. You take a deep breath before speaking. “Do you- do you want a tour sometime this week? I could show you what’s changed since you’d left.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of Sevika's lips. "I'd like that." She says softly, her silver eyes shining with warmth.

You nod, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation flutter in your chest. "Alright then. You remember where the ranch is?" Shaking your head, you wince. “Don’t answer that. Meet me at the stables.”

"I’ll see you then." Sevika says. She hesitates for a moment before adding. "Thank you for giving me this chance. I know it can't be easy."

You take a deep breath, your gaze drifting to the swaying daffodils. "It's not." You admit quietly. "But I think… I hope it’s worth it."

Stand up slowly, you brush off your pants. "I need to go.” Glancing at your feet, you send her a stiff smile.

“I’ll see you soon, angel.”

“See you soon.” You give her a tense nod and awkwardly leave.

The cool breeze brushes through the strands of your hair, sending them dancing in the wind as you pull your jacket tighter around you. A small shiver runs down your spine, but it's quickly replaced with a sense of comfort as you make your way to the stables.

The familiar sound of a loud neigh greets you, and a warm smile spreads across your lips. As you enter the stall, you run a hand through your horse's pale blonde mane and press your forehead to hers in greeting. “Hey sweet girl, how’re you doin’?” You whisper softly into her ear.

She responds by nuzzling her nose against your neck affectionately.

You nod, letting out a breathy chuckle. “How d’you feel about a ride?” As if answering, she lets out a contented snort and your smile grows.

With a soft hum, you lean in and press a tender kiss to her soft nose. The warmth of her breath tickles your skin as she huffs.

A soft, almost hesitant knock on the stall door interrupts your thoughts. You turn to see Sevika, her boots shuffling quietly against the stable floor as she enters.

“Hey, angel. Hope I’m not late.”

You shake your head, turning slightly to face her. “You’re early. Awful eager, aren’t you?” You mumble with a raised brow, grabbing Honey’s saddle pad from the nearby hook. The chestnut mare shifts under your touch, her silky coat rippling as you gently drape the thick pad over her back.

Sevika fidgets nervously, her eyes downcast as she clears her throat. “I’m sorry. I could-”

“No. I- I was teasin’.” You wince as you interrupt her, feeling a twinge of guilt for your jab. “I’ve never really been in this situation before, so…” You trail off sarcastically, lifting your leather saddle onto Honey’s back.

Your fingers brush over the delicate carvings of vines that adorn its surface before you rub your tired eyes and look at Sevika again. “I forgive you and I mean that but this all feels so weird and awkward. It's never felt like this before."

Sevika nods in agreement. “I know what you mean. It’s alright, angel.” She reassures.

Tilting her head, she moves closer. Her steps are slow and purposeful as she admires the bouquet of scraggly yellow flowers painted on the fender of your saddle. "The kids get to this too?" She asks, a hint of amusement in her voice.

A warm feeling spreads through you at sight of the messy blotches and you nod with an affectionate smile. “Yeah.” You confirm with pride. "Kid’s not as skilled as the carver who did the vines, but I like these better." You say softly, your fingers delicately tracing the crude petals.

Sevika's eyes soften as she looks at the artwork. "It's charmin’. Sweet." She murmurs, looking down at you.

An awkward cough escapes your lips as you turn to secure the buckles of the saddle. “Have you done much explorin’ since you’ve come here?”

She shakes her head as she steps back from you. "Not yet. I’ve been waitin’ for you.” She confesses, removing her hat and running her fingers through her hair with a weary smile.

"Anywhere you wanna head to first?" You ask, glancing over your shoulder at her.

She lets out a soft chuckle. "Dealer’s choice. I’ll go wherever you take me, angel." She responds before mounting her own horse, adjusting her hat back on her head.

Taking a deep breath, you swing your leg over Honey’s back, feeling a slight twinge in your aging joints. “Alright then." You chew on your lip as you settle into the saddle. “Let me show you round the town square. Hope you don’t mind none of the starin’.”

The expression she sends your way is deadpan. “Believe it or not, I’m used to it.”

As you guide your horses out of the stable and into the warm sunlight, you feel a mix of trepidation and excitement. The familiar weight of Honey beneath you is comforting, but Sevika's presence beside you adds a layer of tension and uncomfortableness you can't quite shake.

"The town's changed quite a bit." You say, breaking the silence as you ride side by side down the cobblestone path. "You’ve seen the Inn, obviously, but we’ve even got a proper little schoolhouse.”

Sevika nods, her eyes taking in the sights and sounds around her. "It's grown...a lot." She observes. "Looks more… settled."

You hum in agreement, relaxing just slightly as a sense of pride swells within you. "It has. Took a lot of work, but everybody’s worked hard to build somethin’ good here."

As you continue down the path, you send her a knowing look. “Some of the more untoward places are on the other side of town. One of the newer buildin’s is a boxin’ gym with a fightin' pit."

Sevika hums absentmindedly in response.

Coming closer to the square, you can feel nosy eyes turning towards you both. But you pay them no mind as you lead Sevika into the livery stable and dismount from your horses.

Huck quickly stumbles over to greet you, grasping at the reins tightly as you pass them to him. “Hey Huck, I’ve got two for you.”

“Got it.” He responds with a nod, his glasses bouncing on his nose with each movement. “Always nice to see you.” He adds with a friendly smile, sending Sevika a curious glance.

With a gentle clink, you place some coins into Huck's weathered palm. “As it is you, Huck.” Turning to leave, you wave your goodbye. “See you soon.”

Sevika falls into step beside you, her footsteps light and measured as she follows your lead.

You point out the various changes and additions to the town. The new blacksmith's shop, the expanded general store, and the small library that doubles as a community center.

"And over there." You gesture to a modestly sized building with vibrant splashes of color painted on the side. “That’s the schoolhouse. The mural on the side changes every so often. All the artists in town get together to work on it and it’s a whole thing.”

Her gaze lingers on the school before she follows, giving you a curious glance. “A whole thing?“

You nod, a smile spreading across your face. “Yeah, everyone in town comes to the square to watch and mingle. There’s food. Games. The whole works.”

The two of you stroll towards the heart of the bustling square, drawn by the bubbling melody of a tall and proud fountain. You both take a seat on the cool stone edge, feeling the mist from the water dance across your skin.

"Some of the younger kids come here and toss in their coins for wishes." You explain, gesturing towards the pool below. "It's just somethin’ they like to do for fun."

Water cascades down each tier of the fountain in a gentle rhythm, spilling into the pool below. Sunlight catches on the surface of the water, scattered coins glinting and sparkling. Sevika peers into the water. “Looks like an awful lotta wishes.”

You follow her gaze and nod with a wry smile. "The older kids made a game out of it.” You say, pointing to the top tier of the fountain with a finger. “Challenged each other to see who could toss coins to the top tier. Became quite the competition for a while."

Sevika chuckles softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "You ever take part?"

Your own lips quirk up in a slight grin. "Maybe once or twice." You admit with a shrug. "For demonstration purposes only, of course."

Clearing your throat, you smooth your hand over your lap and glance at your feet. The cool stone beneath you provides little comfort, your heart racing as you gather the courage to ask the question that has been weighing on you. ”Does it… hurt? Your arm, I mean."

Sevika shakes her head, her expression calm but a hint of sadness lingering in her eyes. "Not anymore. Took some gettin’ used to, but now it's just a part of me."

You swallow past the lump in your throat before asking apprehensively. “I- You said there was an explosion?”

A shadow passes over Sevika's face, casting a dark cloud over her features. She nods slowly, her metal hand clenching and unclenching in her lap. “Yeah. They had to amputate it. The burns were bad and I’d lost all feelin’.”

You lick your dry lips and rub your fingertips together as your leg bounces anxiously. “I- I’m glad you’re not dead.”

Your gaze darts towards her at the sound of her chuckle, the corners of her mouth turning up in a wry smile. “Yeah. Me too, angel.”

“When you told me about your accident…” You trail off, glancing at her arm. Rubbing your nose, you swallow a harsh breath and your words fall out of your mouth in a rushed jumble. “I- Maybe part of the reason I forgave you so quick was cause you almost died. And I- As much as I wanna stay mad, I can’t. If you died, I-” Your voice breaks as you choke on your words.

Muffling your sobs, you reach out towards her, needing to feel her. She responds without hesitation, pulling you into her chest.

“M’sorry.” You sniffle into her chest, and she can feel the warmth of your breath on her collarbone.

An amused fondness fills her chest as she looks down at you, mumbling something into the crown of your hair. It must’ve been something you didn’t like because you draw back from her with a huff and a pout on your pretty face.

“I am not. You’re soft.” You protest, poking a finger into her stomach as you wipe the tears from your eyes. “What the hell do you want from me? I- You make me really happy and I- l care about you so much and I dunno what I’d do if somethin’ happened to you, I just-”

A small smile tugs at her lips as she watches you, feeling grateful for you. Her voice sounds muffled in her ears, a hint of playfulness filling her chest.

Collapsing into her, you start crying again. “You can’t say that! You bein’ sweet's makin’ it worse.” You whine.

She chuckles, running a warm hand through your hair.

Sevika's arms tighten around you, her metal hand cool against your back as she holds you close. "Shh, it's alright." She murmurs, her voice low and soothing.

You take a shuddering breath, trying to compose yourself. "I- I just… I missed you so much." You whisper, your voice muffled against her shirt.

She runs her fingers through your hair, the gentle touch sending shivers down your spine. "I missed you too, angel. Every damn day."

Slowly, you pull back, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. You look up at her, taking in the familiar lines of her face, tracing the new scars that mar her skin. "I never really told you cause I was upset, but… you look really fuckin’ good.” You breathily say with a chuckle.

Her thumb wipes away tears as they rain down your skin. “So do you.”

Biting her lip, Sevika hesitantly continues with a tentative smirk. “Bein’ apart from you was hell, angel.”

You roll your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. "Is this gonna be a thing? You’re practically ancient and you find dad jokes funny now?”

Her chest rumbles with a deep, hearty chuckle. The lines on her face crinkle in amusement as she teases. “If I’m ‘ancient’, does that mean you have some sort of older woman kink, angel?”

Falling into the playful banter, you nudge her. “Nah, just means I have a you kink, cowboy.” Groaning, you wipe your face. “Shee-it, I’ve cried more in the last week than I have in the last fucking decade.”

Sevika's expression softens as she looks at you, her left hand gently cupping your cheek. "I'm sorry for makin’ you cry, angel. I never wanted to hurt you."

You lean into her touch, closing your eyes for a moment. "I know." You whisper, opening your eyes to meet her gaze. "I know you didn't."

Her silver gaze is fixed on you, full of regret and longing. "I can't change the past." She says softly. "But I promise you, I'm here now."

A small smile tugs at your lips. "Good. 'Cause if you leave again, the next time you come crawlin’ back to my doorstep, I’ll have the real shells loaded."

Her eyes light up with curiosity as she straightens. “They weren’t real?”

You jump up, ignoring her question and facing Sevika with a mischievous grin as you shuffle backwards. “There's one thing I haven't shown you yet that I think you’ll like."

The cute gap between her teeth is proudly displayed as her lips curl into a satisfied grin. “I knew you were bluffin’, angel.”

You beckon her with a crook of your finger, still moving backwards. "Shut up and follow me, cowboy."

She stands, dusting off her pants before following you with an amused smirk. “Understood. I’m at your mercy, angel.”

Biting your lip, you hum and spin on your heel. “I like the sound of that.”

Weaving between stalls and groups of chattering townsfolk, you send Sevika a smirk over your shoulder. “You still a bettin’ gal, Sev?”

Her dark eyes narrow in suspicion as she responds apprehensively. “I thought you were too old to play games, angel.”

A sly smile crosses your lips as you respond confidently. “Yeah well, I lied, cowboy.”

With the square behind you, you come to a halt in front of a modest wooden building. Its aged exterior bears the name "The Rodeo" in faded red letters above the entrance. You can already hear the sounds of laughter and music coming from inside.

Stopping in front of the entrance, you turn to Sevika with an impish grin. Licking your lips, you narrow your eyes at her and extend your hand. “I bet you won’t last longer than 30 seconds.”

Sevika doesn't miss a beat and confidently accepts your wager. "And what do I get when I win?"

“You won’t.” You chuckle, not letting go of her hand as you pull her through the doorway.

Inside, the dimly lit saloon is thick with smoke and filled with mediocre liquor, average music, and less-than-ideal company. But the main attraction is the shining mechanical bull situated squarely in the center of the bar.

The air is heavy with the scent of whiskey and sweat, punctuated by raucous cheers and whoops from the patrons gathered around the mechanical bull.

Sevika's eyes widen slightly as she takes in the scene. "You're jokin’." She says in a low voice, shaking her head.

You tug her towards the bull, unable to contain your excitement. "Nope. Dead serious. Still think you can last more than 30 seconds, cowboy?"

She quirks an eyebrow at you, a competitive glint in her eye. "You know I can, angel. Real question is, can you?"

You let out a hearty laugh, shaking your head and waving your hand dismissively. "I tame wild horses for a livin’, there's no way I'm gettin’ on that thing. My name would be permanently engraved on the scoreboard."

"Shame, angel. I was lookin’ forward to seein’ you up there." Sevika's silver eyes seem to sparkle with hunger as she smirks and begins to unbutton her shirt. "What are we wagerin'?"

You tap your chin thoughtfully, pretending to mull it over. "If you win, I’ll… buy you a drink. And if I win, I'll add it to your tab of favors owed to me.”

Sevika narrows her eyes cockily with a toothy grin. "Alright, angel. Sounds like a fair bet."

She sends you a playful wink before sauntering over to the mechanical bull. With practiced ease, she swings her leg over and settles into position, gripping the rope tightly with her left hand.

"Ready when you are!" She calls out, a smug grin on her face.

You nod to the operator, and the bull roars to life. It starts slow, rocking gently from side to side. Sevika moves with it effortlessly, her body swaying in perfect rhythm.

As the seconds tick by, the bull's movements become more erratic. Sevika's face is a mask of concentration as she moves with the bull, her body fluid and responsive to each buck and spin.

You find yourself holding your breath, your eyes fixed on her powerful form as she rides. Her shirt fans out as she moves, her cropped tank top displaying each flex in her stomach as she moves.

The crowd around you starts to cheer.

At the 20-second mark, the bull's movements become even more wild and unpredictable. Sevika grits her teeth, her grip tightening as she fights to stay on. Strands of her hair whip around her face.

"Come on, cowboy!" You shout, cupping your hands around your mouth with a grin.

She glances at you with determination in her eyes, a wild grin spreading across her face as she reaches up and throws her hat at you.

You catch it with a whoop, joining in on the loud cheers erupting from the audience.

Finally, with a particularly vicious buck, Sevika is thrown from the bull. She lands on the padded floor with a soft thud, quickly getting to her feet amidst a chorus of admiration and applause.

Sevika struts confidently towards you with a smirk. “Looks like you owe me a drink, angel.”

You raise an eyebrow in response, matching her playful tone. “Looks like, cowboy.” Laughing, you straighten her messy hair and place her hat on her head. “Now, you wanna waste it here or you wanna cash it in on another day?”

Her narrowed eyes sparkle as she lifts her eyebrow. “You got somewhere to be, angel.”

You nod, your lips twitching in amusement. “I do, in fact. But if you take a rain check, I may wear one of them dresses you fancied when we were younger.”

Sevika's smirk widens into a flirtatious grin. “You tryna’ sweet talk me, angel? Cause it’s workin’.” She leans in close to you, her voice a low whisper. “I may just need a little more and you’ve got me hooked, darlin’.”

Tilting your head with a smirk, you pinch her chin between your fingers. “Oh please, Sev. I could walk you like a dog and you’d still be lickin’ my heels, baby.”

Pushing her away playfully, you chuckle and skip towards the door. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to your horse like a real gentleman.” You tease, leaving Sevika grinning after you.

As you make your way back to the livery, a comfortable silence settles between you and Sevika. The afternoon sun stretches along the cobblestone streets, painting the town in warm hues of gold and orange.

You steal glances at Sevika as you walk, taking in the way the light plays across her features. There's a softness to her expression that wasn't there earlier, a hint of contentment in the slight curve of her lips.

Approaching the stables, you hear the familiar sounds of horses nickering and stomping. Huck greets you with a friendly nod as you enter.

"Have a good day?" He asks, adjusting his glasses.

You smile, nodding. "We did."

Huck nods at another worker and they disappear into the stable, returning a moment later with both horses in tow. "There you are." He says, as he hands over the reins. "They've been watered and brushed down."

"Thank you much, Huck." You say with a smile, patting your horse's neck affectionately.

As Sevika tends to her horse, you hang back, watching her gentle movements as she checks the saddle and strokes the animal's neck. "Well I’d hate to sound like an arrogant prick, but I think that must’ve been the best damn tour you’d ever had." You say, with a cocky grin.

Sevika chuckles, shaking her head as she turns to face you. "It certainly was somethin', angel." Her silver eyes sparkle with amusement. "Though I think the company might've had more to do with it than the tour itself."

You roll your eyes playfully, but can't help the smile that tugs at your lips. "Kiss-ass."

She mounts her horse slowly. "Can I meet you at the garden? Same time next week?"

You nod, feeling a flutter of anticipation in your chest. "I'd like that." You wave at her. “I’ll see you then.”

…

The sound of rushed footsteps draws your attention and a fond smile softens your face as a familiar figure appears in the doorway of the school, panting and disheveled. Her short brown hair is wild and tousled atop her head. A flush spreads across her freckled cheeks, adding a rosy glow to her already animated expression.

"Hey, Mo!" She exclaims breathlessly. "No homework today! Can we go practice?" Her voice is eager and pleading, her green eyes sparkling with excitement as she rushes towards you, dropping her bag at your feet. She bounces on her toes, waiting for your answer.

Suppressing a small laugh, you give her a stern look. “Where’s your jacket?”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “Lost it.” She admits with a carefree attitude, still beaming at you. “But that doesn’t matter. I have no homework.”

Before you can respond, she grabs your hand in hers and begins tugging at your arm. “C’mon. Practice? Please?”

With a sigh, you roll your eyes and gently shake her hand away. “Where’d you last remember havin’ your jacket?” You ask, shrugging off your own.

She groans and rolls her head back dramatically. “I dunno. Does it matter?” She pouts, begrudgingly accepting your jacket as you drape it over her shoulders.

“You’ve lost two jackets now, so yes, it does matter.” You state firmly, shaking your head in disbelief. "I'll ask Sky when I drop you off tomorrow." You add with another sigh.

Her face lights up with hope and excitement as she shoves her arms through the baggy sleeves. "So can we? Pretty please?"

Arching an eyebrow, you tilt your head towards her in a silent question. “You know the deal, Bo.” You remind her.

Undeterred, she nods vigorously. “Yeah, yeah. I know. So let’s go home and I can finish early.”

Giving her a nod of approval, you pick her up and help her onto Honey's back. Swinging her bag over your shoulder, you climb on behind her. “How was school?” You ask as you guide the mare in the direction of home.

She slumps back into you with an annoyed groan. “Outside time was cut short cause someone got in trouble and arts an’ crafts isn’t til Friday, so all we did was learn.”

“What happened?” You ask, amused by her tone.

“I don’t know!” She waves her hands out in front of her in exasperation. “One minute I’m playin’ tag with Ren and the next, Ms. Young is tellin’ us we have to go inside. We were only out there for like two minutes. Tops.” She huffs, crossing her arms in frustration.

You chuckle softly at Bo's dramatic retelling. "I'm sure it was longer than two minutes, bug. But I understand your frustration." You give her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Maybe tomorrow’ll be better."

Bo lets out a heavy sigh, her small shoulders slumping. "I hope so. I really wanted to finish the hole we started diggin’."

As you ride, the familiar landscape of your ranch comes into view. The wooden fence lines the property, and in the distance, you can see the stable and the sprawling pastures where your animals graze.

"Alright, bug." You say as you bring Honey to a stop near the house. "Remember our deal. Chores first, there’s a snack in the fridge, then practice."

Bo nods eagerly, practically sliding off the horse before you've fully stopped. "I know, I know! I'll be super fast!"

You smile, shaking your head as Bo races into the house, her excitement palpable as she rushes to complete her chores. You take your time dismounting and leading Honey to the stable, giving her a thorough brush down and some fresh hay.

By the time you've finished tending to Honey and the other horses, Bo is already waiting for you at the edge of the empty field, bouncing on her toes with impatience.

"I'm done! I'm done!" She calls out as soon as she sees you. "Can we start now?"

You chuckle, making your way over to her, a small horse trailing closely behind you. "Alright. Go ahead, kid."

Bo's face scrunches up in concentration as she slowly guides you through the steps of saddling the horse.

A familiar nervous flutter churns in your stomach, reminiscent of a simpler time when you were young and naive. You stand at the edge of the garden, wiping your sweaty hands on your jeans before cautiously stepping into its midst.

The sweet scent of blooming flowers envelops you as you make your way down the winding stone path. Butterflies dance from flower to flower, their delicate wings catching the sunlight.

You spot Sevika before she sees you. She's sitting on the wooden bench, her back straight and her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Even from a distance, you can see the tension in her shoulders, the way she fidgets slightly as she waits.

As you approach, she turns her head, and her eyes light up when they meet yours. “Hey, angel. Hope this isn’t too much.” Sevika clears her throat, a playful glint in her eye as she waves a basket around in her hand. “But we never really got to have a proper date.”

You tilt your head in confusion. "What’d you do?" You say with a suspicious tone.

Sevika's lips curl into a soft smile as she gestures to the space next to her. "Nothin' too fancy, angel. Just thought we could have a little picnic. Seems like somethin’ sweet you’d like." She shrugs, opening the basket, revealing an assortment of foods, and what looks like freshly baked pastries. "Even brought some of those pastries you used to love."

Taking a seat beside her, you eye the spread with appreciation. "You remembered." You say softly, a hint of surprise in your voice.

Sevika shrugs nonchalantly. "Course I did." As she starts to unpack the basket, laying out a checkered cloth and arranging the food, you find yourself studying her.

Coughing, she smirks at you. “You could also ignore the whole romantic gesture and pretend this is a nice meal between friends.” She suggests playfully.

Narrowing your eyes at her teasing tone, you reply. “What the fuck happened to takin’ things slow?”

She chuckles under her breath and removes her hat. “The latter it is then.”

You roll your eyes. “I didn’t say that. You assumed and what’s that sayin’ about people who assume?” You ask, sarcastically.

Sevika's lips quirk up in amusement. "It makes an ass out of you and me?" She offers, her eyes twinkling.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your own lips. "Exactly. And if there’s one thing I know about me, it’s that I’m not an ass. So maybe don't assume, cowboy."

Sevika's expression softens as she gestures toward the food. "Well then, would you care to join me for a picnic, angel? As friends, or… whatever you're comfortable with."

You take a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you consider her offer.

She takes a bite of a pastry. "I can share, angel. I promise not to bite." She mumbles, lifting a questioning brow with a smirk.

Shaking your head, you glance away while a smile grows on your face. "You know that flirtin’ and callin’ us friends in the same breath is kinda contradictory?"

"I’m a natural flirt, darlin’." Sevika quips with a grin.

You scoff out a laugh and examine her with a sarcastic expression. “Yeah. I’m sure, cowboy. You’re real approachable.”

“Course I am. Plus, flirtin’ is about as friendly as you can get.”

You both sit, a careful distance between you. For a moment, neither of you speak, simply enjoying the food she brought.

"So." Sevika starts, wiping her mouth. "How was your week?"

You shrug, letting out a small chuckle. "Busy. Always somethin' to do on the ranch or in town."

"I'm sure." Sevika nods, her eyes curious. "Anythin' in particular keepin' you busy?"

You pause, considering how much to share. "Well, there's always the usual ranch work - tendin' to the animals, deliverin’ stuff into town, that sort of thing." You take a bite of pastry, savoring the taste. "But…” You trail off and swallow.

“But?” Sevika urges.

Sighing, you wipe your hands and look up at her. "I didn't want to tell you because I wasn't sure about where we stood." You begin, your voice cautious. "But I have a kid. A little girl."

You search her eyes for any sign of judgement or rejection, but find nothing. "I don't plan on introducin’ you anytime soon." You continue, treading carefully. "If you're gonna be in my life, you need to understand that she will always be a part of it. You won't be my first priority."

Sevika's face remains unreadable for a moment, her silver eyes searching yours. Then, slowly, a small smile spreads across her lips. "A kid, huh?" She says softly, a hint of warmth in her voice. "I bet she's got you wrapped around her little finger."

You feel the tension in your shoulders ease slightly at her response. "She does." You admit with a chuckle.

Sevika nods, her expression thoughtful. "I understand, angel. And I appreciate you tellin' me." She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "I know I've got no right to ask, but… can I know her name?"

You hesitate for a moment before answering. "Bo. Her name is Bo."

"Bo." Sevika repeats, testing the name on her tongue. "That's a good name."

You nod, rubbing the center of your palm with the thumb of your other hand. “Yeah.”

Sevika nods, her expression serious. “Would you be comfortable tellin’ me about her?”

You study her face, searching for any hint of insincerity, but find only earnestness in her silver eyes. "She's five... almost six now. She's learnin’ how to ride a horse." You say, a fond smile tugging at your lips. "She's got more energy than she knows what to do with, always bouncing off the walls. She's smart. And a smart ass."

Sevika listens intently, her eyes soft as she watches you talk about Bo. "Sounds like a handful." She says with a gentle chuckle.

You nod, your smile growing. "Oh, she is. But she's also the sweetest thing. Always tryin’ to help out around the ranch, even if she's too small for most of the work." You pause, your expression turning thoughtful. "She's got a big heart. Always bringin’ home stray animals and beggin’ me to let her keep ‘em."

"You end up keepin' most of 'em?" Sevika questions, her smile growing.

You chuckle, shaking your head. "No. But we've got a few cats and dogs that have found their way to us thanks to her. But they’ve become part of her chores and she loves ‘em so…"

Sevika's eyes crinkle with amusement. "Sounds like she takes after you, angel. Always had a soft spot for strays, didn't you?"

You laugh and nudge her. "You would know, wouldn’t you, cowboy?"

A comfortable silence falls between you as you both nibble on the food. The gentle breeze rustles the leaves around you, carrying the sweet scent of flowers.

“Is her other parent in her life?” Sevika asks softly after a while.

You shake your head, meeting her gaze. "No. I’m not… I’m not her parent. I’m her guardian." Licking your lips, you wipe nonexistent crumbs from your lap. “Her mama was someone from outta town. She came here alone with a newborn in her arms. Poor girl was a wreck and mama immediately offered to take her in.”

You take a deep breath, your eyes distant as you recall the memory. "The girl, Cass, she was so young. Barely more than a kid herself. She stayed with us for a while, but…" You trail off, shaking your head.

Sevika listens intently, her expression soft and understanding. "She left?" She prompts gently.

You nod, a hint of sadness in your eyes. "She tried, she really did. But she was young, scared. One day, she just… left. Left a note sayin’ she couldn't do it anymore, that she was sorry." You pause, swallowing hard. "And just like that, I became responsible for a sweet little baby."

Sevika reaches out, hesitating for a moment before gently placing her hand on yours.

“Mama was there to help for a while. But she got sick and when she passed…" Your voice trails off, the pain of the memory evident in your eyes.

Sevika squeezes your hand gently, offering silent support.

You take a deep breath before continuing. "It was just me and Bo after that. But we made it work. Friends pitched in, helped out where they could. And now… now I can't imagine my life without her."

Sevika nods slowly, her thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. "You've done well, angel. Raisin' a kid on your own, runnin' the ranch... I'm proud of you."

"Thanks." You mumble, gently pulling your hand away from hers. "It hasn't been easy, but... she's worth it. Every bit of it."

Sevika's hand lingers in the air for a moment before she lets it fall back to her lap. "I'm sure she is." She says softly. "You always did have a big heart, angel. I'm glad you found someone to share it with."

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the heaviness of the conversation. "She's the best thing that's ever happened to me." You admit quietly. "Even if it wasn't planned, even if it was hard... I wouldn't change it for anything."

"Thank you for sharing that with me." She says earnestly.

You shrug, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, you asked." You say with a wry smile. "And I figured if you're gonna be stickin' around, you needed to know.”

You nudge her gently, a teasing smile on your lips. “What about you? Got any kids or scorned lovers you wanna tell me about?… What did you do while you were gone?“

Sevika chuckles softly, shaking her head. "No kids, no scorned lovers. Just me." She pauses, her expression growing more serious. "Everything else… is a long story, angel."

You raise an eyebrow, gesturing to the picnic spread before you. "We've got time, don't we?"

Sevika's head bobs slowly, her chest rising and falling with a deep breath. "We do." Her voice is quiet, almost a whisper, as if she's afraid of being overheard. She takes another moment to gather her thoughts before continuing. "When I left… I did what I could to draw attention away from you. From here.”

“What do you mean?” You lean in, your brows furrowing in concern.

Her eyes grow distant, guilt lines her words. "John, I don’t know how, but when I… There were some dangerous people lookin’ for me and he told them where I was."

Your heart drops as you piece together the puzzle. "Are these people the same ones who hurt you? The reason I found you the way I did?"

Sevika's shoulders slump, her expression pained as she nods silently. "I couldn't risk them coming after you. So I ran.” She continues, her voice low and heavy with regret.

Your body tenses, your fingers curling into tight fists in your lap. "Are they gone now?" You ask, the words strained and laced with anxiety.

She nods, a bitter smile twisting her lips. "Almost dyin’ or not, I wouldn’t have come back if they weren’t." Her voice is low and edged with hurt. Sevika's metal hand clenches and unclenches in her lap as she speaks. "I've done things I'm not proud of."

You listen silently, your eyes never leaving her face as she continues. “But I don’t regret getting rid of the people who made livin’ harder for a lotta good people, better people.”

You take a deep breath, processing Sevika's words. "I appreciate your honesty." You say finally, your voice quiet but firm. "But are you sure there isn’t any chance these people, or anyone associated with them, could come lookin' for you here?"

Sevika nods her head emphatically. "Yes, angel. I made sure of that before I even thought about comin' back." Her silver eyes meet yours, filled with determination and a hint of desperation. "I wouldn't put you or anyone in this town in danger."

You nod slowly, studying her face. "Okay." You say softly, reaching to hold her closest hand.

You send her a small smile and delicately squeeze her hand, unsure if she can feel your touch. Her hand turns in your grasp, fingers wrapping around yours with care. The warmth from her touch spreads through your body like a comforting embrace, despite the coldness of her metal appendages.

Sevika nods, a flicker of relief passing over her face. "Thank you, angel. For listenin'. For not judgin'."

You shake your head slightly. "I'm not in any position to judge, Sev. We've all got our demons." You pause, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you ask with a mischievous glint in your eye. "On a scale of pulsing desire to debilitating lust, how much do you wanna go on another light-hearted date with me?" Your words are laced with playful sarcasm, unable to contain the humorous tone in your voice.

The silver orbs of Sevika's eyes glisten as she gazes at you. A sly smirk curls her lips, revealing the charming gap between her teeth. “Well, angel, I'd say it's somewhere between 'find a mop' and 'it’s gettin’ sticky'."

You throw your head back as you cackle. "Is that right?" You laugh out, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before letting go.

"Only for you, darlin'." Sevika replies with a wink. Her expression softens as she continues. "I'd love to go on another date with you. Whenever you can fit me into your busy schedule."

You shrug, feeling a flutter in your chest. "I’m sure I could squeeze you in after the calf delivery, but before shoveling horse shit.

She quirks an eyebrow. “Is there a shower squeezed in there somewhere?”

You shake your head. “Of course not. You’ll have to take me as I am and will be.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “Ah. Lucky me.” She teases, her tone lighter now. “What about you? You got any exes I need to steer clear of?” She grunts out.

A mischievous grin spreads across your face, a sly glint in your eye as you turn your head to cough before licking your lips and refocusing on her. Your head cocks slightly as you meet her gaze, a playful challenge in your expression. “I've only seriously dated one person but she’s not someone to worry about.” You say, amused.

However, Sevika's expression remains unphased as she raises an eyebrow in silent inquiry.

You roll your eyes before answering her unspoken question. “Grayson. I dated Grayson.”

Her lips stretch into a knowing smirk and she lets out a low chuckle. “I knew you had a thing for older women.”

You laugh and shake your head incredulously, gesturing with your hands for emphasis. “I’m sorry. Have you seen Grayson? Heard her? I mean, tell me you wouldn’t.”

Sevika purses her lips and narrows her eyes in a mock glare. “Alright, that’s enough.”

You can't help but grin at her reaction. "Aw, is someone jealous?" You tease, nudging her playfully with your elbow.

Sevika scoffs, but you can see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Jealous? Of Grayson? Please." She rolls her eyes dramatically. "I'm just… surprised."

You raise an eyebrow, your grin widening. "Surprised that I have good taste?"

Sevika chuckles, shaking her head. "Hardly. I’m just not sure if I’m ready to hear about how attractive you find other women."

"Fair enough." You concede with a chuckle. "Though I think you can rest easy. Grayson and I are just friends now. Have been for a long time."

Sevika nods, her expression softening. "Good to know." She pauses, her silver eyes studying you intently.

You raise an eyebrow at Sevika's intense gaze. "What?" You ask, feeling a bit self-conscious under her scrutiny.

Sevika shakes her head slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Nothin', angel. Just… takin’ you in." Her voice is soft, almost reverent. "You've changed so much, but… you're still you."

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at her words, but you try to play it off. "Well, I should hope I'm still me. Would be weird if I wasn't." You quip.

Sevika chuckles, a warm sound that makes her eyes crinkle at the corners. "You know what I mean." She says, nudging you gently with her shoulder. "You're still the same smart-ass I fell for."

You roll your eyes with a girlish giggle. “Yeah, well. You’re still just as arrogant and witty too, cowboy.” You deflect, feeling a flutter in your stomach at her words. “And you’re still gorgeous. Maybe even more so.”

Her gaze roams over your face, taking in every detail. "You're one to talk, angel." She murmurs. "You've only grown more stunnin’ with time."

You feel a heat creeping up your neck and you look away, suddenly feeling shy. "Oh, shut up." Clearing your throat, you shift in your seat. "Hop off my dick, Sev."

The corners of Sevika's lips deepen slightly as she rolls her eyes. "As soon as you hop off mine, darlin’."

You scoff out a laugh, shaking your head at her. "Oh? You’re callin’ me, the dick rider?”

Sevika's chuckle fills the air, deep and rich. “You��re right.” She backtracks sarcastically. “I love your dick, angel.”

You nod in mock satisfaction. “I know that’s right.” Chuckling, you glance down at the neglected spread of leftover food. “This was real sweet, Sev. Thank you.” You say, genuinely.

A gentle smile tugs at her lips. "You're welcome, angel. I'm glad you enjoyed it."

A comfortable silence falls between you as you both gaze out at the garden, shadows dancing across the flowerbeds.

"I should probably head back soon." You say finally, a hint of reluctance in your voice. "Bo'll be wonderin' where I am."

Sevika nods, understanding in her eyes. "Of course. Don't want to keep her waitin'." She starts packing up the remains of the picnic, her movements slow.

As you both stand, brushing off your clothes and stretching slightly, you find yourself hesitating. “Do you wanna make this a weekly thing?”

She arches an eyebrow with a smirk. “You askin’ me on another date, angel? Series of dates?”

You shrug nonchalantly but inside your heart skips a beat. “What? You got a busy schedule?” You tease sarcastically, biting your lip.

Humming, she slings her packed bag over her shoulder. “Not for you, angel.” She says, stilling you with the adoration clouding her eyes.

Humming in contemplation, you steel yourself and press a quick peck to her cheek. Not pausing to watch her reaction, you turn away. “See yah soon, cowboy. Don’t miss me too much."

Next Part

Taglist: @lez-zuha @jinxjinxjinx12 @asvtrials @rikkivelvet @cupids-dreamland @hwasddeongbyeoli @eroticcaa @urlocalgovexperiment @bubbl3-b4t @balbinoraptor @sleepo-beepo @marn13s-vilewhispers

#western outlaw au #wild west au #outlaw/cowboy sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika #sevika arcane #arcane #league of legends #arcane fanfic #league of legends fanfic #sevika league of legends #wlw #sapphic #lesbian

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rehmes · 8 months ago

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Nothing Solitary about Us : ⋆༘ Wriothesley / reader | headcannons . oneshot

‗ content / trigger warning: bigger story / reader background not fully mentioned, reader is a refugee, Wriothesley swooning (in his own way), thoughts of self doubt, fluff/angst?? Like a weird mixture of the two, not beta read, we die like Wriothesley's adoptive parents. ‗word count: 4k ‗ author's note: If you saw when I accidentally posted this the first time . . . no you didn't! Apologies if it's ooc, a little long, or has errors in spelling. English isn't my first language and this is the first time I've written for Wriothesley! Any suggestions to improve will be much appreciated! :D

Wriothesley could still remember the day he saw you, the day that you had come into the Fortress after, purposefully, committing a crime to gain some sort of refugee status; Why you thought to come to a prison, of all places, to receive such a thing baffled him the most. And it had baffled him for the longest time until you had told him why:

You and The Duke first met when The Duke wasn’t even The Duke; Meeting as cellmates in the Fortress, having been put in the same age group for practically everything that the Fortress had to offer at that time. Which wasn't a lot, and with Wrothesley’s lack of enthusiasm to even look in your direction, it made everything a lot more insufferable. But, Wriothesley didn’t know that; He was just intent on staying out of your way and not causing any more trouble for himself. Likewise, the thought of making friends with you did creep into his mind but so did the doubts that you might hate him after you figured out why he was sentenced here. So, it took a lot for Wriothesley and you to actually begin talking, despite being paired for a lot of the backbreaking activities. And, Wriothesley does still remember that day, too: It was after a tiring shift, where you were both thoroughly whipped out and about to crash at the dinner tables. You both had used coupons to buy food, and didn’t even have the energy to sit at different tables, muchless to open the containers containing your dinner. It felt as though every muscle in your bodies had been torn, limb from limb, muscle from tissue and bone, it was excruciating… and you were about sure you could appeal to the Iudex about this being considered some sort of child labor. Maybe even murder if they kept pushing you both like this. Luckily, you guessed, Wriothesley looked a little better in shape than you did, but he was not far lagging behind. With shaking hands he reached out to open his dinner for the night, to only pause and stare down in horror at what was on his tray. It made you nervous to even peek into yours, seeing the way Wriothesley’s face contorted; A corner of his left eye tightening, his eyebrows furrowing down to create visible creases along his forehead, and a scowl you’ve only ever seen when someone bothered him. A look of pure disgust.

Yet, you still checked yours away. You didn’t know that Wriothesley had glanced up to see if you had gotten the same horror as he did, and by some god awful prank (or pure disluck) you also had the conglomeration on your plate. Some weird, mysterious meat that sat on the plate, sometimes twitching like it was still mooing, sometimes resting as meat should rest. Equally unappetizing and making your hunger even more apparent, as you were tempted to taste the horrific creation that came out of that unsanitized kitchen. “You know,” Your voice caught Wriothesley's attention, as his had drifted down to the plate of food in front of him. His eyes shot up and barely met yours, “it could be worse?” You shrugged your shoulders in a joking way, giving Wriothesley an awkward look paired with an even awkwarder smile. He was a bit baffled at your conclusion, “It could be worse?” He questioned, calm and steady, confused and a bit curious on where you were going to go with such a statement.

In his fatigue, he had broken the one rule he had set for himself in this place; Don’t talk to anyone, don’t make yourself known, don’t make any friends. In his fatigue he didn’t believe answering you would be so wrong nor did he believe that you two would ever speak again after his point, so why not entertain you… and himself.

“At least they didn’t puke on our plate?” The joke fell from your lips with the weakest chuckle you could muster. Your eyes drooped and the pain was evident in the way your eyes shined ever so less than normal. Wriothesley was about to respond, yet you managed to get at it before him; “You know, where I came from, if you didn’t have a fire you had to eat your fish cold! Like, ice cold. And there was nothing you could do about it… other descale the thing and pray you didn’t just eat your last meal.” “Is that right?” Wriothesley cocked an eyebrow up, unsure where you had come from yet didn’t enjoy the images that came into his head. Well, one was particularly funny and it was the thought of you trying to bite into a frozen fish and hurting your teeth. Not like he wanted that to happen, maybe. “Well, don’t give the kitchen staff any ideas or maybe they’ll just import that from your weird homeland.” It had been a while since Wriothesley had laughed, and he couldn’t help but chuckle softly alongside you. The conversation was a ridiculous one, especially when first conversations usually went along the lines of introducing yourselves to each other. Yet, oddly to Wriothesley, it felt about right. And from that day, Wriothesley was sure he didn’t know of a day where he didn’t talk to you. Even if it started with a small greeting in the hallway or pointers on how to do a job more efficiently, small conversation gradually turned into the two of you chatting for hours eating lunch or dinner and even trying to talk after lights out. It finally felt like you had escaped your past and had a friend in a place you named your refuge, and Wriothesley finally felt like he had met someone (though this feeling was slow and gradually coming) that would accept him, despite his past doings.

Wriothesley interlocked his fingers, resting his elbows on the table, and nestled his chin on the finger net he had made. His eyes were softer than usual, yet that piercing blue. Back then, when you two had simply been inmates trying to work out your frustration and struggles with the world; Now, you laid on the couch in Wriothesley’s office in the fortress, with his coat draped over you like a blanket, napping. From outside eyes, you both would look like the perfect couple, yet he hadn’t even managed to ask you the question yet; But, he had an inkling you understood, just as he did, how he felt about you. Otherwise, Wriothesley couldn’t fathom why you decide to spend your nights in his office, keeping him company, when you could be in the nurse wing with Sigewinne or doing “orderly duties” for the fortress above on the surface. It made a small smile twitch onto his lips seeing you, you always managed to do that; But, it also bubbled the age old question in his mind . . . is this life good enough for you? Wriothesley is usually a calm man, a collected one, who didn’t often question why people came to the Fortress and simply gave them a second chance at peace – well, more frankly, at life. He understood how such a thing could quell the anger that simmered in convicts and made it his life work to make sure everyone was treated as fairly as they worked for. Yet, you? You were a different question. He still wasn’t sure why you had come to the Fortress in the first place, yet had deduced from several conversations you came from the Snezhnaya. Sure, he could go into the room lined with file drawers with the reasons why convicts had been placed into captivity, but that room was one, far too crowded for his taste, and two, he didn’t wish on peaking into your personal life. At least, without your permission.

Yet, still, the thought always crossed him on why you were here – by choice! Not that you walked in and checked yourself in, yet you committed many crimes to be noticed in Fontaine, trailed in court, then admitted to your crimes to be placed into the Fortress. The thought of doing such a thing made him cross his arms and lean back in the chair, his eyes more settled on your sleeping form and the way his jacket hugged the curves of your body. You always looked so happy on the surface, to see the sky and breathe the fresh air. Wriothesley wouldn’t want to keep you trapped in the Fortress. “I’ve never seen you so pensive before, Duke!” A voice suddenly appeared besides Wriothesley, causing him to jerk out of his train of thought. He sat up straight, a little suddenly, as he quickly turned to notice the all too familiar nurse of the Fortress: Sigewinne. The Duke played off his thoughts with a chuckle, “Ah, yes, well, I was thinking about something, Sigewinne.” He would half-heartedly joke, as the nurse gave him an all too unamused look. ‘No shit’, was what he was sure she was telling him in her head, but he only responded with a cool snicker. “Well, the tea you ordered from Liyue arrived at the Fortress and I came wondering if you wanted some,” The offer hung in the air, and Wriothesley knew the nurse would tag on a remark. “But it seems like you may need to talk out some problems.” She wasn’t an expert on human emotions, but she was better than spilling his mind to an inmate, Wriothesley guessed… or maybe even you. A pensive hum left the Duke’s lips as Sigewinne walked over, a hop away from skipping, and settled her tray with tea onto his desk. Promptly, she would nestle herself properly into a chair on the other side of Wriothesley’s desk, hands resting over her stomach and a pleased smile on her face.

“Go on, Wriothesley! I’m open ears.” Chimed the Nurse. Though only playful sarcasm came from the Duke as he poured himself a cup of tea, “Hmm, talking about my emotions? That seems like such a fun topic.” He knew it was needed, if not wanted. Even more so when Sigewinne didn’t seem too pleased with his half-hearted answer; As she pouted her lips and let out an extensive huff; “As the nurse, I care for everyone in the Fortress and that includes you too, Duke! Please, don’t make my job any harder than it needs to be.” There was an earnest tone in her voice, and Wriothesley knew she was getting better in her studies.

Even more so when she shook her head after his moments of silence, “Your eyebrows are frowned and your eyes rest everywhere but me or,” Wriothesley’s eyes drifted to you when Sigewinne pointed you out. You had shifted in your sleep, now laying on your back. You were peaceful; It made his eyes soften. He remembered when you used to have trouble sleeping by yourself, never feeling safe enough… Now you were sleeping like nothing in the world could ever hurt you. Like those fears of the past were nothing but fears. And they were; Wriothesley will make sure of it.

Sigewinne’s eyes had drifted off to you too. She was silent as she surveyed the way you slept and then the way Wriothesley lingered his attention on you. “You’re still debating whether or not to tell her, huh?” “And where did you hear that?” There’s the cheeky Sigewinne that Wriothesley knew. Of course, he knew her more caring side as the Nurse but he had a hunch that she also knew about why he had been so “thoughtful” – to put it colorfully. Though Sigewinne would shake her head and smile, “You’re very obvious sometimes! I think even Miss Clorinde knows!” That wouldn’t be good. Not at all. “Does she now?” But Wriothesley had to remain cool, collected. Now, it wasn’t that Wriothesley was embarrassed for others to know of his crush on you – well, by this point, it’s lasted so long he was sure he could dub it love, but better safe than sorry if you didn’t return his feelings – but he was simply cautious about other inmates knowing. After all, you were still technically one of them, an inmate. Your sentencing had been for about three years, maybe four, but you never left. You had chosen to stay since the first day you came, technically giving you a life sentence on your own will. So, if the other inmates know about the two of you – or well Writoehsley’s feelings – it could put your life in danger. There was a tick of silence again, something Wriothesley was rather fond of sometimes… like in this case. Yet, his eyes did not miss Sigewinne standing up from her chair and striding over to where you rested on the couch. There was a careful, cautious, way she held her hand out as she checked you.

“She’s still asleep,” Sigewinne noted.

And Wriothesley hummed in response, “I couldn’t tell.” Where was Sigewinne going with this, Wriothesley’s eyes narrowed slightly, though they were not harsh.

“Maybe she’s dreaming about you, Duke!”

Wriothesley is a hard man to crack. He was the Duke of the Fortress, a peacekeeper among the convicted, and yet sometimes when he was with you he couldn’t help but be that ever so lenient. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to confess to you after Sigewinne had come skipping into his office late one day while you were in her Medical Bay. It wasn’t uncommon, of course, being in the Fortress there were few people to speak to you with the kindness Sigewinne does; And you two often had conversations, even nights where you would have quote-on-quote sleepovers. Yet, today you went due to a headache. And, no less than an hour later, Sigewinne came skipping into his office like she had won the lottery – and Wriothesley half-entertained such a ridiculous thought. “What’s the good news, Nurse Sigewinne?” Wriothesley played along with her bubbly demeanor; Enjoying the change of pace from his slow, meticulous work which dragged on for hours on end. He swore to himself when he was half way done, he would go check on you, yet he was only a ¼. Luckily, seemingly, the news had been brought to him. “Well, they’re doing a lot better! It only appeared to be a headache due to not drinking enough water, but that tends to be normal.” Sigewinne reported as she came to a halt beside Wriothesley’s desk. “But, she also spoke rather colorfully about you!"

“Oh?” Wriothesley’s curiosity peaked, though a voice also nagged him about respecting your privacy. “Is that a good thing, or perhaps a bad thing, Nurse Sigewinne?” He knew she wouldn’t be able to tell him much, as there still was patient confidentiality, even in the Fortress. But, by the way Sigewinne’s face beamed and the way her hands animatedly rested upon her hip, he was sure she was about to tell him to shoot his shot… once again. He thought it was enough she had gotten the others to bug him about it, while also still placing stickers upon his back, but he couldn’t stay angered, or even annoyed, at them for long. Or at all. “I can’t say much, but I say you have a very good chance of landing her, Mr. Wriothesley!” Sigewinne beamed, and Wriothesley swore her smile went ear to ear.

Wriothesley was a private man, as private as one can get for being the Duke of a prison, yet you can always tell how he felt about a person from his actions. He was, and is, a man of few words … he always had been since you two were teenagers. And you never failed to take notice of it. Especially when he first began to give you some favor.

Of course, it was nothing too big, nor grand, when you were teenagers going onto young adults. It was small gestures that would brighten up your day ever so slightly more, like holding open the door for you or walking closer when a nasty group of inmates sent creepy looks your way. He had even gotten into a fight with one of them after they approached you. Wriothesley had walked away for a second, going to get you both your lunch, when he turned around to see the guy grabbing your arm. Seeing you wriggle and writhe under the man’s disgusting touch was more than enough for Wriothesley to send a nasty blow to the side of the guy’s head, which caused him to crack his head open on the floor below. It had been one of the few complications he had gotten into while at the Fortress, and he never regretted it. At least, that’s what he constantly told you and you had to believe his word. But, that event had been the first time that you felt some sort of pang in your heart regarding the, now, Duke; And it surely wasn’t the last. Especially after you were sure that Wriothesley was sending signals your way constantly by his small actions that always made you feel safer, closer, to him.

Yet, you had always had your own reservations on confessing to the Duke; Mostly having to do with where you came from, why you had left, and who was currently looking for you. You didn’t want Wriothesley, no matter how many times he defended you and said he would punch someone’s lights out if they messed with you, to get hurt because of the people you used to know. So you always waited for him to confess… and then tell him the dangers. But, day by day you compiled more and more reasons as to why Wriothesley might love you, and many more reasons why you loved him back. For one, he was a complete gentleman; To that, while he tended to be a little short and cold, he very much made it apparent that you could tell him anything, or even just lean on him if you needed. When you two walked, sometimes his hand would rest on the small of your back rather than your waist, and he would open the doors for you when you entered a building. Then there was the glares to the inmates who tried to mess with you, which was a little less fun to deal with, but a comfort nonetheless, and the visits to the Medical Bay he’d personally take to check up on your well being. There was, of course, a lot more that Wriothesley did that always made you feel special, more than you could ever count in a lifetime. And you were sure if things were different in your life you would have confessed to him long ago about the feelings that continuously welled in your chest, like a rapid river bashing against a dam begging to be freed yet never feeling such freedom. Man, wasn’t that poetic?

“Hey, we need to talk.” Wriothesley’s voice was like a net, catching your attention and bringing it to shore – bringing you back to the present moment and back to Wriothesley. You had been at lunch, having brought up your meal you bought with coupons up to Wriothesley’s office and was currently toying with it on his floor. You would usually be sitting on the couch, waiting for the Duke to spare some attention to you which he tended to grace you with more than others. (Seriously! You had watched Neuvillette have to sit and wait for about an hour or more to speak with the Duke as he finished up some paperwork. It was slightly painful). But, you decided to not test your luck that day and possibly stain Wriothesley’s couch with… whatever you were eating. Honestly, you were so lost in thought you had forgotten what they had served, and now looking at it, it was too much of a mess for your brain to piece together. “A talk? That’s never good,” The sly comment shortly dropped from your lips, a snicker across your face as you glanced up at the Duke. His arms were crossed in a somehow pensive and relaxed (you weren’t sure how that's feasible, but he made it work) fashion as he leaned back against his chair, having taken his eyes off of his work for the first time in a few hours. Unknown to you, he hadn’t been able to complete some of the papers that flooded his desk because his mind kept drifting back to you. You. God, you were so perfect in his eyes. Even if he logically knew that no one could be quote-on-quote perfect, he sometimes chose to ignore that fact for you. Only you, really.

“Nah, I think you’ll like this one,” Wriothesley continued, a chuckle present upon his lips that gave his stubble some light. When was the last time he shaved? The thought crossed your mind. You didn’t mind it, of course, you always enjoyed his stubble, it made him look more handsome in your eyes. But, even so, his looks weren’t enough to evade your skeptical side glance and the cock of your eyebrow. Even if Wriothesley snickered, knowing you had been checking him out a little; After all, he sometimes purposely lets his stubble grow out for you. Wriothesley was a man of few words, and even sometimes his words tended to fail him. So, there was a brief moment that his eyes lingered onto yours, and yours lingered right back to his. A beat, maybe even longer, before he stood from his desk and strided over to where you sat on the floor, kneeling down to your height. And, being so close, you could almost see all the words that were swirling in his head in his eyes; The regrets yet also momentums that wanted to pour out, yet he kept locked inside, as he reached a hand out and wiped a smug of food from your cheek. To others, his face might have seemed cold or indifferent, but you could tell there was some sort of attentiveness in his eyes that gave him away. It always had. And, just like Wriothesley, your own eyes and body always tended to give you away to him. The way your eyes crinkled ever so more when you laughed at one of his poorly delivered jokes. The way you always entertained the joke of Sigewinne being your shared child, much to her dismay, and the way you always naturally floated to his presence when he was in a room.

“You’re a horrible liar, you know that, right?” Wriothesley would tease, as a crinkle appeared in the corner of his eye. You knew what he was talking about and it made your heart flip. Both in a good way and a bad way. You would feel guilty putting Wriothesley into the fire that you had forged, which burnt down everything you had ever known beforehand. And yet, you were unaware that Wriothesley was equally as revered as confessing to you due to the likeness that the Fortress might become your shared home. He didn’t want that life for you as much as you didn’t want your life for him. And yet, despite that, Wriothesley was shooting his shot, as despite all the uncertainties that clouded both of your minds, there will still always be a shared affection for one another that wouldn’t fade easily, if ever. So, you snorted and confessed, “You’re not much better yourself, Duke.” Despite your mind screaming at you differently.

And, it was strangely peaceful to get that heavy weight off your chest, even if it felt like your heart was being crushed all the same. Though, if you were able to weather your own struggles with anyone, you know it would be with Wriothesley – in turn, Wriothesley knew that if push came to shove, you’ll be there to lend him the extra strength to deal twice the blow. And so it always felt right, in your hearts, for you two to be together. Yet, why did that new found heavyweight only grow heavier?

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