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slytherinslut0 · 3 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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shaisuki · 7 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?”

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 1 year 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 · 14 days ago

Text

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

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#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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hellsmayflower · 2 years ago

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📂📂📂

SEND “📂“ FOR A RANDOM YET COMPLETELY USELESS HEADCANON I HAVE 📂 {{ Because of her own childhood,Mayleene doesn't want to have children or to be a parent even if it means she'll end up like her own with bad habits she picked up over the years of ending up taking up some drugs to escape of what she feels from nightmares she sometimes have from suppressed memories. }} 📂 {{ Mayleene likes to listen to some jazz when reading. }} 📂 {{ Her favorite kind of pasta is the seafood kind. }}

#⛤⛥⛥#﹙ ooc ﹚ oᴘᴏ sᴘᴇᴀᴋs #✝️ mun behind the muse ✝️#|| ooc musings ||#{{ triggers mentioned }}#{{ drug mention ; }}

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magichcuse · 2 years ago

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Thinking about the Dueling Dust allergy and how Bre would feel guilty about being allergic to the byproduct of her mother's passion.

#{behind the magic} | ooc #《 especially if someone were to suggest Bre makes Delilah miserable because of the allergy 》#《 even though I'm sure Delilah would find a way to duel that wouldn't trigger her daughter's allergies 》

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rehmes · 4 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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#( masterlist )#wriothesley x reader #wriothesely x reader #genshin impact x reader #fontaine x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley x you #wriothesely genshin #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley fluff #how do you even spell wriothesley??

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 5 months ago

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Chapter 6: Best Friends Forever

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy.

Word Count: 9.9K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), derogatory comments, sexism, swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension, little bit of homophobia (It's Soldier Boy). Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: I know I said I was gonna be more angsty with this chapter, but I got distracted, the sun was in my eyes, and my hand slipped…

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The next morning Mike’s screeching begins all over again, but today he starts with "My Girl" by the Temptations.

He's getting warmer.

You think with a smile, singing along to the song under your breath as you prop yourself up on your pillows with a content sigh. The smell of gardenia wafted over your bed in a gentle wave as your curtains opened, allowing the sunlight to drift over your bed. The beautiful white flowers bloomed from the plant sitting on your bedside table, each petal frosted with mist from the mister hanging on the wall behind it.

Gardenias reminded you of home. They were your grandmother's favorite. There were several large bushes gracing the front yard of her home that rose almost as high as the second story. Whenever you were back home you would make sure that they burst into bloom so she could fill her home with the sweet smelling flowers. It helped you relax and sleep at night, though sometimes it didn't do much to keep the nightmares away.

You hadn't had a good night sleep in a while, but after Ben and you had been up late putting together the bookshelf that stood proudly in the left corner of your bedroom, you were exhausted. Now it was filled with your worn brightly colored paperbacks and covered with a healthy amount of pothos vines as was everything else in your home, but you loved it.

When the delivery men had arrived late yesterday evening and they had been more than willing to carry the couch up the three flights of stairs, but Ben had told them to leave and said "I'm not some kind of pussy that waits for her fucking husband to come home because she needs him to change a lightbulb."

And so they left, leaving Ben and you with the box your unassembled bookshelf came in and a giant three piece couch.

Mike's mother had set up a folding chair with her best friend Mary Ann outside on the sidewalk, drinking glasses of wine and giggling like schoolgirls each time Ben and you came back down to haul another piece of the couch back up into the apartment. He tried to make you sit upstairs and wait for him to bring it in, but you had cussed him out and held up the only finger that mattered.

Putting together the bookshelf hadn't been that much better. Ben had almost broken two of the tiny wooden pegs that secured the back panel all the while cursing under his breath when you tried to show him the instructions.

And being in the presence of the instructions seemed to trigger Ben. It immediately turned the two of you into the couple in the car that bicker over a map before they get murdered in a horror movie.

The shouting got so loud that Mike raced over hopeful that Ben had broken your heart and that he would there to pick up the pieces, while Mike's mother followed in quick pursuit hoping to console Ben.

But when Ben had answered the door sweaty and shirtless- because you'd ripped his shirt on accident when he tried to walk away from you muttering something about "women and their fucking instructions" and you'd grabbed him while shouting "say it to my face you geriatric asshat!"- Mike thought that he had interrupted something else and retreated back to his apartment in shame while his mother stood in the hallway waving a hand in front of her face to calm down.

As annoying as Ben was, you loved the bookshelf. It was perfect for your bedroom and looked a little whimsical, which was how most of your apartment looked with the mismatched vintage furniture, all the plants, and the crocheted blankets. What you couldn't figure out was why he bought it for you.

You had relented on his purchase of the couch, because it did make sense, he was spending the most time on it, but his purchase of the bookshelf confused you. He'd been in your bedroom all of five minutes a few days ago and had only looked at the pile of vine covered books once.

So why did it bother him so much that I had a pile of books on the floor of my bedroom? Why did he have to buy it for me? Why did he care enough to?

No one had ever done that before for you. Your high school boyfriend, Newton, had seen the same pile of books in your bedroom back home every time he came over and never did anything about it, but Ben had only seen it for a moment and remembered.

I don’t understand why he’s acting so nice. You stretch your hands up over your head and begin to get out of bed. Probably because he thinks if he’s nice I’ll sleep with him.

The thought was becoming familiar, but you weren't sure what other reason it could be for. The two of you had nothing in common. He was always angry, sexually forward, annoying, not to mention he was from another century and he didn't understand anything about the present time.

I mean sometimes it's kinda cute how clueless he is about stuff like that. He always gets that adorable frown and- Nope, nope, nope not thinking about that right now.

Bean purrs in agreement with your thought at the end of your bed, stretching his front legs and arching his back. His charcoal fur looks almost silver in the light from the sun that streams through the open window leaving behind the imprint of the brilliant square on your comforter.

Bean had enjoyed watching the two of you put together the bookshelves, well, he enjoyed playing in the box that the bookshelf came in. He ran in and out, back and forth through the openings on both sides of the box, using it like a tunnel all the while Ben complained over the small screws and even smaller pegs that never seemed to fit where they needed to.

Personally you just think Ben was jealous that you knew how to read the instructions and he didn't.

And last night you understood just how bad Ben was at receiving directions. He had ignored you when you tried to help him, which had lead to the yelling match that Mike walked in on.

But you still didn’t understand why he cared so much about the pile of books in your bedroom. They'd been sitting there since you moved in, because you hadn't found a proper place for them, not to mention the pile just kept growing.

At least he didn't look too closely at the titles. The last thing I want Ben to know is how many romance novels I read.

You grab a bundle of your clothes and open your bedroom door, while Mike continues to sing "My Girl." You creep down the hallway, intent on taking a shower, but your curiosity gets the better of you, so instead of going to the bathroom, you peek into the living room.

Ben is sitting on the new charcoal couch that you crammed into the room, reading a newspaper and you have no idea where he got it.

Maybe he already left sometime this morning? Guess he can be quiet when he wants to be.

Bean prances down the hallway behind you and jumps onto the back of the couch, kneading his paws in the soft pillows, before dropping down next to Ben. Ben smiles at the cat and folds the newspaper closed so he can scratch him under the chin.

"Hey buddy." You hear him mutter. "Y/n up yet?"

Bean only purrs and rubs himself further into Ben's hand.

"Don't know how anyone can sleep with that jack-off next door." Ben rolls his eyes, but doesn't raise them from the cat that has begun to crawl into his lap. "Why does she hate me so much?" He whispers to Bean with a sigh.

His question made you freeze where you were standing in the hallway. It was so open, so honest, so completely unlike Ben. It was the last thing you were expecting him to ask your cat, well, honestly you didn't think that he would talk to the cat at all. You suddenly wondered what other things he said about you when you weren't around.

And why does he care so much if I hate him? I mean I don't, he just gets on my nerves constantly, and knows how to press all my buttons.

You liked to think that you were an easy-going person, but Ben drove you crazy. You'd never met anyone who could do that to you before, never allowed yourself to get angry, not even when Poppy Mansfield who put chocolate pudding on your seat at lunchtime when you were in fourth grade and made everyone think you'd pooped your pants. You'd only shrugged and walked to the bathroom, it was Annie who lost it. Annie had grabbed a handful of pudding and smeared it on Poppy's face and earned her the nickname "Poopy Poppy" until she transferred to another school at the end of the year.

But not with Ben, he crawled under your skin and stayed there whenever he teased you . Usually you let insults and teases roll off your back like water off a duck, but not with Ben. He knew what to say to make you lose your temper. You didn't know how he did that.

Not all the time though.

The trip to IKEA had been kind of fun, well, fun until Ben had insulted your boss and when the two of you watched a movie together it was fun.

In fact, the more time you spent with him, the more you were starting to like him. You wish you didn't. It just made everything harder. You remember what he said at the plant shop, tried to burn it into your heart, that he didn't care about feelings or emotions and you did. You wanted to be with someone who cared about that, someone who understood everything about you, and loved you. You wanted love so bad your heart ached sometimes, and yes maybe you read way too many romance novels, but you wanted something like that to happen to you. You wanted to be so wrapped up in someone else that the world faded away, someone kind and sweet, who remembered little things like how much you liked gardenias or how much you loved pineapple iced tea from the place just around the corner and someone who would be okay with sitting on the couch or in bed, with you laying back in their arms while you read your newest book or tried to crochet.

Ben didn't care about any of that, probably what he would call "pussy shit." He just wanted sex, plain and simple, nothing more, nothing less.

And you didn't want just sex.

You didn't want to start something with Ben, develop strong feelings for him, and then only have him push you away as soon as he got what he wanted. You couldn't handle having your heart broken again. Newton had been enough and after him you told yourself you were going to try harder, were going to find someone who saw your self-worth. Of course that had been a few years ago and each year kinda felt like another nail in the coffin when you went on countless dates with people who never seemed to want the same things you did.

Plus, you were sure that Ben was only interested in you because you kept saying no and that made you "exciting" or whatever. So that just meant you were going to have to keep trying to find someone else.

You take a step back into the hallway, creeping further away as silent as possible. You didn't want him to catch you spying on him and you didn't want him to know that you had heard him ask Bean that. You force your door closed, before putting your clothes in the bathroom and shuffling down the hallway, purposely being as loud as you can so Ben can hear you over Mike's inhuman screech.

“Good morning.” You say as you enter the living room, as if it’s the first time.

“Morning Petals.” Ben looks over the back of the couch. He smirks as his eyes trace over your body. “Don’t you look delicious this morning.”

Your shorts were a little shorter than what you usually wore, hitting the middle of your thigh, and the oversized shirt you wore hung over them giving the illusion that you weren't wearing anything underneath it.

He is so confusing sometimes. Maybe he really just doesn't know how to talk to a woman in this century. Did that really work for him before? Does that work with all his dates?

“Thanks.” You say dryly.

Ben’s smirk twitches and something passes through his eyes that looks a little bit like regret, but it’s gone as soon as you see it.

You turn towards the kitchen. You didn’t know what you were looking for, truthfully you were just making conversation because you felt bad about what Ben asked Bean. You didn't know why that hurt you so much for him to think that you hated him, maybe it had something to do with everything that he'd been through. You wave a hand, perking up the plants in the box over the sink and the raspberry and blackberry vines covering the refrigerator to distract yourself.

“Um-“ You begin, but Ben interrupts you.

“There’s coffee in the microwave!” Ben suddenly blurts.

“What?”

Why is it in the microwave? Shouldn't it be in the coffee maker?

You sniff the air for the tell-tale smell of coffee, but smell nothing. A glance in the direction of the coffee maker reveals that the pot is still sparkling clean from when you washed it out last night.

Is he really lying about coffee? It's like he wants me to hate him.

“Um I mean-“ Ben clears his throat. “I got you coffee.”

“You got me coffee?” You parrot, surprised. “When?” You turn to look at him. He's watching you from over the back of the couch and he almost looks a little awkward, like he's not sure where to go from here as if he's not sure what to do when he does something nice for someone.

“I went to get a newspaper and I walked past a coffee shop.” He shrugs as if suddenly uninterested turning back around to face the jasmine covered wall, picking his newspaper up and opening it.

But you have a suspicion that he wasn't actually reading it, that he was just using it as a prop so he didn't have to look at you anymore.

“Oh. Thanks." You open up the microwave and withdrawal the still warm coffee mug taking a sip.

How in the fuck did he know how I like my coffee? You think to yourself, about to do a spit take you were so shocked, because the coffee was perfect. "How did you know-"

"I read the label on the one plant boy bought you the other day." Ben doesn't look up from his newspaper. "Is it… okay?" He asks it tentatively and a little awkward.

"Yeah. It's perfect actually. Thank you." You say it almost robotically. You couldn't believe that he remembered something like that about you. That he actually thought about you when he went to get a newspaper this morning.

He grunts a "You're welcome."

You take another sip and place it back in the microwave. Preparing to go back to take a shower.

"Do you…" Ben clears his throat again. "Do you work today?" He says it hesitantly.

"No. I usually have Friday's off because Annie and I make plans, but this week she cancelled because Hughie got tickets to some concert a few hours away and they're making it a day trip or whatever." You tried not to sound disappointed, but Friday's were usually you and Annie's day. You would plan random trips to shops in NYC, go to brunch, find ridiculous tourist attractions, try new restaurants, or you would go spend the day in Central Park reading. But Friday nights were wine, greasy pizza, sushi, Chinese food, snacks, and movie nights, had been since your parents died. It had been a family tradition before, Friday night films, but when they died Annie took it upon herself to continue it with you because your brother hadn't been willing to. Of course, when you were kids there wasn't wine, there also weren't movies with Glen Powell or Pedro Pascal, but as you grew so did the films and the conversations and the men, but your friendship blossomed with it.

"Oh." Ben leans his head back over the back of the couch, the smirk back in full force. "Well I've got a few ideas for what we could do today. Sounds like you're a little disappointed there Petals. I'm sure I could cheer you up."

You roll your eyes. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Great, I need one too." Ben jumps to his feet, leaving the newspaper on the couch as he turns to follow you.

"Ben." You sigh his name in frustration.

This is exactly what I'm talking about, he does something really nice and then he follows it up immediately by trying to sleep with me. Is that what this is to him? Do something chivalrous to make me like him and then finally let him fuck me?

It made you angry that he believed it would work.

"What? It'll save water and I just want to make you feel better Petals." Ben wiggles his eyebrows. "You sounded so sad when you said that Annie ditched you-"

"She didn't ditch me!" You snap. "She just had plans with Hughie that's all. And I can't believe you!"

"What the hell did I do?"

"You think that doing something like buying me coffee will get me to sleep with you."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about! You're trying to act all chivalrous and nice just so that you can get me to finally sleep with you. But I'm not going to fall for it Gramps! I am not going to sleep with you just because you do one nice thing for me or try to pretend to care about me." You turn and stomp down the hallway, leaving Ben absolutely speechless in the living room.

When you get in the bathroom you blast your ABBA Gold Album from your Bluetooth speaker to drown out Mike's singing and to drown out your insane internal monologue. And when the music doesn't work, you start to sing the lyrics to the familiar songs letting the melodies soothe you.

You’d liked ABBA since you were a kid. Your mom would listen to it when she was cooking in the large kitchen in your childhood home and when your father got home from work at the end of the day he’d creep up behind her and pull her away from the stove for an impromptu dance.

Your childhood was filled with so much love from two people that were absolutely head over heels. And it made you want that too. It’s why you wouldn’t give in to Ben, because the memories of your parents and the love they shared still warmed your heart years after you’d last seen them.

You dry your hair with a towel, continuing to sing as you dress in your jeans and t-shirt, hoping that you could just escape the apartment by going to Central Park and read on your favorite bench to avoid seeing Ben. You were maybe a little embarrassed that you had yelled at him again. You never intended to.

Maybe I can just creep past him.

You think to yourself as you open the door of the bathroom, but as you step into the hallway you trip over something big on the ground and begin to pitch forward with a started screech. The thing you tripped on catches you so that you fall directly into Ben's lap, your legs on either side of his thighs. You realize that it was Ben you tripped on, who had decided to lounge with his back against one of the walls of the hallway, his legs bent at the knee, directly outside of the small bathroom.

As you fall into his lap, your hands land on his shoulders grabbing tightly in fear and surprise, while his hands catch your hips, pushing up the shirt you had just changed into enough that his hands are resting on a sliver of skin that peeks between your shirt and your favorite pair of jeans.

You weren't expecting it to feel so damn good for his skin to touch yours, to feel the roughness of his hands against the soft skin of your hips. Your hands are still gripping his shoulders tightly, heart thrumming in your veins as you lock eyes with him, adrenaline from the fall still rushing through your veins. He looks as surprised as you do. His face is so close that you can feel his breath on your lips, his body warm and hard beneath yours, and it's making you have flashbacks of the other night when he kissed you in front of Mike, when Ben crushed you against him and kissed you with so much passion that you couldn't equate it to anything else you'd ever felt in your entire life.

You weren't about to admit that aloud, that the kiss you shared with Ben was the best one you'd ever had. And you weren't going to admit that if he kissed that good, you were betting that he would be the best you ever had at other things too. Newton hadn't exactly been a Casanova, and you'd hoped that Newton would have gotten at least a little better at some things the more you two were intimate, he hadn't. You'd also hoped that Newton would have been more concerned about you the closer the two of you were, but each time you were a little disappointed and he was, well, happy.

No. Not thinking about sex right now, not when I'm sitting on top of Ben for fucks sake.

That was a little detail that you were trying very hard to ignore, but it was difficult, not when you could feel everything that made Ben-ahem- Ben, beginning to get interested in your position on top of him.

Ben's eyes are dark, focused on your face, an emotion swimming behind them that makes something snag under your ribs and try to yank you forward, to close the distance between the two of you. His eyes flick from your eyes to your mouth for just a millisecond, moving his face an inch forward, just enough that you can feel the warmth of his lips, but they still do not touch.

"Ben what are you doing on the ground?" You say leaning back to lengthen the distance between your faces, but you can't force your voice into more than a hoarse whisper.

"Dropped my keys." He lies.

"Ben?"

Ben hesitates for a moment. "You've got a pretty voice, wanted to hear better." He admits under his breath, looking as if you caught him with a baseball bat outside your broken kitchen window.

What?

You could feel yourself flushing to the roots of your hair. You'd forgotten that he could hear you in the shower and forgotten that his hearing was so good that he’d be able to pick up what was Mike and what was you. “I’m sorry if it was too loud-“

“No. It was nice.” The end of his mouth twitches in half smile, eyes twinkling impishly. “I’d never tell a woman she was being too loud. I like that doll."

You roll your eyes at him, but his comment doesn’t annoy you this time. You wondered if that was because you were getting used to him and the way he was.

You wanted to kiss him so badly that your lips were aching. He always looked so good and right now was not an exception. Some of his dark hair had fallen forward over his forehead and your fingers itched to push it back, to drag your fingertips over his skin and feel the dips and grooves of his handsome face. The smell of his shampoo was everywhere, spicy and familiar in the best way.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” You whisper. Your hands hands have fallen from his shoulders to rest against the front of his shirt. You don’t really remember when you did that, just that now you can feel the warmth of his chest and the subtle beating of his heart in the palms of your hands. “I think I am kind of upset that Annie cancelled on me today.”

“It’s okay, I'm used to it." Ben's hands are still on you waist, firmly keeping you on top of him. “You always seem to yell at me.”

"Shut up I do not yell at you that much." You laugh, pushing back on his chest playfully.

Ben smiles, but then you watch it drop.

“Look I didn’t get you coffee because I thought it would make you let me fuck you. I got it because you always say you need it to deal with me.” The way he says it breaks something, because he sounds almost sad and you’d never heard him sound that way before. “And I figured that I would see you today and that you’d need it.” He drops his gaze to where your hands are placed on his chest. He’s watching them curiously, like he can’t quite understand it.

Honestly you couldn’t understand what was going on either. Ben was holding you gently, almost reverently on his lap. It was odd. You’d never seen him be this way with anyone.

“Ben-“ You sigh. “I need coffee to deal with everyone, not just you. You’re not special.” You joke to get him to smile again, but he doesn’t instead he continues to look at your hands.

“Hey.” You whisper and this time your hand drifts softly to Ben’s cheek holding his gaze on you. His eyes widen slightly with your bold touch. “Ben I don’t hate you. I just-“

There’s a loud frantic knocking at the front door that startles you off of Ben and on to the ground beside him.

“Were you expecting anyone?” Ben asks as he stands up and holds out his hand to help you.

“Um- no actually.” You reply taking it.

The frantic knocking starts again.

“Do you think it’s Mike checking to see if we broke up again?” Ben snorts.

“I think it might be his mom hoping you answer the door shirtless. Almost gave that poor woman a heart attack.” You start to walk through the living room.

“I remember you having a similar reaction a few days ago Petals.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Though I will say if you ever decided to walk around the apartment shirtless I’d be perfectly okay with that.”

“I did not. And I’m sure you would.” You roll your eyes. “But I doubt you’d be okay with letting me answer the door like that since you seem to be so jealous. Are all the men from your generation so possessive of women they can’t have? Or is it just you?” You tease, remembering how he reacted yesterday afternoon at IKEA in front of Jake.

You doubted that he was jealous. Ben didn’t have anything to be jealous about. He seemed to be plenty happy with the women he found on tinder and you thought it was ridiculous that he needed to have you too.

You glance back over your shoulder to look at Ben seeing if he’s preparing another insult. He’s gone stick straight, his jaw clenched tightly, eyes dark, frown deepening.

Shit I was just kidding but-

You turn back to look at the door but can’t fight the tight feeling that rose in your chest when he looked at you like that.

Get a grip.

You interrupt the next bout of frantic knocking by opening the door.

A man in a rumpled navy suit stands out side the door, a bright blue quilted baby bag covered in elephants hangs from his left shoulder, a little girl holds on to his left hand, while a little boy screams shrilly and hangs from his right arm.

“Mr. Wilson- hi-“ You stutter, surprised. “Are you alright? Here-“ You reach to take his almost one year old son, Josh, from his arms. Josh continues to wail loudly, shaking his head back and forth.

“Can you please watch the kids?!” He says eyes frantically looking around the apartment behind you and focusing on Ben.

Mr. Wilson was another one of your neighbors, but he and his wife lived on the fifth floor. You’d met the Wilson’s by accident when Martha, the five year old holding on to his left hand wearing a bright pink tutu, decided to ride the elevator down to the lobby all by herself and met you while you were moving all your stuff into your apartment. She’d declared you her best friend as soon as she saw the colorful assortment of flowering plants you were lugging through the lobby of your apartment building in a cardboard box. You’d babysit for the Wilson’s sometimes when they needed a few quiet moments alone and on date nights. Not to mention they had a ton of money and paid almost five times per hour the amount you made in an hour working at “Please Don’t Die.”

Josh wails, his face turning bright red, so loud that Ben flinches behind you. You remember what he said about the supe that blew out his eardrums and can't help but feel a little sorry for him. Your own hearing was only a little better than other people's, but not enough to be as bothered as Ben.

“Hey little guy, its okay.” You coo gently bouncing Josh on your hip to make him stop crying. He sniffles and wraps his arms around your neck, gurgling quietly as he catches his breath.

“Y/n!” Martha shouts putting your right leg in a choke hold.

“Hi Marty.” You smile down at her, adjusting your weight so you don’t drop Josh. You look up at her father. “Mr. Wilson, I'm just not sure that now is the right time."

You think about Ben standing behind you and how horrified he looked when the children descended upon you, as if they were ticking time bombs. You weren't sure if you wanted Ben around kids, or if he had ever been around children before. He wasn't the best influence, not to mention you didn't think that he would be able to filter what he said or what he did around the,

“My wife she just-“ He swallows brown eyes wide. “She just went into labor."

"Oh. OH. Well-"

They had been expecting their third child for a while now, something that had resulted from you taking care of Josh and Martha more and more, and Mr. Wilson's promotion at work. You had learned before Mr. Wilson by accident when you reached down to pick up Josh's binky that was on the ground and your ear brushed against Mrs. Wilson's almost completely flat stomach and you heard the heartbeat.

“Please! I’ll pay you triple the hourly rate and her mother will be here tonight to take over for you.” The man looks close to getting on his knees and begging you. "You won't have them for long-"

Have a heart she’s going in to labor. What else is this poor man going to do? Drag the kids there with him? A part of you whispers. But then they'd be stuck here with Ben all day long. Well, maybe he will leave.

“Okay.” You relent with a sigh.

“Thank you!” Mr. Wilson exclaims shoving the bag into your free arm and then disappears from the doorway without saying goodbye to his children, but you were going to cut him some slack. You understood that when a woman went into labor most men didn't understand what to do with that information.

Shit. You grit your teeth to avoid saying it aloud when taking the bag throws you off balance. With one kid still hanging from your leg and the other one hanging from your neck, it was difficult to maneuver with the bag too.

Ben’s hand appears in your line of vision and he takes the bag, practically with one pinky.

“Show off.” You mutter, but turn your attention to the little girl hanging from your leg.

“I want a flower crown!” Martha crows.

“Okay sweetie just give me one second.” You take another step with her holding on to your leg.

“Now!”

“Martha.” Your voice turns stern as you look down at her and she pouts. "Please let me get Josh situated first."

“Fine.” She pouts and lets go of your leg.

The relief you feel is quickly overshadowed by Ben standing there, holding the diaper bag out from his body like it’ll bite him. Honestly you wished you had your phone ready to take a photo of Ben holding the bag, and then use it as blackmail.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ben asks looking down at the two children confused.

“Shh language!” You snap, eyes widening as you look down at Martha and Josh. Josh has begun to pull your hair from the ponytail at the back of your neck.

"What language?"

You give Ben a death stare wincing when Josh yanks the hair tie out. Martha has let go of your leg and is looking up at Ben with the same fascination that you'd seen her look at Prince Charming from Cinderella.

Guess it works on girls of all ages.

You think about telling her that Ben might be charming from a distance, but he isn't anything like a prince. Honestly, you were more worried that Ben was going to act like a total dick and crush this little girl's heart.

"Hi." She waves her hand at him. "I'm Marty."

Ben stares down at her, as if he's deciding whether or not to say his name aloud. "Ben." His eyes flick back to yours. "What are you doing?"

"We have had the money conversation many times, but I guess you must be getting forgetful in your old age, so we can have it again." You smirk. "Some of us weren’t born with a silver spoon in our mouths or have a trust fund. I don’t have money, therefore, I babysit to get some extra cash sometimes. Hence the children.” You wave your free hand commanding the vines to open up the pantry and grab Josh's high chair out to set up for you. "I told you that I work several jobs."

"What do you mean several? You said that you worked for Butcher and plant guy." Ben huffs, still holding the bag.

"You know his name is Jake. And we live in America if you can't remember. You know? America home of the free, home of the brave single woman trying to make ends meet and pay for her crappy apartment by working fifty million jobs?" You begin to buckle Josh in to the high-chair. "But thanks for showing me how to fix the plumbing under the sink. Definitely going to add that to my job application.

"How many jobs do you have?"

"I mean it’s really what I do when I’m not working for Butcher. I works at the plant shop, I babysit, sometimes I’m a dog walker, oh and there’s this senior living facility a few blocks over that I run errands for when the people living there need me."

"You run errands for senior citizens? What kind of fucking person does that?"

"LANGUAGE! And this freaking person does that thank you. It's not all that bad. Plus I thought you were going to act like them when I first met you, but you are more h-a-n-d-s-y." You spell it out because you don't want the kids to say it. "Oh and I'm also a gardener."

"A gardener?"

"Sometimes." You shrug. "But now that you've met the kids, it's time for you to go."

“What?”

"I don't want him to go." Martha stomps her little foot enclosed in a bright pink sparkly flat.

You ignore her and reach for the table part of the high chair, strapping Josh in. He's wearing an adorable pair of overalls and a teddy bear t-shirt underneath. Despite his early hissy fit in his father's arms, Josh is smiling happily at you, his wild curly black hair sticking up in different directions. “I’m not going to let you be around a kid. You're barely on your best behavior around me."

“What do you think I’m gonna do?”

“I don’t know. Smoke a doobie, roll a doobie, make horrible life choices, drink, curse-“ You cross your arms over your chest and turn to face him, raising an eyebrow.

“You really don’t see me in a positive light.” He smirks at you. It's hard for him to pull off when he's still holding the bright blue bag covered in elephants. It was quilted, probably a knock off Vera Bradley, which only made you wish for your phone even more.

“No I do not.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Fine, just go watch TV in my room. But if you start going through my underwear drawer I swear I will cut off your D-I-C-K.” You spell the word and narrow your eyes, letting them flash bright green to emphasize your point.

Martha is still staring up at Ben, upset at the idea that he's going to go anywhere. "Wait y/n! Please let him stay, he can help me braid Betty's hair!" Betty was Martha's favorite doll, one that you were sure was in the sparkly backpack that hung across her back. Another photo opportunity you did not want to miss.

“I don’t want to go in there.” Ben states.

“Well that’s the first time you’ve ever said that. Usually you’re all for going in my room.” You huff, before turning to look down at Martha. "Alright, you want jasmine like last time? Or do you want some Lavender too?"

"Strawberries!" Martha exclaims.

"Strawberries!" Josh echoes, mashing his meaty fist on the tray not quite comprehending.

"Alright, but you remember. Our little secret right?"

Martha and Josh's parents didn't know you were a supe, they figured that you really liked plants and that Martha's occasional flower crowns came from you manually making them, not from you waving your hand and watching the stems weave together. You weren't sure how the Wilson's would react to finding out that you were a supe. They were more straight laced than you.

Probably also wouldn't like Ben hanging around if they knew who he really was. Actually I'm surprised that Mr. Wilson didn't ask more questions about Ben when he saw him.

Martha nods eagerly.

"Secret?" Ben asks.

"The Wilson's don't know I'm a supe." You murmur so only Ben can hear plucking a strawberry from the plant on your kitchen table. Secretly it was your favorite plant and it was much older than all the others in your apartment, encased in a hand-painted pot.

It was the first plant that you ever grew, sprouted from the chopped strawberries on your high chair tray when you were nine months old. Your parents had potted it inside the house and since then it had never wilted, and it never would. It meant everything to you, weird as that may be, strawberries were like a good luck charm and the plant that sat on your threadbare circular kitchen table was the symbol of your origin story.

"What do they think all the plants are?"

"They just think I like plants." Your eyes are glowing bright green allowing the strawberry in your hands begin to grow a stem and leaves, the stems weaving together to form a circle, sprouting small white flowers that ripen into red fruit, delicately intertwining to create the crown that Martha wants.

She squeals happily when you put it on her head and dances past Ben into the living room on tip-toe.

"You want one too Gramps?" You smirk at Ben.

"Tempting, but no."

"Alright." You look back at Josh, who has begun to chew on his chubby fist. "Are you hungry? I think you're hungry." You turn to look at Ben who is watching Martha do a mock impression of a ballerina with a horrified expression. "Ben can I see the bag?"

His head snaps in your direction. “Why?”

“Because it’s a magical bag with baby food in it.”

He holds it out and you snatch it away.

“Geez. Calm down Petals.” Ben leans against the counter behind you watching you methodically take out the jars. “Now what?”

“Well Sherlock, I’m going to feed the baby.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I know! I know!” Martha screams jumping up with her hand in the air. “Oh please!”

You bite back the urge to laugh. “Yes Marty?” You act as if you're calling on her in class.

“He can help me make friendship bracelets!”

Ben scoffs and rolls his eyes while crossing his arms over his chest. “Like hell I’m gonna-“

*Twenty Minutes Later*

“Please tie another knot for me.”

“No.” Ben grunts

"You're funny." Martha laughs and hands Ben the elastic string so she can start another friendship bracelet.

She was wearing the one that she had spent the last twenty minutes on, a string of bright pink, light pink, hot pink beads, and white pearly stars broken up by the name Marty. Ben had sat there the whole time next to her, pouting while occasionally throwing angry looks at you like it was your fault.

It's not.

You couldn’t understand why he stayed. You figured that he would leave to go on a date or try to escape as soon as Martha mentioned the words "friendship bracelet," but he hadn’t. He sat there at the kitchen table with Martha, whose little legs hung over the front of her chair, her face tight with concentration as she made friendship bracelets.

You’d taken two photos and you were very excited. But you’d been more focused on feeding Josh. He was still eating bits of strawberry and watermelon, but you would give him the occasional bite of teether.

Ben had looked like he was going to throw up when you broke off a piece for yourself.

It wasn't that bad. Kinda like eating a piece of flavored cardboard.

"You really like the watermelon huh?" You ask Josh taking another piece from the plastic container and cutting it up so it's small enough for him to eat.

"Waa waa." Josh mumbles picking up another piece. The red sticky juice was running down his little arms and each time you tried to wipe him off he would scream "No!"

You figured that he had learned that from Martha.

You hold out the circular Tupper-ware of watermelon out to Ben, who takes a piece, still frowning at you the whole time.

He's got to lighten up.

“Benny pick a color for me!” Martha says shuffling her fingers through the organized little boxes of her friendship bracelet kit, the beads rustling loudly against the plastic sides.

"It's Ben."

"Benny!" She whines. "Pick a color."

Ben sighs heavily as if she’d asked him to stab himself. He was probably considering that to get out of this hell. “Green.”

“Light green or dark green?”

“I don’t give a-“

“Ben.” You growl under your breath staring at him.

He sighs again sinking lower in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “Dark green.”

When Martha finishes the bracelet it has light green, dark green, and black beads with brilliant pearly white stars and the name Ben spelled out on the strand. She hands it to him. “This is for you. Now we’re best friends forever.” Her face turns serious. “Guard it with your life.”

Ben holds the bracelet between his thumb and index finger, frowning down at it. For a second you hope that he’s not going to throw it away in front of Martha. You noticed that she was trying to impress him the best she could and even you had to admit that her bracelet making skills were unmatched. You were also a little jealous. She didn’t make one for you.

But then Ben does something you didn’t think you’d ever see him do, but puts it on. “Thanks.” He grunts and Martha’s smile is so wide you’re sure it would blind anyone in a ten mile radius.

You’re surprised, so surprised that you drop the watermelon you had been holding on the ground.

What in the actual fuck is happening? He’s being so nice to her.

“Y/n, pick a color!” Martha shouts handing Ben another piece of elastic to tie a knot in.

“Um- light green.” You say, but you can't look away from Ben.

Am I hallucinating?

You were so shocked at his behavior. Yes he was still being a little bit of a dick, but he hadn't done anything that bad in the time that the children had been here, just occasionally curse.

The bracelet that Martha makes you looks a bit like Ben’s, except you have light green, dark green, purple, and black beads with white pearly stars broken up by your name.

"Thank you Marty." You smile at her and roll it on your wrist.

"Y/n?"

"Yes sweetie?"

"I have to go to the bathroom." She stands from the chair and hops from foot to foot. "I don't want to go by myself, the hallway is scary!"

"Oh okay." As soon as you get up Josh begins to wail, face turning bright red as he does, pounding his little fists against the tray of the high chair, sending pieces of strawberry and watermelon flying everywhere.

Oh shit.

"Hey it's okay Joshie." You unclip him from the high chair and pull him into your arms, bouncing him to make him stop crying.

"Y/nnnnnnnnnn!" Martha whines, continuing to hop from foot to foot. "I really have to go."

"Well I- um." Your eyes dart to where Ben is still sitting at the kitchen table, cringing slightly when Josh gives another particularly loud wail.

Am I really about to do this?

"Ben can you take him for just a second."

"What?" Ben's eyes widen.

"Please? I have to take Marty to the bathroom."

"She can't go by herself? Suck it up or whatever?"

"It's dark Benny!" Martha cries, peering around him down the hallway. "I don't want to go by myself."

"But-" Ben begins to say.

"Please Ben." You plead.

He curses under his breath. "Fine." He stands up and takes Josh from your arms, holding him away from his body in the air with both hands like Josh is a live grenade, which only makes him scream louder.

Martha grabs your hand and begins to drag you down the hallway, while Ben grimaces at the wriggling child in his arms. "Try holding him against your chest." You say to him as Martha continues to pull you towards your small bathroom.

I am definetly getting a night light for this hallway. Then again, she doesn't even like it when the lights are on. She said that the yellow glow looked "creepy." But I don't think I should leave Josh alone with Ben. What if he drops him or kills him or- shit why did I do this.

As soon as Martha is finished and has washed her hands you return to the kitchen prepared for the worst, but then you see Ben. His back is to you, but he's gently bouncing Josh in his arms who giggles happily over Ben's shoulder at you.

"See you just need to man up." You hear Ben say. "The ladies don't like a man who cries kid, take it from me."

You smile to yourself. And if you thought that Ben was gorgeous before, Ben standing with a baby making a baby smile, makes something primal at the back of your mind begin to stir and unfortunately makes every plant in your general vicinity burst into bloom. The smell of gardenia, hibiscus, honeysuckle, and lavender hitting you in a strong wave as they do. You weren't sure what instinct it was, all you knew was that the image of Ben and the baby would be very difficult to wipe from your mind.

"Did you miss me Benny?" Martha shouts coming up behind him, her strawberry crown still perched over her dark braids.

"Um." Ben turns around to look at where you're standing at the edge of the kitchen. He looks a little sheepish, like he didn't want you to catch him with a kid.

That's understandable. Hughie told me how he reacted to seeing a diaper commercial. The guy just doesn't seem to be the most gentle or really loving. And yet look at how he is with Josh.

"Of course he did Marty." You smile rubbing her back. "Right?"

"Sure." Ben sighs, but then he lifts his gaze back up to you. "You shouldn't call her that." Ben grunts.

"Why not?"

"You keep calling her a man's name and everyone is gonna think she's a boy."

You kick Ben hard in the shin.

"Ow. What the fu-" Ben snaps, eyes blazing.

"Marty, why don’t you pick out a movie you want to watch, anything you want." You smile sweetly at her, ignoring Ben's angry glare.

"Anything I want?" She exclaims, eyes bright.

"Anything you want."

She squeals happily and runs to the couch, disrupting Bean who had been watching with contempt from the cushions that line the back. He didn't like the kids as much as Ben did. Bean leaps off the couch and vanishes down the hallway before Martha can catch him.

"I call her that because she asked me to Ben. Don’t say things like that to a five-year old. In fact don't stuff like that at all. It's 2024 not 1920."

"What does that mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean." You frown at him.

"Fine." Ben huffs and rolls his eyes.

"Why are you still here? I thought that you were going to go on a date or whatever it is you do when you're not being forced to work for Butcher?" You say taking Josh from Ben, who fights you as you rub a wipe against his sticky cheeks.

"I didn't want you to be outnumbered Petals." Ben smirks.

"Uh-huh. Sure. Admit it, you really wanted a friendship bracelet."

Ben leans closer to whisper in your ear. "As soon as she leaves, this is going in the trash."

But for some reason you don’t believe him, but at the same time you didn't care, because you had photo evidence on your phone of Soldier Boy making friendship bracelets.

The opening song of Frozen begins to play from the tv behind you and you smile mischievously at Ben.

Now he's in for it.

"You're gonna wish you left Gramps." You snort.

"What do you mean-" Ben starts to say.

And then Martha begins to sing.

After a stunning and masterful performance of the Frozen movie done by Martha that included singing, dancing, and screaming the dialogue back at the tv, followed by Frozen 2, both Josh and Martha have fallen asleep just as the Aristocats began to play, leaving you and Ben to sit in the blessed silence of your apartment with the movie playing quietly in the background.

You were all sitting on the couch, Josh was sleeping on top of you, his little head buried in your left shoulder, while Martha curled up beside you, covered in one of your crochet blankets. Ben was sitting on the other side of Martha, leaning back and avoiding any contact with her feet that occasionally twitched while she slept, scrolling on his phone.

As much as Ben had hated the performance, you think that he might have actually liked Frozen. He'd noted that Elsa was hot, which Martha didn't quite understand and stated "No silly she's cold."

But then Ben followed up the observation by saying "You know, I knew this supe that looked exactly like her, who did this thing with her tong-" and you'd clamped your hand over his mouth and hissed "the kids are too young for that. Frankly I am too." Ben had only smirked at you and for the first time since you'd seen him do that, you smiled.

You didn't think that Ben had been paying attention, given that he had been scrolling on his phone through the entire movie, but he was. Because when Hans betrayed Anna Ben muttered "what a dick" under his breath.

Butcher had called during Frozen 2 and Ben had taken it in the hallway, filling you in quietly when he got back. Tomorrow Butcher wanted the two of you to infiltrate the party and see if the supe showed up to steal any of the cars.

It sounded like a solid plan, but it also meant that you were going to be on a mission alone with Ben, wearing God knows what. The last time Frenchie had stolen a dress for you wear on a mission, you'd practically had a heart attack when you first put it on and then made Annie go instead. You hoped that this time Frenchie got you something a little more, you. But you doubted it.

Plus the whole idea is to not be you genius.

“You’re really good with them.” Ben murmurs from his seat on the other side of the couch interrupting your chain of thought.

“You sound surprised.” You whisper back gently rubbing Josh's back with your hand. “And here I thought you were going to make a misogynistic comment about me having to be good with kids because I’m a woman.”

“I thought about it.” He shrugs shooting you an easy grin that makes you roll your eyes.

“Wouldn’t have expected anything less Gramps.”

You'd be lying if you said you weren't enjoying Ben try to act normal around the children. You liked watching him be all uncomfortable and awkward, especially because he prided himself on being a "big strong man." It was the same look he got in his eyes whenever Mike's mother cornered him.

“So have you been around kids before?” He asks.

“No. I never had any younger siblings, just my older brother. Were you ever around kids?”

You barely knew anything about Ben or his life before becoming Soldier Boy, just all the propaganda that Vought fabricated about his early life. He had called you guarded but he definitely seemed to keep everything closer to his chest. Sometimes you found yourself wishing that he would tell you more. You wanted to know more about him, but another part of you told you that it was a bad idea. You were getting too close to Ben, developing feelings for him, and you knew that it wouldn’t end well.

“Not people I knew. Vought used to send me on tours around America, talking to assemblies at schools.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Do you-“ Ben pauses considering. “Like kids?”

“I mean I like that I get paid to watch them but-“ You look down at the children quietly sleeping between the two of you. “I like these two. I think it kinda depends on the kid.”

He nods and turns his head back towards the tv. Thomas O'Malley has started his song, sauntering along to the tune.

Is it wrong that I think Ben has Thomas O'Malley vibes? Or Kovu from Lion King 2 vibes?

You thought about texting Annie that exact question, but you didn't want to tell her how you spent your day babysitting with Ben. You knew that it would only bring on another onslaught of photoshopped baby pictures and potential baby names.

“Do you want kids?”

“Huh?” You glance over at Ben who is watching you curiously. He was doing that thing again where he acted completely different than how he acted around the team, had been doing it all day long.

“Um-“ You contemplate. “I’m not sure. I’m kinda young or well in my head I am. I think I’d want to wait a little bit.”

“But you do?” He presses.

Why does he want to know that so badly?

“I kinda see myself as a mom.”

Ben’s eyes are studying you. “I think you’d be a good mom.”

The compliment makes you inhale in surprise. Ben had been acting weird all day long, being nice to Martha, wearing the bracelet she made him, sitting with her to watch a movie and listening to her recount the lore behind it. He was being uncharacteristically patient and kind. For another moment you see the possibility of Ben being more than just an angry, horny, jerk, and you try hard not to give in.

“Do you want kids?” You whisper back.

Ben’s expression darkens and he turns back towards the tv, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t say anything for a good two minutes, the silence awkwardly growing between the two of you. “I did.”

“With Countess right?”

He looks at you surprised.

“Hughie told me.” You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry Ben.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. You’re not the bi-“ He stops and looks down at the kids who are still sleeping silently. “You’re not her, Petals. You don’t have to be.”

“I know that, but still. What she did was shitty.” You whisper the curse word. “You didn’t deserve that. Any of it.”

It was the first time you’d said that to Ben. The first time the two of you would have a conversation about his life before you met him, the life that he seemed to want to forget. You couldn't blame him for that. In fact, the two of you had barely talked before these past few days other than the occasional tease or Ben’s attempt to get you into bed with him. And it was actually kind of nice, learning more about him.

Josh gurgles quietly and you adjust him in your arms, gently rocking him for a moment. Martha stirs but then leans further against your right arm cuddling up against it.

Ben watches you for a minute with the same expression he has when he seems to be unable to understand you and then the mask slips for just a moment, enough for you to see something genuine in his eyes. "Thank you." He murmurs.

"You’re welcome." You reply with a small smile as you turn back to watch the movie, aware of Ben's gaze on you. "Then again I should be thanking you. I couldn't have made it through today without that coffee."

Ben chuckles and leans back against the couch cushions. "You're welcome Petals."

Mr. Wilson's mother in-law shows up to take the kids just as the movie finishes. Ben and you stand there for a moment in the aftermath taking a breath and when you smile at him, Ben actually smiles back.

But before you can ask Ben if he wants to order a pizza or something, he states that he has a date and not to wait up for him as he shrugs into his leather jacket.

And when he goes you try not to notice how quiet the apartment is and how empty it seems without him in it.

A/N: Alright the angst will begin to come NEXT chapter, probably, I promise... I just couldn't get this silly little idea out of my head and I thought why not?

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist or if I missed you on the taglist please let me know :)

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307 @libby99hb

@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

@roger-that-cap @megara0224 @miskwaadesiwag @rainyeggvoidpurse

@soldiergrimes @tiffsbagels @podiumackles

@ifyouwerethemoon @ririshkin @peachhiz @fitxgrld @sukunassfinger

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @ej13928 @deans-spinster-witch @kr804573 @modiddys-blog

@acciosherlockholmes @minas-fantasies @fireskyy

#soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy/ben #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #jensen ackles #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fic

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ambrosialdesire · 2 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.

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