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cobaltperun · 3 days ago

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The Catalyst (2) - Colder

WandaNat x Female Reader

Chapter summary: Even though you worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. for years you’ve never been keen on mind games. Yet it seems like this whole situation is a big mind game.

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Masterlist / First Part

Word Count: 4.4k

-Broken the rules I followed burning for name so hollow-

The tension on the quinjet could be cut with a knife, and it was suffocating. No one was comfortable, not agents assigned to watch Banner, not Banner himself, although you figured he wasn’t tense because of his own issues. Oh, no, while most people were tense because of him, or rather the ‘Other Guy’ he was more uncomfortable by the tension between you and Natasha. You didn’t look in her direction, even if you felt her eyes on you every now and then, that same piercing gaze.

“For what it’s worth I didn’t intend to cause whatever this is,” Banner raised his hands, probably feeling a bit responsible for this.

“You didn’t,” you told him, still slightly reeling from the last conversation with Natasha. Now she had the nerve to talk about ‘what ifs’ to get angry at you for putting yourself in danger. She had no right to do that, to feel that.

You could feel Natasha’s eyes on you once again, and you knew she was biting her tongue, not wanting to talk things out in front of this many people. The initial shock of being in the same place again wore off, but now there was just tension.

“Right,” Bruce didn’t quite buy it. “If you say so, Agent L/N,” you whipped your head toward him with a glare.

“I’m not an agent,” you were done with that, done with Fury, done with Natasha, done with the whole organization and its stupidly long name that just so happened to perfectly fit into an acronym shield.

Bruce’s eyes widened and he nodded, not wanting to escalate things further, but you could see he was starting to piece together a broad picture.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, spent in near deafening silence aside from Natasha informing Hill that you were landing in five minutes. You looked outside the window when helicarrier came into view and old memories came back, all the missions you went on with other agents, the bonds and friendships you made. For the first time since you stepped back onto the quinjet you glanced toward Natasha, and your eyes met immediately and it was as if she was silently welcoming you back, even after everything.

And you despised that it was affecting you. Like the scent of her perfume that reminded you of the feelings you once had, that look, the same one she’d give you when you’d meet up after being sent on different missions, reminded you of the happier times.

“I’m going to find Fury,” you said the moment the quinjet landed, you couldn’t be around her right now. Not when it felt like your heart was going to explode any second now. You marched straight for the bridge, ignoring the agents around you. You weren’t running, but you were clearly in a rush, and barely keeping your emotions in check. All of this was just one huge awful idea. Some knew you, some joined after you left, either way they all seemed to know why you were on the helicarrier. Or perhaps they just had more important issues to deal with at the moment.

You placed your hand on the ID scan. You no longer had your ID on you, not that it mattered, a tiny spark triggered the mechanism, and the doors opened.

“Agent L/N, I see you’re comfortable with your powers now,” Fury’s voice boomed from above you and you looked at him from the doors, standing there, overlooking everything and everyone.

“I’m not your agent,” you finally slowed down your pace, walking up the stairs instead of rushing.

Fury looked at you like you were a petulant child refusing to behave. “Yet you’re here,” he didn’t care what your reasons were, or if you were or weren’t his agent, he was just that desperate.

“And you’re desperate. Losing Clint, losing that cube, relying on a bunch of people that at best have one common goal, sending Natasha to get me,” you walked up to him, looking right into his eye.

He was as firm and unbreakable as ever, believing his cause to be righteous, no matter the cost. Believing that he stood in the shadows of whatever would stand between the threat that was coming and peace on Earth. “I am very desperate agent L/N, desperate enough to put my faith in a handful of people to become a team,” he replied.

You raised an eyebrow as an ironic, sour smile spread across your face. “You had a team. Remember? The X-Men? Before your bosses turned on them,” you took a few steps back and jumped over to the rows of computers. “You couldn’t put your faith in the powers you feared, could you?” you spread your arms, and almost in an instant the heat rose in the room. Your eyes turned bright blue, as bright as your flames. One of the agents fired at you, but a burst of flames engulfed the bullet, melting it before it could reach you.

“Don’t waste bullets, she’s just showing off,” Fury wasn’t nervous, he wasn’t worried, he just observed as flames and lightning danced around you, forming long ribbon-like shapes tied to your wrists.

You breathed out and the flames and lighting vanished, letting your eyes return to normal. “I’m not going to move a finger, I’m not going to fight, I’m not going to save a single agent, I’m not going to interfere no matter what happens, unless civilians are in danger. And I sure as hell am not going to let you depower me again,” those days were behind you, days when you were so worried about your powers that you willingly let S.H.I.E.L.D. depower you just so you didn’t have to worry about hurting someone by accident.

~X~

Natasha led Rogers and Banner to the bridge, comfortable with the busy procedure on the helicarrier. It did little to ease her worries, even with all the technology at their disposal they still haven’t tracked Loki or Clint and she was thrown right back into that mission three years ago. Only this time the full force of S.H.I.E.L.D. was trying to track down Loki and Clint. She looked at Fury as she entered the bridge. She wasn’t stupid or naïve, if this was just about Clint none of this would be happening. One agent, no matter how good or valuable, wasn’t worth all these resources.

And then there you were, leaning against the wall, all the way in the back and not really doing anything. You had no intention of helping until the very last moment, and as much as Natasha wished things were different she understood.

She left you, she chose to complete the mission and you spent almost a month in captivity, waiting for the effects of mutant depowering serum to wear off. She could have gone rogue, but she didn’t. ‘Nat, I need- I’ll bleed out-‘ those were the last words you spoke to her before she ended everything between you with one simple sentence. ‘I don’t have the permission to use it,’ it being the syringe containing the antidote to depowering serum. You didn’t argue after that and a minute later the communication was cut off.

She couldn’t let that happen again. No matter what happened she would get Clint back.

She crouched down next to a computer searching for Clint. With no clue as to where Loki could be there was simply no way to find Clint in time. There was no way to guarantee that Loki would keep Clint alive, or that Clint would remain useful to Loki until they could get to him.

“It’s still not gonna find them in time,” she voiced as much after Coulson explained things to Banner and Rogers. She could see you folding your arms from the corner of her eye, probably thinking about the mission. Bitterly thinking you weren’t worth this three years ago, not to S.H.I.E.L.D. and not to her.

“Agent Romanoff, would you show Doctor Banner to his laboratory, please?” Fury’s order snapped her out of her thoughts and she stood up, hoping to lead Banner to the laboratory and then go and take her frustration out in the gym. As it was she couldn’t do anything to speed up the search, so she might as well distract herself.

~X~

You’ve been gone for three years but it took less than half an hour to get used to the organized chaos in front of you. Hundreds of moving parts, all directed by Fury, moving like one well-oiled machine. It was frightening how quickly you got comfortable right where you were; you almost itched to get to work.

“Y/N, it’s good to see you again,” Coulson approached you with a friendly smile on his face.

“You too, I suppose,” you didn’t mind seeing him, or Maria Hill, and you’d be happy to see Clint again, it was mostly Natasha and Fury that you had issues with. The others followed orders, and they weren’t there to pretty much tell you they didn’t trust you to use your powers even if it meant it would save your life.

Coulson leaned against the wall right next to you and pulled a USB stick out of his pocket. “You might want to take a look at this when you have the time,” he said.

“What is it?” you figured there was no harm in taking a look at it, even if you did take it from one of the best spies in S.H.I.E.L.D.

“The documents related to that mission. Including the aftermath, all the way until after we found you again,” he said and you nearly burnt it to crisp. “Do it for all the years we worked together,” he tried to convince you, but you were very much tempted to chuck it into the ocean. “She hasn’t let anyone call her ‘Nat’ since then, not even Clint. Thought you should know that before you burn that bridge down entirely,” he pulled away from the wall and went over to Steve Rogers.

You glared at the USB stick and shoved it into your pocket. There was nothing there that you cared about, but somehow you couldn’t throw it away, especially when you saw Natasha rushing in again, now dressed in her uniform. Barely a minute later Sitwell got a match on Loki.

You said you wouldn’t move a finger, wouldn’t do anything, and you were about to keep your word. You watched as Steve Rogers got ready to get on the quinjet again, as Natasha led him to it, focused on the mission and determined to find Clint as well. “Damn it,” you cursed and went after them.

“You’re coming as well?” Rogers asked you when you caught up to him and Natasha right as they were getting on board.

“Just in case,” you then figured you haven’t introduced yourself. “I’m Y/N L/N,” you told him and he nodded.

“Steve Rogers,” he said and offered you his hand. You shook it and went to the pilot seat, you lowered your glaive next to the seat while Natasha sat next to you.

There was no need for words, no need to look at each other, you had a job to do, and you’d do it.

Before long you were in Stuttgart and you came just in time to catch Loki making people kneel before him. “Gives the whole god-complex a new meaning, doesn’t it?” you muttered as Rogers jumped down and protected the old man that refused to kneel.

“You can say that again,” Natasha agreed as you flew closer to Loki and she lowered the gun. “Loki, drop the weapon and stand down,” she ordered over the speaker, but Loki merely pointed his spear at the quinjet and fired.

You tilted the quinjet to the side, dodging the blast. You and Natasha watched as Rogers fought with Loki. “I should go down there,” you went to stand up, ready to let someone else fly the quinjet, but Natasha quickly grabbed your forearm.

“Don’t,” she didn’t look you in the eyes, she didn’t say anything else, but her had trembled ever so slightly and that was enough.

Coulson’s comment echoed in your mind and you reluctantly gave up on joining the fight head-on. “Fine,” you said. “Can you take a shot?”

Natasha shook her head. “Guy’s all over the place.”

You were about to reply but then ‘Shoot to Thrill’ by AC/DC began playing through the speakers. “Agent Romanoff, you miss me?” Tony Stark’s voice came through the comms and you glanced at Natasha. It was subtle, but she smiled.

Stark flew in in his armor and blasted Loki back and all you and Natasha could do was watch as Stark landed, pointing a shit-ton of weapons at Loki. “Make a move, Reindeer Games.”

Loki raised his hands as his garb faded away. “That’s it?” you expected more as you began landing the quinjet.

“It’s too easy,” Natasha said and as much as you hated to admit it you agreed with her.

“Something’s wrong. We better keep an eye on him,” you landed the quinjet and Rogers and Stark got on with Loki between them.

“Swap with me,” Natasha tells you and you nod, letting her pilot the quinjet. You grab your glaive and stand on the side, ready just in case Loki tries anything.

Loki was… not quite what you expected. When you read about the Asgardians, the people that were supposed to be the gods of Nordic mythology you kind of expected more. Yet he looked like a regular human, clearly more powerful, but he could easily blend in if he wanted to. There was something in his eyes, in his demeanor, something dangerous, cunning.

“I don’t like it,” Rogers suddenly said, and you noticed he and Stark were also watching Loki.

“What? Rock of Ages giving up so easily?” Stark replied, clearly not bothered by any of this.

“I don’t remember it being that easy. This guy packs a wallop,” Rogers took the whole situation a lot more seriously.

“Didn’t think I’d hear that anytime soon,” you commented, still mostly focused on Loki. You felt a change in the air and went back to Natasha. She glanced back at you as you leaned over her shoulder. “Be careful, there’s a storm suddenly approaching,” you whispered and then realized how close you were. “Sorry,” you pulled away. You intended to keep the information between the two of you. You tucked your hand into your pocket, brushing your fingers across the USB stick. It was tempting you.

“It’s fine,” Natasha reassured you just as lightning flashed in front of the quinjet. “Doesn’t seem like a regular storm,” she noticed and it definitely wasn’t natural.

Something crashed onto the top of the quinjet and you grabbed onto Natasha’s seat to steady yourself. You looked up, feeling immense power clinging to the quinjet. “Thor? Probably?” judging by the power being lightning and the data you got, that was the only option that came to your mind.

Stark opened the back hatch the moment he had his helmet back on and you went to Loki, grabbing onto his shoulder and leaving a trace of your own lightning on the metal shoulder guard.

Just as you did that Thor entered the quinjet and hit Stark with his hammer before Stark could shoot him. Stark landed on Rogers and Thor went right for Loki.

“Not in the mood to talk,” you raised your glaive, clashing it with the hammer, only to immediately feel the force of Thor’s attack. You didn’t even have time to activate your powers, he just swept you aside and took Loki.

“That guy’s a friendly?” Rogers asked as he and Stark got back to their feet.

“Someone needs to teach you what friendly means,” you grumbled

“Doesn’t matter. If he frees Loki, or kills him, the Tesseract’s lost,” Stark approached the ramp, clearly intending to go after Thor and Loki.

“Stark, we need a plan of attack,” Rogers warned him.

“I have a plan. Attack!” and off he went, and by the looks of it Rogers intended to do the same as he went to grab a parachute.

“I’d sit this one out, Cap,” Natasha told him from her seat.

“I don’t see how I can,” Rogers already made up his mind though.

“Quite easy, you just stay here,” you got up and went over to Natasha once again.

“Not an option,” and he just jumped as well, leaving you and Natasha and a handful of agents on the quinjet.

“Well, while the primary colors are hashing things out how about we retrieve Loki?” you asked and let a few sparks circle your hand. “I know exactly where to find him. Okay, I know roughly where to find him,” you said and Natasha nodded, following your directions to where Loki was.

Surprisingly he was just standing there, as if waiting to be picked up once again. And no one was in sight. Not Stark, not Rogers, or Thor. “You’d think he’d try to escape,” you said.

“We need to be careful,” Natasha told you. You couldn’t tell if Loki had any way to destroy the quinjet if she just landed it so there really was only one course of action you could take. One stays on the quinjet, the other faces the god of mischief.

“I’ll bring him back in,” you decided and went outside to meet Loki.

“Ah, the mutant. Firestorm, right?” he knew you, he knew everyone. “You aren’t afraid you’ll be left behind?” he mocked, hitting right where it hurt.

Clearly Clint told him a lot more than you originally thought. “Stopping you is worth the risk,” you didn’t deny it, he was right. You didn’t trust anyone anymore, the only difference was that this time it wouldn’t matter. You could defend yourself.

Thunder blasted from the forest below the cliff you and Loki were standing on. “Already tearing each other apart,” he seemed amused.

“Imagine what they’ll do to you,” you pointed your glaive at him and then at the quinjet. “Let’s go,” keeping Loki on the quinjet with just you and Natasha there wasn’t exactly the smartest move, but you figured a display of power was needed in this situation.

“Of course,” yet he didn’t resist, he didn’t object, he still had that smug look on his face as if this was exactly what he wanted.

~X~

The job was done for now, Loki was locked up, most of the team was here, Fury would do the talking for now. You found an empty room with computers and plugged the USB stick Coulon gave you in and there they were. Files upon files, the details of the mission, everyone involved and the data on them.

You sighed, looking at the words in front of you yet not really focusing on them. It was supposed to be a simple mission, it wasn’t supposed to end with you, impaled and bleeding out. With Natasha leaving and you being captured. You skipped through the mission reports and moved on to another file where you saw Natasha’s activity log. A day after the mission she was hacking into the databases, cameras, clearly looking for something. Unauthorized search after unauthorized search, all in hopes she would be able to track you.

“One day too late, Natasha,” you muttered to yourself. If she was going to disobey orders she should have done so during the mission, not a day later when you were already being held captive and tortured by the Red Room.

You went through more files and eventually stumbled upon a familiar scene. The remnants of the Red Room base you were kept in, or what was left of it after you could finally properly use your powers. The photos were taken shortly after you escaped, the place was still burning. In the end she found you, came to get you, probably. Or maybe it was someone else, there was no way of knowing at this point.

A week later Fury and Coulson tracked you and you threw your badge at their feet. You leaned back against the chair and just stared at the ceiling. It didn’t fix anything, but it did bring you some comfort that she did actually try to look for you.

With a heavy sigh you turned back to the computer and got access to the cameras where Loki was kept. Surprisingly you saw Natasha walking up to the cell.

“Right, of course,” of course Fury would send her. If there was one person who could interrogate Loki, it was Natasha.

“Hm. There’s not many people that can sneak up on me,” despite the current circumstances you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. She was that good. Too good actually.

“But you figured I’d come,” you missed seeing her work. Loki may be wielding magic, but Natasha’s interrogations were magical in their own way,

“After. After whatever tortures Fury can concoct, you would appear as a friend, as a balm. And I would cooperate,” Loki assumed, as if expecting Fury would underestimate him like that.

“I wanna know what you’ve done to Agent Barton,” your eyes widened when you heard Natasha say that and for a moment you weren’t sure if Fury sent her or if she came on her own. You could barely see her face, but from what you could see there was that sense of desperation, hidden deep behind the mask she put on.

“I’d say I’ve expanded his mind,” Loki taunted, provoked her.

Natasha tilted her head to the side and then began approaching him. “And once you’ve won. Once you’re king of the mountain,” she crossed her arms and stood right in front of him. “What happens to his mind?”

“Is this love, Agent Romanoff? Got over Agent L/N that quickly?” Loki kept hitting right where it hurt and you clenched your fist. Clint clearly still had those ideas in his head, and here was the enemy, taunting Natasha with that.

“Love is for children. I owe him a debt,” Natasha ignored the second question, but you saw it. The way she squeezed her arm just a bit harder gave her away.

“Tell me,” Loki invited her to keep talking as he stepped away from the glass.

Natasha paused, opened her mouth once, then closed it. And then she also took a few steps back. “Before I worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. I uh, well, I made a name for myself,” she sat down on a chair near the railing while Loki also sat down. “I have a very specific skill set. I didn’t care who I used it for, or on. I got on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s radar in a bad way. Agent Barton was sent to kill me, he made a different call,” she explained her story, the basics of it. Judging by everything Loki already knew he was probably familiar with this as well.

“And what will you do if I vow to spare him?” he tested the waters, trusted that he was in control, that he was the one manipulating her. As if she didn’t catch on that he already knew everything she revealed.

“Not let you out,” Natasha shut that idea down immediately.

“Ah, no. But I like this. Your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man?” and there was nothing fake about it. She really wanted to get Clint back, and she was willing to do almost anything to accomplish that. A bitter thought that you weren’t worth that crossed your mind once again but you pushed it to the back of your mind.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, indifferent to who ruled the world. “Regimes fall everyday. I tend not to weep over that, I’m Russian, or I was.”

“And what are you now?” Loki asked.

“It’s really not that complicated,” she stood up again and closed the distance between her and Loki. “I got red in my ledger. I’d like to wipe it out.”

“Can you? Can you wipe out that much red? Drakov’s daughter?” your eyes widened as you realized just how much Clint told him. “Sao Paulo? The hospital fire? Barton told me everything,” he approached the glass once more, sneering at Natasha as she tried to keep her composure. There was no way that wasn’t affecting her.

“Stop,” you stood up, gripping the table so hard it was starting to crack.

Yet Loki didn’t stop. “Your ledger is dripping, it’s gushing red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? This is the basest sentimentality. This is a child, a prayer. Pathetic,” with every word his voice grew harsher, angrier, aiming to hurt her in any way he could. “You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors. But they are a part of you, and they will never go away.”

You tried to turn the program off, but it wouldn’t close. “Fury,” you couldn’t keep watching, but he clearly wanted you to see it.

You watched as Loki slammed his fist against the glass and Natasha flinched, jumped back, more startled than you’ve ever seen her. And you pushed away from the table and went to open the doors only to find it was sealed shut.

“I won’t touch Barton! Not until I make him kill you. Slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear,” you were stuck there, listening to Loki, imagining Natasha’s face. There was no way this wasn’t getting to her.

“And then he’ll wake just long enough to see his good work and when he screams, I’ll split his skull! This is my bargain, you mewling quim!” blue flames burst around you threatening to burn the whole room down and lightning crackled, but you still heard Natasha sobbing.

“You’re a monster!” she sobbed, and you cried out, charging a ball of lightning to send right at the computer.

“Oh, no. You brought the monster,” Loki taunted, and just as you were about to make the computer explode Natasha spoke up.

“So, Banner? That’s your play,” she sounded completely calm, but you knew her, there was a turmoil inside of her. And Loki would pay for it.

You blew up the computer anyway, just to release a bit of that frustration. It didn’t help. Nothing would help until Loki was beaten and made to pay for what he just did.

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ceturyboytoy · 1 day ago

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Special Delivery

Alex (Stardew Valley) x ftm!reader

Synopsis: Alex makes a request. you fill it, then he fills you :3

Warnings: Smut, male and female terms for genitals, cheating??, pre-op reader (on T), Alex is DUMB, coming out

When you saw the request posted on the bulletin board you couldn’t help the smirk growing on your face seeing Alex’s name printed in his jagged handwriting. He wanted a copper bar, which should be easy enough. Spending most days in the mines these days has afforded you a wealth of ores and coal. Downing your second cup of coffee, you rush to your farm’s furnace.

Standing in front of the burning flames you cant help but imagine the cocky young jock and whatever cute thing he’s gonna say. When you gave him a dirty egg last week he clapped your back and said “Thanks a bunch, bud!” and you could have melted into the ground.

And three months ago Alex was teaching you to throw the gridball on the beach. You chucked it over and over only to realize you’re terrible. Which Alex let you know in the most charming way before sliding in behind you and positioning your arms with his. Goosebumps formed all over you as his larger hands gripped yours.

“No wonder, bud. your little hands can barely hold on.” Alex chuckled, his breath hot on your neck. It’s not fair. He’s with Hailey. Right? This is just bro stuff. Isn’t it? Because being called ‘bud’ has never felt so homoerotic.

Being honest with yourself, you don’t know if he even likes men that way or if he’s just a very flirty guy. You immediately pegged him as straight when you first moved to Pelican Town, but now you’re not so sure. You started to notice his eyes lingering on you whenever you walk away, the deep blush on his face when you bring him his favorite dinner.

You catch yourself smiling when the copper bar drops out. Shaking your head clear you pack the shiny block into your pack and turn tail to George and Evelyn’s house.

#######

Checking your watch, it’s almost noon when you make it back to town and enter Alex’s grandparents house. It’s strangely empty when you walk further into the house and make your way to the younger man’s room. Your heart was pounding as you pushed the door open but the sight within the room made it stop completely.

It’s not like you’ve never seen Alex shirtless before, the guy spends half his time half-naked on the beach. And Alex has always done his workouts alone in private, you’ve seen him leaving the bath house sweaty and red-faced before. Apparently he also likes to pump weights in his bedroom.

His glorious 6’4” frame was straining against the heavy weights, but he didn’t slow. His brown eyes glanced in your direction and you swear he sped up. “Ugh.. hey, bud mhh… what’s up?”

You had to swallow the lump that formed in your throat watching the glistening sweat glide down his round tanned pecs, and his tight abdomen dusted with hair, and his thick thighs that are barely concealed by his gridball shorts. You swallow again and clear your throat.

“I uh-“ you fumble to reach into your pack and produce the requested item. The boy smiles and loudly drops the weights down, shaking the house.

“Hey, great! You saw my post, that was quick.” Alex, instead of taking the bar, reaches for a towel lying on the chair and slowly wipes away the perspiration on his skin. “ugh… fuck.”

You want to slap yourself for staring like a creep but how could you not? When there’s a damn stacked smokehouse half naked and rubbing himself right before your eyes.

You smile and scuff your boot on the floor, still awkwardly holding the copper bar. it’s cool in your hands, and feels nice to hold when the rest of your body is burning up.

After soaking up the last of the sweat and further forgoing a shirt, Alex finally moves towards you and takes the bar from your hands. He winks at you with that damn smirk. “Thanks, bud.”

“No problem.” It’s hard to think let alone speak after that display. You almost want to bail, just take your payment and run back to the farm. Take refuge in the company of your livestock and forget about the cute small-town athlete and his rippling muscles. But that wink pulled at you like a fishing lure, and you wanted to bite.

“I like to rub it on my muscles after a workout.” He explains as he brings the copper to his abs, gliding the lustrous metal slowly up and down. You had no idea where he got this idea, or how it works, but you weren’t going to complain. This town is strange; the folks ask for random items all the time. For all you know this could be more forest magic shit, so you don’t comment. “You ever try it?”

You shake your head, chuckling.

“No? You should. Don’t think I can’t see those muscles under there. must be working hard, huh?” Alex is working his bicep now, and definitely flexing to make sure his veins pop. “Oh where are my manners? Grandma would kill me, let me get your payment.”

“Where are they by the way?” You ask just to fill the silence.

“Pierre’s. They’ll probably be gone all day.” He turns back to you and drops the gold into your hand, which you quickly place in your wallet. “You could stay… if you wanted. Ya’know like if you’re not busy.”

“Im not,” you rush out embarrassingly fast, getting a laugh out of the man.

“Good. Because uhm…” He moves closer to you and grips the strap of your pack, sliding it off your shoulder and on to the floor. You felt his grip on your waist, the other hand going to the side of your neck. “I think you deserve a little extra payment.”

Then Alex is kissing you, and everything about it is hot. You feel his skin, his hands, his breath warming you up from the inside. The hand on your neck is gentle but it pulls you in deeper, and it makes you whimper into his mouth. Only a little. You’d never admit it. Then Alex hums, deepening the kiss. His tongue swiping your lips, gently coaxing them open to let him explore.

Immense relief washes over you as you make out with the athlete. Everything you thought, every suspicion was being confirmed as you suck on Alex’s tongue, standing on your toes just to reach. This boy wanted you, no denying it anymore. No more pretending those heated looks and lingering touches aren’t what they were. He’s here, kissing you in his bedroom.

“Fuck,” Alex pants when he pulls off of your lips. His face lights up with a smile which spreads to yours, and cupping your cheeks he pulls you in for another, shorter, kiss. “I’ve wanted to do that for months. You’re so fuckin’ hot, bud.”

“Me too,” you sigh and allow yourself to touch Alex’s body, running your fingers over his taught chest and firm sides. He’s perfect: no blemishes or scars, not even tan lines. It’s intimidating when you think about your farmers tan and scrapes from battling in the mines. That and the other difference between the two of you. “Alex… uhm.”

You and Alex haven’t had a conversation yet about you being trans, nor have you told anyone in Pelican Town. Besides Harvey, but of course he can’t tell anyone. The thing is, as nice as this town is you just don’t see how it’s anyone’s business who you were born as. Also, it’s kinda nice just being known as the ‘farmer guy’ to everyone, and not that trans city boy.

However, seeing as you might be taking your clothes off soon, you think it’s finally time to break the news to the young man. “Well I just wanted to let you know that I’m trans. A- uh a trans man.”

All you get is a blank stare in return, and you think maybe you hallucinated what you just said. “Uhh.”

No, you definitely just came out, but Alex looks like you just asked him to solve long division. “Alex, do you know what that means?”

The smooth sexy persona was faltering as you watch the cogs in his brain work overtime to answer you. You try not to laugh as you realize that Alex has no idea what you’re saying to him. To his credit he doesn’t try to make something up or lie, he just shakes his head. And that clueless expression makes you want to kiss him again, the idiot.

“Well, I was born a… girl,” you swallow around your words, still getting that sick feeling while having to explain yourself to the big dope. What if he doesn’t like you anymore? Or tells everyone in this small town? Then they’ll know you’re trans and gay, and even though you’re an adult and this isn’t high school, the thought terrified you. “a-and I have transitioned to a man, I guess. So, like, the stuff that girls have… is what I have…”

“Oh. Okay.” Alex looked like he was taking his time considering what you told him, nodding slowly and thoughtfully. This whole time you’re still entangled in each other’s arms, you shiver as you feel his thumb rubbing on your waist. “That’s… okay. So, no dick, right?”

That gets a laugh out of you, and you shake your head ‘no’ as you run your hands up and down his sides. Your nerves are still flaring despite the tepid response. It’s not everyday you’re explaining transgenderism to the hottest guy in town right after he makes out with you. “Is that alright?”

It sounds like a stupid question as soon as it comes out but there it is, you were asking Alex if he was okay with you being trans. You wanted to slap yourself, you wanted to bail again. But before you could say anything else Alex said, “why wouldn’t it be?”

“Oh-“ then Alex is pushing you till your back hits the gridball wallpaper. He takes your stubbled chin back in his hand and reconnects your lips, and this time he’s frantic. Sloppily opening up your mouth, letting him in once again to taste your cute little whimpers. He’s pinned you to the wall, making you feel him everywhere. Alex’s strong hands and arms are holding you in place while he devours your lips, and you can feel his sturdy thighs slotting between yours. Even through your clothes you can feel the heat coming off his body, which is still mostly exposed. You’re fully clothed but feel more naked than ever, it’s like Alex is mentally undressing you, making you show your most inner self with every sigh and moan he draws from you.

“I love that you’re such a little guy, I could eat you whole.” Alex’s lips move down to your neck, licking and sucking at you like a hungry dog. You didn’t even care that he was sucking deep purple hickies into your neck like some lovesick teenager. You honestly liked his randy and brash behavior, it’s exciting to feel this wanted, this desired. If the townsfolk looked at you funny for having these big neck bruises so be it.

You feel your stomach drop as Alex suddenly hooks his arms under your thighs and lifts you up, letting you wrap your legs around his waist. With your hold secure, Alex slides his hands down to your ass and squeezes. The move draws heat to your core. You can’t help but rotate your hips into the shirtless man’s abdomen. You could already feel yourself getting wet from the animalistic treatment.

“Like that? Feel nice, bud?” Alex moves you down to rub himself into your heated crotch. You feel his growing hard on through the shorts, and praise to Yoba, he is huge. It’s thick and pulsing and only four thin layers away from your dripping boycunt. You nod, needing to feel more of his hard heat. “Fucking hell, need to feel you.”

And suddenly you’re being tossed on Alex’s queen bed, the breath knocked out of your lungs. you don’t waste any time in shedding your clothes along side Alex; albeit he only had a pair of shorts and underwear on, so Alex helped you take off your button down and underwear. and, boy, when you laid eyes on the young man’s manhood you don’t even feel shame when you let your legs fall open. It stands at attention, like it’s waiting for you to work it. you swallow involuntarily, a little worried about whether it will fit inside you.

“What d’you think, bud? big enough?” Alex chuckles as he grabs himself, slowly jerking his dick off. The sight of you is obviously affecting him, his large brown eyes are roaming your whole naked body from your head down to your dripping boycunt. You don’t answer directly, just take his hard heat in your hands and start jerking hard. You want him to leak and tremble for you. Then Alex is letting out these deep rumbling moans, letting his hips swing gently into your calloused hands. “Oh, fuck. I need you, bud. Need that boy pussy now. Right fuckin’ now”

You’re surprised but not thrown off by the demanding words, in fact it’s just more of that cocky charm that’s been turning you on for months. You’ve wanted his fat cock inside you for longer than you would admit, and from how desperate the boy is to fuck you, he’s probably wanted it longer.

So you just nod frantically and let your body be maneuvered by Alex’s strong arms until you’re face down and ass up getting railed so hard you see stars. Your pretty face buried in the young man’s sheets as he works your soft wet boycunt so good you cum untouched. This brash brunet does not let up on his thrusts even when your legs are trembling and soaked in your own slick. It’s humiliating: you’re reduced down to a shaking whimpering little bitch boy when Alex is tunneling you out with his dick.

It’s sweaty and raw, and there’s lots of intimate eye contact. Even when you’re coming down from another orgasm, Alex just grinds his still hard cock deep in your guts till tears spring up in your eyes. “Thaaats right, you’re mine. My fuckin’ boy, my fuckin pussy.” At some point you’re flipped over and getting pounded just as hard from the front, and oh yes you can watch as the golden tanned god goes weak for your hot slippery grip. He’s working your pussy like he loves you, hard as fuck inside you and leaking so much precum it’s dripping out of your hole. His hair is spiky with sweat, you can feel it dripping but you don’t give a fuck.

“Ohh babe, fuck, ‘m gonna cum. Gonna cum in this. Fucking. Boypussy.” Alex accentuated each word with a hard shaking thrust, his dick surely leaving bruises inside you. Again, you couldn’t care less. You were happy to be a good play thing, even if that’s all this is.

“Shiiiit this tight little pussy. Mmmh. So good, baby. So fucking good.” You watch Alex’s face crumble, the pleasure of cumming in a hot little hole overwhelming him. Rough hands grip your hips hard, still gyrating both your hips into each other, making an icky wet sound that made you blush. And as you’re filled up with his warm thick cum, you whine so pathetically. Your thighs are slick on the inside and bruised on the outside, clear and unmistakable evidence that what just happened wasn’t a hallucination.

When Alex pulls out he scoops up your limp twitching form in his strong arms, dragging his lips up your neck and cheek. Warmth and satisfaction washed over you, feeling that painful pull in your heart for the man who’s holding you close, the man who’s cum is still leaking out of your aching hole.

“Knew you’d be amazing, farmer dude. I needed that, thank you.” His words are soft and warm against your neck. You respond by grabbing his hand and gently kissing it, as if saying ‘ditto.’

#ftm reader #sub male reader #ftm sub #ftm nsft #bottom male reader #trans male reader #male reader #ftm smut #stardew valley smut #alex stardew valley #alex stardew valley x reader #gay #listen i love stardew valley #alex is my DADDY

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hoiststowline · 2 days ago

Text

_hound x reader

an uncharacteristic restlessness finds him somewhere between the seven and ten minute mark, gnawing away at his typically well-kept patience rather quickly. the subconscious acknowledgment of his unease has his wheels rolling forward then jerking in place, stopping short as if he didn’t quite realize his anxious actions at first.

eventually, a light kicks on, to which a reply to one of his many calls filters through. immediately, Hound answers, feeling a twinge of guilt upon hearing your sluggish tone, words slightly warbled with exhaustion.

“Is everything alright?” you mumble, sitting up straight away. the duvet pools around your waist, fingers pushing sleep-tousled hair away from your face upon registering the caller.

all at once, Hound gives pause. for someone who was rehearsing the plentiful of sentences to say to you, nothing comes to fruition upon your voice. suddenly, nothing was so important as to disrupt your much needed rest, and his rash selfishness sucker-punched him in the gut.

receiving no response, you press a little harder, unrestrained concern lacing your now second inquiry. “Hound?”

still, he hesitates to speak, briefly wondering why he hasn’t just ended the call already. this was a ridiculous idea, even still the cognizance doesn’t allow him to move, frozen in place.

abruptly, your blinds move, and on the other end of the line, he can hear your soft gasp.

the next two minutes occur in a blur, somehow faster than the past ten minutes. somewhere amongst the chaos, you’ve ended the call and have opened the garage, lights flickering on as you stand on the concrete floor in your socks.

you’ve seen him in all his undignified and sorry state, something he can’t reverse even though he wishes for nothing but that presently.

“You’re hurt!” you had exclaimed, stepping to the side to allow him entry. when he reluctantly does so, your fingers tap the button so the garage door closes over behind him, leaving you both in full privacy.

Hound still hasn’t gathered the courage to say anything, largely due to an unexpected shyness that consumes him. he wasn’t so confident anymore as to why he was here. what he should have done was find Ratchet or Hoist, someone who could have repaired such an obvious wound by now. yet, for some unknown reason, he’d shown up here without a second thought. not quite looking for you to patch him up, but more for your company, he supposes.

he jolts when your fingers gently coast across his plating, rounding to his front to assess the damage. worry furls around your expression at the mangle of cables and singed metal, surely an inelegant sight. it wasn’t the nastiest injury he’s ever gotten, but it wasn’t something your eyes should never have to witness, especially when this was all his fault.

“S’fine.” he finally sputters, stumbling over his words. “‘M sorry, ah don’t even know why ‘m here.”

“It’s not fine.” you press, dropping down to your knees to better assess the damage. “It looks like it really hurts.”

it doesn’t cause him pain, not much by this point in time. it had initially, but it was mostly superficial, his systems alerting him that he should get it fixed soon, but it didn’t call for immediate remedy. the null urgency has left him wandering around town, driving in circles until he ultimately arrived here, giving into temptation by ringing your phone twice.

Hound is very accustomed to your company, and perhaps he latently arrived here for a multitude of reasons he’s unable to recall in such a vulnerable state. he would never seek you out at this hour to remedy his physical and emotional ailments, let alone ever ask such a high favor from you. his processor turns to a garbled hitch of nonsense around you, wanting so badly to be in your presence but uncertain how to ask for it without appearing overbearing.

“Nah, ‘m all good. It doesn’t.” Hound insists, rolling backward away from you until his back bumper taps the metal door.

you appear confused, still sitting on the ground with your hands outstretched, before they unceremoniously drop into your lap. everything in your posture silently screams that you only wish to help, and suddenly Hound is hit in the face with how bad of an idea this has all become.

“Okay.” you never wanted to dictate the situation or pry, even if it was blatantly obvious he wasn’t offering the whole truth, you let him retreat until he’s backed up the furthest he can go, unable to escape.

there’s an awkward silence that arrives, something that only adds to the already unsteady flame that is Hound’s emotions. he doesn’t know what to do, he has no reason for showing up here other than for your assistance, and to that saving grace, he’d just turned you down on the offer.

“Is everything alright?” you extend, though quick to add with a gentle nod towards his bumper: “Aside from the obvious, I mean.”

“I feel a ‘lil stupid for showin’ up here. Actually, a lotta stupid.” Hound rumbles, finding that honesty was probably the best route to adhere to. “Ah don’t know why I even did it. Can’t even remember the ride over, s’like I was on autopilot.”

at his admittance, he observes your brow furrow somewhat, a deeper frown overtaking your beautiful features. internally, he swears, a beg on his lips for you to knock that off, but you beat him to the plea with a benign reply.

“You don’t need to feel that way. You know you can always come here.” you press, fingers finding the chilly concrete to haul yourself to your feet, but remain the same distance away. which wasn’t that much in a one car garage, but you didn’t want Hound to think you were ignoring his request for space. “I don’t mind, not at all.”

Hound seldom speaks a lie, so the truth practically pours from him in one sweep. “Ya should.”

“Why is that?” a whisper, but it feels loud in the small room.

it’s quite obvious he’s really upset you now, the way your lips purse and posture dips in disappointment.

Hound is unfamiliar with nice sentiments and gestures, even more so ones where you expect nothing in return and mean it. he has good friends that look out for him, and he would do the same for them in return with zero delay. openly, he would admit he has immense love for them, but the love he has for you is different. it’s not an emotional state he can describe with words, it’s a formidable hysteria that is insatiable. Hound had uncovered a fondness but a protectiveness over you, unversed in but enamored with your compassionate actions and sympathetic nature.

such affection had gradually crept up on him. he’d all but adored you since you entered the picture, though the romantic traction would not be so instantaneous. you were good friends, still are, and there's that persistent doubt that nags him until he's withdrawn from the idea once more. Hound longs for moments alone with you, but it's not as frequent of an occurrence as he'd like.

so an occurrence such as this one, a consequence that could have waited until morning when he was better rested and healed, ruined his perception. he no longer felt that he deserved this warmth from you, as he’s already troubled you long enough.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

Hound is hyper aware that you’ve now closed the persisting distance, footfalls inaudible without shoes. unable to pull back any further, he relents, mumbling an apology.

“I wasn’t looking for one of those.” you placidly laugh, crouching once more at his front. “How about you stay here, and I’ll-”

abruptly, Hound recoils. “N-no!”

to which you peek over his hood, tilting your head to the side to address his windshield. “No?”

“I don’t want ya to go.” no longer handcuffed by his remorse, he’d finally asked what he truly wanted.

“But shouldn’t someone look at this?” you’re worried by his behavior, fingers ghosting over the warped metal once more.

“Tomorrow.” Hound was unafraid to beg, especially for something he wanted so desperately. “Please? Ah’ll be quiet, can I…?”

can he please stay?

he can see the gears turning in your mind, uncertain of what was best but wanting to choose the right thing, at least for tonight. “Promise it doesn’t hurt?”

“Ah promise.” his sentence comes across as sincere as he always is, kind but unyielding.

“Very well.”

Hound watches as you move back across the garage to the light switch, successfully ceasing the overhead light. the room is moderately bathed in the moonlight by three small windows on the exterior door, and he thinks that he finally can properly collect himself to talk to you in the morning.

instead, your presence lingers in his proximity sensors, his side-view mirror tilts until you’re in the center of the frame.

“I’m worried about you.” you’re cold, hands tucked under your arms as they cross your chest. “I’d like to stay, if that’s okay with you.”

he knows better. knows that you get better sleep in your bed, and that he’s already disrupted your much needed rest for an imprudent amount of time. yet, if there’s one thing he’s been teased for since meeting you, is that he can’t deny you anything, even more so when you shoot him that look of heavy disquiet.

still, even knowing better, his driver door swings open unprompted, with no hesitation. everything in him screams at how bad of an idea this is, but if he can indulge himself just this once, he’d be satisfied for a long while afterward.

so he claims right now, intoxicated by the way you slide into the driver's seat, fingers patting his dash delicately in greeting.

#sul tf writes #transformers #maccadam #transformers idw #mtmte #transformers x reader #transformers x human #transformers hound #hound headcanons #tf hound #hound #hound x reader #hound imagine #transformers headcanons

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bizzylosingcats · 2 days ago

Text

(Part 1)

As Damian got older, he grew to resemble his mother more than anyone had expected. By the time Damian was 15 he looked as if he was just a male version of her. His jet black hair, his golden brown skin, his face and beauty, his Lazarus green eyes. It was all a copy of Talia, and it was eating Bruce alive.

Jason was the first to notice the difference in Bruce. The suddenly distant stares and lower voice. Jason wanted to find the cause in the sudden changes in the bats behavior, and then he found it. What scared him the most was that the trigger of these changes in behavior was Damian, Bruce’s youngest. Jason saw the minuscule changes that only someone who was trained and was looking for it could see. Bruce would stare at Damian from across rooms, his jaw would clench, he’d ball up his hands, and if he wasn’t in the cowle Jason could see his brow twitch. And this terrified Jason because he recognized these things as Bruce’s aggravated ticks, things he would do when something was bothering him deeply, things that made him mad.

And it was directed at Damian, who, from what Jason could see, had nothing wrong. Was Bruce upset at something Damian had done and not told anyone? Was it really directed at Damian? No. Bruce wouldn’t hurt Damian without reason. Jason was sure of that. Was he?

Jason tried his best to keep an eye on Bruce when they were with Damian, not that he actually believed Bruce would hurt Damian. Never. Bruce had been a good Dad to Damian, he couldn’t say that for all of them, but to Damian Bruce was good. He thinks…

The family has a sparring day, which Dick had organized. And when Damian challenged Bruce to spar, Jason was immediately on alert. Just in case. But things went perfectly normal in the first half, until Bruce had Damian trapped in a headlock and Damian pulled a fast move that Jason hadn’t seen before. Damian got out of Bruce’s hold and Jason got an unnerved feeling by the expression on Bruce’s face, he seemed shocked. Damian didn’t seem to notice and smirks before landing a blow straight to Bruce’s cheek. Bruce didn’t even flinch.

Damian seemed to notice the shift in the mood then and let down his defensive stance in confusion. “Father? You’re supposed to defend yourself.” Damian said with a huff. Bruce raised his hand slowly. Jason sprinted towards the mat. Determined to get in between Bruce and Damian. The kid didn’t do anything wrong. The rest of the family looked on in shock and confusion, why had Bruce stopped the playful sparring? Why was Jason trying to get involved? What’s happening?

Before Jason could get to them, Bruce had already laid his hand on Damian. It gently cradled the side of Damian’s face, much to Damian’s confusion. Bruce’s expression almost soft but still unreadable, as none of the bats had ever seen it before. Bruce speaks, but he doesn’t seem to realize he said it. “You look just like your mother.” Bruce says, quietly enough that no one but Damian could hear. Damian’s eyes widen as he steps back in shock, ripping away from his father’s gentle hold.

Damian knew his father had been more distant recently. He thought he had done something wrong, he thought he was letting his father down. But this was the reason. And Damian was filled with anger by it. Damian left the sparring room, angrily stomping away, clenching his teeth with his fist balled up.

Jason finally made his way up to Bruce. “What the fuck’s been going on?! What did you say to him?!” Jason yelled, and Bruce just froze up again, before dropping his arm from where it was in the air. Bruce snapped out of his trance and looked back at Jason, Bruce didn’t respond. Bruce was thinking to himself. That move Damian did was the same one Talia had pulled on him many years ago, when he first fell in love with her. Every time Damian did something like that an image of her flashed in his mind and Bruce didn’t know what to tell Jason that.

(T.B.C)

#damian wayne #bruce wayne #jason todd #batfamily #Batfam #AU #NOT CANON #talia al ghul #brutalia

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sturniololuvz · 1 day ago

Note

can you make a fic where it’s sturniolo sister reader x nate and she is on her period and nate is taking care of her and the triplets just kind of admire how he can be so thoughtful to her?

“Soft Hands, Loud Love”

Y/N was curled up in a ball on the living room couch, hoodie pulled over her knees and a heating pad tucked beneath her stomach. She hadn’t moved much all day—aside from shuffling to the kitchen for a glass of water and immediately regretting it halfway through a cramp.

Matt had offered her a blanket earlier, which she appreciated. Chris gave her a fist bump like she’d just finished running a marathon. Nick tried to make her laugh, but even he could tell she didn’t have the energy to respond with more than a weak smile.

Enter Nate.

He walked in the front door with two CVS bags in one hand and a small iced drink carrier in the other.

“Your knight in sweatpants has arrived,” he said dramatically.

Y/N lifted her head just enough to see him. “I love you.”

“I know,” Nate smirked, walking straight to her and setting the bags down. “I got your favorite drink, those sour watermelon gummies you like when you’re feeling like crap, pads, Midol, and the heating pad that wraps around you this time. And don’t even think about getting up, I’m making you pasta.”

“Okay but are you trying to marry me right now?” she whispered, genuinely moved.

“Maybe,” he said, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

The triplets watched the whole thing from the kitchen.

Matt leaned on the counter. “Bro… he’s unreal.”

Nick nodded slowly. “She didn’t even have to text him. He just knew.”

Chris sipped his drink, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “I thought the heating pad was ours,” he muttered.

“You don’t even get cramps,” Matt said, elbowing him.

“I get emotional cramps.”

Meanwhile, Nate was in the kitchen now, boiling water and organizing the medicine and snacks like a pro. Every so often, he’d glance over to check on Y/N, and she’d give him the softest look the boys had ever seen on their sister.

Nick finally said it out loud: “He really gets her.”

Chris nodded slowly. “Yeah… It’s gross, but it’s also kinda sick.”

When the pasta was done, Nate brought her a bowl, tucked her hair behind her ear, and sat with her while she ate—even massaging her calves with the heating pad wrapped around her midsection.

The triplets didn’t interrupt, didn’t tease. For once, they were just… quiet. Watching their little sister be loved out loud by someone who never made her feel like she was too much, even when her cramps had her crying over TikToks an hour ago.

Matt whispered, “I hope if I ever date someone’s sister, I treat her like that.”

Chris glanced at him. “You’d have to get a girl first.”

But even he smiled a little. Because yeah—Nate might be annoying, but when it came to their sister?

He was exactly who they’d want her to have.

⸻

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt stuniolo fanfic

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zrvllya · 1 day ago

Text

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

────────────

sparks, coldplay

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remus lupin x reader ! one shot ⏾

did i drive you away?

ᵎ!ᵎ blood mention, poisoning, self-destructive behavior, near death experience, illness, medical content, lycantrophy, codependency

word count [ 4,400 ]

────────────

the shack groans under the weight of morning. not the cheerful kind of morning—the gray, reluctant kind that spills through splintered boards like watered-down milk. it smells of copper and sweat and something animal that never quite leaves these walls.

you've been awake for hours. your knees protest against the rough wooden floor, but you don't move. not while he's like this.

remus lies curled on his side, all angles and exposed ribs beneath a blanket too thin to offer real comfort. his breathing has finally steadied, no longer the ragged gasping of transformation but the heavy rhythm of exhaustion. dried blood crusts at the corner of his mouth. you resist the urge to wipe it away—he hates being touched immediately after.

instead, you wait. your fingertips trace patterns on the floorboards, ghosting over splinters and old stains. your heart beats sluggishly in your chest, a clock winding down.

"how long have you been there?" his voice cracks, desert-dry.

"since before dawn," you answer, and the truth feels inadequate. you've been here for years, really. in this same position, watching him emerge from the wolf like someone crawling from wreckage.

remus shifts, winces. his eyes remain closed. "you shouldn't."

"we've had this conversation."

"and we'll have it again," he murmurs. "until you listen."

you smile despite everything. "then we'll be having it forever."

he opens his eyes at that. amber in this light—more human than wolf but carrying echoes of both. they fix on your face with the intensity that always makes you feel translucent, like he can see straight through to the lies you've been telling.

"your hands," he says.

you tuck them under your thighs. "just cold."

"it's may."

"poor circulation."

he struggles to sit up, and you don't offer help because you know he'll refuse it. the blanket slides from his shoulders, revealing fresh scratches across his collarbone. not as bad as they used to be. not as bad as they should be.

"give me your hand," he says, and it's not a request.

you hesitate, then extend your right hand. his fingers wrap around your wrist, pressing against your pulse point. his thumb strokes once across your palm, and the touch sends electricity up your arm.

"your heart," he says, "is beating too slowly."

"must be all the running i do," you attempt a joke, but it falls flat between you.

remus says nothing, but his grip tightens. those eyes—professor eyes, you used to tease—cataloging, analyzing. you see the moment understanding breaks across his face like a fever.

"you've been taking it." not a question. horror coats each word. "the wolfsbane."

you don't deny it. can't, really, not with the evidence written in your slowing pulse and the constant chill in your fingers. three years of goodnight kisses after he's taken his potion. three years of letting the poison build in your system, molecule by molecule.

"just traces," you say, as if that makes it better. "just enough to—"

"to what? kill yourself slowly?" his voice rises, then breaks. "merlin's fucking beard, what were you thinking?"

"that i could help." the words sound small in the vastness of what you've done. "that i could share it. ease it."

"by poisoning yourself?" he releases your hand like it burns him. "this isn't—you can't just—"

"it works," you interrupt. "you've been having better transformations. less pain. the wolf is calmer."

"at what cost?" remus pushes himself further away, back hitting the wall. the distance between you feels oceanic. "do you have any idea what you've done? wolfsbane is toxic. even in small doses, over time—"

"i know what it does."

"and you did it anyway." disbelief colors his words. "why would you—how could you—"

"because i love you," you say simply. "and i was tired of watching you suffer alone."

he flinches like you've struck him. "that's not love. that's self-destruction."

"they look the same."

silence stretches between you, taut as a bowstring. outside, birds have begun their morning songs, oblivious to the storm brewing within these walls. remus runs trembling fingers through his hair—more gray than brown now, though he's still young by wizarding standards.

"how long?" he finally asks.

"since that night at the potter‘s house. when you collapsed even days later."

he remembers. you see it in the way his eyes darken. "three years."

you nod.

"three years of—" he can't finish the thought. "and what happens when it builds to toxic levels? when your heart stops? when your nervous system fails? did you think about that?"

"of course i did."

"and?"

you look down at your pale hands. "i decided you were worth it."

"don't you dare," he whispers, voice dangerous and low. "don't you dare make me the reason for your death."

"it's my choice, remus."

"it's not a choice i will allow!" he shouts, then immediately crumples, energy spent. "i already have enough blood on my hands. i won't add yours."

you crawl toward him, ignoring his attempt to retreat further into the wall. "you think i haven't considered everything? that i jumped into this without research? i've been working with an apothecary in knockturn alley. there's a cleansing potion—"

"an illegal potion, i assume."

"yes," you admit. "but it works. i take it every full moon after... after i've helped you."

he stares at you, incredulous. "so your solution to poisoning yourself is to use more illegal potions? brilliant. truly brilliant."

"it's kept me alive so far."

"and what about next month? or the month after? how long until your body builds resistance to the cleansing potion? did your knockturn alley friend mention that part?"

you hadn't considered that. the silence answers for you.

remus closes his eyes, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. "you need to stop this. now. before it causes permanent damage."

"i can't."

"you must."

"would you?" you challenge. "if our positions were reversed, would you stop?"

a memory flashes between you—his body shielding yours during the a fight with slytherins, taking a curse meant for you. the weeks of recovery afterward. his insistence that he would do it again without hesitation.

"that's different," he says, but the argument sounds hollow even to him.

"it's exactly the same."

the sunlight has strengthened, cutting across his scarred face in golden bands. he looks both ancient and boyish in this light—the marauder, the man and the wolf.

"i never asked for this sacrifice," he whispers.

"you never had to."

three months earlier

"you're doing it again," sirius observed from the doorway of the library at grimmauld place, watching as you pored over ancient potion texts.

you didn't look up. "doing what?"

"that thing where you try to solve moony‘s furry little problem through sheer force of will." he crossed the room, peering over your shoulder at the yellowed pages. "thaddeus thornberry's advanced poison control? light reading, is it?"

"just curious," you said, closing the book casually—too casually.

sirius barked a laugh. "right. and i'm just curious about motorcycle maintenance. not planning to enchant one and fly it over london."

you sighed. "is there something you needed?"

"yeah, actually." he leaned against the table, arms crossed. "need you to stop whatever insane plan you're concocting before moony finds out and has a complete meltdown."

"i'm not—"

"save it." sirius cut you off with a wave of his hand. "i've known you both too long. he's getting better after full moons, but the wolfsbane isn't improving that drastically on its own. and you—" he gestured at your face, "—look worse every month."

your heart stuttered. "maybe i'm just tired."

"your lips were blue last moon." sirius's voice softened. "blue, love. like you were half-frozen from the inside out."

tears pricked behind your eyes. "i don't know what you're talking about."

"yes, you do." he sat beside you, suddenly serious in that way only sirius black could be—the gravity that lived beneath all his jokes and recklessness. "whatever you're doing to help him is killing you."

"it's not."

"it is. and when he figures it out—and he will—it'll destroy him more thoroughly than any transformation ever could."

you stared at the table, tracing wood grain patterns with your finger. "i found a way to share it. just a little. enough to make a difference."

sirius exhaled slowly. "the wolfsbane."

you nodded.

"bloody hell." he ran a hand through his hair. "that stuff is toxic enough that slughorn has to wear dragon-hide gloves to brew it. and you're what—ingesting it?"

"not directly," you mumbled. "just... residual traces. from when we..."

understanding dawned on his face. "after he takes it. when you kiss him."

you nodded again.

"does it hurt?" he asked, voice gentle.

"sometimes. mostly it just makes me cold. slows everything down." you forced a smile. "small price to pay."

sirius was quiet for so long that you finally looked up. his gray eyes were focused on some middle distance, his face a complex map of emotions.

"you remind me of james," he finally said.

that surprised you. "what? how?"

"that particular brand of self-sacrificing stupidity." a ghost of a smile touched his lips. "he'd do the same for any of us. does do the same, really,"

"it's not stupid if it works," you argued.

"it's stupid if it gets you killed." sirius took your cold hand between his warm ones.

"it won't."

"promise me you'll find another way," sirius insisted. "one that doesn't involve slow-motion suicide."

you'd promised, but some promises were made to be broken.

"how did you know?" you ask now, as remus stares at you across the dusty floor of the shrieking shack.

"i suspected something was wrong for months." his voice is steady now, professorial. "your symptoms match chronic wolfsbane toxicity. slower heart rate. decreased body temperature. the blue tinge to your fingernails during winter." he swallows hard. "i thought perhaps it was something else. an illness you were hiding. i never imagined you were deliberately poisoning yourself."

"not poisoning. sharing," you correct gently.

"semantics." he sighs, shoulders slumping. "when did sirius figure it out?"

you startle. "how did you—"

"he's been watching you like a hawk before every full moon. slipping you potions when he thinks i'm not looking."

of course he'd noticed. remus notices everything.

"about three months ago," you admit. "he caught me researching antidotes."

remus nods slowly. "and he didn't tell me."

"he promised not to. said it was my secret to tell."

"typical." there's no heat in the word—just weary resignation. "loyal to a fault, even when loyalty is the wrong choice."

you inch closer, until your knees nearly touch his. "i'm not going to stop."

"yes, you are."

"no," you reach for his hand, relieved when he doesn't pull away. "i'm not. but i will be more careful. better antidotes. proper monitoring."

"there's no safe way to do this." frustration edges his words.

"there's no safe way to love you either," you say softly. "i chose this life—chose you—knowing what it meant."

he looks at you then, really looks, and something inside him seems to crack open. "i am not worth this."

"you don't get to decide what you're worth to me."

his fingers tighten around yours. "i can't watch you die by inches."

"then help me find a better way. but don't ask me to stop trying."

the transformation has left him raw, defenses stripped away. tears gather in his eyes but don't fall. "why?" he whispers. "why would you do this?"

you could answer with platitudes. with grand declarations. instead, you give him the simple, terrible truth.

"because the night you first transformed in front of me, i saw your bones break and reform. i heard you scream until your voice gave out. i watched you tear at your own skin." your voice doesn't waver. "and i decided then that if i couldn't stop your pain, i would share it. even a fraction. even if it killed me."

remus makes a sound—half sob, half bitter laugh. "merlin help me, but i don't deserve you."

"probably not," you agree with the ghost of a smile. "but you're stuck with me anyway."

he pulls you against him then, arms wrapping around you with desperate strength. his body is warm against your perpetually cold one. you fit your head beneath his chin, listening to his heartbeat—too fast, while yours is too slow. somehow perfect counterpoints.

"we're going to find another way," he murmurs into your hair. "a way that doesn't hurt you."

you don't argue, though you both know there might not be another way. the wolfsbane is the only modern advancement in lycanthropy treatment. everything else is medieval torture or folk remedy.

"i love you," you say instead, because it's the only truth that matters.

his arms tighten around you. "enough to poison yourself."

"enough to do whatever it takes."

remus sighs, his breath warm against your scalp. "that's what terrifies me."

outside, the morning has fully arrived. sunlight streams through the cracks, illuminating dust motes that dance between you like tiny stars. the wolf has retreated for another month, but its shadow remains—in his scars, in your slowing heart, in the space between kisses that tastes of bitterness and aconite.

"come home," you whisper against his chest. "let me take care of you."

"only if you let me take care of you too," he counters.

you nod, knowing neither of you will keep that promise completely. love between broken people is never neat or simple. it's messy and desperate and sometimes dangerous—a constant negotiation between what you're willing to give and what you can bear to take.

remus stands slowly, muscles protesting the movement. you rise with him, supporting his weight without making it obvious that's what you're doing. he's too proud for open help, even now.

"sirius will be waiting," he says.

"with tea and chocolate and a lecture for both of us," you agree.

remus almost smiles. "and several illegal potions, apparently."

"those too."

as you help him toward the hidden passage, he pauses, framed in weak sunlight. "promise me something."

"anything."

"no more secrets." his eyes search yours. "not between us. not anymore."

you hesitate, then nod. "no more secrets."

it's a promise you intend to keep this time, though you both know there will always be things left unsaid—the way he sometimes wakes growling in the night, the way your fingers sometimes turn blue when you're tired, the fear that lives in both your hearts that one day the wolf will win or the poison will.

but for now, in the fragile morning light, it's enough to walk together through the tunnel, toward whatever comes next. the wolf sleeps. the poison ebbs. and love—fierce, foolish love—carries you forward through another dawn.

the journey back to hogwarts is always the worst part. the tunnel seems longer after full moons, stretching endlessly beneath the whomping willow, damp earth pressing in from all sides. remus leans heavily against you, his breathing labored. you support him without comment, knowing his pride is as fragile as his post-transformation body.

"we should rest," you suggest when his steps falter.

"no," he says, determined. "almost there."

you don't argue. the sooner you reach the castle, the sooner you can both collapse somewhere warm and safe. but with each step, the cold spreads through your limbs, a familiar numbness creeping from fingertips up your arms. you've learned to hide it well—the tremors, the dizziness that follows every full moon now—but today feels different. worse.

by the time you emerge from beneath the willow, pale morning light making both of you squint, you're not sure who's supporting whom anymore. the castle looms ahead, a stone sentinel against the dawn sky. gryffindor tower has never seemed so far away.

"we should go to pomfrey," remus murmurs, noticing your pallor.

"and tell her what?" you manage a weak smile. "that i've been voluntarily ingesting traces of a controlled substance? i'm sure that will go over well."

he frowns but doesn't press the issue. not yet.

the castle corridors are mercifully empty this early on a saturday. your footsteps echo against stone floors, a stumbling rhythm that carries you up staircases and through passageways until you reach the fat lady's portrait.

"phoenix tears," remus whispers.

the portrait swings open, revealing the warm glow of the gryffindor common room. sirius is there, as expected, pacing before the fireplace. he looks up at your entrance, relief washing over his features before quickly transforming into alarm.

"bloody hell," he breathes, rushing forward to help. "what happened?"

"i know," remus says simply.

understanding floods sirius's face. "shit." he takes remus's other side, guiding you both to the sofa nearest the fire. "sit. both of you."

you sink into the cushions gratefully, the room swaying slightly around you. the fire's warmth doesn't penetrate the chill that's settled into your bones. your fingers are distinctly blue at the tips now, no matter how close to the flames you hold them.

"where is it?" sirius demands, rifling through his pockets.

"where's what?" remus asks, confused.

sirius ignores him, producing a small vial of pearlescent liquid. "here. drink this. now."

you take the vial with trembling hands, uncorking it with difficulty. the liquid burns going down, but it's a welcome heat—something to fight the ice forming in your veins.

"what the hell is that?" remus demands, watching as color slowly returns to your face.

"cleansing potion," sirius answers tersely. "more potent than the one our friend here has been using."

remus's eyes narrow. "and you've been providing it?"

"someone had to." sirius runs a hand through his disheveled hair. "since neither of you would listen to reason."

"you knew." remus's voice is dangerously quiet. "all this time."

"not all this time," you interject weakly. "only a few months."

"and you didn't think to tell me?" hurt bleeds into remus's anger.

sirius meets his gaze unflinchingly. "it wasn't my secret to tell."

"so you enabled this instead?"

"i kept them alive," sirius snaps. "which is more than they were managing on their own. merlin's beard, moony, what would you have done? let them collapse in some corridor alone because you didn't know what was happening?"

remus falls silent, the truth of sirius's words hanging heavy between them.

your vision blurs suddenly, darkness creeping at the edges. you try to focus on the flames, on the familiar tapestries adorning the walls, but everything swims in and out of focus. your heart stutters in your chest—too slow, then racing, then slow again.

"something's wrong," you whisper, voice sounding distant to your own ears.

both men turn to you sharply. remus's hand finds your wrist, fingers pressing against your pulse point.

"her heart's racing," he says, alarm edging his words. "sirius—"

"shit," sirius mutters, digging in his pockets again. "this hasn't happened before."

the room tilts suddenly. your limbs feel leaden, disconnected from your body. distantly, you're aware of falling forward, of remus catching you before you hit the floor, of his voice calling your name with increasing desperation.

"what's happening?" remus demands, voice cracking. "what's wrong with her?"

sirius kneels beside you, face grim. "the cleansing potion. she's building a tolerance."

just as you'd feared but refused to acknowledge. just as remus had warned mere hours ago.

"do something," remus pleads, cradling you against his chest.

"i'm trying!" sirius's voice rises. "i don't—i don't have anything stronger here."

your fingers clutch weakly at remus's shirt. his face swims above you, features blurred but beautiful—always so beautiful, even ravaged by transformation and fear.

"i'm sorry," you manage to whisper.

"don't," he says fiercely. "don't you dare apologize."

"should have told you."

"yes, you bloody well should have," he agrees, but there's no anger in it now, only terror. "stay with me. please."

sirius reappears in your narrowing field of vision, another vial in hand. "this is all i have left. it might help. might not."

"might make it worse?" remus asks.

sirius hesitates, then nods. "possibly."

"her choice," remus says, though it clearly costs him. "always her choice."

through the fog wrapping around your mind, you appreciate this small concession—that even now, terrified as he is, he respects your agency. your right to choose the manner of your loving him, even when that love might destroy you both.

you nod weakly, and sirius tips the contents of the vial between your lips. it tastes of ash and metal and something ancient. your body convulses once, violently, and then everything goes perfectly, blessedly still.

for a moment, you float in darkness. not unpleasant—just nothing. no pain. no cold. no weight of choices made or unmade.

then sound filters back. remus's voice, raw with emotion.

"—can't leave me. not like this. not because of me."

your eyes flutter open. the ceiling of the common room comes into focus gradually—rich red fabric draped between wooden beams. remus's face hovers above you, tear-streaked and desperate.

"there you are," he whispers when your eyes meet his. "there you are."

you try to speak but can only manage a weak cough. sirius appears with water, helping you sit up enough to sip from the glass.

"how do you feel?" he asks cautiously.

the honest answer is: shattered. like something inside you has broken irreparably. but the blue has receded from your fingertips, and your heart beats with something approaching a normal rhythm.

"better," you lie, because the relief on their faces is worth the deception.

remus helps you sit up fully, arranging cushions behind your back. his hands linger, as if afraid you'll disappear if he stops touching you. sirius collapses into a nearby armchair, suddenly looking every one of his years and more.

"that was too close," he says quietly.

no one disagrees.

morning sunlight streams through the tower windows now, painting golden rectangles across the worn carpet. somewhere in the castle, students will be waking, preparing for weekend activities with ordinary concerns. the simplicity of that existence feels alien to you now.

"it's over," remus says after a long silence. "this experiment. these potions. all of it."

you want to argue, to insist you can find another way, but your body's betrayal is too fresh to deny. your mouth tastes of copper and aconite and fear.

"i can't lose you," he continues, voice breaking. "not for this. not so i can have marginally less pain once a month."

"it was more than marginal," you protest weakly.

"nothing is worth this," he insists. "nothing is worth your life."

sirius clears his throat. "there might be... alternatives."

you both look at him.

"not wolfsbane," he clarifies quickly. "something else entirely. something i've been researching."

"your mysterious correspondence," remus says with sudden understanding. "the letters from abroad."

sirius nods. "there's someone in eastern europe. working on a different approach to lycanthropy. less about controlling the wolf, more about... integration."

"that sounds like dark magic," remus says warily.

"not dark. just... old. predating the divisions we've created between acceptable and unacceptable magic." sirius leans forward. "it might not work. but it also won't kill either of you."

hope flickers, fragile but persistent. you reach for remus's hand, finding it already reaching for yours.

"we can talk about it," you concede. "after."

"after what?" remus asks.

"after i sleep for about forty-eight hours." your attempt at humor falls flat, but remus's lips twitch nonetheless.

"i'll carry you upstairs," he offers.

"to the boys' dormitory? scandal," you murmur.

"everyone's at hogsmeade," sirius points out, and remus continues, "and frankly, i don't give a damn about school rules right now."

remus lifts you carefully, as if you might shatter in his arms. perhaps you might. your body feels different now—fundamentally altered by months of poison and today's near collapse. whether the damage is permanent remains to be seen.

as he carries you toward the spiral staircase, you rest your head against his shoulder. despite everything—the fear, the pain, the uncertainty—there's a strange peace in surrender. in knowing you've reached a limit, that something must change.

"this doesn't mean i love you any less," you murmur against his neck.

his arms tighten around you. "i know."

"just that i love you differently now."

he pauses on the stairs, looking down at you with those amber eyes that have seen too much suffering. "how?"

you consider this as he resumes climbing. "before, i thought love meant sharing your burden. taking some of your pain as my own."

"and now?"

you reach the dormitory. he pushes the door open with his shoulder and carries you to his bed, laying you gently on sheets that smell of parchment and tea and him.

"now i think..." you search for words as he pulls a blanket over you. "now i think maybe love is learning how to carry our separate burdens side by side. not trying to take what isn't mine to bear."

remus sits beside you on the bed, brushing hair from your forehead. "wisdom through near-death experience?"

"something like that." you catch his hand, press a kiss to his palm. "still not leaving you, though."

"i wouldn't let you if you tried," he admits, the possessiveness of the wolf bleeding into his voice.

you smile, eyelids growing heavy. "good."

he stretches out beside you, careful not to jostle the bed. even exhausted and hurting from his own transformation, his first concern is for your comfort. you shift to rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

"sleep," he murmurs, fingers combing gently through your hair. "i'll be here when you wake up."

you believe him. it's one promise neither of you will break.

as consciousness fades, you feel his lips press against your forehead. "thank you," he whispers, "for loving me enough to stay. even when staying means letting go."

you don't have the strength to answer, but he understands anyway. he always does. the wolf in him senses what words cannot express—that your love hasn't diminished, only transformed. like him, it contains multitudes. like him, it survives.

the last thing you register before sleep claims you is remus's heartbeat against your ear and sirius's voice from the doorway, uncharacteristically gentle:

"they'll be alright, moony. as long as you are."

#marauders #marauders era #marauders story #marauders x reader #marauders oneshot #remus lupin x you #remus lupin story #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus x reader #remus x fem!reader #remus lupin x fem!reader

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misskingshit · 2 days ago

Text

Cut!

summary: Yuou got casted in the Eminem's biopic, as his love intrest, but ony in the movie...right?.

note: IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SOO LONG, GOD IM SORRY, if u want any other fic about whoever u want, you sent me an inbox.

It’s a beautiful day… if you count rain as beautiful, of course. It’s freezing, the wind’s cutting through your jacket, and you're dashing through the parking lot, heading straight for the recording studio. But, you can’t help the grin spreading across your face. This is Eminem’s film, 8 Mile, and somehow, you’ve been cast as his love interest.

You’d never expected anything like this to happen in your life. You’d always been a fan of his music, admired his artistry, but being this close to him? Actually in the movie? It felt surreal. It still felt like some bizarre dream you’d wake up from. But no—this was real, and you were walking straight into it.

As you entered the studio, you were met with a flood of activity: people running around, lights being set up, equipment being adjusted. It felt like a completely different world. A man, holding a clipboard, spotted you and immediately grinned.

"Good morning, you must be our future Alex," he said, offering his hand.

You laughed nervously, a hint of uncertainty creeping in, but you reached out to shake his hand, "I am. It’s a pleasure."

"The pleasure is mine," he said with a wink. "Come on, I’ll show you to your dressing room. You can get comfortable, and in about 20 minutes, they’ll come for your hair and makeup, and we’ll get you into wardrobe."

You nodded, still in awe. You were about to step into the dressing room when he glanced down at his calendar, his eyes darting over the schedule. "You’re going to look amazing today. I can feel it."

You smiled, grateful for the reassurance as you stepped into the spacious room. It was pristine, yet generic—nothing too extravagant, but definitely fitting for someone in your position now. You caught your reflection in the mirror and, for a moment, took a deep breath.

You were really doing this.

Filming was in full swing. The tension between you and Eminem—aka “B-Rabbit” on set—was palpable. The two of you were constantly thrown into intense, emotional scenes, and while it was exciting to bring Alex to life, it also made the connection between you and him feel... different. At first, you kept the distance. You were professional, and he was—well, Eminem. A legend. A little intimidating. But there was something else behind those sharp eyes. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you’d caught glimpses of it between takes.

Then came the premiere.

The red carpet stretched out before you, buzzing with excitement. Cameras flashed from every direction, and you couldn’t help but feel like a deer in headlights. You had done this before, but never like this.

And there he was.

Eminem. Standing a little off to the side, looking like he belonged in every magazine cover. As you both posed for pictures, he suddenly pulled you in closer than you expected. So close, you could feel his breath against your cheek. It wasn’t just for the cameras; there was something in the way he held you, something that felt almost... intimate.

You barely had time to register the heat rising in your cheeks before the interview started.

"So, 8 Mile—it’s been an amazing journey. You two clearly have some chemistry," one interviewer remarked, looking between the two of you with a raised eyebrow.

Eminem nodded, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "She was incredible. I couldn’t have asked for a better co-star. She brought Alex to life in a way that was... real. Beautiful, really."

You could feel your heart race at his words. Beautiful? Was he really saying that? His usual tough, aloof persona seemed to have melted away when it came to you, and the realization made your stomach do flips.

The interviewer turned to you, eyes wide with surprise. "We’ve all seen Eminem be a little... reserved when it comes to praise. It’s honestly surprising how much he’s talking about you. How do you feel about this new, softer side of him?"

You froze for a moment, completely caught off guard. The “Eminem doesn’t do compliments” idea had always been a running joke in the tabloids, so to hear him say those things in public... to you... well, it was almost too much to process.

Before you could respond, he flashed you a quick grin, his voice low enough that only you could hear it. "Yeah, I guess I’m pretty soft for her. Guess I can’t hide it."

You shot him a look, a little embarrassed, but you could feel that warmth spreading through you again.

As the event began winding down, the two of you were still answering questions for the cameras, talking about your roles, the process, and everything in between.

But then came the curveball.

Eminem, looking completely mischievous now, glanced at you and then to the cameras. "So, I’ve got a question for you," he said, leaning in slightly, the smirk on his lips turning into a playful grin. "You think I should take her home tonight? Show her a good time?"

You froze. The room seemed to go dead silent for a moment. The cameras flashed relentlessly, and every eye in the room was on you.

You felt your cheeks burn red, and you swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself.

"Uh… w-what?" you stammered, completely thrown off balance.

He laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer as the cameras continued to roll. "Just kidding," he added, still grinning like a schoolboy who knew he’d just made things way more awkward than they needed to be.

But you were still too flustered to even properly respond, feeling your heart race like crazy.

As the interview wrapped up, Eminem leaned in closer, whispering in your ear, "You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?"

You had no idea how you’d get through the night without melting into a puddle.

#eminem x reader #marshall mathers x reader #eminem fluff #marshall mathers fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers imagine #eminem fanfiction #marshall mathers fanfiction #fluff #shay's requests

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prettysatomii · 2 days ago

Text

Feverish

Sypnosis: Life as an assassin was hard. You caught a fever and your family made you feel worse. So you ran off to seek the comfort of your boyfriend for the night.

a/n: I recommend listening to any cigarettes after sex song with this :) (ntm i was half asleep writing this.)

➴ Killua Zoldyck .ᐟᅟ

Great. The fatigue was catching up to you too quickly. A quiet groan escaped you, unable to properly aim the rifle due to your shakiness. Surely you would get reprimanded for taking so long. The piece was put down against the cement with a small clunk. You got up abruptly, dusting off your clothes. This had to be done minutes ago.

You chose close range. Your family didn't prefer it—Not for targets like this anyways. However, it felt like your body was slowly giving up. Which meant that you would have to get it done as soon as possible. Just because your aim was off didn’t mean you couldn’t snap someone’s spine.

The times you would get sick would be worse than most, especially since you were trained to not fall to illness. The way home was one you couldn't quite remember. Not focusing on anything just blanking out most of the way. Perhaps thinking about the punishments you would receive. You would be ready for it when it came.

Your thoughts drifted to killua, where was he anyways? So caught up in your family business, you weren't so caught up on what he had been up to. He was persistent on not following his family's plan for him.

And you? Not the opposite, nor quite like killua either. You didn’t see yourself doing this forever. Still, There wasn't much resistance you put up against them. It was a borderline of wanting to deny and run or accept It to feel the love you so desperately grasped for.

Well, you have Killua now. Despite Your family not liking how much he rebelled against his own. You paid no mind whenever they mentioned it, you wouldn't let them take him away from you.

The warmth filled your face, bringing a hand up feeling around. Did you feel warm because of Killia or was it your new found cold? You slowed your pace—sickness was still a foreign feeling. Fever maybe?

When you finally reached home it was eerily quiet. Living in an estate wasn't the loudest by any means. That didn't mean that it would be completely silent either though. A few moments later, your mother faced you. Angry? You weren't sure. She always had the same look on her face.

“Go now. change your clothes and make yourself presentable. Then come speak with me and your father in the third wing immediately."

Her tone was similar to usual too. However, it was obvious that you were about to be punished. You knew her well enough. You didn't dare speak until after she was done. The cold room started to mix with the warmth you felt. You shivered when you responded.

“Yes ma’am.”

Once in your room, your body folded into itself. Seems like your knees gave up on you. Now that you were finally just taking it in, it all just came full force. Not like it was painful or anything. No. You had been through worse.

Reluctantly you got up from your position holding onto the nearest thing possible.

‘Shower, change, and…’ you couldn't think straight. How was it possible to feel so hot and so cold at once? Why did your bones feel like jello? Why did you feel so exhausted?

The shower was just long enough to catch up with your thoughts. You didn't have a phone. You weren't allowed to have one. There was an ipod and headphones to your name though, so it wasn't all that bad. Maybe you could use one of the house phones to call Killua. You couldn't take a punishment right now. Not when you felt like this.

The warm water felt nice, it ran down you soothingly. If you wanted to leave this house, it would have to be sooner than later. Begrudgingly you got out quickly drying yourself off. Slipping into something simple, comfortable, and warm. You threw a few things in a tote bag including your headphones. Killua liked listening to your music.

Your door slowly opened as you slipped through. A phone. One was right across the hallway. At Least having your own wing of the house had its perks. This phone was usually used to call the workers and butlers but you dialed his number instead.

The phone placed next to your ear was just ringing. Your eyelids felt like they were getting heavier by the second. You nervously tapped your foot gently against the floor while looking around for anybody.

“Hello?”

Killua had decided to pick up despite the unknown number. Usually he ignored the calls but you had mentioned once that sometimes you tried to call and he wouldn't pick up. It confused him because from his prior knowledge you didnt have a phone. You had quickly explained that it was a house phone, not a personal one. After that he picks up just to make sure it's not you who he's ignoring.

“Hii killua, sorry that we haven't spoken in a while. I've been caught up with things…” A soft sigh escaped you before continuing with a hushed voice, “Where are you? Can we meet up?”

He responded rather quickly. “Yeah..yeah we can meet up. I'm free.” He then answered your other question, “I'm far so don't worry where I am. Just tell me where you want to go, idiot.”

Your lips curled up, you haven't heard his voice in a while. There was no denying you had missed the sound of it. He always made you feel better, perhaps he would make you feel better during this fever of yours. ”That view you took me too, next to the city lights and all. I wanna go there.”

A smile was worn on your face, your words seem rushed. Well, You were rushed. You were rushing to see him and to leave your house. Your fingers found the wire of the phone fiddling with it soon after.

“Geez. There? Are you in trouble or something?”

Killua spoke questioning your choice of place. It made him feel nervous, embarassed. The first time he took you there, it was nervewrecking for him. And he would feel the same meeting you there again. Though, He couldn’t get himself to say no to you. It's not like he was thinking about it in the first place.

“About to be! Meet me there as soon as possible, ‘kay? I love you killua! byee.”

You had been whispering by the time the call ended. But he still caught it. And his voice got caught in his throat as he thought to himself.

‘She said it..! I heard it, she loves me..?!?’

The boy's face was a flushed bright pink. He gulped, his grip on his phone getting awfully tight. There was definitely something wrong with you! How could you say it so normally? Did it not make you nervous? Why didnt he say it back?! He would never have the guts to say it without covering your face or pushing you away first. Well your words certainly had an effect on him.

Killua had run with a small amount of godspeed activated.

Now it was time for you to get out. The phone was put down as you walked back over to your room. You swiftly slipped through closing the door behind you. Your balcony. That's where you would leave by. You pulled one of the doors open, not enjoying the breeze you felt. Any other time you would've liked it, but it just made you feel beyond freezing.

After closing the door you had jumped off the balcony. You could be thankful your parents taught you these things. Sure, for different purposes but still useful at the moment.

When you had landed, you immediately bolted through whatever was in your way. Through the trees, around the decorations, and sneaking past the wall separating you and the outside.

It took you longer than Killua did to make it there. When you eventually got there, you were breathing deeply, not paying much attention to your surroundings. He watched you before moving from the tree to stand in front of you.

His gaze softened as he looked at you. He seemed..nervous? What for? His hands were buried in his pockets. A smile appeared on your face when you finally registered his presence. You felt even more feverish just being around him.

9:25pm

“Hi Killuaaa,”

He took one more glance at your face.

“You’re sick aren't you?”

“Maybe, it doesn't matter. You're immune to poisons right? Sickness…poison..same thing.”

Killua rolled his eyes, holding back a smile. He had followed suit when you passed him to sit against one of the trees. You leaned your head back, closing your eyes.

He took a seat next to you, scanning you fully. You breathed deeply before opening your eyes to look back at him. Killua had quickly looked away. Obviously from being caught staring at you. It even annoyed him that you noticed it.

There was a sudden weight on his shoulder that made him glance back just to see the top of your head. You felt the immediate tense of his body before he finally eased up.

“Killua? Want one?” You held up the other earbud. The other was already in your ear. His hand grazed yours when he had mumbled a yes you assumed. He was cold, his hand was cold. But being cold when you had a fever was a good thing right?

You clicked through the songs before eventually choosing one, shoving the device back into your pocket. His shirt felt soft..his breathing would hitch occasionally since he was still a bit awkward with your touches.

9:48pm

Eventually your head started to fall. You had fallen asleep. His hand quickly moved to keep your head in place.

“Hey..hey.” He spoke softly like he didn't want to wake you up. Killua just wanted to see how deep in sleep you were. He poked your forehead scanning over your features. That got a small reaction out of you, your face scrunching ever so slightly. He sighed, rubbing where he poked you trying to sooth you.

killua proceeded to grab your sides swiftly moving you in between his legs. Laying you against his chest with a loose grip on you. His hands hovered over you before resting one at your waist. The other caresses the back of your head. just to make sure you were comfortable.

His breathing was uneven and his heart was pumping faster than normal. He seemed a bit paranoid looking around before finally settling down himself. This kind of proximity with you made him flustered despite him initiating it.

12:47am

You had woken up, your eyes slowly readjusting to the scene. Killua had laid his head on top of yours, breathing softly. You could guess He had fallen asleep not too long after you. His arm was still around your waist, the other grazing your hair.

Yes, you could wake him up. Did you want to? No. Not at all. It was rare moments like this that made everything else in life irrelevant. Instead, you wrapped your arm around him. The other hand ran through his fluffy white hair.

He grumbled at the feeling, hiding his head in the crook of your neck. His grip around your waist tightened trying to pull you closer. You could hear the crickets and trees rustling against each other. You felt him wrapped around you keeping you warm.

His head lifted from your neck, meeting your gaze after his eyes adjusted. You tilted your head at him, a small smile resting on your face. Killua stared back, deciding to be a bit out of character, just for now.

He checked your forehead and you were burning up but not as much as before. Well..it wasn't like you could get him sick anyways. He sighed tilting his head back at you before going for it.

His lips pressed against yours as his hands held your waist for security. You reciprocated, your hand balling up the fabric of his shirt. His lips were soft and warm, yours might’ve been too because he just leaned into you. Intentional and sweet was what you could expect from kissing him.

Killua was always hesitant and nervous to kiss you. But when he finally did, the embarrassment would melt away. He would try to keep you there as long as possible. A small plea in his eyes if you dared to break away. At the moment, that was the last thing on your mind.

The fever added to your exhaust, making your kisses softer. Slower. Much slower. You let go of your grasp on his shirt instead using it to hold his face. Killua felt warmer when he was kissing you. Maybe it was your heat rubbing off on him. Was that possible?

After, you parted from him with a long deep breath. This was your favorite part, the way he looked at you afterwards. Unlike how he usually acted, he just looked at you like you were an angel sent on earth. There wasn't much talking after the kisses. Most of the time, he would cling quietly to you. Leading to the two of you falling asleep intertwined.

This night wasn't any different from those. Except for the fact he waited until you succumbed to sleep. Just before he fell asleep too, he kissed your forehead murmuring.

“I love you too.”

#hxh #hxh fic #hxh killua #killua x reader #killua zoldyck #killua zoldyck x reader #fluff #killua

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