#captain on board ━ (ic) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itneverendshere · 2 months ago

Note

ex!reader who loves the game and wants to support her team but hockey captain!rafe is on the ice. he thinks she’s there for him but when she comes in with a date? and when they get put on the kiss cam? rafe slams into the glass to scare them? hate sex????

someone who lets you break them twice - hockey!toxic!rafe x ex!reader (+18)

warnings: veryyy long and 99% smut🙂‍↕️ the things i do for you...

The cold air inside the rink always made your skin tingle. Your breath curled in front of you like smoke as you moved uncomfortably on the bleachers, pulling your jacket tighter around you. This is why you hated fall. It was too cold to be outside, too early to be winter. But tonight wasn’t about the weather—it was about hockey.

Hockey and, well, the fact that you hadn’t missed a game since… well, since Rafe and you broke up.

“Everything okay?” The voice beside you pulled you back to reality.

Elijah, the guy you’d been seeing for the past couple of weeks, smiled at you, oblivious to the bullshit taking over your mind, and you gave him your best smile back.

“Yeah, just cold,” you said, trying to focus. You weren’t here for Rafe, not anymore. You loved hockey. You loved watching the boys skate across the ice, their power and grace.

Or at least that was what you kept telling yourself.

Elijah wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and you leaned in, feeling his warmth. The game was just about to start, and the arena lights dimmed slightly, casting shadows over the rink. The roar of the crowd drowned your thoughts for a moment as the players took the ice.

And then, as if the universe was personally trying to screw with you, you saw him.

Rafe.

Of course, he looked good.

God, why did he always have to look so fucking good? His broad shoulders filling out his number 17 jersey, that stupid confident smirk as he skated out with the rest of the team. His dark blonde hair peeked out from under his helmet He was captain this year, and it made sense—he’d been working his ass off since…ever. You couldn’t think of anyone more deserving than him.

He always had to be in charge, on and off the ice.

He still had that same cocky swagger that made you wanna scream… for entirely different reasons now.

You knew better than to be here, yet somehow you ended up courtside anyway. Probably because you’d never let him run you out of your favorite game. Not even if he was captain now. This was your team, the one you’d been coming to see since before Rafe even knew what a slapshot was.

You sank further into Elijah’s side, forcing your eyes away from your ex. But it wasn’t until you caught the dark blue of the jersey you were wearing in the corner of your eye that you realized… You’d put on Rafe’s jersey.

His number. The one you’d always worn to support him when you were together. Out of all the team merch you owned, of course you had to wear his.

“You really like hockey a lot, huh?” Elijah asked, glancing down at your jersey.

“Yeah,” You mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’ve been following the team for a while.”

Lies. You loved hockey, sure. But you loved Rafe a little more. Or, you used to. Or, well, maybe that was still complicated.

The puck dropped, and the game started. For a while, you tried to focus on the action. Rafe was all over the ice, playing like the goddamn superstar he thought he was. You couldn’t help but notice how his gaze kept darting up toward the stands, like he knew you were there. And maybe he did

Halfway through the second period, he slammed into an opposing player, sending him crashing into the boards. The sound echoed through the arena, and the crowd went wild, but you could feel your stomach knotting up. That had always been Rafe—intense, aggressive, unable to hold back. On the ice or off.

You tried to focus on Elijah, laughing at something he was saying, but your heart wasn’t in it. And then, just when you thought you’d survived the worst of it, the kiss cam flashed up on the big screen. Your laughter died in your throat as you realized what was happening, your face heating up instantly. You weren’t exactly embarrassed, but this was... awkward.

“Aw, how cute,” He said, grinning as he pointed to the screen.

You followed his gaze, heart dropping. They were zooming in on the two of you. You could feel the crowd around you start to cheer and whistle as Elijah leaned in closer, clearly getting ready to kiss you.

You could see him coming toward you, could see his lips getting closer, but all you could think about was—

Bang!

In the span of a second, a body slammed into the boards right in front you, the sound so loud it made you jump. The entire section gasped, and you turned your head just in time to see Rafe standing there, glaring up at you from behind the glass. His eyes were locked on you, jaw clenched.

He looked like he was ready to tear Elijah apart, or you, or both of you. His chest was heaving, eyes blazing, standing mere inches away from where you sat. He had skated right into the glass.

Your heart was practically in your throat, and it wasn't from Elijah being close. The look on Rafe’s face as he stood on the other side of the glass?

That was what had your pulse racing. You could barely focus on Elijah anymore. The way he laughed, oblivious, made your stomach churn because Rafe—Rafe—was staring like he owned you. He always had this way of making you feel like no matter what, no matter who else was around, you were his.

And you hated that you still kind of liked it.

Then, still staring at you, he mouthed the words, "I dare you."

Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

Those stupid words. Silently mouthed, but somehow loud enough to hit you like a punch through the glass. I dare you. God, what was wrong with him? He knew exactly how to push your buttons. And of course, it was working. He wasn’t just playing hockey—he was playing with you.

You could feel Elijah shifting next to you, still oblivious to the whole freaking drama unfolding right in front of him.

He was so sweet, too sweet, and it was almost infuriating right now because Rafe was standing there, with his stupid intense eyes, all but daring you to move on. Why did he have to look at you like that—like he knew you were still his.

The breakup had been brutal, the kind of messy, loud explosion where neither of you were willing to be the first to walk away. You were both too stubborn, too prideful. And now here you were, months later, still dealing with the fallout.

Elijah finally leaned in, lips brushing yours, and you kissed him, but your heart wasn’t in it. All you could feel was Rafe’s stare burning into you. The kiss cam lingered for a few seconds, and the crowd cheered, but all you felt was... empty.

When the kiss ended, you forced a smile at Elijah, but your mind was a mess. Rafe’s eyes were still on you, and you could practically feel anger radiating off him, even through the thick glass.

You glanced down, avoiding his gaze, and tugged at the hem of his old jersey, suddenly feeling like you didn’t belong in it anymore. You leaned into Elijah, mostly out of spite at this point. You could practically hear Rafe’s teeth grinding from across the glass. Good. If he thought he could just walk around, acting like he owned the place—and you—then he deserved to stew in it a little.

But, of course, he wasn’t the kind of guy to just let something like that go. You watched as he skated back into play, but his eyes kept flicking up to where you sat, like he couldn’t stop checking to make sure you were still there. Still with Elijah. His shoulders were tense, movements a little too aggressive, like he was about to snap.

You tried to focus on the game again, but your mind kept drifting back to him. You hated this. You hated that he could still make you feel this way, even now, after everything.

After the fights, after the breakup, after swearing you were over him. Why was it so hard to let him go?

The third period started, and Rafe was everywhere, throwing his weight around like he had something to prove. And maybe he did. Every hit was harder, every pass sharper. It was like he was playing angry. And you couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied, knowing you’d gotten under his skin.

But then, with less than five minutes left in the game, things escalated. He slammed into one of the opposing players so hard that the guy went down, and the whistle blew immediately. The crowd was roaring, but Rafe didn’t back off. He stood over the guy, glaring down at him like he was ready to throw a punch.

"Jesus," Elijah muttered beside you. "What the hell’s his problem?"

You didn’t answer. You knew exactly what his problem was.

The ref skated over, shouting something at Rafe, but his eyes weren’t on the ref. They were still on you, even as the other guy on the ice slowly got back to his feet. The arena was buzzing, the crowd getting rowdy, and for a second, you thought Rafe was going to lose it right there. His fists clenched, jaw set—he looked like he was ready to drop gloves and start swinging.

And then he smirked.

It was that same cocky smirk you knew so well, the one he always flashed right before doing something reckless. The ref sent him to the penalty box, and he skated off, still with that fucking look plastered on his face. Your heart was racing, your body tense. Elijah had leaned back in his seat, totally unaware about everything.

“Man, that guy’s intense,” Elijah said, shaking his head, eyes still on the ice.

You didn’t answer. Intense didn’t even begin to cover it.

Rafe was sitting in the penalty box now, helmet off, running a hand through his hair like he didn’t just about murder a guy on the ice. You could feel his eyes on you, even from all the way across the rink. You hated it. You hated that he could still get to you like this.

The last few minutes of the game passed in an instant. You weren’t really paying attention anymore, not to the score, not to the plays. You were too busy trying not to think about Rafe, about the way he had looked at you. About the way it had made you feel.

When the final buzzer sounded, the crowd erupted in cheers. Elijah stood up, stretching, turning to you with a smile.

“Ready to head out?” he asked.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

As you made your way toward the exit, weaving through the crowd, you could feel the tension building in your chest. It wasn’t over. It never really was with Rafe.

And you knew—somehow—you weren’t getting out of here without seeing him again.

You reached the bottom of the stands, where a crowd had gathered near the exit. Elijah was still chatting about the game, still clueless. But you were distracted, scanning the crowd without even realizing it.

And then you saw him. Of course, you did.

Rafe was leaning against the wall, still in his gear, helmet tucked under his arm. His eyes locked on yours the second you stepped into his line of sight. He didn’t even pretend to care about the people around him—his gaze was dark, intense, like a predator waiting for its moment.

You hated how your heart skipped.

Elijah noticed you freeze and followed your gaze, his smile faltering when he saw Rafe standing there.

"Isn’t that the captain guy?" he asked, glancing between you and Rafe, confused.

You swallowed hard, forcing your feet to keep moving. “Yeah. That’s him.”

As you passed by, Rafe pushed off the wall, stepping right into your path. Elijah, sweet, unsuspecting Elijah, paused beside you.

"Leaving already?" Rafe’s voice was low, casual, but his eyes were locked on yours, ignoring Elijah completely. "Didn’t even stick around to congratulate the team?"

You clenched your jaw, fighting to keep your cool. "It’s late, Rafe. We’re heading out."

But he wasn’t letting you off that easy. He took a step closer, his towering frame making Elijah shift uncomfortably. "You didn’t used to leave so soon," he said, voice dripping with that familiar cockiness. "Used to be the last one out."

Because you’d always let him fuck you in the locker room.

Elijah cleared his throat, trying to stand his ground. "Uh, yeah, we’ve got plans after this."

Rafe’s eyes flicked to him for the briefest second, before landing back on you.

"Plans, huh?"

Your pulse was hammering, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. Why did he always have to do this—why couldn’t he just let you go?

“Rafe, we’re done,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to hold on to the last shred of your composure. “You don’t get to pull this shit anymore.”

He glanced at Elijah briefly, his gaze cold and dismissive, then back at you. “You sure about that?” he asked, “Because it doesn’t look like it.”

You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms as you tried to calm yourself. You didn’t need this right now. Not with Elijah here. Not after everything.

“Let’s go Elijah,” you said, tugging at Elijah’s arm, desperate to get out of there before things escalated. But Rafe wasn’t having it.

He stepped in front of you again, blocking your path like he had some kind of claim on you. And God, the worst part was—you weren’t sure he was wrong.

You glanced at Elijah, who was staring at the two of you like he had walked into the middle of a conversation he couldn’t quite follow. “Look, dude,” he started, awkwardly laughing, “I don’t know what this is, but—”

“It’s nothing,” you cut him off quickly, your voice tight. “Let’s just go.”

But Rafe wasn’t about to let it go.

“Yeah, Elijah,” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “It’s nothing.” His eyes flicked to you, dark and daring, and before you could stop yourself, you met his gaze with the same fire.

Elijah’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out, frowning.

“Shit,” he muttered, distracted. “I’ve gotta take this call real quick. Give me a sec?” He stepped away, leaving you and Rafe standing there in the middle of the hallway, your body practically vibrating.

He was on you in an instant, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the locker room door.

“Rafe, what the fuck—” you hissed, but he wasn’t letting go.

You tried to resist, but something inside you broke down—the anger, the unresolved pull between you two. And maybe it was the way he still had that stupid hold on you, the way your body responded when you shouldn’t want it to.

Or maybe it was the fact that you’d never fully closed the door on Rafe.

He shoved the door open, pulling you inside the dimly lit hallway that led to the locker room. The second the door closed, you spun around, shoving him in the chest hard.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that?”

Rafe barely flinched, his gaze smoldering as he crowded you against the wall.

“Yeah? You didn’t seem to think so when you were wearing my jersey tonight.”

“That was an accident.”

“Bullshit,” he growled, leaning in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Bringing a date with you. Do you want me to kill someone?"

Your heart was pounding, and not just because Rafe had you pinned against the wall like he always fucking did— God, why did he have to be so damn close? The scent of his cologne mixed with the sweat from the game, sending your mind spiraling. He was overwhelming, and you hated it. You hated him for still making you feel like this.

“Get off me,” you snapped, but it came out weaker than you intended. The way his blue eyes were boring into yours, like he could see through all your bullshit, wasn’t helping.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it grew.

“C’mon, baby, don’t act like this wasn’t what you wanted. You show up, wearin’ my number, sitting there with some random guy like I don’t still own you.”

He stepped closer, caging you in completely. You pressed your hands against his chest, but it wasn’t like you were really pushing him away. And he knew it.

“You don’t own shit,” you spat, glaring up at him. But even as the words left your mouth, you knew you didn’t believe them. The truth was, part of you had always been his.

Rafe’s lips curved into a smug grin as if he could read every thought running through your head.

“Really? ’Cause from where I’m standin’, you’ve been thinkin’ about me all night.” His breath was hot on your skin, and you hated how much you wanted to close the distance between you.

Your jaw clenched as you tried to muster the strength to tell him to fuck off, to leave you alone, but he was right. As much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, he was still in your head, under your skin. The way his body hovered over yours—it was like nothing had changed. Like you hadn’t spent the last few months trying to forget him.

His hand found your hip, fingers pressing into your skin through your jeans, and you felt your body betray you. You cursed yourself silently as heat pooled low in your stomach. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, didn’t want him to know how much power he still had. But damn it, he knew. He always fucking knew.

“I hate you,” you muttered. It was a weak defense, and you both knew it.

Rafe leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “Yeah?” His voice was a low rasp that made your knees weak. “Funny, you never sound like you hate me when you’re under me.”

Your breath hitched, and you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

“Don’t—”

But he was already kissing you, hard and rough like he owned you, like you were his and his alone.

And the worst part? You kissed him back. His hands were on you, grabbing at your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. You wanted to shove him away, to slap that stupid look off his face—but your body had other plans.

This was so wrong, on so many levels.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, but Rafe didn’t back off. He was staring down at you like you were his next meal, like he’d been starving without you.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you bit out, trying to cling to some sense of control.

Rafe’s grin widened, wicked and knowing. He leaned in again, lips ghosting over yours. “We both know that's a lie.”

You clenched your fists, frustrated beyond belief. Frustrated at him, at yourself, at how easy it was for him to pull you right back in.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, but the breathless tone in your voice told a different story.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, the corner of his mouth lifting in that infuriatingly sexy way he always did.

“Oh, you will.”

And God help you—you knew he was right. That fucking arrogance. It crawled under your skin, set your blood on fire in ways it shouldn’t.

You wanted to punch him, shove him, do something to wipe that smug expression off his face. But instead, you grabbed his shirt, pulling him back toward you, kissing him with all the fury you felt.

His lips crushed against yours, and it wasn’t gentle—there was nothing soft or sweet about this. It was all heat and frustration, months of unresolved anger bursting out in one chaotic, messy kiss.

His tongue slipped past your lips, and you bit down, hard, just to remind him you weren’t going to make this easy. He groaned, low and rough, pulling back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark. "You always did like it rough."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you yanked him down, kissing him like you needed to get all of this out of your system. His hands roamed your body, possessive, rough, and you hated how much you craved him, like you were still his.

You weren’t his. You couldn’t be.

But every heated breath you took, every desperate movement your body made, was telling you otherwise.

When his lips moved down your neck, teeth grazing your skin, you gasped, tilting your head back as your resolve crumbled to pieces. He knew exactly what to do, how to make you fall apart, and it pissed you off that he still had that power.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you with ease, pressing you harder against the wall. Your breath hitched, the cold tile behind you making you gasp. His mouth was on you, hot and demanding, and for a moment, it was like nothing else mattered.

Not Elijah, not the fact that this was so damn wrong, not the months of hurt and anger you’d been holding onto.

There was only Rafe. The way he touched you, the way he kissed you like he was trying to stake his claim all over again. Like you hadn’t been apart at all.

"Tell me you don’t want this," Rafe muttered against your lips.

You bit down on your lip, trying to stop the words from spilling out. You did want this. You hated that you did, but fuck, you couldn’t lie—not to him, not to yourself.

“I—” You choked on the words, eyes meeting his, and for a split second, you thought maybe you’d find some kind of resolve, some way to pull yourself back from him.

But he wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, his mouth capturing yours again in a kiss so raw, it was borderline filthy. And that was it. Your last piece of control vanished, and you were lost in him all over again.

“Fuck,” you gasped, head spinning as his hands explored your body like he had every right to. Like you hadn’t spent months trying to break free of him.

Rafe pulled back just enough to smirk down at you, breathless and flushed. “Yeah, baby. That's what I thought."

His hands gripped your ass hard enough to leave bruises, you let out a frustrated, muffled groan, your fingers still tangled in his hair. It was a lot longer than the last time you’d seen him.

You could feel every inch of his muscle through the thin fabric of your shirt. It was suffocating in the best way, and you hated yourself for how much you wanted it.

How much you wanted him.

“You’re such an ass,” you gasped between kisses, your breath hitching when his mouth moved down to your neck. You felt him grin against your skin, the bastard.

“You say that like it’s supposed to stop you.” His voice was rough, low in your ear, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “But I don’t think it is.”

You were about to fire back, but his hands slid under your shirt, fingers grazing your skin, and whatever you were going to say was swallowed by the heat rushing through you. You hated that he still knew exactly how to get to you—how to pull you apart and leave you helpless against him.

“Rafe, this—” Your words were cut off when he bit down gently on your collarbone, sending a shockwave through your body. You clutched at his shirt.

“This what?” he taunted, pulling back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes intense. “This a mistake? Because I don’t think that’s what your body’s saying.”

You just glared up at him, trying to catch your breath. You hated that he was right. Again.

Always.

“I told you,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky, “this doesn’t mean anything.”

Rafe’s grip on you tightened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

Your heart was racing, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin. There was no denying it—you were here, and you weren’t leaving. Not yet.

Maybe not for a while.

And Rafe knew it.

His hands moved lower, fingers grazing the waistband of your jeans, and your breath hitched. This was dangerous territory. You knew that.

“Last chance,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours. “You want me to stop?”

You should’ve said yes. You should’ve shoved him away and walked out of there with what little dignity you had left. But instead, you kissed him again—harder this time, angrier, like you needed to prove something to yourself. And maybe you did.

He yanked your shirt over your head in one rough motion, and you weren’t gentle either, tugging at his jersey until it was off and tossed aside. His hands were everywhere—on your back, in your hair, slipping under the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down with the same reckless urgency you’d been feeling since you laid eyes on him tonight.

“I hate you,” you whispered as your nails dragged down his chest, leaving angry red lines in their wake.

Rafe just laughed, “No, you don’t,” he growled, his hands grabbing your hips as he settled you onto one of the locker room benches. “But keep telling yourself that.”

Your jeans hit the floor, and he wasted no time, his hands gripping your thighs as he positioned himself between your legs, pressing you down on the bench, his body heavy against yours.

Everything was messy, and rushed, like neither of you could get enough. Like you were trying to erase the months of distance, of frustration, in the way you kissed him back, bit his lip, tugged at his hair.

You hated how much you needed this.

“Still think this doesn’t mean anything?” Rafe rasped, his voice hoarse as he pressed his forehead against yours, breathless and wild.

You could barely think, let alone speak, but somehow, you managed to gasp out, “Positive.”

Rafe’s mouth moved down your neck, biting and sucking, leaving marks you knew would still be there tomorrow. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

It was wrong, it was toxic, but fuck—there was something about the way he touched you. And body, traitorous and weak, responded like it always had.

You were furious with yourself, with him, with everything, but the anger only made it all hotter, more intense.

His fingers brushed against the seam of your panties, teasing, barely touching you, but doing enough to have you drenched.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, almost amused, slipping one finger under the fabric to run along your folds, barely dipping inside before pulling back out, "Was this all for Elijah?"

Sonofabitch.

“Stop talking,” you spat, but your voice was shaky, showing him the way you were falling apart under his touch. Rafe chuckled low in his throat, his finger moving back, this time slipping inside you, deep and slow.

You gasped, your head falling back as he began moving his finger, curling it inside you in just the right way. Your body responded immediately, hips jerking against him, desperate for more, but he took his time. He added another finger, stretching you out as his thumb rubbed slow circles over your clit, making your legs tremble beneath him.

He sped up, his fingers thrusting deeper, faster, hitting that spot inside you that made your mind go blank. “You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you? All those nights pretending you don’t think about me, but look at you now.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, legs shaking as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, his fingers driving you closer and closer to the orgasm you so desperately needed.

His thumb pressed harder against your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you. “Tell me how bad you need this.”

“Rafe—” you gasped, your hips bucking wildly against his hand. The tension inside you was coiled so tightly, so close to snapping. You hated him, hated yourself, but the words slipped out anyway. “I need it.”

He groaned, pleased, and that was all it took. He thrust his fingers harder, faster, until your body gave in completely. You hadn’t had a proper orgasm in months. Nothing could get you off properly. Your walls clenched around his fingers the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your nails leaving half-moon marks in his skin as you trembled beneath him, lost in the sensation.

But he didn’t stop. He slowed down just enough to draw out every last bit of pleasure, his fingers still moving inside you as you rode out the aftershocks. When you finally caught your breath, he pulled his fingers out, his hand moving to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

He shoved his pants down, not bothering to take them off completely, just enough to free himself. Your breath hitched when you felt him against you—hard, hot, and ready—and every rational thought you had left disappeared in that moment. He lined himself up, teasing you just enough to drive you crazy.

Before you could respond, he pushed into you in one hard, deliberate thrust. Your gasp turned into a low, breathless moan as your back arched, your hands gripping his shoulders for something to hold on to. The sensation of him stretching you, filling you, was overwhelming, almost too much, but exactly what you needed.

Rafe didn’t give you time to adjust. He pulled back and slammed into you again, setting a punishing rhythm that left you breathless, gasping for air.

There was nothing gentle about it, nothing tender.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he fucked you like he was trying to remind you who you belonged to.

And you hated how good it felt.

“You’re mine,” Rafe growled, his voice rough as he thrust into you, each movement deep and brutal.“Doesn’t matter who you’re with, doesn’t matter how much you try to deny it—you’ll always come back to me.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, but your body was betraying you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about this every night since we ended.”

You couldn’t.

The words were right there, on the tip of your tongue, but instead, a moan escaped your lips as he hit that perfect spot inside you. Your body arched against his, and you cursed yourself for being so weak.

“Fuck,” you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure built, every nerve in your body on fire.

“That’s what I thought,” Rafe growled, his pace quickening, the force of his thrusts making the bench creak beneath you.

The sound of the bench, the way his body pressed into yours so perfectly, the heat of his breath against your neck—it all made it impossible to think straight. You should have been disgusted with yourself for letting it get this far, for letting him have this kind of control over you.

“I fucking hate you,” you managed to gasp out between breaths.

Rafe chuckled, “Yeah? Then why do you sound like that, huh?” His voice was taunting, filled with the arrogance you hated, “This pussy still mine, huh?”

You loved the way he grabbed you like you were his, even though you’d sworn, sworn, you were done with him.

You were still in love, weren’t you? Even after all the shit, all the screaming matches, the nights spent crying because of him. That was the part that pissed you off the most.

Before you knew, his hands were flipping you over so fast your knees hit the bench before you could react.

“Rafe—mmh,” you gasped, but your words died in your throat when he shoved you forward, pressing your chest flat against the cold wood of the bench. You barely had a second to brace yourself before his hands were gripping your ass, spreading you open for him.

He didn’t give you time to catch your breath. He was already dragging the head of his cock through your wetness, teasing, knowing how much you wanted it, even if you wouldn’t say it.

You squirmed, hating how desperate you felt, hating how your body responded to him like this. “Fuck, Rafe, stop teasing—”

“You want more?” he cut you off, voice dark and dripping with arrogance. He slapped your ass, just enough to sting, and you yelped, your back arching instinctively. “You’re gonna have to beg for it.”

"Like hell," you spat back.

He leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back, his mouth right by your ear.

“You can act tough all you want, but I know how much you want this,” he gritted out, his cock sliding against your folds again, torturously slow. “I know how much you need it.”

Before you could snap back, he thrust into you hard, filling you completely in one brutal stroke. You cried out, hands gripping the edges of the bench, and Rafe didn’t even give you a second to adjust. He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in, faster this time, deeper.

The angle had you seeing stars. The bench was narrow, forcing your legs closer together, making everything tighter, more intense. You couldn’t stop the way your body responded to him, hips moving back to meet his thrusts even though your mind was screaming at you to get a grip.

His hands gripped the fat of your ass, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small room, mixing with your moans and his ragged breathing.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Rafe groaned, his voice low and rough as he thrust into you, each movement hitting that perfect spot inside you, making your legs tremble. “So fucking tight for me.”

He pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that had you on the edge in seconds. You couldn’t stop the moan that ripped from your throat, your hips bucking wildly against him as the pleasure built, higher and higher until you felt like you might break apart.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” He rasped, his voice thick with lust. “I can feel it. Fuck.”

You tried to hold on, tried to keep some control, but it was useless. He knew exactly how to break you.

“I’m gonna come,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whimper as you felt the pleasure rising fast, threatening to consume you.

“Do it,” Rafe growled, his fingers rubbing harder, faster. “Come for me, baby.”

And you did.

Your orgasm crashed over you so hard your vision blurred, your body shaking as the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your walls clenching around him, and Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he fucked you through it, relentless, brutal, until your entire body was trembling.

But he wasn’t done.

He pulled out suddenly, and before you could catch your breath, he yanked you up, turning you around. You barely had time to register what was happening before he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the cold locker. His cock was back inside you in seconds, filling you again, and you moaned, the new angle sending jolts of pleasure through your already overstimulated pussy.

He pounded into you, his grip on your ass bruising, and you clung to him, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he fucked you against the lockers. The sound of metal creaking under the force of his thrusts only made it hotter, more desperate. You could feel another orgasm building, and you hated him for it—hated how easily he could pull them from you.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough as he buried his face in your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin. “You’ll always be mine.”

And you hated that some twisted part of you wanted it to be true.

Your legs tightened around him, pulling him impossibly closer, deeper, as if you couldn’t get enough of him.

And God, you couldn’t.

His grip on your ass was rough, bruising, but it only made you moan louder. You were on the verge again—your body still tingling from the last orgasm, but the way he moved inside you, the way his teeth grazed your neck, it had you spiraling toward another one, faster than you thought possible.

“Look at you,” Rafe groaned, lifting his head just enough to lock eyes with you. His pupils were blown wide with lust, a wild look on his face that sent a thrill down your spine. “Fuck, you love this, don’t you?”

You did. Because no matter how much you hated him, how much you wanted to hate him—there was a part of you that still belonged to him. A part of you that couldn’t walk away.

His lips were everywhere—on your neck, your collarbone, your jaw—and you couldn’t stop the sounds escaping your throat as he kept driving into you.

“Say it,” he growled, “Say you’re mine.”

You bit down on your lip, trying to hold it in, trying to fight back, but every nerve in your body was betraying you. The way his body fit against yours, the way he moved inside you, it was all too much. You were coming again, and you hated it.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and wild. “Say it.”

You wanted to spit in his face. But your body was telling a different story, hips bucking against him, legs tightening around his waist again.

“R-Rafe,” you whimpered, hating how weak you sounded, how desperate.

His smirk was infuriating, but fuck, it was hot.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his pace quickening, each thrust deeper than the last. “You’re mine. Always have been.”

And then he slammed into you one last time, hitting that perfect spot inside you, and the orgasm tore through you, leaving you gasping and trembling in his arms. You cried out, head thrown back against the lockers as your body shook with the force of it, your nails raking down his back.

Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he rode out your orgasm, his movements growing sloppier, more erratic. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned, his hips jerking against yours as he finally let go, his release hitting hard. You felt the warmth of him spill inside you, as he held you against him, buried deep.

The second his breathing slowed and his grip on you loosened, reality came crashing back in.

What the fuck had you done?

You pushed at his chest, trying to put some space between you, but he wasn’t letting go that easily. His arms stayed wrapped around you, his body pressed against yours like he still had something to prove.

“Get off,” you muttered, your voice weak, but sharper than before.

He chuckled, that low, arrogant sound that drove you crazy. “That’s not what you were saying five minutes ago.”

You shot him a glare, shoving at his chest again, harder this time. “I’m serious, Rafe. Move.”

Reluctantly, he let go, stepping back just enough for you to slide off the locker and onto shaky legs. You stumbled a bit, and Rafe’s hand shot out to steady you, but you jerked away from him, pulling your jeans back up with shaky hands.

He leaned against the locker, smirking like he hadn’t just torn your world apart all over again. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You wanted to scream at him, to throw something at his face. But instead, you grabbed your shirt off the floor, yanking it over your head as you tried to steady your breath.

“Good luck finding your date.”

Elijah. You’d come to the game with Elijah.

You shook your head as you zipped up your jeans and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to look somewhat presentable. You avoided looking at him, knowing that if you did, you’d see the smug satisfaction on his face that would only make you feel worse.

He pushed himself off the locker and took a step closer to you. You flinched, stepping back instinctively. “This can’t happen again.”

His smirk slipped for a moment as he looked at you. H e closed the distance between you in two strides, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist, pulling you toward him before you could react, “You’re choosing him?”

You yanked your wrist out of his grip, your heart racing as you forced yourself to take a step back, putting distance between the two of you, “You’re the one who chose yourself.”

His eyes darkened, searching your face, like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. Maybe he thought he still had you wrapped around his finger.

“You’re the one who walked away,” you added, hating how your voice trembled, “So don’t act like I owe you anything.”

Rafe’s hand hovered like he was about to reach for you again, but he didn’t. “That’s not how I remember it.”

Your stomach twisted, “I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t—” You glanced at the door, feeling the weight of Elijah waiting for you. The one person who was good for you, who actually wanted to be with you.

But the worst part? You were still thinking about Rafe. Even after everything, you were still here, breathless, a mess because of him.

He took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours, and for a second, you thought he might apologize. Maybe say something real. But Rafe Cameron didn’t do apologies.

He raised an eyebrow, “Really?” His hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face in a gesture that was far too intimate, given everything that had just happened. “Then why are you still standing here?”

You flinched, stepping back. Why were you still standing there? You had no good answer, at least not one you were ready to admit.

“Go back to your date,” Rafe continued, his voice mocking now, “Pretend like he’s enough for you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep the tears at bay. You couldn’t give him that satisfaction, not again. “You’re wrong.”

Rafe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I don’t think I am.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, throat tight, trying to push back the tears. This was all wrong. It was always wrong with Rafe, “Stop.”

It sounded like a plea—a plea for him to stop talking, stop looking at you like that, stop making you feel so small and yet so overwhelmed all at once.

Rafe sighed, stepping back just a fraction, and for a second, his gaze lifted. But it wasn’t enough. It never was. “I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said, his voice softer now, like that made a difference.

“You always do,” you shot back, finally meeting his eyes. The truth slipped out before you could stop it, and there it was.

His jaw clenched, "I don’t mean to," he muttered, his voice low. "You know that."

"Does it even matter?" You felt the bitterness rise in your throat, along with something else—something fragile and painful. "You still do it. Whether you mean to or not."

Rafe stayed quiet, and you hated that silence. He didn’t have an answer. He never did, not for this. Your fingers fumbled with the zipper of your jacket, something to keep your hands busy so you wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t say something you’d regret. But regret was already everywhere, suffocating you both.

“I thought we were past this,” you said finally, barely more than a whisper. “I thought I was past this.” But clearly, you weren’t. Clearly, some part of you was still here, with him, in the wreckage you’d both created.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated, torn. “It’s not that simple.”

"It should be." Your voice cracked. You hated how much this hurt. How much he could still hurt you.

It wasn’t fair. You weren’t supposed to still care this much. You weren’t supposed to still feel this.

Rafe sighed, taking another step back, giving you space. But it wasn’t the kind of space you wanted. It wasn’t the kind that would make things easier. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he admitted quietly, his eyes searching yours for something he couldn’t find.

You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. "I don’t want anything from you."

That was the truth, or at least it was supposed to be. You didn’t want anything he had to offer, not anymore. Not when every time you reached for it, it slipped through your fingers like water, leaving you emptier than before.

But there was still that ache, that feeling between you two, the one that dragged you back here even when you knew better. You wished you could kill it, cut it out of you like some infected part, but it was tangled too deep. And maybe a small part of you didn’t want to.

“You keep saying that,” he murmured, his voice almost tender, like he was seeing right through you. “But you’re still here.”

“I don’t know why,” you whispered, blinking back tears. Fuck, you hated this. Hated how vulnerable you felt, how easily he could unravel you, even now. “I shouldn’t be.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, watching you, like he was waiting for you to make the next move. Like he wanted you to figure it out on your own.

But you didn’t know how. You never did when it came to him.

"I’m sorry," he said, and this time, it felt real. There was no arrogance. Just Rafe, standing there, as broken as you felt. "I don’t know how to fix this."

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “There’s nothing left to fix, Rafe. We’ve already destroyed it.”

His face twisted, like he didn’t want to believe it. Like he was still holding onto some small piece of hope. "We could—"

"No," you cut him off, shaking your head. "We can’t."

You couldn’t keep doing this. The push and pull, the endless cycle of hurt and apologies that never really fixed anything. You couldn’t keep pretending that something would change, that he would change.

Because you both knew he wouldn’t.

He took a breath, exhaling slowly, and you could see it—the realization sinking in.

He knew it too. "I never wanted to lose you," he admitted quietly.

You swallowed hard, your chest tight. "You already did."

1K notes · View notes

reiderwriter · 6 months ago

Text

🔫 Oh, Captain, My Captain 🔫

Pairing: Unit Chief!Spencer Reid x Fem BAU!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: Unit Cheif!Spencer who uses gun training as an excuse to rub up on the new member🤭

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI Gun kink, dubcon, dry humping, pictures/photos, age gap, Pervert! Spencer, unprotected sex, implied cream pie, semi-public sex, boss x employee dynamic, spanking, masturbation, slight cum play, degradation (slut, whore etc), praise kink if you squint (good girl).

A/N: This is my first entry for the CM Kink Bingo challenge 2024~! I chose a lot of the prompts based on some of the smut requests in my inbox and let my TELL you I was SO EXCITED to write Unit Chief + gun kink!!! I'm so excited for this entire challenge tbh, it reminds me of the good old days on past years' Kinktober 😂🥰

Masterlist || Bingo Board

When Spencer Reid was made the interim Unit Chief for the BAU, he agreed with the reasoning. At the time, he really couldn't argue that he was aptly experienced, responsible enough to make big decisions, and reliable. And whilst he had been through a lot in the last two decades with the FBI, he still did value his own sense of morality.

He accepted the job and then was assigned you as an intern, and suddenly, he didn't agree with any previous assessment of him.

Experienced, yes, but he was still stammering and rambling when discussing simple things like the weather. He certainly wasn't responsible enough to keep his eyes off you, and he probably couldn't be relied on in the field to focus instead of thinking about your pretty, plump lips and how they would feel wrapped around his cock.

All morality had gone out of the window after a week of working with you when he closed his office blinds, popped his pants open and took his cock in hand, relieving himself while staring at your newly printed ID card.

He had a lot of power, during the few months Emily was away, and he was trying desperately not to use it.

Unfortunately, with great power comes a great amount of orders to give, and since you reported directly to Unit Chief Reid, you'd become his de facto shadow for the first few weeks. You bought him coffees when you got your own, asked him for quick run downs of past cases so you could take notes and remember relevant details for later, asked him for help writing reports.

Which caused the blinds to be drawn at least once a day as he desperately tried to keep his hands off you.

Emily had joked when leaving him behind that she'd usually give the new boss the “don't shit where you eat” speech, especially with people in your chain of command, but it really wasn't necessary with him. Of all people.

It didn't help that you were so damn clumsy in the office. You were usually pretty calm and collected, but since starting at the BAU, the pressure was getting to you a bit.

You made small mistakes, you double, and triple checked your work, and you were constantly in Spencer's office asking him for opinions on topics, for background information, and for, well, reassurance.

And you dropped stuff. A lot of stuff.

Your analytical Monday have been perfectly suited to the BAU, but somewhere between your head and your hands, all your body parts refused to function adeptly. You'd dropped things constantly, tripped on your own feet, and constantly bumped into people even while they stood still.

Not to mention the time your dropped your (thankfully, iced) coffee all over Spencer's lap when you'd brought him his own.

“Oh my- Oh my god, Doctor Reid, I am so so sorry,” you scrambled, immediately grabbing tissues as he jumped up from the desk.

“Please let me help you, god, I'm so stupid, I'm so sorry-” you said, patting away as his lap as he stood frozen in front of you. You dropped to your knees to mop up the traces of coffee still running down his thighs, as he stammered.

“Y/N, please, you don't need to, I have a spare pair I can-”

“I'll have them dry cleaned, I promise,” you begged, just as a knock sounded and the door to his office swung back open for JJ to enter through.

“Spencer, the files for the- woah! Okay, I'm not jumping to conclusions, but I'm still backing out of this room right now.”

She laughed her way out of the room, which was when your brain finally caught up to your hands and realized the stupid position you'd put yourself in.

You'd practically pushed your boss up against the wall, kneeled before him, and begged to touch him.

You'd squeaked out an apology and quickly left the office, much to Spencer's relief, because even after an ice bath and semi-public humiliation, he was hard and horny and his IQ had been knocked to roughly 7.

How he'd wanted to keep you pinned in place, to stroke your cheek as he made sure you took each inch of him down your throat slowly, filling you up so you couldn't escape.

How he'd wanted to keep his job as well, something he'd probably not get to do if JJ had decided to walk back in, or - god forbid - bring other witnesses to his debauchery.

You were clumsy, and he was desperately horny, and you were both complete and total messes.

“I don't see how I can help you, Y/N,” Tara held up her hands in defeat as you begged for her help.

“I'm competent with a gun, but it's not something I can teach you. I wouldn't know where to start.”

“I just need someone to show me how to hold it properly. There's a trick to it, right? There has to be a trick to it?”

“Ah yes, the old aim and shoot trick, I forgot about that one,” Rossi laughed, shaking his head at your office antics.

You'd been interning for a few weeks, and the latest in a line of ability tests was shooting. You'd pretty much aced the physical fitness test, but you'd never even held a gun before joining the FBI, and you were struggling.

“I've put in 10 hours at the shooting range in the last week, and the closest I've got to an accurate shot was hitting the next lane's paper. Don't ask.”

Your coworkers shared a sympathetic look as you sat down at the round table, ready to hear the next case details.

“I'm relegated to office work until I pass this certificate, and I was not made for sitting at a desk for 7 hours.”

“Well, why don't you ask Reid for help?” JJ said helpfully, bringing her coffee to her lips to hide the meddling smile plastered there.

“Reid?”

“He had some issues shooting when he was a rookie as well, but he put in some hours at the range, and now he's the best shot on the team.”

“Easy there, blondie, I'm nothing to sniff at with a gun myself,” Rossi smiled, patting himself on the back.

“I'm sure he'd enjoy helping you,” JJ continued.

“Who would enjoy what?” Spencer said, finally joining the team in the meeting room and pulling out the case files as everyone opened up their tablets.

“Y/N was just saying she's having some trouble shooting, and I suggested she ask for your help?”

He froze momentarily and stared down at you as you looked up at him, hopefully, a shy smile on your face.

He tried to keep his eyes on yours, but from this height, he had the perfect view down your shirt, your perfect-sized breasts pressing together as you leaned towards him, giving him a generous eyeful.

He looked away quickly and nodded his agreement, sitting himself down and attaching his eyes to the files instead so he could get his mind off of your body, and your lips, and the begging that surely would've come out of your mouth had he not accepted earlier. His brain was tormenting him with images of you underneath him, under his desk even, his cock in your mouth as you paid for his precious time training you. He blinked away the thoughts and, for once in his life, actually had to put effort into reading and understanding each word on a page as he ignored the raging fire of his lust.

A few hours later, the two of you were at the shooting range.

“My main problem is shooting. The instructors said my form isn't great either and that I looked like a child playing with toys whenever I hold a gun, so if you could help with that…?” You said, putting on the goggles and turning back to look at your boss.

“Doctor Reid?” You asked.

“Oh, yeah. Yes, they said something similar when I was training. First, let's see what you can do.”

You smiled at him as he watched you bounce up to the lane and pick up the gun. You calmed your breathing and got ready to take the safety off when you felt a hard hand clamp over your own and pull the gun from your hand.

“What are you doing?” He asked, staring down at you with wide eyes.

“You said to show you-”

“You're not wearing a vest.”

You cursed quickly as he pulled you back over to the side of the room. The place was practically deserted, as it was past the official closing hours of the range, but Spencer had been forced to pull some strings with his new title and had managed to keep it open (and somehow unmanned) until now.

He quickly grabbed the first vest he saw and pulled it over your head, taking the side straps and tightening them until the vest was comfortably protecting all your major organs. His hands lingered for a second, and you stared shocked up at him, somehow enjoying the way he pushed you around.

You were a grown woman, and you could do this all by yourself, but there was something about a man roughly a decade and a half older than you controlling your movements that were entirely too dangerous. You quickly stepped away and back to the podium, whispering a quick thanks under your breath as you tried to ignore the heat pooling between your legs.

You stretched out your neck a little as you felt him walk back behind you again, keeping his distance as he watched you shoot your first clip at the targets.

Out of six bullets, you'd missed the target five times and had grazed just below the targets arm once, a brilliant display of your natural lack of talent.

“Your form is wrong. You're holding yourself too rigid, which means the recoil has a higher chance to hurt you. Loosen your arms slightly.”

His advice was actually good and you followed his instructions closely, listening clearly as he walked you through each tip.

“Like this?”

“A little more… here, let me.”

You had no chance to react before his body was pressed behind yours and his hands were wrapped around your own, moving g each finger by a fraction to improve your grip, trailing up your arms slowly, leaving a field of goosebumps wherever his fingers grazed. He repositioned your elbows before moving forward his hands down to your hips, turning them slightly as he widened your stance.

“Try now.”

Breathless, you could only nod as he stepped back, unaware if he'd even said anything since his hands had landed on you.

You forced yourself to breathe again and took one shot.

"Oh my god, it hit. Spencer, it hit!”

“Do it again and we can celebrate.”

Another five shots later, and you'd managed a small cluster of hits around the arms and one shot.

“You're definitely veering left, so let's try and over correct by aiming to the right.”

He pushed up against you again and held the gun, moving it to the right a fraction, taking complete control of your body.

If your breath was scarce before, it was totally gone now as you felt his crotch press up against your ass. Considering the bulletproof vests put an extra inch around your chests, he was absolutely doing it on purpose, and you were shocked to realize you were too.

You'd pushed your ass back into him, grinding slowly on his hardening cock as he hooked his head over your shoulder, looked down the sight with you, and fired the gun.

Straight into the center of the target.

“Good girl,” he whispered before pulling away.

He moved two meters away from you, and maintained the distance for the rest of the night, and even though you were both aware of his hard cock tightening his pants, neither of you said a word.

“Same time tomorrow,” he said and grabbed his jacket to leave. It was the first thing he'd said as your Unit Chief that even vaguely sounded like a command and not an enthusiastic suggestion, and you were suddenly very excited for the rest of the week.

“Before we start,” he said the next day, unbuttoning his shirt sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows neatly. “Show me your posture again.”

He gestured towards one of the dummy guns at the side of the range, the style you recognised from mission training that held small layers instead of bullets - same weight, same mechanism, no lethality.

You'd spent the day and night worked up from the last time you'd been here with him, and a small part of you felt disappointed you were starting with the kiddy gun. Not one to miss an opportunity, though. You bent over to pick it up, making sure to bend at the waist right in front of him to show off your ass.

Maybe you'd gone crazy, but the memory of his touch was burning you from the inside out and you needed to feel it again to make sure you weren't crazy.

He maintained his distance, though. It was hard for him to keep his hands off you in all honesty, arms crossed to keep himself from crossing any more lines. That and he was sure that you'd be able to tell he'd spurted cum all over them in his office the night before despite him scrubbing them thoroughly multiple times, the weight of his guilt eating into him like a parasite.

“Arms up, point straight. Good.” You tried to keep still as he assessed your form, but his eyes prowled over you thoroughly, and you had to suppress a shudder.

“You need to control your breathing, Y/N, you can't be afraid of pulling the trigger if you need to.”

“I'm not-”

“Shoulders back,” he said, moving to your side as he again began slightly correcting your form.

Unlike the day before, though, this time, there were no bullets. And no bullets meant no bulletproof vest.

That's why when his exploring hands came to your chest, he could feel your hardening nipples through the flimsy material of your dress. He could feel you pressing forward into his touch as his hands cupped your breast.

“Calm your heartbeat, Y/N. You need to stay calm so you can shoot straight, right?”

The words sounded alien, even to him. His gaze was locked on the top of your shirt, looking down it to the slope of your chest, disappearing into your dress. He so wanted to let his hands disappear right along with them, to pull you back into his aching cock and play with your nipples until you cried out for mercy.

He let his touch fall and played off his molestation as correction, even as your underwear grew slick with desire.

“Grab your vest. Let's try again.”

A week of late night training later, and you weren't sure if you were improving at all. The guns were the last thing on your mind when Spencer's hands were on you, his voice in your ear telling you how good you were for him, such a good subordinate.

Both of you had yet to acknowledge that you were spending the majority of the session just rubbing up on each other, like teens at prom, desperate for whatever friction you could get without having to name the game you were playing.

“Doctor Reid, if I hit the target this time, can you do something for me?” You chanced on the Friday, needing something else to tide you over for the weekend.

“What do you need?”

“No, no, nothing specific, just like a…a reward?"

He'd done his best to keep his hands off of you, which meant that he'd failed miserably, and he knew exactly what he'd like to treat you to as a reward. Keeping his hands of you in daytime hours had become harder and harder as the week flew by, and he felt like a randy school boy the amount of times he'd needed to excuse himself to either kill his bones or abuse his cock with his hand.

“Oh,” he said, growing quiet. You took his hesitation for rejection, and immediately began to back pedal.

“Y-You don't have to, sir. It was really quite conceited on my part to demand a reward from y-”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“If you shoot six bullets that hit either the chest or the head, you'll get a reward.”

You smiled brightly at him, suddenly feeling very hopeful.

“But if you miss, you'll get the opposite.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could even think about what they meant. Just hearing the words made him want to visibly cringe and write himself up for office misconduct. But your smile didn't fade one bit.

“Yes, sir. I won't let you down.”

Turning away from him, you loaded your weapon again, and he watched you put yourself into the correct position. Despite his middling efforts to actually teach you, you had seemed to have improved over the last few days.

He wasn't sure if he wanted that outcome.

Just as you stepped up to take your first shot, he stepped closer to you, wrapped his hands around your waist, and pushed up against you.

Your first shot veered left, completely missing the target as you gasped. Spencer had popped open the front button of your pants and was unzipping them, letting his hand wonder down to your panties.

“Look straight. There will be distractions out in the field, you can do this, right?”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

You tried to steady your breathing g and your hands again as he began rubbing slow circles into your underwear, your body alight with lust as you let him.

Your second shot hit the paper. Your third didn't.

“You can do better than that, Y/N.”

You took another deep breath and picked up your gun again, shooting just as he shoved your underwear to one side and dipped his fingers into you.

Your mouth opened in a silent moan as you quickly shot your last three bullets, not caring where they went so much as where his fingers went.

“Y/N, I expected better,” you could hear the smile in his voice as he took the gun from your hands with his spare. “You can't even handle a weapon like this.”

He kept his fingers pumping shallowly inside you, as he inspected the gun again.

“Maybe you'd learn better under duress. I did, too. It's easy to learn when there's a gun pointed yo your head, right?”

He quickly turned the gun on you pushing it to your temple as his other hand shoved your pants down. He angled you forward with a press of his hips as his fingers returned to your cunt and slipped deeper inside.

“S-Spencer, fuck-”

“You missed all six bullets, so punishment it is.” His fingers gained speed as you stood, flushed and spreading your legs for him. You wanted to bury your head in your arms and scream out your moans, but the gun to your head kept you quiet and in place.

“You may not be able to shoot a gun, Y/N, but that doesn't mean you're not enjoying them. You're so wet for me.”

Tears sprung to your eyes as you felt your climax build and build, chasing the high you'd been searching for with every unprotected touch.

You were letting your boss touch you, letting a man almost old enough to be your father hold a gun to your head, and you were going to squirt all over his fingers very soon.

“Spencer, Spencer, please- please….”

“Shhh, it’s okay. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You just needed some more help learning. You can cum now, princess. It's okay, let go.”

You tried your best to hold back, but your body had a mind of its own as your orgasm hit you, the cold metal of the gun finally moving away from your head.

With one hand around your waist, pinning you to the side so you stayed upright, Spencer carefully placed the gun back down before dragging your pants back up your legs.

Taking your elbow in his hand, he walked you to the door as you blinked out the daze in your eyes.

“We're going to my office now. To talk about your recent performance.”

You couldn't have cared less what he'd said as long as his hands were on you, stretching your head back so it rested on his chest and pushing up until your lips could connect with the bare skin at his neck.

“Hands off. We're going to walk all the way back to my office, and you're not going to let anyone know what just happened, okay? Not with your words, or your expressions or body language, okay?”

You nodded, but he kept a hand on your elbow, gesturing yourself forward.

You weren't sure how you were even able to walk after what had to have been the most intense orgasm of your life, but the promise of more likely carried you all the way up the stairs until you were comfortably enclosed in Spencer's office.

Like he'd found himself doing multiple times a day this month, Spencer closed the blinds, pulling you down to the sofa with him as he sat.

“When I was your age,” he started, making sure your ass was facing up as he pushed your head into the cushions gently.

“When I was your age, I couldn't shoot well. My Unit Chief had to kick some sense into me. I think you need that as well, right, Y/N? You need someone to beat some sense into you?”

You nodded as he stroked your hair, and he thanked you for being so open to him.

He made quick work of your pants and underwear, and in a quick hot burst, his hand came down on your ass.

“Fuck, more. Please more!”

He did it again and again as you squirmed in his lap and moaned, begging him to keep brutalizing you.

“That's it, show me how pathetic you are, show me how much you're craving my attention.”

He pushed your legs off of his lap until you were kneeling on the floor underneath him. He pulled up your arms and pulled your shirt over your head, similarly discarding your tank top and bra until you were totally bare on the floor in front of him.

Instead of stripping himself yet, he pulled out his phone, palming himself through his pants.

“Show yourself off,” he said, pointing the camera at you.

You followed his directions quickly, hands flying to your tits to fondle them while he took pictures of your fucked our face.

With his foot he gently nudged you down onto all yours, letting you know to turn around so he could flash a picture or two of your sloppy cunt as well.

Your hips rocked back and forth in the air, unconsciously searching for something to rub against, some relief from your frustrations.

He kept snapping pictures.

Deciding that you needed his attention and stat, you let your chest fall to the floor, face flat too as your hips lifted higher in the air. Your hands found your ass cheeks, and you spread them slightly, giving Spencer an even better view of how much you needed him.

He took one last photo, and then he knelt behind you faster than you could expect.

In a heartbeat, his pants were down, in two his cock was buried deep inside of you.

“So…tight, shit. You're such a precious little slut, you kept this little pussy nice and fresh just for me, right?”

It was all you could do not to cum right there, and when he started moving you were a goner. It had always been easier for you to cum a second time than it was for you to cum a first time, and considering how quick he'd made it happen earlier, you really should've been expecting it.

Your body convulsed around his cock as you screamed into the floor, hands still spreading yourself wide for him as he rutted into you.

“That's it, milk my cock, Y/N. Milk your bosses cock, let me blow my load inside you.”

Your nipples rubbed painfully against the carpet, only adding to the storm of stimulation you were experiencing.

His hips faltered as he collapsed over your body, holding tight as his muscles locked him into place with his orgasm. He came inside you with a grunt, and he felt your cunt still clenching around him, making sure to take every last drop.

“That- was much - preferable,” you said, gasping for breath. “To shooting - any gun.”

He rolled off of you as you laughed, body satiated now for the first time in what felt like forever.

“You still need to work on your gun skills,” he said after you'd detangled yourself, but before either if you had worked up the courage to leave the floor and get dressed.

“Why?” You said, turning your head to look at him lying on the floor next to you.

“It seems I can fire pretty accurately already,” you said, as your hand snaked down to his cock one more time.

#cmkinkbingo2024 #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

2K notes · View notes

missqhughes · 2 months ago

Text

ON THE RECORD | Q. HUGHES43

-> quinn hughes x fem!reader

-> contains: dom!quinn, unprotected pnv, m!oral receiving filming sex, physical fighting, bruises and blood, sexual acts and themes, exgf!reader x vince dunn

-> IN WHICH: it’s the first canucks vs. krakens game of the season; and for quinn, this time it’s personal. when y/n’s ex has some words to say about their relationship, he shows both of them exactly who she belongs to.

-> locked in to this fic so hard bc i haven’t written in forever, so i finished writing it in the shower BUT NOT LIKE THAT I PROMISE. also there’s 100% discrepancies in real game play vs in this but please bare with me for the plot. (hope you love it as much as i do!)

*fic is not proofread

18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT

y/n was never nervous for a game.

but nothing could take away the ache she had leading up to this one.

it had been a while since her and quinn started dating, and he had it out for her ex since she told him all the horrible things he did to her; cheating, lying, hooking up with multiple women during the season, making a fool out of her publicly. however, she begged quinn not to start something; let bygones be bygones and leave it be, arguing how she left it all behind her. he agreed, knowing he didn’t want any bad press on himself; as captain and as someone the media knew wasn’t a fighter in the league.

y/n sat with her friend in the suite , fiddling with the sleeves of quinn’s jersey, eyes following where he was skating; he looked calm, focused, attentive to warm ups.

“dude, you need to calm down,” her friend laughed, noticing her obvious stress, “nothing is going to happen between them, i promise.”

y/n looked at her friend, “i know, i know. it’s just… quinn hates him. i know vince, and i know he can’t help himself from a fight. i’m just worried.”

“think quinn can’t handle himself?”

“no i know he can, i don’t want him risking getting hurt over something as stupid as a fight,” she retorted, gaze still fixed on the ice, “especially with vince.”

“i think you’re being dramatic,” her friend chuckled, taking a sip of her cold beer, “it’s just another game, no big deal.”

y/n sighed, shoulders relaxing a bit, allowing her friend’s reassurance to ease the tension in her body, “yeah, you’re right. just another game,” she said, cheering her cup with hers.

——————————————————————————

CANUCKS 3 - KRAKEN 2 / 3RD PERIOD

quinn was good at keeping his cool.

he had to, after all.

he ignored the glares from vince, his attempt at intimidation lingering through the entire game.

they didn’t come close in contact, until during a time out, quinn heard a voice call out at him,

“y/n here tonight? bet she came just for me,” vince chirped, a sinister, smug look on his face as he skated past him.

quinn stayed stone faced.

further into the final period of the game, he felt a body slam into his, nearly losing his balance and almost falling into the boards,

the whistle blew, and quinn was met yet again with vince’s hubristic stance,

“saw you’re with her now, how’s that goin for you? bet i come up a lot,”

vince spat, quinn skating closer to him, his temper beginning to spark in his body,

“get over it bud. she’s done with you.” quinn said calmly, the other players around the ice not aware of the situation brewing beside them.

“look hughes, you’re not special,”

with each word, the kraken gets closer and closer to quinn, puffing his chest and spewing hate, the hands in his gloves in the beginning of curling into fists,

“it was just you to get over me,”

quinn’s jaw tightened,

vince laughed bitterly, “she’s a slut, you tonight someone else tom-”

vince couldn’t even finish his sentence before quinn shoved him hard, both their gloves dropped as they fought, quinn bringing him down to the ice, delivering blow after blow to his face.

it all happened so fast, y/n heard the pounding on the glass, cheering on a fight, and feeling her stomach twist when she saw 43.

oh god.

none of the refs were able to get quinn off of him alone, his fists not stopping until they were bruised and bloody, matching the wounds on vince’s face.

quinn was panting with anger, face tinted crimson, a light bruise forming on his cheekbone where vince had landed a punch. he couldn’t feel the near splits in his knuckle, too riled with adrenaline to feel anything but rage.

——————————————————————————

fortunately enough, the canucks ended the game with a win, but that didn’t change how fired up y/n knew quinn was going to be when she saw him.

she was allowed to be in the locker room during post game interviews, and she watched nervously as interviewers swarmed and crowded quinn, bombarding him with questions.

he was asked about the fight, detail, if vince had said anything to set him off, the why as a captain, he would start something on the ice.

quinn’s expression remained nothing short of blank, refusing to answer any questions regarding it, pursing his lower lip, “nothing to say about that. keep it about hockey and that’s it.”

after post game reports had finished, y/n waited outside by the doors for quinn to come out.

she didn’t know how he was going to be when he came out, pacing with worry about what the media would twist this game in to.

y/n heard the heavy doors click open, quinn in a lazy rendition of his suit, walking over to her; the bruise on his cheek deeper in color than when she initially saw.

“hey baby,” she said softly, opening her arms for quinn to embrace without hesitation.

“hey,” he replied, tightening their hug before pulling away, “cmon, we need to go home.”

quinn didn’t give y/n a chance to respond when he hooked his hand into hers, leading her to his dark tinted car in the lot.

y/n slid into the passenger seat while quinn loaded his gear into the trunk, she looked out the window until the driver’s side door clicked shut.

she looked over at quinn, an unreadable look on his face; he said nothing, instead putting the car in drive to go back to their shared apartment.

the drive home was silent.

the only sound being the hum of the car engine and their steady breaths. quinn always had his hand on her leg when he drove, but this time his hand was a little higher, his grip a little tighter, all whilst he kept his gaze fixed on the road. y/n’s breath would hitch ever so slightly when his fingers kneaded into her skin.

——————————————————————————

quinn was still quiet even after getting home.

frustrated, y/n spoke out, “quinn, what did vince say to you?” she said with a sigh,

“shit about me. about you. us.” he mumbled, taking off his suit jacket and undoing the black tie he had on.

“so, that’s reason enough to give me the silent treatment all the way home? you’re acting like that was my fault,”

“i never said it was your fault.”

“you don’t have to! it doesn’t take a lot to know you’re upset,” she retorted,

“y/n,” quinn started, walking over to where she was standing, holding her by the neck when he kissed her roughly, biting her lip when she moaned lightly into his mouth.

he tapped the back y/n’s of legs, and she jumped hooking her legs around his waist without objection.

quinn waltzed them to the bedroom, their kiss nowhere close to cooling off. quinn lightly tossed her on the bed, lips peeling off hers to suck and bite on the exposed skin of her neck.

y/n groaned lightly, beginning to unbutton his collared shirt, when quinn pulled off of her, leaving y/n with furrowed brows.

“quinn, what’s wrong?” she said, propping herself up on her arms, looking up at her boyfriend, confused.

“wait here baby,” he said, leaving the room.

she nodded, and about 15 seconds had passed when quinn returned to the room, his phone in hand with the camera app already opened.

“you want to make a movie huh?” she said, beginning to peel off the jersey that housed quinn’s name.

“only for our number one fan. leave the jersey on,” he said, “but everything else, off. now.”

y/n nodded, slipping down her pants and thong, her pussy already aching with the desire quinn had filled in her.

quinn swiftly undid his belt with one hand, lowering his pants and boxers to leave his hard length exposed.

“c’mere, suck.”

y/n obliged, moving down to her knees to meet quinn at hip length, the phone flash shining brightly in her face when she took the tip of his dick and swirled it around her tongue.

quinn groaned, moving his free hand to pull y/n’s hair into a ponytail with his fist. his breath quickened, y/n taking all of him in, bobbing up and down; quinn’s hips matching her rhythm.

he had almost forgot he was recording her, but when her lashes fluttered up to perfectly view the camera whilst she sucked him, quinn knew he was close to cumming.

quinn groaned louder, fucking y/n’s face, her moans sending vibrations on his dick that pushed him to his release. he pulled out of her mouth right when he was about to cum, y/n sticking her tongue out to collect his release.

god he was loving this.

he stopped the video as she wiped the leftover release from her face, pulling her up for a sloppy hot kiss.

quinn pulled away, the two panting with puffy lips, ��bed, ass up, baby. now.” he instructed, reopening his phone for the perfect view.

“yes captain,” y/n said, just ready for whatever quinn had in store for her, her wetness beginning to seep down and stick to her inner thighs, burning for him to touch her.

after hitting record, quinn wasted no time aligning himself with her, pumping in and out a few times before going fully in, his hips meeting her ass, eliciting moans from the two of them.

his pace was rapid and brutal, moving her hair away from her and back into his hands, revealing to the camera the “hughes” jersey she was wearing.

“fuck, quinn! mm, so good— my god, fuck,” y/n moaned, echoing with the sound of their skin slapping against one another, her noises music to quinn’s ears.

he continued to pound hard into her, y/n’s knuckles white from how hard she gripped into the sheets, feeling her stomach tighten, about to reach her high.

quinn felt her pussy tighten around him, knowing she was close, “gonna cum baby? go ahead, cum,” he husked, coming to his second of the night.

she screamed in pleasure, her cunt coating his dick, mixing with his as he filled her up with his release.

quinn pulled out of her slowly, giving time to show the camera a view of her dripping puffy pussy, ending the video with a hard smack on her ass.

y/n yelped, falling into the bed. quinn turned her around, gently kissing her in her dazed state.

“you okay baby?” he asked gently, caressing her face with his thumb,

“mhm, but i think you killed me. i’m exhausted,” she laughed, quinn smiling and bringing his lips down to peck hers, “sorry, want me to go start a shower for us?”

“you know me so well,”

quinn crawled off of her, grabbing his phone before slipping into the bathroom,

he opened instagram, typing in vince’s username into the search bar, itching as he opened their messages tab.

——————————————————————————

xoxo, kaia

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x reader #qh43 #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #nhl fic #hughes brothers #quinn hughes imagine #nhl imagine #nhl #hockey

740 notes · View notes

wonderjanga · 1 month ago

Text

Marvel is Kryptonian

This takes place when both of them are first starting out. Clark started first. Then, the bubble popped. Now, since this is early in Supes’ career, that means, sure, there are other heroes around, but none else in Metropolis. So, when he heard of a hero that recently popped up who was suspected by the media to be related to him, he grew curious. He was even more curious when he found out the guy had similar powers to him, not to mention they looked alike. So, when he’s at work, writing a paper, imagine his surprise when he sees many people crowding around one of the tvs in the lounge. Lo and behold Captain Marvel, the guy he’s been hearing about is on live, fighting a giant monster somewhere in Kansas— wait a darn minute, he’s right next to Smallville. Looks like this is a job for Superman.

When Supes gets there, the monster goes down with one final punch from the Captain. When Clark saw the man floating, wearing a warm smile with his cape billowing in the wind, he was struck with the idea that maybe, just maybe they could be related after all.

Marvel: *notices Supes and gives a little wave, torn between wondering if Clark is another hero, or a dude who just happens to be wearing spandex*

Superman: *Flies up to him* “Hey.” *awkward*

Marvel: “Hey?” *also awkward*

*awkward silence of two super powered dudes floating mid-air*

Superman: “Right! Uh- Kal-El.” *offers handshake*

Marvel: *wondering what a “Kal-El” is* “I’m Captain Marvel? Or Marvel? Or Cap? You can call me whatever.” *shakes hand*

Superman: *little disappointed Marvel didn’t respond with his own Kryptonian name. Then says some form of greeting in Kryptonian*

Marvel: *confused at the sudden gibberish from the other man until Solomon translated it for him. Responds back also in Kryptonian*

Superman: *face lights up brighter than the sun*

They got burgers after that. They became super good friends after that too! I mean, sure, Clark’s new friend hasn’t really told him anything about himself yet, but that was fine! Marvel’s super nice, and he’s always willing to help the Kryptonian if Clark needs it. I mean for Rao’s sake, when he got mind controlled for the first time, the Captain was the one who held him off. Then when all was set and done he took Clark to get ice cream. (Buddy doesn’t know he’s boarding the Dad Marvel bus)

The media’s picked up on their new friendship too. There are more and then a couple videos of Marvel’s 8 foot 5 self, picking up a 6 foot maybe 4 inch Superman like he’s a toddler. People think they’re brothers, or at least cousins.

Speaking of cousins, we can’t forget about Kara. When Kal said that there was another Kryptonian, she was skeptical, but then she met Marvel. She was excited when she learned he could speak Kryptonian. She also found it awesome he spoke like an old man. The man also had no problem in learning any new traditions from her. And, he also had no problem in teaching her ancient traditions that she had no clue how he knew. The man looked at to be in his mid thirties at most. (He has knowledge of really really really old Kryptonian traditions and history because a long, long time ago a previous Champion got married to a Kryptonian woman and visited the planet whenever they could. Though, it wasn’t often due to their champion duties.) He also gets her to bake with him while he told her stories about old wars and conflicts she hadn’t even heard of. Not only did she get to teach more of their culture to Clark, she got to learn more about it from Cap. (Is also unknowingly boarding the Marvel Dad bus)

Also, Ma and Pa Kent love him and he helps around the farm as much as they allow him.

#billy batson #captain marvel dc #dc captain marvel #shazam #fawcett #fawcett city #fawcett comics #kara zor el #kara danvers #clark kent #superman

476 notes · View notes

lushrve · 6 months ago

Text

hockeyteam!141 x figureskater!reader

cause who doesn't want the image of these boys all sweaty and bloody in hockey gear (also i haven't mastered writing in a scottish or manchester accent yet so don't come for me)

you’re a figure skater, something you’ve devoted your whole life since childhood to. over the years, you’ve honed your craft, becoming one of the best in your area. you do well enough at competitions; not olympic material, but skilled enough to bring home a state title every now and again. you take pride in the way your body glides across the ice, painting pretty pictures with each scrape of the blade of your skate. it’s methodical, structured, clean. if you close your eyes, you can almost pretend you’re dancing on clouds.

it’s a small town and there’s only one ice rink for miles, so of course you run into the local hockey team practicing and warming up for matches. you don’t know most of them (don’t care to, frankly), but some are more notorious than others.

the team captain and center, price, the tactical mind behind their victories. from the few games you’ve watched them play, you can tell that he calls the shots. you watch as he sits on the bench, watching his teammates rush back and forth across the ice. it’s like he sees beyond the game. sometimes, you see him close his eyes, like he’s seeing a play take shape in his head, before calling out to the others and making it happen. they always listen, his booming baritone too compelling to disregard. (that voice made you feel something too, but you didn’t want to admit it.)

then there was a defenseman, simon. you just knew him as “riley” by the last name emblazoned on the back of his jersey. but if you listened closely (and you did), his teammates called him ghost. it didn’t take you very long to find out why. ghost was a large man, all broad shoulders and hard lines. he preferred the silent approach to taking down an opponent, slamming them against the boards before they could even register the sound of his skates scraping the ice. he played dirty, your eyes often meeting his when the referee threw him in the penalty box. (he winked at you once as he cleaned some blood from his lip, fresh from a fight. you pretended not to notice.)

left wing belonged to johnny, a scottish man they called soap. he got his nickname from his assist record, always coming in to clean up what price or ghost or another teammate had fumbled to lead his team to victory. he was quick on his feet, but brutal. while ghost was the primary muscle, soap wasn’t afraid to get physical if someone was coming between him and a goal. soap was also mouthy, chirping in his thick accent across the ice to get in the other team’s head. half the things he said, you don’t understand. hell, the other team probably didn’t either. but the tone was what mattered. (he leaned over the plexiglass after a solid win, personally inviting you back to their next home game. you blushed crimson.)

right wing was kyle. by far the prettiest one on the team, you thought. he’d take his helmet off as he skated back to the bench, running a hand through his sweat-soaked curls. the sight of him was like a work of art, a canvas brutalized by the nature of an aggressive team sport. he wasn’t as quick to get physical as the others were, but the moment everyone dogpiled on the ice, he was right there in the fray, throwing punches that landed just as loud and hard as the rest of them. the way he moved on the ice almost reminds you of your routines, careful and choreographed. he knew exactly where he was going, and he always hit his marks. (you wondered if he always moved like that, wondered if he danced through life.)

ghost and soap approached you after a win, coming up into the stands after they’d stripped themselves of their gear. while soap looked a bit smaller after shedding the heavy padding, ghost didn’t. still a hulking wall of muscle. “oughta sit in the stands mo’ often, birdie,” soap chirped, a smug smile on his face as he leaned on his hockey stick. “y’r like a good luck charm fer us.” you blushed pretty, averting your eyes and missing the way the two men looked at each other. you’d do just nicely, they thought. ghost cleared his throat, your eyes snapping up to him like he’d commanded it. (he could’ve. you would’ve obeyed.) “when d’you skate again?” he asked, arms crossed over his expansive chest.

“y’ve seen us in our element. now we wanna see you in y’rs.”

#call of duty #cod #cod fic #reader insert #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price x reader #poly!141 (eventually)#hockeyteam!141 #figureskater!reader

725 notes · View notes

mercurygguk · 1 year ago

Text

head over skates · masterlist | jjk (m)

··· SUMMARY; in which jeon jungkook is the captain of the hockey team and one of the biggest fuckboys on campus. you hate his guts and he knows it – that's why he's more than determined to make the most of three weeks of project work.

you're convinced it's going to be the end of you.

MAIN MASTERLIST · # TAG · MOOD BOARDS · PLAYLIST

PAIRING; hockey player!jungkook x f. reader

GENRE; fwb au, childhood friends to enemies to lovers au, college au

FIC TYPE; drabble series

RATING; 18+

WARNINGS; swearing, bicker/banter, arguing, s*x jokes, smut/angst and fluff eventually, lots of tension and lots of frustration between these two jsjfksk

NOTE; chapters involving mature content are marked with (m)

a/n; hockey jk is finally here after MONTHS!! i hope you'll tag along on the ride of this series – enjoyyy <3

– part i ; introduction of project

– part ii ; unexpected text messages

– part iii ; iced americano with a hint of tension

– part iv ; i’ll never be jealous when it comes to you

– part v ; ...

– part vi ; ...

... more to come!

2K notes · View notes

ccaptain · 5 months ago

Text

' dehydration is uncalled for. i drank three whole Death after Noons, you know... liquids. not straight up water, but still a liquid. why am I dehydrated? this doesn't make any sense... '

#captain on board ━ (ic)#gathering intel ━ (dash)

16 notes · View notes

zegrasdrysdale · 7 months ago

Note

Can you write about Nico dating a really famous actress, she is in House of the Dragon and in Dune, and now she is doing the press tour for the movie so she hasn't seen Nico in a while so to surprise him she goes to the stadium series and is at the family skate with him holding hands and being cute the whole time, so Nico is asked about their relationship the press conference after the game and he answered the question being a proud boyfriend, please? I love your writing

[ press pause ] n. hischier

paring : Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary : after being away for a few months filming and doing press for her projects, (Y/N) surprises boyfriend Nico at family skate before the Stadium Series

warning(s) : one suggestive comment but other than that, cute and fluffy

author’s note : this request has been sitting in my drafts bc i wasn’t very proud of it but i decided to let it see the light of day bc i miss the stadium series. pls lmk what y’all think (the entire press conference is completely made up for the sake of the fic btw)

༺═──────────────═༻

She needed a vacation by the time her tour ended in New York City. It’s exhausting doing a multi-month press tour for a show that wasn’t coming out until the summer. She knows she’ll have to go on another one anyway while the season is airing on HBO.

The idea didn’t enter her mind until she saw a billboard on the highway going into New York. It advertises the two NHL Stadium Series games that are happening in a few days.

When the games were announced a few months ago, she was already booked on the press tour for season two of House of the Dragon. Nico wanted her to come to the game against the Flyers but she wasn’t sure if she’d be in the area to go.

Turns out, she is. Since she’s in the area, she decides to surprise her captain boyfriend at family skate.

Cat Toffoli worked closely with a designer to make some jackets for the wives and girlfriends of the players for the Stadium Series. She even made sure to make one with a “13” on it, just in case.

She’s happy that she gets to put the jacket to use since she’s surprising Nico at family skate. Pressing pause on her press tour to support her boyfriend in what’s one of the most important games of his life was the best idea she’s had in a while. It’s been a long time since she has laced up the skates Nico bought her when they first got together during the 2021-2022 season. Tonight seems a good time.

An Uber takes her from her shared apartment with Nico in Hoboken to MetLife Stadium in East Rutherford once she's in something that she can comfortably skate in, which ends up being leggings, a red shirt, and her jacket that Cat had made for her. She grabs one of Nico's beanies out of the endless pile in his closet just in case her head gets cold.

She gets more excited the closer she gets to the football field turned hockey rink. She shakes with excitement when the Uber pulls into the player parking lot.

Cars are parked all over the place. She recognizes most of the cars that are parked. The Devils get the ice tonight for practice and family skate.

With her jacket wrapped tight around her and a duffel bag holding her skates, she heads in the back entrance. She shows her ID to the security guard, who gives her special credentials so everyone knows she’s allowed there and is allowed onto the ice.

She’s already late so she could pull off this surprise. All of the players and their families are out on the ice. With quick feet, she makes her way onto the field. Her duffel bag slung over her shoulder as she rushes to the rink.

As soon as she reaches the bench, someone tells, “Nice of you to join us!” She sits down so she can change into her skates. Jack skates by with a smile on his face. “He’s been hoping that you’d show up.”

Her eyes scan the ice to find her boyfriend. She finally is able to spot him as he skates over to her. Jack skates off and Nico takes his spot.

When her laces are tied, she stands up and Nico helps her over the boards. “You’re here?” he asks as she gains her balance on her skates. “I thought you were traveling today.”

“Decided to press pause so I could be here for you,” she tells him. “Wanted to support my boyfriend after all the supporting you’ve done for me.” Nico flashes his dimpled smile at her.

She takes in his appearance. He’s in full gear with his red practice jersey since they did practice before the families came onto the ice. He has on his Devils beanie with the pompom on top of his head. The eye black he has on his cheeks looks good.

Nico takes her hand and loosely laces their fingers. “I’m glad you came,” he says. “It wouldn’t have been the same if you weren’t here.”

“Your dad and sister came though,” she replies as Nico begins to skate backwards. He pulls her along and she manages to keep her balance by holding his hands. “I’m sure it would’ve been okay if I wasn’t able to come.”

He pulls her closer to him so her chest is pressed against his gear on his chest. Nico’s hands rest on her waist to make sure she doesn’t fall. “You’re the most important person in my life, schatzi,” he tells her. “It wouldn’t have been the same. I promise”

She smiles up at him.

Out of the corner of her eye, he notices all the cameras on the two of them. She’s not even surprised. She’s one of the world’s most known actresses and he’s the captain of the Devils. Reporters are probably getting all the pictures they can get.

Nico doesn't let go of her hand. He makes sure their fingers are locked the entire time she's on the ice.

It's easy to forget the world around her when she skates with Nico. She's so focused on Nico and Nico is so focused on her that it feels like they're the only two people in the world despite multiple pairs of eyes being on them and a bunch of cameras trained on them.

There's only a few minutes left of family skate when Nico decides that it would be a good idea to spin his girlfriend. When she's on the toe pick of her skates, because Nico thought it would be smart to get her figure skating skates, he grabs her hand and spins her around.

"Nico!" she gasps as she spins right into his arms. He wraps his arms around her waist "You can't just do that without warning me. What if I fell?"

He laughs against her ear. "You know I'll always have you," he tells her. "You would think that you'd be able to skate on your own by now."

She shakes her head as Nico kisses the swell of her ear. The smile that forms on her lips is involuntary since she's trying to be mad at Nico. "I don't think you understand that I skate maybe three times a year," she sighs. "My job doesn't involve skating like yours does."

Nico smiles and she looks up at him. "Have I ever told you how good you look on skates?" he asks. "Because this look does it for me. Hope you know that."

With a gentle shove from her, Nico backs away but always makes sure to keep a hand on her so she doesn't fall.

"You are so lucky that I love you," she says to Nico as she carefully turns to face him.

He hums and playfully rolls his eyes before he slides his hands up to cup her cheeks. His fingers are freezing, but she quickly pushes that thought out of her head when Nico pulls her in for a soft kiss. She can't help but smile as she returns the kiss.

It's very rare for Nico to show this type of affection in public let alone at a Devils event. They're both very shy about their relationship when it comes to the public eye, but sometimes a moment overwhelms them and they can't help it.

Like this moment. Center ice on the Stadium Series rink.

She wraps her arms around his waist for a little extra security. The last thing she wants to do right now is fall on her butt. She can hear all the snaps of the cameras the longer their lips are connected.

Nico breaks the kiss and smiles at her. She reaches up and pokes his dimple, which gets a laugh out of Nico.

"Alright, Dimple Lover," he says with a smile. "Let's go. I feel gross and sweaty. I need to shower."

"As long as I can join you if you decide to shower at home."

"We're going home right now."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

From the moment Nico scored on Sam Ersson thirty seconds into the game, she's been on her feet. It set the pace for the rest of the game. The Devils scored two goals every period, and Nico himself scored two goals on the night.

East Rutherford is on fire in the stands. They're cheering. It gets even louder when Nico is being interviewed by Emily Kaplan on a live mic and he says, "Thanks for showing up. It was fucking amazing- sorry."

He has the cutest smile on his face and waves at the crowd around him. The smile she already had on her face grows impossibly bigger.

When Nico heads down the tunnel to get out of his gear, she heads down to stand outside the media room so she can catch Nico before he goes in and does his post-game comments.

She's liking pictures of her and Nico from yesterday on Instagram. She replies to some of her mentions on Twitter. She even posts one of the pictures of her and Nico from yesterday when they were on the ice at family skate. Almost immediately, it begins blowing up on every single social media platform like her posts usually do when she posts Nico.

Minutes after she posts the picture, Nico comes walking down the stairs that lead to the hallway. He's back in Sopranos outfit, sans the jacket. The white tank hugs his body and shows off his arms. The cut he has under his eye completes the look.

Nico spots her before he turns into the media room. He says that he'll be in the room in a second. Then he walks over to his girlfriend.

"Hi, handsome," she says with a smile on her face. "Nice goals. Oh, I like this outfit too."

He leans down and steals a kiss. "Those goals were for you, schatzi," he whispers to her as he tucks her hair behind her ear. "I had to show off for my girl."

She smiles up at him and he mirrors it.

"Nico, we need you in here," someone says. "Nate's ready to go."

Nico nods and looks into the room. "Want to come watch?" he asks. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind."

With a nod, the two of them head into the room.

The reporters buzz as Nico walks up to the table to sit with Nate and she makes her way to an empty seat among the reporters. The woman she sits next to has a moment of panic and realization of who she is as the press conference gets underway.

One of the reporters in the front row asks, "Nate, was that celly after your goal planned?"

Nate laughs and nods. "Yeah, actually," he replies. The reporters in the crowd laugh. "Chris and I sat down and planned out a couple of different cellys just in case either of us scored. I happened to be the one to score, twice."

"Speaking of two goals, Nico," another reporter begins to say. "How do you feel after those goals you scored? Effing amazing?"

Nico smiles. "Yeah, it felt good, without the addition of another word that shouldn't have been said on live television," he replies with a very light laugh. "No, it feels good to score two goals coming off the All Star break. Took some time off, skated and worked on what I needed to, and, uh, I'm ready to have a good second half of the season."

They make eye contact and she smiles at him. One of the reporters notices that Nico's smile has gotten softer. "So, your goals have nothing to do with the fact that your girlfriend was here all weekend?" a third reporter asks.

"The fact that she was able to take time out of her incredibly busy schedule to be here means a lot to me, yeah," Nico says. "Being able to score a couple goals was me telling her that I was happy she was here."

"So it doesn't bother you that her presence this weekend has made multiple headlines and occasionally overshadowed the game?"

Nico scans the crowd and finds the reporter that asked the question. "I have never once thought that her being here this weekend overshadowed the game," he replies. "I am more than happy to have her here. If she makes a view headlines then oh well. She's one of the world's most well known and talented actresses, and I am proud to be her boyfriend. If that means that some of the attention is off of me then okay."

She smiles and bites her bottom lip as she watches Nico while he and Nate finish up the press conference with questions about the game.

One of the things she's always been worried about was completely overshadowing Nico and his career with hers. Now that she knows that he's proud of her accomplishments.

As soon as Nico is done, he makes a beeline right for her. She opens her mouth to say something but Nico quickly cuts her off with his lips. She giggles into the kiss and wraps her arms around his neck.

Cameras click around them but she doesn't care. Neither does Nico if he meant what he said.

"Nico," she laughs as she breaks the kiss. "This is your day. Enough about me. Stop making me a headline by kissing me in front of the cameras."

He smiles. "I don't care," he tells her. "I'll kiss you in front of a million cameras."

She shakes her head and pushes his hair out of his face. "You are insane," she tells him.

"You love it."

"I do."

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

have a request ? check out the guidelines !

wanna be added to the taglist ? fill out this form !

taglist : @dasiysthings @ithinkimokeei @equallyshaw @dancerbailey3 @love4lando @stony1386 @mangoluver @prettyinsatiable @ivy-34 @bunbunbl0gs

#hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #hockey fluff #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #nhl fluff #nico hischier #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier fluff #zegrasdrysdale request

414 notes · View notes

starzioo · 9 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐓. 𝐈𝐂𝐘.

This is a AU Theo One-Shot! You’re a figure skater and he’s a hockey player. I mean come onnnn you’re telling me he wouldn’t play hockey in an AU?

NO WARNINGS JUST FLUFF! ^.^

As you and your friends enter the cold skating arena you see the hockey team. This wouldn't be a problem besides for the fact that the figure skating team had already scheduled the rink for today. You were the head of the figure skating team so naturally it was your duty to figure out why there was a ton of sweaty boys on the ice where your team was supposed to be practicing for the next comp. The boys still hadn't noticed your team coming inside. 'Oblivious as always' you think to yourself as you lace up your skates.

Once you were fit to be on the ice you entered the rink. "NOTT!" You yelled for the captain as the boys were all practicing drills. They were all yelling at each other rough housing while practicing, so regardless of your effort he still couldn't hear you. You skated closer. "NOTT!" One of the boys finally notice you and jabs Theo's arm to get him to turn around. You were fuming. Ofcourse, on the days leading up to the upcoming competition he would be the one to interrupt your scheduled practice. You and Theo didn't have the greatest of relationships. He would always make comments about how figure skating wasn't a real sport or invalidate your team. You couldn't stand him. Ohh and better yet whenever you two would rarely have the occasional interaction, he would every time, without fail, tease you enough to wear you would just have to walk away.

"Nott. What the hell do you think you're doing here?" You say nearly out raged as you skate up to him. "Why, what ever do you mean Y/n, and whatever happened to hello?" "You know exactly what I mean! Don't try to act so innocent. You knew that we were supposed to have the ice today!" You say crossing your arms looking up at the tall boy, brows furrowed. He towered over you, you weren't gonna lie here but Theo was practically eye candy. He was tall, broad shoulders, slim waist, his striking stormy eyes, and golden locks would be enough to make any girl fold. But not you. His personality and past actions to you and your team was enough to make you be repulsed by him. Or at least so you thought. "No we were scheduled to have the ice. Not like you would actually be doing anything useful on it." He slightly mumbled and snickered the last part. The rest of the hockey team shared laughs with eachother from the comment. "Check the schedule on the board dimwit! We are scheduled every sunday, wednesday, and friday, and guess what? It's friday." You say staring intently at the boy. He pauses. "Well coach told us we can take the ice whenever we please as long as we're practicing." He says shrugging. "I don't care what 'YoUr CoAch SaYs' we are scheduled to be here and I don't plan on leaving." You say with no intention of folding to wishes. His team 'oooo's at your remark. Theo looks around the rink then sighs. "We have an upcoming game-" "And we have an upcoming competition." You interrupt. He sighs, "How about we share the ice, but just for today. We'll take left and you guys can have the other half." His team erupts in groans and 'cmonn's. You consider his suggestion, "I'll have to discuss that." You say sighing.

You skate back to your team who are all waiting at the front of the arena. When they see you approaching they all start asking questions, 'are we gonna be able to practice today?' 'Are they gonna leave or what?' "So...Nott said that we can split the ice for today." The girls groan at the thought of sharing the arena with the sweaty boys. "They have an upcoming game and we have our competition...if you guys don't wanna practice today that's fine but that just means on sunday we're gonna have to be earlier and stay later." You say shrugging giving them their options. The girls chatter and formulate their thoughts together. The hockey team watches from the rink. "So?" You ask the girls. "We should just share the ice for today, none of us wanna stay late on sunday...I mean it's a school night. It's just not gonna fit." One of the girls speak up. "Mmok." You sigh. "Just lace up and get ready to run your routines okay? We'll try to make the best of the space we have." You say reassuring the girls, then skate back to Theo. "We'll share the ice for today.." They groan, you roll your eyes. "And Nott so help me, if I see one puck or player on our side of the arena it's not gonna be pretty." You say glaring up at Theo, he rolls his eyes. "Whatever you say Y/n...Pleasure doing business with you" He smirks extending his hand for you to shake it. "No thank you." You say turning around and skating back to the girls. You explain the conditions and what not. You lay out little orange cones down the middle of the arena to signify the 'border' between the two teams.

The girls ran their routines with limited space. As captain you were to make sure the girl's routines were as close to perfect as possible, all while trying to perfect yours. There was already enough stress not including the fact you had to share the arena. While most of the girls were taking a break, you decided to run your routine since you had more space. All of your routine was going smoothly, nearly perfect actually, until you failed to land your double axel. You would've landed it if it wasn't for the hockey puck that had slid underneath you skate. As the blade and the puck hit each other you fell to the ground. Flat on your ass. Your eyes shut and face scrunched from the sudden fall. You look for the reason you didn't land, your eyes lay on the hockey puck. You were furious. The girls had already rushed up to you to see if you were okay, they helped you up. The boys stood across the rink mouths agape preparing for the ass ripping you were about to give them. You grab the hockey puck and skate up to Theo who was already approaching you. "Nott what the fuck is this? I told you to no pucks on our side! Exactly for that reason!" You say gesturing towards where you fell. "Y/n, I'm sorry. It's not like we did it intentionally!" He tries to reason. "Keep it on your side." You say pressing the heavy puck into his chest, slightly pushing him back.

You skate back to outside the rink to catch a break and get some water. The rest of the girls stay on the ice glaring daggers at the boys while they resume practicing. The rest of the girls run through their routines again, you give them notes and help them perfect every small thing. The rest of practice went smoothly, the boys not daring to let a puck even get close to the cones. After about 2 hours the boys had all left the rink and went to the shower rooms or had just left entirely. You say goodbye to your team, giving them small hugs. You were then left alone on the ice.

Since your fall you decided you would stay late and run your routines until the janitors came. You cleared the cones and ran your routine from the top. Finally you were able to land your double axel without the worry of hockey pucks. Your routine included many tricks and techniques. You landed two more double axels after the first and after a couple more swift tricks your routine was done. As you finished you heard clapping coming from the front of the rink. You surprised, immediately all your attention was on the tall boy who was intently watching you. "Oh piss off Nott." You roll your eyes skating to your water. "What? I was being serious, ya know Y/n you might be changing my mind on if figure skating is a real sport." He teased leaning against the entrance of the rink. You scoff. "For starters it is. I would like to see you land those tricks." You take a sip of your water. "Oh really? I can't see how it could be that hard, all you're doing is twirling." He rolls his eyes. You set your water down and cross your arms. "Okay then, do it." You shrug. He gets on the ice and skates up to you. "Watch me." He says with his usual absolutely massive ego. You lean against the railing and gesture for him to go. He tries to imitate your routine and then tries to go for the double axel.

*BOOM*

He landed straight on his ass, just like you did, but twenty times harder. He groans laying flat on his back on the ice. You can't help but start laughing at the sight. Covering your mouth you lean forward absolutely consumed with laughter. "Oh shut it Y/n." He says sitting up. You continue laughing. "I'm really gonna need them to pull the camera footage of that." You say in between your fits of laughter. He's finally back on his feet. "I could've landed that if I really wanted to." He says acting nonchalant as he comes back to you. You raise an eye brow. "Oh really?" "Yup." He says shrugging. "God, and you say figure skating isn't a real sport?" "Well maybe my opinions might be in the route of changing..." He says lightly laughing. "As much as I would like to see you fall on your ass again, I need to run my routine a couple more times." You say folding your arms looking up at him. "Oh uhm, I actually wanted to apologize for earlier...with the whole, uh y'know..." He says scratching the back of his head. You sigh "It's whatever, not like I actually got injured or anything." You say looking anywhere but his eyes. "But what if?" He says softly, eyebrows slightly furrowed. His usual nonchalant teasing tone now completely washed away. His small remark made you pay your attention back to him, you tilt your head slightly. "I...uhm..." You say with a small voice. His icy eyes staring intently into yours. The tension is thick. The air between you going thin. "I don't know how I could've made it up to you if you got hurt...I just...I know we've had our differences, but I just wanna make things right." He says softly placing a reassuring hand on your arm, his thumb rubbing up and down gently. You glance down at his hand then back up at him. "Uhm...I...uh.." You say quietly. A dusty pink rising to your cheeks, maybe it was just from the cold atmosphere, or maybe not. You've never found yourself flustered around him before. Seeing this side of him was weird. He actually cared? Your mind was blank, you were unable to formulate any words.

You two stand in the middle of the rink. The lights from above shining down on you two. "I wanted to let you know I'm not some complete jerk I guess..." His eyes glancing all around your face. He towered over you, normally it wouldn't have mattered, but being in this position right now you felt completely vulnerable under his soft touch. You just looked up at him, your eyelashes fluttering. When you saw his eyes linger down to your lips your heart nearly stopped. As for when he began to slowly dip his head down to yours, you froze. His lips ghosted yours for a second. With his hand still lingering on your arm, he softly connected his lips with yours. His free hand gliding gently up to the side of your face. The second his soft lips touched yours, you immediately gave into the kiss. In an arena of cold ice, your body was anything but cold. Your hands snaked up to either side of his neck and face. His lips were like plush, tenderly moving against yours. He pulls away resting his forehead against yours. Your eyes flutter open. His eyes fixated on yours. Your chest rising up and down with every flustered breath you take.

"HEY LOVE BIRDS WE'RE CLOSED!"

Almost in an instant you both rip away from each other to see the janitor standing at the entrance of the arena donut in hand. "Oh uhm!" You say completely embarrassed, your fingertips cover your lips. You and Theo both stand there just staring at him. "Well cmon, I gotta get to cleaning." The janitor says rushing you guys to get going. You both skate to the entrance not saying a word. You quickly change out of your skates and pack your bag. Theo doing the same. You both walk to the exit together still no words being said. "Well, uhm, goodnight Theo." You say trying to exit the building as fast as possible still completely unbelieving what just happened. As you try to walk away Theo's warm hand grasps your wrist pulling you back close to him. "Y/n...just...I've been wanting to do that for so long, please just give me one chance, one chance to show you I'm not who you think I am." He says tenderly looking down at you. "Okay..." You say eyes connecting with his. "Dinner? Tomorrow at 7?" "Yeah.." A small smile grows on your face. "Okay, i'll text you okay?" "Okay, goodnight Theo.." you say softly. Stand on your tippy toes planting a gentle but sweet kiss on his cheek.

=======

This is soooo cute rahhhh!

#hogwarts #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #fandom #fanfic #slytherin boys #x reader #slytherin #slytherin fanfiction #y/n #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theo nott headcanons #theo nott fic #theo nott x reader #theodore nott headcanons #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #AU oneshot

693 notes · View notes

avocad1s · 1 year ago

Text

About the Creator: Favoritism

Requested By: No one. Original Work.

CW: None?

Summary: Voiclines about your favoritism over certain characters.

Characters Included: Wanderer, Kazuha, Ei, Childe, Kamisato Ayato, Eula, Beidou

Note:

Wanderer: “I wonder time and time again why Their Grace favors me over anyone else despite all the bad things I’ve done. Perhaps they see some use in me that no one else has seen, or maybe they are waiting for me to drop my guard… why are you giving me that look Traveler… huh? You think I like being favored by the Creator? Well, who wouldn’t? They are the God of Gods and if they see usefulness in a pawn such as myself, then I will keep proving myself as worthy.”

Kazuha: I am forever grateful for my position with Their Grace. Even though I travel often, and they are constantly busy, we always make time to spend together. I like showing them the best views within Teyvat. I hope that one day they’ll agree to wander this beautiful world with me… ehem… I apologize, speaking about this with you has inspired me to write a new haiku about Their Grace.”

Ei: “You wish to know about my relationship with Their Grace? Well, they have been spending lots of time in Inazuma with me… they had promised to teach me how to cook. It hasn’t been successful yet, but I will keep trying just to see that smile on their face. I truly adore spending my time with them, I am learning how to be my own Archon rather than following in her footsteps… perhaps I have no reason to live in fear any longer.”

Childe: “Their Grace is the only God that is above Her Majesty. Despite what you think about the Fatui, we all still worship them comrade. Anytime Their Grace is in Snezhnaya, I always enjoy taking them ice fishing. I think the other Harbingers are a bit jealous of our closeness though. It doesn’t matter, as long as their eyes stay on me, then I’m happy.

Kamisato Ayato: “Hmm? My relationship with Their Grace is strictly professional… yes it is true that they spend lots of time at the Kamisato Estate but it because our discussions go late into the night and I wouldn’t dare send Their Grace away… huh? You wish to know what we discuss? Hehe… let’s change the subject, shall we..?”

Eula: “They are part of the very few who don’t judge me solely because of my clan. Their benevolence is like no other… hmm? What do you mean you saw the two of us at Good Hunter together? I was just showing them around Mondstadt, nothing else… Their Grace wishes to learn the Dance of Sacrifice… that’s the only reason we spend so much time together… why are you giving me that look? Hmph, vengeance will be mine!

Beidou: “Anytime Their Grace is on the Alcor we have an overwhelming amount of luck! We get so much treasure and never run into any storms in the middle of the ocean, I like to think of them as my good luck charm! The crew and I love having them on board, not to mention that they can hold their alcohol unlike anyone else I’ve met.. I wonder if they’re willing to be a permanent member on board… I’ll even make them co-captain if they desire.”

#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin cult #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #self aware genshin

1K notes · View notes

v6quewrlds · 1 month ago

Note

Can you write a fic about Mat getting into a fight on the ice because an opponent said something about you

❝ guilty conscience, m. barzal. ❞ ‎ ‎ ┉

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: experimenting with how much i like posting in 3rd person. literally wrote this in my 2 hr philosophy lecture this morning because fuck thomas hobbes. somehow i write all day for my major and minors, yet somehow i still find the will to write these fics lmao.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: a little angsty. established couple argument. language warnings i think. mat is very mat in this one. short and sweet <3

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: mathew barzal x fem!oc (malia).

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 3.6k.

Malia took a sip of her overpriced soda, the fizz tickling her nose as she surveyed the bustling arena. The smell of popcorn and the distant sound of skates slicing ice filled the air. It was her second time watching Mat play a home game for the New York Islanders, and she still felt like the new kid on the block. She wore her navy blue team jersey with "Barzal" emblazoned across the back, a gift from Mat for their two-month anniversary. She'd studied the rules and lingo, eager to fit in, but the pace of the sport still left her breathless.

Grace, the wife of the Islanders' captain Anders, leaned over and tapped her arm. "What do you think, so far?" she said with a knowing smile.

Malia smiled unconvincingly, trying to hide her nerves. Grace had been kind to her, but the other wives and girlfriends were a tougher nut to crack. They all had their own history, their own jokes, and Malia felt like she was trying to catch up on a TV show she'd started mid-season.

"Mat's really got his head in the game tonight," Malia said, hoping to steer the conversation away from her novice status. She watched as he zipped across the ice, stick handling the puck with ease, a blur of motion and concentration.

"Oh, absolutely," Grace agreed, her eyes glued to the action. "When he gets like that, it's like he's in a whole different world. They're all like that, really. Once they find their groove, it's like nothing else exists."

The game grew intense as the period neared its end. Malia felt the excitement of the crowd building like pressure in a pot. Mat's broke away down the ice, and Malia found herself leaning forward in her seat, heart racing. He was so fast, so graceful. It was easy to get lost in the flow of the game when he played. That's when it happened. The opponent, a burly player from the other team, had a smirk on his face as he checked Mat hard into the boards without warning. Malia's breath caught in her throat as Mat pushed himself back up, fists clenched. The smirk grew wider, and the other player opened his mouth to say something. Malia couldn't hear the words, but she saw Mat's face contort in anger.

Her eyes widened as she watched the scene unfold, a mix of horror and disbelief. The opponent had said something to set Mat off, something that made the usually disciplined player see red. Before she could even process what was happening, Mat had thrown his gloves to the ice and was throwing punches. The roar of the crowd grew to a crescendo as the two players grappled, their movements a violent shock. Malia's mind raced as she tried to understand why this was happening, why Mat was fighting.

It was all so raw, so primal.

Grace's grip on her arm tightened, her voice a low murmur. "It's okay, this is just part of the game."

But Malia felt anything but okay. Her heart pounded in her chest, a drumbeat of fear and confusion. The other wives and girlfriends around her remained stoic, but she could see the concern flickering in their eyes. They knew the drill, had probably seen this a hundred times before, but for Malia, it was a jolting reality check.

Mat's fury was a living, breathing entity on the ice, a stark contrast to the loud, carefree persona he was around her. It was a complete shock to the system for Malia. The sight was both terrifying and mesmerizing. She couldn't look away as players from both teams swarmed around them, trying to separate the combatants.

The referees eventually stepped in, breaking up the fight with a flurry of whistles and gestures. Mat was escorted to the penalty box, his teammates patting him on the back in a strange display of support. Malia's eyes remained glued to the ice, her mind racing with questions and fears she didn't know how to voice.

"You okay?" Alexa, Noah Dobson's girlfriend, leaned over, her eyes filled with empathy.

Malia nodded, her eyes not leaving Mat's figure in the penalty box. "I just... I didn't expect that."

Alexa chuckled softly. "Welcome to the league, hon. It's all part of the show."

Malia forced a smile, not sure if she was ready for this kind of drama. As the game resumed, she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd just seen a side of Mat she didn't know or particularly like either. The atmosphere in the arena had shifted, the electric tension of the fight still palpable. Despite the Islanders' lead, the air was thick with unspoken concern.

When the buzzer finally rang, signaling the end of the period, Malia's nerves had her jumping out of her skin. The players skated off the ice, and she took the opportunity to excuse herself to the bathroom, needing a moment to breathe. The cold air greeted her as a departure from the sticky anxiousness of the rink. As she stared into the mirror, she wondered if she was cut out for this life, if the love she had for Mat was enough to handle the darker, more intense moments of his career.

Malia returned to her seat, the game still in progress, and found that Mat had been benched. She watched as he paced back and forth behind the glass, his eyes scanning the stands until they drifted to the Jumbotron after being nudged by a few guys Malia had not met yet.

Malia's focus on her boyfriend was broken as a few of the other girls tapped her on the shoulder, her wide eyes blasted onto the Jumbotron. She forced a smile, her eyes darting away from her face in embarrassment as she realized that the arena cameramen had noticed her #13 jersey. He offered a weak smile as she turned back to him, his eyes still watching her on the screen. She could see the apology in his eyes. He knew she was still trying her best to wrap her head around the culture and rules of the game she was learning to love for his sake.

The final buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the match. The Islanders had won despite the scuffle, and Malia felt an odd mix of relief and dread as the players started to make their way off the ice. The group of them gathered their things, and she watched as Mat skated over to the bench to exchange a few words with the coach before disappearing into the locker room.

Grace gave her a reassuring pat on the back. "You'll get used to it," she said with a knowing smile. "It's part of the game. They get caught up in the moment."

Malia nodded, not entirely convinced. She knew that fights were a part of hockey, but seeing Mat so consumed by rage was unsettling, so unlike the boyfriend she knew. She sent Mat a short text, telling him she'd wait in the car for him instead of waiting with the others by the locker rooms. The coolness of the night air outside the arena brought air back into her lungs as she stepped into the parking lot. She leaned against the cold metal of the car, her heart still racing from the adrenaline rush of the fight.

When Mat emerged from the arena, his eyes searched the lot until they found her, his expression a completely devoid of any anger or self-awareness. He looked tired but victorious as he approached, his dark, fluffy hair beginning to dry from his shower. He opened the passenger door with his trademark crooked grin. "You didn't wait in the usual spot."

Malia looked at him, confusion evident on her face though she quickly pushed it aside. Maybe she was making too big a deal of it. "I just needed some air," she said, sliding into the car. "How are you feeling?"

Mat shrugged as he closed the door. "Fine. Why?" His tone was light, almost casual as he slid into the driver's seat. It was as if the fight had never happened. He threw his bag into the back and started the car, the engine rumbling to life.

"You know, the fight," Malia said, trying to keep her voice even. "You guys were really going at it."

Mat's eyes darted to her, then back to the road. "Oh, that. Just part of the game, babe. No big deal."

Malia's jaw tightened. "It looked pretty big to me." She couldn't ignore the fear that had gripped her during the fight.

Mat sighed, his eyes still on the road. "Look, it's just the heat of the moment. Sometimes things get intense out there."

Malia stared out the window, the city lights blurring together as they drove. "I guess," she muttered with a quiet sigh. She knew Mat was trying to downplay it, but she couldn't shake the image of his furious expression.

Mat's hand reached over and gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. "You okay?"

Malia took a deep breath and shifted in her seat, his calloused hand falling away from her skin. "Yeah, just tired I guess. Long day."

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the full truth either. The fight had left her emotionally drained. She'd seen Mat get competitive, sure, but never violent. It was a side of him she didn't know how to reconcile with the man who made her laugh and supported her studies so wholeheartedly.

The silence in the car grew thick as they approached Mat's apartment. Malia felt a knot in her stomach tighten. This wasn't the same playful tension they usually shared; it was heavier, denser, and less fun. When they pulled into the parking lot, Mat turned to her, his jaw set with tension as if he was bracing for something.

"What's up with you?" he asked, his voice a mix of annoyance and genuine concern.

Malia's eyes rolled before she turned to face him. "What's up with me? I don't know Mat, maybe I just didn't like seeing you like that." Her voice was a mix of anger and fear.

Mat looked at her with a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "Like what? It's just hockey. Shit like that happens all the time."

Malia's voice grew stronger as she turned to face him fully. "But you've never fought before, at least not since we've been together. What even was that?"

Mat's expression grew defensive. "It happened hours ago, Malia. Why are we even talking about this right now?"

Malia's eyes filled with frustration. "Because it's not just 'shit that happens' to me. That was you out there fighting for... what? Some kind of ego trip?" She knew she was being unfair, but she couldn't help the words from spilling out.

Mat's grip tightened on the steering wheel. "It's not like that, and you know it," he snapped. "It was a cheap hit..." He trailed off, his jaw clenching. Malia remained silent, holding back her growing anger as Mat pulled into a parking spot in the garage. They exited the car, stubbornness palpable in the air between them as they rode the elevator to his floor.

Once inside the apartment, Mat tossed his keys onto the counter and turned to her, his eyes flashing with irritation. "You're overreacting. It's part of the game."

Malia threw her purse onto the couch, her voice rising with frustration. "Maybe for you it is, but I've never seen you like that!" She felt a tremor of fear and anger at his dismissiveness. "What if you had gotten seriously hurt?"

Mat stared at her, his eyes darting over her features as he took a step closer. "That's not going to happen. I know what I'm doing out there."

Malia stepped back, her arms crossing defensively over her chest. "It's not just about you knowing what you're doing. It's about the fact that I don't want to see you like that. It scared me, Mat."

Mat groaned, running a hand through his damp hair. "But I didn't get hurt," he said, his voice still holding on to its edge. "Can we just drop it?"

Malia's eyes narrowed, looking for a hint of understanding. "No, we can't just drop it," she said firmly. "You're not the only one affected by what happens on the ice. You're my boyfriend, and when you're out there fighting like that, it's not just about the game." She turned on her heels, huffing as she stalked off to Mat's bedroom.

Mat followed her, his frustration evident in the heavy thud of his feet on the floor. "What do you want me to say, Malia?" he called after her. "It's not like I was planning on fighting."

Malia spun around in the doorway to the bedroom, her eyes flashing. "I want you to say that you get it. That you understand that I don't want to see you hurt or risking your health over some stupid shit, Mathew." He took a deep breath, his eyes closing as his temper flared again.

Malia turned her back to him, her hands shaking slightly as she unbuttoned her coat. "And for the record," she added, her voice trembling, "The only thing that actually matters to me is that you're okay."

"And I'm completely fine," Mat said, his voice tight as he stepped closer to her. "It's not like it's the first time I've thrown a punch, Malia. I'm not some fragile porcelain doll you have to worry about."

Malia whipped around, her own anger rising to match his. "I don't give a fuck about what you're used to, or what the sport expects from you!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the hallway. "I care about you, and what you do out there affects me! You were a different person out there, and I didn't like it!"

Mat stopped in his tracks, his face a mask of shock. Malia had never raised her voice at him. In fact, the first time they met, he constantly had to ask her to repeat herself with her voice so shy. The sight of her fuming with emotion was enough to make his eyebrows furrow. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his own anger in check.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice low and tight. "I'm out there playing the game I love, trying to win for my team, and for you to sit here and act like it's all about you and what you want..."

"Do you think? Ever?" Malia's voice cracked, the words cutting through the tension like a knife. She didn't mean for it to come out so loud, so harsh, but the fear and frustration had been building up inside her like a pressure cooker. She couldn't stand there any longer, listening to Mat belittle her feelings. She grabbed her bag and stormed out of the bedroom.

Mat followed her, his own anger bubbling to the surface. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, his voice rising to match hers.

"I'm not doing this with you. If you don't want to talk about it, fine, but don't act like I'm some kind of drama queen," Malia retorted, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and hurt. She couldn't believe that he was making it sound like her fear was unreasonable. Her hands shook as she bit back tears, her straightened hair falling out of place from the stress of the evening.

Mat's face softened a little, and he took a step closer to her. "Malia, come on. You're really gonna leave because of this?"

But Malia was already halfway to the door, her heart racing with the need to get out of the apartment. "I don't know," she said, her voice tight with emotion. "I just can't be here right now."

Mat sighed, hesitating to speak for a moment before he reached out to grab her arm. His grip was firm but not painful. "Don't go. I'm being a dick, I know, I'm sorry. Let's just talk this out."

Malia paused, her hand on the doorknob. She took a deep breath, the cold metal feeling solid and reassuring under her fingertips. She turned to face him, her eyes still shiny with unshed tears. "Mat, I'm not trying to control you. I just want you to understand that it's hard to watch someone you care about lose it like that."

Mat let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, okay," he said, his voice calmer. "I get it. It's just... he said something about you."

Malia froze. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice low and cold.

Mat sighed heavily, his grip on her arm loosening. "He made a joke, some dumbass, weird joke about you. It pissed me off, and I couldn't just ignore it 'cause he kept goin’." His eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of understanding.

Malia's heart skipped a beat. She had never thought that someone would say something so disrespectful about her, especially not to Mat's face. "What did he say?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Mat's eyes grew dark with anger. "It doesn't matter. It was just a stupid comment, but it hit a nerve."

Malia felt a twist in her stomach. She didn't know what was worse: the fact that Mat had gotten into a fight for her or that someone had talked about her in such a way. "Mat, you can't fight every battle for me," she said softly, turning to face him. "I'm not on the ice, those guys will say whatever they think is gonna rile you up. They don’t know me. I’m just some girl to them. It’s not worth it.”

Mat's expression grew serious as he stepped closer to her, his hand dropping from her arm to cradle her face instead. "You're not just some girl, Malia. You're everything to me. And when someone disrespects you like that..." His voice trailed off, the intensity of his emotions clear in his eyes. "I couldn't just let it go. That's the least I can do for you."

Malia's gaze searched his, the anger in her heart slowly giving way to the love she had for him. She knew he didn't mean to downplay her strength, but the thought of him fighting over her hurt more than she cared to admit. She leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand grounding her. "I love you," she whispered. "But I don't want you to get hurt because of me."

Mat's expression softened, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her cheek. "I love you too," he murmured. "And I'll do my best to keep my cool out there if that's what you want."

Malia took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the night's events start to lift. "Don't 'if you want' me Mathew Barzal, do it because it's the right thing to do," she said with a hint of a smile.

Mat chuckled, his own smile spreading across his face. "Okay, okay," he conceded, leaning in to kiss her forehead gently. "But you know how competitive I am."

Malia rolled her eyes but couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through her at his touch. "I know," she said, her voice softer. "Just remember that I'm not just some prize to be won or lost out there. I'm your girlfriend, and I chose you."

Mat nodded, his thumb still caressing her cheek. "I know," he murmured. "And I'm sorry that I made it seem like that. It won't happen again." He spoke decisively before bending down to connect their lips.

Malia leaned into the kiss, feeling some of the tension in her shoulders melt away. "I just want you to be safe," she said, her voice muffled against his lips.

Mat pulled back, his eyes searching hers. "I know," he murmured. "And I promise, I'll keep that in mind. I don't want to scare you."

Malia's eyes met his, the fear and anger slowly receding as she saw the sincerity in his gaze. She took another deep breath and nodded. "Okay."

Mat's arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a tight hug. She melted into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart against her chest. They stood there for a moment, the tension in the room slowly dissipating.

"I know this isn't easy for you," he murmured into her hair. "But you gotta trust me out there."

Malia leaned into his embrace, the smell of his post-game musk mixing with the faint scent of his cologne. It was a familiar scent, one that brought comfort amidst the chaos of her emotions. "I will," she said, her voice muffled by his shoulder.

They stood there for a few moments longer before they both pulled away. Mat smiled down at her, the tension in his face slowly receding. "Now that that's over, do I get a reward for the win tonight?" he asked playfully, his eyes lightening.

Malia couldn't help but roll her eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Maybe," she said, her voice teasing.

"Only maybe?" Malia heard the playful challenge in Mat's voice as she walked away from him. She glanced over her shoulder and gave him a look that was part glare, part smile.

"You're lucky you scored that winning goal." She brushed past her boyfriend with a swish of her hips, heading towards the bedroom. The bold 'Barzal' stuck out across her back, a symbol of her commitment to supporting him. Mat caught himself staring as Malia turned to him with a flourish of her hair.

"Are you coming?" Malia called over her shoulder, her voice a mix of tease and challenge.

Mat's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he watched her retreating form, his playfulness momentarily forgotten. He hurried after her, trying to match her pace as they entered the bedroom.

"I'm about to be," he quipped, his voice filled with affection, drawing a “Gross!” and a giggle from Malia.

301 notes · View notes

sour-leminies · 4 months ago

Note

I LOVED THE SMILE HOOK FIC. So can we get more hook x fem reader. Maybe like reader is like Elsa so she has ice powers but is like scared of having friends? Sorry I explained it bad😭

Ice Cold

Paring: James Hook x Snow Princess Reader

Summary: As a girl, you loved the snow, ice skating, anything cold. However when you grew up — you learned the dangers of your power, and that snapped you out of control. Everyone had seen the incident, and they shunned you.

The cold hearted princess, they called you. Your heart had frozen over. No one could trust you — your own sister was afraid. So alone you became. All because of a mistake of a little girl.

Instead of choosing a side. Villain or hero. You had accepted your role in the shadow. You hadn’t expected for someone to shine the sun on you — thawing out that ice wall you’ve built. Especially not a pirate.

Warnings: Mentions of blood.

Taglist: @unhealthy-obessions @4ng3l-ch1ld @herondale-lightworm @astrynyx @snixx2088

Navigation — other works!

Sighing I placed my notebook onto the desk, my glove hands flipping to the next free page.

Merlin’s class had been relatively quiet, for once. There was no singing, no dancing, no fights. This was quite rare, and k had a feeling it wouldn’t last.

Writing my name on the page, I had started to write down all of Merlin’s notes on the board.

The door slammed open and a bunch of Vk’s came in noisy. I knew the silence wouldn’t last.

“Sorry we late teach!” Some kid said with a British accent. I didn’t bother to look up and just continued writing.

“Hades go sit by Maleficent. James you can sit by ms. Y/N.” Footsteps made their way in my direction and the chair beside me was pulled out.

Boots slammed onto the table. I slowly turned my head to him. He was leaning back in his chair one arm behind his head as if he was relaxing.

“Do you mind?” He looked over to me, “not at all lassie. And you can just rip a page out your notebook to write my notes on.” The audacity this man has.

“I’m not doing your work, now get your filthy feet off the table.” I shoved his legs, not really budging him, before making sure it didn’t dirty my gloves.

“Filthy? I bathe quite often thank you very much.” He finally set his feet down, and adjusted his position to the edge of his seat. “Who the hell are you?”

“None of your business, no use that good had of use, and write what’s on the board.” I kept my glare sharp as I gave him a spare pen and paper.

Before he could say anything else I focus back on the board and continued writing.

“We got off on the wrong foot.” Literally. “My name is Captain James Hook. You are?” I looked down to the hand he held out to shake.

No point in being rude, “Y/N, princess of Ariendelle.” I disregarded his hand. Just because I have the gloves on — doesn’t mean I should go acting recklessly.

The hand dropped, and thankfully Hook fell silent the rest of the class. I started to pack up my things, and Hook grabbed my attention when he immediately sat up and went to discuss something with the teacher.

Not your business Y/N. I quietly walked out the class, whatever few people in my way to my next one hurried out of it. Guess they didn’t want to risk getting involved with me.

❄︎

I walked into Merlin’s class expecting the seat next to me to be empty, considered how many other seats were available. However my assumption was wrong as a certain pirate sat with his feet on the table. Just like before.

“Ah Y/N let me talk to you for a second.” The few other people in the class looked to me as Merlin gesture for me to come over to him.

Doing as told I walked in front of his desk. “I really need you to tutor James Hook.” I immediately started to shake my head no. “Listen I don’t like him.” Not true, but I didn’t love him either. I was indifferent about the man — what I wasn’t indifferent about was tutoring someone that will give me attention.!

I liked my little spot in the back, tutoring probably the most popular guy in school sends a direct beam of light onto me.

"Please Y/N. This is the only way to get his grade up. Besides you owe me for giving you that extension." I released an annoyed sigh; great he's cashing in his 'IOU'.

Very well. I turned back around and took my seat, kicking hook's feet off the table in the process. "You're going to need to start bring supplies to school." Was the first command I listed off. I ripped out a paper and gave him a pen. "Now pay attention to the teacher then tell me what you don't understand after the lesson." That was the second command I listed off, and surprisingly he did as told.

❄︎

Over the course of the next three weeks Hook did everything I asked — and his increasing grade was the proof of it.

However tragedy then struck. Book decided to sit at my empty table for lunch — and bring his friends.

I went to walk to a different empty table, but he was quick to jump up and push me down on the bench. This is kidnapping, I’m positive.

“Y/N this is my friends.” I did a little wave, my face void of emotion but annoyance laced in my eyes.

“Hey! I’m Morgie — yk? Son of Morgana.” I gave a nod, I knew who all these people are. Perks of being popular? The whole school knows you.

“So Y/N,” the ‘leader’ of the group spoke. “Any interesting qualities we should know about?”

Oh just some ice powers that i sometimes can’t control and it can do some serious damage to others. And if you were to ask around I’m sure someone from my home land would blab.

“None that I think would interest you.” Uliana gave a small hum.

“I think having powers would interest me, especially if you’re getting involved with hook.”

“Me?” I looked around — ready to deny the claim that was 100% false. “I’m not getting involved with the pirate.”

James did a light gasp and dramatically put his hand over his heart. “I’m hurt darling. I thought we were closer than that your highness.”

So maybe me and Hook made a deal not to mention our backround to each other.

“Just how powerful are you?” The sea witch spoke up again. Causing me to stop the fighting between me and Hook. “That’s my business. Besides — it’s prohibited for me to use them.” I looked away from the eyes on me and over to the pink bubbly princess of hearts.

Everyone liked her, well besides the Vk’s. It was a shame — cause once she makes one mistake, gives once scare to the people there a high chance she’ll be turned away from everyone.

“What? And you follow those rules?” Morgie son of Morgana asked, as if I grown two heads. I smiled at the blonde boy sarcastically.

“When you get in trouble, in fights, break the rules, what does your mother do to you?”

He smiled oblivious. “I get ice cream.” I raised my brow waiting for him to piece things together. After a few seconds of him not getting it, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.

“Me breaking the rules isn’t worth getting on my parents nerves.” Something Maleficent I know would disagree with.

Her parents were quite like mine, hating her rebellious nature, but she loved the fact that she was a disgrace in her mother’s eye.

“Oh.” He said, now finally getting it. Once I tried to be the perfect daughter to get my parents love, but when that didn’t work I was mean and cruel to them. It didn’t change anything so now I just ignore them till I can’t. They do the same.

❄︎

I started to tie up my laces, ready to skate on the ice. The rink was closed by this late of night, but I had stolen the key and copied me an extra one.

The night crew don’t come until three more hours, leaving me with the perfect alone atmosphere.

Or it was.

A person sat next to me, causing me to look — thinking it was some kind of security. However the person that sat next to me was no other than James Hook.

“What the hell are you following me?” He opened his mouth to answer, but I cute him off with another question. “How the hell you even get in here? The doors are locked.” I looked around — trying to see if anyone else was here.

“Pirate.” Was his answer, as if it was an obvious one. “What are you doing here?” I know for a fact Hook doesn’t care about ice skating.

“Is this what you do in your spare time?” He asked, deflecting the question.

I rolled my eyes, and for a moment I could feel my hands starting to freeze up. I stood up, taking a few steps away from him before I grabbed my gloves on the seat next to me.

There’s a reason I skate alone and it’s cause the cold makes my power grow stronger and haywire.

“You’re shaking. Are you cold?” I shook my head no, but before I could say it he had already wrapped his coat around me.

“I don’t need this. The cold doesn’t bothe—“ I cut myself off based on the look he gave me. I felt myself release a shaky breath, trying to step away from him, making sure not to fall in these skates.

It didn’t matter though because every step back I took, he took a step forward. “You’re jumpy today.” He commented. “Yeah, you’re kinda in my zone.” It reply was immediate and my tone was snarky.

“What’s the matter?” For the first time in a long time it had actually felt like I had been seen. Not looked at, not glared at, but seen. Like he had actually seen me in this moment and not the facade I put on.

“It’s best you leave me alone Hook.” I slightly pushed his chest away, and when I went to pull my hand back he caught it in his. Keeping it pushed up against his chest.

“Why?” Because despite what people think I’m not a monster and I don’t want to see you get hurt.

“I don’t do friends.” That was true, it was best for everyone. It was best I be alone.

“I’m not looking to be your friend.” My hands started to shake, and I felt hurt. It had been a while since I’ve felt that. Someone not wanting to be my friend. Being hurt someone didn’t want to be around me.

“Ask me what I want.” I tried to pull my hand back once again, feeling my hands start to form mist. However he still didn’t let go.

“Ask me what I want.” He repeated. My breath hitched as my nerves spiked. “What do you want?”

“I want to be more than your friend.”

I shook my head, not wanting to believe what he said. He couldn’t want that, he shouldn’t.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

All I’ve ever wanted was someone I could lean on, but I learned at a very young age that the only pillar in my life is one made of ice.

“Go back to the dorms Hook.” I finally got my hand free and skated across the ice, away from him.

❄︎

You had expected Hook to leave you alone after you rejected him. However that just drove him more.

Since that night, any chance he has he’ll try to talk to you, give you gifts he definitely stole, and always flirt.

Flirting was second nature to the pirate, but that was nothing compared to the way he took it with you. It was quite known to the whole school, that you had Hook wrapped around your finger.

The more Hook got to know you, the more he vowed to do whatever to make you happy. He was falling, but he was desperate to drag you down with him.

❄︎

You had watched the ice rink, empty. Tonight you made no effort to get on the ice. Tonight you were alone, and you hated it.

Out of a moment of weakness you called Hook and asked him to come to you. He did so without question, and as fast as he could.

So you watched the Ice rink, with him, in silence. He hadn’t asked you what was wrong — he knew you need to be with someone, not interrogated by them.

“When I was a little girl my parents and sister had loved my magic.” It was the first thing said, and Hook let you get everything off your chest.

“One time this duke had came to our home. I had asked to leave me alone, but he kept prying and prying, making me uncomfortable.”

“Out of self defense or more really it was an accident, I had used my powers to move him away. It was an accident.” Your voice broke.

“He had turned to solid ice, there was no covering up what happened. The whole kingdom knew by the next morning. That very night my father and mother had called me a monster and took me to the magic rock trolls.”

“I was given gloves to help control my magic. It didn’t matter how good I was, or how much I tried to redeem myself. They looked at me like I was a murder, and I guess I was.”

“I’m a villain, Hook.” You finally looked at him, tears dropping down your face. “And villains don’t get happy endings. It’s the first thing you learn.”

He was quiet, and then you knew you screwed up — you scared away the one person who had not made you lonely.

You looked away from him and back to the ice. For a second you were to caught up in your thoughts to feel him remove your glove. But when the air hit you, you immediately panicked — trying to grab it back.

“Hook, give it to me.” You looked to him scared, scared for him.

He kept quiet as he slid his palm against yours, wrapping his fingers around your freezing one’s. Your hands were so cold and getting colder by the second.

You tired to remove your hand but he tightened his grip. You could give him frost bite and he would never remove himself from you.

“I already have a happy ending. Love.” You looked at him crazy. “Love? Love doesn’t exist.”

“Maybe I can teach you.” You went to pull your hand away once again but instead he pulled you to him, over the seats.

His lips shut yours up. His lips were so soft, and delicate. He kissed you with experience, but an emotion that felt similar to the one building in your chest. One that made you feel warm, a feeling that consumed you, that demanded James Hook.

He pulled away slightly, his lips still brushing against yours, and his breath fanning your face.

“You say villains can’t get happy endings, but you’re my happy ending. Let me share that with you.”

Maybe, just maybe you didn’t half to be alone. Because even if you said no, Hook would always be with you. If not in person that in that ice cold heart that is starting to melt.

Your hands warmed slightly, and Hook knew you were his endgame. You were his once upon a time. You were his — as much as he was yours.

—

A/N: this feels short, but I’m sorry I got to it so late! I hope you enjoyed it.

#decendents #decendents masterlist #hook decendents #decendents x reader #james hook #james hook x reader #james hook masterlist #hook x reader #hook #captain hook

323 notes · View notes