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soulofapatrick · 2 days ago

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The Fourth Wing Boys and their Reactions to you being Pregnant

Summary: Just what I think the boys' reactions would be

Words: 7.5K words

Warnings: some angst but mostly fluffy and cuteeee

Xaden Riorson, the man who has made a career of maintaining control in a world that crumbles around him, has never looked more vulnerable than in this moment. His eyes—those sharp, calculating eyes that see everything and give nothing away—widen as the words I just spoke settle between us. The smirk that usually dances on his lips, the one that makes him seem untouchable, vanishes as if it’s never been there at all. His expression, typically guarded and enigmatic, is now a map of raw emotion, impossible to ignore.

I watch him, unsure of whether I’ve just shattered the air between us or opened a door we aren’t ready to walk through. His hands, always confident and steady, grip my waist with a force that seems born of instinct, as if the weight of what I just told him threatens to pull him down. He inhales sharply, and in the way his breath catches in his throat, I can feel it—a tremor, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. The sound of it—soft, like a whisper of disbelief—breathes life into the moment, making it real, making it unavoidable.

His eyes dart to my stomach, that small curve, barely noticeable but unmistakably there. Then, without warning, they flick back to mine, as if trying to find some confirmation that this isn’t a cruel joke, some twisted play to see him unravel. His jaw tightens, his muscles go taut, and for the briefest of seconds, I think he might not believe me. But then he whispers, his voice low and edged with something I’m not ready to identify. “You’re sure?”

I nod, unable to contain the mix of fear, anticipation, and joy that floods through me, and that’s when everything shifts. The tension in his body cracks, splintering apart like ice breaking under the weight of an ocean. His breath, shallow and uneven, spills out in a rush, and his gaze—normally so calculating, so indifferent to everything around him—softens, transforming into something I’ve only seen glimpses of: vulnerability. There, in that look, I see the faintest flicker of hope, a light that barely dares to exist in the shadows of his usual guarded composure.

The silence that follows feels like an eternity, a moment stretched so thin it could shatter at any second. But instead, he moves. His hands, which had been trembling ever so slightly, find their place around me, pulling me close as if I’m the only thing holding him together. His lips brush against the side of my face, pressing against my temple in a gesture that feels oddly fragile for someone like him—someone who has built walls taller than any fortress, whose every breath is calculated, every action precise.

His voice, when it finally comes, is raw—thick with emotion I didn’t know he was capable of showing. “You have no idea how much I love you,” he murmurs, his words a promise. His hands slide down slowly, reverently, until one rests on my stomach. His thumb begins to trace circles, soft at first, like he’s afraid to touch too firmly, as if afraid he might shatter something precious. And maybe he’s right—because in this moment, something shifts inside him, and I’m not sure he’s ready to face it yet.

The man who once seemed so untouchable, so impenetrable, is unraveling in front of me, but not in a way that makes me want to run. Instead, I find myself holding him just as tightly, afraid that if I let go, he might slip away. He isn’t just holding me—he’s holding onto something else. Something bigger than both of us.

We stay like that for a long while, the world fading into the background. His hands, still tracing slow circles over my stomach, seem to speak volumes without words. Each pass of his thumb is a vow—a promise to protect, to fight for, to love the life growing inside me with the same fierce, unrelenting devotion he’s always given to me. Only now, there’s something new in his gaze—something deeper. The promise isn’t just to me anymore. It’s to the little one we’ve yet to meet, the one who has already captured his heart in a way I never could have expected.

We’re lying in bed, the early morning sunlight spilling through the window, painting Garrick’s bare shoulders in a soft, golden glow. The light dances across his skin, highlighting the muscles in his back as he sleeps, his breathing slow and steady, the rise and fall of his chest like a calming rhythm. His arm is draped lazily over my waist, holding me close but not tight, as if he’s still half-anchored to the world of dreams. The warmth of him presses against me, a comfort I never want to lose, but something stirs inside me—something I can’t ignore, something that needs to be said.

I shift slightly, the flutter of nerves in my chest making my heart race just a little faster than it should. His eyes crack open, barely more than a sliver, and he blinks up at me through the haze of sleep. His lips twitch into the softest of smiles, and I can’t help but feel a warmth spread through me, even as my own pulse quickens.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs, his voice husky from sleep, a teasing note in the words.

I swallow hard, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment, the gravity of the words I’m about to say. “I have something to tell you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, thick with nerves. I watch his expression shift as he processes my tone—sleep fading from his eyes as they focus on me, sharpening with concern, alertness creeping in. His brows furrow slightly, his grip on me tightening just enough that I can feel the change, the instinctive need to protect, to hold me steady.

The air between us thickens, and I take a steadying breath before finally letting the words escape. “I’m pregnant.”

For a long moment, there’s nothing—no sound, no movement. Just the steady beat of my own heart, pounding in my ears. His blue eyes lock onto mine, and I see the wheels turning in his mind, trying to make sense of what I’ve just said. It’s as if he’s searching for any sign that he’s misunderstood, trying to find some hint that this isn’t real. And then, slowly, so slowly that it feels like time itself holds its breath, a grin begins to spread across his face. It starts small, like disbelief, and then grows—grows until it’s nothing short of radiant, the kind of grin that could light up the world. It’s like the sun breaking through storm clouds, a warmth that fills the space between us, and I feel myself melt under it.

A quiet, breathless laugh escapes him, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, what he’s feeling. He sits up then, pulling me with him, his movements fluid, confident, like he’s always known he’d be here. His hands come up to cradle my face, and his thumbs gently trace over my cheekbones, each touch reverent, as though I am the most precious thing he’s ever held. His touch is tender, full of wonder. His gaze never leaves mine.

“We’re having a baby?” he whispers, voice hushed, awed, like the very idea of it is too beautiful to fully comprehend. His eyes search mine for any hint of doubt, any sign that this might not be true, but all I can do is nod. And when I do, he kisses me—deep, lingering, filled with everything he feels, overflowing with love and joy in a way that takes my breath away.

The kiss is everything—the kind of kiss that promises a future, the kind that says we’re in this together, no matter what. When he finally pulls away, his hands slide down to rest over my stomach, his touch slow and careful, like he’s handling something fragile, something sacred. His voice is thick with emotion as he murmurs, “I’m going to love them so much.”

I can feel the sincerity in his words, hear the depth of his commitment in every syllable. He presses his forehead to mine, the grin never fading, and I can feel his joy radiating off of him, filling me up. There’s no hesitation, no doubt in him, just a certainty that this moment, this new chapter of our lives, is exactly where we’re meant to be. He holds me close, his hands still resting gently on my stomach, as if he’s already thinking of all the ways he’ll love the little life growing inside me.

“I can’t believe this is real,” he murmurs, and the wonder in his voice makes my heart swell. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

And for the first time in a long time, I’m certain too. In his arms, with his heart beating against mine, I know that whatever comes next, we’ll face it together. And I know, deep down, that we’ll be the best parents we can be. Because this moment—this shared joy—is only the beginning.

Liam is in the middle of fixing his dagger, the rhythmic glide of the whetstone over the blade a comforting sound, familiar and steady. His brow is furrowed in concentration, lips slightly parted as he works, his fingers steady and sure. There’s a certain ease to his posture, though—a quiet confidence in the way he holds the dagger, in the way he moves. I watch him for a moment, the soft light from the window casting shadows over his strong features, and something stirs deep in my chest.

I know what I’m about to say will change everything. It will shift the balance of us, of this quiet, simple life we’ve built. It will disrupt the calm. And yet, in this moment, with his presence so solid and steady beside me, I’m not sure if I’m ready for the words to leave my lips.

“Liam,” I say softly, my voice steady despite the whirlwind inside me. My heart is racing, a thudding pulse in my ears, but I push through it. He hums in acknowledgment, his eyes still focused on the blade in front of him. But when I don’t continue, when the silence stretches between us too long, he finally stills. His sharp green eyes flick to mine, reading me in an instant. And in that moment, I feel like he’s already seen it all—the hesitation, the fear, the joy that fights its way to the surface.

The dagger is forgotten, carefully set down on the table beside him, and he stands in one smooth motion, crossing the distance between us in two quick strides. The energy between us shifts, and his hands frame my face, warm and steady, his breath unsteady as he studies me. I can see the question in his eyes, and I know he’s waiting for me to speak again.

“What is it?” he asks, his voice low, steady. But I can hear the uncertainty beneath it—the flicker of confusion, of concern, because he knows something is coming, something big.

I exhale slowly, trying to steady myself, gripping the edge of the table as though it’s the only thing keeping me grounded in this moment. I whisper the words, barely above a breath, but I feel them settle between us like a charge in the air. “I’m pregnant.”

The words hang there, heavy, charged, electric. I watch as his body locks up, the shock rippling through him, a brief stillness in the air before everything changes. He blinks once, then twice, his lips parting slightly, as if he’s trying to find the right response but no words come. The seconds stretch out, thick and heavy, as though we’re suspended in time, before he inhales sharply, his chest rising and falling with an effort that betrays his calm.

Without another word, he steps closer, closing the gap between us. His hands are on me in an instant, cupping my face with a tenderness that makes my heart catch. He’s searching my eyes, his expression intense, as though he’s trying to read me, to make sure this is real. “Say it again,” he murmurs, his voice thick, as if the words themselves are something he needs to hear once more to believe.

I don’t hesitate this time. I say it again, the words rolling off my tongue with a clarity I didn’t know I had in me. “I’m pregnant.”

His chest rises again, this time in a sharp inhale, and his fingers tighten around me as if to pull me even closer, as if he never wants to let go. The moment feels suspended, timeless, and then suddenly—he laughs. It’s a quiet, disbelieving sound, almost as though he can’t quite wrap his mind around it, and the laugh shifts into something softer, something deeper. Something filled with wonder.

He presses his forehead to mine, the weight of his hands on my face grounding me, and then slowly, reverently, his hands slip down to rest over my stomach. His touch is warm, careful, as though he’s holding something delicate, something precious. The moment stretches between us, full of a new, tender energy, and I know without a doubt that everything has changed.

“You have no idea how much I love you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, raw and genuine, like he’s trying to find the words to hold all of it—this moment, this future, this life we’re about to create together.

And then, without another word, he kisses me. It’s slow, deep, and everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s a kiss that speaks of promises, of futures and dreams, of everything we’ve built and everything we will. I can feel the weight of it, the depth of it, and as he pulls me close, as his hands rest gently on the life growing inside me, I know that this moment is the beginning of everything. Everything has changed. And somehow, it feels like it always was meant to.

Bodhi is pacing, his boots scuffing against the cold stone floor with every angry step. The rhythm of his movement is frantic, almost like he's trying to outrun the frustration boiling inside him. His hands are thrown up in exasperation, his voice sharp with bitterness. “Of course, Xaden gets the good shit. Again. Powers? Sure. Now Violet... First in line for the throne? Why the hell not?” His voice cracks with sarcasm, the words biting through the air like daggers. “They both get the good fucking shit.”

I watch him, my heart beating wildly in my chest. It’s not the anger that rattles me; I’ve seen him like this before. But the weight of it all—the frustration that pours out of him—makes my stomach twist with something deeper. It’s all too familiar, this endless cycle of feeling overlooked, dismissed. His voice is thick with old grievances, with wounds that never quite heal, and I know well enough to recognize when he’s spiraling.

He’s about to explode, and I can’t let him. Not this time. If I don’t stop him, I know he’s going to hurt himself in more ways than one. So I step forward, my footsteps silent but determined, and before he can throw his next bitter word into the air, I grab his wrist, holding it firmly but gently.

“Bodhi.”

My voice cuts through his storm of frustration like a calm in the eye of the hurricane, sharp and steady. He freezes mid-step, his body tensing as my name slides past my lips. His hazel eyes, blazing with unresolved anger, snap to mine, and for a moment, everything else falls away.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself, feeling the weight of the words that have been resting on the edge of my tongue for what feels like an eternity. "I’m pregnant."

The shift is immediate, like the world tilts on its axis. His body locks up, rigid and uncertain, and his expression flickers through anger, confusion, and something else—something raw, vulnerable, and unguarded. His lips part, but no sound escapes. For a long moment, he just stands there, staring at me like I’ve just ripped the ground out from under him, like he’s trying to process what I’ve just dropped into the space between us.

The air in the room feels thick, charged, like time itself is holding its breath. Then, as if he’s been holding onto something for too long, the tension in his shoulders suddenly drains away, replaced by something softer, almost fragile. His fingers twitch at his sides like he’s unsure of what to do, like he wants to reach for me but is afraid of the weight of what this means.

“You’re—” He stops himself, blinking hard as if he’s trying to shake off the fog of disbelief. “You’re serious?”

I nod, and when I do, his whole body seems to collapse inward. His breath comes out in a sharp exhale, ragged and uneven, and a shaky laugh bursts from him. It’s low, almost disbelieving, like he can’t quite catch up to the reality of it all. His hands tremble as he reaches for me, pulling me close like I’m the only thing holding him together in this moment. His fingers land on my waist, steady and desperate, as if he needs to feel me beneath his hands, solid and real.

“Holy fucking shit,” he breathes, shaking his head with a soft, disbelieving laugh. "Xaden can keep his damn throne." And then, without warning, he’s kissing me. It’s not soft or gentle—it’s desperate, a kiss that’s full of raw emotion, of relief, of something far too big to name. His hands tighten around me, anchoring himself to the moment, to the realisation, to us.

When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t let go, his hand sliding down to rest over my stomach, warm and steady. His touch is a promise, a grounding force. He’s breathing heavily, still trying to catch up to the reality of everything, but there’s a clarity in his eyes now. A certainty that wasn’t there before.

“This?” He murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “This is ours.”

And for the first time in a long while, I see it—the shift in him, the release of all that frustration, all that anger, replaced with something I can’t quite name. But I know this is the moment everything changes. This is the beginning of something far greater than the chaos we’ve both been drowning in.

Violet slides a glass toward me, the faintest glint of challenge in her eyes as she smirks. “Come on, you’re not seriously turning down a drink, are you?” Her voice has a playful edge, teasing me, but something’s different in the way she looks at me, like she senses that something is off. I hesitate, the words swirling in my mind, threatening to spill, and that’s when I push the glass away.

Her smirk falters. “Wait. What?”

Before she can press further, I feel it—the weight of Ridoc’s gaze on me. I turn, and there he is, standing a few feet away, brow furrowed and head tilted just enough to show he’s putting pieces together. I’ve been trying to hide it, but I can’t. His sharp eyes meet mine, and I know he’s already suspicious. He sees the way my fingers twitch, the way my breath hitches just a little too sharply when Violet teases me. He knows something’s coming.

I swallow hard, grip his wrist, and tug him away from the table. The murmurs of the others fade as I pull him further from the group, needing space to breathe. My pulse is racing now, my heart pounding louder with each step. I know damn well I can’t hold this in any longer, but the moment I say it, things will never be the same.

We stop just outside the circle of laughter and conversation, where no one can overhear us. Ridoc stands there, arms folded, eyes narrowed with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “Alright,” he says, drawing out the word. “You’re acting weird, you turned down alcohol, and you’re pulling me aside like you’ve got some massive secret. Should I be worried?”

The weight of it all presses against me, suffocating, but I manage to look him in the eye. This isn’t something I planned to tell him so soon, but I can’t carry this any longer. I take a deep breath, the words burning on my tongue, and whisper, “I’m pregnant.”

The world seems to stop.

Ridoc blinks once, then twice, as if he didn’t hear me right. His mouth opens, and then shuts, his brain visibly scrambling to process what I just said. His eyes dart to mine, searching for any hint of a joke, but there’s nothing. His hands, once folded tightly across his chest, now hang at his sides, fingers twitching like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

For a moment, he’s completely still, like the world around us has fallen silent and we’re the only ones who matter.

And then, his face shifts. The shock gives way to confusion, and that’s when I see it—the joy. The raw, unfiltered joy that bursts through his expression. His lips part, the corners twitching upward in disbelief. He can’t quite believe it. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

In the next breath, before I can say another word, he spins around, his body moving with a force that’s both desperate and excited. And then, as if he’s claiming the moment for himself, he calls out across the room, loud enough for the entire squad to hear.

“I’M GONNA BE A DAD!”

The room goes completely still. Every single person freezes. A glass hits the floor with a dull thud. Violet chokes on her drink. Rhiannon’s jaw nearly hits the floor. Xaden, of course, looks like he already knew, his gaze unamused but somehow fond. Ridoc, meanwhile, is still grinning like the world is his to conquer. He doesn’t even care that we’re the center of attention.

The chaos erupts. Cheers, whoops, congratulations from every corner of the room. The sound of people scrambling to get to us, laughing, offering their well-wishes. But I can’t help but bury my face in my hands, overwhelmed with embarrassment.

Ridoc’s laughter, though, it’s pure, unrestrained. He pulls me into his arms, lifting me off the ground in a tight, dizzying hug. His grip is firm but gentle, as if I’m the most precious thing he’s ever held.

“You really thought I’d keep that to myself?” he says, his voice muffled in my hair as he chuckles, his breath warm against my skin. “Oh, love, you should know me better by now.”

I can barely breathe, laughing in spite of myself. The entire world feels like it’s shifting around us, and yet in this moment, I don’t care. I’m lost in him, in the joy he’s radiating, in the life we’ve just begun to build together. For the first time, I feel like nothing can touch us.

And when he finally pulls back, his hand slides over my stomach, slow and reverent, as if trying to memorise the change that’s already started to take place.

“This?” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “This is going to be the best thing thats ever happened to us.”

The soft sound of footsteps echoes through the quiet hallway, but it's the unmistakable sound of a door creaking open that pulls me from my thoughts. I'm sitting at the edge of the bed, a thousand things running through my mind, but when I hear it, I freeze.

The door clicks shut behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. I can already hear Sawyer’s quiet, steady steps, the way he moves with that lazy confidence, like nothing in the world could make him rush. He's always been like that—unfazed, comfortable in his skin, but also the first one to notice when something’s off.

He leans against the doorframe, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and one brow arches slightly, like he's in on some joke I haven't figured out yet. He watches me for a long moment, his gaze knowing, waiting for me to speak. But I can’t. Words are stuck in my throat, heavy and thick.

I open my mouth, then close it again, trying to find the courage. My fingers brush against the edge of the bed, and it feels like the room is shrinking, the weight of what’s coming making my chest tighten.

Sawyer, ever perceptive, notices the shift in my demeanor instantly. Without hesitation, he pushes off the doorframe, his movements slow but purposeful. His voice is low, calm, but laced with concern. "What’s wrong?"

I glance at him, my heart hammering, and for a second, I almost wish I could keep this to myself just a little longer. But I know I can’t. Not with him. Not now.

I take a deep breath, avoiding his gaze as I stand up from the bed. My stomach churns again, a nauseating wave rising in my gut, but this time, it's different. I press a hand to my stomach, fighting against the bile that threatens to rise.

And that’s when I feel it—the low, guttural sound of me retching. I stumble toward the bathroom door before the first wave of nausea hits, pushing the door open just enough to avoid the inevitable disaster. I’m barely able to make it to the toilet before I’m on my knees, my body doubling over as I empty my stomach. The burn in my throat makes everything spin, and I try to steady myself, but it’s no use.

Then I hear it—the sound of Sawyer’s footsteps behind me, closer now, much closer. The door to the bathroom creaks open, and I don't need to look up to know he’s standing there. I can feel his presence, solid and unwavering. His hands press against the doorframe as he leans in, his gaze searching for me in the dim light.

“Hey… hey, you okay?” His voice is soft but urgent, his concern bleeding through the calm tone. He steps closer, his hand resting gently on the back of my neck, his touch warm and steady, like he’s trying to pull me back to earth.

I try to swallow, my breath still shallow, but I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes. “I’m fine,” I say, but it comes out raspy and weak, not even close to convincing. The words fall flat, like they’re already on their way to breaking.

Sawyer doesn’t buy it. He crouches down beside me, his fingers brushing through my hair as he presses a damp cloth to the back of my neck. It’s soothing, but it’s also him, grounding me in a way that only he can.

“Talk to me,” he murmurs, voice low and calm.

And that’s when it happens—the dam breaks. I feel the weight of it, everything I’ve been holding back, and it spills out before I can stop it. “Sawyer, I’m pregnant.”

The words hang between us for a moment, and I can see it in his eyes—surprise, confusion, maybe even a little disbelief. His expression shifts like he's trying to process it, his brows furrowing for a fraction of a second before they smooth out, replaced by a gentle, almost stunned smile.

"You’re what?" he asks softly, his voice thick with the disbelief of the moment. But there’s something else there now, something warmer, a flicker of excitement, and maybe even hope.

I nod, my heart thudding in my chest as I try to steady myself, the nausea still lingering. His hands, once gently cradling me, tighten around me now, pulling me closer as if he’s trying to keep me anchored in the moment.

He blinks, then laughs softly, the sound almost disbelieving. “Holy shit,” he breathes, a smile spreading across his face. “I’m gonna be a dad?”

I nod again, the words tumbling out like they’re finally free, but I can feel the tension lift from my shoulders, replaced by something new, something lighter.

Sawyer’s expression shifts from disbelief to joy. It’s like the moment the words left my mouth, everything clicked for him. His arms tighten around me, pulling me into a warm embrace as he presses a kiss to my temple, the action soft, tender. "I’m gonna be a dad," he repeats, voice thick with emotion.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his hand coming up to gently cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over the skin there. “You just made me the happiest guy alive, you know that?”

I lean into his touch, feeling the sincerity in every word, every action. The chaos of the moment, the whirlwind of emotions, all start to settle in a way I didn’t expect. I’ve been carrying this secret, but now, in this moment, it feels like everything is going to be okay. Together.

Sawyer grins, his eyes sparkling with a joy that’s impossible to miss. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but we’ll figure it out. Together.” And just like that, the weight of everything shifts. It’s no longer a burden. It’s a promise.

Dain is already watching me when I step into the room, his eyes flicking over me with that overly cautious, ever-concerned expression that only he can pull off. It's like he has a sixth sense for when something is off. I can feel the weight of his gaze, like he's reading me before I even open my mouth. But this time, I can tell—he has no idea what's coming.

I shift on my feet, trying to steady my racing heart, and exhale sharply. The words feel stuck in my throat, but I can’t keep them in any longer. I have to say it, no matter how much it makes my palms sweat or my stomach churn.

“I’m pregnant,” I say, my voice a little shakier than I want it to be.

For a full five seconds, Dain doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe. It’s like time has stopped, and I’m caught in this endless moment, waiting for him to process what I’ve just said. His face is completely blank, like his brain just short-circuited, like I’ve just dropped an impossible bomb on him and his system is still rebooting.

Then, panic. Pure, unfiltered panic. “You’re what?!” His voice jumps an octave, his eyes going wide as his hands fly up in the air, like he’s physically trying to keep reality from sinking in. “How—? I mean, I know how, but—this isn’t—what are we going to—?”

I can almost see the wheels turning in his head, like he’s trying to work out a hundred different scenarios all at once, his mind moving faster than he can process. He starts pacing, running a hand through his hair, muttering to himself like he’s already mentally drawing up battle plans for a war he didn’t see coming. “We need a plan. I need to—fuck, what if—what about Xaden? Does he know? And the squad? And—”

Before he can fully spiral, a sharp smack echoes through the room. Dain jerks forward slightly, his eyes snapping up in shock, and I can’t help but let out a breath of relief at the interruption.

Behind him stands Sloane, one hand on her hip, the other still raised from the smack she just delivered upside his head. She’s unimpressed, as always, her expression a mixture of disbelief and mild annoyance.

“Pull yourself together, Aetos,” she deadpans, like she’s heard enough. “She just told you she’s pregnant, not that the kingdom is burning down.”

Dain blinks rapidly, his hand coming up to rub the back of his head, his brow furrowing as he tries to process what just happened. “Did you just—?”

Sloane doesn’t even flinch. She just raises an eyebrow and gives him an almost bored look. “You were being dramatic.”

I can’t help the small chuckle that escapes my lips at the exchange. I’m still reeling from the words I just said, but Sloane’s dry humor is like a lifeline, and Dain’s still-freaked-out expression helps ground me.

Something shifts in Dain’s face then. The panic is still there, lingering, but it begins to break apart, bit by bit. He exhales sharply, like he's realizing just how deep into this he’s about to dive. His gaze flicks back to me, and this time, he really sees me—really sees me. The fear is still there, but it's quieter now, and there’s something else in his eyes. Something steadier. Something that tells me he’s starting to process it, even if he’s still not sure what the next step is.

Dain steps forward slowly, almost cautiously, like he’s afraid I might slip away from him if he moves too quickly. His hands reach for mine, his grip warm, a little shaky. For a moment, the world feels like it narrows to just him and me, the chaos of his thoughts receding into the background as he pulls me into his orbit.

“You’re pregnant,” he repeats softly, his voice a little raw. The words still feel strange in the air, like he's still getting used to them, but there’s something comforting in the way he says them. Like he's finally letting the weight of it sink in.

Then, to my complete surprise, a small, almost reverent smile tugs at his lips. The kind of smile I’ve never seen from him before. It’s not the typical confident, strategic grin he wears when he’s solving a problem or taking charge. No, this smile is softer, more awed, like he’s realizing something bigger than both of us.

“We’re going to be okay,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, but it’s filled with something more. A promise. A reassurance.

Just as I feel myself starting to breathe again, Sloane claps Dain on the shoulder with enough force to almost send him stumbling forward. She doesn’t even look back at us as she starts to walk away, her voice cutting through the moment with a sarcastic edge.

“About time,” she mutters under her breath, shaking her head.

Dain huffs out a quiet laugh, clearly unbothered by her comment. He squeezes my hands tighter, his grip grounding me as his other arm slides around my back, pulling me into a tight embrace.

“I’ll be better at this,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion, his breath warm against my ear. “I promise.”

I rest my head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat against mine, and for the first time in a long while, I believe him. Together, we’ll figure this out. One step at a time.

The meeting room is tense, filled with whispers and the clink of metal as people adjust in their seats. Violet is leaning forward, her usual soft smile replacing any hint of concern, while the others are deep in debate about who will go on the next mission. The stakes are high, and it’s clear that everyone wants to make sure they’re well-prepared. My heart is pounding in my chest, a tight knot forming as I feel the weight of what’s coming. The group is discussing the flying assignments, who’s going to be paired with Violet on her dangerous mission, and I can’t help but feel like something’s off. There’s a restlessness in me, a hesitation that I can’t shake.

Then, as expected, the moment comes. They call my name.

I stand, my legs feeling heavier than usual as I move toward the front of the room, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts. I haven't even had the chance to tell Aaric yet. Haven’t had the chance to figure out what to say, how to handle it, how to let him in on something that already feels like it might be too much for us to process together.

But then, just as the silence begins to settle in the room, his voice cuts through, clear and commanding.

“No.” Aaric’s tone is sharp, his presence suddenly filling the room with an authority that demands attention. All eyes snap toward him as he stands from his seat, his jaw tight, a flash of something determined in his eyes. “She’s not going.”

Everyone blinks in confusion, unsure of where this sudden interruption is coming from. I glance over at Violet, who raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. She’s known Aaric for years, but she’s never seen him this... intense, this protective.

“What do you mean, she’s not going?” Xaden’s voice is incredulous, his hands on her hips as he challenges him. “We need her there. She’s more than capable—”

Aaric cuts her off, his gaze never leaving me. “I’m not letting her go. Not when—” He pauses, his expression tightening, like he’s struggling to hold back the words. But then his gaze flickers over to me, and the moment shifts. He knows. His eyes soften, just for a second, and I realize that somehow, without me even saying a word, he’s already figured it out. He’s seen it.

Before anyone can react, Aaric strides toward me, his hand lightly resting on my shoulder, like he’s grounding himself as much as he’s grounding me. “You’re pregnant,” he announces, his voice thick with the weight of his knowledge. The room falls into stunned silence.

I freeze, every muscle in my body locking up as his words hit me like a physical blow. I hadn’t planned to tell anyone yet. I hadn’t even figured out how to tell him. And now, here he is, pulling me into the center of attention, revealing something so personal that I feel like my entire world is shifting beneath me.

There’s a brief moment of chaos, with murmurs spreading through the room, eyes flicking between us. Some of the squad members look concerned, others confused, and a few seem like they’ve been expecting this. But I can’t focus on them. I can’t focus on anything except the look in Aaric’s eyes.

“I…” I try to speak, but the words stick in my throat. I’m not angry at him, not exactly. But I feel exposed, raw. How did he know?

Aaric’s gaze softens as he watches me, but his tone is firm. “I saw it.” His voice drops, quieter now, only for me to hear. “My signet... It showed me. I can’t... I can’t let you put yourself in danger. Not now.”

The sincerity in his eyes is almost enough to break me. His instinct—his foresight—has always been a double-edged sword. It’s saved us more times than I can count, but now, it’s exposing a vulnerability neither of us were ready for. He’s not just thinking about the mission or the war. He’s thinking about me. About us.

Violet is staring at us, disbelief on her face, but Aaric isn’t looking at her. His attention is fully on me, and the way he holds my gaze makes me feel like I’m the only person in the room.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, his hand slipping from my shoulder to gently take my hand. “I know this isn’t easy. But I’m not letting you go out there. Not like this. Not with...” His voice falters for a moment, the weight of his own emotions pressing down on him. “We’re going to be a family.”

His words hit harder than I expected. He hasn’t even had time to process the gravity of what he’s saying, yet somehow, he’s already stepping up in ways I hadn’t anticipated. There’s no panic in his voice, no second-guessing. Just a quiet certainty that, in this moment, makes me feel like maybe everything will be okay.

I open my mouth to argue, to tell him that I’m capable, that I’ve handled worse, but something in his eyes stops me. The truth is, I’m scared. Scared of what this means, what it changes between us. But at the same time, there’s something about Aaric’s confidence, his protectiveness, that makes me feel like maybe—just maybe—he’s right.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice shaky. “I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

He squeezes my hand, his smile a little softer now, though still full of that unshakeable confidence. “You didn’t have to tell me. I knew.”

And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m carrying this burden alone.

The war room is quiet, save for the occasional crackle of candlelight and the rustling of parchment as Brennan pores over the map before him. His shoulders are taut, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. He hasn’t come to bed yet. Again.

I watch him from the doorway for a long moment, arms crossed, my heartbeat an insistent drum against my ribs. He’s been lost in his own mind for hours, drowning in battle plans and strategy, and if I don’t pull him out of it, I know he’ll stay here all night.

So, I move.

The air is thick with the scent of parchment and ink, the remnants of a half-finished cup of tea gone cold at his elbow. He doesn’t look up as I approach, not even when I step behind him and press my hands against his tense shoulders, kneading gently.

“Brennan.” My voice is soft, coaxing.

A quiet hum is the only response I get. He leans into my touch, just barely, but his eyes stay fixed on the map.

Stubborn man.

I exhale sharply before shifting, slipping into his lap with ease. That gets his attention. His hands move instinctively to my hips, steadying me, but his gaze flickers only briefly to my face before returning to the table, as if I’m just another part of the world he’s trying to control.

I huff in frustration, threading my fingers through his auburn hair, tugging gently. “You’re ignoring me.”

“I’m working,” he murmurs, voice distant, distracted.

“Brennan.” This time, there’s warning in my tone. When he still doesn’t look at me, I grab his face between my hands, forcing him to meet my gaze.

He startles, his breath catching, and for the first time tonight, I have his undivided attention.

“Look at me,” I whisper.

His lips part slightly, confusion flickering in the depths of his amber eyes, but he doesn’t pull away. My thumbs brush over the sharp lines of his jaw, tracing the tension there, the weight he carries like armour.

I exhale, slow and measured, before I finally speak the words that have been pressing against my ribs all night.

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

A long, breathless pause where the world seems to still, time stretching between us like something fragile. Brennan doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. His expression is utterly unreadable, carved from stone.

Then—his hands tighten at my waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of my shirt like he’s grounding himself, like he’s afraid to let go.

“What?” The word is barely a whisper, hoarse with something I can’t quite name.

I swallow, my throat suddenly tight. “I’m pregnant.”

His chest rises and falls sharply, the only sign that he’s actually processing what I just said. For a long, terrifying moment, he just stares at me—like I’m something impossible, something too precious to be real.

And then, the breath he’s been holding rushes out of him all at once. His hands move without thought, sliding up my sides, over my stomach, reverent and almost hesitant, as if he’s afraid he might break me.

“You’re serious?” His voice is raw, stripped of all its usual certainty.

I nod.

Something in him shatters.

He exhales a quiet, disbelieving laugh, but his eyes are bright, almost feverish with emotion. And then he’s kissing me—fierce, desperate, like he’s trying to press this moment into my skin so he’ll never forget it. His hands tangle in my hair, pull me closer, his breath warm and unsteady against my lips.

When he finally breaks away, his forehead rests against mine, his eyes searching mine for something unspoken. His fingers skim over my stomach again, slower this time, lingering.

“We’re going to have a child,” he murmurs, like he’s only just allowing himself to believe it.

I nod again, my own breath shaky.

Brennan closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling against my skin. And when he looks at me again, it’s different. The storm inside him has quieted, replaced by something deeper, something unshakable.

“I love you,” he whispers, voice rough with promise. “And I swear to you—I swear on everything—I will protect you both.”

Tears burn at the edges of my vision, but I blink them away, letting my fingers trace the strong lines of his face. “I know.”

And for the first time in hours, Brennan forgets about war.

For the first time in weeks, he lets himself hold something other than duty.

Me. Us. Our future.

And for now, that’s enough.

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miniscapes333 · 1 day ago

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What Would Happen in a Secret Hookup? (18+)

PICK A PILE READING LOVES ;) 👇 [PILE - 1] 👇[PILE - 2]

👆 [PILE - 3]

Disclaimer: The images featured are not mine. All credit and rights belong to their original creators.

PILE 1

There’s a tension in the air long before it happens, an unspoken understanding that this is something neither of you should be indulging in, yet neither of you can resist. It’s the kind of connection that simmers beneath the surface, unacknowledged in daylight but undeniable in the quiet pull of stolen glances, in the way your body reacts when they stand just a little too close. Maybe it’s the secrecy that makes it more intoxicating, the knowledge that the moment you give in, there’s no going back. And when it finally happens when lips find their way to skin, when hands grip a little harder than they should, when your breath hitches in the silence of a dimly lit room it feels forbidden in the best way possible. This isn’t just desire; it’s a slow unraveling, a surrender to something neither of you can put into words but both feel deep in your bones.

Every touch is deliberate, teasing, testing, pushing just enough to drive you insane before pulling back again. There’s a game being played here, one of control and restraint, of teasing glances and fleeting touches that leave behind a trail of heat. They want you to want it to need it and the worst part? You do. The way their fingertips barely ghost over your skin, the way their lips linger at your ear before pulling away it’s maddening. But they know exactly what they’re doing. They know how to make you chase, how to make you beg without saying a word. And when they finally give in? When the teasing shifts into something deeper, more desperate, more consuming? It’s slow and deliberate, drawing every moment out like they want to memorize the way your body reacts, like they want to stretch this secret pleasure for as long as possible.

But the moment never truly belongs to you. No matter how intoxicating it feels, no matter how much you lose yourself in their touch, there’s always something lingering beneath the surface a knowing that this moment is fleeting, that it exists in the space between what’s real and what’s hidden. Maybe that’s what makes it so irresistible. It’s the kind of secret that lingers on your skin long after they’re gone, the kind that leaves you wondering if it was ever meant to be more. And yet, even as you pull away, breathless and wrecked, you know deep down: this isn’t the last time. The way they look at you before they go the way their fingers graze yours just a second longer than necessary it’s a silent promise. A secret never stays buried for long. And this? This is far from over.

PILE 2

There’s something inevitable about this, something magnetic and unstoppable, like the moment before a storm breaks heavy, charged, humming with tension that neither of you can ignore. You both feel it long before you act on it, that slow, smoldering buildup that stretches through glances held too long, through the way their touch lingers just a little longer than necessary, through the unspoken understanding that this whatever this is was never meant to be harmless. It starts in the way they look at you, in the way their body moves toward yours without hesitation, as if the universe itself is pushing you together. And once that last thread of restraint snaps? There’s no stopping it. Their hands are firm, possessive, tracing the shape of your body like they’ve been waiting for this, like they want to memorize every single inch of you.

Every movement is purposeful, each touch sending a slow burn through your skin, as if they’re savoring the moment relishing the way your body reacts to them, the way your breath shudders when their lips graze over your pulse, the way your fingers clutch at them when they press in just the right way. They take their time with you, teasing, tasting, mapping every sensation like they’re determined to master it, to draw out every sigh, every sharp inhale. But there’s also an urgency here, an unrestrained hunger simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over at any second. And when it does when control finally shatters and desire takes overit’s nothing short of devastating. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. It’s rough, desperate, consuming. The way they pull you closer, the way their grip tightens, the way their breath fans hot against your skin it’s a collision, a force of nature neither of you can resist.

But the aftermath? That’s where it lingers. The air is thick with the scent of heat and want, skin flushed, breath still ragged. And yet, even as you lay there, fingers tracing absent patterns against each other’s skin, there’s a knowing between yousomething deeper than just lust, something neither of you are willing to put into words. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe this was exactly what you both needed. But one thing is certain: no matter how much you try to convince yourselves otherwise, this won’t be the last time. The way they look at you, the way your body still burns from their touch? Some things were never meant to be a one-time thing.

PILE 3

It starts with restraint, but it’s the kind that only makes the tension even more unbearable the kind that coils deep, winding tighter with every passing second. There’s something unreadable in their eyes as they watch you, something dark and knowing, like they’ve already played this out in their mind a hundred times before actually reaching for you. And when they do when their fingers finally skim your skin, tracing, testing, tempting you feel it down to your bones. There’s patience here, but it’s the wicked kind. The kind that makes you wait, that teases with whispered words, with lips that barely touch, with the heat of their body just close enough to drive you mad. It’s a game, one they play well, and they enjoy watching you unravel under their touch, under their deliberate pace.

But the second you push back, the second you let them know you’re not just going to take this passively that’s when the fire ignites. The restraint shatters, giving way to raw, unfiltered hunger. Their hands are on you like they can’t help themselves, gripping, pulling, claiming. Everything about this is deep and all-consuming the way their breath mingles with yours, the way their touch turns urgent, the way your bodies fit together like they were always meant to. The need is relentless, a desperate, fevered craving neither of you want to fight anymore. It’s fast, it’s heated, it’s pure, unadulterated passion like the kind you don’t just feel, but the kind that lingers, that seeps into your skin, that leaves you breathless and aching long after it’s over.

And when the fire finally dies down, when the tension finally gives way to the slow, satisfied stillness after, there’s something else that remains. It’s not just lust, not just desire it’s something sweeter, something softer, something dangerous in its own right. Because this wasn’t just physical, and you both know it. The way they touch you now gentler, lingering, almost reverentn tells you that this was more than just a secret hookup. It was a release, yes, but it was also a connection, an unspoken admission that neither of you can take back. And maybe that’s the most dangerous part of all. Because if this was supposed to be a one-time thing, then why does it feel like you’ll both be finding excuses to do it again?

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nakidoriii · 2 days ago

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Speechless (Part 1)

Nerdjo x Reader

Warning: sexual tension, mild smut descriptions|| MDNI

“Ooo, that’s not good.” Gojo says looking at your test grade as you wallow in disappointment at the table.

This is the second math test in a row that you’ve scored a 70/100 on. If you don’t ace the next one, your parents aren’t going to pay for you to go to Osaka this summer.

“Gojo, I don’t know what to do. I literally have perfect grades in every other subject. Why does math have to be so hard?” You whine into the table.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, prez.” He says as he rolls up your test and hits you on the back of the head with it. You lift your head off the table and sit up, looking up at Gojo’s blue eyes as he stands next to you.

You grab your test from him and say, “I need to start studying for the next test TONIGHT.”

Gojo places his hand on the back of his neck and takes a breath. He wanted to ask you if you wanted him to tutor you, but he was too nervous you’d say no. You are the president of the student council and Gojo is your vice president. You’re pretty popular due to you being so heavily involved with extracurricular activities at your university. Gojo is the smartest in the school but not as popular as you since he kept to himself most of the time. Most people were intimidated by him. When you both got elected, he knew that was the only way he’d get to talk to you. You two often saw each other throughout the week and had lunch together regularly but you’ve never had a conversation outside of student council.

“I….I can help you study. If you want me to. I’m not busy tonight.” He says quietly.

“Would you? You can stay over for dinner and everything!” You exclaimed.

“Yea, sure.” Gojo says trying to be normal about the fact that he’s going over to his crushes house.

“YES! I’m gonna pass for sure this time.” You wrap your arms around his tall frame and frantically say, “thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

The apples of Gojo’s cheeks turn pink at the sudden physical contact with you. You look up at him realizing he was startled by you hugging him and let go.

“Sorry, I should’ve asked first.” You say backing from him.

You didn’t realize his body was so…solid. From that hug alone, you felt how toned his stomach was. Knowing that made you pretty curious.

“N-no, it’s okay.” He says trying to compose himself.

“Cool, do you have any more classes today? If not, we can head over to mine now. I’d hate to just have you over to study.”

“I don’t have anything else today. It'd be fun to finally hang outside of school.” He says as he packs his bag.

“Great! I think this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship, Gojo. Don’t you?” You say knowing damn well it’ll make him blush.

“That is, if we have anything in common.” He teases back to your surprise. You both start walking out of the board room, walking side by side, heading to the train station.

“Of course we do! We’re in the student council together, which means we should have something in common. Do you read manga?”

“Nooope.” He sings.

“Anime?”

“Eh, I used to watch but not since I started college.”

“….music? You have to listen to music…” you say flashing him a face of disgust as you reach the station. You get in front of him to lead him to your train.

“Of course, I listen to music, Y/N. But It wouldn’t be anything you’d like…. I like sweets though.” He says getting out his card to swipe through the gates.

“Eating sweets isn’t a hobby…” you swipe your card to get through the gates. It’s crowded as usual. You grab his hand, making sure you don’t lose him in the sea of people. His hands were big and soft, the tips of his fingers a bit calloused. You rushed on the train holding Gojo’s hand as the doors opened. The crowd of people push you both toward the window.

“Ugh, I can’t believe how cramped this is.” You say trying to adjust yourself not realizing your butt is brushing up against Gojo’s crotch. He couldn’t begin to fathom how this was happening in broad daylight. His face turned bright red.

“Y/N, pl-please turn around. I can’t…” he mumbles in your ear.

You look down, realizing just how close you were to him. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like how flustered you made him. You never notice him get like this over you but yet again you guys had never hung out. He places his hand against the wall of the train, creating the smallest space for you.

“Ahhh, I’m sorry Gojo.” You say turning to face him.

“It’s fine, not your fault.” He says trying his hardest to play it off.

You two didn’t talk much on the train ride to your place. It was filled with sexual tension though. You two were so close that whenever Gojo looked down, he got a great view of your breasts. When you looked up, you were met with a view of his sharp jawline and collarbones. You hoped the train would make a hard stop so that he would move closer.

“This is my stop, let’s go.” You say leading him off the train.

Once you get off the train and leave the station, you propose that you stop at the convenience store near your place. Gojo agrees and you both head in.

“Get anything you want, I got you.” You say as you look at the shelves.

He nods and starts to look around. You grab a few snacks and drinks and walk up to the counter to check out. Gojo comes up behind you and places his hand full of things on the counter. It was all sweets… damn he was not kidding. You pay for everything and he grabs the bag from the clerk.

“Thanks.” He says as you two start walking to your apartment.

“You're welcome. Thank you for asking to tutor me. My apartment is right up here. I’m on the 4th floor.” You say as you walk up the stairs with him following you.

Once you get to your place, you both take your shoes off at the door and get comfortable in the living room. He spread out all the snacks on the table as if they were all on display.

“Can I get you something to drink? Tea?” You ask.

“Yea, oolong is good. Do you live alone?” He asks, sitting on the ground.

“Yea, I do. My family lives out of the country while I go to school here. I’m sure you know I’m a foreigner by my appearance, that’s not much of a shock.”

“That’s cool. Your place is really cozy. I wouldn’t have imagined it to look like this.” He says as he takes a bite out of whatever snack he chose.

“You’ve imagined what my apartment looks like?” You say.

“You’re the prettiest girl in our graduating class, Y/N. Every guy has thought about what the inside of your apartment looks like.” He says nonchalantly.

You look up from the tea that you’re preparing, shocked that he said that to you. Was this the same guy that was blushing from you giving him a hug earlier? He gets up from the floor and smirks at you.

“Speechless? I don’t know why… you are on every guy's mind right now.” He says as he walks over to the kitchen.

He gets directly behind you, pressing the bulge in his pants on your ass. You couldn’t even pretend to understand where this confidence came from. You bite your lip in anticipation, waiting to see what his next move is.

“I fear that you’ve been on my mind the most.”

Masterlist

Part two coming soon <3

Please don’t alter or steal my writing ©️

#nerdjo #gojo smut #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk satoru #jujutsu satoru #jjk smut #gojo fluff #gojo x y/n #nakidoriiiwrites #black coded reader #black writers #black writer

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traveler-at-heart · 3 hours ago

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Doctor's In - Part 13

Summary: Your life in Boston after Wanda.

The air is cold, and just your luck, today you left the car outside of the building’s parking lot.

Maybe it’s not such a bad thing after all, as a cute woman is inspecting the black Corvette, in awe of the elegant and expensive car.

“Want a ride?”

“This yours?” she says, genuinenly fascinated.

“Yeap” you nod. “She’s a beauty, 490-hp 6.2-liter V-8 engine”

Do you know what those words mean? Not at all.

“My father and I used to fix cars. I need to send him a picture. Can I?”

“Sure, go ahead” you smile. “I’ll even take one of you standing next to it”

You pull out your phone.

“Oh, wait, I should have given you mine” the woman says, and you smile.

“Or you could give me your number and I’ll send the pics” you smile at her, offering your phone.

“Very smooth” she blushes, taking it.

“If you wanna talk about smooth, the leather seats are just…”

“Ugh, it’s too cold to take my motorcycle, can you give me a ride to the hospital?” Yelena interrupts, coming out of nowhere as usual.

“Shh, go away” you push her behind you.

“God, we’re gonna be late. Just skip to the part where you lie about texting the girl and get on with it” she mumbles, and luckily only you can hear her.

“Sorry, she’s being annoying” you elbow Yelena’s side. “I’ll send you the pictures, and my offer for a ride still stands”

“Well, alright then. Have fun babysitting” the woman comments, which earns her a glare from the blonde.

“Get in the fucking car” you mutter. “Why can’t you ask your mother for a damn car? She has lots of them”

“Like the one you borrow and use to get phone numbers? I don’t understand why you do it, you never call them”

“It’s not about having a date. It’s just fun to talk to girls. I never really did it outside of college” you shrug your shoulders.

You never call them because the thought of being with someone who isn’t Wanda is simply absurd.

But you don’t expect Yelena to understand it.

“I never ask for a car because then she’d be like See, I was right, a motorcycle was a bad idea”

“Get both, like your sister”

“No, because then she’ll say I’m copying her, like when she went to school with a green backpack and I got one that was similar the next day. But green has always been my favorite color” she rambles.

“Are all the Romanoffs this complicated?”

"Is your music taste always this random?" Yelena points at the screen. "Yesterday it was ABBA and now it's Metallica"

"Don't even think about changing it" you say, slapping her hand away.

You finally get to the hospital, parking in your spot, which is one of the best ones in the entire facility.

Melina is trying to convince you to stay beyond your three month contract, and she’s not shying away from providing a life of luxury, with a penthouse and a fancy car included.

If it wasn’t because you’re busting your ass in the ER, you’d feel like a sugar baby.

“Go and check on the people waiting, I have to sign discharges and look at some post ops” you tell Yelena as soon as you walk in, and she nods.

“Morning, everyone” you greet the front desk. “Is Patrick ready for his recital today?”

“Yes, he’s very excited” Nurse Roman says.

“Well, as a doctor I don’t feel comfortable saying break a leg, so let’s just leave it at good luck”

“That sounds perfect to me, Doctor Y/L/N, thank you” the woman says. You’re smiling until you notice the frown on Peña’s face.

“Don’t look at me like that. Not my fault you keep betting on Shelton when he’s literally playing against Alcaraz”

“Shelton is the future of American tennis”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the resounding noise of your debt” you say, going back to the charts but keeping your palm open. You don’t look up until he gives up, putting a 20 in your hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, Peña. I’m so looking forward to Indian Wells and Miami back to back”

You don’t realise that Natasha is also at the front desk, signing a couple of discharge forms.

It’s been a month and you’re already friends with half the people who work here. Natasha’s glad, because it can be miserable to be isolated while you’re away from home.

The other side of her can’t help but feel really stupid too, because all this time she thought you were flirting and in reality, this is who you are with most people.

Now that’s a fast way to humble someone.

“Hi, Doctor Romanoff” you say, finally noticing her. “Ending your shift?”

“Yeah. How about you?”

“Starting a 48”

“Didn’t you just do one 12 hours ago?” she says.

“Yeah, but my brother and sister are coming over so I need the weekend off” you smile, actually excited. Natasha is probably one of the only people who could understand how good it is to reconnect with your siblings, but she’s been distant with you ever since you came to Boston.

So, you wish her a good day, and walk to the madness of the ER.

“Fuck my life, fuck it hard” you mutter when you notice who’s there. Ed Lorne, aka clown nurse. He’s a young one, practically fresh out of college and with an unhealthy obsession to behave like Patch Adams in that movie that always puts you to sleep (No disrespect to Robin Williams).

“Please tell me his shift is almost over” you plead to Yelena.

“Don’t be mean. He’s trying to make an impression”

“He already did and it’s a fucking awful one”

The fact that there’s no swear jar around has turned you into a sailor on leave. Not that you keep track, but if the twins could hear you, they’d be set for an Ivy League education.

Stop thinking about this, you mentally scold yourself, trying to breathe to settle that uncomfortable feeling at the pit of your stomach.

Yelena mistakes your frustrated sigh with a protest as Ed approaches you. Truthfully, it’s a bit of both.

“Top of the morning to you, Doctor Y/L/N” he says, removing an imaginary hat.

God, you’re gonna strangle him with a stethoscope.

“Guy in bed six has problems with urinating and I’m like well, more like ur-out of my bladder!”

“Boy, you’re really bringing the theater kid energy today, aren’t ya” you complain, ignoring Yelena’s smack on your arm.

“Why, thank you for noticing”

“No, that wasn’t a compliment. Check all of my post ops and medication, then fill out the medical records in the computer”

That should keep him busy for the next two hours and away from you.

“Evil” Yelena mumbles, but she’s laughing along.

You take care of a few people, ordering lab tests and other stuff that is quickly taken care of by the staff. It’s nice to have an ER that is never short on medical personnel.

You finish your exam on a patient just in time to get your daily call.

“Hello, Judas”

“Darcy!” you say, always with the same enthusiasm.

“I hate you” she repeats, every day since you left. Well, minus the first week. You didn’t have a phone at all. “Carol hates you too and you’re no longer invited to her wedding”

You can faintly hear Carol’s voice in the background, shouting that what Darcy’s saying is not true.

“I’m trying to get her to come back” Darcy explains. “Look pal, it’s either the good way or the bad way aka getting you in the Psych ward until you go back to your senses”

“I don’t suppose you could get my stuff and send it over?”

“No, for two reasons. One, if I see Wanda I’m going to kill her and dos, you belong here. So it would be stupid to send stuff that you’ll need when you’re back. Besides, how do you know Wanda didn’t throw them away?”

“I just do. Ok, it was nice being emotionally manipulated by you, but I gotta scrub in. Same time on Monday? Remember I’m seeing Zach and Jenny this weekend”

“Yes, get me all the deets on the gossip and yes, same time”

“Love you, pal”

“Screw you”

Darcy hangs up, but stares at her phone for a moment longer. She does miss you and even if she’s giving you shit for it, she understands where you’re coming from.

“Are these the CVs for Chief Fury?”

“Yes” his secretary says, carrying a couple of files. “He doesn’t like to read on the computer”

“Oh, here, I’ll take those”

And Darcy does take them. Straight to the trash can.

Gotta make sure the job’s open when you come back.

—

You’re out of shape. It’s been 27 hours and the work keeps on coming. It doesn’t help that Boston is so much bigger than Westview.

As you sit in one of the front desks, looking over paperwork and lab results, Ed comes in, holding a deck of cards.

“Pick a card”

“Did you get the lab results for Mrs. Pattmore?” you say, resisting the urge to slap the deck to the floor.

“No, they said it would take another hour…”

“Can you check again? Thank you”

Fortunately, he leaves and you sigh.

“He’s quite the character” a man shows up next to you, and you nod.

“He is very useful when I need urgent results from the lab. The technicians can’t stand him so they rather not see him around” you laugh.

“I haven’t seen you before. I’m doctor Stephen Strange. Yes, that is my last name” he adds when you frown.

“Oh, nice to meet you. Yeah, I’m the interim Head of Trauma. Just until they find someone new”

“Huh. Not what I heard”

Well, there’s no way Melina will convince you to stay. But then again… you never thought you’d take the job in Boston.

“That’s definitely my plan” you assure him. “Were you on break?”

“Honeymoon. We just got back” he nods towards another woman who joins you, her smile wide. “Doctor Christine Palmer, meet… sorry, I didn’t get your name”

“Y/L Y/L/N. Congratulations to the both of you” you shake her hand.

“Thank you, how are you liking it here so far?”

“Everyone’s great” you say, but Christine catches your exhaustion.

“Lorne was just here asking to do a magic trick”

“Ah. That” she nods.

“Yeah” you get paged, and then wave at them. “See you around, and welcome back”

There’s a man coming in with a stab wound. Another shift from your work in Stark Hospital; the frequency of people who come in as a result of fights is a lot higher.

It was very rare to treat these kind of things in Westview.

“BP 130/70, no external bleeding or fractures” Yelena says and you nod, encouraging her to continue. “I want a chest X-Ray, transthoracic echocardiogram and blood work”

“The patient’s yours, Doctor Belova”

You’re honestly impressed. Yelena has been putting the work, and she’s very talented, especially while working under pressure.

“She has a good teacher” Melina speaks. The woman has a talent for knowing what people are thinking.

“Well, it’s in her blood, isn’t it? The whole Romanoff dinasty”

“Yes. By the way, this is your last patient. You’re not to be on call for so many hours in a week. The workload is very different here. And we will talk about a bonus so you can buy something to that girlfriend of yours to thank her for letting you be here”

About that.

Nobody knows Wanda kicked you out.

Except Yelena, but that’s because she kept asking about what Wanda said when you decided to come to Boston. The only way to shut her up was by telling her the truth.

It’s impressive that she’s kept the secret for so long.

“No need for a bonus, I’m doing my job as usual”

While you wait for the results of Yelena’s patient, the man begins to complain about pain between the shoulder blades.

“Lorne, book an OR and page Yelena” you say, knowing that’s a bad sign.

The blonde scrubs in as you begin the laparoscopy.

“What’s wrong? I’m still waiting on the results” she says, standing next to you.

“Pain between the shoulder blades is not a good sign for this type of injury. I’m seeing blood cloths in the anterior surface of the stomach and the liver. We’re switching to a laparotomy”

You find three lacerations in the liver and one in the stomach. Well, Melina’s plan didn’t work; you’re staying here for a bit longer.

As you move to inspect the pericardium, you look at Yelena, asking if she sees anything.

“No, it’s fine. Aside from the diaphragmatic perforation”

“And how are we closing that?”

“Ethibond suture with pledget” she answers after a slight hesitation.

“You’ll do it and I’ll be watching” you nod, moving aside. Truth is, your shoulder is hurting. It’s the old injury combined with the extra workload.

“Need any help?” Natasha walks in, and you shake your head no.

“I thought your shift ended”

“Came to do some post ops, and Doctor Romanoff asked me to help so you could go home”

“I’m fine” you lie. But Natasha stays in the OR, looking over Yelena’s shoulder.

“You’re making me nervous”

“Good. You could use some pressure. Y/N’s going soft on you” the redhead teases.

“I’m not!” you say, laughing. “I’ve been told I’m a great teacher”

“I’ve heard” Natasha nods.

Though Yelena takes a little bit longer than you would have, her work is excellent. Once you check everything’s done, you give the team instructions and scrub out.

“What are you doing with your siblings?” Natasha asks, joining you.

“Well, Jenny’s looking at NYU to apply. So I’ll meet them in New York, take them to a Broadway show. I was hoping they’d wanna go to the Met but not holding my breath for two teenagers to choose a museum”

“That’s fair. Have fun with your family” she smiles.

It’s weird to think about them as your family. They are, of course.

But to you, family is an entirely different group of people. One that you’ll never see again.

“Thanks. See you around” you nod, hoping to get some rest.

—

You never thought you’d be eager to see your family, but here you are, waiting in the airport, looking for Jenny.

As soon as she spots you, she runs towards you.

“Hey, kiddo”

“Make room for me” Zach says, jumping right in and making sure his sister has no room to breathe.

“You’re so annoying!” Jenny complains. Even if she’s three years older, Zach is a lot taller, being in that awkward teenage phase. “This trip was supposed to be just me”

“Y/N invited me” he says.

Well, kinda. He inserted himself in your conversations with Jenny, and as soon as he heard the words weekend in New York, he was ready to go.

“Well, I didn’t alter my girls weekend schedule for you, Zach. So just so you know, you’re getting a manicure and we’re plucking your eyebrows” you tease, walking them to where you parked. Of course they argue over who gets to ride in the front. “Alright, this is a rental. So, rule number one, no eating in the car. No throwing stuff at each other. No feet on the dashboard. And no one changes the music”

“Fine” they agree.

“First stop, the penthouse, then NYU”

Melina had heard about your trip and went out of her way to offer you everything at her disposal. Exclusive tickets, the Romanoff penthouse (apparently they have one in every major city), a reservation in a very nice restaurant.

You took most things happily. In a way, this is your compensation for emotional damages.

“So, what happened between you and Wanda?” Jenny says.

“Wow, can we at least have lunch first?” you accidentally hit the brake, making Zach hit his head against the headrest of your seat.

“I’m blind!”

“You’re fine” Jenny shushes him, turning to you. “I’ll tell you about our parent’s divorce”

“Ugh, deal. But you go first”

So, as you get food, Jenny tells you everything, with the occasional intervention from Zach. It’s nothing exciting, not technically. Their father finally realising your mother is an evil witch and taking their children away from her. It would have been ideal to do it when they were younger, but whatever.

“And you guys are doing good?” you ask, making sure things are better.

“Yeah… I just feel bad for her sometimes” Jenny admits. “Like what if she’s lonely or sad, you know?”

“That’s because you’re a good kid” you smile at her. “Let’s go get changed, we have to be ready for your college tour soon”

“What about your part of the deal?”

“Later” you say, trying to avoid talking about it.

By the time you reach the penthouse, you can’t help but admire the view to Central Park. It’s even bigger than the one they gave to you back in Boston.

“I want the biggest room” Zach says as soon as they drop their bags.

Of course, they’re engaging in a fight that involves some name calling and a lot of finger flicks on the forehead.

“You guys are worse than…”

They turn to look at you and you smile, trying to keep it together.

“Worse than…” Zach says but you shake your head.

“Nothing. Come on, better change fast”

Worse than Wanda and Pietro.

Will you ever stop thinking about her?

—

Earning the title of cool sister only takes a borrowed penthouse, Broadway tickets and exclusive seats at Yankees Stadium.

It’s day two and though you haven’t been able to convince them to go to the Met, you’re still enjoying yourself.

Kind of.

“So how long do these last?” you ask again, even if Zach explained the rules a dozen times already. “Ok, next time we’re going to the US Open because at least I’ll understand the game”

“So, you’re planning on staying here?” Jenny asks and you shrug your shoulders.

“There’s no plan for anything, really. I have two months left on my contract”

Zach goes to get more food and you keep watching the game in silence.

“Are you ok?” Jenny asks. Truthfully, though you’ve enjoyed spending time with them, Wanda’s been in the back of your mind more frequently than when you’re busy with work.

You can’t help but think about all the trips you never took with her, or wonder what she’d think about the city.

“Want the grown up answer or the big sister being brave answer?”

“I’d like the truth”

“Well…” you take a deep breath. “I’m not ok. I fucked up big time. I had everything I wanted within reach and just… I don’t know. Maybe it was never meant for me. It was too good”

“You are good enough for it, come on. Don’t say that”

“It’s hard to believe it when I hurt her so much. And the kids. But, it is what it is I guess”

“I’m sorry. If you wanna talk…”

“I know, sis. Thanks” you smile at her. All of the sudden you hear the crowd roaring and look up to see a ball that’s coming straight your way. You catch it, thinking nothing of it, while some people around you begin to speak to you. “What? Do I have to throw it back?”

“Are you insane?” Zach comes out of nowhere, taking it from you. “This is the coolest thing!”

“It’s a ball” you say, looking at the field.

“Nu-uh. It’s Camarena’s 50th home run. You know, the most promising baseball player of the season”

“Ok, if you say so”

Turns out it is a very big deal, as the player wants the ball back and is offering to meet you in exchange for it. You let Zach decide for the two of you, and his answer is an excited yes.

So, you take a couple of pictures and thank him when he hands you a signed baseball bat.

“Thanks, Carme…”

“Camarena” Zach elbows you. “I’m your biggest fan”

Yeah, you definitely earned the award to coolest sister, and it had nothing to do with all the money you spent. It came down to your ability to catch a freakin ball, like a competition with a golden retriever.

“We still have some time before we have to take the plane. What do you wanna do? You’ve been doing everything we want to” Jenny says, and you think about it.

“Let’s have a picnic in Central Park”

“Sounds fun” she agrees, while Zach keeps taking a million pictures of the bat.

As you walk around the park, you find something that unlocks a memory that was totally lost on you.

“Balto!” you point at a statue of the sleigh dog. They both look at you with blank expressions. “You’ve never seen Balto? Seriously?”

“I don’t know. Mom wouldn’t let us watch some stuff. She said it was silly to have a movie with speaking animals”

“That and Ghostbusters. But we never learned why”

“Oh, that’s because she and dad watched that movie on the day I was born” you explain while you pull out your phone to take a picture of the statue.

“Mom is such a bitch” Zach mutters and it makes you laugh.

“Come on, kid. Screw the picnic, I’m buying you the biggest burger we can find”

“See? I’m her favorite already” he teases Jenny and they begin to argue again. You hug them, staying in the middle to prevent a fight.

“Love ya both, kiddos”

—

Coming back to an empty house stings a bit more when you spent the weekend surrounded by playful banter and pleasant company.

The silence is unbearable and you know that at moments like this there’s only one thing that can make you forget.

So, even if you have to go to work tomorrow, you get changed and head for the usual club.

“Thought you found a better spot” Laura greets you as you approach the bar.

“Work was crazy” is all you say. No one knows your name, or what you do for a living. You just get drinks and dance to loud music.

“The usual?” you nod, accepting the glass of scotch. You enjoy it slowly for a bit, watching as some people dance and party. The outfits and the music are different from your time in college; plus Darcy and you used to go to shitty bars.

Either way, what hasn’t changed is how drunk people act; messy, unaware. You love it. No one’s asking if you’re ok, or why you're there.

“I was gonna buy you a drink, but you’re not done with that one yet” a woman offers with a flirty smile.

You finish what’s left of the scotch in one swift motion, and wink at her.

“There”

“Are you that thirsty, huh?” she teases, and you laugh, sipping from the new glass. “I’m Eve. You?”

“I’m… really thankful for my drink, Eve” you say, because you’re never gonna share your name with anyone else. “Wanna dance?”

The woman rolls her eyes, but follows you to the dance floor. It’s the perfect place to get lost, and avoid any conversation. The music’s loud, there’s people everywhere and you can simply disappear when you’re done.

It’s what you do best, isn’t it?

As you go out for another drink, there’s an impulse to talk to Laura.

“That was the name of a friend”

“What?”

“Laura. Well, not my friend. My ex girlfriend’s friend”

That’s about everything they have in common. This woman is covered in tattoos and has dark hair, styled in a mullet. Very Joan Jett, which is every girl’s type.

But my type is Wanda.

“Is that why you drink until I have to call you a cab?” Laura says, and you nod, taking a shot of tequila and asking for another one.

“Yeah. Come on, just one more” you plea when she’s doubting about giving you a third one. You pout and Laura rolls her eyes. “Thank you. Ah, I love this song!”

You blow her a kiss, running back to the dance floor. Wait, no, you don’t even know this song but it’s cool anyway.

And then the next one is good enough, until you’re a bit too drunk and have no idea what’s playing.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

To your disappointment, it’s a man.

“I’m fine!”

“Yes, you are” he says, putting his arm around your waist.

“I’m gay, dude. Stop it!” you push him away.

“Come on, you just need a good di…”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, not when your fist crashes against his nose.

Stupid move, as he’s tumbling to the floor, creating a commotion. You can tell he’s pissed when he stands up, but he never even gets to yell at you, because someone is pulling you back until you’re out of sight.

“You really are trouble” Laura tsks and you try not to laugh.

“He was an asshole”

“Yeah, he is. If it were up to me he wouldn’t go in at all. I have to get back to the bar. Stay here, drink some water. Then I’ll call you a cab”

“I’m sorry” you say, reaching for her when she walks past you.

“That girl did a number on you, huh?”

“I only have myself to blame” you smile sadly. “Thanks for the help”

Following the woman’s advice, you walk around the room, drinking some water and breathing to gather yourself. You’re vaguely aware of the pain in your hand, and remember that it was stupid to risk yourself that way.

If you can’t operate, Melina’s kicking your ass.

After a while, Laura comes back.

“Car’s waiting”

“Thanks… I owe you...”

“A cup of coffee”

You’re about to protest when she rolls her eyes.

“Not as a date. You have too many issues for me to handle. But I’d rather we stop meeting like this, with you starting a bar fight”

“Yeah, that’s fair” you smile, looking back before leaving the room. “My name’s Y/N, by the way”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N”

—

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

That’s all you can think about as you get ready for a 24 hour shift, sporting a massive headache and hangover.

You’re leaning against the elevator when the doors open, and you speak without opening your eyes, handing the keys of the car to Yelena.

“You’re gonna have to drive me today”

“Yelena already left”

You look up a little too fast, eyes meeting Natasha’s.

“Ah, jeez” you complain, feeling your head pound with the sudden movement.

“Rough night?” she says with a mocking tone, but then pays attention to your bruised knuckles, taking your hand. “What the hell? Are you ok?”

“Dude thought he could touch me and get away with it. It’s fine” you promise, though she doesn’t let go of your hand.

“You know mom’s gonna freak out when she sees this?”

“Don’t be a snitch, Romanoff” you say, stepping out of the elevator. “What are you doing?”

“Get in my car” she says, rolling her eyes. “You’re in no condition to drive”

“This is nice” you look around the Mercedes-Benz, reaching to touch the controls in the dashboard. Natasha slaps your hand away.

“Nicer than the Corvette?”

“Nah, let’s not get crazy”

“Did you have a nice weekend with the family?” she asks, rolling into conversation naturally.

“Yeah, we went to see Wicked because Jenny wanted to, then to a Yankees game where I caught the ball, which is apparently a big deal”

“It is, congrats”

“They made me buy some clothes that are not scrubs or…”

“Mini skirts? Like the one you wore last night”

“How did you…”

“My penthouse is in the same building, remember? Same as Yelena’s. Mom was smart enough to get a house away from everyone”

“Right”

“Doesn’t Wanda mind?”

That shuts you up real fast. And honestly? You don’t feel like lying. But as you’re about to answer her, she stops in the parking lot.

“Sorry, it’s none of my business” she mistakes your silence with annoyance.

“No, that’s not it” you explain, but then your phone pings. It’s a message from Jenny, sending you the Instagram post she made for the weekend in New York.

J: You made it to the gram!

Youths. You don’t even have instagram but click the link nonetheless. Yeah, those are nice pictures.

“Oh, you two came together?” Melina greets when she meets you in the hallway.

“Y/N can explain why” Natasha smirks and you glare at her.

“I was just feeling tired after the family trip”

“Natalia, who will be your plus one to the gala?” Melina changes the subject abruptly.

“I’m not taking anyone”

You direct your attention back to your phone, knowing they’re about to argue.

As you swipe through the pictures, a name catches your eye.

w.maximoff

What?

Does Wanda follow your sister?

She saw the pictures and liked them? Even if you were in them?

Don’t be an idiot, don’t think this means anything, she hates you, she’s better off without you.

The sudden urge to throw up has nothing to do with your hangover. You look around the hallway, and feel the desire to turn around and beg her to take you back.

You miss her too much, you can’t do this without Wanda.

Who are you kidding?

“Take Y/N” you hear all of the sudden.

“What?”

“Take Y/N to the gala with you” Melina decides, making Natasha roll her eyes.

“She doesn’t want to…”

“Yes. I’ll go” you interrupt Natasha.

Anything, anything at all to stop thinking about the one person who made your life worth living.

“Then it’s settled” your boss nods, pleased.

“Excuse me” you walk away, hoping there’s a ton of work that can keep your mind off everything else.

There is, and you’re grateful for the distraction it provides.

“I’m exhausted. How are you managing with a hangover?” Yelena complains after a few hours.

“Get some rest,” you mutter, looking at the lab results. “The OR won’t be ready for another hour anyway”

Unfortunately, it gets very slow as the day progresses. Everyone in the hospital is focused on a kidney transplant that is happening next week.

You see a woman walk in with her son to the ER and approach them.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Y/L/N. How can I help you?”

“Hi, yes. My son fell and I’m not sure, I think he might have hurt his wrist”

You turn to look at the kid, who is probably ten or eleven, and he looks back at you scared.

“I understand. What’s your name?”

“Kyle”

“Hi, Kyle. I’m Y/L. Can I take a look at your wrist?”

It takes him a moment to nod, but once he does you take him to one of the hospital beds where he sits. As you put on a pair of gloves, he looks around, clearly nervous.

“Cool shirt” you make conversation, noticing his Yoshi shirt. “My favorite is Rainbow Road, but the best time I ever did was on Vanilla Lake”

“Really? My favorite is Koopa Troopa Beach”

“That’s a good one” you agree, applying pressure on his wrist. “Ok, I don’t think anything’s broken but we need an X-ray to confirm. I’ll walk you there, it will take a minute”

Thankfully, it’s just a sprain.

“You’ll just wear a brace for a week, I’m also sending some medication for pain. Now, you’re gonna have to hold up on playing Mario Kart for a bit, as the movement isn’t good for your hand. Take it easy and if there’s any more discomfort or pain, come back to the hospital”

“Thank you” the woman nods, relieved that it’s nothing major. You’re about to say goodbye when her son hugs you.

“Take care, kid”

As you watch them walk away, your mind goes back to Billy and Tommy.

You miss them so much.

“Everything ok?” Yelena asks when you leave in a rush, walking towards the stairs.

Instead of answering her, you go down the steps, until you push the emergency exit, breathing heavily.

Don’t cry at work, don’t cry at work.

It’s not working. You squeeze your eyes shot, pinching the bridge of your nose.

A sob leaves your lips the minute Yelena catches up with you.

“It’s ok. I’m here” she says, hugging you.

“I miss them”

“I know. I’m sorry” is all she says, allowing you to cry as you lean your head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be…” you finally gather yourself, wiping away the tears. Your face is hot with the embarrassment of being so emotional in front of Yelena.

“I understand. There’s nothing to be sorry about. Come on, you should get some sleep. I’ll cover the ER for a bit”

“Ok” you nod. But she still follows you to the break room, and as you lay in bed, Yelena makes small talk, asking about your trip and telling you some funny things that used to happen to her and Natasha when their mother would leave them to roam the city while she had board meetings.

As she tells you about her favorite things from the Met, your eyes feel heavy and you fall asleep, exhausted.

The younger woman looks at you, feeling a bit guilty. She understands that everyone in this situation is an adult, and sometimes relationships don’t work.

But it’s still hard to see you so heartbroken and lonely.

“Hey” Natasha walks in the room, and Yelena shushes her, leaning her head towards you. “Is she ok?”

“I don’t know” the blonde admits, closing the door behind her. “What’s up?”

“Mom told me you’re bringing a plus one to the gala! I thought we agreed no dates for this one”

“Oh, yeah…” Yelena blushes, and Natasha tilts her head.

“Who is it?”

“So, what are you doing? Should we find you a date?” Yelena rushes to change the subject, walking with her sister to the cafeteria.

“No, Y/N volunteered. Or, my mother kinda forced her to”

“Maybe it will be good to have a distraction. She’s having a rough time”

Natasha stays silent as they get some food. To be honest, she has been distant with you. It was hard to get close again after all the hard words you exchanged.

Natasha was just trying to protect herself.

“So you’re not gonna tell me who it is?” Natasha insists after a moment of silence. Yelena laughs, shaking her head.

“You’ll find out soon enough”

—

You open your eyes to the sound of your pager. The OR was busy for longer than anticipated and you’re about to go and check if everyone’s ready.

While you yawn, you dial Yelena’s number.

“Hello?” you hear Natasha’s voice.

“Why are you answering Yelena’s phone?” you say, doble checking that you indeed called her sister.

“Oh, crap. I took her phone by accident”

“Hey” you step out of the room, and find none other than Natasha, ready to leave for the day. “Guess your mother bought these phones in bulk”

You show her the mobile Melina gave you, though you insisted in keeping your number. It’s identical to Yelena’s and Natasha’s and every head of department has one as well.

“Heads up, she might be tracking your location”

“What? Can she do that?” you say, shaking the phone. Natasha smiles at that.

She forgets not everyone is expecting the worst from Melina.

“I better go and exchange phones with Yelena” the redhead says.

“Sure, can you tell her that the OR’s ready? Thanks”

You leave, but then Natasha’s voice stops you.

“Do you wanna do something tomorrow?”

There’s a hint of shock in your face, but you nod and smile.

“Yeah, sure. Wanna come over to watch a movie?”

“Sounds good” she agrees.

“Alright. See ya then” you wave goodbye.

Between this and the gala, Natasha doesn’t know if it’s a good idea to spend so much time together.

She’s about to find out.

—

Natasha is questioning her choices as she knocks on your door, thinking it might be unwise to spend alone time with you.

She had felt like you both got some closure after the emergency surgery on that woman. And then, one week later you had shown up at her hospital, as if you hadn’t refused the offer a number of times.

As if the thought of leaving your precious girlfriend behind wasn’t the craziest thing in the world.

“Hey, come on in” you greet, opening for her.

“Love what you’ve done with the place” she teases, watching as the only real decoration is a Polaroid picture of you and Yelena that is taped to the fridge.

“I’m happy this thing came with furniture or we’d be having dinner on the floor”

“Martha Stewart would be proud” she says and you roll your eyes.

“Come on, food will be ready in a bit” you say, asking her to open the bottle of wine.

“Where’d you get it from?” she asks as she hands you a glass.

“Uh, the grocery store?” you look back from the stove.

“Wait, you’re making it? From scratch?” she puts her glass down, looking over your shoulder.

“Well, not from scratch, it’s not like I made the pasta”

“I thought you didn’t cook”

“I didn’t” you smile, offering her a taste of the sauce. “But I got used to the finer things in life, like a good old homemade meal, and had to figure out how to get something done”

“This is actually really good” she says, surprised.

“I will give you a pass because I am also surprised that my cooking’s not so bad”

It must have been because you used to watch Wanda cooking all the time.

Ah, shit.

Maybe eventually you’ll go a day without thinking about her. Or not, and that’s your karma for being an idiot.

Once everything’s ready, you pull out two plates, and serve the food.

“What do you wanna watch?”

“Not sure, could we eat first?”

“Why, want to check that I won’t give you food poisoning?” you joke, but Natasha doesn’t laugh. “Oh, come on! I’ve never gotten sick and it’s been a month!”

“Let’s just eat”

“Fine, are you sure you’re gonna be ok talking to me? You’ve been avoiding me since I arrived in Boston” you comment, though you can’t be mad at her.

It was easier to blame her for your screw up that own up to it. You’re not particularly proud of it.

“I wasn’t sure if your girlfriend would give you shit for talking to me”

“We’re not together anymore” you blurt out, making Natasha stop chewing.

“You’re shitting me”

“She broke up with me” you shrug your shoulders. “So I quit my job and ran away like the asshole I am”

There’s a beat of silence, and you keep eating. You’re not expecting anything from Natasha, like pity or words of comfort. It’s just the way things are.

“I had no idea… I’m sorry. I feel responsible”

“Nat, don’t. Honestly, you weren’t wrong. I am attracted to you, and I didn’t set boundaries. If anything, I’m sorry for being a jerk and ruining our friendship”

She keeps eating quietly, and you know that she accepted the apology without making a fuss about it.

“Crazy, stupid love” you mumble after a couple of minutes.

“Yeah, I guess it can be”

“No” you snort out a laugh. “I mean that’s the movie I wanna watch!”

“Oh, I don’t know it” Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Of course not, it’s not a Bond movie. Come on, now that you’ve seen my food won’t take you to the ER, let’s get everything ready” you say, picking up the dishes. Maybe you’ll make popcorn, even though you are full.

“Wait a minute” Natasha says, and when you turn around, she’s got you cornered against the kitchen counter.

“Huh?”

“You said you are attracted to me. Not were. So you still are” she smirks, eyeing you up and down.

“Well, yeah. Have you seen yourself?” you stutter. It’s not helping that you’ve gotten used to physical intimacy and you’ve been craving it for the past weeks.

But that makes you think of Wanda again.

“I just… you deserve more than being a rebound, Natasha. And I am serious when I say I’m not staying beyond my contract”

You know you can’t be someone who isn’t heartbroken and in love with Wanda. But you can at least be honest about it.

“I know. It’s just fun to watch you get all flustered” she says with a sultry voice.

“Not funny” you say, pushing her away.

“Let’s watch that silly, corny movie now” Natasha rolls her eyes.

“You’re gonna love it”

“Doubt it”

As you suspect, she’s critizing Cal at every possible turn, calling him a loser. She’s also constantly texting about the hospital in between complaints.

“Hey!” she protests when you snatch her phone.

“I know we’re both workaholics, but you’re missing the parts with Emma Stone which are arguably the best ones. And this big reveal will blow your mind”

So, you put both of your phones down in the coffee table and take it as a win when she’s laughing at some of the moments in the film.

“Hannah is Cal’s daughter?” Natasha screams when you get to that scene.

“See?”

“Damn!”

“Bathroom break” you announce a while later, leaving the movie playing as you know the dialogues.

Natasha is actually interested in the movie when her phone rings and she picks up without looking away from the screen.

“Hello?”

She’s met with silence, which makes her actually pay attention to whoever called her.

Shit.

Wanda.

She took your phone.

But before she can explain or tell the other woman to wait, the call disconnects.

“What’s wrong?” you say when you return, sitting next to Natasha. “I know it’s sad, but I promise it has a happy ending”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry”

“Nat, you’re scaring me”

“I thought it was my phone, I picked it up. Wanda called you” Natasha says, handing over the phone to you.

“Oh” you tilt your head, shocked. “What did she say?”

“Nothing. She hung up. I’m so sorry”

“Well, maybe she just wanted me to get my stuff. That’s the only reason she’d call me, honestly” you say, returning to the movie.

“Why aren’t you freaking out?” Natasha insists.

“I don’t know” you confess. Maybe you’re in shock. It feels surreal to have Wanda call you, after everything she said to you.

You left your old phone at Darcy’s house before jumping on a plane. You only got your old number back after Melina gave you one of those fancy phones.

Now you wonder if she ever tried to call you.

“I should go”

“And leave me to drown in obsessive thoughts?” you say dramatically. “Look, what’s the harm here? That she’ll think the worst of me, and then what? We broke up. She kicked me out, I’m gone like Wanda asked me to. I’ll just text Pietro and ask if the kids are ok”

That was your real concern. You had a feeling that it could be a mistake or something very serious. And you’d always put your pride aside for the sake of the kids.

“We’re watching a horror movie now” Natasha snatches the remote as soon as the credits roll, looking for Insidious. “That will distract you for sure”

—

“You’re evil” you say when Natasha walks out, laughing.

“And you’re a baby”

“There was a demon! Sewing while that creepy song played. You’re sick, Romanoff”

“Sweet dreams, Y/N” she says, whistling the song as she closes the door.

Now you won’t be able to sleep.

But there’s also another thing in the back of your mind.

Pietro hasn’t answered which can mean that it Wanda's call was a mistake and he’s choosing to ignore you.

Or something so monumentally horrible happened that he doesn’t even have his phone on him.

“Fuck it” you say, trying to control your breathing as you dial back.

You begin to feel like an idiot, especially when it’s pretty obvious Wanda won’t pick up the phone.

Hands squeeze the device as you deal with the disappointment. You are about to hang up when you hear it.

Wanda, saying your name.

And for a moment, you feel like everything’s ok again.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n

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jburrgf · 2 days ago

Text

Friends II, The Love Trope Series.

Part II: Are We Still Friends?

◦pairing: ¡bestfriend! joe burrow x ¡bestfriend! reader

◦summary: friends to lovers, childhood friendship. slow burn, soulmates.

◦description: it’s the first year of college, you and joe go together to OSU like you planned, since you found out he was going to columbus. things are okay, until you felt they’re not. joe is distant, so as you, and the feeling of undone feeling still tight both of you together.

◦ playlist: Friends, Ed Sheeran From Eden, Hoozier 21, Gracie Abramns You Belong With Me, Taylor Swift I Couldn't Be More In Love, The 1975

FALL 2015, OHIO STATE UNIVERSITY.

Y/N

The late summer sun hung low in the Ohio sky as I hoisted another box out of the trunk of my car. Sweat trickled down my temple as I set it on the curb beside the others, letting out a soft sigh. Moving day was chaotic—cars packed the dorm parking lot, and students scrambled back and forth with suitcases, lamps, and laundry baskets. But for me, the chaos was exciting.

College. It was finally happening.

I scanned the sea of faces, watching as everyone moved with a kind of nervous energy. For most of us, this was the start of something completely new, and the air seemed to buzz with possibility. I’d lucked out with a single dorm room—not many freshmen got one—and it felt like a small victory as I grabbed the last box and started making my way toward the building.

“Need a hand with that?”

I turned to see a girl about my age with curly auburn hair and bright green eyes, standing in the doorway of the room next to mine. She was holding a clipboard, looking like she’d been organizing her own unpacking. Her smile was warm and welcoming, and I couldn’t help but grin back.

“Thanks, but I’ve got it. Last one,” I said, hoisting the box higher.

She stepped aside as I squeezed past her and into my room, setting the box down on my bare mattress. When I turned back around, she was leaning casually against the doorframe.

“I’m Lauren,” she said. “Your neighbor. I figured I’d introduce myself before the semester gets crazy.”

“Y/N,” I replied, brushing my hands on my jeans. “Nice to meet you.”

She stepped into the room, looking around at the neatly labeled boxes and the bare white walls. “Single room, huh? Lucky. They really hooked you up.”

I laughed, nodding. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting it, but I’m not complaining.”

Lauren gave me a teasing smile. “So, are you here on a mission to focus completely on school, or are you going to let loose a little?”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Let loose, huh? I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You know what I mean. Parties, meeting people, the whole college experience. Do you have a boyfriend back home, or are you starting fresh?”

The question caught me off guard, and for a second, I hesitated. A boyfriend? No, not officially. But the moment she asked, my thoughts immediately went to Joey.

Joe Burrow. My best friend.

I shook my head quickly. “No boyfriend,” I said, trying to keep my tone light.

Lauren tilted her head, studying me curiously. “But you hesitated. There’s someone, isn’t there?”

I felt my cheeks warm and let out a soft laugh, brushing off the question. “Not exactly. Just… my best friend. We’ve known each other forever.”

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Is he cute?”

“Lauren!” I exclaimed, laughing again.

“What? It’s a valid question!” she said with a grin.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Yes, okay? He’s… objectively attractive, I guess.”

She gave me a knowing look, crossing her arms. “Uh-huh. And you’re telling me you two have never—?”

“Nope,” I cut her off quickly, shaking my head. “We’re just friends. Always have been.”

Lauren looked skeptical but didn’t press further. Instead, she smiled again and gestured toward the hallway. “Well, if you ever need anything—or if you want to hang out—you know where to find me.”

“Thanks, Lauren,” I said genuinely.

As she left, I sat down on my bed, staring at the boxes scattered around the room. The start of college felt like a fresh chapter, but the thought of Joe still lingered at the back of my mind. I couldn’t help wondering how he was settling in on his end.

JOE BURROW.

The frat house was already buzzing with activity when I pulled up. A group of guys was lounging on the porch, beers in hand, as they laughed and shouted over each other. I slung my duffel bag over my shoulder, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement as I walked up the steps.

“Yo, new guy!” one of them called out, a tall guy with dark hair and an easygoing grin. “You lost?”

I shook my head, smirking. “Nah. Just moving in.”

The guy hopped down from the porch, extending a hand. “I’m Ryan. You must be the quarterback they’ve been talking about.”

I shook his hand firmly. “Joe. Nice to meet you.”

Ryan gave me a once-over, nodding approvingly. “Welcome to the house, man. You’re gonna love it here.”

I followed him inside, where a few other guys were lounging on mismatched couches, watching a game on the massive flat-screen TV. Ryan introduced me to a couple of them, and I could already tell this was going to be a good group to hang out with.

“So, Joe,” one of the guys said, leaning back in his seat. “Quarterback, huh? You must have no trouble with the ladies.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Not really my focus right now.”

“Yeah, right,” Ryan said, grinning. “Come on, man. There’s gotta be someone back home, right?”

Before I could answer, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw the notification.

Y/N: Hope you’re settling in okay! <3

The heart emoji next to her name made me smile, and for a moment, I forgot where I was.

“Who’s that?” Ryan asked, leaning over to peek at my screen.

I quickly locked the phone, tucking it back into my pocket. “Just my best friend.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Best friend, huh? Does she know you’re calling her that?”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like that. We’ve known each other forever. She’s basically family.”

Ryan and the others exchanged a look, and I could tell they weren’t buying it.

“Whatever you say, man,” Ryan said, clapping me on the shoulder. “But if you ever need advice on how to make your move, we’ve got you covered.”

I shook my head, laughing as I grabbed my duffel bag and headed toward the stairs. These guys didn’t get it. Y/N wasn’t just some girl. She was Y/N—my best friend, the person who’d been by my side through everything.

But as I set my bag down in my room and pulled out my phone to text her back, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe they were right. Maybe I wasn’t being honest with myself about how I really felt.

Y/N

The buzz of the first week of college was still settling, and my nerves hadn’t completely gone away. Armed with my notebook and an iced coffee, I walked into my Introduction to Literature class, scanning the room for an empty seat. It was a large lecture hall, and most of the seats were already filled with students chatting or scrolling on their phones.

The air inside the lecture hall felt a little too cold as I walked in, my backpack slung over one shoulder. The room was packed with students, all busy sorting through notes or tapping away at their laptops. I found an empty seat toward the middle and slid into it, pulling out my notebook. The class was introductory psychology, and I’d been looking forward to it.

A few minutes passed, and the professor started setting up at the front, but I wasn’t fully focused. My mind kept drifting to the people I’d met so far. I’d been here for only a few days, but I already felt like I was starting to find my place.

As I scanned the room, I noticed a guy walking in, just a few seats away from mine. He had tousled brown hair, sharp green eyes, and a relaxed smile that made him seem friendly. He caught my gaze and smiled back before sitting down next to me.

“Mind if I sit here?” He asked.

“Not at all,” I replied, his voice warm and inviting.

Sliding into the seat, I glanced at him briefly. He was tall, with slightly messy brown hair and striking green eyes. There was something inherently kind about the way he smiled—a smile that reached his eyes—and it put me at ease almost instantly.

"Hey, you’re in this class too?" he asked, pulling out a notebook and a pen.

"Yeah, I am," I replied, offering a smile of my own. "It’s nice to meet someone else who's excited for the semester."

He chuckled lightly, his eyes warm. "I wouldn’t say excited, but I’m definitely here to learn."

As we started talking about the class, I realized he was genuinely intelligent. The way he answered the professor's questions—thoughtful and concise—made me feel a little more at ease.

“Did you get what he said just now about postmodernism?” I whispered.

He glanced at me, his eyes sparkling with humor. “Yeah, here.” He slid his notebook closer so I could read his notes, which were perfectly legible and far better than my own.

“Wow,” I said softly, impressed. “You’ve got great handwriting.”

“Thanks,” he said, chuckling. “Years of practice. I’m Ryan, by the way.”

“Y/N,” I replied, smiling. “So, you’re a football player, right?” I asked, casually glancing at his team jacket that he had draped over the chair.

He nodded, smiling with a hint of pride. “Yeah, I play for the team.”

“Oh, cool,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual, though my heart was beating a little faster.

We exchanged a few more small details about the class, and soon, I found myself laughing at his dry sense of humor. It was effortless, and I felt comfortable around him in a way that surprised me.

At the end of the lecture, we walked out together, chatting about the material.

“You’re pretty smart,” he said, glancing over at me with a grin.

I laughed, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

As we neared the door, he turned to me, his expression slightly more serious now. “So, what are you doing after class? Maybe we could grab coffee or something—study together?”

My heart fluttered. "Yeah, that sounds great."

We exchanged numbers quickly, and before I knew it, we were texting back and forth, making plans for later in the week. I couldn’t help but feel bubbly and happy. There was just something about him. Ryan wasn’t just nice—he was smart, thoughtful, and easy to talk to. It felt good to meet someone new, someone who made the whole overwhelming college experience seem a little less intimidating.

JOE BURROW.

The sound of rapid gunfire and explosions filled the living room of the frat house as I leaned forward, my thumbs flying over the controller. After the first practice of the year, I always take time to relax a little bit. I was deep in a match of Call of Duty, my focus unshakable, when the front door opened, and a group of guys walked in.

“Yo, Joe,” Ryan called out as he crossed the room toward me. “Are you busy?”

“Not really,” I said, pausing the game and sitting up. “What’s up?”

Ryan leaned back against the arm of the couch, looking unusually pleased with himself. “Met someone today in class. Sweet girl, really smart. Made the whole class way more tolerable.”

I shrugged, not thinking much of it. “Nice. Good for you.”

“Her name’s Y/N,” Ryan said casually, taking a sip of his water.

My heart skipped a beat at the mention of her name. Y/N. My best friend. She’d been texting me here and there, and I had this nagging feeling that something was different about this year—about us. But hearing Ryan talk about her like this made my stomach turn.

“You met her? Where?” I asked, trying to keep my tone casual but failing.

“We’re in the same psych class. She’s cool—smart too. We’re actually going to study together later in the week.” Ryan’s smile was wide, a little smug.

For a second, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to sound like a jealous idiot, but the thought of someone else hanging out with her—it bothered me more than I cared to admit.

“She’s smart?” I said, my voice a little too sharp.

Ryan glanced at me, catching the edge in my tone. “Yeah. We talked a lot during class. She’s definitely got her head on straight. You know her, right?”

I nodded, though my mind was racing. “Yeah. We’ve known each other forever. She’s… my best friend.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, a knowing look crossing his face. “Your best friend, huh? That’s crazy. She didn’t mention you, though.”

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Probably didn’t come up. She’s not one to talk about herself much.”

Ryan studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Huh. Well, she’s great. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so down-to-earth on the first day.”

I nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, she’s awesome.” I scratched the back of my neck. “She’s like family to me.”

Ryan gave me a skeptical glance, leaning back in the chair with a small chuckle. “Sure, man. Whatever you say.”

For a brief second, jealousy flared in my chest. Ryan was a good guy—kind, funny, and ridiculously good-looking. And Y/N seemed to like him, which shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did.

But I pushed the feeling down as quickly as it had come. If Y/N was happy, that was all that mattered.

“You’ve got my blessing, man,” I said, my tone light and teasing.

Ryan grinned. “Thanks, dude. I’ll let you know if she’s into me.”

He looked at his phone for a second, then turned back to me with a more serious expression. “By the way, I gave your number to this girl from my class. She was asking about you, and I thought it might be good.”

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. A girl had asked about me?

I blinked, trying to keep my cool. “Yeah. That’s fine. I’m not really looking for anything serious right now.”

“She was asking if you were single,” he said with a shrug. “Figured I’d help you out. Don’t worry, she’s hot.”

Normally, I’d brush something like that off, but this time, I didn’t mind. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get to know someone new, especially if Y/N was starting to connect with Ryan.

“Thanks, I guess,” I said, shaking my head.

Ryan smiles, clearly satisfied. “Yeah, no pressure. Just thought you might like to know.”

My stomach twisted as I grabbed my phone, checking for any messages. There were a couple from Y/N, but my thoughts kept drifting to Ryan’s words. It wasn’t that I didn’t want her to move on. It was just... the thought of her with someone else felt strange. Almost wrong.

But I couldn’t exactly say that, could I? She was my best friend. Nothing more.

Right?

Y/N

The restaurant was a cozy little place just off campus, tucked away from the bustling streets. The kind of spot you’d walk past a hundred times and never notice until someone pointed it out. Inside, the hum of conversation mixed with the scent of freshly baked bread and sizzling garlic. I’d already claimed a booth by the window, sipping on my iced tea and staring out at the world beyond, trying not to overthink.

It was our first week of college, and while everything was new and exciting, it was also overwhelming. Having Joey around was like having a piece of home with me, something familiar to keep me grounded. When I saw him walk through the door, his messy hair falling into his eyes and his Ohio State hoodie looking soft and worn, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey, trouble,” he greeted as he slid into the seat across from me, grinning like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Hi, Joey,” I replied, my voice soft but happy.

He grabbed a menu, glancing over it before looking up at me. “Alright, first week of college. Give me the rundown. How’s it been?”

I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand as I thought about it. “Honestly? It’s been... good. Busy, but good. My professors seem nice enough, and the classes are interesting so far. And I’ve met some cool people.”

Joey’s brows lifted slightly, a flicker of curiosity passing across his face. “Cool people, huh? Like who?”

“Well, Lauren from down the hall is awesome. She’s fun and, like, effortlessly cool. She invited me to this festival thing during spring break,” I said, my excitement building as I described it. “It’s kind of like a pool party, but there’s powder paint, soap, and bubbles. Doesn’t that sound amazing?”

He leaned back in the booth, crossing his arms and smirking. “You’re telling me you want to get covered in paint and soap, and you think that’s amazing?”

“Joey,” I whined, giving him my best puppy-dog eyes. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Please, will you come with me? I don’t want to go alone.”

He held my gaze for a moment, like he was deciding whether to give in or let me squirm a little longer. Finally, he sighed, shaking his head with a small laugh. “Fine. I’ll go. But if I get paint in my hair, you’re on cleanup duty.”

“Deal!” I said, grinning triumphantly.

As our food arrived and we started eating, the conversation drifted to other things—classes, our dorms, and little anecdotes about our first week. But eventually, I found myself talking about Ryan.

“He’s in my Intro to Physcology class,” I said, keeping my tone casual. “He’s really nice, Joey. Like, genuinely nice. And smart, too.”

Joey paused mid-bite, glancing at me with an unreadable expression. “Ryan, huh? What’s his deal?”

“He’s on the football team, and I know you know him by now. I mean, I don’t know him that well yet, but we’re going out tomorrow,” I admitted, shrugging. “It’s not, like, a date or anything. Just... you know, hanging out.”

“Right,” he said, nodding slowly. “That’s... great. He seems like a good guy.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze. “It’s just nice to talk to someone new, you know? Not that you’re not great, Joey. You’re the best, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he said with a mock-serious expression, making me laugh.

The rest of lunch was easy, comfortable. Joey had a way of making me forget about everything else, even just for a little while.

JOE BURROW

After lunch, I walked back to the frat house, feeling a mix of emotions I couldn’t quite put into words. On the one hand, I was happy for Y/N. She deserved to meet new people, have new experiences. But on the other hand, the way she talked about Ryan—it was like a punch to the gut.

I shook my head, trying to push the thought away as I stepped into the shower. The hot water was a relief, washing away the tension in my muscles, but it did nothing to clear my mind. By the time I stepped out, wrapping a towel around my waist, I still felt... off.

Sitting at my bed, I grabbed my phone to check for any messages.

Unknown Number: Hey, it’s Emily! Ryan said I could text you—hope that’s okay?

I stared at the screen, trying to place the name. Emily... oh, right. She was the girl who’d asked Ryan for my number. I hesitated for a second before typing back.

Me: Hey, no problem. What's up?

Her reply came almost instantly, and before I knew it, we were chatting. Emily was funny, confident in a way that caught me off guard, and easy to talk to. She mentioned being a football fan, which was a nice surprise. Most people only pretended to care about it once they found out who I was.

Emily: So, what are you doing tonight? Wanna grab a drink?

I glanced at the time, weighing my options. I didn’t really have plans, and honestly, it might be nice to get out for a bit.

Me: Yeah, sure. Where should we meet?

She sent me the name of a bar just off campus, and I quickly replied, confirming. Tossing my phone onto the bed, I stood up and pulled on a pair of jeans and a plain black T-shirt. My hair was still damp as I ran a hand through it, trying to make it look presentable.

Just as I grabbed my keys, my phone buzzed again. It was a text from Y/N.

Y/N: Thanks for lunch, Joey. I already miss you :(

You’re the best!

I stared at the message, a strange warmth settling in my chest. For a moment, I thought about texting her back, but instead, I slipped the phone into my pocket and headed out the door.

Tonight wasn’t about Y/N. It couldn’t be. I had to stop letting my feelings for her dictate everything I did. Emily was nice, and this was my chance to start fresh.

[…]

The bar was alive with energy. The hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional cheer from the pool tables blended into the beat of the music playing over the speakers. As I pushed through the heavy doors, I scanned the room, quickly spotting Emily sitting at the bar. She was hard to miss—blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, a fitted shirt that seemed to shimmer under the dim neon lights, and little high waisted jeans. And, of course, a confidence in her posture that immediately caught my attention.

“Hey,” I said, stepping up beside her.

She turned, flashing a bright smile. “Hey, Joe. Glad you made it.”

I nodded, taking the seat next to her. “You’re hard to say no to.”

Her laugh was light, easy. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The bartender approached, and I ordered a beer, Emily opting for a vodka soda. We chatted for a bit, keeping it casual at first. She asked about football, and I asked about her classes, but as the drinks started to flow, the conversation shifted.

“So,” she said, leaning closer, her lips quivering into a playful smile. “How good are you at the pool?”

“Decent,” I replied, matching her grin. “Why? You wanna find out?”

“Obviously,” she teased, grabbing her drink and sliding off the barstool. “Come on, QB. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

We made our way to the pool table, the low overhead light casting a golden glow on the felt. She grabbed a cue, expertly chalking the tip while I racked the balls. Her confidence was magnetic, and I couldn’t help but feel drawn to it.

“Ladies first,” I said, gesturing to the table.

“Chivalry isn’t dead after all,” she quipped, taking her shot. The balls scattered, and she sank one into the corner pocket with ease.

I raised an eyebrow. “Alright, I see how it is. You’ve played before.”

“Maybe a few times,” she said, her tone coy as she lined up her next shot.

We went back and forth, trading playful banter as we played. She was good, I’ll admit, but I wasn’t about to let her win without a fight. Eventually, she scored a tricky shot that had me shaking my head in disbelief.

“That was pure luck,” I said, leaning on my cue as she straightened up, a victorious smile on her face.

“Luck?” she echoed, tilting her head. “I’d call it skill.”

She stepped closer, her confidence radiating. Her eyes sparkled under the dim lights, and for a moment, I forgot about the game entirely. Acting on impulse, I leaned in, brushing my lips against hers. It wasn’t a deep kiss, more of a testing-the-waters kind of thing, but she responded instantly, her hand sliding to my arm.

When we pulled back, she was grinning. “I’ll take that as you admitting I won.”

“Don’t push your luck,” I said, smirking despite myself.

Y/N

The soft strumming of Hozier’s Like Real People Do filled my room, wrapping around me like a blanket as I sat cross-legged on my bed, a book resting on my lap. The evening was quiet, the kind of night that felt perfect for losing myself in another world. I turned a page, my fingers brushing the worn edges of the paper, when a sudden knock on my door pulled me from my little cocoon.

“Coming,” I called, setting the book aside and slipping off the bed.

When I opened the door, Lauren stood there, her energy practically buzzing.

“Why are you here?” she asked, pushing past me into the room. “It’s Friday night, Y/N. You’re supposed to be out, not... reading.”

“I like reading,” I said defensively, closing the door behind her.

“Yeah, but there’s a whole party happening at the bar right now,” she said, plopping onto my bed. “You should come. Everyone’s there.”

“Everyone?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lauren grinned. “Ryan’s there.”

That caught my attention. My heart did a little flip, and I tried to play it cool, but Lauren saw right through me.

“Don’t even try to pretend you’re not interested,” she said, standing up and pulling me toward my closet. “Come on, get dressed. You’re coming with me.”

I sighed, but a part of me was already excited. The thought of seeing Ryan again—and maybe getting to know him a little better—was enough to convince me. I let Lauren rummage through my clothes, eventually settling on a casual but cute outfit: high-waisted jeans, a fitted crop top, and my favorite sneakers.

“You look amazing,” Lauren said, stepping back to admire her work.

“Thanks,” I said, grabbing my bag. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

The bar was packed when we arrived, the energy infectious. Music thumped through the speakers, and laughter echoed from every corner. I scanned the room, looking for Ryan, when my gaze landed on someone else entirely.

Joe.

He was by the pool table, leaning against it with that easy confidence he always seemed to carry. But it wasn’t just him. A blonde girl stood next to him, laughing at something he said. And then—like a punch to the stomach—I saw it.

He kissed her.

I froze, my heart sinking. The world around me seemed to blur, the noise of the bar fading into the background. For a moment, all I could do was stand there, staring at them.

We were wearing the same clothes. Me and her, matching.

And she was kissing him.

“Y/N?” Lauren’s voice pulled me back to reality.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “Let’s... let’s find Ryan.”

But as we moved deeper into the bar, my chest felt tight. I couldn’t shake the image of Joe and that girl, their kiss replaying in my mind like a cruel reminder of something I didn’t even fully understand.

And yet, I smiled. For Ryan. For myself. Like it didn’t matter. Like Joe kissing someone else didn’t feel like losing something I never had.

[…]

Spring break was finally here, and I was feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. The festival was just around the corner, and my friends from high school had made the trip to Columbus to join us for it. They were all staying in my best friend’s sister’s apartment, which was conveniently just a few minutes away from the Ohio State campus. It felt strange to have everyone in one place again, especially since I hadn’t seen most of them since high school graduation.

I was sitting on the couch, scrolling through my phone while my friend, Lauren, was getting ready in the bathroom. The apartment was filled with the buzz of preparation, the sound of blow dryers and laughter echoing through the rooms. I felt a sense of nostalgia, but there was something else lurking behind it. The nagging, aching feeling of the distance that had grown between Joe and me. It had been weeks since I last saw him, and the silence between us was becoming deafening. We had both been so caught up in our own lives, so wrapped up in our new routines at college.

“Y/N!” Lauren called from the bathroom, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You’re not listening. What’s going on? You’re so quiet.”

I glanced up, trying to mask the sadness that had crept up inside me. “Sorry. I’m just... thinking.”

Lauren stepped out of the bathroom, adjusting the straps of her dress. “You’re thinking about Ryan, aren’t you?” she asked, a teasing grin on her face.

I blinked, startled by the directness of her question. “What? No... well, kind of. We’ve been hanging out more. It’s nice.”

Lauren raised an eyebrow. “It’s nice?”

I hesitated, unsure of how to explain it. “Yeah, I mean, he’s cool. We’ve been having a good time.”

She smiled, but there was a curious glint in her eyes. “And what about Joe?”

I stiffened, the mention of his name immediately triggering the ache in my chest. “Joe?” I repeated, trying to keep my tone casual. “I haven’t seen him in a while. It’s... been a couple of weeks, actually.”

Lauren watched me carefully, her expression softening. “You miss him, don’t you?”

I didn’t respond at first, staring at the floor. The truth hung heavy in the air, and I couldn’t bring myself to say it aloud. Instead, I shrugged. “I don’t know. Things got weird after a while, and we just... haven’t talked.”

“Maybe you should reach out to him,” Lauren suggested, her voice gentle but insistent.

I smiled weakly, though the thought of reaching out made me feel even more unsure. “Maybe.”

But deep down, I knew that part of me was hoping that he would reach out first, that Joe would come back and say something—anything—to break the silence that had stretched between us.

JOE BURROW

The faint sound of a knock on my door pulled me out of the haze of half-consciousness. I groggily opened my eyes, only to find Emily lying beside me in bed, her body still warm next to mine.

“Joe,” she murmured, tracing a finger along my chest. “I’m not ready to get up yet.”

I glanced at the clock. I had an hour before I had to leave for the festival. A part of me wanted to just stay in bed, to ignore everything else and enjoy the moment. But there was something about Emily that didn’t sit right with me. I didn’t know what it was exactly, but it bothered me. The way she always seemed so... nonchalant about everything.

I pulled away slightly, rubbing my eyes. “I have that festival today, babe. The one you didn’t want to go to,” I said, my voice hoarse from sleep.

She barely reacted, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. “Yeah, I know. You have to get ready.”

Her tone was flat, as if she didn’t really care. The lack of enthusiasm, the indifference—something about it made me feel uneasy. I wasn’t used to this type of relationship, where everything seemed to float on the surface without any depth.

I sighed, standing up and reaching for my clothes. “I’m going. I’ll see you later.”

Emily gave me a quick nod, not even bothering to sit up. “Sure. Have fun.”

I gave her a kiss, and went to get ready.

As I pulled on my t-shirt and jeans, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to this whole thing. I didn’t want to be with someone who didn’t care, not really. But maybe that’s what this was—a distraction, something to fill the space while I tried to figure out where I stood with Y/N.

The thought of her hit me harder than I expected. It had been weeks, and the silence between us was suffocating. I had told myself that it was fine, that maybe it was better this way. But deep down, I knew I was lying to myself. I missed her.

After getting dressed, I grabbed my keys and headed out of the room. The guys were waiting for me downstairs. I forced myself to smile, to get into the mood of the festival, but something about the way the day was shaping up felt off.

Y/N

The festival was alive with energy, an explosion of colors, music, and laughter. People were dancing, some already covered in the vivid hues of colored powders that filled the air. The sun was warm, the beats of the music pulsing through my chest as I stood with my friends, our excitement contagious. I couldn’t help but smile, the festival atmosphere reminding me of simpler times.

Lauren nudged me playfully, a mischievous grin on her face. “Careful, Y/N. You might end up looking like a walking rainbow,” she teased, pointing to the vibrant splashes of color that now covered her shirt.

I chuckled, brushing the loose strands of hair away from my face. “It’s half the fun,” I said, shrugging. “Just don’t get it on my shoes!”

We were surrounded by laughter and people chatting, but a part of me couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in my chest. It had been weeks since I’d last seen Joe, and even though I had tried to push it aside, I couldn’t help but wonder where he was—what he was doing. The thought of him, with Emily, made me feel unsettled, even though I had no right to feel that way. We weren’t together, and I hadn’t even talked to him in days. Yet, somehow, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“Hey, you made it!” Ryan’s voice cut through my thoughts, and I turned to see him standing in front of me, his signature grin plastered on his face. His green eyes sparkled with excitement as he stood there, dressed in a white t-shirt that was quickly becoming a canvas of color.

“Of course I did,” I replied with a smile, my voice almost a little too eager. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Ryan laughed, running a hand through his hair. “You seem pretty pumped about this. You’ve done this before, right?”

I shook my head, my excitement making my voice lighter. “No, first time. But it’s a good start.” I motioned to the crowd. “This is insane, though. Everyone’s already covered in paint.”

He shrugged, his smile still warm. “Yeah, that’s the fun part. You’ll get used to it.” His tone was casual, but there was a spark in his eyes that I couldn’t ignore.

We spent the next few minutes chatting and laughing, getting completely covered in the neon powders. As much as I was enjoying his company, my mind kept drifting back to Joe. It wasn’t like me to get caught up in thoughts of him, especially when there was so much fun happening around me. But every now and then, I found myself scanning the crowd, looking for a familiar face.

I tried to push it away, but my heart skipped a beat when I finally spotted him.

Joe.

He was standing near the edge of the crowd, looking relaxed, laughing with his friends. But it was something in the way he stood that caught my attention—something that made my chest tighten. His hair was messier than usual, and his eyes sparkled with laughter. There was a magnetic pull toward him, an undeniable connection that seemed to draw me in.

But just as I started to walk toward him, something caught my eye. Emily. She was standing next to him, a flirtatious grin plastered on her face, her hand casually resting on his arm. They looked... good together, and it made something in my chest clench painfully.

For a moment, I stood frozen, my feet glued to the ground as I watched them interact. Joe was laughing, his hand resting on the small of Emily’s back as they shared a quiet joke. The warmth that had bloomed inside me earlier began to dissipate, replaced by an unexpected rush of jealousy and hurt.

I quickly turned away, feeling a knot form in my stomach. Why did it bother me so much to see him with her? Was it because I wanted it to be me? The thought of Joe and Emily together made my heart ache, and I couldn’t quite place why.

“Are you okay?” Ryan’s voice interrupted my thoughts, and I turned to see him looking at me with concern.

I forced a smile, trying to hide the turmoil swirling inside me. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, my voice a little too high-pitched. “Just... I wasn’t expecting to see him here.”

Ryan frowned but didn’t press me further. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” I replied, taking a deep breath. “I’m good. Really.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy that shot through me. Why did it hurt so much to see him with her?

JOE BURROW.

I wasn’t sure what had gotten into me. I should’ve been having fun, should’ve been caught up in the excitement of the festival, but all I could think about was Y/N. It wasn’t like me to obsess over her like this, but ever since the whole thing with Emily started, it was like my mind couldn’t stop wandering back to her.

Emily and I had spent most of the day together, but it wasn’t the same as it used to be. Something about her felt distant, and the more time we spent together, the more I realized that I wasn’t really into her like I thought I was.

We were walking through the crowd when I caught a glimpse of Y/N from across the field. My heart nearly stopped. She looked stunning—her hair a mess of curls, her face bright with excitement, and her eyes sparkling even from a distance. I couldn’t help but stare, but then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Emily standing next to me.

“Joe,” she said, tugging at my sleeve. “You’ve been spacing out all day. What’s up with you?”

I glanced at her, my mind still on Y/N. “Nothing,” I muttered, forcing a smile.

Emily raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. But before she could say anything, I turned to see Y/N’s eyes on me. For a brief second, our gazes locked, and I felt that familiar connection, the one I’d been trying to ignore for weeks now. But then, just as quickly, Y/N looked away, turning toward Ryan.

Something in me twisted.

“Let’s go drink something,” Emily suggested, her voice pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah, okay,” I said, trying to shake the lingering thoughts of Y/N. But as we walked toward the bar area, I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder, my eyes searching for her in the crowd. She was laughing, talking to Ryan, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. Something inside me clenched.

I needed to talk to her. But I didn’t know how.

Y/N

The music was deafening, the kind that pulsed through your veins and made the ground tremble beneath your feet. The air was thick with color, clouds of neon powder mixing with the humid evening air, clinging to our sweaty skin. I didn’t care. Not tonight.

Lauren grabbed my hand, pulling me further into the crowd as "Wake Me Up" by Avicii blared from the speakers. Everyone around us was jumping, laughing, and singing along at the top of their lungs, their energy infectious. I let out a laugh, throwing my arms in the air and spinning in a circle as Lauren cheered me on.

“You look like a walking rainbow!” she shouted over the music, pointing to the streaks of blue, pink, and green that covered my face and clothes.

“You too!” I shot back, laughing as I reached for another drink. The plastic cup in my hand was cold, the liquid a too-sweet mix of something fruity and alcohol that I couldn’t quite place. It didn’t matter. I needed this—needed to feel free, to let go of the weight that had been sitting on my chest ever since I saw Joe at the festival earlier.

It was stupid to care so much. He had Emily now. They were happy, or at least it seemed that way. And yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about him—about the way he had looked at me earlier, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“Y/N!” Ryan’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I turned to see him weaving through the crowd, his white t-shirt smeared with streaks of color. He looked happy, carefree, his green eyes sparkling under the festival lights.

“Hey!” I said, forcing a smile as he reached me.

“You look like you’re having fun,” he said, grinning as he leaned in closer, his voice warm and inviting.

“I am,” I replied, taking another sip of my drink. “This is crazy, though. I don’t think I’ve ever been this covered in paint.”

He laughed, his hand brushing against mine as he gestured to the crowd. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it? To let loose, have fun?”

I nodded, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the alcohol. Ryan was sweet—funny, easy to talk to. He didn’t make my heart race the way Joe did, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe I needed someone who didn’t complicate things, someone who wasn’t tied to years of messy emotions and unspoken feelings.

So when Ryan leaned in, his hand resting gently on my waist as he tilted his head, I didn’t pull away. Instead, I let myself close the gap, pressing my lips to his.

And like that, I was kissing him.

JOE BURROW.

I spotted her the second it happened.

It was like the world had slowed down for a moment, everything else fading into the background as I stood there, frozen in place, watching Y/N kiss Ryan.

My chest tightened, an uncomfortable heat spreading through me as I clenched my fists at my sides. I told myself I had no right to feel this way—no right to be angry or jealous. She wasn’t mine. She never had been.

And yet, the sight of her with him made my stomach churn.

Avicii was still playing, on the back of my head. I could hear them, and my skin was burning.

“Joe?” Emily’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I turned to see her looking up at me, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“What?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’ve been acting weird all night, man. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I muttered, glancing back toward Y/N.

Emily followed my gaze, her expression darkening when she saw what I was looking at. “Oh,” she said flatly. “It’s her.”

I didn’t respond, my jaw tightening as I watched Ryan pull Y/N closer, his hands resting on her waist.

Emily let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“What are you talking about?” I snapped, finally turning to face her.

“You’re obsessed with her,” she said, her voice laced with frustration. “It’s like she’s all you think about.”

“I’m not—” I started, but Emily cut me off.

“Save it, Joe,” she said, stepping back. “If you’re so worried about her, maybe you should just go talk to her.”

“Where are you going?” I snapped.

“I know my way home.”

For a moment, I just stood there, watching as Emily walked away. She was right. I couldn’t stand here and pretend like I didn’t care.

I found Y/N near the edge of the crowd, her cheeks flushed and her hair a mess of curls streaked with neon colors. She was laughing with her friends, her cup half-empty in her hand, and Ryan stood beside her, his hand casually brushing against her arm as he leaned in to say something. My chest tightened at the sight.

“Y/N,” I called out, my voice louder than I intended.

She turned to look at me, her smile fading when she saw the look on my face. “Joe?”

“We need to talk,” I said firmly, ignoring the curious looks from her friends.

“Now?” she asked, frowning.

“Yes, now,” I insisted.

She sighed, handing her cup to Lauren before following me a few steps away from the crowd. “What’s so important that you had to interrupt my night? I was having fun!” she asked, her tone a little sharp.

I hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words, but the frustration bubbling inside me wouldn’t let me stay quiet. “I don’t trust him, Y/N,” I said finally, my voice low.

“Who?” she asked, crossing her arms defensively. But when she looked behind her, her mind got brighter.

“Yes, Ryan,” I said, my frustration boiling over. “I don’t think he’s good for you.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You barely know him, Joe. How can you say that? He’s a nice guy, and he’s on your football team.”

“I know enough,” I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. “I see the way he looks at you. He doesn’t care about you, Y/N. He just wants—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” she snapped, her eyes narrowing.

“I’m just trying to protect you,” I said, my tone softening as I stepped closer.

“Protect me?” she repeated, her voice rising in anger. “Joe, I’m not some damsel in distress. I can take care of myself. You don’t get to decide who’s good enough for me.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but she cut me off, her voice trembling now. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re so caught up in this idea that you have to ‘protect me’ that you don’t even realize how controlling you’re being. It’s exhausting, Joe. You’re exhausted.”

“I’m not trying to control you,” I said, my voice quieter now.

“But that’s exactly what you’re doing,” she said, her expression softening with sadness. “You’ve always done this. You act like I can’t make my own decisions, like I don’t know what’s best for me.”

I stood there, speechless, the weight of her words hitting me like a punch to the gut.

“And if you think Ryan isn’t good enough,” she continued, her voice breaking, “then who is, Joe? Tell me, who’s the perfect person for me in your eyes?”

I froze, the answer sitting on the tip of my tongue but refusing to come out.

It 's me, Y/N. I’m the perfect guy.

It should’ve been me. I should’ve been the one that kissed you. It's been you since we were kids.

But I said nothing.

“That’s what I thought,” she said bitterly, tears welling in her eyes as she shook her head. “You can’t even admit it to yourself, can you?” She took a shaky breath, wiping at her eyes before looking up at me with a sad smile. “I can’t keep doing this, Joe. I can’t keep pretending that this… whatever this is between us, isn’t tearing me apart.”

“What are you saying?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m saying I need space,” she said firmly, her voice steady despite the tears running down her cheeks. “I need to figure out who I am without you constantly hovering over me, questioning my choices.”

“Y/N, you don’t mean that, we are best friends.” I said, panic rising in my chest.

“I do,” she said, stepping back.

Her words felt like a knife to the chest, and I could only stand there, helpless, as she turned away.

“Don’t look for me, please. Just… just leave me alone.” she said softly, her voice barely audible over the noise of the festival.

And just like that, she walked back toward the crowd, leaving me standing there alone, the neon lights casting long shadows on the ground between us.

#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow imagine #joeburrow #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow x reader #bengals #joe burrow angst

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freshl6ve · 17 hours ago

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𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒. 𝐒 | 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐓 𝐔𝐏 & 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄⁷

⭑.ᐟ : 𝐀𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭’𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞. I was lounging on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through my phone, when a sudden knock at the door startled me. Confused, I set my phone down and got up, walking over to the door.

I reached the door, opening it slightly to see who was there. A feeling of uneasy recognition washed over me as I saw Chris standing in the doorway, an expectant smile on his face.

I rolled my eyes and walked away from the door, already feeling annoyed by his unexpected arrival. Chris followed me in, closing the door behind him.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” he said, grabbing my wrist and stopping me in my tracks. “What’s with the sudden switch up? You were all up on me last night, what did I do, ma?”

I spun around to face him, fixing him with a serious look. “Putting your clothes on me and leaving your shit around my house is what you did,” I repeated firmly, the annoyance clear in my voice.

I crossed my arms over my chest, continuing to glare at him. “I literally got in an argument with Matt because he thought I was sleeping with you,” I added, my annoyance and defensiveness rising.

Chris looked mildly surprised at my revelation that Matt had been over. “Matt was here?” he echoed, his eyebrows raised.

I nodded, still scowling. “Yeah, he was. He wasn’t happy to see me wearing your clothes,” I retorted, the sarcasm evident in my voice.

Chris chuckled, a cocky smirk on his face. “Aw, did little Matty-boy get jealous?” he teased, clearly amused by my situation.

Chris took a step forward, his hands reaching for my waist. “Let him,” he said, his gaze locked on mine. “He’s just mad ‘cause you look better in my clothes than his, ma.”

Chris’s hands on my waist pulled me closer to him, my resolve weakening as he neared. “Stop, Chris,” I protested weakly, the proximity and his nearness making it difficult to resist him. “God, you make it so difficult…”

Chris pretended to be clueless, looking down at me with an innocent expression. “Why?” he asked, his hands still on my waist.

I let out a frustrated sigh, gathering my thoughts. “You’re a player,” I began, staring up at him. “I know I should be staying away and I know you’re nothing but trouble.”

I continued firmly, raising a finger between us. “We can’t happen,” I stated firmly, my voice determined. “And we’re never going to happen, ‘cause I’m not going to be another victim of whatever game you’re playing, Chris.”

Chris’s smirk stayed in place, not even fazed by my words. He leaned down, his face only inches away from mine.

Chris leaned down even closer, our faces almost touching. “Just remember,” he said, his voice suggestive, “you were the one who wanted to kiss me last night.”

He moved his head even closer, his breath warm against my face. “Don’t let Matt’s words get to you,” he muttered, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

I swallowed, trying to hold my ground. “Matt only wants what’s best for me,” I countered, my voice weaker than I wanted it to be.

Chris chuckled, his hands tightening their grip on my waist. “And what if what’s best for you isn’t what Matt thinks?” he asked, his lips hovering just above mine.

Chris pulled me even closer, his voice sultry and persuasive. “Maybe I’m what’s best for you,” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. “And Matt’s just talking down on me so you’ll have this perspective of me as a horrible person. It’s true I’m far from perfect, but everyone’s got a story and reasons behind it, don’t they?”

Chris’s tone turned softer, less teasing. His hands loosened their grip on my waist, still holding me close but with a gentler touch.

“I wasn’t always like this,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving mine. “People can change you, ma. I’m not the same person I was five years ago, or even a year ago. And maybe… just maybe you can change me too.”

Chris moved his mouth from my ear down to my neck, his breath hot against my skin. “Just drop the hard act and live a little,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my sensitive flesh.

“There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun,” he continued, his voice a seductive murmur. “And I can show you a whole lot of fun, ma…”

Despite my better judgment, I found myself melting under his touches, his words both tempting and dangerous.

“Chris…” I protested weakly, my resolve weakening as his lips continued their path along my neck.

Chris’s lips continued their path down my neck, his words a husky murmur against my skin. “Matt doesn’t have to know,” he whispered, his voice low and sultry. “It’ll be our secret, ma.”

His mouth moved down my neck to just under my jawline, his kisses gentle yet persuasive.

“You’re a big girl who can choose her own decisions without someone else making them for you,” he murmured between kisses. “So decide wisely.”

As Chris continued his trail of kisses down my neck, my thoughts began to spin, a mix of desire and guilt flooding my mind. I knew that I was about to make a decision that could have serious consequences, and yet… I couldn’t bring myself to push him away.

I thought to myself, This is my decision. Whatever happens from here is on me. I own it all. Not Matt, not Chris… Me.

The realization of my own agency hit me even harder, and any last trace of resistance faded. I knew what I was about to do was risky, and there were definitely going to be consequences, but at that moment… I didn’t care.

I raised a hand, my fingers tangling gently into the soft strands of Chris’s hair. Not pulling him away, but instead holding him closer, surrendering to the moment and my own impulses.

I tilted my head slightly to the side, granting him more access to my neck. Chris chuckled against my skin, his breath hot and heavy.

“There you go,” he crooned, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “Let yourself go, ma. I’ve got you.”

His hands gripped me tighter, his mouth now trailing over my collarbone. I gasped softly, my fingers clenching his hair as my body arched against his.

My mind was reeling, caught between the heady rush of desire and the cold reality of what I was doing. But in the heat of the moment, it was difficult to think clearly.

Chris’s mouth continued kissing, the sensitive skin there responding to his every touch. His hands roamed over my sides, up my back, and down to my hips, their grip firm yet gentle.

“Don’t think,” he murmured against my skin, picking up on my internal struggle. “Just feel, ma.”

His hands moved from my hips to my chin, gently tilting my face up to meet his.

Our eyes locked for a brief moment, both of us seeming to hesitate. But then Chris leaned in, his lips descending on mine in a slow, deliberate kiss.

Fuck it felt wrong, and yet so right at the same time. I found myself melting into it, my body responding to his even as my mind screamed that this wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to hate him, to resist him, to not fall for this.

Yet here I was, returning his kiss, my body quivering under his hands as the guilt and pleasure warred within me.

Chris’s lips left mine, moving down to the opposite side of my neck. At the same time, one of his hands moved to the back of my head, his fingers tangling into my hair as he pulled my head to the side to give him better access.

The combination of his mouth on my neck and the slight sting of my hair being pulled made me gasp, a moan escaping my lips despite my best efforts to hold it in.

Chris chuckled against my skin, his free hand gripping my hip. “That’s good, ma. Let me hear you.”

He gave my hair another gentle tug, his lips continuing their path down my neck. I couldn’t help but let out another soft moan, this time louder and more desperate than the last.

As the moans escaped from my lips, a sudden realization hit me like a bucket of cold water. This wasn’t right, I couldn’t keep doing this.

“I can’t,” I gasped, pushing weakly at his chest. “I can’t, Chris. We can’t do this. I can’t…” I repeated, my voice quivered with both desire and fear.

Chris paused, his lips leaving my neck as he looked down at me with a mixture of surprise and understanding. He didn’t fight my hands as they pushed at his chest, instead taking a small step back, giving me a bit of space.

But he didn’t go far, his intense gaze never leaving mines. “Why not?” he asked, his voice a soft murmur. “Is it cause of Matt?”

My gaze held his, my voice firm despite the conflicting feelings surging within me. “No. It’s got nothing to do with Matt right now,” I answered, my hands still pressed against his chest. “This is a bad idea, and we both know it.”

Chris just watched me silently, his hands now at his sides. But his gaze was intense still, those blue eyes holding mine trapped. After a moment, he spoke, his voice a deep murmur. “Why is it a bad idea?” he asked, his tone curious and sincere. “What makes it so wrong?”

My voice grew quieter, the fear and uncertainty evident in it. “Because I don’t want to be another trophy to you,” I confessed, my words barely above a whisper. “And I don’t know where you’ll be in the morning, or who you’ll be with… and I can’t… I can’t handle that.”

Chris just looked at me, his expression unreadable. I could see the wheels turning in his head, processing my words. After a moment, he took a small step forward, closing the distance between us again.

“So you’re just going to assume the worst?” he asked quietly. “That I’ll just toss you aside like a piece of trash?”

I bit my lip, a mixture of shame, fear, and disappointment flooding through me. “Can you blame me?” I responded, my voice shaking. “You’re not exactly known for sticking around long-term, Chris. You don’t even remember half the girls you’ve slept with. How am I supposed to believe I’ll be any different?”

Chris’s gaze stayed locked on mine, his expression hardening, almost defensive. He slowly pulled back from me, his hands moving to his pockets.

He was quiet for a moment, before a bitter chuckle escaped his lips. “You’re just always gonna see the bad side of me, huh?” he muttered, his tone a mixture of hurt and annoyance. “You’ll never believe that I might want to change, will you?”

I felt a pang of guilt and sadness in my chest, the truth of his words stinging. “Chris, I do believe that you want to change,” I said quietly. “But you can’t blame me for being hesitant. You have a track record, and I’m sorry, but that’s not exactly easy to forget.”

He gave a harsh laugh, bitterness lacing his words. “Right, right. My track record. Always gotta bring it back to that, don’t you?” He took another step away from me, clearly hurt and frustrated by the direction this conversation was going.

I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. “You know how I feel about people like you,” I said, my voice firm yet soft. “You did this yourself, Chris. You can’t be upset at me when I push you away, when I’m scared of being hurt.”

Chris’s expression darkened, frustration and anger mingling in his gaze. “Then stop letting fear get in the way of what you want, for once in your life,” he spat, his voice edged with annoyance. “God, you just let what Matt says get to your head too much. Don’t you have a mind of your own?”

I turned away from Chris and walked over to the coffee table, picking up his hat and jersey from it. The anger and hurt fueling me, I walked back over to him and shoved them against his chest.

“Here, take your shit and go” I said, my voice cold and hard.

His expression darkened even further as he took the hat and jersey from me, gripping them tightly in his hands.

“So that’s it, huh?” he said, his tone a mix of anger and resignation. “You’re just going to push me away again? Ignore your own feelings because you’re too scared to give in to them?”

I felt a pang in my chest as the words left my lips, but I had to do it. I had to shut him out, push him away before he had a chance to break me.

“Just go, Chris,” I said, my voice firm though the sadness was edging through. “I can’t do this right now. Just go.”

Chris just nodded in response, a bitter smile on his face. He turned and walked towards the door, his footsteps echoing heavily in the silent room.

As he reached the door, he paused, glancing back at me one last time. “You know where to find me if you want a quick fuck,” he muttered, his voice hard and bitter.

“Fuck you!” I spat, anger and hurt bubbling over. “Just leave, get the hell out of here!”

He paused, a mix of anger and hurt flickering across his features, but he said nothing else. He opened the door and was gone, his absence leaving a cold void in the room.

I felt the anger and pain wash over, the reality of what just happened crashing down on me like a tidal wave. I walked over and sank down onto the couch, burying my head in my hands and cursing myself for letting things get this way.

The silence in the room was almost deafening, the only sound being the clock ticking away the seconds in the corner. I felt a mix of emotions swirling in my chest—anger, hurt, disappointment, and guilt.

“God dammit,” I muttered to myself, clenching my fists in frustration. “What have I done?”

As I sat in the silence, the memory of last night came flooding back. The way he had listened to me, how kind and caring he'd been, even as I was telling him about the worst moment of my life.

I felt a pang of guilt as I realized that I might have been too quick to judge him, that maybe I'd let my fears and insecurities get the better of me. Maybe this time, he was telling the truth.

But the damage was already done, and now maybe Chris wanted nothing to do with me ever again.

TAGS: @st6rify @jetaimevous @certifiedstarrr @slvtf0rchr1s @l3sbiancvnt @wh0remikasas @r0s3luvr @emely9274 @mimiluvzpicklez @courta13 @talia-unknown @ivysturnss

── .✦ MASTER—LIST ⭑𓂃

#★┊[𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒.𝐒] .ᐟ 🦌₊˚⊹#₊ 𖦹﹕𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐓 𝐔𝐏 & 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄 ₊˚꒰🏁꒱‧#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #chris x y/n #chris x you #chris x reader #freshl6ve #street racing au #street racing

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causeimhappinesss · 1 day ago

Text

Rome's Devotion (part 5)

Warnings: Emperors Geta & Caracalla are warnings themselves, (slight?) blasphemy, non-con/dub-con, misogyny (Ancient Rome, so…)

Pairing: Geta x Christian!reader x Caracalla

Words: 6k

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language (I’m french), so you can correct me if you spot some mistakes :)

Masterlist

The weight of warmth presses against me. I blink, disoriented, my body heavy with sleep. The room is still dim, dawn just a whisper behind the thick curtains. It takes a moment for awareness to settle, for the strange pressure against my legs to make sense.

Geta. His leg is tangled with mine, his breathing steady, deep. His face is turned away, the soft rise and fall of his chest the only sign of life. My heart pounds.

Then I feel it… A slow, deliberate press of lips against my neck.

A shiver runs through me. I stiffen, my breath caught in my throat as another kiss follows, then another, soft and unhurried, trailing lower toward my collarbone. My hands clench against the sheets.

“You’re awake.” Caracalla murmurs.

His voice is thick with sleep, but there’s something else in it, something lazy yet possessive. His arm, heavy and unyielding, drapes over my waist, anchoring me in place. I can’t move, not with Geta pressed against one side of me and Caracalla holding me against the other. My pulse races.

“Let me go, please…” I whisper.

Caracalla exhales a quiet laugh against my skin.

“Why should I?”

His lips brush my throat once more before he shifts, forcing me to turn toward him. I try to resist, but his grip is firm, guiding me until my face is inches from his. His eyes, in a dark shade of blue, so sharp, search mine. For a moment, I forget how to breathe. There’s something strange in his gaze, something I don’t understand. A flicker of something almost vulnerable. It vanishes too quickly for me to grasp, replaced by something else, something unreadable. He lifts a hand, his fingers tracing the curve of my cheek. The touch is featherlight, almost reverent. He moves lower, the warmth of his fingertips gliding over my shoulder, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin near my collarbone.

“You’re shaking.” he notes.

I press my lips together, refusing to answer. I can’t let him see the effect he has on me, can’t let him know that my body betrays me in ways my mind cannot control. He smirks, tilting his head slightly.

“Does this frighten you?”

I don’t know what to say. Yes. No. I don’t even know what this is.

He leans in, his breath warm against my lips, but he doesn’t close the distance. He just watches me, his fingers still grazing my skin in slow, lazy strokes, while Geta shifts behind me, murmuring something incoherent in his sleep. Caracalla’s eyes flick toward his brother, then back to me. His expression changes, just for a second, softening at the edges. His grip on me loosens, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he studies me as if he’s trying to read something written across my skin. His fingers trail over my skin, rough and calloused from years of wielding a sword. His touch is deliberate, slow, as if he’s savoring every inch of me. I shiver when his hand cups my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple. I gasp, the sound escaping before I can stop it. My cheeks burn, and I turn my face away, but he catches my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“Look at me.” he commands, his voice low, almost a growl.

His eyes are like the Mare Internum (Mediterranean Sea), hungry, and there’s something wild in them that makes my stomach twist. His smirk is sharp, predatory, as he pinches my nipple between his fingers. I bite my lip to stifle another gasp, but it’s no use. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

“Yes, you’re trembling,” he says, his voice dripping with amusement. He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “Do I frighten you, my little lamb?”

I shake my head, but the lie is obvious. My body betrays me, my nipples hardening under his touch, a warmth pooling low in my belly.

What is that…?

He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that sends a shiver down my spine. His hand leaves my breast, and for a moment, I think he’s done. Then, he takes my hand, his grip firm, and presses a kiss to my knuckles, my palm. His lips are soft, but there’s nothing gentle about the way he looks at me.

“Feel this…” he murmurs, he runs my hand over his chest, which is so streaked with chestnut hairs that I wonder if the twins’ hair color is natural. Are they one of those nobles who lighten their hair with urine or other procedures? These thoughts quickly fade away. I prefer to observe his undefined torso, so different from a gladiator’s one, though that doesn’t detract from his angelic beauty... How is it possible for a man inhabited by a demon to look so innocent? His skin is hot, his heartbeat steady and strong beneath my fingertips. He moves my hand lower, over the hard planes of his stomach, until my fingers brush against something else. My eyes widen, and I try to pull away, but he tightens his grip, forcing me to touch him.

“No,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I’ve never… I-I can’t…”

“You can;” he interrupts, his voice firm. His smirk widens, and there’s a crazed glint in his eyes now, something that makes my heart race. “You will.”

He wraps my hand around his cock, and I gasp at the heat of him, the way he pulses in my grip. He’s hard, thick, and I can feel the veins beneath my fingers. My hand trembles as wraps his around mine, making me stroke his length, his movements slow and deliberate. His breath hitches, and he groans, a low, guttural sound that sends a jolt of heat through me.

I shouldn’t do that… That’s disgusting… That’s… Oh…

“That’s it…” he moans, his voice rough. “Just like that.”

When I try to leave his manhood, his free hand tangles in my hair, pulling me closer until our lips are almost touching. His breath is hot, mingling with mine. His eyes bore into mine, and there’s something dangerous in them, something that makes my stomach clench.

“You belong to me now.” he says, his voice a low growl. “Do you understand?”

I nod, unable to speak, unable to think. His grip on my hand tightens, and he thrusts into my palm, his cock slick with… a liquid. Precum, if I remember what I’ve heard from other women, married servants. His breath comes faster, his hips moving in time with my strokes. His eyes never leave mine, and there’s something in his gaze that makes my heart race, something that makes me feel like I’m falling, tumbling into something I can’t escape.

“Good girl.” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “Now, let me show you what it means to be mine.”

What am I doing? God, please, forgive me… Save me… I don’t want to lose my purity…

A sharp knock at the door makes me jump. I tear myself away from Caracalla’s hold, my breath uneven, my heart hammering against my ribs. He tenses but doesn’t move, his eyes still locked on mine. Geta stirs beside me, muttering something under his breath before his eyelids flutter open. His gaze is hazy with sleep until he registers the sound at the door. He blinks, then sits up, raking a hand through his hair. Thankfully, he can’t see anything from our activity under the sheets and he’s too half-wake to notice anything.

“Come inside!” he calls, his voice rough from sleep.

The doors swing open, and a small procession of servants I’ve never steps inside, carrying silver trays laden with bread, fruit, and honeyed wine. Behind them, two women hold garments draped over their arms: tunics made of the finest materials for the emperors, and between them, something else.

A dress.

For me.

I clutch the sheet against my chest as the women move around the room with practiced efficiency. Geta stretches and yawns, barely paying them any mind. Caracalla, still beside me, watches with a lazy smirk, his eyes flicking to the dress before returning to my face.

“Look at that…” he muses. “It seems they expect you to stay.”

I don’t answer. I barely breathe.

The dress is rich, white, simple but more than the regular one I wear. The fabric looks soft, finer than anything I have ever worn. It doesn’t belong to a servant. It belongs to someone meant to be seen.

A woman steps forward, lowering her head slightly. “Would you like assistance, my Augustus? Domina?”

I stiffen. That title does not belong to me. They never spotted me, since we don’t share the same tasks; they are assigned to help the emperors and their mother with getting ready.

Geta notices my hesitation and waves a hand dismissively. “Leave it. She will dress herself.”

The women bow their heads and retreat. The air in the chamber thickens, heavy with the scent of warm bread and spiced wine. Geta is the first to leave the bed to wash his face and dress, while Caracalla acts lazily, but I know the truth: he has to wait for his manhood to soften, since he doesn’t want his brother to find out what he was doing to my poor hand. Slowly, the emperors begin their morning routine, discussing matters of state in low voices as though I am not even here.

I quickly jump out of the bed, hiding my breasts. I take the dress, holding it close, my fingers pressing into the fabric. I quickly slid it on and the moment their attention shifts, I slip away, hurrying toward the servants’ quarters, my heart pounding with every step.

Out of the imperial quarters, nauseas threat to empty my stomach. I can’t believe what I’ve done. What he did.

Am I still pure? Will God forgive? What it is divine protection when the servants came in?

When I reach my quarters to start my day with my first tasks, Claudia waits for me in the corridor, eating an apple, her arms half crossed, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. The moment she sees me, she straightens, stepping forward.

“You’re alive…” she says.

I stop, gripping the dress tighter. My mouth is dry. Claudia’s gaze drops to the fabric in my arms, then back to my face.

“And wearing silk, no less.”

I shake my head, still confused and disgusted about what happened. I feel like a prostitute. Played with, used, and then left on the side. Well, I was the one leaving like a thief, after stealing gold coins, but I couldn’t stand staying there. Not after such a filthy act, not after the way my body reacted to the sin.

“I don’t… I can’t…”

She grabs my arm, pulling me deeper into the room, away from prying eyes.

“Tell me everything.”

I swallow hard. There are no words. No way to explain the weight of last night, the way my body betrayed me, the way their eyes burned into my skin. Claudia tilts her head.

“Did they hurt you?”

I hesitate. The answer should be simple. But nothing about this is simple. My friend exhales sharply.

“Y/N, please.”

I look down at the dress in my hands. The embroidery catches the light, gold threads glinting like a promise or a warning.

I shake my head.

“No, not yet… I want to leave Palatin Hill.” I reveal, in a grimace.

These words feel heavy on my tongue, as if speaking them aloud makes them more dangerous. All things considered, maybe it’s the case. Claudia grabs my hand, leads me to the kitchen so I can grab something to eat and drink, before she sits across from me. She keeps cutting her fruit what a small bronze knife, the blade gleaming in the dim light. She exhales slowly and sets the knife down, wiping her hands on her apron. I’m glad the room is empty, while the servants are probably already making themselves ready for the day, while others, working during the night, are jumping on their beds.

“You know it’s not that simple, right?”

I lift my chin. “It should be.”

A shadow crosses her face and she shakes her head, her lips pressed against each other.

“You will have to speak with the matrona and the Magister Domus. They will decide when, and if, you can go.”

A chill prickles my skin. I curl my fingers into my palms, my nails pressing into flesh.

“Do you think they’ll refuse?”

Claudia hesitates. It is brief, but I catch it, the slight flicker in her gaze, the way her shoulders tense. Instead of saying “no”, she sighs and shrugs.

“I fear the emperors might have already given orders.”

A bitter laugh catches in my throat.

“Of course… But they have no right. I am a free citizen.”

Claudia leans forward, lowering her voice, pointing her finger on me, before shoving a piece of apple in her mouth.

“You are in the imperial palace. Their home. Their world. Do you think that matters?”

“I do not belong to them.” I groan, clenching my jaw.

I’m infuriated, my patience is reaching its limit and the blood in my veins are already boiling. My anger is not directed towards her, but to the evil twins ruling this empire they don’t even deserve. Suddenly, Claudia’s dark eyes soften and she pats my hand.

“But they believe that you do.”

A sick feeling twists in my stomach. My heart hammers against my ribs, a steady, desperate rhythm. I press a hand to my chest, as if I can force it to slow.

“How do I stop them? How do I make them see that I am not theirs to take?”

Claudia’s brows draw together, as if she does not quite understand.

“Why does it frighten you so?”

I blink as I frown, disconcerted. “What?”

She leans back slightly.

“It is inevitable, Y/N. If you give them what they want, they will grow bored. They always do. It would be easier.” She replied with a tone more than practical.

Easier. Spitting on my belief, on my love for Jesus Christ and the Lord is easier… God is powerful, God is kind, but God is not always forgiving as explained in the Exodus.

My skin turns to ice.

“You could take precautions… “ she keeps adding, her voice softer. “Avoid pregnancy. At least then, you would have some control.”

Control. The word rings hollow.

I swallow the lump in my throat, my hands curling into my lap. The silence stretches between us, thick, suffocating. My heart pounds so loudly I fear she can hear it.

“I am a Christian. The society is not my problem.”

Claudia freezes.

For a moment, neither of us moves. Then she slaps a hand over her mouth, eyes darting to the door as if someone might be listening. Her breath comes fast, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow bursts.

“Are you mad?” she whispers. “Do you have a death wish?”

I shake my head. My pulse throbs in my throat.

“I trust you. I know you won’t tell anyone.”

Her hand drops from her lips. She grips my wrist, her fingers cold and tight.

“Your secret is safe with me, but never, NEVER, say that again. Not to anyone. Do you understand?" she whispers, panicking.

A dry, humorless laugh escapes me. “They already know.”

Claudia’s fingers dig into my skin.

“They’ve known for some time and for some reason, it amuses them.”

She stares at me, horror creeping into her features.

“I guess they think it’s a game.” I sigh before pinching the bridge of my nose.

Her grip on me tightens.

“Gods help you… Because no one else will.”

I scrub the floor, the rough bristles of the broom scraping against the smooth stone of the Atrium. Each stroke is a small, rhythmic distraction, the motion almost meditative. The last few days have been a haze of silence. Four days without a single summons from the Emperors. Four days when I could almost pretend I was still myself. Four days of peace I never expected. Peace I didn’t dare hope for.

Claudia works beside me, her hands steady, her eyes lowered, as if she, too, is lost in the stillness of the moment. The palace seems quieter without their voices, without their presence weighing down the air. There’s only the distant hum of servants, the soft shuffle of footsteps from other parts of the palace, but here, in the Atrium, it feels almost... normal. Almost.

Then, the noise comes. Footsteps, heavy, and unmistakable voices, echoing through the hall. I freeze. My heart stutters in my chest. Claudia doesn’t notice at first, but I catch the tension in my shoulders, the way the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I swallow hard, my breath catching in my throat.

“I have to go quickly.” I whisper, my voice low but urgent. Claudia looks at me, startled by the sudden change in my demeanor. I don’t have to say more. Her eyes widen as she realizes what I mean. She nods sharply, and I move, quick but careful, slipping behind of the doors on each side, separated by magnificent statues. I press myself against the cold stone wall, barely daring to breathe. My heart pounds in my ears, the familiar fear seizing my chest. I can hear their voices now, clear as day. My body stiffen as I edge closer to the door, just enough to see them, to listen.

“You!” Geta’s voice carries, his tone smooth but with an underlying hardness. He’s playing with her, I can tell. “We need your help.”

Claudia hesitates. She’s always been wary of them, but there’s no real escape for her, not when they command her attention like this.

“My Augustus…” she responds cautiously, almost too carefully. “What help do you require?”

Caracalla speaks next, his voice richer, smoother.

“With Y/N.” he says, the name like a sharp, sweet bite in the air. “We need your help to... convince her.”

My breath catches in my throat. I want to pull away, to stop listening, but my body refuses. I’m frozen, trapped between the cold stone wall and the creeping sense of dread.

I almost thought they forgot about me, were already having sex with a new woman to keep their mind busy… How wrong I was!

“Convince her?” Claudia asks, clearly confused. “Convince her of what?”

Geta’s laugh is low, almost playful, but there’s no warmth in it.

“To come willingly,” he says. “We want her. And we want her to believe she’s chosen us.”

Claudia is silent for a long moment. I feel the tension building between them, between her and the two men.

“But Y/N would never…”

“She will.” Caracalla interrupts, his tone firm, the promise in his voice like a command. “She just needs to think it’s her choice.”

Claudia stammers, uncertain.

“But... she’s not... like the others.”

I feel sick. They’re talking about me like I’m some object to be manipulated, to be bent to their will.

Geta doesn’t waste time:

“What do we do to make her believe it? How do we make her want us?”

I flinch at the question. Want them? How could I ever want them? I feel my stomach churn.

“She... she would have to marry you,” she whispers, the words slow and heavy. “That’s the only way she would ever... accept.”

The silence that follows feels suffocating. I want to scream, but I can’t. I can’t make a sound.

Geta scoffs, the sound full of derision.

“Marry her?” he repeats, his voice thick with disbelief. “Why would we marry someone like her?”

Caracalla’s laugh comes again, but it’s not light or amused. It’s cruel.

“What does she have to offer us? She’s a peasant. She has nothing. No alliances. She can’t even read or write properly. Why would we offer her anything more than what we give to our concubines?”

The question hangs in the air, thick and heavy. I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. Their words are poison, every syllable a knife to my chest.

Claudia tries to defend me.

“She’s... she’s not like that. I’ve told you, she’s different. She…”

Before she can finish, I hear the sudden, sharp sound of a hand being struck. The gasp that follows sends ice through my veins. I don’t dare move, but the panic rises within me.

“Why are you being so difficult, Claudia?” Caracalla growls, his voice low and menacing. “You know what we want. Tell us.”

Claudia’s breath hitches, a shaky sob escaping her.

“I… I’m just trying to be honest. She can… she can read and write a little.”

A deep silence follows, and I feel the weight of their gazes on her, on me.

Geta’s voice cuts through the stillness.

“Interesting for a peasant girl.” he says, his tone mocking.

I press my back harder against the wall, willing myself to disappear. Every part of me aches, every part of me is screaming to run, to escape this suffocating moment. But I can’t move. I can’t do anything except listen. I press myself deeper into the shadows, my heart hammering in my chest, and I barely dare to breathe. The voices of the Emperors are too close, too harsh, too real. I want to move, but my legs feel like stone, unyielding and heavy.

“W-well, maybe… Maybe you could court her?” Her words come out fast, as if trying to patch a crack in the air before it shatters completely.

For a moment, I think my heart has stopped. Court me? The idea is absurd but could give me time before I find a solution.

Caracalla’s laugh cuts through the stillness, cruel and sharp.

“Court her?” he repeats, almost mockingly. “We don’t even do that with our favorite whores. And they’re far more skilled with mouths and pussies at satisfying us than some virgin woman.”

The words hit like a slap, and I shudder, recoiling in my hiding place, pressing my palms against my heart to drown out the humiliation. How could they talk about me like that? As if I were no more than an object, a thing to be passed around.

Geta’s voice follows, slow, calculating. “We’ll think about it, but right now, we have more important matters to attend to.”

The footsteps grow distant, and I don’t know how much time passes before I dare to move. When I do, my body feels like it’s moving against the pull of the earth, like every step requires all the strength I can summon. I step out of the vestibule, my breath shaky, and find Claudia standing a few paces away. The fear in her eyes is impossible to ignore, but there’s something I can’t quite name. Without thinking, I rush toward her, wrapping my arms around her, pressing my face against her shoulder.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry for what he did to you... I couldn’t… I was a coward…”

Claudia stiffens at first, her body rigid under my touch. Then, after a long moment, she sighs, a heavy, exhausted sound, and slowly places her hands on my back, returning the embrace. Her touch is soft but strained. She doesn’t speak at first, but when she does, her voice is barely above a whisper.

“It’s not your fault if they are… mean.”

I pull back just enough to look at her, and her eyes full of unsaid things, a detail meant to tear me apart. The shame I feel for not being able to stop what happened presses down on me like a weight.

I shake my head, not sure if the tears that threaten to fall are anger or fear.

“He had no right.”

“Actually, he could… But you don’t understand. When they want something… They are almost unstoppable.” She trails off, swallowing hard.

I want to shout. I want to scream at her that I do understand. I do know. The idea of them wanting to take more than they’ve already taken, my dignity, my freedom, my future, makes my insides twist. But there’s nothing to say. Not now. Not yet. Not until I figure out how to escape this nightmare.

“I’ll be fine. You need to be careful around them.” She adds.

I nod, the weight of her words settling into my chest like a stone. I don’t know how to be careful anymore. The walls are closing in. Every step I take feels like it leads me closer to the very thing I fear. However, as I look at Claudia, my friend, the only person who seems to understand even a little, I know I can’t break. Not yet.

“Thank you, you’re the best.” I whisper, though the words feel empty in my mouth. But I need to say them. I need to believe that she’s not lost to this world just like I feel I am.

“I’m here.” she promises, her hands still warm on my shoulders. “Always.”

I want to believe her. But inside, the fear lingers. I don’t know if anything, anyone, can save me now.

I’m pulled from my quarters with a force that’s less a command and more a reminder of what power is… Absolute, unyielding. The praetorian guard shoves me forward, the sound of my sandals on the cold marble floor ringing louder in the oppressive silence of the hallway. As we approach the door, I can already feel the weight of it, the unseen pressure of the Emperor’s command. The guard opens the door to Geta’s private chambers, and I freeze in the doorway.

My gaze falls to the floor immediately. I see her, a woman, naked, moving in a way that burns my skin just from the sight. Her body is pressed against his, the scene like something ripped from the darkest corners of my mind. I don’t know who she is, nor do I care. What matters is the Emperor’s presence, the way the room feels suffocating, heavy with decadence.

“Stay.” Geta commands, his voice sharp and lazy at once, as if this is nothing, as if I’m nothing. “Watch.”

He smiles at the prostitute and she lets herself drink him in, Geta’s cock standing hard and proud. Of course, I’ve seen naked men before, accidentally, but not aroused. It’s the first time I see a manhood straight like that, red, veiny. Suddenly, I feel myself blushing and the memories of what Caracalla did to my hands are eating my soul. My chest tightens, my hands trembling by my sides. I refuse. I start looking at my shoes. The urge to flee grips my insides, but my feet are frozen.

“Junia…” he whispers her name like a prayer, a demand. “On your knees.”

The brunette sinks to the cool marble floor, her eyes never leaving his. Then, his gaze shifts on me, and I can feel the heat radiating off his body. Even if I don’t watch, I know she reaches out a hand, tracing the veins of his cock with a featherlight touch.

“I said, watch.” His voice darkens, smooth like oil, but cutting through the air.

I glance down at my shoes, at the polished leather of them, anything to avoid what’s happening in front of me. Every inch of my skin burns, but I refuse to be the thing they want me to be. A mere witness, a part of their game. I will not. The guard behind me shifts slightly, the presence of him a reminder that I am not in control here. Geta’s voice breaks through again, more insistent, this time tinged with irritation.

“Praetorian, bring her forward.”

The sound of footsteps, then a hand on my shoulder, pushing me forward. My heart races as my body refuses to comply. But the praetorian’s grip tightens, more forceful now. I brace myself, my teeth gritted, but it doesn’t matter. Before I can make a sound, the guard’s hand grips my face, tilting it upwards, forcing my eyes to meet Geta’s. I see him clearly now. His eyes are dark, unreadable, like a predator that has already marked its prey. He smirks, amused at my defiance, a twisted glint in his gaze.

He groans, his hips bucking slightly as she takes him deeper. His breathing becomes shallow as he grabs her hair, guiding her. Geta leans down, his body hovering over hers.

My lips parting, a shallow breath escapes me and I barely swallow my spit.

This is disgusting… Too private… Obscene…

“That’s enough. I want to fuck you. Now!”

The woman pulls back, releasing him with a wet pop.

“Fuck me, my Emperor.” She answers with in a fake whimper.

The concubine or whore climbs onto the bed, straddling him. She sinks down onto him in a moan. Suddenly, I clench my legs, like my jaws, and tear my gaze away. I refuse to look at the woman, refuse to acknowledge the obscene display before me. I stay focus on the whole behind them, on the cool stone, and I shut everything else out. I’d rather face my own death than bow to this.

“You think you’re better than this?” Geta asks, his voice low and mocking, drawing out the words. “You think you can defy me?”

I don’t answer. I can’t bring myself to. I’m suffocating on the words I want to say, but none of them matter. None of it matters. I have to hold on to something, anything.

A tear rolls on my burning cheek.

Even if I don’t watch, I still see the woman rocking her hips faster, harder. The sounds of our pleasure fill the room, her moans mixing with his groans. His hands grip her hips, guiding him, urging her on.

The pressure on my face loosens, the guard finally releasing me, though I can still feel the eyes of the room on me. It’s as if the silence itself is alive, crawling under my skin, making my bones ache.

The whore cries out, before I guess he’s pulling out of her and groans one last time, probably to release his seed on her belly.

Before I can even register their words, he sends her away, she quickly leaves the room, cleaning her abdomen, before she left with the Pretorian guard, closing the door behind them. Geta stands before me, naked and calm, his eyes dark and calculating. He reaches for me again, his hand outstretched like a predator ready to claim his prey. I flinch, pulling back, my pulse quickening in fear. My skin burns where his gaze touches me, but I refuse to let him see that. My eyes are locked firmly on the floor, my hands trembling at my sides.

The idea he just had sex with someone, in front of me, without cleaning himself, almost makes me gag.

“Jealous?” Geta’s voice drips with mockery, low and smooth. “Is that it?”

I bite my lip, forcing myself to stand still, to say nothing. My heart races in my chest, my breath shallow, but I know I mustn’t show him any weakness. Not now, not when I’m so close to losing myself.

“How could I be jealous of a prostitute with no ambitions?”

The words slip out before I can stop them, cold and biting, the way I feel deep inside. There’s no turning back once they’ve been said, and I almost wish I could swallow them, shove them back into the hollow pit where they came from. Surprisingly, Geta doesn’t seem offended, he just chuckles, the sound rich and cruel, like a game to him.

“Ambitions?” He repeats, intrigued, his lips curling into a dangerous smirk. “What are your ambitions, little lamb?”

That ridiculous nickname again!

I steady myself, even as his voice worms its way under my skin. I can feel his gaze on me, but I refuse to lift my head. I have to stay strong, to stay true to myself, no matter how impossible that feels at this moment.

“I want to remain a good woman,” I say, my voice trembling slightly but firm in its resolve. “Chaste until my marriage. A respectable mother.”

Even though sex is part of our society, and most people talk about it very freely, without any taboos, women have to remain virgins until they get married. Even a widow can’t take lovers without running the risk of being treated like a whore or having her reputation tarnished. Some would even be punished. So many headwinds within the Empire.

Geta’s laugh rings out, sharp and mocking, as if the very idea of someone like me wanting something so pure is laughable.

“Complicated in a city like Rome with all its debauchery, its opulence, its luxury…” His voice drops, darkening. “You’ll have to get used to it.”

His hands suddenly grip my hips, pulling me toward him, too close. The heat of his body radiates against mine, and I feel as though I’m suffocating, drowning in his touch. My chest tightens, my breath coming in short gasps, but I can’t move. I can’t escape. I try to pull away, but he holds me firm, his touch possessive, forcing me to stay. My pulse races in panic, but I don’t show him the fear that grips my insides. I turn my head slightly, my voice tight as I respond:

“I don’t want your city. I don’t want your luxury.”

“I don’t care about what you want.” Geta whispers, his breath hot against my ear, his lips brushing my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. “You’re mine now. You’ll learn to accept it.”

I try to breathe, to ground myself at this moment, when suddenly, the door crashes open with a violent slam, and a flood of air rushes into the room, breaking the tension.

Caracalla storms in, eyes wild and frantic, his movements erratic. He’s like a child, throwing a tantrum, and for a moment, I almost can’t believe what I’m seeing. His face is twisted in anger, and his fists are clenched at his sides as he paces back and forth, like an animal caged and desperate for release.

“What are you doing?” Caracalla shouts, his voice cracking with emotion. “Why are you stealing her from me when I’m not around?!”

His eyes are wide, frantic with jealousy, and he raises his hands as though to strike something, anything.

“She’s mine, not yours! Why are you taking her?”

His voice rises with every word, full of rage and something deeper: hurt, jealousy, confusion. It’s as if all the carefully constructed walls of power and dominance have crumbled around him, leaving only the raw, childish tantrum of a spoiled boy who doesn’t get what he wants.

Is he reliving what his father did to them when they were children and he was sleeping with the damsel for whom they had developed feelings? Childish, insignificant feelings, because she would never have them other than as kids.

His pale face reddens, and for a moment, I almost expect him to start crying, like a child denied his toy. The sight of it shocks me, but it also sends a flicker of fear through me. Meanwhile, Geta looks unfazed, his face more serious. He doesn’t move, just watches Caracalla with a strange, calculating gaze, as though waiting for the tantrum to pass.

But this is my chance.

I don’t think or hesitate. The moment Caracalla turns his back to me, going straight to his twin in his fit of jealousy, I run for the door, my heart pounding so loudly I can barely hear anything else. My legs ache from the sudden burst of movement, and my breath comes in sharp gasps as I run, not daring to look behind me. I just need to get away, need to be free of this suffocating place, these suffocating men.

Behind me, I hear the heavy footfalls of the guards that did not react fast enough, probably too stunned, the sound of their boots slapping against the stone floor. I don’t look back. I can’t. If I do, I know I’ll lose the one thing I have left, my chance to escape.

I round the corner of the hallway, my breath catching in my throat, but my feet keep moving, keep running. I don’t know where I’m going, don’t know how far I can go before they catch me, but all I know is that for the first time in what feels like an eternity, I’m running toward something.

The poor reader is definitely traumatized by these two perverts! The smut's coming, but slowly, like I said ;) Did you like these smut scenes? Which one do you prefer? I've already started working on the next part, so it will be publish soon, once again!

My AO3: BetrayedWriter

My Instagram: carolinemertz_

⚔️ Taglist: @duckyhowls @babey-fruit-bat, @punk-in-docs, @t6gse370, @angelcloudxxsblog, @miragens-para-uma-vitoria, @himikoquack, @chloe-skywalker, @bocreep, @littlemissholy

#emperor geta #geta x reader #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #geta x you #joseph quinn geta #emperor geta fanfic #emperor geta fanfiction #emperor caracalla #caracalla x reader #caracalla x you #fred hechinger #emperor caracalla fanfiction #joseph quinn

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sapphiresaphics · 3 days ago

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^^^———

This kinda stuff pisses me off because (again) you shouldn’t NEED to exaggerate things to be mad about it.

1. No one is saying it’s not lethal. ALL things can be lethal in excessive quantities and exposures. What we ARE saying is that the show does not SAY that it is lethal to breathe in, and in fact the show goes out of its way to show multiple people being able to handle the grey and deal with it in small doses. That’s important information you’re glossing over… the duration of the exposure.

2. Nowhere does Arcane say that people were dying en mass. The show DOES show that the grey presented an ongoing problem with continued exposure to the workers in the mines. This is reinforced multiple times, as both Vander and Silco worked in the mines and breathed the toxic air. The show presents what CAN happen to prolonged exposure… but the timeframe for exposure is left off the table. You DO NOT KNOW if that exposure is within minutes or years. Again: both Vander and Silco worked in the mines with the toxic gases and they ended up okay without fantasy cancer. So clearly the length of prolonged exposure MATTERS.

3. Yes, the gas made you choke and you struggled to breathe. That’s very clear. But the grey giving to cancer as a result? It is dependent on the person and their exposure. Not everyone who breathes it in will develop fantasy cancer as a result. If that were true, then Silco basically gave all the chem-barons fantasy cancer when he pulled his power play stunt back in Season 1. So once again, you guys are SPECULATING and you are INVENTING the severity based on information that isn’t entirely clear to us.

4. Case in point: Viktor. Skye and Viktor are shown playing in the toxic waters outside of a toxic cave. Skye didn’t develop fantasy cancer, but Viktor did. And part of that is likely due to the fact that his immune system was likely more compromised than Skye’s because of his being born crippled. Additionally, he spends a good chunk of his childhood feeding toxic plants to Rio with Singe in the toxic caves to create Shimmer. I have to suspect that that sort of exposure was NOT good for Viktor’s longterm health, wouldn’t you agree?

5. Once again you are using real life chemical warfare to hypothesize about a fantasy chemical and gas. The grey is not shown to spread much at all. Ekko repeatedly says that the air is denser down in the fissures and that results in the grey NOT behaving like normal gas. We see the gas almost snake its way into the buildings like a living thing. And we are shown that just outside of areas where a building is filled with the grey, it does NOT leak out.

This is important information because we are repeatedly shown that Caitlyn’s use of the grey is TACTICAL and STRATEGIC. She pumps it into specific targeted areas to clear the streets and incapacitate the chem barons and their goons. You cannot say that she “gassed the whole city” when the show GOES OUT OF ITS WAY to show that she is targeting SPECIFIC AREAS and that the grey DOES NOT dissipate and flow like normal gas.

So let’s recap what the SHOW presents to us:

The Grey is factory gas (man made) trapped underground. Exposure to the gas makes it very hard to breathe but not impossible. Many people in the show have been exposed to the gas for long periods of time and did not develop fantasy cancer. Everyone who is exposed to it in short bursts is seen recovering within minutes. The gas does not flow like normal gas and does not seem to seep out into the streets. When the grey is detected people DO NOT STAY AROUND it and leave (clear the streets) to avoid dealing with the adverse side effects. And the only person truly affected by the gasses in the fissures to the point that he’s slowly dying is a person who was born crippled and impaired and who willingly exposed himself to more of the danger than normal people did.

So when we look at it from this perspective, Caitlyn using the gas is still bad. She could potentially be hurting people long term, yes. But she’s also using it as a way to prevent more people from being hurt by a massive invasion and is actively using the grey in highly targeted areas. Zaun is MILES large, a single building on one side of the city getting pumped full of grey is not going to harm people miles away on the other side of the city. So this assertion that she “gassed the city” is just hyperbolic and misleading. We are even shown that they don’t even use it in the streets much if at all because they travel through the pipes pumping the grey in themselves.

You should be mad about Caitlyn using the grey. It’s a DIRTY TRICK to use it this way. Absolutely.

But you DON’T need to exaggerate the effects of it and make it seem like she’s fantasy Hitler gassing the city of Zaun like Auschwitz, you weirdos.

#arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane spoilers #caitlyn kiramman #stop exaggerating shit

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shrewsburysworld · 10 hours ago

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✧YANDERE HUSBAND JUNGKOOK✧

Yandere husband Jungkook who married you because he loves you—so much that he can’t bear the thought of anyone else having you. From the moment he slipped that ring onto your finger, you became his, and he made sure the whole world knew it. Love, to him, isn’t just about happiness—it’s about possession, devotion, and a bond that no one can ever break.

Yandere husband Jungkook who can’t see you looking at any other man than him. The moment your eyes linger too long on someone else, his grip tightens around your wrist, a silent warning. His soft-spoken words and gentle smile may fool others, but you know better. His love is all-consuming, and he won’t tolerate even a second of your attention straying from him.

Yandere husband Jungkook who believes that keeping you by his side is the only way to ensure your safety. The outside world is dangerous, filled with people who don’t understand your love, people who might try to take you away. So he makes sure you have everything you need at home—why would you ever need to leave when he can give you everything right here?

Yandere husband Jungkook who whispers sweet words into your ear at night, his arms wrapped around you so tightly that you can hardly move. "You’re mine," he murmurs against your skin, his voice both a promise and a warning. "Forever." And you know he means it—because there’s no escaping a love like his.

Yandere husband Jungkook who spends hours searching for the perfect gift for you, something as precious as you are to him. He wants to see your eyes light up, wants to hear you say his name with that soft, grateful smile. Nothing is ever too expensive, too rare, or too difficult if it means making you happy. Because your happiness belongs to him, and him alone.

Yandere husband Jungkook who sees you naked with someone else on his own bedroom, the gift still clutched in his hands but he doesn’t confront you. His heart pounds violently in his chest, his vision blurs with red, but he doesn’t say a word. He simply watches from the shadows, memorizing the way your body moves, the way you whisper someone else’s name, the way that bastard clings to you asking for a divorce. And in that moment, he knows—this isn’t something he can ever forgive.

Yandere husband Jungkook who starts acting strange, his usual loving touch now laced with something colder, something darker. His kisses linger a little too long, his grip on your waist is just a little too tight. He smiles, but his eyes don’t match. You feel it in your bones—something is wrong. And when you try to reach out to your lover, their phone goes unanswered, their presence erased like they never existed.

Yandere husband Jungkook who watches as realization dawns on your face, your body trembling when you hear the news—your lover is dead. The world around you tilts, your breath shattering in your throat. But when you turn to Jungkook, he’s already looking at you, his dark eyes filled with something unreadable, something terrifying.

Yandere husband Jungkook who never needed to say it out loud, because deep down, you already knew. It was him. It was always him. And as he pulls you into his arms, whispering how much he loves you, how you’re his and his alone, you realize that there was never any escape. Not from his love. Not from him.

Pt. 2??

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winterwhisperz-blog · 19 hours ago

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Ignore how this is my first hc in like…awhile

IM A LIL RUSTY PLS HAVE MERCY

So hi <33 it’s nearing Valentine’s Day which means “omg what would the ts lis do for Valentine’s Day??”

These are far from perfect but I hope you enjoy !! :D

Valentine’s Day In Eridia

Warnings: Rustyyy, a lil suggestive in some of them but nothing too bad, Ais is mentioned to be a lil depressed,and Probably ooc !!

Notes: Gn reader, fluff!

Mhin

Starting with my favorite hshshshs

Mhin isn’t one that usually celebrates things—they don’t see the point. They’re living in an apocalyptic world they need to survive not waste time on chocolates and the stress of making the perfect evening.

But then there’s you…and they end up doing a lot of ‘unnecessary’ things for you even subconsciously.

Despite their grumblings, they do end up finding out how to celebrate.

STAR GAZING !!!! Duh !!

Simple and sweet, just putting aside time for you two to be close and gaze at the night sky.

Butbutbut !! I had an idea !! That may be just utterly silly but I’ll try to make it coherent.

Imagine this okay !

Mhin goes to visit you, shoulders hunched as they try to avoid getting pushed around by the massive crowd. The music is loud, boisterous, too much.

And you realize that when you find them trying to withhold murderous rage in a dark corner.

You had wanted to try out dancing, but you know the crowd in the Wet Wick is going to make that impossible to enjoy. For either just Mhin or both of you if you also don’t like crowds.

So you go to your favorite spot instead. the place you usually watch stars at.

And idk ?? I always pictured that happening on a freaking roof because I personally want to hang out on a roof but you can imagine something different if you want.

The music can still be heard from below, but it’s far more muffled and bearable.

SO !!! okay if this is cringey spare me please LOOK AWAY !

Hem hem…dancing on the roof !!

The music is loud enough for it to not be awkward hshsh-and the moon is out, the stars are clearer than you’ve ever seen them

And it may be silly but it’s the good type of silly okay. The 3 am sleepover type goofy.

You’re having pointless fun. Dancing in a world that’s dying more each day. You’re both cursed beyond a known cure. But you, and surprisingly even Mhin, forget that for a night.

OKAY THAT WAS SUPER LONG MY BAD

Can you tell who my favorite is

Leander

the absolute OPPOSITE of Mhin

He goes ALL out. This is not everyone’s holiday anymore. This is YOUR holiday. His and yours. This day is about only YOU two now.

You open your door and his stupid face is already there with arms holding a mountain of presents.

“Omg how did you afford all this??”

HES RICH !!! STUPID RICH BOY

The presents range from chocolates to a new wardrobe. Especially couple outfits. Especially VALENTINES DAY SPECIFIC couple outfits.

If you’re not comfy with that tho he’d be okay with that too. “As long as people know ur mine it’s fine with me ☺️” *smacks him*

After presents he wants to carry you downstairs. (If ur taller than him you can carry him downstairs. Actually if ur smaller you should still do it. Leander scarf.)

The bloodhounds withhold their dread for the day ahead because he is DOWN SO BAD

Heart shaped breakfast

Pink drinks (don’t drink them)

Love poems

KISSES !

When it’s evening the bloodhounds bust out the violins and candlelight. (When someone goes out of key Leander smiles at them like: 🙂” and they get pulled from the stage.)

Then to finish it all off, he shows off his magic by conjuring a trail of rose petals that lead upstairs.

You wake up the next morning and Leander is like “): you still love me right? Even tho it’s not Valentine’s Day anymore right?”

Ais

Ooooo this is tricky

Ais is very emotion-driven, but he’s not great at expressing those emotions.

He may try to do something classy for you (by Ocudeus’s command because I love that vision)

But it’s obvious he’s uncomfortable and unsure, so you have to tell him you’ll figure out how to celebrate (if you even want to) this day your own way and not what is socially expected.

He mainly just wants you. He wants time with you, to feel you, to hear you and most importantly, relax with you.

You quiet his mind, and so all he really wants is your presence.

Mainly all you do is cuddle, eat together, have a romantic sparing match 🥰✨ and maybe even take a nice bath together.

He loves having his hair washed by you—maybe he even forgets to do it sometimes due to those unseen battles you know he has—and ahh frick I forgot we have cursed hands.

Maybe you wash his hair with your toes idk.

Or wear like those !! Rubber gloves !!

Point is

It’s way more natural with you guys. A domestic routine that you slip so easily into.

It’s a day without any stress, and focused solely on the two of you taking care of each other.

And of course, you don’t forget to get Valentine’s Day treats for all the soulless <33 (especially for Princess because duh)

Kuras

Another toughie!

I can’t decide if he has a hard time because he busies himself with work or since he’s had so many relationships since he’s immortal he knows to set aside that time

To make it easier for me let’s just say he busies himself.

He’s extremely hard on himself so I can picture him thinking he’s undeserving of even celebrating in the first place. (If we’re ignoring him making a cake for Mhin shshsh)

And maybe his heart is just tired.

He’s had lovers, he’s watched them go, and with you? You’re different to him somehow.

He doesn’t know if he should indulge in these feelings. If he can handle the heartbreak again.

Luckily you know Kuras well enough by now to see the guilt and doubt before it digs itself too deep.

With help from Ais, Mhin, and Leander (he inserted himself but also he’s a peacemaker between Ais and Mhin lmaohshs) you manage to convince Kuras to leave the clinic in those there’s hands and just focus on you two.

I like to think Kuras starts out more somber. He’s quiet. Only a small twitch to his brow warns of any building anxieties.

To set the scene more I kinda picture him like ?? As a calmer Julian Devorak in this situation ahshshs just in the way he’s like ‘do I deserve this?’

At one point you take his hands, “Kuras, Talk to me.”

He tries to deny it, to hide it gently and inconspicuously. But you know him. And the Angel can no longer hide his fear from you.

You take him somewhere quiet, where you can sit down and just enjoy each other’s company. Maybe you watch the sunset and like ?? You remind him that you aren’t going anywhere. Not now.

He spends more time just kinda cupping your cheeks, memorizing your face with caresses and soft touches.

When you get home, he wishes to memorize the rest of you too. If you have to become a memory one day, he wants it to be one that consumes him.

Vere

Thought this was gonna be tricky because vere is my ENEMY when it comes to these but !! I actually have a few ideas !!

Doesn’t see the point in sappy old VALENTINE’S DAY

What? You expect him ? A GOD a DEITY to lower himself to a pointless little human tradition?

“You can celebrate me everyday 🙄 why wait ?”

But you know it’s really just because he’s uncomfortable with the idea.

Similar to Ais, he’s more of ‘actions instead of emotions’ and this is a sign of commitment! And he’s still very unsure how to proceed with that sincerely.

And maybe even the day hits some sore spots—if the theory he had a past lover is correct —

He’s just scared. And hiding it by being snarky.

So just give him time to adjust. He does come around. Especially when you don’t start with anything too deep.

You write him small notes. Nothing too sappy but loving. Maybe you add a few puns you know he’ll laugh at.

But then…*evil laugh* after he’s been used to this, and is more comfortable in the relationship—

He spoils you soooo bad

Maybe he even goes overboard with it lmaoshshs.

He turns it into a whole week of just celebrating you. (Not as loudly as Leander, though. He wants to keep it secret so ya know—the Senobium doesn’t ruin it)

Spa day but inside, he wants to see you with any part of his clothes on. He’s far more touchy—he rubs his face on you like a cat HSHSH

And just a looot of time in bed. Doesn’t even need to be sexual, he just wants you close. His treasure. His his his his.

Im becoming a vere girlie and I’m so unwell

OKAY WE’VE REACHED THE END WOOO !!

I hope you enjoyed <33 if this was cringey….🥺 pls don’t murder me I’ll give you ten dollars

#touchstarved game #touchstarved x reader #touchstarved headcanons #touchstarved fanfic #touchstarved #touchstarved mhin #touchstarved vere #Touchstarved Kuras #Touchstarved Leander #Touchstarved Ais #mhin #Ais #vere #Kuras #Leander

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xesnox · 2 days ago

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(Post fall) Ancient builder x Illager toxic old man yaoi when

WIP, was planning on doing a ref for every human race but a mutual of mine practically begged me to post these two on their own so you’re probably gonna see this image again. Colors are not yet where I want them to be so I’ll definitely go over it a few more times.

I’d like to take this moment to point out that the way you summon allays in legends, where you play as an ancient builder, is pretty similar to the way evokers summon vexes.

Design / AU rant below cut, as always.

This one’s a little worse written than usual, I’m just rambling.

I practically have an infinite amount of Ancient builder designs because I draw them differently with every piece depending on how I’m feeling, but for this design I got more genuinely speculative and turned on my pattern recognition.

Steve and Alex are canonically 6’2, both of them, and all undead mobs seem to be the same height, if not taller than they are, so I made them average around 6’5. To add to that, all undead builder mobs either don’t have eyes or have solid coloured glowing ones, so I went with the latter.

Minecraft isn’t a stranger to making lifeforms appearances change drastically depending on circumstance, this render is of an Ancient builder post wither attack, around ancient city time, which meant I could adopt the idea the devs mentioned about villagers/illagers, of human skin turning desaturated if they stay out of the sun for long enough, which, if the single generation of Illagers already show signs of I bet the god knows how many decade long underground escapades of the builders probably hit ‘em hard with that trait.

I also for the longest time for some reason forgot cosmetics were very likely a thing, so they’ve got some protection spells and luck enchantments tattooed, both of them do. Doesn’t work very well, as one can probably guess. But they’re superstitious so it felt in character enough.

For the post wither attack Ancient builders I also tend to think of them as more frail, not only because they had no access to their former overworld food supplies and had to rely on the little stuff that did grow in complete lack of sunlight underground, which definitely wasn’t a lot, but also because beyond the military force that did seem to remain from the nether war (ancient city structure name: Barracks, disk 5 marching.) they definitely were no longer strong enough to properly defend themselves against the wither or the warden/mourner on their own accord.

And because they were cowards and skedaddled when the overworld was in danger AND got beat up by the piglin despite being the main kingdom in power which I just find really funny. So think tall and boney but hiding it under a lot of clothing layers to still appear strong. Definitely can’t put on armor anymore though, that back would snap like a twig.

When it comes to the robes I used some of my older armor template designs for reference, made them black and blue to fit the most well known ancient builder sprite as well as vaguely match the one of the evoker. Because, oh well, you caught me, I do believe the cargo cult theory. Got my own interpretation but I’ll leave it at that till the next bestiary entry.

I generally want the villagers to look more varied, and human, while the builders, both neo and ancient, look more unsettling, as if they’re clearly a person, but something just looks, or moves wrong. They’re too symmetrical. Too far removed from what once was flawed but sincerely their own.

A lot of villager beauty standards are inspired by medieval-renaissance era Europe, like for an example having a larger visible forehead and appearing more boxy in shape being seen as more visually appealing, I think despite the illagers trying to subvert that they do still live in a society, so having grown accustomed to it as children they probably still at-least somehow adhere to the beauty standards they know, whether consciously or not.

They perform similar experiments on themselves as the builders, they’re just ever so slightly worse at it, as they haven’t been doing it for as long, so it leaves marks like scarring or visible stitching, though I believe they wear these with pride.

There’s gonna be a dedicated post about them at some point, as I said so I don’t know how much of my design I want to pick apart for now, but I’ll just leave it at that for now.

Here’s some alternative versions.

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marsdql · 3 hours ago

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Never Really Over [P.SH]

synopsis: No matter how many times you and Sunghoon break up, you always find your way back to each other. Love, obsession, or something darker—you’re too deep to escape, and he refuses to let you go.

toxic!Ex!Sunghoon × Reader | g: Angst, Toxic Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Slight Smut | cw: Toxic relationship dynamics, possessiveness, jealousy, arguments, implied smut, emotional manipulation, obsession, mild cursing | wc: 0.6k | @teddybeartaetae

You don’t want to open the door.

You shouldn’t open the door.

But you do. Because it’s him.

Sunghoon stands there, soaking wet from the rain, his breathing uneven like he’s been running. His knuckles are red, split in some places, like he’s punched a wall—or maybe something worse. His jaw is tight, eyes clouded with something that makes your stomach twist.

Desperation.

“You blocked me.” His voice is hoarse, accusation laced in every syllable.

“I had to.” Your grip on the doorknob tightens. “I can’t do this anymore, Sunghoon.”

He exhales sharply, his head tilting back like he’s trying to keep himself together, but the second his gaze locks onto yours again, you see it—the cracks in his composure, the madness brewing underneath.

“You say that every time,” he murmurs, stepping closer. You step back, but it doesn’t matter. He’s already inside, kicking the door shut behind him like it’s second nature. Like he still belongs here.

Like you still belong to him.

“I mean it this time.” Your voice wavers. “We ruin each other.”

Sunghoon scoffs, his fingers running through his damp hair. “Then why do you still pick up? Why do you still open the door?” He steps closer, his voice dropping lower, rougher. “Why do you still let me in?”

You don’t have an answer.

His hands find your waist before you can move away, fingers digging into you like he’s afraid you’ll slip through them. His touch is possessive, desperate.

“You’re lying to yourself,” he murmurs, his forehead pressing against yours. “Tell me you don’t miss me. Tell me you don’t think about me every night. Tell me you don’t—”

“Stop.” Your voice cracks, and that’s all it takes. His lips crash onto yours, and you break just as easily as you always do.

His kisses are bruising, hungry—like he’s trying to devour you, trying to punish you for ever thinking you could leave. You push at his chest weakly, but he just grabs your wrists, pinning them against the wall, swallowing your protests with another kiss that makes your knees buckle.

“You don’t get to leave me,” he whispers, pressing his body flush against yours. His breath is hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

Tears sting your eyes because you know he’s right.

And that’s the worst part.

You’ve tried. God, you’ve tried. You’ve blocked him, ignored him, sworn you’d never fall back into his arms again—but you always do. Because Sunghoon isn’t just a person to you. He’s an addiction. A poison in your bloodstream that you can’t purge. As much as you hate it, you know you’re the only one allowing yourself to keep going back to him.

“You don’t get to move on,” he breathes, his lips ghosting over your jaw. “You don’t get to forget me.”

“I want to,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

He shakes his head, a humorless chuckle slipping past his lips as he presses kisses down your neck, slow and possessive. “Liar.”

You let out a shaky breath, your hands curling into fists. “We’re not good for each other, Sunghoon.”

“I don’t care.” His hands trail lower, gripping your waist even tighter. “I don’t want good. I want you.”

It’s sick. It’s twisted. But when he lifts you into his arms and carries you to the bedroom, you don’t stop him.

Because he’s right.

It was never really over.

And deep down, you know it never will be.

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in1-nutshell · 2 days ago

Note

Last one I promise (I love all your work so so so freaking much I have so many ideas and I’m trying not to send in too many) but. BUT.

What would the TFP memory loss back to Orion Pax arc with Maxima be like? How would Megs try to spin this in his favor?

Or! Following the nutshell summary ficlet where Maxima loses her memories, what would Megs do to her? Would he try and turn her into a weapon for the Decepticons, knowing what a skilled warrior she is, or would he keep her close by, like he did with Orion?

And what about Optimus! Did he lose his memories and become Orion Pax, or is he still Optimus Prime, and has to deal with his daughter getting taken from him, maybe even turned against him? (We already know that Maxima considers the Matrix to have taken her father from her, would those feelings still linger for Megatron to use???)

Thank you for all your wonderful writing and for sharing those skills with us!

This has been a writing I have been putting off on the sole reason that there are too many outcomes that could come out of this change alone. Decided this one was going to be the main one.

Hope you enjoy!

Maxima looses her memory

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Angst, Mention of injury, Cybertronian reader

TFP

Maxima felt like her helm was being pulled in so many different directions at once.

From getting over the fact the Earth was Unicron.

To wanting to dropkick Optimus for even considering going to fight him ALONE!

To nearly having whiplash hearing that Megatron was coming through the spacebridge.

At this point Maxima swore she was going to punch him just because of how many times she heard his name today alone.

She made sure to stand in between Bumblebee and the kids when the Warlord came through the groundbrigde.

A harden glare bore into Megatron’s helm on realizing who else was in the base.

Megatron: “Well, if it isn’t Prime’s daughter. A fitting reunion, isn’t it?” Maxima stays silent. Raf suddenly comes from his hiding place to stand in front of Megatron. Maxima nearly felt her spark leave her chassis as the other humans came out to get him. She was thankful that the adults managed to get Jakc and Raf back. Miko on the other hand… Miko: “If you even think about going anywhere near her this will be the last thing you will ever see! You can double cross anyone but mine is the face you’ll never forget! Never!” Maxima swiftly scooped her up and held a defensive position, as if waiting for him to make the next move. Megatron: “Ha! It seems as if some training I instilled still remains. Tell me, how many times you have used this exact position on the very bots who have taught you.” Maxima: “Don’t flatter yourself Megatron.” Megatron: “It is simply a complement from a former teacher to a former student.” Optimus then stands in between Maxima and Megatron. The subtle protective stance that had not gone unnoticed by the others. The two leaders stare at each other in silence. Megatron: “Such a waste of potential Prime. She would have made one of the finest Decepticons in my rank. She still can.” Maxima was glad that she managed to carefully cover Miko’s mouth, even with a furious muffle noise coming out of her. Bee whirls in anger now trying to get in front of Maxima while Optimus shifts himself, so he is covering more of Maxima. Optimus: “We did not bring you here for this Megatron. You are only here to assist us in subduing Unicron. That is all.”

Soon enough it was time for everyone to go.

Maxima remembered patting everyone on their heads.

She remembered promising to them that she would keep on optic out for their guardians.

Bumblebee had rhetoric back that he would be watching her back.

Maxima just smiled and fist bumped him.

The monster truck never like caves, especially underground ones.

There were too many dark spaces and unknown depths and rocks around.

Too much like…

No, no time on thinking about her, there was some fighting to do!

Just as Bumblebee had promised, he watched her back.

Bumblebee: “Bep beep! (On your left!)” Maxima easily slashes a bot with her twin axes. Maxima: “Bee on your right!” She blasts the drone on his right. Bumblebee: “Boop! (Showoff!)” Maxima: “I’m not showing off. They are!” Maxima points at Prime and Megatron effortlessly fighting off the enemy in sync. Bumblebee: “Beep. (Yeah, you’re right.)” Maxima: “Always am.” Bumblebee: “Beep! (Hey!)”

The side-by-side fighting doesn’t last long though.

Bumblebee had gone to help Bulkhead and Arcee while Maxima had bolted to Prime and Megatron.

And why wouldn’t she if she saw them both going into a secluded area.

She was not going to let Megatron get any advantage of offlining her father if she was around.

Maxima could make out bits of what Optimus was saying through all the noise in the area.

Soon enough she found herself fighting back-to-back with Megatron.

Maxima shoots a drone in the helm. It was heading to Megatron, key word ‘was’. Megatron flashes her a smirk. Maxima: “Don’t mistake this for me joining your side Megatron. We need you alive for now.” Megatron blasts his fusion canon right by her helm, destroying another drone behind her. She barely flinched. Megatron: “Why my dear, whatever gave you that thought? On your right.” Maxima swings her axe to the right and punches the drone. Megatron: “Your form needs to be more guarded and strike quicker.” Maxima: “The day I ask you for fighting advice is the day I join the Cons, which news flash Megatron, isn’t happening anytime soon! Down!” Megatron sucks down giving Maxima a clear shot to the drone.

Did it feel good to fight alongside her uncle again?

…She would never admit it out loud.

The sound of whirling made her look over to the Prime.

Maxima’s movement staggered a bit at the sight of the Matrix of Leadership.

Too many memories started flooding into her processor.

For once, she was glad to have Megatron’s voice ground her to the battle.

But a sudden harsh tremor shook everyone and everything around.

Two giant rocks had knocked both Megatron and Optimus unconscious as Maxima was barely managing to dodge the falling rocks.

She ran over to Optimus, making sure he was alright.

The Matrix shown bright in his limp servo.

Maybe she could…

Oh, this was a terrible idea, but the only one she had right now.

Maxima grabbed the Matrix from his servos and jumped over the fallen rocks until she reached the front of the core.

She prayed to Primus that the Matrix would open, if no for her, for her family, friends, and everyone who would be affected with the wakening of Unicron.

To her surprise the Matrix opened easily and its energy humming through her and sent a beam straight to the core.

Soon everything went quiet, and Maxima fell, the Matrix bouncing off some rocks near Prime.

Megatron hefted himself up noticing the numerous rocks around and how quiet everything had gotten. He noticed Optimus unconscious a couple feet away. This was his chance! The Warlord hauled himself up and started to his enemy, getting his blaster ready. Another painful groan caught his attention. Maxima was struggling to get up. He watched her sit up, a look of confusion clear as day. She looked over at him with… confusion and relief? Maxima: “Uncle Megatronus? Where are we?” …what…? She tried standing up but let a painful hiss holding her pede. Maxima: “Megatronus what’s going on?” Megatron powers down his blaster and walks to her. He helps her to her pedes while hoisting most of her weight by the waist. Megatron: “We will be alright Maxima.” Maxima takes a closer look at him. Maxima: “Uncle Megatronus what happened to your faceplate? Why are you so pointy?” BLAM! Maxima shrieks and holds onto him like a lifetime. Team Prime was slowly pouring in as Optimus was slowly waking up. Maxima stared at the blasters. Maxima: “Who are they?” Megatron: “They are our enemies! Soundwave activate the groundbrigde.” Maxima: “Soundwave? Where is he? What’s a groundbrigde?” The portal appeared behind them surprising the injured bot. Megatron: “Can you run?” Maxima: “I think so?” Megatron: “Go. I will give us cover.” Maxima looked at him hesitantly before starting to limp and run into the portal. Optimus was conscious enough to see Maxima run through the portal. He struggled to get up with fury in his optics. Optimus: “Megatron! What have you done!” Megatron: “Until we meet again next time Prime!” And with that Megatron ran into the portal.

Optimus has no idea what in the world just happened.

One minute he was holding the Matrix, the next he woke up to see the Matrix a few feet away from him and Maxima looking scared in Megatron’s hold.

According to Bumblebee, she looked scared and confused.

As if she didn’t know who they were.

Optimus retrieves the Matrix, noticing it felt much lighter than usual, and heading out with the rest of the team.

At first the humans were happy to see the guardians alive but quickly turns to confusion and worry when they notice a particular monster truck was nowhere to be found.

Ratchet is the first to ask where Maxima was.

Optimus has a heavy spark when he retells what happened in the cave.

Meanwhile with the Decepticons.

Soundwave had been listening in on Megatron’s open coms the second he was alerted that he was down.

He was the first to greet Megatron and Maxima.

Maxima’s optics went from fear to utter joy when she saw Soundwave.

She ran up to him, grabbing his servo and asking so many questions it left him a bit dizzy.

Many Vehicons were nervous when they saw Maxima on the ship.

He notices them reaching for their weapons and loudly states that Maxima was the latest recruit.

Maxima is confused.

The Con’s are confused.

Soundwave has a feeling he knows what’s going on but needs more context.

Megatron leads Maxima into another room.

Now time for stage two, the backstory.

Megatron goes on a detailed story about the rise of a false Prime and how his side had brought a horrid civil war that ravaged their planet.

Megatron turns to Maxima. There is a look of distraught and fury in her optics. Like father, like daughter apparently. She stands up straighter and smirks at him. Maxima: “Where do I sign up Uncle Megatronus?” Megatron smiles back and places a servo on her shoulder. Megatron: “First thing is first; you will address me as Lord Megatron in front of the others. Second, you are to follow my orders, do not question them, Maxima.” She nods. He gently pushes her to the exit. Megatron: “You will get patched up by our medic, Knockout as well as get the Decepticon insignia.” Maxima: “Decepticons? No offense Megatronu—I mean Megatron, but that makes us sound like the bad guys.” Megatron: “That is a discussion for later.” Maxima: “Wait! You never told me what happened to Orion?” Megatron stopped in his tracts. Oh, Primus he had completely forgotten about that. Maxima’s voice quivered a bit. Maxima: “Megatronus… please tell me he is still online. Please…” Megatron: “…He is offline Maxima. He has been for years now.” Megatron is caught off guard by the sudden tears and hugs. She had done her best to muffle the sobs in his chassis, but it could only do so much. Megatron looked around and hesitantly hugged her back. Maxima: “He can’t be gone… he just can’t…” Megatron: “He is gone Maxima… I am sorry.” He stayed like that until most of the sobs had left her frame and both quietly walked to the med bay for repairs and branding.

Megatron was thankful that Maxima was tired enough to not ask too many questions.

As much as he wanted to place her on the field, he was not going to risk Optimus getting his servos on her.

She would do as the Chief Archivist and decoding relic glyphs for the time being.

The youngling could still decipher the readings almost as quickly as her father.

Good enough to give the Decepticons an edge in finding the rest of the relics.

After enough time passed and loyalty stable, was when the training and missions would start.

As Megatron had said before, Maxima would make a fine Decepticon.

And under his guidance, a fine one she would be.

#maccadam #transformers x reader #bot buddy #tfp #tfp x reader #tfp x platonic reader #maxima

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garricks4thwingqueen · 1 day ago

Text

Be My Valentine Liam Mairi X Gamlyn Reader

Synopsis: Y/N Gamlyn is very much the opposite of her twin brother. Opposite being grumpy and introverted where her brother is fun loving and a prankster. There is one day above all others that Y/N hates the most. To make matters worse she has never had a relationship also very much unlike her brother. She hadn’t even been interested in anyone until her first year at Basgiath, and oddly enough he wasn’t usually the type she thought she’d find herself going after. Will Y/N’s first year at Basgiath change how she feels about Valentine's day? *Takes place during second squads first year at Basgiath*

Word Count: 1648

Trigger Warnings: Middle swearing

Y/N POV

It was the week before Valentine's day and Y/N couldn’t be more miserable as she joined her squad in the dining hall for breakfast. This isn’t a good look on you. Y/N’s dragon Cairdeas chimed into her head. Good maybe I’ll look extra attractive. Y/N chidded back at her dragon and slammed the invisible wall up so maybe she could enjoy breakfast in peace.

“Y/N?” You heard your brother trying to get your attention. “What?” you answered while taking a bite of your breakfast sandwich. “Valentine's day plans?” your brother said with a smirk. “Ugh you guys are seriously talking about that day already?” “It’s next week.” Liam chimed in from across the table. “I’m very much freaking aware that it’s next week.” “I’m taking it you're not a fan?” Liam said with a sly smirk.

“Oh absolutely not. One of her ex’s broke up with her on Valentine's day like three years ago.” Ridoc had answered for you. “Oh that’s really shitty. I’m sorry.” Liam said with a soft smile. Ugh you hated that his sunshineness was effective and his muscles didn’t help either. “It’s ok.” you shrugged; “I just don’t usually look forward to the holiday and usually keep to myself after having an experience like that. I get why he did it, he was two years older then me and going into the infantry quadrant that summer but to do it on Valentines day when you expected a nice date instead-”

“Who is it? Want me to beat his ass for you?” Rhi asked who had quickly become your best friend this year. You shook your head; “No it’s fine. I’m well over it but it just comes back around to sting the feels each year you know?” “Completely get it. We could just do a girls night and play cards in one of our dorms?” Rhi suggested. “Actually yeah that sounds perfect,Rhi. See you guys in battle brief.” You said taking your tray and depositing it where it belonged before heading to class.

Liam POV

“Ridoc.” I said hanging back after the rest of the squad left shortly after Y/N. “Yeah Li Bear?” “Dude how many times have I asked you not to call me that?” “Sorry- sorry.” Ridoc said, gripping his chest in laughter. “You were saying?” He said, trying to sound more serious as I stopped us in the hallway just before the auditorium where the battle brief was held. “I like your sister.” I said flat out not sure how else to say it.

“Yeah no shit, sunshine.” “Excuse me?” “I mean it’s kinda obvious dude but seriously good luck. Y/N’s reserved she hasn’t had the best relationship luck.” “She also hates Valentine's day, correct?” “Correct.” He responded. “What does she like?” “Small gestures. Whatever you do, do not go overbroad or you can kiss my sister goodbye before you even kiss her hello.”

Later that night I started to work on a carving of Cairdeas as well as a small heart. Valentine's day made Y/N miserable and that wasn’t going to settle well with Liam this year.

*A week later; Valentine’s day*

I gave my two carvings another once over and made sure that they were perfect. I made sure to get up early that morning so I could leave surprise number one under Y/N’s door which was the next one down from mine. Which was a note that read:

I know today isn’t your favorite but meet me at the spot where I picked you up after you fell and come have breakfast with me. -L.M.

After sliding the note under the door I went to freshen up and then went to the dinning hall and grabbed the pastries, fruit and juice that were out for this morning and made my way to the fountain in the courtyard.

Y/N POV

You woke up around 5:45 that morning and did your usual routine. As you went to leave your room you noticed the note that was slipped under the door during the night. You smiled as you read the note to yourself. You knew the place that Liam was talking about; during a rainy day in August when you had started to run back inside you had slipped and fell on the old wet cobblestone by the fountain in the courtyard.

You hated this day but something inside of you loved the fact that your friend was trying to make an effort to make the day special for you. You had grown to like Liam during your time at Basgiath probably more than you should. You had been hurt more then once in the past and couldn’t stand the thought of being hurt again especially by someone that you considered a dear friend. But Liam wouldn’t be that type right?

You had reached the fountain and smiled at the breakfast picnic spread before you. Stretching your arm up you tapped on Liam’s shoulder; “Good morning.” You said with a soft smile. “Morning.” He said with a sheepy smile. “I hope this isn’t too much your brother said- and I know it’s winter but.” You cut him off by placing your finger over his lips and shook your head with a smile on your face. “It’s perfect and I don’t care that it's winter and you honestly didn’t have to do anything at all Liam.” He shook his head in response and stepped closer to you, closing the small space between the both of you and placing his hands on your hips. “I wanted to do something special for you, I wanted to make this day-”

You smiled and cut him off again by standing on your tip toes and placing your lips against his. It didn’t take either of you long before you both melted into each other's touch. You didn’t know what you had expected from this day when you woke up, but you knew it wasn’t this. However in this very moment being with Liam was all that you wanted to know.

“Li.” You breathed against his lips after you both broke for air. “Yeah?” He answered softly with a small smile that made you weak at the knees. You giggled as it started to snow heavily around the both of you. “You're so beautiful you know that right Y/N Gamlyn.” “I- no one has ever-.” “What no one has ever called you that before?” He asked cupping your cheek. You shook your head in response; “Well then they are completely idiots but I’m glad I get the honor to be the first one to call you beautiful Y/N Gamlyn.”

You had felt tears start to stream down your cheek. “Hey, hey what's wrong?” he asked softly, wiping the tears away from your cheek. “Nothing.” You breathe softly. “Then why the tears my love?” “I just didn’t expect to ever feel this way, especially not on Valentine’s day.” “A good way?” Liam asked softly as his hands caressed your hips. “Loved and cared for. Yeah a very good way.” You said as you found your lips connecting once more and you felt Liam place something small and wooden into your hands.

You broke away from the kiss to look at the wooden figure of Cairdeas in your hands as well as a little heart. “Liam, this is incredibly beautiful and perfect. Thank you Li bear.” He chuckled softly which gods that was a sound you wanted to hear every morning and every day. “I’m glad you like it my love.” He said softly caressing the back of your neck. You shook your head, “I love it, it’s truly perfect Li.”

“Yeah?” He asked with a soft chuckle. “Yeah.” You answered softly, giggling more as the snow started to pick up. “So much for the picnic.” “It’s winter.” You said still giggling. “Yeah, Yeah Liam said, picking up the tray and kissing your forehead.

You intertwined your fingers with Liams in the hand that wasn't fiddling over your carving from Liam as you both made your way back to the dinning hall and joined your squad for breakfast. They all had huge ass smirks on their face that you half wanted to wipe off their faces but you knew deep down that they were just happy for you and Liam.

Your brother was the first one to get up from the table and wrapped you into a bone crushing hug. You gave up and returned the favor and hugged your twin back. “So you're not going to be miserable this Valentine’s day?” He asked. You smiled and looked over at Liam and answered your brother; “No I think for once I’m not going to be miserable on valentines day.” “I’d like to take credit for my twin’s happiness but I guess that goes to Li Bear.” “Ridoc!” Liam chidded.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you sat down between your now boyfriend and your brother. “No Riddy, You can’t take the credit.” You said as you found yours and Liam’s fingers intertwined as your hands rested on the table.

“Rhi, Vi, rain check for tonight?” You asked as you now just wanted to spend the evening with your boyfriend. “Absolutely. You two have fun.” Rhi said. “But not too much fun.” Ridoc chimed in next to you as you elbowed him in the side. “Ouch! What was that for??” he groaned “Because I’m older and I could.” “5 minutes.” He grumbled. “Still older.” I teased. “Yeah, just don’t scare off my future brother-in-law yet.” Ridoc siad.

“Ridoc!” “What?” He asked innocently. “Let’s just slow down and let Liam and I, be Liam and I yeah?” “Yeah. Just no funny business.” he said in response as Liam chuckled next to you and whispered, “all the funny business.” Into your ear as you giggled and buried your face into the crock of his neck.

You enjoyed listening to the banter of your squad and thought to yourself that maybe today wasn’t going to be so dreadful after all.

#fourth wing fanfic #liam mairi #fourth wing #garrick tavis #xaden riorson #dain aetos

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