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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 2 months ago

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can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 11

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10

Steve waits until everyone’s gone home to open the letter. Chrissy had ribbed him over not sharing but, no matter how supportive she is, she just doesn’t get it—she can’t. No matter what she’s shared, her and Jeff are clearly dating. And even if they hadn’t been, Jeff likes girls. The worst thing that would’ve happened is him turning her down.

With Eddie? The worst thing that could happen is total annihilation.

And Steve’s never been good at holding himself back. He cares fast, and he cares hard, and he can never quite stop, no matter what changes, or how much distance he puts between himself and the other person. Look at Nancy, and Tommy, and Carol, and his parents, and every single relationship he’s had where he’s all in, and the other person never meets him. He doesn’t even need halfway, hell, he’d take a quarter.

But even that’s never how it works out. If there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that Steve Harrington is too much, always.

So, if his fingers shake as he opens the letter, who can blame him?

But, inside is everything he could have ever asked for—Because you’re it, baby. He caresses the words, fingers trembling, heart shuddering in his chest to a beat that sounds a lot like, “maybe, maybe, maybe.”

He knows it’s stupid. This letter isn’t for Steve, not really. It’s Chrissy’s face Eddie pictured when he wrote it, Chrissy’s lips he imagined kissing, Chrissy’s hand he imagined holding. But, it’s hard to remember, when there’s such longing on the page in front of him.

He doesn’t know what to say, thoughts running too fast to pick them out and write them down. He tries, pen stuttering over the page in half-formed sentences, until he’s left with:

Eddie —

You don’t want to know what I

Someone has loved you. I love

I’ll take anything you

Fuck

Hee crumples the letter up into a ball, and tosses it across the room toward the trash bin. He shoots, he misses, he lays down with all the lights still on.

Steve stares down at Eddie’s letter, helpless in the face of the bubbling hope, unwilling to squash it. He folds the letter back up and puts it under his pillow, hoping for dreams, just like Eddie had said.

He doesn’t.

Steve’s tired the next morning, zoning out during class, and shuffling through the halls like a zombie. Chrissy keeps sending him worried looks, and even Robin asks if he’s okay in Mrs. Click’s class, which she was right, they do share.

Steve tells her he’s just tired, and she drops it, but there’s a sad, knowing smile on her face.

It happens at lunch. Eddie jumps up on his lunch table, boots thudding loudly against its metal surface, drawing all eyes in the room toward him. Everyone looks away, familiar with his tabletop rants by now, but Steve can’t look away.

Eddie’s magnetic when he’s like this, a black hole swirling everything up in its path. Steve doesn’t want to miss a thing, barely blinks as Eddie begins the familiar walk across the Hellfire table.

“Forced conformity, folks—it’s what’s killing the kids!” he cries, clapping fast to punctuate the sentence. Across Steve’s own table, Tommy boos, gaining momentum when the people around him laugh and join in. “Oh, don’t act so high and mighty, Hagan, you’re the worst of all.”

He’s grinning, but it’s not the dimpled one. He’s just baring his teeth, a predator scenting blood. “You’re all so focused on shooting balls in laundry baskets, like that’s all there is, but guess what? You’re going to be a washed-up has-been before you’re even out of this school.”

He takes a few steps forward, eyes straying from Tommy farther up the table, making it clear he’s talking to all of them. “You don’t realize that daddy’s money’s gonna dry up, and you’ll be left with a wife and three kids you don’t even like, reliving the old glory days like they were even worth remembering.”

“Come say that to my face, Munson!” Tommy cries, standing up from the table as the rest of them egg him on.

Eddie makes a little rock and roll symbol and smirks, like that’s exactly what he wanted Tommy to say. “And you know what? That’s all you’ll deserve for the shit you’ve pulled. A sad lonely life with your sad flaccid dick.”

And suddenly, he’s looking right at Steve, gaze piercing straight through Steve and into his soft, squishy underbelly. There’s blood in the water, and by Eddie’s laugh, he can taste it. “You’ve earned it,” he says, not even blinking, his eyes so intense Steve can’t breath with it. “After all, once a jock, always a jock.”

Chrissy links their fingers and squeezes his hand beneath the table. Steve blinks, spell broken as he squeezes her back in thanks. He looks down at his remaining chicken nuggets, appetite gone.

“You okay?” Chrissy asks, barely audible with all the continued heckling.

Steve glances up just in time to watch Eddie jump down from the table and plop his ass down like none of it happened at all. He’s laughing as Jeff and Gareth pat his back, but he looks deflated, like the whole spectacle took everything out of him.

“I will be,” Steve replies, pushing his lunch tray away.

If nothing else, he has something to write now.

***

Eddie can’t get the look on Harrington’s face out of his mind. He’d been at the top of his game, riling the jocks up enough that Hagan had jumped up like a jack-in-the-box. But, then he’d looked at Harrington, and it’d all gone wrong.

The guy was drooping into himself, mouth down-turned, eyes like a kicked puppy. Eddie stuttered, got caught up in him, something unnameable stuck in his throat. Eddies doesn’t even know what he’d said after that, couldn’t hear himself think much less speak, until Harrington finally looked down at the tabletop and their eye contact broke.

Now he’s stumbling over his words, trying not to even look Harrington’s way as he finishes off his speech. It lacks the usual oomph, but Eddie doesn’t care; he just wants the whole thing to end.

Eddie stumbles down into his chair, shuddering through his smile as Gareth and Doug elbow him in the side, ribbing him good-naturedly. He chokes out a laugh, and doesn’t look at the jock’s table for the rest of lunch.

The next time he sees Harrington, there’s another complication to contend with in the form of Robin Buckley, best known for her proficiency on the trumpet and quirky outfits. And now? She’s best known for attaching herself like a barnacle to Harrington’s side.

Except, if she was a barnacle, Harrington might at least try to shake her off. But, no. He just smiles at her, and whispers with her, as she inserts herself between Chrissy and Harrington like she belongs there.

Chrissy, for her part, seems to like the girl as well.

Eddie doesn’t get it, can’t comprehend what the hell’s happening, and it makes something squirmy and viscous sink into his stomach every time Buckley inserts herself between the pair, every time they smile at her.

But, they still stop to talk to him in between classes, so Eddie tries to drop it.

“It just doesn’t make sense!” Eddie cries, phone clutched to his ear, not even letting Gareth get a word out before he’s continuing the conversation Jeff had rudely interrupted by showing up to lunch. “What the hell is Harrington’s deal?”

“Dude, you’re like, obsessed,” Gareth replies, clearly talking around a mouthful of whatever after-school snack he’d chosen this time.

“Is he trying to date every girl in school at the same time?” he whines, yanking on his hair hard enough that his scalp tingles.

“You’re just jealous,” he replies, and that same squirmy feeling makes Eddie wriggle his whole body, like there’s a chill in the air.

Is the heater on the fritz again?

“Of who?” Eddie screeches before quieting down, peeking into the living room to make sure Uncle Wayne hasn’t stirred. He hasn’t, but Eddie still keeps his voice lowered as he continues hissing into the receiver. “Of Harrington? Don’t be absurd.”

Gareth laughs, “I don’t know, man, but this whole thing is just getting weird.”

“I know, right? What are they up to?” Eddie asks, ignoring Gareth’s muttered “not what I meant,” like he hadn’t said anything at all.

He never figures it out because Buckley never comes around—not to band practice, or Hellfire, or any of the other times Chrissy and Eddie (and Harrington) are in the same place. Eddie should be relieved. He’s not.

Everything is spiraling out of his control.

But, the letters keep coming, and Eddie keeps devouring them

Eddie —

I really liked your tabletop speech this week, even though you made fun of the jocks. Some of them definitely deserve it. Do you hate all of them, or just the bullies?

You laughed, but it wasn’t your real laugh like when Mr. Danver accidentally said ‘orgasm’ instead of ‘organism’. I love your laugh, I thought about it all day. Kind of like when your favorite song gets stuck in your head.

I know I’ve said it before, but I do really like you. But, if you knew me, I don’t think you’d like me. It’s okay, though. I’m stupid like that—always putting my whole heart into people who don’t feel the same.

I’m sorry, this is probably not the letter you hoped to get. I’ll be better next time, promise.

Yours,

Your Secret Admirer

P.S. Put your response in the World Atlas, the long one that they have to put sideways on the bookshelf (because no matter where you are, I’ll always think of you).

They all make something flutter within him like his lungs are growing wings and flapping themselves out of his body entirely. Even as it leaves him breathless and aching, he wants more of it, longs for it.

It’s just—she sounds so sad, lately, like she’s losing hope in this at all.

All Eddie wants to do is reassure her. So, he keeps writing back, pulling his heart off his sleeve and flinging it down on the page for Chrissy to read, hoping he’ll somehow see those same feelings reflected in her eyes.

He never does.

So, he pokes; he wheedles; he pines for a girl on a page that never quite stands before him. And he pours it all onto the page.

Secret Admirer,

I don’t think it’s all jocks—you’re too nice for that. But even you have to admit that a lot of the jocks are only doing it to be at the top of the food chain. Guys like Carver and Harrington Hagaon? They don’t even care about sports, they just want peons to fawn over them. But, there’s people like you, too, so maybe more of them are better than I expect.

I can’t imagine knowing who you are and not liking you. You’re the nicest girl I know. You don’t have to tell me who you are, but if you do? I promise, it’ll all be okay.

Yours, always,

Eddie

P.S. You don’t have to “be better,” baby. I just want you to be you. That will always be enough for a guy like me.

It’s not enough—something is breaking open in him that words on the page can’t quite mend.

“I’m going to ask her out,” Eddie says once Harrington and Chrissy have left the latest Hellfire session, still inexplicably coming despite never playing.

Jeff chokes on his sip of soda, coughing harshly enough that some of it comes out of his mouth and splatters onto the table.

“Gross, dude,” Doug says, but still pats his back like he’s burping a baby.

“Are you serious?” Gareth asks, tone disbelieving.

Eddie makes crazy eyes at him, trying to psychically beam all his thoughts into Gareth’s head like, yes I’m serious, and, you know about the notes, why are you looking at me like that, and, what the hell else am I supposed to do to crack this mystery wide open?

“That is such a bad idea,” Jeff cuts in once he’s got his coughing under wraps.

Eddie whips towards him, scowling at his best friend as he replies, “you’re just jealous.”

Jeff sighs, heaves himself out of his chair, says a quick, “whatever, dude,” and walks out of the room without a backward glance.

“Aren’t you his ride?” Doug asks.

Eddie flaps his hand in dismissal and replies, “forget about him,” despite his gut sinking down into his boots at Jeff’s words.

“Well, how are you going to do it?” Gareth asks, the only one of his friends to seem even remotely excited.

Eddie keeps flapping his hand and replies, “never you mind.”

That even gets Gareth to scoff, knowing Eddie well enough to know that means he’s got nothing.

But there’s a thought niggling away at his brain: why not finish this thing the same way it had begun?

On his way out the door, he drops his latest letter to Chrissy into the trash bin and doesn’t look back. He’s got a new letter to write.

***

“You know this is juvenile, right?” Jeff asks.

Chrissy pulls the world atlas off the shelf with a roll of her eyes.

Her and Steve had fought about him picking up the letters alone, and Chrissy had won the way she always does when it comes to matters of his safety. He’s sulking in the parking lot now, waiting for her to retrieve it for him.

But, there’s no letter behind the cover. She flips through the whole book, then shakes it, pages flapping wildly, to see if anything falls out. Nothing does. No note, at least not yet.

Steve will be disappointed.

“They’re boys, of course it’s juvenile,” Chrissy says, turning away from the shelf to make pointed eye contact.

If boys are stupid, Jeff is the stupidest of them all. She thinks she can see a tinge of red to his dark cheeks that makes her smile. Chrissy turns away to pick up her book bag where she’d left it on the closet table.

“There’s no letter?” Jeff asks, sounding surprised.

Chrissy sighs, responding, “not yet. I’ll have to check back tomorrow.”

Steve will be crushed. He’s been weird about the letters since he’d begun writing the first drafts alone. Even with the minor polishing Chrissy puts on them after, they’re Steve’s words and feelings, no matter what Eddie thinks. And it shows in the way he takes them home and pours over them for days before slinking back to her with the original letter and his response, cheeks rosy as she fixes his spelling errors.

“Eddie’s planning on asking you out, you know,” Jeff says.

There’s a clatter behind one of the shelves, but Chrissy barely notices. “He said that?” she asks, turning sharply toward him, hand still clutching her book bag.

Jeff nods, lips pursed. God, what are they going to do? This whole thing has spiraled so far out of either of their control. Chrissy had known when she offered that there was a chance Eddie would catch on—that he’d see her leaving a note, or catch her picking one up.

Better her than Steve, she’d thought then. No matter the awkward situation she’s found herself in, she still thinks that, even more so now. Better her than Steve. Steve, who’s proven himself kinder than she ever imagined, who would be run out of town, her ex-boyfriend at the head of the mob.

Chrissy can hear someone shuffling out of sight, feet shuffling on carpet far too close for comfort, so she steps closer to Jeff and lowers her voice.

“Do you know when?” Chrissy asks, anxiety leaching into her. She needs to talk to Steve. Flirting with Eddie is one thing, but going on a date with him? Going out with him? That’s a whole other monster.

And then, of course, there’s Jeff.

“No, he hasn’t told me anything,” he replies, something small and hurt in his voice.

Chrissy’s never had a best friend, but Steve’s given her a little taste of it, and she’d be hurt if he didn’t tell her something like this.

“He’s probably embarrassed,” Chrissy says, aching to reach out and touch, but they’re in public, and Jason could be lurking behind any corner; the last thing she wants is to put a target on another person she cares about’s back. “You’re still his best friend.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he sighs, but when she bumps their shoulders together gently, his lips quirk up.

He smiles over at her, bumping their shoulders together himself as he asks, “drive me home?” as if it isn’t a foregone conclusion. “And stay for dinner?”

That gives her pause. She can feel her cheeks flushing. Despite taking the next step in their relationship, Jeff’s never invited her in, not where his parents and brother are. They haven’t even really discussed what they are, not with this whole secret admirer thing hanging over their heads like the Sword of Damocles.

But she wants to. She wants to hold his hand in the halls, go to his house for study dates and dinner, kiss him somewhere where they don’t have to be furtive.

It’s all stolen moments with Jeff, kisses and conversations made in haste when all she wants to do is linger. So, she says, ��yes, please,” and bounces out into the parking lot.

Steve isn’t there, and neither is his car.

“Maybe he went home?” Jeff asks, but he looks just as unsure as she feels.

“We’ll call him when we get to your house,” she asserts. She’s relieved when all he does is nod and follow her to her car.

She’s got a best friend to find.

***

Robin knows something’s gone wrong as soon as she sees that dangerous gleam in Carver’s eyes. She knows whatever it is, it’s about to go catastrophically wrong when she follows his line of sight to where Eddie stands chatting away with one of his friends.

Still, she stands frozen, watching in breathless horror as Eddie waves goodbye to his friend, that familiar happy grin on his face as he slides into the driver’s seat of his van. Heavy music blares from the rolled-down window as his van sputters to noisy life.

When she turns back to get her eyes on Carver, he’s gone. She spots him only as Eddie peels out of the parking lot, Carver’s douchey car hot on his heels.

Robin turns and runs back into the school. She’d spotted another douchey car still loitering in the parking lot; Steve’s in here somewhere.

She checks the library first, knows from previous confessions that it’s where he and Chrissy work on most of the secret admirer notes. It’s deserted aside from a scattering of freshmen in one corner, and Nancy Wheeler arguing with the librarian about a text the library doesn’t seem to have.

She finds herself in the gym next, unsure if any sports are currently in season, but nice guy or not, Steve’s got jock sensibilities. He likes the gym. There’s a singular kid shooting baskets, but based on the rack of balls off to the side, there might have been more.

She goes to the boy’s locker room without thinking, pushing the swinging door open with sweaty palms and shaking arms.

Inside, she finds boys, all blessedly dressed.

“Ohhh!” they call juvenilely as she stands there, shocked as four pairs of eyes lock on her.

“Girl in the locker room!” someone calls; she’s pretty sure that’s Tommy Hagan’s smug voice, but she barely notices, too caught up in trying to find her boy in the mess of bodies.

“Steve,” Robin strangles out.

Her skin feels tacky with panic sweat, and in the past five minutes of searching, she’s run her fingers through her own hair enough times to leave it sticking on end. She’s sure she looks more like a troll doll than an enticing member of the opposite sex.

“He already left,” a guy she doesn’t recognize responds, eying her up and down. “But I’d be more than happy to help you out.”

As if his meaning wasn’t already clear, he bites his lip and swipes his lip like he’s wiping up drool as all the other boys start “ooooh”ing in unison again. Is that something they’re taught in elementary, or something?

She doesn’t wait for them to continue, just turns and runs out of the locker room, panic nipping at her heels.

She runs back out to the parking lot, out of places to check and desperate to not miss Steve leaving.

That’s where she finds him, leaning casually against his car like Eddie’s life isn’t at stake.

She runs so fast, limbs uncoordinated and breaths coming rapid, that she doesn’t stop in time and hit’s Steve straight in the chest.

She bounces off, almost falling to the pavement until he grabs her shoulders and steadies her. Steve’s hands feel big on her shoulders, the pressure of his palms pushing her soul back into her body as she takes big, deep gulps.

“What’s wrong, Bobby?” he asks, already looking at her like she’s a wet puppy he’s ready to scoop into his arms and dry off with the shirt on his own back.

There’s too many witnesses, and too many damning words to be said, so all she whispers is, “you need to go, Steve.”

He wrinkles his nose, but something of the gravity of her words must sink in because he leans in without hesitation and meets her pitch as he asks, “where?”

Robin steps even closer, damn-near standing on Steve’s toes as she begins her stilted explanation.

“Jason Carver followed Eddie’s van in his car,” Robin starts, words blurring into each other in her haste to get them out. “I don’t know what he’s planning, but—“

She doesn’t get to finish; Steve bolts to the driver's side door and flings himself into his car without sparing her a second thought. She can’t blame him.

Robin only hopes he makes it in time.

PART 12

#koko's steddie secret admirer au #steddie #my fic #it's getting messsssyyy. well messier

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petpenname · 9 months ago

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Heartache

pairing: Ellie Williams [brother's best friend] x fem reader c.w. : smoking summary: you have had your eyes on your brother's best friend and band member forever, but you'd never think she would actually talk to you? a/n: this was a submission + I'll make more parts if it gets a good response!

The air in your room hangs heavy with humidity. A slight breeze from your open window blows through, fluttering your various posters and decor hanging on your walls. And over you, sprawled across your bed, flipping through social media, you were honestly bored out of your mind. Three weeks into summer and your closest friend was away for vacation, leaving you alone… and bored.

Cycling through your socials again you get fed up with the lack of entertainment and toss your phone on the floor with an exacerbated sigh. You lay on your bed, wondering what you should do to fill the void of dopamine when the sound of music begins to fill the house. A mixture of rock, indie, and midwest emo songs rang out from your garage, conveniently positioned directly under your room.

Your brother's band got around to practicing, you assumed. You didn’t even realize your brother was home, he had gone out earlier this morning after your parents left for work. The music got louder and you suddenly had an idea of what you wanted to do, and it wasn't staying here and listening to your brother's shitty garage band. You gather your sketchbook, some pens, headphones, and a few other things into a bag, throw on a hoodie and a pair of shoes and head downstairs. You were headed to a river spot in the woods near your house. It was a commonly frequented spot by you, and your friends but not known to many. Perfect for a little seclusion and wading in cool water.

You walk down stairs and almost instantly are hit with the strong earthy smell of smoke. You linger for a second and decide that your trip would be improved with a joint, hoping your brother would front you something, you enter the loud garage.

Your brother and his band mates, all two of them, were unaware of your entrance. They were playing as loud as possible (maybe not as well as possible) but they were producing sound! Your brother slamming away on the drums while the guitarist, and bassist/singer were in their own worlds.

“Hey!” you yell over the trio.

“HEY KAI!” You shout once more at your brother. Who, without skipping a beat or stopping, yells back.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

This got the attention of the other two band members who did stop upon seeing you standing there, amps silencing to white noise feedback.

“Can I get a joint?” you ask.

“You got money for a joint?” Kai laughs.

“Can you just front me one?” you reply back flatly

“Why should I?”

“If you give me one I wont tell mom you were smoking in the house again.” You counter.

“It’s the garage so technically not the house and whatever you know they wont do anything”

“She can have one of mine?” a voice sparks up behind Kai, drawing your attention to the guitarist. A girl named Ellie. She and Kai had been longtime friends and bandmates. You barely knew anything about her other than she was in Kai’s grade, one above yours, but you knew her. You knew her eye color, her favorite flannel she wore a little too often. You knew she got a new guitar last year, and a fresh tattoo this year that shined under the garage light as she held up a joint in your direction.

You also knew that this was one of the only times she had ever spoken to you. Not like you were around each other often but you almost felt like she would try to avoid you when she was over. Shocked, but with adrenaline pumping you took your chance, walking over to Ellie. She still had her guitar hanging around her, flannel sleeves rolled up, her hair was a bit disheveled from playing, strands falling out of her half up hair do.

She hands you the joint with a sideways smile, and her eyes glint a bit.

“Thanks, you’re so much nicer than my brother” you scoff, giving her a smile back. You turn to leave, flipping off Kai as you bound out the door, leaving the band members commotion in the garage. Not seeing Kai chuck a drumstick at Ellie who dodges it with a laugh.

The success of getting a joint over shined the butterflies fluttering in your stomach from that look she gave you. The sun hit your face as you got outside and you were only looking forward to your solo date in the forest.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was setting slowly, but from where you were in the woods shade had taken over your spot. You had smoked, worked on your art, and walked along the water looking for rocks. Hanging out in the forest for a few hours always rejuvenated you in a way you couldn’t explain. But you started to get cold and decided now was a good time to head home. While packing up you realized you had pretty bad cotton mouth from the joint, so you planned to stop by the corner store.

It wasn’t a long walk but by the time you got to the corner store it was dusk. Street lights started sparking up like stars in the night sky. You opened the glass door and walked in, perusing the aisles for any snack or drink that could satiate your munchies. You were contemplating between an iced tea or a soda when the doorbell rang as someone walked in the store. You barely noticed the bell, or the girl walking up behind you until she spoke.

“Did you enjoy your smoke?”

You jump, previously lost in your thoughts, you turn around to see Ellie standing there. She was wearing a hoodie now, her guitar in its case strapped to her back.

“Oh my god you scared me!” you say, almost dropping the bottles in your hands.

“Sorry! Didn't mean to!” Ellie laughs, moving around you to open the fridge door next to you and grab a coke. “Funny running into you here” she says, a little awkward you note.

“I mean my house is only a few blocks away,” you laugh.

“Mm ya i guess so, you getting both of those?” Ellie looks down at the bottles in your hand.

“Oh um, I'm getting this one.” you hold up the iced tea & go to put back the soda. Before you could think Ellie takes the iced tea from your hand and starts walking towards the front of the store.

“Hey wait!” you look at her confused.

“Oh do you want something else princess?” Ellie turns back to look at you with a smirk.

Sparks ignite in your stomach, confused but now flustered, your mind swirling. You finally get a word out, “no, just that” and Ellie turns back to walk towards the cash register.

You follow her, not really knowing what to do or how to act. Ellie and you had barely spoken to each other before this. And now she's acting so casually around you, and what did she call you? Everything happened so fast you barely caught it but reflecting back now, did she call you princess?

Ellie pays for the two drinks and you walk out together, taking your ice tea from her once outside.

“Thank you, you didn't have to do that” you say, unscrewing the top and taking a refreshing sip.

“Don't mention it” Ellie says, “So are you going back home now?”

“Mhm yeah, what about you?”

“Yeah I was, but it's getting dark now, i’ll walk you back home first” Ellie says with a smile.

“Who said chivalry was dead” you joke, it was a nice gesture, as much as you were confused by Ellie’s sudden intentions you couldn’t help but feel a type of way when she looked at you. Her green eyes danced over your face like she was memorizing your features. You wondered if she always looked at you this way?

She had. Ellie for the past few years had been keeping such a distance from you because when you were around she felt her whole body tense up. She felt like she was on fire if you looked in her direction. And god help her if she tried to speak around you, she ended up tripping over her words and losing her train of thought. Truthfully, she didn't know what magical queer fairy blessed her with the confidence to talk to you today. But she had taken in a chance earlier in the garage, and when she saw you in the store she knew it wasn't a coincidence.

The walk back to your house was short, only a few blocks. You and Ellie joke together and talk about summer plans in the meantime. Both of you slightly high still, making your balance shifty, occasionally you would brush shoulders, sending sparks down each other's spines.

When you get to your house you stop at the walk way, a little awkwardly since you knew Ellie had been in your house before.

“Thanks for walking me home! And buying me this, um and the joint '' you say, taking in all of Ellie’s courtesy today, a little unsure what to do with yourself.

“Any time!” Ellie says with a smile, she fidgets where she stands for a second before reaching her hand up to your face. She tucks a small strand of hair behind your ear, without breaking eye contact.

“Have a good night y/n” and with that she turns around and walks away, putting up her hood.

She left you solidified on the sidewalk, body unmoving but nerves on fire with a simple touch. You float for the next hour or so, barely registering going into your house and up to your room. Trying to make sense of what had just happened, and why now? And why so suddenly?

Later that night you receive a notification on Instagram

* @www.ellie followed you *

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #ellie williams smut #ellie smut #the last of us

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am-i-interrupting · 1 month ago

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Across the River | Viktor x Jinx’s Older Sibling

Chapter 2: Quiet

Summary: After the explosion and disappearance of Vi, you take your little sister across the river to Piltover. You struggle to keep the two of you afloat but manage to get Jinx to the academy. This is where she procures an internship that changes your lives.

Viktor tapped his pen against his chin. Something was missing. He looked at the equations and written in his notebook and everything was correct. So what was wrong?

“You’ve been staring at that page for ten minutes,” Jayce said.

It clicked in the silence that followed after.

“Have you heard from our assistant today?” he asked.

Jinx was normally bouncing around the lab. She was always jittery. Something always moved on the girl, whether her whole body or just her foot tapping against the tiles of the floor. A light tap of the steel toe, which curled just barely to the bottoms of her shoes, against the ceramic of the tiles would ring all throughout the day. She was often humming even as she read Viktor and Jayce’s old notes to gain further understanding of the Hextech of today.

It’d been quite today. Abnormally so with her absence. Viktor offhandedly questioned when her noise had become the norm when it was for so often and so long the opposite.

Often times she stayed just as long as he did. Mourning and groaning as he locked the lab late some nights that she couldn’t stay longer. However, as he often reminded her, she was still in school and thus not allowed to remain with Hextech equipment unsupervised. Neither mentioning that she would stay awake in the early mornings, youth on her side, when he fell asleep at his desk.

“I- huh, no, I haven’t,” Jayce said.

“How unlike her.”

She’d only missed one day in her two month internship. This day having been warned a week and a half in advance for some undisclosed reasons. When Jayce laughed at how antsy she’d been, making sure it was okay that she missed a singular day, she was twisting her fingers together then suddenly stopped. She exhaled from her nostrils with false humor and Viktor was the one of the two who heard her mutter beneath her breath about how she wanted to keep her internship.

He leaned back in his seat. He used a foot to scoot back from the desk enough to open a drawer. He thumbed through the files until he found the one labeled ‘Jinx’

He opened it.

First Name: Jinx

House Name: None

Gender: Woman

Age: 17

All of this information he already knew. He flipped through the pages detailing her schooling and academic prowess. He then found the page detailing her guardian, where he hoped the information he sought would lay. There it was.

“I’ll be back,” Viktor said as he grabbed his crutch and started walking towards the door.

Jayce looked at him with furrowed brows but did nothing else to question him.

Typically, Viktor would likely say it’s inappropriate or a cross of boundaries. However, he would admit he’d grown found of the girl.

She was loud and chaotic but she reminded Viktor of himself. A stark contrast to him but not so different really.

She often lost herself in work very similarly to how he did. In a way Jayce didn’t truly understand. Yes, Jayce was passionate but he was also concerned with things neither of them were.

She’d peered over his shoulder at notes multiple times and pointed at equations with her own pencil. All she would say was that it didn’t look quit right and walk away. He did the exact same thing to her.

Those late nights in the lab were often times filled with her standing at the chalkboard, writing down ideas bounced off one another.

Jayce was his partner. Jinx was more so like a shadow. A very loud, hyperactive shadow but one nonetheless.

He stepped out of the taxi he’d hauled down in a less well off part of Piltover. It was close to the border between it and the Undercity.

The houses were still miles above what he grew up with down there, both metaphorically and literally, but he knew this was not a part of Piltover the upper class looked at in a bright light.

He walked down the road to a small apartment complex. He pushed open the door to the building and scanned the lower floor. He was looking for the number 07. It didn’t take long for him to find the right door.

He raised his fist and knocked.

A moment later the door opened to reveal a figure shorter than him with deep purple or perhaps blue hair. “Can I help you?” you asked in a curt tone.

“I apologize if I have the wrong home, however, I am from the Hextech corporation. I was looking for a young woman named Jinx, is she here?”

“What’s it—“

“Is that Viktor?” Jinx’s voice, though a bit hoarse, sounded in question.

A hand appeared on your shoulder, fingernails painted pink and blue, which gently guided you back.

“Oh, hey,” Jinx said as she came into view of Viktor.

Her hair was not in the usual bun Viktor was used to seeing it in but instead let down in two long braids which pooled at the ground. Her attire was baggy and old, clearly for comfort.

It was her eyes and nose that Viktor noticed most. Both red, irritated, and puffy. Her lips were pale in contrast. Though Viktor had no frame of reference if that was their usual color as she always had them painted a muted purple tone but assumed they were more so pale than usual.

“Do you need me to come in?” she asked as she pulled one of her braids over her shoulder and began running her hands over it. “I would have come in this morning but I wasn’t feeling sick and I didn’t want to get you sick, well sicker and so I thought it’d be best if I stayed home but I can come in if—“

“No,” you said. “You’re not going anyway except bed.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Viktor said. “We don’t need you in the lab, though you’re always a pleasure to have. It is just out of character for you to miss so I thought I would come check to make sure you’re alright.”

“Oh.” Jinx’s shoulders dropped and her hands stopped. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Now go and lay down,” you told her.

“Yeah, um, it was nice seeing you, Viktor,” Jinx said with a small wave before she turned and walked over, sniffling as she did.

You exited the apartment, the door creaking closed behind you.

You looked at the man before you, the Viktor Jinx would go on about, one of the two creators of Hextech.

He wasn’t what you expected. He had cheekbones that were beginning to become an unhealthy level of sharp. Permanent bags were beneath his eyes, framed further by a mole under one. His hair was unkempt and wavy, falling in his face slightly. Not at all what you exited.

He was almost akin to the type of people you grew up around. Tired and sickly.

“I’d say I’d invite you in but that would be a lie even if she wasn’t sick,” you told him. “Nothing personal, I just don’t like people in my space. I’m Jinx’s older sister.”

“Pleasure to meet you. She speaks highly of you,” he said.

You snorted. “Yeah, right, I find that hard to believe.”

Viktor made a noncommittal noise. His lips moved mutely for a moment before he settled in saying, “She speaks fondly of you, mostly.”

“That’s more likely. I’d offer you a ride but I don’t have an automobile and she’s a baby when she’s sick. You got here by yourself, you can get back?”

“I am more than capable,” Viktor said as he shifted some of his weight off his cane.

You took note of that. “I’m a jackass,” you said bluntly, “but I’d be saying that to anyone. Well, not anyone but anyone Jinx likes so much. She’s constantly worried about impressing you two. Don’t want to give her any more reason to.”

“I understand completely. When I first made my way to Piltover, I was much the same.”

“You not from here?”

“From across the bridge,” he said.

“Ah. Nice to know some people make it up top,” you said. “Anyway, I’m going to make sure she didn’t pass out in the hallway. Good day, Viktor.”

“Good day to you as well.”

You went back inside. Viktor stood for a moment, looked around the empty hall, and then proceeded to take his own leave.

If you like this story, consider helping me continue to be able to post through looking at my mobility aid wishlist if you have the money to spare.

#viktor arcane x you #viktor x you #viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader

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coldfanbou · 8 months ago

Text

Manor: Away At Last

We return to find ourselves having some doubts before Nayeon intrudes on us, and then we make the big leap.

Length 2K

Nayeon X Mreader

With Umji sleeping on your chest, you figured now was the best time to go. You pull her off your cock; small groans escape her lips as you place her in front of Taeyeon. The older woman wraps her arms around Umji, becoming the big spoon as they begin to cuddle in their sleep. You look around Taeyeon’s room for a paper and pen, sneakily looking through her drawers. They were filled with clothes as you had expected, but you found other things as well; a dildo is the most interesting thing, but eventually you find a notepad and pen. You pen out your feelings to Taeyeon before putting on your clothes and leaving her room.

You look around the halls; no staff are around at the moment, so you rush to your room. Along the way, you spot Moonbyul and pull her along with you. “Hey! What’s going on?” She yelled.

“How long until we can leave?” You ask, pulling her into your room. “Taeyeon and Umji are asleep right now. I need to know when we can leave.”

“It’s better if we leave in the evening or at night; it’s only a few hours away. So calm down and make sure you have everything. Besides, I’m sure that cock of yours was enough to put them down for a least a little while longer than we need.” Moonbyul says cooly. “Make sure you have everything you need because there’s the chance you never come back. I still have my phone; I’ll message you when it’s time.” Moonbyul heads for the door, opening it slowly as she looks your way. “Oh, and don’t forget about your lover. You two better come together because I’m not waiting around.”

“Right,” You sigh before walking over to your bed and sitting on the edge. The door closes, and you’re left alone in your room. Looking around the room, you recall all the time you spent here. You shake your head and grab the backpack, ensuring you have everything you need and all essential documents. You doubt yourself for a moment, unsure of how you should proceed, when a knock at the door grabs your attention. Looking at the doorway, you see Nayeon standing there with her own bag. “Come in, Nayeon.” She does so, slowly shutting the door to make the least amount of sound and leaving her bag by it before sitting on your bed beside you.

“So, I guess we’re leaving today.”

“Yeah, we are.”

Nayeon glances at you before patting her lap, “Rest your head; I know you have a lot on your mind.” You give Nayeon a hesitant look, and she responds with a deadly serious expression, practically ordering you to lay your head on her lap. When you do, you see her expression soften, a slight smile spreading across her face. You stay like that for some time before either of you decide to speak. “It’s really a lot, huh? Leaving everything behind. It’s scary.”

“You’re telling me,” You respond, focusing on the doorway.

“I don’t know how many hours you and I spent here. And now, we’re just going to leave it all behind.” Nayeon runs her hands through your hair. They’re shaky, and you know she is trying to calm down.

You raise yourself slowly and grab Nayeon’s back, pulling her back onto the bed. “Nayeon, I can feel your hands shake when you do that. You’re more nervous than me.” She just nods her head. She places her hands on your arm and pushes her body into yours. You feel her thin frame rub against you. The scent of her perfume hit your nose, a slightly sweet lavender smell.

As much as you didn’t want anything from her at this moment, your body reacted to Nayeon’s as she rubbed against your crotch. She felt as much. “I’m sorry, Nayeon.” You try to pull away from her, but only for Nayeon to hold your hands.

“N-no. Don’t go,” she says sheepishly, turning her head slowly over her shoulder. “Do you think we could do it one more time?” You give her a confused look, wondering why she wants to do it now. Nayeon casts her eyes downward, embarrassed, “I liked doing it with you, and I want to do it again.” She mumbles, barely intelligible.

“I can’t hear you. Can you repeat that?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” Nayeon says, her face growing red. “I want you to fuck me.” She mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear. Nayeon turns in your arms, a pleading look on her face as she stares into your eyes. “Just one more time.” Nayeon buries herself in your chest, trying to hide away. “T-this could be good for us. I-it’ll help us relax.” You kiss the top of her head. This makes her peek up from your chest. “Is that a yes?”

You stay silent, letting your actions do the talking as you press your lips against hers. Nayeon’s eyes shoot open; she accepts the kiss, enjoying the feeling of your lips on hers. She grabs your arms, moving them from her back to her waist. You hold Nayeon gently as you break the kiss. Nipping at her neck, Nayeon moans softly and holds your head. Your hands move around Nayeon’s waist, finding the zipper to her skirt and pulling it down slowly. She feels you strip away her skirt, leaving her bottom half in just panties and thigh highs. “Thank you,” Nayeon moans. She rubs her legs together as you tug on her sweater. Nayeon lets you go momentarily, practically throwing her sweater off before wrapping her arms around your neck and bringing you back in.

“You’re gonna catch a cold leaving in just a sweater.”

“Shut up,” Nayeon groans as you cup her breasts, squeezing the modest mound. You groan, too; Nayeon was rubbing her cunt against your bulge. “Please, I want you.” You pull your pants and underwear down as Nayeon continues to grind against you. Her panties were soaked with her juices, and her hips continued to grind against you. “Please, put it in.” Nayeon moans into your ear.

You move her panties to the side and place your cock between her lips. She becomes more restless, rocking her hips back and forth, pushing your cock between her folds. “Calm down, Nayeon. I don’t want this to be the last time. We can take our time.”

Despite your words, Nayeon continued to move. “I just need you. I’ve been thinking about our first time together.” Without another word, you grab Nayeon’s waist and slowly push inside; her entrance stretches to fit you inside. Her walls cling to your shaft as you push in deeper, rubbing against the head. Nayeon wraps her legs around you as you finish burying yourself inside her. You glance at Nayeon only to see her in he own world, eyes shut and a long, breathy moan escaping her lips. Her arms relax around you as you begin thrusting; each one is long and slow. Nayeon’s modest breasts bounce as you push back into her. You reach up, cupping one of Nayeon’s cheeks, holding her head still as you go in and kiss her. “I-I love you.” Her words were a pleasant surprise. You stay buried inside Nayeon, waiting for her to open her eyes. “Why did you stop?” She asks as her eyes flutter open.

It was your chance to tease her. “What did you say?”

“I-Nothing! I didn’t say anything!” Nayeon says as she panics. “I-I said fuck me! I want it harder!” She shouts, trying to cover her traces. You chuckle

“If that’s what you want.” You say before moving your hands to Nayeon’s waist and sinking your fingers into her flesh with a tight grip. You pull out slowly before ramming your length into Nayeon. She grunts as you ram into her womb.

“Oh, fuck me!” Nayeon grunts as you begin to ram every inch into her welcoming pussy. She tucks her head into your shoulder and tightens her grip on your waist. Her moans grow louder, filling the room. Nayeon’s walls tighten around you as she nears her climax, the sudden attack on her body sending her over the edge. “I’m gonna cum!” She yells before biting down on your shoulder. Nayeon pushes you deeper inside as she cums, her walls tightening and relaxing around your cock, attempting to milk you as you continue to pound away at her cunt. Nayeon’s moans continue as you begin to overstimulate her. Each thrust drives you crazy as you try to hold on; Nayeon’s tight warm cunt was becoming too much for you. “Wait, wait, wait!” Nayeon cries, her roll into the back of her head as you make her cum again, quickly. Her nectar squirts out of her, coating your cock and dripping onto the bed as you bury yourself inside her and fill her awaiting cunt with your semen. You watch Nayeon’s expression, noticing her come in and out as she recovers from her orgasms. Her hips thrust upward on occasion as she twitches, and you're forced to pull her legs apart, finally allowing you to pull out. Nayeon slowly closes her legs, her panties acting as a poor barrier as cum soaks it before spilling between her thighs.

“Was that hard enough for you?” You ask, breathing heavily and tired. Nayeon turns her head slowly, eyeing your softened cock. She turns onto her side and crawls closer, pressing her lips against the bulbous head before swallowing as much as possible. You groan immediately, feeling her tongue lash against your shaft. You begin to grow hard in her mouth, forcing her to back away as her lips become stretched out. Nayeon swirls her tongue around the head. You moan her name in response. You feel a smile form as she hears that. Nayeon pops you out of her mouth and runs her full lips along your shaft, lapping up the remaining cum on it.

“I guess you like it when I use my mouth,” Nayeon says as she plants a kiss on the tip. “Maybe I’ll use it more often if this isn’t the last time we fuck.” She comments before opening her mouth to show you she drank all of your cum.

Not a second later, the door opened and shut. “Alright, it’s time to go,” Moonbyul said as she turned around. She covered her eyes and turned to face the door the moment she spotted Nayeon nearly completely naked. “Oh, for crying out loud. Couldn’t you have locked the door or put a sock on the handle?”

Nayeon grabs her sweater, covering her chest with it in a panic. “Sorry, but I hadn’t expected someone to barge in.” You reply.

“Shut your mouth and grab your things; both of you, we are leaving.” Nayeon throws her sweater back on and rushes to put her skirt back on as you pull your pants back up. You grab your things, ready to finally leave. “Let’s get going; the faster we do this, the better.” Moonbyul leads you out of the manor, acting as a scout to ensure no one sees you and Nayeon. You exited through one of the side doors, the late evening sky providing just enough darkness to hide among the hedges as you leave the property and find a car waiting for you. The three of you jump in with your things before heading off. You sat in the backseats with Nayeon as Moonbyul sat up front with her co-conspirator. The car ride was silent for the first few minutes before Moonbyul decided to speak up. “Hey, you two. Aren’t you going to say thanks to my partner?”

“Oh, right. Sorry. Uhm, thank you for picking us up…”You grow quiet, realizing you don’t know their name.

“Call me Solar, and it's no problem. Moonbyul’s my partner anyway, and I needed to get her back sooner or later.”

Moonbyul brings the conversation back into focus, “So here’s the plan: we’re going to drop you two off at your new place, and then we’ll drink a lot. I need something strong after working my butt off as a maid. Consider it a cheers to your escape.”

“Yeah, right.” You say as you reach over and grab Nayeon’s hand. “A cheers to freedom.”

“To freedom,” Nayeon says quietly.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #twice smut #nayeon smut

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zyafics · 1 month ago

Note

okay but the tension that would’ve been in the room or even waiting room when rafe showed up??

yes, and ykw, i wanna write this

rafe's hands are shaking when he walks up the reception's desk. the low beeps of pagers hung on nurses and low-volume buzz of the waiting room's tv contrasts the racing beats of his heart.

the receptionist looks up at him, offering a gentle smile as rafe picks up the plastic pen and scrawled his name across the sheet. it's terrible. he doesn't even know he completed the rest of cameron before it flattens into a long scribbled line. when he lays the writing instrument back down on clipboard, the woman picks it up—reciting his name before asking for his purpose of visit.

he says your name.

she types something into the ancient computer, which blinks and blinks with anticipation before a catalog prints. the woman recites your name—to clarify, to check, or to taunt him, he doesn't know—before iterating your room number.

he's never made his way down the hallway so quick.

his hands are clammy by his side. his pulse in his throat. he can feel the heavy weight of each step behind his gait, the way he's moving closer and closer to your room. and just as he's about two doors away, someone opens the door—and cleo slides out.

her eyes widen at she sees you. before it shifts into a protected look and she marches up to you. "she's not—"

"i need to see her—"

"she's not responding—"

"i need to see her—"

"rafe, you should leave—"

"i need to see her."

he didn't know how much time he can repeat it before he snaps. he's already hanging on a thin line, one on the verge of breaking with just the right tug, and cleo is pulling the thread with precision. he doesn't boast hatred for the pogue, not by a long shot—because he knows all this defensiveness comes from being your appointed best friend—but he won't lie and say she didn't tick him off.

cleo wires her jaw shut, running her hands down her cargo pants. she looks away, rafe seeing nothing but the hardened profile of her face, as she contemplates. she's acting as if she's security. as if the person inside that room—you—needed protection from him. it surges a line of irritation up his chest, and rafe can't stop himself before saying.

"she needs me."

cleo's expression snaps to rafe and a heat of defiance flickers through her gaze. "needs you?" she repeats lowly, the slip of her bahamian accent cutting at her punctuation. "she needed you hours ago, rafe. you weren't there."

"i didn't know."

"you didn't know or you didn't care?"

rafe huffs at the accusation. "i told you, my dad took my phone—"

"sure," cleo scoffs, before crossing her arms. "and all those other times you didn't respond to her, that was daddy's fault too?"

he says nothing. can offer nothing. he doesn't know how much cleo knows about your relationship with him, but he won't put it past her to know too much.

and him not being able to say anything? it's because she's not wrong.

that's the worse fucking part.

rafe claps his hands together. almost timidly. almost in desperate. before he looks at the girl who blocks his path. "look. i know you don't trust me, and i get it—but that's my girl. that's my kid. and whether or not you want me in there isn't up to you, it's her. just let me see her, once." and he pauses, before he adds. the plead on his tongue. "please."

cleo says nothing. for the longest time. and each stretch of a second—fuck, even a millisecond—feels like a knife to the gut. he just wants to see you. see your face. make sure, in some capacity, that you're okay. that's all he needs to know. he'll be damned if he left the hospital without it.

and finally, she concedes. cleo steps to the side, allowing rafe to grab the knob of the door with a twist. and slowly, with his pulse still in his throat, he steps inside.

cleo follows quietly behind.

the room is sterile and white. the windows are covered with a sheen curtain, and there's a consistent beat that echoes from the monitor. a low hum buzzes from the corner of the room—the tv flipped to a random channel—and as rafe's eyes cascades down everything else first, he finally lands on you.

you laid on the hospital bed. emotionless. wordless. breathless. the IV is hooked to your arm as you stared into the vast nothingness of the world, blankness that coats your features and an resignation he never see on your face.

you didn't see him at first. didn't even acknowledge the change in cleo leaving the room before returning. but as your eyes lift up, climbing up the slow built of your boyfriend—your ex-boyfriend—your breath finally hitches in your throat as you reach his face.

"hi, baby."

this is ass, ok, i written this in like 20 mins because i have to go to work <3

#asks #hb:l asks #heartbreak: live (extra)

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squinch-depraved · 4 months ago

Note

ted, cnc, but make it keeping reader stoned for freeuse purposes

do you see the vision?

you beautiful genius i see the vision and it is glorious - i hope our vision is the same because this was really fun... got rlly intense sooo yaya

CW: cnc, somno, free use, drugging someone, marijuana usage, she/her used, MDNFI

ted tossed your dab pen back to you after taking a long drag from it, pulling the smoke deep into his lungs and expelling it upwards with his head tilted back. you copied him, drawing a large cloud from the cart and hacking a few short coughs while he laughed at you.

"you're a bigger stoner than i am, how are you coughing from that?" he chuckled.

you whipped your head around to glare at him. "coughing isn't indicative of experience smoking, ted. i'm disappointed in you, you should know better." your voice was dry and matter-of-fact. "plus, i took a blinker and you didn't." you leaned back onto the couch and stared up at the ceiling, pen still clutched in your hand.

it was quiet for an unquantifiable stretch of time, distorted by the drugs you were sharing, until ted spoke. "you still down for our agreement?" his voice was quiet but hopeful.

your eyes opened (not that you had noticed they closed, you were so relaxed) and you thought back on the deal you made with him. you were only staying at his place for a long weekend, three nights and heading home monday. it was the second day, two more sleeps to go before you had to leave your boyfriend's safe haven of an apartment and head back to your chaotic life. ted had pleaded on discord calls between the two of you for weeks before you flew out to l.a., begging you to let him get you stoned beyond your usual limits and take advantage of you. the idea was actually very appealing, and the thought of what he would do to you fueled your late-night vibrator sessions whenever he couldn't be there in a call with you. you took another long hit off your pen and and spoke as you exhaled it.

"you have my full permission to do whatever you want to me teddy."

he grinned and shifted towards you slightly. "as much as i want? all day?"

you nodded and met his eyes. "all day."

he lunged at you, kissing you deeply before he made a noise and broke away to get up and walk to the kitchen.

"where're you going??" you whined, eyes glassy and hair tousled.

"bought you some edibles. i want you gone for me," his voice carried through the apartment.

"if you bring me a whole nerds rope, the agreement is off," you taunted.

he snorted and shuffled back to the couch, handing you a large, square gummy, and looked at you impatiently until you took it from him. "whole thing. eat it," he instructed.

"oh, my god, ted, this thing is huge! how much is this? am i gonna pass out?"

he rolled his eyes and sat down next to you, putting on a movie to watch while it kicked in. "it's from the dispensary down the street, and it's just a little bit more than the ones we usually take. you'll be fine," he replied, before mumbling a, "probably."

with a deep breath, you popped the square in your mouth, not realizing until you had swallowed it that you hadn't eaten at all for the day. oh well, you thought. i'm already in too deep. and so you surrendered to your high, trying your best to pay attention to the obscure film he put on to trip you out. when it finished, ted looked over at you as the credits rolled. your eyes were red and lidded, mouth hanging open in surprise at the ending as you slowly processed what you could. he smirked hungrily while he watched you for a second before reaching over and pulling your pants off, laying you on your back and pushing the stolen hoodie of his you were wearing up so he could see your breasts.

you mumbled something he couldn't understand as he eagerly stretched you on his fingers, bending your legs back so he had a better view of your dripping hole. "ted, teddy, ngh- fuck!" you mewled when he finally pressed his lips to your clit. he sucked at your sensitive nub, working and curling his fingers still while he sloppily ate you out. you glanced down at him and he shifted his eyes to look directly into yours, cutting right through you. a loud, drawn out moan tore from your lips as you laid your head back down, nearly covered by the wet sounds of ted making out with your pussy.

"ted, 's getting to be too much," you cried, your own words echoing in your ears as the room began spinning. he gave your ass a quick smack and started swirling his tongue faster, holding you down when you inevitably began to squirm. "i- i can't, please, teddy, i feel so much! can't handle it! please stop!"

you bucked your hips frantically, trying both to get away from his face and bring it impossibly closer. he moaned into your core and smacked you again, much harder this time. you screamed pitifully as you clenched your thighs around his head, crying out, "stop!! baby, please, i'm gonna.." you trailed off when you started seeing stars, only able to make nonsensical noises while tears flowed down your cheeks. you swore you felt him grin against you and prayed he would finally stop, but he just kept going.

you have no idea how long you laid there, being devoured by your boyfriend like that. your sense of time was beyond fucked, and all you could do was occasionally beg, "stop? please?" before getting slapped again. he was going to eat until he had his fill, and you were going to have to deal. when he finally pulled away, you looked down at him and your stomach flipped. his face was red, lips puffy and wet, stubble soaked by your essence, and his hazel eyes peered up, and then down at you as he sat up and wiped his face with his sleeve. your eyes flicked down to the tent in his pants, adorned by a dark wet spot right where his tip would be, and you blinked slowly before looking back up.

he handed you your pen from the table and said, "smoke more and take a nap. i gotta get some shit done but we're not finished here."

you sighed and obeyed, taking a hit to appease him before he walked away. you pulled a blanket over you, not bothering to put pants back on before curling up and dozing off. ted checked back in on you after cleaning up the mess he made in his pants, and, finding you sleeping peacefully, he got a few chores done around the apartment. he wanted to be sure you were really sleeping so your reaction to him taking you forcefully would be all the more adorable. the groggy expression on your face as you pleaded for him to stop, the futile struggle you would put up as he held you down- it was all going to make tonight worth the weeks he had to put up with between your visits.

it was late afternoon when you came to. orange light filtered through the blinds, and you were suddenly very cold. you turned your head to look at what was happening and found ted kneeling between your legs on the couch, pumping his cock in his hand before shoving your legs open wider. you were stupid from the weed; your eyes only widened a little bit when you realized what was happening.

"no! nonononono! ted! please, please don't," you stuttered, brain trying to keep up with the situation.

he simply grinned and hooked your legs over his shoulders, lining himself up with you and waiting for just a moment before he said, "'anything i want,' baby. you said. this is your fault." with that, he buried himself deep into you, savoring every second and gently pumping his hips.

after a minute, he started thrusting harder, chuckling breathlessly when you resumed begging him to stop. of course, he knew you'd use the safe word if you really needed him to stop. it was so like you to put on a show for him, you really were such a performative slut. or maybe you really didn't remember.

"god, baby, you're so weak under me! hate to think of what else i could do to ya without you bein' able to stop me," he growled, still grinning. "taste these, huh, baby?" he shoved his fingers in your mouth, pressing them onto your tongue and watching as tears filled your eyes yet again, and he relished in how pathetic you looked as he ruined you.

when you started gagging on his digits, he pulled them out and wrapped his hand around your neck, squeezing lightly. "my pretty baby takes me sooo well, even when she doesn't want to," he continued, now pounding into you. all you could do was cry.

"y'know," he started with a laugh. "i really didn't think you'd be stupid enough to eat that whole gummy!" the sound of him smacking into you persisted as you slowly worked through what he said.

"wha?" you slurred, cockdrunk and higher than you had ever been.

"you just believed me so easily! one fourth-" he slammed deep into you, "- of that thing is what we usually have, but you just ate it all because i told you to." he leered down at you, continuing, "so trusting. so stupid. what if i wanted to hurt you, love? what if i used you until you were worthless and then kept going?"

you just sobbed. "and then i told you to smoke more, and you did! you stupid little slut! i bet you've never been this high, huh?" he was right in a way he couldn't imagine. you were floating, every inch of your skin tingling, and your core ached from overstimulation. you didn't think there was such a thing as too many orgasms, but here you were. your thoughts were a mess, the only thing in your mind was the name you were screaming: "teddy!!" over and over and over as you bawled, pounding your fist at his chest in a feeble attempt to stop him. but he persisted, railing you at an inhumane speed and reaching unexplored depths.

your only indication he was close was him gripping your throat far too tight, and you frantically grasped at his fingers while he jackhammered into you several final times before burying his shaft as far as it could go and cumming in you with a low, "fuuuck..."

the two of you kept your eyes locked until he caught his breath and removed his hand from your now slightly bruised throat. the sight snapped him out of his brutish state as he began to panic, kissing your neck softly and cooing about how sorry he was.

you just smiled and let your eyes fall closed, trusting him to take care of you after he had abused you so filthily.

#chuckle sandwich #x reader #ted nivison #ted nivison x you #ted nivision smut #ted nivision x reader #this healed me a bit i think #i really like this one

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 4 months ago

Text

you never knew how much i really liked you - s. crosby

summary: 'In truth, it wasn’t nothing – it was never nothing with Sid. It was always something, and usually it hurt. The timings; what wasn’t said; the history. There was more to the two of you than what even Nate and Taylor knew of – not even when they seemed to stop breathing when you admitted what it could be.'

warnings: sid x f!reader (ex-hockey player), swearing, miscommunication trope, mentions of the consumption of alcohol, bonus point if you spot the unintentional olivia rodrigo lyric, mentions of food aversion (in relation to illness & hints at anxiety), passing mentions of someone potentially having alcohol poisoning, confrontation

< a/n: the ending is abrupt but i can't be arsed changing it! sorry! ALSO: IT'S PENS PRE-SEASON DAY!! >

word count: 13k

There was a chair, this time. They’d never been a chair there before, ever. You’d been to this house and you’d sat on the end of the deck with your feet hanging over the edge countless times in the last decade or so, but there had never been a chair there before, at least not one that didn’t have to be dragged from inside and unfolded.

It didn’t particularly strike you as odd or anything, but it did stop you in your tracks at the top of the deck, and you did try to see if you could see him through the windows of his house, but it was early so the sun only reflected against the glass panes, completely blocking your view. But you’d seen his car in the driveway, and you knew he’d be up – probably eating his breakfast or in the gym already.

You gripped your book a little tighter, making your way towards the end of the pontoon and assessing the chair with your own eyes. You almost laughed at the blanket draped across the back of it, but it didn’t stop you from picking it up and covering yourself with it after you got settled.

It was a lovely morning, it always was here, and it was partly why you loved arriving earlier: there was something about the crispness of the sun in the morning and the rawness of the view. It wasn’t one you could ever imagine getting tired of. The water was gorgeous, the trees were gorgeous, the sky was gorgeous, the birds were gorgeous. As usual, it took you a while to work yourself up to actually pick up your book and tear your attention away from the view.

It was a muffled bark that finally did it, your fingers absent-mindedly playing with the pages of the book, and you turned to peer around the side of the chair, a golden labrador bounding down the pontoon, tongue lolling out and ears flapping as she did. You grinned, sitting forward in the chair and anticipating Sam to stop right in front of you, her tail wagging ferociously as you scratched behind her ears.

“Good morning to you, too.” You muttered, clenching your jaw and stroking her fur as she collapsed to lay at your feet, her belly exposed for you to scratch, “Where’s Sid?” At the mention of his name, Sam’s ears perked up and she barked, her head turning to something behind you, “Is he walking down now?” You didn’t turn around, instead focusing your attention entirely on the pup in front of you – until the pair of footsteps echoing against the wood became too noticeable to ignore.

The sun was still blinding from reflecting off the patio doors, but the silhouette of Sid was nearly impossible to ignore, more so when he was effortlessly carrying another chair in one arm and a travel flask with two cups balanced on the lid in the other.

You shielded your eyes with your hand, about to get up to help him in some way, but he shook his head adamantly, “I got it. Here.” He passed you the mug with the cups, and you sat silently, watching him unfold the chair (it looked a lot less comfortable than the one he’d set out for you, though you didn’t comment on it) and settled himself in.

“Morning.” You greeted, passing him one cup before unscrewing the lid and sniffing.

“Morning.” He replied, grinning, “It’s decaf, by the way.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, “Thank you.”

“‘Course.”

“Are you sure you wanna put this in your body this early?” You asked, taking his cup from him and pouring out the steaming coffee. It warmed your hands nicely through the plastic, and you snuck a look at him out of the corner of your eye. He was sitting comfortably, a little lower than you because of the height of his chair, and he was watching you carefully, completely unashamed at having been caught in the act. His grin did seem to melt into one more bashful, and he looked out across the water, blinking in the light.

“I feel like I’m gonna need it to get through today.” He answered, gently taking his cup from your hand, fingertips brushing delicately against yours.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be pretty hectic.” You agreed, placing the flask on the floor, giving Sam a quick pat before sipping on your own coffee, your book tucked under your chair. You had a feeling you weren’t going to get much reading done now anyway, not when Sid had decided to join you.

You both leaned back in your chairs, the blanket tucked around your waist, and nothing was said for around ten minutes. Nothing needed to be said. Even Sam seemed to get that message; she was curled up at both your feet, her head turned in the direction of the water. Every so often she’d perk up, maybe when a bird flew overhead or when she heard something in the woodland, but she’d always end up placing her head back down on the wooden beams, bathing in the sun.

“This is always my favourite week of the entire year.” You admitted a little shyly. It wasn’t something you were afraid of saying out loud, per se, but you’d known Sid for years. He was the one that started the week-long camp for the kids in Cole Harbour, and for some reason admitting that it was his creation that you always looked forward to the most was a little daunting.

He didn’t seem to think so, but he couldn’t quite keep the shock off his face when he registered what it was you’d said.

“It is?”

You nodded, “Is that sad? I feel like it is.”

He shook his head, “Nah, it’s not sad at all.”

If it had been anyone else that had admitted that, Sid might have teased a little – or if you’d said something else altogether, but almost as soon as you’d thrown those words out there he felt a twinge of empathy for you. To have played hockey with each other most of your youth…you’d obviously stopped playing against and with boys at a certain age because of the regulations, but you’d managed to secure a spot on a local girl’s team and eventually you’d gone on to play at college. And by the time graduation came around, you had your degree, sure, but there was no women’s hockey league to play for, not one you could live comfortably off anyway.

Sid had often tried to put himself in your shoes…it killed him every time, like getting stabbed in the chest. Only, when you said that, the knife twisted and was pulled out, and he swore his heart broke a little. To have the skill and the talent to play professionally, but no league to play in was his worst nightmare.

To not have hockey, to him, was to not live and breathe. If he didn’t have hockey, he couldn’t even imagine what he’d be doing right now.

You just hummed, clearly not believing him, and he inhaled sharply, resisting the urge to give you a reassuring touch. He was about to say something, but you turned to look at him sharply, an odd expression on your face.

“What?” He found himself asking, taking a self-conscious sip of the coffee to hide his face.

Your eyes narrowed, and a small smile curled at your lips, “Aren’t you gonna make a comment about ‘wow, you must really miss me, huh?’, or–”

“I don’t sound like that.” He shook his head, managing a tight smile. You were trying to cover a wound that had scarred over the years by switching the subject, but Sid could only muster a forced laugh and a curious glance in your direction, “Did you miss me, though?”

There was a brief moment where he thought you’d play his question off and pretend you hadn’t heard him, and in that brief moment there were a few things that happened to him: his heart seemed to pound and drop to his feet at the same time; he realised that if you didn’t miss him he wasn’t quite sure what else to do, and regret. The regret was anticipatory, though, of you ignoring him.

And it also seemed to dissolve completely when you answered: “Yeah. Not as much as I used to, though.”

Sid swallowed, picking at his navy joggers. Instead of regret, it was guilt that ate away at him – for something he couldn’t even control.

“What do you mean?” His mouth felt dry, and his grip on the cup tightened.

You turned to look at him, shrugging hopelessly, “That first year without you was just a lot to adjust to, that’s all.”

“It was?”

Something on your face seemed to flicker; your brows twitched downwards and any trace of happiness that was previously written on your face was suddenly no longer visible. Your head tilted, and you stuttered, clearly not quite knowing what to say or where to start.

“I…” You trailed off, and Sid felt the beginnings of dread begin to creep up his stomach and settle there like a pebble, “Yeah. You didn’t know that?”

He shook his head, jaw clenching. You looked inexplicably sad at his reply, and turned to fix your eyes on the water in front of you, a sip of scalding coffee seemingly hinting at wanting to end the conversation.

But Sid wasn’t quite done, not yet. His first year in the NHL: he remembered it pretty clearly, and he also remembered that neither of you were that good at keeping in touch with each other. You were on the other side of the country in California for college, and he was mainly in Pittsburgh, but nearly everywhere. Moving out of Nova Scotia was a big thing for both of you, but having lived next door to each other for your entire childhood and having played on the same team as little kids? That first year was difficult.

“Did something happen?” He asked, voice a little frailer than he’d liked to have conveyed – so much so that even Sam’s ears seemed to prick at the slight twinge in pitch.

You shook your head, sighing deeply, “I just kind of had the sense that I was never gonna see you again those first few months, that’s all. I psyched myself out…it’s fine now, though.”

***

“Is Sid okay?” Taylor sidled up to you on the edge of the group of kids listening intently to the man in question, skates scratching to a stop as she murmured the question in your ear.

You felt your brows pinch, your gloved hands resting on the top of your stick hiding your mouth as you turned to her, “As far as I’m aware.”

He looked okay from where you were standing: the very picture of effortless leadership as he explained the next game to the group of kids all staring up at him intently, some with dropped jaws and some with frowns of concentration etched on their features. They were all wearing monochrome jerseys and the overhead lights were reflecting off their helmets. Not a single one wasn’t watching Sid talk.

His voice wasn’t wavering, and he was giving the kids his entire attention – devoted as usual to his sport…so?

“Why?” You raised a brow, looking at Taylor out of the corner of your eye.

Her mouth was pulled down at the corners, and she shrugged offhandedly, “I dunno, he just seems a bit off today.”

Yeah, okay. You turned your attention back to him, trying to commit every little motion of his hand to memory, intently keeping an eye out for any trembling or straying of his attention. It must have been another fifteen seconds before you sighed, turning back to Taylor, who was regarding you with an air of amusement, a sly smile hiding on her face.

“What?” You asked, feeling as though she was looking right through you.

“Nothing.” Then, after a pause, “Did he drive you over here?”

You hummed, nodding, but your mind was stuck replaying and analysing what she’d previously said, “What did you mean by ‘off’?”

“What’s up with Sid?”

Your heart thundered in shock, not having anticipated Nate to shuffle over to your other shoulder. His voice in your ear was jarring, but still as soft as yours and Taylor’s had been, not wanting to disrupt the talk at the front of the group.

“What do you mean?”

“Three guesses.”

You and Taylor spoke up at the same time, and when you turned to look at her she was glaring at you rather pointedly, and Nate whistled lowly in your ear, a deep laugh shaking his ribs.

“No way, what did you say to him?” Nate asked, half-giggling, and you sighed, getting slightly infuriated by the lack of real answers and use of cryptic mutters that had you no closer to figuring out exactly just what they were on about.

A part of you was losing your cool a bit because you liked to think you knew Sid pretty well; in fact, you did know him pretty well. It was why you couldn’t possibly fathom another two minutes in the presence of these two without getting an answer, because he’d been like this since…

Oh.

Nate’s laughter immediately halted, and Taylor leaned forward, the two of them sharing a cautious look at the way you seemed to wince.

“What?” They chorused, the combination of their voices causing a few heads to turn in your direction, and you ducked your head, adjusting your skates as an excuse not to draw even more attention to yourself.

After a nudge in the elbow, you lifted your head up.

There was no way that was what was causing him to be more distracted than usual. It wasn’t even a big deal or anything, and it certainly wasn’t a secret – you thought he knew, that wasn’t your fault. And it wasn’t like he’d actually done anything all those years ago, either. That first year was almost radio silence on both ends, and you were honestly glad that wasn’t the case now.

But, still? No way.

“It’s not much, I don’t even think it could be what I’m thinking anyway.” You shook your head, watching him.

“What’re you thinking?” Taylor whispered, the lip of her cap catching you in the cheek with how close she’d shuffled.

You recoiled slightly, “It’s genuinely nothing. He just apparently didn’t know that I missed him the first year.” Your voice trailed off weakly, “Nothing.”

In truth, it wasn’t nothing – it was never nothing with Sid. It was always something, and usually it hurt. The timings; what wasn’t said; the history. There was more to the two of you than what even Nate and Taylor knew of – not even when they seemed to stop breathing when you admitted what it could be.

There were weeks and months and years where you didn’t talk much, mostly due to the distance and the clashing of schedules, but there was a lull that you’d both managed to keep from everyone else, and if you were being honest, now that you were thinking about it…that and with your earlier admission on top of it…

Maybe it was your fault.

“What did he say?” Taylor said, shaking you out of your own head. You blinked, apparently still looking at Sid.

There was something grave and more serious in her features that hadn’t been there earlier, and when you shot a look at Nate, he was wearing an almost identical expression: his brows were furrowed together and his mouth was pulled in a tight line, altogether looking uncharacteristically morbid.

You felt your pulse quicken in foreboding, “He asked if anything happened and then we got in the car.”

“Nothing else?”

You inhaled, blinking twice, “Should there have been?”

***

The car ride back to your house was silent. Eerily so. Your body was exhausted and your brain was still playing the soundtrack of pucks smacking against posts, sticks and boards in your head, along with the joyous yells of the kids. That was why you loved it so much – not just the ice time and the familiarity of having a stick in your hands and a puck at your feet – but for the look on their faces when they looked up from the ice to see a grinning Sidney Crosby or Nathan MacKinnon singing them praises.

It made you wonder how many of them would eventually go on to play college hockey or even make it to the professional leagues.

You stifled a grin, your hand over your mouth as you turned to look out of the passenger window.

The only thing that broke through to you was the motion of the driver when his head turned to watch you briefly before returning back to the road. That simple movement had the smile melting off your face.

You’d never been particularly nervous around Sid – and on the few occasions you had been, all it had taken was a fifteen minute conversation with him and it all dissipated – but this time was different. Not only was what Taylor had told you swirling around your mind, but the tension in the car was palpable, at least in your opinion.

Sid hadn’t said much, just kept his jaw clenched and his eyes focused on the road. Since this morning, it was probably the only glaringly obvious symptom that something wasn’t quite right, or something was playing on his mind.

It didn’t take much for you to box your own miseries and turn to him. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye first: the strong jaw, the full lips, the prominent nose, the dark eyes and darker hair. He really was quite breathtaking. The hands on the steering wheel, the rippling forearms each time he had to turn the wheel. It wasn’t something you were immune to at all: in fact, since the age of about fourteen you’d been hyper aware of the fact that Sid was stunning – and it wasn’t just in his looks, either. His work ethic, concentration, determination, kindness, generosity. He was the insurmountable sum of all of those qualities, and you were a damn fool if you didn’t recognise the fact that you’d been a tiny bit in love with him all your life.

And because of that, you knew him well. Not as well as some people might initially assume, but well enough.

“You okay?” You asked, earning nothing but a nod and a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah, why?”

You shrugged, “You’re just quiet.”

“I’m tired, that’s all.”

You nodded, looking to your lap. He’d be tired the entire week, that was always how this went. But he’d get by and he’d manage and he’d recover like he wasn’t tired: he still kept smiling, still showed enthusiasm, and maybe he’d gotten used to it over the years, because you could have sworn each time he organised this he was less and less tired.

“You sleeping okay?”

He nodded, running a hand from his wrist to scratch under his sleeve, and you followed the motion unconsciously with your eyes, “More than. You?”

You shrugged, pulling an unsure face, “The usual.”

He snuck another glance at you out of the corner of his eye before turning his attention back to the road ahead, “What about you, are you okay?” He echoed your own question back to you, and maybe if it wasn’t for the genuine thin film of concern to his voice, you’d have brushed it off with an answer and a huff of laughter. Instead, though, you parrotted his words back to him, nailing the equal part-suspicion and amusement.

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re hilarious.” He shot back drily, shaking his head.

“Hey, can you drop me off at my parents’ house please, I need to collect something. I’ll literally be five minutes.”

It was Taylor’s voice in your head that kept bashing about, repeating words and flashing images – Nate was thrown in there too from that earlier conversation you’d all had when Sid was oblivious, and it didn’t let up, not even when you pushed the key into your childhood home and shut the door behind you.

The house was pretty quiet, the sound of the door shutting echoing down the hallway. The TV was flashing in the living room, and you could hear voices, from both the news anchors and your parents talking over it. Only then did Taylor’s words quieten.

“Who is it?” A voice yelled out just as you’d scraped your shoes off your feet, and the smile that bloomed on your face was almost instantaneous.

“Your favourite child!”

There was a brief pause, and you stopped in the hallway, waiting until he replied.

“That doesn’t sound like Sid.”

You pulled a face, snatching a pair of socks from the staircase before entering the living room, pelting the ball at your Dad’s head, the soft cotton smacking him straight in the nose. He was sitting in his PJs: plaid bottoms and a crumpled top, with slippers and no socks on his feet. When the socks collided with his face, that smirk was still there, even as he lobbed them back at you with surprising force to say he didn’t have a lot of arm room.

“Nice to see you, too.” You rolled your eyes, smiling at your Mom, who’d since gotten up off the sofa to peer through the blinds.

“What’re you doing?” Your Dad asked, turning his attention to his wife, and before she’d even answered you knew what she was going to say.

“Sid’s outside in the car.” You said, shrugging when they both turned to you with equal appal written all over their faces.

“Get him in here.” Your Mom grinned, knocking on the window and motioning for the man himself to come inside.

You just rolled your eyes, “I’m just gonna go get something from upstairs.” Your words fell on deaf ears, however, because almost as soon as you’d taken initiative and left the room, the front door was shutting and Sid was standing, smiling, at the door, still decked out in camp kit and looking every bit as nervous as the first time he’d ever met your family. And then he seemed to spot you walking towards him, your parents in front of you, and he let out that telltale breath, his shoulders and face relaxing fractionally.

He’d explained it to you before, about how he still feels awkward meeting people’s parents, no matter how long he’s known them, and you never seem to remember that until you see it with your own eyes: I don’t know, it’s weird, but if I see, say you, someone I know, it kinda gets me out of my head a bit. I don’t know why.

“Come in, come in – oh, she’s just picking something up–”

You immediately turned on the stairs, one hand still clutching the bannister tightly, to look upon a pair of eyes that practically gleamed ‘don’t leave me here’. The rest of his face was pretty neutral, a polite smile as your parents chatted his ears off, the both of them making their way back into the house, and there was a split second where they weren’t looking at either of you.

For some reason, instead of laughing at his misfortune, you inhaled quickly, leaning over the bannister, “Wait, I need Sid’s help with something.”

Everyone seemed to freeze. Even despite the mental pleading he’d been doing, Sid couldn’t help it when his lips parted in shock, kind of like he couldn’t help it when his brows knitted together. Your mom stopped talking about how nice it was to see Sid again, and looked up at you too. It looked as though she was about to say something, but with the guilty, rather hurried smile on your face she clamped her mouth shut, nodding. Your dad hadn’t stopped walking, but even from the other room the rather loud ‘mutter’ of, “Is that what we’re calling it, now?”

Needless to say, both yours and Sid’s cheeks were still a little bit pink by the time you’d walked into your old bedroom.

“What’re you looking for?” He asked, desperate to get his mind out of that gutter, and flopped on your still-made bed, picking up the penguin teddy he’d brought home after his draft. He’d bought it in one of the stores in the airport in Toronto on his way back home, and you’d never had the heart to even move it out of this house: it belonged here.

“Do you remember that video camera I used to have?” You pulled open the first contender: the bedside table drawer. There were loose cables, hair ties, various joint support bands…but no sign of the camera.

“Yeah.” Came the reply from near your head, and you blinked, not expecting him to be so close. He’d rolled onto his front, his face smushed into your pillow, and he made no attempt to pretend as though he hadn’t been watching you rifle through your drawers – at least not if that cheeky grin didn’t automatically make its way onto his face.

You pushed his forehead back, stopping your mild attack when he screamed before dissolving into giggles severely reminiscent of when he was younger. It was so incredibly infectious, so incredibly nostalgic that all you could do was crouch, an unconscious open-mouthed smile on your face.

“Why are you laughing?” You slammed the drawer shut, heaving yourself off the floor and over to your old desk. There were still some notebooks scattered across the surface, pens in the stand. The cupboard and shelves were almost full, and it was only as you started to pull everything out, looking inside baskets and boxes that Sid could be bothered to speak again.

“Because I’m pretty sure we had this exact conversation when we were twenty.”

“We did?”

“Yeah.” He punctuated it with a sigh, a despondent one, and you looked at him over your shoulder. He was sitting up now, his hands clamped around his ankles, a thoughtful look on his face.

The ‘twenty’ year with Sid had been very weird, and you never really figured out why. The nineteenth was almost non-existent, the twenty-first good, but it was tinged by what happened at the end of his season (not the winning the Stanley Cup for the first time, but the other thing), which made your twenty-second awkward, and the twenty-third was almost like a reset. You never really realised how much you’d both changed until you got to relearn each other as adults.

He was eyeing the corner of your room you tried to avoid looking at.

“So why are you looking for the camera?” He asked, voice sounding far-away. He was still staring at the trophy corner, and you turned your attention back to rifling through old relics in the hunt, gladly looking anywhere but that shrine.

“If I told you Taylor would murder me in my sleep.”

He groaned, “I told her not to do anything for my birthday.”

“It’s nothing big, I think she just wants photos from when we were younger.”

“We?”

You shrugged, missing the slight catch in his voice, “Well, you, but there’s loads of photos of you on my camera, I think she just wants a look. I always forget how young she was when we left.” You sighed, slamming the cupboard door on your desk shut, before standing in the middle of your room, hands on your hips, “I don’t know where else I could have put it.”

He didn’t say anything, but the creaky springs of your mattress groaned under his hands as he pushed himself up off your bed, before walking straight passed you and into the forbidden corner.

There was a clinking sound of metal, and you whirled on your heel, watching him carefully rifle through the trophies, photo frames, certificates and medals all hung and displayed neatly, before spinning around on his heel, holding the camera in his hand with a knowing look on his face.

***

Saying you were nervous was a bit of an understatement considering what it was you were about to do. The camera’s SD card was safely tucked into your laptop, but you’d been staring at the folder on the homescreen for ten minutes, and you were sure you hadn’t felt this nervous since your driving test. Your hands were clammy, your heart was racing and your brain was loud.

You’d lied to Sid earlier – well, partially. Taylor had wanted to look at some photos, and you had every intention on bringing the camera in to the rink tomorrow so you could giggle at the contents in your breaks, but there was something else she’d also said, something that got your brain working, and you hadn’t been able to think about anything else since.

You inhaled shakily, before double-clicking the yellow folder, the seconds where the mouse loaded into a swirl of blue almost knocking your soul out of your body from the sheer anxiety of it all. You hoped you were wrong, but a small part of you hoped Taylor had been right. If she had, it’d make so much sense as to what happened when you were eighteen-nineteen, but if she was right? You weren’t entirely sure what you were going to do.

The screen flooded with images…school corridors, ice rinks, soccer fields, bedrooms, cars, bars, Rimouski, until–

Fuck.

You froze, eyes fixated on the one photo that had caught your eye. It was someone’s back garden, you couldn’t remember who exactly, but you remembered being there. It was dark, string lights and strobe lights hung across the verandah and neon streaks flickered from between plants.

You’d drunk so much that night but you could still remember handing your camera off to some of your classmates – it must have been graduation – and everyone had been drinking, that much you could tell from the quality of the photos, and this one in particular wasn’t any different. It was a blurred photo of someone celebrating a beer pong game, their arms raised over their head and their mouth open in some kind of celebratory roar, but it wasn’t that that caught your attention.

It was the shadowy figures of two teenagers sitting on the stools towards one side of the garden, a makeshift table pressed against the wall. They were sitting close together, knees slotted between each other, and faces mere inches apart. Both were wearing grins, even despite being mid-kiss.

Shadowy, yet so unmistakably you and Sid.

***

“You okay?”

You blinked, the staff room coming back to you. The fluorescent lights glared along the surface of the table you’d picked, your lunch tray sitting untouched in front of you, and there was a general buzz about the place. It was lunchtime, and you’d opted out of kid-duty – partly because you were on the brink of giving yourself a headache and mostly just because you couldn’t really focus on much without immediately thinking about Sid – which meant sitting at a table in a quiet room by yourself just for a breather.

Only, a rather determined, hazel-eyed man seemed to have other ideas if the tray plopped down opposite you was anything to go by. He collapsed against the chair with a sigh, hands picking up his knife and fork with practised ease, and he hadn’t even given you a chance to answer his question before he was pausing, eyeing you with mild concern. His eyebrows knitted together and he ducked his head to try to get a closer read on you.

“Yeah.” You nodded, swallowing, almost nervous.

This thing had happened all those years ago and he’d never brought it up. Yet, that still didn’t explain why he’d then…he was confusing, in the present tense.

His mouth turned downwards for a brief moment and he shook his head in disbelief, “You disappeared ten minutes ago and you haven’t touched your food.”

You just shrugged, managing a tight smile, “Not very hungry.”

It wasn’t a lie, per se, but it was the honest truth when your stomach rolled just as he put a forkful of food in his own mouth. It revolted you to such an extent you pushed your own tray further away and turned to sit sideways on your chair, all just so you wouldn’t have to look at him eat.

He froze, his fork stilling, “Are you…I can take the food away if you want?”

You shook your head, closing your eyes, “No, it’s fine.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and your hand found its way into the pocket of your tracksuit bottoms, fingers finding the smooth plastic of the USB stick you’d copied the photos for Taylor on. You had a plan, see. You wanted to kind of broach the topic of the graduation party with Sid, mainly just to test him for a reaction without outrightly admitting anything, and you figured – despite your current situation – that now was…appropriate.

“Do you know where Taylor is?” You asked, keeping your eyes screwed shut.

“No, why?” His answer came all too quickly, a hint of nosiness creeping into his tone. You could imagine the slight raise of one eyebrow and the thinly veiled look of ‘why the heck are you wanting my sister?’ expression on his face. You’d seen it many times before, and it never ceased to amuse.

“I have that USB of photos to give her and I haven’t seen her all morning, I was just wondering if you knew where she was?”

He would, of course. If one thing was ever going to be guaranteed about Sidney Crosby, it was the protective ‘eye’ he kept on Taylor.

“She’s in the canteen. Did you find any good’ens on there?”

“Yeah, actually.” You peeled your eyes open, ensuring to keep them fixated on his face instead of the sickly pile of food on his plate, “Do you remember that graduation party?”

He chewed thoughtfully, his jaw slowing as he nodded his head cautiously, “Yeah.” He said, dragging the word out, and there was a prick of pink on his cheeks, as though he’d suddenly come under a severe amount of stress.

He was getting a little uncomfortable.

“There’s a photo of…Jack, I think it is? Is that right?” He nodded, “He clearly won a game of beer pong or something because there’s a couple of blurry photos of him celebrating and if you look really closely you can see us in the background. It must have been towards the end of the night or something because I looked like I was falling everywhere.”

He nodded, humming interestedly, “What were we doing?”

You felt your mouth part, almost shocked at the sudden ease rolling off his shoulders. It was as though he’d prepared himself to deny, deny, deny this for his entire life, and purely because you were feeling like shit and like a shit, you shrugged, “Couldn’t really…make it out, I don’t know. I can’t remember what happened that night anyway, I drank way too much.”

He nodded once more, shrugging, “Yeah, I remember having to hold your hair back and almost dialling for an ambulance because I was pretty sure you had alcohol poisoning.”

You nodded, staging a faux look of confusion, “Did anything happen that night? You were really weird for a couple of days after.”

There was a pause – a brief one, maybe a quarter of a second, and he looked straight at you, jaw frozen mid-chew and for a moment you thought he’d picked up on something and you were found out. Then he blinked, and with the way he was acting: sitting up straighter, almost hesitating saying something, you thought maybe he was about to tell the truth.

“No.” He pulled a face, “Nothing happened that I can remember.”

***

It turned out the aversion to food was part of a larger issue, a result most likely of possibly contracting a bug from one of the kids – or maybe you were just horrendously unlucky, because you spent the rest of the night in the bathroom, and were so unwell the next morning you had to cancel helping out at Sid’s camp.

He’d sent a string of texts and a few unanswered phone calls, but you didn’t really have the energy to answer them – not when you were feeling so weird around him. You’d thought, prior to finding out about the photos and what had actually happened (bless Taylor’s oblivious nosiness when Nate had asked about you guys before – Sid had actually admitted to the whole graduation thing to the blonde, and that was Taylor’s knowledge of the entire thing), that you and Sid had maintained a pretty honest friendship, but apparently not? You wouldn’t have been so put off by the whole thing if he hadn’t pulled that same stunt later down the line, either.

There was definitely a pattern, and he definitely had a pattern and it seemed to just be deny, deny, deny at all cost.

And you weren’t entirely sure when this had happened, but you’d come to the realisation that you were sick of pretending like the two of you hadn’t been dancing that line for years. What you’d thought was seven years of denial was actually ten. This thing had been going on since you were kids, and each time something had happened you’d get weird around each other and when you tried to talk about it he’d make some excuse.

If it wasn’t a big deal why did it always have such a big impact on the two of you?

That entire thought process was what you’d been unable to escape from nearly all day. No amount of episodes of TV shows or films could distract your brain from that little spiel, it was like having a grating voice go on and on in your ear and you weren’t quite sure how to proceed, what to do to distract yourself.

Your kettle clicked off, and you sniffed, reaching out to grab the handle, the steam from the boiling water offering some kind of relief from the pressure in your sinuses.

You really were ill, but not nearly as ill as you’d made out to be to Sid. In truth you just needed a break, mostly from him, which felt horrendous to admit considering your ‘break’ from that man consisted of an entire NHL season, and your days spent in each other’s company were severely limited anyway.

But there was something in you that knew if you saw his face you wouldn’t be able to hold back saying or doing something.

Taylor knew what was really going on, and if you knew Taylor like you thought you did that probably meant Nate knew, but you know Nate well enough now to guess he wouldn’t go blabbing to Sid about something that’s not his business. The blonde likes his gossip, but he knows when to stay out of certain situations.

You liked Nate.

You inhaled, the hot water turning a bright-yellow from the teabag you’d placed in the mug (a lemon and ginger one you’d managed to snag from a local store a few days ago), and it was just as you’d threaded your fingers through the mug handle that there was a knock at your door.

You froze, brain a little slow to understand you should be moving to answer it, when a voice could be heard through the frosted glass panes.

The mug seemed to slam against the countertop of its own going, not loud enough for the intruder to hear it but loud enough to satisfy your irritation at who it was.

Think of the devil and he shall indeed appear.

He quieted down for a few seconds and you ducked from where you were standing, knowing if he made his way around to the back of the house where your kitchen window was he wouldn’t be able to see you crouched behind the counter.

And then your phone started ringing. It didn’t exactly take a genius to know who it was and the eye roll came almost automatically.

He could be so dramatic sometimes.

It must have taken barely ten seconds for him to stop ringing, and you held your breath, desperately trying to figure out if he’d moved away and given up; your knees and hips were seizing, you could feel them begin to lock from not having moved nearly all day, and you winced, hand reaching up to grip the countertop.

If you were lucky he wouldn’t be looking—

“I can see your hand and your tea.” His muffled voice deadpanned and you sighed defeated, pulling yourself up.

He was standing in your backyard, his phone in his hand and a rather disappointed look on his face as he stared straight at you through the window.

You had to give him credit where it was due: the man could certainly kick up a fuss and coax you out of hiding.

Granted, you weren’t allocated a set amount of time to even begin to make it look like you were really holed up in bed. If you had, the TV downstairs would be off, as would the lights, and there wouldn’t be an easily visible makeshift blanket bed on the couch. All he’d really had to do was walk along your drive to peer through the front window, and then walk straight down the side of your house to the back gate.

You’d kept it unlocked for the last couple of days because you hadn’t been in much to accept parcels, and you’d never gotten round to locking it again.

Of course you’d come to regret that immediately.

The back door lock clicked open as you twisted the key, and you didn’t spare him a glance, instead making a beeline for the half-made tea. For one, you knew watching him walk through the door with his current sulk on was only going to encourage him to start talking about it, and you absolutely weren’t about to give him that satisfaction. You also really wanted that tea, it was probably the only thing standing between you getting better for the camp and the weird sickness you’d managed to contract.

Your immune system was shit.

He cleared his throat, and you lifted your eyes lazily in his direction, taking out the tea bag and leaving it to drain, “Hi.”

Your voice was scratchy and rough, and the reaction it elicited from the man in front of you: brows raised, mouth dropping open, sprung a rather odd thought to the forefront of your mind: “Did you not believe me when I said I was sick?” You managed, laughing awkwardly and inhaling the vapour from your mug, watching him closely.

He shrugged, pulling off his jacket and hanging it up on the hooks. There was a spare hook, one not used for your own stuff: a plethora of raincoats, boots, kitchen aprons…and Sid’s jacket.

“I did believe you. Kind of.” He admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning back against the kitchen counter, “I thought you were maybe avoiding me, though.”

You blinked, keeping your face neutral, actively trying not to scoff at him or narrow your eyes in his direction, “I am avoiding you; I’m not about to give whatever this is to you, am I?” You asked softly, cradling the mug of tea under your chin, feeling the irritation begin to swirl under your skin already.

You shifted uncomfortably, and Sid watched your eyes dart to a chair pressed up against the wall with longing. He knew there was something up, something not linked to being sick – he’d felt it in the car earlier and you were practically drenched in tension yesterday. It was difficult to ignore, and judging from the way you’d been seeking out Taylor recently he had a feeling it might have been something to do with him.

What, though, he had no idea.

“Well,” he inhaled, mouth flattening into a straight line. His chest seemed to ache suddenly when you nodded, an almost sarcastic grin on your lips, purposefully avoiding looking in his direction, and he’d known you long enough by now to know when you wanted him out of the house. Now it was no different, “Thank you, I appreciate the thought.”

An uncomfortable silence.

He wanted to scream.

“I best be going.” He hurried out, the words almost getting tangled in his mouth, and before he could cause himself more harm by looking at you and the action not being reciprocated, he turned his back and reached automatically for the coat he’d literally just hung up.

Sid had never been a cryer – he didn’t class himself as an emotional guy, which was why he was so shocked at the sudden burning of his eyes and the tightness in his throat. Fuck, he couldn’t cry here. One, because it’s embarrassing, and two: he had no clue why he was upset to this extent.

He’d managed to put his arms through his sleeves, just about to start zipping it up after a quick glance at the sky outside when you suddenly spoke, voice somehow even rougher than before.

“What reason would I be avoiding you for?”

Sid froze, swallowing nervously. It didn’t take a genius, even in that exact moment, to dissect the words you’d chosen to come to the conclusion that you’d picked them carefully. Not ‘what made you think I was avoiding you?’ which would certainly have been easier for him to answer, but he had a feeling you knew that.

It was pretty obvious from the avoidance at lunch yesterday and the weird behaviour in the car the day before that, and then the cold shoulder and lack of interest in conversation now, that something was wrong. The signs were pretty subtle, though, he had to give you that.

He turned slowly, fingers detaching from his zipper. You were now sitting at the chair against the wall, knees tucked up to your chin, the hot mug of tea still clasped in your hands. Your eyes were a little red, probably due to exhaustion, and your hair had been twisted to sit across one shoulder, attention faced solely and rather intensely on him.

“Uhm–” he cleared his throat, blinking quickly to rid of the shining moisture in his eyes. He could feel his heart racing against his sternum, and he wondered briefly if you could hear it from across the room, “I don’t know.” He muttered sadly, eyes flicking to his shoes.

Camp had been great today, as it usually was, but he always found himself scanning the ice for your familiar face.

You nodded, sighing with disappointment, and Sid felt himself deflate. His fingers tapped against his thigh seven, eight times before he inhaled, throwing the words out in the open before he lost the courage to do so.

“What’s going on with you?” He was about three seconds away from stamping his foot; he was so desperate to know the answer. It was childish and it was stupid, but it meant something to him when you shrugged, eyes suddenly misty.

He knew what you were going to say before you even said it, but he kept quiet anyway.

“Nothing.” You sounded as wrecked as he felt, a hint of sheer resignation in your voice. It was so uncharacteristic of you: to Sid it was as if you’d not only given up on whatever it was that was bothering you but you’d given up on hiding that something was ever wrong in the first place.

It was a victory, no matter how small.

“Come on.” He took a step closer, quite literally on the verge of begging, “Really? That’s all you’ve got?”

Silence.

“I know you. Better than anyone–”

The expression on your face changed immediately, and it felt as though you’d socked him in the chest. You didn’t believe him.

You didn’t believe him.

“I want to know you better than anyone else does.” He sighed, hands pressing against his temples before he dropped them back to his sides, not quite registering what his words meant. They’d flown out of his mouth before he even heard them in his brain, and even when he’d spoken them out loud it felt surreal. He wasn’t sure what was what with all the blood rushing in his ears.

It was because of that, trapped inside himself and his own mind that he failed to register the look on your face.

“Even still,” he continued, plopping himself down on the chair on the other side of the table from you, hands knitted together on the tabletop. He was leaning right across the table but you haven't moved an inch, “This…This, you being quiet, withdrawn, skipping a day of camp – I know you’re sick and everything, but that’s never stopped you before, not when it comes to hockey.” He paused, taking a breath, “What’s going on?”

You took a sip of tea, ignoring the scalding sensation against your tongue in favour of stalling. If you didn’t say anything now, then you probably never would. In fact, if he hadn’t said what he’d just said, clearly without thinking about the meaning of the damn words, you knew you wouldn’t even be considering telling him at all. But where there was doubt…

“Why did you never mention what happened at the graduation party?”

You heard him stop breathing. There was no reason to look at him to see it when you could practically hear the hitch in his chest and the lack of air. When you did look at him his cheeks had paled and his mouth was opening and shutting, shoulders stuck in a shrug as though you’d genuinely caught him off-guard.

You could ask him that question without it meaning anything – it could just as easily be read as ‘huh, funny that you never mentioned it before’ than as ‘you kind of denied me the truth of why we’re so weird because everything that’s ever happened between us since that night has been a direct result of whatever fucked-up miscommunication gig we’ve got going on here’.

“How did you find out?” He breathed, a deep crease between his brows. Now that he’d had time to recover, he looked more concerned – angry, even – than sheepish.

You shrugged, “Those photos I got for Taylor? We’re in the background of ‘em.”

He nodded slowly, mouth pressed in a straight line. This time it was him that couldn’t look at you, probably just to gather his thoughts. You could tell his mind was racing, eyes zipping back and forth against the grain of the table.

You could feel your heart banging in your chest, the speed of it almost stinging. The anticipation was debilitating, and it took everything in you not to spit out question after question, because he was taking ages to say something and it was driving you crazy. Your fingers were tapping against your mug, a sharp exhale blowing the vapour around.

It was maybe that that had him looking up, head tilted backwards slightly, a thumb teasing at his lip. It was probably the first time you’d seen him lost for words.

“You really don’t remember it?” He muttered, brown eyes wide and clear, shiny in the last rays of sun poking through the back windows.

You shook your head, “I told you I didn’t remember.”

“I thought you were…I thought that was your way of letting me down gently.”

You huffed a disbelieving laugh, staring at him, half-expecting him to take those words back and say he was kidding, but he never did. He just continued to look at you, that damn crease between his brows, eyes glassy and playing with his bottom lip like he didn’t know what to do with himself. He was still wearing his coat.

He never spoke.

“Why would I reject you?”

His hand fell from his mouth, landing with a soft thud on the table as he smiled, in such a self-deprecating fashion that you couldn’t help recoiling from him.

“Why wouldn’t you? I was moving to Pittsburgh, you were going to LA. We would have barely seen each other, and you deserved better than that. You still do. I mean, you know how much of a mess we were that year anyway, right?” He rambled, brows knitted together and mouth hung open. His elbows were resting on the edge of the table, hands palms-up towards the ceiling. He’d asked it like it was a rhetorical question but he was looking at you so intently you had to swallow your mouthful of tea and start talking.

Your mind had been running away with you, spitting counter-arguments for nearly everything he said, but it seemed to keep wanting to come back to the fact that he so clearly just assumed you’d reject him.

“Did it not occur to you that maybe we were such a mess because of what happened?”

“I thought you didn't remember?”

“I didn’t, but it didn’t take a genius to know you weren’t bothered about keeping in contact with me. I wrote you emails and I got one-word answers – maybe even a full sentence if I was lucky; I called but you either didn’t answer or you cut it short because you had to go to practice. You never called back. On my birthday, the first one away from my family, you never called. I didn’t get anything from you when I got a card from your parents without your name signed because they’d just assumed you’d have written one yourself. For about nine months, the most I heard or saw of you was through the TV.” You inhaled sharply, a sudden burning sensation behind your eyes. That first year was honestly pretty awful for you when it came to Sid. What you’d told him on his decking a few days ago had been true, every single word of it. You’d agonised over every single possible thing that could have happened to change it, and for some reason the realisation of why he’d done what he’d done hit you rather emotionally, “You did all of that because you didn’t believe me when I said I never remembered what happened, didn’t you?”

His hands fell to the table, his expression softening into one of sheer guilt, “I’m sorry.” His voice cracked, “I really…I didn’t know, I thought it was what you wanted.”

You huffed a bitter laugh, suddenly cold, and right as though it had been scripted, rain began to splatter against the window panes, the sky now an overcast, stormy grey, “When have I ever pretended I wanted something if I really wanted the opposite?”

He swallowed, his throat bobbing up and down, “Never.”

You nodded, satisfied with his answer, and took a rather angry sip of tea, ignoring the uncomfortable burn. There was still so much you wanted to know, so many questions you wanted answers to, but at that moment: looking through the window of the back door to see nothing but dark skies and heavy sheets of rain battering your house, there was only one thing that you could really think of.

“While we’re here,” you started, voice lowering almost as though you were anticipating hearing something you weren’t going to like, “Can we talk about your first Cup win?”

Your fingers were back to tapping anxiously against the porcelain of your mug, and the heavy silence broken only by the rustle of his rain jacket was enough of an answer to let you know how this was going to go.

He inhaled, and you risked a glance at him across the table. His eyes were open, but barely, and it looked as though this conversation, or the last few minutes at least, had exhausted him. He suddenly had bags under his eyes, and his eyelids were heavy. He wasn’t smiling but he nodded anyway, face pale and hands beginning to tremble slightly.

Sid wasn’t one to ever really get emotional about anything. You’d only seen him cry a few times in person, but nearly every single one of those occasions was for something good: a Cup win, a house-warming party in the pantry after he’d moved into his new-build, saying goodbye to his parents at the airport.

This was entirely different, though. It wouldn’t entirely shock you if he walked back out of your door with a few grey hairs.

“Do you want something to drink or eat?” You eyed his pale cheeks and trembling hands wearily.

He seemed to think about it for a few seconds, before inhaling and casting a quick glance at your cupboards, “Yeah, I’ll get it though, you’re sick.” And then, almost as if something else had occurred to him when he went to push himself up off the chair, he turned back briefly, “You’d tell me when you want me to leave, right?”

The barest of smiles appeared on your face, and you nodded, “Yeah.”

“Good.”

You watched him manoeuvre through your kitchen, flicking the kettle on and reaching to take a mug out from one of your cupboards, as well as taking a tea bag out of the little box you kept them in and shaking the dust out of it, the bag landing in the mug with a soft plop. He turned back when the kettle was still boiling, hands crossed over his chest and standing against the countertop right in front of you.

There was something on his mind, you could tell. There was a high probability that it was something relating to this Cup Incident, but there was something almost impatient about the way he kept shooting an angry glance at the kettle, as though it wasn’t boiling fast enough for his liking, that had you perhaps thinking there was something else playing on his mind.

“What?” You asked, swallowed anxiously.

His head snapped in your direction, eyes wide with alarm and his mouth opened and closed a few times, thoroughly confused, “I didn’t say anything.”

“I know, but you want to.”

He closed his mouth just as the kettle clicked, and there was a brief moment where he turned his back to pour the water into his cup, but before you could even say ‘hockey’ he’d spun on his heel to face you again, “I just…We’re gonna be okay after this, right? I don’t want you to not be in my life, I don’t want to not be in your life.” He sighed, “I don’t want this to break us.”

Us.

It echoed in your mind, and despite agreeing with almost everything he said, all you could offer by way of reassurance was a sad shrug, “I don’t want that either.”

He nodded, before finishing off his tea and grabbing a protein bar from one of your drawers and sitting back down at the table, shedding his coat and laying it neatly over the back of the chair.

Neither of you said anything for a good minute. It might have been because Sid was munching on that protein bar, but you really wanted to put the matter off for as long as possible just in case what he said did become true. Prolonging a possible heartbreak – an entire era, person and a piece of your identity – from ever occurring, even if it was only hindered a few more minutes.

It seemed, though, he took the liberty of deciding exactly when to start talking.

“So,” he cleared his throat, “this is about the second kiss, isn’t it? My Cup day.” His tone was firm, but there was a hint of sombreness hidden somewhere.

“Yeah.” You whispered, looking down at your mug. Your knees were still tucked to your chin, and technically Sid was sitting to your left, you still choosing to sit on the chair sideways and face the window instead. You were spending an awful lot of time staring at him though.

You spun, feet hitting the floor and mug clinking on the surface of the table.

“I’m gonna ask a few questions and I just want you to answer honestly, okay?” You asked, inhaling a deep breath and choosing to ignore the thundering heart rate.

He nodded, leaning forwards in his chair in anticipation.

“We were both pretty drunk, yeah?”

“Correct.”

“Nobody saw, correct?”

“Correct.” He was starting to smile.

“I leant in first,” you started, voice shakier than you’d intended, and despite moving so you could see him without giving yourself a neck cramp, you found it almost impossible to be able to look at him. You’d kept some of this hidden from yourself, locked away in a bottle somewhere in the floorboards of your mind – completely inaccessible, even to yourself. To bare them aloud for the very person who shared the secret was nothing short of absolutely terrifying, “but then I stopped, right?”

You couldn’t tell if he was hesitating or if he was struggling to remember the event that had been burned in your mind for so many years, yet you still couldn’t look at him. Not even when his fingers slowly inched into your line of sight, seeking to touch your own hand still wrapped around your mug.

You didn’t move. It might dissuade him from touching you – you hoped it would because you weren’t entirely sure if you’d be able to admit all of this to him if he did.

“Yeah.” His voice was low, and his fingers dropped on top of the table, tapping silently.

“Then you…made the move.” You struggled not to cringe at your wording of it, eyes screwing shut before peeking open again, just in time to hear him answer. You hadn’t asked it as a question, but he took the hint anyway.

“I did.”

You paused, thinking. There weren’t many times you’d had to ask for unadulterated honesty when it came to Sid: most of the time he gave it to you anyway, but when it came to this kind of topic – you, it seemed, especially in the more romantic sense than simply lifelong friendship – he always kept his cards to his chest, never really revealed anything too damning.

But you’d asked for his honesty, and the least you could do was reciprocate that. It wouldn’t hurt to also milk it a little.

“I wanted to kiss you.” Want to kiss him, “Did you want to kiss me?” Your voice was higher than you’d like it to be, still a little hesitant and unsure. It somehow all felt unnatural, like scaling a foreign terrain for the first time. You couldn’t quite find your feed, where you could or couldn’t stand that would be safe and efficient.

You risked a quick glance at him. And oddly found you couldn’t quite look away. He still had that one hand almost outstretched towards you on the table, but his other was wrapped safely around his mug, still billowing vapour. His cheeks had flushed since he’d had something to eat, but it was his eyes that you couldn’t peel yourself away from.

He was looking at you, right at you, with something you’d never seen before. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but it was soft without being too gentle, firm without being angry or aggressive. The corners of his mouth were downturned in a sort of sad, melancholic smile, too, and you’d never seen him look at anything else like that – anyone else – apart from when he’d be getting ready to serve a big milestone on the ice.

You’d seen it when he’d put on a gameday suit for his 500th game, you’d seen it when he’d clocked the family in the box at his 1000th game. It was appreciation, gratitude. There was a third answer lurking in the back of your mind, but you refused to acknowledge it for the sake of not getting ahead of yourself.

One question at a time, one answer at a time, only look at the facts.

“Yeah.” The answer flew out of his mouth barely even half a second after you’d looked at him, and he broke into a cheeky grin, quickly ducking his head to his chest to calm himself.

He inhaled, eyes closing briefly before turning back to you with a straight face, and this time it was you breathing an amused laugh.

“Yeah, I wanted to kiss you.” He repeated, nodding for you to continue.

There was one question left. The reminder of it was enough to melt any previous traces of a smile off your face, and instead your mouth twisted at the corner, pulse humming in your head with dread.

“Why did you blow me off the next day when I said we needed to talk?”

His eyes focused on something behind you, and his mouth flattened in a line, self-deprecating and devoid of any true emotion, “I saw it going two ways: you were gonna reject me, or we were gonna do something about it. The way I saw it, I thought you’d already rejected me way back when – I know now that’s not the case – so I wasn’t really scared of that. The thought of it stung but…”

You frowned, “You were scared of me not rejecting you?”

He nodded, “I could never have asked you to sacrifice your entire life just to make me happy. You had a career, a house you’d just bought, friends, you were close to your family. I wasn’t gonna make you choose between all of that and – and just me, was I?”

Your face seemed to crumple sympathetically before you could even control anything. Everything he’d just admitted was nothing short of a testament to his character and who he was, no matter how…you wanted to say he was selfish for choosing for you, and a small part of you believed that, but he was also right. You had everything he’d just listed, and it would have been upsetting to move away if things progressed further and ‘got serious’, but it wasn’t like you would have been completely isolated, either.

He spends a good portion of his time in Pittsburgh, that’s true, but he spends his entire off-season at home in Cole Harbour. An entire four to five months, almost half a year.

You shook your head, hands unclasping from your mug to rest at your temples, “Okay…I kind of get where you’re coming from, but did it ever occur to you how much you had to sacrifice to get to where you are?”

He blinked.

“You’ve earned the right to be selfish, especially when it comes to me. I mean, sure, I have a life here, I love it, but I never wanted to stay here. That was never my plan. I wanted to play hockey as a career, I wanted to travel and experience things, but that wasn’t what happened. I’m constantly missing a life I never even got to taste and I guess…I guess I’m kind of miserable because of it? I’m grateful for what I’ve got, but it won’t ever equate to what I wanted for myself. I love hockey, I love this camp, but I love seeing you just as much, I always have. It meant something to me.” You hesitated, “You mean something to me.”

You searched his face for a reaction, and it might have taken a few seconds for what you were saying to sink in, because his eyes suddenly went glassy and his jaw clenched. He couldn’t look at you for a while, and he kept sniffing.

You hoped more than anything he wasn’t actively catching your cold whilst you waited for him to say something.

And then: “I mean, for what it’s worth, you mean everything to me–”

“It’s not a competition.”

***

You were lost.

Or, at least, from Sid’s perspective you were: he was standing near the boards on the ice, keeping a close eye on the kids playing the shooting drill he’d set up for them, and he truly was watching them…he just couldn’t exactly help it when his eyes would wander curiously and scour the rest of the ice, practically desperate to drink you in. Wherever you were. He couldn’t see you, and it was getting to that point in the day where he wasn’t sure if that meant you’d left the ice to supervise the locker rooms and talk to parents or if he just wasn’t looking properly (again: he had to watch a bunch of kids with knives screwed to their feet).

See, it had been three days since you’d both sat in your kitchen and mulled things over, uprooting what you both thought to have happened when you were younger and twisting everything into a more truthful, honest version (he admittedly spent the rest of the day in bed; he was so emotionally drained he actually forgot to feed Sam until she started barking relentlessly at him) of events.

Did he know where you stood with each other now? Not entirely, but he knew you were both thinking about it. That was a shock and a half to have uncovered on a Wednesday evening.

Did he know what he planned to do within the next few weeks? Kind of.

Had you actually seen or spoken to each other since that day? Not apart from group settings: you’d taken another day off to recover from that little bug you’d caught – of which Sid had managed to avoid catching – and the past two days including this one were full of nothing but red cheeks and a peculiar affinity to wrestle a smile off both your faces if you even so much as looked at each other.

It was a pretty big switch-around from last week, but he welcomed it with…well, he’d honestly never been happier or more excited to be on the edge of starting something with you. He’d thought about it often before, mostly as a weapon to torture himself with when he was already upset over something, remind him of another failure – only that one had been personal and about his life, not anything to do with hockey. It always used to sting more.

He sighed, “Hey, Ryan, try gripping the stick a bit lower, you’ll get more control on your shot next time, ‘kay? Yeah, just like that! Poppy stop poking people in the face with the stick please, I know you find it funny when it gets stuck but it could poke someone’s eye out.” The culprit in question sadly dropped her stick to the ice, and Sid didn’t even have to be near her to know her bottom lip was sticking out in a pout “Thank you.”

It was as Evie pushed forward on her skates with a puck at her feet that something whacked Sid softly on the bum with enough power to send him trailing forwards slightly, but he didn’t take his eyes off the girl in front of him, who sent a powerful slap shot towards the goalie, and the puck couldn’t even be seen until a ding! echoed in the back of the net. Sid huffed a laugh, “Wow, Evie, that was incredible! Keep it up.”

She flashed him an awkward thumbs up, the gloves interfering with the action, and Sid mirrored it before finally turning his attention to a rather beloved blonde. Nate’s brows were halfway up his forehead, mouth contorted like he’d also just breathed a quiet ‘woah’ under his breath, and when he registered Sid was even looking at him, his face melted into one that had become rather synonymous with another person in his life. Nate always smirked when he was about to bring you up to Sid. There were a few occasions where he’d read the room and approached the topic with a bit more consideration, but it appeared this time was no different to usual.

“Kind of reminds me of a certain someone when they were that age, huh?”

Sid clenched his jaw, trying not to give away just how true that statement really was, before muttering a quick, “You’re too young to have known what she was like at that age.”

Nate made a sound that came from the back of his throat, a short huff of laughter passing his lips, “Dude, you’re so easy to read.”

Sid shook his head, “Next!” Another kid skated forward, and both professionals watched as the goalie caught the puck safely in their glove before chucking it across the ice in their general direction.

“Hey, if you want to skate around for a bit, I can watch this drill.” Nate said, intercepting the puck and adding it to the small pile that had slowly been accumulating next to the boards.

Sid frowned, a crease forming between his brows, “Why?” He drawled, rather suspicious of the sudden generosity.

He had a feeling he knew what it was about, but he wasn’t going to speak ahead of himself and make matters worse – Nate already had enough teasing material when it came to his silent pining.

“It’s pretty obvious you’re distracted and it’s been killing me and Taylor watching you. She’s over there,” Nate lifted his stick, pointing to the opposite side of the rink, where Sid could only just now make out the back of your head. He had no idea what had caught your attention so much as to have your back facing the ice– “There’s a little kid on the other side of the glass with a mini-stick. She’s been pulling faces for the past five minutes, and I just thought I’d warn you before you…y’know–”

“Nate, what the eff?” Sid hissed, watching wearily for any kids overhearing.

“I’m just kidding. Kind of.” He grinned, “Go say what you need to say and then come back.”

Sid rolled his eyes, but still patted Nate gently as he skated by, “Thanks.”

Nate just shook his head, waving him off, and Sid took that as his signal to skate away, ignoring the undoubtedly humorous glance Taylor was giving him. It was bad enough that they’d noticed what he was doing at all, let alone to have it pointed out right to his face.

He pushed loose pucks out of the way, skating right around several different drills before crashing into the boards right next to you, his face pressed against the glass to see…three different dribbling toddlers staring up at you both. One had an armful of teddies, the other was wearing a Pens PJ set and the final one was holding a mini stick, the ball left forgotten behind them.

You didn’t even need to turn your head from where you’d leant it against the glass to know who it was that had rather abruptly pulled up beside you. Not only was the side of his face in your peripheral vision enough, but the faces of the parents sitting in the seats were enough to go by. Everyone seemed to sit straighter, smiles a little bit wider at the sight of their local boy interacting with a small herd of toddlers who obviously had no idea who he was.

Except…the kid with the mini stick dropped his fingers from his mouth, stick lazily pointing in Sid’s direction, and even through the glass you could make out the vague words of "Siddie Cosby!” and the excited smile on his face.

Sid waved, spinning the cap on his head the other way around so he could also press his forehead to the glass, and you laughed softly, breath fogging up the panes for a brief moment. The sound had him tilting his head slightly so he could look at you.

He wasn’t sure if he was smiling before he’d turned – he had to have been, though, surely? – but he felt himself smile, if not more than he had been. It was unconscious, like a reflex made worse because you were just so infectious to him.

“Hi.” You muttered lowly, catching him out of the corner of your eye. You didn’t turn your face away from those kids, still pulling funny faces no matter how demanding of your attention he was. You could look at him all you liked later, but for these kids, their moment was this moment.

At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself. Really, you just felt a little too shy looking at him with all those people watching from the stands.

“Hi.” He grinned, also turning his attention back to the kids. The one with the hockey stick suddenly banged on the screen right in front of him, and even despite his quick reflexes, he couldn’t help jumping at the sudden noise in such close proximity.

The kid just giggled, and when Sid cast his eyes to the seats, heart racing in his chest, some of the parents were trying to hide their own laughs behind their hands.

He almost forgot he had an audience.

His tongue darted out nervously to wet his bottom lip, and he felt you look at him rather than saw you do it, “Are you coming to my birthday party tonight?”

There was a brief silence between you both, and you struggled to hold in a laugh as Sid registered what it was that he’d just said. His eyes closed and he leant his forehead against the glass, sighing hard enough to fog it up.

“Yes.” You answered, tone full of amusement.

His eyes opened and he twisted his head, still resting against the glass, “Can I pick you up at five?”

You blinked.

His party starts at seven.

It was probably the easiest yes of your entire life.

#sidney crosby x reader #sidney crosby oneshot #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby fic #nhl player x reader #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey oneshot

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starshipsofstarlord · 11 months ago

Text

Petrova

summary - games were always katherine’s intentions, and as the prized possession and girlfriend of her nemesis and doppelgänger elena gilbert, she just had to have you (2.7k)

warnings - 18+ smut minors dni, fingering, cheating, swearing, slight degradation, mentions of katherine’s past

katherine pierce works other tvd works masterlist

There was one that hated your girlfriend with a deadly intent; her name was Katherine Pierce, she was a destructive vampire, who had taken much a toll on people's lives. It was her life goal to make people sufficiently miserable, for she felt the same, she had been chased for her bloodline for hundreds of years by one of the most powerful families. Her ignited hatred was directed towards Elena Gilbert, the woman that you were dating. Elena was a spark of joy in the darkness that often gloomed over Mystic Falls, she was a symbol of eternal mortality that often had your body intertwined in comfort, however there was something in regard to Katerina Petrova that made your heart rapidly beat, and your palms grow sweaty. They shared the same appearance so perhaps that could have been why you were so drawn to her, but you knew that wasn't it all alone; the aura that she carried was addictive like a drug, it was understandable how both Salvatore brothers had fallen for the promiscuous vampire, claiming to love her at times. And whilst your feelings were not that strong towards the strong immortal, lust encased you each and every time that you thought of her, even if you were in the company of your own girlfriend, of whom you were currently with.

Her locks were straight as she combed her hands through the brunette strands, she was seated by the window in her bedroom, a familiar book beholden in between her fingers as she scrawled on the pages with ink that dispersed from the black pen that she was using. Her journal. It was filled with many secrets and first hand experiences of the dangerous encounters that she faced, and most people would be driven by the darkness inside of their souls to look inside, but you were not, you assumed it was because when it boiled down to it you had your own secrets that you had no intentions to share with Elena, and that you understood that on a personal note that there were some things that people preferred to keep private. And thus, you respected the space that she needed to release her thoughts as you lay on her bed, removing your gaze so that it was aimed up at the ceiling, and allowed your mind to drift away to your own secrets. It went back to Katherine, as though she were a sickness that you just couldn't shake, and that was a rather accurate way to describe it. Admittedly you felt quite an arise of guilt as you were splayed upon your partner's bed thinking of another woman, it wasn't right nor fair.

A part of you wished that you could tell Elena the truth about how you felt, you loved her and you had no goals to hurt her in the way that expressing your dark attraction towards her doppelganger would do. She continuously compared herself to her vampire counterpart, and you didn't need to make her feel any more insecure about their relation and indifferent outer appearances than she already did, and so you sat up, dragging your eyes over to Elena again. The way that she was so invested and lost in recounting her experience was beautiful, it was as though everything, but her body had abandoned this timeline, and that she was becoming a part of the past all over again. It caused a content smile to appear on your face; she was all that you needed, and thus you stood from the bed and began to walk towards her, catching her attention. Her opal brown eyes focused on you, lifting up from the paper she had scribbled upon as she put it on the side beside her. "It's getting rather late, I think I should head out." You told her to which she stood, enclosing the space between the pair of you, unaware of why you were really leaving. The guilt was still eating away at you, and until you awoke in the morning, it would remain there, tomorrow was going to be a fresh start, you planned not to think about Katherine whatsoever.

A small crush never hurt anybody, but this was deeper than that, and would be to Elena also. The best thing to do would be shake all remnants of emotion out of the truth, and prioritise the relationship that you were currently in. Elena wound her arms around your neck, pressing your bodies closer together, and if it were in her fashion you were sure she would have pouted, but that was definitely more of a Katherine thing. "Okay." She spoke with a smile, not suspicious in the slightest which was a major relief. "I'll miss you, and I'll see you tomorrow morning at cheer practice." To put an all-consuming finale to her words, she conjoined your lips, and that was how Katerina Petrova left your mind and was diverted elsewhere in your brain. Your hand weaved into the back of her perfectly styled hair, inherently pulling her closer to rouse more passion into the kiss, ensuring that she knew that you loved her although the pair of you hadn't said those words yet. It wasn't that you didn't feel anything for her, but you forbade yourself from saying such a meaningful sentiment until she was the only one that made your stomach churn and your heart coil from impact of ravenous beats.

Finally, the pair of you split apart, your lips dragging along one another's one last time until that was it. "Bye babe." Your fingers caressed her arm as you retraced your steps out from her room, descending down the stairs and out of the house, to where you saw Jeremy talking to Alaric by his truck. You sent them a wave on your way off the drive as you walked through the streets of Mystic Falls all by your lonesome; it'd have been a stupid thing for just anyone to do, however you knew of the dangers that lurked when the sun set, and to be accurate whilst it was still in the sky. Vampires had the tactical advantage of daylight rings which therefore allowed them to perform their stalking of prey whenever they wished, and they would not disintegrate to ash for it. There was a feeling tugging at your gut when you got closer to your home that you were being followed, you whipped your head around but to no avail saw anything. Either it was all in your head or whatever had an idea to pick you up for dinner knew what they were doing, you had a suspicion of the latter and thus picked up your pace, wanting to get inside to avoid a run in with a bloodsucker.

However you should have known that it would have realised that you had caught onto its almost invisible advances, and one you were about to head down the last turning to reach your home, a hand grabbed you, tugging you into the area between two houses. A tired sigh fell from your lips; you'd recognise that intoxicating perfume any day, you'd spent hours trying to get this particular vampire out of your head and when you had finally managed to do so, she chooses to track you down. "What do you want Katherine?" The brunette cocked her head at you, snickering lightly at your question, as though she were amused by interlocking two brothers to be in love with her, which she had done before. And now you were her target, she would strip you down to your very core until you were a withering servant to her heart, and make you forget all about her doppelganger. She was far more interesting anyways, and exciting and could show you far more than the small town girl that you had committed yourself to.

But you loved Elena, she was the one that you knew logically you could have a future with, rather than being on the run with for the rest of your sorry life. "I thought it was obvious," she carried a sprawled and prideful smile upon her features, as her chocolate eyes probed at you for a selfish purpose, and you felt adequately drawn into her sultry trap. And the worst thing was, you couldn't find it in yourself to be swallowing guilt, she had captured you and intermingled your essence into her deviousness, even after all of the horrid games that she had played. You should of resented everything of her entire being, considering her satire feud against your partner and friends, however her very personality beneath her traumatic past made you evoke pity for the woman.

Sighing heavily, you kept your eyes fixed, forcing them not to roll at the suspension that she purposely left you with. "You aren't getting anything from me Katherine, so knock off the act. Leave me and Elena alone, maybe occupy yourself with Damon and Stefan as you once had; you've already ruined their lives, so allow the rest of us to get on with our own." But despite your words, that wasn't what you'd ever admit that you wanted, you loved the adrenaline that you experienced when you were in her resented company, it was dangerous and exciting, and you hated that you felt addicted to it - to her. She cocked a fragrant smile once again, her irises illuminating with deviancy, which was nothing estranged from Katherine's usual self.

"I don't care about little, precious Elena," she blankly and openly stated, daring to inch closer to your personal space which you had previously accounted to be forbidden. "However I am quite enamoured with you, perhaps you'd enjoy 'spending time' with somebody who is more exhilarating than Elena." Katherine Pierce was a confident woman, and she enjoyed putting Elena in where she thought to be her place, however you couldn't cave without a dire purpose, you did love Elena... but the sweet pungency of her perfume hit your nostrils, making your brain delirious and no doubt your actions swayed by her vixen like seduction. "Come on y/n/n, live a little. I'd be pleased to be her upgraded replacement, after all, I always get what I want."

"And you want me?" You pretended to sound astounded, an aghast facade of shock exhibiting across your face as your brows drew wearingly together. But you weren't nervous about Katherine's actions, you wanted to have control over your own, to be stubborn against her effective persuasion. Too many had fallen victim to her cunning sexual appeal, and whilst you couldn't fault them to the magnetising tug that she pulled them in with as you were conditioned with the same plague, you couldn't do that out of not only the respect that you held towards those you cared for, but yourself as well. But your body fought aggressively against your rationalising mind, desiring to be dangerously closer to the immortal woman before you.

"I haven't been vacant about that fact," she once again moved closer, her face directly before yours, "and I can't blame myself. I've always loved the chase after a beautiful woman, but the time is up and the game is finally over, because Elena or no Elena, I will take what I want, just like she did with the Salvatores." She was using the mention of Damon and Stefan to bait you, you remembered watching them pine after your girlfriend and it awoke a fuse within your human soul. Jealousy, you shared the feeling of which the vampire in your eye line held for your relationship with her soft natured doppelgänger, and it brewed a heavy weight in your chest. She had you exactly where she had intended, and she took it as her vast opportunity to whisk her face significantly closer, brushing her poisonous lips against your own.

"Then prove it Katherine." The sin washed over you, and before you knew it your body was against the uncomfortable brick wall behind you, her mouth practically devouring your own. And you hated to pursue such a cheat, but Katherine always had a point, no matter how cruel and satire it was to be. Your heart patted in your vulnerable body like a blood induced marathon, and the monster in disguise could hear every beat, and it only aroused her slyness farther. It would be sensible and a control of your morals to stop kissing her, but the way her hands massaged your hips had you squirming in conjunction to pressing your thighs together that were trapped from a sexual relief.

It was her intention to prove everything to you, and your muse of a body, she could sense through all of her versatile abilities that she was driving you stirringly insane. "I told you I get exactly what I want." She hissed from the barricade of your clashing teeth, her hands creeping inwards and creeping up to the button of your jeans, expertly zipping down its metallic fly. You were already wet, and although she knew already knew due to her stern direction of scent, it held no comparison to feeling your wetness drizzle wantonly down her fingers that had discovered the inside of your underwear.

She twirled her experienced digits around your folds, before drifting upwards to your sensitive clit, that yearned for attention every time that the enemy that shared an appearance with your girlfriend was near. "Fuck." You whimpered, throwing your head back and resting it on the neighbourhood architecture, pouting when she decided to neglect your rosey bud of pleasure, however she had no discern to uphold the desperate contact that she shared with you. Instead she travelled further between your spasming thighs, drifting the length of her finger through your wet entrance, and it easily glided inside.

"I doubt Elena has ever had you like this, holding pretty tears in your eyes." She taunted you, smirking wickedly when she added another within your walls, picking up the pace in which she fucked you with them. You wanted to bite back, yell or scream a phrase of argument, but your current predicament proved otherwise. You grew closer to the overwhelming edge, your head growing delirious, and you realised that you had never been pushed towards an orgasm so fast in such little time. "Cum for me y/n, you know you want to." It was impossible to do anything but obey the dominant brunette, and thus you followed suit of her words, your cunt clenching tightly around her two fingers as you reached your blissful landing upon your orgasm.

A few minutes passed before she retracted her fingers from within you, your mind continuing to be hazy for a long and silent moment, and you missed witnessing Katherine feeding herself from your juices that had spilled over her fingers. As you opened your eyes despite the dreary wash of endorphins that stunned your mind, reality came crashing down, and you ushered a distance from Katerina Petrova, your hands grasping at the realisation that appeared to be in your hair follicles. "Shit! Elena..." You were a cheater, as bad as Katherine back when she toyed with the brothers that had been poised as her puppets, and you had fallen as her prey.

"It's okay, it can be our little secret. And so can next time." She agonisingly attempted to comfort you, reaching her hand up to grab at your face, however this time you didn't hesitate to slap it away, overcome with guilt that should have stopped you from swaying along with her ploy of getting in your pants, and intently your heart. "No." You ushered back at her, imposing a state of redress upon yourself as you recoiled with disgust at yourself. "It shouldn't have happened, and it won't ever happen again." But the traitorous villain before you had the feeling that you were telling a lie, as she had told many in the span of over 500 long and disturbed years whilst she ran away from those that wished to hunt her. They were bigger predators, Originals, but you were merely a human, and the target of a spiteful vampire that would take everything she wanted.

#katherine pierce smut #katherine pierce x reader #katherine pierce imagine #tvd x reader #tvd smut #vampire diaries x reader #vampire diaries imagine #vampire diaries fanfiction #vampire diaries #tvd x you

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izzabela · 6 months ago

Note

Hi there! Could write different scenarios of the Lin Kuei brothers who are watching a TV show with their significant other for the first time and a sensual scene comes on and they don't know how to respond between embarrassed and slightly turned on but trying to conceal it (yet failing to lol), and the reader notices it and finds it amusing and teasing them about it? 🤭

Is This Media? - Lin Kuei Trio x GN!reader (scenario fic & modern au)

in which Tomas, Kuai Liang, and Bi Han react to the shows you watch (Bridgerton S2-3 & Queen Charlotte spoilers!)

a/n: as a child, my parents often covered my eyes during kiss scenes or any romance, so I have some ideas on how they'd react

ship[s]: tomas, kuai liang, bi han x gn!reader (scenario fic)

warning(s): suggestive end(s)

Bi Han

Rotting is only for food, plants, and dead animals.

So the fact that Bi Han managed to waste a day on the couch, with you, wrapped in fluffy blankets, with chips on both side of you, and watching Bridgerton, was an incredible feat in it of itself.

Although it was your day off, Bi Han decided to end his own day early, handing off his responsibilities to his brothers back at the office. He had full faith in them, and he missed you (on the DL though). He felt as if he didn't spend enough time with you, so home he went.

He was hoping to hit the gym with you, walk around the park, even go out to those café's you enjoyed. However, when he found you wrapped up like a little babushka with the blanket over your head and chips in your mouth, he knew you had planned something out for the both of you.

So now, he lays next to you as you watch the latest season of Bridgerton, season three with Penelope and Colin. Truth be told, you were watching because Anthony and Kate were making huge cameos, but the season turned out to be decent in your eyes. Bi Han, on the other hand, complained about every little thing.

"The costumes aren't historically accurate," he grumbled at one scene, biting his chip angrily.

"Symbolism seems to be a petty scapegoat in these kinds of shows" he groaned at another scene, one with Penelope writing some stuff down. "I mean, her name is 'Pen' and she holds a quill- how obvious does it get?!"

Seriously, he reminded you of your dad when watching these types of shows.

Now it came to the turning point of the romance, and both characters managed to be alone together. The screen was filled with tension, and the fact both characters are so close, a millimeter from touching, killed you.

"Kiss! Come on, Colin, don't flake now!" you squealed, gripping onto Bi Han's hand as your wishes came true.

While you were giggling your feet like a school girl who just got asked out, Bi Han was quiet and still. His eyes remained glued on the screen, watching as both characters explored one another (to the length they were allowed to go for the rating).

He could feel his pants and underwear suddenly becoming tight, his body growing just a degree warmer, and a warm flush grow on his cheeks and ears. He coughs, trying to distract himself, then reaches for your water bottle on the coffee table in front of you.

You gasp at the betrayal, watching him down the water fast. Like a parched athlete, he's finally done and wipes his mouth after one last gulp. You may have laughed at first, but when you see him shift his pants from under the blanket, the full picture is drawn.

Your eyes catch how his eyes don't meet yours, the pink on his ears and cheeks, even the way he's breathing. He's covering his face and turning away, hoping you leave him alone.

"L-let us continue!" he huffs as he sits back down, his legs bent in a way so the blanket doesn't land on his crotch area.

You turn to him with a sly brow and a smirk, scooting closer to him as you tease your boyfriend.

"Are you... nervous dear?" You poke his cheek as he tries to play it off. "Pen and Colin's scene got you acting all crazy?"

"Don't fill your head with delusion," Bi Han says gruffly, turning away like a toddler who got caught stealing cookies. You just laugh as you keep making fun of him, teasing him for his reactions to Hollywood magic.

You coo and place your hand under his cheek, turning it gently to pepper his face in kisses as an apology for "being mean". As you placed kisses on his forehead, nose, and eyelids, he catches your lips in his as he shoves his tongue in the tavern of your mouth. His hand cups your cheek, and you dig your hands into his hair.

When you finally pull away, you boop his nose and giggle, "Still embarrassed?" Bi Han just scoffs, topping you on the couchas he cages you with his arms.

Bi Han throws the blanket away from his body, lifting his shirt over his head to reveal his firm body.

"We'll see who's embarrassed after this."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kuai Liang

You cuddled in close to Kuai Liang as you two watched an episode of Bridgerton season two. In order for you to prepare for season three, you decided to rewatch the other two seasons (plus Queen Charolette) to remind yourself where you were in the series.

Kuai Liang had just finished taking a shower, since he came home from work at the office with his brothers. He wasn't supposed to be seated here, his services were needed to make dinner, but here he was.

You giggled as you fed yourself popcorn from the huge bowl that sat in between your left leg and Kuai's right leg. While you were enjoying the show, Kuai Liang sat there an scrutinized every detail of the show.

You first watched the show by yourself, as Kuai Liang was busy doing his own thing. However, during this rewatch marathon of yours, he began to watch the show. It started with him standing from the kitchen, arms crossed as he examined everything in the show.

He knew he and his brothers acted similarly, but even twins are not a hundred percent the same (they aren't twins, just making a comparison). Unlike Bi Han, who was vocal on the cheesiness of the show, Kuai Liang remained silent and reserved. He wasn't completely emotionless, as he laughed during some parts that he found amusing.

What he didn't laugh at, though, was the raunchy scene between Kate and Anthony.

You watch the scene with wide and intense eyes, the characters leaving the ballroom only to meet under the gazebo of the Bridgerton backyard. The scene is filled with forbidden love, secrets, and the undying need to touch one another.

"I don't understand, they were dancing so well together, why are they mad?" He asks, genuinely perplexed at the change-up of the actors' feelings.

Ah, you forgot he didn't understand subtle acting. And the fact he asks many questions during these kinds of shows.

You squeal, gripping onto Kuai Liang's bicep as you explain the scene to him.

"Anthony is supposed to be hitting it off with Kate's little sister, but he doesn't like her like that. They danced together like that because Kate was trying to leave for India, to get away from him and his love..."

The scene suddenly changes, and both actors are all over each other as they dive into one another's mouths. The erotic sounds of their moans and groans fills the surround system of the T.V., and Kuai Liang finds himself uncomfortable at the sudden display of... hefty affection.

You scream, practically bursting his eardrum, but he finds it enjoyable because you're so excited.

Did he find the show predictable and boring? Yes.

Did he love you in your entirety? Even more yes.

And that trumps every other emotion he could ever feel towards this show.

As the characters kiss, Kuai just sits in contemplation at the media in front of him. Since when did media get to this point? He thinks, adjusting himself in his seat.

As much as he tries to remain calm and collected, his neck is slightly pink and warm to the touch. His palms also begin to sweat buckets, and you can see him rub his hands up and down his legs as he tries to wipe the signs of nervousness away.

You're gripping onto his bicep as you watch Kate and Anthony go at it like starving wolves, however his arm is a bit wet. You look up at your boyfriend and see his nervous face.

Cheeky ideas fill your mind as you watch Kuai Liang's furrowed brow, the sweat that crawling down his face, and his straight and pursed lips. You giggle as you look between the growing sensuality of the scene and Kuai Liang, finally piecing the puzzle together.

He was flushed, and all due to Hollywood screenwriting. Adorable.

You go snd sit on his lap, using your arm to wipe the sweat on his forehead (and using this opportunity). You chuckle at his preteen reaction to your show, squishing his cheeks as you tease him. He rolls his eyes as a joke, placing his hands on your hips to keep you steady.

"Hot and bothered over scripted sets?" you giggle some more. "The mighty Kuai Liang, downed by a simple love scene!"

Kuai Liang pulls you closer with one arm, and his other crawls to the back of your head as your nose and his almost touch. In his lap, you can feel the growing muscle in his crotch area, and suddenly you're reminded of your position in all of this.

You gulp nervously, and Kuai Liang plants a loving kiss on your forehead.

"We'll see who's high and mighty after this scene."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tomas

Tomas doesn't remember watching a movie in his youth.

Before his family passed, movies were considered a luxury due to their economic status. Although adopted into a new family, movies were not really in the picture, either, since he was raised into supporting Bi Han alongside Kuai Liang.

It was through you he saw the beauty in movies, the cheesiness of Hollywood, and the talent of amazing screenwriters.

Through you, he saw horrific tales of slasher films, dramas of soap operas, even Hallmark. With more time, he discovered streaming shows thanks to your endless subscriptions.

He also realized how romance was your go-to genre, and how you were obsessed with Bridgerton at the very moment.

Was he just as attached as you? Yes.

He found the spin off much more endearing, since the chemistry between both actors felt so real. The script was amazing, not to mention he cried a bit.

Right now, you two were watching the spin off, Queen Charlotte, as it was the latest release before season 3.

You two stayed in your bedroom, as there was a TV inside. Cuddled close, you two had an assortment of snacks on top of a towel in between both of you.

You watched with a slack jaw and a palm full of cookies as the scene where the king and queen are in front of a fire, only in pajamas, and flirting heavily.

"Oh my goodness," you gasp as you turn to Tomas, who's a bit confused.

"What, my dear?" he asks, quirked brow and a perplexed face.

"It's the 'I'm good with buttons' scene!" you exclaim and shove a cookie in your mouth.

Tomas turns back to the screen and watches how the king slowly walks up to the queen, says the line, and slowly kisses her.

Cutely, Tomas raises his arms up to hide behind them, only peeking through his fingers to check. As he checks, the scene grows more and more haughty, and so does he.

Tomas is pink from neck to forehead, his hands covered his face completely, and he's got a raging boner in his pants. It wasn't the actress, no (though she is beautiful), it was the scene itself.

I mean, when did media do this?

As Tomas coughs to try and cool himself down, shifting in his seat, your head is turned to his attention. It's so obvious what he's trying to hide, and he isn't doing a good job either.

You scoot closer to him, nudging him with your elbow as you tease him.

"How many times have we watched movies like this, and you still get so flustered!" you tease him and he just groans as he tries to play it cool.

"Darling please," he whines as he turns away. "It's just so... explicit!"

You laugh as you kiss his hand that covers his face, "Come on, honey, it isn't that bad."

You pry his fingers off until his cute pink face in view. You giggle as you kiss his nose, then his cheek, settling into his lap as you do so.

You can feel his rock hard member locked away behind is pants, and both of you are trapped in an air of lust and wanting.

Tomas voices his wanting, using his newfound skills from the show.

"I'm just as good with button, if you want to test my skills."

=====================

EASY MONEY

guys my inbox is getting full i love this

okay see yall in the next fic!

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viandclintbarton-supremacy · 1 month ago

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Do you see a lion when you look inside of me? (Mary Earps x !Earps Male Reader)

"It all comes down to penalties at the Semi final of the Champions League.

Will it be Man City or Arsenal. The fate of the game lies in Ederson's and Y/N Earp's hands"

You step up and face Grealish who was waiting for the whistle to blew. It feels like forever but the whistle blew.

He ran up, you didn't move. He was about to strike. You read it and dove to the right. The ball went to the right and landed in the firm grip of your hands

"EARPS GETS IT!" You get shaking you head in defiance. You loved Jack but he is your enemy right now.

As you watch Saka shoot against Ederson and he dove in the wrong direction......Saka missed, he missed. You shook your head before walking back

Next was Kalvin Philps, you locked eyes with him as he ran down to the ball but you frowned as you saw him chip it, You caught it with anger "WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I AM" as you kicked the ball away. "SHOW ME SOME FUCKING RESPECT. FUCK OFF" You said walking back as Kalvin was sent packing.

You watched Gabriel take the pen and your belief shattered as he struck the post. You starred in disbelief before regaining your senses. "Time to rev it up then" You said as you notice a pattern you hope didn't continue

You saved Dias's shot

Ederson saved Partey's shot

You saved Stones's Shot

Jorginho sent his wide

You saved Rodri's shot

Ederson saved Ødegaard Shot

Haaland sent his to the left post

Rice sent his wide

You were angry, How was your team missing! You have seen them practice pens. HELL YOU WERE IN GOAL WHEN THEY DID!

The Arsenal crowd were cheering you, they showed believe in you as you keeping them in the game. Ederson was frustrated, He let only saved to but if Jorginho, Saka and Rice didn't send wide they would have gone in as all of there shots sent Ederson the wrong way

You took a deep breath, Hearing the rain fall but the drops fading from your sight as you starred at the ball, You started to loosen up as you saw Kevin De Bruyne place it down. You felt the adrenaline pumping. You were having a man of the match performance. You played over 125 minutes saving over 20 shots on goal and no balls past you. If you were able to be on social media, You would see you were trending, The Arsenal women's team, Football friends, fans, pundits were singing your praise. Especially your sister Mary. She was so proud of you in general but her reaction online made fans love the antics

You heard the whistle blow, KDB took one glance at you before he ran, You saw for a spilt second were his eyes went as he started his run. You read his body and he shot the ball. You dove to the right following the ball. You felt the contact on your gloves, You pushed it to the side. You did it! You were going to the final!......

*ding*

You layed on your front as you starred were the ball layed....in the back of the net. You did push the ball but not enough to avoid the goal post that knocked it in. You starred at the ball. The adrenaline gone, the resolve you had gone, Motivation gone. You blocked out the sounds as you felt the dreams of a Champions League winner gone up in smoke. What was heartbreaking to the everyone else, well except the city players and fans was you.

You may of been in your own shattered world but all they saw on screen in front of them was this keeper who put everything into this match and season stare at the ball with a look that shattered hearts. Even when Ederson gripped your shoulder and said "You are a hero kid" You sighed and and sat up on your knees not able to look up at him. You just looked at the ball and thought about the hard work meant nothing.

It took you 5 minutes to stand up, still looking down. You were still in your own world as you made your way off the pitch. You then heard the clapping you finally managed to look up. To your surprise there were still many fans in the seats and all of them were starring at you, clapping. Giving you a standing ovation. You felt tears coming and shook your head as you hurried down the tunnel, Still hearing them chanting your name as you walk past your teammates who didn't look at you, City players, staff. You then felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned and it was Pep. You gave him a deflated look as he grabbed your head to stay at him "Do not let this defeat break you Earps. I have seen many Keepers but you. You are the future" After a nod he gave to you and patted your back with passion. You felt overwhelmed so much is going on. You just wanted to go to sleep and be alone. You didn't bother showering you just hurried out. Ignoring the press and went straight to your car and drove in the now raining city of London.

You felt your phone vibrate but was focusing on the road, it wasn't until you got into your driveway that you looked at your phone. You saw the notifications but you felt no interests in communicating with anyone

You got indoors and dropped your belongings on the couch before heading to the bathroom. You started to run your ice bath, you couldn't get rid of the feeling that was plaguing your mind and soul right now. Once the ice bath was ready. You striped off and slowly got in, feeling the shock of the cold run through your body. You breathed out heavily as you sunk into the water, only your head above water.

It was then, in that lonely room. The thoughts came

It's your fault

Your a failure

Dissapointment

Why can't you be like Mary

You will never get a call up

You let us down

Just quit.....

Elsewhere

"Bless him" Rachel daly would say as she watched Y/N laying down on the field starring at the ball. "I just want to hug him" Millie bright said pouting.

Mary didn't respond in the room. She is on international duty and the team were watching the game. Mary was heartbroken. She knew it was your dream to win the champions league but she never, ever saw you like this. The hyper man child that was always happy and was always there for her. Now had a face with no emotion as he starred at the ball. She wanted nothing more then to hug you in that moment. But she felt so helpless being in another country. She normally wouldn't worry, You would always get up and move on but that look you had sent shivers down her spine.

She thought back to how she felt being knocked out the champions league, Losing the finals of the world cup and being knocked out the nations league. She hated the pain she felt and she hated that you were in that place right now.

"You alright" She felt a hand on her shoulder, shaking her from her thoughts. She turned to see Lucy and Leah "Just worried about him" The duo gave a sad smile. "He will be fine, Its F/N. He never stops" L praised you, She met you years ago when Mary became a England international. You were very supportive of your sister so you crossed paths a lot with Lucy and other Lionesses. And Leah was a close friend of yours since you joined Arsenal. If there was one thing they learnt about you is that you shared your sister's passion and drive. Lucy saw that 'Don't stop' attitude she has in you and Leah sees the potential of you being a captain at Arsenal.

"I will back in a moment" Mary said uncharacteristically as she left the room in a hurry. Feeling the eyes of some of the girls watching her leave. She took out her phone and wasted no time in going to her contacts and looked up your name. She wondered what to type, She knew that you may need a rest to get your head straight but she also wants to let you know, you are not alone. She starts to draw comparison to her World Cup final loss and how it made her feel.

"Mary?" Mary turned to see Millie with a sad smile. She isn't surprised that Millie followed. There were close friends, she wouldn't be surprised if Millie was concerned about you, Millie practically became your sister from another mister. "Are you ok?" she felt the woman place a hand on her shoulder. Mary sighed "I just want him to know im proud of him." Millie patted her back "He knows that maz, Give him time, He only just lost. We both know what its like after we lose big games" Mary gave a sad smile and rested her head on Millies shoulder and she decided to text you and wait for you to reply.

One day past. Then two days. then a week.

Mary was filled with anxiety and worry. You weren't responding to her calls, texts, or nothing. She didn't know what to do. She had managed to get in touch with Ramsdale, who said you were sent home for a week to cool off. When asked what he meant. He explained.

During a training session, you couldn't help but be frustrated at the boys for how they blanked you and let you down that night.

So when you were practising penalties, you didn't give a shit about feelings

Ødegaard took his shot and you saved it

"Oh wow, you get it on target," you said sarcastically, making the blonde man confused at your attitude. Ramsdale waiting behind the net couldn't help but feel worried about you

Rice took his next. He sent his wide. The boys had a laugh at his embarrassment as he showed a smile to them, accepting the poor shot. "With that shooting, I'm surprised you're a pro," you said nonchalantly as you readjusted your gloves. Rice faced showed a frown. He knew you were pissed at him, but this made him uneasy. You were always one to for sorry for themselves for a minute and then move on to the next

"What's up with you, Earps?" Martin spoke up. You looked at him. "What's up with you lot? I played like shit yesterday, and now you guys can't give a score from a few feet out." Rice, Ramsdale, and Jesus, step in between you both as you both walked towards each other. "You need to show respect, Earps," You scoffed. "Don't misplace my criticism for respect dipshit".

From there, the whole team gathered around you two. Some love it, some feeling uncomfortable, but Arteta was furious. He sternly told you to go to his room. He practically had to follow you to the room

Once you sat down, looking out to the window. He stood facing you from his side of the desk. "I get you are frustrated with what happened, but this is a TEAM GAME. You show up and treat those players like family and have their backs-" You stood up feeling the anger boil over as your face turned red hot

"HAVE THIER FUCKING BACKS!? I WAS BASICALLY THE ONLY PERSON THAT KEPT US IN THAT GAME YESTERDAY! AND EVEN THEN WHEN THEY HAD PENALTIES THEY COULDNT EVEN MANAGE THAT FUCKING TASK" You let out with anger and venom. Areteta is looking at that side of you no one would believe existed. You deep breath and lowered your voice and looked at him leaning forward, placing your hands on the table. "But the one thing that really ticks me off. The looks they gave me, the disappointment, not even coming to comfort as I sat there at the goal. Family? Fucking he'll the city players gave me more attention after that game then them and you" You ranted. Arteta understood your frustration. He even tried to ignore your city comment. Seeming he had heard certain news that day. He signed. "I'm sorry about this situation, but it's clear we can't discuss this until you have cooled down.

For the next 2 weeks, you are suspended due to your actions of unprofessional actions. " You looked at him with a" Are you kidding me, voice. You wanted to say something but you just laughed in disabelif and threw your hands up "Fuck you, Fuck Arsenal, Fuck Football" you said leaving the room. I'm leaving Arteta alone, hoping you would cool off. He looked at a contact on his phone and debated a call to someone.

Mary was stressed as she drove down the road that leads to your house

Mary's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, her thoughts racing as she navigated the familiar road leading to your house. It had been days since she last heard from you and despite all her messages and calls, you hadn't responded. She knew you were hurting, she has been here before and knows the journey of the pain. and the thought of you spiralling deeper into your own mind tore her apart.

She tried to stay calm, reminding herself that you'd always been resilient, but she couldn’t shake the image of you after the match your body laying on the pitch, staring at the ball . The look in your eyes haunted her.

Pulling up to your driveway, she parked and sat in the car for a moment, taking a deep breath. This wasn’t just any visit. This was her coming to be there for her little brother, the one who had always been her biggest supporter, her anchor in the darkest moments. Now it was her turn to be the anchor.

She stepped out of the car, the rain softly pattering against the ground. The cool air did little to ease the tightness in her chest. She walked to your door, hesitating only for a moment before knocking gently. She didn’t need to shout, didn’t need to force anything.

The door creaked open and there you were, standing with dishevelled hair, eyes dull and tired, showing you hadn't slept in days. Mary’s heart broke all over again. She could see the pain in your eyes, the same pain that mirrored her own after her World Cup final loss. She wanted to hug you, to comfort you, but she knew you weren’t ready for that yet.

“Hey,” she whispered softly, her voice trembling slightly. “Can I come in?”

You didn’t say anything at first, just stepped aside to let her in. She entered quietly, her eyes scanning your living room. It was quiet, almost too quiet, save for the sound of the rain outside. The atmosphere was suffocating, the weight of your grief hanging in the air.

You sat on the couch, head down, arms crossed, as if you were trying to protect yourself from everything. Mary sat next to you, close but not too close. She didn’t want to overwhelm you, but she couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

“Y/N I know this hurts. I know it feels like everything you worked for is slipping away, but you’re not alone in this. You’ve never been alone.”

You didn’t respond, your eyes still fixed on the floor and shuffled your feet.

“I know you feel like you failed. That you let people down. But listen to me, you didn’t. Not in the slightest,” she continued, her voice gentle but firm. “You did something incredible out there. You fought for every single moment. And I’m proud of you. You need to know that.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a split second, you looked up at her, your eyes searching her face as if looking for some kind of reassurance. But then you looked away, your hands gripping the fabric of your blanket

Mary sighed, her heart aching. She knew you needed time, but she couldn’t just sit by and watch you destroy yourself with guilt.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it now,” she continued, “but this is just one chapter of your story. And there’s so much more waiting for you. I know the pain feels like it’s never going to end, but it will. You’ll get through it, just like I did. We all have our moments where we fall short, but that doesn’t define us.”

A long silence passed between you two and Mary sat there, waiting, hoping you would speak. She didn’t push you, didn’t try to force anything. She knew how you worked, when you were ready to talk, you would. But she also knew how important it was to be there, even in silence.

After a long while, you finally spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I let everyone down. I let myself down. Maybe I’m not cut out for this…”

Mary’s heart shattered at those words. She could feel the weight of your pain in every syllable. But she wasn’t going to let you give up not on yourself, not on the dream you’d worked so hard for.

“Y/N, you are so much stronger than this. You’ve always been the fighter, the one who doesn’t back down. You’ve been through so much, and look at where you are. Look at everything you’ve achieved.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them back, not wanting to show the vulnerability you felt.

“I just… I don’t know what to do,” you said, your voice breaking. “I thought I was ready. I thought I was good enough. But now… I just don’t feel like I am.”

Mary reached out then, gently placing her hand over yours. You didn’t pull away.

“You are more than good enough. You always have been. And you will bounce back from this. I believe in you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

There was a long pause before you finally spoke again, quieter this time. “I don’t know if I can face them again. The team. I feel like they’ve all moved on, and I’m stuck.”

Mary squeezed your hand reassuringly. “You don’t have to face them all at once. Take it one step at a time. And if you need me, I’m here. Always. But know this—you will heal. And when you do, you’ll come back stronger than ever.”

For the first time in days, you felt a small flicker of hope. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to remind you that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way out of the darkness. And Mary would be there, no matter how long it took.

#football imagine #england football #imagine #woso community #woso imagine #woso #woso x reader #mary earps #mary earps imagine #mary earps x reader

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tomhockstetter7-111 · 1 month ago

Text

Highest Form of Empathy - Chapter 2

2k+ words

Logan X Empath!Reader

It's a blessing and a curse, feeling other's pain. More so when you can take it away, albeit at the expense of your own peace. One-night stands were a usual for you. That's all this was supposed to be. But, seeing someone in so much pain, you couldn't leave him like that. You just couldn't. Besides, it's not like you'd ever see him again.....

CW: N/A

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Late December, 2005

Calgary, Alberta

Waking to the sound of your alarm, you shut it down and stare at the ceiling. Your brain feels…empty. No noise, no anxieties, no urgencies? Just an ominous, heavy quiet.

'Deal with it later,' you told yourself. Well, now is later, and you don’t even know where to start.

You lay in bed, arm slung over your eyes when your second alarm breaks the deafening silence.

It’s not until you drag yourself out from under the covers and swing your legs over the edge of the bed, placing your feet on the icy floor, that you realize the weight of your body. You want to cry. But, why? Screwing your eyes shut, you spend the better part of ten minutes staring at the wood floor as you try to pull yourself together. You still see his eyes, no longer pools to get lost in, but two voids threatening to swallow you whole. All that pain wrapped in one person…you thought you could handle it.

Walking into work, you’re approached by blonde hair pulled into a stylized ponytail waving cheerfully at you. Amber. You met during lunch break on her first day of work two years ago. She seemed so excited to be here, introducing herself despite the prickly exterior you surrounded yourself in. Try as you did to push her away, her clinginess paired with her cheerful disposition making you recoil, you couldn’t find it in yourself to push her away. Soon enough, the two of you settled into a weekly routine of Friday night drinks. She often jokes that she adopted you that first day, but she was more a lost puppy following you home in the rain. And, what monster kicks the puppy? You never let her too close, though. You learned long ago about the safety of arm’s length.

She wraps you in a friendly side hug and you try not to tense under her touch. “You look like hell.”

"Thanks?" You give an awkward smile.

"Just calling it like it is."

You shrug her off as you approach the break room.

"So, what was his name?" She asks the question in a high sing-song tone.

"Pardon?"

She throws a smirk your way. "I'm not dumb. I know that look."

You knit your eyebrows together. What look? Your "look" was a practiced, neutral meant to keep nosy people at bay. Still, you decide to entertain her. "Actually, I don't know." You watch in amusement as her expression turns into one of frustration.

"You need to stop doing that. It's not healthy, you know."

"Why?" You grab your water from the fridge and shut the door a little too firmly. “I’m still young. Let me have fun.”

"You know that's not what I meant. Drinking and sleeping your sorrows away after every hard day. It's gonna affect your work. Not to mention put you in an early grave."

You brushed off her comments with an eye roll. What did she know? What did anyone know, really? They didn't have to work so hard to block out others' emotions and they certainly didn't know what it was like needing to hide what you are all the time.

"Amber, I've told you time and time again." You put a hand on her shoulder in reassurance. "I'll be fine."

She shoots you an incredulous look. “I’m allowed to worry.”

“I’m not a patient, Amber,” you say as you head towards the door. “Besides, I’ve lasted this long.”

“Not sustainable. If I let my child die, it ruins my track record.”

“Your child’s a grown ass adult. She’ll be fine.” You make your way down the hall leaving no more room for argument.

Sitting in your office you drum a pen on your desk and stare at the wall. A patient canceled, so, now, you have an hour and fifteen to kill. Unfortunately, you've already lost half of it staring at the wall.

Your power had a cool down rate, kind of like a video game power up. Depending on emotional intensity and the amount you absorb, it could take between two to twenty-four hours for your brain to return to baseline. Still, you would feel the severeness lessen over time. But, for whatever reason, this round is taking its sweet damn time. It didn’t help that you spent so much of your time wondering what would have caused those feelings. Was he a veteran? Abused, maybe? Shit, maybe his mom or spouse had just fucking died or something.

"The fuck did I get myself into?" You mumble to the air.

Emotional trade-offs are something you avoid for this exact reason. It’s self destructive, ego stroking, and, frankly, not your fucking job. Therapists are meant to help work through emotions and find avenues for healing, not give a quick fix that disappears after a few days. As tempting as it was to just take away a client's despair during a spiral, it would do more harm than good in the long run.

On top of that, it just wouldn’t do well to expose yourself like that. You could see the headlines now. "Mutant Therapist Uses Mind Control Powers to Gain Access to Classified Government Files" or “Rogue Mutant Turns Canadian Leader to Human Puppet - Wants Full Control” or some shit.

Then again, who knows? Maybe they would raise your pay grade if they knew just how valuable an asset you were. You'd always been told you were so easy to talk to, always sitting there quietly as people spilled their woes. Maybe it was a passive effect of your power? You never bothered to look further. It certainly made it easier to empathize with others, though. You could think of a few clients that could benefit looking through someone else’s eyes.

The ring of your office's landline snaps you away from your thoughts. You rush to pick it up. You greet the voice on the other line with your best customer service voice stating both the company's name and that they’ve reached your office.

"Brilliant! I’ve been looking to reach you. How are you today?" He asks.

You blink slowly. "Doing fine. How about yourself?" Isn't it your job to ask how others are?

"Lovely, my dear, thank you. My name is Charles Xavier. I run a school in New York state for gifted children. We're looking to hire a general health teacher and counselor for the students."

"Oh, um...my apologies, sir. But, I'm not trained to work with minors." And, you aren’t. You specifically work with adults because the emotional regulation is so much better than with teenagers. Usually, anyway. Not to mention you know how abysmal teacher pay was.

"I assure you, that won't be a problem. Those attending the school are very well behaved. Furthermore, they really could use someone to talk to that understands their struggle."

"Sorry. I'm not sure I understand. Why is that me specifically?" There was a short silence on the other line. "Hello?"

"I know what you are."

Your heart dropped, hands running cold. "Sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”

"No, I think you do. Trust, everyone here is much like you, myself included. I’m merely calling to make an offer. You work with us, help the students, and I can help you to refine your abilities. You have more than you're using." It’s an appealing offer. But, you’re skeptical. The last thing you need is to move back home, or worse, run and avoid any sort of danger. Just because the world seems to be opening up to mutants doesn't mean it is. Plenty of the public are still very much afraid. You know that much by proxy of your job.

You sigh. "How do I know I can trust you? I've built a life for myself here, and I've worked very hard to keep myself safe. I won't leave it behind just to walk into a fire."

"I assure you, you won't.” His voice is calm from the other end and seems genuinely sincere. “I don't expect an answer now. But, if you change your mind, I’m happy to give you my number."

There’s a long pause as you digest his words. "When you say 'gifted children’, do you mean..." you trail off, not trusting your voice.

"I run a school where children and staff with mutations can thrive in a place they feel accepted. We teach the students valid skills like science and literature along with scenario simulations to refine their powers. But…” He hesitates, “these children are still human. Thus, they have the minds of such and require proper guidance."

"How do you even know who I am?" You snap.

"I have several connections around the world. I’ve used them many times to reach out to those who could benefit from our space. That said, I can assure you I mean you no harm. You may reject the offer if you like, and you shan't hear from me again. I only wish to offer an opportunity."

You stare out the window as he talks. Maybe this could be good for you. Having cut off contact with your mother, and with no one to leave behind, except Amber, — you can’t decide if that’s good or bad — what do you have to lose? "You said there was a number I could call back?"

Friday came and went. You and Amber hit up the bar, the same one from Wednesday, but you spent it mostly in a daze, listening to Amber drone on about clients and work drama while you stirred your drink. A part of you couldn't help but wish the stranger would come back and find you again. Something about him kept you in a chokehold, and it was starting to piss you off. It made everything else seem dull by comparison. You counted two men, both decent enough, who approached you, trying to flirt and offer a good time. But, you could still feel his glare burn into your back, still feel his muscles under your nails, still feel his distress. You just couldn't be bothered. They didn't interest you. Nothing interested you. Not with this pit in your stomach.

"Ok, what happened?" Amber demands the following Monday, having had enough of dull hums every conversation. "You've been off since last week. Don’t tell me it’s that guy."

"Just got a lot on my mind." You deadpan. You sit in the breakroom picking at your salad, cold coffee next to you. You look up at her and can tell she’s not convinced. “I’m fine.”

"I think I liked you better when you were fucking everything that moved." She mutters as she disappears out the door.

"Rude!" You call down the hall before your gaze drifts to the TV, sound lowered. It's tuned to a news channel that seems to be covering a story titled "Cure for Mutation in the Works". Your face contorts in confusion. Yes, you had figured there were people out there who might not want their powers. All those trips to doctors as a child haunted you, constantly sent to be someone else’s problem and treated like you were paranoid or troubled, regardless of the fact you were completely right. They never believed you when you tried telling them about your abilities. They certainly never understood you. No one did. And, how could they? You always wished you could see someone just like you. It’s what led you to pursue psych work in the first place because wouldn't someone with a window into the person's mind be the perfect doctor? It became a blessing. But, the way they talked on the segment sounded as if a cure was a necessity to life. What if someone threw away their talents before they knew how special they really were?

Your mind drifts off to those kids at the school. What had they been through? Do they see their powers as curses, too? Could that change? Moreover, what of the mutants from back in 2000? You vaguely remembered hearing your classmates talk about it back in university. Some guy called Magnetism or something. What had he been through? You couldn’t remember exactly what he had done, or tried to do, all of it a distant memory. But, your roommate told you it would’ve killed a lot of people. It made you shudder. What could motivate something like that? Maybe it could’ve been stopped, nipped in the bud as a child.

With a sigh, you stand from the table and head to your office, abandoning your salad in the trash.

Upon entering, you glance down at the paper left on your desk from last week. It occurs to you. Even therapists have therapists, and you weren’t without your own traumas. Maybe this Charles Xavier, or perhaps one of his connections, could help you with that. At the very least, maybe he could understand.

You grab your personal phone from your pocket and dial the number.

"I must extend my humblest apologies, but you'll be arriving during trying times. I neglected to tell you we recently lost a valued member of our staff in an accident. Tensions are still high." Charles explains.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry," you give condolences, hoping it translates over the phone. You could understand him neglecting to tell you the first time, not knowing if you’d accept and all. But, it still sounded so heavy.

"It's quite alright, dear. We're managing as best we can. May I ask, what changed your mind?"

"Well…” You stand to look out the window, arms crossed, “After some thinking, I figured the assistance I could provide might be…important. Growing up wasn’t easy for me. I never had anyone I could talk to. Besides, I see other people’s powers and I have to wonder what their lives would be like if things were a little different. If there's any way I can help, I’d really love to."

"Oh, rest assured. There's plenty to be done here, and plenty more coming, I'm sure. If you’d feel comfortable getting to remain with your age bracket, we do have some graduates staying at the mansion that are open to therapy as well.”

“Anything I can do to help. I’ve never worked with openly mutant adults, but I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure the understanding will be appreciated. It’s long overdue for some. But, I do have one more request for you. But, feel free to tell me if it's too daunting."

"More daunting than working with teenagers?" you joke.

"Yes. Well, the staff here is also part of a defense task force. Think of it as a last resort military extension. Again, it's no obligation. But, I would like to extend the offer to participate. I think you could be a valuable asset."

You chew your bottom lip and tap your shoe against the floor. "What does it involve?"

"You would be practicing teamwork in disaster simulations with members of the force in addition to sparring and combat training with coworkers. Based on your CV, and given your abilities and range of movement, you would be going against our top fighter, Logan."

“Do I get a briefing before I get in the ring?” You half joke.

“Of course. I’m not interested in killing you.” Charles chuckles from the other side of the line. “We only want everyone in top shape should the need arise, and stamina is a priority.” You stare out the window, weighing your options when the voice chimes back in. "Again, it's no obligation. Having you here to look after the children would be far more than I could ask for."

You consider what this could mean. Again, it didn’t sound like there was much to lose. Besides regular trips to the gym, it had been a while since you’ve let off some proper steam. Your last martial arts class feels like ages ago. Maybe a few months, but still. Close combat could be a good refresher. Although, should a real emergency arise...but, you can't think of a single emergency that could come from working in a school, mutant exclusive or not.

"Actually, I think I'd be happy to join. I just hope you know I may not be there until-"

"I can take care of your visa. I know several great lawyers. You're more than welcome to come now and we can have the paperwork done by the end of the month."

"Oh wow. You don’t have to do that.” You smile awkwardly to yourself.

“Please. It’s the least I could do.”

You sigh. “Ok. Well, I guess I'll get organized. I appreciate the offer. Really, I do."

"Of course. I'm sure the children will appreciate you just as much."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Chapter 2 and already an author's note? What is the world coming to? Sorry for putting this up so late. God struck me with diet AO3 curse. I'm fine though.

I'll try not to keep you guys waiting for the next one

#logan #wolverine imagine #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #x men wolverine #wolverine #logan wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine x you #x men origins wolverine #the wolverine #logan xmen #james howlett #james logan howlett #wolverine xmen #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett x reader #Highest Form of Empathy #imagine this

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samaraannhan20 · 11 months ago

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Spencer Reid Imagine: You Have an Audience

A/N: I tried to make this timeline accurate, but after a while I realized it wasn’t and I didn’t want to change it, so just know that this does not necessarily fit the timeline of the show. In my head I was envisioning season 8 Spencer.

“Hey hun?” I call out from the bathroom where I am standing in the bathroom getting ready for bed. Spencer is right out the door in the bedroom, and I hear him close his book and get up to come walk to where I am. When he reaches the doorway he stops.

“Yeah sweetheart?”

“I don’t have work on Friday. I could bring you lunch that day,” I tell him, turning to him as I put moisturizer on.

“You want to risk your dad finding out if you come in?” he asks, with concern written on his face.

“I swear he said something about not being at work the other day,” I say, pausing and grabbing my tooth brush while thinking back on my conversations with my dad the last few days. He kisses the top of my head and then goes back to the bed to lay down and read his book. As I stand there scrubbing my teeth I realize what he had said.

“Mhe faid bhe las la pate hat ay!” I exclaim, rushing into the bedroom with my toothbrush hanging from my mouth. Spencer drops his book and laughs as he looks at me standing there looking like a madman.

“What?” he asks when he stops laughing. I hold my finger up and walk into the bathroom, rinse my mouth out, shut off the light, and go lay down in the bed. I curl up next to Spencer before repeating my sentence.

“He said he has a date with Krystall that day at lunch, so he shouldn’t be in the office when I bring you lunch. But I can call Penny tomorrow to double check,” I say, before closing his book and taking it from him, tossing it onto my night stand. “Let’s go to bed though. I have a full day tomorrow, after having parent-teacher conferences at the beginning of the week.”

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I shove a bite of leftovers in my mouth as I pick up the phone and call Penny

“Hey Pen!” I say as Penny picks up the call.

“Hey little Rossi! What’s up?”

“Do you know if my dad is going to be at the BAU during lunch tomorrow? I was wanting to bring Spence lunch because I don’t have school, but I want to make sure my dad won’t be there.”

“Y/N! You guys still haven’t told him?” she questions.

“No. We decided the other day that we were going to tell him after our six months next week. We never doubted that we would stay together, but we wanted to be able to show it was serious before we told him. Because if we had just gotten together when we told him… well,.”

“He’d lose his cool and make you break up. Right,” she replies with a small chuckle.

“Yeah. So, he told me he would be on a date at lunch tomorrow, but before I commit to bringing Spence lunch I want to make sure he will actually be gone. And not only do you know everything, but I know he has to fill out a thing saying he’s going to be out. Which I still think is weird since it’s just lunch, but I guess it makes sense if there’s a chance he won’t be back before his lunch break is over.”

“Y/N you just rambled so hard. Let me look real quick sweet pea,” she says, and I hear her start typing away. “Yep,” she says after a second. “Looks like he will be gone for lunch tomorrow. You should be good to go.”

“Awesome, thanks Pen! Do you want a dessert or anything when I come in?”

“You know I do. Just bring me something from wherever you wind up getting takeout. I’m not picky about my desserts,” she says with a small laugh.

“Great. Thanks again Penny! I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Okay! I’ll send an email downstairs warning them that you are coming. Bye!” she responds, and I say thanks and bye and then hang up the phone.

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“I overheard your dad asking Penny why you were coming in at lunch tomorrow,” Spencer says to me as we sit at my kitchen table eating dinner later that night.

“Oh crap,” I say around my bite of crab rangoon. “What did she say?” I respond after finishing chewing.

“She said you were bringing her lunch and hanging out for a bit. At which point he told her to keep you there until he got back from lunch with Krystall because he hasn’t seen you in a few weeks,” he says, shooting me a look that says more than his words did.

“I know. It is bad for me to not see him for so long, but I knew that if I saw him in person he would ask me why I seem so happy and I would immediately spill about our entire relationship because I have no backbone,” I tell him, standing up and taking my half full plate over to the counter and grabbing the saran wrap , wrapping my leftovers up.

“You’re done already?” he asks from where I left him at the table, and I don’t say anything, just nodding and then walking over to the couch and sitting down, grabbing my kindle and turning it on. I sit there silently, not even reading, just staring off into space with tears slowly falling down my face.

I hear Spencer stand up and push his chair in a few minutes later, and then I hear him walk over to me. He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of my head. He walks around the couch, setting something down on the side table before lifting my feet up and resting them on his lap as he sits down.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, taking my kindle out of my hands and setting it next to whatever he had placed on the table, and then pulling me even closer to him by my legs.

“I feel so guilty for keeping so many secrets from him. I mean he didn’t even really know my half sister, and yet they’ve formed a relationship like ours is. Or I guess used to be. When I was a kid and my mom decided she didn’t want me around anymore and sent me to live with him we built such a great relationship. And throughout high school it stayed great. And then I moved out for college and we spent less time together, and he got back together with Krystall, and I had moments where I felt her daughter and Joy were replacing me.

“Which I told him about and we fixed it and things were great again. I graduated, got a teaching job nearby, and we were great. I would spend so many nights having dinner with him, or with him and Krystall. I would go with him to visit Joy. He knew everything there was to know about me, I told him everything,” I say, wiping a tear off my face as I finish my speech.

“And then you got together with me,” Spencer says quietly. I nod, allowing another tear to fall down my face, wiping it off and then I reach out and grab Spencer’s hand.

“I don’t want you to think I regret you. Because that is the last thing I am thinking or feeling. However, I am having extended amounts of anxiety about him finding out before we tell him. I don’t think that he won’t approve, because he knows how amazing you are, you’ve been friends for so long. He sees you as a son already, and not just because you’re with his kid and probably going to be family one day,” I say, the last sentence slipping out of my mouth so easily. I knew the comment wouldn’t bother Spencer, because even though we have only been together for a little less than six months we have had the conversation already, and we both feel that we are it for each other. “But the reality we have to think about is the fact that we do have a sizable age difference, which he is not going to just let go. And he’s not going to be happy we kept it a secret for three months. And he probably won’t be happy about…” and before I can finish the last sentence Spencer cuts me off.

“Okay listen. First of all, in the long run, I’m only eight years older than you. Which isn’t bad. It just seems longer because I graduated from everything so early. And because when we met I was working with your dad and you were still in college. Yes, I’m 32 to your 24, but you have more dating experience than I do, because you went to college in your late teens and early twenties, not when you were 12. And as for the keeping it a secret for three months, I think over time he will understand why we did that. I mean he kept getting back together with Krystall from you for a good amount of time. How long was it again?”

“Like almost a year,” I say with a small laugh.

“Exactly my point. He’ll get over it,” he says, and takes my hand, pressing a small kiss to the top of it. “Now, if you’re done freaking out, I brought your food over for you. I know you weren’t actually done, that you were just anxious,” he says, reaching over to the side table, grabbing the plate and handing it to me. As I take the plate from him I lean forward pressing a kiss to his lips.

“I love you. And I appreciate you so much. I wouldn’t want anyone else to know me so well,” I tell him, before pulling away and immediately popping a bite of food into my mouth.

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“Y/N, I didn’t realize you were coming in for lunch today,” Aaron says as I carry the to-go bag full of food over to the kitchenette in the BAU.

“Yeah, I had the day off,” I say with a small smile as I put things down.

“Well, I’m assuming it’s for Penny, since your dad is out for lunch with Krystall today,” he says with a knowing smile on his face.

“Oh man. You know everything don’t you,” I say with a groan, sitting down at the table in the small kitchen area.

“Yeah. Turns out I am pretty good at my job,” he responds with a smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell your dad anything until you and Spencer decide to. Also, I know my opinion isn’t really the one that matters, but I think you and Spencer are a good match,” he says, patting my shoulder before walking away. I put my face in my hands and groan, before getting up and walking over to Spencer’s desk. I sit down in his chair and spin around in it, glancing around the rest of the room. Before too long I hear voices begin to drift into the room.

“Wow it smells good in here,” I hear Derek say as he walks in the room. He spots me before Spencer does, and I watch as a mischievous smile comes over his face. “Hey baby, come to bring me lunch?” he says, walking over to me and picking me up from Spencer’s chair, spinning me around before setting me on the floor and placing a loud kiss on my cheek.

“In your dreams Morgan,” I say with a laugh, walking around him to Spencer. I fling myself at him as soon as I get close enough. “Hey babe,” I say, stretching my face up to his for a quick kiss. He mumbles a hello, and I unwrap myself from him and take his hand, dragging him over to the table. “I got Italian. I was craving some chicken alfredo,” I tell him as I sit down next to him and start pulling the food out of the bag. He chuckles and helps me unload the bag, before sitting down next to me.

We sit and eat our food together, making small talk, and talking to his coworkers everytime they come up to the table we’re sitting at.

“Hey teacher lady,” Penny says to me as she sits down next to me with her lunch in her hands.

“Hey Pen,” I say, leaning over and giving her a hug. “So you told my dad I was bringing you lunch?” I ask with a small smile.

“It seemed like the best answer. Unless you wanted me to out your relationship,” she says with a shrug and a sly smile.

“Thanks Pen. Always thinking on the fly.” She shrugs again and digs into her lunch. I hand her the dessert I got her and she thanks me with a small smile. “Did he tell you when he would be back?” I ask her after a minute or two of the three of us eating in silence.

“No. Sometimes it's a longer lunch and sometimes it’s shorter. Depends on when Krystall has plans next.” I nod in understanding, and then turn my attention to Spencer.

“Do we have plans for dinner tonight?”

“Not any specific ones. It’s Friday though so I thought I could order some type of take-out for us and we could watch a movie,” he says and I nod.

“Ooh can we rent that new rom-com? I know they aren’t your favorite but I’m in the mood for one. We can watch that and then a foreign film for you,” I say, hoping the foreign film will get him to say yes.

“We don’t also have to watch a foreign film,” he says with a small laugh and shake of his head. “We can watch that new movie. I don’t have a problem with it,” he says, leaning over and kissing the top of my head. I look up at him and smile, before pulling him closer and placing a kiss on his lips.

“Aww, you guys sicken me,” Penny says in a baby voice, and I laugh, flipping her the bird and then kissing Spencer again. “Um, Y/N,” she says when I pull away from Spencer again, and I turn and look at her, not even registering the nervousness on her face.

“What Penny?” I ask with a small smile on my face, my smile growing bigger when Spencer pulls my chair closer to his and wraps his arm around me. “You have an audience,” she says in a whisper, pointing behind us. I sit up straight and glance at Spencer, grabbing his hand in mine, before hearing the tell-tale clearing of my father’s throat.

“I am not turning around,” I whisper, my hands starting to shake as I realize who exactly is standing in the doorway of the BAU. “He can’t do anything if I don’t even turn and look at him,” I say even quieter than before. Spencer squeezes my hand, looking down at his food, and Penny’s eyes keep darting from him to me and then back again, with a dart of her eyes to my dad every few seconds. We sit there in awkward silence, me refusing to move, for what feels like a century.

“There’s no case today, and my paperwork is all done. We could do this stand off all day long,” I hear from my father after probably a minute has passed. “Or, you could stand up and walk with me to my office.” I flinch, looking over at Spencer, and then at Penny. Penny scrambles to gather her food, and walks with her head down past my father, mumbling a small good luck to me as she leaves. Spencer squeezes my hand, and I nod my head in defeat, standing up. Spencer stands up with me, pulling me into a hug.

“Nothing he says matters,” he whispers to me as we hug. “I love you and you love me and that is what matters. Nothing else,” he says, and then places a kiss on the top of my head and lets me go. I nod again, and then turn my body and stiffly begin to walk to my father’s office. I hear him begin to follow me, but not before I hear what he says to Spencer.

“You’re next. My office in twenty minutes,” he says, and I can’t even bring myself to look over my shoulder at Spencer, instead choosing to continue walking to my father’s office.

As I enter my father’s office I immediately sink into the couch he has sitting on one wall, covering my face with my hands. It isn’t long before he walks in, and I hear him turn one of the chairs sitting at his desk to look at me. He sits down silently, not saying a word for at least two minutes. After what feels like a century of sitting in silence, he finally speaks up.

“I’m not mad. I know you think I am, but I’m not,” he says, and I let my hands drop from my face, looking at him.

“What?” I ask, shock evident in my voice.

“I mean I was mad a month ago when I figured it out, but I’m not mad anymore,” he says, a small smile coming across his face.

“A month?” I whisper, confusion written across my face as I try to figure out how he knew a month ago.

“You aren’t as sneaky as you think. A little over a month ago I drove over to your apartment because it had been awhile since we spent any time together, so I wanted to see if you wanted to get dinner together. When I pulled up to your building, I saw Spencer’s car outside. At first I thought it was a coincidence, that maybe he was seeing someone else in your building, so I parked and headed in. Your doorman let me in because he knew I was your dad,” he said, and I immediately remembered which night he was talking about, because Mark had told me he had sent my dad up, but because I never heard him knock I chalked it up to Mark getting mixed up over which tenant’s dad went up.

“So I went up to your apartment. When I got there, I knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear me. I stood in the hallway and waited, but I could hear you talking to someone. Being the profiler that I am, I leaned on your door and listened to the voices, trying to make sure you weren’t in trouble, because you hadn’t told me you were dating any one person, or even that you were going on dates. And then I heard him,” he says, and I immediately remember what he had heard.

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Flashback:

“What are you going to tell your dad when you’re out of town next weekend?” Spencer asked me as I stood in the kitchen chopping vegetables. I pause my cutting, thinking I heard a knock at the door, but then determine it was just my knife hitting the cutting board and start up again.

“That I’m going on a trip with a few of my fellow teachers at work. But I also will only have to tell him if you guys don’t get called on a case. If you do it won’t matter because I won’t be going anywhere,” I tell him with a shrug.

“I mean you could still go,” Spencer says, and I stop what I’m doing to turn and look at him.

“For one, I’m not going on a couples trip to a spa without you. And for two, you’re a profiler. You should know how dangerous it is for women to travel on their own,” I tell him, crossing over to him.

“I know, but I still think you deserve a weekend away. I know the stress of not telling your dad has been weighing on you. You need a weekend at a spa.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t be fun without the man I love,” I say, and stretch up to place a kiss on his lips.

“I love you,” he says in response, and then pulls me in again. When we pull away again he smirks at me. “How hungry are you?” he asks, and I laugh and take his hand, dragging him into my bedroom. Neither of us noticed the shadow of feet under the door as we walked by it.

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“You heard us talking about the spa trip,” I whisper looking at the ceiling as I calculate just how much he may have heard.

“Yeah. I finally decided it was time to stop eavesdropping when I heard you walk towards your room. I went down to the lobby, waved bye to your doorman, and left. I was pretty angry so I didn’t text you or call you to let you know I had been by. I went home, and told Krystall everything that I had heard. I wanted to get right back in my car and go over to your apartment and yell at you, but she talked me out of it. She reminded me that you would tell me when you were ready. I expected it to be within the next week, but then you still didn’t, and before I knew it it was past the time where it would be acceptable for me to bring up the fact that I knew. So I decided to wait until you were ready to let me know,” he says, and the way he sits back after he finishes shows me that he’s done.

“We were going to tell you next week. Next week is our six month anniversary, and we were waiting to tell you until after that,” I say, looking at him to see his reaction to knowing just how long we had been hiding this from him. He doesn’t show much of one, so I continue. “I wanted to be able to prove that we were serious about each other before I told you. I knew you would wind up thinking it was just a fling and it would change your work relationship with him if you knew before it had been a while.”

“Honey, from the moment I realized something had changed about you, I knew whatever it was was either a forever kind of thing or something that was going to put you in the hospital if it ended. I never would have thought it was just a fling between the two of you,” he says, standing up and coming to sit next to me on the couch. I scoot over and wrap my arms around him.

“I just didn’t want you to be disappointed,” I tell him, tears welling up in my eyes as he wraps his arms around me.

“I never would be,” he whispers, placing a kiss on my forehead. We sit together in silence for a few minutes, before a knock comes from the door, and the door pushes open less than ten seconds later.

“Sir, I love your daughter,” Spencer says as he steps foot in the room and closes the door behind him, not looking at the two of us as he does so. I laugh a watery laugh, and my dad kisses me on the forehead once more before pulling back and standing up.

“I know you do,” he says as he walks over to where Spencer is standing. Spencer looks at him confused, and then looks at me and sees the tears falling down my face. He moves to walk over to me, but I hold my hand up and motion towards my dad.

“Rossi, I don’t know what she has told you so far, but I want you to know that I love her more than anything, and I plan to one day marry her,” Spencer says, looking at my dad. My dad chuckles at Spencer and holds out his hand.

“Welcome to the family then Reid.”

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n

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