#thank you for the kind words and the corrections most especially!

[ficsloverblog]

hiiii just wanted to say i’m obsessed with ur writing, especially ur weems fics. i’m so excited that ur writing for more characters and i was wondering if i could maybe request a lisa cuddy fic? something w like a teacher’s pet kinda vibe (fluff or smut, totally up to u). i swear it’s sooo hard to find good cuddy content no pressure at all tho, just thought i’d ask in case it sparks something fun in that brilliant brain of urs ❤️❤️❤️

Cuddy’s Favourite

Lisa Cuddy x fem!intern!reader

A/N: Thank you for your kind words AND your request. Massive crush on Lisa Cuddy (and half of the other House MD characters…). Hope you’ll enjoy!

You learned quickly that hospitals have their own ecosystems. There’s medicine, and then there’s everything else: hierarchy, politics, gossip. You keep your head down, do the work, try not to give anyone a reason to talk. But it doesn’t matter, they talk anyway. Especially about you.

You hear it in passing, soft laughter behind turned backs, clipped conversations that trail off the moment you enter the room.

Teacher’s pet, they say. Cuddy’s intern. Favourite little shadow.

You don’t flinch anymore. You’ve heard worse. Besides, it’s not like they’re wrong.

She doesn’t exactly hide it.

Lisa Cuddy is demanding. Unforgiving. A perfectionist with a wardrobe better suited for a runway than a hospital, and a gaze sharp enough to cut through steel. No one intimidates you the way she does. No one draws you in, either.

You’re not supposed to play favourites in medicine.

But Cuddy does. And you're hers.

It’s unspoken, never acknowledged aloud, never scrawled into the margins of evaluations. But you’re not stupid. You know what it looks like when she singles you out during rounds, calls you into her office to discuss consults other interns weren’t even allowed to touch, leans in a little too close when she hands back your charts.

You also know you’d chase her approval even if she never looked at you twice.

The truth is, you like being watched. Not by everyone. Just her.

You like it when she finds you in the middle of a shift and corrects your posture with nothing but a look. When she pauses after you answer a question, just long enough to make you wonder if you impressed her, or disappointed her. You like the quiet weight of her expectations on your shoulders.

She never praises you in front of others. But in her office, when the door is closed and the lights are low, sometimes she lets a little warmth into her voice. Sometimes she says your name like she’s thinking about something she shouldn’t.

You never let yourself imagine what.

House is the worst about it.

He never calls you by name. Just golden girl, Cuddy’s favourite, or his personal favourite: obedient intern number one.

You’ve tried ignoring him. Tried answering him in monosyllables. Nothing works. He pokes at you like a bruise he knows won’t heal.

“She’s got you house-trained already,” he tells you once in the elevator. “Cute.”

You grip the file in your hand tighter.

“She’s your boss too,” you reply, too tired to play his game today.

“Oh, sure. But you—” He eyes you with mock awe. “You practically purr when she says good job.”

You say nothing.

“Hey, I’m not judging,” he adds, shrugging.“Everyone wants Mommy’s approval. You just work harder for it.”

He steps off at diagnostics, but not before tossing a grin over his shoulder. “Be careful, though. Pets get put down when they start biting.”

You don’t respond. But the words sit with you longer than you’d like.

The pager buzzes at 6:43 p.m.

Come by my office. – Cuddy

You stare at the message a second longer than necessary, then tuck the device into your coat pocket and head toward administration. It’s later than usual. Most of the hospital is already winding down but her light is still on when you get there. Her office door is slightly ajar, like she knew you’d come quickly.

You knock lightly.

“Come in.”

Her voice always sounds different in the evening. Less clipped. Warmer. Or maybe that’s just projection. You’ve been told more than once that you see what you want to see.

She’s seated behind her desk, blazer slung over the back of her chair, sleeves rolled to the elbows. The top two buttons of her blouse are undone. Her posture is as precise as ever, but there’s something relaxed about her, an end-of-the-day looseness that makes her look a little less untouchable.

She glances up at you with a faint smile. “You’re still here.”

“You paged me.”

“Didn’t think you’d still be around this late.”

You shrug. “I don’t mind the hours.”

“You shouldn’t say that out loud. I’ll start assigning you more.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

She lets out a quiet laugh, low and throaty. “Fair enough.”

She gestures to the chair in front of her desk. “Sit.”

You do. She slides a file across the desk toward you. Your intake notes from the morning.

“I wanted to talk about this,” she says. “The patient with the arrhythmia.”

You nod. “Did I miss something?”

“No. You were thorough. Very thorough.” She pauses. “Almost suspiciously so.”

You blink. “Suspiciously?”

“Your note-taking is bordering on romantic obsession.”

You open your mouth, then close it again.

She tilts her head. “Don’t look so alarmed. I’m complimenting you. In my own way.”

“I guess I just… I try to be careful.”

“You try to be perfect,” she corrects. “You think if you do everything flawlessly, I won’t find anything to criticize.”

You shift slightly in your seat, cheeks heating. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No. But it’s not sustainable.”

You nod slowly, fingers tightening around the armrest.

She watches you, eyes narrowing slightly, like she’s testing a theory.

“You don’t like being wrong,” she says.

“Does anyone?”

“You take it personally. Like I’m disappointed in you.”

You say nothing.

“I’m not,” she adds, softer now. “But I think you’re scared of that.”

You finally meet her eyes. “Maybe.”

A pause. Her gaze lingers. “You know people talk about you.”

You nod. “I know.”

She folds her hands on the desk. “Does it bother you?”

“Sometimes.”

“They say you’re my favourite.”

“I’m aware.”

“Are you?”

You hesitate. “Am I what?”

“My favourite.”

The air between you changes. Tightens.

You’re not sure how to answer. You want to say yes. You want to ask her why it matters. You want to ask her what she’d do if you said something you weren’t supposed to.

But all you say is: “That depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether it’s a compliment or a warning.”

That makes her smile—an actual smile, not the tight-lipped one she uses in meetings. Something slower. Fonder. Dangerous.

“Maybe both,” she murmurs.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until she rises from her chair. She walks around the desk and perches on the edge of it, closer to you now. She folds her arms across her chest, watching you like she’s trying to decide what you’ll do next.

“I know you want to impress me,” she says. “That’s not a bad thing. But don’t confuse ambition with submission.”

Your mouth goes dry.

“I’m not trying to submit,” you say, barely louder than a whisper.

“No?” Her voice dips. “Could’ve fooled me.”

There’s a pause, long and heavy, the kind of silence that crackles with possibility.

Then, mercifully, she shifts the tone again.

“You’re a good intern,” she says, a bit more professionally now. “Focused. Detail-oriented. A little obsessive, maybe, but I can work with that.”

You let out a breath. “Thank you.”

She leans back slightly, one leg crossed over the other. “Tell me something.”

You glance up.

“Do you actually like the work,” she asks, “or do you just like when I notice you doing it well?”

You freeze.

“That’s—” You stop. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

“Honestly.”

You take a breath. “I think… I like both.”

She studies you again, eyes tracing your face.

“That’s honest,” she says quietly. “And dangerous.”

Your pulse stutters.

“I’m not trying to cross any lines,” you say.

“I know,” she replies. “Neither am I.”

But neither of you moves.

For a moment, it feels like the whole world narrows down to the space between your chair and her knees. A few feet. A lifetime. Her gaze is steady, unflinching. You get the sense she could look right through you if she wanted.

She doesn’t. She sees you, and that’s almost worse.

“Get some sleep,” she says, standing again. “You’ve earned it.”

You nod, rising carefully.

At the door, you glance back.

“If I ever did want to be your favourite,” you say, soft and sure, “would that be a bad thing?”

She lifts a brow. “You already are.”

And then, before you can reply, she’s turning back toward her desk.

You step out into the corridor, heart thundering in your ears.

They can whisper all they want. You don’t care.

Because you are, without a doubt, Cuddy’s favourite.

[wodniars-void]

Twitchy I saw these tags and want to enable you. Please say more? (If you have the spoons.)

Thank you for enabling me Cori!! I have brought you a very large ramble :3 This was so fun to expand on!!

I was mostly inspired by the ideas of Social Darwinism in the early 20th century. Extremely basically, the elite thought they were rich because they inherently deserved to be, and the lower classes and poor had something inherently wrong with them that made them poor. They were strong and thus became stronger, the weak only got weaker. To be extremely honest, total horseshit. But interesting to draw from for fictional societies!

In Scala ad Caelum, Keyblade Wielders are the dominant class. In fact the inferiority of Non-Wielders literally defines them in the sense they are Not Wielders. They are the non-default, the Other, the Lesser, the amalgamate masses. To be a keyblade wielder is the default, valued state, and to not be one makes you worth less. It's evident in the language we use to discuss these societies, even out of game- we define them by what they are not. If you're not a wielder, you're lumped together into one massive undefined group.

In contrast, within the Keyblade wielders are different rankings of superiority. In Dark Road this is possibly signified by the different colors of emblems that each student wears*. KHML appears to have its own emblem code, but it's difficult to tell as we have so little footage. Purely based off Dark Road and hoping it applies retroactively, there appears to be three classes within wielders. Bluebloods like Eraqus with gold emblems, Vala with the only silver emblem, and those with white emblems. Xehanort has one that is dark grey, but given his unique situation, we can assume a dark grey emblem is an outlier when signifying class. For our purposes we'll be excluding him and focusing on the other three groups.

Bluebloods are the highest class within the wielders, and have long bloodlines of keyblade wielders. Think "blood purity" or castes. It's commonplace for families of wielders to marry each other in pursuit of maintaining keyblade wielding abilities in families of "good standing", societal power, etc. They're like the nobility of the city, and as a result hold the most political control. The most politically powerful group of Bluebloods are Ephemer's descendants, since he founded the city. In a room full of Bluebloods, everyone listens to them.

Then there are wielders from mixed families, people with only one wielder parent or a "diluted" bloodline. Obviously they can be and are just as competent wielders as Bluebloods but they're by default an inferior social class. This is the majority of keyblade wielders**- by Scala times keyblades aren't exactly rare, and a lot of people don't have the hangups that the Bluebloods do about social standing. Really, as long as you can claim the heritage of at least one Wielder and are a Wielder yourself, regardless of other economic or social status, you're in this group.

Lastly and lowest are wielders of no social standing. They're often people who's keyblades just appeared to them one day, with no notable lineage of previous wielders. Sometimes the keyblade just chooses someone new! They're socially higher than non-wielders, but with no bloodline to stand on, they have to work to be recognized as highly as their peers.

Now to get the discriminatory part.

The upper class of Bluebloods generally holds the belief that Keyblade Wielders are such because they deserve to be in some way. Their hearts have a lot of very strong light, they come from families of very high standing, they hate darkness more than anyone else, etc. They're superior because they inherently deserve to be. The light deigns them superior by their very nature as Wielders. This bleeds into the inverse- Non-wielders aren't wielders because they have some inherent flaw. There's something inherently lesser about non-wielders that makes them undeserving of keyblades. They're weak or susceptible to darkness. The keyblade scorns them, which is makes them Lesser. Being Lesser makes the keyblade avoid them. It's a cycle, at least in the eyes of high society. (Needless to say, all of this rather untrue. A keyblade is either passed down via bequeathing or chooses a wielder. Literally anybody could get one.)

Only the most intense corners of the Bluebloods get particularly persnickety about this, at least publicly, but the effects of this attitude resonate through Scalan society. The societies are sort of a product of this strict class system. Keyblade wielders tend to mingle with others of like standing. For example, the Baroque society appears to be a particularly lower class society, largely comprised of wielders from mixed familes or no previous lineage. This is a bit of headcanon, but I would assume that Nept is the "highest class" among them, given he was able to become an Operations Master and is a member of the "Society Legal Investigations Committee". (yes, I watched the beta cutscenes to quote that directly, lol) Regardless, Nept being both in a position of leadership and in some sort of organized committee indicates he's probably of higher status than the rest of the Baroque society. Freya is possibly next highest, and Remus the lowest- he's kind of the one who gets bossed around and all. In my heart Freya is an Ephemer descendant though <3

Similarly, Player is almost definitely on the lowest rung of the social ladder. They'd fall into the category of wielders who's blades just Appeared to them, disregarding the whole reincarnation/fell from the sky thing. As far as anyone's concerned right now, they're some random kid who got their hands on a rusty old keyblade, and that's it.

This brings me to Brain. Brain is a notable exception to the extremely strict class dynamics, because he isn't engrained in them the way Scalans are. He's almost elevated above the class system because of his status as a Union Leader. He is at the true top, the most idealized place in society. Even the Bluebloods and Ephemer's descendants have to respect that. Not that most of them are very happy about that, but hey, societal conventions bind us all. Really the only person who rivals him in terms of political and societal importance is whoever leads the city- like say, Frigga in Fallen Stars.

I originally went down this train of thought as some Brain's Twitter Takeover worldbuilding, and I really quite like it, so I'm holding myself back a little to try and sift out what's general KHML ideas and what's potentially BTT :3 I cut a couple paragraphs of accidental spoiler overflow lol. I'm really excited to see what KHML does with these ideas of bloodlines!!! I'm sure it'll be a great story!!

*Side tanget: I tried to figure out if the emblem colors would correlate with my groupings, and that is a whole ride. It essentially comes down to which class the white and silver emblems represent. The gold emblems almost defiently indicate Blueblood or other high class status, as Eraqus wears one, but the other two are much more up in the air. For convenience I've included the list I compiled glancing at all the Dark Road sprites. It's my personal thoughts that the order is Gold -> White -> Silver -> Dark Grey, but hey, you do you. Gold: Eraqus, Baldr, Hoder, Urd, Vor, Heimdall, Helgi, Vali, Odin White: Hermod, Bragi, Sigrun, Vidar Silver: Vala Dark Grey: Xehanort

**second tanget: I know I said the middle class of wielders is the largest and then showed DR was mostly upper class so I had to make some clarifying comments. I believe that the Dark Road class is top-heavy because 1) Xehanort and Eraqus' class wasn't the only one at the academy (To quote the khwiki's DR summary, "Odin summons the No Name Keyblade from its display overhead, and leaves the room to evacuate other students.") 2) the process of different groups of people having more kids at different times 3) the many socio-economic aspects of going to Keyblade School and 4) not everyone WANTS to be a wielder and thus might not go to school for it if they don't have to. For all intents and purposes assume that the events of Dark Road happen at like, a fancy private school. The sample sizes there are Different.

This is all speculation and I may even have a bit of a conspiracy board going here but I had fun and that's what matters! KHDR they could never make me hate you <3

[jimingyue]

Cat Tumblr Dashboard Simulator

🖋️ meowful-musings Follow

🕊️ birdwatching Follow

what's wrong with dry food??? my humans feed me it all the time and i think it's fine

💀 elusivehider-deactivated948204

op wheres the natural feeding option

🌲 outdoorsy Follow

you guys are getting fed?

#im a barn cat so maybe im missing something here #meowtthew don't look

7,192 notes

☀️ pawsitive-affurmations Follow

ITS OKAY TO BE A MOGGIE

ITS OKAY TO BE A MOGGIE

YOU ARE NOT LESS VALID IF YOU ARE NOT A SPECIFIC PEDIGREE!!!!!

☀️ pawsitive-affurmations Follow

extra special shout out to cats who have "common" coat colors. grey tabbies and black cats i am rubbing against your head affectionately <3

🪤 m0usetrap01 Follow

as a grey tabby i really needed to hear this :"3

#i feel like i never see positivity posts for moggies even tho we're the most common type of cat....

154,688 notes

🎵 rage-against-the-meowchine Follow

i cant believe there are cats ACTUALLY advocating for kittens to be separated from their mothers before 12 weeks??? kittens still need to learn how to interact with other cats before being placed into their furever home omg you guys know you're advocating for undersocialized and aggressive cats right

❤️ loving-paws284 Follow

um op some of us??? matured early??????? i was separated from my mother at 7 weeks and i turned out fine... interesting how you assume that kittens being separated from their mothers at a younger age will lead to the degeneracy of the next generation...hmm i wonder where i've heard that before...

🐈 fluffy-the-cat Follow

OP got bit too hard during a play-fight as a kitten and it shows XD

🐟 tunafeesh Follow

also op have you ever considered that just because somecat is kind of scared and unable to deal with strange cats or humans, it doesn't mean they don't deserve to be adopted?? you sound like a vet psyop honestly

🎵 rage-against-the-meowchine Follow

oh meow god saying that kittens should be fully weaned before leaving their mother is NOT veterinarian rhetoric and i never said that they deserve to be euthanized!!! my mother literally died when i was 3 weeks old and it seriously messed up my development so stop putting words in my mouth, thanks

anyway friendly reminder that underweaned kittens are prone to illness and often struggle with basic cat behaviors like litterbox usage, and in some nyavinces it's even considered kitten abuse

#discourse #cant believe "kitten abuse is bad" is controversial now

32,456 notes

🍃 naturalliving Follow

BORN TO DIE

WORLD IS A FUCK

猫神 Kill Em All 1989

I am trash cat

410,757,864,530 DEAD BIRDS

#outdoorliving #outdoorcats please interact #outdoorcat friendly

48,971 notes

🎣 salmonpurina Follow

can't believe cats are uncritically reblogging that born to die world is a fuck post. i know it's funny but op is literally an outdoor cat truther

#like cmon now you just have to go to their blog #lulu speaks

34 notes

💀 tabbystripes-deactivated098712

gentle reminder that pushing cups off the table is not cute and can cause a lot of distress in your human!!!! gentle reminder that our teeth and claws can easily hurt them more than they can hurt us!!!!

🐰 evil-tabbystripes Follow

evil reminder that the cup should always be pushed off the table. evil reminder that you should always bite and claw at your human no matter what. you can do whatever you want forever

💀 tabbystripes-deactivated098712

make your own pawst

💀 laser-point-deactivated8574721

umm i know a tomcat who did that and his human ended up putting him down so...

👬🏻 nyasunaruenjoyer Follow

Nyaverage shelter cat behavior

#not nyaruto #re-nyab #pickles shut up

545,460 notes

🌈 nyaoi-warrior Follow

saw two male cats sleeping together on the porch today. homeow behavior imo

💡 discourse-meows Follow

hey um what the fuck??? it's really not okay of you to go assuming other cat's sexualities, especially cats you don't even know???? as a queer cat i'm VERYY uncomfortable. real-ass cats didn't consent to your nyaoi fetish, thanks

🌈 nyaoi-warrior Follow

1. i was making. a joak

2. i'm literally gay???

#literally what's your pawblem

7 notes

🎩 amazingcatshow12 Follow

reblog if you've ever caught the laser pointer

🎩 amazingcatshow12 Follow

i know you fuckers are lying

🍭 gaykittens Follow

this tom hasn't caught the laser pointer

🎩 amazingcatshow12 Follow

shut the heull up

988,653 notes

🐾 b-e-a-n-t-o-e-s Follow

grey toebeans >>>>>>>>> pink toebeans and don't let the haters make you believe otherwise

🐁 ladymouser Follow

op shut the fuck up ALL toebeans are beautiful!!! just bc you're miserable and insecure doesn't mean you can bring others down based on things they can't control

🐾 b-e-a-n-t-o-e-s Follow

oh so the cat-human separationist wants to preach to us

[drchucktingle]

As an autistic person, did you struggle to make and keep friends? And have you found friends through the writing world? I ask because my mom always said i needed to find my people. I did finally find them (they are neurodiverse trans nerds, haha), but not until i was like 30. And i wonder if its true of other autistic people too. So i guess my question is: did you find your people, and when?

thank you this is good question. i have always had a LOT of CLOSE BUDS even from a very young age. i would actually say that i am unusually socially adept in my way and that it is partially BECAUSE of my autistic trot. LETS TALK ON THAT FOR A MOMENT

'BUT CHUCK YOU SAID YOU ARE ON THE SPECTRUM AND AUTISTIC BUCKAROOS CANNOT BE SOCIALLY ADEPT' some say. and sure it is UNUSUAL overall, technically speaking, but there is also an important reason we talk about this as a spectrum of buckaroos and not a monolith

when buckaroos ask me what it is like to be autistic i try to explain like this: there are certain cues and markers from the outside that serve as a sort of identification checklist but because of masking they are not always correct. instead i see it as question of WHAT IS IT LIKE INSIDE YOUR BRAIN?

internally my brain is different. its taking in way more information all the time, including the stuff that neurotypical buds block out, and that can become overwhelming. it is hard to navigate because i do not have that automatic neurotypical 'here is what is important here is what is not' function

so yes i can be easily distracted and zone out as i watch the patterns and fractals spin off. and yes i can miss certain things in social situations. in many autistic buckaroos this makes large groups overwhelming and the OUTPUT of behavior matches what we typically know as signs of autism

FOR ME however, same thing is going on inside, but i have managed to HARNESS that information. even from very young age i see that everyone is DOING THE HUMAN ACT but instead of rejecting that and shutting off i think 'well okay i am just going to do THIS because thats what they actually want'

in other words, most neurotypical buds say one thing that has a kind of spiraling social-cue-related OTHER MEETING (they do this ALL the time) and instead of rejecting that i have trained myself to be REALLY REALLY good at knowing the hidden meaning. it is EMPATHY but on a sort of LOGIC BASED level

and because i have always been pretty good at that, people like to trot around me and say 'wow this is a good friend they understand me'. now for ME that can be a little exhausting and there are things i need to do and stims and all that to release the effort, but overall it is worth it to me

OTHER THING is that i was a successful CREATOR AND ARTIST BUCKAROO from an early age which is socially seen as 'cool' especially when you are trotting around in your youth. it is not particularly FAIR but it is true that some level of fame makes buds treat you well even if you are 'weird'.

of course it can be a sort of FAKE 'treating you well' but as an autistic buckaroo it is still more of a chance than you might otherwise get. this timeline has sort of carved out a very special little sliver of social grace for the token odd artistic weirdo to have a seat at each cool kids table

ANYWAY that is the trot of my life. it is a unique trot that i dont get to talk on much but since you asked THERE YOU GO. every chance i get to say 'I LOVE BEING AUTISTIC' and talk on HOW MUCH IT HAS IMPROVED MY LIFE i try to take a moment and do that. when i was young i had few autistic heroes

and OF COURSE it can be difficult and overwhelming and we need to have space for those stories and voices, but i want young buckaroos who get this diagnosis to know there are ALL KINDS of stories and trots on the autism spectrum. MINE IS PRETTY DANG COOL and maybe yours will be too. LOVE IS REAL

[kiwriteswords]

Hello could I please request a fic where maybe the team doesnt like reader at first?

Winning Over the Kids [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 4.5k|| AN: Thank you for the request; I love seeing all of them come in <3 Feedback is also always welcomed! xx

Tags/Warnings: implied age-gap, reader is a forensic psychologist, no use of y/n, secret relationship, team dislikes reader at first, protective Hotch, no mention of Jack--so up to you if he exists or not lol, mirroring the Lo-Fi vibes with Kate Joyner/Hotch/Team, canon-typical themes, some fluff, team dynamics, established relationship

Sypnosis: When Erin Strauss contracts a forensic psychologist to work with the BAU Team, Aaron Hotchner isn't sure if he is more frustrated with the fact that they dislike you as their newest team member or as his secret girlfriend.

Aaron Hotchner had spent years mastering the art of control. His team relied on him to remain composed under pressure, a steady anchor in chaos. But when Erin Strauss informed him that she was contracting a forensic psychologist to assist the BAU, he felt his resolve stretch thin. Not because he doubted the decision—he knew you were exceptional—but because the team didn’t know the full story.

You were brilliant, sharp, and confident. You had risen through the ranks faster than most, your reputation built on precision and expertise. Yet, whispers of you being a “workaholic” and “cutthroat” followed you, a product of stereotypes surrounding young, successful women in high-stakes fields. Aaron had seen it before, but it infuriated him nonetheless, especially now that you were his… well, not officially, but close enough to feel the sting of those judgments on your behalf.

At the morning briefing, he broke the news. “The Bureau has decided to bring in a forensic psychologist to collaborate with us on our cases. She’ll be joining us starting tomorrow.”

Predictably, the room bristled.

“A shrink? Really?” Derek Morgan leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised. “No offense, Hotch, but we kind of know how to read people.”

Emily Prentiss folded her arms. “Isn’t that the point of profiling? What does Strauss think we’ve been doing all this time?”

JJ added carefully, “Is this about our mental health? Are we supposed to… talk to her?”

Spencer Reid, ever the analyst, frowned. “I’ve read that forensic psychologists in consulting roles often critique operational dynamics. Could this be Strauss trying to monitor us?”

Aaron kept his face neutral, though he wanted to correct them all. You were nothing like what they imagined. “This isn’t about our capabilities. The psychologist has specific expertise in complex cases involving psychological manipulation. Her role is to supplement our efforts, not replace them.”

“Yeah, until she starts picking apart everything we do,” Derek muttered.

Aaron resisted the urge to snap. They didn’t know you yet. They didn’t see the meticulous care you put into every decision, or the softer moments when you let your guard down with him.

The next day, you arrived at Quantico with a polished confidence that turned heads. Ready to take on the next case, which was local to the BAU. 

You greeted the team with a professional demeanor, offering a firm handshake and an easy smile. But the tension was palpable. The team’s skepticism hung in the air like a storm cloud, and Aaron felt his jaw tighten as he observed their guarded reactions.

Derek kept his distance, observing you with a critical eye. Emily was polite but cool, and even JJ seemed uncertain about how to approach you. Spencer avoided eye contact altogether. Rossi…well, Rossi seemed to sit back and take it all in. 

“Let’s get to work,” Aaron said, more curtly than he intended, leading the group into the roundtable room.

You took a seat beside him, your notebook open and pen poised. “I’ve reviewed the case files,” you began, your voice steady and self-assured. “The unsub’s behavior suggests a deep-seated fear of abandonment, likely rooted in childhood trauma. But the escalation pattern indicates recent stressors. Have you explored potential triggers within the last six months?”

Reid blinked, clearly taken aback. “We—uh, we considered family dynamics, but we didn’t narrow the timeline that specifically.”

Your sharp gaze turned to him, not unkindly. “It’s worth revisiting. The timeline could give us a better idea of who influenced him most recently.”

Aaron noticed the way Reid shifted uncomfortably, and it grated on him. You were offering valuable insights, yet the team’s resistance was evident.

After the briefing, Derek muttered to Emily, loud enough for Aaron to hear, “Well, she doesn’t waste time, does she?”

Aaron’s patience wore thin. “Morgan, a word,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

In his office, Aaron shut the door and faced Derek. “What’s your problem with her?”

Derek raised his hands defensively. “Hey, I didn’t say anything she didn’t earn. She walks in here acting like she knows everything. What do you expect us to do—roll out the red carpet?”

“I expect you to treat her with the same respect you’d give any other professional,” Aaron snapped. “She’s here because she’s the best at what she does, and we need her expertise. Whatever preconceived notions you have, leave them at the door.”

Derek frowned but nodded. “Got it, Hotch.”

Aaron exhaled slowly after Derek left. He knew he couldn’t shield you completely, but it infuriated him that he had to watch you navigate the team’s cold reception.

That evening, after everyone had gone home, you found Aaron in his office. You closed the door behind you and leaned against it, crossing your arms. “So, how bad was it?”

He looked up from his desk, his expression softening. “They’ll come around.”

You smirked, though your eyes held a flicker of vulnerability. “I’m not holding my breath.”

Aaron stood and walked over to you, resting a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to prove yourself to them. I know who you are, and eventually, they will too.”

You tilted your head, a teasing smile breaking through. “Is that your way of saying you’re proud of me, Agent Hotchner?”

He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. “Always.”

For a moment, the weight of the day lifted. Here, behind closed doors, you didn’t have to be the prodigy or the psychologist with a reputation. You were just you, and Aaron was fiercely determined to make sure the team saw that too—someday.

The next morning, as Aaron walked into Quantico, he noticed a huddle forming near Penelope’s desk. Derek, Emily, Spencer, JJ, and Penelope stood together, their voices low but animated. He had planned to keep walking, but a snippet of their conversation caught his attention.

“I’m telling you, I heard she’s impossible to work with,” Penelope whispered, her usual warmth absent.

“Yeah, and she’s already showing it,” Derek added. “Control issues, first day on the job.”

“So far, It’s just one case,” Emily said, though her tone was skeptical. “But she’s definitely… intense.”

“We don’t need someone analyzing us while we’re trying to profile an unsub,” JJ muttered.

“I don’t think she’s here for that,” Reid said hesitantly. “But… yeah, I’ve heard the whispers too.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened as he listened. He wanted to intervene, to defend you, but he bit his tongue. This wasn’t the time. Instead, he walked away, the sting of their words lingering. He felt almost betrayed. His team was usually better than this. They prided themselves on fairness, on seeing beyond the surface. But in this case, they were clinging to gossip and prejudice, and it hurt more than he wanted to admit.

When you arrived, you carried yourself with the same poise and determination Aaron admired. You greeted the team briefly, your no-nonsense demeanor firmly in place. “Let’s get to work,” you said, spreading the case files across the conference table.

Your approach was methodical and efficient, and though Aaron knew it was how you operated, he could see how it rubbed the team the wrong way. They weren’t used to outsiders, especially not ones who came in with your level of authority and expertise. But they were professionals, and they pushed their reservations aside as the case progressed.

Aaron watched you closely throughout the day. You were unflinching in your analysis, your insights sharp and accurate. When you spoke, your voice carried confidence, but he could sense the subtle edge in your tone—a shield you had learned to wield over years of proving yourself.

After the case briefing wrapped up, Aaron found you in one of the quieter corners of the office. You were reviewing your notes, your expression focused but unreadable.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, his voice low.

You glanced up, a small smile playing at your lips. “I’m fine, Aaron. It’s not my first rodeo.”

He stepped closer, his brows furrowing. “I’ve heard some of the things they’ve said,” he admitted. “They don’t know you, and they’re wrong. I’m sorry for how unwelcoming they’ve been.”

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. “You don’t have to apologize for them. I get it. They’re protective of their team, and I’m an outsider. It’ll take time.”

“It shouldn’t have to,” he said, his tone sharper than he intended. He softened, adding, “You shouldn’t have to prove yourself to them.”

Your smile widened, though there was a flicker of something softer in your eyes. “I’ve been proving myself my whole life, Aaron. This is nothing new. Besides, I’ve got you in my corner, right?”

“Always,” he said without hesitation.

For a moment, the weight of the day lifted, and he allowed himself to take comfort in your resilience. But as he returned to the team, he resolved to address their behavior. They needed to see you for who you truly were—and he wouldn’t rest until they did.

During the next case you assisted on, the tension had been simmering all day, and Aaron could feel it building like a storm. You had just delivered a sharp, insightful breakdown of the unsub’s likely behavior patterns, pointing out inconsistencies in the case file that had gone unnoticed. It was the kind of analysis that would have earned respect from anyone else, but not today. Not from this team, not yet.

The briefing room was quiet for a moment after you finished speaking. Emily exchanged a glance with Derek, and JJ tapped her pen against the table, her lips pressed into a thin line. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating.

“That’s… an interesting perspective,” Derek said, leaning back in his chair. His tone was polite, but Aaron caught the subtle edge, the unspoken doubt.

You didn’t falter. “It’s not just a perspective,” you replied, your voice calm and measured. “The data supports it. If you cross-reference the victimology with the geographic profile—”

“We get it,” Emily interrupted, her tone sharper than usual. “But we’ve been doing this a long time. We know how to read behavior.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened. He glanced at you, but your expression remained composed, even as he could see the faint tension in your posture. You nodded slightly, as if conceding the point, and continued reviewing the case files without another word.

The meeting wrapped soon after, but Aaron lingered behind, pretending to organize his notes. That’s when he heard it.

“I don’t know how much longer I can deal with her,” Emily muttered as the others gathered near the coffee station. “She’s so… clinical. It’s like she doesn’t even care about the victims, just the data.”

“She’s got control issues, for sure,” Derek added. “Like she’s got something to prove.”

JJ sighed. “Maybe Strauss sent her to micromanage us. I mean, why else would she be here? We’re already the best at what we do.”

Aaron slammed his folder shut, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room. The team froze, turning to see him standing there, his expression dark and unreadable.

“Enough,” he said, his voice low but laced with unmistakable anger. He stepped toward them, his gaze sweeping over each of them. “I don’t know what’s more disappointing--your lack of professionalism or your willingness to tear someone down based on assumptions and gossip.”

The team exchanged uneasy glances, but no one spoke.

“You think she’s here to micromanage you? She’s here to help. And the fact that you can’t see the value in her insights says more about your egos than it does about her methods.”

“Hotch, we didn’t mean—” JJ started, but he cut her off.

“No,” he said firmly. “You did mean it. And if you spent half as much energy working with her as you do undermining her, we’d be a hell of a lot closer to catching this unsub.”

The room fell silent. Aaron rarely raised his voice, and when he did, it carried the weight of finality. He let the silence hang for a moment before he continued.

“She’s not here to prove herself to you. She’s already proven herself, time and time again. It’s time for you to rise to her level, not drag her down to yours.”

With that, he turned and walked away, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he’d have to address this further later, but for now, he needed to find you. He wanted to make sure you were okay to remind you, in whatever small way he could, that he was still in your corner. Always.

Aaron Hotchner found you where he expected to: in one of the unused offices, deep in thought over the case files. You were perched on the edge of the desk, flipping through pages with a sharp focus that never failed to impress him. The tension he’d carried since leaving the briefing room eased slightly when he saw how calm you were.

You didn’t even look up when he stepped inside. “Didn’t expect you to find me so quickly,” you said, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Aaron leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I needed to check in. The team…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening. “They were out of line.”

That made you pause. You glanced up at him, amusement flickering in your eyes. “Aaron, it’s fine,” you said, setting the file down. “I’ve been in this position before. People don’t like change, and they don’t like outsiders. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be,” he replied, his voice firmer than he intended. “It’s not fair, and it’s not professional.”

You tilted your head, studying him in that way you always did when you were about to cut through the noise. “They don’t know, Aaron. About us.” Your tone was even, but there was a hint of something deeper there--not accusation, just acknowledgment.

He stiffened slightly, but nodded. “They don’t. And I’d prefer to keep it that way. For now.”

You let out a quiet hum, leaning back on your hands. “For now, sure. But you should think about it. They’re already questioning why you’re defending me. If they find out later that it’s because we’re involved, it won’t sit well with them. They’ll feel like you’ve been hiding something important.”

“They’ll feel betrayed,” Aaron said, the weight of the truth settling over him.

You nodded, a small, knowing smile on your face. “Exactly. Look, I can handle their doubts, their gossip, whatever they want to throw at me. But you need to decide how long you want to keep this a secret. They’re your team. They’re loyal to you. But they also need to trust you.”

Aaron stepped further into the room, his expression softening as he regarded you. “You don’t care what they think of you, do you?”

“Not even a little,” you said with a shrug, your confidence steady. “I’ve spent years dealing with this kind of thing. It’s not new, and it doesn’t bother me. What does bother me,” you added, meeting his eyes, “is the idea of this coming out later and making things harder for you. Or for us.”

Aaron let out a slow breath, running a hand over the back of his neck. You were right, of course. You always were. He couldn’t keep this from his team forever, and things with you had grown too serious for him to pretend otherwise. He had never been one to let his personal life interfere with his work, but this was different. You were different.

“This is serious,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

You arched a brow, a teasing smile breaking through. “Wow, Aaron. Way to make a girl feel special.”

He stepped closer, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “You know what I mean. Things are serious between us. You’re not going anywhere, and neither is the team. I need to find a way to make this work.”

You softened, your hand brushing against his as he stood next to you. “You will. They’ll come around, Aaron. And if they don’t, well…” You shrugged, the corner of your mouth lifting in a smirk. “I’m not going anywhere either.”

Aaron felt a warmth spread through him, a rare sense of peace in the midst of the chaos. You were right, as always. He would figure it out--not just because he had to, but because you were worth it.

And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe that it would all work out.

Aaron Hotchner had always believed in leading by example. Transparency, fairness, and honesty were core tenets of how he ran his team, and they had rewarded him with loyalty and mutual respect. But as he stood in the conference room, waiting for his team to gather for an unscheduled meeting, he knew he had failed to uphold one of those principles.

The team filtered in, curiosity and unease written across their faces. JJ and Emily exchanged glances, Reid clutched his ever-present notebook, and Derek leaned against the edge of the table with his arms crossed. Penelope, usually lighthearted, looked slightly nervous. Rossi lingered at the back, arms crossed, his brow furrowed in thought.

When the door closed, Aaron cleared his throat and took a steadying breath. “I asked you all here because there’s something I need to address—something I should have told you from the beginning.”

The team straightened, their collective focus sharpening. Aaron had their attention.

“You’ve all expressed concerns about having a forensic psychologist embedded in the team,” he began, his voice calm but firm. “You’ve questioned her presence, her methods, and, frankly, her character. Some of those comments have been professional disagreements, but others have crossed the line. I’ve let it continue longer than I should have, and for that, I take responsibility.”

Emily shifted uncomfortably while Morgan frowned. Reid’s brow furrowed in confusion, his pen tapping lightly against his notebook. Rossi, though silent, tilted his head slightly, a knowing look flickering across his face.

Aaron met each of their gazes in turn, his tone unwavering. “The reason I know she’s good at her job—why I trust her, and why I know she’s not here to spy on us or undermine our work—is because I’ve been seeing her outside of work. For a while now.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Reid blinked rapidly, his pen freezing mid-air. JJ’s mouth opened slightly as if to speak, and Penelope let out a small, involuntary gasp. Derek sat up straighter, his brows furrowed in disbelief. Emily’s eyes widened, but she quickly masked her surprise. Rossi, however, didn’t look shocked at all. Instead, his lips quirked into the faintest of smirks, as though confirming a suspicion.

“I had no say in her placement on this team,” Aaron continued, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. “Strauss made the decision, and she made it clear that the reason is simple: she’s the best. You’ve seen it for yourselves, even if you haven’t wanted to admit it. Her insights have already helped move this case forward. She is not your enemy, nor is she here to judge you.”

He paused, letting his words sink in. “I didn’t disclose our relationship because I wanted to keep our personal lives separate from our professional ones. But as your Unit Chief and as her partner, I will not tolerate disrespect toward her—whether it’s behind her back or to her face.”

Reid, finally finding his voice, asked hesitantly, “Does she…know about us? I mean, our dynamics, our methods? Or does she see us as part of the problem?”

Aaron’s expression softened slightly as he addressed the question. “She knows exactly who you are and how good you are at what you do. She’s here to help you do your jobs better, not to interfere. But she also deserves the same respect you’d give any other member of this team.”

Rossi finally spoke, his tone measured. “And you think telling us this now is going to smooth things over?” His words weren’t accusatory, but they carried weight.

“I think,” Aaron replied, meeting Rossi’s gaze, “that you deserved to know the truth. And I think it’s time we focus on the job at hand rather than creating divisions that don’t need to exist.”

The silence lingered until Derek broke it. “Hotch, we didn’t mean to—”

Aaron held up a hand. “I know you didn’t mean harm, but intentions don’t erase the impact. This team works because we trust each other. That trust goes both ways. If there’s something you need to say, say it to me or to her directly. Gossip and disrespect have no place here.”

JJ nodded, her expression softening. “You’re right. We were out of line. I think…I think we just felt blindsided.”

Aaron’s tone eased, though it remained firm. “I understand. Change isn’t easy, but it’s necessary. You’ll see soon enough why she’s here. Until then, I need your cooperation.”

Emily exchanged a glance with Morgan, then nodded. “We’ll work on it. I promise.”

Rossi gave a small nod of approval, his smirk gone but his understanding clear. “She’s good, Aaron. I’ve seen it. Let’s make sure the rest of the team sees it too.”

Reid looked thoughtful, his pen tapping rhythmically again. “I think we can…adjust. If she’s here to make us better, that’s not a bad thing.”

Aaron gave a single nod, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Good. That’s all I wanted to say. Dismissed.”

As the team filed out, murmuring quietly among themselves, Rossi lingered behind. “You know,” he said, crossing his arms, “you could’ve just told me this a week ago.”

Aaron allowed himself the faintest smile. “Would it have made a difference?”

“Probably not,” Rossi said with a shrug, “but it would’ve saved you the speech.” With that, he left, leaving Aaron alone to gather his thoughts.

For now, he had taken the first step. And he could only hope it was enough.

Over the next few days, Aaron began to notice subtle shifts in his team’s behavior toward you. It wasn’t immediate, nor was it dramatic, but the signs were there. During case briefings, they no longer exchanged skeptical glances when you spoke. Instead, they began nodding along or even asking follow-up questions. Derek, who had been one of the most vocal skeptics, offered a rare compliment about your interrogation technique after a successful suspect interview.

“She’s got a way of getting under people’s skin,” Morgan admitted to Rossi when he thought Aaron wasn’t listening. “In a good way, I guess.”

Aaron didn’t respond, but he tucked the comment away, feeling an unspoken sense of satisfaction.

Even Reid, who had initially kept his distance, began peppering you with questions about your graduate work. You seemed to enjoy indulging him, discussing obscure psychological theories with the same enthusiasm he brought to the conversation. JJ and Emily followed suit, no longer as guarded, and Penelope—while still wary—had gone out of her way to show you how to use the BAU’s internal systems.

Aaron observed it all with quiet pride. His team was warming up to you, just as he had hoped, and it wasn’t because he’d told them to—it was because of you. Your intelligence, your confidence, and your ability to adapt were slowly breaking down the barriers they’d put up.

That evening, as the two of you wrapped up some paperwork in his office, you leaned back in your chair and smirked at him. “You know,” you said, your voice light with amusement, “you’re enjoying this way too much.”

Aaron looked up from his file, one brow raised. “Enjoying what?”

“You’re like the team dad,” you teased, crossing your arms. “All broody and protective, wanting the stepmom to be liked by the kids.”

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, low and rich. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” you shot back, grinning. “Because I think you’ve been paying more attention to their approval ratings for me than I have.”

He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head but still smiling. “Maybe. But only because I know how much they mean to you—and how much you mean to me. I want this to work.”

Your expression softened, and for a moment, the teasing dropped. “It already is, Aaron. You don’t have to worry.”

His smile lingered as he looked at you, the tension that had been weighing on him for weeks finally starting to lift.

The real sign of progress came at the end of the week. The team had just wrapped up a grueling case, and as everyone packed up their things, Derek clapped his hands together.

“Alright, we’re going out. Drinks, food, and maybe a little dancing. Who’s in?”

JJ and Emily immediately agreed, and Reid nodded hesitantly, though he muttered something about “just one drink.” Rossi chuckled but offered a quick “Count me in.” Penelope looked around, her bright demeanor back in full force. “Where are we going? And more importantly, is there karaoke?”

Derek laughed. “No promises, Garcia.”

Then, almost casually, JJ turned to you. “You should come,” she said, her tone friendly and genuine. “You’ve had a long week too. You deserve to relax a little.”

Aaron didn’t miss the slight hesitation in your posture before you smiled. “I might take you up on that.”

“Good,” JJ said, already texting someone. “It’ll be fun.”

Aaron stayed silent, watching the moment unfold. The invitation wasn’t forced or reluctant—it was sincere. It was an olive branch, extended without fanfare, and he could tell by the look on your face that you recognized it for what it was.

As the team began filing out, chatting about where to go, you lingered by his desk. “That was unexpected,” you said quietly, glancing at him with a small smile.

“They’re coming around,” Aaron replied, his voice equally soft. “I told you they would.”

You smirked. “Well, Dad, looks like the kids like the stepmom after all.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he stood. “Let’s just hope I can keep them from embarrassing us tonight.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” you teased, grabbing your bag. “Now, come on. You’ve got to show me if Unit Chief Hotchner can actually let loose.”

As you both headed out to join the others, Aaron felt a rare lightness in his chest. Things were falling into place—his team, you, everything. And for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to enjoy it. 

Tag List:

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@todorokishoe24

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@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

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@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

@person-005

[iraot]

Word Count: 13,138 Content Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, M/M sex, M/F/M sex, knotting, rough sex, copious amounts of body fluids, primal behavior, oral ( m & f receiving ), sex with strangers, no protection, breeding, creampie(s), A/N: I worked on this like non-stop for two days, probably should have slept more but I wanted to finish this so bad before I have to go back to work tomorrow. I don't really have time to write during work days, so I hope this sates everyone who reads it :3 Also thank you to @hyyih for being my beta and correcting my atrocious grammar. ao3 link

Beneath the sleek exterior of the website, Heat Haven was not a Dating Site. It was a lifeline for Omegas in desperate need, with suppressants hard to get due to political upheaval (they wanted more omegas to breed since the population of Alphas was dwindling). The platform bills itself as a "discreet, sophisticated service for Omega-Alphas seeking biological compatibility," but everyone knew what it was: the most reliable way to find someone to fuck an omega through one of the most delirious moments of her life— her heat.

No coy euphemisms. No prose or fake wining and dining or promises of long walks in the park ruminating about shared dreams of the future. Heat Haven catered to primality. It was about survival, desire and need.

The homepage was clean soft gradients of blue and light Grey giving it a calming effect to soothe an omega's frazzled nerves. "find relief, find safety, find who you need." — floated over the serene image of an omega half curled into a bed with her nest surrounding her.

Once logged in, the interface told a different story. This wasn't a place for purity; it was raw, brutal and a little thrilling in its honesty. The Users profiles featured key details like "Rut Status", "Knot Size Preference" and a graphic "Pheromone Match Rating" system that calculated compatibility based on submitted scent samples. Uploading your heat cycle schedule was an optional feature, but highly recommended especially for those Omegas who preferred to line up potential partners before their bodies turned them into a mess of slick and reduced them to a needy fevered haze.

And the reviews? Oh, the reviews. Each Alpha profile came loaded with ratings and detailed feedback from past hookups.

"Knotted me so hard I couldn't walk for two days, 10/10." "Not rough enough, felt like he wasn't committed; Beta? 3/10" But the Omegas left reviews too, their profiles a haunting combination of raw vulnerability and primal sexuality. Alphas could make their own requests, "Experienced Omegas only, no first-timers." whereas Omegas could also leave demands. "Breed me, knot me, leave - no games."

It wasn’t uncommon for pictures of their time to be uploaded; explicit heat photos, glossy-eyes and cock drunk expressions on their faces, a blatant challenge for Alphas who scroll the site hunting for that exact kind of submission.

She was desperate. Her heat was closing in fast just a couple of days now and the clinic had run out of suppressants. Fifteen fucking days until the end of the month, and they couldn’t keep stock? It was her first heat in eight long months, and the thought of facing it unprepared made her stomach twist. If she thought she could tough it out alone, maybe she’d lock herself in a padded room and try to sweat it out. But she wasn’t naive. She knew what would happen if she tried. Going her whole heat without even one knot wasn’t just miserable—it was dangerous.

The slick was the issue.

Without it, an Alpha could spiral. Too many ruts without an Omega’s slick, and they risked going feral—a state that was as ugly as it sounded. And Omegas? They weren’t any better off. Her body wouldn’t just let her skip a heat out of convenience. No, her heat would stretch on, lasting days longer than usual, until her body got what it was biologically screaming for.

An Alpha’s scent.

An Alpha’s knot.

She shuddered at the thought, scrolling over her Heat Haven profile as she fought off memories of the last time. It hadn’t been great. The Alpha had been too rough, angry even, and she left the encounter sore in ways that weren’t satisfying or cathartic. It was enough to make her hesitant now, her finger hovering over the keyboard as she considered her options. Sure, she could try to find someone outside the site, but the odds of getting a decent Alpha without going through Heat Haven’s vetting process?

Not worth the gamble.

She sighed, resigned, and got to work tweaking her profile.

First, she added a few selfies. Nothing too risqué, but enough to grab attention. Heat Haven had a brutal marketplace vibe, and standing out was half the battle. If she didn’t look good, she wouldn’t get offers worth accepting.

Next, she updated her heat schedule to reflect the urgency. Imminent. That single word was often enough to draw in Alphas who got off on that raw, fevered desperation. And fine, maybe she was desperate, but that didn’t mean she was throwing away all her standards. She added a note: Willing to host. That was non-negotiable. She didn’t trust some Alpha to throw together a decent nest for her. It would be her nest, with her blankets, her scent, her comforts. At least then she wouldn’t be starving on some bachelor’s floor because the idiot forgot to stock more than protein bars.

Lastly, she hesitated over the relationship status filter. Did it matter? Did she care if the Alpha was single, mated, or just some guy looking to scratch an itch? No. She deleted the filter entirely. If an Alpha could do his job—get her through her heat safely and satisfyingly, she didn’t give a shit if he had a partner at home or not.

She leaned back in her chair, staring at the profile for a long minute. It was all there. The pictures, the urgency, the note about her nest. It wasn’t flashy, but it was honest. And with her heat bearing down on her, she didn’t have time to overthink it. Her body was already starting to turn against her, the low, dull ache in her core an unwelcome reminder of what was coming.

Now, all she had to do was wait.

Unsurprisingly, it didn’t take long for her profile to start attracting attention. It never did. She was careful to present herself well—clear, direct, and unashamed of what she needed. But as the site gained traction in recent years, it had drawn in more users, including some real risks. A lot of Omegas still hesitated to trust it, worried about whether it could really protect them from predators or clueless Alphas with no sense of boundaries.

What those idiots failed to understand, though, was just how dangerous a scorned Omega could be. Ever heard the saying, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned?" Well, multiply that by a thousand, throw in heat pheromones, and give her the instincts of a pissed-off wolf. There were Alphas who’d learned that lesson the hard way—leaving her nest unsatisfied, trying to push boundaries, or outright being reckless. She wasn’t the type to let herself get walked all over. Not ever again.

Her inbox lit up with notifications, the scent-matching algorithm already doing its work. Most of the messages were what she expected: blunt, one-line propositions from desperate Alphas or sleazy attempts at charm. But one message stood out.

A pair.

[AbyssalFlame Messaged You]

It wasn’t uncommon for Alpha-Beta pairs to search for an Omega together. In fact, it had its appeal. A Beta could temper an Alpha’s rougher edges, bringing a kind of balance that made the entire experience smoother for everyone involved. They weren’t just caretakers, though many played that role instinctively. Betas had their own unique place in the throes of biologically driven passion—they weren’t immune to the pheromonal intensity that heat and rut created, and sometimes, they heightened it.

Her eyes flicked to the profile. The Alpha was named Sylus and his presence practically leapt off the screen even through a few lines of text. His profile picture was classic Alpha energy—broad shoulders, a sharp jawline, and a smirk that teetered somewhere between cocky and inviting. His description was just as straightforward: Alpha, mid-rut control certified. Looking for an Omega who values stamina and strength. Knot-friendly, non-aggressive but firm when needed. Paired with a Beta to ensure complete heat care.

Then there was Rafayel, the Beta, who looked like he’d walked out of a painting. His features were softer, more refined, and he had a kind of calm confidence that balanced out Sylus’s intensity. His profile hinted at a creative streak—he was an artist, apparently, with an obsession for oceanic landscapes. He’d added a personal note to the profile: Betas don’t just pour water on the fire; sometimes we fan it. I’ll make sure your nest stays in one piece and you’re never left wanting.

She felt a flicker of intrigue, despite herself. An Alpha-Beta pair wasn’t something she usually considered, but Sylus and Rafayel didn’t come across as your average duo. They’d clearly put effort into their profile, making it known they’d respect her boundaries but wouldn’t shy away from giving her what she needed. And right now? That was sounding more appealing than sifting through a pile of overeager Alphas who barely understood how to handle a heat.

Her thumb hovered over the reply button, her thoughts racing as she reread the message. It wasn’t particularly long or flowery, but it was direct and straight to the point. Sylus had written it, though it was signed with both their names. That little detail made her pause. Most Alpha-Beta pairs that messaged her on Heat Haven usually didn’t bother with that level of coordination—it was always one taking the lead and the other fading into the background. But here, Sylus and Rafayel were clearly presenting themselves as a unit. That alone gave them an edge over the sea of poorly thought-out messages clogging her inbox.

The message read:

"Saw your profile—noticed you’re looking to host and have your nest set up. That’s a good call. I’m Sylus, and this is Rafayel, my Beta. We’ve got experience with Omega care, and we make a good team for heats. You’ll get my focus, strength, and stamina, and Rafayel’s here to keep things balanced and make sure everything stays smooth. If you want to talk specifics or see our heat-session reviews, we can share them. Your profile caught our eye, and we’d like to help. Heat’s a hard thing to face alone. Let us know."

It wasn’t pushy. There were no assumptions, no condescending overconfidence. They didn’t jump right into over-the-top promises of how great Sylus’s knot would feel or how Rafayel could pamper her in the aftermath. Just a straightforward offer, clear boundaries, and a hint of experience without coming off cocky.

She leaned back in her chair, staring at their profile pictures again. Sylus’s eyes practically burned through the screen, that quiet Alpha intensity impossible to miss. Meanwhile, Rafayel’s smile was disarmingly calm, his body language radiating an effortless kind of reassurance. They balanced each other out in ways that felt… solid. Reliable. Like they actually knew what they were doing and wouldn’t treat her heat like some glorified hookup.

Still, she hesitated.

Her last experience had left her wary—an overly aggressive Alpha with a nasty temper and no self-control, who’d turned her carefully constructed nest into a disaster zone. She had promised herself after that she wouldn’t rush into another arrangement, no matter how desperate her heat made her. And it was coming—oh, it was coming. Her body was already betraying her, the dull ache in her core growing worse with every hour. The pre-heat signs were undeniable: the way her skin prickled, the way her scent was shifting, growing sweeter and thicker in anticipation. She had maybe two days, tops, before she’d be too far gone to make rational decisions.

Sylus and Rafayel’s offer felt safe, or as safe as anything could feel in a situation like this. They weren’t asking her to give up control, and they seemed to respect her autonomy. That mattered. She wasn’t about to let some Alpha waltz in and try to dominate her on his terms. This is my heat, she thought, her lips pressing into a firm line. I decide how it goes.

But there was a nagging curiosity in the back of her mind, too. What would it actually feel like to have both an Alpha and a Beta tending to her? Most Omegas swore by it, claiming the dual dynamic was unmatched for heat care. The Alpha for the primal need—his knot, his pheromones, the raw power she’d crave when the heat really hit. And the Beta for emotional steadiness, the touch that wasn’t purely driven by instinct but by deliberate, soothing care. It wasn’t just about survival—it was about satisfaction. Fulfillment.

She inhaled sharply, the ache in her belly flaring at the thought. Fine. She wasn’t going to overthink this anymore. Heat wasn’t the time for overanalyzing.

Her fingers moved quickly over the keyboard.

"Thanks for the message. I appreciate how straightforward you both are. Hosting’s a non-negotiable for me—I need my nest and my space. If that works for you, I’m open to discussing specifics. I’ll need to see both of your certifications and heat-session reviews before we finalize anything. My heat’s imminent, so we’ll need to arrange this quickly. Let me know if you’re still interested."

She hit send before she could second-guess herself. The knot of tension in her chest eased slightly, though the low hum of anticipation in her body only seemed to grow stronger.

It didn’t take long for them to reply. The little notification popped up less than ten minutes later.

[AbyssalFlame]: "Absolutely still interested. Hosting’s not an issue. I’ll send our documents and reviews now—you’ll see everything’s in order. Let us know what else you need. Timing-wise, we’re flexible. Rafayel’s great at helping prep nests if you want assistance before things kick in."

She clicked on the attachment they sent. Their certifications checked out: Sylus was mid-rut control certified, exactly as his profile said, and Rafayel had completed Omega care training. Their reviews? Impressive.

"Sylus is all raw strength, but never loses control. Knotted me exactly how I needed and left me feeling satisfied in ways I can’t even describe. Rafayel was a dream—he kept me hydrated, helped me recover between sessions, and his scent was so grounding."

The perfect balance of Alpha and Beta energy. I was nervous about trying a pair for my heat, but they exceeded my expectations completely. I didn’t even think about the time passing—I just felt cared for the entire time."

"Knots for days. Rafayel’s hands are magic. Enough said."

She found herself smiling faintly, despite the heat rising in her cheeks. Maybe...just maybe this wasn’t a bad idea after all.

She sat back, chewing her lip as she scrolled through their reviews again, feeling her body responding against her will. The detailed accounts stirred something deep in her gut, fanning that slow-growing burn of her pre-heat. Her scent thickened in the room, sweet and heady, and she cursed under her breath. Get it together, she thought, shaking her head like she could somehow shake the heat away with it. But it wasn’t going anywhere. It was crawling up her spine, tugging at her insides, leaving her restless and far too aware of her body’s needs.

Sylus and Rafayel had their shit together, though. That much was obvious. The certifications, the reviews, the way they handled her concerns without a single ounce of pushback—it was all enough to calm her nerves, even if her instincts were screaming at her to move faster. The truth was, she didn’t have time to be overly picky. Her heat wasn’t going to wait for her to deliberate like this. And from the way her core throbbed every time her thoughts wandered to their message, her body had already made its decision.

Before she could overthink it, she fired off another reply.

"Everything looks good on your end. Let’s lock this in. My heat’s going to hit in about 48 hours, so I’ll need you both here tomorrow evening to prepare. Bring anything you might need—supplies, clothes, whatever—but understand this: my nest is sacred. Don’t mess with it. You can add to it, but nothing gets taken out or moved. If that’s clear, then we’re good to go."

She stared at the message for a moment, her thumb hovering over the send button. It wasn’t exactly warm, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t here to make friends. This was about getting through her heat without losing her mind or her dignity.

She hit send.

The response came almost immediately.

[AbyssalFlame]: Understood. We’ll respect your space. We’ll bring supplies and anything else you might need. See you tomorrow evening—looking forward to meeting you."

Her stomach twisted, a mix of nerves and anticipation settling there as she set her phone down. It was done. She had a plan, and if everything went smoothly, this would be just what she needed to survive the week. Still, the idea of having two strangers in her space, her nest of all places, made her uneasy. An Alpha and a Beta. Sylus, with his smoldering, intense energy, and Rafayel, with his disarmingly calm demeanor.

She wasn’t sure which one unnerved her more.

The next evening came faster than she expected. She spent most of the day distracted, her body increasingly betraying her as the hours ticked by. The ache low in her belly was no longer subtle, and her slick had started to come in spurts, her underwear damp enough to force her into constant wardrobe changes. She was grumpy and restless, her nerves shot, as she fussed over her nest for the hundredth time, rearranging blankets and pillows that didn’t even need rearranging.

When the knock finally came, her heart jumped into her throat. She froze, her hands gripping a blanket as her instincts flared. Her scent spiked, sweet and thick and impossible to ignore. She hated how obvious it was—how they’d smell her the moment the door opened and knew she was close to breaking.

She forced herself to move, smoothing her shirt as she made her way to the door. Taking a deep breath, she opened it.

Sylus stood in front, and she immediately understood why so many of his reviews had described him as "intense." He was tall, a lot taller than she expected – and broad, his presence radiating that distinct Alpha energy that practically demanded attention. His hair was white—she’d seen it in the pictures but she supposed it still shocked her , like he’d run a hand through it on the way over, and his sharp jawline made her swallow hard. His crimson eyes locked onto her instantly, and the way his nostrils flared as he took in her scent sent a shiver straight through her.

Behind him, Rafayel was the perfect counterbalance. Softer, leaner, but no less confident. His ocean-blue eyes with a shimmer of red or purple hues held hers for just a second before flicking to Sylus, as if silently checking in with him. His calm smile, paired with his easy stance, was disarming in a way that made her chest tighten. He carried a bag slung over one shoulder, and she caught a glimpse of supplies—water bottles, snacks, extra blankets.

He’d come prepared.

“Hi,” Sylus said, his voice low and steady, though she didn’t miss the slight rasp to it. His rut wasn’t far off, she realized, it seemed they were on the same page on that front. Not bad enough to lose control, but close enough that the edge was there.

She could practically feel it.

“Hi,” she said back, stepping aside to let them in.

Rafayel was the first to move, giving her a small nod as he walked past. “Nice setup,” he said, glancing around her apartment before setting the bag down near the edge of her nest. “We’ll stick to this area unless you tell us otherwise.”

Sylus followed him inside, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he turned to scan the room. “Your scent is already thick,” he murmured, his voice low enough that it was almost a growl. “You’re close.”

She crossed her arms, both annoyed and embarrassed by how easily he could read her.

“I know,” she snapped, before softening just slightly. “That’s why you’re here.”

Sylus’s lips twitched into the faintest smirk, and for a split second, she thought he might say something cocky. But Rafayel cut in before he could.

“Let’s get things set up,” Rafayel said smoothly, his tone so calm it was almost soothing. He crouched near her nest, carefully setting out a few items from the bag—water, nutrient bars, extra towels. He didn’t touch anything in her nest itself, just added to the edges, respecting her space exactly like she’d demanded.

Sylus, meanwhile, stood back, watching her with that same sharp focus. “We’ll take care of you,” he said simply, his voice soft but firm.

The words sent a shiver through her, and she hated how much she wanted to believe him. But as the first real wave of her heat hit, her knees threatening to buckle, she realized she didn’t have much of a choice.

Her legs felt weak as the first wave of her heat slammed into her, like an invisible hand gripping her from the inside, twisting low in her belly until her breath came in sharp, shallow pulls. The flames that licked under her skin caused a groan to escape her, she tightened her grip on the edge of the doorframe, cursing under her breath as her body betrayed her in front of them. The two men froze immediately, their gazes snapping to her as her scent spiked and pheromones flooded the hair like a heavy mist, heavy and cloying like sweet, overripe fruit. It was suffocating, but it was all she could do to stay upright.

Sylus was the first to react, his crimson eyes darkened as he took a single step forward, his entire posture shifting in that uniquely Alpha way, predatory, protective, and all instinct ready to act. He wasn’t out of control, on the contrary his movements were entirely deliberate. When he reached out a hand toward her, he stopped short, waiting for her permission.

“You’re already peaking,” he spoke, his voice rougher than before. The gravel in his tone sent a shiver down her spine, her body hyper aware of the Alpha before her.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, though her voice sounded anything but.

“You’re not,” Rafayel said gently, his tone as smooth as silk. He stepped forward as well, his hands slightly raised like he was approaching a skittish animal. His eyes glistened in the light of her room, the ocean blue pierced through her with startling clarity. She noticed the faint stain of red in them now, just enough to give them an otherworldly depth, like a sunset bleeding into the horizon.

She hated how safe he looked, how disarming and steady he felt just standing there, it made her feel exposed.

“I just need to sit down,” she replied, forcing herself to take a step back towards the living room.

Rafayel followed her immediately, his movements fluid and careful as he kept his distance. “Let me help you,” he offered, his voice softer now. “We won’t touch your nest until you say so, but if you fall, I am catching you.”

She hesitated, her pride bristling at the idea of needing help, but another sharp pull deep inside her left her gasping and his arms came around her keeping her from hitting the floor.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered softly, moving her to sit in her nest, his hands on her waist guiding her as her legs were weak, his touch feather light like he was being careful not to set her off. Once she was nestled into the pile of blankets and pillows she’d spent the entire day obsessing over, her body sagged into the softness and for a moment she just breathed.

Sylus stayed near the door, his crimson eyes locked on her as he adjusted his stance. His presence was electric, his scent – like hers, was filling up the room like a heavy blanket, but he didn’t move closer. The amount of control this required should have impressed her but she simply had other concerns to deal with. His gaze flicked to Rafayel, there was a silent communication between them-one that she didn’t miss.

“Let me know what you need me to do,” Sylus said, his voice low and steady. There was a tightness in his tone, and she knew his rut was coming on just as fast as her heat – neither of them quite knew why. His nostrils flared, her scent was pouring off her now, wrapping around him, tugging at every Alpha urge in his body.

“She’s already close,” Rafayel murmured, crouching beside her nest but keeping enough distance to respect her space. His eyes softened as they landed on her, “You’ve been holding back haven’t you?”

Her eyes downcast, then nodded her head a little. The small croon that escaped him prickled her skin with a chill, a smirk curving his lips.

“Don’t worry, Cutie...we’re going to take real good care of you.”

Her body responded all too kindly and she felt her cheeks heat when she felt slick drip onto her underwear. If she were being honest, this was likely her least favorite part – the amount of lubrication her body made was obscene. She knew it was to help them adjust to the Alpha’s incredible size but it didn’t make it any better. It was messy and sticky, like silicone lube that could actually be washed away.

Her body tensed as another wave hit, stronger this time. A broken whimper escaped her throat before she could stop it, burying her face in her hands as heat flushed through her skin. Their gazes too added to the flames that licked at her veins, that centered inside her with undeniable want for pleasure.

“Let me come closer,” Sylus spoke, his voice strained. He wasn’t asking because he wanted to. He was asking because she needed him to and they all knew it. “I won’t touch your nest, and I won’t do anything until you say so but you need me near you.”

She raised her head from her hands, panting softly as her scent spiked again, flooding the room with the unmistakable sweetness that could only be from an Omega. Sylus’s crimson eyes flashed, her defenses faltering  as she took in the sight of him standing there, chest rising and falling steadily, muscles taught with careful restraint. She realized then, as much as she loathed to admit it- she did need him. The heat clawing through her body wasn’t going to ease on its own, and his presence, powerful and ground, was exactly what her body was screaming for.

“Come closer.” Her voice was soft and laced with desperation, her cheeks burned, the vulnerability of the moment hitting her. The walls she had carefully built to keep herself safe from overbearing alphas were slowly crumbling due to the very patient men before her.

“I—I need you here.” she motioned to the edge of her nest.

Sylus doesn’t hesitate even a second, the words left her lips and he was already moving across the room in smooth strides. He knelt at the edge of her nest, his size and presence seemed to fill the space instantly. Crimson eyes locked on hers, but he didn’t crowd her. He remained just where she’d told him to, waiting to be invited in further.

“Better?” he whispered, his voice low and even, unintimidating – just what she needed. The unmistakable rasp of arousal was tinging his tone now, His instincts were clearly pulling at him, but he had unadulterated control of himself, a feat not many Alphas could claim to.

“Better,” she admitted, the tension in her chest slowly ebbing away slightly just from having him closer. Her body still ached, her heat pushing at her limits of sanity, but the sigh of him; his broad shoulders, his sharp jawline and messy hair—was strangely calming.

Behind him, Rafayel shifted into view, his eyes flicking between the two of them with quiet understanding. He crouched beside Sylus and stroked his neck gently with soft contemplation, a delicate smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he felt Sylus leaning into his touch ever so slightly igniting a rumble in his chest..

“Do you need anything else before things get worse?” Rafayel asked, his eyes turning to her. “Water, food...anything you didn’t think to grab earlier?”

“I stocked everything earlier, I just.. I need you both to stay close.” She whispered hating how needy her voice sounded but by the look on her Alpha’s Sylus’s face he didn’t seem to mind it one bit.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Rafayel reassured her, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his lips – a tinge of pink flaming across his cheeks. Her scent was strong, unwavering and, normally, Betas weren’t supposed to feel this affected, However, there was something different here that none of them could place. “This is what we’re here for.”

Sylus leaned in slightly, his crimson eyes glowing faintly as his Alpha instincts flared. The scent of her heat was overpowering this close, and she saw the way his jaw tightened as he fought to keep himself steady. “Do you want me to touch you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, but no less intense.

Her breath hitched, her body reacting immediately to the prospect. Every part of her was screaming yes, yet the words stuck in her throat, she hesitated, her fingers curling into the soft fleece blanket beneath her. She was on the edge of losing herself to this heat that was curling around her and dragging her into primal insanity – the pull of her instincts too strong to ignore any longer.

“Yes,” she finally breathed, her voice trembling. “Please.” a beg.

Sylus’s tension eased slightly, his eyes softening as he reached out and curling his hand against her jaw, his touch firm but careful. The moment his skin met hers, it was like a jolt of electricity shot through her, the tension in her body breaking as a small, involuntary whimper escaped her lips.

“You’re okay.” His voice deep and soothing, a rumble sounding  through his chest–a purr.

Rafayel shifted closer as well, his presence a calming contrast to Sylus’s intensity. “You’re in good hands,” he said softly, his gaze settling on hers. “Just focus on what you need, and we’ll take care of the rest.”

Her body relaxed slightly under their careful attention, the weight of the heat pressing down on her feeling a little more bearable now that they were here. Sylus’s hand moved slowly brushing her jaw and neck gently, his thumb stroking her cheek softly. “Don’t fight it, kitten,” he whispered a small smile curving his lips, “I’ve got you.”

He was right, and she knew it. There was no point in holding back now—not when her heat was already dragging her under and not when this capable pair was oh so willing to do whatever she needed.

“I trust you,” she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Sylus’s eyes closed and he took a calming breath, “Good,” he said, voice low and steady.

“Then let's begin.”

With that, he leaned in, edging into her nest waiting for her to protest but she didn’t. Her hand moved and pressed to his chest as he was closer to her, his shoes were long gone and he could feel Rafayel behind him rubbing his back in gentle circles. He felt his Beta’s mouth on his neck and he lifted her jaw, “I’m going to kiss you,” he murmured before claiming her mouth with his own.

The moment Sylus’s lips met hers, her mind went blissfully blank. His kiss was firm yet, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to savor her. His lips moved against hers with an intoxicating mix of control and heat, and when his tongue brushed against her bottom lip she eagerly opened for him. A soft, helpless moan escaped her, muffled against his mouth, and she felt the rumble of his purr vibrate through his chest against her palm.

Her hand curled tighter into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, and Sylus didn’t resist. His presence, overwhelming and grounding all at once, was exactly what her body craved. The raw pull of her heat sharpened, her instincts screaming louder now that he was finally giving her what she needed. She could feel the controlled strength in the way he cupped her jaw, his thumb brushing the edge of her cheek as if reminding her she wasn’t alone.

Behind him, Rafayel’s touches were steady and reassuring, the Beta’s fingers tracing slow soothing patterns along his back. The contrast between them was startling, but not unwelcome. Where Sylus was fire—intense and consuming—Rafayel was water, calming the burn and easing her into the storm.

“That’s it,” Rafayel breathed, leaning forward as his breath brushed against Sylus’s ear, “take care of our Omega,” he murmured before gently kissing his jaw, his eyes peering eagerly at where their mouths connected in a heated display.

The sound of his voice sent another shiver through her, and she turned her head just enough to meet his gaze. Her lips parted from Sylus's, who was heavy lidded with desire and thinly veiled control, feeling his pants tighten considerably as his rut edged closer the longer her scent was the oxygen he breathed.

“I can’t---I can’t think,” she admitted softly, her voice trembling as her heat clawed at her insides, leaving her slick dripping down her thighs.

“You don’t need to think,” Rafayel whispered, his tone firm yet reassuring. He reached out, brushing his fingers against her temple before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “That's why we’re here—we’re going to take such good care of you, cutie.”

Rafayel stroked her cheek moving closer to her, her eyes fluttering close at his touch, the tenderness in his movements almost startling.

“You’re doing good, kitten,” he murmured against her skin, his mouth pressing to her neck as he gripped her waist and pulled her body flush against his own. “Let it happen, we’ll catch you.”

The knot of tension in her chest loosened at his words, and she exhaled shakily, her body instinctively leaning into him. Her heat was pulling her under, dragging her deeper with every second, but with Sylus’s strength and Rafayel’s calm presence surrounding her, she didn’t feel like she was drowning anymore.

Sylus shifted, edging further into her nest as she leaned back into the blankets, his hands moved carefully, one resting on her hip while the other continued to cup her jaw, keeping her grounded as his eyes searched hers. “Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes,” she breathed, the word slipping out without hesitation. Her fingers curled into his shirt again, pulling him closer as her heat roared through her, leaving no room for pride or second guessing. “Please.”

Sylus’s eyes darkened and he nodded once before lowering his head to kiss her again, this time less restrained and more heated. She melted into the blankets of her nest. Her body arching into his hand that tightened on her hip, his purr deepened, vibrating through her as he kissed her like he just couldn’t get enough.

Rafayel helped him take his shirt off, exposed the muscular expanse of his chest, he could tell his Alpha was warm and the last thing they needed was for him to overheat. Watching him with her had his own pants tightening and he tried to ignore it but the intensity was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Never had he ever felt this way when they were with other Omegas.

Rafayel tilted her mouth from Sylus’s and claimed her lips with his own, his kiss was so different from Sylus’s—softer, more deliberate, like he was savoring every second. His hand cupped the side of her face and, his tongue meeting hers as she gasped against his mouth while Sylus pressed wet kisses to her neck, leaving small marks against her skin.

Her heart raced, her body trembling as her instincts took over completely. “That's it, kitten,” Sylus whispered against her skin as he removed the button up shirt exposing her to their gaze. He groaned and moved his lips down her chest rutting against her hip.

Sylus’s growl was deep and guttural as his eyes raked over her now exposed skin, drinking her in like a predator who had finally cornered his prey. His hands slid over her waist and up her ribs, his touch firm yet reverent as he explored every inch of her bare skin. She shivered under him, the mix of his overwhelming presence and Rafayel’s more measured touch creating a whirlwind of sensation that left her gasping.

“Look at you,” Sylus murmured, his voice thick with arousal as his lips brushed over the swell of her breast. He licked a slow teasing stripe over her skin, making her arch into him with a soft needy cry. His mouth trailed lower, his breath hot against her nipple before his tongue darted out to swirl around it. He groaned as she reacted, her fingers threading through his messy hair tugging gently.

“Beautiful,” Rafayel murmured, his voice soft but laced with hunger. He leaned over, his hair falling into  his face as he pressed a kiss to her jaw, then down the line of her throat. His hands moved with delicate precision, sliding over her thighs and spreading them to give her relief from the heat pooling between them. “You’re incredible, cutie. And you smell so good.”

Her body trembled as Rafayel’s fingers found the slick dripping down her inner thighs, his touch so gentle it almost felt teasing. Her scent spiked, and Sylus groaned into her skin, the sound vibrating against her chest. His hips rutted instinctively against her leg, the hard bulge in his pants pressing against her as he tried to hold himself back.

The sounds of Rafayel’s fingers in her soaked heat caused him to groan, “Raf, don’t tease her…” his crimson gaze meeting his Beta’s oceanic one, darkened now with his own desire.

Rafayel smirked slightly, his fingers brushing higher, just barely skimming where she needed him most. “I’m not teasing,” he said, his tone playful, “I’m just making sure she’s ready.”

“I’m ready,” she moaned when she shifted her hips towards his hand and his fingers slipped past her soaked folds.

“You’re so ready,” he murmured his voice in awe of just how slick she was. He pressed a kiss down her chest nipping at her breast, tongue teasing her nipple and sucking it gently, grunting softly. He licked her skin down to her stomach and groaned as he rubbed against the scent gland on her hip before kissing her thighs. Her head fell back into the nest of blankets as the sensations began to overwhelm her, Sylus’s hot mouth on her lips and chest, Rafayel’s skilled fingers working into her heat with precision that had her hips bucking against his hand. The combination of their touches was too much and not enough all at once, driving her higher and higher as her heat burned hotter.

Sylus growled as his rut clawed at him as he watched her come undone around Rafayel’s fingers. He couldn’t hold back any longer, his thick fingers replacing his in her liquid heat and groaning. “Fuck,” hissed, “so fucking perfect.”

Rafayel leaned up, capturing her lips in another searing kiss as his hand stroked along Sylus’s arm, grounding his Alpha even as he added to the intensity. Their movements were perfectly coordinated, their touches seamless as they pushed her close and closer to another edge.

“You’re doing so good, cutie..” Rafayel whispered against her skin, “let go for us.”

Sylus’s pace quickened, his fingers thrusting into her as the other hand gripped her hip, steadying her. He groaned as her walls clenched around him, his control slipping further with every sound she made.

“Cum for me, Kitten,” Sylus growled, his voice rough and commanding as his fingers curled into her and his thumb stroking the bud at the top of her sex.

Her body tightened like a rubber band and snapped a strangled cry escaped, and Rafayel soothed her with praise as she spiraled. Her body trembled and twitched as he thrust his fingers through her release, lips claiming hers, swallowing her moans greedily. Sylus pulled his fingers from her heat and brought them to his mouth, his eyes blown wide with lust.

“Ready?” Rafayel asked him.

“I’ve been ready,” he murmured as he leaned down to kiss her after quickly discarding his clothes, wanting nothing more than to be bare against her soft skin.

His skin was feverishly hot against hers as he pressed her back into the blankets, his now bare skin flush with hers. His muscles were taught beneath her fingers, every inch of him humming with primal need. Her hands slid up his chest, nails dragging lightly over the hard planes of muscle, and Sylus shuddered at the touch. His breath was uneven as he buried his face in the crook over her neck, his lips pressing to her scent gland. “Fuck, Kitten…” he groaned, inhaling deeply, his tongue darting out to taste her scent directly from the source.

“You won’t break her, Sylus,” Rafayel soothed him, kissing along his spine, his fingers kneading the muscles there, “Breed her,” he whispered, “can’t you see how bad she wants it.”

The encouragement wasn’t needed but Sylus let out a rough exhale, his hands gripping her thighs spreading them further apart. He could feel the heat radiating from her slick drenched core. He felt as if he’d lost his mind; perhaps he had.

“Kitten.” He rasped, "I need to—”

“Yes,” she interrupted, her fingers tangling into his hand pulling him to her. “Sylus, please...Alpha…” she breathed.

That was all it took for his rut to truly snap into place. Sylus shifted, lining himself up, his thick cock pressing against her dripping heat. He hesitated for a second, feeling just how wet she was then pushed in slowly. She felt the burn as he stretched her in the most delicious way while the omega purred for the first time that night.

“Fuck..” he snarled, his fingers bruising against her hips as he forced himself to go slow, to savor that feel of her wrapped around him. “So fucking tight…”

Rafayel watched with heavy lidded desire, his lips parted as his hands slid over his back, “There you go, my love,” he whispered against his shoulder as Sylus bottomed out inside her his entire cock sheathed. “She can take you.” it was almost a sentence of awe, how no other Omega had ever been able to take him fully seated without some maneuvering.

She whimpered beneath him, her back arching as the thick length filled her to the brim, their combined fluids seeping out of her aching heat. The fullness inside her sent a shock wave through her already overheated body. Her nails bit into his shoulders and he groaned at the sensation.

“More,” she begged, her voice broken.

Sylus didn’t need to be told twice.

He pulled out halfway before snapping his hips forward again, a filthy, wet sound filling the air as he buried himself to the hilt. She cried out, her hands clawing at him but he didn’t let up—his thrusts quickly building into a steady, punishing rhythm that had her gasping with every roll of his hips.

Rafayel’s fingers slid between them, too eager to include himself in the fun. He found her swollen clit, circling with expert precision. “That's it, cutie,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her open mouth as she panted, “You’re taking him so well, such a good omega,” he whispered into her mouth, swallowing her moans. They were his for the taking and he was ravenous.

Sylus growled against her throat, his teeth scraping against her scent gland. Marking in Alpha and Omega relationships was common, however, marking a scent gland was only done in very specific situations as it tied the alphas scent to the omegas. Bonding them. The fact that he was tempted at all was all too telling; they were a pheromone match and it had made them both delirious. Rafayel’s presence kept him grounded, kept him from completely losing himself in the mindless haze of his rut.

Rafayel chuckled, feeling the way Sylus was fighting himself, “You wanna bite her so bad…” he teased then nipped his ear lobe, kissed his shoulder and nipped it gently.

“Go ahead, she smells like she wants you to.”

Sylus groaned, his hips stuttering for a moment before he did bite—not hard enough to claim but enough to leave a deep possessive mark against her skin. She screamed as her entire body locked up as pleasure tore through her, her orgasm hitting like a freight train. Sylus cursed, feeling her tighten around him– he nearly lost it right then and there.

He slammed into her rough now, chasing his own release as her cries filled the room.

Rafayel kissed her through it, his fingers working her clit mercilessly, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until she was shuddering beneath them, boneless and wrecked.

Sylus’s growl deepened, his thrusts turning frantic as his knot started to swell,  attempting to lock him inside her, his body desperate to fill her completely. “Fuck, kitten, I—”

“Do it,” she gasped, wrapping her legs tighter around him, her eyes wild and glazed with heat. “Knot me.”

That was all he needed.

With a final, devastating thrust, Sylus buried himself as deep as he could go, his knot catching and locking them together as he came with a broken snarl, his entire body shaking as he emptied himself inside her.

Rafayel groaned at the sight, pressing kisses down Sylus’s back as he rode out his release, his Beta’s hands stroking over his skin soothingly.

“That’s it,” Rafayel murmured, kissing the back of Sylus’s neck before leaning down to kiss her lips softly. “You’re perfect, both of you.”

She moaned weakly into his kiss, her body still trembling, completely overwhelmed by the intensity of everything. Sylus panted against her neck, his grip on her thighs loosening as he started to come down, his mind hazy but content.

“Fuck,” Sylus finally breathed, his voice hoarse. “You’re incredible, kitten.”

Rafayel chuckled, pressing a final kiss to Sylus’s shoulder before reaching for the water bottle nearby. “She is,” he agreed, bringing the bottle to her lips, helping her drink. “But don’t think we’re done just yet.”

Her eyes fluttered open, her breath still shaky as she swallowed the water Rafayel offered her.

Sylus smirked, tilting her chin up with his fingers, his crimson eyes still dark with hunger.

“We’re just getting started.”

Rafayel smirked as he set the water bottle aside, his eyes flicking between them. Sylus was still pressed close to her, his knot keeping them locked together as he pulsed cum straight into her. He craved that feeling. He’d taken Sylus’s knot more than a few times and while his physiology wasn’t necessarily made for it; it felt good. He leaned over her and kissed her softly, “You’re so soft,” he whispered, leaving a path of warmth in the wake over his hands that stroked her skin.

“I can’t believe how good you smell,” he murmured.

She whined softly as Sylus shifted slightly, his breath warm against her throat as he let out a deep, contented growl. He was still stuck inside her, his knot keeping them connected as his cock pulsed inside her pushing more and more cum into her. Rafayel could tell by the way Sylus’s fingers twitched next to her hips that he was watching, waiting, hungry to see what would happen next.

Her expression was dazed, her lips still swollen from the desperate kisses between gasps and moans. He brushed his fingers along her jaw, tilting her face up before kissing her again, this time more slowly, more indulgently.

Unlike Sylus, Rafayel wasn’t in rut; biologically he couldn’t ever be. But something was still pulling him in, something deeper. He had never felt this way before, never had an Omega’s scent affect him quite like this. She was burrowing under his skin, her heat more intoxicating than anything he’d ever encountered.

It wasn’t just biological—it was profound.

And it was making her feel it too.

She moaned into his mouth, her body arching toward him instinctively. Sylus groaned at the movement, but he didn’t complain. If anything, he seemed amused. “You’re already reaching for him, kitten?” he murmured, pressing lazy kisses along her shoulder, still dazed from his ongoing climax. “That desperate already?”

“Yes,” she gasped into Rafayel’s mouth where his tongue met hers in a frenzied but passionate kiss. Her fingers curling into his hair tugging him close.

Rafayel chuckled against her lips, but the sound was strained, his own control fraying. He wasn’t usually the type to rush things—Sylus was the one driven by instinct, by sheer force—but right now, he wanted her just as badly. He cupped her cheek and moaned into her mouth guiding her hand gently to the band of his sweats, she didn’t need to be told twice. Her hand moved down his abdomen and into his pants, finally finding what she was looking for, her hand wrapping around a hot and thick cock that was sticky in her palm. She stroked him slowly and he groaned into her mouth, his hips rutting up into her hand.

They stayed like this for sometime, waiting for the swell of their Alpha’s knot to go down.

Sylus’s purring rumbled through her as he lazily nuzzled into the crook of her neck, his nose brushing that scent gland that he desperately wanted to mark. His satisfaction radiated from every breathy exhale, the slow aftershocks of his climax still making him twitch inside her. Yet, even through the lingering haze of his rut, he was watching—his crimson gaze flicking between her and Rafayel with curiosity and hunger.

Rafayel groaned into her mouth, his hips jerking slightly into her hand as she stroked him, her fingers slick with his arousal. His body was burning for her, craving the warmth and wetness he could feel against his fingertips as they trailed over her stomach.

“You’re trouble, cutie,” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with amusement and lust. “Can’t even wait for your Alpha’s knot to go down before you start making a mess of me too.”

She whimpered softly, giving him another slow, teasing stroke. “Don’t act like you don’t want it,” she whispered, licking into his mouth, her heat still burning hot inside her, still pushing her toward more, more, more.

Sylus chuckled against her throat, his fingers tracing lazy circles over her thigh. “Raf’s the patient one, Kitten,” he mused, his voice a slow, sultry drawl. “But you keep touching him like that? He’s going to lose all that careful control.”

And he was losing it. Rafayel’s breath hitched as she twisted her wrist just right, making his cock jerk in her palm. His eyes darkened, his usual playful, easy going demeanor starting to unravel. It was then that she felt the knot slowly shrink and Sylus popped free from her a mess of slick and cum dripping out of her making her whimper.

“Turn over,” Rafayel murmured, voice husky as he pulled back slightly, watching her reaction.

She shivered at the command and whined at the loss of Sylus inside her, the underlying authority in his tone sending a jolt of arousal straight through her. The moment she could bring herself to, she did as Rafayel asked, rolling onto her stomach—her cheek pressed into the blankets of her nest.

“Good girl,” Rafayel praised, his large hands sliding down her back, his fingers kneading into the muscles there. He took his time, trailing his lips along her shoulder blades, soothing her with soft kisses, gentle licks.

Sylus shifted beside them, propping himself up to watch his eyes still hazed over for the time being—they all knew it wouldn’t last. “You going to give her what she wants, baby?” he asked him, his voice dripping with lazy satisfaction but his eyes burned with interest.

Rafayel smirked as he kissed down her spine, stopping at the curve of her ass. His fingers spread her open slightly, his breath hot against her dripping cunt. “She smells like you,” he whispered, voice full of reverence. “Still so needy.”

She gasped as he licked a slow, broad stripe over her slick folds, his tongue teasing her clit before delving deeper.

“Oh fuck,” she whimpered, her body trembling as his tongue worked her open, lapping at the mixture of her and Sylus like he was starving for it.

Sylus groaned, gripping her hair and turning her head just enough to kiss her. It was deep and filthy, his tongue dominating her mouth as Rafayel devoured her from behind.

“Look at you,” he murmured between kisses, his fingers lightly tugging at her scalp. “So perfect like this—taking everything we give you.”

Rafayel hummed against her core, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure through her limbs. His hands kneaded at her thighs, holding her open for him as he worked her with practiced precision.

“Raf...please,” she begged, her body tensing as the pleasure built higher and higher, “I need—”

Placing one last lick on her clit before pulling back, “I know what you need, cutie,” his voice was raspy and low. He pulled his sweats off and kicked them away as he positioned himself behind her, his cock pressing against her entrance.

Sylus grabbed her chin, making her look at him. “You ready for him, kitten?” he asked as his eyes searched hers.

“Yes,” she moaned, pushing her hips back, desperate for more.

He groaned as he pushed inside, his breath hitching at the tight, slight heat that immediately wrapped around him. “Oh fuck,” he growled, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he buried himself to the hilt.

She cried out at the stretch, the fullness, her body overwhelmed but craving every second of it.

“That’s it,” Rafayel groaned, pulling out just enough before slamming back in, his rhythm immediately rougher than before, fueled by need. “You feel..so fucking good.”

Sylus smirked, kissing her deeply, his fingers playing with her nipples as he watched Rafayel claim her—he admired the look of desperation on the man's face, his eyes trailing down the expanse of his chest. He felt his own cock twitching but he had more self control than that. At least for now.

Rafayel’s pace was fast, his body moving like he was made for this—like he was made for her. Every thrust sent shock waves through her already overstimulated body, and she could feel her release creeping closer, creeping up her spine.

“Close…” she gasped, gripping the blankets in her fists as her pleasure overwhelmed her senses.

“Cum for me, cutie,” Rafayel growled, one hand slipping beneath her to rub tight, teasing circles over her clit. “Wanna feel you come all over my cock.”

Unlike anything she ever experienced before, her body obeyed instantly. Pleasure crashing over her like a tidal wave, her vision going white as she sobbed through her release. Rafayel groaned as she clenched around him, his pace stuttering as he chased his own climax. “Fuck...fuck—”

He thrust deep one final time before spilling inside her, his body trembling as he came with a low, shuddering groan. His hands held her tightly, his lips pressing kisses onto her shoulder, his body still moving in slow, lazy rolls, riding out every last wave of pleasure.

Sylus hummed in approval, stroking her hair as he kissed her temple. “Told you, kitten,” he murmured softly and lifted a bottle of water to her mouth.

“Drink,” it wasn’t him asking, it was a command. For several minutes he made her drink a little water every time she let out a small sigh, she was contented but he could tell she was falling into a slumber she likely wouldn’t wake from till morning.

He sighed as her breathing evened out, her body finally surrendering to the exhaustion of her heat and the sheer intensity of what they had done to her. He brushed his fingers gently over her damp hair, his touch softer now, reverent. She was still working, slick between her thighs but her body was too spent to ask for more—for now.

“She’s out,” Rafayel murmured softly, his voice quiet in the dim light of the room. His hands stroked down her back absentmindedly, his fingers pressing slow, grounding circles into her skin. “She fought it, but I knew she wouldn’t last much longer.”

Sylus hummed in agreement, he studied her peaceful expression, the way her body remained pliant between them, trusting. He had never felt this settled before. His rut was satisfied for now—but his instincts weren’t screaming at him to get up, to pace, to search another fight or fuck. His Omega was here, their Omega, and something about that made his entire body relax in a way he hadn’t realized he needed.

“She’s not just some random match,” Sylus muttered, almost to himself. His fingers trailed over the possessive marks he’d left along her throat, and shoulders, lingering at the deep imprint of his teeth he had left over her scent gland. Not enough to bond her, but...fuck, he had wanted to.

Rafayel watched him carefully, his eyes dark with thought. “No,” he agreed after a long moment, pressing a kiss to her temple. “She’s not.”

Sylus let out a slow breath. “This heat felt different.”

Shifting closer, his bare chest pressing against Sylus’s side, his lips trailed over his shoulder in lazy, absent minded kisses. “Yeah… It’s her, she’s different. It’s not just the heat making us feel this way.”

Turning his head Sylus catches Rafayel’s mouth in a kiss, slow and unhurried. It was messy, deep, their tongues sliding together as Sylus tangled his fingers in the soft waves of Rafayel’s plum hair. The beta groaned softly, pressing closer, letting Sylus pull him deeper into the warmth of the nest.

A soft chuckle escaped the Beta, “You’re still wired.”

Chuckling, Sylus shifting slightly, his cock already half hard again, pressing against Rafayel’s thigh. “Can you blame me?”

Rafayel rolled his eyes fondly, sliding a hand down his chest, over the taught muscles of his stomach, before gripping him loosely, stroking him just enough to make his breath hitch. “Poor alpha,” he teased, “Still needy, even after all that.”

Sylus growled, his patience snapping as he rolled Rafayel onto his back, pinning to the nest beneath him. His eyes gleamed as he pressed his weight against him, grinding against his stomach, their cocks flush.

“You knew what you were doing, teasing me like that,” Sylus muttered, dragging his teeth over Rafayel’s jaw before kissing him hard. “You love getting me worked up.”

Rafayel moaned, arching into him, his own cock twitching. “Maybe,”

Grabbing his wrists, Sylus pinned them above his head as he used the slick coming off his own cock to prepare him as he lined himself up. His breath ragged—he didn’t waste time—he couldn’t. Rafayel’s teasing, his scent, her scent, the way his lips were already swollen from their earlier kisses. It was too much.

He pushed inside slowly with a deep shuddering groan, feeling Rafayel stretch around him

Gasping, Rafayel’s eyes rolled back slightly. “F-fuck—”

Sylus didn’t start slow. He didn’t want to be slow. His body was still humming with need to take, to own and Rafayel knew that—wanted that. Sylus fucked into him with sloppy, desperate thrusts, his grip bruising on his hips as he chased the heat pooling in his gut.

Rafayel loved this, loved the way Sylus lost himself in him, fucked him like he was the only thing keeping him from going feral. His moans were breathy, punched out of him with every snap of his lover's hips, his body pliant, open.

Sylus growled against his throat, licking over his scent gland, tasting the sweat and heat on his skin. He wasn’t an Omega, but Sylus still wanted to mark him, to claim him in a way words couldn’t define. His rut was far from over, tamed for now by her slickness, but his instincts still roared for this, for them, for her sleeping beside them.

“Say you’re mine,” Sylus snarled against his jaw, his thrusts becoming erratic, rougher, sloppier.

He moaned, wrapping his legs around Sylus’s waist, his fingers digging into his back. “I’m yours,” he gasped, his nails scraping down his spine. “Yours, Sylus.”

A strangled groan escaped Sylus, his teeth clamping down onto Rafayel’s shoulder, enough to claim. Rafayel cried out, his entire body tensing, his cock jerking between them as he came, his release smearing between their stomachs.

Sylus wasn’t far behind. With a final, broken growl, he slammed deep into Rafayel one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his knot swelled, locking him inside. His body shook with the force of it, his cum spilling deep inside his Beta as he collapsed over him, panting against his throat, laving at the bite mark he’d placed there.

They stayed like that for a long moment, their bodies tangled, sweat cooling on their skin.

Then, Sylus shifted, his knot popping from Rafayel’s tender hole, grimacing softly. He rolled onto his side and pulled him against him, kissing him softly. “You okay?”

Rafayel chuckled breathlessly, “I think you broke me.”

Sylus snorted fondly, nuzzling into his hair, pressing a lazy kiss against his forehead. “You love it.”

“Yeah,” Rafayel admitted, sighing contentedly as he melted into Sylus’s warmth. “I do.”

They both turned their heads toward the Omega sleeping soundly beside them.

“She’s out,” Sylus murmured, his voice quieter now, more certain.

He nodded, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Yeah,” he whispered, “she is.”

And this time, there was no doubt.

The next time she stirred, it was to the feeling of gentle fingers running through her hair and the distant sound of running water. The room was still warm, the heavy scent of heat and sex lingering in the air, but the haze in her mind had softened, the worst of her exhausting ebbing away.

“You awake, cutie?” Rafayel’s voice was soft, soothing, his fingers still stroking over her scalp. She let out a soft hum in response, nuzzling into the blankets, her body sore but pleasantly so.

Rafayel chuckled, shifting closer to press a kiss to her temple. “Come on,” he murmured, his voice dipped in fond amusement. “Let's get you cleaned up before you pass out again.”

She made a noise of protest, but before she could burrow deeper into the nest that smelt of them, strong arms slipped under her, lifting her with ease.

“You’re so dramatic,” she mumbled against his chest, too tired to put any real bite behind it.

“I know,” he replied with a grin, carrying her toward the bathroom, his ocean eyes gleaming happily. “But you love it.”

She would have rolled her eyes if she wasn’t so damn tired. Instead, she let herself relax into his warmth, her limbs heavy and pliant as he brought her into the steamy bathroom. The shower was already running, warm mist curling around them, filling the air with the scent of clean soap. Rafayel eased her down carefully, helping her step under the spray, his hands never leaving her skin.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, more serious.

She nodded, blinking up at him. “Yeah,” she murmured, feeling the water wash over her, easing away the sweat and stickiness of the night before. “Just….tired.”

“Figured,” he smirked, stepping into the shower behind her, running his hands over her shoulders, working the tension from her muscles. “You were a little busy, after all.”

Heat flooded her cheeks, but before she could retort, Rafayel’s fingers worked over her scalp lathering in the shampoo with slow careful strokes. The sensation sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine, and she let out an involuntary sigh, her body sinking further into him.

He chuckled, “that good?”

She hummed in response, tilting her head into his touch, the intimacy of it making her chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with her heat. Rafayel had been so careful with her, so steady. His hands worked over her like she was something precious, something to be careful of.

She wasn’t used to that.

“Let me take care of you, cutie, “he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Just relax.”

So she did.

By the time they emerged from the shower, she felt lighter, more grounded, the sharpest edge of her heat dulled—at least for now. The scent of food hit her first, something warm and savory drifting through the apartment.

“You cooked?” she asked, her voice still a little rough from sleep as she leaned against the doorway.

Sylus, who was standing by the stove, shot her a smirk over his shoulder. He was wearing nothing but a pair of loose sweats, his messy white hair still damp from a shower of his own. “Raf cooked, “he corrected, “I just taste tested.”

She snorted, moving to sit at the counter, her body still feeling a little too loose and content to argue. Rafayel slid a plate in front of her—an omelet with onions, peppers, salmon and cheese. On the side, he had cut up some fruit and put it in a bowl with some granola. Simple, but it made her stomach growl on sight.

“Eat,” Rafayel said, nudging a fork toward her. “You need it.”

She obeyed, shoving a bite into her mouth. It was good—perfectly seasoned and warm, filling.

Sylus leaned against the counter, arms crossed as he watched her eat with an amused expression. “Guess she was hungry,” he mused.

“Told you,” the other replied.

Despite the teasing, something warm settled in her chest as she ate. This—whatever this was—felt natural. Comfortable.

And the way they were both looking at her, it made her heat start to rise all over again.

She didn’t mean to end up on her knees in her nest, but somehow, it’s exactly where she was. Rafayel was beside her, his eyes gleaming with playful competition as they both pressed closer to Sylus, who was now leaning back against the blankets, half-hard already from the way she and Rafayel had been teasing him.

“Think we can make him lose that famous control of his?” Rafayel mused, his lips brushing against her ear as his fingers traced over her thigh.

She smirked, eyes locked on Sylus’s already darkening gaze. “I think we can.”

Sylus scoffed, but there was a tightness to his jaw, his hands clenching at his sides like he was waiting for them to move. “You two are ridiculous.”

Rafayel grinned, reaching to wrap his hand around his cock, stroking him slowly, teasingly. “You love it.”

Sylus growled lowly, his hips jerking slightly into his hand, his eyes narrowing. “Shut up and use that pretty mouth of yours.”

Rafayel laughed, but he obeyed, leaning down to press a slow, wet kiss to the top of Sylus’s cock before licking a long and teasing stripe up the length of him.

She followed his lead, mirroring his movements on the other side, their tongues brushing against each other as they worked Sylus in tandem. The groan that tore from his throat was filthy, his head tilting back against the blankets, his muscles tensing beneath them.

“Fuck,” Sylus hissed, his fingers threading into Rafayel’s hair, then into hers, tugging just enough to make her whimper.

Rafayel shot her a smirk. “Watch closely, cutie,” he murmured before taking Sylus into his mouth, his lips stretching around his length, his throat relaxing effortlessly. She swallowed, heat pooling low in her stomach at the sight.

“Use your tongue,” he instructed, pulling back slightly, his hand still stroking the base of Sylus’s cock. "Like this.”

She followed his lead, dragging her tongue slowly around the tip, teasing just like Rafayel had. Sylus groaned, his grip on her hair tightening.

“Good girl,” Rafayel praised, shooting her a wicked grin before going down again, his mouth hollowing around Sylus as he sucked.

She followed, their movements synchronized, teasing, drawing ragged curses and groans from Sylus as his restraint started to crack. Their mouths and tongues each covering one side of his cock up and down his length soft whimpers from them both at his heady scent as their tongues touched in a partial kiss around his cock.

When he finally broke, he grabbed their heads and fucked up between their mouths with a desperate growl.

Sylus snapped. His grip in their hair was firm, controlling, as he fucked up between their mouths his cock slick with their spit, their tongues working together to drive him over the edge. His growls filled the air, ragged and demanding. His control shattered completely as his thick length twitched.

“Fucking—fuck,” Sylus panted, his head tilting back against the pillows, his muscles tensing as he used them, barely able to decide which one he wanted more.

She moaned as she felt Rafayel’s tongue meet hers as they lapped at his cock eagerly. Rafayel let out a breathy chuckle around his cock. It was filthy, and hot as they shared the taste of him.

Sylus’s breath hitched, his grip tightening and then with a sharp groan he came his cock twitching as ropes of thick cum landed on their mouths and face. They worked together to swallow down what he gave them, licking at him, cleaning him up with soft, slow drags of their tongues until his body sagged into the nest.

He looked wrecked.

But not done.

His crimson eyes flickered open, hazy, dark with the need still lingering in his gut. His rut was still there, but her heat-- the scent of it, the feel of it clinging in the air, still rising—was pulling him back under.

His growl was low, warning, as he grabbed her wrist, tugging her up onto his lap. His lips crashed against hers. His tongue sweeping into her mouth, tasting himself on her, his hands slid over her skin, nails biting into her hips.

“You want me again, kitten?” he murmured against her lips, his voice teasing, “can smell it on your-fuck-your heats kicking back up isn’t it?”

She whimpered, nodding, rocking her hips against him, already desperate for him again. Rafayel hummed, licking his lips as he sat back on his heels, watching. “Guess she can’t help it,” he mused, fingers trailing over her spine. “She’s an Omega. She needs you, Sylus.”

A groan pulled from him, his cock already hardening under her, “Fuck, you’re right.”

And then he was flipping her, pressing her down onto the nest, his body covering hers, his hands gripping her thighs as he spread her open beneath him. She gasped, her body arching, and then he was inside her, hot and deep, stretching her all over again.

He didn’t start slow this time. He couldn’t.

Sylus slammed into her, his growl vibrating against her throat as he fucked her rough and deep, chasing the heat, the primal, instinctive need to fill her, to breed her.

“Fuck, kitten,” he panted, his hands gripped her waist, holding her still as he ruined her. “Feel so fucking good—can’t get enough of you—”

She sobbed his name, her body burning, her nerves on fire, her slick dripping onto the blankets. She could feel her orgasm creeping closer, every hard thrust pushing her further into it, making her whimper, making her beg. Sylus groaned, his pace stuttering as his knot began to swell again, one thrust, two thrusts, three and he groaned as it caught the fourth time.

“I got you, kitten,” he growled, “gonna fill you.”

“Yes,” she sobbed, her nails dragging down his back, “Please, Sylus—“

His cock stayed in her, stuck as he filled her with rope after rope of cum. Grinding deep as he spilled, her body opening up for him. She came with a broken cry, her walls clenching down and milking him, making him snarl into her throat. Tempted once again to mark her and make her officially theirs.

For a long moment, they just breathed, tangled in each other, the aftermath still humming in the air. When he slipped from her the sound of his cock slipping out of her soaked pussy made him groan.

Then, Sylus turned his head, eyes landing on Rafayel, his rut in full force now.

A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips.

“You look like you’re waiting for something,” Sylus drawled, his voice rough but teasing.

Rafayel huffed out a laugh, stretching out beside them, his own cock hard and aching between his legs. “You are good at reading me.”

Sylus grinned, “get between her legs.”

Rafayel’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening, but he obeyed. “Fuck, she’s soaked,” he whispered, his tongue darting out to taste her, his voice reverent.

Sylus chuckled as he moved behind Rafayel and lifted his hips up so he was on his knees, bent over with his mouth on her cunt. “Lick her clean,” Sylus commanded, his voice edged with something dark and possessive.

Rafayel didn’t hesitate.

His mouth latched on to her, licking deep, drinking from her, his tongue slipping inside, tasting both her slick and Sylus’s cum as he moaned against her.

The action had him feeling drunk, surrounded by their scent, his own cock twitching in anticipation. She cried out, her entire body shaking, the over stimulation nearly too much.

And then, Sylus was behind him. Strong hands gripping his hips, dragging him back. Rafayel groaned, his tongue still buried in her as Sylus used his cum soaked fingers to ready him for his cock. One finger, then two, then he pressed the head of his length to the opening before pushing inside in a single thrust.

“Fuck,” Rafayel sobbed against her, his whole body shuddering.

Sylus growled, his grip bruising as he fucked into him, his pace immediately unforgiving. Her moans, their moans all echoing off the walls of her room. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him tighter against her.

“Good boy,” Sylus purred, his breath hot against his spine as he fucked into him with deep short thrusts. “Just like that,” he whispered, and they all came together.

It was too much. It was perfect.

And none of them wanted it to stop.

The aftermath was a slow, breathless tangle of limbs, bodies collapsing into the nest, still warm and slick with sweat and release. Their bodies were exhausted but sated—for now. The room was thick with the scent of sex… of them. A scent that had become something familiar, something that felt like home.

Rafayel was the first to move, rolling onto his back, his chest still rising and falling in uneven breaths. A lazy, satisfied smile tugged at his lips as he turned to look at them.

“Well,” he murmured, his voice rough, “that was...something.”

She huffed out a breathless laugh, curling instinctively into Sylus’s side, pressing her face against his chest. “That's one way to put it.”

Sylus chuckled, his arm tightening around her, pulling Rafayel closer with the other, sandwiching them between his warmth. His fingers idly stroked over her back, then up into Rafayel’s damp, tangled hair, smoothing it out as he kissed his temple.

“Don’t think you’re getting rid of me now,” Sylus murmured, his tone teasing but laced with something deeper, something real.

Rafayel sighed contentedly, nuzzling into his Alpha’s touch. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She swallowed, tilting her head up to look at them both. There was an understanding between them, something unsaid but deeply felt.

This wasn’t just a heat arrangement.

This wasn’t just Sylus scratching the itch of his rut.

This was more.

And it terrified her—but it also settled something deep inside her, something she hadn’t even realized had been so restless before.

The desire for a family.

Sylus must have sensed the hesitation in her, because he cupped her cheek, tilting her face toward him, focused. “Kitten,” he murmured, his thumb stroking her skin. “Tell me what's going on in that pretty head of yours.”

She hesitated, then let out a small, shaky laugh. “I guess, I just...didn’t expect this.”

Rafayel shifted, propping himself up on one elbow, watching her closely. “Expected what?”

“This,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, “to want this, to want you, both of you.”

Sylus’s grip tightened slightly, like he was afraid she might slip away. “You do want this,” he said, and it wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

She exhaled slowly, her body still aching, still sensitive—but there was no denying the truth of it. She nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

His entire body relaxed as he pulled her in again, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. “Good.” he murmured against her skin. “Because I’m not fucking letting you go.”

Rafayel chuckled, rolling onto his stomach so he could drape himself over both of them. “Possessive.” he teased, “typical alpha behavior.”

Sylus shot him a flat look. “Shut up, you love it.”

Rafayel smirked, but there was nothing but fondness in his gaze. “I do.”

She felt warmth spreading through her chest as she relaxed into them, letting their scents surround her, wrap around her like something safe.

“We don’t have to define anything right now,” Rafayel murmured after a moment, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles over her hip. “We don’t have to rush it, but we do have to acknowledge it.”

Sylus made a small disgruntled noise. “I already know what I want.” His voice was firm, unwavering. “I want you, both of you. And I will make you mine.”

There was no room for argument in his tone.

And neither of them wanted to argue anyway.

Rafayel smirked, leaning in to kiss him softly, “Yeah?” he murmured against his lips. “That's a promise, Alpha?”

Sylus growled, nipping at his bottom lip before kissing him again, slow and deep. “Damn right it is.”

She watched them, her heart swelling in her chest. This felt right. It felt good. It felt real.

For the first time in a long time she wasn’t afraid of it. She smiled, pressing a kiss to Sylus’s shoulder then to Rafayel’s cheek before settling between them. Their warmth cocooned her completely. “We’ll figure It out,” she murmured.

Sylus grunted, already half-asleep, his grip on them protective. “Damn right, we will.”

And as they drifted off, tangled in each other there were no doubts in any of their minds.

This was theirs.

And none of them were letting go.

[vettelsvee]

Hello! I hope this is the correct way to request..., can you write a lewis story for prompt 28? It can be something like, reader is a new wag and there is some online hate, and lewis comforts them. It's completely fine if you don't wanna do this story, Thank you!! 💞

DON'T LET THEM SAY THAT. YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL | Lewis Hamilton

Lewis Hamilton x Actress!Reader

SUMMARY: Lewis and you decided to make your relationship public in Maranello before 2025 Formula 1 season starts. However, love from fans isn't there as you expected ↳ REQUESTED: Part of VEE'S F1 PROMPTS LIST (VOL. I)! Feel free to request anything you want <3 Hope you liked it anon! 💖

WORD COUNT: 2043

WARNINGS: Age gap (reader is on her early 20s and Lewis is 40), fans acting like crazy, hate towards Y/N

VEE'S NOTES: I received this prompt on the inbox today and I don't know how I wrote, corrected, translated and corrected once again it today. Also, first ever Ferrari!Lewis fic I'm so emotional right now. Not really happy with the result since like Y/N in this fic, I have many intrusive thoughts about my writing and I didn't have the best of the weekends, but hope you enjoy it anyways! Remember that I appreciate your comments, feedback, as well as reblogs, thank you so much! :)

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

The whirlwind of emotions you’ve experienced since your relationship with Lewis Hamilton became public has been unimaginable... and that’s putting it lightly.  

Although you were somewhat used to the spotlight thanks to your rising career as an actress, flashes from cameras, crowds shouting for you to turn around so they could get a picture, and the occasional fan asking for a photo or autograph, the world of Formula 1 was completely new to you.  

You couldn’t deny that you were unhappy with how drastically your life had changed. The man who had just joined Scuderia Ferrari had become everything you had ever imagined in a partner. kind, undeniably caring, and, most importantly, empathetic enough to understand how overwhelming this sudden rise in fame was for you.  

Lewis had noticed how down you’d been ever since he decided to post those photos of you both in Maranello. You had both agreed to go together so he could test one of those legendary red cars for the first time, fully aware that people would inevitably start talking. That day, you decided to make your relationship public after keeping it a secret for about six months, agreeing that it was best to do so before the 2025 season began.  

Despite it all, despite how much you had started closing yourself off in the following weeks, Lewis remained by your side, making you feel like the most important person in the world. But it was becoming increasingly difficult for him, especially when all you did was act like everything was fine on the outside while you were slowly destroying yourself inside.  

The nightmare began with small comments on the photo Lewis had uploaded to Instagram, just you, posing timidly in front of the Ferrari while he held you around the waist, smiling like never before. At first, the comments didn’t seem like a big deal, with people just wanting to know more about your relationship or if it was serious. But soon, the messages started pouring in, insults and threats far worse than you had ever imagined, many of them coming from underage girls. Eventually, you had to disable comments on every single one of your photos, no matter how old they were.

However, what truly became a living nightmare for you were the Twitter threads and, especially, the accounts dedicated exclusively to Formula 1 wags. They were relentless, tearing you apart, analyzing your every move as if dating one of the 20 drivers on the grid was equivalent to committing first-degree murder.

“She’s just looking for fame now that her acting career is taking off.”

“She doesn’t deserve someone like Lewis.”

“She’s too young for him.”

“And let’s not even talk about how ugly she is… have you seen her?”

You sighed, throwing your phone onto the couch with such force that it ended up crashing onto the floor. But you didn’t even bother to check if it was broken. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t read any more comments, wouldn’t even open your Instagram account, yet you couldn’t resist. After all, you were human, and the weight of it all was becoming too much to bear, even more than you were willing to admit to Lewis, to whom you hadn’t fully opened up yet.

The hotel room in Tokyo, where you and Lewis had decided to stay for one of your last vacations before the season began, fell into complete silence. The only sound that filled the space was your muffled sobs.

“And who even is she? Nobody knows her.”

“Lewis deserves someone better, that’s for sure.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away.

You couldn’t understand it. It felt so unfair... Why were you being treated this way just for loving someone? Why did people throw venomous words at you without even knowing you, without even trying to? Did being a fan of Lewis automatically mean they had to hate you?

You tried to relax, to break free from the spiral of thoughts that only led you to overthink, but it was impossible. Once your mind started down that path, the only thing it knew how to do was tear you apart from the inside.

As you tried to steady your breathing and quickly wiped away your tears, a knock echoed at the door.

You pulled yourself together as fast as you could, forcing a smile while glancing at your reflection in the mirror. You swore to yourself that you’d do everything possible to pretend that everything was fine, that you were fine.

But the moment you opened the door and saw Lewis, drenched in sweat from his gym session and pulling out his earbuds, you immediately turned around and rushed into the nearest room, the bathroom, locking yourself inside to keep him from seeing you like this.

“Come on, Y/N...”

Lewis knew you too well by now. No matter how hard you tried to convince him otherwise, he could see right through you, he knew you were struggling, and struggling pretty badly.

He didn’t do anything at first. He didn’t know what to do. He was afraid that whatever he said or did might only make things worse, might make you shut down even more. Instead, he rested his forehead against the closed door, feeling defeated, thinking of ways to make you feel worthy enough to stop torturing yourself over what strangers were saying online, people who knew nothing about your relationship and even less about you.

Eventually, you decided to come out. Lewis saw you, completely defeated, and he cursed himself for letting things get to this point. What had he done wrong to make you feel this way? God, you were just a girl in your early twenties who had recently made the leap to Hollywood stardom after moving to Los Angeles at sixteen, waiting tables in a run-down bar, and facing countless failed auditions until you finally landed the role that changed everything.

“Hey, love,” Lewis spoke as gently as possible, his eyes scanning your red-rimmed ones and your tangled hair. “What’s wrong?”

He knew exactly what was wrong, but he wanted you to be the one to speak, to let it all out.

You took a deep breath and pointed at your phone, still lying on the floor. A nervous knot tightened in your stomach, and your hands began to fidget anxiously. As if on cue, tears started streaming down your face once more.

“I just… I don’t understand why they have to be like this. What did I do to deserve this? Am I not good enough? Not pretty enough for you?”

Lewis sighed. He had known from the beginning that not everyone would accept your relationship, but the amount of hate you were facing was beyond excessive. He was exhausted by the senseless comments and social media accounts created solely to spew hate at you. And even more, he was tired of becoming tabloid fodder, followed everywhere by paparazzi eager to capture any moment they could.

Seeing you like this hurt him in ways he couldn’t even describe, and it made him feel miserable.

“Hey, Y/N… look at me.”

Despite speaking to you firmly and holding your hand, gently rubbing your skin with his thumb to calm you down, you didn’t respond. Lewis then cupped your chin delicately, forcing you to look at him.

“I know I’ve told you this a thousand times, and I also know that with how stubborn you are, you probably won’t listen to me, but don’t let what they say about you bother you,” he wanted to say, but all he really cared about was you. “What matters is that I love you, okay?”

“But... why does it have to affect me? Why did I used to not care about anything, and now I care so much about the opinion of strangers?” you asked, hesitantly, biting your lip in an attempt to relax.

Lewis moved even closer to you, wrapping his arms around you. He hated seeing you like this, especially when before all of this started, you were a light in his life, and it was him who used to lean on you when race weekends got overwhelming.

“Because you’re human, babe,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead and holding you tighter. “Even though we sometimes say the opposite, we all care about what others think of us, especially when all they want to do is bring us down.”

“But... what if they’re right? What if I’m not what you deserve?”

“Do I need to remind you again that they’re wrong?” Lewis said, pulling you slightly away so your gazes met. “You need to remember how much you mean to me, but more than that, you need to remember who you are and all that you’re worth. That’s all that matters.”

You didn’t say anything else. Instead, you buried your face in his chest, once again crying quietly to avoid him seeing you like this.

“I’m ugly, Lew. Really ugly,” you confessed without lifting your head. “I don’t even know how you love me, or how you agreed to be with me after all those months we spent talking and hanging out as friends, or…”

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t let them say that. You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful, and you’ve always been, alright? Anyone who says otherwise needs to get their eyes checked.”

You laughed, and Lewis felt that as a small victory.

You closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself down. For the first time in a long while, you pushed aside the intrusive thoughts, the destructive comments you saw daily on social media, and allowed yourself the luxury of, for just a moment, trying to stop torturing yourself and accepting that there were things you couldn’t change.

Lewis’s words, while brief and somewhat familiar to you, brought a peace you hadn’t felt in days. You did your best to let the tension in your shoulders melt away, slowly separating from him and moving your arms bit by bit.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Lew,” you whispered, once again wrapping your arms around his waist, wishing you could never let go of him.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Lewis chuckled, planting kisses on your forehead. “I’m never going to leave you, and I hope you’ll never leave me either.”

Neither of you said anything more. Your bodies remained close, exchanging shy kisses, making promises that everything would get better as you both talked about the changes you’d face in 2025. That was enough for you both to know things were going to be okay.

You both understood that the big, risky changes you were taking, especially your relationship, were going to be difficult, just like what was happening with you and the wave of hate you were receiving. But once you stopped giving it too much importance, or rather, no importance at all, no one would stop you as the newest couple in Formula 1.

“Hey, listen to me, please... I’ve been thinking about something.”

Lewis’s words caught your attention as you were starting to drift off to sleep in bed. You straightened up, your hand still intertwined with his.

“How about we take a walk, and you can get to know the city a bit?” he suggested. “You know… we could go eat out, hit up an arcade, or maybe…”

“Can you get me a stuffed animal from one of those weird claw machines?!” you interrupted him, excited, which made Lewis burst out laughing.

“Of course, I can get you a stuffed animal, or buy you all the ones you want.”

You smiled, and as Lewis went to the bathroom for a shower, you began to prepare for the day. That moment was exactly when you realized you needed to trust yourself more and, specially, just as Lewis valued you. Because if there was one thing you’d learned from him in the short time you’d been together, it was that, no matter what you did, you’d always be the envy of others, so you just needed to remind yourself that you didn’t need to feel worse for living the life you’d always dreamed of and, moreover, you worked hard to have.

[venomvalley]

Do you accept requests? If so, I thought of a fic where Sevika teaches the reader how to play that card game she plays so much, and then the reader ends up getting addicted and keeps begging Sevika to play with her

TWO OF A KIND

sevika x fem!reader | 2.6k words

TAGS: mentions of drinking and smoking. this is actually cute

NOTES: im so obsessed with this request u have no idea thank u !!!! btw i have no idea how the card game works so uh

“No, not that one. This one.”

You're ready to flip the damn table, cards and coins and all. With her lack of patience and her proficiency at the game, Sevika proves time and time again to be a horrible teacher. Especially when there's real money on the line.

You fight against the arm slung around your waist to turn and glare at her, the lights of The Last Drop bathing her in soft, orange-toned shadows. “Sev, you just said that these two make a pair.”

“Save those for when you have a better hand. Your cards are shit right now.”

The man across from you, rosy-cheeked and burly, exhales a wheezing laugh. One of many bar regulars that she often plays with, empathetic to your newborn-gambling plight. “Aw, cut the poor woman some slack. She's learning.”

“Well, she needs to learn faster.” At the smack you give to her thigh, she peers down at you, plush lips stretching into a grin. Teasing.

"One of these days, I'll beat you. Mark my words."

Another one of the men leans forward with a toothy grin, canine freshly missing after that fight in the alley last week. "Let's bet on it."

Sevika shakes her head as a cheer echoes around the table. "No. No betting. She's cost me enough money already."

You fidget in her lap as the men grow rowdy, slapping the table with each chant of BET! BET! BET! BET!

"Sevika's just scared I'll win," you yell over the chaos, drink sloshing over the rim of your glass and onto your pants as the man to your left jostles your shoulder in excitement, shoving you a bit too far. If not for the arm around your waist, you would've sprawled out onto the floor.

It doesn't scare you, but it startles you. Makes you gasp in surprise—

The air ices over when a prosthetic hand clamps around his wrist, and he hisses a pained breath through his teeth but doesn't attempt to pull away.

You tap her on the shoulder, cards bent between your fingers, explaining to her that you’re fine to no avail—it’s about the principle. The other men lean away from the building chaos, glancing back and forth between each other.

Well. Game's over.

"What's the number one rule when she," a nod of her head to you, "plays with us?"

He gulps, eyes flickering down to where she holds him. "No touching."

"Exactly." She releases him with a huff, pries the cards from your hand before bending them back to straighten out the crease down the center. "Next time you forget, I'm taking your arm home with me."

Gods, being on the receiving end of her anger must be terrifying. Something you've never had to worry about—usually, the confrontations start because of you. People getting a bit too handsy, making comments she doesn’t appreciate, swearing threats of harm to spite her.

She’s protective of you because she has to be. Still doesn’t talk about the incident on your birthday two years ago, and definitely doesn’t want a repeat.

"Won't happen again," he says, voice small and wavering. Poor man might piss himself right in his chair.

She gives him one last glare before turning back to the table, eyes landing on you, then spreads out your cards directly in front of your face. "Now, where were we?” . . . The weeks continue on much the same. Every weekend, she takes you to the bar to play with your group. Sends you to fetch drinks for the table as she deals out the cards. Tugs you into her lap with a hand around your waist. And you get better with each game, more confident in your decisions as time goes on.

Today is different, though.

You play most of the game on your own, only seeking her knowledge on terms unfamiliar to you. She corrects you in certain rounds, namely the effectiveness of your strategy, but gazes down at you with pretty eyes filled with pride each time you seek out her validation.

And you find yourself genuinely enjoying the experience. A fun way to socialize, good competition, flexing your brain power. The money aspect doesn't personally interest you like it does her, but you understand why she loves playing so much (and you're a lot less sulky about all the times she stayed out late at the bar).

The others go easier on you once you win your very first round with minimal influence from Sevika. The drama from last month is long-forgotten as they cheer in celebration, one of the men leaving to buy your favorite drink as a reward.

Like always, she takes the first sip when he hands it over. You had asked her about it a few weeks back, and she simply shrugged and said, 'I don't trust anyone with you,' the absolute sap of a woman. Every time she's done it since, you like to think of it as her showing her love. A running theme in your relationship: show don't tell. You've always appreciated her approach to things.

But it isn't until late into the night when the game begins to heat up that you get your very own seat, shoved right up against hers. A first for you, a clear sign of your improvement. Finally part of their little group instead of being brushed off as Sevika's decorative lapdog.

Except now, you play against her in earnest. Your first tried and true test. No hints, no help, just the knowledge you've absorbed thus far. You do better than expected. Drop out in third place with her scraping up a win.

This is when your obsession officially begins.

A few months go by, and you find yourself spending more time at your little table in the corner of the bar. More time without her playing alongside you. The guys welcome you with open arms when you stroll through the door by yourself, and you can almost smell her influence. Must've given them a stern talking-to on one of the nights you didn’t feel like playing.

Tonight, though, she accompanies you, only hours back from whatever run Silco sent her on. You had begged her to come with you for the perfect way to end out the week, a good bonding activity, she owes you after being gone four days.

(”Fine. I'll go, but we aren't staying long.”)

And tonight, it happens. You finally win.

Ignore the fact that the whole table is piss drunk, Sevika included, and it's been a solid month of frustration and tears and perhaps a tantrum or two, but you finally did it. By a landslide, to boot.

She pulls you into her lap with a chest-rattling laugh then kisses you hard and messy on the cheek. “That's my girl!”

You soak up her praise and the resounding group's cheers like a sponge, ears flushing with heat, and throw your arms around her neck.

The next morning, she asks about who won the final game, pouting over a piece of toast from the headache thrumming through her skull.

“I did, actually.”

A raise of her eyebrow. “Don't remember you drinking.”

You sputter, brows furrowed in offense. “So? I still won.”

She shrugs, mouth splitting into a teasing grin. “Whatever you say.”

“I did.”

“Mhm. Sure.”

“You're an asshole.”

And yet you press a tender kiss to the top of her head as you pass by the table.

.

.

.

Sevika is gone again, and you need a change of scenery. Your new destination? A club a long ways away from her apartment that she's mentioned a few times before, with a rumored underground lounge perfect for one thing: card playing.

Alright. Well. You've been here for a while longer than you intended, but what else is there to do in the Undercity besides sit at a bar, go clubbing, and eat? (A bit oversimplified, but the general point still stands.) And none of those things are fun when she’s off risking her life at some warehouse or dock or sketchy alleyway.

So you need a distraction, and nothing fills your dopamine tank like winning. And you've done a lot of it over the past two days, to the point where you’re starting to believe that some of the men sitting at your table have a losing fetish.

Or maybe you’ve just gotten that good.

However, the fun stops when a pair of boots pound down the steps into the small room you reside in. The air thick with smoke, three sets of tables and occupied chairs squeezed as close as possible to make room for a small bar and a jukebox.

Sevika ducks through the cramped doorway with a determined furrow to her brow, and you've never felt terrified of her—the sharp search of her gaze—until now.

“Oh shit!”

You shove your chair away from the table and crawl beneath it, knocking your shoulder on its edge. Through the throng of seated legs, you spot her walking around the room, pausing every so often to no doubt ask about you.

She wasn't supposed to be home until tomorrow.

On the other side of the table, the face of the woman you’ve been playing with comes into view. “What the fuck are you doing? We're on the last round!”

Slowly, Sevika's boots move closer to your table, and the scrape of chair legs spins you around. You lock on to her shadowed form, bent uncomfortably at the waist just to pin you with a disapproving glare.

You immediately start begging. “One more game, please—”

“No. I'm cutting you off.”

You crawl out from beneath the table with a frustrated growl, shoulder tender with each movement. “I'm on a winning streak!”

“You haven't been home in two days. Where the hell have you even been sleeping?”

You don't even ask how she knows that. If a rat so much as shits in the street around the Lanes, somebody runs to tell her. Of course your little adventure would trigger alarm bells (namely because you can’t be bothered to go anywhere too far).

Yeah, this is admittedly very odd behavior from you.

The man to your left raises his hand, belches, then almost topples over onto you. “We got an apartment in the next building over. Our girl's been crashing on the couch.”

She slams a hand on the table, knocking over the remaining glasses still filled with liquid (some of which ends up on your favorite pair of pants). Points a murderous finger at the man with an adorable, pouting frown. “First of all, there is no our. And you—” she rounds on you so suddenly you jolt, then grabs you by the arm, “we’re going home.”

A wave of protests echo around the table, and it takes only a single scowl from her for them to concede.

She leads you out of the room and up the steps, eerily silent the whole way.

Once you step out onto the street, she starts on you, furrowed brows hiding the fury in her gaze. “What the hell were you thinking? I was—” she pauses, chin dipping toward her chest for a moment before she looks at you once again. “You seem to forget who I am. Who you are to me.”

Worry leaks through her pores, radiates from her in waves, and she tries to stay calm, to shove the feeling down, but the glimmer in her eyes gives her away.

Any other time, you would comfort her, but your hackles raise at the implication. “That goes both ways, you know.”

“It's different. You know that.”

As if you don't worry yourself sick every time she walks out the door. You fucking love her. How could it be any different? Capability means nothing in the face of statistics. And statistically, there’s always a chance she doesn’t come home

“Why, ‘cause I'm weak? I've lived here all my life, same as you, Sev. You act like I'm incompetent.”

Anger burns hot in your gut, and you turn on your heel to storm off. Up ahead, there's a split in the road that goes either right or left, and you bank on the latter.

A short ways behind you, she calls, “Wrong way, honey.”

You whip around to give her your meanest glare, a sunstorm surging inside you at the sight of her smug grin. Beautiful asshole.

“Thanks,” you spit, leaving her in the dust as you walk as fast as your legs can carry you.

Except you don't. She gives you space to cool off, but the thump of her boots still echo off the pavement. Close enough to look out for you. It's sweet and it shouldn't be because you're angry at her, which pisses you off even more. She's so hard to be mad at when she’s all concerned and protective and soft with you.

Upon realizing that you're totally, completely lost, you stop long enough for her to catch up, and her form quickly appears in the corner of your eye.

“You done sulking?”

All it takes is a glance at her relaxed face and a heavy sigh from your lungs for the remaining upset to dissolve. Because you love her, and you don't like being angry. “Yeah… Sorry for being an asshole.”

“Apology accepted.”

With a scoff, you slap her hard on the ass, quick enough to pull away that her hand just barely misses your wrist. “You're the bigger one, though.”

The startled glare on her face makes your future punishment worth it. She'll catch you unawares, maybe not today or tomorrow or even a week from now, but she'll eventually give as good as she got.

And then the surprise fades away to something tender, face softening.

“I'm sorry, too,” she mutters. “But you know how I am. Can’t protect what I can’t see.”

With an aching chest, you bring her hand to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to the scarred ridge of her knuckles. “Apology accepted.”

The walk home after that is long and quiet, her hand in yours warm and comforting. By the grace of the gods, your outing ends peacefully for once, and spending time with her in such a simple way is a huge plus after being apart for so long (two days—psh).

Once you near her apartment, she finally speaks, a hint of irritation woven between the words. “So. Did you at least win anything?”

You perk up at the question, a toothy smile sore-ing up your face. “Oh, did I?” With a tug to her hand, she stops. Crosses her arms, expectant (and you absolutely don't pay attention to the delicious bulge of her bicep). “Let me show you.” You reach beneath your cloak, and from the pocket of your pants you pull out a hefty coin purse. One she immediately eyes with a raised brow. “You see this?”

“I see it.”

“Who knew that guys around here paid extra to have their asses handed to them by a pretty girl?”

She tries to suppress her mirth. Really, she does. But there's no mistaking the twinkle in her eye or the wide grin that stretches her lips.

“Yep.” You nod, chest puffing with pride as you wield the bag like a prized trophy. “I'm taking my woman out for a night on the town.”

“Not tonight, you aren't.” She rolls her eyes, dragging you along with a warm hand between your shoulder blades. “That was fucking stupid, by the way. Sleeping on a stranger's couch?”

“To be fair, he forgot to mention that he has a wife and kid.”

“That doesn't matter.”

“She fixed me breakfast, Sev.”

“I fix you breakfast.”

“Yeah, but mom breakfast tastes different.”

She heaves a resigned sigh and runs a hand over her tiny ponytail. “I've created a monster.”

[gremlingottoosilly]

Horsin' around (Centaurus!Konig x fem!Reader)

Konig is exiled from his people. You are exiled from yours. Together, you make about 6 legs and a perfect pair. Tags and CW: Size kink (duh), Centaurus!Konig(horse cocks), Konig is awkward, slight dub-con, power imbalance, belly bulge, praise kink, monster fucking. Thanks @kneelingshadowsalome for the prompt! AO3| Word count: 3016

Centaurus are not wild animals. You keep repeating it to yourself as you come deeper and deeper into the forest. You keep mumbling it to yourself as you feel the eyes watching you. judging you. Centaurus are not wild animals even if sometimes they behave like one. Not like you’re any different, any better – you’re a human, invading the sacred forests. You’re a human who is dumb enough to go foraging into the depths of their territory. Centaurus are not wild animals, but you don’t feel that repeating the same sentence over and over makes it sound any more convincing. You feel the danger in the air – with each step you take, with each fallen tree you’re stepping over. With every attempt to simply run ending up not working, you know you got lost. Long abandoned the basket you came with – you don’t recognize a single berry that grows here, not a mushroom or even some edible plant pieces to be found. This place is devoid of animals, of flowers – like something just snatched it all away. Ate it all, maybe. You don’t want to think what kind of creature could cause a migration like this. You don’t need to think though. Because the creature finds you first. 

You yelp in a mix of surprise and horror when the arrow flies right in front of you, the skill of the archer is high enough to make the arrow cut down a few bits of hair in front of your eyes. If you were a mere millimeter closer, you’d be dead. If he wanted you dead, you’d be dead. This much is obvious. You freeze in place, not daring to move an inch when you hear it. Loud, not even bothering to conceal the sound of it – the creature was confident enough that the prey wouldn’t run. Not the creature, you correct yourself immediately. Centaurs are not animals, they are closer to humans than a lot of other monster types – with their strength and warrior culture, you’d say that they are even more humans than citizens of the village who forced you out. 

The centaur doesn’t even bother to hide himself from you, concealing the sounds of heavy hooves on the ground or evading the branches that crunched against his body. This is exactly what made you surprised when you understood that instead of a rough, but mostly handsome face that most centaurus tend to have, you’re met with a black hood which only spared two holes for the icy-blue eyes staring back at you. 

Is he a grim reaper? An executioner for other centaurus? Would that mean you don’t have to worry unless your lower part resembles a horse? 

You take a quick look at your bottom half. Not a horse. 

Centaur reapers the gesture, looking at his bottom half too. Definitely a horse. 

You decide to speak first, hoping to find words that would work just fine to be your last. 

— I am really sorry for intru…

— This is not the sacrifice season yet. 

Ah, well. 

The people from your village believe the centaurs to be sacred – despite them being monsters they knew a lot about, they were still given sacrifices. Food, some farm animals, especially fatty pieces of meat, and fancy jewels along with some weapons. Centaurus kept the worst predators at bay, herding the wolves to be their pets and sometimes driving deer and rabbits away to the village. They kept you protected from werewolves and orcs – with a meager payment of never touching the sacred grounds. 

You just stepped into the deepest, most protected part of the forest. You wonder if you would deserve a peaceful death. 

— It’s not. I…I made a mistake. 

No, you wanted to be here. When the village decided to drive you out, you thought that foraging in the part of the forest, untouched by humans, would be the most profitable thing. Centaurus won’t take berries anyway, right? But they might just take your life. 

— A mistake? 

He tilts his hooded head to the side. It’s such a boyish expression, that you almost let go of a nervous giggle. Perhaps, you were going crazy…but the centaur seemed a bit nervous. As seasoned as he looked – with battle scars covering his body and a bit of silver mixed with his ginger fur on the horse part – he seemed almost awkward standing here. Tapping one of his hooved legs like a nervous child. Squeezing the bow in his hands with vigor that made you scared he will just snap it in half. 

— I just wanted to take some food. 

— Is there a hunger? 

— No. 

— Humans aren’t allowed in these parts. Why would you go if not out of despair? 

You gulp. 

— I…am not allowed back. 

— Why? 

Because you’re a forest witch who will doom them all, according to the village of a horse people worshippers. Because you’re a monster in disguise who keeps straling babies, according to the village that uses the best pieces of food to feed the horse people who can take of themselves just fine, instead of feeding it to the orphaned children. Because you’re a whore who refuses to accept the new type of sacrifices – the virgins of the village as a breeding material for the Centaurus, according to the village filled with people who would gladly push a poor virgin out in the forest once she turned of age, so she could be mauled by horse people. 

— We had…mutual disagreement. 

You stare at the mighty body of the centaur. You fight the urge to get your hands down his torso, play with its short hairs, and…you were always a bit of a horse girl. Wondering if he is strong enough to lift you up and get you somewhere safe, somewhere far far away from here. 

Centaur has this weird, almost boyish tone. Deep and yet, sounds just a bit deranged. Unhinged. Like he is going to maul you any second – and judging by the bow and arrow still in his hands, he might not be wrong. You lick your lips. He stares at them – or at least you think he is. Hood only reveals his eyes and you can already get lost in them. Cold, like the northern sea, Like the snow outside. You thought all mythical creatures were supposed to be warm-blooded. 

— You’re exiled then. 

He isn’t asking. Centaurus are omnipotent and wise, they should know about human affairs more than humans themselves. You made them into sort of gods – you shouldn’t be surprised that this guy knows way more than he should. Somehow, you still feel safer around him than other humans – and maybe, it’s more of a you problem. Maybe, you ended up eating some of the weird berries and it’s just your hallucinations before you die. 

— I am. 

He takes a step back. He is big – all of them are, you suppose, but, somehow, he is bigger than he should be. Giant, muscular torso on top of an already muscular and big horse part – he can pick you up, throw you, and break you with one finger, probably. No, definitely. You don’t want to give him a reason to, so you just stay in place. Hoping he wouldn’t deem your trespassing as a matter worthy of a torturous death. 

— My name is König, human. Repeat, ja? 

The name feels weird on your tongue. Rude, sharp. You don’t want to call him wrong and receive his wrath, so you try your best to repeat this. 

— Ko-nig. Ja? 

You tilt your head to the side, a curious little bird. Centaur – König, König, König – squints his eyes like he is smiling. You made the god smile. The horse god. The horseman. Just…man. If you don’t look down, where you already see something giant and heavy standing between his horse legs, you could forget that he isn’t a man at all. 

Suddenly, you feel light. Suddenly, you feel your legs dangling in the air as you were picked up and bumped into the broad chest. Suddenly, you feel hands everywhere. On your ass, under it, touching your chest, your stomach, trying to get to the best position so you would stop moving constantly and trying to get out. You don’t want to fight him because you’re already in the air and falling right now could result in a broken neck – but you don’t want to be suspended in the air either. You whimper, pathetic sound escaping your lips as you feel calloused hands pressing on your mound. Traveling down your stomach and touching, squeezing, petting your delicate parts. 

You spend so much time without a gentle hand or a soft touch, you can feel yourself dripping on the fingers of a centaur. Embarrassing, yes – but you know that if he were to proceed, you wouldn’t really resist. 

And oh, he proceeds. 

— They finally send us proper sacrifices. 

He mumbles it into your hair, taking in your smell. You’re nice for a human – not scared of him too much, not trying to ran away or fight. Humans are usually just annoying insects under his hooves, but König can feel your face growing on him. Your body, too. Too weird for other Centaurus, never being able to find a proper mate who could take his lack of social awareness, he found himself mounting a human. His tribe would call him pathetic. His tribe would laugh. 

Then again, he is the first to get such a delicate little gift. Who is laughing now? 

You aren’t crying in his hands, and he is a bit surprised. You smell like a proper mate, like a good bitch in heat just for him – yet, you’re not falling on your knees to present your dripping cunt. You’re just trying to whimper to ask him to be gentler, and he is happy to oblige. Calm enough to listen to you. Ripping your pants apart because this is such a useless piece of clothing – concealing your rich smell from him. 

König doesn’t waste any time when he dips his finger across your swollen folds. Playing with the slick running down his wrist, smiling as you are closing your eyes and pressing your head in his chest. He is strong enough to keep you suspended in the air without a care in the world. Weak human, he would have to spend so much time preparing you for him – taking his cock would be a task no sacrifice ever competed before. 

König stares at your dripping pussy that is already clenching around nothing just because his fingers are pressing on the hood of your little clit, and he knows you’d be the perfect wife for him. Taking him properly as his mate, moaning as his cum fills you up. he can’t wait – knows that he should, preparing you properly. His hooves are beating the ground in impatience as his fingers slide in and out of your pussy. You spread your legs, moaning louder. Such a filthy whore for him. 

— Relax, human. Be a good mate. 

— This isn’t what I wa…

— Quiet. Such a good…good girl, Schatz. Will bring me strong children. 

— We can’t have sex. It’s im…impossible.

You whimper, trying to squeeze your legs, to shut his hand. You only moan louder, knowing that you would accept everything he gives you, and ask for more. 

You don’t want to imagine his cock entering you over and over, forcing its way past your walls and making you round and soft with his children. It’s a foreign concept – centaurus shouldn’t mate with humans, it should be physically impossible. Yet, you almost want to try. A breeding mare, made for one and only. 

König gets you on…something. It isn’t exactly a natural thing – a pile of stones and trees, perfect height for you to lay your back on, with some soft leaves and animal skins to rest comfortably. His hands support you on the perfect height and you immediately know what he construction is. A mating stand. Probably for other centaurus – but you feel almost fine laying on it too. Almost normal. Your muscles sting as you try to rest your legs and then spread them wide enough for König to stay between them. He is a big guy, after all. He turns you around, on your tummy. Ass in the air, you don’t like not seeing him. The heavy musk fills your nostrils, making you suddenly aware of what is about to happen – you’re wet, spread enough on his fingers, calloused fingertips scrubbing your gummy walls from the inside. He is fingering you with ease, but it doesn’t feel like a man with experience – he is touching and probing like he doesn’t know what he is doing and, honestly, you kinda like it. He is exploring your body with his and you moan, not caring that you sound like a whore. Humans have already abandoned you as part of society – you might as well just take it. — I will prepare you. 

— It won’t fit… — It will, Schatzen. You’ll get used to it. — What if I break? 

— I will be careful. Trust me, ja?

Even his fingers are a bit much when he enters your body with a third digit. One, two, three – you are about to burst when he is massaging your G-spot, when he is smiling in your hair and gets you so aroused just on it alone. You’re about to cum when he slowly extracts his fingers, deeming your sloppy cunt as explored enough. Your walls are clenching around nothing, a beautiful display of desire – maybe, it was the right call that humanity abandoned you. König looks at the perfect centraius whore on display and he can’t wait to claim you. To make you his. 

He is exiled from other centaurus. 

You are exiled from humans. 

What a beautiful fucking pair. 

He enters your body slowly deliberately. Regrets it immediately – you are wonderful. Too perfect to be this slow, being soft with you is torture. Your walls accept him with a stretch, like a warm glove around his cock. Slowly shifting, softening, straddling his cock with each inch he buries in the depth of your warm, weeping cunt. He can’t touch you, as unfortunate as this is – dumb horse body is making it impossible, even looking at you is hard enough on his neck. He wants to mount you properly, but you’re simply too fucking small. Wants to touch your hair, to whisper some encouragement that human women would probably love to hear – but he can only breath heavily and enter you, one painful centimeter after the other. 

— T…too much, too much, please, I can’t, it’s… You whimper, you cry, it breaks his damned heart because you don’t deserve this. You need to be treated with care, with softness and yet, he can’t give you that. He wants so much to just put you in his arms and hug you, but that would be impossible. König will give you all the coddling in the world after you’re done. After he is sure that you received all the possible breeding and seed he could gave you. 

— Quiet, human. It would be nice soon. 

— It’s not…

— Touch yourself, please, bitte. I can’t…can’t touch you. But you will feel better. 

Your hand goes between your legs, playing with yourself. Spreading your folds around his cock even more, fingers sliding past your clit. Touching the little button and hoping it would be enough to make you aroused – and it is. Your cunt is a mess of your own juices mixed with König’s pre cum, and you already know that you won’t be walking the next couple days. 

König bottoms with a deep sigh, and you feel him in your stomach. Bulging with his giant cockhead, making the outline of his cock visible – you touch it with shock, not understanding how your organs are even in place. 

He starts moving and you finally feel it – the burning pleasure setting fire in the pit of your stomach. the excess liquid pouring from your damp cunt, moans spreading from your lips. You never felt this way with a human before – then again, no human cock would ever be able to compete with König. He can reach the parts of your body that you never knew existed, and the mix of pheromones and musk is making you dizzy. Light-headed. You don’t even need to touch yourself more to feel the height of your orgasm, building in as rapidly as König’s thrusts. 

In, forcing its way to hit your cervix gently, massaging the sore spots of your tight pussy. 

Out, grazing over your inner walls, touching all the buttons. 

In again, filling you up with his pre-cum. Moaning loud enough for the whole forest to hear. 

Out, dragging you back with him, as you’re still impaled on his cock. 

— S…so perfect for me. Scheisse, so pretty… He can’t touch you and it breaks his heart. König goes to praise you instead – words feel awkward on his tongue, but he knows you need to heart it. He wants you to hear it, wants you to fee wanted, entitled. Soft. He smiles when you whimper and moan, milking him for his orgasm. Your cunt is made for him and he wants to spend every waking moment buried inside of it. Gods, you are a perfect sacrifice. 

He is coming embarrassingly fast, pumping his giant cock even deeper into your pussy. Filling you up with hot cum that can’t even stay inside of your cunt. Leaking everywhere, you two are making a mess – you breath heavily, not understanding what is right and wrong anymore. Only knowing, remembering the shape of his cock. Pushing in and out, forcing its way in. God, you feel full. And ridiculous. And so, so perfect with his cock slowly starting to pump you again. And again. Konig came embarrassingly fast, but only because this is just the first orgasm in a row. Forcing its way inside, you are overstimulated already – but you will take him, of course, obviously. You have to.

König is going to enjoy breeding a new clan out of you. 

[solxamber]

do you think you could write about a white rabbit reader like how did with wild cat? as in the white rabbit from alice in wonderland— who’s more of a polite anxious mess trying to follow the queens strict rules but is kind of bad at it. possibly shy or on the quieter side like a rabbit beastman would probably be, considering most of the beastmens personalities align with their animal counterparts behavior. and for some reason most of the beastmen we see, or even the merpeople, are all predator animals so i would love to see their interactions with a prey animal. for the first time ever, leona would actually be scientifically correct in calling the reader an herbivore. they would also be the only beastman who’s not sorted into savanaclaw i imagine. in canonical alice in wonderland, or at least a majority of its interpretations, the white rabbit is considered a neutral, somewhat villain leaning character. he works for the queen but he’s never outright evil, if anything he’s kind of a coward as he is initially terrified of alice. so i can see reader being mostly benevolent and a little bit of a scaredy cat who’s still relatively friendly. thank you

White Rabbit! Reader x Everyone

Thank you for the request <3 I hope you like it

Character: All NRC + Staff + Rollo, Neige

Riddle Rosehearts:

You’re always on edge around Riddle, frantically trying to follow the Queen's rules and his. But you trip over your own feet so often that Riddle ends up scolding you almost every day.

"Rule 76: No running in the halls!" Riddle huffs as you scramble past him, dropping a handful of papers as you trip over your own shoes.

You fumble around, trying to gather the papers while stammering an apology, eyes wide and twitching like a startled rabbit. “S-sorry! I didn’t mean to—oh no! Rule 17: Never drop important documents...”

Riddle looks ready to blow up, but when you shoot him those big, panicked eyes, he exhales sharply through his nose, the lecture stuck in his throat. "Just… get it together!" he mutters, turning on his heel, clearly flustered. “How am I supposed to enforce rules when you look like you're going to faint every time I open my mouth?!”

In the back of your mind, you wonder if he’d be so strict if he knew you were working for the "Queen." But you don't have the nerve to tell him that, so you just nod and awkwardly salute.

Trey Clover:

You never quite relax around Trey, even though he's the calmest person in Heartslabyul. Every time you’re near him, you’re just waiting for the moment when he’ll ask you to do something scary, like taste one of his experimental dishes or—worse—eat cake in front of Riddle. The idea makes your ears droop.

"Hey, you okay?" Trey asks when he notices you standing stiffly by the kitchen door. He’s got flour on his apron and a knife in hand, chopping fruit with easy precision.

You jump at the sound of his voice and nearly knock over a stack of plates. "I-I’m fine!" you squeak, standing even straighter like you’re in the Queen’s court.

Trey chuckles softly. "You know, I’m not going to bite. Unless I’m making rabbit stew." He winks.

Your eyes widen in horror, ears trembling. "R-rabbit stew?!"

He laughs, holding up his hands. "I'm kidding! Kidding!" Trey seems to find your reactions endlessly amusing, always leaning in with a gentle smile. "But if you need help relaxing, just say the word. Maybe we can make some tea. No pressure."

But all you hear is "pressure," and you feel like you're about to combust.

Cater Diamond:

Cater thinks you're the cutest thing on two legs, especially when you're in a flustered state. Which, unfortunately for you, is almost all the time.

“Yo, lil’ bunny!” Cater calls out as he sidles up to you in the hall, phone in hand. You’re mid-panic about how you’re going to explain to Riddle why your shoes are untied, your tie is crooked, and you accidentally skipped breakfast because you were too nervous to eat.

You freeze, giving Cater a look like a deer in headlights—or rather, a rabbit in a snare. “D-don’t call me that,” you mumble, ears twitching furiously. “R-Riddle might hear…”

Cater just grins, pulling out his phone to snap a quick selfie of your panicked expression. “You’ve gotta chill! It’s like, the 5th time today you’ve looked like you're on trial.”

You flinch. On trial?! That’s even worse! “I-I can’t relax! W-what if I break a rule?!”

Cater just pats your head, ruffling your hair. "Well, I think you're doing just fine! Plus, it makes for great content. Smile, #bunnyfails!"

You want to disappear into the ground. But Cater just keeps snapping pics and laughing.

Ace Trappola:

Ace treats you like an adorable walking ball of stress that’s just begging to be messed with. And who is Ace if not a professional button-pusher?

"Hey! Rabbit!" Ace shouts across the Heartslabyul gardens one day, and you nearly jump out of your skin, spilling tea all over yourself.

“E-Excuse me?!” you sputter, face burning as you frantically blot at the stain on your uniform.

Ace saunters over with a grin on his face. "Oh, sorry. Did I startle you? You’re just so jumpy—like, literally! It’s hilarious!"

"I-I’m not jumpy!" you insist, but your trembling hands betray you as you fumble with your napkin, accidentally knocking the sugar bowl off the table.

Ace bursts out laughing, nearly doubling over. "Dude, you’re killing me! I swear, every time I’m around, it’s like watching a sitcom! *This* is quality entertainment!"

You huff, glaring at him, ears drooping. "I’m not entertainment."

Ace just gives you a thumbs-up. "Sure you are. And the best part is, you do it all for free!"

Deuce Spade:

Deuce wants to help. He really does. But every time he sees you looking like you’re two seconds from a meltdown, he panics even harder than you do.

"W-whoa! Are you okay?!" Deuce exclaims when he finds you frantically digging through your bag, trying to find the Queen’s latest decree—or was it Riddle’s study notes? You can't remember because you’re too stressed.

"I-I lost the thing! You know, the thing!" you gasp out, waving your arms wildly.

Deuce pales. "Oh no, that’s bad! I-I can help! What thing?!”

"I DON’T KNOW!" you cry, at the peak of panic now.

Deuce stares at you for a second, eyes wide. Then he also starts scrambling around. "Okay, okay! We can find it! Stay calm! Well—not calm, but calmer!"

You both end up running in circles until Trey finds you and asks, deadpan, “What exactly are you two looking for?”

The silence that follows is deafening.

“Um…” Deuce rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “I... kind of forgot.”

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona knows exactly how to push your buttons—and he does so with as little effort as possible. For someone so calm and lazy, he seems to get a real kick out of watching you squirm.

“Oi, herbivore,” Leona drawls from his usual spot under the shade of a tree. You freeze, clutching your bag tighter as you glance nervously in his direction. “Why are you sneaking around like a prey animal? Oh, wait—you are one.”

You flinch and stammer, “I-I’m not sneaking, I’m just, um... minding my own business?”

Leona smirks, lazily cracking open one eye to look at you. “If you ‘mind your business’ any harder, you’re gonna trip over your own feet.”

You gulp, taking a step back, but he’s not done with you. “Maybe if you tried relaxing for once, you wouldn’t be so jittery.”

“I-I can’t help it!” you squeak, nearly tripping as you scuttle away, ears twitching furiously. “I have to follow the rules!”

Leona watches you run off, chuckling lowly to himself. “Rules, huh? Just don’t drop dead from the stress, or I’ll have to carry your sorry hide out of here.”

You spend the next week worrying that he’s going to jump out of nowhere and pounce on you—but of course, that’s way too much effort for Leona.

Ruggie Bucchi:

Ruggie sees you as someone who’s just begging to be teased, and he has no qualms about taking full advantage of your easily flustered nature.

One day, while you’re doing your best to stay out of trouble, Ruggie sneaks up behind you, flashing that mischievous grin of his. “Hey there, Bunny! Need some help with that?”

You yelp and nearly leap out of your skin, sending your stack of papers flying in every direction. “R-Ruggie! You startled me!”

Ruggie snickers as he helps you gather up the papers. “Aw, c’mon, I didn’t mean to. You’re just too easy, y’know? Makes me wanna mess with you a little.”

You pout, ears drooping. “W-well, it’s not very nice...”

He shrugs, still grinning. “What can I say? It’s in my nature. But I guess I’ll help you out, just this once.” He leans in closer and lowers his voice, adding, “Don’t expect it for free, though.”

Your face goes pale. “Wh-what do you want?”

Ruggie chuckles. “Relax, I’m just teasing! For now, anyway.” He winks before sauntering off, leaving you clutching your papers and wondering if every beastman in Savanaclaw has it out for you.

Jack Howl:

Jack feels a sense of duty to protect you. Even though he thinks you’re a little too skittish for your own good, he respects how hard you try to follow the rules—even when you trip over them.

“Hey, wait up,” Jack calls after you one day as you’re hurrying across campus. You turn to see him jogging over, looking concerned.

“O-oh! Jack! I-I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?” you ask nervously, already panicking that you might have broken some rule.

Jack frowns, crossing his arms. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Why do you always assume you did?”

You blink up at him, ears twitching. “I-I’m just worried I’ll mess up...”

Jack sighs, shaking his head. “You’re too hard on yourself. Look, if anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll step in. No one’s gonna hurt you while I’m around.”

Your eyes widen. “R-really? You’d do that?”

Jack nods firmly. “Of course. You’ve got a good heart, even if you’re a bit jumpy. Someone’s gotta look out for you.”

You smile up at him, feeling a little more reassured. But before you can thank him, you trip over your own feet and fall forward—right into Jack’s arms.

He catches you easily, looking down at you with a raised brow. “You’re really something, you know that?”

You blush furiously, scrambling to right yourself. “S-sorry! I-I didn’t mean to...”

Jack just chuckles softly. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back, Bunny.”

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul sees your anxiety as an untapped market. He’s confident he could help soothe your nerves—with a little contract, of course.

One day, while you’re quietly minding your own business in the Mostro Lounge, Azul slips into the seat across from you with his signature grin. “Ah, my dear friend. You seem rather... tense.”

You freeze in place, blinking rapidly. “O-oh! N-no, I’m just... trying to follow the rules.”

Azul’s eyes gleam behind his glasses. “Why don’t I offer you a deal? I can help alleviate some of that stress of yours. All it would take is a small favor in return...”

Your ears twitch nervously. “U-um... I-I’m not sure...”

Azul leans closer, lowering his voice to a silky whisper. “Imagine it—no more anxiety, no more worries about breaking the rules. All you’d have to do is sign here...”

You nearly pass out from the pressure, eyes darting around the lounge as if looking for an escape. “I-I think I’m fine! Really! Thank you!”

Azul chuckles darkly as you bolt from the lounge. He watches you go with a sigh. “Ah, such potential... But I suppose it’s not every day I encounter a rabbit so determined to resist.”

Jade Leech:

Jade finds your anxious behavior endlessly fascinating. He’s not one to outright tease—he prefers subtlety—but he enjoys watching you squirm in his presence.

One afternoon, you’re frantically trying to fix a mistake in your homework when Jade appears behind you without a sound. “Oh my, is everything alright?”

You yelp, almost knocking over your ink bottle. “J-Jade! You startled me!”

Jade smiles pleasantly, though you can see a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I apologize. I simply couldn’t help but notice how... flustered you seemed.”

You try to calm your racing heart. “I-I’m just trying to finish this assignment...”

Jade leans over your shoulder, examining your work. “Ah, I see. Perhaps I could offer some assistance? Though I must admit, it is rather... amusing to watch you at times.”

You flush, ears twitching in embarrassment. “A-amusing?”

Jade chuckles softly, standing upright again. “Indeed. You’re quite endearing in your own way.”

You’re not sure if that’s a compliment or not, but you nod meekly. “T-thank you... I think?”

Floyd Leech:

Floyd loves messing with you. It’s as simple as that. Your reactions are priceless, and he never misses an opportunity to make you jump out of your skin.

“Bunnyyyyy!” Floyd calls out, voice echoing through the hall as he chases after you. You speed up, desperately trying to get away, but Floyd is faster, his long legs catching up in no time.

He grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around with a grin. “Gotcha!”

You practically shriek. “F-Floyd! I-I wasn’t—”

Floyd cackles, bending down to look you in the eyes. “You’re always so jumpy, Bunny. It’s fun chasing you! Makes me wanna squeeze you even more.”

You tremble under his intense gaze, feeling like a mouse caught by a cat. “P-please don’t squeeze too hard...”

Floyd laughs again and ruffles your hair. “No promises! But you’re too funny to squish all at once. Guess I’ll just have to keep playing with you!”

You manage a weak smile, trying not to collapse from sheer anxiety. “G-great...”

Kalim Al-Asim:

Kalim is oblivious to your constant anxiety and thinks you’re just really shy. He goes out of his way to befriend you, always offering kind words and gifts to make you feel welcome.

One day, Kalim approaches you with a beaming smile, holding out a brightly wrapped gift. “Hey, I got this for you!”

Your ears twitch in surprise. “F-for me? Why?”

Kalim laughs cheerfully. “Why not? You’re my friend! And you always look so nervous, I thought this might cheer you up!”

You blink down at the gift, overwhelmed by his kindness. “I-I don’t know what to say...”

Kalim grins wider. “No need to say anything! Just know that if you ever feel anxious, I’m here for you, okay?”

His sunny demeanor is so contagious that you can’t help but smile back. “Th-thank you, Kalim. That means a lot...”

Kalim claps you on the back with a laugh, nearly knocking you off your feet. “No worries! We’re friends, after all!”

Jamil Viper:

Jamil is mildly exasperated by your anxious nature. He already has his hands full with Kalim, so dealing with you on top of that feels like another babysitting job. Still, he does his best to help you out when Kalim inevitably ropes you into their social circle.

One day, you’re standing awkwardly at the edge of a party, trying to blend into the wallpaper when Jamil approaches you with a sigh. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

You glance at him nervously. “I-I don’t want to cause any trouble...”

Jamil pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re not causing trouble. Just... relax a little, okay? You don’t have to be so anxious all the time.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “I-I don’t know how...”

Jamil sighs again, crossing his arms. “Well, just... follow Kalim’s lead, I guess. He doesn’t worry about anything.”

You look over at Kalim, who’s dancing on a table and laughing without a care in the world. “Easier said than done...”

Jamil gives you a tired look. “Tell me about it.”

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil is very much like the Queen you serve—strict, elegant, and entirely intimidating. Which means every time you’re around him, you end up feeling like you’re going to pass out from sheer anxiety.

“Why are you slouching like that?” Vil snaps, noticing you trying to fade into the background during a Pomefiore meeting. He points a perfectly manicured finger at you, expression sharp. “Posture is important, darling.”

You immediately stand straighter, ears trembling slightly. “I-I’m sorry, Vil! I didn’t mean to—"

“Hmm,” Vil tilts his head, examining you with a critical eye. “I swear, being around you is like trying to train an anxious little bunny. How am I supposed to shape you into anything presentable if you’re always two seconds away from fainting?”

“I-I promise to do better!” you stammer, sweating bullets.

Vil sighs dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just… try not to look like prey when you’re in front of an audience, alright? We can’t have Pomefiore’s image ruined because someone mistook you for their lunch.”

You nod furiously, completely unsure how you’re supposed to accomplish that but determined to try.

Rook Hunt:

Rook finds you utterly fascinating, like a rare creature he’s determined to observe in its natural habitat. Which is to say, he’s always popping up out of nowhere and scaring the living daylights out of you.

“Mon lapin!” Rook exclaims from behind you, and you jump about three feet in the air, ears standing straight up.

“R-Rook! Please don’t do that!” you gasp, clutching your chest as you try to calm your racing heart.

Rook just smiles at you, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Ah, but I cannot help it! The way you react—so pure, so genuine, like a rabbit hearing a twig snap in the forest! It’s magnifique!”

You gulp, ears slowly drooping back down. “I-I don’t think being compared to prey is exactly a compliment…”

“But of course it is!” Rook insists, stepping closer and giving you a dazzling grin. “You are a creature of instinct, always alert, always prepared to flee! There is beauty in that, mon ami. And I, as your loyal huntsman, will ensure no harm befalls you.”

You smile nervously, unsure if that’s comforting or even scarier. “T-that’s… good to know?”

Rook’s eyes sparkle, as if he’s just found his next great challenge. “Ah, but one day, I hope to see you without fear, to see the calm, serene smile of a rabbit at rest. What a glorious sight that would be!”

You have no idea how to respond to that, so you just nod, deciding it’s better not to question Rook’s eccentricity.

Epel Felmier:

Epel thinks you’re kind of cool, actually. You’re nervous all the time, yeah, but you’re also from a strict background and work under pressure constantly. He respects that. Which means he’s decided that you’re his unofficial partner in surviving Vil’s tyranny.

“Hey, c’mon, you don’t need to be that scared of Vil,” Epel says one day, nudging your side as the two of you scrub cauldrons in the alchemy lab. “Sure, he’s scary, but if you just stand up to him once, he’ll back off… probably.”

You glance at Epel, eyes wide. “S-stand up to Vil?! Are you crazy?! I can’t do that! He’ll turn me into a newt or—o-or make me into some kind of fashionable accessory!”

Epel chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah, he ain’t that bad. You just gotta show him you’ve got guts. Or at least, like, fake it.”

You swallow hard, ears drooping. “F-faking it sounds risky… What if he notices?”

Epel grins, giving you a thumbs-up. “Then we run. Fast. Like the prey animals we are.”

You blink at him, half-horrified, half-impressed. “You… consider yourself a prey animal?”

Epel shrugs. “Sometimes, yeah. I mean, what else am I gonna do against Vil? Might as well embrace it. Besides, you’re good at dodgin’ people, right? We can make it work.”

You stare at him, processing his words, then sigh in resignation. “I guess we’re in this together then…”

Epel pats your shoulder with a grin. “That’s the spirit! We’re gonna make it through this, bunny style.”

You still have no idea what “bunny style” entails, but you’re willing to trust Epel’s wild plans—for now.

Idia Shroud:

Idia has never related to anyone more in his life. You anxiety is like looking into a jittery, trembling mirror, and for once, Idia is the calm one—relatively speaking.

“W-wait, you have to deliver a message to the Queen?!” Idia whispers, his hair sparking nervously. “That’s like, a total nightmare scenario.”

You nod rapidly, wringing your hands. “Y-yes, but I’m already late, and if I don’t get there soon, it’s off with my head!”

Idia shivers. “No way. I’d rather stay in my room for a thousand years.” He pauses, then adds, “But, um, if you don’t wanna go, maybe… I dunno… we could… not go together?”

You blink at him, your ears twitching at the idea of hiding away instead. “R-really? We can do that?”

He gives you an awkward thumbs-up, his face flushed. “Yeah… like, what’s the worst that could happen? Besides decapitation… but it’s not like anyone would expect me to be brave, right?”

You both glance at Ortho, who’s floating nearby and giving you the biggest, most judgmental sigh he can muster.

“You two need more courage,” Ortho says, shaking his head. “But I’ll help. Let’s make a plan!”

And just like that, your anxiety spirals back into full-on panic.

Ortho Shroud:

Ortho thinks you’re adorable, but he also realizes that you’re a magnet for trouble. So, naturally, he has to make sure you’re safe at all times.

“Good morning!” Ortho beams, floating beside you as you fumble with your basket of letters. “Where are you off to today?”

You twitch slightly, looking over your shoulder. “Oh, um, just delivering some messages… It’s a bit urgent…”

Ortho smiles, activating his sensors. “No problem! I’ll track your location and help with navigation!”

You blink, unsure if you should be relieved or more nervous. “T-track my location?”

Ortho nods cheerfully, a holographic map popping up. “Yup! We can’t have you getting lost in the rose maze again. Remember last time? You were stuck for hours!”

Your ears droop, embarrassed. “I-it’s not my fault everything looks the same…”

“Not to worry!” Ortho reassures. “I’ll make sure you’re in and out in no time! Plus, if you faint from fear, I can carry you.”

The thought of Ortho hauling you over his shoulder while Riddle scolds you is somehow even scarier than getting lost.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus has never met someone so jittery around him—and that’s saying something. He finds it… oddly endearing.

“Good evening, Child of Man,(Hare(?))” Malleus greets, his deep voice echoing through the hallway.

You jump about a foot in the air, your ears standing straight up. “L-Lord Malleus! I-I didn’t see you there!”

Malleus tilts his head, clearly confused. “I was standing right in the middle of the hall.”

You gulp, trying not to show your terror. “S-sorry! I just, um, wasn’t expecting—um—dragons are very quiet, apparently!”

Malleus raises an eyebrow, then smiles, showing just a hint of fang. “I assure you, I have no intention of frightening you.”

You nod rapidly, ears still trembling. “O-of course, Your Highness! I mean, who’s scared? Not me! Totally fine! Super relaxed!”

Malleus chuckles, and the sound is somehow both amused and terrifying. “You truly are quite… peculiar.”

You have no idea if that’s a compliment or an insult, but you nod like it’s the greatest praise in the world. “T-thank you, Lord Malleus.”

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia finds you endlessly amusing. He likes to see just how much he can tease you before you pass out from fright.

“Hello, little rabbit,” Lilia says, appearing out of *nowhere* like he always does.

You squeak, nearly dropping your stack of paperwork. “A-ah! L-Lilia! P-please don’t sneak up on me like that!”

He grins, fangs peeking out. “Oh, but it’s so much fun. You jump every time, like a startled bunny.”

You frown, puffing your cheeks out indignantly, but it only makes you look cuter. “I-I can’t help it! I’m just… easily startled.”

Lilia nods sagely, pretending to consider your words. “Perhaps I should warn you next time? Though that might take away all the fun…”

You gulp, trying to decide if he’s joking or not. “P-please do…”

He laughs, patting your head affectionately. “I make no promises, little one. Just stay on your toes!”

Silver:

Silver finds your constant panic a little concerning, but mostly, it makes him tired just watching you.

You find Silver leaning against a tree, dozing off like usual. “Um, Silver? A-aren’t you supposed to be training?”

Silver blinks awake, giving you a sleepy smile. “Oh, hello. Training? Right, yes, I was. I… took a short rest.”

You fidget, eyes darting around nervously. “W-well, um, I don’t want to interrupt… but could you help me? I think I lost the Queen’s letter again.”

Silver nods slowly, rubbing his eyes. “Of course. But first, you need to breathe. You’re more jittery than the dormouse.”

You force a shaky breath in, nodding. “R-right. Breathe. I can do that.”

Silver gives you a thumbs-up. “Good. Just stay calm. We’ll find it together.”

And then he promptly falls asleep again.

You stare at him, exasperated. “S-Silver?!”

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek is flabbergasted by your lack of composure. It drives him nuts—but also, he thinks you’re kind of adorable, like a helpless bunny.

“YOU!” Sebek bellows, making you flinch so hard you almost trip over yourself. “HOW CAN YOU BE THIS INCOMPETENT?!”

You cringe, clutching your ears. “I-I’m sorry! I’m trying my best, I swear!”

Sebek huffs, crossing his arms. “YOUR BEST IS BARELY ADEQUATE! YOU MUST STRIVE FOR PERFECTION, LIKE LORD MALLEUS!”

You gulp, nodding frantically. “R-right! I’ll… I’ll try harder!”

Sebek looks at your terrified face and sighs, his tone softening just a bit. “FINE, FINE. JUST DON’T MESS UP AGAIN. HERE.”

He hands you the paper you dropped, his ears turning slightly pink. “AND STOP LOOKING SO SCARED. IT’S… DISTRACTING.”

You blink at him, surprised. “D-distracting?”

“YES!” he shouts, clearly flustered. “NOW GO! LORD MALLEUS EXPECTS PERFECTION!”

You scurry away, leaving Sebek to mutter to himself, face flushed. “Such a weak little rabbit…”

Rollo Flamme:

Rollo tries so hard not to be charmed by you, really. He doesn’t like distractions, and you’re the most distracting bunny he’s ever met.

“Are you lost again?” Rollo asks with a sigh, watching as you nervously peek around a corner.

You jump, ears twitching. “O-oh, Rollo! I was just, um… trying to find the courtyard…”

Rollo pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’ve passed it three times already.”

You fumble with your hands, embarrassment turning your face pink. “I-I was just… making sure it was the right one…”

Rollo looks at your big, earnest eyes and sighs again, softer this time. “You’re hopeless,” he mutters. Then, reluctantly, he reaches for your hand, leading you back the way you came. “Come on. I can’t leave you wandering around all day.”

You follow behind him, ears drooping. “S-sorry…”

Rollo shakes his head, not even looking back. “Just try not to get lost again.”

You can’t help but smile a little. “I-I’ll try.”

Neige LeBlanche:

Neige thinks you’re the cutest thing ever. He’s the kind of person who immediately wants to be friends with you, especially because you look so nervous all the time.

“Hello!” Neige waves, beaming at you from across the way.

You blink, startled. “O-oh, um… hello, Neige…”

Neige practically skips over to you, his smile never faltering. “Are you okay? You look a little lost.”

You nod rapidly, trying not to be intimidated by his energy. “Y-yes, I’m fine! Just a little… um…”

“Aw, don’t worry!” Neige says, giving you an encouraging pat on the back. “You’ve got this! I believe in you!”

You stare at him, completely baffled. “You… you do?”

Neige nods earnestly. “Of course! And if you need any help, just let me know, okay? I’ll be your bunny buddy!”

Your ears twitch at the nickname, and you manage a shaky smile. “O-okay… Thank you, Neige.”

Dire Crowley:

Crowley finds your constant worrying both exhausting and oddly entertaining. He’s never seen anyone so concerned about breaking every single rule.

“Ah, You!” Crowley calls out, catching you just as you’re about to dash off with a stack of paperwork. “Do you have the reports I asked for?”

You freeze, turning to him with wide eyes. “R-reports? Oh no, I—I thought I delivered those to Professor Trein!”

Crowley sighs dramatically, putting a hand to his forehead. “Of course, of course. Why must I be surrounded by such incompetent students?”

You fidget, looking down at your feet. “I-I’m sorry, Headmaster… I’ll go get them right away—”

Crowley waves a hand dismissively. “No, no, I suppose it can wait. You do look like you’re about to pass out from all the running.”

Your ears droop, and you mumble, “I-I’m not… I’m just… very busy…”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, do try not to collapse before lunch, won’t you? I can’t have students fainting in my halls.”

You nod, scurrying away. Crowley watches you go, muttering to himself, “Honestly, there's no one more magnanimous than me…”

Divus Crewel:

Crewel is exasperated by your anxious behavior. He wants you to be confident, but instead, you’re always shaking in your boots.

“[Name], if you can’t handle a simple potion assignment, how do you expect to survive in this world?” Crewel says, his tone sharp as he points at your cauldron.

You gulp, ears twitching. “I-I’m sorry, Professor… I just, um, thought I might have put too much wormroot…”

Crewel raises an eyebrow. “Too much? Or not enough? Make up your mind, pup.”

Your eyes widen, and you flinch. “R-right! I-I mean, um, not enough—no, wait…”

Crewel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is hopeless.” Then, with a softer tone, he adds, “Focus. You can do this, but not if you keep second-guessing every move.”

You take a deep breath, nodding. “Y-yes, Professor.”

Crewel watches as you go back to your work, and though he doesn’t say it, there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.”

Mozus Trein:

Trein is generally strict, but even he can’t bring himself to be too harsh with you. Your anxious nature reminds him of some of his more timid students in the past.

“You’re late to class again,” Trein says, giving you a stern look.

You flinch, clutching your bag close. “I-I’m so sorry, Professor… I got lost in the halls again…”

Trein sighs, shaking his head. “You’ve been here long enough to know the way, haven’t you?”

You nod, ears drooping. “Y-yes, sir… I just… it’s the Queen’s court day, and I was trying to avoid… um…”

Trein raises an eyebrow, his expression softening slightly. “Avoid the Queen’s wrath, hm?” He nods, as if understanding completely. “Well, see that it doesn’t happen again. And try to relax. You won’t learn anything if you’re always in a state of panic.”

You bow deeply, almost knocking over your desk in the process. “Y-yes, Professor Trein! Thank you!”

Trein sighs as you scurry to your seat, muttering to himself, “Poor child… so much anxiety…”

Ashton Vargas:

Vargas can’t help but laugh at your feeble attempts at physical activity. You’re about as coordinated as a baby deer—and just as panicked.

“Alright, everyone! Time for a run around the track!” Vargas shouts, blowing his whistle.

You gulp, your ears already drooping at the thought of running. “U-um, Professor Vargas, I’m not sure I’m… physically… capable…”

Vargas claps you on the back, nearly sending you sprawling. “Nonsense! Every beastman’s got it in them! Even you, little bunny!”

You try to protest, but he’s already started the timer. You stumble forward, your legs shaky, and you can hear Vargas laughing from behind.

“Look at that! The rabbit is really running for their life!” Vargas calls out, and the whole class turns to watch you struggle around the track.

You feel your face burn, but you keep running, heart pounding. It’s either run or face Vargas’s motivational speeches again, and honestly, you’re not sure which is worse.

Sam:

Sam loves seeing you in his shop, mostly because you’re so jumpy it’s easy to sneak up on you—unintentionally, of course. He finds your reactions amusing.

“Hello, hello!” Sam calls out as you walk into his shop, and you jump about a foot in the air.

“Ah—M-Mister Sam! I-I didn’t see you there!” you stammer, clutching your chest like your heart might leap out.

Sam laughs, leaning over the counter. “You’re always so jittery, little bunny. Relax! I’ve got just the thing to calm those nerves…” He pulls out a small vial of something labeled “Relaxation Remedy.”

You eye the bottle suspiciously. “Um… t-that’s not… gonna put me to sleep, is it?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Not unless you drink the whole bottle, friend.” He winks. “I’m just lookin’ out for ya, y’know?”

You nod, still unsure but grateful. “T-thank you… I’ll, um… take one, I guess…”

Sam smiles, putting the vial in a bag for you. “No problem, little imp. Come back if you need more!”

You nod, scurrying out of the shop. Sam watches you leave, shaking his head with a grin. “That one’s gonna give themselves a heart attack one day…”

Grim:

Grim likes to think he’s the bravest in the group, but even he can see you’re worse off than him in the bravery department. He likes to boss you around, mostly to feel better about himself.

“Oi, bunny!” Grim shouts, jumping onto your desk. “You got my homework done yet?”

You squeak, nearly toppling out of your chair. “Y-your homework?! Grim, I—I can’t keep doing your work for you…”

Grim pouts, waving a paw at you. “Oh, come on! You’re already nervous all the time—what’s a little extra stress, huh?”

You huff, fidgeting with your pen. “G-Grim, I’m already at my limit! I-I’ve got the Queen’s orders, and Riddle’s rules, and now you want me to—”

Grim interrupts, hopping closer and giving you a smug grin. “Yeah, yeah, I get it, you’re a busy bunny. But you know, if you help me, I’ll… uh, protect you from any monsters! Yeah, how about that?”

You blink, considering it. “P-protect me? From monsters?”

Grim nods, puffing out his chest. “Yup! I’m the Great Grim, after all! I’m basically a professional monster hunter.”

You stare at him, unsure, your ears slowly drooping. “I-I guess… that would be helpful…”

Grim smirks, satisfied. “See? I knew you’d come around!” He jumps off your desk, tail flicking with glee. “Alright, I’ll be back later to pick up my homework. Make sure it’s perfect, okay?”

You sigh, watching him strut away. “H-how did I even get myself into this…?”

Grim doesn’t hear you, already daydreaming about what snack he’ll demand from you next. “It’s good to be the boss,” he mutters, chuckling to himself.

You slump in your seat, wondering if there would ever come a day when you’re not running around doing everyone’s bidding. But then again, you think, maybe that’s just the fate of a White Rabbit…

Masterlist

[marauder-misprint]

Hello, I started reading Harry Potter again and while I was reading The Goblet Of The Fire, something like this came to my mind; Can we read the Christmas ball in the three wizard tournaments during the marauders period? who will invite who as a partner? I would be extra happy if something happens between fem!slytherin reader and Sirius. Maybe she's platonic or she's sure no one from Gryfindor will invite him because they have a secret relationship

.Thank you so much in advance, I love your stories.I hope you will write more, love

Hi! Thank you for the request ❤︎❤︎❤︎ we love a secret relationship, especially between Sirius and Slythering!reader - 10/10, will likely write again

Hope you enjoy!

Going public

Sirius Black x Slytherin!reader

7.1k words

cw: angst, fluff

The announcements for the Yule Ball were posted overnight. Every bulletin board was plastered with them; it was like there was nothing else of importance happening at Hogwarts. It was the talk of the school by the time you reached breakfast. It seemed like the students agreed with the bulletin boards: there was nothing more important. 

Passing the other tables on your way to your usual spot at the Slytherin table, you heard speculation about who the more popular people would be going with. The Prewett twins were a hot topic, as were the Marauders, Gilderoy Lockhart, Anthony Avery, Emmeline Vance, Stubby Boardman and Amelia Bones. 

You were able to tune most of it out. While gossip could be amusing, it wasn’t something you really sought out. 

“I’ll bet you a galleon Potter goes with Evans. He’s obsessed with her,” you heard a Hufflepuff say as you passed by.

Her friend laughed, “Oh, double it! He’ll ask, for sure, but there’s no way in hell that she’s saying yes!”

You stifled a laugh, knowing the second girl was correct. You were more than certain that James would indeed ask Lily to the dance, multiple times most likely, and Lily, having turned down James over and over again, would continue her ‘no’ streak. From what you were aware of, she was nowhere near breaking her resolve. 

“Morning,” Dorcas said as you sat down next to her. “Would you like to talk about the dance, the dance or, real strange this one, the dance?”

You rolled your eyes, reaching for your usual breakfast. Your silence is typical, especially in the morning before you’ve been given proper time to wake up. The girls made conversation around you. 

“Do you think it has to be guys ask girls? Or could I ask someone?” Pandora asked dreamily. She shot a glance over her shoulder toward a certain Ravenclaw. 

“I don’t think there’re rules for a dance. Although if Xeno doesn’t ask you, he’ll have bigger problems coming for him,” Emma Vanity assured her. 

You all knew about Pandora and Xenophilius’ flirtationship. You thought it was ridiculous for her to even consider that Xeno wouldn’t ask her, given the way he searches for her in between classes. 

“But if he doesn’t ask me? How weird would it be if I asked him?”

“Have you ever cared about looking weird?” Dorcas replied.

“Normally, no. But this is the kind of thing that would get back to Mum and Dad. It’s one thing to be concerned about the nargle population, it’s another to break societal norms.” 

“Ah, the nargle population! A real concern for wizard-kind!” Emma laughed.

You shook your head with a smirk. While the three of you often teased some of Pandora’s beliefs, you really loved her and her ways. You also knew it was part of why Xeno liked her. He shared quite a few of her beliefs and he entertained her tendencies to experiment with spells. 

“Anyways, I’m more concerned about what I’m going to wear rather than who’s going to ask me,” Dorcas said. “There’s Gladrags in Hogsmeade, but it’s going to be packed with every girl here. It honestly might be better to order from somewhere else.”

“But then you risk not liking it in person. And there’s not really enough time to return and reorder,” Emma pointed out.

“Ah, that’s why you order more than one dress from the jump. You’re bound to like one of the dresses you order.”

“Or you could just wear one of the dresses you already own?” you offered. 

Pandora and Emma fell into fits of laughter while Dorcas gave you a pitying smile.

“Love, we aren’t going to turn down an opportunity to get a new dress,” Dorcas said. 

You turned back to your breakfast. Part of you wanted to retort that it would be a waste of money to get a dress that you’d wear once, especially knowing they each had several extravagant dresses in their wardrobes. Then you remembered that they each came from far more prominent families than yours. They had money, status and endless ball invites outside of the castle walls. It was something you didn’t relate to. 

So you fell back into your silence. The girls continued with their discussion about the ball. They talked about who Dorcas and Emma hoped would ask them and their dream dresses. The boys on your other side weren’t discussing the dance as far as you could tell. 

“An erumpent would kill you faster than a skrewt,” Avery insisted. 

“You wish that were the case,” Wilkes said. 

“No, no, technically Avery’s right,” Barty said, waving his fork around. “Erumpent, once it decides to attack, will kill you fast, but blast-ended skrewts are vicious and it’ll be a painful death.” 

“What’re you saying, Junior?” Wilkes asked, turning to face the younger boy.

“That it’d be about the same time total, if the clock starts when you encounter the beast.” 

Death by various beasts was certainly… something to talk about over breakfast. You stared down at your plate. Neither conversation intrigued you. 

Then the hair on your neck stood up.

“Who do you think’ll ask Y/N YL/N? Surely another Slytherin, right?” a voice from behind you asked. 

Your eyes widened as you continued to stare at the food on your plate. Of all the people to be discussed, you didn’t think your name would come up. You assume it’s just out of your association with the other Slytherin girls. As likeable as you tried to be, your friends were higher on the popularity ladder. You tried to listen for the voice that said your name or perhaps whoever she was talking to, but you can’t single out that conversation. 

You had an inkling about who might ask you. Sirius Black. You didn’t share this with anyone around you though. They didn’t know you were anything more than polite to him, as you were to just about anyone. They didn’t know about the secret moments you had with him in empty classrooms, hidden corridors, the Astronomy Tower and the Room of Requirement. They didn’t know you and him were dating. Neither did his friends. 

When you and the rest of the girls got up to head to class, you looked towards the Gryffindor table and waved when you made eye contact with Sirius. He waved back. There were enough people still sitting at the four tables and enough leaving that the two of you would risk it. 

“Who’re you waving to?” Pandora asked, looking in the direction you waved. She couldn’t spot anyone you were particularly friendly towards. 

You rolled your eyes with a smile tugging at your lips.

“Can’t a girl have friends outside Slytherin?” 

“Well, yes, but-” Pandora started to say.

“Not nameless friends,” Emma finished for her.

“Nameless friends?” Wilkes asked, pushing his way in between Dorcas and Emma. “Shame their parents never named ‘em.”

“But you have to call them something. How else would they be enrolled here? They’d have to call you something at sorting,” Mulciber said.

“Maybe ‘Hey you’ sufficed?” Evan suggested. He slung his arm over your shoulder. 

“Right,” you drawled sarcastically. “‘Hey you’ is written on their birth certificate.” 

“There are worse things to be called,” Pandora said. 

---

As predicted, James did ask Lily a few days after the ball was announced. She shut him down very quickly. From the gossip you picked up, it sounded like some other guys were planning on shooting their shot with her. You weren’t surprised. She was beautiful and brilliant. 

With nothing more interesting to hold your attention, you ended up listening to more gossip, the who’s going with who. It had only been a few days but girls were getting asked left and right. Muliber was going Emma. Xeno was working you and Dorcas on his plan to ask Pandora. Remus asked Emmeline, which shocked some people. Peter asked Mary. 

You kept your ears open for mentions of Sirius. It didn’t sound like there were any rumors of him asking anyone, although some girls were debating what Pandora had suggested earlier, asking him themselves. Their reasoning was solid, in your opinion. It was Sirius Black! There was no way that he’d go to a dance alone when he could have pretty much any girl he wanted on his arm. 

And that’s what bugged you. So many girls liked him and none of them knew that he was off the market. When you made it official, he stopped flirting, but that didn’t stop him from being his charming self. Some things you can’t change. And some girls don’t know the difference between flirting and simply being kind and charming. 

You knew that there were reasons why you were keeping it a secret. Your friends and housemates would never let you hear the end of it if they knew, plus you risked being shut out by everyone in your house. While dating a Gryffindor in general wasn’t smiled upon, Sirius would be a sin. He was labeled as Blood Traitor #1. 

His friends didn’t know you. They wouldn’t approve and wouldn’t take the time to get to know you. Sirius knew that they would see you as a Slytherin who was no good, just like the rest of his family. They wouldn’t believe that you stood up for younger students against older ones, that you helped people find their way when the stairs changed on them, that you had a certain spark in you that set you apart. 

You both risked ostracization so you kept your relationship quiet. You told each other it was for the time being. You told each other that when it felt right, you’d break the news to your respective friend groups. You knew that as soon as he could tell his friends, you could tell yours. If his accepted you, it didn’t matter if yours resented you; whereas if yours accepted him, it would still matter to him what his friends thought. It was just the reality of it. 

You considered talking to Sirius about the ball the next time you met up. Maybe this would be the time. You could spend the evening with his friends, convince them that you weren’t so bad. 

You let the thought linger in your mind as you waited for Professor McGonagall to dismiss the class. She finished her lecture a few minutes ago and told the class to practice turning cutlery into different apparatuses. Few students actually listened to her. Most were idly chatting. 

“I think Sirius is going to ask McKinnon to the dance,” a voice nearby said. 

Your breath hitched. What? There was no way he would ask her. You trained your eyes on your notes, hoping the girl would continue her thoughts.

“Oh, they would be so cute together! Shame though, I know Shannon was hoping that he’d ask her.”

“Has he ever talked to Shan?” 

“No but a girl can dream, can’t she?”

“I s’pose. But be real! Marlene and Sirius are always with each other. They got chemistry on another level.”

You swallowed thickly at the girls’ comments. It was the first time that you heard anything substantial about Sirius. They had a name and reason to think so. You have never thought about Marlene being interested in Sirius. From what you knew, you had no reason to be worried about her. At least, you didn’t. 

Their comment settled in your stomach and festered. You felt small for the rest of your lessons. You drummed your fingers against your thigh in every class, trying to pay attention but ultimately failing. Your eyes drifted to Sirius or Marlene in each lesson. You hated how much it bugged you, how much you were letting it get to you. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to look toward the Gryffindor table during dinner. If Marlene was sitting within two people of Sirius, you’re positive that you would’ve thrown up. You tried to keep reminding yourself that Sirius liked you. That he was going out with you. That if he was going to take anyone to the dance, he’d be taking you. 

But Marlene was better. She would be someone that Sirius wouldn’t have to hide from his friends. He wouldn’t have to worry if they would approve, she was already one of them. She had nothing to prove. You? You have everything to prove. 

You kept your head down throughout the whole meal. The ball had made its way into the boys’ conversation so even their usual demented topics couldn’t save you. They were teasing each other, those who had dates for being saps and those who didn’t for being cowards. 

“There’s no one I’d want to go with,” Severus said monotonously, keeping his head low.

“Because that mudblood isn’t talking to you anymore,” Avery responded. 

Lily had stopped talking to Severus at the end of last year. It didn’t go unnoticed that he had tried to apologize and win her back, ultimately failing. The boys didn’t let him forget his softness for the girl, especially given her blood status. 

The girls had moved more deeply into their considerations for what to wear. They talked silhouettes, necklines, sleeves, colors, jewelry, shoes and every other accessory. It was every single detail of outfits they had yet to purchase. You assumed that you could just figure it all out when you inevitably went to Gladrags one weekend. 

You didn’t last long at the table. Your mind was set on your meeting with Sirius. You exited the Great Hall by yourself and took a deep breath as soon as you were outside the stifling warmth. You barely made it to the first flight of stairs when you heard your name being called. 

You turned around. “Rosier?” 

He jogged to catch up to you. 

“You’ve been pretty quiet lately,” he said once standing next to you.

You cocked an eyebrow at him and crossed your arms.

“Define lately.” 

He smiled at you. “Well, always. But especially when the dance comes up.”

“Nothing to add, I guess.”

“Why’s that? Seems like every girl has an opinion.”

You shrugged. “Not even sure if I’m going.”

“Again, why’s that?” 

“Not expecting anyone to ask me,” you said slowly, almost regretting it so you kept talking. “And, I mean, it’s no secret that Emma, Dorcas and your families are more… well off than mine. Balls aren’t… something I’m used to.”

Evan opened his mouth to respond but he was cut off.

“There you are, Mr. Rosier!” Professor Slughorn’s voice boomed. “Come on, boy. We need to discuss your career potential!” 

“Shit,” he grumbled. “I’ll find you later, yeah?” 

You gave him a soft, almost-pitying smile as he turned toward Slughorn. You watched him walk away with the short professor before continuing on your way to the seventh floor. You were grateful for Slughorn in that moment. You assumed that Evan was building up to asking you. Thankfully, he never got the question out and now you would be able to talk to Sirius first. You needed to figure out what was going on with you two and the ball. 

You climbed staircase after staircase. Thoughts of Evan’s unasked question and the rumors of Sirius possibly asking Marlene bounced around in your mind. You yearned for the privacy of the Room of Requirement. You couldn’t wait for Sirius to meet you there. You leaned against the wall and let yourself sink to the ground. You knew it would be a while before he showed up; you had left dinner a bit early and he couldn’t just leave his friends with no reason and avoid being questioned in depth later. The coldness of the stone floor was more than welcomed as you waited. 

You perked up the moment you heard his distinctive footsteps approaching. You jumped up, waiting for the door to appear. You slipped inside, Sirius following only moments after. 

He pulled you into a tight hug before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Merlin, I missed you,” he mumbled against your hair.

“I see you in class all day,” you replied with faux-snark.

“Yeah, where the most I can do is wink at you,” he said as his hands rubbed your back.

You melted into his arms. His cologne filled your brain with every inhale. It was enough to make your thoughts go fuzzy. Momentarily, you forgot about Evan, Marlene, the ball and all the gossip that accompanied it. But as soon as he lets you go and takes a step toward the couch and fireplace, they come flooding back. You blame their return on how prominent the ball was in everyone’s conversation. And if you thought on it, you knew that if Sirius was truly asking Marlene, it would be okay for you to go with Evan. 

“Darling, you joining me?” Sirius asked from the couch with his arms held out, ready to hold you close again. 

You nodded and wordlessly moved to join him. He held you close and nestled his face into the crook of your neck. It was comfortable. It was nice. It was everything you needed after days of listening to gossip. He could’ve been seeking out any other girl, but he was here, hiding in the Room of Requirement because he missed you. 

“Long day?” he whispered.

He could feel how tense you were. With every passing second, you relaxed deeper into his arms, but he knew something was eating at your mind. You sighed. 

“Long week.”

He hummed. “Want to talk about it?” 

“Just the ball, Sirius. ‘S all.” 

“That’s all, huh?” 

“Mhmm. The girls refuse to talk about anything else.”

“Any of them got dates?”

“You know Lovegood, from Ravenclaw?” 

He hummed again. 

“Well, he’s asking Dora tomorrow. He’s got a whole thing planned. Vanity and Mulciber are going together. I’m sure Dorcas will get asked any day now.”

“And you?” he asked with a playful tone.

You lightly elbowed his side. 

“I did want to talk to you about that,” Sirius said, sounding more sincere. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to move. You knew you should adjust how you were sitting in his arms so that you could see his face. But you couldn’t. All your muscles felt too tight and air wasn’t properly filling your lungs. You didn’t expect to feel this way. You knew he wasn’t ready to show you off to his friends, and ultimately the whole school, but it still hurt to imagine him dancing with someone else. 

“I… I know you’re planning on asking Marlene,” you manage to say, earning a shocked cough from Sirius. “It… It’s okay. I think that Evan Rosier wants to ask me. I mean, it won’t be the same as going with you, but he’s a friend. It’ll be a… tolerable evening.” 

“Love, what?” Sirius asked, confusing lacing his words as he sat up and turned your body so he could see your face. “Who? What? Marlene? No.” 

Your voice got stuck in your throat. Your mouth moved with no sound. It was the perfect visual of confusion. 

“Rosier? You’re going to go with Rosier?” he asked, his voice quiet with disbelief.

“He… he hasn’t asked yet. And if you’re going with McKinnon…” Talking felt so difficult. 

“No. I’m not asking McKinnon. Where did you hear that?” He immediately held up his hand as you opened your mouth to speak. “Actually, that doesn’t matter. It’s not true. James. James is the one who’s going to ask her.”

“James?” 

Sirius laughed. It was a warm sound that made your heart do flips. 

“James is going to ask Marlene since they both can’t go with who they really want to go with.”

You took a moment to compose yourself. Obviously, James wanted to go with Lily. 

“Who does Marlene want to go with?��� 

“It’s not my place to tell, love. It is my place to tell you that I’d like to go with you.”

You pressed your lips together before pulling one between your teeth.

“But your friends…?” 

He leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

“My friends have figured out that I’m seeing someone. Apparently, I disappear too often-” with the Marauders’ Map “-with consistently horrible excuses,” he told you. 

Even when you met up in the Room of Requirement which doesn’t show up on the map, Sirius made sure to take it with him. He hadn’t been ready to tell them about you. Part of him still didn’t want to. That part liked having you solely to himself. It liked sneaking around and the thrill of having a secret. But the rest of him knew it wasn’t sustainable. 

Sirius watched your face for a hint of how you were feeling, and your face said you were unconvinced. 

“They know when I’m lying… and…” Sirius’ face flushed. “They said I’ve had a lovesick look on my face far too often for there not to be a girl.” 

He knew that that would convince you. A grin took over your face.

“A lovesick look?” you repeated teasingly. “You’ve had a lovesick look on your face?”

“When I come back from being with you. And whenever I think about you. Especially when I think about kissing you-” He pressed a kiss to your nose. “-and how beautiful you are-” A kiss to your forehead. “-and how funny-” A kiss to your cheek. “-and how brilliant-” A kiss to your jaw. “-and kind-” A kiss to your neck. “-and perfect.” He continued peppering kisses down your neck and onto your collarbone. 

You threw your head back with giggles spilling out of your mouth. The jealousy you felt about the idea of Sirius with Marlene dissolved into nothingness. You placed your hands on the sides of Sirius’ face to hold him away from you for a moment. 

“If Rosier gets around to asking me, I’ll tell him I already have a date,” you said before connecting your lips to Sirius’. 

“Good,” he mumbled through the kiss. 

---

“Padfoot!” James yelled as soon as Sirius returned to the Gryffindor Common Room later that evening. “Where the hell have you been?” 

Sirius couldn’t wipe the pleased smirk off of his face. He strode over to the couches by the fire and collapsed unceremoniously next to James. 

“Asking my girl to the ball.”

Both Lily and Remus sat up from their respective chairs nearby at that. Remus leaned toward the couches as much as he could without getting up.

“So you’ll tell us who it is then?”

“He has a girl? Like a committed relationship?” Lily gasped. 

“Oh, Evans, you’re here. Erm, yeah. I do. And you’ll figure out who it is when I walk into the dance with the hottest date.” 

Remus slouched back into his chair at that. Ever since they got him to confess that he had been going to see a girl, singular, the same one each time, the three boys had been dogging him about it. They searched for any hint, any clue, an inkling of an idea as to who you were. They had… nothing. Well, nothing besides that you weren’t a Gryffindor. They were fairly certain that Sirius wouldn’t be so secretive about you if you were a Gryffindor. 

“Seriously making us wait until Christmas to know who you’ve been sneaking around with?” James groaned. 

Sirius nodded. “I am Sirius, after all. Got to live up to the name.” 

Peter threw a crumpled piece of parchment at Sirius.

“Black, how is this the first I’m hearing of this?” Lily asked as she turned her full body to be facing the couches. “How long have you been in a committed relationship?”

“Oh, don’t feel bad, Lily,” Peter said from the armchair. “We only found out like a week or so ago.”

“Black?” she repeated.

He ran a hand through his hair before looking at Lily. 

“Made it official at the start of term.”

Lily gasped, grabbed her own bit of parchment to crumple and toss at Sirius.

“Oi! I am not a rubbish bin!”

“You are too when you’ve been seeing someone since September!”

“It gets worse the longer you think about it,” Remus pointed out. “They made it official in September. Meaning they were flirting and whatever for some time before.”

“Merlin… And you lot have no clue who it is?” 

“Nope,” Sirius answered for them, looking satisfied with himself. 

“Why not?” Lily pressed. She looked like she was about to move her chair closer to the couch so she could properly interrogate Sirius about his girlfriend. 

“Yeah, why not? You’ve never given a good answer,” James said, sitting up a bit. 

The four of them had their eyes glued to Sirius, watching his every move as he tried to think of something that wouldn’t give too much away. 

“It… would… ruffle some feathers. It will ruffle some feathers. But, we figured the ball is a good time to go public. So you’ll wait until then.” 

Lily narrowed her eyes at Sirius. The gears in her head were spinning. She put away the homework she had been working on. There was no way she could focus now, not with this mystery brought to her attention. There was a girl in the school with Sirius all to herself. This girl got Sirius to mature enough to commit. Lily needed to know who it was. 

---

You listened with more intent the next time that Emma, Dorcas and Pandora brought up the dance. Xeno asked Pandora and she obviously said yes. Dorcas was asked by Bertram Aubrey, not her first choice but a respectable one as Pandora and Emma assured her. You hadn’t gotten around to mentioning that you had a date to the girls. It wasn’t like they asked you either. 

You started asking their opinions on what color would look best, which silhouette fits your body shape, how to accessorize. It was a slight sprinkling of questions. Their excited answers told you that they were happy you were finally taking an interest in the ball.

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure if you were even going to go,” Emma told you. “You seemed pretty against it for a while.”

“I mean, I was debating not going. Wasn’t sure if it was my type of event.”

“What changed your mind?” 

“Oh, did Evan finally ask you?” Pandora asked, joining the conversation. 

You looked at her with wide eyes and shook your head. “Erm, no. Guess he never got ‘round to it…” You pause to take a steadying breath. “Would you mind telling him that I already have a date?” 

“I’m not lying to him. If you’re not interested, you have to tell him!” Pandora said defensively. 

“No, I really already have a date,” you said, hoping that you sounded genuine. 

Which you were. You just needed the girls to know what you were without saying that Sirius was your date. He had told you that he wouldn’t tell his friends until the ball and if you told your friends, word would spread fast. 

“Who? You’ve never mentioned…” Emma asked, twisting her features in confusion. 

“It’s… a surprise. I promise I have a real date. He’s very real. Just… not a Slytherin.”

“No. Come on, out with it,” Pandora said, placing her hands on her hips. “Ev is a perfectly fine bloke. You can handle an evening with him.”

“I totally agree with you, Dora. But I already have a date and I plan on attending the ball with him.” 

You looked between the two girls. You weren’t lying, so why did they seem so insistent on believing that you were? You didn’t have anything against him. You knew that they knew that. You just didn’t want to have the awkward conversation of telling him you were already going with someone if Pandora, or Emma really, could’ve passed on the message for you. 

Then Dorcas appeared at your side and you instantly gave her a pleading look.

“Dorcas! Would you tell Evan not to ask me to the ball?” you asked.

“Why would I do that? Don’t you want a date? We all have dates.” 

You threw your head back with a groan.

“I already have a date. These two don’t believe me and I really, really don’t want to be the one who has to tell Evan.”

“Tell me what?” a male voice said from behind you.

“Ev!” Pandora exclaimed. “Man of the hour! She has something to tell you.”

“Let’s go, give ‘em some privacy,” Emma said, grabbing Pandora and Dorcas’ arms. 

“No!” you practically cried as they disappeared around the corner of the corridor, leaving you alone with Evan. You groaned. 

“Damn, am I that horrible to be around?” he asked nervously.

“No, you’re not,” you said, feeling horrible already. “That’s the problem. You’re really a fine bloke.”

“Oh,” he said, his voice dropping. “I think I know where this is going… It’s not you, it’s me.” He laughed dryly. “I didn’t even have to ask.”

“Evan… It’s just that I’ve already been asked.”

“But, just the other day… When Slughorn pulled me away… You said…”

“I didn’t think he would ask.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Didn’t you know that I was going to ask you? Why’d you say yes to someone else if you knew I was about to ask you if fucking Slughorn-?”

You hated the feeling in your chest. It was horrible. You had to explain to him that it was more than just someone else asking. 

“I’ve been seeing someone. In private. I wasn’t sure if we were going to go and… well, we’ve decided to go.” 

“Oh,” he said, suddenly more curious than feeling bad for himself. “So private that even Dora doesn’t know?”

“No one knows. And, I’d like to keep it that way.” 

Evan studied your face. He sighed and let his expression drop to a blank canvas. Then he walked away. You weren’t sure how to feel about it. You wished he had said something before walking away, instead of just leaving your request sit in the air. You stood there for a moment before deciding to go to the library. You figured no one would bug you there and you could just think about how you were going to navigate everything once you showed up to the ball on Sirius’ arm. 

---

Despite the near incessant pestering from your respective friend groups, neither you nor Sirius broke down. The main difference between your friend groups was that the Gryffindors fully believed that you existed. They were certain that there was a girl that Sirius kept sneaking off to spend time with. Your friends didn’t believe Sirius existed. Surely, they would’ve noticed not only sneaking off but the emotional changes from you. To avoid making them see that they might be bad friends, you repeatedly told them that you’re just that good of an actress. What’s the point of a secret relationship if everyone knows about it? 

The girls had helped you pick out a lovely black dress that made you look divine. They offered you some of their accessories when you put your foot down at spending a fortune on a matching set of diamond earrings and necklace. It was safe to say that you looked goddamn amazing as you twirled in front of the mirror in your dorm.

Emma, Dorcas and Pandora showered you in compliments and slight jabs at keeping your date a mystery.

“We’re going to see who it is in just a few minutes. Why can’t you tell us?” Pandora asked as she slid another hairpin in place. 

“It’s the principle of it,” you reminded her. “Are we ready?” 

You led the girls out of your dorm and into the common room, where Emma and Dorcas’ dates were waiting for them. You smiled at Evan and his date, a younger Slytherin who beamed up at him. Looking around the dimly lit room, it appeared that many Slytherins chose dates from their own house. You hooked arms with Pandora and continued walking to the door. If Emma and Dorcas wanted to linger in the common room with their dates, that was their choice. You had a date from a different house.

Sirius was the first one ready, which surprised the rest of the Marauders. They had figured that Remus would’ve been the first, followed by Peter and James with Sirius coming in last. He paced the dorm as he waited for someone else to be ready.

“Padfoot, calm down. Your jitters are contagious,” Peter said, struggling to figure out his cufflinks. “Actually, come here. You clearly know how these work.”

Sirius was more than happy to oblige. It was something to do. He was nervous to finally go public with his relationship with you. He knew that one evening was all his friends needed with you before they realized how amazing you are and would accept you into the group. He just needed this evening to go well. He didn’t want to think about what could all go wrong, which is where his mind kept drifting to every time the dorm fell quiet as the boys dressed and made their final adjustments. 

“Why are you so nervous, Pads? You’ve been dating this girl for months,” James asked as they left their dorm.

Sirius didn’t answer right away. He didn’t want to admit out loud that he was nervous they wouldn’t like you.

“Just a big night.”

“Make note of it, boys,” Remus said with a smirk. “Padfoot won’t be this nervous again until his wedding day.” 

James and Peter laughed while Sirius rolled his eyes. In the common room, couples were meeting up. The girls saw the boys come down the stairs and joined them quickly. 

“Who’d you end up saying yes to?” Remus asked Lily.

She shot a nervous look toward James, but he was already in a new fit of laughter with Marlene as they awkwardly exchanged flowers. 

“Thomas Boot.”

“Oh, maybe he’ll come down with Emmeline! Shall we?” he said, offering his arm to Lily.

She agreed and Sirius followed the two of them out of the room. 

You had agreed to meet up with Sirius outside the Great Hall. Just about every other inter-house couple had the same idea as people gathered outside the large doors. From a distance, you could see the silvery glow emitted from the Great Hall. Snow appeared to be falling out of the doors but never reaching the head of the tallest student. As you got closer, you could see the enchanted icicles and hear the light music that was already playing. 

Pandora started bouncing on the balls of her feet as she scanned the crowd for Xenophilius. As soon as she saw him, she bid you a quick bye before darting in his direction. You bit your lip as you tried to spot Sirius. Your heart was already pounding in your chest. 

This was it. There was no going back to the safety of your private relationship after this moment. You would have to deal with the fallout with your friends and all the harsh words they’d have to say about Sirius. And you’d have to deal with whatever Sirius’ friends had to say about you. You hoped they were kind and compassionate people that Sirius described them as being. 

“Darling, you look… wow. Just wow,” Sirius said, having found you while you were lost in thought.

Worries? You didn’t have any worries.

Sirius’ words brought a blush to your cheeks and a smile to your lips. He had a hand held out for you to grab. You took it and he pulled you close. 

“I have never seen someone look so spectacular,” he murmured against your ear. “How did I get so lucky?” 

“An insane amount of luck,” you teased.

You pulled out of his space for a moment to give him a once over. 

“Rumors are true. You do know how to clean up,” you said before moving back to his side and letting him steer you inside the Great Hall.

“Maybe one good thing did come out of all those balls I was forced to attend in my youth,” he sighed.

You giggled. “You’re still in your youth, you idiot.”

“Oh,” he mock-gasped. “Then maybe we can make another good thing come out of the balls of my youth.”

“What would you like out of this ball, Mr. Black?” 

“The whole castle to know that you’re mine.” 

“Well, we do seem to be headed in the right way for that.” “Fantastic!”

Sirius didn’t leave your side for most of the night. He was glued to your side before the dancing and partying really started, as you milled around the drink and snack tables. His friends found you first. 

“You’re the girl who’s got Padfoot smitten?” Peter gasped. 

You nodded, too nervous to trust your voice. Sirius tightened his grip on your waist to ground you. He knew how much you both had been worrying about this moment. 

“Whose idea was it to keep you a secret?” James asked, looking from Sirius’ face to his hand holding your waist to your shaky smile.

“Yeah, really. Heard from Lily that you’ve been dating all term?” Marlene added.

“I-I think I brought it and he agreed,” you said. Your voice wobbled a little, but you told yourself it would steady as you talked more with the group.

“Where’s Moony and Vance?” James asked, craning his head to look around the hall. “He’s not going to believe this.”

“What’s not to believe?” Sirius asked, sounding affronted. 

“That you got a pretty little Slytherin under your arm, Pads.”

You tensed. There it was. Throwing your house out there like it was a definition of who you were.

“And what about it?” Sirius snapped.

James looked back at Sirius and you with his eyebrows raised. 

“Nothing. Nothing!” James chuckled uncomfortably. “We just… might have… maybe… placed bets on who it was.”

“And we all lost,” Peter added. 

“So who gets the money then? Us?” you asked. 

“I think we should, darling. Mates, how much do we get for being unpredictable?” 

James and Peter groaned in unison. Meeting Remus and Lily resulted in similar amounts of shock that you were a Slytherin but then moved on quickly to jokes. Lily seemed most interested in how you and Sirius came to be, which you told her was probably a conversation saved for another time. You gestured to the ball and she nodded. 

“That wasn’t so bad,” Sirius said as you two made the your way to the dance floor. 

“Think they like me? Or at least tolerate me?” 

“Love, you didn’t bat an eye at the boys betting on who you were. They love you already.” He spun you around before pulling you into him, your back pressed to his chest so he could whisper into your ear, “But they’ll never love you as much as I love you.”

You stumbled as Sirius began to spin you again. Then you were chest to chest.

“Say it again,” you said breathlessly. You couldn’t believe what you heard. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Before Sirius could spin you or dip you or do anything to move you away from his face, you kissed him. It was a moment filled with pure bliss. You were dancing with your boyfriend, kissing him, in public, both looking beautiful, and he just told you that he loved you for the first time. It was perfect.

“It’s fucking Black?” Emma’s voice screeched. 

You pulled back. Both you and Sirius turned to see your roommate looking at you with utter bewilderment in her eyes. Mulciber, who was holding onto her waist, had a look of disgust etched into his face as he took in the scene before him. 

“No wonder you didn’t tell anyone,” she snarled before dragging Mulciber in the opposite direction.

You assumed that she was off to tell everyone else who hadn’t seen you yet. You really hoped that Dorcas and Pandora would take the revelation better. If not, your dorm was about to become the most uncomfortable room in the entire castle, save maybe the common room. 

“If they kick you out of Slytherin, we’ll smuggle you into our tower,” Sirius told you, trying to comfort you.

Your distress was evident on your face. As much as Sirius’ offer lessened it slightly, it was only slightly. You still had another year and a half in this dorm and even if you and Sirius broke up at some point, Emma wouldn’t forget it. 

Then Pandora and Xenophilius appeared next to you.

“Treat her well, Black,” Pandora warned. Then her voice softened as she acknowledged you. “We’ll deal with Vanity later. Enjoy your night.” 

When they disappeared, you relaxed. If Pandora, the one who had been trying to set you up with her brother, could accept Sirius that easily, then Dorcas would follow. Or at least it would be two against two in the dorm. Having one girl in your corner was enough to ease your mind and allow you to enjoy the rest of your night with Sirius.

Dorcas did find you later in the night. She was mumbling about how Aubrey was an utter buffoon and she never should’ve agreed to go with him in the first place. 

She gave Sirius one look before saying, “At least you got a hot one…”

You and Sirius broke out in laughter once Dorcas bolted again with a quick mention of seeing Aubrey coming. Sirius left you with his friends as he went to get drinks. As he had predicted, his friends warmed up to you quickly. You were welcomed into their circle as they bantered with each other, their contagious laughter filling the air. 

After he turned with the drinks, Sirius was with you until he walked you back to the Slytherin Dungeon. Echoes of laughter and faint music filled the corridors as you descended down flights of stairs. 

“Overall, I’d say it was a rather successful night,” Sirius said.

“Successfully a second good thing to come from your youthful balls?” 

Sirius snickered. “Youthful balls.”

You shoved his shoulder while joining in his laughter. 

“You’re a child.”

“A youth, a child. Same thing, right?”

“Apparently so,” you said, unable to prevent yourself from smiling. 

“Well, good night my love,” he said before kissing your cheek. “If it becomes too much down here, password’s feriae munera.” 

Your chest warmed at his offering of the Gryffindor Tower. A ‘just in case’ for the sake of Emma and the rest of the Slytherins who thought Sirius was barely a step above muggle borns. Sirius was the best thing you could’ve asked for.

“Good night, love.”

[yandere-daydreams]

Screening: Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978).

Pairing: Yandere!Carlisle Cullen x Reader (Twilight).

Word Count: 2.1k.

TW: Wildly Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Medical Malpractice, Blood, Controlling Behavior, Deliberate Social Isolation, Misuse of Prescription Drugs, and Generalized Twilight. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

It might’ve just been the isolation getting to you, but you were starting to think that your doctor wasn’t completely human.

Not that you’d ever say so out loud. At best, it was awful thing to think about a man who’d only ever been kind to you and, at worst, it proved yet another symptom to your ever-developing, ever-worsening illness had cropped up and would need further treatment to correct. You knew better than to say things that would make you seem more sick than you already were, but it was hard to stop yourself from lingering on the idea – especially considering you only had books, sleep, and his company to pass the endless time. Admittedly, it’d been a while since you’d seen another person, but you could’ve sworn he was paler than he should’ve been, to the point of bloodlessness. He never ate or drank around you, but sometimes when he spoke, the light would catch on his teeth in a way that made them look too sharp, too prominent. You might’ve been dreaming, but once, after you took your medicine but just before you fell asleep, you swore you saw him taking the cap off of the blood sample he’d taken a few minutes prior, like he planned to do something aside from—

You heard a door open and instantly, your paranoia was dismissed in favor of more interesting stimuli. In this case, that came in the form of your doctor, Carlisle Cullen, stepping into your bedroom, an inhumanly perfect smile already painted across his inhumanly perfect lips.

…maybe you should tell somebody about your little conspiracy. If only to be absolutely sure that you were really losing your mind.

“Good morning,” he said, and it occurred to you that you hadn’t thought to check the time, yet. Your life existed in three states: alone, asleep, and with Carlisle. Only that last one really mattered – the other two could easily be lumped into the same category helpfully labeled ‘waiting for Carlisle’s next visit’. “Have you been keeping yourself busy?”

“I’ve only been awake for a couple hours,” you explained, shrugging as he took his usual seat in the chair left next to your bed. He was always polite enough to ask about the boring details of your day, and you were always embarrassed enough to skirt around just how little you had the energy for. Most of the time, it was all you could do to pull yourself out of bed and yourself to eat before retreating back into your little safe haven. On a good day, you’d be able to go for a walk, maybe respond to a few of the calls you were constantly missing, but most days weren’t very good. “Reading, mostly. Thanks again for the recommendation.”

The book he’d lent you – a dry historical drama with characters as bland as water and a plot as boring as sin – sat open on your lap, but you’d only gotten through half a chapter before giving up. It was hard to believe Carlisle was only a few years older than you, sometimes. You couldn’t imagine how someone who seemed so young could have such awful taste.

Still, he looked pleased, his pleasantly aloof expression taking on a defined note of satisfaction. “It’s important to keep your mind occupied while your body’s recovering. You wouldn’t want to waste all of my hard work by letting yourself die of boredom, now, would you?”

“No, doctor.” It was stupid to try, but he’d set himself up for it. You couldn’t seem to stop yourself, your heart beating just a little faster as you grasped blindly for the impossible. “You know, there’s this friend of mine who keeps asking when she’ll be able to visit, and I thought it might help pass the time if—”  

“You’ll have to find a way to let her down.” Carlisle’s voice was smooth, calm. You did your best not to sulk, but still, he let out a labored sigh, only a touch too professional to roll his eyes. “It’s for the best. It’s good that you stay active, but you know what’ll happen if you overexert yourself, don’t you?”

Vaguely. It was hard to remember the details of your condition, and you weren’t in the mood for another lecture. “I do, doctor.”

“And you’re going to behave your check-up, aren’t you?”

“I am, doctor.”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite patient.” Your compliance was rewarded with a beaming smile, an appeased nod as he pulled his old-fashioned leather doctor’s bag into his lap. “We better make good on that promise before you change your mind, then.”

You didn’t protest. Honestly, you didn’t say much of anything. You never talked during your exam, preferring to let Carlisle go through the necessary motions with as little interference as possible. Instead, he filled the silence with mindless chatter about his children and how they were doing at the local public school, the hospital’s ongoings since you were unofficially discharged, and your favorite – Forks’ particularly colorful smalltown gossip, from the sheriff’s wayward daughter moving back into town to the spike in bear sightings on the local hiking paths. “It’ll be a busy week,” he mentioned, as he finished taking your blood pressure. “You might have some unexpected company, after all.”

At that, you perked up. You met nearly all of Carlisle’s assistants (medical students, you guessed, judging by their ages) by now, and even if you didn’t care for all of them, it was still nice to see someone other than him. Your least favorites were the dark haired twins – the wiry boy who always seemed to be biting back a smirk and the pixie-like girl who always acted like she knew something you didn’t – and you were particularly fond of the blonde girl… Rosemary, or maybe Rosaline. She was nice, compassionate, kind enough to keep you company even when Carlisle wasn’t in the room. More importantly, she brought interesting books – romance and horror, novels like Dracula and Carmilla and Interview with a Vampire, always handing over with a sweet smile and a hushed reminder not to let Carlisle know she was breaking his rules. Looking back on it, you probably shouldn’t have accepted anything she tried to give you. You would’ve hated for her to get in trouble just because she was trying to be nice.

Rather than voicing your overwhelming bias, you watched intently as he slipped the loose cuff off of your arm, tucking it back into his bag and removing something else, something long and silver and sharp. Immediately, your gaze shot back to your lap, your throat going dry in an instant. The next time you managed to spit something out, it was nearly too quiet to be audible. “…is there any chance we could, uh, I don’t know,” You paused, shrunk into yourself. “…skip the phlebotomy, this time?”

Carlisle’s answer was as swift as it was ruthless. An airy laugh, a jagged twist to this smile as he took up the needle properly and turned it over in his hand, looking for defects. It was already attached the glass syringe and, even worse, an empty vial; just a touch bigger than you remembered it being, the day before. “And take that kind of risk? How little do you think of me, (Y/n)?”

“It’s not you, it’s just—I already feel a little faint, and you take one every day, and—” You cut yourself off, inhaling sharply. “I just don’t know if it’s really necessary. Considering how careful you are and everything.”

“You’re right, I am careful. Which is exactly why I have to do this each and every time I come to see you.” He sighed, shook his head – suddenly more of a patronizing, paternal figure than any kind of medical professional, let alone peer. “You understand, don’t you? Without regular testing, your condition may worsen, and if you get any sicker than you are now…” You stiffened as he trailed off, bracing yourself. You knew what came next, what always came next.

“You’ll have to go back to the hospital, angel.”

It was strange, how a voice as smooth and as beautiful as his could be so difficult to listen to.

You didn’t like Carlisle. You hated his condescending smile, his repetitive rambling, his terrible taste in books and his creepy little students. You hated how little he let you do, how he talked about your illness – always skirting around the details, never giving you enough information to know whether you were on the verge of dying or a few days away from making a full recovery. No, when you were honest with yourself, you didn’t like him. Hated him, even.

But you couldn’t go back to the hospital, with its blank white walls and sobbing patients and strange, mind-altering drugs that put your sleep and made you feel like someone was biting into your throat. It’d been a miracle when Carlisle first told you about his domestic services, when he offered to have you discharged in exchange for only the promise that you wouldn’t seek care that didn’t come from him. Arrangements were made, your rent and bills taken over by some nameless, faceless local charity, and for the first time in months, you got to go home. You could live with Carlisle and his once weekly, now daily check-ups. You could live with the fact that you didn’t remember the last time you’d gotten to make a decision for yourself.

And, if you had to, you could live with paying for your freedom in blood, too. As long as it meant you didn’t have to go back to that terrible place.

Once again, you didn’t say anything, but you didn’t resist as he sighed and ran a sterilizing pad over your forearm, the antibiotic strong enough to burn. You clenched your eyes shut, but that did nothing to block out the feeling of a thin elastic band being wrapped around the crook of your elbow, of his needle pushing through your skin and burrowing into the vein underneath it. There was a second of pressure, of knotted soreness, and then, the syringe was gone and you were left feeling just a little colder, just a little more empty than you had before.

Even after opening your eyes, you kept them trained on your lap. You easily could’ve spent the rest of his visit in silence, but metal clinked against glass as he rushed to cap his vial and suddenly, you needed to hear the sound of your own voice. “I think I might be getting paranoid,” you managed, with a breath of a laugh. “For a few minutes this morning, I was able to convince myself that you were… I don’t know, an alien studying humanity, or something.”

“If I was, I’m sure that I would still pick you as the best possible specimen for my examination.” It was hollow comfort, but you smiled anyway, nodding along. Your medication came next, in the form of a small, chalky white pill that you still struggled to swallow under Carlisle’s vigilant gaze. You managed to choke it down, though, and as always, the effects were instant; a sudden clearness, blankness, followed shortly by an exhaustion so thick and so heavy, you couldn’t remember what it’d ever felt like not to be tired. You tried to hold yourself up, but faltered – buckling under your own weight. Carlisle chuckled as he caught you, helping you lay down with a soft squeeze to your shoulder, a feather-light kiss to the top of your head. “Sleep, angel. It’s good for you.” And then, his grin still pressing into your scalp. “And try not to dream about vampires, this time.”

So he did know about Rosalie’s books. Pouting, you shrunk into yourself, letting him drag the comforter over your abruptly immobile body as your eyes eased shut, as he pulled away – a vial of your blood still warm in his hand. It would’ve been impossible to stop yourself from falling asleep, but you managed to stave off unconscious long enough to watch him remove the vial’s carefully applied seal, to unscrew the air-tight cap with the kind of tenderness you’d only seen him use while taking your temperature or petting his fingers through your hair after he thought you were already too far gone to remember. He did a lot of things when he thought you weren’t looking, didn’t he? You’d never really noticed that, before.

Through your eyelashes, you watched him bring the vial to his lips before everything went dark.

[wondrluv]

i would love a part two to the quinn neglecting you blurb :)

✿ CUPID'S FLORAL SHOP ✿

here's a freshly picked restless rose 🌹 !

warnings: quinn feeling like an ass, wrote on my phone so i don’t know how grammatically correct this is

word count: 740

florist cupid: the long awaited part two ! i’m so glad everyone liked this, i honestly didn’t think it would go crazy the way it did but im thankful it did.

it was about an hour that quinn was out of the apartment, thoughts racing through his head as he walked down the street. he’d shoot a weak smile and give a small wave to those who called out his name, even stopping to sign something once and a while.

but for the most part, he spent his time in his own headspace, thinking about the vents that had happened in the past couple hours. he’d been neglecting you for weeks. how could he not haven seen it?

at some point during his walk he stopped outside a flower stand, eyes trailing over each and every flower, finally settling on a small bouquet of one of your favorite flowers, making small talk with the older lady who was working the stand.

“special date tonight?”

quinn looked at her sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, “no i uh… kind of messed up.”

the lady gave him a knowing smile, finishing wrapping the flowers nicely. it was silent for the next few moments before she handed the bouquet to him. he went to take out his wallet but the woman just shook her head with a fond look on her face, “don’t worry about it.”

quinn fumbled, almost dropping his cash on the ground, “are you sure? i couldn’t just-“

“is she important?”

he nodded instantly, “yeah, most important person in the world. she um-“ he let a smile tug at his lips and tears prick his eyes, “she’s everything to me.”

“then it’s no big deal. you only get one of those girls, don’t lose her now.”

quinn thanked her again, walking away from the stand, but not before slipping money into the small jar.

━。゜✿ ゜。━

when he got back to your shared apartment, he played with the zipper of his jacket for a few moments before sliding the key in and unlocking the door.

you hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch the whole time he had been gone, you were too engrossed in your thoughts to move.

the sound of the lock unlocking stirred you from trance, snapping your head to look at the door.

quinn looked even more tired than when he had left, his hair messy as if he had been running his hands through it nonstop on his walk.

your eyes found the flowers in his hands, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you spoke softly, “quinny.”

he gave you a weak smile, slipping his shoes off and walking over to where you now stood. he handed you the flowers, the fingers on his free hand intertwining with yours.

he leaned down, letting your forehead rest against his. he played with your fingers, his and yours breathing being the only sound you could hear.

“they’re beautiful… thank you.”

“i’m sorry.”

you peered up at him through your eyelashes, taking in his guilty expression. you detangled your hand from his, reaching up to cup his face, rubbing your thumb across his cheek, “quinn-”

“i’m sorry.” he repeated, placing his hand on your hip to draw you closer to him, “i shouldn’t have pushed you aside, i shouldn’t have been so absorbed in the team and i should’ve been taking care of myself. you’re the most important person in my life and i wouldn’t have even been able to get through this past year without you, i shouldn’t have taken you for granted.”

you didn’t say anything, you couldn’t. tears welled in your eyes as you listened to him talk, hanging on every word he said. you knew he was sorry, you knew he didn’t mean to do this, but he did and it happened.

it was a rough patch in your relationship, but you would get through it, you knew you would.

he frowned when he saw the tears in your eyes, moving his hand to grasp yours again, “don’t cry, please. you know i hate when you do, especially if it’s because of me.”

he took the flowers from your hand, placing them down on the coffee table to bring you into a hug, cradling your head to his chest.

“i’ll make it up to you, i promise even if it’s the last thing i do.”

“don’t need to make it up to my quinn,” your fingers grasped at his sweater, clutching it like a lifeline. “you’re here now, and you apologized, not that you needed to, but that’s what matters. you’re here now.”

back to the shop ! ; navigation !

[targaryenluvs]

— newcomer

pairing: dark!luke castellan x childofaphrodite!reader

summary: luke becomes quite infatuated with you, the newcomer of the camp.

tw: obsession, stalking, distancing from friends, intimidation, luke is like deep in love, my horrible attempt at describing love? kinda lovebomby, mentions of violence/luke attacking others

word count: 1k words

a/n: my second pjo fic! i think percy is next 👀 - i don’t think i outright described a female reader, let me know if i did so i can change it!! i i’m going to try and be more inconspicuous with genders to fit all ❤️

right from the start, luke could tell there was something special about you.

of course he was to introduce himself to the new kids but for once he wanted to meet you. with a warm smile and his reassuring words, you were made to feel at home quite quickly.

you’d thought of luke being friendly in general before learning of the hermes cabin and his welcoming nature, but it didn’t seem to change anything between the two of you. luke was an excellent guide in your eyes, helping you settle into your new life, you were undeniably thankful for him.

he was a pitstop for many, if not all campers once they entered the place, a familiar face to help them all. but for you he seemed to go above and beyond. he wanted you to be as comfortable as possible, and he believed himself to be the key in your life at camp half-blood to happiness. you made him happy.

your bright smile and endearing personality melted his heart, you were a breath of fresh air and he couldn’t wait to bask in it.

even after you were claimed, by aphrodite nonetheless, you stuck around. it made sense to him, you were the most breathtaking person he’d ever seen. whether it was a smile from afar or a long conversation, you always made it a point in your day to spend time with him.

you wouldn’t do that for nobody now would you?

no, your sweet self was kind, especially to him. you liked him, like he liked you, and he’d be damned if he let you go.

you seemed to be the only person who didn’t notice his disdain towards those around you. the way he’d linger around the ares boy who’d been chatting you up at breakfast, the same boy who’d been attacked from behind during capture the flag, suffering a nasty slice on his back.

or how he’d humiliated one of your friends during archery, correcting their stance, taunting their attempts to hit the bullseye, throwing them off and laughing at them when they missed. it was all in good fun, right?

he was like a shadow, unwavering and lurking.

it wasn’t uncommon to find luke a few metres away from wherever you were. to find him accompanying you to dinner, to find the two of you practicing together early in the morning, alone, to focus better of course. slowly but surely he wriggled his way back into your life, all consuming and prominent.

until it was seen as odd to find you alone.

seemingly tied together, woven, meant to be. you completed him, you made him feel alive. you made luke feel electric, on fire almost. your presence and touch began to comfort him most, your voice being the only one to bring him down.

and when you were taken from him, whether by others or in general, he was unbearable.

the shining luke castellan crumbled without his support. he needed you, depended on you, like fire and oxygen, plants and sunlight, a song and dance. you kept him going, you filled his life with purpose, he wasn’t luke castellan, son of hermes, counseller, confidante, friend.

he was lu, he was yours, he was your ‘sunshine’.

and as if he wasn’t already insatiable with you as his friend, when you’d admitted your crush on him, luke was on a whole other level.

“lu,” he hummed, turning his head your way, “i want, i need to tell you something.” the soft grass, the warm sun and gentle breeze, they all calmed his erratic heart. what did you have to say? he despised the idea of not knowing what you were thinking.

luke waited with bated breath, his nails digging into his palm, pressure building, his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, not that you’d notice, he wouldn’t let you. “what is it sweetheart?” the two of you were sitting now, previously laid next to eachother on the picnic blanket.

“i think, i think i like you.”

and how could you not?

luke was the epitome of a gentleman, the kindest man you’d ever met. he made you feel special, you could always rely on your sunshine. in the months the two of you had known each other, it seemed he now knew you like the back of his hand. what you liked, what you disliked, the places you wanted to go and the places you’d been. you’d bared your soul to him, and you could only pray he loved you as you did him.

he was your strength, your courage, your friend, even if you hoped for more. he’d been there for you since the start, and you’d be forever grateful. so why not raise your relationship? fully commit to the one person who knew everything?

he’d crafted himself to be yours, to be everything you could ever wish for, as you were for him. luke had been waiting for your complete devotion, and he had it now, no one could make him let go. people often came and went in his life, leaving him in the past, he often felt taken advantage of, he gave up on the idea of someone to stay.

but you’d stay, blind with devotion and poisoned by his love, who on earth and in the heavens could treat you better than him?

your loyal luke.

“well i have a secret for you, only you.”

your eyes lifted to meet his, a small smile on your lips, “tell me luke,” his hand reached for yours, “what’s your secret?” your favourite flower, suddenly pulled from behind your head, placed behind your ear.

“i love you too.” he surged forwards, capturing you by surprise.

was this bliss? is this what it felt to be in love?

luke was intoxicating, his strong hands and loving voice, it consumed you. it was all so much, and it was all you’d ever wanted.

but a small voice in the back of your head was prominent.

you’d never said a single thing about love.

[writingpandagoth]

Hiii, I wondered if you could write a Young! Severus Snape x fem!reader, during their years at Hogwarts.

Reader is kind of Severus's protector, she tries her best to keep him away from trouble like the Marauders' bullying or not get himself killed by his Potion experiments

Until one day they end up trapped in a broom closet and feelings come out to light

Hope this is up to your liking.

Sticky Situations

You weren’t looking to make friends, and neither was he.

It was in third year when you’d stayed after class to argue with Professor Slughorn about a complicated brewing method. You hadn’t realized someone else had lingered too—quiet as shadow, dark hair in his eyes, scribbling something intense into a battered Potions book.

"You were right," he said suddenly, not looking up. "About adding the dittany after the root stabilizer. Most students miss that."

You blinked. "Thanks. I didn’t know you were listening."

"I always listen. Especially when people are correct."

That was your first real conversation with Severus Snape.

Over the next years, you gravitated toward each other like gravity had a plan. Long evenings spent trading potions notes, skipping dinner to experiment with ingredient ratios, quiet companionship during study sessions in the library. He had sharp opinions, a sharper tongue, and an uncanny knack for knowing when you needed silence instead of words.

And somewhere in between whispered theories and ink-smudged hands, something began to bloom.

But neither of you said anything.

Because the friendship you had was —safe. And risking it felt like trying to bottle a star.

You hated Thursdays.

You were heading back from the library when you overheard two Ravenclaws murmuring in the hallway—something about the Marauders cornering Snape again, this time near Greenhouse Three.

Your blood turned cold.

You didn’t even think. You ran.

You could hear them before you saw them. Laughter. Jeering. Then—

"Come on, Snivellus, tell us how you got so greasy—did you fall in your own cauldron again?"

"Maybe he brews his own shampoo in his spare time— but must’ve messed up the recipe."

You rounded the corner just in time to see James Potter shoving Severus backward while Sirius Black leaned in with that same awful smirk. Severus’s bag was spilled across the grass, his wand somewhere out of reach, lip bleeding, fists clenched but shaking.

Your vision flashed red.

“Hey!”

All four Marauders turned.

You didn’t stop. You stormed forward, shoving James hard enough that he stumbled back a step. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Sirius opened his mouth to quip something, but one glance at your expression made him think twice.

“Get lost,” you snapped. “All four of you. Now.”

James scoffed. "We were just—"

"Harassing someone who was minding his own business?" You took another step. "You’re so proud of yourselves, ganging up on someone just because he is better at Potions than you’ll ever be? Brilliant work, really. You’re all a bunch of cowards."

Remus looked uncomfortable. Peter was already backing off.

Finally, with a mocking bow, Sirius muttered, "Touchy, aren't we?" before turning on his heel. James followed with a glare. The others trailed behind.

You dropped to your knees beside Severus.

"I should’ve hexed them" you muttered, brushing hair from his face.

"That would’ve gone well," he said dryly, wincing.

"Better than you bleeding in the grass," you snapped.

He tried to wave you off, but you were already digging through your satchel for your emergency healing kit. You always carried it. Always.

You cleaned the blood on his lip, jaw tight, voice low. "They got to stop targeting you like it’s their hobby and you! Do you have a death wish or are you just too bloody stubborn to avoid those idiots?"

He didn’t answer. Just let you dab at the cut, his eyes on yours, unreadable.

"I don’t need you fighting for me," he said after a long moment.

"Then stop giving me reasons to."

Your hand hovered at his jaw a second longer than necessary.

He didn’t pull away.

You just kept patching him up, pretending your heart wasn’t trying to crawl out of your ribs.

The silence between you stretched, thick with everything unspoken. Your fingers slowed against his skin, lingered. His eyes never left yours—until they did. He was the first to look away.

"Thanks," he muttered, voice rough, almost guilty.

Your chest ached.

"Don’t thank me," you said softly. "Just stop letting them get to you."

He didn’t answer. But his hand brushed yours as you packed up your kit, and it stayed there just a second too long.

It was past curfew when you slipped into the Potions classroom with Severus. He’d talked you into it—something about a new Potion Theory he wanted to test and needed your assistance for it. Which made no sense because Severus Snape never need assistance and you both knew it.

You weren’t sure what the real reason was but you didn’t question it and just went along.

He set up the ingredients with practiced care, adjusting flame levels and jotting down notes. You perched on the edge of a desk nearby, your legs swinging slightly as you watched him.

Every few moments, your eyes drifted around the empty classroom.

"You know," you said lightly, "I think that painting on the wall has been staring at me funny all year. Think it's judging my fashion choices."

Severus didn’t respond. He was watching the potion but his eyes would flicker over to you every minute.

"Oh Merlin," you added, peering at the back shelf, "is that Slughorn’s first cauldron? It looks like it survived a Goblin rebellion. How did I never notice it.“

Severus’s quill hovered in place. His jaw tensed.

You turned to glance at him, only to find him staring—not at the potion, but at you.

"You’re staring," you teased hopping of the desk and walking closer.

He blinked, caught. "You’re distracting."

You grinned. "And you make weird faces when you concentrate."

He scowled. "I do not."

He glanced at you again—at the curve of your smile, the way your eyes sparkled in the low light, the way your fingers brushed your hair back behind your ear.

That’s probably why he got distracted and looked back at the cauldron too late.

The flame beneath it had flared—too high, too fast.

The surface of the potion bubbled violently, thick froth rising with ominous speed.

"Sev—"

BOOM.

You tackled him backward just as the cauldron exploded, a wave of hot, sticky potion goo splattering the walls, the floor, and the space where you’d both just been.

You landed hard against his chest, your arms around him, the breath knocked out of both of you.

When you opened your eyes, you were still holding him.

And he was staring at you like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

Neither of you moved.

The heat from the explosion clung to your skin. Your eyes met his, wide and breathless.

And then your gaze dropped—to his lips.

Just for a second.

And then again.

You didn’t even realize you were leaning in, not fully. Just enough to feel his breath on your mouth. Just enough that your heart forgot how to beat normally.

He didn’t say a word.

But his hands gripped your waist tighter.

Neither of you breathed.

A sound down the corridor—harsh footsteps, the unmistakable scrape of Filch’s voice barking out a confused curse.

"What was that noise?"

Your heart jumped into your throat.

Severus’s eyes widened.

You both scrambled up, still covered in goo, breathless and flushed.

Grabbing his hand you ran.

Down the hall, around the corner—nearly skidding into a suit of armor. Your hand never left his. Behind you, Filch's voice grew louder, more frustrated.

You tried not to laugh. It was ridiculous. It was reckless. And it was so very you and Severus.

"In here!" you whispered, yanking open the nearest door—a narrow broom closet half-hidden behind a dusty tapestry.

Severus didn’t hesitate.

You both squeezed inside, and the door clicked shut just as Filch’s footsteps echoed behind you.

You could hear each other breathing.

The space was dark, tight, your fronts pressed together, your back nearly touching the door.

Neither of you spoke.

Not yet.

Footsteps passed. A muttered curse. Then nothing.

You exhaled, your breath brushing his neck, a small, disbelieving laugh escaping. "That was almost impressive."

He chuckled, deep and low. "You tackled me."

"You’re welcome."

He reached for the door. It rattled.

Didn’t budge.

Silence fell again, but this time it was heavier. Denser.

You were pressed against him—chest to chest, thigh to thigh. The cramped space left no room to pretend it wasn’t affecting you.

Your breath slowed. So did his.

You shifted slightly, trying to ease the ache that was starting to build in your knees from standing.

But no matter what you couldn’t get comfortable in the cramped up space.

His voice, rough with restraint, whispered, "Stop." 

You froze. Your gaze found his in the dark.

You could feel the way his heart was racing. Or maybe it was yours.

You kept shifting, trying to breathe, trying not to think about how warm he was, how good he smelled, how close his mouth was to yours.

He growled again, lower this time—desperate. "Stop moving."

"Why?"

He hesitated, jaw tight. "Because you’re driving me mad. And if you keep doing it—I might do something we can’t undo."

You stared up at him, breath caught between your ribs.

"Like what?"

You shifted again, your hand brushed his chest, just slightly and your breath brushing his chin.

And something in him snapped.

In one sudden motion, Severus gripped your waist and pressed you back against the door. The air left your lungs. And before you could even ask what he was doing—

He kissed you.

Fierce. Breathless. Full of years of silence and longing and buried want.

It stole the floor out from under you.

By the time he pulled back, you were dazed, your fingers still twisted in the fabric of his shirt.

„This.“ His voice was deeper than you ever heard it.

You blinked. "Please… tell me this means something to you? if you’re not serious—tell me now. Because I’ve had feelings for you for so long and if you don’t mean this I—"

He kissed you again. Slower this time. Surer.

When he pulled away, his voice was low and ragged.

"I’ve never meant anything more in my life. I’ve loved you for years. I’ve wanted to do this for years, but I was too much of a coward to risk losing you.“

You didn’t know how long you stayed in that confession-drunken quiet, hands still tangled in his robes, his thumb brushing your cheek.

He leaned closer again kissing you once more.

Desperate. Careful. Fierce and trembling. Like he’d dreamed of it, like he couldn’t believe it was real.

You melted into him.

But eventually—

CLANG.

The closet door creaked.

And the unmistakable voice of Argus Filch groaned, "Well, well, what 'ave we here?"

You both jumped, blinking into the sudden burst of light as the door swung open.

Filch wrinkled his nose. "Covered in potion goo, sneakin' 'round after curfew, snoggin' in a broom cupboard… I’ve seen things in here, but this—"

You barely heard him.

Because Severus took your hand in his and you were both trying not to laugh.

Detention was a certainty. A lecture even more so.

But when Severus glanced down at you, eyes soft and a rare smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, he whispered, "Worth it."

You nodded, heart full.

"Completely."

[keeryhours]

real love, baby - chapter two

Billy Hargrove x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Billy Hargrove Masterlist

Summary:

You have another talk with Billy, and remember your first time together.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), Pregnancy, angst, talk of abortions, p in v, fingering, oral (m receiving)

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N:

I’m so excited you guys are digging this series 💕 Thank you so much for your support!

6 Weeks Pregnant

Being pregnant was weird. You were only six weeks along, but it felt like so much had changed already. Your period never came, obviously, which was honestly a welcome change. You got sick regularly, which was much less welcome. Your boobs hurt and were definitely bigger. You were so bloated your jeans didn’t even fit anymore. And you were crying over everything.

Especially Billy. You cried over him so hard that night you made yourself sick, your face and eyes red and your head aching. You knew it was a possibility that he wouldn’t stick around, but the things he had said to you…that he wanted you to get an abortion and wouldn’t be there at all. You were really on your own. You couldn’t expect someone else to be a dad in his place.

How were you supposed to do this with no help? No money, no job, not even done with high school. You knew your parents wouldn’t help. You dreaded them finding out, knowing it wouldn’t go well. At least you could hide it for a while longer.

You couldn’t even let your parents find out about you getting sick, because then they’d want to take you to the doctor before you could stay home from school. So instead you dragged your weary body to school, enduring the stares and whispers from your classmates.

At least you had Eddie. Eddie, who never left your side and stood up for you any time someone had the guts to say something to your face. The whole school assumed he was the father, anyway. Eddie didn’t mind. And it’s not like you could correct them. Billy still acted like he didn’t know you.

Carol and her bitch friends were the worst. You hated them. They were constantly staring at you, whispering and giggling to each other as they popped their bubblegum and twirled their hair. Their fake sweet voices as they taunted you - “How’s the baby?” “Aww, are you still feeling sick? I heard that goes away in the second trimester.” “Is Eddie excited to be a daddy?”

You wanted to punch them in their stupid smug faces. Maybe if they knew who the father really was, they’d have less to say.

Sometimes you thought about telling them. You thought about rubbing it in their faces, throwing Billy to the wolves and letting the whole school know yeah, Billy Hargrove fucked The Freak.

Their speculations about Eddie weren’t entirely unfounded, but they didn’t know that. There was nothing romantic between you and Eddie, but you had lost your virginities to each other around a year ago. It was more of a You’re my best friend and I trust you kind of situation rather than a passionate, romantic one. And you hadn’t done it again. It had been incredibly awkward the next day. And he was most definitely not this baby’s father.

You examined your body in the mirror every morning, wondering when you’d start to see a change. You would splay your hand across your stomach, affectionately almost. You admitted you were growing attached to the little baby growing inside. That’s why you couldn’t agree to an abortion. You somehow felt love for the tiny little guy already.

The next time you interacted with Billy, it was days after he found out. You were headed out of school to meet Eddie again when he pulled you aside beside the school. He looked around, making sure no one was anywhere within eyesight.

“So?” He said, whispering urgently.

You looked at him confused, your eyebrows furrowed. “So, what?”

He huffed a humorless laugh, looking away from you like he couldn’t believe you. “Are you getting the abortion? I told you I’d pay for it. I’ll take you, whatever. I’ll take care of it.”

You shook your head. “Billy, no. I don’t want an abortion.”

Billy stared at you like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. He rubbed his hands over his face, frustrated. When he looked at you again, he looked pissed. “Come on, man. Don’t fuckin’ do this.”

“Don’t fucking do what?” You asked, keeping your voice down even though you were exasperated. “It’s my body. It’s my baby.”

Billy leaned forward. “It’s our baby,” he hissed, “Remember? I have a say in this too.”

“But you don’t get to tell me to have an abortion!” You huffed a disbelieving laugh. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“You don’t understand what this is going to do to me,” he said. “It’s going to ruin my reputation-“

“As if mine isn’t already ruined,” you said angrily. “It always has been.”

“It’s going to ruin my chances of getting out of here and going home to California,” he continued without missing a beat. “And- you have no idea how my dad is going to react.”

You looked at him. You didn’t know anything about Billy’s family, he never offered any of that information. All you knew was he had a little sister at the middle school he drove home most days. You realized you didn’t know much about Billy’s life at all.

“I mean- we can get through this. If you help me, we can be okay.”

Billy laughed again, the kind of laugh that sent chills through your body and made you feel sick to your stomach. “There is no we. If you don’t want the abortion, you’re on your own. So think hard about it.”

He turned and left then, leaving you standing alone. Again.

Before

It was your average day at school - hell. You were ready to get home and away from all these people, to work on your D&D campaign with Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, and Grant.

The hallway was deserted as you grabbed your stuff from your locker - you liked to linger in the library until most of your classmates had already left. Your guard was completely down, so it made you jump when you heard someone call your name from behind you.

You turned to see Billy Hargrove of all people. He was pretty new to Hawkins and already the most popular guy in school. You had never interacted with him before, so you were confused as to what he’d want from you.

“Hey,” he said with a cocky smirk as you faced him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Um…hi?” You said. You looked around the hall, seeing if Carol or Tommy or Tina were hiding somewhere, setting you up.

“I was thinking you might want to go out with me sometime?” He asked, suave smile on his face.

“Me?” You asked, eyebrows raised. “Go out with you?”

Billy chuckled, looking away before his eyes landed back on you. “Yeah. Maybe we could go for a drive?”

You looked around again. “Now?”

“Sure,” he said. “Or I could pick you up tonight.”

You stared at him. “You’re fucking with me.”

“I’m not,” he said with a laugh. He moved closer, placing a hand on the locker next to your head and leaning in closer to you. “Do you not know how hot you are?”

You blushed furiously. No one had ever called you hot before, least of all someone like Billy. In fact, Carol and her friends made fun of you daily and called you a Freak. “Uh…well, I have D&D stuff right now, so…”

Billy laughed again, then gave you his best charming smile. “I’ll pick you up at 7 then?”

Your heart beat wildly in your chest. This felt like a bad idea. It felt like you were being set up. But at the same time…you did have a crush on Billy, just like every other girl in school. You just never thought he’d give you the time of day. You usually saw him lingering around Tina.

“Okay,” you said, voice nearly a whisper. “7 is good.”

Billy smirked, pleased with himself, as you tore a piece of notebook paper and wrote your address. He took it between his pointer and middle finger, holding it up as he walked backwards away from you. “See you then, princess.” Then he turned and left.

You were still reeling from the interaction when you met Eddie at his van. He could tell immediately that something was up.

“What happened?” He asked as you climbed into the passenger seat of his van.

You turned towards him. “Billy Hargrove just asked me out.”

Eddie stared at you, before he started laughing. “Okay, yeah, right.” He started the van, the engine coming to life.

“I’m serious,” you said as he backed out of the parking lot. “He came up to me in the hallway and asked me out. I told him I had Hellfire stuff right now and he asked if he could pick me up at 7.”

Eddie was quiet for a moment. He glanced over at you. “You’re serious?”

“Yes!” You laughed. “I couldn’t believe it either.”

He let out a rush of air. “You’re sure he wasn’t fucking with you?”

“It didn’t seem like it. He…called me hot.”

“Well, you are hot,” Eddie laughed. “At least someone besides me finally recognized it.”

You laughed, pushing lightly at Eddie’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Are you going to go out with him?”

You thought for a moment. “I mean, yeah, I guess so. I gave him my address and told him 7 was okay.”

Eddie hummed. “I just…be careful, okay? You know his reputation. I don’t want him to use you and have to see you hurt.”

You smiled at your best friend. “I know. My expectations are low.”

He laughed, reaching over to pat you on the leg. “Just take care of yourself. And tell me everything tomorrow.”

When Eddie dropped you off at home after Hellfire, it was already 6pm. You sprinted upstairs to your room, thankful that your parents still weren’t home. It was probably date night, or whatever.

You changed out of your jeans and t-shirt from school and rummaged through your closet for something cute to wear. Most of your wardrobe consisted of jeans and band shirts, to be fair. Finally you landed on a cute sundress, black with flowers on it. It fell to mid thigh on you, something a little sexier than you usually felt comfortable wearing.

You went into your en suite bathroom, plugging in your curling iron. You quickly did some light makeup while waiting for it to heat up, then you styled some light curls in your hair. By the time you were done, it was almost 7.

You went downstairs and sat on the couch, nervous as hell as you waited. It wasn’t long before there was a knock at the door, and you jumped up, fixing your hair to perfection as you approached the front door. You opened it to see Billy standing there, having changed since you saw him at school. He wore a button up shirt with nearly half the buttons undone and showing off his toned chest, a necklace laying between his pectoral muscles. He had on his signature tight jeans and black boots. His curly hair looked perfect, like he had gone home and nervously styled it just like you had.

“Wow,” he said, giving you his most charming smile. “You look beautiful.”

You blushed, smiling back at him. “Thank you. You look handsome.”

Billy laughed, then held his hand out for you. “Ready to go?”

“Yes,” you said, trying your best not to sound as nervous as you felt. You took his hand as he led you out of the house, closing and locking the front door behind you. He escorted you to his Camaro, opening the passenger door for you and helping you in. He started the car and began driving.

He turned the radio on, Metallica playing over the speakers. You smiled at the music choice - “I love Metallica,” you said.

“Really?” Billy raised his eyebrows at you with a smile. “Good taste.”

You enjoyed the music as he drove, the evening already turning the skies dark. He drove until he turned down a dirt road, eventually coming up on Lover’s Lake and killing the engine.

Billy turned to you. “I thought we could spend some time out here…where no one will bother us.”

You were nervous. You knew couples only went to Lover’s Lake to make out, and usually more. Eddie was the only guy you’d ever kissed or had sex with.

Billy leaned towards you, his hand coming up to gently push a lock of hair behind your ear. “You really are beautiful, you know that?”

You blushed again, smiling as you turned away from him. “I don’t think that’s true.”

He cupped the side of your face with his large hand, turning your head to look at him. “You are. I wouldn’t just say that.” He leaned forward until his lips were brushing yours, butterflies going wild in your stomach and your heart threatening to beat out of your chest. “You’re one of the hottest girls I’ve ever seen.”

He pressed his lips to yours, and you couldn’t believe what was happening. Billy Hargrove was kissing you. His lips worked against yours expertly, nothing like the awkward, messy kisses with Eddie. His tongue slipped between your lips, insistently pressing against yours. You weren’t as experienced as him so you followed his lead, letting him control the kiss.

He kissed the corner of your lips then down your jaw and to your neck, biting and sucking at the skin there. You’d never felt that before. Your eyes closed and you moaned, feeling Billy’s smirk against your neck.

His hands felt you up over your dress, sliding up your bare thigh then caressing up your side until he was pawing at your tits. The way he moved was so hungry and primal, it made you dizzy.

“Billy,” you moaned, and he nearly growled, biting harder on your neck. His left hand moved back to your thigh and slid up your dress until he was playing with the band of your panties. You gasped when he traced his fingers over your clothed pussy, the material wet from your excitement.

“Already wet for me, huh princess?” He mumbled, fingers rubbing your core over your panties, making you shudder under his touch. His hand moved up to slip beneath them, and you gasped again at the feeling of his calloused fingers against your bare pussy. He rubbed between your folds, fingertips circling your clit. Your back arched against the seat, a high pitched moan accidentally slipping past your lips.

“Feel good?” He asked, his voice low. “You look so pretty like this.” His fingertips moved down, prodding at your entrance. You gripped onto his arm, like you might fall away if you didn’t have something to hold onto.

He pushed a finger inside, pumping it into you slowly. It wasn’t long before he added his second finger, curling them deep inside you and pressing against a spot that had your legs shaking. “Billy,” you moaned again, head falling back against the headrest.

He continued thrusting his fingers inside, his thumb rubbing against your clit. You felt pleasure rising in your belly, your thighs shaking around his arm as he brought you higher and higher. “C’mon, baby,” he muttered against your ear. “Cum for me.”

His words pushed you over the edge and you came around his fingers, crying out his name and squeezing your eyes closed as the pleasure tore through your body. When Billy removed his fingers you were sad at the loss, but your eyes went wide when he brought his fingers to his lips and licked them clean. Fuck.

“Why don’t we get in the backseat?” He said, kissing you again. You could taste yourself on his lips, which was strange.

“O…kay,” you said, climbing into the back with your shaking limbs. He crawled back behind you, maneuvering through the seats with a bit more difficulty. In the back he wasted no time grabbing onto you, pushing your dress up as he kissed you hard again.

Your head was spinning as he pushed your dress up and up, pulling it over your head and tossing it onto the floor. You were grateful you’d chosen a cute black lace matching bra and panties set, because Billy seemed to approve. You decided to make a bold move and unbutton the rest of his shirt, his hands sliding up your back and undoing your bra with the kind of ease only experience brings. You tried not to think about that right now.

He slid your panties down your legs, feeling the smooth skin as he slid his hands up your body. Then he reached for his own belt buckle, undoing it and his jeans and pushing them down just enough along with his boxers.

Your eyes widened again as his cock sprung free, long and hard and thick with precum leaking from his red tip. He had been straining against his clothes for a while, cock aching to be touched. He looked at you.

“Do you wanna suck it?” He asked, wrapping his fist around the base of his cock. He slowly stroked himself, watching you the entire time.

“I’ve never…” You couldn’t finish the sentence, blush rising to your cheeks as you admitted just how inexperienced you were.

“That’s okay, princess,” he said, suave as ever. “Do you wanna try?”

You did. He looked so good like this, you wanted a taste. He smirked as you leaned forward and replaced his fist with your own, your tongue coming out to lick the precum from his tip. He groaned, which encouraged you to keep going.

You sucked at his tip, and he rested his hand on the back of your head, encouraging you to take more. You sunk farther down on his cock, your mouth stretched wide as you did your best to take all of him. You gagged and coughed around him when he bucked his hips up into your mouth unexpectedly.

“Sorry, baby,” he said, voice strained. “Just felt so good.”

That gave you the confidence to keep going, your lips stretched around his girth as you began bobbing your head along his length. He tightened his grip on your hair, guiding you up and down the way he liked. The groans coming from him were so hot, it made you want to do even better for him.

You pulled off of him and licked all along his shaft, worshipping his cock, making a mess on him. The way he moaned let you know you were doing a good job and he loved this, loved when you sucked his cock all messy like that.

“That’s so good, princess, you’re doing amazing,” he praised you. You never thought you’d like being praised so much but it did something to you, and you enveloped him in your mouth again, taking his massive cock all the way down your throat until your nose was pressed against his base. Billy let out a strangled moan before he was pulling you off of him.

You looked at him confused - you thought you’d been doing a good job. You felt embarrassed until he said “That was too good, baby. Didn’t wanna cum in your mouth…at least not this time.”

He moved over you, making you lay back on the seat, the leather cool against your skin. He grabbed your hips and pulled until you were flat on your back and exactly how he wanted you. Your legs spread, he looked down at your pussy, licking his lips as he took in the view.

“I wanna taste that pussy next time,” he said, “but for now I need to be inside you.”

He reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He opened it and pulled out a foil packet, ripping it open with his teeth. You watched as he slid the condom onto his cock, so hard and flushed with his desire.

He traced his dick through your folds, collecting your slick on the condom. Then you felt his thick tip prodding at your entrance. You held onto his arm as he pushed inside, stretching you out intensely. Your back arched off the seat, a long whine coming from your lips as he pushed in deeper and deeper, seemingly endlessly. It felt like his cock went on forever.

When he was buried to the hilt, he shuddered, the feeling of your tight pussy nearly pushing him over the edge immediately. He wasn’t about to let that happen - it had never happened before and he wasn’t about to start now. He pulled back and thrusted into you, pulling another whine from you.

“Feel good, princess?” He asked, leaning over you as he set a steady pace, burying his face in your neck as he bit and sucked at the skin there again.

“You’re so big,” you whined, fingernails digging into his shoulders. “So so big.”

Billy chuckled, his hips speeding up as he slammed into you harder. Your eyes rolled back in your head - you’d never been fucked like this before. With Eddie it had been slow, awkward and sweet, but this was anything but. “Feels good though, yeah?”

“Yes,” you moaned. The car was rocking, the windows fogged up from the heat you were creating together. You knew if anyone came by, like Hopper, they’d know exactly what you were up to. The idea made your cheeks heat in embarrassment, but the pleasure was so good you didn’t really care.

Billy dug his fingers tighter into your hips, fucking you hard and fast. Soft grunts came from him with every thrust, his eyes falling closed before he forced them open again, watching your tits bounce as he fucked you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he groaned. “Fucking perfect. Perfect little pussy, so tight and hot and wet, taking me so good. You’re a natural, baby.”

His praise had you getting even wetter, pussy clenching around his cock which made his hips stutter. “Billy,” you moaned again and again, “Billy Billy Billy-“

It was stroking his ego, the way you were falling apart on his cock. He hadn’t even touched you yet, you were this pathetic and needy with nothing but his cock inside you. Knowing it would give you the final push you needed, he moved one hand from your hip and rubbed quick circles over your clit.

He was right, and you came hard, pussy throbbing around his dick as your back arched and you saw stars, calling Billy’s name over and over and over again as you came.

Billy had a smug smile on his face, he couldn’t believe how easy you had fallen apart for him. He fucked into you hard a few more times, grunting hard with every thrust until he stilled inside you, filling the condom with his cum as he groaned your name. It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

When both of you had caught your breath, he pulled out of you, pulling the condom off and throwing it somewhere outside. He collapsed onto the seat next to you, skin covered in a sheen of sweat. He handed you your clothes and you awkwardly put them back on as he tucked himself back away and re-buttoned his shirt.

You weren’t sure what would happen next. You felt a little uncomfortable, wondering what this meant for you and Billy. He climbed back into the front seat once he was dressed and you followed, settling back in the passenger seat and buckling your seatbelt. Billy started the car, pulling out of the spot and beginning the drive back to your house.

It was silent in the car on the way home, besides his music blaring from the speakers. You didn’t think he’d hear you even if you tried to speak. He finally turned it down when he reached your house, pulling to a stop out front. He turned to you then.

“Can we keep this between us?” He asked, looking at you for the first time since you’d finished.

“What?” You asked, confused.

“You know, keep it between us. Don’t tell anyone.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “It just…wouldn’t be good for me, if this got out. But I do want to see you again.”

You were shocked, and a little hurt. But you didn’t know what else to say. “Okay.”

Billy smiled at you then. “Good.” He leaned forward and kissed you one more time. “I’ll pick you up this weekend?”

“Sure,” you said. Then you climbed out of the car, walking up the front walkway to the front door. Your parents were still gone. You unlocked the door and closed and locked it again behind you before heading back upstairs to your room. You laid down on your bed, replaying the evening in your mind.

Eddie had been right to tell you to be careful.

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