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sadprose-auroras · 5 months ago

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'Dulcissima' - Lucius Verus x Fem!Reader SMUT

dulcissima: Latin; my sweetest

A/N: My god. I saw Gladiator 2 yesterday, and this utter filth just came pouring out of me. A major shoutout to everyone who has BEEN writing for this character, I just had to contribute my little part. Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Also take a shot every time I mention his big blue eyes and massive arms like hello I'm sorryyyy can you blame me!!! Also it starts off a bit shaky but trust me stick with it! I just can't not have some kind of backstory y'know

Word count: 3.3k

CONTENT WARNINGS: smut, breeding kink, brief size kink, cumplay, vague oral fixation, brief mentions of colonisation and injury

RATING: 18+. By clicking 'read more,' you are confirming that you are 18+

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Pressing the cloth against his skin made him wince, the muscles in his arm jump, and though you typically would not, you pulled it away.

“I’m sorry, but I must,” you said gently, and it occurred to him that nobody had treated him with such humanity and sweetness in such a long time. “It will be over soon.”

You continued to clean his wound as gently as possible, trying to ignore the heat emanating off his body simply due to your proximity. To distract him, you decided to make conversation. You were no stranger to what it felt like to be a slave. For your home to be destroyed, to be dehumanised in such a monstrous way.

“Hanno, where is your home?” you ask, as you continue to work.

“My home no longer exists,” he said with a level of defensiveness, eyes lowering to the floor. “Not as it once did.”

“My ancestral lineage hail from Aduatuci. My parents, my parents’ parents, have all been slaves. We do not know any different,” you said. “But I have dreams of a free Rome, one of hope. I have heard of it, and I know it can exist. If not for myself, then maybe for my future children.”

The lilt of hope in your voice softened his shoulders immediately, and he finally made eye contact with you.

“Numidia. Numidia was my home. I was taken as a slave as they took our land. I will not know peace until I see the world you speak of.” You nodded with understanding, carefully placing your hand on his knee. His demeanour was completely different to the survival instincts you witnessed in the stadium. He was kind, gentle.

“I believe we can fight for that kind of world,” you reassured.

Once you finished tending to him, you gathered your supplies and stood up to leave.

“May the Gods bless you, Hanno,” you said. He reached out to grab your hand as you turned to leave, a lightning bolt of electricity shooting through you. You turned back.

“Wait,” he said, letting your hand go. “Will you come and see me tonight? Please? I could do with some company.” The vulnerability in his bright eyes made your heart melt.

“Of course.”

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Somehow, yourself and Hanno developed a bond. It became a cycle. Each time he was forced into the arena, you watched with a pit in your stomach, tears welling in your eyes. Each time he was victorious, the relief that flooded through you was incomparable. Afterwards, you would tend to his wounds, talking about your hopes and dreams for the future. He would speak of his life back home, tell you all about his childhood and his father.

Each night, you would sneak into his cell to talk more. It had dawned on you that he was your only friend. The only person who had ever understood you.

One night after a horrifying battle in the arena, you snuck in to see him. Drawing your hood down, you nodded to the guard at the door who allowed you through. He had also become an ally to you both, closing the door behind you and moving away to give you some privacy.

Hanno, or Lucius, as he had recently revealed to you was his name by birth, was sitting with his hands clasped together, gazing thoughtfully at the floor, a crease between his brows. When he saw you, his leg ceased shaking and he stood up to embrace you. His strong arms engulfed you, and you immediately relaxed at the familiar feeling. The prospect of losing the familiarity between you was becoming more and more frightening to you. An air of heaviness clouded this particular visit. It felt different this time.

“I am so happy to see you,” he breathed out, pulling away, caressing your arm. Casual touches between you were comfortable and common, especially considering you were required to touch him all the time when tending to his injuries. And yet, every single time, a shiver ran down your spine. Likewise, every time he pulled away, you could feel yourself physically tense once again. He made you feel like you could breathe.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” you murmured, your bottom lip trembling, with what you weren’t entirely sure. It was like every time you saw him, your inhibitions were lowered more and more. You spoke without thinking, acted without speaking. It was dangerous.

“Oh now, dulcissima.” His hand caught at your chin, raising your head to look at him. Your heart immediately began racing rapidly, face flushing. The endearing term all the permission you finally needed, you gently cupped his face, gazing into his stark blue eyes, his long lashes. They stood out against the dirt on his face, the stained red blood smeared across his forehead. A shiver ran through you as his eyes flickered in pleasure.

“Han-“ you began. “Lucius,” you settled on for now. You could never decide what to call him. Either way, he was still the same. Strong, tender, solid, beautiful. Yours.

“I will always be yours, can you not see? This life and the next. You cannot lose me.”

Unable to come up with any eloquent answer, you decided actions were more powerful. As if your lips had a mind of their own, you raised up ever so slightly on your toes to kiss him, your lips slotting together perfectly. His kiss was soft and gentle as you tested out the feeling with one another, his hands moving to protectively cup the sides of your face, thumb stroking your cheek making you exhale through your nose. Your lips explored his, moving together in perfect harmony, coming up for air every few moments.

Your head was spinning with desire, everything else in the world fell away when he kissed you. His hands had moved into your hair, fingers threading through it, not quite pulling. Your hands seemed to have a mind of their own, running all over his bare back, sides and chest. The feeling of the hard muscle underneath your fingertips, especially when you could feel it jump with sensitivity, made you want to lick your wet tongue all over his body. You wanted, needed, to devour every inch of him.

Hanno’s kisses grew hungrier by the minute, hands massaging and tugging your hair now, pulling it free from its style. You moaned into his mouth, which made him pull away for a moment and press a finger to your lips.

“You must be quiet, dulcissima.” You fought the urge to buckle your knees at the sound of such a sweet term in his rough voice.

“I know,” you murmured against his finger, absentmindedly scratching your nails down his back as you spoke, revelling in the way his mouth opened slightly at the feeling, eyelashes fluttering. “I will be, I promise.”

“Do you?” he asked, finger now teasing at the entrance of your mouth. You nodded ever so slightly, taking his finger in your mouth, swirling it with your tongue. You closed your eyes, coating his finger in wetness, moving your mouth up and down exploringly.

“Mmmhmm,” you moaned as an answer around his finger. The way he was watching you with hooded eyes, bottom lip taken between his teeth, was making the wetness pooling between your thighs impossible to ignore. He gazed at you as if you hung the stars, as if you were a goddess he was worshipping.

You took your mouth off his finger with a pop, and he began to trace it down your throat slowly, leaving a trail of your own spit. You trembled under his touch, lifting your chin to allow him more access. He reached the swell of your breasts, continuing down between them. You pushed your garments down off your shoulders, arched your back to close the gap between you, chest heaving in desperation. You would feel pathetic if it was anybody else. But he made you feel so safe. You could completely be yourself, express your desires.

“My Lucius, my strong one, please,” you breathed, hungry hands now tugging at his hair. “I need you to take me. Make me forget everything. I want to only remember you.”

Without warning, he swept you up in his arms, a gasp escaping your lips, as he expertly laid you down, hovering above you. You took a moment to take him in; his pink, pillowy lips, tousled hair, scruff beard, shining eyes. Not even the midnight sky, nor a sunset, or a shimmering ocean, was so breathtaking.

“My love,” he scanned your face, causing your heart to skip a beat. “My love,” he repeated himself, beginning to kiss down your neck over your shoulder, across the top of your breasts, sucking and nibbling. Your entire body filled with goosebumps, and you briefly considered that you were not being nearly as quiet as you had hoped. It was so difficult when he was making you feel this overcome with ecstasy.

“I need to feel your skin on mine,” you whispered, tugging at his clothing. He lifted himself off you, standing before you. He removed his loincloth, tossing it aside, his erection standing before you. Your mouth watered as you took the sight of him in, face becoming impossibly hot. His manhood was proportionately large and thick, much like the rest of his broad, toned body. It made you feel so delicate in comparison. Various images flashed in your mind’s eye. A large, strong hand coming down hard on your ass. The other wrapped around your throat. His back muscles flexing as he pounded into you from behind, his hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming.

“You are so-“ you began to say, but couldn’t find the right words. Before you could finish your thought, he moved towards you again.

“Can I undress you?” he asked, hands moving steadily down your clothed body. You nodded vigorously.

“Please,” you squirmed, fluttering your lashes at your love. He motioned for you to sit up so he could pull your tunic off your head, placing it on the floor. You were left entirely bare, and if it were anybody else in front of you, you would feel self-conscious. But the way his fingertips gently stroked your sides, his big blue eyes bore into yours with care and understanding, made you feel like a goddess yourself.

“I want to worship you,” he began, covering his body with yours, mouth covering one of your breasts. “Lay you on an altar and pray over every single part of your body,” he murmured as he took your nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue. You gasped, hands gripping his shoulders for stability.

“Tell me what else,” you whispered.

“Well,” he said between wet kisses over to your other breast. “Once I worshipped you, my goddess,” he said as he began to suck on your other nipple, tweaking the first with his fingers, making you arch your back. “I would then ravage you,” he said, not giving you a chance to respond except to moan into his mouth as he kissed you, the kiss all tongue and desperation. His beard was scratching at your delicate skin deliciously. You ached to feel this on your thighs.

You began to grind against his body as you kissed, attempting to relieve some frustration. You could feel his hardness pressing into your stomach, and it made your mouth water.

“Lucius,” you groaned into his mouth, perhaps a little too loudly.

Shhhhhh, he placed his hand over your mouth, tutting at you. He kept his hand there, his other one tracing a line down your stomach. Your entire body was shaking as you spread your legs apart, drops of wetness falling down your thighs.

“Quiet, my love,” he whispered, one singular finger finally, ever so gently, tracing your folds. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, bucking up into his hand. You needed more.

He noticed his reaction, groaning to himself. He couldn’t help but give you what you wanted. He used two fingers to apply more pressure, running up and down your soaked folds, hitting your clit and making your body twitch each time. He watched in amazement as you writhed in both desperation and pleasure, guiding his hand with your bodily movements.

Something switched in you at that moment, and you pushed his hand off your mouth, flipping yourselves over so you were now hovering above him.

“I need you in my mouth, lest I die,” you said breathlessly. He looked amused at your dramatics, but you felt his cock twitch against you.

“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” he said, and you both chuckled. Wordlessly, you turned yourself around so your pussy was over his face, his cock standing proudly in front of you. It was throbbing, looking almost painful. It made you love him even more, that he wanted you this badly.

“So beautiful,” you murmured, using your thumb to swipe the precum dribbling out of his head, licking it curiously. His deep growl was animalistic, and you felt his nails digging into your ass as he took you in his mouth, devouring you just as he promised. Simultaneously, you moaned as you licked a stripe up the underside of him, spitting a generous amount before slowly taking him into your mouth.

Being unable to see him only made you feel closer, as you could feel his mouth reacting to what you were doing. At the same time, his suctioning and licking of your pulsing clit, licking up and down your folds, was making you groan against him, the reverberation contributing to his pleasure. You began to grind your hips against his face in rhythm with your head bobbing up and down, eyes fluttering open and closed in bliss. His beard scratching against your inner thighs was painfully delicious, even more so than your imagination. You could barely breathe with how fast you were taking him in your mouth, but you did not care.

When he took your clit between his teeth and gently tugged, you gasped in pleasure, making you gag. You pulled him out of your mouth, a line of spit following. You felt the vibrations of him laughing against you. You turned around so you were face-to-face again, your legs trembling.

“Did that feel good, my darling?” he asked, unable to help himself from drawing circles on your bundle of nerves with two fingers as he spoke.

“I-Oh-So-G-Good,” you choked out.

“Would you like me inside of you?” he asked, teasing your entrance with his fingers.

“Yes, please,” you begged. He wasted no time in flipping you over once again, using his strength to pull your legs up onto his broad shoulders, your ankles intertwining behind his neck.

“I am yours, yours, yours,” he repeated like a mantra. “Yours,” the last one came out with a groan, as he swiftly entered you halfway. Your breath was taken away in the best possible way, his thickness impossibly stretching you out.

“You’re so big,” you moaned, shaking your head, inadvertently clenching around him. He gritted his teeth.

“It feels so right. So right to be this close to you. I need you every day, every night, all the time,” he rambled, as he pushed all the way into you, bottoming out. You nodded rapidly in agreeance, finding it difficult to speak.

“Is that okay?” he asked, intertwining your fingers together above your head. You nodded again, licking your lips. Your mouth had gotten a little dry from hanging open in pleasure.

“I want you to fill me up like this forever,” you answered, tossing your head side to side deliriously. “I will always need you.”

Something flickered in Lucius’ eyes. He dropped one of your hands, instead pinning both of your wrists down with one hand. He used the other hand to draw circles on your clit, as he began to move inside you. Slowly, gently at first, but not for long.

Before you knew it, it felt as it he was going to split you apart. He was grunting with each thrust, your promises to keep quiet entirely forgotten. The rhythmic sound of your wetness as he moved in and out of you echoed throughout the cell, and it was quite possibly the most melodic sound he had ever heard. You could feel him deep within you, hitting your cervix which took your breath away each time.

Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead, the veins in his arms protruding out. You moved your hands so he was no longer holding your wrists down, and he complied immediately. You needed to touch him. With shaking hands, you ran your fingertips all over his chest and stomach, feeling the muscles flexing with each thrust. You worked your way up over his shoulders, up his neck and into his hair, then back down to his arms. You dug your nails into his biceps, surely leaving marks.

“Fill me up with your seed, dulcissime,” you echoed his sentiment from earlier. “Make me ripe with a child so that we may carry on a hopeful legacy for generations to come.”

He groaned, profanities escaping his mouth in a deep, guttural voice.

“Say that again,” he demanded, fingers still circling your swollen, aching clitoris.

You gripped his hair in your hands, pulling him close to whisper in his ear.

“Get me pregnant, dulcissime. I need your hot, sticky seed inside of me.”

This undid both of you. You reached for one another, mouths slotting together in harmony. You stifled your moans with kisses, as you felt him spill inside you and warm you up. The feeling sent you over the edge, as you pulled his hair even harder to steady yourself. A warmth flowered all the way from your sternum to your extremities, your pussy pulsing around him as you rode out the high. Your entire body felt like it was floating, spots clouding your vision.

“My love, my darling,” Hanno murmured, his stomach rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. You kissed again, as he cupped your face gently.

Wordlessly, he gently, achingly, pulled himself from inside of you, and you both watched in awe as the point where your bodies met were no longer together. His seed was dribbling out of you, coating you and making you itch.

“Can I clean you up?” he asked gruffly, barely waiting for an answer as you sighed out, “God, yes,” as he moved down your body so his face was crowding between your thighs. He licked a swipe up you, making your entire body twitch with aftershock. You practically screamed, the overstimulation almost too much to handle. Almost. You shoved your fist into your mouth to stifle the noises.

You watched through hooded eyes as he licked up every drop of his own seed, grinding onto his face, chasing the pleasure. You were delirious, not a single thought in your mind beside Lucius. When he was finished, he wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb, and you moaned out loud at the sight. He returned to kiss you once more, and you could taste the familiar taste on his tongue, making your stomach swoop with desire.

Pulling away for a moment, he rolled over onto his back, pulling you with him so you were folded into his side, leg draped over his, his large arms engulfing you. He pressed a gentle kiss to your sweaty temple, wildly juxtaposing his actions from mere moments ago.

He gazed down at you with those incredible eyes, sighing blissfully. He moved a piece of hair from your face as he spoke his next words.

“I hope you know I meant every word, dulcissima. I want to build a future with you, for you, for our children. I vow to always protect you.”

You pressed a sweet kiss to his lips.

“We will build our home together,” you replied. And for the first time, the future you imagined, a future full of hope and possibility, felt closer than ever before.

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seokminfilm · 25 days ago

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just friends ── kim mingyu

🤍 pairing, kim mingyu x reader

🤍 warnings, non-idol au, fluff, implied childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, mingyu is kind of a flirt, kissing, confession, long-haired mingyu (we moved on too quickly from him), reader sits on mingyu's lap, reader calls mingyu 'gyu'

🤍 summary, you and mingyu realize you aren't just "friends".

🤍 author's note, saw these mingyu pics that screamed 80's college student and had to write something about it cause long-haired mingyu is literally my roman empire🧍consider this to be a LATE mingyu birthday gift cause i planned to do something for his bday the day OF and couldn't think of anything ☹ anyways enjoy!!

🤍 now playing, show me how (men i trust)

🤍 word count, 984 | for @kstrucknet, @maestro-net

"oh, come on. a few kisses will not ruin our friendship." mingyu has a whine to his voice you can't help but laugh at, cheeks heating up nevertheless as you side-eye him.

"mingyu, do you hear yourself right now? are you sure you aren't drunk?" you ask, and mingyu grabs your hands, dark eyes serious as he holds your gaze. his hands are warm, and his body radiates heat, the blush on his cheeks matching yours as he shakes his head.

the two of you had settled in on a quiet friday night to binge-watch your favorite childhood movies, and the two of you had just finished watching flipped, laughing and cringing at the bonus clips of the kissing scenes.

if you thought hard about it, you would have noticed that mingyu was acting differently tonight. he had been really touchy with you lately, hands always somewhere on you as he carried on conversations.

you didn't think about it much at first, but you had started to get distracted by it, body warming up as soon as mingyu had attempted to put his arm around you. it was awkward, seeing mingyu trying to flirt with you, but it made your heart skip nevertheless.

it seems that the little childhood crush you swore you had successfully hidden wasn't truly hidden at all.

"you're seriously asking to kiss me right now? friends....friends don't kiss each other on the daily, gyu." you laugh, trying to shrug off the feeling of thousands of butterflies in your stomach.

mingyu stares at you with puppy-like dark brown eyes hidden behind wire-framed glasses, lips parting to reveal sharp canines as he thinks better of his sentence and closes his mouth. he shifts a little bit, broad shoulders blocking any way of escape from the couch as he nods slightly.

"i know that. i know that friends don't want to kiss each other. they shouldn't want to, anyways." mingyu exhales again, pretty eyes downcast to the cushion under him before he looks back up at you again.

"we're not just friends are we?" mingyu asks quietly, eyes piercing as he holds your gaze. you choke on your words, eyes widening slightly as you lock eyes on his frame, fingertips twitching with the urge to push his neck-length hair back.

you were already dancing the fine line between 'friends enjoying a cute movie' and 'friends two seconds away from kissing each other', and you had a feeling that tucking mingyu's hair back for him would be the amount the two of you would need to cross the line into the latter.

"do you want to kiss me?" you ask softly, and mingyu's eyes jump up to meet yours. he's staring down at you, obviously too tall for you to look him straight in the eye.

you had no clue where the confidence to ask that question came from, but you found yourself praying that more would come.

"...maybe." mingyu has the gall to smirk at you, soft lips even more taunting as you heave a sigh, shaking your head slightly.

"i can't believe i'm doing this." something between a sigh and a laugh spills from your lips, and mingyu watches you relapse in judgment, taking your chin in his hand as he pulls you to him.

"don't you dare back out now." mingyu's voice is low, delicate as if he's scared that the moment will pass. you search his eyes, heart slowing down as he traces your jawline with his finger. "i want this. ....o-only if you want it, though."

the nervousness seems to leave your body with mingyu's slight stutter at the end of his sentence, showing that he's just as nervous as you are.

you let your shoulders drop slightly, relaxing your body as mingyu notices the way you lean into his touch. "i want it, gyu."

the words seem like a dream to you as they come out of your mouth, but your heart and mind finally agree on something for once: you want this kiss like your life depends on it.

"good. let me show you what i've been wanting to do to you for ages." mingyu's voice lowers to a whisper as he leans in. his lips lock with yours a few seconds later, massive tanned hands cupping your face as he molds his lips to yours.

your hands are flying to mingyu's tousled hair in an instant, fingers combing through his dark locks as he presses into you. you always knew mingyu's lips were soft, but you never expected they'd be this soft—and on your lips, for god sake.

after a few seconds of silence, the two of you pull away from each other, still in a dazed state of mind. mingyu's glasses had been discarded somewhere, and he sits in front of you now, eyes piercing as he studies your microexpressions.

"you know i've liked you for the longest time, right?" you decide to state the obvious, now that you just kissed your childhood friend.

"yeah," mingyu shrugs nonchalantly, and you take hold of mingyu's broad shoulders quickly, shaking him as he laughs happily.

"seriously? why didn't you do anything about it!?" you pout, and mingyu smiles, finger running across your cheek as he shrugs. "i wanted to see how long you could wait."

"kim mingyu!" you whack mingyu lightly, a smile cracking across your face as mingyu falls back against the couch. you find the confidence to climb up upon mingyu's lap, his hands taking place on your hips as he smiles up at you.

"i love you." the words fall from his lips before you can beat him to it, and your heart flutters, finally hearing mingyu utter the words you had only heard him say in dreams.

"i love you too, mingyu." you smile softly, leaning down to get what's owed to you: mingyu's searing kiss that tastes of a long-waited confession.

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ramonathinks · 1 year ago

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BILLIONAIRE BOYS CLUB

stuck in an elevator with the three elite billionaire sons of Bruce Wayne.

tags: (18+) fingering, squirting, pet names (doll face, baby, sweetheart), dry humping, dirty talk, ripping of clothes, confided spaces, brothers who share, oral (f!receiving), making out, hickies, nipple play, kinda exhibitionism (???), foursome, mention of breeding kinks, praise

notes: i imagine reader as black but i don’t think i used any physical description [repost!]

It was a tight fit. It had you rubbing your thighs together to calm the heat and aching throbbing between your legs. Crossing your ankles together you held your purse tighter and inhaled, trying to think of anything but your three bosses — but their presence was too powerful and overwhelming in this tight and suffocating elevator. Dirty and primal lust filled the air and you swallowed hard trying to ignore it.

They were all so tall, so lean and their muscular bodies took over all of the small space that you were confined in. Awkwardly rolling your hips, trying to ease your aches without being noticed, your body trembled a bit. Your stomach folded in as the mixed aroma of their colognes entered your nose — a musky smell of pine caused you to bite your lip.

The elevator was quiet besides the occasional rumbling but you couldn’t help but feel queasy, feeling as if they all were staring you down.

Quiet yet quick shuffling was heard before you noticed a tanned hand pressing yet another button. You tried to pay no mind to it until all at once the lights flickered and a loud bang started, you gasped aloud and backed back into a hard chest.

“S-sorry,” You stammered, pushing yourself off of whoever was behind you. You tried not to memorize the feeling that your hands felt of the muscular and broadness of his chest, your face felt hot and with the sudden change of temperature it was only worst.

“It’s fine, doll face.” Came the response of the one and only Jason Todd, his voice made you shiver with delight and the ache in your core returned again. Your blazer and tights making you feel stuffy and hot, as if you were wearing too many clothes. “You okay?”

You didn’t trust anymore of your voice but you nodded. Heat pooled between your legs listening to his deep and throaty voice and the nickname he bestowed upon you. Self fanning yourself a bit you looked off to the side, seeing Dick to your side, who winked at you.

“You’re looking pretty hot there,” Dick brought himself closer to your ear and blew a bit near your neck. He chuckled when you jumped back. “I don’t bite baby, you know, unless you like that kind of thing…” His piercing dark blue eyes scanned your face before eyeing your lips.

“No need to be scared.” Tim finally spoke up. You felt a shift in the air before he grabbed at your waist and pulled you in to his chest.

That’s when it clicked for you. Jason pushed the button to halt the elevator. As if reading your expression, their laughter shook the elevator. “Finally figured it out, yeah?” Jason’s eyes were equally piercing as Dick’s but it was the smirk and the white streak of hair that was making you fold.

“She’s been here, what..? About 3 months?” Dick quirked an eyebrow to him, who you felt nod against your shoulder. “Still haven’t noticed us… our stares… our conversations that we always try to rope you in… you just gave us nothing—”

“So we had to do something to get your attention.” Jason finished, bringing his calloused yet soft hands to caress your face, rubbing at your cheeks before removing your glasses from your face.

Grinding his hips against yours, Tim kissed the sides of your neck. Your breathing quickened with every tainting kiss before his mouth opened and then you felt pure wetness dripping down your neck. His thick long tongue licking up a pattern as he grinding himself more against you, you could feel how hard he was, how thick he was and just how big.

“I… I don’t understand…” You muttered, mainly to yourself. Trying to control yourself but your hips were already rutting against Tim’s, quiet moans leaving both of your lips.

“Shh…” Dick pressed a finger to your lips. “It’s nothing for you to understand. Just know… we’ve been thinking about this for quite some time now.”

“And we plan to make you understand every inch of it, baby.” Tim panted in your ear, you could feel his hands trailing up from your waist leaving a hot trail until he landed on your breast. “Jason, mind giving me a hand?”

It was almost too quick how Jason undid the buttons to your shirt, leaving both the shirt and blazer on, he was tempted to snap a picture. Looking at the position you were in made him want you even more. “So fucking beautiful.” He blew his breath on your nipples, watching them both get hard and erect.

He was never too big on sharing. But with his brothers? It was something different.

You yelped, feeling more heat hit your now bare legs as Dick stretched and ripped the flimsy fabric thighs you were wearing. He turned to look at Jason, “You owe me.”

With hungry eyes, Jason looked between your legs and sucked his teeth. “Fuck.” He groaned. Black lacy panties.

Was it wrong for the brothers to bet what type of panties you wore? Probably. But damn did it pay off.

Bumping his nose against your clothed clit at the same time that Tim tweaked your nipples you tried to move away from them, it was too much. “W-Wait!”

Jason moved closer to you and touched your face again, “Shh. It’s okay.” He cooed before he leaned towards, keeping his eyes on yours.

Everything happened all at once. Your eyes rolled back once you felt his tongue slither inside of your mouth with no warning, his brothers feeling you up it was almost too much for you to focus on — the rhythm of Tim’s hips, Jason’s tongue swirling inside of your mouth and Dick playing with your drooling covered pussy.

Jason applied pressure to your tongue before licking the insides of your mouth, both sides of the cheeks before he sucked on your tongue. Even with your eyes closed, you knew he was still staring at you. Each moan they pulled out of you, another one added pressure.

“Oh fuck,” Feeling Dick pulling your panties to the side and hearing him moan. Your slick wetness sticking to the black Lacy panties you were wearing. “Such a pretty mess down here.” He licked his lips. “Such a pretty little pussy, fuck, you like when I say talk to you down here baby?” As if the dripping all over wasn’t enough of an answer, he smiled before dipping his head down.

You held your breath, expecting him to get straight to the point. But instead, he kissed your thighs. Trailing deep kisses up and down, getting closer and closer to your clit every time. Your breathing uneven, Jason moved from your mouth to your breast, his teeth tugging on your dark nipples, still meeting your eyes.

Dick’s muffled moan drew your eyes to him. You watched as his wet tongue tugged at your folds before slurping up the juices that spilled out of you. Your legs were trembling and if it wasn’t for Tim, you would’ve fell over.

“You like what he’s doing to you, sweetheart?” Tim whispered. “Imagine what it’ll be like when I’m cumming inside of that pussy, you hear me? Matter of fact. When we’re all cumming inside of you, gonna birth a heir to this company, aren’t you?” He sucked on your ear lobe and your pussy tightened up when Dick tried to put his tongue inside of you.

“Don’t scare her off, Tim. He’s just playing around baby.” Jason told you, kissing the valley between your aching breast.

Parting the lips of your pussy with his fingers, Dick drove his tongue inside. “Oooh, I…” You we’re babbling. Wetness dripping on his face and even on his expensive shirt as he licked and slurped, nibbling on your puffy clit.

Tim didn’t like how left out he was, the brothers could see it on his face. With another long suck on your clit enough to make you even weaker on your knees, Dick rose up.

“W-wait I didn’t get to—” He covered your mouth with his, holding the sides of your face and massaging the breast that Jason was neglecting.

A sudden intrusion inside of your pussy made you moan aloud. You were so focused that you didn’t feel Tim parting you open for his fingers. “So fucking tight, right here. Such a small pussy. Can’t wait to break her in.” He purred, moving two of his fingers faster inside of you. His hips digging into yours, Jason now sucking on your throat. The gentle fiction from Tim’s slacks driving you even more crazy since his fingers are working too. Using his thumb, he pressed on your clit and dragged his thumb up and down adding pressure each time.

You were struggling to keep your balance. Your voice was hoarse as they had their way with you. Your entire body shaking while you whimpered against them, tightening up on Tim’s fingers and he groaned, stretching them inside of you.

With clenched teeth Tim told you, “Breathe. Fuck, sweetheart. It’s just me, just open up a bit more.” It was feeling good being stretched so good while two other boys felt you up with their hands and their mouths.

You were getting so dizzy. Your orgasm attempting to push through. You didn’t know how you didn’t come yet.

Licking up the pulse on both sides of your neck, Dick and Jason shared a look. You didn’t know what it meant until they both dropped to their knees and eyed your swollen clit.

“Oh you weren’t lying. I knew she’d be pretty. But this is truly a pussy, so smooth and bare.” Jason smirked, pulling your lips open, watching his brother’s fingers dipping inside. Then he moved forward and kissed your aching clit.

Your knees buckled and you threw your head back while Tim continued to hold you up and fuck you with his fingers. Sucking your clit into his mouth, Jason did a deep groan, putting your clit in his mouth and mouthing his head back before letting your clit bounce back before doing it again.

His tongue was putting in work, licking up and down your clit. Feeling another set of wetness you thrusted your hips forward, begging for more, not realized Dick had joined in on the assault of your pussy.

The strokes of their tongues plus Tim’s fingers moving and stretching you so deep, you rode out every feeling you possessed and when Tim pushed in deeper inside of your gummy walls that held him so tight, he pressed and circled your insides until he felt you clench harder than before.

It was the hardest you ever came, your limbs snapping, body shaking hard, babbling words and your pussy squirting out a clear liquid of slick on both of the boys below up, who happily drank it up. You felt drunk as you slid down to the ground.

With wild looks in their eyes, the brothers straightened themselves out, looking over your appearance. Dick pulled your blazer over you and Jason continued to rip the rest of your tights. Tim, got the elevator back on track.

The aftershocks of your orgasm still haven’t faded, your body still twitching and shaking. You could hear them talking to each other, “She’s completely fucked out. She won’t be able to go back to work like this.” Dick said.

“Can’t take her home or Bruce will have our heads for fucking with his best assistant.” Tim replied while Jason just laughed.

“Well,” Jason picked you up as if you weighted nothing. “I can always take her back to my comfy loft.”

Tim and Dick looked at him as if he was crazy. “So you could get started without us? Ha, very funny.” Tim snorted.

“Let’s just find her address on the company—” The elevator dinged and stopped, the doors opening to the person none of you wanted to see.

With wide eyes Bruce Wayne frowned at the sight. Putting a hand over his forehead he did a deep sigh, “Do I even want to know?”

The boys all shook their heads and Tim quickly pressed the button to the company garage. “Let’s just get something to eat first.”

“Works for me.” You yawned, looking dreamily at the three boys.

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joaeriz · 1 month ago

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8 LETTERS (Paige Bueckers x Fem!Reader)

📎 inspired by “8 Letters” by Why Don’t We 📖 fluff | slow burn | soft romance | college AU 💌 word count: ~2.8k

summary: When Y/N is assigned to write a feature on UConn’s star player Paige Bueckers, the last thing she expects is late-night FaceTimes, secret hangouts, and catching real feelings. As the line between friendship and something more starts to blur, both girls are left wondering if they’re brave enough to say the eight letters that could change everything.

authors note: (Okay, so before you jump in—I just wanna say I had so much fun writing this. It’s honestly a mix of two of my favorite things ever: Paige Bueckers (who I adore) and “8 Letters” by Why Don’t We (which lives rent-free in my head, always). The idea hit me out of nowhere—like, what if that kind of soft, slow, “I love you but I’m scared to say it” kind of story played out between Y/N and Paige? And it just spiraled from there in the best way. I got way too emotionally invested in these two (not sorry), and writing all the cute moments, the late-night FaceTimes, and the feelings they’re both too scared to admit? Ugh. I loved every second.So if you’re into a little angst, a lot of softness, and some seriously sweet vibes, I hope this gives you butterflies the way it gave me butterflies writing it. Thanks for reading—it means so much. — Jo)

P.s: this is my first fic i have posted on here!! Im not new at writing, but let me know if you guys want more :)

You weren’t supposed to fall in love with your story subject.

That was rule number one of journalism school. No dating your interviewees, no crushes on profile pieces, no getting involved. But rules felt irrelevant the first time Paige Bueckers smiled at you like you were more than another face with a notepad.

Your assignment was simple—write a semester-long feature on the UConn women’s basketball team for the student paper. Paige, naturally, was the center of the piece. A star on and off the court. Already a national name. Every sports journalist dreamed of covering her.

You were supposed to remain objective.

Instead, you were falling for her.

Hard.

—

It started with a dead recorder.

Your first real conversation wasn’t planned—unless you count fate as a planner. You’d been huddled near the sideline at practice, trying to record a quote from one of the assistant coaches when your recorder sputtered out and died mid-sentence. You swore under your breath and slapped it, like that ever helped.

Paige had been walking by, sipping on a water bottle, and stopped. “Need backup?”

You looked up, startled. “Only if you’ve got a time machine.”

She smiled. “Nope. But I’ve got the Voice Memos app.”

She handed over her phone like it was no big deal—like she hadn’t just offered you her lifeline. You blinked. “You trust a random reporter with your phone?”

“You don’t seem like the type to scroll through texts.” She leaned in with a smirk. “Besides, you’ve got an honest face. And a tragic relationship with electronics.”

You laughed, cheeks heating. She stayed next to you for a few minutes, watching as you wrapped up your interview with her phone in hand. When it was over, she texted you the audio file with the message:

“Try not to let your technology trauma ruin your career.”

You responded with a lame thank-you and a joke about threatening your recorder with a hammer. You didn’t expect her to reply.

But she did.

“Violence is rarely the answer, but I’ll allow it.”

From there, it snowballed. Texts turned into full-blown threads. Threads into daily check-ins. She started sending random memes between practices—some sports-related, some completely unhinged—and you’d match her energy with cursed TikToks and sarcastic commentary.

Then came the first FaceTime.

You were editing audio at 11:47 p.m. when her name lit up your screen. Paige Bueckers is FaceTiming you.

You stared at it for a second. Then answered.

She was wrapped in a hoodie with damp hair and tired eyes, lying in bed. “Hey,” she said softly. “Didn’t wanna be alone tonight.”

That first call lasted three hours.

You talked about everything: your major, her injuries, your complicated relationship with your hometown, her fear of letting people down. She confessed that sometimes, the pressure made her want to run away to a place where no one knew her name.

You said you understood.

After that, it became routine. Late-night FaceTimes. Morning Snapchats. Study breaks where she'd call and say, “Tell me something random,” and you’d ramble about your day while she half-listened, half-dozed.

—

The first time you hung out outside of school was under the guise of an interview follow-up.

She invited you to a local coffee shop—some cozy little place with plants in every window and tables just slightly too small. You showed up with your laptop and pages of notes. Paige showed up in a hoodie and beanie, no makeup, looking infuriatingly good.

You talked for two hours.

Only twenty minutes was about basketball.

She paid for your drink when you weren’t looking.

“I’ll Venmo you,” you said, pretending to dig for your phone.

She just shrugged. “Nah. Call it a reporter’s hazard fee.”

After that came more not-quite-dates. Study sessions in the campus library where she never actually studied. Walks through the trail behind the dorms where she'd kick pebbles and talk about life like it was something she hadn’t quite figured out yet.

One night, she invited you to “movie night” with the team.

You showed up with snacks and nerves, expecting a whole crowd.

But it was just her.

Two mugs of hot chocolate already on the table. A blanket tossed casually over the couch. She tried to play it off. “The others bailed,” she claimed with a sheepish shrug.

She was a terrible liar.

You stayed anyway.

She fell asleep halfway through the second movie with her head on your shoulder, and you didn’t dare move.

After that night, everything shifted.

—

There were moments. God, there were moments.

The way her hand would brush yours when she passed you something and linger—just a second too long. The way she’d light up when you walked into a room, like you were the only one she’d been waiting for. How she’d say things like:

“Sometimes I forget how to breathe around you.”

And then immediately pretend it was a joke.

You wanted to say it.

You almost did—on Valentine’s Day, when she left a note in your dorm mailbox with a chocolate bar and the words “you’re my favorite notification.”

But you chickened out.

Because if she didn’t feel the same way, you’d lose her. And that possibility was more terrifying than staying quiet.

But then came the silence.

She started pulling away. Fewer texts. Missed calls. Short replies like:

“Practice ran late.” “Sorry, just tired.” “Talk soon?”

And soon became never.

Until the day it broke.

—

It was cold. Rainy. The kind of day that made everything feel heavier. You were walking past the practice facility, hood up, heart aching, when you saw her.

Paige. Alone. Leaning against the wall like she was waiting for something—or someone.

You slowed. She looked up.

“I think we should stop,” she said.

Your stomach dropped. “Stop…?”

“This. Us. I don’t know what this is to you, and I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with not knowing.”

You blinked, throat closing.

“I’m not asking you to guess,” you managed to say.

“Well, then tell me,” she whispered. “Because I think about you all the time, and I don’t know how to make it stop. And it hurts, Y/N. It hurts not knowing if I’m just another story to you.”

And finally—finally—you said the words.

“You asked what love looks like to me.”

She held her breath.

“It looks like you. Like FaceTime calls at midnight and cold coffee on a Sunday morning. It’s how you fight through everything and still smile like you’re not carrying the weight of the world. I didn’t say it before because I was scared, but I’m more scared of losing you.”

Her eyes glossed. She stepped closer.

“You love me?” she asked, barely a whisper.

“I do.”

And when she kissed you, it was soft and shaky and real. Like exhaling after holding your breath for too long.

—

That night, your article sat unfinished.

She lay beside you on your tiny dorm bed, her hand brushing yours under the covers, the silence between you humming with peace.

“Say it again,” she murmured.

You smiled.

“I love you.”

Eight letters.

—

It had been twenty-six days since you told Paige you loved her.

Twenty-six days since she kissed you in the rain like her world had just started spinning again.

Twenty-six days since things finally became real.

And every single one of those days had felt like waking up in the softest dream.

Being with Paige wasn’t loud or flashy—not most of the time. It was slow mornings in bed, tangled limbs and quiet whispers. It was FaceTiming just to sit in silence while you both worked. It was warm hoodies borrowed without asking, and her stealing your socks because “they’re the soft ones.”

It was peace.

One Sunday morning, you found her asleep on your couch, wearing your crewneck and hugging your stuffed animal. She’d crashed the night before after watching movies in your room, the two of you curled together on your tiny dorm bed until she got too warm and rolled onto the floor, dramatically sighing, “This is why we need a queen-sized mattress and a lease.”

You’d laughed, thinking she was joking.

Then she blinked up at you and said, totally serious, “Like… a place. You and me. Off campus. Someday.”

Your heart soared, and you tucked the idea away like a wish on a star.

Later, she sleepily mumbled, “I want you in my mornings and my nights.”

And you knew she meant it.

—

Dating Paige came with little adventures.

Like the time she surprised you with a picnic—on a Tuesday.

You’d been having the worst week: deadlines, papers, zero sleep. Paige texted you in the middle of class: “Be ready at 6. Trust me.”

You met her behind the student union, expecting takeout and a movie.

Instead, she’d laid out a blanket under a canopy of fairy lights she somehow got from the volleyball team’s gear closet. There was music playing from a Bluetooth speaker, a thermos of your favorite hot cocoa, and a little box of cupcakes from the bakery you once mentioned you liked.

“I know you’re overwhelmed,” she said, pulling you into a hug. “So I’m forcing you to pause. Just for tonight.”

You nearly cried.

“I don’t deserve you,” you whispered.

She kissed your forehead and grinned. “Nah. We deserve each other.”

—

Her love came in a thousand small ways.

When your period hit hard, she showed up with snacks, heating pads, and the world’s ugliest cartoon pajamas she said were “scientifically proven to improve moods.” (They did.)

When she won a game, she didn’t go out with the team—she came to your place and danced with you barefoot in the kitchen to 2000s R&B.

When you got a bad grade on a paper and spiraled about being “not good enough,” she held your face in her hands and said, “You’re brilliant. One grade doesn’t get to rewrite the story.”

She never let you forget your worth—even when you did.

—

Your favorite tradition was Sunday mornings.

You’d wake up slow—her arm slung lazily around your waist, her cheek against your shoulder. She always looked soft in the mornings, voice scratchy, hair messy, face unfiltered.

“Don’t look at me,” she’d mumble, burying her face in the pillow.

You always did anyway.

You’d take turns making breakfast—read: burning toast and debating whether Pop-Tarts counted as a real meal. You’d play records on your vintage player, dance around the room in socks, kiss in the doorway like it was a scene from a movie.

She called you “home” once.

You didn’t say anything in return.

You just pulled her into your chest and held her tighter than words could manage.

—

There were no more secrets now.

People knew. Slowly, sure. But Paige had started holding your hand in public. At first on quieter streets, where no one looked. Then at campus parties. Then at a game.

After a home win, she ran over to the bleachers—where you were waiting—and kissed you in front of a thousand fans and a dozen cameras.

“I love you,” she said breathlessly. “Needed you to know before anything else.”

The video went viral. The team teased her endlessly.

She didn’t care.

Neither did you.

—

One night, lying in bed with your laptop open on your stomach and Paige half-asleep beside you, you said, “This is the happiest I’ve ever been.”

She looked up. “Because of me?”

You smiled. “Because of us.”

She kissed your shoulder and whispered, “Let’s stay like this forever.”

And maybe the future held more challenges—graduation, jobs, long-distance talks if things got complicated.

But for now, you had everything you needed.

Her heartbeat beside yours. Her laughter echoing in your chest. And the words you once feared to say now lived freely between you.

“I love you.” Eight letters. Forever on repeat.

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers uconn #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #paige bueckers #x reader #college wbb #uconn women’s basketball #Spotify

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fyodoro · 1 year ago

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UNEXPECTED LOVERBOY

-> in which you overhear your calm and secretive boyfriend gushing over you like there’s no tomorrow (1.1k wc)

Cw) gn!reader, manga characters (no spoilers), sakura still malfunctions when it comes to romance topics

Calling Hayato Suo an enigma would be an understatement.

Not a soul knows what lies under that eye patch. He’s calm, collected, and composed at almost all times, but it was a task of its own to grasp why. It’s impossible to catch him eating anything other than teacakes, and he often replaces his meals with a hot cup of tea. He claims to be on a diet, but every diet needs some protein incorporated into it.

Everything there is to know about Suo can be followed up with the same question: “Why?” and “What?”

However, there was an exception to his mysterious nature: You.

Of course, you didn’t know that. Hell, even Suo failed to notice his quite obvious soft spot for you until now. But as Nirei’s eye glittered with joy as he scribbled new notes onto Suo’s page in his notebook, and Sakura’s pupils shrunk with his cheeks flaunting a new shade of red, everyone knew.

Hayato Suo’s in love.

“(Name’s) a beauty, really. They may be rough around the edges at times, but I’ve never met anyone with a soul like theirs,” he babbled uncharacteristically.

He brought his teacup to his lips with closed eyes, missing the baffled expressions on everyone’s faces. But the moment he opened them, he couldn’t help but quirk a brow. “What’s with the shocked faces?”

Umemiya coughed into his hand graciously. “We’re just a little surprised, that’s all,” he began, too immersed in the conversation to notice you entering Kotoha’s cafe. “It’s not often you ramble like this.”

“I didn’t know Suo could be so open about his feelings,” Nirei exclaimed with a smile. “You must reallyyyy like (Name), huh?” he questioned, holding his pen in one hand and notebook in another as if this were an interview.

Suo’s head tilted. “Of course I do, that’s why I’m dating them.”

“You’ve been rambling on and on about (Name) for almost 10 minutes, it’s gross,” Sakura grumbled with flushed cheeks.

“But we wanna hear more! Keep going,” Nirei added.

Everyone looked at Suo attentively, including you. Somehow, the group failed to hear the bell chime when you entered the cafe. You’re clueless as to what’s going on, but it didn’t take a genius to realize it had something to do with you considering the amount of times your name was thrown around.

“My, if you insist,” Suo chuckled. “But I fear I’ve already said it all, unless I forgot to mention how cute it is when their cheeks puff up when they’re annoyed?”

Sakura held his head in his hands in fear that it’d melt off with how hot his face felt. “No, you didn’t. But we get it! You love (Name)!” he shouted.

“They’re impossible not to love,” Suo commented with his usual calm smile.

“That’s just Sakura’s romance sensor going haywire,” Kiryu teased. “Don’t mind him.”

The split-haired boy sulked in his seat, trying to dismiss the heat he felt on his face. “You’re all so…”

His voice trailed off, catching a glimpse of your frame standing behind Suo.

“Su-“

“Trust me, if you were in my shoes you’d be doing the same thing. (Name’s) one of a kind, not to mention beautiful. I can’t imagine a life without them, honestly.” The brunette went on, unbeknownst of your looming presence behind him. “Anyone can fall in love if their heart is stolen.”

“Someone like Suo being so head over heels in love… it must feel like a fairytale for (Name),” Umemiya chimed.

“Oh trust me, it does.”

Everyone’s heads turned to face you, except Sakura, who had noticed you seconds prior.

“(Name)?!”

“I didn’t know I could be such a fun subject of conversation, Hayato.” you teased, hands resting on your boyfriend’s shoulders as you leaned down to his ear.

He gulped, hiding his flustered heart through his relaxed exterior.

“We were just talking about you!” Nirei said happily. “Is it true? That Suo never lets you hold doors open, and holds them open for you? Or that he gave you his umbrella when it was pouring rain because he’d rather get soaked than risk you getting sick?” Oh! What about-“

The boy in question sat in silence, allowing Nirei to ask his heart away to confirm that this wasn’t one of his absurd lies.

You nodded at the blonde. “Yes, yes, yes, and yes. Except he technically kept the umbrella- he just held it over me so my hands wouldn’t get cold,” you corrected, recalling the awful weather of that day.

“What a romantic~” Tsubaki swooned.

“I try my best,” Suo smiled shyly.

“Suo never talks about his life! This is the most he’s ever told us, (Name)! Does he talk to you about his personal life?” Nirei inquired politely, trying not to make you feel pressured into answering.

You thought for a moment. For one, you felt honored that Suo didn’t wanna keep your relationship a secret like the rest of his life. But the blonde’s question made you realize something yourself- you really didn’t know much about your boyfriend’s personal life.

“Well… what can I say? He’s a mystery to everyone, including me.” you replied unsurely, glancing at Suo from the corner of your eye.

“Interesting…”

Nirei wrote something down in his notebook, and you didn’t bother looking. Instead, you held eye contact with Suo. He didn’t have to speak for you to know what he was thinking.

He wasn’t hiding anything from you. He just didn’t like talking about his past, and you understood.

“My love, you know more about me than anyone else in this room,” he stood after finishing the contents of his teacup. “After all, you were the one who told me to take baby steps, correct?”

You vaguely recalled those words. It was weeks ago, but he felt guilty for not telling you or anyone else about his history. In response, you told him to take as long as he needed, and baby steps were always the first steps.

“I did,” you affirmed. Your voice was soft, but it didn’t hide your intentions of making his heart pound a little harder. “But I didn’t think I'd catch you gushing over me like you’ve lost your composure~”

Suo almost broke, and you laughed.

“Woah, is Suo blushing?”

“Who could blame the guy? It’s the most open he’s been with us,” Hiragi commented with truth.

Kotoha giggled from behind the counter. “Not to mention how close (Name) is to him right now, it might be too much for the poor boy to handle.”

The red in Suo’s cheeks slowly faded, and he let out a small sigh. “I’ll see you all later, we’re gonna get going now,” he waved.

The two of you walked out hand in hand, and everyone else was left either baffled, confused, or unphased. Unless it was Sakura, who was somehow all three.

Little did you know, Nirei left a small comment on the corner of Suo’s page in his notebook.

‘Quite the loverboy.’

#wind breaker #windbreaker #windbre #wind breaker x reader #windbreaker x reader #windbre x reader #windbreaker fluff #suo hayato #suou hayato #suo x reader #suo hayato x reader #suo fluff #dor writes

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oh-katsuki · 1 year ago

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it's been a really long time since i wrote porn for porn's sake. here u go. it's alpha nanami :)) i don't have a title for it oops

cw: alpha!nanami, omega!reader, a/b/o, breeding, knotting, heat and rut cycles, dubcon on both sides, fingering, cohabitation, taboo, protective nanami, i feel like there is a slight primal kink in here, light dacryphilia,

wc: 3.1k

nanami didn't mean to take in a stray, but that's sort of how it happened. you're staying with him until a particularly careless friend helps to find a suitable living arrangement for you. nanami really isn't sure how it became his problem, but he'd feel awful if he'd told satoru no and left you without somewhere to go, no matter how against living with an omega he is.

frankly, nanami doesn't support the idea of alphas and omegas living together. he thinks it's a bit perverse. there's far too much at risk and the situation can become dangerous if it's the wrong pairing. sure, sometimes it works out. the better of his kind (of which he considers himself to be) give the necessary space and resist the temptation, but the others... take it too far. it'd be easier for you to live with a beta, and nanami wonders why satoru didn't first go to one of them. maybe your pheromones are weak and satoru isn't worried. that's probably why he hadn't noticed them when satoru first brought you by to ask if it'd be okay.

he knows that second gender is a spectrum. some alphas and omegas hardly emit any pheromones at all, even during heat and rut cycles. nanami thinks he likely falls into this category, seeing as he's never been particularly tempted by an omega and very few have ever been all too tempted by him, but it's a gamble. it's—frankly—unethical to ask this of him and though nanami knows that he should have said no, something in his good nature compelled him to say yes.

you've weak pheromones too, he thinks. he, of course, can feel them to a degree, but seeing as you mostly keep to yourself, it's hardly a problem in the first few weeks. frankly, the most tempting thing about you is that you're beautiful. you seem to have an almost standoffish air about you, proud and dignified, with a preference towards a more solitary and observant lifestyle. most of the day, the two of you hardly even see each other, going about your lives entirely separately only to settle into the same house for bed at night.

you don't say much when you're home. in fact, nanami would wonder if you could speak at all if it weren't for the conversations he hears you having on your phone and the little laughs or eyerolls you give in response to his comments. there's understanding there, but it's silent and you hardly ever dignify nanami's words or invitations with a response. maybe you're airing on the side of caution. he wouldn't blame you if you are. so, for the next two weeks the two of you coexist without so much as a hello between you both, silently sharing a space. you stay out of the way and nanami pretends that he isn't slightly unsettled by your constant proximity and the creeping feeling that you don't really like him all too much.

"they're a little difficult," says gojo over the phone. "kinda standoffish and really smart."

"so i've noticed," nanami responds. "i can't say i blame them though. you've put us in a weird spot."

"oh, nanamin, i know you well enough to know that you wouldn't lay a hand on them even if they begged," satoru laughs. "and they really might."

nanami grimaces at satoru's statement.

"i still don't understand why it had to be me," nanami says flatly. "you could have called ijichi. it'd probably be safer."

"how noble," satoru snickers, "but i trust you. hang in there a few more weeks. we've been working on securing an apartment for them and once we do, they'll be out of your hair. you're an angel for letting them stay." he sing-songs into the receiver. nanami holds it away from his ear.

"sure," he says. "it's not really much trouble... it's just.."

"that they're an omega. i get it. stay strong or whatever lol," satoru laughs. "unless of course, you really like them."

nanami huffs and hangs up the phone. satoru's got a good head on his shoulders, but he knew where that conversation was going. satoru was likely to say something about your heat cycle and nanami, being an optimist in cases like these, hopes silently that it won't come for another two weeks. he knows he could ask, but he worries about coming across as something of a creep. nanami is a little orthodox in the sense that he believes alphas and omegas should be separate for this reason exactly. suppressants exist but they don't always work and though nanami has sense about him, he's always had an insecurity about the kind of monster his second gender could make him. it sets him at ease a little that your pheromones appear as weak as they are.

you round the corner into the living room, standing just on the far end of the room. you're wearing pajamas, but you seem to feel no need to cover yourself or hide any perceived indecency. nanami glances at you, making a point to avoid looking at the shape of your body. it's inviting and you look at him for a moment with a small smile before raising one single eyebrow and letting out a low huff of air. nanami decides that you'd heard his conversation and he watches you shake your head as you move to the kitchen to peruse what he has. your hips, swaying slightly with each step, draw his attention to the curve of your ass and he feels ashamed for even having looked.

you're beautiful, that's certain. even the way you move is beautiful. nanami has eyes enough to see that. something stirs inside of you when he speaks, wordless recognition, maybe amusement or irritation, and vice versa. regardless, it's beautiful and nanami finds that the longer you're here the more he has to swallow it down.

you seem to get a little uncomfortable if nanami has people over, even for a moment. not that you've ever said anything about it, but you appear set on edge when he does so in the following weeks, it leads him to not bring anyone over at all. he can't bear the idea of making you uncomfortable. for as little as you've spoken to him since you've been here, nanami finds that he's grown rather fond of you. if things continue this way, he should hate it when you leave. admittedly though, he's looking forward to it a little. nanami feels that you're... a temptation. one he can't really seem to overcome.

one evening, you sit down in the living room with him. it draws his attention to look at you.

"i'm not mean, you know," you say flatly.

nanami is astounded to hear the cadence of your voice so clearly and without prompt. he can only offer a nod in return.

"i'm just picky," you continue, shifting in your seat as if you're made uncomfortable by the way you're sitting. "i have to be, being the way i am and all."

"i understand. i'm not offended," nanami says. "but some people would probably call that rude."

you smile at him, coy and delicate. "would you?"

"maybe," he offers. "if the circumstances were different."

nanami clears his throat, furrowing his eyebrows at your body language. something's off and he wonders if maybe your cycle has begun. he shifts on the couch and turns his full attention to you.

you move over to him and sit just adjacent to his leg. something in him stirs, primal and unrecognizable. you've never been this close and he only now notices that you smell nice, like something light and fresh.

nanami feels his chest stir. "this is the most you've ever said to me, i think."

"sorry," you say.

"don't be," he responds.

this conversation is awkward. it's loaded. it's like a conversation between two people who can't exchange more than a few words without experiencing intense sexual tension. he clears his throat.

"i need your help," you mumble, shifting closer. he knows what you're implying.

"i can't help you," nanami responds through gritted teeth.

"please," you say, standing slowly. you linger in front of him for a moment before reaching out and slowly straddling his legs. nanami flinches as you settle on him, pausing for a moment to breathe. "touch me."

you place your head against his shoulder, fingers grabbing his shirt as if you're agitated. the skin of your cheek is warm against his collarbone and he can feel your hair against his jaw. you twitch lightly when you touch him. carefully, he places a large hand on your head. your whole body flinches, unbelievable warmth soaking into his skin.

you feel like you have a fever and the next time you raise your head, your eyes have gone glassy, face darker. your lips are wet and lightly parted and a layer of sweat covers your forehead.

"not like that," you say, something needy creeping into your voice.

nanami, against his better judgement, rests his hands on your waist. you shudder under his touch and he slowly strokes the exposed skin of your sides with his fingers. trailing the pads of them against raised goosebumps on your skin. between your legs, he can feel heat. he knows you're wet and he knows what you want. nanami isn't sure he can give it to you, he's unsure that he should. it's not illegal, but he feels that it's wrong. something about it is fundamentally wrong and the situation goes against all of his morals. his mind still wanders.

you rest your forehead against his chest, and he feels your pheromones as they hit his nose and soak in through his skin. his body responds, tensing. your breath picks up, little heaves and pants, and you squirm down against him almost involuntarily. nanami feels himself grow hard. it surprises him and shames him. he feels heat rise to his cheeks at the realization that he's pressing up against the inside of your leg, something that makes you stir and settle directly over him. every exhale from you is a borderline whine and the syrupy smell of you grows more intense by the moment. nanami still runs his fingers along your sides, venturing over your tummy and back occasionally.

"just a little bit," you command, rubbing your cheek against him and then placing your mouth on the side of his neck and biting. "i'm sorry. just a little bit."

nanami winces and you drag your hips over him. his hands fly to yours, gripping hard enough as you make you whine.

"i can't," he grits out, speaking directly against the way his cock throbs against your core. he can feel it's dampness, a humidity that soaks through his pants.

"it hurts," you mutter and nanami feels an unpleasant stirring in his stomach. he hates the thought of you being uncomfortable.

"maybe we can find help-" you twitch over him, making him wince, "for you."

you shake your head, "you."

nanami exhales and tips his head back, his fingers still on your waist. he weighs the outcomes of this in his mind. he could push you off and fix you a blanket and a safe space, give you some tools to help yourself and then plug his ears and pretend he doesn't want to do it himself. he imagines the buzzing sound, the way you'd whimper from the other room over, still unfulfilled despite the aid. he thinks about your fingers between your legs, unsatisfying and only serving to worsen the itch. it makes him strangely jealous, nauseous almost, that you should be so uncomfortable in his presence.

you exhales against him and it's a near defeated sound. nanami's fingers buzz with adrenaline, his cock swelling and throbbing every time you so much as shift over him. there's a lack of control in this situation and his fingers move to comfort you almost against his will.

something natural and easy takes over as he slides a big hand down to the front of you and cups your cunt. it feels almost like an out of body experience, but both yours and nanami's humanity drips away slowly to make room for these primal actions. you shudder and nanami's chest swells with relief as he sees your expression. there's a need within him to care for you. it's protective, the same way he'd feel if you were in physical danger.

nanami moves his four fingers over you slowly, his breathing hitching as you push your body against him. he can feel your dampness soaking through your thin shorts and it isn't long before your relief gives way to more need.

"just this once, nanami," you breath against his neck. "please."

nanami's head is filled with something syrupy. probably you. it's probably a chemical reaction caused by you and he knows that any pheromones you're releasing are probably being released in equal amounts by him. they take up space in the room, crowding him so that all he can focus on is you, is the need between your legs that calls to him like song.

"okay," he gives in, pulling your panties to the side and dipping his fingers into you.

you shudder and let out a short cry, thighs trembling. he knows he won't be able to satisfy you like this, but he wants to try. nanami knows though that there is no such thing as nipping it in the bud with these sorts of things and as he begins to move his fingers inside of you with a beckoning motion, he feels himself slip farther away.

you're so wet, dripping down his fingers. your pussy clenches around them, begging for a knot, sucking the two digits up into you and then threatening to push them out. nanami has been with omegas before, but he's never felt himself slip away like this. his humanity leaves him in favor of something animal.

nanami shushes you quietly as he pulls his fingers from your body. you whine and squirm against him, pressing down and grinding against the bulge in his pants. he sucks in a sharp breath and quickly discard your bottoms, leaving you bare and exposed in his lap.

your cunt is sticky and shining, glistening with your wetness. he can smell it, the way you're probably fertile, and the perverse thought crosses his mind that maybe you deliberately avoided your suppressants so that he could do this to you. how out of character for him to think that.

for someone so proper, he makes quick work of pressing the head of his cock against your entrance. you push your body forward to try to take him in and nanami very quickly slides into you. you're tight and with the way your cunt makes him feel, he knows that the stretch must hurt you, but he can't seem to stop. he's so focused on quelling the ache within you, buried deep in that spot where his knot will inevitably catch.

you are barely capable of forming words now, dumb and deaf with your heat. any words of comfort nanami offers to you seem to go in one ear and out the other, but he offers them anyway. they're automatic and they come without his even needing to think about them. things about taking care of you, about knotting you the way you're begging him to, about making sure you're never alone when you have to do this. if he were in a better state of mind, he'd be mortified.

instead, he fucks his hips up into you, holding you by the waist against his throbbing cock. then, when that isn't enough, he lays you on your back on the couch and presses your knees to your chest so that he can go deeper. he needs to get deep enough to where his knot will catch, to be able to stay there to ensure it catches properly. he feels the way air leaves you with every fuck of his hips.

you raise your hand to touch his face, eyes glassed over and watering as gentle tears slip down your cheeks. a silent encouragement that pulls him from his thoughts back to you. nanami turns his head instinctively and kisses the palm of your hand. then, he takes your thumb into his mouth and bites down on the fleshly part at the base of it. he could draw blood if he wanted, but he doesn't. instead he takes your hand as it falls from his lips and kisses you plainly again on the palm before pinning it above your head.

"i'll take care of you," he grunts out and you nod deliriously.

nanami makes quick work of knotting you. he bullies his cock as far in as it will go, swelling and swelling until he sticks. you squirm as he does, gasps growing higher in pitch until you're silenced by the pressure deep in your abdomen. you cum around him, he thinks, pussy fluttering as it throbs around his knot. then, you exhale as the heat recedes into the background with this momentary relief.

nanami winces as he holds himself up over you, slowly returning to his head as the swell of pheromones recedes and leaves only the feeling of the space he takes up in your cunt.

you search his face for something, benevolence maybe, and nanami places a wide palm to your cheek.

"i'm sorry," he breathes as words find him again. "i didn't intend to-"

you shake your head, returning to yourself as well. "don't be, i wanted to."

nanami isn't really sure what to say and you wince under him as he settles his weight a little further, throbbing lightly at the mention.

"hold me," you ask and nanami obliges. he settles fully over you before lifting you so that you're straddling his lap again. you wince and nanami soothes you by gently stroking your face. it's automatic again, the urge to comfort you is well beyond his control.

something in you triggers something in him and it is two full days before either of you are lucid and well enough to separate. satoru calls him multiple times, but nanami ignores him, too preoccupied with his unexpected rut and keeping you comfortable. at present, he's well past the initial guilt and frankly, entirely hellbent on deciding that you should stay. so much for his practicality, nature won out in the end.

nanami doesn't really think he'll ever hear the end of this, especially not from satoru who, when he inevitably gets a hold of them, will tease so relentlessly that it might shock nanami and you back into your senses. he decides to hide out here with you for a little longer, filling the room with the scent of you both until it crowds out everything else. he likes the way you feel nestled up beside him, messy and breathing deeply as you sleep.

a tag for my friends @antizenin and @kentocidal bc they asked!!!

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #tw: a/b/o #tw: breeding #tw: dubcon #i can't find my writing tag #also there are prob spelling mistakes in here i apologize #i apologize if this isnt very good

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reidmarieprentiss · 9 months ago

Note

hii. Idk if this is too weird/confusing… but

I have this idea of post prison reid and bau agent reader.. We all know that post-prison, reid is like different.. he’s more rough looking (??That beard, rolled up sleeves and disheveled look) but also carry himself with so much more confident? And how he gets more muscle. Overall just getting sexier. But we also know he’s got a lot of trauma bc of what happened. Maybe the reader is loving this whole changes, but as a gf, she’s also kind of worried about his wellbeing. Maybe when he caught the reader eyeing him and got distracted by how good he looks given everything (you can get a little suggestive), but it turns to a conversation about this whole ‘change’ thing??? you can go with it however you think best.

I just.. i think a lot about post-prison reid, how it feels like he burried most of his discomfort/trauma so quickly and idk maybe just started to put up this tough guy kind of ‘persona’ (at least for what i felt watching him in s13-s14 ish lol)

Anyways! You can write however you think best with this. Thankyou so much!! Love your work🫶🏻🥰 💜

Not Strong Enough

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings/Includes: post prison Spencer, crying, showering together, prison flashback (kinda)

Word count: 1.7k

a/n: this was such a good request omgggg i hope you like it 🫶🏻 and thank you so much for trusting me to write it ! <3

main masterlist

The evening sun cast a warm, golden hue across the apartment you and Spencer shared, the place you had carefully maintained while he was away. The familiar scent of his cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the subtle aroma of the dinner you had prepared earlier. You were in the living room, absently flipping through a book, though your eyes kept drifting toward the doorway where you knew Spencer would appear any moment.

When he finally did, your breath caught in your throat for the hundredth time since his return. Spencer leaned against the doorframe, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off those arms that had grown more defined during his time away. His hair was a bit longer, tousled in a way that seemed deliberate, and the beard—God, that beard—framed his face in a way that made him look both dangerous and irresistible. He had always been handsome, but now there was something different, something more rugged, more raw, about him.

You loved it. You couldn’t deny that every time you looked at him, a heat blossomed in your chest, and you often found yourself getting lost in daydreams that weren’t always appropriate. But beneath that attraction was a worry that gnawed at you, a concern for the man beneath the changes.

Spencer caught your gaze, his lips quirking into a small, knowing smile as he pushed off the doorframe and walked over to you. “You’re staring,” he teased, his voice low, a hint of amusement in his tone.

You couldn’t help the blush that crept up your neck, but you didn’t look away. “Can you blame me?” you replied, letting your eyes travel up and down his body with unabashed appreciation. “You look… so good, Spencer. God. Really good.”

He chuckled softly, sitting down next to you on the couch, his presence commanding your full attention. “Is that so?” he asked, leaning in closer, his eyes darkening as they locked onto yours. “What’s so good about me?”

Your breath hitched at the proximity, and for a moment, you forgot the concern you had been harboring, lost in the way his presence seemed to envelop you. “You know exactly what I mean,” you murmured, your hand coming up to trace the line of his jaw, feeling the roughness of his beard against your fingers. “You’ve… changed. Not just how you look, but how you carry yourself. There’s this confidence, this… edge.

Spencer’s eyes softened, the playful glint fading as he turned his head slightly to press a kiss to your palm. “I’m still me,” he said, though there was a note of uncertainty in his voice, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

You nodded, your heart aching at the vulnerability you could sense just beneath the surface. “I know you are. But… I’m worried about you, Spencer. You went through so much, and I know you’re strong, but sometimes… it feels like you’re trying to be someone you’re not. Like you’re putting on this tough exterior to hide what’s really going on inside.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he leaned back against the couch, his hand slipping into yours. “I guess… I had to be tough in there. It’s not easy to just turn that off, you know? And maybe… maybe it’s easier to pretend I’m okay than to face everything that happened.”

You squeezed his hand, your heart breaking a little at his words. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Spencer. You don’t have to be strong all the time. I love you, and I’m here for you, no matter what.”

Spencer looked at you, his eyes searching yours, and for a moment, the mask he had been wearing since his return slipped, revealing the hurt and the fear that he had been burying deep inside. “I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared that if I let myself feel everything, it’ll break me.”

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, hoping to convey all the love and support you felt for him. “Then let me help you carry it,” you whispered against his lips. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

He kissed you back, deeper this time, his hands coming up to cup your face as if grounding himself in your presence. When he pulled back, there was a softness in his eyes, a vulnerability that you hadn’t seen in a long time. “Thank you,” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours. “For being here. For loving me, even like this.”

You smiled, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “Always,” you promised. “No matter what, I’m here.”

Spencer pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if you were the anchor keeping him from drifting away. And in that moment, you knew that no matter how much he had changed, no matter how much he tried to bury his pain, he would always be the man you loved. And you would be there, every step of the way, to help him find his way back to himself.

—

The sound of the shower running had become a comforting backdrop in your shared apartment, signaling Spencer's return to some semblance of normalcy. But tonight, something was different. As you passed by the bathroom, you heard the faintest sniffle, a sound so soft you almost dismissed it. Almost.

You paused, hand hovering over the doorknob as concern twisted in your chest. Slowly, you opened the door a crack, peeking inside to see Spencer standing under the spray, his back to you. His shoulders were hunched, and you could see the subtle shake in his frame as he tried to keep himself together.

"Spence? Baby?" you called gently, your voice barely above a whisper.

He gasped, the sound muffled by the water cascading over him. "Hi, darling. What's up?" His voice was strained, an obvious attempt to mask the turmoil you knew he was feeling.

"Are you okay?" you ventured, your heart aching as you waited for his response.

There was a long pause, the sound of the water the only thing filling the space between you. Finally, he sighed, the weight of it heavy with unspoken pain. "...No."

You stepped into the bathroom then, your concern outweighing any hesitation. "Can I come in?"

"In the shower?" His voice wavered.

"Yes, baby," you replied, letting a small, reassuring smile creep into your tone, hoping to ease his mind even just a little.

You heard his quiet "yeah" before you quickly stripped down, the urgency to comfort him overriding any other thought. When you stepped into the shower, the warm water cascading over your skin, you found him standing still, his hands clenched at his sides, as if he were trying to hold himself together by sheer will alone.

Without a word, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder blade. You held him close, your touch gentle but firm, grounding him in the present, away from whatever memories had resurfaced.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you asked softly, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

Spencer's chest heaved with deep, shuddering breaths, the kind that come right before a sob breaks free. "I guess…I was just remembering what it was like to shower…there."

He didn’t need to say more. You knew what he meant, the horror of those confined spaces, the fear that had accompanied every moment, the helplessness that had seeped into his bones. Your heart ached for him, for the pain he was carrying, the trauma he was trying so hard to bury.

Gently, you spun him around, cupping his face in your hands. His eyes were squeezed shut, tears already mingling with the water on his face. You brought his head down to yours, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead, lingering there as if you could somehow kiss away the memories, the pain.

"You’re home, you’re safe, and you survived," you whispered against his skin, your voice filled with all the love and reassurance you could muster.

He nodded, his breath hitching as the first sob escaped, his tears flowing freely now. You held him as he cried, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. He clung to you, his hands fisting in your hair, as if afraid to let go, afraid that if he did, the memories would swallow him whole.

But you held him, strong and steady as you whispered soothing words into his ear. "I’m here, Spence. I’m not going anywhere."

Minutes passed, or maybe hours, you weren’t sure. Time seemed to stand still as you held him, the water now running cold but neither of you caring. Eventually, Spencer’s sobs quieted, his breathing evening out as he rested his head against your shoulder, utterly spent.

You kissed the side of his head, gently guiding him to turn off the water. "Come on, let’s get you dried off."

He nodded, his movements slow, almost reluctant, as if he feared the weight of the world would crash back down the moment you let go. But you didn’t let go, not even for a second. You wrapped him in a towel, guiding him to the bed, where you both sat down, still wrapped around each other.

As you pulled the covers over you both, Spencer rested his head on your chest, his arms around your waist, holding you close. "Thank you for being here," he murmured, his voice hoarse from crying, but laced with gratitude.

You stroked his damp hair, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Thank you for coming back."

And as you held him close, you knew that no matter what demons he faced, no matter how broken he felt, you would be there, every step of the way, helping him piece himself back together. Because you loved him—every part of him, even the broken ones—and you would never let him face the darkness alone.

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tag list <333 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle

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millersfinest · 6 months ago

Text

the thing in your chest that beats ² | e.w

santa barbara!ellie williams & ex-firefly!reader

wc: 4.5k

mini-series: california | oregon (you’re here) | idaho | wyoming

blurb: you put up a good fight with those rattlers, but it wasn’t good enough—all it got you was strung up near a beach where the sun scorched you dry. abruptly, their set-up gets fucked by their own prisoners, saving your life by only a thread. but the wrath that lingered under your skin was immense, and you’re not the only one to experience that phenomenon. when another damaged soul encounters your brittle state; the dreams that put you in a tough position manifest into reality. along with a few extra miscellaneous things…

cw: angry!r, slow-burn romance, eventual smut, proximity trope, both reader and ellie on a path of redemption, afab body parts mentioned, vulgar language, reader being complicated, mentions of attraction, inner guilt, use of ‘y/n’ and ‘woman’.

note: honestly i just can’t wait for them to kiss (spoiler: not this chapter). but they’re learning to trust each other. just know in the idaho ch we’re gonna be UP! please, enjoy this for now!! (also: i hope the lot of you voted for the presidential election. these are very very important times #harriswaltz2024)

Oregon

Several days and nights were spent on a boat, cruising up the coast of California. It was one of those livable boats, where you could hide from the sun in a room with stable furniture to eat on, and a bed to sleep on. You spent a lot of your time inside the hatch, analyzing a map that Ellie had labeled with a marker. Hoping that you’d maintain your luck enough to actually see Wyoming for yourself.

Ellie had confessed that she came from Jackson, but she still hadn’t told you the why. Instead of asking about it, you refrained, in turn, asking about the settlement. Were the people kind? Did they have horses? Because you heard they had horses.

Those were the questions she could answer easily, with little to no hesitation. Until your questioning began to irritate her—which, in turn, irritated you.

The two of you bickered over the smallest of things in those days on the water. It could’ve been the heat, or the rationed food, or even your similar personalities. You couldn’t help but clash every chance you got. By the time the two of you drifted onto the coastline of Oregon, the conversations had diminished—because of your stubborn attitudes.

Leaving behind the boat was a drag, but there’s wasn’t much of a choice. The rest of the journey toward Wyoming was going to be on foot. Over cracked pavements and between dewey trees. If only the trip could be simplified by the use of a boat—it would be less extraneous.

The weather had gotten significantly cooler the more north you traveled. The mornings were the coolest, and the days were chilled with a gentle breeze. It would rain eighty percent of the time, which made it harder for you and Ellie to continue the trek. But both of you were resilient.

Somewhere between Salem and Portland, you found yourselves looking for a place to stay for the night. You had run across some nefarious people when you first arrived at the coast; and you’ve been recovering ever since. Trying to collect as many things as possible on the road to make up for the lost ammo and supplies. Which is what led to you looking for a place to crash in, basically, pitch black darkness. Navigating the dewey wood with nothing but the lights attached to your bags.

Droplets of water slipped off the waxy green leaves of the trees above. Splashing onto you—and it was shocking every time. The climate sent a gentle chill up your spine, so the water was even colder. Ellie walked ahead of you, mumbling under her breath from the lack of shelter. Her agitation was ruminating off her skin like a furnace. “We should’ve never gone this way— there’s nothing out here!”

Her agitation was obviously laced with panic. Ellie was exhausted from all the traveling and worries about conflict. “We entered a campsite a few miles back. At the very least there should be a cabin out here.” You surmised, squinting your eyes trying to defy the darkness. The auburn-haired woman scoffed under her breath, adjusting the hood of her raincoat. “If you wanna take a break, just say that.” You reached for her wrist, pulling gently. “It’s been a long day…”

“Absolutely not. We need a place to sleep tonight— with a roof.” Ellie pulled her arm away, placing her hands onto her hips. Her head hung low, clearly fatigued.

“How about this: you park it by this tree for a little bit, while I walk around to see if I can find somethin’ for us.” You offer, shrugging your shoulders, casually. The both of you were exhausted, but it seemed that Ellie was suffering a bit more than you were. Was that not that point of a team? To tap in someone else when you need it. Plus, you really felt that there was a cabin nearby. There had to be one. Most campsites had cabins that hikers and campers would go to before they began their adventures. For supplies or even important notices about wild animals.

Or, maybe, you watched too much tv at the firefly base.

She shook her head. “No chance. Separating in the dark doesn’t sound like a good idea to me. What? So, you can get lost and give us another problem to deal with?”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you press your lips into an irritated line. “Are you seriously insulting my intelligence, right now?” You raised an eyebrow, glaring at the woman in front of you. “I was a firefly for six years of my life—“

“Oh, my God! The whole world knows that you were a fucking firefly, y/n. No need for the reminder.”

Ellie began to walk in another direction, sternly. You scoffed, following after her like confused duckling—which was an embarrassing thought. “You’re so insufferable. All I was trying to do was help you out— because to be honest, you’re not handling this well.” You quip, walking by her side with your hands shoved into your pockets.

She scoffed. “How could I handle this well? Please, tell me.” Stopping in her tracks, she glares at you. Olive irises blown out from the darkness around her, boring into your aggressive frame.

Taking a step closer to her, the corners of your lips curled, mischievously. “You could start by taking a fucking break and letting me take the lead.” There was something that differed between you and Ellie’s versions of frustration and anger. She took it up a level, while you brought it down. It could fool an idiot into thinking you weren’t mad at all, when really you were fuming. The pace of your voice was slow, almost menacing. True fire remained behind your eyes, in your posture—the way your lip twitched as you spoke.

“I’m not some damsel in distress you pull everywhere then blame when shit goes wrong.” You added, taking in her battered features. The scar in her eyebrow and her top lip. The freckles under her peeling skin from the days aboard. “I have a great sense of direction; I’ll have you know.” As you spoke, she examined your features the same way you did. “Stop arguing with me, sit your ass down, drink some water— and i’ll be back in twenty minutes tops!”

Ellie rolled her tongue in her mouth, averting her eyes from you. She was too stubborn to admit her own exhaustion to you—she’d rather be in control of the situation than someone she barely knew. Someone, who at the start of this trip, was, in fact, a damsel in distress. Your body had healed in the days since departing Santa Barbara. Not completely, but in progress. You were walking better, even though you still had a bit of a limp.

Her focus on you made it easy to forget her own ailments. The missing fingers on her left hand, the wound on her abdomen. They were healing, surprisingly. However, her attention still remained on your well-being.

She sighed, itching her nose with her index finger. “Fine. Whatever.” Ellie shrugged her backpack off, leaning against the tree. “Just come back in one piece, yeah?” Somehow, she managed to sound insulting with her hidden words of weariness.

You snickered, narrowing your eyes. “Is that worry I’m sensing or…?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

With that, you backed toward the path, chuckling under your breath. Adjusting the hood over your head, you focused to begin looking for the cabin that you just knew was close by. Feet crunching over dead leaves and sticks that were imbedded in the mud.

The light attached to the strap of your bag began to flicker as you pushed between the trees. “Come on…” You hit the light to stabilize it. “Now is not the time.”

When you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light.

Your past affiliations haunted you like a ghost. Somehow, you always found yourself looking for that light. Perhaps, in this case, it’s Jackson, Wyoming—a place far from what you know. That was more of a long-term goal, though. The light you were currently looking for was a building made of wood, preferably insulated.

Ahead of you, you weren’t sure if you were seeing things, but what you were hoping for was coming into view. The brightness of the moon illuminating the starry sky outlined the top of the cabin, exposing its silhouette. In excitement, you rushed toward the building, peaking through the foggy windows. From what you could see, there was nothing inside but old furniture. Thankfully, no infected. You were beat; the last thing you wanted to do was fight that damn virus.

As you peeked through every window you could find, jiggling door handles to try and find a way in, you realized it was a home. Not some hiking administration building you surmised would be around the trail. Spending enough time circling the cabin, you pick up a rock from the ground to crack a window. You were getting in that house one way or another.

The rectangular shape was rather high for your reach. Huffing, you dug your fingers into the divots of the logs. It wasn’t the best grip, but it was enough to get you into that window. After throwing your body through the hole, you landed on the ground with a thud. A shallow pain throbbed in your thigh—the one that Ellie had stitched for you back in Santa Barbara. Shutting your eyes, you took in a breath from the slight pain. You weren’t one hundred percent just yet.

Exhaling, you stood tall on your feet to get a look at the interior. A long plaid couch was placed in front of what used to be a fireplace. Burned logs was still lying in the pit, but they burned to a crisp. You were certain that if you touched them, they would fall apart under the weight of your hand. The dirt shapes on the walls symbolized that picture use to fill this space—the cabin was drained of life.

It’s only source of existence was the fact that you were standing in it.

Before leaving to retrieve Ellie, you jogged up the steep stairs of the cabin. To check the upstairs rooms for any infected or people. You must’ve been one lucky woman, because there was nothing but dust occupying those rooms. Quickly, you went through the front door to grab your partner.

Crunching on leaves and sticks, you startled her. Ellie was spotted sat in front of the tree, leaning her back with her eyes closed—which was the least smart thing to do, but she was tired. The sound of your boots crushing the elements of the forest jolted her from her light sleep. She gripped her switchblade in a fist, looking at you with determination. “Fuck,” She sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. “I thought you were someone else…”

“Nope. Just me.” You breathed, watching her as she stood to her feet. “There’s a cabin about ten minutes from this spot.” Crossing your arms, a slight smile rested on your lips. A smile screaming I-told-you-so.

Ellie slung her bag around her shoulders, dusting off her jeans; doing everything to ignore your antics. “Are we just gonna stand here, or are you gonna show me where it’s at?”

Sucking your teeth, you pivoted, rolling your eyes. She was such a sore loser. It felt good to be right, and for her to be wrong. You didn’t get lost like she thought—instead, you carried out exactly what you planned: finding shelter for the night.

The two of you approached the cabin, Ellie releasing a sigh of relief. Hallow sounds of your shoes walking up the steps of the wooden porch sounded. You opened the door, allowing her to walk through. Staring her down with same smile you had a few minutes ago. “Nice place, huh?” You asked, shutting the door behind you, turning the lock.

She meandered inside, surveying the interior. Her fingers slide along the dusty bannister above the fireplace, pursing her lips. “Not bad…” Ellie lifted an eyebrow, peering over her shoulder at you. Lifting her finger, she eyed the dust that stuck to her skin.

“Told you there was a cabin around here somewhere.”

“I knew you were gonna say that.” Ellie chuckled, dryly. Taking moderate steps toward the kitchen. Every time you stopped, she insisted that inventory was taken of all of your supplies. She achingly tugged her backpack off, sighing. You followed behind her, leaning your arms against the counter—watching her tired movements.

“Why are you looking at me?” She dropped her hands onto the counter, with that familiar irritated glint in her eyes.

You purse your lips. “You know I could do this, right?” Shrugging off your bag, you swing it onto the counter. There was a slight sway to Ellie—the only reason being her exhaustion. “We’ve done this a number of times; you can go rest up. There are three bedrooms upstairs— take your pick.”

Ellie scoffed, continuing the work in front of her. Counting under her breath. You grit your jaw, glaring at her. She was truly insufferable—moments like these really highlighted that. Her stubbornness and pride amounted about the same to yours; causing you to wonder… Were you just as bad? You pity the friends you had in your youth if that was the case. Releasing a meditative breath, you placed a hand over hers. “Seriously, Ellie, I got it. Go get some sleep.”

She looks at you through her eyelashes, allowing your skin to remain on hers. “Aren’t you tired, too?”

“Yeah, but not as much as you… I could stand to be up for a little while longer. You on the other hand…”

She pulled her hand from under yours, pushing off her wet hood. Her auburn strands were damp, sticking to her freckled skin. “All right. Make sure to write down the things we don’t have that we need.”

“I know.”

“And mark the items that we’re running low on.”

“Again, I know.” You motion with her hand to run along with amused eyes. Waiting to begin, you watch as she hesitantly walks toward the steep wooden stairs around the corner.

It was like pulling teeth for Ellie to willingly hand over responsibility to you. In her mind, she was still doing you a favor—she was working for you. But being that she was extremely tired, her inhibitions loosened. The touch of your skin to hers, surprisingly, comforted her concerns; made her sleepier. She heavily stepped up the stairs, leaning on the railing for support.

She walked into the first bedroom she saw. The light from the moon cascaded through the window that the queen-sized bed was pushed against. Shedding her damp clothing, she spread them out onto a dresser before getting into the bed. Before nodding off, she peered out the window with a burdened mind. Remembering the bulk of her actions leading up to Santa Barbara. With the added misfortune of Santa Barbara. Then… You.

The moon reflected over a sparkling pier, that was down a hill behind the cabin. The lake was completely in her view, rippling subtly from the fish beneath the surface. She cracked a smile, peering at the beautiful sight. Rolling up a pillow, she propped it up enough to let that be the final thing she sees before sleeping. Using the elements of the earth as a night cap.

She’d woken up many times throughout the night, but she was used to that habit. When the sun peaked through her window, Ellie had gotten as much sleep as she could have. The smell of cooked fish had wafted into her nostrils, pulling her from the old mattress. With a groan, she swung her legs over, rubbing her eyes.

In a blur, from the corner of her eyes, she saw a figure walking toward the pier. Blinking, she leaned on the pillows against the window, watching as the figure began to remove their clothes—it was you. Ellie watched as you dropped your items, carelessly, before jumping into the water. For the first time in awhile, her mind went blank. Completely empty.

Well… Not that empty.

She checked the clothes she had on from the night before, and for some reason, they still were damp. Enough moisture resided in her jeans that she didn’t feel comfortable putting them back on. Sighing, she began searching through the drawers for anything she could put on in the meantime.

Finding a pair of plaid pajama pants, she slid those on, throwing her holed band t-shirt over her sports bra. “What time is it?” She patted her jeans for the watch she carried with her. Cursing under her breath, she realized it was left in her backpack.

Quickly, Ellie found herself navigating to the first floor. Her eyes widened at the organized sight of all of your supplies. You had grouped similar items together and left a piece of paper with the amounts in each group. At the bottom of the page, you had written a list of the items you needed more of. Ellie’s watch was sitting on the end of the counter, properly placed. “You have outdone yourself…” She muttered, picking up the paper you scribbled on.

When she flipped it over, the subtle grin her lips faded. Seeing the sorrowful words written on the page. Since leaving Santa Barbara, she noticed you pulling out this letter a lot. The one you fetched from under that infected woman. You had never gone into what this letter or note meant to you—probably, because she never asked. That didn’t mean she wasn’t curious about it, though. Ellie never would’ve expected that you’d write on it over something as silly as taking inventory.

There were so many things she didn’t understand about you.

The aroma of fish filled her nostrils again, leading her to slab of rock placed on the counter. A coverage of cloth was placed over the fish to ward off flies. She peeked under it, seeing a perfectly scaled and grilled fish. Hunger got the best of her, and she began to eat the fish with her hands. Humming at the satisfaction of filling her stomach.

After, she grabbed the cracked watch to check the time. It was ten in the morning, the both of you should’ve been back on the road.

Pressing her lips into a line, she walked out the back door to alert you. Her fingers fiddling with the plaid cotton on her legs.

The air was fairly cool, but the sun warmed you up. Basking in the lake was like splashing your face with cold water in the morning—it was a wake-up call. Something that you needed after the night you had. In the room across from Ellie’s, the bed was too firm, and the sheets were too prickly. Your mind kept you up with the image of Honey’s infected body. And, whenever you did shut your eyes, you were back on those pillars again.

You had no choice but to get up early and occupy yourself. So, you fished for a little while, then cooked what you caught—for yourself and the sleeping woman upstairs. After that, you thought you could use a bath. And there was nothing more satisfying than cool lake water—nature’s finest.

You allowed the water to engulf you, embracing your body like a chilled hug. Breaking the surface, you swam comfortable laps around the lake. As you lazily backstroked, you noticed Ellie walking down the steps that led to the dock.

Her auburn hair was spiked all across her head—she must’ve slept well. You chuckled, swimming up the edge of the dock. Placing your hands against it, to pull yourself up a little. Bare shoulders glistening from the sunlight reflecting off your wet skin. “You have a bad case of bedhead, my friend.”

“What?” She immediately became self-conscious, running her hands through her hair. Shaking her head, she adjusted her features, trying to uphold her naturally irritated persona; scrunching her eyebrows and clenching her jaw. “You let me sleep too late; it’s ten. We should start packing up.” Her eyes avoided you, instead, focusing on the plants surrounding the lake. Or your pruned fingers holding onto the dock.

Looking up at her with squinted eyes, you dramatically sniffed. “Why don’t you hop in? You smell like shit.” You ignored her small jabs of blame, coating your lips with a smile. Perhaps, you’ve been spending too much time with her, but her little irritations were beginning to amuse you more than bother you. Or, from the angle that you were peering up at her, she looked really… Pretty. Bedhead and all.

“Excuse me?” She questioned, raising her eyebrows, finally meeting your eyes.

“I’m serious. Let’s resume the trip smelling better than a sewer.” You began to paddle backwards, almost forgetting about your own nakedness. “Take off your clothes… I‘ll give you privacy. Unless you’re too… Chicken.”

She hesitated, watching you swim backwards. Catching an accidental glimpse of your breasts as you turned around. It was true that she didn’t smell the greatest. Before she could formulate her thoughts properly, Ellie spoke. “Chicken? Really, y/n?” She sighed, punching the bridge of her nose. “Fine. But not for long— I wanna make it to Idaho within the next two days…”

Ellie shed her clothes, dropping them close to yours. She jumped into the water, keeping her head from going under, loudly reacting to the coldness of the lake. “Shit!” She exclaimed, treading water.

You turned around, chuckling, noticing her hair still disheveled. “You’ll feel better if you dunk yourself under water.”

“Hell, no! It’s too cold.”

“This doesn’t have to be another I-told-you-so moment…”

She rolled her eyes, clenching her nostrils with her fingers, lowering herself under water. Allowing the cold, earthy, lake water to encapsulate her. The first few seconds were chilling, but her body began to adapt. It became rather comforting—easing her sore muscles and healing wounds.

The lake did the same for you, which was why you were still inside of it. Time stopped at the pier; at least it felt like it did. Existing felt normal, for once. There weren’t any violent rogue people, or hungry infected. Just you and Ellie bathing in a lake.

Ellie broke the surface, running her hands over her saturated strands. Her pale skin was flushed, from what you could only assume, was the briskness in the air and the chillness of water. However, that may not have completely been the case. “Feel better?” You ask, waving your arms under the water to keep yourself afloat.

The corners of her lips curled, subtly. You had to squint to really notice her amusement. She rolled her eyes in a way to avert her gaze. “Yeah, a little.” Ellie finally peered at you, pointing a dripping finger. “Don’t say it.”

“Say what?” A grin plastered on your lips. “I told you so?”

“Do you realize how annoying you are, or just me?”

You pursed your lips, feigning thought. “Just you, I think.”

Honestly, you’re proud of yourself. A lot of the relationship blossoming between your traveling partner and yourself had been developing under the pressure of your attitudes and circumstances. The fact that you could get her to crack a smile, even if it was faint, felt good. It was either the dock’s magic, or your own.

A beat passed while the two of you circled each other. Barely looking at the exposed skin above the water, trying to be distracted by the world around you.

Surprisingly, Ellie was the first to speak—or the first to question you. She rarely every asked you anything. “That letter you carry with you…” The woman awkwardly began. “I saw it on the counter— who wrote it?”

Her voice grabbed your attention immediately at the mention of the note. You held onto it like a totem, a piece of memorabilia from your past. Hesitating, you moved your eyes from left to right in thought. “I know that it came from Santa Barbara. From that house…”

“It’s from an old friend.” You started, lips parting slowly as you spoke. Mouth going dry at the question she asked. You’ve yet to physically get the chance to talk about Honey. From the days aboard the boat, you’ve been trying to forget what you saw. Maybe, you could convince yourself that she was off living the life she wanted—instead of spending her last days suffering under the hammer of infection. “Some girl I met at that God-forsaken resort…” You attempted to casually respond.

“She got infected?”

“Yeah…” You nodded with avoidance, shutting your eyes and moving your head with a cadence of I-don’t-wanna-talk-about-it.

Ellie pursed her lips, nodding. “Why’d you write on the letter? I don’t know… It looks like it means a lot to you— I don’t understand why you would write on it?” She spoke, thoughtfully, as if she didn’t want to say the wrong thing. That was certainly the first time.

You shrug, wanting to hide somewhere, even though there was nowhere to do so. “I just want to forget about it… I guess.”

“If you cared about her, why would you wanna forget about it?”

The muscles in your forehead twitched, bunching your eyebrows together. Your face burned, lips scowling. Ellie’s voice evolved from a soft curiosity, to a judgmental version of it. You sensed the difference the moment it fell from her lips. The intention of her words didn’t matter—it was what she said that bothered you. Did she think you were cruel for wanting to forget about seeing her in that state?

“If I cared about her?” You started, evenly, but with warning. “I did care about her— I do care about her! If I choose not to remember her as a fucking corpse, that makes me a bad person?” Your voice raised, for the first time in awhile, rasping.

Ellie sighed, shaking her head with pleading eyes. “I didn’t say that.”

You scoff, swimming toward the dock. “Well, I’m sure that’s what you meant, right?” Pulling yourself out of the water, you don’t think twice about the exposing of your naked body. Cold air pricking at your wet skin. “I’m the asshole for wanting to remember Honey alive rather than dead…” You wrapped the towel you brought with you around your body, balling your clothes into your arms.

Lamely, Ellie called for you from her place in the water as you left her behind. Before you covered up, she eyed the scars and bruises on your body—maps of what your vessel has been through. Perhaps, she should have entered the conversation with more caution.

Watching you stalk back into the cabin, wiping at your eyes felt like a punishment. A worse punishment than the fact that she didn’t have a towel to dry off with.

“Nice work, Ellie.”

#🪅#millersfinest #ellie tlou #ellie williams imagine #lesbian #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #mini series

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moody-alcoholic · 8 months ago

Text

These Violent Delights

Chapter 5 - Once Upon A Playground Rainy

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe. 6.6k words. Omega's trying to be helpful for better and for worse.

CW: a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes (claiming, heats), Gaslighting, medical procedures, bullying, angst.

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

You make it to the lab just after 6. The barracks were quiet when you left but the base is busy with activity. You feel like you’re breaking some kind of rule sneaking around. You don’t need to sneak, Dr. Piper knows about this. The lab is quiet too, there is only Dr. Miller sat in his usual spot at the desk. He has goggles on as he looks at something in a jar.

“Hey, glad you remembered, I was worried you weren't going to show.” He smiles at you looking up from whatever he’s working on.

“I want to help them, I won't forget,” you say walking over to him. He takes his goggles off and pushes back from the table. You stop at the bottom of the steps.

“Come on, we need to go to the medical room,” he says walking over to you. You both make your way up to the room which has a keycode on it now. He knows the code, Dr. Piper must trust him. You automatically sit up on the exam bed when you go in.

“Is Dr. Piper coming?” you ask as you watch him clean his hands.

“I told her she could sit this one out, she needs all the rest she can get.” He smiles at you as he drys his hands off. Well that’s true. She’s always working so late you barely get to see her.

“So what are we doing?” you ask. His scent is strong in the air now and you try not to let it go to your head.

“I need to take some blood, and I have something for you to take,” he says, taking things out of the cupboard.

“What is it?” you ask watching him organize everything.

“The drug? The same you had last time,” he says looking at you confused.

“Last time?” you ask, you remember him giving you 2 injections.

“Yeah, do you not remember?” he says, coming over to you with the tray of supplies. You try to think back, but you can’t remember. You remember the conversion about when he left the bunker.

“Do you normally have trouble remembering things?” he asks. You shake your head, why can’t you remember ?

“Good, we wouldn’t want to give Dr. Montgomery more to worry about, would we.”

“No,” you say, rolling your sleeve up so he can take some blood. When he’s done he comes back over with a syringe. You’re too scared to ask what it is now. You should remember, you’re sure he told you.

“It’s for the hormone blocker right?” you ask, pulling the rest of your sleeve up.

“There you go, you’re not losing the plot.” He smiles, you smile back. It’s for Simon, it’s the hormone blocker of course.

“So are you ready for your heat?” he asks as he finishes up.

“I guess so, I still have a few weeks. Do you think the blocker will be ready by then?” you ask, pulling your sleeve down.

“I hope so. I’m working as hard as I can. You doing this is a big help,” he says, throwing everything in the trash. You hop off the bed.

“Wait, you should lay down for a bit, 15 minutes. Wouldn’t want you passing out on the way back to the barracks would we?” You shake your head getting back up on the bed. He comes round and raises the back for you so you can lean back a bit.

“Why would I pass out? I didn’t last time,” you say.

“No but it’s better to be safe than sorry. I wouldn't want you getting hurt,” he says, you sigh, relaxing back. It’s the first time you’ve been up this early in days and with the sleepless nights, it’s not long before you’re starting to doze off. The room is warm and the exam table is surprisingly comfy.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you’re woken by the room door opening.

“How are you feeling?” Dr. Miller asks. You blink away the sleep in your eyes. You move off the bed.

“Fine, tired.” He smiles and you follow him out of the room.

“Take it easy, okay, we don’t need to give Dr. Montgomery or Captain Price anything to worry about, okay?” You nod blindly at him as you leave. You’re so tired, you want to get back into bed. The walk back over to the barracks is nice. The morning sun lights up the dew-covered grass, and there’s a low fog making the forest look like something out of a picture book. You let the smell of pine fill your nose before you walk back into the barracks.

“Hey, where have you been so early?” Johnny asks from the table, you look up at the clock it’s already almost 7. You didn’t think anyone would be up this early. Shit , you don’t know what to say.

“Dr. Piper. I needed to see her about something,” you lie. You take another step towards the kitchen. There’s no way he can tell you’re lying. You blow out the nerves.

Dr. Piper comes into the kitchen. You freeze watching as Johnny looks at her then back at you, confused. She goes over to the kettle while you’re just standing there trying to decide what to do.

“Dr. Piper, I need to talk to you,” you say quickly, before Johnny can get a word in. She turns with a mug in her hand, and she frowns at you.

“Okay.” She puts the mug down and starts to head back to her room. You quickly follow after her.

“I thought you were at the lab,” you say loud enough for Johnny to hear.

“You were at the lab? Is everything okay?” she asks as you walk into her room. She closes the door behind you.

“Yeah, just the sleeping pills. I think they’re a good idea,” you say.

“Okay, I’ll get that sorted,” she says. You sigh. “Are you sure there isn’t anything else?”

“No, I’m just tired,” you say. You want to get out of the room now.

“We still need to talk with Captain Price about your heat.” You feel yourself blushing, you’re embarrassed all of a sudden.

“We kissed,” you blurt out. “Me and John.”

Dr. Piper looks a little shocked.

“How do you feel about that?” she asks.

“I don’t know, it was nice, I trust him.” You look at her as she takes a step towards you.

“I mean we’re going to have sex in a few weeks, I feel like a kiss is nothing really.”

“That’s true but heats are very different from something romantic like a kiss,” she says. Romantic?

“I like John,” you say.

“That’s good, and he’s a good alpha. It’s okay to feel all these new emotions. This heat will be very different from the past ones. It’s good that we’re talking, and you know my door is always open,” she says, resting her hand on your shoulder.

You nod, smiling at her. She’s right, this time it will be different. You’re going to be getting claimed for one, not to mention you’ll actually be with someone you trust. It’s different now that you’re in a pack. A device beeps on Dr. Piper's waist. She drops her hand looking at it.

“Crap, I have to go. I’ll sort out the meeting with John okay?” she says as you walk out the room. You nod at her and she smiles, rushing down the corridor. Johnny steps round the corner with a bowl in his hand and a spoon in his mouth. He gives you a look. You’re not quite sure what it means, so you go into your room, closing the door behind you. You don’t need anyone to worry. You just need to be a good omega.

A week goes by and Dr. Piper still hasn’t set up the meeting. She’s been busy: new scientists show up—normal people, not people who worked for the professor. They don’t look at you as weird as the regular soldiers. They look at you more in awe, like you’re something to be studied.

Your visits with Dr. Miller have been going well. He keeps you up to date on the progress, and how it’s going. He thinks he's perfected the hormone blocker but the true test will come during your heat. You’ve been tired, the early mornings mixed with the restless nights have been hitting you hard.

You haven’t seen much of John or Simon, but Johnny and Kyle have been around and you’ve been eating lunch or dinner with them which is nice. Not so many people stare and talk when you’re with them. You really want to spend some time with John and maybe go for a walk again.

It surprises you when John asks if you could help with a training exercise. You don’t mind, in fact you were more than happy to help. You’ve not really seen them in action apart from when they rescued you. You weren't really paying attention to what was going on then, just hoping you made the right choice to trust them.

“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen,” John says, getting everyone’s attention. You’re standing next to him and everyone else is lined up with their backs to what looks like an empty abandoned building. Everyone is dressed head to toe in gear with massive weapons swung over their shoulders. The sight of them makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck.

“So now that we have these heightened senses, we need to train them. Dr. Montgomery suggested this. Since omegas give off the strongest scent, she’s going to hide somewhere in the building and it’ll be your job to find her and bring her out without using your eyes.” John picks up a bag by his feet throwing strips of black cloth to them all.

“We’re playing hide and seek with blindfolds?” Johnny asks as he catches one.

“Yes, and the quicker you find her the less drills we have to do. You’ve all felt the heightened sensations, your sight, hearing, smell. That’s a benefit of the formula. It’s the main reason Professor Hale was trying to perfect it, so that the US could have an army of ‘super soldiers,’” John explains.

“So we’re super soldiers now?” Johnny asks, tying the black strip round his forehead.

“The only thing super about you is how much you can run that mouth of yours MacTavish,” Simon says. You smile as you watch him secure his blindfold on his forehead.

John turns to you, placing his hand on your shoulder. “Okay, so you’re going to hide anywhere you want inside the building. Make it as hard as you want, just don’t get yourself hurt.” You nod.

“What about you, are you going to be looking for me too?” He shakes his head

“Actually alphas are the worst at detecting scent so maybe you would need more training,” you say looking at John. You feel yourself blushing as you hear Johnny chuckle.

“Someone needs to watch to make sure you’re not cheating.” Kyle nudges Johnny, who starts to protest and you see John shake his head.

“Go on then, go hide. We'll give you a few minutes,” John says to you, nodding towards the building. You smile at him and walk past them all into the entrance of the building. There's rubble everywhere and before you’ve really even made it in you're tripping over stones. You go upstairs walking down one of the empty halls looking in each room seeing if there’s anything you could hide behind or inside of. John did say make it hard, but you’re not sure what that means for 3 trained soldiers.

You can hear them talking outside. You know for sure they can hear you moving around no matter how hard you try to avoid making noise. You come to the end of the long building. There is another staircase down but you want to stay upstairs. You duck into one of the rooms that has boards on the top half of the door. There’s a desk in the room. Better than nothing.

You sit down. This is fun, and you’re helping them. You hear John tell them they can go and you feel nervous all of a sudden. Your adrenaline spikes at the thought of you being hunted. You keep still, but you project your scent. You want to help them a little bit. You can hear them downstairs, talking and moving around.

“So we’re like sniffer dogs?” Johnny asks. You hear Simon sigh. They’re under you now, you think. Maybe they’re confused. You stop projecting your scent.

“What dog would you be if you could be a dog?” Johnny asks. The thought of Johnny as a dog makes you giggle.

“Shush!” They stop. You slap your hand over your mouth realizing what you’ve done. You can’t help but smile though. You hear them moving a little quicker now. It sounds like they’re heading to the staircase at the end of the hall. It takes them a while to get up the steps. You contemplate moving but decide to stay. If you so much as move the stones around you, they’ll be able to hear it.

When you can see their shadows in the hallway you hold your breath. You’re not sure why. Even an alpha would be able to smell you this close. They’re quiet on their feet, sure of their movements even with the blindfolds. You see Simon first. You can only see the bottom half of his body as he turns to face the room, his hands feeling the boards.

“Duck into this room on the right,” Simon says. Shit, it’s over, they’ve found you. Simon walks over to you and you stand up putting your arm out to stop him before he walks into you. He pulls the blindfold off and you smile at him.

“Found her,” Simon says as Johnny and Kyle stumble in pulling their blindfolds up. You walk out with them and Johnny wraps his arm around your shoulders. You feel like if you'd let him he would have carried you out of the building like some trophy they’ve just won. When you get back out John seems happy, nodding and smiling before asking everyone to do it again. You try to pick a harder spot but the place is pretty barren. You start just trying to avoid them, moving from room to room when they get close to you.

One of the runs you accidentally bump into Kyle when they split up. They’re too good at this, always finding you within at least 10 minutes which makes John happy. You’re not sure how long you’ve been doing this for but it must be midday at least. The sun is high in the sky and it's unusually warm. Johnny has his arm around you again as you walk out the building. You look up at the sky when you leave, you're bringing your hand up to block the sun when everything goes fuzzy. You’re overcome with dizziness and then everything goes black.

“Hey, can you hear us lass?” That’s Johnny’s voice. You open your eyes. The sun is bright in the sky. Johnny is leaning over you, his hands shaking your shoulders. You feel sick and lightheaded. You should have eaten something this morning. You hear more voices around you as you start to sit up, what happened? The last thing you remember was stepping out of the building.

“Don’t move, let's wait for the doctor to come.” Johnny pushes your shoulder back down. Your fingers are tingling as your senses start to come back. All you can smell is beta in the air, it’s calming. You look around seeing John come over to you. His alpha is strong, overwhelming the beta in the air. Now you really don’t want to be laid on the floor.

“I’m fine,” you say, trying to sit up again. You don’t want to be a bother. You remember what Dr. Miller told you. Dr. Piper and John are always so busy. They don’t have time for you to be forgetting to eat.

“You’re not fine, stay there.” John’s voice is commanding. It makes hairs stand up on the back of your neck. He’s worried. Johnny lets you sit up supporting your shoulders. You watch as Simon walks back over to John and you can see Kyle walking over with Dr. Piper. You don’t need her—you’re fine, you just pushed yourself too much and skipped breakfast. Dr. Piper kneels down putting a bag on the floor next to you.

“I’m fine,” you repeat. She sighs, opening the bag and taking out the blood pressure cuff. You stare at her. You’ve been through this a million times before.

“How do you feel? You’re not allowed to say fine,” she asks as she swabs your forehead with a thermometer.

“Lightheaded,” you admit, “but it’s going away.”

“Blood pressure is low. When was the last time you ate?” she asks. You look up at John.

“I had breakfast,” you lie.

“Yeah? We’re going to check that theory,” she says, reaching out for your hand. You sigh, letting her prick your finger. She puts it in the machine as you wait for the reading.

“Low blood pressure, oh look at that! Low blood sugar,” she says, standing up and putting everything away. You look up at John. His arms are crossed, and you can’t tell if he looks angry or worried. You’ve been a bad omega. You should have eaten breakfast.

“You know you can’t be doing this so close to your heat. You need to eat 3 meals a day,” she says, helping you up to your feet. You nod, keeping your eyes on John. He’s disappointed at least.

“Simon’s going to take you back to the barracks,” John says. You look over at Simon. You can never tell what he’s thinking, especially with the mask. You don’t want to go with Simon, but you don’t want to upset John more than you already have. You nod following him as he walks away. You feel sick. You shouldn’t have been projecting your scent so much. If you had given them a challenge then you wouldn’t be as tired. You walk in silence back to the barracks. You feel like a kid that’s done something wrong. When you get through the door he pulls out one of the chairs from the table.

“Sit,” he says, going into the kitchen. You watch as Simon waits for the kettle to boil. You’re nervous, and you don’t know why.

“Milk and sugar?” he asks, looking over at you. You nod. It feels like the most he’s ever spoken to you. You watch as he makes tea. You think this is the most you’ve ever seen him do, too. He comes over placing a mug down. You smile, pulling it into your hands, warming them as he sits next to you. You swallow the nerves away. His alpha is strong in the air for a second before it completely evaporates. You’re not sure what to say to him. You don’t know if he will start the conversation or not.

“Do you like the book?” he asks, nodding at the copy of Alice in Wonderland next to you.

“Dr. Piper gave it to me. I used to read a lot in the bunker,” you say. “Have you read it? It’s about this girl called Alice, she falls down a rabbit hole. I like the cat. I like all the animals actually.” You look up at him.

“I’ve read it before. Drink your tea,” he says. You look down at the cup. You didn’t really think he was the type of person to read. You sip the tea, it’s almost too sweet for you but you don’t want to complain.

“What kind of books did you have in the bunker?” he asks.

“Just story books. Have you read Charlotte's Web?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I know there’s a film though.”

You almost spit your tea out.

“There’s a film?”

“Yeah. There’s an Alice in Wonderland film too,” he says. You smile.

“Do you think we could watch them?” you ask, looking over at the TV.

“Yeah, maybe,” he says. You take another sip of the tea.

“Do you have a family back in the UK?” Maybe now is better than ever to get some information out of him. Get to know him better.

“Yeah.”

“Do you miss them?” you ask. You’re trying to read his eyes at least, since he does such a good job at protecting his scent. He’s almost as good as a trained beta. He’s one of those people who’s just a natural at it.

“Every day.” There’s sadness in the air now. He turns away from you, upset. You sip your tea again.

“How old were you when Professor Hale took you away?” You’re surprised by the question.

“I don’t know, 13, I think. My memories before that time, they’re not really there.” You don’t know how to word it. All you could remember from before was your mother and now you’ve learned that was just a memory planted in your head.

“What do you remember?” he asks, looking back at you.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to believe anymore.” You shrug.

“It must have been hard, being alone.”

“I’m used to it. I was never really alone. Dr. Piper was always around, or the Professor,” you say, watching his eyes, trying to see if there’s any change. You take in a deep breath but all you can smell is the tea.

“Do you have any siblings?” you ask. There’s the smell of sadness again. It’s overwhelming. You feel like you can see a change in his eyes, or maybe you’re looking too hard.

“Why do you care?” he asks, his voice a little harsher than he meant it to be.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to get to know you.” You sigh looking into your tea. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he doesn’t want to get to know you.

“Did you ever go to school?” he asks. You look up at him. He seems more relaxed now. You try to think back, you don’t remember much about school or anything before the bunker.

“All I remember is what I learned from the bunker. Dr. Piper would teach me things. I don’t remember ever going to school.” You almost laugh at the question. “What about you? Did you go to school?”

“Yeah. Whenever it rains I think of school,” he says.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“I like the rain.” You smile, sipping the tea. You look out the window. It’s bright out. For once, the skies are clear. You hear his chair scraping as he gets up. You see him disappear around the corner down the hallway, and you hear a door open. He comes back around to the table placing a book down.

“Catch-22?”

“It might not be your style, but if you’re bored of Alice in Wonderland, it might be a good change.”

“What is it about?”

“The war. Like I said, you might not like it.” He shrugs as he sits back down.

“Thank you. I appreciate it. Thank you.” You smile at him. You wish you could see what he was thinking.

“Could get you more if you wanted?”

“Yeah, that would be nice. You don’t have to, though, I know you’re busy. You and John have other things to worry about.”

“Price likes you, I'm sure he’d sort something out,” he says.

“Do you like me?” you ask. He doesn’t say anything, and his eyes don't tell you what he’s thinking. You can’t help but feel like he doesn’t want to answer.

The door to the building opens and you turn to see John walk in. You don’t know why that makes you blush.

“Soap and Gaz are in the pit. Go.” Simon gets up. Your eyes follow him as leaves. John comes to sit next to you.

“So why have you been skipping meals?” he asks. You look down at your empty mug.

“I don’t know, I guess I haven’t been paying attention. Sorry.”

“You need to take better care of yourself.” He sighs. You look up at him nodding.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, but from now on someone will be coming with you for meals. Lunch and dinner,” he says. You sigh, slouching down in the chair. It’s okay. You don’t really mind. You’ve missed having someone around for lunch. You nod at him.

“I don’t think Simon likes me,” you say, gripping the book.

“Simon’s a tough nut to crack. Don’t take it personally.” You nod. You wish he would like you.

“You would let us know if anything is wrong right? If you don’t want to talk to any of us, you can always talk to Dr. Montgomery,” he says.

“I know I'm sorry, I’ll do better,” you say. He smiles.

“Come on, let's get an early lunch then you can take a nap. You probably need it.” He gets up and you smile following after him.

Another week goes by. There’s more training with everyone, the same as before with them having to find you blindfolded. They’re getting better and you don’t even need to project your scent any more. John says maybe he’ll look at going somewhere outside the base for drills. Better practice, as you can get more distance from them. Regardless, it sounds like fun. You’re sitting in the lab. It's the weekend so most of the scientists go home. It’s just Dr. Miller and Dr. Piper. Although Dr. Piper is out, it's just you.

“How have you been feeling this week? No more incidents?” he asks. You shake your head.

“How many of these are left?” you ask as you roll your sleeve up.

“A few more, then we can move on to stage 2,” he says. You frown, for some reason it hurts this time.

“Stage 2?”

“You haven’t been listening have you?” he says frowning as you pull your sleeve back down.

“Sorry, I know I’ve been tired lately, thanks to the early mornings. It’s hard to sleep at night.” You jump off the stool, looking towards Dr. Piper's office. You wish you could take the sleeping pills, but they make you feel sick.

“You should start going to bed earlier. Try herbal tea.” You nod at him. Maybe that’s a good idea.

“Stage 2, that will come when you’re in heat. When do you think that will be?” he asks. You count in your head.

“Next week, maybe the week after. It doesn’t really work on a timer,” you say.

“You worried about John’s rut? Alphas can get aggressive,” he says. You feel yourself blushing.

“No, I trust John,” you say, pulling your jacket on. It’s not like you can do anything.

“Well, if you need anything you know where to find me,” he says, turning back to his work. You nod walking out of the lab back to the barracks. It looks like it might rain. You like the rain, the idea of curling up in your nest with a book while you listen to the rain sounds like the best idea right now. When you make it to the barracks you bump into Johnny.

“Lunch?” he asks. You nod, looking at the time. It’s almost 1 o’clock. His arm wraps around your shoulders.

“What have you been doing today?” he asks.

“Nothing really,” you say. There hasn’t been any training today, you’ve been stuck inside all day.

“I have a story to tell you about Gaz slapping a drill sergeant's ass,” he says. You chuckle. “See he thought it was Si’s ass, until the guy turned around.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t you who did that?” You laugh as you walk into the mess hall.

“Why, what did you hear?” You smile, picking up a tray.

“Sounds like something you’d do, not Kyle.”

“You don’t know what I'm capable of.” He nudges you. You fill your plate up with food and two puddings, it’s chocolate again. You both make your way over to an empty table. There’s a few people around but not as many as usual. You keep making small talk with Johnny. If there is something Johnny is always good at, it’s filling dead air. You never feel alone when he’s around. Halfway through eating a new group of soldiers comes through and for some reason they make you nervous, taking seats at a table behind Johnny.

“Is that her?”

You feel sick. The pit in your stomach isn’t going away. You can hear them laughing, you know Johnny can hear them too he sits up in his seat.

“Is this why you’ve been skipping meals?” He asks, you shake your head pushing the food around your plate. You don’t want to eat anymore, not even the pudding. You feel embarrassed. You wish you could just curl up in a ball and vanish.

“Would you?”

“What risk discharge for her?”

“No, she needs bigger tits.”

“Bigger ass too.”

Laughter follows. You really try to ignore it, digging your nails into your palm. It's almost like you can only hear that table now, the group of 5. What if you’re not good enough? What if John thinks these things? If there was another omega would he pick her? You don’t remember standing up or running past them, you just feel the cool outside air hit your face.

You don’t wait for Johnny, just rush over to the barracks. Your head is pounding as you burst through the door rushing straight over to John’s office. You’re ignoring everything around you, tears streaming down your face as you knock on his door. You barely even hear him say come in before you open the door. John looks over his desk at you, as soon as he sees you he gets out his chair.

“What's wrong? Where’s Johnny?” he asks, putting his hands on your shoulders trying to look you in your eyes. You can't talk, you're too worked up, you're just sobbing in front of him. This isn’t helping, he probably thinks you're being so stupid. You hear people talking behind you as John squeezes your shoulders. His alpha is strong in the air. You're making him upset. You’re being a bad omega.

“What happened?” John asks someone behind you.

“Some rookies in the mess saying some not nice things.” It’s Johnny. John sighs, pulling you onto his chest wrapping his arms around you.

“Take Gaz, get me names,” he says. You don't hear Johnny reply but you hear the door close.

“Come sit,” he says, guiding you over to the sofa. You sit down as he reaches over to his desk pulling out some tissues.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffle taking the tissue.

“No need to be sorry. What did they say?” he asks, his scent still strong in the air. You turn to look at him trying to compose yourself. Don’t be a problem.

“Nothing, just stupid stuff,” you say, wiping your nose.

“Come on, let's go for a walk,” he says, offering his hand. You nod, brushing the tears away and taking his hand. He walks you back out the base to the dirt path just like last time. As soon as the base is outside of earshot you let out a long breath and breathe in the forest air. It smells of pine and damp wood. Now that you know there’s a lake here your ears are hypertuned to pick up the sounds of the lapping water. John's hand comes to the small of your back.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around much,” he says.

“It’s okay, I know you’re busy,” you reply.

“You’ve been doing a great job helping out with all the training,” he says. You smile.

“It’s been fun.” You’re not sure what to say. You don’t want to think about training right now, you don’t want to think about the work with Dr. Miller. You like spending time alone with John. You lean against him, his scent filling your nose as you walk around to the lake. You smile, closing your eyes letting the breeze wash over you. You’ve calmed down now, the whole thing just felt like you’ve blown it out of proportion. John moves behind you wrapping his arms around you, his hands resting on your hips. Pulling you up against him, you can feel his breathing as you lean back. His scent is calming, it complements the smells of nature.

“Do you want to talk?” he asks after a few minutes. You let out a breath. Your eyes are still stinging from the crying.

“If there was another omega, a better omega, would you rather be with her than me?” you ask him.

“What? No, why would you even think that?”

“I don’t know. I’m not exactly the perfect omega,” you say, digging your shoe in the dirt.

He turns you in his arms so you’re face to face. “All I want is for you to be safe and happy. To do that we need to communicate,” he says. His eyes are kind. You don’t want to lie to him, but you want to upset him even less. You breathe in his scent letting it calm you.

“I am happy,” you say. One of his hands comes to your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He hums, looking around your face. You smile up at him. He leans down and kisses you. You close your eyes, sinking into the kiss, letting his tongue press against yours. You don’t know if you’re getting any better at kissing or not, but he doesn’t complain. His hands running down your body pulling you closer to him. He pulls away, one of his hands brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’re so beautiful, my beautiful perfect omega.” His thumb brushes your cheek. You smile at the praise, it makes you feel all warm inside. It’s high praise from your alpha, you can tell he means it. It makes you project your scent more for him. You can’t help it, the sweet smell of strawberries cutting through the smells of nature. He smiles back at you as his nostrils flare, breathing you in.

“Can I ask you something?” you ask, nerves welling up inside you, your mouth feeling suddenly dry. He nods.

“I want to have sex with you before my heat.” You feel yourself blushing. He smiles at you, kissing your forehead.

"Are you sure?” he asks. You look up in his eyes, his beautiful kind eyes. You nod.

“Okay then, we can figure something out.” You press your face into his chest wrapping your arms around him.

“Are you worried about your heat?” he asks. You pull your head out his chest so you can look at him.

“I’m not worried. I know this time will be different, but I trust you.” You smile at him. You’ve never had someone you trust with you during your heats. You know people have been involved, and you’re lucky you remember so little. It’s not that you don’t remember it. It’s suppressed memories, or at least that’s what Dr. Piper calls them. It’s the nightmares that get you the most, reminding you were just a plaything for the Professor.

“Are you nervous?” you ask.

“No,” he says. It’s what you needed to hear. You’re not worried, he’s not worried. He’s your alpha and he’ll take care of you. You step up on your toes and kiss him. His arms pull you closer to him. There’s a cold breeze that makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. You can feel the first drops of rain. You don’t care, you want to stay in this forest forever with John.

“C’mon we should get back before it rains,” he says, breaking away from the kiss.

“I like the rain,” you say, keeping your arms wrapped around him. He chuckles, prying your arms off him. You move to the side of him gripping his waist.

“John, what made you agree to claim me?” you ask as you make it back to the dirt road.

“There's a connection I can’t explain. I know you and Dr. Montgomery say it's just biology but I think there's something more.”

“Really?”

“If it was just chemicals then it would be more like a need, something my body is missing. It doesn’t explain other feelings like, love or—”

“Love?” You stop your fingers gripping his waist. You look up at him, confused. Love?

“Love, patience, caring.” He turns to look at you, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“How do you know it’s love and not just chemicals?” you ask. You don’t know what love feels like or what it smells like. You try to smell the air but you just smell nature, pine, damp wood and hints of wild herbs in the air. You can smell John’s scent too but nothing new. You don’t even know if you can feel love.

“Love is something you feel, it’s this feeling of wanting to care for someone, maybe more than you want to care for yourself. I think it’s more than just chemicals.” He pulls you closer to him and you keep walking.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt that before,” you admit. You think about Dr. Piper, and the Professor. The only two people who have been constants in your life, always there for good and for bad. Love for you is just something you’ve read about in books. People do stupid things for the people they love. You look up at John, his arm wrapped around your waist. He’s a good alpha, you want to believe it's more than just chemicals, more than just the biological need to find and mate with an omega.

You wish you knew what love feels like so you would know too, if it was more than chemicals. You walk back in silence. You like spending time with John, you like feeling his hands on you, his touch, his kisses. Maybe it is love. You shake the thought away as you walk up to the barracks. When you walk into the building you see Kate, you almost don’t recognise her with her back turned but as soon as the door opens she’s looking at you both.

“Where have you been!” she snaps. She doesn’t sound angry, just worried.

“Kate? I thought you were supposed to be in Langley?” he says, his arm dropping from your back. She looks over at you then at John. You see Kyle and Johnny stood behind her, they look worried too. Their scent is thick in the air and it's making you nervous.

“It’s Shepard, he’s on his way here. He knows about the omega and he wants to take her.” She says. You’re holding your breath.

“What? Take her where?” John asks.

“Back to Professor Hale.”

Next Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui My rock rememberwren <3

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chrystal-ink · 2 months ago

Text

Shadow x GN reader

All cramped up

Shadow finds the one thing he can’t fix for you

Warnings: reader is on period, severe menstrual cramps, mentions of nausea, hurt/comfort

Note: so a fun (not really) fact about me is I suffer from debilitating menstrual cramps to the point where I can (very rarely) lose my ability to stand so this is based off of that

“I’m sorry honey I can’t go out tonight I’m not feeling well”

As you sent the text you felt a wave of guilt and frustration wash over you. Once again your body had decided to ruin plans and upend your life and for what?

The scraping in your lower abdomen continued as you waited for the ibuprofen to kick in you waited a half an hour, then an hour still nothing.

You clutched the heating pad close hoping it could soothe the cramp that you so desperately needed relief from. not caring weather or not it was starting to burn, so far it was the only kind of relief you could feel.

Just then you heard a knock at the door. You were too tired to move so you figured you could ignore it. let whoever was on the other side think you weren’t home , but then they knocked again.

Your phone chimed a text from Shadow appearing on the screen.

“Let me in I’m here to take care of you”

You heaved a sigh you should have known that he would be coming, he wasn’t going to let you suffer alone, even if he didn’t quite know that you weren’t suffering from any illness rather a particularly cruel joke from Mother Nature.

steeling yourself you got up from your couch making your way over to the door each step more taxing than the last. eventually you made it to your door.

❤️

Shadow stood patiently at your door anxiety flooding through his system, he hated when you got sick. he always made sure to do everything in his power in order to get you healthy again and today was no different, or so he thought.

You opened the door greeting him with a soft "Hey".

much to his surprise you looked just fine, no apparent signs of any fever, no runny nose or sore throat. aside from looking a bit tired you seemed just fine.

"Hey, what's going on?"

"Yah, I just don't feel like I can go out tonight."

"Are you sick? when was the last time you took any medicine?"

"Well I took some ibuprofen about an hour ago, but I'm not exactly sick."

"what do you mean?"

"Well I- it's sorta like." you seemed hesitant to answer like you were embarrassed or ashamed of what the problem was. he waited for you to continue.

but before you could give any proper answer you collapsed to the ground.

❤️

the sharp pain took your breath away like you had just been impaled the pain from your uterus now radiating through your spine forcing you to double over in pain. a bout of nausea twisted your stomach as you began to shake.

Gentle hands caught you as he called out your name panic laced throughout his voice. "Are you alright? what's going on? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?"

"No, it's alright." you stated trying to clam his nerves. "trust me the hospital won't do anything."

"Why not? You're clearly suffering with something."

"Yes and that thing is having a uterus. I'm on my period." You explained through groans. "and I just so happen to suffer with really bad cramps. the most a doctor will do is send me home with some pain killers, which I already have, and tell me to do the same things I've been doing since this whole stupid thing started."

Shadow stared at you not really sure on how to proceed.

You sighed "Can we please move over to the couch I really don't want to have this conversation on the floor."

"Of course, can you stand?"

you began to rise carefully halfway up you felt a twinge of pain letting out a cry as you retreated to your previous position.

"Here let me help you." He scooped you up in his arms carrying you over to the couch.

as he carried you over you couldn't help but feel guilty. not only did you ruin his night but you caused him serious worry over you and now you were making him take care of you.

as Shadow gingerly placed you on the sofa all the frustration and guilt bubbled to the surface, tears began streaming down your face soft sobs escaping your mouth.

"I hate this" you started. "people have been doing this every day for thousands of years. going to work, living their lives, and I can't even stand up. I’m so sorry I really didn’t want to ruin your night, you already do so much for me and now this. I feel so pathetic.” Another wave of pain shot through you making you wince “I just want it to stop”

Shadow just stared at you for a moment unsure of what to do. He’s never seen you like this and it scared him. He’s seen you fight off plenty of foes, seen you sustain many injuries that you simply walked off. He never expected to see you brought down, and by your own body nonetheless.

Questions formed in his head unsure of how to ask them. Did this happen every time? How come he hasn’t seen this yet? How could he fix this?

The last question rang in his head the loudest. Memories of his past flashed through his mind, his purpose what he was created for. Was this another failure for him? Was there truly nothing he could do for you? The only thing he could do right now was watch you while you succumbed to your pain.

He had to do something but what?

Taking a breath he helped you lay down on the couch. He rested his hand on your shoulder in a gentle voice he said “it’s alright my love, just give me a minute.” He turned on your favorite show hoping it could distract you in his absence.

Exiting your apartment he called the only person he could think of.

“Hey handsome, what’s going on?”

“Rouge, it’s Y/N. I need your help” Shadow explained the situation he confessed he was in over his head and didn’t know how to proceed.

“Oh, the poor thing” Rouge commented “Alright big guy here’s what you do.”

❤️

Shadow had been gone for thirty minutes now. You felt horrible thinking you must have scared him off.

You should have explained your situation earlier before all of this happened. You thought you were getting better, your past few cycles had been manageable. You should have known better than to think the problem would go away on its own.

The next time you saw Shadow what was that going to be like. Did he think you were weak now? Did he pity you? You couldn’t stand the thought of shadow looking down on you.

Before you could spiral Shadow came through the door shopping bags in one hand and take out in the other.

He unloaded the contents of the bags onto the coffee table. Pulling out your favorite snacks and candies one by one. He brought a tub of ice cream to the freezer presumably for later. Coming back with some silverware he handed you the takeout.

“Here, I don’t know if you’ve eaten today so I got your favorite. If you don’t want it I also got some ingredients to make your favorite comfort food as well.” He pulled out a plushie in your favorite color and placed it in your arms.

“What’s this?” You asked the question being more rhetorical than anything.

“I don’t particularly enjoy them but I know you like your plush toys, you don’t already have that one do you?”

“No” you gave him a weak smile as you hugged your new squishy friend “thank you”

Shadow kissed you on the forehead climbing behind you on the couch wrapping you in his arms and pulling you close to him.

“Where does it hurt?”

You guided his hand to your lower abdomen resting on the source “Right there”

Shadow delicately worked his hands on the area giving it a gentle massage, untying some of the knots left behind by your uncaring reproductive system.

“Does this help at all?”

“Actually yes, it does, a little”

“Good” he continued his gentle movements. “ I want you to know that I take care of you because I want to, you’re not a burden to me and I never want you to feel like you are. If you’re in pain let me know I won’t think any less of you for it. You are such a strong and amazing person you don’t have to hide your struggles from me.”

“Okay, I promise I’ll tell you next time”

You felt some of the tension in his body melt as you snuggled further into his arms.

“I heard that new movie you wanted to see is streaming now do you want to watch it?”

You nodded

As the movie began to play you began to feel more at ease some of the pain finally slipping away disappearing into nothingness.

“Shadow”

“Yes?”

“Thank you”

“Of course my love, anytime.”

#shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow the hedgehog #shadow x reader #shadow #x reader #sonic fanfiction #not beta read #cw periods #tw periods #period #menstrual cramps #period cramps #hurt/comfort

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akawifeyy · 3 months ago

Text

a date at seven, i dreamed of heaven | fic (LN4)

description: after dozens of failed attempts, you finally cave in to your best friend's pleads to let her set you up with somebody.

tropes: blind date, love at first sight, cousin's best friend!fem!reader

face claim: none

trigger warnings: suggestive content, swearing

| note: this is an au i've had in my mind for agessss omg

You were so fed up with the toxic culture of online dating apps that you finally gave in to your best friend Isolde's request, letting her set you up with someone. A blind date was not something you would normally do – it was out of your comfort zone and definitely risky. Perhaps it would be worth it, though. You trusted Isolde, that she wouldn't lead you astray. But even the people with the best intentions could be proven wrong.

According to her, he was cute and funny. A good conversationalist, loyal. "A lot to handle at once, but he's like a puppy. He'll grow on you." The words were somewhat comforting, yet the jury was still out on whether it was a good match. You had been thinking about it all week, staring into space and dreaming about meeting him, the perfect man.

Today was the day. For lack of better words, it was showtime. The hour was nigh, proving that your delusions would be upheld or shattered. You stood outside the cafe, tapping your foot impatiently as you scrolled through your Instagram feed. You had tried to find your blind date, but he wasn't following Isolde.

It could have been anyone. The guy in the beige trench coat walking his dog, or the man with dyed blue hair and two piercings standing at the crosswalk.

But no, it wasn't either of them.

A tanned, curly-headed man sauntered up to you, his hazel eyes scanning you like he was making sure you were the right person. "Hey, you're Y/N, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, are you my date?" You grinned, blushing as you took in his appearance. Damn, your friend had done a good job. He was exactly your type.

The man outstretched a hand. "I'm Lando. Nice to meet you."

You took the handshake, heat flooding you at the contact.

After pulling apart, Lando opened the door to the cafe, ushering you in first and trailing behind you.

The cafe itself was cozy, with warm lantern lights hanging from the ceiling, and various flora tangling itself throughout the stucco brick walls. The hostess brought you to a comfortable booth in a quiet part of the restaurant, and Lando let you sit down first before striking up a conversation.

"So..." he started, a smile growing on his lips. "You're friends with Isolde, hm?"

You nodded. "Yeah, we've been friends since year one of uni. How do you know her?"

"We're cousins," he confided. "Sadly."

You cocked your head to the side, trying to determine if he was joking or not. "Why is that a sad thing?"

"Everyone thinks we're siblings, and then when we tell them we're not, they assume our parents cheated." He hummed under his breath. Now that you were thinking about it, Isolde and Lando did look an awful lot like one another. They had the same unruly brown hair, tanned skin, hazel eyes. No wonder people were confused. "That's not really a conversation for the first date, is it, though? I'd like to know more about you."

You shrugged one shoulder. "Has Isolde not told you anything about me? I'm surprised."

Lando tapped his fingers against the table, thinking. "I mean, she told me that you went on dates with lots of guys that didn't work out. And not to fuck this up."

You laughed. "Sounds like Isolde."

"Well, want to enlighten me, Y/N?" Lando asked eagerly.

You looked down at your nails, which were painted a soft blue color. Isolde was training to be an esthetician, so she practiced on you frequently, something you weren't complaining about. "I mean, I love to read and write."

"What kind? Poetry? Epics?" he pushed, digging for more information. "I'm sure you're cool, now prove it to me."

You rolled your eyes jokingly. "I write poetry sometimes, but mostly just short stories. Nothing publishable, they're not that good." You ignored Lando's exasperated huff, and continued. "As for reading, I like romcoms and thrillers. I know, they're both opposites, but they're my favorites. Do you like to read?"

Lando shook his head. "Nope, I'm not a reader. But I don't mind you talking about the books that you're reading. Girls talking about their interests are single-handedly the most attractive thing I've ever witnessed."

"And how many girls do you usually have to talk to about such matters?" you inquired.

"I'm not a player, if that's what you're getting at," Lando said, his eyes wide. "I've had a few girlfriends, but none of them worked out. I'm not a cheater. If I'm talking to one girl, that's it. No one else matters."

You pursed your lips. "That's nice."

"It's basic decency," he corrected you sternly. "As for my hobbies, I like to game and drive cars."

"Like... sports cars?" you waited for clarification, confused.

Lando blinked, taken aback. "Y/N...Isolde didn't tell you?"

Panic flooded you, as you thought that you'd missed some important clue as to who he was. You were utterly oblivious. "No?"

"I'm a Formula One driver. For McLaren."

Oh. "Really?" you said quizzically. "She didn't tell me. She was probably respecting your privacy, and left that detail up to you."

Lando inclined his head. "That's nice of her, but I feel like a muppet. Do you watch F1?"

"Not really, I've watched a few Grand Prix, but I don't know much." You swallowed roughly. "Is that a dealbreaker?"

Lando frowned. "No. It's all the more reason to buy you paddock passes and show you what you're missing out on."

The waitress came by, and you ordered a few drinks and a small meal. You kept talking, slowly becoming more relaxed with one another. Lando informed you about his golf obsession, and you teased him, calling him an old man. In retaliation, he stole the cherry from your drink like a quick, cunning monkey, and you laughed so hard you couldn't breathe.

Isolde was right: Lando was amazing.

When you finished drinking and eating, Lando immediately offered to pay, but you pushed back, protesting loudly. "Let me split the bill, please."

"I have more than enough money for the both of us. It's the respectful thing to do," he reminded you.

You scowled at him, but gave up the fight you knew you were losing. "Fine."

You gathered your belongings, entering Lando's number into your phone, and bid him goodnight. Lando had given you a quick kiss on the cheek, thanking you for the date, and your body had bloomed with warmth at the sensation. "See you soon?"

"Yep," you beamed.

You knew this was just the first of many dates, and the start of a romance for the ages.

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #ln4 #ln4 x reader #lando norris #formula one #f1 fic #f1 writer #f1 fanfic

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misshoneyimhome · 11 days ago

Text

What’s up buttercups!

Another day in paradise—aka Chapter Fifteen (or something like that…) 🌙 You know what they say: three things can’t stay hidden forever—the sun, the moon, and the truth 💕 And let’s be honest… nothing good ever comes from keeping secrets from your best friends.

Well—except maybe hot, steamy sex with a certain captain… but who’s counting? 🙈

As always, happy reading, and all my love from yours truly 🥰

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, language, 18+ soft: soft dom/sub play, praise kink, lip biting, handcuffs, tied up, oral pleasure (f receiving), sex toy (vibrator), some overstimulation, unprotected vag sexual intercourse, cum inside, aftercare

Word count: 7.3k Chapter one ; Chapter two ; Chapter three ; Chapter four ; Chapter five ; Chapter six ; Chapter seven ; Chapter eight ; Chapter nine; Chapter ten; Chapter eleven; Chapter twelve; Chapter thirteen ; Chapter fourteen

Some who might have interest: @hockeybabe87 @tonyspep @thesecretestblogever @delayed-delusions @kurlyteuvo @emsdevs

➼｡ﾟ

Chapter Fifteen: A Knight's Move

“Dearest Toronto readers,

We’re still breathless from the heat of Wednesday night—on and off the ice.

Auston Matthews may have played like a man possessed (one goal, one assists, and more smirks than shifts), but it was the post-game hallway showdown that had our inbox flooded. A little birdie tells us that Ryan-the-ex made an unscheduled appearance backstage… and walked out with more than just a bruised ego.

But here’s what we know: the Queen didn’t wait to be saved. She stepped in. Defended her king. And later? Well, let’s just say the treatment room saw more action than the crease.

So now we ask… what happens after the passion? After the blood, the bruises, and the breathless confessions?

Word on Bay Street is that cracks are beginning to show—not on the ice, but in the Queen’s camp. A surprise visitor. A tension-filled lunch. And whispers that her most trusted knight may be turning away.

Meanwhile, the Ice King has gone silent. Brooding. Cold, even for him. The team feels it. His smile’s gone missing. And the locker room? Let’s just say not everyone’s in love with his love life.

All we’ll say is this: when knights move, they don’t fall quickly. But they do shake the board.

Hold your crowns close, darlings.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

Thursday –

Chase had always been mildly annoying—too smug, too polished, the kind of guy who used the word “leverage” in casual conversation. But lately, his attention had shifted. You noticed it in the way he lingered near your desk a bit longer, the way he asked about Auston with too much curiosity and too little subtlety. He’d started dropping into your inbox more often too—quick messages about player media timing or sponsorship visibility that didn’t need to come from him. Always signed with a too-chummy “Talk soon ;)”.

“You know, I was just telling Dani in Partnerships,” he said on Thursday morning, leaning on the corner of your desk like he owned it, “we should really leverage the Matthews momentum this quarter. Maybe pitch a few co-branded charity activations? PR gold, right?”

You kept your expression neutral, eyes flicking up from your laptop just long enough to be polite. “Sure. I’ll run it by his team.”

Chase smiled too broadly. That smile he used when he thought he knew something. “Or you could run it by him directly. I mean, you two are pretty tight these days.”

You felt the words land like a pebble dropped in still water—small, but spreading. Your fingers paused above your keyboard. “We work well together.”

“Right,” he said, drawing the word out, tone dripping with meaning. “Work.”

He straightened his tie like he’d just checkmated you in a game you hadn’t even realised you were playing. You made a point of turning back to your screen, eyes narrowing slightly at your inbox.

“Anyway,” Chase added, already taking a step back, “if you ever need a second opinion—or a media push—you know where to find me.”

You didn’t answer. Just clicked into a blank email draft and started typing nonsense until he finally walked away. But your stomach stayed tight for the rest of the morning, the echo of his implication crawling beneath your skin.

He didn’t know. But he was close.

And that was almost worse.

Friday –

By contrast, Friday morning had started with promise.

Jess had texted the night before: Girl day prep. Mani/pedi & chai lattes? 11am. Bring gossip.

You’d taken the day off, and you’d practically clung to the plan like a lifeline all week—craving a break from the chaos, the gossip, the heat of Auston’s body pressed to yours and the lies you were barely keeping straight. Time with Jess felt like an exhale you hadn’t had in weeks.

You pulled on your softest cream sweater, the one with sleeves that hung over your wrists like a comfort blanket, and a pair of high-waisted jeans that didn’t scream “trying too hard.” Your hair went up in a claw clip, a swipe of mascara on your lashes, and a dab of gloss before you slipped into your boots. Civilian armour.

Jess was already waiting outside your usual coffee spot, oversized sunglasses perched atop her head and two drinks in hand.

“Look who remembered how to dress like a normal person,” she called as you approached, holding one of the cups out toward you like a prize. “No Leafs logo in sight. Are we okay? Blink twice if you’re being held hostage by the equipment manager.”

You laughed, wrapping your fingers around the warm cardboard sleeve. “Give me a break. I’ve been living in jerseys and PR-grade blouses for the past month. I forgot what normal felt like.”

“WAG life changes a woman,” she said with a teasing grin, linking her arm through yours as you fell into step. “Look at you—coffee in one hand, boyfriend in the starting line-up, your name getting whispered on Reddit. Auston’s been glowing lately. You keeping secrets from me, babe?”

You snorted into your cup, the chai burning just slightly on the way down. “Please. If anyone’s glowing, it’s Knies. His skin looks photoshopped.”

“Oh, I’m not denying the baby Leaf is thriving. But you,” Jess pointed a finger at you. “You’ve got that… post-honeymoon haze. That ‘I’m getting absolutely railed on a weekly basis and also maybe falling in love’ kind of glow.”

You nearly choked. “Jess.”

“What?” she laughed. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

You opened your mouth, ready to volley something snarky and vaguely defensive, but before the words could land, a voice pierced through the soft buzz of the street.

“There you are!”

You turned instinctively—and froze.

Your mother.

Wearing oversized sunglasses, carrying a miniature designer handbag, and smiling like she’d just walked onto a talk show set. Her heels clicked confidently on the pavement as she closed the distance.

“Mum?” you blinked, voice sharper than you meant. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Oh, don’t be silly.” She waved you off, air-kissing the air near your cheek like you weren’t halfway to a meltdown. “You said you were doing a girls’ day with Jess the other day, so I just figured… to be one of the girls.”

You whipped your head toward Jess mouthing, I’m so sorry.

“I thought I’d surprise you both,” your mother continued, slipping effortlessly into your inner circle like she’d RSVP’d. “It’s been ages since we had proper time together. And I have been dying to talk more about this Auston.”

You stared. At her pink-tinted lips. At her ridiculous sunglasses. At the universe, who clearly hated you.

Jess blinked. “Did… she just say dying?”

“Oh yes,” your mother chirped. “I mean, the dinner was lovely, but I didn’t get nearly enough time with him. He was so charming. And tall. I was telling your aunt about him last night. And don’t even get me started on those shoulders.”

You closed your eyes.

“Kill me,” you muttered into your chai.

Jess squeezed your arm once and murmured, “Babe. Breathe.”

The next couple of hours were bearable—just. Your mother was in her usual form: polished, pleasant, and passive-aggressively maternal. She asked about Auston’s schedule, his taste in wine, whether he was “still planning to do something nice for your birthday,” which you hadn’t even mentioned.

“He’s just so lovely,” she said at one point, sipping her chai. “I hope he’ll be around for Christmas. Your cousins would adore him.”

You nearly choked.

Jess watched you carefully, her brows pulling tighter every time your mother spoke about ‘plans with Auston Matthews’. You tried to smile, nod, make non-committal noises.

You should have known it wouldn’t stay easy for long.

After shopping, an awkward lunch and way too many excuses not to talk about Auston, your mother insisted on coming back to your flat. “Just a little chat,” she’d said, all bright smiles and false lightness. Jess had naturally come too, filling the train ride with stories about work drama, anything to keep the mood floating like a balloon you didn’t dare pop.

But now, inside your living room, the walls felt like they were pressing in.

Jess excused herself to the bathroom with a breezy “two minutes, promise,” leaving you alone with your mother, who perched on the edge of the sofa like a woman about to deliver a sermon.

You perched on the other end, your tea cooling fast between your palms.

She reached out, placing her manicured hand over yours, her voice low and purposeful.

“Darling, I’m only saying this because I care. If you and Auston are serious—truly serious—you need to start thinking about the future. Careers are important, but they can be flexible. Love… doesn’t always wait for you to be ready.”

Here it was again.

That same sentence, dressed in different lace.

The one she used when you didn’t call enough. When you chose late nights at the office over brunch with extended family. When she asked if you’d frozen your eggs yet, casually, over dessert.

But this time, it wasn’t about you.

Not really.

It was about him.

And just like that, something inside you snapped.

Maybe it was Chase’s smug face still lingering in your mind, dripping with implication. Maybe it was the constant pressure of your mother’s picture-perfect expectations. Maybe it was just the exhaustion—of keeping the story straight, of keeping yourself straight, in a life that had long since spun off script.

You opened your mouth to respond, but she was still talking, already steamrolling ahead, her tone bright, oblivious.

“I mean, of course you should have a wedding here in Ontario, but—”

“Mum!”

The word ripped out of you too loud, too raw, like a snapped bone.

She blinked, startled. “Excuse me?”

You stood up so fast your tea sloshed, setting it down with a clatter you didn’t mean.

“You have to stop,” you hissed, hands shaking, heart hammering painfully against your ribs. “All of this—you can’t talk like that. Like it’s real.”

A frown etched across her forehead. “What are you talking about?”

“This,” you said, gesturing helplessly at the air between you. “Me and Auston. It’s not real. It was never real.”

Your mother’s face froze, confusion hardening into something colder.

“You had dinner with him at our home,” she said slowly, disbelieving. “He helped your niece with her spaghetti.”

You let out a broken laugh. “Yeah. He’s really good at pretending. It’s an act, Mum. We’re not truly in love.”

Your voice cracked again, splintering under the weight of it.

“It was fake, okay?” you said, softer now, the admission falling out like ash. “We made a deal months ago. He needed help with the media, I needed credibility at work. It was supposed to be light, staged, strategic. And then it just… kept going. Got messy.”

Your mother’s mouth opened and closed, her hand withdrawing like you’d burned her.

“You… lied?” she said finally, almost breathless. “All this time?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said weakly. “Not like this. I didn’t think anyone would care—”

The soft sound of a door creaking open made your stomach lurch.

You turned.

Jess stood frozen at the edge of the hallway, one hand still resting on the doorframe.

Her expression was blank, but her eyes—God, her eyes were wide and hollow and wounded.

Your heart stopped dead in your chest.

“Jess—” you croaked, stepping toward her.

She flinched back—not dramatically, but enough that you felt it like a slap.

“I need a minute,” she said, her voice eerily steady, like she was holding herself together by the thinnest thread.

Then she turned, braid swinging with the force of her exit, and before you could move, before you could call after her, the door clicked shut behind her.

You stood there, breathing hard, the living room spinning slightly around you.

Behind you, your mother stayed frozen on the sofa, hands folded neatly again like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t just watched you unravel.

The clock ticked on the wall.

The room smelled faintly of cold tea and steam from the bathroom and everything you couldn’t say.

You didn’t sit back down.

You just stared at the door Jess had left through, feeling the hollow pit in your chest stretch wider, deeper.

You weren’t sure what hurt more: the look in Jess’s eyes, or the fact that telling the truth hadn’t fixed anything.

It had only broken what little you had left.

You: Please just text me when you get home. I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to happen like that. Please, can we talk?

There was no response.

You stared at the screen, willing the typing bubble to appear. It didn’t. After a few minutes, you locked your phone and pressed it flat against your thigh, as if closeness might summon forgiveness.

Your mother stood near the coat rack, her sunglasses pushed up onto her head, tapping her fingers against the leather of her handbag.

“Well,” she said eventually, her voice clipped with that brittle calm she defaulted to when she didn’t know which tone would land right. “I’ll give you some space.”

You nodded but didn’t look up. Not because you were angry—but because it was easier not to see the confusion on her face. The quiet disappointment. You didn’t owe her the full story, not now. She didn’t press. Just adjusted her coat and left without another word. The door clicked shut behind her with a softness that still managed to echo.

Silence followed instantly. Heavy. Dense.

You sat on the edge of the sofa, staring at the untouched mugs on the table. The tea had gone cold. Your chest felt the same—distant. Unwarmed.

You sent another message.

You: Please talk to me. I never wanted to lie to you. It just got complicated.

Still no response.

“Oh, dear readers. We always knew the Queen’s crown was heavy—what we didn’t expect was how sharply it would tilt when the truth finally slipped free.

The court is splintering. Whispers have turned to thunder. And now, a once-loyal knight has laid down her sword—not with a grand declaration, not with tears, but with a silence sharp enough to draw blood.

Sources say the Queen confessed a secret meant to stay buried, a truth too jagged to fit the fairy tale. What started as a game of appearances has grown teeth, and the wounds it leaves behind? They are real.

And what of our Ice King? Word from inside the locker room says he’s colder than ever. Quieter. Disconnected. The kind of distracted that leaves coaches frowning and teammates whispering behind closed doors.

Something has shifted, Toronto. The board has cracked. The knight has moved—and now, for the first time, the Queen stands truly alone. - The Benchwarmer.”

The air inside the locker room still held the sticky bite of morning skate—sweat, detergent, damp tape, and whatever godawful cologne Knies had decided was his “signature scent” this week. Auston sat on the bench, hunched over his skates, aggressively yanking at the laces like they’d insulted his mother.

Mitch flopped down beside him with all the grace of a man who’d never learned how to sit quietly.

“You good?” he asked casually.

Auston didn’t look up. “I’m fine.”

From across the room, Morgan Rielly gave a loud, disbelieving snort. “Ah yes. The ancient hockey lie.”

Mitch smirked. “Seriously, though—you’ve been weird.”

Auston shot him a look. “Thanks for the diagnosis.”

“No, like… mood swing weird,” Knies added, towelling his hair dry. “You were full-on Captain Hardass in video review yesterday, and then I caught you literally humming during warmup.”

“It was Lovebug,” William added without looking up from his phone. “Not even ironically. Just… sincere.”

Auston groaned. “Jesus. Are you all stalking me now?”

Morgan leaned against the wall of his stall. “Nah, man. You’re just loud with your moods. You snapped at the equipment guy because your laces were too short.”

“They were too short,” Auston muttered.

“And then you texted me at 12:47 am asking if I knew a florist,” Morgan continued, deadpan.

“I was ordering flowers. For my mom.”

A beat of silence.

“You hesitated,” Mitch said gleefully. “You totally hesitated.”

William glanced up. “Your mom also the one who made you smirk like a movie villain when she showed up in your jersey on Wednesday?”

Auston yanked off his second skate with more force than necessary. “Can everyone shut the hell up?”

“Oh, he’s pissed,” Knies grinned. “Classic denial stage.”

“Not denial,” Auston muttered. “Just don’t see why it’s your business.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Well, considering you’ve been stomping around like you lost a fight with your own feelings? Kinda is our business.”

“I didn’t lose a fight,” Auston snapped, then paused. “Not—emotionally.”

“Oh, he’s admitting there was a fight,” Mitch stage-whispered.

Auston glared at him.

Morgan held up a hand. “Alright, let’s just run through the facts: You met her family. You text your defenceman at midnight for bouquet advice. You skate like a god when she’s watching and brood like Batman when she’s not.”

“I do not brood.”

“You are brooding right now,” Knies said, pointing with a grin.

Auston leaned back against the locker, jaw tight. The cool metal pressed into his shoulders, but it didn’t ground him the way he needed. Not today.

“She’s just…” He trailed off, jaw working.

“Just what?” Morgan pressed.

“It’s complicated.”

Mitch’s eyes widened theatrically. “Ooooh. That’s what people say when they’re in love and scared shitless.”

“I’m not in love,” Auston said quickly. Too quickly.

Silence.

Knies raised both eyebrows. “Not yet, or not admitting it?”

Auston didn’t answer.

Morgan crossed his arms, voice softening just slightly. “Look, man. We’ve seen you play lights-out when she’s around. We’ve also seen you spiral when you’re in your own head. She’s good for you—even if it started weird, or messy, or whatever you don’t want to say out loud.”

Auston stared at the floor.

“She’s not just some girl,” Morgan added. “Not anymore. And if you’re seeing your mom this week?”

Mitch let out a low whistle. “Yikes. Mama Matthews will get it out of you, dude.”

Auston dragged a hand down his face, sighing hard enough to blow the hair from his forehead. The cut under his lip still stung when he moved too much. Everything felt like it was catching up with him—Ryan, Jess, you. His temper. His heart.

“I don’t know how to talk to her,” he said finally. “Not about… whatever this is.”

“You already are,” Mitch shrugged. “You’re just doing it with your eyes and not your mouth.”

William nodded once, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Tell her before someone else does. Girls don’t wait around forever. Especially not ones like her.”

There was a pause. Long enough for the weight of it to settle in Auston’s chest.

Knies cleared his throat. “You’re not fooling anyone, man. Just call her.”

Auston stood, grabbing his hoodie from the hook behind him. “I’ve got shit to do.”

“Like what?” Mitch called after him.

Auston didn’t stop walking. “Like figure out what the hell I’m doing.”

He shoved the hoodie on over his head and muttered, more to himself than anyone else, “why do things always have to be so fucking messed up.”

William smirked as the door clicked behind him. “Think he finally got it?.”

Your phone buzzed just as you were folding a hoodie you didn’t want to wear and didn’t want to put away. The cotton was soft, worn at the seams, smelling faintly of clean laundry and memories you hadn’t decided whether to keep or let go.

Auston: Come over?

Two words. No emoji. No punctuation. Just space. An open door. A question wrapped in quiet.

You sat on the edge of your bed, the fabric bunched beneath your thighs, phone resting heavy in your palm. You stared at the message, thumb hovering like it was waiting for some divine cue. It wasn’t the kind of text that demanded a response. It didn’t shout.

It whispered.

Like he knew you were drowning a little and didn’t want to pull you under—just offer a hand, open and patient, if you wanted to take it.

You didn’t know what to say. Jess still hadn’t answered your messages. Not even a read receipt. Just silence. And every minute that passed only deepened the hollow in your chest, carving out more space where the ache lived.

You were tired.

Of lying.

Of pretending you weren’t aching.

Of chasing a version of yourself you barely recognised anymore.

You didn’t want to talk.

You just… didn’t want to be alone.

So, you typed one word, hand barely steady:

You: Okay.

—

The Uber ride was a quiet blur. You didn’t bother with makeup—your skin still carried the soft salt of dried tears and city air. You’d pulled your sleeves over your hands, thumb rubbing along the seam like it might keep your pulse steady. Outside, the world was grey and blurred—lights smeared across rain-speckled glass, buildings and people reduced to silhouettes.

You didn’t bring a bag. Just your phone. Just your body and the ache sitting inside it like ballast.

Auston’s building loomed familiar now, like a place you returned to more than you meant to. The lobby lights were soft, golden, the hum of the elevator muted and warm. The front desk guy gave you a nod but didn’t say anything, just tapped the counter lightly—like a secret handshake only the two of you understood.

His door was unlocked.

The hallway was quiet. Carpeted silence. And when you pushed it open, the soft scent of him hit you immediately—cedarwood and something darker. Muskier. Intimate. Like skin. Like comfort.

There was no music playing. No TV flickering in the background. Just the faint hiss of the furnace kicking in and the soft buzz of the refrigerator.

And him.

He was standing in the kitchen, hoodie sleeves pushed up over his forearms, the drawstrings tangled loosely at his chest. His hands were planted flat on the counter, knuckles pale, like he needed the contact to stay grounded. His head was bowed slightly, hair a little messy, jaw dark with stubble.

He didn’t turn when you stepped in. Just exhaled. Like the tension had known you were coming before he did.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Your throat tightened around the word waiting there. “Hey.”

He glanced over his shoulder—only briefly, but enough for his eyes to catch yours. There was no smile. Just something softer. Something raw.

“You came quickly,” he said, voice low and even. “I mean… it’s nice to see you.”

The words slipped into your chest like warm hands pressing gently against your ribs. Not demanding. Not coaxing. Just… kind.

You nodded. Didn’t trust your voice not to crack. Not when you were already barely stitched together.

He stepped back from the counter, gesturing slightly with one hand. “You hungry?”

You shook your head. Even the thought of food turned your stomach. He must’ve known.

His eyes lingered. Dark and steady. Like he was reading you—scanning your face like it held all the answers he didn’t know how to ask. You saw the faint twitch in his brow, the way his jaw worked, like he was biting back instinct. But he didn’t ask. He didn’t push.

He just walked over and stood in front of you. Not touching. Not demanding. Just… there. A little slouched. A little tired. Like you.

“I’m not good at this,” he said, voice barely above a murmur. “But I’m trying.”

You looked at him then—really looked. At the faint purple shadow still blooming beneath one eye. The cut on his bottom lip, a thin slash of red half-healed. At the way his shoulders stayed tense, like he was bracing for a punch you weren’t going to throw.

You stepped closer. Rested your forehead against his chest.

His hands found your waist instantly. Hesitant. Gentle. But certain. Like he’d been craving this moment all day and didn’t know if he was allowed to reach for it.

You closed your eyes and breathed him in.

He smelled like skin warmed under fabric. Like clean laundry and cedar and something you couldn’t name but knew by heart. Your fingers curled into the hem of his hoodie.

“Rough day,” you whispered.

“Yeah,” he said against your hair. “Me too.”

You stayed like that. Breathing in sync. Hearts thudding too loud.

Then, slowly, you slid your hands under his hoodie, palms smoothing over the warmth of his bare stomach, up across the planes of his chest. His breath hitched the moment you touched skin. His muscles tensed beneath your fingers.

“I… I don’t want to talk… or think,” you murmured. “Not right now.”

His head dipped, lips brushing your temple. “Then don’t.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him. The light in the room was soft, catching the edges of his jaw, the faint crease between his brows.

His eyes were already darker. Focused. Waiting for permission.

“I don’t need sweet,” you said. “Not tonight.”

His jaw flexed. “No?”

You shook your head. “I just need… less thinking. Less feeling. Just… forget about everything and fuck.”

He exhaled through his nose—slow, controlled—but his hands gripped your waist tighter.

“I can do that.”

And then he kissed you.

Not softly.

Not cautiously.

It was heat and hunger and restraint wound so tight it sang in your bones. His mouth opened against yours, tongue brushing deep, one hand tangling in your hair while the other held your hip like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

You whimpered into his mouth, fingers curling into the hem of his hoodie, pulling him closer. He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t wait. His hands found your thighs, gripping tight as he lifted you onto the counter with a grunt that rumbled deep in his chest.

The granite was cold beneath you, but it didn’t matter. Not when his body pressed between your legs like gravity.

His hands bracketed your hips, thumbs digging into denim.

“I want to play,” he murmured against the skin of your neck. “I want to see how far you’ll let me go.”

Your heart skipped. Your breath caught.

“Go as far as you want.”

He froze—just for a second. Just long enough to look at you. To see if you meant it.

“You sure?”

You nodded, voice trembling. “Please.”

His gaze swept over you—slow, deliberate. He saw everything. The ache. The want. The weight.

Then he kissed you again—deeper this time, rougher.

“Bedroom,” he growled.

And you let him lead. You let yourself fall.

He didn’t speak as he led you to the bedroom—just took your hand and walked you down the hallway, slow and steady, like he already knew you’d follow. Like there was no question of where you belonged. The hallway light cast soft shadows over the floor, and with every step, your heart beat louder in your ears.

The door clicked shut behind you with a quiet finality.

No candles. No music. Just the hush of the room breathing around you.

He pulled his hoodie over his head with one swift motion and tossed it to the chair in the corner. His chest rose with a sharp inhale, the muscle beneath his tattooed skin was tight with tension that didn’t quite feel like restraint—it felt like purpose. Pressure, waiting to break.

You stood near the foot of the bed, your breath caught somewhere between your ribs and your throat, spine tingling with anticipation.

Then Auston turned to face you fully. His jaw was tight and his eyes unreadable. He didn’t smile.

He just looked like a man ready to unravel.

“Take off your clothes,” he said, voice low and deliberate.

There was no question in it. No pause. Just command.

Your stomach flipped just a little, but you didn’t hesitate. Because it wasn’t a bad feeling, it was… thrilling.

You peeled off your sweater, the fabric catching slightly on your fingers. Then your jeans along with your knickers, slow and trembling. You unclasped the hook of your bra behind your back, straps slipping from your shoulders. And then you stood there bare before him, shivering slightly—not from cold, but from the weight of his stare.

He watched all of it. Silently with arms crossed, head tilted slightly like he was trying to commit the image to memory.

And then he moved.

Crossed the space between you in two strides. One hand came up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing lightly beneath your chin. His eyes searched yours—not for hesitation, but for confirmation. And he found it.

Then he kissed you.

Hard.

Hungry.

His mouth slanted over yours with a force that stole the air from your lungs, all grit and heat and unspoken ache. You opened for him instinctively, gasping into the space between your lips as his tongue swept against yours. His other hand came to rest at your lower back, pulling you flush against the bare heat of his chest.

Your hands roamed his muscular chest - or his arms, or neck. Just anywhere you could touch.

He groaned against you, deep in his chest like the sound had been waiting to come out all night. His mouth lingered near yours, his breath hot, lips brushing yours again—soft, but laced with restraint that only made you tremble harder.

And then he bit down on your lower lip.

Just enough to sting. To claim. To make you gasp into his mouth like it was the only thing tethering you to the ground.

When he finally pulled back, your lips felt swollen. Your breath was ragged.

His thumb dragged slowly over your bottom lip, eyes dark with heat and something unreadable. His voice came out rough, frayed at the edges. “Fuck, you look good like this.”

You barely had time to respond before his tone shifted.

“Get on the bed.”

The words were low, deliberate, and commanding in a way that made your knees nearly buckle, your body responding before your mind had the chance to question it. You obeyed without hesitation, moving back slowly until the backs of your legs brushed against the mattress. Breath shallow, heart drumming loud in your ears, you climbed up and sank into the sheets, lying back near the headboard with your arms loose at your sides and your eyes never leaving his.

He didn’t move immediately. He just watched you for a beat longer, his expression unreadable, jaw tight as if holding back the weight of everything unsaid. Then he turned, walked to the bedside table, and slid open the drawer with calm purpose. The faint sound of metal shifting inside broke the hush of the room, and when he turned back to you, he was holding something small, cool, and silver between his fingers.

Handcuffs.

Not fuzzy. Not playful. Just sleek and cold.

His gaze locked with yours, his tone quieter now but laced with authority. “Do you trust me?”

The question hung thick in the air between you, humming with tension and electricity. It wasn’t gentle or coy—it was rooted in something deeper and heavier, edged with promise.

You nodded.

But he wasn’t satisfied.

“Say it,” he murmured, voice huskier, hungrier.

Your voice cracked, but you didn’t hesitate. “I trust you.”

He moved toward you, slow and sure, and climbed onto the bed, kneeling between your thighs with a deliberate steadiness that sent a shiver down your spine. His hands were warm and certain as he guided your arms upward, positioning your wrists together above your head. The first cuff closed around your right wrist with a soft metallic click. The second fastened your left and to the metal loop in the headboard. The restraint was firm but not harsh, and when you tested the give, you realised you were bound—open, vulnerable, and entirely his.

But surprisingly not afraid.

He leaned down and pressed a single kiss to your shoulder, the heat of his lips branding you gently, and then he pulled back just enough for you to see the shift in his eyes. The hunger. The control. The promise of what was coming.

“You want to forget?” he murmured, voice like velvet and fire. “Then I’m going to make sure you don’t think at all.”

The words sank into your chest like a fuse being lit.

You whimpered, just barely, and that was all he needed.

His mouth curved into something feral as he reached for you, hands gripping your thighs firmly. In one rough pull, he dragged your body closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him, his strength making your breath catch as your cuffed arms pulled taut above you.

Then he dropped to his knees.

His palms settled on your hips, fingers flexing. And then his mouth met your cunt—hot, sure, and consuming.

“Oh fuck, Auston—”

He didn’t pause, didn’t tease. He licked into you with single-minded focus, no warning, no slow build. His tongue was firm and relentless, working you like he was trying to wring every last drop of tension from your body. Like he needed to punish you and pleasure was the weapon.

Your hips bucked instinctively, searching for more, for relief, but the cuffs held you down. Helpless beneath the onslaught of his mouth, you couldn’t move, couldn’t shift, only take what he gave you.

His grip tightened on your thighs, anchoring you as his tongue circled and dragged and pressed in maddening, perfect rhythm. The obscene sound of wet heat filled the room, and your legs were already trembling, breath catching with every flick of his tongue. His nose bumped your clit just right, again and again and again, pushing you further until it was almost too much to take—

And then he stopped.

You gasped, hips twitching in the air as he stood, leaving you bare and throbbing in the quiet.

Your eyes followed him, still dazed, as he reached back into the drawer and pulled out a slim black vibrator. He flicked it on with a soft buzz that seemed to echo, and the low hum filled the room like a warning.

Your breath hitched.

Your eyes widened.

But he simply smirked.

“You said no more feelings,” he said, voice low and unapologetic. “So, I’m going to give you everything.”

He climbed back between your legs, dragging the vibrator slowly along your inner thigh, making your skin jump beneath the touch, teasing you with every pass but never quite giving you what you needed.

And then he pressed it against your clit, firm and direct, so your whole body jolted.

You cried out, arching in the cuffs, breath punched from your lungs.

“Too much?” he asked, the vibration never letting up.

You shook your head frantically, already straining against the edge. “No. Please. Don’t stop.”

The orgasm hit too fast, too sharp, tearing through you with a force that made your vision blur. Your wrists strained in their restraints as your hips bucked, but he didn’t let up—not even for a second.

The toy stayed right where it was—circling, pressing, punishing. And then his fingers joined in—one at first, then two—slipping inside you and curling just right, perfectly, devastatingly.

You came again, this time with a cry that cracked your voice wide open. You sobbed through it, raw and breathless, as your whole body shook.

Then retreating his fingers, he kissed your cheek, your neck, his voice like gravel in your ear.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “Fucking gorgeous when you break.”

The vibrator finally clicked off, leaving a silence that felt just as charged as the hum had been. Your breath came in shallow gasps, your chest heaving as you blinked up at him.

And then he stood.

He shoved down his sweats and boxers in one motion and stepped back between your thighs, cock thick and flushed, his gaze locked on yours as he lined up and sank into you in one long, brutal stroke.

The stretch was sharp, overwhelming, but you were soaked and ruined and ready, your cunt fluttering around him like it didn’t know how to handle the fullness.

You moaned—loud and desperate—as the handcuffs clinked above your head, the metal cold around your wrists.

Auston groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder. “You feel like fucking heaven.”

And then he started to move.

Hard and rough.

Not violent, but forceful in rhythm, every thrust landing with the force of everything he hadn’t said. Deep and unrelenting as your body clung to him, spasming with every stroke.

You cried out—again and again, your voice breaking.

“Can’t handle it?” he asked, breath ragged against your skin, but he never slowed.

Tears streaked your cheeks. But your answer didn’t waver.

“Yes,” you gasped. “Don’t. fucking. stop... please”.

He kissed your temple. Just once. And then he fucked you harder.

You lost all track of time. All sense of where your body ended and his began. All that existed was the throb between your legs, the slick sound of skin meeting skin, and the low rasp of his voice when he whispered your name like it meant salvation. He was fucking your brains out.

And when you came again, you broke around him with a sob that shook your whole body.

“Fuck—baby, that’s it,” he groaned. “Give it to me. Let me feel you.”

Because he wasn’t far behind. You felt it in the way his hips began to stutter, in the way his hands gripped your wrists tight enough to bruise.

And when he finally climaxed, it was with a deep, broken sound in your ear. His hips jerked, his cock pulsed inside you, and his arms wrapped tight around your arms as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

You stayed like that for a long moment. Breathless and bare. Tethered only to each other and the mess you’d made.

And just like that… then came the gentle part.

He eased out of you slowly, careful like he didn’t want to startle you, before he reached up and released the cuffs one at a time, massaging your wrists with tender fingers, and pressing a kiss to the inside of each.

“You okay?” he asked, voice rough with concern.

You nodded, your voice caught somewhere in your throat.

He brushed your hair from your face, thumb catching one of the tear streaks. “Good girl,” he whispered. “You took all of it.”

You didn’t know if you were floating or falling, but you knew you were safe. And that was enough.

The water steamed around you, beading down your shoulders, washing away the sweat, the heat, the high. Auston stood behind you in the shower, one hand braced against the tile near your head, the other resting lightly on your hip, steadying you. Neither of you spoke. You didn’t need to.

His fingers then moved slowly across your back, soap lathered into his palm, every touch careful and reverent—like he was trying to wash away more than just the night. You tilted your head slightly, letting it rest against his chest. The solid weight of him anchored you. His skin was warm, his heartbeat steady beneath your head, and for a moment—just one—it felt like the rest of the world had fallen away. Like this space, fogged with steam and breath and heat, was the only place that made any sense.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Something that felt gentle and almost thoughtful.

“You good?” he asked, voice quiet, rough with sleep and something softer.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He traced a slow path down your chest with the pads of his fingers. “Was it… too much?”

You shook your head. “No. It was everything I needed.”

He didn’t speak. Just exhaled, his breath brushing your temple.

The silence returned—not heavy, not cold. Just full. With everything neither of you had said yet.

But then you swallowed, your voice barely rising above the hum of water. “Jess knows.”

Auston didn’t flinch, but his fingers stilled against your skin.

And then you kept going, words trickling out like the water around you. “She overheard me talking to my mum. I didn’t mean for her to. I didn’t mean to tell anyone… not like that. It just spilled.”

He shifted, pulled you in closer, arms winding around your waist, chin resting lightly against the top of your head.

“Will she tell anyone?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know… she didn’t look angry. Just hurt. Like I’d broken something she thought was safe.”

He didn’t answer straightaway. He just held you tighter.

You let your fingers trail over the side of his forearm. “And Chase… he doesn’t know. I think… Not really. But he’s watching, and he’s asking questions.”

Auston nodded slowly, his lips brushing your ear. “We’ll handle it.”

You turned slightly to look at him. His face was softened by the steam, his hair wet and curling around his forehead. His eyes were steady. Serious. But not afraid.

“We?” you asked.

He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. We.”

The word landed in your chest and stayed there. Solid. Quiet. Sure. Like something you could build from, if you dared.

He reached in front of you and turned off the tap, and the silence that followed was almost loud, the gentle drip of water echoing in the small space as you stood together, bare and vulnerable, skin to skin.

He took a towel and wrapped you in it first, arms sliding around your shoulders as he tucked you in like instinct. Then he grabbed one for himself, rubbing at his hair with lazy hands before glancing toward the bedroom.

“Come on,” he said softly. “You can stay if you want.”

You hesitated. Just a breath. Just long enough to feel the weight of what wasn’t being said. You didn’t know what this meant—not yet. You didn’t have a plan or the right words for the shape this thing had taken between you.

But you didn’t want to leave.

Not tonight.

So, you just nodded, and he offered a smile—small, almost shy. Like it mattered more than he could say.

In the bedroom, he handed you a T-shirt—long and soft and worn in all the right places, unmistakably his—and waited while you slipped it over your head. Then he pulled back the covers, climbed into bed, and held them open like an invitation.

You climbed in without a word.

The sheets were warm and smelled like him. Like the sex you just had.

You then curled into his side, your head on his chest, his hand resting gently at your hip under the covers, fingertips drawing slow, aimless circles into your skin.

And there, in the hush of the room, with the storm outside your mind finally quiet, you let yourself drift.

“Dearest Toronto readers,

We told you the board had shifted.

While the Ice King skated through morning drills with a jaw like stone and a stare that could curdle milk, whispers began to curl around the edges of the rink. His mood, some said, was unstable. But we disagree. It wasn’t the throne cracking—it was the walls around his heart.

You felt it, didn’t you? The silence behind locker room doors. The soft unravelling in hallway glances. The storm before something honest.

And then—she appeared. Not on a red carpet. Not in a press release. But quietly, in a hoodie and tired eyes, walking into the Ice King’s private domain like she’d been there all along.

We hear the suite was quiet that night. No champagne. No flashbulbs. Just hands held under running water. Secrets whispered between kisses. And a woman who knew exactly what she needed: not a saviour, but a sanctuary.

Even the sharpest observers sometimes miss the softest truths.

But not us.

Not when the Queen lays down her armour and still commands the room. Not when she admits what hurts—and lets someone else help carry it.

She didn’t need rescuing. But she still chose to be held.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

#The Benchwarmer #inexperienced!reader x Auston #auston matthews fanfic #Toronto maple leafs fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl romance #nhl imagines

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moniquesha · 7 days ago

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sharing is NOT caring

first

Pair: College!Bucky x reader

Summary: You and your twin were nothing alike, except when it came to men. That one shared taste might be what tears you both apart.

Warnings: there are both of you here, violence, angst, fluff, filthy smut, cheating, pick me behaviour, crazy twists, had a hard time writing this.

Masterlist

You blink. She’s offering. No hesitation, no judgment, just you and your people welcome to join. You didn’t expect that kind of generosity, but there it is. Casual, almost effortless. You glance over your shoulder to spot Chloe and Pietro in the crowd, not far off, probably caught up in their own thing. You wonder if they’d even care if you tagged along somewhere else.

“Alright,” you say, trying to keep your voice light. “I’ll ask them. But you’ve got to promise me no weird vibes at the after-party. I can’t handle any.. high society drama.”

Sharon laughs softly, a sound like a melody. “Drama’s overrated, trust me. This after-party is all about music and fun. No stress, no pretending. I swear.” You exhale a small sigh of relief, and for the first time tonight, you feel a little lighter.

Wanda’s grip is firm as she pulls you back into the bustling party, and her excitement is almost palpable. You can tell she’s been waiting for this moment, practically buzzing to hear all about your conversation with Sharon.

“Did you just meet Sharon?” she practically bounces in place, her eyes wide with that signature curiosity. You bite your lip a little, feeling the heat of your embarrassment creeping up your neck. “I guess I did. I didn’t even know that’s who she was until.. well, she told me.”

Wanda’s eyes practically gleam, and before you can finish your sentence, she playfully slaps your shoulder with a mischievous grin. “Well.. What did she tell you? What did you guys talk about?” Her voice rises with anticipation, and you can practically feel the whole room shift its attention onto you.

You shift uncomfortably, unsure how much to reveal. “Well.. not much, really. We just talked about the party, the house, the usual stuff,” you say quickly, trying to downplay it a little. “And then she invited me to the after-party, actually.”

Wanda’s face lights up like it’s Christmas morning. “She invited you? To an after-party?!”

You nod slowly, still not sure how to react. “Yeah, she said it’s just music and no drama. She said I could bring my friends too if I wanted.”

Wanda grins from ear to ear, a little more gleeful than she probably should be. “Y/N, that’s huge! Sharon Carter invited you to an after-party? You’re in with the cool crowd now!” She leans in like she’s telling you some sort of high-school secret. “You’ve just skipped to VIP status in one night.” You can’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm, but there’s still that knot of uncertainty in your stomach. “It doesn’t feel like that, though. I just met her. I didn’t even know she was the Sharon Carter until she said it.”

Wanda waves her hand like it’s no big deal. “Details, details. She invited you. That’s a big deal.”

She leans back, her eyes scanning the party. “So, are you going to go? Is this your chance to break away from your sister and actually enjoy yourself for once?”

You feel a small wave of guilt wash over you at the thought of ditching Chloe. But something about it feels freeing. The idea of being somewhere else, even if only for a little while, sounds so tempting.

You watch as Wanda practically bounces with excitement, barely letting you get a word in edgewise before blurting out everything. It’s like she’s lived for this moment, like she’s been waiting to drop the "Y/N’s got an in with Sharon Carter!" bomb.

“Y/N just met Sharon Carter and she invited her to the after-party and we’re all invited too!” Wanda practically squeals, beaming with that infectious enthusiasm.

You smile softly at Wanda, but her over-the-top excitement makes you feel a bit awkward. This isn’t even a big deal, right?

Pietro’s reaction, however, says otherwise. “Holy shit! Really?” he says, eyes lighting up as he slaps a high-five with Wanda. “You’re pulling those kinds of strings already?”

The energy around you shifts to excitement, but then Chloe steps in, her arms crossed, her face unreadable, except for the slight smile that doesn’t quite match the curiosity in her eyes.

“Was it really Sharon?” she asks, her tone flat, like she’s testing the waters.

Before you can even open your mouth to respond, Wanda jumps in, her voice playful and teasing. “There’s only one Sharon, Chloe. Thank your sister that she’s got us into Sharon’s circle!”

You glance at Chloe, noticing her subtle shift, the way she’s holding herself, almost defensive. She might not outwardly show it, but something about the whole situation seems to be rubbing her the wrong way. Chloe sighs, her gaze flicking toward you, and then back to Wanda. “Well, thanks?” she says, her voice light but with a note of something else under it. She’s smiling, but it’s not quite a happy smile.

You feel a twinge of guilt, but you’re also caught in the excitement of something new, something different. It’s hard to ignore how the energy is shifting, how you're suddenly standing at the edge of a world that feels so different from your usual routine. You glance back at Sharon who was on top of the stairs talking to people, the thrill of it slowly sinking in.

You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the tension in the air. The excitement of the after-party is starting to sink in, and you don’t want to let any lingering awkwardness hold you back from experiencing it. After all, Sharon invited you, and Wanda’s right, this is your chance to step outside your usual bubble.

You turn to the group, giving them a bright, confident smile. “Alright, so.. I’m going. You all can come or not, but I’m in.”

Pietro immediately perks up, his grin widening. “I’m definitely in! Let’s go make some memories, huh?” He adds, already pulling at his jacket, clearly ready to go.

Wanda gives you a knowing nod. “That’s the spirit, Y/N! Trust me, it’s gonna be so much fun. We’re going to have the best time!”

You glance at Chloe, who still has her arms crossed, but there’s something in her gaze that you can’t quite read. Still, she doesn’t object, and she only shrugs slightly, a small, almost resigned smile on her lips. “I guess I’ll come too, then. Can’t let you guys have all the fun, right?”

You nod, relieved that she isn’t making a bigger issue of it. The tension in the air still lingers a bit, but for now, you’re ready to dive in and enjoy the night.

The energy shifts almost immediately as Sharon rings the bell, her voice cutting through the buzz of the room. “Party’s over! You know the drill people!” It’s like she’s given the cue, and the crowd, with no hesitation, starts moving toward the exit. The atmosphere is electrified, but there’s this unspoken understanding that the real event is just beginning.

You watch as people file out, chatting and laughing, heading to their next destination like it’s just another stop on their night. Some linger, though, and you can tell they’re the ones who are in the know, those who are sticking around for what Sharon has intel.

You stay at the edge of the crowd, your eyes scanning the room, watching everyone else navigate the transition. You’re still a little out of place, but you’re here now. Your eyes find Sharon once again, standing on the stairs, confident and commanding.

“Well, the after-party is in the garden,” Sharon calls out from above, her voice effortlessly carrying across the room. “You know where to go guys!”

And just like that, the crowd begins to shift once more, heading for the garden. Sharon disappears into the hallways upstairs, leaving the others to follow her instructions. Some of the partygoers move with a sense of purpose, already knowing where to go.

You feel a small surge of curiosity and excitement. The garden, that’s where things are really happening now. You glance around at your friends, unsure of whether you’re the only one feeling like a bit of an outsider, or if they’re just as new to this as you are.

The four of you navigate through the grand hallways, your steps echoing in the quiet before you finally emerge into the garden. The sight that greets you is almost surreal, like something out of a dream. White roses are scattered everywhere, their petals glowing softly in the moonlight. The centerpiece of the garden is a large campfire, crackling warmly, surrounded by plush seating where people are gathered, talking and laughing in small groups.

To the side, there's a table with a selection of drinks and snacks laid out, unlimited, ready for anyone who wants to indulge. Some people are already hanging around the fire, chatting casually, but you notice they seem more relaxed than the crowd inside. They know the vibe here, this is where the real fun happens.

You pause for a moment, trying to take it all in. The space is beautiful, calming even, but there’s a nervous energy that hums beneath your skin. You count the group in your head, four of you, eleven others scattered around. Sharon isn’t here yet, but you can tell her presence is expected.

The mix of emotions is overwhelming. You’re excited, yes, but also a little anxious. What now? You’ve stepped into something bigger than what you’re used to, and it’s easy to feel small in the middle of it all.

As you step into the garden, it feels like the entire room shifts its focus to you. Eyes subtly track your movements, not with judgment, but curiosity, and a few smiles are exchanged in your direction. There’s no awkwardness in their gaze, it’s just an acknowledgment that new faces have entered the mix. It’s a strange feeling, but it doesn’t last long. Sharon follows right behind you, her energy infectious, immediately taking control of the situation.

“There you guys are!” Sharon exclaims, smiling widely. “Everyone, gather around, we have new people here.”

The crowd quickly starts to shift, some stepping toward your group while others linger by the fire. Sharon’s confidence takes over as she guides everyone toward you. “Well, here’s Y/N and... Y/N?” she says, clearly confused, eyes scanning between you and Chloe. You can’t help but smile at the moment, this happens often, but it’s still fun to see Sharon try and figure it out.

“Chloe! I’m Chloe,” your twin chimes in, flashing a warm smile and waving a little, as if that should clear up any confusion.

With a laugh, you step in, “I’m Y/N.”

Wanda, standing close by, takes over from there, eager to introduce everyone. “I’m Wanda, and this is also my twin, Pietro.”

The rest of the crowd starts to gather around, and you notice the warmth in their smiles and their eyes. Despite the fact that this group seems to run on its own rhythm, you’re not feeling as out of place as you did inside. The ease with which they introduce themselves makes it feel less like a scene and more like a community.

Sharon, looking around, gives a nod, signaling the introductions to continue. “Well, introduce yourselves, guys. C’mon.” Her eyes scan the group, and with a small signal, they begin to speak up.

Natasha is the first. She’s dressed simply but stunningly, with piercing green eyes and an effortlessly composed presence. “Natasha,” she says with a nod, voice smooth like silk. “Welcome.” Standing beside her, offers a kind smile. “I’m Vis. It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.”

Yelena leans into Natasha slightly, crossing her arms with a mischievous grin. “Yelena. I like your vibe already,” she says, her eyes flicking between you and Wanda. Another guy steps forward next with a casual swagger. “I’m Sam. Don’t worry, we’re mostly normal,” he adds with a teasing grin that gets a few chuckles. A little younger man, gives an eager wave. “Peter Parker. If you need help sneaking out later, I know all the exits.” His nervous energy is obvious but endearing. Then Thor steps forward, tall and glowing like he just walked out of a myth. His smile is broad and welcoming. “Thor. That’s my brother over there–” he gestures, “Loki,” comes the reply, without the other man even needing to step forward. He stays seated near the fire, swirling a drink, eyes sharp and amused. “Don’t worry, I only bite if you ask nicely.”

You almost forget to breathe when a tall blonde guy steps up. Clean-cut, quiet confidence, eyes a shade of blue that’s almost unfair. “Steve Rogers,” he says simply. “Nice to meet you.” And finally, the one that seems to peak your interest, standing just slightly behind Steve, nods with a cool smile. “Bucky Barnes. Welcome to the weirdest, nicest party you’ll ever go to.”

You feel it, that slow unraveling of nerves. You’re not just tolerated here. You’re being welcomed.

The group stands there, everyone’s eyes moving from one person to the next, as the introductions wrap up. There’s this air of ease about them, each one of them seems to know their place, and while you might not know everyone here, you do know that this is a group that operates on its own wavelength. You can already sense that the dynamics between them are tight-knit, but there’s room for more.

You can’t help but glance around the garden, your mind reeling with the realization of just how gorgeous everyone here is. It’s like stepping into a world of impossibly beautiful people, all with their own magnetic energy. You catch yourself thinking, What the hell? as your eyes flick over them. They’re all effortless, like they’ve walked out of a movie scene or a magazine cover. It’s a bit overwhelming, but it’s also fascinating.

Sharon, always in control, smiles brightly and gives everyone the freedom to wander. “Enjoy yourselves, guys. Please?” she says, her tone warm and inviting, and soon enough, the group disperses. Conversations pick up again, and the buzz of the party flows through the garden.

Wanda stands beside you, leaning in with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Okay, so? Who’s your pick of the litter?” she whispers, voice teasing.

You immediately shake your head, trying to play it cool. “What? No one! I just met these people,” you reply quickly, a little flustered.

Wanda raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile curling on her lips. “Well, whatever. Vis is cute,” she admits nonchalantly, shooting a playful, flirty smile toward him. To both of your surprise, he returns the smile with an equally charming expression. Wanda lets out a soft chuckle, clearly enjoying the moment.

Before you can respond, Pietro calls out from the side, clearly already feeling the alcohol taking over. “More drinks that’s unlimited, c’mon,” he grins widely, like he’s in love with the idea of free alcohol more than anything else.

You glance at Wanda, then Pietro, your heart still racing with the excitement of it all. You feel a little out of place, but also a part of something new. This night is shaping up to be more interesting than you expected. You decide to dive right in, embracing the energy of the night. The buzz of excitement is contagious, and you can’t help but feel your nerves slip away as you follow Pietro to the drink table. The sound of laughter and conversation fills the air, the campfire crackling nearby as the cool night breeze dances through the garden. It feels like you’ve stepped into another world, one where everything is just a little more carefree.

Pietro grabs a couple of drinks, handing one to you with a mischievous grin. “Cheers to the after party,” he says with a wink. You take it, the glass cold against your palm. The alcohol already starts to ease your nerves, and for the first time tonight, you start to feel like you belong.

Wanda’s right beside you, still teasing you about the “pick of the litter” comment, but there’s a lightheartedness to her tone. She’s having fun, and it’s hard not to catch her infectious vibe. You glance around at the others, Vis and Wanda seem to be in their own world, sharing a smile that doesn’t go unnoticed, while Pietro’s laughter carries across the garden.

You spot Thor and Loki chatting nearby, their conversation light but filled with sharp humor. Steve and Bucky are in their own corner, relaxed and casual. It’s like everyone here has their own thing going on, but somehow, it all feels connected. As everyone gathers around the campfire, drinks and snacks in hand, the atmosphere shifts into something more relaxed and intimate. The flames dance in front of you, casting shadows on the group as Sharon takes the lead and begins the conversation.

Pietro tosses you a knowing smile as he sits beside Chloe, and Wanda makes sure she’s next to you, close enough that her quiet reassurance wraps around you like a second sweater. Someone cracks open a soda, another grabs a drink from the table, and soon, the conversation drifts into the universal topic for young adults with half-destroyed sleep schedules and caffeine addictions: college.

Sam is the one who kicks it off. “So what schools are we all trying to survive right now?” he asks as he leans back in his chair, balancing a beer on his knee. “I swear, NYU’s trying to break me.”

“NYU?” you ask, surprised. “That’s where we go, too.”

Wanda grins. “Yup. NYU engineering department is literally our second home now.”

“Same here,” Pietro chimes in, throwing an arm around the back of Chloe’s chair. “It’s how we all met, actually.” Chloe flashes a polite smile. “We’re in the same program,” she says, glancing at you like she wants to remind them who's always been top of the class, but you brush it off with a soft smile.

Sharon lifts her drink from across the circle. “NYU gang,” she smirks, giving you a small nod. “Glad to see I won’t be the only one losing sleep this semester.” Sam lets out a groan. “I swear, if one more person tells me it’s all ‘just part of the college experience,’ I’m switching to culinary school.”

“Hey, NYU’s not all suffering,” Wanda offers. “We’ve got Sharon’s parties.”

“True,” Sam says. “That’s the only thing keeping me enrolled at this point.”

Yelena raises her hand like she’s in class. “Okay, but NYU’s cute and all. Columbia is where it’s actually at,” she boasts, winking at Natasha.

Peter perks up beside her. “Right? Columbia pre-med. Or trying to be, if organic chem doesn’t destroy me first.”

“Columbia, here too,” Vis adds, ever calm. “Philosophy. Quite the contrast to Peter.”

“I’m at Columbia as well,” Natasha says simply, already sipping her drink. “Though I’m not sure I belong there. They keep trying to make me mentor freshmen.”

“Poor freshmen,” Loki mutters from near the fire, lazily sipping something dark. “Imagine being forced to talk to her.”

Natasha glares but says nothing.

Thor laughs, clapping his brother’s shoulder. “We're Columbia too. Political science for me. Loki’s in... literature?”

“Literature and pain,” Loki replies, deadpan.

Steve and Bucky exchange looks. “Columbia,” Steve says, gesturing between them. “History for me. Bucky’s in art.” Bucky shrugs, smiling just enough. “Sketchbooks don’t assign essays.”

There’s a brief pause before Sharon speaks again, raising her glass. “Well,” she says, “looks like we’re a 50/50 split. Columbia vs. NYU.”

“Should we be worried this is going to turn into some weird university war?” Peter jokes, half-nervous. “If it does,” Wanda smirks, “just know NYU fights dirtier.” Laughter ripples through the group, and for the first time that night, you feel fully at ease, these people aren’t as bad as you thought so. The moment Sharon focuses her attention on you, the entire group turns their eyes your way. The warmth of the fire reflects in their gazes, and you suddenly feel a wave of self-consciousness hit you. Me..? Why me?

Before you can even process everything, Bucky speaks up, his voice cutting through the tension. “It’s usually because you said something so amazing to her, or she just likes your vibes.” He chuckles, and the rest of the group follows suit, laughing in agreement. It seems that everyone here has their own special connection with Sharon, some personal moment or a vibe that made her appreciate them even more.

Wanda and Pietro both look at you with a proud smile, as if they’re silently saying, That’s our friend. You notice the subtle shift, like they’re genuinely happy for you to be getting this attention. It’s warm, and their support is almost tangible.

But then your eyes meet Chloe’s, and you can’t help but feel a pang of discomfort. Her face is harder to read, her smile forced as she watches you. It’s clear that while everyone else is having fun, she doesn’t seem to know what to make of you being the center of attention, not her. There’s a quiet tension in her gaze that doesn’t go unnoticed, but you’re not sure if it’s jealousy or something else.

As the laughter dies down, the focus on you lingers a little longer, making your nerves kick up a notch. Sharon gives you a bright smile, clearly enjoying the moment of lighthearted attention. The group, still buzzing from their shared jokes, is waiting for you to add something to the conversation, but you find yourself unsure of what to say. Wanda nudges you gently, her voice light as she speaks, "Come on, you’ve gotta share some of your secrets, Y/N. What’s got Sharon so interested in you?"

You smile nervously, trying to shake off the feeling of Chloe’s gaze. “I don’t know,” you admit, the warmth of the fire and the alcohol slowly easing your discomfort. “I just said that her house is beautiful and that she’s kind for letting teens trash it.” That earned a few chuckles from everyone.

Sharon grins, clearly pleased with your answer, and the group nods, satisfied as well. It feels like you’ve passed some invisible test, and for the moment, the focus shifts again, this time to shared conversations and the relaxed hum of the fire crackling.

As time passes, the unease with Chloe’s tension starts to fade, but the feeling still lingers in the background. You can’t help but feel like there’s something unsaid between you two, something that could come up later. But for now, the night continues, and everyone begins to break off into smaller groups, chatting and laughing.

As you quietly excuse yourself, you hear some light footsteps behind you, and before you can even make it too far, Steve, Bucky, and Sam follow suit. “You heading to the powder room, too?” Steve asks with a casual grin, his presence making the atmosphere feel a little less heavy. His calm demeanor is oddly comforting.

“Yeah, just need a quick break,” you reply, feeling a bit lighter now that you're no longer the center of attention. You walk toward the hallway with the others trailing behind, their voices filling the quiet spaces around you.

Bucky, ever the laid-back one, chuckles. “If you’re looking for peace and quiet, this place might not be it. You can’t walk five steps without running into someone,” he says, his tone teasing but friendly. “But hey, it’s fun. Doesn’t feel like a typical party, right?”

Sam gives Bucky a look before chiming in, “It’s not exactly your average college shindig, that's for sure. But hey, it’s nice. Everyone’s got this.. chill vibe. Even if it’s a bit too fancy for my liking.” He grins, shaking his head. “I’m more of a low-key kind of guy.”

Steve chuckles, glancing at you with an easy smile. “I think it’s good you came out here. A change of scenery, you know? That kind of thing. No need to stay stuck in one spot.”

You nod, appreciating the warmth of the conversation. The three of them seem comfortable with each other, like a well-oiled machine, but not in a way that feels too much. It’s almost like they’re just friends casually hanging out, but with a layer of camaraderie that makes you feel like you're part of it, too.

“Besides,” Bucky continues, “You get to meet interesting people at places like this. It's not all about the fancy stuff. You’d be surprised at what you learn.” He shoots Sam a look, who just shrugs.

Sam raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Right, and Bucky here is the king of making connections.” He laughs, the sound easy and light.

“Well, someone’s gotta keep things interesting,” Bucky quips, but there's no malice in his voice. It’s all playful.

You walk toward the powder room, and the guys keep the conversation flowing as they follow, making small talk, their banter making the brief moment feel more relaxed. The lightheartedness between them starts to pull you out of your head, and the nervous energy you had earlier begins to fade away.

As you reach the powder room, you stop for a moment, hesitant to walk in. You look over at the guys, who are now standing by the door, giving you a bit of space but also offering subtle support. The night’s been a whirlwind, and even though their presence lightens the atmosphere, there's a lingering sense of unease in the pit of your stomach.

Bucky, sensing the change in your mood, steps away from the group, his voice quieter now. “Hey,” he says gently, his tone shifting from playful to a little more serious. “You doing alright? I know this scene can be a lot, especially with everything going on.”

You glance at him, his blue eyes meeting yours, the concern in his gaze unmistakable. There's something calming about him, the way he doesn’t try to push you to talk but makes it clear that he’s there if you need to.

“I’m good,” you reply softly, offering him a small but genuine smile. “Just processing, I guess.”

Bucky nods, his hands casually slipping into his pockets. “Yeah, I get that. Sometimes, it’s easy to get caught up in all the noise, you know? But don’t let it get to you too much. You’re here for a reason. You belong.”

His words settle into you, like a gentle reassurance you didn’t realize you needed. The noise of the party feels miles away, and for a moment, the only thing that matters is this quiet, shared space between you two.

“I just didn’t expect to be the center of attention,” you confess, the weight of the night feeling a little lighter as you admit it aloud. “Especially with everything going on.”

Bucky’s smile softens, and he takes a step closer, just enough to let you know he’s there, but not too close to make it uncomfortable. “Trust me, I get it. Sometimes it’s not easy to feel like everyone’s looking at you. But just remember, they’re looking because you’re interesting, Y/N. You’ve got something real about you. Don’t let anyone make you second-guess it.”

You nod, his words resonating with you in a way that calms your nerves more than you expected. He doesn’t know everything that’s been going on, but at this moment, it feels like he understands.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you say quietly, the weight lifting slightly off your shoulders.

“No problem,” he replies with a soft grin, A comfortable silence stretches for a moment. Then he pulls out his phone, holding it up with a raised eyebrow. “Let me get your number?”

You blink. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” he says with a chuckle, already typing. “Unless you don’t want to, then that’s also okay.”

You grin as you read your number out to him, and he locks it in. A second later, your phone vibrates.

hey, bucky here. now you’ve got mine too. use it anytime! not just during fancy garden parties.

a/n: i hope a random guy gives me their number too

divider from: i forgor ..

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mischiefinbloom · 5 months ago

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Hiiiii! Could you please do a James x Hufflepuff!reader please? Just something really fluffy, maybe with the reader helping some first years with something, and James being super happy? 😊 Thx!!!

(Also, sorry if it’s kinda off, this is my first time requesting something 😅)

thank you for your request—it means a lot! I hope you enjoy it!

୧ ‧₊˚ something different

₊⊹ summary: your quiet kindness catches james potter’s eye, leading to an unexpected conversation and an offer that might change everything.

₊⊹ pairing: james potter x hufflepuff!reader

₊⊹ warnings: maybe one...? use of y/n, besides that, nothing!

it was a lazy autumn morning, and the great hall was bathed in golden light streaming through the stained glass windows. you were sitting at the hufflepuff table, the smell of toast and coffee mingling with the cheerful chatter of students around you.

lily evans, as always, was beside you, gesturing animatedly as she talked about the upcoming arithmancy class, something that seemed to excite her more than anything else that week.

"I need to finish this reading before class, but the library is unbearably crowded." lily sighed, turning the page of her notebook impatiently.

"we could go earlier, if you want." you suggested, taking a bite of the apple on your plate.

before lily could respond, a noise from the gryffindor table caught her attention. it wasn't uncommon for the marauders to be the center of attention in the hall, but that particular morning, it seemed sirius black was exaggerating even more.

he was laughing loudly, gesturing as he told some absurd story to peter pettigrew, who could hardly contain his tears from laughing so much. remus lupin seemed bored, focused on his coffee, but james potter...

you knew james potter was always noticed. tall, with messy hair and that confident smile, he seemed to radiate energy.

but that morning, he wasn't looking at sirius or peter. he was looking at lily.

"you're aware that james has been staring at you for the past ten minutes, aren't you?" you said, trying to sound casual.

lily rolled her eyes, "he's always staring."

you chuckled softly, but couldn't help but glance at james. he quickly looked away, as if he didn't want to be caught. there was something about him you could never fully understand. james was a force of nature, but he also seemed to carry something more. something he rarely let show.

that afternoon, you and lily went to the library as planned. the place was quieter than usual, which was a pleasant surprise.

while lily got lost in books on ancient runes, you decided to explore the herbology section. you were so focused on a volume about magical plants that you didn't notice when remus lupin appeared beside you.

"this one's good, but the author exaggerates the properties of mistletoe." remus's voice was calm, almost musical.

you looked at him, surprised, "you've read this book?"

remus shrugged, a small smile on his lips.

"I read everything."

it was easy to talk to remus. he had a calm presence that made you feel at ease, and his observations were always interesting. you ended up spending more time talking than studying, exchanging comments about the professors and classes.

"you're different from the rest of them, you know?" you commented at one point, referring to the marauders.

remus laughed, but there was something melancholic in his gaze.

"they're not as bad as they seem once you get to know them, trust me."

before you could respond, sirius appeared.

"moony, are you stealing evans's friend?" he teased, leaning against the shelf beside you.

you felt your face heat up, but remus just rolled his eyes. "cease it, sirius. don’t bother her."

sirius smiled mischievously, but then his gaze fell on you.

"careful, darling. staying too close to us can be dangerous."

there was something in the way he said that that seemed half-serious, but before you could ask what he meant, sirius was already pulling remus away.

it was late afternoon, and the castle corridors were bathed in warm light filtering through the stained glass windows. james potter was alone, something rare. he had left the quidditch practice early, claiming he needed to fetch a book from the library.

as he walked down the corridor, something caught his attention. a first-year student was kneeling on the floor, desperately trying to gather a handful of scattered papers.

she seemed frustrated, almost crying, but no one around seemed to notice her struggle.

then he saw you.

you were coming down the stairs and stopped immediately upon seeing the scene. james stood where he was, curious, watching.

you approached the girl carefully, without haste, and knelt beside her.

"hey, need help?" you asked, your voice soft and gentle.

the girl looked up, hesitant, but eventually nodded.

as you gathered the papers, you organized them carefully, murmuring words of comfort.

"don't say that, everyone makes mistakes sometimes," you said when she apologized.

james stood still, his heart beating faster than he expected. there was something different about you. something he couldn't ignore.

and, for the first time in years, lily evans was not the only person on his mind.

in the days that followed, james couldn't get the scene out of his head—you helping that first-year student as if it were the most natural thing in the world. he didn't know why, but there was something about that gesture that seemed to encapsulate everything he had begun to notice about you.

in transfiguration class, he saw how you bit the tip of your quill while listening attentively to professor mcgonagall's explanations. during breaks, he noticed how you always made sure to divide your time equally among friends, ensuring no one felt left out.

james didn't know how he had never noticed these things before. or maybe he did. but had been so focused on lily for so long that he had never allowed himself to look around.

now, he was looking.

it was a particularly cold night, and you were leaving the library with lily. the hours had slipped by as you reviewed for the upcoming charms exam, and now the corridors were almost deserted.

"I thought my fingers would fall off after writing so much." you said, shrinking against the cold wind that passed through the slightly open windows.

lily smiled, adjusting her scarf around her neck. "don't complain, at least you know you'll ace the exam."

before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, and an unmistakable voice caught your attention.

"evans! thought I'd find you here."

it was james. he had that mischievous smile on his face but seemed less intense than usual. lily sighed, but he ignored her and looked at you.

"hey, hufflepuff," he said, his eyes shining for a moment before turning back to lily. "I need to talk to you about the prefect meeting."

lily hesitated but eventually nodded. "okay, but make it quick, potter."

as they moved away to talk, you leaned against the wall, watching the torches flicker in the darkness of the corridor. a few minutes later, james returned alone, his face slightly flushed from the cold.

"she's always like that with you?" you asked, without thinking.

james chuckled, a low and genuine sound. "always. but I guess I've gotten used to it."

"you're persistent, that's for sure."

he raised an eyebrow, surprised by the comment. "is that good or bad?"

you shrugged, a small smile on your lips. "depends on who's on the other side."

james fell silent for a moment, just watching you. it was as if he was trying to figure something out, as if, for the first time, he didn't quite know what to say.

"you know, you're different," he said finally, his tone softer than usual.

you frowned, confused. "different how?"

"I don't know. just... different. good different."

before you could say anything, lily called for you from the other end of the corridor. you gave james one last look before joining her, leaving him standing there, alone.

that night, as you tried to sleep, the conversation with james wouldn't leave your mind. there was something in the way he spoke to you, something that felt... different.

meanwhile, james was sitting in front of the fireplace in the gryffindor common room, lost in thought. sirius tossed a crumpled piece of parchment into the air, clearly bored.

"what's with you today?" sirius asked, tossing the parchment in james's direction.

"just thinking."

"about who?" remus asked, raising an eyebrow.

james hesitated for a moment before answering. "y/n."

the silence that followed was brief but loaded.

"y/n?" sirius repeated, surprised. "no offense, she's great, beautiful too, but... she's not evans."

james sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know. and that's what's confusing me."

remus smiled but didn't say anything, leaving james lost in his own thoughts.

in the following week, james began to approach you more, subtly but noticeably. he asked questions about classes, helped you carry your books when he saw you were overloaded, and even started showing up in the library more often.

at first, you thought it was a coincidence, but soon you realized it wasn't. and, to your surprise, you didn't mind.

one afternoon, as you walked together through the gardens, james looked at you with a smile that seemed to carry more meaning than he was willing to admit.

"you know... these days, you’ve been the brightest moment for me without even realizing it." he said, straightforwardly, a faint flush of color warmed his cheeks.

you stopped, surprised, "what?"

"I'm serious. I... I don't know how to explain it, but... you make things seem easier."

there was something in his sincerity that made your heart beat faster.

"james... I..." you began, but he interrupted you, gently holding your hand.

"I know we have our differences, but... how about we go out tomorrow night? just the two of us. we can have dinner in hogsmeade, maybe. what do you think?"

you looked at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. you never imagined that james potter, the mischievous and sweet boy, would make such an intimate invitation, specially to you.

"I'd love to," you replied, smiling shyly.

he smiled back, squeezing your hand.

"then it's a date. tomorrow night, at seven o'clock, at the main entrance. don't be late."

you laughed, shaking your head.

"I'm not the one who's late here, potter."

"true," he agreed, "but I'll wait for you anyway. I always will."

and so, with a smile on your lips and your heart racing, you said goodbye to him, eager for what the next night would bring.

#james potter #james potter x reader #marauders #harry potter

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