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mytherapyisreading14 · 25 days ago

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can you write a reader x professor!spencerreid? Reader is a Student & they meet the night before classes start & immediately hit it off😏 iykyk

kinda like aria and ezra from pretty little liars but with much more spice🌶

And the storyline kinda follows them through the semester, pls make it a bit angsty 🤏 BUT with happy ending 🥺🙏

Unexpected Surprise

Summary: You find out that the man you hooked up with last night is your new Professor.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Category: Smut (18+ MDNI)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, sexual harassment, fake dating, age gap, kissing, dirty talk, use of pet names (baby etc.), praise kink, choking, fingering, oral sex (f & m), orgasm denial, spanking, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (don’t do that), dom!spencer (If I missed any warnings, please tell me)

Word Count: 5,8k

Author’s Note: Hey, I hope you like the way it turned out. I was also planning to write a story where they meet before and then find out that he’s her Professor, so your Request came in just in the right time :)

The club is loud, the bass booms through the room and the lights flicker in time with the music. You're at the bar, sipping your drink as you take a little break from dancing. The sweat clings to your skin and you just need a moment for yourself. The air is heavy, mixed with alcohol and perfume and you consider going out to get some fresh air.

Suddenly you feel someone standing next to you. You smell the strong alcohol on his breath before you even see him. The warmth of his body is already reaching you across the room, and you have to lower your gaze to keep him from seeing you rolling your eyes. You know what’s about to happen. You feel his presence, and it's uncomfortable as he moves even closer to you.

“Babe, you look so hot. Do you want to spend the night with me?” The words come out of his mouth sharp and dirty, and he puts an arm around you as if he had already won you. An unpleasant feeling spreads through you and you try to avoid it, turning your body away from him. “No, not interested,“ you say, calmer that you‘re feeling right now.

But he doesn't let go, strokes your back, moves even closer to you and his voice becomes more urgent. “Come on, I can help you relax a little bit." It happens so quickly, you barely have enough time to breathe when you feel a new presence behind you. You turn to the side and see a man standing in front of you. His eyes are hazel brown and his long, curly hair falls over his forehead. His posture is confident, almost a bit protective.

“Let her go. She said no.” His voice is deep and calm, a contrast to the urgent tone of the man at your side. The guy next to you stares at the new man now looming in front of him. You can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s scared. You can practically see how small and insecure he feels as he moves away from you. He mutters something that sounds like an insulting comment, but he quickly turns around and disappears into the crowd again. You breath out relived.

For a moment everything remains silent, only the distant noise of the music can be heard. You look at the man who just saved you. His big brown eyes meet yours, and for a moment everything else around you disappears. He looks incredibly good. Then, realizing he got you out of the awkward situation, you send him a grateful smile.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice softer now. “Can I buy you a drink?” It somehow feels right to make this gesture to show your gratitude. He nods, a small, almost shy smile crossing his lips, and you can't help but notice how charming he seems. “Gladly,” he replies. You turn to the bartender and order two drinks as he sits down on a bar stool next to you.

You hand him the drink and introduce yourself. It’s really hard to stop staring into his beautiful brown eyes. “I’m Spencer. I’m really sorry that this asshole bothered you,” he says. You shrug unimpressed. “Sad truth is, I’m used to it. At least he backed off quickly now, thanks to you,” you say and smile. The night suddenly feels less chaotic as you continue talking to your unexpected savior.

The loud music in the background seems to fade more and more, as if you are immersed in your own little world. The conversation with him feels light and relaxed, almost like you've known each other forever. You've been talking about books for a while now, the two of you found out that you both love reading.

“And what was the last book you read?” you ask with an interested smile as you look at him. Spencer smiles and leans back a little, his gaze becoming thoughtful. “The last book I read was Bare Reflections.”

You take a sip of your drink and grin when you hear the title. “Sounds… not exactly like what I expected from you.” The alcohol creeps into your head and makes you a little braver than usual, so you decide to tease him, “I didn’t think you’d read a book like that. You seem far too decent for that.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow, and for a moment you're not sure if he's irritated or amused. Then he folds his arms over his chest, his posture becoming a little stiffer. "I had to read it for a case we were working on," he says, his voice still calm but now also slightly challenging.

“And what impression do you have of me? Do you think that I might not have interests in that direction? That I'm not able to take control in situations?“ A smile spreads across your face as you feel the tension in the air shift. You can't help but grin. It's a mix of amusement and a little challenge.

“Well, at least not like that,” you reply, looking at him cheekily. “Feel free to convince me otherwise.” And you wink at him, the words sound almost like a game. You see his pupils dilate as he looks at you. A little spark jumps between you. He pauses for a moment, as if considering how to react.

Then his posture changes, he moves a little closer, leans forward and indicates with his hand that you should lean a little towards him. You do, curious to see what comes next. As you lean closer to him, you feel his breath on your skin, and he whispers to you in a voice so deep and quiet that it gets right under your skin. “Let me convince you otherwise.”

Your alarm goes off way too early, but you just turn to the side and turn it off. You squint against the bright sunlight shining through the blinds. The last bit of sleep still clings to you as you slowly push yourself up and put your head in your hands. It takes a moment but then the memories of last night kick in. Spencer. The thought of him brings a smile to your lips. Last night was perfect. He was good. Very good actually. The best you've ever had. Luckily you still remember everything.

His lips against yours, his tongue inside your mouth. His body as he pushed you against the wall. His big, rough hands that squeezed your breasts, wrapped so perfectly around your throat and reached all the spots inside you that you never could. The way he manhandled you so perfectly, rough but somehow also gentle and caring in the right moments. The way he fucked you and used you for his own pleasure, making you a moaning mess. He ruined you for every other man.

But now he is no longer here. You glance at the other side of the bed, it's empty. No trace of him. Just silence. He left when you were still asleep. A little bit of disappointment stirs within you. You were hoping maybe he would stay after all. Maybe have a coffee with you, or just… be there.

The sex was good but there was more. You really enjoyed talking to him. But then again, it was only a one night stand. Today it's the first day at university anyway, it's better to leave early in order to be there on time. If he had stayed here longer you certainly wouldn't have come on time. With a sigh, you push the covers back and swing your legs out of bed.

The floor is cold. You take a look at your phone and check the time. It’s 10:45 a.m. Your first lecture is in just over an hour. You quickly put on a light jacket and then, half asleep, you make your way to the bathroom. You are still tired but the feeling from last night remains. At least this day is off to a semi good start.

You pack your bag, throw in everything you need, your iPad, headphones, lip gloss, some chewing gum and all the other stuff. You rush out of the apartment, bag on your shoulder and keys in hand. You get on the bus that takes you to university and the fresh morning wind blows in your face. It's the first day. You can't wait to see what it brings.

You sit at the front of the lecture hall, the place is comfortable, the view of the board is perfect. Your iPad is in front of you and you're doodling on it out of boredom. The conversations of the other students still chatting sound like a distant murmur to your ears. You are excited and nervous. The first day of the new semester, the first lecture.

The room is slowly filling up and the last students are still finding their place. It‘s almost 12 o'clock and you’re still waiting for your friend Finn to arrive. He slept in and you told him you’re going to safe him a seat. You hear the lecture hall doors open, but you hardly notice it. You are lost in your thoughts, thinking about how hard it will be to concentrate on the lesson when Spencer is the only thing on your mind right now.

Then, suddenly, everything becomes quiet. All the conversations around you fall silent immediately. It's like someone flipped a switch. You look up, not sure why, and then you see him. Your new Professor. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet his. Spencer. He is standing at the entrance to the lecture hall. For a moment time stops.

The Spencer you had in your bed last night, the Spencer who gave you orgasm after orgasm, the Spencer who made you scream his name is now suddenly your professor. A look of confusion crosses his face, but then he quickly catches himself, puts on his serious expression, and turns away as if he's trying to ignore you.

The tension is thick in the air, but Spencer makes no move to pay attention to you. You bite your lip, anger rising inside you. It hurts. You never thought he would just dismiss you so coldly. You try to concentrate on the lecture, but Spencer, now Professor Reid, brings back memories of that night. And you wonder how he manages to act like there's nothing between you.

Nothing happens throughout the entire lecture. No look. Not a single word. You fight your anger as he explains the first topic and requirements for the exams in a calm voice, but you don't hear anything. Your thoughts only revolve around what happened earlier. Why is he completely ignoring you? Does he think you’re not going to keep this a secret?

Finally, after what feels like forever, the lecture is over. The room slowly empties and you remain seated in your row while the other students leave the lecture hall. Your pulse is racing, but you need to know what's going on between you now. You want to tell him that he doesn’t have to worry about you spilling this secret. You can't just go home and let it go now.

You get up, pack up your things and walk towards Spencer. You have the feeling that every step you take now echoes throughout the room. "Spencer… I mean, Professor Reid, can we talk?" you call but before you even get to the front he has already packed all his things and leaves the room without paying any attention to you.

You stop, angry, hurt, disappointed. The lump in your throat keeps getting bigger. You feel empty, like the ground has been pulled out from under you. What is he thinking? Why is he acting like this now? Why can't you just clarify the problem? With one last look at the door, you leave the lecture hall and know that this is far from over.

The next few weeks are not different. He avoids you, ignores you completely and you hope your grades won't be negatively affected, but you're willing to take him on if it comes to that. You're on your way to your next lecture when suddenly someone calls you. You turn around and see Finn. You met him during your first semester and have been friends ever since.

Finn sprints a few steps until he is next to you and holds out your headphones. “You forgot your headphones in the library earlier,” he says. “Oh, thanks! I already looked for them, I thought I just forgot them at home again.” You take them out of his hands and quickly put them in your bag.

As you stroll through the hallway together, you suddenly hear Spencer's voice and automatically turn around. You see him holding a coffee and talking to another student. She laughs and you can clearly see her getting closer to him, flirting and throwing herself at him. You immediately feel panic rising within you.

Every girl you knew has a crush on him. You can’t blame them, he’s attractive after all, but you can’t help but feel jealous. He ignores you but lets other students hit on him. This is too much. Why does he play this game with you like nothing happened while he behaves like this towards others?

Suddenly he turns around and meets your eyes. It's the first time that your eyes cross again since he came in on the first day. You can see a fleeting grin on his face before he turns away again. He leans down to the student who is showing him her notes, and you can see her leaning even closer towards him. The knot in your stomach tightens.

Finn follows your gaze and raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued and with a look that almost seems too amused, he asks, “Are you okay? You look… hurt?” You shake your head. “I’m fine,” you say, even though you feel the fear bubbling inside you. You’re afraid he found someone better than you. "Let's go."

You enter the lecture hall together but you can't concentrate. Spencer is in your head the whole time, and the more you think about the scene, the angrier you get. And then suddenly an idea comes to you. A plan. A very good plan. Maybe you can play this game too and make him jealous, but on your terms.

After the lecture, you stay with Finn and wait until most of the other students have left the room. You look around once to make sure no one is listening before you whisper, “I need your help. But you have to promise me you won’t ask any questions.” Finn looks at you curiously. “Okay, what’s this about?”

You sigh and look him straight in the eyes. “I wanted to ask you if it would be okay with you if you helped me make someone jealous. Pretend you’re interested in me and dating me,” you explain to him.

Finn grins, a slight smile spreading across his face. “Of course I can do that.” Then he tilts his head slightly. “But I do have one question. Does this whole thing have something to do with Professor Reid? I can tell something happened between you,” he asks with an amused look.

You immediately blush and try not to get caught. “Shh, keep quiet,” you whisper, looking around nervously. “And I said no questions. So, are you in or not?” Finn laughs, shakes his head and raises his hands as if to apologize. “Okay, okay, I understand. Sure, I can help you.” You breathe out a sigh of relief and grin at him. "Thanks!"

A few days later you can finally carry out your plan. Finn sits down next to you in the lecture hall and as soon as Spencer enters the room, Finn leans closer to you and casually puts an arm around the chair next to you. Then he whispers in your ear. "I'm curious to see if that works."

Even though you said he shouldn't ask any questions, you told him what happened between you and Spencer. You know you can trust him and he would find out sooner or later anyway because he plays along with this whole thing.

You giggle softly. "I really hope so. Thank you for taking part in all of this,” you say quietly but you get interrupted immediately. "If you think you need to talk while I'm teaching, you can leave straight away. I expect everyone to be quiet,” Spencer says and when you look up you can see his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. You lean a little further away from Finn and can't help but smile.

That went faster than expected. You notice that he is no longer ignoring you. His eyes keep wandering over to you to see what you are doing, if Finn is getting closer to you. The atmosphere is not as relaxed as it used to be, everyone can tell the he is not in a good mood today.

When the lecture is over you pack your things and as you leave the room Finn puts an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. You can feel Spencer’s gaze following you and you're annoyed that you didn't think of making him jealous sooner. But it doesn’t matter now, you’re happy your plan works.

Unfortunately you weren't able to carry out your plan any further this week. Spencer has been missing the rest of the week and you assume he is busy working on a case with the team. It felt like the week wasn't going to end at all and when you go to the library with Finn on Monday morning, you hope that Spencer is coming back now.

You sit down at the table together with a coffee and start writing on your essays, using the free time to get ahead with it. You're completely focused on your work until Finn suddenly bumps into you with his leg under the table. You look up confused before he places a hand on your thigh and leans forward. He whispers in your ear "Your favorite professor is back.”

You nod and lean in closer too, you don't want to look in Spencer’s direction so that he thinks you haven't noticed him. “Is it okay if we kiss?” you ask and Finn nods. You try to ignore Spencer as much as he ignored you. But you can still feel his gaze fixed on you.

Finn leans forward and places a quick, gentle kiss on your lips. When he leans back he can see Spencer’s angry look. "He didn't look happy with it,“ he says and you laugh. "Then I did everything right. I hope that this was not too much. I'm sorry then." You say but he just waves it off. "It's all good, I agreed to the whole thing. I just hope that it works out for you in the end,” he says and winks at you.

The two of you stay a little longer and continue learning and working on your essays but after a while you decide to leave. You turn to Finn. “I'll leave now. I can't concentrate anymore anyway. And thanks for helping me out again.” You say, packing up your things. "No problem. I'll stay a little longer and use the time I’ve left. I'll see you tomorrow then,” he says and you nod. "See you tomorrow.”

It feels like a small victory as you leave the library. Not only have you made progress with your learning, but you have also been able to continue putting your plan into action. If you and Finn keep it up, Spencer will definitely talk to you about it soon.

Now you just want to listen to music and get rid of the remaining tension and you look for your headphones in your bag again. They must be somewhere between the notes and other things, you're sure you packed them this time. “Where the fuck are they?” you mutter under your breath and continue digging in your bag.

But then you suddenly feel a movement in front of you. You look up and freeze. There he stands. Spencer. Arms crossed, eyes sternly fixed on you. You immediately tear your eyes away from his and want to walk past him without saying a word, but he notices what you're up to. He's getting in your way.

“What do you want now?” You try to keep your voice calm, but inside your heart is already beating a little faster. The look he gives you is hard, almost annoyed.

“You will come with me,” he says. You cross your arms over your chest and looking at him as if you are really annoyed. "What's that supposed to mean? I have to go home.”

He shakes his head. “You’re coming with me now. We need to talk.” You roll your eyes. "Oh, do we now? And what exactly do you want to talk about, Professor?” Your voice sounds sharper than you planned. “You’ve just been ignoring me for the last few weeks. Do you even know my name anymore?” you ask him. “Why should I have forgotten your name?” he asks and raises an eyebrow.

“Because you‘ve been ignoring me since our first day here! I understand, I'm your student now, but I -“ you start but he interrupts you. You see his face harden, his expression becoming even more serious. “Not here. Come with me, now.” You feel a mixture of anger and nervousness building up inside you. You just want to brush him off, but somehow you also feel like challenging him.

“Make me,” you say, your voice challenging, almost mocking. You look him straight in the eyes, watching what he'll do next. He barely blinks, glancing quickly down the hall as if to make sure no one sees you. Then he suddenly grabs your arm. It‘s not a gentle hold, he grabs you firmly, dragging you behind him without another word.

“You should really stop messing with me.“ He sounds angry. “I like trouble,” you say with a smirk and try to pull away. But you feel his hand holding you tight. One last thought comes to you before you're dragged down the hallway. What the hell does he actually want from you now?

A few minutes later you are standing in front of his office and he unlocks the door. You go in and look around. It's the first time you're here, you never went to his office hours. There are a lot of books lying around and you take a look at the titles. Spencer, on the other hand, locks the door behind you. You're about to reach for a book, but he interrupts you.

“I want to talk to you. Sit down,” he says and points to the chair on the opposite side of the table. You think about it for a moment, but decide against it. Instead you stay in front of his table with your arms crossed. You want to get back at him for treating you like that, even if it's hard because you want nothing more than for him to kiss and touch you again.

“Oh now, after weeks, you want to talk. In case you haven't noticed, Professor, I've been wanting to talk for a long time. You were the one who disappeared straight away when I approached you,” you say and roll your eyes again. You are curious to see how long he will let you continue like this before he snaps.

He stands up and walks towards you in long, slow steps. When he stands in front of you he lifts your chin. He finally touches you again you feel a shiver run down your spine. His pupils are dark and you can see the lust in them you already saw the night you first met.

“Do you want to know why I didn’t talk to you, baby?” he asks and you can’t help yourself and nod. You need to know what he is thinking. He leans down and his mouth is directly against your ear. Being this close to him again turns you on immensely.

“All I could think about after this night was you - your gorgeous lips wrapped around my cock, your pretty pussy taking me so well and your sweet moans when I made you come. It was a shame that I couldn't stay longer in the morning to fuck you again. You've been on my mind the whole time after that night. And then I come in, for work, and you're sitting there. All I wanted was to bend you over my table and fuck you again,” he says before he leans back to look into your eyes again.

“But I was overwhelmed by the whole situation. It was my first day as a professor and I didn't want to risk getting fired. That's why I avoided you. I saw how much it bothered you and I have to admit, I liked seeing you so jealous when I was talking to other students, to see that I have this effect on you.” His face suddenly hardens again. “Until you thought you had to play this game with me too and make me jealous with your friend. I knew it from the beginning.”

You grin and decide to continue playing with him. “Oh, that doesn’t really matter to me. It still worked, didn’t it?” you say and then he finally snaps. He takes a step towards you and puts a hand around your throat, pulling you closer to him. "You've taken it too far. He kissed you, touched you, held you in his arms." His grip tightens, but you realise there is some hesitation, he’s still careful because he doesn’t want to hurt you.

“I can do whatever I want, professor. I am not your property,” you breath out and give him a challenging look. “No? You will be soon.“ He lets go of your throat, turns you around and bends you over his desk. “Actions have consequences and you will now see what yours have.” His words send a shiver down your spine and you shutter in excitement.

He notices and chuckles before he flips your skirt over and exposes your underwear. His hands roam over your ass, squeezing it before he pulls back and suddenly his hand comes down onto your ass. He just spanked you. You can feel a stinging sensation and it turns you on even more. “I’m going to remind you who you belong to. You’re going to count and take your punishment like a good girl, do you understand?” he asks.

You nod and he pulls you back by your hair. “Words, baby,” he says. “Yes, I - I understand.” He lets go of your hair and his hand goes back to your ass, grazing the spot he just spanked before and without a warning his hand comes down on the other side. You whimper and begin to count. “One.” His hand rubs the spot almost soothingly before he continues. You are getting wetter with each strike.

“You’re enjoying this. I can see how wet you are. I bet you missed me in the last few weeks, am I right?” he asks. “I did,” you admit before his hand comes down again. “Two,” you continue to count. “Tell me, did you touch yourself at night, thinking about me? How good I fucked you? How I made you come again and again, on my tongue and on my cock?”

He leans down to whisper in your ear again. “Because I did. I stroked myself at night, wishing it was your hand, your lips or your pussy wrapped around my cock. I couldn’t wait to finally have you again.” He admits before his hand comes down on your ass again. “Three. Yes, I - I did. I couldn’t stop thinking about you either,” you say and he chuckles.

“Just like I thought,” he says before he continues with his punishment. He turns your ass red and decides after ten strikes that you have enough. “I’m proud of you baby. You took it like the good girl we both know you are. You just need someone that discipline you sometimes. Isn’t that right?” he asks. “Thank you. That’s… that’s right Sir.”

Spencer grins and turns you around, finally pressing his lips against yours again. He taste likes coffee, toothpaste and cinnamon. It’s addictive. His tongue explores your mouth and you moan against him, pressing your body against his, roaming you hands over his chest. You remember every spot and every muscle like it was yesterday. It’s no surprise though because you had to think back to the night you spent together every evening.

Spencer starts kissing down your neck, making sure to leave a hickey there, just like he did the first time he fucked you. Your hands run through his soft hair, pressing him closer to you and when you give them a thug he growls. “Please, touch me. I need you,” you say, desperate for more. “Eager, aren’t we?” His hand slides between your legs and up your thigh.

When he finds your soaked panties he chuckles. “You’re soaked, baby. All this, just for me. Do you want me to help you out? Make you come on my mouth or my fingers again?” he asks and you nod before you breath out “Both please.” He laughs. “You really need me that badly? Then beg for it,” he says with an amused look on his face.

He’s clearly enjoying this. You don't care if you sound pathetic, you listen straight away to what he asked you to. “Please, I want you to make me come. Please fuck me with your fingers. Eat me out. I need you,” you beg. “Good girl,” he praises before he reaches for your panties and slides them down your legs.

As soon as you step out of them he grabs them and puts them in his pocket. Then he places you on his desk, presses your back down and leans forward to lick a stripe up your pussy. You moan and immediately reach for his hair again, pressing him closer to you. “Please, more,” you moan. His thumb teases your clit before he pushes two fingers into you.

Your eyes roll back and you bite down on your lip to keep quiet, which is really hard because he’s just too good. You feel everything, his tongue, his lips and the stubbles of his facial hair as he eats you out like a man starved. The combination of his tongue and fingers is overwhelming. You’re losing yourself in the pleasure quickly, feeling how your climax approaches.

Spencer however notices too and pulls back, his lips glistening with your arousal. “I didn’t give you permission to come,” he says and you whine. He just laughs quietly before pushing his fingers in your mouth. “Clean them,” he says and you obey. He watches you very closely and you decide to tease him more, the tip of your tongue strokes his fingertips. “Fuck me Sir, please,” you say and look straight into his eyes.

You can see the lust in them and he wastes no time and reaches for his belt, pulling his cock out. He strokes himself a few times and you can’t keep your eyes off him. “You like watching me, don’t you? Do you want to watch while I make myself come and leave you with nothing?” he asks and you immediately shake your head. “No, I need you.”

“Didn’t expect anything else from my little slut,” he says and slides his cock through your folds. You wrap your legs around him and he finally pushes in. You moan and he clasps a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. “Shh, be quiet for now. I’m gonna make you scream my name tonight, but not here.” Your eyes widen. So this is not going to be the last time he fucks you.

You feel the relief, but you don't have time to think further about his words because he starts to pound into you. You missed this feeling so much and get lost in the pleasure. His hand wraps around your throat again, squeezing it, just the way you told him you like it. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good. I missed this. I couldn’t stop thinking about you after that night. And now I finally have you again. You’re all mine. Say it.”

“I’m - I’m yours. Only yours,” you say and pull him in for a kiss. You can still taste yourself on his lips. When he pulls back he slides out of you, flipping you over and bending you over his desk again. A few seconds later he’s already back into you, fucking you from behind. He slaps your ass again and you inhale sharply. It stings more than before now, you’re sensitive after the spanking.

He lets you forget about the pain though when he keeps hitting your g-spot over and over again. The new angle makes you see stars. “God, you’re perfect. So thight and wet. I could fuck you all night,” he says while his fingers keep digging deep into your hips, holding you thight. “You should see yourself. So pretty with your ass spanked red and bent over my desk, taking my cock like a good girl.”

You can feel that you’re slowly losing control. You just want to come, especially after he denied you earlier. “Can I - can I come now please?“ you whisper while he keeps thrusting into you. “I can’t hear you. Ask again,” he says and you can tell that he’s teasing you. “Can I come?” you ask again, louder this time. “Ask nicely, baby,” he says, driving you crazy. “I want to come, can I - can I please come?” you ask again, making sure to speak loud enough this time.

“No,” he simply says, pulling out of you and pushing you on your knees. “Open,” he says and you obey, taking his cock into your mouth. He pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail and fucks your throat. You can feel his cock twitch and a few seconds later he comes inside your mouth. You swallow everything and look up to him, begging him with your eyes to finally let you come now.

He pulls you up and lifts your chin with his hand before kissing you again. “You did so good, baby. But you have to wait until we’re home. Because when I make you come again, I want to hear you scream my name. Can you do that for me?” You clench your legs together in excitement. “Yes. But can we leave right away then?” you ask and he laughs. “Of course baby.” He helps you collect all your things before the two of you sneak out of his office and through the hallways to his car to drive home.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #professor reid #professor x student #post prison reid

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nsharks · 17 days ago

Text

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirty-four —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 4.5k tags: death. blood and gore. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. enemies to lovers. harm to a child. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

The rattle of vials cuts through the quiet sobbing as you raid the cabinet, stuffing a backpack with painkillers and wound care.

"We had antibiotics on us. Where are they?"

From the corner of the room, the response breaks apart. "I don't... I don't know about any... This is all we have."

You drop the backpack in favor of the gun at your waist, and direct it at her. "Don't lie to me."

"I-I'm not! I don't know where they are!"

A twist in your gut says she's honest. "Is there any alcohol?" you press with a curl at your lips.

"There's... some... under there."

You lower the gun and move to the sink, uncorking a half-filled bottle that reeks of absinthe. It fits snugly into the backpack. A nod to Nereida. She lowers her own gun from the young woman’s temple. Straps over your shoulders, you step into the smoke-tinged air, leaving the woman behind, when her accented voice chokes out: "You have taken... everything from us."

You stand in the doorway, watching a piece of ash fall on the scuffed leather of your shoe, then glance over your shoulder. "There is still some medicine left in there. Take what you can, get the other women, and leave. This place could be teeming with Greys soon with all the blood spilt. Travel north. We're going south." Her glossy eyes drift up from her hands. Your gaze hardens. "We will kill you if we see you. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she whispers.

You look away. "Salome is in the cell. Alive."

The flames lick at the chapel’s frame as you return to the others. The stone walls have blackened, the door swallowed in fire, windows shattered. The acrid stench of scorched wood and charred flesh burns your nose. The last survivors—the few men left after Price and Kyle cleared the barn—had been shoved inside with the Grey.

You need to get out of here—away from the stench of blood. Clean water is urgent. A safe place to treat everyone's wounds, even more so, though the missing antibiotics linger in the back of your mind. Adrenaline wearing off, you move quickly, pausing only to hastily dress Blue's feet and Ghost's back with medical cloth from the cabinet before continuing down the main road. While everyone yields a backpack and gun, Ghost carries Blue to his chest. He hasn't once let her go.

The flames still flicker behind you when his grip falters. He stops to adjust her weight, and you touch his elbow, speaking low. "Let Price or Kyle carry her."

"I've got it."

You don’t press, though the gnawing concern remains. How much blood has he lost? You can only hope it's clotted enough to hold a bit longer.

The only words Price manages are instructions—what to watch for to indicate freshwater. Downward slopes, converging animal tracks. You’re nowhere near as injured as the others, yet your thighs shake, your vision blurs, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut to regain focus. You still flinch at every sound, ready for blood.

An hour out, the sun hangs heavy. Dense vegetation and a small cliffside offer promise. Carefully, you help each other down. Ghost finally relents, letting Blue cling onto Price’s shoulders so he can manage rappelling down the rocks. You stay close without thinking, your hand ghosting over his bicep when he wavers.

Then you smell it. Water.

Relief nearly buckles your knees.

A narrow creek winds between boulders, tucked beneath towering cypresses.

Everyone washes off the blood, dulling the stench. A fire will be needed to clean it for the wounds. As you rake water through your hair, your gaze drifts upstream—where cypresses give way to ripened plum trees, bordering what seems like a property. Price sees it too. He’s already shouldering his backpack, moving to check it out.

The gown pools at your ankles, dipping into the shallow water as you cross. The property is silent, save for the rhythmic tapping of a woodpecker. You tighten your grip on the gun, scanning the unkempt garden and overgrown path leading to the estate—a summer home fit for a family or, as you soon realize, two wealthy old fucks. Their skeletons are all that remain inside, draped in dust like the furniture around them.

Price lowers the rifle to his side and nods in approval. "This will do."

If you could, you’d strip off the stained gown and shut your eyes. Instead, you follow Ghost as he kicks open doors—nothing but a bathroom and parlor. On the second floor, the first door to meet his boot reveals a bedroom. You shake the dust from the quilt, and he carefully lays Blue down. You're already sifting through the backpack.

Ghost kneels to take her feet. He fumbles with the cloth, exhaustion stealing motor function. You help, unveiling the jagged cuts edged with dirt. Ghost grits, "They did this?"

"I did," she whispers. "I hoped you'd find me... and the Greys... they got distracted by my shoes."

Her words linger as you dab alcohol onto a strip of cloth. "This will hurt," you whisper, biting your cheek.

Ghost grips her ankle to keep it still and takes her hand, offering something to squeeze. At first touch, her nails claw at his wrist. Her lips press tightly together to muffle a small sound that dies in her throat, and then she falls silent. Her eyes flutter shut, reopening only to release a lone tear when you finish with both, then wrap them again.

"Your arms," you say, reaching for them. One is already bandaged—must've been done by them. The other is freshly cut. When you try to look at it, she recoils, inhaling sharply.

"They did this one, didn't they?" he asks.

A slight nod of her chin.

Anger leeches from Ghost's skin.

He exhales sharply through flared nostrils, then gently takes her wrist, pressing a kiss to the skin just before the cut begins.

"Let Twix clean it, baby."

Her fist clenches before she offers you her arm. More tears cut a trail down to her lips.

"There. Let's get you something else to wear," you breathe out, stuffing the cork back in once it's over.

What you find in the closet is at least better than the bloodied dress she was supposed to die in—a large flannel shirt that smells like old man. Blue accepts it, but stares at the shirt in her hands for a long moment before asking Ghost to look away. He does, and you help her, keeping your eyes on hers while undressing her.

You turn to Ghost. "Your turn," you whisper.

Lowering to the bed is a great effort, one you have to steady with a hand under his armpit. As gently as possible, you peel the cloth from his back. Seeing his wounds before did nothing to prepare you for this—up close, in the unforgiving sunlight. Deep, inflamed gashes ooze fresh blood at the disruption. The stench of festering flesh makes it hard to focus as you murmur for Blue to touch his hair, distract him for the first dab of alcohol.

Where Blue was able to silence herself, he cannot. Not when it’s this bad. The terrible, wrecked groan and the violent jerk of his body make you want to disappear—to run and let someone else do this to him. But you know you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t trust anyone else to. So you steady the tremble in your fingers and continue, the room heavy with his pain. It finds its way to your back, as though someone behind you is holding a whip. The phantom pain sinks into your skin with each of his groans, forcing you to push it away to steady your hand as you work.

Blue twists her fingers in his hair, whispering in his ear. "It's almost over, dad."

By the time the wounds are cleaned, redness remains, offering little reassurance. Over a day's worth of sweat and bacteria isn't something you can simply undo. You'll need to keep an eye on them for infection. You sift through the vials and push two painkillers to his lips, helping him sit up to swallow them. As you’re about to help him back down, he grabs onto your wrist, a pulse of pain pulling your gaze to where you slit your own vein. The linen strip is soaked through. Ghost silently unties it and reaches for the alcohol at the bedside table.

"They did that?" Blue questions from behind him.

"I did."

The pain sears as he cleans it, though it’s nothing compared to his.

When he lays back on his stomach, there’s no fighting the heaviness of his eyelids. Blue curls up beside him, wincing. You get her two painkillers as well.

"Is he going to be alright?" she asks quietly.

You pull the light quilt over her body. "His body just needs to rest. So does yours."

"That's not an answer, Twix."

The way she calls you out makes your face fall. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't know."

There is a pause of silence before she sighs audibly, arms falling flat at her sides and her gaze finding the ceiling. "I don't think I can sleep."

Your chest tightens at the thought of what she must be thinking of, what she must have seen when you weren't with her. The wounds you can't wrap up. You dig for one of the sedatives: lorazepam. "Here."

It takes a while for it to take effect.

"You're safe," you whisper to her, over and over, tucking her hair behind her ear until you feel the subtle shift in her muscles as they slowly loosen from their panicked tension. When sleep finally comforts her, a shift in the air causes you to leap up.

"It's me," Nereida whispers, poking in her head. "The others are sleeping, too."

Right. The others. "They're alright?"

"Just a few fractured ribs."

"Someone needs to keep watch."

"I'll do it." Seeing the protest twist on your face, she adds, "You haven't slept in days."

She's right. It was impossible to sleep in that cell outside of being drugged.

You give in. "Patrol the whole property if you can. And keep track of the air. The flowers here should help mask our scent, but—"

"I've got it, Twix."

The fatigue truly hits when she leaves. You barely have enough fight in you left to peel off the stupid dress and raise another flannel shirt from the closet over your head, the hem resting above your knees. There is a chair in the room—that's where you sink down, knees tucked to your chest. At first when you close your eyes, the world is loud and red. Then, it quiets to black.

A dove call announces morning, and you jolt awake to fresh light from the window.

You fell asleep.

They've already killed her.

You didn't get there in time—

Your gaze lands on the small body lying in the bed beside a much larger one, and the panic escapes through a shaky breath. You inhale and exhale to calm your heart rate before uncurling from the chair to touch Blue's soft cheek. The skin is cool. You move to her father next. Palm to his forehead. Hot, dry skin snaps your touch away as if burning you.

"Fucking shit," chokes out of you, along with a fresh wave of urgency. Blue stirs in her sleep. You clamp a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself and whirl out of the room. A fever: you need water. If you hadn't slept so long, you could've boiled some sooner. With the recovered energy, you race outside in the chilled morning air.

Nereida sits up from the porch.

"Good morning. You're the first one up. I haven't seen—"

"He is burning up," you seethe. "You should've waken me. I slept all through the night!"

Her eyes widen. "I didn't—"

You push past her. "I'm getting water."

She lightly touches your elbow. "I already got some from the creek. I boiled it over the fireplace." She rushes to show you the full metal pot in the kitchen.

You don't pause to say thank you, hoisting the water upstairs to urgently wet a cloth and place it over his forehead. His lashes flutter, once, then twice, before fully opening.

"You have a fever," you exhale, swallowing hard. "I need you to drink a little."

He sits up to swallow a handful of the water from your palm, faint bobs of his throat, and you feel just how dry his lips are. His voice emerges low. "Did they have anything for it?"

"I couldn't find the antibiotics," you bitterly admit, swiping a thumb over the faint freckle on his temple, as if maybe, the sip of water has already changed the temperature. It hasn't. A growl pushes under your breath. "The bitch probably lied to me and took them. We'll need to experiment a bit for now."

"Sounds promising," he manages through his teeth. He glances down at his daughter. "She's alright?"

"She's okay, not warm." You inhale sharply. "Lay down. Let me look at it again."

When he does, you gently remove the bandages and are met with yellow-green pus. The sound that fills your throat, caught between helplessness and disgust, has him popping an eye open to look back at you over his shoulder. "Sorry, it's just..." Another explicative leaves your lips, and you have to bite your cheek hard to keep from vomiting at the sight and smell. Blue is awake now, sitting up against the pillow; she need only glance over once for her face to twist in concern.

"It's bad, isn't it?" She covers her mouth.

"I need to drain it," is what you say. Luckily, it's already oozing, saving the need to puncture the wounds open. You wet another cloth and carefully press at the swollen ridge of the first laceration, making him groan through his teeth as pus begins to run down his sides. Blue has one hand back in his hair, and uses another wet cloth to collect the pus. You keep pressing, draining each irregular wound, having to remind yourself the rotten smell being released is for the better.

After what feels like hours, it's mostly cleared. Only a bit of swelling remains, revealing just how deeply the skin was shredded, as if slashed through repeatedly in the same spots.

"How come you were hurt more than the others?" Blue asks him the question you've been mulling over since the moment you found him.

"I was their favorite," he mumbles lowly. "The most handsome."

Your brows lower.

"It's not funny," she presses, nails twisting in his hair, teeth grinding. "It's infected. You could fucking die."

"I won't," he says to her, but the silent, heavy glance you exchange with him acknowledges the understanding that he very well could, deepening the harsh pit in your stomach. "We have a nurse here."

"An unlicensed one." You finish securing a new layer of cloth and lean back. "And one without real medicine." Realizing you are supposed to be reassuring her, you hide the way your nails pick each other and add, "But draining all that pus will help. Eating will help even more," you look at Blue, "For you, too."

Blue and you share a meal of wild cucumbers, strawberries, and two small field mice you catch by the creek, swiftly snapping their necks before skinning them. For Ghost, you boil the bones with garden carrots to make a broth. You have to coax him into finishing it, no matter how it tastes, promising that once it's done, he can sleep longer.

By the time the others are awake, you and Blue have failed to leave his side, simply watching the continued rise and fall of his chest as if it might halt if you look away. "Please get better," you catch her murmuring. The only time you go is to speak with Price, informing him that Ghost is in no condition to travel again.

"Twix," he interrupts you, the knowing tick in his brow, and worn smile, making you realize you'd been rambling, your tone coming off a bit accusatory. "I have no intention for us to continue yet. No one is ready for it. We need food, and rest."

You release a filtered sigh, nodding. "I can help hunt, I just need to—"

A firm hand finds your shoulder. His seafoam eyes glance past you at the door to the bedroom, then back into your gaze, low voice barely above a murmur. "You've done more than enough. Let us take care of the food. Just make sure we don't lose him, alright?"

You nod, and when he turns to leave, you mutter to yourself, "I'm trying."

You spend the evening refreshing his bandages, and draining the new wave of pus. You have the idea to look for onions in the garden, remembering they have antimicrobial properties, but there aren't any. So you clean the wounds again with a flush of water, and also scrub his dirty hair a bit. Your brain must be tricking you, because once when you touch him it feels like his fever has at least dropped a degree or two, but then a minute later it feels like it went up more. There is practically no color to his skin except the angry red of his wounds, and the rosy sheen on his cheeks. Other than that he is a pale ghost. It's as if your efforts haven't done a thing.

Frustration strangles your lungs, and you palm at your forehead. His body, deprived of sleep and nutritions for days, is struggling to bounce back, to fight off the encroaching bacteria. His unyielding strength is yielding; succumbing. He needs more food and water. You try to sit him up again, retrieving a small bit of leftover broth, but he is unable to help pull his weight.

"Come on, Simon. Please."

He's too heavy for you, even with Blue pulling at his other arm.

You hurry out of the room and call for Price. He and Nereida are there quickly, his rifle ready. "No, I just need—I need you to lift him."

Price drops the gun to steady Simon up despite the heavy hiss of protest. "Gotta eat, Simon."

He holds him as you spoon broth to his mouth, having to rub at his jaw to release enough tension for him to open it and swallow.

The room is quiet once it's all done, and Nereida stands in the doorway with her head hung low. Price carefully lays him back down so as not disturb the work you've done to his back. He glances at the empty bowl in your hands. "Kyle cut up some squirrels he killed earlier. I'll tell him to make more broth with them in the morning."

All you can do is nod and pass the bowl to him.

When they leave, the heaviness in the room has Blue picking at her wrist. You take her hand, placing another painkiller and sedative in them, and urge her to lay down for more rest.

"I'll stay up with him, alright?"

Her chin drops, and she stares blankly at the quilt. "What happens to me if he dies?"

The hollowness in her voice cuts through you. "We can't think like that," you murmur, refusing to acknowledge how terrified the answer makes you.

"Why not?" Her eyes blaze in the dark. "It's a possibility. I've never seen him like this before."

You shake your head, touching two fingers under her jaw to tilt it up so yours eyes meet. "He's stubborn, like you. And he has too much to live for. He loves you."

She looks away. "I'm not like him. I wouldn't be able to keep going on my own."

"You’ll never be on your own. He and I... we will always come for you," you swear, your voice firmer than you intend. You soften it to a whisper, breathing out, "But even if you were, you’re smarter and stronger than anyone here. There’s nothing you can’t handle, Blue. It was you who kept yourself alive this time."

"It was just luck," she murmurs, curling a fist into the sheet below her. She peers back at you. "If you guys hadn’t found me, I would’ve been bitten to death."

"No," you insist. "It wasn’t luck. You survived because you saw the opportunities, and you took them. You made time for us to find you. You are just like him."

Emotion floods through you, thick and reeling. Without thinking, you pull her into a solid hug, pressing your nose to her scalp. "You’re just like him," you whisper again, screwing your eyes shut. White-hot tears escape, burning a quiet trail down your cheeks, and you feel her begin to tremble in your arms, silently soaking your shirt with her own tears.

Through them, she manages to whisper, twisting your shirt in her fists, "I-I don't want him to leave me again. H-he said he wouldn't."

"He won't," you promise, struggling to catch your breath through a choke, the words rushing out of you. "Never again. I won't let it happen."

After minutes, hours, like this, she grows limp with exhaustion, and you lay her back down, tucking her under the quilt and wiping your cheeks.

You resume position in the chair by Ghost.

This time, you refuse to close your eyes, locking them onto him—the way his cheek is squished against the pillow, the bare stretch of his arm, the curve of his ribs where an old scar splits into the new ones. You keep pulling the blanket over him, thinking maybe the extra heat will break his fever, only to rip it back off moments later, convinced the cool night air would be better. Frustration burns behind your eyes as you rub them hard, then press your forehead against the uninjured part of his shoulder.

“Goddamn it, Simon,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to trace your thumb over the freckles there, connecting them with soft, absentminded sweeps of your finger.

He needs more.

Real medicine.

Either the women are long gone with it, or it's somewhere none of them knew of.

This is what you mull over well into the night when sleep threatens with a pull at your lids, and again, you see red. Blood-red. Like the burst of an open throat. You reopen them and jolt up to your feet, panting hard. The need for a distraction to keep yourself awake pulls you out of the room for a stretch of your legs, pupils straining against the dark hall as you stumble through it, crossing your arms over yourself. You've barely looked through this place besides what was necessary, so it's a surprise when you happen upon a spiral staircase going up, not down.

A cool metal rail bites your fingertips as you heave upward, revealing a small attic library. Dark oak shelves reach the low ceiling, all of the leather spines neatly alined as if never having been touched even once: a capsule of time. A large window at the far end offers enough moonlight for your eyes to scan the embellished spines as you brush a finger over them, various French titles staring back at you. You work your way to the window, where the thin curtain is parted just enough to allow you a view of the creek, cliffside, and dark horizon where stars disappear into distant earth.

"I shouldn't have believed her. I should've made her talk more." The words barely leave your lips before the stench of burning flesh fills your senses. Your hands shake violently. With a sudden, forceful yank, you tear the curtain from the rod. Your voice cracks, rising with rage. "I should have killed her—all of them. I shouldn't have let a single one walk away!"

You spin around and begin pulling books off the shelves, ripping at pages, thrashing them at the floor with a cacophony of thuds, until only half are left untouched. The years-old dust caking the covers explodes into your eyes, stinging them, and tears begin to fall, the painful kind. They come hard, ragged, anything but quiet. You sink to the oriental rug, burying your face into your knees and hugging them close as you sob through your teeth, scraping your nails into your shins.

You picture them all—the blonde man, the old woman, the veiled girls. In your mind, you cut them to shreds. Nerves severed, eyes burst. Until you’re drowning in their entrails.

There is a voice. In your head maybe. But no, it's real—someone touches your shoulder, and you flinch. You lift your gaze, and through it, make out the shape of warm, almond eyes, one of them half-opened beneath a swollen bruise.

Kyle kneels beside you. He doesn't say anything, just sits there, his knee touching yours the only point of connection. When your crying subsides, you feel a tinge of embarrassment at the state he's found you in, and wipe at your cheeks. "Sorry. I woke you up."

"I was already awake."

Silence hums between you, and he thoughtlessly picks up one of the books, thumbing through the pages, then quietly closes it.

"We all owe you our lives, you know. Nereida told us about all you did."

You dig your chin into the tops of your knees and stare off at the wall. "I still didn't do enough."

"You're doing all you can." His gaze pierces into the side of your face, making you feel translucent. "He'll be alright. Always is."

You don't know what to say to that, sighing through flared nostrils and looking down at your feet before over at him. "How is Ari?"

"He's alright. Just shaken, I think. Thank you for asking." A tinge of guilt finds you that you haven't checked on them enough. Ari, just a boy, and he's hardly crossed your mind through any of this.

"You know," Kyle continues quietly, his knuckles whitening around the book. "When we were in there, I didn’t know what to say to get him through it—because I couldn't see much hope myself. I had to watch, do nothing, while they made him memorize that goddamn book just to earn a meal. And he wasn’t allowed to share any with me." He lets out a short, bitter snort. "I've never felt so fucking weak. So powerless. Watching someone you love suffer, not knowing how to help them..." His gaze locks onto yours. "That has to be a pain worse than any torture."

His words catch you off guard. All you can do is reach for him, gripping his shoulders in a firm hug, evening your heart rate. He murmurs a promise about the broth, his hand brushing your shoulder before he excuses himself.

Returning to the bedroom, you check their pulses—her pinky curled around his in sleep. You press a kiss to Blue’s hair, then, without thinking, let your lips brush her father's fevered temple. All you can think of is the harsh burn of his skin, and the medicine you know he needs.

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #cod #simon ghost riley #zombie apocolypse au

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stylesonfilms · 1 month ago

Text

the days are long, the days are hard [h.s]

word count: 4.5k

after a long, excruciating week at work packed with bad news, all you want is your husband, harry.

(inspired by one of my moots that has had a rough few days, hope this brings some comfort!)

warnings: none, just fluff!

Your week started off rough—rougher than most, in fact. The kind of week that clings to your chest like damp fabric, making it hard to breathe and even harder to find the energy to push through.

Monday was everything you’d expect a Monday to be: sluggish, jarring, and unforgiving. Getting back into the groove of things at the office after a much-needed holiday break felt like trying to climb uphill in heels on black ice. Your inbox was flooded, your calendar double-booked, and your brain resistant to the demands of corporate life. The fluorescent lighting overhead seemed brighter than usual, glaring down at you as though it wanted to mock your every misstep.

By Tuesday, the headache that had been brewing since the start of the week blossomed into a full-on throbbing migraine. You powered through with your phone glued to your ear, making calls and leaving voicemails to important individuals who somehow never seemed available. The phone grew slick in your clammy hands, and you found yourself gripping it tighter as though that would keep it from slipping away along with your patience.

Wednesday hit like a freight train. You walked into the office, already dreading the growing to-do list, only to be blindsided by the news that you’d be giving not one, but two speeches at back-to-back meetings. Meetings that you didn’t even know existed until that very moment. You had smiled through clenched teeth and nodded at your boss, silently berating yourself for not anticipating this kind of curveball. The weight of your own expectations pressed heavily on your shoulders, making the simple act of breathing feel like a chore.

Meanwhile, Harry was a ghost in the rhythm of your week. He left before the sun rose, his coffee cup rinsed and drying in the sink by the time you wandered into the kitchen each morning. By the time he returned home, long after the sky had surrendered to darkness, you’d already have dinner waiting—his plate warm, yours half-empty. Conversations were quick and superficial, exchanges of how-was-your-day glossed over in favor of tired smiles and heavy eyelids.

Friday arrived, and with it, the chaos of the city seemed to mirror the storm inside you. Your phone buzzed incessantly in your purse, vibrating against the side of your hip as you weaved through the swarm of New Yorkers hustling to get wherever they needed to be. The cold January air stung your cheeks, and the weight of your tote bag dug into your shoulder as you dodged elbows and briefcases. You muttered an apology to someone who bumped into you, though you couldn’t bring yourself to look up from the sidewalk until you reached the revolving doors of your building.

Once inside, you let out a sharp exhale, your breath fogging up the glass as you took a moment to compose yourself. Tugging at your blazer, you smoothed it over your pencil skirt before running your fingers through your hair, trying to tame the frizz that had been building from the morning’s commute. Your heels clicked sharply against the marble floors as you made your way to the elevator, the sound echoing faintly in the open lobby.

“Hi, Martha!” you chirped at the receptionist, flashing her a smile that felt paper-thin.

“Morning! Good luck today!” she called back cheerfully, though her voice felt like it was coming from underwater.

You loved her, truly. She was one of the few people in the office whose presence didn’t add to your stress, but today, you could barely muster the energy to respond with more than a quick wave. Your nerves had been stretched to the breaking point, and your usual confidence felt like it had been replaced by quicksand.

If it had been any other day, Harry would’ve held you the night before, grounding you in the warmth of his arms as he peppered light kisses across your face. He would’ve whispered words of reassurance into your temple, his voice low and steady as he reminded you of just how capable you were. His hands would have found the curve of your back, his thumb tracing soothing circles into your skin until your worries melted into the sheets.

But last night, you hadn’t let him in. Despite his gentle prodding and his furrowed brows that silently begged you to confide in him, you had brushed him off with excuses of being overtired. You’d told him about your unreasonable bosses, blaming your frustration on the endless pile of work. He didn’t believe you—Harry never did when it came to half-truths. He knew you too well.

He’d pressed his lips into a thin line, his silence carrying the weight of his concern, but he had let it go, probably sensing you didn’t have the energy to delve into your worries. And maybe you should have let him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to add to the weight he was already carrying. With two employees down at his job, he’d been shouldering triple the workload, yet he still came home each night with that same lopsided smile.

You thought about the time, three years ago, when you asked him how he managed to leave the stress of work at the door. His answer had been so simple, yet it had stayed with you ever since.

“Because,” he’d said, pulling you into his arms, “at the end of the day, no matter how bad it gets, I get to come home to you. And that makes everything else feel small.”

The memory brought a faint smile to your lips, even as you stepped into the elevator and prepared yourself for another long day.

You sighed as the elevator dinged softly, floor by floor, the sound seeming to echo in the confined space. It was a rhythmic, monotonous chime, yet it only heightened your sense of dread. Fishing your phone out of your purse, you let the leather strap slide from your shoulder and settle in the crook of your arm. The screen lit up immediately, bathing your face in a cold glow, and a notification blinked persistently at the top. A voicemail.

Your stomach tightened when you saw the name attached: Martin Mayer-Harvey. The name alone carried weight—a man whose influence stretched across six major publishing branches, a figure both revered and feared in the industry. His voice had been a beacon of hope during your one-on-one interview, one you had approached with equal parts trepidation and determination.

Harry had been ecstatic when you first told him about the opportunity. He’d grinned so wide his dimples had cut deep into his cheeks, his enthusiasm bubbling over as he pulled you into a celebratory hug. “This is it,” he’d said, his hands cradling your face. “This is the door opening for you, babe. And you’re going to crush it.” He’d even gone the extra mile to send recommendations on your behalf, his faith in you unwavering.

But now, standing alone in the elevator, the air felt thick with foreboding. With a swipe of your thumb, you tapped the notification, bringing the phone to your ear as you turned the volume up. Another ding. Another floor.

The voicemail played, Martin’s voice smooth and clinical, like velvet stretched too thin.

“Mrs. Y/N, thank you for your time and the professionalism you demonstrated during your interview. I regret to inform you that you have not been selected as an employee for this upcoming year. Nothing personal, it just comes down to the finer things—successes and ethics, and all. Thanks again. Your time was appreciated.”

The words hit you like a gut punch. Your stomach churned, a nauseating wave rolling over you as your breath caught in your throat. Not selected. You repeated the phrase in your mind, the syllables heavy and jagged, cutting deeper with every repetition. Successes and ethics? What did that even mean? Was he saying you weren’t accomplished enough? That you lacked whatever intangible quality he deemed essential?

You swallowed hard, but the lump in your throat refused to go away. When you’d shaken his hand after the interview, his words had brimmed with promise, his smile so genuine you’d dared to believe the position was yours. Yet now, the sterile tone of his voicemail made you feel like just another name crossed off a list.

The elevator dinged again, jolting you out of your spiraling thoughts as the doors slid open with an indifferent hum. The bright fluorescent lights of the seventh floor spilled in, harsh and unforgiving, making you squint as you stepped out into the long hallway. Blinking rapidly, you shoved your phone back into your purse, gripping the strap tightly as if it could somehow anchor you.

Your heels clicked against the polished tiles, the sound sharp and deliberate as you forced yourself to move forward. The walls, painted a dull beige, seemed to close in on you with every step, the air growing heavier as you approached your office.

When you finally stepped inside, the familiar scent of stale coffee and printer ink greeted you, a small comfort in an otherwise dismal moment. Dropping your purse onto the desk with a dull thud, you leaned against the wooden frame, your fingers curling around its edge as if it could keep you upright. Your chest rose and fell in uneven breaths as you closed your eyes, willing yourself to regain control.

The weight of disappointment pressed down on you, a suffocating heaviness that made your fingers tremble as they tightened around the wood. You hated this job. Loathed it, really. What had once been a golden opportunity now felt like a gilded cage. Five years of grunt work had left you disillusioned, the spark of ambition dimmed by endless busywork and little recognition. You had learned, yes, but at what cost?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the creak of the door swinging open, followed by a brisk knock. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Let’s go,” your boss grunted, his voice clipped and devoid of warmth. A briefcase dangled from his hand as he nodded toward the hallway. “You’ve got work to do.”

The meetings were as grueling as you’d anticipated. Standing in front of the room, under the scrutinizing gaze of your colleagues, felt like being trapped under a spotlight. The projector whirred faintly as you fumbled with the remote, your palms damp as you flipped through slide after slide. Words stumbled out of your mouth, tangling together as your nerves got the better of you. Every time you glanced at the room, the blank faces staring back only made your stomach twist further.

You kept replaying Martin’s voicemail in your head, the words looping like a broken record, distracting you at every turn. The disappointment, the humiliation—it all burned, settling low in your gut like a stone.

By the time the meetings ended, you could barely muster the energy to exchange handshakes, your smiles forced and brittle as you bid everyone a good day.

You checked the dainty watch on your wrist—a delicate silver piece Harry had gifted you on your one-year anniversary. It read 5:30. You sighed, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you snapped your case closed on the meeting table.

“What happened out there?” your boss asked, his tone sharp and unimpressed. His gaze swept over you, narrowing slightly as though he could see every crack in your armor. “I thought you were prepared.”

You gave me just under two damn days, you thought bitterly, though the words never left your lips.

Instead, you offered a tight-lipped apology. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I let myself get distracted.”

Your boss lingered for a moment, his eyes scanning your face before letting out a quiet “hm.” He turned on his heel and left without another word.

The breath you’d been holding escaped in a shuddering sigh. The weight of the day bore down on you, your muscles aching under the strain. All you wanted was to go home. To take a long, scalding shower and let the steam wash away the tension clinging to your skin. To crawl into bed, pull the covers over your head, and pretend for a moment that the world wasn’t so heavy.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The hot water cascaded over your skin in steady rivulets, steaming against the cool tiles and filling the bathroom with a dense, comforting warmth. Each droplet hit your shoulders and back with a soothing rhythm, dissolving the tension knotted in your muscles from the week’s troubles. You leaned forward slightly, pressing your palms against the wet shower wall, letting the stream ripple through the strands of your hair and drip down to your toes. The scent of pomegranate and shea butter from the body scrub filled the air, sweet and creamy, wrapping around you like a gentle embrace.

You had gotten home just over half an hour ago. The house had been quiet, the kind of stillness that usually greeted you on Fridays. Harry’s car was absent from the driveway, as expected—he always stayed late at the end of the week, wrapping up whatever loose ends needed his attention. The emptiness of the house had been neither comforting nor unsettling; it simply was. You’d set your bag on the kitchen counter, slipped off your heels, and headed straight for the shower, bypassing the bedroom entirely.

Your clothes lay in a careless heap on the tiled floor, a small pile of the day’s exhaustion. You’d scrubbed at your scalp with your fingernails, washing your hair thoroughly not once, but twice, as if doing so could cleanse not just the grime of the day, but also the weight pressing on your mind. You busied yourself with every task you could—shaving over every inch of skin, exfoliating with the grainy scrub until your arms and legs felt soft and raw, then lathering up with the matching body wash, its silky foam sliding over your skin before being washed away in swirling streams.

When the water finally stopped, you stood for a moment in the silence, the air heavy with steam and the faint aroma of your products. You wrung out your hair with practiced motions, droplets splattering onto the shower floor as you reached for the towel. With a flick of your wrist, you flipped your hair forward and wrapped it into the plush fabric, the soft pink standing out against the misty haze. Another towel—this one a little coarser—was pulled from the rack, and you pressed it to your damp skin, blotting and drying before wrapping it securely around your body.

The bathroom was your sanctuary for the next hour. You took your time moving through your routine, dabbing on lotions and serums, brushing out your hair, and slipping into a pair of soft, oversized pajamas. The familiar scents of lavender and coconut oil mingled with the lingering steam, grounding you as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your heart still carried the same heaviness it had since hearing the voicemail, a quiet ache nestled in your chest. But now, it felt distant—muted, like background noise to the slow hum of your movements.

By the time you left the bathroom, the house felt cooler, the air outside the warmth of the shower almost brisk against your skin. You padded down the hallway barefoot, the soft patter of your steps swallowed by the carpet. The living room was dimly lit, the glow from the TV casting flickering shadows against the walls. You curled up on the couch under the throw blanket, its weight comforting as it settled over you. Your comfort show played softly in the background, the familiar voices blending seamlessly into the quiet. A well-loved book rested by your side, its pages slightly worn, ready to pull you in if you felt like retreating further into your own world.

Around seven PM, the sound of the front door opening broke the silence. The subtle click of the latch, followed by the rhythmic clack of Harry’s work shoes against the hardwood floor, was a melody you didn’t realize you’d been waiting for. His keys jingled briefly before landing with a soft clink in the bowl by the door, and the heavier thud of his briefcase settling onto the dining table made your heart lighten just a little.

Relief bubbled in your chest, warm and effervescent, as you shifted under the blanket. Your arm hooked around the back of the couch, your head tilting to look over your shoulder as Harry rounded the corner. The sight of him brought an instant smile to your face.

He was still in his work suit, the sharp lines of his dark grey blazer and slacks softened by the slight dishevelment that came with a long day. The plain black button-up underneath was unbuttoned at the collar, and the sleeves were cuffed up just enough to reveal his wrists. His hair was slightly mussed, a few strands falling across his forehead.

His lips curved into a familiar, easy smile when he saw you, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he lifted a bag of takeout into the air. “I brought takeout,” he said, his voice warm and teasing as he walked over to you. “Figured tonight was one of those nights.”

Your chest swelled with gratitude— he knew you so well. He always had.

You murmured a quiet thank you, your voice soft and a little worn, and let out a contented sigh as he sank onto the couch beside you. His arms wrapped snugly around you, pulling you close as the weight of the day melted away. You leaned into him, your head resting against his chest as his familiar scent— something clean, woodsy, and uniquely him— enveloped you. His nose brushed against your damp hair, and the warmth of his presence grounded you in a way nothing else could.

For the first time all day, you felt like you could finally exhale.

“You smell good, baby.” Harry’s voice was a soft murmur, his accent thick and lingering in the air like honey, each word wrapped in warmth. His large hands splayed across your back, their weight grounding you as they roamed gently over the sleek fabric of your pajama set. His touch was tender, deliberate, as though he was trying to smooth away the burdens of your day. You melted into him, your arms winding around his torso, clinging to him like he was your lifeline. The familiar scent of his cologne wrapped around you, blending seamlessly with the faint aroma of soap lingering on your own skin.

Your face nestled into the crook of his neck, the warmth of his body radiating into yours as you fluttered your eyes shut. His chest rose and fell steadily beneath your cheek, his heartbeat a gentle, soothing rhythm that seemed to lull your own into sync. Being here, in his arms, felt like finally exhaling after holding your breath all day.

Harry’s lips pressed into a small frown, the pinch of his brows betraying his concern. His hands, broad and steady, paused on your back, giving your shoulders a reassuring squeeze before he pulled back slightly to study you. One hand slid beneath your chin, his touch feather-light but firm, guiding your gaze up to meet his.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked softly, his green eyes searching yours with an intensity that felt like he was looking straight into your soul. His voice was gentle, but the concern etched into his expression made your chest tighten. His thumb brushed over your cheekbone in a slow, comforting stroke, its warmth grounding you even as you struggled to hold his gaze.

You let out a small, weary sigh. “Meetings,” you mumbled, though even to your own ears, the excuse sounded thin. Still, you nuzzled into his touch, seeking comfort as your words trailed off.

Harry’s hand cradled your jaw now, his thumb continuing its soothing path along your skin. His other hand found its way to your bare thigh, his palm warm and steady as it swept up and down, brushing lightly under the hem of your sleep shorts. His touch was instinctive, effortless, but it carried with it a deep well of care that threatened to unravel you.

“You don’t get this worn and torn over meetings, love,” he said quietly, his voice like a low hum of thunder, steady and grounding. “Is there something else?” His green eyes held yours, steady and unyielding, like a comforting fire that wouldn’t burn but would warm you to your core.

Your lips parted, but the words caught in your throat. You sighed again, this time deeper, your shoulders slumping under the weight of it all. His hands never wavered— one cupping your face, the other continuing its soothing rhythm against your thigh.

Finally, you spoke, your voice trembling with a mix of sadness and resignation. “That job at Mayer-Harvey completely fell through,” you admitted, your breath hitching as the words spilled out. “He said... he said I wasn’t qualified enough, not accomplished enough, just… not enough.” The words felt heavier the more you said them, the ache in your chest twisting a little tighter.

Harry’s frown deepened, the lines on his face etched with quiet frustration— not at you, but at the world that had made you feel this way. His thumb stilled for a moment before resuming its gentle sweep across your cheek. When your gaze dropped to your hands, which were busy fiddling with the edge of his blazer, he tipped your chin back up with tender insistence.

“Baby, you know that’s not true, right?” His voice was firm but still soft, his words laced with conviction. “None of it. He doesn’t know an ounce of what he’s talking about.”

You shook your head slightly, your brows furrowing. “H, he owns six different branches. I would say he—.”

“No.” Harry’s voice interrupted gently but firmly, his head shaking in disagreement. “Just because he owns them doesn’t mean he knows how to work them. I can guarantee you, in two months, he’ll realize just how badly he messed up by letting you go. He’ll regret it, love, because no one brings what you do to the table.”

Your lips wavered into a faint pout, sadness glazing over your eyes as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. “I just… I have to keep looking, I guess. Maybe I wasn’t meant to work there anyway.”

“But you damn sure wanted it,” Harry said, his voice softening, though the conviction in his tone remained. His hand on your thigh paused to squeeze lightly before resuming its gentle strokes. “And you deserved it. Y/N, I’ve seen your work. I’ve seen how dedicated you are, how much effort you put in, even when it’s for a company that doesn’t deserve you. And I know,” he paused, leaning a little closer, his eyes locking onto yours, “I know you’d pack a bigger punch for a company that’s actually worth it.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, slowly loosening the knot of doubt and hurt in your chest. Maybe he was right.

You nodded slowly, your fingers tracing the lapel of his blazer as you whispered, “I really wanted it, H.”

“I know, baby.” His voice was soft, his lips brushing against your forehead in a kiss that was as much a promise as it was an act of comfort. He kissed the bridge of your nose next, lingering there for a moment. “But don’t worry, darling. We’ll find you something better— something that deserves you. And listen, if you want to leave that job now, I’d be more than happy to support us. All I want is to take care of my girl. That’s it.”

Harry’s hands framed your face, his thumbs stroking softly against your cheeks as he looked at you with an intensity that made you feel seen in a way no one else could make you feel. Then, slowly, he leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss so gentle, so tender, that it made your heart swell and your worries ebb away.

With Harry by your side, it didn’t matter what the world threw at you. His unwavering support, his patience, his love— it was all you needed.

“Now c’mon,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to press another kiss to your forehead. “Let’s have dinner, yeah?”

You spent that night cooped up under his arm, the fabric of his suit soft but slightly wrinkled from your cuddling. Neither of you cared. All that mattered was the comfort of being close, the way his steady heartbeat became your lullaby as the hours ticked by. The movie played quietly in the background, but neither of you was paying much attention. Harry’s fingers absentmindedly traced little patterns along your arm, while you nestled deeper into his side, letting his warmth soak into your skin.

When dinner was done and the plates had been set aside, Harry stood, stretching dramatically before grinning down at you. “Don’t move a muscle,” he teased, his green eyes crinkling with affection as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

He took care of the cleanup, tossing the trash and rinsing the dishes with that same effortless grace he did everything else. You watched him from the couch, your heart swelling as he moved around the room, sleeves rolled up, that signature Harry charm shining through even in the simplest of acts. He looked over his shoulder to catch you staring, a cheeky smile tugging at his lips. “What’re you looking at, huh?”

“You,” you said softly, your voice carrying a warmth that made his smile widen.

“Good answer,” he chuckled, before walking over and scooping you up effortlessly. You let out a small squeal, laughing as he carried you bridal style toward the bedroom. “C’mon, love. Time for a proper cuddle.”

Once in bed, Harry wrapped you up in his arms as if he never wanted to let go. The suit jacket had long been tossed to the side, but his tie still hung loosely around his neck, a detail that made you smile. His hand found its way to your hair, fingers combing through the strands with a tenderness that melted away the last of your worries.

“By the way,” he murmured, his voice soft and low, “I took the next few days off.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him in surprise. “You did?”

“Mmhm,” he confirmed, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. “Figured my girl needed me more than work did. And honestly, I needed this too. Just you and me for the weekend. Sound good?”

You nodded, your smile spreading as you snuggled closer, your hand resting against his chest. “Sounds perfect.”

Harry’s arms tightened around you, his lips brushing against your temple. “Good. Because I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And as you drifted off to sleep in his embrace, the weight of the world seemed to disappear, replaced by the quiet, unshakable love that only he could give.

567 notes · View notes

athenamikaelson · 8 months ago

Text

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader!Soulmate x Elijah Mikaelson PART 7

Word Count- 5.3k

Warnings- Swearing, stabbing, Elijah wanting to hold hands, witch trials

A/N- KLAUS NEXT CHAPTER BABIES!!!

“I don’t understand why you grown men keep dragging me into your shit,” I groan to Alaric as he parks his car. I cling to my seatbelt and regret ever answering my phone this morning. I really just have to throw my phone away at this point.

“I don’t trust him around Jenna, Y/n. I have a bad feeling about the guy,” Ric says as he undoes his seatbelt and begins to exit the car.

“That or are you just jealous?”

I raise an eyebrow and purse my lips at him and he leans down to stare at me with an annoyed look.

“Get out of the car Y/N.”

I watch as Ric makes his way from his side of the car to mine, but just as he’s about to open my door I press down the lock from the inside. I smirk at him as he tries to open the door but it doesn’t budge. He stares down at me annoyed and then presses his key fob unlocking the car. He tries to open the door but I mimic my actions from before and lock the car again. We continue doing this for another 2 minutes before Ric gets the better of me and throws open my door.

“Seriously, Y/n!”

I huff and practically crawl out of the car.

“For the record, I would rather jump in front of a train than be here,” I say matter-of-factly to Ric as we catch sight of Jenna and Elijah walking up a grass path together.

“For the record,” Ric waves at them and then turns his head towards me, “I don’t care.”

Once again I groan as we make our way towards Jenna and Elijah. I lock eyes with the latter and he sends me a warm smile. I don’t reciprocate and quickly turn my eyes towards Jenna. I can still feel Elijah’s eyes on me, as always, as we stand in front of Jenna and him.

“Uh, Elijah, this is my friend,” Jenna, who seems to be annoyed, introduces Alaric to Elijah, “Alaric Saltzman. And you’ve already met Y/N,” Jenna turns to me and seems much more happy to see me.

Ric who can’t seem to catch a clue speaks, “Ya, I got your, uh, message about walking Elijah here through the old property lines. I thought I, uh we,” He gestures to me, “would, uh, tag along. You know us being history buffs and all. Where to next?”

An awkward silence follows for a moment before Elijah breaks it, “I’m pretty curious about the freed slave property owners. Some say, you know, the descendants of the slaves are the true keepers of American history.”

I am almost one hundred percent sure Mr. Suit and Tie has an ulterior motive but Jenna doesn’t seem to catch it as she tells him she has the stuff in her car and that she’ll go grab it. I watch as she walks away and then turn back to the two men next to me. Elijah stands about a foot's width away from me while Ric is to my right. Ric must’ve noticed Elijah’s staring as he moved himself in front of me. If you didn’t want me to be around Elijah why bring me here? Dumbass.

I can still see Elijah from over Ric’s shoulder and the movement Ric made doesn’t seem to sit well with Elijah as a small twitch in his upper lip presents into a snarl. He drops back into a neutral look almost instantly.

“So you’re one of those people on Elena’s list of loved ones to protect,” Elijah says to Ric. Even though Elijah is relatively shorter than Ric the aura Elijah protrudes makes up for it. Anyone could tell that even though Ric is trying to put up a macho front, he’s afraid of Elijah.

“So is Jenna.”

Elijah smirks at Alaric and then shakes his head slightly, “You don’t have to be jealous. I don’t really pursue younger women,” Elijah’s eyes trail to mine momentarily, “Most of the time.”

Elijah turns back to Ric and they stare at each other for a moment before Elijah pats Ric on the shoulder, “It’s a joke, Ric, lighten up.”

Ric rolls his eyes and nods.

“Wait,” I speak and turn to Elijah, “Technically isn’t every woman younger than you? You know, since you’re like old. Really old. ”

Ric just brings a hand up to massage the tension between his eyebrows and sighs deeply, but Elijah lets out a small chuckle that sends shocks down my spine.

“I guess you’re right Y/N. I am really old,” He mimics my tone with a small smile on his face.

—

35 minutes. We’ve been walking in this dirty ass forest for 35 minutes. I should be in bed asleep right now. But nope, here I am following behind three adults as they talk about history. It’s not that I don’t like history, I do, it’s just that it’s a Saturday. I shouldn’t be learning things on a weekend.

I half-heartedly listen to what Jenna is telling Elijah as we cross over a bunch of fallen tree logs. Alaric helps Jenna over one, and I don’t miss the dirty look she looks she shoots him, making me try to cover my giggle with my hand. The giggling instantly stops though when I see Elijah standing by the front of the log with his hand outstretched towards me. We haven’t talked in these 35 minutes since Jenna has been occupying him, but that hasn’t stopped him from turning back every few moments to catch a glimpse of me, as if he thinks I’m just going to disappear into thin air. Honestly, I wish I would.

I’m not going to use Elijah’s help but realize that my clumsy ass would probably fall over the log if I didn’t. So I lightly place my hand into his, which results in him closing his hand over mine. Locking our hands together. Our hands are locked for a long moment before Ric clears his throat from the other side of the log. I quickly look away from Elijah and use his hand to get over the log carefully. I soon as I get over it though I wrench my hand away from his and walk over to Jenna who sends me a warm smile.

“Seems like someone is fond of you,” She whispers to me as she raises his eyebrows suggestively.

I can already feel the redness making its way onto my cheeks as I stare at her horrified. Jenna just laughs at my face as she starts leading us farther down the trail we’re on. Sadly though, Alaric has occupied Jenna, which leaves Elijah to walk next to me.

Elijah’s quiet for a moment, seemingly just enjoying my company before he starts speaking, “Is it true what Alaric says,” I turn to him confused, “That you’re a history buff?”

I sigh slightly as I shrug my shoulders realizing that just talking to the guy might make this little trip go by a little faster.

“I wouldn't call myself a buff,” I use my fingers to make air quotes, “but it’s also not something I dislike. Learning about how our world was made and all the small factors of why it was made are quite intriguing. I also like weird history.”

“Weird history,” Elijah questions me with a frown.

“You know, like the unexplained, or the odd things in history that many don’t understand,” At the still confused look on his face I continue, “You know like the dancing plague of 1518, D.B Cooper, or Oh! The lost colony of Roanoke. That’s probably my most favorite.”

Once I realized that I had just gone on a tangent I went to apologize to Elijah but when I look at him all I can see on his face is pure adoration. The type of adoration that makes the beating in my chest stops. He smiles at me and from being so close to him I notice the small dimple on his left cheek.

“I understand now,” Elijah says, “You seem to be most interested in The Roanoke Colony. Why is that?”

I ponder his question for a moment, “I’m not sure, it’s just something I’ve always been drawn to. Maybe because of how mysterious and odd it is. I’m not sure, I know that some people say it was aliens or cannibalism but there isn’t a known answer. It’s amazing to me that so many people, an entire village, can go missing and there are no clues. Other than the word Croatoan!”

Elijah nods his head along but the look in his eyes and the smirk on his face tells me he’s hiding something. Wait. Holy shit.

I whip around to him stopping us, “You know, don’t you! I mean you’re old enough but I didn’t even think you would…,” I stop and stare at him in awe for a moment, “You have to tell me.”

Elijah opens his mouth but then I shake my head and throw a hand up to his mouth stopping him, “Wait! No, what if you tell me and it ends up disappointing me.”

I go through all the possibilities in my head at what he could tell me and then fight myself on whether I should have him tell me or not. I can feel Elijah’s smile behind my hand and bring my hand back.

“Sorry,” I wince embarrassed.

“No worries, I enjoy seeing you so full of life,” I blush at his words, “Would you like me to tell you?”

I think about Elijah’s question for a moment and then shake my head, “No. I think the reason I love that moment in history so much is because of the mystery behind it. I don’t want to lose interest in it by knowing.”

Elijah seems pleased with my answer and nods, “Very well.”

We continue walking for another moment before Elijah chimes up again, “What else interests you?”

I shrug my shoulders, “Nothing much, I’m not a very interesting person.”

“I highly doubt that.”

I smile slightly at his comment, “Well I like reading. That’s actually something Elena and I have bonded on. I used to get bullied for being a book nerd but now having someone who likes it too is comforting.”

At this mention of Elena, Elijah’s smile drops slightly but then turns into a small frown.

“I’m sorry that you were bullied for reading, as a literature connoisseur myself I find it quite depressing how reading has become something so rare in these past decades. What types of books do you read?”

I nod along to Elijah’s words until he asks what books I read. At this, I instantly get red and look anywhere other than him.

“You know,” I try to find a socially acceptable answer. Not really wanting to tell this 1,000-year-old man I spend my free time reading smut, “Literature.”

“Literature?”

Elijah looks at me with a smirk on his handsome features and I just nod and clear my throat, “Yep, literature. Just all the literature.”

“What about you? What literature do you like?”

Elijah laughs slightly at my change in subject, “Literature in general as well,” I roll my eyes at his joke, “But also I appreciate all types, Historical, the classics, thriller, even romance.”

“You read romance,” I ask surprised.

He nods his head, “On occasion. There’s something so unique about how different authors portray love and devotion. Where some show it as a neverending, intense emotion others show it as one’s demise.”

“And which do you believe?”

This question has Elijah pausing momentarily, thinking, “I’ve lived a long time, Elskan. Seen people start wars in the name of love, and seen people kill and die in its name aswell. To choose just one thought when it comes to the idea of love is something I can not do. What about you, what are your thoughts on love?”

“I want nothing to do with it.”

Elijah goes quiet for a moment at my answer. I face back forward and we keep walking in silence for another moment.

“I understand your reluctance towards it. But still young why cut off something like love at your age?”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes at his words. My age has nothing to do with my hatred and distaste for love.

“Don’t tell me all that romance you read is getting to your head, Elijah,” I say to him slightly snarky.

“I’ve struck a nerve,” Elijah says as he nods his head.

“Nope. No nerves struck here,” I tell him picking up my speed and walking away from him. He doesn’t have to try hard to meet my speed though as he falls back into step with me.

“Even though there have been no nerves struck,” He tries to lighten the tension with a joke, “I must apologize for overstepping. As I’ve said before, making you uncomfortable is the last thing I’d ever want to do.”

I move my gaze from Jenna’s back, who is currently in a small argument with Alaric, and turn to look at Elijah. Once again his face has no signs of malice or ill intent.

“It’s fine,” I shrug at him, “Like I said no struck nerves.”

Elijah slightly laughs and then nods his head. We walk for another 5 minutes in silence, Elijah helps me over logs and rocks whenever we come up to one.

“Y/N and I should be heading back now,” Alaric tells the group as we get to a clearing.

I nod, happy to be getting out of these woods.

“Well, thank you Y/N for coming today, I’m sure you had more exciting things to do today,” Jenna smiles at me and jokes.

“Just sleeping. But it was nice to see you Jenna,” I reluctantly look over to Elijah who hasn’t left my side, “You as well.”

This has Elijah’s deflated shoulders rising again. He almost reminds me of a dog that is happy someone is finally giving it an ounce of attention.

“It was a pleasure to be able to spend this morning with you, Y/N,” I’ve noticed that Elijah calls me by my actual name when other people are around. But, when it is just him and I, he uses that stupid nickname.

I nod as I go to follow Alaric back to the car but stop and turn back to Elijah, “I guess I’m not one-hundred percent against love,” This perks Elijah up, “I mean I totally loved the dress I wore to the tea party.”

Elijah lets out a deep chuckle that rattles his broad shoulders, “You weren’t the only one.”

I almost choke on my saliva at his words. Elijah’s smirk deepens and I put my lips together and nod my head fast.

“Well, um. I’ll be going now,” I don’t give Elijah time to respond as I speed walk past him and Jenna and grab Ric’s forearm pulling him roughly behind me.

“Keep up,” I whisper yell at him as we speed walk our way to the car.

—

The original plan was that Ric and I would go on that stupid history walk and then after 30 minutes he would bring me back to my house, but of course, no one in this god-forsaken town follows any type of deal. So that’s why I am currently sitting in front of Demon and his “girlfriend,” and next to Ric who are talking about Elijah and how they don’t trust him. Thankfully Damon bought me fries so this whole trip hasn’t been an entire waste. I half-ass listen to their conversation but don’t really care so I don’t process a word they’re saying, at least not until Damon perks up.

I’ve come to learn from my time in knowing Demon that if I see him getting excited about something, someone is going to get hurt.

So that’s why I follow his line of sight and see Elijah and Jenna walk into the Grill together.

“Ah, there Jenna with her new boyfriend,” Damon says. I know he’s just trying to get a reaction out of Ric but something about that sentence makes my skin crawl.

Damon calls over both of them. Jenna welcomes all of us with a smile and wave while Elijah trails behind her looking complacent. As always his eyes find mine and his complacent smile lightens.

“So I hear you two had a meeting of the historical minds today,” Damon speaks to the two.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Jenna smiles looking up at Elijah who is now looking down at Demon.

“Well, as much as I’d love to continue this, I, uh, I’ve got papers to grade and a teenager to get home,” Ric gets up from his seat and he gestures to me. I frown as I see my fries still half full and quickly grab a fist full and fill my mouth trying to get away with as many as possible, almost choking myself in the meantime. The adults around me watch me with a mix of amusement and slight disgust, but I don't care. I’m not wasting free food.

“No, you know what,” Alex or Stephanie or whatever Demon’s girlfriend is named, chirps up, “We should continue this. Let’s have a dinner party!”

Hell to the no.

“Ooh, my girl. Full of good ideas,” Damon looks over to her before turning back to us, “I’ll be happy to host. Say tonight. Maybe?”

“It’s good for me. Jenna,” Where Alessia agrees Ric tries to disagree.

“Yeah, I’m free,” Jenna talks over Ric. Yikes.

“Will the lovely Y/N be there,” Elijah asks me and I try to tell him, “Hell no,” but the fries in my mouth have left me mute.

“Of course, she’ll be there,” Damon exclaims as if there isn’t any other place I’d rather be. I send him a nasty glare which earns me a wink in return.

“Then it’d be a pleasure.”

Damon’s smile is all but welcoming as he responds to Elijah, “Great.”

This is going to be a horrible night.

—

This is a horrible night.

First I get a nasty grade on my modern art project. Not my fault, since modern art is a crime against humanity.

Then, I try to find a dress for this stupid dinner and the only half-decent dress that I have now is two inches too short.

And then after I said screw it, put the dress on and finished getting ready. I went down to my car only to find out that my front tire had gone flat. Honestly in this case I was happy about it because I had a reason to cancel, but when I called Jenna and told her the “upsetting” news, she told me she’d come pick me up. Great.

So now I’ve been sitting on my front porch waiting for Jenna. After waiting for fifteen minutes I was close to just calling it quits and telling Jenna the fries from earlier made me throw up on myself. But, right when I stand up a dark sedan pulls into my driveway. Wait. I know that sedan. Damnit. Why the hell is Elijah here?

As if he could read my thoughts Elijah pretty much glides out of his car looking practically god-like in yet another five-thousand-dollar suit and smiles at me.

“Good evening, Elskan,” Elijah walks up the walkway to stand before me, “Miss. Sommers so kindly asked me if I could escort you to the dinner tonight. To which I happily obliged.”

“Right,” I sigh, “Let’s just get this night over with.”

I walk to Elijah’s car as he follows me, just like before he opens the door for me. I send him an appreciative nod and get in. After another moment we’re driving down the dark road towards the boarding house.

“You look breathtaking, Elskan,” Elijah says to me from his position in the driver’s seat.

“Thanks,” I turn to him and look at his usual attire, “You look the same.”

He chuckles, “Yes, you always seem to remind me of my attire. Thank you for that.”

“Always here to help.”

We drive in comfortable silence for the entirety of the trip until we get to the Salvatore’s driveway.

“How are you feeling about tonight,” Elijah’s tone is flat but as he looks at me his eyes are filled with what I believe to be suspicion.

“You mean, do I think something bad is going to happen?”

Elijah’s upper lip twitches, “Aren’t you a smart one? But yes, I am not going to threaten you Elskan. I would never do that, but,” At that, I’m tensing in my seat, “I need to know if your friends are planning something, unbecoming, tonight.”

At Elijah’s serious tone, I shake my head, “I don’t know anything. Promise,” Elijah doesn’t seem to be entirely pleased with my answer, and something in me wants to fix that, “But, I do know that Damon is not one to have friendly dinner parties so,” I look at him uneased but speak in a strong voice, “Be on your guard tonight.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Elskan.”

—

Elijah and I stand side by side as he knocks on the front door. We wait only a moment before a smirking Demon opens it up,

“Thank you both for coming,” Damon says a little too nicely, “Y/N don’t you look adorable. Come on in!”

Elijah places his hand on my lower back, “Just one moment. Can I just say that if you have less than honorable intentions about how this evening is going to proceed, I suggest you reconsider.”

“No, nothing, nothing dishonorable. Just, uh, getting to know you.”

“Hmm, well, that’s good.”

“Yeah,” I watch this back and forth waiting for something bad to happen.

“Because, you know, although Elena and I have this deal if you so much as make a move to cross me I’ll kill you and I’ll kill everyone in this house,” And there it is, “Except Y/N and Miss. Sommers of course. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Damon eyes Elijah wearily. And then Elijah leads me into the house as Jenna enters the room.

“Jenna, wonderful to see you again. How are you?”

“I’m seriously getting whiplash from you man,” I whisper so only Elijah will hear. The only response I get is a slight squeeze to my waist as he pulls me closer and away from everyone else who has entered the room to greet us. His right-hand stays resting on my upper hip.

“Let’s eat.”

—

“I hate to break it to you, Damon,” Jenna says to Damon as she pours him a glass of wine, “But according to Elijah your family is so not a founder of this town.”

“Hmm, do tell,” Damon responds. Damon sits at the head of the table sipping his wine as he stares at Elijah, who is currently sitting next to me on my right. Alaric sits to my left and Jenna and Abby sit across from us. I should really learn her name. There’s also this balding white man who is sitting across from Damon at the other end of the table but no one here seems to want him here.

“Well, as I mentioned to Jenna earlier a faction of settlers migrated from Salem after the witch trial in the 1690s. Over the next hundred years, they developed this community where they could feel safe from persecution.”

“Hmm, because they were witches,” Jenna chimes in.

“Yeah, there’s no tangible proof there were witches in Salem.”

“Andies a journalist. Big on facts,” Oh, so that’s her name. I liked Andrea more.

“Well,” Elijah sets down his fork and starts talking again, “the lore says that there was this wave of anti-witch hysteria. It broke out in the neighboring settlement. So these witches were rounded up. They were tied to stakes in a field together and, uh, burned,” Elijah says as if it’s something anyone wants to hear while they’re eating steak dinner, “Some say you could hear the screams from miles around us. They were consumed by the fire. Could you pass the,” He gestures to the salt and Ric passes it to him wearily.

“I wouldn’t repeat this to the Historical Society,” Jenna says which has me wanting to roll my eyes at the mention of those bags.

“Maybe you should,” I say to myself but have seemed to catch the attention of the table. Shit.

“I’m just saying it would knock them down a peg, which is clearly needed,” I whisper out the last part, “Even though there is no proof of witches being burned at the stake during the trials. It was mostly done from self-drownings and using rocks.”

At my contradiction to Elijah’s statement he raises an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

“Self-drowning and rocks? How would that work,” Jenna questions with a slight stutter clearly having had a little too much wine.

“Well with the drowning it was more of a test,” I use fingerquotes at the word, “So to speak. The witch in question would be tossed into a body of water and if she was able to stay afloat she was condemned as a witch and was killed. But if she didn’t float, well. Y’know. So I mean either way it was just a way to punish women for being women. They used the rocks though to stone the people to death. Interestingly enough one of my ancestors was actually killed that way. R.I.P.”

I laugh at my little joke at the end which has earned me a few stares from the people at the table.

“Ok, moving past whatever that was,” Damon says as he turns back to Elijah, “So why do you want to know the location of these alleged massacres?”

Elijah thinks for a moment before smiling, “You know… a healthy historian’s curiosity, of course.”

“Of course,” Damon replies to Elijah who has already gone back to taking a bite out of his steak. I bring my glass of water to my lips and take a sip but start choking on it when I feel a hand gently grab my other one from under the table.

“Y/N! Are you ok,” Jenna exclaims from her side of the table as Ric pats me on the back, I put up a thumbs up and try to smile.

“Yep all good. Just,” I cough out a bit more, “went down the wrong pipe. Don’t mind me.”

Even though I almost choked, Elijah still hasn’t moved his hand from mine. Instead, his fingers have begun tracing shapes into my skin. I know I should feel disgusted, but I can’t seem to want to move his hand away. He looks at me momentarily as if to check I’m ok. To which I send him a small nod. This in return makes him smile and grab a hold of my hand more firmly now.

Damon's standing distracts me momentarily, “Does anyone care for some cognac? I have a bottle I’ve been saving for ages.”

God, me, please.

“None for me, thanks. Nine bottles of wine is my limit,” Alaric says as he downs yet another glass of wine. Jesus dude, try water sometime.

This has everyone standing from the table. Ok then, guess I’m done eating.

“The gentleman should take their drinks in the study,” Anna says.

“How 1950s of you Alice,” I smile at her sarcastically.

“My name is Andie,” She says back.

“Is that not what I said,” I smile at her as I walk past her into the study. I don’t even want to go in here with them but I’m doing it to stand on principle. And that I’m kind of an asshole. But that’s not my fault since I was awoken this morning before I was able to get my full 13 hours of shut eye.

—

My fingers graze the dozens of books I walk by as Damon and Elijah converse behind me. It surprises me that Damon has so many books, when he’s so dumb. Weird.

“Are these Stefan’s?”

Damon spares me a moment's glance, “No, they’re mine.”

I hum. Weird. Maybe he just doesn’t have comprehension skills.

“So, let me guess, in the addition to the moonstone, the doppelganger, the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe… You need to find this witch burial ground.”

“Because I feel as though we’ve grown so close, Damon,” Elijah’s words have me chuckling as I flip through a book that seems to be at least one hundred years old, “I’ll tell you yes. Do you know where it is?”

“Maybe,” Damon’s answer has Elijah walking over to him, “Tell me why it’s so important.”

“We’re not that close.”

Damon getting rejected has me snorting which catches Elijah’s attention as he smiles up to me. He notices the book I have in my hands and speaks again to Damon.

“It’s quite a collection you have here. It is a funny thing about books. Before they existed people actually had memories.”

I go to make a snarky comment at Elijah’s words but Ric comes storming into the study.

“Gentlemen,” I clear my throat and Ric looks at me, “And Y/N. We forgot about dessert.”

Addison comes over to Elijah and raises a hand for him to take, which has a nasty feeling starting in my gut. But before it goes too far Elijah turns to me instead and reaches out his own hand, “Y/N.”

I have to fight back a snort as we walk by Amelia Bedelia as Elijah leads me into the dining room where Jenna is.

“Sorry, guys, dessert is taking longer than I thought,” Jenna’s words have me physically deflating, “I usually just unwrap food.”

Elijah leads me to a chair and moves it so I can sit down. He sits next to me and Audrey sits across from us.

“So, I know this is a social thing but I, I would really love to ask you some more questions about the work that you’re doing here,” She asks Elijah who agrees. I’m quite interested in what he’s going to say since he’s created this big lie surrounding, Elijah Smith.

“Great,” She continues as Damon enters the room, “Oh, that’s so great. Ric, would you do me a favor and grab the notebook out of my bag?”

She instructs Ric as Elijah’s hand finds its way back to my hand.

“Elijah, did John tell you that he’s Elena’s uncle/father?’’

Damon’s question has me sitting up right.

“Huh?!”

I look between Damon and the balding man next to me and wonder how he was able to produce a girl as pretty as Elena. Also now I’m pissed and kind of sad no one has told me this before.

“Yes, I’m well aware of that,” Even Elijah knows?!

“Of course, she hates him, so there’s absolutely no need to keep him on the endangered species list.”

Now I don’t feel bad for thinking he looked like Charlie Brown earlier.

Adeline says something to Ric but now my full focus is on Elijah's fingers which are now grazing up and down my hand that lays on my thigh.

I can hear Dead Beat saying something to Elijah but the words won’t focus as I try to calm my breathing. Elijah’s deep voice enters my ears as I hear him threatening the two men but the soft touching hasn’t gone away.

I’m almost comforted by the feeling now until the once soothing feeling is replaced by his hand crushing my thigh. My yells are mixed with what I’ve just now realized are Elijah’s as he crunches up in pain. A loud scream escapes my lips as I see a dagger protruding from Elijah’s back and can only watch in horror and pain as Elijah’s once soft and light skin turns to grey and veining flesh.

I blink rapidly as everyone moves around me but all I can focus on is Elijah’s dead body. Dead. Elijah’s dead. Oh god.

I feel someone grab my upper arm and drag me out of my seat, “What’s wrong with you?”

My breathing halts. My vision goes black and, my body hits the floor.

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 4 months ago

Text

Objects in Motion

Part 4!

Alpha! Billy Russo x Omega! Reader

No warnings this is wholesome lmaoooooooo

His scent lingers on you when you walk into work on Monday. Despite how hard you'd tried to wash it off, it clings to your skin, seemingly unwilling to let you go.

Secretly, that delights you, emphasizes the strength of whatever there was between the two of you. It’s equal parts giddy, and terrifying.

That an alpha like him- that he could be interested in you, you have to resist a groan of delight as you wait for the elevator to get to your floor.

The doors slide open and you let out a long sigh, making your way slowly to your desk, smiling and forcing yourself to greet your coworkers.

You were already exhausted by the idea of working, wishing you were still in bed, hidden under piles of blankets to shield you from the world. Maybe a certain alpha would be willing to join you.

Or maybe… maybe you were better off never thinking about him again.

Honestly, you'd probably be doing him a favour, your situations couldn't be more opposite, you couldn't imagine him ever seeing where you lived, it might hurt you to see the pity written across his face.

Worse, you'd just be a burden to him, he'd probably feel obligated to take care of you, and if things didn't work out- you shudder- you didn't even want to think about it.

But God, you were so attracted to him that it hurt. You couldn't stop thinking about him, and the ways he would touch you, the ways he might feel, the size of him-

You blink in surprise, feeling a small flush of pheromones around you. Damn, work was the worst place for this.

At the same time, you catch sight of Renée, the only other omega in the department, making her way toward you, her desk situated nearby.

She glances at you, gives you a subtle nod while dropping her stuff, before pausing, and turning to you.

“You smell like an Alpha.” She says, no question in her tone.

Renée was the type of person to speak somewhat kindly to your face, the perfect facade of caring, but you knew people, and you knew that she would find a way to work this interaction into office gossip.

“I made a friend.” You answer inexplicably, trying to keep a poker face, knowing that shyness would do you no favours here.

She raises her eyebrows, turns away, you knew she was thinking one of two things, wondering how you managed to befriend an alpha before her, or that someone you called a ‘friend’ would let you scent them. Basically, that you were a slut and she was better than you.

“Well, I hope you have fun.” She says, smiling over at you sweetly.

“Thanks.” You mutter politely, tugging your headset on, and getting ready to start your day.

Your phone pings in the middle of the morning peak hours, and you pause speaking to glance down at it, seeing yet another message from the alpha himself.

He’d been sending texts all weekend, texts that you had been ignoring, though you weren’t exactly sure why.

You shake your head, apologising for your pause, before resuming your work.

When the call ends, you take a bathroom break, pulling down your notification bar to see what he’s said.

You catch sight of all the other messages before, sighing as guilt fills you.

I hoped you had a nice time, sweetheart, I’d like to see you again.

Omega?

Please don’t feel shy about the car, I wanted it too.

Are you ignoring me?

Good morning, sweetheart. Let’s have dinner.

Are you really going to make me beg?

It was almost hard to breathe, the way he seemed so desperate for you. You could almost feel his desire through the phone, like an ache in your chest, sticking like tar to the back of your throat.

Denying him might be the hardest thing you've ever had to do, but it was for the best, you decide as you lock your phone. You would not be played for a fool ever again.

He calls during your lunch break, you swallow and flip your phone over, muting the call while you eat your small packed lunch.

Why wasn't he getting the message? Would it really be that hard to free yourself of him?

You don't get any more messages or calls after that, and you assume he gives up when you hear nothing else from him for the rest of the day.

Your transit home is bitter, the thought that you'd successfully chased an alpha away hurts, like you knew it would.

He might have been amazing, he might have been warm. You tip your head back on the bus, taking in a deep breath and exhaling agony.

Worse, his scent fades even more the next day, and where you'd been trying to scrub it from you over the weekend, you cling to it now, wishing it would stay just a few days more.

You stop, surprised, when you see a single sunflower sitting on your work desk in the morning.

It's in a little transparent vase, and your heart gives a violent uptick as you approach, reaching for the little card you see pressed under the vase, raising it to your nose, taking a deep breath.

Your eyes roll back in your head at the pure scent of him. He'd probably rubbed the harsh little card against his scent gland, trying to get your attention by any means necessary.

You go so weak in the knees that you're forced to brace a hand against your desk to support you.

You draw back, flipping the card open, finding one word written neatly in his hand.

Please

You bite down in the corner of your lip, smiling. Guess you hadn't chased him away after all.

Was this good? Was this bad? You didn't know, all you could feel is your chest fluttering at the idea that you'd pushed this Alpha away as hard as you could and he was still here, trying to calmly approach, not overwhelming you by physically getting into your space, but letting his actions speak for him, reminding you that he was still here.

Could you hope that his feelings were real? That he really cared about you, where other Alphas had only themselves in mind?

“From your friend?” Renee's voice breaks into your head.

You turn, dropping your hand as if you've been caught.

“Yeah.” You breathe out, turning to busy yourself with work, feeling her eyes glued to the back of your head.

When you finally settle in, staring at the flower, you frown, remembering the way the second alpha you'd been with had used your own desires against you. He'd twisted your need to be cared for, making it seem like your only purpose was to serve him. Adam had left you aching for crumbs and hating yourself for it.

You could almost cry from the memory, that alphas could be so cruel, so manipulative, that it was always a game and you needed to keep your cards close to your chest.

Why, would William be any different?

Why were you wishing with everything you had, that he was?

You bring the card up to your nose, breathing in his scent, hoping.

You’re staring at his unopened messages yet again, trying to figure out what to say to him when the phone on your desk rings.

You straighten, grabbing your headset, tugging it on before answering, giving your quick, jovial greeting.

There’s a long pause, that alerts you to the fact that this call might not be totally normal.

“Omega.” The voice finally says, and your mouth drops open in surprise.

“William?” You ask, almost choking on your words, “You- these calls are recorded for quality purposes.”

“You’ve been ignoring me. This was the only way I could think of to hear your voice.”

Jesus Christ, you could feel your heart palpitating in your chest.

“We shouldn’t be talking on this line.” You respond shakily.

“Did I do something wrong? Tell me what I did sweetheart, so I can fix it.”

Ohmygod, you clear your throat, adjusting yourself in your seat with the way his voice is affecting you.

“William-”

“-I can’t stop thinking about you. I need to see you again, even if it’s for you to tell me you want me to leave you alone. I’ll beg if I have to.”

You blink, mouth parting, unable to speak.

“We shouldn’t.” You try.

“Please.” is his low, grovelling response.

Your breath hitches as he continues on repeat, slow, drawing out each word with his voice echoing through your headset, sending shivers over your spine.

“Please, please, please, please, please-”

“Okay.” You stumble out, “Alright.”

You hear him sigh a breath of relief.

“Let’s have dinner tonight. My treat.”

“I don’t-” You start before cutting off, cheeks aflame with embarrassment, “-I have nothing to wear.”

“Don’t fret little one, I’ll pick you up after work. I’ll take care of everything, you just have to withstand my company for one night, and if you really want me to, I’ll leave you alone after.”

“I’m holding you to that, alpha.” You answer, whispering it so that Renée doesn’t overhear you.

He hums over the line, a little laugh after a few moments.

“Thank you, omega, see you later.”

You mumble your goodbye, ending the call on your side.

It warms your core for minutes after, unbelievably turned on by him, unable to deny the way you were feeling, you bring the card up to your nose once more, breathing him in.

He sends you a quick message a few minutes before your work day ends to tell you that he’s waiting in the lobby for you.

You feel a nervous twist in your stomach as you close your files, and pack up your things, glancing over to see that Renee hadn’t come back from her trip to the bathroom just yet, normally bidding her goodbye before you leave.

You wonder if you should bring the sunflower with you, but you figure it would be fine here and you can just take it home tomorrow. On the other hand, seeing it here really did make the day more bearable.

You decide to think about it later, heading for the elevator, your bag in hand.

You catch his scent as the doors slide open, smiling wistfully as bergamot surrounds you, tugging you to him.

You round the corner and stop short in shock.

You'd never thought of Renée as a friend in any means, but you'd never seen her as any type of adversary until this very moment, as you watch her smile up at William, her neck tilted to the side slightly in offering.

It's a very bold move, to openly present your scent gland to a possible stranger, and you glance up at his face, noting his expression.

His eyebrows are pinched, mouth turned down into a frown, confusion maybe, perhaps a hint of distaste.

You didn't know you were good at reading lips until this moment as well, but you know without a doubt that he says the words ‘I'm sorry, I'm not interested.’ despite how far away you are.

Then, he turns, eyes meeting yours as if he knew exactly where you were.

He mutters something you think is ‘excuse me,’ before he begins walking in your direction.

In a well pressed white shirt, tucked into charcoal grey pants, he approaches you with even strides, never breaking eye contact, making you feel the intensity of him as he draws near.

You feel your spine stiffen, head angling upward the closer he gets, until he's standing before you, drinking you in.

“Hello, sweetheart, thank you for giving me another chance to see you.”

You gulp.

“D- don't make me regret it.” You stutter out, trying to stand your ground on your boundaries.

“Never.” He promises, extending his elbow out for you to take. You eagerly oblige, reaching up to grip his bicep securely, maybe a little bit more than necessary.

You keep your head down, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone on your way out.

He's not driving this time, guiding you toward a very big SUV, with blackout windows and a cozy leather interior.

There’s so much room, enough for him to extend his legs when he slides in beside you, closing the door and tapping twice on the partition separating the two of you from the driver.

“Wow,” you murmur, looking around, even noticing a small fridge in the space across from you, “This- is this yours?”

He hums.

“Technically, they belong to the company, but I get to use it when I need to.”

You blink, realising that he was trying to be humble about it.

Smiling, you turn to look at him, eyes widening when you realise how close he’d gotten to you when you were distracted.

“You smell like me, omega.” He whispers into the space between you, his dark eyes searching yours, leaning in, he presses his nose to your hair.

You hear the soft inhale, your body stiffening, trying to resist your own instinct to present your scent gland to him. His own scent fills the space around you, and his shaky exhale brushes your ear as he leans away.

“I won’t lie and say I’m not pleased by it. You have power over me, sweetheart, I hope you know that.”

Your breaths sharpen, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you bite down harshly trying to recenter your thoughts.

How could he say something like that so easily? As if it were in his nature to be so… devoted.

His gaze dips to your mouth, lingering there for a long moment before he smiles softly.

“How was work today?” He inquires, leaning back further, taking a few deep breaths, in what you can only assume is an attempt to calm himself.

It was great, you want to say, but the words won't come out with the way he's looking at you, as if you're his next meal, or his deity.

You can't decide.

“Omega?”

“Good.” You blurt, losing control of your thinking, did you even really have a good day? You don't have the brain power to remember.

You turn your head away, blinking, trying to… think. It was hard to focus on anything other than him, the way he was filling your head with primal static, the urge to obey, to succumb washing over you.

“I’m sorry,” You finally say, dropping your head into your hands, “being around you isn’t easy. It’s hard to control myself.”

You feel pressure in your throat, tears springing to your eyes, a dam on the brink of bursting.

His hand presses securely between your shoulder blades.

“Breathe,” He says calmly, you turn your head to find warm, encouraging eyes.

Oh, you think to yourself as you follow his instruction, breathing in softly, feeling those primal desires soften under the guidance of the very man causing them.

“There you go,” His voice makes your stomach flutter, “There’s nothing to be sorry about, little one.”

There he goes again, making you want him.

What would it cost, to reach up and kiss him? To press your fingers into his jaw while your mouths meet, to feel him like that, to exist with him in that way?

You let out a soft sigh, relaxing, living in that thought for a few moments.

When he’s sure you’re calm enough, he smiles.

“Now, let’s start over- was your day actually good?”

You feel amusement rise inside of you.

“Yeah,” you utter softly, “No one yelled at me, so I call it a win.”

He blinks, his expression turning sorrowful.

“People often yell at you?”

You nod.

“Customer service… is an excuse for small people to make someone else feel small.”

Something changes in his eyes, sorrow moulting into something else- his jaw tightening.

“I don't like the sound of that.” He admits.

You offer him a wry smile.

“That's just how things are, I guess. This is what I have to work with.” You stop yourself from complaining more, worried that it might upset him to hear the way people treated you, to hear them make derogatory comments, to question your intellect as if you'd personally inconvenienced them.

His hand moves from your shoulder, tracing its way up to the back of your neck, and then to the side, his thumb in perfect reach of your scent gland and your brain goes hazy at the thought.

Instead of your gland, his thumb reaches up to stroke the edge of your jaw calmly.

“What happens if someone is too aggressive? What's the protocol? Do you transfer them to a manager?”

You gulp, remembering one time that happened, you'd gotten reprimanded after.

“Yeah that's the protocol, but I think it's best if I solve the problem myself, and get approvals on my own. It's not usually good to waste my supervisor's time.”

His thumb gently stroking your cheek lulls you, fits you into a space where you feel safe to talk about these things.

“Does anyone at your job yell at you?”

“Not… yell,” you hesitate for a moment, enjoying his caress, “they're just… warnings. I'm- I try to do my best to avoid that.” You huff out a breath, “I guess I got yelled at once, when I first started, but not after that.”

You gulp, glancing at him, the soft fire in his eyes as he studies you, his thumb dipping, circling the spot right above your gland.

Your lips part, your mind begging you to reach out to him.

The car slows to a stop.

You take a deep breath, eyes widening when you scent the mixture of pheromones in the air, you might as well be begging him on your knees with how potent it was. It sort of surprised you that he was able to resist it.

You want to say something to him, anything to fill the silence that swarms in as your eyes meet his, but your brain is blissfully blank, not a single cohesive thought other than how badly you wanted him.

He gives you a patient smile.

“We’re here.” He says.

“Where?” You ask softly.

“Hotel,” He answers softly, “I rented a room so you can get dressed and meet me in the restaurant for dinner.”

Renting a room? On a second date?

“Oh…” You mumble, trying to figure out if you needed to clarify your boundaries for him again.

You don’t get the chance, the door opens and you have to busy yourself with stepping out instead of addressing your concerns.

He extends his hand for you to take, and you do so eagerly, aching even more when you feel his large hand interlocked with yours.

It’s almost like you’re his omega, walking beside him as he confidently guides you into the hotel, nodding at reception and heading straight to the elevators.

The doors close and you can feel your body throbbing. Was he expecting more from you than you were ready for?

“William?”

“Yes, Omega?”

You blink, looking up at him, unable to voice the words, the topic of conversation is too sensitive, the words can barely leave your mouth. Your mind races to find something else to ask.

“Do you- um- live around here?”

He tilts his head for a moment, maybe sensing your hesitation.

“Not really, I live close to where I work, home to office you know?”

You nod, smiling, before facing forward once more, a slither of discomfort in your spine.

You can feel his eyes on you, no doubt trying to read you while you debate whether this was a good idea or not.

When the doors slide open, he begins speaking again.

“I hired a stylist, to help, if that’s okay, I didn’t want to overwhelm you.” He guides you down a well lit hallway, and stops at a door before turning to face you.

“Is this okay? Or is it too much?” He questions softly, and you dip your head, unable to meet his eyes.

“It’s a bit much.” You mumble, looking down at your shoes.

He bends his body, smiling as he manages to fit his head into your line of sight, it pulls a small smile from you too.

“If you could bear with me, omega.” He whispers so softly that the words kick off a yearning need in your head, “I have a surprise that will hopefully make up for it.”

You tilt your head up, and he moves, straightening his body to remain in your line of sight.

“Okay.” You surrender, trying to allow yourself to be swept up by him, even temporarily.

He gives you a pleased smile, hindbrain preening in response that you’ve made alpha happy. He turns, knocking on the door.

After a few moments, an omega with a kind smile opens the door. He introduces her as Maria, and you spare him one more glance before you step into the room, nodding when he says he’ll see you on the roof in two hours.

The elevator plays soft music as you travel upward, the sound of your own breathing heavy in your ear.

You weren't sure you'd picked the right dress, a little self conscious that you'd chosen something that might be too juvenile.

The strawberry dress had been too beautiful, your eyes had been drawn to it the moment you saw it, and no matter how hard you tried to convince Maria that it was a bad idea, she'd insisted that you picked the dress you most loved.

You really did like it, the tulle and the colour, and the cut of the dress going so low that you'd skipped your bra and used boob tape to hold your cleavage in place.

You weren't sure how painful removal would be, Maria had suggested baby oil, you just hope you had some at home.

She'd fixed your hair into soft curls, and she was really nice about what you liked and didn't, and by the end of it, she felt more like a friend helping you than a stylist being paid to do so.

The elevator doors open, and you cautiously step out. You take a deep breath through your nose, catching the faded scent of him, and following it.

Down a short hallway, and into a large open restaurant space. It was quiet, void of anyone, tables and booths empty.

You frown a little, confused as to why a restaurant this opulent would be closed. Sure, it was still daylight out on a weekday, but it didn't make sense to you on a business level.

The entire restaurant is surrounded by floor to ceiling windows, with a large pane of glass in the middle of the room, blurry with falling water.

The soft sound invites you, and as you get closer, You make out a wavy silhouette behind the glass.

You step around it, finding William facing the window, looking down at his phone.

He's dressed pristinely in a dark blue shirt, black pants and shoes, though the top buttons on his shirt are open, giving off a more casual vibe than his work shirt from earlier.

You watch him take a slow breath, and then lift his head in realisation, turning to look at you.

You smile at him as he turns, fitting his phone into his pocket in one swift moment, slowly approaching you.

He doesn't say anything, and you're too afraid to see repulsion in his eyes to keep looking at him, so instead you study his attire as well, admiring the way he looks, noticing the delicate silver chain shimmering around his neck as he moves.

He says your name, and you glance up at him with wide eyes as he stands before you.

He takes another slow breath, and raises a hand to push some of your hair away from your scent gland, the tips of his fingers just gently brushing it, eliciting an almost violent shiver of pleasure.

“You look…” He lets out an amused breath, shakes his head slightly, “I can’t find the right word. Beautiful? Divine? Bewitching. Radiant...”

Delight bubbles inside of you until you can't resist a pleased smile.

“Thank you, Alpha, you look very nice too.”

When you say his title, you watch his eyes darken, his scent growing a little stronger in the space between you as his body calls out to yours.

You can feel it, the heat between you, the promise that he would take care of your every need no matter what.

“Hungry?” He asks, and you swear his words have a double meaning.

You nod, because you can't say it out loud, that you were starving, famished, not just for food but for the pleasure of his company, for the pleasure of him.

He guides you to the far end of the restaurant, towards a secluded corner, where there's a table waiting for you.

You don’t get a chance to study the table because you’re distracted by a large… object covered in a velvet shroud.

You walk around the object, preoccupied with it, turning to look at William with your eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“It’s my surprise,” He explains, stepping closer to you so that you can breathe him in, “I hope you like it.”

You look at it, the velvet shroud going up high, hanging precariously from the ceiling you think, one firm tug might bring it down.

When you look back at him, he’s got his eyes on you.

“When can I see what it is?” You ask eagerly.

He blinks, as if coming back to himself, glancing at the object as if he’s just remembered it.

“Take a step back,” He instructs, waiting until you comply to give another directive with a low voice.

“Close your eyes.”

Your heart pounds, excitement and anxiety war within you, the former winning over as you let your eyes close.

You hear footsteps, and then a tug, the sound of the shroud falling and the wind it generates as it does, caressing your face.

There’s a moment of silence, where your impatience fights you to open your eyes before he says, but you try your best to wait for William’s permission.

“You can open them now.”

You gasp in shock when you recognise what you’re looking at.

There’s so much gold, the painting glimmers in the light of the falling sun, you take a step forward, unsure of where to begin your examination.

You tilt your head, studying the little flowers first, eyes roaming up to examine the clothing of the two subjects in the portrait, then the hands, the different colours, the flowers in her hair, the leaves in his.

A larger, male subject, pressing a kiss onto his lover’s cheek.

The Kiss, by Gustav Klimt.

“It’s beautiful, so much like the real one.” You murmur absentmindedly.

“It is the real one.”

You pause, unable to register his words, before turning to him in shock, lips parted.

The alpha’s pleased expression grows into a smile.

“What do you mean this is the real one? The real one’s in Europe somewhere.”

He nods, as if to agree with you.

“Vienna, yes.”

You turn to examine the painting once more.

“...How?...Why?”

“I think you’ll find that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make your eyes glitter like they are right now.”

Me? You think in shock, looking away, down, towards the floor, unable to process the implications of his words.

He takes a step closer to you, catching your attention, you turn to him just as he reaches you.

For a long moment, all you do is look into each other’s eyes. You take a slow breath, breathing in his citrus smell, the bergamot chasing after you.

You turn your head back to the painting, studying it while you feel his eyes on you.

“It’s gorgeous, Alpha, thank you.” You feel so much emotion, that it fills your throat and threatens to spill out.

Your lip wobbles, glancing up at him for a moment, and then turning away when you realise that he can probably see the tears in your eyes.

You feel his hand on your arm.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Why the tears?”

“It’s stupid, sorry.” You take a deep breath, sighing when he extends a handkerchief to you that you accept gratefully.

His hand moves, to wrap around your back, pulling you into his chest.

“Talk to me.” He whispers, his breath disturbing your hair.

“No one’s ever-” You let out a little laugh of delirium, “-No one’s ever done something so thoughtful for me.”

He hums, as though he understands, sympathizes with you, he wraps his arms around you, tucks your head into his chest.

His scent wraps around you, soothing you almost instantly, your eyes flutter shut as you register the beat of his heart below your ear.

“I just wanted to see you smile.” He says.

You do.

Dinner comes in a few moments later, and he guides you to the table just behind, with soft, comfortable chairs to settle into. He even checks in on your level of ease, inquiring about the brightness, and whether or not it was satisfactory. You smile softly, calmly reassuring him that the area was perfect, the tint on the windows keeping the intensity of the light low. Dim and comfortable, you can’t really ask for anything more.

The first course is a light broth, and you're a little confused that they brought this out without having you look at a menu.

It's definitely refreshing, to not have to struggle with a decision on what to eat, but you're not sure if to ask William about it, in case it's just some rich person custom that you're unfamiliar with.

In any case, this arrangement pleases you because it means you can stare at The Kiss in admiration while the sun sets, casting a soft orange glow around the room, enhancing the mostly gold painting.

“Will you tell me about it?” William asks, and you spare a shy glance at him.

He tilts his head in the direction of the painting. You swallow your food, gathering your thoughts to answer.

“It's inspired by the painter and his lover, it's one of the most popular paintings of an alpha and omega pairing. There was a… speculation that they were soulmates, but I'm not sure how true that is. Some people think that because the omega is turning away, that the kiss isn't consensual… but I don't think so, she seems… happy to me.”

“You don't think they were soulmates?”

You turn to William.

“Not really, I don't… believe in the soulmate theory.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“No?” He says curiously.

You shake your head.

“It's a little unreal to think that there’s some kind of perfect match for a person.”

“It's not necessarily a perfect match like in the movies, it's a suggestion of… compatibility really.” He says.

You blink, studying his expression, wanting to express your disbelief that he would believe in something so farfetched but not wanting to be disrespectful.

“It's not even a perfect match, it's the way the theory specifically targets alpha and omega pairings. As if omegas aren't already bound by their biology enough, someone had to come up with an idea to hold us back even further by romanticising the concept of an alpha match.” You keep your tone calm, so that he understands you're not upset.

He tilts his head in contemplation.

“You don't like the idea of being with an alpha?”

You swallow.

“That's… not what I mean. I just don't like being forced into thinking that it's my only option in search of companionship.”

He makes a face of contemplation, seeming to understand where you were coming from.

Plus, it was a trick alphas had used with you in the past to encourage you to stay in toxic environments.

Don't give up on us, omega, we're soulmates, I can feel it.

You had been fooled before, it would not happen again.

William studies you for a long moment, and you gaze back evenly, before he smiles, tilting his head once more to lighten the mood.

“You make a good point, but still, I can’t help but point out the ways alphas are made for omegas, of course a pairing between them would be stronger.”

His words take you aback, it's the first time someone has ever made the comment that alphas are the ones made for omegas, usually they say it the other way around.

“Maybe…” You concede, unable to stop yourself from thinking about his words. You wonder for a brief moment if he was made for you.

It sends a warm feeling across your chest.

You turn your head, looking up at The Kiss.

“My past experience has made me skeptical about the entire theory, Alphas before have used it to keep me compliant.”

He lets out an audible breath, and when you turn your head to look at him, you find his fists curled and his head dipped low.

The scent of anger hits you, spicy in the air, like a mix between smoke and hot peppers.

“Alpha?” You whisper in concern, worried that his anger is directed toward you.

Tentatively, you reach out, fingers shaking slightly as you touch one of his clenched fists.

He relaxes the fist, turns his hand upward so that his palm is pressed upward into yours. Your palm tingles where you touch.

“Angry on your behalf, omega,” He tries to explain with a low voice, “You shouldn't have had to go through that.”

Realisation washes over you. The smell of his anger excites you now that you understand it's not directed at you.

You feel butterflies, you feel warmth, you suck in a deep breath to get some semblance of control over your hindbrain.

“Thank you, Alpha.” Your voice, almost a purr.

He blinks, studying you, his eyes shifting from surprise to pleased as he realises the effect he has on you.

The sound of footsteps coming your way makes you draw back.

The second course is lobster pasta, creamy and delicious and you try extra hard not to make yourself messy while eating it.

“What do you think?” He asks between bites of his food.

You look up, eyes wide as he gazes back at you.

You swallow your food, thinking hard about what to say.

“I'm still skeptical about the soulmate theory, but maybe you're right that it does exist. Looking at the painting up close, you see that gold aura surrounding both of them? I think that's supposed to represent their bond. They loved each other, there's no question there.”

You watch a smile pull onto his perfect face.

“I meant the meal, sweetheart.”

Your face grows warm.

“Oh… It's good!” You look down at the plate shyly, “Yeah.”

He chuckles.

“You're very cute when you're shy.”

You bite the edge of your lip, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

He grins down at you and something warm settles in your stomach. You wanted to kiss him.

Maybe you could, maybe he would let you.

In this beautiful dress you feel like you're not yourself, your insecurities washing away under his gaze. For the first time, you’re just an omega, enjoying the company of an alpha that you hope could be yours in time.

You think about being in his arms, the way he makes you feel, his ability to soothe you, the ways you hope he would sate you.

You suck in a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before your pheromones give away your needy state of mind.

Should you take him up on his offer to be his Omega? Would it be possible to balance that? How would it even work?

“William?” You say softly.

He pauses his movements to look at you.

“Earlier- Maria called you ‘Billy’- made me wonder if you were friends?”

The corner of his lips pull into an affectionate smile, you try really hard not to worry about the other omega.

“Maria is mated to my brother, Frank. She owns a small salon on the east side, I thought she would help you feel comfortable.”

That's so thoughtful, you think.

“Yes, she was amazing, thank you.”

If this was a trap, then it was well set, you couldn't see a flaw, you didn't have any reason to think he could be like other Alphas.

“Everyone has called me “Billy” for as long as I can remember. My real name had never really appealed to me until I heard you say it.”

You give him a warm smile, your stomach fluttering at the privilege you didn't realize you had until now.

You wanted this so much that it terrified you. To be his Omega- what would it be like? To have unrestrained access to him, to be able to scent him as you please, to be scented in return.

He sucks in a sharp breath, leaning away, it catches your attention. Your eyes widen when you realise your pheromones are heavy in the air.

His eyes roll shut, he lets out a shaky breath, fingers curling because of you for the second time tonight.

It doesn't help, the look of him, barely restrained, fighting his nature with every ounce of self control only makes you want him more.

“I'm sorry.” You whisper, scared to break his focus.

He lets out a breath, a smile pulling the corner of his mouth. The look of leashed delirium in his eyes when he finally opens them.

“Don't be.” He responds, his voice so deep that it almost makes you shiver with how pleasing it sounds.

You suck in deep breaths too, to calm yourself, eyes drifting to the painting to let it distract you.

You certainly were a match, there was no question about it, the urge to tear at each other was there, the only thing holding you back was social etiquette, and your internal reservations.

The effect your heat must have had on him- you almost feel sorry for what you might have put him through.

Dessert is a caramel drizzled pecan cookie, soft and chewy, the right amount of spices and sugar that makes you lick your fingers afterwards with the knowledge that it was the best cookie you've ever had.

You catch him looking at you with kind eyes and you try your best not to shy away from his gaze.

When you excuse yourself to the restroom, you try to look like you know where you're going, at least until you're out of his eyesight, and then you wander around the empty restaurant until you find a sign pointing you in the right direction.

You’re in one of the stalls when you hear loud voices and footsteps.

“-my god! That is literally the hottest Alpha I’ve ever seen in real life.” A first voice says, on the side of a little too high pitched for your sensitive ears.

“I knoooow,” The other person responds, “I would literally do anything he asked me to do.”

You pause, feeling a little strange to interrupt their obviously personal conversation by stepping out.

“I heard from Tim that he rented out the entire restaurant for the night just to impress some omega.”

Wait, were they talking about William?

You hear the stall next to you open and close, the taps turning on.

“No, I think they had to clear the restaurant for the night because of the painting and something about security.”

“Oh, that makes sense, the amount he must have paid to get all that done in one evening. God, I would jump him literally after dessert.”

You hear a groan, the sound of water as the taps turn on.

“I know right? I’ve been totally scenting the air in hopes that he gives me a second look. Nothing too obvious, only subtle enough for him. I really, really hope…”

The rest is unintelligible as the voices fade.

You wait a few more moments to make sure they’re really gone before you unlatch the door and step out.

It’s a lot of information to have overheard, and you’re not really sure what to think.

You step up to the sink, washing your hands methodically, reaching for a little towel to dry your hands, before looking up at your reflection in the mirror.

You smile at yourself, hindbrain preening that Alpha had gone through such lengths to capture and hold your attention. That maybe, Alpha wanted you, really really wanted you and no other omega would do.

He’s standing at the painting when you see him again, the table has been cleared, and you watch him as he focuses on the canvas in front of him.

He turns to look at you when he catches movement in his peripherals.

You’re very skittish to approach him, your mind spinning at a mile a minute, trying to both overthink and under simplify the actions you want to make.

The expression on your face must worry him, his eyebrows draw together as he studies you.

“Is everything alright?” He asks calmly, and you lift your head, studying his face of concentration.

You part your lips, trying to speak, no words able to leave your moving lips.

He dips his head, trying to make sense of the nothingness escaping you.

His scent fills your nose, the citrus, the bergamot, a very new touch of spice that pushes your hindbrain into desperation.

“Alpha.” You whisper softly, a touch of yearning in your voice, tilting your head up to press your lips to his.

It’s an instant, and total erasure of any higher thought. The way his mouth feels against yours, like something ancient and primal finding its way back to each other again. A familiarity that your mind and body has been searching for from the day you presented.

It’s over too soon, even though it feels like it lasted forever. Time slows as you lean away, looking up at him, searching his eyes for any sign that you’ve made the wrong move, the ghost of his touch tingling at your lips.

You listen to the depth of his breathing, your heart hammering anxiously in your chest, awaiting his reaction. You catch a flare of his scent, the citrus notes deepening and your hindbrain eases your anxiety, a response that tells you that Alpha is pleased.

Finally, he makes a low hum, stepping forward, one arm winding around your back so that your bodies are pressed flush to each other.

“Omega.” He rumbles in response, fingers under your chin to tilt your head, guiding your mouth to his once more.

His mouth is insistent, pressing back, meeting every move of your desire with a response of his own. He moans, his warm breath on your tongue as the kiss grows into something… more.

Losing yourself, your hands cling to his shoulders, finding balance as you rise onto your toes, desperate to taste him, to feel the ache of yearning ease with each move of his mouth.

His lips are soft, sinful, you can feel his barely restrained movements, his hand gliding to grip the back of your neck, trapping you in place as if you could ever think about departing from his embrace.

Your scent gland tingles, spilling your need into the air, your body trying its best to entice him.

His mouth grows more insistent, demanding, and you find yourself responding, lips parting, tongue reaching out to gently graze along his bottom lip.

His hold on you tightens, fingers gripping your hip deliciously, desire pooling low in your stomach in response.

Both of his hands cup your face, kisses slowing as if he's trying to find the strength to stop but unable to.

You smile into the kisses, each one more meaningful than the last, until finally he pauses, looking down at you with a pleased expression on his face.

His thumb glides along your lips, the scent of both your desires intermingling heavily in the air.

“I take it then, that you don't want me to leave you alone after this?”

You huff out a laugh, almost rolling your eyes.

He grins too, before leaning in to get one more kiss.

“Maybe,” you murmur softly, “Maybe I don't.”

He hums in agreement, dipping his head, unable to stop himself from getting yet another kiss.

Your heart feels so full in your chest, it feels like you're going to burst with the flood of emotion. He doesn't push you into anything, avoids touching your scent glands though you know you both want him to. You can feel his fingers tightening their grip on your cheek and jaw, trying their hardest not to wander.

His scent grows more potent in the room, and by the time you leave, the betas in the restaurant are giving him their largest doe eyed stares.

It's a shame for them that he barely spares them a glance, his hand settled on the small of your back to put you at ease by making you feel protected.

His scent overwhelms you in the car, but you've been aching and wet for a while and you've just kind of gotten used to the discomforts of unresolved desire. You know without a doubt that you're going to have to relieve this ache inside of you by yourself tonight, and it's definitely going to be his name on your tongue the entire time you do it.

You take a long look at him beside you, and you wonder if he would be doing the same.

Tucked into his side, it's easy to tilt your head up, and press your nose to his scent gland, breathing him in, hearing him groan in response, your body tingling.

He doesn't stop you, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip hard to stop yourself from kissing the spot on the base of his neck.

It's surreal, the time you spend with him, that when he stops at the wrong building, it's like a punch to the gut.

This is where you'd lied and told him you lived… because you were ashamed of your real address.

“Can I walk you to your door?” He asks politely, warm reassurance in his eyes that he simply wants to make sure you're safe.

“No.” You answer hastily, smiling in an attempt to put him at ease, “I'm alright, thank you.”

You glance down at your strawberry dress, anxiety filling you at the thought of being seen in something like this, that it might catch attention you didn't want.

“It's cold outside, do you want my coat?”

You blink up at him in surprise.

He gives you a teasing smile, reaching for a garment on the seat in front of him, producing a familiar coat and extending it to you.

You swallow, accepting the coat on autopilot, face heating as you remember the things you did with this coat during your last heat.

You bring it up to your nose, hindbrain in control, taking a slow inhale of his scent.

Fuck, it was delicious. Your mouth waters as you meet his dark eyes.

“Thank you, Alpha.” You purr, sliding the coat on, over your dress, watching his eyes darken further at the sound of your voice.

He reaches up, trapping a lock of your hair between his fingers, twisting it, tugging on it gently as his hand slides down.

He looks like he’s deep in thought, but you’re just not sure about what.

“Goodnight, Omega.” He finally says, after a few moments of silence.

Stepping out of the car, leaving him behind, your limbs grow heavy with protest the further away you get from him.

When you make it into the building, you finally see his SUV drive away.

There’s an ache to leaving you behind that leaves Billy both confused and captivated.

He lets out a slow breath, sinking into the seat, head tipped back.

Keeping himself in check had been the most difficult thing he’d ever experienced. To look at you, was to want you, and to want you, was to need you. Every look, every touch, every smile on your mouth was a lesson in self control.

He was unbelievably afraid of scaring you away, that his control would slip, and his desires would show, and they would terrify you into leaving.

The ways he wanted you, the ways he thought about you. He lets out a soft groan, tugging at his shirt to get himself more air, but all he can smell is you.

He wants the feel of your bare hips in his hands, the taste of your skin in his mouth, his lips over your scent gland, your pitiful little whines filling his ears as he takes his time with you, discovering every way one human can make another fall apart, so that he can put you back together again.

Thoughts, that were maybe too insane to be thinking after a second date. Thoughts that would make you run if you knew just how close he’d been to actually carrying them out. No Omega, had ever made him hurt with the fear of rejection quite like this before.

That solid ache in his chest to be in your presence was only getting stronger, and then you'd kissed him.

He lifts a hand, pressing it to his mouth, remembering the way your lips had felt, the way your scent had sweetened. He resists a groan, your scent calling out to him like a beacon in the dark.

With his eyes closed, he could feel a pull, drawing him in the opposite direction of where he was going.

His apartment is lonely. The silence is loud, the smell is all wrong. He fits himself into his single sofa chair, large enough that his pretty Omega could fit herself into the space beside him, or on top of him if she’d like. He sips on the whiskey in his hand, an attempt to ease his nerves, to make the wrongness of his place feel a little less so.

He lets the silence fill him, wonders what you’re doing, thinks about texting you. He opens his phone and sees all his sent messages.

Billy hesitates.

Maybe he should wait, let you reach out this time, whenever you were ready.

Puts his phone down, thinks about you more, groans when he catches your scent on his clothes.

It hurt to wait. It made his chest burn with the notion that he couldn’t just reach out to you, because you might draw back.

He presses a hand to his chest, tries to take a deep breath and be patient.

The whiskey is almost finished when he feels his phone vibrate.

He picks it up, and smiles.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #my writings #Alpha!Billy Russo x Omega!Reader #Alpha!Billy Russo

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seelie-regent · 4 months ago

Text

Omegaverse CorrodedKing au

So Steve was close friends with the whole group throughout elementary and middle school. You literally never saw Steve without at least one of them. They did everything together and knew everything about each other. They didn't keep secrets from each other and were never apart for more than 12 hours at a time. When they formed Corroded Coffin in sixth grade Steve was their vocalist.

Steve's parents didn't exactly like it but didn't do anything about it. Figuring Steve would grow out of them. Mature and realize they weren't up to par to be around someone with the status of a Harrington. Figuring that when Steve presented as an alpha like they expected their little group would fall apart. Except Steve doesn't present as an alpha. He presents almost a year later than he was expected to as an omega less than a month before he's supposed to start high school.

His parents are furious. Especially since the rest of the band has already presented as alpha's. His parents forbid him from seeing them again. Steve tries to argue but it's shut down almost instantly with a threat to have him sent to an omega finishing school out of state. Not even a week after Steve presents his parents are looking into ways to hide his designation while seeing if there are any alpha's to marry Steve off to once he's of age that will benefit them.

So with no choice but to bow to his parents wishes he's forced to cut contact with the band and go on suppressants and wear false scent patches to make him seem like an alpha. He's forced into befriending Tommy and Carol who are the kids of his parents 'business partners. They force him to toss everything related to the band. Pictures, clothes, gifts, books, and everything related to D&D.

On top of everything Steve is made aware that Tommy and Carol are to report everything he does back to his parents. So he knows he won't get a chance to explain anything to the band.

Come the start of Steve's freshman year and the bands confused and devastated for Steve's "abandonment" of them. Their hurt turns to anger that they take out on Steve in whatever ways they can. Constantly talking about how they should have expected it given Steve's parents. Steve, desperate for a distraction, throws himself into sports and partying. Which the band uses as further "proof" of Steve being evil.

It doesn't take long for Steve to develop rejection sickness from the bands constant taunts. Not that he blames them. He knows how it looks. He wishes he could explain. But he can't. Better to be around them and see them even if they hate him then to never see them again.

It doesn't take long for Carol who's also an omega to realize what's happened. And to Steve and her own surprise she does her best to help him. They might not be able to go against their parents but they can redirect Tommy and his friends attention. They can be there for each other.

Steve does end up dating Nancy still. Seeing bits of the boys in her. She's nerdy like them, albeit in a different way. She's got the same big eyes and fluffy curls Eddie has. She's got Gareth's anger that she desperately tries to hide. She's got Jeff's determination. She's got Doug's sense of humor. And Steve misses them so much. And at this point Nancy may as well be as close as he'll ever have to having his boys, his alpha's, back.

Things still fall apart. Steve finds the courage to break away from Tommy except this time Carol goes with him. And he still tries to cling to Nancy, to the pieces of his alpha's that she has, and it's still bullshit come Halloween. What Steve isn't expecting when he comes into school the day after Halloween though is for his secret to be out. For Tommy to have told Billy as revenge when he saw Carol leaving with Steve and trying to comfort him. For Billy to have told the whole school. He and Carol leave as soon as they hear people talking about it. Scared to deal with the fallout of this.

The band started putting the pieces together as soon as they heard what everyone was saying. The more they think about it the more pieces they realize they're missing. It's when they really start to think about what they remember of Steve's parents. That they finally look back and think about Steve constantly looking at them. The longing in his eyes every time. How the looks of pain they always agreed were just wishful thinking when he would watch them. How they had written off the look of Steve's face every time one of them made a comment. How Steve always seemed a little off. How he seemed sick more often than he ever was when they were kids. And all the pieces they're putting together make them almost sick with regret. Desperate to fix it but horrified to realize they don't know how.

Dustin still stumbles upon Steve however Carol is with him this time. So it's Steve and Carol who face the demodogs to protect the kids. When Billy shows up and Steve tries to make him leave he propositions Steve. Steve laughs in his face, because seriously who did he think he was, which only serves to further piss Billy off as he storms into the house. Steve still gets beat to shit but Carol breaks Billy's nose when throwing things at him to try and get him away from Steve giving Max the distraction to knock him out.

Come school the following week everyone has heard some version of the story or another. The band can't decide which version is worse. The one closest to the truth, that Billy attacked Steve while he was babysitting after he turned him down, or that it was Steve's parents furious that the secret had gotten out. Steve's fairly certain the only reason that one isn't true is because he parents still haven't returned home. The band is desperate to apologize but still can't figure out how. Even if they wanted to the Party is keeping Steve so busy that they wouldn't be able to get a minute alone with him. Which might have been Carol's fault. She had accidentally let slip that the band was why Steve had rejection sickness while at the hospital and the kids had misunderstood and taken it as the band had done something to hurt Steve. Any time one of them tries to get Steve outside of school one of the kids suddenly pops up needing something. Dustin, Max, and surprisingly enough Mike are the worst ones about it.

Meanwhile Steve has no idea. He has no clue the party is keeping his away from Corroded Coffin. And he has no idea that his boys are trying to apologize. After several weeks Corroded Coffin starts to think Steve does know though. That it was Steve's idea. (It was Mike's) That Steve really doesn't want them around anymore and that this time it's their fault for being so casually and constantly cruel to him. So they back off.

Then comes summer. Steve and Carol working at Scoops. Carol falling for Robin. Robin oblivious and falling for Carol. And Steve and Robin becoming Steve&Robin one day early in summer when Steve accidentally tells her about Corroded Coffin and the truth of his rejection sickness. Then come the Russians. And truth serum. And Carol and Robin getting together. And Steve talking about how he dated Nancy because of everything she reminded him of. Completely unaware of the fact that his boys were right there.

Eddie has smelled Steve a scent the whole band was familiar with thanks to school and hanging around Scoops. Eddie had followed and seen Steve once more beat to shit and rushed to get the rest of the band so they could try and help their omega. Because maybe Steve didn't want them around but they couldn't just leave him like that. So the band walks in at the perfect moment. To hear Carol and Robin pull the full story from him. They're overjoyed to be proven wrong and devastated to hear what Steve says.

The rest plays out more or less the same and the band drags Steve to the hospital. Once he's released they finally talk things out. Steve refuses to accept an apology for any of it and they refuse all of his.

It's not till they tell the kids that the band learns complete truth. The kids are pissed that Steve would date the band much to Steve's confusion. He ends up learning about the small misunderstanding sprouted from Carol's poor explanation. After that the kids are completely on board with the relationship. Dustin latching onto Eddie and Will deciding Gareth is his favorite.

A year and a half later Steve's parents show up having finally found out about the last several years of Hawkins chaos. However they can't do anything. Steve had mated the band and moved out almost year before they show up leaving them with nothing to hold over Steve's head.

Steve can't imagine a timeline where he's happier. He has his boys back. His alpha's. And he gained a best friend, platonic soulmate, and a small pack of chaotic teenagers. There's nothing more he could imagine wanting.

#steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #steve x eddie #stranger things au #omega steve harrington #carol perkins #gareth emerson #jeff stranger things #nancy wheeler #corroded coffin #corroded king #this end up so much longer than it was supposed to be

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celestialgallaghers · 26 days ago

Text

Double Dare Ya [18+]

I realize this follows a similar pattern to my last post, but I love the enemies to lovers trope what can I say. The truth or dare trope is also overdone but this is MY fictional story and I make the rules.

Also the title is from the Bikini Kill song, which really has no relevance to the plot but popped into my head when I was trying to think of a name for this.

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Summary: Your friend introduces you to Noel at a club, and you clash with him almost immediately. You want nothing to do with him, but something about your refusal to fall for his charms piques his interest.

Word count: 7.1k

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You were never sure what to expect when Jo invited you out. She was always more outgoing than you, more embedded in the scene, so you’d at least figured it would be a typical night. Loud, chaotic, and full of people who thought themselves far more interesting than they actually were.

What you didn’t expect was Noel Gallagher.

You knew who he was, obviously. Oasis was everywhere. You liked their music well enough, but you never thought you’d come face to face with any of them. Apparently, that was changing tonight.

The club was dimly lit and buzzing with noise when you arrived. Jo spotted some of her friends and immediately dragged you over, squealing as she hugged them. You offered a small wave, recognizing a few faces from previous outings. They weren’t really your crowd. Often fake, too caught up in their own self-importance, and quick to look down their noses at anyone not dressed head to toe in designer.

Jo, at least, was genuine. You’d known her forever, watching as she clawed her way up from nothing to a high class career as an event planner. These people had connections, the kind that could make or break her career. So, as much as you disliked them, you kept your mouth shut.

Sliding into the booth beside her, you already felt out of place. You indulged her with these nights out every so often, but they always ended the same. You’d drink more than intended just to tolerate the company.

“Noel!” Jo cried suddenly. “This is my best friend.”

You turned just in time to see none other than Noel Gallagher approaching, a leggy blonde in tight clothing clinging to his arm. You weren’t quite sure what to make of him. Instinctively, you were wary of fame. It could go either way. Some celebrities turned out to be just regular people, while others were so self-important they refused to come down from their high horse. Right now, you were inclined to believe Noel fell into the latter category.

He barely glanced at you, offering a quick nod of acknowledgment before sliding into the seat across from you. “Alright?”

You nodded back, polite but unenthusiastic. You had no real interest in getting to know him. There was an air of arrogant indifference about him that immediately put you off.

Drinks appeared suddenly, and you gladly grabbed one, taking a long sip. This was going to be a long night.

As the evening dragged on, you found yourself saying less and less. Not because you were shy, but because you couldn’t relate to the conversation. Industry gossip, name-dropping, pointless chatter about who had fallen out with who. It was monotonous.

The blonde Noel was toting around was now perched in his lap, lavishing him with attention. You tried to ignore them, but her incessant (and no doubt fake) giggling cut through any and all conversation, making it impossible.

Jo and her friends had gone off to dance, and no matter how many times she pouted, you kept turning her down. This left you alone at the booth, spare a few of Noel’s friends at the opposite end and, of course, Noel himself.

You slid down the booth, making an effort to talk to his friends, but they didn’t really seem interested. Resigning yourself, you leaned back, sipping your drink, half-listening to the conversations around you.

At one point, your gaze flickered toward Noel and the blonde, now fiercely locked in a kiss, if you could even call it that. Her hands roamed over him, and she giggled whenever he squeezed her ass. You knew you shouldn’t be watching really, it felt borderline voyeuristic, but there was something fascinating about the sheer display of hedonism that surrounded the “rock star” ethos. Like he was playing a role simply because he could. Because it was easy.

Suddenly, as if he was sensing your gaze, his eyes opened and locked onto yours.

Instinct told you to look away, but you refused to let him intimidate you. Unfortunately, your defiance only seemed to amuse him. His kisses slowed as he lazily caressed the blonde’s breast, clearly testing your reaction.

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you drained your drink, rising to get another. When you returned, the blonde was gone.

“Care to take her place?” The words stopped you in your tracks. You spun to find Noel smirking up at you. He leaned back, spreading his legs expectantly.

You paused, staring at him in disbelief.

“I’ll pass, thanks,” you said dryly, moving to leave. But before you could, he reached out, fingers wrapping gently around your wrist.

Your gaze dropped to where his hand gripped your arm. His thumb was idly brushing against your skin, as if that alone would entice you. A short, bemused laugh escaped you as you yanked your arm free.

“You really think you can get any woman to fall at your feet on command?”

“Oh I know I can, love,” he said, tilting his head, regarding you with amusement. “Saw you watching us. I know you're interested.”

His all-knowing tone and self-satisfied smirk made your blood boil. Despite yourself, warmth crept into your face, but thankfully it was dark enough that he wouldn’t notice. You were starting to wish you hadn’t done that. It had gotten his attention, and now he was running with it.

You scoffed. “I was only staring because I’ve never seen someone so desperate to prove he’s the archetypical rock star. Do you even know that girl's name?”

He thought for a moment before grinning. “Not the foggiest.”

“My point exactly.” You narrowed your eyes. “You just use women and toss them aside the minute they stop serving a purpose.”

“What can I say?” he said with a shrug, eyes flickering down your body before meeting your gaze again. “Comes with the job title. Sex, drugs, and rock n roll. That’s the package.”

“Yeah, well, you're not as charming as you think, believe it or not,” you shot back, before turning on your heel to find Jo. Dancing was seeming far more appealing than wasting another minute on his arrogance.

Noel watched you go, but you’d made your mark. And he was never one to back down from a challenge.

Another drink deep, and the atmosphere was starting to suffocate you. You needed fresh air. And a cigarette.

Outside, the night air was sharp against your skin, a welcome contrast to the thick heat of the club. You leaned against the wall, fishing a cigarette from your pack and placing it between your lips.

You’d just flicked your lighter open when the door swung wide, noise spilling out before it slammed shut again.

“Got one for me?”

You exhaled sharply through your nose. Noel.

Had he followed you out here? Christ, all you’d wanted was a quiet moment alone.

Glancing at him, you sighed. He stood there, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, as if he already knew you’d say yes.

“All that money, and you don’t have your own?”

He just shrugged, a smirk ghosting over his lips.

You wanted to lie, to tell him it was your last one so he’d leave you alone, but for some reason, you didn’t. With another sigh, you extended your pack.

“Got a light?” His smirk deepened.

“Jesus, want me to smoke it for you too?” you muttered.

You flicked the lighter open and held the flame out for him. He leaned in, taking his time, inhaling slowly as his gaze flicked up to yours. The brief glow of the flame caught in his eyes, making them seem even brighter, more piercing.

He took another drag, eyes closing as he relished the rush of nicotine. For a fleeting second, he wasn’t Noel Gallagher, just a man taking a quiet drag of a cigarette. Just existing.

Then he opened his mouth again.

“I meant what I said earlier, y'know. ‘Bout replacing her. Think you’d look good in my lap.”

Irritation flared in your chest. “Have I not made it abundantly clear that I’m not interested?”

He didn’t even blink. “Nah. You’re just stubborn.”

You let out a short, incredulous laugh. “You really do think you’re irresistible, don’t you?”

Noel leaned in slightly, dropping his voice to something low and smooth. “I don’t think, love. I know.”

Then, his gaze dipped lower, a slow, deliberate sweep before flicking back up. It was then you realized your nipples had peaked against your top thanks to the chill in the air.

His smirk turned downright wicked.

“Cold?”

You folded your arms across your chest and shot him a glare. “Oh, piss off.”

He laughed, exhaling smoke, eyes glinting with mischief. “I would, but I’m having too much fun.”

“This is fun to you?”

He took another drag from his cigarette, savoring it before slowly releasing the smoke. “Oh yeah,” he murmured, voice low. “Watching you try to pretend you don’t want me? It’s riveting.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “You're deluded if you think this”—you gestured between the two of you—“is me pretending. I’m not interested. You're only here because I’m not giving you what you want.”

He leaned in slightly, voice smooth, teasing. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But I think you're a lot more fun than you let on. Bit of fire under that cool exterior, yeah?”

You met his gaze, a mocking smile tugging at your lips. “Could be. But you’ll never find out.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I’ve got a way of getting to know people, love. You wouldn’t believe the things I can figure out.”

You raised an eyebrow, arms still crossed, tension thick in the space between you. “Is that so? What, you think you’ve cracked the code already?”

He shrugged, taking another drag, eyes never leaving yours. “I think I’m just getting started.”

He was staring at you in a way that was making your skin prickle and you’d just about had enough. You flicked your cigarette away, crushing it under your heel aggressively.

“Yeah, well, don’t waste your time,” you spat vehemently. “I wouldn’t touch you in a million years.”

❦ ❦ ❦

A few months later, you got a call from Jo, her voice practically buzzing through the receiver.

“Hey! So, listen I have a plus one for this festival, and you’re coming with me.”

You raised an eyebrow, already suspicious. “What festival?”

“The one Oasis is playing at,” she said brightly.

Your stomach turned. You hadn’t seen Noel since that disastrous night out. The one that had confirmed, without a doubt, that he was exactly the pompous asshole the media made him out to be.

“C’mon, it’ll be amazing! Noel invited us.”

You scoffed. “He invited you. If I never see him again, it’ll be too soon.”

Jo groaned. “Why don’t you like him?”

You blinked. Was she serious?

“For starters, he’s an arrogant prick,” you said flatly.

“Oh, come on! If you actually got to know him, you’d see he’s not really like that.”

You let out a short laugh. “And why the hell would I want to do that?”

“Because,” she said, dragging the word out, “I think he likes you.”

You nearly choked. “Likes me? What gave you that idea?”

“He was flirting with you at that club.”

You scoffed again. “Please, that was all an act. He was just lookin’ for a shag.”

“I dunno,” she sing-songed. “He was asking about you after you left.”

You froze for half a second before shaking your head. “You’re delusional. There’s absolutely no way he was being genuine.”

Jo just hummed, like she wasn’t convinced but also wasn’t going to argue. “Okay, whatever you say.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. Something told you she wasn’t going to drop this.

“So, are you coming or what?”

You hesitated. You did like Oasis—as a band. It was just one particular member you had an issue with. Or, well, maybe two. You hadn’t met Liam yet, and god knows he’d probably be even worse than Noel.

“Fine,” you sighed.

Jo whooped so loudly you had to hold the phone away from your ear.

“This is going to be amazing!”

You exhaled, telling yourself it would be fine. Fun, even. But as you hung up, a weird feeling settled in your stomach.

❦ ❦ ❦

The festival arrived sooner than you’d expected. You planned to avoid Noel as much as feasibly possible. With thousands of people and dozens of bands, it shouldn’t be difficult. Jo had scored passes, and she practically dragged you through the festival grounds, buzzing with excitement as she led the way to the Oasis tent. They weren’t playing until later, and there were plenty of other artists you actually wanted to see in the meantime.

When you arrived, Noel was already there, leaning against a table, cigarette dangling between his fingers as he spoke to a reporter with an air of bored ease. You lingered at a distance, watching the way he gestured with his hands, flicking his cigarette as he spoke. There was something almost effortless about the way he carried himself. Like he knew the world revolved around him.

The interview wrapped up, and before you could make yourself scarce, his eyes landed on you. Jo had gone to grab drinks, and you cursed the timing. You considered walking away, but that felt too much like surrender.

Noel sauntered over, smirk already in place. “Fancy seeing you here, love.”

“I’m just here with Jo to enjoy the festival,” you said dryly, waving your hand in dismissal.

His smirk deepened. “Just here to enjoy the festival, eh? You don’t exactly look thrilled to see me.”

You scoffed. “And why would I be?”

Noel chuckled, feigning mock hurt. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe it’s because you’re in my band’s tent. You're welcome, by the way,” he teased. “I knew you'd be back for more.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. It was time to shut this down. “Y’know this is why I can’t stand you, Noel. You're so full of yourself that it’s nauseating. You walk around like you expect everyone to kiss your ass just ‘cause of who you are,” you snapped. “Get over yourself.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your outburst, but it didn’t seem to bother him much.

“Sweetheart,” he drawled, “you could hardly keep your eyes off me the last time we were in the same room and you know it.”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. “Really? That’s not what I’ve heard. In fact, I think you might be a little obsessed with me.”

Something flickered in his expression, just for a second. “Obsessed with you, huh?” he mused. “I was just tryin’ to show you a good time.”

“I can manage that on my own, thanks,” you shot back, finally turning on your heel. You weren’t sure why you’d even humored him that long. You should’ve walked away ages ago.

The day blurred into music, laughter, and the occasional warm buzz of beer. You and Jo wandered the festival grounds, catching different acts and soaking in the atmosphere. As the sun dipped lower and Oasis’s set time approached, Jo insisted on getting as close as possible—to Noel’s side of the stage, of course.

“I don’t get it,” you mused, genuinely perplexed as you stood beside her. “What do people even see in him?”

Jo laughed, taking a sip of her beer. “You mean aside from the fact that he’s insanely talented, handsome, and successful?”

As if on cue, the crowd erupted as Noel took his place on stage, fingers finding the strings of his guitar with practiced ease.

Jo nudged you. “And he’s got that whole swagger, don’t you think?”

You flicked your eyes toward him. “You call it swagger, I call it annoyingly self-absorbed,” you huffed.

Jo chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. “You know, it’s okay to admit you find him attractive,” she teased, giving you a knowing glance. “I see through your little act of indifference.”

You let out a shocked laugh. “All I see when I look at him is a self-assured prick.”

“Well, he is a self-assured prick, I’ll give you that. But you can at least admit he’s an attractive self-assured prick,” she challenged, waggling her brows at you.

You shook your head in disbelief and fixed your gaze elsewhere. The only thing you’d admit about Noel was that he was talented. That was all.

And yet, somehow, your gaze kept drifting back to him.

There was something different about the way he played. He looked completely lost in it, mind, body, and soul poured into his guitar. Sweat dripped down his face as he screwed it up in concentration. It seemed to be the only thing he was truly sincere about.

The way his mouth hung open as he played, fingers moving expertly across the fretboard, eyes slightly lidded—you supposed you could see why people found him attractive.

Not you, though. Obviously.

At some point, you’d wandered off through the festival grounds alone, the distant thump of music vibrating through the soles of your boots. The warm night air carried the scent of damp grass and spilled beer. Several hours had passed, and you figured it was time to head back before Jo started thinking you’d been kidnapped.

When you finally spotted her, she was already grinning. “We were just about to find a quiet spot for a joint. You’re coming,” she declared, grabbing your wrist before you could protest. And, well, you’d never been one to turn down free weed.

Jo dragged you across the field toward Noel and his usual entourage.

“Oi! Found our little lost lamb, did ya?” Noel called out as you approached.

Jo chuckled, plopping down on the grass beside him, where he was leaning back against a log. “Yeah, had to pry her away from some poor crew member she was boring to death,” she teased, nudging you.

Noel smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, she’s a master at boring people, is she?”

You shot him a glare before settling down on the opposite side of Jo.

As the joint made its way around, you felt yourself begin to relax. The music from nearby stages blurred into a distant hum, while the festival lights cast soft glows over your surroundings. You were properly stoned. A lazy smile stayed fixed on your lips as you laughed at whatever ridiculous story was being told. The fact that it was Noel telling it didn’t even bother you. You were too blissed out to care.

Noel, on the other hand, found himself sneaking glances at you. You almost seemed like a different person like this, not as uptight or dismissive. You even met his eyes a few times with a hazy smile instead of a scowl. It was... interesting to say the least.

As the night wore on, the group gradually dwindled until it was just you, Jo, and Noel left. Surprisingly, the Noel sitting here now was different from the one who had tried to lure you in at the club. He wasn’t putting on an act or trying to wind you up, he was just... normal. Cracking jokes, actually making you laugh. You much preferred this version of him, though you weren’t about to let your guard down completely.

Suddenly Jo rose from between you and Noel, dusting off her jeans before moving to sit across from you. There was a mischievous glint in her eye

Noel’s gaze flicked toward her, immediately suspicious. “What’s that look for, eh?” he questioned.

“Oh, nothing,” Jo said innocently, stretching out her legs. “I just figured now was a good time for the two of you to get to know each other. Y’know, so you don’t loathe each other anymore.”

It took a moment for her words to register, the remnants of your high still lingering. You lolled your head toward Noel, trying to gauge his reaction.

Noel raised an eyebrow, amused. “Loathe each other, do we?” His smirk deepened as he held your gaze. “Dunno if I’d go that far.”

Something about his tone made you laugh. You wanted to argue, to tell him just how wrong he was, but the whole situation was too ridiculous.

Your laughter must have been contagious because Noel chuckled too. It was the first time the two of you had laughed together instead of at each other. He leaned back against the log, eyeing you with curiosity. “What’s so funny?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you reached over and shoved him. Just because.

Noel toppled over with an exaggerated grunt, landing on his side in the grass. He stared up at you, mock outrage on his face. “Oi! Watch it, you little brute,” he said, a laugh escaping him as he pushed himself upright.

You dissolved into another fit of giggles. At that moment, he was actually entertaining to you.

As Noel brushed stray bits of grass from his clothes, he studied you. There was something about your laugh—genuine, unguarded. It wasn’t something that he heard often and he liked it more than he cared to admit.

“Now, now,” Jo piped up, shaking her head. “Violence isn’t the answer.”

You turned back to her, nearly forgetting she was there. What you didn’t notice was Noel still watching you, his expression unreadable.

“So,” you said, “how exactly do you propose we get to know each other?”

Jo grinned. “How about a game?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Hmm… how about truth or dare,” Jo suggested, her smile all too pleased with itself.

You chuckled dryly before noticing her face. “Oh you’re actually serious.”

“Dead serious.”

You sighed. “Fine. Whatever.” She would badger you until you gave in if you refused.

Noel smirked at your reluctant agreement. “You sure you’re up for this?” he teased.

As you leaned back against the log, you noticed that he’d shifted slightly closer. Not that you were paying attention.

You turned your head, meeting his gaze. “Bring it on, dickhead.”

Noel let out a low chuckle. “Alright. But remember you asked for it.”

Jo clapped her hands together. “Okay, I’ll go first,” she said eagerly, eyes flicking between the two of you. “Truth or dare?” she asked, looking directly at you.

You exhaled, already regretting this. “Truth.”

Jo tapped her chin, pretending to be deep in thought before smirking. “Alright, truth… how do you really feel about Noel?”

You stared at her for a moment, immediately seeing what she was trying to do. Force some kind of truce between you two. Well, you wouldn’t buy into it.

“You already know how I feel,” you said flatly.

“Yes, but do you find him attractive?” Jo pressed.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “That’s another question and I do believe that it’s my turn now.”

Jo pouted dramatically. “You’re no fun.”

Noel, who had been watching the exchange intently, let out a quiet chuckle.

You sighed, turning to face him. “Alright, Noel. Truth or dare?”

Noel met your gaze, his eyes narrowing as he tried to gauge your intentions.

“Dare” he finally said, tone challenging.

Jo whooped in approval but quickly stifled it with a hand over her mouth.

You tilted your head, considering. Then an idea struck. “I dare you to let Jo punch you in the arm as hard as she can.”

Jo tsked, clearly displeased.

Noel, however, barely reacted, save for a scoff. “Is that all?” he said lazily, shifting closer to where Jo sat. “Go on, love. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Jo hesitated before throwing a half-hearted punch at his arm.

Noel barely flinched. He turned to you with a smug smirk.

“Oh come on you can do better than that,” you scoffed. “Hit him!”

Jo narrowed her eyes at you, then swung again, this time harder. Noel winced slightly, rubbing his arm.

“Happy now?” he asked, moving back against the log.

“Very,” you said with a satisfied smirk.

“Brat,” he muttered under his breath, still rubbing his arm. “My turn now innit?”

Noel leaned back, glancing at Jo. “Alright, truth or dare?”

Jo grinned. “Dare.”

A slow smirk spread across Noel’s face. “I dare you to leave us alone for ten minutes.”

Your head snapped toward him. Sure, you were slightly more at ease around him now, but that was with the buffer of drugs and Jo. You weren’t sure you wanted to be alone with him again.

“And how is that a good dare?!” you sputtered.

Noel chuckled. “It’s a perfectly good dare. Right, Jo?”

Jo nodded and stood up. Traitor.

“Mhm, but let me get one last turn first,” she said, looking at you. “Truth or dare?”

You were over this. It felt like you were being toyed with. You ran your fingers through your hair and huffed. “Fine Jo. Dare.”

“I dare you to… kiss Noel. With tongue.” she said before darting away, leaving you stunned.

Surely she wasn’t serious.

Kiss him. With tongue. Her words weren’t binding. This was a children's game for christ sake. But something about the thought stirred an unidentifiable feeling in you.

“I’m sorry but there’s no way I’m doing that” you said, huffing a laugh.

Absolutely not.

Right?

Noel smirked, but there was something else behind it. Something unreadable. “What, afraid you’ll like it too much?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Afraid I’ll throw up, more like.”

He chuckled, amused at your outrage. “Or maybe,” he mused, tilting his head, “you’re a terrible kisser and you’re trying to get out of it.”

You sat up, suddenly offended. “I’ll have you know that I’m a great kisser,” you shot back, voice full of indignation. “I’ve had plenty of positive feedback.”

Noel let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying how worked up you were. “Is that right?” he murmured, eyes gleaming. “Got any proof of that?”

You faltered for a moment before realizing what he was doing. And worse, you had walked straight into it.

The gears in your brain turned. The thing was, some distant part of you was curious. The tiny, treacherous part that found him alluring.

He did have nice lips. The thought surfaced unbidden, and once it took root, it wouldn’t leave. You tried to shove it away, but curiosity had already won.

You thought for a moment. If you played this right, you could act like it was all just to prove a point. Nothing more.

“I’ll show you proof,” you said, voice steady, as you slid closer to him.

“Go on then,” he taunted.

Your eyes flicked down to his lips, then back up to his eyes. A flicker of something crossed his face. Anticipation maybe? You could hardly believe what you were about to do, but inched closer despite yourself.

He was too close now. Or maybe you were. Either way, the air had shifted, something unsaid crackling between you.

Noel’s breath shallowed. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you caught yourself tracking the movement before you could stop. You’d never been so close to him before. Now you could see the details. The long lashes, the sharpness of his features, the maddening blue of his eyes.

He opened his mouth, no doubt to taunt you for taking so long. But before he could get the words out, you surged forward, crashing your lips against his.

A sharp inhale left his throat, almost a gasp. The sound sent a strange bolt of… something through you.

His lips were warm, softer than you would’ve expected. Your heart rate kicked up, but you reasoned it was just a pavlovian response. You pressed against him, letting the kiss linger a second longer than necessary, just enough to prove your point.

Then your lips grazed a particularly sensitive spot on his mouth and another soft sound, half-surprised, half-wanting, escaped his throat.

You had to stop this. Now.

You pulled back just enough to break the kiss, his breath warm against your lips. The world had shrunk to just the two of you.

Noel was leaning in, just slightly, like he was chasing the contact.

For the first time since you’d met him, his expression was completely unguarded. He looked vulnerable. Uncertain. Like he wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened.

It caught you off guard.

You swallowed, forcing composure. “You call that good kissing?” you said, voice steadier than you felt. It was meant to be a taunt, but the usual malice wasn’t there.

Noel let out a bark of laughter. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

A flicker of annoyance, mixed with something else, something darker and more dangerous, ran through you.

“Are you calling me a bad kisser?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” His smirk was back now, arrogant and lazy, like he hadn’t just been thrown by a simple kiss.

You smiled sweetly. “Fine.”

Before you could second-guess yourself, you slid your hand over the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as you yanked him toward you.

He barely had time to react before your lips crashed onto his again, this time with intent.

You pressed in close, your body crowding against his. Your lips slotted together again, starting slow, teasing, but quickly deepening. You weren’t holding back, pouring everything into this kiss, testing him, challenging him as your mouths moved together in a heated fury. You weren’t sure if it was about proving a point or something else entirely now.

Then your tongue slipped into his mouth.

The second they touched, electricity sizzled down your spine, hot and consuming.

He reciprocated with a sigh, and damn it, he was good. Really good. It was maddening.

He tasted like smoke and something sharp and earthy. Pine, maybe, from the trees surrounding you. Either way, you liked it. Couldn’t get enough of it in fact.

Your teeth found his bottom lip, biting down just enough to make him gasp before letting go, watching the way it recoiled, swollen and slick.

The low, ragged sound that tore from his throat sent a shockwave through you.

The way he was reacting was shocking to say the very least. He seemed so… needy. Desperate. A strange tug pulled at something deep inside you. This was a side of him you would’ve never guessed existed. And for some reason, it was coming out here, now, with you. You wanted to see just how far you could push him.

Then, hands were on your waist.

You nearly jolted, unused to his touch. But instead of pulling away, you leaned in further, tongues colliding again.

Something was happening between you, something messy and volatile, where your hatred was starting to blur into something far more perverse. You wondered, distantly, how often he found himself in this position. Your guess was not often. Why he was allowing it, you weren’t sure, but you’d take as much as he’d give.

You pulled back slightly, dragging his tongue with you before sucking on it, gentle but firm. His fingers dug into your waist in response, his breath stuttering as a quiet, barely restrained curse slipped past his lips.

That sound. That voice. It sent a rush straight to your head.

Noel Gallagher, reduced to this. Because of you.

The realization sent a thrill through you, equal parts amazement and ego. You wanted, no, needed to see him break.

You leaned back slightly, letting your gaze rake over him. His lips were red and bruised, his face flushed, chest rising and falling too fast. His mouth hung open slightly, like he was still chasing the taste of you.

A sight for sore eyes.

You smirked, reaching up to tilt his head slightly, baring his neck to you.

“So you admit it,” you murmured, your voice lower now. “That I’m the better kisser.”

His breath hitched, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “Not a chance,” he shot back, though his words lacked their usual bite, undercut by his uneven breathing.

“Wrong answer,” you whispered deviously, lips barely grazing his skin before you slowly slid a knee against his crotch, smirking when you felt the strain there.

A sharp gasp tore from his throat, his hips jerking forward instinctively. He tried to recover, to take control, pushing his tongue into your mouth again, but he was slipping. You could feel it.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his grip tightening on your hips.

You placed a slow, deliberate trail of kisses from the corner of his lips, down the sharp edge of his jaw. When you reached the spot just below his ear, you lingered, pressing an open-mouthed kiss there before adding just a little more pressure with your knee.

“How about now?” you whispered against his skin.

His breathing was ragged, coming in short, desperate bursts. He was barely holding it together, his control hanging by a thread.

“Still not… convinced…” he managed, voice hoarse, roughened by something between desire and frustration.

Then you dragged your teeth over the shell of his ear, biting down just enough to make him shudder.

That did it.

A low, guttural moan escaped from deep in his chest, raw and unfiltered. His hands spasmed on your waist. His resistance was crumbling fast, and you knew there was no coming back from this.

“God… damn it,” he gasped.

Your resolve solidified. He was losing this battle, and you both knew it. And victory tasted so sweet.

You moved lower, lips ghosting over his neck before latching onto his pulse point, sucking just enough to make him curse under his breath.

He was unraveling, coming apart at the seams. His body was reacting vehemently to your touch. Every touch, every shift of your knee, every brush of your lips made him react like a man starved of touch.

He was losing himself in this. In you. And you were loving every second of it.

“Please…” he breathed, voice strained, almost desperate.

His hips bucked slightly against your knee, his body betraying him, making his need painfully obvious. You were right there with him, but at least you were better at hiding it.

You released him and pulled back, tilting your head. “What? What do you want Noel?” Your voice was innocent.

His eyes fluttered open, hazy and overwhelmed, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. He knew you were taunting him. It frustrated him. Aroused him even more.

He swallowed hard, voice rough when he finally spoke. “You know damn well what I want.”

You hummed, letting your gaze flick down to the obvious bulge straining against his jeans before slowly dragging your eyes back up to meet his.

“Do I?”

His jaw clenched. “Don’t play dumb,” he rasped. “You just want to hear me say it.”

You arched a brow, waiting. You half expected him to push back, to resist the power play you'd boxed him into.

His stare was dark, unreadable. But after a beat, he exhaled sharply and gave in.

“I want you.”

The words sent something sharp and hot through your stomach. Beneath all of your teasing, you could see how vulnerable you’d made him. Stripped of his usual cocky bravado, left raw. It scared you a little. But it also thrilled you. There was a strange pull in your chest, an unfamiliar urge to give him anything he asked for.

You glanced around, scanning the area. It was dark, secluded enough that no one would see. At least you hoped. You vaguely realized that what you were about to do might be pushing it too far. You couldn't explain this away.

You’d finally given in to him, but the thing was… he wasn’t that smug, cocky asshole from the alleyway. This felt far more real. You didn’t understand his change in demeanor, but you were liking it far too much to care.

When you looked back at him, he was still watching you, pupils blown, lips swollen, expression so unlike himself that you hesitated for a brief moment just to take it in.

Then, slowly, deliberately, you reached down and palmed him through his jeans.

“How do you want me?”

A quiet whimper escaped him, his lashes fluttering as his head tipped back. He squeezed his eyes shut, visibly struggling to speak.

“Any way… any way you’ll give me,” he gasped.

His voice, needy, breathless, made your head spin. You had ruined him. Reduced him to this.

“Okay Noel,” you murmured, almost sweetly.

You kissed him again, swallowing the groan that tore from his throat as you pressed him back against the log. Your legs moved to straddle him, smirking at how hard he was beneath you.

His hands grasped your back, your waist, holding you close.

Your fingers ghosted under his shirt, nails teasing over his skin. He tensed beneath you, a sharp inhale breaking past his lips. You traced the lines of him, teasing your way down to his belt buckle.

The moment your fingers brushed the metal, his hips jerked violently. A choked noise left him, somewhere between a moan and a plea. The sheer desperation in it made you pause, momentarily thrown by how much he was unraveling.

He was barely holding it together. You could feel it in the way he trembled beneath you, in the ragged breaths, in the way his grip on you tightened like a vice.

You couldn’t remember the last time someone had been this responsive to you. And that it was Noel of all people… the thought alone sent heat pooling deep in your gut.

“Jesus” you murmured in near reverence.

His eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours.

“Be gentle with me,” he gasped. “Please.”

Something about the way he said it made your chest tighten. It made you want to comply.

You nodded slightly, drunk on the moment. With careful fingers, you freed him from his jeans, wrapping a tentative hand around him. His head snapped back, eyes squeezing shut as a sharp gasp tore from him. His hips lifted instinctively, thrusting into your palm.

“God,” he panted.

Your stomach clenched. His lips were parted, his face flushed, his entire body wound tight beneath you. He was hot and heavy in your hand. Your head spun as he shifted his hips, twitching in your grip. You tightened your hold, stroking him slowly, using his precum to ease the motion.

His response was immediate. His breath hitched, a moan catching in his throat. His fingers dug into you like a lifeline, trying to ground himself. Every sound he made sent a thrill through you, your own breath growing ragged.

“Noel,” you pleaded, voice dripping with something you couldn’t quite name. You were almost as desperate for him to come as he was. You needed to see him fall apart underneath you.

He groaned, like hearing his name from your lips alone was enough to push him further. He clung to your shirt, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he panted against your skin.

“More… please… I need more,” he begged, voice wrecked.

You obliged, quickening your pace, swiping your thumb over the sensitive head of his cock. His whole body jolted beneath you.

His moans grew more desperate, more broken, his hips stuttering into your touch. He was teetering on the edge, barely hanging on.

“I—I’m…so close…” he choked out.

You leaned in, placing a well-timed bite at his pulse point. With one final twist of your wrist, he shattered.

His body arched violently, muscles locking up as a strangled moan ripped from his throat. He spilled over your fingers, his breaths coming in sharp, erratic bursts. He trembled beneath you, clinging to you like you were the only thing anchoring him to this earth.

You watched, mesmerized, as he came undone.

A final, weak moan left him before he slumped back, chest heaving. It took several moments for any semblance of awareness to return. When his eyes finally fluttered open, they locked onto yours, utterly wrecked.

You sat there, pulse racing, trying to catch your breath as if you were the one who’d just come. This moment, this image, was searing itself into your mind. You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, trying to collect yourself.

Then you realized your hand was still wrapped around him.

You quickly let go, catching sight of his softening cock and your hand coated in him. You averted your eyes, feeling like it was far too intimate a sight. Something hot and embarrassing was starting to climb up your throat.

“Sorry ‘bout the mess,” he rasped, voice hoarse.

Your face burned. The weight of what had just happened was settling over you like a lead blanket. You needed to get out of there. Now.

You quickly wiped your hand on the grass and untangled yourself from him, feeling completely dazed.

An awkward silence hung between you. You forced yourself to stand, legs shaky, unsure what to do next.

You could still feel the remnants of cum you hadn’t managed to wipe on the grass cooling on your skin.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, grasping for words.

"Right, well, I—uh, um," you stammered, turning your head toward the festival grounds. "I suppose I’ll be going then."

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but for once in his life, he seemed to be at a loss for words.

You forced your feet to carry you away, not daring to look back. You didn’t want to stay and think about what had just happened. You wandered into the more crowded part of the festival in a daze, barely paying attention to where you were going.

You glanced down at your hand and felt panic claw at your throat. Suddenly, you were overcome with the need to get rid of the evidence. Fast. It felt like everyone knew you were walking around with Noel Gallagher’s spunk on your hand.

Spotting a water spout, you rushed over, scrubbing at your skin furiously. You flicked the water off, running a shaky hand through your hair. You quickly realized the state you were in and hurriedly smoothed out the wrinkles in your shirt and wiped at your mouth like it could erase everything that had just transpired.

No one could know about this. Ever.

Just as you were regaining some semblance of composure, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“Well, well, well…”

You barely had time to react before Jo appeared in front of you, arms crossed, a smug grin stretching across her face.

She took one long, knowing look at you, eyes gleaming.

“So… whose dick did you just suck?”

Shit.

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I saw I got some requests, which I didn’t think I’d get so thank you!! I’ll try to get to those as soon as I can. I have some other ideas rattling around my brain at the moment <3

#noel gallagher x reader #noel gallagher x you #noel gallagher #oasis #oasis band #noel gallagher fic #90s noel gallagher #noel gallagher smut

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dollwrites · 5 months ago

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ᴍɪsғɪᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ᴘᴀᴍᴇʟᴀ ɪsʟᴇʏ

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!robin!reader, established relationship, predicament bondage ( plants ), blood mention ( mind the thorns ), improper use of Pam’s powers and plants in general, it’s kinda dub con, suggested age gap, praise kink, maybe a very small amount of sex pollen if you squint. all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 ∣ act six [ object stimulation ]

“Well, well, a little birdie got caught in my trap.”

vines slither up your legs, coiling like serpents around your thighs and squeezing tight. Pam’s voice sounds like it’s all around you, but you know better than that. she’s just a pro at playing up the villain bit. “Ivy,” you break out into a subtle smile even saying her name, but attempt to hold it at bay by nibbling on your lower lip. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

“Isn’t that what you said last night? And the time before that?” Pamela’s voice only grows softer as she gets closer, practically materializing out of the darkest shadow at your back, until slender fingers drum against your shoulders, and glossy lips smack against the shell of your ear. “Oh, and the time before that?”

“Heroes make mistakes,” you remind her, but you’re happy it’s her causing chaos in Gotham and not that looney tune Joker. “I have just made… a lot of mistakes this week.”

and you wanted to make another. just one more, terrible decision before Batman ruined all your fun.

“Pamela—“ you reach for her, wanting to run your fingers through her fiery curls or caress her face long enough to guide those tantalizing, glossy lips to your own, but more vines got in the way. snapping around your arms, they pin them tight to your sides, looping several times around your midriff. this is when you notice the thorns, angry and red, nipping at the spandex of your uniform around your belly, tearing several, minuscule holes in the threading and pressing into your soft skin beneath. “Ivy.” you say, more firm this time. the fabric that clings to your thighs like a second skin is also being torn at by her dubious, thorned ‘babies’ as she called them. “Now’s not the time for your little games. Batman is—“

“Shh, sh, shh,” Pam cuts you off, allowing her hands to careen over your shoulders and down your front, caressing your chest as her lips tickle the column of your neck with tender kisses. you moan out loud when she teases a particularly special spot that she already knew was there, and her svelte, razor sharp nails slip beneath your neckline, severing quintessential threads that hold your top in place. the seams snap with a soft sound, and part to expose your cleavage. “I know Bruce is probably scouring the rooftops of Gotham right now, searching for you, little bird. But you and I can still have our fun before he finds you.” both of her willowy hands envelop your breasts through your top, running her thumbs along the shape of your budding nipples, and you moan, your resolve slipping, as you allow your head to fall back, simply enjoying the attention. “There you go, my little pet. Such a good girl for me.”

but you can’t ignore the thorny vines that are vice-tight, digging into your arms, waist, and legs. shredding the integrity of your outfit. “Time to call off your babies, Ivy.” you tell her in a mew, but they only seem to tighten their grip at that, twisting against you. some of the sharp edges find your skin beneath the costume and liquid rubies bead up from you at the contact points. you let out a sharp hiss at the sensation of so many cuts at once, and tilt your head back further to look up at her, demanding to be released.

but Pamela is simpering wickedly at you as she peeks up from your neck— the visage of a heroine, usually so strong, reduced to a damsel in distress. “Mm, nn-nn.” she denies you simply, “I think I’ll have my fun with you all tangled up this time.” as she speaks, the two tips of the vines incapacitating your legs meet in between your thighs, their bulbous buds stiff and oozing a nectar-like substance as they begin to rub against you. it was sticky and warm, but not unpleasant, the smell of a honey-arousal cocktail wafts in the atmosphere the longer they tease your sensitive cunny through your suit. you were almost worried the two, determined little buds would rip a hole in the crotch of it with all their furious, hard scrubbing, and you would have a difficult time explaining to your mentor why your private parts were exposed. the injuries from the thorns you could probably explain away without raising much suspicion. however, the edges of these buds were slick enough to lubricate the fabric ( and you, of course, taking care of the interior the more they pleasured you ), so the majority of the integrity of the suit tonight remained in tact.

your gloved hands ball into fists at your sides, but you can’t deny it feels good. the flowerlets seemed to be ribbed in all the right places, writhing in tandem to toy with your cunt— pushing the spandex around until your nerherlips slot around them, and they can worm their way, instinctively, to the more sensitive parts, like your throbbing, little button that swells further. “Ah, uh—!”

one of the sprouts blossoms, the flower mimicking the shape of a small mouth, and latches itself in place with several, microscopic teeth-like thorns impaling through your suit. the seal creates a suction against your clit hard enough to make your eyes cross and your knees buckle. it felt like Pamela’s mouth when she ate your pussy, the way it sucked hard on your nerve-bundle. that’s how you knew she was in complete control, aware of the sensations that bring you the most pleasure and channeling them into these, little minions. the bubbling in your belly, a brewing orgasm, flares at the sudden ferocity, and your mouth hangs open, half in shock and half to simply allow your needy moans to flow freely. “P—Pam, oh, god, this feels… Good!! Don’t stop…!!”

your pleading nature elicits a giggle from the vixen fondling your breasts, further overloading you with pleasure, and she traces her name along your throat with her tongue, as if claiming Batman’s young, pretty sidekick for herself. “You’re always so sensitive, so responsive. Taking whatever I give you, doing so well.” she croons softly, her thumbs and forefingers pinching at your pert nipples to intensify the pleasure her plants are giving you. the still-closed floret has taken to prodding against your hole as it clenches, helplessly, behind the flimsy defense of your suit, teasing you with fantasies of tearing its way through and impaling you. right now, you were intoxicated by the pleasure ( or perhaps, that sweet-scented sap that seemed to envelop you in a warm, tingling sensation ), and you wanted nothing more than that to happen. but Ivy knew there wasn’t time to ravage you, not like you both wanted. “My pretty, little bird. My favorite.” she emphasizes the word favorite, by allowing one hand to flee to your jaw, grasping it, and turning it to capture your lips in a steamy kiss.

you can’t help yourself. you’re teetering on the edge of orgasm, and all this praise is only throwing gasoline on an already-raging fire. so you kiss her back, as fervently and hungrily as you can manage. your tongue tangling with hers in a dangerous dance as her suffocating kiss muffles the higher octaves you reach when your orgasm hits you like a sack of bricks.

you come undone, your hips bucking back and forth, riding the waves of intense pleasure because you can do little else, your fists balled so tight that your knuckles hurt, and you whimper when Pamela sinks her teeth into your lower lip, tugging on it. your eyelids flutter when you release, and then, without so much more as a second to torture you further, the vines retreat. Pam breaks the kiss, kicking her lips, smirking with her arms crossed as she steps back.

without the vines’ support, you are more than a little wobbly on your feet. you manage to stay standing, only barely, and pant, chancing a glance down at your suit. the chest is ripped open, exposing more cleavage than normal, it’s riddled with small, puncture holes, and the aromatic slime mixed with your own release creates a thick, damp patch in the crotch. Explaining this to Batman might be a little harder than you anticipated, but you would figure it out. your eyes flicker over to her, watching the vines retreat into the darkness behind her, and she only stands at the edge of escape. she looks stunning, irresistible, and in your post-orgasmic state, still riding the high, you want to grab her and insist on a round two. bury your face between her thighs and drink her in. but you couldn’t, and you both knew that. not yet, at least. “Don’t look so sad, baby.” Pamela speaks first, reading your pouty expression, and she reaches out to caress your cheek and trace your jaw with the very tip of her nail, smiling fondly. “We’ll see each other again soon. You just have to find some time to sneak around Bruce. Keep him distracted a little longer, and then I will really and truly ravage you.”

your heart thumps harder at the idea. you’ve been at the mercy of Poison Ivy and her insatiable appetite more than once, but it’s always a place you want to be. “Yeah, just stay out of his way in the meantime, okay?” you plead with her, tilting your head to kiss her fingers, mumbling softly, “It’s a pain in the ass to sneak into your cell at Arkham.”

#poison Ivy #poison Ivy x reader #poison ivy x you #poison ivy smut #pamela isley #pamela isley x reader #pamela isley x you #pamela isley smut #dc comics x you #dc x you #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #dc smut #dc comics smut #dc #dc comics

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writingsofwesteros · 5 months ago

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All of these thoughts are delicious, but I can immediately imagine it being Viserys. His daughter with Alicent was always ambitious, though this particular occurance was born from the necessity to protect her family. They had all seen just how little their father cared for them when it came to his prized daughter and it was enough to create a divide within the family, a deep cavern that would be nearly impossible to fill. Alicent's daughter learned from the world around her, always more of an observer than an actual player in life's game, a fact that made her a different type of dangerous. Perhaps if she were interested in someone that could match her head on, she would've paired herself with Larys, or more appropriately, Aemond. But alas, her cunningness led her down the path of "greatness", as in the words of Otto Hightower.

Borrowing a trick from her mother, the daughter hatches a plan to strengthen her claim to their father's heart and secure their future through seizing the throne. She feels like a cheap whore the way she dumbs herself down to pretend like she wasn't vastly more knowledgeable than Viserys in regards to their history, or any other subject as he seemed to be severly lacking in several areas. It takes no time for her to worm her way into his bed, playing innocent and allowing him to mount her the first few times, moaning wantonly and clinging to him like he was her only lifeline. As he thrusts inside her desperately, all she can do is feel self satisfied over her amazing acting skills. It was evident that Viserys never remembered anything regarding Alicent's children, especially since it was a big ordeal within the castle when the servants had found blood on her sheets from an unexpected late night hook up with Aegon in their youth. Even after facing Alicent's wrath and ridicule, that didn't stop them from enjoying the occasional romp.

One night she whispers cutely to Viserys that she had recieved a dirty book from her handmaiden and wished to test out the position. He was immediately on board, though worried about how his "innocent" daughter would fare doing something so lewd. He's quickly shut up when she ties him down like a professional and wastes no time slowly torturing him with the thought of fucking her. She blindfolds him and rubs her tits in his face, climbing on the bed and teasingly rubbing his red cock through her folds and chuckling when he attempts to enter her. Alicent's daughter isn't going to let him get away with treating her the way he did her mother when she is his new wife, teaching him patience and making him eat her out from behind, her creamy pussy suffocating him. She doesn't let him get a break, making him work hard to learn her sensitive areas and the quickest way to make her cum.

Once she believes he is decent enough at the job, she slowly slides his cock in her sensitive pussy and gives him the ride of his life. His fragile heart stutters as she fucks his cock in and out of her tight cunt as if she had to rush to do something after she finished. His poor cock is abused by her tight grip and unrelenting pace, Viserys swearing his daughter is going to snap his cock in half with her vigorous movements, though says nothing and enjoys his slice of heaven. Alicent's daughter is going through it as she finally takes the liberty of fucking him, honestly feeling disgusted yet turned on by how submissive she had him already. She always loved when Aegon would let her take her frustration out on him instead of their usual wrestling match that left the servants extra busy come cleaning time. Feeling him start to pulse inside her helps bring her closer to her edge as her plan is that much closer to being achieved and she races to the finish line by swirling her fingers around her clit.

Alicent's daughter fucks him like he's her bitch a few more times before untying him and leaving him covered in their combined juices, his face red from embarrassment and vision blurry as he watches her slip her dress on and walk out like nothing had happened, his cum dripping from her cunt still. Viserys can't tell if he got punked, but he definitely knows that 1. He's not unhappy she fucked him so hard he wasn't able to walk to dinner, and 2. He's going to definitely need to marry her since it's obvious he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about her after that night 👑💀

SO DELICIOUS !!

#👑💀anon #viserys hot thots

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shomatoriashi · 7 months ago

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08/10/24; 04:00pm

sung jinwoo x reader / sung jinwoo x cha hae-in

{ oneshot - angst to fluff }

- the academy arc -

{ we can’t be friends | but i’d like to just pretend | you cling to you papers and pens | wait until you like me again | wait for your love | love, i’ll wait for your love… }

perhaps you were destined to suffer with this unrequited love, you think to yourself while sneaking glances at jinwoo, watching as he turned the pages of his textbook while jotting down notes within the confines of his notebook.

currently, you were both studying for your upcoming college entrance exams. jinwoo had invited you over to his place, and you were settled within the quiet sanctuary of his room. surrounding you were pieces of jinwoo that made your heart turn even softer for him, and you swore you would never get used to how his scent seemed to permeate at the air. taking a break from your own studying, you decide to admire the various trophies he had won during his time spent on the track team.

of course, such winnings came as no surprise for you, since he had always been shockingly athletic. that fact has never changed-

however, his reasoning for joining track in the first place was what made your heart clench painfully within your chest. you recalled that day like it was just yesterday...

it was the first day of high school, and you recognized jinwoo from your elementary school years. gathering your courage, you decided to sidle up to his desk, earning a smile from him when you disclosed your identity to him. as you struck a conversation with him (reminiscing on old times), some rambunctious guys began heckling jinwoo while they surrounded both you and him. they made you incredibly nervous, and as one of them reached out to you, jinwoo immediately stopped them from grabbing you, standing from his seat as he spoke in a stern tone.

"leave her alone. if you want to get to me, then talk to me directly."

your eyes go wide when the boys seem to freeze up before moving stiffly away from you, their steps shaky and uneven, like they were puppets being controlled on a string. seconds later, they were all tumbling into the hallways, making your eyes go wide. a soft chuckle was heard coming from jinwoo, and once you looked back, you saw the secretive smile on jinwoo's face.

you may have had a crush on him at that very moment.

after that day, you cling to jinwoo like a lost puppy, having stars in your eyes at the mere sight of him. you comment on how much taller- on how much braver he had gotten since you had last seen him. while you gushed on him, he simply gives you a kind smile in response.

"thanks... i guess you could say i've worked out a little bit since i've grown."

"a little bit? jinwoo, you practically tower over everyone here! you must have plans to join an athletic club or something, right?"

jinwoo ends up considering your words with a hum before smiling back down at you. "i suppose i'd like to give track a try... after all... there's someone i'd like to meet."

his admission makes you stop dead in your tracks, your heart clenching just the tiniest bit when you see the warmth within his stormy gaze. he was clearly thinking about someone achingly special to him... and that made your throat close up as you struggled to get the words out.

"oh really? who is she?" you were surprised at how even your voice came out, unsure of why you were feeling this way over meeting an old friend again. jinwoo meets your gaze from your periphery and gives you a kind smile. "she's someone that's special to me... and i've waited a long time to meet her again."

that final confession was what ultimately stops you in your tracks, your heart aching at the fact that you would never get such a chance to be with jinwoo, especially when his heart had already been captured by another.

he notices the way you stop walking next to him and stops as well, eyes appearing wide when he asks if you were okay. you manage to let out a forced laugh, not wishing to admit the truth to him when you told him how you forgot you had a meeting with an advisor (a lie you had made up on the spot).

jinwoo ends up believing your lie and nods, walking closer to you so that he was now settled directly in front of you. amusement was seen in his gaze, and you could feel your breath become taken away by the sheer beauty and kindness of his smile. his large hand reaches out to you, and he ruffles it before stepping back, "okay, i'll see you tomorrow then. i'm going to head to the track field and talk to the coach about joining."

you nod and lift up your hand in a wave, watching jinwoo as he walked away from you with a heaviness felt in your chest.

since then, you tried to avoid him, or at least, tried to put some distance between you and him, yet jinwoo could never seem to take the hint. ever since that first day, he had already deemed you his best friend, further trapping your heart with the tendrils of love and affection you felt growing for him.

you spent the next three years remaining by his side, studying with him while supporting his efforts with each tournament he attended. yet instead of growing out of your crush for him, it grew to genuine feelings of love for him.

and this fact did little to hide the pain and envy you felt each time he answered her calls or eagerly replied to her texts, sometimes even going as far as meeting her during weekends to take her out on cute little dates-

looking back at him now, you felt your heart ache with the sheer amount of concentration was seen on his face. he was working so hard to be with her, to build a future with her-

a future that you were certain you could never be a part of.

in the midst of your reveries, jinwoo meets your gaze and gives you a smirk, "what are you looking at? is there something on my face?"

you shake your head and look back down at your textbook. since jinwoo admitted his feelings for this young woman named cha hae-in to you, you threw yourself into your studies and managed to make incredible grades. due to your own heartache, you decided to study abroad to get away from south korea, wishing to attend university in the united states, within the city of new york, to be exact.

you didn't think they would accept you, yet by some miracle, you were chosen to spend 4 years at a university there, hence why you were currently studying up on english grammar. however, there was a catch-

you had yet to tell jinwoo about your plans for college.

letting out a deep breath, you give your best friend a tiny smile before beginning to speak.

"jinwoo, i'm so sorry, but there's something i have to tell you."

he ends up frowning at your choice of words. "okay, what is it?"

with a heavy sigh, you shut your books and tell him, all while stuttering along the way, "uhm, w-well, you know h-how our school offers a s-study abroad program for u-universities we wish to a-attend?"

jinwoo's frown seems to deepen. "yes, i know about it."

"w-well, i signed up for the program a-and got accepted... i'll be moving to america soon."

hearing the news makes jinwoo drop his pen in response. "w-what? you're going to america?"

you could feel the anxiety coursing through your veins, "y-yes... i got accepted into a university in new york city and plan to leave near the beginning of january."

"NEW YORK CITY?!" jinwoo suddenly jumps out of his seat, his eyes widening so much that it seemed to bulge against his features, "t-that's so far away from here... why did you choose to go so far?"

to be as far away as i can be from you and the woman you love. but you don't tell him the truth, choosing to tell him a half-truth of sorts when you answer, "i've spent my whole life here, jinwoo. i think it's only natural for me to wish to expand my horizons and experience new things."

"y-yeah but... it's four years... what if you decide to never come back here?" jinwoo's voice becomes quiet all of a sudden, with his fists remaining clenched against his sides.

you let out a soft laugh, packing up your belongings one by one into your backpack. once everything was neatly in place, you stand back to your full height and meet with jinwoo's gaze. "it's okay... i'll be sure to keep in touch by texting you or calling you... but, i-i hope you'll forgive me if i forget or am too busy to call..."

an unreadable expression was seen in jinwoo's eyes, and for a brief moment, you could have sworn that his eyes flashed purple before going back to its original slate grey hue. not wishing to cry in front of him, you cling to your backpack and quickly excuse yourself, not even able to find the words to apologize to him for telling him such news of your departure so suddenly.

while you made your escape from his room, you were unaware of how jinwoo's intense gaze focused on your shadow, seeing loyal, glowing purple eyes looking back at him in understanding...

{ ... }

why was jinwoo such a mess now that you were no longer here?

after working so hard to pass the entrance exams for the last few months, he had plans of spending some time with you before you left for america... yet when he arrived at your place, you were nowhere to be found as your parents had told him that you had already departed for new york-

it had only been november at the time-

so you had lied to him as well?

and why did jinwoo's heart felt like it was on the verge of breaking?

your sudden departure coupled along with your obvious deception made jinwoo's heart clench with an unknown emotion. here you were, thousands upon thousands of miles away from him, leaving jinwoo feeling like he was drowning.

all of those shared laughters and inside jokes-

the times you spent remaining by his side during each and every one of his track meets-

and those late nights spent studying together, falling asleep together within the comfort of his bed-

had everything been all for naught?

with your absence drilling a hole within his heart, he found that not even hae-in's calls and texts could bring him out of this slump. jinwoo admits to how her beauty and awkward kindness had once ensnared his heart, making him think of nothing but meeting her again once he reset his timeline-

yet now, with you so clearly gone from his life, he found that he could not focus on anything but the memories he had of you-

memories of your smile and the way you would snort each time you tried to hold back your giggles while in class-

memories of how you would hide your face within his shoulder each time you watched a horror movie together, as if trusting him to shield you from all the monsters-

memories of how he could spend hours on end simply watching you sleep-

and it was only when you left him that he realized the truth of his feelings-

that you were the one he felt the most comfortable with... that by the end of the day, he would always need you and you alone...

with thoughts of you pushing him forward, he decides to finally come clean to hae-in one late afternoon on christmas eve. he wears his usual coat with a dark pair of jeans, expression forlorn as he felt conflicted with potentially breaking her heart. while walking across the streets of the city, he stops walking, already sensing her presence when he turns around to face her.

hae-in's hands were outstretched, bewilderment painting her beautiful expression. "there you are." jinwoo manages to smile at her, making hae-in take a step back as she brushes a hand across her golden strands of hair.

"it's like you have eyes in the back of your head, jinwoo." she hums and steps closer to him, "you took your college entrance exams last month, right? congrats. are you still going to the university you chose before? you got really good grades, so why are you set on going to that university?"

that was when things began to feel awkward on jinwoo's end. he coughs and was unable to meet hae-in's curious gaze. looking away from her, he shakes his head, "no, unfortunately, my plans have... changed since then."

hae-in seems taken aback by his confession, and jinwoo feels a wave of empathy coursing through his veins when he notices her expression, "i-it's not because of a woman, is it?"

jinwoo tears his gaze away from her, unable to give her a truthful answer without hurting her. yet, it seemed as though his silence was more than enough, making tears fill at her grey eyes as realization dawns within her tearful expression. "o-oh..."

with a shake of his head, he steps closer to her, "i'm sorry, for breaking our promise so suddenly. i thought... i thought i knew what i wanted... but... looking back on it now, she was the one who was by my side from the start."

hae-in's shoulders began to tremble in response, further filling jinwoo with guilt. "she was my best friend... and... she left me to pursue her dreams in america. now that she's not here, i feel... lost without her..."

"y-you wish to follow her?"

jinwoo closes his eyes before giving hae-in a nod. "i do."

a sob was heard escaping from hae-in, and jinwoo could feel the way she shoves him away from her, body trembling as she ran back home. his expression was filled with regret, watching hae-in running away from him. the soldier he had placed within her shadow lengthens in response to her movements, and jinwoo knew that she would be protected even if he wasn't around.

{ ... }

there was an odd sense of freedom felt coursing through your veins when you moved into your dorm, ready to start the semester. you were still surrounded by suitcases that held each and every one of the items you had deemed important to you.

as you took out each item from your suitcase, your eyes go wide when they saw a thick photo album you had no recollection of packing. taking it out, you watch as a note fluttered out of it, recognizing your mother's handwriting as it read:

i just wanted to pack you a little surprise; memories of your home, of family and friends who wish for nothing more than to support you. come back home and see us soon. love, mom

with tears filling your vision, you open up the album and flip through the first few pages, laughing at each picture before turning the page once more-

this time landing on a photo that had you and jinwoo smiling at the camera.

seeing his handsome face makes your heart well up with emotions you thought you had tossed aside. as your fingertips shakily trace at his handsome features, a sense of guilt filled you. you had purposely ghosted him, wanting nothing more than to leave south korea, just to put some distance between you and the man you had always loved-

a man who you believed with all your heart would forever remain an unrequited love.

unable to handle the pain of seeing jinwoo's face, you slam the album shut and let out a shaky breath. hot tears were felt streaming down your face, and your sadness was so potent- so palpable that it made the blood rush to your ears.

in fact, you were so distracted that you didn't hear the knocks at your door for several minutes. you gasp and look toward your front door, taking shaky steps toward it as you unlocked it.

"s-sorry, i was distracted, are you my roommate?" you spoke in english, earning a grunt from the person you assumed would be your roommate.

a deep hum was heard, "damn right i am." his face was covered by a huge box in his hand, and you saw the way his long legs kicked his suitcase inside, with your head tilted in response. you notice how he also spoke in english, yet there seemed to be a hint of an accent in it. a strange sense of familiarity fills you, and when you close the door was when your roommate puts down his box-

revealing himself to be sung jinwoo.

your breathing comes out in uneven breaths, with you taking a step back while meeting jinwoo's annoyed gaze. "jinwoo?!" you speak to him, reaching out to him with trembling hands. "t-there's no way... is it really you?"

jinwoo remains silent, simply taking casual steps closer to you, effectively trapping you against the wall. "who else would it be?" his reply was casual, and you flinch slightly upon feeling the way he brushes back your hair. with both hands settled against the wall, jinwoo prevents you from moving as he looks down at you, grey eyes shining with amusement.

your heart was felt pounding within your chest, making the heat travel all the way up to your cheeks when you shakily ask, "w-what are you doing here? aren't you supposed to be with hae-in?"

the jerk had the nerve to smirk at your question! he ends up humming in response, taking a hold of your hand to press a kiss against the back of it "are you jealous?"

you end up sputtering in response, "are you teasing me?"

he hums, "and what if i am?"

before you could answer, jinwoo ends up taking you directly within his embrace, chuckling as you struggled to get out of his powerful arms. "jinwoo!"

he simply hums once more before settling himself on the couch with you, hands already delving themselves into your hair as he leans in to give your cheek a kiss. such a sudden display of affection was enough to make your head spin as jinwoo tightens his hold on you. "when you left was the moment i realized you had taken a part of me with you... a part of me that i never wish to have returned."

his words manages to stun you, all coherent thoughts ceasing as pure and utter hope fills your gaze. he smiles down at you in a loving manner, choosing to frame at your face while continuing, "it hurt me, realizing how you chose to leave so suddenly without even telling me goodbye... but shockingly enough, it was thanks to your absence that i realized the reasoning for your departure was because of me all along."

"jinwoo..." tears fill at your vision, making jinwoo slowly lean down to press you against the couch in response. his gaze was intense, and he brushes back your hair before telling you, "you left because you loved me... yet i was too stupid and blind to realize it... until now..."

your breathing hitches when jinwoo leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. you eagerly respond to him, kissing him back with a fervor (pouring all of the yearning and heartache you felt for him building up within those 3 years). jinwoo groans against your parted lips, deepening the kiss momentarily before pulling away from you.

jinwoo's handsome features were all you could see when he smiles down at you, and you allow his large hands to delve themselves into your hair when he kisses your forehead once more, "i love you... i realize that i cannot live without you... so please... will you promise to remain by my side and never leave me again?"

his question makes you giggle, eyes filling with absolute adoration for him when you lean up to press a kiss against his lips all while reassuring him, "i promise..."

that was the moment the years spent yearning for him (along with your heartache) vanished completely as jinwoo captured your lips in another breathtaking kiss, swallowing the sounds of your laughter completely…

end notes: this is so self indulgent for me (⺣◡⺣)♡ but it was so worth writing. currently unedited, but i'll make any necessary changes once this is posted. once again, i don't trust tumblr to keep my drafts for long 😭 🙌🏻

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader #writings 📖

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stargirlrchive · 1 year ago

Note

This is Simon and his daughter when she wants to do dance and has one of those recitals where the child’s parent dances with them. He gladly walks up there with his little princess and does the dance with her. And obviously you would be recording the entire thing to watch over and over.

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRc6C9tc/

this made me ascend out of my body !! and i word-vomited a little

like you’re a little hesitant to bring up to simon that there’s a father-daughter dance because you know it would break his heart if he couldn’t make it. and when you do bring it up, he’s so quiet.

you can see the cogs turning in his brain, the turmoil he’s feeling clear as day in his eyes before he’s blinking and it’s gone. giving you a small nod and mumbling something along the lines of ‘i’ll make it work.’

you don’t hear much about it after that. especially because the week practices are starting he gets deployed. you’ve honestly thought he’s forgotten all about it.

so for father-daughter practice you show up, not wanting to let your little girl feel left out.

weeks of practice go on, and you’ve both gotten the steps down. you’re so happy that your little girl doesn’t seem to be too bummed out that simon won’t be able to make it. she understands, even at such a young age, that dad’s got an important job!

but unexpectedly on week three, little riley’s ballet teacher comes up to you beaming. “i’m glad to hear mr. riley was finally able to get the recordings i sent over.”

and you’re so confused because you have no idea what she’s talking about. you hadn’t been able to speak to simon since a few days after he left. but as she explains that simon had asked her to send over a video of the routine so he could practice while away, your heart warms. tears pooling at your waterline as you give her a watery smile and bid your goodbye.

it’s about half an hour later that you’re both home and you get a facetime call from simon. instantly little riley is reaching for the phone and babbling away over all the things she’s done since he’s been gone.

reluctantly passing you the phone when simon asks to speak to mama. your eyes tracing over his masked face, smiling softly as you remember his hidden features. your heart lurching in your chest because you miss him so terribly.

“so, you’ve been practicing.”

the way he scratches at the back of his neck, you know he’s blushing under the mask. a bright smile blooming on your face as he nods.

“ask’d johnny to stand in h’r place to get the movements right.”

and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your throat, “gaz ‘nd capt’n been giving me pointers, but i’ve got most of it down.”

you sigh softly, just hearing him speak makes your heart thrum in pure happiness. but as your eyes flicker over to your daughter, you feel it plummet.

“m’not gonna tell her you’ve been learning the dance. it’ll get her hopes up and i don’t want her to be disappointed if you can’t make it.”

“i will be there.”

the conviction in his voice causes the sadness swirling in your chest to simmer down because you know he will.

but it’s only the day before the recital that simon gets back home. your daughter clinging to him desperately the whole day.

babbling excitedly about how he’s gonna be home to see her and mama perform. you both decided to let her find out it would be simon dancing with her until she was on stage.

which you are then sitting front row, camera ready and already recording as your little girls brows furrow in confusion as she sees you sitting in the seats. but before she can think too much about it, simon is coming out from the side of the stage, dressed in all black, a black tutu and a simple black balaclava.

the smile on your daughter’s face is the brightest you’ve ever seen and you have to force down the tears that are threatening to fall.

before the music starts you see little riley tugging on his arm, and after simon bends down to hear her, he barks out a laugh. your daughter’s giggles filling the room before the music starts and they start dancing.

her eyes shining brighter and brighter because her dad knew the dance. and caught her anytime her slippery shoes slid a little too much on the stage.

when she’s finally able to get back to you, she’s bolting into your arms. her words jumbled and excited over the fact that she got to dance with her dad, just like all her other little friends.

and when she finally calms down, simon is wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer as he presses a kiss to your temple and you can feel how fucking happy he is.

“what did she tell you before the performance started?”

a warbled noise left his mouth, his eyes full of mirth as he tried so hard not to laugh, “she asked me to not step on her cause mommy always does.”

#i want to give him a baby :(#simon riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #pdfs.

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ixtaek · 7 months ago

Text

They were all incredibly kind.

Zelda watched them as they helped the former residents of Skyloft—moving supplies, crafting tools, teaching the patrols how to defend themselves from the dangers of the surface.

The Hero of Hyrule demonstrated how to tell if water was safe to drink. “You want water that’s moving, and ideally deep.” He grinned as he ladled out of a bucket. “It’s best to boil the water and let it cool. That will get rid of any toxins and germs that might be lingering in it.” He tried to take a sip but the water poured out faster than he expected, pouring down his front as Kukiel giggled at him.

A vision flashed through Zelda’s mind, overlaying the scene. The Hero of Hyrule gripping a sword, blood dripping down his tunic as he struggled away from a monster clawing for his face. The beast cackled as the Hero tried to swipe at them while his shield arm hung limp, shield dragging—

She blinked, Hyrule’s laughter as he dumped a spoonful of water on Kukiel as well breaking through the vision. The girl squealed and shook her head to send droplets flying.

The Hero of Twilight and Time lifted a log into place, letting the builders work to secure it in the new cabin wall. The two seemed to have a bet going about who could hold it up longer. Their arms both shook from the effort of—

A boy, barely reaching her knee, breathing heavily as he shoved his shield forward to block a blow by an undead monster. The boy lowered his defense to fumble for his sword. The monster took the blow without flinching, long teeth slavering as it unhinged its jaw and screamed—

The scene dissolved into a long bridge. A snarling boar pawed at the other end, tusks stained with blood. The monster astride its back howled a battle cry, a small child held aloft on its spear. The hero to her left gasped in horror, his blue eyes locked on the child. He spurred his steed forward, sweat dripping down his face as—

“I yield, I yield!” Twilight yelped. The wall was already secured as the hero fell back, giggling. The Hero of the Wild accepted his ten rupee bribe from Time before continuing his tickle assault on his mentor.

A mere boy staggering as the lasers hit him in the chest, the side of his head gushing blood, arms still trying to hold up a shield to protect—

“Zel?”

She turned, almost falling against Link’s chest. Sky’s eyes were soft as they traced over her face. “Are you… What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She tried to smile, ignoring the wetness in her eyes. “I’m fine, Link. Just a little out of sorts.”

The divine blood in her burned. Link smiled and pulled her closer, hugging gently.

Soft hands wielding a flaming sword, lighting crackling through his body. Fighting a demon that should have been slain ages ago by the gods, by— by—

“… By me…”

“What?” Link held her at arms length so he could look at her face. “Zelda, what are you talking about?”

“All of you… none of you should have had to go through what you did!” Zelda could feel the tears on her cheeks. “Hylia shouldn’t have put you through all of that. She—I—used all of you! It’s all my fault for not defeating Demise sooner, before you ever had to step in and clean up my mess!”

She pushed away. Many people were staring now, villagers and heroes alike.

Falling from the cliffs as a giant bird became a smaller and smaller speck in the sky, the screams of his sister like—

—hounds baying in the distance, knights brandishing swords as his short legs fled—

—waves of foes overwhelming their defenses, his brothers in arms falling around him, the weapons clattering as they fell from their limp hands—

—the blade his grandfather made going flying as the blow meant for Zelda hit him head on, the wind ripping at his tunic as he heard the curse strike his friend—

She couldn’t stand it. Her feet were moving before she knew where she was going.

“Zelda! Wait!”

She kept going, the visions buffering her every which way. A mask clamping—his body fracturing—a traitor’s blade in—the island fading into—the malice clinging to his—tentacles lurching forward—his own face rendered in dark—reaching for her as a tornado sucked her away—

Zelda blinked, looking up. The impassive face of the goddess stared down, without a trace of pity. Hylia. The divine protector of her people. The holy maiden. Her.

The one who had failed, who had sent them all to—

—dark magic suffocating his split mind—sparking a flame so they wouldn’t claim his blood—the magic of the woods stripping his flesh—the dark water—the endless fighting—the intrigue—the—

“Why?!” She screamed. “Why would you do it to them? Why make them suffer?! They are just boys, and you—I—we break them down and don’t even care that we do! They must hate us for—“

“Why should we hate you?”

The voice made her wince, spinning around, covering her mouth. The heroes, all of them, stood a careful distance away, Link at the head of the group. It wasn’t him who had spoken.

The Hero of Legend ambled forward, looking up at the statue. His sharp eyes scanned the goddess, and he sighed.

“I was 11 when my uncle was killed. He held my hand as he died.” He closed his eyes, grimacing. “He wasn’t killed by Hylia, or the golden three. He was killed by a wizard called Agahnim.”

“When I was 12, my best friend got turned into stone.” Four shuffled his feet. “It wasn’t Hylia who did it. It was a sorcerer named Vaati.”

“When I was 10, I was trapped in a time loop trying to stop the apocalypse.” Time ignored the whispers by the others at this admission. “It wasn’t Hylia or the goddess of time who started that disaster. It was a demon named Majora.”

“And my sister got taken by the Helmaroc King!”

“My village children were taken by Zant.”

Legend looked at her sidelong. “And guess who was behind most of those threats?”

“Ganon.” whispered Hyrule, running a finger over his gauntlets. “It’s almost always Ganon.”

“But—“ Zelda scrubbed at her face. “But it’s my fault! Why didn’t I stop Demise before he could do that to you? What sort of goddess sends children to fight her battles?”

Time snorted, moving closer to her, careful not to invade her space till she nodded weakly. “Zelda, do you think we wouldn’t have done those things?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Ya think I wouldn’t have gone after my sister? No one had to make me!” Wind grinned. “In fact, nothing would have stopped me!”

The others nodded.

“But I saw it, the terrible things you went through! Hylia watched, and you suffered!” She gestured at them all. “What you’re still suffering! This quest—“

“Sounds to me like we have a goddess literally lookin’ out for us, even now.” Twilight crossed his arms, smirking. “Probably wouldn’t have ended as good as it has without you protecting us.”

“As good as it—“

Smiling and blushing as the newly awakened princess kissed him on the cheek—gripping the rails as the new land swung into view over the horizon—watching the reflected world bloom back into life as Lorule’s Triforce was restored—hugging the children as they rode back into the village—fields of blue flowers blooming underfoot as he rode along and watched the reconstruction—the proud smile of his father as he worked with the squadron instead of going rogue—joining Zelda and Lana as they stood before the cheering troops, Hyrule free once more—Malon looking radiant as she walked down the aisle—clutching their daughter, the first Princess of the newly founded Hyrule—

Link took her hands gently. “If Hylia didn’t care, why would she—or you—have watched out for us the whole time? If you didn’t care, why would you be so upset by what we’re going through, if our own free will?” Zelda sniffled, letting him hold her. “We don’t blame you. It’s Demise’s fault, or Ganon’s. Not Hylia’s. And not yours.”

She squeezed him, looking up at the statue. Her smile was gentle, her wings spread overhead, sheltering them all. She swore she always would watch over them.

Till the very end.

#linked universe #lu sun #lu sky #lu time #lu wild #lu warriors #lu wind #lu legend #lu hyrule #lu four #lu twilight #hylia #goddess hylia #my crazy hot take?#she is not the bad guy #this has been in my head a while #everyone says she hates them but like??? the shadow is Right There

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thollandneedy · 8 months ago

Text

Princess Leia Situation- Peter Parker

A/n: I always wanted to write this one, since i watched Friends for the first time. I hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: Sexual but not a smut; Cursing; Awkwardness

Summary: Y/n tries out a sexy costume for Valentines day, but it goes wrong

Don’t forget to share, like, comment and leave your ideas here

Bellah’s Masterlist 🪻

Peter's bedroom door was closed, as he needed privacy at that moment. Peter's mouth descended slowly between wet kisses and hickeys on his girlfriend Y/n's neck, while the girl guided his head down her sensitive body with her hand. The girl could feel the slight pressure between her legs, and her boyfriend's heart beating hard against her chest.

The sexual air was very palpable, but lately Y/n seemed to be preoccupied with routine sex. Apart from the fact that it had already been an argument with her boyfriend, the girl had been searching every day for ways to improve their sexual relationship, but no idea seemed to be enough.

They had tried positions like 69 or a tantric massage, but nothing seemed to please Peter very much. Since they had started having sex in their third month of dating, he had always tried to show off his skills or introduce different objects to stimulate his girlfriend better. The brunette wasn't hard in bed, but he liked to learn more about his tastes every day by trying different things on his own or with Y/n. St. Valentine's Day was approaching, as was the anticipation of a fuck he would never forget.

"'Babe?" Peter caught the eye of his girlfriend, who seemed to have lost her way.

"Hmm?" Y/n focuses her eyes on Peter, who looks at her with a slight smile.

"What were you thinking?" The boy uses one of his fingers to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, then kisses her.

"Just about your Valentine's Day present. I want our night to be perfect."

"My darling." Peter looks at her lovingly. "Don't worry about it. It's already going to be perfect because it's you, so whatever you have planned, don't put so much pressure on yourself."

"I know." The girl let all the air out of her chest as she replied, still staring at the image of her boyfriend with a white blouse clinging to his muscles.

Fuck, he was so damn hot

"Sorry to break the mood. Can we go back?" The girl asks, receiving a silent affirmation in response.

Peter melted into Y/n's lips once again, bringing one of his hands up to the girl's exposed thighs and squeezing. His fingers were dangerously close to her crotch, causing a sly moan to be uttered. Y/n's body seemed to vibrate at her boyfriend's touch, making her raise her waist in search of the intimate touch she so desperately needed.

"I'll take care of you, love." The brunette slid his fingers between the girl's legs, letting all her worries go to waste when he found that perfect spot.

(...)

Valentine's Day, and she still hadn't thought of what to do.

It seemed like everyone on earth had an idea for later, but she hadn't planned anything much, since Peter was going to cook for her in his apartment. Y/n woke up mentally yelling at herself, because as well as being in finals week, she hadn't liked the present she'd bought for her boyfriend. The white bag on her desk in front of the window was a reminder.

I shouldn't have bought a Grogu mug, Y/n thinks.

The silence in her house was customary, but she realized that she had woken up two hours before her lesson, giving her time to watch television and eat cereal like a child watching a cartoon. The girl in the pink sweater and slippers got out of bed, headed for the kitchen to prepare her cereal and watch Friends, as she did almost every day. Letting the streaming channel choose a random episode, she ran to the cutlery drawer to get a spoon, and finally settled down between pillows and a warm blanket.

At the end of the episode, and the cereal, his brain exploded with the best idea he could have come up with. With an optimistic smile, Y/n kissed the television and laughed.

"Rachel Green, you're a genius. I love you" The girl in pajamas says to the screen, and runs to her room to change.

Later that day, in the apartment left by May so that Peter and Y/n could spend the night alone, the girl was tapping her feet frantically. The spaghetti bolognese seemed to go down her throat like water, not even giving her time to chew it properly. The lights were off, with only a few candles that smelled of pine cones. Peter, with a worried frown, asked:

"Are you in a hurry?" The brunette laughs to himself, and can hear Y/n's heart beating faster when she is asked.

Y/n brings her eyes up to his, staring at him with her mouth smeared with red sauce. The girl silently denies it, letting out a laugh covered by a napkin. Peter leans against the table, reaching out with the napkin to wipe the rest of the sauce off his girlfriend. The girl smiles, looking down at her black-heeled feet and long-sleeved burgundy tube dress.

"You look beautiful today, you know that?" Parker compliments her.

The girl lets out a nervous laugh, looking down at her handbag on the kitchen worktop.

Oh, fuck me

"You look wonderful as always." Y/n returned the compliment to her boyfriend, who was wearing a black polo shirt.

The student picked up the glass of white wine in front of them, raising it with the intention of making a toast. Coughing dryly, Y/n copied his boyfriend's action, smiling forcedly at him. Parker had never been much of a drinker, but he couldn't deny that wine always helped him calm down before sex, or even put him in the mood when he wasn't.

"Here's to us. May we spend every future Valentine's Day together from now on." The brunette said, causing a shy smile from his girlfriend, who still had her legs flapping under the table.

"To us" The girl clinked glasses, then drank the wine in one swallow.

"Shall we go and exchange gifts?" Peter stood up, picking up the two empty glasses and empty plates from the table covered in a gray cloth with gold details.

There was no escape

"Umm, of course! That's it, let's get to the presents. Of course" The girl straightens her babylissed locks and puts them to one side.

Peter sits down in front of her at the table once again, but now with a small black and white bag with a red handle. As much as he would have liked to hide the brand of the bag, any woman could recognize that it was from Sephora.

"I snooped through your Sephora bag, but you had more than 100 items curated and I still haven't been promoted to work in another area with Stark." Y/n laughs. "So, I preferred to give you this" Peter hands the bag to his girlfriend, watching her expectantly as she opens it.

"Peter! I really loved it." Y/n smiles as she finds a highlighter and a Fenty gloss. The girl stood up, walked over to her boyfriend and hugged him.

"Well, yours..." Y/n looked once more at the bag that held the mug. "It's not here right now." Y/n tries to explain.

"You can give it to me later, love. No problem." Peter nods.

"No! It's not that, I need you to wait in your room, so I can give you the present."

Peter makes a curious face, but not for a million years would he turn down a sexual offer as a Valentine's Day present.

"All right" The brunette heads for his room, closing the door and waiting for the gift his girlfriend has prepared.

Shit! Fuck!" Y/n looked in her other bag for the mysterious gift she had rented from the costume store the afternoon after her last lesson. Stumbling over her own heels, the girl locked herself in the bathroom at the end of the corridor, cursing herself for coming up with such a miraculous idea at the last minute.

Her hands tried to add a bun to her hair, securing it with bobby pins that fell to the floor because of the cramped room.

"Shit!" Y/n curses as she loses the clips on the floor, then bangs her head against the sink.

The gold bikini seemed small in relation to her breasts, so she tried to make them fit without them slipping out of the factory. Her hands tried to make them fit, but every now and then, the knot on her back came undone, or one of her breasts slid to the side. When she looked in the mirror, her hair still didn't look the way it needed to. The side bun looked more like a bird's nest than a space bun. Groaning in discontent, Y/n grabbed her cell phone from the closed toilet and tried to do another type of hair that wouldn't cost her soul to make it perfect.

Peter, on the other hand, was undressed on his single bed, trying to find some position to receive his girlfriend. He didn't want to look like a sexy fireman on a calendar cover, but he didn't know where to put his hands, or even if he was going to cover himself with the rumpled sheet on his bed.

A few minutes later, he was distracted by his cell phone, which was vibrating with Twitter notifications. As long as Y/n was taking, his lack of concentration meant that 15 minutes passed too quickly. Lying on his stomach with a pillow on his chest, the brunette commented on posts and was distracted by memes that appeared on his timeline every five minutes he slid further from the beginning.

"Peter?" Y/n's voice called his name, causing the boy to drop his cell phone and leave the shooting game he was playing on his cell phone.

"Yes?" The brunette lay down on the bed, covering most of his body as if he were already ready for bed, and switched off the main light in the room so that his lamp would be the only source of light in the room filled with posters and books.

Peter's bedroom door slowly opened, revealing his girlfriend's body in the most iconic Star Wars bikini. His girlfriend's breasts were perfectly embraced by the golden part of the bikini, while her waist was covered only by a long red skirt with golden details at the top. Her hair was in a messy braid, but nothing really said how Y/n looked. Even though many of the details were poorly finished, and especially the top was too small for her breasts, Peter looked at her as if she were too perfect for him. The boy cracked a slow smile, and his eyes seemed to pop out of his face with every step closer to his girlfriend.

"Y/n" Peter said, processing the surprise his girlfriend had given him. And without even realizing the movement of his body, one of his hands went to his mouth in an expression of surprise.

He hated it

Oh my God

He hated it or he thinks I'm pathetic

"I know! I know, it was a stupid idea, I'm sorry." The girl closes her eyes in frustration and shame. "I bought you a grogru mug, but I wanted to do something better because you always make everything for me so perfect, and I know how much you like Star Wars and I thought it would be cool to do the same as Rachel did in Friends and" The girl is cut off by a quick kiss.

"I don't have the hots for Princess Leia, but you look stunning." Peter holds both of the girl's hands, looking her up and down.

"Really?"

" Yes." Peter smiles. "And by the way, I broke my favorite mug last night. I really needed another one." The brunette smiles, which is answered by a loose laugh from his girlfriend.

"Aren't I an idiot?" The girl shrugged, looking at herself once again.

"Not at all." Peter replied, using his index finger to lift the chin of the girl, who watched him with innocent eyes. "Are you going to let me put my lightsaber on you now?"

"PETER!"

#tom holland #tom holland x fem #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #peter parker smut #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker oneshot #peter parker #friends #mcu!peter parker #mcu!peter x reader

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wlntrsldler · 11 months ago

Text

Three Hundred and Seventy-One Days | Luke Castellan

a/n: not canon-compliant! i hate this actually but i needed to write something to get me back in the zone! sunshine reader because i wanted a broody luke lol.

i. Three days.

Right before the sun sets behind the hill at Camp Half Blood, there's a chill in the air that hits Luke's skin in a way that makes him feel like he's back on the roof of his house in Connecticut. He found out about it when he returned from his failed quest when he was searching for a moment of solace, away from the pitiful eyes of the campers, away from the voice that haunted his dreams. Perched on a branch, hidden by the shade of the leaves, leaning against the bark of the tree with sticky amber clinging to the material of his orange shirt, Luke sits there until the sun disappears for the day.

It reminds him of the days he would crawl out of his bedroom window to escape the sounds of his mother's incoherent mumbling. He would sit there in nothing but a thin t-shirt and his cargo shorts, goosebumps rising on his skin, as he talked to himself. It was a bad habit he picked up in his younger years. He kept himself company at home because his mom didn't talk to him much, not really, and when she did, when her words made sense for once, all Luke could do was count down the minutes until he lost his mother again.

Before he was old enough to understand his heritage, who his father was, he used to pray to an entity he didn't believe in to give his mother moments of clarity, slivers of coherence so he at least knew something, anything, about the woman he called mom. But after the first time Luke's wishes were granted, he stopped praying. Somehow it was more painful watching his mother drift in and out of consciousness than it was living with a stranger he knew he loved, but knew nothing about.

For a year, that spot on the tree was a secret. Nobody knew that Luke would climb up there every day just to feel the breeze against his skin. Nobody questioned why the Hermes head counselor would disappear at the same time, until you came along.

"Whatcha doin' up there?"

Luke nearly lost his balance on the branch at the sound of your voice from under him. He looked down to see you smiling up at him, hands laced together behind your back. You were eighteen, the same as him, and when he first heard of your arrival, Luke was jealous. You got to have 18 years of childhood, while he was only granted half of that. It didn't seem fair.

"You should be at dinner," Luke replied, leaning back against the tree. The sun made the sky a soft orange color. The darkness of the night was creeping in through the corners of the sky, the chill he searches for each night engulfed him.

"To be fair, so should you, head counselor," You replied, analyzing the indents in the bark of the tree trunk that formed from Luke's constant climbing. You slotted your feet in the crevices, making your way to the tree branch beside Luke's. The two branches were close to each other, growing steadily until they almost touched at the tips. "Woah, this view is unreal."

"Be careful," He mumbled, clenching his jaw. "I'm not gonna take you to the infirmary if you fall and break a bone."

"Relax," You chuckled, situating yourself. "I can handle myself."

Luke nodded once and turned his attention back to the skyline. In this light, the scar across his cheek was prominent. It's healed well enough, but it still left a bump across his flesh that made Luke queasy every time he looked at it for too long. The two of you sat in silence as the sun disappeared. Luke tilted his head to look at you, only to find that you were already staring at him. He rubbed the side of his face against his shoulder as if trying to wipe away the scar on his shirt, "What are you doing here?"

You shrugged, "Not really into the whole offerings thing, to be honest."

"So you decided to wander into the woods alone?" Luke asked, "That's dangerous. There's a lot of things out here that you wouldn't believe. You can get hurt."

"But it's okay when you do it?"

"I know how to fight," Luke found himself taking on a defensive position. "You just got here."

"That doesn't mean I don't know how to fight," You replied. Your voice was calm, despite the slight bite to Luke's tone. "Just because I didn't spend my childhood playing with swords and bows and arrows doesn't mean I don't know how to fend for myself, y'know."

"The things out here are different from schoolyard bullies. I don't think you understand that."

"Are we going to ignore that I fought a hellhound on my way here or...?"

"You fought a hellhound?"

Luke wouldn't have guessed that by the way you walked into the Hermes cabin, all smiles and golden flecks of color in the irises of your eyes. You spoke in a preppy tone and he nearly had to grab his siblings by their ear to drag them away from you. If he was a betting man, he would bet that you were a child of Aphrodite.

"Mhm," You hummed, "See, I'm not so helpless."

"I didn't say you were."

"Yeah, but you implied it," You shrugged, not deterred by his tone. "Anyways, are you gonna tell me what you're doing here?"

"Well, I was trying to get some privacy," He replied. He should've been annoyed at the intrusion, but he couldn't bring himself to be upset with you as much as he should've been. "But that didn't go as planned."

"Sorry, sorry," You chuckled, putting your hands up in defense. "Didn't know keeping you company was a no-no. Maybe I do have some things to learn about camp after all."

He scoffed, "Hanging out with me should be the least of your worries."

"I dunno, I always seem to gravitate towards the broody types."

"I'm not broody."

"Right," You laughed. You turned to look at him, jaw dropping when you realized he was serious. "When was the last time you smiled? And not those fake, polite smiles you give to strangers trying to make small talk in the grocery store line, you know?"

No, he didn't know. He didn't go out much, much less to the grocery store to have conversations about the rising prices of produce or the lack of real milk options due to the infiltration of the non-dairy industry.

"I smile all the time," Luke replied, eyebrows furrowing in thought as he tried to remember the last time he smiled at someone. "I smile at campers."

"That's because it's your job, silly!" You giggled, shaking your head. "When was the last time you smiled just because?"

Luke pursed his lips, countering, "When was the last time you didn't smile?"

"When I was fighting the hellhound."

Luke felt his lips quirk up at that. It was a quick-witted response, he'll give you that. He stopped it from becoming anything more and cleared his throat.

"Okay, I'll leave you to it," You sighed, carefully stretching your legs down to the first indent on the tree. You skillfully climbed down and landed on your feet with a thud, "See you around, Luke."

Luke's mouth felt dry at the sound of his name leaving your lips. He was never a fan of his name before. He thought it sounded generic and unoriginal, but when you said it, it didn't sound half as bad as he thought it was. His stomach churned in a way that was foreign to him.

"Hopefully, not here!" He called out, watching as your figure retreated back to the main grounds. "Privacy, remember that!"

"I like the broody types, remember that!" You called back, waving to him before you disappeared into the maze of trees.

ii. Twelve days.

"You lied."

You looked up from your book with an eyebrow raised as you stared at the counselor at the foot of your bed. Luke was standing there, the signature stern look etched on his face. You placed your bookmark in your book, sitting up on your bed as you smiled at him, "Excuse me?"

He had his arms crossed over his chest, the beads of his camp necklace resting on the tops of his knuckles, "You lied. You didn't fight a hellhound."

"Okay, so I didn't fight a hellhound," You said, dragging on the word 'fight' for emphasis. "But I encountered a hellhound."

"Which you befriended."

"Which I befriended," You confirmed, "I named him Stanley. Wanna meet him?"

"No," Luke replied quickly. "That shouldn't even be allowed in here."

"He's sweet," You tutted, slipping your feet into your shoes as you stood up. "Give him a chance, I swear you'll love him."

"You're keeping a hellhound as a pet?"

"He's just a baby," You cooed, jutting out your bottom lip.

Luke felt his face twitch in half-annoyance and half-fondness. He didn't know if he found your naivete dangerous or charming, or both, but he was scared for you. You were too trusting for your own good, "He is not a baby. He's a monster."

"Don't talk about Stanley like that."

Luke rolled his eyes, falling into the same rhythm as your steps, "You don't realize how dangerous this is, Y/N."

"Here you go with the danger thing again," You teased, nudging him. Luke's breath got caught in his chest. Your simple touch seemed to burn his skin. Sparks erupted across his entire body. "Told you, I'll be fine."

"Not every monster you encounter can be defeated by the power of friendship. You can't rely on some kumbaya shit."

"Kumbaya?" You snorted, looking at him with an unreadable expression on your face. You scrunched your face up, a tiny smile tugging on your lips. "You're so...."

"I'm so what?" He questioned, planting his feet on the ground.

"Odd."

He tried not to take offense to that because while your words were like a dagger to his heart, the way you said it showed that you didn't mean it in a bad way. You seemed to be trying to figure him out, pressing his buttons, trying to see what made him tick. And you were succeeding. Luke never ventured to talk to new campers unless he was forced to by Chiron, but he couldn't fight the pull you had on him.

"Broody and odd," He said, resuming his steps, "I'm swooning."

The full belly laugh that escaped you made Luke's steps falter. Campers surrounding you looked at you, confused as to what Luke could've said that made you react that way. Surely, the Hermes Head Counselor wasn't that funny. He wasn't known to crack jokes, not since he returned. You couldn't help it, though. He said it in such a deadpan way that made your sides hurt from laughing so much.

"Just my type," You teased.

Luke didn't like how his cheeks were warming up at your comment. He's not one to flirt or be flirted with. He found girls attractive, sure, but most of them were too intimidated to talk to him so he never really had experience in that department. But he supposed since you grew up in the world, you were used to doing things like this. He wondered if you knew the effect you had on him.

"Dinner is supposed to be good tonight," He said, changing the subject. He was looking everywhere but you, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks that seemed to not want to subside.

"Oh, no you don't," You shook your head. "You are not gonna tempt me into going to dinner just so you can hide away in your tree. I'll be there, Castellan."

He grimaced. He was hoping that you'd fall for the trap, but he was learning quickly that you weren't as gullible as he hoped you'd be. Luke sighed, accepting defeat. "Fine, but can you just be careful? You've been lucky that there weren't any creatures lurking around."

"Why don't we just go together?" You asked, "So you can stop worrying about my safety and all."

"I'm not worried about your safety," He lied through his teeth. The idea wasn't bad though. It would keep him from wondering if you were attacked on your way to meet him. A shiver ran down his spine as he thought about it. He didn't like this weird protectiveness he had over you. He didn't even know you. "But fine. Meet me at the Hermes cabin after they ring for dinner."

"You got it," You saluted him playfully as you walked away, skipping to meet up with members of the Apollo cabin. How did you manage to make so many friends so quickly? And why did you insist on sticking with him when it's clear that you had other friends you could be bothering instead of him?

Luke tried not to think about it too much as he continued on with his day, but no matter how hard he tried, his mind kept pulling him back to you. During his lessons with other campers, he took mental notes of what moves he should teach you, just in case anything happened so you'd be prepared. During arts and crafts, he found himself reaching for the gold glitter because it reminded him of your eyes. This caused raised eyebrows from other campers since it was well-known that the counselor didn't like glitter post-Glitter Gate where he was shaking out glitter from his curls for days.

By the time dinner rolled around, he was thankful he stopped thinking about you, but soon realized that it was worse now that you were in front of him, all smiles and banter as you always were. It was getting harder to contain the redness of his cheeks as you complimented him in your own way.

"Lead the way, Castellan," You grinned.

Luke couldn't help but return your smile.

iii. Sixty-six days.

"Stanley, down," You instructed, leaning over to scratch the hellhound behind its ears. "Good boy."

Luke's sword was raised in a fighting stance as he watched you giggle as the hellhound nuzzled into your touch. You somehow managed to make him agree to meet the monster. Pathetically, it didn't take much for Luke to agree. It took you batting your eyelashes at him with a small pout and he reluctantly agreed to meet Stanley.

"Luke," You called him over, still petting the hellhound. "Come on, he won't do anything to you."

"I'm good right here," He grunted, holding onto his sword. "If he tries anything, one of us should be ready and you obviously have your guard down."

"He won't," You assured, "He's sweet."

"Nothing from the underworld is sweet, Y/N."

"You don't think I'm sweet?"

Luke rolled his eyes. You'd been claimed by your father, Hades, a few days ago. It made sense the more he thought about it. The hellhound wasn't sent to attack you, but to protect you. It was sent by your father to guide you to Camp Half Blood. "You're not technically from there."

"Same shit," You shrugged, patting the spot next to you on the grass for him to join you. "Come on, Luke. Come meet Stanley."

It was against everything he believed in. He shouldn't walk over to you to pet a monster like it was a stray dog on the side of the road, waiting to be rescued. But his feet seemed to have a mind of their own because before he knew it, he was walking over to you, sword tossed somewhere beside him to keep his hands free to touch the surprisingly soft fur of the hellhound.

The hellhound purred under Luke's touch, gentle and loving. If Luke ignored the scary color of its eyes, he would confidently say that it was just a dog. Luke's shoulders relaxed, "Okay, he's not half bad."

"Told you," You said, leaning against him. Luke's hands froze for a second, making the hellhound whine. He resumed his scratches, not wanting to take his chances and angering the dog. "See? Not all of us from the underworld are scary monsters."

"You're not from there," He repeated, "Stop saying that you are."

"Hades is my dad, Luke," You whispered. "So I am. I am a part of him."

"You're nothing like the gods."

There was something in his voice that made your heart pound in your chest. It was no secret that Luke's relationship with his father, and all of the gods for that matter, was strained. Luke saying that you were nothing like them with such sincerity made your head spin. It felt definite. It felt like a fact that he could never think of you as that.

"Could be nice though," You joked, trying to cover up the swell in your chest with humor. "Immortality and all."

"Nah, this one life is enough for me, I think."

"What? You're not shooting for rebirth?"

If anyone else would've asked him the same question a year ago, even a few weeks ago, he would've said no. If any of his other lives were like this one, he would decline the request if he could. All that he'd gone through in this lifetime was enough.

But now you were asking him that question with a twinkle of hope in your eyes that made him wonder if he'd judged this life too soon. Maybe there was more to life than fighting and running. Maybe the moments of life when he sits on a tree branch watching the sunset, or when he's yelling at his siblings to stop running in the cabin, or hell, even when he was petting a goddamn hellhound, were enough to make him wish for another shot at this life thing.

Maybe he just needed to learn a thing or two from you. If he could continue to know you in each lifetime, maybe he'll turn out fine.

"Maybe," Luke poked his tongue out the corner of his mouth. He blinked, "I don't know."

"Keep an open mind to it, is all I ask," You said. "I wanna find you in every universe just so I can annoy the shit out of you in each one."

He chuckled softly, not missing the smile that widened on your face as you watched him crack. "I changed my mind. No rebirth for me. I can only handle you in so many lifetimes."

"You'll grow to love me."

I know, Luke wanted to say, and that's the part that scares me the most. Throughout his years at Camp Half Blood, Luke prided himself in knowing that when push comes to shove, he can do what's necessary to succeed. It's what made him the perfect Head Counselor, the best swordsman that Camp Half Blood has seen in years. It's what made him a hero.

But now he didn't feel like that was the case anymore. He was growing soft, weak. He'd spent so much time trying to protect you and keep you from danger that he forgot about protecting himself. You found his Achilles heel and well, Luke was just waiting until he surrendered to you.

He opened his mouth to speak, "If Stanley doesn't kill me first."

If Luke could bottle up the sound of your laughter, he would.

iv. Three hundred and sixty-five days.

"Who is that?"

Luke followed Percy's eyes to the other side of the field. His lips turned up at the corners as he saw you waving at him with a smile on your face. Luke waved back with the same enthusiasm, confusing the boy beside him.

"That's Y/N," Luke responded, picking up his steps to meet you halfway. "That's my girlfriend."

"You have a girlfriend?"

"I know, shocker!" You teased, placing a kiss on Luke's cheek. Luke wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you closer, completely oblivious to the grimace that graced Percy's face. "Mr. Stick-in-the-mud head counselor has a girlfriend."

"Hey!"

Percy scrunched his face up, "You kinda are a stick-in-the-mud. No offense."

"Offense taken," Luke scoffed, poking your side. "Y/N, this is Percy. He's new here."

You stretched out a hand in greeting, "Nice to meet ya, Percy. Welcome to Camp Half Blood."

"Are you always this preppy?"

"She is," Luke said, shrugging. "Nice change of pace from the rest of us, don't you think?"

"Sure," He nodded, eyeing the both of you. Luke's arm didn't move from your waist and you didn't seem to mind. He was too young to understand why you and Luke didn't want to have any personal space. "Are you joining us on the tour that Luke is giving me of Camp Half Blood?"

"Wish I could, but the Stolls are planning to TP the Ares cabin as a prank and I should probably stop them before someone gets maimed at Capture the Flag tomorrow," You cringed.

Luke sighed, dropping his head to your shoulder. You tangled your fingers through his curls, trying to offer some comfort, "I told them not to do that."

"When have your siblings ever listened to you?"

"They used to before you came along!" Luke groaned, "But now they only listen to the pretty counselor."

"Must run in the family," You teased.

"Shut up," Luke grumbled, lifting his head up. Percy could see the blush on Luke's cheeks and he cringed. He hoped he'd never end up like this when he became a teenager. It was obvious you had Luke wrapped around your finger. "Go stop them before Lee gives us a lecture on the dangers of resorting to violence. Again."

"I'm going, I'm going," You laughed. You placed a quick kiss to Luke's lips before waving goodbye to the two boys. Before you were out of earshot, you turned around, "Tree later?"

"See you there!" Luke replied, grinning at you until you made it across the field. He turned to Percy, scratching the back of his neck, "Sorry about that. Where were we?"

"Archery."

"Ah, right! Archery," Luke nodded, continuing his steps, "It's down this way."

Percy followed Luke through the field, staring at the signs that pointed in different directions. Camp Half Blood was huge. This tour was definitely going to take longer than he anticipated. Not wanting to continue with a lull in the conversation, Percy spoke up, "How long have you and Y/N been together?"

Percy figured that Luke would have a lot to say about you which would fill the silence. He was right. Luke smiled at the boy, "A few months. She got here last year and it's been us two ever since. Took me a minute to ask her out, though."

"Well if you liked her, why did you wait? That doesn't make much sense."

"It was complicated," He replied, "I didn't really accept that I liked her until way later. Kinda kept my feelings to myself for a while."

"Is this what being a teenager is like?" Percy asked, cringing at Luke's words. He always imagined that falling in love with someone was easy. If two people liked each other, they should be together, right?

"Yeah," Luke laughed, patting Percy on the back. "Enjoy your early years, Perce. It gets worse from here."

"Geez, you really know how to inspire confidence in someone."

The laugh that escaped Luke reminded him too much of you. There were parts of you that weaseled their way into him. He didn't understand why you laughed so hard at his deadpan comments before, but now that he was on the receiving end of it with Percy, he saw why.

Percy reminded Luke a lot of himself, back when he was younger. It was a weird thing to meet a foil of yourself, someone who you could've been if things had been different. Luke wondered if he'd be like Percy if his life hadn't been so cruel. Not that Percy's life was all sunshine and rainbows, either. Luke heard through the grapevine that Percy lost his mom during the battle with the minotaur, but at least he had a mom that he knew. He had a mom that cared for him.

Luke was dreading the day Percy got claimed. Something told him that it would cause a ripple effect. Start things that Luke wasn't ready for, not yet. Maybe he'll never be ready for it. Had he known that he'd meet you, maybe he wouldn't have said yes to it. Maybe if you had stumbled into Camp Half Blood a day earlier, he wouldn't be facing this.

Luke faked a smile, shaking away those thoughts, "Come on, archery's just around the corner."

v. Three hundred and seventy-one days.

"Thought I'd find you here."

Luke closed his eyes at the familiar voice that joined him on the tree branch. The separate branch that you used to it on morphed into his own. Two branches intertwined, a simple work of nature, but it felt like a symbol. An omen.

The fireworks illuminated the night sky. Luke had never been up here this late before. The air was cold.

"What are you doing here?"

You let out a dry chuckle, "Dejavu for a second there."

"Y/N."

You gulped, slowly inching towards him. There was a crease between his eyebrows as he stared ahead. You sighed, "I came looking for you."

"Why?"

"Luke, don't do this."

He sniffed, rubbing his eyes with his balled-up fists. He winced as he put too much pressure on his cheek, his scar stinging at the contact. It's been more sensitive lately the more he spoke to Kronos. He shook his head, "I have to."

"No, you don't," You pleaded, placing a hand on his arm. "It's not too late."

"It is. Don't you understand?" He sobbed, "It's too late."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want to break your heart," He whispered. He felt silly saying it out loud, but it made sense to him at the time. He couldn't bare to see your face when he told you about everything. That's why he was going to leave without saying goodbye.

"How's that going for you?"

How you managed to make him laugh even during this, even during the end, was beyond Luke's understanding. He wished you didn't have an effect on him like this. It would make things so much easier.

"I'm sorry."

"For breaking my heart or for betraying all of us?"

Luke licked his lips, "Both."

You removed your hand from his arm. Luke shivered without your touch. "I'll see you again, yeah?"

"I don't know."

"I know," Tears pricked your eyes. Maybe it was the shock of it all, but you were calm. Too calm. It didn't feel real that just a few steps away, camp was in disarray because of the boy beside you. "Rebirth, remember? In every lifetime."

"Sure," He said. Maybe the hope of it all will be enough to get him through this. "I love you."

"I love you, too," You said, leaning over to place a last kiss on his lips. You pulled away as you felt your tears mixing with his, "Go, they'll come looking here soon."

Luke nodded and made his way down the tree. You watched him fade away in the distance.

#frances writes #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

Text

The Lonely Souls Club 9

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: in my feels.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Reader

Bucky leaves a dark blue towel on the bar for you. When the door shuts, you stay as you are. You sit on the lid of the toilet and contemplate the walls. The tub laps with running water, lulling your tired mind and body.

You sigh. Embarrassment nips at the base of you skull. You close your eyes. You don’t even let your doctors see you like that. When you try to describe your pain, they don’t seem to listen anyway. Yet Bucky, he sees more than you want him too. Things you don’t realise.

Well, you guess he is a hero. He saved you before and it’s his job to help others in trouble. This feels like more. It feels like too much. You don’t deserve any of this.

You glance over at your cane, another reminder that you can’t give as much as he can. That you can’t ever pay him back for this. Does he get that?

You strip off your shirt and fold it. You put it on the counter and roll your bra up your torso. You wear the ones without hooks. You can pull them on and off easy. Then the real taste faces you.

You use the corner of the granite to push yourself up. You grunt and whimper. You get your socks off and your pants. You have to stop. You’re out of breath. The pain is like a red hot iron in your thigh bone. You manage to get your underwear down and step out of them clumsily.

You catch yourself against the tub. You need another break before you get yourself in. You splash into the water and barely keep from fall over completely. You let the hot water steam over you and lean back.

The tub is deep and spacious. You cling to the sides with your hands. You shudder and your eyes tinge hotly. The tears fall before you can stem them. You don’t notice until they dribble off your chin.

All of it, the pain, the stress, the uncertainty, the prospect of being left without a home, it boils in the water with you. You don’t know how much more you can take. You stifle your sobs with your fist, inhaling deeply to keep them in your throat. You can’t break all the way.

You moan as you sit forward and shut off the faucet. You lean back and shut your eyes. Right now, you don’t need to think about it all. Not about how to get more money or how your stomach is aching or even how you’ll pay Bucky back. You just need that moment to forget.

Bucky

Bucky sits on the bottom stair and listens. He can hear her clearly as he focuses above. He can hear her heartbeat chugging as she struggles to move herself around. She grunts in agony and he flinches. Then the water splashes below her staggered movements. He wants to go up and help but he knows he can’t. He’s already pushing it. She’s stubborn and he knows how self-defeating that can be.

He closes his eyes as he keeps his ears pricked. She sniffles then heaves. And another sob follows, swallowed up as the water stirs. It’s as if he can feel her despair and pain. He knows those kind of tears. The exhausted ones. The ones when you just want everything to stop.

She shuts off the faucet with a whimper. He drops his head into his hands and splays his fingers wide. He combs them through his short hair as he blows through his lips. His phone is buzzing. Whoever it is can fuck off.

She doesn’t move for a long while. Only long enough for the water to cool. She sits up, her skin squeaking against the porcelain and she pulls the stopper. He listens to the water drain.

More grunting as she lifts herself up. He shifts and tilts his ear up the staircase. There’s a tense silence, dangling as she holds her breath. Her heart is pumping wildly.

*Crash*

He’s on his feet in an instant. He races up the stairs and slams into the bathroom door. It’s not locked. He bursts in without a thought. She squeals as he slides to a stop before the bath mat.

She on her side, the towel is haphazardly across her wet skin, her thighs are exposed but she hides her stomach and chest. She hugs the cotton and wheezes. Her eyes find his in horror.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“Are you okay?” He bends to touch her shoulder.

“I... just wanted the towel,” she murmurs. “I was okay... I can do it. I... I can’t do it.”

She’s arguing with herself. He looks around. Her cane is all the way by the counter. He rubs her bare skin and recoils, stopping his touch from straying too far. His eyes are tugging toward her exposed body as it is.

He reaches to help her adjust the towel, “can I help you?”

She nods and hides behind her eyelids, covering her face with her hand. He hesitates, trying to figure out the best way to do it. First, she needs to be comfortable.

“I’m going to get the towel around you,” he explains. She gulps and dips her chin furiously. She’s horrified.

He gets the towel wrapped around her as best as he can. A zing sparks in his fingers as he touches her thigh. He holds his breath and hooks his hand under her side.

“Alright, I'll sit you up first,” he continues.

She makes a noise. She's too mortified to speak. He sits her up and she moans. He leans her against him and wrap his right arm around her back.

“Okay, I’m going to get you off the floor now. I need you to tell me if it hurts too much,” he instructs.

“Always hurts...” she mumbles.

He slides his arm under her knees. He lifts her, first on his knees, then he plants a foot, then the other. He brings her up and he turns to the door.

“The bed is made,” he assures her.

She sits in his arms stiffly. He carries her out and down the hall. He puts her on the bed, the towel hanging open at her back. His fingers tickle her bottom as he pulls away. He didn’t mean to. Really. As nice as she feels, he didn’t mean to. As much as he wants to touch all of her.

“I’ll get you some clothes,” he clears his throat and backs away.

He goes to the dresser and opens a drawer. He pulls out the grey shirt with military font that reads US Army. With that, he grabs a pair of his plaid boxers. He takes the tautly folded stack to her. She hugs the towel again and stares at the ceiling.

“I’ll let you get dressed. I’ll check in shortly.” He assures her.

She sniffles. He understands. He looks down at his vibranium arm. He should take it off for her but he also needs it to help her.

“Right,” he turns.

He walks out and shuts the door gently. He goes downstairs reluctantly and grabs his phone from his jacket. Sam called. Several times. And sent a dozen messages. The phone rattles again. He doesn’t have time for that dumbass.

He answers anyway.

“What?”

“So, you were in a hurry,” Sam snorts.

“Sam.”

“It’s that girl.”

“Shut up.”

“I get it, dude. She’s cute. But I really think she has enough problems--”

“Leave me alone.”

He hangs up. Sam is so nosy. He should have never asked him to help out. He shouldn’t have ever let him know about her. She needs to be protected from the world. He doesn’t get that. He can’t understand that. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be different.

He scrolls through the menu. He taps the icon and waits for the app to open up. How... alright, um... American? That sounds like normal food. He taps the category and scrolls through the options. There’s a chicken place. Chicken and veg, can’t go wrong...

He picks out a Meal for Two deal and adds it to the cart after the third try. Right, checkout... tip... Too many steps.

He should get her something in the meantime. He goes to the kitchen and fills a glass of water. He looks around aimlessly, shuffling through the cupboard and fridge. Granola? It will do.

He goes upstairs. He knocks with his knuckles as the bag of granola rattles. Her heart flips.

“Yes?” She calls out.

“I brought you some water.” He replies.

“Okay,” she says.

He takes the weak invitation. He enters and finds her under the covers. She sits against the pillows, her arms crossed.

“Do you need more pillows?” He asks as he puts the glass on the nightstand.

“I’m fine,” she barely whispers.

“I brought you a snack. For now. Food is on the way.”

She doesn’t look at him. She stares at her lap. “You didn’t have to.”

“Stop. Let me help,” he insists and gently places the bag by her leg. “I have a heating pad.”

She shrugs, “thank you. It's... a lot.”

“It’s the right thing to do,” he says. “I can bring you some books or something to do? I have a tablet. Never use it.”

She shakes her head.

He shifts on his feet awkwardly. He wish she wasn’t so scared. He wish he could just tell her everything. That he knows exactly what she’s feeling. That they are the same. That he will do anything to make her feel better. To keep her safe. To take care of her.

“You’ll let me know what you need,” he says.

“I don’t need anything,” she squeaks.

“But when you do,” he sighs.

She nods.

He stares at her. She’s trembling. She’s in pain. All because she fell. Because he let her fall! He should have been adamant. She needs help or it will all be worse.

“You know, it’s okay to need help.”

“I know I need help,” she snips. He’s never heard her speak so sharply. “I know that I’m broken.”

“I didn’t say that--”

“I’m broken and I’m a loser. I have nothing to give you, Bucky.” She lifts her head, her eyes hooded with pain. “I can’t pay you back for any of this.”

“I know.”

She frowns, “so why are you doing all this?”

As much as he wants to tell her the truth, to tell her how he feels, that he has nothing else in this world that makes him care. Only her. He knows he can’t. Not yet. She’s not ready.

“You know, I was alive during The Great Depression. All sorts of people needed help. Including me, my mom, my dad, my sister,” he explains. “They needed help but they also helped others. My ma, she used to make these big pots of stew and when some beggar walked by, she’d hand over her bowl. She thought we didn’t know that her bowl was full of water, but I did.

“I used to steal canned tomatoes and leave them in the pantry for her to find. She always thought she forgot because she was so hungry...” He shrugs and sniffs. He doesn’t talk about his family. “My dad came and got me from the base when the MPs caught me sneaking around the mess. He almost lost his job but he never told her. And those government issued crushed tomatoes kept going missing at the camp.”

She looks at him intently. Her face softens and her eyes gleam. She wiggles her nose and lowers her head.

“You must miss them,” she says.

“Sometimes,” he admits. “But I keep them close by doing what I know they’d want me to. Like helping those who need it.”

She doesn’t say anything. He watches her for a moment before he snaps himself out of his trance. He inhales deeply a scratches his neck.

“I’ll go wait for the food,” he says.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #avengers #the lonely souls club #mcu #marvel #winter soldier #captain america

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