#spring enters my heart softly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

illyrian-dreamer · 8 months

Text

Our girl – Part 3

Summary: Deeming you unfit for a mission, the Inner Circle have betrayed your trust and shattered your life’s mission to avenge you sister. And the two males you love most were at the centre of it all.

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: Grief/depression

The Spring Court lake had weathered the same depletion as the rest of the state. Empty wooden cabins sat abandoned and unused, the sand had turned grey and the flourishing fruit trees that once aligned it hacked down to stumps. Hybern had drained Spring Court of so much of its natural resource and beauty.

“It’s a disturbing sight, isn’t it?” your uncle muttered, placing two steaming mugs of tea at the table beside you, joining you on the porch. His bark-like skin had weathered and aged since the last time you had seen him, untold sorrows hiding in his deep within the ripples. What atrocities had he witnessed during the war? And what bargains had he had to make to keep his own cabin standing amongst a sea of homes destroyed?

“I’m so sorry Finbark. I should have returned to help you sooner,” you said, your heart clenching as the males eyes warmed with a pain smile.

“I did not write for a reason. I would never want to drag you into this mess,” he said, waving his hand to the desolate land around him. “Not when you were so aligned with an enemy court.”

You raised the mug to your lips, casting your eyes to the lake before blowing on the hot liquid. He was right, you had no business entering Spring Court at a time like that, never mind that you were completely preoccupied with serving your duties alongside Cassian and Azriel. Gods, your heart ached more than it should just at the thought of them.

You cleared your throat quietly, trying not to dwell. “It sparkles the same,” you spoke distantly, distracting yourself. “The lake, I mean. It still sparkles in the way I remember.”

Finbark chuckled, his eyes warming again. “You and Meryl spent so much time in that lake, I remember your parents debating on how they would have to bribe the two of you out of it.”

You forced a smile back, clenching your mug a little tighter.

“It was the same for my cousin’s nephews, they adored playing in the water, they would beg their Aunt to come stay for weeks on end.”

“Whatever happened to them?” you asked, unsure if you could handle the truth.

“Of Alis and the boys?” He paused then, clearing his throat. “They fled to Summer, with some luck and no deniable assistance from your High Lady.”

You had to physically swallow at Feyre’s mention, but the relief was greater to know Finbark’s family was safe. “Well, she’s no longer my High Lady,” you corrected.

“I’m sorry, I don't mean to upset you.”

“Not at all Fin,” you smiled softly before drawing a deep breath. “I know she is a generous and caring ruler, and I’m grateful your family is safe. I only wish I could have done more.”

“I was protected too Y/N. How do you think it is my home is still standing, or that I am here at all? I’m clever, but not that clever,” he winked. “I have no doubt my relation to Alis and your parents kept me well and safe during the war. No wagons found the trail to my home, no one knocked on my door demanding answers or resources, or to pick up a weapon and fight. It was if I didn't exist at all.”

It clicked then – of course. Alis had been Feyre’s maid at the Spring Manor. Feyre had spoken of her so fondly. And you had been so worried for Finbark’s safety, confiding in your High Lady who had merely comforted you at the time, reassuring you that he would be safe. She and Rhys never mentioned their connection, or the magic they spent to keep Finbark hidden. Your heart ached at the reminder of their generosity.

“Y/N?” your uncle waved a rippled hand in front of your face, and you blinked before straightening, drawn back from your thoughts.

Fin sighed with a knowing look. “You don't need to feel guilty about the magic that kept me safe, sweetheart. They wronged you in a very serious way.”

Your eyebrows clenched as you blinked back the sting of tears. “But they are good people Fin, the lot of them.”

Finbark’s hand rested atop of your forearm, his face soft with understanding. “It changes very little, young spark. The damage is all the same.” Your uncle once again waved his hand out to the barren land around you.

You stood now, setting your tea down – you needed to get out of your head. “I will make one more trip to town tonight, there are some homes still without firewood.”

“At this time? You’ve been working since dawn Y/N, why not rest? It’s not as cold tonight.”

But you were already reaching for your axe. The more you moved, the less you would have to think. “It’ll be alright uncle, I’ll return before midnight.”

He didn't say anything further as you sheathed the weapon to your back, heading up the trail to town where the sun had already began to set.

————

It had been five months since you had found home in Spring Court.

At first, you found work serving your uncle’s town. Much of the remaining fae had rural upbringing, with little skill to sustain themselves after their farms, once lush with crops and animals, were destroyed.

Word spread quick of help from an outside court, and when you were sure the locals could stand on their own two feet, you began to travel, finding town after town with more fae in need. So began your course, trailing further away from your uncle’s cabin at the border and nearing the centre of the court.

Magic found you easier here too. Whether it was the exhaustion from a hard days worth of work, or that you rarely had a moment to think about yourself, you didn't know.

Soon enough, you learned to summon your sparks, lighting fires in homes in an instant or heating food and teas for the ill. It wasn’t much, but you had never yielded so much control, and didn't remember a day when you hadn't feared your abilities since Meryl’s death. Finbark was particularly delighted when you showed him your new trick, clapping with a cheer, reminding you of why he dubbed you young spark.

So much of Spring Court reminded you of your sister, and while it had never been your home, memories of pleasant holidays surrounded by loved ones seemed to wait at every garden, field or bubbling brook you encountered. You welcomed those memories, letting grief wash over you when it came, using it to fuel your determination to keep on working. Grief was a weapon of kinds, and you were only now learning to yield it. You would build a better world for those who were left behind, just like you.

And over the course of those months, the land around you slowly came to life. Not from your work alone, but as the fae of Spring Court worked together to heal and rebuild, the land began to give back. The grass was greener and more lush now, flowers blossomed instead of dying at the bud, and trees bristled as gentle breezes passed through their luscious leaves. The land wasn’t yet singing, but it began to hum – it was healing, and so were you. And you were sure somewhere out in these lands, so was its High Lord.

————

“Damn it Rhys! Let us go!” Cassian slammed his fists on the table, silver cutlery and porcelain plates rattling at the force.

Rhys’s gaze was cold as he glared back at the General. “No,” was all he answered.

Feyre fidgeted with her hands in her lap, her dinner now cold where her knife and fork set at her plate minutes ago when tension began to brew. She knew there would be another fight tonight – neither Cassian or Azriel had taken the order to begin training the new recruits at the House of Wind well. It reminded them too much of Y/N, and they had spent five months furious with both her and Rhys for placing them on court arrest, stopping them from scouting Prythian to find you.

“Feyre, please,” Cassian begged, his brow clenched in anguish.

She swallowed, her heart pulling at his pain. “You know we can't Cass, Rhys gave her his word.” The black ink-like marking on her forearm itched at the mention, the symbol of a cross inside a triangle – a treasure and its whereabouts locked in secret. The mark had appeared the same moment Rhys had promised to not trail your location, an identical mark etched to his forearm too.

As part of that promise, the High Lord and Lady had ordered Cassian and Azriel against anything they could do to find you – there was to be no tracking your scent, no using intel from other courts, and no leaving the Night Court to investigate.

Cassian roared in frustration, throwing his head in his hands, gripping at the roots of his hair. “We only want to know she’s safe. If you care for us at all–"

“Enough Cassian!” Rhys bellowed, night filling every void of the room. Everyone froze.

Rhys pinched his nose, the clouds of his magic lower to a thick fog that covered the floor. “You do not question our care for anyone in this family.”

Azriel spoke then, stiff and stoic from his seat. “It is worth the breach of the bargain you made. We will burden the consequence.”

“It’s not just for the consequence, Azriel,” Feyre answered, meeting the Shadowsinger’s hardened stare. “This was Y/N’s choice. How do you think she will feel knowing we have breached her trust again?”

“I will deal with that after I know she is safe.”

Rhys ran a hand over his face before rubbing at his temples. “As I have said countless times, you will not be granted permission to track her.” Rhys’s power tightened then, yanking on a leash he had kept around the General and Shadowsinger’s necks for months.

“How can you do this to us?” Azriel seethed, knuckles white from where the gripped the table.

“I don't know Azriel. Perhaps the same way I kept Y/N grounded when you ordered her unfit to kill Alvar.”

Azriel stood then, his seat thrown back. “How dare you,” he spat, shadows racing towards the High Lord.

Rhys stood too, night magic clashing with shadows, a fight for dominance. “Calm yourself,” Rhys growled, staring the Shadowsinger down.

Mor sighed, swirling the wine in her glass from where she sat, fingers strumming the table impatiently. “Can we not go a single dinner without it turning to a fight?” she said flatly, before drawing a long sip.

Azriel’s teeth drew back to a snarl as he whipped his head to her. “Since when did you become so heartless?”

Mor stood, levelling her brown eyes at the Shadowsinger. “Don’t be a fool, I care for Y/N just as much as you. But I trust in my High Lord and Lady to dow that is right. When was the last time you exercised that same loyalty you swore to this court?” Mor paused before speaking again. “You’ve become undone, the both of you. And you will unravel this family if you continue down this path.”

Feyre threw Mor a grateful look.

Shadows continued to bulk at Azriel’s frame. “She is our love, Mor. Are we not worthy of her whereabouts?”

“No,” Mor said, her voice flat and cold. “You are not. That is your consequence for holding her too tight.”

Azriel’s nostrils flared, his eyes widening as he recoiled ever so slightly. Cassian could not raise his head from where it still hung in his hands, but for a moment he stopped breathing.

Mor softened then, seeing how deep her words had cut. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice still stern. “But it’s true. And I’m tired of having our family torn apart because of a decision that was her right to make. We have to rebuild what is here, what we have left. Otherwise our family will be ruined, and with it our court.”

Cassian took deep, shaky breaths, trying to hold the anguished cry that begged to be released. He had endured months of restlessness heartbreak, and there was no sign of it easing. It was torture.

Azriel looked back at his brother, knowing that pain, feeling it writhe within himself. Wordlessly, he walked to Cassian, clasping a firm hand on his shoulder and winnowing them from the room.

————

It was early one morning after you had set off from your uncle’s cabin, days worth of resources and tools hung from the back of your horse.

The horse was noble, a once well-kept steed that had been abandoned since the war. He had found you in a field, bucking and neighing as you approached. But with a gentle hand to his nose and some soothing commands, he had yielded, reminded of his connection to fae.

Every great steed deserved a name, and it found you instantly – Podie. It was Nyx’s way of saying “pony”, his chubby finger pointed at the array of horses in the stables when you had taken him with your family, the lot of you chuckling at his adorable attempt. Your heart ached as you thought of the child, of how much he must have grown since you had left the Night Court. So you named your horse in his honour, and relished the comfort it was to feel feel that little bit closer to him.

Finbark had waved you off as the sun was rising, and it was only a few hours later when had you entered the trail you had become so familiar with, headed for the next town on your map. The quiet was tranquil in Spring Court, but in that moment even the birds stopped singing, and an eerie sensation swept you over you, the hairs on your neck standing. Podie’s nostrils flared as harsh breaths blew from his snout, his ears twitching nervously.

Something, or someone, was watching you.

You immediately dismounted, not wanting to zap or upset Podie as began power tickling at your skin.

“Who’s there?” you spoke, your heart fastening at the rustle from behind the trees.

For a moment, you thought they had found you, and your heart thundered as you prepared to confront Cassian and Azriel. Would they try to apologise again? Were they here to convince you to return to the Night Court? Perhaps they would go as far to drag you back, kicking and screaming?

Bile rose in your throat as you searched for the peaks of wings or siphons glowing amongst the greenery that rustled. Instead, antlers poked through before revealing narrowed green eyes. Heavy paws padded against the ground as a half-elk, half-lion emerged, prowling towards you.

You startled, fumbling back a few steps, too shocked to find your words. The beast approach, sniffing as sentient eyes scanned you with a knowing look. And as you stared back, you realised quickly who the creature before you was.

Before you could demand it, Tamlin morphed to his fae form, blond hair cropped to his strong shoulders, sharp green eyes fixed on you as he stared you down with a tight jaw.

There was no question of his beauty – Tamlin was incredibly handsome, even with his face fixed with such a stern and threatening stare. He was not cloaked in green as Feyre had often described him, instead he wore brown working pants and a black shirt that were rolled at the sleeves revealing strong, veiny forearms. He was dressed no better than the working class of his court.

“High Lord,” you greeted as you bowed your head, lowering slightly at one knee. This was his court at the end of the day, no matter what he had done to ruin it.

He watched you intently, unspeaking and his face softened ever so slightly, his jaw unclenching only a little.

“Can I help you with something?”

“I’ve come to meet the Night Court emissary who has been assisting in the refuge of my land.” His voice was deep, commanding even after everything he had lost.

“I assure you, I am no longer affiliated with the Night Court. There is no treason to be found here.”

“I know.” He said with a straight face. “I’ve been tracking your work for months.”

You gulped at that. You had hoped to blend in, an anonymous helper with no past and no future.

“Did you think you could enter my court unnoticed?” he questioned, and sharp brown quirking.

You found your eyes narrowing. “From what I was told, your borders had fallen, and your lands used as a place for sanction after the war. I did not think announcing my arrival was necessary, and you were certainly in no position to refuse my aid.”

Tamlin was unmoved at your tone. Instead he ran that pointed green stare down your body and back up again, flicking them to Podie who stood to the side, grazing on some grass, before settling them back on you. “Why?” he asked.

“Pardon?”

“Why have you come to aid my court?”

“I care to help those in need.”

“There are plenty across Prythian in need.” Tamlin was scowling now.

There was a beat of silence between you, only the sound of the heavy breaths that left Podie’s nostrils to fill it.

“What did they do to you?” Tamlin asked. There was no softness in his question.

Now it was your turn to scowl. “I sought your court, High Lord, because I have an uncle who resides by the lake in the south. I knew there was work to be done here, and I had a home at his cabin.”

If your answer satiated Tamlin, he did not let it show, his green eyes continuing to pierce through you. It was a conscious effort not to let your power overcome you in the grasp of his stare.

“Come to my Manor.”

You choked. “Pardon me?”

The High Lord shuffled then, his first natural movement, and you could have sworn a slight blush tinged his cheeks. “My apologies, I’ve spent so much time in my beast form, it’s easy to forget my manners. Please, join me for a meal at my Manor. It’s the least I can do, to thank you for your contributions.”

Your stare on Tamlin harshened. “I did not do it for you.”

Tamlin merely shrugged. “I’m aware. Regardless, I am grateful.”

You had only heard of Tamlin’s Manor through Feyre’s stories, how he had warded the home, trapping her within, hurting her with that uncontrollable rage of his. You had little interest in seeing the place where this occured, a small tether of loyalty to Feyre ignited at the thought.

You may as well have said it out loud, as Tamlin tracked the movements in your eyes before bowing his head.

“The choice is yours, of course.”

You swallowed, observing the male before you. A High Lord would never bow their head for such a thing.

That smallest of behaviours begged so many questions. Was he sorry? Was he ashamed? Was it possible Tamlin had learnt from his mistakes, and had grown to be a better High Lord?

He reminded you so much of the males you once loved – a good heart with mislead direction. If he had shed of his possessive and controlling nature – you craved to see it, you needed to know it possible, even if it was in someone else.

So you realised there was a part of you that wanted to go to the Manor and join Tamlin for an evening, to answer that question alone. You could attend for one meal, just to plug the hole in your heart for a night.

“Alright. I’ll visit your manor,” you said impartially.

Tamlin nodded once. “Is there a time that suits you best?”

You looked back at Podie, waving an arm to the gear and resources strapped to his saddle. “I will spend three days in Rellford to assist with building a new market. With another afternoon of travel I can make it to your Manor in four days time.”

Talmlin nodded again, smiling softly now, the pull of his mouth catching your breath as his handsomeness was further revealed. “I look forward to it, Y/N L/N.” After a low bow, Tamlin was once again a beast, treading away and leaving you to continue your journey.

————

You stood awkwardly at the door to the Tamlin’s Manor, your hand hung in the air, unable to make the first knock.

The gate had willed itself open, and you were surprised to see the exterior well kept, almost immaculate. Rhys had described it differently from his last visit, ivy overgrown and no maids or servicemen to be seen. But a stable boy had helped you dismount on arrival, guiding Podie by his reins with a polite bow.

You smoothed out the skirts of your dress, self conscious of the scent of the horse you undoubtedly carried. You wore a humble frock, feminine and loose, one that allowed for a few hours of riding. The countless bold and revealing gowns you had once loved were left behind at the Night Court, they had no place in the new life you were building. With a final shake of your head, you willed yourself to knock on the large arched doors.

But before your fist made contact, the doors swung open, revealing a maid.

“Hello,” she said sweetly.

“H-hi.”

“Come inside.”

And so you did, taking in the impressive home. Natural light poured in from all around, floor length windows cast open as sheers danced gently as the breeze passed through. Tasteful vases of Spring’s finest flowers decorated the space, with countless rooms joining the space and a grand staircase that led to reveal even more of the manor.

The maid lead you to a sitting room, the space just as light an airy, with no door, just an open archway. This was not what you had imagined at all.

“The High Lord is expecting you, but he apologises as he has a meeting that has run over. He won't be too long, but would like to convey his apologies,” she said with pep. “You can wait here, M’Lady. Would you care for something to drink?”

You silently took a seat at the lounge she had waved at, looking behind at the floor to ceiling bookshelves that aligned the room. It was a tasteful room, and you thought you could spend all day he curled up with a good book.

“No, no thank you,” you eventually said, slow to respond in your awe of the house.

With a bouncy courtesy, the maid left you to be.

Standing immediately, you moved to inspect the books, fingering their spines and muttering their titles aloud.

“Flora and Fauna of the Spring Season. How to Care for Roses and Thorns Alike.”

Your ears pricked as two sets of footsteps making their way down the staircase, and deep voices spoke in discussion.

“I would be grateful for the resources Tamlin. And it’s clear you are mending your court. I would be happy to align with you once again.”

You knew that voice – Tarquin.

“I’m glad, and yes, we are making progress. Though it would be insincere of me to accept any credit. I thank the people of my court, and I have had aid from others too.”

The males passed the open archway to the reading room, Tarquin stopping in his tracks.

“Y/N?”

You froze, book still in hand. “Greetings, Tarquin,” you said thickly, barely able to swallow.

Tarquin cast his magnificent blue eyes to Tamlin for just a moment, and you were sure if you had blinked you would have missed it. You glanced at Tamlin too, who showed no sign of discomfort.

Tarquin was quick to recover from his shock, making his way over to greet you, embracing you with open arms and a quick kiss to each of your cheeks.

“I’m sorry to have heard of your departure from the Nigh Court,” he said, blue eyes fixed on you with a warm, sorry smile.

You smiled back softly, rubbing his arms where they held your shoulders. “That is kind, Tarquin. I am sorry too.” You fought the urge to embrace him again – it was so nice to see a friend.

Tamlin waited by the archway, his hands behind his back as he watched your interaction with passive curiosity.

“And how did you find yourself in Spring?” Tarquin asked.

You shrugged. “I have an uncle here, and I wanted to work to help repair that lost in the war.”

Tarquin nodded. “Yes, Tamlin was telling that he was quite impressed with you. And I must say, it’s encouraging to see how much progress has been made.”

You flicked your eyes to Tamlin who remained unmoved. He had credited you to another High Lord? You blushed lightly, shifting uncomfortably on your feet.

“And what of Varian and Cresseida? Are they well?” you skilfully diverted the conversation.

Tarquin grinned. “Varian is well, and Cresseida is engaged.”

“Engaged!” you burst, a smile so wide on your face as you thought of her. She was always a romantic.

“Yes, she’s quite excited, as is the rest of the family. You will keep your eye out for an invitation to the wedding, yes?”

You blushed again – you were unsure how the news would be received by the other High Lords of your leaving, it was nice to know you were still considered you a friend at Summer. “Of course, Tarquin. I would be honoured to celebrate with you all.”

Tarquin smiled at that, before turning back to Tamlin. “What a jewel you have here in your court Tamlin. You won't take her for granted I hope.” You could sense the warning laced in his tone.

Tamlin lowered his eyes slightly, a small gesture, but in the language of High Lords it spoke volumes. Understanding, submission, guilt even. “I wouldn’t dare of it,” he spoke, hands still clasped behind his back.

Tarquin seemed reassured at that. “I must journey back. A delight to see you Y/N, do take care, and come visit whenever you find suitable.”

You agreed to that, watching Tarquin shake Tamlins hand before leaving the Manor.

“I apologise for making you wait,” Tamlin said with a soft smile. He seemed stiff still, and you wondered if he nervous to host you.

You eyed the High Lord up and down. “Not at all. I’m just… a little surprised to have our meetings overlap.”

Tamlin nodded with understanding. “I have nothing to hide Y/N. It is a lesson I should have learned long ago.”

You nodded at that, looping your arm through Tamlin’s outstretched one as he lead you through to on a tour of the Manor.

————

The meal with Tamlin was far more enjoyable that you had thought it would be, food and company alike. He did not lead you to a dining room, instead, a small table was set in the balcony overlooking the estate, the warm spring breeze gentle as the sun set over the groomed gardens, rows of trees and flowering bushes tinged with orange from the sunset.

The conversation was awkward at first, Tamlin was nervous, and it didn't help that you headed every comment with caution. But after a few sips of wine, and a few jokes exchanged, it seemed you and the High Lord had much in common.

You felt yourself relaxing, joking and laughing with ease. It was nice to chat and enjoy the company of another, something you hadn’t done since Azriel killed Alvar. You hadn't realised that in throwing yourself in work, you had deprived yourself from any true fun. Perhaps Tamlin had seen that, perhaps that’s why he invited you here.

He hadn't asked or pried of your past, only talking of your work with immense gratitude. And when you told him of your childhood memories in his court, Tamlin beamed with pride, his face fixed with a smile and his posture a little more straight. That of course, lead to the conversation of Meryl.

“And what of your sister?” Tamlin asked. “Where does she reside now?”

“Ah,” you said, before drawing a long sip of wine, taking a moment before you could will yourself to respond. “Unfortunately Meryl was murdered by one of Hybern’s own spies.”

Pain sliced across Tamlin’s face, his green eyes panicked before he bowed his head in shame. “Gods, Y/N. I am so sorry.” Blond strands fell in front of his face, his strong hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Tamlin, it’s alright. It was many years ago, well before the war.”

He looked at you then, his face softening. He knew what you were saying – it was before he allied himself with Hybern. He was not to blame.

“I was a fool to have ever opened my borders to him,” Tamlin said thickly, casting his eyes down.

“I could not agree more,” you replied, before offering him a tight smile. You were certain he regretted many of his choices, but it was reassuring to hear.

“Was your sister’s death how you found yourself as a Night Court emissary?”

You nodded. “That’s right. I was motivated to protect others, and largely driven to avenge Meryl.” Speaking of your past after all that had happened, it seemed to foreign to you now. You no longer knew the girl you were when you had found a home in Velaris.

“It would seem that is still very true,” Tamlin complimented.

“In some ways, yes,” you agreed, unsure if he caught the blush on your cheeks. “But also untrue in others.”

Tamlin waited patiently, but didn't push. The choice was yours to continue.

So you told him of your time at the Night Court, of the decade you had spent training with Cassian and Azriel. You spoke of the extent of your training, and how after a few years friendship had turned to love, and the family had welcomed you with open arms.

Dancing around the details of the Night Court, you were careful not to expose Velaris or other sensitive information – you were not here to damn the court, you were only telling your story.

And as you spoke, Tamlin listened intently without casting judgement, just patiently absorbing your story, nodding where he understood and asking questions where he didn’t. He never pried, nor did he ask for more detail of the Night Court, or of Feyre and Rhys.

Finally, you explained what lead to you leaving your old life behind, how you were betrayed by your loves and wider family, and how your one true shot to avenge your sister was stolen from you.

As you finished, you drew a big breath, and an even bigger sip of wine. You slouched further into your seat, relaxing as you felt free from the weight of bottling your truth for so long.

Tamlin watched you for a moment, before drawing a long breath. “Would you like to know what I think?”

You raised your brows, toying with your glass of wine. “Do tell.”

“I feel you were treated with an utter lack of empathy, and it was cruel to not at least tell you of the mission. I’m sorry that you were hurt in such a way. They are fools to have mistreated you so greatly, and I know this because… not only am I fully capable of such behaviour, but it is so similar to how I had treated Feyre.”

Your eyes went wide at his confession, your brows clenching at the way it made your heart ache.

“I know what it is to love another so fiercely, you stop seeing them as someone, and start seeing them as something. It was a lesson I learned only when I lost everything – my love, my council, my entire damn court. I was vengeful, jealous, and I would have torn the world in half to claim what I thought belonged to me. But I had no one to blame but myself, and I’ve learnt nothing is mine to ever own or control, no matter how much that scares me. In all truths Y/N, I am sickened that so many were hurt and lost for me to learn that lesson, and I’m so sorry that you were hurt for Azriel and Cassian to learn theirs.”

You blinked at Tamlin, swallowing your shock. “That is… a very honest confession.”

Tamlin gave you a tight smile before shrugging. “Honesty is all I have.”

You returned his smile, extended a hand to rest on his forearm. “If you ask me, honesty and trust are the only true currency of this life.”

Tamlin raised his brows then, whether he was shocked by your words or by your touch you couldn't tell. His green eyes met yours, sincerity swarming as he held you in a soft gaze. “Fae like you have known that all along though. And it is males like me who hurt those infinitely wiser, like you.”

You chuckled then. “I’m not perfect Tamlin, far from it. I think all we can do is try to be better, and work to ensure we don't hurt those that we love through our imperfections.”

Tamlin’s eyes warmed. “I think you’re right,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper.

And maybe it was the wine, or the way your heart swelled at the honestly and sincerity of his confession, but all of the fibres of your being begged you to lean a little closer, to bask in his warmth and comfort, and even press your lips to his.

With a flick of his eyes to your lips, you knew Tamlin felt the same draw to you. He placed a large hand over your own that rested on his forearm. “Y/N, you must know I didn't invite you here to… disrupt, or interfere with–"

“I know,” you interrupted him, smiling softly.

Tamlin paused, eyes darting between yours. “Your company has been a delightful surprise. But I would hate for you to regret–"

“My life in the Night Court is behind me Tamlin. I have built a life of my own, and this is the path I choose.”

Tamlin moved then, a large hand coming to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek and he gave you a pained look, as if physically trying to restrain himself. “I don't mean to lecture the more wise,” he said softly. “But if you feel that I can change or grow or learn from my mistakes, don’t you believe Azriel and Cassian can too?”

Your eyes fluttered close, your brow pulling at the weight of his question. “I suppose.”

“And if they have changed, or at least try to, do you think that you might want to forgive them?”

You opened your eyes, holding Tamlin’s gaze with a serious expression. “Forgiveness is one thing. But I will never return to the life I had with them Tamlin, not like that. Too much has happened.”

“Hmm,” Tamlin hummed thoughtfully. He waited a moment, green eyes drinking in your face, scanning your features delicately as you blushed, closing your eyes again to bare the intensity.

When Tamlin spoke again, his tone was a lot more assured. “I can see you have are still in the thick of processing what has happened, Y/N. And for that reason alone, it would be improper to kiss you right now, despite how much I want to.”

You were frowning as you opened your eyes, finding a sorry smile planted on Tamlin’s face.

“You’re a cruel High Lord,” you joked flatly, returning the pained smile and holding the hand he kept to your face.

“I’ll work on that,” he chuckled, pulling both your hands in his before kissing them.

“Come,” he said, standing from his chair and offering you his hand. “I’m yet to show you the gardens.”

————

“Coming!” Amrin barked at the third rapping on her door, the knocks growing more impatient. Slinking into a silver silk robe, she opened the door to reveal Cassian and Azriel, their cheeks more hollow and bags even darker than the last time she had seen them a few weeks ago.

“Gods, you both look awful,” she said plainly before walking further into her apartment, not checking to see if they followed.

“Where the hell have you been?” Azriel grumbled.

“Working from home, if you will.”

“Why?” Cassian asked defensively.

“You know the answer, brutes. All of that fighting and tension, it gives me a headache.”

Azriel scowled, crossing his arms across his chest, shadows stretching across Amren’s apartment with familiarity.

“You’re sensitive at the best of times,” Cassian bit back.

“Why are you here?” Amren spoke plainly, sounding bored by their presence.

Cassian approached Amren while Azriel lingered back. “Help us,” Cassian said.

Amren scoffed. “You know I can’t, boy.”

Cassian’s brows clenched before he moved to his knees, squatting in front of Amren as she lounged in a chair. “Please, Amren, do you have anything? Information from an outside court, or a lead on her whereabouts?”

Amren levelled her silver eyes with his brown ones. “Why do you torture yourself with such questions? Y/N is quite capable of taking care of herself, you know.”

“C’mon Cass, let’s just go,” Azriel said tightly from behind. From the tension in the room, it was hard to remember they were serving the same throne.

“You want my advice? The both of you need to be patient. If it takes her an eternity to forgive you, then so be it. There is nothing you can do to force that.”

“We can't just switch it off Amren, it doesn't work like that.”

“The Illyrian possessiveness, or the hopelessly in love part?” Amren mocked. “Y/N is mending herself, and I applaud that. I suggest you take a page from her book and start to do the same.”

Azriel had already stalked for the door when Amren started to mock, but she called him a few paces shy. “Whatever you took, I suggest you leave it behind,” she said, her tone almost playful.

Azriel froze, before letting go of a gold piece of card, the paper fluttering to the floor as he and Cassian stalked out, slamming the door behind them.

“What was that?” Cassian asked with a whisper.

Azriel hushed him, nodding as he walked forward, waiting until they had made it a few streets from Amren’s home.

“A wedding invitation. For Creseida.”

Cassian’s eyes light up. “Do you think–?”

“Perhaps, but I don't think we’d be welcomed company if Y/N does attend. Rhys and Feyre will surely keep us here.”

“So we keep our walls up. We won’t disclose to know of the wedding, and that way the bargain will never be broken.”

Azriel nodded. “The only risk is Amren, should she mention that I saw the invitation.”

Cassian sighed, running his hand through his long hair. “I sure as hell hope she can keep her mouth shut.”

--------

Part 4>>>>

AN: Omgosh, you guys have been so so patient with this part, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I sincerely hope you liked it, it was so much fun to introduce Tamlin and explore the way he might be healing after the war. Not to mention writing a few wins for our reader?? She deserves it.

Also how the Inner Curcle is just falling to shit without her 💅🏼 I so look forward to exploring the TEA at this wedding.... I always want to know what you guys think, so feel free to drop a comment, and if you'd like to join my general tag list, or just for Our Girl, drop a comment too :) Thank you always for your support <3

937 notes · View notes

nhlclover · 2 months

Text

battlefield | matthew knies

word count: 1.02k

summary: you and matthew get into an argument, testing the strength of your relationship.

warnings: angst, arguing

notes: finally getting around to old requests…

The air in your apartment was thick and heavy, tension hanging in the air like an oppressive fog. Each breath felt like a burden. A simple disagreement that started an hour ago now had you and Matthew caught in a heated argument, ensnared in a tangled web of emotions that refused to dissipate.

The fiery argument was fueled by the pent-up frustrations and grievances the pair of you held. You took turns shooting your words across the room, each sentiment increasingly more bitter than the last. Each accusation is aimed at the heart, both of you letting your anger get the best of the situation and just wanting to cause pain. It was a standoff with neither of you wanting to concede.

As the argument reached its crescendo, a sense of fragility now hung in the air. You sighed, exasperated. Your cheeks stained with tears and your lungs tight with anxiety.

“I can’t argue anymore, Matt.” You say softly.

You were curled up on the couch, knees pulled into your chest, while Matthew stood at a considerable distance across the room. He leaned on the island, the granite was cool against the clammy skin of his palms. The sound of you sniffling softly caused a crack to go through his chest.

“I…” You breathed, your voice trailing off. You struggled to find the right words to convey the turmoil churning in your stomach. “I think I need some space.”

He looked up at you, your frame squeezed into a tight ball. “What does that mean, y/n?” Matthew asks.

His face was so delicate like your next words could shatter him if you weren’t too careful. “I mean I think I need to some space for a bit. Just to sort through my thoughts.”

Matthew pushes off the counter, heading to the front hall. You spring up from the couch, following him. In the foyer, Matt shoves his feet into a pair of sneakers, yanking his coat off the rack.

“What are you doing?” You ask as he grabs his car keys of the key rack.

“Giving you space.” He replies.

The door slams behind him as he heads for the parking garage. Getting in his car, he had no destination in mind. He let his internal GPS take him wherever. Soon enough, he was pulling into the driveway of a familiar home. Matthew parked his car in the driveway, the engine clicking as it cooled down. He sat for a moment, staring blankly through the windshield before getting out and going to the front door.

Upon opening the door, John was met with a sad shell of his teammate. He opened the door wider, allowing Matthew to enter. He followed John into the familiar living room, sinking onto the couch. John’s gaze was fixed on Matthew.

“What’s on your mind, kid?” He asked.

With a sigh, Matthew poured out his heart, retelling the last few days in which the tensions rose between the two of you, before finally boiling over into the argument from this morning. John listened intently, offering some words of wisdom once Matthew was finished.

“Sounds like it’s been a rough couple of days for you guys,” John said, Matthew nodding in agreement. “But disagreements are just opportunities for growth. You know how the two of you navigate these rough patches are just going to make you guys stronger.”

Matthew sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What if we don’t figure it out though?” Matthew asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

John couldn’t help but chuckle softly, recognizing the anxiety of going through an argument in a young relationship.

“It might not be easy, but you’ll get there. You’ve got to be patient with each other, try and see her point of view. Remember you’re a team. You’re in this together.” John said.

A sense of clarity washed over Matthew, John’s words aiding Matthew in navigating this. John’s sage advice was born from years of experience and Matthew took comfort in knowing that John knew what he was talking about.

Before long, the familiar sound of boisterous laughter and shrieks filled the home. John’s kids enter the room, having just returned from school. Matthew found himself drawn into their world, the simple joy of their company offering a welcome distraction.

As the evening wore on, Matthew lost track of time, the hours slipping away as he played hide and seek with the Tavares children, as well as being invited to stay for dinner.

Back at your apartment, you were still sitting on the sofa, nerves wracking your body. Matthew hadn't called or texted. You believed he was safe, that he wouldn’t do anything stupid. But your heart was still in your stomach as you watched the time tick by.

When you heard the front door clicking open, you sprang up from the couch, meeting your boyfriend in the front hall where he was removing his shoes.

“Where were you?” You ask, your voice a little louder than you intended. “You didn’t call, you didn’t text…Nothing! I was so worried Matt!”

You launched into a tirade, your words sharp with frustration as you spewed out every single anxious thought you’d imagined since he left. Matthew let you vent your frustrations, upset with the fact that he had been gone for the last 6 hours. When you finally fell silent, Matthew spoke.

“I’m fine.” He said softly. “I just went somewhere to clear my head.”

You fell quiet, not quite knowing what to say next. The pair of you stood there, looking at one another as the tension slowly seemed to dissipate.

“I’m sorry…” You said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t…”

“It’s okay, y/n.” He reassured, stepping towards you. “We both needed time to breathe.”

There’s another beat of silence before you speak again. “I’m sorry for raising my voice. And for what I said, I’m sorry Matt.”

“Me too. We both said things we shouldn’t have.” Matthew replies. Matthew reaches out, taking your hand in his. “I’m sorry.”

His touch sends a wave of warmth through you, You reach for him, wrapping your arms around his torso. The words of John from earlier reverberate in Matthew’s mind. You guys were a team and you were in this together. It was going to take a whole lot more than an argument to separate the two of you.

#matthew knies #matthew knies imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #toronto maple leafs #matthew knies x reader

351 notes · View notes

homestylehughes · 29 days

Text

i wanna taste

pairings: jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: after one sight of y/n, jack has to get a taste.

warnings: smut 18+. oral- fem receiving, dirty talk, cussing, use of pet names. fluff, soft jack.

wc: 1.8k

au: hi loves! im on a writing streak (thank you spring break). im back with some jack smut woooohooooo, i realllllyyyy enjoyed writing this, i hope you guys enjoy. like and reblog if you enjoy<3.

happy reading <3

Rain softly hits the window, the soft light from the lamp in the corner of the living room illuminates the room with a soft glow.

I've been awake for a few hours, my body waking me up at 5 am, turning over to see that Jack was sound asleep beside me, I decided to get out of bed and start my day.

Settling on the couch with a cup of coffee in my hands along with my book, this is where I've been for the last 3 hours. The book captivated me so much I didn't even check the time until I had finished it.

The clock read 8:15, I was genuinely surprised Jack wasn't awake yet. His crazy hockey schedule kept him awake and up at odd hours, his body probably needed all of the sleep it could get.

Getting up to get another cup of coffee, and the second book of the series I’m reading, I settle back into the couch and enter an alternate universe.

I'm so into my book, that I don't even realize Jack creeping up behind me, wrapping his arms around my neck, nessling his face in my neck, feeling his warm breath fan my neck.

“Good morning pretty girl” I hear him say, as his face is still muffled in my neck.

“Good morning” I say back as I crane my neck up to meet his face, getting a good look at his face for the first time today.

Taking in his sleepy doe like state, hair a mess, eyes full of sleep, leaving evidence that he just woke up. Sweatpants riding scarily low on his hips, his chest bare, allowing me to rake my eyes over it.

“Done checking me out pretty girl” he smiles down on me, catching me in the act. “Maybe, i'm not sure yet” i muttered back, my face heating with a slight embarrassment. “How'd you sleep?” I ask him, still looking up at him. “Good, really good. Would have been better if I woke up with you beside me” he says, looking down at me.

“Sorry baby, I randomly woke up at like 5am. I didn't want to wake you up "I say feeling bad, for leaving him in the bed alone.

“It's okay, you can make up for it now” he says as he begins to lean down, his lips meeting mine in a soft kiss. The angle makes it a little hard for me to fully kiss him, but I deal with it and push my body up further to meet his kiss.

Our lips moved in sync for a few more seconds before Jack pulls away, resting his arms on the arm rest behind me, giving me a few seconds to catch my breath.

“That's a better good morning greeting” Jack says as he's smiling, making his way to the other end of the couch, picking up the blanket that covers my feet and slides under it as he sits down.

The simple movement probably means nothing to him, but it does to me, seeing him so at peace, and calm makes my heart warm. I'm quickly pulled out of my daydream when I hear Jack's voice.

“Has it been raining all morning?” he asks as he's looking out the window, the rain still hitting the window.

“Yeah it's been raining since i've been out here” i say “it's very peaceful” he replies back softly. Turning his body back to face mine, “what time is it?” he asks, snuggling himself deeper into the blanket like a child, “9:30” i reply back.

“Dang i slept in” Jack says with an airy laugh. I laugh softly in response, as I go to pick up my coffee mug to take a drink, to only find that its empty.

“I'm going to go get more coffee, do you want a cup?” I asked him, raising my back from the couch to get up.

“Yes please that sounds amazing, thank you pretty girl” he says, moving himself back to a sitting position on the couch.

“Okay baby, I'll be back” I say as I fling the blanket off my body, not seeing Jack's widened eyes as I turn my back to him as I make my way to the kitchen.

Making both of our cups of coffee I make my way back to the living room, I feel Jack's eyes on me instantly.

“Here you go baby” I say, holding the hot cup out to him, “can you place it on the table for me?” he rasps out, as I go to place the mug on the table in front of us, I hear Jack speak again “set yours down too”. I look up at him confusingly as I set both cups down on the table.

“Are you okay Jack?” I ask him, my eyes locked on his face. “Yeah i'm fine, can you come here please”

I make my way closer to him, standing in front of the couch where he lays, Jack deciding that isn't close enough for him. He puts his hands on my hips pulling me into his lap. His hands moving to rest on my bare thigh.

“What are you wearing?” he asks me, looking down at my body, i see nothing wrong with what i'm wearing. “Clothes?” i reply back timidly, still confused on why he's acting like this.

“Your not wearing pants” he says, tracing his hands under my shirt, circling his hands on my practically bare hips, causing my breath to hitch slightly.

“You're walking around the house in a tiny thong, and a shirt that doesn't even cover your ass completely, and you expect me not to do anything” bringing his face to mine, close enough that I can feel his breath fanning on my face. I swallow before saying “what are you going to do about it?”

Before I know it, Jack smashes his lips to mine. The kiss is hot and wet, his tongue quickly entering my mouth fighting and winning for dominance. My hands in his hair pulling him closer to me, wishing that there wasn’t a blanket separating us.

I began to rock my hips into his to gain some type of friction, I can feel the dampness between my thighs beginning to grow.

I pull my lips from his and begin to trail them down his neck, kissing and sucking little love bites in my wake, softly biting his ear as I make my way down. I hear Jack's breathing beginning to pick up, moaning lowly in my ear.

Just as I'm about to trail my way back to his lips, he pushes me off of him. My back is now hitting the couch. I look up at him breathless, waiting for his next move.

“I have to taste you pretty girl, I've been dying to do it all morning” Jack says, eyes locked with mine as he pushes the blanket of his body. Making his way between my legs spreading them apart as he rests in between them now.

Tracing his hands up my bare thighs, his hands sliding under the waistband of my underwear, pulling them down slowly, while keeping his eye contact with me. Once my underwear are completely off me, he throws them somewhere behind him.

Jack begins to kiss up my thighs, alternating between each of my legs. My chest is rising quickly now, I need him to do something soon, the tension is starting to kill me.

“Pretty pussy is so wet for me” he sighs as he slides his middle finger between my folds before pulling it back out, his finger glistening in front of him before sliding it into his mouth.

Moaning at the taste, his eyes are on mine. This action alone causes me to moan down at him, shifting my hips closer to his face.

“Tastes so sweet, pretty girl” he says as he guides his face back down to my pussy. “ I think I wanna have a taste now, is that alright with you, pretty girl?” his eyes searching mine for an answer. “Yes jack, please” I breathlessly say to him.

Not even a second later, jack is diving into my pussy, his tongue finding my clit instantly. My hands fly into his hair grabbing something to hold on to while jack fucks me with his tongue.

My moans are beginning to fill up the room, along with the sounds of jack slurping up my pussy, like a man who hasn't had a drink of water in days.

Taking me by surprise Jack pushes 2 fingers into me, continuing to lap up my clit with his tongue. “Jack fuck” I moan out, pulling his hair even tighter between my fingers, the action causing jack to groan into me, sending chills up my body.

I began to push my hips to meet his tongue and fingers, beginning to feel the coil in my stomach heating up.

Jack senses that i'm almost there, he thrusts his fingers into me, but curves them just enough so that he hits my g-spot.

Causing my eyes to roll in the back of my head my body arching off the couch, my hips pushing themselves further into his grasp.

“Right there fuck jack, please dont stop” I groan out. I reach under my shirt grabbing my right nipple between my hands squeezing it in between my fingers, as my other hand starts needing my left boob.

“Fuck pretty girl, you look so hot from up there” my breath labors at the sound of jacks rough voice “does it feel good pretty girl?” “fuck, you feel so tight against my fingers, taking me so fucking good like a good girl” he says as he brings his thumb to my clit, rubbing and pinching it hard and fast.

Incoherent things are falling from my lips at this point, the only thing I'm focused on is jack and the dam in my body that's about to break.

Before I know it I'm cumming, hard and fast. My orgasm gives me no warning as it begins to wash over my body, hitting me like a tidal wave.

My moans and “don’t stops” fill the living room, my grip on Jack's hair never loosening. Finally coming down from my high, I try to catch my breath, I open my eyes that make their way down to Jack who's looking at me with wide eyes, and a parted swollen mouth catching his breath.

Making his way up to me, so that he's now directly on top of me, pushing himself up by his arms. “That was the hottest thing ive ever fucking seen.'' Jack says before capturing his lips with mine.

Pulling back to look into his eyes, before something catches my attention. The cups of coffee on the table. “I think our coffee is cold,” I say, trying to hold back my laugh.

“I dont give a fuck about that coffee anymore” jack says as he laughs back at me, bringing his lips back to mine mumbling “how about we finish this in the bedroom?” before picking me up and dragging me to our bedroom. The coffee being long forgotten about.

#nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #new jersey devils #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n

311 notes · View notes

wildestdreamsblog · 1 year

Text

When you tried to move on from them

Pairing: Hyung line x Reader

Warnings: Soft Yandere, Cheating, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Attempt at ending one’s life, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: why on earth is this 5kish long? This part is darker than the maknae line (for me at least) precisely for the reason that hyung line would plan before springing into action which makes them more…dangerous. I hope you enjoy this! And for real, read the warnings okay.

Namjoon

You blinked in surprise when you entered the house. You thought it was a nightmare came to life when you saw Namjoon sitting there with your mom. The two of them were chatting and laughing, hot cup of tea on the table.

It was Namjoon who first saw you, his eyes flashing a certain heat before he smiled at you sweetly. “Flower, you’re here!”

You frowned at him before turning to look at your mother who was smiling fondly at the two of you. “He said he wanted to surprise you. Your fiancé is so sweet, darling. Despite his busy schedule, he had it in him to go to our province. What a sweet man,” she cooed at him before tapping his hand.

Fiancé?

“Of course. I wanted to see how my future mother-in-law is doing,” he replied with the sweetest smile on his face that even you were almost fooled. “I worry about your health.”

Your mother laughed sheepishly, “Namjoon, son, you can call me mom. There’s no need for formality.”

“Okay, mom.”

What. The. Fuck?

Your mother excused herself, saying something about making dinner seeing as Namjoon would be staying.

Once she was out of earshot, you marched to him and pulled him outside the house. And he was all too willing to be pulled by you. After all, it had been three months since you started ghosting him after he pleasured you in the studio. It was heartbreaking, really. He woke up without you and hadn’t seen you since then.

He lose it the moment he found out you left.

You were just too intelligent about evading him. He hated that.

Consequently, your intelligence was what also attracted him to you.

He was smiling down at you as you faced him. You looked behind him to see if your mother was anywhere near before completely laying it out on him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You hissed, dropping his thick wrist. It was already dark and the only light was from the house and the street light situated outside. At your smaller form, his shadow was tauntingly touching you. He was so tall that you had to tilt your head to meet his intense stare full on. “And what do you mean fiancé?! You know what, I heard intelligent people tend to lose it but I never thought you would! And who said you can visit my mom, Kim Namjoon?! I need you to leave. You know she’s not well and any additional stress would be detrimental for her!”

You were breathing hard when you stopped berating him. Yet, he remained smiling at you, his dimpled cheeks would be considered charming if not for the fucked up thing that he did to you.

“I miss you,” he admitted softly, his eyes taking you in. God, he did miss you. It had been hell without you. You weren’t completely wrong, he did lose it. And he only managed to get his sanity back when he saw you. “Let’s not separate from each other this long again, my flower.”

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t miss you-“

“Don’t say things you don’t mean…you’re not a liar,” he teased as he shook his head a little. “And besides, do you have it in you to tell your mother the truth? Hmm? At her state, are you willing to break her heart?” He taunted you, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “After all, isn’t it her wish to see her only child happy and married?”

Your eyes widened at his implication, at how he carelessly talked about your mother’s health. There were so many truths in what Namjoon said. He had you backed in the corner, but you wouldn’t go down without a fight. “You need to lea-“

“Dinner’s ready!” Your mother shouted, her face relaxed, a rare sight since she started her treatment. It left you no choice but to nod at her assuringly before turning to look at you ex-boyfriend.

“You’re going to excuse yourself. You’re going to say you have a work emergency. You’re going to leave tonight. Do I make myself clear?”

His dark eyes twinkled with delight. “Yes, ma’am.”

You did make yourself clear, but you should have known he was a stubborn man. You were the one for him, and if that was the case, shouldn’t he fight with all his might to stay with you?

“I’m so full. Thank you for the meal,” he said politely, rubbing his stomach with a smile.

“You must have been so tired, Namjoon. Why don’t you stay here tonight?”

“Mom!” You called her in disbelief, your eyes widened at what she suggested.

“What?”

“W-we have no more room. I’m sure he’s needed back in Seoul.”

“No, I’m not. And you’re right, mother. I’m so weary I don’t think I can make it back safely to the city tonight.”

“See? You can sleep in her room.”

“Mom!” Wasn’t she the conservative type?

“It’s fine. He’s your fiancé. He’s practically family by now. If it was up to me, you two would be married by now.”

You were full on glaring at him as he entered your room after your mom bid the two of you good night. Namjoon smiled sweetly at you before putting his bag down. Wasn’t he too ready to stay here with that huge bag of his?

He looked around your small room, his huge frame making your bedroom looked even smaller.

“I thought I told you to leave?”

He nodded before standing in front of you, “Yes, you did.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“I don’t remember agreeing,” he murmured, gently sauntering to you similar to that of a hunter. His deep voice was making you feel things you didn’t want to feel, his proximity weakening your resolve.

You pushed his muscular chest non too gently. “I’m not playing this game with you, Namjoon. If you have any respect for me, you would leave me alone.”

He chuckled under his breath, his dark eyes gazing into yours. And before you knew it, you couldn’t stepped back anymore, your back completely against the wall. He lost all playfulness in his face, his hands on either side of you. “Who says I’m playing, flower?” He murmured, his face slowly leaning down to your neck. You felt him inhale your scent, the hair of your neck standing up. Perhaps, it recognized the danger you were in. You dared not move, waiting for the large man to do something. “And it’s because I respect us that I know we deserve another chance. I’m fighting for us, flower…regardless if I’m fighting alone.” Or fighting even you.

Seokjin

You scoffed at another bouquet of flowers delivered at your temporary apartment. Beside the flowers was a velvet box containing a gold necklace with a diamond pendant. The letter you were holding in your hand read that he missed you. It was the same thing everyday. You thought he was just wasting his time. You thought he would stop after a month. But it was almost three months and yet, the gifts kept coming. It was getting more ridiculous and more expensive as the days went by. At your anger, you threw his gifts one day. But then the morning came and he sent you a message that sent shivers down your spine.

‘Don’t throw away my gifts, sweetheart. You know it hurts me.’

But how did he know?

You weren’t even surprised that Seokjin was able to trace you, not when he had too much resources in his hands. You should have known the extent of his power. He never liked to wield his family’s power. Your Seokjin before was the most humble man you ever met, never boasting about their inherent wealth and position in the world. Yet, this Seokjin didn’t hesitate to use it when it came to you.

Apparently, you were his breaking point.

To be honest, you were terrified of him now. You felt like you were threading a thin line, and one of these days he would snapped.

You didn’t want to know what would happen then.

And so it felt like a blessing in disguise when you started working in a new company, only to find out that one of your closed professor was affiliated there as well. Now, you were offered to work a big project abroad. You didn’t even hesitate. You agreed and now it was only a week before you leave the country for a year.

You needed the space to think and heal yourself. The moment you left him was the moment you started focusing on yourself, giving your all to your career. After all, it was all you had left of you. You were no longer crying every night. You knew you were healing slowly.

As opposed to what your friends wanted you to do, you didn’t want to go out and date yet. You wanted to focus on yourself and be the best version of yourself. But his constant presence despite his absence was halting your progress. How could you move on completely if he kept reminding you that he was just there patiently waiting?

Perhaps, your own breaking point was when you received yet another gift from him. Only this time, it was a small, velvet box. Inside sat a ring with a huge diamond that almost blinded you from how it reflected back the light, as though it was taunting you. You knew what it was. You didn’t need to read the card he carefully wrote on to know what it was, ‘Sweetheart, let’s get married in June.’

At your unrestrained anger, you messaged him without thinking about where he was. In an instant, he replied that you should meet him at his restaurant, the one he secretly bought and showed you before in excitement. It was his first child, he said, something that was only his without the public knowing. You were there when it was merely starting, doing the hard work with him, dreaming with him, helping him.

Perhaps, that was why you were reluctant to go there. But you knew this had to stop. If you wanted to start anew with nothing and no one holding you back, you needed to speak to the man who broke you.

You parked your car in front of a dimly lit restaurant. With a pinched brows, you warily looked around. The place was usually full of people. Customers needed to book a table for a month before they could be catered.

So why then was it empty?

You would have turned around if not for the warm lights swarming a small area of place. You were surprised to see the door open. You were doubtful about his whereabouts, almost certain that he was messing with you if not for the message he sent that he was already there. The sound of your footsteps were deafening to you as you ventured further. You turned a corner and saw his seated form. He was looking at the floor to ceiling window, your personal touch. His eyes were focused on the scenic view outside as though he was deep in thought. With his legs spread apart and his hands resting leisurely on the table, Kim Seokjin looked as breathtaking as the day you met him.

You thought he looked even more handsome now. Of course, why wouldn’t he? It wasn’t as if it was him who lost sleep over a broken heart.

With a deep breath, you walked to him with a purpose. You shouldn’t feel self-conscious, but you did. His head turned to you slowly, his eyes taking you in. You didn’t even prepare for this. You were wearing your casual clothes, your hair in a tie and you weren’t even wearing an ounce of makeup. Yet he looked like that. He was wearing a white long sleeves, the one you bought him before. His hair was brushed away from his forehead. Kim Seokjin looked expensive.

You may looked however you liked and he would still think that you were the most precious person in the whole world. He still looked at you like you were the moon itself.

His lips tilted up when he met your eyes, “Sweetheart, you looked good-“

You marched to him and drank the glass of wine in front of him to completion. You needed the liquid courage to face him. He was watching you with raised brows, before signaling for the waiter to bring out the food and another glass.

“I ordered all your favorite food, sweetheart. Come on, take a seat-“

“Jin,” you called him with a gritted teeth. You slammed your hand on the table, leaning in to look at his eyes, willing him to see how serious you were. “You need to stop.”

He blinked, before tilting his head to the side. He leaned in closer to you, “Stop what, sweetheart?” He whispered with a tone of confusion.

“Whatever you’re doing, you need to stop.”

“Oh, you meant the gifts?” He asked in a thoughtful voice. You were appalled with the way he was acting. Was he really this delusional to think that what he was doing was in any way normal?

You took the offensive velvet box from your bag and placed it in front of him. He so slowly looked from your eyes down to the box you placed in front of him. “Didn’t you like the ring?”

Suddenly, you felt like you lost all strength just from dealing with him. You sat down in front of him, willing the heavens to give you the patience you didn’t possess at the moment.

“Why on earth would you give me an engagement ring, Seokjin?”

“Hmm, but aren’t we dating to marry?” He asked, flashing you his sweet smile. Yet, his eyes remained empty. “Isn’t that the goal, sweetheart?”

“It was the goal before you broke my heart.”

He reached across the table, and you were too slow to evade his touch. He held your hands in his larger ones, his face contorting into regret and sadness, “And I said sorry…numerous times, sweetheart. Until when are you going to punish us over an oversight? Over something that I would atone for the rest of my life? Until when are you going to be away from me?” His eyes glistened with tears, his voice sincere- so sincere that you were almost swayed.

But apologies meant nothing when you were still shattered on the ground.

You shook your head slowly, meeting his eyes with you determined ones. “I know you are sorry, Jin. And I am, too. But it doesn’t change the fact that we broke up.”

“Sweetheart, no-“

“You need to stop,” you squeezed his hand before he could even say anymore. You needed to finish this, you needed to close this chapter of your life. “No matter what you do, I’m not coming back anymore. I’m leaving Korea. I need to move on,” you whispered, looking at the eyes of the man you once loved more than yourself. You offered him a sad smile for all the things you two went through, for all the happy memories and love that had nowhere else to go anymore. You smiled for the life you had with him, and now you were turning your back on it. “And you need to move on, too.”

You left him sitting there, alone with his head bowed down.

You felt lighter than you did in the past few months. You felt like you could breathe now. With an unhurried movement, you walked to your car and opened the door when a large hand suddenly pushed the door shut again. Heart beating faster, you turned around only to find Jin towering over you. He was breathing hard, his eyes burned with something you couldn’t name. He had yet to turn to you, his body so close to you that you could feel heat emitting from him.

“J-Jin-“

He shook his head, strands of his dark hair falling on his forehead. “You’re not leaving Korea,” he stated, his brows furrowed. His jaw was clenched when he finally looked at you. “You’re not leaving me.”

Yoongi

“Honey, he’s here..again,” your friend warned you knowingly before walking past you to her cubicle. You looked heavenward and groaned. If Yoongi thought bombarding you with his presence would do him any good, he couldn’t be anymore wrong. It had been a full month since he started showing up wherever you were, uncaring if anyone recognized him. No matter where you ran, he would show up with a sad look on his face as though you kicked his dog. As though it was him who was hurt and not you.

The moment you stepped out of the building, Yoongi smiled at you. He was sporting an undercut- a thing you noticed despite him wearing a cap. It was for another of the group’s music video, another concept that the fans were anticipating. He walked near to you, his hand reaching for your bag when you evaded his touch. He frowned when you did, sadness clouding his features. “How was your day, kitten?”

You glared at him, the words of your officemates still fresh in your mind. They thought you didn’t hear them, but you did. His actions were making them think that he was the one to be pitied when it was you that he broke. It was you who cried herself to sleep for so long that you thought you were going to die from sadness.

“I know. It’s such a bitch thing to do.”

“Right? Who does she think she is?”

“That poor guy.”

Was it your fault that this was how you wanted to move on?

Was it your fault you wanted nothing more to do with him?

“Until when are you going to do this?”

He blinked slowly, his face showing all the seriousness he had. “Until you come back to me.”

“I’m not. I’m never going to come back to a cheater,” you said with a smile on your face before walking away from him.

“Maybe you should date again?”

“What?” You sputtered out, shifting your focus from your laptop to your friend who was standing beside you, leaning against the stack of paper you had in your office table.

“Well, Yoongi wouldn’t stop, right?”

“Right…”

“What if he see you out with someone else? Then maybe he’d accept that the two of you are finally done.”

You thought long and hard about what she said, and maybe…just maybe this would work. You chose to ignore the warning thump of your heart, the one that knew how possessive he was, the one that knew how he reacted before when you interacted with other men.

You found yourself thoroughly enjoying someone else’s company. It was the first date, yet he managed to intrigue you. His quick wit, sense of humor, and gentlemanly ways softened your heart. You were still smiling when you entered your apartment late at night. In your arms was the beautiful bouquet of flowers he got you. You turned on the light and walked to your home when you saw him.

You screamed when you saw Min Yoongi sitting on your sofa, his eyes staring at nothingness. He looked…dangerous, as though he was one wrong move away from losing it. Slowly, so slowly, he looked at you and then at the flowers you were holding.

You wanted to hide it from his vicious eyes. You wanted to hide it as though you did something wrong. But you didn’t…right?

“What the fuck are you doing here?! This is trespassing!”

He chuckled humorlessly before tilting his head to the side, “How was your date, kitten?”

You stepped back without a thought when he stood up. “Y-you need to leave,” your voice trembled, your eyes widened and your breaths were shallowed. Yoongi looked…unstable.

“Are we equal now, kitten?” He murmured, his legs carrying him closer to you. He looked really curious, “I broke your trust, so your broke my heart.”

“It’s not the same-“

“Does that mean all is fair now?” His low voice scared you now that he was nearer. His dark eyes taking you in. “Will you take me back now?”

“I didn’t cheat on you. You did. We are done. How does that count as cheating?”

“I’m getting impatient, kitten,” he confessed, looking down at his feet. He poked his tongue in his cheek, before slowly looking up at you. “I need you back or else…I think I’m really going to lose it…”

You tried to push his body away from you, eager to create distance between the two of you. But his body remained grounded in front of you. “You need to leave-“

“You’re going to love me again,” he stated, so certain that you would. His dark eyes bore into yours. You were so distracted and intimidated with his proximity that you failed to notice the syringe he was holding. And before you knew it, a stinging pain could be felt in your neck.

And then you lost consciousness. But you need not worry, kitten. He was there to catch you.

“It’s done,” he said as soon as Hoseok picked up the phone. “Meet us in front.”

Hoseok

You frowned as you looked down at your ringing phone. Your ex’s sister had been endlessly attempting to contact you, yet you didn’t bother to read any of her messages. You only messaged her once to inform her that her brother and you were done, and you thanked her profusely on the kindness she showed on you. After all, she was almost like a family to you. Perhaps, that was why his betrayal hurt more. He wasn’t the only one out of your life, but for your peace of mind and healing, his family as well.

It had been more than two months since you escaped from him with the help of Namjoon. It had been that long since you blocked every communication you had with him.

His betrayal still burned, but you were in the path of healing.

In fact, your friend convinced you to go out and try again. She said you didn’t have to take the dates seriously, that you could just dipped your toes into the water again. You were in a relationship for so long that she wanted you to see what was out there. And so, you were trying.

You realized there was so much out there than what you originally thought.

Your phone rang once again when you got off work. Your finger hovered over the screen, and something told you that you should answer her. You brought your phone to your ear, your voice small as your greeted her.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you finally answered!” Her voice was oozing with worry, and if you could see her now you would pity the kind woman.

“W-why? Are you okay?”

“It’s about Hoseok-“

You were shaking your head before she could even finish, “I don’t want to know anything about him anymore. I’m sorry.”

“I know. I know, I’m so sorry what he did was so wrong that I haven’t been speaking to him. I am on your side, Y/N. Completely. B-but…he’s my brother, too. I’m not asking you to take him back. I just… I just don’t know what to do. He needs help, Y/N,” she hurriedly stated, scared that you wouldn’t hear her out. She knew what she was going to ask of you was too much, but her love for her brother outweighed the shame.

You were quiet for so long that she thought you dropped the call. You were thinking hard about what she was saying. You didn’t want to do this. You didn’t want to see him. You didn’t even want to care.

“What are you asking from me?”

“Just go to him. Just once. J-just convince him to seek help. Please. My mother and I no longer know what to do.”

You found yourself waiting outside the apartment you once shared with him, your eyes focused on your shoes as you waited for Hoseok’s sister to open the door. You didn’t want to presume that the code didn’t change. You didn’t even want to try, you didn’t want to know.

“You’re here,” her worried voice woke you up from your reverie. She wrapped her arms around you gently like an old friend would before stepping away and looking at you with sorrow in her eyes. “I’m really sorry for what happened. And I’m so sorry for dragging you back into this mess.”

You couldn’t even say it was fine because it wasn’t. Instead, you squeezed her hands and offered her an understanding smile. She lead you to what was once your room, pausing outside the door. She hesitated before looking at you.

“H-he’s not the most stable lately. Ever since Jimin saw you out with someone else, he has been like this…”

“Jimin told him that?” You asked in disbelief, racking your brain on the past few dates you went to, all of which were harmless. When did Jimin see you?

She sighed before shaking her head, “He really shouldn’t have told him that. He knew how…intense Hoseok is when it comes to you. You’ll see.”

She knocked lightly on the closed door before opening it. The room was dark and cold, extremely opposite to how it was when you lived there. The only light that seeped through was now from the hallway. You could barely see a man’s form lying down on the bed, his back facing the door.

“Hoseok, you have a visitor,” she called him tenderly, opening the door further so you could step in. Yet, you didn’t. You didn’t know if you should.

“Send them away,” he answered in the coldest and lowest voice you had ever heard from him. He didn’t even lift his head, didn’t even want to acknowledge whoever it was.

“Hoseok, maybe you should-“

“I said I don’t want to talk to anyone! I want to be alone! I deserve to be alone-“ he suddenly screamed, turning his head to your direction. The vein in his neck was protruding from the force of his emotions. And the way he suddenly lost all his anger, the way his face mellowed down from fury to disbelief shocked you.

Suddenly, he had the strength when it had been months since he felt like he lost all his firmness. He stood up and ran to you, his hands cradling your face as he looked at you with wander in his eyes. His lips were trembling, his eyes looked desperate and borderline crazed as he finally saw the love of his life standing in front of him after you evaded him for months. It had been so long since he broke your heart and you in turn shattered his very being.

Didn’t you know he wouldn’t survive without you?

Didn’t you know he’d rather perished than live in his world without you by his side?

His tears were falling from his eyes, drenching your hands that were trying to push his hand aside. “Angel,” he called for you sweetly, his trembling as he gazed into your eyes. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you, my angel. I’ve busied myself buying you everything that you deserve. Our closet is full of things I know you’d like. Would you like to take a look?”

Your eyes widened the more he opened his mouth, the more you listened to his words that made no sense. You turned to look at his sister who was looking at you with worry. This was what she meant. Her brother did nothing but to fill his days with the thoughts of you, and yet he failed to take care of himself.

It didn’t get past your notice that he looked tired, that he looked as though he hadn’t been paying attention to himself. It was so opposite to what you knew of him. Hoseok was particular with the way he presented himself. He was disciplined in himself. But the man holding you right now was anything but the well-made man you knew.

Hoseok looked thinner.

“I-I’m not here to come back to you,” you said in a wary voice, pushing him away but this time, you were successful. You tried to be as gentle as possible. After all, before the worst, he was the best. Before he broke you, he completed you. You were gentle to the version of Hoseok who loved you with all his heart, not the one who cheated on you.

He looked confused and saddened by your actions, his head tilted to the side.

“No. No! You’re here because you forgive me, right?” He insisted, his form kept on coming near you despite you evading his touches. “You’re here because those boys can’t love you the way I do, right?!”

“Hoseok,” your voice trembled, your eyes shining with tears by just seeing his current state. You understood now why his sister was worried; Hoseok was on edge of the cliff.

He suddenly stopped, his arms falling lifelessly to his side. His head was bowed down, his dark hair obstructing his face.

“I hurt you,” he concluded sadly. The tall man in front of you looked like a lost child, like he had lost all the hope in the world and had already given up. “I hurt you. And I should just die.”

What?

You hadn’t even processed what he said when he walked briskly to the kitchen, his strides purposeful. You and his sister ran after him, and you were almost too late. He had opened a bottle of pills and poured the contents in his open palm. He was about to put them inside his mouth when you hugged him so tight that he accidentally let go of them. They clattered on the floor around his feet.

You were openly crying now, your shoulders shaking. Your unstoppable tears drenched his shirt- and it was enough to snap him from whatever he was doing. He turned around, his brows pinched together as he looked at your unconsolable form.

“W-why are you crying, my angel?” Hoseok asked, tilting you chin to meet his empty eyes. “You don’t want me gone?”

You shook your head, pained that he was even capable of doing what he was about to do. “N-no. Please-“

“You love me?” He asked, hope in his eyes. “You take me back, then?”

His sister was watching the two of you, and at your hesitation, she mouthed ‘please’.

And so you nodded, and Hoseok pulled you in his arms, never to let you go. You didn’t see the smirk he had in his face.

1K notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

Dirty Work 41

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, 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: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: it's thursday and i'm thirsty.

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!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You have no tears left. When you’re still and silent, standing in Odin’s arms, slumped against him, the birds sing a little louder and the sun shines a little bright. You feel almost cleansed despite the hollow at the pit of your stomach. You lift your head and wipe your damp cheeks as he slowly lets his embrace fall away from you.

You sniffle and peer back through the garden, towards the house. You’e not ready to face them all, not with puffy eyes and a heavy heart. Odin pats your shoulder gently, rubbing your arm as he coos your name.

“I have something else to show you,” he says and offers his hand.

You take it and gulp down the last of your grief. He turns you away from the great Odinson manse and leads you around the fountain. Leaves rustle softly and the water trickles soothingly. He guides you down a path hidden behind a cluster of bramble, overgrown with moss and ivy, littered with winged samara and sprouting blooms.

The noise of the fountain fades behind you as you enter an archway formed by outstretched maple branches, canopied in the spring leaves. There’s a small structure ahead shrouded in purple wisteria. A gazebo, smaller than that on Laufeyson’s property, forged in stone with rounded windows upon each side. Within, the walls have benches jutting out, another doorway opposite the entrance, looking out into a shadow swath of untrimmed foliage.

“It is old, a bit unkempt, much like myself,” he chuckles as he lets you go.

“It’s beautiful,” you preen as you admire the neat lines between each stone block, “wonderful… I… I love it.”

“It’s a perfect hiding place,” he muses, “a perfect place to have one’s breakfast without disturbance.”

You turn to him, a question stitches between your brows.

“I will fetch you tea? Yes? Perhaps some fruit and something more substantial?”

“I…”

“Dear, you think overly much of others and not enough of yourself. Sit, enjoy your solitude while you can, and I will return with all you need,” he insists.

“I can’t, Mr. Lauf–”

“You let me worry for my son,” he interjects. “I’ve no doubt his part in your despair.”

You don’t argue further. You wouldn’t dare. You lower your head and sit along the stone bench against the wall and turn to peer out the window. It is wonderful there. Like a little world of your own.

You glance over but he’s already gone. You barely even heard him with the buzz of insects and scratch of sneaky critters all around. You turn back to the long window and watch a dragonfly skim along the ground, whizzing up, down, and back and forth. It’s as if you escaped into a book you read as a girl, where everything was magical and spectacular. You don’t think you’ll get a happy ending though.

Your mind wanders through the greenery and back to the house. The bedroom, dark in the small hours of the night, laying awake, staring at the wall, Mr. Laufeyson’s warm breaths puffing into your neck. Those moments when he doesn’t seem so intimidating but remains perplexing. One moment, wrapped around you, the next toying with you like a puppet.

Your core tingles and you bend your legs on the bench, squeezing them together. The sensations swirl in your mind with the shower steam. As delightful as it all was, your heart rents with shame. The way he left you on the tile, the expectation you would get yourself up and go to him, ready to be used again. As always, you have a duty.

Mr. Laufeyson does not care for you as a person, you doubt you’ll ever be that in his eyes. You are just another possession, like his records on the shelf, or that telescope he polishes so vehemently. Just another number in his collection.

You hear a snap and blow away the anxiety as best you can. You can’t worry about it so deeply, you know what you agreed to. He has given what he’s promised; you’ve been fed, clothed, and housed. You need him more than he could ever need you.

You turn to the doorway as Odin appears again, a tray in his hands. He brings it to the next bench and sets it down. There’s a cup of tea and a stack of square waffles beneath a dusting of sugar and heaps of berries. It smells delicious as your mouth waters for a taste.

“I’ve brought this as well,” he stands straight and takes a book from under his arm, “I hope it will keep you entertained.”

“Oh?” You watch him set it down.

“Today is for you, dear, you won’t be disturbed, I will see to it,” he declares, “Walpurgisnacht approaches and we all must be ready for the spring. Lay the past behind so we can start again.”

You lower your eyes, “thank you, Odin.”

“No need for that,” he says, “I only ask that you do one thing for me,” he nears and pets your head. You peer up at him as you heart seizes. “You will be kind to yourself.”

“I… I’ll try.”

“You should take care of her,” he points to you, “I rather like her a lot and I hate to see those I care for suffer.”

You smile, “I will.”

“Better,” he grins and retreats, “I will be in to check on you periodically.”

“Thank you,” you call after him and he gives a half-salute before he’s off, whistling into the air.

You exhale and let the last of the tension slake away. You drag the tray close and cut into the fluffy stack. You remember how you always wanted a waffle maker. Instead, you always had the frozen waffles you slid into the old overheating toaster. These are much better, they’re sweet and oh so yummy.

Sitting there, in the small gazebo, amidst the wilderness, you feel like a bird in a nest. Safe, cozy, and alone.

✨

You lose yourself in the pages of the book. The sun shifts as you move with it, keeping the ink in its light as you imbibe every word like sweet nectar. It’s like staring in a mirror as you feed on the tale of one, Jane Eyre.

Your literary meditation is splintered by the sudden ripple of a shadow and the clearing of a throat; gentle, almost reluctant to tear through the serenity. You look up at Odin as he stands in the archway, a small curve amidst his thick white beard.

“Apologies,” he says as he comes forward to gather up the tray, “I’m afraid it’s time.”

You deflate and close the book. You stand and hold out the book, “I can get all that.”

“No, no, I can manage,” he assures you, “and that is for you, dear. Keep that as your own.”

“I couldn’t–”

“You have some to go, haven’t you?” He eyes the book, “please, I have enough books.”

You look down at the book and hug it. It’s like a new best friend. You just want to spend all your time amidst its pages.

“Thank you.”

“Whatever you need,” he backs out of the gazebo, “come with me now. Let us put our masks on.”

You giggle and follow him. He says it so well. It’s like slipping back into a costume. You feel the peace chipping away and the tension once more has you rigid. Back to the real world.

“Now, we cannot give ourselves away,” he halts just out of sight of the veranda, “I shall go ahead and you will follow that path,” he turns and nods behind the row of hedges, “follow it around the front and you may slip in.”

“Oh, uh…” You blink and look over your shoulder, “that way?”

“Yes, it will take you right around to the front door.”

“Right, thank you… again.”

He bows his head and steps forward. You turn off in your own escape as the slippers on your feet clap against the ground. You come out in the golden sunshine and tramp across the stonework of the arced drive. As you come up the steps, the door opens from within. You stop at the middle stare and gape up.

“There you are,” Mr. Laufeyson greets, almost an accusation, “where’ve you been off to?”

Your brows pop up and you peer around, “reading.”

“Reading? You couldn’t do so in your room?” He challenges.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laufeyson. I broke the rules.”

“You broke the rules– get inside,” he points you inside as he steps back. You obey and he snaps the door at your entrance, turning towards you with a finger in the air. “Is that all you have to say?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, I’m very sorry.”

He sighs and drops his hand, gripping his hip, “where were you reading?”

“Outside.”

“Outside– be straight, where?”

“In the garden,” you say plainly, lips down turned, “I only wanted to watch the butterflies.”

You look up at him, a pout in your lower lip, and bat your lashes. You clutch the book tighter and his eyes fall to squint at it. He reaches and curls his fingers around the top, wiggling it free. He flips it over to read the spine.

“This is a first edition,” he states as he examines, “where did you find this?”

The disbelief in his voice makes you nervous. First edition?

“Is it very old?” You ask.

He winces and looks at you, his green eyes lit, “1847… I’d say so.”

“Oh?” You bat your lashes.

“Not in its original form,” he turns it over, “it’s been rebound into a single volume. The first print was in three parts and this cover… it can’t possibly be so ancient.”

You gulp and purse your lips.

“So I have to wonder, where you found this,” he sneers at you.

“Well, I… your father gave it to me.”

“Gave it to you? To read? He lent it to you?”

“Um, he just said… to keep it as my own,” you shrug.

“Do you--keep it? A first edition Bronte?” He sounds ready to explode, “so that is where you’ve been? With my father?”

“I saw him, Mr. Laufeyson, but I was mostly alone,” you sniff, “I shouldn’t have gone out. I’m sorry. Again.”

“Is that all you’re going to say? Sorry, sorry, sorry?”

You nod, “sorry.”

He closes his eyes and pinches his nose, “you will stay close.” He offers the book back to you, “put this away and put on some proper shoes,” he looks down at the oversized slippers, “I’ve some errands to run for mother and you will come along. Do your duty.”

✨

Mr. Laufeyson is quiet throughout the drive. So are you. You accept your penance and roil in the thick silence, fingers twiddling and twining restlessly. His sighs make you flinch as you await further reprimand.

He pulls in before a shop front of white trimmed in red. He gets out without waiting and you follow after him. You trail him inside as he strolls across to the counter where women in red aprons and caps smile back at him.

“Hello, I’ve come to pick up an order for Odinson,” he declares flatly.

“Frigga? Oh yes,” the shorter of the pair flits into the backroom.

“You don’t remember me?” The other woman asks. Laufeyson’s eyes shoot darts at her and his brows arch.

“I recall you spilled vodka on my wedding shoes, yes,” he scoffs.

“Oh,” she makes a face, “I thought maybe you’d forgotten that part.”

“Mm,” he hums and taps his fingers on the shining countertop.

The other woman returns and slides over a large white box, a red seal stuck along the corner to keep it firmly closed. Laufeyson takes out his wallet, “how much then?”

“Paid for,” the woman proclaims, “all yours.”

“Right,” he slides the box off and pivots smoothly.

You peer back before you scurry ahead of him to the door, opening it as his hands are full. That woman was at his wedding? Did she know Sif? Was it a big event? Did everyone go? You don’t ask any of the questions that flood your head. You’d rather not know.

He balances the box in one hand and reaches into his pocket for his keys, unlocking the trunk. He tucks the box firmly against the emergency kit to keep it in place.

“Whatever it is, it should be kept cool in here,” he shuts the lid, “though I wonder why mother couldn’t have it brought with tomorrow’s delivery.”

You don’t say a word. You wouldn’t know either. He strides back along the side of the car and dips into the driver seat. You mirror him as you get in on the passenger’s and he presses the button to turn the engine. He sighs and rests the heel of his hand on the steering wheel. He glances in the rear view.

“I’ve another stop to make.”

That’s all he says. It isn’t a question, just a statement. Though you wonder why he even made the declaration. You don’t need to know, you just go along.

He backs out and rolls out of the lot into the street. You distract yourself with the other storefronts and the veneers of city buildings. He drives onto an avenue and slows along the curb, shifting to a stop before he once more shuts off the engine.

Again, he gets out without instruction. You follow. That’s all you can do. He heads up to the grey brick house. Where are you? It isn’t until you’re at the front door that you notice the metal placard mounted on the wall; Bragi Skald, Antiques and Artifacts.

Laufeyson clangs the large knocker on the door and checks his watch. You wait. It’s quiet. You see no light through the windows but the curtains are drawn flush to the windows, as if they’ve been sealed.

The hinges whine suddenly as the door swings inward, “Ah, Loki!” A blond man at least head shorter than his visitor greets, “wonderful to see you again. I did have it in my ear that you were about, I was curious as you when you should darken my doorway.”

“Bragi,” Laufeyson replies tersely.

“And who is this gorgeous creature,” the man’s crystal blue eyes surprise you as the bow in his lip deepens. He sends you a wink and offers his hand, “forgive me, sweetheart, I nearly missed you there, and how could I overlook such a ravishing woman.”

“Enough,” Laufeyson girds.

“I haven’t even introduced myself–”

“This is Bragi,” Laufeyson introduces the man then utters your name pointedly in return.

“Ah, beautiful name but that hardly answers my curiosity. Who is she? Oh, don’t tell me, you’re marrying again–”

“Hardly,” Laufeyson swipes away the thought with his hand, “I only need to be away from my family.”

“Yes, yes, of course. With Walpurgisnacht, I can only imagine–”

“Be glad you only have to imagine it,” Laufeyson scowls. “Are you going to welcome us in or shall we continue to stand on your porch like tramps?”

“Come, come,” Bragi opens the door wider, “Lady, please, don’t mind the clutter.”

Laufeyson waves you ahead of him. You enter and hold back your shock at the interior. You can hardly see the walls for the stacks of books all around, many with sheaths of paper jutting out. It smells like cinnamon and hint of dust.

“What are we in the mood for? Tea? Or something stronger? I’ve some absinthe–”

“Don’t be mad,” Laufeyson rebukes, “tea will do fine. Just tea, none of your tricks.”

“You speak to me of tricks?” Bragi hums, “is that a sense of humour I sense, oh, dour Loki.”

You lock your jaw to keep from gaping. You’ve never heard anyone talk to Mr. Laufeyson like that, not anyone outside his family, and even Thor did not mock him so lightly.

“Do you want tea?” Laufeyson looks over at you.

“If it isn’t any trouble.”

“Tea,” Laufeyson snaps his fingers at Bragi.

“Do you like scones, lady?” Bragi turns his attention to you.

“I’m not very hungry, thank you–”

“Lady!” A squawk makes you jump, drawing your attention to the flutter of blue feathers that descends to perch on the banister post. A great blue parrot tweaks its head and repeats the word.

“Oh, hush,” Bragi shoos away the bird but only receives a nip of its sharp beak, “don’t listen to Fossegrim. He talks too much.” Bragi shakes his head and retreats down the hallway, “tea, tea, tea…” he chants as if he might forget.

Laufeyson tuts, “he speaks of talking too much…”

You stare up at the blue parrot as it stares back at you. Around its eyes and mouth are bright yellow strips. It’s a pretty creature.

“Lady,” it bawks again and hops off the banister, winging around the space to land on your shoulder.

You gasp as Laufeyson takes a step back. He just sends a troubled look to the bird and glances around, “in here,” he points you through the doorway behind him.

“Um…” you move carefully, trying not to disturb the bird.

In the next room, a large harp stands in one corner, a piano the other, and a litter of various instruments on shelves mounted on the walls. There’s a twelve-string guitar on the sofa, leaned against the armrest as if it was left there haphazardly.

“Be very careful,” Laufeyson returns, “it bites.”

“Bite!” The parrot squawks and snaps in Mr. Laufeyson’s direction. He sighs and once more eludes the bird’s breadth.

“Wish he’d lock that thing up,” he mutters.

You stand like a statue, nervous. You turn your head slowly to look at the parrot. It leans in and nuzzles your hair. You stay as you are, paralysed as you fear it might snap at you too. A grating chitter rises from its throat, softer than its former screech. It continues the purrlike noise as it rocks on your shoulder.

“Is it singing?” You ask as Laufeyson stares with arms crossed.

“I have no idea. Let’s hope it’s not growling.”

You frown and clasp your hands tight. If the bird keeps Mr. Laufeyson away, it can’t be so bad.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #dirty work #series #au #maid au #avengers #mcu #marvel #thor

208 notes · View notes

jealousjersey · 1 month

Text

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖”come home”⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

☆ tags // mike schmidt x reader, loser!mike x dom!gn!reader,

☆ mentions // mike is a needy loser who begs for your attention, dick sucking, edging, cum drinking, reader doms mike, angst, fluff, smut, needy and desperate mike, reader has like wrapped around their finger., missionary, unprotected p in v (wrap it) minors dni 18+

☆ a/n // i still love writing for mike schmidt this is heaven ty lou

your work has been consuming you, working long hours, barely coming home on time, sleeping all until your next shift and just being busy. your boyfriend, mike, hates it. he hates that you’re never home, he hates that he never sees you, and he hates that you two haven’t had sex in weeks.

he’s been a brat about it ever since you took more hours, and he never took the time to realize that you’re only working so hard to provide for things he’d want, i mean, you are the house breadwinner. ever since his pizzeria secrurity job ended you’ve had to work since he couldn’t get hired anywhere.

as you’re working you get texts after texts from mike. “are you gonna be home on time?” “i miss you.” “i need you it’s been so long” he spams you.

god, he’s so needy. you roll your eyes at the text. if he doesn’t chill the hell out for atleast 3 more hours you’re going to loose your mind, does he not know that it’s hard for you too?

as the hours go by you think of ways to surprise him. maybe some lingerie? maybe a new toy for you two to experiment with? maybe some flavored lube? the possibilities are endless. you count down to the second you get off your shift, simply texting mike “wait up on me, i have a surprise.” as you clock out and go to your car.

you arrive at the nearest mall and get a cute lingerie set from the Spencer’s located within. a black lacy bra with a golden heart charm between the breasts, the bottom piece is a black and lacy with “baby” on the butt written in rhinestones. you knew he would love it but you didn’t expect him to like it as much as he did.

as you’re getting back in your car to drive home, you get a sudden rush of excitement. wondering how he’ll react at the site of you. you even put on red lipstick to top it all off. as you arrive at home, you change into your new set in your car, it fit perfectly around your shape. you swiftly but your work clothes back on. you still need this to be a surprise.

you enter the house and throw your keys on the kitchen table. you walk into your room and mike is waiting patiently for you, god his bulge is showing just by the thought of you coming home.

before he could say anything you strip as soon as you get through your door, watching his eyes gaze at your body in your new set. giving him a spin around so he could see your rhinestone covered ass.

mikes eyes widen at the site of you, a wet spot already forming at the tip of the tent in his sweatpants. “oh my god” he says softly as he stares at your figure.

you stand in your set in front of him, your fingers dancing across your chest, driving him crazy. you get on your knees in front of him and bring his sweatpants down, followed by his boxers. pulling them down just below his balls. his dick springs out of his pants, hot and red at the tip with precum pooling out.

you leave one kiss on his tip as your lips take in his precum. leaving the red lipstick kiss mark on his dick. he immediately groans at the sensation, feeling better than he has in weeks just by the expectation of you giving him head.

but you’re not giving in that easily. you kiss and lick around his shaft, but never long enough for him to get a release from it, your lipstick leaving red stains all around his hard on.

“please suck, i’ve been thinking about it all night please” he pleads with almost tears in his eyes from the overstimulation. it’s so cute seeing him like this but who are you to say no to his request?

as per his request you start, you wrap your red lips around his tip and his hand pushes your head down, it’s almost insulting but god, it’s so needy of him and that drove you crazy. you fully emerge yourself around him and he lets out a sore whimper.

you gag on his dick as you’re sucking, he throws his head back and keeps his hand on the back of your head, gripping on your hair. his dick twitches in your mouth signaling he’s close to cumming. “m’gonna cum” he moans, only the whites of his eyes showing. as his words hit your ears you stop, red lipstick covering the shaft of him.

he looks devastated at your action. “please let me cum, i’ve been waiting so long.” he begs. it’s almost cute how desperate he is for you. you want to keep going for him but you stop yourself. “now is it really fair if you get to get off and i don’t? is that fair? i’ve been waiting just as long as you have.” you say

you push him back on the bed, his dick springing up, tip still red and sensitive. you wrap your hands around him, feeling the warmth of him.

you basically rip your panties off of yourself, positioning yourself on top of him, sliding his dick inside you, grinding on him as you look him in the eyes. “you look so pretty when i’m overstimulating your dick. so, so pretty.” you say as you place a hand on his cheek

he moans your name as he places his hands on your hips, so tightly that you’re certain it’ll leave bruises. you want that, the pain would be a reminder of this amazing night.

your hair flips around your neck, your face flushed with a pink tint and sweat beaming off your forehead. his dick assaults your walls as his tip brushes your gspot causing you to let out a soft moan of his name. his fingers make their way to your clit, moving soft circles along it, making you pant soft sounds.

mike almost cums on contact with your body, but he knows he has to stop himself. he has to make this good for you. he has to make this last as long as he can. “fuck, i’m gonna cum mike.” you whimper. he speeds up, hitting your gspot with each thrust he leads you to bounce on.

“m’so close” you whimper, his fingers bring themselves to your chest, god he loved it so much. especially in that new bra. his teeth graze your nipples, biting them so softly but it feels so much more intense this way. so intimate, yet so dirty.

“can i cum now? please” he moans. how could you say no? “cum in me, please cum in me” you say, and he does. leaving thick white pools in you, the warmth making you shake as you finish, as you remove yourself from on him, you pour out a mix of both of your releases. he brings a finger to your wetness and brings it up to his mouth, sucking on them. he loves the taste of you.

please come home earlier next time.

160 notes · View notes

hwasoup · 2 months

Text

Tale As Old As Time

playlist

art credit: marbipa

hii guuyys its soup !! what a crazy week it has been. I have a class where my group is shit except for 3 ppl and i've been really excited for spring break. Talking about spring break, after this update I wont be updating until after my spring break, However that doesn't mean i might release little mini stories that take place during this chapter !! I will still be active, juuust not writing as much. spring break for me ends on March 17th so be on the lookout for an update during that week !!

for this chapter I took some actual lines and dialouge from a book and sonnet !!

prev | next

warnings: pure fluff if you're allergic to it and maybe a little smexy thoughts, and some evil planning

words: 3.3k

Chapter 5: A Second Chance

After arriving back at the castle…

Miguel is taken all the way to his room where he could rest and heal from his wounds. Y/N peeked inside his room worried but was shut out by Lyla who softly told her that Miguel is currently having his room cleaned up. Y/N nodded as she waited outside.

After what seemed to be an hour, Y/N peeked back inside with a cloth and some hot water in a bucket. She noticed how his room is tidier and much cleaner from the original state from what it was. She thought that maybe, the Beast was too embarrassed for her to enter his room in such a grave state. Lyla hopped in the room besides Y/N and led him to the bed where Miguel was laying. Everyone was huddled by the bed with worried faces as they hoped for Miguel to feel better. Miguel on the other hand was still a bit grumpy and in pain as he was licking his own wounds. Y/N with a small sigh picked up a stool and sat right beside the bed and placed the rag into the hot water. She then picked it up and squeezed it to remove any excess water. “Here, and stop licking that you’ll only infect it further...” she says softly as she approaches him. Miguel looked at her and snarled a bit, Y/N sighed, and she grabbed his arm and placed the wet rag on the wound. Miguel roared loudly in pain and yelled at her “COÑO THAT HURTS”

“Well if you didn’t move so much then It wouldn’t have hurt!”

“WELL IF YOU DIDN’T RUN AWAY, THIS WOULD HAVE NEVER HAPPENED”

“WELL IF YOU DIDN’T FRIGHTEN ME, I WOULDN’T HAVE RAN AWAY”

Miguel opened his mouth but then stopped as she did have a point. “W-WELL, YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE GONE TO THE WEST WING” he smirks to himself as he thinks that he got the final word. “WELL YOU SHOULD LEARN TO HOLD YOUR TEMPER!” Miguel’s smirk dropped from that statement; she also had a point too.

Miguel eventually gave up as he dropped his arm for her to treat him. He did have to admit, it felt nice being cared for by someone. He growled again as he felt the heat and sting from the wet rag go back on his arm. Y/N looked at him and softly said “sorry if it stings a bit…” Miguel simply had to hold in his growls as he felt the hot water from the rag permeate his wounds. Y/N eventually looked at him and whispered “by the way… gracias ..por salvar mi vida…” Miguel was surprised and even felt touched for her appreciation. He didn’t know what to call the emotion, but he liked it. He turned to look at her with kind eyes “you’re welcome...”

After a while, Miguel fell asleep and Y/N slowly walked out of his room along with the others who were watching their interactions. Y/N turns around and crouches a little as she hears Miles say “Thank you…we’re grateful for you helping him..”

Y/N sighs and asks “why do you all care for him so much ? He’s so…well you know

Peter was polishing Mayday a little and looked up at Y/N “well…it's because we all grew up with him, we basically looked after each other for his entire life” Y/N’s heart crumbled a little for them “But…he’s the reason why he basically cursed all of you, why stay with him?”

Jess waddled up to her and sighed “well…it's because we didn’t do anything when his mother died and when his own brother left him. It was just Me and Peter, the others eventually came in as their own parents couldn’t work in this castle anymore. You see when we knew him…he was this bright boy that thought he could do anything, but…in the end we’re still servants, we couldn’t even do anything when the King took him under his wing and molded him to be the person he is today…”

In that moment Y/N understood everything now, she understood why these people were so loyal to him. She felt pretty bad and well ultimately decided that maybe she should give Miguel a second chance..

As the days went by, Y/N constantly went to see Miguel with medicine and more hot water to clean his wounds. Everyday she would hear stories from the staff of how Miguel was and their experiences with him, Heck even Hobie gave her a funny story. She felt motivated for a strange reason to help him and maybe even get to properly know him a bit better. Y/N eventually found out what the spell was about and she remembered asking Gwen what it meant if the last petal fell. In Gwen’s words she basically said “we become dead antique looking objects” Y/N also asked Peter when she found him on what it would take to break the spell, Miles was eager to tell her but Peter stopped him by simply saying “it's not something you should really worry about” Y/N thankfully took a hint and moved along with her day.

More days passed and Y/N started simply reading aloud to kill time

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,”

Miguel slowly stirred to Y/N’s voice and his eyes fluttered to hear her reciting a sonnet. His heart strangely softened at her voice, but he assumed it was because he appreciated her care for him during the past few days.He then heard the lines she spoke and immediately recognized it and finished the last few lines

“And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines”

Y/N stopped to look at him in awe “conoces a Shakespeare ??” she said in a slightly excited tone. Miguel moved from the left to right side of the bed to look at her, his heart slightly pounding at the sight of her “well..I had quite the expensive education” Y/N smiled at him “My favorite play is Romeo and Juliet” Miguel rolled his eyes and groaned “why am I not surprised” he said shaking his head in utter disappointment. “Como ?” Miguel chuckled and responded “All of that heartache pining, and romance, it's just-” Miguel makes a gagging noise to express how cringe he finds it.

Y/N chuckled a little and smiled. “Well, Mr. Cringe, from this assessment I can concur that you’re feeling a bit better, If you’ll excuse me, I promised Mayday that we would build a snowman” Miguel nodded as he understood and watched her walk out of his room. He lay there in confusion and wondered if he was going mad…"diablo, que hermosa” he muttered as he covered his face with his arm.

__________________________________________

An hour later

Y/N was walking outside with the adorable teacup to build a snowman. She smiled each time that Mayday pointed out little items that could be used to build. The two happily built a snowman and stole a carrot from Felipe’s stables to place as the snowman’s nose. Too bad Felipe saw them and started playing with them as well and squished the snowman. However, at a balcony high up in the castle, Miguel was watching Y/N from a distance. He softly watched her and smiled each time she laughed or smiled. He looked down at his bandaged wound and sighed as he wondered what to do. He looked beside him as Peter was paying attention to his darling daughter, hoping she wouldn't get trampled by Felipe. “Hey Peter…uhh…what do you call it when you-” Miguel gulped a little “when you feel kind of fluttery when staring at someone” Peter turned to him and smirked “is this someone, a certain woman who’s frolicking in the snow” Miguel groaned at his teasing and sighed “coño vale ok, jeez…but uhh…what do I do for her…I mean..she’s done so much for me” Peter then thinks for a bit and then smiled when thinking of something “why don’t you show her the library, trust me she’ll like it.” Miguel nodded as he took his advice and decided to show Y/N the library. A bit later during the day Miguel found Y/N inside the castle playing chess with Miles and asked her to join him for a special occasion. Y/N agreed and followed him, but immediately was tied a ribbon on her eyes “It’s a surprise and I don’t want you peeking.”

Y/N smiled and simply allowed Miguel to guide her into the greatest surprise of her life. She heard a door open and felt his large furry hands take her inside. She kept on walking until he brought her to a stop. "Can I take this ribbon off now?” Y/N asked. “Ya en un ratito” Miguel excitedly went to the windows and opened the curtains for light to come inside. Y/N could see the light seep in through the ribbon, but she still couldn’t make out what she’s looking at. “Can I take the ribbon off now ??” Miguel smiled with his toothy grin and told her “Yes, you may take off the ribbon” Y/N untied the ribbon from the back of her head and then finally looked into the room she was actually in and her jaw dropped. There were books everywhere in this giant room. “Oh my..this library…it's so...Dios Mio, it's so grand, it's wonderful !!”

Miguel smiled at her reaction, it was definitely priceless and worth it to see her cheeks rise and to see her eyes ever so slightly crinkle at the ends of her face. “I suppose it is” he responded “well…then since you like it so much then it's yours to keep” Y/N excitedly looked at him and asked “ Have you read all of these books ?” Miguel chuckles and scoffs “Not all of them, some of them are in Latin” Y/N laughs and smiles “was that a joke ? you like telling jokes now ?” Miguel turned around to a table, but then looked back at her and smiled “maybe”

—- —- —- —- —- —- —- —- —-

It has now been around 3 months since Y/N has stayed in the castle and ever since the two of them have slowly developed a bond. They became friends, but at the same time they really weren’t. The staff noticed it and were just simply happy to be working again. There were certain instances where Miguel was a bit gruff, awkward, or just had odd behaviors, but Y/N found solutions to each one. When eating soup at the dinner table, instead of using spoons they would sip the contents of the dish from the bowl itself. When eating meat, they would use their hands, and when reading books the two must sit together and share the book.

“Who knew that this would work ?” Jess whispered. Peter nodded and smiled “I'm surprised myself, it's quite encouraging to be honest” Little Mayday who was with them looked up at her father “daddy ? what IS werking ?” Peter chuckled and looked at the little teacup “nothing to twist your little head around May, come on now we have things to do in the kitchen” Mayday nodded and hopped along with her father to the kitchen. Jess peering at the newly formed friendship smiled “don’t screw up Miguel”. She left the room to another part of the castle to attend her duties at.

During this period of friendship, Miguel had started to wear clothes instead of the rags he wore, he wanted to look more presentable to Y/N. Luckily the seamstress was willing to sew new clothes for him in his furry stature. Y/N had invited him to walk outside to finish the book they were currently reading: The Count of Monte Cristo. He eventually met up with y/n as they took a stroll outside in the wintery snow. Y/N every once in a while, would peer up at him to spot any grimaces in his face, but was met instead with a calm look. As she read, she couldn’t help but peer at him one more time, her thoughts straying away to some impurities, her thoughts slipping as she imagined Miguel’s furry chest against her own body. She blushed at her own actions and disregarded it. She didn’t want to believe she just thought of something like that. The two finally walked by a bridge as she finally read the last sentences of the book “Gone,” murmured Valentine; “adieu, my sweet Haidee—adieu, my sister!”

“Who can say whether we shall ever see them again?” said Morrel with tearful eyes.

“Darling,” replied Valentine, “has not the count just told us that all human wisdom is summed up in two words?—’Wait and hope.’”

Miguel smiled at her last words and looked at her “well that was quite the story” Y/N looked up and smiled at him. “I agree” Y/N put away the book in a bag and then smiled as she walked quickly towards Felipe, gently petting the horse and feeding him some apples that she had stored in her bag. She gestured for Miguel to come. He gulped as he looked at the horse, he didn’t want to frighten him with his beastly appearance, but the reassurance that y/n gave him was enough. He slowly approached Felipe and tried to put his hand on the horse, but Felipe nickered. The noise startled Miguel as he slightly flinched. Y/N chuckled a little and helped Miguel approach Felipe again, she wondered how he was just so sweet and kind despite his angry facade. When Miguel finally placed his hand against the horse his ears perked up and he looked up at Y/N with a toothy grin. She chuckled as she looked at him dearly, she enjoyed that his curiosity was emerging and his uncertainties as well. She handed him some bird feed and showed him how to feed birds in a quiet manner as well. Miguel looked at her as he was able to pet Felipe and successfully feed some birds. He thought how her glances were just so adorable, how she would always place a hand on him without any fear. He wanted to ignore all of these little things she did, but he simply couldn’t get over her. Her body was so petite against his, it just made his mind wander to farther places. However, his thoughts were interrupted when he realized he had birds perched all over his upper body and feeding the seeds from his hands. Y/N on the other hand was watching silently from behind a tree as she had to make terms with herself that she was finding Miguel’s true personality quite attractive. She always knew as a child that the man that she falls for would be for who he is, but she never expected this to be in THIS way. Y/N looked back quickly at Miguel and chuckled at all the birds on him, but her playfulness got to her as she started a snowball fight with him. The two in the snow played around, throwing snowballs at each other relentlessly, some bigger some smaller, and Miguel using his size as an advantage to make a giant snowball to throw at Y/N.

After a long day of just playing in the snow, the two came inside to sit by the fire to start reading yet another book. Peeking outside the room where the fireplace was located. Miles, Gwen, Lyla, Peter, Mayday, and Jess were looking at the two of them.

“Y’know…I think they like each other” “Y’know what miles, I think you’re right.”

“Shush you two do you want us to get caught.” Peter chuckled “alright Jess, just let them have their moment.”

Mayday looked up confused and babbled “whaddaya mean they like each other” Peter laughs alongside with Lyla who tells her “We’ll tell you when you’re older.”

__________________________________________

However, in the village…

Ben was having a meeting with a man in the middle of the night in his cabin. Eddie was there as well but simply sighed as he knew that this plan was horrid

“Yo usualmente no salgo del Psiquiátrico en la madrugada, but I was told this is worth my time..”

Ben smiled wickedly and placed on the table a large bag of gold coins. The man looked at the money and smiled as he picked up a coin “i’m listening”

Ben smiled “so the plan is that I am dead set on marrying Y/N, but I’m starting to believe that she needs a bit of persuasion per say..” Eddie rolls his eyes and mutters “more like being flat out rejected” Ben sneered at Eddie, and quickly used his look to silence him.

“Everyone knows that her father is a loon, he was in the tavern I believe 3-4 months ago raving over some beast in a castle?!” The man sighed “Mauricio is harmless though, he hasn’t done anything to harm the villagers to put him IN the asylum.”

Ben smacked the table “Listen, the point is that Y/N would do ANYTHING and I mean ANYTHING to keep Mauricio out of the asylum” Eddie mumbled again “might marry him too” The man thinks “So you want me to throw her father into el psiquiátrico, a menos que ella se ponga de acuerdo de casarse contigo. Oh that is just despicable…” The man chuckled as he looked at the bag of money and he starts laughing menacingly “I LOVE IT”

__________________________________________

Back in the castle as the days slowly got warmer

Miguel was sitting down in his budding rose garden, the sights of spring finally peeking through the icy cold. He sat down and hummed as he enjoyed the book he was reading, flipping through the pages, enjoying each time the story escalated. Y/N sees him from a distance and approaches him at the rose garden. “What are you reading?” Miguel surprised closed his book as he cheekily responded “oh, nothing” Y/N smiled and chuckled as she sat beside him “Guinevere and Lancelot” Miguel corrected her “Actually, King Arthur and the Round Table, lots of blood, men, sword fighting and stuff.” Y/N hummed “It's still a romance” Miguel groans “Esta bien, you win” Y/n smiled and laughed a bit. Miguel smiled and looked at her with adoration in his eyes “I never thanked you, for not leaving me to be eaten by the wolves” Y/N laughed again. In the distance laughter was heard from the staff as they all chatted and teased little mayday.

“Well, it seems that they know how to have a good time” Miguel rolls his eyes “and yet every time I walk in the room laughter just dies.” Y/N smiles at the similarity that they share and lays her head on Miguel’s shoulder, shocking the man to his core as his ears flattened in embarrassment. “I get it, the villagers would say I'm a funny girl” she moves her head away to look at him “I don’t think they meant it in a nice way” Miguel’s face drooped at her words “I'm sorry you had to experience that…Your village sounds horrid, terrible people there” Y/N chuckled as she agreed with him. Miguel looked into her eyes as he could see the sun glinting against the lovely shade that adorned her face. Without hesitating he didn’t realize what he said

“Estás haciendo que todo parezca tan bonito en mis ojos... crees que algún día podria bailar contigo?”

Y/N softly smiled as she took his hand and held his, feeling the warmth radiate from his palms.

“Of course, Miguel...”

taglist:

@cupcakeinat0r , @miguelhugger2099, @mcmiracles,@xxsugarbonesxx,@codenameredkrystalmatrix,@deputy-videogamer,@lxverrings,@miguelzslvtz,@itsameclinicaldepression,,@ricekrisbris,@loser-alert , @thedevax, @uncle-eggy, @m4dyy, @freehentai, @synamonthy, @razertail18, @s0lm1n,

@badbishsblog, @faimmm,@keendreamnight, @texanadmirer,@stargirrls, @itzsab,@delectableworm

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #miguel atsv

324 notes · View notes

elenawritesxx · 1 month

Note

Hi! how are you? I discovered your profile recently and saw that you said that you needed a few followers to reach 200! Congratulations you deserve it! ❤️ Obviously I already started following you.

I saw your requests are open and well, I don't know if you like it, but I need soft things in my life lol, so I was thinking about district4!reader (I mean, not a game winner) taking care of finnick when is sick or when he feels insecure (you know, because of that whole capitol thing), he deserves to be cared for and loved 🫶🏻

HEALING HEARTS

PAIRING - finnick odair x district4!reader

SUMMARY - you tend finnick back to the health

WC - 800

EXTRA - mentions of cold, fever, and the sickness, mentions of the capitols ways with finnick, but fluff all the way

NOTES - hi angel, thanks for the follow i really really appreciate it:)) i hope this is what you were looking for, enjoy!

PS. - english isn’t my first language so if you see any grammar or spelling mistakes please don’t hesitate to point it out:))

—

the cold, dreary days of district 4 often cast a somber shadow over its residents, but none felt it more deeply than finnick odair. the once dazzling victor now bore the weight of his past like a heavy cloak, his radiant smile dimmed by the ghosts that haunted him. vut amidst the darkness, there was a glimmer of light, warmth and love in the form of you, his companion and confidante.

it was on one such bleak day that finnick found himself bedridden, a fever raging through his body like a tempest. you entered his modest home, a home that was gifted to him by the capitol, armed with bundles of blankets and vials of herbal remedies, ready to tend to him with unwavering care and devotion.

"finnick," you murmured softly, your voice a soothing melody in the silence of the room. "i'm here. let me take care of you."

as finnick lay in bed, his brow furrowed with discomfort, you wasted no time in springing into action. with gentle hands and a heart full of compassion, you set about tending to him with unwavering care.

first, you gathered an assortment of blankets, and with gentle hands, you layered them over his trembling form to ward off the chill that had settled in his bones. you tucked the blankets around him snugly, ensuring he was cocooned in warmth and comfort. finnick's eyes fluttered open, weary and vulnerable, but there was a flicker of gratitude in their depths—a silent acknowledgment of the solace you brought him in his darkest hours.

next, you brewed a pot of steaming hot tea, selecting herbs known for their soothing properties to help alleviate his symptoms. the fragrant aroma of the tea filled the room, wrapping around him like a comforting embrace, easing the tension that had settled in his shoulders.

with a soft smile, you pressed a warm cup of tea into finnick's hands, urging him to take small sips as you sat by his side, offering words of comfort and reassurance. you watched as he drank, the steam rising from the cup in gentle wisps, the warmth seeping into his tired body.

as the tea worked its magic, soothing finnick's aches and pains, you turned your attention to nourishing his body. you prepared a simple yet hearty meal, selecting ingredients with care and attention to ensure they would be both nutritious and delicious.

you chopped vegetables with practiced precision, the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board a soothing melody in the quiet of the room. the savory aroma of the food filled the air, mingling with the comforting scent of the tea, and finnick's appetite stirred at the tantalizing scent.

with a soft smile, you plated the meal and set it before finnick, encouraging him to eat slowly and savor each bite. you watched as he ate, the weariness in his eyes gradually giving way to a glimmer of vitality as he savored the nourishing meal.

but it wasn't just the physical care you provided that comforted finnick—it was the warmth of your presence, the softness of your touch, the unwavering devotion in your eyes. you stayed by his side throughout the long hours of the day and into the night, offering solace and support in the face of his illness.

as the days passed, you remained faithfully by finnick's side, administering medicine and comfort in equal measure. you read to him, sang him lullabies, and held him close when the nightmares came, a steady anchor amidst the turbulent sea of his memories.

but it wasn't just physical ailments that plagued finnick; it was the lingering scars of his past, etched deep into his soul by the capitol's cruel hands. he often spoke of his struggles, his fears, and his insecurities, laying bare his fragile heart for you to mend.

"you deserve so much better," he whispered one night, his voice raw with emotion. "you shouldn't have to waste your love on someone like me."

but you shook your head, your eyes brimming with unwavering determination. "finnick, you are worthy of love," you insisted, your words a steadfast declaration of truth. "you are strong, and brave, and resilient. and you deserve to be cared for and cherished, just as much as anyone else."

and in that moment, finnick saw himself reflected in your eyes—the man he could be, not the broken shell of who he once was. he saw hope, and light, and love, shining bright amidst the darkness that threatened to consume him.

as finnick's fever broke and his strength returned, so too did his spirit, rekindled by the warmth of your love. and though the scars of his past would always linger, for in your arms, he found solace, and in your heart, he found home.

#fanfic #x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair fluff #finnick x you #finnick odair fanfic #hunger games finnick #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair #thg finnick #finnick imagine #finnick fanfic #finnick x y/n

185 notes · View notes

decayedgloria · 8 months

Text

a bouquet for your troubles

ft. Freminet

Freminet collects a trove of treasures every time he dives, but Romaritime flowers are new.

Tags: Freminet x gn!reader, fluff, no spoilers

Word Count: 777 words (yes like actually), not proofread

“You know what’s really amazing?” Your soft voice echoed through the empty shop, making Freminet turn his head towards you, uttering a soft ‘Hm?’

“Romaritime flowers. Y’know, I never see them but the pictures always look so pretty.” Stocking the last items of the shelf, you carefully hop down the makeshift stool you were using to reach the top shelf, placing a hand on your hip and admiring your work. “Whew, that should be the last of it on my end. Do you still need help, Freminet?”

The blond only lowered his head, almost as if he were thinking, before responding to you quietly. “Uh, no. I’m fine. Is that all you needed me to do?” Rather nervously, he began making his way closer to you, but not too close- if he were a few feet closer, maybe you’d catch the growing blush on his face. Not that it would matter, as you jovially skipped towards anyways.

“That’s all for today. Thank you so much for the help, Freminet. I really appreciate it!” You clasped his hands gently, smiling brightly at him. Freminet thanked the Archons that your eyes were shut in doing so, because it felt as if his face turned into a hot spring at that point.

“I-It’s no problem…” He stuttered, becoming shy as you beamed at him. He couldn’t help but notice how pretty your face was, especially with how softly the early morning rays hit your face, making you akin to something divine in his eyes.

“Well, if it doesn’t bother you, will you come and help me with my shop again sometime? I have a feeling it won’t be the last time I’ll have to do this all over again.” Despite your laughter, sheepishness was still present in your voice- and who was Freminet to deny you? Of all he’d met so far, Freminet felt comfortable around you; you were the first not to ask him about his sibling’s magic, but instead his diving. You made him your friend the second you met him, with no ulterior motives at all.

So was it really a question that he always said yes to you?

A few days later, you operated your shop as usual- humming behind the counter and entertaining customers every so often. Focusing on sweeping the floor, you barely noticed the bell of your shop’s door chime, accompanied by heavy footsteps entering the shop.

So you were a little startled when Freminet placed a bag on your counter a little too hard, making you jump in surprise. The bashful boy muttered an apology upon seeing your face, violet eyes lowering to the floor in embarrassment.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He shrunk into himself, preparing for you to scold him. But that never came, and instead you only grinned at how adorable he was.

“It’s okay. I suppose I should be more aware of my surroundings.” You chuckled. Taking a closer look at Freminet, you could tell that he just came back from one of his diving expeditions- his gear was still partially on, and you could smell the salty ocean scent coming from the bag. “How was diving today? Find anything new?”

Freminet finally glanced at you, albeit shyly, and opened the bag- revealing beautiful, glowing flowers. The blue and pink hues shined brightly in his hands, which were now extended to you. You gasped, realizing what exactly he had in his hands.

“These… are for you. I’m sorry it took me so long to get them.” He mumbled, almost inaudible as he held the Romaritime flowers in his hands. Excitedly, you took them, examining them with a careful eye and gentle hands. You were so immersed in them that you hadn’t noticed Freminet’s face go beet red from your fingertips brushing against his palm, awkwardly standing there while his heart pounded against his chest.

“Oh my archons, thank you so much! I have the perfect vase for these.” In your enthusiasm, you leaned over the counter and placed a chaste kiss on Freminet’s cheek, causing him to freeze. Though you didn’t pay any mind as you procured a vase from the back of your shop, leaving behind a stunned and overheating Freminet by his lonesome.

It was… foreign. Your lips were extremely soft, and even if it was for a second, the area you kissed still burned with warmth. His thoughts were scrambled as he came to terms with what just happened, and how he felt about it. When he asked Lynette about it later, he came to a similar conclusion:

He’d just have to give you more flowers so you could give him more kisses.

this was a palate cleanser bc i have the most devious, filthy, sinful smut for wriosthesly and disheartening, depressing, downright atrocious angst for neuvillette coming up hehehehe 😈

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #freminet #genshin freminet #freminet x reader #gn reader

771 notes · View notes

evansbby · 1 year

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 (𝐏𝐎𝐘𝐓 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dark Steve, heavy misogyny, a/b/o dynamics, stalking, smut, daddy!kink, swearing, 18+, minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You walk into the lecture hall and Steve doesn’t know how to act.

𝐀/𝐍: Well, it’s finally here! This is a prequel of my fic Preying on You Tonight, completely in the point of view of everyone’s favourite toxic king, Steve! This is around 11k words. Please enjoy!

The first time Steve sees you, it’s like he suddenly can’t breathe. And the funniest thing is, he doesn’t even see you at first – he senses you, as ridiculous as that sounds. He’s just sitting there in the middle of the lecture hall, prodding the back of Bucky’s head as his friend lays slumped over on his desk, looking comically hungover – dark eyebags, rumpled clothes, red eyes – the works.

And then Steve feels this strange sensation, this prickling feeling at the back of his neck that makes his heart beat faster too. Almost like he’s nervous or anxious – which is stupid because Steve is never nervous or anxious. Even during the biggest football games of the season, with hordes of people in the crowd and even NFL recruiters watching, Steve still doesn’t break a sweat.

So, why does it suddenly feel like all the air’s been forced out of his lungs?

And then it hits him. It’s only the tiniest hint of the most incredible scent that he’s ever smelled, but it hits him like a fucking freight train. He remembers being really young, and his mother would grow magnolias in her garden. He remembers being almost obsessed with the smell, and inexplicably being drawn to the garden countless times before temptation finally gave in and he plucked a handful of the delicate flower, smelling it greedily.

His mother had just laughed – she never got angry at him. And Steve still remembers how he’d clutched the flowers tightly in his little fist all throughout lunch; because now that he had them, he could never let them go. And they smelled so intoxicatingly good – creamy and sweet, like vanilla with swirls of lemon. They smelled like spring, and Steve always liked spring. He’d kept the flowers by his bedside table (in his drawer, so his dad wouldn’t see).

But soon enough, the flowers had wilted – and that had made Steve mad. “What’s it gonna take to keep them alive?!” He’d demanded his mother, probably only about five years old yet angry at the world and angry at his flowers for dying on him. And his mother had patted his head, and soothed him with kisses.

“Love, Stevie. It takes love to keep them alive. Love, and patience and nurturing.”

And Steve remembers looking at his mother, then looking down at his poor, dead magnolias… A beat passing before he’d promptly thrown them to the ground and stomped all over them. If they were weak enough to just die like that, then he had no use for them. No matter how good they smelled.

But now, in the lecture hall on the first day of his senior year of college, Steve smells those magnolias again. Creamy and seductive yet reminding him of innocence, and youth, and memories of spring and new life. Just the right level of sweet, tickling his nostrils pleasantly, before he takes the deepest whiff of his life, like he just can’t get enough of the addicting smell.

And then he sees you.

Half-hidden by the most outrageously large hoodie he’s ever seen, with your books clutched to your chest and the shyest little smile on your face, you tentatively enter the lecture hall and Steve feels like his heart has stopped.

But… why?

He’s not blind – he can see you’re pretty. Very pretty. Softly pretty, is how Steve would describe it if he had to. All shy and hesitant as you make your way into the gigantic lecture hall, like a little butterfly in a jungle. He sees how you smile around, but you don’t seem to know anyone because you take a seat in the front row all by yourself, looking all intimidated and scared and excited and nervous, all rolled into one. And it creates the most attractive combination and he can’t stop staring at you.

You’re an omega, you have to be, judging by your demeanour and your scent – although the intoxicating smell seems to be fading away slowly as the minutes go by. And Steve wonders what exactly you’re doing here. There are barely any girls in this class – and absolutely no omegas. In Steve’s opinion, a World Politics class is no place for an omega to be hanging around – especially one as weak and delicate-looking as you. Maybe you’re lost, because you don’t look like you belong here at all, not in this lecture, and not in this university either – or any other university for that matter.

Steve firmly believes that omegas like you should be at home – cooking or cleaning or waiting patiently on all fours to be fucked by alphas like himself. And that thought – as out of the blue as it was – immediately has his cock thickening in his slacks.

But you stick out like a sore thumb, with your patchy little book bag that looks like it’s been DIY-ed out of a pair of old jeans, and your little sneakers that are still scuffed even though he can tell you’ve tried to scrub them clean and polish them and make them look new. You’re not from here, you’re not like the people he’s grown up with. He’s never seen you before – who the hell are you?

And why do you smell so good?

“Well, well, well – fresh meat.” Bucky is suddenly no longer hungover, eyes alert as he follows Steve’s gaze and locks in on you.

Tiny, little you in the front row of the lecture hall, unpacking all your textbooks and already starting with your notes despite the fact that the lecture hasn’t even begun yet. What could you possibly be writing down? The damn date?

And Steve feels an inexplicable wave of irritation because it’s not just Bucky who’s staring at you. He can see Thor, Andy, Ransom and Curtis, amongst others, lean forward with sick interest gleaming in their eyes at the sight of a little omega like you in their midst.

“She’s gorgeous.” Bucky whistles lowly, nudging Sam, who is also staring at you appreciatively. And it makes Steve want to gouge both their fucking eyes out. And he’s trying to keep his cool but it’s hard to do that when his breath seems to hitch every time he looks at you, and it’s confusing the fuck out of him because you’re just some random omega. And never before has an omega got a reaction like this out of him before.

“She’s probably lost.” Sam snorts, “I wonder if she’s an omega.”

Steve blinks, “She is. Can’t you smell her?”

The two alphas shake their heads before Bucky leans forward on the table to get a better look at you, “She’s probably on suppressants, but she looks like an omega. All shy and weak and shit.” He licks his lips, “That’s really fucking hot, if you ask me.”

Nobody fucking asked you! Steve wants to sneer but he manages to control himself.

“I call dibs.” Bucky announces, sitting up straight and baring his teeth like some sort of comical predator, and never in his life has Steve felt more irritation than how he does right now. Actually, irritation is an understatement – if Bucky wasn’t his best friend since childhood, he’d definitely have punched him in the face or at least verbally insulted him enough to knock him down a few pegs.

Suddenly, Steve’s happy that you’re wearing that ridiculously large hoodie because at least your body’s shielded from all the less-than-innocent gazes that seem to be drinking you in from all angles. And how fucking dare they look at you? When Steve saw you first? Smelled you first??

She’s way below my league, Steve has to remind himself. He’s Steve Rogers, star alpha quarterback and captain of the football team. From one of the most distinguished families in New York, with a future in both the NFL and politics, both with his own talent and his father’s connections.

And then there’s you. With your clothes that clearly look like they’re hand-me-downs, and your scuffed trainers and the fact that you’re probably a nobody scholarship student fresh out of some trashy, no-good neighbourhood. Nope, Steve knows he’s leagues above you, and he knows that the lucky omega he ends up with will be from an esteemed and traditional family. And that’s definitely not you.

So then why does his heart skip a fucking beat when he sees you smile softly at the professor who has just entered the room? And why does he want to rip the professor’s heart out and feed it to him for daring to smile back at you? Dumb fucking asshole professor… Steve could have him fired in a heartbeat. How dare he look at you, how dare Bucky look at you, how dare anyone look at you–

“She’s fucking the professor.”

“Huh?” Bucky stops dead in the middle of explaining his elaborate plan to seduce the class’s newest omega. “What did you say?”

Steve runs his hand through his hair and shoots his friend a smug smile, “I recognise her now. I saw her earlier today when I went to the professor’s office. He had her bent over his desk – and I’m sure it wasn’t the first time.” The lies roll off his tongue smooth as butter, and he feels not a pang of remorse as he watches the dreamy look on Bucky’s face morph into one of disgust.

“Yeah, she’s just a trashy bimbo omega from some small hick town,” Steve continues, relishing the gullible looks of immediate disdain on both Bucky and Sam’s faces. And he knows word will spread fast – it always does around here. “And I’m pretty sure I heard a rumour about a girl sleeping with the dean to gain admission – that was definitely about her too.”

Sam scoffs, “So she’s probably a stupid no-brain slut. As if this place wasn’t going downhill already, now they’re taking in hick-town omegas too.”

Steve narrows his eyes at Bucky, who is still staring longingly at you.

“Hey, Buck. Speaking of slutty omegas – Natasha was asking about you the other day.”

The brunette tears his gaze away from you, “She was?”

Lying comes quite easily to Steve. “Yeah, Sharon mentioned it. Maybe you should give her a call, I know Nat’s an easy slut but at least she doesn’t fuck professors and deans to get herself through college, right?”

Manipulating his friends is almost as easy as lying, and Steve smirks as Bucky finally nods and gets his phone out. And Steve leans back, letting out a sigh of relief because he knows word travels fast, and soon none of these half-wit alphas would be giving you a second glance. And maybe a small part of him knows that spreading this rumour is unfair on you, but in a way, he’s doing you a favour. He’s just protecting you, isn’t he? From all the unwanted attention?

***

Bucky: Heads up, your girlfriend is about to walk in through the front door.

Steve stares at the text for a few seconds, mild irritation brewing inside him. But he feels no real sense of panic or urgency as he glances down at the girl on her knees in front of him – Priya or Ria or something, he can’t remember. Not that it matters anyways. He tugs on her hair, smirking as she protests with her mouth full of his cock.

“Hurry up. My girlfriend’s on her way over.” He informs Priya/Ria, who starts sputtering and trying to push herself off him but Steve keeps her head in place, lazily thrusting in and out of her mouth as he quickly texts Bucky back.

Steve: Stall her for a few minutes.

Bucky replies with a thumbs up and Steve tosses his phone aside, trying to focus on what’s right in front of him. And in this case, it’s a scantily clad girl whose head is currently bobbing up and down on his dick. Steve sighs, clutching her hair harder and increasing the pace of his thrusts, wanting to cum quickly and get rid of her straight after.

He’d already fucked her half an hour ago before taking a smoke break during which she’d unfortunately stuck around. And there’s a part of Steve that doesn’t even care, that wants Sharon to walk in on him getting blown by some random bitch. And it isn’t the first time he’s cheated on her either. The way Steve sees it, why stick to one girl when you could have every single one? And he’s confident that there isn’t a single girl at this university who wouldn’t spread her legs for him.

And then his thoughts fall on you. Fragile, innocent little omega who is now forever labelled as the campus slut. But would you spread your legs for him? Steve bets you’re inexperienced, judging by how shy and studious you look, but that doesn’t mean he can’t get you to sleep with him. Fuck, he can’t help but imagine you on your knees in front of him, eyes wide as saucers and tears dripping down your cheeks as he fucks your face. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He cums embarrassingly quickly, images of you pouting and crying as he shoves his big dick down your throat flashing before his eyes. And God, he knows he can do better than you, better than some lowlife scholarship omega with scuffed trainers and a dumbly peculiar taste in oversized hoodies. Yet he can’t understand why just the singular thought of you blowing him had him cumming faster than Sharon or any of the other girls ever could.

He doesn’t really have time to mull over any of this, however, shoving Priya/Ria off his dick and tossing her clothes at her while she sputters on the floor.

“Get dressed, Sharon’s downstairs.” Steve tucks his dick back into his sweats before grabbing his phone and settling down on his bed.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, why didn’t you tell me she was coming over today? You know she’s head cheerleader this year? If she sees me here, she’ll kick me off the squad!” Priya/Ria laments but Steve is already bored, finding a random Tetris game on his phone more interesting than whatever this bitch is spewing as he lets out a yawn.

Priya/Ria complains and panics for the next three minutes, and Steve doesn’t spare her a second glance as she grumbles her way out the window. Annoying slut. Speaking of which, Sharon bursts into his room not three seconds after Priya/Ria leaves.

“Baby!” Sharon squeals, launching herself at him at top speed, and Steve holds onto her waist gingerly, letting her cover his face in kisses. “I missed you so much!”

She’d been skiing in Vermont with her family for the past two weeks, and it had been a damn good two weeks for Steve. Quiet and peaceful without his girlfriend’s dumb chatter acting as an incessant background noise to his thoughts. In fact, he wouldn’t have minded if she’d extended her trip and stayed away for another two weeks, because hooking up with other girls sure was a lot easier when she was gone.

“I thought about you every night, babe. I really wish you’d come with me!” She gushes, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulders as she straddles his hips. God. Now he has to make conversation with her and pretend he’s interested in her dumb bullshit family life. How has he been keeping up this act for two years now? I mean sure, Sharon’s a good fuck but she’s not that good.

“I told you, it’s football season.” He yawns, hoping she’ll get the hint and fuck off. Or she could stay, he didn’t really care as long as she kept quiet. But Sharon does the complete opposite, instead launching into a whole account about how he should have been there and how good the snow was and how many new outfits she bought and how many pictures she took and blah blah blah. Honestly, all her mindless chatter does is consolidate the fact that he needs to break up with her soon.

“And I would’ve come up to you sooner but Bucky kept talking to me.” Sharon wrinkles her nose, absentmindedly tracing shapes on his chest before laying her head down on it and snuggling up into him. “I think he has a crush on me.”

Steve snorts at that, “Bucky does not have a crush on you.”

She whips her head up, “What makes you so sure?”

Because me and Bucky have the exact same taste in girls and it’s not you, Steve wants to say but he manages to refrain. “He likes quiet girls,” Steve finds himself saying instead except he’s talking more about himself now, “Shy girls who know their place.”

Sharon rolls her eyes, “All you alphas are stuck in the past, aren’t you?” She sighs before bumping her nose against his, “It’s a good thing I lucked out with you, babe. Can you imagine where we’d be if you hadn’t asked me out sophomore year?”

I’d probably be free, Steve thinks to himself. In many ways, he’d been a different person two years ago when he’d asked Sharon out for the first time. He’d always been traditional, wanting to settle down with the right omega after he graduated, definitely have a few children. And even if he had thought Sharon would be his long-term girlfriend-turned wife by the end of college – he certainly didn’t think that anymore.

Nope, Sharon wouldn’t be the one he’d be marrying, she was useful for a good fuck now and again but nothing more than that, not wife material. She definitely wouldn’t be the omega who would eventually carry his children and his legacy.

And then for some unexplained reason, Steve’s mind shifts to you. How shy you were in class, how you kept to yourself with your eyes downcast. He may have falsely labelled you as the campus slut but he was sure you were a virgin, or extremely inexperienced at the very least. And then an image flashes through his mind: you, all knocked up and round with his baby. In a pretty dress of his choosing, cooking him dinner with an obedient smile on your face. Fuck. He feels his cock harden almost immediately.

“Ooh, you missed me, didn’t you?” Sharon sits back up and grinds down on his crotch with a mischievous smile on her face. “I can’t believe you went without sex for two whole weeks. It must’ve been torture for you.”

“You can’t even imagine.” Steve says distractedly. Sharon’s pulling his sweats down and undressing herself but he’s still got his mind on you. God, you’d look so sexy if he got you pregnant. He wouldn’t allow you to wear your stupid hoodies anymore. No, it would be all skirts and dresses – how an omega is supposed to dress. And then he’d bend you over and fuck you real good, like you’ve never been fucked before. Or maybe he’d let you ride him, all pregnant and weepy and shy on top of him, your eyes shining like you worship him…

He's painfully hard now, and Sharon’s jerking him off while he pretends it’s you. You, all innocent and unsure of what you’re doing. Looking up at him and begging him to tell you how to do it, how to please your alpha. You’re a stupid, no-good scholarship omega who is clearly below his league, but in this moment all Steve can think about it how goddamn fucking sexy you’d look holding his cock, or sucking it – or sitting on it.

“Mm, keep going, baby.” Steve murmurs, pretending like you’re in front of him right now instead of his insufferable girlfriend. “Make daddy feel good.”

He’s so deep into his daydream that he doesn’t even notice that Sharon is fully undressed until he feels her line the tip of his dick against her leaking hole. He manages to swat her off just in time, reaching out to rummage through his nightstand drawer and tossing a condom at her.

Sharon’s face falls before she scoffs, “You know, I wouldn’t mind if you didn’t use protection. You never used to.”

“Just put it on.” Steve isn’t in the mood for her bullshit. If he fucked her raw, then she’d most likely get pregnant. Then he’d have to marry her and take care of her – which wouldn’t be ideal, especially since he’s now planning on breaking up with her. But he’s happy he’s trained Sharon well enough to know when he’s not fucking around. Without another word, she unrolls the condom onto his dick before sinking down on it, moaning like a fucking porn-star as she does it.

He flips her over so she’s on her hands and knees and he doesn’t have to look at her. This way, it’s easier to imagine that it’s you. And Steve’s now accepted the fact that if he wants to get off, he’s going to have to think of you. Fuck, he bets you’d cry if he ever fucked you. Either cry or pass out from how good he’d make you feel. He bets you’d beg him to knot you, to give you his babies. And he would. Fuck.

Sharon lets out a moan and a string of curse words along with his name, and Steve has to forcibly shove her face into the pillow to zone her out. Because all he really wants to do is picture you. Fuck, he wishes he could cum inside you, hear you squeak and moan while he completely ruins you for any other man. Except there wouldn’t be any other man because you belong to Steve.

Mine, he thinks with gritted teeth, picturing your nervous little smile when you’d entered the lecture hall that morning, all mine.

***

“A little birdie told me that that little omega is only a freshman.” Bucky says, perking Steve’s interest immediately as they walk into their World Politics lecture a few days later. “Which means she’s either really fucking smart to be taking a senior class, or she fucked her way up.”

“She definitely fucked her way into the class,” Steve finds himself saying, “Omegas aren’t smart, so there’s no way she’d have gotten into the class otherwise.” He feels a wave of irritation, however. A freshman. In a senior class. And an omega, no less. There was no way, no fucking way.

And there you are again, sitting front row with all your pens lined out in front of you like some stupid, eager omega. His nose twitches, trying to sniff your addictive scent but it seems that whatever cheap suppressant you’re taking is extra strong today, because he can’t detect it at all. And this irritates him even more, because, embarrassing as it was, he’d been looking forward to spending the lecture smelling your goddamn fucking scent.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Bucky pipes up when they cross by your table, and you look up immediately. And Steve can feel his heart in his fucking throat because you make direct eye contact with him and not Bucky. The brunette seems unperturbed, however, “I’m Bucky. This is Sam, and this is Steve.”

You look up and nod at each of them. “Hi, Bucky. Hi, Sam. Hello, Steve.”

For a moment, it feels like Steve’s in heaven. And it’s the fucking cheesiest thing in the world, but it’s in the way you say his name. All soft and shy and clearly self-conscious yet in an extremely cute way. Fuck, what was he, fifteen years old? He doesn’t care, though, he wants to hear you say his name again. And preferably not whilst also saying his friends’ names in the same sentence.

And it irritates him that Bucky spoke to you first. Steve had seen you first therefore it only made sense that he should’ve spoken to you first too. It also irritates him how close Bucky and Sam are standing to you, and how you’re shooting them a small smile right this instant.

Steve is silently seething, and Bucky and Sam are grinning at you like you’re some kind of spectacle. You tell them your name (and his heart skips a beat when he hears it, because it fits you perfectly and he feels like he’s known this name all his life).

And then, no one speaks for a while, and he sees you shift slightly, clearly uncomfortable as you bite your lip. For a second, he wishes he could read your mind, but it doesn’t matter because you have the world’s most emotive face. He can practically see your thoughts as they race through your head. He knows that you’re intimidated by him, by all three of them – but that’s nothing new. And then you open your mouth to speak.

“H-How are you guys finding this class so far?” You ask in a voice sweet as honey. And Steve hates how other alphas around the room have whipped their heads towards you again. He hates how Sam’s features have softened as he looks you over, and he hates how Bucky’s got that predatory look in his eye again, the same one he had last time. He knows he has to do something. Fast.

“Funny, we were going to ask you the same thing.” Steve says, and you blink up at him.

“Me? I, uh, I really like it.” You say shyly, and he can tell that you have trouble maintaining eye contact with him but you try your best as you continue, “Some of the concepts are challenging, but I’m really enjoying it.”

“Oh, I bet you’re really enjoying it.” Steve grins, pointedly glancing at the professor before fixing his gaze back on you, innuendo dripping from his tone. Bucky catches on and chuckles, as does Sam.

You look confused, “Um, I don’t understand–”

Sam snorts, “Don’t play dumb.”

“Is it the class you’re enjoying, sweetheart, or what happens after it?” Bucky joins in.

You shake your head, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

And sure, there’s a voice at the back of Steve’s head telling him to quit it and back off. That sensible voice that shows its face from time to time, telling him that you don’t deserve this at all. But he chooses to ignore it, and maybe it’s because he’s been irritated ever since he found out you’re a fucking freshman omega in a senior class where you don’t belong. Or since Bucky spoke to you first before Steve could, and he could see that interest in Bucky’s eyes. Either way, he ignores the voice of rationality in his head. He’s Steve fucking Rogers, after all. He can say whatever he wants to.

“Wearing grossly oversized outfits to hide your body won’t hide the fact that you’re a slut.” Steve says it softly, but everyone hears it. And he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the way your head whips up to look at him, the way your lower lip quivers and the way your breath hitches.

“Wh-What? I’m not a… a–”

“A slut? Come on. Everyone knows you spread your legs to get into this class. That’s probably why you sit in the front row, too. So the professor can get a good eyeful of the campus slut before you got to his office after class.” Steve smirks, although it isn’t very satisfying to see your face crumple at his words, and he feels a pang of guilt that he tries his hardest to ignore. You shake your head.

“No! I didn’t–”

“Omegas like you don’t belong in a class like this,” Sam pipes up, and you bow your head. Steve can see your hands trembling under the table as you clasp them in your lap. And God, you look so small, so weak in your big fucking hoodie that nearly swallows you whole. You look like you’re begging for an alpha like him to protect you. But what’s he supposed to protect you from – himself?

He watches you for the rest of the class. You sit there, determinedly taking notes as if three alphas didn’t just embarrass and insult you at the start of the lecture. You don’t ever raise your hand to answer any questions, but Steve can tell that you know all the answers. It’s the way you mouth them cutely, the way you nod when the correct answer is said – as if you knew it all along. It’s the way your nose scrunches in concentration as you read every word of the lecture slides before writing it all down. In a way, he admires your persistence and devotion to your goddamned notes. Omegas are known to be devoted – but to their alphas, not World fucking Politics lectures.

You still look morose and deflated by the time the lecture ends, taking ages to slowly pack your book bag. Sam and Bucky leave, but Steve hangs back. Talk to her! The voice in his head urges him. Tell her you mistook her for someone else, tell her you didn’t mean it! Ask her out! And he lets himself imagine it for a second, asking you out on a date. Picking you up and presenting you with yellow roses, taking you to a restaurant that’s way too fancy for you, and you’d probably be wearing that goddamn hoodie, too.

He almost smiles, before shaking the thought away. I’m not that pathetic, he thinks. Some random scholarship omega isn’t worth taking on a date. There’s a peculiar longing within him but he stuffs it deeper down inside himself. Girls long for him, not the other way around and it’s best if he remembers that.

That doesn’t stop him from following you out of the lecture hall, however. It’s cute, the way you lug your bookbag on your shoulder. You’ve stocked it so full of unnecessary textbooks that it’s weighing you down like a tonne of rocks. His hands itch to help you, but he has to hang back because you don’t know he’s there, and also because you’re now on the phone.

He can’t hear what you’re saying, or who you’re on the phone with. But after a few minutes, your shoulders prop up and the pep in your step returns. Whoever is on the other end of the line – probably a friend or your mom – has managed to cheer you up. He gets close enough to hear you say:

“Yes. I’m going to try harder to make friends. Don’t you worry about me!”

It’s sickening. How cute you sound. And it’s even more sickening how he finds himself following you all the way back to your dorm room, keeping his head low and a small distance between the two of you. And sure, he’s never fucking stalked a girl before and this is definitely unhinged behaviour, but it’s like he can’t help it.

And it’s kind of fun observing you. At one point, you stop in front of a rose bush to smell the delicate flowers. Steve thinks back to how he’d imagined asking you out and giving you a bouquet of yellow roses. He lets himself imagine some more: you bringing the bouquet up to your nose and inhaling gently, a pretty smile on your face as you stand up on your tiptoes to kiss him and tell him thank you.

The picture sits pretty in his mind for a good ten seconds, a smile touching his lips before he aggressively wipes it off. Stop being a sappy fucking loser, he tells himself, before refocusing on his omega. You’re making your way into your dorm building now – it’s one of the cheaper ones on campus. The dorms in there are about the size of postage stamps, and it makes him think of everything he could provide for you: money, clothes, gifts – anything you asked for.

Ask her out! The voice inside his head is beguiling. If he asked you out, he would no longer have to deal with Sharon. If he asked you out, Bucky and the rest of them would all back the fuck up. So then what was stopping him? What was stopping him from marching straight into your stupid tiny fucking dorm room and telling you that he’d pick you up tomorrow at 7 for dinner?

She’s below my fucking league, he reminds himself, although that excuse seems to be getting flimsier and flimsier. He’s distracted from his inner turmoil, however, when he sees you appear in your room through your window. You neatly place your bag on your desk before pulling your hoodie over your head. Steve’s breath catches in his throat, and he watches closely as your tank top is next, joining your hoodie on the floor.

Steve’s lost count of how many girls he’s seen naked in his lifetime, but none of them hold a candle to what he’s seeing right now. The way you slip your leggings down, stepping out of them, now just in your bra and panties. Fuck, you’re so sexy. So fucking sexy, and he can feel himself getting rock hard. And half of him wants to reprimand you, chastise you for being so fucking stupid to be changing without drawing your curtains first. He should take you over his fucking knee for that…

But the other half of him just stands there, transfixed. You wriggle into a tee, your legs still bare and your cute ass on display for a few more seconds before you put on a pair of pyjama shorts. It’s when you sit down on your desk which is facing the window, that he finally backs off. Forcibly ripping his gaze away from you and walking away, the vision of you ingrained deeply in his head.

That night, in the privacy of his shower, he cums harder than he ever has before. Just the sight of you changing replaying over and over again in his brain. Nobody has ever had such an effect on him before, and he wonders what this means. Even after he’s jacked off, he can’t seem to shake you out of his mind. It’s like his eyes are itching to just see you again, drink you in again.

Finally, from the depths of one of his drawers, Steve pulls out an old sketchbook that his mother had bought for him on one of his birthdays. She was the only one who knew that he could draw, and she kept encouraging him to do it despite the fact that Steve hadn’t touched an art supply for years now. But it’s like his fingers are itching to put the images in his head down on paper.

And once he starts drawing, it’s like he can’t stop. It comes so naturally to him, like he’s known your face for years and committed it to his memory. He draws you sitting front row during the lecture, trying his hardest to capture that look of concentration on your face, the furrow of your brow, the way you bite your lip. He even draws you in your ridiculously oversized hoodie, how it practically swallows you whole. And he finds himself smiling at how cute you look in it – despite the fact that omegas aren’t supposed to wear things like that.

One thing becomes abundantly clear to Steve that night. He wants you. He wants to own you. He doesn’t want you to belong to anybody else, not now and not ever. But aren’t you out of his league? So then what? Just fuck her once and get her out of your system, he tries to tell himself. But would that be enough? Girls have always been easy subjects for Steve, but for the first time in his life, he finds himself confused, and his thoughts seem to be at war with each other.

It's only been a week since he first laid eyes on you but it’s like he can’t get you out of his head. He wants you to be his, yet at the same time he can’t believe that he’s fallen for some random scholarship omega. Fallen? No, he hasn’t fallen for you. It’s just lust. Just lust. Just. Lust.

It has to be, right?

***

The next World Politics lecture falls on a Friday – and it’s been three whole days since Steve has last seen you. Three torturously long days filled with Sharon’s irritating squawking and incessant presence in his room. Steve finds that she no longer makes him hard, and every time he fucks her, he finds himself longing for you in her place. You wouldn’t howl so annoyingly when you came, or scratch at his back like a stupid bitch. Actually, he wouldn’t mind if you scratched his back while he fucked you dumb into the mattress, your eyes glazed over and tears running down your cheeks as he knots inside you again and again.

And that’s what Steve’s daydreaming about before the start of the lecture, when he feels a light tap on his shoulder.

“Ex-Excuse me?”

He turns around and his heart skips a beat. You. In a huge green hoodie, almost eye level to him despite the fact that he’s sitting down and you’re standing up. Fuck, you look really cute, all shy as you shift your weight from one foot to the other. And Steve isn’t used to girls coming up to him. He knows he’s very intimidating, as are Bucky and Sam, who have now also turned to gawk at the little omega standing in front of the three of them.

Steve doesn’t know what to do, because up until a second ago he was in the middle of imagining you naked underneath him while he fucked you so hard you saw stars. And now here you are, standing before him with a Tupperware container in your hands, looking uncomfortable and shy as ever.

“Look who it is, Little Miss Campus Slut.” Sam is the first to speak.

Steve watches you blink and take a deep breath before you speak. “H-Hello, Steve. Sam. Bucky.” You nod at each of them, and Steve doesn’t think he’ll ever get over the sound of you saying his name – he just wishes he wasn’t lumped in with his friends every time.

“I th-think we – uh – I think we all got off on the wrong foot last time,” Your voice shakes as you speak, and Steve finds your stutter kind of cute. “I kn-know you guys were probably joking but, I – uh…” You swallow, and Steve has to admire your guts. He can tell you’re practically shitting yourself with how nervous you look. You shake your head and smile softly, “I made these. For you. I mean, all three of you. As a kind of peace offering.”

You open the Tupperware container and hold it out towards him. Inside, there are about a dozen brownies, cut into neat little squares. The smell alone is heavenly, and he can see that some of them have pieces of caramel oozing out. From his peripheral, he can see Bucky lick his lips.

“I baked them this morning,” You say proudly, “A friend of mine told me that there’s nothing a batch of brownies can’t solve. So, these are for you, and maybe now we could be friends?”

Sweet, naïve, innocent. God, you’re everything Steve wants in a girl. And for a second, he lets his thoughts run wild again. This time, he imagines you baking brownies for him – solely him – in a big house he’s bought for the two of you. You’re heavily pregnant and wearing a cherry print apron, and you sit on his lap while you serve him the freshly baked brownies. An alpha and his little omega, knocked up and completely devoted to him. A perfect family. The perfect life.

Which is why it makes little sense when he slaps his hand upwards, knocking the container out of your hand and sending the brownies flying everywhere, landing on the floor in a sorry heap by your feet. Sam and Bucky burst out laughing, and Steve smiles coolly, although he doesn’t really feel like smiling on the inside. Why did he do that?

Because she’s a stupid scholarship omega, and I can do whatever I want, he answers his own question but even he has to admit that his reasoning is less than satisfactory.

Your eyes widen in shock before your face crumples, “Wh-Why would you do that?”

Steve shrugs, “It’s not very nice of you to try and feed us your weird, contaminated brownies. I mean, we don’t know where your hands have been, do we? Oh wait, we do.” He looks pointedly at the professor at the front of the room before looking back at you, a smug smile on his face that he tries hard not to let falter when he sees the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

“I worked re-really hard on those.” You look like you’ve wilted, and there’s that one part deep inside him – maybe his soul? – telling him how fucked up he is for doing what he’s just done. But it’s just a joke, he justifies to himself.

“Don’t get all emotional just because we don’t want your STD brownies.” Steve says, trying hard to keep stone-faced as he watches you flinch and gasp at his words.

“I-I-I don’t have an STD!”

“I-I-I don’t care.” Steve mimics your stutter, making his voice all high-pitched. Sam and Bucky laugh again, along with a bunch of other people who are within earshot. And the look of hurt that crosses your face seems to ingrain itself in his brain, searing him from the inside out till he almost feels sick. Fuck. Why did he keep going?

Because she doesn’t matter, he tells himself. He’s made fun of billions of others in the past, and this shouldn’t be any different, right?

With your lower lip quivering, you swallow back your tears. And he’s surprised when he sees you narrow your eyes at him, “Th-That was really mean.”

And maybe it’s because you’re glaring at him and he doesn’t like that, or maybe it’s because you look so fucking small – standing there with your chin upturned and hands shaking in anger at being wronged. But Steve feels himself getting hard – rock hard. Part of him wants to gather your quivering body in his arms and kiss you and hug you and protect you from it all. But a larger part of him feels this strong need, this hunger, to control you. You look so small, so hurt, so submissive. He can see licks of anger through the tears in your eyes, however, and he wants to snuff it out. Control you completely. Make you bend to his will and listen to his every command.

“Y-You shouldn’t have done that.” You say quietly and Steve narrows his eyes.

“Shouldn’t have done what, omega?” He chews the word around, savours it before spitting it out, and he loves how your eyes widen at being called by your designation. He’s never called anyone by their designation before, and the surge of power he feels over you when he does? Fuck, it’s irreplaceable.

“Th-That’s not my name.” You try and stand your ground but really, it’s not like you’re any match for him. “Don’t call me that – p-please.”

“Why not? That’s what you are, after all. Your name doesn’t matter to me – whatever it is.” (He knows exactly what your name is, because he’s spent the past few days thinking about how great it would sound if you put his last name next to it, but that’s beside the point).

“And I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me what to do, omega.” He adds smoothly, noting how you bow your head in submission, but there are still angry tears glistening in your eyes and he can see your hands balled into fists by your sides, and you’re opening your mouth as if to argue with him. Snuff it out, he tells himself, snuff out any fight she has left in her.

“Don’t think you can talk back to an alpha. Just because you fucked your way into college doesn’t mean the rest of us are going to give you special treatment.” He says, every one of his words dripping in acid. And he wonders how far he can take it, how much further he can control you…

“Now, I want you to keep your mouth shut, walk back over to your seat and sit down and remain silent for the rest of the class.” He orders you before shooting you a smirk. “Now.”

He watches your eyes widen when you realise that it’s an alpha command, and then you’re walking away, head down and an empty Tupperware container in your hand. And the pure power trip Steve gets from it all has adrenaline and excitement pumping through his veins and straight down to his cock. Fuck. He’s never alpha-commanded an omega like this before. Sharon sometimes but it’s never been as gratifying as this.

It's in your stance, how weak and little you look as you walk dejectedly back to your seat. You’ve listened to him, and the power he gets from that is unbeatable. And addicting. He wants to feel it again. Sure, he’s always been domineering with girls but with you, it’s different. You’re different. So perfect and shy, so pretty and submissive… Fuck, he’s so hard now.

He leans back in his seat, staring at you while you get your books out with shaky hands. That’s when he notices that you’re crying, your hands keep reaching up to wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie and your shoulders quiver uncontrollably. Shit. Steve had made you cry, and his heart pangs with guilt. But it’s confusing, because there’s a dark part of him that’s so turned on right now, that wants to lick your tears up then embarrass you some more. Then you’d cry some more and he’d push you down to your knees, shove his cock in your mouth and really give you something to cry about.

But he also wants to gather you in his arms, hold you in his lap and comfort you. Tell you that he didn’t mean it, that he doesn’t know why he’s doing all this. Well, he does know why – but sometimes he isn’t convinced by his own rationale. Control you. Comfort you. Control you. Comfort you. Control you–

“Hey, these are pretty good.” Bucky’s voice knocks Steve out of his reverie, and he looks down to see his friend scooping up pieces of brownie off the ground.

Sam groans, “Please tell me you’re not eating the floor-brownies.”

“What? They’re good!” Bucky defends himself with a mouthful of the sweet treat. “Shit, you know what? I wouldn’t even mind getting an STD. I think she’s worth it. So fucking hot and she bakes too? I wonder what else she can do.”

Steve rolls his eyes, wanting nothing more than to punch Bucky in the skull for calling his omega hot. Because of course, Steve’s already consolidated in his mind that you’re his. He just has to figure out what exactly he wants from you. For now, however, he’s content with staring at you from afar, and imagining how pretty you’d look baking brownies for him and bending over while he made you cum on his knot over and over again.

***

“You know, I’d let you mark me if you wanted to.” Sharon says one day, out of nowhere. Steve’s walking her to one of her classes (or more like, she’d seen him walking with his friends and dragged him away).

Steve barks out a laugh, “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Why wouldn’t you? We’re both seniors, about to graduate and we’re in a serious, committed relationship.” Sharon squeezes his hand, and Steve feels a sudden urge to throw up. What a dumb fucking idiot Sharon was, as if he’d ever mark her. He’s still trying to figure out how to break up with her – he absolutely hates talking to her and he doesn’t even consider her a good fuck anymore. She’s lucky he’s kept her around for this long, yet has the audacity to talk about marking.

“You shouldn’t be thinking about things like that.” He says, hoping to drop the subject but of course, she doesn’t seem to want to let it go.

“Come on, babe. I remember back when we first started going out, you told me that you wanted to marry me and have a ton of kids! I remember thinking how cute you sounded when you said that.”

Steve doesn’t even have the energy to correct her. Sure, he’d said that he was a traditional alpha just like his father. He wanted to get married young and have kids young too. However, he’d never mentioned wanting all of this with Sharon, but of course the dumb bitch had selective hearing and liked to make stuff up, but that wasn’t Steve’s fault.

He lets her talk for the duration of their walk up to her lecture, and all he contributes is a disinterested grunt now and again. But Sharon loves the sound of her own voice, so she doesn’t seem to notice his lack of interest in conversing with her. Finally, outside her lecture hall, she stands up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. And it’s while he’s kissing his girlfriend that Steve feels a prickle in the back of his neck. Almost like he’s being watched.

He opens his eyes, looking straight ahead beyond Sharon’s shoulder. And there you are, sitting in the courtyard. You look like a fucking angel, bathing in the sunlight that peaks out at you through the branches of the tree you’re sat underneath. And you’ve got this almost curious look on your face as you watch him kiss his girlfriend. He makes eye contact with you for about five magical seconds before you realise that he’s watching you, all while his lips move against Sharon’s.

Quickly, you bury your nose in the book you’re reading, and he can see your eyes widening in alarm. Somehow, he knows your heart’s racing – because his is too. And he feels this longing for you, wishing so bad that it was you he was kissing instead of Sharon. But you’d been watching him! What did that mean? Maybe you liked him how he likes you?

I don’t like her! He tells himself stubbornly, she’s below my league… But he doesn’t know who he’s kidding with that excuse anymore.

Bidding Sharon goodbye, he can’t help but feel this gravitational pull, tugging him over to you. For a second, he imagines sitting down next to you, asking you what you’re reading and watching as you happily tell him. And he’d be interested in what you have to say, because you’re not a stupid bitch like Sharon or any of the other girls on campus. You’re special. And so beautiful.

He watches as you slowly lose yourself in whatever book you’re reading, and you’ve got a fucking juice-box next to you which you sip on every so often. God, could you be any cuter? You look so innocent, and for one dark second, he wishes he could just take you and lock you up in his house. You’d be safe over there, inside the house and away from any college like a good, traditional little omega. And he’d buy you a whole library full of books to keep you happy, and you’d cook and clean and dote on him and carry his babies, and that would make him happy.

Steve finds himself walking over, casting a shadow over your figure as he looms above you, and you look up at him fearfully. Fuck. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over the way you’re looking at him right now. Like you’re wary, scared – like he’s this formidable alpha that could completely ruin you – which is all true.

“Well, well, well. Look who it is.” He says softly, and you gulp.

“H-Hello, Steve.” You attempt a smile but you’re shaking like a leaf. And he’s surprised that you’re still greeting him nicely despite how horrible he was to you in the last lecture.

“What are you doing?” He asks, but it comes out sounding like a demand.

“Just reading.” You answer, and he can see that you’re trying to hide your shaking hands. The book rests open in your lap, and you look so sweet, sitting down by his feet. It makes him imagine nasty things, like wanting to pull you forward by your hair, make you mouth at his crotch in front of everyone in this courtyard, make you beg for his alpha cock before he shoves it down past your quivering lips.

Which is why it doesn’t make much sense when, in one fluid motion, he steps down hard on your juice-box, the liquid spurting out and splattering all over your top, and the open book too, immediately leaving large, blotchy stains on both.

“Oh no!” You lament, panic overtaking your features as you immediately begin to fan out the book, shaking it and trying to get the water out. But all Steve can focus on is your wet top – it’s oversized but it’s not a hoodie, at least – and the way it clings to your skin. You’re so fucking hot, and you don’t even realise it – you seem more preoccupied by the damn book.

“It was a library book!” You say quietly, tears forming in your eyes and Steve feels another pang of guilt because he’s made you cry again. “I can’t… I can’t afford…” Your voice trails off.

Steve smirks, “You can’t afford to replace the book, can you?” It consolidates every assumption he’d made about you. You come from nothing and you’re a no one, with your hand-me-down clothes and DIY bookbag. He truly could give you anything and everything you’d ever want, and he lets himself imagine it. Him buying you bags and bags of clothes, helping you put them on, dressing you up like his own little doll that smells sweet like magnolias and is devoted to him. He bets you’d be so thankful – you’re not used to any kind of riches after all – and you’d worship him in return.

And all of this gives him an idea. A way to exert even more control over you, and give you a bit in return too. Grabbing his wallet from his jacket pocket, he fishes out a hundred-dollar bill. You’re too busy trying to shake the liquid off your book that you don’t even notice it when he reaches forward and tucks the crisp note into the hemline of your top.

You gasp, “What’s… What’re you doing?”

“You know that report we have due next week, don’t you?” Steve muses, scanning your face carefully. He sees your throat bob as you swallow, hanging onto his every word as you hold the hundred-dollar bill between your fingers gingerly. “Why don’t you do mine for me, omega?”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, “Th-That’s dishonest! And I have my own report to do–” You try to hand him the money back but he bats your hand away. And he knows he could easily use an alpha-command on you and make you exactly what he asks of you, just like how he made you walk away in the lecture last time after the brownie incident.

But he craves true control over you, and maybe he can manipulate you? Mould your pretty little mind into wanting to please him? He knows you’re biologically wired to please him; your base omega desires want nothing more than to make an alpha proud – he knows that. He could play into that, use that. Manipulate you, and find out just how far he can take this sweet control over you.

“Come on, omega, I really think you should do my report.” Steve keeps his voice even, his eyes boring into yours with intensity, and you look like you’re about to melt under his gaze. “Otherwise, you’ll disappoint me. And you don’t want to disappoint me, do you?

Almost as if you’re hypnotised, you shake your head no. And Steve can’t believe how easy this is, and he wonders whether his scent smells good to you, and whether it has any effect on you. It must do… because you look like you’re about to turn into putty in his hands.

“B-But it’s cheating.” You whisper.

“That doesn’t matter. You’re going to do my report for me, and you’re going to put all your effort into it. Because at the end of the day, that’s the only thing an omega like you is good for. Pleasing an alpha. You want to please me, don’t you?”

He loves how he can practically read every single thought that crosses inside that pretty little head of yours. He loves the look of conflict on your face, how you’re trying to fight against your base desires. It makes him feel powerful, strong – how someone can have that much control over another human being, it thrills him.

Finally, you nod, and whisper a delicate “okay” that goes straight to Steve’s dick. You’re so beautiful and submissive, he can’t help but reach out to tap your cheek condescendingly. What a good girl, he wants to say, but that would be overdoing it. Instead, he just smirks and leaves, loving how you sit there, stunned and with the hundred still between your thumb and forefinger.

He goes home that day and jerks off thinking about you and all the power he exerted over you today. How easy it was to make you cry, then manipulate you into doing exactly what he wanted you to. He pumps his dick to the thought of how innocent you are, how sweet and pretty and how you’re everything he’s ever wanted in a girl – he just didn’t know it until now.

He also thinks about what you’re going to do with the money he gave you. Replacing the library book wouldn’t cost that much, and he hopes you spend the rest of the hundred on clothes or jewellery for yourself. That way, it would be like he bought something for you, he bought it for you and now you’re wearing it on your skin. Something he bought. Because you belong to Steve. And then he cums hard, slapping the bathroom wall so hard that one of the tiles chips.

Then, he cleans off and gets his sketchbook out. He draws you sitting under the tree with your little juice-box. He makes sure to make the drawing as detailed as possible, down to the top you were wearing and the way you looked so engrossed in your book. At the last second, he adds one more detail. A jagged mark on the side of your neck. His mark. Then he slams his sketchbook shut and buries it under his bed.

You give Steve his finished report only two days later, at the start of the next lecture. Quietly, you scurry up to him and wordlessly hold out the typed-up paper placed neatly in a binder. He snatches it from you, making sure to remain stone-faced except you don’t even make eye-contact with him – which is mildly irritating. But he guesses you’re too scared of him, and this proves to be true because you quickly walk back to your seat as soon as he takes the report from you.

Sam whistles lowly, “Out of everyone in this class, you made the slut omega do your paper?”

“Good luck redoing the whole thing, unless you want an F.” Bucky adds.

Steve opens the report to scan through it, and the hundred-dollar bill flutters out from where it was tucked in the first page. Huh. You’d returned the money. His heart can’t help but sink, because here he was trying to help you and you’d thrown it back in his face. Curiously, he watches you in your usual seat in the front row. You’re texting someone on your phone and he feels a wave of jealousy. Was there someone else taking care of you? A boyfriend?

He pushes that thought out of his mind as soon as it enters it. No. You’re too sweet, too pure to have a boyfriend. You’re a lonely little omega, and the only person who talks to you on campus is Steve. That’s how he’s painted you in his head and that’s what you are.

But now he wants to find out more about you. And it’s easy enough, going to the admin office and flirting with one of the secretaries. Easily noting down the password to the computer that had all the freshman student details on it, and when the giggling secretary excused herself to go to the bathroom, he quickly typed in your name.

And all your information pops up on the screen in front of him. Home address (some random, desolate hick-town, just as he suspected), your phone number (he quickly saves it on his phone) as well as your mother’s contact details. No father. Interesting. It meant you probably had some sort of daddy issues that Steve could undoubtedly take advantage of in the future.

Back in his own room, Steve stares at your number on his phone. He could easily call you right this instant, or text you. He could thank you for doing his report and offer to take you out. And then he’d show up at your doorstep with a bouquet of yellow roses, take you to the most expensive restaurant in town and then he’d drive up to a great spot he knows, where the two of you could stargaze and then he’d kiss you for the first time before taking you to the backseat of his car and making love to you, all soft and sweet – because you’re soft and sweet.

Steve has to forcibly push these sappy thoughts out of his head. He’s not a lovesick fifteen-year-old kid, for fucksakes! He’s an alpha, way above the league of some small, hick-town omega who comes from a broken home. It’s just lust, he reminds himself, lust and control. That’s all you want with her, Steve. Remember that.

Weeks go by where Steve doesn’t miss a chance when it comes to bullying you. It’s just an extremely easy thing to do, despite the fact that sometimes, it feels like he’s putting his heart through a shredder when he sees you bow your head and cry. Why can’t he just leave you alone? Why is he so goddamned obsessed with you?

He stares at you a lot, too. And sometimes, he finds you staring back at him before you quickly look away. She has a crush on me, too! He thinks to himself before shaking his head and trying to focus on something else. But he can’t. You’re everywhere. Even when he hooks up with other girls now, he picks ones out who have the same features as you. Same hair colour, same skin-tone. That way, it’s easier to pretend it’s you when he’s fucking them from behind.

But it’s not you. You’d be so much better. So much sweeter, so much more subservient. And Steve wants you so bad, it’s starting to become a physical need.

He, along with Bucky and Sam, sit in the row behind you on the day everyone gets their graded reports back. He does it so he can catch another whiff of your scent which he hasn’t smelled since the first day he saw you. But to no avail – your suppressants are too fucking strong and this irritates him no end.

Bucky and Sam spend the lecture poking fun at you, juvenile jokes which Steve doesn’t even find funny despite the fact that he’s the one who started the whole ‘campus slut’ movement in the first place.

But from his position behind you, he can see you type in your passcode to unlock your phone, and subconsciously he commits it to his memory. He wonders who you text and call, what friends you have. Ever since he looked you up on the computer system, he just wants to know every single thing about you. And he knows he’s acting like a fucking creep – sometimes he has the strong urge to just grab you and smell you, smell your hair and your neck and just bury his nose into you. It’s insane. No other girl has made him feel like this, but it’s like he can’t help it.

Steve gets an A+ on his report, and when he glances at you holding your own paper, he sees you got an A+ too. Which means you submitted two top tier research papers. A smart omega, he thinks to himself. And he hates that you’re smart. Well, he admires you for it but he hates that he admires it. Because you shouldn’t be here writing reports on world politics. No, you should be inside a kitchen. Or in his bed.

He watches you smile and clasp your hands together, clearly happy with your grade. And he hangs back again, waiting for Bucky and Sam to leave at the end of the lecture before he approaches you.

“Congratulations, omega. Did you let the professor put it up your ass so he’d give you the highest grade in class?” Steve asks nonchalantly.

But this time, you don’t even protest against his lie, or even look at him. No, you keep your gaze diverted, staring intensely at the floor before you scrunch your eyes up. Shit. You’re well and truly afraid of him – he can practically see you shaking. And is it possible to feel bad yet get hard at the same time? Steve doesn’t know anymore, he’s always hard when he’s in your presence.

He watches you scurry away, looking intimidated beyond belief. And as you leave, you accidentally brush up against him. Your whole body, brushing up against his front, and Steve feels like someone’s kicked him in the fucking balls because it winds him. His heart seems to skip several beats and he feels like he can’t breathe.

Your body had only made contact with his for a few seconds at most, but he can’t believe the effect it had on him. Your soft little body, like a boost of serotonin straight to his heart. And his cock. Fuck. You practically half-run out of the room in a bid to get away from him, and you have no fucking clue that you’ve left him reeling. He’s 6’6 and weighs about 240 pounds but an unassuming little omega has almost knocked him off his feet.

And this incenses him. It embarrasses him. It confuses him.

I need to fuck her; he thinks to himself. I need to feel her again. Claim her. Make her mine.

Maybe then I’ll get her out of my system once and for all.

A/N: And there we go! i know yall may be a bit disappointed since this does not advance the plot at all and nothing really happened but!! this is just meant to be an insight into Steve’s head!! i know a lot of you want to know what he was thinking so here you go!! I do want to note that he DOES come across as a fucking psycho askfsdajkfn but he’s a dark character what can i say??? He develops a lot from here tho! ANYWAYS, please leave feedback, i’d love to know what you think! I hope you enjoyed!! bye dhfsdnk

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #dark steve rogers #mcu #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans x reader

2K notes · View notes

dwindlinghaze · 10 months

Text

language of flowers

summary: the five times remus gave you flowers secretly and the one time you gave him not so secretly (plus extra)

contents: fluff, angst, bad writing bcs it's 1 am in ly country and i can't sleep.

a/n: my fav writing prompt so i just have to do it :) i hope u enjoy ☁️☁️☁️☁️

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

one

you walked with your arms linked with mary as you two made your way to enter the charms' classroom. it was quite sunny outside, seeing as the flowers in the meadows were blossoming prettily.

"don't you just love spring?" the girl sighed, gazing at the scenery outside the stoney windowsill miles below. "look how colourful those flowers are!"

"they sure do look unreal! like that poppy field in wizard of oz!" you replied, matching her energy.

"mhm but this one's not poisonous, i assure you!" she grinned before you two separate ways to your own assigned desks.

you made a bee line towards your table, furrowing your brows at the peculiar light pink object on your desk. you reached close enough to see that it was a carnation you had thought was a rose.

a single stem with pale pink petals. over it, sat a small folded parchment that was tied with similar coloured ribbon as the flower.

you opened it curiously, tilting your head to the side. it said:

I don't want to look at anything else now that I saw you. I don't want to think of anything else now that I thought of you. I've been sleeping so long in years of dark night and now I see daylight, I only see daylight

your heart fluttered at the messy scribbles in the palm of your hand. cheeks growing maroon as you try to hide your face behind nothing.

"watcha have there?" a blooming voice came from beside you, catching you off guard.

you jumped back a little, causing the person next to you laugh. "oh hey rem," you said in trembling words.

"hey," he replied to the greeting as he sat down beside your desk. "you've got a flower!" he smirked teasingly.

remus saw the severe blush in your cheeks, him applauding for himself inside. he was the one that gave them to you- the flower and the note. it was a giddy feeling to see how you react in such a happy way.

"someone left me a flower!" you grinned at him, showing your bright smile. "uh but i'm not sure if it's meant for me i- maybe they just put it in the wrong desk," you felt yourself deflated at the thought.

it was logical though. nobody ever seems to be interested in seeing you. let alone giving you a handwritten love letter with a carnation.

seeing the excitement fading off from you, remus spoke up abruptly, "i don't think it's in the wrong desk. this specific desk has always been your since first year. c'mon smile for me yeah? the flower is meant for you. and only for you."

you smiled at him, feeling your cheeks reddened again. a small part of you hoped that it was from remus. you liked him since god knows when but you never spoke of it. afraid of what might be as the outcome.

"thanks rem, you really know how to make people feel better," you said to him, eyes glimmered with adoration for the boy.

"what does the letter say?" he spoke softly, looking at you in curiosity.

you unfold the piece of parchment that was on your palm before reading the heartwarming words to him. "not gonna lie- i had a hard time reading it the first time," you chuckled.

remus laughed nervously, fingers gripping on his chair. he scribbled it messily on purpose in hopes of making you not know that he is the one writing it for you as for he knew you will recognise his usual handwriting in the back of you head.

you put the flower and the note inside your robe's pocket, making sure that no damage will be done.

you went to bed that night with the words repeating inside your head like a mantra. nobody has ever said such thing to you. with the carnation placed on your night table, you toss and turn in your bedsheets. hoping a certain boy who loves chocolate and books and sweaters and libraries and teas and blankets and-

two

saturday afternoons are the best time to spend in the library. nobody ever cares to even steal a glance at the large wooden doors- their minds are full of weekend spirits.

that's exactly why you went to the desolated place. reading one of your favourite muggle fiction beside the windowsill as the rain pattered on the glass, its sound calming your ears.

you finished your book in the quiet until you were completely done, getting up to get a new once since you really have nothing to do today.

mary was still sleeping. she dedicated saturdays as her 'stay in bed the whole day', therefore now you're alone. you weren't exactly close friends with lily and her friends though you talk to them once every while; your friendship was kept small.

your pointer finger ran through the spine of the books, stopping once you saw one that catches your interest. you head back to your secluded desk, only to find another flower on top of it.

your heart beat twice faster now, glancing around to see if anyone's there or not. you couldn't seem to spot anyone though.

the flower this time is not a carnation. it was a white tulip. a paper was also attached within the stem just like last time.

you read it, it was shorter than the last one:

you're a mansion with a view.

it took you an embarrassing amount of time to fully understand what it meant.

mansion with a view- beautiful inside and out.

if you had a mirror in hand right now, the reflection it shows will be you and your crimson red cheeks.

after reading that, you find it hard to avert your focus to the book in front of you. the words were like splutter of inks and has no meanings.

at last, you decided to go back to the common room, seeing what the others were doing. you bumped into someone on the way there. someone tall and smells nice and familiar. with the impact of the crash, the things inside his bag are now on the floor, scattering everywhere.

"oh i'm so sorry i wasn't looking!" you sent an apologetic glance at the person, only to find out that he's remus lupin.

"s'fine," the boy smiled, kneeling down to collect his things.

"here, let me help you," you said, picking up the ones that were more far away from him, now all of his belongings are in his bag again.

"hey, s'this yours?" he held up a small parchment.

"uh yeah," you chuckled. "funny. you remember when someone gave me a flower a few days ago? they gave me one again."

"you think it's funny?" remus furrowed his brows, secretly eager for your answer.

"well- no. it's just not typical for me to receive these stuff. i like them though. it's very sweet," you blushed.

remus adored the faint pinks in your cheeks. he was the reason for that- technically. he didn't know what to reply, afraid if he said something, his stealthiness will be exposed.

"i'm going to the common room, you comin'?" he spoke.

"yeah. i was going there too," you nodded and began walking with him to the gryffindor tower.

remus is a mansion with a view.

you felt bad for the person that wrote you the letter because you were thinking of someone else with those exact words that they wrote for you. you couldn't help but wonder who it is though. maybe by then you'd fall for them too with all the sweet compliments they give.

three

a pretty and small bundle of blue flowers was propped on your desk one morning, like it's waiting for you. a small note was also attached to it, like the usual.

your smile grew larger, trying to hide your blush with your hair as you strode to your table.

you can't lie- you've been looking forward to it. it's almost like the only thing that's been keeping you excited lately.

"ooh, you've still got a secret admirer huh?" mary snickered, pushing your side teasingly.

"mhm," you agreed mindlessly, smiling in a joking manner her way, not caring about how much you will be poked fun at.

"don't you wonder who it is?" she raised her brows.

"i do," you admitted. "if they confess to me in real life, i'm sure i will give it a try," you shrugged as you opened the small paper.

"read it aloud. i want to know how much of a hopeless romantic some people are," mary giggled.

"if all my flowers grew back as thorns, windows boarded up after the storm. i'd built a fire just to keep you warm..." you said slowly, comprehending the words.

"aw that's sweet although i've no idea what it means except the last line," mary said.

"oh shut it mary," you nudged her side, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

you hoped whoever this is, knows how much you appreciate them and should not be afraid to confess to you openly. you would be upset if this person didn't make the move because you feel like the person behind this is sweet and hopeful.

you've got a slender vase in your dorm filled with water half way up to put the flower in them to keep them alive as long as it can. these pretty blue forget-me-nots are a perfect addition to your collection.

"moony, when are you going to actually confess to her? are you going to wait until earth slipped off its axis and fell into jupiter?" sirius flopped down on remus' bed face first, groaning.

"what are you talking about. i already have," remus replied nonchalantly.

"no- pads meant like actually! not in some handwritten note that doesn't even have your name in it- let alone your initials!" james chimed in.

"that's the whole point y'know. so she doesn't find out," remus rolled his eyes.

"don't get sassy moony," sirius slapped his arm. "what if she found out that it was you all along?"

"she wouldn't."

"she would," james retorted.

"she wouldn't."

"she definitely is going to."

"no."

"your head is as thick as the hogwarts wall," sirius scoffed. "one way or another- she's going to find out about it- or at least try to."

"say, if she did find out it was you, will you two be like- i don't know- together?" james thought out loud.

"i doubt i can."

remus. remus lupin with his complicated head. he sends you flowers and love letter daily but he doesn't want to be with you? pathetic.

"why not? it's y/n we're talking about. she fancies you," james said.

"i don't know," remus said, burying himself under his blanket while also pushing sirius off of his mattress.

truth be told- it would be his biggest regret if he never spoke of his love. he would love to be loved by you or even just loving you.

somewhere in the haze, he has grown some strong feelings for you. he didn't know how it happened or when or maybe it had always been there since you two got paired up in care of magical creatures.

he grew fond of you. the little things that you do make him fall for you even more. the way he wants to be the highlight of your day, the moon in your twilight, the sunrise in your mornings. he wants it all.

he wants to know the feeling of being mutually in love. though he believed no one will ever love a monster like himself.

that part of him is slowly breaking his own heart. how could anyone ever be in love with a hybrid? how will anyone ever live with the curse of their beloved one?

even with all the reassurances in the world, he would never accept himself. it was a blessing for him to even have friends. he wondered if some miracle could be strong enough and kill the wolf inside him so he can love openly.

so he can love you without any doubt and afterthoughts.

four

monday sun rises, meaning classes are back to normal again. you were getting ready for the day, sitting on your vanity when a common barn owl dropped a stem of flower right at your lap.

a pretty pink hydrangea was there, a note slipped in between the delicate petals.

all these people think love's for show, but i would die for you in secret

your smile reached your eyes as you put the pink flower along with the other bundle of flowers from your admirer.

you were kind of in a funny situation. you wanted to always keep getting these flowers for as long as possible but you also wanted to know who this person is but also you wanted remus to give you these.

it's all silly, you know.

"rem! i got another flower!" you said giddily as you stood beside him for the first class. it was a very heart-fluffing thing to see for him. you look flushed and happy.

"yeah? this person must love you very much!" remus replied with a sly smile. it was quite a nice feeling; talking about his love for you in a third person.

"yeah..." you trailed off. a part of you had a small hope of remus being your secret admirer but he seemed to be so cool about it. he doesn't show any signs or hints. maybe he's just a good actor. "do you have any idea who might that be?"

"mmm, no," he shook his head, turning his focus on the professor ahead. "but this person better be so proud of themselves because they made you giddy. look at you! you look like a puppy in a park," he chuckled.

"oh shush," you kicked his feet softly.

you made a mental note to yourself to be cautious of your surroundings at all costs next time, especially when you're alone. you were curious to find out who the person behind this is.

many many thoughts swam through the head of yours. a certain person popping here and there too.

five

you walk with your head down.

it hasn't been a pleasant day. firstly, your shoes got stuck on the mud when you're on the way to attend care of magical creatures. secondly, you dropped your bowl of soup during lunch, ending up with you having to deal with the stickiness in your uniform skirt until class has ended because there's zero time in between each.

it wasn't a big thing really, but it was big enough to bother you for the rest of the day.

your daily flower hasn't been sent too.

that was a silly thing to think of.

you decided to have an evening stroll around the castle grounds, just to clear your head a bit. you haven't had nature walks in quite a long time.

what you didn't expect was to see a certain gryffindor boy, holding a book while scheming through the field of wild plants.

you couldn't quite catch what the book was, but you caught how calm he was. how stunning he looks under the warm orange sun.

remus looks so peaceful. like a painting. like he has no single worry in the world. (as he should)

he bent down, reaching for a pink flower. he held it with such tenderness, afraid it will be damaged.

you hid behind a tree, heart beating in anticipation.

you knew this was wrong. say if you were the one who's giving out flower to your crush secretly, you wouldn't want anyone to see.

thank god it was getting dark because now you were able to run back to the castle. breathless.

when you arrived at your dorm minutes later, you saw that same identical flower remus picked earlier on your bed.

it was a pink chrysanthemum. smells beautiful.

this one looked the prettiest compared to the rest somehow. maybe because you saw that beautiful sight of remus picking them fresh from the soil.

the note read;

i'm captivated by you, like a firework show. i see sparks fly whenever you smile.

every word now and then seemed to melt your heart a little more, knowing the person behind this.

six

it has been a few days since. the last class you were supposed to be having right now was dismissed, meaning the students have extra time before dinner.

you decided to go outside, to the field of wild plants.

you now felt somewhat guilty for dragging this- although you shouldn't really. it was remus' idea and whatever is the outcome, it will be on him but since you found out about it, you can't help but feel like you have to face remus.

tell him so he doesn't have to be a lover from afar. so he doesn't have to be hopeless and pining for god knows how long.

well, how bad can it be? you two have the same feelings to each other. nothing bad will happen right?

you don't know much about flowers but a red rose seems like the most common type of flower to give to your significant other.

you decided to pick them up, stupidly not realising that there were thorns on them.

"aah!" you hissed, dropping it on the ground. you looked at your finger, a red scratch painfully visible on your skin.

"are you okay? what happened? why are you bleeding?" a familiar voice appeared from behind you. "oh [y/n]..." remus frowned sympathetically as he grabbed your fingers. he grabbed it with such tenderness that it reminds you of how he hold that pink flower.

"m'fine, rem." you pulled your fingers but he was much stronger than you are.

remus took out his handkerchief from his pocket for him to wrap them around your scar in order to stop the bleeding. "what are you doing here?" he asked, gently caressing your hand.

"i-," you paused, taking a deep steady breath. "i wanted to give you a rose," you replied, unable to look at his face.

he dropped your hand, his mouth agape.

you can't be. there's no way....

he waited for your explanation. "i know i shouldn't but i saw you. three days ago, you were here. um, i wanted to give you a note with a flower too. uh- here," you put the folded parchment to his palms. cheeks red from embarrassment.

remus was afraid of what the note contained. it could be you rejecting his feeling or something else he couldn't quite make himself to believe.

he put the parchment inside his pocket, "let's go back."

and that was the last thing you heard from remus.

extra

it has been two days. two whole days of remus being afraid to open your note.

it was propped on his desk. untouched.

he didn't even know why he's being this complicated. of course james and sirius were right. you would find out sooner or later. you are not dumb. never.

so today, he man-ed up himself.

he reached for the parchment that was tied with a pale yellow ribbon, slowly unfolding it. he saw small doddles of yours around the edges and corners.

this sure is not a rejection letter.

he felt so ashamed. he must be putting you through a tough time right now and it's all because of his fear of being rejected.

don't you worry your pretty little mind. people throw rocks at things that shine. and life makes love looks hard. the stakes are high, the water's rough. but this love is ours.

that is the sweetest thing remus has ever read. he quickly got up from his bed. done sulking around and absolutely done with being scolded by james and sirius every hour of the day.

he will make it up to you. he will.

you on the other hand was sad, confused, and lonely at the same time. it's miserable and not magical.

you thought it would be good to give remus a rose? bad decision.

for god's sake, you didn't even know for sure that the flower he picked was for you! it could be for someone or something else. maybe that flower you received was from someone who is not remus.

maybe just the colour of the flower was the same as the one remus picked. that's it.

your thought were quickly interrupted when remus entered your space.

his eyes looked tired and hopeful at the same time. in front of him was a giant bouquet of different kinds of pink and white flowers.

"forgive me please?" he said slowly, stretching his arms forward.

"wh-"

"i'm sorry. sorry for not responding to you sooner. for keeping you in a difficult situation. i'm going to make it up, i promise."

"it's okay, you're here," you smiled at him, that sunken feeling went away.

"i am. these are for you, there's roses."

"rem- they're so pretty," you took it from him.

"like how you are-" he said, cringing at his own words. somehow when you're around, his brain seemed to lag.

you shook your head, laughing, "i love them."

"i was wondering; if you're free on saturday, would you want to go on like- a date? with... me?" he bounced his legs.

"at six?"

"yes."

"a date then."

#x reader #character x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader fluff #remus fluff

445 notes · View notes