#or looking at certain entries and thinking
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when abled people talk about employability + disability I don't think they entirely understand the domino effect of unemployment/underemployment that can happen in a disabled person's life
the kinds of jobs that are considered 'unskilled' or 'entry level' are inaccessible for various reasons (e.g. involve having to stand up for long periods of time)
the time in your life when many people are expected to start working these entry level jobs is while you're still in school. the sheer exhaustion of school means that even when those jobs aren't completely inaccessible, many disabled people simply do not have the energy to do them
without any work experience, it's very hard to get work. the kinds of jobs that tend to have more accessible workplaces are either not entry-level or require a certain level of education to enter them. also without having gone through a hiring process before, it's very hard to even know what to expect from a job, which only creates additional barriers
even if you do have work experience, being disabled is not really taken as a valid reason to have gaps in your resume, which means you immediately look like a suspicious/risky hire to a HR department
disabled people, once we do have jobs, are more likely to be underemployed than abled people, meaning that we have fewer opportunities to demonstrate our skills in the workplace, and are less likely to be able to accumulate a back catalogue of good references to take with us in the 'getting a new job' mission. this itself keeps us underemployed
NOT to mention the fact that the exact same process can happen with respect to education (the being in special ed -> being able to go to university pipeline is basically non-existent. and if it is there, it is very hard to navigate). I'm not sure yet another 'employable skills program' can get us out of this one, chief
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the night before nationals
a sneak peek from my wip titled i love you now, already, and not yet (established jackienat pre-crash au)
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"Nat," Jackie can't help how her tone softens, nickname floating off her tongue, "I love that you don't care what anybody thinks. And you're so completely yourself."
Unlike me, goes unspoken, but she knows Nat can read between the lines, sees it for the apology it is.
She watches Nat go melty and vulnerable in front of her, eyes shimmering in the light from the bonfire, (looking directly at her soul it seems) and barely refrains from wrapping her in her arms, settling for a blink-and-you-miss-it squeeze to her hand.
They end up pressed against a tree not too far into the woods. "I don't," Jackie groans between kisses, "want to go with Jeff."
Then don't, Nat's tempted to say, ducking to mouth at Jackie's neck only to scrape her teeth over where her lips just were, making Jackie shiver.
"Shauna'll be there, right? And you're getting dropped off first for curfew, you won't have to be alone with him," is what she says instead. Because this is how it goes. Because Nat's a sucker.
Jackie pulls away, bats her eyelashes with a pout still shiny from Nat's attentions, and asks, "Will you stop by after curfew?"
Nat sighs, leaning her forehead against Jackie's neck. Her head's beginning to throb, coming down from Kevyn's batch, and Jackie's skin is mercifully cool against it.
"It's gonna be pretty late..."
Jackie quirks an eyebrow, "11's too late for Natalie Scattorcio?"
"We have an early flight tomorrow."
“You have your car, I'll tell Shauna my dad wanted to drive me... I'll get you breakfast..." She tangles her fingers in the baby hairs at the nape of Nat's neck, a move that always makes her go boneless.
"Fine. But I get a breakfast sandwich with extra bacon."
Jackie does a happy little shimmy, leaning in to plant another quick kiss on her lips, before turning around and sashaying back to the party. Yeah, Nat's a sucker.
So she waits until about fifteen minutes after Jackie, Shauna, and Jeff all pile into Jeff's car and then she drives her piece of shit pickup to Jackie Taylor's house, making sure to park around the block (mostly because she knows parking in front of the house is a one way ticket to getting towed).
Then she scales the wall of Jackie's suburban townhouse to where Jackie has already left the window ajar. She's overheard Shauna complaining about watching Jeff fumbling his way out of Jackie's window before, so it's with a certain pride that she does this silently and gracefully.
Jackie's splayed out on her bed, already out of her dress and makeup, in an oversized t shirt and sleep shorts with a fluffy scrunchie holding her hair up in a messy bun. The Radiohead CD Nat lent her a week ago is playing. Nat pauses, taking a moment to just look at her, the version of Jackie Taylor almost no one gets to see, a version Jackie now gives her with no hesitation.
Then Jackie looks up and spies her and splits into a wide toothy grin that Nat can feel her face mimicking against her will. Jackie opens the window further, ducking out into the moonlight, "What's the password?"
"Oh shut up," Nat replies, kissing her. They stumble into the room, trying to keep their lips connected as Nat sheds her jacket and her combat boots. They finally break apart for air as Jackie's head hits the pillow, Nat straddling her. "Entry granted," Jackie murmurs with a dopey smile and Nat can't help the chuckle that escapes her— what a dork.
#jackienat#jackienat fic#my fic#yellowjackets#yellowjackets fic#i love you now already and not yet#jackie taylor#natalie scatorccio#writing#wip
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Warlord Yautja/Reader; An Act of Respect
Title: An Act of Respect Rating: Explicit Fandom: Predator: Killer of Killers Ship: Warlord Predator/Grendel King (Male Yautja) x AFAB!Reader Warnings: Canon typical violence, blood & injury, angst Author Note: This is part 03 of my Warlord series! The full fic is (as always) available on AO3! Summary: Time has twisted your rocky relationship with the Warlord into something very intimate, very strange; from prisoner to plaything to something that has no name. Your world has become a balancing act between reality and wishful thinking — until one bloody night turns everything upside down.
When travelling in a spaceship, there's no day or night. Time warps like a planet that meets an unfortunate end in a black hole; days become months, which become seconds, which become mere moments. If you listen closely, and if you're not working shifts in the belly of the ship or on the bridge, but instead are alone with emptiness and boredom, then you can hear yourself slowly but surely going mad.
You turn onto your side. Soft fur tickles your nose, and the scent of sleep and tired bodies surrounds you in this non-night, in these hours designated for rest.
At this point, you even miss the nights in the colony. Being on a planet gives you a certain rhythm that you miss so much in open space. Even a Weyland-Yutani barracks can feel like paradise when days are no longer days. A worn-out cot or even the floor can seem beautiful when you can feel day and night merging into one another. On the freighters, you worked according to Earth time or the time of the colony you had just left. It didn't matter, as long as it was something to cling to. Time is a spider's web that anchors you in reality. Without it, you're little more than space junk, drifting through the void.
Free fall in zero gravity. With a snort, you roll from one side to the other. You've been rolling back and forth for hours, like meat on a spit over a grill. No position is comfortable enough and no thought is pleasant enough to lull you to sleep. Everything is dull and has been overthought a thousand times before, every possibility weighed up dozens of times. Boredom has eaten its way into the folds of your brain like a woodworm, leaving behind a yawning void that can only be filled with discontent. Who would have thought that boredom could be so annoying?
No, seriously, you'd kill for a datapad with a book, or even just old archive entries on it! Though it's probably this mental wasteland that drives the Yautja to train and fight so intensely. They pass the time through training, bloodshed and the quest to become the best hunter. They have to keep themselves busy somehow.
Getting up and looking for something to do isn't an option either. You still share your bed with the Yautja who claimed you as his property about a year ago. Has it really been a year already? It feels more like a month. Or ten years. Time is strange; it often exists in two places at once, yet it's merely a vague framework to which simple beings such as humans and Yautja cling. The Warlord takes up most of the fur-covered bed; you have to snuggle up to him to lie reasonably comfortably. At first, this took some getting used to, but now it's everyday life. His body is an anchor and an obstacle, and it's dearly missed when he's out hunting again. When you sleep alone in this nest of trophies, the bed feels enormous and empty – a thought you never would have expected to have. It's so strange to long for the person who kidnapped you and is holding you captive. Is this perhaps the final form of Stockholm syndrome? Yearning for him when he's not here? Absent-mindedly, your hand strokes the arm beneath you, the one that is holding you in a semi-firm embrace. Gentle fingertips trace the scales on the thick, leathery skin up to the biceps, which feel hard and firm even when relaxed. It would probably be easier if the Warlord wasn't so attractive; unfortunately, however, there's no denying that you're physically attracted to him. Emotionally speaking, the whole thing is pretty neutral territory. Love is not something that really happens here on the Hkr'Rcho. The fighting and fleeing never stopped. Since you first lured him into a trap and took what you wanted, there have been several similar incidents. As with so many things before, it has become a game of hunter and hunted. Predator and prey. Whoever can force the other into a hopeless situation wins and to the victor go the spoils. He often has the upper hand, but you've also managed to leave him with a scar or two. Raw power is pitted against adaptability and speed: Yautja against human. Broken bones and open wounds are all part of the game, as are the sweet nectar of victory and the almost ridiculous satisfaction of winning. Every orgasm is a thousand times better when it's earned by blood.
It's crazy how much fun it is, as well as it's incredible how quickly you began to feel as a part of this ship, this clan. The boundaries between human and Yautja identity become increasingly blurred. Being part of the whole makes the loneliness less painful.
Your nails lightly scratch his thick skin and he sighs in his sleep. The Warlord himself is in a category of his own when it comes to contrasts and oddities. He's like the sour wine that the Yautja love to drink: it tastes strong and bitter, but it gets you oh so wonderfully drunk! He's the chain that binds you to this ship; yet he's also the hot metal that stokes your desire and creates something beyond logic and common sense. He pushes you to indulge in whatever lurks in your own shadow, and you love it.
He mumbles something in his sleep – or is that a growl? Hard to say. Then he moves slightly. You can vaguely make out a few words in Yautja beneath the deep rumbling of his chest, but even the best linguists would struggle to distinguish between mocking growls and clicks and an accented Yautja word. Is he dreaming? Are these warriors dreaming of successful hunts? Well, you are. You dream of the moment the great warrior falls into your increasingly creative traps, when he's all yours to play with. They are good dreams, hot dreams, full of lust and satisfaction.
Your gentle movements on his arm don't stop. He's somewhere between deep sleep and being slightly awake, exhausted from leading this clan and enjoying a well-deserved break. This semi-awake state of your jailer and lover brings you peace. The soft, human hand continues to gently caress the inside of his wrist, which is otherwise covered by the wrist gauntlet. Interestingly, the skin there is soft and sensitive, receptive to the tenderness that keeps the giant warrior in this twilight state. Even these monstrous and terrifying creatures have weak spots and vulnerabilities. The Warlord has few weaknesses and you know them all by now. And what an interesting discovery this one was: A tired Yautja is a tame Yautja. If you manage to wear one out, they seem to regress into the reptiles from which they probably descended. Their deadly claws and warm muscles then search for a source of warmth to cling to - a safe place to rest and restore their energy reserves through deep sleep.
Yautja sleep in short phases; they usually rest for no more than 3–4 hours at a time so that they can be fully active for around 30 hours. However, every few days - more or less a week on Earth - this short sleep rhythm is replaced by a long, deep sleep phase, which enables them to function with so little sleep in everyday life. This deep sleep lasts between 16 and 24 hours, during which their senses are duller than usual, making them vulnerable to attack. Therefore, they first look for a safe place to sleep. Only the stars know whether the Warlord feels safe with you, but it's probably also the case that he sleeps peacefully because you are physically inferior to him. Either way, the huge, warm body next to you gives you a completely new feeling of security: When you work on a freighter, there's no security, either from the W-Y company or your own crew. Short-distance freighters have motley crews, many of whom have dark pasts and even darker desires. You have to sleep with one eye open; otherwise, you could quickly find yourself with a knife in your back or a stranger in your bed.
It's different here on the Hkr'Rcho. Although this Yautja is the opposite of a guardian angel, nothing can happen to you while he's sleeping next to you. Your status as his favourite pet gives you immunity among the crew. You're absolutely safe when he's around - because you give him something that only you can give him. This secures your special status at his side: You're his toy and he's yours. You live and breathe together, sleep in harmony and fight like old friends, enemies and lovers. His rough manner is an unchangeable part of him, just as your bitterness is an unchangeable part of you. A tired Yautja is a tame Yautja, and a tame Yautja is a gentle Yautja. The growl in his chest has become a deep, vibrating purr as your fingers continue to gently stroke the skin on his wrist. It's a weak spot, exposed to you like a wound. He smells like sweat and something earthy, mixed with that sweet, irresistible undertone. You know what you want and you're going to get it. He moves and turns onto his side; chest muscles press against your back, and you make a satisfied sound somwhere in your upper body. Hard muscles, warm flesh. Wonderful. Your free hand pulls the Warlord's other arm around you, engulfing you in his firm embrace. And when you push your pelvis back towards him, a soft sound rumbles in his chest, breaking through the fog that still surrounds his mind. Yes, you're going to get what you want.
>>> Continue on AO3
#oneshot#predator killer of killers#grendel king#grendel king x reader#rated: e#warlord predator#warlord x reader#yautja
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a hum escapes her, followed by a string of mutterings in turkish explaining the choice of name is more given the boys absentee father and how strong he'll become besides that. it's a question that will continue to bother her - as will its answer - long beyond that night, but the reassurance that her decision will be the right one, regardless of what it is, seems to offer her a semblance of peace. another grumble escapes her at the prompting of water, pushing herself up onto one elbow to accept the glass with a small pout. "you're teasing me."
for a man who had seemed so hesitant in jumping into things previously, cade appears to be more than eager to support her in this. brows furrow as she hands the empty glass back to him. "he never had a dad." she admits, snuggling back into the bed with a yawn. "we found out i was pregnant and he left. that's part of the reason i wanted this all to work. would give someone not just right for me, but to him too, ya know? so you'd have to be sure. sure sure of everything. me 'n him. don't think i can handle being left again."
he stops at the entry, allowing her to move beyond him and into the room - to savor everything well before any of the rest of them. he takes in each subtle movement, each shift in expression, but when she turns to him with that radiant smile? he's shot through the heart and once more convinced that the program that matched them together had to have been right. because that look alone could have lit up a thousand suns and he would find a way to recreate it again, and again, and again if he would.
moving forward so the door could slide shut behind them - enclosing the pair within the space together, silas joins her in the grass. tablet set aside and mug placed beside him, he rests back on his palms, basking in the artificial sun with a small grin in her direction. "maybe for tonight and tomorrow, then we can share the wealth," he notes with a soft chuckle. "fairly certain half our companions will be nursing the worst hangovers to ever exist in space, while my twin-apparent and his partner are too busy being wrapped up in one another to notice anyone else." silas is quiet for a moment before glancing over at the tablet. "what else do you miss? i'm sure i could manage to give you the first-time experience rights before we open things up to the others."
a shoulder raises into a shrug. he'd never been one for dates. tried it once - years and years ago when he first liked a girl while he was still in school, but that had been the one and only occasion. after that, he'd had bed companions and nothing more. but if his sister were awake and learned he'd not taken his match out on a proper date, he'd likely have his ears boxed. "italian huh? can't go wrong with a good red sauce and bottle of wine," he agrees. he's an alright cook. nothing on what you might have found at a fancy place back on earth, but perhaps he can convince one of the others to cook for him.
a noise of inquiry escapes him at the statement - one that morphs into pure amusement when she calls herself heavy and claims he'll hurt himself. "sweetheart, you're a damn feather, trust me." as if to convince her of the statement, the man shifts - adjusting her against him so he can get his feet beneath himself before dragging her closer and truly cradling her frame as he pushes himself up and standing. "might've been good wine, but i think tomorrow you'll be singing a different tune. lets get you set at the med bay, then i'll put you to bed. you'll thank me for it in the morning."
"aslan? that his name? i like that.. but there aint a single part of either choice that'd make you a bad mother, whether you chose to wake him up or chose to let him sleep.. neither one makes you a bad anythin'. neither answer there is right or wrong, it's just which one you need more, that you think is right for him and if that's with you, then he'd understand that." he pauses, trying to make everything as comfortable for her as he could. "you gonna drink some water for me, lion mother?" he smirked, what a charming thing.
"for the record, i'd be more than willing to take on a little lion, reckon i'd be good at that, or at least i can hope i would." he made a gesture back out to the hallway. "jsut do you know though aiyla, 'aint nobody else that woke up that'd judge your choice either, n' it is just that, your choice. if you decide no, we can do a million things for him to have from you, video's, letters, all of it, and if you do, then we're making this a kid friendly place to grow up. how's that sound? either way, we make it work." then he caught himself. "i mean, if we- if we is something you eventually want, if not then i'm a good helpin' hand for you and i always will be." stay. as easy as that. "i 'aint going nowhere, i'm stayin' right here sweetheart."
eris hadn't smiled once since waking up, she'd barely cracked even the smallest hint of a smile.. and yet he opened that door and the smell hit her. earth, soil, dirt... home. it smelled like home again, not this clinically clean smell, not metallic just rich and dirty and god everything she needed. it was timid the way she'd stepped into the room with her cradled mug. it took a few moments for her to crouch down too, shifting the mug to one hand and as she sipped the hot chocolate, she let her fingers find the grass and mud, and just.. run through it. the smile, that beaming white smile came when she looked back up to him. he might not know it yet, but he should wear that achievement like a medal. she for a few moments, felt comfortable enough, happy enough.. to just smile.
"for all of us." she confirmed with a nod, but she'd moved to be able to sit, legs crossed on the grass and for once just looked... at ease. no heavily set frown on her brows now. "for all of us, but maybe for one night it could just be for us?" she spoke with a large inhale, slow and steady and just grateful to feel human again. eris didn't want to like him, she didn't want to believe that stupid match making system but... wasn't this the nicest thing anyone had done for her in such a long time?
"you're gonna take me on a date?" she sniffled and yet, there was a little smile hidden in there, a bit of her that actually found that idea so flattering, so sweet that.. he'd even try, to make that work in their situation but it helped, it gave her something else to think about. half of her mind focused on the hand trailing up and down her spine still, it was so soothing. she even liked the low hum of his chuckle, silly.. how easily she settled with him, how easy she found it to relax in his arms. she didn't imagine a few hours ago she'd ever be able to take comfort from anyone ever again and yet here she was, curled up in a closet, hiding... and perfectly content to be hiding with him. "i really like italian." she managed to joke back a little.
"you can't do that." she scrunched her brows in confusion, the tears however were slowly easing away, the shaking hands were just.. holding to him instead, not quivering. it was working. "i mean you can't lift me, i'm heavy, you'll hurt yourself and i dont want you to hurt yourself." she moved a hand just to use her sleeve to rub at her eyes, they'd be sore.. but it'd be fine in the end. "what if i stay up all night, then the hangover can't have me and- and the wine, it was nice wine." followed by a small hiccup, she'd definitely enjoyed some wine. "i'd be heavy to carry."
#v. space#elpida#elpida 025#chats ⸻ asher#chats ⸻ asher & eden#chats ⸻ aiyla#chats ⸻ aiyla & cade#chats ⸻ silas#chats ⸻ silas & eris
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Queued up some of my fics for Valentine's Day, so that's gonna be my participation in the holiday this year.
Posting starts at 9:00 AM US EST. Forewarning as the majority of it is OC stuff. All will be tagged with 'vday reblog'.
Happy Valentine's Day everyone from your local ace-spectrum otome lover! I'll be getting some discount chocolate after the festivities are over.
#krys talks#had a moment when I was going through my master list#thinking I had a pretty good grasp on writing romance so I would have plenty to reblog#turns it's not often I write romance for romance's sake#like make no mistake#I can write romance don't get me wrong#it's just usually wrapped up with something else#the romance is there! it really is there!#just sometimes I need to put something else around it to justify it#if that makes sense#I should write more romance for romance's sake#it made me have a crisis#like I can write romance! I can!#but not finding it my masterlist#or looking at certain entries and thinking#this has romantic elements but it's not the most major important thing in this story#I blame my ace-wired brain for this#*shakes brain*
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Oh no I’m burning out on binging the audiobooks I need to get through by July. It’s easy at work. Harder on weekends oh boy. Now I also don’t think it’s healthy to consume a 30 hour audiobook in a day due to the magic of 3x speed (don’t judge me) but we are on a SCHEDULE (self imposed) and I will NOT BE BEATEN. It was really easy last night when I was high laying on the carpet for 4 hours but now I want to play slay the spire and keep getting distracted
#I have so many thoughts about this series#it’s the first 4 sun eater books#I’m REALLY enjoying them because door stoppers do not scare me and I like a good build up#it’s not my favorite?#it’s lacking that extra push that puts it into ‘will buy physical copies’ ‘more than 1 book will get 5 stars from me’ territory#but the focus on linguistics and actually sticking to culture clashes and the archeology/science focus earns it SERIOUS points from me#I love Valka#I looked up her name and saw men on reddit don’t like her and it made me love her even more#my queen doesn’t need Hadrian she needs me#I will use my biology skills to help you in whatever anthropology research goals you have#I am subconsciously comparing it to red rising and I actually think this series may be better#in certain areas like representation ig#love red rising but the entire time reading it I was like ‘this is written by a man : )’#sun eater series has me forgetting that more#red rising just wrote what it was good at better I think which is why this series isn’t grabbing my brain as much#definitely a slow burn and I haven’t stopped having thoughts#my Year of Books journal is gonna get a LENGTHY entry for all 3 of the ones I’ve read so far lol#so I’m mad that I like red rising more but I still do ya know?#the prose in this is beautiful though I keep turning over his word choice in my head and thinking how I could improve my own lol
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i send my friend suggestions of tourist places to see in his new country (his contract was extended, lucky him!) or messages about friend of friends i have living there that he could maybe meet for fellow americans to talk to, and his response is always that he doesnt have time. and not in that exaggerated way that people do to seem busy. but in that bone tired way i recognize from him here in LA, that i recognize in myself.
#jrnlsht#i watch the lives of my friends who have Made It on social media and its like looking through glass into another world i cant relate to#theyre so happy and confident and successful and its beautiful#you know whats a funny thing about LA#so many people on the on*line da*ting apps put *successful* on their list of requirements in the people they want to date#like theres a bar of entry and if you haven't reached a certain goal post like... blue check marks on your social media or a level of wealt#then they arent even going to want to get to know you#and its so antithetical to how i was raised i cant even comprehend#and yet i see it happening to my own relationships#in pittsburgh i had friends from literally ALL walks of life from people who made even less money than me to comfortable to fairly wealthy#here my friends are almost entirely of one professional class#and i have been observing how my hyper wealthy friends self select in who they interact with to maintain this wealthy bubble around them#i dont think it's entirely intentional but its also not not intentional if you know what i mean#anyway its one of the reasons i fucking loved the talk on saturday oh my god those two were a breath of fresh air i needed so much#these smart genius dudes built their own life and instead of constantly looking up for more and more personal gain#they paused and looked at the people still desperately trying to rise#and were like if i have gotten this far why cant i help you do it too and then they DID IT they actually started helping#i think that is the true meaning of success
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getting toji’s name tattoed on u for his bday :3
a/n: do NOT GET ANYONES NAME TATTED ON U!!!! happy birthday toji!! this has been sitting in my drafts forever
"that doesn't look like a nail salon, doll."
toji's smart remark upon your entry of his car makes you glare at him. and to think you'd just done the most for this bastard, getting his name tattooed behind your left ear.
it sat in a pretty, cursive font, a delicate heart dotting the 'i' at the end of his name. your tattoo artist had taken their time on this one, and though they thought it was a bad idea...you did it anyway. and the results made you even happier.
you huff and turn slightly away from your husband, throwing your hair behind your shoulder so the brand-new ink was shown off. even through the shiny plastic wrap and tape, toji's eyes can spell out his name, signed right behind your ear. his name. on you. forever.
"holy shit," toji whispers, that stupid-handsome grin of his crawling onto his lips. his fingers come to poke at the tattoo before you have to swat his hand away.
"yeah, asshole," you spit, with a sly smile of your own while you look at toji.
he's never been good at communicating how he feels, but there's a certain sense of pride, and love that overcomes him when toji realizes that you're marked as his. and it goes no further than the simple fact of that. not like he owns you, but you're...just his. toji's wife.
toji leans in all too demandingly for a sloppy kiss, grabbing your entire jaw in his rough hand, and he can only think of more ways to make you his.
#BIRTHDAY SEX BIRTHDAY SEX#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader#toji fushiguro#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x reader#jujutsu kaisen toji#fushiguro toji#toji fluff
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Once Project Voltage's final song releases, itll be time to make a ranking!!!!!!!!!
#dee p thoughts#project voltage#tbh I kind of fell off it a bit towards the end its lack of theme-ing kind of made it...whatever?#not the best way to put it but there was not much to think about beyond ''Oh! There will be another Pokemon song!!!'' another thing lost#with the lack of typing theme- its neat when you look forward to creators but the last one I REALLY knew and was into was yuri kuriyama#(awoo is still a w such a w-) the releases broke the weekly format towards the end Id wonder if they wanted to get it over with but I think#it was intentional with how certain songs landed on particular dates so ay- Im looking forward to relistening and the nostalgia(?) of it al#relistened to wonderful opportunity's entry and I was only really familiar with their rpg parody songs I thought it was good when it came#out but I relistened with the subs on and it made me really emotional haha ahhhhhhh qwq <3 <3 <3
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Five days, Five bouquets

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader
Prompt: "Do I need to remind you that we're not actually married?"
Word Count: 1k
Warnings: talk of a fake marriage for the sake of a mission; fluffff
Author’s Note: This is written for the writing challenge of @elixirfromthestars ♡ I wasn’t planning on writing something so soon because I’ve still got a project going on right now, but your prompts and everything were just so alluring, I couldn’t help myself. I hope you enjoy this, my dearest. And I am almost entirely certain that this won’t be my only entry to your writing challenge, because I've got some more ideas lol. Here is a small continuation to this story: A Home for Now
Divider by @saradika-graphics ♡
Masterlist
“Again, Bucky?”
You don’t even try to mask your breathless laughter, the warmth of it slipping through as you rise from your seat.
The front door clicks shut behind Bucky and he scuffs off his boots half-heartedly on the door mat. There is a bouquet of flowers in his hand. And an even larger grin on his face.
The table before you is still cluttered with the remnants of your cover - documents, notes, a meticulously crafted facade of a life together.
A life that isn’t real, except for moments like these, when the borders become smudged just enough to make you wonder.
“‘Course, sweetheart,” he says, still smiling so wide, but his tone does not hold a trace of irony. “What kinda guy d’you think I am? Four days in a row and I just stop?” He scoffs as if the mere thought offends him. His voice is honeyed.
He stalks over to you standing at the table and holds the bouquet out for you. It is an understatedly beautiful arrangement of dusky pink roses, fluffy ruffled carnations, ivory lilies with petals curling slightly at the edges. Wisps of silvery foliage peek through, adding a breath of frost to the warmth. And then there are the deep inky leaves interwoven among the blooms, like something divine pulled from the shadows.
You take them with fingers that begin to tremble just slightly. His hand brushes over yours. A blush makes its way up your face just like every time.
You have been undercover for five days, posing as a married couple by orders from Nick Fury. And every day, even though it’s not at all necessary for you both to keep your cover, Bucky brings you a bouquet when he gets ‘home’ from his fake job.
He is embedded in a high-profile consulting firm, shadowing a suspect deeply tangled in covert operations, while you take a closer look at his wife. She’s not at all innocent. She manages high-stakes charity galas, the kind that funnel money into places they shouldn’t be. You play the devoted wife, hosting brunches, attending yoga classes she goes to, letting cautious friendships lead you to the information you need.
Five days. Five bouquets.
Each one different, but all of them hold some unspoken thing. Something that makes you shiver.
The choking in your throat is disguised with a roll of your eyes. “You do know we’re supposed to be laying low, right? Kinda hard when you’re single-handedly funding the local florist,” you tease rather lightly.
Bucky chuckles, low but bright, and you swear you feel the sound more than you hear it. “Oh c’mon, doll. Long as we’re playin’ house, I gotta keep my wife happy.”
This is a joke. It is all a joke. But your pulse is not laughing, only speeding up, tripping at the way he puts emphasis on wife. As if the word fits too well in his mouth, as if he could get used to it.
Bucky has always been a gentleman to you. Even outside of missions. But since you started this one, moving into the same house on the outskirts of town for the sake of your cover, the grumpiness and stoicism that usually surround his aura at the compound are completely lost here with you. You’ve never seen him smile as much as you have in the last five days.
You clutch the bouquet a little tighter, take a closer look, and take in the many appealing colors and scents. “Thank you, Bucky. I love those,” you say warmly.
His expression falters just a fraction like it does every time, not quite knowing what to do with genuine gratitude when it’s meant for him. Although you show it to him all the time. A flicker of something unguarded passes over his features before he covers it with a scoff that only makes it out halfway. He looks off to the side, shifting his weight. “Well, can’t have my wife thinkin’ I'm slipping already now, can I?” he laughs a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, the tips of his ears just the slightest bit of pink.
You turn with a huffed laugh and perform the task of putting away the flowers. Shaking your head, you start to get highly aware of the wedding band around your finger, a piece of fiction Tony gave you to wear. It looks so real, yet it is a lie. And you hate it.
“Do I need to remind you that we’re not actually married?” The words fall with amusement but they sit heavier in the air than they should.
The ring fits perfectly, Tony made sure of that. But it still somehow presses against your skin. As if to remind you that Bucky is not truly yours.
Bucky doesn’t miss a beat. You see him tilting his head from your peripherals as you reach for a vase. His smile is softened. “Don’t matter, sweetheart. Might as well treat you like my wife.” His voice is quieter now, less teasing. But sure.
The kitchen and living room are already brimming with the past four days of his affections.
One arrangement graces the coffee table, another stands by the window, and two more are carefully nestled between books on the shelf at the wall to your left. A home suffused with color, with life, with something neither of you dares to call by name.
You feel the warmth of his gaze on you. He doesn’t say anything, standing there relaxed, still with that proud and fond smile on his face, watching you as if he is engraving in his memory the way you fuss over where to place this latest offering.
And maybe you take just a little longer than necessary because if you turn too soon, you’ll have to meet his eyes.
And you don’t know if you can right now.
You’re not sure if you’d be able to look away.
But you know you should. Because this is not real.
But maybe - and this is the hope speaking - it could be someday.
“Imagine someone thinking of you and buying you flowers.”
- sleepyurl
#elixirscinema#writing challenge#bucky fic#elixirfromthestars ♡#bucky barnes x you#bucky fluff#bucky barnes fluff#bucky drabble#marvel bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader fluff#bucky barnes drabbles#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky fanfic#bucky marvel#bucky x reader#bucky x female yn#mcu bucky barnes#avenger!reader#avenger!bucky
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the alpha next door
pairing: alpha!steve rogers x omega!female reader
summary: you and your neighbor are harboring feelings for each other, but both of you think the other is too sweet. then, things take a turn when your first heat since moving in hits, revealing the depth of your feelings for the alpha next door—and his for you.
warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), omegaverse AU tropes (heats, knots, purring, mating, scenting), piv sex, breeding kink/pregnancy kink (reader's on birth control tho), accidental voyeurism, masturbation (m + f), dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, little bit of mommy kink, size kink, pet names (baby), mutual pining, idiots in love, dual pov
word count: 8.9k
a/n: here's my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420's Cum Together Extravaganza!!! i used the A/B/O AU and breeding kink prompts—and this is my very first omegaverse fic!!! so uhhh please be kind because i don't know what i'm doing 😅 also loosely inspired by "too sweet" by hozier!! anyway, this ended up a lot longer than i thought it would be....whoops!! hope y'all enjoy!!!
When you first moved into the little pink cottage next door, Steve Rogers decided that you were too sweet for an ex-soldier alpha like him. An omega like you was filled with sunshine and gentleness, and you deserved an alpha who would treat you like the precious thing you were.
The kindest thing Steve could do for you was stay away. The thoughts you inspired in his alpha hindbrain had him hating the rough and greedy animal side of himself. He wanted to dig his fingers into your plush hips and bend you over, make you present your pretty little body in the way the alpha in him craved.
But he reminded himself you were too sweet. Too sweet for the obscene thoughts that plagued his mind. Too sweet to be defiled by a big alpha like him. Too sweet to be swollen and round and glowing because you were carrying his child…
Still, you were his neighbor and Steve couldn’t avoid you entirely, even though everything he saw only reaffirmed his belief that you were too good for him.
The little pink cottage beside his house had come with a front garden filled with pink roses and all manner of other pink flowers that Steve couldn’t even begin to name, but you tended to them like you’d planted them yourself. Steve would get home from work, park his truck in his driveway—which had a perfect view of your front garden. He’d watch you from behind his tinted windows as you took care of your flowers, looking like a garden fairy come to life.
When Steve eventually grew uncomfortable with how long he’d been watching you, he would get out of his truck and call a gruff hello to you as he made his way inside. Your melodic voice returning his greeting would follow him into his house, where he’d close his door and lean against it, panting like he’d just escaped a warzone while his cock strained against his jeans. But Steve wouldn’t stoop to jerking himself off to the thought of you—at least not while you were just outside.
On weekends, Steve would work in his backyard, mowing the grass and tending to the shrubs that ran along the line separating his property from yours. When the weather was nice and pleasantly warm, you would sit out on your small back porch, curled up in a wicker chair reading some book or another.
Steve would offer to mow your lawn, just for an excuse to stay outside longer, and be a little bit closer to you. You’d let him, and thank him for his efforts by giving him some ice cold lemonade, smiling up at him while he drank it. Steve wasn’t the least bit surprised the lemonade was more sweet than tart.
As the weeks and months passed since you’d moved in, Steve couldn’t help but feel his desire for you growing, becoming a living thing curling around his heart, making it beat for you. You were the sweetest and prettiest omega he’d ever met, and he’d be lucky to be your alpha, but he kept his distance, certain you could do better than him.
That is, until your first heat after moving in next door changed everything.
That was when Steve learned you were far more than the innocent little omega he’d determined you to be—you were a creature of sex and desire, made to take an alpha’s knot and be pumped full of come in the hopes that their seed would take root in your womb. When your heat hit fully, your keening wails echoed from your cottage, and they were a siren song that called directly to Steve’s alpha heart.
But he kept himself away. After all, there were polite ways of going about these things, and he’d never even asked you out on a date, so he certainly wasn’t going to assume you wanted his help to get you through your heat. Besides, you hadn’t asked for him to join you, anyway.
That didn’t stop Steve from keeping an eye on you, though.
He’d noticed the slight change in your scent a few days before your heat truly set in, his cock reacting even more to your perfect omega body than normal. Steve felt like he was walking around with a constant bulge in his pants after getting a single whiff of your scent, but he ignored the niggling feeling telling him he needed to be close to you and did his best to hide his reaction. He knew you had other things to worry about than the comfort of the alpha next door.
Even though something in him compelled him to go to you, Steve couldn’t bring himself to walk over to your cottage. It occurred to him that even if you didn’t want him to help you through your heat, he could offer to go to the store to get the food and provisions you’d need. But he didn’t. He was worried about what he’d do if he looked into your home and saw your nest and smelled your sweet perfume.
So Steve kept his distance, watching you from his truck and the windows of his house as you brought home a week’s worth of provisions—protein bars and sports drinks that would keep you nourished enough to make it through your heat. Steve wished he could carry the heavy-looking bags into your home, but his cock was pitching a tent in his sweatpants, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with the way his alpha body reacted to your omega scent.
Finally, as your heat drew closer, you locked up your cottage, closing all the windows and drawing all the curtains. Steve couldn’t help but notice, though, that you left the skylight in your bedroom cracked open a tiny bit. Steve’s alpha hindbrain itched at the thought that you’d only left it open because you couldn’t close it yourself, and he had to hold himself back from going over to your cottage to offer to close it.
Steve knew omegas liked to keep their nests dark and warm and locked up tight. They wanted to keep all the scents created during a heat trapped in their nest, at least until their heat broke. So it was curious that you’d left the skylight open, even a little bit.
But when your heat hit in earnest that evening, your pitiful whimpers and desperate moans filtering through the open window and directly to Steve’s ears—through the window of his bedroom that he’d thrown open the moment he’d heard you—he forgot about what omegas typically wanted. Instead, all the blood in his body rushed to his cock, making him harder than he’d ever been in his life.
Steve stood at the window of his bedroom, which overlooked your cottage, his eyes glazing over as he listened to you pant and whine and cry out for an alpha that wasn’t coming. Because of course Steve had noticed that no alpha had arrived to help you through your heat. He assumed you were using any number of the toys that were sold precisely to help unmated omegas get through their heats without an alpha’s help.
But it meant you were alone, in your nest, riding out your heat on some silicone knot. That thought nearly made Steve storm from his house and barge into your cottage to demand you let him help you, but he reminded himself you were too sweet, too sweet, too sweet for him. So instead, he fisted his cock and listened to your raspy pleas fill the night sky.
“Need your knot, alpha, oh god, please,” you babbled, your voice beautifully melodic to Steve even when you were desperately begging for something he knew he shouldn’t give you. “Fill me up, daddy, I need it—need your knot, alpha—daddy, daddy, alpha, please, please, please!” Your moans grew louder and Steve could only imagine the thick silicone knot that was filling you up the way he should be filling you.
One of Steve’s hands gripped the frame of his window tightly, using the feel of the wood digging into his palm to keep himself grounded as he physically fought with his alpha instincts. He wanted to break into your cottage and rip your toys away from you so he could help you through your heat. Like he was meant to. It should be him inside you, sinking into your warm, welcoming cunt while you looked up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.
Steve’s other hand gripped his cock, pumping his hard, stiff length with a fist so tight, it was nearly punishing. It helped a little, but his fist was a far cry from your perfect cunt, which would be gushing with wetness and so hot, Steve would feel like he was sinking into heaven and hell at the same time. And when he came, it wouldn’t be anywhere near as satisfying as emptying his balls right against your cervix, pumping your womb full of his seed while knot locked your bodies together so it would be almost certain he’d knock you up.
That is, if you weren’t on birth control. Which most unmated omegas were, Steve reminded himself.
Still, the alpha in him was a beast barely caged—he wanted to breed you.
Steve wanted to see you impaled on his cock and his knot, so bloated from how full you were with his come that he could see it in the way your belly bulged, giving a preview of what you’d look like growing with his child. He wanted to knock you up, he wanted to see you swollen and round with his pup.
He wanted to keep fucking you even as you carried his child, watching you bounce on his knot, your tits swollen with milk and your belly big and round while he tried to fill your womb with another before you’d even popped out the first. Steve wanted to keep you pregnant all the time, your pretty little omega body always ripe and swollen with his pups, taking his knot and his come every moment of the day so he could make sure you were always glowing with the radiance of motherhood.
It was that image of you—beautiful and knocked up, your eyes hazy with pleasure that came only from being impaled on his cock, and being locked on his knot—that made Steve come.
He grunted as the pleasure of his fist and his thoughts of you finally became too much, wrapping both his hands around his thick length, one squeezing his knot while the other pumped the rest of his shaft. His come erupted from the tip, streaming over the windowsill and dripping down to his bare feet on the wooden floor of his bedroom.
A growl tore from Steve’s lips while he came, a deep, dark part of his alpha hindbrain responding furiously to the fact that he was wasting his seed. He should be emptying his balls deep in your fertile cunt while your slick walls gripped his knot and milked every drop of his seed into your womb, where it belonged.
Steve’s release seemed to last for ages, longer than he’d ever experienced before, and if it wasn’t for the fact that his head finally started to clear when it abated, he would’ve been worried he’d gone into rut. But finally, Steve surfaced from the depths of his pleasure, and winced when he remembered the thoughts that had made him come.
Steve was appalled by the direction in which his imagination had gone, and felt guilty for imagining you in such a state as pregnant and bouncing on his cock—even as the reminder made his cock leak one last spurt of his release. Cursing and castigating himself, Steve moved away from the window to clean himself up and wipe down the spot where he’d been standing.
The entire time he was cleaning up after himself, Steve felt off-balance. He’d never felt such a pull toward an omega before you, and he’d never been so close to going into rut just from listening to an omega whimper and moan. If he didn’t know better, he would think you were his mate—the one omega in the whole world who was perfect for him.
But Steve pushed that thought aside and reminded himself you were too sweet for an alpha like him. You might’ve sounded desperate and needy while you suffered through your heat alone, but you deserved better than an alpha who could think of nothing else besides pumping you full of come and knocking you up with his child.
Steve felt disturbed all over again when he thought of the vivid, obscene things he’d imagined while he’d jerked himself off. He’d never been the type of alpha to get off on the idea of breeding, let alone pictured anyone swollen with his kid while they were impaled on his cock. Steve felt so far out of his depth, he swiped his clean hand down his face to try to regain the equilibrium that had been shattered by your pretty omega sounds.
Thankfully, you’d gone blessedly quiet at some point when Steve had been coming all over his windowsill. He tossed the rag he’d used to clean up his mess into the laundry and flopped down on his bed, knowing he wouldn’t be getting any rest that night. It was a good thing he’d called out of work on heat leave.
Even as Steve lay in his bed, the refrain that you were too sweet for him repeating in his mind, he couldn’t help hoping that you were getting some much-needed rest. He’d never been one to worry over much about whether someone was sleeping or eating, but he wondered if you’d had a protein bar and drank a sports drink before falling asleep. He knew you needed to keep up your strength if you’d make it through your heat.
His thoughts spinning around in his mind, Steve fell into a light, fitful sleep, his alpha hindbrain remaining alert and attuned to the sounds coming from your cottage. Little did he know, it wouldn’t be long before everything would change. Something would happen that would force Steve to finally give in to the connection between him and the omega next door.
When you woke on the second morning of your heat, it was to a burning need cutting through your core, urging you to roll onto your knees and sink down on the silicone knot toy that had slipped from your pussy while you slept. Unbidden, the face of the alpha next door, Steve Rogers, popped into your mind and you sobbed through another wave of aching desire, wishing desperately that he was with you to help you through your heat.
You hadn’t met the alpha until after you’d moved into the little pink cottage next door to his much larger home, and you were instantly smitten with the former soldier. He was big—so much bigger than you—with broad shoulders and bulging biceps that were barely hidden beneath the tight t-shirts he always seemed to wear. But it was Steve’s thighs that were always so distracting to you, so thick they made you want to ride them until your slick was drenching his jeans.
A pitiful moan fell from your lips as you reached between your thighs, grasping blindly for the toy you’d discarded in your sleep. With your face still shoved into a pillow and sleep still clinging to the edges of your consciousness, you slid down on the thick silicone cock, pretending it belonged to Steve.
The alpha next door was just so…sweet.
It hadn’t taken you long after moving into your cottage to learn your neighbor’s schedule, and you made sure to always be working in the garden in front of your home when he got back from work. You lived for the growly greetings he would call to you, and the faint blush that would graze his cheekbones, like he was shy around you, his harmless omega neighbor.
And on the weekends, when you knew Steve wasn’t working, you sat on your back porch reading—though you were more often ogling the fit alpha’s shoulders and arms as he worked in his backyard. The sun would shine on Steve’s blond hair and make him look like a golden god, with sparkling blue eyes that would occasionally flick in your direction, though you didn’t think he was really looking at you.
Of course, when he’d offer to mow your lawn, you’d let him. Then, to show the alpha your thanks, you’d make him some nice refreshing lemonade. If that meant you could watch him quench his thirst while you imagined his sweet mouth on your body, drinking your slick as eagerly as he drank your lemonade, then that was just a bonus to being a good neighbor. Right?
It had become abundantly clear to you that you harbored a crush on Steve, and it was nearly excruciating living next to him when he didn’t seem interested in making a move on his omega neighbor. After all, it had been months, and he’d been nothing but friendly and respectful and sweet.
It was obvious, at least to you, that Steve was too sweet for you—too sweet to be the rough, dominant alpha you craved. Too sweet to bend you over and impale you on his thick cock with one stroke. Too sweet to shove his knot into your cunt and make you come so hard you saw stars. Too sweet to knock you up over and over again, filling up that big house of his with pups that you’d created together.
You’d told yourself it was for the best that Steve kept his distance. If he couldn’t be what you needed, then you didn’t want your crush to develop into unrequited feelings. But your heart didn’t listen, so you kept putting yourself in situations where you’d get to see your neighbor—working in your front garden when he got home, sitting on your back porch while he was in his backyard.
Then, you began to feel your heat coming on, and your thoughts about the alpha next door only worsened. It wasn’t uncommon anymore for unmated omegas to ask alpha friends or acquaintances to help them through their heats, but the prospect of asking Steve for his help, getting to come all over his knot for days on end, and then trying to go back to the way things were sounded torturous.
Instead, you went about your heat preparations as you always did, gathering supplies from the grocery store and stocking up the minifridge in your bedroom with sports drinks while you piled your bedside table high with protein bars. You closed and locked all the doors and windows of your cottage, drawing the curtains tight to keep out the sun.
You knew you were a bit of an odd omega, and you didn’t like total darkness in your nest, which was why you had been the only one interested in the little cottage. It had a skylight in the bedroom that any other omega would want closed and covered during their heat. The window itself was covered in a film that dampened most of the direct sunlight and you enjoyed the natural light, even when you were deep in your heat, so it was perfect for you.
It occurred to you, as you were preparing your room, that if you cracked open the skylight, the sounds you made during your heat would filter out from your cottage. Your desperate cries for a knot might even be heard by the alpha next door…
Later, you’d blame your decision to leave the skylight open on the dangerous combination of your pre-heat brain and the exquisite agony of your crush on Steve. But by that time, the little decision you’d made in the urgency of your heat preparations would’ve irrevocably changed your life—for the better—and you wouldn’t give a thought to regretting what you’d done.
Still, on that second morning of your heat, when you were woken by the need to be knotted and flooded with come, you didn’t even remember that you’d decided to leave the skylight open. So you had no idea whether it was working or not, whether Steve could hear you—but he wasn’t far from your thoughts as you rode your silicone alpha toy, trying to slake the need that burned through your body.
Your heats were always a little hazy, like most omega’s, with desire and need pounding through your blood so insistently, you couldn’t form any coherent thoughts. Your mind could only focus on getting a cock inside you, then a knot and, if you’d had an alpha to help you, the gush of their come. Since you were so mindless, you uttered words that you’d forgotten the second they fell from your lips.
The first night of your heat, when you’d had a moment of clear-headedness enough to gulp down a sports drink and scarf a protein bar, you’d hoped you hadn’t cried out anything that would embarrass you—like Steve’s name. You’d had a vague memory of calling out for an alpha, which was normal for an unmated omega, and a daddy, which was normal for you, given your desires when you weren’t going through your heat. But you’d breathed a sigh of relief when you didn’t remember calling out for Steve specifically.
You couldn’t imagine what would happen if you cried out Steve’s name while in heat. But you were about to find out.
The silicone toy in your cunt wasn’t cutting it. It had been just fine that first night, though you hadn’t felt as satisfied as you normally did, and you hadn’t slept as long as you typically did in between waves of your heat. Something about this heat felt different. You weren’t just desperate for an alpha’s knot and come, you wanted more…
You wanted a pup. You wanted an alpha’s cock shoved deep in your cunt, unloading their come against your cervix, filling your womb with a seed that would take and knock you up. You wanted to be bred—and not just by any alpha. You wanted the alpha next door to breed you.
Steve. You wanted Steve. You needed Steve.
“Please,” you gasped, the word leaving your lips as you thought of your big, sweet alpha neighbor. His face came easily to your mind, those sparkling blue eyes and soft lips, that strong jaw and the way a blush turned his cheeks the most perfect shade of pink. “Please, alpha, need your knot, need your come,” you whined, speaking to the image of Steve in your mind.
You pushed yourself up onto your knees, grabbing one of the many pillows from your bed and shoving it between your thighs, forcing the silicone alpha cock deeper into your cunt. Still, it wasn’t enough, even as you tried to make due.
You rocked your hips, trying to replicate the feeling of fucking yourself on an alpha’s cock, but it paled in comparison. A desperate whine worked its way up your throat, filling your room and slipping from the skylight into the morning air.
“Please, daddy, wanna have your baby,” you cried, your hands going to your tits and tugging on your nipples so roughly, pleasure and pain swirled through your body, creating a tornado of sensation that only fed the need burning in your core. “Wan’ you to knock me up, alpha, wanna give you pups, wan’ you to suck on my milky tits while you fuck me, daddy.” You groped your breasts, pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself, the sensations making your cunt gush slick all over the toy inside you.
The pleasure was gathering in your core, making you more desperate to reach the pinnacle of your climax. Your hips worked, humping the pillow and cock between your thighs, shoving yourself down against the knot at the base of the toy, knowing it was what you needed to come, but your pussy was still too tight to take it.
“Oh god, I need it, alpha, I need it, I need it,” you babbled mindlessly, fucking yourself furiously on the toy and still wishing it was Steve’s cock.
You pictured him beneath you, his cheeks tinged pink, not with a blush, but with the flush of his desire for you, his blue eyes nearly black from his pupils blowing wide as he stared up at you. His soft mouth parted as he groaned, his thick cock buried in your tight cunt, twitching as you squeezed him.
It was with that image in your mind that the fateful words spilled from your lips. You cried out desperately, “Knock me up, daddy, gimme your pup, please—please, breed me, Steve!”
So close to the edge of your release, you barely heard the distant crashing sound that echoed between your little cottage and the house that belonged to the alpha next door. All you heard were your gasping breaths and mindless moans, the toy shoving into your cunt making low squelching noises that only managed to turn you on more.
It was only when a much closer smashing sound preceded the swirl of cool morning air infiltrating your home, and flooding into your nest, that you were able to drag your attention away from your own desperate frustration. Your omega instincts were going haywire, part of you telling you something was wrong, while another part unfurled and shifted, like a flower blooming toward the sun.
Blinking your eyes to clear away the haze of your heat, your mouth fell open in an ‘o’ of surprise at the sight of the alpha in your bedroom doorway.
Steve’s big body filled the doorway, his hands clutching the wooden frame while his chest heaved with heavy breaths. It looked like he was trying to hold himself back, his grip so tight on your doorframe that a distant part of your mind worried it might splinter beneath his palms. But you couldn’t think too closely about that, not when your neighbor was staring at you with a crazed look in his eyes, like he wanted to fill you with his knot as badly as you wanted to be filled.
Your too sweet alpha neighbor’s mouth—which was normally curved in a soft, friendly smile—was twisted with ferocious lust, and when he spoke, his voice was a rough growl like nothing you’d ever heard from Steve.
“Invite me into your bed,” he rumbled, the order clear in his voice even if he didn’t use his alpha command. “Ask me to help you through your heat, tell me you want me here,” he went on through clenched teeth, an edge of desperation in his tone that called your heart—and your cunt. “Tell me you want me, omega.” His fingers gripped the doorframe tighter, and you heard the wood creak beneath his strength.
Your pussy spasmed and your heart lurched when Steve called you by your designation, but it was when his scent hit you that you felt something inside your being shift and lock into place. Steve smelled like home—like safety and security and love. He smelled like a future of wrangling children together and making love together and sitting on a porch swing together and growing old together.
In that moment, you knew what your instincts had known from the moment you met Steve—he was your mate. He was the one alpha in all the world who was meant for you, just as you were the omega meant for him. And once you knew that, it was the easiest thing in the world to part your lips and beg him to join you in your nest, in your bed, and help you through your heat.
“Please, Steve—please, mate, please help me,” you begged, your voice breathy with need and excitement, tears of joy shining in your eyes.
Something shifted in Steve’s expression when you called him your mate. You watched as he took a deep breath, scenting you the way you had him. A riot of emotions swirled in those beautiful blue eyes of his—disbelief, acknowledgement, acceptance, satisfaction, pride. You saw the moment he realized what you’d only just discovered, a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth.
“My omega, my mate,” Steve growled, finally letting go of the doorframe and launching himself at you.
Finally—finally—Steve was coming to you, closing the distance between you, and you’d never been happier in all your life. The alpha next door was your mate, and you hoped that meant he would be more than willing to knock you up and breed you like you needed.
Steve had woken from his fitful sleep to the sound of your sweet cries that morning, though they sounded much more desperate to his ears. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but you sounded less than satisfied with whatever toy you were using and Steve slid a hand down to his already hard cock, thinking you should’ve been riding him instead of some silicone dick.
He’d lazily stroked his cock, trying to restrain himself from coming all over his stomach, while listening to your increasingly desperate cries. Steve had fisted a hand in the sheets of his bed, hoping it would be enough to hold himself back from storming over to your cottage and taking your heat into his own hands.
Then, Steve heard you cry out his name and something in him snapped. Before he even knew what he was doing, he’d thrown on some boxer briefs and stormed out of his bedroom, leaping down the stairs and throwing open the front door of his house so ferociously, he’d ripped it off some of the hinges.
Not even caring that he was leaving his door open, Steve charged over to your cottage, taking a little bit more care with your front door when he broke the lock and pushed it open, flinging it closed behind him. He knew it was likely stuck closed thanks to the broken lock, but Steve only cared that it would prevent anyone else from getting into your home. He’d deal with getting out later. Much later.
Finally, Steve got to the doorway of your bedroom, your nest, and he’d stumbled to a stop at the sight that lay before him.
You were perched in the center of your big bed, a pillow wedged between your thighs, the knot of a toy barely visible while you humped futilely on the fake cock. Your delicate fingers groped your tits, squeezing your soft flesh and pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself—that thought making even more blood rush to Steve’s cock. Desperate whimpers and whines fell from your lips, more pleas to be knocked up and filled with pups, and they were nearly his undoing.
At the last second, Steve gripped the doorframe, holding himself back from pouncing on you, as he tried to remember why he shouldn’t be there. You were an unmated omega, in heat, and he hadn’t gotten permission to be in your nest, let alone help you through your heat. And you were too sweet for him…
God, you looked sweet, though. Sweet enough that Steve’s mouth watered with the thought of how slick you were, how good you would taste on his tongue. Even from the doorway, he could see the way your wetness had soaked the pillow between your thighs. He wanted to taste you, to scent you, he wanted you.
Steve was seconds away from launching himself at you when your gaze finally landed on him. It was the delighted surprise in your eyes that urged him to ground out a desperate plea for consent to enter your room and help you through your heat. Blessedly, you seemed coherent enough to answer—but you didn’t only answer and beg for his help, you called him your mate.
That word struck a chord in Steve’s chest, his heart pounding even harder at the impossible prospect that you were his mate—that you were meant to be his. But he took a deep breath, taking in the scent of you and opening himself up to the possibility that you were his.
You even smelled sweet, like the pink roses in your front garden—or, rather, the peace Steve felt when he came home to find you tending to your flowers. You smelled like the warmth of a gentle fire and the giddiness of butterfly kisses. You smelled like life, like the time unfurling before the two of you, years and decades spent with each other, making each other happy.
It was as if Steve truly came alive for the first time when he scented you, and the last tether of the self-restraint holding him back from you snapped.
“My omega, my mate,” he rumbled in a low purr, a voice he’d never even heard himself use before. But he didn’t have time to think about that too closely—he only knew he needed to get to you.
As quickly as he could, Steve surged into your room, tearing off his boxer briefs—the only clothing he’d had the presence of mind to put on, and he was thankful for it, since it saved him the grief of a public indecency charge—in the few steps it took to get to your bed.
By the time Steve tackled you into the tangle of blankets and pillows, he was naked as the day he was born, his cock throbbing with need and brushing against swaths of your soft, bare skin, leaving his precum behind. The alpha cradled your body in his strong arms as he rolled you beneath him, his narrow hips slotting perfectly between your plush thighs, his hard length resting against your mound.
But there was something in his way, something that shouldn’t be inside you and Steve couldn’t help but growl, “Get that fucking toy out of my cunt, ‘mega.” He softened the fury in his voice with light, fleeting kisses to your cheeks and temple and forehead, greedy to taste the sweetness of your skin.
“Yes, alpha,” you gasped, fumbling between your bodies to wrench the silicone dick from your tight hole.
The sweet submission in your voice was too much for Steve—he had to taste it. Slanting his lips to yours, Steve kissed you for the first time, groaning into your mouth at the wondrous feeling of your mouth beneath his. You tasted better than you smelled, like radiant sunshine bursting on his tongue and casting a golden glow over his entire body.
Deepening the kiss, Steve plundered your mouth, stroking his tongue against yours and nipping at your lips until you were gasping and panting beneath him. Your entire body trembled with unslaked need, your fingers clinging to his bulging biceps as you cried out for him, all of which stroked Steve’s alpha ego so much, his cock twitched and leaked against your belly.
“Please, Steve—daddy—alpha—I need you inside me,” you wailed in a broken voice and Steve’s instincts took over.
He shifted his hips back, the tip of his cock finding your slick hole and he pushed forward, sinking his hard length into your cunt with one thrust. Steve’s entire world realigned, his heart stuttering in his chest at the feeling of your tight heat consuming him, overwhelming him. An animalistic groan left his lips, and he buried the sound in your neck, breathing in your scent as he tried not to come immediately.
With Steve’s cock finally buried inside you, he felt your body relax beneath him, your moan of pleasure dissolving into a sigh of relief. Steve’s hindbrain felt a deep satisfaction at the way you melted in his arms, your submission to him apparent in the loosening of your muscles. Finding your lips again, Steve kissed you sweetly, cherishing the moment of calm before your heat urged the two of you to move.
“Thank you, alpha,” you whispered, your voice soft and blissful and the most content Steve had heard it since your heat began in earnest the day before. “The toys weren’t working.” You pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek on your way to burying your face in the crook of his neck, breathing so deeply he could hear your inhale, making his cock twitch in the depths of your pussy.
Then, your words pierced through the haze of pleasure in Steve’s mind and he purred, smiling into your neck when you relaxed further beneath him, responding to him.
“You needed your mate, didn’t you, baby?” Steve cooed, lavishing your neck with kisses until you were whining and squirming beneath him. “Needed your daddy to pound your needy little cunt like only your alpha could, huh?” He started rolling his hips in tight circles, grinding into your cunt, his knot rubbing your clit in a way that had you clenching deliciously around him. “Needed me to pump your sweet little womb full of come, huh, needed me to give you a pup?”
As soon as the heated words fell from Steve’s lips, he wished he could take them back. He’d heard you beg him to breed you, but that was when you were riding a silicone alpha dick, not when you were seconds away from taking Steve’s knot.
Mentally, Steve chastised himself for letting his mouth run away from him so soon. He’d barely gotten his cock in you and he was already talking about knocking you up. He didn’t want you to think he was that kind of alpha, one that only wanted an omega to pump out babies for him—even though the thought did make Steve rock hard.
“Sorry, ‘mega,” Steve mumbled, shifting his arms beneath your body so he could cradle your head in one hand, holding you still while he rocked his hips into yours, kissing your cheek and jaw and neck and anywhere he could reach.
“Sorry for what?” you asked on a gasp, hooking your legs around Steve’s sides and clinging to him so you could grind on his thick cock.
Thankfully, you didn’t seem turned off or scared by Steve’s breeding talk. If anything, the way you arched your spine and shoved your cunt down on his dick made him think you liked it. But surely that couldn’t be true.
“Didn’t mean to mention pups so soon,” Steve said gruffly, hiding his face in your neck so you wouldn’t see the blush that he knew was turning his cheeks pink.
“Oh god,” you moaned, your cunt squeezing Steve’s cock as your body writhed beneath his. “Wanna give you so many pups, alpha,” you cried, humping up from beneath Steve’s big body, riding his cock harder than you’d been riding your toy when he’d walked in.
Steve went cross-eyed at the assault on his senses. Between the perfect heat of your slick pussy gripping his cock, teasing his knot every time you rocked against him, and the sound of your sweet voice confessing you wanted him to knock you up, Steve’s body shuddered with the effort it took not slam his knot home and flood your womb with his seed to give you exactly what you wanted.
“You like that idea, huh?” Steve rumbled, hungry passion and desire coursing through his body and urging him to move faster, to fuck you harder. He pulled out of your fluttering pussy and slammed back inside, relishing the desperate cry that left your lips and the way your fingers dug into the muscles of his arms. “You like it when your alpha tells you how much he wants to breed you?”
Despite his best efforts, Steve could hear the thread of insecurity in his question, and he wasn’t surprised when you cupped his face and moved his head up so you could look into his eyes. What he didn’t expect was the sheer amount of pleasure and desire in your hazy gaze, or the mixture of sweetness and depravity in the little smirk you gave him.
“I do, daddy,” you said, your voice breathy but no less firm in your resolve. “I want to hear everything you’ve thought about doing to your little omega—want you to breed me, alpha.”
Everything else in the world melted away as Steve focused on you—his omega, his mate—and the fact that he was going to try his damndest to give you what you wanted. After all, that was his duty as your alpha. You were his to take care of, to provide for, to protect, to cherish—to fuck and to knot.
You were his to love—you were his to breed. And Steve planned on loving you and breeding you plenty.
You’d never felt anything so good as Steve sinking his thick alpha cock into your weeping cunt, and you nearly sobbed in relief as the edge of aching, burning need finally abated. This was what you needed—not a toy or any alpha’s cock, but your mate’s. Your body and omega instincts had known something was wrong, and it had taken a slip of your tongue to fix it.
Even if it had been an accident to cry out Steve’s name, you couldn’t feel embarrassed about it, not when you finally felt something like satisfaction. The need of your heat still burned bright beneath your skin, but for a moment, you could revel in the feeling of being so intimately connected to your mate, your Steve—the alpha next door.
The words of thanks had slipped past your lips before you could stop them, and you loved the teasing way he responded. But then you felt a shift in Steve. He’d seemed to feel guilty for mentioning pups, but even his apology turned you on, making your arousal burn hotter. Your body had been unable to still when you needed him so badly—needed to give him pups, needed to grow round with his child and know that he had claimed you in the most primal way possible.
Your brain had short-circuited when Steve had said he wanted to breed you, but you’d still heard the anxiousness in his tone and you’d guided his head up so you could look at him. The uncertainty and guilt in Steve’s beautiful blue eyes nearly broke your heart. He was too sweet for words, wanting to make sure you were comfortable with even the words he said in the heat of the moment.
Between one breath and the next, you fell in love with Steve Rogers. He wasn’t simply the alpha next door, he was your mate, and he was yours. A fierce possessiveness filled your chest as you smirked up at your alpha, determining to show him exactly how much you wanted everything he’d said.
“Want you to breed me, alpha,” you begged on a moan, your hips rising up off the bed to meet the brutal thrusts of your mate. “Fill me up with your pups, daddy, please, I need it!” You held Steve’s gaze, letting him see the pleasure on your face, hear the genuineness of your words.
You saw the moment Steve’s insecurity and guilt melted into desire and determination. His blue eyes darkened and his face twisted into a mask of sinful resolve. He looked like a fallen god, with his golden hair and tanned skin, framed perfectly in the little bit of morning light filtering in through the skylight above your bed. Your pussy clenched around his cock, fluttering as he thrust inside you, teasing your hole with his knot.
“Don’t worry, ‘mega,” Steve rumbled, ducking down and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that left you gasping for breath. He pressed his forehead to yours, staring deep into your eyes. “We’re making a baby today.”
“Yes, alpha,” you cried, spreading your legs wider in an effort to let Steve fuck you deeper. He grinned, shifting his hands to your thighs and pushing them up against your chest, folding you in half and pounding you into the bed.
“Gonna fill up your perfect cunt with all the seed in my balls, and if it doesn’t take today, ‘m gonna fill you up until you’re overflowing with my come—until your belly’s bulging with it,” Steve growled, rutting into you with a ferociousness you never would’ve expected from your sweet alpha neighbor. But Steve’s sweetness was never far from the surface, and he proved it by lowering his voice to a deep rumble that you felt in your belly, asking, “Mm, ’s that what you want, baby, want daddy to give you a pup?”
You were pinned beneath Steve, his cock fucking you so hard, your room was filing with the wet squelching sounds of your soaking cunt and the sharp rhythm of your alpha’s thighs slapping against your own. But still, it was his words that seemed to have the most effect on you, turning you into a writhing, needy creature who’d only be satisfied when Steve emptied his balls deep in your cunt.
“Yes, alpha,” you cried, your fingers clinging to Steve’s shoulders, digging into his warm, golden skin while he fucked you into oblivion. “Want you to knock me up, wanna give you a pup, wanna grow big and round with your child and feed you both from my milky tits,” you babbled, throwing your head back and screaming when Steve’s cock hit against your cervix, pleasure and pain swirling like an inferno in your body. “Please, daddy, god, I need it, I need it—knot me, breed, me, Steve, please!”
“Baby,” Steve groaned, capturing your lips in another kiss while he rutted into you faster and harder, his knot pressing against your tight hole with every thrust and teasing you with the stretch of it. “You’re gonna get a pup, alright,” he growled when he pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re gonna pop out a kid for me and then I’m gonna fill you right back up.” Steve moaned, his body shuddering and you knew he was close. “Wanna watch you bounce on my cock with your belly ripe and swollen with my pups, your tits heavy with milk—the prettiest mommy and mate an alpha could ask for.”
“Steve,” you sobbed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to hold him close, kissing him and thrusting your hips up to meet his. “Please, make me a mommy, alpha—wanna be a mommy, please, daddy, daddy, please!” Then your lips were too preoccupied with Steve’s, kissing him messily in between desperate moans while he fucked you hard and fast.
Finally, Steve pulled back and thrust forward with so much power, his knot pushed inside your tight cunt and you screamed in pleasure, the feeling of his thick bulge stretching your tight hole sending you over the edge into the most earth-shattering release you’d felt in your life. It was a transcendental experience, coming on your mate’s cock, your alpha surrounding you and filling you up in every way possible.
As your body squeezed Steve’s cock, he groaned loudly in your ear, burying his face in your neck while his hips stuttered against yours, trying to fuck you with his knot but unable to move because your bodies were locked so tightly together. Then, with a moan of, “my mate,” you felt the moment Steve began to come. His cock twitched deep inside your cunt, a warmth filling you as he shot rope after rope of come against your cervix, filling your womb.
For a long time, the two of you stayed locked together, riding out your releases in each other’s embrace. Giggles and moans filled the room, each of you kissing the other wherever you could reach while you basked in your pleasure together. You breathed in the scent of Steve, your lips dragging up and down the column of his throat while he kissed your neck and shoulder and just beneath your ear, making you shiver.
Eventually, when the squeezing of your cunt was reduced to a flutter and your body had milked every last drop of seed from Steve’s cock, the two of you settled. Your heat had abated for the moment. Though need still burned low in the core of your body, reminding you it wasn’t over just yet.
But you had a bit of a respite, and you took the time to revel in you newfound mate. Turning your head, you pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek, which was flushed pink with pleasure.
You felt Steve’s smile against your skin and then he was rising up so you could see the full blush that tinged your alpha’s cheeks. He looked so sweet and ruined, his blond hair a mess, his blue eyes bright with satisfaction, a deeply smug smile on his plump lips.
“Feeling better, ‘mega?” he asked, though there was so much male satisfaction in his tone, you were certain he already knew the answer.
Still, you liked seeing this side of Steve. Typically you didn’t like cocky alphas, but Steve looked so hot when he was confident, your pussy fluttered around his knot at the sight of his smirk.
“I am, daddy,” you said softly, smiling up at your alpha, enjoying the way his smirk deepened as you confirmed what he knew. You couldn’t help but stroke his ego a little more. “Now that you’re here to take care of me.”
Steve’s eyes softened and he pressed a heated kiss to your lips. “Good,” he said when he pulled away. Then his arms were wrapping around you and he rolled onto his back, dragging you with him until you were splayed across his broad chest, your bodies still locked together by his knot.
It would deflate soon enough, but you reveled in the feeling while it lasted, snuggling into Steve’s arms. Sleep called to you, but Steve was still moving and you when you opened your eyes, you found him reaching for your stash of provisions on your bedside table.
“Gotta eat and hydrate, baby,” Steve murmured as he unwrapped a protein bar and began feeding it to you. Even though you were exhausted, you knew he was right and you let him feed you, only sitting up when it was time to gulp down some of the sports drink he offered you. “Good girl, ‘mega, doing so well for your alpha,” Steve said, praising you while you ate and drank.
When you were done, Steve tossed the empty wrappers and bottles back onto your bedside table and relaxed into the many pillows on your bed. You settled down on his chest, your body sated in every way possible, muscles going loose when your alpha began to purr.
“Thank you, alpha,” you mumbled, the urge to sleep more insistent since you were fed. Steve’s hands smoothed down your back, tracing your spine lightly with his fingertips in a way that made you melt even further into him.
“Don’t need to thank me,” he grumbled, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple. “You’re my mate, ‘m gonna do everything I can to take care of you—and our kids.” He added the last bit like it was an afterthought, but you knew Steve meant it, and your heart warmed at his protectiveness.
You smiled into Steve’s warm skin, nuzzling into his neck beneath his jaw, breathing in the scent of him—the scent of home—but his words made you remember something you should tell him.
“Steve, ‘m on birth control,” you murmured sleepily, pressing a lazy kiss to the thick column of his neck. “Thought you should know.” You snorted a little, laughing at yourself for the silliness of your last statement, even though it was true.
The rumble of Steve’s purr changed as he chuckled, his strong arms tightening around your waist for a moment before he grabbed a blanket and pulled it up over your cooling bodies. “Figured, ‘mega,” he rumbled, his voice so warm, you could hear his smile. “Doesn’t mean ‘m gonna stop picturing you round with my pup, even if it’s a while before that happens.”
“Mm,” you hummed in acknowledgment, then pouted as you processed his words. “As long as it’s not a long while,” you muttered, hardly listening to what you were saying because you were so close to sleep.
Steve chuckled again, his hands squeezing you lightly. “It’ll be as long or as short as you want, baby,” he assured you in a gruff voice that was thick with just as much tiredness as yours. “I’d give you a pup today if I could.”
You smiled, your heart filling with emotion, and pressed your lips to your alpha’s neck. You might’ve been exhausted, but it didn’t stop you from murmuring the words your heart urged you to say, “I love you, Steve.”
Steve’s purr deepened, and he held you close, no hesitation in his voice when he said, “I love you, too.” Your alpha brushed a kiss to your cheek and smacked your ass very lightly. “Now rest, omega, we still have to get through the rest of your heat.”
You fell asleep with a smile on your face, feeling safe and protected and satisfied in the arms of your mate, your bodies still locked together by Steve’s knot. You never would’ve expected anything to come of your crush on your neighbor—and you never would’ve expected he’d be a perfect fit for your desires, let alone your mate.
But, you knew the two of you were going to live a happy life together—and you couldn’t wait to spend every moment of it with the alpha next door.
#CT 2024 raffle entry#steve rogers#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers smut#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers fic#steve rogers fanfic#alpha steve rogers#alpha steve x omega reader#steve rogers au#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers one shot#chris evans#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans smut#chris evans characters#mutual pining#idiots in love#omegaverse#witchywithwhiskeywork
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to talk is to bare | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Category: hurt/comfort, fluff Summary: three times you've never felt enough for Spencer Reid—and the three times he rectified it immediately Content: insecure reader, written with early s2 Spencer in mind (glasses!Spencer rawr), reader wears makeup, implied bad relationships in the past, Spencer is just a sweetheart Word count: 2.4k A/N: entry for #lovers1kevent (congrats @mggslover muah) - the lyric prompt for this is “And I knew how you took your coffee and your favorite songs by heart, I read all of your (self help) books so you'd think that I was smart” from enough for you by Olivia Rodrigo. This was supposed to just be pure angst but apparently, I can't write this man as anything other than the perfect boyfriend.
“Well, actually, Dostoevsky intended the book to be a critique on certain schools of thoughts and ideologies, namely...”
You stare at your boyfriend, nodding along as he explains the intricacies and historical context of Notes from the Underground to you. His smile is kind and excited when he stops, looking at you expectantly.
“Right.” the smile on your face isn't forced, per se, but neither does it reach your eyes. How many times has it happened this month? It isn’t that you’re keeping count of all the times he’s corrected you—truthfully, you can’t, because you’ve lost count. And that’s the crux of the issue, isn’t it? The fact that you can’t even keep track of his corrections anymore, because he does it all the time.
You remind yourself he's not doing this to deliberately make you feel stupid, your memory immediately calling forth all the times you've seen him correct other people — his teammates, the cashier at your favorite bookstore, a random person in the park. It's never pointed, nor is the act laced with anything but genuine, loving desire to share his knowledge. He's not like the men you've had to deal with in the past, the ones who jump at every opportunity to show off that they know more than you, that they're correct and you're wrong.
But this is Spencer. Sweet, wholly inexperienced, awkward. Half the time, he doesn't know how he comes across, and you've been dating him long enough to understand that.
No, his corrections aren’t the crux of the issue. In fact, it isn’t even him. It’s you, and all the treacherous thoughts running through your mind. This damn book you’d read because you saw a dog eared copy in his satchel one day, pushing through pages upon pages of dense material just to catch up and relate with him, only to still come up short and have yourself be corrected.
The sting is still there, lingering and acrid in the back of your tongue. You cannot pinpoint it yet, this But it's Spencer Reid, so you grit your teeth and remind yourself not to take it personally. The words slip out easily. You could almost believe they aren’t lies. “Thank you for letting me know.”
The beam on his face is a reminder that not everyone is as patient, that he's come to expect looks that range from baffled to downright annoyed. Nobody else allows him free reign to talk like this, long winded rambles that get nipped at the bud with a sharp Reid. He smiles, beams at you, and this time the smile on your lips finally reaches your eyes.
“So what did I get wrong?”
“You weren’t wrong,” he’s pulling you in as he answers, lips finding the underside of your jaw and the bitterness dissipates, sweetens into something that makes your toes curl, “Just a little inaccurate.”
Your body melts into him easily. “You don't have to sugarcoat with me.”
“I'm not, it's literature. You can interpret it however you want, I just thought knowing the rest of the context would help you with your opinion.” he's kissing down your neck, breaths ghosting over your skin as he continues to talk, and you sink into his arms, forgetting why you were even feeling annoyed in the first place.
You’re not sure if you like the color you’ve put to make your cheeks flush. It's always been a point of contention in the past, your exes saying you don't put enough effort in, so this time with Spencer, you try. Even though you're not the best at it, even though you feel a little foolish because it seems a little too bright despite all of your hurried attempts to blend it a little more. But it’s too late to change now. You don’t want to go through the whole deal of reapplying your makeup because that would mean running late, so you ignore it and head to the cafe quickly.
Spencer isn't there yet. You order your drinks, his black and into which you dump an exorbitant amount of sugar. Memorization is his thing, but you've come to learn a thing or two about him in the time you two are dating.
He's a few minutes late, and when he arrives, Spencer’s eyes lock on you. Or, more specifically, your cheeks.
“That bad?” you tease, standing from your seat and leaning over for a kiss.
“You don’t have the coloring for that shade of red.”
Your brow knits as you pull away. Attempting to hide the flood of insecurity that swept through your chest, you let out a chuckle. Soft, shaky, and accompanied with a confused, “What?”
“It makes your cheeks look a little inflamed.”
“Oh.”
Regret fills your chest, settling in your lungs until it’s difficult to breathe. You should have trusted your instincts and scrubbed the makeup off. Shouldn’t have tried something new on the one day the two of you can go out. He’s probably embarrassed by you. How silly, being a full grown woman wearing makeup bordering on clownish.
He must have caught the hurt in your voice, the way your body deflates because he’s quick to remedy. “Hey, what’s that look for?”
It should embarrass you, the speed at which he picks up on your emotions. But he’s a profiler after all, he’s specifically trained for this, but sometimes you wish he doesn’t use it against you. Gentle hands cup your face. Cold hands, perpetually so until you’ve started keeping them between yours. They tilt your head up.
“Talk to me.”
“It’s stupid.”
“Nothing you say is ever stupid.”
You smile, “No, I think we both know that’s a lie.”
He relents. He knows you’re right; there are moments where you don’t make sense. “Not stupid, just…” his eyes roam your face while he searches for the word to use as compromise, as though he’ll find it tucked somewhere in your pretty features, “Lapses in discernment.”
You roll your eyes at his fancy vernacular, the attempt to soothe his mistake. “I think I prefer the layman’s term.”
Spencer laughs sheepishly, then presses his lips to your forehead, “I’m never using that to describe you.” he murmurs against your skin, and then, “I'm sorry.”
Antarctica could melt from the warmth in your chest. “You don't even know what you're apologizing for.”
“I upset you. That's reason enough.”
You sigh, pulling him to join you on the plush booth seat you'd managed to secure for your date. “Well, there's nothing to forgive.”
He accepts the coffee you hand him, corners of his mouth curved in a gentle smile. He sips, and you stew in silence, knowing that you shouldn't be leaving him guessing like this. He'd want to know, you can tell by the way he's studying you, the way he wants to examine and turn over your thoughts and reactions like he does with everything else in his life. But he waits, lets you open up if you so wish.
God, he's perfect.
“I was just having second thoughts about my makeup,” you murmur finally, “And you kind of confirmed it. I told you it's stupid.”
“Not stupid at all. I'm sorry,” you wonder if he takes his coffee sweet to match his personality, this asshole, “It was an insensitive comment. And for what it's worth, you look beautiful regardless.”
“Inflamed cheeks and all?”
He laughs, pulling you to his side, lips firmly planted on your cheek “Inflamed cheeks and all.”
Maybe you shouldn’t have worn the blush after all; you're sure he's making you flush scarlet just by being such a sweetheart.
“Oh Spencer knows her.” the teasing tone in Derek Morgan’s voice normally makes you smile, but something about his tone makes you pause. You stare at the TV, where a new show is running, eyes zeroed in on the blonde actress.
“Spencer knows her?”
“Knew,” your boyfriend supplies, “Very briefly.”
Derek Morgan gives him a knowing smirk that has your stomach churning all the way to the end of the night, when you’re getting ready for bed.
You're in his apartment, in an old pair of his plaid pajamas and a t-shirt that fits you surprisingly well. It always makes you smile, his slight frame, the way you could easily steal his clothes and they wouldn't dwarf you too much. But tonight, Derek's words ring over and over again, bringing forth the image of her—Lila Archer, dazzling, perfectly curvy, an actress on a popular TV series… and apparently, a friend of his. You aren't really sure where this jealousy is coming from. He’s a trustworthy man, and you know he loves you. Still, the image of the beautiful actress persists, even as you climb into bed with him.
He's reading as he usually is, the low lamplight casting shadows over the sharp planes of his face. Without even looking, he shifts the book to his other hand, freeing up an arm to draw you to his body. It's easy, quiet, his heartbeat fluttering beneath your ear as you rest your head on his chest. The exact opposite of your own heartbeat right now.
“What's on your mind?”
“Nothing.” It should be a sin, the way you keep denying your feelings. But it's just so silly, and you're a grown woman. Jealousy and insecurity shouldn't be consuming you like this, and yet…
“Please don't lie to me,” his fingers are in your hair, tangling deep into the strands and seeking for your scalp. They’re soothing and rhythmic upon contact, lulling your body into a sense of relaxation even though your heart still hammers at your chest.
“Why do you say that?”
“You usually remind me to use the overhead lights when I read.” fingers putting pressure on your scalp, traveling to your temple. He has you in the palm of his hands, “You didn't do that tonight. And your heartbeat's going at an abnormally high rate, even though I'm quite certain you didn't do anything strenuous before coming to bed. What's going on?”
Damn him and his attention to detail, and the way he’'s learned your little quirks and oddities. He puts down his book and you turn your face to hide into his chest.
You chew on your bottom lip, reminding youself that this is Spencer, he wouldn't judge. “How’d you know her?” your voice is muffled against his shirt, “Lila.”
“We had a case in Los Angeles.” he pauses, as if considering if he should say more. Right. Confidentiality. You nod, accepting his answer.
“Must have been a high profile one then,” you muse, “Or were you just hanging around Hollywood studios with Derek?” It’s an unfair statement, but you can’t help it.
“No, no, it wasn’t like that.” You look back up at him and oh there’s guilt swimming in pools of honey eyes. “I mean, we kissed once, but I swear, nothing beyond that.”
You exhale. A kiss. He's kissed a TV starlet.
This shouldn’t even be an issue. This is before you were even in the picture after all. It’s not fair to uphold him to some weird standard. You certainly had relationships before him. But none of them had been as stunning as Lila Archer. And if he could have Lila Archer, then what is he doing with you?
“Hey,” his other hand comes to stroke your cheek, the soft pad of his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles, “Talk to me.”
It's a difficult thing, being mature and communicating when you just want to stew, but god he's so good, you can't punish him for this, for anything. “I thought you said I was your first girlfriend?” you say instead, teasing him.
“You are, but you know, I’ve kissed before, and been on dates—”
“With Lila?”
“No, with JJ.”
Oh.
“JJ?”
JJ? His lovely, warm spring day beauty coworker JJ? He went on a date with her? And kissed Lila Archer. It’s almost ridiculous, thinking about the type of women he's had dalliances with—lithe, blonde, perfect, before he settled with you.
“Yeah, I took her to a Redskins game,” he says, his hold on your face still light. There's room to move if you want to, space to pull away should you need it and god he's just so perfect.
“You have a type, huh?” it comes out unbidden, sharp but dulled by a bitter laugh.
“What do you mean?”
“With women,” you reply, trying to temper the snappy tone of your voice. It's not fair to lash out at him like this, you know that, yet you can't help it. It's habit at this point, a form of defense that your exes have all been too happy to participate, “I'm the outlier.”
And apparently, he's an outlier too because his voice grows even softer, eyes searching your face with an anxiety that fills you with guilt. “Is that a problem?”
“No,” you sigh, arm draping over his waist and hugging him tight.
He returns the favor, tangling your legs together until you're a mess of limbs under his sheets. “Then what's wrong?”
“Sometimes I just feel like—like I'm not good enough to be dating you.” there it is, whispered into his chest, striking straight to his heart. “And now, knowing that you could have had all of these — these women who could pass for models—”
“Angel,” the way he says the nickname makes you hide even further into his chest. He closes his arms around you, holding you so tightly it's difficult to breathe, but that's okay. Let him fuse your bodies together, let his breaths be yours too, “That's not true, you know that's not true.”
“Isn't it? You're so — you. Intelligent, well decorated in academia, an an elite FBI unit…”
He laughs, “I’m also an endlessly annoying know it all, I failed my gun license exam more than once, I don't have abs—”
“You don't need abs,” you counter, fingers clutching on his shirt.
“Wouldn't you rather be with a guy with a six pack?”
“I'd rather be with you.”
He gently moves away from you, hands finding your face to make you look at him. “And I'd rather be with you.”
You pout, “You can't use my words against me, ‘s not fair.”
He laughs again, leaning to capture your lips in the gentlest of kisses, “I want you, I chose you, and I adore you,” he's murmuring between each kiss, hands cradling your face, “And if you have these thoughts again, tell me, so I can keep reminding you just how much I love you.”
➺ My masterlist | Event masterlist
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couldn't fight to save your life (but you look so cool) ❀˖꩜˚࿔ - e.w

loser!ellie x popular!reader | 3.2k words
a/n: guess who rewatched bottoms for the billionth time (me. it was me.) :p loser!ellie won't leave my mind and neither will crush by ethel cain so here's somethin' random i came up with, enjoy!
cw: cursing, bullying, a little violence, mentions of blood, two idiots that are obviously infatuated with each other, mentions of reader wanting to punch ellie for being too cute cuz they’re strange like that
˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖
you're an angel, she's sure of it.
ellie watches with glassy eyes, practically in a trance, as you absentmindedly play with your hair. she drinks in the way your perfectly curated outfit adorns your body; you always look flawless to her. you were laughing at something your friend had said, ellie's ears straining to hear the saccharine sound over the chatter buzzing. she just heard it, and god, what she would do to have a recording of it to listen to over and over again.
the two of you weren't friends by any means, but she knew you.
most of ellie's time was spent staring at you during class or when you passed her in the hallway. her eyes would shy away every time they met yours, the intensity of your gaze leaving her a flustered mess within seconds.
when she wasn't looking at you, her head was buried into her journal, pencil dragging fervently across the pages. her entries always had your name embedded somewhere within their sentences. it was like you were all she could think about. when she would draw, the lines and curves always morphed into you, capturing a moment of you daydreaming in class or whatever other snapshot her mind had taken of you that wouldn't stop plaguing her.
she'd listen to your conversations when she was close enough to hear - not to be a creep or anything! but how else was she supposed to learn more about you?
sure, the obvious answer would be to talk to you, but she was a nervous wreck from just seeing you. you'd only had a few brief interactions before, and she swears she almost fainted when you remembered her name when you asked her for a pen once.
while she believed the popularity contest that was high school to be ridiculous, her very low place in the school's hierarchy was a definite set-up for failure, she was certain. ellie kept to herself, mostly, aside from her few friends, but that didn't stop her from becoming the target of relentless bullying from some of the other students, the ones at the top of the food chain.
you were well-liked amongst your peers, but your popularity never merged you with those people. you were known for your sunny disposition, whereas they tormented their way to the top.
you'd seen it happen a couple of times, the sound of their jeering always catching your attention, especially when you heard them say ellie's name in that disgusting tone that made your heart ache for her. in fact, it's what snapped you out of your current conversation as an irritated, "what the fuck, williams?" sounds throughout the hallway.
in her lovestruck daze, ellie hadn't been looking where she was walking, which conveniently caused her to bump into one of them - a girl you didn't care much for, quinn was it? all you knew for sure was that she was trouble.
ellie winced and scrunched her face at the sound of her voice, internally cursing at herself because now she had to deal with her. she opened her eyes to see that everyone was looking, including you.
"shit, sorry. wasn't looking where i was going, won't happen again," ellie's tone is curt, trying to move past her and continue with her day before things got worse.
but of course, she wouldn't get let off the hook that easily; that was just her luck.
"where do you think you're going?" she probes, moving to block ellie's path. ellie has to restrain herself from rolling her eyes in her face, not wanting to escalate things if she could help it. how naive of her to think that nothing could ever be easy for her.
"c'mon, dude. i apologised. can we move on and-"
suddenly, it feels like the wind was knocked from ellie's lungs, and she's… falling?
a little stunned, she looks up from her newfound place on the floor after quinn has shoved her to the ground. all because of an accident that could have been easily brushed off and forgotten about. such a dumb fucking reason, and yet it has ellie seething.
"you should watch where you're going, williams. always lurking where nobody wants you to be." quinn spits, taunting ellie to get a rise out of her.
it was likely that ellie's indifferent reactions to quinn's bullying irritated her, unable to fathom why ellie wouldn't buckle and submit like every other one of her unfortunate victims.
while the teasing and mean remarks were an unfortunate constant in her life, this never mellowed ellie. she was always quick-witted, her slight temper always having her ready to argue back and stand up for herself, and this time was no different.
ellie rises from the ground and delivers an equally hard shove, an irate, "what the fuck is your problem?" leaving her chapped lips. being the drama-obsessed hive mind that high schoolers were, it didn't take long for people to start crowding around the two once things intensified.
you had been watching the whole thing from afar before a wall of people began forming, not realising it'd evolve into this. you heard a pained groan rip from ellie's throat after what you presumed was the first punch being thrown. now you are only able to listen to the commotion but not see the situation, making your anxiety skyrocket.
you liked to keep an attentive eye on ellie from a distance despite your paths rarely crossing, feeling some strange obligation to watch over her. you knew quinn and her posse of assholes always gave ellie a hard time, but she seemed to handle herself just fine, sometimes hearing one of her clever comebacks that made you giggle.
while the brawl entertained everyone else, you grew increasingly agitated. you were never one for drama and kept a relatively peaceful circle of friends, but the idea of just standing and doing nothing felt like a personal failure.
so, before you knew it, you were excusing yourself from your friends and pushing your way through the crowd to get to ellie.
once you breached the crowd, you found yourself in the eye of the storm, your eyes wide. after a while of their struggle against each other, quinn was now situated on top of ellie as she delivered a particularly hard punch to ellie's cheek. the wounded groan she let out was what urged you out of your frozen shock, rushing towards the tangle of violent limbs, grabbing quinn's shoulder and pulling her off of ellie with a hard tug.
"get the hell away from her!" you yell, trying hard to ignore the disappointed groans of the audience as you interrupt their entertainment. "assholes." you thought to yourself.
wiping the blood from her nose, the sight of the trickling crimson more satisfying to you than it should be, quinn looks at you confused, clearly not expecting you of all people to come to ellie's rescue.
"the fuck are you doing?" she sneers, looking between you and ellie, who is still on the floor, propping herself up on her elbows with the nastiest glare you'd ever seen on her face. "don't tell me you actually give a shit about this loser-"
"back off, don't touch her," you snarled, pushing past her to kneel beside ellie on the ground.
you had this untouchable air about you, something that was a little lost on you but not to quinn. she knew you had people to back you up, her targets usually being the loner outcast types, being the coward she is. the same ruthlessness ellie received was not given to you, an irritated scoff being all you heard from quinn. she was the least of your worries right now.
"are you okay?" you ask, a little breathless from the adrenaline of putting yourself in the middle of a fight in front of an audience. your brows furrowed at how quickly deep purples and blues had already started blooming around ellie's eye and her freckled cheek.
ellie looked at you blankly, her mouth opening and closing like a fish, and she tried desperately to find any words to say to you. how was she supposed to think straight? the rush from the fight and now having her crush come to her aid rendered her speechless. her lack of answer only worried you more, pinning her silence on being stunned from the fight still.
"ellie, i need you to answer-"
you were cut off by the sound of the principal pushing his way through the mass, his stern voice demanding that the two battered girls follow him to his office.
you watch doe-eyed and nervous as ellie pushes herself off the floor with a wince, looking at you with eyes that have so much to say yet a mouth that cannot quite verbalise it. but she couldn't stay, so without a word, she reluctantly trudged behind the principal with her head hanging low, utterly fed up, and man, that one punch hurt.
˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖
you peered around the corner to the row of chairs lined up outside the principal's office, eyes fixated on ellie's slumped figure occupying one of them. you had been watching for at least a minute or two now despite there being the opportunity to approach her like any other normal person. but this was comfortable for you, familiar. if ellie believed she was the only person with a staring problem, and she did, then she was painfully wrong.
it felt routine for you to watch her like this from afar, a look in your eyes brimming with so much more than just innocent curiosity.
it was like you could sense her presence in a room, your gaze always finding her so easily amongst the hoard of other students. your eyes would rake up and down as you shamelessly drank her in, that camo jacket of hers that she wore like a safety blanket hanging loosely from her frame. she wore it infuriatingly well, paired with her unbothered demeanour that looked oh so good on her. a witty remark was always ready on the tip of her tongue when one of her tormentors dared to speak to her, her scarred brow furrowing into a scowl that made your stomach flutter.
you knew what cuteness aggression was, but that surely couldn't be what you felt now. but it made you mad how badly ellie affected you even from a distance, what was once just a silly hallway crush twisting into a near-violent obsession. you spied her fresh bruises, almost filling you with a little satisfaction. serves her right, your voice whispers quietly inside your head, as if you were scared someone could hear you. you almost wished you had been the one to give her the bruises only so you could plant two gentle kisses over the skin to soothe the sting afterwards. the deep plum colour blooming across her skin still somehow made her look pretty, and you had to take a moment to ask yourself if that was a fucked up thing to think. probably.
suddenly becoming aware of how much of a creep you must look, lingering but not daring to approach, you decided to finally go check on her. it wouldn't feel right for you not to ensure she was okay.
ellie wonders how hard she was punched when she looks up to see you, a concerned and bashful smile on your face.
"hey, ellie. i just wanted to check on you after what happened with… y'know."
ellie spends a moment in silence as she processes what's happening. you're fidgeting with your hands, rocking back and forth on your heels like you don't know what to do with yourself. she could have scoffed in bewilderment, as if you had any right to look so nervous standing in front of her, effortlessly beautiful and so sweet.
"ellie?" you repeat her name again, softer this time. ellie almost wants to stay silent just to hear you repeat it. but she needs to respond, fuck think, think, think-
"o-oh, hey. i uh- yeah, i'm okay. nothing i can't handle," ellie finally manages to get out. you nod in acknowledgement, tearing your eyes away for just a moment to compose yourself.
"do you mind if i sit?" you gesture to the empty chair beside her, which has her perking up almost immediately. ellie nods, a simple "sure," leaving her lips in a tone that sounded far more curt than nonchalant like she intended. really, she was just trying to focus on not bursting at the seams. you were so close to her, and now she had to keep her cool.
"thanks for stepping in earlier and pulling her off of me. you didn't have to do that."
"i wasn't just gonna stand there and watch it happen," you say it like that wasn't what anyone else would have done, what they did do. all more than happy to watch her get her ass beat just to spice up what otherwise would have been another boring school day.
"i'd say i held my own somewhat well," ellie quips, her tone a little lighter than before. you giggle softly, deciding not to remind her that she had been floored by the time you got to her. she had definitely lost the fight, and in her defence, that girl was notoriously scrappy, but fortunately for you, she made losing look so good. holding herself up on her elbows, the meanest look on her dishevelled face as she stared up at the girl with an unwavering glare.
"and what did the principal have to say about that?" you press for details, head tilting curiously. you looked like a puppy, sitting all cute and pretty next to her. ellie swore you were trying to kill her; such a simple movement made her heart rate spike.
"got a firm slap on the wrist and the usual 'you're better than this' speech." you hum in acknowledgement, a breath of a laugh exhaling through your nose.
"well, for what it's worth, i think you gave her what she deserved." your statement caught her off guard, and she was not expecting you to condone any of what went down earlier.
"oh, you think?"
"oh definitely. the only time i see her is when she's making some poor person's life hell. i'm glad to see her get a taste of her own medicine."
ellie couldn't argue with that, shrugging in agreement as she tried to keep the pride bubbling up in her chest at bay.
"i am a little surprised, though. i wasn't expecting you to entertain a fight with her." this makes ellie raise her eyebrow inquisitively. did she not look tough enough to be in a fight or something? she knew she was nerdy, but surely she didn't look utterly defenceless, right?
"how come?" she questions, leaning back more comfortably in her chair, legs settling into her usual manspread that had you reeling just from seeing it from a distance, never mind being right next to her. your eyes darted around the hallway, desperately trying to focus on the conversation.
"well, y'know, i see you around, and you're usually so…" you trail off as you wave your hands in soft, fluid motions, whimsical and a little silly as you try to explain the softer side of her you had always noticed in what looked like some strange interpretive dance.
"but back there, you were all like-" you're swinging your arms a little more frantically now, a poor recreation of some generic karate moves. you would feel like a total idiot and you very much do if it wasn't for the cheesy smile spreading across ellie's face at the sight of you.
"yeah?" she feels like she's getting lightheaded from how giddy she feels.
"yeah." you parrot back sheepishly, twiddling your thumbs to ground yourself. so cute.
all ellie seemed to be good for was being riled up by the other students, so hearing that you had acknowledged her enough to make up your own mind about her made her feel like she was short circuiting. she was quickly snapped out of her temporary high when she felt a sharp sting on the side of her face, her sappy smile irritating her bruises.
"shit, are you okay?" you ask worriedly as she tries to brush it off with a wave of her hand.
"yeah yeah, i'm fine; this could've been way worse. you don't need to worry." her thoughts didn't quite match up with her words, though, silently begging that you'd keep doting on her. she was basking in having your undivided attention.
"ellie, these bruises are pretty big, i'm allowed to worry after i watched you get your ass handed to you," you ramble, ignoring her dismissal.
"hey! she didn't have that much of an upper hand against me-"
you don’t reply, your hand absentmindedly reaches out to cup her jaw, being careful not to press into where it hurts as you inspect her injuries.
"has anybody checked over you yet?"
she feels like she's on fire, palms sweaty as she silently lets you examine her. she barely managed to respond to your question with a simple "no." she swore she could feel everywhere your eyes landed on her face, and fuck, your hand is so warm. the mess of a girl was surprised that steam wasn't radiating from where your skin met.
as you give her face a final once over, you catch that frazzled deer-in-headlights look in her eyes and realise what you were doing, immediately removing your hand. if ellie wasn't frozen in place, she would have chased your touch, already missing the feeling of you on her skin.
"s-sorry, i just- i didn't mean to touch you out of nowhere. i was checking for my own peace of mind and got carried away-"
"no!" ellie interrupts a little louder than she meant to. "i mean, it's totally fine," her voice is shaking, "thank you for caring. you don't even really know me, and you're doing all this for me, so thank you."
her abruptness halts your apologetic rambling. you look at her wide-eyed for a moment before letting a soft little smile tug up the corner of your lips. if only she knew just how well you'd come to know her from all of your stolen glances, committing her to memory like she would disappear.
"don't mention it."
silence falls over you, both fidgeting shyly as you struggle to find something else to say. but that was okay. the giddy smiles you were both biting back said everything they needed to.
"i should probably get back to class, i've been holding this hall pass hostage for a while so i could come to check on you." you huff out a little disappointed sigh, reluctant to leave now that you'd finally been able to talk to ellie after so long spent longingly glancing in her direction.
"oh right, sorry. don't let me keep you, like i said i'm fine, really." ellie felt herself deflate a little now that she knew you had to go. the word pathetic came to mind when she realised how silly she must have looked, sulking like a kicked dog.
"i'm glad you're okay, ellie. i'll um… i'll see you around, yeah?" you couldn't help the hopefulness seeping through your words, and ellie noticed. the slight lilt in your sweet voice, your awkward shifting as you stood up, ready to leave.
"yeah, i'll see you around." ellie smiled up at you, ignoring the sharp twinge where her bruises were. maybe she should get beat up more often if it meant getting your attention.
#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams#tlou#tlou2#loser!ellie#ellie williams fluff#angelsknifeprty’s blog !! ⭑🖋˚⋆˚✿˖°。
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Closed Doors



SUMMARY: everyone thinks House and the sweet, gentle doctor hate each other—but behind closed doors, they’re far more than colleagues. when Wilson accidentally catches them in a heated moment, the secret they’ve been hiding threatens to unravel.
WORD COUNT: 1,116 words
PAIRING: greg house x reader
WARNINGS: a little heated moment but nothing too bad.

The corridor buzzed with the low hum of activity—nurses ferrying charts, pagers beeping intermittently, and hushed discussions about patient vitals. Amid it all, one thing remained a constant: Gregory House limping through the hallway like a tornado in tweed, cane tapping rhythmically, sarcasm trailing in his wake.
This morning was no exception.
“Foreman, try not to kill the patient with your god complex before I get a proper look at his scan,” House barked, brushing past his team without so much as slowing down.
“Good morning to you too,” murmured the woman trailing behind them, her voice soft enough to be overlooked—but with a hint of dry amusement that rarely went unnoticed by House.
She was the anomaly of the hospital. The type of doctor who remembered birthdays, lent pens, and somehow always had a stash of calming tea in her drawer. To patients and colleagues alike, she was the kind face of Princeton-Plainsboro—except, of course, to House, who made a daily ritual of riling her up with snide remarks and questionable nicknames.
“She’s got the bedside manner of a fairy godmother and the IQ of a well-trained golden retriever,” he’d said once. Loudly. In front of Cuddy.
She’d smiled sweetly and replied, “You’re just mad I’ve never let you borrow a pen.”
What no one knew—what absolutely no one could guess—was that behind the sarcasm, the sideways glances, the deliberately loud arguments… House was very much involved with her.
Behind closed doors.
And she, for all her angelic exterior, could match him wit for wit when no one was around to witness it.
It had started six months ago. A late-night consult, an empty hallway, and an unexpected kiss that left them both stunned and more than a little breathless.
Since then, they’d perfected the art of secrecy. The stolen moments in diagnostics. The lingering touches disguised as accidental. The occasional post-lunch escape to House’s office under the guise of “arguing about lab results”.
To the rest of the hospital, especially Wilson, their dynamic was obvious: House was being House, and she, poor thing, was just the latest target of his relentless teasing.
Wilson had once even said, “Honestly, mate, I don’t know how she hasn’t stabbed you with a scalpel by now.”
House had only shrugged and replied, “Maybe she’s saving it for Christmas.”

It was Tuesday afternoon when Wilson started to suspect something wasn’t quite right.
He’d passed House’s office and caught the tail end of laughter—her laughter, rich and warm, the kind no one else at the hospital ever seemed to coax out of her. Curious, Wilson lingered near the door. The blinds were drawn, but he could hear movement. A low chuckle. Muffled voices.
And then silence.
Frowning, he knocked.
“House?” he called out.
No response.
He tried the door.
It was unlocked.
The scene that greeted him upon entry froze him mid-step.
House, jacket discarded and shirt rumpled, sat on the edge of his desk, locked in a very enthusiastic embrace with the very doctor Wilson had been certain loathed him. Her hands were tangled in House’s hair, his cane discarded somewhere near the filing cabinet, and their lips—
“Oh, God,” Wilson muttered, instantly averting his gaze and turning on his heel. “I—Nope. I did not see that. I did not see that.”
House, entirely unbothered, detached his mouth long enough to smirk, “Your timing is impeccable, as always.”
She, however, buried her face in House’s shoulder and let out an embarrassed groan. “We’re going to have to kill him, aren’t we?”
“Tempting,” House murmured, dropping a kiss to her forehead. “But I need him to cover for clinic duty.”

Later that evening, after the drama had settled and the blinds were open once more, Wilson sat across from House, arms folded.
“You’ve been sleeping with her?”
House leaned back, tossing a rubber ball against the wall. “Only in the literal sense about fifty percent of the time.”
“Does she know you’re emotionally stunted?”
“Shockingly, yes. Turns out sarcasm and emotional repression are her love languages.”
Wilson scrubbed a hand over his face. “I genuinely thought you hated each other.”
“Technically we do,” House replied, ever smug. “But we hate everyone else more. It’s romantic.”

The next day, whispers trickled through the hospital. Nothing concrete, just vague observations. The way House had taken his coffee from her hand without comment. The way she’d rolled her eyes, but not with annoyance—with familiarity.
Someone even claimed they’d seen her leaving his office with a tie in her hand.
Of course, nothing was confirmed. Nothing could be.
House still insulted her in front of patients.
She still told him to sod off when he pushed her buttons in diagnostics.
But if you looked closely—really closely—you’d catch the smallest things.
The way her eyes lingered a moment too long.
The way his smirk softened when he thought no one was watching.
And the way she always knocked twice before entering his office.
Even though it was never locked.

A/N: I guys i hope you like this one!! I actually had it in my drafts and just didin't post it. This is a little different for what I usually write but i still hope people from other fandoms like it!!
#reader insert#imagines#fanfic#oneshots#gregory house#greg house#greg house x reader#gregory house x reader#house md#dr. house#james wilson#romance#writing
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The wonderful wizard Ozz. I have had this concept stuck in my head like a worm!
Could you imagine a Darling escaping from their Yan, not to run but just to feel the rain on their skin? I've been consuming this prompt like a heroin addict and I can't seem to get enough!
Yandere! Male x Willing! Reader

If I were to expand your prompt, I quite like the idea of a Yandere that can't really go full yandere because Reader is just too willing. He loves yandere content and can very much relate, but none of the escalations can happen if, well, the object of his obsessive affection doesn't protest in the first place. Is it too far fetched from what you'd imagined? Let me elaborate content: gender neutral reader, parody, When you want to be a Yandere, but your Darling unfortunately cooperates
The Yandere has been stalking Darling for months. Journal entries, walls plastered with photos (and the occasional creepshots), recordings. He just can't get enough of his Darling. He loves everything about you and can barely function throughout the day, fantasizing about your life together.
Enough is enough and he finally decides to make you his. He's been consuming media of similar tropes, with obsessed men pleading for a chance and having to force their way in because of rejection and fear. He's prepared for everything. Your tears, your trembling voice, your hands pushing him away. He finds you, approaches you and confesses his feelings, knuckles white as he grips his fists in anticipation. Your eyes widen for a moment, before narrowing in a smile. "I had no idea! Sure, I'll go out with you." Huh? Wait. This wasn't...this wasn't in the plan. Somehow he'd been certain you'd refuse. He must've mumbled the last part out loud, because you respond with "Why would I say no?"
A very good point indeed. You will change your mind, however, once you learn the extent of his love. You're holding his hand and following along as he takes you to his place, completely and utterly unaware of what you're about to witness. He can't truly be your boyfriend if he has to hide his very nature, after all. You might be disgusted, frightened, offended. He can already hear your screams, demanding explanations. It's all out of love. "It's okay if you don't understand", he mumbles to himself, watching your frozen body as you gaze into his room. You take a couple of steps towards the nearest wall, tracing the hundreds of images with your fingers. "Wow. You never mentioned being into photography", you remark, impressed. "It's like an exhibition! But...you might have to work on your angles", you blurt out, a little embarrassed, pointing to one of the creepshots. "This isn't very flattering. Did you take it in a hurry? It makes my legs look disproportionate." He can only stare, taken aback. "S-sorry" is all he manages.
Okay, but don't imagine your life will continue as usual. You've only seen a glimpse of his adoration. Now that you're officially dating, he cannot allow anyone else to have access to you. You have to understand, he cannot protect you properly if you're not under his watch all the time. As much as he cherishes you, he will have to be rough if needed. That's what he tells himself as he shoves the required tools in the trunk of his car, speeding towards your apartment. Once there, he fidgets on the sofa, considering his speech. You seem to be just as uneasy - perhaps you're predicting what's to come? - casting your eyes down and giving short answers. "I think you should move in with me." He states solemnly. You gasp and throw a hand over your mouth, and tears quickly well in the corner of your eyes. "How did you...how did you know?" You say between sobs. Huh? "I didn't want to burden you with my problems, seeing as we just started dating...but my landlord won't renew the lease. I was so scared I'd be homeless."
He clicks his tongue. This isn't very yandere, more like the average couple experience. You bring the final moving box to his car, fitting it in the trunk. "By the way, what's with all the rope?" you ask. "Just move it aside", he sighs. How can he explain it? He's been training, sweating and bleeding for a marathon and right before the whistle, they handed him the first prize. His muscles are aching for the sprint that never happened. Of course he's grateful to have you at last, but somehow he feels like he hasn't proven his dedication properly. You just don't get it, do you? How sickening his love is for you.
As the days pass, he eases into his role of...how does one even call it? Pseudo-captor? When you found his journal, you blushed and confessed how no one before him put this amount of effort into knowing you. All the male contacts from your phone vanishing? It was about time you cleaned up your acquaintances and it was nice of him to help. The AirTags he's hidden in your bags and pockets? You appreciate his safety concerns. Nowadays, with all these perverts freely walking the streets, you can never be too sure.
One morning he wakes up to an empty bed. He jolts up, dazed. Could it be his wish was finally granted? You must've gotten tired of him and tried to escape. Oh, silly little Darling love. You should've known there's no more walking out once you said yes. He checks his phone and pounces out, ready for the hunt. As he sprints along the street, he finds you suspiciously close to his home. Not very smart of you to...what are you even doing? Your hands are raised up, fingers fanned out under the pouring rain. You notice his presence and turn to face him with a wide, childish grin. "I haven't done this since I was a child. When was the last time you felt the rain on your skin?" Only now it occurs to him he's been running in this downpour and his clothes are soaked. He was too focused on finding you.
"I thought you escaped", he almost whispers. "Escape? From what?" You tilt your head in confusion. He places his cold, large hands over your cheeks. "Do you comprehend I'm very much obsessed with you? I'm not joking around. You're never, ever leaving me. You're stuck here forever. I mean it. I really do. I'd rather kill you with my own hands than let you go. Because I love you." You take a moment to admire the intricate patterns of his irises, pupils dilated in a spiraling madness. By the end of his erratic oration, he's panting and digging his nails into your skin.
"I know."
#yet another parody I'm so sorry#yandere#yandere x darling#yandere x reader#yandere x you#male yandere#male yandere x reader#yandere headcanons#yandere scenarios#yandere imagines#yandere obsession#obsessive love#tw yandere#yandere oc x reader#gender neutral reader#gn reader
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The Way You Look Tonight (Jack Abbot x reader)
This is a submission for @letsgobarbs @ananonymousaffair and @clubsoft A Doctor a Day creative event.
At this years hospital gala, Y/N has gotten herself roped into a charity auction at Gloria’s insistence. But at least she has Dr Abbot, Dr Robby, and Dana by her side.
Word Count: 1805
Y/N sighed as they ran her fingers through her freshly styled hair. She couldn’t believe she had gotten herself roped into this situation. She stood in front of her floor length mirror taking in the entire outfit. She didn’t think she had ever worn something as fancy as the silver floor length dress she currently wore. Not even for prom in high school. But it was her first hospital gala and she needed to impress. Not to mention Gloria had suckered her in for the Date with a Doctor fundraiser. The dress had a sweetheart neck with small straps, the silver glittered in the light, and there was a thigh high slit on her right side.
Her door bell rang and she quickly made her way down, somewhat uncomfortable in the heels she had bought to go with the outfit.
“Holy shit! You clean up nice.” Dana smiled as Y/N answered the door.
“So do you!” Y/N gasped taking in the deep navy blue gown Dana was wearing. “Is it normal to feel nauseous before these things?” Y/N said as she followed Dana out to her vehicle.
“It is when you know that a certain broody nightshift attending will be there.” Dana teased.
“Stop.” Y/N laughed. “You know there is nothing going on with me and Dr. Abbott. He is just my friend and colleague.”
“The flirting I have seen between the two of you at work would suggest otherwise.” Dana smiled as they started to drive them to the Wintergarden.
“It’s not flirting Dana, it’s friendly conversation.” Y/N insisted.
“Very friendly. Did you tell him about the Date with a Doctor thing?”
“It didn’t come up.”
“Oh Jack is going to lose his shit.”
“He will be fine, plus Gloria said most residents end up volunteering for it at least once.”
“Gloria lied honey. I promise you neither Robby or Abbott did the Date with a Doctor.”
Y/N groaned. “This is going to be miserable.”
“It’s just one date, and who knows you may find your Mr. Right, and hell if he wins it means he is probably rich.”
Y/N didn’t reply instead looking out the window. She would never say it outloud, but she had already felt like she had met Mr. Right, but she was convinced he didn’t see her as anything more than a friend.
Jack stood impatiently tapping his foot at the back of the room with Robby. He felt ridiculously standing in his black suit. It was the only suit he owned, and the only time he ever actually wore it was to these ridiculous events. And the only reason he owned it was because Robby had convinced him that he was far too old to keep renting a suit. The floor to ceiling windows always made him nervous, felt like there were far too many entry points or where things could go bad.
“Will you stop that, you are acting like a child.” Robby laughed.
“You know I hate being here, I just want to get it over with.” Jack sighed.
“We all hate being here brother, but at least we get fed. And hey, it’s Y/N’s first shindig, we can’t turn her off of them from the start.”
At the mention of her name, Jack felt his heart leap. He could feel the blood rush to his face as he tried to suppress his smile. He couldn’t wait to see her. Jack had caught her talking with Dana at work about the dress she bought and he had only begun to imagine how stunning she would look in it.
“Will you stop daydreaming about our girl? You are acting like a love sick teenager.” Robby teased.
Jack cleared his throat, straightening up his tie.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Oh don’t give me that shit. I know you have feelings for Y/N. And you aren’t super subtle about it.”
“We are friends Robby, I know that is a foreign concept to you, but that’s when two people just enjoy one another’s company.” Jack teased back.
“Except friends don’t make goo goo eyes at one another from across the Pitt.” Robby laughed. “And before you try to deny it. I was there that day and I watched Ellis almost have to wave her hand in front of her face to get your attention.”
“Fuck,” Jack said under his breath.
“What I don’t understand is why you haven’t asked her out yet. Everyone knows that she has feelings for you too.”
“What?” Jack asked. “Everyone knows?”
“Good God you both are so oblivious.”
“Who’s oblivious?” A voice asked and both of the men turned to see Y/N and Dana had walked in.
Jack had to fight the urge to let his jaw drop as he saw Y/N. She looked absolutely stunning.
“I… you…” He stumbled over his words.
“You both look amazing.” Robby quickly swooped in, saving Jack from his embarrassment.
“Thank you.” Y/N blushed, her eyes still locked on Jack’s.
“You two don’t look too shabby yourselves. It always is so strange seeing you both out of your scrubs.”
“I would much rather be in scrubs than in this penguin suit.” Jack complained but he still couldn’t take his eyes off of Y/N. “You do look beautiful.” He finally said and Y/N beamed.
Dana and Robby exchanged a look as Jack reached out and kissed Y/N hand.
“Well she better look damn good, Gloria roped her into the Date with a Doctor auction.” Dana said.
“What?” Jack snapped and Y/N glared at Dana, who just smiled mischievously.
“How the fuck did she convince you to join that” Robby barked with laughter.
“She told me both you and Jack had participated.” Y/N said her face red.
“Like fuck we did. I laughed in her face and said I would rather die before participating.” Jack said.
“This is going to be awful.” Y/N groaned.
“There she is.” A voice called and they all turned to see Gloria heading their way.
“Speak of the devil.” Robby said under his breath.
“I have some donors who are very interested in talking with you.” She said as she grabbed Y/N arm and led her away. Y/N looked back at the group, eyes wide with fear.
Jack had started to take a step towards her when Robby threw his hand up and stopped him.
“You do not want to get between Gloria and her money, trust me.” He smiled.
“She parading Y/N like she’s some kind of prized horse.” Jack grumbled.
“You didn’t bat an eye when Gloria did that to me two years in a row.” Dana laughed.
“That’s… I…” Jack stumbled.
“God you have got it so bad for Y/N.” Dana smiled playfully, hitting his arm.
“I do not.” He grumbled again acting almost like a toddler.
“Well let’s get to our seats before we are also roped into doing the donor rounds.” Robby said as he ushered them all towards the table. They were relegated to the back as they had been every year they had come. But Y/N was stuck up at the table with Glori doing her best to keep from looking around for Jack.
She was so uncomfortable trying her best to schmooze with the donors but all she wanted was to be with her people, Robby and Dana who made her feel safe, and Jack, Jack could make her feel like the only girl in the room.
“And now it comes to everyone's favorite program of the evening, the date with a doctor. Let’s get all of our lovely participants up to the stage.” The MC announced.
Y/N quickly looked back in one desperate attempt to find her friends, as she stood up, she finally saw them. Both Robby and Dana were giving her a thumbs up. Jack looked at her his eyes full of rage.
Everything felt like a blur as she stood up on the stage. She tried her best not to look as scared shitless as she felt.
“Dr. Y/N Y/L/N.” The voice called as she walked across the stage. Her eyes quickly looked out at the crowd as she plastered a fake smile on her face.
“Let’s start the bidding out at $500.”
A hand instantly shot up and Jack glared at him.
“Do I hear $750.”
Another hand shot up and again Jack’s attention turned to that person much to the amusement of both Dana and Robby.
“Do I hear $1000.”
“$2500” A voice called and Y/N’s eye went wide as she realized the voice was one she recognized and her eyes locked on Jack who had his hand held up.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Robby hissed the smile gone from his face.
“Winning a date with Y/N.” He said.
“Do I hear 3500?”
“5,000” another voice called and Jack turned to see an older man probably in his 60’s with his hand up.
Jack could see Gloria glaring at him but he didn’t care as he bid for $7500.
“Do I hear 8500?”
“8500” The other guy raised his hand.
“No,” Jack growled as he quickly raised his hand. “$10,000.”
“Do I hear $11,000?” The room was silent. “Going once, going twice, sold to the gentleman the back.”
The room erupted in applause but Y/N just stood dumbstruck on stage her eyes locked with Jack who just smiled at her.
Hon, you can get off the stage now.” A voice whispered to Y/N and she just nodded as she mindlessly started walking towards Jack still fully dazed at what just happened. Gloria was on her feet in an instant as she rushed to Jack.
“What the hell was that?” She snapped.
“Don’t worry about it Gloria, you can just take it out of my paycheck.” He said and Robby laughed behind him. But Jack’s focus was elsewhere. He was trying to find Y/N in the crowd having lost her when she left the stage.
“Are you insane?” A voice said and he turned to see Y/N coming towards him.
“Hey I think I just saved you from a horrible date with that old geezer and I…”
Y/N immediately pulled him in for a kiss.
“I was hoping it’d be you.” She smiled as they broke away. “I was standing up there and all I could think of was how much I wished you would win. But I didn’t expect you to spend $10,000 dollars on a date with me you could have gotten for free.” She teased.
“Darling, you are worth so much more than that.” He smiled as he pulled her in for another long kiss.
#jack abbot x reader#adad2025#adoctoraday#jack abbott x reader#dr jack abbot#jack abott#the pitt x you#the pitt fanfiction#the pitt x reader#the pitt hbo#the pitt
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