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novthirty · 1 month ago

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🐦‍⬛ OUT OF BOUNDS — you get isekai-d into the n109 zone [chapter two]

synopsis — the monotony of your university days is interrupted by a stroke of misfortune, one which lands you in the world of love and deepspace, the game you had been casually playing for the previous months. with no way to return home, sylus offers you the job of being his personal secretary. — a continuation of the one-shot “out of bounds”

pairing — sylus x non-mc! reader

tags — reader is not mc, isekai/transmigration, fluff, angst, mutual pining, slice of life, boss/employee relationship, slow burn

a/n — this chapter did not come easily to me</33 finals has been kicking my ass but i’m near the finish line at least!! for now here is a plate of teeth rotting fluff with a side of pining 💕 taking my time to develop their relationship, since it would take a lot for sylus’s heart to be swayed by someone other than the mc. but of course we’ll be back to the full angst by the next chapter ☺️☺️

ao3 | masterlist | requests are open! series masterlist | part one | part three

chapter two: pendulum— spring blooms even in the barren cityscape of the n109 zone, and before you know it, you’ve carved yourself a place in sylus’s life. but like a pendulum stuck in perpetual motion, the two of you swing back and forth— growing closer and retreating with every movement. wc: 6.8k

The arrival of spring marks four months since you stormed into Sylus’s life, upheaving everything in your path. From the moment you quite literally landed in his world, you had been a wildcard— blindsiding him at every turn. But the first time you intentionally surprise him comes when the clock strikes twelve on April 18, and he enters his office to find a cake on his desk. Decorated in black and maroon frosting, it’s lined with edible glitter and topped with his name in crooked cursive, and a crow-shaped candle, to boot. He takes a swipe— it’s a hint of cranberry and… wine?

Moments after, you stride in from behind with Luke and Kieran, carrying gifts and wearing patterned party hats, singing a terribly off-key rendition of the birthday song.

“Happy birthday, Sylus! Make a wish!”

He blows the candles and makes a wish. (There’s only ever been one thing he’s truly desired.)

“Do you like the cake? The chefs helped me decorate it!” You say as you slice it into even triangles, giving him the largest piece.

Luxurious as his precious office may be, it’s still a tight fit with the whole Onychinus family crammed inside. Luke and Kieran occupy the side chairs while you’re perched on his desk with Mephisto on your shoulder, wearing his own red party hat. (The crow stares menacingly at the crow-shaped candle left to the wayside.) You’re sitting right in his periphery, and his eyes drag downward from your oversized sweater, down to your exposed thighs clad in only shorts. His cheeks heat up and he averts his gaze, glad that you’re all too caught up in conversation to notice.

You hop off the desk once you clear your plate, clapping your hands together, “It’s present time!”

Luke and Kieran are dramatically solemn as they hand over their present, wiping away a fake tear, “We battled against hundreds of bidders to secure this for our beloved boss.”

Sylus takes the thin present, crudely wrapped with a cartoonish dinosaur paper, unravelling it to discover a vinyl record. A vintage edition, the last one missing from his collection of a late artist, one that you had likened to someone named Frank Sinatra whenever he would play it on the office sound system.

“It’s acceptable,” He says, but the twins have been with him enough to know that it’s Sylus language for ‘Thank you for this amazing gift, I will treasure it until my dying days.’ Or at least, that’s what they tell themselves as they dramatically jump in joy.

He initially didn’t expect you to bring a present— although with your personality, he should’ve known you’d be appalled at the idea of coming empty-handed. Throughout the celebration, his eyes are immediately drawn to your uncharacteristic nervousness, which you hide well under the veneer of a joyous mood. But he can spot you fidgeting with the strings of the ribbon, the way you hesitantly place the gift on his desk. It unnerves him to see your usual force of nature dimmed, looking like a scolded puppy with your tail low and eyes sheepish.

The package is thick and lumpy in his hand, yet perfectly wrapped with a ribbon to top it off. (You wouldn’t have stood for anything less.) He delicately undoes the ribbon, carefully unwrapping the gift to find a soft knitted cardigan, with a embroidered patch of a crow sewn onto the breast pocket.

“Did you make this yourself?” He asks, looking back up at you.

“Yeah,” You answer, shifting hesitantly from your spot on the desk.

You don’t have a lot to your name in this world, and for a man like Sylus— who can summon nearly anything he desires with a snap of his fingers— there wasn’t a whole lot you could give. So instead, you resorted to your knitting needles, pouring your heart and effort into every stitch using some of the softest yarn you knew of (which took several spools of, considering his size, and made a significant dent in your wallet). But the days leading up to the surprise celebration still wracked you with nerves. Would it look too frumpy on him? Would it look too simple? Would a man who prefers opulence even appreciate such a simple gift?

But Sylus runs his fingers carefully over each delicate stitch, unable to comprehend how every inch of this cardigan was made with your own bare hands. People will bend over backwards to earn his favor, but no one has ever put so much genuine effort and care just to make him happy, on such a measly event as a birthday, no less.

He doesn’t know what to say as you await his reaction, caught off guard by the heartwarming gesture you’ve just given him. And so, he ends up detracting, “How did you get my measurements?” He narrows his eyes at you mischievously.

He spots the tick of your eyebrow as your face morphs from nervousness into annoyance. “I send in orders for your replacement clothes when they get ruined on missions,” His eyes dance with mischief as he looks away in mock skepticism. “What's that look for? How do you think I got them?!” It turns into banter— as it always does between the two of you— but inwardly, you feel relief when he wears the cardigan immediately.

The celebration is a silly endeavor that lasts no more than an hour before he kicks everyone out of his office. But try as he might, he can’t wipe the grin off his face for the rest of the day— nor does he take off the cardigan.

When May comes, you rope him into the preparations for Luke and Kieran’s birthday. Due to your incessant nagging, he’s since downloaded your shared digital calendar— complete with monthly, weekly, daily, and hourly agendas— and chosen to ignore it. “The calendar exists for you to be on time,” You seethe whenever he steps into his office late, the little shit smirking as if you didn’t just rearrange his schedule to hell and back for that one hour-long meeting he missed. However, that doesn’t mean he’s exempt from any festivities you enforce upon the household.

The twins’ celebration is a significantly more chaotic affair than his, involving a two tiered cake and a booking for a laser tag arena. The event is more so you and Sylus babysitting the two hellions as they wreak havoc upon the civilians unfortunate enough to encounter them. It ends with a trip to the medical ward and a formal apology to the owner of the arena. But despite the casualties, it’s the most fun Luke and Kieran have had since they joined Onychinus. (Fun that wasn’t self-orchestrated, at least).

Your presence brings a liveliness to his found family, something that grounds you all in this high-paced line of work. A presence that, little by little, seeps into his life to the point he can no longer imagine living without it.

—————————————————————

“Is this payback for nagging you too much?” You huff after squeezing yourself into another ruffled monstrosity.

He lounges on the plush sofa like it’s his throne, swirling a glass of wine in his hands as he watches your suffering like live entertainment. He belongs here, you think, surrounded by opulence and marbled floors. A dragon surrounded by treasures.

As if it wasn’t enough that you make sure his life keeps running smoothly, Sylus recently enlightened you with the task of accompanying him to the next protocore auction. With your closet still bare of anything other than essentials, you tried to beg off the event with the excuse of having nothing to wear— only for him to drag you to a fancy boutique. You should’ve expected it from the rich bastard. “If you don’t want to go, you can just tell me. No need to make excuses,” He drawled. “It's not like you have a choice either way, Miss Secretary.”

Being raised in a middle-class household, your eyes widened at the array of extravagant dresses brought out for your perusal. The fanciest place you had been to up until now was the chain seafood restaurant down the block from your family home. The staff led you to a private dressing room, where you were now trying on a number of lavish dresses and shoes.

“Slave driver,” You cursed him under your breath, as you strapped yourself into another pair of heels behind the curtain.

“No one's forcing you to wear heels,” He calls from the lounging area, hearing your struggle. “With me by your side, you could wear pajamas and no one would dare say a word.”

You stood up, balancing yourself on the thin heel and peeking out the curtain to glare at him, “I have willpower. If you’re dragging me to a fancy auction I will not look unprofessional next to you.”

He rolls his eyes, “Sure, darling. Whatever you say.”

You muttered that to yourself for the next hour or so, I have willpower! as you tried on a number of ridiculously uncomfortable (especially for how expensive they were) garments. You believed yourself a little less with each one.

Eventually, you settle on an elegant black dress, a practical and comfortable choice that would fit multiple occasions. He insists that you could have chosen something more extravagant; but considering this was on Sylus’s card, you didn’t want to push your luck with the price tags. He goes to the cashier to pay as you’re changing, only for you to come out to thrice the number of bags.

“This is not… just the dress and heels I tried on,” Your shoulders tense, peering into the bags and spotting the other pieces you mentioned liking, as well as more luxurious everyday items you never even glanced at, considering the purpose of your trip here was for formal wear.

“I figured it would be practical. This won’t be the last event you’ll be accompanying me to, after all,” You internally withered as he smirked at you knowingly, “Besides, you did say your closet was looking bare, hm? Let's fix that.”

What you thought would be a quick trip turns into hours as he insists on buying you new clothes. “Everyone employed under Onychinus has a uniform budget,” He reasons with you.

For mission gear and weapon repairs, you want to retort. You narrow your eyes every time you come out of the changing room to see twice the number of things you initially picked out. Your discomfort only grows with each stop, every shopping bag serving as a reminder of the exorbitant costs.

By the time you get back to the compound, you intentionally look away from any receipts for your own peace of mind, instead getting to the pile of work waiting for you at home. (Home. When did this place become home?) Memorizing important guests and clients, researching proper etiquette, learning enough about protocores to not seem like a total fool at Sylus’s side. “I'm a liberal arts student, I wasn’t built for this shit,” You mutter as you flip through scientific records that look like a foreign language. You miss when protocores were just colored shapes that made your team overpowered.

Even with all the preparation you’ve done, you still find yourself wracked with nerves on the day of the auction. Though, you think you’re doing a good job of hiding it, sipping wine at Sylus’s side as he peruses the various protocores on display. Fortunately, you haven’t had to do much talking; your role so far has been taking notes and pulling up important documents when needed.

You feel out of place in the lavish ballroom, but then again, you feel out of place in this world in general. You manage to mingle and socialize with the contacts you’re familiar with, but as the hours pass you start regretting your choice of footwear. Sylus, of course, notices. “Let's take a break,” He says halfway through the night. You follow him to a lounging room, taking a seat as he leaves to grab drinks, when a man approaches you.

You vaguely know of him, having communicated with him— or rather, his secretary— through emails on official Onychinus business before. It’s a light conversation, he asks you where you’re from, why you’re here. You can tell his intentions by the way he leans forward, eyes glittering as his cologne invades your senses (You desperately try not to breathe in the overpowering scent). You decide to indulge him as you wait for Sylus to return; he seems nice enough, after all.

Right until you mention that you’re Sylus’s secretary. All of a sudden, his gaze turns steely and derisive— as if you’re no longer a prize to be won, but something beneath him. His compliments turn into insinuations of your character, “Some people really know how to… position themselves, huh?” He shamelessly takes a step closer, a lecherous grin on his face, “Maybe you should start thinking about who to… align with next.”

You’ve never been a hot-headed person. But standing here, being belittled at what’s supposed to be a formal, respectable occasion, is not something your parents ever taught you to tolerate. “Excuse me, but that is extremely rude and I'd like for you to leave this table,” You respond coldly. “My boss will be returning any time soon.”

This only fuels his disparaging comments, your fist tightening against the table as he continues to degrade you to your face. Behind the two of you, Sylus overhears everything. His fist tightens around the stem of his glass as he marches over, prepared to strike it against his head— but as always, you never fail to surprise him at every turn.

It takes one more crude comment to break the camel’s back; a woman can only have so much patience. You grab his glass and throw the wine in his face, his expression morphing into one of disbelief and anger. “Leave me alone before I find something else to throw at your face,” You spat.

The scene attracts attention from the other guests in the room as the man curses at you, pulling a gun out of his left pocket. You step back, heart bursting out of your chest at the sight of the weapon.

Before he can even aim, Sylus has already stepped in, grabbing the pistol with one hand and his neck with the other. “Ah, here I was thinking that the rules clearly stated no weapons,” His grip tightens as the man chokes in his grip, “Lucky for me, I only need my fists.”

Though it may have been lifetimes ago, Sylus's draconic tendencies still show through his temper— and less often, his desire to protect. The moment this rat intended to hurt you, his vision turned red and his fists were no longer under his control.

It takes your pleas to stop and Sylus nearly strangling the man before security steps in, called by passing onlookers who’d observed the entire incident. The man was powerful and could have gotten away with threats, maybe even plain murder, if only it weren’t Sylus that he crossed. “An insult to her is an insult to me,” He admonishes the organizers as they bow in apology after the whole ordeal. All the while, you’re shrinking underneath the piercing gazes of those who witnessed the events unfold.

The incident is enough for him to call it a night. You breathe a sigh of relief as you step outside. Though you were shivering inside the air-conditioned ballroom, the balmy air now brushes against your skin, summer humidity taking its course after a fleeting spring. Your heels clack against the pavement, feet dragging with every aching step as your new heels haven’t broken in yet. Sylus had forgone his usual motorcycle and had a private driver bring the two of you to the event, but with your early departure, you were left to walk aimlessly around Linkon City as you wait for the car.

“The event was rather disappointing, really.” He languidly commented, as if he didn’t nearly strangle a man blue.

“No shit, considering you beat someone up.” You huffed, crossing your arms and walking ahead of him. “You've been eyeing one of the protocores on their display for a while. Now your plans have been derailed—“

“Darling, if they’re not competent enough to screen their guests properly, then they have no business selling protocores.”

“But still, this man is your business associate,” Your brows furrow as you rub your forearms, goosebumps forming from the breeze passing by. “This incident is going to cause you unnecessary trouble.”

His footsteps stop, and you turn around to face him— an uncharacteristically solemn look on his face as he takes off his jacket and drapes it across your shoulders. He says your name, “He pulled a gun on you. Do not think I won't prioritize your safety above my business ventures.” The man wasn’t even worth using his evol for, succumbing pathetically to his mere grip. His lost partnership is nothing to Onychinus.

You shuffle your feet guiltily, drowning in the oversized blazer. Sylus offers his arm to you, “Come on. Let’s find somewhere to eat, shall we?”

You take refuge at a family-owned diner a few blocks down, the smell luring you in with the promise of greasy food. The two of you stick out like a sore thumb, with your floor-length dress and his suit, as some of the only customers left in the last hour before closing. The analog television in the corner drones with some football game, as you and Sylus feast on burgers and milkshakes after a night of experimental hors d’oeuvres you couldn’t even pronounce.

You’re dead at your feet, too weary to care much about your surroundings since you left the venue. To your surprise, it’s Sylus who breaks the silence, “I apologize for what happened earlier.” You look up in surprise, “You’ve been silent for the better part of the night, I didn’t realize it bothered you this greatly.”

The guilt slowly crept up on him, seeing how shaken you were after the incident. He forgets sometimes, that not everyone has been exposed to the dangers of his world. You were a civilian— and not only that, a good person. Soft and averse to violence in a way he never had the privilege to be. Though you may work for him now, it was only from the safety of the Onychinus compound, shielded from the darker elements of his job.

You smile wearily, “I'm just tired, don’t worry.” You set your burger down and fiddle with your hands, “To be honest… it did bother me. I've always been taught that violence should be a last resort, to only use as much force as the situation demands.

“But you’re right. There's a lot I don't understand about this world… but I know that if you’d stepped in a moment later, it could’ve gone much worse.” There’s more to the N109 Zone than the storyline you’d grown familiar with in your world, or the distant image you’ve formed from the safety of Sylus’s office. Like it or not, this would be your home for the foreseeable future, and you can’t live on the same moral framework you once did.

He smirks, “And what would I have done without my dearest secretary?”

You raise your milkshake snootily, “Crash and fall apart, of course.”

It eases into light banter after that, something more familiar to the both of you. At some point, you even accidentally spill sauce onto his blazer still laying atop your shoulders. “Oops, sorry,” You apologize without an inch of remorse in your voice.

He’s quick to retort, “Ah yes, my designer blazer of which there were only five made in production.”

You roll your eyes and drone sarcastically, “Oh no, the millionaire stained his limited edition jacket, boo hoo.”

“I’d like you to know—” He starts again after taking a bite of his burger, looking comically serious despite the small crumb by his cheek. You suppress the urge to wipe it off for him. “—as much as I admire your courage to stand up to a man a head taller than you, I'd rather you not throw drinks at crime lords unless I'm by your side. Not even my name could protect you if he pulled out that gun even a moment earlier.”

Though he’s managed to keep you relatively out of the spotlight, after tonight, there was bound to be more eyes on you. As much as his name affords you power and protection, it also paints a target on your back. He appreciates that you don’t stand for that kind of disrespect, but he will always put his foot down when your safety is on the line.

You take a deep breath in, looking out the window to the soft streetlights and the clear stars of a summer night. “That was really reckless of me, I know that. I appreciate that you came to my defense, and I won't do it again. It’s just that…” You turn to face him once again, giving a lighthearted shrug, “Sometimes, this whole world still feels like a dream to me. That my actions won’t matter in the end, no consequences. That any moment now, I'll wake up, and…”

You trail off. You like to avoid that train of thought when you can.

“Your presence is more important than you think,” He mutters your name. Not Miss Secretary, not darling or dear, but your name. “So, you can’t disappear on me anytime soon.” I still need you around, goes unsaid.

The clock strikes ten and the owners kick you out, “You lovebirds better get home, the trains will be running their last stop anytime soon.” Neither of you step in to correct them, bidding the elderly couple a good night.

For a minute, you’re lost in the haze of a starry sky and a full stomach, humming a song from your old world— when suddenly, you trip over a step you didn’t see, comically twisting and falling on your butt.

He starts with a chuckle and evolves into booming laughter, Sylus absolutely losing it as you pout in offense, “You’re absolutely insufferable!” You exclaim as he cackles at your attempts to get up on the thin heel of your shoe. You’ve never seen Sylus like this, even in the game. Eyes sparkling under the glow of the streetlights, bellowing with genuine uncontrollable laughter.

You begrudgingly accept his hand even as he uses the other one to wipe his tears. “It was not that funny,” You huff— but his laugh is so ridiculous you can’t help but giggle. You continue walking, his hand never leaving yours.

Midsummer is marked by the longest days of the year, of perpetual sunshine and the drone of cicadas. The N109 Zone was anything but that, the total antithesis to what was once your home. But under this night sky— surrounded by good food and good company, the weight of his stare and his hand clutched in yours— you think that maybe, just maybe, nights could be enough for you, as well.

—————————————————————

Over the blinding camera flashes and the roar of jeering crowds, you hold tight to the bouquet in your arms, jumping and cheering for Sylus even though you have absolutely no clue what’s going on.

It was a few days before that you stepped into his private boxing ring and found out about his upcoming match. “I don't know why I'm surprised. I bet no one knows it's actually the big bad Onychinus leader up there in the ring. You probably have some stage name, no? Something corny like dragon or crow.” His deadpan stare tells you all you need to know, “How original.”

Despite your less than enthusiastic response, like a proud parent, you still show up to the day of the match with a bouquet and a vintage camera you scavenged from the compound. “Smile for the picture!” You holler from outside the rope as he wraps his fist in tape, a deadpan stare meeting the flash.

“What are you doing here?” He jumps the rope to meet you at the sidelines, the stands slowly filling in behind you, “This isn’t in your job description, you know.”

“I know that? I scavenged through that contract for any loophole to get out of your auctions, just so you know,” You scoffed, setting your bag down with a thump on the grimy cement floors. " Of course I'm gonna be here, it’s your match!” You blabber on about the flowers, how they’re supposed to mean fortune and good luck. But his thoughts are otherwise occupied.

He had thought this might be a little… juvenile, for you, watching two grown men beating each other up for a medal and prestige. It seems like an activity you’d be distasteful of, but you’re here, you showed up and… are decked with all sorts of essentials, apparently. He peers into the bag to find a first aid kit fit for war, enough towels to supply a family, an electric fan, all stuffed inside a misleadingly small tote bag. His heart stutters in his chest. Not even the twins or Mephisto attend his matches.

When the event officially starts, you stay at his corner the whole time; from his pre-fight rituals to pep-talking during downtime, dabbing at his sweat and blasting an electric fan over him as the coach reams his ass. His own personal cheerleader supporting him from outside the ring (never mind the fact you couldn’t tell whether he was winning or not).

It’s hard to watch, having to cringe and look away as Sylus gets brutally socked in the face, blood splattering out of his mouth as the crowds yell to finish him. It’s even harder to watch him in the locker room afterwards, head down and pride bruised.

“Let me patch you up,” You take a seat on the bench, dabbing a cotton with ointment to his split lip. You know his evol will heal everything by the time he gets home— but some bruises bloom where no one can see.

“My knuckles may be bruised, but I'm not incapacitated,” He glares at you as you bring out the ladybug-patterned bottle of ointment. Hmph. You thought it was cute. “Don’t you have more important things to do than play nurse?” His words cut more than usual, a light blow to your ego but you stand your ground.

“Unfortunately, my boss took the day off to go participate in modern day bloodsport. So no, actually. I don't have anything better to do.” You roll your eyes, twisting the bottle closed.

“Well, you must be disappointed. You’ve wasted your day off placing bets on a losing dog.”

He can’t hide the bitter taste in his mouth, not when he still hears the jeers of the crowd, still feels the pounding headache from being pummeled on the floor. His ambition has always been both his trump card and Achilles heel, and he wants nothing more than to push your comfort and reassurance away. (He doesn’t feel he deserves it.) But as always, you read him like a book.

“Hmph. Who says I bet on you?” You cheekily suggest.

He scoffs in offense, “I suggest you stop talking if you’d like to receive your paycheck intact.”

You smile and roll your eyes. There’s your Sylus. “It's still my job to be there, win or lose. Not as your secretary but as your friend. If it helps—“ You poke his cheek. “—you’re still my big, bad, scary boss. Even if I just witnessed you get beaten to a bloody pulp.”

He's so focused on watching you pack your things, that you startle him when you wrap your arms around him. He stiffens; it’s been far too long since he experienced physical contact that wasn’t drenched in violence. But he relaxes into it, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. “Come on, let’s go home.”

—————————————————————

The nights are endless and tiresome as your insomnia persists, but as months pass by with no sign of returning to your world, you learn ways to cope.

On some evenings, you decide to sneak into the kitchen, pulling out flour and eggs for all sorts of midnight snacks. It reminds you of a simpler, albeit more stressful time; taking a break in the wee hours of the morning, setting aside your notes to make comfort food with your roommate.

Sylus eventually discovers your nighttime activities, slipping into the kitchen to find you covered in flour, making enough cookies to feed an army. “It seems like a rat has snuck into the kitchen,” He teases, “You do realize we have private chefs on call, right? You could have ordered food if you were hungry.” Despite his words, he still rolls up his sleeves and grabs the bowl from your hands, mixing a stubbornly resistant batch of batter.

You silently accept the help and move on to shaping the cookies. With his help, the treats are in the unnecessarily massive oven and freshly baked within the next hour. The two of you spend the rest of the evening indulging in freshly baked cookies and talking about everything from work to the surprising amount of gossip intel you’ve accumulated about his business associates, until he asks you why you’re up this late.

“I was hungry,” You shrug, but he raises an eyebrow, knowing full well that you’re not telling the truth. You sigh, “You already know I have trouble sleeping. At least this way my hands are occupied..." These days you can’t even fall asleep at all, succumbing to deep exhaustion mere hours before your shift.

It hadn’t escaped Sylus’s notice, the way your eyebags have deepened, your movements sluggish and back hunched, even though your work remains the same quality. He'd insisted once, that you take a day off, but you’d laughed and said, “And do what? Explore the lovely sights of the N109 Zone?”

“As an employee of Onychinus, you have full access to the medical ward. You can schedule a doctor’s consultation, if that’s what you need,” He carefully suggests.

“That would be nice,” You answer noncommittally. You don’t know how much medicine differs between your world and his, but you probably have to get that done eventually.

The two of you clear a whole tray of cookies, leaving another for Luke and Kieran to feast on in the waking hours and cleaning the kitchen upon your insistence. “We have cleaners who can take care of this in the morning,” He complains.

“Hush, that would be rude,” You admonish him and place a rag in his hands. He sighs and wipes the counter anyway.

You bid him goodnight, but make no move to go to your bedroom, instead sitting at the counter scrolling through your phone. He clicks his tongue, and much to your surprise, pulls you by the arm, “What– Hey! The hell are you doing?”

“It seems I need to resort to physical force to make you rest,” He drags you down the dimly lit hallways and into your room. He hasn’t been inside of it since it was just an empty spare, collecting dust for the past years. But as the door swings open, it’s practically unrecognizable. Every nook and cranny is filled with traces of your presence; books stacked on the floor, a sweater slung over a chair. It fills him with reassurance that you’ve made yourself at home, even if you still feel out of place in this world.

“You didn’t have to manhandle me into bed,” You pout, and slightly warm when you realize the potential innuendo in your words. “I’m not a child.”

“You certainly act like one sometimes,” He retorts, “Should I sing you a lullaby?”

“Oh god, no, please—“ He smirks at the horror on your face.

“Rockabye baby, on the tree top,” His voice croaks out shakily, in complete contrast to the absolute confidence and mischief on his face as he taunts you. You burrow yourself underneath the blankets, “When the wind blows, the cradle will—“

“Stop! Please boss, stop the torture!” You dramatically call out from beneath the covers, kicking your feet, “I'll sleep if it means i never have to listen to that again.” You glare at him with the pillows pressed to your ears.

He barks out a laugh, with a surprising lack of offense at the blatant insult towards his musical capabilities. “That better be a promise,” He bids you goodnight, shutting the door and closing the lights on his way.

As he comes down from the midnight sugar rush and the warmth of good company, he thinks, when was the last time he could laugh so easily around a person?

—————————————————————

It becomes a somewhat regular occurrence between the two of you. Whenever the urge to bake strikes, you can expect that Sylus will be wandering in soon after, alerted by either the clanging of cookware or the smell wafting through the corridors. The kitchen becomes a refuge on sleepless nights, the two of you working in perfect synchronization with each other. Whenever you finish, he waves off your stubbornness and walks you to your room, making sure you don’t wander off again in avoidance of slumber.

One night, he comes home from a week-long mission gone slightly wrong. What was supposed to be an infiltration of the enemy base turned into a battle of bullets, as he quickly realized that the reconnaissance team’s information was wrong. Though the opposing side was dealt a bigger blow, he’s a little more than worse for wear, dragging his feet inside the compound, knuckles bruised and stomach rumbling. It’s one of those days where he wonders the point of it all. Where everything has gone wrong, and he wants to do nothing but hibernate, the sleep deprivation and lack of real food finally getting to him despite his resilience.

His streak of misfortune continues when his phone chimes with a text, the chef on duty informing him of a family emergency. Sylus grants him a day off with a sigh, and sets off to the kitchen to make the easiest meal he can think of right now.

You find a pathetically exhausting sight when you enter the kitchen: Sylus covered in cuts and bruises, hair ragged and bloody, chopping vegetables with the pace of a snail. You want to slam your head into the wall. “Sylus, you haven’t even changed out of your mission gear. What the hell are you doing in the kitchen?” You ask, intent on taking over but he steps away.

“The chef has taken a day off, so we’re on our own,” He continues chopping without so much as a blink of an eye.

You sigh, “It doesn’t have to mean you’re on your own. Come on, Sylus. You just got off a long mission. Let me take over,” You try pushing against him, to which he doesn’t even budge but you spot the way he winces when you press against his shoulder. “We cook together all the time, anyway. Go get cleaned up while I finish here.”

It’s a painstakingly long back and forth between the two of you until he begrudgingly agrees to leave. By the time he comes back, freshly showered and wearing the cardigan you gave him (now one of his favorite pieces), you have not only the salad prepared but one of his favorite dishes on the stove. There’s enough for Luke and Kieran to join, “Something smells good!” Two heads pop into the kitchen as soon as the food is prepared, “I thought we were fending for ourselves tonight!”

The four of you eat together at the dining room; it’s not a sight often seen in the compound, with how busy everyone is. But grief washes over you with the familiarity of it all, a family sitting down to have a meal together. You know it’s a privilege only you have experienced at this table, and your heart aches that they have never known it. And so, you try to bask in the coziness of a home cooked meal and good company.

“Miss Secretary, we’ve been meaning to ask,” Kieran begins after they finished recounting their recent mission, “How did you get here? I mean, we know that you came from another world and all… But how did you manage to get here? Did you mean to?”

Bless their hearts, the twins have seen so much in their life that not even the idea of other worlds can shake their curiosity. You appreciate how he carefully approaches the topic, even if you can see the eagerness plain as day on both their faces. So, as much as you don’t like to linger on this topic, you decide to indulge them.

“No, I didn't mean to go here. In fact, I didn't even know it was possible. My world– while different– was far less developed than yours,” You delve into a sanitized version of what happened to you. A silly incident that led to you waking up in the N109 Zone, dimensions away from your own world with no way to return. You keep the anxiety hidden beneath the surface, surprised at your own ability to hide your grief.

By the time you finish, the twins have even more questions— most of which you can’t answer, except one, “Are you going to go back?”

Beside you, Sylus’s heart stutters in his chest. He can't say he hasn’t thought about it before, that he’s never considered the possibility of you leaving his life just as you had carved your place in it. But he’s never had to confront the reality of whether you even wanted to be in his life. After all, you were alone in this world with nowhere to go. What other choice did you have but to stay with him?

“Well, the question is more about if I can,” You smile bitterly. “I've scoured most of Onychinus’s resources, but there’s nothing similar to my case. And it’s not like I'm a scientist who can figure this out with time, so…” Your voice trails off in disappointment, the topic growing cold as you run your fork against the scraps left on your plate.

It hurts him to see the look on your face, the hopelessness in your tone. He never lingered on the thought of how much it must hurt you, to be so far away from your home. It follows you until after dinner, when he insists on washing the dishes, “I can’t make the cook clean as well,” He says, yet you still linger on the island counter, staring into space.

“You'll always have a place here,” He reminds you, breaking you from your reverie. He’ll never let himself be soft for just anyone— but his guard tends to melt in the face of your presence. You look up at him in surprise, “Although you once said it’s only until you return to your world, you’ll always have a place in Onychinus. So long as you want it.”

What goes unsaid is how he cannot imagine his life without your presence. Without the post-it notes on his monitor, waiting for him at the start of each day. Without the incessant reminders you’ve somehow managed to link to his phone. (A part inside of him screams about a deeper loss; of nights spent under kitchen lights, of soft knits and your perfume permeating the office space, of your warm smile at the end of a cold, hard day.)

A soft, genuine smile transforms your face. “Thank you,” You whisper, heart still raw from recounting the most traumatic event of your life.

The sleep deprivation must be getting to him, he thinks. Under the warm kitchen lights with soft melancholy in your eyes, he thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful. He’s filled with a strong urge to lean forward just a little more, to close the distance and place his lips on yours— before he shuts his eyes tight. He shakes his head. What is he thinking? Kissing you when you’re vulnerable, kissing you when his ex-lover still lingers in his mind each day. But he can’t deny that slowly but surely, you’ve crept into his thoughts, occupying his mind more than he would like to admit.

He longs for this domesticity he’s never known until now; cooking and cleaning together, taking care of each other at your lowest moments. He can see this being forever and that thought scares him. On this warm summer night, the last of the sunshine before the autumn cold sweeps in— he thinks, once again, of the lover that was taken from him. Of the lifetimes he’s waited for her to return, for them to live the soft life they were robbed of. But his heart is nudging him to the possibility of something new, something so precious; and he wonders when the day will come where he must make a choice.

—————————————————————

feel free to dm/comment on the series masterlist if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist 💕

taglist — @mangooes @mentaltrouble2201 @animegamerfox @crazy-ink-artist @phisen @jeondyy @t4naiis @wifunozomi @munimunni @blessdunrest @rafayelridesfisheatsfish @paintedperidot @mansonofmadness @pillarofsnow @sylususeyourevolonmepls @angelichiaro @mephisto-with-a-knife @crimsonmarabou @hikaru-sama @flamedancer13 @tati-the-fangirl @ameili @poptrim @caramelizedpopcirn @cupid-gene @vvonunie @lunia-likes-pomegranet @iamawkwardandshy @tinyweebsstuff @astolary @vyntheria @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @velourmobius @beaconsxd @hon3yydew @kira-loves0905 @codedove @that-lost-one @colonelcalebs-pipsqueak @kaiii07 @bohoooitsme @everythingistaken00 @rmjace @red-raf-sy @goddexxluv @seris-the-amious @stellisangelicus-world @alhaith4ms @young-adult-summer @junrui

comment and reblog if you enjoyed!

#novthirty-writes #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x mc #sylus x non mc #love and deepspace sylus #sylus love and deepspace #lnds sylus #lads sylus #love & deepspace sylus #qin che #love and deepspace #lnds #lads #love and deepspace x reader #lnds x reader #lads x reader #sylus x non mc reader

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davinawritings · 3 months ago

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Minotaur Husband Drabble

Okay, so many months ago, I made a post about getting nipple piercings to match Minotaur Husband’s nose piercing, (Link Here) and I just thought of something else about that. So we know there’s no touching for several months while the piercing heals, right? But can you imagine when they do finally heal…

Your husband has spent months only being able to stare at your tits but not touch, lick, or suck. You are both well aware that it’s his favorite body part of yours. He doesn’t stop staring at your chest even more now. To him, wearing those tight tops is like a blessing and a curse. The ones that hug your tits so tight and allow him to see the outline of the piercings. He had practically banned you from wearing bras once you both moved in together, and the last few months truly put him to the test.

Fortunately, all that waiting was finally over, which brings you to the present moment. The second you had told your minotaur that you were fully healed, he had you in his lap, and your shirt ripped right off. It’s been almost an hour of him plating with your now puffy and swollen nipples. Denying your dripping cunt any stimulation other than some light grinding. Each time you try to take it further, he tells you not to rush him as he makes up for lost time with your chest.

“I spent months being tortured, baby; you can handle a few hours,” he told you with a grin. Your answering whine only made his grin widen.

You writhe on his lap, trying to get any stimulation as he continues relentlessly with your chest. Each bite, lick, and suck sends electric currents to your swollen clit. He’s keeping you right on the edge but not giving you the final push to fall into your climax. You aren’t sure how much more you can take. All thoughts are consumed with riding his large cock until you have tears streaming down your face from the overstimulation.

Not even pulling and stroking his sensitive horns is enough to make him give in a fuck you properly. Usually, one slight touch is enough, but months of being denied his favorite part of you made him unwilling to give it up now that he finally has it again.

You are definitely in for a long night. After all, he has months of lost time to make up for…

🖤💕❤️❤️💕🖤

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mysillycomics · 1 year ago

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Hi everyone! This is Claire. I am writing to let you all know that we did it. We saved Bailey and Tiger Fluff, and we all live together in an apartment in Illinois, my home state. We really, really did it!!!

You can read our thanks, thoughts, and more under the read more :0)

(note: Oliver also goes by Bailey! She has two names.)

There are many important people on this journey that we would like to specifically thank.

First, all of our friends (especially Peregrine, Sophie, and Jackson) who were there on the day Bailey was evicted, who listened to me and helped me figure out what to do when I felt more lost than I’ve ever been. Without them we wouldn’t have been able to act so quickly and efficiently. Because of them, we were able to formulate a plan.

Speaking of Jackson, he and his partner Cherri need to be thanked once again. Jackson drove all the way from his home, Bailey’s motel, and back to get both her and Tiger to a place to stay while we figured out what to do next. They provided a warm, quiet, and safe place for both of them in a time when something like that was so far away. For the first time in a long time, I knew that Bailey was truly somewhere safe. For that, we will be forever grateful.

While we do not have their names, we would like to thank the staff of the airport and airline who helped make this journey objectively possible. They also made Tiger into a little celebrity on the flight, and everyone, including the pilot, went to greet her and congratulate her for being so brave. She really is the bravest little kitty we know.

Next are my very close friends Elle and Callan, who invited Bailey and Tiger to stay at their house not far from mine while we secured a place of our own. They, like Jackson and Cherri, gave both of them the space to simply be. I was able to visit a couple of times, and being with my favorite people made an extremely difficult time so much better. It made me think “this feeling is what we are fighting for”.

Finally, we’d like to thank you.

To all of you who read and shared our story, you helped us to feel seen and heard and not alone. Reading words of support in the comments, quote retweets, and tumblr tags truly made me feel like we could do this with everyone cheering us on.

To everyone who donated, your generosity this financially possible. As of writing, we received $19,381 from the GoFundMe. We are now able to use the rest of funds that have been tucked away in savings for rent, food, and bills. I cannot overstate how grateful we both are. What you did for us will never leave our hearts.

…

While Bailey and Fluffy were at Elle and Callan’s, we found an apartment. It was small, but perfect. We toured. We applied. And we got it.

And on December 9th, 2023, we moved in and started living together! Our goal, our dream, our driving force for so long was achieved. After three years of long distance, we finally made it.

Our home is small, and has some quirks as all homes do, but it’s ours. The love of my life, the best little cat in the word, and I are all together. We are safe, warm, happy, and loved. The future we fought so hard for us now the present. Forgive me for being long-winded. I just have so much to say about all of this! Sometimes I still can’t believe that we actually did it. But we did, we really did!!!

I’m going to keep the GoFundMe up for a little bit, but once things settle more I will close donations.

Thank you!!!!!!!!! 🧸💕

____

Hey everyone Bailey here, I cannot overstate just how grateful I am to every single one of you and how thankful I am that this journey has been able to come into fruition. It was very scary being in that motel not having a plan or knowing what I was gonna do next while everything was crumbling around me. If it wasn't for Claire and our incredibly kind and caring friends I don't know what I'd do. They helped me press on and get through this with Fluff and we finally did.

Finally we're in a place that brings nothing but peace and comfort, my anxiety has dropped and I'm doing things I've never thought possible and building up strengths I never knew I had, I feel whole in a way that I've never felt before and I'm just, happy.

I am so grateful to have Claire, for years she's been so supportive and comforting and has brought this dream we've had into reality and every day I am so thankful to have her, she is the love of my life and my best friend. The life that her, myself and Fluff now share will forever be together and we can finally begin living. 💚💜

Thank you everyone, thank you to our friends who let Fluff and I into their lives to be able to be safe while we get our bearings, thank you to everyone who said such kind and wonderfully compassionate words, cheering us on as we go, every day I was looking at the community post I made on YT and it was just filled with people being so supportive, and thank you everyone who donated and got us into where we are. We could not have done it without all of you. 🐟 ❤️ 🐟 ❤️

#mysillycomics #baileyfeesh #not comics

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luveline · 1 year ago

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Craving a postprison!Spencer x stripper!reader fic, please ma’am.

Maybe she gets a daytime job at a coffee shop or a bookstore - to “supplement her income”/ not have to dance as often (not that she’s ashamed!!) and Spencer is just so proud of her for trying and can’t quit kissing her and praising her because I know in other fics you’ve mentioned she didn’t think anyone would hire her because of her profession/self esteem, plus after prison she didn’t want to dance because she wanted to be with Spencer. 🥺

Or really just anything with a proud Spencer x stripper!reader doing anything.

Your work is fantastic and I’m in love with everything you do!! 💕 thank you and it’s totally okay if you think this request is lame or don’t wanna write it!

thank you angel! —you find a new job while making decisions about your old one after Spencer returns from prison, and Spencer would praise you for breathing, so he’s extremely proud. fem, 1.8k

Statistics differ, but estimates suggest that there are around twenty thousand strippers in Las Vegas. With a population of seven hundred thousand people (estimated up), that means that one in thirty five people living in Las Vegas dances for a living.

It’s more than you’d think. Spencer knew of plenty of women who worked as strippers, exotic dancers, or private entertainers when he was still living at home. And while the numbers are much smaller in Washington DC where he lives now, it’s far from zero. More surprising for the average person to be one, perhaps, but not for Spencer.

It used to make him blush like a steam train, sure, but it never did any of the things you were scared of. He’s never looked down on you for it, never been jealous (well, never acted like a jerk because of it), never positioned it as anything other than work. His only complaints are in your concern. You don’t like the club, most of the time. You feel unsafe often. The risk of femicide is yards higher for you as a sex worker than it would be otherwise, but who is Spencer to talk about danger? He still has stitches in his leg.

Your job used to feel more urgent, a red flashing light above your head, because you’d come around with bruises or cut knees, tear stained cheeks, and you couldn’t make ends meet for all your efforts, but things have changed. You’re reluctant to depend on him, but you’ll accept the help when you need it. Nothing keeps you there if you don’t want to be there, and when you do you’re a marvel. You are beautiful, in Spencer’s eyes. Your dancing when you’re having a good night is one of the prettiest things he’s ever seen —more than pretty, sometimes. A hot coal in his stomach.

But the fact of the matter is that Spencer’s home, and you don’t want to dance. You haven’t been to the club for weeks as far as he’s aware, and he’d consider himself well informed. You spent all your savings and started spending his instead and he couldn’t care less, what’s his is yours, whatever keeps you aloft while you make whatever decision it is you’re working toward. Not that it presented itself that way.

I’ll have to go back.

Spencer on his back, you sitting with your head turned from the TV and toward him, your hand on his hip, just resting. Where?

To work. I have enough money for the next two weeks, and then I’m all out.

Spencer wouldn’t do something as unkind as rolling his eyes, but the point of you moving in was to cement that he’d look after you no matter what. He’d turned his head to you on his pillow and reached for your elbow. You’re still resting.

You’ve been home for two months, Spencer. I’ve rested enough. I… I only managed this long because you haven’t asked me for anything and that’s not fair, we both live here.

I earn more than you, so I pay more, he’d said, confused. It’s not as though it hurt him to continue paying for an apartment he’s been living in for years.

I won’t be your leech.

You’re not my leech, don’t say that.

I can’t just not have money.

Well… he’d said. He’d never discussed it with you so openly before, always stopped at the first suggestion, but there’s a first time for everything. You know you can have whatever you want from me. Anything you want, you don’t have to ask.

Spencer… you’re my boyfriend.

Exactly.

No, you’re my boyfriend. You don’t have to keep me. I don’t want that.

He understood the ‘want’ most heavily. What do you want, angel? he’d asked, dragging your hand up his naked chest to rest over his diaphragm, your arm moving up and down in time with his breathing.

You’d seemed stricken, but not upset. Like the question surprised you in having no answer. Not sure… you’d said eventually. Mostly you.

A week passed, two. A third and you’d asked him to borrow money, just for a little while, and with the vehement promise you’d pay him back.

He’s not expecting it. So soon, either. But here you are standing in front of him with a beaming smile and little book in your hands, unzipping one of the book's inner pockets to count out the money you’d ’borrowed’. “Here you go, my angel, there’s everything.”

Spencer just looks at it. “What is it?”

“The money I owe you.”

He presses his hands to his stomach to stop you from forcing the notes into them. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“No, seriously, please take it.”

He shakes his head. “Seriously. I don’t want anything from you, I love you. That money was for you to do what you wanted, or needed. It was yours as soon as I gave it to you.”

You try regardless to put it in his hands. Your hair was done freshly a week ago, your nails manicured but unpainted, your face adorned with some new makeup he’d seen on his (your) vanity a few days ago. It honestly hadn’t crossed his mind why you’d suddenly given yourself a refresh, and he had no suspicions. You would’ve told him if you went to the club, even just via text, because it’s important he knows you’ve had access to your phone or that you’re coming home. (Plus, he’d notice you leaving at night. You’ve spent the last few evenings laying across his lap.)

“Where did you get this?” he asks, smiling softly, wondering if he’s come to the right conclusion.

You drop the money on his thigh and take a couple of steps back.

“I,” you say, holding your little book to your stomach, “got a job as a barista. They gave me my first paycheck today, a direct deposit. So I took out what I owe you and the rest of it is in here.”

“You what?” he asks.

“I’m working at the coffeehouse by the library,” you say, nodding, parts proud of yourself and parts shy.

“For how long? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You bite your lip. “Just this week. And honestly, I didn’t want you to know if I couldn’t do it.”

Spencer stands up but doesn’t cross the room to you. He could reach out and catch your hand. “How could you work somewhere new all week without me noticing?”

“You weren’t here on Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday morning, and they gave me Thursday off, so I just told you a very small lie this morning about going to the store. I knew you’d get distracted by your Persian poetry again.”

He did get distracted, very much so. You’ve been and worked a whole shift without his worrying, which is a bit awful in itself (he really does love you, and he’d like to know where you are), but is also, frankly, a great thing. You should be able to work without worry. You should do anything you want to do.

Still, a whole week at a brand new job without any support, and to stand there with your paycheck as unmistakable waves of satisfaction melt off of you unkissed is insanity. Spencer’s laughing as he ushers you into his arms, as he hugs your shoulders tightly, “Oh my god!” he says, “Wow, congratulations!” He pulls back just a touch to see your face. “Please don’t lie to me about where you’re going, that’s so dangerous. I love you!”

He takes your face into both hands with your arms hanging loosely behind his back and begins a reckoning of kisses. The slope of your cheek, the skin between your nose and lips, Spencer couldn’t care less where the kisses land, he just wants them all over you. You laugh softly as he goes, almost stickily, a sound that comes deep from your chest. “I’m so proud of you,” he says, pressing a quick, mildly rougher kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I might still strip,” you say.

“Whatever you want,” he says, squeezing your face between his palms. “What’s it like? Do you like it? Is it hard?” He kisses you again. “I wish you’d told me,” he says against your lips.

You’re quieter than he expected, and warm. He pulls away more sternly to see what’s gone wrong. He could’ve asked the wrong questions. Maybe he’s embarrassed you.

“I just wanted to make sure I could do it. I didn’t want to fail and… and have you know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I get it.” God knows he’s failed a hundred times for you to see it. He wishes he would have hidden a lot of that from you, spared you some heartache, but he also knows how lucky he is to have you near. “That’s what we’re supposed to do, right? We should be together when stuff goes wrong.” He beams. “But it didn’t go wrong.”

“I think I’m pretty good at it.”

“Yeah?”

You hold his wrist. “And I get tips, did you know that? Not as many as before,” —you laugh to yourself loudly— “but still. It’s really cool. They pay me even if nobody wants coffee, and when people want coffee I get extra.”

Spencer kisses the corner of your eye. He kisses up to your eyebrow and down again, all over your cheek before turning your face to the other side to kiss circles into the other. “I,” —kiss— “can’t,” —kiss— “believe it.” Kiss. “Actually, I can, but I still can’t.”

“It’s just a part time job.”

“That you didn’t think you could do,” he says. “But you can do anything, I knew you could. I’m amazed by you.”

He grins and throws his arms over your shoulders.

You squeeze him right back, the two of you swaying, almost falling over. He can feel how proud you are of yourself. You deserve to feel this way no matter what.

“I like dancing,” you say, “I do, I just wish I could do it in a different… world? Is that stupid?”

“No. You’re never stupid.” He smiles as your hand weaves into his hair, fingertips scratching along his scalp, his curls caught between your fingers.

“Do you think you could come on Monday? I can make you a cup of coffee. It’s not as hard as it looks.”

“Please, I’d love for you to make me a cup of coffee.” His smile presses to your shoulder, where he breathes you in briefly, before remembering something very important. “Hey, do you wear an apron?”

“Of course I do.”

Oh my god, he thinks. There are more than half a million baristas in the United States, and Spencer will bet his monthly paycheck that you’re the cutest one to ever exist. You look cute right now in your jeans and your button up shirt, but put an apron on top of that? To see you standing behind a bar mixing drinks and pouring latte art? Monday can’t come quick enough.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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katyawriteswhump · 23 days ago

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cuddle therapy 💕

For @steddiemicrofic prompt, ‘score,’ and @steddiesportsau week 4 prompt, High School or College Sports.

Summary: Steve managed to score a college sports scholarship, even after presenting Omega. When injury 'ruins everything,' Alpha Eddie is (unexpectedly) there for him.

Words: 351; Rating: T and up; Tags: O!Steve, A!Eddie, hurt Steve, tennis, college, h/c, snuggling, angst and fluff with a happy ending.

💕💕💕💕💕💕

When Steve discovered his latest physio session was with Eddie, he nearly fled.

He’d such a crush. They’d flirted outrageously at a college party. Idiotically, Steve had gotten too buzzed to hook-up. The Alpha had chivalrously delivered him home.

That was last month. Before Steve screwed up his tennis season—his entire life—and stopped partying altogether.

Steve perched on the examination-bed, wide-eyed, feet swinging nervously. The trainee-physio gently manipulated his arm.

“Like before,” said Eddie, “any pain, I’ll stop. Score it out of 10 for me.”

Steve’s shoulder stabbed. He smothered a squeal.

“Steve?”

“2 out of 10.”

Eddie settled beside Steve, humming uneasily. “You’ve scored all your pain 2 today. You sure?”

Steve bit his lip. He couldn’t lie to a mega-hot Alpha radiating protective vibes. Even one reminding him rotator-cuff tears healed slowly. Steve couldn’t train, let alone compete, for months. Eddie wasn’t gonna tell Coach otherwise: “You’ll damage yourself more.”

Steve sniffled then the truth exploded. “It’s so unfair! Presenting Omega blew my dreams in baseball and swimming. I won a college scholarship for tennis—an Omega-friendly sport—and this happens. I’m pointless,” he sobbed into Eddie’s shoulder.

Huh? Oh shit.

He’d pretty much burrowed into Eddie’s side—totally inappropriate.

It was nice here tho’. Cosy.

Safe.

He hooked his uninjured arm around Eddie’s neck, snuffling for Eddie’s scent beneath their blockers.

“There’s more to life than tennis.” Eddie gently patted him. “Music’s my first love. Then my uncle got injured at work. I decided to study physio. Now I’ve two passions. Maybe you’ll find another while you heal.”

You?

Steve snuggled deeper. A purr escaped him, answered by a rumbling growl.

“I’m liking your chosen therapy,” said Eddie, “but we’ve violated a ton of rules.”

“I should go?”

Peeping up, Steve’s sinking heart leaped.

Eddie’s smile melted him. “You’re my last appointment. How ’bout we grab take-out? Continue this at your digs?”

Steve let Eddie carry him to his car, where they scented each other without blockers. Then home, for their first proper healing snuggle-session.

When he returned to tennis, Steve had two loves, Eddie three.

Each knew they scored top.

💕💕💕💕💕💕

my steddie fic on AO3

#steddie #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficapril #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #steddie omegaverse #steddie sports au event #steve harrington x eddie munson #omegaverse steddie #steddie au #steddie microfic #steddie microfic april

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rowdydevs · 9 months ago

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𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 - 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 𝐨𝐟 𝟔)

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙾𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚘𝚋𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

📖 𝙻𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚘 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚋𝚢 𝚂𝚊𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚊 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 💕

Warnings contain spoilers: domestic assault, cheating, swearing, name-calling, gaslighting, threats, and mentions of killing partner, general violence. Every chapter after this, will have Rafe as the focal point.

*blue font is present day

Reader’s POV:

Red wine, Tony’s favorite, Cabernet Sauvignon specifically. Tokara Telos, the first bottle of wine we shared on our very first date. Fitting for our two year anniversary. Slowly swirling the glass you watch the rich red wine cascade down the side. You look at the oven, eyeing the clock, watching a second hour pass. Nine… Dinner was set for seven. Where the hell is he? Maybe he texted me? Maybe he’s in a business meeting gone long or wrong?

Unread to read. Your heart skips a beat as you watch the three dots impatiently; Tony finally acknowledging you, letting you know where the fuck he is and what the hell he’s doing.

Nothingness.

The three dots disappear leaving behind the disappointing chain of messages.

Is he with someone else?

I hate that that’s where my mind goes first, since he’s assured me time and time again he’s faithful and I’m paranoid. It’s hard to give him the benefit of the doubt when there’s so much to doubt. Every excuse just sounds so fabricated with him, corroborated by his goons so I don’t have a leg to stand on.

Then there’s the talk around the country club… It’s just whispers, no real proof, but I swear it’s so goddamn loud. I’m rarely at the Island Club, but when I am, I can see the eyes on us. The cutting watch of women who Tony could possibly be seeing on the side; gossip shared just out of earshot. Everyones’ pity and focus always seems to be directed at me.

It’s embarrassing to feel like everyone knows my drama but me. No one opens their mouths. Ya know why? They’re scared… Scared of him. And I don’t blame ‘em. I’d be scared too.

So here I sit. Getting stood up by my boyfriend while he’s out doing god knows what, with god knows who, because he can. He can do whatever he’d like, break my heart, bruise my ego, because deep down I know there’s nothing I can do… The day I met him was the day I lost myself.

“Vlad,” you call from the kitchen, your voice bouncing off the walls of the lavish estate. “Vlad?”

“Miss?” Tony’s driver comes around the corner with a broad smile, taking in the smells of whatever lingers of the now cold pom de terre. “Smells delicious, Miss. I didn’t know you were a cook.”

“I’m not,” you sigh through a labored laugh. “Just thought I’d make what we had on our first date,” you hum, hearing the drunken slur in your own voice. Vlad cocks an eyebrow, clocking it instantly. “Umm… Dinner was supposed to be at seven,” you sough, gesturing with your glass toward the clock. “Do you know where he-”

“How was lunch with Anna?” He cuts you short, quickly changing the subject, leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

“Where’s Tony,” you return, trying your best to level your wavering tone, dismissing his “pleasantries”.

“The office-”

“What office exactly?” You snip, knowing it’s the Law Firm or The Country Club. Vlad’s gaze casts to the floor. He shuffles his Italian leather boot anxiously, not as good with his “excuses” as the other men on Tony’s payroll. It’s a wordless answer nonetheless - The Country Club. “Can you take me there? I want to make sure he has some dinner. I’m assuming he’s been there all day. The meeting just went long?” You ramble, without a verbal answer from him, gathering your things to leave as the older man flounders.

"Miss…” He cautions you, taking his turn with a faltering tone, making matters worse for Tony.

“Is there an issue?” You ask as you lift an eyebrow in his direction.

“Mr. Marietta is in an important meeting. As you know, they’re not usually the safest situations, and he demands your safety. Tony expressed to me that he would be home late. Would you like me to call him and ask when he’ll be coming home?” You roll your eyes, chuckling in disbelief as you stroll past him.

“I am perfectly capable of that,” you breathe as you snag a new bottle of red wine, heading out the door.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦

The Country Club comes into sight, the gaudy neon sign flickering from a distance. The parking lot is packed, littered with cars; always jam-packed on the weekends. Kooks, Pogues, and tourists alike all brought together for their shared love of pussy.

“Park there,” you guide from the backseat as you spot Tony’s blacked-out Maybach truck parked under the streetlight. Vlad locks eyes with you through the rearview mirror.

“Would you like me to call him before you go inside, Miss?” You shake your head ‘no’ as you look out the window, drawing a deep, nervous breath before pushing out.

What am I walking into?

“Y/n?” Luis, Tony’s bodyguard and bouncer, calls from his seat outside the door. “What are you doin’ here?” He looks in all directions for watchers-on anxiously, the blood drained from his face like he’d just seen a ghost. Only a handful of people even know that Tony owns this shithole. To virtually everyone on the Island he’s just another Kook King. The Marietta to the Marietta and Klaus Law Firm. This is simply a front for something bigger, something Tony can use to wash his dirty drug money; a front. “You just missed Tony,” he lies through his gold-capped teeth.

“He’s here,” you smile as you step toward the door, grabbing the handle. Luis rests his large palm on top, looking down at you blankly. “He’s in a meeting, Miss.”

“And-” You ask as you twist the knob, but Luis doesn’t budge. “Move.”

“No.”

“Get the fuck out of my way,” you snap. Luis’s jaw tightens as he shakes his head ‘no’ standing firm. “You said he wasn’t here. Now he’s here and I can’t go in? That’s my fuckin’ boyfriend,” you hiss.

“I have orders, ma’am.”

“Orders?” You scoff.

“Orders-”

“Pussy,” you spit, turning on your heels, heading back where you came. Plan B. You pick up speed, clipping down the asphalt before he can intervene, following the line of men waiting outside, before slipping through the front door.

Your head hangs low as you walk through the dim, seedy hallway, pushing past patrons sauntering in and out of the gentlemen’s club. The main floor. I’ve never been here… The office is the farthest I’ve gone. You catch a few familiar faces from the Island Club, their eyes doubling in disbelief and shame for seeing you here and being seen themselves. Music blares as you storm toward the back; beautiful women dancing on the stage in nothing but Pleasers for the swarm of men gathered around, flicking and raining ones on the stage.

“Yes,” you gasp as you watch a stripper step out from behind the back-of-house door; catching it before it swings shut. Just a few paces and you’re there. You slide in your key and open the office door without a second thought, ripping off the bandaid.

Nothing… The office is dark, only the light of Tony’s laptop glowing in the empty post. Maybe he is gone. You step toward it, letting your heart rate settle as you circle his desk.

The corner of your lips curl into a trembling smile as you see a framed picture of the two of you on his desk. A post-it note affixed to the top with a reminder for tonight’s date.

Maybe I am paranoid… You pull out his large leather desk chair, taking a seat. Drawing a deep, needed breath, you let your shoulders fall, releasing some of your tension. It doesn’t explain why his truck is still here… Your eyes flash open, returning to the worry at hand landing on a bar napkin. Red lipstick.

Your stomach sinks as you hold the note, your eyes flicking to the laptop screen. Oh my god. Your heart shatters as you watch a blonde bounce on Tony’s lap, his lips locked on hers.

“No…”

“I know,” you sigh as you relax your head back onto the cold brick wall of Kildare County Jail, looking up at the ceiling.

“Did ya kill 'em?” The woman asks in a gruff tone as she crosses her arms over her chest, tits spilling out of her tattered, lace bralette as she snaps her gum. “S'that why you’re in here?”

“Thought about it? But no. That’s not why I’m here.” You open your heavy eyes, taking in your surroundings, contemplating all the choices that landed you here. The worst of it, ever being with him in the first place.

“So, what happened next?”

“Well…”

There’s a brief separation as Tony draws away from their kiss, staring toward the door of the Champagne Room. Luis… He must have figured it out. Tony pushes the stripper off his lap, gathering his clothes as he frantically dresses.

Here we go.

You hear the muffled bang of the first door and the gritting of his key working the lock on the second. You watch as the knob twists, light flooding the room as Tony pushes into the office coming toward you fast. Tony grabs your shoulders, and you fight him off. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me,” you snap.

“Baby, please. You gotta talk to me? What’s going on? Why are you so upset? Please just talk to me,” he pleads like he’s done before; times when I gave him the benefit of the doubt; times when I believed I could be the problem here. “We weren’t doing anything.”

“Tony!” You cry. “Are you fuckin delusional? I saw you fuckin’ that stripper with my own two eyes.”

“Princess, she was just dancing. It was a lap dance. Alright? You have to believe me.”

“Just a lap dance…” You scoff looking down at his undone belt, zipper down, dress pants pitched from his hard-on. He follows your eyes, hastily zipping and fastening his pants closed.

“I don’t know what you think you saw-”

“We’re done,” you chuckle tiredly as you step back, throwing open the side office door. Tony immediately reaches for you, clawing for your arm. “Let go of me,” you struggle.

“You’re not leavin’,” he asserts, pulling you back inside.

“I am. I’m done with you. It’s our anniversary, Tony. Look at where you are. Look at what you’re doing. How could you do this to me?”

“Do what? It was just a dance. I just got out of a major deal. Alright? I was about head home-”

“Liar!”

“Liar?” He questions. “Did you just call me a liar?” He asks as you feel the sting of his blunt fingernails digging into your arm.

“I know what I saw…”

“Princess… Even if I was lying. What the fuck are you gonna do about it. Huh? You’re mine, bitch. I own you. Where are you gonna go? What money do you have? How are you gonna afford this lifestyle you’ve become so accustomed to? Spending my hard-earned money like the gold-digging slut you are. You should be grateful,” he snarls as he steps toe-to-toe with you using his free hand to tug his leather belt from the loops of his pants.

You look up into his dark eyes as cruel words spit so readily from his wicked lips like he’s had time to prepare. I’ve seen this side of him, only once. He’s an evil man, and I know that. But this sort of cruelty has never been reserved for me. Until today. He grips his belt a little tighter in his fist making you take a few steps back but he stalks closer.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere,” he threatens.

“I am,” you whisper as you try to remain firm.

“I don’t think you understand this relationship we’ve got goin’ on, sweetheart. You go when I say you go,” he growls, tracing the belt along your bare thigh. “Do you think you’ll have a life after me? You think I’ll allow that shit.” He winds up smacking it against your skin. You gnash your teeth in pain, holding back tears, the most horrifying part knowing he could go far harder. “You know too much. You’re a liability. You have nothing. You are nothing without me. And you will be nothing without me.” Chills fall down your spine at his words and the crazed look in his eyes, his pupils blown from coke, pleasure, and rage.

“M'not scared of you.”

“You’re not. Huh? My tough girl.” He leans in; lips draw to your neck, kissing your pulse point, your rapid heartbeat calling your bluff as you inhale Cassidy’s cheap perfume lingering on his skin. You pinch your eyes shut as his large hand threads into your hair, tugging slightly while the other soothes your stinging thigh with his rough palm.

“I came from nothing, Tony. I’ll be fine.”

He scoffs as he uses his grasp on your strands to shove you away, letting the back of your head and body bang against the side door. Tony buttons up his still-undone shirt; bright red lipstick stained on the collar as well as his neck, a dark hickey forming to boot. Tears roll down your cheeks as you stand there defeated in your date night dress, your perfect makeup now streaming down your cheeks as you look into his soulless eyes.

“Fuck you, Tony.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” he chuckles as he pulls a cigarette out from behind his ear, placing it between his lips before snapping his lighter. “You leave, and I’ll find you. I own Figure 8, princess. Hell, I own this whole damn island. You better not make it too hard on me, baby doll. It’s our anniversary, after all. I’m sure you got somethin’ pretty for Daddy under that little dress of yours. I know you like it rough… but you might not make it out this time,” he laughs as he tosses his belt roughly toward his desk, the picture of the two of you clattering and shattering on the floor.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Me? Never… But if my hands are wrapped tight enough around that pretty little throat of yours and you don’t have enough juice to shout our safe word that’s on you, angel.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’ll give you a 5 minute head start, love. That seems fair?”

You grab the door and pull it open, taking a few steps before turning around again, pressing your back against the cool door, holding it shut as you look for an out. Luis is gone from his post, most likely keeping watch on the opposite end, Vlad in the parking lot, open water on the other side. There’s no way I can go back home. No family close by. No car. No escape. Looking out into the busy parking lot, you watch a squad car slow-roll through the back of the lot. Perfect.

Thank you, Luis. You reach down, snagging his Louisville Slugger perched against the weathered barstool. "Miss?” You hear his bodyguard’s frantic voice as he rounds the corner. You run into the lot as fast as your feet can take you, swerving around cars; dodging Luis.

You slam your eyes shut, swinging hard, nailing Tony’s Maybach truck, shattering the glass. The car alarm blares, echoing through the large lot. “Y/n!” Luis yells, but you swing and swing again.

“Y/n!” Tony barks from the door. You point the bat in his direction, twirling it before knocking off the wing mirror and sending it flying. A second siren fires, the sound of the police cruiser blares through the night, competing with the truck as it gets closer and closer.

You nail the glass, shards spilling into the truck as the cruiser pulls up, moving to the front of the vehicle you make your delinquency visible, quickly knocking out each headlight while the deputies climb out of their vehicle. “Get on the ground. Get on the ground now!” They holler.

“Deputy, this… this is a misunderstanding,” Tony assures as he enters the lot, softening his voice again.

“No, it’s not. And if I had a knife, I’d slash your tires, asshole.” The officers grab for you, expecting a fight, ultimately getting the latter. You cross your arms behind your back, smiling at Tony as they lock you in cuffs.

"Well, shit,” the older woman chuckles as she pulls you back to reality.

“Mhmm… but I’m a liability. After that little stunt I pulled, I know I’m living on borrowed time. Jail is the only place I could leave and be safe for the night. It’s just a band aid though; a temporary fix. I’m sure he’ll bail me out any minute, but who knows what’ll happen? I want to show him I’m not afraid.”

She purses her lips, debating whether to ask the million dollar question. “Are you?” She asks somberly.

“I wish I wasn’t-”

“L/n, someone just bailed your ass out. Let’s go,” an officer calls from outside the cell. The woman beside you taps your leg, giving you a little nod.

“He lays a finger on you, honey, I got no problem comin’ back here.”

“Thank you,” you whisper before turning toward the officer, giving her a wide, fake smile.

You rise to your feet, fixing your dress as you walk to out-processing. “To the left.”

Shupe matches your gaze from his post, giving you a wary glance. “M'am, are these your belongings?” He asks as he holds up the plastic bag of goods. You give him a soft smile and a nod. “Sure you got nothin’ you wanna tell me, Miss F/N L/N. Now’s the time,” Shupe warns. “You know, it’s Tony who posted your bail. He’s waitin’ for you outside-”

“I’m fine. Just fine, Deputy,” you assure as you fish your lipstick out from your clutch, slicking it on in the reflection of the privacy glass. “It was nothin’. Just a misunderstanding, as I said.”

“Just fine? Trashing Mr. Marietta’s Maybach truck was nothing? Just a normal night for the two of you?” He asks sarcastically.

You look at him and smile, dead-eyed and defeated. “It was our anniversary, actually.” Shupe’s eyes widen at yours, the occasion making your story even more unbelievable. “Have a great day, Deputy.”

“This is not a beauty pageant,” the female officer grunts, shooing you toward the exit.

I don’t know if I made the right choice… but I’m not gonna snitch. If I want to survive, I’m going to have to be strategic.

“I’m cooperating. Ain’t I?” You hear a deep voice echo down the hallway.

Stopping in your tracks, you watch the tall blonde struggle to break free. He grits his teeth, fighting against the cuffs, his broad chest gaping at the buttons of his black button-down shirt. He looks like he’s been through it; a gashed lip, the bottom of his pressed shirt half-tucked, his hair messy and sweaty against his dewy, tanned skin.

His eyes match yours; even from a distance, you can see how blue they are. His entire demeanor shifts, softening as a smile pulls on his pretty lips. A smile so beautiful, you can’t help but return the same.

There’s something magnetic about him, an intensity drawing your focus to him like a moth to a flame. He winks, and in that instant, everything changes. There’s no mistaking the connection swelling between you.

“Hey,” he mouths; your breath catches in your chest, pulse-quickening as time slows to a snail’s-pace. He looks at you until the last minute before being shoved inside his confinements. The metal door slams shut, jarring you from your daze, the bustle of the jail building from the solace in your mind.

Who was that?

It was momentary… a fleeting beat. The calm before the storm. You get pushed along, shoved toward the exit, and away from a sweet dream, thrown straight into a nightmare.

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

#older!rafe ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ #mobboss!rafe ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ #rafe short story 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹#⋆.°🧸๋ྀི࣭⭑. Please Please Please #rafe #rafe Cameron #rafe Cameron x reader #rafe smut

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thewriteadviceforwriters · 2 months ago

Note

Do you have any tips on writing a character that can be a bit quiet and weird/quirky yet confrontational and loud. She bites and picks her fingers when very anxious but she’s also a confident, and brave character who fights for what’s right and what she wants. I have a difficulty mixing a character’s personality sometimes, and wondered if you had any tips to help? :)

On Creating Beautifully Contradictory Characters ✨

Hey writer friend! Rin here.

I LIVE for these questions! 💕

Here's the thing about characters (and people). we're not single-note beings who fit into neat little boxes. The most real characters exist in the in-between spaces.

Let's talk about how to make this work...

The secret to contradictory character traits

What makes a character feel REAL isn't consistency. it's coherence.

• Your character doesn't need to be the same in every situation

• What they need is an emotional core that makes sense of their seemingly opposing behaviors

• Think of their personality as a constellation, not a straight line

When I'm developing characters like this, I always start with their wounds and values. What do they care about SO DEEPLY that it would make a normally quiet person raise their voice? What hurts have they experienced that make them bite their fingers when anxious?

Some practical ways to blend these traits

• Give her specific triggers for each mode. Maybe she's quiet in casual social settings but finds her voice when someone's being mistreated.

• Create physical transitions between states. How does her body language shift when moving from quiet observer to vocal defender? Does she take a deep breath? Square her shoulders?

• The finger-biting anxiety habit is actually perfect. it can be the bridge between her quiet and loud states. Maybe it's what she does while gathering courage before speaking up.

• Show us moments where BOTH traits are present at once. She can be nervously biting her fingers WHILE confronting someone.

What NOT to do (because it's boring)

Please don't fall into these traps:

• Don't make her "usually quiet except when..." That's not a complex character, that's just situational behavior.

• Don't explain away her contradictions with trauma (unless that's genuinely part of her story). Not every character trait needs a tragic backstory!

• Don't make her self-conscious about her contradictions. She doesn't need to apologize for being both quiet and loud.

Let's make some word magic happen

Try writing a scene where:

We first see her in her quiet, observing mode

Something happens that triggers her sense of justice

We witness her internal thought process as she decides to speak up

She exhibits her anxious behavior (finger biting) while ALSO stepping into her confrontational mode

Afterward, she returns to quietness, but it feels different now

The magic happens in those transition moments. That's where readers will fall in love with her complexity.

Remember this always

The most memorable characters aren't the ones who are consistently anything. They're the ones who surprise us while still feeling true to themselves.

Your character's contradictions aren't flaws to fix or explain away. they're what make her human. They're what make readers say "I KNOW her" even if they've never met anyone exactly like her.

So embrace those contradictions. Let her be quiet AND loud. Let her be anxious AND brave. Let her be fully, messily human.

I hope this post helped you

-Rin T.

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misshoneyimhome · 21 days ago

Text

What's up buttercups 💕

I present to you, chapter fourteen 💕 There's really not much to say here, except things might get a bit more tense now - and spoiler alert: it's the not punch we wanted, but it's the punch needed (in case you get that Batman reference... because well, your girl here and Auston love their Batman) 🔥

Anyway, happy reading! 💋

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, language, 18+ smut: semi-public sexual activities, mutual masturbation, unprotected vag sexual intercourse (cum inside)

Word count: 6.9k Chapter one ; Chapter two ; Chapter three ; Chapter four ; Chapter five ; Chapter six ; Chapter seven ; Chapter eight ; Chapter nine; Chapter ten; Chapter eleven; Chapter twelve ; Chapter thirteen

Some who might have interest: @hockeybabe87 @tonyspep @thesecretestblogever @delayed-delusions @kurlyteuvo @emsdevs

➼｡ﾟ

Chapter fourteen - A queen can move wherever she likes*

“Dearest Toronto readers,

It’s been a long weekend in the kingdom, and your favourite royal court has been buzzing. We’ve seen cheek kisses on sidewalks, power plays behind closed doors, and perhaps most shockingly of all—a certain Ice King was spotted somewhere far more dangerous than centre ice: the Queen’s childhood home.

Yes, you read that right. Auston Matthews, NHL captain and Toronto’s most elusive bachelor, was seen not at a club, not at brunch, but walking through suburban front doors with a bottle of wine and a confident stride. A boyfriend meeting the Queen dowager? That’s either reckless or royal behaviour—and in this game, it might be both.

Sources say the dinner included siblings, twins, toddlers, and passive-aggressive wine pouring. Was it a PR move? A strategic play to reinforce the illusion? Or are we watching something real—something raw—unfold right before our eyes?

Meanwhile, back in the city…

Matthew Knies continues his personal heater on the ice and in our hearts. With a face made for fan cams and a slap shot that belongs in a museum, the baby Leaf is proving he’s more than just Auston’s golden boy.

William Nylander was spotted this weekend at a downtown café, deep in conversation with a brunette definitely not on the official WAG roster. Eyewitnesses say they were laughing. And sharing a croissant. Sharing. Is the chill Swede finally warming up?

And let’s not forget the true MVPs of game nights: the Tavares children, who had the entire Scotiabank section in tears after high-fiving the Zamboni driver and declaring, “Daddy’s team always wins.”

But beneath the laughter, one truth remains: the Queen is no longer sitting still. She’s been introducing families, teasing captains, and walking through this season like she owns the ice.

They think the Ice King holds the crown… But what happens when the Queen chooses not to wait?

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

You woke up slowly, reluctantly, like your body already knew Monday was going to demand more than you had to give.

Your muscles ached. A deep, humming kind of soreness that made itself known with every shift beneath the duvet. The inside of your thighs were tender. Your shoulder throbbed faintly where Auston’s mouth had lingered too long. And your heart? That was worse. Because it wasn’t bruised—it was confused.

Sunday had been… a lot. Dinner with your family. The backseat. His hands. His mouth. His voice—low, sharp, hungry. You like pushing me? This what you wanted?

Your breath caught at the memory, at how easily it replayed in your mind. You hadn’t even kissed him goodbye. And he hadn’t stayed.

But it hadn’t felt cold, either.

You should’ve stopped it. That would’ve been smart. Strategic. The kind of move a woman playing pretend would make. But when he touched you like that—when he looked at you like you were something worth coming undone for—logic folded like tissue paper.

He’d left a message: “See you around, boss. Like this version of you, Pushy. And bossy…” With just enough cheek to make you smile when you read it, hair still damp from the shower, legs still trembling when you moved too quickly. At the time, it had seemed casual. Now, in the bright stillness of Monday morning, it felt… unfinished.

You wrapped your robe tighter around your body and padded to the kitchen, where your coffee sat untouched beside your open laptop.

Just stood there with your hands wrapped around the edge of the counter like it might ground you. A breeze slipped through the cracked window, rustling the little notes stuck to the fridge—grocery lists, old concert stubs, a photo of you and your sister with matching sunburns. Your life. Unchanged. Unmoved. Except now, it felt like something seismic had shifted beneath the surface.

Work emails blinked at you like neon signs, demanding your attention, but your mind kept wandering. The curve of his jaw. The grip of his fingers. The weight of his stare next to you at your mother’s dinner table like he was undressing you through the candlelight.

As soon as you sat down by your desk, you missed two emails before you realised it—one from your manager, one from Chase asking about something vague and unimportant. You blinked, forced yourself to refocus, and typed out an overly enthusiastic response to both.

And then a few minutes later your phone buzzed.

Jess: Sooooo… are you alive? Or did Auston’s post-dinner cardio kill you?

You snorted and dropped your head against the back of your chair.

You: Barely alive. Legs? Done. Nervous system? Shot.

Jess: Damn giiirl… I need a full breakdown.

You: There will be diagrams.

Jess: Can’t wait babe! But uhm, btw, Liam and I are going to the game Wednesday! He got tickets through work, I think. And.. Ryan will be there too, apparently, with some new girl. Hope that’s ok 👀

You blinked a couple of times and then sat a bit straighter.

You stared at the message longer than necessary, thumb hovering like it might change. The knot in your stomach wasn’t quite jealousy. It was something different—half guilt, half relief. Ryan had always been a good friend. And yet the memory of Ryan trying to kiss you, asking about you… of watching from across the arena… it made your pulse spike in a way that felt more like warning than longing.

Yet, you decided to play it cool.

You: Oh yeah? That’s… good. Hope it’s not weird.

Jess: I told Ryan you’d be with the team partners anyway, so he probably won’t try anything. Just a heads-up.

You: Appreciate the buffer. Truly.

You stared at the message for a moment, chewing your lip. Ryan had almost kissed you. He’d asked about you last week... Now he was showing up with a date at a game. Maybe that was progress. Maybe that was closure.

Still… you didn’t like the unease that lingered.

You brushed it off and returned to work. As much as you could without thinking about a certain hockey captain, of course.

The morning air was crisp—one of those deceptively calm November mornings where the sun peeks through grey clouds just enough to look hopeful, but the chill still cuts through your hoodie.

A man passed with a cup of Tim’s in one hand and a mini Leafs jersey in the other. Auston caught the flash of his own number—34—scrawled across the back. He didn’t wave. Didn’t nod. Just kept walking while Felix paused to inspect a lamppost like it held answers.

Auston kept one hand jammed in his pocket while the other held Felix’s leash, loose and easy. The dog trotted ahead, nose twitching with every new scent, tail wagging like the win the night before had meant something to him, too.

Auston wasn’t smiling, but the edge of his mouth tugged every so often—remembering the way you’d looked last night.

That skirt had no business being legal. It clung to you like second skin, the kind that demanded to be peeled away. He could still see the way you’d shifted under his gaze, like you knew what you were doing to him, and maybe you did. The hem had barely covered the tops of your thighs, riding up with every step you took through the hallway of your childhood home, like a tease only meant for him.

You’d worn it like it was made for you.

Like it was made for him.

And maybe it had been.

He exhaled through his nose, the breath sharp in the cool morning air, and shoved both hands deeper into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. Felix tugged at the leash a few steps ahead, sniffing out his usual trail, completely unbothered by his owner’s unravelling mental state.

This was supposed to be easy.

Light and fake.

But it didn’t feel fake anymore.

Not after the way you’d gripped the edge of the seat in his car like it was the only thing anchoring you to earth. Not after the way your voice had cracked when you said his name, breathless, wrecked, undone. Like he was something precious and forbidden all at once.

Not after the way you’d let him in without hesitation—into your house, into your body, into the soft, bruised places you hadn’t let anyone touch in a long time.

And now, hours later, with the scent of you still clinging to his hoodie and the phantom of your moans looping in his head like a goddamn soundtrack, he was walking his dog like a man trying to reset his heartbeat. Like a man trying not to admit that he’d crossed a line he didn’t want to uncross.

He was lost in thoughts until suddenly his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He slid it out without thinking, thumb swiping across the screen.

It was a photo sent by his sister. And beneath it, one line: “Mamma saw this yet?”

The image showed him standing in your mother’s kitchen, slightly out of focus but unmistakably there. One of your nieces—or cousins?—perched on his hip, his hair slightly mussed, a half-smile caught mid-laugh as you passed him something off-screen. The whole thing looked too real. Too domestic.

Too… couple-y.

It wasn’t the kid on his hip that rattled him—it was the look on his own face. Relaxed. Happy, even. Like he belonged there, laughing in kitchens and holding babies and handing out second servings of salad like it was a Sunday ritual. It wasn’t fake. That was the worst part. He hadn’t even been pretending.

“Shit,” he muttered.

And as if on cue, his phone buzzed again. And this time it was a call.

Mom.

He sighed and picked up. “Hey.”

“So.” Ema didn’t waste time. “You meet her family before I get to meet her?”

“Wasn’t exactly planned—”

“Auston.” His name was a warning wrapped in amusement. “Is this really serious? Because I’m already being texted by Mitchy’s mother who thinks I’m ‘next. And I hope I am…”

He winced. “It’s not—We haven’t really talked about—”

“You had dinner with her family, mijo. That’s serious, right.”

He ran a hand down his face. “Mamma”

“Oh, that’s it. I’m coming to Toronto. This weekend. It’s only fair I meet the girl if you’ve met her family.”

The line went quiet for a second, and then: “You’re not mad, are you Mijo?”

He paused, looking out over the dog park path ahead of him. Felix had finally stopped sniffing and started walking again, tail high.

“No,” Auston said finally. “No, I’m not mad, mamma. I’m just… not sure how to put words into it all”

“Oh honey. That’s completely normal. Sometimes love can do that to you.”

His mother’s voice was nothing but soft and gentle. Yet, it twisted something within him. Something strangely… good.

“Hmm…” he muttered under his breath. “I guess.”

I few more minutes went by as they said their goodbye before he ended the call and just stood there. Felix barked at a squirrel in the distance, but Auston didn’t flinch. He rubbed the back of his neck, cold fingers meeting warm skin, heart kicking just a little faster. This was the part where lines got blurry. Where fake turned into something more. Where people—his people—started expecting explanations.

Was this serious?

Yeah.

Yeah, it was starting to feel that way.

And the worst part?

He didn’t hate it. Not even a little.

The office felt louder than usual.

Not in volume—nobody was shouting, no alarms were going off—but in the subtle, pervasive kind of way. Like something was humming just below the surface. You caught it in the way two of your co-workers stopped mid-conversation when you entered the kitchen, the way they exchanged glances over their coffee mugs with poorly hidden smirks.

You told yourself it was nothing. Probably just end-of-quarter chaos. Or the broken espresso machine. Or Chase’s ugly tie.

But then: “Did you see the one where he’s holding the plates? Like, actual dessert plates?”

You froze.

That voice was too close. Two desks behind you. You recognised it—Kelsey from HR, who somehow always knew things about you before you did.

“Honestly,” said someone else, “he looks like he belongs there. Like he’s her boyfriend or something.”

“Didn’t her sister post that to Close Friends? How did it even get out?”

You blinked hard at your screen. Your emails blurred.

No. No way.

You opened Instagram, hands trembling slightly, and navigated to your sister’s profile. Her story was still there: Auston in your mother’s kitchen, holding a handful of dessert plates with one of the twins next to him, you in the background laughing with your head tilted back like something out of a romcom. She hadn’t meant for it to go public.

Apparently, someone had changed that.

You dropped your head into your hand and let out a groan. This was too much. First the charity gala. Then the photo at the game. Now this?

You barely heard your phone buzz.

Jess [Voice Note, 0:58]

“Okay. Okay, listen. I’ve been trying not to scream all morning but—babe. I saw the photos. Those of Auston? In your mum’s kitchen? Carrying fucking dessert plates? He looked at you like you were the only person in the room. Like you hung the damn wallpaper and he wants to kiss you against it. I cried a little. I’m not okay.”

You let the audio finish, one hand dragging down your face.

Maya [Text, 1:46 p.m.]

Okay wait… are you two actually in love? Because I’m starting to believe the fairy tale and I need to know whether to invest emotionally or not.

You didn’t answer. Because you didn’t know how.

Instead, you stared at the blinking cursor on your screen and thought about the way Auston had gripped your thighs last night. The way he’d looked at you at the dinner table like you were the most fascinating thing in the room—more interesting than your brothers’ finance talk, more powerful than your mother’s smile.

You thought about the bruise on your hip, the ache that still hadn’t fully left your body.

And just like that – as if someone had read your mind, your phone buzzed again. A new message.

Auston: So, dinner again this week?

Just six words. Direct and simple. Classic him.

You stared at it for too long, thumb hovering. Part of you wanted to reply with something cheeky. Another part wanted to say yes. Absolutely. Please.

Instead, you typed:

You: Let’s see how Wednesday goes. Then we’ll see if you deserve my company at dinner.

Auston: Can’t wait to see you there, boss… hopefully, with my name on you. Or better yet, me on you…

But then, you left him on read.

Not because you didn’t want him. God, you did. But because this—this moment of silence—was the only control you felt like you had. After the gossip, the glances, the screenshots, the stories. After opening yourself up more than you had in years.

You needed a beat to breathe.

Just one.

Wednesday -

The Scotiabank Arena buzzed with anticipation, a low hum of energy thick in the air even before puck drop. It was the kind of night that made Toronto feel alive from the inside out.

You adjusted the hem of Auston’s jersey as you stepped into the private suite, sleeves pushed to your elbows, the oversized fit swallowing your frame just right.

"Well, well, well," Tessa grinned as she spotted you, her voice cutting through the chatter like a chirp on the bench. "Look who’s back in her boyfriend’s uniform. You do know that makes it official, right?"

"It’s just a jersey," you said, but the smirk tugging at your lips betrayed you.

"Sure it is," Stephanie chimed in from her spot on the plush couch, legs crossed and glass of white wine in hand. "But the Matthews name looks really good on you."

You rolled your eyes, cheeks warm, and sank into a seat between them. The suite was already bustling, the partners and families sipping drinks, laughing, passing snacks back and forth. Gaby was in the corner with Estelle, whispering and giggling about something you couldn’t quite hear over the announcer calling the players to the ice.

Your phone buzzed in your hand. A message from Jess:

Jess: "We're in 108. Liam just spilled half his beer cheering for Knies during warmup. Classic."

You: "Love that for him. You good?"

Jess: "Very good. Ryan’s here too. With a girl. Just FYI. He asked about you. I told him you were too busy for him."

Your stomach did a weird little dip. Once again, you weren’t sure if it was annoyance or relief.

You: "Appreciate the strategic deflection."

Jess: "Always. Go enjoy your little hockey husband."

You slipped your phone into your pocket just as the lights dimmed and the arena roared to life. The anthem played, the puck dropped, and the game began with a bang.

From the first shift, it was clear the Leafs were locked in. Auston was skating like he had something to prove—which, to be fair, he always kind of did. His edges were sharp, movements fluid, and his eyes tracked the puck like a predator in control. You watched as he dangled around two Knights defenders and fed a no-look pass to Knies, who roofed it top shelf.

The suite erupted.

"That kid," Aryne breathed, shaking her head. "I swear he was made in a lab."

"He was made by God and Minnesota," Tessa laughed. "In that order."

By the end of the first period, Auston had a goal to his name and an assist. He shot you a look from the bench as he caught his breath, one brow slightly raised, a smirk ghosting his lips. You felt your pulse skip like a scratched record.

Then during the break, the Tavares kids naturally burst into the suite with wide eyes and sticky fingers.

"Can you play mini sticks with us?" Axton asked loudly already pulling you by the hand.

“Alright mr,” you chuckled lightly before you dropped to your knees on the carpet without a second thought, laughing as you tried to keep up with their chaotic energy.

"Unfair!" Jace then shouted. "She’s too good!"

"Oh, I learned from the best," you teased, ruffling his hair.

You were breathless by the time Gaby handed you a water bottle and helped peel one of the kids off your back.

"Natural," she said with a grin. "Tavares might offer you a babysitting gig."

"Well, maybe if this PR thing doesn’t work out, I’ll consider it."

Then back in your seat for the second period, the mood was giddy. Auston almost picked up another assist after winning a puck battle behind the net and feeding it to Marner. Knies followed it up in the third with a beautiful solo goal that had the entire bench on their feet.

The Leafs won 3–0.

"God, I love this team," Stephanie sighed as the final buzzer rang out.

“You love that Auston keeps racking up points while our new friend wears his jersey,” Tessa teased, nudging your arm with a playful smirk.

You rolled your eyes, but the laugh escaped anyway—light, warm, real. There was something about tonight that felt easier than it should’ve. No spiralling. No overanalysing. Just… being. Present. Caught in a moment that felt strangely like belonging.

The girls were already planning post-game drinks and a weekend spa trip.

"You should come," Tessa said, nudging you with her knee.

The chatter in the suite swirled around you, full of champagne giggles and the buzz of victory. Someone had already cracked open a second bottle, and Stephanie was busy Googling spa menus.

“We’re thinking Saturday,” she said, flipping her phone around to show you a pastel-coloured website with lotus flowers and words like tranquillity and aromatherapy. “Girls only. No sticks and no pucks.”

You hesitated for half a beat, your instinct ready to decline before your brain caught up.

“Should I even be invited to that?”

Tessa scoffed. “Babe, you’re Auston’s girl here. You’re basically in the group chat now.”

“There’s a group chat?” you blinked.

Stephanie raised her glass in a mock-toast. “There is. And you’re in. Cucumber water, mud masks, robes, and extremely unfiltered gossip.”

You opened your mouth, still unsure.

But then you thought about the tension in your shoulders lately. The swirl of uncertainty. Auston’s hand on your thigh under the dinner table. The way he said your name like it had teeth. The way he made you feel like more than just a player in some fake game.

Maybe you needed this. Not for him—but for you.

“O- okay,” you said, surprising even yourself. “Yeah, I’m in.”

Tessa cheered. Stephanie beamed. Someone passed you a fresh glass of prosecco.

You leaned back into the plush stadium chair and let yourself enjoy it—the win, the warmth, the invitation to just exist among women who got it. You didn’t realise how much you’d missed this kind of comfort. Easy company. No expectations.

And just moments after the final horn had blown and the crowd erupted, you then followed the girls down the hallway, hearts still racing from the game. Laughter bounced off the walls as you weaved past security and staff, heading toward the player hallway to greet the team. It was tradition. Casual and familiar.

You were still laughing when you suddenly saw his shadow.

Not Auston’s.

Ryan.

He was leaning casually against the wall outside the player’s lounge, dress shirt pressed, and a badge clipped to his belt. His eyes swept the corridor, and then they landed on you.

And just like that, the ease you’d been floating in all night vanished.

Jess’s message echoed in your head.

You tried to look away. But then he started walking toward you.

“Let’s talk about jerseys.

Because while Auston Matthews dominated the scoreboard tonight—one goal, one assist, and more control than a Bond villain—the real headline was who was wearing his number in the stands.

Our Queen didn’t just show up. She arrived.

Laughing with the WAGs, sipping prosecco, and playing with the Tavares kids like she belonged there all along. And that jersey? It fit her like a crown—bold, casual, intimate. Like it meant something. Maybe it does.

Matthews looked up more than once. Don’t think we didn’t notice.

And while the WAGs have welcomed her into the inner circle, we can’t help but ask: Is she there for him… or finally there for herself?

The Queen is moving freely across the board now. Laughing. Glowing. Choosing.

And with whispers of a certain someone from her past lurking in the wings, we have only one question left: What happens when the game off the ice turns personal? - The Benchwarmer”

“Hey,” Ryan said soft and confident, standing upright and sliding his hands into his pockets like he’d just bumped into you by accident. “Was hoping to see you here tonight.”

You blinked. “Ryan. I… didn’t know you were allowed down here.”

He held up his badge with a shrug. “I wasn’t at first. But my firm’s hosting a few clients in a suite. I saw the final buzzer, figured I’d check out the backstage energy.”

You forced a polite smile. “Well… hope you enjoyed the game.”

“I did. And you?” His eyes flicked to the jersey you were wearing—Auston’s name sprawled across your back in bold white letters. His smirk didn’t falter. “Looks like you’re enjoying it too.”

Your pulse skipped. “It was a great night for the team.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice dipping just slightly. “Listen… I know this might be a bit out of the blue, but do you wanna grab a drink or something? Just us? Catch up, you know?”

You hesitated for a moment. “Ryan, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

But then he slowly stepped in closer—only by a fraction, but it was enough. “C’mon, just one drink. Unless… you’re afraid your hockey star might get jealous?”

And that’s when it shifted.

The energy. The air. The invisible crackle of something electric behind you.

Because Auston had arrived.

You didn’t see him at first—you just felt him. The way the space around you changed, like it bowed slightly to his presence. And then his voice came, calm and cool but carrying an unmistakable edge.

“She said she’s not interested.”

Auston stepped up beside you, his hand resting gently but firmly against the small of your back. His body angled slightly forward—almost protective, grounded, a wall between you and whatever Ryan thought he was doing.

Ryan raised an eyebrow, eyes gleaming with challenge. “Wow. Straight to the defence. Guess that captain title really goes to your head.”

Auston didn’t flinch. “She said no.”

“I didn’t hear her say anything,” Ryan countered. “You always speak for her?”

Your mouth opened, but Auston beat you to it—his tone dipping even lower, dangerously quiet.

“She doesn’t need to say anything. You’re making her uncomfortable.”

Ryan scoffed. “Uncomfortable? I was making conversation. She’s my friend you know.”

Auston took a step closer. “Well, maybe you should just back off then and keep it at friends.”

Ryan laughed, but there was no real humour in it. Just a sharp edge laced with something darker. “Back off? What, you think just ‘cause you’ve got a few goals and a fan club, you get to be her personal bouncer now? I’ve known her for way longer than you have.”

Auston didn’t blink. “Sure, you have. But you’re still making her uncomfortable. And you’re not listening.”

Your heart pounded in your ears. You could feel the heat radiating off Auston, his calm starting to fracture, piece by piece.

Ryan shifted, cocking his head toward you, voice sharpening. “You seriously want this guy?” He gestured to Auston with a sweeping motion, scoffing. “Some overpaid, half-baked jock who spends more time doing press than using his brain? Come on. You used to want more than that.”

“That’s enough,” you said, but your voice didn’t carry—not over the tension.

Auston’s jaw clenched, his hand twitching at his side.

And Ryan saw it. Smelled blood. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. You don’t like when people get too close, huh? When someone better can take things from you.”

Auston stepped forward. Close now. His voice low. Maybe even dangerous.

He noticed the people around him, around all three of you, starring but without inferring. Not yet at least.

“You’ve got three seconds to walk away.”

“Oh, I’m shaking,” Ryan drawled sarcastically, eyes narrowing. “Tell me, Matthews—what exactly do you think you are to her? A good fuck? A bank? Or are you just her rebound?”

You felt your breath catch—rage rising like wildfire in your throat. But Auston just exhaled through his nose, slow and measured.

“At least I’m the one she wants to kiss her,” he said evenly.

Ryan’s face twisted, something snapping. And then—

He shoved Auston. Not hard enough to drop him, but enough to send him a step back. Enough to cross a line.

“You don’t own her,” he spat, stepping forward again. “And if she had any sense left, she’d walk away from you.”

You instinctively moved between them, your hands pressing against Auston’s chest before he could react. His fist had already curled. His nostrils flared. He looked ready to swing.

“Please, just stop,” you said almost nervously.

Ryan laughed again, but it sounded bitter this time. “You really want to waste your time on a guy who can barely string two thoughts together unless it’s in front of a camera?”

You turned to him, voice suddenly steely. “Hey, he’s got more heart and more brains than you’ll ever have, Ryan. So maybe get out before you embarrass yourself further.”

Ryan’s mouth opened, maybe to snap back, maybe to apologise—but he didn’t get the chance.

“Yeah, get out buddy. She’s too good for you anyway.”

Auston didn’t move. But Ryan did. And with no warning, no build-up, he just swung. His fist connecting with Auston’s nose in a sickening thud.

A gasp tore from your throat. Auston staggered back a step, grabbing at his face, blood blooming beneath his nose instantly. Somewhere behind you, a door burst open. Shouts erupted. Two security guards and a teammate you couldn’t quite place rushed in.

Everything was chaos.

“Get him out!” someone barked.

Ryan didn’t resist. Just held up his hands, face tight with anger and pride as the guards ushered him back down the hallway.

You turned, immediately at Auston’s side. “Jesus fuck—Auston, are you okay?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just touched under his nose and winced, blood smeared across his knuckles. “I’m fine,” he muttered.

You looked at him—really looked—and felt your chest squeeze.

Because this wasn’t just about a punch. It was about everything. The pressure. The feelings. And the way it all suddenly felt impossible to ignore.

The corridor outside the treatment room still buzzed with the echoes of shouting, the weight of everything that had just happened hanging in the air like smoke. You could still feel it on your skin—the electric sting of adrenaline, the heat of Auston’s presence, the sound of your voice cracking through the chaos when you told Ryan to back off.

Now, that moment felt far away.

Inside the room, the fluorescent lights hummed low and steady. Auston sat on the edge of the treatment table, jersey peeled halfway down his torso, the blue and white fabric bunched around his waist. His white undershirt was streaked with a faint smear of blood near the collar. His head tilted back slightly, eyes half-lidded beneath furrowed brows, while the trainer dabbed carefully beneath his nose with a sterile cloth.

He looked calm. Too calm. Like someone who’d learned to bottle his rage and store it behind a locked jaw and unreadable stare.

You hovered just inside the door, hands clenched around the strap of your bag, your fingers sore from the way you’d gripped it during the fight. You weren’t sure what to say. Or do. Or feel.

The nurse glanced your way with a warm, knowing smile. “Just a light break,” she said softly, lowering the gauze and checking the bridge of Auston’s nose with gentle pressure. “Nothing that won’t heal. He’ll be fine.”

You nodded, offering a tight smile in return. But Auston still hadn’t looked at you. Not really. His gaze stayed pinned to a scuff on the wall opposite, jaw locked so tightly you could see the flicker of tension running along his cheekbone.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. The urge to say something clawed at your throat, but it came out softer than expected.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

That got his attention.

His eyes flicked to yours instantly—sharp and sudden, like a match struck in the dark. “Don’t be.”

“Ryan was out of line. I should’ve—”

“You did exactly what you should’ve.” His voice was firm, low, laced with something you couldn’t quite name—pride, maybe, or disbelief. He shook his head slowly, exhaling as the nurse stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her. “Thanks for standing up for me.”

You stepped closer, inch by inch, until you were just a breath away. The tension in your shoulders released just slightly.

“Always,” you whispered. “He shouldn’t have said those things… it wasn’t fair to you.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was alive—full of something simmering just beneath the surface, the kind of stillness that comes right before a storm. You could feel the pulse in your throat, in your wrists, in your core. Your heartbeat was so loud you wondered if he could hear it.

He was still watching you.

His eyes dropped—once, slowly—scanning the jersey hanging off your frame. His name stretched across your back. The sleeves bunched just above your elbows. You hadn’t changed after the game. You hadn’t wanted to.

Auston swallowed. Hard.

“You look…” He shook his head once, like the thought itself knocked something loose. “You look fucking beautiful tonight.”

You smiled, soft and unsure, but he didn’t.

His expression had shifted—something darker, needier curling in his eyes. Like the sight of you, in that jersey, defending him, coming to find him after the chaos—that had done something to him. Unlocked something he’d kept tucked away beneath captain’s speeches and stoic locker room interviews.

And when he finally stood—slowly, deliberately—closing the distance between you, you didn’t step back. Didn’t flinch. Just lifted your chin a fraction, lips parting in anticipation.

His hands found your jaw. Yours found the edge of his shirt.

And then he kissed you.

Not gently. Not cautiously.

Hungrily. Desperately.

You barely registered your bag slipping from your shoulder and hitting the floor with a soft thud. Auston’s hands were everywhere—cupping your jaw, sliding down the curve of your waist, gripping the hem of the jersey like he needed to prove to himself you were real and here and his.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “Watching you out there… looking like that… standing up for me like that? You… drive me so fucking crazy.”

You blinked, breath catching in your throat.

“Every time you opened your mouth tonight, I wanted to kiss you,” he added, voice raspier now. “Every time you smiled, I wanted to take you somewhere no one else could see.”

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t have to.

Because the look in his eyes had already told you everything.

Like the only thing that mattered now was reminding you—and himself—that whatever this was? It was already too far gone to pull back from.

The kiss grew sharper—tongues clashing, teeth catching, breaths mingling with increasing urgency.

You gasped when his hands gripped the back of your thighs and lifted you in one swift motion, setting you down on the edge of the treatment table like you weighed nothing. And then his hands were under your jersey—warm and possessive—and the rest of the world blurred out.

“Fuck,” he breathed, lips brushing your neck, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your fingers found the base of his shirt and tugged, eager for skin. “Then don’t.”

He growled—actually growled—against your collarbone, and the sound hit you low in your belly. One of his hands slid behind your back, pulling you flush against him while the other pushed between your thighs, parting them with just enough force to make you gasp.

“Already wet for me?” he muttered, mouth trailing up to your ear. “Or is this all new?”

You let out a shaky laugh that turned into a moan when his fingers pressed right where you were pulsing for him, just over the fabric of your jeans. “Can’t promise I’ll stay quiet.”

His mouth curved against your jaw. “Don’t even care.”

You kissed him again, this time harder—messy and desperate—and your hands moved on instinct. You reached for the waistband of his joggers, tugging just enough to feel the firmness beneath, already growing. Auston hissed through his teeth, gripping your hips tighter.

“Fuck,” he groaned, forehead resting against yours as he slipped his fingers past the button of your jeans, sliding down until he found your core—hot, slick, and already twitching for more.

Your breath caught. “Auston—”

He swallowed your name with another kiss, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles. You arched against him, biting your lip to stay quiet. His thumb caught your clit just right and your hips jerked in response.

“Just like that,” he murmured. “You’re so perfect like this.”

Your hand had slipped inside his waistband too, curling around the length of him—hard, heavy, already leaking against your palm. He bucked into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for a split second before opening again, dark and hungry.

“Need to feel you,” he muttered. “Need to be inside you.”

You nodded—because yes, god, yes—and he didn’t wait for anything else. He pushed your jeans down, just enough, tugging your underwear with them. You kicked them off one leg while he shoved his joggers and briefs down just enough to free himself, and then—

He spread your legs open, lined his tip with your entrance before he slid into you in one smooth, needy thrust, burying himself deep. Both of you exhaled sharp, broken sounds against each other’s skin.

You clung to him. He gripped your hips. And the treatment table creaked faintly beneath you as the rhythm built—quick, quiet, frantic.

Auston bit your shoulder to muffle a groan. You tangled your fingers in his hair to stay grounded.

It wasn’t romantic.

It wasn’t careful.

But it was real. Messy. Breathless.

Auston was buried deep inside you, one hand gripping your hip like it anchored him to reality, the other braced against the table to keep you steady. The sting of the vinyl beneath your thighs, the bite of his teeth against your collarbone, the press of his body—every inch of it was too much and somehow not enough.

Your forehead was pressed to his shoulder, your fingers tangled in the collar of his shirt as your bodies moved in sync—quick, desperate thrusts muffled by the rhythm of your panting breaths and the faint creak of the treatment table beneath you. It was frantic and overwhelming, and so, so fucking good.

And then—

“Hey Tony. You okay in there?” a voice called out from the hallway, muffled through the door but close enough to rip you both out of the moment.

You froze like you’d been struck by lightning.

Auston stiffened instantly, his hand shooting up to gently cover your mouth. You could feel his heart pounding through his chest as he leaned in toward the door, breath ragged.

“Yeah…” he called back, voice cracking slightly before he forced it deeper. “Just—uh—cleaning up. Give me a sec.”

Silence.

You held your breath until the faint sound of footsteps retreated down the hall. And then—

“Fuck,” Auston muttered under his breath, a wicked grin twitching at the corner of his mouth as he looked back at you, flushed and wide-eyed.

“Sorry,” you whispered behind his palm.

“Don’t be,” he growled. “We’re not done.”

He didn’t wait for permission. He never needed to—not when your body was already giving him every answer.

He started to move again, slow at first, like testing the water. But it didn’t take long for the urgency to return—like the interruption had only made him hungrier. You bit down on your lip to keep from gasping, your moans coming out as desperate little whimpers against his shoulder.

“Gotta stay quiet,” he murmured, voice thick and hoarse, “but you’re making it real fucking hard.”

His hand then slipped between your bodies, fingers finding your clit like they’d been magnetised. He circled it with a precision that made you bite back a cry, your whole body tensing against him.

Auston groaned low in his throat. “There she is.”

You squeezed his bicep, your thighs trembling. “Please…”

“Shhh,” he whispered, breath hot against your neck. “I’ve got you.”

And he did.

God, he did.

And when you came, biting down hard on your bottom lip to keep from crying out his name, Auston wasn’t far behind—his hips stuttering, arms shaking, face buried against your neck.

For a moment, you both just stayed there—still tangled, still pulsing in the quiet aftermath.

Your jeans were around one ankle, his shorts half-hitched, your jersey clinging to your back with sweat. Clothes wrinkled, bodies flushed, breathing still uneven.

You leaned back on your hands, heart thudding against your ribcage like it hadn’t quite caught up. Auston stood between your legs, head bent slightly as he pressed one last kiss to your collarbone, his hands smoothing over your thighs.

“We should really stop having sex in public places,” you said finally, your voice hoarse and half-laughing, like you didn’t quite believe the words yourself.

Auston chuckled, low and spent, his forehead brushing yours. “Probably.”

Then he pulled back just enough to flash that boyish grin—the one that made him look far too innocent for what he’d just done. “But I’m not even a little sorry.”

You smiled, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as your body slowly came back to you.

“Neither am I.”

He helped you off the table gently, fixing your jersey and brushing a hand through your hair. You reached for his shirt to straighten it. Somewhere in the distance, skates clicked across concrete and doors slammed. The world was waiting.

“Dearest Toronto reader,

did you feel that? The ice cracked tonight—and not just under skates.

Our Ice King racked up points like it was personal (and maybe it was). Knies continued his adorable domination with the kind of energy that makes entire sections swoon. Meanwhile, Rielly played like a man with a mortgage and something to prove, and Willy Styles? Let’s just say his downtown café companion wasn’t the only brunette raising eyebrows this week.

But even a solid 3–0 win couldn’t steal the spotlight from the real show backstage.

A certain ex tried to re-enter the chat, badge and all. But here’s the twist: it wasn’t Auston who drew first blood—it was her. The Queen. The one wearing his number. The one who didn’t flinch when voices rose and fists flew. She didn’t need saving. She didn’t wait to be claimed. She stood tall. Chose her position. And made it very clear whose side she was on.

And if you thought that was the end? Think again. Word is, a treatment room bore witness to more than bruises tonight. Let’s just say there was passion. There was heat. There was a jersey half off and a door barely locked.

So yes—this game is getting messier. Hotter. More dangerous. And it’s the Queen who’s holding court now.

She’s not moving to check the King. She’s moving for herself. And if that shakes the board?

Let it fall.

Yours always.

The Benchwarmer”

#The Benchwarmer #inexperienced!reader x Auston #auston matthews fanfic #Toronto maple leafs fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl romance #nhl imagines

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readychilledwine · 11 months ago

Note

may i pretty please request a little cassian one shot where it’s a very out going reader who is NOT shy at all and never balks from anything unless it’s sex related and cassian absolutely loves undoing her once she gives in and making her all flustered and needy with his little taunts. LORD—

specifically from the smut prompt list:

“I know you’re not shy, so come here.” or like “Use your words, baby.” with a possible sprinkle of exhibitionism oh pls pls pls pls if this makes sense idk lol

Good Girl

Summary - Your birthday celebration at Rita's becomes Cassian's golden chance to end your 2 year shy and dry streak.

Warnings - voyeurism/exhibitionism, smut, fingering, oral, hair pulling, choking, spanking, unprotected sex, possession/ownership kink, dirty talk, cream pie

A/N - Happy Birthday, @sarawritestories! I was already finishing up this request, and your birthday actually made finishing this one shot easier. I wanted Cassian to have a special reason to fulfill one of reader's fantasies.

I hope you and my tumblr baby, @loneliestluvr enjoy this so so much 💕

✨️Cassian Masterlist✨️General Masterlist✨️

Cassian was watching you like a hawk tonight. Eyes glued on how your body danced in time to the music, to how Mor touched you as you two moved in time. He hated when you acted like this, so bold and brave in public. So okay with being touched by anyone but him. Talking a big bold game in your book club with Amren, Feyre, and Mor about wild sex you've never had.

You two had been mates for over 2 years, yet heated kisses and heavy petting was as far as you had let him go. It was driving him feral. Every time he had tried to get you into his bed or prepared to crawl on his knees to get into yours, it was something. “My cycle,” or “a headache,” or “Not a good body day,” whatever the fuck that meant. You were perfect to him. Curves in all the right places just begging and teasing him to touch. Cassian craved to be the reason your thighs clenched, to just once be the reason his shy girl screamed. He felt his lust growing as you and Mor approached the table, and the way your scarlet red birthday dress clinged to your figure, sparkling in the lights, made it worse.

His mate, his love, looked like the picture perfect face of innocence in his color when he knew the nasty things you read about, talked about, and fantasized about was too much. “Come with me,” Cassian's alluring voice hit your ear so softly. You took his hand, following him with both of you carrying your drinks in hand.

As Cassian pulled you further into Rita's, you began to blush. The lights had turned to a deep shade of red, doors locked and glowing to indicate they were occupied while some were open. Cassian smirked and pulled you into his goal room, thankful that for once, it was empty. As if the Mother had intended for this night to go exactly as he wanted. He had you against the glass wall instantly when the door shut.

“Why are we in here,” your face began to flush his favorite shade of pink. Glaze tinted glass was the only thing separating you and Cassian from the rest of Rita's. The private room of the pleasure hall was reserved for only the most bold couples, showing just their silhouettes as they partook in activities you could hardly dream of.

Cassian trapped you between him and that glass, towering over you, “Don't get shy on me now, baby.” His lips crashed on yours after the request, hot and heavy as he lifted you and forced your legs around his waist. You didn't know if it was the shots helping you relax, or your hope to have finally had birthday sex with Cassian, but here you were, moaning softly into his kiss as he pulled your hair back and began kissing down your throat and nipping softly.

“Need you to be a good girl for me,” you shivered at his murmured words. “Going to fulfill that dirty little fantasy of yours. Give you the best birthday present." You couldn't help the soft moan and smile, knowing instantly what he meant.

This room was visible behind the bar. The silhouettes of the people inside dancing like shadows on that glass for all to see as they ordered their drinks. You had dreamed for years of being taken in this room and had made the mistake of drunkenly sharing that fact with Rhys and Azriel.

Cassian began to untie the corset laces of your dress, suddenly annoyed by the back that the whole back was held together by the ribbon instead of him having to deal with just one small area. But Gods, it hugged you in the best places, showing your curves and dips in a way that had him drooling for you. He could hardly wait as it finally fell to the floor and you were bare beneath. He quickly set you on the lounging chair, knowing you were in view of everybody.

He'd never undressed himself so quickly, growling at the sight of your soft skin. Be wasted no time trailing his kisses lower. Worshiping each of your nipples until they came to perfect peaks. “Such a beautiful girl. My little exhibitionist.” He continued his path lower, nipping at your hips before kissing down your luscious thighs. He held eye contact with you then, as his kisses trailed up in the inside of your right thigh. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

The question lit a fire inside of you, body now aching for more of him, to please him, “Yes, General.” He smirked as his title rolled off your tongue before licking up your core. The taste of you made him hum. And he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves slightly before circling and flicking it with his tongue. He repeated that after watching your head fall back and your body arch.

He took his time, tasting every drop of you and rotating between sucking your clit and pushing his tongue as deep into you as he could. Your legs began to tremble below him after denying your body what you had craved for so long. You both knew it would be fast, hot, and passionate. You could worship each other at home, but here, here was built for sin, nothing more, nothing less.

Cassian began to slowly work a thick finger into you, stretching you open for him while his mouth focused on your swollen bundle of nerves. Your body felt as if you were burning alive as your stomach felt tighter and tighter. Moans and pants falling into breathless noises. Cassian listened with sick pride as his normally composed and eloquent mate began crumbling for him, because of him.

He looked up and saw your pleading eyes, “What do you need? Use your words, baby.” He smirked as he went back to working your core, prepping you for your first time taking an Illyrian.

“More, please General, more,” you finally begged for him, eyes rolling back as your back arched hard. He worked a second finger into you, growling at how tight you were, at the thought of how good you'd feel around him. You cried out as his fingers finally found the spot he'd been looking for and curled into it. Moments passed like breaths, his name repeated over and over until you finally gave him what he wanted, your release.

He knew other fae could hear you screaming his name in ecstasy, but he could not bring himself to care as he worked you down from the High. “That's my good girl,” he groaned as he pulled his mouth from you, licking his lips to savor every bit of your essence before pulling his fingers out and holding them to your mouth, “I want you to clean them. I want you to taste the nectar of a Goddess.”

The words hit exactly how he needed them and you became hazy eyed, licking and sucking his digits as an almost tingly feeling settled into your body. As soon as you were done, he flipped you over, pulling your hips in the air before you could try to protest or return any favors. Tonight was for you. For your pleasure, and he was just getting started.

You gasped as the feel of his cock lined up and sitting at your entrance, “Hold on to something, y/n.” He pushed in hard before you could respond, forcing you to plant both hands on the glass and keeping you trapped. “So fucking tight. The prettiest and most perfect pussy.” His pace became relentless quickly. Hand coming down on your ass before squeezing it hard.

There were no words or noises coming from your mouth, just bliss making your jaw fall open in silence. You felt like you were drooling, drunk on him, on his feeling, on the way you could feel every vein and he pushed and pulled. But you weren't close enough for Cassian, and soon he grabbed you by your hair, forcing you to arch your back as he kept pounding into you. Your shoulders met his lower chest as his other hand moved to your front, brushing your clit slowly and teasingly. “Do you know how long I've waited,” his voice was low and deep, filled with his own pleasure. “Been dreaming about you going dumb on my cock for years and here you are, unable to even speak.”

You could only whimper in response as his hand moved from your hair to your throat, testing your limitations. “I could stay inside you forever,” his head fell back. “Love this body of yours forever. So fucking perfect. Every godsdamned inch of you.” The praise hit you, pushing you towards the edge again as his pace became sloppy. “Not going to last, baby. Cauldron this pussy. Best pussy I've ever had.”

That made you gasp, eyes lighting up in excitement, “Yeah? You love filling me, don't you?” His smirk grew at your response. “You love knowing my pussy is all yours, huh?”

He growled, a feral instinct waking up with those words. His fingers began to move fast in your clit, forcing words to turn to cursing, moans, and whimpers. “All fucking mine. My mate. My wife. My good girl. Mine,” the edge in his voice left no room for arguments, no way to fight and even try to claim otherwise if you had wanted. “Scream. Scream my name so every single soul in Velaris knows who you belong to.”

Your lip trembled as how close you were and you moaned his name, “Cassian-”

“Louder.”

His pace became impossibly quick and your mind became numb to anything but the pleasure of him hitting your gspot over and over while his fingers worked your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Cassian!”

“Come. Come for your General.”

You came screaming his name so loudly you were sure all of Velaris did know who you belonged to. Your core began fluttering around Cassian, triggering is own orgasm. He pumped himself deep inside of you, releasing directly into your heat as he groaned your name.

He squeezed your throat gently when you both came down before releasing it, allowing your sore body to rest as his head found the spot between your shoulder blades. The room was heavy in the scent of your shared bond as it hummed and burned brightly between the two of you. “I'm never going a day without you again,” Cassian panted before turning your head to kiss you softly. “Happy Birthday, y/n."

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlestw01f

#elizabeths.updates #acotar #acotar x reader #send asks #cassian x reader #cassian acosf #cassian acotar #cassian smut #cassian fanfic #cassian of illyria #lord of bloodshed

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yuikomorii · 5 months ago

Text

AYAYUI IDOL AU: Chapter 1

// I present to you… MY FIRST EVER FANFIC! It’s inspired by these headcanons and these posts. As mentioned before, in this story, the Sakamakis are simply regular idols with a vampire-themed concept; they’re not actually vampires or related. Since I noticed how much you all enjoy this kind of content and have been so supportive, I thought you might like a fanfic based on it. ☺️

I’m by no means a professional writer, and my style leans more towards the visual novel/otome game format. Even so, I hope you’ll like it! 💕

Voice announcement: Ladies and gentlemen, we have now arrived at our destination.

Before you disembark, please take a moment to ensure you have all your personal belongings with you. For your safety, mind the gap between the train and the platform edge as you exit.

We sincerely thank you for choosing our services and travelling with us. It has been our pleasure to serve you, and we hope to welcome you aboard again soon. Take care!

Yui: ( Eh? Is this…—! )

— eyes widen —

I’m here… I’m finally here!

Yui’s Monologue

I can’t believe my dream is actually coming true! All this time, this seemed like a childish wish but right now I truly am in Tokyo…!

Uuh… I’m getting a bit emotional, but can you blame me? It simply feels… surreal.

I never thought my father would agree to let me join a work exchange program in such a massive and dynamic city.

To be honest, I was half expecting him to say no, but it seems he believes in me more than I thought.

Knowing that he trusts me this much… it really makes me want to work even harder to prove he made the right choice.

Yes, that’s so. I will try my best to make father proud!

— takes big breath —

Yui: Nice to meet you, Tokyo. Let’s make this journey one to remember.

Place: Studio

Photographer: And~… pose! Ah yes, exactly like that! Keep on, keep on!

Ayato: ( Man, this shit is so tiring at this point. )

— smiles falsely —

Photographer: W-Wonderful…! Another one, thank you!

— keeps taking pictures —

Ayato: ( Can this woman stop blinding me with that flashlight already? It’s past 11 pm… )

Photographer: Now, a profile sho——

Manager: Hold on.

Pardon my intrusion, but I believe we already have enough pictures for today. Don't you think so?

Photographer: Eh? But we just got star— Oh my, it’s almost 12 am!?

G-Geez, my apologies. I guess the saying “time flies when you’re having fun” must really apply here.

— winks at Ayato —

Ayato: ( Gross! )

Manager: If more promotional pictures are required, we can extend the photoshoot to tomorrow. Watanabe-san, would it be possible for you to arrive earlier if that is the case?

Photographer: With such eye candy around, who could resist spending more time with him~?

Fufu, just kidding. I'll contact the director and get back to you with an answer as soon as possible.

Until then, have a good night! Bye-bye~!

— leaves —

Ayato: Haa… thanks goodness! One more photo, and I might’ve completely lost it.

Manager: I understand completely. Given your schedule, it’s clear you’re quite overworked. Nevertheless, it’s impressive how you still manage to perform so well.

Ayato: Heh… thanks.

— rubs eyes —

Manager: You look a bit tired, Ayato-san. Rest assured, the limousine should be arriving soon.

Ayato: Right, the limo is on its——

( Fuck! I can’t believe I almost forgot about it! )

Wait! Now that I think about it, I’ve got something else to take care of.

So… don’t mind me! Go ahead and take the limo; I’ll call for another one later.

Manager: Haa… Ayato-san.

You're not planning to do something that could get you into trouble, are you?

Ayato: O-Of course not! It’s just… no, it’s nothing important. Just a silly little thing I remembered I had to solve.

— tries to leave —

Manager: Ayato-san!

Ayato: Huh?

Manager: Do NOT let anyone see you, understood?

— Ayato nods and leaves —

???: You’re late.

Ayato: …!

Man, you almost gave me a heart attack!

Laito: My bad~. You came prepared at least, didn’t you?

Ayato: Yeah, yeah.

— puts cap and mask on —

Laito: Nfu, let’s go, shall we?

Place: Street

Yui: Uuh… come on! Why is no taxi in sight?

( It’s been two hours and I still couldn’t find my way to the Airbnb. )

( I knew Tokyo was huge, but I wasn’t expecting the transportation system to be this complicated… )

— looks at sky —

( It’s already late, huh? )

( I wonder if it’s safe for a girl to roam on these streets at this hour. Well, at least I hope it is, otherwise… )

Place: Private Night Club

Laito: Two Cosmopolitans. One for me, and one for that very fine lady over there, nfu.

Ayato: Another glass of Tequila.

Laito: Heh, another one? Is this the fifth by chance?

Ayato: I had a busy week, okay?

Laito: Ah, of course you did. After all, our Ayato-kun is the IT boy of this generation. Always swamped with brand deals, while the rest of us barely get a crumb~.

Ayato: …Not funny.

Laito: C’mon, don’t take it too seriously.

— pats his back —

I doubt any of us could care less about brand deals anyway. The idol job already pays well enough, and with barely any time for ourselves, why would we want to give up even more of our freedom?

Ayato: ( It’s not like it’s my choice though. )

Well, I can’t deny that the love I get is cool and all, but sometimes… hmm, how do I put it? It feels like people only like me because I’m an idol, y’know?

Laito: That’s to be expected, isn’t it? Fans often form a one-sided connection with idols simply because we’re constantly visible and accessible through the media, without really knowing who we are or what we’re capable of.

On top of that, you’re the visual, the face everyone admires. Who wouldn’t be drawn to someone who's not only stunning but also famous? It’s like the perfect package for embodying every girl’s fantasy.

Ayato’s monologue

Laito… he always knows what to say.

Seriously, this guy is so aware of everything around him to the point that it’s becoming unsettling.

And the worst part? He’s not just talking—he’s right, which is why it almost hurts to hear it.

At the end of the day, we idols are just puppets, carefully crafted to feed into the fans’ delusions. They don’t see us for who we truly are, but rather as a fantasy they can cling to.

And we, caught in the spotlight, are forced to live out that role.

Before becoming an idol, I was surrounded by people who kept me around because of my looks. At first, the amount of attention felt good, but as I mature, I realize just how hollow that really is.

I can’t help but wonder… if it weren’t for my appearance or status, would anyone actually treat me nicely? Would anyone be willing to accept me, flaws and all?

Heh… now I just sound stupid. As long as I’m an idol, I doubt I’ll get my answer anytime soon.

Waitress: Here we go, gentlemen. The Cosmopolitan and the Tequila.

Laito: Hello, earth to Ayato-kun, are you still in there?

— waves in front of his eyes —

Ayato: Yeah, yeah. I was just spacing out a bit.

Laito: Nfu, cheers.

Ayato: Cheers.

— they start drinking —

Ayato: Ngh…!

( My chest… it started aching! )

Laito: Hm, you good?

Ayato: Y-Yeah… I just— Ngh!

( It’s getting worse! )

I need some fresh air, that’s all.

— quickly puts on mask and cap —

I’ll be right back.

— quickly goes outside —

( Haa… Haa… what is happening…!? )

Agh… fuck!

( It hurts…! Could this be…—— )

— eyes widen —

( No… No, don’t tell me this is a real heart attack! )

Hnn… Ngh!

( What… what should I do now!? )

???: Quick! Please, drink this!!

— hands him water —

Ayato: Huh…?

— takes it and starts drinking —

???: A-Are you feeling better? I got another bottle in case you need it too.

Ayato: Haa… Haa… It’s okay now, all good.

???: Are you sure…? You really seemed in a lot of pain.

Ayato: Yeah… no worries.

( This girl… she just saved my life, didn’t she? )

By the way, uhm… thanks for that.

???: A-Ah, it’s nothing, really.

As far as I recall from my father, drinking water after alcohol can help reduce chest pain and lessen the severity of a hangover. I’m glad to see that it actually works.

Ayato: Heck yeah, I’m glad to see that it worked too, otherwise who knows how I would have ended up.

— the girl giggles —

???: You should be more careful though. Drinking too much alcohol can be very dangerous.

Ayato: ( Okay, mom. )

Yeah, yeah, I got it. I’m not usually like that.

Moreover… why exactly did you help me?

???: Eh? What do you mean?

Ayato: ( Could it be that she actually recognized me? )

( My face is practically hidden behind the mask and cap, and we’re in the dark, so there’s no way she could have, right? But if she did… )

???: Uuh… I suppose it was out of pure instinct.

Ayato: Instinct, huh?

???: Yup. You see, I heard you struggling, so there was no way I could brush that off.

Ayato: Hmm… But wait a minute, what were you doing all alone at this hour?

( What if she’s a stalker then? )

???: Ah… uhm… T-That’s a bit embarrassing to say out loud.

Ayato: Oh, come on, you straight up saw me about to drop dead from drinking Tequila. There’s no way this could be more embarrassing than that.

???: Actually… today’s my first day in Tokyo, and I’ve been struggling for almost 3 hours just trying to get to my Airbnb.

I tried taking the subway, but there were way too many lines, and I got lost at some point.

As for taxis, every time I tried to flag one down, the driver just ignored me.

Ayato: ( Nevermind, I’m taking it back. This might truly be more embarrassing. )

Pfft, why didn’t you call for a cab then?

???: I couldn’t find any reliable number…

Ayato: Hmm… Alright then.

I just arranged one for you. You’ll just have to tell them your location and wait for them to get you there. There’s also no need for you to pay.

— lends her money —

???: E-Eh!? Thank you… thank you so much! But I’m sorry, I just can’t accept the money!

Ayato: Nah, it’s fine, seriously. After all, you’re the one who helped me first.

Just promise me you won’t tell anyone about what happened today. Understood?

— the girl nods —

Ayato: Heh, great. Well, I guess it was nice to meet you. Now it’s time for me to return.

???: W-Wait! I forgot to catch your name!

Ayato: …!

( So she really doesn’t know me? )

It’s——

( No… it’s too risky. )

Oh look, the cab arrived! You should hurry up!

???: But—

( He left…? )

Yui’s monologue

As the taxi started moving, I found myself looking back, almost subconsciously, hoping to catch one last glimpse of that boy.

Today had been exhausting, but despite the strange circumstances in which we met, those brief minutes spent with him were oddly comforting.

I wonder who he is and what his life is like. It feels a bit silly, I know, to be thinking so much about someone whose name I don’t even know.

But there was something in his presence that made me feel in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.

Whatever it was, it stuck with me, lingering in my thoughts even after we parted ways.

My journey has only just begun, and yet I can’t shake the feeling that meeting him was no coincidence.

I really hope I get the chance to cross paths with him again.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #yui komori #ayato sakamaki #ayato x yui #ayayui #my fanfic #admin

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astrologylunadream · 1 year ago

Text

Your Person's POV of You 👀🌸🎀 (Pick a card/Tarot love reading)

Hii it's Lunadream🩷 This will be a reading on the desired person's perspective of you, and what you are like in their eyes~ hope you find your message🌸☆♡

Notice: Only take what resonates because the most important thing is your own judgement!♡ If anything doesn't resonate, don't worry! It's not your message right now <3 (Entertainment purpose only. All rights reserved)

Now, shall we begin~? ^w^ Think of the your person, and pick whichever pile that fits the energy you're feeling~🌸♡‧₊˚

Pile 1🖤

Pile 2🌸

Pile 3🍨

Pile 4🩰

Take your time and choose carefully with the heart~♡

On to the readings —> ‧₊˚🌸♡🎀‧₊˚

Pile 1🖤

Sign energy: Escape, Number, November, Skill, Feel, 5th house, Scorpio, Juno, 3rd house, Taurus, Vertex,🐾🩻🖇🤯

🩷Your person's energy: Heyy pile 1 your person is really cool omg, they have a lot of interesting abilities💫 specific message is that november 3rd may be significant, scorpio is present here and that is during scorpio season so take what resonates.💕 This person's voice gives you a special feeling, I feel like their voice leaves a big impression on you, could be the way they think or speak.💬 Signs in their chart could be Leo, Scorpio, Gemini, and Taurus. They are very perceptive and observant, they have a sharp mind I'm hearing🔪🧠 Random but they may have a fear of getting older?😂 Nothing gets past this person omg it's like they are able to read mind oml!! Physical touch may be their love language, they are very material. For some this person has your phone number or tries to get it, they may be a little obsessive when they're in the dark about things.🔦😬 This may have been a short term relationship for some of my pile 1's, and maybe you so called "escaped" this connection but they refuse to let you go that easily.🖇🖤 This person could be keeping tabs on you, and they get jealous and spiteful very easily.👿 You guys may have a telepathic connection with them, it feels like a locked force in a way. This person is very analytical, appearance wise their bones are prominent, boney hands for someone? Their nails are significant.💅🧤 I'm seeing deep gaze too. They can see through anyone, some of my pile 1's want to marry this person and or attracted to them🩷

🎀Their POV of you: 12th house, Health, Guidance, Comfort zone, Read, Gemini, 4th house, Eros, Aquarius, 10th house,🤤🙈🙎‍♂️🔭 Okay so their perspective of you is kinda emotional ngl🥺 Like there is a lot going on with you to them, you may be absent from this person's life right now or at a distant, something about you is definitely distant from this person.💔 For those of you who this is an ex I can definitely see they feel so left out.😭 Like they feel as if they're just behind the scenes watching you drift away from them, also some of you may leave this person on read often.🔇✋️ They only feel at ease when they know what you're up to, for some of my pile 1's this person is viewing your social media and that is their only source of comfort right now😢📲🔭 They see you as someone very intelligent and fun, they're really into your mind🧠🤒 Some of my pile 1 are into health and self care and they blush over that, they just find your niches so inspiring and attractive😂 They are definitely sad about the thought of you moving on without them, they hyperfocus on you my pile 1's OML🤯🔍 They think of you often blushing over you like🥴💭 You seem like you really know what you're doing and they love that, you also turn them on too especially by helping them with things😳🩷 You come off succesful and divinely blessed and favored in their eyes, you make them feel like a ghost👻 You are a comforting and sweet person to them, they just want to hold on to you and never let go🥺🖤 For some this person stalks your social media or asks about you a lot, they are heavily involved spiritually with you.

💌Messages from your person: I wish I cared about you, I won't let you be with anyone else, I'm not okay, I wanna make you blush, Who cares what people think of us, You can't control yourself, all the time, I was wrong (Yeah they really don't want to see you with someone else, also they have regrets weighing on them about how they acted in the past🥺🩷💖) Extra cards: Remedy, Collarbone, Chains, Self love, Couple, 4th house, 11th house, Water, Chiron, Sagittarius (Pile 1 they really wanna mend this relationship with you omg😭 Also they're working on treating themselves better so they can treat you better, they want to take care of you💗)

Thank you my pile 1's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message! ‧₊˚🌸‧₊˚♡

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 1 with the black heart emoji~🖤 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading! 🩷‧₊♡˚‧

Pile 2🌸

Sign energy: Touch, Social media, Be yourself, Discover, Cardinal, 3rd house, Libra, 11th house, Aries, Jupiter,🚀🎧🤹‍♀️🔊

🩷Your person's energy: Haha okay your person is a lot like you I'm getting mirrored energy OMG and the image for pile 2 is staring into the little mirror that makes so much sense!!😆💫 So this person has cardinal placements, especially Aries ia significant and that is a cardinal sign. Gemini, Libra, Aquarius, and Sagittarius/Pisces lucky jupiter placements.🤞✨️ I feel like they just stumble through life and it turns out alright everytime time??😂😂🩷 They're a ray of sunshine omg, they could have many friends online and explore social media, I'm getting social butterfly vibes from your person~🦋🌸 So cute omg they enjoy listening to music and following their artists. They probably have some really good playlists tbh😉💖 They have a lot of different interests, into many things. Your person is probably has 163 tabs open on google LOL, they love exploring the internet that's what I'm getting. They're a phsyical kind of person too so they may enjoy working out or doing fun and/or crazy things, this person is energetic and bright🌟 I love their energy it's so sweet!! I'm getting Phineas and ferb vibes like they just wanna do everything like if it were up to them they would build an amusement park LMAO they're just so funloving and sporadic, it is never a dull moment with them.☺️💝 You may have met them through social media, they could be an influencer for some of my pile 2's. Their brain works like lightning and they can multi-task a lot. They may be loud sometimes when they're having fun, their touch is like a spark💫

🎀Their POV of you: Aura, Jewelry, Work, Warm, Attraction, Vertex, 12th house, 2nd house, Taurus, Mercury, 🟫🫠🩷😬 Ah so first of all, your voice is so appealing to this person omg they are REALLY attracted to the sound of your voice🗣 Also they are attracted by your neck area, if you wear any jewelry especially necklace they will be head over heels omg🥺❤️‍🔥 There is such a sweet energy to your relationship with them, they see you as a very venusian person.😊🌸💐 You may have prominent venus aspects in your chart, also your mindset is very sweet to them.💭 You radiate a warm delightful energy that they can't get enough of, you may look good in brown to them or if you have brown hair or eyes😳🤎 You just look expensive to this person, they just wish they could buy you if you were for sale LMAO😂 Your voice has a calming effect on them, it literally just melts them omg they sort of fantasize about your neck and tone of voice.🎼 For some of my pile 2's who are working, they see you as very charming in your work environment, also someone who is luxurious in nature.💸💼 They view you as someone very laid back, to them you appear sweet and calm. They would like seeing you wearing pearls, and warm colors look best to them on you.🩷 They see you as the type to spend a lot of money on yourself and nice things💅🛍👑 You come off as a queen/king energy to them, and you make them nervous a little. There is a lot of romantic feelings for my pile 2's it's so sweet, I can just picture you two not taking your hands off eachother if you ever get the chance to.🥺🩷

💌Messages from your person: I know I'm good, You act like you own me, Whatever makes you happy, It's hard to stay positive, Be careful, You look a little down, I've been waiting for you, I met you before (Ohh pile 2 they want you to be happy and satisfied with everything✨️🏆) Extra cards: Bedroom, Confirm, Deserve, 7th house, Present, Scorpio, Vertex, Leo, Pluto, Neptune (Some 🔞 coming through, let's just say they want to spoil you rotten like you deserve them😳♨️ head over to one of my darker pacs if you're interested in that)

Thank you my pile 2's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message! ‧₊˚🌸‧₊˚♡

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 2 with the cherry blossom emoji~🌸 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading! 🖤‧₊♡˚‧

Pile 3🍨

Sign energy: Rose, Danger, Dessert, Respect, Therapy, Mercury, 8th house, Cancer, Earth, Libra,♑️🌻🫱👀

🩷Your person's energy: Oh my pile 3's person is very soft, there is a lot going on here I'm getting family situations from your person. They could be very close to their mother figure/guardian, but they may not have the best relationship with their father/masculine figure.😟 Signs in their chart can be Gemini, Virgo, Scorpio, Cancer, Libra and Capricorn, also earth signs. Flowers may be significant, maybe spring.🌸💐 They could have issues with abandonment in their younger years, this person is very delicate by nature.💞 They have high respect for feminines and their mother figure, they dislike seeing those kinds of people being taken advantage of or threatened.🥺 Oh my god pile 3 your person is so sweet, they may like plants or can take care of them well. They have a lot of nurturing qualities, very caring and understanding😇🫂 They could have a problem with overconsuming sugar or sweets, maybe they have a bit of a sweet tooth.🍰🍨🍭 Omg it's funny because this pile is represented by the sundae emoji I almost forgot!! They are very loving and have a soft feminine aura about them (regardless of gender), they speak so pretty and nice, their words are so charming😭✨️ they can be very protective when threatened, also could have boney hands or delicate fingers.🤚 You could stare at their hands a lot. Some of my pile 3's are a little obsessed with this person, you want to touch them😂 maybe in places you shouldn't?😳 Anyways?? Your person is like a rose, delicate and sweet aura.🌹🥰 Their eyes are attractive, very sensitive vibe to your person!!

🎀Their POV of you: Masculine, Doctor, Jawbone, Number, Leader, 12th house, Air, Lilith, 1st house, Juno,😁🤑🌏💎 Lol so they see you as very ambitious and unstoppable🏆✨️💗 You give off aries vibes to this person, they think you are number one.🥇 You heal them in some way, most likely spiritually. You are like free therapy to them, and they have gone through a lot so they really need it🥺🩷 You appear very bold and capable to them, they see you as a natural leader.👑 Also marriage material!!💍 You make them smile, also you are very hot to this person so don't be surprised if they fantasize about you😂🫣💋 Your jawbone grabs their attention, they find it really hot. You may have a prominent jawline, or your bone structures catch their eye.👀 Your physical appearance is very much ideal to them, like they struck gold the second they lay eyes on you.😂✨️ You have a fearless energy in their eyes, they think you're really cool.🥰 You may get hurt often? They want to take care of you and treat your wounds.🩹💕 You come of very assertive and fiery to them, their perspective and how they see you is really really hot lmao.❤️‍🔥 You are a "catch" to them, they view you as something dangerously attractive, your presence makes them fall to their knees😂😂😂 They love your magnetic aura, you give off the hot villain vibes to your person oml they are so down for that too💋 Siren vibes, to them you're like a forbidden fruit pile 3!! Lol they can't resist.

💌Messages from your person: I don't know who I am, It's so hard to resist you, You've been hurt so much, No one makes me feel this way, I don't want anyone else, Put your hand on mine, Be honest, We both know the truth (Oooh pile 3 they even said it they CANT resist you just like mentioned before!!😍🩷) Extra cards: Release, Ordinary, Compliment, Amusement, Safe, Earth, Moon, Juno, Taurus, Fire (They want to release their excitement for you pile 3, also just wanna make you feel safe and cared for🥺)

Thank you my pile 3's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message! ‧₊˚🌸‧₊˚♡

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 3 with the sundae emoji~🍨 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading! 🖤‧₊♡˚‧

Pile 4🩰

Sign energy: Balence, Earth, Confrontation, Moon, Follower, Mars, Neptune, South node, Taurus, Capricorn,🧋🩸😍🚫

🩷Your person's energy: So there is some tension going on within this pile, this person has had conflict in the past, I'm getting emotional hurt with this person.😢 They have a masculine energy to them (regardless of gender) and they could have very solid earthy features, Capricorn mars could be significant.✨️ Signs in their chart are Aries, Scorpio, Pisces, Taurus and Capricorn. I feel like they are less expressive and a little closed off, like they have a guard up for some reason✋️🌧 But deep down they are quite emotional, especially in the past. They may have shoved their emotions away to appear tough👿⚔️ They could drink tea often, I feel like they have had a lot on their shoulders at one point🥺💔 when provoked they can become very cold, not afraid to step on anyone who tries to hurt them.👞 I am getting very strong capricorn energy for this pile's person, they give off capricorn aura on the outside. They could be against love right now, they're in a no romance kind of energy.🩷❌️ I'm hearing balence like credit card balence so they could have a lot of money.💳💲😎 They may have many followers or collaborators, for some of you this person is an influencer/business person.💼✨️ Could have a lot of admirers/problems with gold diggers for some of my pile 4's. You may fantasize about them a lot, but also you may really feel like they aren't interested in you at all✋️🚫😒 Their demeanor is very stand offish, but they are really sweet on the inside they just keep that part of them locked away for their own safety.🥺 Prominent earth energy you know how it be sometimes they feel distant af😭

🎀Their POV of you: Girlie, Outfit, Practical, True feelings, Air, Juno, Mercury, Water, 9th house, Eros,🧡🦁🥱✌️ Ah I can't say I didn't see this one coming, my lovely pile 4's your person has feelings for you they just don't want to let it out😂 They see you as an ideal type for them, they're honestly attracted to you.💋 But they don't wanna admit this, you really turn them on tbh😏 You have a bright loving aura they can't seem to look away from, the spark in your eyes just makes them fall honestly. You give off funloving explorer vibes to this person, they see you as someone Intelligent and curious.💡💫 In their eyes, you have this cute little smile that looks like it'll stir up some crazy fun. •^• reminds me of that face!!🥰 They see you as something chaotic, yet irresistibly charming.✨️ You may talk boldly or self assertively, however it is you talk, it seems to draw attention to yourself. They may get frustrated by your charms, also the way you dress steals their attention completely.😍❤️‍🔥💓 For some of my pile 4's they may call you girlie or refer to you like that (regardless of gender). They try to be realistic and practical about their feelings for you, which is why they seem closed off and hesitant to show affection🥺🩷 They could be telling themselves not to fall for you, because they don't want to feed into their desires. You definitely shine in their eyes, and have a lot of attraction for you guys👏🙌 You give off a bubbly vibe to your person, they're honestly concerned by how madly in love they could fall for my pile 4's lmao🩷 I'm seeing true feelings coming to the surface from your person, it's like one of those novels where they pretend they're not falling for them but they actually are loll that's your person! From their perspective they are trying to resist love but you make it so hard lol😂

💌Messages from your person: Surprise me, You might get scared, I knew it, Say my name, I do, It's no surprise, I have fantasies about you, No one knows (Yep saw it coming my pile 4's they have a lot of feelings for you🥺💓 Also it sounds like they're telling you to say your marriage vows for them lmaooo like SAY IT😤💍🩷) Extra cards: Subconscious, Recognition, Accident, Back off, Cover, Cancer, 1st house, 2nd house, 4th house, 8th house (Every time this person realizes how they feel about you, they act all cold. Like the second they start thinking you're hot they freak out and deny it😂😭 Some intense attraction for my pile 4's they don't wanna admit it!!)

Thank you my pile 4's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message! ‧₊˚🌸‧₊˚♡

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 4 with the ballet slipper emoji~🩰 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading! 🖤‧₊♡˚‧

Wanna see more readings like this? Check out my tumblr for accurate readings for you!💗🌊🌸

Thanks for reading! \(*^w^)/💌 -Lunadream <3

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