#*gently hands you this one handful of rat*

[loves1ckmoth]

LITTLE HELPER

Modern Gym Rat!Vi x Reader

Warnings: Fem!reader, I don't work out often and I think it shows, I've also never used any gym equipment except from p.e. classes over the years, It's okay though, vi is very gentle with sleepy reader, she is like a puppy, she complains in the beginning, mentioned that she binds in the beginning, petnames (darling), definitely not my best work I'm so sorry

Word Count♡: 867

Vi has been complaining a lot lately. Mostly about the gym. “My partner didn’t show up today!” or “My spotter was awful” and your personal favorite, “It would’ve gone so much better if you were there.” You loved it. Loved the way she would drape herself over you as your hands diligently massage out the knots caused by her grueling workouts.

You can hear the door slam as she groans with frustration. “Darling? Are you there?” Her voice rings throughout the house, and you drop the laundry you were folding. “In the bedroom!” You shout back, resuming the folding. You’re prepared for her to drop in on you, however.

And so she does. You feel a thud against the bed as she flops down, and then her hands as she crawls over to your lap. You set the binder of hers you were folding aside, and place a hand on her hair. Her hand covers yours and she pulls it down to hold her face.

“Long day, I assume? Was your uhm… your spotter? Were they not there again?” At that, she groans loudly. “He’s never there anymore. We made a pact for the new Year that we’d reach our goals this year, but I’m convinced he’s given up. Do you know how demotivating that is?”

You hum noncommittal, continuing to stroke her hair. “So you have to go alone now I assume?” You suggest. She groans and rolls over onto her stomach. “It’d be so much easier if you went with me.” She says for the nth time. You tilt your head.

“What if I did go with you? I promised you I’d tag along eventually, and I could help spot you.” She immediately jumps up at that, beaming brightly. “Would you!?” You giggle at her enthusiasm and nod. “I’d be happy to. You talk about it so much I want to go myself.”

She jumps up and tackles you onto the bed, smothering you with kisses from her chapstick-covered lips. You push her face away, having dissolved into a fit of laughter. “You’re finally using that chapstick I gave you?” She smiles and puckers her lips at you.

“Minty, isn’t it?” She says as she nuzzles into you. She sighs, collapsing and weighing you down. “‘M tired. Let’s take a nap. In the morning, I’ll take you for my early workout. Sound good?” She speaks gently, tracing a hand over your side like a self-soothing ritual. You hum a response, closing your eyes to nap with her.

In the morning, she gently helps dress you, accounting for your still tired form. You usually wake up when she gets back from her morning workout. You’re out the door in around 10 minutes and she guides you into the passenger seat and shoves an energy drink into your hands.

The drive to the gym is relatively quiet as she has the radio low and hums to the tune of it. The gym is mostly empty by the time you get there. She walks over to a bench press machine and has you stand behind it. “Do you wanna spot me on this one? It’s really easy and I won’t go too high so if I mess up, you can help.”

She shows you the proper form and position before getting on the bench. She does 20 reps, and you watch her curiously. She smiles up at you, pushing the bar with ease. “What now?” you ask after helping pull the bar back into its proper position.

“The rest of the stuff I plan to do doesn’t require a spotter, but you can stay and talk with me if you like. We could do something simple if you wanna have something to occupy yourself. There's a machine that works your thighs over there. It’s a little awkward, but I’ll be there with you.”

You nod, and she takes your hand to lead you over. You like it when she does that. The way she looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars. She treats you like a princess. She’s right when she says the machine is awkward. It requires you to spread your legs open and stretch them as far as you can. Thankfully, however, she stands in front of you so no one else in the gym will see.

She adjusts your posture when needed and adds weight when you can handle it. She makes sure to tire you out for the rest of the time you spend at the gym and you walk out the door achy and exhausted. The drive home is a blur. All you remember is her calloused but gentle hands picking you up and throwing you over her shoulder.

A sharp gasp of air releases from you as you’re slung over, and you flop your head down into her neck. “Thank you, Vi…” You mumble sleepily as she lays you back down on the bed. She smiles, tucking you in. “Of course, darling. Thank you for coming with me, even if all it did was tire you out.”

You groan quietly as you melt into the bed and Vi pulls away to finish the laundry you started last night.

Hello everyone!! My cait fic got a shit ton of attention, so I might start writing her more!! Reminder that my requests are open and suggestions are wanted :3 reblogs and likes are most appreciated ♡

[holylulusworld]

Here we go again

Summary: He turns 47 today.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Bestfriend!Reader (GN) - platonic

Warnings: RPF, banter, birthday fluff

“Here we go again,” Jensen grumbles under his breath. He looks in the mirror again, searching for another line on his face. “Another year older.”

“Jay, we are going to run late,” you call from outside the bathroom. “If you put on makeup, hurry up.” You chuckle when he calls you a jerk.

“I love you too, bitch! Now get out of the bathroom. Everyone is waiting for us at the restaurant. Remember, your friends and family. The ones wanting to celebrate your forty-seventh birthday with you.”

“Don’t mention my age,” he huffs, but finally steps out of the bathroom. Jensen looks as handsome as ever, even while he wrinkles his nose.

“Aw, don’t tell me you are feeling your age, Ackles,” you snicker, but gently pat his cheek. “Come on. You’re the most handsome bastard out there. You have a beautiful wife; and the cutest kids, and your career is far from over.”

“Jeez, you make the best compliments,” Jensen grins, but you can see the pride in his eyes for a second. “So, will you tell me about that secret party you planned, or do I have to tickle it out of you?”

 “As if you’d be able to make me rat our friends out.” You purse your lips and cross your arms over your chest. “Do your worst, Ackles. If you’re brave enough.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “We should head out. You’re right. If we’re running late, they will get mad. I’m too old to run away from an mob.”

“I’ll help you escape,” you wink at Jensen. “What are best friends for if not help you hide from your wife if she gets angry at you for messing up the surprise party they planned for months up.”

“It won’t be an over-the-top kind of party, right?” He asks. “Please tell me it’s a normal surprise party. This old man can’t take too much stress today. I’m getting old.”

“I swear, if you don’t stop calling yourself an old man, I’ll slap your ass.” You cock a brow when he considers your words. “Trust me, I know how to bruise it. You won’t sit properly for a week. And when your wife asks what happened, you’ll tell her that your best friend slapped your ass for talking low about yourself.”

“Fine,” he huffs. “I’m a youngster in my best years. I don’t feel my age and look better than ever.”

“See, that’s the spirit, Ackles!” You clap your hands and grin at your friend. “Now I need you to put this one.” When you are handing Jensen a blindfold, you grin because he gives you a stern look. “What? Don’t you trust me?”

“If I end up in Mexico, missing a kidney, I’ll kill you!” He takes the blindfold out of your hands. “I’m warning you.”

“When was the last time that this happened?”

“Uh-last year?” Jensen accuses as he puts the blindfold on. “Minus the missing kidney, though.”

“No missing kidneys. Noted,” you say, and slap his ass. “Now chop-chop. We’ve got a party to attend…”

[magistralucis]

@love-and-pigeons!

exactly One handful of rat

[twinstxrs]

so much happened in this whole episode but i’m still on fig infiltrating ruben’s dream, making it look like the place where his friend was murdered, and then disguising herself as kipperlilly & repeatedly saying different variants of “somebody needs to take the fall for this, and it’s not going to be me. it’s going to be you.” while adaine as the elven oracle shows up next to her. can you imagine waking up from that, the idea of a horrible truth being pinned on you by your friend to save her own skin while the personification of fate and destiny stands there, almost as a promise that this is GOING to happen to you. we don’t even know if this kid is guilty. my god.

[emmyrosee]

“Get ready with me to breakup with my fiancé-“

“BUUUUUULLSHIT YOU ARE!”

Immediately, as soon as your first words are uttered over the recording video, Rintaro’s booms down the hallway. You laugh and smack your hand on the counter, trying to keep it as quiet as you can as you hear him continue to yell.

“THE FUCK YOU THINK THIS IS? WE’RE LOCKED IN, WHAT THE FUCK!” Socked feet barrel down the hall and you’re quick to hide the camera behind a bottle of mouthwash. His body quickly comes into the frame, chest puffed out and hands on his hips. “You got something you want to tell me?”

You pull your lips down in thought before shaking your head, “no. I don’t think so. I didn’t even know you were home.”

“Oh!” He says dramatically, clapping his hands together. “So you’re just always talking about dumping me to your little Internet friends?”

“Only in my fantasies,” you hum, tossing your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his cheek. He pouts, and you giggle and kiss him again, “but if I ever do decide to dump you, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

This, has him blinking unamused at you. Then, his hands leap up to grab your cheeks, and he pulls you in for a loud, wet kiss, his lips pressing kisses over your laughing mouth, teeth, and lips. “Listen to me.”

“Rinnie!”

“No. Shush. Listen to me.” He pulls back and rests his head against yours, hands still squishing your cheeks. “I have shit out an engagement ring for you. I have your name tattooed on me. I got clawed to death by your rat fuck cat, and I have a shirt with your face on it that I wear when I go out. We’ve shared a toothbrush, you pinch my nipple when I’m showering, you text me and ask me if I’ve pooped, and I know damn well you take ugly pictures of me when I’m sleeping.”

“Your point?”

His nostrils flare, “you so much as THINK this relationship is ending, I’m going to tattle on you.”

“Oh, please-“

“To Komori.”

This, has you paling, and you nod softly and gently grab his shoulders, “no, okay, you’re right, you’re right baby, I’m sorry.” He nods as you press a kiss to his lips, “but in all seriousness-“

“Oh, I’m serious, too.”

You snicker, “in my seriousness, I’m never going to leave you.” You flash your engagement ring to the camera and purse your lips out, and he smiles down at you. “who else is going to poop out a ring, then lie to the salesman about why we’re returning it, and get me a new one, hmm?”

“Thankfully, I’m the only one who will.” He kisses your forehead, then looks at you with sad eyes. “We’re locked in?”

“Yeah baby,” you giggle, kissing his nose. “We’re locked in.”

[cherrybr4t]

pretty boys bring you to heaven - jeon wonwoo (m)

CONTENT WARNINGS: biker bf!wonwoo, jealous wonwoo (hehe.), SMUT!, unprotected p in v, oral (f rec), praise 😇, marking up (f rec), creampie, slightly possessive wonu, overused trope but! dom!wonwoo, sub fem!reader, kitchen counter sex 😔

WC: 2k

A/N: hello..fulfilling my inner teen wattpad days with a cliche scenario & trope. but. hot jealous biker bf wonwoo. one for me pls. i hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this 😔 (slightly inspired by real life events)

enjoy! <3

"sorry miss, excuse me... my friends and i were over there and we thought you were really pretty.. any chance we could get your digits?"

you were already freezing outside the izakaya restuarant, waiting for your boyfriend to pick you up. said boyfriend was about 10 minutes late from the arranged timing.

mustering up the kindest smile you could in that condition, you waved a hand politely, "no thank you, i have a boyfriend." with a curt nod, you shifted about 5 inches to the side.

expecting the guy to take his leave, he offered a cynical chuckle on that scornful face instead.

"come on, it's just your number, hm?" he inched closer, waving his phone in your face.

scoffing, you turned to him, "i'm telling you, i have a boyfriend and he's about to be here any minute now so if i were you, i would walk away,"

"well, i don't see that boyfriend of yours anywhere baby, how 'bout you stop lying—"

"turn around," your eyebrows raised at the familiar deep timbre. you gulped, knowing that you tried to give that poor guy a small warning.

"ah," the guy turned around, took one look over before shaking his head. "didn't peg you for a pretty boy kinda girl babe, oh, and pretty boy rides," he mocked after seeing the sleek black helmet wonwoo was clutching onto.

“yeah? this pretty boy right here s’bout to turn you extra pretty with this helmet right here if you don’t step away from his girlfriend,”

you looked at your boyfriend, sharp eyes daggering through the man, knowing that he meant every word. wonwoo was a rather mellow person, but when things came down to it, you’ve seen first hand how it’s never good to rub him off in the wrong way.

with the exception of yourself, of course. you could do no wrong in your simp of a boyfriend’s eyes.

you felt your insides churn at how he stepped in with such a sinister glare. lips threatening to break into a giddy smile as you were feeling so in love with your boyfriend at the moment, as well as satisfied at how the man is now avoiding his gaze, slowly backing off.

“got it dude, chill out. s’not like i can’t find another one of these bitches out there,”

something in wonwoo snapped and he lunged forward, grabbing onto the man’s shirt with his precious helmet now dropped on the pavement.

“what did you fucking say?”

you decided it was time to step in, not wanting to cause any ruckus — you just wanted the night to be over and done with and to head home, tucked in with your boyfriend.

“alright alright, wonwoo, it’s fine let it go, he’s not worth the trouble,” you tugged onto wonwoo’s shirt, hand reaching up to massage his nape, calming him down.

wonwoo’s muscles relaxed immediately at your touch, before turning over to look at you. taking a few moments before deciding to let go —which was for the better because you knew that guy stood no chance against your hapkido black belt man.

wonwoo pushed him towards the road before grabbing onto your hand, chuckling once he saw that you’ve already picked up the helmet. you shrugged, holding onto him tighter before dragging him towards his bike.

“i’m sorry baby, this wouldn’t have happened if i got here on time.. i swear the traffic lights just weren’t in my favour today,” wonwoo cupped your face gently in his hands, pecking you gently on your lips.

“stop, this isn’t your fault wonwoo.. there’re always gonna be pesky rats out and about, plus i still remember some moves you taught me,” you got into your fight stance, flailing your arms while making exaggerated ‘hah’s.

wonwoo let out a chortle, before patting down your head, “good girl, but… i can tell you’re slightly pissed, you’re calling me wonwoo and not baby,” he wraps his arms around you, lowering his face to rub his obvious pout in your face.

“gosh you’re such a baby, baby.” you kissed his pout to which he gladly welcomed and engulfed you into an open mouth kiss, tightening his grip on you.

“that’s more like it baby, now let’s go home, need to keep my pretty baby out of these dangerous streets,”

wonwoo has you up on the counter back home, between your legs as he kisses you so fervidly while his hands grip onto your waist tightly. you rake your fingers on his nape and across his scalp as you deepen the kiss, tongue entering to find his.

his deep rumble of groans as you run your nails through his scalp has you clenching and you let out a small whimper mid-kiss. he pulls apart and stares at you.

“my pretty baby, so fucking beautiful you got all these men thinking they’ve got a shot,” he groans as he peppers small kisses along your jawline.

“til they find out that you’re mine, hm? not a fucking chance,” he follows through, kissing his way down your neck, stopping at your sweet spot he knows all too well, and starts sucking lightly.

you let out a full fledged moan at this point, head tilting back – unable to control how your boyfriend makes you deranged just by a few kisses.

“wonwoo…” you whine.

“yes baby? needa mark you up all prettily so no one else dares to even make a move hm? all mine mine mine,” he goes down on the same spot, sucking harshly with a few bites before smoothing it over with his tongue. you squeak out in pleasure, loving how his tongue feels so strong yet so good against that bruised spot.

“i'm all yours baby, l-let them all know who i belong to,” you beg, wanting to feel his mouth all over your body, not wanting him to miss any spot.

wonwoo moves on to his next spot, sucking, biting and soothing. you feel so giddy, totally missing his hand creeping towards your core, until you feel him directly palming your cunt aggressively – and you realise just how soaked you are when you feel your panties stick to your cunt.

“fuuck baby, you’re soaking through your fucking pants fuck,” wonwoo pants, inner fire growing stronger seeing how you react to him marking you up. he hastily removes your pants and kicks them aside, licking his lips subtly at the sight of your drenched cunt through your thin panties.

“wo-baby, do something, please,” you grab at nothing desperately on the counter, needing him to do something to release the tension in your core that’s been growing – you feel the need to rub against air.

“yeah? whatever my pretty baby wants,” he starts rubbing on your clothed cunt, before pushing the destroyed fabric aside, fingers soaking in your juices as he plays with your folds.

his other hand grabs onto your jaw forcing you to look at him, “open up,” he whispers before taking his fingers out of your cunt to stuff them into your mouth. you moan at the taste of yourself, eyes fluttering shut.

“so fucking delicious aren’t you,”

he spreads your legs wider before ripping your panties off. getting onto his knees, he positions his face directly in front of your cunt before going in straight and kissing your growing bud.

“fuck fuck fuck,” you scream out as you feel him start to suckle on your swollen bud, before leaving kisses over your folds. he sticks his tongue out, teasing over them before going in through layers of your folds.

“wonwoo!” moaning out your boyfriends name with a cracked voice, you thrust your hips in his face, craving more.

“as always, fucking sweet and fucking delicious, god,” he moans into your cunt, looking like a starved man as he eats and laps at your cunt so ravenously.

he grabs onto your thighs, forcing them to stay apart as he continues diving deeper into your sweet cunt, that tall nose of his hitting the right spot, rubbing against your bundle of nerves at a consistent pace.

“w-wonwoo, i’m gonna cum, gonna cum, wanna cum c-can i,” you cry out, feeling the gates of your dam about to break open any time.

wonwoo looks up you, half-lidded and lustful gaze as he urges you, "cum baby, cum all over my face fuck, need you to,"

few seconds after, you grab onto wonwoo’s hair as you feel the last string break, feeling of numbness engulfing your whole as you feel all the tension pump out of you. pulling his locks as you release your juices, moaning out his name like a mantra as you came, and you feel like you've been to heaven and back.

wonwoo doesn’t stop, and continues drinking in all of you – every last drop of your release. you pushed his head away due to oversensitivity, and wonwoo stands up chuckling.

“you make the prettiest sounds when you cum for me baby, can you do it again for me?” wonwoo coos, and kisses your forehead, slowly removing the remaining articles of clothing between the both of you.

“only if i get to cum around your cock this time,” you shot back lazily, eyes still hazy and drunk on your previous orgasm, yet still greedy for wonwoo’s cock. always greedy for more of him.

“of course baby, gotta feed this pussy more of my cock and my cum to remind who it belongs to, hm?” he turns you around before bending you over the counter. you smirk, heart palpitating at being manhandled to one of your favourite positions.

wonwoo glides his hands down your spine, caressing your cheeks, playing with them before slapping his pink and bulging tip on them.

“perfect ass, perfect tits, perfect everything, my fucking perfect baby, you were made for me and only me,” wonwoo moans out, letting his tip drench in your juices along your folds.

“mm wonwoo, baby, put it in, please,” you wiggle your hips backwards, and after a few more slaps against your cunt, he finally slides his tip in, causing you to gasp and fall forward onto the counter more.

you feel your walls constrict and expand aggressively, trying to suck your boyfriends length in inch by inch desperately.

wonwoo has a hand wrapped around your waist as he slides his full length in, both of you releasing the airiest moan once feeling each other on every nerve ending.

wonwoo starts to find a rhythm, hips thrusting so deep in you feel his tip hitting your cervix so comfortably and so fully every thrust you can’t help but scream out every time his tip nudges against that spot.

“so fucking good, cunt was made for me baby, making me see stars and shit,” wonwoo rasps out, panting as he struggles to formulate a sentence without breaking into moans.

“nngh, it feels so good wonwoo, so big, s-so good,” you were mind-fucked. having his cock in you deduced your brain to having no thoughts but him. crying out for him with no other care in this world.

“my pretty baby, wanna see you cum for me again, need to feel you cum around my cock for me, can–ah fuck–can you do that for me?” with an arm around you playing with your tits, and another arm suddenly reaching towards your exposed and swollen bud, you feel all hairs stand and being the most stimulated you’ve ever been.

“argh! wonwoo.. fuck,” you wail out his name, feeling so close to that eureka moment once again as your boyfriend rubs sloppy yet tight circles around your clit.

“mm baby, its okay, just cum for me hm? come on, cum around your cock, cum for me, cum cum,”

with him voicing his encouragements right behind you, you feel your abdomen reach its tightest point, before you feel the tipping point pour over, letting the waves of ecstasy wash over you, trembling underneath your boyfriend. squeezing the life out of his cock, you hear him groan.

“good girl, fuck, so fucking good, gonna cum for you now baby,”

soon after your release, you feel wonwoo’s body lurch and fall atop yours as his cum fills you up to the brim, and you moan at the warm liquid blanketing your cunt and its walls.

wonwoo steps back to admire his cum dripping out of your swollen cunt for a good minute, before you whine out for him - needing your after-fuck hugs and kisses.

he obliges, but whispers as he nibbles on your ear lobe, "don't think i'm done with you yet baby, you've got a loooong night ahead of you,"

a/n: hit the reblog if you've enjoyed this my loves! thank you so much for reading <3 sending love and kisses to everyone!

[leviathanleva]

Caffè Crema

[Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!FemReader]

It was all fine and dandy between you two. You fed him and he helped you move heavy furniture. Then he comes to you with a question because you'd been unknowingly avoiding his advances.

"Is it the scars?"

And you're not really sure how to answer.

[5.2k words]

[Smut, MDNI]

Chapter 2 "Tea and Sugar Cubes"

By ‘come over for lunch sometime’ apparently, Simon understood showing up at your door exactly at twelve the next day. Of course, he hadn’t brought anything with him and you knew it wasn’t because he was stingy, but because he didn’t get invited randomly to nice events such as a lunch enough to know what to bring. He’d shown up in another ratty hoodie and worn-out jeans, his infamous skull facemask obscuring the lower part of his face, his disheveled blond locks tucked under a beany.

Despite the unexpected visit, you welcomed him with a warm smile and even warmer intentions.

He looked very much out of place once he set foot in your small apartment because it was a girl space, adorned with fuzzy couch cushions and color-coded Tupperware. Everything was in its place, everything was somehow delicate. Even your toilet had smelled nice when he’d entered it to take a piss. And of course, when he’d come to the kitchen to wash his hands, your soap was pink.

Simon felt transported into a whole other dimension as soon as he’d entered your humble home, he felt bad for leaving his muddy boots in your corridor as if they’d spread a disease through your sanctuary. He’d offered to leave them outside your door, but after much insisting on your part, he’d left them as they are – a stark contrast to the pretty little sneakers you most likely slipped on in haste to go to the store.

And sure, it was a bit unnerving to have a stranger lingering in your home as you prepared lunch for both of you, but your heart wouldn’t budge when you thought of gently escorting him out. He looked so tired, the discolored crescent moons under his eyes were prominent, the lines on his features looked deeper than they had been yesterday. He looked like he needed a good meal and a good nap after, a hot shower too.

You’d glance at him every so often, picking up the décor from the coffee table in the living room and inspecting it, tilting his head ever so lightly to the side, like a confused pup, before setting it back down and picking another. You’d left the kitchen door wide open to monitor him, but the more you looked, the sadder the picture of him became. You’d throw a comment his way, asking him about how his night had been, if he’d had any breakfast before coming, if he’d like to have a coffee, only to receive one-word responses.

Unfortunately, once you were slaving over the stove you couldn’t peek at him without looking suspicious so you just let him be. Surely, he hadn’t come to rob the place. He didn’t look like the type, seemed too polite in his rough and tough way.

Soon enough your mundane questions received no answers and despite knowing you might look like an anxious rat turning around, you did so anyway.

Only to find him asleep on your sofa.

He was curled up like a fetus, one arm tucked under his head with his face smushed in one of your pretty cushions. He was too big for the couch, that much was evident, he looked almost comical for napping on your girly sofa if it wasn’t for the fact that he’d been so tired he’d fallen asleep in a stranger’s apartment. You took pity on him, of course, you did, and brought over a blanket from your bedroom to lay over him.

He didn’t even budge when you tucked him in, only murmuring a sleepy curse before his light snoring began again.

It broke your heart when his meal was finally ready and you woke him up with a gentle shake to his shoulder. The poor thing looked so disoriented that you had to bite into your cheek just to keep from giggling. He scarfed down the plate of food you’d prepared for him so fast that you worried he might choke. He didn’t though, he literally licked the plate clean, stood up, thanked you for the food, and headed for the corridor to put on his boots and leave.

Despite the weirdness, you didn’t want to seem desperate, chalking up his sudden departure as him being busy. You let him leave with a soft chirp for him to stop by any time because he looked like he needed it. You’d curled up on the couch after, your lunch forgotten, and breathed in his faint scent of cigarettes and musk as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Ghost just kept coming after that day, unannounced, like a stray who’d finally found a home. After the third or fourth time he’d showed up for you to basically feed, bathe and let him nap, you started to find him work around the apartment.

“Simon, can you move the fridge so I clean behind it?” you ask in a sugary voice, timidly standing at the entrance to the living room because you liked looking helpless in front of him. Something about male pride and all that.

He got up without a word and stalked to your kitchen before moving the fridge with ease.

“Good ‘nough?” He glanced up at you, still crouched with his hands gripping the underside of the fridge.

And maybe you were a bit of an ass for shaking your head, but you liked watching him doing everyday tasks and flexing his strength for you.

“Little more to the left, please.”

He did as he was told and much to his surprise, you were beaming.

“Thank you, Darling.” You coo and pat the rumpled tuft of hair on his crown before he stands up to his full height.

A shudder runs up his spine at your gentle gesture and soon enough he’s moving furniture and reaching the top shelves in your kitchen before you can even ask. Anything to get another dose of praise and a mellow, appreciative squeeze to his arm or pat on the head. And Simon wasn’t one to easily open up and speak of what he likes and doesn’t, and he’d be caught dead before he admitted to your soothing gestures causing his entire body to tingle, but the fact was that they did and he was addicted from day one.

He liked your cooking, loved your praise and smile, and that was enough to keep him coming. As his visits continued, he started bringing offerings – from a steaming mug of coffee from the café you’d first met at, to flowers.

“My mate said you might like these.” Were his words as he thrust the bouquet in your arms and headed towards your living room without another word.

You’d pressed those flowers in an old book lying around, memorializing them while he’d been curiously peeking over your shoulder, with one large hand resting absentmindedly on your hip.

Then there was that one night when you’d offered him a slice of cake for dessert after a filling dinner. Typical him had accepted the offer and wolfed down the treat within two bites. Meanwhile, you’d been doting silently on him from the other end of the table, snorting when he looked up at you with icing stuck to his upper lip. You’d reached over to wipe him clean only to have him lean into your touch, thinking you were trying to cup his cheek. He’d avoided your gaze like the plague when he’d realized what you were doing while you tried to keep your little heart from shattering at his touch-starved demeanor.

Touches became not only a show of praise, but a frequent display of affection after that incident. Whether you were watching a movie on your couch or you were cooking something up in the kitchen, you made sure there was always some sort of physical connection between you two and since Ghost hadn’t protested, you’d taken that as a sign to keep at it.

Soon enough, quiet dinners extended to watching movies together afterward, which would, in itself, end up with the old soldier snoozing on your lap, his nose buried in the plushness of your thighs as his large arms encircled your waist, locking you in place until he woke up. You didn’t have the guts to stir him awake considering you didn’t know if the last time he managed to get shuteye was two days ago on that very same sofa or the night before at his base. You’d just card your fingers through his hair and rake your nails over his scalp while he purred at you in his sleep.

He told you little about himself and his work, but from what you’d gathered, he came from a troubled home, dragged an awfully dark past with him, and had very few people he considered friends. Soap was one of them. You’d actually laughed when he’d first mentioned Johnny’s callsign, refusing to believe him until he’d pulled out his phone and called the bloke to confirm.

In a way, you pitied him. Whatever he’d gone through was unimaginable to you, you could see it resurface in his eyes sometimes when you left him by himself to tend to chores or to return to work on your laptop. You tried to help, anchor him back as soon as his mind started drifting, and for the most part, you succeeded. But some days were tougher than others and besides being a silent, warm, physical manifestation of comfort for him, with arms draped over his neck and cheek pressed into his crown as he had his face buried in your sternum, there was nothing more to do.

He had to ride out the nightmares alone in his mind.

Despite PTSD constantly nipping at his heels, Simon looked better. The dark bags under his eyes began to subside the more he stopped by, the defeated slope of his shoulders evolved into a relaxed slump. The best part was that he’d put on weight under your constant pestering to eat more. You could tell, especially when he was clad in nothing but an old tanktop while helping you around the apartment, there was a thin layer of fat splayed over the hard plates on his stomach. His chest had grown, the biceps on his arms weren’t just two balls of muscle stuffed under his battle-scarred skin, there was more meat there now.

And maybe it was because he’d figured out that you didn’t expect anything in return for your kindness, or maybe your cooking tasted that good on his tongue, or maybe he really liked the feeling of your soft curves pressed into him whenever you were curled up on the sofa. But he’d shown up sporting a duffle bag in one hand one day. He’d set it down by his feet while you’d eyed him curiously, returned your gaze with one of evenness and calm, as if his actions made so much sense, and then he’d walked past you to go wash his hands.

He just…didn’t leave after that.

Still, ever the gentleman of few words, he’d taken it upon himself to sleep on the couch. As generous as you were, the bed was something you weren’t willing to give up, and thankfully he’d understood that fact without you having to voice it.

You’d not heard a single complaint from him for anything – not when you’d burned the lasagna that one time, or when you’d asked him to practically rearrange your whole kitchen because you didn’t have the strength to do so by yourself. It was a blessing.

What wasn’t a blessing was how blind you were to Ghost’s attempts at seducing you. When he’d practically picked you up and laid you on his lap during movie night, you’d chalked it up to him needing physical contact because he was having a bad episode. When he’d passed you in the kitchen with the intent to get to the fridge, he’d made sure your bum got the full package of his dick glide past it. He probably hadn’t had enough space to pass, so you’d moved closer to the counter, completely missing his intention. When he’d come out fresh from the shower, covered in droplets of water that just accentuated his mouthwatering physique and with skin steaming and glinting with cleanliness, he’d stood before you in nothing but a towel around his hips. His excuse was that he needed a towel for his hair as well and despite that he was puffed up and showing off like a peacock, you’d missed it. You’d gotten up in a hurry, worrying that he’d get chilly and catch a cold if he stood as such any longer. You’d rushed to find him something for his hair, unintentionally stomping over his plan of mesmerizing you with his provocative state.

He wasn’t sure what he was doing wrong. Everything he’d tried on you had worked on other birds in the past. So why were you not falling for it? Were you just not interested? Was he mixing up the signals?

Ghost was at a loss.

So much so that he’d finally had enough of your ignorant nature and simply brought it up.

“Think I’m ugly, Bird?”

You pause halfway into scrolling on your phone, thumb hovering over the screen, frozen. Your eyes lift and roll to the left and you look at Simon with the most dumbfounded expression you could muster.

You’d just finished lunch, now both lounging in your living room as you tapped away on your phone while he silently watched a random documentary on the telly, sprawled over the sofa with you, curled up at his feet, knees to your chest and squishing a pillow under your chin.

“What?” You blurt out and shift in your spot, being mindful not to crush his toes even though he’d tucked them under your bum to keep warm. You shake your head, blink at him a few times as if he’d just thrown the most inappropriate comment your way, and repeat: “I’m sorry, what?”

Still as a rock, while propped up one elbow, he doesn’t say anything more, patiently waiting for a proper reply. You ogle him, left partly speechless by his sudden inquiry, and silently set down your phone on the coffee table before puffing out an awkward breath and crossing your fingers in your lap.

“No, of course, not. What?” You let out an uneasy snort, thumbs dancing over each other to ease the embarrassment forming in your gut. “Why would you ask me that?”

There’s a moment of nothingness that passes, with only the TV buzzing in your ear as you stare at each other. As always he’s as relaxed as can be when under your roof, slack against the cushions while you’re coiled like a violin string, waiting for him to clarify.

He picks up the remote to lower the volume, maybe buying himself time before continuing the tense conversation.

“Don’ wanna sleep with me is all.”

“I – Excuse – ” You lean closer as if you’d not heard the words that had tumbled out of his mouth so casually.

“ – Is it the scars?”

You nearly pounce at his assumption, ready to smother him in tender kisses and gentle caresses until he forgets what he was even talking about. But you don’t because you worry how he’ll react to sudden movements, you don’t want to trigger him into military mode. So instead, you slowly scoot over and reach for his hand, curling yours in his calloused palm and locking your fingers together before giving them a squeeze.

“Simon…no.” A mournful smile speckles onto your lips as you speak, a certain melancholy to your usually warm eyes. Your answer gives no room for protests or objections, as simple as it is, it carries enough weight to snuff out the demons of uncertainty that have been plaguing him. “Not gonna lie, it’s insulting you’d even think that.”

“What’s the problem then?” He asks, voice hoarse and rough, the usual combo that sends pleasant chills down your spine and butterflies fluttering through your stomach. He sits up, hand still locked with yours as he comes to loom over you.

“There isn’t any!” You all but whine in barely sustained aggravation and grip his shoulder, shaking it gently, emphasizing your words with each weak tug and push. “I just…didn’t think. I mean… I’m happy to just have you here, Simon. I didn’t think you wanted to…” The words get caught in your throat as your pulse picks up pace. You rip your eyes away from his chocolate browns and sigh something defeated.

How was this even a problem at the moment? How hadn’t you picked up on his hints?

Thinking back, you saw the signs, the not-so-subtle gestures he displayed to show his attraction for you, that he wanted more. You’d been too worked up in trying to get him to have enough rest and feed him, offer a pleasant home for him. In your mind, he’d registered more as a beaten stray dog than a human with feelings and desires.

He was literally a grown man with a dick and you’d been treating him like a child.

It was embarrassing, hard to swallow the more your memories pile up your head.

“You think a bloke’s just gonna move in with a pre’y bird like you and not wanna shag?”

He pushes you back with his mass then, eases you back into the cushions with one arm gripping onto the armrest of the sofa to steady himself, making sure he doesn’t crush you under his weight.

“I just didn’t give it much thought.” You force out a murmur, yielding to him until you’re stuffed into the sofa, fidgeting beneath his bulk with your knees protectively lifted over your chest and ankles crossed over your sex. “I didn’t want to push in case you just wanted comfort.”

Your attention turns to the TV screen and you focus on the fleeting pictures there, still refusing to face him properly as both your bashfulness and embarrassment flare inside your chest. It’s too much, there’s just not enough space for your pounding heart, hyperventilating lungs, and emotions under your ribcage, you feel like bursting any moment now. But it doesn’t happen, instead, you're trapped beneath a man you barely know who’s made your home his as well.

It all comes flooding the more you’re left to explore the logical side of your brain.

You knew barely anything about him, hadn’t seen his face fully bared once, hadn’t known him for more than a month or two. He was just a random bloke you’d bumped into at the coffee shop and now, fast forward, he was living with you. Yet your heart lurches with excitement and heat begins to gather between your trembling thighs at his actions.

“Piss off with that shite.” He grumbles bitterly before sliding one hand under your calf and pulling your legs apart only to settle comfortably between them, trapping you beneath him. “Wanted to bend ya ove’ the counter moment I saw you fussin’ ‘round in the kitchen cuz of me.”

One large palm comes to knead at the supple flesh of your breast. He hisses in delight at your lack of a bra and dips his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent with delight. Of course, you weren’t wearing a bra, you were home. He was the intruder here, or was.

Intruder no more with his toothbrush in your bathroom and his clothes in your closet. A toothy smirk tugged on his thin lips at the realization.

Should have never been nice to him in the first place. Shouldn’t have let him inside your home.

Now you were stuck with him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You mewl beneath him, words muffled into his shoulder as you tentatively wrap your legs around his waist, hands coming to rest on his back and toying with the idea of pulling off his sweater.

He picks up on your tugs all too quickly and is more than willing, pulling away from you enough to discard the article before squishing you under his bare chest. It takes him to run his clothed mouth over the column of your neck once before you’re purring against him, clutching at the vast expanse of his marred flesh, nails catching ever so gently on the swells of his scars and making him bite back grunts of approval.

“Thought I’d be a gentleman and wait till you came t’ me.” He’s rasping softly in the shell of your ear as his rough, needy paw travels down to your waist, fingers slipping under the hem of your loose top and greedily mapping out the skin beneath. The fabric bunches up under his exploration and soon enough he’s pulling it over your head and you’re too lost in the heat of him to protest. “Didn’t expect you to be this bloody daft though.”

He presses the growing tent in his sweats against your pulsing heat, earns a choked-out moan in return that ripples through his body and awakens his skin with goosebumps. You jolt in his arms at the sudden feeling, only to be stilled in place by muscular arms.

He’s scarfing down your scent like a man nearly drowned and, having pulled his mask up, lapping at your neck with fervor, crooked nose pressing into your pulse point.

“Pre’y bird…too busy takin’ care o’ me to take care o’ yerself.”

Your back arches up, breasts squishing against his chest, skin on skin, the contact making his mouth water as he continues to slowly grind against you.

And you’re so drunk on him that you’re a hair’s breadth away from tugging your shorts down and pushing his head between your thighs. But a part of you refuses to relent, the same part that keeps screaming in the back of your head that you know nothing about him except his name and occupation, which is your God damned home.

You’ve had flings before, one-night stands, but none of the men you’d been with were anything like him. He was intimidating, a giant of a man that could overpower you so easily it was laughable. He was fucking dangerous, he was lethal, and he was currently grinding against you like he’d not seen a woman before in his life.

“You alright?” Simon halts his hungry nipping on your skin and leans back enough to look you in the eye. A hand goes up to steady your trembling arm that you’d no idea was trembling in the first place. “You’re shaking…”

You offer him a wry smile, spitting a soft half-truth between chattering teeth. Technically you are cold, but it wasn’t the reason for your trembling. He was. His presence.

“Just cold…”

He snorts at your lie, but still tugs the discarded blanket on the backrest of the couch over his shoulders, cocooning you completely as he settles back above you, pressing you down into the cushions.

“Don’ worry, pre’y girl.” His nose brushes against yours as he slowly lowers himself, mouth and stubbly chin brushing over your sensitive skin. “I’ll keep you warm.”

While one arm stays glued to his back you let the other one wander, settling on his cheek, fingers dipping under his mask and making him swallow back a grunt as he shudders.

Despite your mind hollering and red light blaring in your mind, you’re the one that seals your mouths together, pressing your lips against his and flicking your tongue over the scar running down to his jaw. He snarls in your mouth, tongue darting out to fetch yours when his fingers dip beyond the hem of your shorts only to find you already dripping for him.

When he starts rubbing gentle circles into your swollen clit, you see stars in the back of your eyelids. Instinctively, you try to close your thighs around his hand, ending up only squeezing him closer by the waist. A heady moan makes you break the kiss, lips swollen and glistening with saliva, heavy-lidded eyes looking up at him in a haze of need and something Ghost refuses to acknowledge as trust. But your pouty expression and quacking thighs are enough to push him past the little patience he’d been clinging to.

He hooks his sopping fingers on the waistband of your bottoms before tugging them down your legs, a satisfied grumble vibrating deep in his chest as you wiggle along to hasten the process. Dark orbs peek from under blond lashes as he takes the sight of you, with only a thin slip covering your leaking sex. His canines slip from under his upper lip as he watches you cover your chest and mumble out that you’re cold again, face turned away from him as your cheeks heat up.

“ ‘S okay, luv.” He coos and dives back in, surging with satisfaction when you cling to him the moment he was in reach. “ ‘M here. Got you.”

He doesn’t even bother to take off your panties, just moves the soaked strip aside before shrugging his sweatpants down enough for his pulsing hardness to spring free. And you’re a curious creature, your eyes slip down to look at him ready and waiting, hovering over your pretty cunt, tip swollen and leaking already.

“I’m not safe.” I stammer out while swallowing back a copious amount of saliva at the sight of him. “You gotta – ”

“ – I’ll pull out.” He reassures you hurriedly before he’s already sheathing himself into your welcoming heat.

Ghost’s jaw clenches with forced-back moans as he sinks into your fluttering pussy. Remnants of you slick dampen the thick dark hairs at his base when he finally manages to bottom out inside you, forced to bully his cock through your tight walls until the tip kisses your cervix and makes your toes curl.

His hands found their way under your ass, cupping both firm globes of flesh and pulling you flush against him. You come face to face with his chest, the difference in size making your coupling a bit awkward in this position, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In all honestly, the ghost of a smile on his lips told you that he likes hovering over you like this while you took whatever it was he gave you.

And you want to scold yourself for taking him so willingly, for your body betraying you so quickly when he’d technically not given you anything besides a few tiny gifts that hadn’t even been his idea. But you can’t help but whine up at him instead, greedy little sounds of protest because he’s waiting for you to adjust to being split open on his cock instead of just fucking into you and giving you what you need.

You’re wrapped around him like a snake, muscles contorting and fingers clutching at the slope of his spine as he starts to gently rock his hips, balls slapping against your flesh and making you pant in anticipation of how full they were.

“Si – ”

He kisses you with a desperation that knocks the air out of you, curling in on himself and propping you up enough to silence you before his name slips past your lips. He readily swallows your moans, letting you sob on his tongue as he works you open with thrusts far too tender for your liking.

It’s a death sentence, hearing his name honeyed by your sweet voice, especially now. He wouldn’t be able to take it, would crumble in your arms and slip past your fingers like sand.

Despite his rush earlier, his restrain told you more than you wanted to know. That he’s not just fucking you dumb into your cute little sofa, that there’s more there, an intimacy you’d been too kind to bring up to him in exchange for the efforts you’d poured into him because that’s what you’d wanted from the start. The knowledge turns your legs to pudding and you find yourself struggling to keep hold of him as he rocks into you.

With a teary-eyed expression and a cry from a particularly angled thrust, you free his back from the onslaught of your nails and reach between your bodies to press down on your neglected clit, seeking relief from the tension building up painfully in your belly.

He smacks your hand away with a grunt, dips his fingers between your folds instead and glares down at you as if you’d just made a grave mistake.

It was his job to make you come. He was to have your toes curling, you shouldn’t have to do anything, and the fact that you’d tried to get yourself off while he was right there was insulting. The rough pads on his fingers circle your sensitive flesh and you’re clawing at him in pleasure, blubbering out loving incoherences that make his ears tingle.

He’s not fast enough to lock his mouth over yours and swallow the broken calls of his name when your climax washes over you. You’re too slippery beneath him, skin shining with a thin sheen of sweat as your cunt locks around him like a vice and refuses to let him pull out the whole way. Writhing as you are, he barely manages to lock you securely beneath him as he speeds up, spurred on to near madness by your breathless, throaty call, his name on your tongue turned on loop and the precious words of encouragements dusted in between.

It’s too intimate, his real name being moaned in such a way, hits too close to home, does something deep in his gut and makes his legs weak. His tempo becomes uneven, hips sputtering, slapping against yours as he drives himself in until his tip is pressing against your core. It feels surreal, everything around him does – your touches, ever gentle even when you claw at him, your heat, willing and slick just for him, your voice ringing so potently in his ears it makes his teeth chatter.

It’s all too much, your existence overwhelms him, all of his sense and soon enough he’s forgotten that he has to keep you safe, has to pull out of your addictive heat. Instead, he’s rutting against you viciously, fangs bared and eyes closed as he drowns in your pleas for more and the weak fists that are thumping against his chest.

You’re in no better state, urging him on and coiling around him with a promise that you’ll take a pill first thing in the morning. Your high-pitched howling shatters into gaspy sobs when he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of your shoulder and snarls as he jerks his hips. His spent floods your welcoming womb, his balls sucked dry by your convulsing cunt. He’d nearly fucked you off the couch with how selfishly brutal he’d gotten in the end.

Spurts of cum seeped out of you when he begrudgingly pulled out, a whine clawing its way up your throat when you feel his shaky fingers gathering up the leaking fluid before pushing it back inside you. He clambers down next to you, rolls on his side and crushes you against his chest and you know better than to protest even though you’d love to take a nice hot shower right about now.

He eyes you with something akin to tenderness before tucking you under his chin and pressing his nose into your dampened hair.

It’s fine.

You’d take a pill tomorrow.

<<< Chapter 1

Chapter 3 >>>

Masterlist

[yan-randomfandom]

yandere viktor with an innocent and naive reader but with magical abilities, where the reader knows how to use simple magic like conjuring plants or controlling water... ((the reader only knows the basics of magic, since no one taught it and this magic would be the only one so far who knows how to do it, and the reader was a little scared of being in a rush or being studied like a lab rat because she has magic, but she confided her secret to Viktor...)) Why do you do that?

Y!Viktor x GN!Mage!Reader

a/n: posting this before act 2 omg, i think i need a rewatch — btw this one only has very light yandere undertones,, ..erm

🫧 ;

"Psst. Hey, want to know a secret?"

Viktor blinked. His eyes followed the moving reflection on the iridescent river. Your figure was mirrored in the water, an unreadable expression on your face.

... He looked up, alarmed. Were you talking to him? Viktor didn't even know you.

You met his amber eyes. For whatever reason, on the edge of the cliff just above the water, you folded your legs against your chest and buried half your face in your arms.

"Well?" you pushed, voice muffled.

His mouth opened, then closed. Viktor nodded wordlessly instead.

" ... Promise me you won't tell anyone."

Without a moment's hesitation, the young boy nodded again.

He watched as you stood up and jumped steadily into the river, splashing him and his mechanical boat. A low, frustrated groan escaped him as water seeped into his clothes.

"Oh, sorry," you said as he tried to wipe the water from his face. "Let me get that for you."

Suddenly, Viktor felt his weight gradually become less unpleasant—almost refreshing, even, as if the water slid across and away from his skin and clothes.

That's when he saw it.

A small blob of water, floating in the air. It moved carefully like it was fragile.

Then came another, and another. Small specks came together until it formed one single bubble.

Abruptly, it dropped in the river. Like nothing ever happened. Viktor's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Cool, right?" you grinned. He looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, his jaw gaping. One of your hands was lifted, fingers poised in a manner of delicacy.

"You," Viktor finally spoke, stammering, his breathing ragged. "You did that? Was that... magic?"

You chuckled, settling yourself beside him. He turned to you, scooting over to make room, and met your steady gaze. “I think so. But I was serious when I said never, ever tell anyone.”

He shook his head, utterly appalled. "Is this some sort of trick?"

"I wish—"

“This is not funny,” he snarled, his demeanor shifting completely, catching you off guard. “If you’re just here to get a reaction out of me, I’d advise you and your friends to leave. Please.”

You frowned, standing up with your fists clenched. “No, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m so sorry! And I don’t… even have friends.”

Viktor searched your face.

There's nothing to suggest a lie. He's observant, and he quietly prides himself over it, but this is one of the few cases where he genuinely starts to doubt his judgment.

"But," you sighed, turning away. "I'll leave if that's what you want. Apologies."

...

"... Wait."

— 🌱

The leaves of the seedling barely moved.

"Aw," you chuckled, dropping your arm to your side. Who knew conjuring plant powers could be so draining? "Well, I tried. Let's take a break!"

He let out a choked noise, pausing his writing. "We barely started! How is it that whenever you get to try something new and amazing, you avoid it?”

...

You didn't respond immediately.

Viktor put down his notebook, looking back at you, who was blankly staring at him.

"I guess I'm... scared?" you said, tilting your head. To his surprise, you gently grabbed his hand, running your thumb across his palm.

His face warmed. He physically couldn't say or do anything.

"You're the only one who knows about this, Vik," you muttered, your eyes fixed on his rough skin. "I sprung this on you when we were kids, which is kind of hilarious, by the way, but I had a reason. In my mind, you were the only one who would understand."

He thought so, too.

Viktor couldn’t stop himself from slipping his fingers between yours. It was a good thing you weren’t looking at him—otherwise, you might’ve seen how red his face had become.

"And you told me no one will believe me," he said, and while the memory was of you giving him a serious warning, his tone was filled with nothing but endearment.

"I still stand by that," you laughed, pulling your hand away from his, much to his disappointment. You still hadn't glance at his face. He mentally scolded himself for almost hoping you would see his expression. "Especially with our age now. They'll just think you're crazy."

"I understand," he chuckled, turning away. "About that break... you want to go to our usual?"

A smile curled your lips. "Yes, please!"

— 💌

Viktor said he has a surprise for you.

Admittedly, you're feeling extremely anxious. He grew up to become a researcher, an inventor—facts that don’t surprise you.

As his best friend, a person able to do magic, while absolutely shitty at it, you know he sees you as someone with massive potential. Literally. No one else in Piltover or Zaun is known to do this. Maybe in a hundred years—who knows? You didn't even have a proper education.

...

Viktor cleared his throat. "I've been offered a position in the University of Piltover."

You froze. The letter in his fingers bore the university’s wax seal in the center, bold and unmistakable.

“Holy shit,” you blurted, your eyes darting between him and the letter. “Holy shit!”

Jumping over to Viktor, you wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace. The biggest, most triumphant smile tugged at your lips. He staggered a little, but you were too wrapped up in your happiness to notice.

"Language," he laughed, hugging you back.

You snickered. "I'm so proud of you! Words can't even begin to express how happy I am for you!"

Pulling back, your hands still rested on his shoulders. Your smile relaxed ever so slightly as your eyes gazed into his softer ones.

"I knew you could do it," you exhaled.

A small pause.

Viktor had a look. Oh, shit. What’s that smirk for?

"...You're not done," you accused, raising an eyebrow.

He lifted the letter in his hand. "I have not accepted yet."

Now, your brows knitted together in utter confusion.

"... Why not—?"

"I said I won't be going unless they let me bring a plus one."

You smile faltered, denial crossing your face. He noticed it. Did he just say what you thought you heard him say?

"Are you saying...?" Your expression shifted into worry; you didn't quite understand his point.

"I want you to come with me," Viktor said, grabbing your hand and placing the letter in your palm. "To Piltover."

Oh, no. You didn't mean to.

You panicked, pulling away, the letter slipping from your hand.

Viktor's brows furrowed. He thought you'd be happier about the news.

Then, he looked around.

It had rained just before he decided to share the news. Some raindrops were still fresh, glistening from the downpour.

And around your figure, small droplets rose into the air. The air is thick with tension.

"Viktor. You're not giving me to them, are you...?"

Defeated. That's how your voice sounded.

"Of course not," he hushed, pushing you onto a chair. "Never. Please calm down. Let me explain."

You obliged, sitting down. He sat beside you.

"I'm sorry," you spoke first, meeting his eyes. "It's not that I don't trust you. Heck, I trust you more than anyone. The thought of going up there... it just makes me anxious."

"I understand," Viktor nodded. He turned his head. "However, I promise you, I won’t let them take you away from me. You’ll be solely under my care. But I do know someone who’s willing to help us."

Viktor. So compassionate and filled with empathy. You admired him for those very reasons, not just for his brilliance. His presence feels like a whole other world to you—someone who could help you understand your abilities. Perhaps the only chance you have to truly learn who, or what you are.

"I'll be a burden."

"No. Of course not. I want you by my side."

You hesitated. Despite your family being clueless about your ability, they were still the people you cared for. You still had a life in the undercity.

"And if I refuse...?"

Viktor took a moment to respond. The thought of leaving you hurt his heart.

"You... I believe you don't have much of a choice."

You couldn't explain why, but you found it in yourself to wholeheartedly believe him.

— 💜

zamn

critique is welcome btw

[butchvampireheimerdinger]

Arcane characters react to a bump in the night

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 🌙

Characters: Sevika, Vi, Mel, Jayce, Viktor, Caitlyn, Jinx, Isha, Ekko, Heimerdinger, Ambessa, Silco.

Warnings: SFW. Some characters are written as x reader where they’re implied to be sharing a bed/in a relationship. Jinx’s bit has a mentally unwell sort of vibe that could be interpreted as suicidal ideation.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Sevika:

Before you even get the chance to be scared, Sevika stirs and mumbles a bit, groggily sits up, and fully fires away in the direction of the noise blasting that corner of the room to holy hell. Then she collapses back down and promptly resumes snoring.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Vi:

You hear a sort of scratching noise and both of you wake up, but you don’t really gaf. Vi, on the other hand, springs into action and is all “Babe, get behind me, I’ll kick its ass,” etc. She tiptoes off to investigate and you’re all like “Babe its fine it was probably the wind I’m not even scared just come back to bed” and she’s like “NO! I will protect you” and it ends up being like a single emaciated rat in the garbage.

“Wow babe I’m so glad you were here to protect me from such a terrifying apex predator, that could’ve gotten ugly quick.”

“Can it, sleeping beauty.”

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Mel:

This absolute princess is a really light sleeper, so she’s immediately up. But she doesn’t wanna wake you, so she ignores it. Then it happens again and she wakes you up gently and is all like “Darling? Would you check that out for me? The sound has just been persisting and I’m a bit nervous.” So you go and it’s nothing to worry about and she’s apologetic and you’re all “no worries love, better safe than sorry.” And she has you give her back scratches. Cause she’s a sensitive artist type and needs to chill out so she can go back to sleep.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Jayce:

Hears nothing, sleeps through it. He snores loud like a middle aged father in an armchair.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Viktor:

Viktor is probably up anyways, couldn’t sleep. He’s posted up at his desk reading by candlelight or reviewing notes/drafting something sciencey. He studies in silence so he hears it, assesses, and realizes its not a threat. Decides it’s not worth investigating unless it persists and becomes annoying.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Caitlyn:

I would say that Caitlyn sleeps through it because she’s lived a charmed life, but on second thought the Jinx shower kidnapping thing would probably give her a bit of a paranoid edge, especially regarding home invasions. In a sleepy daze, she reaches into the bedside drawer, grabs the glock, and tucks it in bed with her like a teddy bear. Also I think she goes to bed listening to NPR or some niche history podcast.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Jinx:

Her eyes open wide immediately, and the knee-jerk fear response gets her heart pumping. As we know, her stress reactions are a little inconsistent and she seeks out conflict, doesn’t like to let things rest. I think it would somehow excite her and she would sit up in bed, pick at her cuticles or play with a nearby weapon/gadget as she waits for either death or a brawl. Or she might seek out the source for violence purposes depending on what she’s feeling in the moment. Diva is combative. Actually, I take it back I think she would always go out and investigate every little bump in the night — one of the many reasons her sleep cycle is so inconsistent. She’d tear through all her belongings searching for it. There’d be audible crashes and she’d make a huge mess of her room. It’d drive her up the wall if she couldn’t find it. Until something distracted her enough to get her to return to bed.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Isha:

Isha wakes up and immediately thinks monster under the bed? She dangles a shoelace or a sock over the edge of the bed to see if the monster bites, cause she’s a smart kid. Nothing does and she tiptoes over to Jinx’s area (cautious and stepping lightly because you can never be too careful with these under-the-bed-monsters) and wakes her up by tugging gently on her braid. She points furiously to the closet and Jinx makes a big show of investigating every nook and cranny. She’s saying something like “Hereee furry monster. Pssst pssst… Come out come out wherever you are, ugly.” She sets up “monster booby traps” with bits and bobs and trinkets. “No scaly ne’erdowell is getting past the Fang Destroyer 5000, I can tell you that much.”

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Ekko:

Ekko sleeps like the dead. And he wears headphones to bed and listens to metal and noisecore. He didn’t hear a damn thing. There could be a majorette kickline complete with a marching band drum sequence making its way through the tree and trust he would remain slumbered up. Snoozepilled to the max.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Heimerdinger:

He’s def got a white noise machine or he listens to whale sounds to get to bed. Yordles have excellent hearing though so he probably woke up immediately. Idk how this fits with actual lore but I feel like yordles would have prey instincts. Something tells me Heimerdinger burrows deeper in his blanket like he’s having a predator fight or flight response. And he’s like. Trembling involuntarily. However, he is a man of science, so he talks himself through it. “’Tis but a shifting floorboard! Perhaps some rowdy vermin. Nothing to obsess over — the likely scenario is that I am safe in my home, and should go back to sleep. I must get my rest so I can approach the morning with a healthy body and a fresh mind!”

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Ambessa:

Ambessa hears it cause she’s got ears like a hawk (do hawks have ears…?) but she goes back to bed because she’s got people to handle that. And if someone surprise attacks her she can definitely take them in her sleep.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Silco:

“Sevika, investigate that for me.”

[littledozerdraws]

fic to accompany the art by the amazing @drawsaurus

He had already killed for the Emperors; but this was no debut at some preening Senator’s bawdy-house. When it was already past dusk, Hanno was led out in chains from the Colosseum stables, through a dank alleyway buried in the backstreets of the slums; down, down, into the labyrinthine bowels of the city, endless stone tunnels rank and musty with disuse. The skeleton of a rat crunched under his heel like an autumn leaf. He half assumed that he trudged to his death, and found it did not much bother him. 

But when, at last, the floor underfoot sloped upwards and turned to stairs, Hanno found that he had emerged not into a slaughterhouse, but into the soft, warm candlelight and velvet drapery of the imperial palace. Viggo handed him off to an elegant but harried house slave, no word, but a sneer of knowing disdain. 

Hanno gave him nothing back. He knew that he would kill that man one day. He could be patient.

The slave had the high, soft voice and smooth hands of a eunuch. “I should have liked a day to school you in the proper etiquette,” he said, unhappy, as they moved quickly through more corridors, more twists and turns. Hanno felt like he had no sense at all of where he was in the City; he could have been miles outside it were it not for the two-headed crest of the Emperors that adorned the walls. “But there is little time. I shall tell you the basics. You must look neither Caesar in the eye, nor address them unbidden. Your little trick at Senator Thraex’s has the court all a-gossip, but you must keep your station henceforth. I know you understand Latin,” he said curtly, when Hanno made no response. “You will do as you are commanded, no more or less.”

Still Hanno said nothing. 

Perhaps the eunuch wanted to shock some kind of reaction out of him. “Emperor Geta will direct the proceedings,” he said, cold. “Emperor Caracalla likes to be fucked as a woman. You will be expected to perform.”

“...Macrinus sends me here to fight.”

The eunuch looked him over. “I see they did not bathe you at the stables,” he sniffed. “Your musk is not unpleasant, at least.”

“You have me mistaken.”

They stopped abruptly, before a fresco that Hanno could not make out in the low light. He could tell, at least, it was ostentatious. A door was cut through the wall that gave gently when pushed. The house slave gave him a shallow bow, almost a mockery, and indicated that he should enter. “Do not misunderstand,” he said, quieter even than before. His superiority dropped away from a moment; this felt like a freely given warning. “This may seem a private audience, but the Praetorian Guard have many ears and quick swords. Perform your duty well, and you will leave here a man entire. Do not make poor decisions, Poet.”

The Emperors had called him that.

Before the night was out, they would name him so again, and again, and again.

[siempre-bucky]

hallucinations

Qimir x Reader

summary: Qimir takes quick action when you get sick on Khofar when you start seeing things

wc: 1.6k

a/n: for the anon that wanted some whump... I hope you like it <3 I'm working on requests rn and they're still open for Qimir!

You wanted to like this planet. Khofar was a planet you had dreamed of visiting since Qimir gave you a map of the outer rim. The dense forest made you feel so at home, one with the galaxy—or at least you wanted it to feel this way. Your head pounded with every step you took as you trekked behind Mae and Qimir, your lungs struggling to fill with air. You weren’t sure when you began to feel so dragged down and exhausted, you didn’t feel this way often. 

Qimir pulled his pack higher onto his shoulder and looked behind to catch a glimpse of you. His eyebrows knitted together in worry, “You alright?” he asked, tripping over a rock but catching himself gracefully. You looked up with tired dry eyes, they burned as you tried to keep your gaze on him. With a nod, you drew in a breath and powered through to close the distance between you and your friend. 

“Fine,” you answered, masking the illness that took over your body. You wanted to crawl back to the ship and bundle up in the small sleeping quarters that barely slept the three of you. This mission wasn’t about you, Mae was eager to please the master and kill the Wookie. Right now you hated the eagerness that was powering her, it made her walk faster. 

“You don’t look fine,” Qimir sighed, “we can stop.” He slowed his movements as you entered deeper into the forest, his eyes looking at your feet to make sure you didn’t trip over a rock or exposed tree root on the small ledge you had to climb down. 

You raised your hand and put it on his shoulder to reassure him, tempted to lean against him for support as you maneuvered around to get to solid ground. “I’m good. We need to help her find Kelnacca.” He noticed the weakness in your tone, followed by the slight hoarseness that had him wondering when the last time you had water was. “It’s just in front of us.” 

The man looked forward, squinting to see what you were talking about. He knew the exact location and you were nowhere close to the cabin where the Wookie resided. He quickly realized that you were so sick you started to see things. “Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed as it dawned on him. He grabbed ahold of your arm gently to get your attention. You turned to look at him and he was able to take in the sweat on your forehead and the lifelessness in your eyes. “I need you to sit.” 

“I’m fine, Qimir. I feel ok.” 

Famous last words. A wave of lightheadedness crashed into you, and it made you stumble right into his chest. A chill followed, and suddenly you were transported to Hoth; freezing with no solution. Qimir was warm, the thickness of his coat warmed your cheek for a brief moment before he peeled you off of him. Everything was muffled as he sat you down on a rock, you vaguely heard him call out for Mae. The world spun as you watched him give her an empty canteen and urged her to go get water from the creek nearby. You swore you saw womp rats following her closely as she hastily disappeared into the forest.  

You suddenly felt the warmth of his hand hit your cheek, and you leaned into it, your eyes meeting his. His hand felt like a pillow, holding you steady as you struggled to stay conscious. His face finally came into focus. Qimir was just as beautiful as the day you met him, when he was still a gun runner for the Hutts, and you were freshly recruited by the Master for your set of skills.  “I think I’m sick, Qi,” you chuckled, giving in. 

“I know,” he sighed, using the side of his sleeve to gently brush the beads of sweat from your forehead. 

He looked around the forest anxiously, no sight of Mae and he had lost track of when he sent her. He grumbled something about her always taking her time and cursed her lack of urgency under his breath. Qimir felt you slump over and it instantly worried him. He’d never seen you so sick before. You managed to fight off colds with his remedies and hide your sniffles when you needed to. It hurt him to see you like this. 

The world went dark after that, and the next thing you knew, you were waking up to the smell of a familiar remedy. There was something about the spiciness that tickled your nostrils that instantly made you feel better. Qimir made it often when either of you got sick, storing containers of it just in case he couldn’t make it right then and there. He made it the first time for you just months after you met, getting caught in a rainstorm and the doors to the place you were staying wouldn’t budge. You were stubborn and demanded to stay with him after he shouted at you to find shelter while he tinkered with the bolts and screws. You were stuck in bed with a terrible cold for a week and Qimir never failed to bring you the special soup. 

You could hear the metal spoon drag along the bottom of the pot, the warmth of a fire soothing the chill you were still stricken with. A blanket had been draped over your torso, you snuggled in deeper to let it come up over your mouth, touching your nose. It smelled of him, earthy and a scent so uniquely Qimir. With a soft groan, you turned your head to the side to take in the room. It would have made a nice shelter if the Master wanted, it was large enough to hold a few people yet it had a charm to it. You felt as if you could live here for a while, fill up that nearly empty bookshelf in the corner, and bring those rusted-over monitors near the dirty window to life again. Maybe just not now though, your body felt as if an entire ship had been dropped on top of you. You didn't want to move, you couldn’t move. 

Qimir saw you wiggle beneath the blanket out of the corner of his eye. He quickly poured the soup into a bowl and carefully walked it over to you, kneeling beside the makeshift bed. “How are you feeling?” He placed the bowl on the table beside him and placed the back of his hand on your forehead. You were still burning up he noted, he took his hand and crooked his long pointer finger, letting it drag along the side of your face. Your head followed his touch so that your face was looking at the ceiling. It was almost sensual the way he touched you, slow and delicate, taking you in even in this state. He was thankful your eyes were closed or you might have seen the red flush on his cheeks.

“Like I got body slammed by a Wookie,” you answered weakly. “Was there a Wookie?” 

He chuckled a bit and shook his head, hair falling into his face, “No,” he said gently, removing his hand and sitting back on his heels, “You’ve been seeing things all day.” 

“Shit,” you cursed with a small laugh. Your eyes finally opened again and you turned your head carefully so it wouldn’t throb. Maybe he was right and you were seeing things because Qimir had changed? The green and brown baggy clothes you were accustomed to were different. He wore jet black sleeveless robes, well structured and they formed to his well-toned body. Had he always been that toned? You let your hand emerge from the warmth of the blanket and pressed your hand against his chest. His gaze was locked on your hand, watching intently as your fingers danced along the folds of his lapels, feeling the surprisingly soft fabric. 

“I-I have to go,” he told you, voice wavering as you touched the bare center of his chest. 

Your fingers were cold but his skin felt as if it was on fire. Qimir’s watchful eyes flickered over to you and your eyes began to droop closed. He took your hand and placed it gently on your chest, but he didn't let go. Carefully leaning in, he pressed his lips to your forehead.

“Stay—” you don’t know what possessed you to say it. You wrapped your hand around his collar again, this time it felt soft like his beloved brown jacket. Another hallucination, but you liked that one. Sure, Qimir had always been handsome, but him in those back robes did you in. Your heart was racing and it wasn’t from the illness. 

 “Eat that when you wake up please,” he whispered against your warm skin. “I won’t be long.” 

You mumbled incoherently and let consciousness slip away as soon as his lips left you. Though it didn’t last long, you woke up once again not knowing how long you slept for. Your eyes slowly opened, and a blurry figure was standing in the doorway. He outstretched his hand, his forearm wrapped in a metal gauntlet that glowed in the moonlight. A large black object flew to his hand. 

You blinked once to sharpen your vision. 

Twice to make sure you weren’t hallucinating again. 

The figure had his back turned to you, that object in his hand was a helmet. You watched as he slipped it over his head, his dark hair covered by the metal and he started to levitate inches off the floor. Those robes looked familiar. Qimir, you thought. But then you giggled to yourself—it couldn't be. 

You were just—hallucinating again. It had to be.

[the-unidentified-author]

Use Your Words | Cregan Stark | House of the Dragon

Cregan Stark x Female Wife Reader

Warnings/ Tags: SMUT[NSFW}, smut, minors DNI, established relationship, Cunnilingus, fingering, consensual!, hes a big man, one orgasm after another, Cregan on his knees, a little bit of roughness, mention of Alcohol, frustrated reader, Biting? ...

Summary: You're the wife of Cregan Stark and he helps ease a little frustration you're feeling.

A/N: Thank you to that RAT BASTARD (in a loving caring way) on here who wrote about Cregan tying up his hair before he eats out his wife, I have been able to think of literally nothing else. This Fic is entirely inspired by your lil post. Now I can’t remember your user name but I demand you reveal yourself (jk only if you want to girly pop)!

Word Count: 3,336

You let out a deep sigh and threw your quill down, sinking back into the worn leather of your chair, feeling every creak it made under your movements. Your eyes, tired and strained, you rubbed them gently, trying to massage away the pain caused by the long hours spent squinting at parchment. The candle next to you flickered with a final dance, its wax dribbling into a small puddle, threatening to extinguish itself as the shadows began to creep in. You were far from done with the daunting task of addressing invitations to the seemingly endless names on Cregan's list. The night had already drawn in, and you wanted nothing more than to sleep, but there was still so much to do.

The room was dim, the fire in the hearth now a mere glow, its embers laboriously clinging to life, whispered memories of flames, silently begging for another log to reignite their fervour. The faint, jubilant cheers of men resonated through the stone corridors from Cregan's bustling feast; it was a symphony of boisterous laughter and clinking tankards, hints of celebration murmured among the echoes. They had finally conquered the hunt, returning triumphantly with deer, the spoils of their tireless adventures in the wilderness.

Cregan, always the visionary, had decreed a grand feast to herald the upcoming weekend, with promises—rumbling like the laughter from below—that it would be the day he returned home with the great winter stag, that had eluded him on the last three hunts. The very thought made you clench your teeth, a mix of envy and longing to be part of such adventures, yet tethered to this desk with duties that seemed to multiply by the minute. Still, you leaned forward, picking up the quill once more, determined to drown out the sounds of the celebrations and finish your task before you retired to bed.

The sound of footsteps echoed up the corridor towards you, their pace loud and hurried, a sharp contrast to the slow crackle of the dying fire. Heavy boots against stone, each step seemed to vibrate through the walls, accompanying the ghostly flicker of firelight. You placed your hands flat on the desk, feeling the rough grain beneath your fingers, and stood up with a sense of anticipation. You steeled yourself, ready to unleash your pent-up frustrations on whatever unfortunate soul dared interrupt you.

With a loud crash, the door swung open in one swift motion, slamming against the stone wall with a resounding thud that echoed through the chamber. It threatened to rebound and strike the intruder, but a strong-arm shot out, stopping its swing by placing his hand flat against the ancient wood. A large hand, calloused from years of swinging weapons and weathering the elements, steadied the ancient wood against the wall.

The figure that filled the doorway was unmistakably your husband, Cregan Stark. His presence seemed to command the room, as if even the shadows bowed to his entrance. The dying light of the fire danced across his broad shoulders and rugged features, highlighting the strength and vigour that made him a leader among men—a hunter triumphant. His eyes, bright with the thrill of victory, found yours, sparking a familiar blend of emotions that simmered beneath your practiced composure.

"Wife!" he bellowed, a great smile spreading across his face as he laid eyes on you. "I have found you at last." He seemed a little drunk, something else that irritated you. Here you were slaving away, and he was doing nothing but partying and celebrating.

His presence was like a gust of wind forcing its way into your sanctuary, stirring the air with energy and purpose. Despite the warmth that spread through you at seeing him—a warmth that radiated from the heart, unwelcome at this time, yet familiar. You fought to keep a semblance of calm on your face, reminding yourself that he was the reason you had such a mountainous number of tasks to do.

"Cregan," you replied, rolling your eyes and slumping back down into the chair.

He strolled into the room with an effortless ease, a man at home in his surroundings, but noticeably absent from his usual assortment of garments. His cloak and sword, which typically adorned his broad back, were nowhere to be seen. Instead, he wore only his boots, trousers, and a casual shirt. The strings that normally fastened the top were loose, offering a tantalising glimpse of his strong chest beneath. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing muscular forearms crisscrossed with veins, you tried to stop yourself from staring.

In one hand, he carried a tankard of ale, droplets of condensation working their way down its sides. As he surveyed the room, his eyes landed on the dwindling fire. With natural grace, he stooped to pick up a piece of wood, and with a practiced flick of his wrist, he tossed the large log with ease onto the embers. The fire responded with a sizzle and a new burst of warmth, casting flickering shadows that played across his stupidly beautiful features. He turned to you, his face still twisted into a smile. Then he moved towards you, stepping around the desk and leaning backwards against it.

"How are you, wife?" He asked, taking a swig from his drink. "Why are you not enjoying the festivities below?"

You scowled at him, "Well, someone has to plan your feast." you argued, anger boiling up at of you. Not so much at him, but more so at the amount of work he seemingly didn’t realise he had given you.

"Ah that can wait, you should come with me." he reasoned, his hand moving to your shoulder and trailing, carefully down your arm until he held your hand in his.

"No it can’t, if you want the Lords to arrive on time, then I need to send the letters by tomorrow at the latest.” you snapped, pulling your hand from his.

His eyebrows creased into a frown as he looked down at you.

"Come on now, I will help you with them in the morning," he reasoned, placing his tankard on the desk next to him and standing.

You moved to resist his advances, turning your head as he leaned in to kiss you. You tried to create some distance between the two of you by standing and moving away from him, but a firm hand reached out, pulling you back towards him with an unyielding grip. Your back was pressed against his strong chest, the heat of his body permeating through the layers of fabric that separated your skin from his.

As Cregan's arms circled you, enveloping you in a warm embrace, you couldn't help but feel his strength and the weight of his muscular frame. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble scratching softly against your sensitive skin. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and you tried to resist the way it made you feel, a mix of unwanted arousal and lingering resentment.

You wouldn't admit it, even to yourself, but feeling him against you did water down the rage you were feeling towards him. Yet, you were adamant that he wouldn't get off with stressing you out so completely so easily. Even as his arms tightened around you, his grip firm and unrelenting, you could feel the tension in his body, the subtle shifts in his stance that betrayed his need. He wanted you, there was no denying that, and you were adamant he would have to work for it.

"You're not going to get out of this, that easily," you spat out, the anger bubbling up within you, threatening to spill over like a pot boiling over on the fire. "You dumped this grand idea of a feast on me out of nowhere and then ran out the door on a hunt with your friends, leaving me to flesh out all the details and make this into something that people will actually enjoy."

The stress of the day and the long hours you had put into planning all rushed out, a torrent of words that were fuelled by frustration and resentment. You could feel the tension in your body, your hands clenched into fists at your sides.

The room seemed to grow smaller around you, the air thick with the weight of your unspoken grievances. Your eyes flashed with a mixture of hurt and defiance, challenging him to deny leaving you to do everything while he enjoyed himself.

Despite your anger, there was a part of you that couldn't help but feel a lingering sense of longing for him, for the closeness and intimacy that his presence always seemed to bring into your life. But at the same time, you were determined not to let him off the hook so easily.

"I'm sorry." he said, his big storm grey eyes seeming sincere with a hint of something else in them.

He stepped closer and this time you didn’t stop him, as he gently cupped your face in his hands. His lips met yours in a tender kiss, soft and reassuring, like a whisper of promises yet to be fulfilled. You let out a small sigh, the sound a mixture of surrender and relief, as if the weight of your burdens was momentarily lifted. He pulled away, and the moment seemed to linger, as he looked down at you.

"I accept your apology." you whispered, all the hostility you had been feeling moments ago ebbing away.

"Oh wife," he smiled, a devilish glint finding its way into his eyes. "I haven't finished apologising yet."

You frowned, a mixture of surprise and perhaps a hint of anticipation, as he stepped closer. His hands felt like warm, steadying anchors on your waist, grounding you.

And in one swift movement, he picked you up, effortlessly lifting you as if you weighed nothing whatsoever. Your heart skipped a beat as he settled you down onto the desk, the cool, smooth surface a stark contrast to the heat that was rapidly building between you.

He began to kiss at your jaw, his lips hungry and insistent as they moved down your neck. Each touch of his lips was like a bolt of lightning, sending jolts of electricity coursing through your veins.

His hands, too, were alive with a feverish intensity as they tugged at your clothing. But then, just as suddenly as it had begun, he stepped back, leaving you feeling slightly breathless and more than a little disoriented.

He smiled at you then pulled the leather tie from his wrists and brushed his hair back out of his face, pulling his shoulder-length hair back, tying it up out of his face. As he brushed his hair back out of his face, you couldn't help but marvel at the sight of him. His shoulder-length hair, now tied up and out of his face, emphasised the rugged, masculine beauty of his features. It was a stark contrast to the more polished, refined elegance of the world outside this intimate cocoon.

And yet, even as he stood there, his hair pulled back and away from his face, there was a sense of wildness that still seemed to cling to him. It was as if, even in this moment of tender intimacy, he refused to be tamed or domesticated, choosing instead to remain forever untamed and free. Cregan Stark, The Wolf of The North.

You looked at him, your eyes reflecting the confusion that you were feeling in that moment. It was a look that seemed to intrigue and amuse him, a spark of mischief shining in his eyes as he took in your expression.

His lips met yours once more, this time in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, the sensation one of pure, unadulterated pleasure. As he pulled away, you couldn't help but feel the intensity that was fast becoming unbearable between the two of you.

His hands, which had been momentarily still, now returned to your dress. With fast movements, he pulled it up over your knees, revealing the smooth, expanse of your thighs beneath. He then bundled the fabric up at your waist, and then kissed you again, one hand keeping your dress up and the other moving to your hair to guide your head as he kissed you.

But then, even as you revealed in the sensation, you felt his hand dip beneath your shirt, his fingers tracing along your inner thigh. The sensation was like a bolt of lightning, sending jolts of electricity coursing through your veins.

He was teasing you, you realised, playing a game of tantalising anticipation. Each touch of his fingers was like a promise, a hint of the pleasures that were yet to come. Then he pulled away from you, and his hand moved to your chest, to guide you back. You leant backwards, steadying yourself against the desk with your arms. Then slowly he dropped to his knees, pushing your skirts out of the way. You felt a soft kiss on the inside of your knee, and then another a little further along. Then his teeth nipped slightly at the supple skin of your inner thigh, and you moved your legs to press them together at the sensation, but his strong arms kept your legs firmly apart as he kissed closer and closer.

"Cregan, please, enough of this." you whispered, still trying to cling to the anger that had almost dissipated entirely.

"Please what?" he asked as the kisses moved closer to your pussy, his hot breath also seeming intent on teasing you.

"Stop." you whispered, still trying to argue with him. The word sounded pathetic and as if to emphasise just how pathetic your plea sounded, he licked your cunt. One sweeping movement from the entrance of your pussy right to the clit, drawing a moan from your lips.

Then he pulled away, you looked down at him, angry again, but this time that he had actually stopped.

"Cregan," you whined again, tilting your head back, not happy with how much teasing you seemed to please him. And irritated that he had actually stopped.

"Come on now wife, use your words." he whispered, placing a kiss on your inner knee but not moving to continue.

"Cregan just fucking eat me." you pleased, the words coming out quickly, tinged with anger.

He grinned, he seemed to take great pleasure in the knowledge that he had won you over, that despite your initial resistance, he had managed to break through your anger in the best way he knew how.

And then, as if to seal the deal, he delved back under your skirts.

One quick lick, and then he flattened his tongue as it started to move in a way that made it obvious he was apologetic. Each movement of his tongue seemed only to have one goal, and that was to bring you to release as fast as he could. Cregan was not the sort of man that lost. You clenched your teeth and tried to hold out, trying not to let him have this win so easily. But he was your husband, and he knew your body better than he knew his own. You balled your fists on the table trying to pull yourself back from the edge, but he sent you falling over it. You came hard, screaming his name as you tilted your head back.

He didn’t give you a moment to recollect yourself, instead he moved his tongue over your clip, as one of his fingers gently pressed inside you, curling up towards your bellybutton.

"Cregan" you gasped, rolling your hips to the motion of his finger, your hands returning to the desk the paper at your side bunching up into your fist as you tried to get purchase on something to ground you.

He didn’t respond, at least not with words. Instead, he removed his finger and replaced it with two that sent such a wave of pleasure coursing through you that for a moment, you could swear that you could see stars on the back of your eyelids. His fingers stroked up against something inside you made it feel as though every nerve ending in your body had been set on fire. Those two fingers in conjunction with his tongue fanning the flames, pushing you to the edge of another release again. You gripped the edge of the desk, your hips bucking involuntarily as you surrendered to the intense pleasure coursing through you. Even as your climax hit, the intensity of his mouth and fingers never wavered, continuing to guide you through this earth-shattering experience.

"Fuck," was the only word you could push through your lips as he still didn’t relent as he ate your pussy.

In fact, the word seemed to spur him on, as though hearing you spout profanities amused him. Perhaps it was the fact you were usually so reserved and well-spoken, that when he broke down those walls and exposed your inner animal, it turned him on more than anything else.

You were racing towards another peak again, and this time he seemed determined to push you there as fast as he could, as though he himself were becoming impatient. You knew that he got impossibly turned on when he went down on you, unable to go more than a few rounds before he had to feel himself inside you. This was the longest he had managed, and you wondered if he was torturing himself as much as he was attempting to torture you. You squeezed your eyes shut and screamed his name as he brought you to the edge for what felt like the hundredth time. You attempted to squeeze your shaking legs shut, Finally, he emerged from between your thighs, the scent of your arousal clinging to him like a trophy. He placed both his hands on the desk, leaning towards you. Immediately, you leaned forward, your hands moving instinctively to his broad, muscular chest. He kissed you deeply, his lips warm and inviting against yours. Then, he tucked his head into the crook of your neck, allowing you to hold him for a moment, your heart still racing from the intensity of your shared experience. As you both came down from your high, you took comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the sound of your breathing slowly returning to normal.

Once your breathing steadied, and you felt ready to speak, you gently pulled away from him. It was then that the sharp scent of ale suddenly assaulted your nostrils, causing you to wrinkle your nose slightly in surprise.

"Gods, Cregan, I'm sorry I knocked over your drink." you said, righting the tankard, now empty.

He shrugged. "There are better things to drink back in our room," he whispered, his voice low and intimate, sending shivers down your spine.

He moved his hands to your waist, pulling you closer to him, his body a beacon of warmth and comfort. His scent, a mix of woodsmoke, leather, and the crisp scent of the outdoors, enveloped you, a familiar embrace that you couldn't resist.

"How about we return there and have a drink," he suggested with a smile, "before we continue our evening entertainment." His eyes twinkled with mischief, hinting at the pleasures that awaited you both. He leaned down, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"Continue?" you asked, looking up at him with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. The firelight danced across his features, lending an almost ethereal glow to his already handsome face. "I think you have more than apologised Cregan," you responded, a hint of amusement in your voice.

"Yes, I have apologised," he murmured, his voice rich and deep, "but now I need to thank you for working so tirelessly." He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, a gesture that sent a new wave of desire coursing through your veins.

A Link to My Complete Inventory

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine Michael Kaiser who came home with the house looking rather cold and empty.

Imagine Kaiser who just came home after a long season, snow dust all over his shoulder as he relaxed as soon as he steps home only to find the lights turned off, making the evening dark like it already is. In an instant, he turned stiff as his cold palms started to sweat.

Imagine the way he just stood there, bag hanging heavily on his shoulder as he stood there unmoving. Then his eyes lay upon the snow slowly falling outside. He could feel his heart picking up its phase. The way his vision starts to reflect on the window pane and instead of finding his reflect in the mirror, his old, younger, dirty little rat self was the one he saw.

Imagine the way he starts to recall none of his painful childhood but rather the less and less time he get to spend with you. Ever since the season started he was gone most of the time and just recently, he played overseas before coming back and playing within the league once again. He did not fail to notice how you seemed to be hiding something from him nowadays. The way you woukd excuse yourself in the calls earlier than usual.

Imagine the way he starts to panic upon the suddenly realisation that you may have left. Left because he was too busy on everything but you. That you grew tired of him. Well he knew how nasty he could be, how rude and annoyingly aggressive he could be. But you would not leave him right? He could change, he will change, he could be better- woof!

Imagine the way he pause once again. The breath that he did not even notice he was holding finally escape. Did he just hallucinate a dog? "No buddy, be quiet. Der vati would be here in a few moments okay? Hold it in till then." Okay maybe he was not hallucinating. Or maybe he was, maybe you left and he was just fooling himself you didn't. Woof!

Imagine the way he hesitated, the way his hands slowly reach out to touch the switch lights and finally give light into the house. He did not missed the way he heard a gasp coming from the kitchen but even still, that did not make him feel any better, more than ever, it made him nervous. What if his fears come true? What if you are not in there? What if you truly left? What was he supposed to do then?

Imagine upon entering the kitchen area, the first thing he noticed was the presence of people in there and upon looking at the kitchen island. His blue eyes met with a pair of (eye color) ones. There you were, a piece of crisy bread crust rusk in hand as you take a bite only to choke upon making an eye contact with him. With no time to waste, Kaiser hurry up to help up, and as soon as your throat clear up, you burst into laughter.

"Heilige scheiße baby, when I was hoping to surprise you, this was not part of the plan." Kaiser hates surprises. "Nevertheless, happy birthday baby. Take you being born, you're the best gift I could ever have" Michael Kaiser hates surprises, it makes him vulnerable, the way he doesn't know how to react. "I tried my best but this is the best recipe I could make with your favourite food, crispy bread crust rusk." Kaiser hates surprises, makes him look back in the days were he often thought of one only to be hurt and disappointed. "Also." You whistle, then a hurry small steps echoed in the kitchen. "Here." You picked up a familiar dog. The dog the two of you often saw whenever you went out a walk. "I know I could have adopted a new puppy in the shelter but on my way into the shelter I come across him and was like, why no take this one in- baby, are you okay?"

Imagine the way you took a step forward towards him, setting down the dog as he watches you reach out a hand to touch him. Only when you wiped away his tears did he knew he has tears rolling down his cheeks. "Baby- scheiße- sorry, I suck at surprise. I knew it was a bad idea. I'm sorry-" You were cut off when he grab a hold of your hand and gently caresses it.

Imagine, Michael Kaiser hates surprises. It make him feel like a fool know he does not know what to react. At the same time, he realised he was no longer the child who have nothing, have nothing but a stolen ball. "Meine liebe." He do not know the face he was making but he felt bad for making you cry too. Gently, he let go of your hand and gold you on your cheeks before leaning down to have your forehead pressed upon each other. "Danke, Ich liebe dich." Woof! Maybe surprises wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°

[emmyrosee]

head empty, only rin loving kisses and being waaaaaaay to proud (shy) to ask for them.

he would love nothing more than to be able to work up the courage to ask you to kiss him, he’s touch starved and needs constant attention, but he’d rather eat rat poison than ever confess it to you. you have the effect on him, you’ve torn down his walls and shown him all the praise and affection he is worth giving, and you’ve turned him into a sucker for kisses.

which is wonderful, since you’re so keen on giving them to him.

terrible when all he wants is a kiss and you don’t notice it.

he’s pacing back and forth in the next room, desperate, craving, needing a kiss or two on his forehead and one on his lips, in a line like you usually do. routine, is how he’d describe it, but deep down, he’ll take anything he can get. his big hands are carding through his hair, and god, he’s thrilled no one is able to see him like this.

“what’re you doing, baby?”

fuck.

except you.

he nearly leaps out of his skin as you make your way to him, and when he whips his head to face you, your brows a furrowed in concern and your arms are crossed over your chest. “you vanished,” you explain. “missed my snuggle buddy.”

“eugh,” he grumbles. “we’ve talked about the nicknames, haven’t we?” he scolds, and you merely chuckle.

“we have, i just choose to not listen to you.”

“and that’s exactly why you’re a pain in the neck.”

then, you shrug, “so im a pain, meanwhile you’re stuck in here waiting for me to come give you a kiss because you can’t ask for it?”

fuck.

he scoffs, but it’s shaky and unconvincing, “yeah right. as if id ever need something as juvenile as a kiss to lure me back. i just needed to stretch is all.”

“yeah, i’ll bet,” you snicker. then you spin on your heel, and rin feels his heart sink, “well, ill be on the couch. waiting for you.”

no, no, no, his chance is walking away from him, literally, disappearing down the hall and leaving him a yearning mess, pining for your affection that he’s just not sure how to ask for.

his head drops in disappointment, fists balling slightly, and he pouts softly like a child as he wracks his mind to try and work up the courage to go. he’s pathetic, can’t even ask for affection from his own partner, someone he sleeps next to at night and lets smear a green, cold face mask on him, someone he’s so in love with they turn him into a damn petulant child at the lack of attention, and-

“hey,” you whisper. he looks at you through his lashes, embarrassed.

you smile and toss your arms around his neck, rising up slightly to press a kiss to the apple of his cheek. his eyes blow open. then, you kiss his nose gently. his lips twitch. you plant your lips on the ticklish spot on his neck, and he jerks slightly. you giggle.

“oh, you’re so cute i can’t stand it,” you purr, kissing the other side of his cheek. “i just love loving you.” you press a kiss to his chin, and by now he’s smiling shyly, cheeks blazed in red from embarrassment and excitement for the attention he’s finally receiving. “i could just eat you up, you’re so cute.” you kiss the corner of his eye, which flutters shut in ease. “i can’t not kiss you, it’s against the law.”

finally, stiffly, his arms wrap around your waist, “who would you be to break the law?”

“i would never,” you hum, moving your hands to gently cup his cheeks, forcing him to meet your gaze. his eyes practically have little hearts in them, and a wobbly smirk is on his lips. “you want some more?”

his eyes widen again. you shush him softly, thumbs stroking over the swells of his cheeks, “just nod or shake your head, my lovey boy.”

against his own determination of ‘not needing’ your attention, he finds himself nodding in your hands, butterflies in his stomach going crazy as you smile back and continue to press kisses over his face, voice dripping with honey with every adoring coo you offer him.

[i-arch-my-backula]

Louis and Lestat's reaction to seeing their s/o covered in blood

I did this on Halloween last year for horror characters, which will be getting a part two soon, but I thought, why not do this for more vampires I'm in love with. I'm trying to get back into writing more often and I hope that this will help get the ball rolling. This is also for the 1995 movie, I haven't seen the show.

Warnings: Blood drinking, suggestive content (nothing explicit), reader is covered in blood, Lestat is a freak, not proof read

Lestat De Lioncourt

It's your first feed since being turned. Lestat found the perfect candidates for you and him to share on this lovely night. He soothed your hesitancy and promised it'll be ok. After all, you have to eat to live.

Lestat has been a vampire for centuries, so he knows how to get away mess free from his meals, you on the other hand, aren't quite as skilled at that yet. So as Lestat sucks the blood from his victim, he looks over at you and finds that you're drenched in blood, he can't help but smile to himself.

He finished his meal as you keep going, more blood gushing from your victims neck into your mouth and onto your clothes and face. Lestat has to gently pull your meal away from you, reminding you not to drink dead mans blood.

But good lord you're a sight to behold. Sitting on the ground, the lower half of your face smeared with blood, your clothes soaked in it too, Lestat can feel himself getting aroused just at the sight of you like this. Your hair messy, your clothes slightly opened, the look in your eyes, it's almost too much to handle.

But Lestat, being the gentleman that he is, has to help you clean up. It's not his fault that cleaning you up just so happens to mean making out with you so hard he almost breaks your nose while he licks the blood from your face. Oh and if any blood seeped through your clothes and onto your skin, you bet he's going to lick that off you too.

You blessed him with the sight of you covered in blood and you expect him to not immediately be a freak about it? You clearly don't know anything about Lestat.

Lestat is going to be himself and try to get you that messy every time you eat. He can get someone to wash out your clothes or he'll just get you new ones, it doesn't matter, he sees you covered in blood and he feels his undead heart come to life once again.

Louis De Pointe Du Lac

Louis didn't turn you, but he found you, out at night, crying with hunger, and he knew he had to help you. He's past the point of eating rats and feeling catholic levels of guilt about being a vampire. So he leads you to your first meal.

He has to verbally tell you to be careful as you drink from the person he found you. Because this is your first time drinking from someone, you're very messy with it, any blood that didn't make it into your mouth, made it's way all over your clothes and face.

If you have longer hair Louis will be a gentleman and hold it back for you as you feast. He stays silent the whole time, just letting you get your fill and adjust to this new found hunger being a vampire brings.

Once you're finished and you push your victim away from you, Louis sees just how covered in blood you are. He hates to admit it, but he's obsessed with your look. The red staining the lower half of your face and clothes, your hands covered in blood as you start to lick them clean, God damn you Y/N don't you know what you're doing to him?

Louis won't lick the blood off of you like Lestat did, he's not that big of a freak, but he will lead you into the bathroom and help you clean yourself up, that is until he has to step away because he knows what seeing you like this is doing to him.

If you strip in front of him he could care less, all he cares about in that moment is seeing you in your state of being drenched in blood, having it all over your face and body like that, it drives him mad. If only he could take a picture of you like that.

Unlike Lestat, Louis won't intentionally try and get you all covered in blood again, but he won't teach you how to be careful with drinking blood either. You can't blame a man for wanting to see someone as attractive as you covered in blood as much as possible.

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 braiding : percy jackson

▰▰ pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

percy catches y/n struggling to braid her own hair, so he learns how to do it for her.

author: can't stop thinking abt percy's love language being acts of service :,)

Percy stops at the cabin door. It's half open and a bunch of kids push past him to go out for breakfast. He waits for her to come out behind her siblings, but when she doesn’t, he finally takes a peek inside.

She's sitting on her bed, too focused on her hair to notice Percy's presence, a deep frown on her face as her fingers move swiftly through her hair, trying to braid it— or so Percy guesses. He has seen her doing it effortlessly with her sisters, but she seems to be struggling with doing it by herself.

Percy stands in the doorway as she lets out a frustrated huff and her hands fall defeatedly on her lap, it takes a couple of seconds more for her to look up and find her boyfriend there. "Percy!" she gasps, caught off guard. "For how long have you been standing there?"

"Hey, pretty." he smiles at her, his eyes softening as he rested his shoulder against the doorframe. "Not too long, sorry to interrupt your braiding session, but it's breakfast time."

"I don't want to go, my hair's a mess." she mumbles, the frustration still clear in her tone. "I don't know why it's so easy to braid other people's hair but everytime I try it on myself, I only end up with a rat's nest."

Percy finds the situation just a tiny bit amusing, but seeing the discomfort on his girlfriend's face, he immediatly pushes himself off the doorframe and goes to sit beside her.

"But your hair looks so beautiful, love." He reassures her, taking the hair brush from her hand and brushing her hair gently, getting rid of the few knots that formed in her hair because of her attempt at a braid. "You're the most beautiful girl on camp, braid or no braid."

She huffs. "You're just saying that because you're my boyfriend, you're biased." But Percy can see the moment the frustration starts to melt away, her body relaxing while she allows him to continue brushing her hair.

Percy doesn’t know much about how to do this, and he knows he couldn't pull off doing a braid even if he wanted to, just to please her. So instead, he just goes with the easy way and pulls her hair into a ponytail.

"There you go, my pretty girl." He praises once he has managed to secure her hair with the hair tie he had on his wrist, he always carries one with him just in case she needs it.

He knows she wanted a braid, but she still looks pleased enough to agree to go have breakfast, all her irritation long forgotten. Still, Percy makes a mental note to remind himself that he has to learn to do at least a basic braid.

After breakfast, Percy has plenty of time to check that off his to-do list, since y/n has to go help in the stables, he doesn’t need to make up an excuse to spend his day looking around camp for someone to teach him how to braid hair. That lands him on the aphrodite cabin, surrounded by the younger girls that happily explain the basics to him.

"Well it's definitely... a braid!" one of the girls encourages him when he tries for the first time. It's a mess but he appreciates the encouraging, so he keeps going.

He doesn’t learn that day, not even the next one. He spends hours of his time going through the basics, taking every single advince from the aphrodite girls even if it lands him a lot of teasing from Piper, using rope to mimic hair and trying to go through the motions. Again. And again.

It takes him some time, but at least he feels somewhat ready the next time he sees her struggling. This time, they're in his cabin, they've spent the whole afternoon cuddling and talking about their day. And now she's trying to braid her hair for dinner, once agsin getting frustrated.

Percy takes a deep breath before he suggests, "Maybe I can try?"

She stops her braiding attemp immediatly, turning around to look at him surprised. But then she decides, she's not going anywhere with this, so what's the damage in letting him try? "Okay, you can do it"

Handing him the brush, she turns around to allow him access to her hair. Admitedly, she doesn’t think he'll know how to do a braid, but she still smiles softly and allows herself to relax when Percy starts to brush her hair gently, he's always so careful with this step, so nurturing that it melts her heart everytime.

When he's made sure her hair is free of knots, his hands shake slightly when he reaches to section her hair. But he doesn’t want to mess this up, so after a deep breath, he calms himself down and goes over the advice he safely stored in his mind as his fingers move carefully through her hair.

After some minutes— because he's yet to be as fast as the aphrodite girls, the braid is finally secured with a hair tie in the end. It's not a perfect braid, if Percy has to say so himself, but he's proud of it nonetheless.

He's even prouder when she stands up to see herself on the mirror and a smile grazes her lips. That's all Percy wanted. And he would take about a hundred braiding practices if that meant he got to see her happy.

"How did you learn how to do this?" she asks, gasping softly and looking at it as if it's the prettiest braid ever even though it's the most basic one, and definitely wonky looking.

"I've been practicing" he shrugs, like it's nothing at all. "So, dinner?"

After that, it just becomes an every day activity. She comes into her cabin, or him into hers and they spend hours talking about anything while Percy braids her hair again and again.

When he has mastered the basic braid, he moves on to trying a french braid and when he finally gets the gist of that one, he tries a fishtail brain and when he gets it, he tells y/n it's his favorite one he has done so far— It has nothing to do with the name.

One afternoon, she's sitting cross legged on her bed "Some girls asked about my braid yesterday." She tells him as he's halfway through trying a crown braid. "I might start charging people for your services."

Percy chuckles, but he shakes his head. "You can tell them this is an exclusive service for my pretty girl."

She beams at his words, her heart racing on her chest. "Why did you learn how to braid, anyways?"

"Because" He starts, undoing the braid to start again, this one has proven to be difficult. "You wanted braided hair."

That's simple. She had wanted it, so Percy naturally went through the effort of learning because of her. And he would do it again anytime.

One morning, she's sitting on the edge of Percy's bed, bouncing her knee anxiously. Today's training is supposed to be intense. Chiron paired her with Clarisse for sparring, and even though she doesn't consider herself bad at combat— Well, she's nowhere near Clarisse's level. One bad move, and she could get sliced in two.

As pulls on his camp shirt, he catches her fidgeting. he watches her for a moment before quietly settling behind her on the bed.

"Percy what are you—" She stops herself when he reaches for her brush, softly taking it away from her hands.

"You're nervous" He points out while he starts brushing, working through any knots. "You're gonna drive yourself crazy before you pick any sword, love."

She knows he's right, but that doesn't stop her of being dramatic. "I'll die, Perce."

Percy chuckles, sectioning her hair. "You're not going to die." His fingers start the now familiar pattern of weaving strands together. "You're great, you just need to trust yourself."

She sighs, but she say anything else because she's already starting to relax as his hands work through her hair. He's gotten really good at this, and she finds it oddly comforting as she closes her eyes, allowing his presence to ground her.

After a few seconds, he secures the braid with a hair tie on his wrist and leans to press a kiss to her temple. "There. Good luck braid."

She giggles, turning to him with amusement shining on her eyes. At least, Percy thinks, she doesn’t look too nervous anymore. "Good luck braid?"

"Yes" He shrugs, grinning at her. "Now you have no choice but to win."

"That's surely not how good luck works." She points out, rolling her eyes, but she can't help the smile that grazes her lips.

"It is now." he replies, standing up and holding out his hand to help her up. "Come on, let's get you to the arena."

As they walk, she touches her braid lightly, feeling steadier than before. Maybe it's crazy, but she swears she feels a little more confident when she finally steps onto the training field.

After that, it just becomes their thing. Before any big training, when she's feeling nervous and fidgety, she finds Percy. She plops down without a word, handing him a brush and he just knows what to do.

"Percy, y/n are you guys—" Annabeth stops at the doorway, smirking at the sight in front of her. "What are you guys doing?"

Percy's halfway through a neat french braid when he looks up and grins. "Good luck braid. Very important business."

Annabeth rolls her eyes, but she leaves them alone after reminding them training starts in ten minutes. This time, y/n isn't nervous, because the braid on her head is just a reminder that Percy believes in her enough to give her the confidence to believe in herself, too.