#I just— I just want peace is that so difficult?

[missarchive]

Spencer finally agrees to let you peg him and out of no where becomes a full submissive whiny and needy

so maybe i got a little carried away with this one...

cw; +18 minors dni, sub!spencer, anal play, oral (m. receiving), pegging, praise, sex toys, porn mention

You step into your bedroom, the weight of the day pressing down on you like a heavy blanket. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm, golden hue across the room, but even that familiar comfort doesn’t alleviate your exhaustion. With a deep sigh, you collapse onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight. The month has been brutal—a seemingly endless series of late nights, grueling days, and one of the most difficult cases your team has ever faced. The effort has drained every ounce of your energy, leaving little time for yourself, let alone for Spencer.

Your eyes drift to him, lying on his side of the bed, his profile bathed in the faint light. His eyes are closed, and the faint strains of classical music hum softly from his earbuds. It’s his nightly ritual, a small slice of tranquility amid the chaos. He’s so focused, so absorbed in the music, that he doesn’t even notice your gaze lingering on him.

You watch him for a few quiet moments, taking in the way his features seem to soften in the calm. His lashes rest against his cheeks, and his lips part ever so slightly, as though he’s on the verge of sleep. Something about him looks so peaceful, so untouched by the storm you’ve both weathered.

Taking a steadying breath, you push yourself upright. The exhaustion doesn’t fade, but something compels you to move closer. Crawling across the bed, you reach out, your hand coming to rest gently on his chest. His warmth seeps into your palm, grounding you in the moment.

“Spencer, honey,” you murmur softly.

The music halts immediately, and his eyes flutter open. He blinks a few times before focusing on you, his gaze warm and familiar despite the weariness etched across his face. “Hey, sweetheart,” he replies, his voice tinged with the heaviness of the day but laced with affection. “What’s up?”

You smile at the tenderness in his tone. Even now, when exhaustion clings to both of you like a second skin, he’s still so present, so attentive. “I wanted to ask you something,” you say, sliding out from under the covers to kneel on the mattress beside him.

Spencer sits up immediately, his brow furrowing slightly as his focus sharpens. “What is it?” he asks, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of apprehension.

You hesitate for a moment, searching for the right words. Your heart pounds a little faster as you finally voice the question. “I was wondering if you would let me peg you,” you say, keeping your tone as soft and nonchalant as possible.

His eyes widen slightly, and you notice the flicker of fear that passes through them. Spencer has always been open-minded and eager to make you happy, but you know this particular subject is new territory for him.

“Um…” he begins, his voice faltering as his gaze darts away. You can see the uncertainty in the way his hands fidget with the edge of the blanket. “I don’t know,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reach out to touch his arm, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay,” you say gently, offering him an easy way out. “We don’t have to. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” You start to slide back under the covers, prepared to let the moment pass, but his hand suddenly closes over yours, stopping you in your tracks.

“Wait,” he says, his voice firmer now.

You turn back to him, and this time his gaze is steady, locking onto yours with a newfound resolve. The nervousness is still there, but beneath it, you catch a spark of courage.

“I want to try it,” he says, his words measured but sincere. Your heart leaps at the declaration, a swell of gratitude and affection washing over you.

He hesitates, his voice softening as his vulnerability shines through. “I just… I don’t know if I’m going to like it. What if I hate it?” There’s a crack in his voice, and you can see how much courage it’s taking for him to even consider this.

You reach out again, cupping his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing gently against his cheeks. “If you don’t like it, we’ll stop. No pressure, no expectations. I just love that you’re willing to try this for me,” you say, your voice filled with reassurance.

Spencer nods slowly, exhaling a shaky breath. The nervousness in his eyes doesn’t disappear completely, but there’s a flicker of trust there now—trust in you and in the connection you share.

“I’m going to make sure you like it,” you say softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. The warmth of the gesture makes his smile bloom, and he kisses you back, his lips tender and unhurried against yours.

“I promise I’ll take care of you,” you murmur, your voice filled with affection and sincerity. You kiss him again, this time lingering just a little longer, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. When you pull away, his smile is still there—soft and genuine—and the sight of it fills your chest with a deep, quiet happiness.

“We’ll take a few days,” you continue, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face. “I want you to feel comfortable and relaxed. When you’re ready, we’ll do this. Okay?”

Spencer looks at you for a moment, his hazel eyes searching yours before he nods. “Okay,” he says softly, his voice carrying a mixture of trust and determination.

Satisfied, you shift back to your usual spot on your side of the bed, nestling into the familiar warmth of the blankets. Spencer watches you with a thoughtful expression before settling down beside you, his hand briefly grazing yours as if to anchor himself to you.

“Alright,” he says, his tone lightening just enough to let you know he’s trying. “I’ll do my best to relax by then.”

You smile to yourself, feeling a quiet pride in his willingness to try something new, to trust you so deeply. The soft hum of contentment settles over the room, and as you close your eyes, you know this is just another way your connection grows stronger.

A few days later, Spencer comes home earlier than usual. You’re lounging in the living room when you hear the front door open and slam shut, followed by the unmistakable sound of his hurried footsteps heading straight for the bedroom. Something about his energy feels different—excited, almost jittery.

Curious, you follow him and peek into the room just as he’s setting down a large box and a few smaller items you can’t quite make out. He’s grinning from ear to ear, his cheeks flushed with anticipation, and his hazel eyes shine brighter than you’ve seen in days.

“What’s all that?” you ask, your curiosity piqued as you step closer.

Spencer takes a deep breath, his hands brushing over the box nervously before he looks up at you. “I did some research,” he says, his tone a mixture of pride and awkwardness. His gaze flickers down to the items he’s brought, and his cheeks redden even further. “I was scared at first, but… I knew how much this meant to you.”

You tilt your head, watching him intently as he takes a small step forward. There’s a flicker of determination in his expression now, pushing through the nerves. “So… I watched porn.”

The words catch you off guard, and a burst of laughter escapes before you can stop it. Spencer looks so adorably earnest, standing there with that sheepish expression, that you can’t help but find the moment endearing. “Porn?” you repeat, chuckling.

“Well, yeah,” he says, shifting on his feet as he scratches the back of his neck. “It seemed like the most efficient way to learn. I wanted to understand, you know… technique.” His tone is matter-of-fact, but the blush spreading across his face betrays his embarrassment.

Your laughter softens into a warm smile as he takes another step closer, his nervous energy practically radiating off him. “So,” he continues, motioning to the items behind him, “I bought all this stuff for us. I think it should work well together.”

Intrigued, you walk over to the pile and begin inspecting it. Inside the box, you find a selection of items: large plugs, sleek dildos in varying sizes, several bottles of lube, and a high-quality harness. Your excitement builds as you take in everything he’s thoughtfully gathered. Each piece feels intentional, like he’s truly put effort into understanding and preparing for this.

When you turn back to him, Spencer is watching you closely, his cheeks still a deep shade of red. The vulnerability in his expression makes your heart swell.

“Do you think we can start now?” he asks, his voice soft but steady as his eyes meet yours.

You nod, your excitement bubbling to the surface as you motion for him to come closer. He steps forward, his movements tentative but purposeful, and you reach for him, your hands finding their way to his shoulders.

Leaning in, you press your lips to his in a tender kiss. His lips are warm and soft against yours, trembling slightly with nerves. You can taste his apprehension, but it’s clear that his desire to please you—and his trust in you—overpowers his fears.

As the kiss deepens, you feel him relax ever so slightly, his hands brushing tentatively against your sides. The air between you is electric, charged with a mix of anticipation and affection. You pull back just enough to whisper, “We’ll take it slow, okay?”

Spencer nods, his eyes locked on yours, and you can see the flicker of trust and excitement that’s starting to replace his nerves. 

You lean in, pressing soft kisses along Spencer’s neck, letting your lips linger just enough to tease. His breathing is already growing heavier, each exhale escaping with a faint quiver. You smile against his skin, the anticipation bubbling up inside you. This is going to be fun.

Trailing your kisses lower, you take your time exploring, savoring every reaction. When you reach his collarbone, you gently nip at it, and the sound he makes—a sharp gasp—sends a thrill through you. You glance up to see him tipping his head back, his eyes closed, his face awash in pleasure.

“Come on,” you whisper, taking his hand in yours. There’s no hesitation as he follows you, his trust evident in the way his fingers lace with yours. You guide him to the bed, and he sits on the edge, watching you with wide, expectant eyes.

Moving with intention, you step closer and begin to undress him. Your fingers work delicately at the buttons of his shirt, and as each one comes undone, you notice the faint rise and fall of his chest quicken. He’s looking at you intently, the nerves creeping back into his expression.

But then, his eyes meet yours. The warmth and hunger in your gaze seem to melt his apprehension. You can see the moment he relaxes, the tension in his shoulders easing as he realizes just how much you want this—how much you want him.

Once his clothes are discarded, you gently urge him to lie back on the bed. He complies, stretching out across the mattress, his legs parting instinctively as you position him. You pause for a moment, taking in the sight of him—his flushed cheeks, his slightly parted lips, and the way his body seems to tremble under your gaze.

Leaning down, you start with soft, warm kisses on the inside of his thighs. His skin is smooth and sensitive, and the way he twitches beneath your touch makes your smile widen. You keep your pace unhurried, teasing him with featherlight brushes of your lips.

Spencer’s breathing grows erratic, a mix of gasps and soft whimpers escaping him as you work your way closer to where he wants you most. His legs are already squirming, shifting restlessly as he tries to process the sensations.

“You’re so sensitive,” you murmur against his skin, your voice low and teasing.

He lets out a breathy laugh, but it’s quickly swallowed by another gasp as you press a firmer kiss to the tender flesh of his thigh.

You inch closer, your lips trailing ever upward, and the anticipation in Spencer’s body is palpable. His legs shift restlessly, his chest rising and falling as his breath comes in short, uneven bursts. By the time you’re near his cock, he’s already squirming beneath you, unable to stay still.

He’s so hard already, his arousal evident in the way he twitches with every slight movement of your touch. You glance up at him briefly before taking him into your mouth, the heat and weight of him filling you. The moment your lips wrap around him, he lets out a soft, unfiltered gasp that shoots straight through you.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes, his voice rough and tinged with disbelief at the sensation.

You hum softly in response, letting the vibrations ripple through him as you start to move. Slow, deliberate bobs of your head have him unraveling almost immediately. You can feel every pulse, every throb of his arousal, and it only spurs you on.

Spencer’s hands grip the sheets beside him, his knuckles turning white as he struggles to keep some semblance of control. You know if you keep this up much longer, he’s not going to last—and that’s exactly why you stop.

Pulling back slowly, you release him with a soft, teasing drag of your tongue. Spencer’s eyes snap open, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of confusion and desperation. For a moment, he looks like he’s about to protest, his lips parting to complain, but then he notices the playful smile curling at the corners of your mouth.

“What?” he asks breathlessly, his voice hoarse with need as he glances down at you.

His expression is equal parts bewildered and captivated, and you can’t help but relish the sight of him—flushed, vulnerable, and completely at your mercy.

“I need you to relax for me, baby,” you whisper, your voice soft and soothing. Spencer looks at you, his hazel eyes filled with a mixture of nervousness and trust. After a moment, he nods, his lips curving into a small, hesitant smile. You watch as he exhales deeply, his shoulders beginning to loosen.

“That’s it,” you murmur, your tone encouraging as you reach over to the bedside table. You grab the bottle of lube, the cool weight of it in your hand grounding you as you turn back to him. Squeezing a generous amount into your palm, you warm it between your fingers before gently applying it to his rim.

He lets out a shaky breath at the first touch, his body instinctively tensing under your hand. “Relax,” you remind him softly, your other hand moving to rest reassuringly on his thigh. You feel the tension ease slightly as he takes another deep breath, his chest rising and falling in an effort to steady himself.

You slowly slip one finger inside, feeling his body react to the intrusion. He flinches slightly, his muscles tightening, but almost immediately forces himself to relax again, exhaling in measured breaths. His determination makes your heart swell, and you offer him a soft, encouraging smile.

“That’s good,” you say quietly, watching him closely. After a few moments, he nods, signaling his readiness for more.

Gently, you add a second finger, moving them with deliberate care. You curl and scissor them slightly, giving him time to adjust. His breathing quickens, and a small, breathy moan escapes his lips. The sound sends a spark of heat through you, and your gaze drifts up to his face.

Spencer’s eyes are closed now, his expression soft and blissful, his lips parted as he lets himself feel everything. The sight of him like this—so vulnerable, so completely in the moment—makes desire pool low in your belly. You bite your lip, trying to steady yourself, but it’s impossible not to feel the pull of how much you want him.

Carefully, you add a third finger. The moment you do, his whole body tenses again, his thighs clenching under your touch. “Shh,” you soothe, your free hand stroking his thigh in slow, calming motions. “Just relax, sweetheart. You’re doing so well.”

Spencer’s breaths are uneven as he struggles to let go of the tension. You feel him gradually soften under your touch, his body yielding bit by bit. His trust in you is palpable, and you move your fingers again, slow and deliberate, watching his reactions closely.

“That’s it, good boy, Spence” you whisper, your voice filled with quiet praise. He nods faintly, his body beginning to respond to the sensations rather than resist them. You feel the subtle shift as he starts to relax fully into your touch, and it only heightens the growing anticipation between you.

Spencer’s breaths are coming faster now, each exhale accompanied by soft, desperate moans that seem to escape without his permission. His chest rises and falls in rhythm with the pleasure coursing through him, and you know he’s finally relaxed enough to take the next step.

With care, you slide your fingers out of him, his body trembling slightly at the loss of contact. For a moment, you glance down and feel the heat bloom within you—you’re dripping wet, slick with desire, and the realization sends a thrill through your body. You smirk, your arousal heightened by how much Spencer has stirred in you.

Reaching down, you gather some of your wetness on your fingers, the sensation making you bite your lip in anticipation. Without hesitation, you wrap your slick fingers around his cock and stroke him gently, spreading your wetness over his length.

The reaction is immediate. Spencer gasps sharply, his eyes fluttering open as he looks down at you. His gaze locks onto your hand, watching as you glide over him, the sight seemingly too much for him to process. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice breaking on the word.

You smirk, letting your fingers trace over the sensitive head of his cock, watching his hips shift involuntarily in response. “You want me that badly?” you ask, your tone playful but tinged with heat.

“Yes,” he whispers, his voice hoarse and filled with longing. He nods, his body practically vibrating with need.

Leaning down, you press your tongue against the underside of his cock, dragging it slowly from base to tip. The loud moan that spills from him is raw and unrestrained, sending shivers down your spine. His cock twitches against your lips, the sensation fueling your growing desire.

You continue, licking and teasing him, savoring every sound he makes. Spencer’s moans grow louder, filling the room as you work him over with deliberate care. The way he writhes beneath you, his hands gripping the sheets as though they’re the only thing anchoring him, is intoxicating.

“Please,” he whimpers, his voice needy and breathless. “Oh, fuck, yes, please.”

His words make you smirk, a spark of satisfaction flickering in your chest as you take him deeper. You alternate between slow, languid strokes and quicker movements, your tongue tracing along his length with purpose. The taste of him, the sounds he makes, the way his body trembles—it all drives you to keep going.

After a few minutes, you feel him tensing again, his thighs tightening, his breathing becoming erratic. You know he’s close, his body teetering on the edge. You don’t let up, your head bobbing as you take him deeper, your tongue flicking over his most sensitive spots.

With a final, desperate moan, Spencer arches his back, his release hitting you in waves as he finishes in your mouth. You stay with him through it, savoring every reaction, until his body relaxes beneath you, spent and trembling. You pull away gently, wiping the corner of your mouth as you look up at him, his flushed face and half-lidded eyes the perfect reward for your efforts.

Spencer’s chest heaves as he struggles to catch his breath, his skin flushed and glistening with a light sheen of sweat. When you finally release him, his cock slipping from your mouth, he groans softly. “That was so fucking good,” he murmurs, his voice still thick and breathless.

You smirk, wiping the corner of your lips as you rise to your feet. “We’re not done yet,” you tease, shooting him a playful glance. His gaze follows you as you walk over to the bedside table, where you retrieve one of the plugs he picked out and the lube.

Returning to him, you squirt a generous amount of lube onto your fingers, warming it between them before gently pressing against his rim again. The sensation pulls a moan from him almost instantly, his body reacting to your touch.

“Relax for me,” you whisper, your tone both soothing and commanding. Spencer nods faintly, his muscles easing as you work your way back in. Sliding one finger inside, you feel him clench momentarily before softening again.

“Fuck,” he breathes, the word falling from his lips like a mantra, over and over, as though it’s the only thought he can cling to.

You add a second finger, twisting and scissoring them gently to stretch him further. His back arches off the bed, his head pressing into the pillow as he gasps, “Holy shit.” His voice trembles, and the moans that follow are softer now, more drawn out, as he lets the pleasure overtake him.

His body writhes under your touch, his breathing becoming shallow and erratic. You can tell he’s teetering close to the edge again, his cock twitching against his stomach. But you’re not ready for him to finish—not yet.

Adding a bit more lube, you withdraw your fingers and press the first plug against his entrance. Slowly, carefully, you ease it in, watching as his body adjusts. Spencer lets out a sharp gasp at the new sensation, his thighs trembling as his entire body tenses for a moment.

You pause, your free hand resting on his thigh in reassurance. “Breathe,” you murmur, waiting until his body softens again. When he finally relaxes, you ask, “How does that feel?”

His head tilts back as he nods, his voice barely audible. “Fuck yes, so so good,” he mumbles, though the words are almost lost in his shaky breaths.

You can’t help the swell of pride in your chest as you take in the sight of him—so open, so willing to trust you with this. He’s being incredibly brave, pushing himself beyond his comfort zone, and it’s not lost on you how vulnerable he must feel.

Leaning over, you press a soft kiss to his lips, your voice gentle and affectionate as you murmur, “Good boy.”

The effect is immediate. Spencer’s eyes snap to yours, and for a moment, you see something new flicker within them. There’s a softness there, a quiet, submissive energy that hadn’t been present before.

You smirk, your lips curving into a knowing smile as you whisper, “You like that, don’t you?”

He doesn’t answer with words, but the way his cheeks flush deeper and his eyes dart away shyly tells you everything you need to know. His vulnerability is achingly beautiful, and you make a silent vow to take care of him—to guide him through this new experience with all the care and tenderness he deserves.

You lean down and kiss him deeply, your lips brushing softly against his before pulling away just enough to see his face. Spencer looks up at you, his eyes wide and filled with anticipation. “What do I do?” he asks, his voice tinged with both curiosity and need, so vulnerable yet eager.

The sound of him like this—so needy, so open—is enough to make your breath hitch. “Just let me take care of you,” you whisper, running your fingers down his chest. The slight drag of your nails across his skin elicits a low, drawn-out moan from him, his body arching into your touch.

“Let me make you feel good,” you say softly, your hand gliding down to wrap around his cock. He’s already hard again, his arousal obvious in the way he throbs in your palm. Spencer’s cheeks flush pink, and he lets out another quiet moan as you stroke him slowly.

Your movements pause as you reach for the harness, slipping it on with practiced ease. The straps hug your hips snugly, and you adjust it to make sure it’s secure. The soft click of the buckles draws Spencer’s attention, and his breath hitches audibly when he sees you attach the dildo.

“What...what is that?” he stammers, his voice cracking slightly as his gaze flicks between the harness and your face.

“It’s a harness,” you say with a smile, stepping closer so he can see it better. Holding up the dildo, you let it catch the light as you grin down at him. “And this,” you purr, running your fingers along its length for effect, “is what I’m going to fuck you with.”

The way Spencer’s eyes darken with a mixture of nervousness and excitement is absolutely intoxicating. His lips part as though he wants to say something, but no words come out. Instead, he shifts slightly on the bed, his thighs pressing together in anticipation.

You grab the lube, squirting a generous amount onto the dildo and spreading it evenly. The slick sound fills the quiet room, heightening the tension as you glance up at him.

“Are you ready?” you ask, your voice low and steady, but the heat in your tone is unmistakable.

Spencer’s head tips back against the pillow, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. “Fuck yes, please, sweetheart” he breathes, his voice trembling with desire.

Positioning yourself behind him, you take a moment to admire him. His body is laid bare before you, his back arched slightly, his ass raised in perfect submission. The sight alone makes your pulse race, and you can’t help but let out a soft exhale.

You press the tip of the dildo against his entrance, moving slowly and deliberately. The resistance is brief before the head slips inside, and Spencer lets out a soft, shuddering moan. His muscles clench reflexively around you, his body so tight and warm that it takes everything in you not to rush.

“Breathe,” you remind him gently, your free hand stroking his lower back in reassurance. He takes a shaky inhale, the tension easing as you push in a little further.

His whimpers fill the room, soft and needy, the sound sending a jolt of heat straight through you. “Oh, God,” he whispers, his voice strained as his hands grip the sheets. The vulnerability in his tone makes your chest tighten with both affection and desire.

You move inch by inch, letting him adjust at his own pace. Each sound he makes—every gasp, every whispered curse—fuels you, and the way his body quivers beneath you is impossibly alluring.

When you’re fully seated inside him, you pause, leaning over to kiss the back of his neck. “You’re doing so well, Spence” you murmur against his skin, your voice soft but full of praise. His whole body shivers at your words, and you can feel him relax even further, melting into the moment.

You reach around Spencer and start to stroke his cock. He gasps when he feels you touch him again, you know he must be so over-sensitive by this point. “Holy fuck, that feels good,” he gasps. You can hear how close he’s getting. “Faster, please,” he begs. You oblige and start to go harder.

You can feel Spencer starting to tighten up around the dildo, you know he’s getting even closer. “Oh fuck,” he says loudly. You’re going as fast as you can, you know your thighs will be on fire tomorrow morning.

“Fuck me harder,” he gasps, you can hear the whine in his voice.

Spencer lets out a loud gasp, his body going even more tense. His cock twitches before shooting out into your palm, cum trickling down your hand as he arches into your touch subconsciously. Thrusting into him until you feel him go limp against you before gently pulling the dildo out, allowing him to collapse back onto the bed. His face is sweaty and his breathing is labored but you think he’s never looked more beautiful. You climb off him and lay beside him, giving him a kiss on the lips. “Such a pretty boy,” you praise, he smiles at you.

You lean up to kiss him again but he suddenly looks worried.

“Did I do good?” He asks. You can hear the fear in his voice and you look at him with soft eyes. “Of course you did,” you say, giving him another kiss. His eyes immediately relax and he smiles. “Did so well for me, honey,” you praise him, giving him soft kisses down his neck.

Spencer moans softly as you kiss him and you can tell that he’s enjoying the aftercare. “Thank you,” he says softly. “For what?” You ask. “For doing this with me,” he says. You look at him with softness and you smile.  “Anything for you,” you say.

You continue with the aftercare until Spencer is relaxed again. His eyes are closed and his breathing is normal again. You give him one last kiss before you climb out of bed to get cleaned up. As soon as you’re standing you feel a soft hand wrap around your thigh, you look down and see Spencer looking up at you with need in his eyes again.

“Where are you going?” He asks.

“Just to clean up,” you say, your voice gentle but practical as you shift to sit up.

But before you can move, Spencer’s hand lightly brushes against your arm. “Stay here with me,” he whispers, his tone so soft and pleading that it tugs at your heartstrings. “Please?”

There’s something about the way he says it—so vulnerable, so utterly sincere—that makes it impossible to refuse him. The faint curve of his lips and the tired, hopeful gleam in his eyes only add to his charm. He’s irresistible like this, a mix of sweet and earnest.

“Okay,” you murmur, a smile tugging at your lips as you settle back down beside him.

Spencer’s face lights up with a small, grateful smile before he shifts closer, snuggling into your side as if seeking comfort in your warmth. His lean frame molds perfectly against you, and the weight of him feels grounding, soothing.

Gently, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close and holding him securely. The soft scent of his shampoo mingles with the faintest trace of coffee still clinging to him, a reminder of the day you’ve shared.

“Thank you,” he breathes, his voice muffled as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. His hair tickles your skin, but the sensation is pleasant, comforting even.

You feel the tension in his body slowly melt away, his breathing evening out as he relaxes fully into your embrace. The moment feels tender, intimate—a quiet connection shared in the stillness of the room.

Before long, the soft rhythm of his snores fills the air. You hold him a little tighter, savouring the peacefulness of having him so close, and let yourself be lost in the simplicity of the moment.

[adieutristana]

Jinx and her girlfriend stopping Vi and Caitlyn's wedding just for fun

LMAOO?? this is messy… anyways of course! thank you for the request <3

summary; jinx and her girlfriend crashing caitlyn and vi’s wedding.

characters included; jinx (romantic), vi (platonic), caitlyn (platonic)

tags/warnings; crack kinda, fluff, caitvi, mentions of war/combat, in-laws

men dni.

stating that jinx doesn't like caitlyn kiramman is like saying that grass is green.

saying that she doesn't like caitlyn with her sister even more so.

she’s tried to be patient, tried to appreciate the fact that her sister had someone to love and love her in return. despite the fact that that someone was a topsider, an enforcer no less.

could she not find someone in zaun that would be just as good for her? someone who wasn’t allied with the people who killed their parents?

regardless, jinx came to terms with the relationship as time went on. jinx and vi weren’t exactly on good terms to begin with- and getting herself involved in vi’s relationship wasn’t bound to make things any less tense. while vi knew that jinx didn’t approve of the relationship- especially after the stunt she pulled with kidnapping the two of them, the two of them didn’t talk about it explicitly.

caitlyn had grown to tolerate jinx, sometimes even going as far as to show genuine concern for the girl and talk to her in her own time. their encounters had always been fleeting, no more than a few sentences exchanged, but it was peaceful. it was something. she could live with this, jinx thought.

that was until they got engaged.

“hey, jinx. caitlyn and i recently got engaged, and while i know you’re less than happy about the relationship, i still want you to be there. you’re my sister and i don’t want you to miss this. you’re welcome to bring your girlfriend with you. i’ve put the invitation in here, love you.

-vi”

jinx is seething next to you, fighting herself to not rip up the stupid envelope and throw away the stupid invitation and curse out her stupid sister. your hand on her shoulder with your thumb gently running along the skin, doing everything you can to soothe your girlfriend.

“baby, she’s just trying to include you… you’re sisters.”

you whisper, voice low and soft as you can manage. she shakes her head and goes to start picking at her cuticiles- which you have to physically stop her from doing.

“she’s doing it to get to me. she can’t be actually marrying her, can she?”

she says through gritted teeth, and you can’t tell if jinx is trying to ask you or herself. you can’t tell if she wants an answer, either, but decide to not give her one for fear of making things even worse.

the girl is almost rocking herself forward and back in an effort to try and stop herself from doing something she’ll regret, and it breaks your heart to see her like this. after caitlyn shooting off her finger, after the war, the way that caitlyn spoke about zaun and its inhabitants, you could understand perfectly well why jinx wouldn’t approve of her. but this was worse than you’ve ever seen her in regards to the issue.

it was finally settling in that caitlyn was there to stay. maybe part of jinx was convinced that this would all blow over, it was a phase, and vi would wake up and realize that she didn’t need her. despite the fact that jinx told her she deserved to be with her.

“i shouldn’t have said that. i shouldn’t.”

she mutters. it truly does break your heart to see jinx like this, so distraught and torn. she tried to be supportive, tried to see things from her sister's point of view (especially with your help), but she just couldn't.

you let out a heavy sigh, observing your girlfriend's pained expression. part of you wants to keep trying to talk to her and comfort her, the other part wants to let her have time to think and process everything. either way, you'd be there the entire way through. but sometimes with jinx, despite how long you've been together, it can be difficult to tell the exact thing she needs. but for your own conscience, you have to know that you at least tried.

"jinx... we don't have to go if you don't want to."

you offer, pressing close to jinx so that your shoulders are now touching. your approach is careful. if she doesn't want to take it, she doesn't have to, but it's something at the very least. she lets out a shaky breath, keeping her gaze downcast. it's like she's begun to shut down.

"no... no, we'll be there. we'll be there."

she mumbles. voice barely audible, but stern.

✧.*

"you're sure about this?"

you ask, hands occupied with tying a black tie onto jinx.

"yeah, i'm sure. all according to plan, right?"

she smirks, hands on her hips. you'd decided to go to a secondhand shop in the undercity to grab some clothes for jinx that would be acceptable for a wedding- gods know she doesn't have any. a simple white long-sleeved blouse, black tie, and black slacks. not too polished, not too flashy, but just formal enough for her sister's big day.

you'd also taken it upon yourself to carefully braid jinx's usual unruly hair, despite her (playful) protests. though the way she relaxed under your touch and her shoulders dropped the moment your fingertips grazed her scalp told you everything you needed to know.

"alright, ready!"

jinx exclaims before grabbing the last of her things and swiftly grabbing your arm, leading you toward the exit of her hideout. she seems oddly energetic- possibly even giddy. she hadn't been excited for this day at all until coming up with one of her typical schemes, and now it seemed as if the girl was just itching to get to the chapel.

while reluctant at first considering these were about to be basically your in-laws, you found yourself agreeing to jinx's plan. you've always been on board with the chaos innate in jinx, but the way she lit up as she described her so-called 'master plan' to you cemented that you simply couldn't say no. it was a fun idea, and jinx was counting on you to help enact it. who were you to refuse her?

✧.*

the kirammans have truly outdone themselves.

a large chapel decorated with luxurious shades of blue and gold, with hints of bright pink thrown into the flower arrangements. chandeliers, soft candlelight, windows of stained glass and pews large enough to sit an entire city.

you and jinx exchange a few polite yet drawn out 'hello's, 'nice to see you's, and 'thanks for coming's from council members, ex-fighters and members of the remaining kiramman clan.

you slide down a white pew near the front of the chapel with jinx, one that had been reserved for vi's guests. jinx huffs, folding her arms out onto the edge of the pew in front and resting her chin on them.

"just got here, and you're already bored?"

you tease, tilting your head to look down at the girl.

"yeah. this sucks."

"it hasn't started yet."

"yeah, and it'll suck worse when it does."

jinx starts bouncing her left leg, heel quickly tapping across the floor and nearly echoing through the large room. she huffs, looking to the altar, then back, toward the aisle, all around, waiting for something to happen.

"and you're completely sure that we're doing this, right?"

jinx nods, giving a little 'mhm.'

you'd discussed the plan several times in the days leading up to the wedding. jinx hadn't left a single base uncovered in terms of timing, execution, what to say, what to do. one of your favorite things about her had always been her tendency to get wrapped up the second that she really puts her mind to something. whether that be jinx drowning out any external noises while tinkering, using all of her strength to handle weapons twice her weight, or scouring all of zaun for materials, her dedication was always evident.

guests continue pouring in, and it seems as if caitlyn has invited the entire population of piltover. maybe she has. unsurprisingly and unfortunately, there aren't many on vi's side, but the ones that are count. jinx, yourself, a few old friends of vi's from the lanes, and seemingly some new friends and colleagues. vi's circle had always been small, but the people in it were of such high value.

yourself and jinx pass a few more minutes with jinx's head on your shoulder, exchanging soft kisses in anticipation for what's to come, fixing jinx's tie and simply people-watching. before the chord of a pipe organ is heard, and all heads turn to the back of the room- where caitlyn is being led down the aisle by her father.

that dress alone could cost more than the lifetime salary of ten zaunites. regardless, it's beautiful. sleek, pure white, with a silver tiara atop loosely curled blue hair. the room is still, the only things moving being the two kirammans. the moment is picturesque, it's captivating.

shortly after comes vi, walking down the aisle by unaccompanied. she looks considerably more anxious than her fiancee, but with so much pure glee that it's weighed out. she anxiously looks over at her side of the chapel, her face softening the slightest bit when she lays eyes on jinx. the girl gives her a soft smile, and although jinx doesn't react, you almost swear you could see vi mouthing something to her sister.

when both women are on the altar and the ceremony starts, it's like gears begin turning in jinx's head. she takes your hand into hers, squeezing it against her lip as her eyes turn to you.

"ready, toots?"

she whispers, the slightest smirk evident on her expression. you nod, squeezing her hand back. neither of your eyes move from the scene unfolding in front of you. caitlyn and vi with their hands clasped, looking into each other's eyes so lovingly as they exchange vows. everything was in place, you'd made sure everything was planted and taken care of before the actual event.

"if anybody should object to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace."

jinx immediately shoots up from her seat, hand raised high.

"yeah, i've got somethin'!"

she keeps her gaze on the now bewildered couple as you pull a remote from your pocket, triggering pink and blue smoke bombs from the corridors of the chapel. the crowd immediately erupts into a scatter of screams, people rushing from their seats and trying to take cover. just some colored smoke bombs; nothing that would cause harm, but sure as hell enough to cause a commotion. jinx places her hands on her hips, shaking her head.

"just some smoke bombs... pussies."

she remarks, before grabbing your hand and beginning to make her way out of the chapel with haste. not before turning over her shoulder and yelling, "tough luck!" to the couple first, though. you're giggling beside your girlfriend as the two of you run off into the streets of piltover, not even sure of your destination. only enjoying the thrill of it all and the feeling of running off into nowhere with each other. jinx's laugh is infectious, the sound ringing in your ears as she pulls you into an alleyway.

your girlfriend quickly presses your back to a wall as she grasps your waist, grinning at you.

"how was that for a wedding?"

"pretty damn good."

she barks out another laugh, before connecting her lips to yours.

[silvertheduckling]

Shadows in the Rain

This is a Shadow one shot! I could make it into a series if everyone likes :3 Music I recommend for this fic, (if you like listening and reading) is Sailor by Alex Kehm. Also her song card Howl also fits the mood ♡

Summary: You find Shadow in the park during a rainy afternoon, and you share an umbrella.

Reader is a mobian and GUN agent. (1,347 words.) Hope you enjoy! 💙

It was a misty afternoon, as soft rain drops fell from the sky. Small puddles pooled in curbs and in the imperfections of the sidewalk. There was no breeze or movement, just calm, peaceful silence. Except for the patter of the rain drops, making a pleasant hum. You had taken the afternoon off, to enjoy this serene atmosphere. Umbrella in hand, as your boots made little splashes on the wet sidewalk. 

That morning, you had been assigned to work with Shadow, only for Shadow nowhere to be found. It was unusual for him to be absent, for he was always very punctual, especially if others were relying on him. You worried about him, for how uncharacteristic it was. But you were left with your thoughts and the soft sound of the rain.

 He was a very intriguing person; Rouge herself had told you about how he was. She always teased you about Shadow, saying you had a way of pulling words out of him that no one else could. Though you were never sure if you believed her. Over the few months together on missions, he never conversed more than necessary.

Only, his eyes always spoke more than his voice ever did. You could swear you'd seen a hint of vulnerability in his deep, ruby eyes. A hidden struggle behind those beautiful gems. 

 His gaze always seemed to stiffen as soon as it became too revealing. Making you wonder if those moments were all a work in your head.  

Over these past months, he'd warmed up to you more, though never getting too comfortable. On those riskier missions he always would choose the more difficult front-line assignments. Saying you wouldn't be able to keep up. 

Those missions when you could see the flash of panic when you made a close call, the strong reprimand to never do that again on the ride to headquarters. When you'd see that deeper look in his eyes. Those moments when you understood he did care. 

He had showed it many times. When he had saved your life. When enemies got a little too close and he stepped in front of you. Shielding you with himself. Though, more recently, he had grown distant. 

Ever since you both had been on a mission that cut very close. Too close. In the moment he insistently asked if you were alright, looking you over many times. That desperate worry in his eyes as he looked in yours. He held you by your shoulders making you look in his eyes, his grip firm but gentle.

"Don't do that again."

The passing of a car splashing in the little stream brought you out of your thoughts, the blur of fading headlights melting in the hazy fog. 

 Faint glow from a light pole shined a misty haze over an approaching bench, a figure lightly illuminated there. Curiosity bubbled in you as you wondered who the figure was. Once close enough the misty glow revealed an empty stare, Shadow. 

Raindrops trickled from his fur to the cool ground. He looked so distant, so lost. Gazing in no direction in particular, tension in his hands as they clenched. 

You stood there for a few moments, wanting to greet him happily but biting your tongue, knowing that's not what he needed right now. With a soft movement, you sat on the bench, an arm length between you. 

You debated in your head if that had been the best idea, that he probably wanted to be left alone. It's too late to turn back now.

You inched closer, wondering if he noticed your presence. Slowly, you shifted your umbrella, letting its brim cover him. After a few moments he seemed to notice. His ruby eyes softened slightly as they met yours, revealing a flicker of emotion beneath his usual hardened gaze.

Though, he was silent. His irises looking impossibly deep in yours. It felt like he was looking in your soul. Like, he was.... searching. Searching for your angle, why you were showing him grace. 

All he seen was your honest sweet gaze. The kindness in your eyes... They were genuine. It had been so long since he had seen such tender, empathetic eyes directed towards him... He hesitantly met your gaze once again. 

"What are you doing?" 

His voice soft and quiet matching the gentle hum of the rain.

"You weren't at the meeting for our mission this morning, so I took this afternoon off; and found you here."

You had noticed? That alone made Shadow soften ever slightly. His gaze left yours to the rest of the misty central park. 

"I'm sorry."

he murmured, lowering his gaze to his lap as if the weight of the words pained him.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." 

He looked up again, as his eyes found yours once more. His facial features softened gently, his brow less furrowed, his frown less prominent. 

"It's okay to take a break sometimes. I just... I was worried about you."

He froze a little after that statement. The idea that his presence... was missed. 

That look in his sanguine eyes revealing how much that sentence alone meant to him. 

The buzz of a phone interrupted the exchange as you sheepishly took out your phone with murmured apologies. It was Rouge asking where you were, you had forgotten your plans with her. 

"I'm sorry. Rouge is waiting on me and you know how she is."   

You said hurriedly embarrassed as you gathered yourself. 

"Um... where I'm going isn't far, you want my umbrella?"

Kindness in your eyes as you smiled gently offering the umbrella. He looked at you for a lingering moment, then he gently reached for it. Your hands brushed each other softly as he took it from your hand.

For a moment that felt longer than it was, his hand lingered over yours on the umbrella. In the gentle shower you both stood under the cover of the umbrella. You both clung onto this moment preserving it gazes locked. 

Time seemed to slow as your eyes searched his and his prodded yours. He remained silent, his eyes speaking for him. His deep gemstones caught the faint cast of light, showing the vulnerability in them. They wavered between yours. Your presence comforted him. Though silent, his eyes betrayed the truth—he didn't want you to leave.

The buzz of a phone call in your pocket disrupted the eye contact. You both knew who it was. 

"I should go. You have a good afternoon, ok?"  

You spoke apologetically as you pulled your hand away fully giving him the umbrella. 

"See you later."   

 He nodded faintly at your soft tone, as his grip on the umbrella grew tighter. You turned walking down the path, taking the phone call. Your figure growing farther in the misty afternoon. Blurring into the rain. He stood there watching you go, left with his thoughts. 

"Bye (name)."

He murmured, his voice barely audible over the rain, as though speaking to the memory of your presence more than to you. He gazed where you once were, umbrella in hand. 

As he walked home, he held tight to the look in your eyes. The rain continued to fall, but the memory of your warmth lingered. A contrast to the cool misty atmosphere. 

It had been a few days since that late afternoon, you were at your home enjoying a lovely clear morning making some breakfast. There was a gentle knock at your doorstep, as you gazed curiously in that direction. After a few moments you walked to the door opening it, revealing no one there. Your gaze fell and there you saw your umbrella and beside it a vase of red roses and little white flowers. You picked both up bringing them inside. You set the flowers on the counter. 

A soft smile crossed your lips as you traced the delicate petals. The roses, their crimson petals catching the morning sunlight; reminded you of his gaze—vulnerable, yet unyielding. Even in his silence, Shadow's gratitude spoke volumes. You noticed a little card in the middle, and you pulled it out. Opening it gently it simply read;

"Thank you ---Shadow."

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know! Reblogs, comments and likes much appreciated! 💙

[simmplerussiangirl]

Her princess.

part two

Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Synopsis : The only daughter of the Ras family is exchanged with the Medard clan for a peace treaty. Thanks to her pride and the hard core inside her, she doesn't falls into despair and continues to live. She continues to live to take revenge on her family for literally selling her to a clan of enemies.

word count: 2.2k

cw: selfharm, hatred, aggression, death, defiant behavior, Ambressa is a sweet bun.

A/N: I wrote the second part in five thousand words, but decided it would be better to divide it into two anyway. I doubt that people will read such a large amount of text.

Walking down the stairs, I yank my arm out with force. I wish I could say I succeeded with ease, but alas, I didn't. I only succeeded because she let me.

 Ambressa Medard was difficult to be around. She literally pressured you with her status and authority. What to say that any average person would feel like a bug comparing their bodies and accomplishments. Inwardly, I chuckled at the thought that she had put thousands of men into complexes with her mere appearance.

  Here I was, standing in front of her and feeling like a little girl. Even in my high heels I could only reach her nose. So I had to raise my head to look her in the eye.

 But there was a huge problem. She was scanning you like she was reading you. And her gaze was heavy. The kind of look that makes you want to hide or at least put your eyes to the floor to get away from it.

 And I was no exception; I wanted to stop feeling it, badly enough. But my pride choked me. So I stood in front of the girl towering over me, breathing heavily, my eyebrows pulled down to the bridge of my nose.

 I saw a faint smile of approval run across her face, but unfortunately I didn't have time to see it. The girl turned around and walked toward the ship. I followed, still not saying a word.

 It took us about ten minutes to get to the dock, and when we finally stopped, I was overjoyed. My heels were insanely beautiful, but they were uncomfortable. They also made my feet bleed. The last few steps to the ship were the most painful, and I limped along, trying not to lose my face in any way; Ambressa could turn around at any moment. My shoulders were still squared, my head proudly up, and my face calm, as if I were not going into slavery, but on vacation in a neighboring country.

  Ambressa stopped near the stairs to the ship and let me pass through. I only arched an eyebrow in surprise and rolled my eyes.

-Are you afraid I'm going to kill you from behind? - I smirked wickedly.

-No, I just don't want my soldiers looking at your scuffed skirt. - She nodded toward the stairs - The stairs are high, and your dress is already moving in the breeze. But if you want to...-  she took a step toward the stairs, and I just put my hand out in front of her, blocking the way.

 I rolled my eyes again, and started to climb up the stairs, holding the dress on both sides so it wouldn't ride up. Since I was now the first to walk, I could take a little break and squint endlessly, biting my lips and cheeks in pain. The pain in my heart and the pain in my legs, which already had a trickle of blood running down my ankles.

 I climbed up onto the deck, and stepping slightly away from the stairs, turned to face the girl who was also standing on the ship.

- Don't expect me not to make life hell. Don't think I'll die so easily as a slave,” I adjusted my dress and looked into her face.

 Under other circumstances, I would have said her beauty was captivating. Her features were enchanting, mesmerizing, and even somewhat intimidating. The scars did not mar her face, only added to her charm and memorability.

- Who told you that you are my slave? You will not be a slave in my house, nor in my state as a whole.

 The woman turned and pushed me toward some kind of door. I reflexively took a step and nearly hissed at the flaring pain in my legs. Miraculously, I managed to pull myself together in time. But the girl seemed to have noticed something strange, either in my movements or in the sound I made.

- What is it? - She grabbed my chin, but I couldn't break free this time, so I just looked her in the eyes with distaste. - You look like a drowning cat. . They reach out and rescue you while you hiss and bite.

 She let go of my chin and put her palm on my shoulder blades this time, not pushing. She was just laying down to guide me in the direction she wanted me to go.

 We walked in silence for a long time as I ran her phrase “You won't be a slave” through my head. Thoughts were literally boiling in my head. Why am I there then? Does she really think that I would willingly agree to fight under her leadership using my magic? She can't be that naive, can she? No, absolutely not. Then maybe she thinks she can find something to blackmail me with. But I have no weaknesses; after all, I killed my father with my own hands. Only if it's through my country.,,

-Your pretty little head is about to boil. Ask me if you have any questions, child.

 I snorted loudly and rolled my eyes. Is she trying to gain my trust? Does she want to make the right first impression? Why the hell is she talking to me like that? Why worry about me and my condition?

-Whatever you want, sweetheart. - Ambressa stopped in front of some door -Your room for the next few days.

 The woman turned and walked back down the hallway, I watched the muscles of her exposed back roll over as she walked, as she moved further away from me. It was quite a breathtaking sight....

- No one will lock the door until the first time you make a mistake. Oh, and your maid Maria will be assigned to you tonight. Change before she comes; don't scare the poor girl with blood on your dress. There are a couple of outfits in the closet.

- You wouldn't dare lock me in!

 Ambressa never once looked at me, but I bet she smiled. Because she knew she'd do it if she had to.

 After waiting until I was completely alone in the hallway I opened the door and took an unsure step inside. I looked around the room. It wasn't luxurious, but it wasn't horrible either.

 There was a wooden bed pinned to the floor. It was already tucked into fresh linens in scarlet and gold. And near the wall were many different burgundy-colored pillows. By the small porthole was a desk, on which were sheets of paper and a couple of pens. Also in the cabin was an elongated wooden cabinet. When I opened it, I saw dresses of extraordinary beauty. There were three of them, all lavish, in the colors of the Medard clan and richly studded with jewels. The jewels sprawled along the bodice, along the translucent sleeves and hem of the dresses. This jewelry looked very much like splashes of bright scarlet blood.

- So he wants me to be a toy... A piece of jewelry... A trophy... Fuck that. - I laughed, and my laughter echoed off the walls and rang through my quarters.

I was angry. The last few days had been stressful enough as it was. And today was the last straw of my patience. Tears of anger, resentment, and hopelessness rolled down my cheeks.  I threw my dresses into the far corner of the room, threw everything off the table, and exhaled a sigh of relief. I turned to face the door with my eyes closed and breathed heavily, tears still streaming down my cheeks. As I opened my eyes, I saw the maroon pillows with the edge of my gaze and my eyes turned scarlet. Slowly limping, still standing on my heels, I walked over to the bed and used my magic to burn the pillows one by one.

 When I use my magic when my emotions are strong, it turns into a truly breathtaking sight. My eyes take on a blood red hue, my hair seems to lose its gravitational force and dangles quietly in the air. It is something like a strong wind blowing on me, but my hair is not tangled in any way, but goes behind my back, where it swirls up and down in a smooth wave. On my hands at this time you can see the glow, the color depends on the degree of complexity of the spell, as well as on the strength of my emotions.  The color changes from light red to coal black, as my grandmother told me while she was still alive. My glow once turned bright scarlet, and after that I was unconscious for over two weeks. I've never gone further than that, and I can't imagine what I'd have to do to turn my hands black.

 Hearing someone's quick footsteps outside the door, I braided weeds around the door, making a kind of barricade. I couldn't let anyone see the state I was in, and fuck it; some of the warriors probably heard me scream.

-Princess Ros, are you all right? - A man's voice called out, but my plants were untouched.

-Yes,” I hummed and sat down on the bed, finally taking off my shoes. I saw they were drenched in my own blood - Fuck.

 Footsteps were heard behind the wall again, it looked like the warrior had moved away from the door. I leaned back on the bed; arms spread, and stared up at the ceiling, digesting everything that had happened today. A tear rolled down my cheek again, and I lay in the fetal position, grabbed the white pillow I had left, and put it to my mouth and screamed.

 I screamed long and hard, feeling something inside me break. I don't know how long my next scream was stuck in my throat, all the time crammed into one big pile. It might have been ten minutes it might have been three hours. It didn't matter. Even with my voice broken, I wheezed into the pillow until I was completely exhausted.

My heart was beating at an incredibly fast pace, and my throat ached unbearably, as did my head. I finally got out of bed and went to the window. The sun was already setting over the horizon, which meant I'd cried all day.

 I started rummaging through my desk drawers to find something where I could look at my reflection. To my great delight, I found a large gilded mirror in one of them that was studded with red stones. It looked like this clan had plenty of money.

 I looked into my reflection and was horrified. My hair was a mess, my eyes were swollen and red, and so was my nose.

 - Horrible... - I put the mirror back down - And my dress is also bloody.... I look like a ragamuffin....

“A ragamuffin...” - I echoed in my mind.

 A plan instantly formed in my head. I grabbed one of the pens and used it to make a bundle on my head.  With a sigh of encouragement, I wiped the remnants of tears from my cheeks, grabbed the first dress I could find, and began to create.

 I finished when it was well past midnight. Placing the mirror on the table, I stepped away and admired my dress that I had altered to spite Ambressa. I knew it was unimaginably expensive, but it made me feel a little better about what I'd done to it.

I left the corset almost untouched, but I cut off the sleeves, leaving only the wide shoulder straps. I cut the jewels off the fabric and used the vine to attach them to the corset, in the form of blood splatters.

 The most interesting thing I did was with the layers of the skirt. Most of them, of course, I just cut off, and the rest I cut into scraps of different lengths. It looked very beautiful, though quite inappropriate for a girl of my level and status.

 I twirled around the mirror and fixed my hair, which had already been styled by magic. I smiled at my reflection. My mood had lifted after my recent tantrum.

 I was good for letting those emotions out, but I shouldn't cry anymore, it wouldn't help my grief.

 Removing the vine from the door, I walked out into the hallway. There I saw a young boy standing by my door. He didn't react to my appearance.

-Good evening- -I put my hand over my heart and nodded my head slightly, saying hello out of the politeness that had been instilled in me. - Can you tell me where the exit to the deck is?

 The warrior answered me nothing, didn't even look at me. I furrowed my eyebrows and, squaring my shoulders, walked in the direction from which I had come here.

- If you make any movement on the ship, it is your responsibility to alert Mistress Medarda and get her permission.

- I thought you were dumb-I continued to walk quietly down the corridor, feeling the damp boards beneath my bare feet. - I don't owe anyone anything, boy.

I looked over my shoulder and saw him striding in the opposite direction from me. It looked like he was going to report back. Chuckling to myself, I kept walking.

[graceisinthelibrary]

Leaving it like that was a bit mean, so I decided to continue the drabble from yesterday.

You can find the first part here . @avengersome made the request.

The prompt was "I can't find a pulse".

And here comes the second part:

He sneaked out of the house into the backyard, hoping for a moment of peace. Unable to remember a time when he had felt this wrecked, he leaned against the wall and drew in the sweetness of the spring air. Somehow he had done it. Dash was still alive. Weak, but alive. The daft beggar had survived the terrible ordeal of first being run over and then cut open only to be stitched up again.

He was a trooper. Just like her. 

In the house Mrs Hall was now watching over him in the second exam room where he lay by the oven and recovered from the surgery. Convinced she wouldn’t leave the pet’s side for the foreseeable future, he blindly searched for his pipe. The tobacco would sooth his nerves and help him to regain control over the shaking of his hands. What was wrong with him? He called himself an experienced vet, the best in the county, but when it came to his own dog he became a bundle of nerves. The pipe wasn’t in his breast pocket. Damn it. But how could it be when he was wearing a shirt and waistcoat? 

“Bugger it!” He mumbled and rubbed his tired face. 

“Were you looking for this?” Suddenly she was standing next to him and he frowned. She pushed the pipe and the tobacco into his hands. 

“You’ve been reading my mind,” he admitted. She stood so close that he could smell the fading scent of her shampoo and the smell of Dash’s blood on her jacket. To occupy his hands he slowly rolled the intoxicating leaves between his fingers. As always the action helped him to relax and to focus. And it helped him not to think about how close she was and how much he wanted to hold her. In moments like these, diversion was key to pretending that he didn’t see more in her than a good friend. 

While he stared on his meticulously working fingertips, he felt how her body leaned against his. Her head against his shoulder, her hip against his hip. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, placing one hand over his heart. 

“He’s my dog, too.” Was all he replied. Her touch was almost unbearable. He craved the warmth of her hand on his bare skin. 

“Not for the operation,” she countered softly. “For believing.” 

As a man of science, the concept of faith was difficult for him. He preferred the anthem book to a sermon and a book about bacteria to the paternoster. Unlike her, he liked to believe in the things he had control over. 

“I’ve always believed in you,” she said, coming face to face with him. The palms of her hand cupped his face and her sweet breath brushed over his face. He wanted to tell her that her belief in him was as misplaced as her belief in the Almighty himself, but he was too mesmerised by her eyes and the sparkle in them. 

Where did she take this hope from? Her optimism? 

Her kiss was soft and shy, filled with tenderness and he dropped his pipe. The shock about her unexpected pass ran deep and felt like a fever dream. 

“Don’t…” His voice was hoarse. The idea that she kissed him out of gratitude was as painful as the sight of her kissing someone else had been. He didn’t want her to be grateful. He wanted her love. All of it. Everything. The whole package. Nothing else would do. 

“This isn’t a prize,” she said, once again reading his mind. “No reward. It ain’t working like that, you daft creature.” 

Then she kissed him again and his defences melted as her arms snaked around his neck, and her body pressed willingly against his. Unable to resist, he returned her kiss and pushed her against the wall. 

With the kiss she was testing his whole belief system, but after a day like this, he was ready to believe she loved him too. 

[justaragdollysblog]

Sweet Things

a Ragatha x Gummigoo fic!

Hi guys!!!!! i’m trying to get motivated to write more so here we are!! i absolutely adore this ship i think they’re so cute shdhdjdj

———————————————————

Sugary sweet and perfect.

That’s what Ragatha thinks as she sits next to Gummigoo on a bench at the Carnival.

The two are sharing a funnel cake together, and the sun is setting, painting the coded sky oranges and purples.

It had been a few months since Ragatha convinced (read as: begged) Caine to let him stay, and the two were quickly enamored with each other.

Ragatha was just as accommodating as she always was: showing him around, explaining the rules of the world, etc.

But there was something about his charm, and how he seemed to see right past Ragatha’s fake happy act and what she actually was:

A human. A human being in a bleak situation.

Ragatha’s snapped out of her thoughts by the roller coaster passing overhead. “Oh- Sorry, Gummi! I didn’t mean to space out there.”

“You’re alright, sheila. Everything okay?” He asked in a concerned tone. He set aside the plate of sweet food and wrapped his tail around her comfortingly. Ragatha, she found, was a sucker for this.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, the candyesque texture soothing her further. “Yeah, I’m okay. I was just thinking.”

“Penny for your thoughts, darlin.” He wrapped an arm around her. He never thought his limited worldview (widened unintentionally thanks to Pomni) could account for so much love. But it did, and he loved Ragatha more than anything or anyone.

She smiled softly and genuinely. “Just thinking about how we met. When I practically begged Caine to let you stay, and you stayed in my room that night.” She was quickly melting under his touch.

Gummigoo smiled softly at the rag doll in his arms. “What a day that was. I remember when I saw you for the first time, love. I thought I would’ve melted right then and there.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her head, using his alligator-like snout. “And I just fell deeper in love with you. And it’s been a learning curve, even a little difficult at times.”

Ragatha glanced up at him, concern in her eye. “I hope it hasn’t been too rough…”

He simply shook his head. “There’s no other way I’d want to spend my time. I mean that, doll. You’ve done so much for me, and…I love you so, so much.”

Ragatha felt her eye well up with tears of joy. The circus was hardly a place of peace and fulfillment, but as the cool breeze passed through her hair, and the sky was ablaze in a sunset,

it was still nice to have these sweet things.

————————————————————

WOOOOOO FIRST FIC OF 2025

i wanna get more consistent for u guys!!!

reblogs are appreciated!! see you guys next time!!

[regalrain]

.

[astralhope]

- Yuma... Someday, once again, we will... -

Rank 55: Yuma Jet!!

[skeletoninthemelonland]

[sneakystorms]

Kepcobi this kepcobi that. None of you understand them like i do the nature of jacobis damage towards kepler is PARENTAL. He's the character whose family life we get the most detail on and that detail is that he has a disapproving military father he feels he can never be good enough for. Kepler is the surrogate paternal figure who appreciates his skillset and so jacobi offers unquestioning pseudofilial loyalty in return. Any romantic or sexual undertones are one sided and, i am sorry to say, tangled up in the parental angle. The car stakeout fireworks mini episode does undeniably have "you forgot our anniversary" vibes but it ALSO has "taking my surrogate son fishing/baseball throwing like his real father never did" energy!!! That being said i like to believe he was totally checking kepler out that first time in the bar

[deadn30n]

woke up and immediately started daydreaming about my novel

[gudakdalee]

i actually think jinx's ending makes sense... i dont think it was a surprise or unwarranted, esp when the writers set up every warning leading up to it since 2x03

i get that fans are sad to see her go, but story-wise, thematically, character arc-wise, and relationally, it was an ending that just fit. It hurt, but it fit. it punched home her journey/growth, and allowed the sister relationship to grow another layer, that certain bittersweet resolution. And im not saying jinx had to pass in order for us to feel her impact, but I'm saying her decision of sacrifice makes sense for her journey and shows how far she's come.

if we got every fairytale ending we imagine, it would be ooc, and we as viewers wouldn't feel the sacrifice or lessons to the same degree.

[found--family]

am i the only one who sensed some jilted lover vibes from jensen? 

[dirtbra1n]

AA4 SPOILERS/////

that quote you called krisnix is soooo fascinating to me bc, they really had dinner together most days, like that’s a level of commitment we didn’t even see from most of the ppl who phoenix considered important and that whole time on kristoph’s end it was to keep an eye on Phoenix and on phoenix’s end it curiosity bc kristoph voted against him losing his badge and also it was to find out the reason why he lost his badge and kristoph was just this name that kept popping up, and for Phoenix and kristoph it was so many red flags bc kristoph knew phoenix wasn’t the type to let something rest and Phoenix knew there was more to kristoph then at first glance but somewhere along the way it become genuine, but at the same time kristoph still kills shadi after a single convo with phoenix and phoenix still pressed record before even asking kristoph to be his lawyer, it’s Phoenix recording every single one of those convos with kristoph but still (probably) having him meet truck, but it’s kristoph keeping himself at arms length from Phoenix but Phoenix taking it bc he’s never been the type to give up on a person, whether it’s to their doom or his and for better or worse he wouldn’t want anyone else to really see him the way he currently is besides kristoph, now what the hell could that possibly mean?

(that quote I called krisnix)

anon you will never know the extent of the joy I felt seeing this initially and the extent of it I still feel now. but I’d like you to. Thank You For Biting. and for waiting a little over a month Sorry about that. I'm gonna ask you to forgive me if this doesn't make any sense or hold up to scrutiny. the demons have got hold of me and I'm making do

because I get to talk more about krisnix. Ha ha. pulled out all my silly little suppositions to review again I think I was waiting for an opportunity like this. like my hubris is getting me. I recklessly called that quote krisnix and now a little over a month later I'm completely sick about it.

I'm going to reiterate that I'm very sorry if this reads like shit, and I'll apologize just this once that this post got as long as it did. go fish

you ever think about how kristoph's a dog guy. guy who has a dog, guy who brought a photo of his dog into solitary confinement with him. also a caged blue bird which alive or not happened to contribute significantly to the krisnix breakdown of dec. 2023 There are really some very bright minds in krisnix pit. me and you included anon. that's a tangent. I'm sick. I'm drafting this in a terribly disorganized fashion. I'm reading transcripts. I'm getting dizzy.

this fucking room haunts me

vongole, though

a man's best friend, who's known to bite if handled roughly. her name means clams.

I've been doing some web surfing. I can't move in one straight line to save my life so I've been doing some web surfing. kristoph doesn't say what kind of retriever vongole is, which is fine. retrievers are dogs bred to retrieve game, tasked not to break skin, to be gentle, to keep soft mouths. vongole is a retriever who bites (literal) when bitten (metaphorical); a clam that clasps shut.

kristoph's a dog guy and sometimes he's the metaphorical dog. not One straight line to save my life. it's funny that seven years have passed without phoenix meeting vongole. held at arms length but indisputably held. a man's closest friend. besides his dog.

a lot of the time phoenix is the metaphorical dog. putting all tangents aside A lot of the time. phoenix is that metaphorical dog. what is seven years of companionship, eating dinner after dinner together, and being seen at your worst... worth? indulge me: this guy, you pieced together pretty quick, was behind the forged evidence that lost you your badge. this guy, as you saw happen in real time, was the one person on that committee to vote against that "strictest punishment".

this guy, as an indisputable fact, is a big fucking weirdo. you'll need to snare him eventually, for the forged evidence, but--you're kind of in the habit of liking weirdos. is the thing. he sunk your career, he lost you your badge. he's kind of an asshole, also.

he has bought you and trucy dinner more times than you could ever hope to count. there's a curve in your sofa from all the times he's sat in the same spot, wrinkling his nose at greasy takeout boxes and your grape juice breath. he talks to trucy in a voice slightly less haughty--warm, if a gun was held to your head about it--than the one he plays up with you, and she completely eats it up; thinks he's real fun to tease. his eyebrows wrinkle, an almost nothing frown, when she puts on a show with a trick that he can't immediately come to some conclusion about. he'll put on obnoxious rubber gloves to wash your dishes, to protect his manicured nails, as he goes down a dozen rabbit holes trying to reason out what he's missing. you've seen him doing casework. he's seen you delirious and half out of your mind. his mouth, in your experience, is soft.

you're kind of in the habit of liking assholes, too.

neither of these guys can be vulnerable for shit. over the course of seven years, they've seen each other as close to vulnerable as they can get, which isn't very, because this span of time especially--phoenix stubbornly keeping a little girl's head above the water, kristoph, for reasons we will never, ever understand, constantly looking over his shoulder--really doesn't see either of them in a place to get through any skin-flaying conversations about what they want with or from one another.

kristoph really does want control, though. he wants to be in control of things, have a handle on things. and he probably figured out something like immediately that phoenix wright really isn't the sort of guy you go to for that kind of thing. and yet! sunk cost fallacy's a bitch, kristoph! what good does a beautiful bluebird do you if you don't keep it with you on display heavy-handed. I know. don't I know it.

gonna rein myself in a little. because I'm off the deep end and you're posing really interesting ideas. kristoph couldn't rest for seven years because "shadi smith" was unaccounted for, out there somewhere. kristoph couldn't rest for seven years because he was scared for his life. "shadi smith" played a game of poker against the best and got whacked. and then murdered! tough luck!

really it's my curse. that so much of krisnix is personalized person to person, because of real aa5 shaped smoke and mirrors. because it gives me the space, the soapbox, the platform, microphone, and spotlight, to ask, In that trial, of the murder of Shadi Smith, where Kristoph Gavin was supposed to defend Phoenix Wright, what verdict was he looking to see through?

because I'm sick, you see. kristoph had just, finally, gotten rid of the man he spent so long being scared of, just clawed his way to the path out of the woods, and all he had to do was--

Have you ever stood at a crossroad. the decision laid out in front of you's not actually that tough, if you can believe it. even space for you to completely rationalize any attachments away: you get phoenix wright off (haha), you keep your reputation as the best defense in the west (opinions on the name notwithstanding), and you could, as a possibility to consider on occasion, maybe even learn how to have a slightly more-vulnerable-than-usual conversation.

or you could lose.

pretty simple choice to make, right?

and then phoenix goes and fucks it up, of course. dogs get restless with nothing to do. they want to be of use to you, kristoph, did you ever think to fucking ask phoenix for help? you come when called, you let yourself be persuaded, generously, to help keep food on the table. to keep a warm body company, one way or the other. to be some fucked up psychosexual approximation of a friend. but phoenix comes running when called, too, and you haven't once given him the chance.

big fucking stink you're in, kristoph! You didn't just brain a guy with a juice bottle for no reason. Tell me why you did it.

the big question you won't answer. five black psyche locks pulsing with a despair you don't have the tools to register. you said it already: I killed a man named "Smith" with a bottle because I am an evil human being.

what does phoenix hope to get out of this. motive for a murder, then what?

you really get me anon. phoenix never the kind of guy to give up on somebody he loves, up against someone who's finished with even arms length, stubborn as all get-out, and, even to himself, completely unsalvageable. irredeemable. an evil human being who killed a man named "smith" with a bottle.

it's not that phoenix would help kristoph hide a body. he pretty evidently did not do that. and it's not that phoenix would just forgive kristoph for trying to poison a twelve year old girl either. but there were seven full years between the disappearance of zak gramarye and the murder of "shadi smith", and vera misham hadn't been poisoned yet, and phoenix wright is an awfully loyal, terribly stubborn man himself.

I don't really know what the hell the lot of this means to tell you the truth. but I think now as much as ever that phoenix should chase kristoph's chance at life to the death, and I think that regardless of the stopping point on the line of time kristoph's last words to phoenix should be ...Later, then.

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

hotd never fails to disappoint

[gideonisms]

any time I use the feminine pronoun or gendered titles for myself please put the ancillary justice gender filter over it. this is a gender of convenience to fit in with the locals and if I'm being honest I still find it inconvenient and counterintuitive