#I think I’ll step away from this fandom for the time being

[star55]

Bed Chem: The Sexcapades of Caitlyn Kiramman - Chapter One

Title: Bed Chem: The Sexcapades of Caitlyn Kiramman Author: Star Chapter: One/Eighteen Word Count: 5,433/200,000+ Pairing: Cait/Vi Fandom: Arcane (League of Legends) Rating: Explicit Chapter Warnings: alcohol, sex. Summary: After spending almost a decade overseas, Caitlyn returns to Piltover for her third year of university, intent on making some decent friends, and having as much sex as she possibly can.

What she doesn’t expect is the teen genius who lives next door to become her best friend. Or to fall for the hot butch with all of the lickable tattoos.

~*~

Thank you to Violetrashie for the gorgeous cover art that my bestie, K, commissioned for my birthday. I love it so much.

Happy Lesbian Visibility Day! I hope you enjoy these silly lesbians - they mean so much to me!

~*~

Read on AO3

The one good thing about being a newcomer to Piltover Academy is that Caitlyn is able to remain partially anonymous. Of course there were certain people who knew her family name, but for the most part, if she didn’t want people to know who she was, she could just tell them that she came from Ionia and they’d just believe her.

She didn’t have to say that the first twelve years of her life were spent in Piltover, or that she moved to Ionia to attend a boarding school there because no one ever asked that. They just saw her Ionian looks and accepted it at face value that she was a transfer student.

Which is how she wants it. If people knew she held the Kiramman name, they’d treat her differently – they’d look at her differently, and she knows from personal experience that some of them would suddenly be interested in being her friend because she’s rich.

The rich part currently has its perks as she was able to hire movers to move all of her furniture into her townhouse – one that is owned by her parents, and has been in the Kiramman family for generations. They tend to rent it out to one of their patrons who attends the Academy, but since Caitlyn is finishing off her degree in Piltover, her parents said she could move in.

“Be careful with that, it’s an antique,” she says as she directs two movers who aren’t handling her grandmother’s rifle display case with as much care as she thinks they should be.

Her phone trills in her hand and Caitlyn swipes to answer it without really processing who is on the line.

“Are you here yet?” Jayce asks excitedly.

Caitlyn reflexively smiles at his voice. “I’m here,” she says, “I’m just supervising the moving crew. They should be done soon, though.”

“I can’t wait to see you! It’s been too many years since you were here to stay,” he replies.

“It has,” she agrees. “How about you come by in about half an hour, and you can show me around campus?”

“I’ll be there with bells on.”

“Please don’t,” she says, knowing that he might very well literally do that.

Jayce laughs, his voice warm over the line. “I’ll see you soon, Sprout.”

Caitlyn disconnects the call and goes back to watching the movers. She directs them a few more times, and is thankful when they are done. She’ll have to sort unpacking later, but at least the majority of the furniture is where she wants it.

But right now, she wants to see her best friend and catch up on all of the things she’s missed since she saw him last.

Thankfully Jayce was able to visit Ionia often, and she came back to Piltover every now and then for important society functions that her parents insisted she couldn’t miss. That was one perk about living away from Piltover – she didn’t have to attend so many inane functions.

Once Jayce has texted to say that he’s on his way, Caitlyn grabs her handbag and keys, and makes sure that she locks her door behind her. She closes her eyes and just breathes for a moment before walking down the front steps and onto the footpath.

She can see a few people moving into the townhouses on the same lot as her own, and she wonders if she’ll make friends with any of the people moving in.

There’s an older looking Subaru parked in the driveway to her right, and Caitlyn glances over at it. She’s startled when the front door of the townhouse next to hers slams shut. She watches as a stunning woman with pink hair and the biggest biceps Caitlyn has ever seen jogs down the steps and opens the car. She knows she should feel weird for staring but she can’t help it. She’s wearing a white tank top and well-loved dark jeans, and Caitlyn can see her muscles moving even as she leans over into the car, searching for something. She is the hottest woman Caitlyn has ever seen, and it has unfortunately been a while since she’s had sex.

Caitlyn flushes when the other woman looks up and catches her staring. She ducks her head, embarrassed.

“Hey,” a somewhat gentle voice calls out.

Caitlyn glances up to see the woman smiling at her.

“You just move in?”

Caitlyn nods. “Yeah – yes. Just this morning. You?”

“We moved in a couple of days ago.”

The woman shuts the car door and makes her way over to where Caitlyn is just standing at the end of her own driveway. She hasn’t felt this awkward in a long time.

When the woman gets closer, Caitlyn can see she has tattoos that go up her arms and oh shit she can definitely see her hardened nipples through the thin fabric of her tank top. Caitlyn quickly snaps her gaze up to the woman’s face. She tucks a thick textbook under her arm and then extends her free hand in Caitlyn’s direction.

“I’m Vi.”

“Caitlyn,” she replies, shaking Vi’s hand firmly. Vi smirks at her.

“Quite the handshake,” she says.

Caitlyn just gives her a slight shrug of her shoulders. She reaches up and tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Yes, well, first impressions matter.”

“That they do,” Vi agrees. Caitlyn catches Vi checking her out and she can’t help but preen a little at that.

Two things happen at the next moment – the front door to Vi’s house opens and Jayce rounds onto her street, and pulls up to the kerb in his sleek black, two-door Jaguar.

“Vi! Where’s my coding textbook?” a younger looking girl with bright blue hair asks, bounding over. She all but leaps onto Vi’s side, and Vi’s arm automatically slings around the girl’s waist.

“It’s right here,” Vi says, passing it over.

“Thank you!” The girl glances over at Caitlyn. “Hi! I’m Powder. I guess you’re our new neighbour?”

Caitlyn nods. She doesn’t get a chance to say anything before she’s swept off her feet in a massive bear hug from Jayce. He swings her around before setting her on her feet, grinning from ear to ear. He cups her face in his massive hands and gives her the sappiest look. She rolls her eyes at him. He saw her six months ago, she isn’t sure why he’s acting like this.

“Sorry!” he exclaims, turning to face Vi and Powder who are looking at them curiously. “I’m Jayce.” He extends his hand and Caitlyn can see him wince when Vi shakes his hand. He extends his hand to Powder next who just pats the top of it. Caitlyn can see Jayce’s slightly confused look, but he doesn’t say anything.

“We’re just getting introduced,” Powder says, glancing between Caitlyn and Vi. “I’m Powder, Vi’s sister.”

Caitlyn can’t help the slight relief she feels at that sentence. She gives the girl a warm smile.

“We’re about to go out and get coffees, would you like to come?” Caitlyn offers impulsively.

The sisters exchange a look before Vi shakes her head.

“We’d love to, but our brothers will be over soon for dinner, so maybe next time?” Vi replies.

Caitlyn nods. “It was lovely meeting you,” she says, looking between the two women.

“You too,” Powder replies.

“C’mon, Cait,” Jayce says, heading for his car. “I’ve got a whole list of places to show you before we even step foot on campus.”

Caitlyn slides into the passenger seat of his car and glances back at the closing front door of her new next-door neighbours. She bites back a sigh, trying to remind herself that she can’t just jump on the first lesbian she sees. Even if said lesbian could undoubtedly catch her. And pin her against a wall and –

“…favourite coffee shop. Seriously, they do the best things with coffee you’ll ever taste.”

She nods like she’s been paying attention the entire time.

“I still need to get some textbooks,” she says when Jayce stops to take a breath.

“Nerd,” Jayce says, affection lacing his tone. “But fine, we’ll take you to the campus bookstore before the day is over.”

“Thank you,” she replies.

They arrive at Jayce’s favourite coffee shop, and Caitlyn isn’t surprised in the slightest when he’s greeted by name and a big smile from the worker behind the counter. Caitlyn glances between the blonde woman around her own age, likely a student, too, and Jayce. She loves him, but she’s pretty sure he has no idea the effect he has on people.

Like right now, this barista hasn’t even noticed that Caitlyn is also by Jayce’s side, patiently waiting to order a drink. But Jayce with his big smile and even bigger shoulders makes so many people swoon. Somehow in the time she’s been in Ionia, she had forgotten that.

With an amused glance at the two of them, she takes a look around the café, taking in the décor and the few patrons occupying seats. The furniture looks comfortable, which is good, because she assumes that a lot of students would make use of this space, especially around exam time.

Caitlyn glances back at Jayce, who is now leaning on the counter, outright flirting with the barista. She catches the gaze of the other barista who is working the shift and shares a knowing smile.

“What can I get you?” the other barista asks. She’s a white woman with a very cute pixie cut, and deep brown eyes that Caitlyn could easily get lost in.

Caitlyn steps around Jayce and the flirting he’s doing with the blonde girl, and approaches the counter.

“May I just have an iced coffee?” she asks, and then lists her flavour preferences too.

“Anything else with that?”

Caitlyn shakes her head. “No, thank you.” She passes over a twenty and tells the barista to keep the change.

Her drink is made and given to her, and she’s taken a seat all before Jayce is stepping back to place his own order.

“You’re an outrageous flirt, you know,” Caitlyn says as Jayce finally sits across from her.

He shrugs his shoulders. “She’s cute,” he replies.

“Then ask her out on a date,” Caitlyn says pointedly. “Put the girl out of her misery and just ask her.”

“But flirting is half the fun!” he protests.

Caitlyn rolls her eyes. She glances over at the blonde girl who is very obviously staring at them. “She’s into you, you’re into her, just ask her on a date. Don’t be cruel.”

Jayce sighs. “You’re right.”

He gets up and squares his shoulders before making his way back to the counter.

“I didn’t mean now,” she mutters to herself. She takes a sip of her drink and unlocks her phone, figuring she may as well get familiar with her course guide while she’s got the time.

“He comes in here almost every day,” a voice says, interrupting Caitlyn’s thoughts.

She glances up to see the other barista wiping the table next to Caitlyn’s. “Really?” she asks, her gaze flicking over to where Jayce is putting his number into the blonde’s phone.

Pixie cut nods. “Yeah,” she says, “though he doesn’t usually stand there for ten minutes blatantly flirting like that. He must’ve got the courage up today.”

Caitlyn snorts. “He’s just showing off,” she replies, taking another sip of her drink while pixie cut moves to the other table near Caitlyn. “But he’s clearly smitten.”

“That’s one way of looking at it. I’m Summer, by the way,” she says.

Caitlyn smiles at her. “Caitlyn. It’s nice to share this weird experience with you.”

Summer smiles and nods. “The burden of watching our friends awkwardly flirt their way into a date.”

Caitlyn chuckles. “As long as it finally happens.”

The door to the café opens, and Summer gives her one more smile before going back behind the counter to serve the customer. A few moments later, Jayce sits back down in front of Caitlyn and smiles his big, goofy smile at her.

“Well?” she prompts.

“Amber and I are going on a date tomorrow night,” Jayce replies.

“Good,” Caitlyn says. “Now, let’s go, I want to get to the bookstore before it closes.”

Jayce nods and he waves at Amber, and Caitlyn chances a glance at Summer, who gives her a small wave as she leaves. Caitlyn might have to find a way to come back to this café, too, she thinks as she gets back into Jayce’s car.

After he shows her around all of his favourite spots, including the best place to get ice cream, and a bakery that Caitlyn will definitely be frequenting, they finally, finally make it to the bookstore. She notes that they have fifteen minutes before it closes, but she can’t bring herself to be upset at Jayce. He was too excited to share all of the places he loved, and Caitlyn got some good tips on places that she’ll definitely be checking out when she gets more time.

She’s rounding a corner to see if she can locate her last text book when she bumps into someone.

“Oh, sorry!” Caitlyn exclaims as books fall to the floor.

“It’s okay.”

Caitlyn glances up and sees it’s Summer from the café. She can’t help but smile. They both pick up their respective books, and Caitlyn takes a moment to appreciate the way Summer’s arms flex under the weight of the books she’s carrying.

“Psychology?” Caitlyn says, reading the title of the topmost book in Summer’s arms. “Heavy stuff.”

Summer gives her a sheepish smile. “It is, but it’s what I’m passionate about. What about you, what do you have?”

“I’m mostly shopping for my communications courses,” Caitlyn admits. “Everything else has been online, but this professor is strict on the physical book.”

Summer nods. “I’ve had some like that,” she says. “It’s always a shame when we never end up using the books, though.”

They chat for a few minutes before Jayce finds her and gives her a slight smirk.

“They’re closing up,” he says knowingly.

“Oh,” Caitlyn says. They both follow him to the check out and when they step out of the bookstore, Jayce helpfully takes her bag full of books to his car.

“Would you like to go out sometime?” Summer asks.

Caitlyn can’t help but smile. “I’d love that,” she replies. They exchange numbers and Caitlyn slides back into Jayce’s car, feeling like she is definitely going to enjoy these next few months here at Piltover Academy.

When Caitlyn gets home, she tackles as much unpacking as she can. She puts her music on and makes an evening of it. She orders in some dinner, figuring she’ll do some grocery shopping the next day.

As she’s relaxing with her food, her phone pings with a message. She grins when she sees that it’s Summer, and she immediately responds.

Within minutes, Caitlyn has organised herself a date for the next night with Summer. She feels giddy at the thought.

~*~

While a bar isn’t her first choice of a date venue, Caitlyn can’t begrudge Summer’s location of choice. It’s close to eleven o’clock when she arrives, the loud music immediately filling her ears. There’s plenty of other Academy students around; some drinking, some dancing on the dancefloor over the other side of the room, and some playing pool. She surveys the space as she steps into the bar, her gaze trying to find that familiar pixie cut.

She spots Summer waiting at the bar and makes her way over.

“I hope I’m not late,” she says as she approaches Summer.

Summer turns her megawatt smile on Caitlyn. “Not at all. I’m just about to order – what will you have?”

“A cosmopolitan would be lovely,” Caitlyn replies.

A familiar head of pink hair appears before them and Caitlyn feels her gaze travelling over Vi’s bare arms before she can help herself. She’s wearing a similar white tank top like she had on the day before, showing off all of those glorious tattoos and her thick biceps.

“What’ll it be?” Vi asks, leaning over, undoubtedly so she can hear them over the noise.

“Two cosmos,” Summer replies.

Vi nods and then her gaze lands on Caitlyn. “Hey, fancy seeing you here!” she says with a grin. Her hands make quick work of making their drinks.

“I could say the same for you,” Caitlyn replies. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

Vi grins. “I’ve worked here since I was eighteen.” Caitlyn just gives her a small smile and nods.

“Do you two know each other?” Summer asks, glancing between them.

“We’re neighbours,” Vi replies, setting their drinks in front of them a moment later.

“Oh,” Summer says.

Vi rattles off the price and Summer winces a little but Caitlyn hands over her card before Summer can even pull out a single note.

“I’ve got this one,” Caitlyn says as Vi takes her card to ring up their purchases. “You can get the next ones.”

Summer nods, a slight relieved smile on her face. “Do you want to go sit?”

“That would be lovely,” Caitlyn replies. She slides her card back into her clutch and follows Summer through the crowd of people to a thankfully empty booth.

“Who knew this place would be so busy on a Thursday night?” Caitlyn comments, her gaze flitting over the crowd.

“It’s busy every night,” Summer replies. “Is Vi really your neighbour?”

Caitlyn nods. “She lives in the townhouse next to mine,” she says. “Why?”

A look crosses Summer’s face. “She’s just… she’s a bit of a player. Or so I’ve heard.”

Caitlyn takes this information on board as she sips her drink. “Well I only met her just yesterday, so I can’t say I’ve heard those rumours.”

“Oh. Are you not from Piltover? I thought you were because of the accent.”

Caitlyn shrugs. “I was born here, but I spent the last eight years of my life in Ionia. I just moved back to Piltover recently.”

Summer perks up at that. “Why’d you move back?” she asks, sipping on her own drink.

Caitlyn fiddles with her napkin. “There’s a lot of reasons, but mostly I just wanted to try somewhere new.”

Summer nods. She asks several more questions about what it was like in Ionia, and what Caitlyn’s life was like there. She asks so many questions that it makes Caitlyn start to feel a little uncomfortable. So she suggests they dance. They abandon their empty glasses, and Caitlyn leads Summer onto the dancefloor.

The music is louder here, and there are several couples making out around them. She pulls Summer close, intent on not talking and just enjoying her closeness.

As the songs change, their bodies grow closer, and Caitlyn can feel Summer’s warmth all over her. She makes the first move, leaning in just enough so that Summer knows what she’s intending. She’s met with enthusiasm, Summer’s lips pressing into hers.

It isn’t the best kiss Caitlyn has ever experienced, but Summer is eager. They keep moving to the beat of the music, kissing, and dancing and kissing again. Caitlyn’s hand slides ever so slightly up the back of Summer’s shirt.

“I just wanted to tell you something,” Caitlyn starts, her lips close to Summer’s ear. Summer nods. “I’m not looking for anything serious right now. If you want a relationship, I’m not your woman.”

“That’s perfectly okay with me,” Summer says and her lips press against Caitlyn’s once more. She feels the moment things shift between them from just kissing into wanting something more.

“Come on,” Caitlyn says. She takes Summer’s hand in her own and leads her out of the bar. The rush of cool air hits Caitlyn’s face as they step out, making the skin of her arms goosebump.

“My place or yours?” Caitlyn suggests.

“I have housemates…” Summer admits with a sheepish grin.

“Mine it is then,” Caitlyn replies. They flag down a taxi and make the short distance to Caitlyn’s townhouse.

The moment they’re alone in her house, Caitlyn presses Summer up against the closed front door. Summer’s moans fill her ears as they kiss. Her hands move quickly, taking off Caitlyn’s top.

“Wow, your tits are amazing,” Summer says. Caitlyn smirks. She loves her boobs, they’re one of her best features, she thinks.

Unfortunately, Summer is a little too rough with her, and instead of the nipple pinch being pleasurable, it makes Caitlyn wince. But Summer doesn’t seem to notice. Caitlyn reaches for Summer’s own shirt, taking it off in one swift movement.

“Uh, do you have a bed?” Summer asks.

“Yes,” Caitlyn replies. She takes Summer’s hand and leads her upstairs and into her bedroom.

“Whoa your bed is huge,” Summer says with a gasp. Caitlyn glances over at it – she hasn’t ever slept on something smaller, so she wouldn’t know.

“Take off your trousers,” Caitlyn says and Summer gives her a lust-filled stare and quickly complies.

Caitlyn shucks off her own trousers, but leaves her knickers on. She gives Summer an appreciative look as she takes the other woman in. She’s clad in her underwear – a cute matching set in a lilac colour that Caitlyn can’t wait to get her out of. She can see Summer’s dark nipples through the sheer fabric of her bra and Caitlyn finds herself throbbing at the sight. She closes the distance between them once more, guiding Summer back onto the bed.

They shift to get comfortable and Summer’s legs wrap themselves around Caitlyn’s waist, effectively bringing her closer. She dips her head to kiss Summer again, taking it slower this time.

Caitlyn trails kisses down Summer’s neck, nipping playfully. She pauses when she gets to the top of her bra.

“Is there anything you don’t like?” she asks softly. “And anything you’d particularly like me to do?”

Summer shakes her head. “I’m good,” she replies breathily. “I love being eaten out.”

“That I can definitely do,” Caitlyn says. She lowers her head to Summer’s bra covered chest. The lace barely covers her smaller boobs, but her nipples are straining hard against the fabric, and that is something Caitlyn can work with.

Her tongue slides over the rough fabric, wetting Summer’s nipple. Summer arches into her touch, letting out a high-pitched moan. It’s a little distracting, but Caitlyn focuses her attention on Summer’s breast. Her free hand slides under the bra cupping her other breast, her thumb sliding over her hard nipple.

“Let me take this off,” Summer says, panting. She sits up just enough to take it off, throwing it to the floor.

“These too,” Caitlyn says, snapping the elastic of Summer’s knickers where they rest on her ass.

There’s some slightly awkward manoeuvring as they pull Summer’s knickers off. Caitlyn tosses them over her shoulder and smiles down at Summer. She takes off her own bra and throws it onto the floor with the rest of their clothes.

Summer’s hands cup Caitlyn’s breasts, her thumbs sliding roughly against her nipples once more.

“Gentler,” Caitlyn says and Summer gives her a slightly shocked look, but Caitlyn kisses her before she can say anything.

Caitlyn slides her hand between their bodies, cupping Summer’s entire pussy, causing her to whine. She parts Summer’s folds, easily slipping one finger into her wetness. Summer’s body arches off the bed, pressing closer into Caitlyn’s hand.

She circles Summer’s clit as she kisses her way back down Summer’s chest, pausing to gently nip at the side of her breast before shifting down the bed. Summer’s legs fall open even wider, her wet pussy on display right in front of Caitlyn’s face.

It’s been too long since she’s been able to do this, and she doesn’t want to wait any longer. She covers Summer’s pussy with her mouth, drinking in the taste of her. Summer’s moans fill the room and her hand drops onto the back of Caitlyn’s head. Her fingers are a little too tight in Caitlyn’s hair, but she can’t bring herself to care right then. Not when her mouth is working Summer so perfectly.

She has missed this. She loves giving head and feeling someone’s thighs shake because of her touch. Summer is very responsive, which is something Caitlyn loves. She sucks on her clit, tongue flicking over the sensitive nub as she slides two fingers into Summer’s entrance. She moans at the feel of just how wet Summer is.

That is intoxicating to her every single time – knowing that she made someone that wet.

Summer’s moans are loud and high as Caitlyn fucks her. One of her heels digs painfully into Caitlyn’s back where it’s slung over her shoulder. Caitlyn ignores it in favour of focusing on bringing Summer to orgasm.

There’s a moment when Summer’s breath hitches and Caitlyn knows she’s close. Summer’s hand tightens in Caitlyn’s hair and she tugs as she comes, her legs trembling with the force of her orgasm.

Caitlyn slowly licks her clit again, enjoying the trembles from Summer’s body. She slides her fingers out of Summer, wiping them on her sheets. She presses a kiss to Summer’s thigh before shifting up the bed next to her.

“Give me a minute and I’ll return the favour,” Summer says, a blissful smile on her face.

A few seconds later, she falls asleep.

Caitlyn blinks, looking down at her. She sighs to herself and gets up, heading to her bathroom. She washes her hands and brushes her teeth, figuring she may as well kill time while she’s waiting for Summer to wake back up.

When she returns to her bedroom, Summer is curled on her side, facing Caitlyn’s window.

“Summer,” she says softly. She gently shakes the other woman’s shoulder and is surprised when she doesn’t even budge.

This isn’t something Caitlyn likes – sharing a bed with someone. She likes her space. She likes having her bed to herself, and she definitely doesn’t like sharing a bed with what is meant to be a one night stand. She rarely sleeps well when someone else is in her bed, and while she hopes tonight will be different, she won’t be surprised if it isn’t.

With a sigh, Caitlyn plugs her phone in to charge, seeing that it’s almost 2 am. She settles back into her pillows, resigning herself to the fact that she’s going to be sharing her space with Summer until the other woman wakes up.

As she predicted, Caitlyn barely sleeps. She feels the second the bed shifts under Summer’s weight as she wakes up. She rolls over and gives Caitlyn a happy, sleepy smile.

“Good morning,” Summer says, her voice thick with sleep.

Caitlyn gives her a tight-lipped smile. “Good morning.”

“…Did you not sleep well?” Summer asks.

“Not particularly,” she replies, unable to be anything but honest. “I don’t usually let one night stands sleep over.”

“Oh,” Summer says, her voice sounding small.

“Would you like me to call you a taxi?” Caitlyn asks, getting out of bed. She throws on her favourite comfort pyjama pants and a loose shirt. She knows she’s being a bit abrupt with Summer, but she just wants her space back.

“Uh, yeah, that would be great.”

Caitlyn notices that Summer’s tone is a little flat and she unplugs her phone to order a taxi for Summer.

“It’ll be about ten minutes,” Caitlyn says.

“Okay,” Summer says. She’s finally dressed and she gives Caitlyn an expectant look.

“I’ll walk you out,” Caitlyn says.

Summer shoots her an incredulous look and Caitlyn chooses to ignore it. She opens her front door and lets Summer step out first.

“So, this is probably a long shot considering your whole…” Summer gestures to Caitlyn’s face. “But would you like to go out again sometime?”

Caitlyn shakes her head. “Sorry,” she says. “I did say last night that I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

Summer nods. “For what it’s worth, I had a good time.”

Caitlyn gives her a small smile. “I’m glad,” she replies. She bites back a sigh of relief when a taxi pulls up a moment later.

She has no idea what possesses Summer to lean forwards like she’s going to kiss Caitlyn goodbye, but Caitlyn swiftly turns her cheek, and Summer’s lips land with an awkward movement.

“Have a good weekend,” Caitlyn says.

Summer huffs and gets into the taxi, leaving Caitlyn standing there. She turns her back on it once it’s out of sight and runs a hand over her face.

“Well, that was awkward as fuck.”

Caitlyn startles at the voice and she drops her hands to see Vi sitting on the top step leading up to her house. She smirks at Caitlyn, bringing her mug to her lips and taking a drink. She’s still wearing the same outfit from the night before, so Caitlyn figures she must have only got home a short while ago.

“How much of that did you hear?” she asks, hoping she won’t be too embarrassed here.

“Oh, the whole thing,” Vi says. “Like I said: that was awkward as fuck.”

Caitlyn tips her head back and groans frustratedly. She covers her face with her hands again and sighs before running her hands through her hair. She gathers her hair up into a ponytail and quickly secures it in place with the hair tie that is around her wrist.

“May I sit?” Caitlyn asks, gesturing to the empty space next to Vi.

“Be my guest,” Vi says.

Caitlyn closes the distance between them and sits next to Vi. She brings her knees right up to her chest and wraps her arm around her legs.

“I gotta be honest,” Vi starts, “I thought you and that Jayce guy were together.”

She knows her entire face looks revolted at the suggestion but it makes Vi laugh, and Caitlyn decides right then that it’s one of the best sounds in the world.

“Even if I wasn’t a raging lesbian, he’s literally like a brother to me,” she explains.

“Noted, Cupcake.”

“Cupcake?”

“Nice pyjamas,” Vi points out. Caitlyn flushes. “For someone who just said goodbye to a very gorgeous woman, you don’t seem that happy?”

Caitlyn shrugs. “It just wasn’t the best sex I’ve had.”

“Well now I have to know,” Vi says, sounding delightfully intrigued.

With a sigh, Caitlyn presses her face into her knees. “She fell asleep after I ate her out and then wouldn’t even wake up to leave.”

She has no idea what kind of reaction she expects from Vi, but it isn’t laughter. She shoots Vi an incredulous look and Vi just shakes her head.

“I needed that,” she says, setting her mug down behind her.

Caitlyn knows she’s probably pouting, but she can’t help it. She has no idea what could be funny about what she just said.

“I take it you don’t like people staying over?” Vi says. She shifts her body so her back is leaning against the railing. Caitlyn copies her, and their knees bump together, but Vi doesn’t move, so she doesn’t either.

“Not really,” Caitlyn replies. “I was very clear it was just sex, but she fell asleep. I don’t tend to sleep well when other people are there.”

Vi nods. She reaches for her mug again and takes a long sip. “Are you an only child?” she asks.

Caitlyn blinks. “Yes. How did you know?”

The smirk that crosses Vi’s face Caitlyn can only describe as beautiful.

“I have three siblings,” Vi says. “We’ve all shared a bed at one point. You get used to it.”

Caitlyn considers this. She nods and looks down at her hands, tapping one thumb on top of the other. “So, what are you doing out here so early?”

Vi looks down at her phone where it’s resting on the deck. “Well, I got dumped about twenty minutes ago now. So I’m just… here.”

“Oh, Vi, I’m so sorry,” Caitlyn says.

Vi just shrugs. “It was inevitable,” she replies. She sounds sadder than she looks, though, Caitlyn notes. “My girlfriend… well my ex now – Annie – she’s in a band, and they just got signed with some big wig label, and are going on tour. She didn’t want to do long distance, so here I am.”

Caitlyn presses her knee a little more into Vi’s. “That… well that sucks.”

Vi huffs a small laugh and nods. “Yeah, it does,” she replies, sounding a little sad. “It does.”

Silence falls between them and Caitlyn knows this is their longest interaction yet but she can’t help but think she and Vi just formed a connection that she hopes doesn’t break any time soon.

[dexxtrosee]

Safekeeping

Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!reader

Summary: A baby got to the ER thirty minutes ago and hasn't stopped crying since. It's starting to get on everyone's nerves. He is, unfortunately, the one in charge, so it's his problem to deal with.

A/N: Set a few months after the last episode of The Pitt's S1. Mind you, this was supposed to be me testing the waters with the fandom and instead I got dunked, I just can't get this man out of my head. Oh well. Part one, I guess?

There´s a baby crying two rooms away from the one he’s at. 

The baby hasn’t stopped crying in thirty minutes, a world of difference from the case Robby is currently using as a teaching lesson for Santos and Whitaker. He doesn’t need to be a genius in emotional expression to notice she’s bored to death, while Whitaker seems relieved to be away from an immediate life threatening situation for once. He won’t admit it, not even to Dana, but he is using it as both a punishment for her and a break for him. He barely got between her and an abusive mother just a few hours ago before they drew blood. He managed to save Santos from being escorted out in cuffs along with the mother by sheer force of willpower and some favors owed by the cops.

And he won’t say it to her either, but if he were thirty years younger and a tad more stupid, that would have been him. She doesn’t need to know that, though.

“Are you a smoker, miss Rossi?”

The lady, a seventy year old woman who insists on them calling her miss, because she’s “divorced, dammit”, shakes her head and turns to look at her granddaughter. Robby can practically hear her thoughts (Can you believe this boy?) and has to bite back a chuckle. 

“Do you, by any chance, often cook on firewood?”

Miss Rossi shakes her head again, this time with an added eye roll. The baby hasn’t stopped crying. 

Whitaker is starting to play with his hands, glancing nervously at the granddaughter and at Santos. The boredom seems to have eased a bit, now replaced by amusement from seeing the poor boy suffer. Robby doesn’t interfere. 

“Have you done strenuous activity recently?”

At this, the teenage girl sitting by her side perks up, glancing at her grandmother with pursed lips. Robby smiles when Whitaker catches it and latches onto it like a starved animal. 

“Maybe cleaning around the house? Too long walks? Heavy lifting?”

Miss Rossi finally seems to think about it. Santos starts fidgeting where she’s standing, checking her watch. He suppresses a sigh and writes a mental note about mentioning it to her. The baby hasn’t stopped crying. 

“Well, I went with the kids to the park this morning. Had to chase them around when they grabbed the youngest and put her inside the basket of one of the bikes! Can you believe it? Those fuckers.”

They all let out some chuckles and sighs of relief. 

“Are you from Allegheny, miss Rossi?”

She nods, smiling for the first time since they both got here. “Born and raised, boy.”

Robby nods at him, giving him a thumbs up. Santos tries to hide her own smile. 

“Alright, seems you can handle this one.” Robby glares briefly at Santos, and she nods with so much annoyance he shakes his head. “I’ll go check on other cases, call me if anything happens.”

He doesn’t wait to see the answers, just steps out and walks straight to the room with the crying baby. 

Before he enters, he notices Dana standing inside and talking softly to, he assumes, the mother. She has her back to him, shoulders shaking and head hung low. Samira and McKay are bent over a cradle. A hole inside his stomach appears when he notices how anxious they both seem to be. 

“Good morning, I’m doctor Robinavitch. What seems to be the problem here?”

Dana turns, frowning and looking at him like he’s the worst thing to happen to her today. He reels back slightly, tries to peek behind her back. She shakes her head, motions him to fuck off. 

McKay doesn’t move. Samira stands up straight like he just pulled her back string, nervous. “All good, sir. We can handle this one, no worries.”

Robby frowns, bites back the need to tell them all off. “Well, that poor thing hasn’t stopped crying in more than half an hour. Are you sure?”

McKay waves at him from her bent position, shaking her head furiously without actually turning to look at him. 

Without saying anything, he turns to Dana again. She sighs, lets go of the mother’s hands and pushes him out of the room with no explanation. Before she closes back the curtain, he tries and fails to catch a glance at the mother.

“What the fuck is going on?”

He loves Dana, he truly does. Still, sometimes he wishes he could work with someone less hardheaded. He has enough of it in himself.

“She doesn’t want any men near her baby.”

Robby tilts his head, frowns deeper. “Should I call the cops?”

Something inside him burns and itches when Dana shakes her head. “They’re already aware of anything worth reporting.”

Robby nods, clenches his hands. He doesn’t know what to do with himself when the baby lets out a louder cry. “What the hell is wrong then? They haven’t figured it out yet? Should I bring Collins here?”

She’s busy dealing with a broken leg from a teenage boy that got too excited with his skateboard, but the cries are starting to get on everyone’s nerves, he can see it. 

“Maybe you should, yeah.”

“Fuck.”

He turns away, walks to Langdon and grabs him away from the nurse bay. He doesn’t protest, hasn’t since he came back last month. It still weirds Robby out. 

“I need you to finish Collins’ case, she has to help out with a different one.”

“I can do it,” The need for approval drips from his words. It still twists Robby’s chest. He shakes his head, doesn’t explain, pushes him inside and motions Collins out with just a smile to the parents.

“Need you to help in Room Two, I’m sorry.”

She gets it immediately, smiles softly and nods. She’s trying again, Robby knows. Still, he’s tried his best to keep her away from any babies. 

When they go back, Dana steps out and grabs Robby. He lets her lead him to the corner between rooms, crossing his arms. “I’m not going anywhere near the baby unless it’s completely necessary, I know. What now?”

“She wants to talk to you.”

The mother, he guesses. He nods, interlaces his fingers and then unthreads them when he notices how tense he feels from it. 

“Just… be gentle, Robby. She looks six seconds away from throwing up out of stress.”

There are so many things he could say to that. Instead, he just nods. Dana goes inside, doesn’t come out again.

When the mom steps out, the first thing that crosses his mind is “wow, holy shit”.

Then he starts berating himself because, holy fuck, what the hell was that?

You take a few steps closer to him, playing with your fingers, and cleaning a few stray tears away from your face. His hands twitch by his sides.

“Hi.”

Dear God, take him now. Warmth spreads all over his chest when your voice reaches his ears. 

“Hello,” he starts. He has to clear his throat before continuing. “Dana mentioned you wanted to talk to me, I’m doctor Robinavitch. Or Doctor Robby, if you prefer.”

You nod, trying and failing to smile at him. “Nice to meet you. Are you… like, the boss around here?”

He nods, unsure of how you may react. He doesn’t notice any disgust or annoyance, but there’s no positive reaction either. He relaxes his shoulders and makes sure to leave his hands visible. 

“Indeed I am. What can I do for you?”

He has to hold his breath when you raise your head to look at him straight to his eyes. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

“Can you make sure no male nurses or doctors come near her?”

Irrationally, he wants to sit you down and make you spit out any and all information about your baby. Why you seem so scared one second and ready for combat the next, why your eyes are so pretty, why you don’t let him near the babygirl.

Instead, he just nods, asks softly “Is there anything or anyone we should be worried about?” 

You shake your head, give him a satisfied smile that seems to pull the ground from under him. “No, not anymore.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He feels lightheaded, unsure of where he stands. You tilt your head slightly, then jump when Collins comes out. He realizes now that the crying stopped. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but can we have a word?”

Your face falls. It makes him irrationally mad, wants to twist the world around until you’re smiling again. He doesn’t move.

“What’s wrong? Is it serious?”

Collins puts her hand on your hand in an effort to comfort you, shaking her head. He glares at her hand like it personally offended him. “Nothing serious, it seems like she just had an allergic reaction to formula. Could you tell me which one she's taking?”

It’s almost like he vanishes into thin air as soon as there’s something related to the baby anywhere near you. You turn around, back to him while you pull up a picture in your phone and show it to Heather. She nods and smiles, letting you know it’s nothing too bad. He notices your entire body relaxing, and the tips of his ears turn red. 

“So what should I do at home now?”

The anxiety you exude makes him tense, almost angry. He’s bothered by not being able to get an actual look at the situation, relegated to talking to you only and away from what seems to be the center of your universe. He takes a deep breath to try and push out the uncomfortable feeling of uselessness.

“We would like to keep her here, at least for today just to keep an eye on how she reacts with different formulas, and maybe give her some fluids in case she’s dehydrated.” Heather’s voice is tender, gentle in a way he’s not sure he could manage now, not after so many years of hoping it would help and seeing it turn people into aggressive maniacs. 

But you just nod, pocketing your phone before turning back to look at him again and knocking the air out of his lungs. 

He's sure he's earned his year in Hell when faint excitement blooms as he realizes you'll be around for a few hours. He doesn't understand what's happening, why he's acting like a teenage boy with a crush or a fresh student handling his first case with an attractive person. Fuck. Fuck.

“Can you make sure the people from other shifts respect what I ask?”

He’s already mentally preparing his speech for Jack. “Of course. And I’ll see if we can keep you here along with your baby, just to be safe.” 

You beam at him, and once again, he feels like the Earth tilts under him. “Thank you, doctor Robby.”

He notices Dana staring at him from inside the room, grinning.

Oh, he’s absolutely fucked.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

AO3

[starshoyo]

Hi! I think I talk on behalf of all the fandom when I say that I need a second part of that suna!fake boyfriend scenario/fic, just saying

Lots of love uwu

FAKE BOYFRIEND II ★

PAIRING Suna Rintarou x fem! reader

WARNINGS aggressive behavior (from ex)

TAGS suna’s protective asf, your ex is still an ass

IN WHICH your ex waits for you outside of your home, and Suna just happened to be there at the right time

A/N Thank you for the support! Hope you enjoy <3

<- 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

EVER SINCE THAT day, you had a small war within yourself, pondering whether to ask Suna out or not. Well, you were planning to disguise it by telling him you wanted to treat him dinner as thanks. It took you a week before you finally sent him a message.

To your surprise, he replied almost instantly, and you had ended up texting throughout the night. On your first “date”, you were so nervous that it would be awkward between the two of you, especially because you were practically polar opposites.

You found out that Suna was full of surprises, because he had the same interests as you. He liked the same movies you did, and listened to the music you listened to. You found yourselves having deep conversations, and slipping into small talk in repetition just as easily.

Not to mention how much of a gentleman he was. The movements were automatic and subconscious, but they still made your heart pound. He would open doors for you, pull out your chair, and held your purse. When you went to the bathroom, you came back to the bill already paid.

Chivalry wasn’t something you were used to, and it definitely wasn’t something Takeshi cared about.

You learned that Suna was a tattoo artist, who also helped out at Atsumu’s garage once in a while, fixing street race cars. He was the complete opposite as you, who was in college, working part time at a cafe. Still, you clicked instantly.

You lived in a two story apartment complex, and after your nth date with Suna, he walked you home. Takeshi still texted you time to time, so you finally blocked him weeks ago. You hadn’t seen him since, and you definitely didn’t expect to see him today.

Suna grinned down at you as you gave him back his jacket that he lent you. It was now fall, about a month since you’ve first met Suna. The sun had long set under the horizon, and the two of you stood under the star filled skies.

“Thanks for today.” He hummed, a gentle finger placing a strand of hair behind your ear. You found yourself leaning into his warm touch, craving more. “I want to see you again, soon.” You said so softly that you weren’t sure if he even heard.

But he indeed heard it, resisting the urge to lean down and press a firm kiss into your soft hair. So instead, he brushed his thumb against your cheek affectionately. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He smiled, fingers sliding away from your reddening cheek.

“Bye.” You whispered. He watched you as you turned, climbing the steps to your apartment on the second floor. You felt his gaze burning holes into your back, your heart pounding in your ears. When you were finally out of his sight, he turned on his heel, a slight bounce in his step as he walked away.

Your eyes were on the floor as you walked towards your door, biting your lips and trying to contain the silly smile on your face. You giggled at a memory, tips of your ears impossibly redder.

You had only finally noticed that someone was standing in front of your door when their feet came into your sights, and you looked up, surprised.

Surprise quickly turned into fear when you saw the familiar face of Takeshi, who was leaning against the wall next to your door. He raised a brow, kicking off the wall. “Well, finally. I’ve been waiting for an hour, now.” He mumbled, as if he had told you he would be here.

His presence was like cold water being splashed onto the warm embers of your date, snuffing out any giddiness you felt. The smile was wiped off your lips, and when you took a step back, he wasted no time maneuvering his body so he caged you between your door and him.

Your legs shook in fear, but you scowled as you glared up at him. “What are you doing here, Takeshi?” You spat through grit teeth, pressing yourself against your door and trying to get more space between the two of you.

His hands were planted on the sides of your head, expression filled with irritation. “You know what I’m doing here. You blocked me, didn’t you?” He huffed, voice deep and eyes a little crazy.

Your heart was pounding in your ears for a different reason now, balling your hands into fists to stop them from trembling. “I had every right to block you. We’re not dating anymore, Takeshi. Get that through your thick skull.”

You flinched as he punched the space next to your head. Your eyes widened at his outburst, all confidence gone. “No, you listen to me. We are not done until I say we’re done. You didn’t give me time to explain shit, and then went off to open your legs to another man. How dare you?”

There were a thousand things you wanted to say against his berating words, but they were all stuck in your throat, and all you could do was look up at him with eyes that were starting to water. He was being aggressive, and a hint of alcohol was mixed with every breath that fanned your face.

Suna was three minutes into walking home, when he dug his hands into his jacket pockets for warmth and realized you had left your favorite lipstick in one of them. He smiled gently at the cosmetic, a memory of you talking about how much you loved it floating somewhere in the back of his mind.

He turned around, heading back. Maybe it was an excuse to see you one more time before the end of the day.

He walked up the steps, turning the corner to walk down the hall that lead to your door. He stopped in his tracks when he saw another man there.

It was a familiar man, a frame he had seen before. Short, lanky, and most definitely Takeshi. Suna was frozen for a second, registering what was happening in his head. But when he realized that you were crying, and Takeshi was practically barking in your face, his body moved before he could come to a decision.

Suna fisted a hand into Takeshi’s shirt, a violent smack echoing through the night as his fist connected with the latter’s jaw. You gasped, body still pressed against the door, chest heaving.

“I swear, if you ever talk to her like that,” Suna huffed, a growl underlying each breath. He was furious, that was for sure. You weren’t sure if you were terrified of the fact that he had just smacked the shit out of Takeshi, or the fact that there was a small part of you that loved his protectiveness.

“If I ever even see you again, I’ll fucking kill you.” He finished, before taking the keys in your hand. He unlocked the door, hand on your waist and leading you inside. You couldn’t even see if Takeshi got up or not before Suna’s slammed the door behind him, locking it.

It was then that he finally took a breath, facing the door with his back turned to you. There was silence for a couple heart beats, both of you not sure what to say next. What… what just happened?

Suna was the first to speak up. “I’m sorry.”

His words were soft, all the anger inside him flushing out and instead filling with guilt. Your head reeled back in confusion. “You’re sorry?”

He turned around, and it pained you at how disappointed he looked, scrunching his brows. “I didn’t- I shouldn’t have-” He stuttered, the words dying at the tip of his tongue every attempt. You frowned, immediately wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing him down into a tight hug.

He was taken off guard at first, standing as stiff as a board, before finally melting into your touch and returning the embrace. “Thank you for saving me. Again.” You whispered into his skin, sending a chill down his spine.

His strong arms wrapped around your middle, holding you like you were fragile, despite the fact that he had displayed his strength just seconds ago. Unsaid words were exchanged during that hug, heart to heart.

He pulled away, and you almost held him tighter, trying to get him back in your space, when he pressed his lips against yours. It was soft and warm, but sent sparks like fireworks throughout your entire frame.

His hands held the sides of your face now, lips moving in perfect sync. All words that were afraid to be said had been communicated in that short moment, and when you pulled apart, he looked into your eyes with such adoration that you thought you would melt into a puddle in that spot.

“Let me protect you, (Name). Let me be yours.” He said in a hushed tone, thumbs brushing your cheeks gently. You held the hands on your face, nodding furiously, like he had just gifted you the stars. “Be mine, Rin.”

[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 1: Through the Lens of Dreams

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none, reader being distant with the team (more so paige)

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !photographer fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: "Paige Blockers" being a blocker...

Welcome to the chapter 1 of my New full length series called :Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

The assignment came as a surprise. One minute I was doodling in my notebook, bored out of my mind during Professor Gold's lecture, and the next, he was calling on me.

“Y/N, for your final project, how about something a bit more personal? Something that moves you?”

I blinked, trying to process the shift from the lecture’s dull monotony to my name echoing through the classroom. “Uh, like personal?” I asked, my voice hesitant.

“Yes,” Professor Gold said, his tone encouraging. “Think about what inspires you, what makes you feel alive. Your work has always been strong in capturing emotion and detail—why not channel that into something truly meaningful?”

I tilted my head, chewing on his suggestion. What did inspire me? Basketball had always been a big part of my life, from growing up watching UConn Women’s Basketball games with my mom to attending as a fan now. Maybe it wasn’t the worst idea.

“I… guess I could photograph the UConn Women’s team,” I said slowly, unsure if it would land right.

Professor Gold gave a reassuring nod. “Perfect. Use their stories, their passion, their journey. Show us what it means to be part of something bigger.”

A week later, I found myself walking toward the campus arena, my camera slung over my shoulder. It was game day, and I couldn’t help the excitement buzzing beneath my skin. The night’s game against a strong opponent was sure to be intense, and I couldn’t wait to capture it all through my lens.

Coach Geno Auriemma stood near the court, chatting with a few players, and I took a deep breath before stepping up to him.

“Coach Auriemma,” I said, approaching carefully. “I’m Y/N. I’ve been working on a project for Professor Gold, and I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment about using the team as my subject.”

Coach turned, his eyes scanning me before a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Y/N, right? Professor Gold mentioned you.”

I nodded, feeling a little more at ease under his gaze. “I’d love to capture moments from your team—practices, games, everything. I think it would make for a unique perspective.”

“Unique is good,” Coach said thoughtfully. “We’re always looking for new ways to connect with the fans and our supporters. Just make sure you’re capturing the right shots, no distractions for the team.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied quickly. “I’ll stay out of the way, I promise.”

The game was electric. I had never been this close to the court before, my heart racing as I snapped shot after shot. Paige Bueckers stood out, as she always did—smooth, confident, her presence commanding attention. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her.

But then it happened.

Paige leaped for a block, her form graceful and determined. The sound of the ball slamming against her outstretched hand echoed through the arena. In a flash, the ball ricocheted toward me, and before I could even react, it collided with my camera.

The impact sent the camera crashing to the floor, shards of shattered lens scattering across the court.

Time seemed to freeze. My breath hitched as I stared at the mess of broken glass and metal. My favorite camera—ruined.

“Shit,” I whispered, crouching down to survey the damage.

Later that night, after the game had ended and I had made my way back to my dorm, I couldn’t stop thinking about Paige. The collision hadn’t just broken my camera—it had broken something inside me, too.

I knew I couldn’t keep avoiding her, but every time I thought about facing Paige again, I froze.

The next morning, I dragged myself to class, feeling like a walking ghost. It didn’t help that I shared a seat with KK Arnold, Paige’s teammate. KK wasn’t just my classmate—she was also someone who had seen the whole thing unfold.

“Hey, Y/N,” KK greeted with a smile, settling into her seat. “How’s the camera situation? Saw that you got a little too close to Paige’s shot block.”

I winced, my stomach twisting. “Yeah, it wasn’t… great.”

She chuckled softly, but her expression softened when she noticed my downcast eyes. “Look, Paige didn’t mean to—she feels bad about it, I know she does. It was an accident. She wasn’t trying to—”

“I know,” I cut in, forcing a smile. “It’s not her fault. Really.”

KK gave me a skeptical look but didn’t press further. “Just… maybe try not to avoid practice today? You’ve been avoiding the team, right?”

I bit my lip, feeling the weight of her words. Avoiding practice wasn’t helping me, but every time I thought about Paige, the memory of that broken camera flashed in my mind.

“I’ll think about it,” I murmured, turning my attention back to the lecture.

By the afternoon, I found myself back at the arena. The air felt different this time, heavier. The stands were packed, buzzing with energy, but I stayed focused on my camera, careful not to interfere with the team.

As I snapped photos, I caught glimpses of Paige—so effortless, so composed. Each shot of her was different, yet every one seemed to highlight that same magnetic presence she carried on the court.

Then, our eyes met.

It was only for a second, but it felt like the world stopped. Paige’s gaze held mine, soft but uncertain, like she was trying to say something without words.

I quickly looked away, heart thudding in my chest.

Later, after practice had ended and the court was mostly cleared, I lingered in the stands, replaying the moments over and over in my head. Paige’s block, the collision, the shattered camera—it wasn’t just a random accident. It had changed everything.

But as much as I wanted to hold on to the anger, the frustration, I couldn’t deny the pull toward her.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza .... (more to be added)

[slasher-fxcker]

Hihi! I was wondering if you can do billy and stu and just the slashers reacting to their someone being hurt at their job and trying to hide it?

A/N: Okay I was going to do this request for multiple slashers, BUUUUUUT I started writing for Billy and Stu and got carried away. I love them too much

Billy & Stu Reacting to their S/O being injured at work.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of blood, brief mention of killing (but I mean this is the slasher fandom so kinda expected lol)

This blog is 18+, Minors do not interact

GIF by casualwriters

You hadn’t been working at the video store for too long but you loved it, your friend Randy had gotten you the job when they were desperate for staff. It was great for the boys too; Billy and Stu would stop by all the time using the place as their personal hang out much to your managers displeasure.

Every Saturday night the boys would swing by and pick some scary movies to watch together after you finished, unfortunately for them you were going to be stuck doing inventory tonight. As usual Billy wasn’t impressed about having to share your time with anyone other than Stu, “Just blow it off what are they going to do fire you?” you rolled your eyes as you continued getting ready. “Yes Billy, probably.”

Stu got up from his spot in front of the tv to try to pull you back to the couch, “Come on babe, do you really think you should be out at night? Don’t you know there’s a killer on the loose?” You try to supress your chuckle as he raises his eyebrows at you, his usual smirk on his face.

You fake innocence putting on your best fear filled voice, “Oh no, what will I do if Mr. Ghostface comes to get me.” Billy laughs one of his rare genuine laughs before Stu steps closer to you placing his hands on your waist, “I could think of a few things.” Smirking as he notices the way you flush at the suggestion. You lightly smack his chest as he laughs at himself once again before you press a chaste kiss to his lips. You grab your bag, blowing a quick kiss to Billy before heading to the door. “I’ll try to get back in time for movie night, but don’t wait up.”

Inventory was fairly boring, you tried to get it done as quickly as possible while Randy spent most of the night showing you his favourite scenes from various movies. Shoving another handful of popcorn into his mouth he continued his rant, “Come on how can you have lived your whole life without watching this movie? Quick you're gonna miss the best part!”

“Randy unlike you I’m actually trying to get this finished before midnight, now are you going to help me or not?” He sighs before finally getting off his ass and heading towards the storage room, 15 minutes go by and he still isn’t back to help. “I swear to god Randy if you're napping on the kart again I’m going to kill you.” You mutter to yourself as you head to the storage room.

You see Randy sitting on the kart going through a box of movies, you try to get a closer look before he sees you. You noticed the box of X rated movies he was looking at. “Randy you perv!” You didn’t realise you had snuck up on him before he jumped up knocking you into the shelves behind you both. Before you could move a box came off the shelf and fell onto you. Your head immediately pounded “Oh shit, Y/N!” Randy hurries to help you up, moving the various tapes that are scattered around to get you back out into the store, sitting up on the counter Randy starts looking over your head. “Oh shit, you're bleeding. Billy’s going to kill me.” You feel him practically prod at your forehead as you hiss in pain and slap his hand away. He helps you clean up the blood and tells you to go home, “Ill finish up here, it’s the least I can do.” You can see how sincere he is when he apologises. Your only worry is how you're going to explain this to the boys.

You decide to head straight home, hopefully the boys will think you just had to stay too late and will leave you be until tomorrow. That way you would at least have time to clean yourself up and come up with a story.

Looking in the mirror the damage is worse than you thought, the red tint on your forehead of smudged blood, the dried blood in your hairline and the bruising that was already beginning to show around the cut that could definitely not be concealed. You sighed as you wet a cloth in the bathroom sink raising it to your head gently, the pain immediately making you wince at the contact.

You raised your hand to try again when you heard something in your room, you looked out the doorway and saw what you could only assume was the boys sneaking in your window. You panicked and slammed the bathroom door closed locking it behind you. You hear the taller of the two call out to you as he knocks on the bathroom door. When you don’t answer he tries to open the door, “Whys the door locked babe?”

“Sorry Stu, I’m not feeling too well.” You try to sound convincing. This time its Billy that answers, “Come out here and tell us what’s wrong.” “Yeah we will look after you.” Stu giggles as you can clearly hear Billy push him away from the door. You feel bad hiding from them, “No its okay, you should probably go home in case I’m uh infectious or something. Yeah.” Your voice wavers and you know you aren’t convincing anyone.

Stu is quiet for once but you hear the edge in Billy’s voice as he speaks, “Y/N don’t lie to us, get out here.” You know they won’t leave, part of you wonders if it would be dramatic to climb out the window at this point. “Don’t make me break the door down.” You would’ve rolled your eyes but you knew he probably wasn’t kidding.

You slowly unlocked the door before slipping out of the bathroom, still not looking at either of them. You try to hide your face but of course they can see it, Stu is at your side immediately trying to make sure you're okay. He gently inspects the cut careful not to touch it. You try to ignore Billy’s stare but you can feel his eyes on you, looking at him for a second regret fills you when you meet his eyes. Billy might be a murderer but everything he does is so calm and thought out, never out of rage. You wouldn’t know that looking at him now, fists clenched at his side as his eyes narrow at you, gaze shifting between your eyes and the cut on your head.

Stu takes you to sit down on the bed, unsure of how to help you. He might be the most caring person when it comes to you but he’s also kinda hopeless. Billy’s gaze doesn’t leave you as you move around the room. Eventually after what felt like endless silence he walks towards you taking your chin in his hand and turning your face to look at the cut better. “Who did this to you?” Any other time Billy’s over protective tendencies would make you feel secure but seeing him like this, eyes dark and glazed over in anger didn’t bring you any comfort.

“No one did this to me.” He cut you off as his grip tightened slightly, “Don’t fucking lie to me. Who did this to you.” You don’t know what to say, you pull your chin out of his grip and sigh, “I was working with Randy and…” Stu seems to pull you closer protectively as Billy raises his voice again. “Randy did this to you?” Billy hated Randy already for so many reasons but this time Stu is the one to speak up, “That little fucker is going to pay,” he stood up and tried to walk away before you grabbed him, “No! I mean please just stay here with me,” you plead him as you pull him into a hug again, you know just how to stop this big softy from making a stupid decision like trying to kill Randy.

“He’s right. You think he gets to hurt you and get away with this.” Calming Billy down was going to be a harder task, “He didn’t hurt me Billy, we were taking inventory and it was an accident.” He scoffed, “He accidentally sliced your head open.” You walk towards Billy and take his face in your hands making him look at you once again, “It was an accident,” he tries to turn his head away but you bring him back to look at you, “And I’m fine now. I promise.”

You watch him as his eyes flicker from your eyes down to your lips, bringing himself closer to you. You reach up to place a kiss on his lips, slightly surprised when he begins to deepen it. His hands wrap around your waist as he starts walking you backwards towards the bed. You know where this is going and as the back of your knees hit the bed frame you break apart smiling up at him as you think you’ve won this one. He gently pushed you back onto Stu’s lap, the kind look gone from his face as he turns to Stu, “Keep her here til I get back.” Stu only seems to nod and Billy starts walking back towards the window, you suddenly realise what’s happening and frantically try to get out of Stu’s embrace.

“Billy no!” you practically yell at him, stopping him half way out the window, “Please Billy, don’t kill him.” He doesn’t respond as he sends you a bone chilling smirk and disappears out of your room.

[theunsinkableship1]

If You Know You Know

I don’t know how many times I’ll have to say this, it must be tiring for some, but I need to reiterate this CLEARLY to be properly understood:

I WILL NEVER SHIP THEM WITH ANYONE ELSE.

This makes absolutely no sense to me. The only reason I’m here is to support Luke and Nicola as a couple. I’ve never done anything like this before, and I won’t do it again after them. Hopefully, if they become an official couple, I’ll step away because my purpose will be fulfilled.

I joined this fandom because I saw something extraordinary between them, something I’ve never witnessed in my entire life. Their connection felt so unique and undeniable. Other relationships, real or supposed, simply don’t matter to me in this context. I initially believed people supported them because they, too, recognized the magic between them. But clearly, that’s not the case for everyone, which is disappointing.

To me, there’s no point in being part of the Lukola fandom if you don’t genuinely support both of them together. To be clear, I deeply admire and respect both actors, and I support their careers wholeheartedly. But that’s not why I’m here. I’m not here to support two talented actors, I’m here for their LOVE, for that incredible bond they share.

I’ve seen many relationships in my life, but nothing like this. Their dynamic is something rare, something worth rooting for.

To be a true shipper is to stand firm in your belief, to celebrate the connection you see and cherish without hiding behind the guise of "realism" or "pragmatism" to spread negativity. If you don’t believe in the ship, that’s fine, but then, why stay? Why participate only to criticize those who do have faith?

Truly shipping them isn’t about constant doubt or spreading cynicism; it’s about what you see and feel between the two people you root for. For those of us who support Lukola, our belief stems from the extraordinary connection we’ve witnessed between Luke and Nicola. It’s something that doesn’t come along every day.

It’s not about shipping every supposed relationship they might have, that approach dilutes the magic of what we see in them. Even if they confirm that they are indeed in those relationships, will I support those ones? Not really because I’ve seen many of those; if they love it, I like it .Their lives, their choices. Not every relationship needs to be shipped, and that’s okay. If Lukola isn’t your ship, then jump ship. No one is asking you to believe, but also, don’t bring your doubt and negativity into a space meant for those who trust and support this connection.

This space is for believers, for those who see and celebrate something extraordinary. If you can’t see it or choose not to, that’s fine, but don’t pollute the energy of those who do. We’re here for Luke and Nicola together, and our faith in them doesn’t need validation from those who don’t share it. Let us enjoy this space as it’s meant to be a celebration of love, connection, and the beauty of their bond.

It’s not about being delusional or not accepting the facts as reality. It’s about recognizing something profound, something rare that transcends other real or supposed connections. We don’t believe their bond is just platonic, just PR, or just friendship. If you still think that you need actively LISTEN and pay a closer look and EAR at what is publicly available. It goes beyond that. What we see is something that defies the boundaries of ordinary relationships.

This isn’t about diminishing the significance of other relationships they may have; it’s about acknowledging that what Luke and Nicola share is singular, a once in a lifetime kind of connection. It’s not something that can be replicated or overshadowed. It’s more.

This ship isn’t built on superficial observations or wishful thinking, it’s rooted in what they’ve shown us. It’s something you don’t see every day, and certainly not in every connection. It’s about believing in the rarity of what they have and celebrating it for the unique bond it is.

For those of us who believe, this feels more like something bigger, more meaningful, and more enduring than any fleeting moment.

This corner of the internet wasn’t created to be all things to all people, it was built with a clear and intentional purpose: to celebrate, believe in, and support the connection between Luke and Nicola. It’s a space rooted in trust, admiration, and the shared belief that what they have is rare and extraordinary.

If someone finds that they no longer resonate with that purpose, that’s okay. People grow, perspectives shift, and interests change. But the respectful and graceful thing to do is to quietly take your leave. Staying to criticize or sow negativity only detracts from the energy and intention of the space, which is to uplift and celebrate, not to argue or debate.

This community thrives on faith and positivity. It’s for those who still see the magic, who choose to believe, and who want to nurture a space filled with that same belief. If that’s no longer where your heart lies, it’s perfectly fine to move on, do the same if you think that we’re crazy, but let us continue to build on the foundation that brought them here.

"If you know, you know."This phrase perfectly encapsulates what it means to believe in something that isn’t always spelled out but is undeniably felt. Like the kind of connection that doesn’t need an announcement because it’s there, plain as day, for those who see it.

“If you know, you know" speaks to the undeniable energy and chemistry between Luke and Nicola. In their silence, because sometimes, what’s not said speaks louder than words.

For those who know, no explanation is necessary. For those who don’t, no explanation will ever be enough. That’s the beauty of it. Some things are felt, not proven, and if you know, you know.

[fluentmoviequoter]

What I Didn't Know I Had

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!pregnant!wife!reader

Summary: You get shot, and Tim nearly loses something he didn't know he had.

Warnings: angst, r is shot, fluffy comfort and soft Tim at the end

Word Count: 1.7k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“I’ll catch up,” you tell Tim.

He nods once and tunes out Lucy as she walks beside him. The bullpen is crowded because of a busy day in Los Angeles, but you have something more important on your mind.

“Angela, can we talk?” you ask as you approach her desk.

“Of course,” she answers. “Is everything okay? Baby okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re good.” You lay your hand over your not yet existent bump and smile. “I’m ready to tell Tim, but I want to surprise him with the pregnancy announcement. He’s not… conventional, right? So, I just wanted to ask if you had any ideas for how I can tell him, how I can make it special?”

“Not conventional is certainly a good description of Tim Bradford,” Angela agrees playfully. “Honestly, you know better than I do what he’d consider to be special. I think you should tell him sooner rather than later.”

You nod and look over your shoulder toward Tim. He deserves a memorable announcement; it’s his first child and he’s going to be an amazing father, so you want to make sure he knows that.

“Blue and pink target practice,” Angela suggests. “Nothing like a gun range jump scare.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Wade yells your name, and you thank Angela before you return to the crowd of police officers. He says your name again before he adds, “Bradford, Nolan, and Chen, we’ve got a domestic call off Wilshire. Take care of that and get back here. ACH!”

“Anything can happen,” Lucy murmurs. “But it’s never fun.”

“ACHBINF,” Nolan agrees.

“Are you okay?” Tim asks as he falls into step beside you.

“Yeah, I’m good. Love this time of year when we have to send two cops to a call and two cops to protect the others,” you reply.

“Hey, what’s it like being married?” Lucy asks as you enter the garage.

“Depends on the marriage,” Nolan answers. “Why? Are you getting married?”

“Not today,” Lucy answers. “Just curious.”

“Nolan’s right,” Tim agrees. “It depends on the marriage.”

“I love being married,” you tell her. “But it’s nothing to rush into.”

“I just want to meet someone,” Lucy groans. “And you guys are no help.”

“Yeah, I married my partner,” you say, winking at Tim.

“And Nolan’s divorced,” Tim points out.

“Okay!” you announce. “Before this gets worse and turns into a competition of who has or had the better marriage – because it’s me and Tim – we need to go.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lucy agrees. “ACHBINF.”

Tim grunts as he slams the car door, and you smile. As long as that isn’t his response to your pregnancy announcement, you’re amused by his grumpiness.

“There’s nobody here,” Tim says as he looks through a dirty window.

“This is the address. They said they were watching the argument from across the street,” you explain. “So, it’s either a setup or a prank.”

“Bradford!” Nolan calls as he moves out of the yard. “There’s a black SUV moving slowly toward us.”

“Tell dispatch, and get through to Grey,” Tim demands. “Stay down.”

You move with Tim, staying low as you move toward the shop. The black SUV is several houses away, but it only rolls a foot or so before it stops for thirty seconds, then moves again.

“Option 3, someone’s trying to steal a stick shift and can’t drive it,” you joke.

“It’s never that easy,” Tim replies.

“ACHBINF?” you ask.

“Don’t,” Tim murmurs as he watches the car. “We need to make contact before they get close enough to do something.”

“I can go through yards and come up behind them.”

“No, we don’t know what the back looks like. Nolan, where are you and Chen?”

“Behind the shop,” Nolan answers. “On the other side of the street from you.”

“Stay in position,” Tim radios.

A shot fires somewhere nearby, but it echoes so you can’t tell where it originated from.

“The car’s a distraction,” you and Tim say together.

“Backup is two minutes out,” Lucy calls over the radio. “We don’t have time!”

“I’m shooting at the SUV,” Tim tells you. “Cover me.”

You trade places with Tim and press your back to the shop as you cover him. Before you can alert Tim of movement beside the house you were called to, someone fires again. You feel the sting of the bullet against your vest but rise to your knees and return fire. Tim notices your movement and lowers beside you. When the shooter drops his gun and tips back, Tim rushes to him as Lucy and Nolan run to stop the black SUV. You lean back against the shop and run your hand over your uniform. It’s tinted red with blood when you pull it back, and you gently press your fingers against your side. The bullet missed your vest by less than an inch, and your first thought is that the bullet may have gone in sideways.

“No, no, no,” you whisper as you press your hands to your lower stomach.

With the pressure, your bleeding increases with nothing to stop it. Tim rounds the corner of the house with the shooter in handcuffs but pushes him to the ground when he sees you. You’re losing blood quickly, and Tim sees your hands in the wrong place, which immediately concerns him. If you didn’t tell him you were shot and are causing it to bleed more, you must be in shock or hemorrhaging.

“Nolan, get over here!” Tim radios.

He kneels beside you and presses his hands to your side as you try to force a hand under your vest.

“Get me an ambulance!” Tim demands. “Officer down!”

“Tim, I’m pregnant,” you blurt out. “You have to make sure the baby is okay.”

Tim shakes his head and tells you to stay calm. Nolan loads the shooter into the back of his shop and tells Tim the ambulance is approaching.

“Promise you’ll make sure the baby’s okay,” you repeat.

She doesn’t know what she’s talking about, Tim thinks. That thought only increases his worry because you’re losing blood and not making any sense.

“What happened?” the paramedic asks as he approaches your side.

“GSW to her side,” Tim replies.

Your eyes flutter closed as they wrap your side, and you don’t mention ‘the baby’ again. Tim asks the paramedic which hospital you are going to and follows your ambulance in his shop. As he drives, he wonders where the “I’m pregnant” announcement came from. It’s something he wants but hearing it because you were losing blood causes his hands to shake. He reminds himself to focus and control his emotions as he parks and runs into the emergency room entrance.

“Office Bradford?” a doctor asks.

“Yes, sir,” Tim responds as he stands. “How is she?”

“She’s perfectly fine. The bullet was through and through with very little tissue damage, so we cleaned and stitched the wound, and she’ll be free to go after some observation. And the baby is perfectly safe as well, Officer.”

“Baby?” Tim repeats. “She’s pregnant?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I assumed you knew. Yes, sir, she’s about seven weeks pregnant. You can go in if you’d like.”

“Thank you.”

The short walk to your room feels like a marathon, and Tim’s mind races with each step. You should have told Tim; you have a dangerous job, and he needs to know. Tim takes a deep breath before he opens the door and steps into your room.

“You really meant that,” he says.

You look up and tug your bottom lip between your teeth before you release it to speak. “Yeah, I did. I wanted to surprise you, and I was going to do it later today, but… you know.”

“You have to tell me this stuff,” Tim says gently. “I didn’t know. And I- if something had happened, I wouldn’t have known. I’m supposed to keep you safe, but I can’t do that if I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “Surprise?”

Tim rolls his eyes as he takes your hand. He lays your joined hands over your stomach, avoiding your stitches.

“I was terrified,” you whisper. “There wasn’t a way to tell where it went, and if I’d lost-“

Tim shushes you gently and sits on the edge of your bed. He moves a hand to your jaw and brushes his thumb over your cheek.

“I get it. The doctor told me the baby was fine, and it suddenly crashed down on me. That fear that I could’ve lost something I didn’t know I had hit me, even after I knew you were both okay.”

You nod and turn your chin. Tim kisses you softly, and you whisper another apology against his lips.

“What do you need?” he asks.

“A hug, mostly,” you say lightly.

“I was hoping you’d say you were ready to get out of here.”

“Oh, we’re both very ready to get out of here,” you agree.

Tim helps you get comfortable on the couch after you arrive home, and you twirl your wedding ring around your finger. He returns a moment later, and when you pull your knees up to give him room to sit beside you, he huffs. Carefully, he lifts your ankles and lays your legs back in your original, comfortable position. Tim lays with you rather than sitting beside you, and you happily turn into his arm. He drags his fingertips along your spine, over your shoulders, and back down. His other hand lays against your side, and he drops his hand to where your baby is growing.

“You’re getting soft,” you murmur.

“Just for you two. And we both need this,” he replies.

“I have an appointment next week, and I want you to be there.”

“I’ll be right here,” he promises. “Can’t trust you to tell me anything important,” he jokes.

You try to push him away, but Tim grabs your wrists and carefully pulls you with him as he rolls. He barely manages to catch both himself and you as he nearly falls off the couch.

“Surprise?” he asks, repeating your earlier comment.

He kisses you before you can say anything else, and when his hands wander to your stomach, you know that you were right about what a great father he will be.

[kinsey3furry300]

A fanfiction experiment: does not knowing which fandom you are reading make a good twist?

I love fanfiction.

But I also love suddenly discovering new things when reading a book. I like being surprised by shifts in tone, genre or style when reading. And the tagging and filtering systems used on AO3 and fanfiction dot net are so very good at letting you know exactly what you’re getting before you start reading, that it’s almost imposable to get pleasantly surprised like that. It's a great system for avoinding stuff that mught be triggering or just not your jam, or for finding what you like, but I miss the suprise sometimes.

So, as an experiment, I’m going to post the following Poll, and a short fic underneath the “keep reading” with nothing in the tags to let you know which fictional world this is set in. This is fanfic, but you won’t know which fandom until you start reading.

Does working it out in real time what fandom you’re in make for a fun twist?

CW for swearing and one obloquie reference to what might be offscreen sex.

Tagging a bunch of my mutuals that I think are involved in fanworks from several different fandoms to see if they enjoy the twist or if this is dumb. Sorry. Feel free to share for a wider audience.

@rain-droplet @zarohk @myheartisbro-ken @thejakeformerlyknownasprince @moonlight-fox @jewishpangolin @sarifel-corrisafid-ilxhel @abigfuzzybear @sillycourtjester @nazguldivorce @natalieironside @eom-02 @flamingswordofdoom @ghost-avian @thisfuckingdork @nice-is-neat @gaykarstaagforever @noeudspapillons @kabukiaku @bunjywunjy Edit: Also than you to the user who pointed out the rather embarrassing spelling error that both me and my beta missed. Once again the dyslexia is gunning for me.

Unpaved road. Barbed wire fence. Montana cattle country, high summer. Car.

The man in the grey suit stood in the road looking at the open hood of the car, forlorn. He took out his phone for the third time and checked. No signal. His expression did not change at this.

Upon hearing hoofbeats, he stepped over and looked, shielding his eyes from the beating sun with both hands.

“Can I help you?” asked the woman on horseback from the other side of the fence. Early or Mid 20s, black, handsome. Blue jeans, Gillingham shirt, scuffed work boots, straw cowboy hat. Faint California accent.  Rifle slung over back, old military surplus canteen dangling from the pommel of the saddle.

“Umm, yeah.” Said the man. No accent. East coast, maybe. “My rental has died on me. Do you have a phone?”

“No signal.” Said the woman, sliding off the horse and resting one foot on the barbed wire, before vaulting over, one hand on her shoulder to stop the rife swinging. “I keep a satellite phone in my truck, but that’s over the far side of the ranch. Here.” She said, tying the reigns to the fence. “I’ll take a look. What seems to be the problem?”

The man looked nervously from the rifle to the car for a moment. “Honestly? Dammed if I know. Darn thing just died on me. You out hunting?” He asked. The woman snorted.

“No, I don’t approve of hunting for sport, and I don’t eat meat anymore. I carry this for defence. Coyotes, more than people. I’ve got foals in the far paddock, and that attracts predators.”

“So you shoot them?” the man asked, sounding surprised. The woman shook her head.”

“I don’t plan to.” She said, moving to the car and resting the gun against the front bumper. The man moved out of the way and down the road a speck, giving her some room to work. “Usually I go for organic controls, this is just for last ditch emergencies.”

“Organic controls?” said the man, confused. He patted down his pockets, then pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He then took off his suit jacket, a remarkably human gesture in that heat. “What’s that?”

“Oh, coyotes and wolves are territorial. You get a large wolf to mark the edges of your land, and the rest of them generally stay away. Doesn’t work on bears, but bears are more likely to spook a horse foraging than actually hunt one. They need to be run-off, but they generally move when a large stallion charges them. We don’t get many grizzlies here, and the black bears wont normally bother a full grown horse.”

The man snorted. “You have a tame wolf, like, a pet? Just to piss on the fenceposts?” the women laughed. “No, that would be ridiculous. You can order pellets online. Wool soaked in wolf urine, wolf or tiger dung pellets, scares off the Coyotes or Cougars. Fresher is better, but thankfully I know someone at a zoo, they sort me out.” She said, looking over the engine.

“Ah? So this is your land then, I take it?” he said, moving to stand in the road, directly behind her, five paces back. Where she couldn't see.

“Yep. Nearly a thousand hectares, half horse ranch, half re-wilding program, down by the national forest. I’m partnered with fish and game. We’re reintroducing bevers next spiring, and I’m very exited about it.” She said, frowning. It honestly didn’t look like there was anything wrong with the car at all.

“Ah. Nice place. Said the man, putting an unlit cigarette to his lips. “A little hard to find.” He added, lighting up with a smile.

The woman paused. She, and there was no other word for this, twisted. Not like she was moving, but like something had suddenly gone very wrong with her spine, just for a second. Then it was over, and she calmly put one hand on the gun.

The man smiled. “Organic controls, so I see. You know, for a moment I thought I had the wrong person, but when faced with a clear threat, you reached for the gun second.”

“There are snipers.” She said, calmly. “You should know I’m being watched by the government, so if you try any crazy fanboy bullcrap-”

“Private first class Macerson and Lance-corporal Evens, USMC scout snipers, seconded out a military unit that doesn’t officially exist, yes, we knew you’d spotted them. You took the time to wait until they were replaced with the night shift, Cooper and Mackie, and then drove into town and went straight to the same bar they always hit up when they’re off duty. I presume you’d been trailing them for some time? Honestly, just confronting them would have spooked them enough, did you really need to pretend you didn’t know who they were and hook up with Evens? The poor boy is quite stricken with guilt, so I’m told. You didn’t have to twist the knife. They watch you, and we watch them. Something in Latin, ect ect. ” Said the man. He offered the cigarette to the woman, who was now standing there facing him, fists balled by her side, looking furious.

“You’re government.” She said. It was not a question.

“Yes.” Said the man smiling sweetly thought the smoke. Menthol, she noticed.  “But not yours. Although I am here with their permission.” He took a long drag.  “You know, I’m not joking when I said you were hard to find. Honestly? I thought the bird would have been the hardest to contact, but Fish and Game have an entire team dedicated to tracking his movements. I was as close to him as I am to you, if you’re wondering. He was about there” he said, pointing to the road “Pecking at roadkill. Not chatty. Marco now, Marco has a fucking press-agent and to be honest, you can mostly find him by heading to the right nightclubs and aiming for the mirrors, and poor, poor Jake, well… if you have the right security clearance, you can not only find him but make him call you ‘sir’. This spot, this spot now… properly of the radar. I had to pull a lot of strings at the state department to even find out about this place.”

“Good for you. Fuck off. I’m not interested.” She said moving to the fence and untying her horse. “I’m over it, and even if I wasn’t I don’t take kindly to strangers coming over and-”

“We’ve met before.” He said, calmly. “Back in the war.”

She hesitated “I- I don’t recall.”

The man laughed. “Well, I did look quite different then. Hork-Bajir host. You ripped my throat out. Worst thing was, I was already in the Yeerk Peace Movement at the time, just had the bad luck to draw guard duty right before the famed ‘Andalite bandits’ raided. Got off lucky, all things considered: Rachel was crushing heads that day. We need you, Cassie, the peace movement.”

“And? We’re at peace, more or less.”

“More.” The man said, sighing, “Or less. The empire is collapsing, Cassie. You’re out of the loop but I imagine you still follow the news. Balkanizing, infighting, the remnants re-militarizing, and there are some very nasty rumours starting to appear form the far edges of the empire about gods-knows what. Members of the peace movement like myself who spent years working our way up the government to key positions now find there’s hardly a government left anymore, and those of us who made allies in the Andalite and human governments, and those of us who keep in touch with the Notlith community have started to disappear, right here on earth. It… it’s falling apart.”

The young woman sighed. “It always does. What’s it to do with me.”

The man looked upset. “You founded the peace movement, we had hoped-”

“You’re not going to find peace by pulling me, specifically, into another war. What do you want? Spit it out.”

The man narrowed his eyes, took a deep pull on the menthol, glaring at her through smoke, and then continued.

“Some of the Yeerk Nothlit community here on earth have, ah, some regrets about choosing to Nothlit themselves. Their dissatisfaction makes them prime recruiting material for yeerk nationalists who want to re-build the empire, some of them are working with organized crime in Brazil… and there is a rumour that Andalite medics have found a method to cure Nothlit syndrome. Worse, the rumours are true: having looked over their findings from my contacts in the Andalite military, it looks like they are either there, or very close to it. You see the implication?”

She sighed. “Thousands of angry Yeerks who want to re-build the empire running amok in the amazon? Yes I can see the problem. Why is it my problem though? What do you want me to do? Go and make a PR appearance advocating the merits of staying a snake? Wiggle a dead rat around for them so it still looks alive?”

“No. Our initial plan was to just assassinate the Andalite scientists that were working on the cure, oh, don’t give us that look. The Andalite military refused to look the other way, so the best we could manage was to get them to evoke Seerow’s Kindness and not share the cure with us Yeerks.”

“I sense a but coming.”

“But, someone sneaked a copy of the research notes out, via the Skrit Na, and they made their way to earth. The Yeerk Peace movement and the governments of the Unites States and Brazil agreed that on the balance of probability this was a bad thing, and we sent a team into to recover or destroy the data.”

“I’m not doing it. Not getting involved. If some yeerks want to un-Nothlit themselves, that’s their choice.”

"Oh, no… we’ve already destroyed the data, we believe, the mission was a success. That’s not the problem.”

“So what is?”

“The team didn’t make it out.  We need someone morph-capable to go into the amazon on a search and recue-”

“Fuck off.” she said, re-mounting the horse.

The man sighed. “I could have gone to Jake, I have the authority to just order him to do it. I could have tried to leverage Tobias, he has… personal stakes in this, but I think he’s too far gone for this. I could even just appeal to Marco’s ego, or request the Andalite military sends a war-prince and some special forces. This is time sensitive, so do you know why I’m wasting time with you?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me.” She said.

“Jake, the Andalites, the US government, all told me the same thing: it’s not worth it. The probability of getting them out alive is too low. We’d lose more people trying to pull them out than we’d save, plus the collateral casualties… They all looked at the maths, and decided it wasn’t viable. I need someone who doesn’t look at the maths. Someone who cares about the lost lives… someone who will feel bad if this goes wrong, and hold back as a result. We have a Chee contact in place to run intel and support the op, we have a backup team, but what we don’t have is anyone I’d trust to do it right. Someone is killing our people, ma’am. The Nothlit yeerks that refuse to join the New Empire, and no doubt killing a lot of innocent anacondas in the process.  They’re dying. And I need some who is sane, functional, and cares if that stops or not. You’ll be compensated for your time: 2 million, donated to the wildlife charities of your choice, we already know your usual ones-”

“No.” said the woman, wrestling the horse around to leave.

The man pulled out a Dracon beam. The woman cussed and reached for her rifle.

He turned, and quite calmly used the weapon to burn a number onto the nearest fencepost.

“Modulated beam, the latest tech.” he said. “My phone number. I’d try my business card, but I imagine you’d rip it up dramatically. Call anytime.” He said, dropping the hood and climbing into the car. It started first time.

“Why in the hell would I call you?” she yelled.

“Because tonight, when you’re done running around on all fours marking fence-posts or seducing your minders or whatever you do on a weeknight, you’ll wonder just how many people will die if you don’t.” The man said, calmy, driving away. *****

Cassie lay in bed looking at the ceiling for a long time.

“Fuck.” She said, after some time.

There was a noise. Coyotes. You couldn’t blame them, for being killers. It was just what they did.

They didn’t choose to kill others.

She sighed, walked to the window of the ranch-house, and focused for a second, morphing her vocal cords. It took barely ten seconds.

She slid the screen off her open window, stuck her head out, and howled.  The Coyotes got the message, and left.

There. She didn’t have to shoot them, sometimes you could just scare them off, so long as they knew who the top-dog in this neighbourhood was.

Sometime the threat of force worked better than force itself. Sometimes you needed a nuanced touch to your violence, if you wanted to spare lives.

She sighed, and ran her fingers through her short buzzed hair. 

“Shit.” She said, eventually.

Cussing the whole way, she stomped downstairs to the house phone. She did not own a cell phone. No point. This was one of the last spots in the lower 48 with no cell signal of any kind. Every time they tried to build a tower here, an increasingly ludicrous succession of rare birds would be seen trying to nest on the exact spot they had picked. Never a pair, but always a single highly endagered bird trying it’s damnedest to build a nest. Eventually the government had got the fucking hint and intervened with AT&T on her behalf.

Hating herself, she picked up the phone.

He answered on the second ring.

“How many lives?” was all she asked.

“At least eighteen, more if it goes badly. Three morph-capable humans and one morph-capable Hork-Bajir, four yeerks, ten regular humans who just got caught up in this mess.  They’ve been gone 24 hours, so we’re looking at Kandrona starvation soon, if they’re not executed first.

“I… morph capable controllers?!” she said, surprised.

He laughed. “Not every Yeerk on earth took your offer to become a Nothlit, Cassie. The US government captured some portable Kandrona’s during the war. You’re smart, and attuned to social issues: if the US military wanted morphing special forces, did you not think the CIA would want the ability to finally puppet someone after years of Manchurian candidate MK Ultra bullshit? Sadly, some Yeerks just switched one empire for another. Plus, Jake’s toy-soldiers only have so many hours of training per day: if they spend all their time running around with guns and practicing morphing, that’s no time to learn languages or technical data. Four Operatives, each with a Yeerk co-pilot to round-out their skillset. All volunteers from the yeerk peace movement: went in to try and stop the killing of Nothlits and the un-Nothlit-ing the radicals. Captured. Human organized criminals aiding the Yeerk Ultra-nationalists. Voluntary controllers, Narco’s with Dracons and an axe to grind, and a bunch of very pissed-off snakes. Absolutely the worst-case scenario.”

“Fuck. Location?”

“Brazilian-Venezuelan boarder. We have a bug fighter on standby. We can get you to the approximate location to meet your team in…. seventeen minuets.”

She digested this information, drumming her fingers on the phone.

“Is this a trap?” she asked, finally.

“Certainly. But not one I’ve laid, or it would be better fucking organised. They are suspecting we’ll send someone in, they are not suspecting you, or a Chee. That gives us some hope.”

“Okay, and one more thing before I decide: You said you thought you could get Tobais involved, but he was too far gone. Personal stakes, you said. What did you mean by that?"

Pause. Crackling phone static.

“The Morph capable Hork-Bajir is Rak Hamee, Jara and Ket’s son. Younger brother of US congresswoman Toby Hamee, and they are being held hostage by Yeerk nationalists to try and leverage us into giving them the Nothlit cure.”

“Fuck.” Said Cassie. “Land the Bug in the south paddock. I don’t want you spooking the horses.”

[joeloverture]

comeuppance | qz!j.m. x f!reader

masterlist | notifs blog

pairing: qz!joel miller x f!reader summary: [post outbreak] when your recklessness causes an arms deal to go south, joel makes sure you regret it. warnings: (18+ mdni) qz!joel, age gap (late 20s/early 50s), written with hbo!joel in mind but with game!joel lore, guns, mentioned executions, misogynistic names outside (and in!) a sexual context, canon-typical violence as in murder (joel kills a soldier 'on-screen'), reader is a little shit but joel is worse, darkish & dubcon, spanking as a punishment, gunplay, attempted boot humping, degradation, humiliation, one kick to the cunt, mean!joel, orgasm denial [no use of y/n] word count: 2.7k a/n: this is my (admittedly late) submission for @iamasaddie's writing challenge 2.0! my prompt was 'you can't hide forever'. the genre was technically dark but joel himself isn't scarily dark here. thank you so much to aly for, once again, bringing this fandom together with her challenges. it's a steep task but she does a great job every time! and even more thanks to @joelsdagger and @lovesickonmybed for helping me brainstorm! (i have half of a brain without my wonderfully creative friends).

It only takes one deal gone south to fuck everything up.

You know the compass is already ticking that way the moment you and Joel, your longtime smuggling partner, enter the abandoned warehouse. Much like everything else in the Boston QZ, it’s falling apart. The corrugated metal walls are pitted with rust, and old blood is caked all over the floors. In another life, it might’ve been a slaughterhouse, but there’s no real way of knowing. It’s been long enough that any signage has deteriorated. The building’s state of decay, however, isn’t what messes things up.

It’s the singular man that walks in from the opposite side of the atrium.

FEDRA’s favorite executioner. Slitted eyes far apart, thinned out lips, and graying black hair. Rarely seen away from the gallows, only recognizable to you from all of the nightmares you’ve had of his face being the last you see.

If it were drugs, you’d think nothing of it. FEDRA soldiers buy quietly from you all of the time – but they have no need for guns that they don’t already have.

Joel steps forward, merchandise in the duffel bag over his shoulder, none the wiser. A knot ties itself in the base of your throat. You’re too busy trying to figure out what to do, what to do, what to do that you barely even realize that the soldier has a gun aimed right between your eyes until you’re looking right down the barrel.

Your hand jerks to your holster, drawing your pistol in one swipe.

“Drop your fucking gun!” he barks in your direction. It clatters out of your hands. “Don’t you dare fucking move.” Your hands fly up as you take a step back, nearly stumbling into a nearby crate. “Joel Miller and his bitch,” the man sneers. “What a lucky find. You two have quite the bounty on your heads.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Joel says, face completely blank.

“Easy for you to say,” the guard says with a nagging smirk. “Your little cunt here already did. Pretty fucking dumb not to check who you’re selling your merchandise to, huh?”

Joel tenses, ultimately huffing through his nose. “Can we get this over with?”

“I’ll make it easy, Miller. Come with me alive so I get paid, or come with me dead so I still get paid.”

Joel’s fingers twitch behind his back, and after almost three years of working with him, it’s impossible not to pick up on the subtext. Keep him busy. His hand is already reaching for the revolver in his back pocket.

“Turn the other way. I can make this worth your time,” you say. “But you’re lucky if those sons of bitches you work for even offer you half the reward they’ve posted for us. Dragging the bodies from Area 5 to the closest checkpoint… you’d have your work cut out for you.”

“Yeah fucking right,” he spits. “You two have been running around free for too damn long. Causing too much trouble. Not anymo–”

The man’s mouth freezes around the words by the time the bullet soars throat the canvas fabric of Joel’s duffel bag and through the man’s jugular. The soldier’s hands claw for his throat while he gargles on the blood as he begins the descent to the ground. New blood, still pumping directionless from the split artery, joins the old.

Much like him, where he’s slumping against the ground, chest moving until the very end, your hands clutch at your own throat. “We need to go,” you say, knowing the rest of FEDRA will come looking for the firefight at any second now. Joel doesn’t move. “Joel!” You reach out to tug his sleeve, but he doesn’t react. “Jesus– move!”

Joel turns to face you, gun still hanging from his hand. His fingers flex around the grip. “What the hell were you thinkin’, little girl?” You can hear his breathing, amplified from how close he is to you. His once inexpressive face is now red, lips curled, skin tight like a crushed soda can. 

“I– what?”

“Not vettin’ your buyers. First fuckin’ thing I told you all them years ago, wasn’t it? Gotta check so you don’t sell shit to the wrong guy, yeah?” He stalks closer to you – you stumble back.

Not vetting the now dead executioner, whose blood is currently creeping up to the soles of your boots. Your mistake, yes, a potentially catastrophic one that you’ll definitely never make again after this, but he’d been on your ass about finding buyers and after an entire day of burning bodies, the last thing you wanted to do was go asking around about the ‘John’ in search of guns that you’d talked to over the radio tower.

“We’re alive, aren’t we?”

Joel finally jerks his sleeve away from your grip. Your hand falls slack by your side, burning from his fire stoker touch. “And you oughta count your fuckin’ blessings for that. Dumbfuck of a girl, gonna get me killed,” he spits. Spittle flies across your neck. 

You flinch – and not because you’re scared. You’ve never seen him like this before. You hear noise in the distance, the moving of FEDRA trucks, no doubt. “Joel! We can do this later – we need to fucking go–”

“Then you better start running,” he says gruffly.

You don’t need to be told twice.

You sprint out of the atrium, cursing as your bloodied soles carve tracks behind you. A stack of crates blocks the door, which you vault over and shimmy your way through the broken glass panel. The hallway ahead of you is dark, and you have no idea where the fuck you’re going, only that you can’t stop. Each impact of your foot on the ground is like being struck by lightning, carbonating the racing blood pumping through your body. More glass crunches behind you, and a shock of terror pierces you when you hear Joel’s snarls filling the corridor.

There’s a metal cart in your way, which you send whirling in Joel’s direction. He grunts, presumably hitting him in the stomach before it goes clattering on the ground. You make the most of the diversion, hurtling forward and lurching through a cracked door.

Dead fucking end.

An office, by the looks of it. Desks all over the place, leftover tasks still pinned on cork boards from outbreak day, chairs on their sides. You hear Joel huffing and puffing behind you, and fear forks through you. You fall to your hands and knees, crawling underneath the labyrinth of desks and tucking yourself against a wall, carpet-burned hand to your mouth to muffle your breathing. Your chest avalanches with every single breath.

“You ain’t off the hook,” Joel says, voice getting closer with every word. You can hear the thump of his boots against the carpet. See the spread of his shadow roaming across the wall. You squint through the seam of two desks. He's looking over his shoulder when you haul yourself across the room to the next closest desk.

You look around for anything that might get you out of this long enough to slip back out of the door. If you can make it back to the apartment, maybe he can cool off on his own walk back. You reach up for a stapler and take a brief second to peek over a filing cabinet before flinging it against the wall. It snaps open, spilling decades old staples all over the floor.

“Only a clicker’s fallin’ for that,” he tuts at you. His boots land on the floor again, one, two, three steps closer to you. You wince, balling your hands into fists. 

All you can hear is the thrashing of your own heart. You scooch away from the desk – maybe if you throw something small at him, like a pack of sticky notes, it’ll be enough to abduct his attention long enough for you to slip by–

“You can’t hide forever,” Joel goddamn coos at you. You see him bending at the waist, scoping out the undersides of desks, seeking you out–

You crawl out from under the desk and book it to the door.

Stupid. Fucking. Idea.

Joel hauls you back by the belt loop, laughing as you cry out. You try squirming away, kicking at him, but his other arm wraps around your torso. It hits you then that you have no idea what he might do to you. You’ve trusted him with your life before, but what would he do when you risked his? You’d always been too scared to find out. He spins you, slamming you over the desk. You cry out as your chest meets the wood. His hand drags your wrists together, pinning them at the small of your back.

“Let me – the fuck– go!” you yell at him, trying to bend your elbow at the right angle to nail him in the chest.

He tightens his grip so much that you can barely move an inch. “Made your fuckin’ bed, gotta lie in it, sweetheart,” he tuts, shaking his head at you. His hand grazes over your ass, and you stiffen as he looms over you. He is just a man. Your mind spins to the worst-case scenario. No, no, no, no–

“How about an… old-fashioned corporal punishment to set ya straight?” Within the next second, he’s yanking your jeans down your thighs.

Oh. Oh fuck.

“Joel–” you exhale, breath shuddery. “Knock it off–”

“No panties? I was gonna be nice and spank ya over them…” Joel frowns at you. “Poor baby. ‘S gonna sting real bad.”

You snap at him, “What, you want me to go to the local QZ Victoria’s Secret?”

Joel swats, hard, across your asscheek.

You’ve seen how intense Joel’s brute strength can be. You’ve just never been on the receiving end of it. A cry pushes out of your throat, and you hunch over the desk as you struggle helplessly against Joel. Tears spring at your eyes.

Mercifully, Joel runs his calloused palm over the smarting skin. “Shh, shh, shh, shh. ‘S okay, Jus’ gotta teach ya a lesson. Make sure it sticks.” He strokes the nape of your neck as you whimper into the desk.

You tense up in preparation for the second hit, but, if anything, it just makes the impact worse. It prickles your other cheek, leaving your knees shaky. And God help you, your clit twitches. Twitches. Your thighs are already heating up, and you can’t help but squirm in a good way underneath Joel. A single tear slips over your waterline, and you have to tilt your head into the shoulder of your shirt to wipe it off. You don’t want him to see you weak – not that weak.

The next spank makes him grunt from how hard he swings his palm into your backside. “Joel!” you shout, pain nearly splitting you in two. Your feet raise off of the ground as you prop yourself up on the desk, kicking uselessly at his shins. All he does is chuckle at you.

Horror sinks like a cinderblock in your stomach when you realize that your hole, leaking slick, is practically fucking winking at him. You thank the darkness. It’s about the only good thing about this place.

“You don’t like that?” he mock-pouts at you. It’s enough to make you throb. The opposite, you’d say if you could.

A series of spanks follows, but at least these are lighter, and in rapid succession. Still, you jerk with each impact, squirming so that your fingers dance in his grip. “Stupid little girl. Thought you could sell our shit to a FEDRA bitch and get off scot-free? Really thought you could get away from me, huh?”

You try clamming up, desperately attempting to close your legs together. You squeeze your thighs together, relieved at the pressure – and then you hear a resounding click behind you.

You still.

Joel’s gun, still fucking hot from the bullet it’d fired right into the executioner’s throat, traces up the small of your back… all the way to your throat. “Could put one right here,” Joel whispers, more to himself than you. “Show ya what happens to girls that don’t follow orders.” He jams it into your skin, and you hiss at the pain, at the bruise it’s sure to leave. And in spite of it all, you fucking gush. God, you’re fucked up.

He wouldn’t kill you – he needs you more than you need him. But common sense isn’t enough to prevent the thrill, the arousal smiting your body from head to toe.

“I’ll reconsider if ya give it a kiss.” He nudges the barrel carefully against your lips and you stop breathing for a second, maybe two. “Go on. Give it some lovin’. Suck it like a cock. I know you’re good at it. Hear all the guys you bring over.”

You whimper at the thought of Joel listening to you getting your hook ups off – at the thought of him fisting his own cock while he listens. Obediently, you part your lips, slowly, ever so slowly, taking the gun down your throat. It fills your mouth up in such a strange way – all hard edges. It’d be freezing cold if not for the fact that it’s a weapon of death, a scythe in its own way. One press of the trigger, and you’d be just like the guard. You suck even harder at it, eyes rolling back in your skull. Your thighs twitch, stripes of slick running down your thighs. 

Joel reaches between your legs, grabbing at the meat of your inner thigh to spread you open. Instead, he gets a handful of the arousal that’s been pooling between your legs since he first bent you over the desk.

You freeze, pausing your ministrations on the pistol. He himself freezes before he drags his hips over your folds. His finger pads hover over your swollen clit before he properly rubs you once, and then twice. Your hips cant into the closest thing – his hand.

Joel makes a disgusted noise and swats your leaking pussy before shoving you forward and stepping back. You’re panting, properly fucked out even though he’d barely touched you. Cross-eyed, tongue hanging out, face hot. He looks you up and down, brows furrowing with revulsion. “Horny fuckin’ bitch. Creamin’ all over me. That long since you got action that a spankin’ and a gun in your mouth is all it takes to get you riled up? Pathetic.” He shoves the gun back in his pocket, still shining with your saliva.

He wipes your wetness all over your leg, grabs the back of your collar, and drags you to the floor in one foul swoop. You fall on your hands and knees again, ass still stinging from his treatment, lightheaded from how needy you are. Even his brutal treatment makes you whimper. 

You reach for his calf, pulling yourself up to brace your dripping cunt against his boot. You rut against it, not even fully cognizant of your movements as you roll your hips, praying that he lets you have this if nothing else. Your orgasm, wetting his boot thoroughly. Your scent, clinging to him on the walk back to the apartment. You buck into the boot, moaning as the toe bumps against your clit. It might be enough, if you could just do it one more time–

Joel tears his shoe out from underneath you, face pinched with aversion. “No!” you cry, still grabbing for his calf. You fall onto your back, legs spread and panting. Your ass needles from his spanking. The ceiling tiles spin above you. 

The same toe you’d been humping kicks into your cunt, and you yelp, curling in on yourself. Another tear slides down your burning cheek as you reach down to cup your sore pussy. Even that pressure feels like touching a live wire. 

Joel looks down at his shining boot and makes a disgusted noise. “Does humiliatin’ yourself always get ya dicked down?” 

He turns around, already walking away from you without a care in the world. The gun grip pokes out of his pocket, taunting you.

“Pull your goddamn pants up and get a move on. Curfew’s soon.”

[novashelby]

"My Beautiful Toy" -Arthur Shelby x OC

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x Maid!Reader

Warning: CNC(mentions the word rape-rape play), degradation, humiliation, dirty-degrading language, free use, cheating. Implied age Gap, but not an area of focus. Slight daddy kink. Breeding kink.

Word Count: 3,000

Summary: Arthur gets into a fight with Linda and who steps in? No other than his sex hungry maid with nasty-filthy kinks. How else to help a depressed man other than make yourself a free use sex toy?

I must admit, I truly believe this is the best smut I have written in a long time. Hopefully you will enjoy it. Remember, please leave a comment if you read. Likes are kind, but reblogs and comments help fellow fandom creators.

She was hired as a maid by Linda when the house became too much with a baby and Billy. Arthur being the baby, of course. For a few weeks, she spent her time doing the linens and cleaning all the nooks and crannies. At first, he ignored her as if he had tunnel vision. Never so much as a ‘hello’ left his lips. If anyone talked to her, it was typically his younger brother Tommy when he visited. 

Until Mr. and Mrs. Shelby got into a nasty argument. The young maid stayed in her bed quarters, listening in, but also minding herself. It wasn’t until Mrs. Shelby declared rather loudly that she was going to leave and then the front door slammed rather harshly. They were fighting about his obvious flaws; drinking, business, whores. What husband has the need for whores? She had wondered. Perhaps their sex life had taken a dive once Mrs. Shelby had given birth. She waited a few minutes before skipping down the hallway and looking in Billy’s room. As expected, Mrs. Shelby took the child with her. She went on and took a look into the master bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless and in his underwear. His elbows rested on his knees, his fingers combing through his hair. She watched as his cross hung down from his neck, swinging in circles. 

If she could guess, it was most certainly her own family issues that made him seem appealing to her. For the longest time, she assumed her head was as screwed as a nail in wood. Thinking about men like Arthur Shelby while her hand rested between her legs. She leaned on the wooden door frame that had plenty of knicks and scruffs. She assumed from his persistent drinking. The silence was broken by her knocking, “are you alright, Mr. Shelby? I’ll bring you some tea, water, anything you need-”

“No,” he said, a light whisper. “N-no, it’s fine. Go to bed-”

“But it’s my job,” she said. “It’s nonsense.” She pushed from the door frame and crossed over the threshold into his bedroom. She never so much as been alone with him. Never mind wearing nothing, but her nightie, no robe. His eyes slowly fluttered up, watching her body intensely. Arthur Shelby was a man of many weaknesses, including women. Especially so when influenced by his other weakness…alcohol. But she didn’t mind. Because she also had a weakness…the near for carnal validation. She joined him on the bed, and gave him a sympathetic look. Arthur side eyed her, wanting to resist her company, but also he didn’t have the energy to be alone. 

He nodded, swallowing a bit, “you’ve worked here for a while. Hardly know who you are-”

“You’re a busy man, I heard,” she said, staring at him for a long moment before breaking her neutral expression with a smile. Teasingly, she looked away and said, “with whores and rounds at the pub.”

“It’s funny to you-”

“A bit, yeah,” she interrupted, turning to him. His eyes were knitted, face reddening, clearly not happy by her banter. “I don’t understand what a married man needs with a whore. Unless….”

“Are you being smart?” Arthur stood to grab his trousers, looking over his shoulder at her. “Do you not have a job-”

“You won’t allow me to do my job, master,” she quipped, standing and walking over. His body froze as she ever so casually touched his shoulder. Sighing, he dropped his trousers and turned to her, taking a moment to skim over her silhouette. He couldn’t say no, he knew that. It would happen, if that is what she wanted. She repeated her question, “what does a married man need with a whore? Unless his wife has dropped all effort in the bedroom-”

“Watch yourself,” he warned, voice low as she moved in and they were chest to chest. “My wife is still my wife, and most importantly, your boss-”

“I don’t have a boss in this free world,” she said, hands pressed against his chest. Her nail dragged down, leaving lightly reddened streaks until it reached his waistband of his underwear. Her fingers hooked it. “Where work is endless, I am bound by no one. You could fire me right here, right now. It’d change nothing. I could work for another rich family tomorrow and seduce their husband-”

Arthur grabbed her hands and closed his eyes to combat the temptation as he started to bulge. “Go to bed.”

“I will go to bed and you will sleep on it,” she whispered, pulling away. Walking backwards, she watched him with a grin. “All I believe, Mr. Shelby, is that a good woman, whether she be one’s wife or not, always makes herself readily available for him. And I must say…men cheat on their women with me, but my men hardly cheat on me with other women….” As she reached the threshold, she smiled. “I bid you goodnight. I will have breakfast ready for you at eight.”

And with that, she left with a blown kiss in the air and a wink. Arthur stood there, lost in translation as to what just happened. For a split second, he was convinced he had some luck…women constantly at his beck and call. And this? A woman randomly available in his home, but he shook himself of those thoughts, feeling utterly pathetic. Arthur considered how he’d be if he could just be a normal man who could respect family values. Perhaps out of reactive emotions, but he made his way to his bedroom door and slammed it shut before grabbing the neck of the whiskey bottle. 

The next morning, he woke to clink and clatter coming from the kitchen. Climbing down the stairs, he stumbled himself through a hangover to the kitchen. At first he walked through the kitchen, aiming for the coffee. Then, he had to stop and think before looking at her. She’d been wearing the same night slip with no slippers and no robe. Seemingly innocent as she worked at peeling the potatoes. But with her back turned to him, he couldn’t spot the little smirk on her lips. He awarded her the twice-over look before making his way to the table, but couldn’t sit down. His eyes glanced over at her and he sighed to himself in defeat, longing for touch and company beyond a half-filled bottle. 

Arthur took long strides that felt like a long, tempting daze until his hands reached for her hips. Moving in, his chin rested on her shoulder and he whispered, “you said a woman should always be available for a man.” She continued to peel the potato while sinking into him, enjoying the sinful touches he laid upon her body. So soft, but so wrong-a sweetly evil mix that made her insides burn. Arthur closed his eyes and inhaled her scent, rubbing his nose on the inside of her neck and making his way to her ear. “And you like this? I’m not used to this, you understand?” She didn’t answer, playing coy…begging internally for him to just get it. Surely a man of his endeavors would understand what she wanted, right? Silently signaling to him, she perked her ass up on him, rubbing slightly against his hardening bulge. But not too much. He needed to initiate this. Arthur chuckled at her silent response. “And you see, I’m a man used to things falling so easily in my lap that approaching is hardly a problem, but with you,” he paused, his finger tickling down to the hem of her slip. His cold rings tingled at her skin. “In my kitchen. Wearing whatever the fuck this is. Hardly a night gown. Are you aware that I can see the outlines of your body?” While one hand bunched up her slip over her hip, the other pressed on her navel, pushing her harder against his arousal. There was a growing temptation between her legs. Her teeth bit at her bottom lip; anticipation and need welling up within her. It had been so long since she was able to express her darkest desires. But she wanted to be a complete free-use toy for him…. Allow him to initiate it all, to fulfill the desires he lacked with Linda. She finished peeling the first potato and grabbed the second as his right hand released from her stomach and ghosted over her right breast. “And you’d want this? To be of free use to me. No questions asked.”

She gave a sly, teasing shrug. 

“No, no.” He pinched her chin and turned her to look at him. Their eyes connected as his thumb rubbed at her bottom lip. “I need you to answer me.” 

A smirked tugged at the corner of her lips and she put down the potato neither of them would eat. “And if I said no? If I changed my mindset from the last twelve hours-”

“I don’t know if that’d have much of an effect on my decision,” he responded. His voice was low, slow, and taunting. As his words trailed on, his eyes landed on her lips in a trance. “I think your desires for being a sex slave are so deep that you don’t even know the meaning of yes or no-”

“You’d rape me?” she asked, playing into the fantasy. Pretending to be ‘oh, so scared’ of his proposal. That is when his hand held a heavy stronghold on her neck, lightly squeezing. Enough to take some of the air from her lungs, but like a good girl, she didn’t cry. But instead, awarded him with a moan. 

“I may be inclined. Who’d stop me, hm?” She breathed in his words, soaking them up. With each sentence, her brain dumbed for him; how she so easily melted at the degradation he gifted her with. And his hand around her throat was only a cherry on top of ice cream. “You and I are here all alone. And even if my brother were to come here? You think he’d stop me? Do you think you are worth saving?”

“I don’t like being worthy anything-”

“Good.” She was pushed around back into position. Both of her hands rested on the counter and pressed down on her back as he single handedly slipped his cock from his underwear. He’d been hard on and off for the better half of the last twelve hours. She exaggerated a small whimper, but it was met with a slap across her sensitive skin. Her ass burned with a mix of excitement and pain. “Free use is free use.” With a few strokes of his cock, he kicked her legs wider and lined it up at her entrance. “Meaning,” he paused, his hand now free to resume holding her neck while his other hand pulled down her nightie to massage her breasts. “I don’t want to fucking hear you. You’re not to to fucking talk, move, think…you’re to be an unlimited fuck hole for me.” He landed a soft kiss on her temple. “And if you are lucky, I may allow you to cum before I get bored of you…maybe by tomorrow or next week. If you are extra good for me, I may keep you much longer-”

“And if you get me pregnant?” She knew he had little to no intention to pull out. 

Arthur rolled her nipple between his fingers, making sure she felt his pinch through her whole body. “Then it’d be your fault, wouldn’t it? For your body loving my abuse so much it takes my cum.” At least he was kind enough to slowly push forward, his cock sliding within her folds. He allowed himself to let out a long throaty groan, but when she attempted to say a thing, he slipped two fingers in her mouth. His index and middle pressed down on her tongue, and slid far back enough to hit the gag reflex. “Make yourself useful…practice, eh? While daddy’s working, hm?” 

He buried himself deep within her, allowing her walls to adjust comfortably to his size. It was warm and comfortable, wet and tempting. So tight and wanting. While so deep within her, soaking in her tight walls, he contemplated on what could have made her so…nasty. But a good nasty. A nasty that healed the soul. Fuck, she was healing his soul. So good he wanted to show his brothers. Tell them they had to fuck this girl. Fuck her and watch how dumb she gets over cock….But what if she only got dumb over his cock? Linda was too smart for her own fucking good. He could just keep the maid here, making her into exactly what he wanted. A sex slave who thrived on his cum. He slowly moved out, tip bracing itself at the entrance. “What made you so fucked up?” he asked, removing his fingers, string of drool following. “Huh?”

“Never had a daddy teach me how to be good and respect myself,” she answered, chasing his fingers again, sucking them into her mouth. Her tongue swirled needily around his digits, before allowing them to hit the back of her throat. Fighting through the gag, she continually took them deep and seductively. Her fingers curled, nails scraping against the counter as he pulled a nipple. 

“Fuck,” he hissed at her words, slamming himself in until his balls slapped against her clit. The sudden feeling of pleasure made her eyes roll back, but she was so careful about making a sound without his permission. Instead, she sucked harder. Animalistically, he dragged his teeth along her soft flesh before growling lightly in her ear. “Then aren’t we perfect together, hm? I never had a proper daddy to tell me how to treat a woman. Comes into favor for free use sluts like you with no worth, huh?” She bit down lightly on his fingers to stop herself from whining, but her pussy was clenching, pulsating against him at his words. 

He smirked, knowing that his words alone could probably make her cum a flood in his kitchen. He started to rock his hips, groaning as pull slightly out just to push himself back in. Pussy was so tight that everytime he moved back, it almost sucked him back in just to say stay here, you deserve a permanent cockwarm. Her breathing got heavy as the pleasure slowly built and it was getting harder and harder to contain herself. Releasing her nipple, he pushed down on her back to arch her perfectly for him. “Your ass is the perfect view,” he gasped lightly, jutting his hips in a twitch before upping his pace beautifully. The rhythm was perfect; the way he was able to hit her g spot and roll his hips, matching each thrust with a groan. 

Linda never got that nasty. In fact, none of his whores were ever so willing to indulge his deep fantasies. He was going to use this girl until she was well spent and there was nothing left. The thought of her so drunk with his cum nearly sent him over the edge and he had to slow just lightly. “I will cum in you…fill you.” Once he caught his breath, he built up his pace again, matching his gasps and moans to each thrust. So deprived of sex…no, good sex that tangled around every fantasy, it was hard to keep his composure. His thrusts began to get jagged and sloppy as his balls tightened. “And you’ll fucking keep it there, won’t you?” he asked, voice heightened as he took his hand and slapped her ass. “Yea, you’ll keep it there all fucking day until I say otherwise.” He rested his whole body weight against her as his orgasm approached. “Fuck me,” he whispered, getting real close to her ear. “And m-maybe.” He nibbled and kissed her lobe while his hands squeezed her breasts. “Just fucking maybe if I feel ever so inclined, I may just use you all day. Every fuckin’ hour, fill your tight fucking cunt with my cum that you’re hardly even worthy of-”

“Fuck,” she moaned out, unprompted at his words, her rolling back. She slammed her hips back, which almost did him in.

“And maybe you’ll be so fucking full of my hot loads that your stomach bulges-”

“Is that possible?” she asked, feeling his chest heave against her. His orgasm just right at the edge ready to slip over.

“We will have to find out,” he said, cursing under his breath. Of course it wasn’t possible, but the pure filthy fantasy of it was so erotic he wanted to try. He peppered kisses at the corner of her lips, moaning as he found it harder and hard to stay stable. It was a wonder how he could even speak. “And you’ll keep it all in your cunt-”

“And if I drop a little-”

“That is what your pretty tongue is for, right? Gonna lick it right off the fuckin’ floor, eh? Has to go back in you one way or another- fuck!” He closed his eyes, speeding back up as his hands went back down to her hips and gripped, his fingers pressing hard. His orgasm that had been teetering on the edge, slowly fell and his body shook. For warmth, bliss, and stability, he held her close. His teeth bit at her shoulder, muffling a near scream. When it washed over him, he kept them like that, catching his breath and waiting for the clarity to set in. She felt his heartbeat against her back as they relaxed into one another. She tried to wiggle her pussy free of him, but he kept her still. “No. You stay.” She smiled to herself, feeling completely and full as she realized he wasn’t joking about wanting to own her. So, to make sure she was a complete whore for him, she clenched him, making sure to milk every drop. For that, he awarded her with a, “good girl” and a cheek kiss.

[dilly-dahlia]

This is just little request if you don’t mind! The Aphmau fandom is coming back! <3! (MCD) Garroth x Fem reader, where the reader always checks up on Garroth giving him food and water, and chat with him everyday, since he’s the head guard. Garroth always feels appreciated, but he slowly becoming attached to the reader.

Must Be Love

pairing: Garroth x Reader

content: mcd season 1, fluff, kissing, Donna and Logan’s wedding without the Garroth is a Ro’Meave reveal cause that would’ve been a lot for a one shot

summary: There are many things Garroth had experienced in his life. However, meeting and becoming attached to one of the kindest souls he’s ever met was not one of those things.

word count: 4.9k

a/n: i hope i did Garroth justice cause i’ve never written for that guy. like ever not even in middle school when i first hyperfixated and i’m scared i didn’t get him right

masterlist

The first time you showed up at Phoenix Drop’s jailhouse with a basket of food and a smile on your face, Garroth was shocked. No one typically came to the jail—as the word jail itself was enough to take away anyone’s ease, regardless of its vacancy or the the guards being quartered there—unless they were reporting a problem. Even when they did, they certainly never brought food.

The last time something similar happened was back when Molly came by every day to talk with Dale. Before they fell in love. Now that the pair was happily married, no one had been so welcoming to the guard. Because of that previous experience, Garroth’s initial thought had been that you’d taken a similar interest in someone, but he had never seen you before.

Your smile was bright and your eyes were soft. You wore a plain cream dress with a deep blue cloak around your shoulders. Your entire appearance was bare of any fancy embellishments or adornments, but the obvious goodness that seeped from your smile alone was enough to make Garroth think he had just met royalty.

“Garroth.” The head guard hadn’t even noticed the presence of his lord standing beside the woman. “This is Y/n,” Aphmau said once Garroth had peeled his attention from you. “She came in yesterday evening from Borobos.”

That’s why he didn’t recognize you. You were a very new addition to the village’s residents, though Garroth was sure you were just passing through. Even though his face was concealed by the helmet atop his head, he offered you a smile.

“Welcome, Lady Y/n.” He tilted his head forward in a bow and stepped to the side, allowing you and Aphmau to properly enter the jailhouse. “Please, come in. I won’t leave the two of you to stand outside in the cold.”

You thanked him, but Aphmau stayed behind. “I have to get going to Meteli,” she explained, tapping her fingers against the door frame. “I’ll be gone for a couple days, but I trust you to take care of the village.”

Aphmau gave Garroth a kind smile and he nodded. “Of course, my lady. It would be my honor to watch over the village in your absence.”

“Thank you so much. Oh, and Y/n wanted to get shown around a bit. I would do it, but.” Aphmau trailed off, vaguely motioning to herself and the direction of the ocean. “You know. I told her you’d be able to, but if you aren’t up for it then don’t feel obligated! I was just saying-“

“Nonsense, Lady Aphmau.” Garroth shook his head. “I can show her around.”

Aphmau exhaled in relief, pressing the palms of her hands together and bowing. “You’re an angel sent by Irene, I swear. Okay, well I have to get going. I’ll see you later.”

She gave Garroth one more smile before she was off. Garroth stayed at the door, watching her walk down the path until she passed a corner and he couldn’t see her.

Garroth turned and shut the door behind him. He found that you had already seated yourself across from Zenix and that you had already started a conversation with him. He also found that the basket you’d brought in had been opened and that Zenix had already helped himself to what looked to be a slice of sweet bread.

“Was the breakfast this morning not enough?” Garroth asked, the teasing smile on his face evident by his tone. He stepped closer to the table, crossing his arms and peering at Zenix through his helmet.

Zenix held a hand out defensively, his mouth full of the pastry. “She offered! And not to be rude, Sir Garroth, but this is infinitely better than the toast and eggs we have every morning.”

You laughed at Zenix’s jest, and Garroth turned his gaze to you. You seemed comfortable in this environment, which was a far cry from the way nearly everyone else felt when they found themselves in the jailhouse.

“I just thought I’d bring you guys food,” you said once your laughter had died. “In Borobos, the guardsmen aren’t very respected. It seems very different here from what Lady Aphmau told me, but I figured it would still be a nice thing to do.”

Garroth hummed. “Well we thank you. We are very grateful, although you really didn’t need to go out of your way for that.”

“We wouldn’t mind if you kept going out of your way for it, though,” Zenix cut in. Garroth reached over and smacked the boy’s shoulder in response.

You laughed again. “It’s alright. I really don’t mind. I actually really enjoy baking and cooking, so doing this isn’t a big deal.”

Garroth nodded. “We are thankful regardless. Now, since I’m sure he hasn’t introduced himself yet,”—Garroth placed a hand on Zenix’s shoulder—“this is Zenix. He’s my personal apprentice and soon to be second in command.”

Zenix offered a mock salute before stuffing the rest of the sweet bread in his hand into his mouth. He was quick to chew and swallow it, though his voice came out slightly hoarse when he talked. “A pleasure to meet you.”

You smiled. “And you as well. I’m Y/n.”

“Aphmau told me you wanted to see the village?” Garroth asked. You nodded, turning to meet his gaze. “I’ll show you around once you’re ready.”

“Thank you. Though, you aren’t going to eat anything?”

“Garroth’s a weirdo and doesn’t eat in front of people. Ever.” As if to avoid any scolding the head guard might have given him, Zenix jumped up from his seat and bounded toward the door. “I’m off on patrol!”

Garroth watched Zenix bound out the door and let out a heavy sigh once the boy was gone. “I apologize. He’s very . . . Energetic.”

“It’s alright,” you said, letting out an amused breath. “It’s a relief to me. Most everyone in Borobos was so uptight.”

Garroth hummed, eyeing the open basket on the table. “I don’t mean to come off as rude by not taking anything.”

You shook your head. “No, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you already ate. Besides, I feel like it would be weirder for me to force you to eat something I made.”

“I suppose it would be.” You stood from your seat, reaching to close the basket before readjusting your cloak over your shoulders. “Are you ready, then?”

You nodded with a hum. “Yes, I am.”

Garroth led you out the door. He walked by your side as he led you around the small village of Phoenix Drop. He introduced you to any villager you came across and spent the better half of the morning chatting with you and exchanging stories about yourselves.

For the first time in a long time, Garroth felt completely at ease.

—

Okay, Garroth thought to himself after he had walked you back to Donna’s brothel. That’s where you were staying for the time being. You bringing food to the jailhouse was simply a formality. A ‘thank you for welcoming me’ of sorts.

That’s what Garroth thought. That thought was dismissed, however, when you showed up the next morning with another basket of sweets. And again the morning after that. And the next and the next and . . .

Surely you must have taken a romantic interest in someone. Garroth had no clue who, as Brain was too young for you and you seemed to treat Zenix as a younger brother. Your interactions with Garroth were nothing but polite and he feared you didn’t find yourself to be comfortable around him, so it couldn’t have been him.

But then who? Garroth entertained for a moment that you might be after Laurance when the Head Guard of Meteli visited Phoenix Drop, but you hadn’t known him before that.

You must have just been a good soul, then. Similar to his Lady Aphmau but with less capability to change the world. After a while, Garroth confirmed that fact for himself when he noticed you volunteering to care for Levin while Aphmau was gone and help in any way you could to fix up the village.

It was refreshing to him that there were good people in the world. He’d seen the worst manipulative, conniving con men in O’Khasis. He grew up around them. He’d devised a plan to fake his death using the tactics they did. A false identity, a bit of magic and tricks. He even found himself thinking like them, occasionally, no matter how hard he tried erasing that part of himself.

In your company, though, he didn’t think he was all that bad. During the daily morning talks he figured that if someone as good, someone as kind as you could stand someone like him—if someone like him could make you smile and laugh the way you did—he must not have been so bad.

Despite the promise he had made to himself so long ago when he faked his death, Garroth found himself growing attached to you. More so than usual. He found himself growing attached to you in an odd way he had never experienced. It was different than how he cared for Zenix before he ran off. It was different than the unwavering loyalty he held for Lady Aphmau and his village. His attachment to you was . . . warm. It was something he chose, whether involuntarily or not, to hold. It couldn’t be boiled down to an obligation of duty like his relationship with Zenix or Aphmau or the village. He liked you.

Well, that was odd. Garroth had never liked anyone before.

What does one do in that situation?

—

The air was crisp. It felt fresh and clean despite the parasite that had found itself in Phoenix Drop to officiate a wedding. Zane Ro’Meave—High Priest of O’Khasis. The second son of O’Khasis, his predecessor being Gareth Ro’Meave. As it stood, Zane was set to inherit lordship when Garte died, since Gareth hadn’t been seen in five years. That, and Gareth’s body had been found drowned in the river surrounding the city years ago. Gareth Ro’Meave was dead as far as anyone knew.

Garroth stayed away from the High Priest as much as possible. He didn’t want to risk being recognized, but . . . Well, if he wanted to attend the wedding he couldn’t wear his helm. Without that, there was no doubt that he would be recognized. Garroth was the spitting image of his father.

He would figure it out. He would watch the merchant and his lover wed from afar if he had to. Even if it meant he couldn’t sit with you. Or talk to you. Or . . . do anything with you for the day.

He was thankful that you still visited the guard despite the business of everyone else. Garroth had opted to stay in his room on the jailhouse’s second floor for the day. It would be easier that way.

He was even more grateful that he was the only guard still in the jailhouse.

“I can’t believe Donna and Logan are getting married,” you said. You sat beside him on his bed, fidgeting with a necklace around your neck. One Garroth had gotten you (although he told you it was from the entire Phoenix Drop guard, as a thank you for always providing them with food and caring for them). “I remember when they first met. Irene, time really does fly, doesn’t it?”

Garroth agreed. Time really did go by quickly. It had been over five years since he’d last seen Zane. Over five years since he was Gareth Ro’Meave, golden heir of the O’Khasian throne. That fact struck him when he finally saw his brother, who was taller than he had been. Zane wasn’t quite as tall as Garroth, but he was getting there.

“It’s been a while since you came to Phoenix Drop,” he said, turning to face you. He still wore his helmet (he’d never let you see him without it) and you couldn’t see his face, but some part of you could imagine the soft smile that graced his features.

You nodded. “It has. I plan to stay here much longer, as well.”

When you smiled at him, Garroth swore the sun rays brightened and the birds started singing.

After a moment, you said, “So I won’t see you at the wedding tonight?”

Regretfully, Garroth shook his head. “No, you won’t. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. If I’m being honest, the High Priest is being hypocritical about you not being able to wear your armor. I mean, his guards can but you can’t because then it’ll be considered a rich wedding?” You rolled your eyes, resting your weight against your arm. “I think it’s stupid.”

Garroth chuckled. He’d never heard you say anything remotely negative about anyone. “You’re not fond of the High Priest?”

You scoffed. “No. He visited Borobos a couple times and I always got a bad feeling from him.”

Garroth hummed. A comfortable silence enveloped the two of you. One that made Garroth feel warm.

“If I . . . were to come to the wedding,” Garroth began. His voice was muffled, more so than usual. He was mumbling, and you wished for a moment that he would take off his helm so you could read his lips. “Would you dance with me?”

You smiled in response to his question and softly nodded. “I’ll be sure to save a dance for you.”

The helmet suddenly became very hot. Garroth’s cheeks were burning despite the happy smile stretched across his lips. You really were beautiful.

“That’s only if I decide to come,” Garroth added.

“Of course. Regardless, I wouldn’t want to fill my dance card before you had the chance to add your name,” you teased, a playful smile pulling at your lips. Garroth knew it was a tease. Phoenix Drop wasn’t fancy enough for things like dance cards.

“I do hope you’ll come,” you said after a moment. Your voice was more sincere, and Garroth could’ve sworn you leaned closer to him ever so slightly. “But even if you don’t, I’ll be sure to come by before I turn in for the night.”

“You don’t have to,” Garroth said, although he was using every bit of his willpower to hide the anticipation from his voice.

“I will.” You smiled again. “I enjoy spending time with you.”

Garroth’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest. The two of you had been doing this for a while now. Leaving small hints of your ever growing feelings to each other. The hints were never obvious, and you both always interpreted them as friendly interaction, but Garroth always let himself believe for just a moment that you felt the same way he did.

“What does your dress look like?” he asked. He was curious. He wanted to create a mental image of what you might look like before he eventually saw you later that day.

Your expression brightened, and you sat straighter. “It’s gorgeous,” you said, and Garroth listened intently as you explained how your dress looked. Your description was vague, and you tried your best describing all the details you could, but you knew the description you gave wouldn’t do it justice.

Garroth knew it, too.

—

Cadenza truly did make beautiful dresses and suits. She had dropped one off for Garroth earlier (“Just in case,” she had said) and he had marveled at the craftsmanship of it. The seams seemed sturdy and the fabric was high quality. Stepping into the plaza and seeing the care Cadenza had put into each outfit astounded him. But in his opinion, there was one that outshined them all.

You were right. The dress Cadenza had made for you was beautiful. Though, Garroth may have had a bias towards it since you were the one wearing it. The sleeves were long and puffy and made of a sparkly, sheer material. Golden florals were embroidered on the cuffs and the neckline and hem of the dress. The skirt was long and any time you spun it would follow the flow of your body in an elegant circle.

Garroth hardly noticed that the deep midnight blue of your dress matched the color of his bow tie. He also failed to notice the matching embroidery on your dress and the lapels of his blazer. It seemed as though fashion wasn’t the only thing Cadenza had an eye for.

Garroth waited until you were alone to approach you. He finally did once you had seated yourself after a rather boisterous dance Dale had dragged you into. He could see the way your chest quickly rose and fell as you tried to catch your breath, and Garroth looked away.

You noticed him coming in your peripheral. When you looked at him it seemed as though the world had stopped just to give the two of you a second to revel in each other’s presence. A smile stretched across your lips, the one that Garroth loved. You perked up at the sight of him, and turned your body in the chair to face him better.

“You’re here,” you said. Garroth nodded.

“I thought it’d be fun.” You nodded, but your thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. You were focused on his face, a sight you had never seen. Despite that, you had instantly recognized him and the soft smile he gave you. It was one you had imagined many times. Seeing it was exhilarating.

“I believe I owe you a dance,” you said to him once the music had changed to a slower tune.

Garroth’s smile widened and he held his hand out. “May I, Lady Y/n.”

You chuckled and placed your hand in his. Irene, you were so giddy. “You may, Sir Garroth.”

You laughed again as Garroth pulled you up from your seat and led you to the dance floor, where other pairs had began gathering. Garroth wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. You felt safe and protected in his arms, and although the two of you were much closer than was appropriate for a couple that wasn’t together, no one batted an eye.

“You’re very handsome,” you told him after a moment you had spent admiring his features. And he truly was. His curly hair reflected the fairy lights and moonlight in a way that made it seem golden, and his eyes were probably the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. His cheekbones were defined and his lips looked so . . . kissable. You wanted to trace your thumb across every feature and commit it to memory, ready to recall whenever you needed the comfort of a familiar face.

“And you look radiant,” he replied, smiling down at you. And, Irene, his smile was just perfect. It was enough to make any girl fall in love.

You let out a soft breath of amusement, adjusting your arms around him so you could hold him impossibly closer. “You’re just saying that,” you whispered. You didn’t know what else to say.

“I’m not,” he instantly said. His voice was soft to match yours, though the more he talked the more you suspected his quiet tone was to hide his hesitation and nerves. “You are the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen. You’re the kind of woman men would fight a war for.”

Your face heated. You tried biting back a smile, but only failed miserably. “Would you go to war for me?”

“Without a doubt.”

You wished there weren’t so many people around so you could lean into Garroth and press your lips against his. You were sure that was the only correct reaction to have.

Garroth seemed the share the same thought, or at least a similar one. He leaned forward, his face red and his gaze nervous, to whisper in your ear. “I’d like to take you somewhere.”

He had stuttered over his words. You found it to be the most endearing thing. You looked up at him and nodded.

“After this song,” he said, snaking his arm further around you to hold you closer to him. His face was still red as a cherry and his breaths seemed out of focus, but you weren’t much better. Your heart felt like it would beat right out of your chest at any moment and you felt like you were in a daze with him.

It felt like the song from Zoey’s enchanted music box went on for hours after he said that. When it finally ended, Garroth reluctantly let go of you and you reluctantly let go of him. He kept his hand entwined with yours, though, and led you through the small crowd of people and away from the party.

You followed him to the woods. He didn’t lead you too deep, but just far enough so you were out of sight from peering eyes. Just far enough so he could have a truly private moment with you.

Once he stopped the two of you stood in silence for a moment. Your gazes went back and forth. He would spend a moment staring at you before he caught your gaze and looked away, and the same thing would happen to you. Those first few seconds were nothing more than fleeting glances until Garroth finally spoke.

“You really do look beautiful,” he whispered. Your warm smile made Garroth’s nervous gaze soften. He looked at you like you had hung the very stars in the sky.

“So you’ve said,” you replied. You risked it and took a step closer. Had you been in his room at the guard station, your movements closer to him could have been passed as you allowing yourself to slip towards him. Now, though, it was painfully obvious that it was a decision you consciously made.

“Well it’s true.” Garroth didn’t move close to you like you had to him, but his gaze did flit down to your feet. You took a chance and stepped closer again, and Garroth shifted forward.

“Is there something you wanted to say, Sir Garroth?” you asked, tilting your head up to him. You sometimes added the title sir to tease him. “Or did you bring me all the way here just to tell me again I’m pretty?”

Garroth’s cheeks pinkened and he let out a strained huff. “No, I . . .” He paused. You raised your eyebrows expectantly but didn’t say anything. You wanted to give him all the time he needed to collect his thoughts. “I’ve found myself wanting to be rather . . . spontaneous, recently.”

“Yes, you’ve brought me into the woods rather unexpectedly.” Your lips stretched into a soft smile and you chuckled. “Spontaneity isn’t bad. Sometimes the result can be good.”

“I fear I may ruin a friendship if I act on my impulses.” Garroth swallowed and quickly swiped his tongue over his lips. “And I would deeply regret it if this girl stopped talking to me because of what I’d do.”

“Oh, so it’s a girl you like?” You tried to keep your voice even and unfeeling, but the small heartbreak still made its way into your words. You felt your smile fade and you found yourself taking a small step away from him. You hadn’t anticipated for him to like you back—you had seen the way he interacted with Phoenix Drop’s lord—but some small part of you hoped that some of the signs you’d seen could be an indicator of romantic feelings toward you.

“Well,” you began after a brief pause. You paused again after the word left your mouth, though, thinking. Did you want to pretend for just a moment? Or would that only hurt you more? “Any girl would be lucky to have you,” you settled on.

Garroth hummed. You didn’t know if he’d noticed you step away from him, but he definitely took a step closer.

“Would you recommend I act on an impulse of mine?”

You nodded. You had seen the way Garroth acted around Aphmau, but you had also seen how Aphmau acted around Garroth. Even if you couldn’t have him the way you wanted, you were going to help him for his own sake.

Garroth took a breath. You were ready for him to thank you for your brief advice, but you hadn’t expected him to lean forward and press his lips against yours.

Although his kiss was soft, the action shocked you. You had stiffened for a moment, and Garroth had began pulling away to apologize, but you were quick to pull him back. Your hands reached up to wrap around his neck and rest on his chest so you could tug his lips back down to yours. You kissed him softly at first, but when your fingers threaded through his golden locks and you pressed your lips harder against his and he wrapped his arms around your waist, you couldn’t help the breathless sigh that escaped your lips when he pulled away for just a moment.

You were quick to reconnect your lips, and when you did Garroth lifted you off the ground and spun in a circle for the flow of your dress to follow. This was arguably the best thing he’d ever experienced.

When he pulled away it was just an inch. He kept his forehead pressed against yours and his eyes closed and the two of you shared the same air. There was a wide smile on your lips, and you were so happy you laughed.

You couldn’t remember what was said after that, but the warm and fuzzy feeling stayed in your heart for hours after the fact. Days, even. You carried it with you the next day and the day after and the day after that.

And when the two of you went back to the plaza, soft smiles on your faces and hands just barely brushing against each other, everyone knew something had changed.

—

Even though everyone in the village could see the shift in your relationship with Garroth, you tried to keep it private and pretend nothing was different. Stolen kisses in the guard tower before he went for patrol, brief brushes of hands against each other, fleeting glances to the other from down the path. You hadn’t even really officiated anything and your stomach flipped at every sight of him.

You still found yourself venturing to the guard tower every morning wirh a basket. You would often bring a little something for Laurance and Dante and Dale or whoever else was currently positioned, but Garroth was always the main focus of your attention. It had gotten to the point where Laurance and Dante could recognize you by the sound of your footsteps, and they always stepped aside and told you where Garroth was.

He was in his room more often than not. He had taken to removing his helmet around you and rarely wore it when you visited. You could see his pretty eyes that way, and you always smiled and told him that they were, and somewhere along the line the two of you would press your lips together and spend a couple minutes every day pretending you were the only people in the world.

“I’d like to court you,” he told you one day, though his voice was quiet and hesitant. You couldn’t tell if he was truly hesitating to say that, though, or if his muffled tone was from the fact that his lips were pressed against the junction of your jaw. He stopped for a moment, his soft breaths brushing against the shell of your ear. “I know we’ve been . . . close, recently, but we’ve never spoken about it. I’d like to do this properly.”

“Why don’t you, then?” you asked. You turned your head to meet his gaze when he pulled away, just enough to look you in the eyes. There was a soft smile on his face, like he couldn’t believe you weren’t denying him.

“Is that a yes?” His voice was hopeful, and you chuckled. How could he ever think you’d say no?

“Yes, Garroth,” you said, your tone light. “It is.”

You heard something of a smack against the frame of Garroth’s closed door. You turned your head, expecting someone to come in. No one did. You only heard the soft clinking of armor on the other side.

“Finally.” The voice was muffled and quiet through the wood, but you recognized it as Laurance’s.

“That was taking forever.” And that voice belonged to Dante. Your gaze flicked back to Garroth, finding that he was covering the lower half of his blushing face.

“You don’t even know. He’s been yapping about her since before you were even here.”

You hear their footsteps disappear down the hall as they walk away from Garroth’s room. You wait for a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles.

Garroth’s hand entwined wirh yours and the two of you spent a moment longer talking, though most of the conversation came in the form of lighthearted teasing from you. Garroth’s cheeks only turned more and more red with every word you spoke, until finally you had to let him go so he could complete his patrol.

You walked along the cobbled roads gappier that day, along with every other day that came. There was a spring in your step and you practically skipped everywhere you went.

You tried to keep it private. Tried to keep the yearning glances and kisses behind closed doors, but everyone knew it. Everyone could see the attachment their head guard had grown for the baking maiden in the village, and no one thought there was nothing more fitting than that.

i fear this piece gave me intense imposter syndrome??? for some reason??? idk i feel like i could’ve done way better and this piece is shit but alas. anyways anon i hope you enjoyed i wish i could’ve done better for you 🫡

TAGGING: @mellozhi @garrothswiferealnotfake if you’d like to be added to the mcd or garroth taglist comment or to let me know!!

[cloudyluun]

Like Hell You’d Tell Me No | PB fic

(tommyshelby x fem!reader – s2 era)

Summary: When Y/N gets sent to Birmingham for her own protection, the last thing she expects is to be dropped into the middle of Shelby territory, especially under the icy watch of one Thomas Shelby. But somehow, she keeps breaking his rules... and somehow, he lets her. Between unannounced office visits, drunken nights in his chair, and a new bestie in Ada Shelby, Y/N is stirring up more than just trouble. And when things start to heat up between her and Tommy, they might just find themselves caught in a moment that neither of them is quite ready for, yet.

A/N: okay so, I always write Harry (literally always), but while prepping for my internship I decided to finally watch Peaky Blinders... and now I’m unwell. Like, genuinely not okay. Tommy Shelby lives in my head rent-free and I can’t make him leave. 😭

So instead of lesson planning like a responsible adult, this little fic idea basically wrote itself at 1AM with Taylor Swift playing in the background lol. Not sure if I’ll continue this or if I’ll dabble in multiple fandoms, but I had fun writing it and wanted to share in case anyone else is also deep in their Peaky Blinders phase

Word Count: 4147

Warnings: 

Light drinking

Mentions of past threats/harassment (non-graphic)

Protective/possessive behavior (from Tommy, ofc)

Language (it’s Peaky Blinders, there’s swearing lol)

Slow-burn tension and emotional build-up

Mentions of minor violence (one punch, classic Tommy move)

Unresolved romantic tension (aka cliffhanger ending 😌)

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Tommy just… stares.

The silence in the room stretched, thick as the smoke curling from his cigarette. Papers sat idle in front of him, ignored now. The man across the desk – some poor bastard talking percentages – had gone completely still, mouth half-open like he was about to continue his pitch until she appeared out of nowhere.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room like she’d walked into a pub instead of the Shelby Company office. Young, maybe mid-twenties, wearing a travel-worn coat and scuffed boots. There was something in her look. Not arrogance. Just no fear. Like she'd met worse than a room full of Shelbys.

“Door was open,” she said again, tilting her head. “Didn’t think it was a problem.”

Arthur snorted behind her. “Bloody hell, she’s brave.”

Polly didn’t say a word, but the look on her face was a mix of amusement and caution. Always watching.

Tommy took a slow drag, tapped ash into the tray. “You must be Y/N.”

“Yeah,” she said, stepping in without being asked. “You must be Tommy, Thomas Shelby.”

“Bit early to be on first-name terms.”

“Bit late not to be,” she replied, dropping her bag by the wall like she belonged there. “You owe my brother a favor. I’m the favor.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. Not from her mouth. Not from anyone, really. But the message had come a few days ago, and he’d read it twice just to be sure. Michael Carter. They’d served together. Pulled him out of a trench once. Didn’t talk much after the war, but when a man like that writes and says his sister’s in trouble, you pay attention. You don’t say no.

“What kind of trouble?”

She shrugged. “The vague kind. London’s full of it. Wrong place, wrong time. Few names I shouldn’t have known, a few blokes who didn’t like me walking away.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair. “You running?”

“I’d call it more of a stroll,” she said. “Don’t worry. I didn’t bring much baggage.”

He looked at her. Really looked. She was tired but not broken. Something restless behind her eyes. There was a fight in her, the kind that either got people killed or made them dangerous friends. He wasn’t sure which yet.

“You’ll stay above the shop,” he said after a pause. “Spare room. Polly’ll take you up.”

Y/N glanced toward Polly, who gave a small nod.

Tommy picked up his pen again, glancing at the man across from him who’d gone completely pale. “Now, if we’re done with the interruptions–”

“I’ll get out of your hair,” she said, already walking off.

“Don’t wander.”

She turned in the doorway, gave a small smirk. “No promises.”

Polly followed her out a moment later, her heels sharp on the floorboards.

Arthur leaned in with a low whistle. “She’s got some fire, that one.”

Tommy didn’t answer. He was staring at the spot she’d been standing in. His jaw clenched as he exhaled smoke through his nose.

“She gonna be trouble?” Arthur asked.

“She already is,” Tommy said quietly, then went back to pretending to listen to the pitch in front of him.

--

Upstairs, Y/N was already sizing up the space. The spare room was clean enough. Not warm, but not cold either. Polly stood by the door, watching.

“You’re lucky,” Polly said finally. “He doesn’t like people in his office. Doesn’t like people full stop.”

Y/N looked around, then dropped onto the bed with a soft thump. “I’ll keep out of his way.” Polly gave a dry smile. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Downstairs, Tommy stubbed out his cigarette, but his hand hovered near the tin for another. He didn’t light it. Just sat there, staring at the door where she’d come in like a storm in worn boots and sharp words.

A favor owed, he thought. Just a favor.

But he already knew better.

The days that followed proved it. She didn’t just stay in the spare room. She moved through the betting shop like she’d always been there. Tommy had told himself he’d figure out what to do with her once things settled, once he had time. But time didn’t slow for the Shelbys. And she didn’t wait for permission.

“You know there’s a kettle in the back, right?” she asked one morning, walking into his office without knocking. Again. She set a chipped mug down on the desk like it was hers to do so. “You don’t have to drink your weight in whisky before noon.”

Tommy looked up slowly. “You bring tea to every man who gives you a place to sleep?”

“Only the grumpy ones,” she said, hands in the pockets of her skirt. “Which is lucky for you.”

He didn’t answer, just stared at the steam curling from the cup.

She lingered a second longer, then turned to leave. “Try not to scowl into it too hard. Might go bitter.”

That was the third time that week she’d barged in. Polly had stopped bothering to intervene. Arthur found it funny. John asked if she had a death wish.

Tommy just drank the tea.

It wasn’t that she was rude. She just didn’t care about the little rules. Rules like knocking before you enter a room that belongs to Thomas Shelby. Rules like not sitting in the man’s chair while drunk at the end of a long day.

Which she did.

It was Friday, the shop was quiet, and she had found the whisky in the cabinet behind the front desk. Arthur had offered her a glass earlier. She’d declined then. Hours later, she helped herself.

Tommy walked in to find her kicked back in his chair, legs tucked under her, nursing a glass. Her boots were off and resting on the floor beside her. She looked comfortable. Dangerous thing to be in his space.

“You’re in my chair,” he said.

She turned her head lazily. “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

He didn’t say anything. He looked at her for a moment, then walked to the other side of the room. Took off his coat, hung it up. Sat on the edge of the desk, lit a cigarette. The quiet filled the space between them.

“You always drink alone?” he asked finally.

“I wasn’t alone,” she said. “You came in.”

Arthur came by halfway through and nearly choked on his laughter. John followed, paused in the doorway, gave a long low whistle.

“She’s got some bloody nerve,” John said under his breath.

Tommy said nothing. Just exhaled a long stream of smoke and looked at the ceiling.

After a few minutes, she stood, wobbling just a bit, and set the glass down neatly on the desk.

“Thanks for not shouting,” she said. “It’s rare.”

He watched her as she walked out, barefoot, leaving the smell of whisky and some kind of sweet soap in her wake.

The door clicked shut.

Arthur leaned closer to Tommy after a beat. “You gonna let her get away with that?”

Tommy didn’t look at him. “She’s not doing any harm.”

John raised an eyebrow. “She was in your chair, brother.”

Tommy stubbed out his cigarette. “She’s not in it now.”

That was how it was. She floated in and out of the betting shop like smoke, slipping through the cracks no one else dared to touch. She was younger, yes. Full of jokes and sudden laughter. The kind that didn’t come from politeness but from deep inside, like she refused to let the world make her quiet.

He didn’t know what to make of her yet. But he noticed things. The way she talked to everyone. The way she read newspapers he hadn’t even opened yet. The way she knew how to patch a rip in her own coat with needle and thread without making a fuss. Like she’d done it a hundred times.

She didn’t belong here. Not really. But she was here. And the longer she stayed, the more it felt like a storm had rolled in and decided to settle.

He didn’t know what the hell he was going to do with her. But he knew sending her away wasn’t an option anymore. That thought sat in the back of his mind the night Arthur burst through his office door, out of breath and sweating.

“She’s at the Garrison,” he said. “Alone. Some bloke’s not takin’ the hint.”

Tommy didn’t say anything. He stood, grabbed his coat, and walked past Arthur without a word. His pace was calm, but his steps were hard. Each one louder than the last on the wooden stairs.

The Garrison wasn’t far, but it felt like miles. His hands curled into fists at his sides. Inside, the music was low and the laughter was higher than usual. A Friday night crowd. Voices blurred together until one stood out.

“Come on, sweetheart,” a man was saying. “Don’t be so bloody cold.”

Tommy moved through the crowd like smoke. He didn’t shove. Didn’t speak. Just walked until the man came into view. Broad-shouldered, older, drunk. Y/N was backed against the wall near the end of the bar, her arms crossed tight and chin lifted. She wasn’t scared, but she wasn’t laughing either.

“I said no,” she repeated, voice firm.

“And I said I don’t care,” the man replied, hand brushing against her arm again.

Tommy didn’t stop walking. The man didn’t see him coming. One second he was smirking, the next he was on the ground, nose caved in and blood gushing. No warning. No words.

The room went quiet.

Tommy didn’t look down. He turned to Y/N, who hadn’t moved. Her face had gone pale.

“Come on,” he said.

She followed him out into the street without arguing. The cold hit her hard, cutting through the whisky in her blood. They walked in silence for a few blocks, her footsteps uneven beside his. She hadn’t even grabbed her coat.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said finally.

He didn’t look at her. “Yes. I did.”

She shoved her hands into her pockets. “I could’ve handled it.”

“I’m sure,” he said, voice flat. “But, he touched you.”

She stopped walking. He stopped too, turning to face her.

“I don’t need a fucking bodyguard, Tommy.”

“No,” he said. “You need someone to keep you alive. That’s me now.”

She stared at him, jaw tight, but her voice cracked when she spoke again. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

He looked at her. Really looked. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair wind-blown, and her eyes shining in that way they did when she was holding too much in. She was trying to be tough, but her hands were shaking.

He stepped closer, calm now. “You all right?”

She looked away. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“It wasn’t the first time someone got too close.”

Tommy’s jaw clenched. His fingers flexed at his sides. He didn’t say what he wanted to say. That London was behind her, but its shadows were still clinging. That he should’ve never let her walk out alone. That the second he got word she was in danger, his heart had pounded like it hadn’t since France.

Instead, he took a breath and said, “Next time you go out, you take someone with you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Arthur? Polly?”

“Me,” he said. “Preferably.”

The silence stretched between them, and something shifted in her face. Not fear. Not defiance. Just something quieter.

“Right,” she said. “Okay.”

He nodded once, then turned and kept walking. She followed.

The streets of Birmingham were dark, damp, full of half-spoken threats. But she walked beside him like it was the safest place she’d ever been.

The next morning, Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor of the spare room, trying to make sense of the mess she called her belongings. Half-unpacked bags, a few folded letters, and a pair of boots still caked in city grime. She was tugging a comb through her hair when there was a knock on the door. “Mind if I come in?” came a voice.

Y/N turned to see a woman leaning in the doorway, lipstick perfect, hair pinned up tight like she meant business even on a quiet day. She looked familiar in that way all the Shelbys did.

“Ada, right?” Y/N said.

“That’s me. Figured it was about time we had a proper chat,” Ada replied, stepping in without waiting. “They’ve all been talking about you.”

“Yeah?” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

Ada grinned. “Only if you hate compliments wrapped in irritation.”

She handed over two cups of something that smelled strong enough to kick. Y/N took one with a grateful nod.

“Whiskey in the coffee?” Y/N asked.

“Bit of both. It’s the Shelby way.”

They sat near the window, legs stretched out, warmth settling into the space.

“You’re not like them,” Ada said after a moment. “Not from here. Not stuck in it like the rest of us.”

Y/N gave a little shrug. “London’s not exactly better.”

“No, but you’ve still got light in your eyes,” Ada said. “Most people around here have it beaten out of them by twenty.”

Y/N looked out the window. “I don’t know about light. I just don’t see the point in pretending everything’s always awful.”

Ada sipped from her cup. “That’s what I mean. You’re a bloody breath of fresh air. Especially among all these grumpy bastards.”

Y/N laughed. “Speak for yourself. You’re just as sharp.”

“I get it from my mother. And years of watching Tommy scowl at paperwork.”

At the mention of his name, Y/N glanced away, but Ada noticed. Of course she did.

“He’s different with you,” Ada said.

Y/N frowned. “Different how?”

Ada leaned in, smug. “Less growling. More… I don’t know. Breathing.”

“You’re making things up.”

“I’m not.” She pointed her cup at Y/N. “You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, you know that?”

Y/N blinked, actually blinked, and then laughed into her drink. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on,” Ada said. “He doesn’t even let me in his office unannounced.”

Y/N bit her lip. “Maybe he’s just tired of telling me off.”

“No. That’s not it.” Ada gave her a long look. “He trusts you.”

There was a weight in those words Y/N hadn’t expected. She didn’t answer right away. Trust wasn’t something she’d had a lot of lately. It felt strange to even think about.

“He walked me home last night,” Y/N said quietly. “After a man at the Garrison got pushy.”

Ada nodded. “I heard. Arthur said Tommy didn’t say a word. Just broke the bloke’s nose and left.”

Y/N stared down into her mug. “He didn’t even look angry. That’s what got me.”

Ada tilted her head. “That’s worse, you know. Means he meant it.”

Y/N smiled faintly. “I know it’s just a favor, what he’s doing. Letting me stay. Letting me be here.”

Ada stood and stretched. “It started out that way, but i believe it has turned into more. That’s why it matters.”

She walked toward the door, then turned. “You’re good for him. Whether he admits it or not.”

Y/N stayed by the window after she left. The coffee had gone cold, but she held it anyway, hands wrapped around something solid.

Out in the street, she caught sight of Tommy crossing to the shop, coat pulled close, face unreadable as ever.

She watched him for a second too long. Then she looked away, heart skipping in a way she pretended not to notice.

By the time evening came, the betting shop had been cleared out, lanterns strung up, and Polly’s birthday turned into one of those Shelby nights that started quiet and always ended with someone singing out of tune. Y/N wasn’t much of a drinker, but it was hard to say no when John poured heavy and Polly kept pressing glasses into her hand with a look that said she’d take offense otherwise.

She’d laughed too hard, danced once with Ada, twice with Arthur, and ended up slipping out when her head started to spin and the voices all blurred into one. The music still floated through the floorboards when she made her way up the stairs and pushed open the office door.

She didn’t even bother with the lights. The soft glow from the hallway was enough. She crossed the room like it was muscle memory now and dropped into the chair behind the desk. His chair. She tucked one leg under herself and took a slow sip from the bottle she’d brought up.

The first sip burned. The second didn’t.

She leaned back and closed her eyes for a second, listening to the muffled laughter below, the distant clink of glasses. The door creaked after a few minutes. She didn’t open her eyes.

“Told you I like your chair,” she said lazily.

Tommy stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “You’ve got a habit.”

“I’ve got nowhere else that’s quiet,” she replied.

He walked across the room and sat on the edge of the desk, facing her. No coat, sleeves rolled just enough to show the edge of his tattoo. His tie was loose. He looked like he’d stopped pretending to be the man everyone thought he had to be.

She glanced at him and smiled faintly. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the party?”

He shrugged. “They won’t miss me for a few minutes.”

She tilted the bottle toward him. “Want some?”

“I’ve had enough.”

“Then keep me company.”

So he did. They sat in the kind of silence that had weight but no pressure. She traced a line in the wood grain of the desk with her finger, then spoke, soft and unguarded.

“Do you ever feel like you don’t belong anywhere?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed on her face.

“I used to think London was it,” she went on. “Then everything went to shit. I came here thinking it’d be worse. But now I just feel stuck in between.”

She looked down. “And I hate feeling like a guest. Like I’m just waiting for someone to tell me it’s time to go.”

“You’re not a guest,” Tommy said.

“Then what am I?”

He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t answer either.

She looked at him, really looked. The way his eyes softened in moments like this, when no one else was around to see. How still he went when he let his guard down. Like it scared him more than war ever had.

“You don’t talk much,” she said.

“I say what needs saying.”

“Right.” She took another sip. “But you listen.”

Their eyes met. Her thumb brushed the side of the glass, and his fingers reached out absently to take it from her. Their hands touched – just a second – but it was enough to make her chest tighten.

He set the bottle down without breaking the gaze. Neither moved.

“Why are you always so calm?” she whispered.

“I’m not.”

His voice was low. Closer now. She hadn’t noticed how near he’d leaned until she could feel the warmth of him, the faint scent of tobacco and something colder underneath.

Her fingers curled around the arm of the chair.

His hand was resting near hers on the desk. Not quite touching. But close.

Too close. Not close enough.

The silence pulled tight between them. She wasn’t sure who was holding it there, but it felt deliberate, like something balanced on the edge of a blade.

She didn’t move her hand.

Tommy shifted closer, the worn fabric of his sleeve brushing hers. Her breath caught. He didn’t look at her yet, not directly – his eyes stayed on the papers scattered across the desk like they meant something. Like any of this was still about business.

“Don’t smoke in here,” she said quietly, not looking at him either.

“I’m not.”

“You were earlier. Without me.”

He didn’t argue. Just leaned back the slightest bit, the corner of his mouth twitching like he might smile, but didn’t. His voice stayed low.

“You always this jumpy around men, or just me?”

She turned her head. Met his eyes. “You always this full of yourself, or just with women who talk back?”

There was a flicker in his expression, something like approval, maybe amusement. Maybe something sharper underneath.

“Maybe I like women who talk back.”

“Maybe you like trouble.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth for the briefest second. “I’m in the business of it.”

That pull in her gut tightened. Her fingers curled harder around the arm of the chair, grounding herself. It wasn’t enough.

The room had gone quiet again, except for the tick of the clock on the mantel and the soft hum of music and voices seeping in from the hallway. The party still spun on without them, but here it felt like everything had narrowed to the space between their hands.

She turned slightly, just enough that her knee brushed his. She didn’t apologize. Neither did he.

“Thomas.”

He lifted his eyes again. That look he gave her made her forget what she was about to say. Or maybe she hadn’t planned to say anything at all.

He leaned in. Slowly, like he wanted her to see it coming. His breath was warm against her cheek, and there was that scent again – tobacco, sharp gin, and something colder. Something metallic, like the edge of a coin.

The air between them thickened. She could feel her pulse in her throat, in her fingertips.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Is this the part where you kiss me, or tell me I’ve crossed a line?”

Tommy’s eyes darkened, his focus slipping to her lips, then back up. A slow smirk curved his mouth, not the cruel one he used in business, not the charming one he pulled out for show. This one was quieter. Closer to real.

He leaned in just a little more.

Then came the knock.

Three sharp raps on the doorframe.

“You two decent?”

Ada’s voice cut through the moment like a blade.

Y/N jerked back in her chair, heat rushing to her face as if she’d been caught doing something she hadn’t even done.

Tommy straightened slowly, not looking away from her. The smirk was gone. What replaced it was something harder to name. Something held tight behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” he called, not loud. “We’re decent.”

Ada poked her head in, grin wide, eyes darting between them. “Well, don’t let me interrupt whatever this was.”

“It was nothing,” Y/N said too quickly. She cleared her throat. “Just work.”

“Right.” Ada’s grin didn’t budge. “You’re missing the part where Finn tries to charm the Americans. It’s going about as well as you’d expect.”

Tommy gave a short nod. “We’ll be out soon.”

Ada raised a brow but didn’t push. “Suit yourselves.” She ducked out again.

The silence came back, heavier this time.

Y/N stood, smoothing her skirt like it might help her pretend nothing had happened. Nothing almost had.

Tommy watched her. Didn’t say anything at first.

She didn’t meet his eyes.

“I should–” she started.

“Go back to the party,” he said softly.

She looked at him then.

“We’ll finish this later.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖

[ixekizumab]

Author's Note

To start, I don’t think anyone needs to justify their choice to leave this fandom or their choice to stay. That said, I wanted to say a couple things.

I’m hoping this doesn’t read like virtue signaling—I’m honestly still trying to process my thoughts and reactions to everything going on in the world. I have a hard time with conversations like this because I always feel like I’m not “thoughtful” or “articulate” enough. But I’ve been wresting with the guilt that I think many of us have for continuing to interact with IP whose creator does her best to be a relentless force for harm in the world. I don’t think that guilt ever will or should go away; in fact, I think holding both truths at once is a vital part of continuing to engage with this fandom.

And the second truth, of course, is that this fandom is also a powerful force for good.

There’s something wonderful in taking this magical but highly problematic world and doing our best to reshape it in a way that uplifts queer, trans, and neurodivergent stories in a gift economy. Part of me feels like to leave this space entirely and to stop doing this thing that She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named hates so much is letting her win. Letting her take back characters that we have made our own. I know not everyone feels that way, and I wholeheartedly support anyone who wants to take this moment to step away from this fandom. 

But for the time being, I’ll be staying. I don’t think that HP fandom spaces will ever cease to exist, so I’d like to do something, however small, to help make these spaces safe, accepting, rebellious, and educational. I’m going to do my best to keep my own tiny space explicitly anti-TERF, anti-racist, anti-Trump, and anti-For Profit Healthcare.

I know this has been said a thousand times, but truly, nothing we do in the virtual world matters as much as what we are doing in the real world to protect trans rights. Petition, protest, vote, do your best to be a safe person in your community. Don't buy official HP merch or promote the reboot, obviously. And take care of yourself so you can keep showing up and fighting in any way you can. 

Also, if you’ve been engaging with my silly stories here or on AO3, I really appreciate and love you. This fandom community was a lifeline for me at a time when I really needed one. Sometimes I feel like I spend the majority of my life cosplaying as a Normal Adult™️ and this is the one place I can be my realest self. If you ever feel like this or just want to chat, feel free to DM me any time <3

xoxo ixie

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Miss Me?

Rating: Mature Audiences

Warning: spicy, wlw smut, Jana being a munch, !top Jana, !bottom reader, oral (fem reseving), fingering (fem reseving)

Paring: Jana El Alfy x!non-athletic fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: sending Jana spicy pics while she's away is like playing with fire

Tag list: @sageworld

The sun peeked through the blinds, golden beams spilling over the small dorm room that had slowly become as much mine as it was Jana’s. Her side of the room was neat and minimalist, a stark contrast to my textbooks and scattered snacks that claimed the other half. It was early, too early for a college student who’d stayed up late working on an essay, but Jana's soft humming pulled me from my half-asleep state.

"You're up," I mumbled, voice thick with sleep. I rolled over, and there she was, tying her hair back into a ponytail. Even in a simple UConn hoodie and black leggings, she looked like she belonged in a magazine.

"Big day," she said with a smile, sitting on the edge of the bed to lace up her sneakers. "Away game. You forgot?"

I blinked, suddenly more awake. "No, I didn’t forget. I just hate when you’re gone."

Jana paused, her hands stilling. She looked at me with a softness that made my chest ache. "I hate it, too. But it’s only a few days, habibti."

"Few days too long," I muttered, sitting up. I watched as she moved to grab her duffle bag, and a thought struck me. "Do you have time to eat before you go? I can make something quick."

She shook her head. "I ate earlier. But come here," she said, her voice dipping into something softer.

I stood, padding over to her in my fuzzy socks, and she wrapped her arms around my waist, pulling me close. Her touch was warm, grounding. I rested my hands on her shoulders, looking up at her.

"I don’t know how you expect me to survive without you," I teased, but the words were half-serious.

Jana leaned down, pressing a kiss to my cheek, then my lips, lingering for a moment before pulling back. "You’ll be fine. You have classes, friends...and maybe I’ll leave you a hoodie so it’s like I’m still here."

"Not the same," I pouted, but my fake annoyance dissolved when she kissed me again, this time deeper. Her hands slid up my back, her touch firm but tender.

She pulled back just enough to murmur against my lips, "You’re so sweet, you know that? The way you taste, the way you talk. Everything about you."

Heat rushed to my face, and I swatted her shoulder. "Jana!"

She laughed, pulling me even closer. "What? I’m just telling the truth. You’re my sweet girl."

I buried my face in her shoulder to hide my embarrassment, but her laughter made me smile despite myself.

After a moment, she sighed, her grip on me loosening. "I really have to go."

I stepped back reluctantly, watching her grab her bag and sling it over her shoulder. At the door, she turned back, a small smile playing on her lips. "Stay out of trouble while I’m gone."

"Can’t promise that," I shot back with a grin.

Her laugh was the last thing I heard before the door clicked shut.

The next few days were as dull as I expected. Classes dragged, and without Jana around, even the smallest tasks felt like a chore. I tried to distract myself by studying and catching up on laundry, but every time I stepped into her dorm, the emptiness hit me all over again.

It wasn’t until the evening before her return that I had an idea—a way to remind her that I was thinking about her just as much as she was thinking about me.

After a quick shower, I stood in front of the foggy mirrors. Snapping a spicy pic. Jana always teased me about how shy I could be, but I was determined to surprise her.

"Okay," I whispered to myself. "Just a picture. It’s not that serious."

But my heart was racing as I grabbed my phone, angling it carefully to capture just enough without showing too much. The light hit just right, highlighting my skin and the delicate lace. Satisfied, I attached the photo to a text with a simple message:

"Miss me yet? 😉"

I hit send before I could second-guess myself, then immediately threw my phone onto the bed, pacing nervously.

When my phone buzzed a minute later, I practically lunged for it.

Jana: "Are you trying to kill me? 😳"

Me: "Just wanted to make sure you don’t forget about me."

Jana: "Forget you? Impossible. But now I really, really hate being away."

Her response made me smile, but before I could type a reply, my phone buzzed again.

Jana: "You’re in trouble when I get back, habibti."

I laughed, imagining the flush on her face as she typed the message.

Me: "Guess you’ll have to come home quick then."

Jana: "You’re so lucky I’m obsessed with you."

The rest of the night passed in a flurry of texts, her teasing and playful comments making the hours fly by. When I finally crawled into bed, her last message played over in my mind, warming me from the inside out:

"I’ll be home soon, sweet girl. Wait for me."

Jana's POV

I shift into the room carefully, peeling the blankets off her without waking her. She stirs, mumbling something incoherent, and I freeze. Once I’m sure she’s still asleep, I get to work, kissing the inside of her thighs and trailing upward.

“Mmm... Jana?” Her voice is groggy, but there’s a hint of amusement laced in her tone. “Morning, baby,” I mumble against her skin. “M'jana, what are you—” Her words cut off into a soft gasp as I slide her legs apart gently. “Just let me take care of you, I tols you I'd be home soon.” I whisper, already lost in her scent, her warmth.

She moans softly, and I swear, it’s the best sound in the world. I take my time, savoring every second, every taste, every reaction.

She tries to push my head away at one point, half-heartedly, but I grip her thighs firmly, holding her in place.

Devouring her, my grip around her thighs tighten as I submerge my face deeper into her pussy, my nose ever so slightly grazing against her swollen clit. Adding the middle and ring finger into her pussy pumping at a steady pace. “Oh my god,” her moans grow louder as her orgasm gets closer, my free hand reaches and presses down on her lower stomach.

She let's out a strangled cry out as a clear liquid shoots out of her pussy, her body convulsing as I continue and I help her ride out her orgasm.

"Did such a good job habibti, m'proud. Now lets get you all cleaned up." I say as I pick her up bridal style, taking her and sitting her on my bathroom counter, setting up the bath. "You're such a a loving girlfriend, I'll return the favor later." She says kissing my cheek. "No need, I'm all taken care of." I stated pulling my hoodie off her top, helping her in before sinking in behind her.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

       -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[hippopotamusdreamer]

Office Fuss

genre. small hint of [A] ?, [M] SMUT, [F] at the end, [AU]

warnings. established relationship, swearing, SMUUUUUTT, 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex (p in v), semi-public sex (?), slight breath play, marking, groping, fingering (f rec), biting, spanking, praise, dirty talk, breeding kink, creampie, edging, thigh riding, brief nipple play, begging, hair pulling, Pet names (in no particular order): babe, baby, babygirl, sweetheart, needy girl, good girl, pretty, sweet girl

additional notes. Female! Reader | You/Your pronouns, a few other idols make a brief appearance, I.N as Jeongin and Lee Know as Minho in one part, use of Christopher, this was proof read once so good luck LOL MDNI warning a couple times cause you cant be too safe ya know

pairing. CEO!Bang Chan X reader

w.c. 5.7K

synopsis. You're working, so what does your boyfriend want???

Kpop Masterlist

Fandom Masterlist

You were roused from your sleep by a familiar feeling. Plush lips pressed against your face repeatedly. The familiar heehee of your boyfriend when he caught you trying to hide your smile from him like music to your ears.

“Channie,” you breathed in as you stretched in bed.

“Good morning,” he said into the crook of your neck, leaving a final kiss there.

He pulled back a bit to look at you, the both of you lying in serene silence. You brought your hand up to tangle in the mess of his curls, still a mess from last night’s escapades. Reaching for your hand, he brought it down and placed a tender kiss to your palm.

“Do we really have to go in to work today?” you whined.

He grinned brightly at your reluctance.

“As much as I want you all to myself, we have to. I have a couple meetings scheduled and then I have to draw up an expense report for last week’s business trip.”

“Oh, poor you~,” you teased him.

You yelped out in surprise when his arms suddenly wrapped around you, bringing you closer only to laugh out loud as he began to blow raspberries into your skin.

“Quit! Chan, you’re getting your slobber all over me!” you wriggled about, trying to get out of his hold but it was no use. His steel grip on you did not loosen.

Both of your alarms chose then to go off, the two of you groaning at the electrical intrusion. Pulling apart, you sat up in bed as Chan went to turn off the offending noise. You watch him silently as he maneuvers around your apartment as if he lived there. He stayed over so many times though, he might as well have. And vice versa with you staying at his apartment, even his doorman no longer had to call him up to make sure you were allowed in.

It had a been a reoccurring conversation between the both of you, moving in together. It was a big step in your relationship. You were hesitant but not because of how Chan was. Lord knows he was one of the better relationships you’ve ever had. No, the issue was your landlord having a problem with you leaving your contract early, but you finally managed to come to an agreement this past week.

All that was left was to tell Chan the good news.

You were brought out of your thoughts when Chan released the breath he was holding while stretching.

“There’s also going to be “surprise” inspection in your department after lunch today,” he said, using quotation marks with one hand while pulling up his jeans over his toned legs with the other. It made you snort until his words sank in causing your brows to furrow.

“Inspection? In the graphic design team? Why?”

“I don’t know, I think the CEO just wants to check that his workers are being productive down there.” He said with a smirk.

Matching his smirk with a sarcastic one, you met him as he bent down with a giggle to give you a kiss. Before either of you could get into it any further, his watch beeped on your dresser.

“Ok, I really have to go now if I wanna shower at home.” He said with a hint of sadness that you hadn’t picked up on. “I’ll see you at the office babe, I love you.”

Pulling away, Chan slipped on his shirt from last night but not until after giving you three more kisses goodbye.

“Bye, love you!” You called after him.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“Hey Y/N, how was your weekend? Did you do anything fun?” your desk mate, Jeon Jungkook, asked as he sat down next to you.

“Nope, nothing exciting. Binge watched yet another murder documentary,” you replied while not looking away from your screen. Though you could already tell he had a disgusted look on his face.

“I don’t understand how you can watch those back to back,” he said wrinkling his nose, all you could do was laugh at his reaction.

It was a secret, your relationship with a certain Bang Chan, current CEO of SKZ Enterprises. If word got around that he was seeing an employee who knows what that would do to your position at the company and they dynamic with everyone you worked with.

The two of you had met during a wild outing one random Saturday night a couple years ago. He was actually doing a body shot off of your friend when your eyes met. And he did not take his off you for the rest of the night. You thought he was the hottest guy in that club at that moment. Had you eye fucking the shit out of him on that bar top as you tried to control yourself.

You blamed your period tracker for saying your ovulation was at its peak that night.

Next thing you knew, you were practically devouring each other in the bathroom stall. Which led to you taking him home and him taking you out for breakfast the morning after. It wasn’t until a building wide assembly where Chan had to give a speech roughly four months into your situationship that either of you found out about the other’s career. Before that you’d only given each other a vague idea of what you each did for a living, so it was pretty surprising for both parties.

You then had a mildly awkward sit down with after that and had a heart to heart. You two tried to break it off leading to roughly a month apart. Emphasis on rough. It was ultimately for nothing since it all came crashing down when Chan showed up to your apartment soaking wet from the pouring rain and another heated night was spent together. From there you both confessed your actual feelings for each other and then promised to keep it hush hush while in the office.

“Y/N-ah,” a voice called behind you, pulling you from your thoughts for the second time that day. Turning around in your chair, you saw your department head, Hwang Hyunjin waving you over.

Heading over to meet him, you could see the way his hands were fidgeting and how his teeth basically mutilated his bottom lip. Raising an eyebrow at his behavior you asked him, “What’s up boss?”

“How are you coming along with the AT.EEZ files?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m almost done. I just have to refine some of the lines and then add the watermark. But it should be good to go before lunch. Why? Everything ok, you don’t look good.”

“That’s great. Wait, I don’t? No, I’m fine. I’m ok. I just got an email from MY team lead…”

He trailed off but you had worked with him long enough to know that he just wanted you to ask about it. If he wasn’t a brilliant artist, you were sure he would have made it big in the world of drama.

“…And what was in the email?” You mustered faux concern, already having an idea on what it contained.

“I can’t tell you,” You waited a beat before he continued. “Ok but you can’t tell anyone yet. I just got word that the head of the company is going to come down here today.”

“Whaaaat,” you blinked more than usual, trying to appear shocked by the news. Bringing your hand up to cover your mouth, you tried your best to shield your smile as much as possible. “What time is he supposed to come down here?”

“After lunch. So are you absolutely positive that you can be done with the files by then? They’re one of our top clients, we can’t let the higher ups have any reason to be breathing down our necks about them.” The wrinkles he gave himself was enough for you to not tease him anymore.

“Yes, I’m sure. You can count on me Hyunjin,” you promised while giving him a little salute. You could see him visibly deflate in relief.

“Ok, ok good. We’ll present your stuff in the meeting room first then. Seulgi, JK, how are the RKIVE drafts?” he questioned, moving past you towards your other co-workers.

With a final nod to yourself, you made your way back to your seat and continued working.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

You worked well until it was time for lunch yet just as you promised, you finished what you needed to. JK wanted to wait for you to go to lunch but you told him to go ahead knowing full well that Jeongin from Accounting would come and find you to go down together.

And just like clockwork, “ Hey Ugly, let’s go.”

“I’m coming Stupid,” was your automatic response.

Your relationship with Yang Jeongin was what people would consider siblings. But if they were the type of siblings that were born too close together and would constantly get on each other’s nerves. Even though you were older than him by a few years, he was able to bring out that twin energy out of you.

The two of you made it downstairs meeting your co-workers Soobin and Beomgyu along the way. Both happy to see you. With them working on the other side of the building, it was nice when you could meet up with them like this.

You thought you had caught a brief glance of your boyfriend but before you could double check, Beomgyu grabbed onto your arm telling you to hurry up, pulling you along with him.

Now, you were sat in the communal cafeteria. In the process of fighting off Jeongin’s chopsticks, which were trying to steal the last piece of meat off your tray, when Soobin distracted you.

“Did you hear that the CEO is going around some of the departments today?”

You looked at Soobin and subsequently lost your last bit of food. Frowning at the brunette, he just continued to chew with a smile much to your dismay. Beomgyu only laughed hysterically, clapping in delight at the scene before him.

“Yeah, I heard about it. Hyunjin was super worried.”

“Heard he’s looking for people to fire,” Jeongin inputted after swallowing your stolen treat.

“He is not,” you said incredulously.

“It could be true! I work in Accounting.”

The three of you just silently stared at him before you reached up to flick him on the forehead. He cried out in pain as he reached for the spot you hit.

“Aht!”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything Stupid?”

“It means,” he quickly got up from his seat startling everyone at the small table. “Shut up, that’s what.” He ended up flicking your forehead back before taking off to the trash cans near the entrance.

“Hey!” you cried after him.

“Mr. Yang, how many times do I have to tell you, no running!” Minho, the Director of Accounting, yelled after his subordinate.

The lunch shenanigans died down quickly with Jeongin’s departure. You, Soobin and Beomgyu conspiring as to the real reason why the head of the company would be checking around the departments. With neither of you coming up with any viable ideas, you had parted at the elevators to return to your respected floors.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

You were currently sat in Conference Room #3 waiting to get the presentation over with. The rest of your small department slowly trickling in. You were next to JK, him raving about what the meeting could be about.

“I’m just saying he could have given us a warning!” His head plastered to the table in front of him. Hands making a mess of his already shaggy hair.

“Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise visit now would it,” you replied immediately to his behavior.

“I’m just saying!” He swiftly lifted his head, you leaning back in your seat to not get hit with the larger man’s limbs.

“Sorry noona,” he said while patting your head.

You waved him off, already used to his antics. Crossing your arms and closing your eyes, you leaned back in your chair, an afternoon nap sounded amazing right about now.

“Like who does he think he is! Making everyone freak out at the last minute, a good boss wouldn’t do that. Don’t you think so noona?” He went quiet, probably waiting for you to respond.

“Oh yeah, can’t stand working for that guy. Hate him sooo much,” you said halfheartedly.

You felt a presence loom over you. So when you didn’t hear a peep from the younger man, you cracked open one of your eyes and came face to face with your boyfriend. Shocked, you almost fell from your chair had Chan not immediately supported you in your seat.

“Cha-Chr-Mr.,” you stuttered.

He was close enough that you were able to see the tick in his jaw.

Oh he was pissed.

“Miss. Y/L/N, follow me,” he got out, voice hard yet face unreadable as he turned back to the door. He paid no mind to the other people in the room.

“But the presentation…,” you uttered weakly.

“Now,” he hadn’t waited for you as he left. Stumbling after him, you caught a glimpse of JK’s worried face.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

You followed Chan as he went to his designated elevator. Being the CEO of the company had its privileges after all. Various workers looking at you in concern as you trailed after the head of the company.

The entire ride up was silent, you weren’t sure if you were supposed say anything or not. And since he wasn’t saying anything, you just followed along. He continued to lead you down to his office once the two of your reached the top floor. His assistant barely casting a glance in either of your directions.

“Han, cancel all my meetings for the rest of the afternoon.”

Han didn’t say anything, just gave a grunt of acknowledgement as he typed away at the computer before him, doing as his boss asked.

As the door shut behind you tried to explain yourself, “Chan, I—”

You didn’t get much out before you were swiftly pinned against the door, Chan’s hand wrapping around your throat. His fingers dug into the soft flesh there, applying pressure as he squeezed, your heart skipping a beat at the very familiar action. Though his grip wasn’t tight enough to cut off your air supply, it was enough to get your insides going fuzzy. He trailed his nose along your chin and up to your ear as he nipped at the soft flesh. His other hand firmly attached to your hip, massaging circles with his thumb since your button-up shifted.

“You hate working for me, baby? Baby, baby, baby…,” his voice gravely and dangerous as he moved his leg in between yours.

“Chan, w-what are you doing, we’re at work,” your eyes fluttered as you tried to move away from his teeth but another squeeze against the sides of your throat stopped you. Instead a quiet sigh fell from your lips as you brought your own hands up to grab at his shirt. Whether to stop him or bring him in closer, you weren’t sure yet.

“I’m not a jealous man Y/N-ah, but twice today I saw other guys have their hands on you.”

“No, they didn’t—”

“You gonna try to lie to me baby?” He questioned with another slight squeeze. You tried not to give him the satisfaction of showing what he was really doing to you. Biting your lip to keep your cool, you took a deep breath.

Then he leant down and bit onto the space between your neck and shoulder gently but firmly, and you were a goner.

“Chan,” you whimpered out as you began to rock gently against his thigh. The hand that had been massaging your hip now guided you back and forth. Heat pooling in your core at the motion. Your mouth opening and closing, wanting a kiss from him. “What if Han hears us?”

“Don’t think you can keep quiet babygirl?” He asked while pulling back from you slightly.

You shook your head no, trying not to pant. “Want a kiss Chan, please?”

“What manners my needy girl has,” he said while giving you a quick peck. The grin on his face was evidence that he knew that wasn’t what you had in mind and he knew it. “Don’t worry, the room’s soundproof. You can be as loud as you want.”

In one motion he had you grinding in a particularly rough fashion and you could feel yourself coming closer to the edge. You could no longer hide your panting from the man.

“S’that feel good baby?” He questioned in your ear.

“Uh huh,” you managed to get out quietly, basically white knuckling his shirt in your fists to bring him closer. “So good baby.”

Then he pulled away and you were left dazed and crying out in confusion. Almost toppling over unsteadily by the door as he made his way to his desk. You shook your head to clear the haze of lust that had made its appearance.

“What the fuck, Chan?”

“Come here baby,” he said leisurely while patting his lap after sitting.

You focused on him as he sat back in his plush desk chair, spreading out and making the space his own. His suit jacket and tie had been discarded on the couch in the room. The sleeves of his white button down were now rolled up and the top couple buttons were now undone leaving his chest and collar bone exposed. His hair tousled from how many times he ran his hands through it the entire day.

On shaky legs, you made your way over.

Swallowing thickly, and with a now slightly clearer head, you understood what was about to go down. You just had to be sure, once more, if it was ok as you took the hand that reached out for you. “Are you sure we should be doing this here?”

He didn’t say anything as he guided you to straddle his lap. His eyes darkened as he looked up at you, gently pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“We shouldn’t, but fuck if it isn’t tempting,” he gets out with a smirk.

Before you could protest further, he brought you down for a searing kiss. More teeth and tongue than anything. A degrading moan coming from who knows who.

“Wanna take your shirt off for me pretty?” He asked after breaking away.

Staring deep into his eyes, you trailed your hands over your body. Upward to the top button of your work blouse. As much as you tried to portray that you weren’t becoming a mess, the both of you could tell by the way your hands slightly shook. Fumbling with even the first button.

Chan, deciding to give you mercy, helped you with the first two instead. Eventually you did take over unbuttoning the rest as he sat up slightly in his seat. Trailing butterfly kisses along your collar bone, leaving a nibble here and there. A necklace of red marks appearing in his wake as he went.

Pulling the fabric off your shoulders, Chan slowly brought your shirt down to pool to the floor. Exposed chest on display, he reached behind you to unclasp your bra and tossed it to the side as well. With how cold it was in his office, your nipples immediately pebbled soon after being uncovered to the room. As much as you wanted to hide away from his hungry gaze, you knew he’d reprimand you in some way if you did.

“So fucking gorgeous, and for me only,” he said with a possessive growl.

With one hand supporting your lower back, he leant down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked hard, causing you to groan to the heavens. His tongue swirled around the hardened peak, occasionally pulling it slightly with his teeth. Chan was there for a bit, massaging away at the flesh with his mouth as his free hand latched onto the opposite breast. A wet pop was heard as he released the bud from his mouth and switched tactics with the other one. Giving it just as equal attention as you squirmed in place.

His arms held you close, keeping you flushed against him as he gave your nipple one last lick. Your own arms came up to wrap around him as well, one hand tangling in his hair as the other clutched at his shirt. The hand situated on your back moving down to cup your ass through your skirt, allowing you to finally move on his lap.

Like magnets, your lips connected together again.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” he said through the bruising kiss.

You shivered under his touch and praise, letting yourself fall further into the sensations. His other hand reaching down to rake your skirt up to bunch at your waist. His fingers teased the edge of your underwear before finally slipping underneath. His thick digits sliding through your folds easily with how slick you already were.

“Fuck…you’re so fucking wet baby,” he groaned against your lips, breaking the kiss to trail hot open mouthed kisses down your neck. You heart was pounding in your chest as the blood rushed to your ears.

“Channie,” You mewled out.

“What do you want sweetheart? Huh, use your words.”

This feeling was sinful. Though Chan’s door automatically locked, just the idea that anyone with the code could walk in on the two of you was enough to make you dizzy. You practically felt his cock twitching underneath you, straining against the fabric of his slacks. The way his fingers only brushed against your clit, driving you insane.

“Fi…,” You couldn’t think clearly as he squeezed your ass periodically the way that he knew would torment you.

“Hmm? Don’t you want to be my good girl?”

You nodded at his words immediately.

“My good girl would know how to use her words,” he teased while giving your ass a slap causing you to push forward. His fingers slipping in slightly deeper than before.

“There! Need you there!”

He smiled brightly at your eager form. His dimples popping out more than usual.

“Here?” He teased as your hips ground against his palm, you just knew your juices covered his hand.

And then he drove two of his digits inside. Your mouth falling opened in a silent gasp of pleasure. His mouth mirroring yours as he watched you intently.

“You’re so warm, baby. Is this all for me?”

You nodded in response, too caught up in the moment to respond properly. Your eyes becoming hooded as he curled his fingers just right inside of you. Each upward motion sending jolts of electricity through your entire frame. You couldn’t have pulled him in closer even if you tried.

“Oh goood~,” you finally managed to get out in a desperate cry.

“That’s it sweetheart. You ride my fingers so well, only I know where to touch you, ain’t that right, baby. Show me how much you want it.”

With the two inside you, his thumb moved in a certain way for it to land on your clit making you moan immediately into his neck. Rubbing at the swollen bud, his fingers continued to pump in and out of you.

“God, I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me. You feel amazing every time. Wish I could stay in here forever baby. I can feel it, just how close you are sweetheart. You’re squeezing down on my fingers so hard.”

Your cries echoed around the room, signaling your growing orgasm. Chan’s smile grew wider, his fingers working relentlessly between your folds, teasing your clit, and probing deep into your aching pussy.

“You love this don’t you baby? Being filled up by my fingers, making a mess of me at work.” He asked mockingly, voice, low and menacing.. “It’s addicting isn’t it? Maybe we should do this all the time. Just have you come up here every day. Let me have my way with you and no one outside of this room would know.”

Your moans grew louder, borderline screaming. A part of you hoping that Chan hadn’t lied about the room being soundproof. After being edged earlier and the slew of filthy words that kept coming from his mouth, it was no wonder you were on the brink of coming undone so fast. It was as if he could read your mind by the way he started to slow his arm motions down.

“Noo, Channie…baby please,” you pleaded with him not to stop, collapsing fully into him. “Fuck…I’m so close babe.”

The feeling of his fingers suddenly coming out of you was just appalling. The empty sensation enough to make you desperate, you needed to be filled with him.

Now.

“Chan pleeeease…I’ve been good. I’ve been so good, please…don’t do this.” You barely managed to cry out into his skin. He didn’t listen, only brought his glistening fingers to his mouth. You stared up at him, gaze still hooded, as he licked and sucked on his own digits. Your own tongue copying what his was doing to himself. The low groan he let out shooting straight to your frenzied core.

He smirked around his fingers as he tasted you on himself. With a final satisfied groan he licked them clean. Watched as you stared back at him, mouth parted. His eyes filled with lust that more than likely mirrored your own. You bit at your lip, body trembling with anticipation.

“I know you have been, my sweet girl. You ready for your reward?” He rubbed himself  through his slacks, visible wet spots in the fabric created by both of your arousals. By now, his cock could have been compared to a steel rod with how hard he’d been this entire time.

“Mmhmm,” Mewling quietly, you nodded. With one hand he brought you in for a deep kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth. The other began to undo his pants, freeing his throbbing cock from its confines. You moaned softly as he teased at your entrance, gliding between your folds before thrusting in without warning. The both of you groaning in ecstasy.

“Fuuuuuck…Christopher…,” his size was one you would never get used to no matter how many times you’ve fucked already

Chan reveled in the feeling that was just you.

It drove him insane just how much he wanted to be deeper inside of you with each thrust that he did. The way you bounced in his lap as he pounded into your tight pussy with a force that should have broken the chair immediately. Your tits bouncy in his face making him loose his mind even more.

“There’s my good girl,” he growled. “I’m gonna give you everything you need. No one else can fuck you this good, baby.”

“No one!” You echoed.

His hands, now holding you, tightened around your hips, holding you steady. The sound of your bodies colliding with each other echoing throughout the room too. His cock slid in and out of your folds with ease, coated in a slick layer of your combined juices.

Without warning, Chan brought his hand down across your ass, the sharp crack of flesh against flesh filling the air. Feeling the sting of his slap, you cried out, your body jolted forward from the impact. But instead of pulling away, you pushed against him, seeking more of that same sting.

“So good baby!” You cried breathlessly.

As he gave your ass another spank, you couldn’t hold back the moan that left your throat. Your backside began to turn pink under his hand.

Neither of you cared.

You could feel Chan’s cock throbbing inside of you. His hand left your ass to tangle inside your hair, tugging at it roughly. The movement caused you to gasp raggedly into the air.

“Gonna fill you up baby, gonna breed this tight little pussy. Make sure no one mistakes who you belong with. You hear me?”

“Yes, yes Christopher! Want you…fill me up…”

He grabbed onto you mid thrust to place you on top of his desk, not even breaking his rhythm. This new position allowed him to reach deeper, his cockhead practically kissing your cervix with every thrust inside.

“Ahh…ahh…ahh..” you gasped out, unable to contain your noises or desire.

“That’s right baby, you love to be filled with my cum don’t you?”

“Y-yeaaaah~”

Chan’s powerful thrusts continued to drive his cock inside your warm folds. You were in haze of bliss, surrendering to the feeling that was Chan.

“Fucking hell…,” he groaned, his voice thick with lust as he pounded into you with reckless abandon. Each thrust brought the two of you closer and closer to the release you so needed. Already he could feel your tight walls clenching around him, milking his cock for everything it was going to give.

“You ready baby?” He asked, the strain in his voice signaling that he was on the brink of losing it.

“Channie!” You choked out as you finally got to come underneath him. Your body trembling as wave after wave of ecstasy wracked your form. Legs locking around your boyfriend to keep him close to you.

“Fuck, I love you!” He yelled; his voice filled with pure ecstasy. His body tensed as his dick throbbed when he came, his cum hot as it painted your walls white. He groaned loudly as his vision went out briefly. He swore, if anyone had asked, he would have said he saw stars behind his eyelids.

He lay there, collapsed in your embrace. The both of you panting, breaths intermingling. He placed little kisses into your skin while you each calmed down from your highs. You trailed your fingers through his hair, feeling awash with serenity.

“I love you too by the way,” you said softly now that you weren’t being fucked out of your mind. You could just feel his smile as he tried to hide into your neck, much like he did earlier that morning.

“Oh no, don’t try to act all shy now!” You playfully chastised, pushing him away slightly to see his face better. “Not after what you literally just did to me.”

All he could do was laugh out loud, eyes disappearing behind his grin. His face becoming red in embarrassment under your hand.

A shuddered groan escaped the both of you as Chan finally pulled his softening dick out of you.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

After allowing yourselves a moment to clean up after the debauched act, you were sat in his desk chair, him in front of you. Your legs on his as he sat crossed legged on the mahogany item.

“Alright babe, spill. What’s wrong?” you asked.

“What’d’you mean? Nothing’s wrong,” he evaded, playing with your legs.

“You did not just pull me out of the department meeting over nothing,” you said with a skeptical look. He avoided your stare, choosing instead to trail invisible lines across your skin.

He’s pouting.

“Channie?” You encouraged.

“…” He did the thing that he typically did when he was thinking about what say. Mouth pursed to the side, eyes moving back and forth unfocused. So you waited until he was ready. “Do you not love me?”

“What!?” Floored is what you were. Especially since you literally just told him you loved him back. But there was a feeling in you that could tell that there was something more to this question. Something that had probably been eating at him if his slumped posture was anything to go by.

“Of course I love you Christopher,” The use of his English name was to solidify just how serious you were. “Why would you think otherwise?”

He tapped your leg as a nervous tick before speaking, “I just…why don’t you wanna move in together?”

Oh. That’s not what you thought he would say.

“This morning I just felt like that’s what it would feel like if we lived in the same place together. That I’d be able to wake up to you by my side, bed head and everything. And my heart just felt so full in that moment.

I understand that you want your independence. It’s one of the many reasons why I love you. But seeing how you are with your co-workers, I don’t know. I guess it scared me in that maybe the reason you don’t want to move in together is cause you’re not sure about us. Which is dumb I know!”

“Oh baby…”

“I know you love me. I know you do, it’s just an insecurity I have to work with,” he continued.

“That’s right, I do love you. So very much Chan. And, for the record, it’s not that I don’t want to move in together. It’s just a matter of affording to break my lease early,” With a smile, you held your hand up to stop him from interrupting you. “Before you start, Mr. Fancypants Rich McGee, no, I don’t want you paying for it. That’s not what our relationship was built on and we’re certainly not gonna start now. I wanted to tell you this this weekend when I go over to your place, but I guess now’s a good time as any, considering. I finally have the amount necessary.”

“Wait…,” the hopeful look in his eyes was so precious to you.

“I can start packing my stuff up to move in with you.”

“Baby!”

Chan quickly climbed down from his sat position, immediately scooping you into his arms. If that didn’t show he was excited, the multitude of kisses was sure another sign of how happy he was at the news. The both of you giggling like you didn’t just have a filthy fuck session in his office.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

As you walked out of Chan’s office, after double and triple checking that you looked decent enough to go back to the meeting room, you realized something immediately. Han Jisung sat red in the face at his desk and was doing everything in his power to avoid looking at the two of you. Which could only mean one thing.

Bang Christopher Chan really did lie about his office being soundproof and his assistant just heard everything that went down.

FUCK!

a/n. This in no way reflects the actual persons involved/based in this fic, nor their actual character. This is purely fiction.

© hippopotamusdreamer, est 2024. all rights reserved.

Taglist:

@elizalabs3

[sorcerersseestars]

LIMERENCE (part I)

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

"I can't stop loving you, no matter how hard I try."

summary: Your long-time friend stirs feelings inside you that you never realized existed. Of course they bubble up in your chest while he’s in the midst of ignoring you and discovering his own possible romance. Your mutual friend thinks she has it all figured out—or does she?

pairing: gojo satoru x gn! reader

fandom: jujutsu kaisen

genre: hanahaki sickness au, angst, hurt/comfort, drama, slow burn!

warnings: mentions of feeling sick, being stonewalled kinda, usage of the word (Y/N) bc Gojo is too fed up for nicknames (in reality idk what else to use 😶), Gojo being an ass (common theme in my fics oops)

word count: 3.6k

a/n: This is the first part to my hanahaki au! I’ve had this in my drafts for the longest time, but never committed to writing it all out until now. This first bit is kinda slow and maybe confusing BUT hopefully I’ll be able to clear it up next chapter. Not proof read very thoroughly; will probably regret later 🫥

part ii part iii

“DON’T YOU THINK you could be a bit nicer to me?” You try, clasping your hands together as you look up at him with an odd smile—a cross between apologetic and playful. You’re joking, or at least half joking. It’s too difficult to be serious with Gojo; his habit of masking emotion with jest must be rubbing off on you.

Only one corner of his mouth raises. “Good one, (Y/N)-chan. As if I didn’t use to pay your bills.”

He doesn’t look at you when he speaks, and he walks away from you without a single glance. You frown and lightly jog a few steps to catch up to him.

“Ah, and I’m forever thankful for that!” You say, cringing at how overly peppy your tone is. “But that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Hmm,” Is all he says. His hands are in his pockets, but he doesn’t carry himself with as much ease as usual—his posture is closed off, angular and tense.

“What I meant was–” You prompt your own answer, as he doesn’t make any move to. “We haven’t seen each other in a while. I know you’ve been really busy lately, so I don’t blame you, but I think we should go out and do something. Could help relieve some work stress too, don’t you think so?”

“Maybe,” He says, the word short yet effective in its delivery. The word was sharp in his mouth, clear annoyance shaping his tongue enough for the word to have a bite to it.

You wince. He never used to be like this. Gojo has been in a state of perpetual mirth—and one could argue levity—for the entirety of your friendship, never taking anything seriously and always looking for opportunities to poke fun at you to half-jokingly glorify himself. His expression has always been infectiously positive—never molded into anything hard or serious.

But, lately, everything you thought you knew about Gojo Satoru has faded away into your memories. He never seeks out your presence anymore, which is polar opposite from your high school days, when he would follow you around and pester you until you’d hang out with him. You actually used to get annoyed at this behavior, but you’re sorely missing it now.

You feel like you know nothing about him these days, only hearing tidbits here and there from your mutual friend Shoko. It stings to know that he obviously talks to her, and quite often at that, seeing she always has new details to spill every other day.

It doesn’t make sense to you: him and Shoko were never particularly close, definitely not nearly as close as you and Gojo were. In fact, she thought of him as particularly annoying in high school, and often swore to you that she would cut all contact with him once they graduated.

Back then, you had rolled your eyes at her antics, never believing that anybody could cut Gojo out of their life, seeing as he simply wouldn’t let them. But how else could you describe what he seems to be doing to you?

You bite your lip nervously. “Satoru? Is there something wrong?”

“Not particularly,” He says with a forced smile that’s screaming for you to shut up. You pretend like it’s not the most disingenuous smile you’ve ever seen smeared on his face.

“Are you sure?” You probe. “I mean…what’s been going on with you these days? We haven’t seen each other in forever, and you don’t seem yourself.”

“Are you sure?”

His lips are quirked up, as they perpetually are, but it’s different this time. It’s mocking. A mocking smirk that’s telling you to face reality. Do you really know him anymore?

You pause in your steps, studying his expression. You can’t see his eyes, but you wish you could. He’s hard to read with that blindfold concealing those powerful eyes of his, but it never used to be a problem. It hurts that you’re now struggling to gauge him when your emotions used to feel like one.

Evidently, you can’t answer his question. Not that he seems to care.

“I’ve really got to get going. Students to teach, curses to kill, all that,” He announces, tone low and apathetic. Bored. “See ya.”

Your breath flutters in your throat as you try to bid him goodbye. You choke on your words and only end up tentatively raising a hand. Before you can wave, his form disappears. A gust of wind greets you in lieu of a proper goodbye.

You stay where you are for a few shocked moments, not even registering the hot tears that leak from the eyes he avoided.

You wander aimlessly around campus for a while, the whole interaction replaying in your head several times over. His “Are you sure?” needles its way into your brain even when you push it away, the words hitting where it hurts every time.

Your feet find themselves taking you to an empty break room – ah, this is the one that has your favorite flavor of tea. You turn the kettle on, then eagerly dig through the tea stash. You file through the individual packets quickly and thoroughly, but to no avail. It’s gone.

With a sigh, you grab a random tea bag and throw it into your mug. Frustrated, you roughly begin pouring the now-boiled water into the mug, but it doesn’t seem that was a good idea. Your hand slips for just a split second, but a sizable splash of boiling water still manages to singe your non-dominant hand. A stream of expletives leaves your mouth, and you instantly cradle your hand to your heart.

More tears appear. At least you have an excuse this time—it fucking hurts.

You trudge to the clinic, feeling quite silly, but also seeking some much-needed relief. And you’re not exactly imagining painkillers or an ice pack—no, there’s something else. Someone else.

You hesitantly knock on the door. You feel stupid, but you really have to see her.

You crack a smile at the creak of the door. Your friend and co-worker Shoko strides out with an air of confidence you wish you held.

“What happened?” She asks calmly, eyes lazily taking in your form.

“Spilled some water from the kettle,” You say lamely. “It hurts.”

That doesn’t really constitute a visit to one of the only reverse-cursed technique users in the school, and you know it. So does she.

“Mmhm,” She raises her eyebrows. “Well, come on in.”

You shuffle in a little sheepishly, not able to meet Shoko’s eyes. Now that you’re here, you start to feel unsure about your own motive—do you really want to discuss this? Won’t it just be embarrassing more than anything else?

You stall a little in your steps as the negative thoughts invade your head. You’re startled to attention by a poke to your side—when you look up, Shoko’s playful smirk fills your vision.

“Come on over to the sink and we’ll put that under some cool running water,” She says, gesturing to your reddened arm.

You cock your head, looking between her and the sink skeptically, “No ice?”

She shakes her head, sticking her tongue out at you a bit, “Nope! Running water for burns.”

You hold up your hands in defeat, smiling, “Whatever Doctor Shoko says.”

“And I do,” She says cheekily. “So get under that water!”

“Aye-aye,” You say with a salute.

She groans, “Ugh. You guys are so annoyingly similar. Hang on a sec, I gotta grab something.”

She turns away before she can see the way your expression drops. The smile is stolen from your face, leaving behind saddened eyes and a slight frown. There’s only one possible person she could be talking about.

You sigh and turn on the faucet—your disheartened sigh morphs into one of great relief as the cold water soothes your burn.

“That better?” Shoko asks upon her return.

You nod, a small smile coming back, “Yeah, thanks Shoko.”

“Is there something else wrong?” She asks, then shakes her head. “No, scratch that. What’s actually wrong?”

You take a deep breath. How are you going to broach this subject? You wait several moments, pondering your exact next words.

“Do you think Gojo is okay?” You finally ask your long-time friend, words coming out almost cautiously.

She eyes you funnily, “Why are you asking me? As if he doesn’t chase you around the school to blab on about himself.”

You smile, but it’s tainted by bitterness.

“Shoko…Gojo hasn’t talked to me for two months,” You admit quietly. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

She stops.

“What?”

You hate hearing the confusion in her voice. You hate the pity that soon fills her eyes.

“He seriously hasn’t,” You affirm, sighing. “I don’t know what I did, or if I did anything, or…or what. I just, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it?”

You sigh. “Of course I have, but he didn’t seem to take my concerns seriously. Or consider them at all. It just seemed like he wanted me to shut up and leave him alone.”

Shoko looks at you curiously, lips quirking as if she has something to say, but no words come out. Is she holding something back?

You take a deep breath, willing the horrible emotion that squeezes your throat away. You look out the window to distract yourself, watching the branches of a sakura sapling swaying in the wind. It looks alone and lost, battered by the relentless wind.

“What’s he been like recently with you?” You finally ask, your gaze still on the tree.

“Normal,” Shoko says. “Annoying as ever. Noisy as ever.”

A cluster of pink petals is ripped from a branch, swirling hopelessly to the ground. When they settle on the ground, you look back to your friend.

“He’s really the same?” You ask weakly.

“Unfortunately,” She says wryly. “Besides, why do you care? We’ve both been trying to get him off our backs since waaay long ago. Sounds like a blessing in disguise.”

“Ah, that’s true,” You admit with a weak chuckle, trying to ignore the way your heart throbs painfully. “But he’s also our friend.”

“Since when? More like a thorn in my side. Maybe he finally got the message,” Shoko smirks. “You should give me instructions for that. I’d have a lot better quality of life, you know.”

You know she’s just joking around with you, but she’s truly just rubbing salt in your wound. Not very ethical for a doctor, even if unintentional.

“Yeah,” You laugh, but it’s an empty sound. “Well, I guess I’ll get going then. Hopefully your next patient gives you an easier time.”

Shoko jokes, “Yeah, this has been my toughest job all week. You fiend.”

Your head is filled with so many questions, all of them growing louder as you walk away from your friend. Your friend who you thought would sympathize with you, but only ended up making you feel worse in the end is acting suspicious. It’s not like you’ve ever wanted to actually cut ties with Gojo, even when he used to pull pranks on you in high school. You craved for a strong friendship with him throughout all his shenanigans.

Why is Shoko acting like you hate Gojo, and what isn’t she telling you?

Before you reach the door, you decide you need to know. You stop abruptly in your tracks.

“Ieiri, you’re not telling me something,” You say softly, not looking back. “Why?”

Shoko sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “You don’t miss anything, do you?”

You say nothing. The door in front of you is tempting—it’s your way out of knowing the truth. Do you really want to know?

You wait tensely for a few seconds, the silence causing nerves to bubble up in your stomach. But when Shoko begins to speak, they go don’t go away.

“He hasn’t really been acting strange around me, but he’s constantly on his phone. Like always. Whenever he comes to chat, he immediately tunes me out and starts texting or loudly takes a call,” She snorts, huffing out an exasperated sigh. “I thought he was just bored and trying to make me feel disrespected as a sort of cruel joke, but I think it’s something else. I think…I think Gojo is interested in someone.”

Your head whips around, disbelief clear in your features. Interested in someone?

“Maybe that’s why he’s been acting weird. I always thought he was crazy for you, so it didn’t cross my mind until now.”

“Crazy for me?” You immediately echo back, voice hollow and confused.

Shoko shakes her head at you, “C’mon, you can’t be that oblivious. He always followed you around like a lost puppy in high school. He never said anything to me about it, but I really thought he would confess any day for years.”

“He did that to everyone…” You shake your head. “You say yourself he bugged you so much.”

She rolls her eyes. “Trust me, it was different.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. Your vision becomes foggy at the edges, reality fizzling out.

“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” You ask. “It’s not like that matters.”

You try to appear uncaring, yet it was a fight to get those words out.

“You’re a sensitive person. ‘Didn’t know how you’d react since Gojo always seemed to chase after your attention, exclusively. But it’s not like it was the other way around—should have known it wasn’t a big deal. It’s not. Guess he’s just growing up.”

“Yeah,” You agree faintly, voice devoid of emotion. Reality is slipping through your numb fingers, the information turning your world into a nightmare. You should have opened the door and ran when you had the chance.

“It’s not,” You say with a saccharine smile, one so sickly sweet that Shoko gets chills. That’s not your usual smile—not one that Shoko has ever seen you wear. “Of course it’s not.”

When you turn on your heel and rush out of her infirmary, Shoko reaches out a hand and her lips part to call after you. It’s uncharacteristic for her—the cold doctor is rarely sentimental or emotionally affected, but she saw something ghastly in that smile of yours.

The slam of the door answers her call. The truth, now imparted, comes to bite her in the ass.

It’s been a few days. You’ve been moping around the school, around your students—trying to cope with the information that you don’t even know is true. You see him across campus sometimes; he’s so easily spotted with his translucent hair and tall frame. Every time, he’s facing away from you, and your eyes fall on the back of his head. Your chest always tightens and you end up turning away, too.

You have ignored the feelings stirring in your chest, not willing to admit something that clearly isn’t reciprocated. It has been working, you suppose, since you haven’t cracked under the mental weight of possibly being in lo—

No, you can’t even think that.

Everything has been as okay as it can. It’s not until you attempt to visit Shoko again to try sort out your feelings, however, that things take a turn for the worse.

Your hand is raised as you prepare to knock on the infirmary door, but you hesitate once you hear muffled voices.

“I don’t know…I didn’t expect it at all.”

That’s Gojo’s voice. That low but self-assured tone is undeniably his.

“Expect what?” Shoko asks, sounding bored.

His reply is so soft that it passes by as just a hiss of air, so quiet that you physically startle at Shoko’s loud reaction.

“No! What? I can’t believe that!” She shouts, laughter quickly following her exclamation.

You shouldn’t be listening—you hadn’t planned to eavesdrop on your two best friends, but for some reason your ear seeks out the wall, as if magnetized.

The next three words uttered still your heart.

“Utahime kissed me,” Gojo admits quietly.

You feel like you can’t breathe. Utahime, who has always despised Gojo even beyond Shoko’s extent. Utahime, who once cried into your chest after Gojo was harsh with her at an exchange event. Utahime, who always persisted that you and Gojo were into each other during high school.

Shoko’s unbelieving chuckle cuts through your thoughts.

Shoko laughs, “Oh, yeah, okay, as if I’d ever believe that.”

There’s silence. Your heart drops at the lack of response—no teasing refute, no playful faux playboy attitude.

Shoko absorbs his unusual silence, finally interpreting his words for what they are.

She gasps loudly, spluttering, “Oh my God, you’re being serious. What?! There’s no way…”

Gojo’s voice is even and deep. “I didn’t lie. She just did it out of nowhere. I didn’t even know how to react, to be honest.”

“So you just stood there?” Shoko snorts, trying to keep up her usual sarcastic persona. “God, you’re insufferable all the way around.”

“I kissed her back,” He breathes out, voice almost weak.

Another long moment of silence ensues. You hold your breath, terrified that your panicked pants will alert them of your presence.

Shoko recovers quickly this time.

“Still insufferable,” She sighs, and you can imagine her shaking her head. “So what now? You like her or something? This is so random.”

“I…I don’t know,” He admits quietly. “I never thought she’d do that, it took me by surprise. I…I think I liked it?”

Your heart shatters. You clutch a hand to your mouth, gagging yourself, forcing back the pained gasp that’s threatening to leave your lips.

“Oh, is that so?” Shoko says drily, but the usual edge to her voice is absent. You can only imagine her expression: contorted with pity and pain, desperately trying to maintain her poker face.

“Yeah,” Gojo reaffirms. “It was nice.”

There’s silence for a few seconds as Shoko takes it all in. Then, “Is she who you’ve always been calling and texting when I’m talking to you? You’re an ass for that, by the way.”

Gojo exhales out a sardonic sniff, “You’re spot on.”

Why are you still listening? You should leave. You shouldn’t be hearing this. Pain blooms in your chest, as if thorns became lodged between your ribs.

“What about (Y/N)?”

You freeze, eyes bulging out of your head.

Gojo sighs, sounding annoyed, “What do you mean?”

“I’m not dumb, Satoru. There was something going on during high school and frankly in the past few years as well. Are you going to deny it?”

He scoffs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Shoko. It was never like that.”

You feel like you’re going to be sick. You shouldn’t—there’s no possible way you’re actually in love with Gojo Satoru, is there?

Fuck. The thought you’ve been trying to avoid all this time has finally firmly inserted itself into your head.

You take off swiftly and immediately, and your footfalls are as light as you can possibly manage. If either of them knew you were here, you wouldn’t be able to handle the shame.

Gojo and Shoko are none the wiser to the immoral action that took place just beyond the door—so when Shoko is ready to clock out and opens the door, the presence of a school ID on the ground is nearly missed. She feels something strange crunch underneath her foot and steps away and glances at the foreign object.

You left in such a hurry that your ID flopped out of your pocket. It lays on the ground, your smiling face staring up at Shoko, who looks on in horror. She immediately knows that you heard everything. She quickly steps back onto your ID, concealing your identity with her foot.

With all the sight of his six eyes, Gojo somehow completely missed Shoko’s strategic maneuvers to erase traces of your presence. He whistles nonchalantly, not having a care in the world, apparently.

In contrast, Shoko’s mind is racing. Her eyes roam around the courtyard, searching for your form. She feels rooted to the spot—will she reveal you if she steps away? She almost forgets that she’s not alone.

“You looking for someone?” Gojo asks.

Shoko stiffens, but forces herself to relax and appear nonchalant. “Ah, I was just wondering if…if (Y/N) would still be around.”

Gojo frowns. “Hm. Not sure. Don’t they usually go home right after they get off?”

“Lately, they’ve been staying back to do paperwork,” She sighs. “Masamichi has really giving them too many missions…How come you don’t know that?”

“Haven’t had the chance to catch up, I guess,” Gojo says evasively, then quickly changes the subject. “Besides, aren’t you the same way? You coming or not? I’ve got better things to do.”

He waves his cell phone around playfully, a smirk widening across his features.

Shoko rolls her eyes, “Go ahead. I’m just going to wait here a bit and see if I can text them and get them over here.”

She hesitates for a second before adding, “Actually, why don’t you wait a sec? We haven’t all seen each other in a bit.”

Gojo immediately stiffens. He scratches the back of his head and says, “Ah, I’m actually sort of on a time crunch. Maybe next time.”

What a lie. Shoko thinks, eyes narrowing subconsciously. What is he up to?

As he trails off into the distance, the gears in Shoko’s head continue to turn. He always, always teleports home after work finishes. So why is he slowly walking around campus, head turning this way and that way as if searching?

And you! Why were you there? Why were you so affected? What is going on in your head—or rather, your heart?

Something strange is going on with her two friends and Shoko is determined to find out what.

next part

credit 🩷:

@kiyaedits - baby pink dividers, @sweetxmelody - cherry blossom divider

*note: taglist open!! comment to be tagged in part 2 :)