#Why We Take Refuge

[buddhistinsightsjourney]

This is an video about taking refuge in Buddhism. It discusses the reasons why people seek refuge and the limitations of worldly refuges.

The article explores the concept of buddhanature and how it relates to taking refuge. Taking refuge in the Three Jewels—the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha—is seen as a way to connect with this buddhanature. The article also explores the concept of the three roots: the guru, the yidam, and the dharma protectors.

Author By Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche

[worstloki]

hold on. serious question that might be stupid & i dont know who else to ask on here. why didn't the asgardians after thor ragnarok just.. go to one of the eight other realms for aid and/or shelter?

Ragnarok didn't really have them consider the other realms and the other realms also didn't play any notable part in the plot/messaging. Presumably Thor wants to go to earth because the Avengers are there or because it's one of the only realms their relation might not be strained with (Jotunheim and Svartalfheim for example may not be ideal to settle on) but I don't think it's ever reasoned for why they went to earth. Maybe Thor initially planned to move them somewhere else but Thanos happened and it became too much trouble to move after years on Earth.

[apilgrimpassingby]

I thought today - the TV show I'd really like to see is one about a medieval monastery.

You could have all kinds of characters: the pious guy who joined because he wanted to serve God, the son born out of wedlock sent there to cover up his parents' shame, the geek who wanted to study Latin but couldn't afford to go into university, the former knight sick of violence and afraid for his soul... Plus monasteries were centres of pilgrimage and places where criminals could take refuge, so we can have a lot of characters who crop up for a few episodes and leave.

Some plotlines I thought of:

Our relics aren't bringing in the pilgrims the way they used to - what do we do?

A women fleeing an abusive marriage has taken shelter in the monastery - how will the brothers respond to having a women in their midst?

One of the monks wants to leave - will the abbot accept or not?

A murderer has taken refuge in the abbey, and the abbot decides to try and save his soul - what will happen?

People are coming to the monastery for food during the famine, but the monastery is itself short of food - how will this be dealt with?

War has broken out between two local lords, and the monks attempt to broker a treaty - will it work?

I've already mentioned some reasons why I think this setting would lend itself to television, but I'd also love to make it for two other reasons:

Get people to understand how weird medieval religion could get, but also that, within its own frame of reference, it was a reasonable and consistent belief system.

Show people that the Middle Ages consisted of more than just muddy people stabbing each other and burning scientists at the stake.

[moodyvoid]

Imagine you and Tomura are out on a mission, when you hear the distinct sound of crying— a baby crying.

You follow the noise and find a baby, lying on top of garbage bags in a dumpster.

You go to pick them up and Tomura stops you, “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks.

“We’re not leaving them here.” You argue, as if he’s stupid.

“You’re not seriously suggesting we take a baby back to the hideout? We’re not babysitters. The league isn’t a place for babies.” He argues back, as if you’re more stupid.

“Tomura, they’re a baby. They’re helpless… defenseless… vulnerable! What if it were you all alone in an alleyway, begging for help?” you ask.

Tomura pauses as he stares at you, his eyes drifting over to the baby, but his mind clearly fixated on something else.

He sees snippets of him walking the streets alone, small, and scared. Begging for someone— anyone— to do something. Like a nightmare, he remembers taking refuge in an alleyway, his tiny hands still covered in dried blood. Why won’t anyone help?—

“Tomura?” You ask, him snapping out of his thoughts. He looks down in his arms, realizing he’s holding the baby.

He quickly places the baby in your arms. “Fine, but don’t come crying to me when you can’t handle playing house anymore.”

—

Cut to hours later, Tomura is sitting with the baby in his lap as he plays Mortal Kombat. “That’s called a Fatality.”

[hihomeghere]

Fakin' it | Arthur Morgan/Reader

Word Count : 3k Summary : After a botched robbery, Arthur and you take refuge in a hotel, hiding from the O'Driscolls outside your door. When they do decide to search for you two, how will you throw them off your track? Warnings/Tags : Enemies to lovers <3, unprotected piv sex, guns, cursing, reader has female gentailia, fingering, one bed, fake marriage

Of course the job that went bad had to be with Arthur. Why Dutch had put you two together was beyond you. Everyone around the gang knew that it was volatile anytime you two were together. But, you were cunning, quick minded in a pinch. Arthur was strong, easily able to take down a man twice his size, not that someone of that caliber came along often. To put it simply, you were the brains, he was the brawn. As much as you hated to admit, you made a good team on jobs. This time however, a simple robbery had turned into dozens of O’driscolls around every corner. You two had barely made it into a hotel unscathed. 

“One room.” Arthur said, setting down some coins on the table top as you watched the door. Your hand resting against your gun in your dress pocket.

“Name?” The man asked with a smile.

“Callahan.” Arthur said looking back at you. “Mr. and Mrs. Callahan.” He said, turning back to the clerk. You heard footsteps outside of the hotel, you turned quickly grabbing Arthur’s arm.

“Sweetheart.” You cooed, internally cringing as you called him by that name. You looked at him with wide eyes, “Come on.” You said with a nervous smile.

“We’re newlyweds, a bit excited if you can’t tell.” He chuckled, turning back to the clerk, his arm wrapping around your waist.

“Of course.” The clerk said with a knowing smile, you wanted to barf as Arthur squeezed your waist. “Up the stairs to the left.” He said, handing Arthur a key.

“Much appreciated.” Arthur said his hand on the small of your back as you two climbed the stairs. As soon as you turned the corner you nearly ran to the door, Arthur slid the key in the lock and turned it, ushering you inside. As soon as the door was closed behind you, he was locking it just as fast. 

Once you got in the room you moved away from Arthur’s side, letting out a sigh as you looked around the room. One bed, of course, you two were acting as a couple.

“Mr. and Mrs. Callahan, really?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you turned to look at Arthur. 

“Less eyes on us if we’re a couple, not cause I wanna play house with you.” He said with a grunt, barely raising his head to look at you. He walked over to the bed, moving to take his boots off.

“Less eyes.” You scoffed, looking around the room, walking over to the window. You pulled the blinds back, peeking out to the streets below. 

“The hell you think you're doing?” Arthur hissed, his hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Looking.” You said glaring up at him. “Is that a crime?”

“Do you want to give away our position?” He growled, his eyes dark.

“I think it’s pretty damn clear we’re in one of these shops, now we have to wait it out until they’re gone.” You said pulling away your arm from his grasp. He let out a deep breath, his jaw clenched as he looked away from you.

“How many are out there?” He asked, holding his hat as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know, maybe a dozen?” You said crossing your arms.

“Dutch said to keep a low profile,” He muttered to himself, “We can’t go out there guns blazing.” He said, setting his hat down on the bedside table. 

“That’s obvious.” You said, shaking your head. He scoffed, looking up at you.

“Are you trying to piss me off, or is that just one of your special talents?” Arthur said glaring at you.

“Oh I have lots of talents.” You say, stepping closer a scowl on your face. 

“If only one of them was keeping your mouth shut.” He growled. 

“God, what is your problem?” You huff looking away from him.

“My problem?” He scoffs getting up from the bed. “You’re my problem." He said, his chest almost touching yours as you looked up at him.

“Feelings mutual.” You huff, glaring up at him. He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as you walked away from him. 

“We’re gonna have to wait it out.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The hell are we gonna do?” You asked throwing your hands up. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna take advantage of this bed.” He said laying back down on the bed, placing his hat over his face. You bit your cheek looking at him as he crossed his legs. He did have a point, the bed looked a whole lot softer than your cot back at camp. You mulled it over for a second before sitting down on the edge of the bed. You unlaced your boots, laying back on the bed. Your eyes quickly drew heavy, the adrenaline of the chase finally wearing off. 

The sun was setting when you woke up, the light slowly disappearing behind the horizon. The room was quiet except for Arthur’s breathing. You sat up in bed, looking over at him. His hat had fallen off his face when he rolled over sometime during his sleep. He looked so peaceful when he slept, it was like seeing a completely different side of him. It’s at this moment you really appreciate how beautiful Arthur truly is. The bridge of his nose is high, broken one too many times. His plump lips parted slightly, like two petals. His sandy brown hair falling over his forehead. 

You wanted to reach out and move it out of his face, but thought better of it. You didn’t want to disturb him and it wasn’t often that you saw him without a furrowed brow. 

Just as you were laying back down you heard heavy footsteps up the stairs. By your guess, four, maybe five men. You sit up quietly, feeling your heart pound against your rib cage. Arthur sprang up in bed as soon as they kicked open the first door. They must have turned right when they went up the stairs. The yell of shock sounded farther down the hall. He turned to you, his eyes wide. He reached for his gun belt on the floor but you stopped him. Your brain was running through all the situations. Four or five men, sure you and Arthur could take them, but that’s not exactly a low profile. 

Against your better judgment you picked the solution with the least amount of bloodshed. You swung your leg over Arthur’s waist.

“The hell are you doing-“ Arthur hissed before you covered his mouth with your hand. Your fingers started working on the buttons of your blouse as you rolled your hips forward. Arthur looked up at you with a wide eyed expression, his bright eyes frantically moving between his gun belt on the floor and the door. His stubble lightly scratched your palm as you held your hand over his mouth, his plump lips almost kissing your palm.

You forced a high pitched moan as you moved your hips faster on the bed, the bedframe hitting the wall. Creating the illusion you two were having sex.

The gears slowly started to turn in Arthur’s mind, his hands gripping your hips as he propelled you faster. The bedframe was now rocking against the wall, as you pulled your arms out of your blouse, leaving your chest bare. Your nipples hardened from the cold air as goosebumps sprung up on your skin. Arthur’s eyes were closed as he turned his head, forcing a low groan. Although you knew his groans were fake, the way his body reacted to your touch was more than real. You kept up with your moans, trying to put on a good enough show.

The door was soon forced open, as two O’Driscolls entered  the room with their guns raised. You scream, Arthur is quick to pull your chest down to his. You were pressed tight against him, his warm hands keeping you flush against him, all of him. His work shirt rubs against your nipples in such a fucking delicious way, it doesn’t help tbe adrenaline coursing through your veins. You can’t see anything, your head buried into Arthur’s neck, his stubble now rubbing against your cheek.

“Get the hell out of here!” Arthur yells, hidden by your upper half.

One of them clears their throat before exiting the room, closing the door behind them. You hold your breath waiting for their footsteps to retreat down the hallway. You let out a sigh of relief as they meet back up with the other men, walking down the stairs.

Hesitantly Arthur moves his hands off your back, you sit up covering your breasts with your arms. Arthur, however, was staring up towards the ceiling. His jaw clenched as he avoided looking at you.

You moved off of his waist, grabbing your blouse before slipping your arms through the sleeves. You buttoned it up, swallowing thickly as Arthur cleared his throat. 

“Now uh-“ Arthur said letting out a sigh, “I want you to know that I didn’t see nothin’.” The bed whines slightly as he stands up. 

“I know you felt something.” You said, shaking your head as you blush from head to toe. 

“Now-“ Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair as you turned to face him, his eyes flicking around the room before settling at your feet as he held up his hand. “We can just pretend this never happened, it was a matter of life and death.”

“I understand that.” You looked at him, fully looked at him. His gaze was low, his chest rising and falling quickly, his cheeks flushed. God, he looks wrecked.

Your eyes trailed over his body as he stood there, his hand on his hip as he popped his knee out. Your eyes moved down further, almost popping out of your head as you see how painfully hard he is pressed against his pants. 

“Are you-“ The words fall out of your mouth before you can think to stop them.

“Jesus.” Arthur sighed looking down, his hand rubbing his eyebrows.

“You are.” A nervous chuckle leaves your mouth as your eyes trailed up and down his body. You felt heat begin to spread between your thighs as he met your eyes. Your heart is still pounding against your rib cage from the encounter with the O’Driscolls. 

“I’m-“ He started throwing his hands up, “I’m sorry, alright but you can’t expect me- I’m only a man.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Nothing to be ashamed-“ He cut you off, shaking his head, “There is plenty to be ashamed of, I shouldn’t be getting so… so worked up over you.” He said motioning to you. You couldn’t help that you were also getting worked up, you subtly rubbed your thighs together. Trying to get any friction where you needed it most. Heat bloomed in your stomach as the tension in the room only got worse. He furrowed his brows, studying you.

“Wait,” He chuckled, shaking his head, “You feel it too.” He said, crossing his arms.

You scoffed, looking off to the side. “You wish.” You said, hating the slight tremor in your voice. Arthur strode across the room, stopping in front of you. He reached towards you, tilting your chin so you would have to look at him. 

“Tell me you don’t want this.” He said softly, his other arm encircling your waist pulling you flush against him. You stayed silent, looking up into his blue eyes. Slowly a smirk worked its way onto his face, “That’s what I thought.” He chuckled, cupping your cheek. He leaned forward brushing his nose against yours. Giving you the option to pull away if you wanted, his eyes softening as he looked into yours. You took the plunge, capturing his lips against your own as you threaded your fingers through his hair.

A groan rumbled through his chest as his hand tightened around your waist. You felt dizzy as his lips moved against yours, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. You opened your mouth allowing his access as he pressed into you deeper. He rubbed himself against you, his hips pressed against your lower belly. 

You pulled away, breathing hard as you looked up at him. His face was flushed, his mouth parted slightly as his chest rose and fell rapidly. You unbuttoned your blouse for the second time, just as feverishly as the first time, but now for a completely different reason. Arthur followed your lead, pushing his own suspenders down, his skillful fingers unbuttoning his own shirt. His eyes returned to your body as he ripped his shirt off of his shoulders, settling onto your breasts. He stared down at you, an almost predatory expression on his face. He closed the distance between you, his hand wrapping around your waist as the other kneaded your breast. You let out a soft gasp, which quickly turned to a moan as he ran his thumb over your perk nipple. 

“Arthur.” He stared down at you, his eyes darkening as he watched you shiver against him. He flipped you around, his hand pressing you down onto the bed. His other hand flipped your skirts up, before pulling down your underclothes. He let out a soft groan as his eyes connected with your almost dripping pussy.

“This all for me?” He cooed, swiping his finger through your folds. You gasped, nodding as your hands gripped the quilt. 

“Yes.” You breathed, “Yes all for you.”

“Good girl.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he sunk a finger into your heat. You gasped as he slowly started pumping his finger inside of you. He leaned over you, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Yeah you like that don’t you?” He said nibbling on your earlobe. Your breath hitched in your throat as he added another finger, scissoring them inside your walls.

“Fuck Arthur.” You melwed, pressing your forehead against the slightly scratchy quilt underneath you. “I need you.” You huffed, your walls clenching around his fingers.

“I’m gettin’ there.” He chuckled, pulling his finger out of you, you sighed at the loss. You could hear the rustling of clothing behind you, the distinctive metal on metal as you pulled off his belt. His warm calloused hands ran up your backside, gently spreading you before the head of his cock met your entrance. 

Jesus Christ he was big. 

He spit into his palm, pulling away as he spread his spit over the head of his cock. 

“What the hell is taking so long?” You asked impatiently, turning your head to look at him. His eyes met yours, a wicked grin on his face as he forcefully shoved his cock through your folds. It was like all the air had been knocked out of your lungs as you were propelled forward onto the bed. His hands pulled your hips back and speared you onto his dick. 

“Arthur!” You yelped, your fingers gripping the quilt as he thrust his pelvis flush to yours. 

“Christ woman.” He groaned, laying his forehead against your bare back. You moan as he pulls his hips back before thrusting back into you. “You sound even better when you ain’t faking it.” You can feel the chuckle rumble through his chest more than you can hear it as he speaks. 

“Arthur, Jesus." You pant, almost drooling over the way his cock hits that spot inside you over and over again. 

“Mmm.” He moans, tight lipped as he tilts his head back. You push back against him, meeting every one of his thrusts “Yeah, atta girl.” His praise only spurred you on, your thighs shaking as you pushed your ass against his pelvis. “You close?” He whispered, his warm hand moving down your thigh between your legs. His thumb circling your clit was enough to send you over the edge. You were grateful your upper half was supported by the plush bed as your legs gave out under you. A high pitched moan worked its way out of your chest as you all but collapsed on the bed. Your walls fluttered around him, milking his cock. 

“Shit.” He panted his breath fanning on your back as his forearms caged you in, his hips stuttering as he released his seed inside you. He groaned, resting his forehead against your back as he collapsed on you. His sweaty chest sticking against your back. He pulled out of you, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He whispered. 

“S’okay.” You said breathing hard, his cum seeping down your thighs. He kissed down your spine, his hand lovingly squeezing your hips. 

He grabbed a towel from the dresser, cleaning your thighs off. 

“Who would have thought you’d known about aftercare.” You chuckle softly, your heart rate slowly coming back to normal.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me sweetheart.” He huffs, a small smirk on his face as he tucked himself back into his pants. He reached down, pulling your bloomers back up over your hips. 

“Oh yeah?” You chuckled, grabbing your blouse as he grabbed his shirt off the floor.

“Yeah, Mrs. Callahan.” He smirked walking towards you, buttoning his shirt as he stood in front of you. You rolled your eyes, buttoning your blouse. He wrapped his hand around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.” He said, his hand trailing down your jaw. 

“Alright, fine. Mr. Callahan.” You huffed, a blush covering your cheeks as you rested your hands against his broad chest. 

“Next time,” He tightened his grip on your hips, his lips against your ear, “You’re riding me.”

[samarsh1l]

🚨🚨 dangerous

💔 My heart and my family's heart were broken when our tents were destroyed and our spirits were shattered when our belongings were flooded💔

Dear good people, I am writing to you with pain and hope. We lost our tent, which was our last refuge after losing our home. 🌪️ Strong winds swept everything away, leaving us without a roof or cover to protect us from the harsh winter. ❄️

My child and my family are now facing the bitter cold without bedding or blankets, and we are unable to provide even the basics for a decent life.

Our urgent needs and how to use the requested amount (5000 euros):

1. Two tents: 2000 euros

- One tent for each family, strong and weather-resistant, to provide shelter and protect my children from the bitter cold.

2. Simple bathroom: 1000 euros

- To meet our basic needs and restore some of our dignity.

3. Bed covers and blankets: 1200 euros

- To provide warmth to our children and the elderly during the harsh winter nights.

4. Winter clothes: 800 euros

- Includes jackets, shoes and wool socks to protect my family from the cold.

Total: 5000 euros only.

❓ Why are we contacting you?

We have exhausted all our resources, and everything we have previously collected has been spent on basic needs. Today, we ask you to stand with us, because we believe that the goodness in your hearts will reach us. ❤️

🤝How can you help?

Your donation, no matter how small, means safety, warmth and life to us. 🕊️ Every euro can be the difference between a harsh and cold night and a smile on the faces of my child and my family as they feel safe.

🙏 Please support my child and my family and help us get through this ordeal.

✅Verified by:

📌 @90-ghost

📌 @gazavetters, #53

📌 @gaza-eviction-funds (@el-shab-hussein - @nabuls)"

Tagging for reach.

@timetravellingkitty @briarhips @vakarians-girl @mahoushojoe @rhubarbspring @schoolhatergirl @transmutationist @sawasawako @ot3 @aces-and-addidas @terroristic-threats @commissions4aid-international @international-network @wellwaterhysteria @deepspaceboytoy @junglejim4322 @kibumkim @neechees @mangocheesecakes @kyra45 @tbitten @tortiefrancis @toiletpotato @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @aristotels @komsomolka @neptunerings @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @heritageposts @malcriada @palestinegenocide @sar-soor @feluka @tortiefrancis @flower-tea-fairies @tsaricides @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @visenyasdragon @belleandsaintsebastian @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish @theropoda @4ft10tvlandfangirl @queerstudiesnatural @northgazaupdates2 @skatezophrenic @awetistic-things @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @nabulsi

[st4rpiece]

needing space after an argument pt. 2

SFW

characters: luffy, zoro, usopp, sanji x reader summary: they earn your forgiveness CW: groveling, making up, fluff, and over 600 words each

pt. 1 | pt. 2

────────────────────₊˚.༄

Monkey D. Luffy

Luffy wasn’t himself. It was the first thing everyone noticed after you left the ship. His laughter, usually loud and contagious, was quieter, forced. Mealtimes felt emptier, and the energy on the Sunny had shifted. He tried to act like nothing was wrong, but even the crew could see the shadow of regret lingering in his eyes.  

But now, here he was, standing in front of you in the quiet port town where you’d taken refuge after leaving the crew. His usual confidence was gone, replaced by a desperate determination.  

“I’m sorry,” he said for what must have been the tenth time. His voice was raw, almost breaking. “I didn’t mean it. I shouldn’t have told you to leave. I was stupid.”  

You stood with your arms crossed, your expression guarded. Seeing Luffy like this—so uncharacteristically vulnerable—caught you off guard, but the sting of his words still lingered, fresh and sharp.  

“Luffy, you can’t just say whatever you want when you’re mad and expect everything to go back to normal,” you said, your voice steady but tinged with exhaustion. “You told me to leave. So I did.”  

“I didn’t mean it,” he repeated, stepping closer but stopping just short of touching you. “I was mad and didn’t think. I... I need you on the ship. Not just because I want you there, but because you’re part of the crew. You’re important to us all and i shouldn’t have made you feel otherwise.”  

You searched his face, his big, earnest eyes pleading with you. You could see the regret there, the weight of his mistake hanging heavy on his shoulders. For a moment, your resolve wavered, but you quickly shook your head.  

“I can’t just come back because you say you’re sorry, Luffy. What happens the next time we fight? Are you going to tell me to leave again?”  

“No!” he blurted out, shaking his head vehemently. “No, I swear. I’ll never say anything like that again.”  

You frowned, unsure what to make of his declaration. “Luffy, words aren’t enough.”  

He nodded, his straw hat shadowing his eyes for a moment before he looked up at you with renewed determination. “Then I’ll show you. Whatever it takes.”  

True to his word, Luffy didn’t give up. He didn’t force you to return to the ship, but he didn’t leave the island either. Every day, he showed up—whether it was to bring you a freshly caught fish for dinner, fix something around the small inn you were staying at, or simply sit outside and wait in silence. He didn’t push, didn’t demand, but his presence was constant.  

When the ship needed supplies, he was the first to volunteer, taking on tasks he’d usually leave to someone else. The crew later told you how he’d started taking more responsibility, trying to step up as a better leader.  

Even when you didn’t speak to him, he never faltered. Every action, every small gesture, was his way of showing you how much he regretted his words.  

One evening, you found Luffy sitting on the dock, staring out at the ocean with his straw hat resting in his lap. He looked smaller somehow, as though the weight of his regret had worn him down.  

When he noticed you approaching, he stood up immediately, his expression shifting from surprise to cautious hope.  

“Why do you keep doing this?” you asked, crossing your arms.  

“Because I was wrong,” he said without hesitation. “Because I hurt you, and I have to make it right. Even if you never come back, I’ll keep trying. I don’t care how long it takes.”  

His sincerity stopped you in your tracks. He wasn’t making excuses, wasn’t brushing over your feelings like they didn’t matter. He had made changes—small ones, but noticeable—and for the first time, you truly believed he understood the gravity of what he’d done.  

You sighed, letting the silence linger before speaking. “Luffy... I’ll come back.”  

His eyes lit up with hope, his lips parting as though he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.  

“But,” you continued, holding up a finger, “this only works if things stay different. I’m not going back just to deal with the same problems again. I need to know you’re taking this seriously.”  

“I swear!” he said immediately, his voice brimming with determination. “I swear that things will be different. A good different. No more reckless fights for selfish reasons or saying things I don’t mean, I promise.”  

You studied him for a long moment, the sincerity and determination in his eyes unmistakable. Finally, you allowed a small smile to tug at the corners of your lips. “Alright, Lu.”  

Relief washed over his face as he heard the familiar nickname, and for the first time in weeks, you saw his grin return, bright and full of life.  

"I missed you so much, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion and certainty, as he wrapped his arms around you.

The comforting warmth of his embrace, felt like home—safe, secure, and exactly where you wanted to be.

Roronoa Zoro

Zoro wasn’t one to grovel. Stubborn and prideful as he was, apologies didn’t come easy for him. But as he sat alone on the Sunny’s deck, replaying his words from the fight, regret gnawed at him like a dull blade.  

The memory of your face—shocked, hurt, and then resigned—kept flashing in his mind. He hadn’t just lashed out; he’d cut deep. You were trying to help, and he’d thrown it back at you, calling you controlling and annoying when you didn’t deserve it.  

He groaned, pressing his palms against his face. He hated how small he felt for failing to show up to the dates you’d so carefully planned, how your suggestion—simple and kind—had poked at an insecurity he didn’t want to face. And now, because of his pride, he’d pushed you away.  

For days, you’d been distant, giving him space, but that only made the guilt worse. He needed to fix this.  

You were sitting on a quiet hillside overlooking the ocean when Zoro found you. The breeze tugged at your clothes, and you looked peaceful—too peaceful, considering how much turmoil you’d left him in.  

“Hey,” he called softly, his voice unusually hesitant.  

You glanced at him, surprised to see the normally stoic swordsman looking... sheepish. He stood awkwardly a few feet away, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.  

“What is it, Zoro?” you asked, your tone calm but distant.  

He swallowed hard, his fingers twitching at his sides before he took a step closer. “I wanted to apologize.”  

That caught your attention. Your brows lifted in mild surprise, but you said nothing, waiting for him to continue.  

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” he said, his voice low and gruff, but steady. “You weren’t being controlling or annoying. You were just... trying to help.” He exhaled heavily as if forcing the words out of himself. “And I was an idiot.”  

You blinked, his sincerity throwing you off guard. “Zoro—”  

“Let me finish, please,” he interrupted, his eyes meeting yours for the first time. There was something raw in his gaze—an uncharacteristic vulnerability. “I’ve been thinking about it, and... I hate that I’m always late. I hate knowing you’re waiting for me while I’m stuck wandering around like an idiot who can’t follow a simple route. It’s embarrassing.”  

Your expression softened, but you stayed quiet, letting him speak.  

“When you suggested we go together, I know it wasn’t because you thought I was useless,” he continued, his voice tightening. “But that’s how it made me feel. Like I wasn’t good enough to get it right on my own. And instead of dealing with that, I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have done that.”  

He took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “But I don’t think you’re controlling or annoying. You’re the most patient and understanding person for putting up with me. So you deserve better and I want to be that.”  

The sincerity in his voice was almost overwhelming, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. He wasn’t just saying the words—he meant them.  

“I know I can’t just say sorry and expect everything to go back to normal,” he added, glancing away briefly before meeting your gaze again. “So, please baby just… give me a chance to make it right.”  

Your lips parted in surprise. Zoro wasn’t the type to take the initiative when it came to things like this, but the determination in his eyes was unmistakable.  

After a long pause, you let out a soft sigh, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “One last chance.”  

He nodded, relief flashing across his face, but there was also a quiet resolve in his expression. This wasn’t just a promise—it was a vow.  

The next time you guys went on a date, Zoro was ready. He showed up early, finally getting the chance to wait on you. He led you to a quiet clearing overlooking the sea, a picnic already set up with food he’d personally asked Sanji to help him prepare.  

The effort was clear in every little detail, from the way he chose the spot (easily accessible, no chance to get lost) to the careful decorations and crafts you mentioned liking/wanting to try. Showing that despite his stoic nature, he was listening to you during previous dates. Even now as you spoke, he would chime in at just the right moments.  

It wasn’t perfect—he stumbled over a few of his words and complained when a seagull tried to swipe the food—but it was Zoro, trying in his own way. And that meant everything.  

By the time the date ended, you leaned back on the blanket, gazing up at the stars, feeling closer to him than ever before. When he reached for your hand, you let him, squeezing it gently.  

Zoro glanced down at your intertwined fingers, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His gaze softened, and he took a deep breath before speaking. “I know you agreed to give me another chance, but I need to know if you’re still interested in giving me that chance.”

Your heart softened at the rare vulnerability in his voice. You turned to meet his eyes, and they were steady, full of quiet determination.  

A soft smile tugged at your lips, and you leaned into him as the waves crashed gently in the distance. For a man of few words, Zoro was surprisingly good at them.

“Well,” you began, tilting your head with a teasing glint in your eye, “that depends. Are you going to keep being so dramatic about it?” You bit back a laugh as you watched the tips of his ears turn red, his expression shifting into a familiar scowl.

“Tch, not being dramatic,” he grumbled, looking away, but the redness in his ears betrayed him.

You chuckled softly and squeezed his hand, drawing his attention back to you. “I was being serious about giving you that second chance,” you said warmly. His shoulders relaxed slightly, and the tension in his jaw eased.

“But,” you continued, your tone more firm, “next time something like this happens, promise that you’ll communicate it properly. Okay? No more bottling things up.”

Zoro stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before nodding once. “You have my word.” His voice was low but steady, carrying the weight of his promise.

“Good.” You smiled, squeezing his hand again as a soft breeze brushed past, carrying with it the sound of the waves.

God Usopp

The day had been quiet, almost too quiet, and the silence weighed heavy between you and Usopp. Since your argument, things haven’t been the same. You still spoke, but the words felt hollow, and the laughter you once shared now seemed distant and forced. He noticed it all—the way your smile never quite reached your eyes, the strain in your voice when you tried to act like nothing was wrong.  

And it tore him apart.  

Usopp sat on the deck after dinner, absentmindedly fiddling with a half-finished invention. His fingers moved on instinct, but his thoughts were stuck on your last conversation. He hated himself for the way he’d lashed out, for the way he’d let his insecurities push you away.  

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sea in shades of orange and pink, he made up his mind. He couldn’t let this fester any longer.  

When you stepped onto the deck for some air, Usopp hesitated, watching you from a distance. Finally, he stood, his hands clenching at his sides as he approached you.  

“Hey,” he called softly.  

You turned, surprised to see him. “Oh, hey.” Your voice was casual, but your guarded expression told him you were bracing for something.  

“Can we talk?” he asked, his tone uncharacteristically serious.  

You nodded, following him to a quieter spot on the ship where the others couldn’t overhear. The soft sound of the waves filled the silence as Usopp struggled to find the right words.  

“I’ve been... thinking,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “About what I said. About the fight.” He looked down, unable to meet your gaze. Your brows furrowed, but you stayed quiet, giving him the space to explain.

“I know you don’t see me as weak,” he continued, his voice growing tight. “But hearing you scream for him... it made me feel useless.” He exhaled sharply, his hand tightening around the railing. “And I hate feeling like that. I know I’m not like Luffy, Zoro, or Sanji. I’m not the guy who can punch through walls or take down ten enemies at once, but... I at least want to be someone you can count on. Someone you can feel protected with.”

He paused, his words faltering slightly. “But instead of talking to you about it, I projected my insecurities onto you, and made it seem like you were wrong for asking our friends for help. For that, I’m sorry.”

The vulnerability in his words hit you hard, and guilt pooled in your chest. “Baby...” you started, your voice soft. “I’m sorry, too. I never meant to make you feel that way.” You stepped closer, resting a hand on his arm. “But you are someone I can count on. Someone who’s saved my ass more times than I can count. Your strength may not look like theirs, but it’s just as important.”

He finally looked at you, his eyes wide, searching for any trace of doubt. “You... you really mean that?”

“Heck yeah, I do,” you said without hesitation. “I trust you, Usopp. I always have.”

A small, hesitant smile tugged at his lips, and he let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through him. “Thanks... I needed to hear that," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

After a moment, he straightened and rubbed the back of his head, suddenly looking sheepish. “Actually, uh, there’s something I’ve been working on. For you. I wanted to make something that could help you in a fight.”  

Your brows lifted in surprise. “Really? What is it?”  

Grinning now, Usopp reached into his bag and pulled out a small, compact gadget. “It’s not finished yet, but it’s kind of like a smoke bomb, but better. It creates a flash of light to blind enemies and a smoke screen to cover your escape. I thought... you know, it might come in handy.”  

You took the gadget from him, turning it over in your hands. “Usopp, this is amazing.”  

“Yeah, well,” he said, scratching his cheek, his grin turning bashful. “I wanted to make sure you had another thing to keep you safe. In case no one else is around.”  

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. “Thank you, Usopp. I mean it.”  

He relaxed then, the tension between you finally melting away. “I’ll finish it soon,” he promised, his confidence returning. “And who knows? Maybe I’ll come up with even more stuff for you with full bragging rights.”  

"Thanks, now I can let everyone know just how my amazing boyfriend is," you laughed—genuinely this time—and Usopp’s chest swelled with pride. He knew he still had work to do, but for now, the weight of your fight had lifted, and the bond between you felt stronger than ever.  

Vinesmoke Sanji

Sanji stood alone on the deck, the moonlight casting a silver glow over his slumped figure. He leaned against the railing, a cigarette burning low between his fingers, though he hadn’t taken a drag in minutes. His mind replayed every moment of your relationship—the laughter, the stolen glances, the warmth of your touch. And then, inevitably, it would circle back to the breakup.  

He’d failed you. The person who mattered more to him than anyone else in the world. His actions—so thoughtless, so wrapped in habit—had made you feel second to strangers. The realization haunted him, clawing at his chest.  

Sanji thought of groveling, of falling to his knees and begging you to take him back, but he knew you too well. That would only push you further away. You were someone who needed actions, not words, and he knew his words had already failed you. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to give up. You were his person, his muse, his everything. How could he possibly accept a life without you in it?  

So he did the only thing he could. He began to show you through his actions.  

The change was immediate. The next time the ship docked at an island, Sanji didn’t so much as glance at the women who usually flocked to him. When they batted their lashes and called out for his attention, he brushed them off politely and kept his focus on his task. His compliments, once scattered freely to strangers, were now reserved only for you. Even when you ignored him, his words never wavered—soft, sincere, and meant only for you.  

In battle, Sanji was more relentless than ever. But his priority was always your safety, stepping in before danger could reach you, even if it meant taking a hit himself. When the crew sat down for meals, he made sure your favorite dishes were prepared just the way you liked them, his eyes flicking to your face to see if you’d noticed.  

And when he thought you weren’t looking, he’d linger nearby, silently watching you. There was a sadness in his gaze as he admired the person he’d once had the privilege of holding close. You saw him sometimes, hovering at a distance, and though you tried to ignore it, part of you couldn’t deny the pang in your chest. You still had feelings for him—of course you did. But you couldn’t settle for someone who had once made you doubt your place in their life.  

Weeks passed, and Sanji’s quiet devotion didn’t falter. Even now as he stood near the railing, waiting for you, his hands slightly trembling. He had spent all day preparing for this moment, and now the weight of his plan felt heavier than ever.  

When you finally stepped out onto the deck, he straightened immediately, smoothing his suit jacket with nervous fingers. "Hey," he called softly, his voice careful, like he was afraid of scaring you off.  

"Hey," you replied, your tone hesitant but curious. He’d been walking on eggshells around you for weeks, and now this—an invitation for "something special" without much detail. Against your better judgment, you’d said yes, curiosity getting the better of you.  

He smiled faintly, stepping toward you. "I, uh, thought we could spend the evening together. Just... talk."  

You raised a brow. "Talk?"  

He nodded, motioning for you to follow him. "Come on. I’ve got something to show you."  

Despite the uncertainty in your chest, you followed him across the deck, and your eyes widened when he led you to a corner of the ship bathed in soft, golden light from lanterns he had strung up. A blanket was spread out neatly on the deck, adorned with a small basket, plates of your favorite snacks, and a bottle of your favorite drink.  

"Sanji..." you murmured, taken aback.  

"I know it’s not much," he said quickly, scratching the back of his neck. "But I wanted to do something for you. Something simple. Something that doesn’t involve me screwing it up."  

You blinked, your hesitation softening slightly at his earnestness. "You didn’t have to go through all this trouble."  

"I did," he countered, his voice firm but warm. "I needed to."  

He gestured for you to sit, and after a moment’s pause, you did, settling down on the blanket. Sanji sat across from you, his hands fidgeting in his lap.  

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet hum of the ship filling the space between you. Finally, Sanji took a deep breath and looked at you, his expression more serious than you’d seen in a long time.  

"My love," he began, "I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since... since we broke up. And I just... I need you to know how sorry I am."  

You looked away, unsure how to respond, but he continued.  

"I wasn’t the boyfriend you deserved," he admitted, his voice low. "I made you feel like you had to compete for my attention, and that’s unforgivable. You should’ve never felt like anything less than the most important person in my life. That’s on me."  

His gaze was unwavering as he spoke, and you couldn’t help but feel the sincerity in his words.  

"I still have feelings for you," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I never stopped. And I don’t expect you to forgive me overnight, or even to trust me again right away. But I need you to know that I’ve changed. I’m changing. And I’ll do anything to prove it to you."  

You stared at him, his words hitting you harder than you expected. Sanji was always smooth with his words, but this was different. There was no charm, no performative flair—just raw honesty.  

"Sanji..." you started, your voice faltering. You swallowed hard, your hands gripping the edge of the blanket. "I... I still have feelings for you too. But..."  

"But you don’t trust me," he finished for you, his tone understanding rather than hurt.  

You nodded. "It’s not that I don’t want to. I just... I’m scared of getting hurt again."  

He reached across the blanket, his hand stopping just short of yours. "I understand," he said softly. "And I don’t blame you. I don’t want you to rush into anything you’re not ready for. If we have to take things slow, then that’s what we’ll do. I’ll show you, not just with words but with actions, that you’re the only one in my heart."  

His hand lingered near yours, and after a moment, you tentatively placed your hand over his. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, and you looked up to meet his gaze.  

"Okay," you said quietly. "We can try. But slow, Sanji. No rushing, no grand gestures to win me over. Just... be honest with me."  

A smile broke across his face, softer and more genuine than any you’d seen in weeks. "Slow it is," he promised.  

For the first time in what felt like forever, the tension between you eased. You still had a long way to go, but as you sat there, sharing a quiet meal under the lantern light, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, things could work out.  

───────────────────₊˚.༄

One Piece Masterlist

hey…I was supposed to post this yesterday but I ended up working a double 😭.

[this is lightly edited]

anyways I saw a couple people asking about a tag list ngl i don’t know shit about that 😭😭 but hopefully this finds you !!

and for the op women/queer smau I will be posting that soon as well but I got a really cute idea from anon yesterday and I want to start on that first.

[willowed-wisp]

apocalypse sex [ könig ]

You are in Austria when the zombie apocalypse strikes- you and a pretty blue eyed stranger called König aim to survive together

You didn’t remember how it went down, that crashed feeling piling onto you was all that could be mustered… the excruciating pain which followed.

Left in the street to die. But you weren’t dead, if only in the days to come. The early days of the apocalypse.

Glad to be in a bed, better than the cobblestone streets you’d been dumped on. Vague snippets filtered through, light eyes furrowed with unneeded worry- arms easily cradling you. That’s when slumber betrayed you. Probably whose bed you found yourself in.

Incoherent words spilled from a masculine voice, surprisingly gentle in your ears. Yet, you couldn’t understand what the man was saying, “I don’t understand, I’m sorry…”

“I said, I’m glad you’re awake… you weren’t well.” Not feeling ‘well’ either, but able to move. Though when you did, a hand rested on your shoulder and you met his face… the same kind eyes in your hazed dream. Something so young about a face that had seen too many atrocities. “Why would someone harm British national?” He must have seen your ID, you couldn’t blame him.

You laughed the nerves away, “I was speaking to the wrong guy, apparently…” The man didn’t laugh, not even cracking a smile. You wondered if he actually could look anything but worried on the verge of tears. “I’ll be on my way… I don’t want to be a nuisance.” Everywhere ached but you’d had worse, a police officer by trade in London. That’s why when this mountain of a man blocked your way, you reached for the imaginary gun you had been specially trained to you in unforeseen situations.

“It’s not safe out there,”

“To me, it doesn’t feel safe in here…” That’s only when you noticed the static on the television huddled in the corner. Strange… you were in Vienna, there must have been service. That doomed look on his face told you as much, “How long was I asleep for?”

“A day…”

“And what’s happened in that day?” Peeking out the window, fire consumed some of the city while trash scattered the streets. Ignoring the people walking. “Rioting?”

He shook his head, “A weapon was released… infecting anyone by the bloodstream.” It clicked.

“Zombies?” You sounded much too nonchalant… that’s why you were in Vienna, investigating reports for HQ. You unfortunately rubbed people up the wrong way in Austria. “Fuck… we need to get moving…” He watched you walk across the room, out to the living area of his apartment. It was bare, lifeless as if he was never there on the frequent. “I never asked your name. I’m Y/N.”

You sat on the sofa while he loomed, “They call me ‘König’,”

“Who’s they? You’re friends?”

He looked out of the window. Hung up on one detail. “You’re taking this zombie problem too well, officer…” He was too observant for his own good.

“Who are you, ‘King’?” You were smarter than you looked… he admired that in an adversary.

Something in his eyes toyed with you, a buzz of some kind. “I’m your friend, we’re going to need each other to survive out there…”

That you agreed on.

You laughed in his face, “You really want to finish unsigned paperwork now?”

“I need to get to my work… they have things we’re going to need.”

When you arrived, it was burned to the ground. “König, we need to go.” It had all moved so fast, those first weeks. Luckily both of you able to handle yourselves, what you really needed to were guns… to no avail.

König drove most of the time, the only time he looked at peace. You hadn’t really spoke much, always having your eyes wide open for potential threats. But in the countryside, where very little people inhabited- you could exhale properly for the first time.

Especially when you found a possible refuge. Passing by a lake- you saw an island out in the clear waters and on the tuft of green in the turquoise glimmer, you spotted a cabin. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“A decent nights sleep?” It didn’t take long to find a rowing boat on the dock your side of the lake. Both equally doing your work, loading up any supplies you had acquired on the way. Tinned food, bottles onto of bottle of water. Luckily König was a big guy… and you couldn’t stop watching him in that previous week.

He had saved your life with an axe in the grocery store, it seemed to be his preferred weapon choice. Ever since, you couldn’t stop the wondering.

The settlement looked like a holiday outlet, it was out of the way of civilisation and had its own livestock on the stretch of island behind your viewpoint on ‘mainland’. Cows, chickens… it was there. Luckily you watched your farming programmes…

König did the security sweep of the two story property himself, deeming it clear. “Still has electricity…” He marvelled.

“There’s a wind turbine out back and solar panels on the roof… these guys were ready for an apocalypse…” Head up looking at the haven you had uncovered, not paying mind… crashing into the body beside you. His hands held the back of your head and your the base of your back. In an ode to keep you upright.

He made you feel incredibly small, “Gotta be careful, kleine dame…” You almost blushed at his handsome smile, eyes shining down on you.

That night you sat by the fire, in the cozy cabin. Having eaten soup beforehand… life couldn’t be too bad like that. Huddled under a blanket, too preoccupied staring at the warm lit visage of the man who had saved your life more than once. Before he peered back in you, a lopsided grin on his lips

“Doors locked?” You asked before heading to bed… a nice comfortable bed instead of the inside of that crappy Peugeot you’d picked up along the way.

He hummed a ‘yes��� to you. All power off, all windows boarded up. “The people who lived here had an eye for security systems…” How he knew the code was beyond you but you’re pretty sure he said he’d grown up nearby and fished the lake with his grandfather. You shrugged it off.

Going downstairs you noticed the pictures hanging up, on the second floor landing. A remarkably tall boy stood with his grandparents- catching his first fish… this was König’s place…

You stepped to the room he’d settled in for the night, only to find him dripping wet from a shower. Only in a towel hung around his hips, “I’m sorry, I should’ve knocked!” Before darting out of the room… too focused on the rippled flesh of his abdomen rather than the colours of the walls. You checked on the livestock, naming each of them in your head. Getting mixed around every time they moved.

A hand grazed your hip for a split second, “This was your grandparent’s cabin, wasn’t it?” He gave a nod. “And you’re the guy with good tastes in security systems?”

He seemed trapped in his own thoughts, “I knew it was safe here, we’d have everything we needed… and yeah I’m the security guy-,” You didn’t care, hands placed on his scarred forearms- craning your neck up, kissing König. Just a small token of your growing affection. He tasted like sea salt and smelled like ginger and sandalwood. “Damn, you beat me to it…”

A hand pressed against what felt like rock but was in fact his chest, “We’ve got many more of those to come…” Not helping the purr in your voice, sultry to a fault. All completely intentional.

Though, something told you he’d have trouble initiating anything.

You were truly mistaken.

That night, nails dug as fingers wrenched in his growing out dirty blonde hair. Tongue riveted along your folds, watching him work before he flicked the sweet spots you didn’t even know existed. That had your head against the dining table, toes curling on the edge. Fingers added, corkscrewing in and out of your wet pussy had you whimpering. Only able to get part of his name out.

His hands wrapped around your ankles, propping onto his shoulders. Bending your legs so your knees were at your waist, mouth invading deeper. Kissing and marking his territory, careless moans thrown into the void. Curses tossed out, fingers teasing your bud while he devoured.

Tasting yourself on his lips, fucked out already, “This isn’t over, prächtig.” Draping your legs around his hips, holding your ass as his carried you to the bedroom you’d found him half naked.

Walls a dark grey and military decor splattered here and there. Fingers at your chin, kisses twining the two of you. A shared effort to get the t-shirt over those broad shoulders. Hot, bare flesh under your fingertips. Muttering a swear, open-mouthed adoration consuming you. Tracing along rough and ready skin, he keened away, “Sensitive? How ‘bout here?” A palm at his denim, you witnessed König melt. Caging you in under him, never breaking contact.

Thick fingers teased- delving at a slow pace - curling at that sensitive patch inside. Breathless gasps coming from you in ebbs and flows, “Be loud, schatz…”

“Still so shy, even after making me come on your tongue…” Caressing his soft cheek, eye contact broken. Clenched down only for him to pick up the slack- feeling yourself gush with a wail. Grasp on his forearm tightening, your face pitifully scrunched up. Mouth carved to an ‘o’.

König’s warmth gone as he stood, tall and domineering. Unbuckling his belt, though you could see the outline in the blue fabric before. White underwear, black elastic at the top. Subdued but in tune to your surroundings, your eyes wide. His height corresponding at the thick, lengthy outline. Scarred hand giving it a rub, looking down at the mess in between your legs… the pool on the already dark covers. “Fucking hell…” It slapped across the trail of dark hair down the lower half of his stomach. V-line encasing the well defined cock in front of you.

How was it ever going to get inside you? You hadn’t had sex in a while, and this was the thing that would prize you open. You salivated thinking about it. His weight dipped against yours, seating between your legs. “Don’t look so scared, Y/N,” A thumb against your bottom lip, claiming both once again. Laying you down, the same thumb rubbing your face. “I’m going to go slow…” Resting on his knees, you couldn’t help but touch the thickness. He huffed so sweet at whatever touch you gave him.

Lifting your hips up with one of the pillows, legs stretched to fit his hips. Cold air hitting your bare parts, his legs filled the chill. You didn’t look, as his tip sank in. A sharpness turned into pleasure as the rest of him burrowed inside of you. Hands stapled to his neck- look at every twitch in König’s features. A loud groan from him, “Scheiße…” All that more attracted to him from that angle, incoherently in a void between dizziness and suffocation. Fleshy walls swollen around his girth. “I don’t think I can control myself, schatz…”

Your mind delirious and vision like a kaleidoscope, “Give it to me…”

König struggled to move, which made his movements more erratic. Hands everywhere on him, maiming him any time he bucked. Movements not rough but pent up.

Wriggling too much, his hands clamped down on your raised hips while ploughing you. Lifting your ass off the bed, fucking into you. Slaps of skin and strained choruses of teeth gritted screams was all that could be heard. Discomfort outmatched by carnal tears… He knew when you came- each time you did. Pulsing around him, almost pushing him out. That’s why he ground so deeply. And that’s when he’s name came out in a squeal.

Before his body buckled, hilted in you. Holding your wrists down, all while you milked him dry. So right, so soft… all his from now on. This giant of a man inside of you.

What a way to spend the zombie apocalypse…

————

Thanks for reading :)

————

masterlist

[luveline]

Hii! I'm in love with your Hotch adult daughter fics. Could we get one where she is getting bullied in college or where she works and then Hotch finds out somehow and helps her? Please please :)

thanks so much for requesting! fem, 1.2k

He decides to surprise you. He’s at risk of embarrassing himself greatly, and he’s okay with that risk. 

Hotch stands outside of the George Washington University and winces in the hot weather. The sun beats down on the back of his neck. He’s more aware of how little sun protection he uses as the time stretches on, waiting for you, but he doesn’t mind it. He’s worn full suits in the Nevada desert. 

You emerge from the main building where your last class for the day takes place. He dropped you off here last week, got to watch you walk in and say hi to the custodian. It was a nice insight of who you are, someone he’s proud to be the father of though he had little hand in what you’ve become. 

Behind you are two female classmates. 

Hotch pauses under the tree he’d taken refuge by. 

He can’t hear what they’re saying, but he can see the rigidity of your shoulders, your hackles rising as they talk. The brunette gets a nasty look on her face, to which you respond, and the blonde’s volume begins to rise. 

The brunette looks like she might reach for you. “Don’t touch me,” you warn. 

Hotch steps in. 

“Hey, excuse me,” he says, loudly and firmly, the Unit Chief tone in play. He’s gotten very good at raising his voice without shouting. “What’s going on here?”

The two women who were talking to you falter, but the brunette stays fiery. “We’re just talking.” 

“About what?” 

“It’s none of your business.” 

“If you’re going to lay your hands on her, it becomes my business,” he says. 

There’s a guilt to the blonde’s expression that proves you’d been thinking correctly and that she was going to touch you, even if it were only to grab your wrist, but she bristles and denies. “We weren’t.” 

“Then you have no reason to stay.” 

You frown deeply. “No, they can finish. Clearly they think it’s important–”

“But do you think it’s important?” Hotch asks you. 

Your frown, your anger beginning to ebb. You take a breath. “I suppose not.” 

Hotch levels the women with a look. Just a look, not interrogative or heated, but prompting —it’s the kind of look he gives people when he wants them to realise they’ve missed their cue to leave. 

“See you next week, then,” the brunette says, a threat he abhors. 

“I’m sure she will,” he says, hoping anything unsaid is felt. He has no idea who they are or what you’ve apparently done to make them angry, but you won’t be intimidated. 

“Do I need to talk with Dean Langley?” he asks, turning to you as the women walk out of hearing range. 

“Aaron.” You look at him, look like him, not in appearance but the pinch to your brow as you rub the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” 

“What?” 

“They do it to me every time I’m here.” 

“They do?” 

You sound like it’s a chore. “They think I’m sleeping with our professor.” 

“Why would they think that?” 

“Because ever since I stopped working, my grades are much better, n’ they think I cheated my way there.” 

Oh, of course. Hotch tries to do something good by you —he’s started giving you a little chunk of money every week so you don’t have to work anymore, nothing obsequious but enough to cover everything you need, rent and food and transportation, clothes, textbooks, and he made it clear you can ask for more— and it makes things worse for you instead. Still, “Your grades are improving?” 

“I’m doing pretty well,” you confess shyly. 

He holds your shoulder. “I’m sorry they’re jealous, and I’m sorry they’re inventing a narrative to cope. I really can speak with Dean Langley if you need me to.” 

You smile and let yourself lean into his touch. “Inventing a narrative to cope,” you repeat. “That’s a good one. I’ll use that one.” 

You have more fight in you, it seems. “If it gets too much, just let me know. You don’t have to entertain their delusion.” 

“I’ll use that one, too.” 

He laughs, hand sliding behind your back to hug you from the side, his nose briefly pressing to your temple before he gives you space again. “I was hoping I’d catch you on your way out, are you busy? Let me take you to dinner, celebrate your performance.” 

“You realise I wouldn’t have improved without your help?” you ask. 

“I think any parent in my position should provide for their kid,” he says easily. “It’s not help. Not everyone can support their children through college, but I can, and I wish I had been from the start.” 

“You don’t owe me anything,” you say. 

He nudges you into a walk toward his car. “I owe you more than you realise.” 

He takes you to an early dinner, and celebrates your improving grades with the dessert of your choosing. Conversation with you can sometimes feel strange. It’s hard to think you were a kid once and he’d never met you, but then he realises how young twenty two really is, how you’re still willing, longing for him to be a father to you. You’re smug that he’d go to the dean to for you. You like that he stepped in. And you love being doted on, being encouraged. He can see that easily. 

“When can I come back to see Jack?” you ask eventually. 

He wishes he could say whenever you like, but he has a hard time following Haley’s movements. “I’ll ask. Soon, I promise.”

“He took great care of me.” 

The last time you’d stayed over, Jack acted like you were the best thing since sliced bread (which you are, in Hotch’s eyes). 

“You know, he had a little trouble with bullies last year.” 

“They aren’t bullies,” you say, taking a bashful bite of your ice cream. 

“No, of course not. But he’ll understand, if you want to tell him about it.”

“Aaron, he’s five.” 

“He’s six,” he corrects. 

“Oh, sorry. But still, I don’t think Jack wants to deal with that. I couldn’t unload on him, he’s my… you know, he’s my little brother.” 

“Then tell me about it, at least.” 

“You saw the most of it.” 

He sighs. Wishes you’d call him dad, understands why you don’t, and can’t think of what to do. It was easier when Jack had trouble, because little kids bully each other almost on accident. They don’t know what they’re doing is wrong, having learned the behaviour from their parents. It’s almost never personal. 

Your situation is not the same. 

“I’ll talk to the dean,” he suggests again. 

“Don’t bother. It’s alright. And if it gets worse, I’ll tell you.” 

He smiles, reaching over plates to squeeze your hand briefly. “Thank you.” 

You look down at your food. Some shyness to you still at being cared about. “Thank you,” you mumble. 

[puppym3]

Heyaa! Is it possible to request an enemies to lovers one bed trope smut with bangchan? Like maybe reader and skz go on a trip but there’s not enough rooms so they decide to pair u guys up so that y’all can make up or whatever. Little did u know that Chris has a massive crush on u and was only being insufferable because he thought he didn’t have a chance but little did he know you thought he was cute too. Maybe he pops a boner while sharing the bed and becomes embarrassed but you decide to take matters into ur own hands and dom him for treating u liek shit lol 💀

↠ friction ↺ and ⊜ fire

*+:｡.｡ bangchan x fem!reader

wc: 4.8k

warnings: MDNI! 18+, smut, enemies to lovers, one bed trope, dom!reader, servicetop!bangchan, subby!bangchan, brat!reader, one-sided pining (kind've?), they're both idiots, piv, unprotected sex (sighh), they traumatize the other members, oral (m. rec), creampie, (lmk if i missed any)

a/n: thank you so much for the suggestion anon hehe.. it was so good and i hope i served what needed to be served!! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

*+:｡.｡

Stepping out of the van after a long, winding drive, you stretched your arms above your head, relishing the cool mountain air. The cabin loomed ahead, a cozy refuge nestled in the heart of the forest, promising a weekend of relaxation and fun. You were close friends with the boys and these trips were a regular occurrence. However, there was one member you couldn't stand.

Bang Chan.

Ever since you first met, the two of you had bickered incessantly over the most trivial things. Whether it was your taste in men or the way you folded your clothes, Bang Chan always found something to nag you about. You rolled your eyes just thinking about it. How could someone be so insufferable?

It reminds you of the time you had just broken up with your ex-boyfriend after you found out he had been cheating on you the entire time, you had unknowingly been the side piece throughout your relationship. Bang Chan warned you about him the entire time, saying he wasn't good for you. And now that things had crumbled, he was in your ear about how right he was. It frustrated you.

"Hurry up! We need to check out the rooms!" Felix excitedly called out, breaking your reverie.

You grabbed your bag and followed the boys into the cabin. As they scattered to explore, you took in the rustic charm of the place. It was perfect, except for one glaring issue: you only spotted eight bedrooms.

"Hey," Minho announced, holding up a hand-drawn map of the cabin. "There are only eight beds."

"Great," you muttered under your breath.

The boys gathered around, frowning at the realization.

"Well, who wants to share?" Seungmin said, glancing around.

"I don't mind sharing," Jisung shrugged.

Everyone seemed to share a knowing glance across the room.

"How about Y/N and Chan share a room?" Minho suggested with a mischievous glint in his eye.

You and Chan simultaneously snapped your heads toward Minho, protests ready on your lips, but the rest of the boys quickly agreed.

"Yeah, maybe you two will finally stop bickering," Jisung added, smirking.

"Fine," Chan sighed, his eyes meeting yours with a challenge.

"Fine," you echoed, refusing to back down.

"Awesome," Jeongin laughed nervously, trying to defuse the tension in the room. "We can check out the rest of the cabin tomorrow, so why don't we call it a night?"

"Yeah, I'm exhausted," Changbin agreed, calling out from his room, already laid out on his bed like a starfish.

You followed Chan to your room and set down your bags. The bedroom was spacious, but the lack of a second bed left a bitter taste in your mouth.

"Guess you're sleeping on the floor," you smirked, taking note of the single queen-sized mattress.

Chan raised an eyebrow and looked you up and down.

"Like hell, I am. You can sleep on the floor," he argued, his eyes glinting with amusement.

You let out a scoff, but before you could open your mouth, Felix appeared in the doorway.

"You're both responsible adults, you can share a bed."

You shot Felix a glare.

"Goodnight!" He quickly ducked out of the room, leaving you and Chan alone.

Chan crossed his arms, a smug expression on his face.

"Don't get any ideas, pervert," you sneered, brushing past him to get ready for bed.

"Wouldn't dream of it, darling."

The rest of the evening passed in tense silence. The two of you were cordial when brushing your teeth and washing your faces, but once you were settled under the covers, you turned away from each other, as far as you could go without falling off the bed.

Lying there, staring at the wall, you couldn't help but feel the tension in the room. It was more than just annoyance; it was a palpable electricity that seemed to spark every time you argued. You hated to admit it, but there was something about Chan that intrigued you, something that made your heart race in the most frustrating way.

And you were overly aware of how attractive he was, secretly ogling him when he would perform on stage. It annoyed you, a lot.

You shifted in the bed, trying to get comfortable. You could feel the heat radiating off of his body and it was driving you crazy. The more you tried to ignore him, the more aware you became of his presence.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. You rolled over, determined to confront him, but the words died in your throat. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, and his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

He looked so peaceful, so vulnerable, that you couldn't bring yourself to wake him. Instead, you watched him, admiring the way the moonlight illuminated his features.

You traced the line of his jaw with your eyes, trailing down to his full lips. Your heart skipped a beat as you imagined what it would be like to kiss him.

You quickly shook your head, berating yourself for even thinking such a thing. Chan was the last person you would ever want to kiss.

But the more you denied it, the more you thought about it. What if his lips were soft? What if he kissed you gently, his hands caressing your body?

The thought made your cheeks flush.

"Can you stop eye-fucking me? I'm trying to sleep."

Chan's voice snapped you out of it, and you quickly averted your gaze, your cheeks burning.

"I wasn't- I just, wanted to say something," you stammered, the defensiveness in your voice showing.

The fact that he was so cocky and attractive drove you crazy, you wanted to put him in his place then and there, you wanted to pick another fight with him, the fights you had him ignited a certain fire in you that you couldn't explain.

"What is it?"

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. What was wrong with you? You couldn't even form a coherent sentence around him.

"Just..." you scoffed, giving up when the words in your head scrambled.

"Goodnight."

With that, Chan rolled over, putting his back to you.

You huffed, annoyed at the way he dismissed you. You knew he was trying to get under your skin, and it was working. You glared at the back of his head, wishing you could slap the smug look off his face.

But even as you silently fumed, you laid in bed next to him. Unable to relax, you tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. But the bed seemed to grow smaller with each passing moment, and the space between you felt like an infinite chasm.

You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his mere presence setting your nerves alight. You were overly aware of his breathing, his steady inhale and exhale. And the longer you lay there, the more restless you became.

"Will you stop moving?"

His voice was barely above a whisper, but the sound made you jump.

"I can't sleep," you replied, keeping your eyes trained on the ceiling.

"Try harder."

You scoffed again, turning your head to look at him, and before you could come up with something to spit back at him, your gaze lowered, and your eyes landed on the very prominent tent on the bed.

Your eyes widened, and you quickly averted your gaze, but the image was burned into your mind.

Your cheeks flushed, and your heart began to race. Chan was hard. The realization sent a jolt of excitement through your body.

Now this was an argument you could easily win, you could definitely embarrass him with this.

So why couldn't you say anything? Why was the heat in between your thighs growing undeniably unbearable?

You couldn't stop yourself from stealing another glance. Your eyes trailed down the length of his body, coming to rest on the bulge straining against his pants.

Chris turned over to face away from you. You couldn't help but smile. You knew he was embarrassed, and the thought of him being uncomfortable made you feel satisfied.

Without hesitation, you moved closer, pressing your body against his. Your chest was pressed against his back.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice wavering.

"What do you mean?" you asked, your voice in an innocent tone as if you had no idea what he was talking about.

"Don't act stupid."

You couldn't help but smirk. You could hear the embarrassment in his voice, and it only made you more confident.

"You know exactly what I'm doing," you said, your voice dropping to a whisper.

"This isn't funny."

You couldn't believe how much this was affecting him.

"You're telling me," you purred, sliding your hand down his torso.

Your fingertips brushed over the hard outline of his cock, and you felt his breath catch.

You couldn't resist, he was a brat, and now it was time for payback. You wrapped your fingers around him, feeling the heat of his skin through the fabric of his pants.

He sucked in a sharp breath, and his hips jerked involuntarily. You bit your lip, trying to contain your own excitement.

"You're a fucking tease."

"Says the one with a boner," you retorted.

"I'm serious," he breathed.

"So am I," you said, tightening your grip.

The sound that escaped his lips made you shudder.

You knew that if you didn't stop now, there would be no turning back.

But you didn't care. You wanted this.

You grabbed his shoulder, pulling so he was lying on his back. His eyes were wide, his breath ragged.

Without a word, you straddled his lap, the thin fabric of your pajama shorts doing little to hide the heat between your thighs.

"You're a brat, you know that?" he groaned.

You smiled, your confidence growing by the second.

"Maybe, but I think you like it."

You rolled your hips, and his cock twitched beneath you.

"Fuck," he cursed. You couldn't help but smirk. He was clearly losing his composure.

"Don't get too cocky," he said, grabbing your hips and grinding up into you.

Your breath hitched, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how turned on you were.

"That's funny, coming from you," you managed to say, rocking your hips against him.

He was rock hard beneath you, and the friction was sending waves of pleasure through your body.

The outline of his cock through his pants was aligned perfectly with your cunt, gently brushing against your clit through each movement.

It was agonizing.

You leaned forward, your lips grazing his ear.

"Is this what you want? Then beg me."

You could feel his resolve breaking, and the satisfaction was almost overwhelming.

"Please," he choked out, the shyness poking through his cocky demeanor felt rewarding.

"I'm not sure I heard you."

You rocked your hips again, the friction making your head spin.

"Fuck, please" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You could tell he was embarrassed, but you didn't care. This was too good to stop now.

"You're a pervert," you whispered, tugging at the waistband of his pants. "Getting hard from sharing a bed with a girl?"

He couldn't meet your eyes, his face flushed red.

"It... it's not like that..." he murmured, but the tent in his pants told a different story.

You slipped your hand inside his boxers, wrapping your fingers around his length.

He gasped, his eyes widening.

"You-" he breathed.

"Tell me what it's like then," you teased, stroking him slowly.

His jaw was clenched, and he looked like he was struggling to form words.

"I'm waiting."

"It's because- fuck, it's because of you."

His response caught you off guard, and your heart skipped a beat.

"What?"

You couldn't hide the surprise in your voice, and the way it caused you to clench around nothing.

"It's you," he breathed, his gaze finally meeting yours.

You could see the desire in his eyes, and it took your breath away.

"But don't we hate each other?" you protested, unable to hide the hint of confusion in your voice, feeling like maybe you lost the plot somewhere along the way.

"I don't hate you," he admitted. "I just- I thought I did. But it was only because I couldn't handle the fact that I liked you so much."

You couldn't believe your ears. Chris liked you? It made your heart flutter, a million fantasies running through your head in a second. Why did this excite me so much? Why did I like hearing those words coming out of his mouth?

"You like me?" you echoed, unable to hide the disbelief in your voice.

"God, you're dense," he groaned, his frustration evident.

Before you could respond, he sat up and pulled you in, his lips were on yours, and his hands were gripping your hips.

You melted into the kiss, the taste of his lips and the warmth of his skin setting your nerves on fire.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours, and you moaned, the sound muffled by his mouth.

His kiss was fervent, lips melding with yours in a way that made your mind go blank. Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as he pulled you closer, pressing you against him.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his heart pounding in time with yours. The kiss deepened, tongues dancing in a rhythm that felt both urgent and unrelenting. The taste of him was intoxicating, a mix of mint toothpaste and something uniquely Chris.

His hands roamed over your body, caressing your back before settling on your hips, guiding your movements as you rocked against him. Each touch sent sparks shooting through your veins, and the friction between your bodies was driving you wild.

You couldn't think, couldn't breathe. All you could focus on was the feel of his lips, the warmth of his skin, the sound of his breath, heavy and labored.

When you pulled back, you pushed him back to lay on the bed.

"You really are a brat, huh?" he panted, his eyes dark with desire.

"You have no idea," you smirked, tugging his boxers down his hips.

His cock sprung free, and the sight of him made your mouth water. He was big, bigger than you expected, and the thought of him inside you made your stomach twist in anticipation.

You wrapped your hand around him, stroking him slowly.

He let out little breaths, his head falling back. You could tell he was struggling to hold himself together, and the sight made your stomach flutter with butterflies.

This feeling wasn't unfamiliar, you felt this way sometimes when you watched him on stage, his expressions, his confidence, everything about him. It was why you pretended to hate him. You were attracted to him, and the thought terrified you.

But right now, in this moment, there was no room for fear. All you could focus on was the feel of him in your hand, the taste of him on your lips, the heat of his skin.

You moved down the bed, kneeling between his legs. You couldn't take your eyes off him.

"Fucking hell," he cursed, his hand tangling in your hair.

"I'll be gentle," you teased, wrapping your lips around his tip.

The sounds that came from him was unlike anything you had ever heard, and it only fueled your desire.

You swirled your tongue around his length, savoring the taste of him. He was intoxicating, and you couldn't get enough.

You took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks and sucking gently. Your hands searched his body as you tasted him, feeling every inch of his chest and every detail on his body.

He was shaking, and you could tell he was holding back. And you had no intention of stopping, not until you had your fill of him.

"F-fuck," he breathed, his hand tightening in your hair. The feeling of him tugging on my hair sent shivers down my spine.

You hummed in response, the vibrations making him gasp.

You worked him slowly, teasing him with your tongue and lips. He tasted amazing, and the sound of his breathless moans was music to your ears.

You could feel the tension building in his body, his thighs twitching as he fought the urge to thrust into your mouth.

The power was intoxicating, but it wasn't enough, you wanted more.

You released him with a pop, his length coated in your saliva.

"Don't move, I'm going to ride you."

"What?"

You could see the shock on his face, and it only made you smile.

"I'm going to ride you," you repeated, climbing back onto his lap.

"But- wait- are you sure?"

His expression was comical, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Chris, do I need to spell it out for you?"

He shook his head, his eyes wide.

"Good, because I don't have the patience for it."

With that, you pushed your panties to the side, letting your legs spread wide so he could get a perfect view as you prepared yourself for him.

His breath caught in his throat, and you could feel his eyes on you, watching you as you slipped a finger inside yourself.

You couldn't believe how wet you were, your arousal coating your fingers as you stretched yourself open. You could feel him twitch beneath you, his length throbbing with need.

You added another finger, moaning as you worked yourself open. He was still watching, his gaze locked on the movement of your fingers as you fucked yourself on them.

"Fuck," he cursed, his hands gripping your hips as he tried to keep himself from thrusting up into you.

"Impatient, are we?"

He shot you a look, and you could see the desperation in his eyes.

"Fuck you," he said, though his words lacked any bite.

"I thought that was the plan," you teased, withdrawing your fingers and wiping them on his thigh.

"God, just- please," he breathed, his resolve crumbling.

"Since you asked so nicely."

You positioned yourself over him, his tip brushing against your entrance. You were already so wet, so ready for him.

"Are you sure, with no protection?"

"If you ask me one more time, I'll leave you here to take care of this yourself," you threatened.

You were on the pill, and you were too needy now to look back, the thought of feeling his raw cock stretching you out also made you super impatient.

You inserted the tip, the feel of him filling you up was overwhelming. He was big, bigger than anyone you've ever been with, and the stretch was almost too much.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice strained.

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you adjusted to his size.

"Fuck," you breathed, sinking down until he was buried to the hilt.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned, his grip on your hips tightening.

"And you're fucking huge," you replied, the pressure and heat building within you.

He couldn't help but laugh. "Well, I've never had complaints."

"Shut up," you smiled, pulling him in for a kiss.

Your tongues met, dancing together in a messy tangle. He kissed you like he was starving, and you could feel his hunger for you.

You began to move, slowly at first, rocking your hips against him. His breath hitched, and his hands gripped your waist, guiding your movements.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air.

"God, that's it," he groaned, his head falling back. His hands pushing at your inner thighs to spread your legs further.

His eyes intently staring at your body made you shiver, you grabbed at the hem of your shirt before pulling it off, giving him a better view to take in.

He groaned, his gaze roaming over your body. "So fucking beautiful," he murmured, his hand trailing up your thigh.

"I could say the same for you," you replied, tracing the lines of his abs with your fingertips.

He couldn't take his eyes off you, and the attention was overwhelming. You increased the pace, rolling your hips as you rode him. He was buried deep inside you, the sensation of him filling you up was incredible.

"God, yes," he breathed, his fingers digging into your skin.

You moaned, the sound escaping your lips before you could stop it. He was hitting all the right spots, and the pleasure was building, coiling in the pit of your stomach.

"Don't stop," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn't bring yourself to form words, the sensation was too much, your head was spinning.

You leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss, the taste of him only adding to the pleasure.

His tongue darted out, tracing your bottom lip.

"Fuck, Chris," you breathed, breaking the kiss.

He was breathing heavily, his gaze locked on yours. "Use me to come," he urged, his hands on your hips encouraging you.

"Chan," you moaned, his name on your lips like a prayer. You could feel him throbbing inside you, and the sensation was incredible.

"Come for me," he groaned, his fingers digging into your skin.

And then, the pleasure washed over you, the waves crashing into you with such intensity that you saw stars. You felt yourself tremble as you clenched over him, falling on his chest as you cried out, whimpering as you lightly grinded your high out.

He broke when he felt you cum on him, the soft breaths coming out of his mouth, and you could feel him twitch inside you, his cock throbbing as he came, his cum filling you up.

The feeling was unlike anything you've experienced, and you could feel the pleasure coursing through your veins.

When he finally stilled, the two of you were a panting, sweaty mess. You could feel the aftershocks of your orgasm rippling through your body, and the sensation was incredible.

"Fuck," he breathed, his fingers digging into your skin.

"That's exactly what we did," you teased, your breathing slowly returning to normal.

He couldn't help but laugh, burying his face in your shoulder. "You're insufferable," he murmured, his breath tickling your neck.

"Oh, and you're not?"

"I guess we're perfect for each other then."

He raised his head, his eyes meeting yours. The sincerity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn't help but press a light kiss to his lips.

"Maybe," you conceded, the word slipping out before you could stop it.

"I'd like that," he smiled, the dimple in his cheek deepening.

Your heart swelled, and you leaned in for another kiss, a little longer than the last.

"So... I'm guessing this means you like me too?"

His question caught you off guard, and the thought made your heart flutter.

"You could say that," you replied, unable to hide the hint of hesitation in your voice.

He frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. "That's not an answer," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of annoyance.

You bit your lip, the uncertainty rising within you. You couldn't help but worry that this was a mistake, that it was all a joke.

"Hey," he said, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. "Talk to me."

"It's just... are you sure? I feel like you're fucking with me again, this is just too good to be true," you said, completely honest and a little too vulnerable in front of him.

"Oh my god," he sighed, his frustration evident. "How much proof do you need? If it wasn't obvious, I don't usually let people ride me."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound escaping your lips before you could stop it.

"Fair enough," you conceded, leaning in to steal a kiss.

He hummed, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"I think I'm going to enjoy proving myself," he murmured, his fingers running along the curve of your ass.

"Is that so?"

He nodded, the glint in his eye making your heart skip a beat.

"I promise you'll be begging for it next time."

"That's a bold claim," you challenged, unable to hide the amusement in your voice.

"One that I'll gladly prove," he said, his tone playful.

"We'll see about that," you teased, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"Don't challenge me unless you're prepared for the consequences."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the idea of him having his way with you was intoxicating.

You giggled, stealing a quick kiss before climbing off his lap.

You couldn't help but laugh looking at him, "God, you're so cute," you teased, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before padding over to the bathroom.

You woke up early, the sunlight streaming through the window and the sound of birds chirping outside.

You groaned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and sitting up.

The events of last night rushed back, and you couldn't help but smile, the memory of his touch, the taste of his lips, and the sting you felt on your legs from the workout.

As you looked around, however, you were met with an empty bed, the sheets beside you cold.

A wave of panic washed over you, the realization that he wasn't here was jarring. You couldn't help but think that it had all been a dream, the thought of us doing anything already seemed unreal to you.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of the door opening, and the sight of him made your heart skip a beat.

"Morning," he greeted, a wide smile on his face.

You felt way too giddy seeing his face, seeing him just made you want to plant kisses all over his face.

"Morning," you replied, the warmth spreading across your cheeks.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed.

You couldn't help but stare at him, the sight of him in a plain t-shirt and shorts, his hair tousled and his skin glistening from his morning shower.

"Well, you didn't snore." you teased.

He rolled his eyes, the gesture making you giggle.

"I'm glad my princess could sleep without any disturbances, then."

The words made your heart skip a beat, and you were left speechless. You couldn't believe how quickly he had gotten under your skin.

You couldn't deny the effect he had on you, the way your heart raced when he was close, the way your body craved his touch.

You bit your lip, trying to push down the feelings that threatened to overwhelm you.

"You okay?" he asked, his eyebrows knitted together in concern.

"Yeah, just... I was worried, that's all," you confessed, unable to meet his gaze.

He frowned, clearly not understanding. "Worried? Why?"

"I thought... I thought it was all a dream, that I was just imagining it."

He couldn't help but laugh, the sound filling the room.

"You're too adorable," he smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"I really do like you," you countered, the words escaping your lips before you could stop them.

His expression softened, the laughter dying on his lips.

"I really do like you, too"

You couldn't help but melt, the words echoing in your head.

You leaned in, closing the distance between the two of you.

Suddenly you heard loud pounding knocks at your door.

The door opened and Minho with a tired face walked in, Seungmin shyly trailing behind him.

"I'm glad you guys... 'made up', but for fucks sake," Minho complained.

"Couldn't you have saved that?" Seungmin joined in, equally mortified.

You couldn't help but blush, the thought of your friends hearing the two of you was embarrassing.

Chris, trying to keep a straight face, couldn't help but giggle a little.

"Okay, okay, we're sorry," you apologized, holding your hands up in surrender.

"Sorry," Jisung says, barging into the conversation, "I'm just so happy for you, I've had to endure this guy whining about you for the past 2 months."

"Shut up," Chan blushed, his cheeks tinted red.

"Oh my god, is that why you were such an ass? You were pining?" you teased, pinching his cheek.

"Don't," he whined, pulling away from your grasp.

"Well, Jeongin left last night, he fled to a hotel room." Minho chimed in. "I should've just done the same."

"Why didn't you?" Jisung asked, clearly amused.

"I don't know, I was hoping the walls would be thick enough."

"Lee know, oh my god," you blushed, hiding your face in Chan's shoulder.

"You were loud, we could hear you from our room, which is right next to yours. We can also hear everything," Minho complains.

"Okay, okay," Chan concedes.

"So are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?" Felix pipes up.

"What elephant?" Changbin asks, who clearly hasn't caught on.

"These two fucked," he says, just now coming into the conversation.

"Okay, that's enough, I'm leaving." You say, your face red with embarrassment.

"I'll come with," Chris agrees, and you both get up and leave the room.

"Oh my god, can they just hate each other again?" Seungmin complains.

"For the love of god, yes," Minho agrees.

*+:｡.｡

[thewistlingbadger]

Jinx did not purposefully kill Silco, Jinx did not "choose Vi over Silco", Jinx did not kill Silco to protect Vi, and Jinx did not kill Silco out of love for Vi.

Jinx only kills Silco out of instinct. This is demonstrated time and time again with the crows. Jinx is heavily associated with crows in arcane. Yes they're a symbol for death and the macabre but they also serve a narrative and character purpose.

Crows show up whenever Jinx is about to fly off the handle. They show up when she tries to beat Vi's score, they show up when the firelights interrupt her reunion, and they show up on the night she kills Silco. Crows are used to show us when something really fucking bad is about to happen to Jinx.

They also show us something very INTEGRAL to her character: she is willing to kill anything that so much as moves, even when she knows it's not a threat. Jinx is initially startled by a crow when she goes to the place she and her family used to hang out. She pulls out her gun, realizes it's just a bird (not a threat), and shoots it anyway. This is REALLY important and is hinting at the finale.

Jinx is someone who lives in a very dangerous and hostile environment. She's been exposed to violence all her life, and there's many things to be afraid (many things she IS afraid of) in Zaun. It's instinct to protect herself because everyone hates her and is out to get her.

In the finale, Jinx PURPOSELY and INTENTIONALLY puts her ONLY WEAPON IN FRONT OF SILCO when threatened by Caitlyn. Why? Because she knows Silco will protect her. She knows that if shit hits the fan, if push comes to shove, if she is somehow put in a position where she cannot defend herself, Silco will defend her. Always. If she was afraid of Silco or what he might do or if she was afraid for Vi's safety, she would have NOT put the gun in his reach. She KNOWS he's anti-vi, she KNOWS he doesn't like her, he is literally arguing against her in this scene. She also knows that Silco has no limits, no line unwilling to cross. Silco would EASILY and perhaps happily kill Vi if given the chance. But she puts the gun in front of him because she trusts him and knows he'd do anything for her.

And ultimately, he DOES die defending her. Vi trying to call members of the past actively and explicitly puts Jinx in a place of pain and hurt. She is actively damaging her sister and making her the most unstable we've ever seen this. VI doesn't know she's doing this because vi lives in the past and the past has always been her refuge. But the past has always been jinx's nightmare and personal hell. Silco knows this because HE was there. He was there for every meltdown and mental breakdown, he knows her and knows what she's like, which is WHY he does everything in his power to get her to stop. The amount of violence and aggression he enters just to get Vi to stop is actually insane. We have NEVER seen him act this way. He's yelling at the top of his lungs and THRASHING IN HIS CHAIR to get her to stop, because he knows A. This is hurting Jinx and B. No good will come from this. He tells her to shut up, physically tries to get her to stop, and then he notices the gun (notice how is initial reaction wasn't to just kill her? Notice how he tried other methods before physical and actual violence?). He grabs the gun, point the gun at Vi, and press the trigger. But the bullets don't come out, the safety pin activates.

Jinx hears the pin. This is the only thing that manages to pull her out of her meltdown: the threat of violence. She's not in a place to process or analyze the situation. Upon instinct, she opens fire on everyone within the room, firing at random. Her only intention to put down the threat of violence. Both Vi and Silco's chair have bullet holes, showing that this is the case.

It takes her a while to calm down but once she does, she realizes what she's actually done. She realizes the threat was no threat at all.

[unabashegirl]

Fragments — one shot

Harry runs into Y/N in Japan. She is his ex and she is seeking closure.

Author's note: Hello everyone, I hope you are all doing well. Here is this week's one shot! I hope you enjoy it. LOTS OF ANGST! The second part will get posted tomorrow.

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all chapters, various one shots and much more :)

Please note that everything that is both underlined and italicized is from the past—they are flashbacks!

word count 3.9K

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As the sun began its descent in the late afternoon sky, Shiba Park in Tokyo was bathed in a gentle, golden light. The cherry blossoms, just beginning to bloom, added a delicate touch of pink to the scene, signaling the early days of spring. The air was crisp but not cold, filled with the subtle fragrance of blooming flowers and fresh grass.

Harry Styles, hoping to escape the relentless pace of his life, walked through the park with a coffee in hand. Dressed casually, he blended in with the locals, his trademark curls tucked under a beanie and his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. The sounds of children playing, birds chirping, and the distant hum of the city created a peaceful backdrop.

As Harry roamed along the winding paths, taking in the serene beauty of the park, his attention was drawn to a familiar figure sitting on the grass. It was Y/N, his ex-girlfriend, enjoying a solitary picnic. A blanket was spread out before her, adorned with an assortment of snacks and a book lying open beside her. She seemed lost in her own world, her face relaxed and serene.

Two years had passed since their breakup, a period marked by unresolved tensions and painful memories. Seeing Y/N unexpectedly stirred a mix of emotions within Harry. He paused, torn between the urge to approach and the instinct to keep his distance. The years apart had softened some of the bitterness, but the wounds were still there, just beneath the surface.

Y/N, sensing someone's gaze, looked up and their eyes met. For a moment, time stood still. The park faded away, and all that existed was the shared history and unspoken words between them. Harry's heart raced, and he wondered if the universe was giving them a chance to get some closure or if it was sick joke.

Harry's breath hitched slightly as he stood there, unsure of what to do next. His mind raced with memories of their past together—the good times, the laughter, the fights, and ultimately, the heartbreak. He took a tentative step forward, then stopped. Y/N, on the other hand, seemed to be caught in a similar turmoil. Her eyes, which had initially shown surprise, softened as she looked at him, but there was also a hint of uncertainty.

The sounds of the park seemed to fade into the background as they continued to hold each other’s gaze. Finally, Harry took another step forward and then another until he was standing a few feet away from her. He hesitated, then managed a small, tentative smile.

“I thought Japan was my territory and off limits for you” he said, his voice gentle, almost hesitant.

“Didn’t realize that we still had divided territories. Weren’t you in Italy a few weeks ago?” she replied, a playful tone in her voice, but her expression a mix of surprise and amusement. She shifted slightly on the blanket, making room as if inviting him to sit.

He took the invitation, lowering himself onto the grass beside her. For a few moments, they sat in silence, the only sounds being the rustling of leaves and distant laughter from other park visitors. Harry took a sip of his coffee, searching for the right words.

"Point taken," he said with a knowing smile, aware that Italy held a special place in her heart. Perhaps that's why he found himself spending most of his free time there—chasing her and the memories they had once shared. Italy had become one of refuge, a place where he could feel closer to her, even if she was no longer by his side.

"I didn’t expect to see you here," he finally said, glancing at her.

"I didn’t expect to see you either," she replied, a faint smile touching her lips. "How have you been?"

He nodded, looking down at his coffee cup. "I've been... busy. Touring, recording, the usual. What about you?"

“Good. Nothing unusual” she said, her gaze drifting to the cherry blossoms. "Life's been quiet, but good.”

"How long are you staying?"

"A month."

"You finally took those vacations," he smiled warmly, fully aware of how much she had dreamed of this much-needed break. The thought of her taking time for herself brought a sense of relief—he had always wanted her to prioritize her well-being, even if their paths had diverged.

Y/N nodded, a grateful expression softening her features. "Yes, finally," she replied, a hint of exhaustion tinged with excitement in her voice. "I needed this more than I realized."

Harry looked at her, noticing the subtle signs of weariness that hinted at the weight she had been carrying. "I'm glad you're giving yourself this time," he said sincerely. "You deserve it."

As they sat on the grass, Y/N suddenly glanced at her watch and then back at Harry, her expression shifting. "I need to get going," she said softly, her voice tinged with reluctance.

Harry looked at her, concern etching his features. "Is everything okay?"

She nodded, forcing a small smile. "Yeah, everything's fine. I just... I have stuff to do."

Harry felt a pang of disappointment but tried to hide it. "I get it," he said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity. “Let me walk you out?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. Sure”.

They stood up together, brushing off their clothes. As they walked side by side through the park, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across their path. The silence between them was comfortable, though charged with unspoken words and hidden feelings.

Y/N looked at him momentarily and she felt like she was in the dream. Like in one of the numerous dreams that she had when they had just broken up.

As they neared the exit, Harry felt a growing sense of urgency. He wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. The thought of not seeing her again gnawed at him, so he took a deep breath and asked, "What are you doing tomorrow?"

Y/N glanced at him, sensing the hesitation in his voice. "I’m not sure yet."

Harry's heart raced as he quickly blurted out, "I’m taking a course on making sushi in the afternoon, and in the evening, I was invited to an art exhibition. Would you like to come with me?"

He winced slightly, realizing how rushed and jumbled his words had sounded. But to his relief, Y/N seemed to understand him perfectly. She hesitated, clearly taken aback by the suddenness of the invitation. Her mind raced with conflicting emotions. Part of her wanted to decline, to remind herself of the pain that still lingered from their past. Yet another part of her, the part that still held onto the connection they once shared, was tempted to say yes.

She looked at him, trying to gauge his intentions. It wasn’t lost on her how much effort he was putting into this, how much he seemed to want to bridge the gap between them. But she also knew that accepting would mean opening old wounds, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

Deep down, she felt a strong need for closure. She deserved at least that from him—an explanation for everything that had happened in those last few months. The questions that had haunted her, the confusion that lingered, all demanded answers. And as much as she wanted to protect herself from further pain, she knew that without closure, she would never truly be able to move on.

She took a deep breath, her mind racing as she weighed her options. Harry’s invitation felt like an opportunity—a chance to finally confront the unresolved issues between them, to hear his side of the story, and maybe even to find some peace.

“Okay,” she said quietly, meeting his gaze. “I’ll go”.

Harry’s eyes lit up with a mix of surprise and relief. “Really?”

She nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah”. she agreed, feeling a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Harry nodded, his smile growing. “I’ll pick you up”.

“Sounds good” She gave him a small nod.

As Y/N walked away, a surprising sense of calm washed over her. She returned to the charming Airbnb she had rented, a place that had captivated her with its traditional decor and tranquil Japanese garden. This trip had been a rare indulgence—she never took vacations, so she had splurged on a stay that offered peace and serenity. Running into Harry had been the last thing she expected, a twist she hadn’t anticipated.

Once back, Y/N found herself reaching for the bottle of wine she had been saving for her last night in Japan. She poured herself a generous glass, savoring the rich aroma, and then slid open one of the doors that led to the garden. Sitting on the edge, she let her gaze drift over the carefully tended landscape, the soft rustle of leaves in the evening breeze soothing her nerves.

As she sipped her wine, memories flooded back—how it all began with Harry, how blissfully happy they had been during those first two years. The laughter, the shared dreams, the moments that had once made her heart soar.

Y/N rushed through the crowded streets, her phone cradle between her ear and shoulder as she fumbled with bags. She was late, as usual, and in the midst of her hurried pace, she decided to call her coworker to confirm a meeting time.

Without looking too closely, she scrolled through her contacts and dialed the number of her coworker. The phone rang twice before a voice answered on the other end.

“Hello?” a deep, distinctly British voice said.

“Hey, I’m running a bit late,” Y/N said not bothering with pleasantries. “But I’m almost there, so don’t leave without me, okay?”

There was a brief pause on the other end. “Um, I think you might have the wrong number, love,” the voice replied, amusement clear in the tone.

Y/N stopped dead in her tracks, her heart skipping a beat. That wasn’t her coworker’s voice. Realization hit her like a freight train.

“Oh my God,” she blurted out, her face flushing with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, I thought I was calling someone else!”

The man on the other end chuckled, a warm, easy sound that somehow made her feel even more flustered. “It’s not every day I get a call like this. I’m amused”

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could disappear into thin air. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated, feeling like a complete idiot. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me at all. Don’t hang up just yet” He assured her, his voice still light with humor. “I’m a bit curious now. Who were you trying to call?”

“My coworker,” she replied, still mortified. “We were supposed to meet for a presentation, and I’m runnin —”

Suddenly, the call cut off, the connection lost as she moved through a spotty area of service. She stared at her phone in disbelief, her face heating up with a mix of mortification and frustration.

She hesitated, her finger hovering over the screen, but she couldn’t bring herself to redial. It had been a mistake, after all. He probably didn’t think twice about it, she told herself, brushing off the encounter as nothing more than a fleeting moment of awkwardness.

Little did she know, the brief exchange would leave a lasting impression on him. The first track on his next album would be inspired by that stranger’s call, and it would become a hit record.

The next day, as they strolled through the bustling streets of Japan, Harry noticed the silence that had settled between them. The vibrant surroundings seemed to contrast with the quiet tension that hung in the air. He glanced over at Y/N, who was lost in thought, her expression distant.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Harry remarked gently, breaking the silence. His tone was soft, tinged with concern as he searched her face for any sign of what might be on her mind.

Y/N looked up, startled out of her thoughts. She offered him a small, almost apologetic smile. “Just taking it all in,” she replied, her voice quieter than usual too, as if she were trying to keep something at bay.

Harry nodded, but he could tell there was more to it. There was a weight in her eyes that hadn’t been there before, a heaviness that seemed to grow with each step they took closer to the restaurant he had reserved for their private cooking lesson.

“I don’t want this to be awkward,” Harry said, sensing the tension that lingered between them. He wanted to clear the air, to ease the unease that seemed to hang over them, but he knew that doing so would mean opening Pandora’s box—revealing a lot of things he wasn’t ready to confront just yet.

Harry’s words hung in the air, and for a moment, Y/N hesitated. She didn’t want to make things more difficult, but the weight of unspoken questions pressed down on her, demanding to be acknowledged.

“Harry,” she began, her voice trembling slightly as she forced herself to continue, “what went wrong?”.

The question hung there, raw and exposed, cutting through the fragile peace they had tried to maintain. Harry’s steps faltered, his breath catching as he turned to face her, the streets of Japan fading into the background.

“Y/N…” he started, but his voice trailed off, as if he couldn’t find the right words. Or maybe he was afraid of them.

She looked into his eyes, searching for something—an answer, an apology, anything that could make sense of the pain that had consumed her in the months after their breakup. “We used to be happy until those last few months,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s chest tightened as memories of their past came rushing back. He could see it all so clearly—the late-night conversations that stretched into the early morning, the spontaneous trips, the way she used to look at him with so much love in her eyes. It was all there, and it hurt to think about how they had lost it.

Y/N stood outside the studio, her heart pounding in her chest as she leaned against the wall, trying to stay out of sight. She had only been dating Harry for a few weeks, and everything still felt so new, so fragile. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but when she’d arrived at the studio, the sound of his voice singing had stopped her in her tracks.

She could hear him inside, his voice smooth and captivating as he worked through a melody with a small group of people. Y/N knew she should knock, let him know she was there, but something held her back. She was still shy around him, nervous about stepping into his world, a world she felt she was only just beginning to understand.

The music flowed through the walls, wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. She could hear the passion in Harry’s voice, the way he poured himself into every note. It was mesmerizing, and she found herself leaning closer to the door, not wanting to miss a single word.

She bit her lip, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she listened. This was Harry in his element, doing what he loved, and she didn’t want to interrupt that. But as much as she loved hearing him sing, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place, like she was intruding on something private.

Just as she was about to quietly slip away, the door to the studio creaked open. One of the musicians stepped out, giving Y/N a polite nod as he passed by. She froze, hoping he hadn’t noticed her lingering there like some awkward fan. But as the door swung wider, Y/N realized with a jolt that Harry was looking directly at her.

He paused mid-sentence, his eyes lighting up with surprise and something else—something warmer. A smile spread across his face, and he excused himself from the group, his gaze never leaving hers as he stepped toward the doorway.

“Hey darlin’” Harry said softly, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and affection. “How long have you been out here?”

Y/N blushed, feeling caught. “Not long,” she lied, glancing down at her shoes. “I didn’t want to interrupt… You sounded amazing, by the way.”

Harry chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “You could’ve come in, you know. I don’t bite,” he teased, but his eyes were gentle, understanding her hesitation.

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” she admitted, still feeling a bit shy under his gaze.

“Come here. You can never distract me” Harry said, his tone sincere. He reached out, taking her into a tight hug. Harry pulled Y/N into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around her as if he were trying to shield her from the world. She melted into him, her head resting against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The warmth of his body seeped into hers, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

Harry held her close, his hand gently stroking her back in slow, soothing circles. The tension she had felt earlier began to dissolve in the comfort of his embrace, replaced by a sense of peace that only he could bring her. He smelled like a mix of his cologne and something uniquely him, a scent that was both familiar and calming.

He pulled back just enough to look down at her, his eyes soft with affection.

“You are staring” She murmured, her voice low and tender. Before she could add anything else, Harry leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, his lips lingering there for a moment as if to seal his words with reassurance.

The kiss was sweet, filled with a quiet promise that made Y/N’s heart flutter. When he pulled back, he gave her a soft smile, his eyes filled with warmth. Without letting go of her, Harry reached down and took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. His grip was firm, yet gentle.

“You tell me,” Harry said, his voice suddenly sharp, cutting through the tension between them. “You were the one who left.” The bitterness in his tone was undeniable, the memory of that night still raw and vivid in his mind.

Y/N flinched at the harshness in his words, the pain of that night rushing back to her as well. “You still don’t get it? “How hard is to accept the fact that I left you because you didn’t deserve me?”. She shot back, her voice trembling with emotion. “You shut me out. You pushed me away until I couldn’t take it”.

Harry’s jaw tightened, the frustration and hurt that had been simmering inside him now boiling over. “I didn’t know how to talk to you,” he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice catching her off guard. “I still don’t know how to talk to you”.

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, her heart breaking all over again. “You made me feel like I wasn’t enough,” she whispered, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “Like I couldn’t do anything right, and that no matter how hard I tried, I was always going to lose you.”

Harry’s expression softened, the anger in his eyes giving way to regret. “It’s here” He said, his voice barely above a whisper as they arrived at the restaurant.

As they arrive at the restaurant, the atmosphere feels almost serene, a stark contrast to the tension that still lingers between them. The restaurant is tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, its traditional wooden façade illuminated by soft, warm lights. The sliding door opens as they approach, and they are greeted by the chef, a kind-looking man dressed in traditional Japanese clothing. His warm smile crinkles the corners of his eyes, and he bows slightly as he welcomes them.

"Welcome," the chef says in a gentle voice, his English tinged with a thick accent. "It is an honor to have you here today."

Harry returns the bow, his hand still lightly resting on Y/N’s back as they step inside. “Thank you for having us,” he replies, his tone respectful.

The chef guides them down a narrow hallway, leading them into a cozy kitchen space at the back of the restaurant. The kitchen is immaculate, with gleaming countertops and neatly arranged utensils. Fresh ingredients are laid out in beautiful wooden bowls, each one perfectly prepared for the lesson ahead. The smell of fresh fish, rice, and various seasonings fills the air, making Y/N’s stomach rumble slightly in anticipation.

The chef turns to them with another smile. “Today, we will be learning the art of sushi,” he says, gesturing to the ingredients. “Please, take an apron.”

Y/N reaches for one of the aprons hanging on a nearby hook, the fabric soft and clean in her hands. She fumbles slightly with the ties, her fingers a bit clumsy as she tries to secure it around her waist. Before she can figure it out, Harry steps forward, his hands gentle as he takes the ties from her.

“Here, let me help,” he says softly, his voice filled with a quiet warmth that makes her heart skip a beat.

Y/N turns slightly, allowing him to stand behind her. She feels the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck as he carefully ties the apron around her, his fingers brushing against her back in a way that sends shivers down her spine. There’s a tenderness in the way he handles the simple task, a care that speaks volumes, even without words.

“All set,” Harry murmurs, his voice close to her ear. He gives the ties a gentle tug to make sure they’re secure before stepping back, a small, almost shy smile playing on his lips.

Y/N glances over her shoulder at him, her heart fluttering at the look in his eyes. “Thanks,” she whispers, her voice soft as she tries to ignore the way her emotions are threatening to bubble up to the surface.

The chef, oblivious to the silent exchange between them, claps his hands together, drawing their attention back to the task at hand. “Let us begin,” he says with enthusiasm. “I will show you how to prepare the rice, and then we will move on to cutting the fish.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, trying to refocus her mind on the lesson ahead. But even as the chef begins to explain the process, she can’t shake the feeling of Harry’s hands on her, the lingering warmth of his touch a constant reminder of the connection that still exists between them, despite everything that has happened.

Part 2

[leviraaaaaa]

"Hey."

A husky voice spoke right beside your ear, startling you. You felt arms wrap around your waist from behind, warmth pressing against your neck.

"Huh–" You turned your head around, caught off guard. But your shoulders relaxed the moment you realized it was him. "Oh hi, it's you."

Levi rested his head on your shoulder, spreading his legs so they went around where you were sitting, practically slumping on you

"Mhm, were you hoping it was someone else?" Levi mumbled sleepily, snuggling deeper, pressing a soft kiss into the skin before burying his face into the crook of your neck.

"Never." You smiled.

You were sitting on the bed of the spare bedroom, papers and books spread across you. You work best in bed. But Levi was so tired tonight, he had went to bed early, and you hadn't the heart to disrupt his sleep. Which is why you had to seek refuge in the guest bedroom instead.

"You made a mess." He huffed, noticing the absolute chaos of papers and books you have made in the bed.

"We don't have much guests either way. This room is practically going to waste. But fine," You reassure him. "I'll clean up later, I swear."

"You always say that. Weeks will pass, the mess will stay the same." He mutters.

"Alright, you neat-freak, did you wake up just to take a nick at how unorganized I am?" You raise a brow, shooting a glance sideways, pretending to be annoyed. You failed to bite back the smile tugging on your lips though."You should be asleep."

"Shouldn't you too?" He pouted. "I can't sleep if you're not there."

"I know," You raised your hand, ruffling his hair. It was already messy, indicating he'd been tossing and turning in the bed for a while now. "I just really need to finish this article, alright? Go to bed, I'll be there."

"Is your work more important than me?" His head turned sideways, the silver of his eyes glinting through sleep-heavy lids. He almost looked like a pouty kid, needy for attention. You turned your head to press your forehead against his, pressing against the warmth of his body. He was always so warm.

"Levi, I promise. Just 5 minutes."

"I gave you 2 hours." He frowned.

"5 more minutes. Finishing touches."

"In the morning. Come to bed."

"Just 5 minutes!" You laughed when he shook his head, his hair tingling your neck.

"5 seconds."

"Levi."

"5." He began counting.

You rolled your eyes, amused. "No way, you're doing that."

"4."

"I'm serious."

"3."

"Two minutes?"

"2."

You squirmed against his hold, struggling to loosen his grip. You tugged forward, but you couldn't even budge.

Curse Levi and his Ackerman strength.

"1."

"Okay, I'm serious, let me g–"

You didn't even get a second before you were hoisted up in the air, thrown over his shoulder. A surprised squeal escaped you but the next thing you know you were in your bedroom. He dropped you on it, bed creaking underneath the sudden weight. Then he slid in, pulling the covers and tucking the both of you under it, an arm wrapping around you so you were pressed firmly against his chest and very unable to move.

"You work too hard for your own good." He mumbled, voice already raspy from the exhaustion clouding over him.

"Says the workaholic and the insomniac." You protest.

"You talk a lot, don't you?" He sighed softly. "Go to sleep. If you don't get enough rest you get cranky in the morning."

"I suffer from cranky Levi everyday. You should get a taste." You grinned.

"I'm not cranky."

"No. You're like a moody teenager on her period."

"Shut up." He tugged your ear, a playful gesture to show that he was annoyed. But the slightest quirk of his mouth didn't escape your eyes, as small as it was. "Need my sleep, love. Can't have that if you're not here."

"Yeah?" You exhaled, sleep caressing your eyes as well. But the nickname still made you grin. Hearing words of endearment from Levi was such a rare thing, you felt giddy whenever he addressed you like that. It's not that he doesn't love you, it's just he's gets too flustered and embarrassed whenever the words slip out, which just makes the moments all the more special.

Like now, how he screwed up his face the instant he realized.

"No." He said in a warning tone.

Too late. You grinned. "Call me darling."

"No."

"Sweetheart?"

"No."

"Honeypie?"

"Absolutely not."

"Sweat pea?"

"What the fuck." He groaned. "I swear you get worse every day."

"I'm serious. Why not?"

"Because they're ridiculous."

"Okay. How about Fuzzball?"

"What the hell is that even supposed to mean?"

"Pumpkin?"

"Why, just why?"

You reached up, bringing your mouth closer to his ears. "Mommy?" You whispered.

He jolted. "I will smack you with this pillow." He says flatly, keeping his face expressionless. "Go to sleep before I knock you out myself."

You nodded, pressing the back of your hand to stifle your laugher, your shoulders shaking. But you decided that was quite enough for Levi. At least for one night.

"Roger." You sighed, throwing an arm over him. "Goodnight, babe."

"Brat." He grumbled, turning his head and hiding his face in the pillow.

Not before you caught the flush on his face though.

@sad-darksoul

[kavumas-blog]

My Life as a Queer Refugee: A Story of Struggle, Survival, and Hope

As a queer person, I once believed I could live authentically in my home country. But as I came out, everything changed. What I thought was a community that might support me turned against me, and I found myself in danger, rejected by family, friends, and society. Forced to flee my home to seek safety, I traveled to Kenya hoping for asylum, only to face even more hardship. Now, living in yet another country, I continue to struggle, not only with the trauma of being a refugee but with the daily fight to survive as a queer person.

My journey as a queer refugee has been one of immense pain and loss. When I left my country, I was running from violence—both physical and emotional. In Kenya, I hoped to find protection and safety, but what I encountered was indifference and exclusion. I wasn’t safe there either. Once again, I had to flee, moving to a neighboring country in search of refuge, but the discrimination followed me.

Living as a refugee is already incredibly difficult. The lack of basic necessities—food, medication, housing—is a constant strain. But being queer adds another layer of struggle. I often find myself isolated, marginalized by both the community I seek to integrate with and the very system that is supposed to protect me. There is no safety net, and the fear of violence or rejection is a constant presence in my life.

The systems in place often fail us. Many refugees are denied the support they desperately need, not because they aren’t worthy, but because their identities—especially their queer identities—make them vulnerable to further discrimination. The global refugee system has not yet adequately addressed the unique needs of LGBTQ+ refugees, and this is why the suffering continues.

What’s worse is that it’s not just about the physical survival—it's about the emotional toll it takes. Every day I fight to exist as myself, but too often, the world makes it feel like that’s a fight I can’t win. My story is not unique. There are countless queer refugees who face the same struggles of survival and the constant question: "Where can I go to be safe?"

But there is hope. This struggle is not just mine—it's shared by many, and it’s through awareness and action that we can make a difference. We need to advocate for better protections for queer refugees, for policies that take our unique struggles into account. We need organizations to provide not just shelter, but the mental and emotional support necessary for survival. And we need the wider public to open their hearts, understand our pain, and help us amplify our voices.

I urge you, if you’re reading this, to take action. Donate to my fundraiser. Advocate for policies that protect us, and raise awareness about the discrimination we face. Share our stories—let us be heard. The world must understand that queer refugees are not just statistics, but human beings fighting for the right to live openly and safely.

The fight is ongoing, but with support, it’s one we can win. I am more than my struggle, and together, we can ensure that every queer refugee has the chance to live without fear, to be themselves fully, and to survive with dignity.

[fictionalsweethearts]

CONVENIENTLY CLOSE | VI X READER | ARCANE

Synopsis: Seven years have not passed in vain, and the woman in front of you seems to be Vi's sign, but hardened by prison, stronger, taller, eager to live the lost years. And to see you again. Faced with old habits and the need for a place to lay low, Vi takes refuge in your apartment and stays conveniently close, maybe too close.

Contains: arcane!vi, feminine reader, lesbians, lots of arguments and dialogues, nsfw, explicit stuff, arcane universe, childhood friends, romance why not?, SESBIAN LEX

Word count: 6,780

Note: This fic was born from this bot which gave me juicy material to use here, part of the story arises from it, all credits to the creator!

Also, english is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistake in my writing. Enjoy!

It happened in the blink of an eye, the fleeting eye contact, a chill running down your spine as you stopped to look again at who you thought was dead or gone. You paled like a ghost, barely taking a step before her arms were around you, and you let out a gasp.

You barely recognized the woman whose face buried in your neck; the toned arms, the network of tattoos on her arms, the gear on the side of her neck, the pronounced hairstyle and the piercings moved this Vi away from the one you once knew, seven years did not pass in vain and both had changed a lot, but the memories still endured. You wrapped her with doubtful arms, insecure but at the same time overwhelmed by the situation.

Your mind was flooded with memories the moment you dared to inhale the essence of her neck, that sweet aroma hidden behind the sweat and leather of her jacket, the same smell that crept into your nostrils on those afternoons on the couch, practicing boxing together, hiding in the alleys to avoid the poor victims of your pranks full of enthusiasm and malice. Of that last hug that morning, before the paths separated, life changed, Vander died and Zaun sank into chaos commanded by organized crime. Everything had changed but that hug brought you back to sweet adolescence for a few seconds, before you pulled away.

"For God's sake, you're... muscular." you murmured then, looking at the taller woman with attentive eyes.

"Is that a compliment or an insult?" Vi's hands start to roam, finding their way over your shoulders. A smile appeared on her lips, the same thought kept repeating in her mind 'it's her, it's her'.

"It's an statement."

You could barely form a question in the face of such a situation, your childhood friend returning from a seven-year disappearance to stand before you in all her glory, alive, healthy, certainly different but still her nonetheless. At your sudden silence, Vi giggled, patting your shoulder gently. "Long story. don't wanna talk about it just yet."

You nodded, studying the Vi who was once four inches shorter and scar-free, realizing that wherever she was, circumstances had hardened her. “You were in prison,” you said then, not as a question.

“Surprise, surprise,” Vi muttered sarcastically. “I wasn’t dead. And i'll spare you the gritty details, cause I didn't exactly break out. I served my sentence, somehow."

She'd always had a habit of being vague, even during your childhood years. She never answered your questions directly, and she never explained herself when she got into trouble. It frustrated you back then, and it's no different now. "Enough about me. you're gonna have to fill me in. it's been like, what? Seven years?"

"Wait, I-" you had to shake your head and take a breath, cause suddenly having Vi before you wasn't among your plans. You were still at the alley. "Can we... go somewhere else? Grab a drink, talk this out?"

For a moment, she looks like she might refuse. For a moment, you wonder if she'll duck away, the way she always did. But then Vi sighs softly and nods.

"Lead the way, then." she takes a step back, folding her arms behind her neck. "I'm not payin', though.”

Gathering your thoughts and whispering a 'what a night' under your breath, you begin to lead Vi through the backstreets of a Zaun she no longer knows, but you do. Jericho served a wonderful octopus stew, and Vi was able to verify it once again after so many years. You sipped your cocktail, watching the hungry girl in front of you devour the plate, the Zaun market maintained its usual flow of customers and workers, a swarm of smells and sizzling of embers, murmurs, knives and pans to the fire filled the place.

"Now. You better start explaining how did you break out jail." you said.

The question doesn't come as a surprise - Vi had been expecting it. She sighs, and her eyes flutter up to yours, trying to find the words, trying to find the right way to say it. "I didn't break out. I served my sentence." she can see your skepticism, your disbelief, and she adds: "I got parole. Good behavior. That kinda bullshit."

"Good behavior. You?" you scoff.

"Yeah yeah, I was a saint, believe it or not. Guess I had a change of heart, people grow and all that."

"And now you're out and hungry." you comment, watching Vi finish the bowl and let out a hint of a burp.

"You gotta admit, the food behind bars is not so good." Vi grins at you again, her eyes flickering to your drink. "And the drinks either, care to share?"

Vi takes the glass, wrapping the fingers of her free hand around the base. She stares at the liquid for a moment, then her gaze drifts to meet yours, she's thinking, a lot. "Seven years... seven years is a lot of goddamn time. Almost don't recognize ya. What've you been doing all this time?"

"Let's see…" you say, your eyes scanning the market as you gather up seven years of your existence and rank them in order of importance. "I have a job, I'm… an interpreter."

"A what?" she asks, raising a brow.

"I translate, dumbass."

"Oh, right right." Vi giggled. "You work for the pilties, do you?"

"Actually, yes. I get many academic texts to translate."

"Ah, a sneaky rat. No wonder you'd take any job," she snickers. "I'd almost feel betrayed if you said you never went back to your old life of stealing and pickpocketing."

"I realized I couldn't lean on crime forever." you shrug. "Languages fits me better."

Catching up had never felt so necessary. Vi had undergone a true metamorphosis in prison, a wild flower torn from its roots and still able to cling to life with minimal water, in hostile, dry, cold soil. Now she was outside, eager to feel the putrid Zaun air against her skin, no matter how foul-smelling it was, to continue a life that hadn’t even begun yet. Yet it was the means that worried you.

"What's your plan?" you asked after a short moment of silence. "Now that you're out."

"Well, I gotta lay low for a while. They ain't gonna be lookin' for me out in the streets, but that don't mean I should be causin' trouble." her lips pull into a small smirk, as her eyes flicker to you. "Maybe I'll start robbin' the rich and givin' the profits to those in need. Or something like that."

"You'll get yourself in prison all over again." you said, rolling your eyes.

"What, you think I need you to lecture me, mother?" Vi's mocking tone couldn't help but annoy you. Again with that blind confidence and smug smile, hasn't changed one bit.

"Where are you staying?" you asked, sipping your drink which suddenly tasted bitter.

"Don't have a place. Can't exactly go back to my old apartment, for obvious reasons." her expression shifts into a smirk, a gleam of an idea passing her eyes. "Why? You offering a place to crash?"

"Huh, figured out so. You don't have a goddamn place to crash and still you intend to start robbing again?"

"It's not robbing, it's just taking something that some rich snob doesn't even need. Besides, I'll manage, alright?"

The conversation wasn’t going in the direction you expected, a sour feeling settling in your stomach as you recognized an old pattern that the years had accentuated in Vi; her stubbornness. It was one thing to be happy for an old friend who had gotten out of prison, but it was quite another to still believe that crime was a way of life and support that. And you were sick of that shit.

"I gotta go." you said, laying a bill on the table. "I have a paper to submit due tomorrow."

Vi's expression changed to as if she had been slapped. “Hey, I thought we were catching up. Where the hell are you going in such a hurry?”

"I'm happy for you, Vi, but I'm not who I used to be anymore. And neither should you be." you say, your tone so sober that Vi thought you were pulling her leg until she saw you get up from your seat and start walking away. Vi scowls and grabs the bill you left on the table, crumpling it up in her hand.

"Damnit."

Zaun had changed. It was no longer the fragile balance between misery and hope, but an overwhelming network of crime, wrapped in the growing business of Shimmer and prostitution and the certain tacit anarchy that ruled its existence. Vi needed a few days to get used to it, to recognize the city that saw her grow up and find a way to make her way through that melodious chaos. Crime had evolved, the presence of enforcers was increasingly scarce, which gave way to more aggressive, more experienced, more ingenious criminals when it came to benefiting from the few assets of the rest. In Zaun there were no rich people, only the owners of manufacturing factories, who pulled the strings and commanded drug trafficking, who could not be counted on more than one hand's fingers. However, Vi was not going to allow herself to feel strange in the city she called home, not before playing her cards and making her way into the market she knew best apart from crime: fights. With raw confidence and the certainty that seven years of training behind closed doors had given her the skills to hold her own in the ring, Vi went to the Pit and signed up for one of the night's matches. The result? A downcast and barely alive opponent, Vi claimed a spot she didn't intend to give up, and a bag full of coins. She felt right at home.

It took her three days to make a small fortune, yet her name was frequently whispered and attracted unwanted attention, putting her in a position where she had to remain low for a few days. She could keep that up long enough to make a living after seven years in confinement, but to do so she needed the hospitality and goodwill of someone in particular; you. You assumed Vi wouldn't incur in invading your precious privacy, but that wasn't the case. Not when, working on one of your latest translations, in the quiet of your apartment just a couple of blocks from the red-light district, you felt the fleeting passing of a shadow in front of the window and your alarms went off.

She had to admit, you'd picked yourself a nice little spot to settle down in. Vi could have sworn you would have moved to Piltover, after hearing about your choice of profession, but here you were, all cozy in a fancy apartment in Zaun. She couldn't be sure it was exactly safe, but you probably had ways to deal with that. A couple hours of lurking around in the shadows, and she found herself outside of your apartment window, looking in. Vi takes a moment to study the view through the window, observing your movements inside. She should probably announce her presence, but she can't help the little thrill that comes from the thought of spooking you. 

Believing herself undetected, Vi stepped into the house while investigating what she thought was your office. A room cradled with an aesthetic chaos of shelves, books and plants, a kitten sleeping by the window, very self-absorbed in his feline dreams to recognize a strange smell in his safe space. But you certainly had better instincts than Pepper.

"Stop there or I'll blow your fucking head." you stated, holding a gun against Vi's head, not even recognizing her in the darkness of the room.

Vi's eyes widen as you suddenly speak, the cold metal of the gun pressing against her skin. She raises both hands in a small surrendering gesture.

"Woah, woah! Easy, doll, it's just me."

You remove the gun from her temple, realizing that it was Vi and not another petty thief. "For god's sake." you grumbled, putting the pistol down and turning the lights on. You were in your pajamas, messy hair and still glasses on from working for hours. "What the hell are you doing by breaking into my place?"

She responds to your question with a dismissive shrug. "I need a place to crash, darling."

"Oh, fuck off." you spat, quickly walking towards the desk to put the gun into the drawer again. Pepper woke up with a hiss, just then realizing a intruder was inside. He bristled. "Why would I? You got yourself in trouble, don't you?"

"Technically not trouble. At least, not yet." she glances down at the hissing ball of fur on the floor, and scowls. "You got a damn cat. Of course you do."

She averts your gaze, shifting awkwardly. "I need a place to crash. at least for the night. My place from... before ain't exactly available to me right now."

You can't help but let out a sarcastic laugh, holding your hands akimbo. "I can't afford to have tenants, you know? Especially not the troublesome ones."

"I ain't a tenant, I'm just asking for a sofa to sleep on for one night. It's not a big deal." insists Vi, her tone softening, just like her eyes. Gosh, no, not that look.

When it comes to Vi, you resistance diminished. It was the years of friendship perhaps, or the fact that this ex-convict with deep eyes and attractive bearing softened something inside you, but to tell her 'no' has been always difficult. Even now.

"Just for tonight?" you asked, as Pepper descended from his pedestal to sniff the boots of this new guest. He didn't liked what he smelled.

"Yeah, just for tonight." she hesitates for a moment, before a small smirk spreads across her face. "Unless you have a queen-size bed that I could fit in instead."

"You'd wish." you grunted.

While you were looking for a blanket for this unplanned guest, Vi studied the room she was in. Apart from the academic chaos that surrounded the desk, the rest of the room was tidy and harmonious. In front of the plum-colored sofa, there was a coffee table, on it a couple of books and a candle, along with what Vi soon recognized as a stash. The candle catches her attention for a moment, and her gaze flicks to the small pipe sitting on the coffee table. Interesting. definitely not the doll I remember.

Behind her, a large shelf stood, next to a series of windows that allowed the moon to sneak in, in addition to Pepper's pedestal, fluffy and scratched. The room was composed of green, purple and orange tones, the string of lights hanging from the ceiling gave it a cozy and calm air.

"Here." you said, handing Vi the blanket.

"Thanks." she mumbles.

"Stay away from my stuff, you hear me? And the booze as well, you drunkie."

A small scoff escaped her lips once you closed the door, and she shifts under the blanket, getting comfortable. She takes a moment, before her gaze drifts over towards Pepper.

"Watcha glaring at, ya little shit." She mutters, the corner of her mouth curving up again.

Vi didn't want to abuse your trust, but she couldn't help but inspect the privacy of your office the next morning. Her desk was really a source of curiosity for her, with that amount of trinkets, sheets, books and notes. The carnivorous plant next to them seemed to be watching her, as if she wanted to bite her finger off if Vi dared to sniff through the drawers. But she was an ex-convict and that was a fucking plant.

Inside the drawers were spread documents and bills, you earned quite well for translation, and many orders came from the science district in Piltover, or failing that, from the shimmer factories in Zaun. You made no distinctions, you just worked. This could not help but annoy Vi a little, working for drug producers was certainly not ethical, but a woman like her had no right to talk about ethics either.

Pepper's hiss took her out of her thoughts, the gray cat looked at her with the disdain and suspicion of a human. As if he knew of her past mistakes, of the fact that she turned to crime from a young age, that she was unable to protect Powder when she needed it most, that as soon as she got out of prison her life seemed to point to repeating the same pattern of crime she had grown up with. But Vi had to be wiser this time, play her cards right, break a cycle she was too accustomed to. She let out a sigh, grabbing her jacket before she left the apartment through the window.

Vi was a silent visitor during the nights, she preferred not to bother you since she knew that her ability to stay on the couch depended on the owner's mood, but you also didn't admit that you were starting to get used to and even wish for the presence of the pink-haired woman at home. First there were brief conversations under the cover of night, then a shared cigarette and an improvised dinner, then it was talking about aspirations and fears. Suddenly Vi felt as close as when you were both fifteen. But mischief no longer appeared as the main act of your interactions, but something else that certainly felt different, an unknown spark that was missing before and that made Vi so pleasant to look at.

Days went by, she came brusied and exhausted from her fights to just crash on the sofa and sleep her pain away. It's been two months with such dynamic and you accepted it.

Vi shifted on the couch, an unusual weight on her stomach saying good morning to her and soon, with sunlight filtering through the curtains, Pepper let out a feline complaint. The cat rested on Vi, naturally comfortable after so many visits from her. Sitting up, Vi studied the room and was surprised to see a lump lying on the desk in front of the couch, you had been up late working again.

“She’s going to work herself to death at this point.” Vi muttered, carefully pushing Pepper off her lap and heading to the desk. Vi knew about the constant commissions that rained down in a never-ending stream of work, but she’d also seen you falling asleep during the day, forgetting to eat, and the dark furrow under your eyes worsening. The woman sighed, gently pushing you off the surface to lift you up with ease, carrying you to your room. You mumbled something along the way, ineligible but akin to a complaint that did nothing but amuse Vi.

As your back hit the soft surface of the bed, your hands sought out Vi’s, pulling her along with you. The woman was initially taken aback by this sudden display of affection, you weren’t one to hug or seek contact, but you looked sick and tired and she couldn’t say no to a person in that condition. She snuggled up to you, running a calloused but gentle hand up your arm, burying her fingers in the strands of your hair. "You really ain't taking care of yourself, cupcake." mumbles Vi, cupping your cheek as her thumb gently stroked your nose.

And at the sight of you, your haggard face against the mattress, the sun streaming through the window and outlining your huddled figure, Vi found a new purpose, someone to protect. And as soon as you fell asleep, she got up, put on her jacket and headed to the only place she knew for sure would allow her to make some quick money.

“Black?” you asked, only a month later, holding the small bottle of black dye as Vi wet her hair in the sink. If Vi understood anything about street fighting, it was that a character was the best way to get the public’s attention, the attention turning into bets and the bets into money. For several weeks now, Violet had been arriving at the apartment late at night, bruised, exhausted and with a small bag of coins in her pocket. “For you, doll” the woman would murmur, barely taking the time to kick off her boots before landing on the couch and falling asleep. At first you thought it was just another risky business Vi was getting into, but after a couple of weeks you realized that the name “Vi” was whispered among the alleys and the market, and that she carried the title of undefeated for more than five matches in a row. She was a champion, no doubt about it, and the beneifts from her profession meant more support for household expenses. Suddenly Vi had become your partner, and all she asked in return was a good talk and for you to heal her wounds. And certainly you would do so.

A smirk crept over her lips at the sight of the bottle resting in your hands. "Yeah, black. I'm sick of standin' out. The pink's too bright." her eyes flick to you again, a mischievous look in them. "You're gonna help me out, right? I don't wanna make a mess of myself while trying to do it alone."

You looked at the little bottle of dye and then at Vi, knowing that once she gets an idea inside her head, nothing can erase it unless she tries it. You sighed. "Sit down," you said at last, reaching for the plastic gloves and the cup in the cabinet.

It took you a good hour, but together, you both managed to dye her long pink hair a dark, natural black. Vi's face had hardened, her scars and freckles seeming to stand out against her dark hair. It was then that, in the face of a silence that spoke volumes, Vi was the one to dare to say the first word. "Gotta say, doll. You did a good job."

"You look like you fell into a pool of oil." you said, clearly disapproving of the new look. Even Pepper, who stepped into the bathroom, hissed at Vi.

"Ah, so even the goddamn cat's against me now, eh?" she asked, making you let out a chuckle. The dye wasn't the only thing that changed Vi's appearance, she left the striped pants and red jacket at home, getting herself tight jeans, ripped at the knees, leather boots, a jacket of the same material, provided with gold studs and the print of a two-headed wolf on the back and covering her bust, bandages wrapped tightly. She looked almost unrecognizable, intimidating. Watching her grab her bag and head for the door that night, you couldn't help but feel anxious and think of the worst case scenarios.

You let out a sharp sigh and spoke up. "Vi, wait. You don't have to keep doing this, y'know? Fighting. I'm sure we can find another way."

Vi frowns at your words, her grip on the doorknob tightening.

"Nah, don't start with that." Her eyes narrow slightly, a touch of defensiveness in her voice. "I've always fought, y'know? it's what I'm good at. I don't know anything else."

"I don't want you to get hurt." you insisted, stepping closer.

"I know how to take care of myself, dollface. I'm not some weak little kid anymore." her voice is a little gruff as she tries to deflect the concern.

"You've never been weak..." you mutter, your expression softening as Vi hovered closer. "But you're not invincible neither."

"Yeah, well, who is invincible?" she takes a step closer, closing the distance between you. her eyes dart across your face, searching for something. "You worry about me too much, cupcake."

"You'd like me to not give a shit about you?" you inquire, looking into Vi's eyes.

she scoffed. "Yeah, i'd like to see you try." her eyes flicker across your face again as her thumb briefly brushes over your chin. A moment of silence passes between you, the room feeling almost charged as the two of you stare at each other intently.

Her proximity was electrifying, the smell of hair dye and grease filling your nostrils, her firm yet gentle hand on your chin preventing you from looking away, your field of vision dominated by her, by her light blue eyes, her scar on her upper lip and eyebrow, her straight eyebrows, her messy makeup, her dark lips. "I couldn't stop worrying, Vi. Even if I tried to." you whisper at last.

"Yeah, probably." she mutters, her voice a hoarse whisper. You let out a gasp as Vi leaned in to kiss you, a simple, almost shy kiss, but capable of wreaking such havoc on your insides that your heart began to pound.

She captures your mouth in a gentle kiss, her lips moving against yours slowly, almost tentatively, as if she was testing the waters. When you gasp in response, she deepens the kiss, her hand on your face moving to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. Her other hand moves to rest on your hip, pulling you a little closer as you feel your skin burning with an unexpected thrill. But you find yourself pulling back, a hand against Vi's chest.

"No." you whisper, exasparated, overwhelmed, as Vi's breath brushes your lips.

"No?" she repeats, her voice cracking slightly. Her hand remains tangled in your hair, the other still lingering on your hip, its grip having tightened. "You don't want me to keep going?"

"We shouldn't..." you weakly whisper. It wasn't just the kiss, it was about kissing a woman, and that woman being your lifelong friend. How much were you risking by crossing that line and delving into the taste of her lips and the firmness of her hands? God, you could barely explain it to yourself.

She pauses at your words, her grip on your hip loosening as she processes the conflicted look in your eyes. Her gaze drifts across your face, taking in every detail, as if trying to read your thoughts.

"Y'know..." a brief silence stretches between you, the only sound being the faint hum of the city outside the window. "We can stop... if you want."

Her hand slowly falls from your hip, and she takes a measured breath as she steps back, putting a short distance between the two of you.

You feel her slip away from you, backing away as a look of disappointment settles on her face and the glow of desire fades. You swallow. "I've never kissed a girl." you suddenly confess.

She runs a hand through her dark hair, visibly processing this new information. There's a moment of tense silence before she speaks again, letting out a huff. "I figured out so."

Your eyes widened, watching Vi taking a step back towards the door. "I should get going, there's a match I have to win." she says, leaving the apartment, leaving you confused, almost upset.

During Vi's absence, you couldn't find anything to distract you. As soon as you sat down for a moment to rest after feeding Pepper, tidying the living room, doing the laundry, heating up dinner or taking a shower, the touch of her lips flooded your senses and produced an almost unknown tingle in your belly. The smell of her skin, the gentleness with which her hand settled on your hip and pulled you against her. You couldn't stop replaying the scene, with some uncertainty if you were allowed to think that way about a childhood friend, or a woman. You only found some peace once you fell asleep that night, in the wee hours of the morning you felt an extra weight on the bed with you, an arm around your waist and an "I'm home, cupcake."

The next morning, you found the space next to you empty. You assumed Vi had fallen asleep on the couch, but her boots beside the bed and her jacket on your dresser said otherwise. You got up, hearing Pepper meowing in hunger from the kitchen. You barely noticed the overflowing bag of money on the coffee table or the sound of the shower running, only sleepwalking into the kitchen to feed the hungry cat. With the animal crouched before its bowl, you poured yourself a glass of water and only then turned back to the coffee table. “I told you I had a fight to win,” Vi said from behind you, watching you count the coins and bills in shock. The woman stood by the door, her hair still damp and a not-so-disguisable cut across the bridge of her nose, eyebrow, and cheek. “This is a bunch of money.” you muttered, studying the woman before you.

"Bets paid good last night." she nonchalantly replied, coming closer as she ignored the money. You were the center of her attention then, you and your robe. "I want you to take a break, alright? From your job."

"A break?" you asked, Vi's sincere smile speaking volumes.

"Yeah, for a while." she reached out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, her touch surprisingly gentle. "You work too much."

Your expression softened, noticing the sweet gentleness which Vi treated you, how tender her eyes were at that moment. You couldn't help but lean against her touch. "About last night..."

Her hand cups your chin, her thumb gently grazing over your bottom lip. "You don't regret it, do you?" her voice is hoarse and low. Beneath her confident façade, there’s a hint of vulnerability in her eyes, a subtle fear that you’ll reject her.

"No." despite the inner turmoil, you couldn't regret it, not when you wanted more.

Relief flickers across her face, and that cocky smirk returns to her lips. "Good." her hand cups the side of your face, fingers lightly brushing across your skin, and she leans in to whisper against your lips. "Cause I’m gonna kiss you again."

This time it wasn't a fearful kiss, but deep and ambitious from the first moment, Vi pulling you against her and wrapping her lips around yours with a soft moan that only served to ignite a timid flame of desire that now sought to become a fire. You closed your eyes and dared to hold her cheek, testing a terrain unknown to you but dominated by her. She wanted to be gentle with you, to ease you into this new terrain, but her desire for you overpowered her self-restraint and the kiss quickly turned hungry and greedy.

"Please, just..." she whispered against your lips, a hand sneaking underneath your robe to grasp your waist. "Let's sit down."

Vi landed on the couch, pulling you closer until you were straddling her, taking possession of the back of your neck to pull you into another kiss. You moaned against her lips, savoring every sensation as if it were a dish you’d never tried before but surprisingly tasted delightful and addictive. Vi smelled like shampoo, her lips were soft and her hands were calloused but gentle. One of them ran down your spine over your robe, and you stepped back to quickly remove it.

She kissed your neck, running gentle palms up the expanse of your neck and chest, shyly cupping one of your breasts before you pulled away to look at her. She understood the approval in your eyes, bringing her hands behind your thighs to hoist your hips so your chest faced her. You let out a sigh at the wetness of her mouth enveloping your nipple, a gentle, tentative suck that made you clench in a new way. “Fuck…” you moaned, at the same time as their hands massaged your buttocks and dared to slap them.

"I was waiting for you to start swearing." she whispered against your tits, one of her hands running along your spine before you felt the urge for more.

Your ass landed again, this time Vi’s knee between your legs as she kissed you again. You wanted more, you wanted to know what else could be offered by a woman whose experiences had hardened her character but were unable to sour her kisses and moans. Vi still had so much love to offer, and you knew she loved you, every action, every look said it. The way she made you breakfast while you dealt with endless loads of work at your desk said it, her banal conversations that sought to lift your spirits said it, her hands holding you as if you were physically a necessity said it, the bags of money resting on the table said it, and her bruises from brutal fights where her main motivation was you, said it. Vi always loved you, but it was only a matter of time before you realized it was a romantic affection, not a friendly one.

You were exasperated, your hips rocking as Vi pressed her knee into your core, a delicious friction that produced a pleasant, addictive tingle, your wetness speaking for itself. Vi gripped your waist tightly, setting the pace, watching you with attentive eyes and parted lips. You found yourself moaning against her lips, kissing her in fits and starts before you had to pull back for more. "You're so pretty." she whispered.

You leaned in for another kiss, before your hands went down to pull Vi's top off. The contrast was clear, Vi standing out for her muscles and roughness, the network of tattoos on her arms and back capturing your attention for a moment before you ran a hand over her chest. Discreet glances spoke, and the moans that indicated something was going (very) right. Vi patted your thigh before you withdrew from her lap, sliding your panties down gently as she placed a trail of kisses from your hip to your knee.

You felt self-conscious, Vi’s gaze seemed to take in every last detail of your body, from the bones of your hips, to your navel, to the pubic hair that covered your crotch. But your insecurity had no place in the eyes of a woman who simply wanted you for being you. “Don’t give me that look, you’re gorgeous.” She smiled, her hand settling between your legs as she probed your wetness. “Shh… just checking.” She whispered, her thumb gently circling your clit. “Does that feel good?”

"Yes..." you moaned, the suggestive wet noises making you shiver. "Really good." you spread your legs wider, giving Vi the consent to continue further.

You lifted one knee onto the couch as a finger gently entered and curled towards the nearest wall of your insides, giving you a sweet tickle. Vi studied your expressions, the way your breathing quickened and your hands rested on her shoulders for support.

"You're so soft..." she murmured, her own breathing labored as she continued to watch your expressions closely, seeking any sign of discomfort. "Tell me if it hurts." her free hand lightly stroked your thigh, a gesture of reassurance while she checked on you constantly, realizing your reaction came from sole pleasure and not pain at all. Soon enough she eased a second finger and a sigh escaped her lips as she felt you clenching around her.

"That's it..." she muttered against your mouth as she leaned in to kiss you, her fingers slowly working in and out of you. Her touch was gentle but firm, as if she was being careful not to hurt you.

Your knees threatened to buckle, the constant motion inside you awakened nerve endings you thought were inert, Vi’s ears searching to pick up your every grunt and moan. Her breathing quickened, before she let out a hiss and pulled her fingers away. A quiet whine escaped your lips and she took a moment to catch her breath. "Sorry... just a sec..."

Vi stood up from the couch, cupping the back of your neck to give you another kiss before gently motioning for you to lie down. "Lay back for me, cupcake." she whispered, finding a way between your legs as she trailed a way of kisses from your chest to your groin. There was a certain urgency to Vi's movements, a desire that made her breathing quicken and her fingers squeeze the flesh of your thighs as she parted them, skipping the main course in favor of running her tongue along the inside of your thighs, placing brief kisses and bites that allowed the blood to flow to your core, awakening your muscles, making you desperate for relief.

"Please."

"Shh, I've got you." she whispered against your skin, her voice a low and sultry rumble, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your inner thighs. "Patience."

You leaned your head back, eyes closing at the wet feel of her tongue as it ran up and down your core. She kept one hand firmly on your hip, the other on your thigh as she kept it apart. You moaned, looking down into a pair of lustful, delighted eyes, her mouth covering your folds, sucking and alternating with the tip of her tongue. Watching you, studying your pleasure, relishing on your sweet whimpers. “Fuck.” You moaned, your hips bucking slightly in search of more contact.

Vi's tongue worked you slowly and deliberately, mapping every inch of your core with a mixture of delicacy and desire. She released your hip and brought her hand up to your chest, her fingers finding your nipple and giving it a firm pinch. "That's it, just feel it..."

Her hand kneaded your breast as her tongue circled your clit, unashamed to make wet, suggestive sounds, to moan against your folds and to stop and look at you from time to time. She smiled, you looked splendid, needy but at the same time pleased, your cheeks slightly rosy, your lips parted, letting out moans and light gasps.

"Breathe, cupcake. I wouldn't want you to hyperventilate," she said mischievously, sticking her tongue out to deliver a long lick along the length of your core.

"Easy for you to say..." you panted, trying to catch your breath. Your mind was spinning, your body aching and desperate. But Vi had something else in mind, a way to drive you to the edge.

“Take a breath.” she whispered, pulling her mouth from between your legs to settle on her knees. “Look at me.” Vi caressed your thighs and moistened her ring and middle fingers with her mouth as you forced yourself to inhale and not exhale gasps of anticipation. Suddenly you felt her hand cup your chin, pulling you in for a kiss. You rested on your forearms behind your back as she inserted both of your fingers, twisting them in a specific motion that managed to draw a muffled whimper from you. It was sparkling, sweet, precise, and in the perfect spot. "Goddamn..." you whined.

"I know." Vi chuckled, kissing you again as the throes of an orgasm built in your lower belly and made your legs tense. "I know, pretty."

You reached a point where your thoughts were cut off, each and every one of them about Vi, her lips against yours, her fingers inside, curling and keeping a steady rhythm that did nothing but lead you down the right path to orgasm. You moaned into her mouth, pulling away to breathe once an electric wave shook every fiber of your body and your legs locked in an involuntary spasm. Vi rested her forehead against your chest, placing soft kisses as your arms cradled her head, yearning to be close to the person who was able to make you come so hard. Vi smiled, studying the way the pleasure settled into your muscles and your arms slackened.

"Good, babe, good..." she whispered, taking a look of your teary eyes before you pulled her to kiss her deeply.

You stared at the ceiling, the sun streaming through the window as your hands ran through Vi’s thick hair. You missed the pink, the dull black hardened her face too much. The boxer sighed, also processing the fact that she had just had sex with you and it had been wonderful from start to finish. This peace was new, it wasn’t temporary or fragile, it was latent, substantial, tangible. It was as if Vi had spent twenty-three years of her life searching for the calm that only lying on your chest gave her, and she couldn’t help but feel genuinely happy and satisfied. This is what life is about, not just surviving, but breaking down defenses and forgetting for a moment about being the strong one. You kissed her crown, Pepper climbed on the sofa and curled up between your feet and Vi's, purring calmly, like a lullaby.

"Looks like Pepper has finally accepted you." you whispered, making Vi lift her face.

"It was damn time. Just like her mom, stubborn as hell." she agreed, looking at the cat briefly before she nuzzled against your chest again. "He better get used to it, cause I ain't leaving your side anytime soon."

[thebadboyfanclub]

One Can Only Hope (Cregan x Reader)

First of, I don’t know why this particular song was stuck in my head while I was writing but I think it fits the aesthetic of how the couple works together, also I don’t care that they didn’t pick this actor for me THAT is what Cregan stark looks like, and also sorry for not adding the last detail it just naturally went with a different approach

'may I present my second-born child and my precious only daughter, (y/n) Targaryen, the heiress of driftmark"

(y/n) bowed lightly before the stoic man that it deserves to be noted how thick his fur was which engulfed him, the man nodded as a sign of acknowledgment to the princess and the young heiress (y/n) could swear that she detected a faint smile forming on his lips, to be quite fair no one could tell since the lords' lips were faintly visible due to his distinguished beard, once (y/n)s deep blue eyes met his there was an instant influence on her that cause her to slightly shiver, mostly from anxiety and somewhat fear of the unknown.

(Y/n) could only describe the sensation similar to placing yourself at the very sharp edge of a tall cliff, as one would gaze down at the water the little voice would whisper to take a plunge, release yourself from the shackles of overthinking, whilst your mind begged you to take a step back and forget about all of this.

Unfortunately (y/n) was well aware of the reason why she had to take this long of a flight on dragon back and introduce herself to the new lord of the North, her mother had put a tremendous amount of effort into making this a trip that could be enjoyable too (y/n) but to no avail, she did not blame her mother, ever since she was a toddler (y/n) would catch whispers of numerous people around her castle that would venture on whom she would marry, as the moons passed and (y/n) became a lady the pressure became tighter than her corset.

"judging by the tremble and pink nose you are not accustomed to such a cold environment"

"I'm afraid not, I am willing to try though, if need be"

She suggested as her voice usually would be colourful and loud- something that princess rhaenyra adored- was now barely audible, Rhaenyra dreaded asking this of her only daughter, seven hells the reason she even had (y/n) was because of her failed match that was created under ambition and desperation for allegiance, now she had to bare the curse of the prey becoming the hunter as she set her daughter up in hopes this could bring peace and safety not only to the realm but to their family.

“It is an honor to have the Targaryen family as our guest, I believe last time it was with Queen Alyssane, was it not?”

“Indeed, my lord, though I cannot recall if we have ever United our house bloodline”

“That is correct, such a pity don’t you think Princess Rhaenyra? We must correct that mistake as fast as we can, before all that let me escort you to your chambers, you must rest after such travel”

Cregan's humor was a breath of fresh air for mother and daughter, both of them felt more comfortable through his commentary and light-hearted chatter.

Rhaenyra was extremely thankful that her daughter understood why this must be done if she had to be completely honest with herself partially the reason she chose Cregan as her daughter's match was how the whispers of his strength and his handsome nature made it to the red keep, another thing was a desperate attempt on keeping her daughter guarded, mayhaps if she found refuge in the north of the vicious Hightowers pushed Rhaenyra to war (y/n) would be tucked away and protected by the Lord.

As they walked through the castle Cregan started blabbering about all kinds of things his brain could master, he was certainly nervous when he got the letter from Rhaenyra herself asking for her daughter to be betrothed to him, Targaryen and Starks had, of course, rumors of laying together but never being United in the eyes of the Gods, and to add the fact that the lady is in line for the throne, the wedlock and children would bring such different aspect to his house.

"the lady of the north has to endure the stinging sensation of the icy air, but I believe having a humungous dragon that spews fire on command should help"

Rhaenyra smiled at the slight declaration of interest and almost a very subtle way of claiming their betrothal to be a fact, it was (y/n) 's turn to nod excitedly and let out a small giggle, Cregan was not a man that went unnoticed, young, tall, strong, beautiful, any woman of her status would thank the gods for such a match and a part of her was curious.

Due to the small sign of hope (y/n) careless tucked a strand behind her ear, revealing a part of her to the Lord that he had never seen before.

“Your ear”

He said almost in a question, subconsciously his head tilted in order to get a better view, hastily (y/n) let her hair fall back again, concealing her left ear, flustered and internally cursing herself.

“I don’t believe I have seen something like it before”

“I apologize, I-it is-“

“Unique, I know that Targaryens usually have violet eyes as your mother has, however, I can only guess you found that boring and chose something entirely different, you have quite the taste”

(Y/n)s eyes slightly widen at the kind-hearted nature of Cregan's comment, (y/n) was born with pointy ears, her mother would always jest that it was because the fairies brought (y/n) to her as a gift, others would say that the Targaryens started to blend more with their dragons and that Rhaenyra indulged in blood magic to have the daughter she always wanted.

Gossip and fairytales aside, (y/n) tried her best to conceal that little thing like a well-kept secret that she now had pulled the covers from. Cregan only smiled, (y/n) seemed like a peach on a summer day, full of sweetness, and the nectar could bring back the dead, her smile could make your teeth hurt like how they used to when he ate pie, the pointy ears in his eyes only gave her a boost in her ethereal presence.

Despite that (y/n) had to acknowledge that the man was nothing but a stranger, she had witnessed countless loveless marriages and men that sucked the life out of their wives,  besides all of that she pushed those types of thoughts to the side and masked her dark thoughts for the future with a brave face.

-

"Mother!"

(Y/n) exclaimed as she skipped over to Rhaenyra who rushed to her daughter's side, it had been months since (y/n) had seen her mother, and as content as she was with her new life no one could replace the place Rhaenyra had in her daughter's heart.

"oh my dearest, how lovely it is to see you, take a turn for me let me look at you"

(y/n) let out a snicker at her mother's request even though she complied almost immediately making Rhaenyra nod in approval, to no one’s surprise (y/n) had grown to be a proper lady, her red cape with the thick lining and fur, her hair down and disheveld from riding her dragon, plump red cheeks from eating well, and how could one forget her smile, shining through the realm and blessing her mother with a sigh of relief, Rhaenyra was relieved to say the slightest that her only daughter was taken care of.

"Princess, thank you for inviting us"

"nonsense, I would take any chance to see my baby"

"Mother" (y/n) whispered in embarrassment

"hush now young lady, to me, you will always remain the small babe that curled in my arms, you will know what I'm talking about sooner than late"

"about that, Mother, it might be sooner than you anticipate"

Rhaenyra froze in her spot, her eyes doubling their original size as an audible inhale of breath was heard, (y/n) 's eyes watered and her arms seemed to have a slight tremble whilst she took off her cape to reveal the cutest swollen belly. Rhaenyra stood still for only a second before she wrapped her arms as tight as she possibly could around (y/n) who did the same.

"no, my baby, why didn't you write me about this?"

"I-"

"We wanted to wait this time, I believe you understand, (y/n) wanted to tell you as soon as possible, I advised her not to, forgive me, princess"

Rhaenyra might not have birthed Cregan though she had given birth to (y/n) and that meant that she knew when her daughter was hiding, like now.

(Y/n) wanted to be cautious, after they suffered an early loss of their first baby before her belly could even swell, inevitable fear overtook her, she had refused to ride her dragon for the first three moons and she did her best to remain abed as much as possible.

Thankfully, Cregan shook her out of it, asking her to take a walk as often as his duties allowed him to, he would also attempt to ever so casually bring up how her dragon kept all of the town awake from roaring and complaining, even for this visit  (y/n) only agreed after Cregan offered to get up on the dragon with her so she can feel safe.

"it doesn't matter, all that I care about is that my baby is happy and healthy"

"Don't worry Mother, the north has been extremely good to me"

“For that I am certain, well then, let us celebrate, my little babe is having a little babe”

-

"It is good to see you back and we’ll, my lord"

"it is good to be back, especially with such a catch might I add, tell the cook to prepare the Stagg for supper, give the wild pig for you and the others"

"you are utmost gracious my lord, the princess is waiting for you in your chambers"

"wonderful, do not let anyone disturb us, I wish to stay by her side until supper is served"

Cregan skipped the way into his chambers, he was too caught up in the rush of the hunt and the excitement of reconnecting with his lady wife to notice the nods and stiff giggles of the servants and guards.

He didn't bother to knock, even if he was indecent there was nothing he hadn't seen, secretly he hoped to see her swollen belly bare, as it grew bigger Cregan had adored to kiss on her belly and rub it as he felt the kicks and moves of their child, together they would make plans for the future, like making sure the babe receives an egg for their cradle or getting a wolf cub as a pet.

"my de-"

"shush, you'll wake her"

medusa had cast her spell over Cregan as his eyes focused on the most extraordinary sight, his lady wife holding their babe while she sat up in their bed. (y/n) had never looked more beautiful in his eyes, her hair falling past her shoulders as her arms wrapped around the child and her big eyes sparkling with joy.

The baby was wrapped in a white blanket and (y/n) slightly rocked it, it almost could fool someone that (y/n) had already given birth to numerous children by the graciousness in her moves, Cregan could pull a chair and watch this for the rest of his days, alas his curiosity and excitement rushed him to her side, sitting right next to his lady wife in awe.

"bless me, when did this happen?"

"last morrow, the labors started hours after you left"

"my strong dragon, you did this without me, I must admit I am slightly wounded"

"I did not want to send someone until I delivered her, make sure she is fine and all"

if it was humanly possible Cregan would swear he could hear her trembling heart, as her pleading eyes uncovered the insufferable pain she went through that held hands tightly with distress and a splash of grief.

(Y/n) ached for the babe she had lost, wondering if it had been a boy to a girl, if it would have their father's eyes, or if they would prefer music over hunting, Cregan felt helpless, watching his love suffer as he also grieved in silence, though now it did not matter, the gods took mercy on them.

At just the perfect queue, the small babe cooed pulling both of them out of their trance, simultaneously the pair looked down at the fruit of their ever-growing bond with humungous smiles and cloudy eyes.

"she is gorgeous, once you fully heal we will throw a feast, I'll send some of my best men for a hunt, you should write to your mother, and ask her if she can find Dornish wine-"

"my lord, let us enjoy her before we present her to the realm, she is barely a morrow old"

"she is a princess, our princess"

"Precisely, our princess, come lay with us"

as much as (y/n) comprehends the weight of duty and the strict order of customs that came with such wonderful news, she had grown up with a mother who had wrapped her and her siblings with a cloak to protect their childhood years, allowing them to be kids amid chaos and now it was her time to step up and build a fort that kept her happy and safe.

Cregan puffed out a breath of defeat before he complied and climbed as carefully as a man of his statue could

“Let me see, oh perfect”

“She will grow out of it”

“She better not, maybe the next one can have slit eyes as well”

“My love, I do not believe I can give birth to a full dragon”

“One can only hope”

Cregan jested as (y/n) laughed, the young babe had inherited her mother's ears, Cregan would often brush (y/n) 's hair away from her face to take a look at her ears, or brush his fingers over them as she laid her head on his chest at night, sometimes (y/n) would slap away his hand while he roared with laughter, others she would just bask in his admiration, thanking whoever took favor in her and gave her the man that loved her, pointy ears and all.

Requests are open!