#and this one surpassed by expectations by a long shot

[vxlentinescookies]

One-shot of (Jester) Shadow Milk cookie x (Princess) Fem Reader please 🙏🏻

Plot : The reader hates her kingdom because it ruled by the infamous greedy king (her father), later on her father hired a new jester and eventually the princess and the jester become close friend (they secretly like eachother) but king despise the idea that his daughter being close with the jester and is planning to do something bad.

I need yummy angst with fluff 🙏🏻

Also, we knew that Shadow Milk could easily destroy the kingdom, he's one of the beasts afterall-

→ ❛A rose in times of war❜

→ Pairing ; Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader → Quote ; ❛❛Do you trust me, my dearest?❜❜ → Genre ; Drama , Romance → A/N ; Here you go! I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it hehe

Once upon a time, there was a princess, caught in the claws of a greedy little kingdom. Her father, the King of the vast land, was greedy and infamous, often spending large quantities of money in parties and riches that could only amount to showing off his vast wealth. The princess was tired, exhausted of this behavior, so much that his father, in an unlikely act of love, hired the help of a handsome and great Jester, called—

“Shadow Milk Cookie, I know thats you you’re describing in the story…”

“Oh my dear (y/n) cookie, just allow me to have some fun!”

Ahem, long lost in the hills of earthbread, near Beast-Yeast, yet far away from most kingdoms, there would lie a kingdom, characterized for its poverty and power imbalance. Townsfolk would beg for a little bit of food, while the royalty boasted their riches and overabundance, this little kingdom was called Red Clover Kingdom. Ruled by King Clover Cookie, he’d become infamous in the chatter of his subjects and other kingdoms, due to his ruling with an iron fist and greed coating his words. Yet, despite all of this, one thing seemed to be clear, and its that he loved his daughter dearly. You see, the king wasnt always like this, there was a time where the king once was kind and full of life, but since the death of Queen Camellia Cookie, nothing but ruin and darkness had but befallen the kingdom. Consumed by grief, the King changed completely, fully submitting to the darkness in his heart and turning the kingdom into his own little playground, a truth he tried to hide from the Princess, whom he adored with his life as the only remnant of his wife’s legacy. 

Seeing the princess' saddened state, the boredom that leaked into her mind and into her life, the King came to a resolution, and that was bringing forth a jester, a companion for the Princess, said jester, was none other than Shadow Milk Cookie. Having infiltrated the kingdom as an attempt to escape from being locked out again by White Lily Cookie, Shadow Milk Cookie became appointed as the Princess jester, a job he relished in as it allowed him to partake into creating plays and making others laugh, but it also meant that he had to stay at bay, save he want to be found out, which wasnt that fun but he could manage. With that in mind, the relationship between the Princess and Shadow Milk cookie would slowly shift into one of friendship and comfort, as the Princess would find safety and a confidant in the jester.

“Shadow Milk cookie, you’re so funny” The princess would tell the jester once, laughing as he finished another of his puppet plays with expertise. 

“Of course I am, Im a jester after all!” He noted, and the princess couldnt do anything but laugh gently. 

“Of course you are” The princess would say with a smile, looking at the jester before thinking deeply. “And to think that when we met, I wasnt keen on you, you’ve truly surpassed my expectations, jester of mine… And Im grateful of that.”

Of course, the princess wasnt always keen on the jester. Thinking at first that he was a tactic of his father to keep her controlled, she would at first be coarse and harsh on the jester, hiding behind her fan as the poor cookie tried his best to make the royal laugh, but it was difficult. It’d take one specific parody of the royalty, presented only in front of the princess and some of her handmaids, to make the princess finally break into laughter, something that seemed to be unlikely, it seemed to finally have happened. 

“Right, that moment was quite precious, I hold it dear to my heart” Shadow milk cookie said with pride in his voice, holding a hand to his heart while another lifted his hat, and the princess couldnt do anything but giggle at his mannerisms “I mean it! Your laughter breaks my heart now, ahuhu…”

“Oh you silly jester” She’d say warmly, walking towards him to put a hand on his shoulder. “Truly, what would I do without you…”

Those words seemed to take Shadow milk by surprise, as he looked at the princess for long moments before simply smiling and hitting her with another one of his jokes, another parody of the royalty of the dark kingdom, and the Princess would hide her mouth with her fan as she laughed. Things were surely lively in her quarters, since of course, Shadow Milk Cookie couldnt afford to laugh at royalty in front of the king himself, oh no! Of course he couldnt, save he’d be sent away to the dark dungeons of the castle—And then the princess would be all sad and mopey, and that was something he didnt want to happen.

Silently, though, would their relationship deepen the more they spent together, the more they shared moments and laughter, it was something visible and palatable to those around them, the handmaids, the butlers, everyone but them. For the princess would keep on laughing, and the jester would keep on entertaining her. Knowledge of their feelings growing closer and closer together would eventually find the ears of the king, however, and nothing but anger would come from his lips as he thought of what to do. This wasnt meant to happen, he wasnt meant to fall for the princess, nor viceversa, but oh, who was he to say who the princess deserved? Apparently, someone because the next thing he did would be something that would mark the poor princess forever.

“An arranged marriage? B-But, father—”

“No buts! You will marry the prince of the kingdom of Rose Champagne, lest you wish to see that damned Jester suffer!”

With nothing else to say, the poor princess couldnt do anything but go to her room and cry inconsolably, seeing her life go down the drain as the King forced her to take a path she didnt want, to take the hand of someone she didnt love, it was all a nightmare, and as Shadow Milk cookie approached the room for the daily session with his favorite princess, he’d come to see the aftermath of a dark endeavor. 

“Oh Shadow Milk Cookie, my loyal jester!” The princess would cry out as she went to hug the cookie, who, dumbfounded, would hold her in his arms to soothe her. “The king, the king wants to marry me off!!”

“W-What?”

“Y-Yes, he wants me rid of someone from another kingdom, and I must abide lest… lest they hurt you…”

The words felt like daggers into his heart, as the cookie simply listened to the poor princess’ laments. And then, only then would darkness and deceit take shape and form inside of the cookie, feeling those old feelings resurface and take shape into the darkest of ways. He consoled the princess, then, the handmaids leaving the room to leave them both be, as the Jester rubbed circles on her back, shushing her down to a small slumber. Oh dearest princess, if only you knew how much this jester has grown to adore you, your smiles, your laughter, your voice and your overall self, then you’d know that somethings are only done in the name of love.

Deceit was the last name of Shadow Milk Cookie, and with the only truth on his lips being his love for the princess, he’d ideate a plan to get her out of there, and into the depths of Beast-Yeast. Carefully would plan a way to turn the handmaids against the king, the butlers, the cooks, the servants and the townspeople, which wasnt hard, as all of them already felt a certain way, less than favorable, about the father of the princess. Then, he’d call upon a riot, a riot to overthrow the king and lead to a better future for both the kingdom and the princess. And while all that happened, he’d steal the princess away, take her somewhere safer, somewhere deep within Beast-Yeast.

“Are you sure this plan will work?” One of the townsfolk asked, looking around the room as the jester, clad in a cloak, only smiled.

“Of course, I’m the princess’ appointed jester after all… Who else would know the castle better than me?”

That would mark a countdown that would end a fateful rainy day, deep into the darkness of the night, when the princess was sleeping, clad in a white dress, would wake to the thunder and the silhouette to someone in the balcony. 

“W-Who’s there…?” She’d ask, sheepishly as Shadow Milk would only open the balcony doors, extending a hand over to her. “S-Shadow Milk Cookie…?”

“My dearest princess, will you accept this jester’s dance this night?” He’d speak, then, with the warmest of smiles and the most devious of gazes. Truly, a meeting for a lifetime.

“W-What are you doing here, my jester?”

“There is no time to lose, princess, a riot is brewing within the townsfolk and the servants of the kingdom, we must make haste and escape while we can…”

“But…”

“Do you trust me, my dearest?”

Silence would fill the room for long moments, as the princess would think about what to do, who to follow. But deep within her heart, she’d run to Shadow Milk and hold his face in her hands, completing the moment with a loving kiss. It would be returned, gingerly by the jester taken by surprise, as he led them towards the balcony, and in a jump of faith, would they both fall in the middle of the rain into the garden. Roars and wrath would be heard in the kingdom as the beast known as Shadow Milk Cookie would take the princess away, stealing one of the horses from the stable to run into the distance. Loud galloping could be heard from one of the exits of the kingdom, Shadow milk keeping the Princess hidden under a spell of invisibility and the cloak she now carried on.

Legend says that the beast and the princess were never to be seen again, as one of the townsfolk would take over the kingdom as the newly appointed king. Nobody but the king himself, who rotted away in the dungeons would weep for the lost princess, save for a few handmaids, except those who had learnt the true plan Shadow Milk Cookie had for them.

‘I’ll steal (Y/N) away, I’ll bring her into Beast-Yeast, the safest part there is and…’

“Shadow Milk Cookie?”

It had been years since you left the Kingdom, since the titles of princess and jester started becoming meaningless between you both. You called upon him as he turned to look at you, holding his child in your arms in the middle of a clearing in the forest, where the morning dew illuminated you making you seem… angelic. Oh, how could he afford to lose someone like you…

“Yes, my princess?” He’d ask, walking towards you and cupping your face in his hand, he was much taller, much bigger, and yet, he held you like the most precious doll in the world.

“Food is ready, I was going to call you earlier but you seemed so stuck in your thoughts and I didnt want to interrupt that I…” You trailed off, feeling his finger dance around your lips softly. “... I love you”

“I love you too, my dearest”

‘... And I’ll make her my wife.’

[greengoblinswifey]

https://www.tumblr.com/greengoblinswifey/771997285730205696/thanks-for-ur-answers-on-the-dbfrafe-asks-im

OMG YESSS, I was dying for them to have an actual serious relationship 🤩🤩 just one more thing, how did the dad found out? Bc when he said “you and rafe are what?” at the beginning of the blurb I was like “why are we late to the conversation, roll that back from the beginning” 😭😭🤣 like I want to see his initial recation upon finding out if that makes sense

Thanks for everything omt

a/n— because i’m so generous, enjoy xo

The world as you knew it would come crashing down if your father had ever caught you and his best friend fucking. You and Rafe snuck around too much with a plethora of close calls, thus, you thought it was probably inevitable.

It was weird to wrap your mind around it, but Rafe knew your father better than you did with their friendship surpassing your twenty years on earth.

He was serious about you. You weren’t some dirty secret and he loathed that your entire relationship was you sneaking around behind your dad’s back.

His hands held yours as he stared into your eyes, waiting for your father to enter the living room. “I know your dad better than anyone else. And I know that it’s better we be honest with him about us being together.”

You nodded your head slowly, chewing on your bottom lip.

Your father was chill, he wasn’t an old head or anything and you believed him to be open minded but that didn’t stop you from being scared of what his reaction might be.

Rafe sensed your nervousness and brought you in for a kiss that soothed you, though it didn’t last for long.

“What the fuck?!” your father’s voice boomed throughout the entire house.

You jerked back, startled by his sudden entrance. This was exactly what you were afraid of. Granted, he didn’t catch you fucking or anything, but he saw something before you said anything.

“You’re taking advantage of my fucking daughter!” your father continued, anger evident in his tone.

“Dad, please,” you interjected. “It’s nothing like that. Rafe and I are in a relationship.”

Your dad’s voice thundered through the house, shaking the very walls. “You’re what with Rafe?!”

And that started the most heated discussion you’d ever had with your father that ended with him walking away angrily. Though, he did hear you out a bit.

Before Rafe left he wanted to at least have a one on one conversation with his best friend. They’d never had a disagreement this big and he was couldn’t leave without at least attempting to mend things.

He knocked on your father’s office before opening the door. Your father looked up, still seething from the ordeal.

“Why the fuck are you in here, haven’t you done enough?” he asked, clearly upset.

Rafe took a deep breath before starting. “I’m so sorry man. It was never my intention to hurt you or betray you. I’ve never seen her in that way until a few months ago.”

“It’s my daughter Rafe, that’s what gets me. Why did it have to be her? I know your reputation, you could’ve gone for anyone else,” your father bellowed, fists clenching.

“It had to be her because the love in my heart is only reserved for a woman like her. It’s only reserved for her. I didn’t seek her out, the connection just sparked in a way I didn’t expect. And you’re right, I have a reputation but that’s in the past. I’m ready to settle down and I would never ever hurt her. I swear on my mother’s grave.”

At the mention of Rafe’s mother, your father’s eyes shot up from his clenched fists. Rafe would never mention his mother or even swear on her unless he was serious.

He thought for a moment. You were twenty years old and capable of making your own decisions, he trusted your judgment wholeheartedly. You were one of the most intelligent people he knew and you had good discernment. You never brought home any guys so if you had decided to inform him of your relationship with his best friend of all people, it was serious.

“Alright fine. You can date her, I’ll give you a chance just this once. But I swear to God if you get my little girl pregnant this young or break her heart, I’ll fucking kill you and they won’t find your body,” your dad told him, firmly.

“100% valid and I’m on board,” Rafe said, “thanks man. You know I love you and I love her. I’ll treat her the way she deserves, you raised such an admirable woman.”

Your father stood up and Rafe pulled him in for hug. It was hesitant at first before they both melted into it. The hug signified the love, trust and years of friendship between them. It reminded Rafe of the hug your father gave to him the day his mother died, signifying they’d always be there for each other no matter what. It signified they would remain best friends through whatever hardships they faced.

Now, decades later, that promise stood firm, no matter the circumstance and apprehension.

“Take care of her man. She’s my entire world,” your dad said, tears threatening to prick his eyes as he pulled away from the hug.

“I will. She’s my world now too,” Rafe replied and pulled him into another hug.

Slowly, you pushed open the office door and seeing the sight before you made tears flood your eyes. You walked over to them and Rafe pulled you into the hug.

“I love you both. I’m sorry if I disappointed you dad,” you said, one arm around him.

“I love you more, pumpkin. And you could never disappoint me. Go live your life and be happy, I’ll always be in your corner no matter what.”

[emmyspov]

A Lifetime (Gil-Galad x reader)

Summary: It seemed like it was forgotten in the lore that there were not only Elrond and Elros, but also a third sibling: you. Before Elrond became the High King’s Herald, you had already chosen your fate. Like your younger brother, you would live as an elf, serving the High King and getting a bit closer with him than imagined. Set in the time of the second season of Rings of Power.

author’s note: it’s been a looong time since i actually wrote something, so excuse this crusty-rusty excuse of work, but i just had to write something before i start my job tomorrow, especially after seeing the interview in which benjamin walker stated that he wants Gil-Galad to be kissed! i used “meldanya” for my beloved in the story - and tried my best to keep it gender-neutral :)

warnings: mentions of war and terrible times and kissing? that should be it, if not, let me know <3

word count: 743

edit is mine, all pics are from pinterest :)

You bowed as you entered Gil-Galad’s chambers: “How may I assist you today, High King?”

Ever since Elrond had been appointed Commander to lead an army to Eregion, you had found yourself almost constantly in the king’s presence, helping him not only with his speeches and council planning, but also your regular tasks. You, personally, were responsible for his well-being, ensuring he ate and drank regularly, selecting his garments for each day, and – over time – also keeping him informed on Lindon’s gossip. It led to you two being… closer with each other than expected. Which in return made the king ask for your presence in the evenings as well.

He never told you, but with the growing shadow over Middle Earth, you were the only one who could put his mind at ease. Especially when you brushed his hair – you were far gentler than any of his maids – and made him smile like no one else could.

He shook his head at your bow. How many times had he told you that you had long surpassed such formalities? With a sigh, he finally spoke, “I’ve made the decision to ride to Eregion.”

Your head shot up. “High King-“

He interrupted you, dark eyes staring into your own. “A king’s place is wherever the need is greatest.”

“You are needed here. What am I supposed to do if something happens to you?”

Yes, one could say you were worried about High King Gil-Galad, but not for the reason others might assume. Sure, he was the King of all Elves in Middle Earth, but now seemed to be the moment to admit to yourself that he had also become the king of your heart.

He smiled sadly. “Let us not part with such dark thoughts in our minds. Please, help me gather my armor and whatever else I might need for this journey.”

What was needed on a journey like the one he was about to embark on? A journey he might never return from. No. No, you couldn’t think like this. So, you did what he asked. You helped him gather his clothes and armor which made him look even more majestic and beautiful, made your way to the stables to check on his horse and even sneaked into the kitchens to provide him with his favorite treat.

The whole time, your mind was racing. Could you tell him how you felt? What exactly were you feeling? All you knew was that you were happiest when you were with him. He challenged you mentally and, at the same time, brought you a sense of peace. You longed for him whenever he was away. Yes, you were infatuated with the High King Gil-Galad.  

Which made your parting even harder. You knew that you couldn’t burden him with your feelings – not now, when everything seemed to be on the brink of darkness once more. You watched him as he spoke with his soldiers before he made his way over to you.

“It is time”, he said, taking your hand. “I truly wish you could accompany me on this ride, but I’d rather know you are safe here. Will you wait for my return?”

You couldn’t help your smile. “I’d wait a lifetime.”

“That’s quite a long time, meldanya.”

You nodded and took a step closer, placing your hand on his cheek. “For you, it’s worth it.”

You were so close. You could smell him, feel his warmth even through the suit of armor. “I think, I would really like to kiss you, High-King. May I?”

He stared at you with an open mouth, nodding slowly. He would have never though that you from all beings would feel the same for him. His thoughts scattered when your lips came in contact with his. Oh Eru, they were warm. And so soft.

Before he could process it further, you took a step back. You didn’t want to overwhelm him. But apparently, the High-King had other plans and pulled you close again, capturing your lips in another kiss. He could taste the sweetness of berries as his tongue swept over your bottom lip and and you cupped his face with both hands.

The whole world seemed to stop as you were standing at the gates of Lindon, engulfed in each other’s presence. The king was breathing hard when you finally pulled apart: “Wait for me. Please.”

You only nodded, tears forming in your eyes. You’d wait a lifetime.

[honeekyuu]

love affair. [tsukishima kei x f!reader] chapter two.

>>The unsavory reputation that Tsukishima Kei has built for himself as the Sendai Frogs' rudest rookie puts his upcoming contract renewal at risk

or

Tsukki really needs a girlfriend, and you really need everyone to stop calling you his pathetic, pining best friend<<

series status: [complete]

previous. || masterlist. || next.

a/n: kyoutani/kiyoko was not the side pair i expected to fall in love with but here you go

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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

The two months that follow the start of the relationship between you and Tsukishima Kei can only be characterized as ‘ change ’. 

You find your flow easily after that first week, the unspoken agreement made on the couch that night at the forefront of every interaction together. In order to make the relationship convincing, you both learn to play the part to the best of your abilities. You learn to lean into the expectations of the people watching you closely, playing into them and even surpassing them — because you can rely on your understanding of each other, the kind of familiarity that comes with 15 years of history. 

You already know his regimented morning routine, because you were tortured into keeping the same hours as him in high school. You know that the muscle patches he prefers for his back are different than the ones he prefers for his shoulders, because it’s always been you who applies those patches to the places he can’t reach. 

In the same way, Tsukki knows how you take your coffee — hot almond milk vanilla latte in the morning, always, followed by an iced oat milk mocha with two extra shots of espresso in the afternoon. He’d accidentally gotten you a hot mocha once and watched you wilt a little but drink it, anyway, and then he’d never done it again. He knows you prefer to study not in the library or at your department, but on the quad outside of some random administrative building, because you’d once called it the ‘perfect ratio of quiet, focus space and people-watching from afar’. 

So, when people swoon and scream online about how someone had seen you tearing down the aisles of the nearest convenience store at 5am after Tsukki had pulled a muscle while out for a run — your hands picking out his patches without needing to think about it — you’re awarded the ‘ Great Girlfriend ’ points without really having earned them. And when Tsukki’s spotted ordering your complicated afternoon mocha without struggling — even asking them to remake it, because he’d tasted it and could tell it was regular milk — before wandering knowingly off to some random patch of grass by the Student Records Building, your Twitter DMs nearly break with the amount of people asking how you ‘ trained him so well ’. 

What so few people realize, even though your long-time friendship is brought up so often in the media, is that you and Tsukki don’t do these things because you’re madly in love and have made the effort to learn the small, seemingly unimportant details about each other. You do them because they’re ingrained in your understanding of each other. You do them because there’s no alternative; Tsukki will only use Salonpas on his back, and you won’t drink anything with regular milk because it makes your stomach hurt. These are just the facts, but, for some reason, they seem to convince people that your relationship is real more than being seen on a date ever has. 

In fact, the things you are learning about each other and teaching each other about are the larger, romantic details that people always assume come first. You learn that Tsukki’s default pet name for you is ‘ princess ’, but that, when he’s being intentionally antagonistic, he has a habit of bending down to your height and plastering a mocking smile on his face while calling you ‘ sweetheart ’. He learns that you show affection by feeding him, his arms always full of tupperware when he leaves your apartment and two – two, not one – lunches shoved haphazardly in his gym bag when you know he’s going to have a long training day.

And, of course, there is a lot to learn about each other physically. You have to learn how to walk with his hand in your back pocket or on your waist, because that’s how he likes to walk you to class. And he has to learn that, unless it’s a peck hello or goodbye, you tend to start with a kiss to his cheek — because you get too shy to flat-out kiss him without some kind of warm-up.

You learn that you like his hands very much, but that you like when he keeps eye contact with you more than anything. It’s in the way he beckons you to him after a game or in the way he watches you walk from the door of a cafe all the way to the seat he’s reserved for you. That, coupled with the contrast of him being rough with his blocks at practice but careful about moving your hair out of your face, guarantees that you need several long minutes to recover after a moment with him. 

He learns that when you look up at him with those doe eyes he didn’t even know you had — he’s most familiar with your eyes when they’re mid-eye-roll — that it takes an absurd amount of self-control not to give you everything you want. And when you tie your hair up, especially on the hot afternoons sprinkled through the start of Fall, he has to tear his eyes away from the curve of your neck and physically sit on his hands to stop himself from touching the sliver of tummy that peeks out when your shirt lifts a little.

In private, of course, these things are never issues. In private, you are, for the most part, the same as you’ve always been: two friends who fight and laugh and keep an appropriate amount of distance between each other. Friends who get together on Friday nights to drink and watch bad TV. Friends who never need to think around each other, because that’s the best part about being friends.

It’s just that sometimes friends do need to keep things from each other – which is something you’re both still learning to deal with.

When you try on new outfits and ask for his opinion, his scan of your body is cursory because he knows not to let himself linger on how this dress sits on your hips or how that shirt makes your boobs look. He’s careful not to let you catch him staring at your thighs, on display when you wear those cursed little pajama shorts. And he’s quick to always take the corner of the couch instead of sitting beside you, even though he itches to snake an arm around your waist and pull your side flush to his.

When he sits at his dining table, telling you about practice while you cook dinner in his and Yamaguchi’s kitchen, your biggest challenge is keeping your eyes off of his bare chest and wet hair, his skin still dewy and warm after his shower. When you write papers while sitting on your tiny, Twin XL bed and he comes over from the couch to bother you, you’re tasked with keeping your breathing even and your eyes firmly on your laptop, because there’s never enough space between you and you worry what you might do if you look at him. And when he checks the time and mumbles that he can stay for one more episode of your show – even though it’s almost always past midnight when he does it – you know to hide your smile behind your hand, because it’s expected that you’ll sigh and say ‘ just one more ’ like a normal friend.

In private, friends don’t unknowingly seek out reasons to brush against each other, and they don’t subconsciously wear less clothes around each other, only to chalk it up to being comfortable around each other.

But you don’t need to know that. And he doesn’t need to know that. Because as long as you both know the rules for being in private – “hands to yourself” – then everything else can be kept hidden.

In public, however, things are quite a bit different. 

In public, you find yourself in a no-holds-barred relationship where nothing – nothing – is off limits.

In public, the boy who used to bring his collection of dinosaur figurines over to your house on the weekends is the same boy who now picks you up from class with a kiss and the promise of free ‘ girlfriend-discount’ coffee. The boy who wouldn’t share his crayons with you unless you promised your snacks to him – that’s the boy who shamelessly buys you a small wardrobe’s worth of Frogs merch with his name on it, tying your hair back with a neon green TK scrunchie and unironically presenting a set of green pajama shorts to you, his face printed on the left ass cheek.

The boy who’d sling mud into the hair of mean little girls who would put their hands on you.

That’s the boy who puts his hands on you now.

On the small of your back –  a self-assured touch that guides you through a sea of flashing lights and reporters waiting at the entrance to the Frogs’ home gym. Slung around your waist – fingers hooked loosely into the belt loop on your hip while he stands with you at your favorite cafe’s self-order kiosk, his card already out. Tickling the inside of your thigh – the pad of his thumb drawing circles in your skin while he drives, his other hand reaching to cup your face so he can press his lips gently to yours at red lights.

Hidden under your shirt – fingertips kneading at all the plushest parts of your skin while he kisses you stupid at the front of an empty lecture hall, the door cracked open just slightly. Because – while it’s an obvious conclusion that any form of physical intimacy at home should be strictly off limits – the corner classroom on the top floor of your department that you know is unused at 2pm every day just so happens to walk a very fine line between public and private.

Public enough that you might be caught – as long as he’s not getting into fights , as Management is fond of reminding the two of you – and public enough that you sincerely see no issue with letting your best friend shove his tongue down your throat. Private enough, however, that you’re able to speak candidly to each other, even with your legs wrapped around Tsukki’s waist and his fingertips brushing across the underwire of your lacy bra.

That’s where you find yourself now, on a chilly Tuesday afternoon in the last week of October, after weeks of meeting up here. Your weight is supported by the table at the front of the lecture hall, skirt hiked up a little too high and hands curled into his hair. He’s bent over you, lips burning a path of bruises along the column of your throat while his hips, slotted between yours, keep your legs open and your skirt pushed up.

“You look good today,” He murmurs against your skin, your quiet panting the only other sound in the room. One of his hands is pressed firmly against your back, keeping you close to him, and the other is gripping your thigh, much higher than he really should be. But you can’t seem to mind, even when you feel the blunt edge of his nails scratch briefly along the line of your panties.

That’s the change you still haven’t gotten totally used to – the shiver of anticipation that’s started to run down your spine when he gets too close, the flip of excitement just under your navel when your body presses against his.

After years of not caring even a little bit about who he would take home from a party – about the rumors that would float around campus, whispered by girls who’ve gotten into bed with him – you’re facing the reality that is being attracted to Tsukishima Kei.

“Which part?” You mumble back absentmindedly, tightening your hold in his hair when he bites down on the crook of your neck, his tongue soothing the pain right away.

“Dunno,” He says, gripping your thighs and dragging your hips minimally closer to his. “I just really like this.” He thumbs at your skirt in explanation. Your body responds when he chuckles low, goosebumps breaking out all over your skin. “Giving me something to think about tonight.”

“You’re doing it again, Tsukki,” You joke, laughily breathily. He’d started doing that in the last couple weeks – making little comments like that. You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to it. “I didn’t know celibacy would hit you this hard.”

He sighs against your skin, shaking his head. “There you go again, not believing me.”

There’s an embarrassingly large part of you that wants to. But you know well enough that you’re not his type, so you’re not sure what could possibly going on with him if not an extreme case of blue-balls after two months without sex. Somehow, even after everything you’ve done together the last few weeks, it seems silly to think he might genuinely want you. Surely not.

“Well, you’re a flirt, so I can never tell with you,” You say, entirely honest but playing it off like a joke. He stops kissing your throat and leaves his lips against your pulse, breathing hard. 

“Name one time I’ve lied to you.”

You scratch your nails against his scalp. “It’s not that serious, Tsukki. I can take the joke.”

“Y/n-”

You laugh nervously into his shoulder, feeling him shift in annoyance. “What’s going on with you lately, huh?” Your insecurities peek through, and you’re stupid enough to act on them. “Should I let you off the leash for one night? To get it out of your system?”

It’s the wrong thing to say – even you know that.

His mouth leaves your skin before you realize what’s going on, one of his hands coming up to grip your face. You gasp, seeing that he’s glaring at you with those sharp, golden eyes.

“You really don’t know when to shut the fuck up, do you?” 

You blink up at him, your chest heaving. You want to look away, because, while you’ve seen that scowl before, it’s never been like this. And you know he won’t let you look away. His fingertips only tighten on your cheeks when you try, and he uses his grip to force you to shake your head.

“No, you don’t,” He whispers mockingly. “You don’t know. You just love to say shit that’ll piss me off.”

You have no idea what’s going on right now. You don’t know that you’ve ever seen this side of him. His condescending tone is nothing new – mocking jokes and rude comments are not new. But the way he’s treating you now is not that, and the way you’re reacting to it is not that. There’s something else, and you want so badly to blame it on anything that isn’t this newfound physical attraction to Tsukishima Kei.

Because there is absolutely no reason that the way he’s speaking to you should turn you on. No reason at all.

“Apologize,” He whispers, eyes steady on yours.

You blink stupidly, too distracted by the wave of heat that crashes over you. He lifts your chin toward him, eyes narrowing.

“Apologize, Y/n. For insulting me.”

“Did I insult you?” You bite weakly, your voice shaky and your heart pounding in your ears. You’re still his best friend. You’re still the girl who’s never backed down from a challenge. “Then you apologize too, for joking about being attracted to me.”

His eyebrow twitches with irritation. “What?” He hisses, clearly holding back.

“‘s not nice to mess with me like that, Tsukishima,” You say, your confidence shrinking by the second. You can’t handle much more of this – the way he’s grabbing you, the way he’s glaring at you.

His eyes flicker with something you can’t place when you say his name. You’ve noticed that, too. That he reacts when you use his full name. You don’t know why, or if it’s even conscious.

He scowl twists into a sneer. “You know, you’ve been really fucking annoying recently.” His eyes light up when you gasp, and he leans down, releasing your face in favor of planting both hands on the desk behind you, caging you in. “Making all these little jokes. Downplaying the shit I say to you.”

“Well, you’ve been particularly horny recently,” You say, some of your sense coming back now that he doesn’t have a literal hold on you. “Gotta keep reminding you that it’s me you’re dealing with.” You brush some of his hair out of his face, your touch gentle. “Before you do something you’ll regret.”

“I thought I told you to get over that,” is all he says, his voice nothing more than a whisper. There’s still heat behind it, but he mostly just looks frustrated.

“It’s not that easy,” You whisper back, your nose brushing his. “Especially not with the whole world reminding me that I’m nothing like the girls before me.”

So maybe you’re still a little sensitive about the 16-tweet thread someone had made last week, comparing photos of you and photos of all of Tsukki’s exes and one-night stands. He’d gotten the account banned before you’d even looked through all of the tweets, but there are still 13 side-by-sides haunting you when you close your eyes.

“Of course you’re not like them,” He says, rolling his eyes. “I don’t remember half of their names.”

You give him a deadpan stare. “Charming.”

“What do you want me to say, Y/n? That I don’t have a type?” He still hovers over you, close enough that you see the honesty sitting in his eyes. “Yeah, I have a type. All those other girls look the same to me.”

And then he grabs at your thighs, fingers familiar on your skin. You squirm, but he holds tight. “But that doesn’t mean I’m forcing myself to put my hands on you.” He squeezes you, tugs at your skirt and threads his fingers through your hair. “Doesn’t mean I’m putting myself through hell to do this to you.” He tightens his grip and tilts your head to the side, and you realize he’s talking about the fresh hickies on your neck.

He lets you go, standing tall and towering over you. You crane your neck back to look up at him, and his eyes flick down to the hollow of your throat. Your heart jumps when he lifts a hand and rests it there, fingers flexing loosely around the front of your neck.

That’s new.

“You think I would drag you in here and lay you back on this desk every week if I thought you were ugly?” He whispers, eyes a little clouded as he looks you over. You, with your legs still spread and wrapped around his waist. With your chest heaving and your eyes blown wide, surprise written all over your face. With your throat in his hand and no indication that you wouldn’t want it there.

“God,” He laughs to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re so stupid, Y/n. Two months and you still think like this.” When you only sigh shakily, unsure what to do with this conversation, he tightens his hold on your throat. His eyes are lit up like sunlight, warm but quick to burn if you make the wrong move. “Looks like I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”

What?

“Tsukki-” “Y/n.” 

You both jump, turning to the door. Nariko is rushing into the room, but, when she sees the precarious position the two of you are in, she respectfully averts her eyes.

“Nariko,” You gasp, sitting up. Tsukki’s quick to pull your skirt down over your thighs and help you down.

“Time for our daily dose of Sendai Sports ,” He sighs, clearly annoyed.

“Sorry-I-” Nariko’s got her hand over her eyes, her camera hanging uselessly at her side. She very well could have snapped a photo of you two in that moment, but she’d chosen not to.

You’re infinitely glad it’s her that had walked in.

“The other reporters figured out that you didn’t stay at the cafe after your class. They’re on their way back here now.”

You’d walked across the street after class to get your iced coffee and study at a corner table, but you’d snuck out the back when Tsukki had texted you to meet him here. Your coffee sits, untouched and lukewarm, on a nearby desk. 

Nariko’s the only one who’d seen you re-enter the building, and that’s because she’d snuck out the back of the cafe with you, the woman a frequent companion over the months. She hadn’t asked any of the questions she’s probably paid to ask when you’d gone in the side door of your department, and she’d conveniently stopped to tie her shoes you’d said you needed to take care of something on the top floor and gotten on the elevator.

You collect your bag from the floor quickly, tossing the coffee away as you fix your appearance.

“Damn it.” You look to Tsukki, who seems less annoyed with Nariko now that she’s made it clear she’s here to help. “We have to go out the back.” And then you look at Nariko, having accepted long ago that this woman feels like an older sister. “Is my makeup okay?”

She looks you over, starting to nod, but then she spots the bruises on your neck. “Uhm…”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, I know. I’m not happy about it, either.”

“ You were at the time ,” Tsukki mutters under his breath. You elbow him hard, and Nariko sniffs in order to cover her laugh. She still knows better than to get comfortable with him.

“You’re fine,” She says, glancing out the door. “But you should go now. They were coming in through the front just as I was getting to the elevator, and it’ll be obvious what you were doing if they find you. It’s better to be caught running and have the reason be implied – photos of your smeared makeup and wrinkled shirt will always look bad.”

“You said I looked fine!” You laugh, grabbing Tsukki’s hand and dragging him out the door. You’re both halfway down the hall to the far door, jogging hand in hand, when you hear the shutter of her camera. You turn back, finding her smiling playfully.

“I still have a job to do, you know!”

Your laughter echoes through the hall, and even Tsukki’s smothering a grin as you take the stairs to the fire exit. You rush with him across the quad, a few people spotting you and taking blurry pictures. You make it to his car in record time, your shared laughter growing when he drives by a group of reporters looking around the quad in confusion.

He drives you back to your apartment, the tension between you eased significantly. But it’s still there, lingering in your mind.

What had he meant when he said he would prove you wrong?

“Tsukki,” You say when he’s stopped at the red light near your apartment. “Earlier, when you said you would prove me wrong… What did you…” You trail off, wondering if you’re really ready to hear his answer.

He doesn’t answer for a long moment, and you think that maybe he’s not going to speak at all.

“There’s a party on Saturday night – after the game,” He says abruptly, and you have no clue what this has to do with anything. 

“Okay?”

“Wanna go?”

“Oh.” You blink. “Isn’t Saturday Halloween?”

“Conveniently enough.”

“Sure. Should-” You clear your throat, suddenly feeling a bit out of place. You’re not sure if things are the same with him after what had happened in the lecture hall, and you’re definitely not sure why he won’t answer your question. “Should we dress up?”

He breathes out a laugh. “Am I allowed to go as a player for the Sendai Frogs?”

“Oh, God,” You groan, rolling your eyes. “Way to be cliche.”

“Fine. You pick the costumes, and I’ll buy them.” He pulls into your lot, right up to the permanent group of reporters that just sit outside your apartment all day. The flashing lights start almost immediately, and he leans over the middle console, stopping you from getting out of the car.

He tucks your hair behind your ear, and you already know that the photos being taken are capturing the line of hickies on your throat. He smirks when you give him a knowing look, only leaning in and pushing his lips against yours.

When he leans away, his gaze falls to your throat. He takes in the skin there, his thumb brushing over the already-purple marks. And then he meets your eyes, that dominant look from earlier peeking through again. Your breath catches when you see it, but he only narrows his eyes when he sees you searching his face. His thumb taps twice against your throat.

“Don’t cover these up.”

You swallow, brows furrowed. “Why?”

He leans in, planting another quick kiss on your mouth. “How about you go look in a mirror? Might help.”

You suppose that’s as close to an answer as you’re going to get tonight.

–

You start to realize that maybe Tsukki hadn’t been fucking with you. 

When you stare into your bathroom mirror every morning for the rest of the week, fixing your hair and clothes and makeup but leaving the skin on your throat untouched, you start to enjoy seeing the bruises there. These little reminders that it had been him that had put them there, that he had done this to you of his own free will. It makes you wonder if maybe he feels the same way when he sees them on you. 

You get the feeling he does. His eyes flick to the purple bruises when he picks you up on Wednesday and every day after – the corner of his lips tug up, like he’s smug that the evidence is still there. Like he’s glad to show you off, those marks on your skin more of a claim on you than most forms of PDA.

The photos of you go a little viral for a few hours that first day, with the accompanying mix of supportive and hateful comments.

[2:33 PM] tsukkiyn4life : LOOK AT HER!!! I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE !!!!!!

[3:04 PM] keisolostan :  god shes such an attention whore lmao, concealer exists girlie

[3:25 PM] sendaiynfan : no bc him marking his girl up like that is so tsukki-coded. bbygirls so lucky

[4:17 PM] tsukkisgirl : the way i would just pretend she doesnt exist if i saw that fine ass man in the wild

[4:29 PM] frogsfan101 : she cant even make hickies look good, jesus. so trashy

You’ve learned that you’re not strong enough yet to ignore how those tweets make you feel, so you keep your notifications off for the week. Unfortunately, Tsukki handles haters a little differently – he’s using his new media presence to retweet hateful comments with even worse responses, things along the lines of ‘ you seem like one of those girls who jumpscares guys when she takes her makeup off’ and ‘ is one of your parents absent, by chance? just wondering’ . 

Management’s not in love with him using his platform like this – because he’s been doing it from the very beginning – but it turns out that Tsukishima Kei fans are eating this particular incident up, his popularity skyrocketing with every new instance of brutally defending his girlfriend online. Fan accounts create Twitter threads of every heinous thing he’s ever said, and you even see that one of his responses is trending by Thursday afternoon–

‘ maybe put down the thirst account dedicated to my hands and go touch grass – my hands are a little busy with yn anyway :))’

He’d attached a photo that he’d taken on Tuesday morning in his car. Your bare legs are in the frame, the hem of your skirt barely visible. His hand is wrapped around your thigh, fingers kneading at your skin. Your manicured hand – seen in other photos this week – rests on his wrist, making it clear that it is indeed you.

Tsukki had made it his wallpaper, the time stamped across your knee in that photo he’d attached to the tweet.

You sit at the edge of your bed your face in your hands. You can’t tell if you want to kiss him or kill him. Your phone buzzes with an incoming call, and you lift it to your ear without looking.

“If you’re not Shimizu Kiyoko, please hang up.”

“ You cheating on me? ”

Your eyes fly open. “You stupid fucker.”

Tsukki laughs on the other end. “ So, you’ve seen my tweet, then .”

“Are you kidding me? Why did you make that your wallpaper? Why did you post it?” You groan, throwing yourself back on your bed. “That’s so embarrassing.”

“ Which part? Because I’m personally a fan. ”

“Yeah, of course you are. It’s not your thighs all over the internet right now.”

“ Well… ”

You roll your eyes. You’d forgotten about all the thirst accounts – his hands, his thighs, his shoulders, his eyes. There’s even an account solely dedicated to every time his shirt rises a little bit during a game. 

“Yeah, okay. Fine. You win. What do you want?”

His laugh sends a little shiver down your spine. “ Have you decided what we’re wearing on Saturday? ”

“Shit,” You breathe. “I forgot.”

“ Let’s decide now, then. I’ll order overnight shipping .”

You roll over, the embarrassment of Tsukki’s tweet still heating your cheeks but otherwise pushed aside. You pull up different costume websites, searching through their options and describing them to him.

“We could be ketchup and mustard bottles.”

“ Was that a serious suggestion? ”

“How about Beauty and the Beast ?”

“ I want you to turn on Facetime and say that again with a straight face. ”

It goes on for the better half of an hour, Tsukki shooting down every choice. In his defense, though, you are suggesting absurd couples’ costumes.

“ For fuck’s sake, Y/n, pick something normal! ” He finally snaps, amusement lacing in his voice.

You laugh loudly into your pillow. “I can’t find anything! The only normal couples’ costumes are all super sexy.”

“ Okay, good! Finally, fuck. That’s normal! ” He sighs loudly through the receiver. “ What do they have? ”

You scroll carefully through the images of sexy pairings, trying to find the least humiliating thing.

“Wow, this is terrible.”

“ Use your words, sweetheart, ” He taunts, and you’re glad he can’t see how your face warms.

“Sexy nurse and doctor,” You start, hearing him hum in contemplation. “Cat and dog-”

“ Christ ,” He mutters. “ That one’s bad. ”

“Butler and maid,” You continue. “Teacher and schoolgirl– Ew -”

“ Wait, wait, go back ,” He interrupts. “ Butler and maid’s not bad .”

“Tsukki,” You laugh. “This skirt is so short that I can see the model’s ass cheeks.”

“ Send it to me. It can’t be that bad. ”

You text him the link, scrolling through other options while he opens the website.

“ Whoops, ” He says after a few minutes. Your heart stops, because you know that tone.

“What did you do?” You ask, groaning when he just laughs.

“ I accidentally bought it- ”

“Accident, my ass!”

“ Yes, definitely, ” He agrees. “ Definitely your ass – that much is true. ”

“Tsukki!” You complain. “You don’t even know my size!”

“ Yes, I do. ” He sounds mildly affronted. “ I pay attention. ” When you just bury your face in your pillow and sigh, he mutters a comment to himself. “ And I will certainly be paying attention to you in this outfit. ”

“I’m going to kill you.”

–

“I’m going to kill him.” You stare at yourself in the mirror on Friday night, wondering how much of a chance you have of getting out of this party.

The maid costume is as short as you’d predicted. To his credit, Tsukki had, in fact, known your size. But the skirt is so short that you can feel the cold air against your ass, even in the tiny shorts that had come with the outfit. It’s also snug around your tummy, the corset tight and pushing your breasts up until they start to spill out of the top a little bit.

You snatch your phone off the couch, Facetiming Tsukki with annoyance rising in your chest.

He’s at the Frogs’ gym when he answers, the screech of tennis shoes on the gym floor loud and the sound of Kyoutani and Koganegawa bickering even louder.

“ Hey-Woah- ” Tsukki’s eyes go wide when he sees the little maid’s bonnet on your head. “ Outfits came in, huh? ”

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” You say resolutely. You haven’t shown him the full dress, keeping the camera on your face. But you see his eyes drop to the lacy choker that peeks into the frame, interest lighting up his eyes.

“ Am I gonna need to be alone to see this? ” He asks, his gaze still on your throat.

“No fucking point in that, Tsukishima,” You snap, catching the flick of his eyes to yours before he drops them again. “The whole school’s gonna see my tits and ass tomorrow night, anyway.”

“ I’m sure you’re exaggerating, ” He says, but you can see him moving off to the side anyway, his back against the wall so no one can see what he’s looking at. “ Lemme see, princess .”

“Don’t you dare sweet-talk me, Kei. I’m upset with you.”

“ Yeah, I know. It’s kind of hot .”

“Tsukki!” You stomp your foot, knowing he’s heard it when he laughs.

“ Show me, damn it! I only have two more minutes of break! ”

You sigh in irritation, swallowing the nerves that have been building up and flipping the camera to show the mirror. 

“See? It’s too short, Tsukki.” You turn side to side slowly for a minute, wondering why he’s not responding. He just stares, eyes wide and flitting all around the screen. “Please say something,” You whisper, frowning at the mirror.

“ Don’t- ” He finally says, swallowing. “- pout at me like that .”

You frown harder. “Can we get something else?”

“ No, absolutely not, ” He laughs weakly. “ And I will pay you any amount of money to wear that on a regular basis. ”

“God, I want to kill you so much right now,” You sigh, turning to look at yourself in the mirror. “Look!” You point at where the skirt ends in the back, the little shorts peeking out. “Look at that! My whole ass is out!”

“ Oh, I’m looking ,” He says, nodding. “ Face forward again for me, princess. There’s something I wanna see there, too .”

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s talking about how your breasts sit in the dress. “Celibacy is not a good look on you, Tsukki-”

“ Don’t make me come over there, Y/n ,” He says, his voice distracted but clearly annoyed. You just laugh, hoping he can’t see the flush in your cheeks.

“What’re you gonna do, Tsukki? Come over and just look ?”

“ Why? Will you let me? ”

Your stomach flips, and you accidentally let out a high-pitched laugh, laced with nerves. “You’re stupid.”

He’s already smirking, seeing right through you. “ I wouldn’t mind taking a few pictures… ”

You shake your head furiously. “No way. Uh-uh. I don’t need this ending up on Twitter, too.”

“ You’re funny, thinking I’d ever let anyone see you like this. ”

“Hello?” You wave your arm in the mirror. “Party tomorrow? Whole school? Remember?”

“ It’ll be dark, and everyone will be drunk ,” He says, still staring at your chest. “ And you’ll be with me. No problem. ”

“I hate you.”

“ Yo, Tsukki- ” Kyoutani’s voice appears way too close to the phone, and you gasp, turning the camera away from the mirror. “ We gotta get back. ”

“ What? ” Tsukki presses the phone quickly to his chest, the screen only showing his white t-shirt. “ Okay. ”

There’s a silence, followed by Kyoutani’s suspicion. “... What’re you looking at? ”

“ Nothing. ”

“ Is that Y/n? ”

“No. Yes. Go away.”

“Holy shit, were those her nudes?”

You curl up on the couch, waiting for death to take you away.

“ No, you fucking idiot-”

“Tsukki’s looking at nudes! ” Kyoutani calls, his voice echoing throughout the gym. You groan, hearing their teammates start to clap and cheer, varied versions of ‘ let’s go, Tsukki! ’ audible through the phone.

“I’m gonna burn this dress,” You mutter, Tsukki’s face finally coming back into view.

“ Don’t even think about it. I’ll be there in an hour. ” He’s moving across the room, and the last thing you see before he hangs up is his hand coming down on the back of Kyoutani’s head.

–

By the time he gets to your apartment, you’ve already changed back into normal clothes, the dress laid out on your bed. He eyes it when you let him in, clearly interested.

“No chance of seeing it again tonight?”

“Not even a little one,” You say, unpacking the Chinese food he’d picked up. “And you better put that thought away, because I invited Kiyoko and Yamaguchi over.”

He groans dramatically, despite knowing fully well that this is always the plan on Friday nights. “How am I supposed to seduce you with them here?”

You shove a few cans of beer into his hands, waving him back to the living room. “You don’t. That’s why I invited them.”

Just on time, there’s a knock at your door. Tsukki lets them in with a loud sigh.

“You guys are interrupting my maid time.”

Kiyoko stands in the doorway, eyes on yours and disgust curling her lip. “Should we come back later?”

You laugh, beckoning them to the couch. “He’s mad about my costume for tomorrow.”

“God damn , Y/n!” Yamaguchi exclaims, seeing the outfit on your bed. “That might as well be lingerie.”

“Hey,” Tsukki says, snapping his fingers. “Only I get to look at the lingerie, you sick fuck.” He stands, shoving the dress away in your closet. Yamaguchi meets your eye with a grin as he takes the armchair.

“You two are nice and flirty tonight.”

Kiyoko takes the end of the couch, leaving you in the middle. “He’s in rare form,” She agrees, smirking knowingly. You just roll your eyes.

“I think he’s in heat or something. He needs to see a doctor.”

Tsukki throws himself down beside you, sighing. “Let’s talk about something else before I throw you two out so I can see it on her.”

Yamaguchi’s quick to choose a movie, and you spend the first ten minutes elbowing Kiyoko because she won’t stop snickering under her breath.

The night passes normally, the movie bad and the food good. The normal amount of laughter is shared, and the normal amount of drinking happens. There are no deviations from every other Friday night.

No deviations, that is, except for the hand that Tsukki slides between your blanket-hidden thighs sometime after his second beer. Your breath catches, and you have to feign a cough when Kiyoko glances at you in confusion.

You look up at Tsukki in alarm – his eyes are lidded and he’s staring at the TV like nothing’s out of place. But you know he knows exactly what he’s doing, because his fingers knead at the plush skin of your inner thigh, and his thumb traces delicate circles into your leg.

You wait until there’s a loud explosion on the screen to whisper up to him. “ What are you doing? ”

“ Nothing ,” He breathes. “ Just watch the movie. ”

You are unable to do anything of the sort, alcohol thrumming in your veins and your attention wholly captured by the drag of his fingertips against your skin. You shiver when his nails scratch gently at the underside of your thigh, and you hear him breathe out a quiet laugh. Your hand curls around his wrist when you feel his fingertips accidentally brush a little too high, a little too close to the hem of your shorts. 

“ I think you need to drink water ,” You mutter to him. He doesn’t respond, only finding the hem again. Your stomach fills with butterflies, because there’s no way to call that an accident, especially when he shifts his hand up and slips his fingers past the edge of your shorts. Your skin bursts out in goosebumps, and your other hand flies to his knee, his sweatpants curled up in your fist.

“ Tsukki, ” You hiss, spotting the smirk that pulls at the edge of his lips.

He squeezes your thigh one last time before drawing his hand away, and then he stands from the couch, mumbling to the group. “Gonna get water.”

Your heart races in your chest the entire time he’s gone, but you just scoot close to Kiyoko and lean your head on her shoulder. She glances down at you briefly, attention still on the terrible acting on the screen. 

“You good?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, swallowing hard. “All good.”

Your phone buzzes on the couch, and you glance at it subtly.

[10:52 PM]

Tsukki: come here.

Those butterflies in your navel explode, and your legs shake when you stand from the couch. “ Water ,” You mumble pathetically, all but stumbling around the corner.

He’s leaning against the counter, a cup of water in his hand and another sitting beside him on the granite. He says nothing while you reach for it, only keeping his eyes on yours. You swallow, the eye contact clouding your thoughts a little.

“Tsukki,” You whisper, pleading silently for him to explain what’s just happened. He just puts the cup down and turns, leaning in and trapping you against the corner of the counter. You stare up at him with wide eyes, clutching the cup to your chest.

“What, Y/n?” He sighs, refusing to look away. “What are you confused about?”

“Why you touched me-”

“No, sweetheart,” He laughs quietly. You can smell the alcohol on his breath. “I haven’t touched you yet. Not at all.”

Your face flushes, in full view for him to see, and you watch a smile form on his lips. You swallow hard, fighting to keep your wits about you. “You’ve had too much to drink.”

He levels you with a look of disbelief. “Two beers is hardly too much.”

“I-” Your eyes flick between his, trying to find something – anything – that will tell you what’s going on. 

But Tsukki just lets his gaze drop to your lips. You genuinely consider letting him kiss you.

Yamaguchi’s voice rings out from around the corner, full of amusement.

“ You two better not be fucking in there! ”

You jump, sloshing water on your shirt. Tsukki just takes a step back, watching you as you fumble to dry it, your face an unflattering crimson red. You leave the room when you’re done, not strong enough to meet his eyes.

You stumble back to the couch, nearly landing in Kiyoko’s lap when you throw yourself down. You can feel her looking at you, but you just hug her arm to your chest and hide your face in her shoulder, your water left unattended on the table. She says nothing, and Tsukki returns a moment later.

He sits a safe distance away for the rest of the night.

–

You sit in bed for hours the next morning, staring at the ceiling until it’s getting a little too close to the time that Yamaguchi said he’d pick you and Kiyoko up.

What are you supposed to do about Tsukki? Is he going to do that again? Is all the work you’ve put in to hide your attraction to him just going to crumble away? What’s going to happen if he figures out that he affects you the way he does? Is he going to laugh in your face, or will he reject you nicely? 

A quiet ding rings out next to your head. You jump, worried that it’s Yamaguchi saying he’s here already, and reach for your phone.

[11:09 AM]

Tsukki : stop thinking so hard about this

Your heart clenches, and you’re overwhelmed with a need to hear his voice. To figure this out now, before you go insane. 

You press call before you can think about it. He answers on the second ring.

“ Y/n? ”

“I don’t know how to stop thinking so hard,” You say, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and sitting there. “I’m not good at that.”

“ I know. You never have been. ”

“I just…” You chew on your bottom lip. “We had rules that I could follow. And now I don’t know what the rules are.”

“ No rules, Y/n. We don’t need rules. ”

“We do!” You cry, pulling your knees up to your chest. “We do, or else I’m going to get confused.”

“ What’s so confusing? ” He sounds frustrated. “ That I think you’re hot and want to put my hands on you? Or that you like when I do? Which part is confusing? ”

Your breath hitches. He… 

There’s no way he means what you think he means.

“Tsukki-”

“ Don’t fucking brush off what I just said ,” He snaps. “ Don’t do it. ”

You swallow. “I just… It’s just hard to believe.”

“ Look. ” He sighs roughly. “ You trust me, right? ”

“Yes. Obviously,” You rub at your brow, your head starting to hurt a little. “But I’m not your-”

“ Fuck who my type is, Y/n! It doesn’t matter! ”

“It does matter!” You say, growing overwhelmed. “It matters , Tsukki! What if I…” You sigh, giving up.

“ What if you what? Say it.” When you don’t, he finishes your sentence for you. “ What if you what , Y/n? What if you fall for me? ” 

“Yes.” You curl your fingers into your sheets, nerves flooding your system. “What if I fall for you, Tsukki? That’s a real possibility, and it’s stressing me out, because I don’t want to lose you.”

He’s silent for a moment, a moment where your whole world crashes down on you. You’ve said too much, then. You’ve said too much, and he’s trying to figure out how to let you down.

You whisper into the phone, trying to find some way to fix this. “Tsukki-”

“ Don’t, ” He snaps. “ Give me a second. I’m trying very hard not to pick a fight with you right now. ”

Your jaw drops. “What?”

“ Y/n, you’re so fucking- ” He sighs angrily. “ What is with you and thinking that it is just completely impossible that this could be reciprocated? ”

You stare down at nothing, speechless. His voice is sharp when he speaks.

“ I know you have body image issues, and that there are assholes everywhere making it worse. But you fucking suck at listening to me. I’m sitting here telling you I’m attracted to you, and you can’t be fucking bothered to hear me. ” He lets out a breath, and you wonder why it sounds kind of nervous. “ It is a real fucking possibility that I fall for you, too. I’m telling you to just trust me , Y/n. We will deal with whatever happens – whenever it happens – but I can’t keep doing this with you. You ignore the shit I say and act like I’m doing you a fucking service every time I breathe in your direction. Cut it the fuck out. ”

Your lip trembles, your eyes prickling with tears. “You’re kind of mean, you know that?”

“ Yes, I know that. And you’re kind of annoying. ”

“I know.”

He sighs on the other end. “ We don’t need rules, Y/n. If we keep going back and forth like this, we’re not gonna convince anyone we’re together. Stop fucking thinking so hard and just do what you want. ”

He’s right. You know he’s right. But it’s terrifying.

You don’t respond, just wiping your eyes pitifully.

“ Listen, ” He pauses, letting out a breath. There’s less heat in his voice now. “ I have to go. ”

“Oh,” You say, sitting up and peering into the kitchen for the time. “Shit, I didn’t mean to keep you.”

“ It’s fine. It was important. ” There’s a creak of a door on the other end, and then noise fills the receiver as he enters the next room, likely filled with his teammates. “ But… You’ll still be here, right? ”

“Of course,” You say weakly, standing. “But I gotta get ready in the next two minutes, or Yamaguchi will leave my ass behind.”

His laugh is quiet, and it eases your heart more than it should. “ Alright. Just… think about it.”

You stare down at your phone for a moment after he hangs up, still processing what’s just been done. What he’s just admitted to you.

And then Yamaguchi does text, and you forget all about these complicated feelings in your rush to get dressed. But, once you’re safely in the back seat and idly listening to Yamaguchi and Kiyoko ramble about nothing in particular, you get lost in your thoughts, coming to terms with everything he’d said.

You text him. Because he deserves an answer.

[11:42 AM]

You : meet me outside in ten?

He doesn’t respond, but he is standing outside when you and your friends arrive. He’s past the barricade, still being photographed but out of earshot and safe from the reporters’ questions. You rush up to him, seeing that Kiyoko is tugging Yamaguchi in the other direction, the freckled boy clearly confused about why he can’t say hi to his roommate. He seems to understand after a moment, his quiet ‘ Oh! ’ fading in the distance as Kiyoko pulls him inside.

You shake your head, turning back to Tsukki. He’s already looking at you expectantly, so you sigh and plant your hand on his chest, ignoring the camera flashes behind you.

“I thought about it,” You say, your voice quiet. He visibly perks up, shifting his weight and watching you carefully. “And… it’s going to take a lot of convincing, Tsukki.” When he furrows a brow, you swallow. “I just- There’s a lot that I won’t be able to believe right away. I’ve got my own shit, and all the negative attention doesn’t help. But I’m going to try, because I do trust you.”

He seems to realize where this is going – his eyes search your face, but you cut him off as he’s opening his mouth to speak.

“I’m going to try,” You repeat. “I’m going to try this without rules.” You watch as his face changes, not quite a smile but definitely pleased. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Because I know you’re right. And it’s not okay for me to keep doing this to you.” Your fingers curl into his shirt, and you sigh. “But, Tsukki, for fuck’s sake, if I fall for you and you don’t let me down nicely, I will fucking kill you.”

“God, I can’t wait to prove you wrong,” He laughs. “You’re fucking insane.”

You roll your eyes, using your grip to pull him down to you. His gaze drops to your lips, and you lean forward, closing the distance.

“ Good luck today ,” You whisper against his mouth. Both his hands cup your face, and you’re forced up onto your tiptoes as he rises to full height. The air is filled with the sound of camera shutters, but you just cling to the front of his uniform. He breaks the kiss for only a moment, and you whisper one last comment.

“And you better not be expecting me to put out tonight just because my costume’s skimpy.”

He lets out a surprised laugh, shaking his head as he kisses you again.

“Damn. Now I’m too distracted to play.”

–

“Does this look okay?” You ask, stepping out of the bathroom. Kiyoko’s touching up her hair in the mirror by the door, her nurse’s outfit and your maid’s outfit equally short. She eyes you in the reflection, and then her pigtails swing as she spins in place to face you.

“Wow. You look so slutty.”

You give her an exasperated look. “Do I? Are my tits out?”

“Incredibly out,” She says, staring at how they spill out of the corset. She gestures for you to turn in place, whistling low when she spots how short the skirt is. “Oh, yeah. Tsukki’s gonna love you in this.”

Your face heats. “ Yeah, I know, ” You mumble to yourself, but you know she’s heard it when you meet her eyes.

“Pardon?”

“I, uh-” You scratch at your nose. “-showed it to him already.” When she only lifts her brows in disbelief, you look away. “Yesterday. I tried it on and called him.”

“Jesus, Y/n,” She says, laughing. “You might as well just fuck him already.”

“No!” You cry, hiding your face in your hands. “Things are still the same! They’re just-” You smile lamely. “-a little blurry now.”

“Holy shit,” She says, stepping up to you. Her face is lit up with surprise. “You actually want to fuck him.”

“Hey! You can’t just put it like that!”

“Does he want to fuck you?”

“Kiyoko!”

“Oh, my God, he does!”

There’s a knock at the door, and you have to cover Kiyoko’s mouth with your hand so that Tsukki and Yamaguchi don’t hear her yell ‘ You guys are totally gonna fuck tonight! ’. 

When you yank the door open, Yamaguchi’s jaw drops.

“Holy-” He glances over your shoulder, seeing Kiyoko, too. “ Holy- ” He sputters. “You two look so fucking good!” He gestures down at himself, his zombie outfit not slutty in the least. “I look so bland now!” 

Kiyoko reaches for the side table in the living room, withdrawing a pair of scissors. She snaps them twice, staring down at Tadashi’s ripped, fake-blood-covered pants. “We can change that, if you want.”

The freckled boy eyes her with suspicion, but it grows quickly into excitement. “Is it bad that I wanna say yes?”

You laugh, pulling him into your apartment. “Go, Yamaguchi. Release your inner slut.”

He giggles, following Kiyoko to the bathroom, and you’re left with Tsukki. The door clicks shut behind you, the sound sending a shock of electricity down your spine. You turn in the foyer, finding him hovering over you. The tux for the butler’s outfit fits him perfectly, down to the tie and white silk gloves. His blond hair is gelled in a side-part, a single piece of hair falling between his eyes.

“Hi. You look nice,” You croak, still recovering from the conversation this morning. 

All throughout the game, you’d been struck, in waves, by the reality of what he’d said to you. That he’s attracted to you, that it’s okay for you to be attracted to him, too. You’d watched him move on the court – his brow furrowed, his eyes sharp, his blocks strong – and you’d been overwhelmed by just how attractive he is. Like there’d been some kind of wall there before, keeping you from experiencing the full extent of him, because you weren’t allowed to want him.

There, at the game, and even now, your body had been overrun by butterflies, their wings all beating in time and lingering deep in your skin. And there was an electric hum in your veins when he’d found your eyes at the game – the same hum that makes your skin feel alive right now, with him standing so close to you.

“Hi,” He says, stepping toward you and letting his eyes trail freely down the length of your body. From your little bonnet all the way down to the black, open-toe pumps on your feet, his gaze eats you up, those golden eyes hot on your skin. 

“Do I look okay?” You whisper, hearing Yamaguchi and Kiyoko’s laughter in the bathroom as she yells at him to stay still. The sound echoes in your apartment, but the air between you and Tsukki is so quiet.

He meets your eyes, his brows tenting in amusement. “What?”

“Do you…” Your eyes flick between his, open and vulnerable. “...think I look okay?”

He takes another step, forcing you back. Another, and then another, until your back’s pressed against the wall in your foyer. And then he leans down, flattening his hand against the wall by your head. You watch, barely breathing, as his eyes drop to your choker.

“I think,” He says, barely above a whisper. “You should ask me again at the party.”

You swallow, frowning slightly. “Why?”

When his eyes meet yours, that humming grows in your veins.

“Because,” He says, his smile teasing. “Our friends are in the next room.” His other hand reaches out, brushing your hair off of your bare shoulder. “And I don’t think they’d like what I have to say about you in this dress.”

Your breath is shallow and your eyes flutter shut, the heat of his body melting away your resolve. You nod, keeping your eyes closed for your own good. 

The bathroom door opens, and you draw in a breath of relief, prying your eyes open. Tsukki’s leaning against the opposite wall calmly, tilting his head to watch Yamaguchi come out of the bathroom behind you. 

“Look!” Tadashi giggles, strutting out to the living room. You turn, meeting Tsukki’s eyes shakily for a moment before redirecting your attention to the boy posing behind your couch. Kiyoko’s cut his pants into extremely short shorts, and his shirt’s been turned into a crop-top, some of the makeup from his pants smeared on his newly exposed skin.

You whistle appreciatively, applauding a proud Kiyoko. “Appropriately slutty. Ten out of ten.”

“Careful,” Tsukki mumbles while your friends collect their things to leave. “I’m feeling a little left out over here.”

You turn, taking his face in one of your hands and smiling mischievously. “You’re not allowed to join the Slut Party – I don’t want to have to rip anyone’s hair out tonight.”

He just smirks down at you, following the three of you out. 

The frat house where the party’s happening is only a few blocks from your apartment, so you decide to walk. The guys at the door claim to let you all in for free because of Tsukki, but you can feel their eyes on your ass as you pass by. When Tsukki looks decently annoyed by it, you just shrug up at him.

“No one told you to buy this for me-”

“ Tsukki! ” 

You turn to the sound, finding Kyoutani and Koganegawa leaving the pop-up bar in the corner of the main room. Kyoutani’s dressed as a doctor, and Koganegawa – predictably – is wearing his Frogs uniform. You shoot Tsukki a meaningful look, grinning when he mutters ‘ Yeah, alright. It’s cliche’ in your ear.

The four of you meet Tsukki’s teammates at the edge of the dance floor, Tsukki disappearing to get you both drinks. Kyoutani looks you over with appreciation.

“Damn, Y/n!” He yells over the music. “You really know what you’re doing with all that!” He gestures vaguely to your body, shrugging when Yamaguchi blatantly glares at him. “It’s a compliment!” 

You laugh, always a bit fond of Kyoutani’s blunt personality. “It’s good to see you, too, Ken,” You say, pointing at Kiyoko. “And you two match!”

It seems this is the first time he’s seeing the girl standing at your shoulder. You watch his eyes go wide as they trail down her body. 

“Oh-” He says, coughing slightly. “Hi. Wow.”

Kiyoko gives him a side-glance, always one for a little Cat-and-Mouse. “Hi.”

He recovers quickly, sidling up to her. “I’m Kentarou,” He says, smiling handsomely. But Kiyoko just lifts an unimpressed eyebrow.

“I know. We’ve met, like, eight times.”

He blinks, looking her over. And then his jaw drops. “Holy shit – Kiyoko?! ” He sputters, flushing when Yamaguchi laughs at him. “It’s just- You’re always- Holy shit.”

Kiyoko rolls her eyes and turns her back to him with a flick of her ponytail. But you can see the blush starting to dust over her cheeks, and her disinterested half-smile is starting to look a little too satisfied. You meet her eyes knowingly, and she nudges you.

“ Shut up ,” She mumbles. “ You’re the one that wants to sleep with your best friend .”

You bark out a laugh of disbelief, nudging her back. Yamaguchi throws his arms around both of you. 

“Can one of you please dance with me?” He yells over the music, already bouncing in place. “I want to be trashed and making out with a stranger by the end of the night!”

Kiyoko takes his hand and leads him to the middle of the dance floor, leaving you with a dumbstruck Kyoutani, and Koganegawa, who’s suspiciously quiet. 

Probably because he’s staring right at your chest, his lips parted in awe.

“Kanji,” You say, a little reprimanding. 

He swallows, meeting your eyes. “Hi. Sorry. Uh-” His eyes drop to the tops of your breasts again, watching how they swell over the top of your corset. “You-Hi.” He lifts his eyes to yours, realizing he’d been caught again. “Sorry-” And then he looks over your shoulder, his eyes going wide. “Uh-”

An arm slips around your waist, pulling you back against a chest. You look down, seeing the gloved hand that holds a red Solo cup full of liquid.

“Oh-” You look up at Tsukki, finding him staring at Koganegawa with thinly veiled irritation. “You got us drinks!”

He doesn’t respond, only handing you the drink in his other hand. His eyes narrow on his teammate’s, and Koganegawa blinks rapidly. 

“I-Oh-Are you two…” He lowers his voice. “I thought you weren’t-”

You put two fingers on his mouth, shutting him up. “Kanji!” You say, frowning at him.

He blushes, looking around to see who’s around. “Sorry… I’ll just-” He gestures vaguely behind him and wanders off. Kyoutani stares down at the arm Tsukki has around you and then flicks his gaze up over your head. His lips stretch in a knowing smirk.

“Interesting…” He says, looking between the two of you. And then he shoots you a downward smile, shrugging as he turns away. “Very interesting.”

You turn, Tsukki’s arm still tight around your waist. “You scared your friend off!”

He shrugs. “He was looking a little too hard.”

You pull him out to where your friends are, trying not to let him see you blush. But the butterflies in your stomach are already fluttering nervously, because you have no way to know how this night’s going to go.

–

“You should probably know,” You hiccup, giggling into Tsukki’s shoulder. “That it definitely looks like you’re keeping me in this corner whispering horny shit in my ear.”

Tsukki laughs, low and against your skin, his hand only pulling you closer to him.

You stand in a dark hallway on the edge of the main room, your hands curled into the front of his tux and his hands anchored on your waist. You can see the dance floor, but the lights are off and you’re more than a little bit drunk, so the room is a haze of bodies and loud, thumping bass. You can see some people glancing with interest at the two of you, but it’s easy to ignore. 

Your attention is more drawn to Yamaguchi whispering suggestively in the ear of Lev Haiba , of all people. You spy on your friend, ignoring the gentle brush of Tsukki’s lips against your throat.

“Well, I could start saying horny shit, if you’d like,” He mumbles, but you just pat him on the shoulder and point over to Yamaguchi.

“Is Tadashi about to bag a model? Look, look-” 

Tsukki glances over his shoulder, quickly returning to the task of nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “Is it possible to check in about that in the morning, maybe? I’m a little distrac-”

You gasp loudly, smacking Tsukki’s shoulder hard. “ Look , Tsukki!” 

He turns with a sigh, following your finger to where Kiyoko is being pressed up against the far wall by Kyoutani, his tongue halfway down her throat.

“Oh-” Tsukki mumbles, blinking to clear his drunken vision. “Damn, that’s kind of crazy.”

You giggle to yourself. “Oh, that bitch is gonna be hearing from me tomo- mm- ” 

Tsukki squeezes your cheeks between his fingers. “Hey. You’re not paying enough attention to me.”

You look up at him, eyes wide, and start to laugh. It’s difficult with the way he’s holding you. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you getting jealous?” You smile as wide as you can when he glares down at you. “What would make you feel better?”

He releases your face, wrapping his arms back around your waist and drawing you close to him again. “Ask me what I think of your outfit. I never answered you.”

You breathe in the alcohol on his tongue, your head swimming. “I think I know what you think of it.” You gesture down to where he’s playing with the edge of the skirt, his knuckles skimming against your thigh.

His lips brush against yours when he mumbles, “ Ask me .” 

You card your fingers through his hair, tilting your head up to kiss him. “ Okay ,” You whisper. “ What do you think of the dress, Tsukki? ” 

He dips his head, pushing his lips against yours and nipping softly at your bottom lip. “I think…” He glances down the hall, and you spot an open door a few feet away, hidden in the dark. “I think I wanna take you in there and show you.”

Your skin hums with that electricity he’s so damn good at spilling into your veins. 

“ So do it .”

His eyes sharpen at your words, and you’re hoisted up in an instant. You laugh loudly, wrapping your legs around his waist and burying your face in his neck while he carries you down the hall. The door shuts behind him when he brings you into the room, and the loud, pounding music is muffled significantly.

“Finally, some peace and quiet,” Tsukki sighs. You glance up, finding a bed against the wall and a small couch in the corner. He walks you over to the couch, and you’re not sure if you’re more glad or disappointed that he isn’t taking this too fast.

He takes a seat, forcing you to straddle his thighs as you look down at him. His grin is smug. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Thought I was gonna take you to bed?”

You smack him hard on the chest. “You look stupid when you’re arrogant.”

“Yeah, well, you’re here, aren’t you?” He cups the back of your neck, dragging you in. You kiss him eagerly, the alcohol giving you the courage to drop all your pretenses. He seems to be in a similar situation, because his hands are latching onto your hips and pulling you down onto his lap. You sigh at the feeling of his thighs under yours, the difference between his sculpted ones and your soft ones almost heavenly.

“‘m not too heavy, right?” You mumble, unable to help yourself. He just shakes his head, his fingers tangling in your hair.

“Not heavy enough, in my opinion,” He breathes. His mouth drops to your throat as he mutters distractedly. “Sit down properly, princess.”

You let your thighs slide open, Tsukki’s mouth curling in a grin against your skin when he feels you get comfortable in your new seat.

“See?” He sucks hard on the junction of your neck. “Maybe if you’d just listen to me sometimes, we could be doing this more often.”

“Shut up, Tsukishima,” You murmur, distracted by the drag of his tongue over that burning spot on your throat.

“Fuck-” Tsukki nibbles another bruise into your skin. “Love when you do that.” His free hand digs into your hip, fingers fanning out.

“Love when I do what?” You sigh, letting your head falling to the side a little to give him more access. When his hand slides down over your ass, his hips rocking up gently as he kneads at your skin, you breathe out a quiet moan.

He shifts his hips again. “When you say my name like that. Like you’re scolding me.” He uses the hand he has on your ass to roll your hips in, his own meeting you halfway. A groan falls past his lips when you moan, your name murmured into the column of your throat.

“You like when I scold you?” You laugh weakly, your whole body humming and the electricity flowing straight to the place where your core bumps against the growing bulge in his slacks. “Didn’t know you were into that kind of thing, Tsukki.”

He laughs, and it sends a jolt of desire to the spot below your navel. You roll your hips on your own, heart stopping when he whispers ‘ fuck’ against your ear. 

“Just think it’s cute,” He says, breathless. “Always sounds like you think you’re in charge.”

So that’s what that’s about.

“I usually am,” You argue, carding your fingers through his hair and messing it up. You smile when your nails scratch against his scalp, because he shivers and tightens his grip on your hips. “I usually am in charge,” You say again when he meets your eyes, his own half-lidded.

He just grins, his other hand coming down to your waist. “Yeah?” 

You feel his fingers dig into your skin, and then he’s dragging your hips against his, once and then twice. You drop your hands to his shoulders, gasping when he rocks his own hips up. He’s hard now, the slide of his hips against your core pure torture.

“How ‘bout now, sweetheart?” He teases, even though his breath catches in his throat when he rocks up against you a third time. “Still think you’re in charge?”

You press your forehead against his, your muscles weak. “This isn’t fair. This doesn’t count-”

“God, look at your pretty little doe eyes,” He says, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “Makes me wanna give you anything you ask for.”

Trembling, you struggle to keep eye contact. “Like it when you look at me,” You whisper, watching his eyes light up. “Makes it hard to focus.”

“Yeah?” His smile is smug, satisfied. “‘s unfortunate, baby – I really like looking at you.”

Your breath is sharp in your chest, your head drowning in vodka and the feeling of Tsukishima Kei. 

“ Tsukki ,” You whine, begging – for what, you have no clue. But he groans, hearing exactly what you’re asking for.

“Don’t say my name like that, Y/n,” He warns. “Or I’ll take you to that bed and make you say it again.”

You whimper, your arms shaking when he slides against you in a way that sets your core on fire. “ Fuck- ” You whine when he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you in. His mouth is searing hot on yours, his tongue pushing past your lips. You moan into his mouth, your heart beating in places you’ve never felt with him before.

Before you can tell him that you’re thinking of letting him take you to bed, the door slams open and a giggling couple stumbles into the room.

You gasp, jumping off of Tsukki and landing in the spot next to him on the couch.

The girl that had been pulled into the room is the first to realize there are other people here.

“Oh, fuck-” She pulls away from the guy, squinting. “Oh, holy shit. Tsukishima Kei?”

Tsukki sighs, unheard as the guy spins on his heel and exclaims loudly.

“Woah! Holy shit, it’s you!” 

“Unfortunately,” Tsukki mumbles, but the guy just narrows his eyes at you, taking you in properly. And then he laughs, chortling as he gestures to you.

“Wow, nice outfit.” It’s clearly not a compliment. “You look just like you do in the photos.”

“That’s usually the point,” You say weakly. You can feel Tsukki tense next to you.

The guy approaches you, squinting in the dark. His eyes scan your bare legs and the length of your skirt. Tsukki flattens his hand over where your thighs meet, because your shorts have ridden up significantly and there’s too much showing now. 

“Do you mind backing the fuck away from my girlfriend?” He says, his tone clearer than it’s been all night.

“Tsukki,” You reprimand quietly, trying to fix your dress. The girl tries pulling the guy away, but he’s got his eyes on your chest.

“Damn, you got quite the rack on you.” He laughs when your face morphs into a scowl. “Too bad it’s attached to the rest of you.”

He’s just far enough that when Tsukki stands, he’s able to scamper back toward the door.

“Say it again,” Tsukki says, his presence towering over everyone in the room. “Say it again, and see what I do to you.” 

“Tsukki!” You stand, reaching for him. “Cut it out. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, Tsukki ,” The guy mocks, laughing as he steps out into the hall. “Learn to take a joke. Other than your girlfriend, that is-” He cackles, dodging Tsukki’s advances and hurrying out to the crowded main room.

Tsukki follows, likely with every intent to cause harm, but you’re quick to latch onto his arm.

“ Stop it, ” You hiss, pulling him back to you. You barely manage to get him to look at you, and you just gesture around the room when he does. “Look where he brought you. Pay attention, you idiot.”

Tsukki flicks his eyes around, seeing that the guy is causing a ruckus and drawing attention to the two of you.

“What’s wrong, Tsukki ?” He asks, giggling drunkenly. “Gonna let your bitch decide what you do?”

Tsukki tenses, turning toward him, but you pull him back. 

“Look at me,” You say sharply. He meets your eyes, and you shake your head. “Don’t fucking do it.”

“Aw, come on, Tsukki,” The guy says, dancing around the edge of the dance floor and pulling more eyes to the scene. “Give us a show, since you and your girl love the attention so much!” He sneers at you. “Show us how you got those hickies, darling.”

“Please let me punch him,” Tsukki mumbles to you, but you just shake your head. “Just one little punch. It would be so quick, no one would be able to film it.”

“Let’s go home,” You say. When he makes no move to leave, only shifting his eyes to the guy that’s clearly trying to get him to pick a fight, you tug on his sleeve. “Please?”

“Look at the happy couple, everyone! Our star rookie and his whale of a girlfriend, dressed like a whore-”

Tsukki sighs heatedly, and you wonder for a moment if he’s going to go through with it, but he just snatches up your hand, dragging you in the opposite direction.

“Thank you,” You whisper, nearly jogging behind him as he takes full strides to the door. There’s a yank on the skirt of your dress, and you yelp, stumbling back. When you turn, the guy’s grinning down at you, his fingers tugging on the fabric.

“Since you wanna wear something so small, let’s show everyone what’s underneath-” 

He’s shoved to the side, his body slamming into the wall on your right and slumping to the floor.  You gasp, thinking for a moment that the blond head flying past your face is Tsukki, but you realize that it’s Kyoutani when you see the streaks of dyed hair on his temple.

“Since you wanna put your hands on women, you won’t mind me putting mine on you, right?” He says, grinning cruelly. He’s about to reach out for him again, but Kiyoko’s pushing past him, her nurse’s cap falling off her head when she kicks the guy on the floor with all her might.

“Touch her again and see if I don’t kick your fucking teeth in-” She hisses, drawing her foot back. You gape at her, much like Kyoutani is, but his expression’s a little more lovestruck. It’s Yamaguchi that breaks through the group next, his arms belting around Kiyoko’s middle.

“Alright, you fucking menace, let’s not go to jail tonight!” He giggles, dragging her thrashing body back a few feet. He looks at Kyoutani in the struggle. “You gotta go, too. Doesn’t look good,” He says brightly, and the blond nods dumbly, still watching Kiyoko with hearts in his eyes.

You start to move to them, hating that your friends have gotten caught up in this, but Tsukki slides his arm around your waist and lifts you clean off your feet, hauling you through the door and out to the street.

“Wh-Tsukki!” You protest. “We have to go get them!”

“No, we don’t. Kiyoko’s got it covered,” He says with finality, setting you down and pulling you through the sea of reporters. They start to follow, but he turns sharply, side-stepping to put you behind him.

“Look,” He says to them. “I know you want to follow us, but could you maybe not tonight? I kinda just want to walk my girlfriend home, okay?”

The group of paparazzi just stand there, unused to Tsukishima Kei handling his annoyances with such diplomacy. He lets out a sigh and spins on his heel, taking your hand and pulling you quickly down to the street.

You stumble after him, glancing back periodically. “You think they’re actually gonna leave us alone?”

“Probably for, like, three more minutes. Walk faster.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

The walk home is silent, and you can feel his anger in the way he hunches his shoulders close to his ears and sighs at every crosswalk.

“Tsukki,” You say after a few blocks, knowing he’s holding it in. “Talk to me-”

He whirls around, forcing you to skid to a stop. “Why didn’t you let me hit him, Y/n?”

Your jaw drops, and you let out a breath of disbelief. “Tsukki, he was baiting you-”

“I don’t care. ” He steps close to you. “Do you realize how much it killed me to listen to the shit he said to you? He never would have touched you if I’d had my way.”

“Yeah, he was clearly looking for that reaction,” You reason. “With the reputation you have, he was obviously trying to rile you up so that he could get a look at the real Tsukishima Kei-” You scoff, gesturing to him. “People want to see you lose it, Tsukki.”

“Well, I almost did!” He snaps, and you set your hands on his chest to calm him down. It doesn’t work very well. “He put his fucking hands on you-”

“Tsukki, I’m fine . Look at me.” You gesture down at yourself, even grabbing his hands and setting them on your waist. “See? Look. I’m okay. Nothing’s wrong.”

He stares down at you. This seems to get his attention more, having his hands on you. You smile up at him. 

“I’m okay. I promise.”

He just blinks, and you know he’s not ready to accept it. Sighing, you point down the street, only two blocks away from your apartment.

“Can we go home, please? I think those reporters are probably catching up to us.”

He holds your hand tight the whole way there.

–

“You can’t let people get to you like that, Tsukki,” You say, sighing. 

You’ve just finished taking off all your makeup and changing into clothes that actually cover your body. Tsukki’s on the couch in sweats and a t-shirt, his tux crumpled on the floor and his hair mussed up and falling into his eyes. The air between you had been silent the rest of the way home and while you were getting changed. You can tell he’s calmed down a little, but he still sighs when you speak.

“I feel like it would have been warranted,” He says, shooting you a joking smirk over the back of the couch. You stand in the doorway of the bathroom, a hand on your hip.

“The whole reason we’re doing this is so that I can fix you,” You say, moving into the kitchen to get you both water. “You gonna let me fix you or not?”

“The shit he said to you was not okay, Y/n.” He shakes his head, scrolling through Twitter. You take a seat next to him, seeing that he’s looking through footage from the party.

“I know. It wasn’t fun. But you still can’t pick fights like that,” You say, running your fingers through his hair and leaning into his side. “You have too much on the line right now.”

He doesn’t say anything, just scrolling through the tweets. There’s a video of him taking a few steps toward the guy that’s laughing, but the camera catches the way you pull on his arm and bring him back to you. Tsukki’s eyes meet yours, and you can see his shoulders slump with defeat, his eyes searching your face. What you say to him is inaudible in the video, but it’s clear that his body language shifts when he looks at you.

The next video is the one of him carrying you out of the frat house. The camera catches the way you gape at Kiyoko’s anger, the way your brow furrows with concern as you start to move to her. It also catches the moment that Tsukki reaches for you, his frown deep and his arms sliding tight around your middle. You’re lifted off your feet, and you look up at him with surprise, your eyes wide and vulnerable.

The video after is the one of him facing the reporters, essentially asking in his nicest voice that they fuck off for once. His eyes are hard, swimming with anger, and his jaw is clenched, but his words are polite and his body shields you purposely. 

It’s weird, seeing the moments that you’ve experienced from someone else’s point of view. But, for once, you’re glad people are seeing your life with him play out – even those who were so against you from the beginning.

[10:57 PM] tsukkiyn4life :   dude was WAY out of line. yn looks smoking hot and tsukkis fighting literal demons not to put bro in the hospital but HE LISTENS TO HIS GIRL!!! GREEN FLAG!!!

[10:59 PM] numberonekei : okay even ill admit yn was on it with this one. he woulda been fucked if he’d gotten into another fight

[11:05 PM] TsukkiYnShipper : the CHOKEHOLD she must have on that man to get him to back down…. tsukishima kei is down horrendously bad

[11:07 PM] keisolostan : bro the way he talked to those reporters? who are you and what have you done with tsukishima kei

You give Tsukki a meaningful look. “Got anything to say?”

He feigns innocence. “Hospital bills are expensive, anyway?”

“Tsukki-”

“Okay, fine-” He laughs, throwing his phone down. “You were right – there. You were right. You are singlehandedly fixing the Sendai Frogs’ problem child.”

You shrug, your smile satisfied. “All in a day’s work, really. Next thing you know, you’ll be smiling at babies and petting dogs and shit.”

“You’re so stupid,” He snorts, shaking his head. And then he sighs, exhausted. “That was an extreme exercise is self-control.”

“But you did so well,” You say, cupping his face and planting a messy kiss on his cheek. “‘m proud of you.”

“Sorry, princess – I’m not much a praise kink guy,” He jokes, but you can see the flush spread across his cheeks and ears. “I’m more into punishment.”

You give a nervous laugh. “Oh, so that’s what you meant when you said cute girls can’t handle you.”

“Oh?” He says, meeting your eyes with interest. “You remember that, huh? Been thinking about it?” His lips pull into a wide, satisfied smile when you purse your lips in embarrassment. But he doesn’t push it, only sighing quietly and looking away. “I suppose I should go.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. There’s a part of you that doesn’t want him to leave, and it’s not the part you’re expecting. Even after what the two of you had done tonight, and even after the things you’d said to each other on that couch in that room, that’s not what comes to mind when you think about him staying.

You just don’t want him to go. You want him to stay. You want to keep looking at him and touching his face and listening to his stupid laugh. And, although that’s terrifying to realize, it’s what you what.

And he’d told you to do what you want.

“You don’t… have to…” You whisper finally, just as he’s starting to sit up.

His eyes find yours, and there’s a painful silence that follows. He blinks, and you blink back.

“I don’t have to… what?” He asks, although it’s clear by the way his eyes search your face with surprise that he knows exactly what you’re saying.

“Go.” You let out a shaky breath. “You don’t have to go.”

Tsukishima Kei has never stayed the night before – not alone and certainly not in the way you’re implying.

He glances over the back of the couch in the general direction of your tiny bed before looking back to you, a blush dusting over his cheeks. He goes for the safest assumption, swallowing hard. “Uh… Your couch isn’t exactly the most comfortable… thing…”

“Yeah,” You say, laughing as you stare down at your lap. “My bed’s probably not that comfortable either… for… more than just me…” You don’t dare to meet his eyes again, just tugging at a stray piece of string sticking out of your pajama shorts. When he doesn’t respond, you start to sweat. “You don’t have to stay. You can just-”

He stands abruptly, and your head flies up to watch him. He crosses the distance to your bed and throws himself under the covers, his feet sticking out at the bottom.

“Turn the lights off on your way,” He mumbles, tossing his glasses and phone on the nightstand. And then he rolls over, facing the wall.

You stare for a moment, only managing a shocked laugh as you stand and kill the lights in the living room and kitchen. You make your way to him in the dark, your heartbeat thrumming in your throat and your legs a little shaky. When you slide under the blanket, Tsukki scoots further, pressing himself against the wall to give you room. You struggle to fit on the bed with your back turned to him, half of your body hanging off the edge, but you refuse to move, just praying that you’ll fall asleep soon.

Tsukki’s head shifts a little after a moment. “Are you comfortable?” He whispers in the dark.

“Mhm,” You say. “I’m good.”

He only snickers, turning in place. “Liar.” There’s an arm sliding around your waist, and then you’re dragged across the mattress until your back presses to his chest. Your eyes go wide, staring at nothing as you feel him mold his body against yours, his face burying into the back of your neck.

“Better?” He murmurs, breath fanning out over your skin. He sounds nervous.

“I think this is worse,” You joke weakly, but you do your best to relax back into him.

You feel his smile against your neck. “‘s not so bad…” And then he presses his forehead to your shoulder, and you feel heat radiating off of his face. “Not bad,” He repeats with a sigh.

“No,” You whisper. “Not bad.”

His hand finds yours in the dark, just before you drift off to sleep.

–

You wake the next morning to a mouth full of blond hair. 

Sputtering quietly, you brush it away from you, realizing in the process that the weight on your chest is Tsukki’s head. He’s splayed out on his stomach, one of his knees tucked between yours and an arm draped over your hips, his hand dangling over the edge of the bed.

You stare down at him, running your fingers through his hair very carefully. You scratch your nails against his scalp, smiling when he sighs and shifts closer. His face looks so peaceful like this, you realize – his brows aren’t furrowed and his shoulders aren’t tense.

You haven’t seen him like this in years.

Before you can read into it too much, your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You reach for it, careful not to jostle him.

[9:04 AM]

Kiyoko : i feel like i just got hit by a truck

Kiyoko : that dragged me 7 blocks before realizing i was there

You snort, typing a response with one hand.

You : are you home/alone

Kiyoko : doors unlocked

You do your best to slide out from under Tsukki, going so far as pressing your lips to the crest of his eyebrows when he starts to frown. He relaxes, rolling over and going back to sleep instantly. Quietly, you tiptoe to the kitchen and retrieve two cans of iced coffee from the fridge before slipping out the door.

Kiyoko’s in bed when you sneak into her apartment. She sits up when you take your shoes off, grinning guiltily as you stop short.

“You slutty little nurse,” You say, staring at her. Her hair’s tangled and her pajamas are only half-on, but the real clue that she’d had an overnight guest is the mass of hickies decorating her throat and chest.

She rolls her eyes, beckoning you to bed. You eye it suspiciously. 

“Are the sheets clean…?”

She laughs. “Yes, you ass. I changed them before I texted you.”

You shrug, hopping into bed with her and handing her a coffee. “So? What happened after I left?”

“Kentarou walked me to my door like a respectable gentleman,” She says, sipping loudly and looking away. You just stare, waiting her out. She finally meets your eyes again, giggling.

“And then ?” You ask impatiently.

“And then…” She shrugs one marked-up shoulder. “He fucked me like an animal.”

You squeal, smacking her arm over and over again while she laughs.

“Oh, my God, Kiyoko,” You wheeze, beaming at her. “I’ve never been more proud to be your friend. Wait-” You point at the door. “Did you just make that man do the walk of shame?”

“No, of course not!” She says, leaning her back against the headboard. “Obviously, I… thanked him for his services.” She endures another round of your smacking before saying, “He’s taking me out for dinner tomorrow. Said he’d pick me up from campus and everything.”

You nudge her, grinning wide. “Look at you! Dating a pro volleyball player.”

“Maybe you can give me some tips,” She jokes, finishing off her coffee.

“He’s not pro yet,” You say, rolling your eyes. “Hopefully, he’ll make it to the end of the year without starting shit.”

Her hand pauses halfway from her mouth, the empty can hanging in her hold while she examines you. You furrow a brow.

“What?”

“I was…” She squints now. “...kidding.” You blanche, staring at her while her eyes narrow further. “You know… because you’re not actually dating?”

“Right,” You say, smiling. “I know. I was just…”

“Y/n,” She says, lowering her finished drink and gaping at you. “Are you two actually dating ?”

“No!” You say, putting your coffee down on her nightstand so you can face her. “No, we’re not. It’s like I said – we’re just not really labeling anything.”

“Not labeling-” She shakes her head. “That’s a terrible idea. That’s such a slippery slope-”

“I know! We just… We know. We’re just taking it one day at a time.” You shrug. “That’s all I’ve got, honestly. Nothing else has happened.”

As if summoned by some demonic force, your phone buzzes on the bed between you.

[9:28 AM]

Tsukki : you know

Tsukki : usually it’s ME that sneaks out the morning after

Tsukki : im the sneaker

Tsukki : not the sneak-ee

Kiyoko snatches your phone up before you can, blinking hard to make sure she’s reading that right.

“You fucked him !” She yells, smacking your arm when you take your phone back.

“No! I didn’t! We just slept!” 

“Do you think I was born yesterday, young lady-”

“I swear!” You laugh, bracing for her second smack. “All we did was sleep, I swear!”

She stares, clearly disturbed. “You’ve never done that before. Sleepovers.”

You shake your head with a tight smile. “Nope. First time.”

“And all you did was sleep.”

“All we did was sleep.”

She scans you a moment longer before leaning in, as though you’re not the only people in the room. “Did you catch feelings?”

“No!” You reel back, pushing her away lightly.

“Y/n, that’s not good-”

“I didn’t !” You swallow hard, trying to push down the memory of wanting him to stay the night. Of waking up this morning with him in your arms. “I didn’t catch feelings. It was just late, and we were just tired.”

She looks like she certainly has more to say, but she thankfully drops it, only pointing at your phone. “Answer him, before he starts calling.”

His name pops up on your screen with an incoming call the second she says it.

You only hesitate a moment, meeting her eyes with an uneasy smile before pressing it to your ear. “Hello?”

You don’t fight when Kiyoko drags your arm away from your face and aggressively jabs at the button to activate the speakerphone.

“ You left, ” Tsukki says groggily, his voice echoing in Kiyoko’s apartment. “ That’s fucked up. ”

“I didn’t leave. I’m at Kiyoko’s.”

“ Oh. I guess that’s fine. Can you steal some coffee? ”

Kiyoko just rolls her eyes but keeps quiet.

“I’ll see what I can do,” You say. And then you clear your throat. “What’s the plan today?”

“ Dunno. Wanna get breakfast? ”

You push Kiyoko away when she stares at you meaningfully. “Don’t you have practice today?”

“ Mm, ” He groans, stretching and yawning loudly. “ ‘s later. I feel pretty good today. ”

“Oh-” You stare down at your phone, your brows furrowing. “Really? My bed’s not really built for two.”

“ I know, I’m surprised, too. But that’s the best I’ve slept in ages. ”

Your heart jumps, and you don’t have it in you to push Kiyoko away again when she stares right into your soul. 

“Oh. I-That’s good. You should get a shitty Twin XL bed, too, then.”

He laughs low, the sound deep and satisfied. You blush when Kiyoko curls her lip in disgust – she’s never heard that laugh before, then.

“ I could do that, yeah, ” He says, shifting in bed. “ Or I could just keep sleeping in yours.”

You’re really not getting out of this one. Kiyoko’s deadpan stare burns a hole through your face. Your cheeks warm to the point of discomfort, and you pick at a piece of lint on her blanket. 

“Yeah… I suppose you could.”

He’s quiet on the other end for a moment. “ Okay, ” He says, his voice a little uncertain. “ That’s that, then. ”

“That’s that.”

“ Bring coffee? ”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“ See ya. ”

The apartment is dead silent after he hangs up. You nervously search Kiyoko’s blanket for more lint, feeling her eyes on your face.

“Do you like him, Y/n?” She says after a moment.

You just stare at your hands. “Dunno.”

“Do you realize that it sounds like he likes you?”

“I don’t know about that.”

She sighs, pulling you into her arms and planting a kiss on your temple. “So beautiful, yet so stupid. And blind. Stupid, blind, beautiful-”

“Okay, you made your point.”

–

By the time you return to your apartment, Tsukki’s washed up and sitting expectantly in bed, his back against the headboard as he taps away on his phone. He scans you when you come in.

“No coffee?”

You snort, joining him in bed. He shifts, eyeing you nervously for a moment before leaving one hand flat on the mattress and angling his body toward you. It’s clearly an invitation. 

You just meet his eyes, your heartbeat suddenly strong in your chest.

And then you scoot toward him, curling up beside him and letting your knees fall over his thigh. His hand slides around your waist, pulling you comfortably against him.

“Are you sure you slept okay?” You ask, your voice cracking when you feel his thumb drawing circles in your skin. 

He nods, eyes dropping to your mouth. “Wasn’t too uncomfortable for you?”

“No,” You laugh. “It was, uhm…” You trail off, feeling when he leans in. His lips are warm against yours, and you feel abnormally at ease, wrapped up in his arms like this. You card your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp and shivering when his other hand slides along the outside of your thigh, kneading gently. 

“ You fucking liar ,” He whispers against your mouth. “ You taste like coffee. ”

You throw your head back, laughing. “I’m sorry! I grabbed some from the fridge before I went up.” And then you kiss him again before you lose your courage. “I’ll buy you coffee while we’re out.”

“My girl’s such a provider,” He says, grinning when you smack him on the shoulder. You try not to let the words ‘ my girl ’ affect you too much.

“Do you want coffee or not?”

He nods, pulling you in for one more kiss before murmuring ‘ Sounds good ’ against your mouth. 

You have to peel yourself out of his arms, the danger of staying in bed all day with him too high.

The two of you walk to breakfast, hand in hand, and then you see him off when it’s time for practice. He comes back after, dinner in hand, and you both work on assignments with trashy TV playing in the background.

He stays the night again. And again. And again.

He stays until Christmas.

[thegirlamongthestars]

kiss me - c.alcaraz

author: this fic is part of the olympic love series

summary: A midnight invitation to the pool make Carlos and Valeria surpass some limits

wc: 1,1k

“Come and meet me by the pool at 00:00”

That’s what his message said.

The village was unusually quiet at that hour of the night, the cool breeze rustling through the trees that lined the paths. After a long day of training and socializing, I wandered aimlessly, feeling this as a moment of peace. The faint sound of water, lapping against the edges of the pool, moved by the breeze caught my attention; drawing me toward the shimmering blue under the moonlight.

When I arrived, I was surprised to find the pool area completely deserted. No sign of Carlos anywhere nearby. The water looked inviting, almost too tempting to resist. So, I sat on the edge, dipping my feet in and letting out a contented sigh as the cool water soothed my tired legs. I closed my eyes for a moment, soaking in the solitude, when I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching.

"Couldn’t sleep?" His voice, deep and smooth, cut through the stillness of the night. Already teasing me with the fact that I obeyed to his demand of meeting here.

I opened my eyes and found Carlos standing a few feet away. He was dressed casually in swim trunks and a sleeveless T-shirt, his hair still damp from what I assumed was a recent shower. There was a relaxed confidence about him that made my body pulse with excitement.

"I’m here as you wished" I replied lightly, trying to keep my tone casual. "Care to join me?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. In one swift motion, Carlos peeled off his shirt, revealing the body that I hadn’t been able to keep off my mind. I tried to play it cool, but I couldn’t stop my eyes from wandering over his toned chest and abs.

Carlos caught my stare and grinned. "See something you like?"

"Just wondering if you’re as fast in the water as you are on the court" I shot back, lifting my chin in challenge.

"Is that a dare?" His tone was laced with that teasing edge I had come to expect from him.

"Maybe," I said before disappearing under the water for a few seconds. "I think this is a great chance to start that little game of yours”

Carlos’s eyes darkened with interest as he considered my proposal. "And what exactly are the boundaries we’re talking about in this first round?"

"That’s for the winner to decide," I replied, my voice taking on a more seductive note. The air between us seemed to thicken with tension, the kind that had been building for days, unspoken but ever-present.

Carlos stepped closer to the edge of the pool, his gaze locked on mine. "Alright, Valeria. You’re on. First to the other side and back wins."

My pulse quickened as I moved to the deeper end of the pool. I could feel his eyes on me as I advanced, the coolness enveloping me like a second skin. When I turned to face him, he was already by my side, his expression confident and focused.

"Ready?" I asked, my voice slightly breathless, whether from the anticipation or the cool water, I wasn’t sure.

"Always" Carlos responded.

Without another word, we both launched ourselves forward, slicing through the water with powerful strokes. The race was fast and intense, the sound of our splashing the only noise in the stillness of the night. We were neck and neck as we reached the opposite end, but as we turned to race back, I could feel Carlos pulling slightly ahead.

Determined not to let him win, I pushed myself harder, my muscles burning with the effort. But despite my best efforts, Carlos touched the edge of the pool a split second before I did.

He surfaced with a victorious grin, slicking his hair back with one hand as he leaned against the pool’s edge. "Looks like I win" he said, his voice full of satisfaction.

I pouted playfully, though my heart was racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the swim. "Fine. What’s your demand, then?"

Carlos’s smile turned predatory, a slow, deliberate curve of his lips that sent a shiver down my spine. "Come closer," he murmured.

I swam toward him, feeling the tension between us heighten with every inch that closed between us. As I reached the edge, my body brushed lightly against his, the contact electric. Carlos didn’t move back, didn’t give me any space, just waited until I was almost flush against him. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said. "Kiss me."

It wasn’t a question or a suggestion—it was a demand, and the boldness of it took my breath away. I had expected something cheeky, perhaps a little daring, but this… this was a line we hadn’t crossed before.

For a fraction of a second, I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest. But the heat in his gaze, the raw anticipation that hung in the air between us, was too much to resist. I leaned in, my hands finding purchase on his shoulders as I closed the distance between us.

Our lips met in a soft, tentative kiss, but the moment they connected, it was as if a dam broke. The kiss deepened, turned urgent, our bodies pressing impossibly closer. I could feel the cool water lapping around us, contrasting with the warmth of his skin, the heat of his mouth.

Carlos’s hands moved to my waist, pulling me even closer as the kiss became more intense. It was a kiss that spoke of all the teasing, the flirting, the unspoken attraction that had been building between us. A kiss that was both an exploration and a promise of more to come.

When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathless, our foreheads resting against each other’s as we tried to steady our racing hearts.

"Looks like I got more than I bargained for" I whispered, my voice shaky with a mix of excitement and nerves.

Carlos chuckled softly, his hands still resting on my waist. "This is just the beginning, Val. We’ve got plenty more rounds to go."

I smiled, unable to hide the thrill that coursed through me at the thought. "Then I guess I’ll just have to make sure I win the next one."

"Better start thinking of your demands now" he teased, brushing a stray lock of wet hair from my face.

"Oh, don’t worry," I replied, my voice low and seductive. "I’ve got a few ideas in mind."

Carlos’s eyes darkened with desire at my words, and for a moment, we just stared at each other, the promise of what was to come hanging heavily in the air.

Then, with a playful grin, he leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered, "I can’t wait to see how far you’re willing to push those boundaries."

My stomach flipped at the challenge in his voice, knowing that whatever came next, it was going to be anything but ordinary.

[happilyhertale]

Heir to the throne - Daemon Targaryen x niece!reader

Summary: You and your uncle Daemon have a somewhat sullen relationship. Daemon thinks you are weak. And you think he is insufferable and manipulative. But how long can you resist your growing affection for him?

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Minors do not continue reading!

Author’s note: Hey you (:

A one-shot Daemon story requested by @dreamlandcreations 🖤 I hope you like it! English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 5.5 k

Other stories of mine

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As the day of your birth dawned, the enchanting chimes of Kings Landing echoed through the city, filling the air with a symphony of celebration. All the people of the realm witnessed your arrival on this earth. As the beloved first-born daughter of King Viserys and his beloved Queen Aemma, it was well known that your father longed for a son. But your father's deep love for you surpassed all pre-determined expectations.

When your mother's womb was filled with new life again, you were still a child yourself, and the anticipation of the arrival of a male heir to stride through the royal halls grew. But fate had other plans, and your sister Rhaenyra graced the world with her presence. From the moment she entered this realm, an unbreakable bond formed between the two of you. Despite Rhaenyra's temperamental nature, you found harmony in each other's company.

During your childhood together, mischievous pranks became part of your playful repertoire, often driving others to despair. While you found solace in the art of needlework and the treasures of old books in the library, Rhaenyra could always be found in the exercise yard, rolling in the earth and eagerly keeping pace with the boys of the court. But you, too, actually took part in such pursuits and proved that your wild spirit burns just as brightly. Countless times you stood by Rhaenyra's side, defending her against the taunts of those who mocked her only because she was a girl. Together, fearlessly and with combined strength, you unceremoniously threw those who dared to challenge you into the dirt.

Yet the longing for a male heir consumed your father Viserys' heart and overshadowed the vibrant love between your parents. Your mother, despite her best efforts, was tired and exhausted after mourning a dead child in the cradle, suffering two stillbirths and two heartbreaking miscarriages. But a glimmer of hope emerged when she became pregnant again, sparking the anticipation of a long-awaited male successor. Even you and Rhaenyra held on to that hope, for you were reluctant to take on the burden of ruling a kingdom. The duties and benefits of being a princess gave you both far more pleasure. But this pregnancy weighed heavily on your mother, sapping her vitality with each passing day. The signs were obvious to you, for she rarely ventured out of her bath anymore.

You and Rhaenyra started spending a few moments together in bed in the evenings at that time. You had numerous conversations ranging from trivia to the prevailing topic of your mother and her exhausting pregnancy. It was during these intimate exchanges that your fear of childbirth was really ignited.

This fear was only fuelled when your mother died in childbirth. Your mother's untimely passing at the birth of the long-awaited male heir shook you and Rhaenyra to the core. But in the midst of the pain, there was a surprising turn of events when your father called you to him. The seriousness that showed on his face set the tone as you and Rhaenyra stood before King Viserys, waiting for his words.

In a calm and serious tone, he unravelled the story of the Song of Ice and Fire and tied together the threads of the prophetic vision of Aegon the Conqueror. As his hopeful gaze fell upon you, a feeling of trepidation crept over you, for you did not know what he was up to. Your father was trying to divert the succession by preferring you to your uncle Daemon and longing for you to ascend the throne. There was silence in the air, broken only by Rhaenyra's radiant smile. But you shook your head resolutely and refused the iron throne that awaited you. And so the path took its course, granting Rhaenyra her rightful place as heir to the throne.

But what you and Rhaenyra also shared was the joyful anticipation that shot through your veins every time your uncle Daemon visited King's Landing. The moment Caraxes appeared in the sky, your heart beat faster and you quickly made your way to the dragon pit. Hastily you traversed the corridors, longing to catch even a glimpse of your beloved uncle. Gasping for breath, you reached the entrance of the dragon pit and waited patiently for his arrival. It wasn't long before Rhaenyra was at your side, waiting as well. And whenever Daemon finally appeared, a radiant smile lit up both your faces.

Without hesitation, you both sprinted towards him, and with effortless strength, he lifted you both up in his arms and carried you towards the keep. Enchanted, you listened to his every word and listened to tales of epic battles and distant lands he had travelled. But over time, things changed. You grew more mature, older and wiser.

Although you still hold your uncle in high esteem, a bittersweet ambivalence stirs within you. You still enjoyed listening to his stories, even if you feigned a certain disinterest. But his shadowy deeds, which always resonated in the depths of your consciousness, repelled you. The same was true of your uncle. He held you in high esteem, considered you his niece and vowed to protect you from the horrors of this world should he have the power to do so. However, he considered you weak, much like your father, King Viserys. It was Rhaenyra, spirited and rebellious, who attracted his affections more. But such things were of no consequence to you. Gaining his attention was not attractive, at least you kept whispering this to yourself.

One day, the whispers of the servants echoed ceaselessly through the air, like a delicate melody. The news was full of excitement - a vibrant festival was to fill the humble streets of Flea Bottom. Enchanting attractions and captivating performers would parade through the avenues, enthralling all who gathered with their enchanting talents. Naturally, your curiosity was piqued, for it had been far too long since you had joined Rhaenyra on a journey through the secret passages of the keep.

As evening fell and dinner drew to a close, you retired to your chambers. Secretly you dressed in the humble attire of the servants and carefully donned a cloak with a hood that concealed your shining silver locks. With great determination, you approached what appeared to be an ordinary wall in your chambers and exerted a gentle but purposeful push. The wall that obeyed your touch gives way, revealing a hidden passageway that lies beyond. A tingle of anticipation flows through you as you enter the hidden passageways and the familiar excitement within you flares up again.

As you arrive in front of the massive keep, you stare upwards, fascinated by the towering walls that seem almost frightening. Relief washes over you, for you knew that tonight you would escape the confines of this fortress and enjoy the freedom that awaited you. Your path leads you unwaveringly to Flea Bottom, a thriving tapestry of life and pleasure. The narrow streets were teeming with happy people, the air was filled with animated conversation and joyous laughter.

At every corner, artists adorned the bustling scene, showing off their talents and attracting the attention of passers-by. The fascination of it all takes hold of you as your gaze wanders upwards to witness a daredevil performer gracefully crossing a taut rope between two old walls. A melodious laugh escapes your lips, evidence of the sheer wonder and enchantment that has captivated you.

The lure of this uncomplicated existence is undeniably great. What is even more enticing is the anonymity it gives you. Here your hair remains unseen, the darkness hides you from prying eyes. Your purple eyes go unnoticed like a hidden gem. You are no princess, but just an ordinary soul among them.

A woman gracefully hands you a glass of wine and a smile graces your lips in response. As you sip the wine, she leads you into the crowd of dancing people. In the square, musicians serenade and enchant those who sway to their melodies. You find yourself in the midst of the cheering crowd, laughing and twirling in blissful abandon. You spill a little wine but pay no attention to the fleeting mishap. Your hood slips briefly, but you deftly straighten it again, preserving your disguise.

But as you turn around briskly, a sudden shock of surprise passes through you. Standing before you is your uncle, Daemon, wrapped in his own cloak.

"Uncle!" you say, startled. Your eyes are wide and you stop abruptly. You are breathing heavily from all your dancing.

But he only grins at you.

"Well, well... What is our little princess doing here?" he asks you.

You clear your throat slightly, "Well... I just wanted to enjoy the festivities," you say softly.

He smiles at you, "I could see that," he grins at you.

"So you're interested in the festivities? And you even sneak out of the keep to do it?" he asks you.

You look at him, "Does that surprise you?" you ask him in return.

He shrugs slightly, "Let's put it this way, I didn't expect it"

He looks at you with a look you can't quite place. Your cheeks flush slightly and you look to the side.

"Well... I have to go, take care princess," he says with a slight grin and continues walking.

You are left a little irritated.

The next day you learn that Rhaenyra was in a brothel with Daemon and you are shocked. You met Daemon on the streets of Flea Bottom, he must have gone straight to a brothel afterwards... When you hear this, you immediately go in search of Rhaenyra.

When you find her, she is standing talking to Ser Criston.

"Rhaenyra," you say, and she responds with a smile.

"Can we talk for a moment?" you ask her.

Ser Criston steps away from you.

When you are alone, you look at her.

"You were in a brothel with Uncle Daemon?" you ask her.

Her eyes grow wide.

"How do you know about that?" she asks you, horrified.

"Well... secrets don't stay secrets here for long... Especially when two silver-haired people visit a brothel," you say.

She swallows visibly.

"So it's true?" you ask her.

She grabs your arm, "He didn't take my maidenhead, I swear," she says to you.

"But how can you be so careless as to go to a brothel with him?" you ask her.

"Do you know what will happen if this gets out?" you ask her further, "Your reputation will be ruined!"

She bites her lip nervously.

"It won't come out... and if it does...I didn't lose my maidenhead to him," she says softly.

But after your father finds out about it, he is furious. He has Daemon brought to him.

"Give me Rhaenyra to take to wife and we will return the House of the Dragon to its proper glory"

There is a brief silence in the throne room as Daemon speaks the words and lies hungover on the floor.

Viserys kneels over him, "Of course... It's not my daughter you lust for, is it?"

He presses the blade a little more against Daemon's neck, "It's my throne"

Daemon grins just slightly.

"You can take her as your wife... But she will no longer be heir to the throne. I will make y/n heir to the throne. Rhaenyra is no longer pure, too wild to rule a kingdom... Hoping that you cannot corrupt y/n, " Viserys finally says.

Daemon gets angry, "You can't do that!"

Viserys stands up, "You'll see what I can do"

And in a moment that seemed to stand the test of time, your father, in a grand production, announced to the realm that you were the rightful heir to the throne. He justifies this monumental decision by acknowledging that he should have recognised your esteemed position as elder sister from the beginning. Deep down, however, both you and Rhaenyra understand the motivations behind this decision, but the revelation leaves you stunned and unprepared. The thought of assuming the role of queen does not suit your heart's desires, but your father, determined and weary of all stormy arguments, rejects all arguments.

The kingdom is in an uproar, and King Viserys hosts an extravagant ball to celebrate this turning point. With unwavering courage, you step into the limelight, knowing that all eyes will be on you all night and your every move will be closely watched. Countless lords vie for your attention, eager to capture your gaze. You, now the embodiment of attraction, become the most desired woman in the realm, igniting ardent desire from all corners. In the midst of this whirlwind, you find a moment of calm, enjoying a sip of wine in solitude, only to be startled by the sudden appearance of your uncle at your side.

"Niece," he says in greeting.

You look over at him slightly and then drink some more of your wine.

"Uncle," you say back.

After a while his voice resounds, "So you are now heir to the throne"

You nod slightly, "I guess that's right," you say.

He smiles slightly, "You don't seem very pleased about it"

You snort slightly, "Well... if you hadn't taken your other niece to a brothel and started rumours about her virtue... Then I wouldn't have to be here," you say.

"So you're not pleased?" he asks you.

You just look at him.

"Why... Why are you taking her to a brothel in the first place? It's irresponsible and immoral," you say.

"'Excuse me... My highly moral niece... but if we are honest, was I ever moral?" he asks you.

You snort again and he looks at you.

"You were out in Flea Bottom yourself...," he finally replies, but you interrupt him.

"... but I didn't go to a brothel!" you say.

He watches you for a moment.

"I had to take Rhaenyra there... I had to show her... To show her what it means to make political decisions… to fulfil duties and also to accept and live out personal preferences," he tells you.

You shake your head slightly, "You can't think of anything better than taking your niece to your brothel?"

You drink from your wine and look out into the crowd again.

He looks at you, a slight smile curling his lips.

"You wish I had gone to the brothel with you?" he asks suddenly.

You choke on your wine.

"Excuse me?" you ask him.

He grins now, "You wish I had chosen you. When I met you on the streets of Flea Bottom... You wish I had taken you by the hand and..."

But you interrupt him.

"What? No! Of course not!" you say to him, but your cheeks blush slightly.

He just grins even more, "Well... If I had known that your father would now install you as heir to the throne... Then I wouldn't have deprived you of this lesson," he says with the same grin on his face.

"Stop it!" you hiss.

"I have no interest in going to a filthy brothel with you," you say to him and you feel the anger rising inside you.

"Well... we don't have to go to a brothel either... I can teach you this lesson in a soft bed," his eyes sparkle as he says this to you.

You just look at him.

"Do you always have to be like this? So manipulative? Maybe you should stop trying to corrupt your brother's daughters... At some point there won't be any children left to succeed to the throne... Or is that what you want? So that you can be named heir to the throne again?" you say to him.

Daemon's gaze darkens, but you simply step away from him.

You leave the ball. You quickly try to put a great distance between you and Daemon. You don't know what it is, but the thought of being in a brothel with Daemon stirs something in you. But you quickly move on towards your chambers.

As the morning light wakes you and you step out of your chambers after your morning routine, a bittersweet realisation comes to you - Daemon has once again left King's Landing.

But in the midst of this recurring absence, a new responsibility now weighs on your shoulders and demands your attention. Your father, concerned for your future, keeps dropping hints about potential suitors who might be worthy of you. Some of these suggestions make you recoil in horror, as they are unfamiliar names of lords you have never heard of. Others, with some logic, sound like good partners. But one name keeps coming up - Laenor Velaryon. Laenor, a kind-hearted soul, would guarantee you a respectful marriage. But deep inside you long for a marriage that promises more than a husband who prefers to spend his free time in the company of other men.

While King Viserys wants to leave the final decision to you, he nevertheless tries in his own discreet way to win your heart for this union. Inwardly, you cannot help but envy Rhaenyra, who now enjoys the freedom of choice, unaffected by the burden of political affairs. Yet you are taken aback when she too suddenly expresses her desire for an engagement. Ser Harwin's proposal to marry her is announced by your father, and the glow on Rhaenyra's lips betrays her joy. After much deliberation, your father has given his consent to this betrothal, sealing the path Rhaenyra will take.

Preparations for Rhaenyra's wedding are in full swing, putting an enchanting aura in the air. Although Rhaenyra is no longer heir to the throne, no expense or effort is spared to ensure a magnificent wedding. While you are busy with your own new tasks, you are all the more surprised when your sister's wedding is suddenly only a few days away.

The capital city is welcoming an influx of distinguished guests, with unfamiliar faces packing the halls. Amidst this swirl, fate once again crosses your path with Laenor. Warm greetings are exchanged, and in the absence of your father's watchful presence, you are indeed able to engage in pleasant conversation. Unfortunately, your father never fails to highlight Laenor's presence whenever he can.

On the auspicious day of the wedding, there is a grand ball where wine flows copiously, instilling in you a sense of calm. This makes it a little easier to bear your father's insistent insistence that you dance with Laenor. Your gaze, however, inevitably wanders to Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin, who always wear beaming smiles on their lips. Genuine joy fills your heart for them.

Suddenly a murmur goes through the crowd, growing louder with each passing moment. As you look up from your seat at the head table, you catch sight of the entrance of your uncle, who has been absent throughout the ceremony. Surprised, but not completely taken aback, it seems only logical that he naturally needs to make a special appearance. He exudes an undeniable charm as he strides into the hall, his lips curved into a subtle smile. Your eyes meet briefly, and you detect a hint of mirth in his eyes. Hastily, you avert your gaze and seek refuge in the depths of your wine glass.

Daemon makes his way to Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin and offers them his congratulations before gracefully walking around the table. Finally, he settles across from you. As you avoid his gaze, your attention is abruptly taken by your father, who suddenly stands before you. A smile graces your face as you lift your gaze to meet him, only to lose it again when you see Laenor standing beside your father.

"Y/n. I thought you were going to show Laenor your new dancing skills?" your father asks you.

You smile, "Where do you keep getting these ideas from?," you mumble.

But gracefully you rise from your seat and put on a gentle smile, as if the weight of the world is light on your shoulders. Together with Laenor, you glide to the dance floor, a harmonious couple amidst the lively atmosphere. Laenor, a skilful dance partner, engages you in pleasant conversation. But his presence does not arouse any feelings beyond the warmth of a cousin.

After a few dances, a growing restlessness overcomes you and you long for solitude and a break from the boisterous mood. Seeking solace, you retreat to the edge of the dance floor, the rim of your wine cup finding comfort at your lips. A single, daring sip empties the vessel and quiets your inner turmoil for a moment. In the distance, your father approaches Laenor once more and engages him in conversation. The scene almost amuses you as you notice that Laenor is beginning to seem annoyed too.

You quickly take another cup of wine and leave the festivities before your father can address you again. Cup in hand, you stroll through the corridors and make your way to your chambers. Weary from the day's events, your only desire is to wrap yourself in solitude. As you enter your private chambers, you free yourself from the confines of your dress and let out a relieved sigh as the lacing at your back loosens.

The garment falls to the floor and surrenders to gravity. Wearing a flowing nightgown, you approach the mirror and carefully untangle the intricately braided pigtails that adorned your head. As you lift the brush and prepare to run it through your silken tresses, an unwelcome interruption sounds in the form of a sharp knock on the door. Irritation flickers across your face as you turn to face the unwelcome disturbance.

"Who is it?" you ask. But no one answers. You sigh and go to the door. You open it.

"What is it?" but you pause as you see your uncle.

"Uncle?" you ask.

He smiles slightly at you, "Niece," he says.

You look at each other for a while.

"Won't you invite me in?" he finally asks you.

"I'm not sure I want to," you reply.

He raises his eyebrows a little, but you take a step to the side.

His hands are behind his back and he smiles at you. Slowly he enters your chambers. You close the door and watch him. You see his broad back and notice that he seems to be looking around.

"Not much has changed in your chambers..." he says somewhat absently as he stands at your desk.

You look at him and smile a little, "Did you come here to inspect my chambers?" you ask him.

He turns to you and has to smile a little again, "No... of course not...", he says almost quietly.

He lets his fingers glide lightly over a book lying on your desk.

"You seemed annoyed," he says finally.

Now you are the one raising your eyebrows, "What?" you ask him.

"Well... At the ball... You seemed upset. Upset that Viserys kept trying to badger you with Laenor's presence," he says, smiling at you.

You roll your eyes a little as you think about it again. "Is it that noticeable?" you ask him.

You walk over to the table and drink from your wine again.

"I don't want to marry Laenor," you say finally.

"I like Laenor, he's nice. But I don't want a man who prefers the company of men," you say, turning to face Daemon.

Daemon grins slightly.

"That's understandable... You want a man who desires you," he says to you.

You have to chuckle a little, but shake your head slightly, "I don't think that's an argument that will meet with my father's understanding," you say.

"Well...", Daemon says, "You will be queen, you should decide who you marry... who will rule with you", he says to you.

You drink again of your wine and look at him. You see a sparkle in his purple eyes.

"I could take you to a brothel, if that would help you decide," he says suddenly.

This hits you unexpectedly and you suddenly have to laugh. Your laughter infects Daemon and you hear him chuckle slightly.

"Thank you very much for your offer, uncle. But I think I will decline," you say with a smile.

You look at each other and notice how close you are. You can literally feel his breath on your skin. Suddenly his lips are on yours. You gasp briefly, but then his hand is on your cheek and he holds you tight. The kiss is wild and passionate. You put your hands on his firm chest and pull him closer to you by his waistcoat. You whimper slightly as he gently bites your lower lip. Daemon breaks the kiss briefly. He is breathing heavily. His thumb wanders gently over your lower lip. His eyes seem to be watching your face closely, as if finding even the slightest sign that you don't want this.

"Do you really want me to corrupt another daughter of the king?" he asks you in his deep voice.

You are also breathing heavily and look at him.

"Shut up, uncle," you say simply.

He chuckles lightly and lets his hand slide down your neck. He pulls you close again and kisses you.

He pushes you backwards slightly and you notice the back of your thighs pressing against the desk. His hands are suddenly on your hips and with one quick movement you are sitting on the desk. Daemon is standing between your legs and he starts kissing your neck. Slowly he lets his lips and tongue glide over your soft skin. His fingers slowly slide along your thigh and you gasp.

"Is that okay?" Daemon whispers as he continues to caress your neck. You just nod and wrap your legs around him.

You feel a slight grin on his lips. You start to unbutton his shirt. More and more of his muscular chest is exposed. You notice slight scars on his skin as he lets go of your neck to pull his shirt over his head. You breathe heavily. You let your fingers wander gently over his chest and feel the scars. You bite your lip lightly.

"Shall we stop for a moment and admire each other's bodies?" he asks you with a teasing undertone.

You look up into his eyes. "Shut up, I said," you whisper. He chuckles softly and kisses you again. His hand continues to wander along your thigh. It slides under your nightgown and you let your hand slide down his neck. You gently grab his neck and pull him closer to you. You notice how your undergarments are getting more and more soaked. When his fingers suddenly slide over your folds, you moan into his mouth. He doesn't hesitate for long and pushes your undergarments aside. He feels your wetness immediately and his fingers are immediately soaked.

A deep groan forms in his chest. His fingers find your clit and start to leave firm but gentle movements on it. You moan again and gasp. You grip his neck tighter and he grins at you.

"You like that..." he whispers.

You just whimper as he moves his fingers faster. You kiss him again and try to undo his trousers at the same time. But you are distracted by his fingers. When he suddenly inserts two fingers into you, your efforts stop.

"Daemon...", you moan a little louder now.

"Yes...? I must prepare you for my cock...", he murmurs simply and lets his fingers slide into you.

You look into his eyes. Your cheeks are flushed and you are breathing heavily. He smiles at you. You moan as he lets his fingers disappear inside you again and again. You close your eyes and pull him towards you. Your lips find his lips and when he inserts a third finger, you just whimper. But you start to move your hips towards him.

Suddenly you hear him open his trousers and they slip to the floor. Your tongues continue to dance around each other as he suddenly stops inserting his fingers into you. Instead, he reaches for your undergarments and pulls them down your legs. You breathe heavily and watch his movements. You see him bite his lip as he just drops your undergarments on the floor. But then your gaze falls on his body. Daemon is standing in front of you without his shirt and trousers. And you see his entire size.

You now bite your lip as you look at his cock. It is big and thick and you can already see a few drops polling around at its tip.

His big hand pumps a few times his hot length and then he lets the tip of his cock slide through your wetness. You hear him grunt softly and can't hold back a moan of your own.

He kisses you again and lets his hand wander to your ass. Slowly he pulls you closer to him and you feel him slowly push his cock into you. You bite your lip. You gasp as his big member almost splits you. But it feels so good. He gives you time to adjust to his size. You start to move your hips towards him. And he takes that as a sign and his thrusts become stronger. With each thrust he is deeper inside you. His grunts get louder and you start moaning in unison with him. He fills you completely. Your arms are around his neck and you close your eyes. His hands are on your hips and he makes you slam down on his cock faster. You cry out in passion. The table beneath you starts to creak with each thrust, it is obviously not designed for such activities.

Suddenly one of his hands is on your shoulder and he pushes you down gently. You follow his instruction and lie down on the table. Immediately his hands are on your hips again, setting the pace. You wrap your legs around his waist to push him closer to you. The slapping of your naked skin and your lustful sounds fill your chambers. With each thrust, he grazes your sweet spot in your wet core. You moan out. Daemon notices how your walls clench around his cock.

Without hesitation, he begins to rub your pearl with his thumb. You reach for his biceps as a wave of excitement floods through you.

"Daemon..." you gasp.

"It's all right, I've got you. Show me how good it is for you... Come on my cock," you hear him say in his deep voice. His thumb moves faster and his thrusts become harder.

And then an incredible feeling floods you.

You moan, but his thrusts don't let up.

"Daemon," you moan and continue to grab his biceps.

"Yes... Yes!" he just grunts. You close your eyes and are a moaning mess. And then you hear him groan loudly. His moans become softer until they subside completely. You are both breathing heavily. You are still lying on your desk. Daemon is still standing between your legs. He lets his head hang down and you feel him slowly pull his cock out of you. You notice his cum leaking out of you and dripping onto the floor. But you can't move. Your eyes are closed and you try to catch your breath. You notice how he gently caresses your thigh.

"I wanted to take Rhaenyra's maidenhead that night... In the brothel...", you suddenly hear him say.

You open your eyes and look at him. He looks at you closely.

Neither of you says anything.

When suddenly he breaks the silence again, "But I couldn't"

You continue to look at him.

"Why?" you ask quietly.

He swallows briefly, "When I saw you that night. You, the perfect, good princess who did something forbidden... That somehow confused me..." he says quietly. His fingers continue to caress your thigh.

"I don't know, I just couldn't," he says a little louder.

You have to smile slightly and sit up.

"So my uncle does have a conscience," you say teasingly.

He has to smile slightly, "Then I guess I shouldn't have taken your maidenhead"

You smile, "Who said you did?"

He looks at you a little startled.

"I was joking," you say before he can say anything.

This time he has to laugh. He starts stroking your cheek.

"Maybe your father had better not find out about this," he says suddenly. But you have the feeling that there is a hint of sadness.

You look at him. Suddenly you have to smile slightly.

"Except... When I tell him I want to marry you," you say.

His eyes grow wide.

"What...?" he whispers.

"Well... He wants me to get married. And I get to have the last word," you say.

"But you are so often annoyed with me," he says with a smile.

"Well... at least that guarantees it won't be boring," you say quietly.

Daemon just shakes his head slightly and leans forward. He kisses you softly.

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@aemonds-wifey @hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemond-targaryenx @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @dreamlandcreations

[ladyoflindon]

Overzealous Herald (Elrond Peredhel, Rings of Power)

Author's note: Written with my OC Eleniel but can be a reader insert too

Summary: Elrond is an overzealous herald, and some day, he burns out. His darling wife nurses him back to health.

As the daughter of High King Gil-galad, Eleniel knew the pressure was on for her to maintain a graceful and elegant front as the Princess of Lindon. She knew the pressure of the court, to live up to everyone's expectations, but never in her life had she seen someone so...committed to it as Elrond was.

She knew that he always felt inferior, due to his half-elven heritage. Many a night, she had spent with him in their bed, reassuring him that he was more than enough as she pressed soft kisses to his shoulders. But it seemed that she had failed to actually convince him.

She saw the emotion he hid behind his perpetually lingering smile and his sweet words. Deep down, Eleniel knew one thing.

Elrond wasn't okay.

----

"Elrond," Eleniel spoke as she entered his study, shutting the door gently behind her. He was bent over his desk, scribbling madly, a fire burning in his eyes as his quill scratched the parchment. On the ground, she saw several broken quills, no doubt swept away in anger.

"What?" Gone was the shy, sweet herald she'd fallen in love with. In his place was a tone of vindictiveness, pent up anger. Eleniel was a little taken aback by his tone of voice, but she needed to get around whatever it was Elrond was experiencing this time.

"Elrond," she spoke softly, fiddling with a lock of her long hair. "Are you alright?"

He didn't answer her. Eleniel could hear her heart shattering, but she ignored the pain and continued to linger in his study. She moved closer to his desk, her steps feather-light, and reached out to pick up a particular document to read it.

Almost like lightning, his hand shot out to catch hers. Elrond snatched the document out of her hands and slammed it on the desk so hard the quills rattled in their inkwells.

"Leave it," he growled.

Eleniel's blue eyes widened at his words. What had happened. "Elrond, I-"

Her sweet herald snapped. "If you have nothing to say, leave!" He got out of his chair, grey eyes blazing and a stray strand of brown hair falling in front of his face. Elrond was glaring back at her, his eyes ablaze with a fury she'd never seen.

However, he saw Eleniel's eyes, blue like the boundless sea. They were wide open, perhaps with shock and a little fear. Instantly, Elrond's eyes softened, and he took a step towards his wife. "Melda, I...I apologise," he murmured, his eyes downcast. "I don't know what came over me, I..."

Tears pricked the corner of his eyes, and before he knew it, they started cascading like pearls broken from a chain down his cheeks. Eleniel's heart clenched and she pulled him into her embrace.

"Talk to me, Elrond. What's happening?"

"I...I push myself too hard..." he sniffled, burying his face in her shoulder. "It's my fault...all of it."

"I hear them talk, you know," he continued, "that I'm not worthy of you, not even worthy of being here, because I'm a peredhel. I'm trying to prove them wrong."

Eleniel pressed a kiss to his forehead, and pulled away just enough to look into his eyes. The beautiful grey eyes she so loved. "Elrond," she sighed, "you don't need to prove yourself to anyone. If those...idiots cannot see that you're more than your heritage, the fault lies with them and their poor judgement."

"You think so?"

"I know so, Elrond," Eleniel agreed firmly. "Your kindness and sincerity far surpass any flattery the courtiers utter. You're genuine, you love helping others no matter who they are...need I go on?"

She pulled him to her again. "Okay, I'm officially relieving you of your duties for the rest of the week. You're to take a break, away from your work."

Elrond looked up at her, unintentionally flashing those puppy eyes. "What about the High King?"

Eleniel laughed. "Whatever objections the High King has, he can run them by me, because my lovely herald needs a break!"

She tackled him to the ground, pressing kisses to any inch of him she could reach, namely his face. Elrond laughed as he felt a knot in his chest unravel.

He needed this. To heal, to rest. As he looked down at his wife, still kissing him fervently, he knew something.

Elrond had all he needed right here.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Vil, Jack: a Strength that Shines

Ayyy, it’s the childhood friends (?) from the Shaftlands!! It feels like forever since we last got any significant interactions between Vil and Jack. Nice to see them chatting again~

bdjwvsjsGuabs THAT GROOVY THOUGH… Vil looks so judgmental and dismissive 😭 Channeling all his Mean Girl energy to diss Neige Snow White, lol

A Tale as Old as Time.

Four sides drew together to form a glittering box. A lovely maiden rested within the coffin-like casing of the photo frame. Her lips as red as blood, her hair as dark as ebony, and her skin as fair as snow.

She was circled by foliage, her sun-dappled face tilting up, disarmed by some distant call. The girl cupped her dainty hands together, housing a small baby blue bird in her palms. Kindness, goodness, grace—she exuded all of them.

Vil scoffed, tossing golden hair over his shoulder. Her smile was reminiscent of a rival celebrity, one pure as a dove's feathers.

So carefree, so cheery.

How irritating, he sighed.

"One ought to be more cautious in the woods. Who knows what dangers might lurk nearby, wishing to enact harm upon her.

"For a glamour shot though... Hmm, yes. This composition is acceptable. The sunlight is angled upon her face in a pleasing way—it casts a golden glow on her pale visage and highlights the highest points: cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead. The impression is one of total innocence.”

A soft grunt sounded from beside him.

"She's... shining," Jack commented plainly. His critique, clipped. “Didn’t you do a photo shoot like this recently? Similar place and everything.”

Vil’s beauty was momentarily marred by a grimace. “Yes, as promotional material for an upcoming film. However, the feel of it was completely different than what you see here.”

Shadows instead of sunlight. Temptation in the place of innocence.

He, poised amid the creeping branches and dark leaves, a tatter cloak clinging to his curves. A single, crimson apple in his grasp, a sultry look directed at the camera.

He tried to picture himself like the girl in the frame countless times over. Kneeling among the woodland creatures, smiling so serenely. Any pro could pull it off—he included.

But the image never turned out right in his mind.

Not the right amount of sweetness, not natural enough.

Not quite the same.

Not at all.

Blood, sweat, tears. Sacrifices made at the altar. Yet still, the world yielded nothing but broken promises and shattered dreams. The splintered parts and shambles of them, he gathered, forming his own makeshift hope and determination.

He couldn’t give in here.

Vil’s perfectly groomed brows scrunched up.

“I shall have to endeavor to work even harder. I’m not satisfied with things as they are now.”

“Heh.” Jack cocked a small, lopsided grin. “Keeping on the grind… That’s just like you. You've got this."

“Obviously. Nothing will get accomplished otherwise.” Vil’s eyes passed over to the beastmen. “Presumably, you are doing the same."

"Yeah. Haven't skipped a day of my training regimen." Jack slapped a hand on his bicep, which fit snuggly in his glittering white sleeve. "We'll take out RSA next track and field meet!"

"I'd certainly hope so. If I am to taste sweet revenge, I'd prefer it be by my own hand... but I trust you to deliver in my place. I expect good news when next we speak. Do not disappoint me."

"Yessir!" Jack's tail wagged enthusiastically. He stood alert, saluting like a loyal knight. “I'll do my best!"

“Then it looks as though we both have our long-term goals set.” The dorm leader planted his hands on his waist—slim, cinched.

"Yours is...?"

"To surpass myself." Vil jerked his chin toward the girl in the painting. "To shine so brightly that my name not only goes down in history, but overshadows that which was written before."

"That's some big dream you have." Jack shook his head. "The scale's beyond what I can imagine. But knowing how stubborn you are, Vil-senpai... You seriously won't quit until you make that dream come true."

"My, my. Stubborn, am I?" He smirked, arms crossed. "I do believe it takes one to know one.

"You stand back and watch. I'll show you just how dazzling I can be."

His eyes held a steeliness to them. It was matched only by the same in Jack’s. Two strong men and their wills, meeting on equal grounds.

Jack simply nodded—an acknowledgment, an acceptance, of his upperclassman’s confidence. Overwhelming, like a powerful wave, a strong storm, a blazing inferno. He almost felt compelled to drop to one knee, to kneel before such a presence.

Vil turned away from the painting, his arms unraveling from one another. His movements were graceful, nearly ballet-like. And his expression—

Jack caught him mid-laugh. The snooty, airy kind, half-sincere, half-sarcastic. Brows upturned, mouth twisted in a faux sympathetic smile. Flaxen waves framing his lovely features.

His lips moved.

“I’ll topple you from your throne,” Vil vowed.

It was then that Jack noticed.

Vil-senpai's shining like the fair maiden.

[604to647]

Third Time's the Charm

5.3K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!Reader

Summary: After two failed attempts, Tim finally takes you on a first date.

Warnings: Mostly fluffy with a wee sprinkle of angst/anxiety/insecurity (on Tim's part), soft!Tim, nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, one [1] baby, one [1] sweetheart), drinking/wine, kissing, allusion to smut.

A/N: Another instalment of The Rockford Portfolio! As always, these one-shots can be read as standalones, but if you're curious, this one takes place right after Marine Attraction (and I guess almost a year before Husband Material?) I hope you enjoy as we continue to jump around on the timeline of this couple's relationship!

Photography inspired dividers by @saradika-graphics 📸 Series Masterlist

Detective Tim Rockford doesn’t get nervous.  Not after more than two decades on the force, facing down dangerous felons and seeing the seedier side of life in LA.  In his line of work the difference between nervousness and nerves of steel was often a bullet.  Detective Tim Rockford doesn’t get nervous. 

So understandably, it took him a moment or two to recognize the feeling vibrating throughout his body, but undoubtedly, it’s nervousness.  Big, bad Detective Tim Rockford is nervous for your first date.

It’s not even regular first date jitters, where one is unsure if the spark will be there or if the evening will be full of awkward pauses; you and Tim have talked on the phone or texted everyday since the Grandma Ursula verdict and the conversation is always easy flowing.  He finds you to be smart, funny and oh so very sweet – he’s positive that chemistry won’t be a problem with you. 

The fact that this date has been over half a year in the making isn’t even what worries him.  He might be concerned about the propensity of reality to rarely live up to expectations after a prolonged build up, if it wasn’t for the fact that everything about you that he’s gotten to know so far, has surpassed the you he’s been imagining in his mind for the last seven months.  Fantasy has nothing on real world you, of that much Tim is sure.

No.  Tim’s nervous because he’s not even sure you want to go on this first date with him anymore.  Not when this is actually the third attempt at a first date, with him having cancelled on you twice already.

The first time, he had caught you right as you stepped out the front door of your building, technically before you left for the restaurant but not until after you had spent an inordinate amount of time fussing over your outfit, hair, make-up and internalizing your friends’ pep talks (Tim didn’t know about this last part).  The beat cops had brought in a perp late in the afternoon on some misdemeanor, who upon offered a deal to avoid a third strike conviction, had started spilling information about everyone under the sun.  When the detective in the interrogation room heard the names of several people connected to Mr. Pie, she had immediately called upstairs to Tim who didn’t have a choice but to ask you if the two of you could postpone.

The second time, the two of you actually made it to the restaurant.  You were sipping on your pre-dinner drinks while perusing the menu when the call came in from the precinct that the Chief of Detectives, under fire from the commissioner, was at the precinct and had called everyone involved in the Pie case in.  No explanation or details.  Or exceptions.

You had been more than understanding.  According to Tim, shortly after the closing of the Grandma Ursula case, the long hard work of detangling and dismantling Mr. Pie’s large criminal network had begun, and to the frustration of many (or so it would seem), even several months later, the police had made little headway.  You assured Tim there was no need for his fervent apologies and refused his offer to pay for your dinner when you said you were happy to stay and have a meal by yourself. 

Now, a full month after the reading of the Grandma Ursula verdict, Tim is finally taking you on a first date (again).  He chooses a different restaurant this time, determined to erase any memory of his first two disastrous attempts to take you out, hoping you won’t hold the outcome of your first two first dates against him - though he would honestly understand if you did.  Tonight has to go perfectly.

Turns out Tim had nothing to worry about.  You meet him at the new restaurant looking radiant and in a perfectly good mood – no hint of snark about his two previous (failed) attempts to take you out; he should have known – you’re too good natured and frank for that type of passive aggressive behaviour.  In fact, you seem positively giddy – complimenting him on his restaurant choice and assuring him sincerely how much you’ve been looking forward to this.  Your sweet disposition puts him at ease faster than the whiskey he orders when you’re finally seated.

Tim can’t take his eyes off of you; it’s not just that you look beautiful tonight, because you do – hair and make-up soft but sultry and an outfit chosen (for him? He can only dream) to flatter your alluring figure, hugging your curves in all the right places.  No, it’s not just that.  It’s the brightness and charm you exude in even the tiniest things you do – from the way your eyes twinkle when they dance over the menu, and the musical lilt of your voice as you cheerfully ponder the myriad of options you’re interested in trying, to the way your fingers curve around the stem of your prosecco glass when you give it a little swirl before bringing it up to your perfectly plush lips.  You’re just so effortlessly graceful and at ease, quiet confidence emanating from your very being.  Tim thinks he could get drunk off of just being near you.

And that isn’t even the best part about being with you.  Tim finds it so easy to relax around you, both of you taking natural turns carrying the conversation that never stops flowing – you talk about everything: hobbies, work, what you love about the city, what you hate about the city, the latest NY Times Connections puzzle, and what feels like everything in between. 

Turns out you know a little (lot) about wine (something about a college wine tasting course that you flunked and you’ve been trying to redeem yourself ever since) – Tim sinks back comfortably in his chair and listens to you talk about tannins and noses and oak barrels like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever heard, gladly and with genuine curiosity handing you the wine menu to pick the bottle for the evening.  He watches with amusement as you cross reference yours and his menu selections with the wine listings, brow furrowing in adorable concentration as you take your charge seriously.  He likes this about you – that you always seem to care and take care.  When the Barolo you choose is uncorked and poured, Tim finds it washes over his tongue wonderfully.  You chatter on about how it’s a wine that’s bright and firm in its acidity, but known for a subtle complexity despite its lightness in body, all while floating delicate floral notes.  Tim smiles to himself and wonders if anyone’s ever studied the correlation between wine characteristics and the people that choose them; he may very well be indulging in a glass of you.  Your enthusiasm catching, he thinks you might turn him into a wine guy just yet.

Are you talking too much?  You’re talking so much.  You can’t help it; not only does the conversation flow so easily with Tim, but you’re just so darn nervous to finally be going out with him.  You had thought it terrible luck that your first two tries at a first date had to be cancelled and in truth, worried that Tim might not think a third try to be worth it.  After all, it had been seven long months of no contact while the Grandma Ursula case finished up – perhaps, there wasn’t enough interest or incentive for him to try and force something that didn’t seem to be happening quite as easily as it should. 

But maybe what they say is true and the third time really is the charm.  You’re sitting across from one of the handsomest, smartest men you’ve ever met and having the most wonderful time.  Tim’s company is beyond pleasant; he’s far more interesting and charismatic than you have been imaging for all these months.  And attractive, sigh.  Not only does he look sharp and striking in his perfectly fitting suit, but his dreamy eyes light up whenever he’s listening to you and his velvety baritone voice makes everything he says sound practically hypnotic.  It takes everything you have not to drool and gawk at the way his black rimmed glasses sit on his strong nose and frame his perfect face.  So you talk and talk and talk, hoping you’re not making a fool of yourself.

The Barolo pairs perfectly with the mouthwatering food served by the restaurant; when the waiter brings your plates, you amuse Tim when you ask if he would mind if you take some photos.  He amuses you right back when he asks why you don’t use the flash since the restaurant is so dimly lit – he settles in, grinning at you like a love sick fool as you espouse the evil of using flash photography in restaurants.  Tim thinks he could listen to you talk about anything at length, but when you go on about your newly reignited passion for photography, the way your face lights up with pure joy cements it as his favourite topic of yours.  It reminds him of the first he met you.

Near the end of your meal, Tim’s about to reminisce about how the two you met at the aquarium when his eyes are drawn to a figure crossing the restaurant dining room; he forgets what he was about to say and just stares at the man who goes outside to take a phone call, hissing as the door closes, “Shit. Buchanan.”

“What’s a Buchanan?” you had watched Tim’s expression change, but instinctively felt that you shouldn’t turn your head to see who or what he was looking at.

Looking back at you, Tim feels a tinge of regret that he’s about to let work intrude on your time together once again, “Delroy Buchanan.  He’s one of Mr. Pie’s top lieutenants, but he’s rarely even seen.  We’ve been trying to track him for ages, but he’s always managed to give any tail the slip – that is if we can even find him in order to put a tail on him in the first place.  I can’t believe he’s here.  I wonder how long he’s been sitting in this restaurant and I didn’t even know,” Tim’s kicking himself, but it’s not really his fault – Buchanan’s table must be on the other side of the room somewhere behind the bar: a blind spot.

“Do you need to go?” you ask softly, your face falls slightly for a second before you recover, not wanting to make the detective feel bad.

But Tim easily catches your look of disappointment, “No, no, of course not.  Do you mind if I make a call at the table?  I need to try and set-up a surveillance team.”

You nod agreeably, “Do you want me to watch the door?  You don’t want him to get spooked if he sees you, right?”

Tim regards you with a stunned expression for a second, astonished at how your brain is already two steps ahead of his.

Shrugging, you grin, “I mean, you were on TV during the Grandma Ursula case?  You’re kind of famous, Detective Rockford.”

“Ah, I see now.  You only agreed to go out with me for the celebrity treatment,” he shoots back, but he’s smiling as he ducks his head down and faces away from the door as he calls in to the precinct. 

Over the next few minutes, you overhear a few murmured words from Tim’s conversation but mainly concern yourself with nonchalantly watching the front door – you pretend to take photos of the restaurant’s décor, you peek over the dessert menu you’re supposed to be reading, you feign scrolling through your phone.

When Tim gets off his call, you’re pleased to report your observations: a sharply dressed man, who by the description you provide is, in fact, Buchanan, came back into the restaurant less than a minute ago and is sitting with his back to you at a table just on the other side of the bar.  He’s in Tim’s blind spot, but you can see about half of the back of his head easily without craning your neck.  His table has been cleared and he’s sitting across from a pretty brunette girl wearing a red Diane Von Furstenberg patterned wrap dress.

Tim is speechless, he doesn’t even know where to begin with you – your observation to detail is one thing, but it’s the effort and earnestness you’re putting into his work, work that’s interrupting your date, that he can’t quite wrap his mind around.  How are you real?

“Brunette, you said?”

You nod, confirming the hair colour of Buchanan’s dining companion.

“Hmmmm… not his wife then.  Buchanan’s married to a blonde, although he’s supposedly in the middle of a divorce,” Tim muses.  He knows he should feel guilty about letting the job intrude on yet another first date, but he just feels so comfortable around you that he’s instinctively falling into his habit of thinking out loud whenever a case picks up, “I wish we had a clue as to when he was going to leave – the surveillance team is on their way, but if the timing is off, he’ll see them.  It might not even matter though.  The street outside is pretty empty – not a good place to start a tail, too easily noticeable.  Buchanan’s been too much of a pro at evading us so far, we can’t afford to lose this opportunity… fuck.”

Near the end of his rambling, Tim notices that you’re not looking at him anymore, but have a sort of far off look in your eyes.  Double fuck.  Of course he’s boring you with this cop talk.  And moreover, likely offending you too – you’re probably thinking that his work has ruined a third (and probably final) first date attempt.  He can’t blame you, of course – no one wants to be made to feel like less than a priority, and while that’s certainly not how Tim feels about you, he knows he’s doing a terrible job of showing it.

Before he can apologize for his work barging in on your date yet again, you stand and move past where he’s sitting.  You give Tim’s shoulder a little squeeze as you walk by, “I’ll be back.  Just going to use the restroom.”  Then you’re gone, without having heard any of his apologies.

Well, that’s it, thinks Tim, miserably.  You’re probably halfway out the bathroom window by now.  That or texting your friends to plan some kind of exit strategy emergency text that you’ll deploy when you return.  Disappointment and defeat claw at his chest.  For seven months, the memory of you had carried him through some of the harder days and disheartening lows of the Grandma Ursula case.  Like a beacon of light at the end of the tunnel, the memory of you had motivated him in the darkest hours of the investigation, offering him the hope that there was something good waiting for him when he finally put the case to rest.  Now all his yearning and anticipation had come to nothing, the potential of what could have been evaporating before even fully taking shape.

Tim’s in the middle of contemplating if it would be more preferable (less pathetic?) to finish dinner here by himself with a few more whiskeys than he had planned on, or deal with the looks of pity from his colleagues and join the surveillance team on their mission tonight, when you slide back into your seat across from him, positively beaming.

If Tim is surprised by your return or the ecstatic look on your face, it’s nothing compared to how unprepared he is for the words that come spilling out of your mouth.

In a hushed whisper, you excitedly share the information that’s almost bubbling out of you, “Ok!  Listen to this, Detective Rockford!  They’re done their dessert, but Buchanan always has an after dinner Irish coffee, so you’ve got at least fifteen minutes before they leave.  They’re going straight to the marina after this - he has a slip there that he keeps under a different name so his wife can’t get it in the divorce!!  It’s number 55, cause that’s the last World Series the Dodgers won in Brooklyn.  That’s where Buchanan’s from, did you know that?  I bet you did.”

Tim did know that, but how did you?!

You continue on cheerily, “Anyways, Buchanan’s supposed to meet someone aboard his sailboat tonight, so he’ll drop his girlfriend off at the Marina Plaza Hotel first and he’s promised her that the meeting won’t take longer than an hour.  Sorry, I don’t know who he’s meeting!  I didn’t ask – I thought that might be too suspicious.”

You’re finally finished, looking a bit flushed with pride and excitement, patiently waiting for his response.

“How did you learn all this?” You couldn’t have been gone more than ten minutes; Tim knows seasoned detectives that wouldn’t have been able to obtain the amount of information you just did after hours of interrogation.

Cupping your own face in your hands, you lean forward with your elbows on the table, eyes crinkling with elation, “Oh!  I made friends with the girlfriend in the bathroom!  I was watching their table for you and when I saw her get up, I decided to follow her – her name is Angela and she’s really nice.  And Buchanan’s actually quite good to her despite, in my opinion, dragging out divorcing his wife for a bit too long.  Anyways, I asked about her lip combo and we got chatting – I told her I was on a first date with a super handsome and charming guy, and that I was crazy nervous because I liked you a lot but had a suspicion that you were married!” You drop your mouth open comically, pretending to be aghast.  “She told me that sometimes married guys aren’t that bad and told me alllll this stuff about Buchanan, included how he always treats her super special on their nights together – which is how I found out about their plans tonight!”

As he listens to you reveal your methods, Tim is completely dumbfounded.  Tim’s so used to his work and his (some would say) unhealthy dedication to the job pushing people away (or worse, eliciting a morbid curiosity, as if his cases were some kind of sick entertainment), he never imagined that you might be any different.  But here you are, not only completely understanding of how his work is integral to his life, but carving a space for yourself around it and through you own initiative, gone out of your way to help him.  He’s amazed by you.  Grateful for you.

“I love you!” It slips out before Tim can stop it, “Oh, wait…” he’s about to start stuttering when he hears your laugh, light and melodic.

“I know what you mean,” you grin, pointing at his phone to encourage him to relay the information you gathered to the waiting surveillance teams.

I don’t think you do, Tim thinks, glancing back at you with reverence as you go back to studying the dessert menu.  He sends out the information obtained and a few directives to the team lead, getting an affirmative that a secondary team will set up at the marina while the first team moves to a spot enroute in order to be less detectable when they begin their tail.  Satisfied with the updated strategy, Tim turns his full attention back to you and the date – committed to letting his colleagues handle Buchanan for the rest of the evening.

After the waiter leaves with your order for the crème brulé, Tim jests, “Just for the record, I’m not married, Shutterbug.”

Giggling, you let out whoosh of air, making a silly whew sound, “Good!  Even though Angela made it sound like it wasn’t that bad, I don’t think I want to share you, Detective.”  Your eyes twinkle with playfulness, but you’re not lying.

“And you think I’m super handsome and charming?”

“Undoubtedly.  That part I was very honest with her about.  And the fact the I was nervous too… because I liked you so much,” you feel vulnerable admitting so much on first date, but it’s been seven months of putting your feelings for this man on hold, daydreaming about him and questioning sometimes if the connection you had felt with him is even real – you don’t want to waste any more time playing coy.

“I was nervous too,” confesses Tim, “also because I like you quite a lot, but mainly because I think I really fucked up this date before even going on it.”

You tilt your head quizzically – you can’t imagine Tim fucking anything up; he strikes you as being beyond competent at anything he deems worth doing.  You feel lucky that he’s made the effort to try and repeatedly take you out despite being obviously incredibly busy.

At your silence and confused expression, Tim presses on, wishing to apologize since he didn’t get a chance to earlier, “My cases take up a lot of my time. I work a lot - too much, probably.  I'm out of practice when it comes to making sure it doesn’t overrun my personal life, too.  I’m sorry that it keeps taking over our dates.  I promise, when it comes to you, work isn’t my priority.”

You’re so touched by Tim’s sweet words.  You can’t imagine feeling resentful of Tim’s commitment to his job and you want to make sure he knows that, “Don’t be sorry.  Your love for your work and the care you take to do it well so that the rest of us can be safe is one of the things I like best about you.  You make me feel special just by making an effort, Tim.  You don’t have to be worried about me feeling like I’m in competition with your job.”

“There’s no competition, Shutterbug.”

A warmth spreads throughout your chest at Tim’s quiet declaration; almost taken surprise by the surge of affection and desire you suddenly feel for this man, you try to cover up with some lighthearted teasing, “Besides, this was fun! Can we work cases on all our dates, Detective?”

“I’ll take you on as many dates and work as many cases with you as you’d like, Shutterbug.”

Damn it, you smooth talker, you, Detective Rockford.  It’s ludicrous to be expected to fight your attraction and hunger for him if Tim insists on being so darn charming.  So, you don’t fight it.

Staring into Tim’s deep chocolate brown eyes and seeing the gaze of longing reflected, you sigh and drop your eyes to his perfectly kissable lips.  He watches your tongue dart out and give your delectable upper lip a barely noticeable little swipe and suddenly he can’t stand it either - another minute passing without kissing you just simply will not do.  Tim leans across the table, barely able to conceal the shiver of delight that runs up his spine when he sees you leaning in to meet him; when your lips touch, the bright spark that ignites warms you where you connect until it converts to a low humming current that runs through your body, resting and collecting between your legs.  Tim’s mouth is plush and inviting, and when you press your lips to his, he matches each brush of your pillowy soft lips with a deeper, hungrier one of his own.  You can’t help but let one low moan escape your throat, and when your mouth opens to make the corresponding ‘O’ shape, Tim quietly licks in.

Maybe it’s a bit much for an over the table kiss in a fancy restaurant, but this kiss has been a long time in the making, packed to the brim with months of longing and hopes finally realized; you can’t quite bring yourself to care if people are staring.  This is the perfect first kiss with the perfect man.

So lost in this, your earth shattering first kiss, Tim doesn’t even notice Buchanan leaving the restaurant hand-in-hand with a giggling Angela; persuaded to part from you only by the unceremonious arrival of your dessert.

---

Afterwards, Tim offers to walk you home from the restaurant, rather than take a cab – you eagerly accept.  The normally easy twenty-minute walk takes well over forty-five.  Walking with your fingers laced through his, you pull Tim this way and that, pointing out all your favourite neighbourhood haunts that you want to introduce him to.  Tim can’t stop smiling at the way you want to make future plans with him.  He agrees to it all.

You can’t go more than a couple blocks without kissing him; Tim is such a good kisser.  His lips molds perfectly to yours as if he was made for you, and his talented tongue sends a tingle down the back of your throat that radiates all the way to your fingertips with every exploratory trip it makes into your mouth.  By the time you’re a block away from your building, you’re positively dizzy with want thinking about what else that tongue might be capable of.

When you reach the front door of your complex, you shyly slip your hands under the front of Tim’s suit jacket, feeling the hard wall of muscle underneath, “Detective Rockford, thank you for a wonderful evening.” 

“Pleasure was all mine, Shutterbug.  I can’t wait to do this again.”

You glance up at him and find his expression tender, but his eyes dark; it emboldens you.  Grabbing on to the lapels of his jacket, you use it to pull yourself up so you can whisper low into his ear, “Normally, I don’t invite guys up on the first date, but technically… this is our third first date, so…”

You let your voice trail off and look at Tim, searching his eyes and pleading with your own for where you hope you both want the night to lead.

Pulling you close and pressing his forehead to yours, Tim grins, “Every detective knows that even good rules can get tossed out on a technicality.”  You giggle at his corny cop joke and kiss him hard and fast before practically dragging him inside.

---

You stir in the middle of the night to the low vibrations of Tim speaking in hushed tones on his phone behind you, already missing the weight of his arm around your bare body that you had so comfortably been sleeping under.

Finishing his conversation, Tim hangs up and returns to curl around you, arm snaking around your waist, his wide hands coming to a rest just below your naked breasts; you shift back against him and murmur with a smile, “Did they get him?”

Tim presses a soft kiss to your hair, grinning at the intuitiveness of your question, “No, not tonight, but yes.”

You turn in his arms, intrigued by his answer, and open your eyes to a sight that sets your heart a flutter: Tim is positively beaming.

“Okay Detective, tell me the good news please,” you grin right back.

Tim can’t contain himself - he’s more than pleased to share the good news with you, especially since you played such a crucial role in tonight’s win, “The teams successfully put a tail on Buchanan without him knowing – they went to the marina just like you said.  The second team staked out the meeting at the slip you told us about and you’ll never guess who he was meeting with!”

“Who?” you wouldn’t have the faintest idea of where to begin guessing, but you play along - Tim’s excitement is rubbing off on you.

“The Accountant.” Tim says this with such gusto that you can’t help but giggle, happy for him.

Tim’s heart soars at the sound before he continues, “The Accountant handles all the money and books for Mr. Pie.  He’s even more elusive than Buchanan.  There was a handoff on the boat and the second team followed the Accountant to a drop site afterwards.  They let him make the drop and then took him into custody right after.  Now we know one more location that Mr. Pie operates out of – we’re going to stake out that building and figure out what they do there before arresting everyone inside.”  Tim looks positively gleeful at the thought.

“And what about Buchanan?” you can’t help it, you’re invested.

“Oh, we let him go back to hotel; first team is all set up on the same floor - he won’t be able to make a move without them knowing.  We’ll let him go about his day a little bit tomorrow before we pick him up.  Didn’t want to take him and The Accountant in too close together in case it spooks Mr. Pie.”  Internally, Tim is grateful for the misdirection tactic; it will eliminate any connection that the intel came from Angela, therefore erasing the role you played in tonight’s operation.  Not that he isn’t eternally grateful for your help, but he doesn’t want you formally involved in any of his cases again.

“Oh, that’s good.  I’m glad that you let him have his night with Angela.  You won’t have to take her in, will you?”

“No, she should be okay.  You care about her, eh?”

“She was nice!  I liked her.  Plus, if I got to have my perfect night with my “married man”, she should at least have hers,” you quip.

Tim laughs, giving you an affectionate pinch on your hip before his expression turns sincere and his voice drops, “Thank you so much, Shutterbug.  None of this would have been possible without you and your help.  I can’t thank you enough for… caring about my work.  For giving me another chance.  Just being you.”

He looks at you so intensely and with such devotion that you find yourself warming beneath his gaze despite your current state of nakedness.  Pressing a soft kiss to his lips, you do a mini shimmying dance of victory in his arms, “You’re welcome, baby.  Now tell me, is there some sort of rewards incentive program for helping out handsome detectives with their cases?”

“Oh yes.  You were automatically enrolled when I took your phone at the aquarium…” he grins, playing along, “… for that, you earned a date with said detective.”

“Right, very good prize,” you wiggle a little more before pressing yourself against Tim’s hard, bare chest, “… and for helping with the surveillance on Buchanan tonight?  What did I earn for that?”

Tim’s eyes sparkle devilishly and he lowers his lips to your ear, voice low and husky, “I think you were paid in two… no, three orgasms for that, sweetheart. We’re all square.”

A little gasp escapes your throat, Tim’s words taking you back to your marathon sex from earlier this evening.  Images of naked limbs and sweaty bodies entangled, Tim’s beautiful, girthy cock barely fitting in your hands, and his face buried between your legs flash through your mind.  You suddenly feel very flushed, fresh arousal starting to coat your inner thighs again. 

You extract the hand that’s pinned from beneath Tim’s side and make a peace sign with it, holding it up so Tim can see, “Two, Detective Rockford.  I believe I helped you apprehend two criminals tonight: Buchanan and The Accountant.”

Tim chuckles at your triumphant grin, realizing that he should probably get used to this: the perfect woman, always two steps ahead of him, outsmarting the famous Detective Rockford at every turn and reducing him to a puddle at her feet every time.  The two of you have only had one date, and he’s already head over heels for you.

Rolling you onto your back and looming his big frame over your welcoming body, Tim concedes happily, “You’re right, Shutterbug – I owe you one.  You intend on collecting right now?”

At seeing you adorably bite your lower lip bashfully while nodding with eagerness, Tim gives the thin sheet covering your naked bodies a quick flick of his wrist so it flies up, quickly diving underneath and letting the fabric float gently over his head.  As he kisses his way down your body, he grins against your warm, soft skin when he hears your squeals turn to moans above him.

Yep, best third first date ever.

[idkyetxoxo]

Criston Cole - Of Sand and Snow

Summary - In a land where duty binds hearts and souls, a forbidden romance blossoms, their stolen moments charged with longing and guilt. As their bond deepens, they are torn between honour and desire, knowing their love can never be.

Pairing - Criston Cole x Stark reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2424

Masterlist for Criston • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

The sea wind of the South tasted different. I had heard tales of its salt-drenched promise of sun and spice, but standing on the rocky cliffside, where sapphire waves kissed jagged stones, I tasted more—a tang of secrets, both tantalizing and treacherous.

"My lady." The voice cut through the rush of wind, low and steady. 

The sound had become a familiar melody to me, a rhythm I anticipated. Even when it came softened by the sea breeze, it carried an undertone of steel.

I turned and found him watching me. Ser Criston, shadowed by the afternoon sun, his eyes dark pools that seemed to drink in light and give nothing back. 

We had fallen into this dance—silent moments drawn out like breath, glances that lingered just too long. Hidden words on the brink of being spoken.

Ser Criston was every bit the proud Dornishman. Tall, with a bronze complexion kissed by relentless suns, he moved with a warrior's grace, each motion calculated but never forced. 

To the North, where life was harsh and unforgiving, such grace felt alien and dazzling. The North bred pragmatism; the South, it seemed, bred men like him—capable of smouldering intensity and the calm of the desert's night.

"Your thoughts drift, my lady." His words carried no accusation, only a rough curiosity, as though he wanted to understand the depths that held me so.

"To many places," I admitted with a playful twist of my lips. "Perhaps too many."

He arched a dark brow, and I imagined that if he ever smiled—a true smile—it would be rare and burn brightly, like a shooting star cutting across the night. 

"The one-eyed prince will not appreciate a distracted bride," he said, his tone dry.

I felt the prickle of indignation rise in my chest. "No one asked the prince's preferences," I shot back. My words held a hint of childish rebellion, and his eyes narrowed slightly in response.

"Ah," he murmured, his gaze holding mine with a weight that was almost physical. "Such defiance." 

The faintest flicker of amusement touched his lips, and I found myself leaning toward it, craving the warmth of a smile he seemed reluctant to give.

We had met first by accident—or at least, I pretended to believe it so. I had wandered through the sunlit Keep, drawn by tapestries that told stories I did not know. 

There, in a shadowed alcove, he paced as if the stones themselves mocked his unrest. His jaw clenched, the line of his shoulders taut. 

For all his calm exterior, he was a man who wrestled storms within.

"Dornish?" My question, abrupt and curious, spilt out. I was a Northern girl facing a mystery, and I had always been drawn to mysteries.

His eyes, as dark as polished onyx, shifted to me with a hint of surprise that he quickly masked. 

"Yes, my lady." He did not bow, nor did he move closer. Instead, he kept a distance that spoke of boundaries both physical and unspoken.

The silence stretched, brittle and taut. "I am of the North, you are the first Dornishman I have met," I blurted out, breaking the quiet with a clumsy honesty that I later cursed myself for.

His lips twitched as if debating whether to allow a smile. 

"Do I meet your expectations?" he asked dryly. It was a jest, but there was something in his eyes—a flicker of caution, a weighing of the risks.

"You surpass them," I replied, and when he resumed his pacing, I followed—step for step.

"My lady," he said, with a sigh that spoke of both reluctance and inevitability, "should I escort you back to your betrothed?" 

There was no sharpness, only resignation. But I refused.

Finally, I crossed my arms over my chest, a defiant shield against his scrutiny, feeling the spark of tension flicker between us. 

His gaze was unyielding, the sort of look that made lesser souls shrink away, but I refused to falter.

"Do you find me irksome?" I asked, tilting my chin just enough to inject a challenge into the question. 

My voice was low but steady, teasing out whatever truth lay hidden behind those dark, enigmatic eyes.

He shook his head, an exasperated sigh escaping him as if my audacity were something he found simultaneously tiresome and oddly endearing. 

A crease formed between his brows, deepening with barely restrained weariness. 

"Not irksome, no," he replied at last, and his tone, clipped but precise, carried just a whisper of something softer. "Merely... unexpected."

A ghost of a smile threatened my lips. He had no idea how unexpected I could be.

In the days that followed, I sought him out whenever my duties did not require me to remain at the prince's side. 

Our encounters were fleeting, stolen moments in corridors lit by flickering torchlight or shadowy alcoves hidden from curious eyes. 

Ser Criston did not welcome my attentions, nor did he truly turn them away. 

We spoke in fractured conversations, piecing together an understanding built from fragments of who we were beneath duty's heavy yoke.

He revealed, one night beneath a sky brimming with stars, that he knew their names and their stories, constellations etched into his memory from the nights spent beneath Dornish sands. 

I listened with rapt fascination as he painted word-pictures of sunlit festivals, dancers swirling like flames through desert evenings, and songs that trembled in the air long after they had been sung. 

In return, I offered tales of my own: of winters so cold the earth seemed to hold its breath, of rivers frozen solid, and of wolves whose howls echoed beneath Northern moons.

With each word exchanged, I grew bolder. His reserve, once a fortress, cracked enough to let light through. 

One day, as we lingered in the garden where lemon trees perfumed the air and cast dappled light over the path, I dared ask, "Does it bother you that I follow you like a shadow?"

His answer came, low and unsteady. "It should." For once, his voice was stripped of its practised detachment. "You are promised to another."

I felt the sting of those words, sharp as a blade. But his eyes, betraying a storm of conflicting emotions, spoke louder than any denial. 

He was a man bound by honour, and yet I saw the longing that tore at him as surely as it did me.

"Yet you never tell me to leave," I said, my words soft but weighty with truth.

For a moment, silence thickened around us, fragile and heavy all at once. I braced myself for the rejection I expected—for him to turn away, leaving me alone in this dangerous dance of what-ifs and unspoken desires. 

But he did not leave. 

Instead, he stepped closer, his presence filling the small space between us until there was only the thrum of my heartbeat and the faint rustle of leaves.

His hand, strong but calloused from countless hours wielding a sword, brushed mine. It was a touch so brief it might have been accidental—if not for the way he held his breath as if he too feared what it meant.

"I am weak," he murmured, the words spilling out like a confession. But they were not meant for me; they were an indictment of himself, a condemnation of the conflict within.

I closed the distance then, every step a silent rebellion against the fate that demanded we stay apart. 

"If you are weak," I whispered, "then so am I." 

And in that moment, I no longer cared for the vows, the promises, the worlds that conspired to keep us as nothing more than distant stars in someone else's sky.

The weeks that followed blurred into a series of stolen moments, each more desperate, more fleeting than the last. 

It was as though we were living on borrowed time—time that was never truly ours, but which we clung to all the same. 

Our meetings were often brief, moments carved out in shadows where the world couldn't see us, couldn't judge us.

There was an alcove in the western tower, hidden behind ivy and stone, where we found solace in silence and words that only existed between us. 

It became our refuge. A place where I could feel his presence without the weight of eyes upon us. 

We spoke of things we dared not say in the light of day—the kind of things that felt too dangerous to utter, yet too necessary to leave unsaid. 

I remember the way his voice would soften, despite himself and the way I would laugh—teasing, light, almost as if we weren't standing on the edge of something we both knew could end in ruin.

It was in those fleeting moments that I began to understand him—not the knight sworn to duty, but the man beneath the armour. 

He wasn't grumpy, exactly, though he would argue the contrary. 

He was simply a man who had learned to guard himself, to hide the parts of him that could be vulnerable. 

His humour was dry, like the harsh winds of the Dornish desert he hailed from, but his words were never without purpose, and I began to see that even his silence spoke volumes.

The touches—those touches—were always the most dangerous. A hand resting a breath too long on mine, the press of his fingers just enough to make my pulse race. 

His gaze, intense and sharp, would linger just a moment too long as if he were searching for something in me that he couldn't quite find. 

I never told him, but I felt it too—the pull between us, something magnetic and irresistible, even though we both knew it could never truly be.

But still, we continued to seek each other out. 

Each stolen minute we shared felt like both a gift and a curse, a brief taste of something forbidden and yet so undeniably right.

 And yet, with each moment, the weight of what lay ahead pressed heavier on me, the future looming like a storm on the horizon. 

My duty, my obligation, was clear: I was to marry the prince. 

To bind the North to the South, not by love, but by necessity.

One evening, as twilight descended, casting the sky in hues of crimson and gold, I found myself beneath a canopy of ancient oaks with him again. 

The scent of jasmine was thick in the air, and everything in the world seemed to hold its breath, waiting. He stood at a distance, his face a study in quiet torment.

"This cannot last," Criston said, his voice rough, like gravel, but laced with a sorrow that cut deeper than any sword could. 

He didn't look at me when he spoke, as if the words alone might be too much for either of us to bear.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. 

"I know," I whispered back, barely able to keep my voice steady. My heart was a whirlwind of emotions, but I held it together for this one last moment. "But for now, let us pretend."

And then, as if our worlds collided, our lips met. It was a kiss of longing, of desperation, and for those few seconds, the world ceased to exist. 

There was no duty, no marriage, no prince. 

There was only the heat of his lips against mine, the breathless silence that followed, and a brief moment where we were nothing more than two souls seeking solace in the arms of the other. 

In that kiss, I was free—untethered from the chains that bound me to a future I didn't want.

But reality was a cruel companion, and when we pulled apart, it came crashing down on us both. We had crossed a line—one we could never uncross—and neither of us was willing to pretend otherwise.

Our forbidden bond continued to grow, even as the guilt gnawed at us both. 

Every moment we shared—each stolen second—was both a treasure and a burden. My heart, torn between what I wanted and what was required of me, was a battleground of conflicting emotions.

The prince, ever watchful, began to notice the growing distance between us. His one sharp eye never missed a thing. 

One night, he confronted me. His voice, low and cold, was laced with anger, suspicion, and something darker—betrayal. I said nothing, because what could I say? 

The truth would destroy more than just me. It would tear apart everything we had fought to protect.

When I saw Criston again, it was under the weight of what we both knew had to happen. His face was pale, his features drawn tight with the burden of his resolve. 

"It must end," he said, his voice tight, controlled, but the pain in his eyes was unmistakable. "If we continue, it will destroy you—and I will not be the cause of your ruin."

The words hit me like a blow, but I couldn't stop the tears that began to fall. 

"But you are the cause of my happiness," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Is that not worth the risk?"

His eyes closed, as though the weight of my words was more than he could bear. "We have had our moments, my lady. That must be enough."

It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. 

But I knew he spoke the truth. He was a man of honour, and the pain in his eyes mirrored my own.

We parted, then—no promises, no assurances. Just the heavy silence between us, the echoes of what might have been and what could never be.

I married the prince, as was my duty. I became the wife he required—smiling when required, fulfilling my role without question. 

But in the quiet moments, when no one was watching, I kept Criston in my heart. A secret no one could touch, a memory no one could steal.

I saw him rarely after that, and each encounter was like a cruel reminder of what we had lost. 

He remained steadfast, the man of honour he had always been, loving me enough to let me go, even though I knew that letting me go had broken him, too.

Years passed, and I became a lady of the South, fulfilling my obligations, playing the role I had been forced to take. 

But I would often find myself standing on that cliffside, staring out at the endless sea. 

The wind would bite at my skin, but I would close my eyes and remember—the warmth of the sun on my face, the soft brush of his fingers against mine, the man who had stolen my heart but never claimed it.

He had given me something no one could take away—a memory, a secret, a love that defied the world, even if it could never conquer it.

A/n - Edited basc w my eyes closed so you should do the same if there's any mistakes x

[serialkilluh1996]

A/N: It's not my usual format, but I'm in the hospital right now. This is just pure brain vomit cause God knows I can't make a sensible scenario.

Imagine Soap survives that shot. A miracle, yes, but under mind-boggling circumstances. There he lays, left for dead, bleeding out from his aching wound, his eyes hazed from the excessive loss.

When he thought (surprised that he was still able to think) that it was over for him, with what little vision he had left, he saw death himself. Tall as a tree, dark as night, hooded in black, just like in the old tales. He expected something more traditional like a cloak and a scythe. Tactical gear and an assault rifle were definitely a more modern approach.

Death's embrace was far from gentle. The deity spoke in some foreign language, his words spoken at a speed that could only imply that he was swearing and cursing.

He was firmly yanked off the ground, thrown over death's shoulder like a ragdoll. Death was very strong. He would have expected being blissfully drifted off to the nether realms by a lanky skeleton, but he was instead met with the mighty strength of a strong man. Soap couldn't lie. It felt nice. He likely would have enjoyed the ride more had it not been for the gushing pulsing wound in his head.

That's when he began to think. The Reaper comes after one has passed, and it's said to be a painless experience. He couldn't possibly be dead yet, considering the throbbing headache. "...wh'are you?" He forced out, his words jumbled and gargled.

"Shhh." The figure hushed him. He sounded almost annoyed. Death didn't seem very patient with him. The ringing got louder and louder in Soaps ears until it eventually took over his consciousness. By the time he woke up, he was somewhere highly unfamiliar. It smelled like pinesol and cologne. The lighting was a dim honey yellow. It was quite easy on his eyes.

"You're alive, Mactavish." The tall man teases, his German accent only serving to make him sound more condescending. "How'd you know m'name?" He gruffs, holding back a cough as he scowled. "Save your breath. I know much about you and your crew. We're not much different, after all. You work with some of the deadliest men in the field. We could use someone like that around here."

Soap looks around the room, his eyes burning with every blink as he adjusts to being awake. "What'd you want from me?" He chokes, his lungs sore and heavy. "Save your breath I said! I need you in pristine condition. You're valuable, after all." " 'm flattered." He rolls his eyes.

"You should be. Not many survive a shot to the head. Do you know how long you've been out, Mactavish? Three days. Three whole days. The others had lost faith in you. But I knew you would make it." The man clenches his hand, leaning forward, his eyes somewhat manic. "...others?" Soap tilts his head.

"My team, of course." He leans back in his seat, his hands still on the bed.

"...you've yet to introduce yerself." Soap eyes him down.

"My name..is König"

"Konig." Soap tests the name. "No, no, König." "Yeah, that's wot I said. Konig." "No! You're saying Konig like icon. It's könig like ice cream cone." "....könick?" "Yes. Now put the G back on the end." "...König." "THAT'S THE ONE!" König yells, visibly ecstatic as he claps for Soap.

"Well, Mr. König. It's nice to meet you." "Yes, yes. It's been a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well. But we've surpassed small talk. You're here because we need you." König stretches. "Need me for wot?" "To catch Makarov. He's the man who put that bullet through your head, after all. Certainly, you'd want revenge."

"...What's in it for you?" "...we've got our own history." König lifts his hood, revealing his gruesomely scarred face. It was a mixture of burns and cuts, some of which didn't properly heal. "Fuckin' hell.." he curses at the sight. It reminded him of Ghost in a way.

"What do you say, Mactavish? Down for another round?" "I might not be as lucky as the first time, König." Soap's pretty blue eyes ponder into König's. He knew he had a life threatening job, but the mortality of it all really settled in after surviving that gun shot. König could tell.

"You will with my team. All we need is your strength and your knowledge. We take him down, and you can go back to your people safe and sound." "... I'll think about it."

[wake-me-up-inside-imagines]

HI ! I hope you are doing fine.

Could we have an AU where Charlie met his love in a meeting between the different mafia groups. His little dove is either a direct rival or the descendant of a rival mafia chef.

(gender neutral for Charlie's would be so cool!)

Sure thing! Honestly not sure if I did super well on this one but I hope you enjoy it!

Yandere mafia boss with a darling who’s his rival

Gn! Reader

Warnings: Mafia boss characters, somewhat stalking, mentions of potential kidnapping, obsession

Divider credit goes to @strangergraphics

Yandere Charlie who’s been competing with you for years. Being the head of his mafia would never have been easy, he knows that, but most of the time he’s able to get a leg up on anyone who dares go against him, whether it be an individual or a group like his. But with you…he’s never been able to surpass you. He’s not weaker than you by any means, he knows he’s giving you just as much trouble as you are to him, but…it’s not enough. He needs to be at the top, and he just can’t seem to manage that when pit against you and your organization.

Yandere Charlie who’s never met you before, not in person at least, and he never wants to. He knows who you are, of course he does, but why would he ever want anything to do with you? He’s running a tight and brutal business, and you’re getting in the way of what he wants, threatening to surpass him at any moment. It’s like you two are neck and neck, struggling toward the same goal, and he hates it. He needs to be the best of the best, he needs to be the most powerful, he needs to be feared above anyone else. He needs to get rid of you, but he knows that’s a risk he’s in no position to take.

Yandere Charlie who is determined to kill you if you were to ever face him, to wipe out your organization until only those he could use were left. He knows it’s a long shot with the way things are between you now, but all he needs is one opportunity, just one moment of solid luck…

Unfortunately, business comes before his murderous intent. So when a new, unprecedented rival arises, threatening to wipe both of your organizations out, Charlie must do what he can to neutralize the danger and keep his business thriving. And after much back and forth between the two of you, he comes to the unfortunate conclusion that it might be time to create a temporary alliance with you.

Yandere Charlie who doesn’t know what to expect when he goes to meet up with you in person, but he’s not taking any chances. He’s armed to the teeth with a barrage of guards following behind him, and he knows you’ll most likely do the same. It’s a tense situation all around, one he knows could lead to his death if he’s not careful, but what choice does he have? He has to go, no matter the risk.

Yandere Charlie who’s immediately stunned upon entering the meeting room, but forces himself to remain on his guard. You’re more stunning than he ever imagined you could be in person, but surely he should have expected that, right? You’re just as wealthy as him, you have access to every item you could ever need to make yourself appear as dazzling as you look. This is a trap, a mere distraction from the point of the meeting, it has to be!

But…Yandere Charlie can’t help but be drawn to you as the meeting progresses, although on edge. You’re beautiful, but more than that you’re tough, intelligent, and unflinching even in the face of such danger. It’s no wonder you’ve been able to keep yourself afloat in such a brutal business. You’d have made a good ally, if things were different.

Yandere Charlie who leaves the meeting with a new allyship, but also with new intrigue. He needs to know more about you…for security reasons. That’s why.

Yandere Charlie who only grows more infatuated with you as time goes on. You don’t seem to be warming up to him much, no matter how much time you two have to spend planning together, but he’s certainly warming up to you, becoming more and more infatuated by you to the point of obsession. Every interaction strengthens the feelings he’s trying so hard to push away, his thoughts have become full of nothing but you, he needs to know more about you, he needs to be near you-

Yandere Charlie who tried brushing off these feelings as caution, then curiosity, then hate. You’re supposed to be his rival! He’s supposed to be wary of you, to be plotting your downfall as soon as the other threat is taken care of, so why? Why is he so enamored by you? It has to be for the sake of his own organization, right? He just wants to make sure he can exploit your weaknesses, right? He hates you with his whole being…right?

Yandere Charlie who denies his feelings until he can no longer stand it, his heart threatening to explode at any moment. It’s not normal to become so flustered around his rival and he knows it. He shouldn’t be fantasizing about kissing you, he shouldn’t be desperate for your absent affection, and he definitely shouldn’t be scouring every source he can find for information about your type, what you like, if you have a partner. He’s in love, and he simply can’t stand not having you to himself anymore. He needs you, he needs you now.

Yandere Charlie who knows you’ll never fall for him, not if things continue on the way they are currently. He’s delusional, but he’s not stupid. He can’t trick himself into believing you’re a helpless thing that needs his protection like he could with a civilian darling, because you’re literally on par with him in terms of power and skill. You’d most definitely attempt to get him assassinated if he treated you as anything less than the powerful person you are. But…

Yandere Charlie who knows that if you two were to get married, it would mean your organizations would combine. Which means that you’d both have more power in a partnership. It’s a tempting offer considering what could be a stake, but hey, making an offer can’t hurt, right? (It can).

Yandere Charlie who hides his devastation at your adamant refusal, his brain racing as he tries to understand. He gets that your rivals, but do you really think after all you’d been through at this point that he’d backstab you? I mean, it’s a brutal business, but really? Is he that much of a perceived danger to you? How else is he supposed to show his love and dedication to you without coming across as weak?

Yandere Charlie who under normal circumstances would move on to kidnapping, but with you, he can’t. You’re too powerful and he knows it, there’s no way he’d be able to take you away, let alone hide you away in the safety of his house. For the first time in Charlie’s life, he’s stuck. He’s unable to obtain the one thing he so desperately wants, and you’re none the wiser to it. He wants you so bad, but he can’t have you, and so he sits in his misery, every interaction with you breaking his cold heart a little more.

All he can do now is get closer to you and pray that an opening pops up. Or that you change your mind and fall head over heels in love with him. It can’t hurt to dream, right?

He’ll have you one day, he’s sure of it. He has to, because if he can’t have you…there won’t be much of his sanity left to keep him a float.

He just hopes you’ll come around. For his sake, and for yours.

[meluiloth]

Elrond Week Day 1: Childhood and Peace

Summary: Elrond, Elros, and Elwing wait for a ship. 675 words

Twilight was falling over Sirion, and Elrond waited on the docks for a ship that hadn't come.

He looked a little like a gull's egg sitting in his mother's lap, with his freckled face and dark hair, and Elwing was the protective but comforting mother bird, wrapped in a white silk gown and a mantle of cormorant feathers. It was her finest cape, and soft as well; Elrond was glad that he was sitting where she could not see his face, for his eyelids were beginning to droop. The only sounds were that of Elwing's breathing and the gentle lapping of the waves on the docks; the city was falling asleep, but Elrond was determined to remain awake and see the ship sail in.

His twin brother, Elros - the more restless of the two - was walking on the very edge of the dock, his thin arms outstretched like a bird in flight as he balanced on the border. His dark hair rippled in the faint breeze, and his eyes - more alert than Elrond's - gazed downward at the indigo water below him, though they often glanced up to the horizon.

The three of them had been here since early afternoon, when the sun was still in her peak, and the first few hours had been brimming with excitement. They shared a picnic dinner by the riverside, laughing and talking, and it felt like they were just like any of the ordinary families Elrond saw idling the days away on the shore; it was rare that his mother could be relieved from her duties as ruler of Sirion, and of course his father was away for months at a time and visits were infrequent. Today was the day his ship was to come, and then their family would be whole once again.

But the day had passed, and there was no sign of him.

Elrond suppressed a yawn and, realizing that he would drift into sleep if he remained in his mother's lap - and if that happened, he would miss the ship sailing in - drowsily stood up and stretched. His mother gave him a small smile, but there was a tinge of sadness in her deep blue eyes, and a weariness that far surpassed the sleepiness Elrond was fighting.

He went to stand by his brother, who by this point had tired of his pacing and simply watched the horizon with a look halfway between pensive and resentful. Elrond slipped his hand into Elros's, and the twins gazed together. Night had fully fallen now, and with it, the understanding that the ship would not come today. Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps the next day ... it was nearly impossible to predict the right time, and perhaps they should not have expected so much of the Sea.

Warm, soft hands rested on the boys' shoulders, and Elwing enveloped them in a gentle embrace. They knew it was time for them to leave; tomorrow was still full of lessons for the twins, and Elwing's royal obligations could never wait for long.

Neither Elrond nor Elros shed any tears as they left the dock behind - they were too sleepy, and too accustomed to this kind of disappointment - but Elwing's hand trembled a little, and Elrond looked up to see her hastily catch a tear that slid down her cheek, glistening in the moonlight.

"Don't cry, mother," he murmured, his brows furrowing in childish worry; if there was one thing he could not bear, it was the sight of tears. "It's going to be all right; he will come tomorrow."

"Will he?" Elros asked, looking at his brother with a mixture of hope and anger.

Elrond swallowed, but he nodded.

Elwing, seeing the sorrow in her sons' faces, hastily brushed her tears away and gave them a comforting smile. "Of course he will," she assured them. "And if not tomorrow, then as soon as he can. You know the promise we made to each other, all four of us: We will always find each other."

This is my first entry for @elrondweek! I'm really happy with how it turned out, and I'm so pleased that Elrond Week is finally here! I hope you like this little one-shot I wrote!

[vee-vee-writes]

A Chance at Redemption (Raditz x platonic!gn!sibling)

Warnings: mentions of character death

Sucking in a deep breath Raditz shot up grasping his chest. His fingers found the rough cracks and gaping hole in his armor but it was the smooth undamaged flesh underneath that disturbed him. Scanning his eyes over his chest the Saiyan could see no visible signs of the blast wound that damned Namekian had given him. There was no reality where this had been a bad dream, after all he could see the lush fields and distant mountains of his landing site on the Earth. Yet somehow here he was, unscathed with no pod in sight nor any signs of the prior battle he had fought.

Could it be a miracle? Had he somehow returned to life? It was the slimmest of chances but had Vegeta used the Dragon Balls to revive him? As the world had begun to spin and fade Raditz swore he had heard Vegeta scoff at Nappa’s suggestion of reviving him. It wasn’t like Vegeta to go out of his way to do anything for anybody else, least of all Raditz. No, the princeling had always looked down upon him. His status as a midclass Saiyan with high battle power ensured that. One less Saiyan simply meant less competition for Vegeta in the brutal world they found themselves trapped in. Still, it also meant one less ally – maybe even with his shortcomings Vegeta had realized he needed Raditz’s aid if they were ever to overcome the bonds of their slavery.

The sound of someone clearing their throat behind him quickly snapped him out of his thoughts. Whipping his head around to gaze over his shoulder his eyes to assess the situation. Long spikey black hair and a distinctive ape-like tale betrayed the Saiyan ancestry of the figure. But it was the dark eyes that reflected a glint of understanding and soft smile that betrayed who the Saiyan was.

No matter how long it had been since the destruction of Planet Vegeta, no matter how long it had been since he’d seen her, Raditz had never forgotten his mother’s face. Dark onyx pools that crinkled up at the corner as Gine beamed down at him with all the warmth of the sun. Most Saiyan’s were distant with their children, off world on mission or engrossed in their work, but she had always had time for him.

As he rose to his feet one thing was clear, the Saiyan standing before him was (Y/N). Despite your class and battle power matching Raditz’s, the decision had been made to send them off world with your lower-class twin brother. When he had arrived on Earth and begun his search, Raditz had expected their battle power to have been the greatest on this mudball of a planet. Yet, the first creature he had come across was the Namekian and the second Kakarot. Truthfully, he’d simply written (Y/N) off as dead. It made no sense that Kakarot had either matched or surpassed his twin.

But here you were standing before him unscathed, hands held up to show that you meant him no harm. “(Y/N) I expected you to be dead, yet here you are. You missed the family reunion” Raditz jested in his characteristically overconfident tone, “but never mind that. Tell me what happened, how am I here?” His demands were met with a simple answer, “I think it’s pretty obvious. You died and I figured since we had given Vegeta a second chance at a peaceful life here on Earth that you probably deserved the same. After all you are family.”

Before he could even process what had been said words were blurting out of his mouth, “Vegeta is here? On this planet and its somehow completely unscathed? What do you mean a second chance? As if you, Kakarot, or that pesky green man could have defeated him and Nappa.”

“Not only did Goku, who we revived with the Dragon Balls, beat Nappa but we beat Vegeta too. Not before Vegeta killed Nappa for his failure to beat Goku though. Sent Vegeta back to Frieza relying on the life support systems in his pod to keep him alive. After Vegeta defected from the Frieza force, tried to gather all the Namekian Dragon Balls, got himself killed teaming up with us against Frieza, we used one of the wishes to bring him back. He lives here on Earth now, we actually kind of live together” (Y/N) asserted, eyes searching his own to gauge his feelings.

For the first time in his life Raditz found himself speechless. Not only had Vegeta actually fought Frieza and lived, well kind of, he had actually settled down somewhere. Nappa was dead too. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On one hand he had essentially raised Raditz since the loss of their home. On the other he had smeared Raditz’s low born status in his face from the day they had met, setting Raditz apart from the other two Saiyan’s. “You’re telling me that Vegeta, the single most blood thirsty and ambitious Saiyan I have ever met in my life, lives on Earth. That somehow he rebelled against Frieza, lived, and that pink alien son of a bitch let him go?” Raditz questioned suspiciously. Based on his siblings body language and tone of voice it was unlikely that he was being lied to. Still, the sentiment that no Saiyan was trustworthy, even to their own kind rung true in his mind. After all, he’d grown up with Vegeta under the watchful eye of Nappa and yet they had left him to rot.

“Yeah I probably should have led with the fact that Frieza is probably dead. Long story short, several of us travelled to Namek to try to use their Dragon Balls and came across Frieza who was there to do the same. We fought him, just about all died and then Goku burst out of the healing pod we had him in. Frieza was afraid of Goku so he decided to blow the planet up but not before he was sliced in two by his own attack. Nobody actually saw him die but even if he is alive he shouldn’t be too hard to beat now. Goku’s alive by the way, he’s still out in space finishing his training god knows where. As if achieving Super Saiyan wasn’t enough, he has to get one over on the rest of us by getting extra training. It’s not like I’m even allowed to leave the planet, someone has to keep Vegeta in line. I’m pretty sure he’d go ballistic if both of us were out there training without him” you reflected flippantly.

Super Saiyan…like the fable. There was no way. Now Raditz knew he was being made a fool of. But as if sensing his rising distrust (Y/N) stepped back and began to rapidly gather power. Muscles bulged and a yellow aura began to envelope his counterpart. Then it happen. (Y/N’s) long spikey black hair turned a glowing blonde colour. “See this is what a Super Saiyan looks like” Y/N mused cheerfully, “I could teach you at some point if you like. All you have to do is come live with Vegeta and I then we can train together.”

Mouth agape and thoughts racing, he nodded numbly at the proposal. Life had suddenly become far more exciting than it ever had been since Vegeta’s destruction. Who knows, maybe this Earthling life that his two siblings had gotten used to was worth it. One thing was certain, the only way to truly find out was to follow (Y/N’s) lead. Perhaps this was his chance at redemption.

Want to read more? Check out my masterlist here.

[bratbby333]

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ blog update ! ] ࿐ྂ

+ some housekeeping and info on new writing

hello my loves !! i wanted to give y'all some insight on what's been going on in my mind palace lately. there's a lot...so...cmon, take a walk w me...and maybe bring some snacks.

ੈ♡˳ first and foremost ! my work has received a lot more attention recently and i am so excited. with actual tears in my eyes, im happy to report that i surpassed 1,000 followers the other day. i am at a loss for words...just...stuck in a perma-state of disbelief.

im sending out the biggest thank you to everyone who has supported me, who's interacted with my work, to the lovely friends ive made though this account and to the heartbreakingly beautiful anime that brought me here in the first place. i am genuinely in awe...overwhelmed, even...i didn't expect any of this to happen when i started this blog and i am forever indebted to all of you for getting me here. im actively fighting off the inevitable surge of imposter syndrome as i type this out...i just love y'all so fucking much. this community means the world to me and i wanna scream at the top of my lungs in order to demonstrate my deepest appreciation for each and every one of y'all.

ੈ♡˳ secondly ! a message for my little angel babies, my day one followers; thank you for taking a chance on me. for watching me grow. for sticking around as i worked to get better at writing. im sure a lot of you started following me for my gamer!bf sukuna series...trust me, i love him and i know y'all do too. but i feel like my writing is heading in a different direction...and with a heavy heart, i'm absolutely gutted when i say that i am taking a pause on that series. i am forever grateful for the support and may return to him soon, though i cannot promise that. i owe so much of what my account is now to that series and i will never forget that.

for everyone who joined me as i delved into dark/dead dove content, thank you from the bottom of my heart for allowing me a safe space to explore different forms of story-telling. my choso fic was the first stepping stone and then i skipped every other stone on the path and jumped head first into the deep end with my dead dove gojo fic...i deeply appreciate all the positive feedback i received on both of those. after posting them, i realized that i am very into writing dark content. i know that taboo themes/dark content/dead dove subject matter isn't for everyone and i understand people's apprehension in regards to it. but with that being said, i will be moving forward with publishing darker content.

ੈ♡˳ so here's the writing update !

i did a poll asking y'all what kind of content you enjoy. a good chunk of people said long form fics (which is great, cause i do too !! mommy needs plot). so, i am migrating away from one shot writing. both because i've been thinking about it for awhile and because y'all are into longer stories, as well. but fear not, i will still write shorter stuff along with headcannons, drabbles, etc...it just won't be the main focus of my blog anymore.

ੈ♡˳ now, time for the big reveal ! perhaps it's a bit anticlimactic, but bear with me...

im so excited to announce that i have two new series coming ! it will be a dark, modern!au featuring choso (with a few other special guests) and a dead dove sukuna series.

i'm almost finished with the outlines, and have fully completed the theme layout + mood boards for both works. i hope to get the first few chapters wrapped up in the next couple weeks. if you want to be tagged in either of these (or both), just leave a comment or send me a message !

(also !! i may or may not be cooking up a dark medieval au series in collaboration with another writer on here...so be on the lookout for that hehe)

while i take breaks from writing my two series, i'll be working through my requests ! so if you've sent one in, i promise i will get to it, unless i literally cannot think of a good way to write it (im only human, im so sorry). also, im sure we already knew this, but im a slowww writer. i wish i could churn content out quick as fuck but i am too hypercritical of myself…it's both a blessing and a curse, honestly.

if you made it all the way to the end of this nightmare of a brain dump, i love you. if you've been with me for a while, i love you. if you're just now joining me, i love you. everyone who’s supported me in any way, shape, or form, i love you.

i present you with the sloppiest kiss with tongue (only if you want it, of course. i can also give you the tightest hug, the gentlest head pat, or my social security number...access to all my bank accounts? a mansion in the hills? my passport? hand in marriage? my first born child? literally whatever you want, babe).

okay !! i think that's all for the updates. feeling: very ambitious and motivated but also overwhelmed and mildly stressed but overall super excited for what's to come. im looking forward to this new adventure and i hope y'all come along with me ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

thank you again…for literally everything. yall hold a special place in my heart and always will. so, here we go !

see you on the other side, my loves.

— jade 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪