#because I know who she looks like in my mind eye

[woso-dreamzzz]

If You Were My Little Girl II

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Things are looking up

Alexia watches from the stands.

They're mostly empty, like almost all Barcelona B matches.

Women's football has only really started picking up steam recently but only at the top flight. The lower level leagues are still having a bit of a popularity issue.

But Alexia, for once, finds that she doesn't mind.

Because it means she can sit practically alone in the stands as she watches the home match.

A notepad sits on her lap, a pen tapping against the pages thoughtfully as she watches.

Barcelona B are good and Alexia has never expected anything different. She's seen the system at work many times as La Masia churns out players like Aitana and Pina and Jana, and more recently Vicky and Martina.

There's a reason so many clubs wants La Masia products.

They're all good players but even now, Alexia can tell a great player when she sees one.

You rise up among the crowd in the box and slam the ball into the goal, the net rippling with the force of the shot.

The best part, Alexia thinks, is that you didn't even need a moment to control the ball, hitting it in on the volley and grinning as your teammates practically dogpile you.

A hattrick in ten minutes is impressive in any league and Alexia makes another note in her notebook, humming softly to herself.

She rises out of her seat at the end of the match, disappearing into the building and out the doors.

It takes another half an hour for you to appear again, hair damp and an old crew neck sweater that Alexia's pretty sure is Alba's being tugged over your head.

You slip into the passenger seat, throwing your bag into the backseat and Alexia pulls your head down to press a kiss against the side of it.

You smile shyly at her as she offers up the fries she'd bought for a job well done.

"You did good, kid," She says," Very impressive."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. But I think we're going to work on evading slide tackles next," Alexia says as she drives off," We're trying to keep those ankles of yours intact, alright? I'm going to need them this season."

You roll your eyes and Alexia clicks her tongue.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," She says," I've got a good feeling about that meeting later in the week. A great feeling, actually. You should have one too."

"I'm managing expectations."

Alexia looks at you fondly. "Well, we'll see which one of us is right in a few days."

She lets you choose the music in the car, like she always does when you've scored a goal and you pull up to the apartment a lot quicker than you want to seeing as you're in the middle of singing along to your favourite song but, still, you drag yourself out of the car and up the stairs.

"How was the match?" Olga asks as she greets Alexia with a kiss on the lips.

"She did very well," Alexia brags," A hattrick within the first ten minutes and another goal in injury time."

"Exciting," Olga says indulgently as Alexia grins, already giving her running commentary of everything that happened during the match.

You escape though, hurrying to raid the cupboards before Alexia finally comes to her senses and tries to stop you 'spoiling' your dinner.

You don't know if there's any way to thank Alexia for what she's done for you.

Just three months ago, you were convinced that you were going to quit. You had no passion for the game, no hope of what your future was going to be but now all of that had changed.

You had direction. You had a manager. You had new boots and a place to live that wasn't a group home and support and love and everything seemed to be coming together for you.

A toe pokes you in the leg.

"Move."

"Alexia says that if you're trying to nap on her sofa again then I don't have to move," You tell Alba, who huffs and pokes you with her toe again," She also says that you have your own apartment and should stop mooching of us."

"But Olga's a better cook than me," Alba complains and you roll your eyes.

"Aren't you an adult? Even I can cook."

"Yeah but it's not like you could mooch off your sist-"

Alba falls silent quickly and you pretend to not notice what she was going to say for both hers and your own sakes.

The topic of your sister is kind of off limits when you're in the room. It's not completely banned because Alexia's still Jenni's national teammate but she's not really spoken about if you're in the room.

Alba's face flashes with terror for a moment so you pretend you don't notice her slip up ever though it sends a bolt of lightning into your stomach, a deep pit forming there.

It works for the most part, everyone in the house pretending Jenni isn't who she is to you, pretending that she's just Alexia's teammate and not her friend and ex, pretending that Alexia fostering you isn't her walking on a tight rope because Jenni doesn't know.

All Jenni knows is that you didn't quit when she told you to.

Jenni doesn't know that you live with Alexia. Jenni doesn't know anything. You doubt she even thinks about you when she's got a life far away in Mexico.

She lives there, far away from you and your life here in Barcelona.

She lives there and her presence is hardly ever mentioned around you.

Life is good at Alexia and Olga's house. Life is even good at training, though you could do without the smug little smirk Alexia has on her face when she picks you up.

"You already knew!" You accuse her, waving a finger in her face.

"Knew?" She asks, lips curl up in what can only be described as pure smugness," Knew what?"

"Right, who told you? Go on. Who was it?"

Alexia grins. "You do realise I am the captain? Any time they're looking to bring someone in, they ask me my opinion."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah and I'm sure you gave it."

"You're a good player. A great player," Alexia says," All I did was tell them what they already know."

You look down at your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. You want to be mad at her, to yell at her for keeping this from you. Maybe even yell at her for promising to the staff something you're not but you know she hasn't done that.

If she thought you weren't ready, she would have told them that.

But Alexia didn't. She didn't tell them to let you have a bit more time with the B team. She didn't tell them that you don't quite have what it takes.

"Thanks."

Alexia smiles at you as she drives home, a comfortable silence enveloping you both until your hand is on the door handle.

You stop.

"When I open this door, there's going to be a party, isn't there?"

"I may have told Olga...who told Mami...who told Alba...who told the rest of the family..."

"Is that a yes?"

"Possibly..."

"And there's no getting out of this?"

Alexia ruffles your hair, a soft kiss being pressed to the side of your head. "They're here to celebrate you."

You suck in a breath, just ready to turn the handle when the sound of the lift doors opening chimes down the corridor.

Both you and Alexia turn your heads towards.

It's just a fleeting second.

Just a moment.

But your good mood plummets as the door opens.

Alexia's hand tightens on your shoulder, pushing you slightly behind her and putting herself between you and the elevator.

Between you and Jenni.

[covenofagatha]

Sugar, spice, and everything nice (Part 2)

Word count: 3500+

Warnings: making out, slight mentions of masturbation, sex toys

You’re on your new laptop the next day when Agatha walks into the bakery. Your face lights up and she smiles at you the second she’s through the door. Like every time you see her, she manages to take your breath away. 

“Hey!” You exclaim, motioning your hands around the laptop. “Thank you so much again. You did not have to do this.” 

“I know I didn’t. But I wanted to, hon,” she says. Agatha’s now stopped in front of the counter, looking at you expectantly. 

“Do you want the usual?” 

She smirks playfully. “Do you remember everyone’s order?” 

“Only the ones that tip about 500% and buy me laptops,” you joke, but there’s some truth to it. You’ve had customers that have come in every day for a week and you don’t even realize it’s the same person. She seems satisfied with your quip and nods. 

“I’d love the ‘usual,’ thank you.” 

This time, though, when she holds out the typical $50, you pull out the change from the register and insist she take it. She raises an eyebrow. 

“Please, Agatha, you just bought me a computer,” you say, the beg coming out a little whiny. She teasingly rolls her eyes and takes the money from you. “Thank you. Your coffee will be right up.” 

“Actually, can you make it two?” 

Your heart skips a beat. Who is joining her? A friend? Her partner? 

And then you inwardly scold yourself for caring. 

“Oh, yeah, sure. Another espresso?” 

She shrugs slyly and skates a finger over the countertop. “I don’t know. What kind of coffee do you want?” 

You stare at her blankly, trying to make sense of her question. She must see your puzzled expression because she tosses her head back with a laugh. 

“I’m asking you to have coffee with me, doll,” she explains and the lightbulb clicks in your mind. 

“Oh–oh my god! I’m sorry.” Of course you’re making a fool out of yourself in front of the most beautiful woman on the planet. 

“You don’t have to.” This is the first time you’ve ever seen a flicker of doubt on her face. 

“No, no, I want to. Go sit down and I’ll bring the coffee over when I’m ready.” 

She sits down at the normal booth and you busy yourself making an espresso and a pumpkin spice latte. This time, you allow yourself to glance at Agatha and you feel something in your stomach when you notice that she’s already looking at you, a fond smile on her lips. There’s a tug in your gut and you smile back. You’re not sure why the older woman is drawn to you this much, but you are not complaining. 

There’s something about her too. Something that pulls you in and doesn’t want to let you go. 

You successfully make the coffee this time without any broken laptops and you bring them over to the table, sitting across from her before she has to ask. She looks pleased and blows on her coffee before taking a sip. 

“What’s your drink of choice?” She asks, nodding at your cup. 

“Oh, just a pumpkin spice latte,” you say dismissively. “I’m a big pumpkin fan.” She nods like it’s the most interesting thing she’s ever heard. “And, thank you again. For the laptop. You really didn’t have to do that. Is there anything I can do to repay you?” You don’t mean for it to sound as dirty as it does and she smirks like she hears it too. 

“There is one thing you can do.” You urge her earnestly with your eyes. “Go ice skating with me tonight?” It’s getting colder in Westview and the winter festivities are being broken out, including the Winter Wonderland in the square. Complete with an ice skating rink, hot chocolate stands, a snow pit, a hill for the kids to sled down, and even more, it was a town favorite. 

You frown but your heart skips a beat at the thought of her wanting to hang with you. As a date? “How is that repaying you?” 

She flicks her hand. “The money isn’t a big deal. I just want to get to know you better. Unless you’re busy.” 

“No, I have literally nothing to do later,” you say, shaking your head. She looks relieved. “Can I at least pay for the tickets?” 

“Honey,” she scoffs playfully. “I asked, so I’m paying. If you want to pay, you’ll just have to ask me to do something another time.”

“This sounds an awful lot like a date,” you say before you can stop yourself. The corners of her mouth quirk up and she raises an eyebrow. 

“Do you want it to be?” 

“Yeah,” you answer almost immediately, your voice hoarse at the thought. A date. With a rich, hot, older woman. She smiles genuinely. “What time? Oh, I hope all my winter clothes aren’t at home.” You haven’t been back in awhile to your parents’ house and you only brought the necessities to make it until you go back. You’re not sure how many cute options you’ll have. 

“I’ll pick you up around five-thirty? And do you have warm clothes?” She gives you a once-over. You’re in jeans and your uniform top. In the back, you have the heavy coat you wear when you have to go outside, and back at your dorm, you have sweatpants. Not exactly up to par with this gorgeous woman. 

You smile and nod and try to not appear too nervous. What to wear is always a point of stress for you. She must sense this because she reaches over to pat your hand reassuringly and then pulls out her wallet from her pocket. 

Before you can protest, she slaps a credit card down on the table. Your jaw drops and you look back and forth between it and Agatha. 

“Go to the mall and get whatever you want,” she tells you, and there is not even a trace of a joke in her tone. 

“How do you know I won’t just buy a car or something crazy?”

She laughs. “I trust you. And I don’t think you would. You seem like a good girl.” She puts a lot of emphasis on those words and it makes you feel hot. You’re sure your cheeks have turned red. “Text me your address before tonight, yeah?” 

You nod because you don’t trust yourself to talk at this point. What kind of woman just casually hands over her credit card to someone she barely knows?

“Um, thank you,” is all you can muster the strength to say. She gives you one last smile before getting up from the table. 

“I’ll see you tonight, doll.” 

The moment you’re done with your shift, you head to the mall. You’re not exactly sure what will suffice for the date, but you hope you’ll know it when you see it. 

You eventually find some black pants that make your ass look great and a cute purple sweater with a blue vest. It’s a little pricey though. You know Agatha said to get whatever you wanted, but you still feel a little guilty, especially after she’s thrown so much other money at you. 

So you text her. Hey Agatha! At the mall right now. Just want to check if there was a limit to how much I could spend? I found some stuff but it’s almost $200. If that’s too much, no worries at all! You send her your address as well before you can forget. 

She immediately replies. Get the stuff and anything else you want. I can’t wait to see what you’ve picked out ;) see you later. 

The winky face causes heat to pump through your veins and you bite your lip. You clear your throat and head to the check-out, heart beating fast when you press Agatha’s credit card to the reader. It goes through and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

You still can’t believe she just handed it over so willingly. 

Is she your sugar mommy now?

The question weighs on your mind until she texts you that she’s outside your building later that afternoon. You give yourself a once-over and run downstairs to her car. The new clothes are comfy and warm and she looks at you approvingly when you slide into the passenger seat. 

“Good choice,” she says. 

“Thank you again,” you reply, a little breathless from the cold and your speed. You take out her card from your wallet and hand it to her. “I can’t believe you just gave your card to some random stranger like that.” 

She laughs along with you. “I know you wouldn’t do anything. You seem too desperate to please.” Your face heats and you’re not really sure what to say. She isn’t wrong. There’s something about Agatha that makes you want to do whatever she says. “How was the rest of work?”

“Oh, good.” You wave a hand dismissively. “It was a pretty slow day today. Did you have work?” 

She launches into telling you about her newest court case and you find yourself absolutely fascinated to the point of not even realizing that you’ve arrived. Everything Agatha says has you absolutely enthralled and by the faint smirk on her face, she knows it too. 

She leads you over to the ticket stand, her hand on your lower back, and confidently buys two. 

“Thank you,” you say again, a little flustered by how she hasn’t let you pay for anything. You’ll be damned if you leave without buying her a drink or something. 

“Of course, doll. Do you want to skate first?” You nod eagerly, causing her to chuckle, and you both go to pick out skates. She has to help you lace them up after you fumble with them for a while since your hands have become so cold. 

“Full disclosure, I’m not very good at skating,” you warn her when she’s holding onto your arm at the gate. 

“I can help you, sweetheart,” she says and your heart feels so full. 

She gets onto the ice first and lets go of the railing so she can grab your hands and assist you in stepping onto the rink. Your eyes widen when you almost fall after moving your foot forward and it shoots back, but Agatha catches you in her strong arms. 

“Oh my god,” you exclaim as she stands you back up, never letting go of her tight grip on you. 

“It takes a bit to figure out. How many times have you ice skated?” 

“None,” you say, tongue poking through your lips as you look down at your feet and focus on sliding them forward. She glides backwards with you effortlessly. When you finally look up at her, she’s staring at you with something written on her face you can’t quite read. “What?” 

“You could’ve told me that you hadn’t, I would’ve taken you to dinner or something else,” she says. 

“No, no, it’s totally fine. I would’ve done whatever you wanted to do,” you reply half-mindedly. You’re more focused on skating around the corner. Once you do so successfully, her hands move from your wrists to only one hand holding your hip. 

But her touch makes you jump, fire igniting in your stomach, and you slip and fall on the ice. 

You groan in pain and Agatha stifles a laugh before squatting down to check on you. The cold has seeped into your wet pants and the humiliation burns your cheeks. 

“You okay, doll?” 

You nod your head defeatedly. “Yeah, just a little wet.” The moment you say it, you can see her eyes darken just the slightest. Your breath catches when you realize the innuendo and there’s a tense silence with the two of you just staring at each other while others skate around you. 

“Well, let’s get you up. Want to keep trying?” Agatha asks finally. She gets back on her feet as gracefully as ever. 

“As long as you don’t let me fall again,” you joke and take her outstretched hands.

“I didn’t let you fall, you did that all on your own,” she says playfully. 

She carefully lifts you up and you grab onto her biceps when you’re fully standing so you don’t crash back down. Her hands grab your waist again to hold you steady and when you look at her face, she’s staring at your lips. 

“Agatha,” you say, but you’re not sure what else to add because now you’re staring at her lips too. She leans in an imperceptible amount and your mouth parts involuntarily, ready for a kiss. 

“Look out!” Someone shouts and the next thing you know, a three foot tall blur runs straight into you, knocking you, Agatha, and the random person down. 

“Sorry!” The kid exclaims and jumps up to skate away, leaving you and Agatha wincing on the ice. 

“Why don’t we go find something else to do?” She asks and you’ve never been more happy to agree. 

Agatha helps you up once again and this time, interlocks her fingers with yours and slowly skates with you to the exit. 

Once you’ve gotten your shoes back on, Agatha buys the two of you cups of hot chocolate and a pretzel to split and leads you over to a bench so you can sit. 

“Thank you for this,” you say, shoving a piece of the pretzel into your mouth. 

“My pleasure, sweetheart.” 

The pet name does things to you that you can’t say and you find yourself wishing that the almost-kiss on the ice actually happened. You feel so connected and attracted to Agatha, even though you’re not sure why. 

“Why do you keep tipping me so much and buying me all these nice things?” You’re finally brave enough to voice the question that’s been on your mind since the first day she came into the bakery. 

She smiles and reaches over to squeeze your hand. “You deserve it. And I like spoiling you. You get this cute little look in your eye.” You blush instantly and she laughs. “Like that.” 

“Well, can I take you out sometime soon? Maybe for dinner or a movie or something?” 

“I’d like that. I’m free Tuesday or Thursday night this week.” 

“I’ll see you Tuesday then,” you say, happy that she’s finally going to let you treat her to something. “Unless I see you at the bakery first. It seems to have become an integral part of your morning.” You’re teasing but part of you wants her to elaborate on what she’s doing. 

“What can I say? The cinnamon crumb cake and the espresso are to die for,” she says with a wink. You laugh despite yourself. 

Comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you sip on your drinks and eat the pretzel. 

“Is there anything else you want to do?” She asks. 

“Can we go on the ferris wheel?” 

“Of course, dear.” She stands up and offers you her hand and you obviously take it. 

The line for the ride isn’t long at all so you basically walk right into a passenger car. Agatha sits next to you instead of across from you so she can wrap an arm around your shoulders. The wheel starts turning and something on the ceiling catches your eye. 

“Is that mistletoe?” You ask, pointing up at it and then looking at Agatha, who is also peering up at it, corners of her mouth quirking up. 

“Looks like it,” she answers thoughtfully and then glances at you playfully. “Shall we?” 

You don’t even answer, just clasp her cheek with your hand and pull her in. 

It’s a slow kiss at first, just a press of your mouth against hers, but then she opens her lips and slides her tongue into your mouth. You moan into her mouth and try to pull her even closer to you so you can feel more of her. She sucks on your tongue and your teeth make a clicking noise when they clash against each other. 

When you have to pull back for air, she kisses down your jaw and then gently bites on your neck. You gasp and your hips jump against nothing. 

“Agatha,” you breathe and you can feel her smirking as she nibbles on your earlobe. A fire stokes to life in your stomach and your body feels like a lifewire. One of her hands dips under your vest so she can cup your breast through your sweater. You whimper and she chuckles lowly. “Please.” 

“Is this okay?” She asks and you nod so hard your head hurts. She smirks and her hand slides down and under your sweater. 

The coldness of her fingers against your warm stomach makes you gasp but you like it and you pull her back in for a kiss. Her hand keeps moving up under your shirt and she’s about to reach your bra— 

—and the Ferris wheel stops. You let out a sigh of disappointment and Agatha laughs. 

The door to your car opens and the two of you step out. You wonder if your face is as red as it seems and you hope that no one accidentally saw you two making out. 

“So what now?” She asks once you’re back in the middle of the fair. But there’s only one thing on your mind right now. 

You don’t care that you’re surrounded by people right now; you stand up on your tiptoes and give her a searing kiss which she returns immediately. Your hands wrap around her neck and hers find their place on your waist. You end the kiss by tugging on her bottom lip and when you pull back, her blue eyes are dark and hooded. 

“Can we do more of that?” You breathe and she chuckles. You’ve never wanted anyone so badly in your life and you think if you don’t have her hands on you in the next ten minutes you might die. 

“Anything you want,” she whispers and presses one last chaste kiss to your lips. “Does this mean you want to leave?” 

“Please,” you beg and she smirks at how visibly desperate you are. You’ve become so wet and needy since she put her hand on your waist on the ice. You practically drag her back to the car and when she pulls back in front of your dorm, you look at her with begging eyes. “Come in?” 

The moment you say it, you realize how ridiculous it sounds. Bringing a hot, rich, older woman up to your living space that’s probably the size of her closet so she can fuck you in your twin sized bed? Plus it was your first date and you’ve known her for less than a week.

She’s clearly thinking the same thing because she smiles softly and says, “Maybe on Tuesday, doll.”

And yet, you whine. “Why can’t we just go back to your place right now? Please, I’m so-” You cut yourself off before you can tell her just how much you really need her. 

Her smile turns into a knowing smirk. “Why don’t you go upstairs and take care of that yourself then?” You gape and a flush climbs up your neck and to your face, but she leans in and keeps going. “Use your hand, or a toy, to think about me. Just to tide you over for a bit.” 

“I don’t have a toy,” is all you can think to say with your brain short-circuiting. That shouldn’t have been the part to focus on, but Agatha pulls back with wide eyes. 

“You don’t?” 

And then the image of Agatha using a toy on herself inserts itself in your brain and you have to cross a leg over the other to get some sense of relief. “No,” you squeak out. 

The glint in her eyes is positively evil. “Have a good night, doll.” She gives you one last kiss and then unlocks the car door. You give her a playful glare and then go upstairs. 

After you’ve showered and put on pajamas, you slide your hand down your sweatpants and touch yourself. 

It takes all of three minutes before you cum all over your hand, just replaying the kiss with Agatha in your mind. 

You fall asleep quickly after that and in the morning, you’re surprised to see a notification saying that you have a package in the delivery room. You throw on a sweatshirt and head down and it’s a medium sized brown box with your name and an A. Harkness as the mailer. 

Frowning, you take it back to your room and cut it open. Moving the flaps aside, you peer in the box and gasp. 

There’s at least four sex toys. A vibrator, a dildo, a different type of toy, and then a small box. You pick up the box and immediately drop it. 

It’s a remote controlled, long-distance vibrator. 

Your breathing has quickened and you feel your underwear growing wet yet again because of Agatha. 

And then you see a piece of paper. Hands shaking, you pull it out and open it. 

Hope you enjoy ;) Maybe you can wear the vibrator on Tuesday. See you soon. 

[d-z20]

The Familiar's Return (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: After a quiet night takes an unexpected turn, you find yourself drawn back into the orbit of two witches who once owned your soul. Your bond as their Familiar begins to pull tighter, reigniting flames you’d long buried. In the shadows of magic and desire, you must navigate old connections, simmering tension, and a power that refuses to let you go.

- OR -

You flirt with Alice to make Agatha and Rio jealous so they fuck you to put you back in your place

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, bratty reader, top agathario, magical restraints, smidge of begging, mention of orgasm denial, fingering (Reader recv)

Words: 3.7k

A/N: totally didn’t write reader flirting with Alice because I want to flirt with her. This was written for this request that's been sat in my inbox for a while oops

AO3 | Masterlist

You’re lying on your bed, unwinding after a long, mundane day. A book in your hands, a mug of tea on the bedside table—just another ordinary evening. But then your eyelids grow heavy, and the pull of sleep becomes too much. You set the book down, curling into the warmth of your bed and closing your eyes for a moment...

The next thing you know, you’re waking up with a groan. You blink a few times, confusion clouding your mind. It’s dark, but the air feels different—charged somehow. You stretch and sit up, a little too quickly. That’s when you hear a voice above you.

"Uhhhh, guys, does the road usually have people just lying around sleeping?"

You blink again. The road? You glance around, confusion rising. This isn’t your room. You’re not even in your house. Instead, you’re on a strange dirt path, surrounded by towering trees that stretch endlessly in every direction, bathed in an eerie, otherworldly light.

You rub your eyes. That’s when you see her: Rio Vidal, one of your old owners.

She grins, flashing a wild, flirtatious smile. She’s clearly surprised, but there’s no hiding her amusement at seeing you again. “Well, well, look who decided to show up.”

The familiar tug at your soul confirms it: Agatha is here too. You don’t even need to see her to feel the connection. That bond... it’s been so long. You’d almost forgotten how strong it could be.

That must be how you ended up here. Their reunion summoning you to their side. Just when you thought you were free of their messes. Fucking brilliant.

Before you can finish that thought, a witch with red streaks in her hair walks over, frowning down at you.

“Who the hell are you, and what are you doing on the Witches’ Road?”

You freeze. The Witches’ Road? You knew it to be a con—something Agatha had fabricated to further her own power. But this place? It looks real. Too real. So what the hell are they doing here? And where exactly is here?

"Hey, answer the question!" The witch snaps, her tone sharper this time. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

You smirk up at her, unbothered. “Oh, just your average wanderer, looking for a bit of fun.” You stand up, brushing yourself off and raising an eyebrow at the confused faces around you. “I’m Y/N, by the way. Familiar extraordinaire, at your service.” You bow, bringing her hand to your lips for a playful kiss. “I was Agatha’s and Rio’s little pet back in the day.”

The witch blushes at your gesture, and the rest of the coven stares at you, unsure how to respond. But before anyone can say anything, Agatha’s voice cuts through the awkward silence.

“Alice, sit back down,” she orders, before her attention shifts to you. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

You meet her gaze, a cocky grin spreading across your face. “Guess I got summoned by your delightful company,” you say, glancing at Rio. “Seems like the connection still works, even after all this time.”

You cock your head to the side, glancing around at the others. "Well, this is... interesting. Always thought the Witches’ Road was a little too good to be real, right, Agatha?" You wink at her, and Rio laughs from beside Agatha, clearly entertained by your antics.

"Oh, this is definitely real," Rio says with a smirk. "Good to see you haven’t changed."

You flash a wicked grin. "Oh, you have no idea just how much I’ve changed, darling." The words hang heavy with implication. Before, you’d followed them around like a loyal, obedient plaything. Not anymore. Tonight, you were going to have some fun with them.

As the others chat, you notice Alice still watching you. Her gaze is intense; curiosity piqued.

You sit next to her, leaning back and crossing your arms to flex your muscles. “I have to admit, I’m intrigued by you, Alice. What's your story? I’ve always had a soft spot for women with a bit of edge.”

Alice blushes again, trying to maintain composure.

Rio laughs, clearly enjoying the way you’re provoking Agatha. She plays along, her voice laced with amusement. “You are exactly their type, Alice,” she says with a wink.

Agatha glares at you from across the fire, but there’s something more in her eyes—a flicker of jealousy she can’t hide. It’s that same old dance, and you’ve missed it. You love pushing her buttons, even when she tries to act indifferent.

Alice clears her throat, breaking the tension. She eyes the symbol on your arm, her voice dipping into something more serious. “That mark... what is it? Some sort of spell?” She lifts her sleeve to reveal a small tattoo. “My mother made me get this. Protection, she said.”

You glance at her arm, then back to her face, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Protection, huh? That’s cute.”

You lean in just a little, your fingers tracing lightly over her tattoo. “But no, my mark isn’t a spell. It’s the sign of a familiar. A scar that binds your soul to another.”

You let the words sink in, your fingers lingering a moment too long on her skin. Alice shivers slightly, caught off guard by your touch, her breath hitching. You enjoy the effect you’re having on her, the flush on her face making it all the more satisfying.

“So,” you ask teasingly, “do all you witches have a little family tradition of getting tattoos, or is that just an Alice thing?”

Alice laughs nervously, trying to hide her growing discomfort, but you can see the tension building. She’s trying so hard to stay in control, but you’re making it harder and harder to resist.

The rest of the coven continues chatting, but you remain focused on Alice, your body language making your intentions clear. You lean in closer, your touch deliberate, your words sweet but laced with something far less innocent.

You glance over at Agatha and Rio, seeing jealousy on both of their faces now. You knew flirting with someone else would get a rise out of them. Agatha’s eyes narrow, while Rio hides her irritation behind a smirk.

But Agatha’s had enough. She stands abruptly, her voice laced with fury. “Alright, pet,” she says, her tone unmistakably warning. “We need to have a word.”

You stand, cocking an eyebrow at her. “Oh, do we now? I’m not sure I’m in the mood for a ‘word.’”

Before you can protest further, Rio grabs your arm, pulling you away from the fire and into the shadows, out of the coven’s sight.

“I guess duty calls,” you tease, glancing back at the others as Rio pulls you further into the dark.

Once you’re out of sight, Agatha steps forward, her eyes smouldering with frustration. “You’ve been all over her since you got here,” she growls, her voice thick with something possessive. “Have you forgotten you belong to us?”

You pull back, laughing lightly. “Oh, really? You think I’m just going to roll over and—”

Before you can finish, Rio’s lips crash against yours—hard and demanding. Agatha follows suit, her kiss searing as she pulls you between them. The bond crackles to life around you, familiar and undeniable. Oh, how you’ve missed this.

You give in for a moment, allowing yourself to be swept up in the intensity. But then, with a mischievous smirk, you pull away. “As much as I’m enjoying this,” you say, breathless, “I’d rather be doing it with Alice.” You turn on your heel, leaving them standing in stunned silence. It was a lie, of course. Another taunt to see how far you can push them before they make you submit.

Agatha calls after you, fury and desire mixing in her voice. “You can’t just walk away from us.”

You roll your eyes, halting mid-step and turning to face them. “Oh, am I supposed to beg for your attention, Agatha? Like the good old days?”

Rio steps in, her playful side still evident as she pulls you closer. “We’re giving you the option to do it willing; we could just make you. You’re still our familiar, after all.”

pleasemakemepleasemakemepleasemakemepleasemakemepleasemakeme

You lean back, eyes glittering with defiance. "I’m not begging for anything from either of you." At least not yet. You turn and walk back to the fire.

As you sit, you flick your wrist, conjuring up a spread of food and drink. The coven watches in awe, unsure how to process your sudden display of magic.

You smirk, explaining with a sly grin, “Being a familiar means I can do things other witches can’t. Just a perk of the job.”

The coven, unsure whether to be impressed or confused, starts reaching for drinks and food, the alcohol loosening them up. Soon, laughter fills the air, and their earlier wariness is forgotten.

You continue to flirt with Alice, enjoying every blush you pull from her, knowing you’ll face the consequences later.

—

By the time the fire burns low and the coven is scattered around in various states of drunken stupor, you’re left with Agatha and Rio—both simmering with desire, their eyes locked on you.

"Okay, you’ve had your fun," Rio murmurs, voice thick with something darker. "But now, it’s our turn."

Agatha steps closer, her lips curling into a sly smirk as she tilts her head, eyes dark with challenge. "Still think you’re in control, pet?" she purrs, her voice low and full of authority. 

Before you can retort, Rio sidesteps you, her presence a heat against your back. Her fingers trail along your shoulders, her touch feather-light, but there’s no mistaking the strength behind it. Her voice, husky and teasing, whispers close to your ear. "Oh, love, you don’t seem to understand. This is our game, and you don’t get to change the rules."

You scoff, trying to summon some of that bravado from earlier.

But before you can say anything, Rio’s magic snaps into place. Vines, glowing faintly with her energy, erupt from the earth, curling around your ankles and locking you in place. You glance down, startled, but the roots are unyielding, pulsing with her power. You tug once, then twice, and realise you’re trapped.

Agatha moves to stand in front of you, her piercing gaze meeting yours. She doesn’t touch you, but the weight of her presence alone has your pulse quickening. "Not so bold now, are we?" she says, her tone mocking, but there’s an undeniable heat behind her words.

Rio leans against you from behind, her lips brushing the shell of your ear as her hands rest on your hips, holding you firmly. "Don’t worry," she murmurs, her voice almost soothing if not for the edge of danger. "We’ll remind you where you belong."

To your shock, they don’t focus on you. Instead, Agatha steps into Rio’s space, their lips meeting in a slow, deliberate kiss, filled with hunger and command. It’s magnetic, their power crackling in the air, and you feel your body react against your will, heat flooding to your core, and you squeeze your legs together.

"Enjoying the view?" Agatha asks, her voice dripping with amusement as she pulls back just enough to smirk at you.

While your time apart means they’ve lost the ability to peer into your mind, they can still pick up on your feelings, especially when they’re this strong.

You glare, trying to fight the growing heat pooling in your core, but your voice betrays you. "Is that all you’ve got?" you challenge, though your voice wavers slightly.

Rio chuckles, a rich, sultry sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "Still so defiant. Let’s see how long that lasts." With a small twitch of her finger, the vines force your legs apart, removing what little relief you had given yourself.

Agatha leans in again, her kiss with Rio deepening, more passionate now, as if daring you to watch, to feel your own irrelevance in the moment. You bite your lip, fighting the whimper, threatening to escape as you struggle against the vines keeping you rooted.

And then, Rio’s magic flares again. The roots tighten, pulling you slightly forward, locking you in place with perfect precision to watch them. Your arms tingle with the same sensation, her magic wrapping around your wrists as if sensing you might lash out.

Agatha glances back at you, her eyes alight with mischief. "What’s the matter, love? Jealous?" She tilts her head mockingly. "You didn’t seem to want our attention before, did you? Now you’re going to beg for it."

You feel a flush of frustration mixed with undeniable arousal. "I don’t beg," you snap, though the words lack conviction.

Rio arches an eyebrow, turning just enough to glance at you. "Oh, you will." Her voice is a promise, smooth and unrelenting. She leans back into Agatha, her hands trailing along the other witch’s waist, pulling her closer. Suddenly your legs feel cold and you look down to see your pants have vanished. There’s a vine snaking its way up your leg and between your thighs. It starts to stroke up and down your crotch, and you buck your hips trying to get more pressure. You thought you’d gained at least a scrap of dignity after all those years apart, yet here you are grinding down on a fucking plant, making it impossibly wet from your arousal, just because they’re making out in front of you.

Their kisses grow hungrier, more deliberate, and every movement feels calculated to remind you of your place. The tension in the air is suffocating, their bond radiating power and control. You watch as Agatha’s nails rake lightly down Rio’s back, eliciting a small gasp from the witch.

You tug harder at the magical restraints, a desperate sound bubbling in your throat despite your pride. Your body betrays you, heat pooling in every nerve as the intensity of their connection pulls at something deep within you.

Agatha turns to you again, her lips swollen from Rio’s kisses, her smirk sharper than ever. "Say it," she commands simply, her voice firm but not unkind.

You shake your head stubbornly, your pride warring with the growing need inside you. "Not a chance," you manage, though your voice is barely a whisper.

Rio chuckles again, her magic tightening the restraints around you just enough to keep you aware of how completely at their mercy you are. She presses a kiss to Agatha’s neck, murmuring something you can’t quite hear but feel in the air—a promise, a plan.

They turn to you together now, their combined presence overwhelming. Agatha steps closer, her hand reaching out to cup your chin, forcing you to meet her eyes. "You’re trembling," she observes, her tone teasing. Her fingers trail down your jaw, leaving a tingling heat in their wake. "You can end this, you know. All you have to do is beg."

You bite your lip, your pride a fragile shield against their dominance. "I don’t—"

Rio cuts you off, her magic surging, pulling you taut against the vines. "Try again," she says softly, but the threat in her tone is clear.

Agatha’s lips brush against your ear, her breath warm and sending shivers down your spine. "Say it, pet. Or maybe we’ll just leave you here to simmer while we enjoy each other properly."

The thought sends a sharp pang through you; the idea of being left out, of missing their touch, their power, their presence, is more unbearable than you want to admit. Your resolve crumbles just slightly, enough for your voice to tremble as you whisper, "Please..."

Agatha’s eyes light up, her smirk widening as she leans back to survey you. "Not good enough," she chides.

Rio steps in, her hands on your shoulders now, grounding you. "Louder, love," she purrs. "We want to hear it."

Your pride shatters under their combined weight, and you finally let the words tumble from your lips. "Please, Agatha... Rio... I—" You swallow hard, your voice cracking with a mixture of need and surrender. "I need you. Please."

Rio lets the magical restraints fall away, disappearing into the ground, and Agatha’s lips come crashing down on yours. The kiss is fierce, hungry—more than just a reclaiming, it's a possession. You feel your mark burn with desire, the familiar sting that always came with them, only this time it’s more intense, more urgent. They embrace you fully now, and you melt into the sensation, every inch of you on fire, every breath shared between the three of you.

Rio’s hands are everywhere, teasing, possessive, pulling you tighter against her. She presses you into Agatha’s chest, feeling the magic thrumming in your veins, making every part of you ache for more. Agatha’s fingers tangle in your hair, tilting your head back, allowing Rio to trail kisses down your throat, her teeth grazing your skin, setting your nerves ablaze. It’s overwhelming, all-consuming—your resistance dissolving entirely under their combined touch.

The moment Rio pushes a finger inside you, you feel your walls tighten immediately. A benefit of being their familiar was how easily they could make you cum; the downside was it also meant they were the only people who could make you cum, so in all your decades apart, you haven’t been able to climax even once. Talk about orgasm denial.

They can feel your desire, the way your body trembles in anticipation, and they’re more than happy to give you exactly what you need. Rio, her eyes burning with possessive hunger, inserts another finger, pressing her palm firmly against your clit. Her fingers flex, teasing, sending waves of heat through you as they start to move, driving you crazy with the slow, deliberate pressure. Every touch from her feels like an electrifying promise, like the world is collapsing into the space between you. You can barely focus, drowning in the sensation as she doesn’t stop, guiding you into a rhythm that has you gasping for more.

Meanwhile, Agatha is relentless. Her lips find yours again, but this time it’s different—her kiss is sharper, more urgent. She bites down on your bottom lip, hard enough to sting, but it’s the kind of pain you crave, the kind of roughness that always ignites something dark and hungry within you. You gasp, the sensation intensifying as she takes advantage of your breathless moment. Her teeth graze your lip one more time, a reminder that she holds the power in this dance.

Before you can process, she pushes her tongue into your mouth, deep and possessive. The kiss becomes an exploration, a claim, as Agatha takes what she wants, making sure you feel every movement, every shift of her body against yours. You kiss her back hungrily, matching her intensity, responding to the pull of her control. It’s familiar—this frantic need to give in, to let go, to surrender. And yet, it feels different this time—there’s no escape, no hesitation, only the heat of their presence enveloping you, pulling you further under their spell.

Your breath hitches as Rio shifts her focus, pressing harder into you, moving with purpose, her touch as commanding as Agatha’s kiss. It’s a beautiful chaos—the push and pull of their desire, the control they hold over you. You can’t tell where one touch ends and the other begins, everything blending together into one overwhelming sensation that leaves you gasping for air, for more.

"That's it," Agatha murmurs against your lips, her voice low and throaty. "You’ll always be ours, and ours alone."

The words sink deep, pushing you past the breaking point. You finally let go completely, surrendering to the tidal wave of sensation. Your entire body tenses, every nerve lit up with a white-hot intensity as you reach your peak. It’s as if time itself halts in reverence of the moment, and all you can feel is them—their hands, their lips, their presence anchoring you even as they unravel you. It’s overwhelming, raw, and impossible to contain. Your breath catches, breaking into a shuddering gasp as your orgasm consumes you, leaving you trembling in their hold.

The aftermath is a blur of warmth and relief, your body melting against theirs as the world slowly rights itself. Still high on the ecstasy of your climax, clarity seeps in through the haze. For the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself think about how much you’ve missed them—not just their touch, but them, the soul-deep connection that once defined your bond. The longing you’d buried, the emptiness you’d ignored, rushes to the surface, overwhelming in its magnitude.

Agatha’s voice cuts through the quiet, low and familiar, sending shivers down your spine. “We’ve missed you too.”

You blink, startled, because her lips haven’t moved. The realisation strikes you like a spark catching flame—they’re in your mind again. The bond has fully reignited, glowing brighter than ever, their thoughts brushing against yours like the softest caress.

A grin tugs at your lips, even as a lump forms in your throat. For so long, you’ve felt stretched too thin, as though your soul had grown just a little too large, leaving a space that nothing else could fill. You hadn’t realised just how incomplete you’d been until now, until this. With them.

For the first time in what feels like forever, the missing pieces are back in place. The weight of their presence settles over you, grounding and comforting, like the steady pulse of a heartbeat you’d forgotten you needed. You close your eyes and lean into them, basking in the completeness of it, a smile playing at your lips as the warmth of their bond wraps around you.

Rio chuckles softly, her fingers brushing through your hair. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. There’s no need to say anything. They already know, as deeply and completely as you do. Whatever comes next, you’re no longer alone—and that, more than anything, is what you’ve missed the most.

-----

I know you didn't ask for the soft finish but I'm an absolute sucker for a happy ending

[kupa-konstruct]

I can still remember their tiny faces as if I had just seen them yesterday, full of life and wonder as they chases eachother from from to room or begged me to shift from my human to dragon form indoors knowing full well that I wouldn't fit, much to their amusement.

It all felt like it just happened a few seconds ago, and yet-

"Housemaster Kirin."

The voice rips through my memories as those small faces turn cold and rigid, some full of scars as they all stand before me, my former children.

"Kaizer. Or judging from that armour...should I call you Sir Kaizer now?" I ask, my eyes gliding over all four of them, now as adventures as they stand at my doorstep, some of them looking conflicted while Kaizer looks almost enraged.

"That's none of your concern." He spits back, his hand already on hilt of his sword as he takes a step towards me. "We came for the children."

His words confuse me. The children?

"Why?" My voice grows cold as I stand my ground, wanting to know why or who would want to take these abandoned children away from their only home.

"Oh you already know why, the king told us everything." Kaizer spits out, his words laced with more anger.

I don't even have time to ask him what he means before he continues, "Did you take us too? Away from our families just so you could have your stupid hoard?"

His words feel like a dagger to the heart but now I understand what has been happening and all I can do is laugh a pathetic laugh.

Of few of the newer children peek their heads out to see what all the fuss was about and the oldest one approached me from behind, giving all of the adventures a disgusted look before I place a hand on her head.

"It's all right. Please take the others back inside, I'll be back in a moment." I reassure her.

She looks up at me with concern before glaring at Kaizer before disappearing behind me and shutting the orphanage door.

With quick and deliberate steps, I walk past Kaizer and the other, down the steps and towards the back of the building with them following quickly.

"What do you even plan to do now? Kill us because we weren't you're "perfect children" now that we see your true nature?" He asks.

I keep walking as his words hurt me again, letting out a small sigh as we reach the field at the back of the building.

"No. I shall do nothing of the sort." I say with a concerned sigh, "But if that disgrace of a king thinks he can defile our contract by lying to my children, filling their heads with nonsense then..."

The air ripples around me with anger and sorrow as my body begins to shift, my anger and grief coming to the forefront as my wings spread, my claws hit the ground and I let out an almost sorrowful and gutteral cry.

I look down at my former children, watching the fear in their eyes as they now see my full form for the first time as tears roll down my scales.

Small fragments of my memories flow through them as I force it into their minds, showing them just how they came to be at my orphanage and how their family either abandoned them or how their king tore apart their families with war before my voice echoes in their minds, bouncing around loudly in their skulls as they all try to take in all the information,

"Then you'll have to go through me, my dear children."

You're a dragon that's spent the last several centuries running an orphanage and today some of your former kids show up as adventurers.

[calliopesdiary]

i wish i were heather...

synopsis: you were under the impression that you were stable in your secret long-term relationship with three of the four marauders, until it becomes clear that you aren't the girl they want anymore. (so you think). will you lose them before its too late? or have you already?

pairings: fem!reader x poly!marauders ` poly!marauders x lily evans

warnings: NO LILY SLANDER!! SHE'S PERFECT AND BEAUTIFUL AND ITS NOT HER FAULT!!, cusswords, ANGST, depressing, a blip of reader skipping meals on the radar but it's srsly nothing crazy, insecure reader, the marauders besides peter are dicks, reader is a little naive, the marauders borderline cheat on you, no happy ending, there might still be one thoughhh, possibly slytherin!reader if you squint?,

part one in the conan gray series

A/N!!: In some of the fic i use colors to represent a certain character! Orange is Lily, Red is James, and Green is Barty :3

wc; 2.4k

LIFE WAS AMAZING, which is not usually how stories begin.

You felt so safe and secure in your secret relationship with Hogwarts' once most eligible bachelors... The Marauders.

The rush of excitement that coursed through your veins every time you shared a hidden glance with Remus, or hiding in the showers of the Gryffindor boys locker room with James after his quidditch victory, and sneaking off to empty classrooms where anyone from anywhere could catch you with Sirius.

It was heavenly, these boys were all you would ever need.

until... now.

You were in Remus' sweater, he said it looked better on you than it did him. If only he knew how much you liked him...

The fireplace erupted with a citrine glow, illuminating the Gryffindor common room beautifully.

Most impactfully, it lit up Remus' scar-kissed features.

His freckles looked as if they were painted onto his face with careful hands by a renaissance painter.

His eyes half-lidded from his lack of sleep from the incoming full moon that was slowly approaching, it pained you to know how much they hurt him.

For once, Remus wasn't in a sweater. Since his was rested comfortably on your body, as your scent comforted The Wolf greatly.

And his scent comforted you, too.

Remus' book had suddenly landed on your lap, and though it startled you a bit. You didn't bother to ask why, until you sat up.

Remus was locked in a passionate conversation with Gryffindor's resident golden girl, Lily Evans.

"Evans, it's lovely to see you."

"Same to you, Lupin."

Godric, was she beautiful.

"I just stopped by to see if you had gotten any of the Defence Against The Dark Arts homework done?"

Lily Evans was as radiant as an angel who blessed anyone with her presence.

"I have; actually, I just finished my paper."

Remus seemed mesmerized by her, the golden gleam from the fire painting her features gorgeously in that same citrine glow as Remus'.

"Could I have a look of it? Not to copy it- obviously, I just want to see how others are wording the question."

You weren't even half as pretty as Lily.

"Of course, and I know you'd never cheat."

"You're the smartest witch in our year."

You tried not to mind other girls flirting with your boys.

Just because you knew that later that night they'd be back to your boys again, and only yours.

As she was about to go, she planted a soft kiss on the side of Remus' cheek, leaving him blushing softly as he bid her goodbye.

Your heart clenched, it was merely a pleasantry. You were being dramatic.

"Are you alright, dove?" Your head perked up at the sound of Remus' voice.

"Hm? Yeah, I'm fine." You mused, albeit a bit absentmindedly.

"Are you tired?" He asked carefully.

"I am, actually..." You forced a sweet smile onto your lips, as he leaned down to kiss them softly.

That kiss was the last one that felt anything more than a chore, an obligation.

That was also your last kiss with Remus.

Cheering James on at the quidditch pitch was just the thrill you needed after that melancholy moment with Remus.

He soared through the field like he was on top of the world, the players scattered around the pitch for one common goal: to win.

Gryffindor had won the game with 60 points, and James had caught the snitch like usual.

This game was also a rain game.

Just as you were about to head down to showers when you spotted Lily excitedly trailing after James.

You knew full well that James chased Lily tirelessly since they started school, that was also well before you came into the picture.

You also knew that she wanted nothing to do with him or the other marauders, so what was with her infatuation now?

Why your boys? She couldn't find her own boys?

But maybe she was just being friendly, right? The boys would never ever cheat on you... right?

You heard Lily giggle as James so graciously held the curtain open for her to enter the locker room, and your heart clenched.

You followed them in, jealously.

"James?" You called, as James poked his head from the changing area. Sweat glistening off his abs.

"Hi, Y/N." He shut the curtain behind him, as if he had something to hide.

Also; he barely just called you by your first name.

"You didn't come to see me after the game?" You questioned, grazing his cheek gently as he spoke."

"Sorry, Y/N. It was a long one." He excused, as he clearly looked a bit flushed.

"You look red, are you dehydrated?"

"Godric, y/n. you are hardly my mum."

You giggled as if it was a joke, yet he seemed quite stone faced.

You cleared your throat embarrassingly once you realized.

"I... just wanted to congratulate you on another win." You forcefully smiled again.

"Thank you, I really appreciate that." Then, he flashed his classic grin at you.

The grin he hadn't flashed at you since he realized he genuinely liked you.

What the fuck?

"Victory kiss?" You asked quietly, with some false hope mixed in.

"Of course." He pecked your forehead quickly, before hurrying off back to his changing area.

And with that, you had also left the steamy tent and outside into the cool, soft rain once more.

A forehead kiss? whenever he used to give you victory kisses they'd be full-on make outs in that same changing room or the showers.

James was falling out of love with you, and you knew it.

Luckily, you could easily disguise your tears with the excuse of it raining.

"Victory kiss?" Lily mewled, from her position on the stool in his changing spot.

"Just on the forehead, lovely."

You stopped showing up to breakfast, as the one time you decided to go Lily was sat in your spot next to Sirius.

Dorcas was nearly at her wits end with the boys and their antics.

The motley crew of Slytherins were the only ones who knew of your relationship, and they were pissed off.

"Treasure, surely they aren't fucked enough to know that you are the best thing they've ever had!" Barty explained, laying upside-down on his bed across from you.

"I-It's no use, Jr." You cried softly, mirroring his position yet on your bed instead. The tears (and blood) rushing to your hairline instead of your face because Dorcas said 'Your makeup is too pretty to ruin, love.' .

"There is a use, Y/L/N. we'll kill them-"

"Jr, absolutely not." Regulus chided, rubbing your shoulder. "She's clearly upset, I don't see the issue."

"Murder is never a good option, Barty." Dorcas scolded gently.

"So what are we gonna do then? My Treasure can't go on like this!"

"You said you've already talked to James and Remus? Maybe you can go talk to... eh... Sirius." Clearly, that name was hard for Regulus to get out.

"*Sniff* yeah, yeah- I'll go talk to him..." You sat up half-hazardously, and strutted out of the dorm-room to go (hopefully) save your relationship.

You still remember the third of December.

Sirius lounged on the couch while speaking with the other marauders, about some sort of prank on the other group of Slytherins.

"And then, we'll-"

"Hi, Siri." You sat next to him, beaming up at him (hopefully).

"...y/n." He greeted casually, before continuing to talk.

Your smile faded, as he continued to talk to your other boyfriends friends about this horrible prank.

Instead of leaving, you sat quietly next to them, as if you were some decoration or trophy wife.

This was truly your breaking point, as you saw Lily sit down on the couches of the common room as she caught all of their attention, you hadn't seemed to do that for ages. Though, she was wearing something familiar...

Remus'... sweater...

Remus'- YOUR Remus' sweater.

"How's it look?" Lily asked, giving them a twirl. Their eyes locked on her.

"Gorgeous, doll." Sirius flirted, shooting her a wink.

"Truly a sight for sore eyes." James grinned.

"It looks better on you than it did me." Remus took her hand and helped her sit down on the couch in between him and James.

That's exactly what he said to you...

He put his arm 'round her shoulder,

suddenly you got colder.

She's got them mesmerized... while you die.

But how could you hate her?

She's such an angel...

But then again you wished she were dead.

"Why would you ever kiss me?" You asked impulsively.

"What?" James looked up from Lily, all eyes on you.

"I mean- I'm not even half as pretty."

"Y/n, You're overthinking it-" Remus started it.

"You gave her your sweater!" You shot back.

"It's just polyester!" Remus defended.

"But you like her better." You felt the tears rush to your waterline.

"We're done." You whispered, leaving Lily looking so confused and the common room dead quiet.

"What does she mean by that...?" Lily seemed horrified.

"We... weren't really dating.." Sirius attempted to defend.

"Yes, we were, you tosser!" James shoved him.

"You said yourself that you were bored of her!" Remus stated matter-of-factly.

"Was I seriously the other woman?" Lily mewled, her hands clutching the sides of her head.

"Nonono- No, we were planning to break up with her but- because we all wanted you-" Sirius tried again.

"Then don't fuck around with her feelings just to get me!" Lily yelled, standing up quickly.

"I appreciate the admiration- but I need time to process, okay? You all were absolute... arseholes to her, I'll admit." Lily started,

"Are you saying no?" James quickly cut in.

"...No..." Lily ended.

After crying your eyes out to Barty and Regulus over your breakup, December 7th rolled around.

The day that students were meant to be studying for their OWLS and other end of term exams.

You would usually be in the library 24/7.

Lily, had finally come around and accepted the boys' proposal, and their relationship became public quickly.

Lily obviously still felt this bitter taste of guilt in her mouth, as did all of them.

So today, Lily had convinced them all to apologize to you for borderline cheating and lying and manipulating and gaslighting-.

But, you were nowhere to be found.

"Regulus! Regulus, wait up!" Lily ran through the hallways to get to her.

"Evans, Brother.. Potter... and Lupin.." She said those last three names with utter disgust.

"We're trying to find Y/n, have you seen her?" Remus asked quietly, he was definitely feeling the most guilt.

"Y/n? Well, If she was here, I think she'd completely refuse to see you lot." Regulus explained bluntly.

"W-What do you mean "If she was here"?" James questioned.

"I mean, Her, Junior., and the Rosier twins completed their OWLS early and hightailed it to Junior's holiday house for the rest of the break." He explained casually.

"What?" Sirius scowled.

"What the hell is my girl-... Y/n doing with them?" James had the same expression as Sirius.

"They are simply better friends then you were to her, hm? I don't blame her."

"When will she be back?" Lily asked breathlessly.

"End of December, If she ever returns." Regulus strolled away, potions book in hand.

"...We fucked up."

Fin.

[savi0rr]

Darling Wife .ᐟ

Viktor x Fem! Reader

In which, Viktor has a sweet wife that, weirdly enough, no one really knew about.

a/n: hi divas! Erm this is my first time writing for Viktor so I'm sorry if he sounds out of character.

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"Viktor? What is that on your finger?" Jayce inquired, suddenly appearing behind Viktor and peering curiously over his shoulder. Viktor felt a knot form in his stomach as he glanced down at his hand, where a gleaming wedding band rested snugly on his finger. He cursed under his breath, realizing he had meant to remove it but had completely forgotten in the whirlwind of his work.

"Just a ring," Viktor replied evasively, casting a quick look back at Jayce while clicking his tongue in annoyance. Jayce, however, was undeterred. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest, a teasing smirk forming on his lips. "Isn’t that the same finger where wedding rings typically go?" he challenged, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. "Don’t tell me you actually have a wife?"

Viktor maintained his silence, his heart racing in response to Jayce’s playful interrogation. "Even if I did, I wouldn't share that information with you," he said tersely, redirecting his attention back to the Hextech gemstone in front of him, his mind racing as he tried to refocus on his work.

Jayce, still leaning casually against the desk, raised his eyebrow further, the smirk on his face beginning to fade away. He studied Viktor’s expression closely, a frown of confusion.

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“Viktor has a wife? That’s just absurd,” Mel declared, waving her hand dismissively as if to brush away the very notion. 

“No, I swear! He’s actually wearing a wedding ring. When I asked him about it, he responded with, ‘Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you,’” Jayce insisted, leaning closer to Mel's desk, his hands planted firmly on the surface.

Mel rolled her eyes in disbelief, leaning back in her chair and letting her hands fall into her lap. “Who on Earth would marry Viktor?” she whispered, her curiosity piqued as she leaned forward slightly, her expression a mix of intrigue and skepticism. “No offense, but…” she trailed off, momentarily glancing away, her thoughts clearly racing.

Jayce sighed, exasperated. “I mean, it’s not the best image, is it?” he muttered, shrugging as he contemplated the idea. His mind seemed to wander as he contemplated the strange pairing. “Plus, why do you even care?” Mel asked, raising an eyebrow at him, a hint of playful challenge in her voice. “Because I want to know what she looks like!” he responded with a hint of frustration, glancing off to the side, and groaning.

Mel pondered for a moment, her brow furrowing. “Even if he did have a wife, wouldn’t she be here at the Academia with him?” she pointed out, her curiosity beginning to overshadow her previous skepticism. “That’s exactly what I’m saying!” Jayce exclaimed, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. “It doesn’t add up!”

With a sigh, Mel straightened up, her expression turning serious. “Look, I have much bigger problems to deal with than figuring out who Viktor is married to,” she stated firmly.

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"When do you think he sees his wife?" Mel asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she peeked around the corner of the dimly lit hallway. The soft glow of fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting shadows on the walls of the Academia. Jayce followed her gaze, cautiously poking his head out to get a better look.

"Hmm... maybe when he isn’t buried under a mountain of work," Jayce mused, tilting his head and furrowing his brow in thought. His dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, and he swept it back with a casual motion. Mel, with an exasperated huff, rolled her eyes dramatically. 

"You should know this! You’re his partner, for crying out loud," she murmured, her tone tinged with disbelief as she crossed her arms. Jayce's expression shifted to one of sheepishness, his cheeks flushing slightly as he glanced away, avoiding her accusatory gaze.

"But I leave before him. I'm already gone by the time he usually starts his day. And when I come back to the lab, it’s always just him—working away, lost in his experiments," Jayce replied, his shoulders lifting in a shrug that conveyed both confusion and resignation. He could sense Mel's frustration, but the truth was, Viktor’s work schedule was a puzzle he had yet to solve.

Mel sighed heavily, her brow knitting together in thought. "How do you not know… never mind," she grumbled, her voice trailing off as she turned her attention back to Viktor, who was at that moment preparing to leave. 

"Shhh!" Jayce hissed urgently, his eyes widening as he quickly placed a hand over Mel's mouth, the sound echoing loudly in the stillness. They both watched in silence as Viktor slowly began to rise, gripping his crutch tightly under his arm while gathering his belongings with meticulous care. He seemed unaware of the two pairs of eyes on him, lost in his own world.

Viktor gripped his documents as he walked down the hallway, his eyes narrowed. He made his way down to the back of the Academia, opening a door. Jayce and Mel looking out the window from the other story. "The hell is he doing?" Jayce muttered under his breath. "Look," Mel said, spotting you not too far in the distance. "Is that his wife?" Jayce whispered.

"Viktor." You spoke up, smiling when you saw him. You stood up from the bench you were sitting at. Viktor eagerly wobbled over to you. "I've been waiting." You teased lightly, taking the documents from his hand and placing them down on the bench. Viktor could only stare at you. He hadn't seen you in a while. But he'd never say that he missed you. "How are you doing?" You asked gently, guiding him to sit down, placing his crutch aside. "I've been...well," Viktor said plainly. "I could be better." He muttered, glancing off to the side. You nodded, sitting beside him. You glanced down at his hand, raising an eyebrow. "You wore your wedding ring?" You asked, a small smile forming on your face. Viktor's cheeks warmed a bit, sighing. "I meant to take it off." He grumbled as his fingers ran over the wedding band. "I'm glad you wore it. It suits you." You giggled lightly, placing your hand over his.

Meanwhile, with Jayce and Mel, they could only stare in shock. "Of course, he has a pretty wife too!" Jayce groaned as he shook his head. "Of course," Mel muttered as she sweat drops. "Who knew she was so darling?"

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[faithshouseofchaos]

Franco x driver reader- She is a rookie who started before him and the others on the grid are protective of her since she has no one with her (her family never goes to see her or supports her). They start talking and the other drivers act like older brothers.

A/n— Hi 👋 @alex-wotton I went with the last one because it really stood out to me because I realized last night that if I was a f1 driver traveling to races would be pretty lonely as my mom has lupus and is in pain all the time and my siblings are still in school while my dad works out on the road. I will also be doing the others to.

Oh one more thing this is just a little look into the big fic around this request I’ll be doing later… depending on how well this does.

"They mean well" — Franco Colapinto x fem! rookie diver! Reader

Fluff slightly angsty

Word count—1122

Summary — Franco befriend's the female Alpine rookie the only problem is that he now has to deal with her guard dogs.

The first few weeks on the grid were a whirlwind, especially since you were a rookie in a sport where every second counts, and every move you make is scrutinized. It was hard, almost overwhelming, and though you knew the other drivers were competitive, you quickly realized that there was a quieter, more supportive side to them. You couldn’t deny how much it helped to have the older drivers looking out for you.

Lando had taken to teasing you right away. His cheeky humor and constant lighthearted comments were always enough to make you laugh, even on the toughest days. “You’re doing better than most of the vets, you know,” he’d say after a particularly good lap, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Next time, you’ll have to give me some pointers!”

Max, who often seemed aloof to others, was surprisingly attentive. He noticed when you were on your own, after long days when you would simply wander the paddock, minding your own business. Without a word, he would sidle up next to you, hands shoved deep into his pockets, and talk about the most mundane things—anything to take your mind off the pressure. “Have you ever tried the coffee from the new stand near the paddock? Best one in town,” he’d comment, knowing full well it was an excuse to pull you into a conversation that wasn’t about racing for once.

Charles, ever the older brother type, was the one who would make sure you didn’t slip into your head too much. He could tell when the weight of everything was starting to build up on your shoulders. “Hey,” he’d say, voice gentle but firm. “You’re doing fine. Don’t let the stress get to you. You have a team behind you.”

And then there was Franco. He was quieter than the others, but his presence was undeniable. He’d only just joined the grid, and the others were quick to embrace him, but it was clear that his personality was different—calmer, more reserved. You found that, over time, you felt a quiet connection with him. It wasn’t an in-your-face, loud support, but a steady, reassuring presence.

One evening, after another intense qualifying session, you found yourself walking alone by the garages, replaying every corner of the track in your head. You were exhausted, physically and mentally, but you didn’t want to be a burden to the others, so you walked it off in silence. Franco noticed you from across the paddock and, with a knowing look, excused himself from a conversation he was having with Lando.

When he reached you, there was no fanfare, just a casual ease that made you relax almost immediately.

“Hey, everything okay?” Franco asked, his voice soft yet direct.

You smiled, a little weary, but grateful. “Just thinking about the session. Could’ve done better.”

He shook his head, his lips curling into a small smile. “You did fine. We all have those moments, don’t overthink it.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “It’s just… hard sometimes. Being the rookie and feeling like you’re always falling short.”

Franco tilted his head slightly, studying you for a moment before replying. “I get it. I’m still the new guy here too, remember? But honestly, the others are looking out for you. They’ve got your back.”

The way he said it was simple, but there was a sincerity behind it that made something inside you relax. Franco wasn’t offering empty words—he meant it.

And it wasn’t just him. The next time you walked into the paddock and bumped into Max, he clapped you on the shoulder with a grin. “You looked a bit off yesterday. If you need a break, you know where to find me.”

Lando, catching wind of the exchange, chimed in from a few feet away. “Yeah, don’t make us have to drag you into our fun. We’re here for more than just the racing.”

The protectiveness came in waves. Sometimes it was subtle—Charles, pulling you aside to offer advice on staying focused during the race, or Lando, joking around to make you laugh when the stress of the weekend was beginning to get to you. But sometimes, it was a little more overt.

The first time you really felt the weight of their protectiveness was after a particularly tough race, where you finished outside the points. The media was relentless, questions flying about whether you were cut out for the sport, and you could feel the eyes of the paddock on you.

As you were heading back to your garage, head down, trying to shut out the noise, you suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder. It was Max.

“You don’t let them get to you,” he said quietly, looking you in the eyes. “It’s one race. And you’ll get them next time.”

Before you could respond, Lando appeared, his usual grin plastered across his face. “Max is right, of course. And if they keep giving you trouble, just let me know. I’m pretty good at handling the media.”

Charles joined them, his voice more serious than usual. “We’ve all been there. Don’t let them make you doubt yourself. We’re all in this together.”

That was when it hit you—this wasn’t just about the competition on the track. They truly cared about you, and despite the pressures of racing, they weren’t about to let you face it alone.

Franco appeared just as they were finishing up, walking over to the group with a quiet smile. “Everyone’s right,” he added, offering a knowing look. “And if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m always around. No need to fight your battles alone.”

From that moment on, you felt the weight of their protectiveness more than ever. It wasn’t just about them looking out for a rookie; it was about them making sure you knew that no matter what happened, you weren’t alone on the grid.

The bond between you and Franco deepened as the weeks went on. In between races, the two of you shared quiet conversations in the back of the garage, or while waiting for your cars to be prepped. You spoke about everything—racing, family, the weird quirks of the Formula 1 lifestyle, and even the things you’d been avoiding thinking about. Franco’s steady support and dry humor became something you could rely on, and the way he listened without judgment made him one of the few you truly felt comfortable with.

In a world that often felt like a competition to survive, you finally understood: you had people here, and they weren’t just teammates or rivals—they were your family.

And Franco, despite being new to the grid himself, was starting to feel more like a brother than just a teammate.

[russo-woso]

Experimenting || Leah Williamson x reader

Based on this request here.

Warning smut 18+, cunnilingus, fingering

Summary You and Leah are both curious, what happens when friendship and curiosity mixes?

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“I’m glad you made me come out tonight, thank you.” You shouted to your best friend, leah, over the music.

“It’s my job to make you come out, we both know that.” Leah winked, sending a playful smirk.

Leah was right, you were always the shy one, the one that hated nights out but Leah was the one that knew you secretly had lots of fun when you did, hence why it was her job to get you out.

Leah especially knew you needed to get out tonight. You’d just broken up with your boyfriend.

“Have I taken your mind off him?” Leah said, her voice full of anger as she said the final word.

“Definitely.” You smiled, before taking a breath. You didn’t know wether it was the alcohol or just the thought of how good Leah looked but you decided to tell her the real reason why you broke up, having slightly changed the story around when you told her. “Le, I never broke up with Alex because of the argument. He broke up with me because he thought I loved you, in a way more than friends. And now, I’m wondering if that’s true or not. I don’t know how I feel. I’m so so confused. I like you I think, more than a friend, but I don’t know if I’m…”

“Kiss me.” Leah cut you off, a smug look on her face. “Kiss me. I’m in the same situation. If we try it on each other, we’ll get our answers.”

Leah had a really good point. What’s the harm of kissing your best friend? It’s not like you’ll end up sleeping together. It’s just a kiss.

It’s not like you’ll end up sleeping together

That was your exact thought but boy, were you wrong.

It certainly didn’t look that way when Leah had you pushed against the bathroom counter of the club just ten minutes after the original thought.

Your lips hadn’t left each other, the two of you experimenting with what the two of you liked.

“Le…” you panted as she dropped to her knees in front of you.

Leah unbuttoned your jeans, pulling them down your legs to reveal your panties.

“Are you sure you want this?” Leah asked, looking back up at you.

“Yes.” You said, nodding your head desperately.

Leah pushed your panties to the side, her tongue diving in.

She licked at your clit before tongue fucking your pussy.

You gripped the basin, your eyes screwed shut.

You looked down to see Leah’s hand gripping your thigh, the veins in her arms popping out, her biceps flexing.

You moaned at the sight, the pleasure coursing through you playing a major factor.

“Fuck Leah.” You moaned, feeling Leah messily eat you out.

“Taste so good, baby.” Leah mumbled, the vibrations causing your legs to shake.

Leah sucked at your clit as she brought her fingers up to your folds.

She started trusting her fingers in and out at a steady pace, adding to the pleasure.

With Leah fingering you and eating you out, you were so close.

“Le, ‘m gonna cum. Please done stop — oh god — I’m coming!”

Your pussy tightened around Leah’s fingers as you came, your legs squeezing around Leah’s head.

She let you ride out your orgasm before standing back up, bringing you in for a heated kiss.

You moaned into the kiss, tasting yourself of her tongue.

“Wow. I wasn’t expecting that to happen tonight.” You said, looking at Leah who nodded with a smile.

“Neither did I, but I’m glad it happened.”

“Me too.” You agreed

“Let me take you on a date this weekend, please.”

“I’d love to.”

[ego13]

꒰ 𝐝𝐞 ' 𝟕𝟎'𝑠 かん C𝑶ME HERE BABY D𝑶LL – YU JIMIN X FEM!READER | 𝟏𝟐r͠r ৎׅ

彡ׁ ₊ https://now_playing: Ari Abdul - BABYDOLL

꒰ ˖࣪ ᳝ https://synopsis: after a few months of dating, you and your girlfriend decided to take it to the next level, and so she decided to teach you something that you didn’t even know about before.

Ꮺ ָ࣪ ۰ https://warnings: lesbian sex, first time, slow sex, fingering, scissoring, dirty talk, body worship, sexual inexperience, awkwardness, prelude, first kiss, nipple sucking, innocence kink, praise kink, pet names.

Ꮺ pairing: yu jimin x reader (that was supposed to be fic with wonyoung, but I changed my mind at the last moment)

⩩ • ₊°꒰ https://word_count: 1,8k

you and jimin had been in a relationship for a few months now, and in fact, your mutual friends clearly weren’t able to understand how fate had managed to bring you both together, after all, you were the complete opposite of her, a quiet and shy good girl of your parents and she, a person who appears at school once a month and does not even know what it means to be embarrassed.

in fact, this never bothered you, the most important thing was that there was comfort and understanding in the relationship, and the rest was not important. constant walks, gifts, tender words and warm evenings in each other’s company were what brightened up every minute of your life, and the only thing you always asked for was that this moment would never end.

next to her you felt like the happiest and most beloved girl in this world, because yu spent all her free time with you, the way she looked at you like a lost puppy when you tried to explain to her yet another physics topic that she couldn’t understand, because she missed class for the thousandth time, the way she let you climb on her lap, watching with anticipation as you tried out another makeup look on her and the way she always wrapped her arms around your waist from behind, every time you cooked something for both of you, because she doesn’t know how to cook, always warmed your heart.

karina was definitely that type of loving girl who never missed an opportunity to give you another compliment or pick another flower for you on the street, which you will definitely put in the small vase she gifted you on your table or flood you with messages from the very morning, when you leave for college, calling you silly, because what adequate person would come to the first lesson?

over time, you began to notice how her look at you changed, became more desirable and hungry, it’s obvious that you were a little scared by this, but soon, on the contrary, you began to like to catch such glances on yourself, and she clearly didn't mind giving it to you, and one evening, you always decided to let her go further than usual.

she sits you, who was unresisting on the dismantled bed and firmly takes her soft palms in hers, making you look at her, "are you afraid, sweetheart?" you nodded shyly, lowering your gaze, but her finger rested on your chin, not allowing you to lower your head, "everything will be fine, I promise, I won’t hurt you, cat..."

your eyelashes begin to flutter from her low begging voice. your hands tremble, held by jimin's tenacious fingers, and your cheeks are scorched with renewed vigor by a treacherous heat. your shamefully become moist and rest woundedly on her serious face. her eyes shamelessly drop under the thin fabric of your t-shirt, two small roundnesses and the outlines of hardened nipples are visible, wonyoung swallows loudly and wets her dry lips with her tongue.

your heart begins to beat feverishly, and cheeks tingle painfully from suffocating excitement and shame, you feel the warmth of her breath settling on your face. you fidgets in place and shyly fiddles with the bottom of t-shirt in damp fingers, yu's gaze penetrates you to your very core, making involuntarily tense and bring your trembling hips together, "let's take this off?" smiling, she slowly lifted your t-shirt up, carefully putting it aside, returning her hungry gaze to your bare chest, licking her lips, she crawls on her knees to you closer, and now you cannot even raise your eyes to her.

"baby doll, you're fucking beautiful, you know it?" in one sharp movement she grabs you by the waist, pulling you towards her, yu lowers her gaze to your beautiful full lips and the vein on her neck begins to pulsate even faster. she presses her chest against your, larger and more voluminous, and feels how your heart pounding, realizing that she is not the only one who is so worried about their closeness and is languishing with anticipation.

"I want to taste them, can I?" karina's eyes sparkle with anticipation when she inquisitively looks into your ruddy face and freezes in anticipation, "yes", you whispers, eagerly peering into the desired eyes full of embarrassment and confusion. smiling, she leaned lower, leaving a trail of kisses on the hollow between your breasts, before hesitantly touching your nipple with his tongue, carefully listening to your reaction, afraid of hurting you.

you really want to see what yu does with you, but as soon as she opens her eyes and opens her eyelashes, she falls into the trap of a mouth that is predatorily stretched around her nipple, darkened by the flow of blood. confidently lifting the squeaking you by your large hips, the girl carefully sits you on top of herself and continues to take turns tormenting your aching hard peas with her teeth and tugging with her tongue.

"my girl, you're beautiful, fuck, I can't get enough of you," jimin coos and, with a guttural hum, again dives her tongue into the cozy hollow between two soft roundness, she impulsively crushes it with her greedy fingers, licking the drops of sweat flowing down to your stomach. again opens her plump lips and sucks the sensitive lump of flesh deep inside her mouth, she noisily swallows viscous saliva and with pleasure sniffs through her nostrils the spicy and musky smell of natural lubricant emanating from the body writhing on her.

she unsticks herself with a loud smack from your chest and smearedly kisses your chin, "fuck, I'm going to go crazy soon, and you'll be the reason for it, baby doll..." you whisper her name in alarm and continue to move fussily and fidget on her hot thigh, while she watched with a grin how needy you were. she kisses your neck in the place where the elastic vein beats desperately. you barely noticeably shudders from this action, without stopping weakly crawling on her strong thigh.

she looks at you from below and pulls your shorts down to your shaking knees, trying to catch your wandering gaze on herself, you whines pitifully, and spreads your legs, allowing her hand to slide under your underwear, "relax for me, cat, i got you," she said as she slid inside you, pushing deeper, but you reluctantly lets even one finger into you and she immediately stops, peering carefully into your sweaty, tense face, "hurt?"

you just nodded, hiding your face in the crook of her neck, "I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't think you were so tight..." jimin kisses your rosy cheek soothingly and circles your sensitive clit with her thumb, you squeal quietly from the persistent and unexpected stimulation, that was clearly for trying to make you relax, only because of it you shudders convulsively, squeezing and whining.

she begins to slowly and gently stroke the wet, contracting walls from the inside, kneading and feeling them. so tight at the same time that she can go crazy, with her lips she barely touches the sweaty neck, feeling her own hot breath and the spicy smell of skin, you continued to breathe languidly, trying to get used to the new sensations that yu helped you experience, your eyes are tightly closed, and your mouth is slightly open. you clings to the girl's neck and pushes towards her hand, raising you hips, "fuck, yes..." she smiled hearing your words, "yes?"

you hum in agreement and whimper barely audibly, beginning to more freely accept her thrusts, she examines your ruddy face with trepidation, carefully pushing the tip of her second finger into the tight hole, speeds up the movements of her hand, simultaneously pressing her groin into your thigh, because she no longer has the strength to endure all this, she also wants you to touch her, so fucking much, "I love the way you squeeze on my fingers, baby doll."

after her shameless statement, you subtly sobs, gently squeezing her fingers, and carefully kisses her on the lips, trustingly closing your eyelids, then opening your eyes wide and feeling the orgasm approaching, your hand patted her shoulder in warning, signaling that you were damn close to your end.

"cum, right now," at the same moment you finished with a loud whine, squeezing her neck in your arms, whining as you tried to regain your ragged breathing. at the same moment she pulled you into a deep kiss, wrapping her arms around your waist, allowing you to sit more comfortably on her lap.

laying you on your back on a snow-white sheet, her hand slid between your legs again, and you can’t hold back your moans, when a girl does especially good to you, but somewhere you doesn’t react at all, and at some moments, when jang rises to the clit and begins to actively massage it, your toes curl, “fuck, you’re so wet, i’ll definitely have to change the bed linen after you, I think I can wring out the sheet."

you begin to rush around the bed and howl quietly, begging her to stop. you clearly cannot stand such frank caresses, while karina goes lower, kissing your stomach, hearing your words, she sighed slightly disappointed, but she rises higher on weakened arms, looking into such a touching and fucked face, your entire chin is stained with your own saliva, your small breasts are pink, covered with light sweat and your hair is disheveled, "If you're still up and running, cat, there's one more thing I want to do..."

your gaze became questioning, hearing these words from her lips, "ride me properly?" she lies down on the bed and spreads her legs invitingly, bending them at the knees, while you saddle the substituted leg to slide straight to her hot crotch, and within a moment, your open and wet folds are pressed into her folds, clinging together with a squelch, "fuck, baby doll..."

she covers her mouth with trembling hands, and she does not take her excited gaze off the place where your hips collide with a loud slapshe covers her mouth with trembling hands, and the girl does not take her excited gaze off the place where your hips collide with a loud squelch, "so good, jimin-ssi..." You answered greedily, furiously rubbing your groin against her, catching her clumsy thrusts and half-stifled sobs.

she still looks, without looking away, to where your flesh is so closely connected and digs her fingers into your palms. it’s only enough for a twitchy nod, continuing to breathe intermittently, because to hear those sounds that you both create, to see your hot face when you're on her is fucking too good.

you place your palms on her stomach and throw your head back. your hair sticks to crimson cheeks, lips are dry, and you are both quite tense and focused on the thrusts, because relief comes to you both quickly and almost simultaneously. you both let out a loud moan before you dropped your head onto her chest, feeling the way her fingers wove into your sweat-damp hair, "I love you so fucking much," and all you could do was laugh contentedly, after which you finally closed your eyes in relief, relaxing.

[notlongtolove]

in eternal lines

spencer’s mind—brilliant and boundless—was one of the reasons you fell for him in the first place. but when the deadlines are looming, it takes everything in you not to snap. because while you’re good at literature because you have to be, spencer's great at it because, well, he’s spencer. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: angst, comfort, fluff... i don't know anymore

content: student!reader gets kinda pissy and snappy but she has a 3000 word essay due and a fever so go easy on her. and spencer is spencer, so patient, so kind :'

word count: 5.2k

note: as a literature major this was extremely self-indulgent... i'm sorry. i love lit student reader and i hope you guys do too! also aptly titled after the one and only sonnet 18 because it was the first poem we were given read in uni <3 (reader is basing her essay on george macdonald's 'the princess and the goblin' and isaac watts' 'divine songs' if anyone is curious; but don't read too deeply into her lines about it because i submitted that essay weeks ago and it's been relinquished it from my mind oops)

a line: You’d decided then and there that if you couldn't break the glass ceiling, you'd make a comfortable home just beneath it. Always looking up, never quite breaking through.

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. - william shakespeare

You love your boyfriend. Truly, you do. After all, who else would sift through pages of Whitman’s dense poetry with you or debate whether Rossetti was really referencing Eve’s bite of the apple in Goblin Market? Nobody else ever cared enough to try. Spencer’s mind—brilliant and boundless—was one of the reasons you fell for him in the first place.

So yes, you love your boyfriend. But when deadlines are looming, and submission dates are bearing down on you, it takes everything in you not to snap. Because while Spencer can dissect poetry and prose with an ease that seems almost otherworldly, you sometimes feel the weight of comparison pressing on you. You’re good at it too—of course you are, you have to be. You’re pursuing a degree in it forgodsakes. But Spencer? He’s great at it because, well, he’s Spencer.

And while you can hold your own most days, a fair challenger when you come back from a particularly intriguing lecture too layered to dissect by yourself, there are times you feel like you’re running to keep up. Spencer will pull references from texts and obscure sources you haven’t even heard of, leaving you struggling to connect the dots. And that’s just literature. When he dives into his other passions—you don’t even bother to compete. Instead, you resign yourself to the couch, nodding and asking questions during the rare moments you can sort of follow the thread of his thoughts.

Having an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory does have its perks. Everyone knows that.

Your friends see it too. Like today when one of them stopped by between classes to return an essay you’d been stressing over for days.

“Well, don’t you look fantastic,” she teased, smirking. “Guessing those leftovers weren’t as ‘fine’ as you thought?”

​​“Don’t even start,” you mutter, weakly grabbing the paper from her hands as you lean on the doorframe. You flip through the pages marked in red ink quickly with the little strength you have, eyes scanning briefly through the comments before you’re on to the next page, next page, next page. They’re not what you’re looking for. 

And then you see it. There on the last page, a definite red circle around it: B+. 

You’d expected it of course. B+—your ever-reliable benchmark. It's a mark of consistency you've been forced to be contented with. It wasn’t horrendous. It wasn’t amazing. It was fine. But you’d worked hard on this one. You’d hoped, maybe, for something more. You’d expected it, and yet, you don’t know why you still feel a pinch of disappointment.

“How’d you do?” you ask grimly, fighting the nausea creeping up your throat.

“Same,” she replies nonchalantly, scrolling through her phone.

You nod, trying not to dwell on the fact that she’d seen your grade before you did.

“Oh, you know it’s always the same,” she adds with a wry smile. “Solidly subpar, as per tradition.” 

The phrase stung a little more now than it had when you’d coined it back in your first year. Back when, after a string of middle-of-the-road grades, you’d decided then and there that if you couldn't break the glass ceiling, you'd make a comfortable home just beneath it. Always looking up, never quite breaking through. 

“Whatever, it was only 20% anyway,” she shrugs.

“Yeah…” you reply weakly, though the disappointment still gnaws at you. You can’t quite shake it. Maybe it’s because deep down, you know you do care—no matter how often you tell yourself you’ve accepted the fate of being perpetually average. You still want, so quietly, so desperately, to be something more. You’ve always had a love for literature: the way words flow across a page, imbuing meaning into simple phrases, transforming them into art. You’ve always admired the beauty of it. But passion doesn’t translate to academic brilliance, and appreciation doesn’t equal A grades. It’s a hard truth you’ve come to learn.

“How was class?” you ask, trying to steer your mind away from its current spiral. “We still on Faerie Queene?”

“Mhmm,” she hums, rolling her eyes. “Kristoff’s still rambling on and on about virtue and chastity. Ha. Imagine me living in those times—at the rate I ghost men, I’d be a certified whore.”

“Well, actually, they’d probably get to you first,” Spencer interrupts as he steps out of the bedroom, his tone slipping into that familiar, matter-of-fact cadence. “Virtue and chastity were considered to be absolute truths in the 16th century. A woman’s value was intrinsically tied to her perceived purity, which of course, was a reflection of her family’s honor.” 

If you weren’t so ill, you would’ve laughed at her face—eyes wide, mouth slightly open in disbelief.

“And then there’s the public shaming,” he continues, leaning casually against the doorframe with his hands tucked into his pockets already miles deep into his thoughts. “In fact, the entire allegory of Book III revolves around chastity as a cornerstone of moral virtue. Witch trials in the late 16th and 17th centuries often targeted women who were thought as sexually deviant or independent, framing their ‘sins’ as some sort of evidence that they were consorting with the devil—”

He pauses, glancing between you and your friend. “So yeah… considering all that, if you’d ‘ghosted’ a few men back then, they probably would’ve gone straight to accusations of witchcraft or worse.”

Your friend stares at him, “...Right. Good to know,” she says, blinking slowly.

“But you know, Edmund Spenser intended The Faerie Queene to be a moral guide for young men,” he adds as an afterthought, realizing he’s just indirectly affirmed your friend’s self-deprecating joke. Spencer shifts awkwardly but can’t help himself by continuing, “It was meant to instil chivalric virtues to shape a model English gentleman. So technically, your interpretation is, um, modern at best.”

Her expression—equal parts baffled, impressed, maybe even a little scared—almost makes you forget how sick you feel.

“So…” she says after a pause, “I’m guessing you’re Spencer?”

“I am,” he replies simply.

“Well,” she says, drawing the word out, “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.” 

Spencer offers a smile, “Likewise.” 

“Anyway… I’m off.” She slings her bag over her shoulder, “Essay’s not gonna write itself. This one’s 30% by the way. God, I hate Kristoff but Burton’s a close second for sure.”

You wince at the reminder, the weight of your unfinished work pressing on you. The brief called for at least three secondary sources, and you’ve barely scratched the surface.

“Feel better soon, sweetie,” she says, offering you a sympathetic look. You manage a weak smile in return.

“Bye Spencer,” she says, her voice taking on a teasing lilt. “Take care of her for me, will ya?”

“Will do,” he says curtly, giving a small wave as you close the door behind her.

A moment later, your phone buzzes. He’s cute, her text reads. Another follows immediately: And basically a walking Wikipedia.

You start typing a response, but another text pops up before you can send it: Don’t dog on us for using ChatGPT now. You huff and click your phone off instead, tossing it aside. 

Therein lies another source of stress. Spencer is always happy to help you untangle a difficult text or interpret a dense poem, but he draws the line when it comes to your academic work. He never interferes directly. You’ve seen it yourself—The first time you handed him your laptop to review an essay, he’d made his comments verbally, pointing at sections on the screen while explaining his critiques in detail, but never actually touching the keyboard. You’d brought it up during an argument once, after a particularly crushing grade. Your frustration had spilled over: You’re smarter. You type faster. Why can’t you just fix it? But Spencer had only responded with something about “academic integrity” and the importance of maintaining the “code of conduct.” The conversation ended there, and after that, you stopped asking. 

Even yesterday, when you managed to scrape together 300 words for a draft, you’d handed your laptop to him, and again, he was careful to keep his boundaries. Too drained to make edits in real-time, you’d expected—maybe hoped—that he might step in more directly. Instead, Spencer quietly switched the document to “suggesting” mode, marking up your draft with precise yet detached annotations, never infiltrating or overstepping your own words. Spencer Reid is and always will be a stickler for rules. You try to hold yourself to the same standard. You steer clear of AI, no matter how tempting it might be. You know better. Well, that and because Spencer would never let it slide. 

But now it’s late and the thought of letting some website churn out polished, perfectly phrased sentences for you in seconds has never felt more tempting. The nausea has faded, leaving behind a fever in its place. Spencer’s in the living room, reading. You’d banished him to the couch—even the faint sound of pages turning, not to mention the speed at which he reads, was enough to derail your already fragile train of thought. You’d felt bad of course; he’d made soup for you earlier, fed it to you and everything. But with this essay worth 30% of your grade and your 300 words barely scratching the surface of the 3,000-word requirement, you don’t have it in you to be oh-so-sweet and ever-so-grateful. Not right now. You’ve nailed down the introduction—a quick overview of historical context, a sweeping statement on the authors’ intents. But now, the real challenge looms: The thesis. And you’re utterly stuck.

This essay argues that…  that…

You groan in frustration, flopping back against the pillows. So much for children’s literature. You’d chosen this class thinking it’d be an easy ride—fairy tales and picture books, how hard could it be? Yet here you are, being tasked with dissecting the significance of form and language. Now, the simple language and pretty pictures are anything but your friend, doing nothing to help further your argument. Your head throbs, your mouth feels like sandpaper, and the brilliant points you’d thought of in last week’s class are nowhere to be found, lost in the haziness of your mind. With a defeated sigh, you peel back the sheets and shuffle out of the bedroom, laptop in hand, every joint aching in protest. Spencer looks up from his book as the rustle of sheets catches his attention. His heart aches slightly when he sees you in the doorway, clutching your laptop and looking every bit as pitiful as you feel. He sets his book to the side. 

“How’s it going, honey?” he asks sympathetically, even though he already knows the answer from the state of you. 

“It’s barely going,” you admit with a yawn, tears prickling at your eyes from the force of it. They only add to your overall air of defeat as you cross the room and crawl into his lap, laptop balanced precariously on the armrest. “Brain’s foggy, can’t think straight,” you murmur in incomplete sentences. 

“Finalized your thesis yet?” he asks again, his voice gentle but patient. You shake your head, sinking deeper into his chest—It’s a silent surrender, as if giving in to the exhaustion and frustration that’s been building up. Spencer notices, brushing your hair gently away from your face, his hand cool against your hot skin. He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. “You’re burning up, hon,” he says softly, voice full of concern. “Why don’t we get you to bed, take a break for tonight, hm? You can work on this tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. The thought of putting everything off feels like both a relief and a burden. The idea of sleep has never seemed more appealing. But then, the thought of letting this drag on for another day—of pushing the finish line even further out of your reach fills you with dread. But you know you’re not in any state to be working on anything right now, let alone something worth 30% of your final grade. You know that you can’t focus, not when your body feels like it’s ready to give up and when your mind can barely hold onto a coherent thought. “Tomorrow, okay?” Spencer prompts again, calm and gentle. You know he’s right, so, despite the gnawing anxiety in the back of your mind, you nod. “Okay.” 

Spencer doesn’t push, just gives you a small, reassuring smile as he stands. Every movement feels like a chore as he guides you back to bed but the warmth of the blankets and the prospect of rest is more than enough motivation. He tucks you in, his touch comforting and steady. You feel like a weight has been lifted, albeit temporarily. Either way, it’s enough for now. You close your eyes, the thought of picking up where you left off tomorrow seeming almost bearable. 

You wake to the sunlight filtering through the curtains. It takes a moment for your brain to adjust to the new day, the stress of yesterday not entirely gone. But as you sit up, stretching slowly, mind less hazy and joints less achy, you feel a renewed determination, a flicker of focus that was nowhere to be found last night. Your mind is still whirling with fragments of ideas, half-formed arguments, and theoretical connections when Spencer strolls in with a cup of something warm for you.

“Tea.” he announces, handing it to you with a small, triumphant smile. “Decaffeinated.”

You frown, rubbing sleep from your eyes. “Need coffee.”

“Studies say caffeinated beverages stimulate the colon,” he counters matter-of-factly.

“Eww,” you groan, wrinkling your nose at him. “Why’d you have to say it like that?” 

“Exactly like that,” he replies without missing a beat, his tone precise and measured. “You’ve just recovered, and everyone knows caffeine is a gastrointestinal irritant.’

You huff, taking the mug from him. “Fine, but if I don’t finish this essay, it’s on you.” Spencer raises an eyebrow, completely unbothered by your protest. “Somehow, I think you’ll survive.”

You grumble under your breath but take a tentative sip of the tea anyway. It’s not what you wanted, but you can’t deny that he’s probably right—he usually is. The warmth seeps through the mug into your hands, grounding you just enough to pull your laptop over from the bedside table. Its practically empty screen blinks back up at you, as though it’s been waiting patiently all night. Hi again. Still here. Still empty. 

Spencer takes a peek at your screen and you can’t help but glare half-heartedly at the mug in his hands. Of course, it’s coffee. He’d get to enjoy caffeine while insisting you couldn’t. Typical.

“So, I was thinking…” you start, deciding to let the injustice slide for now as you scroll through your document.

“Hmm?” He looks up, his gaze meeting yours over the rim of his cup.

“What if I say that MacDonald’s pedagogy was more effective for children because Watts’s text was too directive. That works, right?” You look up, scanning his face for some form of agreement.

“That’s hardly arguable honey,” his words land softly, but you still feel your shoulders sag. “It’s an observation.”

"But—look at the words they use! It's so different. Here, look at the tone," you insist, nudging your laptop toward him. "There has to be something to be said about that, right?"

Spencer leans in, glancing at your screen before looking back at you. His expression is calm, composed, and maddeningly reasonable. "Watts’s text was meant to be read as a textbook. Of course it’s directive. You know that." 

Do you? You think you don't know much at this point. You don’t know what you know, and you don’t know what you don’t know. You groan, dragging your hands down your face as if you could physically scrape the frustration away. Darn you, Isaac Watts. Darn you, pedagogical learning. Darn you, whoever had the audacity to name this course a simple exploration into the history of children’s literature. 

Before you can wallow further, Spencer slides your laptop away. “How about we brush our teeth before crying over educational theories for children in the 18th century?” he suggests, his voice light. You sigh dramatically, dragging yourself to your feet like it’s some Herculean effort. When you shuffle back from the bathroom, hair slightly damp from washing your face, Spencer has taken over your spot on the bed, laptop resting on his legs as he scrolls through some article. He glances up when you flop down beside him with an exaggerated sigh.

"Feel better?" he asks, the faintest trace of a smirk on his lips.

"Not at all," you grumble. You don’t let him know that the brief pause in frustration has given your head just enough space to try again. 

It’s been hours, but you’ve finally narrowed down your thesis. It’s not amazing—far from it—but it’s something. It’s arguable, at least. Spencer’s been relegated back to the living room, his presence a vague hum in the background as you attempt to focus. You’d claimed you worked better in bed, though Spencer’s tried (and failed) to prove with statistics and studies that it’s just a placebo effect, a lie your brain insists on believing.

But right now, none of that matters. You have a thesis and on that note, an essay to begin. Or, at least, the faintest glimmer of one. And that’s when you hit a wall. Again. You sit cross-legged, laptop perched on your knees as you stare at the cursor, blinking like it knows you’re stuck. You wish it would stop judging you. You drag yourself—and your laptop thats become an extension of your body at this point—into the living room like a child seeking comfort. Spencer barely looks up from his article when you slump into the couch next to him.

“What about this?” You straighten your back, determined to sound confident this time, even if you're not sure where you're going with it. “What if I say that MacDonald’s use of fantasy is critical because it creates like, an emotional bridge and that makes it more effective for moral teaching and—”

“Well, yes," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Spencer doesn’t even look up from his article. "But that’s kind of a subpoint, honey.”

You stiffen, irritation rising like bile in your throat. “It’s not a subpoint. It’s a point.”

He shifts in his seat, eyes flicking up, finally meeting yours. His tone isn’t dismissive, but it might as well be. “How is that significant? What does it build toward?”

You grit your teeth. “Ugh, you sound like Kristoff.” You mutter, more to yourself than to him. You know it’s not fair to snap, but your patience is paper thin. You can feel the fever creeping back into your skin, and you’re not sure if it's the heat or the mounting pressure, but suddenly everything feels like a little too much. 

“Fine,” you say, swallowing your frustration, trying again. “What if I say that MacDonald’s narrative style is more progressive because it like, engages the reader’s emotions directly? And that’s why Watts’ text feels scarier?”

Spencer pauses. For a moment, you think you’ve finally hit something solid, his eyes narrowing just enough to show he’s intrigued. “And how are you planning to argue that?”

“Well, um… um—I… I don’t know!” You exhale sharply, throwing your hands up in exasperation. You sink back against the cushions, frustration seeping into your bones. “Something about how MacDonald’s vibe is all nice and charming while Watts is all like, ‘learn this or else’. 

“Sure I guess…” Spencer acknowledges, nodding slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But you’ll need more than vibes and a strong dislike of Watts to support it sweetheart.”

“Gee, thanks,” you say bitterly, rolling your eyes.

He chuckles softly, a sound that’s too calm, too collected, and somehow that makes it worse. He’s not wrong, but you’re still pissed off. You take a breath, steeling yourself for the next round of dissection. “Okay, then what if I say that MacDonald lets kids think for themselves, and Watts... doesn’t. Because of his moral authority and intellectual agency and whatever.”

Spencer’s eyebrows rise, just a fraction, but it’s enough. You feel a flicker of something—relief, maybe? It’s hard to say. His voice has shifted, just slightly, less detached now, more engaged. “You can build on that.”

“Really?” you ask, suddenly more hopeful than you’d like to admit.

“Really,” he confirms, leaning back in his chair. But then he tilts his head and furrows his brows in a way that makes you want to throw your laptop at him. “But you’ll need to define those terms and back it up with examples. Otherwise, it’s just a claim.” Of course. 

“God, you’re making this so much harder than it needs to be!” you snap, the irritation rising in your throat. “I get it, okay? I need examples. But you’re not even letting me work out a point before you just, I don’t know, shit all over it.” Spencer’s eyes widen, and for a second, you almost feel bad for snapping at him. 

“I’m just trying to help,” he says gently, but there's something in the way he says it—just a little too patient—that makes you bristle. You hate how right he always is, how calm he always looks, how much care he always has in his eyes even when you’re acting out. 

“You’re trying to help?” you repeat incredulously, shaking your head. “You’re poking holes in everything!” Even in your feverish haze, you know you’re being cruel—but you just can’t help it. All you can think about is how everything is slipping away, how your thoughts won’t line up, how your head is starting to hurt again. You’re not even sure if you’re angry at him anymore, or just angry at everything else. 

Spencer doesn’t answer right away. He glances at your screen again, a mess of quotes and bulletpoints. “I just want to make sure it’s solid, honey,” he says finally, his tone softer.

You scoff. “Yeah, well, you tore apart whatever solid lead I thought I had after two hours of work in just about five minutes, so thanks for that,” words tumbling out before you can stop them. Spencer’s silence hangs heavy in the air, and for a moment, neither of you speak. “Just… just let me get through this.” 

Spencer sits there for a moment, just enough for you to feel the weight of the tension shift in the room. “I’m not saying you can’t get through it. I just want you to get through it right,” he says carefully, his voice quiet but insistent. “That’s all.” There’s no judgment in his voice, just care.

But the heat, the fever, it’s all swirling inside you, and you can’t hold it together much longer. “Of course you are…” you mutter bitterly, already regretting everything you’ve said. It feels like every step forward just leads you straight into another wall, and you’re just too tired to keep going. It’s not that you want to push him away or that you don’t appreciate his help. You’re just too irritable, too exhausted. You just want the whole damn essay to be done—and you wish you didn’t need his help to make it happen. You want to yell, to throw something, to demand that the world stop spinning long enough for you to catch your breath. But all that comes out is a hollow, defeated sigh. 

You feel like you're drowning and you don’t want to drag him under with you. “I’m just…” You stop yourself, swallowing hard, trying to gather whatever little strength you have left. “I’m just so tired.” 

Spencer looks at you, eyes full of concern, but it doesn’t help. You don’t want sympathy. You want to be better—to be able handle all of this. You want to be able to write this damn essay on goddamn children’s books without falling apart. And it doesn’t help that you’re falling apart in front of Spencer. The same Spencer who can recite verses from Paradise Lost at the drop of a hat. You’d almost burst into tears the last time he did it after it had taken you an entire week just to decipher and analyze a single chapter with any real confidence. You can’t help but feel that pang of inadequacy every time he breezes through something you’ve struggled with, even if he doesn’t mean to make it look so effortless. You hate yourself for it. You can’t find a way to shake the feeling that you’re not doing enough, not good enough. Not for yourself, not for him. You feel the sting of it, it’s pressing on your chest, suffocating.

“I just… just feel like I can’t keep up with any of it.” You don’t say it with any anger, just exhaustion. It’s not even directed at him anymore—it’s just the fact that you feel so stuck, so far behind where you should be, where you so badly want to be. “Like I can’t keep up with you.” 

Oh. Spencer feels his heart sink. He’s always prided himself on being able to read people. He should’ve known better. He’d been so focused on helping, so intent on pushing you to reach the level he knows you’re capable of, the level he knows you want to be at—even if you keep telling yourself you don’t. The fever, the deadlines, the constant pushing—he should’ve known that it was all too much. 

“You don’t have to keep up with me honey, I’m right here with you,” he says, trying to get you to look up at him. You can’t meet his gaze. You feel guilty for snapping, for letting the frustration slip out, but you’re not rational enough right now to pull yourself out from this spiral of self-pity. It’s easier to stay here, in the anger, the frustration, than to face the embarrassment of it all. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with regret. “I didn’t mean to make things harder for you.” Spencer takes your hand, cautiously, testing the waters. He knows you don’t exactly want to be touched right now. He knows it makes you feel coddled. He pauses, waiting for your reaction. When you don’t push him away, he gains the confidence to cradle your face gently. You don’t resist, your tired eyes meeting his, heavy with sadness and Spencer thinks he can actually feel his heart break.

“You’re doing just fine sweetheart. You’re not falling behind. You’re just stressed. And sick.” He knows you’re feeling fragile, like any comfort might smother you so he threads forward lightly. “This essay? You’ll get it done. I promise.” It sounds right, and yet it doesn’t really help. It doesn’t stop the doubt that’s eating at you, the sense that you’re just not measuring up to everything you want to be. You feel like you’re barely treading water, no matter how hard you swim, the shore never gets any closer.

But for now, Spencer’s words are enough to quiet the panic—a buoy in your sea of sadness threatening to pull you under. You cling to it, knowing you’ll have to start swimming again soon. But for this moment, you allow yourself to stop. A beat. A pause. A breath—Just for now.

It’s only the next day that you manage to get the words on the page, not in any smooth, brilliant way, but they’re there. The sentences form, sometimes haltingly, sometimes with more confidence, until the essay is painfully but finally done. Not perfect, but it’s done. Relief washes over you, even as exhaustion lingers. 

The moment you hear the front door open, you practically leap up, laptop in hand, meeting Spencer before he can even take his shoes off. He raises an eyebrow, setting his bag down as you both settle onto the couch. Without a word, you hand over the laptop, nerves bubbling beneath the surface. You wait with bated breath as he begins to scroll, your laborious effort displayed in black and white. The sound of the touchpad clicking feels louder than it should in the quiet room. He asks a few questions, here and there—clarifications, mostly. Questions you answer with ease, surprising even yourself with the confidence in your responses. He nods along, his expression thoughtful, but not critical. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Spencer looks up, eyes bright, a proud smile on his face. “It looks great, honey. You did a really good job.” 

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face at his praise. “Really?” Spencer leans in, cupping your cheek gently, and presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Really.” When he pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours for a moment, his hand still cradling your cheek. “You worked so hard on this,” he murmurs. “So proud of you.”

Your chest tightens, but in a good way, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning forward to kiss him again, this time slower, savoring the comfort he always seems to bring. “Now," he pulls away just enough to smirk, "can I have my bedroom back, or should I just start setting up camp on the couch?” You laugh, rolling your eyes, but it’s full of affection. “Don’t even start.” Spencer chuckles, his arm slipping around your waist as he pulls you closer, the tension of yesterday long forgotten.

When you get your paper back, you flip through the pages, one after the other, looking for the feedback, waiting for the corrections, the marks that tell you where you inevitably went wrong.

Next page. Next page. Next page.

And then, there it is. On the last page, in a definitive red circle, unmistakable: A.

It’s an A. 

A goddamn A.

It doesn’t feel like a one-time fluke, not exactly, but you can’t shake the thought that this might be the only time you break through the glass ceiling you’ve spent so long looking up at. And who knows, maybe you’ll never push past it again. But for now, you allow yourself to relish in this singular moment of triumph. It’s enough. It’s more than enough. 

Because now you know that the other side is real, and that you can get there. But Spencer, the genius, the enigma, who’s always been a step ahead of everyone in everything academic, has always known.

And while everyone knows that an A in an essay that’s only a partial percentage of your overall grade isn’t anything compared to what he’s achieved, nothing compared to the academic milestones he’s already crossed—Still, he’s here, celebrating with you. You can see it in his eyes, even if he knows you’re not one to make a big deal of these kinds of things. His quiet joy is evident in the way he grins that little grin of his, the one that’s only for you. 

So, in summary, in essence, in all the words and ways you could possibly use to phrase a conclusion—You love your boyfriend. Truly, you do. After all, who else would read through your entire syllabus for the semester (frustratingly quickly), just because he knows you understand better when you can talk things out? Who else would patiently stick around, exiled to the couch in their own home, while you’re exhausted, irritable, and buried in deadlines? Nobody else ever cared enough to try. Spencer’s mind—though brilliant and boundless—isn’t the only reason why you fell for him. 

Because when the world feels too heavy, when the never ending lines of poetry and prose become too difficult to untangle by yourself, Spencer’s there reminding you—ever so gently, ever so steadily—that you can make it through, one word at a time.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

[scionsthings]

You utilized the exact same words i used with a friend when i was talking about this with them. I'm a very analytical person I don't put two man ( or any other couple actually ) together just because they are sexy and im not delulu, like i can tell when the story mean something or not, of course if I want to ship it i ship it in any case, but I'm mature enough to understand if something is meant or not because i do care about the canon events especially if they are well narrated. I saw this thing they have at the very first time, from act 1 Season 1 to act 3 Season 2 and Jayce's relationship with Mel actually helped me, who watched the series as an aroace person so i don't really know personally how love works lol, to understand what Jayce truly wanted. It was so, so obvious for me in Season 1 and Season 2 just confirmed Jayce's feelings, because the character himself realized them. He loved Mel, but because Mel is a Mirror, she reflects other people desires she...she was the reflection of Viktor. Jayce saw something of Viktor in her. These are not the eyes of someone in love who believes in their partner

And I choose these screenshots not to negate the fact Jayce felt genuine attraction for Mel (as i already said) but because these moments are moments of "tenderness" with your partner. But why are you so..distant? It's because Jayce unconsciously knew that Mel is not Viktor and she'll never could be but he still cares about her. And..well THESE are the eyes of someone in love, who believes in their partner knowing they want to stay by their side, for eternity at this point. Look how Jayce shines, AND in the very first time you can see the emotions in his eyes just talking to a stranger. Viktor gives him hope. Those eyes are so so intense when he's look at him

And the feeling is mutual, but Viktor is more subtle because he was so stucked on the belief he wasn't worth it...And then happened what happened. But even after all of that Jayce is here to remind him he's the most beautiful creature in the world in every sense possible, and he believed in him till the end. I really know what brotherly soulmates mean, it's like as you and another person were born from the same ovum, that strong connection between two twins and this is definitely NOT the case They are partners Science Partners Partners in crime Partners in love, with the difference their love it's expressed differently from simple kisses and carnal passion, they loves in their unique way that's why their relationship is so BEAUTIFUL There was no Kiss, not an "I love you" because those things are so..bland if you compare them to everything else, the touches, Jayce's words as you arleady said OP

And this for me, as for you OP, this makes Jayvik CANON And never won't change my mind because the voice actors believed in it. The animation team believed in it, because they showed us EXACTLY this type of love.

I know I'm most definitely not the first one to talk about this but truly I believe that if queer people identify with a ship/character then that makes them queer.

That being said, Viktor and Jayce are most definitely queer to me. Their love definitely defies the bounds of any normal "romantic" or "platonic" relationship and that in itself is inherently queer. Defying societies expectations of a given role, like, how is that not queer?

It genuinely baffles me that it's claimed they're "brotherly" because there are WAYS to code brotherly dynamics, or really close friends, without romantic undertones at all! That's possible, and those relationships are present in arcane! So why is it that Jayce and Viktor feels so queer? because they fucking are! You have to think, one person who worked on arcane does not define a relationship that has been worked on by a shit ton of other people. Their relationship is queer coded even if unintentional, it is there. and when characters are queer coded, they ARE queer.

Jayces confession was such a beautiful way to show his love for Viktor, they don't have to kiss, or explicitly say "love" for that to be the implication. It's there. half the people who watched that scene thought they were going to kiss. there's a reason for that! I hate pulling out the argument "what if one of them was a woman?" but sometimes you genuinely have to use that argument because SO many people would be on board if Jayce or Viktor was a woman and the other was a man.

Jayce is genuinely so devoted to him and it's so so clear the entire time! Because yeah! He chose to go through that with Viktor! He chose to hold him by the neck and hold hands with him! Because he loves him! That is true love no matter the intent! He loves everything about Viktor and never once did he falter in that love because it was such a big part of him!!!!! Like I cannot imagine watching the Finale and not coming out of it like "Jayvik is canon" because to me it is canon. like. legitimately canon. and I will be referring to it as canon because that's how I see it.

Okay thanks for listening to my thoughts lol I love queer relationships in media

[xetlynn]

Would you mind doing alternate universe claggor x a fem!reader who's a cat-person like lest?

Here you gooo!!!

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

Say It First

summary: [name] and claggor like one another but neither will make it official.

[arcane] [main page]

“[Name]!? [Name]! Dude your shift is about to start!” A slightly muffled voice shouts, startling me awake from the rough sleep I had last night. I shoot up from my couch, my ears ringing due to the sudden movement I made. I look around trying to remember where I even was. 

I glance down to my couch, trying to pinpoint why I was sleeping in my living room and not my bedroom. I get jolted out of my thoughts when the front door is slamming open. My eyes widened, stepping back to see Mylo who just kicked my door open. “Hey, my door!” I scrunch my face, putting my arms up. “You’re fixing that.” I angrily told him. 

“You should be thanking me, actually.” He rebuttals, showing me his watch. The time was 5 minutes before my shift at The Last Drop started. My heart sank. “I forgot to set my alarm.” I solemnly admit, rushing to my bedroom. “I didn’t know you were awake. I wouldn't have had Mylo do that! I thought he was going to pick the lock, not break it.” Powder says, following behind me. 

 “It’s okay, he’s fixing it whether he wants to or not.” I spit out, throwing my clothes off, not caring that my friend was right there. She covered her eyes immediately. “Vander is going to be pissed!” I cry out, throwing my work clothes on, grooming out my tail along with my hair. “I was up way too late last night.” I mutter, spraying a bunch of perfume on.

“Let’s go.” I grab my best friend’s wrist, dragging her out of my room. Mylo stood there, hands behind his back. “C’mon, I don’t want you in my house.” I point to him, taking his arm in my other hand. Hurriedly leaving my place, shutting the door behind me even though it really didn’t matter since my lock and door knob was busted.

“Why were you so tired, hm?” Mylo takes his arm back as we all rush to the bar. “I was out with a friend.” I rolled my eyes, sprinting ahead of them so I didn’t have to hear their teasing. 

“She was so with Claggor.” He whispers over to Powder who just snickers. “Totally.” She adds. 

“Guys, please whispering is not the best thing to do around me.” I point to my fluffed up ears. “We meant for you to hear.” The blue haired girl smirks. I groan. “Whatever.” The Last Drop comes into view and I start running to the building. I made it in just a minute. All eyes on me when I burst inside. I bite my lip, holding onto my tail nervously as I walk to Vander. “I made it on time.” I give him a small salute. 

“You look like you just woke up.” He ruffles my hair, my ears go down, upset with him messing up my hair. “That’s because she did.” Mylo sits on a stool, Powder joining. “Only reason she’s here is because we broke into her house.” She says in a joking manner even though that is quite literally what they did. 

“Yeah, Mylo. I’m not joking when I say you’re fixing that!” I fumed, heading behind the bar to tie my waist apron. “Yeah, yeah.” He sighs in annoyance. “He broke your lock?” A voice adds into the conversation, I perk up looking to see Claggor who’s holding a box of random things. “Yeah, can you believe that?” I smile, leaning over the counter. 

Vander scoffs, walking away knowing I’m about to be really distracted now. “Actually, I can.” He grumbles glaring over at his brother. “He learned it from Vi when we were younger.” Claggor thinks back to the pink haired girl who was basically his sister. I take his hand knowing sometimes it’s a little hard to mention her. “Yeah well he’s going to fix said door.” I squeeze his hand before letting it go to pinch Mylo on the arm. “Better get to it so I have a safe home to go to bed tonight.” I stare him down and when he attempts to argue I just make a zip it motion. 

“Going now…” He groans, storming out of the building. Powder joins Claggor and I, laughing at her pouting brother who just left. “I warned him about having to fix it.” She shrugs her shoulders. “He doesn’t think about consequences much.” I remind her. “Never has.” Claggor chimes in, giving me a small wink. My face flushes and I turn to Powder who was already smirking at me. 

“So, what were you two doing up so late last night?” She abruptly questions us, making both Claggor and I tense up. “Well, um, this was part of the reason.” He lifts up the box he came in here with. “A box of… junk?” Powder tilts her head with a slight expression of disgust. 

“Yes, I’m reusing it. To turn it into jewelry. Claggor and I were collecting them yesterday and he said he’d clean them and bring them back to me. Hence why he brought it here.” I explain, taking the box, hiding it underneath the counter. “Thank you by the way.” I grin, he nods his head. “Jewelry?”

“Yeah, Vander said I could sell some here if they were good enough.” I pointed over to their dad who was talking to a customer. “I forgot you were super into making jewelry.” Powder purses out her lips. “Speaking of jewelry! Ekko and I are going on a date to that art festival tonight. We wanted to invite you two.” She proposes to us and I furrow my eyebrows as Claggor has a slight blush on his cheeks. “You want us to join your date?” I repeated back to her.

“It’s a date for us, it can be whatever… your hangouts are called.” She avoids eye contact with me. I know what she’s doing. 

Claggor and I like each other. It’s extremely evident and we both know how annoying it comes off. For some reason we don’t talk about it nor do we hint at it or anything. No kissing, no hugging, no intimacy at all! I got a fist bump last night and I dreamt about it, that’s how pathetic this whole ordeal is. 

“You don’t have to answer now but I need one before 4.” She smacks her hand down on the counter before walking away just as her boyfriend, Ekko comes into view. I turned to Claggor who was staring down at his hands. “Do you want to go?” I ask him, I feel my tail flicker to the side and I grab it. Not wanting it to give away my interest. “Do you?” 

I smack his arm because of his answer. He does this often. Not giving me an answer on what he wants and deflecting it for me to answer first. “I do, actually. Now, what do you want to do?”

He smiles up at me. “That’s exactly what I was going to say.” He says. I roll my eyes. “Sure it was.” 

•••

Powder gets dressed over at my house. She’s wearing a white shirt that has pink flowers all over it with a long black skirt as I put on a dark blue shirt and jean shorts. My shorts used to be Powders but I absentmindedly cut a hole in them for my tail after I borrowed them. 

“Are you two going to make it official soon?” Powder asks as she finishes her eyeliner. “Again with this?” I whine, aggressively putting my shoes on. “[Name] it is exhausting to watch! Just say something. I’m sure he wants the same thing!” She practically begs and I sit on the edge of my bed, letting out a huff of air. “I know he does but I want him to make the first move. He never says what he wants first.” I throw myself back on my bed dramatically. 

“He’s most likely just nervous, he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing.” Powder comes and sits beside me. Her face was hovering over mine. “I understand though.” She rubs my arm. “Funny, Ekko was pretty straight forward last I checked.” I poke her nose, her cheeks turn pink in response. “Okay I don’t fully get it but I do understand if I put myself in your shoes.” She shoves my arm, standing back up. 

•••

We meet up with the guys at the bridge where they’re throwing the festival. Powder jumps over to her boyfriend, linking their arms. Claggor and I awkwardly stand beside one another, following behind the couple into the festival. 

I mainly just looked around for new jewelry inspos to make out of the recycled junk that I have. Telling Claggor to take a mental image just in case I forgot. Powder and I fangirling over certain paintings and little gadgets all around. 

“[Name], look at that table.” Powder points over to another jewelry table but the jewelry wasn’t made of metal or plastic but instead plants. My jaw slacks, grabbing onto Claggor excitedly bringing him over to the table with me. Not realizing that Ekko and Powder took that as a chance to split up from us. I pick up a blue flower crown, examining it. “I could so create something like this!” I squeal, placing it on my head. “Powder they have pink-” I held it in my hands, turning to show her but she was already gone. I press my lips together and frown.

 “Wow.” I scoffed out a laugh. “Hey, since you picked that up you actually have to buy both of them.” The creator comes up behind me, I look at her with a sad look. I didn’t bring any money. Before I can say that though Claggor was already giving him a few coins. “Thank you.” She nods her head, stuffing the coins in her pocket. 

“Sorry, I’ll pay you back.” I hold the flower crown in front of me. Not knowing what to do with it now. “It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” He waves me off. I look between him and the crown, a smirk creeping up on my lips. 

“Put this on.” I give it to him, he raises a brow. “Okay.” He puts it on without a fight and I giggle, giving him a hug. “We match!” I feel my tail flick back and forth and I immediately let him go before he can embrace me back.

I clear my throat. “Let’s go check out the glass area. That seemed cool.” I avert my gaze from him, walking ahead now. “You okay?” He asks. “Of course.” I curtly answered. 

I want to be able to hug him without worrying about doing too much. Or showing him I’m too happy because what if that looks weird. My ears and tail give me away too quickly though. I’ve never been able to lie about my emotions. Ever. If I’m upset my ears flatten. If I’m happy, excited or nervous my tail will show it with how it moves. It’s sort of annoying. 

“I know something’s bothering you, [Name].” He places a hand on my shoulder. See! 

“Nothing’s bothering me.” I lie, forcing a smile. “Let’s go see that glass.” I pump my fists in the air. He doesn’t move though when I begin to walk. “C’mon.” I try to grab his hand but he pulls away to cross his arms. “Not until you tell me.”

I glanced around us and everyone was just walking around, not paying attention to what we were doing at all. “I guess we can stay in the jewelry section.” I attempt to make a joke but it doesn’t land with my very small audience.

Once his silence began to bother me I swallowed down my pride. Thinking back to what Powder said. How it might just be hard for him to explain how feels about things. 

“I want to be something.” I deflect eye contact with him, trying to focus on literally anything else at this moment. “What do you want to be?” He stammers.

“A couple like Ekko and Powder. I want to kiss, hold hands, tell everyone that you’re mine.” I exclaim, at the ending of my sentence I glance up at him. His hands drop to his sides. “I can’t tell if that’s what you want either because you never tell me how you feel unless I say what I feel and then you just agree with me and it makes me feel like you’re lying almost.” I blurt out word after word, not being able to stop the vomit that is this sentence. 

“I just want to know how Claggor feels, not [Name].” I tell him truthfully, my head going down sadly. My ears falling with it. I hold onto my tail to mess with something.

“I… in all honesty [Name] I feel the same way as you most of the time. Like this for example, I want the same thing. I want to call you mine and scream it out to everyone. I just get scared that I’m going to mess up.” He grabbed my hands, my tail dropping back down. “What would you mess up?” I look up at him through my eyelashes. “Everything.” He chuckles dryly. 

“Mm, I don’t think you ever could.” I pull him closer to me, wrapping his arms around me. “I want you to be mine and I want you to tell me everything you feel.” I tell him, my arms going around his neck. “I want to kiss you.” He says, momentarily letting me go so we can get out of people's way a little better. We weren’t exactly stopping anyone from walking but so we could have our moment a little better. He brought me to the wall of the bridge. 

“You want to kiss me?” I giggle, my hand traveling to his face. “Mhm.” He nods his head. I see the redness in his ears from how hard he’s blushing. “Then do it.” I whisper.

He smiles, both of us inching closer and closer before he closes the gap between us. Our lips locking together and then moving as if we’ve done this before. 

Once we realize we were still in public though we back away with dumb, goofy smiles on our faces. “We need to do that more often.” I blurted out, causing him to laugh. “I wouldn’t mind.” 

“FINALLY!!!” Two arms wrap around us, pulling us together with Powder who was excitedly jumping up and down. “What’d I tell you, Ekko. My plan worked.” She throws her head back to look at her boyfriend who shook his head. 

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Pack Chapter 11

Trigger Warnings: Stalking

Four blissful days later, Jeongin's rut had ended. Four days of mind-blowing sex had finally ceased and now Y/N laid naked beside a very sweaty sleeping Jeongin. Y/N's body was covered in gentle bruises in between her legs and up her neck. Her body was still leaking with Jeongin's cum that would not produce any offspring. No pups. Not after Changbin delivered the morning-after pill that was enough to cover four days. If Jeongin lasted any longer Chan was threatening to pull her out, but Y/N stayed loyal under Jeongin's rut. Truthfully, Y/N had not expected Jeongin to be so rough and dominating with her. It was something she had expected from Seungmin, if not Chan, but the more she thought about it the more she saw similarities between Jeongin and Seungmin. They were the closest two and both had sharp personalities, but she still hadn't expected Jeongin to be like this during a rut. Y/N wondered if it was because he was a newly presented alpha who was newly mated to an omega that he lost control too quickly. Y/N didn't mind if anything she was well satisfied. She was content. She was more content with watching Jeongin's sleeping form. Strands of hair covered his eyes, so she brushed them away. He looked more tired as he slept. "Watching someone sleep is creepy you know," Jeongin muttered, his tired eyes looking around the room as he tried to regain his senses. Eventually, his eyes turned to Y/N's naked form that drew him in. He was mesmerised but also stunned as he looked at the bruises. He didn't expect to do so much damage. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't realise." Jeongin whispered. His voice was non-existent. Jeongin felt a wave of guilt as he looked at her. He couldn't believe what he had done. Jeongin reached out to hug her, apologising repeatedly as he held her. "I'm sorry for cumming inside you. I got excited. And I-" "Innie it's fine. Please do not worry. Let's have a bath." Y/N stated.

Jeongin ran her a hot bath and sat behind her, carefully washing her back, while being careful of her newly mated mark. He felt proud of his mark that sat on the left side of her neck in between her neck and shoulder near Jisung's mark. Y/N leaned her head on Jeongin's bare chest, allowing him to softly caress her skin. They lay there for a few minutes before they washed their hair and headed downstairs to face a disappointed Chan. "Little wolf come here," Chan ordered. He wasn't in any way blaming Y/N, it was Jeongin's fault and he knew that. "M'sorry Alpha," Y/N whispered, her head cowering. Chan looked at her, feeling proud of her submissive apologetic nature. She was learning her place rather quickly, but how long that would last they didn't know. "How are you, little wolf? Was Jeongin kind to you?" Chan asked curiously as he reached out to touch her neck and then her mark. "Jeongin's marked you, but he hasn't cleaned it properly." Chan hummed. "Please alpha. It wasn't Innie's fault. He was having a rut." Y/N defended. "Y/N, my love, it's alright. I have to be punished. I shouldn't have cum inside you." Jeongin said with a guilty look while Y/N wrapped her arms around her head alpha. Her grey eyes looked up at him, hoping he would forgive Jeongin and let it go. Chan looked down at her grey eyes and sighed. It was hard to say no to her. "Alright. Jeongin, I don't want you being physically intimate with our mate until I deem it acceptable." Chan ordered. His statement caused Minho to laugh. "You see. You can't say no to her." Minho laughed and Chan shook his head. It was true they couldn't say no to her. "Can we take her to the gym?" Changbin interrupted eagerly as he waved some female sports gear around. "Once Felix takes a look at her neck, but only if she wants to." Chan pointed, making Y/N sigh, she wasn't a gym girly, but today she was going to be.

As soon as Felix cleaned her wound and placed a plaster over the wound, Y/N was heading straight to the gym with Jisung and Changbin who were extremely excited to see her in gym clothes. To Y/N's surprise the sports bra fitted her but the leggings didn't so she had to stay in her joggers, but neither seemed to mind. "So we're going to do cardio first to warm up and then some weight training. What do you think?" Changbin said. Y/N could tell there was a plan in what Changbin wanted her to do and Y/N wasn't looking forward to it. "Why weight training? I don't know how to do that!" Y/N grumbled. "We'll help you, baby," Jisung stated as he walked over towards the treadmill starting it up. Y/N followed suit and walked at a relatively slow pace, not wanting to fall and make an idiot of herself. Changbin and Jisung on the other hand pushed themselves by running as humanly fast as they could, since they where surrounded by humans.

Y/N gave up and moved alone to a machine to do her lower back as she knew she was weaker. Deep down she was cursing herself when she felt Changbin watching her with his arms crossed. Y/N knew he was being a pervert because she could see him in the mirror but she paid no mind to it. She was making up her own workout routine until one of them had the balls to do a routine with her. Luckily, Changbin had the balls to ask her to do weight training, which Y/N grunted and groaned about. She was feeble and did not have the strength despite being a wolf. "What do you want me to do?" Y/N asked pathetically. "If you lay down, I'll pass you the weights and I want you to lift them. We'll do three sets of four and Jisung will catch them if you need to drop them." Changbin assured. "I got you baby," Jisung promised, his eyes grinning as he watched her lay down, ready to take the weights. "Lift up, slowly," Changbin said as he helped push her arms up, making sure she had good form. Y/N grunted as she lifted her arms up and down slowly, she was not enjoying this in the slightest. She felt uneasy as if something in the room had shifted. "Baby focus," Changbin called out. "I'm trying. Something doesn't feel right." Y/N whispered. "Alright let's take a break for a minute," Jisung said, taking the weights.

Changbin gave her a water bottle so she could catch her breath. He couldn't help but admit to himself that she was incredibly attractive. The way she bent over, using the machine for her lower back had made his bottoms tight. The way her breasts flattened when she was laid down. Everything was fulfilling his fantasies. "How are you feeling?" Jisung asked as he squeezed her neck. "Do you think you're ready to start again?" "Yeah, sorry. I felt weird." Y/N said. "That's alright. We're here." Changbin stated as he grabbed the weights again, this time Changbin stood over her, his legs on either side of her waist, watching her. Changbin flexed his thighs on her, smiling at her, causing her to shake her head. What a flirt. "You're not helping, Binnie," Y/N mumbled. "Can swap with Ji if you like." Changbin leant down and smirked her. This went on for about a few minutes when Y/N felt uneasy again. Y/N turned her head to the side to see a figure, causing her to nearly drop it on her. "Woah, careful baby." Jisung and Changbin called out. "M'sorry." Y/N said, her heart was starting to thump in her chest. "What happened?" Changbin asked. Y/N looked over to see the figure again. Changbin followed her eyes to see the figure too. "Jisung!" Changbin whispered nodding his head to where the figure was.

Jisung left to go and find the figure while Changbin grabbed Y/N by the arm, walking her quickly to the car. "Binnie?" Y/N asked worriedly. "Let's just get to the car." Changbin's voice was hoarse. There was protectiveness in his voice as he held onto her, tighter than he usually did. Once they reached the car Jisung ran over and jumped in the back seat, telling Changbin to drive. "Did you find them?" Changbin asked as he drove off as fast as he could. "No. I followed them out and then they disappeared. Honestly Changbin I don't know how." Jisung growled his orangey eyes glowing as he held Y/N close, his nose burying itself in his mark. Jisung inhaled her scent trying to calm himself and her down when a sickly sweet smell seeped into the car making the beta's mouth water. "Uh baby, you alright?" Jisung asked nervously. His eyes cast a glance at Changbin who too looked nervous. "M' fine Jisungie." Y/N hummed, her eyes glowing blue as she looked at him. "Gonna text the boys quick," Jisung stated. "Good idea," Changbin added. Jisung: Baby's having her heat. She smells sweet. Hyunjin: That's definitely her heat smell. Me and Chan are going to start heading back. How was the gym? Minho: I'll start preparing the safehouse. Jisung: Thank you Min. Jisung: Not to alarm you but there was someone watching her or us. Felix: WHAT!! Jeongin: Get back quickly. "Want my Jisungie" Y/N groaned out. "You're going to have to help her." Changbin stated. "Ah. Ok." Jisung breathed out as he quickly pulled her forward, his mouth on her mark as he prepared to ease her heat. Of course, it would start now, emergency contraception puts wolves straight into a heat.

Taglist for the iconic readers:

@galaxy4489 @reallychaoticwoo @leezanetheofficial @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @pixie0627 @maggicotton @jellymochii @itzreetal987 @jennibahng @vampkittenb82 @catlove83 @thatgirlangelb @hyunmikim @skzdreamer13 @liv1sworld @upsidedownchaire @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @tsunderelintz @notevenheretbh1 @catlove83 @h0rnyp0t @hash2013 @emi-han @iknow-uknow-leeknow @jigglypuff3000 @aalexyuuuhm @missseoulite @ihrtlix @estella-novella @xxeiraxx @fr34k4c1dr41n

~ Taglist closed due to Tumblr only allowing a certain amount ~

[karaeilishh]

Lowkey imagining new artist!reader like reader is new in the industry and having a huge gay panic during the Grammy's or something and Billie eating reader out under the table or fucking reader in the bathroom. AAAAAAAAA

🐇

hi bunny, ik you've been waiting for a long time, but this is for you, mwah 💋

MY STRANGE ADDICTION b. eilish

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 …just add some friction

“you look a little stressed, babygirl,” you bite your bottom lip nervously when you hear a damn familiar voice behind you. billie. your your heart skipped a few feverish beats, if only because she was one of the reasons of your... stress. her warm hand gently touches your shoulder, her fingers feel like a feather above your skin. under the pressure of her charm, you turn to face her, looking up at her. she was looking at you with that look, with her black eyeliner. god. “nervous?” 

nervous? that word couldn’t describe how you felt right now. all your organs were clenching with concern. you can feel your heart pumping your blood through your arteries, capillaries, how it flows through your veins into your heart again. this was your first grammy, as a new artist. you had a few nominations, but you were ready to lose all of them. it was like you were a nobody compared to the people in your category. and those ocean blue eyes that had been following you for almost the entire evening. billie was smiling softly, but the way she was biting her lip, her eyes trailing down your body made you whine. 

“yeah, a little. i kind of have confidence in myself, but kind of not.” you chuckle, looking away from billie’s face. you didn’t want to burden her with your thoughts, but a part of you wanted to tell her everything that was on your mind. her fingers trace their way to your face, gently grabbing your chin. you freeze as she forces you to look at hers. her gaze makes your heart and your stomach drop to her feet. “i think you need to relax a little” 

deadly fever, please don’t ever break

“quiet mama, be quiet” your eyes water as she uses that nickname. you thought that when billie suggested you relax, she meant she was taking you to some mutual friends in search of some easy companionship. oh no. the bathroom. dim lights illuminating your bodies. your dress, hiked up messily to your waist. heat of hell. her fingers buried deep inside your pussy. she’d just dragged you here, shoving you into the nearest stall and pinning your body to the wall. oh, she was hungry. so fucking hungry. 

you whined and clenched your hips as she smashed her lips against yours, practically fucking your mouth with her tongue. you moaned softly into her lips, grabbing her shoulders, trying to rip that damn jacket off her. she chuckled, pulling away slightly to leave a small bite on your ear. “where are your manners, baby?” you throw your head back. her husky whisper drives you crazy. your thoughts, overloaded with the upcoming award, were now completely captured by billie. her hands, her breath, her voice. her tongue on your neck. she knew how reckless she was when she nibbled on the tender skin of your neck, leaving marks. you tried to push her away, saying that she can’t do this to you now. what do you mean she can’t? she can’t, when she’s wanted you for so long and so desperately? no, she can. she will. even if millions of people see you in half an hour. no one will ever know who left those marks on your neck, and if they do, she’ll only be glad. “i’m sorry, doll. you’re too sweet”

“everyone will see...” you whisper, making her just chuckle. oh, she found it funny now? such a bitch. you want to protest again, but her fingers tugging at the hem of your underwear make you unable to say a word. billie presses her body against yours, pressing you further into the wall. like another moment and the marble will swallow you both. you gasp slightly when she touches the wet spot on the lace fabric. smiles. she smiles again. “i think you’ll forgive me for this if i fuck your brains out real good, hm?”

you can’t answer her with anything but pathetic pleas. she would probably make you use your words to tell her exactly what you want, but she couldn’t wait now. she just couldn’t. she yanks your panties off, collecting your wetness in her fingers. so wet for her. wild. “fuck, you have no idea what i want to do to you”

you don’t have time to process her words before her fingers slide inside you, picking up the pace immediately. you moan too loudly for a public bathroom, just not having the strength or desire to hold it. and billie doesn’t have the strength or desire to shut you up, because she’s been waiting for this moment for so long. she just asked you to be quiet, but she’ll be happy if you don’t. her fingers curl inside you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. “can you take more, baby? you can...”

her voice drips with desperation. she doesn't wait for your permission, knowing that you'll let her do whatever she wants to you. a third finger slides into your hole, stretching you out perfectly. you bite her neck, finally making her moan sweetly. it's fair if you leave your mark on her neck too, right? 

"faster, bils, faster..." you moan into her neck, almost completely hanging on hers when your knees become too weak to support your weight. she doesn't need to be asked twice. her fingers grind against your walls until you're fucking shaking. you quietly ask her if you can cum and it drives her crazy. "god, you're such a good girl for me already. come on, cum on my fingers" 

and all your worries become so unimportant when her fingers buried inside you.

[natalievoncatte]

Kara heard a distinctive hollow pop as she approached Lena’s apartment. The doorman had been gracious enough to let her up, informing her that Miss Luthor was expecting her. She knocked on the door and listened intently. The soft clink of a bottle being set on a table and rather gentle passing of Lena’s feet on the hardwood floor. Kara resisted the urge to peer through the door.

When it swung in, she wished she’d had the chance to prepare herself. Lena was visibly distraught, eyes red rimmed from crying and cheeks puffy. She was dressed down in a a sweater and leggings, and couldn’t meet Kara’s gaze with her own.

It hurt. Seeing her like this physically hurt, gouging a dull ache into her chest. Her first instinct was to reach out and scoop the smaller woman into a tight hug, make her safe, to wall her in with her arms. Kara fought it down and sighed.

“You… don’t look so good.”

“Come in,” Lena said, her voice soft and flat. “If you want to hang out with a monster, that is.”

Lena turned and trudged back into the apartment as if she was walking to the gallows. She fell back into the couch and grabbed the wine bottle from the table, long since having abandoned the pretext of glasses.

“You’re not a monster, Lena.”

She stared at the bottle and took a long pull from it, the wine sloshing around the bottom.

“Yeah I am. You ever watch Godzilla movies?”

Kara blinked. “What?”

“Godzilla. Giant radioactive lizard.”

“Of course.”

Lena snorted a bitter laugh. “Monsters are born too large, too strong, too tall. That is their tragedy. Or something like that. Director of the movie said it. That’s me. I’m not trying to hurt anyone, it’s just in my blood. It’s who I am and I’ll never escape it.”

“That’s not true,” Lena said, softly.

She looked around the apartment, shocked to find dishes piled in the sink and two more empty wine bottles lined up on the kitchen island.

Kara quickly moved to the couch. Lena offered no resistance as Kara took the bottle. Lena stared as Kara took a long, glugging pull.

“There. Now you’re not drinking alone.”

Lena smiled weakly. Kara didn’t mind the taste of the wine but as far as getting her drunk, it was like pouring it down the drain. If she could keep Lena from alcohol poisoning, it was worth it. Kara felt a tug in her chest. Lena looked so soft, her big eyes wet with tears.

“I only wanted to help.”

“You did, Lena. You saved the world.”

“Children, Kara. Sick kids, dying because of me.”

“That’s not true, Lena. Edge is cooking the data, you know that. We’re going to clear your name and I’m going to help.”

“I’m so tired, Kara. My own brother tries to murder me once a week because I won’t help him try to take over the world. I keep getting kidnapped by my insane family and aliens and God knows who else and I’m tired. That woman today almost killed me. One of these times there won’t be someone to jump in front of the bullet and it’ll be my time.”

“That won’t happen.”

Lena shook her head, failing to fight back the tears. “I’m so tired of being everyone’s monster.”

“You’re not a monster to me, Lena. You are so good. You work so hard and care so much, and people don’t even know about your work at the children’s hospital, the reading to the kids. You’re a saint.”

Lena looked at her sharply. “How did you know about that?”

Kara thought, FUCK.

She fiddled with her glasses, knowing it was a tell.

“I um, well I am a reporter. I won’t tell anyone, I know you don’t want publicity.”

“Kara, I’m confused. I put a lot of effort into making sure no one knows I do that, so the kids don’t have to deal with the bullshit my life brings. Have you been following me?”

Kara licked her lips.

Just holding back the truth isn’t make it a lie, did it?

“More like keeping tabs, just to… keep you safe. To watch your back.”

Lena looked horrified. Kara’s chest seized and she thought for a moment that she’d gone too far.

“Kara, I don’t want you doing that. If Edge or my brother come after me and you’re in the way, they’ll kill you. You can’t risk that, you don’t deserve it.”

Lena grabbed her hands. “Listen to me, Kara. I have a target on my back. I have a price on my head. Sooner or later my number is going to be up and I’d rather die than have you be the one to catch the bullet. I just want you to be okay.”

“They won’t get you.”

Lena pressed her eyes shut and choked back a sob. “Yeah, they will. I’m living on borrowed time. It’s just a matter of the odds, in the end. Next time James won’t be there to take a bullet for me and Supergirl will be too busy and I’ll just be another monster on obituary page until-“

“Stop it!” Kara barked, shocked at the sharp snap of her own voice. “Stop it. I won’t let them.”

Lena’s eyes snapped open and she stared at Kara, more than a little shocked. Her hands tensed, closing tightly around Kara’s.

“Don’t put that on yourself. I’m not you’re responsibly and I don’t want you risking your life for me. It’s just not worth it.”

“You are worth it,” Kara insisted, shaking her hands a little as she leaned in. “You are, and I won’t accept that you’re not.”

“I love that you believe in me so much.”

Kara’s heart did a backflip. Love? She loved it? Lena was looking at her with such a softness in her eyes, and Kara scolded herself that she was drunk, that she might say things she didn’t intend or didn’t want to slip out.

“But,” Lena said, “you’re just one person, you can’t save me from this.”

Kara’s jaw set as she bit down on this pressure growing inside her, as if something had taken root in her chest and grown and grown inside until it made her ribs creak and her heart ache and it would split her open if she didn’t let it out.

She wasn’t drunk. She was lucid, clearheaded, but Lena was gazing into her soul with tear-filled eyes and she looked so small and vulnerable and resigned, like she was just waiting for her turn at the headsman’s axe.

Kara couldn’t take it. She couldn’t fucking take it, and the words came so easily she scarcely knew how she’d held it in for so long.

“I can protect you, Lena. I’m Supergirl. I can do anything.”

Lena’s soft expression twisted into a scowl.

“Bad time for a joke, Kara.”

Tenderly, as gently as she could, Kara guided Lena’s hand to her glasses.

“Go ahead.”

Lena hesitated, chewing her lip, eyes flicking strangely, gaze surveying Kara’s face- looking at her eyes, her scar, and in a way that pulled at Kara’s heart, her lips.

Slowly, carefully, Lena pulled the glasses free, visibly surprised by their weight.

“They’re lined with lead. It helps with sensory overload.”

Lena raised her now shaking hand and her thumb grazed Kara’s ear as she reached back to unclasp the clip holding Kara’s hair, allowing honeyed tresses to spill free across her shoulders and down her back.

“Look at me, Lena.”

Lena looked. Her expression flickered from pained annoyance to shock to something Kara couldn’t quite identify.

“You lied to me,” Lena whispered.

Kara bit back some lame excuse, like I never said I wasn’t Supergirl.

“I did, and I’m sorry. If this means your feelings about me have changed, that’s okay, but I won’t stop protecting you. I won’t let Morgan Edge or your brother or anyone hurt you. Never you.”

Kara’s jaw trembled as she spoke and her heart was racing.

Lena’s was doing the same, beating too fast in her chest. Kara carefully put her hands on Lena’s shoulders.

“Easy,” she said. “I know this is a shock.”

“When you caught me after… when you saved me from Lillian… when you… the helicopter… that was you?”

“Always, Lena. I’ll never let you fall.”

“Kara?” Lena whispered.

She was staring, but rather than meet Kara’s gaze, she was looking lower, eyes fixed on Kara’s lips. Kara’s gut did a backflip at the way Lena was looking at her, mouth slightly parted, flushed, her heart racing.

If Kara was human, she might pick up on those things, or she might not. She might be confused or briefly wonder if Lena was really looking at her the way it seemed she was.

Kara Danvers was not human. She could look up and see particles dancing across the atmosphere in hues for which humans had no names because their eyes were blinded to them. She could hear the rapid beating of Lena’s heart and see the heat blooming on her skin and taste on her tongue the tangy, pleasant musk of the pheromones Lena was emitting, and she could do it all so fast that her mind processed it so quickly that it could barely be measured. When Lena began to lean towards her, she watched it happen in curious slow motion.

When Lena kissed her, it was an explosion of sensation. Not just the soft warmth of her lips but her scent, her real scent breath the perfumes and sharp tang of wine smell, the pure scent of Lena herself. The soft sigh that broke from Lena’s lips was a symphony, and Lena’s hands on Kara’s flanks was like a blast of firecrackers running under her skin to ignite a sudden flare of warmth low in her hips.

Lena was kissing her. Kara was kissing her back, consuming every aspect of the contact in perfect detail, burning it into her solar-powered Kryptonian mind where it would live in perfect detail for the rest of forever.

She gently, oh so gently, pushed Lena back.

“Lena, stop.”

“Oh,” Lena murmured, her face falling. “I didn’t… I’m sorry… I thought… I misread…”

“No, no Lena it’s not that I promise, you’re drunk. You’ve had too much to drink and I can’t let you do anything while you’re like this, I couldn’t take it if you wake up tomorrow and…”

Lena blinked back tears.

“Oh my God. You really are a superhero, aren’t you?”

“I’m just being decent.”

Lena smiled sadly. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Well, you’ve got me, Lena. You’re not getting rid of me.”

Lena actually laughed, a bitter little chuckle that made her look away in embarrassment.

“I can imagine Lex seething if he found out about this.”

“Alex is going to kill me.”

Lena giggled. “Oh my God.”

“What, um, what is this, exactly?” said Kara, her voice cracking with tension. “I mean, you kissed me.”

“I did,” Lena said, guarded. “I’ve wanted to for so long. How does the saying go? In vino, veritas?”

“In wine there is truth,” said Kara.

“Yeah.”

“Lena, we’re going to get through this, I promise, and I will always protect you. Always. Right now I need to protect you from the hangover you’re going to have tomorrow. I’m putting you to bed, and I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t have to, but I need to know you’re safe, and you can’t get any safer than Supergirl crashing on your couch.”

Lena blurted, “I could have her in my bed.”

Kara thought her soul might leave her body.

“Not when you’ve had this much to drink.”

“God, you are amazing,” Lena sighed.

Kara nodded. “If you say so.”

It took a while for Kara to actually get Lena into her bed. Lena was suddenly taken with an extreme tiredness and Kara let her lean on her as they walked down the hall, fighting the urge singing in her veins, demanding that she pick her up and just carry her.

She may have been Supergirl, but even she had limits.

Once Lena was curled up in blankets and safe, Kara puttered around the apartment, doing the dishes, cleaning a little before she fell back on the expansive sofa to sleep.

When the warm morning sun woke her, she sat up and found Lena staring at her.

“I didn’t dream that. You’re really here.”

Kara rose from the couch and approached her tentatively.

“Yeah. I’m really here. Lena, if you’re angry with me because…”

Lena cut her off, darting forward to plant a soft kiss right on her lips. Kara froze as her brain essentially rebooted.

“Oh,” said Kara.

Lena smiled softly. She still looked bedraggled and had clearly been crying, but the smirk on her lips was everything.

[official-cvntified-gay]

TEETH masterlist

pairing: rio vidal x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of murder, desperate lesbian, an attempt at writing a songfic

wc: unknown

note: been a minute since I uploaded. The song is Teeth by 5 Seconds of Summer, I wrote this because I can't get the bridge out of my mind.

The moon hung high, a red sliver in the darkened sky, casting long shadows over the ancient magical forest. You and Rio Vidal walked in tense silence along the Witches Road, a treacherous path known only to those bound by magic. The air crackled with tension, every step a reminder of the unspoken words between you.

Rio was a force of nature beside you—sharp eyes glowing with an eerie green light, her aura suffused with the earthy scent of pine and decay. She was death personified, a Green Witch who controlled the cycles of life and death, yet here she was, fighting alongside you against the coven's trials. More like enjoying everything that's happening.

As you walked, memories of your relationship flooded your mind, as if the road itself was taunting you.

Some days you're the only thing I know, the only thing that's burning when the nights grow cold...

You glanced at her, heart aching with the weight of everything unsaid. How had things gotten so complicated between you? There were days when Rio was the only solid thing in your life, the one person you could count on. Yet lately, you felt her slipping away, like sand through your fingers. Every touch, every glance, was filled with a mix of desire and doubt.

“Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive,” you heard Teen, a younger witch from Agatha's coven, mutter under his breath. The fear was evident in his voice, but you had no room for fear now—not with Rio's penetrating gaze fixed on you.

She didn't say anything, but you could feel her judgment, her disappointment, simmering just beneath the surface. It was always like this—this push and pull between you, where one wrong move could shatter whatever fragile peace existed between you.

The scene shifts, a memory dragging you back to a time when everything between you and Rio was on the brink of breaking. Blood on your shirt, a black rose clutched in your trembling hand. You had just done the unthinkable—struck down members of your found coven to prove your loyalty to her.

You're looking at me like you don't know who I am...

Rio's eyes, usually so playful and full of dark humor, were devoid of warmth as she looked at you. "Why would you do this?" she asked, her voice a whisper filled with disbelief. She has your heart in her hands, only beating for her.

“I did it for you, Rio,” you said, your voice cracking. “To show you that I’m worthy, that I can be just as ruthless.”

But instead of the approval you were expecting, all you got was her back as she turned away from you. Her silence was deafening, more cutting than any knife she so dearly loved. It broke something inside of you to see her like this, to see her reject the very darkness she had embraced her whole life.

“I never asked you to become like this,” she said softly, not even bothering to look back. “I never wanted you to lose yourself for me.”

The Witches Road stretched out like a serpentine nightmare, coiling around the dense forest with a darkness that seemed to swallow the moonlight whole. Beside you, Billy kept pace, his hands sparking with bursts of chaotic energy—a reminder of the unpredictable nature of his magic.

He shot a nervous glance your way. “I don’t know if we’re gonna make it out of here alive,” he muttered, eyes flicking to Rio, who walked ahead of you both with an air of calm that was unnerving.

You knew the danger of this known but not traverse path. The road had set this trial to test your fear, not just as a being but as someone daring to stand beside the Green Witch herself. Rio’s presence here was both a blessing and a curse. You wanted to prove yourself, to show her that you could face whatever darkness the road threw at you. But every step you took, every risk you embraced, felt like another misstep in her eyes.

“Stay focused,” you hissed under your breath. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and leaves, a testament to the presence of death lurking in every shadow. Rio thrived in this environment, her magic humming with a vibrancy that was both beautiful and terrifying.

You wanted her to see you the way she saw herself—capable, powerful, and unafraid. But no matter what you did, it was never enough.

The memories of past nights with Rio were a whirlwind in your mind.

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet, talk so pretty but your heart got teeth...

Those nights were your sanctuary, where the walls between you both crumbled. She was everything you wanted and feared—her touch was fire, her whispers like venom laced with honey. The bed had become a battleground, a place where your love was tested with every kiss, every desperate plea for her to stay.

You could still feel the ghost of her fingertips tracing patterns on your skin, her voice low and dangerous. “You think you can win me over with this?” she had asked, her breath hot against your ear as her hands tightened around your wrists. “You think I’m yours to control?”

You were never sure if she was truly asking or if it was just another one of her twisted games. But you played along, willing to give her whatever she wanted, even if it meant losing yourself in the process.

The aftermath of those nights always left you breathless, the line between love and hate blurring into something unrecognizable. Yet, despite the uncertainty, you couldn’t let go. You were addicted to the thrill of it, the way she could break you down only to build you back up again with a single touch.

Your mind was pulled back to the blood-soaked memory of your betrayal. The coven members had stood no chance against your beyond earth-fueled magic. You did it all for her, thinking that proving your ruthlessness would finally earn you a place by her side.

But Rio had been horrified. She had walked into the clearing, the scent of iron thick in the air, and looked at you as if you were a stranger.

“Why would you do this?” she demanded, her voice breaking. The playful, sarcastic edge that usually colored her words was gone, replaced with something raw and vulnerable.

“Because I love you,” you had shouted, tears burning in your eyes. “I thought this was what you wanted. I thought—”

“You thought wrong,” Rio interrupted, her eyes flashing with anger. “I never wanted you to become a monster for me. I loved you for who you were, not for what you thought you needed to become. You are life, you give but you can never take.”

Her words cut deeper than any knife. You had done the unthinkable, crossed lines you never imagined, all in the name of love. But instead of winning her heart, you had pushed her further away.

The weight of your actions hung heavy between you, a barrier that no amount of passion could break.

The Witches Road began to twist and warp, the shadows growing longer, almost sentient in their movements. The forest around you seemed to come alive, responding to the rising tension between you and Rio. You could feel the seven's magic, testing the limits of everyone's strength and resolve. Billy kept up, his chaotic magic flaring with nervous energy, but you could tell he was close to breaking. You knew who he was.

Rio remained calm, her steps confident as if she was walking through her own garden rather than a death trap set by the rage-filled witches. Yet, you knew her better than that. You could see the way her fingers tightened around the hilt of her knife, the only sign of her unease.

Sometimes you're a stranger in my bed... don't know if you love me or you want me dead. Those thoughts echoed in your mind as you walked beside her, wondering if this journey was another test, another way for her to see if you could survive the darkness that clung to her like a second skin.

Suddenly, a swarm of cursed roots burst from the ground, aiming to ensnare you. You reacted on instinct, flames bursting from your palms, incinerating the twisted vines before they could reach you.

Rio merely watched, her eyes flicking between you and the chaos unfolding around you. Was she waiting for you to fail? Or was she simply testing you again, pushing you to prove that you were worthy of the power you claimed to have?

“Don’t just stand there, Rio!” Billy shouted, desperation tinging his voice. But Rio merely tilted her head, her eyes locking onto yours.

“Show me what you’ve got,” she whispered, a challenge in her tone. The others looked at her in confusion but kept to themselves.

You didn't hesitate. You unleashed a wave of energy that rippled through the forest, tearing through the darkness like a blade. For a moment, there was silence, a stillness that made your heart pound. Then, slowly, a smile spread across Rio's lips, one that sent a shiver down your spine.

“That’s more like it,” she said, her voice low and dangerous.

The seven's ambush had only strengthened your resolve. But the real battle wasn't with the witches surrounding you—it was with Rio herself.

Push me away, push me away, then beg me to stay, beg me to stay...

It was always like this with her—a constant push and pull that left you breathless, aching for more even when you knew it could destroy you. You turned to her, your chest heaving with exertion and something else, something deeper.

“Is this what you want?” you demanded once the seven disappeared from the road, your voice raw. “To watch me fight, to see if I’m worthy of you? Or are you just waiting for me to fail so you can prove that I’m not enough?”

Rio's eyes flashed, her playful demeanor dropping. For a moment, you saw a glimpse of vulnerability, a crack in the armor she always wore so tightly. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the familiar, teasing smirk that drove you insane.

“You think that's what I want?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re the one who’s always trying to prove something.”

The accusation stung because it was true. You had spent so much time trying to show her that you could match her darkness, that you were worthy of her love, that you had lost sight of who you were in the process.

But there was no time to dwell on it. The ground beneath you rumbled, the forest coming alive with a new wave of attacks. The coven was relentless, determined to crush you both, but you were ready. You fought with everything you had, drawing strength from the anger and frustration that had been building inside you for so long.

And when the dust settled, you were left standing in the wreckage, your chest heaving, your eyes locked onto Rio's.

“Is that enough for you?” you whispered, the question hanging in the air between you like a challenge.

Rio didn't answer. Instead, she stepped forward, closing the distance between you in a single breath. Her lips were on yours before you could react, the kiss searing, filled with all the anger and passion that had been simmering between you for so long.

The scene shifts once again to a hauntingly familiar memory—a bloodied clearing, a rose wilting in your hand. You had done the unspeakable to prove your worth to her, to show that you could embrace the darkness she thrived in. But instead of admiration, all you had found was her disappointment.

Rio had stood there, her eyes like emerald fire, not with pride but with something that felt dangerously close to heartbreak.

“You can’t keep doing this,” she had said, her voice breaking through the haze of adrenaline and regret. “Hurting others just to prove something to me? That’s not who you are. That’s not who I want you to be.”

“But I did it for you,” you had pleaded, desperation coloring your voice. “I thought if I showed you how far I could go...”

Rio had shaken her head, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips, bittersweet and sad. “Oh sweetheart, I never needed you to prove anything. I loved you because you were different, because you're my opposite yet we complete each other.”

Those words had cut deeper than any wound, leaving you to question everything you had done, everything you had become. And now, as you stood on the Witches Road, facing yet another trial, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were still trying to prove yourself, still trying to win her approval.