#but a few friends have expressed an interest

[mapis-putellas]

𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉/𝑨.𝑷𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒔

Spanish is in italics

The night Alexia ended your relationship replayed in your mind more often than you cared to admit. It was supposed to be an ordinary evening, the two of you curled up on the sofa after her training session. But Alexia had been distant, her responses clipped and her gaze avoiding yours. Then she finally said it, her voice steady but her words shaking your entire world: she couldn’t do this anymore.

Her reasons were all logical, rational even. She was too busy, her schedule too demanding, and she felt it wasn’t fair to you. But as much as her reasoning made sense, it didn’t make it hurt any less. Two years of love and memories had been stripped away in a matter of minutes. You’d begged her to reconsider, told her you didn’t need perfection, that you’d wait for her no matter how busy her life got. But Alexia, stubborn and unrelenting, had stood her ground. And just like that, it was over.

The first few weeks were unbearable. You threw yourself into work, trying to ignore the aching hole in your chest. Nights were the hardest. The bed felt too big, the silence too loud, and no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out for her in the dark.

Eventually, you started to put yourself back together, piece by piece. You weren’t healed, not even close, but you refused to let Alexia’s decision consume you. When a friend suggested setting you up on a date, you hesitated at first but eventually agreed. You told yourself it wasn’t about moving on—just an evening out, a distraction from the endless loop of memories that haunted you.

The restaurant was intimate, dimly lit with soft jazz playing in the background. Your date was perfectly nice—kind, funny, and clearly interested in you. But as charming as she was, you couldn’t fully focus. Everything she said or did reminded you of Alexia. The way she brushed her hair behind her ear wasn’t as graceful. Her laugh didn’t have the same warmth. You hated yourself for comparing, but it was impossible not to.

Unbeknownst to you, Mapi and Ingrid were seated a few tables away. Mapi had been mid-conversation with Ingrid when she spotted you. At first, she thought she was mistaken, but the sight of you leaning slightly across the table, smiling at someone who wasn’t Alexia, confirmed it. She froze, her sharp brown eyes narrowing as she tried to process what she was seeing.

By the time the meal was over and you’d stepped outside the restaurant, Mapi was waiting, her posture stiff and her expression thunderous. She barely gave you a chance to react before she stormed up to you.

“What the hell are you doing?” she snapped.

You blinked, startled by her sudden appearance and the hostility in her tone. “Mapi? What are you—?”

“With her?!” Mapi gestured wildly in the direction of the restaurant. “You’re with someone else? What about Alexia?”

Her words stung, a sharp reminder of everything you were trying to move past. Your initial confusion gave way to defensiveness, and you crossed your arms, meeting her glare head-on. “She broke up with me, Mapi. Over a month ago. You didn’t know?”

Mapi’s anger faltered, her brows knitting together as the realisation sank in. “What?” she asked, her voice quieter now, laced with disbelief.

“She ended it,” you repeated, your voice cracking slightly. “She said she didn’t have time for a relationship. She said it wasn’t fair to me. So, yeah, I’m on a date because she decided I wasn’t worth it.”

Mapi’s jaw tightened, her anger now directed elsewhere. “She didn’t tell me. She never said anything.”

You shrugged, your shoulders sagging. “Well, now you know. Can I go now? I’d really rather not have this conversation in the middle of the street.”

Mapi didn’t respond immediately. She was too busy trying to piece together everything you’d just told her. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

You nodded stiffly, brushing past her without another word.

Mapi didn’t waste any time confronting Alexia. When she showed up at Alexia’s apartment later that night, she didn’t bother knocking—she stormed right in, finding Alexia on the sofa with her head in her hands. She looked up in surprise, her eyes wide as Mapi launched into a tirade.

“How could you not tell me?” Mapi demanded, her voice sharp. “You broke up with her and didn’t think to mention it? I just yelled at her in the middle of the street!”

Alexia’s face crumpled. “I couldn’t,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “It was too hard to even think about it, let alone talk about it.”

Mapi’s anger softened slightly, but her frustration remained. “You need to fix this, Alexia. Do you know where I saw her tonight? Where I yelled at her? On a date. With someone else.”

Alexia’s breath hitched, vision swimming with tears as her hands grip the edge of the sofa. “She was… on a date?”

“Yes,” Mapi confirmed. “And you have no one to blame but yourself. You pushed her away, and now she’s moving on.”

Alexia buried her face in her hands, her shoulders trembling. “I didn’t want to hurt her. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Mapi’s tone softened, but her words were firm. “You love her, don’t you?”

Alexia nodded, her voice breaking as she said, “More than anything.”

“Then fight for her,” Mapi said simply.

*

When Alexia finally showed up at your door, she looked nothing like the composed, confident woman the world knew. Her hair was dishevelled, hidden under a baseball cap. Her eyes were red-rimmed from both the tears and lack of sleep, and she was clutching a bouquet of your favourite flowers like it was her last lifeline.

When you opened the door and saw her standing there, your heart skipped a beat. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then Alexia broke the silence, her voice trembling as she said, “I made a mistake.”

You wanted to slam the door in her face, to protect yourself from the pain of letting her back in. But the vulnerability in her eyes held you in place.

“I was scared,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “I thought…I could not give you what you deserve, that I only hurt you by keeping you in my life. But I was wrong. I know it. Please…I want to explain.”

Without a word, you stepped aside, letting her in.

Her movements were hesitant, her eyes scanning the space she hadn’t seen in over a month, yet still felt so much like hers. She stood near the door, awkward and unsure, her fingers fiddling the flowers in her grasp, her thumb rubbing over the plastic wrapping in a nervous rhythm.

You closed the door behind her, your back leaning against it for support. It was hard to reconcile the Alexia who had walked away from you with the one now standing in your living room, looking so lost. Her mouth opened as if to speak, but she faltered, exhaling sharply as she looked down at her feet.

“Sit,” you said, your voice low and firm. You gestured to the sofa. She nodded, grateful for the direction, and slowly lowered herself onto the edge of the cushion, setting the flowers down onto the coffee table. She didn’t sink back like she once would have, her posture remaining stiff, as though the act of relaxing was too much to allow herself.

You stayed standing, arms crossed, creating a physical barrier between the two of you. “Say what you came here to say,” you said, keeping your tone steady even though your chest ached.

Alexia’s eyes darted up to meet yours, wide and glassy. “I…” She paused, frustration flashing across her face as she struggled to find the right words in English. “Lo siento,” she said finally, voice thick with emotion. “I—sorry. Sorry por todo.”

“That’s it?” you asked, your voice laced with disbelief. “You break my heart, disappear for weeks, and now you just say sorry?”

Her jaw tightened, and she shook her head quickly. “No, no! Not just…sorry.” She pressed her hand to her chest as if trying to pull the words from her heart. “I need…to explain. To tell you. But my English…”

“Try,” you said sharply, your arms dropping to your sides. “You didn’t care about your English when you decided to leave me. So try now.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she nodded her head. “I…I was scared,” she began haltingly, her accent heavier than usual. “Of…failing you. Of hurting you.” She clenched her fists, her knuckles white. “My life is…busy. Always. Football, travel, media…no time for you. I think…you deserve more.”

“More?” you prompted, your tone softening slightly.

She nodded quickly. “Yes. More. Someone who…who is here. Always. Not…far. Not…missing things.” She rubbed her temple, groaning softly in frustration. “I can’t say it…right.”

“You’re saying it fine,” you replied. “You thought you weren’t enough for me?”

Alexia’s head snapped up, her eyes locking onto yours, shiny with tears. “Yes,” she said, her voice trembling. “Not enough. Never enough. And I was…scared. So I think…leave you before…you hate me.”

You stared at her for a second before shaking your head. “You didn’t even give me a choice,” you said, your voice cracking. “You decided for me, Alexia. You took away my say in our relationship.”

Her face crumpled, and she pressed her hands to her temples, visibly frustrated with herself. “I know. I know,” she said, slipping back into Spanish as the words tumbled out faster than she could control. “I’m an idiot. I didn’t think about you, about how you would feel. I only thought about my own fear, my own insecurity. And now... now I’m here, begging you, because I can’t lose you. I don’t want to lose you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them back, determined not to break so easily. “If you’re so afraid of losing me,” you said, your voice quieter now, “why did it take you so long to come back?”

“Because I’m a coward,” she admitted. “Coward. I think…maybe you are better without me. But then… Mapi…she tell me…you are on a date.” Her voice wavered, and her hands dropped to her lap as she looked at you with so much raw vulnerability it was almost unbearable. “And I know…I can’t. I can’t let you go. Even if I don’t deserve you, I need you.”

The room fell silent, her words hanging in the air like a fragile thread. You moved closer, your feet carrying you to the edge of the coffee table. “Do you know what it’s been like for me?” you asked, not wanting to further the obvious guilt she was feeling, but needing her to know just what her actions had caused. “Trying to move on when I still love you? Trying to convince myself that I’ll be okay when all I want is you?”

Her eyes filled with tears, one slipping free and tracing a line down her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again, her voice breaking. “I don’t know how to fix it. But I want to try. Please…let me try.”

You sank down onto the coffee table, your knees brushing hers. “I don’t know if I can trust you not to leave again,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

She reached out, her hand trembling as she gently took yours. Her touch was warm, grounding, and so achingly familiar. “I will not leave,” she said firmly, her eyes locking onto yours. “Never again. I promise. I swear…siempre.”

Siempre. Always. It was the word you’d whispered to each other late at night, the promise you’d clung to when things were hard. And now, here she was, offering it back to you.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, tears now spilling freely down your cheeks. “I don’t know if I can go through this again.”

Alexia’s grip on your hand tightened, her other hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I’m scared too,” she said, her voice shaking but resolute. “But I will do everything to show you. To prove… you can trust me. I love you. More than anything. More than anything.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into her touch as your tears fell onto her hand. She tenderly wiped them away with her thumb. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft hitch of your breaths until slowly, you opened your eyes, meeting her gaze.

“You broke my heart,” you said, your voice wavering. “But I still love you.”

A quiet sob escaped her lips as she pressed her forehead to yours. “I will fix it,” she choked out. “I will fix us.”

It wasn’t a promise you believed easily, but in that moment, you knew you wanted to give her the chance to try. Always.

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @ktgoodmorning @chelseacult

[4vanaa]

—02 MEET THE MAYBANKS.

MASTERLIST

Parenting Style:

Kiara (Kie):

⌗ kie is the more structured and responsible parent. she’s the one who emphasizes the importance of education, healthy habits, and emotional intelligence. she balances jj’s wildness by providing stability and routine for their kids.

⌗ kie’s biggest challenge is keeping jj in line (and sometimes herself, when his wild ideas sound too fun to pass up). but at the end of the day, she believes in fostering independence, freedom, and exploration, even if it’s messy.

⌗ she's big on encouraging her kids to be passionate about causes they care about, whether it's environmental activism, volunteer work, or just standing up for what’s right. kie often takes them on nature hikes, environmental clean-ups, and community service projects.

⌗ kie’s methods are a mix of tough love and encouragement. she always explains the reasoning behind rules and lets her kids express their opinions.

JJ:

⌗ jj is the fun dad—the one who wants his kids to live in the moment, break a few rules, and embrace the adventure. he’s incredibly spontaneous and often makes up rules as he goes. his approach to parenting is less about structure and more about experiences—giving his kids the freedom to make mistakes, learn, and laugh.

⌗ jj’s biggest flaw is that he can sometimes act before thinking, which leads to chaotic situations. he’s the one who suggests spontaneous road trips, sneaky pranks, and pushing the limits of what’s “acceptable.” his fun, carefree energy is infectious, but it’s also a challenge for kie, who has to reign him in at times.

⌗ he’s great at making memories, and his kids know that when jj’s around, there’s no shortage of fun. he’s the dad who’ll take them surfing at sunrise or let them stay up late watching movies (while eating way too many snacks).

The Kids:

KAI MAYBANK (16)

PERSONALITY kai is the perfect mix of jj’s carefree attitude and kiara’s underlying seriousness. as a teenager, he’s confident, outgoing, and always seeking new experiences, whether it’s a wild surfing competition or a community protest. he is known for being a bit of a rebel, especially when it comes to authority figures, but deep down, he’s incredibly loyal and protective of his family.

RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS DAD kai shares a very close bond with jj and often gets into trouble with him, whether it’s sneaking out to do something adventurous or taking on crazy dares. jj treats him more like a “partner in crime” than a child, which is something that both frustrates and excites kai.

RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS MOM he loves kie, but his relationship with her is often marked by the classic teenage rebellion. kai knows his mom will always have his best interests at heart, but he can’t help but test her limits. kie provides the structure he needs, but it’s hard for kai to always see it as helpful rather than restrictive.

FUN FACT kai has a secret soft side and often finds himself emotionally grounded by kie when the world feels too chaotic. he has a lot of respect for her, even if he doesn’t always show it.

MAYA MAYBANK (12)

PERSONALITY maya is the adventurous spirit in the family, always up for a new challenge but with a slight edge of pragmatism (thanks to kie). she’s incredibly resourceful, often finding solutions to problems in unique and surprising ways. maya is outgoing and has no fear when it comes to making new friends or starting bold ideas.

RELATIONSHIP WITH HER DAD maya has an almost identical energy to jj, always getting caught up in his spontaneous adventures and pushing the boundaries of what’s considered “safe.” she’s often jj’s co-conspirator when it comes to pranks, daring feats, and making memories that her mom would rather not hear about.

RELATIONSHIP WITH HER MOM while kie tries to keep her in check, maya and kie often team up to keep things grounded. kie teaches her the value of patience and planning, but maya’s rebellious side still comes out in moments of high energy.

FUN FACT maya loves experimenting with new foods and takes after kie’s love for cooking. she has a growing obsession with plant-based recipes, which she often tries to sneak past jj, who, of course, always ends up eating it all.

JAX MAYBANK (7)

PERSONALITY jax is the wild, quirky younger child who often surprises everyone with how much mischief he can get into, despite being the youngest. he’s always asking questions, testing boundaries, and trying to keep up with his older siblings (especially maya, who is his partner in crime). he has a huge imagination and can come up with wild scenarios that leave everyone laughing or shaking their heads.

RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS DAD jj is a total softie with jax, often spoiling him with treats or letting him stay up late to hang out. jax knows how to melt jj’s heart, and jj is constantly amazed by how funny and clever jax is.

RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS MOM kie is the one who teaches jax the fundamentals of patience and responsibility. she encourages him to take his time with things, but jax is the kid who’d rather jump into things headfirst. kie has to be constantly vigilant to keep him from doing something reckless (though sometimes she secretly enjoys his wild ideas).

FUN FACT jax is always the first one to drag jj into spontaneous (and often messy) activities, like building an elaborate fort in the living room or setting up an obstacle course in the backyard.

FAMILY DYNAMICS

KIE AND JJ have a great balance when it comes to managing their family. while jj’s constant enthusiasm and wild ideas create a chaotic atmosphere, kie brings a sense of calm and practicality to keep things grounded. there’s a lot of laughter in their house, but kie’s eye for detail and organization ensures things don’t go too far off-track.

FAMILY CONVERSATIONS ARE OFTEN a mix of spontaneous planning (thanks to jj) and debates over the best course of action (led by kid). jj always tries to convince the family to go on a last-minute trip or take on a new adventure, while kie ensures they have the right supplies and that everyone’s prepared.

JJ IS THE COOL DAD who always encourages his kids to have fun and not worry too much about rules. he’s the one who’ll suggest they skip school for the day to go on a surf trip or sneak them into a late-night movie. he wants his kids to live life to the fullest, but sometimes his lack of boundaries leads to hilarious or sticky situations.

KIE HAS A STRONG moral compass and teaches her kids the value of hard work, empathy, and responsibility. she encourages her children to find their own path, but always keeps them connected to the community and the world around them.

KIE AND MAYA END UP cooking a huge family dinner together, while jj and jax try to “help” but mostly end up causing chaos in the kitchen.

a/n: meet the routledges out at 11pm tonight??!! maybe we’ll see…meet the heywards + meet the thorntons tomorrow at 8/9 pm est.

🏷️: @rafecameronswifeyy @papercranesandinkstains @delicatevamps @sereneera @ethanthequeefqueen @zuccheromorena @theanonymousloser @chalahyung01 @mystic-megumi @acidfeens @judesgfirl @rubiehart @callieyanderechan @amterasuu @smithieandy @theeternaloptimistt @marleymarleymarleymarley @akobx @lilygrxcem @fieryghxul @aias-fxtns @starkeysbaby @brxght-world @drewsswifeyy @luvelola @atjlovverr @justsomerandompersonintheworld @totalswag @yesshewrites1 @starsmoonn

[cherry-coffees]

Silk Ribbons and Captured Hearts

Caitlyn x girly girl!reader

cw: 2K words | no warnings, just Caitlyn and her lovely femme <3

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

Caitlyn is infatuated with you.

Your relationship with Caitlyn is somewhere on the line between acquaintances and friends, running in the same high circles. Your family, much like the Kirammans, is respected and known within Piltover. You've met Caitlyn on many occasions: galas, banquets, other fancy events your parents had dragged you to. 

Most of your time spent together had come from conversing casually at events, or during council meetings whenever you both had been waiting for your parents to finish their work. You’re a few years younger than Caitlyn, so she had offered to help you with any work you had been doing at Piltover Academy. You were a good student as well, matching her intellect. Caitlyn, despite trying to focus on your homework, would find her gaze drawn to you. Watching your eyes light up whenever you talked about something you were interested in, a small, unconscious smile gracing your lips, had easily captivated her.

That was when you were both younger, though. Now, she can't help but take notice of the beautiful woman you had become. All short skirts and fitted tops, sundresses and carefully chosen accessories, you’re like a warm sunbeam that Caitlyn can’t draw her eyes away from. 

It all starts with Caitlyn going shopping in the main streets of Piltover, and she steps into a local boutique filled with cute clothes and handmade jewelry. It's not really her style, but her eyes catch on a stand filled with silk ribbon, and it reminds her of the ribbons you occasionally wear in your hair. And oh, you'd just look so pretty in that shade of purple and-

She leaves with three of them.

A few days later, you’re at a statue unveiling of some old general in Piltover’s army, and Caitlyn sees you again. And fuck you just look so pretty in your white maxi skirt and cropped tank that shows off just a hint of midriff, and Caitlyn can’t stop staring. She finally gets herself together, glancing down at the lavender silk ribbon in her hand. Should she give it to you now? Should she wait? What if you didn’t like it? Worse, what if you don’t like her even after figuring out she’s smitten with you?

Caitlyn immediately clams up, deciding it’s better to give it to you anonymously. She darts off to the area where everyone’s bags and coats are under the guise of finding something she had forgotten in her bag. Once there, she grabs a notepad from her own bag and writes a note:

I thought this would look lovely on you. 

Yours,

Anonymous 

After attaching it to the ribbon and quietly slipping back into the crowd, Caitlyn can’t really focus on the ceremony. She tries, she really does, but the sound of your casual laughter in conversation unwillingly draws her attention. She also tries not to eye you when you politely make conversation with Caitlyn’s own parents, but, well, she’s long since given up on that one. Maybe she’ll have better self-control in the future.

______

Any thoughts of self-control die the moment you step into the coffee shop where Caitlyn is sitting with Jayce. Because you’re just so beautiful, wearing some lavender sundress and sandals and holy shit is that-?

Caitlyn’s mouth goes dry at the sight of the silky lavender ribbon in your hair — the one she had bought for you — tied around two pigtails hold your hair half-up. She can’t tear her eyes away, even as you step up to order and smile brightly at the barista. So much so that Jayce turns around to see what she’s looking at before turning back to her with a puzzled expression. “Uh, Cait? You good?”

She snaps her jaw shut, nodding tightly. “Yeah,” she lets her eyes linger on you for a second longer. “Everything’s perfectly fine.”

Jayce glances in your direction once again before a knowing smile dawns on his face. “Oh,” he turns back to Caitlyn, eyes smug and teasing. “You like-"

“Shut up,” Caitlyn hisses, glaring deeply at him, half because she doesn’t want you to overhear this and half because she doesn’t want Jayce to have another thing to hold over her. 

Jayce just raises his eyebrows, taking a sip of tea as if waiting for her to explain.

Caitlyn just sighs, glancing down at her own pristine teacup. “I- how can I not?” She mumbles, glancing at you. “She’s, well…perfect.”

________

And because you just had to go and look so ridiculously, effortlessly, beyond gorgeous in the lavender ribbon, of course Caitlyn has to go and buy five other colors. Because who is Caitlyn if not willing to spend her seemingly endless amounts of money on the little things her love crush likes. A tiny part of her also preens at seeing you so happy to wear something she gave you, as if she’s subtly showing everyone that you’re hers. But she’d never admit to that, of course.

And every time she manages to slip you a ribbon, she leaves another tiny note.

These suit you so much, I thought it would be a shame not to have more.

I think this color will look so nice with your hair.

Please take these ribbons as my way of telling you how beautiful you are.

Your ribbon collection continues to build: baby pink, forest green, crimson red, the lightest grey that reminds you of clouds on a cozy winter morning. You smile every time you find a new one in your bag, keeping the notes safely tucked away in a small box in your closet. You read them from time to time, gently tracing a finger over the words as if you can feel the affection they convey. 

Experimentally, with all this ribbon, you don’t confine it to just your hair. You tie it around your ankle, thinking it looks cute (Caitlyn agrees, smiles way too long when she sees it on you in passing). Then, around your wrists: a pair of bows. And when you show up at her house to drop off something from your family to the Kirammans, Caitlyn’s eyes go wide when she catches sight of the ribbon carefully tied around your upper thigh — just peeking out from the short skirt you’re wearing. 

Holy fucking shit is all Caitlyn manages to register in her mind. She doesn’t pay attention to whatever you’re talking about with her mother. She just pays attention to the gift she gave you, a symbol of her, tied around your thigh. She’s highly tempted to step forward and grab the end of it, untying it just to replace it with her hand and squeeze-

Pull yourself together.

And she does, barely. Manages to mumble out a few weak words as you depart, missing the smug smile that graces your features as you turn to leave. Misses the way you turn a little faster than necessary so your skirt spins and she gets another view of the ribbon wrapped around your thigh. You leave, Cassandra goes on with her business, and all is normal again.

You’re a strong presence in Caitlyn’s dreams that night.

______

And then one day, there’s a knock on Caitlyn’s office door, and she calls an official-sounding “come in” only for you to enter. Caitlyn stands up a little too quickly, clearing her throat and straightening her uniform. She moves out from behind her desk to face you. “This is- uh- a surprise,” Caitlyn murmurs, eyes flitting to the navy blue ribbon laced through your high ponytail, your hair half up. She’s sure she hasn’t bought you a navy ribbon yet.

“My father sent me to ask if the gala for your mother’s birthday next week will still be in your ballroom?” You ask, shifting nervously. It’s a simple question, one that you don’t really need an answer to.

Luckily, Caitlyn is too distracted to notice. She just blinks, forcing her mouth to move. “Um, right. Yes, it’s going to be held there.”

You nod, your eyes locked with her piercing blue ones. “Okay. Yeah. Sorry for the interruption, I just happened to be nearby and he, uh, wanted to know.”

Even still, Caitlyn only half registers your weak excuse. Her eyes narrow at the ribbon. It’s different than the silky ones she’s bought you: thinner and less shiny. So, instead of formulating one of her usual, sensible responses to you, she can’t help but let her curiosity spill out. “Your ribbon.”

“My-" you touch your hair lightly. “My ribbon?”

“Where is it from?” She asks, flatly. For the past weeks, the only ribbon you've been wearing has been the ones she's been giving you. Was this an old one of yours? Did you buy it recently? Or is it from someone else? Something in her chest tightens at the last idea.

She’s not prepared for the smile you flash her. “Well” you sigh, tilting your head a little as if the answer is obvious. “I thought that since my anonymous gifter keeps buying me ribbon, I should have one in her color.”

…

Wait.

It takes a second of blank staring before Caitlyn’s jaw drops. “You-" she stumbles in her wording — an extremely rare occasion she’s been taught to avoid. But all her composure is lost with you.

“Me,” your smile holds a hint of satisfaction that Caitlyn kind of just wants to scream at. Or kiss off your face. Either one.

“You knew?!” Her tone is incredulous, like she’s been so secretive that she can’t conceive how you found out she was the one gifting you these ribbons. “How?!”

“First of all, I know your handwriting. Remember how you gave me corrections on my schoolwork when we were younger and our parents had council meetings?”

“I-" Caitlyn stutters, a hue of pink dusting her cheeks. 

“And second,” you continue, not quite done. “You haven’t been very subtle about it. You seem to forget something in your bag at every event we’re at together, and then the ribbon happens to appear in mine after you come back.”

Caitlyn’s quiet for a few moments. “Oh.”

You smile. "Yeah, oh."

Caitlyn's blue eyes meet your own, devoid of her usual composure to show her slight nerves. "So...?" her voice is almost anxious.

"So," you repeat, gently reaching up to touch the navy ribbon in your hair again. The one that perfectly matches her navy Enforcer's uniform she's wearing right now. "I wore this...for you."

Caitlyn takes a shaky breath, heart pounding. "Does that mean-?"

She's cut off by your soft lips against her own. Your kiss is gentle and chaste, just a peck, and she barely has enough time to process what's happening before you pull away. "I like you," you say, your smile turning shy.

Caitlyn blinks at you, dazed. She's normally always so in command, so in control of her every action — whether that's in her Enforcer duties or her sharpshooting competitions or just her life in general — but with you, all hope of control always seems to fade. 

She steps even closer to you, gently reaching out a hand to trail along your cheek. "I like you too," she murmurs, and this time, you fear you're the one that's losing your composure because her gaze looks so loving and tender that it makes your cheeks burn. 

And when Caitlyn kisses you again, deeper this time, you allow yourself to sigh against her lips. She kisses you as if you're something fragile, something to be treasured and cared for. And you know, in that moment, that she'll do anything for you.  That, if you asked for the moon, she'd personally find away to fly amongst the stars to take it for you. 

"Are you mine?" Caitlyn asks the second she pulls away with a gentle nip to your bottom lip that makes you shiver. 

"I always have been," you mumble, letting yourself bury your face in her shoulder to hide your flushed cheeks. 

And Caitlyn just smiles, her arms snaking around your waist to pull you against her chest. "That's all I could ever ask for, darling."

[littlxpxtal]

The Beach

TYRANTS || STORY MASTERLIST

PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem!reader

WARNINGS: MDNI 18+ Content, swearing, sexual content, drug and alcohol use, violence

WORD COUNT: 3k

If I told you that I loved you

Tell me, what would you say?

If I told you that I hated you

Would you go away?

Now I need your help with everything that I do

I don't want to lie, I've been relying on you

Fallin' again

I need a pick-me-up

I've been callin' you "friend,"

I might need to give it up

April

Fuck you

I hover my thumb over the send button for a long breath. When I exhale, I press send, click my phone off and toss it onto my bed. It lands face down.

I walk over to my bathroom, shutting the door behind me and striping down.

The pogues went back to the cut, sending JJ off into the swamp lands with a backpack full of food and camping gear. We are hoping in the next few days we can figure something out to make sure he can come back home safely.

While I shower, I think of all the new information I learned about the mission, and how getting the rest of the gold out was the next goal, but they would have to do it very strategically.

My mind wanders to rafe for a second, and I wonder if he’s back from his trip. Then I remember I hate him, and don’t want to hear back from him. I think about how after my shower, i'm going to block him. I should’ve done that after sending the message anyways.

I’m not entirely sure why it took me so long to send it. I drafted that text the same night JJ and I talked about rafe. I think it just took me a bit of time to finally be able to let go, and let him know I refuse to be treated like this.

There was a small part of me that hoped he already blocked me, so he wouldn’t even see the message from me.

Tomorrow is the last day of spring break, and my family will be back on the outbreaks by nightfall. I think about how I’ll try my best to be asleep by the time they get back tomorrow so I can avoid any questions.

The pogues helped me clean everything, washed bed sheets and dishes, took out the trash and wiped everything down. There was no trace of life in the house, not even from me.

I make mental to do lists of what I still need to do before graduation, what i should wear to school this week, and what color to polish my nails. My mind wanders and runs a million miles a minute as I step out of the shower, ringing my hair into the towel, and plopping it on top of my head. I lotion my body and face up, then wrap myself in a robe.

When I walk out of my bathroom, a shriek spaces my lips.

Rafe is sitting on the edge of my bed, and he’s playing with one of the trinkets from my book shelf.

“What’re you-“ I hold on tightly to the doorknob, ready to run back into the bathroom if needed. I couldn’t read his expression at all.

“You shouldn’t leave the door that leads from the outside, directly into your bedroom, unlocked. Especially when you’re home alone.” He says coyly.

“I think we are privileged enough to know that we don’t really have to worry about those kinds of things here on figure 8, now do we?” I tilt my head, and take in his presence. He’s wearing a hoodie with the hood up. His eyes are on my body, wrapped up in a silk sobe.

“Why are you texting me all crazy like that for, hm?” His eyes finally flicker up to meet mine. They are cold and hard. I glance over to scan my room, find anything to pique my interest enough to not give into the urge to look back at him. My heartbeat raced and I felt my mouth get drier by the second.

“I had been wanting to say it for days, but I figured it would be best if I waited until you were done with your trip so I didnt bother you.’ he scoffs and stands up, taking a step towards me. I responded with a small step backwards, my breath hitching in my throat.

“You think some text behind a screen would’ve ruined my trip? You think saying “fuck you” to me, is something I would get worked up about?”

my lips trembles, my body is reacting in a way as if im getting scolded, or reprimanded for speaking back to an adult.

I don’t speak, my body freezes and he takes another step towards me, his head dipping down.

“You think I care about the fact that you helped hide maybank here at your house?” I hyelped, and my hands trembled. I looked down at the ground, and he’s finally close enough where I can smell his cologne.

He hooks his finger under my chin, and I flinch. My back is pressed against the doorframe, and he leans forward, pushing my chin up, and y eyes meet his,

“Cat got your tongue?” He coos, his eyes look manic, and there’s a slight tremor in his hand.

“I think you do care. And it would’ve ruined your trip.” I finally croak out, letting out the breath I had been holding.

“And I mean it. Fuck you rafe. Fuck you and the mind games you play with me. Your not even my boyfriend and you like to control everything, and if i'm not doing something you Like, you use move onto another one of your girls. Like im disposable, like i dont matter. And I know i Fucking matter to you.”

I dont really mean to say the last part, but it came out anyways. I was just being honest.

He doesn’t respond for a while so we stand in silence, and he stares down at me, his finger still holding under my chin.

He leans down and presses a soft kiss to my lips. I dont object, but I dont open my mouth for more.

“You dont mean it” his whispers, his lips brushing against mine.

“Yes i do” I mumble, my brain getting light from the feeling he brought in my mind.

his other hands reach up and trailing down the valley of my chest against the robe. His fingers make it down to where the rob is tied, and he glances up with a smirk.

“Tell me, y/n, did you finally sleep with him? Did you get back at me?” He hot breath fans against my chest, and he lowers on his knees, slowly pulling open the tied pieces of my robe.

”What Don't you get about the fact that JJ and I don't do that. Never have and never will.” I try my best to pretend I am unaffected by the way his fingers trail up my inner thigh, right to the line of my robe, barely hanging open. His lips press right below my naval, and a whimper escapes my lips.

“It would’ve ruined my trip” he whispers, using his hands to open my legs, I press harder against the wall, the towel on my head finally dropping to the ground, I pull my wet hair to one side, looking down at rafe. His pupils are blown, his bottom lip between his teeth, waiting for my response.

“I know it would’ve” I say with a smirk.

”you give me a constant headache” he grumbles, pressing another kiss to the inside of my thigh.

”You Make this whole thing so hard. Would be easier if you just stopped overreacting” I retaliate, bending my knees slightly, opening up my thighs more. He grips my hips and Iicks a strip up my slit.

“Wheres the fun in that?” He says with a chuckle before diving in, suckling on my clit, his fingers burned deep into my hips. I moaned out in pleasure, my hands entangling themselves in his hair.

He hums with pleasure against my heat, and I find myself panting, my head hung low, bottom lip between my teeth.

“So did you fuck her again?” I ask, hissing as he sucks hard on my clit in response.

“Nah” he responds quickly, before his mouth attaches back to my folds, his tongue lapping up and down rhythmically.

I whimper a few times, and he looks up to my eye contact with me.

“You’re easy to piss off” he says against my pussy.

”sounds like you do it on purpose” I groan and bcuck my hips against his face. He releases his mouth, its covered in my slick, and his eyes are still blown out. His right hand trails down, and he runs two fingers between my folds, pushing into my hole, just teasing it slightly. I breath out heavily and he smirks.

“You’re fun to play with” he drawls out, his eyes focuses on the way his fingers are sliding into and out, deeper with each pump. My legs start to shake as he curls his fingers inside. Once they are fully inside , he quickens his pace, the silence in the room filled with the wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of me.

“‘M not a fucking toy” I grit out, pulling his hard harder, squeezing my eyes shut as I feel myself reaching my peak. He doesn’t respond, and instead brings his mouth back up to my clit, flicking it with his tongue, swirling around in circles, clockwise then counterclockwise.

“Fuckkkkk” I groan out, seeing white behind my closed lids. I cum all over rafes face. I dont get to ride it very long, before he’s dragging me over to the bed, and pushing my face down, ass up. He pulls the robe full off my body, and presses my face down into the pillows, I feel himself line his cock up with my entrance, and he pushes in.

”Rafe” I groan, holding out the sheets with all my might. I finish riding out my high as he pounds into me from behind, his hands gripped on both sides of my hips.

Profanities slip from his mouth, accompanied with a few whimpers of my name.

I gain enough strength to push my self up, so im in tabletop position, while he still pumps in and out of me. I turn my head and look back to see the hoods of his eyes are hanging low, his jaw is slack, his tongue peaking out the side, and drips of sweat are beading on his forehead. A whimper erupts from his mouth, and he grunts after, his eyes snapping open to meet mine, as if he sensed me looking at him.

“This what you wanted? Huh?” I bat my lashes innocently and bit my bottom lip.

”Wanted to piss me off so much I just had to come over and fuck you just to get you to shut the fuck up? Huh pretty girl?” My eyes roll back and my head hangs down. He’s tsks his tongue, leaning forward, one hand gripped tightly on my hips, the other gathers my hair in his fist, and he yanks me back, my shoulders pressing up against his chest. He cocks his fist down to the right, angling my head up and back to look up at him. His pace hasn’t faltered once, and the continuing sound of my pussy squelching against his throbbing cock is only getting louder, I can no longer contain my moans, and I squeeze my eyes shut as they spill out of my mouth. He takes this opportunity of my open my mouth to spit in it. My eyes shoot open, and we hold eye contact for a second before I swallow and he smiles.

“All you have to do is ask nicely you know?” His grip on my hair still tight, and his dick is ramming into my harder than before.

“That doesn’t sound like something I’d do.” I whisper, looking deep into his eyes. His smile never faulters, and he leans down and kisses me.

“Don’t ever say that shit to me again” he says, breathing into my mouth, his eyes shut, still pounding relentless into me.

“What? Oh, Fuck you” I whimper out. Everything happens so quickly.

His eyes snap open and they darken, he lets go of my hair, pushing me down by my shoulder too the bed.

”Don’t.” He gives my ass a hard slap, making me yelp out.

”Ever” he pulls his dick out, and grabs my hips, flipping me onto my back.

”fucking” he pushing my legs open, and wraps them around his hips.

”say that” his right hand reaches up and wraps around my throat, putting just enough pressure.

”again” he growls the last word before ramming himself into me.

I lift my head up and attach my mouth on his shoulder, sucking harshly to cover the moans I wanted to scream out. His head rests against mine, and he grunts.

“You gonna be a good girl for me now?” He breathes out heavily, and looks down at me. We make eye contact and I pout, refusing to give in. His hand is still on my throat, and he gives it a squeeze. I groan in response, shutting my eyes.

“Look at me” he commands. My eyes flutter open and he has a smirk on his face.

“I’ll only be a good girl if you promise to stop fucking other girls”

His hips stutter a second before he completely stops. The grip on my throat is released,and he pushes himself up on both hands, hovering over me, my legs still tightly wrapped around his hips.

“Is that what you really want?” He asks sincerely.

I wiggle my hips to try and get him to keep going, but he doesn’t budge.

“I dunno. Can we just keep fucking?” I please, grabbing onto his bicep and reaching up to kiss his neck.

“Sure” he whispers before thrusting again.

We dont say anything the rest of the time, until Rafe is about to cum.

”’m close”

”Not inside me” I protest.

”Fucking duh” he grumbles into my neck before pulling out and finishing on my stomach. He immediately stands up, grabs a tissue and starts cleaning me off.

Once he’s done, he passes me my robe, and he puts his clothes back on.

“Well, are we like good now?” He asks, checking his pockets for his wallet and keys.

”Yea, we always were”

”Right” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Im just gonna” he points towards the door he snuck through. I nod my head in understanding, and watch him leave. I turned off my bedside lamp, and laid in silence.

My moment of self loathing was interrupting by my phone ringing.

Sabrina

I answer immediately

“Sab?” I say into the phone, sitting up.

”Y/N, you need to get down to the beach right now. Like NOW”

I furrow my brow, take my phone from my ear to check the time. I was 9:27pm

”I dont know Sab I was about to go to bed honestly.”

”Bitch, it’s the last night of spring break. And mostly everyone is back, and we’re partying on the beach. Get here NOW” she yells the last part into the phone before hanging up. I hurriedly pack a bag with miscellaneous illegal items, slip on a hoodie and shorts then run out the door. I check Sabrina’s location to see where on the beach she was, and it was decently close for me to make it on foot.

When I arrive, I see a mix of faces, those I get along with, and those who I simply pretend dont exist on a regular basis. Before Sabrina sees me, I catch a glimpse of rafe. He’s taking a drag of a cig while Kelce talks to him and Topper. Topper looks semi interested, while rafe looks like he couldn’t care less. His face looks angry and hard. And hot. Like. Really fucking hot.

Before I could analyze his face more, Sabrina yells out my name, and his head whips in my direction. I look away before our eyes meet, and smile when they land on Sabrina.

“Hi baby, I missed you” she cried out, standing up to greet me with a hug. She’s sitting on a towel that topper brought. I smile down at them and look around to see where I can set up. Conveniently, there’s a spot next to rafe in between him and some random kook.

“Why dont you go sit by rafe and cheer him up a bit. He’s in one of his moods.” Topper jokes, nudging his head over. I give a fake smile and trudge over, laying my towel down without acknowledging him.

When I sit down, he gives me a Look.

“What? We’re you saving this for someone?” I say with a smirk. He gives me a fake smile, and laugh then rolls his eyes.

I pul out the bottle of wine I stole from my parents bar and take a big gulp. I hand it out to him, and he takes it, drinking a small mouthful before passing it back.

We get along cordially, mainly because we dot actually talk to each other. We just silently pass the bottle back and forth between each other, while people chatter among us.

When the night gets late, and everyone starts slowly leaving the beach, it ends up just me and rafe, my head laying on his lap, staring at the stars as he stroked my hair and looked out into the ocean.

”This is nice” he mumbles. I nod my head in agreement and he looks down.

His face is sad, and his eyes are brimmed with tears.

“Y/N, I dont think I can be the person you need.” He whispers, and a tear slips down from his face and lands on my cheek. He wipes it away then looks back out into the ocean.

“Could you try?” I as. My face is hot and flushed from the alcohol, and I was probably going to say something I would later regret. But i don't care. I wanted him to want to try for me.

“You might have to teach me”

“Okay” I whisper. “Rafe?”

”Yes, Y/N?”

”Can you take me home? And will you stay with me?” He smiles.

“Of course”

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tags: @ltristessedureratoujours @davinashifts333 @tomholland792

[grenadehearts]

kacchako x reader

(in a challengers way)

warnings: 18+ content, female reader, porn w plot, aged up characters

word count: 5.8k

authors note: this was a commission for the lovely @bakugousarmpitsweat, emergency comms open!!

Pro heroes Dynamight and Uravity—better known as Katsuki Bakugo and Ochako Uraraka—have been working together for years. Their ship name, "Kacchako," trends online more often than they care to admit. Fans speculate endlessly about their "undeniable chemistry," despite the fact that they’re strictly friends—or, more accurately, friends bound by a shared professional goal and an unspoken tension that lingers between them.

At least, that's what they tell themselves.

For Katsuki, that tension manifests in his tightened pants every time his mind drifts to the thought of your soft, pink lips wrapped around his tip, leaving him on edge. Meanwhile, Ochako finds herself struggling to focus, her core pulsing with need as she clenches her thighs under her desk. She’s supposed to be sorting through agency applications—a task that should’ve taken no more than an hour—but her thoughts keep wandering. The vivid image of you beneath her, squirming and crying out her name, consumes her mind. She imagines burying her face between your slick folds, savoring every whimper you make.

Her lewd fantasies are interrupted by a loud explosion a few doors down, followed by an unmistakably gruff voice shouting expletives. Katsuki Bakugo. Ochako sighs, standing abruptly. She’s had just about enough of his attitude today. Well… maybe not entirely. Truth be told, she’s been silently competing with him ever since you walked through their agency doors, looking for a secretary position.

She knew you were going to get hired the second she saw you. How could you not be? From the moment you walked in with your form-fitting black blouse teasing just enough cleavage and your confident sway, Ochako was certain you could charm anyone. Bakugo, however, had a slightly different reaction. He practically lost his mind. The telltale vein in his temple bulged, his brows furrowed in a futile attempt to mask his interest. But Ochako saw right through him. The slight pink tint to the tips of his ears, the way his hands sparked with tiny explosions when you greeted him with your charming voice—he was practically a schoolboy with a crush.

It didn’t help that you’d strolled in with such natural charisma that Bakugo’s irritation quickly turned to poorly concealed lust. As you spoke, his muttered curses grew louder, and before long, he barked at Ochako to "handle the mess"—his words, not hers. Ochako couldn’t help but smirk at his futile attempts to disguise his attraction to you with anger.

From that day forward, Ochako knew one thing for sure: she had competition.

It hadn’t always been this way. When they first founded the agency, Katsuki had refused to conduct interviews. He called the process a "waste of time" and left Ochako in charge. That worked perfectly until she hired someone Katsuki deemed incompetent. His exact words? "A useless bastard who probably still has his mommy wash his ass." Since then, Katsuki had taken over all hiring responsibilities—until you showed up.

The moment you walked into the office, Katsuki was rendered useless. Ochako had to step in with a bright, professional smile, inviting you into her office for an interview. From the way you nervously fiddled with your hands beneath the table to how your nose crinkled in concentration, Ochako was smitten. You were hired on the spot, no questions asked.

Which brings us to the present: a furious Katsuki stomping around his office and a visibly exhausted Ochako standing just outside his door, arms crossed. Her usual cheerful expression is replaced with an annoyed frown. She’s over it. Well, mostly.

“What is it now, Kats? I could hear you all the way in my office,” Ochako says, her voice sharp.

Katsuki growls, running a hand through his spiky blonde hair. “Fucking shitty hair said my game’s been off lately. What the hell does he know?”

Ochako raises an eyebrow, stepping into his office. She perches herself on the edge of his desk, arms crossed, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “Well…” she starts, dragging out the word just enough to be infuriating.

Katsuki glares at her, his crimson eyes narrowing. “The fuck do you mean, Round Cheeks?”

Before Ochako can reply with the cheeky retort hanging on the tip of her tongue, you burst into the room, struggling to carry a towering stack of paperwork in your arms. Both heroes freeze at the sight of you, Katsuki’s eyes immediately darkening with something primal while Ochako fights the urge to bite her lip.

“Excuse me,” you mumble, your voice soft and polite. You set the papers down on Katsuki’s desk with a relieved sigh, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

Ochako is the first to recover. She hops off the desk, casually leaning her shoulder into Katsuki’s as she passes by. In a low whisper meant just for him, she murmurs, “You know exactly what.”

Katsuki doesn’t reply. His focus remains entirely on you, his jaw clenched and his fists tightening at his sides. You glance between them, oblivious to the tension, before giving a polite smile. “Sorry to interrupt. I’ll leave you to it.”

As you turn to leave, Katsuki’s gruff voice stops you in your tracks. “Wait.”

You pause, looking over your shoulder. Katsuki avoids your gaze at first, his sharp crimson eyes fixed on the stack of papers as if they had personally offended him. He lets out a frustrated growl, rubbing his temple in aggravation. “What shitty extra filled those out? Fuck, I don’t care—just bring them to me next time, got it?”

“Oh,” you say, blinking in surprise. “Okay, sure.”

With that, you’re gone, leaving the two pro heroes alone once more. The silence is deafening until Ochako bursts out laughing, her voice filled with amusement.

“You’re so obvious, Kats,” she teases, slapping his shoulder lightly. “You’re lucky they’re too nice to notice.”

“Shut it, Round Cheeks,” he snaps, his ears turning pink again. “Don’t you have work to do?”

Ochako grins, shaking her head as she heads for the door. “Not as much as you, apparently. Good luck with that.”

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving Katsuki alone with his thoughts—and the lingering image of your shy smile etched into his mind only making his pants seemingly tighter the more he thinks of you.

 As the next day arrived at the office you noticed It was a particularly mundane yet increasingly frustrating day at the office. Outside, fangirls lined up, some even breaking in like deranged stalkers, babbling incoherently at Katsuki as the cops hauled them out. It was as if they expected him to return their unsolicited "affections," but Katsuki had long since grown desensitized to it all. Meanwhile, Ochako was slumped at her desk, buried under a mountain of paperwork that Katsuki stubbornly refused to acknowledge, far too distracted by the way your ass looked in the new skirt you'd bought last Sunday. You couldn’t help but notice him sneaking glances your way, his gaze lingering just a little too long before he’d quickly shift back to whatever he was pretending to do. You had grown used to it—the subtle way he watched, always crude yet unmistakable. It left you wondering if you were imagining things, or if his attention was just that obvious.

There was also the subtle shift in the atmosphere around you. Your coworkers seemed to pick up on the way Ochako doted on you—whether it was the accidental "Oh, I bought two of these, here, you have one" or her constant need to follow you around the office like you were her boss. At times, it felt strangely protective, even though it was a little much. It was so different from how Katsuki treated you—brash and blunt, often irritating, but his eyes… his eyes lingered longer than they should, and you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he saw something more. Or maybe you were just imagining it. Either way, you couldn’t deny the way it made your pulse quicken, even as you tried to brush it off as nothing more than a stupid fantasy.

The day dragged on with the usual office chaos—no major events, just the typical routine (well, except for the occasional break-ins by crazed teenage fangirls). Other than that, everything was fairly normal—until Ochako burst out of her office like a whirlwind of pink energy. With her cheeks flushed and a spark in her eyes, she declared it was time to celebrate. After finally tackling the mountain of paperwork, she bounced over to you, her energy infectious. "Let’s go out for drinks at the bar downtown!" she exclaimed, her voice full of excitement. "It’ll be fun! We need to liven things up since it’s been so boring around here." Without hesitation, you agreed, eager to spend time with Ochako outside of the office.   

That night, you found yourself walking to the address Ochako had given you. What she had described as a "bar" turned out to be more like a club. You paused for a moment outside, silently grateful that you had decided to wear that shimmery dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. You rarely got to dress this way—most of the time you were stuck in office attire, but tonight felt different. Trailing behind you was your longtime high school friend. Ochako had suggested bringing someone, and while you didn't want to walk in alone, you also didn't mind having him along. It was the perfect excuse to not look out of place, and you were pretty sure Ochako had also brought someone along.

You pushed open the door, and the pulsating beat of the club music immediately hit you. But what caught your attention, even more, was Katsuki—standing there, his gaze cold as ice, gripping a glass in his hand. He looked utterly unbothered by the chaos around him, as if he was above it all. But you knew better—there was always something simmering under the surface when it came to Katsuki Bakugo.

His eyes locked onto your friend almost immediately, the predator in him stirring. You swore you could hear his teeth grind together, the tension building even in the midst of the chaotic noise of the club. Before anything could happen, though, Ochako bounced up from behind him, wearing a tight light pink mini dress. Her hair cascaded down to just above her shoulder blades, and a tiny flower lily was tucked into the side of her hair. You were in awe of how alive she looked in this moment—her energy practically radiated from her.

With a grin similar to that of a child on Christmas morning, Ochako playfully slapped Katsuki on the back of his head, scolding him to button the loose buttons on his shirt before he made every girl in the club have a meltdown. Then, with a sly smile, she turned and flashed your friend a shy look, still eyeing him warily as Katsuki continued to glare at him.

But before you could fully process the scene, Ochako grabbed your wrist and dragged you onto the dance floor.

The music enveloped you both as you and Ochako danced, clearly forgetting about your long-forgotten friend. You were hypnotized by her—the way her hips swayed effortlessly to the beat, the way her cheeks flushed a delicate pink with each change in tempo. Your pulse quickened, and the warmth in your lower belly intensified. You knew you were crossing a line, but everything in you urged you to keep going. Her hand gripped your waist like it was meant to be there, pulling you even closer, and before you knew it, she was pushing your body into hers. The movement was seamless, like you were both one, and it left you breathless.

The song’s pace quickened, and Ochako’s movements followed suit. She pulled you even closer, her grip firm but not painful. You could leave at any moment, you reminded yourself. But the heat of her breath on your neck, the way she inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of your strawberry shampoo, made you wish you didn’t have the option. You couldn’t think straight, and when she leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear, you felt a shiver race down your spine.

Her voice, once sweet and innocent, now took on a sultrier, more daring tone as she whispered against your skin. She asked, her breath warm and heavy, “Is this okay?” As she trailed her fingers further up your bare inner thigh, you could hardly form a coherent thought. All you could manage was a meek "yes" as she giggled softly into your hair. The sound sent another wave of desire through you, and the wetness between your legs became impossible to ignore.

“You look so beautiful in this dress,” she whispered again, her voice laced with intent. “I can’t wait to take it off you…”

The words alone sent you spiraling, and suddenly everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. You were no longer aware of the world around you—only of her, her hands, her body pressed against yours.

Before you knew it, you were dragging a giggling Ochako past the busybodies, feeling as though everything had shifted into a new dimension. Katsuki had already disappeared, and when you walked out, your friend was still grinding against some guy in the corner, giving you an enthusiastic thumbs-up when he noticed you leaving. You couldn’t care less as you hailed a cab, pulling Ochako inside as she paid the driver and gave him her address.

   Before she could even turn to face you, you were on her. Your hands tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck, pulling her closer as her thighs slotted between yours. She clung to the small of your back, her body pressed so tightly against you that it felt impossible to breathe without inhaling her every breath. The taxi swerved, the driver taking sharp turns, but neither of you cared. You were lost in each other, pushing and pulling like magnets, desperate for more, for friction—teetering on the edge of release but unwilling to cross the line in the backseat of this poor man’s taxi.

You slowly began to grind your hips against Ochako's, your dress inching up just enough to tease, exposing a glimpse of your lacy pink underwear. With quick reflexes, Ochako tugged the fabric of your dress back down, her large hand spreading across your ass, holding you close as she ensured no one would get a glimpse.

Ochako, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts, tried her best to keep quiet, but the overstimulation was too much. Every fantasy she'd ever had of you was coming to life, and the feel of your wet heat rubbing against her thigh was nearly too much to bear. Her body was aching, desperate to taste you, to bury her face between your legs and lick your folds like a woman starved, but she held herself back, knowing the moment wasn’t yet hers.

Her soft lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, desperate to satisfy the hunger clawing at her. Nothing, she knew, would quench this thirst except for being buried deep inside you. She bit gently, nipping and tugging at your skin, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from your collarbone to your jaw. Each bite was followed by a kiss, soothing the sting, but only making the hunger burn hotter.

Then, the car jolted to a halt. Ochako’s grip tightened, her hands desperate to keep you close. But before you could turn to see what caused the sudden stop (likely the fact that the taxi driver was a disaster at his job), Ochako pulled you toward her. She loosened her hold with one hand, using the other to cup your cheek, guiding your face toward her. Her smile, soft yet intense, sparkled in her eyes as she whispered, “You’re so beautiful,” her voice nearly breathless.

The words stole your breath away, and in that moment, you couldn’t think of anything else to say. Without a second thought, you kissed her fiercely, your lips crashing into hers, leaving her with a bruise to remember. Her mouth opened to you, slow and steady, almost asking for permission as she teased the entrance to your mouth with the tip of her tongue. The heat between you built with each passing second, a trail of saliva intertwining as you finally allowed her full access, your tongues dancing together. Your chest pressed against hers, and you could feel her hard nipples through the thin fabric of her dress, sending sparks of desire shooting through you.

You were completely consumed by the kiss, by the way she felt against you—her scent intoxicating, maddening. She smelled like lilies and pomegranates, a combination so utterly intoxicating that it nearly drove you to your knees. Her lips pulled at your bottom lip, tugging gently with her teeth as saliva trailed down your chin, dripping onto your breasts, now full and hard beneath your scandalous top.

It wasn’t until the driver’s harsh yell pierced the air that you even realized the car had come to a stop. "Get the fuck out," he shouted, breaking through the haze of desire that had clouded your senses. Ochako giggled softly, thanking the driver, but never once letting you slip from her embrace. She lifted you effortlessly, wrapping your legs around her waist, tightening her grip on you as she stumbled out of the taxi and toward her apartment, her lips crashing into yours once more, the hunger between you both only growing deeper with every step.

Ochako fumbled for her keys, her lips breaking the kiss, leaving a glistening trail of desire between you. The sudden loss of contact made you whimper softly, the sound only fueling her need to reclaim you. She could barely hold herself upright, her knees weak from the intensity of the kiss. She was so close to just pulling you against the wall, but she whispered, “Shh, pretty… I just need my key, okay?” Her voice trembled with impatience, and you nodded, a flush creeping across your face at the sound of your own whimper.

She searched her bag, frustration mounting when she couldn’t find the key. She must have left it at Bakugo’s after dragging him there to make sure he came with her. She tried the door anyway, praying it would open, and to her surprise, it did. She dismissed the thought, figuring her nerves earlier had made her forget to lock it. Without hesitation, she stepped inside, immediately pressing her lips to yours again, taking what she needed.

You stumbled in together, kicking off your shoes, feeling the weight lift from her feet as she undid yours with ease. Her hands moved with a mixture of tenderness and urgency, undressing you, her touch firm as she guided you out of your dress. You stood there, bare in nothing but your pink panties, the absence of a bra feeling like a relief now.

You tugged at the straps of her dress, urgency in your hands as you pulled it halfway off, revealing her soft, bouncing breasts. You pressed yourself against her, desperate to feel her skin on yours. Her kiss deepened, hungry, as she pressed against you, her body an aching need to claim you fully.

She lifted you, practically carrying you up the stairs, her arms strong around you, but her desperation clear. She wanted to throw you on her bed, lose herself in you, taste you, feel you—the intensity of the moment building between you like a storm ready to break.

Halfway up the stairs, you froze, the sound of a familiar voice making your heart race in a way it shouldn’t. The sudden explosion of noise from the hallway was unmistakable, followed by a string of gruff words.

Ochako cursed under her breath, her hands stiffening as she lowered her voice, trying to stay calm. She crept back down the stairs, pulling you along with her, the tension building in the silence. She thought hard, trying to figure out why Katsuki would be here so late, before the realization hit her. She'd left his key at her place after dragging him earlier to drop off paperwork. She’d thought he’d just leave it, but knowing Katsuki, he likely stayed to make sure she was safe, or maybe to keep the papers from falling into the wrong hands.

You followed quietly, heart pounding. When you reached the bottom of the stairs, Ochako stepped forward, her voice a little hesitant, “Kats?”

The sharp glint in his eyes met hers. “Pink cheeks,” he said with a smirk, his tone questioning. Then, his voice grew exasperated. “Fucking finally... Thought you were bringing home some shitty extra.” His eyes scanned the room, but when they landed on you, his expression shifted. His gaze locked on your bare form, lingering a little too long.

His eyes then flicked over to Ochako, noticing the disarray—her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen, her hair messy, evidence of the heated kiss you’d shared. “So this is what you’ve been up to, huh?” he muttered under his breath, a mixture of bitterness and amusement in his tone. “Instead of some random, you brought home our intern. Funny, Ochako. You knew how I felt.”

Ochako’s gaze dropped, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. “Kats… I was going to let you… but I—” Her words faltered, unable to finish.

But you couldn’t hold back any longer. “What? You felt what?” you asked, your voice curious, the tension thick in the room. Katsuki’s eyes darkened, and he just stared at you, silent, like he could see straight through you.

Ochako’s voice broke through the tension. “Kats likes you,” she said quietly, her words thick with sadness. “He has for a while.”

You studied him then, taking in every detail of his expression—the way his brow furrowed, the slight tremor in his voice when he was vulnerable. Something inside you clicked. You wanted them both. Ochako, in this frantic, almost feral way, yes—but Katsuki too, in a desperate, aching need. You wanted to see the parts of him that no one else did.

Without thinking, you blurted out, “Share me.” Before Katsuki could protest, you locked eyes with him, your voice low, almost teasing. “And Katsuki… think of it as a challenge.”

Ochako, her usual cheer returning, bounced on her toes, eager to claim you again, but with a quick glance at Katsuki, she held back, letting him take charge.

Katsuki moves with an urgency that leaves you breathless. He presses your front against the nearest wall, his hips grinding into your clothed bottom as his cock twitches with need. His hands slide down your shoulders, rough and deliberate, until they capture yours. He pins them above your head in one firm grip, his strength undeniable as his other hand trails lower. His fingers spread your legs apart, finding your throbbing clit with practiced ease. The way he rubs—rough yet teasingly soft—sends shockwaves through your body, making it impossible to think of anything but him.

He leans into the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin. The soft brush of his blond hair tickles you, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Katsuki’s height looms over you, making you feel small in the best way possible. “So fucking wet,” he growls, his voice low and rough, dripping with command. “Gonna turn ya around so I can see that pretty face. Alright?” His tone makes it clear this isn’t a request.

Before you can answer, he spins you around. His crimson eyes bore into yours with a fire that makes your knees weak. He’s studying you, sizing you up like prey—calculating exactly what you can handle and what you can’t. But it’s Katsuki Bakugo; he doesn’t give a damn about limits. He’ll make sure you take everything he gives and then some.

And yet… there’s something else flickering behind his intense gaze. A quiet satisfaction, maybe even pride. Katsuki knows exactly what kind of effect he has on people—it’s impossible not to notice when extras are constantly throwing themselves at him like moths to a flame. Letters stuffed into his locker, stammered confessions after class, desperate looks from men and women alike—it’s pathetic. Weakness disgusts him, and he’s never had time for anyone who couldn’t keep up with him.

He’s ripped up countless love letters without a second thought, tossed aside every declaration of affection like garbage because none of it ever mattered to him. Love? Affection? That shit was for idiots who didn’t know better.

But then there was you.

You weren’t like the others. You didn’t just want him—you challenged him in ways no one else dared to. And now? Now he wants you more than anything he’s ever wanted in his life, and it pisses him off how much power you have over him.

“Pink cheeks, here now,” Katsuki barks suddenly, snapping out of his thoughts as Ochako eagerly joins the scene. She practically skips over to you, her excitement palpable as she pulls you against her bare skin. Her soft thighs press against yours as she whispers into your ear, her voice sweet yet dripping with mischief. “Suki’s gonna take such good care of us,” she murmurs before biting your earlobe gently.

You’re caught between them—Ochako’s warmth at your back and Katsuki’s intensity in front of you. Your trembling hands fumble with the buttons on his dress shirt as he shrugs off the last piece of clothing covering his sculpted frame. His pale skin is a canvas of scars—each one a testament to his heroic nature—and the sight makes your breath hitch. A trail of auburn hair leads down to his pelvis, and Katsuki smirks when he catches the way your lips part in awe.

“Drooling already? Tch,” he mutters under his breath, but there’s no mistaking the pride in his tone.

He hauls you toward the couch with a roughness that speaks of urgency but not cruelty—just enough force to remind you who’s in charge here. Ochako follows closely behind, giggling softly as she whispers promises into your ear.

Moments later, you’re sprawled on Ochako’s lilac sofa, legs draped over her shoulders as her tongue works magic on your sensitive clit. Her nails dig into the plush flesh of your thighs as she moans incoherently against you—words like “beautiful” and “princess” slipping through her lips like a mantra. The heat in your belly builds rapidly, toes curling as you teeter on the edge of release.

Above you, Katsuki looms like a storm cloud ready to burst. His thick cock presses against your lips insistently, and when you take him into your mouth, the sheer size leaves you gasping for air. But there’s no room for hesitation—Katsuki demands everything from you. You push past the discomfort because pleasing him is all that matters right now.

“Fuck,” he groans low in his throat as his hand tangles in your hair to guide your movements. “So good, sweetheart.” The rare praise from him sends a jolt straight to your core.

Ochako’s tongue finds that perfect spot again and again while her fingers work her own clit feverishly behind you. The combined sensations—the taste of Katsuki on your tongue and Ochako’s relentless attention—leave you trembling on the brink of ecstasy.

Katsuki watches everything with laser focus—the way your lips stretch around him, the way tears gather at the corners of your eyes but don’t fall because you’re too stubborn to let them spill. You’re perfect like this: messy and desperate for both of them.

He hates how much this moment means to him—but fuck if he’s gonna waste it.

“Look at me,” he commands hoarsely, his voice roughened by pleasure as he thrusts deeper into your mouth. “Want this burned into my memory.”

 Right as those words leave his cruel mouth, the simmering heat in your belly surges, your toes curling as your legs begin to tremble uncontrollably. Ochako’s grip tightens around you, her hands firm as she feels the shift in your body, holding you in place. As you arch your back in pure, unrestrained ecstasy. Katsuki isn’t far behind, his rough moans spilling out despite his attempts to disguise them as choked curses. He hisses the word “fuck,” dragging it out in a low, guttural growl as his release spills into your mouth. Determined to show him you can keep up, you swallow eagerly, no trace of hesitation or displeasure crossing your face.

Ochako, having lapped up your cum with her supple tongue and swallowing it all like a starved woman, looks up at you with a beaming grin. Your pussy juices coat her face as her lewd fantasies come to life. She meets Katsuki’s eyes with a sweet yet demanding tone, “Suki, switch? Wanna sit on her face—pretty please?” With a grunt, Katsuki switches places with Ochako. The two of them bend you to their will, taking turns with you like dogs fighting over a bone. And fuck, it makes your pussy ache—desperate for Katsuki’s cock and Ochako’s tongue.

Ochako’s fat cunt presses against your face, her thick thighs enveloping you completely as she sits down with purpose. Instantly, your tongue goes to work, sliding between her folds and inching closer to her clit. As Ochako braces herself against the couch, Katsuki spreads your legs apart, his rough hands firm as he slides one finger, then another, into your aching core. He stretches you out slowly, preparing you for him, but his desperation gets the better of him. With a growl, he shoves in a third finger, the overwhelming sensation making you squirm beneath them both. Ochako grinds her hips against your face now, riding you shamelessly as strangled moans escape her lips. Struggling to catch your breath, you turn your face to the side and beg Katsuki through gasping words: “Please, Katsuki—need you. Fuck, need it so bad.” Your trembling hand moves to spread yourself open for him as you plead again, voice shaking: “Here.”

Katsuki takes that as a challenge, yanking your legs up so your ankles brush against his ears, spreading you apart as much as humanly possible. His cocky grin never falters as he looks down at you, his crimson eyes blazing with hunger. Your breathing grows more ragged, chest heaving as his thick tip grazes your slick folds, teasing you mercilessly. Above you, Ochako rides your face with a steady rhythm, her thighs warm and soft against your flushed skin. She looks down at you with a teasing grin, her voice dripping with mock sympathy as she purrs, “Oh, poor baby. Overstimulated already?”

Her words are laced with wicked amusement as she glances at Katsuki, the two of them exchanging a knowing look—a silent agreement passing between them. Without warning, Ochako leans forward, her hips still grinding against your face as she lowers herself to your chest. Her lips latch onto one of your nipples, tugging and biting just enough to make you gasp before soothing the sting with slow, deliberate flicks of her tongue.

Katsuki doesn’t hesitate to follow her lead. With a low growl rumbling in his throat, he lines himself up and buries his throbbing cock into your tight pussy in one swift thrust. The stretch is instant and overwhelming, drawing a strangled moan from deep in your throat—muffled by Ochako’s relentless grinding. Katsuki lets out a guttural grunt, his jaw clenching as he sinks deeper into you, savoring the way your walls squeeze around him.

Ochako picks up her pace above you, her hips rolling faster against your face as she chases her own pleasure. The friction grows hotter and more intense with every movement, the vibrations from your muffled cries sending shockwaves through her sensitive folds. Her moans grow louder, more desperate, as she rides you harder, the slick heat of her arousal coating your lips and chin.

Katsuki’s thrusts grow rougher in tandem with Ochako’s movements, each one driving deeper and harder into you until all you can do is writhe beneath them. The room fills with the sound of skin meeting skin, muffled moans, and ragged breaths as they take you apart together—pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

Katsuki thrusts into you hard and forceful, each movement deliberate and unrelenting, as though bruising your cervix is his exact intention. The sharp sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with his ragged breaths and the faint whimpers he tries—and fails—to stifle. His sweaty palms grip your thighs tightly, desperate for control as your pussy swallows him whole, clenching around his cock with every thrust.

Above you, Ochako teeters on the edge of her climax, her hips grinding faster against your face. Your tongue laps skillfully at her folds, flicking and swirling in all the right places as she lets out breathless moans. Katsuki slams into you with even more force, the impact sending your head bobbing beneath Ochako. The sudden jolt causes your tongue to hit just the right spot on her pulsing clit, making her cry out as her body trembles. Her fingers dig into the couch cushions for support as she comes undone, her juices spilling over your face in a hot rush.

Determined to please her, you eagerly swallow everything she gives you, your tongue darting out to lap up any drops you might have missed. Ochako shudders above you, her voice shaky yet sweet as she murmurs praise between gasps. 

 Katsuki's dick twitches inside your cunt as he shoves it in deeper and deeper with every thrust, each movement more aggressive than the last. You grind your hips desperately, trying to play a game you'll never win against him. Tired of your resistance, he sprawls his hand across your lower stomach, pressing down as he buries himself deeper, so eager to feel the bulge his cock creates inside you. Your babbling incoherent nonsense fills the room, the sounds pushing him closer to his breaking point. With a sudden, rough movement, he desperately pulls his cock out of you just before it gives its last twitch, spilling hot and thick across your stomach. Exhausted, he drops his head into the crook of your neck, his breath ragged and heavy.

While Leaving you panting and completely fucked out of your mind, Ochako rests on the side of the couch, her eyelids drifting closed as tiredness takes over. Katsuki's full body weight pins you down as he lets out harsh, uneven breaths. Your body grows lax, muscles trembling from overstimulation as you teeter on the edge of sleep. Just before you drift off, Katsuki whispers into your ear, his voice almost inaudible, "You get the day off tomorrow, cause I'm not that much of an asshole."

congrats, you read 5.8k words!

emergency comms open!

comms can be posted or kept private ur choice!

(another authors note bc i didn't wanna yap so much at the beginning) but.. this was so much fun to write!! also my first time writing lengthy mha smut so don't hang me at the stake for any mistakes..

[rivendell-poet]

I know you’ve got a ton going on with the trick or treat requests, but I just thought of this and didn’t want to forget it. Please do not rush to write it. I was wondering if you could write a SFW alphabet for Faramir? Again, absolutely 0 rush.

- 🚑

Wow, such a quick answer. Much speed in this response. It's only taken me (looks to where I finished trick-or-treats) like 3 months. Which is not as long as I thought it would be. It was my absolute pleasure to write for my favourite darling, and I hope the wait was worth it!

*･༓˚✧❝𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 - 𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐫❞‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « SFW Alphabet »

Wordcount : 2.7k (only including my answers to the questions)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) Faramir is an incredibly affectionate, and very attentive, partner. If the both of you didn’t have duties, he would absolutely be content to spend entire days with you - simply in your company. You’d want to use that time to go on a walk through nature? He’s looking at scenic routes, thinking of which ones you’d enjoy. You want to spend more quiet time with him, where you only want his presence? There’s not too much noise except the occasional turn of a page or scribbling of a quill as he reads in the corner, taking a glance at you every now and then with a soft smile on his face. Especially at the start of your relationship you notice that smile a lot, how he almost looks at you when you’re not at him - blush coming when you catch him, before apologising and staying how beautiful you looked in the moment.

His ways of affection are more subtle in public, holding your hand - or a whispered compliment when people aren’t too close. He’s more confident in private, speaking clearly (the man would absolutely write poetry for you, if you ever expressed an interest) and being more physically close. Again, a big believer in quality time together. Also enjoys making or getting you small objects. Coming home with vibrant flowers after having been away, or a small carved object of something you’d like. Every now and then he’ll buy something finer for you, although he generally discusses it beforehand to make sure it’s something you’d enjoy.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) He’d be an incredible best friend! A great mix of calm, and serious enough to tackle problems with - and for simpler topics as well. He’s the kind of friend you get into an in-depth discussion with on something seemingly mundane, and only when you look up and see the skies changed colour do you realise how much time has passed. But at the same time, Faramir would benefit from having a friend he can laugh with. Where he can relax, and do nothing taxing, and just have fun. That’s something he’d support in a partner too.Also, I think Faramir is looking for a romantic partner to be a best friend to him as well. He never wants to have a bond with someone based only on one facet of their relationship. He wants to feel like he could spend the day without kissing you - even if he wants too - and instead because of a deeper connection.

C = Courtship (How do they finally ask you out? What do they do in the days before?) Affectionately, a nervous wreck. He’s envisioned this speech, finally telling you how he feels, about fifty times. Each imagining is magical, but there’s always a voice in the back of his mind that tells him you’ll say no. Eventually, it’s Boromir who gives him the push to finally say something. So he decides too, asking if you’ll meet him in the gardens - hoping his face didn’t betray too much when you said yes.

For the hour before he runs through what he’d like to say to you again, what qualities of yours should make the list when he confesses. It might take him hours to say all the reasons his heart has started beating for you, so it takes a while to narrow it down to just a few. When the moment finally happens he’s still nervous. You can feel your face heating up as well, by how sincere he is. The compliments he gives, the way he describes his heart beating for you with such honesty. Before tentatively asking if you’ll court him. The brief look of surprise as you say yes, before it’s swept away by pure joy.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) Yes, I think Faramir does want to settle down in some ways. In that he always wants a home to come back too, a loved one to see and be reassured by. And he wants that home to be in Minas Tirith - he feels far too indebted to Gondor to ever really leave. But as a ranger, he’s also fine to spend time away from home. To have a life outside of city walls. And he always enjoys it, he just also loves the security of knowing something’s there for him.

Cleaning? It’s more of a learned habit than comes naturally to him, but he’s always very attentive to make sure he doesn’t get mud and dirt in the house and on the furniture. May even (very feebly) try to resist hugs if he’s just come back from a mission. Claims he doesn’t want to get you dirty, but with enough asking Faramir does always fold. Cooking he’s fine at. When you’re out in the wilderness he’s considered great, but once at home it becomes more ‘good’ than anything else. Makes up for it with practice.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) Can I just? Is it acceptable to veto this one? Nevertheless I feel Faramir would commit to his beloved forever, and if you are that person he will always stand by you. For better or worse.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) Mainly see above. He wants to spend his whole life with the person he loves, and he will do as much as he can to make sure he can stay with you. Of course he doesn’t say this when you start courting, but overtime it becomes so much more obvious you’re the one he’s always thinking about the future - and that you’ll be the one he’s always going to love. I imagine he’d propose around the one year mark, long enough for him to get to know you - but soon in the larger scale. He simply wants to be with you as soon as he can.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) He’s very gentle, in both ways. Probably one of the, if not the, most emotionally aware of the Tolkien men. Great for sitting down with you and simply being that needed, comforting presence on days when things are bad. And he can emphasise. Naturally gentle with you, although ends up being more intune with how you are with him. You greet him with a hug where you almost crash into him, he’ll eventually start to mimic the behaviour. 

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like? What about cuddles?) Loves both hugs and cuddles. Faramir can be insecure about expressing lots of affection in public, so hugs are a great way around this. They’re completely enveloping, and he likes to rest there for a few seconds - reassuring himself with your presence before giving you a smile as he pulls away. Often it’s his first greeting to you after a battle, or after you’ve been away for a long period of time. He takes a lot of comfort in the physical closeness. 

Because of the previous fact he also loves cuddles. I say he’s instinctively the little spoon, the reassurance of being held speaks to him, but if you relaxed into his arms he’d absolutely hold you tight. Either way, when he gets sleepy his head will often rest on yours - almost falling asleep in your arms, but just awake enough to move with you as you try to get more comfortable.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?) Faramir knows he loves you for a while before he says it. Like with confessing, it’s a mixture of wanting to get it perfect and nerves about the whole thing. Treats it as a very intimate occasion, although to everyone but the two of you the fact you love each other deeply is incredibly obvious. When Faramir finally says the words, it’s as part of a longer speech to you - although his cheeks definitely turn reddest when he says those three words. Practically freezes when you say them back to him, slowing turning to look at you before thanking you - then confirming he feels the same way. 

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) Faramir doesn’t get jealous, particularly. Even when you’re having fun with others, he’ll not often look at them and wish he was in their spot. Because the bond he has with you seems beyond everything else he sees. What he does get is insecure. Shutting down slightly, and becoming quieter. More withdrawn. Because what if that person can give you a better life than he can? Generally denies it when you ask him, but after some reassurance he’ll become more honest with you, and will never get tired of the two of you proving you’ll stay together.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) Faramir’s kisses are always very tender and intimate. A lot of the time they’re very light, even on the lips, but still fulfilling. It’s you who has to initiate if you want something deeper, but he’ll reciprocate it immediately. Is secretly glad that you do, although is embarrassed to ask in the early stages of the relationship. Will quite often place featherlight kisses all over you, a small kiss on the forehead as he leaves in bare minimum.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) Very popular with children. He listens to them, treats them like small adults, and tells very good stories. He has a good understanding of how many different personality types children have, and is very good at picking out how to approach each child. He’s always tried to be good with them, as well.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) You’ll almost always wake up with him still in bed next to you, cuddled extremely close. Once you start to move he generally begins to wake up as well, offering to be the one to slip out of your bed and begin making breakfast - or perhaps bring you back a warm drink to wake you up. Even when he wakes up before you, he tends to lie in bed with you for a while and simply enjoy the peace and quiet.

On the occasions he’s up a while before you, or he’s got a meeting early in the morning, he’ll get some things ready for you. A little plate and cutlery left out for you, a warm drink he hopes won’t go cold and will be nice for you when you wake up. The gentle call of his voice from the other room as you finally awake, asking if you want him to bring you anything in bed. Even when you get out of bed and he’s actually had to leave his presence is still everywhere, and there’s often a carefully written note saying how he loves you, and when he’ll be free of his duties.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) Fairly similar to mornings in that he enjoys coming over to you and spending time with you, seeing you laugh or smile with him. If it's been a longer day he tends to take some time to decompress, reading a book and curled up near you - not necessarily talking but still enjoying sharing your company. Sometimes you’ll see him hiding what he’s doing - and it’s almost always extra paperwork he’s hidden, giving you a sheepish smile before explaining what it is. Over the years he gets better at regulating himself, so the paperwork becomes less and less of him overworking himself. Faramir gets better at recognising it himself too, taking a deep breath before finishing his note and putting the quill down to join you.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) Faramir is fairly open about himself, at least on the surface level. Once you’re courting he becomes a lot more vulnerable, but it’s still in the sense that he’ll be more honest with his emotions. And not necessarily the root of the problem, and why he feels down that day. If you ask him openly he’s a lot more likely to talk (again after courtship starts), and if not he’ll probably begin to open up a few months into the relationship. Telling you about the worse sides to how his life has gone, to how he feels. Explaining that he didn’t want to burden you, but he also wants to be honest with you. There’s genuine relief in his eyes when he sees no judgement in yours.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) Very patient, probably to the detriment of himself sometimes. And again, he’s self-aware enough to realise when he’s getting angry. If that is the case then he knows to take a step back from the situation and talk with you responsibly, explaining what the problem is and using logic over emotions. He also hates arguments - especially one-on-one - so tries to avoid them the best he can.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) Generally very good, from the small details to the bigger picture. He also talks with you about it quite a lot, asking why your favourite flower is the way that it is - or making sure to compliment your outfit when you’re dressed in your favourite shade. Him slipping up can actually be quite a good indicator of if he’s overworked.

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?) There are quite a few memories of you that will always make him smile, that he will always treasure. But one of them is when the war is finally over, and he is in the Houses of Healing. How you had seen the king at the gate and come running to him, greeting him in a hug yet still being so careful of him and the burns. The way both of your eyes had shone, as you realised you were no longer at war for the first time in your lives. The gleam of tears in his eyes as he’d buried his head into your chest, and said how much he loved you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) Protective in the way he’ll always want to look out for you, but also doesn’t want to be overbearing. Appearing at your side and offering to help with anything you need, asking if you’d like to spar or shoot with him - and the smile that appears on his face when you say yes. He prefers the protection you offer him that’s more subtle, how he can be at your side and you’ll fight in his corner. (Although, if you ever threatened to fight someone for him I think the first thing he’d do is blush - before realising he needs to stop you.)

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) As Prince of Ithilien, he can never put quite as much devotion into his everyday tasks with you as he’d like. Normally, he has to hope the words he shares with you and his presence can be enough (which they always are). However, it does mean he always tries his hardest when planning for gifts and anniversaries. Ensuring the best quality items are used, that it will be something you’ll enjoy. Because you deserve perfection in his eyes - and he strives to give you as close to that as he can.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) He’s rather insecure about himself and his value to you at the start of your relationship, although he’s loath to address it at first. Once you’ve been courting for a while he’s more open about it, and it gets a lot better, but it’s never something that fully goes away. Just something that both of you get better at dealing with.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) Concerned in the sense he’s a public figure and wants to look respectful, but he doesn’t go into vain by any means. Will go slightly pink at most compliments about his appearance.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) Yes, I think if he ever permanently lost you’d he wouldn’t feel complete again in the same way. As a ranger, he can deal with being away from you for more extended periods of time - although never as long again after the Fellowship.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) Romantically buys you a sword. Not only is it one of the most finely crafted weapons you’ve seen, it’s also got so many little details you didn’t initially realise. The pommel has a small design barely carved into it - but still beautiful. The cross guard has a beautiful scene on it as well, which you only recognise later as coming out of one of your favourite landscapes. He later confesses he wanted to put some sort of script on it, a simple thing like ‘my beloved’ or ‘my star’, but couldn’t find anywhere suitable for it. Makes up for it by frequently calling you these names anyway.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) Dishonesty and shouting, for different reasons. If he can’t talk things through with a partner without it becoming an insult/yelling match, he’d turn away fairly quickly.

Z = Zzz(What is a sleep habit of theirs?) Always finds a way to end up in your arms, no matter how the night starts. Often reads before falling asleep as well.

A/N : Also, for anyone thinking of requesting SFW Alphabets. I welcome them, here's the current list of them; Boromir, Pippin, Gimli, Sam, and Kíli. Hope people enjoyed this one!

« masterlist » thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ Taglist : @celestialhole / @starwars2222 / @xiaoseminence / @withasideofmeg / @nilintakan ✧ wish to be tagged?

✧ @wordbunch / @bespectacledhuman / @howling-medic / @paigemackenzie0206 / @northernwing

✧ @awayaesworld /  @ferns-fics / @fleurdemiel-145 / @stormchaser819 / @deannie13

��� @eliosberry / @wisheduponastar

[yesimwriting]

i NEED to see Louis having the biggest crashout of all crashouts over reader. He don’t play about the people he loves in his life.

Also, Im so curious about how he reacts/talks about her without her being in the room. We know he’s caring and funny to her face, but I want Daniel to notice Louis indeed does have someone close to him in modern age and ask him about her. Will Louis show Daniel her paintings Louis has in his home? (anonymously purchased with the highest offer, just so his bestie racks in some dollars. Bc we all know bestie reader would give him her work for free)

a/n i can't put into words how much i love this. louis is so lighthearted around reader, but he becomes so deeply un-chill the second something reminds him of her mortality.

omg the interview potential is too good 😭. i love that you used the word 'notice' bc i think daniel would pick up on a vibe (similar paintings all over the penthouse, louis periodically looking at his phone and smiling, louis occasionally using phrases that feel gen-z) so when reader actually comes up daniel's like yeah. there it is.

anyways, here's a fic that explores both louis talking about reader and louis crashing out over reader and her mortality :)

----

There's something about the painting serving as the living room's focal point, and the smaller piece in the foyer, and the art work decorating the guest room. Not necessarily a style or a specific theme, but some underlying quality that conveys a sense of unity between them.

"Are you recording yet?" The prompting is small and far from an accusation. Daniel still finds himself shifting slightly, his gaze tearing away from the painting as if he's been caught staring at something not meant for him to notice.

"Uh--yes." It takes him a second longer than it should to meet Louis's stare. "That's an interesting painting."

The corner of Louis's mouth tugs itself upwards at that, not quite a smile but something that feels incredibly warm. He turns his head slightly, looking back at the painting as if to re-experience the details of it. "It's from a dear artist of mine."

Daniel's immediately thrown by the phrasing. His attention shifts away from Louis and onto Armand, whose lips are pressed together but is otherwise giving no indication of how he feels. "...An artist of yours?"

"Don't get him started." Armand's warning feels much too tired to be amused.

Louis halfheartedly glares at his companion before returning his focus to Daniel. "There's an artist, and she's..." Louis trails off, his eyebrows drawing together as he thinks through the best way to make his point.

"His very best friend in the world," Armand finishes for him, the words flat in their blatant sarcasm.

"Stop it," Louis sighs, the defense so halfhearted Daniel has to believe that this is an argument they've had regularly enough. "She is my friend, but it...it sometimes feels so much more important than that."

Okay. So Louis has a friend--an important friend--that Armand doesn't seem to like. It's hard to imagine them embracing other vampires these days, but the thought of a human girl so casually and openly important to Louis and disliked by Armand is even harder for him to grasp.

"Yes, she's like you," Louis offers after a beat, "And it's not like that. She's--like family to me." Daniel's questions are distracting enough to dull the usual annoyance he feels when Louis enters his mind. "And Armand's a lot more accepting of her than he'd ever say."

Armand's gaze flits towards Louis. His lips are still pressed together, but he's not exactly frowning, and there's something behind his eyes that almost feels thoughtful. It's not so much his expression as it is his blankness. It's a neutrality that almost feels methodical. "Clearly."

Daniel reaches for his pen. This 'friendship' seems like the kind of thing that might warrant a few rewrites of the more current chapters. He'll need extensive notes for the sake of continuity.

"So," Daniel starts, "This artist..." Louis provides your name. Daniel writes it down, making a mental note to look you up online before his revisions for the sake of accuracy. "How old is she?"

"Twenty-two." It's not the most surprising thing. They've mentioned other friends and acquaintances in passing, and they're often close to the ages they resemble...but Daniel's never seen evidence of them in their home. And Louis has never spoken so fondly of a human before.

Daniel looks at the painting again. He still hasn't been able to decipher what makes your work feel so cohesive, but he's starting to think it might be feeling. For the briefest moment, it's almost enough to make him wish there was a way to keep someone he doesn't even know away from them.

"I know," Louis says flatly, something behind his eyes briefly hardening. "But we're...careful. I ne--"

"Does she know?"

For whatever reason, the question seems to remind Louis of his fondness for you. "She knows." Daniel resists the urge to sigh. Twenty-two and willingly running around with vampires. He's not exactly in a position to judge, but it's difficult not to.

Louis relaxes slightly, his hand moving to rest against his knee. "She even knows about you."

"Really?"

"Please, they don't go long enough without speaking for her to not know anything." Another passively-aggressive comment from Armand. Still, there's relevance in what he's implying. How close are you and Louis? And why does he choose to spend so much time with you?

Daniel hums once in acknowledgement of Armand's words as he finishes writing down his last thought. "Why?" The question feels like something crafted by a very bad journalist. Daniel tries again, "Why her? What about her made you want to be her friend?"

Louis is quiet for a long moment, and to Daniel's surprise, Armand allows it to pass without any sort of comment. "When I'm around her, I can almost remember what it felt like to have sunlight touch mortal skin."

There's an affection there that's impossible to deny. If Daniel didn't think you needed to be a part of this before...

"She sounds--nice."

Louis eases at Daniel's tentative approval. "She's funny, too." He relaxes, allowing his shoulders to slouch as he leans forward. "And talented--during her gallery debut, an anonymous bidder paid a hundred-thousand dollars over asking price for her first piece." Daniel writes down the detail. "I've got more paintings I can show you later."

Daniel has a feeling this isn't as much of an offer as it is an inevitability. He agrees anyway, "Yeah, later." He turns to a new page in his notebook, writing your name at the top before drawing a bullet point beneath it. He'll need to figure out where you fit within the larger narrative. "So how did you meet her?"

----

Interviewing vampires isn't that different from interviewing humans. Not when you disregard the lack of effort it'd take them to end your life if they dislike your line of questioning and focus on the stiffness that characterizes the beginning of each interview.

When individuals, human or otherwise, are made to dissect their thoughts and memories, they tend to be slow to share until they've answered a few questions and start to feel like they're having a genuine conversation. Daniel's used to the phenomenon, used to the shallowness of the answers provided earlier in the evening. What he isn't used to, however, is Louis's irritation.

"It felt like what you'd assume it'd feel like." The answer is so nondescript, Louis might as well have not said anything at all.

Daniel's instinct is to ask for elaboration, but Louis gives him a look that feels like a warning not to. Daniel glances at his notes, thinking through his latest line of questioning. Is this...a sensitive subject?

"Don't mind Louis." Armand's responds, answering the question that Daniel has yet to ask out loud. "He's beside himself because his darling angel hasn't answered him in almost two days."

Louis turns his head to look at Armand. "I'm not beside myself." The correction is sharp, but Daniel can't help but feel like Armand might have a point. Louis straightens to face Daniel again. "It's not like her. She either answers or tells me she's going to be busy."

It's a concern that's almost unnerving to witness. "...The artist?" Louis dips his chin downwards once in silent confirmation. "She's twenty-two, she probably just forgot--"

"She wouldn't forget me." There's a harshness to the interruption that Daniel sometimes forget Louis is capable of.

"No," the response is more a result of an instinct for self preservation than a genuine attempt at agreeing with him. "I didn't mean it like that." Surprise aside, there's something interesting about Louis's defensiveness. "There are a lot of reasons for someone to not answer their phone."

Louis's quiet for a moment, his expression slowly morphing into something more neutral. He's not exactly easing, but it's a step in the right direction. After another second of silence, Louis parts his lips. Before he can actually speak, he's interrupted by the ringing of a cell phone.

Louis picks up the phone from the couch. He accepts the call so immediately, Daniel already knows who's on the other end. "Give me a minute," Louis mumbles as stands up.

Daniel sighs, leaning forward to pause the audio recording. At least Louis has a reason to come back in a better mood.

----

"No texts, no calls, you turned off your location--"

"I didn't want you to freak out."

The response only amplifies Louis's irritation. You didn't want him to freak out. What do you think he's been doing for the last day and a half? And what could possibly be so bad you needed to cut him out completely to keep it a secret?

Louis resists the urge to scoff. "What happened that was so bad you needed to keep it a secret from me?" The words are sharper than he usually is with you, and his phrasing isn't exactly fair, but he's not feeling very patient right now.

"It's not a secret--I just needed a second to deal with it before telling you." The vagueness only annoys Louis further. "I hurt my wrist." You pause, thinking through your wording, "I was out with a friend, and someone tapped the back of his car and I instinctually put my hand on the dash, and the pressure snapped my wrist."

What. "You were in a car accident?"

"No, it--" You cut yourself off with a partial sigh as you think through how to proceed. "It was a total fender bender. Josh's car isn't even totaled."

That's nowhere near as assuring as you think it is. "Thank God for that. Your arm's broken, but Josh's car is okay."

"My arm is fine." The defense means very little to him. "It's only my wrist." Louis rolls his eyes at the technicality. This is what he gets for leaving you alone. "But it's in a cast now, and in four to six weeks it'll be off."

The thought of you existing in New York by yourself, even more vulnerable than usual leaves a pit in his stomach. "I'm scheduling a flight."

"You don't need to do that." There's nothing surprising about the protest. "It's not a big deal, I've been checked out and the only thing wrong with me is my wrist." When Louis doesn't respond right away, you continue, "A lot of people break things."

Louis has never liked that kind of argument. You're not meant to be lumped into such a general category. "Those people aren't you."

The directness of the comment seems to soften you. There's a moment of hesitation, and then a reluctant sigh. "You're busy, you've got your book thing, and Armand--"

"If he has a problem with it, he can come, too." This should be enough to make the suddenness of their trip seem a lot less dramatic to you. Armand and him visit you semi-regularly, and they are over due for a trip. The thought of Armand being there might even be easing to you.

There's a brief stretch of silence, and then a careful, "You guys don't need to stop everything because I'm accident prone."

It'd be fair to argue that this isn't a result of your clumsiness. You were in someone else's car, and they weren't paying attention to the roads enough to keep you safe. Josh--you've mentioned him a few times in a variety of contexts, and Louis has yet to find a reason to be a fan. But that doesn't matter right now.

You're alone and even though you're not complaining, Louis can't help but imagine the pain you're probably in. You don't need to be lectured, and you don't need to hear anything that might make you worry about Josh. After a moment, he offers you something small, "Not your accident."

He wonders if there's a chance that you're injured in any other way. You said that you only broke your wrist, but that doesn't mean the accident didn't result in any superficial injuries. "Thanks." The word feels small. "I didn't call during a bad time, did I?"

Louis briefly thinks of Daniel and Armand waiting in the living room. "It's never a bad time to hear from you. Even when you're calling to tell me you've been in an accident."

"I considered texting, but I didn't want to give you a heart attack." He can hear the smile in your voice. "I really didn't like not talking to you."

It'd be easy for him to hold onto his worry, onto his anger, but he can't stand the thought of you being physically and emotionally wounded. "I didn't like it either." It didn't take much to hide this from him. There are so many ways in which you could be hurt, in which something could happen to you that he'd have no way of knowing about. "I also don't like the thought of you all alone."

There's the briefest crackle of static and then a soft sigh that feels like a yawn. "You sound like my mom."

"She's not wrong."

You sigh, the sound so familiar in its exasperation Louis is almost comforted by it. "You two have been on each other's side since Christmas."

The memory of meeting your mother when she came to visit you during the holiday season is one he's extremely fond of. It had been a brief shift, a small window into who you were before him, but everything about it had made him feel so normal. "I can't help that she's always right."

The crackly hum of movement briefly returns. Louis can picture you adjusting your hold on your cell phone. The thought is so tangible it only adds to the weight of your absence. "Why don't you come here?"

"Really?" He can hear the excitement bleeding into your voice. You recover quickly, the gentle static of movement briefly taking over the other end of the line. "You--you think that'd be okay? You have that writer over, and you're doing your--"

"Daniel's fine." In all honesty, Louis isn't sure if Daniel will mind another person around, but it doesn't matter. Injured or not, he can't imagine ever telling you to stay away from him. "He may even want to ask you a few things." That's true enough. Daniel was intrigued by the thought of Louis having a mortal friend. You'd be a good way at rounding out the modern era.

You're moving again. It isn't difficult for Louis to imagine you in your bedroom or on your couch, a heavy throw blanket on your lap. "I get to talk about you to a journalist?" The words are much too amused. "I'm going to tell him about the--" You're interrupted by your own laughter. "The club in Milan, with the LSD guy that smelled like--"

"Don't," it's a halfhearted attempt at stopping you, "We said we'd never tell anyone about that."

"I don't know, I think it's a story that deserves to be immortalized."

It's only an expression to you, but the reminder of the concept of permanence tarnishes the little peace the conversation has managed to bring him. Without intervention, you'll eventually vanish and leave him the sole holder of your shared memories. If he's not careful, that day might come sooner than it needs to. However, with intervention...

He pushes against the thought immediately. The prospect of turning you, of separating you from your soul for the sake of keeping you here is one that he only considers when he is at his most selfish.

Besides, he doubts he'd be able to bring himself to turn you himself. Armand is repulsed by the idea of having a fledgling, but there's a chance that he'd come around to the idea if you were the one to ask him. For all of his complaints and your shared bickering, something about the way that Armand never attempts to retaliate against you makes Louis think he might have a greater soft spot for you than he'd ever admit to.

Still, if Louis is allowing himself to imagine a completely self indulgent reality, the thought of Armand turning you doesn't fully fit into his ideal version of your transformation. Not when Armand's blood doesn't flow within his own veins. He banishes this thought more immediately than the last.

"Maybe I could be convinced to let you share that story if you agree to something."

You sigh in a way that's so incredibly telling. "You're not flying to New York to help me fly to Dubai."

Louis's not sure if he's more amused or irritated by your ability to read him. "I don't like the idea of you traveling by yourself, especially with a broken wrist."

He can practically feel you rolling your eyes. "It's this or no trip."

Louis doubts that you're extremely firm in this position, but he's willing to let you have a win. "You wouldn't do that to me."

You yawn, the sound low and tired. "Tough love."

"I'm not keeping you up, am I?" It's not particularly late, but there's a chance your body's exhausted. He'll have to read up on human injury before you get here. "You sound tired."

"The doctor gave me some pain killers for my wrist, and they make me kind of drowsy."

Great--you, all alone in your apartment, with a broken wrist, and painkillers in your system. The sooner Louis can get you here, the better. "You should get some sleep, I'll send you the flight information as soon as I have it."

"Okay." Your lack of questioning reveals more about your drowsiness than your words ever would. "Do you want me to send you my credit card info?"

"I've got it."

You let out a small breath that indicates resistance. "Louis."

There has to be a line somewhere. "It's this or no trip." He means the echoed phrase as much as you meant it, and Louis is convinced that you can that you can tell.

His hollow threat works. After a second, you give in with a small, "Okay." Wow, you must be more tired than you're letting on. "How long should I pack for?"

Louis isn't in the mood to think about your eventual departure. Fortunately, there's one topic that almost always works as a distraction. "Pack light, we'll go shopping when you get here."

"You so get me."

Louis smiles at that. "I know." The silence that follows feels a little less like a choice on your end. "Get some sleep, I'll send you the flight details tonight and I'll call you tomorrow." And then, just because he's not ready to let go of all his worry just yet, he adds, "Please answer."

"I was trying to spare you."

He doesn't doubt that at least some of your motivations were noble, but he also knows you, and he knows how you feel about his general wariness of the world around you. "That was the opposite of sparing me."

"Fine." You let out a breath, and Louis can practically feel you rolling your eyes. "My beloved Louis de Pointe du Lac, I promise to never intentionally ignore your calls again." The sarcasm in your voice isn't enough to taint the sentiment. You really do mean it.

Louis is nearly overwhelmed by his fondness for you. Things will be better, easier when you're here. "That's all I ask." You're quiet in a way that makes it impossible to not feel your drowsiness. "Goodnight, love you."

"Goodnight," you echo, "Love you. Tell Armand I said 'hi'."

"I will," he says, "Now get some sleep."

You mumble a response he can't fully make out before hanging up.

----

It's earlier in the evening than Louis wants it to be.

You're asleep in your own apartment, but it's difficult to not think about things much more gruesome than that. You kept the accident from him so easily, and you're at a greater physical disadvantage than you usually are.

You're also alone, not that you're safer when you're with others. The thought of the boy that allowed the accident to happen only adds to Louis's irritation. Josh. Josh, who crashes vehicles. Josh, who must have done something to make you think the accident was your fault in some way.

Louis pushes against the feelings. Josh, the details of the accident, the state that you're in. There will be time to deal with all of it later. He just needs to get through tonight. You'll be here tomorrow.

"It's still early," Louis's words are sulkier than he wants them to be, "We could go out for a bit."

"If you want to." Armand's response is slow and almost painfully nondescript in a way that suits the way he's been all evening.

Louis lets out a partial scoff. "What is it?" Armand angles his head to the side slightly in a display of synthetic confusion. "You've been passive aggressive all evening. What is it?" Armand doesn't respond. "Was it my worry? The phone call? The fact that I can't leave her alone like that?"

"You shouldn't have left her at all." The response is surprising enough to briefly silence Louis. "I told you it was only a matter of time before something happened to her."

The novelty of Armand almost expressing concern over you fades, leaving an unstable irritation in its wake. What right does Armand have to accuse Louis of abandoning you? Maybe if Armand didn't treat you like a puppy he didn't want, you would have wanted to live near them. "I didn't leave her--she chose not to move."

"You could have tried harder."

Louis blinks, his surprise clouding the potential anger. "Maybe if you didn't threaten her after every comment."

Armand's eyebrows draw together as if the possibility of you not enjoying your halfhearted spats had never occurred to him. "I have never once attempted to hurt her."

The distinction means very little to Louis. It's a statement that doesn't need to be made, because if Louis had sensed so much as an inkling of actual malice towards you on Armand's end, Armand would have never been allowed to be alone with you.

"We're different than her." The words are directed at Armand, but Louis's thoughts still latch onto the ways in which they apply to him as well. "After awhile, it has to be off putting to always be reminded of that."

Armand notes the thinly veiled self hatred immediately. As exhausting as it is to constantly hear about the poor saint cursed to be surrounded by such vile creates, it's even more draining to watch these sentiments impact Louis...and you.

He stands from his spot on the couch slowly, approaching Louis with slow, measured steps. "If you believe she's afraid of either of us, you are severely underestimating her."

Louis eases, the corner of his mouth tugging itself into something that comes close to resembling a smile. "You're not wrong about that." Armand extends an arm, placing a comforting hand on Louis's shoulder. Louis reciprocates the gesture, his hand coming to rest against Armand's forearm. "It's just hard not to worry."

To Armand, the response is a painful understatement. Louis worries about all that could happen in his absence, he worries about all that's wrong about his presence. Things would be so much easier if he'd get over the paranoia of 'ruining' you.

"You wouldn't have to worry so much if she was here more." Armand drags his thumb against Louis's shoulder. "Maybe this visit should be a little longer."

Louis's expression softens at that. "I'll do what I can to keep her here while she has a cast." He's never once asked you to leave, but he's aware of the temporary nature of your visits. You start missing your home and the access to whatever you need to create whatever you want. "But she starts to miss her home, and her studio."

"There's space here," Armand offers carefully, "You could give her a room." Louis's eyebrows pull together at the suggestion. "You're different when she's with you." Armand continues to trace patterns against Louis's shoulder. "And it's important we preserve that."

Louis's eyebrows draw together again, his confusion a little sharper this time. "Preserve it?"

"Human emotions are fleeting. The more time she spends away from you, the more likely she is to find more permanent relationships." Armand doesn't have to meet Louis's gaze to know that the implication has served its purpose. "And if she finds other people, falls in love and gets married, you can't expect things to stay the same between you."

Armand squeezes Louis's shoulder a little more firmly, a gesture meant to convey something comforting. "As your companion, I'm capable of grasping your relationship and even then, sometimes it's difficult to accept. Do you think some human boy would have the same patience? The same understanding?"

Louis frowns. Worrying about losing you to your mortality is a simple thing, but accepting the fact that he could just as easily lose you to change is nowhere near as easy. "I'm--I'm not going to make her do something she doesn't want."

Armand has to work at keeping his expression neutral. Louis's obsession with your free will is often a limiting thing. "Then we'll make sure she wants to."

----

manipulation is a love language, i promise <3

[cheap-pink-mints]

Burrow's End Statistics

During episode 3, "A Second Sun" Erika Ishii asked someone to run the numbers on Jasper William Cartwright's persistently low rolls as Thorn Vale.

Well Erika Ishii, ask and I will provide.

Included in the link is a colour key for the document. I've done my best to be comprehensive, but there are occasional rolls that go unannounced and thus, unrecorded.

As an added note, Aabria Iyengar announces her rolls less consistently as the DM. At a rough estimate, I would guess that I caught maybe 50% of her rolls, and as a result any averages or statistics collected for her will be so incomplete as to be nearly useless beyond a matter of vague inquiry.

Total rolls, successes, failures, and averages for each episode are collected at the far right side, and that same total for the entire season can be found at the bottom right of the document.

I have also included the character sheets as displayed on screen, updated each time an update was displayed, to the best of my ability, although I will admit this data is less comprehensive than the rolling statistics. However, it is theoretically possible to cross reference the character sheets with the total rolls to determine the raw, and thus determine the luck of the rolls over the ultimate pass/failure rate, but I have yet to do so.

Please enjoy!

[dangaer]

have to admit it following that last post, if we're shipping im 9/10 times rereading the media and looking at certain parts through a ship tinted glass set. i put it on the dash sometimes rather than dms because i'm extremely nervous that i'm going to come off as too much but, you know, i'm working on that.

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

tonight I go to bed grateful not to be in my bnha phase right now

[straightlightyagami]

you know until relatively recently i thought i'm at least like.. noticeably above average appearance-wise, i took it basically as a given since i was a little kid. but then i realized i'm actually ugly as fuck and nobody would ever pay any attention to me or find me good-looking or hot or whatever and i will be alone forever and die alone. so.

[worldofgoo]

tumblr was fun... though the majority of my connections are now outside of it and ive accepted that in life countless people you never really got to meet will fly by you, i guess i can still be sentimental about what it was for me as i matured and learned about the world and other people

[swiftiephobe]

once again attending a concert on my own because the person i was meant to be going with ditched and i couldn't find anyone else to go with me lol

[noxtivagus]

gna play to the moon later today 🤍

[artemisdesari-blog]

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.