#careful of the icy patch

[rinnstars]

4 walls!

in which itoshi rin builds a wall between him and the world and youre the only one with the key

itoshi rin x reader: fluff, drabble + not proofread + likes and reblogs are appreciated

to the world, itoshi rin is somehow cold, emotionless, unaffected - the way his face is fixed in the dead-panned face as though carved into it by a sculpture, the way he doesnt bother responding or dignifying jabs or comments as he walks past the desks, the way his eyes linger on only his goals over the people that surrounds him. to his first football club, he is nothing short of a disappointment, always compared to his genius of a brotehr, nothing short of dull, always hiding his report cards whenever exam season arrives, nothing short of cold, his mouth barely spoke a word during his stay there. to his classmates, he is just an average joe - just another classmate not focused in class, too busy focusing on his dream world wrapped in the football magazines he has stacked underneath his table, just another guy, albeit way more quiet and responsive than most students, just another mediocre and average student, with grades that just passed the mark to move on to the next and with abysmal club attendance.

yet, to him, he knows he is the opposite of all the things they say - he knows he’s rather soft hearted, a cry-baby at the slightest tone change, he’s rather insecure, each comparison to his brother only digs the knife slotted against his heart deeper into the already gory mess of an organ it has become over the years, he’s rather passionate, driving him to continue persevering against all odds, against his own belief and reality, against his own blood. but he rather it stays that way - maybe its better to not let them see the real him, to not let them too be disappointed at the real reflection that stares back at him in the dirty mirror, to not hurt himself more by giving them the full him.

and so he builds a wall. he builds a wall made of bricks and stones, block by block until he is trapped in his own making, until he no longer can get hurt or even see the outside world outside of the house he has essentially trapped himself in, until he wont get hurt anymore - not by his club members, not by his classmates, not by his brother. and he tries to convince himself, he likes it better this way - without others, there wont be another sae - he wont have to witness his own heart ripped out and thrown on the grassy patch of field another time, he wont have to go through nights of sobbing uncontrollably that leaves his pillow gross and wet by the time morning rolls around, he wont have to feel as though he lost a loved one to death as he occasionally open his drawer that features a photobook of him and his brother still grinning without a care in the world without knowing what would have happened next with dried tears stains that dirty those photographs.

and yet, its with you, rin thinks his walls are entirely down. to him, youre the key to the complicated lock in his heart that he without a doubt passes to you. you’ve always been beside him, even when his eyes were fixated on sae that has always been in front of him - beside him in class where you two slacked at the back of class playing your phone and him reading soccer magazine underneath the table as you two occasionally bicker whilst laughing, beside him on his bed right on top of the messy blankets he knows you dont mind with his arms around you like its second nature to him, beside him on that bus whether to and fro school or even to his training facility that takes practically hours to get to as you drool on his uniform that he doesn’t have the heart to let you know even after all these years.

you’re the bright star and sun that melts away his icy cold castles and mountains of walls as though they were nothing, rin thinks. the way you beam at him whenever you see him right at the bus stop, waving your hands excitedly as your footsteps springs towards him and he feels like he’s in those cliche romance mangas you talk about, almost seeing those cherry blossom trees and hearing that love song that repeats in his head whenever youre oh so close to him. the way you listen to him, nodding along even though half of what he’s saying are nonsense word jumbles practically sews and patches his broken heart back, warming his once ice cold atmosphere. the way you do things — passing him those sugary sweet candies that tastes just like you, letting him copy off your homework while you both laugh quietly at the back of class makes him wish this could last forever, the way your hands so gently combs through his emerald hair makes him melt into a lovesick puddle right in your hands as he looks at your eyes that he swears the whole galaxy is inside it.

and maybe youre like those hero’s and magicians he’s watched in those cartoons when he was a little kid, you must be. so enchanting: how you manage to coax him out of his room time and time again to go to wherever you want, hell rin thinks he would even go to the very end of the world if you simply asked. youre like the fire element to his ice element in those stupid games, the sun and the moon from those posts he reads about your favourite love mangas to catch up to you, the golden retriever and the black cat trope he hears you rave about, the “lalala” and “okokok” tiktok trend and everything under the sun. if youre not a secret extraterrestrial creature that he bets you are, the equivalent to his new found destroyer ego to make a team together to destroy the earth or something like that he jokes, maybe just maybe you two were destined by fate.

in another life, you would be the witch to find an abandoned familiar he thinks - warming and melting his icy exterior with both your warmth you exude and too the hot soup you always cook for him whenever he’s running a cold. in another life, you would have been the hero to have helped him out of whatever villainous organisation he finds himself trapped in in his rage and fear with your warmth and that bright cheshire grin of yours anytime. in another life, you would have been the bright and well-liked royal of the castle who finds him, a lonesome and attempting knight and make him yours he thinks. he’s sure of it — where yours and his constellations are always beside each other, where your palm fits perfectly with his like two puzzle pieces merged together, where yours and his heart and ribs and guts are shared together.

so for now, rin will sit here right beside you, enjoying the warmth you exude as he places his head right on your shoulder, smiling at your yelp at surprise and attempts to push him off back to his side of the bed: youre the only one he would let in to see the raw him, and he hopes he’s the same to you too, the one you can truly always shine the brightest with.

[whimsicalazriel]

fae in a china shop → Azriel x female!reader

summary: in which Azriel’s mate is clumsy

warnings: it gets a little spicy towards the end, just kissing lol. just pure tooth rotting fluff otherwise! a few spoilers

word count: 2k yay

a/n: thank you so much for the support on the first one-shot, it means the world to me 🤍

masterlist

Azriel was sure he’d have a heart attack the first time he met you. The market in Velaris was as usual filled to the brim with fae shopping last minute for winter solstice, and there you were, appearing to argue with a market stall owner, fruits of all kinds on the ground by your feet, some continuing to roll down the icy street.

The bond snapped into place, almost bringin the spymaster to his knees. You were the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. You wore a thick long coat, a few sizes too big, the sleeves falling over your gloved hands. On your head was a hat, homemade or old as loose pieces of yarn stood straight out. He found it endearing.

“Ah,” You groaned, not feeling the heavy gaze of the Illyrian a few meters away, his shadows dancing around him as if they’re containing themselves from reaching out to you. “I’m sorry,” you sounded flustered as you kneeled down to pick them up, a few rolling off your arms and into the crowd.

Azriel was frozen on the spot, his mind reeling. After 500 years he finally found you. He felt his shoulders slump in pure relief.

His shadows hissed at him to go and help his mate, but as much as he tried to move; he couldn’t. He felt foolish.

“My mother almost forbade me from going to the market today–gods knows I’m clumsy.” You joked awkwardly as you stood with an armful of fruits. “Do-how-do I just,” you gestured towards the box of fruits. “Drop them in there?”

The stall owner nodded, dumbfounded as he stared at you. You awkwardly bent over and opened your arms, letting them fall into the box. Azriel wasn’t sure if he was worried or amused as he watched you fumble.

A sigh of relief left your lips as you backed away. “Best get going before I accidentally start a fire.” You joked, choosing to ignore the horrified expression of the stall owner.

Azriel’s feet finally decided to work as he took careful steps towards you, his shadows hissing out warnings as you backed away into the crowd, not being mindful of the stray fruits and patches of ice.

Azriel quickly found himself behind you, grabbing ahold of your shoulder when your feet left the ground with a small shriek. “Careful.” He breathed out, his chest aflamed as his hands held you against him.

You turned around, a small sheepish smile on your lips. Azriel wanted to die. You were absolutely perfect.

“Gods, thank you! It would be quite embarrassing if I fell and cracked my head open.” You snorted.

Azriel winced at the image conjured in his head, “You’re welcome.” He smiled, his wings tucked in tight as he simply looked at you. He never knew how strongly felt the bond would be. He felt like an asshole for keeping Elain away from Lucien. And suddenly he found himself admiring the emissary, who kept a straight head on his shoulder despite it all.

He watched as your eyes widened, your lips pursing. “Oh.” Dread began to build up in his chest, the voices of his dead brothers coming back to haunt and taunt him.

“I-“ you began before clearing your throat. “This has never happened before,” you said softly before snorting, a big smile growing on your lips. “Obviously.”

Azriel found himself breathing out with a smile. “Would you like some company?” He softly asked, his shadows slithering towards you, not yet touching you.

You nodded quickly, holding back your excitement. He was definitely the most beautiful male you’ve ever seen, and he was your mate.

He held out his scarred hand, a small twinge of insecurity in his stomach which quickly was stomped down as you grabbed his hand without a second thought.

.･:*:･ﾟ’✫,’✫’���･:*:･˙ .･:*:･ﾟ’✫,’✫’ﾟ･:*:･˙

Azriel had proudly introduced you to the inner circle, ignoring Cassian’s grin and wriggling eyebrows. You were nervous, hands shaking as you all dined in the river house. You had already spilled the glass of expensive tasting wine, much to everyone’s amusement. Azriel held your hand under the table for the rest of the night, his thumb caressing your skin.

You were a nervous wreck when you stepped into the home of the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court. But Rhysand and Feyre welcomed you with open arms.

“So, finally we get to meet the spymaster's mate.” Cassian spoke, Nesta sitting quietly beside him, observing you, a small smile on her lips every time you dropped something. She found you endearing to watch.

Whilst Azriel was quiet, walking in shadows to stay hidden, you tumbled around like a fawn, loud yet shy. She couldn’t get enough. She decided that night that you would leave the house being her friend.

And she was right.

Nesta, to everyone's surprise, had seemingly taken you under her wing, introducing you to her books, books you were ashamed to read but couldn’t put down. She found herself adoring your quiet yet clumsy presence, weird sense of clothing style and quickly introduced you to Gwyn and Emerie.

You had yet to formally accept the bond, both agreeing to getting to know each other the traditional way; dates and picnics by the Sidra.

Azriel knew he had fallen for you when he came to your apartment for the first time. He waited as he heard you running towards the door. “Coming!” Your voice was faint but his heart reacted the same way it always does. A thud shook the door before you opened it with a flustered smile.

“Hi!” You greeted him. Azriel could feel himself staring to laugh. “Are you okay?” He asked, gesturing to the red old door. “Oh-yeah, I tripped on the carpet.” You laughed and quickly invited him into your cluttered home.

He couldn’t imagine a place that would represent you better than your home. Mismatched furniture and carpets layered on top of each other. It was the most cozy apartment he’d seen. It smelled faintly of vanilla and there were candles on every surface.

A roll of tangled yarn laid on the floor. You saw him looking at it, and felt yourself getting more flustered. “I picked it up as a hobby a few months ago, and then it got tangled so I gave up. I did make a hat though.” You smiled proudly. If he wasn’t in love with you before, he definitely was now.

He found himself thinking back to when he first saw you. The hat that caught his attention.

You grabbed his hand and dragged him to the kitchen. “Come sit, my parents are on the way.”

Azriel’s eyes widened. “What?” He sat down on the rickety chair, adjusting his wings to get comfortable.

“Yeah.” You nodded, rushing around the kitchen to prepare something easy to eat. “It’s only fair since I met your family.” Azriel’s eyes widened further as he watched you prepare the food. ‘Is she accepting the bond?’ He thought to himself.

“Um, darling…” He began softly, standing up to walk up behind you. His hands found themselves on your hips, squeezing softly as he rested his chin on your shoulder, breathing you in.

You hummed in acknowledgment, trying to regulate your breathing. “You’re preparing me food.” He murmured. You nodded in agreement, slightly confused.

Azriel’s sigh blew hot air over your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “It’s what one does when accepting the bond.” He explained, his lips touching your skin with each word spoken.

You froze before asking tentatively, “Is it okay if I am?” Your hands shook. “I just-I really want my parents to meet you before accepting the bond.”

A groan left Azriel’s lips and he tugged you towards him. “Fuck, I love you.” He admitted with a soft laugh. You turned around in his arms to face him, your hands grabbing ahold of his neck to meet his lips with yours, but a knock halted the both of you.

Azriel’s forehead rested on yours, his hair tickling your skin. “It’s them,” you breathed out, before detaching yourself from the Shadowsinger to open the door.

Azriel couldn’t believe his eyes when your parents stepped in. He now knew where your sense of style came from. Your mother wore a green overall with a mustard yellow sweater tied around her waist. Your father also wore an overall, though it was definitely more sun bleached. On his head was an old ratty hat, hiding his unruly hair.

Azriel would never dream of ever saying someone’s parents looked interesting, but yours did.

He took notice that you and your father shared the same smile, but your eyes were definitely your mothers. Warm and loving.

A shriek left your mother as she sprung towards Azriel, her arms wide open to embrace him. He stood awkwardly, not knowing if he should hug her back. He wasn’t used to any platonic affection that came from outside the inner circle. He wasn’t sure how to feel.

“Mother,“ you groaned, “we talked about this. Personal space-“

“Personal space,” your mother finished the sentence with a huff and a glint in her eyes. “Yes, of course, but he’s so handsome!”

Your father laughed, a deep from the belly one as he looked at Azriel. “If he wasn’t so big I would've fought him for that.” He joked, before walking up to slap Azriel’s shoulder with wince. “He’s very strong.” He said approvingly.

.･:*:･ﾟ’✫,’✫’ﾟ･:*:･˙ .･:*:･ﾟ’✫,’✫’ﾟ･:*:･˙

Your parents ended up staying for three hours, though neither of you minded. Azriel quickly warmed up to them, though a bitter taste of jealousy coated his tongue when he found himself comparing his childhood to yours.

Your father was a local fisherman whilst your mother was a bartender on certain weekends. It was all fascinating for the spymaster, who’s lived anything but an ordinary life. It was nice to imagine himself with you that way. No war, no cauldron or High Lords, just you and him.

He noticed that you and your father shared the same clumsiness as the older man knocked the kettle over after tripping over the yarn.

Your mother laughed softly with the look of raw love in her eyes. “It’s never an ordinary day with those two around.” She gestured towards you and your father as you fussed over your broken kettle.

Azriel found himself laughing along.

The moment the door closed you quickly forced Azriel to take a seat at the table once more. You sat beside him with a nervous look in your eyes.

His eyes never left yours as you fed him piece after piece of the homemade bread. You felt whole after he finished the last piece.

“I love you, Azriel, so much that it hurts.” He could only stand up and lift you on the table, ignoring the clatter of porcelain. He grabbed your neck and pressed his lips to yours. The bond stretching between the two of you, lighting up like a beacon.

His shadows caressed your skin, their cool touch leaving you gasping for air. He laughed into the kiss and tugged you closer so that he was snug between your legs. The kiss felt never ending as though time was simply a suggestion. “The bed,” you gasped between kisses.

Azriel nodded before he paused, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Where is your bed?”

You stole a few more kisses, “left door by the kitchen,”

Azriel hummed into your lips, his tongue dancing with yours as he picked you up, your thighs around his waist as he navigated through your apartment whilst kissing you like his life depended on it; which to him, it did.

He laid you softly down on the plush bed, and he took note of the three different duvets with a chuckle.

He sighed in pleasure as your lips found themselves on his neck, kissing, sucking and biting on his warm tan skin. The taste of him was like nothing you’ve ever experienced and you were willing to never stop kissing him.

Azriel grabbed ahold of your chin, his lips meeting yours in desperation.

“I will never let you go.” He murmured against your lips, his hazel eyes shining silver.

“I will never let you go either.”

Nesta could beat me up and I would thank her for it.

[goosita]

when young!politician!snow takes you home with him…

its all wandering hands, squeezing and clawing when he leads you through the front door of his penthouse. he slams the door shut and pushes you against it to kiss you senseless again. his body presses into yours, smooth silk of his dress shirt sliding against the satin of your dress. he only parts his mouth from yours to sink to his knees, lifting the hem of your dress to slip off your silver stilettos.

“coryo,” you whine softly, already missing the heat of him against you. he looks up at you with a sinister grin, pushing the skirt of your dress up to your hips.

“shhhh, i’ll take care of you,” coriolanus whispers, dragging his tongue in a slow line up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. his crystalline eyes stay locked on yours as he leans in and presses a lingering kiss to the growing wet patch on your panties. the gesture along with the eye contact makes you shiver, a broken please falling from your lips. and to think, just this morning you were innocently making coffee for him in his office.

coriolanus has mercy on you, too eager himself to draw this out. too desperate for you. he slips your panties down your legs and pockets them, carefully lifting one leg to rest over his shoulder and wasting no more time. he dives into your cunt like a man starved, his tongue delving straight through your slippery folds.

you gasp and arch your back, one hand clawing at the wooden door behind you and one hand tangling into his perfect pale waves, curling into his hair desperately. the tug at his locks makes him moan, his eyes fluttering almost drunkenly as he laps at your wetness. his tongue finds your clit easily, teasing at it with eager strokes while two of his fingers work their way into your body. he curls them forward inside of you, brushing against something that makes you whine beautifully for him.

“such a good girl,” he breaks away to purr, looking up at you. coriolanus, still kneeling before you, looks up at you with his icy stare now turned stormy. his lips are kissed red and plump, shining with your arousal and his eyes gaze upon you like he’s worshipping you. “so beautiful, my darling. does it feel good? are you going to cum for me?”

he punctuates the question by leaning back in, mouth ravishing your clit as his fingers continue to fuck you in smooth, precise strokes. he watches you closely, learning quickly what makes you moan and gasp.

“yes! oh fuck, yes, coryo….” you pant, feeling the heat between your legs build. he keeps his eyes on yours as he watches, pushing you over the edge into an orgasm that makes your ears ring almost embarrassingly quickly.

coriolanus works you through your release, moaning low and gravelly against your cunt as you soak his fingers and tongue. you glance down in the haze of your high fading, noticing the way his hips shift uncomfortably and rock subtly against nothing but the friction of his own trousers.

“you taste so sweet, baby. you have no idea how long i’ve been thinking about this,” he tells you when he pulls away. he carefully slips his fingers from you and smirks when you whine at the loss, tutting softly. coriolanus lets your skirt fall back down to the floor before standing, taking one of your hands and lacing your fingers together. he brings them to his mouth to pepper kisses across your knuckles, letting your breathing slow.

“i think about you all day, every day,” he admits in a soft voice, leaning his head down to rest his forehead on yours. “its worse at night, when i have to wonder what you’re doing. if you…think of me. i wonder if you touch yourself, wishing it was me instead.”

his nose brushes against yours almost sweetly, in contrast to the lewd way he’d just devoured your pussy. then his words turn to filth again.

“do you know how many times i’ve laid alone in my bed and fucked my own hand, wishing it was you? imagining you spread out under me while i fuck you so senseless you can speak?”

he smiles when he notices the dazed look in your eyes, the way your body arches to press into him even after bringing you to orgasm with his mouth. you want more from him and he knows it. “would you like me to do that? hm?”

your eyes flutter and you nod, fingers curling into his shirt to draw him closer. his hand circles around your throat, not restricting but his thumb presses under your chin to tip your head up a little further, a little closer to him as he leans down. his lips brush against yours just slightly, but he doesn’t kiss you. instead, he whispers sternly to you.

“say it. say, ‘yes, coryo. please fuck me’.”

“coryo please. please fuck me, yes,” you babble slightly, feeling high from his touch and his body heat.

coriolanus coos softly, bringing the back of your hand where they’re still joined against his cheek to nuzzle into it. “you’re such a good girl for me,” he murmurs, pulling you by the hand away from the door.

the penthouse is so large, glossy marble floors and soft lights as he weaves through it to lead you to his bedroom. once inside, he closes the door and pulls you to him, bringing his lips back to yours to kiss you breathless again. you can taste yourself on his mouth, his tongue sliding against almost teasingly slow.

his bed is soft when he lays you down on it, after he unzips your dress and lets it fall to his floor. coriolanus pauses at the foot of the bed after you lay back, slowly undressing himself as well. you watch as he unbuttons his shirt and slides it off his shoulders, the way his hands make quick and easy work of undoing his trousers and kicking them away.

he crawls over you on his bed, caging you in his arms. coriolanus nudges your legs apart with his knee, trailing slow, hot kisses along your throat.

“you have no idea how stunning you looked all night,” he whispers, pausing to softly bite at your collarbone. “it took everything in me not to drag you into a dark corner and take you right then and there.”

shivering at his words, you cup his face and pull him back into another wanton kiss, licking into his mouth. “you’re driving me insane, coryo,” you confide.

“the feeling is mutual, darling.”

emboldened by his own confession, your hand wanders down to brush your fingers along the outline of his cock. he’s straining inside his black boxer-briefs, and your touch makes a soft whimper escape him. he’s so unashamed about the noise, grabbing your hand and slipping it beneath his waistband until you can wrap your fingers around him.

“feel what you do to me? always so fucking hard when you’re near me.”

hearing him swear like this, a man usually so calm and unfazed, urges you on. your hand slowly strokes his cock while you watch his face. his lips part and he mewls softly, rocking his hips into your touch.

“need to be inside you, baby,” he almost whines, gently taking your hand out of his underwear. he discards them quickly, settling his hips between your spread thighs.

his cock slides through your wetness a few times, coating him in your arousal before he slowly pushes inside your aching cunt. the sound he lets out is almost animalistic, his fingers twisting in the sheets beside your head as you take him inch by inch.

“fuck,” he growls, leaning down to bite at your shoulder. “so fucking good. s’perfect for me.”

coriolanus bottoms out and pants softly, giving you a moment to adjust before he’s rolling his hips slowly, making you both shudder and moan. his cock presses into just the right spots, making you see stars.

he keeps a slow pace for a little bit, building you up until your nails are dragging down his back and making him hiss in pain and pleasure.

“more, coryo. please,” you beg.

“whatever you— shit, whatever you want.”

watching him begin to lose control like this only makes you feel hotter, brain more clouded with lust. he’s always so poised and composed, but now you lose yourself in him as he does to you, rutting into you like a beast in heat.

“tell me you’re mine,” he growls suddenly, hand slipping between your bodies to toy with you clit. “tell me you’re mine and i’ll give you anything you want.”

“i’m yours, c-coryo,” you stutter as you rapidly approach orgasm for the second time tonight. “i’m yours, i’m yours!”

your obedience makes him groan loudly, biting down on his kiss-swollen bottom lip. he rubs your clit faster and watches your face as you tremble below him.

“good girl, f-fuck. such a good fucking girl. cum for me, darling. cum on my cock, let me feel you,” he grunts, delirious and pussydrunk. his voice, dark and low pushes you over the edge and you squeeze down on him, sure that you’re drawing blood from how hard you claw at the skin of his shoulder blades.

your orgasm triggers his own and coriolanus snarls and presses his hips into yours hard enough to bruise as he cums inside of you, flooding your cunt with his release. he pants heavily, shuddering and sealing the act with a kiss to your lips.

in the afterglow, coriolanus lets you lay your head on on his chest and he cards his fingers through your hair. his heartbeat is slow and steady, body pliant and tangled up with yours.

“darling,” he whispers.

you lift your head to look up at him, momentarily getting lost in his wintery eyes. his fingertips brush along your jaw before skimming down, lifting the snowflake pendant around your throat.

“we can’t tell anyone,” he says softly, his eyebrows pinched worriedly. “it would be…a scandal, to say the least.”

you nodded, understanding. coriolanus is right; you’re still his employee and he’s a powerful man. there’s all kinds of sinister ways the press could spin this.

“but,” he continues, the corner of his lips twitching up. “i’d like for you to keep this. to wear it, even if i’m the only person who knows.”

he lets the pendant fall back against your skin, watching your face for a reaction.

“of course, coryo. i won’t take it off,” you promise, smiling small. he mirrors your little grin and steals a kiss from you.

“it’ll be our little secret, miss y/n.”

[oneforthemunny]

what about mafia!eddie and reader going through a rough patch and all they do is fight and kitten tells him that they should take a break and i'll leave the rest up to you....

oof ok let's 180 back to angst. buckle up angsty babes!

"Maybe," Your voice trembled, sucking in a shaky breath. "Maybe I should go stay with my parents... for a while."

Eddie's head whipped around, eyes wide with something you couldn't quite detect, a new look teetering between anger and something worse. It made your spine tingle with chills, icy and fearful.

"What?" Eddie's voice was soft, much quieter than the raised tone from before.

"I-I think," You tried to still your voice, throat raw and aching from the back and forth screaming match of the night. "I think I- we need to be apart for a while." You whispered, refusing to meet his gaze, looking at the couch behind him instead.

"Why?" Eddie barked, teeth gritting and baring in fury, heart pounding with a fear he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Eddie," You sighed, shaking your head at him. "Seriously? All we do is fight." A fresh wave of tears rolled over you, nose burning.

"That's not-"

"-Eddie," You stopped him, gaze meeting his. You could see it now, could see that the foreign look was fear. Your heart sank, taking a shuddering breath to calm yourself. "We're just... We can't stop fighting."

Eddie stilled, frozen across from you. "I'm tired of fighting." You admitted softly, shoulders slumping in defeat.

Days, weeks of bickering- back and forth until your voices were raw, doors slamming, then retreating back with careful apologies, only to repeat the cycle over and over. You were dizzy from it, from trying to get him to see, to understand your point. He was so stubborn.

What started as a what if silly conversation, turned into a bickering, fueled into a full blown fight that seemed never ending.

"You'd be a good dad. You're so good with the boys." You hummed, leaning against his chest.

"Yeah? You'll never know." Eddie scoffed casually.

You frowned, pushing up to look at him. "What?"

Eddie blinked. "C'mon, you know I can't have kids. Not doin' this job. Won't do it to some poor kid."

"But I'll never know?" Your lips pursed. "That's a pretty shitty thing to say to me. Pretty bold." You pushed off of him, out of his hold.

Eddie huffed, running a hand down his face. "Where're you- Seriously? We've talked about this, have we not?"

"Yeah, we have." You huffed, cheeks burning. "But saying I'll never know- do you not see how that's a little rude?"

"What?" Eddie threw his hands up. "You won't. Not with me, anyways."

You gawked at him, surprised, furious, hurt. "You're such a fuckin' asshole. I can't believe you." You snapped, stomping off.

That was the first night. Both of you stubbornly coming for the other, agitation building over and over and over, piling on top of previous fury until you'd finally burst. Leaving you standing here, where you are now, defeated and ready to throw the towel in, too tired to fight.

"I-I- Baby, if this is about the kids thing, look, I told you-"

Your sigh cut Eddie off. "It's not about that." You ran a hand down your face. "I can't- I can't keep trying to explain my side of things when you aren't listen. You won't listen."

"Then what? What is it?" Eddie's franticness turned to angry urgency. "Just say what you mean! Say it!"

You didn't flinch at his anger, at his outburst. Your lip wobbled, taking a deep breath in. "I've said it." You muttered. "I can't- I won't be in a relationship that's one sided." Eddie felt sick at your words.

"I understand that you don't want certain things, and I respect that, I do. But I've changed a lot of things in my life for you, because I love you." You continued, tears brimming your vision. "All I'm asking is for a little change in return. Not with the kids thing-" You cut him off before he could start, sensing what he was going to say.

"But there's two of us in this relationship." You look at him. "I just wish you could try to see my side of things sometimes."

"I do-" Eddie spat in defense.

"-When I'm agreeing with you, you do." You snapped back. "But when it's something you disagree with, you shut me down, dismiss it because what you say is law-"

"-It is not-"

"-And I'm tired of it." You look at him pleadingly. "I think we both need some time apart to figure out what we want. What we do from here."

Eddie felt tears burn, threatening to fall. "I know what I want." He gritted through clenched teeth. "I want you. I've always wanted you. I don't need time to figure out because it's not changing."

You nodded slowly. "I know you do." You whispered. "But this is what I'm talking about. That's what you want."

Eddie felt sick, heart sinking lower and lower into the pit in his stomach. "I need time apart." The room was silent, your voice cutting through. "I need to figure it out."

"Are you- You're breaking up with me?" Eddie sounded petulant, voice crackingly pathetic that he hadn't been since he was a teenager.

Your shoulder shuddered, exhaling shakily. "I didn't say that." You shook your head. "I-I don't want to, that's not what this is. I just... I need to be able to think. We both do."

Eddie blinked, vision bleary with tears that fell. "Alright," He nodded, ignoring the ache in his chest, heart splitting in two. "If that's what you want."

Watching you drive off, slow down the road, Eddie ignored the screaming in his head to run after you. To pull you out of the car, demand you come back, bring you back himself. This is what I'm talking about, your voice played in a painful loop in his mind.

You called him like you said you would, hours later when you got to your parent's house. A quiet, quick phone call. His heart still swelled, lifting when you muttered a fast, "love you" before hanging up.

Sitting in the stillness of the empty house, Eddie had never felt so lonely in his entire life. It was horrifying, thinking that his future could be like this- a life without you in it. Eddie decided right then and there, he'd do whatever he needed to make sure that wasn't his reality.

[darylssunshine]

daryl x reader

“lift up your sleeve”

at the farm maybe daryl saw shane grab your wrist tightly

Caring

Word count: 0.9k

Genre: Mainly fluff

A/N: my first request! hope you enjoy anon!!

~~~~~

You squint your eyes in frustration, rubbing a hand down your face and shifting your weight away from Shane. He was fed up with the continuous search for Sofia and he was taking his anger out on the whole group, yelling at the top of his lungs with a deep southern drawl. He believed that the search was futile and that the group should keep moving, but the rest of the group opposed, including Daryl.

“We’re close to finding this girl, I just found her damn doll a few days ago!” He piped up, pacing back and forth to ease his frustration. Shane harshly chuckled in response. “You found her doll, Daryl. That’s what you did, you found a doll.” 

The group then erupted back into an argument with Rick trying to hold Daryl back from lunging at Shane, the redneck jumping up and down and throwing up his arm as an attempt to move Rick’s arm out of the way. Frankly, you were tired and hungry and on edge and sick of Shane’s shit. So you piped up this time.

“Hey!” You stepped in front of Shane, blocking Daryl from his view. The rest of the group had now ceased their yelling and all had their eyes on you and your sudden surge of boldness. Daryl moved to the side so he could properly glare at the now stunned southern man.

“Daryl was only trying to help. What the fuck is so bad about that? It’s giving people hope, and that’s all we need right now, especially Carol. Now, if you could settle down, we could think of some sort of pl-”

You were cut off from your outburst and pointing your finger in Shane’s face by him violently grabbing your wrist, rendering it immobile by his strong grasp. He bored his fiery eyes into yours and spoke lowly, but so that everyone surrounding the exchange could still hear him. You tried to mask the scared look in your eyes that paralleled his, but you knew what Shane was capable of, and you felt your breathing speed up and your wrist throb.

“Listen here, sweetheart. You ever do somethin’ like this again and I will not hesitate to break this skinny little wrist right here, do you hear me?” He was so close to your face you could feel his hot breath hit the tip of your nose. You were so focused on the pain in your wrist growing by the second, you didn’t answer his rhetorical question.

“Do you hear me?!” He yelled suddenly, the grip on your wrist growing impossibly tighter.

“Yes, Shane.” You grunted through gritted teeth. He threw your wrist out of his grasp and turned around with a huff.

“This talk ain’t over!” He shouted to no one in particular while stomping in the opposite direction.

—

Daryl found you later in the evening sitting against the Greene house, basking in the evening breeze. You were absentmindedly rubbing your wrist that Shane had grabbed earlier, when he wordlessly sat next to you, crossing his arms and leaning his head against the house. You turned your head towards the redneck and furrowed your brow in confusion. Your heart was beating a bit faster just from his presence, but you were determined to not let your nervousness show.

“M’ dad used to do that.”

You sat up, snapping your gaze over to Daryl, who was still staring at the stars above. His voice was low, but still caring. He continued, his gaze unwavering despite your movement.

“He was a drunk. Beat me all th’ time. Left bruises all over.”

Your eyes shifted to the ground, now embarrassed, remembering that he saw that entire heated exchange. “It didn’t leave a bruise, Daryl. It’s not that bad.” You said softly as you rubbed your neck.

“Lift up yer sleeve, then.” He prodded, now staring at you with his icy blue eyes. He scooted closer to where you were sitting and shifted his gaze to your right hand, your left currently covering it. 

Shifting your eyes back to a particularly interesting patch of grass, you gently rolled up your right jacket sleeve with a wince. Daryl’s brows creased in anger when his eyes were met with a deep purple bruise forming at the base of your wrist, the purples fading into soft yellows. You now anxiously played with your left jacket sleeve.

A sort of growl exited his mouth. “Imma kill that sumbitch.”

You were stunned and your thoughts were reeling, your eyes flipping from your wrist to Daryl’s concerned yet angry face. He was being so careful around the wound, very gently holding and examining it. Did he actually care about you? You originally found it unlikely, but he didn’t seem like the type to open up to just anyone. A blush was creeping onto your face after his last comment, and you were silently praying that he didn’t notice. 

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and setting your hand back onto the soft grass. “Hershel’ll fix ya up in the mornin’. Till then, be careful n’ don’t put pressure on it, aight? I want ya to get better.” You softly chuckled in response. “You got it, Dr. Dixon.” You saluted with your left hand. He rolled his eyes in response.

“Thank you for caring. Really. It means a lot.” You said sincerely, placing your injured hand on his.

“Mhm.” He shifted his gaze back to the stars as he slowly intertwined his fingers with yours. “Course I do.

[thesecondhandwoman]

THE PRICE OF BETRAYAL

Caitlyn x f!reader

Synopsis: Caitlyn had chose Maddie over you weeks before the battle, but after everything, you still loved her. Now in recovery, she seemed to realize her mistake of not loving you too.

Request: @nyrasproblm

The air in Piltover was heavy with smoke, the stench of burnt rubble lingering as the sounds of battle echoed through the streets. Everything had changed, and everything was in chaos. Yet, amidst the destruction and bloodshed, your mind couldn’t escape one thought: Caitlyn.

It had been days since the final battle, the battle that had torn apart Piltover’s fragile peace and brought so much loss. And yet, in the midst of everything, Caitlyn’s absence felt like the heaviest blow of all. The woman who had once been your partner, your love, was now fractured, not just physically, but emotionally.

You hadn’t seen her since the moment the battle had ended, when everything had blurred into confusion. Caitlyn had been injured—gravely so. The doctors had said she was lucky to be alive after shard had nearly pierced vital organs in her abdomen. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst was the blindness in her left eye. The doctors had done all they could, but there was no fixing it.

And worse still, Maddie, the woman who had crept into Caitlyn’s life, who had pushed you away in ways you still couldn’t fully comprehend, had betrayed them all. It was Maddie’s treachery that had nearly cost Caitlyn her life.

Now, you stood outside the makeshift infirmary, the weight of your emotions pressing on your chest. You had heard the whispers—the murmurs of what had happened in the battle. Caitlyn had been forced to kneel, Maddie holding a gun to her neck, ready to end it all. It was only by the miracle of Mel’s powers that the bullet hadn’t killed Caitlyn. Instead, it had been deflected, and Maddie was dead, a casualty of her own treachery.

You had felt a sickening mix of relief and sorrow when you had heard that Maddie was gone. Caitlyn had survived, but what had she survived for?

The woman who had once been your closest confidante had turned away from you, choosing Maddie over you, letting a wedge form between you both that could never be erased.

Yet, here you were. You hadn’t left Piltover. You hadn’t abandoned Caitlyn. Not because you thought it was the right thing to do, but because part of you still believed in her, still loved her.

It had started slowly, Caitlyn pulling away from you, her words sharp, her eyes cold. At first, you thought it was just the stress, the weight of her duties as a lawmaker and protector of Piltover. But when she started spending more and more time with Maddie, something shifted. Something in her changed.

You had tried to ignore it. Tried to chalk it up to nothing. But the truth was in her eyes every time she looked at you. The distance, the icy politeness, the way she no longer seemed to care about your presence. It hurt in ways you hadn’t expected. You had been there for her through everything, always ready to stand by her side. But when she needed you most, she had turned away.

You had confronted her one night, desperate to understand, to find answers. But all Caitlyn had done was shrug you off with a cold, emotionless stare. She had told you she didn’t have time for you anymore. The words cut deeper than any blade could.

It wasn’t just the fact that Caitlyn was with Maddie, it was the way she treated you as if you didn’t matter anymore. As if everything you’d shared, every moment, every laugh, every quiet word, had meant nothing to her.

The betrayal had shattered you.

Now, as you entered the dimly lit infirmary, the first thing you saw was Caitlyn, lying in a cot, her bandaged head turned away from the light. Her right eye was closed, and the left was bandaged, a patch covering the wound that had taken her sight. Her breath was shallow, and she didn’t seem to notice you as you stood in the doorway, your heart aching.

You took a hesitant step forward. “Caitlyn,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Caitlyn, it’s me.”

Her head turned slightly, the faintest trace of recognition flickering across her face. But her gaze was distant, cold, as if she was afraid to let anyone get too close.

“What do you want?” Her voice was low, strained, but still sharp.

You felt a pang in your chest at the bitterness in her words. This wasn’t the Caitlyn you had known—the one who would have laughed at your jokes, who would have held you close on stormy nights. This was someone else, someone broken and distant.

“I came to see if you were okay,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the wave of hurt that threatened to drown you. “I came to make sure you were alive. You nearly—”

“I’m fine,” Caitlyn interrupted, her voice weaker now. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “I never stopped worrying, Caitlyn. Even when you pushed me away, even when you chose Maddie over me.”

There was silence in the room, and you could feel her stiffen, the air between you heavy with unspoken words.

“Y/N,” she said finally, her voice breaking ever so slightly, “I don’t know what you want from me.”

Your eyes narrowed, the sting of old wounds still fresh. “I don’t want anything from you, Caitlyn. Not anymore. But I never wanted you to treat me like I was nothing. You didn’t even give me a chance to explain. You didn’t even care.”

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, a flood of emotion you had been holding back for so long.

“I loved you, Caitlyn. I would have been there for you. But you…” You couldn’t finish the sentence. The pain of it was too much.

Caitlyn turned her head away, her jaw clenched as she stared at the ceiling. “I made a mistake,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I was wrong. I let my fear control me. I pushed you away because I thought you wouldn’t understand, I thought I needed Maddie to feel something. To feel anything. But I was wrong.”

The silence that followed was heavy, and you could feel the weight of her regret in the room. Caitlyn, the strong, proud woman who had never apologized for anything, was finally admitting to her mistakes.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I was a fool. I never should have treated you like that. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

You stood there, unsure of how to respond. You had spent so many sleepless nights wondering if Caitlyn would ever come to this moment, wondering if she would ever realize how much she had hurt you. And now, here she was—broken, humbled, but still reaching out to you.

“You nearly died, Caitlyn,” you said, your voice softening. “And I nearly lost you. I would’ve never forgiven myself if you—if you…”

Your throat closed, the weight of your own words choking you.

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” Caitlyn admitted, her voice trembling. “I didn’t know how to deal with everything. But I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I shouldn’t have let Maddie come between us. She was a mistake.”

You could see the raw pain in her eyes as she spoke, the depth of her regret. And as much as the hurt still stung, you realized that Caitlyn was trying, she was trying to make things right.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen now,” she continued, her voice growing steadier, “but I want to try. If you’ll let me, I want to fix this. I want you in my life again, Y/N.”

The words hung in the air between you both, fragile, uncertain, but full of hope.

You looked at her—at the woman who had broken your heart, the woman who had now come to you with nothing but her vulnerability—and something inside you softened. The road ahead wouldn’t be easy. There would be scars, both visible and hidden, that would take time to heal. But in that moment, as you looked at Caitlyn, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back to each other.

With a small, tentative step forward, you reached for her hand. “We’ll figure it out, Caitlyn. Together.”

Caitlyn’s eyes softened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw a flicker of warmth in her gaze. It wasn’t the same as before—it couldn’t be. But it was a start.

And that was enough, to both you and her.

A/N: Oh my god, final fic of the day (literally been cranking these out since 12 am). I hope that this one was a good way to end the day off, and tomorrow should be just as crazy (multitasking fics again).

[obsessive-valentine]

Forever and Always

Platonic Vampire Family + Fem!Reader

No real TW's in this one- just sick reader and reader not believing in stranger danger lol. Also !not proof read!

Based circa 1800’s, reader has caught the attention of a vampire who’s maternal instincts have been neglected after a tragic life as a living woman and empty one as a the living dead still without the daughter she longed for.

Readers age isn't specified -though implied her childhood has passed and is anywhere from adolescence even up to young adult, tried to keep it broad (but she does come across as naive and childish.) Wrote this bc mommy issues. I think it's getting a bit lengthy so I split this into 2 parts, I'll be slowly adding to part 2 and maybe be out soon if you guys like this kinda thing.

...

It's a small town, nestled in a valley and surrounded by forests of barren trees striped bare by the harsh winter. The clouds consistently created a grey overcast. It's cold all year around and wasn't uncommon to see people tip-toeing around the icy patches on the cobblestone streets.

Smoke from the small and squished townhouses further added to the murkiness in the air, mixing with the fog, but at least it added a sense of warmth when the winds blew it towards you. It never lasted long though before the cold begins to nip at your exposed nose and ears.

It was easy to feel like you were the only one who lived in this town. The streets are eerily quiet in the mornings when you'd walk in silence with your father to his shop in town. Even when you'd get into the town square, where most people could be found if they weren't working or at school, they are all on a mission and far too cold to stop and talk. The bitter winter seemed to seep into their blood as they pushed past each other, their footsteps rushed and faces buried in their coats. Then it was the same in the evenings when you'd walk back with your father, the streets quiet and cold, your father even more so. A thick fog would roll in, and lamp lighters would be up on ladders lighting the street lights, providing some comfort but not much to the wandering mind of a young girl.

See, Father wasn't a particularly bad parent, he comes off as detached and cold only because he's so busy. Emotionally neglectful? sure. But you are one of many siblings, he has to neglect you emotionally so that he can properly focus on caring for you physically. At least that's what mother always says. She's not much better though. You wonder why they had kids if they seem so apathetic and busy all the time, it obviously doesn't bring them much joy. Had they once loved each other and were excited to raise a family? Why did it change? You don't know nor never would, they don't appreciate talking about heavy topics.

...

You were excited to help father in his shop when he proposed it to mother "I can take the girl with me if she doesn't cause trouble. And the boy will be off with his older brother in school come next month. You continue teaching the older two girls their duties" He was trying to relieve pressure from mother, as she had to do house chores and teach your sisters the duties and tasks such as weaving and sewing. It was reluctant, he didn't believe in wasting money and sending you -just a girl- to school, but this argument kept rising up and he supposed he could use some help in the shop.

You thought this was an opportunity to get close to your father but he still didn't have the time to nurture you, you couldn't help but feel disappointed and even abandoned but never would resent your father due to childish innocence you still had yet to grow out of. You clung to any praise he gave you or any time he'd nurture to your necessitates, like buying you gloves on the walk to work when you wouldn't stop rubbing your hands for warmth.

...

The first time you had seen the woman, who would change your life, it was like any other. You had survived the walk to your father's store, careful not to slip on hidden ice and peaking into expensive shop windows when your father wasn't looking. He owned a general mercantile store, items ranged anywhere from tools to odd collectables to food. It wasn't uncommon for people to come in and ask for a specific item and your father would make some deals and acquire the item that wasn't available anywhere else and have it in the store for them the next week. Many people also came in to trade items for money, you'd watch from a distance as they haggled the price both the customer and father would fight over a single penny, it's pretty funny.

You sat on the large window sill at the back of the shop, face pressed up against the cold glass watching the busy people rush around. They looked like dragons with the cold breath coming from their noses and mouths. You'd just helped your father set up the shop ready to open, forced to clean the floors and surfaces and he finished some checks and brought out a few items from the back that he mended to be ready to sell.

You'd just finished wiping away the condensation on the windows, and were given the approval to sit down for a bit "Good job, go sit down out the way, I'll call for you in a bit".

People came and went hearing the bell ding from the door opening and watching people ponder on items as father busied himself with repairing an item to sell or counting money and paperwork. Looking back out the window you locked eyes with HER- a beautiful woman, in a pretty dress and lush winter coat. She smiled with a warmth this town hadn't seen in too long, you felt a connection instantly, you longed to talk to her, but brushed it off believing you only felt that way because of the abnormal warmth she radiated.

You had to stop yourself from gawking at her expensive clothing and lush long hair that was as dark as coal and curled to frame her face perfectly. Mustering up a genuine smile you raised your hand to wave subtly. You saw her eyes flicker to the store's main windows observing the variety before seemingly deciding to come look inside the shop. Straightening up in your seat you watched her cross the cobbled street towards the shop, you shuffled up closer towards the desk your father worked at, careful to stay out of his way but curious of the woman about to enter the shop.

The deep red of her dress was even more entrancing up close and her jewellery proudly sparkled. Father greeted her and helped her find some watches kept away in an expensive glass case lined with velvet padding. "Oh, my son would love one of these" She inspected them closer making light conversation with Father. Until she lifted her eyes over to you, spotting you almost instantly watching her from behind some storage shelves.

"Seems we have another expert ready to help. Come here." she gestured with an encouraging hand, you'd been caught off guard so your step stuttered as you walked closer -checking it was okay with your father with a glance.

"Come on" she egged. You walked up to the counter where the case of watches lay on display "Could you help me pick one out? I just can't decide" she sighed but kept a gentle warm smile. Something about her voice or eyes made you hesitate, ever so slightly unsettling, you'd never been nervous to help a customer. It was an odd feeling but her presence was so genuine and even maternal that you pushed aside the trepidations and nodded, unable to speak through your tied tongue.

Father left you both to it as he continued with work and serving the few customers who came in while you both talked. "My son is a serious young man, always deep in thought. He's needed a new watch for some time now, which one do you think will suit him?" she placed two watches she'd picked from the case, in front of you.

You stumbled over your words "I'm not sure... I mean I don't know much about watches" Your eyes darted between the two beautiful watches with tiny engravings -how did they make such small details on such a hard surface? You wondered. One gold and the other silver, they are just as beautiful as each other.

She lightly laughed, you could have sworn her eyes twinkled "Don't be modest. Beauty recognises beauty, and you are quite beautiful" Your face feels hot from the compliment and partly the pressure of picking such an expensive item for her.

"I suppose if he's more of a serious soul... he'd appreciate this one more?" you'd decided on the silver one, more sleek and serious. You didn't dare to touch it and dirty it so you just gestured.

She hummed, taking a closer look. You stood fiddling with your clothes unsure if it was the right choice, until she spoke- "You are a smart girl, this one is much more suitable." she agrees putting the gold one back in the box

Since finding your voice once again you decided to ask her about certain pieces of jewellery she wore as she counted her money. She gladly engaged in conversation, even passing you a few rings or bracelets that she wore so you could look at them closer as she talked about the stones or where she got them from. You insited you shouldn't touch them as she passed a bracelet to you "I've been cleaning this morning, my hands must be dirty I shouldn't touch such a valuable thing like this." She took your hand and manually placed it in your palm "It's no bother, I insist" she encouraged.

She travels a lot, and most of what she was wearing being from a different country. You wondered how she could travel so many places in such little time, and how rich she had to be to do that, you don't think you've ever left this town. Before you could ask about her travels, being so deeply invested in talking to her you'd leaned on the front desk, ready on your elbows and tip-toes for the next story- that wouldn't come. "-Are you helping the lady or just standing around?" your father scolded one he saw you chatting to the woman unrelated to selling her the watch "Get on with your chores before lunch time comes around" he ordered.

You turned to the woman with a sheepish and apologetic smile before hurrying away further into the store. She seemed a bit agitated by being interrupted by your father but quickly covered it up to finish the transaction.

"You've picked that one ma'am?" Your Father chimed in, eager for the money coming his way.

"Yes" she handed him the watch "Your daughter has quite the eye, it's a lovely piece" he hummed back in acknowledgement but not necessarily agreeing, he counted the cash and bagged the item. She wanted to scowl at his attitude but kept composed, she looked over her shoulder for any sign of you, she could hear the broom being swept over the wood-planked floor but couldn't see you. She reluctantly left with only the silver watch.

...

You saw the woman frequently after that first meeting. It was as if she appeared whenever you needed her most—without being summoned, always close by, like a shadow lingering just beyond the edges of your world.

Sometimes you'd bump into her on your way to the bakery when Father let you have a lunch break with a few coins clutched in your hand, and she'd fall into step beside you- like you'd just summoned her. She'd ask about you, but you were always eager to get to the stories that you'd rush through formalities, she'd gladly continue her stories of the world beyond this valley.She would then buy you a pastry or two, ones you couldn't possibly get with just the few coins in your hand. You'd pocket the extra coins and have a growing stash in your pillow back at home.

and walk you back to the shop "Go on, dear," she’d say, gently nudging you back toward the door. "I’ll see you again soon." Before disappearing into the crowd.

-

On other days, when you saw her outside the shop from your window, you felt an irresistible pull. Her presence became a secret thrill, something just for you, a small rebellion against the order your father imposed. Carefully, you’d slip out the back door, the heavy wooden frame creaking in protest, but not enough to alert anyone.

You’d run out, your heart racing as you approached her, trying not to draw too much attention from anyone passing by. She always noticed you before you could speak, turning toward you with that warm, knowing smile.

"Sneaking out again, are we?" she’d tease softly, her voice almost conspiratorial. "What would your father say?"

But there was never any judgment in her words, just a hint of amusement and affection.

-

At some point, you had the sense to ask her name after realising she'd been using your name but you, in all your excitement, had yet to use hers. "Lavinia Beaumont, dear" she couldn't help but laugh a little, she was beginning to believe you'd never ask.

You blinked, the name rolling over your tongue in your mind, everything about her seems rich and beautiful, you smiled.

"Lavinia Beaumont... it sounds like royalty," you said with a playful glint in your eyes. "Are you secretly a royal? I promise I won't tell anyone." you continued half joking.

"Not quite" She smiled, before you could question further you had to leave her for the day to return to the shop.

...

It was yet another working day for you and your father, or it should have been. Lavinia had yet to see you, she couldn't even sense your presence. not wanting to believe it however she left the carriage and walked further into the streets of town.

Subtly she went out of her way to walk in front of the mercantile store you were usually found in if not nearby. Her eyes darted at each of the windows, looking inside for the sight of you sweeping, cleaning, sitting at a window or sneaking around to fiddle and poke at the new stock much to your father's dismay. But the only person in the store is your father.

She walked the town a little longer, hoping anyone of her senses would pick up on you. There was nothing and she returned home.

Lavinia did this twice more, coming in the mornings, seeing no sign of you and coming up with excuses, but it never helped to unease.

On the 3rd day, she gave up waiting and walked into the mercantile store. The bell rang above her head "Back again I see, how can I help?" your father spoke straightening up from his position at the front desk where he'd previously been writing- presumably taking stock or counting money.

"A pleasure to meet you again, I'm curious about what other beautiful pieces you have, My son was most taken with it." Lavinia replied, eyeing the glass cases, none of this jewellery she'd wear, her taste is far more expensive but she had to sell the narrative. Your father jumped at the opportunity to sell yet another pricey piece "Ah! Madam, If you’ll allow me a moment, I believe I have something that might catch your eye."" he disappeared into a back room and emerged with an envelope. "I've just had these in, I haven't had time to put onto the shelves yet but it might be of interest to you, fine work indeed." He pulled out some fine chains of silver and gold, with little stones or pearls decorating them. Lavinia couldn't care less about the jewellery but played along nevertheless.

"Beautiful" she inspected "I had thought the young lady who assisted me last time might be here today. She had such an eye for these things. Where might she be? I'm sure she could pick the finest one for me" She began to prod but making as though the thought had only just occurred to her, asked in a light, conversational tone.

"Oh, I'm sorry to disappoint but my daughter has become increasingly ill the past few days. And the physicians believe it to be consumption, but they are hopeful she'll get well soon as we caught it early" Your father replied, he fidgeted and shifted his weight continuously.

Lavinia had long set down the jewellery and stood listening intensely. She dreaded it but had suspected something greater was at play- "I'm so sorry to hear that, such a sweet girl shouldn't go through that" She was secretly seething, her girl is in pain somewhere and Lavinia- for the first time in a long time- was helpless. He cleared his throat awkwardly "Yes, I'm sure it will all smooth out"

...

"The girl is sick! You know better than anyone she won't overcome this, not with those treatments-" Lavinia seethed at the thought pacing her husband's study, where he sat once writing at his desk but now interrupted and pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

He stood up ready for this argument to end, this girl had caused a lot of ruckus in the house since Lavinia had begun talking about you and he's about fed up "-We are surrounded by death, I thought you had come to terms with that long ago. Plenty of good people have died early in life and will continue to be that way, death doesn't discriminate. She's just one of an incomprehensible amount of average people experiencing an average tragedy" In some sick way he's ready for your death, so his wife overcomes this unhealthy attachment to some average mortal girl.

"But she could be more than that. She's more than that to me. And you know what I mean by that, you've been denying me this instinct for decades and you're cruel for that." Lavinia had to step away from the deeply unsettling conversation, turning her back to storm out but turning around last minute before slamming the door "I am the very thing that holds this family together and you'd have nothing without me" her teeth are gritted, her voice low and damning. She's never had any great quarrels with her husband, maybe a healthy few in the past few centuries but nothing that could make her question his love for her or hers for his.

...

"Father, a word?" Lucien, one of the sons of Lavinia and Soren, entered the study where hours had passed of Soren thinking over the conversation. Soren gave a brief nod busy putting on his coat and finding his gloves that he always seems to misplace, he supposed it's been a while since he's needed them to go out anywhere. "You can't be serious" Lucien scowled, now noticing what his father is doing.

"Get on with it boy" Soren scolds Lucien's disrespectful tone. "NO! You're going to get the girl, aren't you!? You're giving into Mother because of one little quarrel? You're putting our whole family, everything we've built at risk for an average mortal girl?" Lucien scolded, his face twisting in a mix of emotions, unable to grasp the concept.

Soren ignored Lucien's tone, whereas if it was any other day he wouldn't stand it -he's simply too tired to argue more "This is something I should have seen coming a long time ago. This isn't a passing interest or quarrel, you should know your Mother better than that. She's the reason we exist in any form of peace, the family would be much worse off without this gir-" Lucien interupts with "- We've done fine without this mortal so far!"

Soren glares at his son "I'd appreciate if you don't interrupt, that is childish. I don't expect you to understand your mother's need for her as you have never seen her broken" Soren pauses to grab his gloves out of their hiding place.

He continues "You're right, we've got this far without her. But this denial- this gap in your mother's life has been building in the background for centuries. She sees potential -so I suppose I do to" Before Lucien can argue more Soren leaves the room headed for the front door.

He passes the younger of the two, Dorian, standing close by "It's lousy to eavesdrop, Dorian" The boy grins in response, clearly curious about this change and more accepting than his brother.

...

You believed the reaper had come for your soul when you saw that man standing in the doorframe to your room. It had to be the dead of night, there was no sound to be heard or light to be seen aside from the dim glow of the moon. Your candle on the nightstand had long been burned out.

Still dazed and lethargic from sleep and sickness you blinked a few times at the unmoving figure which studied you, you then took a deep breath in, which rattled in your chest readying yourself for what monster you might face.

Courage is mustered and you manage to ask "Who are you?" quietly and sounding sickly but the monster in the shadow seems to hear you fine. "Soren. Your father sent me -I'm here to help, I'll have you healed by morning" his voice is monotone, but at least not one of a story book monster you'd expected.

You felt bitterness at the mention of your father's name, once you had given him every excuse in the book for why he didn't show his love for you. But the past few days had been rough, he wouldn't even look at you, unsure what to do with you, sending doctors and medicine but not the comfort you longed for. You just wanted reassurance, just love.

Soren steps into the room a bit further, the wallpaper a childish floral pattern. You had trinkets strewn about, papers of scribbled writing and doodles on the little oak wood desk, a doll here and there that you couldn't part with once your childhood had finished.

He looked back at you, pale and exhausted. Your brows furrowed while you tried to make sense of the man. He felt an unexplainable emotion, maybe closer to remorse but more complex than that. The innocence he hadn't seen in a long time, you'd struggle for a while once you were turned - it happened with both his sons and wife. Maybe you'd wish you had died here on this bed, maybe you'd fill the house with anger or maybe sorrow.

But in the grand scheme of things that period will be not even a fraction of your greatest purpose. He sucked in a deep breath out of habit not need, he pushed back the hesitation. For a greater purpose. For Lavinia. For the sake of his family, which you will become.

In cold resolve he walked towards the bed, you'd live on in a way, he wasn't lying. Your true death would be wasted potential, you'd learn to be content with undead like he once had to.

"How?" you questioned he blinked back into reality "How can you heal me in mere hours?" It's a reasonable question, but an incredibly complex answer he didn't have time for.

"You just have to trust me" He replied simply "We have to go to my office first, you'll be in your bed, healthy, come morning. I promise" He continued, seeing your weariness.

Your hand lifted and a small finger stuck out "Promise?" you asked. He recognised the childish gesture and returned it with his gloved hand, hiding how unaturally cold he is "I promise" he repeated back. He wasn't really lying, you would be saved from consumption in a couple of hours and sleeping in your bed -be it in your new home.

He lifted you into his arms, one under your legs and the other around your back as you rest your head on his chest. You both left the room then house without another word never to be seen by the sleepy, moody little town ever again.

You fell asleep -the last deep sleep you'd experience as a living being. He was careful not to wake you on the ride home.

...

Lavinia now had found out what was happening after Dorian ran to tell her the news -ever loyal to his mother. "Fathers left to get the girl" he gently told her as he stuck his head through the crack of the door.

Lavinia straightened up from her seat where she sat embroidering to pass the time "You don't mean it? When did he leave?" she haphazardly dropped the items on a side table and rushed past him.

"Not long ago" Dorian followed after his mother "How could this be?" she more so muttered to herself but Dorian replied anyways "A change of heart I suppose" Dorian was quite amused by it all, more from shock not meaning to be insensitive. Its rare that something of interest or chaotic happens in the house that he cant helped but get worked up a bit.

Lavinia paced the entryway waiting for Soren to return, hopefully with you. Dorian sat on the staircase a bit further back keeping his mother company while Lucien sulked in his personal study, wanting nothing more to do with this mess.

The carriage and hooves could be heard on the gravel path leading to the house. Lavinia couldn't wait any longer and opened the door welcoming in a cold draft as she stepped outside to watch the carriage come into sight.

And there you were in Soren's arms, out cold, but looking so peaceful. He stepped down onto the gravel and Lavinia almost aggressively snatched you from his hold.

Instead, she gently took you, not to wake you. Seeing you up close was a shock for her, only remembering you as that lively town girl. Not the sickly pale, exhausted and wasting girl consumed by sickness.

"Oh my baby" she whispered brushing the hair away from your fevered face, then clutching you closer, cradling you like one would a baby. For a fleeting moment, her eyes met with Soren -her hand briefly brushed over the side of his face, a quick gesture of appreciation. He stood unmoving and unreadable but allowed the touch and connection.

She then rushed you inside before the frost of the night woke you up, her footsteps hurried but careful. Her head crowded with one thought only; 'you're safe with me now, forever and always'

[paceprompting]

almost there

written for ‘icy roads’ | wc: 991 # | steddie | rated: t | cw: no warnings apply | tags: established relationship, alpha steve harrington, beta eddie munson, mention of steve's rut

@steddieholidaydrabbles

Holy shit, he was driving the Beemer.

He was driving Steve’s car.

In the dark, in the snow, on a road were he couldn’t tell what was asphalt and what might be black ice. The headlights were better than ones on his van, but he was also half-distracted by Steve in the passenger seat.

Panting, hands dug into the leather of his seat, and sweat lining his hairline. He’d stripped off his jacket before getting inside, but it did little to ease the rut thrumming its way through his veins.

Steve’s body heat warmed up the inside of the car practically by itself. Eddie could feel it radiating on the side of his face—Steve’s need, his want. He’d had to try very hard not to stare at Steve tenting his jeans as they rushed out of the bar to head home. Or as Eddie tried to keep the car in a straight line.

Wayne wasn’t an alpha, most people in his family weren’t, so Eddie hadn’t seen the signs. Steve scenting Eddie, his clothes, at every opportunity and not just when he wanted to be cute. Wearing less layers even in the middle of winter because his body was working overtime to get itself ready.

For four days where Steve would be half out of his normal mind, following instinct, following want. He knew he wasn’t built for it, not for what Steve needed—even if he had managed to take his knot before. When they could go slow, and Eddie wouldn’t drive Steve mad having to wait and prep and take breaks.

Eddie tapped his fingers on the wheel, trying not to let the sounds of Steve’s soft moaning get to him as much as it was. “Steve, are you sure you don’t want someone else. It’s not a big deal, I swear—shit!”

The car swerved a bit on the road, the smallest patch of ice under the tire. Just enough to lose control for a second, Eddie pumping the breaks slow despite how fast his heart was beating.

“No,” Steve gasped, hardly caring about Eddie’s panic. “Just you.”

Steve hadn’t had a rut since they got together. Given a biological break, alphas only had to deal with it twice a year, and almost like a belated six-month anniversary present, Steve was running headlong into his.

But Eddie was…he was a beta.

And it was all fine and dandy the rest of the time. Eddie was usually neutral to the hormonal nonsense. He could smell Steve when he didn’t wear cologne or when he’d been out of the shower for a while—sage and something like fresh woods in rain.

Steve said he smelled mostly like citrus and cinnamon.

They hit the streetlights of the main road through town, but Eddie didn’t feel relieved. Sure, right now, when Steve was just Steve, and Eddie could be everything he needed. Then, they’d be two days into it and Eddie would need a break because he was just a beta, and Steve’s alpha would suffer.

“Eddie,” Steve panted, his hand scrabbling for Eddie’s arm.

He gave Steve his hand, figuring they were close enough to the house to risk driving one-handed. Just a few turns, otherwise a straight line.

“We’re almost there,” he said.

“God, I hope so,” Steve muttered, his other hand rubbing himself through his jeans.

Eddie was glad, in that moment, that he couldn’t smell Steve’s arousal as well as an alpha or an omega. Otherwise, he’d have pulled the car overlong before he slammed the car into park in Steve’s driveway. He would have let them stay in the car when Steve unbuckled his seatbelt and crossed over the center console to press a hard kiss onto Eddie’s mouth.

“Steve, Steve,” Eddie gasped through frantic kisses. “Let’s get inside. Your own bed. Someone’s going to see us out here.”

Steve growled deep in his chest, hands digging into Eddie’s sides. He must have been holding off until they reached the house, nonverbal as he unbuckled Eddie’s seatbelt for him and then opened the driver’s door. He wasn’t yet to the point of climbing out after Eddie, but as soon as the front door closed behind him, Steve pushed Eddie against it.

He stuck his nose into the hollow of Eddie’s throat, inhaling deeply. Eddie shivered, carding his hand into the thickest part of Steve’s hair and let Steve have his fill.

“Want you, Eddie.”

He thought about being selfish and following Steve upstairs to his bedroom. Where they’d make a nest from Steve’s closet, the drawer Eddie kept at the house, and the comforter they shared every night. And it would be nothing but Eddie and Steve until the rut ended.

He deserved better than that.

“Steve, I’m not enough.” Eddie tried to squirm away, his chest aching at the thought of leaving Steve alone to call someone who could help him. Who wouldn’t be worn out halfway through, no matter how much Eddie would want to keep going.

Steve grumbled, dragging his nose up Eddie’s jaw and pressing it against his cheek. In a low voice, he said, “How many times have you told me that all that designation stuff is bullshit?”

To a point, Eddie wanted to say. All the grandstanding alpha or submissive omega roles were bullshit, but it was a hell of a lot easier to help an alpha through a rut as an omega. It just was.

“I don’t need an omega just because.” Steve held Eddie tight, breathing in his scent as Eddie rubbed gently at his scalp. “Please, I want you to be here.”

Eddie closed his eyes, breathing in time with Steve. Steve was pushing it trying to hold off his rut for much longer, and Eddie couldn’t ignore what they both wanted. Steve had never cared that he was a beta.

He only wanted Eddie.

Eddie eased Steve’s head up, pressing their foreheads together, and said, “I’ll stay, Steve. I’ll stay.”

[patscorner]

What Love Broke

Summary: You and your girlfriend go through a rough patch

wc: 2,144

Contains: angst, couple kisses, reader petty asf

______________________________

You don't exactly remember what started the argument, but you knew it had escalated far more than it should've.

“I'm just saying- it's so unfair how you can't manage to come to a single one of my games when I've been to every one of yours!”

“Oh, I'm sorry that I'm busy with actual things to do. Maybe if you played an actual sport, I'd come to one!” Neshy shouted back at you, her accent thick.

Things have been tense for a while between you and Ines, the stress of your upcoming softball tournament and her basketball tournament stopping you from seeing each other. The wall between you two was built by two people who were so in love that it was painful.

Now here you both are, arguing in front of your closest friends, desperately trying to hold onto the last string that connected your hearts.

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

Ines’s face flashed a twinge of regret, but quickly recovered. “Nothing, look-”

“No, I fucking knew it! I knew that's why you never came to games. You weren't busy, you just didn't fucking care!”

The evening started fine, some of the team gathering in Paige’s dorm to hang out before practice the next morning. Ines had been unusually cold, and everyone noticed her icy demeanor. It was embarrassing for you, so you tried to subtly ask if you'd done something, only to be met with the same frozen heart.

You tried to let it go, but as the night went on, you’d had enough. You had dragged her into a separate room in an attempt to fix whatever you had broken.

Which led you to now, the pair of you, face to face, shouting at each other.

“I care! All I do is care! You're so fucking ungrate-”

“Bullshit, Neshy!” You ran your hand over your face, a weak attempt to calm yourself.

“How can you call me ungrateful when all-”

“Because, with all I do in this relationship, you don't do anything to match it!” her accent ringing through the air thickly.

“With all you do?!! What about all the time I've put in?! All the time spent watching your fucking games, instead of doing homework of my own! All the times I've stayed up going to games, then going to an afterparty, just to watch you get drunk!” your voice shakes at this, but it doesn't matter, not to her anyway.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know it was such an inconvenience for you to support your girlfriend!” Ines had been pacing this whole time, clearly overwhelmed, and normally you'd respect it. You drop it and pick it up later, but this time, this time, she was gonna listen to what you had to say.

You scoff out a dry laugh. “It's not an inconvenience, Ines, it's just not reciprocated. And until you figure that out, don't bother coming.” You turn to face the door, tired of this argument, tired of fighting, tired of this.

“So that's it?! We're gonna leave it like this?!” She asked, her voice carrying a different kind of weight to it.

“I'm tired, Neshy. I can't keep fighting you like this.” You say spinning around.

She's quiet for a bit, clearly thinking of where to go from here. You can almost hear her thoughts, her face flipping through emotions, until she picked one. The same one she's had all day.

“Don't come to any of my games, then.” She hissed out.

Your heart stuttered, but you didn't let her see that. “Okay.” Is all you say before you turn around and leave, closing the door behind you.

You walk out, finally allowing the tears to fall before remembering you weren't in your own dorm, meeting the eyes of your girlfriend's teammates.

Their eyes carry pity and sympathy as they reach yours.You wipe your eyes before grabbing your phone and mumbling a goodbye.

It's a day before the game between Uconn and Syracuse, the second round of the NCAA Tournament. It's been 3 days, 13 hours, 6 minutes, and 40 seconds (but who's counting) since you've talked to Ines. During those painful hours, you've left your dorm once. One to return a notebook to Paige that you'd borrowed for math help.

You'd seen your girlfriend around campus a couple of times, but quickly avoided her gaze. Your entire goal was to cool off before you went to the game the next day, but that plan failed when you returned to your dorm to your room unlocked.

At first, you panicked, but when you saw Ines in the kitchen, you let out a breath of relief. You set your keys on the counter and your bags on the floor.

“What're you doing here?” You ask softly.

She yelps, putting her hand on her chest. “Jesus, you scared the fuck outta me.”

“Sorry.” you mumble.

“It's okay.”

The silence between you both is not the comfortable one you were used to. This silence was loud, filled with the unspoken words of your hearts. You stare at your feet, avoiding the intense gaze from Neshy.

“What're you doing here?” You repeat.

“I-I, uh, left my jersey here. I didn't think you'd be home soon.” she whispers the last part.

You raise your eyebrows. “So that's why you're in my kitchen?”

Her eyes widened. “Wha- oh, uh. I jus- I noticed your Brita was out of water, so I was just filling it up.”

Your heart shattered. Even after all the fighting you two have done, she still shows that she cares.

You nod. “Thank you, that's- that's very sweet.”

She just hums in acknowledgement, before grabbing her jersey off the counter and heading for the door. You watch her as she turns around to you.

“Are you coming to the game?”

“Oh-uh. I don't know.” You whisper.

“Please.” She begs.

“Neshy.”

“Jus- think about it. Please. I need you there.”

You sigh. “I'll see.”

“Okay.” She opens the door, but turns around and walks back towards you, pulling you into her chest by your waist.

Her lips interlock with yours briefly, a silent plea for you to go.

“I love you.” she whispers.

“I love you, too.” you smile sadly.

And with that, she walks out and closes the door behind her.

Tomorrow comes sooner than you wish, and so does the game. After careful consideration, (and a long conversation with Nika) you decide to go to the game. Even though you were still upset, and the relationship was far from fixed, Ines was your girlfriend, and you were going to support her, regardless of hurt feelings. Plus, you were still friends with the rest of the girls, and wanted to support them as well.

You still didn't want to talk to Neshy, and you made it a goal to avoid her at all costs. At that point, you knew you were being petty, but you didn't care.

Uconn won the game, Ines scoring three 3s and getting a crucial steal at the end of the third quarter. Even though her head was elsewhere, she played well. As you sit in the stands, you help but feel disappointment. She never cared enough to come to one of your games. She never experienced being in the stands, cheering on her girlfriend like you had. She had no idea what that was like and didn't seem to care to find out. Regardless, you couldn't help but feel your heart swell with pride for her. You considered staying and waiting for her, like you usually do. You were undoubtedly happy for her, but she hurt you. You wanted to stay. You wanted to hug her and whisper her congratulations. You wanted to kiss all the angry words you'd exchanged away. That's what you wanted.

But what you needed to do was protect your peace. You needed her to care. You needed 50-50, not 75-25. You needed change. Something had to change.

Your heart fought with your feet as you walked out of the stadium, nobody stopping you.

A knock sounded startled you awake. You groaned as you rolled over, ignoring the interruption of your sleep. Well, you tried, but it didn't work, as whoever it was, knocked again. You grumbled as you rolled out of bed, cursing whoever woke you up at– you check your phone –3:23am.

You swing the door open, to see none other than your girlfriend, and boy, did she look pissed. Her eyes were red and puffy, and bags stark against her pale skin.

“Where were you?” She demands.

“Ines, it's three thirty in the fucking morning. Do you really want to do this right now?”

“You seriously didn't come? I thought you'd be mature enough to put one stupid fight behind us, but you clearly aren't. Like, I'd love to hear the reasoning.”

“Neshy-”

“No, no, actually, never mind. I don't wanna hear whatever your bullshit excuse would be.”

“Ines.” she was spiraling right in front of you, and it was the hardest thing for you to watch.

“I don't even know why I came here. You probably don't even have a good reason. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you forgot.” She rambles. “I can't do this, goodnight.”

And with that she walked away. You contemplated letting her go. She told you what she was thinking, and she seemed pretty sure of herself. But you shook your head, clearing them of those thoughts. She didn't mean it, and you both knew that. You knew that if you let her leave, she might not ever come back.

You stepped out of your dorm in your her large tee-shirt and sweats. “I was at the game.” You call after her. She pauses before looking back at you. She'd made it halfway down the hall at that point. Damn that athletic speed.

“W-what?” Her eyes twinkle with surprise and her eyebrows furrow.

“Come inside.” You say, moving to make room for her in the doorway. You watch her as she walks back to you, pausing for a moment, seemingly looking for permission. The politeness is foreign to you, but you respect it.

You nod before following her inside. She walked into your dorm, and stood at the island.

You wordlessly walk to the refrigerator and get the Brita filter that she'd filled, pouring you both glasses of water. You walk up to her, chest to chest, and set the glass on the table. You look at her, and wipe her tears gently. You feel her hands hesitantly hover over your waist. You almost roll your eyes. It didn't have to be like this.

“You came…? But I didn't see you, a-and you didn't say hi after.”

“I know. I'm sorry. I should've said hi, but I was still pissed.” You whisper, wrapping your arms around her neck.

You both look at each other for a beat before you speak again.

“It can't be like this.” She hums and nods in agreement. “I know.”

“I just need fifty-fifty. I understand if you don't have time during the week, you're an athlete, I'm an athlete, and it's bound to happen. I get all of that. But it can't be like this.” You gesture between the two of you.

Ines nods again. “Okay. I'm sorry. I'm just stressed, I didn't mean anything I said, I was just upset.” She mutters shamefully.

“I know.” You say leaning close to her. Your lips ghost across hers and your heart pounds at the way her breath hitches.

Ines pushes her lips against yours, whining so quiet you almost miss it. Almost.

You break the kiss, locking eyes with her once again. “It's late. Let's go to bed. We can talk in the morning.” You whisper. She nods and you can see the exhaustion set in. She probably hasn't slept in days.

You lead her to your room, falling into the familiar rhythm that is cuddling. You face her as she wraps her arms around your waist, your face buried in the crook of her neck. You listen to Ines take a deep breath, inhaling your scent as if you'll disappear. You press a kiss on her collarbone, humming.

“Neshy?” You whisper. She opens one eye, grunting in acknowledgment.

“You ever yell at me in front of the team again, I will beat your ass.” You smile, but she knows you're dead serious.

“No need, KK said she'd beat my ass if I ever made you cry again.” You let out a soft giggle, moving impossibly closer to her.

“Good.”

“Mhm.” She mumbles, closing her eyes once again. You shift up to kiss her lips before returning to your previous position. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, my love.”

Even though your relationship was far from fixed, there's no harm in a night's sleep before you mend what love broke.

______________________________

taglist: @wintersstan @bueckerslover @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @girlokwhatever @pbloverr @breeloveschris-deactivated20240 @cosmopretty @hellokittyfeenie @averagelobotomyenjoyer @elliewilliamsthang

[gifs-of-puppets]

A Muppet Family Christmas (1987)

[puddingyun]

sensitive . ݁₊ ⊹ k.ys

yeo x reader

18+ mdni

: 1.6k words, childhood friends, smut, dacryphilia, handjob/blowjob :

day 6 of fff24 ♡

Yeosang had always been softer than other guys you knew. He didn't care for the ugly parts of growing up - the playground fights, the bitching and backstabbing, the grazing of knees and spraining of ankles - and instead preferred the quieter, more beautiful things. He liked playing video games by himself, watching dust motes dance in the sun, and sipping on strawberry-banana smoothies when everybody else was seeing who could down the most malt chocolate shakes without puking. 

It had always been quietly presumed that he would grow out of his softness when he got older, replace his naïveté with a little harshness and sharpen the gentle parts of him. This never happened, though. When he was younger, Yeosang had been the boy who needed a kiss to his knee before a band-aid could be applied, and now that he was older he still needed a kiss to his bruises before he could forget about their dull ache. As much as some people liked to turn their noses up at those parts of him, you couldn't help but find it endearing. He was sweeter than anybody else you knew, the same way a bruised peach was sweeter than a firm one. 

Even this afternoon when you'd been walking back to his place in the snow you could feel his hand holding on tight to yours each time you walked over an icy patch, scared to slip and hurt himself. Each time you glanced over at him and saw his rosy cheeks you were reminded of his clumsy caution when he was younger, tiptoeing when everybody else would run. 

You could hear him in the shower from where you sat on the sofa, his soft sighs interrupting the water drumming against tile. You turned down the sound of the TV and listened to him from afar, all of his faint sounds and movements filling the apartment like a radio show playing from next door. 

"I'm sleepy," was the first thing he murmured as he stepped out of the bathroom, dragging his feet along the floor on his way to the sofa. He sat down beside you with a long huff and then slowly leaned into you, his face pressing into the crook of your neck so that you could feel his breath on your skin. "Aren't you sleepy yet?"

"Only a little. I just wanted to watch TV for a while," you replied, raising a hand to run your fingers through Yeosang's hair. When your nails scratched his scalp you felt him melt into you even more, moving to wrap his arms around you. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just tired," he mumbled, withdrawing his face from your neck to see what it was that you were watching on TV. You watched the way he blinked slowly, trying to figure out what was happening in the middle of the episode he'd just walked in on. He was sweet and fuzzy around the edges the way you'd always known him to be. 

"Hey," you whispered, smoothing some of his hair out of his face. "C'mere."

He was only a little curious when he turned his head back towards you, lips parted and ready to ask what was wrong. When you leaned in and pressed a soft peck to his lips his expression quickly changed to a smile, hands holding onto your waist tightly as he chased after your lips, kissing you again and again and again until you were breathless. 

"I thought you said you were tired," you teased, kissing the space between his eyebrows.

"I am, but..." he started and just as quickly trailed off, his cheeks flushed and hands wandering up beneath your top. 

"But what, Yeo?" you asked, already smirking. As though on cue, Yeosang blinked twice and his eyes turned shiny with tears, glimmering in the low glow coming from the TV. 

"We could kiss more," he mumbled, thumbs dragging along the skin beneath your breasts as though testing the waters. You watched, amazed as always, as his eyes remained a pool of unshed tears even as he tried to blink them away. They stayed there, not spilling or going away, and Yeosang's cheeks only turned darker the longer you went without answering.

"Okay," you replied finally, smiling at his relieved expression. You pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips and laid a hand on his chest. "Lay back."

Yeosang did as told, obedient and malleable as always. You placed your hands on his shoulders and your legs on either side of him so that you were pressed together, his arousal from the kisses you'd exchanged already obvious. Slowly, so slow it ached, you leaned down and kissed him again. This time his tongue swiped against your lips, hot and needy, and when you opened your mouth to let him in he groaned low in his throat. 

His hands explored while your tongue licked into your mouth, pushing up your shirt only to travel back down to your hips before his blunt nails were digging into your ass, pulling you closer to him as though you weren't already as close as you could get. You took his bottom lip between your teeth, sucking and letting go with a soft nip that made Yeosang moan. When you pulled back a string of saliva connected your lips for a second before snapping and disappearing. You giggled, watching as the first tear rolled down Yeosang's temple. 

"Are you okay?" you asked, even though you already knew the answer. Yeosang nodded, flustered, and sniffled. You felt him grind his hips up into you, eyes fluttering shut as he did.

"Yeah. I just like you a lot," he admitted breathily. He looked beautiful, lips slick with spit and lashes wet with tears he hadn't yet shed. You leaned in and kissed along his jaw, right up to his ear, and then kissed down his neck, stopping your trail only to bite down on his skin. "Fuck-"

Yeosang's moan trailed off into a whimper as you sucked on the skin until you'd left behind a dark, splotchy hickey there, the indents of your teeth still visible around it. You glanced up at Yeosang and noticed that his temples were both wet now, glistening each time he blinked. You pressed a quick kiss there, tasting the salt of his tears on your lips, and then moved to position yourself between his legs. 

"Are you going to...?" Yeosang asked quietly, his voice wobbly and his hips bucking up into nothing. 

"Do you want me to?" you asked, smiling when Yeosang nodded. "Okay, baby."

He was only a little squirmy when you pulled down his sweatpants and underwear to reveal his dick, already hard and leaking precum against his tummy. You smiled, leaning in to kiss the base while you watched his expression twitch from the slightest touch. 

His soft panting rose to a string of moans as you took his dick in your hand, rubbing your thumb against the frenulum and watching how more precum oozed out of him. You couldn't help but smile as you began to stroke him, each movement wetter than the last. Even now he was sweet, his cheeks wet when he lifted his head to look down at you. It was all you could do not to shove your free hand in your pants and get off to the sight of him.

"Fuck, that feels good," Yeosang moaned, thrusting up to meet your movements so that he was fucking your fist. His abs tensed with each movement and then spasmed with each little hiccup and sob that managed to escape his lips. Leaning down to suck on the head of his dick you watched him press a hand over his mouth to contain his noises, moans muffled as you flicked your tongue against the head of his dick. 

"Cum whenever you want, Yeosangie," you reassured him, eyeing the hand balled into a fist at his side. With each stroke of his dick you twisted your wrist a little, watching how fat, hot tears escaped Yeosang's eyes with each blink. He threw his head back and moaned loudly, dropping his hand from his mouth to let his sounds out into the apartment. You giggled, leaning down to kiss down one of the veins that ran along his cock.

"That feels - fuck - that feels so good," he sobbed, voice strained as he fucked into your hand. "Can I really cum whenever?"

"Of course, love," you hummed, kneading at his thigh with your free hand. "Whenever you want."

This was all the permission he needed, because as soon as you put his mouth back on him he was spilling his load on your tongue, whimpering and sobbing as you sucked him off through his orgasm. Even as you lifted your head and swallowed what he'd given you he was still hiccuping, tears rolling down his cheeks like a waterfall. Except this waterfall wasn't thundering or dangerous, it was meek and sweet. 

"Good?" you asked as you moved back up to kiss him once more, the taste of cum and tears and spit all mixing to create an odd but familiar flavour. 

"Mhm," Yeosang sniffed. He smiled up at you. "Now I'm really tired."

"Let me go take a shower then we can get into bed," you assured him, stroking his hair out of his face to kiss his forehead. 

As you stood, you glanced back at Yeosang, his face all messy with tears and his nose and cheeks pink, and felt your heart (as well as something else) throb for him. 

You really did love how soft Yeosang was.

[screamingoverfiction]

Biofreeze at Bedtime

Had this idea whilst I was putting on a Biofreeze patch on my shoulder. Just a short little thought. Simon Riley x f!- reader. SFW

"Here?" Y/n asks, softly touching the back of Simon's shoulder. Simon grimaces and sucks a breath through his teeth, pain shooting through his shoulder where he'd pulled a muscle.

"Yeah, right there," He murmurs through gritted teeth, his eyes closed as she touches his sore aching muscle.

She opens the Biofreeze patch, unpeels it, and gently sticks it to the back of Simon's shoulder, gently smoothing it over to make sure it stays on.

"There you go, old man, all better, eh?" Y/n laughs, gently kissing his temple.

Simon snorts a soft laugh, shaking his head and giving her a soft glare.

"Old man?" He questions, raising a brow as he shifts to face her, his hands settling themselves on her waist. Y/n just smiles, leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on his lips.

"Anythin' else bothering you?" She asks, running a hand through his short dirty blond hair.

"Nothin' at the moment," Simon says, tracing circles on her waist as he looks at her, his brown eyes exhausted, yet looking at her with love and adoration.

"Smells like lavender-" He murmurs as the scent of the Biofreeze wafts over them. It's cooling on his shoulder, and the relief is almost instant.

"You said you didn't care which scent I bought," Y/n challenges back with a soft chuckle.

"I like it," Simon mutters quietly, laying his head on her chest.

This had become a sort of routine for them, Simon would come through the door after a long and exhausting mission.

Y/n would jump up and rush to him, hugging him like it was the last time, careful not to squeeze too tight since he was always sore and something always hurt.

She would make him a cup of tea, and they'd sit in their bed as she stuck the patches of icy-hot to wherever hurt after his mission.

Simon sighs, closing his eyes as they lay back in their bed. Y/n runs her fingers through his hair as he drifts into sleep in her arms,

"I'm glad you're home, Simon," She whispers in his ear, kissing his cheek before staying quiet to let him sleep.

"I'm glad too," He whispers back, the soft beating of her heart and the sound of her breathing lulling him to sleep.

[instant-delusions]

I am so glad you’re taking reqs!! Beach sex with rafayel on my mind 24/7 😔😳

not u reading my mind...💓💓

☆

𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐮𝐩! ˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡°

𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥 𝐱 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐰: 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐜𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐬, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯, 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫

'it's 30°C in linkon right now, people! that means swimming, beach parties, sex on the beach, and beaches."

you groaned at the weather reporter's distasteful pun and reached out to turn the volume of your mini radio down. huffing, you kneeled on your beach towel, re-knotting the strings of your bikini top. your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head when you felt stares on you, clenching your fist, you turned around to give whatever man thinks he has the audacity to-

"rafayel." you exclaimed in a relieved tone, letting your fist sink. said man cocked his head to the side with his signature smile - he was wearing dark blue swimming trunks and a creamy shirt, which he left unbuttoned. sunglasses sat on his purple hair, and the sun shined so brightly on him, it almost made his strands look lavender. "is an excuse of a man giving you trouble?" he asked, his voice laced with a tilt of threat. you shook your head, stretching out your legs and supporting your upper body with your arms to look at him. "i'd take care of that myself." you started, pursing your lips, "what're you doing here? i didn't think you'd be the type to enjoy public beaches."

the artist crouched down to be on eye level with you and began to draw random shapes into the sand. "you'd be right. i'm just passing through to the private beach i rented." he pointed his finger westways, signaling to a lonely patch of sand surrounded by trees. you gawked at him after the words 'rented' and 'private beach' left his throat and shook your head in disbelief. "rich people have weird hobbies."

rafayel let out a fake 'ha, ha.' but the grin on his face was genuine. letting his magenta eyes travel around the beach, he took in the empty beer bottles and weird people hanging around. "come, join me. this place sucks."

so you did. even though your crocs were filling up with hot sand, it was thrilling to have a beach just for the two of you. after placing your (definitely not spongebob printed) bath towel, rafayel immediately lifted you over his shoulder and dropped you into the icy, salty seawater. resurfacing, you gasped - pulling your wet hair back from your face.

"you."

just hearing the pure, hot anger in your tone, rafayel booked it into the other direction. "you motherfucker!" you sprinted after him, hunter senses kicking in until you tackled him onto the ground. "you're under arrest, rafayel." a cheshire cat-like grin formed on his face, his eyes lighting up with mischief. "what're you gonna do to me, miss hunter?" he began, leaning closer to your face. "what's my sentence?" he whispered, slowly turning both of you around. feeling the energy switch abruptly, you broke eye contact. "i'll...keep you in a small fishbowl, like cosmo and wanda."

letting out a chuckle, he kissed your bare shoulder. "doesn't seem that bad." nuzzling deeper into your neck, he pressed hot mouthed kisses to your throat and collarbone, making you whine out needily. "please, rafa. not here, they'll see." locking eyes with him, you knew this was a useless battle. his eyes were glazed over, a hunger you knew all too well reflecting in them. "I don't care." he said, voice muffled by your skin. spreading your legs, you gave him space to settle, which he took with delight. "seems like you don't care, either." you reacted with a pout, not wanting to admit you were down bad this immensely for him. "I'm still dripping from your attack. it must taste bad. or maybe it'll make a fish like you nostalgic."

rafayel laughed at your attempts to cover your shyness, finding it weirdly endearing. it is very unlike him to choose to stay quiet, but he did - drawing a map from your collarbone, between your chest and down to your waist with his lips, wetting them with seawater and the taste of you. he tightened the grip on your thighs once you started squirming, letting his other hand travel just a bit higher to undo the strings of your bikini and let it fall down your legs.

"fuck, I can't wait to taste you." rafayel rasped, guiding your legs onto his shoulders. a bright blush erupted on your cheeks, and you covered your face with your hands, panicking slightly. it's not like this is the first time you've slept with him, though somehow the same feeling pooled in your tummy - a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. rafayel's passionate and upfront personality makes sex feel so much more like an adventure. kissing your inner thighs, he teased what was about to happen, making you cage him in as if it were a reflex. "tsk." he tutted, tapping his finger on the plump of your upper legs to warn you. "behave."

it's very unlike you to submit, but for him, you do. you arch your back, whine and moan as he parts your wet folds with his fingers and licks long stripes between them, stopping everytime once he reaches your clit - kissing, biting and sucking it. thinking about having the most sought-after man in linkon between your legs makes this even more intense, and you feel yourself getting wetter. rafayel notices this as well, pumping a finger into your hole to make more of your juices seep out. he just liked the taste of you too much, he can't help it.

"get on your stomach." he said, watching you turn over. luckily, you caught a short glimpse of his reddened ears and his wet chin. once you were positioned to his liking, he gave your ass a spank, watching it jiggle with delight. a yelp escaped you as he did it again, grabbing it forcefully and pulling you flush against his hardened cock. feeling him pulse through the fabric of his trunks had you mewling, grinding your backside against him feverishly. "impatient, huh?" he commented hotly, clumsily pulling his drooling cock out, "me too."

all this waiting had you dizzy. grunting, you reached back and took his cock in you hand, to which he let out a surprised gasp. you felt it oozing out pre and almost moaned at how turned on your lover was too. not-so gently, you guided him between your folds and pressed your ass to his pelvis, taking it all at once. feeling him fill you up so nicely, his tip prodding at your cervix and every twitch of his pale dick mingling into your walls made you moan deliciously.

"fuck, (y/n), you're driving me insane." he whined, pushing his hand to your upper back to press you down, rafayel started to languidly drag his cock along your walls. everyone knows this artist isn't known for his patience or for being monotone, so the rhythm faltered quickly, ending in him thrusting into you so hardly, your ass clapping against his thighs echoed through the beach. you feared the water god he talked about might feel the ripples on the sea, cursing you for being so naughty in front of his domain. you screamed out, helplessly scratching at the sand underneath you as some sort of anchor for your sanity, but you lost yourself to the pleasure the moment he wrapped his arms around you and pressed his chest against your back, freely moaning and cursing into your ear.

"princess, you feel so good. fuck, your pussy is creaming on my cock, it's gonna suck me dry this time, I swear." he babbles. rafayel talks a lot normally, but once he loses himself inside you, the words just flow out. "r-ra-af", you choke out between thrusts, "it feels so good, oh my god." your pussy flutters once he hits a certain spot, and he immediately notices - abusing it with no hold-backs. if there's anything he wants, it's for you to go above and beyond the lines of pleasure, so he starts circling your clit with three fingers quickly, drawing circle and infinity shapes just how you like it. with no warning, no build up, you fall apart quickly, screaming his name to the heavens while you feel your soul escaping your body with a mind shattering orgasm. after a few seconds, your body is drained off all strength, and you become a doll in his hands to fuck his cum into.

"(y/n), you should've seen your face right now, never saw something more beautiful. it was so hot, fuck-" he buries his head into your neck while he lazily thrusts into you a few times more, stuffing his cock so deep into your pussy you fear he might target your womb. he doesn't move, keeping his pelvis flush against your back while filling you up -

"fuck, it's yours. I'm yours. take it."

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #136 part 1

Danny felt disgruntled as he slowly came back into consciousness. He was in the middle of the Observants going over some of the new factions that have been growing since he became King. A sudden surge of power flung Danny through a portal and he tried to escape or make sense of what happened but he lost consciousness soon after. 

Coming too Danny was a lot smaller than what he thought he should be. His body had a different feel to it and he could tell he was turned into something that walked on all fours. He lifted his head and took in his surroundings. He was in a field, a field of wheat. He couldn’t even see anything besides the wheat and the sky. The portal that dumped him here was no where to be found either. He was going to have a hard time getting back home, especially in his new form. He could still feel his core but the transformation had done a number on him and he felt exhausted.

Suddenly he heard the wheat snap to his left and he whipped his head around to find a person carefully leaning down a few yards away from him. They seemed to analyze his body movements a little bit before he held out his hand that had a small piece of sausage in it. Danny knew not to take food from strangers but it honestly smelled heavenly and he doubted Sam would ever find out, so he hesitantly walked over and gave it a sniff. After he had taken it from them, they started petting Danny on the head. 

“You're an adorable little puppy aren’t you!” Ah so Danny was apparently a puppy, he probably should try to find a way back home but maybe being a dog for a while wouldn’t be too bad. He hasn’t had a break in a while and the Observants are so damn pushy sometimes. The stranger continued, “I’m going to take you to Damian, he knows a lot about pets. I feel like him and I got off on the wrong foot the other day and I think you’d be the perfect gift.” 

Danny wasn’t sure about being given away as a present but he supposed he had no where else to be and if Damian knew his pets as well as this guy said then Danny would be well cared for.

He was picked up and after a bit of walking they arrived at a farm house. Danny was better able to assess the size of the person holding him and they seemed around 10-12 years old. The kid ran excitedly into the kitchen of the house holding Danny out to an adult that, much like the kid, had black hair and blue eyes. 

“Dad! Look I found a puppy!! Can we bring him tonight to the Watchtower meeting so I can give him to Damian? I think he needs a friend and I want to apologize for how I acted the other day.” The kids dad seemed to give Danny a once over before responding.

“It’s probably fine but let me talk with Bruce first and make sure everything’s OK. We don’t want to force a pet on them even if Damian is good with animals.” He finally responded, he gave the kid a hair tussle and then continued, “Jon, why don’t you give him a bath upstairs while I give him a call, I think I still have some dog shampoo from last time I gave Krypto one.” 

The kid apparently named Jon ran up the stairs with Danny clutched against his chest. Soon he found himself wet in a bathtub, and then he was dried. He was finally able to get a good look at himself in the mirror, he looked like a miniature husky with white fur and dark black patches along his tail, back, and head. His icy blue eyes were piercing and he could see why someone would think he were cute, in fact he was down right adorable. 

After that Jon brought him to a bedroom he assumed belonged to Jon. It was a very basic kid’s bedroom and Danny found himself sprawled on the bed along with Jon. Jon spoke very fondly about Damian and the more he spoke the more Danny got the feeling Jon had a little crush.

Soon Jon’s dad came into the room to tell him that Danny could be given to Damian at the meeting tonight. Danny didn’t know what sort of work Jon's dad did but it sounded like Jon’s and Damian’s dads worked together. He wondered what kind of place the watchtower would be but he didn’t have to wonder for long. 

He also realized how different this world was from his own. Jon and his dad could fly and they wore these skin tight suits, honestly they looked like superheroes which was probably exactly what they were. They flew through the air and eventually they were in front of these tubes Danny honestly didn’t know what they were. Jon and his dad did though, and apparently it was teleportation. Danny was awestruck at the site in front of him, the Watchtower was in space and he could hardly keep in his excitement. 

Master Post:

Next:

[gogobootz1]

The Mentor pt.3

Finnick Odair x Reader

Summary: A morning chat at the train station proves very revealing for you and Finnick.

Warnings: mention of forced prostitution and mild self-harm

part two | part four

The marble steps you sit on are practically ice, and the cold seeps quickly through your pants. The train station is entirely empty, and you sit outside of it looking out at the city.

Knees up to your chest, you take a deep breath. The roses you clutch in your icy fingers seem to taunt you, and once you look at them, you can't pull your eyes away. A beautiful gift belying your tragic fate.

You set all but one down beside you, then start to pick at its petals. Completely transfixed, you don't even hear the sounds of someone approaching until you drop the last petal.

"What'd you land on?"

The words break your focus, and you quickly gaze up to find who interrupted you. Finnick interprets your gaze as a confused one and elaborates, "Loves you/loves you not?"

That's not why you were picking the petals, but if you had been asking the flower, it would've been about him. The thought is embarrassing, so you give a half-hearted shrug and look away.

"Well, I got these for you," he holds out a small, far more rustic bouquet. Violets. "But it seems like someone's beaten me to the punch." What a cruel metaphor. Snow blocking your chances yet again. Standing in between you and a real life with real connections. Soon enough, you won't be real. What'll be left when you run out of choices you can make for yourself?

For now, you put the roses down anyway. The breath from your melancholy laugh is visible in the crisp morning air. "Thanks," you say, holding your hand out to accept the flowers. They remind you of home. A patch of them grew out in the field behind the house you grew up in. Your fingers brush over his as you accept the bouquet.

He jolts, "You're freezing!" Dropping down next to you on the steps, he removes the violets from your grasp and rests them in the small space between you. You follow the purple flowers with your eyes as he swiftly takes your hands in his own, attempting to warm them. "Do you purposefully torture your hands?"

You don't answer, still looking at the flowers he brought you. Finnick sighs, "You take such good care of Darla. Do you even bother looking after yourself?"

"What's the point?" Your heart hurts. As much as he hates it, he doesn't have a reply to that. He often wonders the same.

"How will you hold all the flowers you're collecting if your fingers freeze off?" He tries for lighthearted, but you wince. Instantly, he frowns. While typically, your replies to him are short, bordering on rude, they're always spirited. You seemed upset before he left you at the party last night, but now you seem disheveled. Like you hadn't had a wink of sleep.

Clearly, he's caught you in one of those moments. All the victors have them, but usually in private. He's not keen to leave you, though.

"Who gave you the roses?" He ventures, suddenly getting a sickening feeling. He's not expecting a real response, necessarily, but a 'wouldn't you like to know' would ease his anxiety.

You pick up the heavily perfumed flowers, "Oh, these? A gift, I suspect. I made someone very happy last night, and I'm sure I'll be doing it more often," you say bitterly before you toss them back down. Your voice comes out small, though, like you haven't built your armor thick enough to face this yet.

"From the office of the President?" It's not even a question. He already knows. Your face reveals your surprise. "I got a similar congratulatory present when I made my first deal." While he figured out that Snow had you in a similar position, it's clear you suspected nothing of the sort when it came to him. As you look into his eyes, he hopes you're getting what he's trying to convey. That the two of you are the same. And you can finally, finally, be honest.

"It was more of a negotiation," you nod, holding his eyes. "Not my first deal."

"I figured," he says.

You laugh sourly, "Is it easy to tell that I'm a cheap whore?"

"Don't sell yourself short," he scolds, "you're a very expensive whore." He almost worries it won't go over well when you snort and launch into the freest laugh he's heard in his life. Thank God someone appreciates his humor- Mags hates these jokes. He's got plenty more of them, and will definitely use them on you now that he knows they'll land.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence," you reply, tongue-in-cheek. Finnick can tell by your genuine grin, however, that you appreciated the joke.

"You're welcome," he nods, "You know, I've considered abandoning prostitution in favor of stand-up comedy."

Somehow your grin grows wider, "Really?"

"Really," he confirms, "I just have to perfect my material before I pitch it to the big man." You nod sagely, entertaining his bit. "He might just keel over in laughter," Finnick suggests.

You lean in a bit, "Think he'll keel over dead?"

"Here's hoping!" He leans in, too, sending you a flashy smile. You laugh again and look back out at the city. An amicable silence falls between the two of you, and you enjoy it a bit before breaking it.

"I met with him before the taping to tell him our deal was off. My nana died during Darla's games, so I thought he had nothing to hold over my head anymore. Then, at the party, our escort told me that Snow wanted everyone to get to know her. And when I saw her talking to-" you cut yourself off, but he understands. Some of them are too difficult to even think about. "I marched into his house and told him I'd take on twice the clients if it meant Darla would never see one." Finnick's breath catches in his throat for a second.

"So... a reminder of my renewed imprisonment," you pick the white roses up again and wave them sarcastically.

Finnick snatches them from your hands and launches them far across the steps with a firm throw. They scatter and tumble across the white marble. The action is so unexpected that another laugh bubbles out from you.

"I think you're incredibly brave," he declares, looking you right in the eye. "You might be the only victor worthy of the title."

"No," you're quick to insist. "That's Darla. She's earned her peace."

"You haven't stopped to think that you might've too?"

You shake your head, "But I haven't. I don't think I could ever atone for what I've done- no matter how hard I try." His brows furrow, finding your words worrisome.

Catching his look, you elaborate, "Every visit to Mrs. Montgomery's classroom, the parks I design, the gardens I dedicate, my broadcast segments- they're all born of guilt!" You admit, getting choked up, "It's my way of saying sorry. Sorry for fucking your husband, even though he paid to fuck me, and I wanted to die each time he did it. Sorry for being a plague upon the Earth, here's something to make it better. Sorry for-" You only notice you'd been aggressively scratching the back of your hand when Finnick grabs your wrist. It cuts off your rambling and prevents you from hurting yourself anymore.

"Why don't you talk to someone instead of torturing yourself?" He sounds pained.

“Who would I talk to?” You shrug, swiping at a stray tear. 

“That was… supposed to be an offer,” he winces.

“Oh?" you blink at him. 

“I’m really just a call away,” he nods, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. 

“Right,” you say, still sounding a little unsure. You blink a few times, averting your gaze and thinking it over. 

“I know you think I’m gorgeous, but I’m sure it’ll be less of an obstacle for you over the phone,” he jokes. 

You turn toward him slowly, eyes wide, “she didn’t.” 

“She did,” he smirks at you. 

You hit him firmly in the gut, and he lets out a heavy breath as he curls inward. He’s glad you’re feeling up to your usual abrasiveness. 

You’ve already moved from your spot and are heading toward the station. He stumbles up after you. 

You stop suddenly. Not that you were really going anywhere. The train for Ten won’t leave without Darla and Darla is chronically late. He nearly runs right into your back, and you see him struggle to regain his balance as you whip around. 

He’s much closer than you thought, and you have to take a small step back. “What’s your number?” 

“What?” He asks, reeling from the near-collision. 

“How am I supposed to call if I don’t have your number?” You ask, and his eyebrows raise at the question. You totally skipped the ‘yes, thank you, what a great idea,’ part he’d been hoping for. But, he’ll take what he can get. He rattles off the number in an instant. 

“Are you going to remember that?” He asks. 

You nod noncommittally, “We’ll see.” The exasperated look on his face pulls another grin from you. He doesn't fight the smile off his face when he sees yours. 

A car door slam breaks your extended eye contact. The other District Ten mentor breezes right past you and Finnick, clearly annoyed at being up so early. You know him well enough to know he’s going right back to bed on this train. 

Darla, however, looks like hell-warmed over. “What the fuck happened to you?”

“Shhhhh,” she holds a finger to her lips, the other clutching her head. Your expression drops as you take in her appearance.

“Are you hungover?!” You try to steal her dark sunglasses, but she’s too quick. 

“Whatever, Mom,” she grumbles, “hurry up and kiss your boyfriend goodbye so we can leave.” She trudges further into the station, where a train is inevitably waiting for you. Your eyes go wide in embarrassment. 

“Darla!” You yell, and she winces at the noise. 

Finnick chuckles, “What happened to moderation?�� She throws him the finger, earning further laughter. 

You shake your head at her behavior, and when you turn back to Finnick you find he’s already looking at you. “What?” 

“Nothing,” he shrugs, acting innocent. “Oh wait,” he snaps and doubles back to grab the flowers he arrived with. “You almost forgot these.”  

You shake your head at him, smiling, “Can’t have that can we?” 

“Safe travels,” he nods at you, turning to go. He makes it a few paces before you call out after him. 

“Finnick,” he quickly turns at the sound of his name. When you recite his number back a surprised grin lights up his features. “The uh- the phone works both ways, you know. I’m not a bad listener.” 

“Noted,” he nods, smiling. You smile back at him, a genuine one, and it makes you look younger. A loud call of your name from a train within the station makes the both of you laugh. 

“Bye, Finnick,” you smile at him, giving a cute little wave. He returns it readily.

And he thought he was in trouble before. 

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

@emerald-09

I also didn't really edit this one, but I think I like how it turned out? I'm not sure if I'll write more for this mini-universe since I have a few other Finnick ideas but we'll see

[valalice]

✦ patching up mizu.

cw. fluff. hurt & comfort kinda. fem!reader. mizu is hurt. mentions of blood & needles. both reader and mizu are whipped. a/n. for @champagne-problems-ate <3 thank you for the convincing text for me to restart the series, mwah!

mizu's hand grips at you knee as you stitch up her shoulder. this is only the second wound your stitching out of the four you have to complete.

it was a silently calm night. you were fixing your night tea, ready to go into bed and wind down, excited to see what happens next in you book. but just as you were shuffling to bed, mizu burst through the door after being gone for some odd amount of days. you abruptly stand still, your night dress ruffling at your ankles, tea cup in hand, taking in her beaten and bloody figure. shaking off your shocked expression, you set down your tea on a nearby surface and usher her with you arms. your gentle touch on her arms guiding her to sit down.

since that moment there hasn't been a single exchange of words between the two of you, there wasn't a need for any. the samurai came to you needing aid and you knew that.

however, uncharacteristically, mizu is the first to speak. "sorry."

the hand with the needle in it stills, peering up at her through your lashes, she's looking off into the fire pit. "for?"

"your tea has gone cold." you lift your head to look over at the small stand where your tea cup rest, and she is correct. the steam that was airing off of the hot liquid ceases to exist anymore, your tea is now room temperature. a small chuckle escapes your lips, shaking your head before you put your attention back on her wound, threading the needle through her skin. mizu's hand grips tight onto your knee.

"what are you laughing at? you hate when your tea isn't hot." she scowls.

you're amused by her. one simple off handed comment you made one time, and she just runs with it. "and the tea will get drunken, nonetheless."

mizu's head turns to observe you at your comment, you can feel her icy eyes on you, but you focus on finishing this stitch. "all done." you perk up.

her eyes are still strained on on you as you turn to reach for your scissors to cut the thread. setting them down, you reach for the soft sponge in the clean bowl of water, contrasting the one next to it dyed red from her blood. sponging off the area and patting it dry with a clean towel as well. she's time and time again taken aback at how gentle you are with her when you care for it. that amount of gentleness was unknown to her until she met you. and in this moment she can only concentrate on the soft hand on her arm as to both steady or comfort her as you smear some ointment on the wound, the first time you patched her you mouth off her ear about you grandmother and how she thought you everything you need to know about bringing people back to health. when you're done the hand on mizu's arm lightly squeezes it, and she already knows, so she raises it. again, there is no need for words. taking hold of the bandages you begin to wrap them around her shoulder the best you can, the shoulder is always such an awkward place. when you're satisfied with the amount of bandage protecting the wound you rip it off from the rest and neatly tuck it as so it wouldn't come undone.

lifting your head up to tell mizu that she must readjust a little so you could fix up her next wound, your met with her face in yours. it seems as if she's trying to examine you, her blue eyes, oh, her eyes. it was a secret you'd never admit out loud, yet to her, that you found her eyes so enchanting, but you could never say something so taboo as that.

once again mizu speaks first. "why are you so gentle with me?"

your breath catches in your throat, furrowing your eyebrows. "i think you've lost too much blood, mizu. let's finish patching you up."