#divided loyalties gets me every time

[therighthandofvengeance]

“It [ballet] is a perfect medium for the expression of spiritual love.” - Ayn Rand

[avengedbiologist]

It's divided loyalties time !

[yuujispinkhair]

CAUGHT

You don't know when things changed or why, but at some point, you started to run not because you wanted to escape but because you wanted Sukuna to catch you.

King of Curses!Sukuna x Reader (female). 3k words. 18+, smut, dubcon/noncon in the beginning because Reader was given to Sukuna as a gift against her will. Later it turns into primal play, which both enjoy. Getting chased and caught by Sukuna, rough sex, light choking, Sukuna bites Reader, creampie, squirting, breeding. Sukuna is portrayed in human form (only two arms etc). Minors don't interact. Dividers by me.

This story is inspired by this beautiful fanart by my lovely friend @sweetlandspos. Thank you for blessing me with this sexy picture!

Your breath comes out in soft puffs as you run light-footedly through the forest, only wrapped in a thin, almost see-through white silk robe. The skin on your arms is raised in goosebumps, but not because you are cold. It's the thrill of the chase, anticipating the big, terrifying King to catch you and take you. The thrill of not knowing when exactly he hunts you down and overpowers you. Your lips open in an excited chuckle. Your nipples are stiff and rub against the delicate fabric of your robe. Desire is pulsing hotly between your legs.

You have lost count of how many times you have already run from Sukuna, only to get captured again and brought back to his shrine.

In the beginning, you ran because you were truly trying to escape from this powerful, scary man you had been given to as a gift. Ryomen Sukuna, The King of Curses. The most powerful sorcerer to ever live. Everyone groveled in fear when Sukuna visited a town. He could easily kill anyone and ground the whole place to dust with just a flick of his hand. So, people tried to please him by offering their loyalty, making sacrifices in his name, and bringing him gifts.

And you were one of those gifts.

The only daughter of your town's most prosperous merchant. Your father has always been someone who knows how to negotiate, and he took his chance when he saw Sukuna marching toward your town. He had you dressed up in your most beautiful clothes, your skin adorned with gold and jewels, and then you were led toward the man known as The King of Curses.

Sukuna was pleased with the gift. He placed a large, strong hand on your upper arm and pulled you to his side as a broad smirk spread over his striking features with the black markings. He took you with him and told you he would make you his little bride one day if you behaved well enough. Until then, you would be his favorite pastime.

Your town still stands. No blood was shed. The only sacrifice that was made was you.

Maybe it was selfish, but you were scared of this powerful, cruel man and angry that your father had just offered you to Sukuna as if you were a thing, forcing you to give yourself to Sukuna almost every night so he could find relief in your body after a busy day.

And so you did the selfish thing and tried to escape. You sneaked out at dusk because it was the easiest time to slip away, and there was still enough light so you could find your way through the forest surrounding Sukuna's shrine.

The first time you ran, you came as far as the first line of trees, already thinking you made it. But then you heard the heavy footsteps behind you.

He didn't run. He just walked casually as if he was in no hurry at all. Just a leisurely stroll through the forest. It somehow made things even more terrifying. Only hearing the slow but heavy footsteps of this huge and dangerous man. Hearing the twigs snap beneath his feet. And his low, velvety voice calling out to you, taunting you, making fun of you for thinking you could run from him.

"Are you a little bunny? How amusing that you think you can outrun me. Come on, little bunny, give me your best!"

Sukuna laughed. And you ran as fast as your feet could carry you, your panicky breaths loud in your ear, your heart pounding so fast that you felt delirious. Fear was making the hair on your neck stand up, adrenaline rushing in your veins, making you run faster than you ever had before in your life.

But, of course, it wasn't fast enough. Sukuna let you run yourself to exhaustion that night, always casually strolling behind you as he basked in your fear. An experienced hunter, confident and dangerous.

When he finally had enough of the little cruel game, he snapped his fingers, and you only managed to let out a terrified squeal as you felt his magic wrap around you, paralyzing you. He made time stand still just with a snap of his fingers! His power terrified you, made you weep tearlessly as you stood there frozen in midstep, trapped helplessly as the King of Curses slowly walked up to you.

Sukuna's voice was dripping with amusement and sadistic joy when he stopped behind you,

"Oh, little one, I didn't take you for a playful one. But I am not complaining. This was a nice little distraction. But it's enough now. We're returning to the shrine, and I will show you your place."

He snapped his fingers again, and you stumbled forward, gasping as you caught your balance and instinctively started running again. You only got a few steps away before a pair of muscular arms wrapped around you and lifted you from the ground, even as you screamed and struggled. It was a futile attempt, of course. The King had caught you. You stood no chance.

Sukuna wasn't gentle when he threw you over one of his broad shoulders and carried you back to the shrine. And he also wasn't gentle when he pressed you down on his bed later that night and took you with even more force than usual.

One of his large hands captured both of your wrists and pinned them above your head while his heavy, muscular body pressed you down, knocking the air out of you with every hard thrust. You screamed when Sukuna sank his teeth into your flesh, deep enough to leave his mark on you forever. He healed the wound afterward, but only so much that it would still leave a scar, marking you as his for the rest of your life. A reminder of your failed attempt at running from him.

Maybe for anyone else, it would have been enough reason to give up and be obedient. But not for you. Only three nights later, you sneaked out again, trying your luck again.

And again and again after that. And Sukuna always captured you again.

You don't know when things changed or why, but at some point, you started to run not because you wanted to escape but because you wanted Sukuna to catch you. You wanted him to drag you back to his shrine and fuck you hard into his bed, showing you where you belonged.

"See, that's your place. Under me, stuffed to the hilt with my cock and my seed. You are mine. You are going nowhere. You cannot run from me, little one."

But you took his punishment all too willingly. And all his words did was make you throb around him needily, reaching your high even before him.

Was this still considered punishment when the one getting punished enjoyed it? When you squealed delightedly into the silk pillow that Sukuna pressed your face into as he took you from behind? When you creamed all over him when his hand tangled painfully in your hair and he fucked you savagely, with hard, brutal thrusts, while his sweat and spit dripped onto your naked skin?

He said you could never run from him, and yet you tried it all the time. It became a game. A game of catch. Sukuna was the hunter, and you were the very willing prey.

Your heart still raced wildly anytime you got chased by Sukuna. All your senses were heightened. Your veins sang with adrenaline as you ran through the forest, but your skin was also tingling with excitement, and your thighs were slick from the warm wetness between them, gathering there in anticipation of Sukuna claiming you again.

But you weren't the only one who enjoyed it. As tired as Sukuna sometimes looked after a day of meeting with people who wanted something from him, he was always fully alert and enthusiastic when it came to chasing you through the forest.

His steps were light, his laughter ecstatic, and his beautiful face alight with excitement. Just like his body was brimming with desire. You could feel his hardness pressing against you anytime he captured you, just as aroused as you were. The chase awakened something feral in both of you.

Sometimes, he didn't even wait until he carried you home but just took you right there on the forest floor, grunting in your ear as he mounted you like a wild animal, making you cry out and scream your lust into the night.

And now you are running through the forest in your thin silk robe, a delicious mixture of fear and arousal making your blood sing. Sukuna is taking his time today, and it makes the excitement even stronger.

As always, when you run from Sukuna, your senses are sharpened. Your muscles are taut, your body alert with the thrill of the hunt. He could be on you at any moment.

You wonder what he will do tonight. Use his magic or his strength? Will he tackle you to the ground and ram his cock into your heat, unwilling to wait? Or will he carry you back to the shrine, taking his sweet time to feel you kick and squirm in his strong arms, playfully fighting him, making both of you even more riled up, until it ends in a frenzied fuck in Sukuna's bed?

You strain your ears, trying to catch the sound of Sukuna's heavy footsteps. But there is nothing.

You frown. Where is he? Did he not notice you leaving? You haven't been exactly silent. You never are nowadays. But even when you really tried to escape and sneaked out without making any noise, he still got wind of it and tracked you down.

So why isn't he behind you?

You have almost reached the other end of the forest, and you slow down to a walking pace, looking over your shoulder expectantly. Hopefully. Longingly.

But there is no sign of Sukuna.

Does he maybe want to drag it out? Wait until you are about to set foot out of the forest, just so he can jump you and drag you back? You have reached the edge of the forest and come to a complete halt.

Your throat feels tight, and your heart is beating way too rapidly. But it's not the thrill of the chase that fills you with fear.

He isn't coming.

You hover uncertainly at the edge of the forest, not knowing what to do. You could keep running. You could make it to the river, steal one of the fisherboats, and disappear forever. Just like you originally planned when you first tried to run from Sukuna. You could do it now. You could be free.

But the problem is you don't want to be.

You let out a shaky breath and turn around. This time, you don't run from Sukuna but towards him. Towards his shrine. Towards his home. Your home.

At least, you hope it still is. Or did he get tired of your constant running? Of your stupid games? Is that why he didn't come to catch you tonight? Did he decide he doesn't want a woman like you who always causes trouble? Did he decide he doesn't want you to be his little bride anymore?

A desperate sob escapes your lips. Your feet move even faster now over the soft forest floor, your heart palpitating with fear because you are scared you are too late and Sukuna won't let you come back to him.

It's later than usual, the night is already falling, wrapping the forest into darkness. But you have walked this path so often that you can easily find your way through the tall trees.

Apart from the sound of your harsh breaths and footsteps, the forest is eerily silent. It's strange, you think. One would assume that you would encounter many forest animals at this time, but you can't see or hear any. It's almost as if they are hiding because they sense a much more dangerous predator nearby.

And then, completely out of the blue, a strong arm wraps around your neck, stopping your run abruptly.

Your piercing scream echoes through the forest. Your heart jumps up to your throat, hammering wildly, stars dancing before your eyes from the sudden shock of getting grabbed like that so unexpectedly. Your hands come up instinctively, trying to pry the large hand off your skin, fingernails digging sharply into it, but to no avail.

A familiar low voice announces smugly,

"Caught you, little one."

"S... Sukuna! I didn't hear you coming!"

Sukuna's hand tightens around your throat, squeezing it lightly, making even more adrenaline flood your already overly sensitive body. But it mixes with relief. He came to catch you! He didn't get tired of you!

He laughs softly, a sound almost like a purr, making the hairs on your arms stand up.

"Hmm, I was just watching tonight. And I saw the most curious thing. A little bunny that wasn't running from me but towards me."

Sukuna's low voice sounds amused. You feel his tall, broad body press against your back. Feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of your robe. He is naked from the waist up, you realize.

Your heart is pounding wildly in your chest, and your vision is blurry. Arousal pulses between your legs, wet and hot, filling you with an all-consuming, primal need for the man behind you. The man who was stalking you through this dark forest. Watching you. Hunting you like prey. The man who knows exactly what you did.

You feel shy suddenly. Caught, but not just in the physical sense. Sukuna knows. He knows that you weren't trying to escape from him. He knows that you so desperately want to be his. He heard you sob when you thought he didn't come for you. He saw you stumble back towards the shrine. Back to him.

It makes you feel exposed. Makes you nervous and light-headed. Your voice comes out hoarsely when Sukuna loosens the tight grip around your neck enough to allow you to speak,

"I must have lost orientation."

You can't see it, but you can hear the smirk in Sukuna's velvety voice,

"You think you are so sly, huh, little one? Do you really think I don't know what you are doing?"

His low voice drops to a seductive whisper when he adds,

"This little bunny wants to get caught."

A large, strong hand twists in the front of your robe, and then he tears it off you in one fluid motion. You gasp when the cold air brushes over your naked skin. But Sukuna's large hand immediately comes up again to grope your breasts, cupping them greedily, squeezing them, his long pointy nails scratching over your hardened peaks teasingly, making you whimper with lust.

The night air is chilly, but Sukuna's tall, broad body is warm, and the kisses he trails from your neck to your shoulder are searing hot, just like the desire coursing through your body.

You moan needily, pressing your naked body against the massive man behind you, feeling his warm skin on yours and the huge, hot hardness between his legs pressing against you, pulsing with arousal.

Your legs are shaking when one of Sukuna's large hands trails down your naked body and pushes between your thighs, cupping your cunt for a moment, just holding you, one hand around your throat, the other on your most intimate body part. Truly caught.

He laughs softly when his long fingers dip into your warm cunt, feeling your creamy wetness, evidence of how much his little bunny loves to get chased by him.

Relief and exhilaration flood your senses. Sukuna caught you! He didn't give up on you! He still wants to keep you!

As if reading your mind, Sukuna leans down, his lips brushing over your hair,

"You were so scared I wouldn't come, huh?"

The words are smug, but his voice is full of something else. Something warm, like affection.

He pulls his hand away from your dripping cunt, letting the night air kiss your swollen clit while Sukuna pushes his trousers down. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your breath coming out in short, weak huffs, and a soft whimper falls from your lips.

And then Sukuna snaps his hips, and a loud gasp escapes your mouth when he pushes the swollen head of his heavy cock into you, stretching your tight cunt open around his manhood. With another roll of his strong hips, he claims you completely, burying himself fully in your tight heat.

He lets out a low groan, his strong arms tightening around your much smaller body, pulling you against him, holding you in place as he ruts into you, taking you while standing up, just like he caught you.

Sukuna's low moans grow louder, just like the filthy wet noises of him claiming his prey, mounting you from behind right here where he caught you, filling the otherwise silent forest with the animalistic, primal sounds of fucking.

You push against Sukuna eagerly, moaning when he snaps his hips even faster, fucking you hard and deep. Giving in to his desires after holding back for so long while he stalked you through this forest.

You reach behind you, needing to touch him, whimpering when you get a hold of Sukuna's taut backside, digging your fingernails into the firm muscles, leaving crescent-shaped marks on his skin. Your eyes fall shut, and you lean against him, taking his cock eagerly, mewling and sobbing as the pleasure builds deep inside you.

You feel Sukuna tense up behind you. He growls as his hips buck and he fills you with his hot seed, thick spurt after spurt. And your lustful cries echo through the forest as you reach your high, too, clenching around Sukuna's length, milking him greedily. Your arousal sprays everywhere, over Sukuna's cock and onto the forest floor beneath you, while you cry out his name over and over again like a prayer.

Sukuna doesn't let go of you, even after you both found completion. He is still behind you, naked, buff body pressed against yours, his thick cock still deep inside you, breeding you, showing you that you are still his little bride, pulsing the last drops of his orgasm into you while the first rivulets of his warm seed already run down your thighs.

You lean back against him, pulse fluttering, feeling ecstatic after the hunt and after coming undone with your King in the middle of the dark forest.

You can feel Sukuna's broad, muscular chest rising and falling with every breath. His hand around your neck has loosened its tight grip, and the long fingers with the sharp nails lightly caress your skin. His other hand comes up to cup your forehead, his fingers tugging on your hair, pulling your head back against him.

You are so entirely at his mercy, caught in his strong arms, stuffed with his thick cock. But you feel no fear. You know you are safe in your captor's arms.

Sukuna leans down, humming softly before he presses a possessive yet tender kiss into your hair.

"I will always come to catch you and bring you back home, my little bride, no matter how often you run."

And instead of feeling scared by his promise, a pleased smile lifts your lips.

HE MAKES ME FERAL!! 😭😭

I would be very willing to be Sukuna's little bride and his beloved prey, which he chases through the woods ;)

Thank you so much for this sexy pic, Émilie!! I saw it, and my mind went crazy 💗 I will think about this forever! I hope I could make you smile with this little story!!

And thank you so much to everyone, who read this story!! I hope you enjoyed getting chased by Sukuna ;)

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

[taintandviolent]

Lime Green Jell-O; Peter Maximoff x Reader

summary: Reader is in a situationship with Peter Maximoff. It's been casual on both ends, or so you thought. You think he's jealous and you decide to tease a little hard. Peter can't take the heat, though.

word count: 2K!

w a r n i n g s: shameless smut, smut with a little plot, unprotected sex, fingering, mentions of jealousy, possible jealousy kink.

a/n: anonymous request! you guys keep asking me to write Peter, and I'm nervous every single time, istg. I hope it delivered, and you enjoyed reading it! ps: dividers are by firefly-graphics!

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don't have a taglist, but please turn on post notifications if you want to be notified of future fics!

Peter sat bolt upright, as if you’d just announced the most horrible thing in the world. Which to him, you had. 

"So, you've been seeing other guys?" Peter asked painfully casually, working overtime to control the pitch of his voice. Any hint of his true feelings and he'd be done for. 

You scoffed, feigning offense. "Of course I have." You gulped down the last bit of soda, and crawled over on the bed to throw it in the bin. Most of your free days were spent in his room, fooling around, playing video games with him, and watching whatever cheesy movie he’d put on. He seemed to think you had extra free-time that you’d spent with other guys.

Though it was only a nano-second, Peter's brows furrowed, and his lips frowned. You narrowed your eyes, and he immediately shifted in his jacket, returning to his previous state. No way she saw that. No way -- it was too fast. He darted to the bed, standing in front of you. 

Getting to your knees, you squared up. Inhaled and closed your mouth, crossing your arms firmly across your chest, underneath your breasts. Your shirt was low-cut enough that he saw the shift in your cleavage. He clenched his jaw, averting his dark eyes elsewhere. This wasn’t the time to start getting a stiffie. 

"Peter," you started, a reprimanding tone in your voice. If he was going to pull the loyalty card now… you smirked. "The first time we hooked up you said, and..." You brought your fingers up to make quotes in the air, in front of his face. "I quote: 'Nothin' serious, babe'. So....." 

Damn. Peter pushed his lips forward, nodding. "Right, yeah, I did say that. And I so totally meant it." 

"Good, so… you shouldn't care if things are getting pretty serious with one of them. Like... really serious. Serious enough that we might have to stop hanging out as much." Bam. Mic drop. 

That was a lie; a blatant one. Little did he know, you had been dating casually, but doing so completely uninterested. No one had matched your silver speedster; not in sex, not in personality, not in anything. He had zipped his way into your heart and wasn’t leaving. You weren’t about to let him know that though, and decided to dig a little deeper with the teasing. He was cute when he was jealous… which he was. You knew it. 

Instead of confessing everything right then and there, Peter stiffened and mirrored your position; arms crossed over his muscled chest. He shook his head and shrugged. Cool as cucumber. No way were you winning this one. 

You smirked again, this time, raising a single brow. "Are you... jealous, Maximoff?" 

"Pffffbfbbtbt." Peter blew air through his lips, slicing his hand through the air like he was swatting a fly away. "Totally not jealous." 

"Good, because if you were, you'd hate to hear that Tommy and I went on the most adorable date the other night, and he was --" 

His hands flew up, waving slightly. "Woah, don't need to hear the deetz, babe. No thanks." 

"Oh no? I think you are jealous... I absolutely think you are, because..." 

Peter's fingers shushed you, smushing into the fullness of your pout. He didn't want to hear the (probably one-hundred percent correct) explanation that followed the 'because'. Your eyebrows flew up on your forehead, expectantly. You tried to speak through his finger, but he pressed harder. Peter screwed up his expression before rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. He huffed a breath, and looked back at you.

You yanked your face away, narrowing your eyes into knowing slits. You barked out a laugh, unable to control it. He had always been a terrible liar, but this took the cake. “Oh, you totally are. You are lime-green Jell-o, Peter.”

“I am not.” 

“Are too.” You jabbed your index finger into his pec. “You so are.” 

He huffed and dropped his arms. You weren’t budging, and if he kept up, you’d win. He knew it, you knew it. It was a good old-fashioned standoff. You cocked your hip out to the side. 

"Okay, so maybe I am jealous. Fine. Sure. Whatever. Now, c'mere."

Exhaling heavy over his bottom lip, Peter took hold of your face and pulled you into a warm kiss. The tips of his fingers stroked your hairline, urging you closer to him - as close as he could get you without melting into you. Surprised, your eyes widened into the kiss, but after a few seconds, you couldn’t help but melt into him. 

"Peter, Peter," you murmured into his lips, pushing away slightly to look over his face with a weighted gaze. "You're really jealous?" 

Saying nothing, he nodded heavily and went back to kissing you, his tongue slipping along your bottom lip before breaching. You whimpered into his lips, the vibration tickling slightly. Peter pressed his chin into yours, gently forcing you to scoot backwards on the bed. The kiss deepened for a moment before Peter broke it, his dark orbs scanning your face. 

“Yeah,” he whispered over your lips before urging your back against the mattress. “I am super jell-o…” He mocked. 

“Want you for myself. All for myself. Okay? Just… lemme’...” 

Peter nuzzled your neck, soft lips ghosting the skin and peppering kisses from your ear lobe down to your collarbone. Just above there, he began suckling the skin, pulling it into his mouth. He sucked harder and harder until you finally yelped, jerking your head away slightly. The skin left his mouth with a wet pop. 

"Ow! Peter, what are you doing?" 

"Markin' my territory.... err.... something." He pulled back to look at his handiwork. The skin where he'd been sucking was scarlet, heading to purple, and by that evening, it would be a wicked bruise.  A little gift for whoever you saw next, if it wasn't him.

He grinned as you rubbed at the skin, feeling the tenderness of it. “Did you just give me a hickey?” 

“Maaaybe.” 

“You dork,” you murmured. Peter crushed his lips against yours again, inhaling your scent. His hands trailed up your waist, gripping it hungrily. This is exactly what you’d thought about earlier; every time he touched you, it felt electric, and nobody had even come close to that sensation. You bucked your hips up into his, grinding against the tent in his sweatpants. Peter pressed back against you, hissing through his teeth at the sudden welcome friction. Beneath the fabric, you felt the heat and pressure of his hardening cock and whined. 

“What the heck d’ya want, babe? What am I doin’ wrong here? You want a romantic? You want a casanova?” 

“No,” you started, raking your nail along his t-shirt, the fabric catching underneath your nail and exposing his luscious neck just a little bit. “I  just want you, Peter. Only you. No other guys matter, and I only… I only said that because you said it was casual, I didn’t want to seem desperate.”

“I dunno, I think I’m actin’ pretty desperate right now.” He rutted his hips against you, his cock bumping into your cloth-covered cunt again. You bit your lip, rolling your eyes back. Every whimper, moan and mewl you made coursed through his veins, straight to his dick. They made it ache, and burn, and he couldn’t help but roll his hips against yours, dry-humping you urgently. 

“Fuck me, Peter.” 

Just what he wanted to hear. He nodded in response and brought his fingers to the waistband of your pajama pants, slipping inside. He drug his middle finger up along your folds, smearing your precum over the warm flesh. You were already so wet, Peter grit his teeth, slipping a single digit inside. You vocalized at the sensation, and he slipped another finger in, pumping them in and out slowly. You loved when he did that; just felt you, played with you like a little sex toy. 

His nimble fingers slipped out, and began toying with your cunt, making tiny, quick circles on your swollen clit. The muscles of your thighs quivered hard and deep with every pass of the pad of his finger. He always knew how to make you writhe around, practically shivering with pleasure. You felt the wetness pooling underneath your ass and whimpered, shyly. You always got so wet around him, almost to the point of embarrassment. Peter never made fun, though; if anything, he was always delighted by it, and loved to feel it soaking through the fabric of your cute, little patterned panties. 

As he flicked at your sensitive spots, your lids drooped shut, thinking about how good he was going to feel. It pressed against your hip, hard and demanding, like it was searching for somewhere to go. You couldn’t wait anymore. 

“Gimmie that cock,” you whispered against his ear before nipping at his lobe. Higher than he wanted to, he whined and withdrew his fingers, planting them on your hip bone. 

“Mm’yeah…. gonna’ give it to you,” he nodded, breathless. “‘Cause you want it bad, right?” 

“Yeah, I do. The only one I want.”

Wasting no time, Peter freed his throbbing dick from his sweatpants. It bounced heavily in front of you, the searing hot tip pressing against your tummy. Biting your lip, you took it in your hand, giving it a few generous pumps. You then pushed his cock between your legs, lining it up with your slit and forcing the tip in for him. The action sent a shockwave through his body; he jerked up and groaned. “Fuuuuck…” 

Peter threw your legs over his shoulders, angling your body up. 

“C’mon, give it to me…” 

He clenched his teeth and bottomed out, slamming the lower half of his toned body into yours. It filled you, stretching your walls and pressing against them in the most erotic, tantalizing way. He found a rhythm quickly, and made sure to keep it, his balls slapping against your ass as he thrust into you. You threw your head back and let out a breathy moan, pressing your head into the pillow. You swallowed, wetting your throat and looked back up at him. 

Above you, Peter was extra-whiny today. Sweat collected on his forehead, beading up before ribboning down his temples. His silver hair stuck together in clumps, and when he looked from your pussy to your eyes, he smiled weakly. He was fucking you hard, harder than he usually did and you could only assume it was because he was taking out his aggression, his jealousy.

“Oooh, yeah, just like that, baby… Just like that. You’re so… you’re so jealous.” Your words were punctured by lewd moans and breaths, but you finally got out the teasing statement. Then, Peter did something he didn’t usually do. He gripped your shoulders and pulled you onto his cock over and over again, relentlessly, bucking his hips up to meet yours with every thrust. The tip of his cock hammered your cervix, hitting your deepest parts. Your jaw dropped, brows peaking together as he fucked you. 

“....oh….oh my fuckin’....” 

“....shit-shit-shit, Peter…” 

Your pussy clenched around his cock, and you couldn’t control it. She fluttered, coating his dick in warmth. Peter groaned, closer than ever. 

“You should… you should be –” You moaned, digging your nails into his shoulders. “...be jealous more often.” 

That did it. Peter lost it, spurting his white heat  inside of you, pumping it deep. A melody of groans between the both of you filled the room, as the thrusts slowed and the sweat dripped. He collapsed on top of you, kissing every inch of bare skin that he could find. 

After a few moments, he snapped up, hands on either side of your head. He looked down at you with a quirked brow, and a mischievous smile. You grinned back at him, lust-blown and giddy. You loved these afternoons, where you just fucked each other like teenagers. 

“Wanna’ play some video games? Or did you have another lame-o date planned?” 

You sniggered. “The only lame-o I’m dating is you.”

[rafecameronssl4t]

Loyalties || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: You meant it when you told Rafe you'd do anything to help him get the gun back from the pogues, anything. Even if it meant Rafe questioning your loyalties to him.

Warnings: mention of cheating, swearing, angst, mention of gun

Word count: 1,286

A/n: nfl!rafe x dcc!reader coming next 👀

MASTERLIST

divider by @h-aewo

“Rafe!” you call out, exasperation evident in your voice as he slams your car door shut with a resounding thud. A loud sigh escapes your lips, the sound a mix of frustration and concern. “Just talk to me!”

Determined, you hurry to catch up with your boyfriend, trailing him as he walks up the stairs to his room. Each step feels heavier with the weight of your confusion and worry. As you finally reach his room, Rafe is already inside, the door closing firmly behind you.

He stands there with his hands tangled in his hair, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggles to catch his breath. You remain by the door, watching him with a mix of confusion and concern,

“I don’t understand, I did what you told me to do, Rafe!” you exclaim, your eyes tracking his restless pacing around the room. “I got the gun!” You sit on the edge of his bed, your eyebrows knitted together in confusion and worry. “Talk to me, please,” you plead, your voice trembling slightly as he continues to face away from you.

After a few tense seconds, Rafe exhales deeply, the sound heavy with frustration and pent-up emotion. Slowly, he turns to face you, his expression stern and unreadable. “I didn’t ask you to fucking sleep with him, did I?” he spits out, his voice laced with anger. You open your mouth to respond, but words fail you. “How did you know—” you begin, but Rafe cuts you off abruptly.

“—with the way JJ runs his fuckin’ mouth, it wasn’t that hard,” he snaps, his eyes flashing with betrayal. “I told you to get the gun—” Rafe begins but you interrupt,“—which I did—” but Rafe’s anger only intensifies.

“I didn’t tell you to have sex with that freakin’ pogue!” he fumes, his voice rising in frustration. “You told me to do whatever it took to get the gun—” you retort, trying to make him understand. Rafe scoffs, disbelief etched on his face. “So you’re telling me he didn’t want to drink? Or-or get high?”

“Yes! I know it’s hard to believe because it’s JJ, but no matter how much I offered, he insisted on staying sober,” you argue back, your voice firm but strained. Rafe rolls his eyes at you, "I can't with you, that's fucked up y/n!"

You stay quiet for a moment, fully grasping the depth of his hurt. "Baby, you know it meant nothing," you say softly, your voice tinged with desperation as you sit beside him on the bed. "My loyalties are with you, always."

You reach out, gently pushing back a stray piece of hair that has fallen onto his forehead, hoping to convey your sincerity. "Haven't I made it obvious by now?" you add, your eyes searching his for any sign of understanding. Rafe's expression softens slightly as he sighs deeply.

He knew he couldn't stay mad at you for too long. Over time, you had shown your loyalty to him in countless ways, standing by him through thick and thin. His anger begins to dissipate as he recalls the moments where you had proven your devotion.

~

“Stay in the car,” you say firmly, unbuckling your seatbelt and glancing at Rafe. He sighs, muttering a reluctant “yeah” as you step out of his truck. The heavy door thuds shut behind you, and you take a moment to steady your breath before facing JJ.

“Look who came runnin’ back to me,” JJ smirks, arms open wide in an exaggerated welcome as he strides towards you with a swagger in his step. His playful demeanor does nothing to ease your tension; instead, it ignites a flicker of irritation.

You scoff at his theatrics, crossing your arms defensively. “You’re an actual kid, y’know that right?” you snap, your frustration evident in every word. The sharpness of your tone is meant to cut through his bravado, to make him understand the seriousness of the situation.

JJ’s smirk only widens, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and challenge. “Always so serious,” he retorts, but there’s an edge to his voice now. He steps closer, his gaze locking onto yours, the air thick with unspoken tension

Behind you, you can hear the faint creak of Rafe lowering the window just enough to listen in on the conversation. His presence, even if not visible, is a silent reminder of the precarious balance you’re trying to maintain.

JJ’s smile falters slightly as his eyes flick behind you, trying to peer through the tinted windows of Rafe’s car. “Who’s in the car?” he questions, squinting in a futile attempt to see inside.

It takes all of Rafe’s self-control not to leap out and confront JJ. His knuckles turn white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. “Use your brain, buddy. Who do you think?” you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you cross your arms tighter against your chest.

JJ’s eyes narrow as he meets your gaze again. “Look, what are you even doing here? I don’t really wanna see you right now,” he says, annoyance clear in his tone. The casual dismissal stings, but you keep your composure, pursing your lips to suppress a retort.

“Do you think I wanna be here right now?” you counter, your voice rising slightly with each word. The frustration and anger you’ve been bottling up are starting to seep through. JJ shrugs nonchalantly, the movement a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside you.

“I don’t know, Princess. You tell me,” he sneers, and you feel your temper flare even higher. “Do not call me that,” you say through gritted teeth, stepping closer to him. “Why the fuck would you tell him, JJ?” you demand sternly, your eyes boring into his.

JJ shrugs again, a hint of defiance in his stance. “Did you not think your boyfriend deserved to know?” he throws you a pointed look, and you feel your hands ball into fists at your sides. “That was something I was going to tell him myself, not you,” you exasperate, glaring at him. JJ rolls his eyes, dismissive, as if your words mean nothing.

The tension between you is palpable, a heavy silence hanging in the air. Just as you turn to walk away, JJ speaks up again. “Did you find what you were looking for?” he calls out, his expression unreadable, referring to the gun you took from him. “What?” you turn back to face him, confusion and anger mixing in your gaze.

JJ rolls his tongue against his cheek, looking to the side before making eye contact. “I said, did you find what you’re looking for.” Your lips part in disbelief before you storm over to him, jabbing a finger into his chest.

“JJ, unlike me, I did it because Rafe asked me to. But you,” you poke him harder, “you had sex with a kook, your enemy’s girlfriend. How do you think that would go down with your friends, huh? What’s your excuse then?” JJ looks taken aback, momentarily speechless. His bravado falters for just a second, enough to show that your words have hit their mark.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you chuckle bitterly. “Don’t talk to me, and don’t even look at me.” You spin on your heel and march back to Rafe’s car, your heart pounding with a mix of anger and adrenaline. You can feel JJ’s eyes on your back, but you don’t turn around.

As you reach the car, you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before opening the door and sliding back into the seat. Rafe’s gaze meets yours, a mix of concern and anger in his eyes. “Everything okay?” he asks, his voice low and tense. You nod, exhaling slowly. “Yeah, let’s just get out of here,” you say, buckling your seatbelt and glancing at JJ one last time before Rafe pulls away,

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Will you forsake me, my love? And the babe I carry?❞

[ You had made a mistake. A slip up. You had overlooked the extent of Otto Hightower and his greed. Now you must make it right... or pay in fire and blood. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 5,504 ] [ series masterlist ] | jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt-wife!reader (aegon's twin sister),

contains— canon divergence - manipulative reader— gets darkish but not yet dd:dne - targcest, angsty as fuck, pregnancy - nsfw: p & v sex, oral (male receiving) - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— i... actually dunno how i got here tbh. thankfully, this isn't dead dove quite yet, but you, yes you, as jace's manipulative targ wife, almost did, girl, jfc. ahahaha! comments, reblogs & like at will, mwa! 💝 + now that there is a second part, and a third part i'm plotting (uh huh), this is officially a series!! its v loosey goosey, but it'll have a masterlist so... it means it has a taglist! message me to be tagged 💝 & if there are any drabbles/blurbs you wanna see!! message me lmk!! i have so many thoughts about jacey & manipulative reader hehe + dividers by @danowh0re

The only warning you receive is the missive hastily made by your twin.

In his panic, Aegon's scrawl had been barely legible, but the cold sweat that shot through your spine at making sense of the text had you keening over; fingers over your mouth, a dangerous gurgle in your stomach.

The world tilts, the air sucks inward.

Fear... Cold, weightless fear, settles in your heart.

"Princess!" Your maid, Dyana, shrieks, hands grasping your elbows to prevent you from falling. She turns to the door. "Call the maestre back! Now!"

You shake your head rapidly. "No, no. No Ser Addam. I am alright."

"But princess—"

"No, Dyana, I am alright." But you are pale, and a thrum shakes through fingers, rattling your ribcage and trying to yank your heart out of your throat. You have to find your footing or all will be lost. You grab Dyanna's arms and she winces. "Tell me- the prince - where is he?"

"I'm not sure, princess, I can—"

"Quickly! We shan't lose precious more time."

You turn to Meera. You had invested in her from the early age you had taken her in from the orphanage. Loyalty, in its absolution, must be rewarded.

And ease for your own plans can be disguised as a reward.

She steps forward obediently, hands clasped behind her back like a soldier awaiting orders. She is nondescript with plain features, easily able to hide between other common folk; and no one, truly, looks at a maid.

"Go to the Sea Dragon Tower, wait on the Rookery for Johan. Only Johan, do you understand me? Keep the missive that I will dictate to you close to his heart, hidden, and he must depart immediately. Throw extra gold at the captain, I do not care. Meera, no other eyes must touch the paper I will send, tell him of the utter import such a thing. No other than another Spider. We cannot unravel further than this or we will start burning."

Meera's gaze darkens, her posture straightening. "Yes, your grace."

You grasp her hands, your mind whirring— so many plots, so many lies, in between them, he flashes in your mind; the dark hair, the warmth of his hand, the sweet, simpered smile and the flicker of rage that dances like a flame. In and out and calmed and wild.

Dutiful. A Perfect Son. A Beloved Prince. Your Lord Husband.

He flashes in between plans and unraveled lies. Along it, Aegon's missive, quickly written, panic seeping in every vowel.

Grandsire had gotten to Aemond's head. Went to Storm's End. Met Lucerys. They are calling him Kinslayer.

Your head is pounding. Kinslayer, Kinslayer, Kinslayer. It churns your stomach, dries your throat. Lucerys dead. Aemond beheaded. Jacaerys' rage. Rhaenyra's. Dark Sister in the Rogue Prince's hand. All your clever threads, your webs and tales, everything you have sacrificed to get here— they are unraveling, the lives you care about, your fondness and love — the fear has moulded and churned; the Stranger now haunting the skies, searching for names, trying to grasp for your neck.

Aemond, You, Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, Jaeheara, Jaehearys, Maelor—

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

Your baby brother. Marred and disfigured, dutiful and dedicated. Sarcastic and princely; dancing with you if you ask. Reading with him in the library. A flickering hearth, a kind eye, a protective arm.

Your baby brother, beheaded, gaping mouth and bloodred eye.

Justice spun and spun, but oh so corrupted when they had taken his eye and no name step forth to claim.

Disfigured, marred, and dead.

Focus, you think, your mouth moving, words spilling, plans stretching. Focus.

Otto Hightower must die. It is a pressing thought, digging into the centrefold of your mushy, wet brain. Pressing and pressing like a fever as words of instructions, orders, must be sent along one spider to another.

Your hand drifts to your stomach as Meera leaves, in her head the words that must reach King's Landing. That must pass only the cleverest of hands. Your hand curls, your fist tightens enough that blood clots and beads through crescent rings. Clever girl. Clever spider. You have to believe in Meera and the people under your hushed employ.

You have no choice. You have built your webs, you must trust your spiders.

Not when you can't even trust your own fucking blood.

It took a while to get your network going in Dragonstone. As soon as the smell of brimstone and dragon broached your nostrils, the plans for moving what you had started in Kings Landing became the forefront plan. There is only so much movement you can make in a board full of enemies; and with so many more things to do, you cannot be restrained.

People with stakes, with ambitions and wants of their own— be that money, a good future, a house with warmth and love — if you can provide it enough, dash it in enough kindness and care, people, like ants, could move mountains for you.

It took most of hyour life to have what you established in Kings Landing. Most of your free time— feiging afternoon teas, walks along the garden; young lady things that will not arouse suspicion, fit for a pious, devoted daughter of Alicent Hightower — was spent building and building webs.

Thankfully, as a Princess of the Realm— and as the future Heir's wife, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms (the title tingles and throbs, comes alive in gasps and winning hands) — you can have your pick of maids and lady in waitings here too. Connections are important, and Jacaerys did not bereaved you of choice.

In fact, he so encouraged you to make changes to Dragonstone as you so chose fit.

"You are my wife," he sighed, pressing kiss after kiss to the side of your head. When he was wrapped around you like this— arms around your torso, a finger, almost absentmindedly, rubbing just the underside of your breast, and the smell of him, boyish but smoky, like a fireplace and first kiss, swaying you to a rhythm he is fond of, absentminded almost — it reminded you of how Vermax oft like to wrap around small hills and large rocks. A dragon mimicking another dragon; a twin soul so connected.

He sighed again as you run your own fingers against the back of his palm, against the side of his head behind you. "You may do so as you wish," he finished, nuzzling further into you as if he wants no more than to become one with you, flesh and blood. An engorged monster of sorts.

"Just your wife?" you teased. The wedding had only been a few moons ago. The missive had been immediately sent to Kings Landing (under your orders, of course, your new husband none the wiser as he had preferred a few more days of just you), and before lunch, your hand on Jace's thigh, his eyes more than hungrily looking at your lips— Caraxes screech alongside Syrax' wing pattern shook the walls, demanding answers.

Jace had looked nervous for a second, not at all prepared to be facing his mother so soon, his Queen, and his stepfather... whose own daughter he was supposed to marry. Better prepared to face all of them in Kings Landing was his plan.

But you had grasped his hands, had mounted girlish excitement shining in your eyes (an expression so familiar to you to adopt that it so perfectly hides the sharp edges of your excitement; your smugness. It oft reminds you of Aemond)— and Jacaerys had melted.

"My Queen," he reimbursed. You turned as his hands cupped your face. Gentle, possessive in its own way. You sighed, eyes fluttering close with a small, satisfied smile on your lips. "My beautiful queen."

A Maiden in love is not a hard thing to emulate. And he does not make it hard to be.

On some days, you even think it will be easy to actually fall in love with him. You already do so feel his warmth for you permeate your own being. His attention is addicting for one; it is whole and preserving. He makes it known when he is looking at his lady mother, at Baela, his former betrothed (who had given you a meaningful eye when Rhaenyra and Daemon escorted you back to Kings Landing to face the rest of your consequences), and other ladies of the court versus when he is looking at you.

He does not hide his adoration. His so obvious desire.

When you reward him for his loyalty, for private little ticked boxes you keep for him— siding with you in arguments, defending you upon ugly whispers in the Keep, requesting from his mother, a more permanent residence of your own in Dragonstone, in the guise of newly wedded bliss to hide growing your connections far and wide (once Rhaenyra takes the throne, Jacaerys will be named Heir and Prince of Dragonstone; your spiders and people must reach each end of Westeros, and Dragonstone is the perfect central chatter) — you mount him and bask at the lust contorting his features, at his hands gripping your waist in a staccato rhythm of feeling and gasp, each harsh bounce of your hips sending you both to bliss. You feel him inside you so deeply, enjoy his eyes rolling back and exposing his neck for you to sink bruises on.

Most oft, he enjoys mounting you. And you like the alternative of his choice to be buried so deep you feel him in your throat; to hold you down and hold you close, telling you to keep your eyes open for him as you come undone again and again— time and practice can manage his newness to the act. His enthusiasm, both for the act and for you, definitely helps his case, and he is so fond of finding your pleasure, of leading you to the precipe, so addicted to your sounds and writhes.

"There? Is that it, little dragon?" he huffs against your mouth, so attentive as he held your wrist and watch as you gasp, your face twisting as he hits that point inside of you, that sweet, sweet spot of undeniable pleasure buried so deep within— that he laughs. Not meanly, but of pride as he pulls back and hits it again. More insistent. You mewl and scratch his back, your toes curling as you seek the pleasure he so enjoys insisting you into.

"I've found it again, didn't I?" Another snap of his hips, another cry of your lips. "I will fuck your sweetest spot until you- are- crying- my name in that sweet, sweet whine of yours, shall I?"

But it's not really a question privy to an answer, surely not by your own mouth but by your body, as he manhandles you easily and does not stop until you are a quivering, overstimulated mess against wet sheets.

Sometimes, when you can't help but reward him as soon as possible— so excited from his gallant display; the perfect King bowing to his wife — you drag him to shadowy corners and solemnly drop yourself on your knees, unlacing his breeches with deft precision. You place your hot mouth against his manhood, your eyes fluttering delicately, making him reach completion enough times that he is left with a dopey, simpleton of a smile afterward, a soft, chaste kiss against your your head, your nose, your lips. So tender to how he was fucking your mouth not but seconds ago.

"I love you," he whispers against hot skin and cool, salty air.

And it eases, every time he looks at you like that, holds like you that. His love is patient, sweet, kind, and devouring. It overflows and seeps into you that when you whisper back, just as soft, just as troublingly honest, "Avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes, I love you, my dragon," the truth of them bleeds further and further into your heart.

Jacaerys.

A warm grief swells within you. Your hands twitch, flattening your grief beneath your chest, deep in your gut. Deep below. You fought hard to be here. You cannot lose him now.

Otto Hightower must die.

A cruel thought, a natural order. With your marriage to Jacaerys meant a relative peace, a truce. Moving to Dragonstone many moons was more than just to establish your position, your future. It was also for your darling sister to take better control of her position back in the centre of power, alongside her husband.

Aged well with a stronger alley who most would not dare defy— a vainglorious guard dog, really, one who isn't afraid to sic people with a mere nod from his master — more than evens out the playing field.

The Queen To Be is prospering. And in her prosper, meant your husband's position more than fulfilled. He was to be King, and with you as his Queen, his reign will want for not.

You should have known it would put Otto on defense, would panic and use your siblings and your poor, nervy mother, to move in unfeasible decisions.

Aegon had taken to calling him grandsire again. Aemond... Your spiders had told you that Lucerys was sent to Storm's End as no more than a casual reminder of Lord Borros' oath. Viserys was in no doubt in worse conditions than he had been the last time you or your husband had visited him. Rhaenyra was settling on her position, reminding the Great Houses which heir was meant to rise soon, so close to the changing of the guard.

And your little brother no doubt was moved in panic.

This was a slip up on your part. Once the King was dead, Otto Hightower would hold no cards; Rhaenyra would never take him as Lord Hand, and his daughter would no longer be a foreground of power. Rhaenyra has her heir. The winning hand is more than ensured on her part.

His only move would be an usurpation, and would ruin your chance at being Queen... it was a good move. Your twin was not made for duty whilst you craved it. He knows you better than you know yourself; you will not be played in his palm. You would be useless to him.

"I should have killed him," you murmur to yourself.

Yna, the last maid in your arsenal, steps forward. She is the youngest of your main three wards, and the newest. She is still learning her letters, but she is young and always eager to serve.

"My lady?"

"I am going to find the prince. Whatever happens, tell them Vermax must not leave with his rider. Make up any excuse you must. My husband must stay in Dragonstone until I say otherwise." You raise your chin, tone icy. "Anyone who dares to defy my orders will be beheaded."

"At once, princess."

Your steps are measured, your breath held between lie and tongue. So many pretty rings on your fingers, twisting and twisting at the idea of the confrontation plagues you.

But you raise your chin. You will not be defeated. All is not lost.

Dyanna had caught you at Aegon's Garden, windblow hair and wide, fearful eyes.

You had braced yourself. "The Prince?"

"The Stone Drum, my princess, he is..."

"Angry," you supplied. She nodded jerkily. "Tell me everything."

"The Prince was talking with Ser Robert, was about the missive sent from Kings Landing says Kevan, not soon after your own." Another spider, one that follows most of your husband's movements. Unassuming and quick on his feet. A good soldier. "Prince Lucerys is alive but badly maimed." The breath you had withheld between grit and fright unrolled, the world slamming back into the ground in a giant's fitful wake. "He still hasn't woken up, says Arrax took most of the damage— one wing torn but is awake. Dunno about recovery for dragons, 'specially against Vhagar. Mournin' the prince, Kevan says. Makin' loud, sad dragon noises."

"But he is alive?" you pressed. Aemond's life hung in its balance. Your sweet, vengeful baby brother who bore his tragedies between muted teeth and rage.

"Yes."

"And Aemond?"

"No word in the missive or between them." It made your throat tight, the convulsion restraining your neck once more.

"It's fine. As long as there no mention of his death. Then that's all I need."

"My lady, there's more. There might be a reason we haven't been getting much word from King's Landing. Or Oldtown. It seems to connect is all."

Your pulse jumped. "Tell me later. I have to see to the prince. No one is allowed in Stone Drum for the time being. Not unless absolutely necessary." You think and you think hard. "Ready to call in a maestre."

Dyanna had looked alarmed when you left her, but you only gave a pensive smile. A soldier's nod.

He is bent over the Painted Table, shoulders so hunched, reminding you of monsters and tall tales. A dragon, really. He may not have Velaryon blood, your husband, but you— nor others — could deny the thrum of fire in his blood. Roiling and boiling, so engulf in his rage, his voice is quiet at the approach of your footsteps.

"You have bound me to Dragonstone," he says calmly with all the quiet rage you can hear in your very soul. It makes you shiver, but you stand resolute.

He is still turned away, away from you, palms flat on the surface. The iron brazier is lit up, and so is the Painted Table itself.

"Can you honestly tell me you won't try and kill my brother if I let you, ñuha valzȳrys my husband?" you say softly. You plead. His refusal to turn to you spikes your madness in corners. The night reaches and you finger your rings as you try not to spill all over the floor; your own madness, your own fears, your quiet, quiet webs. "Aren't you at least satisfied at the thought of your stepfather excelling at planting Dark Sister to his neck? At least cheery at the idea of him suffering inside those dungeons?"

He spins then, rage—white hot and spilling — breathes as he bellows, "He has harmed my brother!"

You calmly met his gaze. "You do not know that for sure."

He laughs without mirth, arms wide and daring. Crazed anger outlandish and wild, while in response you tighten and become small.

But you do not cower. No truth cowers. And you are a princess. A dragon the same as he.

Lest all, he is a mere husband.

"What else could it be? Your brother has called us bastards our entire lives," he spits. "Neither of us are blind to his dark looks. Despite your family's attempted plots, his rage beholds him. His grudge is stronger. He attacked Lucerys, on fucking dragonback— Arrax, a dragon Luke has barely flown against your brother's war dragon — and that makes him a kinslayer."

Your blood leaps, and you cannot control your own fear, your own anger. "Do not throw that word around so carelessly, Jacaerys! My brother has killed no kin!"

"He has tried, " he hisses and it makes your eyes burn because he has never looked at you so before. At his thunderous footsteps to reach you, to aggravate you, you fight the urge to flinch. His anger spills and spoils you. You try not to curdle. You keep yourself braced. Kinslayer is so ugly said aloud. "That is enough of a brand to call him kinslayer."

Your jaw tightens, tears unleashed from your eyes and there's a glimmer there— a spark, of your Jace. Your husband. It is small and short, a comet so faint it is almost nothing, but it is there.

He does not like to see you cry, your Jace. Not if it isn't from pleasure.

You raise your chin. "My brother is no kinslayer. Lucerys is alive. Do not make Aemond what he is not."

He laughs humourlessly against your face, his hand reaching for your jaw, thumb over your chin, but the mock gentleness wounds you worse. "And who has alerted you of the news? Your twin usurper?"

"W-what?" Blood rushes to your head. Something is missing. He knows. He knows about grandsire's plans. Dyanna would have said. Dyanna didn't know. "Aegon is not an usurper," you whisper, faint but firm.

His thumb rubs against your bottom lip, his eyes tracing your face. "Is this the plan all along, then?" he says softly. "While your brother and grandsire plot to usurp the throne from my mother, and your younger brothers raise bannermen from Oldtown to Storm's End, and try to kill my own when they get the chance, I suppose your job is to warm my bed and to ensure I'm out of the fray before you kill me in my—"

His words stutter for you have slapped him. It is not the hardest move on your part, and he stops not from pain but from shock. Tears freely flow down your face now as you push him off you.

"I know nothing of these plots you speak of." That in much is true. These plots are half-assed. Made in panic and fear, and it makes you curse Otto Hightower to the depths of further Hell. "And you may bully me as you wish, husband, but I will not take it as if it does not hurt me. As if- as if I would take pleasure from your death."

He raises his chin, so defiant in his own anger that he clenches his jaw. "Are you telling me you took no part in your grandsire's plans?"

"We have been married for many moons now. I think, out of anyone on this island, amongst our family even, you would know me best. I have only ever truly bloomed in your presence," you say softly. Lies and truths are balanced so precariously; they spin and spin in a tantalising grip that even you don't know where fabrication meets honesty.

If your own lies befuddle you, why not your truths to him?

"If you are doubting me, then you are doubting our marriage, is it not?" You give a mirthless laugh of your own, chin wobbling as you brush your tears away. His eyes track your movements and his brows are furrowed. "Is it ease, that has turned you so from me? Has your doubt been seeded long before you took us to Dragonstone? To affirm your mother that you have wedded me? Yes, Aegon sent me a missive a mere hour ago. He says Aemond had been urged by our grandsire, no doubt played with as he had done so to our mother, as he tries with Aegon. With me."

Jacaerys' eyes darken. Bottomless pits of dark, dark eyes. You've grown to love them you realised.

"I will give you all the violet-eyed heirs you desire," you had purred once in your new marriage bed, having just christened (one to a few times) your new marital chambers in Dragonstone. "But I do so wish I get a babe with your eyes."

"They are hardly exemplary," Jace had said, snorting. His hand rested on your back while you rest on top of him. The air is acrid in sweat and sex, but neither of you mind. "They are not a show of Valyrian blood."

"Who cares?" You reached to dance your finger against his lashes. "A daughter with your eyes... I fear, I would spoil her rotten. She would be an absolute beauty."

"Are you calling me a beauty?" he teased, trying to hide his rosy cheeks.

"Your eyes, yes," you teased back.

"If I was such a pawn to him," you say now. "If I was using you as you so callously accused me of, why would I bother with a marriage with you? You are right, they have accused you of not being a trueborn Velaryon—" He flinches. "—So why would Otto decide marrying you was a good idea at all? Any babes I carry would be questioned, and it would serve no benefit at all if the main plot was Aegon usurping the throne. To keep you entertained? Hardly. It would serve him better, as was his earlier plan, if I had married Aegon myself."

He loses his stance, a grit in his teeth gives you way to a slow curl of possession. A renewed sense of anger. His fists clenched at his sides.

You found a thread. You don't just unspool, you decide, you will yank, and you will yank hard.

"Aegon is a firstborn male heir, even as twins. It made sense to anyone who understood Targaryen customs that marrying us would be the natural order. It did not matter any past transgressions he may have had, I keep him better. I am his tether to this world. It was obvious to anybody with eyes that if we were to marry, we would breed good Valyrian stock, our children—"

But he has lurched forward, grasping your face, seething, angry at an idea, at a diverted road.

"He wanted us to marry," you continue, a snake's hiss that it is. "But your mother sent a missive asking for Helaena's hand, and I had already told her I wanted someone else. I wanted you." You grasp his leather, pulling him to you in equal ferocity. Madness meeting a mirror. "From the very start, grandsire could not control me for my blood sung for you. I had done my very best to free my siblings from him, resigned myself to be their forever protector inside that Keep with no real power of my own, but when the Gods gave me the chance to have you, I had been selfish. I abandoned them for you. Because I wanted to be yours for a night, I was willing to have that, if it is the only moment you will grant me."

You are crying again, and lies are spinning with their truths, golden and bloodstained, but you are cracking him.

"But it was you, Jacaerys Velaryon, who had asked for my hand. You wanted to marry, whisk us away to Dragonstone, and I love you too much to blind myself to the idea of becoming your wife would not be a totally selfish act, for what act of ours would be considered selfish if it was borne out of love?" you sob hard, grasping and reaching against him, trying to shake and ruin him. "I thought you loved me, and yet here you are, accusing me of plotting? What? Usurping your mother? Killing you in your godsdamned sleep?"

"Wife, I—"

"No. I am sorry for what happened to Lucerys. But if it is vengeance that is truly what you seek, and in the morrow my brother," my choke out. "My brother would be announced d-dead, I would rather you kill me now for it seems I have not only failed them from my grandsire's clutches, I have also failed at being your wife."

Your hands reach in and pull his dagger out, and he is instinctive, a true swordsman, holding onto the dagger before your own. But you do not give up. You yank him forward so suddenly, the dagger now positioned over your heart.

You keep him there, defiant as you are. As no true dragon is afraid of metal. Metal melt in the face of dragonfire.

The tip of his dagger deepens against your skin as war rages in his own mind. Truths and lies spinning and spinning in his head, but your thread— your thread is Hightower green clung in blood and gold — and it's the brightest, twisting beneath his lids and rage. Rage and grief, the tethering madness is spilling, trying to break into the dragon's clutches—

But your Jace is strong. He holds it at bay with a fury.

It is love, it is love, it is love.

But you are not sure. And you have to be.

You have been betrayed already, your Jace cannot betray you. If you are to have a future with him as King, there must be no doubts.

You step forward, letting the blade sink against your skin. It draws blood. A few beads bloom and slide. Thick red in a string or two. It makes his jaw tighten, and you feel, almost impercibly, the strain in his hand give.

That flash of panic, panic bathed in love, in adoration, is all you need.

You grasp his hands in yours, blade nestled between two grips now, and he gasps, thinking you were going to push him away finally, but no. You hold on tight to his hands, nails digging into his skin, keeping the blade where it is before you push forward once more. The tip sinks into your flesh, blood gushes as pain explodes.

"What are you doing!? Let go!" he roars, but you stare at his eyes, brown, so pretty, framed in featherlight lashes, did he even know there are violet flecks in his eyes?

You will not harm me, you think. You realise. For you have given yourself to me body and soul. Even the Gods know.

"Will you forsake me, husband?" your voice is no higher than a whisper, than a wind's hum. It is hollow and cracking. A siren song. In the silence, it is a whip cracking against petty flesh. Against a beating heart thrumming for you. "And the babe I carry?"

Before the words register in his brain, you yank his hands again with every strength you can muster, the dagger, to hover over your stomach. Your Jace roars, pulling with his entire strength as complete fear in floods his beautiful, brown eyes. The strength propels your force of gravity, and you fall with a hard thud. The dagger is flung in the second as he reaches for you, cold-curdled terror ruining his face as he tries to make sense of where to touch you.

The fall is hard enough that you wince. And your instincts, new as it is, is to curl your hands protectively over your stomach.

"M-my heart? Does it hurt? I-I am so sorry, I-A MAESTRE, CALL A MAESTRE FOR THE PRINCESS NOW!"

Your child is strong, you have always known that in your heart.

The second you held suspicion, pressing against the tender flesh of your breast to the nausea that kicked in out of nowhere, before Maestre Gerardys had confirmed: you are with child. Your firstborn. The heir of heirs. You could not wait to meet him.

"I hope it is a boy," you murmur weakly into the darkened space of your chambers. You don't turn as Jacaerys' head snaps, his hands over your own, sat on a chair by your bedside. Relief, guilt, fear breaks and crashes in waves against him, trying to nudge you, but you don't look. You stare from your position on the bed; forward and into nothingness.

"My love," he breathes, hands against your own warm and tight. "I am so, so sorry. I shall call for a maestre—"

"No need." Your other hand moves to your stomach. An emotion glimmers in his gaze at the movement. "My babe is strong. Blood of the dragon that he is. I know him already in my blood. Call for my maid instead. Any of them. Tell them to move my things to a different room, perhaps the one above Aegon's Garden. By morn, I will fly to Kings Landing to be with my family."

Panic fills and breaks. His hold tightens. "I-If that is what you wish, we can go as soon as Maestre Gerardys says it is alright for you and the—"

You turn to him, finally, your eyes dead of emotion. "I will go for I do not think you would like your would-be murderer to sleep beside you, haunting you with a dagger. This way, I can take advice from my mother about births and the like, and you can sleep comfortably. Do not worry, I will not poison you to your child's mind. You may visit him as you would like. You might even take comfort in knowing your mother would look for him as if he were hers. She is so very motherly, I'm sure she would enjoy a grand..."

Your words drift off as he had fallen to his knees, tears soaking your hand as he presses it to his face. You feel like the Mother, looking down on a penitent. Or the Father. Or the Stranger. You feel complete, as his apologies fall in graceless, shaky exhales and sobs. The axe is in your hand. His neck is exposed.

"—I will do anything, a-anything for your f-forgiveness. Y-You can move rooms if it comforts you, I will not s-shadow your doorway, but please. Please. Do not leave me. Anything. I will do anything."

You, and you alone, is the owner of his absolution.

You smile, despite yourself.

Maybe you should reward your grandsire after all.

TAGGED (bold means I couldn't tag you: @inkareds @marihoneywk @caterina-caterina @ahristata

[millyh23]

Rivalry To Romance

Katie McCabe x Reader

Word count: 13.4k

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Katie McCabe had always prided herself on her loyalty to her team and her country. Playing for the Republic of Ireland wasn’t just a position—it was an identity. That’s why, when Arsenal announced their newest signing, Katie’s stomach churned with a mix of anger and disbelief.

Y/N Y/L/N from Northern Ireland. Her fiercest rival.

The rumors were true; Y/N had signed with Arsenal, her club, her territory. Katie couldn't shake the memory of their last match, where Y/N's last-minute tackle had nearly cost Ireland the game. She could still remember the cold glares they exchanged, the heated words they spat across the pitch, and the way Y/N stood unfazed by Katie’s ire.

“Hey, Katie, look who’s here!” Leah called, snapping Katie out of her thoughts as Y/N entered the locker room, glancing around the space as if she owned it.

Katie clenched her fists. Here they go.

“McCabe,” Y/N greeted, her voice cool as she acknowledged her.

“Y/L/N,” Katie replied, voice icy.

From that first meeting, it was like the air between them carried an electric charge. Training drills became intense battles; Katie would push Y/N off the ball, and Y/N would retaliate with a perfectly-timed tackle. The team was torn between amusement and exasperation, watching the two rivals go head-to-head every day.

Arsenal’s training grounds hummed with the usual energy, players jogging onto the pitch and taking their positions. The team was warming up, but Katie could feel the static tension creeping up her spine. It wasn’t just the usual excitement of a new training session. It was the unmistakable edge she felt every time Y/N was nearby.

Katie glanced to her right, where Y/N was adjusting her shin guards. She caught Y/N’s eye and rolled her shoulders back, flashing a smirk she knew would rile her up.

“Ready for a proper session, Y/L/N?” Katie said with a challenging grin. “Or are you only fierce when it’s Northern Ireland on your shirt?”

Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms. “Trust me, McCabe. I don’t need a green shirt to beat you.”

Their teammates watched as the two squared up, a mix of amusement and anticipation rippling through the group. This rivalry had become daily entertainment.

Coach Jonas clapped his hands. “Alright, let’s go—small-sided games. Five-a-side!” He started dividing players, and by some stroke of either luck or irony, Katie and Y/N ended up on opposing teams.

It was a fierce game from the start. Katie and Y/N seemed to gravitate toward each other, each of them upping the intensity with every pass, every tackle. Katie saw an opening, her teammate Leah ready to receive the ball, but the second she passed, Y/N was there, intercepting the play and charging up the field.

Katie chased her down, getting close enough to snap, “Keep dreaming if you think you’re gonna get past me.”

Y/N didn’t break stride. “Watch me.”

Katie lunged in, aiming to win back possession, but Y/N anticipated it and deftly sidestepped, sending Katie stumbling as Y/N dribbled past. Laughter broke out from the sidelines, and Katie’s face flushed as Y/N shot her a triumphant smirk.

Katie felt a flash of anger surge through her veins. She caught up to Y/N, deliberately closing in too fast, and clipped her ankle just as she went to take a shot. Y/N stumbled, barely staying on her feet, and whipped around to glare at Katie.

“Seriously?” Y/N snapped, her voice sharp. “What’s your problem, McCabe?”

Katie put her hands on her hips, unbothered by the accusation. “My problem? Maybe it’s that you can’t keep up, but you’re always running your mouth.”

Y/N stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. “Keep up? I’m leaving you in the dust every time, and you can’t handle it.”

Katie rolled her eyes, putting her face inches from Y/N’s. “Please, you only look good out there because I’m going easy on you.”

“Oh, that’s hilarious,” Y/N shot back, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Keep telling yourself that, Katie.”

The tension had hit a breaking point. They were nose-to-nose, both breathing heavily, eyes locked in a fierce standoff.

Before either could say anything more, Leah stepped between them, her tone somewhere between amused and exasperated. “Alright, alright, break it up, you two. You’re both as stubborn as bricks.” She looked between them, raising an eyebrow. “If you spent half this energy playing together instead of against each other, we’d be unstoppable.”

Katie huffed, but took a step back, her eyes never leaving Y/N’s.

Y/N finally let out a slow breath, her gaze just as intense. “Fine,” she muttered, brushing past Katie as she moved back into position. “Just try to keep up.”

But as they returned to the game, something had shifted. Every pass, every movement, had an extra layer of intensity, neither willing to back down. For better or worse, training with Y/N had become Katie’s new battle, and she was all in.

Training was in full swing under a blazing sun. The team had split into small groups for a scrimmage, and as usual, Katie and Y/N had found themselves on opposing sides. It was a familiar, tense setup, but today felt different. The energy between them was sharper, like a wire pulled taut, ready to snap.

The game had barely begun when Y/N received the ball in the midfield. She pivoted, sidestepping an opponent, her eyes scanning the field for an opening. Katie saw her chance and surged forward, narrowing in on Y/N like a missile.

Y/N barely had time to react before Katie came in, sliding in with a tackle that was nowhere near clean. Her cleats clipped Y/N’s knee, sending her sprawling to the ground. The sound of the impact echoed, and a few teammates gasped as Y/N hit the turf, hard.

Katie pushed herself to her feet, but before she could turn away, Y/N was already up, her face twisted in fury.

“Are you kidding me, McCabe?” Y/N barked, shoving her back.

Katie staggered a step but quickly steadied herself, her jaw clenched. “What? Can’t handle a little tackle?” she shot back, voice dripping with mock innocence. “Maybe you’re not cut out for the game.”

Y/N’s fists clenched at her sides. “A little tackle? You practically tried to break my leg!”

Katie stepped closer, her voice low and menacing. “Maybe if you were quicker, I wouldn’t have to.”

That was it. Y/N’s hand flew out, giving Katie another hard shove, this time with more force. Katie’s expression shifted, anger flashing in her eyes as she recovered and shoved her right back. It was harder, enough to make Y/N take a few steps back, but she recovered just as fast.

Without thinking, Y/N surged forward, and suddenly, they were chest-to-chest, faces inches apart, breathing heavily as anger radiated between them.

“Say that again,” Y/N hissed, her eyes blazing. “I dare you.”

Katie leaned in, her eyes flashing with a dangerous glint. “You heard me. Maybe it’s time someone knocked you down a peg, Y/L/N.”

Y/N let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You’re so full of yourself, McCabe. Just because you’re Ireland’s pride doesn’t mean everyone else is beneath you.”

Katie’s jaw tightened, her expression turning icy. “And just because you wear a badge doesn’t mean you belong here. You’re not Arsenal material.”

That hit a nerve, and Y/N’s patience finally snapped. She grabbed the front of Katie’s training shirt, pulling her closer, but Katie was just as quick, gripping Y/N’s wrist and holding it in a tight lock. The tension between them was palpable, both locked in a furious standoff.

Their teammates were watching in shocked silence, unsure of whether to intervene or let them sort it out.

“Katie, Y/N, that’s enough!” Leah shouted, stepping forward, but neither moved.

Katie’s grip tightened on Y/N’s wrist, her voice barely above a whisper but laced with fury. “You think you can come in here, walk all over everyone, and just fit right in? I’ve been here for years. I’ve bled for this team. You haven’t earned it.”

Y/N yanked her hand free and shoved Katie again, harder this time, and Katie stumbled backward, but she quickly regained her footing, fists clenched. Before she could respond, Beth and Leah stepped in, each grabbing one of the girls to separate them.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Leah said, her voice firm. “You two are acting like children.”

Katie glared over Leah’s shoulder, still breathing heavily. “Tell that to her.”

“Oh, please, Katie!” Y/N spat back, struggling against Beth’s hold. “At least I don’t go around acting like I own the place.”

Beth rolled her eyes, trying to keep Y/N steady. “Look, if you two want to kill each other, do it off the pitch. Right now, we’re a team.”

Katie huffed, finally breaking her gaze from Y/N, though her face was still flushed with anger. “Fine,” she muttered, wrenching herself free from Leah’s grip. She stormed off a few paces, but couldn’t resist one last glare back in Y/N’s direction.

Y/N shook her head, shrugging off Beth’s hold. “Whatever. Just keep her out of my way,” she muttered before turning to walk back to her spot on the pitch.

As the two resumed their positions, their teammates exchanged uneasy glances, but one thing was clear: this wasn’t over. The fire between them had only been stoked, and it was only a matter of time before it flared up again.

Preseason camp had only just begun, and the Arsenal players were still settling into their assigned rooms. Spirits were high as teammates unpacked, talking excitedly about the upcoming season and all the memories they’d make on this trip.

But down the hall, the atmosphere was anything but cheerful.

Katie McCabe stood frozen outside her assigned room, staring at the name on the door next to hers in disbelief. She rubbed her eyes, double-checking. There was no mistaking it.

“Room 14A: Katie McCabe and Y/N Y/L/N”

A frustrated groan escaped her lips. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

At that very moment, Y/N rounded the corner, stopping in her tracks as soon as she saw Katie standing there. Her eyes fell on the door, and she blanched, reading her worst nightmare confirmed in bold letters.

“No way. This has to be a mistake,” Y/N muttered, her voice dripping with irritation.

“Believe me, I couldn’t agree more,” Katie snapped. “Who thought it was a good idea to put us in the same room?”

Y/N clenched her jaw. “Just great. The one person on this team I can’t stand, and I’m supposed to live with her for the next two weeks?”

Katie crossed her arms, shooting Y/N an icy glare. “Don’t worry; I won’t be throwing you any welcome parties either.”

The two stood in tense silence until Leah walked by, catching their expressions.

“What’s up with you two?” she asked, looking between them with an amused smile.

“What’s up? What’s up?” Katie fumed, hands gesturing wildly. “I’m roomed with her, that’s what’s up!”

Y/N threw her hands up in exasperation. “Oh, don’t act like this is a dream come true for me either, Katie.”

Leah stifled a laugh. “I don’t know; maybe you two will actually learn to get along if you’re forced to spend some time together.”

Katie scoffed, but Leah was already walking away, ignoring her protests.

“Learn to get along?” Katie muttered, turning to Y/N. “She’s delusional.”

Y/N didn’t waste a second to turn away, muttering as she marched toward her teammates who were gathered down the hall. As soon as she reached them, she put on her most pleading expression. “Please, someone switch with me,” she begged. “I’ll take anyone—even Beth, and she snores like a lawnmower.”

Beth raised her eyebrows in mock offense. “Hey, don’t drag me into this! Besides, I think it’s poetic justice.” She exchanged a glance with Leah, both grinning as they enjoyed the unfolding drama.

“You all think this is hilarious, don’t you?” Y/N groaned.

“Absolutely,” Leah replied, not even trying to hide her laughter.

Meanwhile, Katie was ranting to her own little group on the other end of the hall.

“It’s like the universe is punishing me. I finally make it through all the preseason drills, and now this?” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “All she does is talk back, glare, and then act like I’m the problem!”

Jen leaned against the wall, clearly amused. “You’re the one talking about her nonstop, Katie. Sounds like you’ve got it bad.”

Katie shot her a glare. “I do not ‘have it bad.’ I have it terribly.”

Down the hall, Y/N continued her complaints to Beth and Caitlin, who were listening with barely hidden amusement. “I’m telling you, I’ll be lucky if we don’t end up killing each other by the end of the week,” Y/N said, crossing her arms. “She’s got this whole ‘I’m too good for everyone’ thing going on, like she’s the queen of Arsenal.”

Beth shrugged, clearly unfazed by Y/N’s complaints. “She’s been here a long time. She probably thinks you’re here to take her spot.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “As if I care about taking her spot.”

“Maybe,” Caitlin interjected, smirking. “But she thinks you do.”

Just as Y/N was about to retort, Coach Jonas walked by and caught a few words of their conversation. He paused, taking in the glares Katie and Y/N were shooting each other across the hallway.

“Alright, alright,” Jonas said, clapping his hands. “If I’m hearing complaints from both sides, then maybe this arrangement is exactly what you two need. Who knows? You might actually learn something from each other.”

Katie opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off with a knowing look. “No room swaps. Consider it a preseason exercise in…team bonding.”

He walked away, leaving Katie and Y/N fuming in the middle of the hall.

Once he was out of sight, Katie threw her hands up, clearly frustrated. “Fine. But stay out of my way, Y/L/N. We’re on opposite schedules. I’ll shower at night; you take the morning.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Great. Fine by me. I’d rather not have to look at you first thing in the morning.”

Katie shot her one last glare before grabbing her bags and shoving her way into the room. Y/N followed suit, dragging her things in and slamming the door behind her.

And so, the rivals were roomed together, forced to share a space and to tolerate each other’s presence. But if one thing was clear, it was that neither would make this easy on the other.

Preseason training was already intense enough, but it quickly became clear that the real entertainment of the camp was Katie and Y/N’s constant bickering. It didn’t matter if they were running drills, passing the ball, or even just grabbing lunch—Katie and Y/N managed to turn every moment into an opportunity to one-up each other.

And their teammates were absolutely here for it.

The day started with a light warm-up, but the tension between Katie and Y/N was thick as ever. They were supposed to be practicing passing drills together, but within minutes, the shouting began.

“You call that a pass?” Katie sneered, catching the ball and immediately firing it back with unnecessary force. “I’ve seen toddlers with better control!”

Y/N scoffed as she trapped the ball. “If you’d stop kicking it like it’s a cannonball, maybe I wouldn’t have to adjust every time.”

Caitlin and Beth watched from the sidelines, exchanging amused glances.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Caitlin whispered, nudging Beth. “Ten quid says Y/N snaps first.”

Beth grinned. “I don’t know. Katie’s got that fiery look in her eyes today. I’d bet on her.”

Meanwhile, across the field, the argument had only escalated. Y/N rolled her eyes at Katie. “Maybe try aiming, McCabe. I’m not out here trying to dodge bullets.”

Katie shrugged with a smirk. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have signed up to play with the big leagues, princess.”

That was all Y/N needed. She fired the ball back at Katie’s feet with a little too much force, and it nearly tripped Katie, who barely managed to regain her footing. A few of the other players tried (and failed) to stifle their laughter.

Alessia, standing nearby with her hands on her knees, was practically in tears. “How long do you think they’re going to keep this up?”

Leah, leaning against the goalpost, chuckled. “With those two? At least another hour. Maybe all season.”

By lunchtime, Katie and Y/N had managed to argue about nearly every topic imaginable. As they filed into the dining hall, Y/N immediately rolled her eyes when she saw Katie heading for the same table.

“Oh, fantastic,” Y/N muttered. “There are about ten other tables here, but sure, sit right here.”

Katie plopped down across from her, eyes glinting mischievously. “What’s wrong, Y/N? Can’t handle sharing a table either?”

Y/N shot her a glare, stabbing her salad with extra vigor. “It’s just bad for digestion, you know? All this hostility.”

Katie laughed. “Maybe that’s your excuse for that horrible passing earlier.”

Caitlin nudged Leah as they sat nearby, enjoying their front-row seat to the show. “I swear, they’re like an old married couple,” she whispered, trying not to laugh too loudly.

Leah smirked. “Right? Just imagine if they actually liked each other. They’d be unstoppable.”

Across the table, the two rivals continued their snarky back-and-forth.

“You’ve got dressing all over your face,” Katie said, smirking as she pointed to Y/N’s cheek. “Or is that just part of the look?”

Y/N wiped her cheek with a napkin, scowling. “At least I don’t inhale my food like a barbarian.”

Katie rolled her eyes. “Barbarian? Just because I don’t nibble on my food like a rabbit doesn’t mean I’m a barbarian.”

Beth let out a loud snort, drawing both Katie’s and Y/N’s glares.

“Sorry,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender. “It’s just…this is the best free entertainment I’ve had in ages.”

The others at the table nodded in agreement, smirking as Katie and Y/N exchanged another round of withering looks.

As they all finished lunch and moved on to free time, the team decided to cool off by the pool. But even there, Katie and Y/N couldn’t seem to stay out of each other’s way.

As Y/N was leaning down to grab her water bottle by the poolside, Katie “accidentally” bumped into her, causing Y/N to stumble forward, nearly losing her balance.

Y/N whipped around, eyes narrowed. “Oh, that was subtle. Are you five?”

Katie shrugged, feigning innocence. “Sorry, didn’t see you there. You’re just kind of…in the way.”

Leah, lounging on a sunbed nearby, turned to Alessia with a grin. “You think if we lock them in a room, they’ll either end up being best friends or kill each other?”

Alessia laughed. “I’d bet on the killing.”

That night, back in their shared room, Katie and Y/N’s bickering reached new heights.

“I can’t believe I have to share a bathroom with you,” Y/N complained, huffing as she watched Katie brush her teeth.

Katie raised an eyebrow, not bothering to pause her brushing. “Believe me, I’m not thrilled either. You leave your stuff everywhere!”

“Oh, please,” Y/N shot back. “The only thing I’ve left out is a toothbrush, while you’ve somehow managed to scatter your entire life all over the place.”

Katie spit into the sink, wiping her mouth with a towel. “You’re dramatic, Y/L/N. Maybe if you could manage a little…organization?”

“Oh, now you’re giving me life advice?” Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes. “The last thing I need is tips from you.”

Beth, eavesdropping through the thin walls, laughed softly, turning to Leah in the room next door. “They’re still going at it.”

Leah shook her head, chuckling. “At this point, maybe we should let them keep fighting. I think it’s the most energy they’ve had all camp.”

Katie trudged back to her shared room with Y/N after an exhausting day of training. All she wanted was a hot shower and the blissful silence of some music in her headphones. But as she reached the door, Katie slowed down, hearing Y/N’s voice muffled through the wood.

It wasn’t unusual for Y/N to take phone calls; most of them seemed heated, muttered complaints or irritated sighs that Katie had learned to tune out. But this time, something was different. Y/N’s voice was low and…trembling?

Katie hesitated, hand on the doorknob. She could have walked away or given her roommate some space, but curiosity got the better of her.

“Look, I get it, okay?” Y/N’s voice cracked slightly, and Katie leaned closer, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. “You… you don’t have to make excuses. If you’re done, just say it.”

A thick silence hung in the air as Y/N listened to the voice on the other end, her breathing shaky.

“Right. Yeah, it’s probably for the best.” A forced laugh. “I mean, I’ll still see you around, yeah? At least we don’t have to make a scene about it.”

Katie felt a pang of guilt for listening in, but she couldn’t seem to tear herself away from the door. She heard the faint sound of a sigh, one that held both resignation and defeat.

“I just… I thought maybe this time it would work,” Y/N continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I guess I was wrong. Again.”

Another silence.

“No, don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” she said quickly, though her voice wavered. “It’s just… I mean, you could’ve told me sooner, you know? Instead of letting me hold on thinking…”

Katie’s brow furrowed, a strange ache forming in her chest as she listened to Y/N’s words. Y/N, the stubborn and fierce player she clashed with daily, sounded so small, so fragile.

“Right. Well… good luck with everything,” Y/N said, her tone hardening. “Goodbye, then.”

There was a soft click, and Katie heard Y/N let out a shaky breath, followed by the muffled sound of her trying to hold back tears. Katie swallowed, suddenly feeling like an intruder in her own room. But before she could figure out what to do, the door swung open, and there stood Y/N, her eyes red and rimmed with tears.

Katie froze, her usual witty remark caught in her throat as she registered the devastated look on Y/N’s face.

Y/N’s expression turned to one of horror and anger in equal measure. “Were you… listening?”

Katie opened her mouth to deny it, but no excuse came to mind. “I… I didn’t mean to, I just…” She stopped, realizing that anything she said would sound weak.

“Just what, Katie?” Y/N’s voice was tight with anger, but her red-rimmed eyes betrayed the vulnerability behind her words. “Eavesdropping for fun now?”

Katie’s defenses kicked in, feeling suddenly cornered by Y/N’s hurt. “Look, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, okay? I came back to the room and… I just heard you talking. I’m not some heartless creep.”

Y/N laughed bitterly, brushing past her and tossing her phone onto her bed. “Well, if you’re done with the free show, you can leave now.”

Katie hesitated, watching as Y/N crossed her arms and looked away, trying to hide the way her lip trembled.

“Y/N…” Katie said softly, but Y/N cut her off.

“Don’t,” Y/N snapped. “I don’t need your pity. I don’t need anything from you.”

Katie took a breath, swallowing the instinct to fight back. She remembered the conversation she’d overheard—the pain in Y/N’s voice, the vulnerable words that had cracked her usually unbreakable armor.

“Look,” Katie said, softening her tone. “I didn’t mean to intrude. And I’m… I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to have someone walk out on you.”

Y/N scoffed, clearly unimpressed, though the hurt was still evident on her face. “Oh, great, Katie McCabe is getting all sentimental now. Just what I needed.”

Katie clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to snap back. “You think I wanted to see this? That I wanted to hear it?”

Y/N glared, but her expression softened just a fraction, enough that Katie noticed. She took a hesitant step forward, her voice gentle.

“For what it’s worth, it sounds like you deserved a lot better than whoever that was,” Katie said.

Y/N’s shoulders dropped slightly, her eyes darting away. “It doesn’t matter now,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “She… she didn’t want this.”

Katie studied her for a moment, feeling a strange pull to offer something—anything—to take away the hurt in Y/N’s eyes.

“You know…” Katie began, shoving her hands in her pockets, “you don’t have to pretend you’re fine. Not with me.”

Y/N let out a humorless laugh, blinking quickly. “Right. Because we’re best friends now, is that it?”

Katie shrugged, feeling a tinge of awkwardness but pushing past it. “Maybe not best friends. But we’re teammates. And even if we don’t always see eye to eye… I wouldn’t want you to go through this alone.”

Y/N didn’t respond immediately, just stared at her with an unreadable expression. After a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice softer than before.

“Well… thanks, I guess,” Y/N mumbled, still avoiding Katie’s gaze. “But I’m fine. Really.”

Katie bit back a sigh, nodding as she made her way to her side of the room. She didn’t say anything else, sensing that Y/N wasn’t ready for any more sympathy. But as she lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, Katie couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d just seen a side of Y/N that no one else had.

And as much as she tried to ignore it, she couldn’t stop herself from feeling just a little bit protective.

It started with the water bottle.

Katie noticed it one morning at training. Y/N had been running late, clearly flustered and fumbling through her bag for her water bottle, only to come up empty-handed.

Katie had shrugged, grabbing her spare bottle and sliding it onto the bench beside Y/N’s stuff, just within reach. Y/N, too busy running drills, hadn’t even noticed when she came back for a quick drink, grabbing the bottle and taking a long gulp before heading back onto the field.

Katie rolled her eyes, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. Some gratitude.

But she couldn’t help herself. Over the next few days, Katie found herself picking up little habits to look out for Y/N, in ways so subtle even she didn’t notice at first.

It was as simple as setting a towel aside when Y/N forgot to bring one for cooldown. Or holding the door an extra second when she saw Y/N coming down the hall, still pulling her hair into a bun. Or making sure to hang back at dinner, subtly positioning herself between Y/N and some of the louder teammates whenever Y/N looked especially worn out.

The more Katie did it, the more she expected Y/N to notice. And each time Y/N passed her without so much as a glance, Katie felt a small sting of frustration.

One afternoon after practice, Y/N was struggling with the zipper on her duffel bag. It had been giving her trouble for days, and she kept muttering about needing to get it fixed.

Katie watched, casually leaning against the wall, as Y/N huffed and tried to yank the zipper free. It gave a metallic whine, refusing to budge.

Katie sighed, strolling over without a word. She knelt down and fiddled with the zipper for a moment, pressing her thumb just right to ease the snag. With a tug, it slid smoothly back into place.

“Oh,” Y/N said, glancing down at her now-functional zipper, then back up at Katie. “Thanks, I—” But she cut herself off, barely waiting for a nod from Katie before scooping up her bag and heading for the showers.

Katie watched her go, feeling a mix of annoyance and something strangely warmer, despite herself. Typical.

The next day, during scrimmage, Katie spotted Y/N wincing after a hard tackle. She wasn’t limping enough to stop, but Katie could tell her ankle was bothering her. Katie bit her lip, feeling her usual urge to call Y/N out on pushing through pain. Instead, she jogged over, staying close enough to offer support without being too obvious.

When they got a break, she made a detour to the medical kit, grabbing some extra ice packs and placing them discreetly on Y/N’s spot on the bench.

When Y/N finished her reps and slumped onto the bench, she picked up the ice packs and simply placed them over her ankle, not once questioning where they’d come from.

Katie shook her head with a chuckle. “Anytime,” she muttered to herself.

Later that week, during a team meeting, Katie noticed Y/N stifling a yawn and blinking rapidly, clearly struggling to keep her focus. She could tell Y/N had been staying up later than usual, maybe trying to brush off whatever was bothering her from the breakup.

The trainer’s voice droned on, and Katie waited until Y/N was busy with her notepad before she nudged her coffee closer to Y/N’s side of the table. Y/N glanced down, grabbed the mug absentmindedly, and took a long sip.

Katie waited for a glimmer of acknowledgment—a nod, maybe even a “thanks.” But Y/N just sipped the coffee and jotted down notes, her eyes still fixed on the front of the room.

Katie felt a small surge of irritation but forced herself to push it aside. Why am I even bothering?

Yet, despite her frustration, she found herself continuing with these tiny gestures. An extra granola bar left on Y/N’s seat before team meetings, an occasional shoulder check to steady her if she stumbled during drills, even switching spots with her in line to help her avoid the players she didn’t mesh well with.

Finally, after nearly two weeks of subtle attempts, Katie had reached her breaking point.

During one particularly long cooldown session, Katie found herself stretching next to Y/N. Y/N didn’t seem to notice her there, too focused on a knot in her calf muscle. Katie watched as she grimaced, clearly not getting anywhere with it.

Without thinking, Katie moved closer, reaching out to massage the muscle. “You know,” she said, her voice holding an edge of exasperation, “you could at least say ‘thank you’ once in a while.”

Y/N looked up, her brow furrowing. “What?”

Katie huffed. “You seriously haven’t noticed, have you?”

“Noticed what?” Y/N said, genuinely perplexed.

Katie shook her head, half-amused, half-irritated. “The water bottle? The extra ice packs? The coffee that you practically inhaled every team meeting?”

Y/N blinked, realization dawning slowly. Her mouth opened slightly, like she was about to say something, but then closed again. Her gaze dropped, and for the first time, she looked… apologetic.

“Oh,” she finally muttered, scratching the back of her head awkwardly. “I… didn’t know.”

Katie rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Of course you didn’t.”

Y/N laughed, a small, awkward sound. “Well… thanks. I mean, you didn’t have to do any of that.”

Katie shrugged, masking the warmth that flickered in her chest. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep you in line.”

Y/N smirked, her usual attitude returning. “Oh, is that what you’re doing? Babysitting me?”

“Just think of it as… charity work,” Katie shot back with a grin.

They both laughed, the tension between them dissipating, at least for the moment. And though Katie tried to play it cool, she couldn’t help feeling that maybe—just maybe—Y/N was starting to see her in a new light.

Katie hadn’t planned to tell anyone. But that afternoon, as she sat in the lounge with Beth, she couldn’t keep it in any longer. The Arsenal squad was in rare form, laughter echoing around the room as they wound down after another tough practice, and Y/N, as always, had been at the center of Katie’s attention.

Beth nudged her, eyes gleaming mischievously. “You’ve been staring at her all week, Katie. What’s going on?”

Katie hesitated, glancing around the room. Most of the team was busy in their own conversations, so she leaned in closer to Beth, muttering, “Okay, fine. But you cannot tell anyone. I… might like her.”

Beth’s eyes widened, a huge grin spreading across her face. “Oh. My. God.”

Katie shushed her quickly, cheeks blazing. “Quiet! I mean it, Beth. I didn’t even want to tell you, but… it’s just been eating me up. She doesn’t even notice half the things I do for her, and I can’t figure out if she hates me or if she’s just clueless.”

Beth stifled a laugh, bouncing on her toes with excitement. “Katie, that’s huge! Why haven’t you told her?”

Katie sighed, shrugging. “I don’t even know if she likes me back. I mean, she barely notices anything I do—she probably thinks I’m just being a decent teammate.”

Beth shook her head. “Katie, you’re doing all these things for her! Trust me, she has to have noticed something by now.”

Katie smiled, shaking her head. “Yeah, well, don’t get your hopes up. This is between you and me, got it?”

Beth nodded, miming zipping her lips. “My lips are sealed.”

But Beth’s “sealed lips” didn’t last very long.

Only a few minutes later, Beth noticed Leah, Viv, and several other teammates standing around the table. The temptation was too much for her, and before she could stop herself, she burst out, “Katie just told me she likes Y/N!”

The room fell into a stunned silence.

Katie’s eyes went wide, her face flushing a bright red. “Beth! Are you serious?” she practically hissed, mortified.

But it was too late. Leah’s face lit up with a teasing grin, Viv stifled a laugh, and soon enough, the entire room erupted with whispers and giggles.

Katie felt her heart pounding. She couldn’t bear to stay there a second longer. Without a word, she stood up, gave Beth an incredulous glare, and marched out of the room, ignoring the amused looks from her teammates.

Katie headed outside, needing air. She leaned against the wall, letting the cool breeze calm her as she took deep breaths, trying to settle her nerves. How could Beth just blurt it out like that? she fumed internally, running a hand over her face.

She didn’t expect anyone to follow her, let alone Y/N.

“Katie?”

Katie froze, her heart skipping a beat as she turned to see Y/N standing a few steps away, her expression a mix of confusion and… something else Katie couldn’t quite read.

Y/N stepped closer, her voice soft. “Did… did Beth mean what she said in there?”

Katie took a breath, her heart racing as she nodded. “Yeah. She wasn’t supposed to say anything, though. I didn’t even know if you’d feel the same way, and now the entire team knows, so if this is weird for you—”

Y/N cut her off with a quiet laugh. “Katie, it’s not weird. Actually… I’ve been wanting to tell you something too.”

Katie’s eyes widened, her heart pounding as Y/N closed the gap between them.

“I didn’t realize it at first,” Y/N began, looking down, cheeks tinged with a soft blush. “But over these past few weeks… you’ve been doing all these little things. Looking out for me in ways no one else does, even when I’m too dense to see it. And I guess… I’ve kind of been waiting for you to say something.” She paused, biting her lip nervously. “I like you too, Katie.”

Katie blinked, almost unable to believe her ears. “You… you do?”

Y/N nodded, smiling a little. “Yeah, I do. Even though we were at each other’s throats when I first joined, I think I just tried to deny what I was feeling. But… the way you’ve looked out for me, Katie, it’s hard not to feel something.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of their confessions hanging in the air between them. Then, Katie finally let out a small, relieved laugh. “I was terrified you’d laugh in my face.”

Y/N grinned, taking a small step closer until they were just inches apart. “Oh, I’m laughing, just not in the way you thought.”

With that, Y/N reached for Katie’s hand, intertwining their fingers. Katie felt her heart leap, the warmth of Y/N’s hand grounding her, making all the embarrassment from earlier disappear.

Inside, the team was still chattering excitedly, clearly wondering what was going on. But as Katie looked into Y/N’s eyes, she found she didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was right here in front of her.

Y/N squeezed her hand, giving her a playful smirk. “Now, what do you say we head back in there and let them have their fun?”

Katie laughed, shaking her head. “Fine, but if they start planning our wedding, I’m holding you accountable.”

Y/N grinned, tugging her hand gently as they turned to head back inside, this time together, ready to face the team—and whatever teasing awaited them—with their newfound feelings finally out in the open.

Katie and Y/N paused just outside the team lounge, exchanging sly looks. The buzz of conversation inside was unmistakable; their teammates were clearly still talking about Beth’s big reveal.

Katie raised an eyebrow. “So, what do you say we make them sweat a bit?”

Y/N smirked. “I’m in. Let’s give them a little show.”

With that, the two of them arranged their faces into tense expressions, putting on their best fake scowls before stepping back into the room.

As soon as they entered, the chatter quieted, and all eyes turned to them. Katie glanced at Y/N with an exaggerated look of disdain.

“You know what, Y/N? I don’t know why I even bothered!” Katie said loudly, throwing her hands up. “Trying to be nice, trying to get along… I’m done with it.”

Y/N crossed her arms, glaring right back. “Oh, you’re done? Trust me, Katie, I’m the one who’s done. You don’t make anything easy, do you?”

Their teammates exchanged wide-eyed looks, glancing at each other nervously. Leah, who had been watching with an expectant grin just moments before, now looked on in alarm.

“Uh… guys?” Beth said hesitantly, guilt creeping into her voice. “This wasn’t… I didn’t mean for you two to—”

Katie cut her off, waving a hand. “You know what, Beth? Maybe next time, don’t go blabbing about things that aren’t your business.”

Beth’s mouth dropped open, her face a mix of shock and regret. Leah stepped forward, trying to smooth things over. “Hey, maybe we can all just, uh, talk this out?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Katie and I don’t need to talk it out, Leah. Maybe everyone just needs to mind their own business.”

Viv and Alessia looked around nervously, while Beth buried her face in her hands, clearly mortified.

Katie shot Y/N a quick, barely perceptible wink. “You know what, Y/N? I’d say you’re insufferable, but I think that’s what I’m starting to—”

“Love about you,” Y/N finished, barely able to keep a straight face as she leaned toward Katie with a smirk.

The whole team froze, blinking in confusion as they processed what they’d just heard. It took only a beat before Y/N and Katie broke into laughter, dropping their ‘argument’ and looking around at their stunned teammates.

Katie grinned, finally breaking character. “Honestly, the lot of you are terrible at keeping secrets. Who does Beth blurt my business to the second she hears it?”

Beth’s face went from horror to relief as she realized they’d been messing with her. “Oh, come on! I just—well, it’s your fault, Katie! You’re the one who’s been acting all lovesick and obvious.”

Leah crossed her arms, trying to look stern but failing to hide her grin. “So, all this fighting was just to get back at us for meddling?”

Y/N shrugged, trying to keep a straight face as she raised an eyebrow. “What can we say? This is what happens when people get nosy.”

Alessia let out a dramatic sigh of relief, clutching her chest. “Honestly, I thought you were about to rip each other’s heads off. That was terrifying!”

Viv laughed, shaking her head. “Katie, you and Y/N put on quite the performance.”

Katie chuckled, leaning back against the wall. “Glad you all enjoyed the show. But seriously, maybe next time let me handle my own feelings, yeah?”

Y/N joined her, their hands brushing together subtly as she added, “Yeah. We don’t need the whole squad poking around in our business.”

Beth raised her hands in surrender, laughing. “Alright, fine, we’ll leave you two alone… for now. But I make no promises if you keep acting so obvious!”

Katie smirked, glancing sideways at Y/N. “Well, then, it looks like we’ll have to give you even more to talk about, won’t we?”

The team groaned, but the laughter filled the room once more, and Katie and Y/N couldn’t help but share a quiet smile. Their secret was out, but they couldn’t have cared less. They had each other’s backs—and they’d gotten a good laugh at everyone’s expense in the process.

It had only been a few months since Katie and Y/N had made things official, but to the rest of the Arsenal squad, it felt like they'd been together forever. The two of them were always bickering over the most trivial things, and yet, anyone could see they were absolutely smitten.

This morning, their “married couple” energy was on full display.

As the team gathered for breakfast at the training camp, Katie spotted Y/N piling her plate with pancakes and shook her head in disbelief.

“Seriously, Y/N?” Katie huffed, grabbing the last banana from the fruit bowl. “Do you ever think of eating something healthy?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, sprinkling powdered sugar on her stack with a flourish. “Relax, Katie, it’s not like I’m eating this every day.” She took a big bite and chewed dramatically, as if daring Katie to say something else.

Katie squinted at her. “You say that, but I’ve seen you at every team breakfast loading up on pancakes like they’re going out of style.”

Y/N shrugged, unbothered. “I need my fuel to keep up with you, don’t I?”

Beth, sitting across from them, tried to hide a laugh behind her coffee cup. Leah, on her right, leaned over, whispering loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Are we sure they’re not already married?”

Katie shot Leah a mock glare. “Oh, don’t start, Williamson. You should be grateful I’m trying to keep her in check!”

Y/N scoffed, reaching over to grab a bit of fruit from Katie’s plate. “I think we both know you’re more high-maintenance than me, Katie.”

Katie smacked her hand away, giving her a playful glare. “Get your own fruit!”

Viv, sipping her tea nearby, raised an eyebrow. “This is seriously like watching my parents fight,” she said, shaking her head with an amused smile.

Katie and Y/N both shot her glares, in perfect sync. “Excuse me?” they said in unison, which only made the team laugh even harder.

Rolling her eyes, Katie sighed dramatically. “Alright, fine. Go ahead, eat all the pancakes. But don’t come crying to me when you’re too sluggish to keep up in training.”

Y/N put her hand over her heart, feigning offense. “I would never blame you for my poor training performance, darling.” She winked, causing Katie to flush just a little as the team watched with knowing grins.

Beth nudged Leah, barely able to contain her laughter. “This is top-tier entertainment.”

After breakfast, the team gathered for a light warm-up, and Y/N, still high on carbs and a little bit of mischief, kept tripping Katie up by tapping her ankles or nudging her playfully whenever Katie wasn’t looking.

“Will you stop it?” Katie snapped, swatting Y/N’s hand away for the third time. “You’re like a child.”

“Oh, come on, you love it.” Y/N smirked, running ahead to avoid Katie’s inevitable comeback. Katie shook her head, unable to hide the smile tugging at her lips.

Later, during a water break, Y/N handed Katie her water bottle, and Katie took it, squinting at her suspiciously. “Why are you being nice all of a sudden?”

Y/N shrugged innocently. “Can’t a girl do something nice for her girlfriend without being accused of having ulterior motives?”

Katie narrowed her eyes, then reluctantly took a sip. “Fine. Thanks, I guess.”

Just as she was about to take another drink, Y/N added, “By the way, I might have accidentally taken a sip out of that earlier.”

Katie’s eyes widened, looking at the bottle with mock horror. “Oh, you’re disgusting.”

Y/N gave her a cheeky grin. “You’re just figuring this out now?”

They continued their playful back-and-forth as the training session wound down, and their teammates could only shake their heads, thoroughly entertained. By now, it was a given: if Y/N and Katie were in the room, a bit of banter was sure to follow.

As they walked back to the locker room, Katie nudged Y/N, speaking just loud enough for only her to hear. “You’re lucky I love you, you know that?”

Y/N grinned, sliding an arm around her shoulders. “Oh, trust me, I know. And I love you too, even when you steal all the bananas.”

Katie scoffed but leaned into her, their usual bickering temporarily replaced by a comfortable silence.

From behind them, Leah whispered to Viv, “I swear, they’re like an old married couple.”

And for once, neither Y/N nor Katie could argue with that.

The Arsenal squad had been dropping hints all week, not-so-subtly trying to convince either Katie or Y/N to take their relationship to the next level. With every passing day, the nudges and winks became more obvious.

During a team meeting, Leah leaned over to Y/N and whispered, “So, when are you finally going to propose? Don’t you think it’s about time?”

Beth joined in, nudging Katie. “You’re both head over heels. One of you has to pop the question sometime.”

Katie and Y/N exchanged a quick look, and that was all it took for them to come up with the perfect plan. If their teammates wanted drama, well, they’d get some—but not in the way they expected.

That Friday, right after training, the team was lounging in the common room, chatting away. Katie and Y/N entered the room together, but the air between them felt… tense. They both wore exaggerated frowns, and the whole squad quickly sensed that something was off.

Katie sighed loudly, folding her arms as she glanced around the room. “You know what, Y/N? I think we need to talk.”

Y/N crossed her arms as well, turning to face Katie with an indignant glare. “Oh, I’m the one who’s difficult? Right, because it’s never you, Katie.”

Their teammates immediately exchanged panicked glances, sensing trouble. Viv’s mouth dropped open slightly, and Leah subtly motioned for everyone to keep quiet.

Katie sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, I don’t think I can deal with this anymore.”

“Oh, I don’t think I can deal with you anymore!” Y/N shot back, her voice getting louder. She placed her hands on her hips and turned to the team. “Can you all believe this? She thinks she can just tell me what to do like I’m some rookie!”

Beth’s eyes widened in horror as she looked at the others, mouthing, “What did we do?”

Leah, clearly caught between intervening and staying out of it, held up her hands. “Hey, guys… maybe we can talk this out? I mean, no need to… break up or anything.”

Katie scoffed. “Why not, Leah? Maybe it’s exactly what we need. It’s not like she listens to me anyway!”

Y/N threw her hands in the air, her voice tinged with mock hurt. “Fine, Katie! If that’s how you feel, maybe we’re just better off apart!”

The whole room fell into a stunned silence. Alessia looked horrified, Beth looked guilty, and Viv was on the verge of intervening. Just as they were about to step in, Y/N turned her back to Katie, but not before giving her a tiny, knowing smirk.

Katie matched her smirk and kept her voice stern. “Fine. Then let’s be done with it.”

At that, the team could no longer hold back.

Beth jumped up, wide-eyed. “No, no, no, don’t do this! This is all our fault. We pushed you two too hard!”

Leah held her hands out pleadingly. “We’re sorry! You two are great together. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

Katie and Y/N shared a quick glance, barely containing their laughter. But they kept up the act a little longer.

Y/N shook her head, turning toward the door. “Maybe if everyone minded their own business, we wouldn’t be here.”

Alessia let out a desperate sigh, looking at them with puppy-dog eyes. “Please, just… don’t break up because of us. You two are like… Arsenal’s power couple!”

Finally, Katie and Y/N couldn’t hold it in anymore. They both burst into laughter, clutching their stomachs as they doubled over. The rest of the team looked on, baffled.

Y/N, still giggling, looked up at them and said, “Relax, we’re not actually breaking up.”

Katie wiped a fake tear from her eye. “But maybe you all should consider giving us some space before you end up with real relationship drama!”

The realization dawned on them, and the team’s horrified expressions turned to annoyed glares.

Beth threw a pillow at them. “You two are the worst! Do you know how much we panicked?”

Leah shook her head, laughing despite herself. “Honestly, I’ve never been so terrified. Thought you two were about to kill each other!”

Y/N grinned, wrapping an arm around Katie. “See, maybe this is a lesson. Next time, stay out of our business, alright?”

Katie gave Y/N a wink. “Or we might have to pull something even bigger on you lot.”

Viv crossed her arms, her lips quirked in amusement. “Duly noted. Maybe we’ll just let you propose when you’re ready.”

Katie and Y/N exchanged a secret smile, knowing that their real proposal would happen when they were ready—not a moment before. And for now, they were more than happy to keep their teammates on their toes.

It was a crisp autumn day at Arsenal's training ground, the air buzzing with anticipation. It had been exactly a year since Katie and Y/N’s infamous “breakup” prank, and Katie had been quietly planning a real surprise that would catch everyone off guard: a proposal. But, naturally, she couldn’t do it without one last prank.

The plan was simple: after a light morning training, Katie would gather everyone, fake a “heated argument” with Y/N, and then propose right when things seemed tense enough. With the ring already secured, she felt confident it would be a day no one would forget.

Training went smoothly until Katie called everyone over during the warm-down. Y/N, feigning confusion, trailed behind the team, giving Katie a questioning look as she shot her a conspiratorial wink.

“All of you, come here!” Katie called, looking as serious as possible, her tone carrying an edge that made everyone straighten up.

The team gathered around, exchanging wary glances. Leah raised an eyebrow, sensing something was off. “Katie, what’s going on?”

Katie crossed her arms, putting on her best frown. “I’ve had enough,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Y/N widened her eyes in mock alarm, playing her role perfectly. “Excuse me? You’ve had enough?”

Katie jabbed a finger in Y/N’s direction. “You never listen, Y/N! I can’t deal with this anymore.”

Beth’s eyes went wide as she exchanged a look with Viv, who mouthed, “Not again…”

Y/N crossed her arms and threw her head back. “You’re really doing this now, Katie? Here, in front of everyone?”

Katie clenched her fists, doing her best to look frustrated. “Yes, right now. Because apparently, nothing gets through to you otherwise!”

Leah stepped forward, looking horrified. “Guys… please, don’t do this again.”

Katie glared at Leah, not breaking character. “Stay out of this, Leah. This is between me and Y/N.”

Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Fine, then. Say what you have to say.”

The tension was thick, and the entire squad looked on, barely breathing. Alessia clutched Beth’s arm, her voice barely a whisper. “Are they seriously breaking up again?”

Just as the tension seemed unbearable, Katie sighed deeply and reached into her pocket. “You know what, Y/N? There’s only one thing I have left to say to you.”

Katie took a deep breath, pulled out the small black box, and dropped to one knee. The entire team gasped, jaws dropping in unison as realization hit them.

Katie looked up at Y/N, her eyes softening. “Y/N, you’re my everything. I love you more than I can even say. I’m done pretending, done pranking—well, after this one, anyway.” She chuckled softly. “Will you marry me?”

Y/N’s jaw dropped, her eyes wide as she took in the ring in Katie’s hands. Then, after a beat, she broke into a wide grin and nodded, letting a few tears fall. “Yes, Katie, of course!”

The team erupted in cheers, jumping and hugging each other in excitement and relief. Beth clapped her hands together, looking overjoyed. “Oh my god, this is amazing! Finally!”

Leah had tears in her eyes. “Katie McCabe, you scared us half to death again. But this time… I guess we can forgive you.”

Katie, still on her knee, shot them a mischievous grin as she slid the ring onto Y/N’s finger. “Didn’t think I’d let this go down without a bit of drama, did you?”

Y/N laughed, pulling her fiancée up into a tight hug. “You’re an absolute menace, you know that?”

Katie smirked, pressing a quick kiss to Y/N’s lips. “You love it.”

The team huddled around, bombarding them with hugs, questions, and a few well-deserved playful shoves. Viv crossed her arms, feigning annoyance but with a huge grin on her face. “You two need to stop toying with us!”

Beth wiped a tear away, grinning. “You’re officially banned from pranks after this. Next time, just get married in private and save us the heart attacks!”

Katie laughed, holding Y/N’s hand and looking around at her teammates—her family. “Alright, alright, no more pranks. But now you all owe us a huge celebration.”

And as the room filled with laughter, cheers, and a few well-placed jokes about “prank-ception,” Katie and Y/N shared a look, feeling incredibly lucky to be surrounded by the people who loved them, ready for this next chapter together.

It had been a few weeks since Katie’s dramatic proposal, and things had finally settled down. Y/N wore her engagement ring with pride, and Katie seemed to love showing off her fiancée at every opportunity. But Y/N couldn’t help but think that maybe Katie deserved a little payback for all the times she’d pulled off elaborate pranks over the last year. So, Y/N hatched a plan of her own.

On a sunny Thursday morning, Y/N decided to start her prank. She went about her morning as usual, chatting with Katie and joking around as they got ready for training—but she purposely left her engagement ring on the dresser. Katie didn’t seem to notice at first, so Y/N held back a smirk as she joined her fiancée in the kitchen for breakfast, acting like nothing was amiss.

Katie, completely oblivious, handed Y/N her coffee and started talking about the team’s drills for the day. Y/N kept the conversation going, waiting for Katie to catch on, but Katie remained oblivious until they arrived at training.

In the locker room, Y/N made sure to keep her hands visible as she changed, hoping one of the girls would notice first. She could see Katie a few lockers over, chatting with Beth and Leah, so she subtly flashed her left hand to Viv, who immediately noticed.

“Y/N… where’s your ring?” Viv asked with a surprised look.

Katie’s head whipped around so fast it could have caused whiplash. She immediately zeroed in on Y/N’s bare finger, her eyes narrowing.

Y/N feigned a casual shrug. “Oh, must’ve forgotten it this morning.”

Katie’s face fell, clearly caught off guard. “Forgotten it? How do you… forget it?”

Y/N kept a straight face, casually slipping her socks on. “I don’t know, Katie. Just did.”

Katie stared at her, brow furrowing, clearly perturbed. “Didn’t think it was something you’d forget,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

Beth and Leah exchanged amused looks, sensing the tension. Leah, never one to resist poking the bear, gave Y/N an exaggerated gasp. “Y/N, isn’t that ring, like, supposed to be your most prized possession?”

Y/N bit back a grin, shrugging as nonchalantly as possible. “I mean, it’s important, sure, but people forget things, right? Just a ring.”

Katie’s mouth dropped open. “Just a ring?!” she repeated, louder than she meant to. “You do know I picked it out especially for you, right?”

Y/N gave her an innocent look. “Of course I know, babe,” she said sweetly. “I’ll just… wear it tomorrow, okay?”

Katie’s face went through a rapid cycle of emotions—disbelief, annoyance, and, finally, resignation as she turned to Beth. “Can you believe this? I spent weeks picking that ring out, and she just forgets it.”

Beth, barely able to keep from laughing, put a sympathetic hand on Katie’s shoulder. “Hey, maybe she just needs some time to get used to it.”

Katie looked back at Y/N, an incredulous expression on her face. “Are you serious, Y/N?”

Y/N stifled her laughter, holding Katie’s gaze. “What? I’m dead serious. It’s not a big deal. I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

Katie huffed, mumbling under her breath, “If I’d known you’d be this casual about it…”

The rest of training was filled with Katie throwing occasional glances Y/N’s way, muttering to herself whenever she saw that bare finger. The team, now fully aware of what was going on, watched with barely concealed amusement. Katie was wound up, and Y/N could tell she was doing everything she could not to bring it up again in front of the team.

After training, as they headed back to the locker room, Katie finally pulled Y/N aside, her voice low and urgent.

“Alright, what’s going on, Y/N? Are you… are you having second thoughts?”

Y/N’s eyes widened, and she could see genuine worry in Katie’s gaze. Immediately, she softened, realizing she might have taken the prank a little too far. But the teasing part of her couldn’t resist one last push.

“Second thoughts?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe about who’s better at pranks…”

Katie blinked, processing what Y/N had just said, then narrowed her eyes, realization dawning. “You… you’re pranking me?!”

Y/N laughed, reaching out to take Katie’s hand. “Guilty. Thought you could use a taste of your own medicine. Didn’t like thinking I’d forgotten the ring, did you?”

Katie’s face turned from annoyance to a playful smirk. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

Y/N grinned, pulling her fiancée close. “That’s why you love me.”

Katie sighed, rolling her eyes with a reluctant smile. “Fine, fine. But don’t ever forget that ring again—or I’ll find a way to make you pay for it.”

Y/N laughed, bringing her hand up to show the ring she’d stashed in her pocket the whole time. “I could never actually forget it. Just needed to remind you that I can keep up with your pranks any day.”

Katie leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “Noted. But next time, just wear the ring. I like showing off my fiancée.”

As they headed back to the team, hand in hand, they could hear the cheers and applause of their meddlesome teammates, who’d been watching the entire exchange. Katie just rolled her eyes, but Y/N squeezed her hand, grateful for every second of their ridiculous love.

A quiet evening had settled over London, and for the first time in what felt like ages, Katie and Y/N had the night all to themselves. No pranks, no training early in the morning—just the two of them, sprawled out on the couch, a bottle of wine between them, with an old movie neither of them was paying much attention to playing softly in the background.

Y/N swirled her wine glass and leaned back, a lazy smile on her face. "Remember when you hated me? How I 'ruined' every Arsenal training session?"

Katie snorted, nearly spilling her wine as she nudged Y/N with her shoulder. "Correction: you ruined my training sessions. And yes, I remember. Loud and clear."

Y/N rolled her eyes, chuckling. "The first time we trained together, you went for my ankles like I’d stolen your dog."

Katie threw her head back laughing. “You’re not far off. In my defense, you were showing off a Northern Ireland crest tattoo , and I was not ready to see that at my club.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “And that justified tripping me every five minutes?”

Katie smirked, leaning a little closer. “You kept saying you’d 'walk right back to Ireland' if I tripped you one more time. I was just… testing your resolve.”

Y/N let out a fake gasp, pressing a hand to her chest. "Oh, so you were helping me develop mental toughness?”

Katie grinned. "Exactly. You should be thanking me."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “You were ruthless, McCabe. Always muttering something under your breath. I thought you’d genuinely curse me every time I touched the ball.”

Katie shot her a playful glare. “Oh, believe me, I was close. I couldn’t stand seeing you on the pitch. And you didn’t make it easy with your cheeky little comments about the ‘inferior side’ either.”

Y/N snickered, taking a sip of her wine. “I don’t know why I did that, honestly. Probably because of the look on your face every time. It was priceless.”

Katie rolled her eyes, but her expression softened as she looked over at Y/N. “The thing is… somewhere along the way, I kinda started to look forward to those arguments. It was the highlight of my day. Even if it drove me mad.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes warm as she studied Katie’s face. “Me too. I never thought I’d actually like you, let alone… you know, love you.”

Katie softened, a little smile tugging at her lips. “You’re pretty impossible not to love.”

Y/N’s smile grew wider, and she nudged Katie’s leg with her foot. “Careful, you’re getting sentimental on me.”

Katie laughed, leaning into her fiancée’s shoulder. “Fine, no more mushy talk. But I’m glad we got past all that rivalry stuff. I couldn’t imagine my life without you now.”

They both fell silent, their gazes drifting to the city lights through the window. After a moment, Katie broke the quiet.

“Do you think we’d still hate each other if we played on different teams?”

Y/N pondered it, tapping her fingers on her glass thoughtfully. “Probably. But I’d also be wondering what you were up to, wondering if you’d still get all mad whenever I got near the goal.”

Katie chuckled, shaking her head. “Knowing us, we’d probably be rivals forever, but the kind that secretly roots for each other.”

They both smiled at the thought, and Katie leaned closer, resting her head against Y/N’s shoulder, intertwining their fingers. The silence between them wasn’t awkward; it was comfortable, the kind of peace that comes when you’ve been through enough ups and downs together to appreciate the simple moments.

Katie eventually broke the silence again, her voice a soft murmur. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

Y/N gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “We really have.”

For a while, they just sat there, sharing the quiet, letting the past fade as they enjoyed the present, right where they were supposed to be—together.

The stadium was buzzing as the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland lined up across from each other. The energy was electric, and the fans were on their feet, ready for an intense ninety minutes of international rivalry. But neither team was as fired up as Katie and Y/N.

Katie met Y/N’s gaze from across the pitch, her eyes narrowed with a fierce, competitive glint. Y/N shot her a smirk, giving a small, taunting wave. Katie rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the tiny smile tugging at her lips.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Katie muttered as she jogged past Y/N in warm-ups, a hint of playfulness in her voice. “We’re taking you down today.”

Y/N snorted, tilting her head. “Good luck with that, McCabe. Northern Ireland’s ready for anything you throw at us.”

The game kicked off with both teams giving their all, and Katie and Y/N held nothing back. The crowd watched in awe as Katie, with her usual intensity, threw herself into tackles and pushed her team forward at every opportunity. Y/N matched her, intercepting passes, making blocks, and turning every corner into a chance to push Northern Ireland on the offensive.

There was a moment in the first half when they clashed, literally. Katie went for a sliding tackle, and Y/N dodged it just in time, but the two ended up shoulder to shoulder, glaring at each other with intense, unwavering stares.

Katie huffed out a laugh, her voice just low enough for Y/N to hear, “You’re not getting past me, Y/N.”

Y/N smirked, leaning in just a bit. “We’ll see, Katie. You’re not as tough as you think.”

Katie’s eyes narrowed, and for the briefest moment, Y/N thought she saw a twinkle of amusement there. “Keep dreaming, Y/L/N,” Katie shot back before sprinting after the ball.

As the game wore on, Northern Ireland managed to secure a goal, and the crowd went wild. Y/N, barely containing her excitement, ran back down the pitch, purposefully catching Katie’s eye with a smirk. Katie clenched her fists, determination blazing, and pushed her team even harder.

In the final minutes, with both sides exhausted, Katie got the ball in midfield and went on a run, weaving past Y/N and narrowly missing a goal with a powerful shot that hit the crossbar. Y/N bit back a sigh of relief as the whistle finally blew, signaling the end of the match.

Northern Ireland had won.

Katie, catching her breath, stayed on her side of the pitch, hands on her hips, looking frustrated but undeniably proud. Y/N jogged over to her, eyes gleaming as she slowed down right in front of Katie.

“Guess the best team won, huh?” Y/N teased, her smile mischievous.

Katie rolled her eyes, trying to hold back a grin. “Don’t start, Y/N. We’ll get you next time.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning in closer. “You sure about that? Looked like your team was working pretty hard to keep up.”

Katie huffed, crossing her arms in mock annoyance. “You’re lucky we’re off the pitch right now, or I’d wipe that smirk off your face.”

Y/N chuckled, stepping even closer until there was barely any space between them. “Oh, would you now? Guess we’ll never know.” Her voice softened as she nudged Katie’s shoulder, eyes softening as she spoke. “You played amazing, Katie. I mean it.”

Katie’s faux-scowl melted as she looked back at Y/N, a smile breaking through. “You too, babe. Guess we really do bring out the best in each other, huh?”

Y/N nodded, her heart swelling. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching and then quickly pulled Katie into a hug, burying her face in Katie’s shoulder for a brief moment. Katie hugged her back just as tightly, whispering, “I love you, but I’m still mad you won.”

Y/N laughed, pulling back with a grin. “You’ll survive. And besides, this just means I get bragging rights all month.”

Katie groaned, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her smile. “Fine, fine. But don’t get too used to it.”

They exchanged one last look before heading back to their respective teams, but both knew they’d be right back in each other’s arms as soon as they could slip away.

Back at the hotel that night, after a post-match dinner and some inevitable teasing from teammates, Y/N finally managed to catch Katie alone in the hallway. Katie smirked as soon as she saw her, folding her arms.

“Don’t think this means I’m letting you off easy. You might’ve won today, but I’ll be back,” Katie said, trying to keep her tone serious but failing to hide the sparkle in her eyes.

Y/N grinned, stepping close and resting her hand on Katie’s arm. “I’m looking forward to it, McCabe. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Katie gave her a teasing glare. “Just you wait, Y/L/N. Next time, it’ll be me teasing you.”

Y/N laughed, pressing a quick kiss to Katie’s cheek before pulling her into a hug. “Bring it on. But until then, you’ll just have to deal with the fact that I’m the winner.”

Katie groaned but hugged her tighter. “Yeah, yeah. Enjoy it while it lasts, Y/N. I’m coming for that win next time.”

They held each other close, the rivalry left on the field as they enjoyed the comfort of each other’s arms. All the banter, all the competition—it only made this moment feel even sweeter.

Three years had flown by, and Y/N and Katie’s lives had changed in ways they’d once only imagined. Now, not only were they partners in life and still teammates on Arsenal’s pitch, but they had a little girl, Ava, who had quickly become the light of their lives. With Katie’s fiery attitude and Y/N’s quiet determination, Ava had inherited quite the personality—and a strong set of lungs to match.

The whole team had gathered at the park for an impromptu picnic. As Ava toddled around, squealing in delight as she chased the team’s soccer balls, Katie and Y/N watched on with quiet smiles, occasionally casting each other amused glances.

Leah, watching Ava attempt to kick a ball with all her might (and only managing to send it rolling gently forward), chuckled and leaned over to Katie with a smirk. “So…have you two decided yet?” she asked mischievously.

Katie squinted at her, confused. “Decided what?”

Leah tilted her head toward Ava, grinning. “Which team Ava’s going to support, Republic of Ireland or Northern Ireland?”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes. “Oh, don’t get her started, Leah. She’s already making plans.”

Katie nudged Y/N, giving her a mock glare. “Oi, plans? She’s obviously going to support Ireland—my Ireland.”

“Oh really?” Y/N shot back, folding her arms, a playful challenge in her eyes. “She’s as much my daughter as yours, Katie. Northern Ireland’s got plenty to offer.”

Katie scoffed, placing her hands on her hips. “Name one thing Northern Ireland’s got that beats a Republic of Ireland jersey with ‘McCabe’ on the back.”

Y/N grinned. “How about an NI jersey with Y/L/N on it?” She glanced over to see Ava waving the soccer ball at Leah, who was playing along by dramatically pretending she couldn’t catch it. “See? She’s already got Leah wrapped around her finger. An arsenal fan, through and through at least.”

Katie gasped in mock offense, clutching her chest. “Leah, you traitor!”

Leah shrugged, holding back laughter. “Hey, don’t drag me into this! Besides,” she teased, winking at Katie, “everyone knows I’m Ava’s favorite. So, maybe she’ll grow up as a Lioness.”

Katie rolled her eyes. “Lioness? Not a chance. You’ll see—first time she sees her mama in green, she’ll be cheering with pride.” She reached over and scooped Ava up, spinning her around, and Ava squealed with delight. “Right, Ava? You’ll wear green like your mama, won’t you?”

Ava’s tiny fists pumped into the air as she babbled excitedly, though neither Katie nor Y/N could make out a single word. But Ava’s enthusiasm was enough to make Katie beam, certain she’d just gotten the confirmation she wanted.

Y/N laughed, crossing her arms and shaking her head. “We’ll see about that, Katie. I’ve got time to win her over.”

Katie turned back, smirking. “Oh, it’s on, Y/L/N. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you’re dealing with a McCabe superfan in a few years.”

The two shared a laugh, but as Katie pulled Y/N in close, their teasing faded into warm smiles. Ava squirmed between them, clearly ready to return to her soccer ball, and Katie set her down with a grin. They watched Ava charge toward Leah, babbling in her own language as she went, and Katie squeezed Y/N’s hand.

“Guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” Katie murmured, her voice soft and full of affection.

Y/N leaned her head against Katie’s shoulder, eyes on their little girl. “Yeah, but whatever team she ends up cheering for, she’ll always be our little star.”

Katie nodded, resting her head against Y/N’s. “Our little Ava—future football legend, no matter the color.”

As Ava squealed with joy, Leah joined the couple, shaking her head in amusement. “I’ll say this, though—Ava’s got the luckiest parents in the world. And if we’re being honest,” she added with a grin, “she’s going to be one heck of a player no matter which team she roots for.”

Katie and Y/N exchanged a proud smile, both knowing that Leah was absolutely right. Their daughter was already shaping up to be just as fierce and full of heart as her mothers.

Seventeen years had passed, and the day Y/N and Katie had always joked about—but secretly dreaded—had finally arrived. Their daughter, Ava, now a young football sensation in her own right, was making her England debut. England. Of all teams. She was a Lioness.

As the stadium buzzed with excitement, Katie sat grumbling in the stands, arms folded across her chest. Y/N was next to her, frowning at the England flag waving on the big screen as it showcased Ava’s name. Meanwhile, Leah, sitting on the other side of Y/N, was practically bouncing with pride, her England scarf wrapped around her shoulders.

Katie leaned toward Y/N, muttering in a voice loud enough for Leah to hear, “Unbelievable. How did we let this happen?”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head. “Years of her godmother whispering in her ear, that’s how.”

Leah laughed, unfazed by their grumbling. “Oh, come on, you two! You can’t deny she’s right where she belongs.”

Katie scoffed, her arms still crossed tightly. “I can’t believe I’m about to cheer for England. My own daughter… in a white jersey!”

Leah rolled her eyes, turning to Y/N. “Come on, back me up here, Y/N. You’ve been through her endless debating, the sleepless nights before choosing. You know she loves this team.”

Y/N groaned, torn between her pride for Ava and her allegiance to her own roots. “I know, I know. But it’s still surreal, Leah. Our little Ava could’ve chosen any team.”

Katie shot Y/N a look, nodding in agreement. “Exactly. Republic of Ireland was right there.”

Leah laughed again, shaking her head. “Oh, come on. We all knew from the time she was little that she’d choose England. I mean, look at her godmother.” She winked and pointed proudly to herself, her England scarf gleaming under the stadium lights.

Katie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, exactly. Look what we’re stuck with. This is what happens when you let Leah be a godmother.”

Y/N chuckled, nudging Katie’s shoulder. “Oh, stop it. It’s not the worst thing in the world. At least she’s playing for someone’s team here.”

Katie huffed, waving her hand dismissively. “Fine, but I’m blaming Leah for the rest of my life.”

At that moment, the players ran out onto the field, and Ava’s name flashed on the jumbotron. Leah jumped to her feet, clapping and cheering, while Katie and Y/N joined in, though their clapping was far less enthusiastic.

As Ava glanced up toward the stands, she spotted them, giving a big grin and a wave. Katie softened just a bit, nudging Y/N. “Look at that face. She’s having the time of her life, isn’t she?”

Y/N smiled, a mix of pride and amusement in her eyes. “She is. And she looks just like you when you played your first match. Well…minus the green jersey.”

Katie rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile spreading across her face. “Alright, alright. I admit it. I’m proud. But I’ll be even prouder if she scores against Leah’s team.”

Leah laughed again, clearly enjoying every second of this. “In your dreams, Katie. Ava’s going to make you eat those words when she scores her first England goal!”

As the whistle blew, the game kicked off, and for all their grumbling, Katie and Y/N couldn’t take their eyes off their daughter, watching her every move with a mixture of awe and pride.

And when Ava did finally score—her very first goal in an England shirt—the stadium erupted in cheers, with Leah leaping to her feet, shouting, “That’s my goddaughter!”

Katie let out a groan but stood up, clapping nonetheless, and muttered under her breath, “Fine… maybe England isn’t all bad.”

Y/N squeezed Katie’s hand, her eyes misty as she watched Ava celebrate with her teammates. “Yeah, maybe not. Just this once.”

Leah smirked, her face filled with triumph. “I knew you two would come around eventually.”

Katie shot her a playful glare. “Don’t get too smug, Leah. She may be wearing white now, but she’ll still always be our daughter first.”

Leah threw an arm around both of them, laughing as the three of them watched Ava jog back to the halfway line, glowing with pride and excitement. “Lucky for her, she’s got the best of both worlds.”

Y/N and Katie exchanged a look, finally giving in and laughing along. For all their teasing and the years of rivalry, nothing could change the love they felt for their daughter, no matter what colors she wore.

After the international break the transfer season opened up, and with it a whole other can of worms.

Ava’s transfer to Chelsea had been the talk of the league for weeks, but when the official announcement dropped, it hit harder than any of them expected. Ava McCabe-Y/L/N, a product of the Arsenal academy, and the daughter of two Arsenal legends, was making the switch to their fiercest rival.

When Katie and Y/N arrived at the pub, the mood was thick with tension, and every player they passed wore expressions ranging from shock to outright betrayal. By the time they reached the tables, the team was buzzing with mixed emotions.

Katie put her hands on her hips, eyeing everyone. “Alright, everyone, calm down.”

Leah, looking stunned and visibly heartbroken, crossed her arms and let out a deep sigh. “Calm down? Your daughter—who we’ve all practically raised at this club—is now playing for Chelsea, Katie. Chelsea!”

Y/N let out a small laugh, though it held a hint of nervousness. “Oh, believe me, we didn’t see this one coming, either. You think we’re happy about this?”

Beth groaned dramatically. “How could she do this to Leah? How could she do this to me? To all of Arsenal? And, uh, to you two, of course,” she added, glancing apologetically at Katie and Y/N.

Katie grumbled, crossing her arms with a huff. “Tell me about it. But we’ve got to support her, don’t we?”

The room erupted in laughter, though it was more out of disbelief than humor. Viv, shaking her head, muttered, “This is unreal. She grew up at that club. Arsenal is in her blood.”

Y/N sighed, shrugging helplessly. “We thought so, too. But she’s her own person, and she wanted to follow her own path.” She exchanged a look with Katie, who looked like she was fighting an internal battle of pride and frustration.

“Her own path at Chelsea,” Katie scoffed, though a small smile broke through as she shook her head. “A part of me can’t help but respect her for it.”

Leah threw her hands up in mock surrender. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re on board with this already!”

Katie chuckled, giving in. “No, no, of course not! I still can’t believe it. But we both know Ava’s always had a mind of her own.”

Y/N gave Katie a soft nudge. “She’s a McCabe—she was bound to do something this dramatic at some point.”

The entire locker room dissolved into laughter, with Katie shaking her head in defeat. “Alright, alright. I suppose she gets that from me.”

“Absolutely,” Leah said, wiping away a tear of laughter. “But you two better not show up in Chelsea blue any time soon, or I’m done.”

Katie threw her hands up in surrender. “Relax, Leah. We’re Arsenal through and through.” Then, leaning back with a smirk, she added, “Though, if you ask Ava, she might have other ideas.”

The room filled with laughter again, with the team gradually accepting that, while Ava’s decision was shocking, it wasn’t the end of the world. She’d always be their Ava, even if she wore the wrong colors. And though Katie and Y/N weren’t thrilled with her choice, they couldn’t help but feel a little proud of her fierce independence—even if it meant she was now the product of their greatest rival.

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

The End

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Team Black Headcanons (Platonic)

''There is no war so hateful to the gods as a war between kin, and no war as bloody as a war between dragons.'' — Rhaenys Targaryen, the Queen Who Never Was.

❝ 🐉 — lady l: I needed to get this out of my mind, so here it is. It's more focused on the Black Council, so only they appear, but if anyone wants, I can do it with the other allies of the Blacks. I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistake! 🖤❤️

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, mention of murder, unhealthy platonic relationships, messy writing.

❝🐉 pairing: yandere!team black x gender neutral!reader.

After the death of King Viserys I Targaryen, the Seven Kingdoms was divided into two factions. The Greens, who supported the succession of Aegon II Targaryen, son of Queen Alicent Hightower and Viserys, and there were the Blacks, who supported the succession of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the first woman to be chosen as heir to the Iron Throne and the legal heir of Viserys. There were these two sides to the war and you were a supporter of the Blacks, of Rhaenyra.

Your family had long ago sworn loyalty to Rhaenyra and you would not dishonor that oath. You would fight alongside the Blacks and follow the Queen to the death if necessary. You would protect her and defend her honor until your last breath. It was this oath that you swore and it was what brought you to meet her face-to-face, along with the other members of her family who supported her.

Rhaenyra received your support with great enthusiasm and affection, smiling at you and hugging you, saying how much it meant to know that you, and your family, stayed true to their oath. She hugged you tightly, and you melted into the Black Queen's tight embrace.

She was so kind, just like the stories said. You were proud to call her the Queen. Rhaenyra touched your cheeks warmly and introduced you to the rest of her supporters, her family. Rhaenyra quickly became attached to you, developing her obsession and becoming possessive and protective. She doesn't want anything to hurt you. She had already lost too much.

You were introduced to Daemon Targaryen first, Rhaenyra's husband and prince consort. He was a little skeptical of you at first, looking strangely like he was sizing you up and your intentions. Which in fact, he was doing. After deciding you weren't a threat, Daemon was more open and welcomed you.

He wasn't the kind of person you wanted to mess with. Always so cruel and using violence to resolve conflicts, Daemon is not easy to deal with. But you can deal with him in the right way, being his listener and eventually his friend. Someone he can truly trust. Very possessive and short-tempered, Daemon doesn't hesitate to claim you for himself and will burn alive anyone who says anything about it.

Rhaenys Targaryen, the Queen Who Never Was, was all the stories said. Stormy yet with a gentleness and grace you had never seen before. She was courteous and distant at first, as you would expect a princess to be. But as she got to know you, the more Rhaenys opened up and trusted you.

She is very protective of you, Rhaenys does not want you to fight, preferring you to become part of the council and act solely as a strategist. The war was very dangerous and she wasn't going to risk your life. Not when she already liked you so much and had already lost her two beloved children.

Corlys Velaryon became close to you quickly. You met him when he was still in bed, injured. Rhaenys was the one who introduced you to him and he quickly warmed up to you. He smiled in gratitude every time you helped him feed or get out of bed. His eyes seemed to always follow you, with affection shining in them.

He could see what his wife saw in you. Something new, something lasting. When he had doubts about whether or not he should join the Blacks, you convinced him and he found himself admiring you even more for your loyalty. Corlys knew he had to protect you. You were so pure for this world and the war that was to come. He couldn't let something bad happen to you.

Jacaerys Velaryon took a liking to you at first sight, warming up to you and becoming the linchpin of his mother and brothers' obsession with you. He saw a lot of himself in you for some reason and enjoyed your company immensely. Jace is always asking for your approval, trying to please you in any way.

He is quite protective and this only intensified after the deaths of people dear to him. Jacaerys enjoys reading to you and would love to teach you High Valyrian if you wish. When he becomes King, he would love to name you his Hand.

Lucerys Velaryon became especially close to you after you arrived in Dragonstone. Not just because you supported his family, but because you were you. So kind and so loyal, he was immediately attracted to you and started following you like a baby duck. Luke loves spending time with you, reading, or when you watch him train with swords. Just your presence is enough.

He is very possessive and clingy towards you, constantly wanting your attention and approval. Lucerys does his best to be with you, clinging to your arms, as if he were hiding behind you.

Joffrey Velaryon is the baby of the Velaryon family, so young and unaware of what is happening. He usually stays close to you, holding your hand and looking at you with curiosity and affection. It's common to see him following you through the hallways of Dragonstone.

Although young, Joffrey is very intelligent and is possessive of your attention, often fighting with his brothers for it. He wants you with him all the time, close and protecting him.

Baela Targaryen is fearless and a free spirit, much like her father. She approached you firmly and quickly, encouraged by her grandmother and father. She really liked you and you quickly became friends with you.

She is quite demanding when it comes to you, Baela has a tendency to get angry quickly but she never stays with you. She likes it and is very patient and calm, smiling charmingly and holding your hand affectionately. Quite possessive, she will often get into fights to defend you.

Rhaena Targaryen is more delicate and calm than her older sister, all gentle and sweet. She is more courteous and also less demanding, taking whatever she can get and inwardly happy when you approach her of your own free will.

She's more subtle in her obsession, watching you from the corners of her eyes and smiling sweetly when she thinks no one is looking. Rhaena takes every opportunity to be close to you. She loves dancing and would be honored if you wanted to dance with her.

The Blacks cared deeply about you. Not just the Targaryen and Velaryon family, but others as well. The Lords and knights also created their own obsession with you and they knew they must protect you at any cost. Especially when you were the pillar of that faction.

They will go against anyone who dares to hurt you. Ready to destroy and burn, the Targaryens have no qualms about getting rid of anyone who threatens your life. The Velaryon fleets are at your disposal at any time and always ready to protect you.

They would only become even more suffocating after Lucerys' death. They had already lost him, they couldn't lose you. There's no way you can leave Dragonstone alone. Always accompanied by one of them or of guards.

You have become important to them. Important to the Black Queen and her allies. You have become their obsession. They would rather raze King's Landing, and burn the Iron Throne than lose you.

[austinswife]

ALWAYS YOUR SECOND CHOICE - ‘Buck’ Cleven

SYNOPSIS — In the final days before Gale "Buck" Cleven leaves for war, you can no longer ignore the ex-girlfriend who has been a constant presence in his life—always pulling him away, always his priority. After months of feeling like a second choice, you finally confront him about his divided loyalty. But the truth that unfolds is even more painful than you imagined, leaving you questioning whether your love is enough to hold on to.

WARNING(S) — Themes of betrayal, jealousy, and insecurity, heated, emotionally charged dialogue, emotional turmoil, heartbreak, unresolved tension, possible relationship breakdown.

fia’s note: rewatched ‘masters of the air’ and felt like maybe i should write somehing angst so please don’t hate me. possible of part 2 (not sure)

𝜗𝜚 ALL FEEDBACKS, IDEAS SUGGESTION — TO AUSTINSWIFE

You stood by the window, arms crossed tightly against your chest, watching as the last light of the day faded into a dusky orange. Buck was late again. Of course, he was. She had called earlier—again and you already knew where he was. You didn’t even have to ask. You’d been through this before, too many times to count.

The door creaked open behind you, and you turned to see Buck stepping into the room, wiping his hands on his jeans. He froze the moment he saw the look on your face—like he knew what was coming but wasn’t ready to face it.

“Y/N…” His voice was careful, too careful.

“You’re late,” you said flatly, your voice devoid of emotion, though your heart pounded in your chest. You were holding on by a thread, and you knew it.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he said, tossing his keys on the table. “She just—”

“She just what, Buck?” you snapped, cutting him off before he could even finish the sentence. “Needed your help? Needed to talk? Needed you?” The words dripped with bitterness, the anger you’d been bottling up for months finally spilling over. “Because, God forbid, Marge ever doesn’t need you.”

He sighed, the familiar look of frustration crossing his face. “Y/N, come on. This isn’t fair. She’s going through a rough time. You know that.”

“And when is she not going through a rough time?” you shot back, stepping closer, eyes blazing. “Every time something goes wrong in her life, you’re the first person she calls. You’re always there for her, but when it comes to me? You’re never here, Buck. You’re always running to her.”

“It’s not like that—” he started, but you weren’t done.

“Then what is it like?” Your voice cracked, the emotion breaking through despite your best efforts to hold it back. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like she’s the one who really matters to you.”

Buck’s eyes hardened, his own frustration building. “That’s not true, Y/N. You know it’s not like that.”

“Then explain it to me!” you shouted, taking a step closer, your fists clenched at your sides. “Explain why every time she calls, you drop everything and run to her! Explain why I’ve spent the last few months feeling like I’m competing with someone who isn’t even supposed to be part of our lives anymore!”

He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. The silence stretched on, his hesitation speaking louder than anything he could have said.

“See?” you said, your voice quieter now, broken. “You can’t. You can’t explain it because deep down, you know I’m right.”

He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head in frustration. “Y/N, you don’t get it. She’s my friend. She needs me right now. It’s not about choosing her over you.”

“But that’s exactly what you’re doing,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Every single time, you choose her.”

His eyes met yours, something unreadable flickering across his face. “It’s not a choice. She’s in trouble. I’m just trying to help her.”

“And what about me?” you asked, your voice small, the pain in your chest making it hard to breathe. “What about what I need? You say you’re trying to help her, but what does that make me? Am I just supposed to sit here and wait until you’re done saving her?”

“Y/N—” His voice was softer now, more pleading, but you didn’t want to hear it.

“Why are you always running to her, Buck?” The question hung in the air, raw and vulnerable, the one you’d been too afraid to ask until now. “Why is it always her?”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Because she needs my help, Y/N. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart shattering at his words. You felt the anger swell in your chest again, but this time it was mixed with something deeper—something closer to despair.

“No, Buck,” you said, shaking your head as tears filled your eyes. “You’re fucking wrong. It’s not about helping her. It’s because she’s always been your first priority. It’s always been her, hasn’t it?”

His face softened, his eyes filled with regret. “No, Y/N, that’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” you demanded, stepping closer, tears finally spilling over as your voice broke. “Because it sure as hell feels like it. I’ve spent this entire relationship feeling like I’m second to her. And you’ve done nothing to prove me wrong.”

He shook his head, stepping forward as if to reach for you, but you stepped back. “I love you,” he said, his voice desperate now, pleading. “You’re the one I’m with. You’re the one I want to come home to.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m always waiting for you to choose me?” you cried, the weight of all the pain and insecurity crashing down on you.

“I’ve tried, Buck. I’ve tried to be understanding. I’ve tried to give you space, but it’s never enough, is it? Because no matter what I do, I’m never going to be her.”

His face twisted with guilt, his eyes glassy. “Y/N, it’s not like that. She’s just… she was a part of my life for a long time, and I can’t just—”

“Just what?” you interrupted, your voice rising with a mix of anger and heartache. “You can’t let her go? You can’t put us first?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words never came. Instead, he just stood there, helpless, as you poured out the truth you’d been holding onto for far too long.

You took a step back, shaking your head, your voice quivering. "When I was in the hospital, Buck—when I was so sick, have you been there for me?"

He flinched at your words, and you saw the guilt flash across his face, but he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t.

"Okay, you told me you couldn’t come because you couldn’t skip a day at the base. I told myself I could understand that. I could understand that," you continued, your voice choking on the emotion you had held back for too long. "But when she… when she told you she needed your help, you left everything behind in an instant."

Your voice broke as the tears spilled freely down your face, your heart splitting wide open.

"It hurts so much, Buck. It hurts too much for me to handle. I can’t keep doing this, always wondering where I stand. I don’t even know if I’ll ever heal from this, because the more I love you, the more it hurts."

“Y/N…” His voice was thick with emotion now, but it wasn’t enough. His words weren’t enough.

You looked at him, your heart aching with every beat. “I deserve better than this, Buck,” you whispered, your voice barely audible now. “I deserve to be someone’s first choice, not their backup plan.”

“You are my first choice,” he said, his voice cracking. “Y/N, please—”

“No,” you said firmly, wiping at your tears with trembling hands. “If I were your first choice, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. If I were your first choice, you wouldn’t be running to her every time she snaps her fingers.”

Buck looked at you, his eyes pleading, but you could see the conflict in him, the way he wanted to be there for you but couldn’t bring himself to let her go. It was written all over his face.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, until finally, you shook your head, the decision made for you.

“I can’t do this anymore, Buck,” you whispered, your voice barely audible now. “I can’t keep fighting for a place in your life when already taken.”

His face crumpled, and for a moment, you thought he might fight for you. But he didn’t. He just stood there, torn between two worlds, unable to choose.

You took a shaky breath, the finality of your decision settling in. But even as your heart shattered, you couldn’t help but care for him. That’s how it had always been. No matter how much he hurt you, you loved him. You couldn’t turn that off. Not now, not ever.

“I hope you come back safe, Buck, truly” you whispered, your voice breaking with the weight of unshed tears. “I hope you survive the war, and that you come back whole.” You hesitated, your throat tight.

“But I won’t be here waiting for you.”

His breath hitched, his eyes wide with shock and pain. “Y/N, don’t—”

“I have to,” you interrupted softly. “Because I deserve to be someone’s first choice, Buck. I deserve to be more than just someone you run to when she’s not calling.”

The tears fell freely now, but you didn’t wipe them away. You let them fall as you gave him one last, lingering look—the man you loved, the man you couldn’t stay with.

With one final, heartbreaking step, you turned and walked out the door, leaving behind the love you thought you had and the life you had to let go of.

[dododrawsstuff]

Ikevil OC Atlas Fowler

Edit!!!!: the profile template was made by @natimiles

“The star that burns twice as bright, burn half as long” ~ Estella about him

“Where does your loyalty lay, little Robin?”

I'm on a trip with my family this week, so I have plenty of time to work on my OCs and catch up to the expression requests remaining

I had a lot of fun desiging him and his curse (that I took inspiration from filibusterfrog's "Umbralysis") and ended up making a ref sheet of sorts, but I'll still draw his back and some other expressions, other than his little shit smile. I still feel like I can improve him a lot, but I'm impatient and wanted to share him with you.

More about him under the cut! And as always, I'll keep tweking this post as I think of stuff to add or change. Hope you like him!

OC taglist: @olivermorningstar @keithsandwich @scummy-writes @aquagirl1978 @sh0jun @mxrmaid-poet @violettduchess @floydsteeth @lorei-writes @ikeprinces-stuff @flimflam707 (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist)

I'm also tagging some people that showed interest in him on my other post, let me know if you don't want to be tagged and I'll remove you @errethebunny @bicayaya @natimiles @venulus @rou-luxe

Name: Atlas Fowler

Age: 27

Birthday: Nov 22

Height: 181 cm

Affiliation: The Circus

Hobbies: Collecting information, baking, pissing off people he doesn't like

Skills: Singing, styling hair

Likes: Chocolate chip cookies, freedom

Dislikes: Fish

Resents: Disloyalty

Weapon: Daggers

Personality: Atlas is a very charming and charismatic man, always displaying a pleasant smile, he is a natural entertainer. He is always in a good mood and is very positive, almost as if he doesn't even experience bad emotions…?

Beneath that facade he is arrogant and thinks he is untouchable, and believes his ability is a blessing, rather than a curse. The thing most valuable to him is loyalty, he despises betrayals the most.

He is smart and cunning, and is not afraid to use his ability to get information for his own benefit, though he mainly uses it on people who have been unfaithful.

Curse: Peter Pan

It makes so that Atlas’ shadow can move independently from him. He can know what his shadow experienced while apart from him, allowing him to be “at two places at the same time”, he has full control of the shadow and prefers to use his powers at night, as to not rise suspicion from others.

Atlas also discovered a peculiar characteristic of his ability, he can divide his emotions between him and his shadow, it acting almost as a storage for him. The curse manifested when he was still an infant, so he had some time to figure it out on his own.

One thing Atlas doesn't know is the fate of those afflicted by the Peter Pan’s curse, every single one of them uses their shadow as a way to get rid of "troublesome" or "useless emotions", but as they keep pouring those negative feelings, the shadow begins to gain sentience. In the end it usually kills its owner and itself in the process.

Backstory: When he was little his parents got freaked out by seeing him playing with his shadow, they thought he was cursed, or possessed but nothing they did cured him. What broke the camel's back for them was when Atlas told them the culprit of a series of murders in the neighborhood and days later the police caught them, when his parents asked how he knew, he explained that his shadow had seen it and told him.

Not too long after that they tried to get rid of him, but the church nor the orphanage wanted to accept him, since his complicated background preceded him. Until they found an itinerary circus, they lied and abandoned him there. Most of the crew were kind and welcoming to him, especially Estella, the magician, she became a mother figure for him and the reason he decided to follow her steps and become a magician.

Random headcanons:

He learned to style hair from Estella, she says that presentation is everything for a magician

After every presentation, the circus crew gets together to bake chocolate chip cookies

[voxmortuus]

Hello, may I request #4 ☆ { telling } them how good [or bad] they are with Ben Leonard?

Thank you.

⇘ PAIRING:⇙ Ben Leonard x F!Reader ⇘ UNIVERSE:⇙ Savages ⇘ WORD COUNT:⇙ 826 ⇘ TRIGGER WARNINGS:⇙ Smut | P-i-V | Slow Passionate Ben | Telling him how good he feels... Ben always feels good, never bad. | Cuddles after finish | Internal Finish | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ⇘ NOTES:⇙ Sorry if this is total ass... but I hope this brings you some joy. Prompt from this list. ⇘ DIVIDER CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa ⇘ IMAGE CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa ⇘ My Master Masterlist ⇙ ⇘ My Aaron Taylor-Johnson Masterlist ⇙

It was all in how he moved, how he felt, it was all in how he was in perfect sync with you, how you were in perfect sync with him, a carnal unison. A rhythmic beat that thumped between you both. There was no denying Ben was someone you clung to, someone you could always count on, but in moments like this, you couldn't even begin to shake the thought of being away from him for any amount of time. Ben was your life, your breath, your air, your all. The yin to your yang, the light to your dark, the soil to your plants, the bud to your high. He was your everything.

Feeling as he moved deep within your depths, you never question Ben's wants for you, because you never feel like you need to. Both of you wear your hearts on your sleeves, and both of you are always honest, open, and communicate with each other. The desire you have for Ben, is the same desire Ben has for you. A never-ending loyalty and a never-ending quest to make each other happy. Everything you two did, you did for the benefit of love, of life, and of pure contentment with one another. No decisions ever made without the consideration of the wellness of your relationship.

Forever floating on a cloud, forever enthralled by the greatness and purity of his love for you, this moment you share, it is always so important between you. The way you are cherished, and touched, the way you are craved and desired. The way you taste on his tongue... it's the way he moves with you that always makes you quiver. The attention to details. It's the way his hips roll against yours, the way his fingers get tangled in your hair, it's the way his nose brushes against your jaw, or how his lips hover over yours taking your breaths and moans as if they are a life source.

How is it that he's so fuckin perfect? That every move is so calculated without even a feather of a thought? How is it that he knows exactly what makes you shake, quake, and quiver? It's in that slow passion, that slow building heat, that kiss of cool sheet against the arch of your back as you press it against the bed, it's the drip of sweat against your flesh as he slowly penetrates the very core, that very spot that makes your legs shake. It's how he uses his length to please the depths of you that no one else can reach. Or perhaps it's the sound of his groans, grunts and growls?

With each thrust comes another slow thrust, hands search your flesh as if they are searching for buried treasure in all the right spots, every X hit, every nook and cranny discovered. There wasn't a part of you in these moments that went untouched or untasted. Your moans fill the air, like music to his ears, your breaths pass by your lips gracing his as if it's his last time he can taste your breath. Each thrust, you become wetter, you become needier, you become his.

Your eyes, they flutter, your legs shake, your moans begin to get louder. Feeling that deep penetration, your back arches against the bed, his arm comes around to wrap around you, pulling you close, his breath graces your neck, his lips meet your flesh, you let out another soft trembling moan. Pressing your hips upward toward his, you let out a soft gasp, your nails drag across his shoulders, moving your hands to grip at his sides as his slow steady thrusts quicken just a hair.

"Fuck... you feel so good." you purr against his lips.

"No, you feel good." he mused against your lips.

There it was, both of you, right on the cusp of a perfect finish, paces pick up, breathing becomes heavier, your body becomes tingly and light, your nose begins to tingle as you feel your body responding to his. Your legs begin to shake, pressing into him, melting with his body, your whole being begins to take on its own ways as you feel this urge to moan louder, your whimpers and moans seeping into the morning air on the other side of your windows polluting the quite morning, with sounds of pleasure and satisfaction.

After a few more thrusts, he thrusts a final thrust holding you close as you both reach your own finishes with the help of the other, your whole body shook as you take in his liquid love, feeling it fill you, almost seeping from around him, you whimper softly. Slowly he pulls from you, watching the sticky mess, he smirks a moment looking over your sweaty self laying there, you're a vision. He smirks as he falls beside you, pulling you close. Kissing you, making sure that you're hydrated, and comfortable, he chuckles.

"You feel good." He muses.

[maxwell-grant]

The Penguin: Episode 6 "Gold Summit" Breakdown

To taking back Gotham

(Episode 1) (Episode 2) (Episode 3) (Episode 4) (Episode 5)

"His family's still fucking ash" lmao you fucking piece of shit

Rules that this follows directly from last episode's triumphant ending and that here we open in what could be an opening monologue for The Batman 2: On Ice. Shots of the city interspersed with a biker making his way underground to the sound of music while we hear our protagonist talking about the changing tides for the city that eventually turns out to be happening in real time (Bruce writing down on his journal - Oz giving a pep talk to his dealers). Love that this opening speech is Oz's take on the Something In The Way Hmmmmm Monologue.

Gotham already divided into feudal warlordism with the gangs scrapping for territory amongst each other and Oz the guy who's most qualified to seize them as clients because he's under all of them and knows the city like the back of his hand

I love the opening speech he gives to Victor and I'll quote it here

"Look around. Look at what we got, kid. The good people of Crown Point, hard at woick, right? Protectin us. Keepin this whole fuckin ting quiet. We got their loyalty. And we got their love. You know why? Cause we pay 'em. You know how meaningful that is, Vic? To be da guy in the neighborhood who takes care a'people? They're gonna tell stories about us one day, kid. Victor Aguilar....and Oswald Cobb...yeah. Our names are gonna live forever...

I love the way he delivers these last lines, like he can't even believe it himself. He says Victor Aguilar in friendly pep talk mode and then stops and sobers up once he says his own name, like he can't even believe that he's not bullshitting anymore and this is all actually happening. Maybe the first time he's ever opened his heart about his dream to anyone other than maybe his ma, and wasn't rebuffed or dismissed for it, the first time he ever seriously meant it

Oz openly admits that he's paying for their love and regards having that love as an unbelievable personal milestone because the dude cannot conceive of non-transactional love

Oz 100% convinced that being the guy who sells drugs to the community and implicates them all in his underground black market is him being the great neighborhood guy who takes care of people is just so Oz, such a Penguin thing from him. So sincerely and utterly childishly convinced of his own hype, the most ardent believer in his own bullshit.

It's great that for Sofia, the hardened gangster and family enemy is this warm father figure here to mostly lend moral support and steer her right as best he can, and the repentant "nice guy" therapist devoted to her is the dark twisted bad boy she can fuck and workshop forms of torture with.

Clancy Brown in his natural element playing a criminal dad. I love that he gets a role here where he can bring so much warmth and affection and sorrow to it.

I love that Sal Maroni, partially because of his role as the opposite of Carmine Falcone, is kind of an easily-played chump, and this is prominent in the scene they'll have later at Oz's apartment with Sal blinded with rage smashing anything he can find while Sofia's the one who actually finds a path to Oz, but I also like their conversation here where he corrects her in thinking that the Triads won't back down on their deal, providing some needed experience and street knowledge to Sofia, who is still relatively naive given her upbringing and isolation.

I love the contrast set this episode, between Oz and Sofia's family units, both with their sidekick and their family member. Sofia and Sal with a lovely dinner made from an old family recipe inside the opulent Falcone mansion, while Oz and Victor and Francis squat in a stolen apartment on the the apocalyptically shitty Crown Point over scrambled eggs not even with any electricity in the building.

Every scene with Francis just crushes me, trust me if I don't talk about her enough it's certainly not because there's nothing to talk about. I don't wanna think about what kind of horrible bomb they're sitting on regarding how Oz's brothers died, I don't even wanna think about Francis' scenes in general even if they're all terrific.

This one line does so much to explain what is up with Oz's worship of Rex Calabrese. He wasn't just this cool guy who ran the neighborhood and had a cool chariot and took care of people and died the kind of death Oswald desperately wants to have, he was the guy who got shit done, the guy that Oz's mom relied on more so than his actual dad. He was the guy who got the closest to achieving the main and only thing Oz wants, to be the guy who can take care of his mother.

The whole bit with Jack is even more crushing. You get where Oz's hurt is coming from, you get why he think Victor's crossing a line, you get he doesn't want to set her up for even more dissappointment and why he needs to be hard and real with her as she is to him, but at the same time, you also get why Francis is so miserable a lot of the time. Victor actually is vastly more qualified to tending to her emotional needs than Oz, he actually does have nurse-like qualities as a result of his mom, he's doing what you're instructed to do with dementia patients and Francis gets the tiniest little nugget of joy and relief, before Oz rips it away and stomps on it, in no small part because he still refuses to admit what's happening to her, and he cannot accept that he's not taking care of her the way she needs someone to. Oz is trying his damndest to and it's not working, he's not good at it. Even besides the shithole they're in because of his actions, he's not good at being warm and thoughtful and considerate to other people, and he was never raised to be. This is the one thing in the world he wants and needs to do more than anything else, and he just sucks at it no matter how hard he tries.

"The hanging and the pinky? Jesus Sofia, pick a fucking lane" lmao

Just in case you forgot that this is a guy who cares about the branding, the trademarks of how you murder people and sign your name on it, seen all the way from bickering with Victor in Episode 1 over the best way to deliver the corpse to the Falcones. Of course he cares about the branding, he's a Batman Villain.

Love the creeping musical sting that plays as he figures out what to do, when he gets his impossible idea to solve an impossible conundrum. Love the cigar that teleports into his lips mid cut.

What Sofia says here, that Oz's greatest asset is that he has nobody he cares about. It isn't true of Oz for now, but it definitely rings true of her, that there's not really anyone she cares about that is still alive and thus Oz can't hurt her nearly as much as she can hurt him.

LEFRANC: We know Oz's brothers have died, and we don't really know why or how it happened. But with that, I think, comes a very heightened relationship between Francis and Oz. It's just the two of them now. So all the love that Francis had across three boys is put into one man, and every - all her hopes and dreams for whatever this person could do across three boys is all put into one person. And it felt interesting to explore, in part, why she's so intent on having him succeed. O'CONNELL: There is nobody. It's just the two of them They had to let go of a lot of relationships to just keep this clarity. I think they moved through a lot of people - The Penguin Podcast Episode 6

I totally forgot that Oswald giving his mother jewelry he attained from bloody methods comes from Pain and Prejudice and honestly I kinda forgot most of that comic in general, although I'm not surprised to hear directly that this was the Penguin comic Lauren LeFranc named as a reference, that much is kinda obvious.

I think I said before that I'm not too big a fan of Pain and Prejudice and that my feelings on it only really got more mixed to negative over time, even though there are still things about it I do very much like. It doesn't actually matter that much because the show doing incredible redefining definitive stuff out of largely mediocre comics is something this saga has been doing since the movie (Long Halloween, Hush, fucking Earth One), spinning gold out of manure is one of the strongest points of adapting this stuff in the first place. I'm mostly bringing this up because I don't want to talk about that scene, some scenes I just wanna digest privately and not pour a ramble on top of them.

Cannot get over the close-up of Oz putting lipstick on his mom while we see the dirt beneath his fingers.

Love that Victor's eventual decision to murder Squid starts from this scene where he tries to reach out to Oz for a solution to this problem, and sees that Oz is not even remotely in the mental space to think about this right now, and so Vic sidesteps the issue and decides to try and handle it solo with money. I love that Victor's first murder comes not from Oz telling him to do it, not even implying it, but from Victor's emotional intelligence leading him to figure out where Oz is at and decide not to overload him with another burden, correctly trying to handle the situation himself but incorrectly assuming he could just appeal to cash-based compromise like he could with the cop. I like that it's specifically a very Victor decision and situation to arrive at, done not because of anything Oz decides but to protect Oz and Francis as his new family.

I like that "he has nurse-like qualities" wasn't just a dumb joke, but an extremely accurate assessment of Victor's character disguised as a dumb joke.

Hahaha fuck yeah they did a "Could be worse, my nose could be gushing blood" bit.

This isn't a show that's really committed to nerd references but there were definitely a lot more than in most previous episodes and that includes what feels like several references to Batman Returns. The coat he wears underground, the politician nose mangling, the cold underground hideout, power being siphoned from the city, I was kinda parsing them as mostly coincidences and then it turned out that Oz's cold miserable apartment was in the fucking Zoo of all things.

I've grown increasingly mixed-to-negative feelings on comic book villains, and specifically Batman villains, painted as overtly sympathetic and justified anti-heroes scrapping against bigger and more blatantly uncomplicatedly evil targets like the government and Elon Musk pastiches and yadda yadda, largely because I increasingly do not care for dumb simplistic toothless bullshit done with characters sold as violent and edgy and morally complicated and etc, that's a whole other thing. I'm just prefacing this because, all else said, Penguin threatening and sticking pliers up a corrupt politician's nose to force him to put the power back on a poor neighborhood, even if it was really just for his mom and criminal operation, was extremely cool and good and I was rooting for him the whole time (well, more so than I already am).

"You think you can just raw dog the people of Gotham with an invisible dick?" Thank you Dan Fuchs, this Fuchs, I know you're very happy you got this through WB.

BADIE: You would think Eve's apartment, the way she presents herself in her outdoor appearence, you would think she'd be slightly more pulled together, but you see she is vulnerable. You did see wigs cause that's her thing. She's costuming. She plays characters all the time in her world, and with Oz and with everybody. Just like she said, Oz doesn't like to see her in her natural state. They want the fantasy. - The Penguin Podcast Episode 6

Much like the scene with Francis at the bathtub was a keystone they used to figure out the rest of the character, the scene with Eve here definitely feels like the scene that informs her entire role and justification for being here, a real highlight of the series.

Excellent twist for a start, leading us (and Sofia) to assume Roxy was selling out Eve, using Sofia's natural expectations towards distrust and backstabbings and her preconceived notions about these people as well as ours, playing off how we were already narratively primed to mistrust Roxy based on her prior appearences, before revealing Eve asked her to do it so she could take the bullet for her girls. LeFranc calls them the strongest family unit in the show and this scene proves it (and also makes me think Oz will definitely ruin it down the line)

Extremely good tennis match scene between them, Eve trying to maneuver herself into the least disgraceful way to die while Sofia tries to maneuver her into a more justifiable victim, and then the Hangman is brought up and then turned around and it sinks in for both of them that this is not going where they expected it to, and how they both have more in common than realized until by the end they're almost on the same page, because Sofia maneuvered Eve into a position where she cannot blame Sofia for what she's doing / condemn her as a privileged monster, and Eve maneuvered Sofia into a position where she can't kill her without proving her right / becoming her father.

I didn't think they were neglecting the severity of it, but I'm glad to see it spat out on such clear terms here that Oz was complicit in the horrible shit Carmine did to those sex workers, that Oz sold out Sofia for a job promotion, that he knew that Carmine killed his wife and those women and knew that he'd keep on killing and kept quiet about it, that he has no business parading himself as an ally and a friend to Eve and her girls when he helped cover up the brutal murders of her friends.

Sofia goes into that interaction with a lot of preconceived notions about who this person is and a lot of judgments about why would you perform for men? Sofia comes from her own very privileged life, even though her life has been absolutely and utterly awful. She still, I think, comes in with a lot of judgment and disdain. Also, she knows Eve has been part of the lie about the death of her brother, and that is such an engine for her that everyone must pay for her loss. But she sees in Eve someone who has also been underestimated and overlooked. Who she encounters is actually extremely smart and real, and I think just gets through to her. Clearly, Sofia’s body count at this point in the show is so many. [laughs] But she still has a very specific code of villain ethics. She can’t be responsible for taking the life of someone in the way that she was accused of. It’s almost like Tony Soprano with the Ducks. She spares a child. She won’t engage in the type of murder that she was accused of, especially when she connects with someone. But then when it comes to her family, other people on the show, it’s not even a thought. - Cristin Milioti

Eve with the umbrella symbol, the person in the show who is most concerned about protecting her family / the people under her from the world surrounding them, to the point she is willing to die not just for the girls but for Oz, until it sinks in just how deeply Oz has always been betraying her and she's willing to let Sofia have her chance to kill him even when she's already out the door sparing her.

This is part of why LeFranc has repeteadly stressed that she wanted Oz to be a man who respects women, who relates and acts differently towards them than other gangsters. Not just because of how it reflects his relationship with his mom, but because of his relationship with Eve and this scene. The actions he takes and the brutality against them he's complicit in, no matter how nice and respectful and upstanding he is at them to their faces, because he still backstabbed them and fed their friends to the meat grinder. Even if there was nothing he could do against the Falcones and he had his mother to take care of first and foremost, even if he had his reasons, he still pushed them under the bus and profited from his silence and acted like he was such a big fucking friend to them all.

Someone who can be the biggest feministest ally of all time to women they're friends with / want to fuck / will do things for them, not even entirely in a fake self-serving way but actively believing they're being a good guy doing right by them, and still be passively and actively complicit in horrific misogynistic brutalities, and they will even be rewarded for it.

If you don't know someone who calls himself your good ally, and who would sit by and let the Hangman cruelly butcher you and your loved ones, in return for a promotion or out of mere personal convenience and never even think twice about it, well who am I kidding, you obviously know someone like that, you know a thousand someones like that.

Extremely rules that we get Sofia and Eve, embodying the two different extremes of Gotham, coming together to realize how they've both been used and discarded by Oz, on the same episode he ends by giving his big Independence Day speech to rally the gangs in class warfare. I'm sure the future images we've seen of him in the fucking top hat bode extremely well for this revolution of theirs.

Lmao I was comparing him to Paulie day one and then he does the patented Sirico finger point. Surviving the Gotham wars by the skin of his nuts.

I love Gotham mob hierarchies, I would like to learn more about these guys. Love that this moment of Oz rallying up forces against the upper strata of Gotham crime families, the first time he assembles an actual criminal empire to help him, involves him calling together his own Five Families. A Five Families made from Gotham street criminals uniting under his banner to take out the last and greatest titans of the upper class organized crime that ruled the city for the past 20 years.

"They don't even know your fucking nAAAAAME"

Beautifully elegant directing, using the crackling beers in place of where any dialogue would feel a tad too corny.

Oz driving to a meeting full of gangs lining up to kill him and getting them lining up to join him is maybe a first, or at least very rare, as far as The Penguin, really any version of The Penguin, showing actual leadership skills, showing how does he get people to work for him and give him things even when he's in no position to threaten them and they disdain him and know he is not to be trusted.

(Edit by thebatfilm)

Oz taking over the world with a giant ice box

Love how Oz responds to the interruptions in the speech, how good he is at turning those extremely valid criticisms and reads around as reasons they should join up him.

People don't trust you Oz, you're a piece of shit, and you're ugly, and you ooze sleaze and you're very very ugly

I made the comparison above between Oz with the beers and Bruce with the flare because to me, this feels like Oz's pivotal moment, this is his flare moment, the scene where you can see the legend of what this man is and will become take form in front of the city. The moment this classless codeless fool, this crude little backstabber hated more than any other criminal in town, a bargain-basement hustler derisively named The Penguin, rises through the ranks to become the king of the city.

The Penguin ready to take over as soon as winter rolls into Gotham.

(Credit to @postbusters2k16 on twitter for pointing this out)

Once again, the happiest moments we'll ever see Francis in, and Oz is not there to see it.

And oh hey there's one more set of parallels, probably not intentional, but it sure seems like Victor's speedrunning his way through Jason Todd-isms. Starting off by attempting to steal the hubcaps off the Penguinmobile was one thing but this episode goes all in. The motorcycle, the gun, a criminal named Squid (who was a part of the storyline that introduced Jason Todd and Killer Croc), shooting his first criminal dead, being traumatized, getting pulled deeper into the deep end, ending the episode with a Batman Villain holding a crowbar while looming over him and his (new) mom.

Fun times ahead for everyone.

[taintandviolent]

Little Mouth ; Roman Godfrey x Reader

summary: Reader has been working for Roman Godfrey for a month now as his personal assistant / secretary. Their interactions have been... mostly professional. That is, until Roman figures out that she has a blood kink. [PART TWO HERE!].

word count & w a r n i n g s: 3.1K | blood kink, blood consumption, (technically) blood as lube, unprotected sex, rough sex, finger sucking, biting (he is an upir afterall), mind control.

a/n: requested by @babygorewhore! feast, baby! my first RG fic, be gentle. I tried really hard to get his characterization right, so dahsdfekjdsafs. i hope everyone likes it! divider by @/strangergraphics!!

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

“You wanted to see me, sir?” The glass door shut behind you soundlessly. Almost everyone had gone from the Institute, you were always one of the last ones to leave, per Mr. Godfrey’s instructions. 

“Sit down,” he demanded. He was in a mood today - you could tell. Plus, you’d heard him yelling at someone earlier, his temper flaring over some menial task. Your ass hit the leather seat before he could continue. You’d only been working for him for a month, but in that short time, you’d seen Roman’s very volatile nature. Whenever he didn’t get his way… simply put, he got it. You never wanted to be at the receiving end of his rage, far more keen on remaining on his good side, the side that made you his favourite employee. Or so you liked to think. 

Pushing himself off the chair, he straightened his long legs, standing up and quickly rounding the corner of his desk, closing in the distance between the two of you. Although you were fully aware of how tall he was, when he stood next to you, his size never ceased to startle you. Additionally, with you sitting and him standing, the size difference was even more evident. This wasn’t the first time he’d been this close – Roman had a habit of always just being there when you least expected it – but it was the first time that you felt him press his hipbone against you, and the first time he reached forward to brush your silken locks off your shoulder. 

You shivered against his touch, doing everything in your power not to drop your face into his large palm and whine against his skin, begging him to touch you again. You hated that you were so weak for him, but he had an unimaginable effect on you and had from the first day you met him. Which, you remembered, so clearly… 

It had been raining, pouring actually, and by the time you got to Roman Godfrey’s office, you were drenched. A ‘wet rat of a secretary’ was a great first look. He’d smirked at your appearance, and made a flippant comment about arriving to work looking presentable, though judging by the way his eyes lingered on your clothing as it stuck to your body in all the right places, he wasn’t too put off. Despite you having three interviews for the position, as soon as you’d made it to his office, he’d interrogated you about your dedication to the position, asking bizarre questions about loyalty, claiming that you were, after all, his personal assistant.

Every time you tried to look away from him, he pulled you back wordlessly and those piercing green eyes held you tightly, like a rabbit in a wolf’s jaws. 

“You like it, don’t you?” 

Feigning innocence – something you know he picked up on – you raised your big, soft eyes to his, suckling your bottom lip delicately before speaking. Though, this time, you genuinely didn’t know what he was talking about. “Like what, Mr. Godfrey?” 

“Stand up, Y/N.” 

You stood, hands obediently clasped in front of your skirt. He liked ordering you around and did it often. Every time he did, your core clenched, arousal gripping your insides tightly. At risk of being unprofessional, you deeply loved the way he sounded when he said your name, demanding that you do this or that. 

Without looking behind him, Roman reached for the letter opener on his desk, wrapping his long, lithe fingers around the handle. Holding it in front of your face, he jammed the meat of his thumb onto the sharp tip. Hot blood welled out from the small puncture and dribbled down the length of his thumb. Uncontrollably, your pupils dilated, watching as the blood streamed. How had he figured that out? You tried to remember all the times you’d spoken, and a devious blood kink was never a topic of conversation. Suddenly, it hit you. Last week.

You had an armful of files, ready to plant them on Roman’s desk. You shouldered open the door, and he stood there, in front of his desk, dragging his hand underneath his nose; a deep streak of crimson was left in its place. You felt your heart rate quicken, watching as the blood smeared onto his hand. You couldn’t help but stare, you have always been so fascinated with blood. The thought of it turned you on, though you’d never admit that out loud.

Roman brought you back to reality by dragging his thumb across your bottom lip, smearing the warm crimson across your already pink lips. Your bodies were flush against each other, and the steel grip he had on you ached. Roman’s nostrils flared; even his own, the smell of it drove him crazy. 

Another second passed, and he was devouring you. You gasped into the kiss; there was nothing subtle or slow about the way he was kissing you – literally, chewing and sucking and scrubbing his tongue over your lips, removing every trace of his own blood from your mouth. You were out of breath almost immediately, and forced out a hard breath, pressing your tongue against his, feeling the wet muscle react and tangle with yours. 

Suddenly, Roman’s teeth bit down on the plushness of your bottom lip and iron flooded your mouth. The taste of your blood mixed with whatever was left on his tongue was metallic and heady, and you moaned into his mouth, unable to withhold it any longer. You were almost disgusted with yourself, craving the taste of blood like some starved, unhinged, horror-movie vampire, but the way that he kissed and tasted you had your cunt throbbing beneath your red satin underwear. 

His hand gripping the nape of your neck hard, Roman pulled you away from his mouth, looking pointedly at you. Those big green eyes… you whimpered, craning back towards him. He responded by stretching his neck away, almost as if he was annoyed with your desperation. 

“You fucking like it, don’t you?” 

You nodded, hot and breathless.

“Say it. I want to hear those words leave that little mouth.”

“I…” you wavered, unsure.

“You’re going to be honest with me.” Roman’s eyes bored into yours, enveloping you. A hazy warmth blanketed you, to where all you could feel was confidence bubbling up in your chest; it surged through you like a wave, drowning out all other thoughts. Even if you’d wanted to think of something else, you somehow… couldn’t. “I fucking like it. I want more of it.” 

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” 

“Yes. I have since I started working for you.” Your voice was laced with lust and desperation, despite being surprised that you had just admitted all that to him. Surely, that could get you fired. You were usually so meek, so timid, always polite. If Roman ever stared a little too long, you’d blush and look back to whatever busy work was on your desk. You weren’t the type to just openly say your innermost thoughts… until now, apparently. 

After searching your eyes for a moment, Roman’s lips were back on yours, his demanding tongue forcing its way into your mouth again, and you whimpered, throwing both your arms around his neck to hoist yourself closer to him. You finally had him and you weren’t letting go. It didn’t matter to you that he was your boss, you’d been waiting weeks for this kind of attention. You’d dreamt about it; thinking about the warm, inviting way he’d taste. Though, your dreams hardly compared to the way that he actually tasted. You tried to come up with some poetic description, but all you could think of was… blood. And sex.

Mimicking your interest, his arms wrapped around you, strong hands feverishly moving from your hips, to your breasts, to your ass. One hand drifted to your legs, fingers trailing up and around one of your thighs until they reached your warm mound. Effortlessly, the pad of his middle finger found your slit, stroking it lightly over the slickened fabric.

“Fuck, please!” Your lips disconnected from him to moan loudly, as your hips bucked into his hand. Roman responded, enveloping your cunt in his palm. He gripped her, massaging the ball of his hand against her, while the tips of his fingers pushed against your opening, still restricted by the fabric. At the threat of penetration, a mewling whine erupted from your throat.

Roughly, Roman ripped your blouse apart. The buttons flew somewhere, never to be found again, and you gasped, feeling exposed. But oh… it would only get worse. He backed away from you, watching silently. His gaze was cold and unreadable, but the corners of his mouth were upturned in the faintest smile. “Take it off. Take it all off. Now.” 

Desperate to have him back in your arms, you got to work, shrugging the silk blouse from your shoulders, and unclasping your bra from behind. Just as he’d thought; you wore a bra with no padding, only satin fabric. The Institute was kept fairly cold for obvious reasons, and your nipples were always poking through your thin blouses. You let your breasts fall free while Roman watched, hungrily devouring you with his eyes, his pink lips pursed, and pushing forward slightly. His fingers reached to your chest, ghosting over your cleavage. You undid the zipper of your skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Now, in nothing but your red underwear and your heels, you were almost entirely exposed. The chill of the room met your skin, leaving goose flesh over every exposed inch. 

He was suddenly gone from your line of sight, leaving nothing but your pathetic whimper in its place. Behind you, you heard him return to his desk, swiftly opening up a drawer and retrieving something. You didn’t dare turn around; he hadn’t told you to. You heard a drawer slide shut quietly. Then, he was in front of you again, a blood bag pinched tauntingly between his thumb and forefinger.

With a hint of smirk, Roman set the bag next to you on the desk, and pulled his shirt from his trousers before unbuttoning each button, and throwing the shirt off his shoulders. Your eyes widened, taking in their fill of his body. He was slender, but muscular, and his torso seemed to go on forever. He retrieved the bag, allowing it sway in front of your face. The bodily liquid inside was thick and tempting. 

“I brought it from the storage room,” he explained, unclipping the bottom of it. Red flowed through the tiny tube, and without hesitating, Roman brought it to his lips, letting it dribble over his mouth and chin. Your jaw dropped; you were in awe of the visual in front of you – your cunt clenched, your slick had fully soaked your underwear at this point, and the ache that was buried deep inside your walls was screaming to be found.

Inside, Roman felt the fiery lust blossoming. His cock was hard and his hunger had been piqued, a lethal combination. You’d been coyly toting yourself around the Institute for the past month, with your perky tits and bouncy little ass – he’d had enough. Roman brought the bag above your chest, and squeezed the plastic between his fist, letting the stream coat your tits in the sanguine nectar. It flowed over your nipples and down the curve of your stomach in thin, red tendrils before disappearing into the fabric of your underwear.  

Now covered in blood, Roman’s lithe fingers cupped your tits, smearing the blood over your hard nipples. He leaned down, and swept his tongue up from the meaty curve of one of your breasts up to your collarbone, his tongue leaving a clean trail behind him, repeating the action over and over again, suckling at the hollows of your collarbones. He was consuming so much blood… your thoughts drifted for a moment before Roman realized, and took your face in his blood-stained hand, pinching your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. 

“You’re going to focus on me, stop fucking going somewhere else.” 

“I’m…” 

“You’re a good little secretary who is going to do whatever I tell her.” 

You nodded eagerly, your pupils dilated and locked on him. There was that haze again, the warm, comforting haze that wrapped its invisible arms around you, guiding you to only feel what Roman instructed you to feel. 

“Back up, against the desk.” You took a few steps blindly backwards until the meat of your ass hit the edge of his desk. 

Bloodied, Roman leaned forward to kiss you again, urging you further against the edge of the desk while he busied his hands with undoing his suit pants. Once undone, he pulled his aching cock free and roughly yanked your panties over the curve of your hips, exposing your cunt.

“Fuck, you’re so wet...” he murmured, his bloody finger slipping between your folds to come in contact with your wet, puffy clit. He traced small circles on it, immediately bringing your sensitivity up to dangerous levels. Your legs quivered, feet making tiny little steps to try to writhe away from him. “You really do have a thing for this, don’t you? Such a whore.” 

Your cheeks flushed at his words, though you couldn’t deny them. You nodded again, looking down at his hand buried between your legs, unable to formulate words with how he was pleasuring you. His jaw clenched, the muscles feathering on the side of his face. The smell of the blood and your cunt was intoxicating, and hit his nostrils hard. He needed you and he needed you now. 

“Look at me.” He instructed, purposefully distracting you as he lined his dick up with your waiting slit. 

Giving you no time to prepare, Roman slammed his cock into you, bottoming out. Your expression was one of pain and pleasure, dangerously mixed. He paused briefly to revel in the sensation of your sopping cunt clenching around his shaft, but quickly backed his hips up, all the way until only his tip remained inside, then dropped his chin to his chest to watch the erotic display as he plunged back in. You wrapped your legs around his waist, opening your cunt up further for him.

“Moan. Loud.” His voice was deeper, huskier than before and his darkened eyes were glued to you.

You did. Louder than you ever had, probably. With each thrust, your fingernails raked along his bare back, leaving slender red lines in the skin. He pushed his cock into you over and over again, his length punishing you in ways that you’d never imagined. The throbbing tip hit your cervix repeatedly and your eyes rolled back in your head, your back arching up. His hands slipped underneath you, long fingers tracing your bare spine delicately, almost. The juxtaposition of how cruelly he was fucking you and his gentle touches had your head spinning. You sucked in a breath and moaned it out, leaning your head back against his desk. You’d never been fucked like this, and suspected that unless it was with Roman, you never would be again. 

Still keeping his rhythm, Roman reached for the almost empty blood bag again, and held it above both of your bodies. As the stream ran down his bare chest and dribbled onto your stomach and your cunt, you lifted your head, looking at him dazedly and half-lidded. You were covered in blood, and so was he. It was a mess, but the mess drove your arousal forward, the scent of sweat, sex and iron filling the frigid room. 

He was fucking you silly, and all you could do was lay back and take it. Without saying a word, but keeping his cold, green gaze on you, he brought the tube to his mouth and squeezed, sucking the rest of it out. You looked at him like it was the most normal thing in the world, even though it wasn’t. You moaned again, feeling the coil in your core winding tighter and tighter. Your orgasm was threatening, and every thrust brought you closer to that white, hot edge. Your body was crying out to let go, and come all over his long, punishing cock. 

You gasped. “Mr. Godfrey… fuck… fuck I’m going to….” 

With a slick pop, Roman withdrew his cock and slapped it against your swollen, tender clit a few times before sinking back into you, your hips shuddering. He reached to the side, scooping up some of the blood that had leaked from the bag onto the table. Abruptly, he brought his coated fingers to your mouth, forcibly pushing them past the obstruction of your lips, the blood smearing into the corners of your mouth. “Suck them.” 

You took his middle and ring finger into your mouth willingly, though he still pushed them against your tongue harshly, the tips hitting the back of your throat. Immediately, the metallic taste was so potent, it almost made you gag, but you withheld, your throat clenching around his fingertips. He thrust into you hard, the friction of his body rubbing against your clit drove you over the edge. You screamed, your legs quivering around him as your cunt pulsated, squeezing him tightly inside of you.

“Good girl...” 

At that visual, his cock twitched inside you, and his once rhythmic pace was erratic. As he emptied into you, painting your walls with his cum, he gripped you so hard that you cried out, jerking forward against his chest. For a moment, your eyes were tainted with fear, begging him to let go, but he didn’t. He gripped harder, bucking his hips up into you until his orgasm calmed. 

Aftwards, Roman returned to his cold, professional and somewhat snotty disposition. He pulled his softening cock from you, tucking it back into his briefs. He took your face in his hand again, pinching hard.

“You’re never going to say a word about this to anyone.” 

You nodded, adjusting as the silk of your blouse stuck to the drying blood. You weren’t sure what had just happened, but all you knew was that your back ached from the fucking, your legs were still shaking and you’d have to spend at least an extra hour in the shower, scrubbing all the blood from your body. Once he released you from his gaze, you bent down, retrieving your skirt from the floor. Surprisingly, you hadn’t gotten much blood anywhere. 

“Mr. Godfrey?” 

“Hm.” 

“Are you going to fire me?” 

“No.” 

There was a promise behind his curtness. There was also an unsaid threat, that if you didn’t want to do that again, he might. 

[extremely-judgemental]

This got me thinking about Amarantha and Ianthe, so let’s talk.

I don't know what her obsession with female villains having sex slaves is but it was already tired the first time she did it. A woman can and should be taken seriously as a villain without being a serial r**ist.

@lady-tragedy on violence in SJM's books.

Outside of her romances, sex is still a core part of SJM’s books. As an ace reader, for me, these scenes are nothing more than an insight to the characters’ beliefs and behaviours. When I read about the sexual crimes committed by Amarantha and Ianthe, it felt like a desperate and unnecessary attempt to make them villains.

Amarantha is a ruthless warrior of Hybern who comes to Prythian as a courtier. Once she settles in, she tricks the High Lords, steals their powers, keeps them captive so they can’t topple her dictatorship. Her cruelty is already established with Lucien’s mutilation, Jurian’s fate, and her relentless pursuit of Tamlin since he was a boy. She’s highly prejudiced, creatively cunning, and sadistic. Knowing Tamlin’s loyalty to the lands, she forces him to be the cause of his friends’ deaths. She sets impossible challenges for Feyre knowing her mortal body might give out before she completes even one.

She comes off a bit cartoonish with her grand monologues and threats while not doing much (until that last chapter) than being a puppeteer. But her drive is interesting and gives her that sense of evil in her nature. Her sister dies at the hands of her mortal lover after being tortured. This reinforces her goals to enslave the humans again. Since the faeries were divided during the last war, she unites Prythian to eliminate any opposition. Even her hatred for Feyre is driven by this. She wants to prove that every one of the mortals is like Jurian—unfaithful and merciless.

Amarantha is a true villain and there’s more than enough proof of her villainy without Rhysand’s sexual abuse. If we remove that from the plot, her potential isn’t weakened. With it, her actions are out of character and pointless and raises a lot of questions. There are no other hints that she’s sexually sadistic. If she was, who are her other victims UtM? Why does she hurt the most evil High Lord who doesn’t shy away from putting on such shows in this way? If this is to humiliate him, why continue when he pretends to enjoy it? And if this is about dominance, why doesn’t she go after the other High Lords?

Moreover, it undermines her core reasons. Amarantha wants to rule. She’s obsessive and ambitious. In the fifty years, she grows comfortable being Queen of Prythian but her tyranny is not an elaborate plan to trap Tamlin. He’s a game which she improvised to achieve everything she wants in one move. Tamlin offering himself wouldn’t have saved Rhysand or the others UtM. Her refusal to release Prythian when Feyre completes the tasks proves it. But because of the last minute addition of Rhysand’s abuse, all of Amarantha’s real causes and crimes are shadowed and she becomes a woman driven by lust for two men.

Ianthe is a priestess who associates herself with influential men for her means. Since she has no magical abilities or a high position in the society except for the priestess title, she uses her body to get what she wants. Her motivations are not as clear (iirc) but the time she’s in hiding with her family could be concurred as a driving factor, or the lack of influence in a patriarchal world, or like Amarantha, she wants power, plain and simple.

There are many moments that show her evil side. She actively encourages the separation between Tamlin and Feyre by manipulating them. She betrays Nesta and Elain’s location to win favour from Hybern. She pushes Tamlin to carry out barbaric acts in the name of upholding traditions which is underscored by her desire for power. Despite this, the only ones remembered are the sexual crimes she committed which leads to many questions.

Ianthe’s exceptionally beautiful known to win any man she wants. She’s a childhood friend of Tamlin and when she returns, his relationship with Feyre is already beginning to crack. Instead of targeting him, she goes for Lucien who neither trusts her nor shows interest in her. If she wants power, why choose the one who wouldn’t play by her rules and won’t ever be a High Lord? Why doesn’t she target one of the others recently crowned UtM?

Pursuing Rhysand makes sense as he’s the ‘most powerful High Lord’. But he has a reputation to have whores as he pleases and his response to her isn’t in line with the mask he wears. He doesn’t have his evil attitude nor does he behave like the manipulative mastermind he’s claimed to be. Considering this, the memory of Ianthe harassing him serves to drive Feyre’s hatred towards the only support left in Spring other than Tamlin and Lucien.

Duality of sex and abuse in the series

I’m not denying that these two women sexually abused men. Plotwise, it doesn’t conform to Amarantha’s character or support Ianthe’s cause. Let’s say it’s a random incident because characters can be unpredictable sometimes. But then, the only two notable villainesses in the series turn out to be sexual predators.

On the other hand, sex is a rite of passage for the ‘good’ female leads—Feyre accepting the role of Rhysand’s whore, Morrigan becoming sexually hyperactive and Nesta having multiple partners. And they use seduction as a weapon which becomes part of their strength and identity. Even before Ianthe assaults Lucien, Feyre disapproves her acts of pursuing men. But when she takes charge of her life, she does the same with Tarquin. She also exploits Lucien’s friendship and ruins his reputation across courts. These are considered her accomplishments. (And, it’s hard to say how far she’d have gone in her vengeance if things hadn’t turned out her way. She isn’t abusive but her inner thoughts in Lucien’s bedroom felt more than suspicious.)

Also, none of the victims are equally sympathised in the narrative. Female victims don’t talk about their abuse or heal from it on page. Among the men, only Rhysand earns compassion from the characters and the readers while Lucien’s is forgotten and Tamlin’s is ignored. I’m not entirely convinced either of these women would be hated as much had Rhysand not been their prey because it’s become the highlight of their crimes, and Tamlin is still heavily criticised for not sacrificing himself and blamed for the sisters’ deaths.

What truly stands out is that Ianthe parallels Rhysand while Amarantha, Cassian. Ianthe has a goal and goes as far as to assault someone for it—similar to what Rhysand did to Feyre. Amarantha's control and punishment of Rhysand reflects Cassian’s behaviour towards Nesta. He also mirrors Ianthe if we consider his stalking. In SJM's world, while the men are forgiven and their acts are fetishised even, the women are considered a disgrace and fated to die. They are reduced to mere temptresses, erasing any ingenuity in their characters. This double standard reinforces the idea that the gravest crime a woman can commit is abuse against a man. She’s only a villain when she acts like a man, pursues like a man, aspires like a man.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Daddy Knows Best, Part II

Title: Daddy Knows Best, Part II

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: StepDad!August Walker x StepDaughter!Reader

Fandom: Mission: Impossible - Fallout

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: August Walker and your father were once friends. One mission, a single decision, made them enemies. August decides he needs to get his revenge. And what better way, than to become your new Daddy?

Chapter Summary: Daddy and Babydoll take a giant leap.

Warnings: age gap (the reader is 18, August is in his late-30s), pet names (Princess, Babydoll), Daddy kink, corruption kink, praise kink, somnophilia, pregnancy kink, dacryphilia, lactation kink, cockwarming, (slight) choking, deflowering, non-con, unprotected p-in-v sex, cum swallowing, Murder Daddy™️ vibes, dead dove: do not eat

A/N: This is different from my usual fics. This would be considered dark!fic in every way possible. If you read the warnings and still choose to read, you are making your own decision. No one is forcing you to read this. This is an entirely self-indulgent therapeutic fic. Enjoy! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @saradika

Support/Reblog banner by me

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I am such a lucky man.

Any man in my situation might do the right thing. But when has that ever gotten anyone what they really wanted?

Looking at a perfect flower from afar is just fine, don’t get me wrong. You bend over, you smell it, you leave it to bloom. But plucking that flower and holding it in your hand? Now that is a truly heavenly feeling.

That’s what it was like with my little Babydoll. 

It was a cautious dance. I had to earn her trust. She was Daddy’s little girl, after all. She had her loyalties and she did not like me at first. She didn’t explicitly say it but she missed her father. Who could blame her?

But she was so perfect. And I wanted her. She had to be mine.

And so she would be.

It started with little things. I made sure to get the snacks that she coveted. I called her Princess. I smiled at her and always listened intently to whatever stupid topic she wanted to talk about. She would get so excited to talk to someone who would listen. 

I got the feeling her mother wasn’t exactly her favorite person. She was much closer with her Nanny. I was shocked to find out that she still had a caregiver at her age, but one look at their relationship and it made so much sense. I convinced her mother that she wouldn’t need a Nanny any longer and that I would be taking over watching after her. 

Her sheltered upbringing kept her so innocent in so many ways. It was like her parents fucking gift-wrapped her for me to corrupt. And with Nanny out of the way, I had her all to myself with no prying eyes.

That day she got the sunburn was a godsend. I watched as she slept in the backyard, the sun illuminating her olive skin. I could have easily gone to wake her up, but I wanted her to need me. I wanted her to call for me. 

And soon enough, I hear her voice shout my name. It was burned in my brain. 

As I rubbed the aloe on her warm skin, I knew I wanted to be her Daddy. She needed an authority figure to take care of her, and I took on that role. Since her mother was off in her own world, it would afford me the ability to become her everything.

The way to her heart was care. I told her I would never hurt her, and proceeded to spank her plump little ass. She forgave me afterward, of course. When I wiped her tears and tasted them? Fuck, I didn’t think my dick could get any harder.

And when she didn’t know what to call her perfect little pussy? Fuck! I’ve replayed that moment in my head so many times. I’ll admit, calling it her ‘princess parts’ was entirely self-indulgent. Knowing she was never touched only made me want to forget the plan and fuck her right then.

But there was a time for everything. I settled for eating her delicious pussy. Her sweet face contorting and enjoying my tongue had me hard as a rock. Seeing her cum for the first time was a sight to behold. Fingering her tightness had me wanting to test the elasticity of that wet fuckhole. 

Damnit, she was perfect. 

When I heard her moan for Daddy and knew she meant me, my soul left my body for a moment. It came back so I could take care of her and have the mental image of her in my clothing. She looked so cute and, at the same time, she looked fuckable.

It actually hurt my dick to look at her in my clothes. I had to have her. I couldn’t wait anymore. I needed her and I refused to let this opportunity slip past me. Her mother wasn’t due to be home for hours.

While she slept, I let my hands explore.

Her soft tummy under my calloused hand gave me ideas. What if it was swollen and round with my child? Far too soon to even be thinking about that, she hasn’t even seen my dick yet and I’m already thinking about knocking her up.

I turned her on her back and pulled my shirt up over her tits. Perfect handfuls for me, with areolas that harden at my touch. The way they tightened as I circled them with a finger was almost too much for me. I felt my dick swell as I thought about them bloated with milk. I took one pebbled nipple into my mouth and imagined that she coated my tongue with sweet nectar. When I switched to the other nipple, she stirred in her sleep. I pulled off of her breast and looked down at her peaceful form.

The irony of the urge to impregnate this virgin wasn’t lost on me. I wouldn’t put it past my subconscious to think it could create the next Messiah. I do tend to be a bit ‘larger than life’ at times. I mean, who else but a true sociopath would dream of corrupting an innocent soul?

Fuck it. Call me a sociopath. I won’t lose sleep over it. I’ll be too busy molding her pussy to the shape of my dick.

The first step to doing that was getting my dick inside her. I freed her of my underwear and opened her legs. Placing my palm over her cunt, I could feel the heat that radiated from it. I loved the little tuft of hair on her mound. I preferred it fuzzy anyway.

I slid my fingers down and felt the wetness that escaped her lips. I coated my fingers in her juices and didn’t hesitate to put them into my mouth. She was so fucking tasty. I was addicted to the taste of her and there was no going back. 

As if I wanted to go back after today.

You awoke to the feeling of rubbing on your princess parts. You had tried to stay asleep but you realized you aren’t wearing Daddy’s underwear anymore. You opened your eyes and looked up to see Daddy smiling down at you. 

“Babydoll, you were so pretty while you slept. Daddy couldn’t help himself and had to touch you again.”

You wiggled your little hips, trying to get as much friction on your clitty as possible. You bit your bottom lip and tossed your head to the side in pleasure. Your sweet moans were music to Daddy’s ears if the plastered smile on his face was anything to go by.

“Daddy has a special treat for you, Babydoll,” Daddy pulled his hand away and you whined at the loss of contact. You watched as Daddy kneeled in front of you and unzipped his pants. He pulled a bottle out of his pocket that had a purple label on it and tossed it to the bed. “Daddy wants you to take his dick out.” He pulled you to a sitting position and guided your hand inside his pants.

When you had made contact with soft skin, you wrapped your fingers around its hardness. You pulled it out and the groan that Daddy made went right to your core. You couldn’t fit one hand around it so you used both of them to hold it. 

Daddy’s large hand covered both of yours and moved them up and down. The silky smooth skin moved through your fingers and Daddy picked up the bottle and uncapped it. He poured some of the liquid over your hands and told you to spread it around. You smiled up at him as your hands became slippery and Daddy’s moans became louder.

“Lay back, Babydoll. Daddy is gonna touch your princess parts with his dick. It’s gonna hurt at first, but Daddy will try and be gentle.” Daddy put one of your legs over his arm as he leaned over you. He poured some of the liquid on you and you shivered as the cold liquid slid over your sensitive clitty and traveled downward, “Take a deep breath and then let it out, Princess.”

You breathed in and held it. When you let it out, Daddy tore through you with his dick. The stretch burned and you started to cry.

“Daddy, it hurts!” You hiccupped as fat tears rolled down your face.

“Fuck, Babydoll. You know I love it when you cry for me. It’s gonna stop hurting soon. Just…fuck, your tight little cunny is holding my dick so tight and keeping it warm,” He wraps your legs around his waist and holds your head in his hands. He looked down at you and kissed your tears away, “Daddy’s gonna start moving now. You feel so good, better than I thought you would feel. I want you to tell me to fuck you, Babydoll.”

You looked up at Daddy and sniffled. “Please fuck me, Daddy. Make it stop hurting, please?”

You felt him twitch inside you as he growled low in his throat. He pulled out slowly then slammed back in. Your body jerked with the speed of his hips against yours. The sounds of wet slapping filled your ears, mixed with Daddy’s grunts and your yelps.

He whispered in your ear while he impaled you over and over, “Babydoll, fuck! You are making Daddy so happy. Taking my dick so well. You’re being such a good girl for me. Such…a…good…girl!” He punctuated his words with thrusts into your tight heat.

Soon, the pain slowly dissipated and you were left overwhelmed with the feeling of fullness. An involuntary moan escaped your lips and Daddy chuckled. His hand moved down to play with your clitty and it was all over for you. Within moments, you were clenching around him and crying again from the heightened intensity.

“Yes, come all over my dick. You’re my good little fucktoy, aren’t you? Say it, Babydoll.”

“I’m Daddy’s good little fucktoy.”

“Keep saying it, Babydoll. I’m so fucking close. Just keep saying it.” The hand that was on your clitty had moved to your neck. The slightest hint of pressure kept you still while he continued his onslaught.

“I’m Daddy’s good little fucktoy. I’m Daddy’s good little fucktoy. I’m Daddy’s good little fucktoy.” You repeated the mantra and watched as Daddy’s face contorted and he let out a slew of bad words.

“Fuck, Babydoll. Daddy’s gonna fucking cum. Shit, shit, shit!” Daddy pulled out and stroked himself once, twice. On the third stroke, thick white ropes shot out of him and onto your belly. It just kept coming and you watched in awe. Daddy looked to be in pain but he kept stroking until all that came out was a few drops. He looked exhausted, so when he collapsed next to you, you weren’t surprised.

“Daddy?” You ran a finger through the sticky fluid and touched your first finger to your thumb to see the elasticity of it.

“That’s my cum, Babydoll. You were such a good girl and I wanted to give you a special treat. Open your mouth, baby,” You opened your mouth and Daddy scoops up some of his cum and puts it on your tongue. You swirled the salty substance on your tongue before swallowing. “That’s my good girl, swallowing Daddy’s cum like a perfect Princess. Can Daddy have a kiss?”

“On the lips?” You’ve never been kissed before and suddenly you were nervous.

“Yes, Babydoll. Daddy promises he doesn’t care if you haven’t kissed anyone before. Daddy needs to taste you. Just stay still, and Daddy will show you, ok?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Your breathing picked up as Daddy leaned into you and put his mouth over yours. He exhaled through his nose and his mustache tickled you. He held the back of your head while he kissed you. His tongue pressed against the seam of your lips and you opened your mouth to let him in. When Daddy’s tongue massaged your own, you brought a hand up to get lost in Daddy’s curly mane. You swallowed the groan that rumbled through him.

Daddy broke the kiss and set his forehead against yours. He looked blissful and tired and all you wanted to do was keep kissing him. You moved your head to kiss him again and he nibbled at your bottom lip before peppering you with kisses all over your face. You giggled and playfully pushed him away so you could stretch and sit crosslegged.

He sat up and got out of the bed. He walked around it and crouched down to speak to you at your eye level. He took your hands and made you look at him. With a serious look on his face, he spoke.

“Babydoll, I want you to promise me that only Daddy gets to kiss you and only Daddy gets to put his dick in you. You don’t let other boys touch your princess parts. If a boy ever does that, you tell me and I’ll take care of it, ok?”

“Take care of it?” What did that mean?

“Nobody gets to touch my Babydoll without Daddy’s explicit permission. Am I understood?” Daddy looked like he had a fire in his eyes. Daddy wanted to protect you. And he might do anything to keep you safe.

“Only Daddy gets to touch me. I understand, Daddy.” 

“Good girl. Now, why don’t you go take a shower and Daddy will go start on dinner. I have your favorite for dessert tonight.” His bright smile was infectious and spread to your lips.

“You got the cannolis I like?” You couldn’t contain your excitement and squealed.

“Yes, I got the cannolis. Anything for my Babydoll. But you have to be a good girl all night if you want them. That means you keep what you and Daddy do all to yourself, ok Princess?”

“Yes, Daddy. I can keep a secret. I promise.” 

Daddy’s smile widened and he pulled you up out of bed. He kissed your forehead, and your nose, and pecked your lips before he shooed you off to the bathroom to wash up. 

You didn’t know it, but he watched your every step until you were out of sight. 

As you showered, you thought about the cannolis and Daddy’s kisses. When you washed your princess parts, you felt that tingle like when Daddy touched you. You wanted to play more, but you were still sore so you finished washing up and got out of the shower.

After getting dressed, you went down to the kitchen and watched as Daddy made dinner. When Mommy came home, you couldn’t help but feel a little jealous when Daddy kissed her. Daddy noticed your pout and kissed the top of your head and let you taste test the bolognese sauce.

Dinner went by smoothly, Mommy and Daddy talked about whatever while you spaced out. But when Daddy brought out the cannolis, you were back to your jovial self. You ate your cannoli and excused yourself from the table.

With a full belly of dinner and dessert, you retreated to your room. The musky scent of sex was all over your sheets and you reveled in it. You replayed the events of the day in your mind and you ached to have Daddy next to you again. He awoke something inside of you that only he had access to.

After today, everything changed. He wasn’t August anymore, he was Daddy. And you were his Princess, his Babydoll. Your hand gravitated to your princess parts again and the thought of Daddy’s hands all over you had you soaking your hand in moments. Tasting yourself again, you imagined it was Daddy’s cum and that he was pleased with you.

You drifted off to sleep shortly thereafter, the promise of more to come heavy on your head.

Part III

A/N: Ok, I think I still have more to write. But, do y’all want more?

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[sulkysnape]

How would Severus react to his s/o joining the Order?

How would Severus react to you joining the Order...

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

You were weary about telling him in the first place. Severus' reactions to news was always up in the air. You thought back to the time you told him you wanted a cat, by bringing a cat home. He did not take that news very well. But the news this time wasn't lighthearted like adopting a new furry friend.

You took your time closing up your classroom for the day. Having dinner with Severus was the last thing you wanted to do right now. Lying was not your forte, and lying to Severus was even more difficult. You knew that you would crumble the second he asked you how your day was.

You had nothing left to do in your classroom, so you had no choice, but to make your journey to your shared chambers. You dragged your feet as you turned the corner to the hallway leading to your chambers. You clenched your fist with one hand as you turned the doorknob with the other. The door swung open and you were instantly hit with the scent of roasted chicken. Closing your eyes, you took in the scent.

After changing into your evening clothes, you walked into the kitchen. Severus was standing behind the counter preparing two plates of dinner. He greets you with a smile and a kiss on the forehead before setting the dinner plates on the dining table. The two of you sit on opposite ends of the table. You each relish the silence for a few moments, enjoying the first few bites of dinner.

Severus breaks the silence as you take another bite of food.

“How was your day, love?” He asks. 

You look up from your food and think for a few moments. You clear your throat before speaking.

“It was good.” You begin “We began talking about why muggle’s need electricity today… It was an amusing topic.”

You took another bite of chicken as you thought carefully about your next words. 

“There’s something else I've been wanting to speak to you about, dear.”

“Hm?” Severus’ eyebrow raised.

“I’ve been speaking with Minerva lately…” You took a deep breath “Things are getting scary again… and I think…” 

Severus let you speak. He’s always let you speak. You watched him take a drink of his wine as he let you collect your thoughts. 

“I’m joining the Order, Sev.” 

He swallowed roughly as he looked at you with a confused face. 

“The Order?”

Your breath hitched as you tried to read his expressions to understand how he was feeling. Severus stopped looking at you as millions of thoughts raced through his mind. 

“I’m not going to just stand back when things go to hell, Severus.”

“But do you not understand what position that could put me in, Y/N.”

You were aware of the possible danger that came with joining the Order. Your husband was doing his duty by helping Albus, so why couldn’t you do your part? 

“It’s not that I doubt your strength or your courage.” His hands grip his wine glass. 

The room is silent for a few moments. You watch as his eyes dart across the room as he thinks about what to say next. 

“I walk on shards of glass every day. If Voldemort suspects… If he even hints that my loyalties are divided–” 

“Do you doubt me, Severus?” You interrupt him sharply. 

Severus pauses, his expression changing to one of quick regret as he turns to you, his eyes softening. There’s a moment of silence as he chooses his words carefully. 

“No, Y/N. It’s not you I doubt. My fear… it isn’t of your loyalty or your capability. It’s the thought of you in harm’s way that I cannot bear.”

You search his face, trying to understand the depth of his concern. 

“Severus, I know the risks. But I cannot let fear dictate our actions. We do this together.”

You gripped onto his hand for reassurance. You understood that this decision would most likely have its consequences, but it was a choice you were willing to make. You watched Severus think through his thoughts before finally looking at you. 

Severus finally let out a sigh, the tension easing from his shoulders as he allowed a small, resigned smile to grace his lips– a rare and precious sight. 

“Somehow, you always manage to convince me,” he admits, his voice soft, laced with a mixture of admiration and affection. “Your determination… it’s impossible to argue against.”

He squeezed your hand gently, a silent acknowledgment of the path you’ve chosen.  “Together, then.”