#don’t play with her when she��s in the zone

[wosofutbolfan]

I Would Climb Every Mountain With You

Alexia Putellas x Explorer!R

14K of fluff and fun

For those interested this is the song that played in my head throughout the inception of this one;

You shoved the last of your gear into your duffel, relishing in the zipping sound that pierced the silence of your sparsely occupied apartment.

This was a quick turn around, even for you.

You were back for your nans 82nd birthday which was in a few days and to catch up with your friends and family.

You’d barely been back on UK soil for 18 hours, in your Cumbria flat for only 15, when you got a call offering you a trip as a tour guide in the Pirineus Aragonese, otherwise known as the Spanish Pyrenees, for 3 nights.

Usually you’d ignore such a request at this point in your career but for a 3 day trip there were more 0’s than you would expect on the pay packet. Too many to refuse.

You were one of the best in the business, so trampling around the low level bases of a fairley commercial mountain range was a bit novice for you.

These days you find yourself in the thin air over 6000 meters, or in a remote rainforest, or trekking through the Sahara, guiding millionaire white men who made the move from being armchair adventurers to have-a-go adventurers in the very safe manner which your expertise offered.

You did it because those IT consultants, those bankers, those surgeons, paid well.

Very well. 

Well enough to fund your explorations.

To go to those heights that really drove you. 8000 metres. The death zone. Where the air was so thin you couldn't stay long or your brain would lose oxygen.

Or the amazon, making contact with a tribe to warn them of encroaching foresters.

Or to the arctic. To witness the last of the planet untouched by man.

As you shut the door behind yourself, barely even checking it locked. Fuck. You thought, as you downloaded the boarding pass sent to you. 

Your mum was going to kill you. 

But god. You loved the outdoors. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I hate the outdoors!”

Alexia growled smacking a hand against her forearm, trying in vain to swat the midgie which was trying to make her blood its next meal. She hated the high pitched zoom that travelled past her ear as it moved back through the mini bus to try and find a more peaceful meal out of one of her teammates.

“We know Ale…” a tired voice from next to her groaned “you’ve mentioned it once, twice. Maybe a thousand times.” Mapi rolled her head off of her girlfriend's shoulder where she had been in a light doze. Interrupted by her captain's loud complaints.

“I’m just saying.” Alexia continued to grumble “I don’t know why Jona is making us do this. Team Bonding? We are a very bonded team already! I make you all pancakes on sundays!”

Mapi rolled her eyes at the blondes protests. She’d heard all of this before since Jona had announced the 3 day team bonding trip at the start of pre season. She could recite Alexia's complaints by heart.

“I’m excited.” She shrugs, eyes cast over her girlfriend who had moved to nuzzle into her side.

“Traidora” The captain replies, eyes gazing out of the fast moving countryside out of the window. She felt worse and worse the more they moved away from the city into the endless empty space around her. She could feel civilization leaving her grasp as the bars of signal went down on her phone. “You’ve been brainwashed by your nordic girlfriend.” She lets out simply. Ignoring Mapis' offended scoff and dodging the light slap sent her way.

“Behave Maria.” A tired voice let out, without opening their eyes. Like a school child who had been told off, the tiny defender backs down and settles back into her girlfriend's shoulder. And if Alexia sticks her tongue out at her like a toddler then well. Who can provide it?

“God” she thought to herself as she settled her head back against the vibrating glass, starting a mental countdown of when she would return to her city center apartment  “I hate the outdoors.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I probably should buy new walking boots.” You thought to yourself as you clambered out of the minibus which dropped you and your small team at the muster point. Your boots fit like a glove but they did look a little worse for wear. All scratched and battered. The green laces prominent against the dark brown leather.

Who are you kidding? You knew you would never buy new boots.

You could still make out the scratch deep in the leather where you hooked your foot behind a rock as you careered down a shale summit when you were still a novice. A mark against the toe protection where a dog in the Andes got a bit too friendly and attacked your foot. Nah. These boots were the closest friend you had.

A rumble of a car cut against the silence of the mountains around you and you could just make up another mini bus trudging up the mountain pass from the elevation you stood at. You had a few minutes before the clients arrived.

“Who ‘av we got then?” you asked and you turned to face Rio, your long-time guiding partner when you were in this part of the world.

Full name Mario he was a kind man in his 40’s who lived for bad 80s music and loved his kids more than you thought any human was capable of love.

“I am unsure, Mi Amiga. I just got the paperwork that told me it was a team of 23 ladies. They assured the operator we have no fitness issues. They have translators in the group, multiple languages so we're best sticking with English. I have all the health forms here, everything looks good. Some dietary requirements but nothing we can’t handle”

Huh. A weird group. 23 fit women with translators in the group? Weird.

“Women. Rio. We prefer the term women.” you gibe him, “Urght. 23 women is a lot. I hope it isn’t a hen party. Penis straws aren’t my thing, if you know what I mean.” you knock your elbow into his ribs and let out a cackle. 

You were very very gay. A fact that wasn’t lost on Mario as he had unfortunately been witness to more than a few hook ups after expeditions over the years. 

“Si, I know what you mean, that rock over there knows what you mean, tu idiota.” he replied, rolling his eyes and moving to help the team with the checklist of essentials.

Your knee deep in gas canisters and spare tent pegs by the time the mini bus holding the clients arrives.

You untangle yourself with a sheepish smile to Rio as you move to meet the van and he moves to tidy your mess. He’s the practical guy. You’re the nice guy. It's your job to go and meet the clients and explain the expedition and answer any questions.

“Hol… Holy shit.” you start. What you intended to be a lively welcome in your best spanish quickly got lost on your tongue with each woman who exited the van.

Fucking hell. These women were gorgeous.

Specifically the last women to emerge from the van. All blonde hair and hazel eyes.

And tattoos.

And fit.

And tall.

And. Not to be a dick about it. Very gay.

You shake yourself out of it. Come on. Be professional. Stop being a gross guy. You scold yourself.

You turn to Rio who’s finishing up with all the kit who laughs at your expression; “Not a hen party then?”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“... so on day two we will reach the gorge, follow the treeline across the ridge, through the forest finding some good places to camp and then finally end in Arén. Where your bus will meet you and take you back to Barcelona. Is that good?”

The group lets out a murmur of agreement and an enthusiastic “Fantastic!” is heard above everyone else and Alexia rolls her eyes.

“Mapi, you really need to control your girlfriend. If you're not careful she's going to run away into the wilderness.” she mutters to her best friend.

“Shut up Ale.” Mapi hisses back, but it isn’t missed by Alexia how Mapi slowly inches herself closer to her girlfriend and hooks her fingers through the waist strap of her backpack, as though physically stopping her from leaving her, renaming herself Hedi and living the rest of her days in the mountains.

Alexia lets out a scoff of laughter, which was louder than she intended.

“There, at the back. A question?” 

Suddenly Alexia finds the eyes of the team watching her, most with a glint in their eyes as they were all victims to her complaining over the last few weeks.

Listen. She's not bothered she has 22 sets of eyes on her.

She's used to it. Especially these eyes. She's their captain.

That's not what causes her mouth to dry up and her pulse to race.

No. That's you.

For the first time since getting out of the van Alexia looks up and sees your gaze directed straight at her. Holy shit. You were the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

And she had seen a lot of women.

But you, standing there in your khaki shorts, simple vest top, hair tied up and a bandana and dirty old boots took her breath away.

You gave off an aura of cool. Dark raybans perched on your face and muscles rippling against a backpack bigger than you.

You were the coolest woman she had ever seen.

“Sorry, the paperwork said everyone would understand English, or had access to a translator. That's my fault. Can someone translate? Or I can spe-” 

A ripple of laughter goes through the group but its Mapis cough and small kick that pulls Alexia out of her stupor.

“Vaya, I understand, lo siento, no. No questions here. Just. So excited to get going! Vamos Amigas!” Alexia cheerfully ended, ignoring her teammates' confused faces at her complete 180 as she hoisted her backpack on and threw you her most dashing smile.

Maybe she could make something out of this weekend after all.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You threw a smile past 3 of your group on the trail as you made your way down the mountain.

“Hola chica’s” you let out cheekily, throwing a wink at the three, who had quickly become your favourites.

You loved love and you could see how much the small brunette you learned was Mapi hung onto every action of her girlfriend. Ingrid's enthusiasm was one you shared, born of a childhood spent outside and Alexia.

Well.

Alexia was a mystery. Quick to smile and eager to please but there was something there. So confident and yet you could make out the blush on her cheeks at your innocent wink.

And god. Was she gorgeous. Chiselled and…stay professional!

They made a very likable trio and you had been spending most of your hike with them so far but you had to share the love and you left them behind a few miles ago to go scout out the front of the pack.

This was how you and Mario worked. You would take it in turns to be at the front and the back of the group - keeping everyone together and pacing everyone so they remained in a close-enough group to manage safely whilst not hampering or rushing anyone.

You’ve got to admit.

These girls were fit.

Even you found it difficult to keep up.

Though, to be fair you had to hike double with the overlapping on the hillside and your pack that weighed about 6 extra stone.

Still, you wouldn’t swap this job for the world. You thought to yourself as you spied the last team member a few metres down the mountain you halted and waited for them to reach you. Feigning that you were just taking in the view so that they didn’t feel bad about being at the back.

Someone has to be.

“Don’t worry about it” you let out easily at Pina and Patris apologies, “You guys are doing it the right way. Take in the view! We’re hours ahead of schedule”.

And you were. These girls really were athletic. You really should find out what the hell they do for a living.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Capi, what are you doing now?” Mapi grumbled as Alexia came to a stop.

She tosses her bag down and rummages through it, picking out a small bottle and spraying herself quickly before hiding it away.

“Vamos Mapi, you go up. I’m just… taking  a moment.”

“No problem Alexia, we can wait with you. Is it your knee? Are you okay?” Ingrid's kind voice asked, her brows furrowed in concern for her captain.

“Si Si I am good it’s just…”

“Ah! I know!” Mapi exclaimed “the sudden buen humor. The changes in pace. I can’t believe it! Capi has a crush! With the mountain boss lady! Wait… is that perfu…”

Mapi is quickly silenced by Alexia's large hand covering her mouth as the captain looks down the mountainside in concern. You’ve passed them and are out of view and she hopes out of earshot.

“Callate idiota” she hisses “Ew!” She pulls her hand away and wipes it on her shorts whilst Mapi grins cheerfully, her tongue safely back in her mouth.

“I do not! It is good to feel nice, that's all. I am just taking a moment. Please. Ingrid. Take her away before I push her down the mountain.”

Alexia pleads to the Norwegian, who is more than happy to grab her girlfriend's hand and continue the best weekend of her life, explaining all about the different types of trees they would see as Mapi hangs on her every word.

Alexia isn’t alone for long until she hears your peel of laughter as you round the corner with the two meneces that were Patri and Pina.

You say something that makes Patri laugh and she shoves you playfully to one side which makes Alexia's heart jump into her throat.

“Ay! Idiota! Do not push her! She could slip!”

She takes your bark of a laugh and the soft look you give her happily, embracing the warm feeling that it makes in her chest.

“Sorry Capi.” Patri mocks, saluting with a shit-eating grin on her face.

“Alright. That's it. What the hell do you guys do? You’re all mega fit, speak about 15 different languages and now you’re introducing this insane leadership structure. Is this some sort of new-age google thing?” you ask, incredulously, hands on your hips and question in your eyes.

There's a moment of silence and then all three of them burst into laughter at the same time.

“What? What did I say?” you ask. “What do you think we do jefa de montana?” Pina asks, as you all continue your hike upwards.

“I don’t know… really rich estate agents?” you ask, prompting more laughter from the group. “Erm… oh! I know! You’re all personal trainers in old folks homes but you’re taking it really, really seriously? OH! I know” You’re all spies!” you exclaim, just to hear Alexias laugh again. Which you are rewarded with.

“No tonta. We are all footballers. We are the Barcelona Femini first team!” Alexia lets out, arms wide, all three of them pausing with expectant looks on their faces in your direction.

“Ah. Makes sense. Cool.” you let out, smile their way and continue leading them up the mountain.

You sense you’re walking alone all of a sudden and turn to see all three of them standing like fishes, mouths open staring incredulously at you.

“What? What's wrong?” you call down.

“Footballers, you strange mountain woman! It’s more than cool! We’re the best in the world!” Patri lets out, incredulously.

It’s your turn to bark out a laugh. “Ha! Sorry chicas, I promise I will be suitably impressed once we reach camp” you wink as you all continue upwards, a peaceful silence settling over the three of you. 

“I’m more of a rugby person anyway.” you break the silence.

A moment of pregnant pause.

“Push her off the mountain Patri.” Alexia orders, jovially. “On it Cap!”

You cackle as you run away from the three chasing footballers and the only thought that is running through your head is, ‘God, Alexia smells good.’

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ella es tan bonita” Alexia mutters to herself, as she watches you from across the clearing, after helpfully dumping herself outside of Ingrid and Mapis tent as Ingrid sets the whole thing up as well as going behind Mapi and re-clipping all of the clips and double checking all the poles, whilst ensuring Mapi doesn't see her.

“Ay, Capi. Stop creeping and come help. Or set up your tent, you need somewhere to sleep.” “I will, I will” Mapi takes a seat next to her captain who doesn't look like she's moving from her perch anytime soon.

“So, you’re in love, si?”

“Si…” Alexia lets out dreamily, “Wait. No! Shut up, I didn't say that.”

Mapi opens her mouth, ready to tease the hell out of her captain before… “We heard nothing Ale, don’t worry” Ingrid lets out from inside the tent. Mapis' mouth closes with a small frown at the idea of her teasing ammo being taken away from her.

“She is so cool though.” Alexia continues, “You know, she’s been to the arctic three times? And climbed 4 of the worlds highest summits. 4 of them? One on her own!”

“We know Ale,” Ingird responded, kindly, appearing from the tent “You’ve told us a dozen times. Come on. Let’s see if she needs help with anything.”

Alexia moves as though she’s just intercepted a stray pass in front of goal.

Rapid.

You stand, ignoring the aching in your back as you put the finishing touches onto the makeshift fire pit.

You’d spent the last hour scouting and setting up camp for the group. Mario was off helping some of the girls set up their tents for the night.

You both preferred the ease of a hammock slung between two trees with a mosquito net being the only thing between you and the stars. That meant you were both able to carry more provisions for the group and set up your camps quickly before moving on to help the clients.

“Do you need any help at all?” you hear accented english, you turn and Ingrid offers you a kind smile. “No, no you’re good guys, make yourselves at home.” you gesture to the logs that had been moved into a semi circle around the firepit. Logs collected by Mario waiting for the night to arrive.

You're on your knees setting some water to boil as you hear an annoyed grumble and a slap of skin “mierda!”. You turn on your knees and find yourself faced with Alexia, sitting on a log near you losing a one woman battle against a thousand midges.

“You must taste nice.” It takes you a minute of the blonde blushing and red face to realise what you’ve said. You stand and move to sit next to her “No! No sorry I didn’t mean… I mean…” you take a deep breath and…. “You smell nice.”

Mapis' bark of laughter makes you roll your eyes good naturedly, the blonde next to you still looking at you somewhat star struck.

“No really Alexia…” you move closer and breathe the blonde in, she smells sweet, floral…. Stay professional! 

“That’s why they’re attracted to you. Your smell, and…” you move slowly, gently and take her arm in yours… “some people just react to the bites more, this looks like it could become sore.” you brush over a large, reddening bite on her inner arm.

Alexia, meanwhile, is acting as though your touch isn’t setting her blood on fire. She’s apparently chosen to hide this by just staring at you, wide eyed. Another midgey lands on her skin and you feel her arm tense in your grasp as she moves to swat it but you hold firm.

“Ey ey, there's more of them than you and we’re in their territory. Take only pictures, leave only footprints and kill…”

“Nothing but time!” Ingrid jumps in, excitedly, “Yes Ing, that's the one” you reply, as Ingrid sits proudly. “Mascota del maestro.” Mapi teases her.

You move your attention back to Alexia, “Ale, you should go and wash off, there will be a stream over there, looking at the treeline and the game track marks. It’ll take the sweetness from your skin. It will help, I have some antihistamine you should take when you get back and I'm sure I smelt some wild garlic growing just as we entered the clearing. It acts as a repellent, I will go forage some and add it to your meal tonight. It will help for the rest of the trip.”

“No, I’ll be fi….” you move to stand, gathering your wilderness knife and attaching it to your hip. “I wasn’t asking Alexia. I’m in charge here, Captain. I know what I’m doing, now go. Please”

Alexia isn’t told what to do often.

Yes she has a coach and she has trainers but she is the captain.

The expert.

But your kind and gentle nature just became firm in front of her eyes. This was your world and it was clear you knew what you were doing in it. She felt like a puppet as she stood obediently and made her way to the stream.

As she stood there, in only her underwear in the cold water, listening to the distant laughter of her teammates and overlooking the most beautiful blue-green water of the gorge beneath the mountain side. She kind of understood this whole outdoorsy thing. It was peaceful, she could hear her thoughts. Alexia was never alone. There was always someone fighting for her attention, needing something from her.

But here, she felt like her mind had gone quiet. And she could think. And breathe.

She was feeling somewhat light and philosophical by the time she made it back to the firepit.

You look up from your pan and see the silhouette of the tall Barcelona captain making their way over. She looks lighter somehow. Hair hanging limp softens her features and her face is bare, making her look somehow more beautiful. You shake yourself out of your thoughts and start to plate up the meal for everyone. 

You feel Mario next to you; “Ay, smells goods, some of your best work Mi Amiga.” He mutters to you, shoving your shoulder gently, “ooh we’ve got fancy with the spices, si? Someone to impress” he obnoxiously wiggles his eyebrows at you and you very maturely, in your opinion, ignore his teasing in order to stir some sauteed garlic through one of the bowls. “Go give that to your apalastar. I’ll hand out the rest” he orders.

“I don’t have a crush” you hiss, even as you gather two bowls and make your way over to the blonde. Alexai looks up as you stand above her, seemingly having interrupted her thoughts. You offer a smile as you pass her a steaming metal bowl.

“Chicken and rice” you state, as you take a seat next to her, “with extra garlic, as promised” you smile as you start to shovel food into your mouth.

You take a moment with your eyes closed like you do before every meal before tucking in. Mario tells you that you eat like a wild dog who’s just found an open trash can, you don’t care, you love your food, especially after a long hike day cooked over an open fire. 

“How do you know these things?” Alexia asks. You make the universal noise of; ��huh’? And eye her curiously. “The garlic. The stream. How do you know?”

“Ah, it’s my life.” you reply, “I grew up in rural England. Me and my brother would go for hikes for days at a time. Not much else to do. I learnt how to read the land. You get used to it…” a beat of silence, “the solution is always around.”

Now it's Alexia's turn to let out a confused grunt, around a mouthful of chicken.

“In nature. Nature always provides what you need. If it creates a problem, it will create a solution. That's why I love it so much. Sunburn? Mud is the best sunscreen money can’t buy. Stuck in a monsoon? You’ll be saved by a cave to shelter in that's carved by the same weather that's trying to kill you. Mosquitos making you their next meal? Garlic will grow and act as a repellent. You just need to learn to read the signs. That's why I love it so much.”

Alexia grows quiet, and you can’t quite place the look she's giving you. 

It’s open, and you feel maybe you shared too much so revert back to what you know. As you scrape the metal bowl clean you pull out a blister pack and present them to the footballer. “Sometimes, though, the answer is in a pharmacy in Perpignan” you grin cheekily and enjoy the blondes blush and laugh as she pops an antihistamine and swallows it. 

You root into your pocket and pull out some bite cream.

“May I?” you gesture towards her arm as you see she has finished her meal. She nods and presents you with her arm where an angry looking lump had formed. You grunt in sympathy as you carefully apply the cream. Making soothing motions with your thumb making sure the cream is absorbed fully.

You struggle to remain professional with the blondes soft skin under your hands. And you struggle to pull them away. You don’t know what comes over you as you gently blow on the bite to sooth it. You don’t think you’re alone in  your feelings as you hear a sharp intake of breath from the blonde, and feel goosebumps rise under your fingertips.

“I’m sorry, It helps to cool the area, it’s feeling a little hot” as you pull your hands away.

Alexia seems to be in a daze but you catch her eye as she lets out “eres tan caliente”. It’s quiet, under her breath and you see her eyes widen as she realises she's spoken aloud. “Pardon?” you ask, just to make sure you heard her.

“Oh sorry, nada, nothing. Thank you for your help. It feels better already. You’re really good at this.”

You smile at her happily, a proud buzz in your stomach at making her feel better, you're interrupted from any reply by Mario shouting your name across the fire pit. And that's when you realise you have 22 other clients all around, and you had kind of left your colleague to deal with them all.

Which makes it easier for him to convince you to fulfil his request. He always does this. And he knows you hate it. As he shakes the ukulele he’s carried up a frigging mountain at you. You can’t really deny him.

“Come on chica! Show the girls what you can do!”, you take it from him as you roll your eyes good naturedly as you settle back down, closer, somehow to Alexia, you can feel your thigh touch hers as you try to pretend that is isn't setting your world on fire. 

Alexia pretends that she can’t see Mapis' eyes light up and eyebrows wiggle at her from across the campfire.

As the stars start to make an appearance you serenade the group with campfire songs you grew up on, some songs that Mario sings along with you, you strum as Mapi excitingly dances around the campfire and you continue into the night as your fingers start to ache. Lucy even teaches you the Barcelona anthem, which you murder, but it's worth it to see the laugh in Alexia's eyes.

You don’t mind making a fool of yourself if that's your result.

You feel the blonde slump more into you as the night goes on, and you feel the tension between you both increase. However, when you look across to catch her eyes you see that she's practically asleep as she sits.

“Hey, Ale” you mutter as Pina takes a turn on your ukulele, rousing her from her light sleep, “come on, the tablets can make you drowsy. You need to get to sleep.”

“Oh, no. But I don’t want to miss anything.” she mutters, cutely, you don’t think she’d be so open unless she was completely exhausted. “And I need to set my tent up.”

“Don’t worry, I set it up for you when you were in the stream.” you respond, easily, and there's that look again, the one that puts your stomach into knots and makes you unsure of what you’ve said, so you continue, “It’s next to Mapi and Ingrids. I thought you’d want their protection from the bears.”

“Bears?!” she exclaims, which brings everyone's attention to the both of you, 23 worried looking footballers now looking in your direction as you bark out a laugh.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” you respond, to all of them, hands raised as a sign of peace. They settle down… “well actually I’m not, but what did you think the singing was for!”

Mario is the only one that snorts out a laugh.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alexia wakes up hot.

And thirsty.

She opens her eyes and takes a moment to remember herself and where she is. But as she hears the light chatter and banging of pans outside it comes back to her.

Last night, sitting around the firepit by your side, one she had gotten over how hot the vision of you playing the instrument was, she was being lulled into a drowsy state by your gentle singing, the stars shining above and the warmth of your body by her side.

She remembers your hands on her skin, causing goosebumps and her stomach to flutter, somehow those hands in the middle of a literal mountain range made her feel more safe than the most experienced medical professional in the most high-tech sports facilities ever could.

She remembers finding her tent from where you had set it up. Citronella candle burning outside keeping the bugs away, everything zipped up safely, and then seeing how you had set the inside up.

Sleeping bag open and inviting, all her bags set neatly, essentials on top of her bag, hiking boots sitting on pegs she definitely did not bring to air them and stop any creepies crawling into them. Water next to her cot.

God. She was in trouble.

As she crawled into the porch area she found a small metal bowl with what looked like a cut up cactus in it, goop oozing from it. She picked the bowl up and made her way over to her best friends, who were tucking into a breakfast of granola and fruits out of similar bowls to that in her hand.

“Hey, Ingrid. Nature lover. What's this?” She holds the bowl up with a curious eyebrow.

“I think you mean Hola Ingrid, How are you this morning?” Mapi grumbles, whilst her girlfriend rubs her knee and shushes her kindly, Alexia looks at her expectantly.

She takes the bowl and a smile overtakes her face, “This is Aloe, Ale.” “Aloe Ale? Are you making fun of me?” Ingrid smiles again, “No, Ale, it's Aloe Vera, it's the gel from the Aloe Vera plant. It's got healing properties and… good for sunburn, reducing irritation and swelling, some may say good for insect bites?”

“Oh, well thank you then Ingrid, that's really kind.” Alexia hums, happily.

“Ale. I love you, but I didn’t collect this.” Ingrid smiles, Mapi looks on in glee and not-at-all subtly points in your direction.

“It was the jefa de montana!” She whisper-shouts, “I woke up early and saw her coming back with that cool knife of hers… Hey… Ingri…?”

“No Maria. You cannot have a knife.” Ingrid lets out, not looking away from her breakfast.

Alexis misses Mapis' sulk, as well as the loving bickering between her two best friends, because she is distracted by you, sitting across the camp entertaining Jana and Vicky. Seemingly a boundless source of energy and knowledge. You must feel someone's eyes on you because you look up and it feels like you look directly into Alexia's soul.

She holds the bowl up with a shy smile and mouths thank you, and she re-iterates to herself how well as truely fucked she is as as you send a wink her way which makes her knees weak.

“Oh estoy jodida”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You smile as you waved the girls off from camp, it being your turn to stay behind and finish packing up the provisions and bringing up the rear of the group. With Mario leading the charge down into the gorge where you would make camp tonight.

It was your favourite day of the trek today, and you were excited about the girls reaction to the camp set up this evening. You expect that you would get there earlier than expected with these super-fit professional athletes, which would give you all more time to explore the lake. You found yourself looking forward to a certain blonde's face as she took in the view, the mountain above reflecting into the water.

It really was beautiful.

You knew yourself very well. That's the thing about being an explorer. You have to know yourself, you spend a lot of time alone and with your thoughts. You need to know your limits. Assess your feelings. Is this the half-way mark of my endurance? Do I need to turn around now? It was important for survival.

And with everything you've done you're not sure you’ll survive the next two days with Alexia Putellas.

You found her disarming. She was stoic but kind. She was serious but hilarious. Strong but vulnerable. She was stern but looked at you so softly it made your heart melt. 

She was a woman of contradictions in the best way. 

And you wanted to wrap your arms around her and keep her safe. Yeah, it was your job to keep everyone on this trip safe. But it wasn't your job that made you trek back 2 miles this morning to harvest the Aloe you saw yesterday. Or take an extra 20 minutes to set her tent up making sure she had everything that she didn't know she needed.

You knew why you did it, but you don’t think you were ready to be that honest with yourself yet.

You finished packing up camp and making sure there was no trace of your group and then continued along the trail. You thought you had a few hours before you encountered any of the famous fucking footballers you were guiding on account of most of them all being fucking olympians, but it hadn’t been more than 90 minutes before you spotted the same person who was clouding all of your thoughts.

“Hola Capi!” you shouted down the trail below you, you didn’t want to spook her and get to close as she looked lost in her thoughts, gazing down to the lake below.

“Ah, Hola Jefa de montaña” a smile overtaking her features. “I didn't expect you to be at the back, Capi” you tease, nudging her and continuing along at her side, “the young’uns making you feel old?”

There's that laugh again. The one that seems to fill a hole in your heart.

“no por supuesto que no, solo soy….” she trails off as you look at her curiously.

“Ah, lo siento, you don’t speak spanish, I’m just taking my time, enjoying the view, no rush, si?” she asks you, completely misinterpreting your look. You go to correct her but she speaks before you have a chance,

“So, where's your favourite exploration been?” and if there's anything that you can yap on about. It's your adventures.

Alexia loves the way your face lights up, loves the way that your whole body thrums with excitement. The way you describe the sights, sounds, smells of your travels. Her heart drops when you tell tall tales of alligator attacks in the south american swamps, her laughter bubbles as you tell her about accidental orders of bizarre and unusual foods in china, she blushes as you describe being run out a village in mongolia for sleeping with the mayor's wife (completely accidental of course).

You tell a story with your whole body, arms flailing and actions where appropriate. The time flies and the environment around Alexia is lost to the beauty she finds in your excitement.

You finally pause for breath and the silence makes you realise how long you have been speaking for.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, I haven't stopped talking - ple…”

“Do not apologise” Alexia interrupts, “I like to hear you speak, your stories are so…” she struggles to find the word and takes a moment “...colourful. And exciting.” she snaps her fingers, happy with herself. 

“Exciting, me? Maybe. You though. Football, huh? That must be amazing. Free to travel the world… all of your adoring fans, huh?” you wiggle your brows and nudge her again, but her coy smile doesn’t appear like you expected it to.

She grows quiet, hand playing with the long grass as you both stroll by.

“Ah. Maybe. I thought so, but now… I’m thinking, maybe I am not so free?” she poses it as a question, and eyes lift to your face, and then her surroundings.

“I love football. Football is my life. But the other things… ah. I don’t know. Sometimes I wish I could walk down to mi Mamis without wearing a cap, or a hood. Just… go. You know?”

You do know. You couldn’t imagine such restrictions. Your spirit is a free one. And Alexia seems caged. Caged and wanting to break free.

“I get it, Ale.” your use of her name brings a blush to her face. And a smile you want to keep there. “Tell me about football.” you request, simply.

“What about it? It is the most beautiful game in the world! You are English, a good football nation, it’s coming home? No?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” you do. “I’m from the countryside. Football is played in cities. I cannot think of any football team not named after a City.”

“Football is played everywhere! It's the game of the Earth”

“Is it?” you ask, “tell me.” you request again.

And off she goes, she tells you how she loves her team, the fans, Barca, how the game brought her close to her father and she feels closer to him as she continues to play. You enjoy the excitement in her voice as she makes you both stop as she uses a stick to explain the offside rule. You force a cereal bar into her hand and make sure you both drink water as you go. Seamlessly, as she continues to talk about her life's passion.

Before you know it you notice the placement of the sun and realise you have nearly completed the miles for the day. You are shocked that you haven’t run into any of her teammates, though you suppose, you have both been walking slower as you chatted.

Though, that does mean you have left Mario with 23 clients. Fuck you owe him.

“The way you talk about it, It does sound like a beautiful game, capi.” you summarise, as she finishes telling you about the football camps for underprivileged kids she visits.

She pauses and looks into your face. The moment grows less jovial than the whole day had been and you hear Alexia whisper, “Eres hermosa”. “Huh?” you let out, surprised. “Oh, da nada, nothing. Sorry, I don’t usually speak too much English…”

“Ah, Capi!” you hear a third voice, raised across the clearing you had just entered, a canopy of trees above and now you are at the lake shore.

You are both shaken out of your trances as you realise you have made camp, and by the looks of it, the rest of the group had been here for a while. God, you really did owe Mario.

“Ah, chica!” you hear Marios best as he makes his way towards you, “you left me! These girls, they are loco!” you laugh as you see the sweat beading across his brow and his face still red, “the walk and walk and walk, they walk so quick!” 

Jana now makes her way over, taking Alexias backpack from her shoulders,

“We walk quickly because Capi told us whoever won she would give first dibs on shower privileges all seaso….” Jana is silenced by Alexia, who shoves her hand over her mouth. “Ay, Jana, she’s an iditoto, doesn’t know what she's talking about, Si. Vamos, Jana. You can help me set my tent up.”

Jana is practically dragged away as you focus your attention again on Mario.

“lo siento mi amigo,” you tell him, “I didn’t mean to.. I think I just got carried away…” you eyes follow the tall blonde as she makes her way across camp, Jana having abandoned her on route.

“Da nada my friend. I have not seen you like this before…” he smiles at you. “I think she is good for you.”

“Oh stop Mario. You know me. I can’t.”

“You won’t. That is different to you can’t. And I notice you do not deny, now, vamos, help me anti-bear this place.”

Your next hour is spent helping Mario set up camp, you're close to a huge water source now, and whilst bears will only come looking for food you need to take extra steps to not spook your clients, you keep the provisions away from camp, high in trees, you sprinkle ash from the fire around and you place dry leaves and twigs around, you and Mario are light sleepers, any visitor to camp will make you up.

Alexia has been abandoned by her team. “Team building, sure… you all have fun guys, I’ll be here…” she mumbles to herself as she struggles to feed the poles of her tent through the holes in the canvas. She takes a look up and sees you, lifting logs for the fire. All short, shorts and rippling muscles. Those same damn old boots on your feet so sexily rugged.

She gets lost in her thoughts, images swimming around her mind of making you sweat for different reasons, imagining being stood above you as you drop to your knees in front of her as she gathers your hair in her hand….

“Do you need me to help you with your pole?” you ask. SNAP.  Huh? Alexia looks up from the daydream she had embarrassingly got lost in. Ignoring the heat between her legs. She looks up, flustered.

“Q..Que?” she asks you, she looks down and sees the metal pole she was trying to thread through in two pieces in her hands.

“Oh… oops.” she continues. “Oh Ale… that's the centerframe pole. That's keeping the roof over your head. I can try to patch it up with some twine… but I’m not sure it will hold.” you tell her, examining the two pieces in her hands.

“Oh. Sorry. I don’t know what happened there.” Alexia tries to distract to get out of this awkward situation. “No problem, I will share it with Ingrid and Mapi. They won’t mind.”

You cast your eyes over to where Ingrid was walking into the lake in a two piece swimsuit, Mapi watching from the fire and almost setting her boot on fire as she paid no attention to her surroundings. You think they may mind.

“Okay Ale.” she knows her friends better than you, you suppose. “Now come, come look at this view.”

You lead her to the lakeside where most of the girls were settled, and you explain to the group some of the geography of how the gorge and lake was formed. And, to be fair to them, most of them did pretend to care. But you could tell they were just dying to jump in.

“Go on then Chicas! A few hours til dinner. Go have fun!”

The cheer that the group let out made you laugh, so did watching them as they scrambled over each other in the water as you and Mario made dinner.  Lucy having produced a small ball from somewhere they all start to play in the water. Somehow, you felt like you were all of a sudden guiding 12 year old boys.

You could make Ale out, in the middle of the fray, contemplative nature fully unleashed as she laughed and played around with her teammates. You loved seeing her so free and open. Especially after your chat today.

You find yourself at the campfire again, plating up dinner for the group and you see an open space next to Alexia.

You make your way over but before you get there the seat is taken by Vicky, you miss the scowl that takes over Ales face as she slaps the back of her younger teammate's head.

“That space was being saved!” she sulks, watching as you change direction and settle yourself next to Lucy. Quickly being drawn into conversation. “Yeah, Lopez, that's her girlfriend's seat!” Mapi sniggers.

“Lo Siento Ale, I didn’t know.” Vicky looks so apologetic that it tugs on Alexia's heart as her gaze softens and she pulls her head into her chest in an aggressive hug, she kisses her hair. “está bien pequeña”.

After another night of singing, card games and this time smores you get the attention of the group; “Okay girls, serious now. We are in bear country.” a gasp goes through the group, “Me and Mario have made the camp safe but there's always a chance a bear may wander into camp. I’m not saying this to scare you. I’m saying this to keep you safe.” you point down to your calf, where a slither of scar tissue can be seen,

“I’ve been on the wrong side of a hungry brown bear before. They are good creatures, just hungry. They hate humans. If, and this is a big if a bear wanders into camp you need to just make noise. That will be enough to scare it away and bring mine and Marios attention to you. Si?”

The group is quiet for a moment until Ingrid lets out an affirmative noise.

You think your little bear chat scared them because quickly it's just you, Mario and Alexia who remain awake, as Mario tells stories of his family and the mischief his children get up to. He lets out a big yawn.

“Mario, you can get to bed. I will sort this” you point down to the dying embers of the fire. “I owe you after today.” “You do” he smiles as he stands up and makes his way across camp to his hammock.

“I will go to bed also.” Alexia stands, and you offer to walk her to Mapi and Ingrids tent with your headlamp so she doesn't trip on any ropes.

That smile again. She nods and as you move closer to the tent you hear a noise. You put your hand on her arm to stop her, and cock your head to one side, that won’t be a bear, surely?

There! That noise again. Louder this time. Wait. A… groan?

“Oh my god.” Alexia whispers, a laugh in her voice. You're confused and then you hear it again, this time, it sounds suspiciously like a groan of a name. Maria. Oh. Oh for god's sake. 

“Maybe they took the ‘make noise’ instruction too seriously, si?” Alexia giggles into your ear. This makes you bark out a laugh, quickly hidden behind her hand that raises itself to your mouth.

“Qué fue eso” you hear from the tent. For some reason, this fills both you and Alexia with childish excitement and glee. As you pull her hand with you as you sprint away from the tent as though you are 9 in a school yard and have just been told someone has cooties.

You guide her to your hammock, and stand there, giggles subsiding, suddenly unsure of what to do.

“Maybe they forgot you were in with them tonight?” you ask the blonde, who shrugs and replies “with those two I don’t think much can stop them.” this makes you laugh lightly and then a beat of silence.

“Erm, you can take my hammock, sorry, some people don't find it comfortable but it keeps the mosquitos away and I can set up a roll matt by the fire.”

“No.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make yo…”

“No, I mean. I am not kicking you out of your bed. I will go on the matt… “

“No Ale. With your blood you’ll be eaten alive without a net… maybe..”

“Si?”

“Maybe we can share? The hammock is huge and it's normal for people to share in survival situations, you know, to keep warm and stuff.”

“Creo que tener calor será el problema.” “Pardon?” “Ah, nothing, I just said yes we should share.”

This keeps happening, and you think it's hilarious, and you let out a coy smile, “roomies?” you ask, Alexia matches your smile as she nods.

You let her get settled into the hammock in her sleeping bag before you pull it wider, there being plenty of material to hold you both comfortably. You forgot, the design of the hammock encapsulates you both, the canvas bowing upwards forcing you both into the middle, and creating a shield around you, mosquito net a curtain around you.

Suddenly, all your senses are full of Alexia. Alexia beneath you and stars above you. God. Have you died and gone to heaven? No. In heaven you wouldn't be separated by 2 layers of polyester sleeping bags.

You shuffle around to try to take some of your weight off her and lie by her side. “Sorry,” you mutter, feeling a type of embarrassment you never do when usually sharing this space, probably with another explorer, usually in some death defying situation. 

You don’t know how this perfectly safe encounter makes you more nervous than those. In those situations, you don’t have time to be embarrassed by how heavy your weight is on the other person, how it's been 2 days since your last shower…. How your breath must smell.

“Estas bien” she lets out, softly, and those two words calm you more than a half a bar of phone signal after days of trekking in the Atlas Mountains ever could. One of her arms envelopes your shoulder and your head settles onto her chest. “Lo siento my arm is in the way…”

“Estas bien.” you reply, softly.

Alexia has never been more comfortable in her entire life. The warmth of your body weighs on hers, the smell of you infiltrating her senses, the stars above and the gentle sway of the hammock.

Sleep is already dragging her as you whisper, “buenas noches que duermas bien ale”. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alexia wakes to the feeling of movement on her chest. Before she opens her eyes she takes stock of her body. Her arms now fully wrapped around you. Hands tangled in your hair. You burrowed into her chest. She is warm.

She is happy.

She knows you're awake. But there's no springing apart in embarrassment. God no. She's not ashamed. She wants this moment to last forever.

But it can’t.

You groan in her arms as you both hear Mario clanking pans to start breakfast. You pop your head up like a meerkat to take note of the surroundings. It's early. Dew still in the grass and an early morning fog over the lake. The light is dim, the sun not yet as awake as the occupants of your hammock.

“Morning Ale” you croak, morning voice in full effect. You finally turn to her and your breath is nearly taken away by her beauty. Her face is open, hair bedridden and eyes bleary from sleep but smile tugging on her lips as she looks at you with that look.

“Cómo estás aún más hermosa por la mañana?” she asks, in a whisper trying not to break the silence of the morning, it just comes out of her mouth without thinking, and she can’t stop it.

You freeze in her arms, and for a moment she tenses.

“...pardon?” you ask. Ale covers herself, “Ah lo siento, I asked. Did you sleep well?” you hum in acknowledgement and she isn’t sure what to make of the look that you sent her way.

“Yes, very well thank you. At least you’re softer than the floor.” you joke, eyebrow arched.

“I am not soft!” she replies, affronted, “I am all muscle actually!” She sits up and begins to tense her biceps jokingly. This is the Ale that frightens you the most. Frightens you how deep your feelings will run. All jokes and soft edges and smiles. You need a moment.

“Alright alright superwoman. Go put the kettle on, will you? I’m going to jump in the lake to wash off before your girls wake up.” and with that you lean out of the hammock and pull your shirt off as you go, leaving you in a sports bra and Alexia with her mouth hanging open.

Which is why, not 6 minutes later, Ona is awoken to the sound of her tent unzipping.

“Lucia” she hears whisper-yelling, into the entrance of the tent. She freezes, sleep-addled mind confused… is that… Alexia?

“Lucia!” more urgent this time. Ona rolls away from her girlfriend and sees Alexia's head popped through the tent. Looking around urgently.

“What do you want, Ale?” Ona groans. Her girlfriend is dead to the world, an atomic bomb wouldn’t wake her up.

“I need Lucia!”

“What for. What has happened… it must be… 6am?” Ona grabs for her watch, confirming her suspicions. 

“Si, pero eso no importa, I need Lucia to translate for me.”

“You speak better English than she does Spanish.” One is very very confused. “What needs translating?”

“I do not need English, I need British.” Ah. This is making sense now, The whole team had seen how love sick their capi had been over the mountain boss. It was unnerving for them, but all of them wish nothing but happiness for their well respected leader, still, it’s always fun to tease.

“Ah, mi Capi. This has something to do with the jefe de montana, si?” a teasing smile enters her face, “por favor, tell me, what's happened?”

Alexia looks frustrated, looking at something outside of the tent, but seems to accept her fate as she lets herself fall into the tent, practically on top of Ona, whilst holding a… kettle?

“She asked me to put the kettle on. But Ona, I don’t know what I’m putting it on! Is it a special kettle? it doesn't do anything, look!” and with that the young defender gets a metal kettle thrust into her face as though it's a rubix cube that she has 30 seconds to solve

Her captain looks at her so urgently it would be sad if it wasn’t so hilarious. Ona can’t help herself as she bursts out laughing. All this does is further aggravate her captain.

“Oh, olvídalo, idiota, voy a despertar a Kiera.”

“No, No, No, lo siento mi Capi. You forget, I lived in England for years. She means for you to go boil the kettle. For hot drinks.”

Alexia looks at her dumbfounded, “then why didn’t she just say that!”

“I know” Ona looks at her with faux sympathy, as she passes the kettle back to her she looks so determined to complete the little task she's been set that offers her a lifeline.

“Capi, wait.” Alexia turns to look at her expectantly, “I have… experience? With the English.” her eyes dart to the lump that is Lucy sleeping beside her. Well Alexia can’t argue that.

“Make her a Tea. Just trust me.” Ona continues, sagely, as though she had just passed on the wisdom of the universe.

Alexia looks at her, about to question until…

“Tea? Someone's making tea?” Lucy grumbles, rolling over into Ona, seemingly awoken from her deep slumber like a dog who's just heard someone mention a walk.

Alexia doesn’t have time to open her mouth when she hears from the next tent over where she saw Keira set up last night, a thick english accent,

“Ey wait, Is someone brewing up?”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s half an hour later and, with intervention from Lucy when Alexia tried to rip open a tea bag into your cup, that you have a warm enamel mug shoved into your hands. Alexia looked at you as though she had just handed you a pot of gold, all shining eyes and happy smile.

You feel much fresher after your early morning dip, trail shorts and vest back on and in two loose plaits that fall down over your shoulders. You look at the mug curiously, before you take a heavenly sniff of the liquid inside.

You thank the blonde, bashfully, and can’t help but place a grateful kiss on her cheek as you move past her. You pretend that your lips aren’t on fire from the contact. For her sake you also pretend that you didn’t see her stumble over a non-existent log at your action.

What you do miss though, is Ona sending her a wink, and the smug ‘i-told-you-so.” look at her face as she leans against her own girlfriend, who is happily drinking from her own mug.

You finish helping Mario make sure that all the girls are fed for the day before you stand in the middle of them and clap to gain their attention.

“Alright ladies! I hope you all slept well,- ” a mumble of affirmation goes through the group,

“I think Ingrid did not sleep so well.” Pina shouts across the group, “Si,” Parti joins in, “Did you see a bear Ingrid? Just I heard you screa-”

A rock is then thrown at Patris head, “ouch!” and you turn to see was directed by Mapi, Ingrid's face in a deep blush. The girls all burst into laughter.

God you were going to miss this group.

“Ok, Ok, Ladies calm it down. So, we have a choice today. Last full day on the hike… if you want it to be.” a curious mumble goes through the group. “Si, so, when we plotted this route someone…” you eye your partner “failed to mention that you are all literal athletes, so, we’re actually ahead of schedule, I’ve spoken to the bus company and if you want to then we can actually make it to the rendezvous spot today. It gives you a day back in Barcelona to yourselves before you start back at your traini….”

“No!” you’re interrupted as the group turns to Alexia who looks as though you’ve just asked her to never kick a ball again.

She takes a moment and realises that she's on her feet in front of the group, half of which are looking at her as though she's lost her mind, and the other half are looking at her with wry grins like they know exactly what's going on. 

“I mean, we should not. We need to bond. As a team. Si?” she asks the group “That is why we are here, and we should do that. Yes.” She looks at her teammates determinedly, nodding, as though daring anyone to question her. 

“But, Ale, you said that you hate–”, you see why Alexia is the best football player on the planet as you witness the speed in which she moves over to Jana and covers her entire face with her hand, stopping her words.

“No Jana, shhh pequeño. You look unwell. Are you feeling okay?” All Jana can do is nod under her giant hand as Mapi sniggers behind hers.

Okay, maybe you wouldn’t miss this group too much. They can be a bit weird. But you pretend that you don’t put more enthusiasm into your next sentence.

“Or, we can take the long way round to the rendezvous point, we’ll get some great views of the lake from that ridge over there” you point upwards and 23 eyes follow your movement, “set up camp for one more night, me and Mario can set up a Bonfire for our last night, yes?” he nods, “and then back to the bus in the morning if we would prefer?”

“Si, That we would prefer!” Alexia answers for the whole group, though the enthusiastic nods behind her assure you that they agree with her.

“Okay then, let's pack up campers, we'll have some elevation gains today!” you smile, clapping your hands together and a groan settles through the group as you move to pack up the breakfast items you hear Mapi and Alexia talking,

“Todos estamos haciendo esto por ti y por tu capitán de vida amorosa, recuérdalo el día del entrenamiento en circuito.”

Alexia responds in a tone you haven't heard from her before, “Lo sé, gracias Mapi. Simplemente no estoy listo para decir adiós todavía, ella es especial” she looks direct at you as she responds, no attempt to hide her spanish words, and the intensity of her gaze makes you look away.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

All you wanted to do was a repeat of yesterday, hang at the back of the group and walk with Alexia. Maybe let your hand brush against hers a few times more than necessary and learn all about her life in Barca.

But, you were the best guide on this side of Europe for a reason. And you think Mario would push you off the mountain if you left him to do it again, even if he tells you he wouldn’t, you still felt bad about yesterday. 

So today, you found yourself at the front of the group. Weirdly, Alexia by your side with a few of the older girls, as well as Jana and Vicky who were hanging off Alexia's every word. It was cute, watching her with them.

Whatever fatigue she was suffering from yesterday which slowed her down so much seemed to have lifted, as her strong legs carried her with the rest of the group upwards. The elevation not bothering any of the women.

You were just hanging back with Mapi and Ingrid for a moment. Mapis backpack was bothering her, probably on account of her trying to carry all of Ingrids kit, you were teasing her as you helped to re-adjust the weight as Mapi was grumbling about how she definitely was strong enough to carry two sleeping bags, a tent as well as two sets of clothing whilst Ingrid was literally carrying a pillow, when the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

Something didn’t feel right, you looked up and could still see the front of the group, Alexia and Vicky chatting, going off Aleixas hand movements there was some deep football discussion going on.

You take stock of everything around you. In order to be in your line of work you needed to be aware of all of your senses, if one failed, another would pick it up, a smell in the air brought your attention and you turned to see droppings just off the trail. A large amount of droppings, and, oh no, green. You turned again and saw a tree bark torn up further away from the trail.

Fuck.

Bear droppings are green and quickly turn black as they oxidise, bears tear up trees and rocks as they pass through an area. These droppings were fresh, very fresh.

That, tied with your fantastic intuition, made you nervous.

The group had continued onward as you took stock and Alexia and Vicky had turned a corner just up the trail. You quickly help Mapi back into her backpack and move through the group quickly, making your way to the front.

“Detener!” you shout, wanting Alexia and Vicky in your sights. You turn the corner and your shout has caught their attention as they are both frozen, looking at you expectantly.

What they fail to notice, however, is a bear on the trail in front of them, not 20 metres away.

It’s a young bear, that you can tell, which is good because of its size, but the worst possible situation because young bears, like humans, are stupid. 

They are curious, they don’t see you as a threat, but if there is a bear this young here, there will be a mother bear somewhere around which you definitely do not want to be on the wrong side of.

You need to separate your group from this bear as quickly as possible. But without freaking them out.

“Alexia, walk towards me.” you instruct, seriously, arm out reaching towards the two girls, whilst you hold your other arm out behind you. Stopping the rest of the group before they can move forwards.

“What’s the matte— oh meirda…” Alexia has turned and seen what's on the path in front of her. Her back immediately straightens and grabs Vicky to pull her behind her. You hate the quick movement that they make as you inwardly cringe at their actions.

“Alexia, stay calm.” you slowly move towards them, “do not make any quick movements.” you don’t receive any sort of affirmation as both girls seem to be frozen in place.

“No te muevas rápidamente, no corras. Caminar hacia atrás lentamente” your use of spanish seems to get through the fear as you see Alexias feet start to scramble backwards, pushing Vicky behind her, who remains shielded behind her back.

You move forwards, slowly, arms still raised and as soon as in touching distance, pull Alexia behind your back. You can’t see her face as you refuse to move your eyes from the threat in front of you, but you can feel the terror running through her body.

Meanwhile, the bear is having a great old time, sniffing around and pawing at the ground. He’s stopped on the trail and is looking at you, curiously, as he starts to move towards you, you hear a yelp of terror from one of the girls behind you.

Usually, you know, to make yourself big and back up as slowly as possible, but you’re in a group of 23 novice hikers, and you knew you had to get this threat away as quickly as possible.

So instead, you make yourself big, you raise your arms in the air and start to move forward. You feel a tug on the back of your shirt and a frightened whimper from the tall blonde who seems to have grasped onto your shirt.

You take a big stride forwards as you move a hand back to untangle Alexia's grasp from your shirt.

“OYE, OSO. LO SIENTO AMIGO, TINES QUE MOVERTE!” you continue to move forward and wave your hands around. The bear cocks his head at you, curiously, you’re still moving closer and an alarm is going off in your mind, he’s gotta start moving or you’re going to be too close for comfort…

“SEGUIR. IRSE” you clap your hands together sharply, and that seems to frighten the curiosity from the young bear, who quickly scurries off the path and deep into the bush on your right hand side. 

The silence of the moment is suffocating. You take a moment and breathe some deep breaths. Filling your lungs and slowly releasing it. Once you feel your heartbeat settle down you turn on your heel and open your eyes to face the group behind you.

There, you are faced with 23 shell shocked faces. Mouths comically dropped as they all stare at you in awe.

The silence is interrupted as Mario catches up to the group, singing under his breath, you see his head pop up from the back of the group and an innocent smile on his face, “Hey chicas? What did I miss?”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  

“...And then El jefe de la montaña practically tackled this enormous bear that was virtually salivating at the thought of eating Ales pert butt as a light snack!”

Mapi dramatically, and incorrectly recites her version of events for what feels like the 5th time for the rest of the group who were hanging back with Mario during the excitement of the day.

The whole group sat together at the bonfire that you and Mario had erected, you’d gone the whole hog and dragged logs over to create a circle around the fire. You’d cracked out the marshmallows you’d been hiding deep in your backpack and you and the girls had had an evening of jokes, stories and, after Matio whipped his ukulele out again, songs. 

You’re sitting with Ingrid and you miss the warmth at your side that had been present over the last two days. Alexia is sat with Vicky, and, whilst she’s been nothing but pleasant to you since the incident this afternoon, you feel like a barrier has come up between you.

You try to not overthink the situation, who are you anyway? She's Alexia Putellas, and, over the last 3 days you've learnt that that's a big deal. Of course she isn’t interested in you. God. You need to be a professional. You try to stay in the moment and stop your mind from running away. You feel the heat from the fire on your face as you close your eyes.

“... and how did you learn to do that?” you hear, and as Ingrid nudges your side, you realise Mapis question was aimed at you.

You open your eyes and see the attention of the group on you. There may be an entire football team's eyes on you but you can’t help but zone in on a certain set of hazel eyes which bore directly into your soul.

“I told you, I’ve been on the wrong end of a bear in my time.” you try to joke, pointing at the scar again running down your leg, and you get a few chuckles, but you note, Alexia's face remains stoic, and her frown deepens at your words.

“What happened?” Vicky asks, next to her. She receives a light slap to the head from her captain, “Aye, don’t be rude pequeño.”

“I don’t mind Ale.” you say, heart warming at Alexias protectiveness, “well, little football superstar” you address Vicky, “I was on a 6 month trek through the Andeas, we wanted to see if we could find any further remains from the Incas. We did by the way. Anyway, I was young, and stupid and we hadn’t stored our food safely, which, you’ll note, me and Mario have done today.” you reach across and give your partner a fist bump, “a mother bear wandered into our camp whilst I was alone. I was an idiot and got between her and an open packet of cheetos.”

“Cheetos!” Vicky asks, incredulously.

“Yes! Turns out they love those cheesy snacks” you wink at her, “she attacked and luckily, my camp leader was just coming back and managed to deploy his bear spray just as she managed to take a good swipe at my calf. I was lucky. But it wasn’t her fault. I was in her land and didn’t protect myself properly.”

Vicky waxes lyrical about your story for a while, asking you a million and one questions. The conversation across the campfire moves onto the upcoming season for the team as you and Mario start to set camp up for the night around them.

“Hey, Al, Me and Ing are heading to bed, I promise we’ll behave tonight, but I can’t promise I won’t cuddle you.” you hear Mapi address to Alexia,

“Great, look forward to it” Alexia replied sarcastically. Mapis retreat to bed seems to have set off a chain reaction amongst the team who all start to say their goodnights.

You can’t pretend that you aren’t upset that you won’t have a repeat of last night in your hammock. The sadness swirls in your stomach, but you remind yourself that the whole thing seemed to be a fantasy you’d made up in your mind. 

You look up to the sky and with your head torch can see that it seems to have darkened somewhat. You move away from camp and string a rope above your hammock, you throw over a tarpaulin which covers your hammock and protects you from any rain.

As you move back to the fire you decide you’ll wait it out instead of throwing water on to drown the fire. You have some excess energy from the excitement of the day and you know you’ll just lie awake in your hammock anyway. As Mario squeezes your shoulder in goodnight you notice that Alexia seems to be hanging around the edge of the circle. 

“Night Ale.” you say, kindly. It’s not her fault you have a massive unrequited crush on her.

You don’t know her well but she seems…nervous? Hands playing with themselves and feet unable to stay still.

“Nig… actually… Can we talk?” she asks, chin turning upwards and vulnerability showing on her face.

You nod and you are surprised when she sits next to you and asks, “why do you still do it?”

You look at her, curiously, she is so beautiful. Sharp angles of her face illuminated by the dying embers, perfect lips, the arch of her nose. She takes your breath away. You have a question in your eyes.

“This. As a job. You got hurt…” her hand moves, and god it's only been a few hours but you feel like you’ve been touch starved for years, as she lightly traces the scar on your calf. Leaving behind a wake of goosebumps. “You’re so brave…”

Maybe it's her touch that makes gives you the confidence but you dont think before you reply,

“I could ask you the same thing.” She has a question in her eyes now, so you repeat her action, hand moving to touch her knee where you can see the surgery scars that pull tight against her skin.

You feel her take in a breath and you think you may have overstepped until she takes your hand in her large one, keeping your hand resting on her knee.

You look into the fire as you continue; “I love my job. I can’t imagine my life without it. It gives me air in my lungs. It's my reason to live. And yeah. I got hurt. I've been hurt before and I’ll be hurt again.” Alexia squeezes your hand at that, “but that's why we do what we love, isn’t it? You’re so brave every time you step out onto a pitch again” you direct your question to her, “we learn from our mistakes, come back stronger from our injuries, not just in our skills but as people? No?” 

There's that look again, those open eyes, that expression you can’t place.

“Football is the same for you Ale. I can tell. When you talk about it. Think of that feeling you get. That's why I carry on. I love it, and it wasn’t that bears fault I got hurt, It was mine. Just as it wasn’t the rocks fault as I slipped 200 feet down Mt Kilimanjaro. They’re all lessons on how to adapt, on how to come back stronger.”

She nods, a look of understanding in her eyes and turns her gaze towards the fire. But doesn’t let go of your hand. 

You don't know what Alexia is thinking. You don't know that she feels like every word out of your mouth feels like you've plucked it straight from her heart. You're deep. She feels like finally someone gets her.

“You spoke Spanish today.” she lets out into the silence.

Ah, you think, she hadn’t missed it like you thought that she may have done in the heat of the moment. And, as usual, you try to break the tension with a joke.

“He was a Spanish bear. I wanted him to understand me.”

Alexia doesn't laugh but instead turns to you again, “I feel stupid.” 

There's that vulnerability again.

“No. Never feel stupid Alexia, you are the most intelligent person I have ever met.” you reply, instantly, and turn your body to hers,

“You didn’t tell me that you spoke spanish… everything I have said…”

“I meant to! Honestly I did, I mean I told you I lived in Peru for two years.” she raises her eyebrow at you… “Ale they speak Spanish in Peru.” “Oh.”

Her eyes drop down to the floor and you can’t physically allow that look of sadness to sit on her face for a moment longer.

“I think you’re more beautiful in the mornings too.” you whisper, the only noise around you the crackling of the drying embers around you.

Alexia looks up at this, eyes somewhat, hopeful? And it's that look that gives you the belief that maybe maybe she feels the same way?

“Si? Even though you made me smell like garlic?” she asks, before the syllable is even out of her mouth you reply. “Si, tan hermoso. Aunque tal vez sea más hermoso ahora con la luz del fuego.”

You stood in front of a bear today.

But the scariest moment of your day is as you move your head towards hers, slowly, more frightened of this rejection than any wild animal.

You look deeply into her eyes and the permission you seek is gained there, she gives you a small nod as she closes the distance between you both. Her lips finally meet yours in a gentle and sweet kiss.

It's like fireworks have gone off in your stomach. 

Your mouth tingles where it presses against hers, your lips softly encase her lower lip and you hear her squeak of satisfaction which is the cutest fucking thing you have ever heard in your life.

You kiss as though you have all the time in the world. It is gentle and slow. Until it is not. And then you kiss like a pair of horny teenagers as it deepens and you groan into her mouth as her tongue seeks permission in yours.

You would have continued all night had mother nature not intervened. 

You’re good with your senses and you hear the fizz of the fire going out before you feel the drops of rain on your skin. You pause your movements and look deep into Alexia's eyes.

“Y hueles deliciosa” you whisper, enjoying the way her eyes crinkle as you make her laugh.

“Will you sleep with me?” you ask, her eyes widen in panic at your question and it takes your lust-addled brain a moment to catch up, “wait. No! No Lo siento, no soy un asqueroso! I mean. Will you stay with me tonight in my hammock? No funny business, I promise!”. 

Your hands move off the taller girls hips where they seem to have found themselves as she settled onto your lap, and you hold them high in surrender.

Alexia saw you face a bear today.

And the look on your face now is more panicked than it was then. 

She smiles at you, god she has it bad she thinks.

“Si, I will, and… maybe some funny business?”

You’re lucky that your bark of laughter doesn’t wake up any of your campmates.

Content that the rain which is now falling more heavily will take care of the fire, you rush the blonde to your hammock, lifting the tarpaulin above her head so she could duck down and she settles herself into the material like a seasoned pro.

You open up your sleeping bag and turn it into a blanket which will cover you both as she opens up her arms and you settle into them. It’s pitch black in the tent and you feel as though your other senses are working to make up for it. The rain patters against the plastic sheet above you and you enjoy the sound as you enjoy the warmth beneath you, the hammock still swaying gently.

You shuffle in the blondes hold, moving so that you can lie stomach to stomach. Your face close to hers, you exchange gentle kisses and enjoy the feeling of her hands on your back as you gently scratch against her scalp.

Your head on her chest as sleep starts to take you, still enjoying the heat of her body and the ministrations of her hands which have moved beneath your t-shirt.

“Maybe the outdoors isn’t so bad.” you hear her whisper as sleep takes hold. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Life is funny sometimes.

You think to yourself.

You think about how you got here.

Not 24 hours ago stood in Arles, a minibus packed with footballers in front of you, and, in most cases, gawking at you, faces pushed against the windows, comically, as Ingrid moved through the inside of the bus, slapping heads and pulling them back into their seats.

You’d held Alexia's hands. You’d followed her lead this morning and since you both woke up and made breakfast at the campfire, she hadn’t stopped being affectionate, seemingly, no hint of hiding her affections from her teammates.

She’d hung behind with you and helped you pack up camp, as you both spent what you thought potentially was your last morning together.

It was light, you both had laughed easily and teased each other relentlessly.

Until that moment, when reality struck. You, due to fly back home to England in a few hours, and Alexia, about to board a bus which would take her miles away from you.

You’d already scribbled your number onto a trail mix wrapper and secured it into her hand. She had promised to message as soon as she could and you had promised to keep in touch, trying to keep the tears that teased your eyes at bay as you settled your face into her warm palm. 

But it hadn’t felt right.

It wasn’t fair. It was too soon. This had felt too right.

So you hadn’t been able to control yourself, as you faced her back as she boarded the bus when you asked; “Hey, Ale?” she’d turned and you knew you hadn’t misplaced that look of hope in her eyes, “Have you ever been to an 82nd birthday party?”

The grin that overtook her face could only be matched by yours.

So here you now found yourself. Standing in your nan’s garden under a gazebo as the English rain lightly drizzled, only 2 hours fashionably late for the event you actually arrived back in England for 4 days ago.

As your brother had opened the door earlier, you laughed at the shock on his face when he took Alexia in. All blonde, lean and mediterranean and very out of place in the middle of the drizzle of the English lake district.

Your whole extended family had popped up behind your brother, smiles and coy grins on their faces. Your mum broke the stunned silence at your arrival, more specifically, at the blonde by your side.

“I’ll put the kettle on.”

Alexia's face broke out into a huge grin that literally warmed your heart.

“I know how to do that!” she had replied, excitedly, her spanish accent thick.

Well, maybe not that out of place.

fin.  

[leighsartworks216]

Ominiscience

Sylus x gn!Reader

I just love when Sylus gets to protect MC from others

Warnings: unwanted advances, alcohol mention, protective Sylus, Mephisto keeping an eye on you, pet names, swearing, established relationship

Word Count: 1,009

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Wish you could’ve come with me. It’s boring here without you :(

You sigh as you send the text, leg bouncing as you thank the bartender for your drink. There’s no alcoholic sting when you take a sip, but you don’t expect there to be. You do have to drive back home, after all. Or maybe you’d risk the drive to the N109 Zone, just to see Sylus.

Tara invited you out to a bar to celebrate a mission success. And despite helping you in that success, you didn’t want to risk the leader of Onychinus being in Linkon around other Hunters. But you also didn’t want to disappoint Tara, especially when you’d been spending so much time in the N109 Zone when you aren’t working. You didn’t want her to think you didn’t enjoy her company or value her friendship.

Except, she got swept up by a cute guy five minutes after sitting down. They smiled together and laughed as they danced to the music, holding hands and swaying close like they’d known each other for years. And you were left at the bar to nurse virgin mocktails and cling to every message he sends you.

Awe, poor kitten. Shall I send Mephisto to keep you company?

You can’t help grinning.

For company, or for target practice?

“Hey, gorgeous.” You startle and turn toward the voice. A man gestures to the stool beside you with a smirk that makes your skin crawl. He looked completely normal, even a little handsome, but something about the way his eyes looked at you had your senses on high alert. “This seat taken?”

You glance down the row of seats. There are quite a few open, further away and a safe distance from you. “No, but neither are any of those.”

He laughs at your comment and sits down, leaning his elbow on the counter and barely glancing at the bartender when he orders. You shift your drink closer.

“I like a seat with a view.”

Your phone buzzes again. You start to pick it up so you can answer the new message, hoping your clear lack of interest will get this stranger to leave you alone, but another hand grabs it and slams it back onto the bar, trapping your hand with it. His grip is relentless, squeezing your fingers together uncomfortably as he leans closer. You smell the alcohol from his drink on his breath.

“It’s rude to ignore someone, sweetheart,” he chastises. “What’s the matter, you got a boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

He chuckles. “I don’t believe you.”

Your phone begins ringing, vibrating against your crushed hand while it plays a silly tune, one you’d picked out just to annoy Sylus. The man snickers. “What kind of ringtone is that? Is your friend calling? She must be cute, too, huh?”

“You can answer it if you want,” you say, taking on an air of confidence. “Maybe she’ll think you sound pretty cute, too.”

He grins, eyes studying your hand beneath his as he considers the offer. Your heart is leaden in your chest. If he doesn’t answer and Sylus doesn’t threaten him into the next lifetime, you don’t know what else to do. The bartender’s back is to you as he talks with another customer, and Tara is probably too engrossed in her new admirer to notice your struggle.

“Alright,” he finally agrees. You try not to breathe a sigh of relief just yet as he releases you and you hand over the device. The idiot doesn’t even bother checking the call photo background, a stolen snapshot of Sylus with snow in his hair and fireworks lighting up his face. He just accepts and brings it right up to his ear, smiling at you confidently. “Hey, cutie.”

You bite your lip to fight a growing laugh from bubbling up as you watch in real time as his face changes through several different emotions.

At first, he’s just confused when a man’s voice answers the call. Then pissed. He’s glaring at you when he starts to hang up, but stops and listens again. The anger flickers into worry for a second. A split second. Enough time for his mind to try to rationalize that the words, the threats, coming in from the receiver aren’t real and can’t possibly happen to him. And then it settles. Color drains from his face. His eyes are wide, glancing from you to the people around him helplessly, clutching the phone with both hands. You can’t hear Sylus’s voice, but you wonder if he’s using Mephisto to relay the man’s movements.

It’s only been a couple minutes when the man slowly pulls the phone from his ear and holds it out to you, cradling it in both hands like a highly reactive bomb. He stammers until he finally whimpers out, “It’s- It’s for you. S-Sorry.”

You take the phone and he trips over himself trying to get away, frantically searching the crowd for the mysterious stranger that threatened his life seconds ago.

You hold it up to your ear. “Thank you for that.” You take a relaxed sip of your drink.

Sylus chuckles. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“Mhm.” You glance over your shoulder. “Where’s Mephisto hiding?”

“Outside. Up a little, look to your right… There you are, sweetie,” he purrs. Mephisto’s red eyes shine like rubies through the glass of a high-set window. You can’t see his body, only the movement of his eyes as he jerks his head around. “As I was saying, have you had dinner yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Good. Name anything you want. The chef will have it ready by the time you get here.”

You turn away and smile, trying to hide just how dopey it looks from him. “Do you have any work to do tonight?”

From the smile in his own voice, you’re sure he saw it anyway. “Just say the word and my schedule is cleared.”

“Which word?”

There’s an anticipatory pause. You can imagine the feel of his breath on your ear as he whispers into the microphone. “Please.”

[plussizeficchick]

Agora Hills | Eren x Chubby!Reader

Ahhh! It’s part 2 to The Weekend! I didn’t expect y’all to like the first part as much so I’m hoping this lives up to y’all’s expectations😂

Warnings: Mean!Eren (but really only to Mikasa and Historia) Pick Me!Mikasa and Historia (they will be dealt with) smut(cunnilingus, P in V, mentions of fingering, panty sniffing)

She felt like she was going to be sick.

How could he?

How could you?

She cried in your arms, she poured her heart out to both of you and this is what you do?

No.

It had to be you.

You must have tempted him, this was just some elaborate revenge for her talking to that one guy at Connie’s party a while back. 

Because no way her Eren would be caught dead with you.

— —

Mikasa’s knees were ready to give way.

All throughout the day, you and Eren had been carefully avoiding her but it was time for your daily meetup at lunch with the rest of the group, so she’ll give you an opportunity to explain yourselves and if she’s willing, she’s open to forgiveness.

Oh how she wishes she’d have just skipped lunch.

She was seated next to Historia in the cafe, along with Armin, Jean and Connie awaiting the arrival of you both. She needed Historia for moral support, having told her of your treachery. Historia wasn’t nearly as upset as Mikasa had expected, but she chalked it up to shock because honestly, she was shocked too.

As soon as the doors to the cafeteria open, everyone’s head turns, the sight of Eren holding the door open for you coming into view.

He walks in after you, eyes raking over your figure as if he didn’t help you pick out your outfit for the day.

It was a simple halter top and mini skirt combo paired with some short, heeled sandals, but that wasn’t what brought the smirk to his lips.

No, it was the pretty gold anklet with his initials and the gorgeous emerald necklace that he’d paired with it that brought the smile to his face.

You looked so pretty with his claim on you.

You both saunter up to your friends, hand in hand, before Eren pulls out your seat for you, taking the one beside you for himself before you both engage in conversation with the guys.

“So, does no one see a problem?” Historia asks incredulously. Has she entered the fucking twilight zone?

Armin shrugs, doing a onceover of the table, “I don’t think so. Everyone’s here right?” He asks, getting a brief nod from everyone.

Not that you and Eren were paying attention. You both were too busy giggling amongst yourselves.

“Eren?” Mikasa squeaks out. She couldn’t believe that after all this time, he’d just throw her away. And for you of all people?

Oh no.

She’s worked too hard, put up with too much to just let him go.

He begrudgingly looks away from you, his mood immediately dampening as he addresses her. “Yeah?” He sighs. 

She ignores his disposition, wanting to know just what the fuck you two had going on. “Can I talk to you? Privately?” She grits out through clenched teeth. Eren rolls his eyes before turning his attention back to you, playing with the emerald pendant, “Nah, why? What happened?” 

Mikasa blushes as everyone turns their gazes towards her, the tension palpable. “What happened? What happened, Eren, is you parading her around like she’s your girlfriend when we-” “When we what, exactly? Look Mikasa, you’re a nice girl but (Y/N)’s different. She makes me feel some type of way whenever I’m with her. We just click in a way that you and I never could.” He cuts her off.

Her heart breaks, tears threatening to fall when she casts a glance at her friends, but the way they avert their eyes has her stomach dropping further. “You guys knew?” She barely manages to get out. 

Connie and Jean mumble affirmations, but Armin stutters out a reply, “But not for that long, Mikasa!” He squeaks out, however, Historia’s had enough, “That’s enough! Eren, you’re being cruel. You can’t possibly want her over me-Mikasa!” She exclaims. Eren snarls, his temper spiking. “I’m getting real tired of you guys talking about my girl like that, so I’m only going to say this once,” He grits out. “Being cruel is pretending to be Mikasa’s friend when you’ve been begging me to fuck you behind her back. Being cruel is telling me that Mikasa’s a pathetic bitch and that I can do better than her. And you know what? You’re right! And you’re fucking looking at her, so the both of you can fuck off out of my face.” He practically spits at her. Historia’s jaw drops and Mikasa just wants the earth to swallow her whole. 

She rushes out of the cafeteria, Historia hot on her heels, spewing apologies. Eren turns to you, thumb brushing over your cheek softly. “You okay, baby?” He asks, pressing a brief peck to your lips. “Yeah, just not very hungry anymore.” You sigh. Eren frowns, but you’re sure to reassure him. “It’s not because of them, babe. Just wanna be alone with you right now.” You murmur, running your manicured hand along his arm. 

He smirks, now eager to get you both out of there. “Hey, we’re gonna rain check on the lunch.” Eren announces to your friends. He helps you out of your seat, guiding you out of the cafeteria.

“He’s fucking whipped.” Connie jokes, gaining laughs from the two men.

— —

You both barely made it past the threshold of his dorm before you were on each other, tongues darting into each other’s mouths eager to gain dominance.

Eren presses you against the door, hiking you up to press his clothed cock against your cunt. “You don’t think anybody noticed, right?” He mumbles into your mouth, the taste of you too good to pull away from. “You fingering me under the table?” You ask. He nods, pulling back slightly to move his attention to your neck, the previous love bites fading to make room for new ones. You shrug, moaning as he sucks on a particularly sensitive spot, your panties dampening further as a result, “Who cares?”

Eren chuckles at your neediness, moving to press a searing kiss to your lips as he walks you both to his bedroom. He carefully placed you down, pulling back fully to look at you.

He doesn’t think you fully grasp the hold you have on him, but there’s plenty of time to convince you.

He moves to peel away the tight mini skirt and top you have on, your lacy thong being the only thing keeping him from your warm center. You whine for him to get undressed, the sight of his hard abs and tattoos causing your pussy to clench around nothing. He obliges you, removing his hoodie and jeans along with his boxers before he rejoins you on the bed.

He runs a finger over your soaking panties before pulling them down, strings of your arousal sticking to the small piece of cloth.

The next moment is hazy to the both of you, all Eren knows is that he’s not going to be able to go one day without your pussy on his face.

He dives in, his tongue immediately lapping up the juices that escaped from your slick hole before trailing up to your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves. You whine, clit throbbing under his ministrations. He takes long, languid licks up and down the slit before flicking his tongue over the bud. You gasp as you cum with a shout, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

He’s faring no better, the way your thick thighs clamped over his head, squeezing him further into your cunt has him rutting against the sheets, the tip dripping pre. He pulls away when the need for air becomes necessary, taking in gulps of air while nuzzling into your fupa.

“You’re so pretty, baby. So fucking sexy.” He mumbles into the soft skin. You run your fingers through his unruly hair, the soft locks falling from your fingers. “Want you to fuck me, ‘Ren.” You whine out, aching to feel the length of him stretch you out. He complies, pressing kisses along your body before he presses a sweet kiss to your lips, the taste of you still dancing on his tongue.

He uses the kiss to distract you from the slight sting of his cock stretching your cunt. He hisses at the feel of your warm cunt wrapping around his cock, the slickness of your juices making the glide into you that much easier.

He sits up slightly, fucking into you as he reaches over you to grab something, groaning and cock twitching as he grabs his prize. You barely manage to look up to see your panties pressed against his nose, tongue laving over the damp patch.

You cry out at the sight, your pussy quivering as you pull him into a messy kiss, sucking his tongue into your mouth. You both whine into each other's mouths, declarations of love spilling from each other's lips as you both reach your high. You clamp down around Eren, your cunt gushing and clenching as you coat his cock in your essence and he fills you up, warm cum painting your walls white.

You’re panting, the exertion catching up to you both as you snuggle into each other, your fingers tracing over the tattoo with your name on it. You’re tired, but you know it’s only a matter of time before you’re at it again.

It’s a good thing neither of them could keep him satisfied.

— —

Taglist:@xogabbiexo @kinq-sleazee @dabilovesme @sintiva @blkchxrryblyss @tenyaiidasslut @luna-indigoduh @bookwormsenpai @bl--ankhaeji @thicksimpx @namjoonswifeyy @nasty-quillz @haikyutiehoe @musicisme333 @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @celi-xxmoon @jesus-son-of-god @you-need-namjesus

[shunsuiken]

DON’T FORGET WHO’S TAKING YOU HOME (and in whose arms you’re gonna be).

pairing(s). kaeya, childe, ayato, kaveh, neuvillette x fem!reader

genre. fluff

wc. 200-400 for each character

an. AND SING WITH ME 🎤🎤 SO DARLING SAVE THE LAST DANCE FOR MEEE michael buble literally left no crumbs with this song i had to write about it omg + ALSO happy valentines day everyone !!! i may not have a valentine this year but im happy to post this for anybody feeling a little lonely today !! you are so so loved okay ?!!! come and collect a kiss from me before reading on 💋 MUAH have a lovely valentines day !!! <33

kaeya alberich

you’re really good at hiding, kaeya thinks to himself with a huff and a smile on his lips. searching all over the plaza for you was making him break a sweat in his navy blue tuxedo. with another turn around the corner he decides to remove his tuxedo jacket for the time being, folding it over his arm to carry instead.

“no, no, no klee! stop it! you can’t play with your things here, if you blow things up-”

“-master jean will put me in solitary confinement…”

oho, kaeya recognises these two voices very well. he finds it so hilarious that at the end, his feet lead him right to you! not even a single thought was processed as he turned the corner two seconds ago but here you are.

he hides behind the large potted plant, listening to the conversation you and the beloved spark knight share. he stays there until it becomes quiet between you two.

“kaeya, you peacock, i know it’s you.”

kaeya lets out a baffled noise, finally showing himself from behind the plant, offended by the ridiculous nickname you gave him. “snowflake, how dare you?”

“klee, don’t eavesdrop on people like this man when you grow older, yeah?” you point animatedly at your lover, who’s folding his arms and scoffing at you.

klee only giggles, nodding her head. “i gotta go find albedo now!” you watch as she skips off towards the plaza, waving goodbye.

you then turn towards your next problem that stands behind you. “i thought you were out dancing?”

“i was, but they’ll start playing the last dance soon and how can my last dance not be with you?” your lover walks towards you, pulling you closer by your waist with his free arm. you immediately wrap your arms around his neck, smiling softly at his intentions.

you hear an announcement echoing from the plaza before you can reply, and you figure it might have been mika because of how timid the voice sounded.

“good evening everyone, please bring all your friends and company over for the last dance of the night!”

“sounds like our queue.” you slide your arms off his shoulder to grab his hand, pulling him with you without warning.

“oh snowflake, hold on-” kaeya almost trips on air and the sounds of your laughter bounce off the concrete floor and walls as you drag him down the staircase leading to the plaza.

childe

you can never refuse ajax’s request for a dance, because he won’t take no for an answer. especially when it comes to dancing. your feet hurt so much. you’re so ready to just fall on top of your bed and go to sleep. but the only thing that keeps you wide awake, heart pumping and everything is the look on your lover's face.

his gaze usually has this inhumane and dull look to them, but you find that whenever he looks at you or when he participates in something he loves, his gaze finally twinkles. it works so miraculously too. like all of a sudden life was returned to him and he could see.

the smile on your lips grows when you think about this. you think it’s sweet how you’re one of the reasons that the life in his eyes returns.

ajax notices the tighter grip you hold on his forearm, making his lips curl in curiosity. “what’s going on in your head, baby?”

you zone in on the situation, you’re still dancing, and you shake your head in response. “nothing, ajax.” you want to keep your thoughts to yourself but when ajax smiles at you like that, with the most expectant look on his face, you can’t help yourself. “actually, i just thought about the dance.”

he twirls you around to the music before connecting arms with you again. “you just thought about the dance?” his brow quirks in amusement.

“no, no not like that,” you say with a sheepish chuckle before continuing, “i just thought that this number is the longest one so far.”

“well of course,” ajax responds with an eye smile. “it’s the last song.”

“it… is?” you look up at ajax while trying to fight the urge to look anywhere else.

if this is the last song… and you’re dancing with him… then that can only mean-

when the choreography allows ajax to pull you against his chest, he leans down so he can whisper in your ear, “you will be my final dance partner tonight.”

kamisato ayato

these few days at fontaine have been strumming the strings of your heart like a guitar—ayato has been spending so much time with you that you’re beginning to think of such ridiculous conclusions. his eyes that linger on your face, his hand that hovers on the small of your back when leading you out of a hall and it’s just these little things that he does with you that makes you want to claw an entire curtain off its rod. one time he even poured you a glass of wine before taking a sip with the same glass—it’s like he’s forgotten he’s the yashiro commissioner!

thoma and ayaka barely bat an eye. but also, they’ve known ayato for much longer than you have since you were a recent (and lovely) addition to the little family. so… perhaps this is just how he acts?

“uh-huh, when he’s courting someone that is.”

the sentence that thoma said offhandedly is the only thing that rings through your mind. but your thoughts must’ve shone through your expression because ayato is quick on his feet to smoothly guide you off the dance floor, gloved hand still holding yours as he brings you to a less crowded area—the balcony.

“you appeared to be distracted, that’s why i pulled us away,” ayato breaks the silence and your train of thoughts.

he’s still holding my hand—is what you’re repeating in your head. your eyes can barely focus on a single object within your field of vision. your bottom lip quivers at the revelation you’re carefully starting to uncover.

“i am not distracted,” you inhale sharply when you accidentally meet ayato’s gaze. “i…” your brows crease as you try to get words out of your mouth.

ayato brings your hand up to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand and you can physically feel the blood rush up to your fingertips. “would my lady like to return to the hotel?”

your voice leaves your throat in but a hoarse whisper, “what did you just call me?”

you hear a chuckle from ayato and it makes you snap your head around in embarrassment. this new term of endearment rolls off his tongue way too easily, the rascal must have been practicing!

“oh no, no, no, my lady, you must look at me,” a grin appears on ayato’s face at your attempts to hide your expression and when he finally gets you to look at him, you’re caged between his arms.

“why would you call me that?” you whine at his teasing.

“well i just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore,” ayato murmurs, a dust of pink decorating his cheeks. “will you allow me to call you that?”

kaveh

three hours. it’s been three hours since you and kaveh decided to learn a cute couples dance routine ‘for funsies’. whose idea was this again? weren’t you two supposed to be just friends? doesn’t kaveh have a client meeting tomorrow that he should be preparing for?

“so we do this—then this and then we’re supposed to oh—!”

the silence is deafening. the song playing in the background fades as you both stare at each other, even mirroring the same expression. eyes as wide as saucers. lips just inches from connection.

kaveh’s breath fans over your lips and you can hear the audible gulp he makes at the closeness. he’s also entirely aware that the red in his cheeks has reached his ears by now. while you, on the other hand, have started hearing the percussion of your heart in your own eardrums.

“o-oh…” your legs are frozen in place and hang on a second, why haven’t either of you let go?

his hand is respectfully sat on your waist, while the other is occupied holding your hand. you hear him inhale and it grabs your attention before you can get anymore lost in his gaze. his gaze observes your lovely face, eyes flickering from one feature to another as he whispers, “has anybody ever told you you’re pretty up close?”

you shake your head ever so slightly. “no.”

kaveh likes this answer, humming as he ponders for a moment.

your eyes sparkle when that handsome smile of his appears on his lips. he chuckles shortly at your expression, your palm feels so warm when connected with his.

“i’m glad i’m the first to tell you.”

neuvillette

“oh dear, neuvillette,” you chuckle softly, walking towards him as he takes another sip of his water. he stands in a more secluded corner of the hall, briefly greeting guests with a nod of the head. which is why he stands out like a sore thumb—arctic white hair, designer blue suit and a piercing gaze.

but that gaze doesn’t fool you. the dragon sovereign is probably pondering on retiring for the night and is only still present to keep up with appearances.

“yes, lady y/n?” it’s to nobody’s surprise that he heard you from metres away.

when he turns around, your eyes immediately land on the problem you’ve sensed since you returned from the dancefloor.

“your tie,” you reply, standing in front of his figure, nonchalantly raising your hands in preparation to adjust the garment. “will you allow me to fix it?”

the gears in neuvillette’s mind pause abruptly at your question. he certainly has no problem readjusting his own tie. his hands aren’t holding anything else other than his cup of water—which he can definitely put down on a nearby table!

but why can’t he bring himself to say no?

the ‘of course’ leaves his lips faster than he would have liked, but that’s no matter, your expression shows no sign of displeasure. instead, he watches your sweet smile brighten.

when your fingers reach the tie, neuvillette notices how you tiptoe to reach him. so he does what any normal person would do—he leans down.

it catches you off guard, the tips of your fingers just slightly grazing against his neck in the process. you profusely apologise in whispers to which neuvillette can only chuckle at.

“it is no trouble lady y/n, i appreciate the kind gesture.” the corner of neuvillette’s lips curve, his hands neatly tucked behind him as he allows you to redo his tie.

neuvillette’s lips only seem to further break into a smile as he watches you pat on the tie in completion.

“there, all finished.” you look up at the iudex, chuckling, “you ought to learn how to do this yourself.”

neuvillette hums, “perhaps you could teach me.” he takes your hand, gently brushing his lips against your knuckles before kissing it. “but for now a dance shall suffice, would you care to join me?”

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 4

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

CW: POV depiction of anxiety and dissociation, How It's Made, reader character wearing a wig (positive, protective style), Soap (nosy), mention of sex toys, Simon Riley Is Honesty Just A Big Guy (TM),

Simon and Price are gone for less than a minute before you feel awkward. You’re almost done with the water, so you look around for the TV remote. It’s Gaz, absurdly pretty for some kind of international British SWAT team, who hands it to you with a half smile before wandering off, you assume to the bathroom.

That leaves you clicking through the TV while Soap does something on his phone. All of the local channels are in German, you know, so you look for something to stream. You chance a sidelong glance at Soap, but he’s already looking at you. He grins when you make eye contact.

“So yer LT’s girl, then?”

Fuck, that’s not a question you know how to answer. “Um.”

“Leave it, Soap,” Gaz says, returning from the bathroom. He smiles at you as he pockets his phone. “You don’t have to tell us anything you’re not comfortable with. Lieutenant Riley’s a private person, we understand.”

“That’s… it’s okay.” You tap into the PictureTime channel, since it’s not one you usually have access to. As you browse through the educational options - ooh, How It’s Built! - you say, “I think we’re both… a bit surprised to see each other here.”

“I can’t imagine,” Gaz says, sitting down at the other end of the couch. “Oh, I’ve not seen this one on puzzles and cheesecake.”

You tap into it, because you like puzzles, cheesecake, candles, and paintbrushes. Just in time to finish your water bottle. The armchair is a bit narrow and awkward, so you wiggle the cushion from behind your back so you can plop it, and yourself, onto the ground. You shuffle your legs to start your warm up as the theme song plays.

“How'd'ye come to answerin’ LT like yer military?” Soap asks. “’Acknowledge’, ‘acknowledged’, all o’ that?”

“Oh,” you answer, without thinking about it. “That’s just our protocol, to make sure I understand his directions.”

“’E’s givin’ you enough directions to need protocols?” He gives you a considering once-over. “Interestin’. Impressive that it held up in an emergency. That takes practice.”

Shit. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“’S he your, what’er they called? Dominant partner, then?”

God, Simon, why didn’t you take this one with you? “I’m… not at liberty to say?”

“Leave her alone, Soap,” Gaz says, exasperated. He tosses a throw pillow at Soap’s head. “She’s in shock, Simon’s trying to keep her calm and comfortable.”

“Ghostie adopts a civilian an’ ah’m supposed to have nae questions?” Soap grins at you. “She’s got a signal if she dinnae want to talk. Four fingers, right?”

“Bother Ghost about it, later,” Gaz says. He turns to you. “Do you know what you want to eat? There’s a few places open.”

Soap doesn’t pester you, after that. The three of you settle on Mediterranean food, and then they summarily leave you alone. Gaz seems content to watch the show, though Soap watches you do your floor stretches curiously.

You could probably have moved to another stretch a while ago, but you’re still in your work slacks and blouse. You think longingly of the yoga pants you laid out on your bed before leaving for meetings. And then you cringe to think of Simon coming in to sweep through the room and pack up all of your things. You hadn’t packed a lot, but you’d unpacked into the space to make yourself comfortable.

You realize that your sex toy is charging in the bedside table and cringe. You hope he doesn’t notice it. It’s good quality, but you can always buy another one.

And then you start to worry about your phone. You’d left your personal in the room because of the time zone change slowing down all of your personal messages. You’d lost your work phone and computer today with… everything that happened. Were people trying to get a hold of you? Had news of the incident made it to the US? Would Simon see your embarrassing phone background?

You resist the urge to get up and pace. Instead, you settle into butterflying your legs.

“You need more water?” Gaz’s voice startles you, but you nod and he passes a bottle to you on the floor. “Cap says that they’re done with the official stuff, he’s grabbing food while Ghost grabs your things. Probably less than an hour before they get back.”

Your anxiety shouts that that isn’t enough time. But since you can’t definitively answer the question For what?, you take a breath and let it out slowly. “Okay.”

Maybe it’s because your heart is beating a little faster, muscles a bit warmer, but you have trouble settling Into the show. Your mind races. You have to remind yourself to relax, then have to clamber to your feet and shuffle off to the bathroom because you relaxed your pelvic floor a little too much.

Your eyes in the mirror are a little too wide. The wig - every time you wear a good one, you almost forget you’re wearing it - is holding up admirably, at least. It feathers around your face, a bit squished where you slept on it. But with the smudged eyeliner and mascara you can kind of pretend you’re in an action movie.

Thank goodness agent Ghost rescued me and the other hostages, you think to yourself, pouting your lips dramatically as you wash your hands.

The last time you washed your hands there was a dead body on the floor.

“Nope,” you say aloud, practically flinging yourself into the bedroom. “Nope. Nope.”

You pace in a tight circle, kicking the door closed when you catch Gaz and Soap looking at you with concerned eyes. Two circuits later, the room is too small, so you open the door again and shuffle out to sit in the armchair again, one leg pulled up for you to wrap your arms around.

Throwing your mind into action shots of specialty machinery, you try to force yourself to settle. Your whole body feels like it will shake apart if you pay too much attention to it, so you don’t pay it any attention at all. The episode ends and rolls into the next one, so you learn about bird cages and automated pharmacy drones. You hear Gaz say something soft, and Soap answers, the burr of his voice just as quiet, mixing pleasantly with the murmur of the narrator.

You must lose time, again, because the next thing you know, Simon is crouching in front of you again. Big hands smooth over your arms, and he shushes you as you jump.

“Got y’r stuff,” he says. “Where’s your head at?”

You open your mouth, close it. Hold up four fingers.

“Mm, day’s catchin’ up, again. Go into the bedroom, get changed. No zippers or clasps. Buttons okay. Acknowledge.”

“Bedroom, change clothes,” you confirm, heaving a big sigh. “Comfy. Acknowledged.”

He helps you stand, and you can’t help but tip forward to put your face into his chest. He smells a little. Like stale sweat and gunpowder. His arms stop yours when they come up for an automatic hug.

“Go change,” he whispers into the top of your head, “An’ I’ll get rid of the rest of ‘em, eh?”

The haze around you pops. That’s the only way to describe it. One minute, everything is distantly fuzzy, and the next thing you know you can feel the circulation of the air in the room and his heartbeat against your forehead. The TV is quieter, and you can hear Price and Gaz and Soap talking between themselves.

“Acknowledged,” you say into his sternum. “Gotta go change.”

He has to gently guide you around his bulk. But eventually you shuffle back into the bedroom. Your suitcase is waiting for you in the far corner, and it doesn’t take you long to dig out your lounge wear. Soft, thin pants with cartoon dogs on them and an oversized tee you got from a fundraiser. And then you take both off because that’s not sexy.

Why didn’t I pack nicer stuff? Can I play off these lacy panties as sleep wear? He saw it all and packed it, he probably clocked those as the only sexy thing I have. You shake your head at yourself. He said to wear something comfortable. He knows what you have. This is fine.

Your friend’s son’s basketball mascot grins up at you. You decide to compromise and switch the shirt for a black cami you usually wear under a nice blouse.

When you peek out of the room, Simon’s in the middle of the couch, and he’s blocked one end by dragging the table closer to where he’s sitting. His jeans have been traded for black sweats, but you can’t tell if his black shirt is new or not. Somehow, he looks bigger, but in a nice way. Softer. If a brick shit-house could look soft. A brick book nook.

“’Ey, pretty girl,” he says, leaning enough to put an arm across the back of the couch. “Come sit, we’re gonna eat and then we’re gonna talk.”

When you get close, you realize that there’s not enough room for both of you to sit unless you’re half on top of him.

You want to throw yourself entirely into his lap. But you can smell the food now, and you’re so hungry. So you perch as much of your ass on the couch as you can and swing your legs over one of his. You meet his eyes just as his arm comes down across your thighs. His hand cups the outside of your leg in a way that makes you remember what he said.

He’s not letting you go, now.

[lovesickonmybed]

amateur | 18+

masterlist | series masterlist | info abt palestine | donate to gaza

pairing | college roommate! vi x innocent!reader

synopsis | in an attempt to break the tension your roommate suggests a little game of truth or dare that quickly turns humiliating.

warnings | 18+ mdni!! college roommate!vi, innocent!reader, humiliation, underage drinking, an excessive use of 'cupcake', temperature play, college au, dom!vi, sub!reader, possibly ooc vi?, fingering gone wrong, dubcon, foot stuff, a very minor amount of puppy play, panty play, boot worship, masturbation, toys, and hair pulling.

word count | 3.5k

a/n | ahh i'm really excited to be writing again and actually feel good about what i'm putting out!! thank you to @joeloverture for checking this over for me and being the reason i even watched arcane in the first place!! this fic is named after amateur by scene queen btw <3

Nobody expects to sleep with their roommate, and nobody expects to become their roommate's little plaything. When you met Vi you weren’t sure how you’d get along, she was confident and outspoken, you were quiet and reserved. The first week you hardly spoke, that was until she pulled out a brand new bottle of Absolut. She motioned for you to join her on the floor and set out a shot glass for each of you. 

“I feel like I hardly know you, play a little game with me, Roomie,” Vi says as she leans back against her bed, her legs crossed over one another. You were both dressed in your pajamas, Vi in a black tank top and matching sweats, you in Hooters tank top and black shorts. 

“What kind of game are we talking here?” You ask, mirroring her movements from before as you try to get comfortable on the rough carpeted floor.

“A little drinking game that I like to call truth, drink, or dare,” Vi smirks, setting the bottle of Absolut on the floor between the two of you. You stare it down nervously, the closest you’ve gotten to drinking is the one glass of champagne your parents allow you on New Years. 

“Uhh…I-I don’t know. I’m not much of a drinker and is that a real game or-” Before you can finish your sentence Vi cuts you off.

“Yes, it’s a real game…I’ve played it before, alright? Why don’t you give it a few rounds and see how you feel, yeah?” Vi asks, trying her hardest to convince you to play. It’s been a long, very awkward week. You sigh and give in to your need to break the tension between the two of you.

“Okay,” You sigh, “Fuck it, I’ll play. Just don’t make me do something insane or I’m asking for a dorm switch,” You threaten half jokingly. 

“Hell yeah, I can work with that. I guess I should explain the rules, it’s pretty much just truth or dare but if you feel like pussying out you take a shot,” Vi explains excitedly. This might be the happiest you’ve seen her all week. You’re still not entirely sure what her major is but anytime she comes back from class she looks bored out of her mind or simply annoyed that she has to go. The only time you’ve really seen her happy is when she comes back from boxing practice or the gym. You do have to admit that she looks pretty good all sweaty, it makes you just want to-

“Hey! You zoning out on me? Let’s start, cupcake,” Vi says, snapping her fingers in front of your face and literally snapping you out of your almost dirty thoughts about her. Your cheeks heat up at the nickname and you pray she can’t tell you’re blushing. 

“Shit, sorry. Uh yeah, you can start,” You stumble over your words and half pray that she’ll ask you something outrageous so you have an excuse to take a shot, it might help your nerves. 

“I usually let the guest start but if you insist. So, truth or dare?”

You sigh, taking 5 seconds to make up your mind about which to pick. “Uhh, truth.”

She chuckles, “Y’know I should’ve expected you’d pick the safe option. Hmm…I’ll start decently tame. Do you smoke?” 

“Like cigarettes or-” 

Vi laughs loud, “I’ll take that as a no. And no, I’m talking about weed.”

Your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, “S-Sorry…I grew up pretty sheltered I guess.”

“You could say that again, Cupcake.”

You hate how hot your cheeks get when she calls you that. You dig your fingers into the carpet, playing with the rough material to try and get yourself to chill the fuck out. 

“I guess it’s my turn to ask, huh.” You look over at her side of the room hoping something will give you an idea. Her side of the room is covered in posters of bands you’ve never heard of. A cork board with a few pictures from back home sits above her small desk area. There's a girl with blue braids in a couple of the photos and another girl with darker blue hair in the others. You wonder who they are but until you get some alcohol in you it’s unlikely that you’ll ask. “So Vi, truth or dare?” 

Vi smirks, “Why don’t you give me a dare, and make it good.”

You rack your brain for an idea, you haven’t played truth or dare since you were a kid so it’s more difficult than you had anticipated. “Uhh…show me the last thing you looked up.”

Vi rolls her eyes and opens up her phone, “Let me see here…if it’s porn I don’t want to hear any complaints. You asked to see this, Cupcake, just remember that.” Her phone screen illuminates her face as she opens up the safari app. She chuckles and hands her phone over to you to look. Your eyes scan the screen and you sigh with relief. Her last search was ‘Magihjy’ underneath the search bar in blue reads ‘maglight.’ You can’t help but laugh.

“How the hell did Google even know what you were trying to say? And what do you even need a maglight for?” You question.

“Me and Google have a relationship you couldn’t even begin to understand,” She jokes. “And for the maglight, I’ve heard it’s good to keep on you for self defense. My punches and some metal could do some pretty good damage. You also never know when you’ll need a flashlight so…y’know,” Vi explains.

“Huh, good point.”

“My turn again roomie, truth or dare?” Vi asks.

You decide to be a little riskier this round, “Dare.”

Vi smiles, “Thought it would take a lot longer to get you to pick dare. I dare you to…put ice in your panties.” You wish you could wipe the shit eating grin off her face after she says that.

“Seriously, Vi? That’s so childish!” You exclaim, you really don’t want to do it but you also don’t want to break and take the first shot.

“You could always take a shot instead…” She teases, holding the bottle out to you. 

You weigh your options and decide it’s better to just do the dare, you don’t want to look weak over some ice, “Fine.” You get up from your seated position on the floor and walk over to your shared mini fridge where a cup of ice you had gotten only about 30 minutes ago is sitting. You sigh and pick up the cup, “At least watch if you’re gonna make me do this,” You groan.

“Nobodies making you do anything, but if you want an audience so bad I’ll indulge you.” Vi turns to face you as you scrunch up your face in annoyance. You pull your shorts and underwear away from your body and begrudgingly pour a bit of the ice into your pretty pink panties. You yelp as you feel the ice against your skin and Vi laughs at how you squirm uncomfortably. 

“How long do I have to keep this in?” You whine, hating how the ice feels against your skin. It’s starting to melt a bit against the warmth of your skin. You hate that it feels kind of…good against your clit. 

“Hm until it melts sounds pretty good to me, let’s hope you last that long,” Vi smirks.

You shoot her a glare as you sit back down, shifting uncomfortably and trying your hardest to not let a little whimper slip out. “I’m so getting you back for this.”

“And I’m looking forward to it, cupcake.”

“Vi, truth or dare?” You ask, the annoyance clear in your voice. You catch her giggling at your discomfort and you shoot her a glare. 

“Truth,” Vi says with a smirk. 

“Tell me an embarrassing story, and I don’t mean some bullshit story about how you tripped in front of a crush. Give me something good. It’s the least you could do considering there’s ice actively melting in my underwear,” Your anger makes you ramble and all it does it make Vi laugh.

“Okay! Okay! Calm down, don’t get your panties in a twist,” She laughs. She leans back on her palms and looks up at the ceiling as she tries to recall an embarrassing story. She sighs and makes eye contact with you, “There was a girl back home I was dating for a bit. She was way more experienced than I was, I mean I was a fuckin’ virgin at the time. And she asks me to finger her,” Vi’s cheeks start to turn pink, “I hadn’t even tried to finger myself yet. But, I wanted to impress this pretty girl I had already spent an hour making out with and grinding on so I said I would. So there I am with her in my lap, pretty legs spread wide just for me. I’m doing good…at first. Massaging her clit, feeling up her tits just how she likes.” It takes everything in you to not whimper, your mind wanders to how you’d look on her lap with her hands between her thighs. You snap out of it as she continues her story. You do your best to look like you’re listening and not fantasizing. 

 “But as soon as it comes time for me to actually finger her it all goes downhill. My virgin fingers end up in the wrong hole, nothing kills the mood quicker than a finger to the urethra,” She laughs. She moves forward and pours herself a shot as you take in what she just said. 

You try to choke out a question, shocked from her confession, “You really-”

Vi cuts you off. “Yep. Was that a good enough story for ya, cupcake?” She asks before she throws back the shot. Her face grimaces as it burns against her throat. 

“Y-Yeah…why’d you take a shot? You told the truth,” You ask, cocking your head in confusion.

“Would you be able to tell a story like that and not have a shot after?” Vi teases, leaning back against her bed.

“Probably not,” you chuckle.

“So, truth or dare?” Vi asks. She sounds confident and that scares you, you know whatever’s coming next will be just as humiliating as the story you made her tell.

“Truth!” You answer a little too quickly and a little too loudly which makes Vi laugh.

“You scared or somethin’?” 

“N-No, I don’t have a reason to be scared. Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“Okay then…tell me something, roomie. You seemed awfully squirmy when I was telling you that story, and don’t bullshit me and tell me it’s just the ice in your panties. I have two questions for you.” You open your mouth to speak but she cuts you off with a glare and a pointed finger, “Ah, don’t tell me I can’t ask two questions when I just told you about the time I accidentally fingered someone's urethra, I earned these two questions.” You can’t really argue with that logic so you sit back and let her proceed.

“First question for ya, are you a virgin?” There’s a smugness in her voice as if she already knows the answer, and you’re sure she does. She runs her tongue over her teeth and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Uh…yeah, I am,” you answer softly, looking down at your lap. 

“I should’ve known, squirmy little thing like you could barely handle hearing the word clit. Anyway, follow up question. Are you into women?” 

You’re a bit shocked by her question, you didn’t expect her to come right out and ask it like that, “Yeah…I-I haven’t done anything with a woman besides kiss though. That was years ago anyway…”

“Do you know how insane it is to me that you got no action in high school? I mean…look at you, you’re hot, cupcake,” Vi rambles, motioning to your body. Your immediate reaction is to hide your face, you look down at the ground and let your hair fall over your face as you feel your cheeks heat up once again. You mumble a soft, “Thanks…” and let silence fall over the room. 

Vi scoots forward a little and smirks as she nudges you with her foot, “Go on, it’s your turn again.” 

“Truth or dare, Vi?”

She smiles, “Truth.”

After her last couple comments you decide to get a little more bold, “How many people have you slept with?” 

Vi holds out her hand and starts counting on her fingers, she gets to 19 before she laughs, “I’m just fucking with ya. I’ve only been with three people. All back in high school. They all said I was great, if you were wondering.” Vi moves a little closer, her foot is leaning against your inner thigh, still a few inches below the hem of your shorts. Your breath catches in your throat.

“Did you top or?” You trail off.

“Sometimes, it depended on what we were both feeling. I like doing whatever will make my partner feel good,” Vi starts to rub her foot against your inner thigh as she continues, “I got pretty good at giving head and other things…do you need me to teach you a thing or two?”

“I-I-” You’re flustered, you don’t even know where to start. The feeling of her rubbing your inner thigh is nice but you want it higher up. You want her to touch you where you need it, where you’re practically pulsating. You finally get the courage to use your words, “Are you a good teacher?”

“The best,” she answers quickly, she moves closer and moves her foot up higher to your clothed cunt. She looks up at you, “As badly as I’d love to put you on your back and eat you out, why don’t we start with a different lesson, something a bit more simple.”

“But what if I want to get put on my back and eaten out?” You half joke. 

“Respectfully, I think you’d come if I even breathed near your clit.” 

You choke on air and start laughing, “Fair enough.”

Vi looks around the room, her eyes landing on her signature combat boots sitting by the door, “You wanna get off tonight I’m assuming?” 

You nod, “Y-Yeah…I do.”

Vi smirks, “Stay sitting there for me.” She gets up from her spot on the floor and goes over to the door. She grabs her boots and slips them on, taking her sweet time lacing them up. She goes over to her nightstand next and grabs her mini wand. She sits on her bed and looks down at you, “Take off your shorts.” 

You’re quick to comply, leaving yourself in a pair of grey panties and your Hooters tank top. You sit on the floor awaiting your next instructions from her. Submission comes natural to you, you want her to tell you what to do, you want to be good for her. 

Vi motions for you to come over to her but as you get up to stand she shakes her head. “Crawl to me. C’mon puppy.” You whimper in response as you sink back down to your knees, you hang your head in embarrassment as you crawl over to Vi. You sit down in front of her boots and look up at her as you sit back on your knees.

“There’s my good girl,” Vi says, reaching down to caress your face. She slides her thumb against your bottom lip and uses it to pull your mouth open. She tilts your head up and leans down, “You’re gonna listen to me if you wanna get off tonight, got it?” You nod dumbly, ready to do whatever she says.

She smiles and pulls away from you, “Kiss my boots.” She leans back on the bed, resting on her palms and smirking down at you. 

“Kiss your boots? Aren’t they dirty? I haven’t seen you clean them once this week.”

“Well it’s a good thing I have a good little puppy like you to get them clean for me, huh?” She mocks.

“Yes ma’am,” you answer bashfully, scooting yourself back before dipping your head down and kissing the tip of her boot. You look up at her for approval and feel your cheeks heat up as she smiles down at you. You kiss her boot all over before moving to the next one. Vi praises you as you do, “Good girl, giving my boots the love they deserve. Maybe they’ll give it back to you if you’re good enough. Bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Pretty little virgin getting her second kiss in such a pathetic way. Bet you’re soaked, huh?” You nod in response, continuing to kiss her boots like you were instructed. Once you feel you’ve kissed it enough you sit back on your knees and wait for your next command. 

Vi looks down at her boots and looks back at you with an almost proud look on her face. “Would ya look at that, pretty girl got them sparkling for me…” Your cheeks heat up once again. She leans down and ruffles your hair as if she’s petting you, “Such a good girl for me. I think I owe you a reward, hm?” She teases.

“Please…I worked hard for it,” you plead. You stick out your bottom lip dramatically and give her puppy dog eyes.

“Oh how could I say no to a face like that,” she chuckles, “Go on mount my boot for me, puppy.”

She doesn’t have to tell you twice, you mount her left boot, you panty clad cunt pressed up against the leather. You wrap your arms around her leg, practically hugging it and look up at her as you start to slowly grind yourself against it. Vi reaches down and grabs your front waistband, she slowly wrenches it up, the fabric forcing itself between your lips in a humiliating yet pleasurable way. Vi holds her grip and nods for you to continue. You bite your lip and smile down at the ground as you grind your cunt against her, the worn out leather is much more pleasurable than you imagined it would be. The added friction of your panties being held taut by Vi makes it easy for you to soak right through that flimsy little pair. 

“You’re doing so well, cupcake. C’mon be a good girl and let me hear how good you feel.” Vi grabs her mini wand and stuffs it into her panties, pressed against her clit. She turns it on and bites her lip to keep herself quiet. 

You follow her orders, no longer holding back your whines and whimpers. “Shit, Vi, it feels so good,” you moan, letting your head fall back. You stop being ashamed of how you’re feeling, of what she’s doing to you. You let go and be vulnerable for her, just like she wants. 

Vi pulls a bit on the waistband of your panties, matching your rhythm. She uses her other hand to keep her wand pressed against her clit. She’s squirming and whimpering on the bed while she helps get you off. You moan her name and continue making a mess of her boot and your panties. At the beginning of this week you would’ve never imagined this is how you’d end up. You squeeze around the fabric and let out a shaky breath, “God, Vi…ngh it’s so good…so fucking good.”

Vi smirks and pulls harder, practically bouncing you on her boot, “Tell me how good it feels, cupcake. Gonna make you ruin my boot and lick it back up all nice and clean. You wanna do that for me, don’t you? Wanna be a good little puppy for me, hm?” 

“Yes, god! G-Gonna ruin your boots…gonna lick it up…gonna be s-so good for you,” you stutter. This feels so much better than when you’d hump your pillow and lazily play with your clit. 

Vi keeps muttering praise, her eyelashes fluttering as she feels herself getting closer. She wrenches your waistband up even higher until it reaches your breasts and pushes her boot harder against your cunt, trying to get you to come. “Make a mess for me, c’mon sweet girl, make a mess for me,” she moans. 

You can’t hold back anymore, falling forward against her leg and moaning her name, a string of curses leave your lips as you come against the fabric of your panties and the leather of her boots. You rest your head against her leg and take a minute to catch your breath. Vi suddenly lets out a high pitched whine and grips your hair as she rides out her orgasm, she whines your name along with some curses and praise for you. You feel her grip loosen and she lays back onto the bed. You slide yourself off her boot, smiling dumbly. “Want me to clean it up, Vi?” You ask softly.

She chuckles from the bed and gives you a thumbs up, “Have at it, cupcake.” 

You lower your head back down to her boot and start licking up your come. You lick her boot till it’s clean and shiny. When you’re done you crawl up on the bed with Vi, laying next to her. Her hair is a mess and her cheeks are flushed, “Thank you for that,” you whisper. Vi smiles and pulls you into her, “Anytime, Cupcake.”

[citrustan]

hello , can i request a drabble wherein oc finds out that their husband politician Namjoon is having an affair with his secretary? like, oc found Namjoon was cheating when oc was watching the news and there are photos of the affair and a recorder phone call of the affair wherein the secretary was talking bad about the oc and Namjoon was just chuckling. thank u in advance ❣️

aaaa i'm excited to write this one, thank you for sending it in!

all eyes on you (knj)

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: angst!! husband!namjoon x wife!reader, mayoral candidate!namjoon x housewife!reader. i imagine namjoon to be older than oc.

warnings: infidelity! oc will be trashed a little ok. you have been warned. the contents of this story quite literally replicate the anon's request. please don't read it if you find the topics offensive and/or unappealing. oh u guys r gonna hate me,,

The living room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the television in the background. You weren't really watching anything in particular--- just letting the flicker of images fill the empty silence around you.

You were perpetually tired.

Your mind wandered, lost in the routine of another evening spent waiting for your husband to return home from wherever he was.

It's not just this though. Namjoon had been distant lately, buried in meetings and late-night phone calls, but you had brushed it off as just part of his life as a politician.

This was the price of being married to a man like him, or so you'd tell yourself.

It was peak campaigning period. Namjoon was running for mayor. So it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to pull all-nighters.

Yet, you couldn't help but stay up for him anyway.

Unintentionally, you switch to a news channel.

Normally, you'd prefer to stay far away from anything to do with politics, as ironic as it sounds with you being married to such an ambitious politician. But, you yearned to feel closer to him, and the news channel his (and sometimes your) name(s) frequented on was the only way for you to satisfy this urge.

You sat on your luxurious yet cold, leather sofa and zoned out, staring into space.

And, oh, what a choice that was.

“Now in. Breaking news on mayoral candidate Mr. Kim Namjoon...”

Just like that, your attention snapped back to the screen when the news anchor mentioned your husband's name. Your heart skipped a beat or two.

In only a second, a thousand thoughts crossed your mind, hundreds of scenarios where he'd hurt himself, or been hurt, maybe his opponent backed out and he was pronounced mayor right this instant, maybe his opponent was hurt, or maybe he was advocating for yet another controversial decision.

Not even close.

What followed wasn’t about a new policy or a political scandal--- it was something way worse.

Photos. Of him. Your husband. Kim Namjoon. With her. His secretary. Bae Joohyun.

They weren’t just working. The pictures showed them at some dinner, leaning in close, laughing in a way that made your stomach churn.

They looked too comfortable, too familiar, as if this was second nature to them.

How cliché.

It felt like the ground beneath you had cracked wide open, eager to swallow you up and wipe every trace of your existence.

It felt like time had stopped. The air around you was stagnant. You couldn't hear anything but a high-pitched ringing in your ear; until what the channel displayed next.

The screen transitioned to a recorded phone call.

You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until you heard Joohyun's voice, dripping with smugness.

“I don’t know how she doesn’t see it. Honestly, it’s almost pathetic,” you hear the woman sneer. “She’s too busy playing the good housewife while you’re here with me. I mean, what does she even bring to the table? It's not like you don't have staff handling your home.”

You don't even have time to digest the attack on you because what came next completely shattered you.

Namjoon's laugh.

It wasn’t just a polite chuckle, not something he gave when uncomfortable. It was genuine, full of warmth--- the laugh you used to think was reserved just for you, not against you.

“She’s a bit clueless, isn’t she?” Your husband murmured, amusement clear in his voice.

The remote slipped from your hand and hit the ten thousand dollar carpet with a dull thud.

Your mind was racing, trying to make sense of it, but nothing could explain what you had just seen and heard. All you could think was a mix of 'Namjoon' 'he hates me' 'what went wrong?' 'how could he dare to do this?' 'Joohyun was so nice to me' and 'I want to lie down.'

The man you loved, and cherished, the man you trusted, had betrayed you. And worse, he had laughed at your expense, as if you were nothing more than a convenient joke?

You can't even begin to feel the humiliation of the news being broken to you by TV emission, because your husband's betrayal had struck you so hard, all your thoughts surrounded only him.

Yet another irony; the news of his betrayal was broken to you so publicly, yet you were so, so lonely.

You can feel your cheeks and ears heating. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you don't cry.

Not yet. You don't know why.

Instead, you continue to sit there, numb, as the rest of the world kept spinning around you.

The hours (two hours) blurred together as you sat in silence, staring at the news segment on repeat.

There was no new information. Just the commentators discussing your life. They had managed to dig into your and Namjoon's past. Then his secretary/mistress' as well.

Yeah, she had been promoted to 'Mr. Kim's mistress.'

They discussed, and agreed with Joohyun's take on you being a lousy wife to Namjoon. How Bae Joohyun is a better fit for him. Then another counter argument stating you were 'the perfect, submissive, wife material' for Namjoon.

They went into detail about Namjoon's past relationships, then moved on to scrutinizing every single interaction he had with a woman since your marriage being made public.

Then, they brought on more guest stars on the show to react to your husband's leaked voice recordings.

You felt hollow, with every heartbeat punctuated by that same mocking laugh playing in your head.

All your devices, phones, iPads, landlines, had been vibrating and ringing non-stop. You wonder if any of those are from Namjoon.

It wasn’t until the door clicked open and you heard Namjoon’s familiar, hurried footsteps that you finally snapped out of your daze. He was almost stomping the floor. Following close behind, you hear another unmistakable 'click-clack' of a pair of high heels.

Your husband stormed in, his tie slightly loosened, looking weary from another long day, along with his fucking secretary, who looks equally fatigued.

He tries to talk, “_____."

Instantly, you shoot him down, "Don't even." You stood up with false-fervour. Not wanting to hear from either of the traitors, you turn to rush to one of the guestrooms.

Before you turned, you caught Joohyun rolling her eyes, her lips pursed in annoyance.

The woman looked more irritated at being dragged into this mess than remorseful. That was the last straw.

You don't quite remember what happened next. You were suddenly so fired up. Your brows furrowed, and your tears had clouded your vision.

Without thinking, you grabbed the nearest thing--- your fluffy house slipper, and hurled it straight at the secretary’s head pulling a stupefying gasp out of your husband.

"What the fuck?!"

note: this hurt to write kinda until i made her throw a slipper at joohyuns head :( ofc this is also kinda raw and unedited bec (you know it) lazy.

do you guys want a follow-up?? perhaps a confrontation? you'll have to be vocal abt it if you do... so talk to me u clowns 😡

BTW i love bae joohyun, i just think she'd be a perfect villain for this story. smart, sexy, bitchy, and intimidating.

[cindol]

BILLS BILLS BILLS !💸

tw— reader a pretty princess, reader is 26 and ino is 22, ino is rich somehow just by being nanami’s assistant don’t ask me!!,

synopsis— ino is the perfect boy for a girl like y/n.

congrats on 600 naj! @honeybleed . 90’s collab event

y/n’s worst trait was how forgiving she could be, even to the most heinous acts to her, her boyfriend now ex boyfriend took great advantage of that. It was sweet at first, him taking her to restaurants no matter how cheap they were but then it turned bitter sweet. Turning from him asking her for extra cash and even getting the audacity to even steal her credit card and use her car on his own whim. Once the breakup soon happened she had to ask the question, ‘where are all good men?’ This question even was on her mind as she was at the newest popular club with her girls.

When ranting to shoko and utahime on the Group FaceTime they took her to the new Blue Eagel club saying how there was a lot of eye candy at this joint. Y/n sipped the glass of pink Whitney she had as shoko and utahime had their usual Hennessy. Shoko smiled seeing the corners of y/n’s lips turned off.”whole lotta’ eye candy right? Get you outta that bummed out mood?” Y/n couldn’t help but make a chuckle come out her throat.”Mm… whole lot of male eye candy..”looking around the club she could see some now. a small group of tall of six men, there was about one that stuck out to her. She could’ve sworn she could see him staring at her from her small table. She was broken out her stare from how shoko and utahime made tipsy ‘ooo’ sound effects.

She rolled her eyes smiling at the two.”looks like our babe found her some skinny eye candy?” Utahime teased and it made y/n even scoff with a chuckle hidden in.”oh please.. I just got out a sticky ass breakup, what would I look like lusting over another scrawny man?” Shoko and utahime just raised their eyebrows up and down with a cat like smile.”ain’t that your type?” Shoko said in a teasing tone making y/n have a barely visible blush on her cheek.”Oh hush.. go on somewhere if y’all are just gonna tease me.” That was the invite for the two tipsy girls to make their way off to the dance floor.

Just as they left the man came closer to her table and she got a good look of him. He wasn’t very dolled up like the guys he came with. He was sporting just a normal black dress shirt, some grey slacks but had some generic lazy brown hair. He now stood right in front of her with a cheeky smile.”hey, don’t know how my buddies even do this kinda thing but.. saw ya staring at me across the room.” As soon as he said those words he wanted to cringe and turn pink when you rolled your eyes smiling.”room? We’re in a club. Don’t you mean across the dance floor?”

He played it off chuckling and scratching the back of his head.”I’m bad at catch lines what can I say? Can’t knock down a guy for trying.” Y/n liked his wit, she could tell he was obviously just a nervous boy but still very smooth with his comebacks. She took a sip of her pink Whitney.”mhm.. take a seat yes?” He listened to her taking a seat from across her at the small round table. Now that he was taking a close at her she was a gorgeous girl, with a beautiful dark straight haired brunette lace sat on her head perfectly when he looked at her face she had some light makeup on but her lips popped out with them lined and glossed up and even her outfit was pretty, with her wearing a light pink halter top and a pink mini skirt and chunky light pink chunky platform heels that matched her brown skin perfect. Everything about this girl was pretty to him

She noticed how he was zoning out just staring at her and snapped her fingers.”aye, eyes up here sir!” That made him blink and chuckle.”sorry bout that, can’t help but stare at a beautiful girl y’know?” That made her a bit bashful as she smiled at his cheesy lines. He could tell he was winning her over slowly.”instead of this awkward tension let me know something about the girl who was staring me down just from the dance floor.” She made a light chuckle tapping her fingers on the tables surface.”well, I just got out of weird breakup last night and now I’m here. That’s a small fact.” Ino could control the small damn he let out at that.”Ah shit, sorry that’s just a big bombshell.” She giggled at his reaction.”No no, my ex boyfriend was a bit of dick anyways.. He was always borrowing my car, money and nearly maxing my card out.”

That made ino’s brows raise.”what a way to treat a girl you love huh?” She hummed in response.”what can ya do though? Not much good boys in this town really..” Ino made a huff sound at that, the next thing he said he couldn’t even control out his mouth.”I would never do that to you.” It made y/n giggle to have a boy she barely even knew say this just 9 minutes into the conversation.”you barely know me boy, and yet you think you know what’s best for me hm?” She jokes a little which takes ino aback, everything she said made him fluster and think about the stupid words he said. He attempted to play off his words, still showing his boyish charm and overall confidence despite his blushing.”well I don’t know you well enough since I just met you well about some minutes ago but with how you stared at me across that floor and your body language maybe we can figure something out y’know?”

Before she could make another witty comment he continued.”You may look like you have more experience and a more rich taste but trust me, I could be that man for you. I could do the bill paying, the nice spa treatment and resorts. Just give me one chance.” That made y/n’s legs clench a bit, she still had some excuse up her sleeve.”you don’t even know my name.”

“Takuma ino, what’s yours?” He said it so quickly like he wasn’t taking no for a answer or any excuse. Y/n gave in seeing how determined this boy was.”l/n y/n.”

🎀 ᘏᘏ 🎀

In the 6 months y/n had gotten to know ino he kept his promise and word about treating her right. He definitely paid her bills and treated her to the best restaurants and clubs. It amazed her how he could just have this much money from being a assistant apparently. Throughout these months she started to date ino he showed a lot of chivalry for his age, there were some instances where his romance showed out.

He was very serious about paying her bills and expenses like she thought. Truthfully she thought it would just be some fun little three months she would be dating him till she was 4 months in and saw the effect. Even knowing how financially stable ino was she still hesitated asking him to pay for things, it was just her mentality when growing up poor. Ino had this mentality himself when he was younger, that’s how he picked her up on her habbit of always turning lights off and yelling at him across the room to make sure to turn the bathroom light off once he’s done in her bathroom, she even did this in his house without noticing.

When she was scolding him once again about turning the shower water and lights off more often he just hushed her with a finger on her lips.”babe babe, I can take care of all that dumb bill shit.” It stunned her a bit how he hushed her and he chuckled noticing.”I’m your rich new boyfriend did you forget?”

Another instance was him amazing her when taking her to a fresh new restaurant. It was foreign to her a little, as she looked at the fancy menu and the other customers around she felt a bit out of place even in the mini pink dress she had on. Ino could feel how uncomfortable she was, he had gone through the same feelings she did. Across the small table he put his hand on hers rubbing the back of her hand.”hey, enjoy yourself y’know? You deserve the best treatment. Can’t let ya leave out before you try the oxtails this place has.”

Ino was definitely trying to get her comfortable in his lifestyle and it was working slowly. Y/n didn’t even notice how she was wearing more tennis girl wear and going to a country club with him to meet some of his colleagues and friends.

He was showing he could be the boy to pay her bills and everything and more, before she even knew it.

[xetlynn]

an artists muse- a viktor fic.

eight.

[seven] [eight] [nine]

a needle stuck, the same groove played.

Today was odd, the energy surrounding you felt off and wrong. You were tempted to not even go to your classes today because of it. It was pouring and gloomy. Normally you enjoyed the weather but something just didn’t feel right about the day. Your nerves were already off balance but now, in this very moment your arms hurt from how tense they were. 

You and Viktor walked side by side underneath his umbrella. “So, meet back at the cafe to finish the slides?” You ask, gripping the strap of your backpack. He hums in response. “Yup.” He nods his head. “Then after we finish the board we’ll have a week of no work in bio!” You clap your hands. You were trying your hardest to keep up a positive attitude lately that it was beginning to feel foreign and strange. 

“Very exciting.” His lips tug upward, looking down at you as you were looking straight ahead. Seemingly zoning out. He’s been catching you doing that frequently lately. “This is my stop, thank you for walking with me with your umbrella.” You give him a quick side hug to which he squeezes in return. 

“Of course, see you later.” He says, you nod your head. “See ya!” You hurriedly enter the building for your first class of the day. Viktor heads to his own, having to rush since now he only has five minutes to get there after taking you to your class. You repeatedly told him it was okay but he insisted. It kind of bit him back in the ass but to him it was worth it. Not minding being seconds late to his own lecture. 

“Uh, Vector, right?” A voice meeps out from behind him, giving him a slight startle. His hand gripped the umbrella a little tighter. “Viktor, you’re [Name]’s friend, right?” He raises a brow toward the ginger girl now walking beside him. She was holding her own umbrella so she kept some distance. 

“Kind of, not really at the moment.” She stammers but then shakes her head, getting back on track to what she wanted to say to him. “Doesn’t matter,” She breathes before she starts. He glances at her confused but still keeping a fast walking pace as he still needed to get to his class soon. “I’m uh, I want to apologize for what I did to you in high school. Telling you those awful things through [Name]’s account the way I did. You didn’t deserve that.” Her chin was quivering like she was about to cry. Viktor was confused by what she was saying. 

“I’m sorry that I ruined your guy’s friendship but I’m glad you reconciled with one another. She talked about you a lot, you went by Ma or something. I don’t know. Again I just wanted to apologize for what I did.” She places a hand on his shoulder with a sad smile. “I didn’t realize the stuff I said caused you two to stop being friends. I thought it was a funny prank. It definitely wasn’t at all.” She drops her hand back to her side. Viktor doesn’t say anything as he stops walking. His heart was racing as he repeated everything she just said in his head. 

Ma… She? [Name]? Angelicsunny, [name] is angelicsunny?

Suddenly he felt sick to his stomach. His legs felt like jello and he was truly clutching onto his cane for dear life. “You okay?” Maddie tilts her head to the side, reaching out to grab him, worried he was going to fall or something. He snaps out of it, looking up to the ginger. “Yeah… Thank you for your apology. I have to get to class.” He pushed past her, his feet were moving for him. He wasn’t in control anymore as he got to his lecture. 

His mind was spiraling. And the coffee he had drunk was threatening to spew back up. He couldn’t even pay attention to his three hour long lesson. He was playing back so many memories he had of you. The hours the two of you talked to one another as high schoolers. How didn’t he recognize your voice? Did you know this entire time? Is that why you talked to him? 

When the professor dismissed class he lazily pulled out his phone, immediately going to your art account and scrolling all the way down. Your very first post, something he skimmed over. This time he looks closely. It was a familiar little painting. This account had a different name at the time.

He gawks at this. Not able to believe this was happening. That he had to deal with something from four years ago. Well, he was never truly over what happened. He always looked at his blocked list, hovering over your old accounts. Wondering if he should talk to you again. It was always too much. It hurt too badly. 

The wounds still felt fresh as he thought about what was said. Would you even forgive him for blocking you? Not trusting your word and not hearing you out even in the slightest? 

When he looked back at it he knew he overreacted a little bit. But it hurt, it hurt so bad seeing those words being sent to you by the one person he truly trusted with all of his heart. Even though the two of you didn’t know one another's names or faces at the time you guys knew every single other detail. Venting to each other about life and things like that. You were his best friend. 

Now as he stood outside his class, staring at his phone screen and having to swipe to your chat he wanted to call you out for not telling him. He just wanted to know why you hid it. Was it some sort of game you were pulling trying to be his friend? Maybe hurt him again the way you did before? Thoughts raced. And raced before his fingers began to type at the device. 

—--------------------------------------------------

vik.tor_e- something came up, can’t meet up later. 

vik.tor_e- sorry. 

love.[name]3- it’s okay! no worries! 

love.[name]3- are you ok tho?

vik.tor_e- ya, dw about it. 

love.[name]3- umm ok…

—---------------------------------------------------

It had been three days since then. He hadn’t answered any other texts after that. He hadn’t been showing up to the cafe. You were starting to really get worried. You vented to Powder about it, not shutting up. She repeatedly told you it was probably just school related things. 

“Can you just ask Vi or something? Please.” You ask with a pleading expression. The blue-haired girl lets out a loud, dramatic sigh. “I’ll call and ask right now.” She grabs her phone and aggressively taps on it. Putting the phone to her ear. “Vi, can you do something for me?” She lazily inquires. “What do you want now?” 

“Is that Viktor dude, okay? [Name] said he hasn’t been showing up to their daily date things.” Powder sits up, picking at the paint on her nails that were already chipped. You glare at her, throwing a pillow in her direction. “They’re just hang outs.” You spit and she waves you to stop. 

“Uh he’s fine as well as I’m aware. Little more depressed than usual but it happens in the first semester for him for some reason.” Violet answers, not really showing worry for her friend. Kind of calming you down but also not. “Okay, thanks. Bye.” Powder hangs up the phone. “See, school stuff.” She flops back down, closing her eyes to attempt to take a nap like she was trying to do before you interrupted her with your anxiety. 

You gnaw at your bottom lip, still not feeling right about this. 

“Dude, you can’t hold a grudge this long. I’m sure she didn’t even know it was you.” Jayce esperates toward his friend as he was playing a game on his laptop. Viktor rolls his eyes, pacing back and forth in his room. “I know, I just, I can’t let go of this.” He explains, furrowing his brows. “It’s been four years. It might be good to talk with one another.” Jayce says, not really paying attention. 

“Yeah, but you don’t get what was said. I don’t know if I can actually forgive her.” Viktor frowns. “You won’t know unless you hear her out.” Jayce reminds him. “I don’t know…” 

“Well don’t the two of you have a class together tomorrow?” He glances up to the boy who nods quietly. “Then just talk after that.” Jayce shrugs his shoulders as if it were that simple. “We’ll see.” 

And as you stepped into your class your eyes immediately scan the room, landing on the boy who’s been missing for nearly four days. He peers up to you and you grin, waving at him. Viktor presses his lips together, barely lifting up his pointer finger in response. You sit in your seat, confused on what his deal is. And as you go to ask the professor starts his first speech of the day. 

The two of you pull out your notebooks for the class and you rip the bottom edge of one of the sheets. Scribbling down words before passing it over to your friend. He looks at it. 

Reading what you said. “U ok? Little worried about you. :(“ 

You watch as he takes a deep breath and then begins to write on the paper. Giving you a little bit of hope that it’s not about you. 

He slides it back over to you. 

“Talk after class. Angelicsunny.” 

Your face dropped instantaneously. Your head snapped to look at him but now he was avoiding your gaze. 

He knows. He knows and now this was the end of your friendship for a second time.

only five more chapters to go.

taglist: if you want to be added lmk! @policedeer @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @confusedgemposts @ang3lz-lov3 @almostdrowningdown @corpsepies @obittwo @bakusquadobsessed @ren-ni @xx-siren-sings-xx

[slytherinshua]

MRS. SCROOGE VS KIM DONGHYUN

genre. comfort. warnings. implied that reader has depression and depressive thoughts throughout the fic. reader uses humour to make their depression seem lighthearted. not proofread. pairing. leehan x reader. wc. 762. request. requested by anon for #39: "don't listen to the voices in your head, listen to mine." a/n. i love leehan :( the way hes the best in bonedo at emotions and like the therapist ugh i love him so much!!! also this was very inspired by personal experience. net. @onedoornet

Donghyun knew something was up with you when he found you sitting in front of the fish tank instead of in your room. As the co-parent of the fishies, of course it was normal for you to check up on them. But zoning out in front of them? That was a Donghyun thing.

“What’s up?” He asked, pulling up a chair beside you, mirroring the position you were sitting in with your arms wrapped around your knees.

“The sky.” You mumbled, giving your boyfriend a mere glance before your gaze moved back to the shrimp at the bottom of the tank.

Donghyun sighed, “I know you’ve been stressed out lately. I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel like it.” He told you, also looking at the tank, knowing eye contact might have the opposite effect of the one he wanted.

You huffed, “The voices, Donghyun.”

Donghyun raised an eyebrow, “The voices?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek and turned to him, “The ones that tell me I’m useless and that nobody cares about me. You know the ones— annoying little devils, but they’re so convincing.” 

Donghyun hummed in understanding, a sad smile on his face. He adored you and the way you described things, even the little depression dementors that tormented you. You were so full of life despite how much you suffered. From the moment he first saw you until now, you amazed Kim Donghyun.

“Don’t listen to that voice inside your head, listen to mine.” He said, reaching for your hand. You met his eyes skeptically, not sure what your boyfriend had up his sleeve. But you were sure it was something. If there was one thing you were sure of, it was that Donghyun never failed to surprise you. He was always unexpected.

“I love you. I think you’re amazing, you know? No matter what, I’m always going to be here for you. Even when you don’t think you deserve it or when you wish you could just disappear. Trust me, if I wanted to leave— if I didn’t actually love you— I would’ve been long gone by now.” He told you, his voice confident, reassuring, loving.

And you wanted to believe him. You wanted to cling onto every word that left his mouth and believe them like they were gospel. You wanted to kiss him senseless and forget about the rotten world you were blessed enough to meet him in. But that voice inside your head said otherwise, fighting off the words your boyfriend told you, labelling them as lies, as promises that he would break just like everyone had before. You weren’t worth it. You weren’t worth anyone’s care or love. There was no way Donghyun actually—

“Y/n. What did I say? Don’t listen to the voice. What’s his name anyway?”

“Her name, actually. Mrs. Scrooge. She’s Scrooge’s grumpier wife. She’s insufferable.” You said, a little smile playing on your lips.

“Mrs. Scrooge? Must be tiring having to host that old lady in your pretty head.” Donghyun smiled, a mix of amusement and sadness in his voice. You just nodded, finally cracking a proper smile. “Well, tell Mrs. Scrooge that she’s not invited to this discussion.” Donghyun added, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Alright. I think she’ll go to bed for the night if I ask her.” You mumbled, staring back at the corydoras swimming around without a thought in the tank. They didn’t know how awful the world was— they only knew Donghyun and his perfectly caring nature. You wished you were a fish. But that would be impossible. At least you had Donghyun regardless.

“I love you. Thanks for getting her to go to sleep. She’s a real headache.” You mumbled, starting to stand up. Donghyun followed your movements, walking behind you to the kitchen.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked gently.

You hummed, “A lot better. Thank you.” 

Donghyun smiled, heart now at ease. He opened his arms for you and you fell into them, letting Donghyun bury his nose in your hair, pressing occasional kisses to the top of your head. 

The world was rarely kind to you, and some days it felt as if you were beaten so low to the ground that giving up and collapsing completely would be the better choice. But, no matter what, Donghyun always found you and offered you his hand, helping you up again with a reassuring smile and a promise to always be by your side.

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[dreamwavesexploringreality]

CHECKMATE:

Chishiya x Reader

Requested: Chishiya plans to betray Arisu but she has changed.

Y/N would be lying if she said she hadn’t changed. Of course she had changed. They all had.

Borderlands was no walk in the park; it was not a place where innocence and honesty would flourish. Borderlands was about survival in its rawest and most brutal sense.

Chishiya had changed too. At least that’s what Y/N told herself as she watched him silently surveying his surroundings, assessing every person who might pose a potential threat. She missed the warmth of his embrace on cold nights and the whisper of his encouraging words in her ear when her only worry was passing her final exams. Sometimes she could even feel the echo of his touch when he brushed past her without acknowledging her presence. “It’s better if we don’t get associated,” he would say. And she believed him, as she always did, because after all, he was Chishiya.

But things didn’t take long to change.

It was a game night, a particularly intricate and demanding game. She felt conflicted discovering she was in the same group as her boyfriend. She had never played with him before, and she preferred it that way, but she couldn’t shake the sense of security and illusory calm that came from knowing he would be by her side. It turned out to be a game of tag, a Five of Clubs. Chishiya remained silent as the rules were explained, leaning against the wall with an enviable calmness. Y/N kept her distance, just as he had incessantly reminded her; it was better to maintain space in public places.

Once the game began, people started to run, racing through the building that was the stage for death that night, relentlessly searching for the safe zone behind one of the numerous doors leading to the top floor. She watched as Chishiya walked slowly toward the elevator. For some reason, seeing Aguni and his henchmen, who were also playing that night, vanish down the stairs prompted her to follow him. Once inside the elevator, and as the doors closed, Chishiya turned to her.

“Follow me if you want, but don’t talk to me.” He didn’t even look at her.

Y/N nodded, swallowing hard, feeling her heart constrict in her chest.

When the elevator reached the top floor and the doors opened, he stepped out. With a bored stride and his hands in his pockets, he moved toward a secluded corner, a strategic position from which he could observe the entire field without risk of being caught off guard by the hunter. Y/N slowly approached him, keeping a respectful distance. She heard Chishiya huff in annoyance, and for a moment, she was tempted to leave. She had played many games alone and survived; this time didn’t have to be different. However, when the first shot echoed through the air, all those thoughts faded away.

Minutes passed, and people began to fall, with no sign of the safe room that had been mentioned in the rules.

“The bomb will explode,” she said, gripping the railing tightly as she tried to envision where the safe door could be.

Chishiya didn’t respond.

A fire ignited within her. She wasn’t going to stand by and do nothing while people died trying to find the safe zone; they were players too, and this was a game of teamwork. She glanced at the man one last time, trying to find something familiar in his eyes that would assure her the man she knew was still there, but he didn’t look at her. She felt something inside her finally give way and shatter, and with determined steps, more resolute than her own certainty, she rushed toward the stairs, bounding down two steps at a time. In her focus, she didn’t see Chishiya watching her with astonishment etched on his face and worry in his eyes.

“Ten minutes remaining,” announced the robotic voice of her phone.

Y/N felt her body collide with a hard surface.

“I’m sorry,” she heard.

It was a man she remembered seeing in the lobby during the wait for the game to start.

“It’s fine,” she replied. She found the strange conventionality of their conversation amusing in such an extreme situation.

“Have you found the safe zone?” he asked.

“N—no,” Y/N dared not tell him that she hadn’t moved from her spot during the ten minutes the game had been running.

“Come on!” he urged as he ran.

For some reason, her legs activated before her brain, and she began to chase after the boy who would later introduce himself as Arisu.

When it was all over, and the car was filled to take the few survivors back to The Beach, Y/N found herself reunited with Chishiya. He had stayed hidden for almost the entire duration of the game, only appearing at the end, when there were barely five minutes left before the bomb would explode. A fire coursed through her as she watched him walk with absolute calm, urging Arisu to open the door behind which another hunter was hiding.

If they were alive, it was thanks to Arisu—this was the conclusion she reached and clung to when, upon arriving at The Beach, Chishiya knocked on her door.

“What do you want?” she asked as she opened it.

“You were impulsive tonight,” he replied, his tone flat and his demeanor bored.

Y/N closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. She wasn’t going to let herself be swayed by the bitter feelings that had been bubbling within her since the start of the game, perhaps even for days, which she had kept at bay.

“I’m tired. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She shut the door, leaving him bewildered outside.

The next day, Y/N made an effort to avoid Chishiya. She did the same the following day. And the next. This game of hide-and-seek lasted almost a week until, for better or worse, Kuina decided to intervene.

“Chishiya wants to talk to you,” she said, entering Y/N’s room without knocking and wrapping her arm around hers, pulling her eagerly toward the man’s room.

Y/N had no choice but to let herself be led by the woman, well aware that when Kuina got something in her head, it was impossible to dissuade her. For some reason, she had become Chishiya’s loyal companion, doing anything he asked of her. “My boyfriend…” she thought. She didn’t even know if they were still together.

Upon reaching the room, Kuina pushed the door open, shoving Y/N inside and closing it behind her. Now they were alone.

Y/N watched Chishiya from behind, seated at his desk, working on one of his strange devices. No one spoke for a few seconds; the metallic sound of the gadget being adjusted filled the room alongside her quickened breath.

“Your friend is at The Beach,” Chishiya finally broke the silence, still facing away from her.

This took Y/N by surprise.

“My friend?” she asked, genuine hesitation in her voice.

Silence fell again for a moment, during which Y/N decided it was better not to breathe.

“Arisu,” Chishiya said, finally turning around.

An unintelligible sound escaped her lips as she exhaled the air she had been holding. She looked at him. His stoic expression revealed nothing about what might be going through his mind at that moment, leaning back in his chair with his hands in his pockets. Y/N tried to find something in his eyes, in his gaze, that might indicate what he was thinking. It wasn’t necessary when he spoke again.

“I’m going to steal the cards, and Arisu is going to die.”

The girl didn’t know how those two ideas were connected, but a chill ran down her spine when she realized that whatever he was planning, whatever his goal was, Chishiya felt no remorse for that man’s life. Perhaps he felt no remorse for hers either, and that was where it shattered.

Y/N didn’t wait for him to continue speaking before turning on her heel and leaving the room, passing by Kuina, who had been leaning against the wall and startled at her sudden departure.

“Y/N!” Kuina called after her.

She ignored the call, swallowing her tears as she ran to her room. Finally, everything she had been holding deep in her heart, all those thoughts she had tried to banish from her mind over the past few days… all crumbled into tears that spilled from her eyes. She wouldn’t be his puppet; she wouldn’t be another victim of his deception, wouldn’t fall into the jaws of a man she could no longer recognize.

A few doors down, Chishiya was ushering a worried Kuina out of his room. He needed time to think, he told himself as he tried to figure out what he had done wrong. He knew precisely when things had begun to go awry, pinpointing it to the moment they both arrived in Borderlands. From that instant, his sole purpose had been to get them both out of that place and, until that was possible, to prioritize her safety, Y/N’s safety, and if that meant being cold and distant with her, impassive and indifferent in their interactions, so be it. But she clearly seemed incapable of seeing beyond his harsh actions; she didn’t understand that he did it for her own good, and that his only concern was for them to leave together. That’s why he was willing to risk the lives of the pawns on his chessboard, to sacrifice them without a second thought just to save the king and his queen—just to save her. It pained him when she looked at him with that distrust, that skepticism and disbelief… “As if I could ever betray her…” he scoffed as he buried his face in his hands, rubbing his forehead harshly.

It was going to be difficult to regain her trust, especially after that last glance filled with fear and disappointment that she had thrown at him before leaving her room.

Several days passed during which Chishiya’s plans were stalled. He decided not to make any moves until he was sure that his queen was still in the game, and for that, he had to use some of his intricate tricks.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” he said, on the terrace, staring into the horizon.

“I considered not coming,” she replied honestly, “but Arisu told me it was important.”

“It is,” he responded, a hint of jealousy creeping into his voice. The last thing he wanted, after days of silence, was for her to mention another man.

He turned to look at her. He noticed she was pale with sunken eyes; she must not have been sleeping well. Not that Chishiya didn’t know; he had been keeping an eye on her from the shadows, aware that she had been visibly uncomfortable and agitated after his announcement about stealing the cards. However, what pleasantly surprised him was that she hadn’t said anything to anyone, not even to Kuina, whom he sent every day to try to talk to her.

“I think you didn’t understand me well the other night,” he continued, taking a step closer to her.

“You told me you would steal the cards and kill Arisu,” she replied sharply.

Chishiya chuckled softly.

“I said I would steal the cards and that Arisu would die,” he answered, smiling with smugness.

A perfectly constructed mask.

Y/N rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. Seeing this, Chishiya stepped closer, still smiling, coming within inches of her. Y/N felt her breath catch at the sudden and unexpected movement from the white-haired boy. Chishiya lifted his arms and uncrossed hers, letting them drop to her sides. Seizing the newly established space between them, he took another step forward and grasped her hands.

“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, Y/N,” Chishiya whispered softly, so quietly that Y/N momentarily thought she had imagined it.

He cleared his throat and raised his gaze, meeting her bright, anxious eyes.

His mask began to falter.

“I want to get out of here, but I want us to do it together. If we don’t get out together, if we don’t go home together... nothing would make sense,” he continued, feeling his voice waver as he forced himself to utter words he never would have thought would be in his vocabulary. “Everything I do... I do it for you. I do it because I love you.” And that was the last straw.

The woman wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. Chishiya felt the dampness start to soak through his shirt, and along with the small sobs escaping from her, he realized she was crying. He embraced her too, gently stroking her back, trying to soothe her in the best way he knew how. It wasn’t something he did often.

Neither of them spoke as the rain began to fall, soaking the terrace and disguising the tears that had begun to slide down Chishiya’s cheek. “To think I could have lost her...” he thought, allowing the rain to wash away any trace of his mask.

He had spent all this time worried that the girl would remain alive, that she wouldn’t be used against him if anyone discovered his feelings for her, that she would be safe. But he seemed to have forgotten that she was not just another piece in his chess game; she was not something he could move at will. No, Y/N was his queen. Y/N was the most important piece on the board, the piece for which it was worth continuing the game. She was everything; no plan or strategy made sense if, at the end of the day, he didn’t have her. But Chishiya was a clever man, smarter than most, and he knew this wouldn’t be the end.

He swallowed his tears with regret and understood that he would never be willing to change his plans. He would achieve his goal; he would get her out of that place even if it meant lying to her, deceiving her, betraying her, hurting her, and being the cause of her tears. Savoring that embrace, he held her tighter against his chest, trying to imprint the feeling of her arms around him in his mind. He would deceive her, betray her, and hurt her; he would hate himself for it, but she would survive. She would escape that place.

And when he finally won the game he was playing, when he toppled the king, he would have a good reason to make the final checkmate, and his queen could be free; she could be happy. Even if it was without him.

© 2024 [@dreamwavesexploringreality]

--

✨

[novaursa]

Between Pride and Fire (crossroads)

- Summary: It was a challenge of the hunt that drew the lion to you, but it was your fire that made him yours.

- Paring: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: flares

- Next part: the blessing

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @punk-in-docs @barnes70stark

The carved map of Westeros stretched before them, marked with tokens representing their forces, the Greens’ positions, and the uncertain loyalties of lords who had yet to choose a side. Daemon stood at the head of the table, his sharp violet eyes scanning the map with a hawk’s focus, while Jason Lannister stood to his right, his arms crossed over his chest. Both men were visibly tense, their voices low as they debated the next move.

“Corlys and Rhaenys are holding the Gullet well,” Jason said, gesturing toward the token representing the Velaryon fleet. “They’ve blockaded the narrow sea, and with the Driftwood Throne secure, their ships patrol the waters from Driftmark to Blackwater Bay. The Greens won’t be sending reinforcements by sea anytime soon.”

Daemon nodded curtly, his fingers drumming against the table. “Good. But that only holds one flank. The Riverlands remain the key to our cause. Harrenhal must be taken, and the Riverlords must be reminded of their oaths.”

Jason frowned, leaning forward to study the map. “Agreed. But with the queen absent, the Riverlords may hesitate. They’ll want to see her resolve before they commit their swords.”

Daemon’s expression darkened at the mention of Rhaenyra’s absence. “Rhaenyra is grieving,” he said sharply. “She searches the shores for her son, as any mother would. When she returns, her fury will be the fire that ignites this war. Until then, we prepare.”

Jason nodded, though his expression remained grim. “And if she doesn’t return soon? How long can we wait before the Greens press their advantage?”

Daemon’s jaw tightened. “Not long. That’s why we must secure Harrenhal as soon as possible. It will show the realm that the queen’s cause is not stalled, and it will give us a foothold in the Riverlands to rally our armies.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Your voice broke through the heavy silence, drawing the attention of both men. You stepped forward, your hands resting on the edge of the table as you met Daemon’s sharp gaze. “Morrath and I are more than capable. My dragon is as large, almost as Silverwing, and I’ve trained with bow and blade for years. I’ll be more useful in the air than any archer or swordsman you have.”

Jason’s head snapped toward you, his green eyes flashing with alarm. “Absolutely not,” he declared, his voice firm. “You’re not flying into a war zone. It’s out of the question.”

You straightened, your own gaze hardening as you looked at him. “Jason, I’m not a helpless girl who needs protecting. I’m a Targaryen. I’ve ridden Morrath since I was fourteen, and I’ve fought alongside you in battle before.”

Jason’s jaw clenched, his frustration evident. “That was different. This isn’t some skirmish in the Westerlands. This is the Riverlands—a region crawling with Greens and traitors. You’d be flying into danger, and I won’t have it.”

Daemon watched the exchange with faint amusement, though his expression remained thoughtful. “She’s not wrong, Lannister,” he said finally, his tone calm but pointed. “A dragon the size of Morrath is a valuable asset, and she’s proven her skill in the air.”

Jason turned his glare to Daemon, his voice sharp. “Don’t encourage her, Targaryen. She’s my wife, and I’ll not see her risk her life for something that can be done without her.”

You stepped closer to Jason, your tone firm but not unkind. “Jason, you trust me to stand by your side in every other matter. Trust me now. Morrath and I can make a difference.”

Jason shook his head, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You’re not going, and that’s final. I’ll not have our children lose their mother because she felt the need to play the warrior.”

“I’m not playing,” you snapped, your voice rising slightly. “This is our fight, Jason. Our children’s future depends on it. I won’t stand idly by while you and Daemon risk everything.”

Daemon raised a hand, his voice cutting through the debate. “Enough. Jason is right. You’re not going to the Riverlands.”

You turned to him, your eyes narrowing. “Daemon—”

He held up a finger, silencing you with a look. “This isn’t about your capabilities. It’s about the perception of the realm. If you fall, the Greens will spin it as weakness, and we cannot afford that. You’re needed here, for Rhaenyra and for your children.”

Jason exhaled sharply, clearly relieved by Daemon’s agreement. “For once, we’re in accord,” he muttered.

You glared at both men, your hands clenched at your sides. “Fine,” you said tightly, though the anger in your voice was evident. “But don’t think for a moment that I’ll just sit and wait if things go awry.”

Daemon smirked faintly, though there was no humor in his eyes. “We wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Jason placed a hand on your arm, his grip firm but gentle as he met your gaze. “You’re staying here, with our family. That’s where you’re needed most.”

You pulled away from his touch, turning your attention back to the map. The fire in your chest burned hot, but you knew they wouldn’t be swayed. For now, you’d remain on Dragonstone—but you swore to yourself that if the tide turned, you’d do whatever was necessary to protect your family and the queen’s cause.

Daemon straightened, his gaze sweeping over the gathered lords. “Once Rhaenyra returns, we’ll march. The Riverlands will know the might of House Targaryen.”

The lords murmured their assent, though the tension in the room lingered as the plans solidified. And though you said nothing more, your mind churned with the weight of what was to come. The Riverlands would soon see fire and blood, and you’d ensure that the legacy of your house endured—no matter the cost.

The skies above Dragonstone were heavy with gray clouds, the threat of rain looming as the sharp cries of dragons filled the air. From the courtyard, the returning forms of Vermax, Vaelora, and Silverwing came into view, their wings slicing through the mist like blades. The sight brought a strange mix of relief and uncertainty to the castle—relief that the children had returned, and anxiety at what news they might bring.

You stood beside Jason, your hands clasped tightly in front of you, watching as the dragons descended. The weeks had felt like an eternity since Rhaenyra’s return with only a broken wing of Arrax, her grief a palpable weight that hung over the castle like a storm. Now, the return of your daughters and Jacaerys brought a flicker of hope, though it was dampened by the shadows that lingered in everyone’s hearts.

As the dragons landed, their riders dismounted quickly, Vermax roaring low as Jacaerys stepped forward, his face a mask of sorrow. Leona and Aemma followed close behind, both cloaked in crimson and gold, their expressions wary but composed. Jason took a step forward, his eyes fixed on his daughters, though his usual confident demeanor was tempered by the weight of the moment.

“Leona,” you breathed, your voice barely audible as you broke into a run. “Aemma.”

Your daughters turned at the sound of your voice, and for a moment, the guarded expressions they wore melted away. Leona was the first to step forward, her golden mask reflecting the dim light as her arms opened to meet you. You enveloped her in a fierce hug, your hands clutching at the fabric of her cloak as though to ensure she was truly there.

“I’m here, Mother,” Leona murmured, her voice steady despite the emotion in her eyes. “We’re both here.”

Jason was just behind you, his strong arms wrapping around Aemma as she reached for him. She buried her face in his chest, her shoulders trembling slightly as he murmured quiet reassurances, his hand cradling the back of her head.

“You’re safe,” Jason said, his voice thick with relief. “Thank the gods, you’re safe.”

Aemma pulled back slightly, her wide eyes meeting her father’s. “We did as the queen commanded, Father. We spoke with the lords of the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale. They’ve pledged their support.”

Leona added, her voice sharper but laced with exhaustion, “The North stands firm with us. Lord Stark gave his word—and his men. The Riverlands will follow once Harrenhal is secured.”

Jason nodded, though his hands didn’t release Aemma. “You’ve done well, both of you. But this was not an easy task. You should never have had to carry it.” His green eyes flicked toward you briefly, a shared understanding passing between you.

“I’m proud of you,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly as you cupped Leona’s face, her mask cool beneath your fingers. “Both of you. You’ve proven yourselves as strong as the dragons you ride.”

Leona smiled faintly, her pride shining through the weariness in her posture. “We did what was needed, Mother. For the queen—and for our family.”

Jacaerys, who had lingered behind, stepped forward then, his gaze sweeping over his mother’s chamber window high above. His face was pale, grief etched into every line of his features. “I must go to her,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with pain.

Jason nodded, stepping aside to give him passage. “Go to your mother, Jace. She needs you now.”

Jace inclined his head and made his way toward the stairs leading to the private chambers. The weight of his grief was evident in every step he took, his shoulders sagging beneath the burden of his loss.

Leona and Aemma exchanged a glance before turning back to you and Jason. “How is she?” Leona asked, her voice quieter now. “The queen?”

You hesitated, glancing toward the darkened window of Rhaenyra’s chambers. “She grieves still,” you admitted. “But she holds on—for all of us.”

Jason placed a hand on Leona’s shoulder, his touch grounding. “And now, you’re here. That will give her some strength.”

Aemma stepped closer, her voice small as she asked, “What of Lucerys? What happened to him?”

Jason’s face darkened slightly, and his grip on her shoulder tightened. “He’s gone,” he said quietly, his voice heavy. “Arrax was torn apart above Storm’s End. Rhaenyra found only a broken wing on the shores.”

Aemma’s lips trembled, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “The Greens…” she began, but her voice trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Leona’s jaw tightened, her amber eyes blazing behind her mask. “They’ll pay for this,” she said sharply, her tone cold. “Aemond will answer for what he’s done.”

Jason exchanged a glance with you, his own frustration mirroring hers. “And he will,” he said firmly. “But for now, you both need rest. You’ve done more than enough.”

You nodded, pulling them both into another embrace. “Come. Let’s get you inside. You’ll need your strength for what’s to come.”

As the four of you began to make your way back toward the keep, the weight of the weeks apart and the grief of what had been lost hung heavy in the air. But for the briefest moment, the relief of having your daughters home was enough to push back the encroaching darkness. Together, you would face whatever came next. Together, as a family.

The Painted Table glowed faintly under the light of the many torches burning in their sconces. Around it stood the most trusted of Rhaenyra’s council: Daemon, Jason, and you at one side; Jacaerys, Leona, and Aemma at the other. The atmosphere was heavy with the weight of the war that loomed ever closer.

Jacaerys stood at the head of the table, his shoulders squared but his expression tight. He was clearly trying to present himself as composed, but the strain of his grief and the enormity of the task before him lingered in his violet eyes. Beside him, Leona stood tall and steadfast as she offered him silent support.

Daemon leaned forward, his palms flat against the table as his sharp gaze swept the room. “Well, boy?” he asked, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Do the Vale, the Riverlands, and the North stand with the queen?”

Jace nodded, though his hesitation was evident. “Lady Jeyne Arryn has pledged her support, though…” He glanced toward Leona before continuing. “She asked for a dragon to strengthen her position in the Vale. She believes a dragon would solidify her rule and deter any rebellion.”

Daemon smirked faintly, tilting his head. “Of course she does. And what did you tell her?”

Jace’s jaw tightened slightly. “I told her we would consider it. The Vale’s loyalty is crucial, and if the queen decides it’s worth the price, we can spare a dragon egg.”

Daemon grunted but said nothing, his expression unreadable as he turned his attention back to the table. “And the Riverlands?”

“The Tullys may need more persuasion,” Jace admitted reluctantly. “Lord Grover Tully is old and cautious. He wavers, though his heirs may be more easily swayed. The Riverlands are divided, but they’ll fall in line once Harrenhal is secured.”

Jason’s green eyes narrowed. “And the Ironborn?”

Aemma stepped forward, her voice calm but determined. “The Greyjoys will not be a problem, Father. Silverwing flew over the Iron Islands, and it was enough to remind them of what dragons can do. They won’t rebel—not now.”

Daemon chuckled darkly, clearly pleased. “Good. Fear is a language the Ironborn understand well.”

Then, Daemon’s attention turned to the northernmost part of the map, his hand brushing over the carved figure of Winterfell. “And the Starks? Did the wolf remember his oaths?”

Jace hesitated, glancing at Leona and Aemma. The three exchanged a brief look, one heavy with unspoken meaning, before Leona stepped forward, her voice even and composed. “Lord Cregan Stark promised ten thousand Greybeards. They will march south when the time comes, but winter is upon the North, and he cannot spare the rest of his forces until it passes.”

Daemon frowned, though his tone remained measured. “Typical Northerners. Stubborn as stone and just as slow. Anything else?”

Jace glanced toward Jason, his voice quieter as he spoke. “There is… another matter.” He hesitated, looking briefly to Aemma, who shifted uneasily beside him. “To further strengthen the ties between the North and the South, an agreement was made.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What agreement?”

Jace’s gaze darted toward Leona, as though hoping she would intervene, but it was Aemma who stepped forward, her voice soft but firm. “I am to marry Lord Cregan Stark, once I come of age.”

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.

Jason’s reaction was immediate and visceral. His expression twisted into something akin to horror and disbelief, his hands gripping the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned white. “You what?” he said sharply, his voice rising.

Aemma raised her hands in a placating gesture. “Father, please—”

“No,” Jason snapped, stepping around the table to face her directly. “Absolutely not. This is madness! You’re not marrying a Stark.”

“Father,” Aemma began again, her voice calm but insistent, “Lord Cregan is an honorable man. He is strong, wise, and loyal. This union will strengthen the queen’s cause—”

“I don’t care if he’s the Seven reborn,” Jason interrupted, his voice tight with emotion. “You are my daughter. My child. I will not have you sent to the frozen North like some pawn on a chessboard.”

Daemon, who had been watching the exchange with growing amusement, leaned back in his chair with a smirk as he turned to you. “It seems your lion has found his roar, niece.”

Jason shot him a glare, but Daemon only chuckled, clearly enjoying the display.

“Father,” Aemma pressed, her tone growing more insistent. “This was not a decision made lightly. Lord Stark offered this alliance, and it was the right choice for the realm. I agreed because I believe in this cause. Please, trust me.”

Jason stared at her, his jaw working as he struggled to find the words. His green eyes flicked to you, his expression a mix of frustration and desperation. “And you?” he asked, his voice softer but no less strained. “Do you approve of this?”

You hesitated, your heart aching at the sight of his turmoil. “Jason,” you said gently, stepping closer, “Aemma is right. This union will solidify the North’s loyalty, and Cregan Stark is a good man. He will honor and protect her.”

Jason turned away, running a hand through his curls as he muttered under his breath. “Protect her? The North is a wasteland. What protection does she need in a place where the snow never melts?”

“Enough,” Daemon said, his voice cutting through the tension. His amused smirk had faded, replaced by the sharp authority of a commander. “The decision is made. The North stands with us, and Aemma’s betrothal will ensure that alliance holds.”

Jason clenched his jaw, his shoulders taut with frustration, but he said nothing further. Aemma stepped forward tentatively, placing a hand on his arm. “I promise, Father,” she said softly. “This is what I want. Please don’t be angry with me.”

Jason sighed heavily, his hand covering hers as he finally looked at her. “I could never be angry with you,” he said quietly, though his voice was laced with sorrow. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like this.”

Aemma smiled faintly, relief flickering in her eyes. “Thank you, Father.”

Daemon leaned back against the table once more, his smirk returning as he addressed the room. “Well, now that that’s settled, shall we move on to the part where we burn Harrenhal to the ground?”

Jason shot him another glare, but this time, he said nothing. 

Jason stood near the window of your chambers, his back to you, his hands gripping the edge of the stone sill as he stared out into the night. His shoulders were taut, his hair disheveled from the way he’d raked his hands through it repeatedly since you’d entered.

You sat on the edge of the bed, watching him silently for a moment, your own emotions swirling within you. The news of Aemma’s betrothal to Lord Cregan Stark had been a blow to both of you, though you were trying to find solace in the fact that your daughter had made the decision herself. Still, Jason’s reaction had been far more volatile, his protective instincts battling with the political reality of the situation.

“Jason,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

He didn’t turn, his voice low and tight as he replied. “How could you stand there and agree to this?”

You sighed, rising from the bed and moving toward him. “Because it wasn’t my decision to make, Jason. Aemma is no longer a child. She made a choice—for herself and for the queen’s cause.”

Jason finally turned, his green eyes blazing with frustration. “She shouldn’t have had to make that choice,” he said sharply. “She’s barely more than a girl, and now she’s to be shipped off to the frozen North to marry a man she barely knows.”

“She knows enough,” you countered gently, reaching for his arm. “Cregan Stark is honorable, Jason. He’ll treat her well.”

Jason pulled away, pacing the length of the room with restless energy. “That’s not the point,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair again. “She’s our daughter. She deserves more than being used as a tool in this damned war.”

You stepped closer, your voice soft but firm. “And do you think I don’t feel the same way? Do you think I don’t wish we could shield her from all of this? But that’s not the world we live in. She made a decision, Jason. A wise one. One that shows just how much she’s grown.”

Jason stopped, his gaze meeting yours, his frustration giving way to a flicker of pain. “She’s too young,” he said quietly, his voice cracking. “Too young to leave us. Too young to face the cold and the wolves of the North.”

Your heart ached at the sight of him, the strong, confident Lord of Casterly Rock brought low by the thought of losing his daughter. You reached for him again, this time taking his hands in yours and holding them tightly. “She’s strong, Jason,” you said softly. “She’s your daughter. She has your courage and your fire.”

Jason let out a heavy sigh, his head bowing slightly. “And what of us?” he murmured. “How do we watch her go? How do we let her fly to a place we may never see again?”

You stepped closer, your hands sliding up to cup his face as you tilted his head to meet your gaze. “Because we raised her to be strong. To make her own choices. And because we trust her to find her way.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his green eyes searching yours. “You’re proud of her,” he said quietly, though it wasn’t a question.

You nodded, your lips curving into a faint, bittersweet smile. “I am. And I know you are too, even if you can’t admit it right now.”

Jason exhaled sharply, his hands coming to rest on your waist. “How do you always manage to make me see reason, even when I don’t want to?”

You smiled softly, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “Because you love me,” you murmured against his mouth. “And because you know I’m right.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, though it was tinged with sadness. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he buried his face in your hair. “I hate this,” he muttered. “I hate that this war is tearing our family apart.”

“I know,” you whispered, your hands smoothing over his back in a soothing gesture. “But we’ll endure it, Jason. Just as we always have.”

He pulled back slightly, his hands framing your face as he kissed you again, this time with more desperation. You returned the kiss, your arms looping around his neck as you poured every ounce of comfort you could into the embrace. For a moment, the weight of the war, the grief, and the uncertainty melted away, leaving only the two of you.

When you finally parted, Jason rested his forehead against yours, his voice low and rough. “Promise me we’ll find a way through this. That we’ll see all our children safe again.”

You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over the faint stubble there. “I promise,” you said softly. “We’ll see this through.”

Jason sighed deeply as he held you close, his forehead still resting against yours. The weight of his earlier frustrations seemed to lift slightly in your embrace, but his expression remained pensive. His fingers absently traced the curve of your waist as though grounding himself in the moment.

“There’s something else,” he murmured, his voice hesitant.

You pulled back slightly, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “Something else?”

Jason hesitated, clearly reluctant to speak, before he let out a humorless chuckle. “Daemon. Your charming uncle keeps insisting that when Rhaenyra gives the word, I fly with him atop Caraxes to Harrenhal.”

Your eyebrows shot up, a mixture of surprise and amusement flickering across your face. “Caraxes? He means to take you with him still? I thought you talked him out of that.”

Jason shook his head, his green eyes narrowing slightly. “Apparently not. Daemon Targaryen isn’t a man who easily forgets his plans—or relents once he’s set his mind to something. And for some gods-forsaken reason, he insists I go with him.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head in disbelief. “He must have a great deal of respect for you, Jason. Daemon doesn’t suffer fools or cowards. That’s a high compliment.”

Jason snorted, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. “If this is his way of showing respect, I’d rather he didn’t. I’d rather face a battlefield than be strapped to that damned saddle with your uncle. Caraxes is terrifying enough; flying with Daemon is a whole other level of madness.”

You smiled, a playful glint in your eye as your fingers moved to the laces of his tunic. “Flying on dragonback with my uncle to take an old, haunted castle does sound dangerous. And a long trip, no less.” You tugged at the laces, your voice softening into a teasing lilt. “We should make the most of the time we have in the meantime. Don’t you think?”

Jason’s brows furrowed for a moment as he processed your words, but then a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. His hands slid from your waist to your back, pulling you flush against him as he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “Are you suggesting we spend some quality time together, my love?”

“Am I not always full of good suggestions?” you replied with a smirk, slipping his tunic off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. “Besides, you might need the memory of this when Daemon inevitably throws you off Caraxes to suit his own plans.”

Jason laughed, his earlier tension melting away as his hands moved to the laces of your gown. “If that happens, you’ll need to avenge me,” he teased, his voice low and warm. “But perhaps I can convince your uncle not to kill me with the promise of your wrath.”

You laughed softly, your hands sliding up to rest on his bare chest. “Oh, Jason. You’ll survive Daemon’s schemes—if only to come back and gloat about it.”

His hands worked deftly at the laces of your gown, his smile turning wicked. “Well, if I do survive, it’ll only be because I have such a remarkable wife who keeps me grounded—and distracted.”

“Distracted?” you repeated with a mock frown, your hands tangling in his curls. “Is that what this is?”

Jason leaned in, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered, “Always, my love.”

The kiss deepened, his hands sliding the fabric of your gown down your shoulders and letting it pool at your feet. You pressed against him, your earlier amusement giving way to the intensity of the moment. Jason’s fingers traced your bare skin, his touch both gentle and possessive as he guided you toward the bed.

As he laid you down, his green eyes met yours, filled with a mix of desire and affection. “You’ll keep me sane through all of this,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “Through the war, through Daemon’s madness… through everything.”

You cupped his face, pulling him down to kiss him again. “And you’ll do the same for me, Jason. Always.”

The rest of the world faded away as his lips trailed down your neck, his hands exploring your body with the familiarity of a man who had loved you deeply for years. For a time, there was no war, no council, no dragons or castles—only the two of you, lost in the solace of each other.

His body moved against yours with a fervent, familiar rhythm that sent waves of pleasure through you. His hands gripped your hips with a possessive urgency, pulling you closer as though he could never have enough of you.

You arched beneath him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you gasped, your voice breaking through the charged air. “Jason… even before we met, I thought you were unbearably annoying.”

He stilled for the briefest of moments, just enough to raise his head and smirk down at you. His green eyes gleamed with amusement and that ever-present arrogance that hadn’t faded over the years. “Did you now?” he teased, his voice rough but laced with smugness. “And yet here we are, my love, with you beneath me, calling my name.”

You rolled your eyes, though the fire in his gaze sent a thrill through you. “You were too arrogant. At the hunt—before we even spoke properly—you strutted about like you owned the world.”

Jason leaned down, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that was both mocking and tender. “And yet you dared to insult me,” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips. “Without a hint of fear or decorum, and you didn't send me away. That’s when I knew what I wanted.”

Your laugh turned into a gasp as he thrust into you again, his movements wild and untamed. “You didn’t care at all, did you?” you managed to say, your voice trembling with both exasperation and pleasure.

“Not a bit,” Jason replied smugly, his hands sliding up your body, tracing every curve. “You can call me arrogant, unbearable, whatever you like. It changes nothing. I knew the moment you opened your mouth that you were mine.”

His words sent a shiver through you, and your response was lost in the throes of passion as his lips found the sensitive skin of your neck. Your hands tangled in his curls, pulling him closer as your bodies moved together with a frantic, desperate need. The years had done nothing to dull the fire between you—it burned as brightly as it had the first time you had been together, igniting every nerve and consuming every thought.

“Jason,” you gasped, your voice breaking as you clung to him. “Promise me. Promise me you’ll come back to me—to our family.”

He groaned softly, his movements slowing for a moment as he met your gaze, his green eyes fierce and unyielding. “You think I’d let Daemon throw me off a saddle and die before I’ve had my fill of you?” he said, his voice low and rough. “Never.”

“Promise me,” you insisted, your hands framing his face, pulling him closer. “I need to hear you say it.”

Jason grinned faintly, his lips brushing yours before murmuring, “I promise, my love. Though I’ll admit, it’s mostly because the idea of leaving you and our children in Daemon’s care terrifies me more than war ever could.”

You huffed a laugh, your eyes bright even as tears threatened to spill. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” he replied, his voice softening as he kissed you deeply, stealing the breath from your lungs.

His pace quickened again, and the two of you lost yourselves in each other. Your nails raked down his back as his name left your lips in a broken cry, his hands gripping your thighs as though anchoring himself to you. His movements were wild and unrelenting, a desperate, consuming passion that spoke of years of love and desire that had only grown stronger with time.

When the peak finally came, it was like a storm breaking—a chaotic, beautiful release that left you both trembling in its wake. Jason collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as the two of you lay tangled together, your breathing heavy and uneven.

For a while, neither of you spoke, the silence filled only by the crackling of the fire and the steady beat of Jason’s heart beneath your ear. Finally, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his voice soft but filled with conviction. “I’ll come back to you, I swear it. Nothing will keep me from you.”

You closed your eyes, your hand resting over his heart. “You’d better, Jason Lannister. Or I’ll ride Morrath myself and drag you back from the Seven Hells.”

Jason chuckled, the sound warm and comforting. “I’d expect nothing less from you, my fierce dragon.”

The hollow interior of Dragonmont echoed with the low growls of restless dragons, the air thick with the heat of volcanic vents. The massive cavern was dimly lit by the flickering glow of molten lava that seeped through cracks in the stone. You stood beside Jason, your hand resting lightly on his arm, though your grip tightened when the sound of heavy wings reverberated through the chamber.

Ahead of you, Daemon stood with the poise of a man entirely at ease in the presence of dragons. His sharp eyes were fixed on the crimson form of Caraxes as the dragon slithered into the chamber, his elongated neck snaking through the air like a serpent. A handful of Dragonkeepers trailed behind, their expressions reverent as they guided the beast closer.

Caraxes let out a low, guttural rumble, his golden eyes gleaming in the low light. His saddle had been altered, now featuring two seats instead of one—a sight that sent a pang of unease through you. Jason shifted beside you, his jaw tightening as he stared at the monstrous dragon.

Daemon turned to face the small gathering, his silver hair catching the faint glow of the lava. His gaze settled on Jason, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “Lannister,” he said, his voice carrying effortlessly in the cavern. “You and I will take Harrenhal. We’ll secure it and hold it until the queen’s armies arrive.”

Jason’s brow furrowed, his green eyes narrowing as he took a step forward. “Just the two of us?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “How exactly do you plan to take and hold Harrenhal with just two men?”

Daemon’s smirk widened slightly, his confidence unwavering. “We’ll have Caraxes,” he replied simply, as though the dragon’s presence alone was answer enough.

Jason let out a sharp breath, muttering something under his breath about the Targaryen penchant for madness. He turned toward you and your daughters, his expression softening as his gaze lingered on each of you in turn. “Well,” he said quietly, “it seems I’m off to seize a haunted castle with your uncle and his overgrown lizard.”

Leona stepped forward, her amber eyes gleaming behind her golden mask. “You’ll come back,” she said firmly, though her voice carried the weight of her concern. “You always do.”

Jason managed a faint smile, resting a hand on her shoulder. “That’s the plan, my little lioness. And while I’m gone, you’ll keep your mother in line, won’t you?”

Leona smirked faintly, though her lips trembled ever so slightly. “If I must.”

Aemma moved closer, her hands twisting nervously in front of her. “Be careful, Father,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please.”

Jason knelt slightly, brushing a stray curl from her face. “I will,” he promised, his voice gentle but firm. “And you’ll look after your sister and mother while I’m gone. Deal?”

Aemma nodded quickly, her wide eyes brimming with tears. Jason straightened, turning back to you with a faintly forced smile. “And you,” he said, his voice dropping as he stepped closer, his hand brushing against your cheek. “Don’t let my absence drive you mad.”

You reached up, placing your hand over his. “I should say the same to you,” you replied softly. “Come back to us, Jason. No matter what happens, come back.”

“I will,” he promised, his voice rough with emotion. “Even if Daemon tries to throw me off Caraxes, I’ll find a way.”

Behind him, Daemon chuckled, his tone laced with dry amusement. “You’d best hold on tight, Lannister. Caraxes doesn’t take kindly to passengers who lose their nerve.”

Jason shot him a sharp look before returning his attention to you. He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before stepping back. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he said, though the anxiety in his voice betrayed his unease.

Daemon turned his gaze to you, his expression softening slightly—an unusual sight. “Guard Dragonstone,” he said firmly. “Guard the queen. She’ll need her strength now more than ever.”

You nodded, your heart heavy as you watched Jason step toward the massive dragon. Caraxes lowered himself slightly, his serpentine body coiling as Daemon climbed into the front seat of the saddle with practiced ease. Jason hesitated for only a moment before following, his movements slower and less certain.

The Dragonkeepers worked quickly to secure the straps, their hands steady despite the immense presence of the beast. Jason glanced back at you one last time, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of determination and longing. Then, with a deafening roar, Caraxes unfurled his massive wings, the wind from the motion whipping through the chamber.

The dragon launched himself into the air, his elongated form twisting as he soared upward through the volcanic shaft. The sound of his wings faded as he disappeared into the sky, leaving the chamber eerily quiet.

You stood there for a long moment, your heart aching as you stared at the empty space where Jason had stood. Leona and Aemma moved closer, their presence a small comfort as you forced yourself to turn away.

Daemon and Jason were gone, and now, all you could do was wait—and hope.

The wind roared around them as Caraxes soared high above the Riverlands, his massive wings slicing through the air with every beat. Jason clung to the saddle behind Daemon, his grip firm but cautious as he adjusted to the surreal experience of riding atop the Blood Wyrm. The landscape below stretched endlessly, a patchwork of fields and forests that blurred together in the dim light of dawn.

Jason leaned forward slightly, raising his voice to be heard over the wind. “I’ve been meaning to ask, Targaryen,” he began, his tone edged with curiosity. “The second assassin—the rat catcher. Did he escape?”

Daemon’s head turned slightly, though he didn’t look back. “He did,” he replied, his voice calm, though the words carried a sharp undertone. “The rat vanished into the bowels of the Red Keep. But it doesn’t matter. The debt has been paid.”

Jason’s brows furrowed, his tone more pointed now. “You think killing Helaena’s son is payment enough? What about the one who got away? He could still be a threat.”

Daemon scoffed, his grip tightening on the reins as Caraxes tilted slightly in the air. “The debt was son for a son, Lannister. Lucerys is avenged, and the Greens will know the pain we’ve endured. The rat catcher is insignificant.”

Jason frowned, leaning back slightly as he considered Daemon’s words. “Insignificant,” he muttered under his breath, though the roar of the wind drowned out the rest of his thought.

The two lapsed into silence for a time, the only sound the rhythmic beat of Caraxes’ wings and the distant howl of the wind. As the sprawling ruins of Harrenhal came into view, Jason spoke again, his tone shifting to something lighter, though no less deliberate.

“When we reach Harrenhal,” he began, “let me do the talking with Lord Simon Strong. My charm is far more convincing than your... let’s call it directness.”

Daemon barked a short laugh, the sound carried away by the wind. “Charm, is it?” he retorted, his tone dripping with mockery. “The only person who finds you charming, Lannister, is your wife. And even she must have her doubts from time to time.”

Jason smirked faintly, leaning forward again. “I’ve charmed more people than you think, Targaryen. And in case you’ve forgotten, we need Lord Simon and the Strong forces if we’re to hold the Riverlands.”

Daemon didn’t reply immediately, his focus shifting to the dark silhouette of Harrenhal looming on the horizon. When he did speak, his voice was colder, more resolute. “We’re not coming to Harrenhal to negotiate,” he said bluntly. “We’re going in, killing anyone who stands in our way, and taking the castle. If Lord Simon wants to talk, he’ll have to be very convincing.”

Jason sighed heavily, muttering under his breath again, though this time Daemon caught it.

“What was that, Lannister?” Daemon asked, his tone edged with amusement.

Jason raised his voice, his frustration more evident now. “I said you’re about as subtle as a dragon in a dining hall. Maybe if we didn’t kill every potential ally outright, we’d find more people willing to support Rhaenyra.”

Daemon smirked, though his eyes remained fixed on the castle ahead. “Subtlety has its place,” he said, his voice smooth. “But not here. Harrenhal isn’t won with words, Lannister. It’s won with fire and blood.”

Jason shook his head, though his grip on the saddle tightened as Caraxes began to descend. The jagged towers of Harrenhal grew larger with every passing second, their scorched stone walls standing as a grim reminder of the castle’s cursed history.

“Well,” Jason muttered, his voice low but resigned. “If this is how we’re doing it, let’s make it quick. I’d rather not be here longer than necessary.”

Daemon’s smirk widened as he guided Caraxes toward a crumbled section of the castle’s outer wall. “Don’t worry, Lannister,” he said, his tone laced with dark humor. “You’ll be back on the ground before you have time to lose your nerve.”

Caraxes let out a deafening roar as he descended, his massive claws raking against the stone as he landed with a bone-shaking thud. Jason swallowed hard, steeling himself as he prepared to dismount.

“Fire and blood,” Daemon murmured, his voice barely audible over the dragon’s growls.

Jason exhaled sharply, muttering under his breath as he followed Daemon’s lead. “More like madness and mayhem.”

Daemon chuckled, the sound low and dangerous as the two men prepared to take Harrenhal.

[himbodruid]

In celebration of the Sylus banner releasing, here’s the first part to my Sylus fic!

Sylus x named!mc | Touch her and 💀 vibes | Possessive Sylus

Intended for 18+ readers, MINORS DNI

Read on Ao3

Part 2 | Part 3 (coming soon)

A Kitten and A Crow

His irritation was nearly palpable as negotiations dragged on and on. Sylus let his crimson gaze flick around the men sitting at the table around him, trying to bargain for their safety in his territory while they do some bogus business deal. Really, the whole thing was boring, and that itself is what irritated him the most.

His phone began to buzz in his pocket, which brought a welcomed distraction. A slight smirk played at the corner of his mouth as the name ‘kitten’ flashed across the screen as the incoming call. She always seemed to know when he was bored.

“Gentlemen, I am afraid we will have to continue these negotiations another time,” was all the explanation he gave before rising and walking from the table. He reached the other room, thumbing the answer button and holding the phone to his ear. Before he could even greet her, a scuffle sounded and the call disconnected.

“Mephisto,” was all he had to say before the crow flew through the window with a croaking call in the night. He tapped her name in the call log to dial her phone, pushing down the anxiety that threatened to crack the iron hold he had on his composure.

“Kitten?” He questioned when the call connected.

“S-Sy,” came her labored breathing. A pained whine escaped from her and he growled.

“Where are you?” His query came as a sharp demand, grateful that he had already sent Mephisto to find her.

“Sylus, d-don’t-“ her words ended in a cry as the sharp crack of flesh connecting with flesh came across the line. Rage pulsed through Sylus at the sound of a struggle, the phone being kicked away, before the line went dead.

The deep crimson-streaked shadows shrouded him without a second thought, transporting him to the rooftops for some sort of vantage point. He couldn’t feel her aether core anymore, the ever present hum that had become a source of comfort, but he somehow knew she was still within the N109 Zone. Within his territory.

There. A signal from Mephisto and the copper stench of fresh blood flooded his senses as he followed the crow’s direction in his signature shadowy cloak.

He arrived in the alleyway that Mephisto hovered over, mere blocks away from his own base. A man held her limp form by the throat, gloating to her unconscious figure.

“Once we get that Onychinus bastard out here, he’s done for!” Maniacal laughter followed his statement as he tossed her haphazardly to the side.

“Ah. So, you intended for a trap, then,” Sylus said with a deadly calm, dropping into the mouth of the alleyway from the cloud of darkness.

“Hah! It’s true! The hunter is your weakness after all,” said the man as he turned his wild gaze on the newcomer. Sylus didn’t recognize him, but figured the idiot must be from an opposing faction.

“Do you know what happens when you touch what is mine,” he said with a voice full of venom, striding into the alley. But the man only grinned, lifting a pistol to aim at Sylus. A threat that Sylus pointedly ignored as he continued forward.

Mephisto landed next to Helene, giving his observation. Bruised and battered, and a deep gash in her side that was cause for concern. She was alive, but didn’t have the luxury of time.

“Lets end this quickly,” Sylus said, disappearing into that crimson darkness and reappearing right before the man.

“Your evol is useless against me, crow,” the man cackled, aiming the pistol right for Sylus’ head. “I’ve been given a glorious chance to take down the biggest threat to our company. These bullets have been specially manufactured with your evol in mind.”

The man pulled the trigger, fully trusting that his employers had told him correct information. What they didn’t tell him, however, is the ethereal speed at with Sylus could use his evol. The bullet ripped through empty air while Sylus rematerialized behind him.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” he growled into the man’s ear before an onyx blade appeared in his hand. His arm thrust forward. A strangled gurgle was the final sound the man made as Sylus plunged that blade into his heart from behind. He twisted it for good measure, lamenting that he couldn’t do what he really wanted to.

Sylus dropped to a knee by Helene’s side before the stranger’s corpse even hit the pavement. He brushed her blood-streaked hair from her frighteningly pale face before lifting her in his arms. It still amazed him how light she was, considering how much she ate at any given meal.

A vehicle pulled into the mouth of the alley, giving Sylus a brief pause before he realized it was his own car and the twins sat in the front.

Luke hopped out from the passenger seat and opened the door for him, Sylus carrying her frighteningly limp form forward. A hand reached out to help steady her as he shuffled into the back, but he felt a growl rumble in his chest and he clutched her tighter to himself. Luke backed off without a word, hands held up to placate the boss.

It had only taken minutes to find her, but each second that had ticked by since the call first disconnected felt like a lifetime.

[creepyclothdoll]

I set Angel Free

All of this is gonna sound pretty mean but let me preface this by saying that this girl, Angel, thought she was God’s gift. And I mean that in the most literal sense. Like she’d literally introduce herself by saying, 

“My name is Angel, because I’m a gift from Heaven.”

She’d say it with this smile that was so fake and sickly-sweet you could taste your teeth rotting just looking at it. All her mannerisms were stolen from disney movies, like how she’d talk in this high-pitched little girl voice that she thought made her seem so cute. Like, yeah, yeah, you’re supposed to be nice to people like that, but it was so hard to tolerate her. 

So we messed with her. It wasn’t because she was in a wheelchair, I wanna make that clear. I don’t have a problem with people in wheelchairs. Just Angel. You’d feel the same way if you knew her. Honestly everyone did. 

She literally didn’t know where babies came from. Like one time my friends were joking about having Nick Jonas’s babies and Angel was like “how would you make the baby his?” And we had to literally explain to her where babies come from and ask where she thought they came from. She said, and I quote,

“When a mommy makes a very special wish, and gives it a special kiss and sends it to God, God cuts a piece of Heaven in the shape of a baby and wraps it in the wish and sends it back to the mommy, to grow up and be loved and kept safe on the earth forever.”

This was, by far, the stupidest thing I ever heard in my entire life. So of course I responded by telling her her mommy was lying to her, most likely because she was a whore. 

This made everyone at lunch laugh really hard because her mom, Ms CJ, was the school’s frumpiest old cat lady, and she literally had those 80’s coke-bottle glasses like that guy from Trailer Park Boys and the idea of her getting sexed up for dollar bills was enough to make you piss yourself laughing. 

Angel started crying and doing that annoying pouting thing. Frankly I doubt she even knew what a whore was, just that it was bad. I think she wanted to storm off, but it’s not like she could go very far. Which I pointed out as well, to uproarious laughter. 

Okay again, I don’t have an issue with people in wheelchairs. It was just really easy to mess with her. But this was the incident that, for some reason, made everyone think of me as the Designated Angel Watchman. Like, any time Angel did anything weird and cringey, everyone would look at me like they were Jim from the Office and I was the camera. And then if I didn’t say something funny about it, they’d get all disappointed. But when I did say something funny, it became the new Angel Thing Of The Week that everyone would be saying in the halls between classes, and I’d feel like a genius. Did it go too far sometimes? Sure. But that’s not my fault. All Angel ever had to do was act like a normal person for once and it all would have stopped. 

Angel was homeschooled her whole life until seventh grade, which is probably why she was so weird. 

I wanna be clear– she wasn’t like, mentally disabled or anything like that. That would make me look pretty bad. She was just weird. She was always singing by herself– pop songs, disney princess songs, sometimes songs in japanese from anime. She was convinced she had the best voice in the class, and flaunted it all the time like she thought we were gonna be impressed. She wore these huge ugly cat sweaters with glitter and frills every single day. 

And any time we watched a movie in class, she’d laugh this awful snickering long laugh at ANY joke and then bawl her goddamn eyes out if there was even a little bit of a sad part. It was so annoying!

She refused to do anything outside her comfort zone– no scary stories, no new foods, no games she’d never played before. She turned her nose up at anything unfamiliar.

So let me be clear: Angel deserved most of what we did to her. 

But she didn’t deserve what I did that last day.

Before I met Angel, I thought Ms CJ was okay. After, though, I realized she was batshit. She only let Angel come to our school for seventh grade because she knew she’d be Angel’s homeroom teacher and that she’d be able to flit in and coddle her throughout the day. Ms CJ was Angel’s constant guardian, which should be humiliating for anyone who has shame, but Angel loved the attention. She’d beg Ms CJ to stay with her longer every time she popped in during class. And that sucked, because I couldn’t say shit about anything cringe Angel did when Ms CJ was around, so I missed a lot of really good opportunities to mess with her. 

Ms CJ always sat with her daughter at lunch, which was honestly bad parenting because there was no way Angel would ever be able to make any friends like that. Ms CJ never let Angel join the rest of us for recess. Or for field trips. Once during a group project in French class, as a joke, I invited Angel to a made-up party in the woods. Angel replied by saying,

“I can’t go if it’s in the woods, silly! My mommy doesn’t let me outside!”

She said this like it was the most normal thing in the world for her, so I asked some clarifying questions. She explained, in her girly sing-song voice, that she’s not ever allowed to be outside for more than a few seconds at a time, and only when her mommy is there to hold her hand. 

“My mommy doesn’t want me to get lost,” she said.

“It’s not like you can run away,” I joked.

“I can run,” Angel replied, pouting. “Look.” She kicked her legs slightly. I heard the clack of chains. 

That was the first time I ever noticed that Angel was shackled around her ankles. 

“I run all the time at home,” Angel bragged. “I run alllll over, over all the rooms. I wish I could run here too, but it’s too dangerous. The windows,” she added, like that would clarify it. I was baffled. So she didn’t even need the wheelchair.

“Um, why are you chained? Are you like, under house arrest or something?” I asked.

“No. My mommy just doesn’t want me to get lost. She’s the only one with the key.”

“Your mommy sounds like a psycho. You should call the cops,” I replied.

The French teacher overheard her crying and she got me sent to the principal’s office again. But I swear this time I wasn’t being smart or anything, I was genuinely freaked out for her. I told my friends, who all agreed with me that it was weird. But I guess I hadn’t been the first one to notice the chains. The others who had assumed it was because Angel was like, prone to fits or something. That made sense for Angel, but it still made me feel weird and didn’t sit right.

My mommy doesn’t want me to get lost.

I started to feel sorry for her. She was still weird and annoying, but she was weird and annoying because her mom was out of her mind and wouldn’t let her be a normal kid. How was she supposed to learn to be normal if she couldn’t even go outside, for god’s sake? 

I still messed with Angel when she did weird stuff like quote anime characters in class and bring stuffed animals to school. But if it was ever just her and me, I was nice to her and asked her stuff about her life. 

Her favorite movie was The Little Mermaid. No, she had never been to summer camp. Her favorite time of the week was church. She disliked onions and wanted to be a vegetarian except that her mom was very insistent about her getting enough protein in her diet. She loved those Warrior cat books and wanted to be a veterinarian someday. She didn’t have a dad. Ms CJ took the shackles off her ankles only once they were inside their house and all the doors and windows were closed and locked. That was also when Ms CJ took the locked metal bar off of her chair so she could get up. The bar went over her waist and prevented her from standing. She wore those big ugly cat sweaters every day so we wouldn’t see it. Her mom didn’t want people to know about her special condition, which, as far as I could tell, was all made-up. Any time I asked about her “condition,” she’d just say some stuff about being a very special heaven baby or whatever.

“Do you ever think about running away?” I asked finally. “Why don’t you just… leave?”

She looked shocked.

“Of course not!” she said. “I love my mommy. Where would I even go?” She shuddered visibly. 

The shudder pissed me off. I blew up at her and called her a whiny scaredy baby until she cried, and I got sent to the principal again. 

 She didn’t even want to be normal. That’s what pissed me off the most. 

It was springtime, and the snow was finally mostly gone. I’d been in Mr Bevends’ science class before, so I knew what to expect that day– first real nice day of spring was always a “class outside” day. We’d go out and look at moss and leaf buds and stuff and he’d talk about natural changes during the season. It was all a big excuse for us to get outside– no one liked it more than Mr Bevends himself. He was so excited to announce we were taking class outside, he didn’t even notice Angel’s face go stark white as he led the rest of the class out the doors.

“I– I can’t–” she stuttered, but I interrupted her.

“It’s the most beautiful day in months,” I said. “It’s a perfect day. You’ll love it.”

“I’m not allowed,” she whispered, embarrassed. 

“You wanna be a baby forever?” I said. “Come on. You’ve never broken a single rule in your life. Live a little.”

After a long moment, Angel nodded. She followed me out the back doors of the school, onto the sidewalk. I walked next to her for awhile. She looked scared, but also fascinated by the dripping icicles from the roof gutter above us, and the ice-blue sky above, and the rows of black trees stretching up into the air. 

“It’s cold,” she said. 

“Yeah, that happens when you’re outside for more than a few seconds.”

“I think… I like the cold.”

We caught up to the rest of the science class, and listened to Mr Bevends talk about leaves and crap. Angel oscilated between this vibrating excitement and a frightened, hunted look, like her mom was gonna show up at any second and punish her for disobeying and doing one normal thing in her life. Angel touched the trees reverently. My friends made fun of her for “fondling the foliage.” I didn’t join in this time. I had bigger things planned.

When we broke off into groups of two, I went with Angel. My friends knew I was up to something great then, so they followed us, chuckling eagerly. I grinned back at them when Angel wasn’t looking.

We were supposed to identify different types of trees in the woods behind the school. I helped push Angel’s chair up the hill– it was insanely heavy. The wheels snagged on the muddy grass, but it didn’t matter. It’s not like she actually needed the thing.

“What are you doing?” Angel asked with rising terror as I leaned over her and produced the key. 

Everyone knew Mr Bevends always had class outside the first nice day of spring. It was really easy to slip the key from Ms CJ’s lanyard when she always left it out on her desk during homeroom. It was the one with little white wings on the chain. 

“I’m setting you free,” I said. I unlocked the shackles around her feet first, then the bar around her waist. She screamed at me to stop the entire time, but I knew I was doing the right thing. Someone had to teach her to be independent. Someone had to throw her out of her comfort zone. 

And that’s what I did. I set Angel free.

Angel rose from the chair. 

And rose. And rose.

Her shoes went over her head. She kicked her legs wildly as they drifted rapidly upwards. Angel shrieked and tried to grab onto the top of the chair– the handles, even trying to clutch a handful of my hair– desperate to stay anchored to the ground. But it was too late. She was already six feet in the air. 

Then twelve. 

Then thirty.

I couldn’t do anything other than watch on in shock as Angel shot up into the sky like a helium balloon. She twisted and clawed at the open air. 

It happened in seconds. One second, we were watching Angel make frantic grabbing motions at the ground, howling with terror, and the next second all we could see of her was the glint of the sunlight on her glittery pink cat sweater as she disappeared up into the vast emptiness above.

When Mr Bevends came to see what was the matter, all any of us could do was to point up. But by then, she was just a pinprick against the deep, endless blue sky. 

Then there was nothing.

[blippymilk]

Clay Headcannons (Romantic)

Genre: Fluff, Romantic

Warnings: None

A/N: I love Clay so much so I genuinely enjoyed writing this 🤗

✩ The best boyfriend you could ever ask for hands down

✩There’s quite litteraly no one like Clay

✩ You fell first but he definitely fell harder

✩ Words of affirmation + physical touch kinda guy

✩ In the beginning of your relationship he’s not very touchy especially not in public

✩ But once he gets attached it’s over 🫡

✩ Always has to be touching you in some way

✩ Hand holding, waist hugs, neck kisses, and anything else you can think of

✩ Even when he’s working in his office he doesn’t mind you sitting on his lap as he works

✩ You had to be the one who could convince this man that it’s ok to be serious AND fun sometimes

“But what if people think I’m too silly again? My fun boy Clay days are over.” :((

“But there’s also nothing wrong with having fun from time to time too sweetie.”

✩ Wasn’t very open to expressing his emotions before he met you

✩ You had to let him know that it was ok to rant to you (and he’s still adjusting but he’s way better at it now)

✩ Please join his sad book club ok >:((

✩ Best dancing partner. EVER.

✩ If you’re at a party with Clay and there’s a dance floor

✩ Everybody getting left in the dust. Including you after a period of time 😭

✩ This man has past experiences with his boy band so he never lost his moves. If you can push him out of his comfort zone for the night, he’s gonna end up the center of attention.

✩ Clay’s not no mean troll, but he will got to war for his s/o and that’s a fact

✩ He can be very extra without realizing it, especially with the little details (bcs that’s just who Clay is :D)

✩ Don’t let him catch you singing any of his Brozone songs (especially his part). He will be all over you for the rest of the day, teasing you and kissing every inch of your face until no area goes untouched

✩ Wanna get Clay flustered? Tell him he has a beautiful voice and you love to hear him sing

✩ Will 100% start humming to you before bed

✩ You’re the reason Clay started to let up and not focus on working 24/7, 24 hours a week. And Viva noticed that (and she thanked you for helping him relax bcs she’s tired of seeing him stress)

✩ But also please thank him for working so hard to become a licensed CPA. He loves the sound of his job and loves to hear you say it too.

✩ Definitely the big spoon when it’s time to get comfy at night. Being so much taller than you, he likes to consider himself “the one in control”

✩ Loves when you play in and take care of his hair like your own.

✩ Loves a good relaxing “spa” (self care) day. A day where you two, and ONLY you two get to sit back and treat yourselves. Facials, hair care, bubble bath, back massages, etc.

✩ Viva made you a matching sweater romper and you put it on for Clay. Let’s just say that was the best decision ever.

✩ Just like you do for him, he appreciates everything you do. Like no matter what it is, he supports you and he’ll be there every step of the way.

✩ You never have to worry a day in your life about Clay cheating, or finding “someone better”

✩ One time during whatever the situation was that had you guys dancing, you spun away from Clay and a new girl quickly replaced you for him to dip her. And he let her go as soon as she even slightly tilted.

“Clay, why did you drop her?!”

“She was kinda close to me and I don’t know how you or I feel about that to be honest.”

✩ (dw he apologized after)

✩ Clay can be really serious. Or really, really, really, reallyyy, corny. 😐

“Babe, did you know my favorite word is universe? Because it starts with U-N-I.”

“Are you wifi? Because I’m tryna hook up.”

“I heard kissing is a love language. Tryna start a conversation?”

“Are you my grades as a kid? Cause your bad AF.”

“Oh my gosh- CLAY-!”

✩ Overall Clay is an amazingly sweet well rounded man

✩ Never lose him

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐈𝐀𝐍.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — MITCH MARNER x reader (est. relationship) wc — 4.5k synopsis — think hilary duff’s balcony engagement circa 2007

note — this belongs to the i don't remember this bar collection

specific content warnings below the cut.

cw — profanity and other vulgar language, taking the lord’s name in vain + other religious-ish imagery, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected PIV intercourse (multiple) + creampie/breeding kink, discussion/thoughts of cum play, outdoor sex and mention of previous exhibitionism, mention of previous choking + breath play (f!reader receiving), pain kink situation (both), one line of blood play (f!reader receiving), justified violence (not directed at reader!!!), slight d/s dynamics, and possessive!mitch being a domestic little horndog

“Before we talk about that beautiful, game-tying goal in the tail-end of the second and your overall command of the offensive zone throughout tonight’s game, I first want to congratulate you on some major life news. A few weeks belated; my apologies.

For those who don’t know, you came back from the All-Star break with more than just a tan; you came back with—and as—a fiancé.”

Mitch does nothing to dim his megawatt smile or to dull the sparkle in his eyes. The mere mention of you coaxes out an impossibly giddier version of himself, unencumbered by the stress and pressure of a waning season. It’s always been that way.

It's difficult to remember a time before you. He doesn't want to.

Despite of meeting on arguably one of the worst nights of his life, somehow, all he feels when the memory rises to the surface of his mind is joy.

He remembers your laughter, warm and buoyant, and the way the low light painted flattering shadows across your kind face as you spoke animatedly about your passions and dreams. He remembers being treated like a person before anything else, not some character in a video game or a pawn in someone else’s fantasy league, and he recalls your fervent, genuine interest in his off-ice hobbies. Not once did you ask anything invasive or demand he share more than he was willing.

Nor did you fish for tickets.

For Mitch, privacy was paramount, and the sentiment echoed throughout your lengthy relationship. It was your through-line, and it should’ve blanketed the intimate proposal in safety.

He gets hot under the collar just thinking about it.

Mitch will entertain the host’s questions to an extent. Because, despite his insistence on privacy, he will never pass up an opportunity to sing your praises or brag about his luck.

“Did you bring anything else back? Any special souvenir to commemorate such a momentous occasion?”

Mitch is instantly hard, his pale cheeks ablaze, eternally grateful that the camera is filming from the chest up.

Carried in on a warm evening breeze, the evocation is so palpable he can taste the blue curaçao on his tongue and feel its muted burn in the back of his throat. The air smells of pineapple and your fragrant shampoo, a comforting scent that clings to him like a second skin. The phantom of your touch sends a shiver down the expanse of his sore, sweat-drenched back.

“—holy fuck.”

The crinkled, two-word curse tumbles from Mitch’s mouth with little effort.

Every modicum of tact was either battling against the warm rum coursing through his body or fighting to keep his guttural, damning moans at bay.

They are getting hot and heavy on a patio, after all.

Mitch knows this isn’t smart. He knows he should’ve moved the celebration indoors, that he should've waited until you were curtained in safety to give in to his desire and your wandering hands.

He knows, he knows, he knows.

The problem is he just doesn’t care.

Mitch wasn’t about to delay the appreciative mouth of the woman he was going to make his wife, not even for a second.

Even if she dropped to her knees with only a hedge to play look-out. A line of decorative foliage is their first and final defense, the leaves carelessly swaying between them and the rest of the luxury resort he booked for All-Star weekend.

It’s difficult to make sound decisions when the hand wrapped around your cock is newly weighed down by five carats.

The dazzling rock shines proudly in the concluding rays of a setting sun. Glittery and perfect, like the woman who wears it.

Mitch hisses when the tip taps the back of your throat for the first time that night. The sensitive skin melts into your tongue like an ice cube, the creamy droplets of anticipation swallowed greedily by your ravenous mouth. He sees stars in the cotton candy sky peeking through the palm trees.

It hasn’t been that long; his day began with your nose nuzzled against his pelvis, his head limp against the cool tile of the shower a few feet away.

When it comes to you, nothing is ever enough to curb his appetite.

Always needy, never satiated—a pair of perverted peas in a pod.

Your tongue repeats the delicious motion it had previously, too, lazily tracing along the underside of his length until he’s whimpering with no regard for anything besides spilling himself down your throat. He feels you smile around his thickness, pleased by the ease of his undoing. You were damn good; you deserved to be proud.

In all honesty, it took very little effort on your part to make him weak in both his knees and in his resolve.

However, there was a special kind of magic in your pretty face, now dusted by a salty sheen, nestled against his taut abdomen, his cock engulfed by the vice-grip of your throat.

Mitch is close already.

White-hot sparks descend through his quads and calves to zap his sandy toes. Electrified, his hips sputter of their own volition, but like the godsend you are, you accommodate every jolt and tilt in stride.

With one hand braced against his hip and the other gently massaging the heavy weight of his balls cradled in your palm, you peer up at him through a fan of fluttering lashes.

He whines—at the mischievous glint in your glassy eyes or the bite of your manicure as you sink your nails into his burnt skin, he can’t be sure.

Some of your fingers curl into the nasty bruise eating up his lower back, the by-product of a gruesome communion with the ice a few days prior. Sharp nails nip at the fragile skin. Mitch doesn’t know if the twinge of pain was intentional on your part, but he loves it either way. Perhaps a little too much, he thinks to himself as he twitches violently in your grasp.

And perhaps you aren't the only one with a masochistic streak. It's clear from the heaviness of your lids the converse applies to you.

His sweetheart's sick and sadistic. He's never been prouder.

“Get off,” he husks. Abruptly, he steps out from your embrace.

In retrospect, Mitch could’ve been nicer about it. At that moment, however, he was far too desperate for chivalry.

Staring down at your wide, despondent eyes—a pup deprived of her favorite bone—your fiancé amends, “Calm down, sweetheart. I’ll give it back soon. There’s no way in hell I’m wasting a load in your mouth when I know how good your pussy feels around my cock.”

Heat scales Mitch’s spine as he spreads you wide open against the chaise. Your folds glow brighter than the jewelry on your left hand.

With the tip of his finger, he tests the waters. Gingerly, at first, like he's still unsure you'll be able to take him. That charade hardly lasts, but tonight, it's barely a blip.

Your body eagerly welcomes the attention, mouthing at him before sucking the touch past the taut, elastic ring of your entrance. Your faint groans elicited by the intrusion harmonize so sweetly, so perfectly, that Mitch’s eyes fall shut in tranquil bliss.

When your hips rock against his palm, they snap open.

Blinking at him hard and fast, your teeth sink into your bottom lip, turning the plushness a sickly shade of pink—of desperation. Tears crowd your lash line but never cascade down your shiny cheeks; they, like you, are impatiently waiting for reprimand.

Mitch almost laughs. You did jump the gun, so he can't fault you for expecting the corresponding punishment. But it's a special occasion—you're celebrating, so it never manifests.

And Mitch wants to do more than just spank you silly. Plenty of time for that later. A lifetime's worth of it.

Instead, with the flick of his wrist, Mitch encourages you to take your pleasure.

The subtle, tantalizing movements, building in speed and ferocity with each pass, beckon him forward until his sunburnt skin is close enough to burn yours. Feeling you beneath him, feeling his weight rest against your body, feels better than heaven, and he’s barely started.

Like before, Mitch is painfully aware he won’t be able to last long. Judging by how silky-slick you are against his palm, you won’t be either.

With his free hand, he catches your jaw and, with little resistance, tilts your head to keep your gaze from straying. Your mouth falls open when he slips another finger inside. Mitch grins down at your lust-blown pupils and the feel of your hot breath against his lips. He leans down and licks into your idle mouth. A third finger causes your bottom lip to tremble between his and your forehead to ease, every little muscle going soft and pliant between the cushion and his chest.

“Atta girl,” Mitch praises. His lips press briefly to your cheek before beginning their descent along your throat. The touch is featherlight and sends a shiver down your spine, coaxing your chest further into his. “—love seeing you like this, all beautiful and open. And all fucking mine.”

Mitch wouldn't necessarily consider himself a territorial person, and he can't recall ever feeling possessive of a partner. Until he met you.

It had nothing to do with trust or a lack thereof; you were his the minute your eyes met through the crowd, and you reassured him of that fact constantly. It was never you that needed a reminder—it was everybody else.

The men who openly leer at you from every corner of Scotiabank Arena. The NHL hopefuls in your Instagram comments shamelessly flirting as if he didn’t exist or wasn’t in the photo, too. The unprofessional commentators who found ways to sneak in a lecherous comment or two under the guise of camaraderie whenever they spoke about his prowess.

You weren’t some object to be won or bought. You made a choice, and he’d make sure they knew and respected it.

Sure, the engagement ring will aid in this up-hill endeavor, but a little due diligence never hurt either.

“Tonight, it's gonna take. I’m making damn sure of that, sweetheart.”

Your walls squeeze his digits in recognition. Mitch chuckles, dark and dry, against your shoulder. You might like the implication more than he does.

You two weren’t trying, but you weren’t not trying either. Seeing you wearing his ring—the one he picked and purchased—kicked him down a perverted spiral. Flipped the last switch, cut the final cord. He wanted to complete the picture. He wanted to give those good-for-nothing losers one more reason to keep their mouths shut and their eyes to themselves.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Love for me to fill you in a way that’ll last? C’mon, sweetheart, tell me what you want. Tell me how badly you want to be stuffed full of me, how much your pussy needs it—how badly you want to be heavy and swollen with my kid."

Mitch tends to your clit, keeping you borderline incoherent as he tickles your ears with more filth before you can reply to the first goading.

Your eventual responses are muffled by a long, primal whine.

When he has you swaying on the brink of collapse, he’s painfully hard against your inner thigh. There's an iridescent river pearling from the weeping head, freely flowing down to pool beneath your ass. It beams in the dim light like a beacon.

Transfixed and desperately in love, Mitch could cum right now. Just like this.

But staining a stupid fucking cushion would be more of a waste than shooting himself your throat. So, much to your chagrin, he, once again, retreats back onto his knees.

“C-come back,” you whimper with a loud hiccup. The choked sound is as pitiful as your attempts to reach for him. “Please, please, please—”

Satisfaction spreads over the bridge of his nose, leaving him rosy from one cheek to the other. He pins you with a heated, half-lid stare as he strokes himself.

His palm doesn’t feel as good as yours, but Mitch is grateful for that. He wants to drag this out. Instead of rutting into you like a teenager in the backseat of a car, or like himself after a long stint away.

That can’t—and won’t—happen if he keeps touching you. He has to back off before he loses his ever-loving mind.

“Stop being a tease,” you chide. Irritation weighs heavily on your voice. “Haven’t I waited long enough?”

“There’s something I want you to see first, you little brat,” he replies, adopting your sharp tone as he brings his open palm down on your inner thigh.

You shriek, but your eyes beg for another. Maybe he shouldn't have cut you any slack earlier...

He grants your silent wish with a matching blow to the other side before guiding his rigid cock to rest over your body.

And it was better than Mitch ever imagined.

He groans at the sight, “Can you see it? Can you, sweetheart?”

Mitch waits patiently for it to click in your mind, but the confusion that swiftly overtook your fucked-out features never dissipates. Eyes rolling, he shifts forward. Hand still wrapped around the base, Mitch leans over until the full length of him sits against your bare stomach.

Your body quivers over the contact, so he has to hold your hips down to keep you from wiggling and ruining everything.

“I know you can feel it, but I want you to see it. I want you to see how deep I get inside of you, sweetheart. All the way up…” Mitch trails off as his hands glide from your outer hips to the center of your abdomen.

His voice is so deep. So hungry. Your whole being—mind and body—goes weak at the foreign richness.

With tender thumbs, he applies pressure beneath his swollen tip. “—here.”

Mitch moves slowly at first, as if he'd just been sheathed inside of you. With each careful thrust, his stones caress your aching clit, all puffy and pouting.

It feels wonderful to be touched again, even if only in short bursts. But it's not enough friction or force to do much more than aggravate you further. Even when he picks up speed, it’s more hurtful than helpful.

Still, you cannot tear your eyes away from the angry, ruddy head dribbling out ropes of arousal or voice a shred of discontent. The opaque beads form a nonsensical pattern, but it's mesmerizing nonetheless.

If you were any less needy, you’d take your time running your fingers through the milky mess. Swirling around in the evidence of Mitch’s desire until you had enough to lick clean.

As if privy to your thoughts, he pins your wrists at your sides again.

Mitch isn’t faring much better than you. His eyes are trained on the shadow bisecting your middle. Locked, laser-focused. This little…exercise was as much for his amusement as it is for your education. He knows how far he can reach inside of you—knows how fucking fantastic it feels to be buried at the root, but seeing just how deeply he can fuck you is something else entirely.

It's enough to make him question why and how he ever stops fucking you. He’s an idiot for depriving himself. For neglecting you. An exercise in frustration as much as his fruitless effort to shun the rose-colored perversions dancing wild in his mind, Mitch has wasted so much time.

Fuck penance and fuck propriety—it would be a sin to do anything other than worship at your altar as a devoted acolyte. Cardinal, even.

His stomach tightens as he considers how empty you must feel in his absence—and how deliciously whole you must feel when he drives home. He wonders how forlorn your folds must look right now as he keeps what you covet just out of bounds. His body obstructs the view, but Mitch knows you’re open and fluttering around nothing, pleading for mercy.

If he were a cruel man, he’d ignore your begging and continue on like this until his balls were empty and your chest was covered in ivory threads. Lucky for you, your future husband is of the clement variety.

Before you can get another babble, his mouth is back on yours. He keeps your arms tight to your sides, so you’re incentivized to convey your fervent need for more—of anything, really—through your lips and tongue.

Mitch is greedy when he kisses you and needy while lapping up your fire—happily, and without pause. His head pounds like he finished a handle in a single sip, but he doesn’t want it to stop. Ever. It’s disorienting, and yet, he can’t seem to get enough no matter how much of you he drinks down. Mitch wants to spend the rest of his life drunk on your lips.

Begrudgingly, he tears his mouth from yours. Then, tanned chest heaving, he positions himself between your glistening southern lips. Mitch looks down at you, and when your vision finally focuses, his eyes have been shadowed in darkness by his hulking brow.

His prior impatience dwindles ever so slightly even though he's on the precipice of complete satisfaction. Mitch hasn’t gotten a good look at you since your nimble hands relieved him of his shorts some twenty minutes ago, and you are glorious. A celestial nymph with dominion over his heart, devastatingly beautiful and all-consuming in every conceivable way. The hold you have over him is dangerous, verging on obsession. There isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do or say if it appeased you so.

He isn’t fearful. He’s honored. The gratitude he feels knowing that you were, and remain, receptive to his devotion is overwhelming. And now, watching the lucid waters of lust ebb and flow in your glazed eyes, he’s never felt luckier.

Mitch thumbs the gem resting atop your finger, and you shudder as if it were the one tucked between your thighs.

His other hand lingers around your right wrist, though not as tightly as before. With his pulsing head shallow in your heat, he knows you’ll behave. Disrupting him now would only prolong his teasing. A lesson you learned—and were often reminded of—the hard way.

As his fingers trace the metallic band, warmed by the tropical sun and his furnace-like touch, Mitch pushes his hips forward, slow and steady, until he’s fully enveloped by your wanting walls. With your snug, pillowy softness stretching and constricting to accommodate his generous blessing, his grip on reality slips.

“You’re a fucking dream,” your fiancé rasps.

His hands are now splayed wide on either side of your head, effectively caging you beneath him as he builds a faithful rhythm. Teeth clenched, he works diligently to fashion a tribute worthy of your ethereal beauty and power.

“—always so warm and wet for me, just begging to be split open on my thick fuckin' cock. How long have you been this needy, sweetheart? Since I bent you over on the boat? Right over the railing where anyone could’ve seen you?”

You nod, bruised bottom lip pinched between your teeth. Tears well in your eyes.

Your afternoon tryst had been as quick as it’d been rough. Sundress bunched high, the fragile fabric wrinkled between your hips and the cool metal railing as Mitch’s right hand wrapped around your throat. His talented fingers pressed firmly into your sun-kissed skin, relentless in their torment, as he pawed at the pathetic knot struggling to hold your bathing suit in place. His mouth curled into a smirk as it whispered a heady mix of degradation and praise. All while you preened for him, a large crowd just steps away.

That wasn't the first orgasm you were robbed of today.

The hem of the thin material that clung to your anguished body floated demurely above your ankles, landing just shy of the bone. The sullied garment hid the incriminating evidence that inched down your sore thighs with every step you took. The irony was not lost on you as you walked back to your room.

“D’you know how hard it was to stop myself from fucking you in front of all those people? To hold back like that—to not bend you over and take in broad daylight? Of course you do, you sweet, sadistic minx. You always know how to rile me up—and you always find a reason to.”

Mitch grins against your lips before his teeth momentarily replace yours. They nestle into the grooves as if that was the expressed purpose of the faint indentations.

“With the way you’ve been behaving, I’m willing to bet you want a better souvenir than a gift shop tchotchke, hm? Y'gotta be patient for me, though—good girls wait for their rewards. Jus' wait… Oh, I don’t know, nine months? Give or take? Think you can do that for me?"

He’s being cheeky on purpose. He likes the way gentle irritation plays out between your legs—always has and always will.

Mitch releases your lower lip again, but only after he’s nicked it with his canines. A dainty bead of crimson materializes. Covetous, his tongue laps it up without pause. Painted lips kiss from cheek to cheek.

Your back arches. Your hips lift to rock in time with his thrusts.

“God, I can’t wait till we get those fuckin’ keys,” Mitch mumbles, almost absentmindedly.

The lean muscles of his upper body ripple as he sits up to grab ahold of your jaw, a calloused hand on either side. He has an unimpeded view of your dazed, saccharine countenance. His hips slow until they match the thumbs stroking escaped tears into your cheeks.

“—m'gonna take you in every room, against every surface. That way, there won’t be a single thing in our home that—fuck—that doesn’t remind you of me and how well I take care of you—you and your tight cunt.”

With little fanfare, he threads his arms under your dewy legs. Mitch uses the newfound leverage to tug your body even closer.

A shriek rips through the firm seam of your lips as his length traverses an unexplored depth. Your knees snuggle against the pit of his elbows, pleased to be so close in spite of the pain.

Mitch holds your gaze, reveling in your silent screams. He winks, then slowly lowers himself down until your body is folded squarely beneath his. Your muscles burn with the fury of budding resentment, which you’ll surely feel towards him in the morning after this unprompted foray into acrobatics, but the new angle is too good to do more than just... take it.

His hands are glad to have been relieved of their duty and, eager to take advantage of their newfound freedom, palm your chest as his mouth descends on your poor neck. The delicate skin is utterly defenseless against the desire thumping deep within his chest and spilling over his ribs.

Mitch wants to stake his claim—to mark his territory. A stammer of expletives accompanies the vulgar jut of your hips when he rolls your sensitive nipples, swollen and begging for attention, between thumb and forefinger. Bracketed by his forearms, you surrender completely.

Mitch hums at the lewd, sucking sound made by your arousal. Wet squelches ricochet off the adjacent wall with each and every thrust.

“I’ve really made a mess out of you, haven’t I?”

You nod, eyes pinched in concentration.

You’re close. He can feel your body trying to milk him dry. Fortunately, Mitch isn’t far behind. You feel too fucking good to prolong the inevitable.

He brings a hand to your clit, and it moves in messsy circles as he speaks, “Not done yet, though. Gonna flood this pretty cunt—gonna leave you all sticky and hot. I know you want it, but I need you to cum for me first. Go on, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

You unravel on command, your chin falling to the side in ecstasy. Mitch’s firm hand is quick to wrench it back; he needs to watch your face contort as you crumble like he needs air to breathe. Mitch won't be able to think straight until he reaps the rewards of fucking and rubbing you through it.

The sob that wrecks your body is high-pitched and perforated by little gasps, and the rush of wetness is more pathetic than any noise you could and would make in your lifetime. More than you ever thought your body was capable of, more than your new fiancé expected, more than either of you anticipated.

He's soaked in a matter of seconds—as are you and the cushion dripping onto the concrete.

Mitch's climax comes in quick succession but, unlike yours, without warning. Undoubtedly, his peak was triggered by the gush of your undeniable satisfaction.

Drained dry, Mitch hunches over to capture your lips once more, determined to distract you from the inevitable bodily ache on the come-down. Delicately, he places your trembling legs onto the chaise and nestles into the space they vacated. He feels every little muscle twitch and spasm when he hugs you tightly to his body.

The world is muted, fuzzy around the edges, and drowned out by the aftershocks, so you miss most of his sweet-nothing rambling, but the relief and contentment that flood your spent body is reply enough.

He isn’t sure how long you stay like that—tangled together in paradise. You doze off, dipping in and out of consciousness, and wake just after the buttery sun slips entirely behind the horizon. Through the darkness surrounding your bare bodies, silvery moonlight replaces the golden rays of sunshine, but you—and your ring—shine as if nothing's changed.

You keep up a quiet conversation. Nothing of importance is spoken; it's carried on purely for the enjoyment of one another’s voice. Mitch peppers your skin, sticky from humidity and exertion, with tender lips, and you return the favor tenfold. You’re both smiling so wide, so happily.

And you keep grinning into the night, even when your cheeks begin to ache. It’s only when the light breeze ghosts over your bare skin that either of you consider relocating. In no rush and reluctant to leave your deep warmth, he’s leisurely about moving into the dim suite.

Mitch freezes abruptly. His stomach splatters at his feet when his mind catches up to his instincts. Murmuring. He hears murmuring. Terror races down his spine like an ice-cold chill. It's quiet at first. Almost as if the evening wind picked up a distant conversation yards away and softly settled it in his paranoid eardrums. He can’t make out any particular words—except his last name.

His mood sours beyond repair with the realization that the juvenile whispering is much too close, the giggles muffled only by the permeable wall of greenery bordering the suite’s ground-floor patio.

“We just wanted to be the first to say congratulations!” A teenage voice devoid of tact and respect calls out above a chorus of snorts and giggles.

Mortified, you bury your head into the crook of his neck. His chain is cold in comparison to your shame.

Mitch growls and reaches beside the chaise. He shouts something that would’ve made even the most shameless of shit-talkers blush, then sends a half-empty bottle of Dom Pérignon clear through the leaves. It shatters, and the crisp bubbles spill out on the concrete, sending the herd of inconsiderate assholes scattering like mice.

“I’ll go pick up the glass,” he sighs, knowing you’ll chastise him for the mess. "—later."

Mitch couldn’t be honest with the journalist.

He wouldn’t even if he could.

He shares so much of himself and his life with the world already—a hazard of the flashy, public-facing occupation he chose—and you’ve offered up far more of your world than he’d ever ask of you. He doesn’t mind a photo here or a video there, sometimes a press junket or two in a philanthropic context, but Mitch won’t bring the media into your private moments beyond where they’ve already encroached.

Especially not for a leading question intended to bait him into saying something stupid. Or to prematurely announce the impending arrival of your first child.

So, instead, he simply says, “Towels. But if the Four Seasons—or my future wife—asks, I’m totally joking, and I definitely put them all back.”

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