#even if I wasn't well staggered already

[cesium-sheep]

a cursory search suggests only a couple songs that made it to the internet have used the "meanest motherfucker in the valley" version of the bible verse and it's entirely the wrong usage for me both times based on the lyrics around it (being some big dick swinger cool guy killer, as opposed to having blood in your teeth and some of it is yours)

they forget the fucking shadow of death. the aspect of prayer, but it's not god you're prayin to anymore. there is something to fear but you're not afraid of it because you're a mean motherfucker and you'll go down swingin. you'll keep staggering on broken and bloody until you get out of that valley or you die.

it's not the same fucking vibe at all.

[grugruel]

The Artist and the Flower

Pairings: Benedict bridgerton x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Sexpollen

Masterlist

Summary: A mysterious flower brought back from Colin's travels put you and Benedict in a curious predicament. Resulting in sex and other things.

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: sexpollen, friends to lovers, passionate sex, pinv sex, oral sex (female recieving), rough sex (blink and you'll miss it), choking, praise, pet names (princess, girl, woman, lady.), "I love you", mating-press, missionary, creampie. (Think that's all)

AN: not yet proofread! Hope you guys enjoy!

Approaching footsteps roused my mind. They thudded dully against wooden floorboards–pausing only to whisper mutely, 'This is not funny. Where are you?'

I tried to focus on my breathing, fingers working sluggishly as they wiped themselves clean against the bottom hem of my dress.

'Woman!' The voice was shrill and urgent this time, ringing terribly in my ear. The sounds of it's accompanying steps diminished as they hurried past my position on the floor, all dizzy on my knees.

'Benedict!' I hissed. The bright interior blurring as I made to stand up, legs wobbly beneath the unsteady weight of my torso.

There was a muffled squeak through the wall, shoes whirling against polished wood. Indicating him turning on his heel. 'Most, esteemed woman?' He tried again, punctuating the words as he half joked, half not. Simply hopeful hollow flattery would spur me into giving further clues to my whereabouts.

'Get in here at once!' I threw my finger toward the floor, as if he could see me do it and I'd sucesfully conveyed the sense of urgency. But the world spun suddenly, and I staggered a few steps until I caught myself on the nearest wall. The window I'd opened wasn't doing much except chilling my damp skin with the occasional draft.

With a last few steps, he darted to the door that separating us and four quaint knocks rapped aginst it. I gritted my teeth, annoyance taking over the hand. 'Yes, come on in.' Still, I willed my voice into the least irritable tone I could muster. This was not his fault, after all.

'Ah–' he sighed and pushed the door open. '–godess. . .' There was a mocking tone to the word and a satisfied grin on his lips, but it quickly fell as his eyes scoured over my appearance and utter devastation replaced it.

I wiped my forehead free of the beading sweat, and it too, began to tingle just like my fingertips had–to my horror, I realised–I'd probably just added more of whatever that dust was into my system. Now seeping through my skin and diluting my blood, impairing my usually keen senses with whatever toxins it provided.

He hurried to my side in big, worried strides to lay and arm around my back, steadying me when I couldn't steady myself. 'Wha-' He couldn't even form a word of surprise, his jaw slack as he gestured with his free hand to my dishevelled appearance. 'Why are you in Colins room? In this, state?' He quickly added. If I wasn't mistaken, which I might very well have been considering I didn't have full use of my mind. But, I could almost detect jealousy in his tone.

He would get the wrong idea, about Colin. 'Well,' I tried being nonchalant, tried to act like the places he made contact with my skin did not burn for him. I screwed my eyes shut and pulled all my focus into an answer. 'The wine got to my head, and I realised,' My words came out sluthered and slow. 'I hadn't been in here before, and. . .' My head began nodding of its own accord, already finding my unsaid words agreeable. '. . .it had to be remedied.'

'Of course, of course it did.' Benedict sighed, his shoulders shrugging in exasperation as he began looking around, presumably to find something for me to sit on, but his eyes fastened on something else instead. I cringed, for his eyes darted from the open rucksack, then back to me. The look he gave me was nothing but disapproving. But goodness, he was stading so close. His breaths warm against my cheek and mildly stained by alcoholic bevrages, much like mine must've been. But oh, the fire in his eyes gave me quite a start, not that I was fearful of it. In fact, I found the opposite to be true. It almost felt as if I had abaorbed it, and it traveled downward. . . 'You went through his belongings?'

My mind froze, the newfound aching in my body too distracting. 'I. . .' I felt my eyes narrow and forehead furrow, my dull reflexes attempting a poor pretence of thoughts. 'I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry. But there was this box, with some strange flower inside. . .' I trailed off. An amused, tipsy smile making it's way onto my face as I noted his incredulous expression.

His hands slid down my arm, and the sensation traveled straight to my core. Causing the need to stifle a moan arise.

'And you thought it a good idea to touch a foreign plant of which you know nothing of?' He spoke fast, too fast for me to keep up. Especially when goosebumps ran rampid in the wake of his touch, when my core ached for him to continue, to push his body further into mine. My heart beat too fast, his hand too close to the pulse point on my wrist.

My hand found it's way beneath his jaw, a wide grin splaying across my face. 'Wine will do that to a gentlewoman.' I explained, sluthering slightly. But feeling no more explanation to be necessary.

He screwed his eyes shut and stood completley still for a moment, I could almost see the thoughts swirling in the crammed space of his mind. 'Well,' he looked at me once again, searching my eyes. 'What gentleman would I be to leave a woman in need to her own devices?' He opened the box and grabbed the flower without hesitation, feeling its vevelty petals, rubbing the dust between his fingertips and then- tasted it.

Currents of static electricity zapped beneath my chest, spreading throughout me body. Everything happened so fast. And all I could do was watch, very intently, as the pads of his middle- and index finger made contact with his tongue, swiping clean against it. Lips then closing around them to suck whatever remained off. The heat building in my body was nothing short of sinful, and the thoughts–my thoughts–were even worse.

'Let's go.'

'Pardon?' Precious air left my lungs, leaving me breathless.

'Dinner with the Bridgertons.'

'I figured it to be out of the question.' My expression confounded.

'Colin is already downstairs, and we must find out what exactly that plant is-' He stopped. Eyes all of a sudden distant as they grazed over my features, landing on my lips. He still held my wrist, stroking the inside with gentle circles.

'Ben?' It was summer in the country, this much I knew. But surely, the temperature could not rise as fast as it just did. Sweat was pooling at my back, beneath my bust. And I began to wish, that he would simply. . . Lick-

'We must go.' I declared, clearing my throat. Hoping the words would snap us out of our trance.

'Right, of course.' He nodded, a blush sweeping across his cheeks. His eyes suddenly keen to examine the floor. But he kept his han his hand on the small of my back, urging me down the halls of the big house. Ocassionally, he'd scrunch the fabric of my dress, feeling the flexing of my back beneath the tips of his fingers. It pulled my attention to the sensitivity of my skin, and the pleasure his small, simple action gave me.

The next thing I knew, I was being helped into a chair at the center of the dining table. Benedict laid a hand on my shoulder that was meant to be reassuring, but it had an impact much more wicked on me. He took the seat across from me, and oh so conveniently placed himself next to Colin. Conversation grew heavy as Violet became quite inquisitive with her children. Eloise's debut, Anthony's proposal plans, and who he was planning on the recieving end. I would usually have been elbow deep in the gossip and drama, but my mind was elsewhere, muddled or perhaps tainted, as I couldn't focus on much of anything. Their voices grew sharp in my ears, the candlelight too bright for my eyes.

Ben leaned in to whisper in Colin's ear, who's eyes grew wide. Looking at me with growing worry, in fact, he almost looked like he would be sick.

I could understand why. Slouched in my seat, looking generally ill and doing more drinking than eating. Which was most likely only adding to the growing problem rather than subduing it. But oh, was he handsome. Flushed, he combed a hand through his hair. Slicking it with the dampness from his forehead, his eyes darting over my figure every now and then. Whatever that flower was, it seemed to be getting to him too. Colin opened his mouth to answer Ben.

'How are you dear, you look a little I'll.' Violet asked with genuine worry, interrupting the boys hushed conversation and turned them onto me with anxious eyes.

'I'm well.' I smiled, feeling as though my own voice was not mine.

Ben's eyes creased, a grin spreading over his lips, and then began giggling.

The conversations cut, and everyone stared at him. 'Are you quite alright, dear?' Violets eyes were full of concern, now placed upon him instead. I didn't yet know if it was warranted or not. But I was glad he pulled any lingering eyes from my current state.

'I apologise.' The words were strained as he pushed them out between more fluttering giggles, leading him to cover his blushing face. 'Her lady just told me something stunningly funny, that is all.' Benedict gestured to me, his eyes glinting with mischief. That little-

'Truly?' Violet smiled expectantly, something like understanding in her eyes. That cunning look she always gave her children when she knew something they didn't. Perhaps she'd taken my demeanour as that of a girl with a hidden crush, only anxious under the gaze of her love. She wouldn't be entirely wrong. Long had I known the Bridgertons, and even longer had I liked Ben.

I cleared my throat, blinking away the haze in my eyes. 'I'm uncertain of its propriety. . .' I tried to redirect, a drop of sweat sliding down my temple as I nervously glanced around at the members of the family. And ufortunately, I felt a bubbling up inside my chest, a composition of my own laughter. 'It was, uhm. . .' I paused, working hard to keep a smile from creeping onto my lips. Trying desperate to think of something to say. Anything, really.

'Well, let's hear it.' Anthony said with a grin, and the rest of the table agreed. Eloise being little more than a heap of snickers, Colin seeming to be the only one who gained little to no amusement from the situation.

Watching my struggles and deeming them incredibly funny, Benedicts giggles evovled and he burst out laughing. I was second behind him, but the table quickly joined in with a chorus of incredulous chuckles and wild looks of incomprehension. 'What is the matter with you two?' Eloise asked, her eyes watery as she clutched stomache.

We locked eyes, Ben and I. Both now scorching, judging from the trickling sweat on his neck and the tickling down my back. Warmth spread throughout my chest, and something fluttered in my stumache. Something was terribly wrong with the flower for me to feel so deeply, so suddenly.

Colin took his chance when Benedict had calmed himself, leaning in to whisper in his ear. Ben's face offered an array of reactions ti every word spoken. Confusion, surprise, anger. It was enough for me to conclude that something was not right, and that was when his eyes went wide. 'Then why would you not keep a lock on it, brother?' He shouted, his voice much louder than anticipated. Worry grew in me as I carefully studied their expressions, replacing all my previous feelings of joy. Colin whispered again, his lips moving eratically as he shook his head, clearly distressed and displeased. Ben's eyes locked on mine a second time, again, they were full of fire. However, something told me it was not of the same sort I'd seen earlier today, this was not anger. No, it was something else entierly. 'Pardon us, drar family. But the lady and I must be excused.' He claimed suddenly, turning to his mother and Anthony. 'We have urgent business that need tending to.'

'–my parents estate. . .' I cut in, sensing the graveness behind his words. It cant be good if his mood had changed so quickly. The family gave me an odd look, and I scrambled further, not wishing for them to get the wrong impression. 'The art- the art in their estate. We had a Lively discussion before dinner. . . Hence the art. Because he's an artist.' I paused my rambling lips, they did me more bad than good. I stood hastily, the rich pulsing around me as I did so, almost knocking the chair to the floor. I smoothed my dress out and exited the diningroom with an "excuse me" and a unecessary curtsy.

Rushing down hallways, I brushed my hand along the wall for support. Benedict's footsteps only a pace behind my own. He placed a hand on my hip, to brace me or simply because he wanted to fell me, I did not know.

Stopping outside my rooms, I urged him to explain. 'Apparently,' he began, rubbing the nape of his neck. I knew that tell. 'It's not, good news. . .'

I leaned back against the doorframe, my body drenched in sweat. The wafting of my fan doing nothing to help. 'Benedict Bridgerton, tell me immediately.' I growled.

'Its an aphrodesiac. It means-'

I expelled a strained breath. 'I know what it means, Ben. Continue.' The air blew against the exposed skin of of my chest, cooking it effectively.

Benedict hesitated, none of this was proper. Yet, his eyes lingered on the growing goosebumps over my breasts. His gaze sliding to my throat, watching it bob as I swallowed a big breath of air. 'We are friends Ben, discussing such things educationally does not betray social rules.' I tried to convince us both.

He nodded absentmindedly, his eyes snapping back to mine with a newfound reverence. He himself staggering as his balance perception had been knocked down a peg. It was really starting to get to him, so I grabbed his jacket to steady him. 'Its pollen is poisonous in large amounts, If consumed and left untreated, lethal.'

I swallowed again, the world spinning as my mind fumbled his words, turning them over and over in my head. 'Considering the side-effects,' I gestured with the fan between the two of us. 'I gather we have large amounts in our blood.'

To this he nodded, the uncertainty in his eyes replaced with a wicked smile spreading across his lips. 'Clever girl.'

His praise felt like a punch to the gut. Although not knocing the air out of me, it did leave me in pain. 'And how do we cure it?' I tried to distract myself, my breathing was growing uneven, my thoughts a haze. And Benedict Bridgerton, looking more and more like something I'd like to devour.

His hand braced against the doorframe above my head ti stabilise him, his tall frame nkw looming over me, our faces stopping only a few inches appart. 'By working it out of our systems, by executing certain activities,' he murmured, studying me under hodded eyes and parted lips. 'The burning needs to be sated. If not, it will develop into fever, the throat will close and-'

'Alright, that's quite enough.' I gestured for him to stop. My lip trembling, my body burning as I looked at him through my lashes. 'What exactly are these activities?' I had a feeling, a hunch, where this was going.

'You must forgive my crudeness.' He took my hands in his free one, managing to wrap his considerably larger one around both of mine. 'By love making.' He was even closer now, his nose touching my cheekbone as he whispered in my ear. 'Sex.' His breaths were ragged, on edge. His tongue darting out to wet his lips. He stopped himself, closing his eyes. His forehead lulling against mine. Most likely taming himself jusy like I had to, trying not to think of the multiple worst case scenarios.

'We cannot stay out here, somebody will see us.' I warned, my nose rubbing against his. My body so taunt, tense, it needed desperate release. My spine was still recovering from that word. It had shaped a ball of anticipation in the pit of my stumache. It could ruin me, my prospects. I only just debuted. But- sex. . . That was all I wanted in this moment, and I wanted it with this man.

I looked him in the eyes and opened the door to my bedchamber. 'I love a tragedy, an epic story of true love ending in death.' I whispered, moving my hands around his. 'But we are not lovers.' Taking a few steps back, I led him inside. 'So, lets make this count.' He followed me willingly, his eyes loyal and round like a puppy's as he gazed at me with adoration. And the door fell shut behind him.

'What if we were?' His voice was low and burdened with lust. One hand coming to stroke a few strands of hair from my cheek.

I blinked, barely comprehending his touch. 'We shall not perish, Benedict. I refuse.'

'No, but we could love.'

'What?' My brows furrowed.

'Perhaps, you could find it in your heart to love me, as I have always loved you.' He paused. The next words were heavy as they hung from the tip of his tounge. 'Let me make love to you.' His voice vibrating from the strain of on his chest. He took a step closer, his chest pressing flush against mine. 'Let me teach you.' His voice was pleading, and I had to crane my neck to keep his eye contact. 'Marry me. . .' His hands cupped my face. '. . .marry me.' he leaned in, whispering the words against my lips.

I nodded slowly. 'Teach me.' And our lips clashed together.

Years worth of structural limitations evaporated, society and politics a thing of the past as Benedict raised my skirt, found purchase under my thighs and pulled me into his embrace. His skilled tongue finding its way into my mouth with ease.

He walked us backward, gently laying me down on my bed despite the urgency of our lust. 'What do you need?' He asked through muffled moans, his lips busy with mine. I could not think, nothing about my being would work with me. 'Talk to me, what do you need?' He breathed, voice almost a whimper as his hands squeezed my hips, urging me to answer.

'You,' I managed. 'I need you.' I could feel him smile against my lips.

'Do you trust me, love?'

'Always.'

He pushed off me, hooked his hands under my knees and pulled me to the edge of the bed.

Then kneeled.

Benedict, the man that he is, stood on his knees before me. Between my legs, he smiled a wicked smile. My body was limp in his touch, completely at his disposal. The aching cravings of my core did not care what he did, as long as it was he who did it.

His hands dove under the hem of my skirt, tracing my legs upward, hitching the fabric on his wrists. He stopped above my knees, kneeding them thoughtfully as his eyes searched mine. It took my mind a second to wrap around his request, it was already so painfully clear to me that I would agree at any given moment of our time together that I could not fathom him wanting further confirmation. 'Yes. . . Please.'

He wasted no time. He was hungry. He flipped the skirt over my abdomen and got to work. Immidietly lowering himself onto my mound, lipping a stripe from my core to my clit and he moaned.

A shuddering whimper left me, if it was from his reaction or the sensation of his tongue I would never know. Proudly, he wrapped his lips around me clit and vegan sucking, licking and nipping. It was unlike anything I'd ever felt before, my fingers could never compete with his expertise. My body wriggled involuntairly, compelling him to hold my hips down with one hand, and taking it as a sign to slide the other along the inside of my thigh and burry a finger inside me, pumling it in an out.

I cried out, covering my mouth as my free hand dove into his hair. Pulling and scratching, I urged him to continue. But somewhere inside me, worry built. What about him? My eyes glanced over the still beading sweat on his forehead, afraid it might be the fever Ben had spoken of. 'What about you?' I whimpered, stroking his hair in a gentler fashion as he continued his contrasting assault on my mound.

'What about me?' He moaned, voice muffled by my skin and shrugged, sliding another finger inside me. His eyes studying my reaction, the way my body moved. I cried out again, biting my lip this time to stifle it as my other hand entwined with the one he held at my hip.

'Is it enough for you?' The words were expelled on an exhale, my voice pitched from continously pleasure, but beneath there was worry. And he noticed.

He chuckled breathely against my clit. 'I do not care about me.' His eyes met mine, and a strike of lighting shot through me, a whimper escaping me with furrowed brows. And he continued with a groan. 'Giving you pleasure is all I need.' And added a third finger, curling them inside me. Their size was admirable, especially as they hit some special spot inside me.

My back arched and a tidal wave of pleasure rolled over me, the pressure that'd been builing in my stumache finally released.

He watched me intently. 'Let me hear you.' He requested, continuing to move his fingers as he helped me through my orgasm, palming himself through his pants with his free hand. I obliged him. A string of curses unbefitting of a lady left my lips in whimpers.

'It takes talent to make such vulgar words sound pretty.' He licked another stripe along my folds, gathering my orgasm on his tongue and swallowed greedily. A strained grunt left him, and he collapsed into my lap, a shiver running through his body. My hand left his to brace myself on my forearm, gathering a better view of him as I combed my hand through his hair soothingly, and that's when I noticed the wet spot on his pants. I gasped. 'It was truly enough for you?' I ovserved him in awe, the aching beginning to roar inside me yet again.

'I told you,' He panted, sucking his fingers clean between his attempts to catch his breath and tilted his head to look up at me. Such a sinful act embedded so innocently. 'You are enough for me, pretty girl.' Now it was not only mor core which ached, but my heart also. Still on his knees, he let himself regenerate in my lap whilst his adoring eyes romaed my face. A show of devotion, of resignation, of love.

I moved to sit, his head still in my lap as he circled his arms around my waist, gaze still locked on mine. 'I love you.' I whispered, brushing the damp hair from his forehead.

His eyes softened impossibly more. 'I've always, always been in love with you. Since the first week of our meeting.'

My chest ached. 'Why have you never told me so?'

'Throwing our friendship away based on chance was not odds I was willing to risk.' He hugged me tighter, then stood up. 'But im afraid, that were not out of the woods yet.' He said, un buttoning his shirt and pants. 'Im feeling quite feverish.' His eyes glistened with mischief, and let the coat fall from his shoulders.

'If you want me again, you need only say so.' I smiled, now it was my time to look up at him with loving eyes.

'I want you again.' He removed his shirt, and I hade to collect my breath for a second. 'Stand, my love. We will do this properly.' He took my hands and helped me to my feet, turned me around and undid my dress and corset. Again, It made me realise just how much experience he had.

When I stood in only my chemise, feeling naked and vunerable. He stood in only his breeches. Nothing my nervous state, he said. 'We can leave it on, love.' Searching my eyes.

But I shook my head, if I was to have all of him, he was to have all of me. 'Please.' I whispered, motioning for him to take it off me. And he did, it slid down my body easily. Gradually exposing every inch of skin only me and most likely my maids had seen.

He stood struck for a moment, unmoving, unspeaking. Until- 'I do not deserve you.' He awed, 'Beautiful, beautiful woman.' Reaching his hand out to stroke my biceps, my abdomen, eyes searching mine before they traveled further up.

'You do, if any man ever was to. It would be you.' I promised him, and at this he blushed. I grabbed his hand and laid it atop my breast. With a groan, he stepped closer. His free hand cupping my face as the other massaged my breast, and his lips met mine. Softly, his hand slid around my back, guiding me back knto the bed, laying me carefully down on the pillows. 'Princess.' He breathed, sat back and removed his breeches. I did not have time to fawn over his size until he was on me again. Hooking my leg on his knee, he spread it wide. Bracing on a forearm, his face was inches from mine as he lowers himself on top of me. His thick length grazing my clit. Sensitive and burning, still–I noticed. The polled had yet to leave our system, perhaps it deadliness had subdued, but it's symptoms were yet in full effect.

Benedict nuzzled my cheek. 'Tell me what you want.' He whispered in my ear.

'You, all of you.'

'Be more specific, dearest.'

I swallowed, my breathing growing heavier. 'Sex.' I murmured, and his lips formed a smiled against my jaw. 'I want sex.'

'I would want nothing more than to give it to you.' He breathed, and lined himself up with my entrance. Then pushed himself in, gently, but consistently. My whimpered only spurring him on, not stopping until he reached the hilt. He'd done his job well, since I easily adjusted around him. 'Good girl.' He whispered, tracing kisses from my lips to my neck. 'Taking me so well.'

I ached, arching my back, I needed more. My skin was growing more and more sensitive. 'Please, Ben. . .'

That was all he needed to hear. He pulled out and thrusted into me again, moving my entire body with each stroke and it was like nothing I've ever felt before. 'Holy-' I interrupted myself with a moan.

He chuckled, but truthfully it was more of a moan. 'Feel so good.' He murmured against my skin, kissing the tender spot between my shoulder and throat. 'Like I imagined.'

Pause. He's thought of me? In this way? With. . . women, by himself?

'When, tell me when.'

'Always. I thinn of you when I lay with other women, I think of you when I touch myself.' His hand ran down my body, squeezing my breast as he drove himself deeper. And I had to wonder–were those acts specific details of his dreams, desires? 'You occupy my mind, always.' He said quite breathlessly.

'Show me, show me how you want me.'

He pulled out if me, hooked my legs over his shoulders and thrusted back in. Every rut of his hips hitting that sweet spot inside me, wrecking me over and over again. Strained breaths against my throat became the outcome of his efforts, as the power behind each thrust pushed me deeper into the mattress. 'What else, show me what else. I'm yours.' I moaned.

His lips found mine, and his hand my throat. Gently, he enveloped it. Softly, he squeezed. 'Say it again.' His lips murmured against mine, kissing them between every breath he labored.

'I'm yours.' I whispered, and he groaned. A particularly forcefull thrust was made into me. He was never rough in anything he did, but he put his back into it. Always the gentleman, never the brute. I've never been happier for a man to be so contrasting.

The burning, the aching, the pressure. It was all towering, waiting to be pushed over at any second. 'Mine,' he moaned. 'My love.' His pace quickened and ruts hardened. He was as close as I was. 'I love you. . .' He whimpered and spilled himself inside of me. And I came a second later, irregular thrusts carrying me through my blinding orgasm. 'I love you.' He told me over and over again as he let my legs fall to his sides, and collapsed onto my smaller figure. With his head on my chest, I held him. 'I love you too.'

'Marry me, then.'

'Give me a ring, then.' I giggled. He made to stand up, to slither out of my embrace. 'Not now!'

'Tomorrow, then?' He laid back down, this time wrapping his arms around me and pulled me close.

'Tomorrow, then.' I confirmed. Id never been so happy as in that moment.

[kitscutie]

omg if you’re still wanting requests for coryo, maybe sm like he’s mentoring reader instead of lucy gray (she is safe and sound in 12 dw!) and they get reunited after r wins the games? maybe by some kind of fluke? i’ll leave it up to you bc i love everything you write babes <3

money, power, glory (coriolanus snow x fem!reader)

pairing: coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: none!

summary: coriolanus snow is your mentor, unlike the others he has a drive for your survival - it quickly becomes clear your bond goes above mentor and tribute.

a/n: this is not part of the snow and roses series but part two is coming very soon -hope you enjoy! also thank you so much to this anon - you're a cutie!

word count: 3.6k

join my taglist here!

The train ride to the Capitol was dark and lonely. It felt as though everybody had already found friends or were close to their fellow District tribute, yours wanted nothing to do with you.

Seeing as you were from twelve you were thin and weak, you knew that, you could feel it in the way your stomach rumbled on a loop every day or the way your head spun when you stood up but you never thought one of your own would turn their back on you.

You didn't think you stood a chance, simply another pawn in the Capitols game but still you had hope.

When the train stopped it jolted, tipping you over had you been stood up like Thornton your fellow Twelve tribute. He wasn't muscly but more so burly, it was clear his family was among the wealthier back home but compared to the Capitol it was nothing.

You stood up from your small corner, cowering away from the sunlight which blinded you upon the doors opening. You heard yells, presumably from your fellow tributes or even the 'peace keepers' as they tried to calm the crowds.

Below you, you saw a flash of red which stood out from the white uniforms and wall to floor grey cement.

Upon closer inspection snow white hair lay atop his head, prominent and proud.

Thornton jumped out of the box on his own accord, not prompted by the guards, nor the boy below you, simply motivated to get into the Hunger Games.

Your head slowly peered out from the box and that's when his eyes met yours, strikingly blue they seemed out of place in such a colourless setting.

"Welcome to the Capitol." He stuttered out, holding a rose which matched his hair out to you, it was beautiful, nothing you had ever seen back home.

"Thank you. Could you-." You began to ask for his help out of the train which staggered above the ground just below half of your height, though he realised quickly, holding your waist as he gently placed you on the ground in front of him.

Finally out of your cage you took the rose from his calloused fingers, admiring it in all it's beauty. It reminded you of him, soft and subtle yet powerful as it stood tall on it's stalk.

"This is beautiful." You said, it came out in something similar to a whisper, your body still adjusting to the new setting. "You look different," You said as you glanced around at the tributes in dirty hand me downs and the guards in plaster white uniforms. "Who are you?" You asked.

"I'm your mentor." He smiled charmingly, it seemed second nature to him.

"Where are the other mentors?" You once again asked, unsure if this was new or simply something you had missed as you sat watching the games between your fingers.

"Well, I'm not supposed to be here but, I'm sure greeting you falls in my line of duty." He said. "Taking care of you." He added which sent butterflies wild in your stomach. He was doing his job you reminded yourself but nobody back home was quite this attractive nor this attentive. You had never been taken care of. Always independent to survive.

You said nothing more, taking in all of his glorious features until a peacekeeper grabbed you arm, taking you with the rest of the tributes into an armoured van. You were once again alone.

You watched in surprise as just moments later your mentor jumped in behind you, standing against the back wall as if to not be seen in a packed and confined space.

"Hi." He said, realising he stood out like a sore thumb. It almost made you chuckle - his blatant fear but then you realised you should be much more scared.

"What's the matter pretty boy, you in the wrong cage?" Said Reaper. He was a tribute you admired, he was brave and strong and seemingly had a deep care for his friend Dill.

"No. This cage is delightful." He smiled. You were impressed by his natural appeal, well to you at least. Every word which came out of his pale lips had you hanging on by a thread.

With that Reaper had had enough, slamming him against the wall with power. "I'll kill you." He said convincingly.

"He'll do it too. He killed a Peacekeeper back in Eleven." Dill spoke as she stared into nothingness.

"I say we all kill him." Added Bobbin as he now stood up too, the other Tributes speaking out in agreement. You began to panic, he was your only source of companionship, of opportunity to leave the Capitol in one piece and here he was about to be ripped to shreds before the Games even begun.

"He's my mentor, could you please not kill him?" You asked pathetically as you attempted to stand between him and Reaper. A feeble attempt though an attempt none the less.

"How come you get a mender?" Said Coral, dirty gaze set now upon you.

"Mentor." He corrected her. "You each get one." He finished, hoping this would calm them in their attempt to kill him.

"And we'll all just believe you, huh? Why does Twelve here get special treatment." Coral replied, now out of her seat and very much in your face as she squished your cheeks between her grimy fingers.

"I'm not special, just lucky I suppose." You shrugged feeling heavily intimidated and under scrutiny by all of their hungry gazes. Eager to pull blood from you in this very moment.

The room went silent and at first you didn't realise why, until you felt your cage begin to shake, slowly tilting towards the ground. Your mentor's hands once again wrapped around your waist though this time from behind you and your own reached down to hold onto his wrists, having no stability.

You all screamed as you fell down onto hard wood chips and damp mud. Eyes were once again blinded by the harsh sunlight as you adjusted to wherever you now were.

A mans voice echoed around your new cage - how kind of them to give you multiple in such little time - seemingly introducing himself to the crowd around you before he spotted the red uniform.

"Excuse me, yes you sir, in the red! Who are you and why are you in there with them, we are live!" He asked, hair gelled to perfection to one side.

You grabbed your mentors hand as he stood frozen in his spot clearly unsure what to do, you however saw an opportunity, an opportunity to stand out.

"May I introduce you to my neighbours?" He asked sarcastically as though he really hated the people filming you like you wanted to be here.

With that the pair of you walked over, but not before he took the rose from your free hand and tucked it behind your ear. It burned under the warmth of his skin, not having had any form of physical touch for as long as you can remember.

"Hi. How do you do, my name is Coriolanus Snow, and this here is my tribute Y/N L/N from District Twelve." He said partly for the cameras partly introducing himself to you and you to him. He already knew your name. He had watched the reaping's, seen you cry in weakness.

"Hello." You mumbled partly shuffling to hide behind his body. Not used to such attention.

He focused his attention on you, firing questions at you over and over again until you had had enough. "More on my mentor, seemed he's the only one who bothered to show up." You said and the boy that you now knew to be Coriolanus rubbed his thumb back and forth over your hand as he sensed your discomfort being Infront of so many prying eyes.

"Well I would love to ask him some questions but it seems as though he's about to be whisked away." Lucky said and as soon as the words came out Peacekeepers appeared behind the pair of you grabbing him by the biceps and beginning to drag him away.

"Hey." You held onto him for one second longer. "Thank you for everything Coriolanus Snow. But uh, could you please bring me some food? I can feel my bones turning into dust as we speak." You said. He slightly chuckled at this but no less nodded.

With that, you were once again alone.

"Y/N!" You heard your name from behind the rock you sat against, instantly recognizing the voice to be Coriolanus Snow.

"That for me?" You asked as he pulled out a few pieces of food wrapped in tissue in front of you. He handed it to you through gaps in the fence, wordlessly answering your question. "Thank you." You said as you eagerly stuffed your face, this being the first meal you had eaten in days, no weeks.

"They not feed you back in Twelve?" He asked, concerned.

"No. We don't exactly get that luxury." His question surprised you, you assumed it was common knowledge that food was few and far between in the outer Districts yet here he was, surprised. "Seems your friend already knows that." You added as you watched a girl in a matching uniform to his teasing Brandy.

"She is not my friend she is poison with perfect teeth." He answered and yet again it sounded so perfect. He knew just what to say to please you, comfort your mind as you wondered at what point he would turn on you. "Listen, you can't share this with anyone. This is my only chance to help you and they-" He said discreetly pointing to the tributes scattered around you, "Are only going to use you."

"Not like I've got anyone to share with. Don't think I'm very popular." You said, defeated. You supposed that out of anyone, you didn't want to befriend the people who would shortly be wishing death upon you but instead the man before you who would hold your hand until the moment you walked through that door.

"Maybe not with them but out here you have a chance. I've made some suggestions, I might be able to get the audience to send you gifts. Food and water. You just need to play into their game, win them over." He said, face against the fence as he wished to keep this information between the two of you. An advantage.

"I don't want to play their game, the same game that got me here in the first place? I don't think charming anyone is my forte anyway." You once again deprived yourself of any credit, picking at the skin around your nails.

"You're more charming than you think Y/N. I'd bet on it." He said, gaze digging deep into your soul. No one had ever complimented you before never mind in such a blatant way. You knelt down, tired of standing and he went with you continuing your conversation.

"Dill reminds me of my sister, before she passed. So sick and weak, I hate to think of her in a place like this." You shared, feeling vulnerable to him in such a short time.

"I'm sorry." He said genuinely.

"You seem like a good man Coriolanus. Would've been nice to meet you outside of this cage." You said, tapping on the metal bars before letting it settle there.

"Mhm." He agreed, tilting his head sympathetically and after moment of what must have been deliberation he wrapped his own hand around yours. It warmed your skin, chilled by the cold iron beneath your palm.

Your sweet moment was cut off by Arachne's scream as Brandy had enough of her teasing, smashing the bottle and using it to slice her neck.

You stared in horror, this was what you were up against in that arena, you stood no chance.

Coriolanus leaped into action, comforting the bleeding girl while Peacekeepers shot Brandy down. In all of your years alive you had never witnessed such violence and it left you shaking, even more so as the bullets narrowly missed Coriolanus' head.

The Peacekeepers grabbed his arm, once again pulling him away from you, your heart beating in his direction.

The next day you were all placed in a large circular room. You and your fellow tributes shackled to a table while the mentors sat proudly, postures straight before you.

You were allowed to discuss game plans for the main event but also for a televised special where the Capitol could get to know you. Nut it wouldn't really be you, just a shell of your former self.

"I'm sorry about your friend." You sympathised, he was clearly upset, scared you weren't sure but his energy was different to his hopeful exterior from yesterday.

"Thank you. Are you doing okay?" He deflected, though his care seemed and was genuine. He cared about you more than the way a mentor cares for the tribute. Your connection went deeper.

"I'm scared Coriolanus. You saw what those tributes can do yesterday. I'm nothing compared to them! I've never even killed a spider." You cried out in desperation, hands shaking where they were tied to the table.

"I'm scared for you, Y/N. I don't want to lose you in there, so I guess that makes two of us." He replied, soothing you. "But no matter how scared you are you have to perform for them in the interviews later. Pretend to be someone else or be yourself it doesn't matter but this is the last chance to make them like you. Didn't take much for you to win me over." He added.

"I- I just can't Coriolanus. I'm no performer. I'm no different to them just weaker and a character in their entertainment." You answered, slowly admitting defeat.

"You have to be brave, Y/N. For me, okay?" He begged, once again placing his hand over your own.

"I'll try." You decided. You either died of embarrassment or an axe to the face and you knew which you proffered.

"Snow. Let's go!" Shouted Casca, the creator of the games. A man you loathed.

"You'll be okay." He said before he left his chair leaving you to sit in the large room as the other debated their strategies.

Later on once you were allowed to view the arena he returned. Instantly walking in stride beside you as if he never left.

The arena was void of light except the red beams which pointed out the entrance. It was eerie and honestly a fabrication of your worst nightmares.

This time in your fear you felt no hesitation to grab onto his hand, and he grabbed your back, linking you fingers with a squeeze which said to you 'it's okay' without saying anything at all.

Seeing the cameras you released it, not wanting unnecessary attention upon yourselves.

The gates closed behind you with a loud clang, leaving you in the darkness and you stumbled back into his chest, the only thing keeping you from a breakdown being the steady beat of his heart beneath his chest.

Shutters on each wall began to rise letting in the natural sunlight outside but yet you were still very much in another cage.

While the other tributes decided their alliances you stuck by Coriolanus' side and he had no objections. "Coriolanus you can't met me die in here. I've got so much left to do." You begged, clutching the opening of his red suit.

"I wont let you die, Y/N. Even if it's the last thing I do." He replied, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. His words were laced with truth, knowing his plans to bend the rules in order to keep you alive.

The moment was short lived as the centre of the arena exploded, rubble and smoke flying everywhere including into your forehead as you felt blood trickle into your eye.

Both you and Coriolanus ran, though he was seconds too slow as a pillar fell onto his leg trapping him against the floor. While the other tributes ran having little regard for their mentors you ran back, pulling it off of him with every last ounce of power in your body.

Your heart ached hearing his cried but also with the pain that this was most likely the last time you would see him before the games as the Peacekeepers found you and dragged you back to the 'zoo' before you could attempt escape like the others.

"Y/N." You heard your name whispered into the darkness of the night. You hadn't slept, not since the thought of Coriolanus being dead crossed your mind and so it hadn't taken much to catch your attention.

"You're alive, thank god." You cried. Seeing his face untouched calmed your racing heart.

"The bombs, they changed everything. I've been in there, you can hide, the floors gone. You can hide until it's safe. Run when it starts and don't come out until it's safe, please Y/N. Don't go for the weapons." He begged to you. You had planned to hide in the first place but his desperation for your survival warmed your heart.

"Thank you Coriolanus snow. For taking care of me. Just like you promised." You said to him, tears beginning to fall from your eyes, the same tears you hadn't let fall since the train arrived in the Capitol.

"Just like I promised." He smiled. "You saved my life in there Y/N." He added.

"I'm sorry." You said as you couldn't hold back your desperate tears anymore. You were sorry you wouldn't succeed for him, sorry this was the last time you would see him, sorry that your heart ached for him.

"It's okay, It's okay." He soothed you. Wiping your tears with his embroidered handkerchief. "I'm gonna get you out of there. I promised after all, right?" He repeated his earlier declaration of promise, it meant everything to you and yet nothing. At the end of the day your survival came down to you and you didn't know if you could handle blood on your hands.

"Is this all real? Between you and me, do you really-" You began to ask, though he cut you off.

"I care about you, Y/N. Really. No amount of money could make me do this for you, risk it all. The things you wanted to do, wanted to live for? I want to do them with you. I want to give you the life you deserve." He said and that was all the confirmation you needed, the feelings you were having were real. Not part of the game, not faked for the cameras.

He was here in the middle of the night to help you.

"We are gonna win this, Y/N. We are gonna win this together."

It had now been fifty four days and counting since you had last seen him. The games had come and gone, what you thought was luck leaving you a victor.

Days had been boring since Coriolanus Snow left your life. You returned to what you had left behind in District Twelve, friends, no family and a wooden shack you called a home.

Your heart longed to see him, more than anything in this world you wished to feel his hand in yours one more time. Hear his reassuring words one more time though now you needed them to comfort your nightmares.

Today was the same as every day had been. Get up, bathe in a bucket, eat vegetables you found in the forest and then read the same books you had for the past eighteen years. It was all you had but now more than ever it felt good to be stuck in that cycle instead of stuck in a cage of people who called for your death.

A knock at your door at mid-day startled you. It was unusual to get visitors in District Twelve - everybody keeping to themselves and yet something dragged you to answer.

Opening the door you saw a figment of your dreams. White hair, blue eyes and pale skin, yet they were too real and close to be something your brain created.

"Y/N L/N, you are a sight for sore eyes." He said, his voice like butter in your ears.

"Coriolanus?" You asked before he tackled you into a hug, hands gripping you like you would slip through his fingers at any moment in time. "How- what." You began to ask.

"I was sent to Eight to be a Peacekeeper but I used my last cents to get sent here instead, then I just asked around to find you. Find my girl." He said as he held your face between his hands, checking you over for injuries. The last time he was you you were injured and cowering in the arena, begging to be set free.

"You found me." You whispered, diving in to kiss him. He responded immediately, wasting no time in curling his lips into yours. You fought for dominance but ultimately you let him take over, needing to let go for once.

"I missed you so much." You whimpered in both pleasure and pain as he kissed and nibbled on your neck. Dream becoming reality. "I begged with every last but of luck within me that I'd see you again." You confessed, bringing his face up to kiss you once more.

"And here I am." He smiled, staring into your eyes, breathing the same air as you.

"I thought my life ended that day, in that arena. Losing myself, then losing you." You admitted, eyes similar to the last time you saw him, glassy.

"Y/N, Y/N." He chuckled, "Our life has only just begun."

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[sunrizef1]

What happens in Vegas pt 1.5

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Authors Note: had to write this twice because tumblr deleted it lol. Not sure how to tag this so I’m just tagging my general tags. Proofread but not well.

Warnings: Blood, cursing

Summary: When the drivers found Max cheating

Masterlist

—————————————————

“Dannyyyyyy” your voice rings out through the noise of the crowded club, your words catching the attention of the Australian in question.

The Aussie turns his head, a grin on his face as he holds up a bottle of champagne he seemed to have convinced the bartender to hand over. You laugh at his state, drunkenness clear in the way he sways as he staggers over to you. You wrap an arm around his tall shoulder, leaning on him in order to sort out your own less-than-sober state.

Lights flash brightly around the two of you, fellow drivers and F1 employees spread throughout the club, not including anyone from Red Bull for some reason.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to care, vodka practically running through your veins as you celebrated your win. You had won your home race and you were surrounded by your friends. The absence of some people you didn’t really like didn’t bother you all too much.

“Have you seen Logan?” You look up toward the Aussie again, eyes darting quickly around the club for your friend. You had been with the blond practically the whole night but as soon as you had gone looking for Danny, he had disappeared from your side.

Luckily, you didn’t have to search for long as another arm comes and wraps around your shoulder suddenly. You turn your head to find Logan, a dopey smile on his face and, weirdly, sunglasses.

He had been drinking just as much as the rest of you had, even downing about half a bottle of vodka in under twenty minutes. Better than you would’ve done considering you thought vodka tasted like shit. Good for shots though.

You reach up and fix the glasses that had gone sideways on his face. His hand follows yours, still clutching a drink as he follows your lead in fixing the random glasses.

“Why’d you have glasses on?” You have to yell slightly as you say it, prompting Danny to glance over from where he’d been watching Lando convince the current DJ to let him have a go. You’d have to give it to him, the man’s pretty convincing when he’s drunk.

“Someone gave them to me, not sure when, don’t really care. They’re sick though, right?” Logan leans back slightly to give you both a full look at him and you laugh as he sways a bit. His blond hair is ruffled and he’s acquired someone’s paddock pass throughout the night, along with the glasses and he’s looking like he came straight from the race itself.

“Yeah! You look great, mate!” Danny’s laughing behind you and Logan grins while he leans back into the little huddle you’ve created, patting Danny on the back as he does.

“Where are we heading then, gang?” Logan slurs, downing the rest of his drink and slamming it down on a nearby table and then turning his entire form toward the two of you.

You walk forward a bit, dragging the two drivers with you, both of their arms falling off your shoulders, “I was gonna go back to my room but I can't find max.”

You had already been dealing with Max’s absence since, well, yesterday at that point and it definitely contributed to about 5 of the shots you had taken. By now it was about 1 am, you had been in the club for hours, you were hungry and drunk and just really wanted to go to bed. But you couldn't do that because you couldn't find max and something in your drunken mind said you had to find him before you could go to bed. Something about not going to bed angry after a fight.

A fight that, truly, you didn't really have a part in. It wasn't your fault that Max had lost. I mean, it technically was but you shouldn't have been expected to let him win. Red Bull had practically been asking you to lose to him all season and you win once and suddenly Max is yelling about how inconsiderate you are.

“Come on,” Danny starts to walk toward the exit, leading you and Logan behind him as he does. The three of you stagger through the crowd, many people stopping you go congratulate you and chat as you do. By the time you've reached the strip, you've completely forgotten about Max and instead, you're only thinking about the hunger in your stomach.

“Im starving,” you mumble as you lay your head on Logan who smiles down at you, once again wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

You pay no mind to the cameras flashing as the three of you walk out or the stares that come your way. You’re more concerned about where the nearest restaurant is.

Logan moves away from you to dig through his pocket and you take the opportunity to adjust your dress, the fabric suddenly too tight on your heated body. You also wish you could take off the shoes that were causing your feet to ache. Danny takes a swig from the bottle that he, surprisingly, had been allowed to take from the club. Hair sticks to your foreheads and clothes sit rumbled and wrong. The spitting image of three elite athletes.

Logan moves back toward you to hand you the phone he had just pulled from his pocket. You had honestly forgotten you had given it to him to hold considering your dress didn’t have pockets.

“Thank you,” you nod gratefully, unlocking it to an influx of messages from friends and family congratulating you on your win or sending pictures from the club.

You clutch the device tightly as you cross your arms in an attempt to shield yourself from the cold Vegas air.

When a particularly cold chill runs through your body, you’re suddenly moving down the sidewalk, heels clicking as you try not to sway. The boys behind you follow in suit, seemingly trusting the, for the purposes of this race, Vegas native.

“Where we going, then?” Logan asks, a yawn escaping him as he readjusts the sunglasses perched on his nose.

“There’s a shake shack at New York New York,” you follow suit in yawning, pointing slightly ahead at the Empire State shaped hotel in front of you.

Daniel hums, “I want a burger.”

You laugh slightly, leading both of them toward the restaurant.

You three get there pretty quickly, ordering random greasy food that your trainers would probably disapprove of. When you sit down, you pull out your phone and send a quick series of text to Max to ask where he was. He hadn’t been there the whole night and you had finally started to miss him. He reads the messages but doesn’t reply, leaving you with a sick feeling in your stomach.

You bite into a fry to try and cover the nausea, opening your text chain with Charles and texting him instead. He actually replies this time and soon enough, Charles is on his way to you three from wherever he had gone to sober up earlier in the night.

“Charles is on his way,” you say through another yawn, eating a fry.

Daniel scarfs down a few bites of his burger, swallowing a full gulps of his drink right after, “For what?”

“Gonna help me find Max probably. We’re all too drunk to do anything by ourselves anyway.”

“Not too drunk to order food by ourselves,” Logan says, probably louder than he needs to, leaning back in his chair, glasses still on and a drink in his mouth, “Let’s fucking goooooooo.”

He follows Daniel’s lead and starts to munch on his food quickly, food you’d paid for by the way, when you turned out to be the only one who could get their Apple Pay to work.

You take a couple more bites of your food while the boys scavenge their food as if they hadn’t eaten in years.

“Hey guys!” You look up to see a particularly sober Charles Leclerc strolling through the shake shack door. You perk up when you see him, a small smiling making it through the exhaustion you were feeling.

“Hey Cha,” you say, standing up to give him a small hug, staggering a bit on your heels as you do. He leans back as you release him and steadies you, holding something up to you as he does.

Your eyes widen as he holds up a pair of converse in your eyesight and you gasp happily, quickly sitting back down in your chair and starting to fumble with the clasps on your heels.

Your fingers shake with exhaustion and alcohol and the clasp escapes your hands more than a couple times.

“Here, let me do it,” Charles offers as he sets the shoes down on the ground next to you before kneeling in front of your chair and grasping your ankle lightly.

You don’t look across the table to see Daniel and Logan making kissy faces at each other as they both stuff their faces with greasy food and soda. But you can hear their mocking kiss noises and you roll your eyes as you finally look their way, glaring as you do. They both shut up and go back to the phones in their hands.

Charles makes quick work of the clasps on both shoes, sliding the heels off your feet and untying the converse before handing them to you. You slide the shoes on and stand up, wrapping up your excess shake shack as you do.

Logan makes a noise of protest as you move to throw the food away and you sigh before sliding it across the table back to him. He makes quick work of the food, with help from Daniel reaching over his shoulder to grab food in between Logan’s bites.

You and Charles wait quietly for the two of them to finish. You eventually open your mouth to ask him a question but he seems to beat you there.

“Do you know where Max is?” He says quietly, eyes staring kindly at your tired state.

“No, he hasn’t answered my texts,” you mumble sadly, head falling to rest against your hand on the table. Charles moves slightly closer to let you rest your head on his shoulder and your eyes start to flutter closed. You were just nodding off when a loud band comes from across you and your eyes open to see Logan slamming his empty drink on the table just before Daniel does as well.

They both move from the table quickly and you and Charles rush to follow them as they bound out of the restaurant in their drunken stupor.

“Let’s go find max!” Daniel yells out swinging an arm around the blond man’s shoulders.

“To finding max!” Logan responds swinging his own arm around Daniel.

You and Charles share a look at the two of them. You had been just as drunk as them but you seemed to be sobering up quicker than both of them.

You glance down to see your heels clutched in Charles hand and pull out your phone to take a picture while he’s busy looking over your shoulder at the two drunk formula one driver some yards away.

“Come back here, losers!” Charles called out to the two of them and they both turn back to you and stumble over, seemingly dancing to music that wasn’t playing.

“We’re going to Omnia,” Charles says to the three of you and that’s all the boys need to turn around and wander toward a building they don’t know the location of.

You roll your eyes at them but follow quickly after, trying to make sure they don't wander too far away. Charles is quick to walk beside you.

The walk isn't too far, your drunkenness slowly decreasing throughout the stroll. Luckily for you and Charles, by the time you all get to the club, Daniel and Logan have sobered enough to at least walk in a straight line.

Omnia is nestled inside of Caesars Palace so it wasn't hard to find but Daniel and Logan do both try and walk past the hotel. You and Charles have to call them back and drag them into the lobby of the hotel.

The four of you wander over to the club, glancing around but when your efforts seem fruitless, you decide to wander around the area instead of just looking at the club.

The four of you wander around aimlessly, looking for any signs of your boyfriend. You glance up to see Charles with his eyes set forward, still clutching your heels in his hands. Logan and Danny fall in line next to the two of you, seemingly sobered enough to be helpful now.

Eventually you round a corner and come face to face with a surprisingly empty area, not a soul in sight. The silence almost echoes off the vaulted ceiling, making the sound of your four sets of shoes seem almost loud in comparison.

You don’t see anything in the room and go to turn around when Logan catches your elbow, “Is that him?”

You turn back around to follow Logan’s point, eyes locking on a brunette man. Of course, Logan has just been extremely inebriated so his judgement probably wasn’t the best but you decide to listen to him anyway.

You move to take a step toward the man when he stumbles backward, letting you see that it is, in fact, your boyfriend. But what causes your eyebrows to furrow is the familiar girl hanging off of him, lips practically attacking his own.

You can’t move. Your eyes are locked on the couple and your feet are solidly rooted to the marble floor. You think you might be crying, you wouldn’t be able to tell. The only thing that pulls you out of it is the feeling of a pair of heels being shoved into your arms. You glance up just in time to see Charles reeling his fist back.

You don’t think you’ll ever forget the sound of a nose breaking under a fist. Of course, it’s quiet so that probably helped a lot.

They’re screaming at each other and your brain, once again, tunes it out. You stare blankly ahead, trying to make sense of whatever the fuck you just saw. You’re pretty sure Charles’ girlfriend flees. Probably for the best. Logan swings a tanned hand in front of your eyes and suddenly the volume in the room is back once again, the screaming slowly filtering into your head.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Charles yells, blood dripping down his arm as he shoves Max in the middle of his chest.

“What’s my problem!? What’s your problem!? You’re already fucking my girlfriend, I was just evening the score,” Max spits, blood splattering against Charles’ white shirt as he shoves the man’s wrist away.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t do shit, man!”

“You proved it by showing up with her,” Logan inches forward as Max’s eyes land on you for the first time that night, seemingly ready to defend your honor. Or whatever.

“Taking her to help her find her boyfriend who turned out to be cheating on her with my girlfriend. Yeah seems really romantic mate,” Charles rolls his eyes. You can tell from his stance he’s ready to throw another punch in a heartbeat.

“Fuck you, Charles.”

“Fuck you, Max.”

There it is, the second punch flies and the two start to brawl. Rich idiot brawling, of course, no real form or anything. You reckon Max could throw a pretty good punch if he was in a better state. In the moment you’re just glad he isn’t. For Charles’ sake.

You suddenly realize that the area might not have been as secluded as you had thought. When you glance up you’re met by the literal strip, bright lights streaming in from the outside. Even at the ripe hour of 3 am. People start to gather at the commotion. Usually you’d care a lot about this kind of stuff but your brain is unfortunately too preoccupied to care.

One of these people that takes it upon themselves to insert themselves in the fight is none other than Checo Perez. The man on the grid who you could stand the least. Or at least he used to have that title, that might belong to Max now.

Upon the sound of more yelling, you tune him out. Daniel’s the one who moves in his path, causing the man to turn the argument onto Daniel. 5 foot 10 Daniel who’s been itching to throw a punch since this fight started. Daniel who was, until quite recently, black out drunk. Daniel who you knew, deep down, didn’t want to punch Max so this was a perfect solution.

You don’t end up remembering how it happens, your brain fogged with alcohol and emotions but one second, Checo and Danny are arguing and the next second, Logan’s landed a punch.

Honestly, he has a killer right hook. Especially for a drunk man. This spurs another fight and you can’t do anything but stand still in the middle of it all, tear stains running down your cheeks and high-heels clutched tightly in your arms.

It feels like an eternity later, but what probably only 5 minutes, when a figure comes up behind you and wraps an arms around your shoulders. You glance up to see a wild Oscar, pulling you away from the scene. He drops your shoulder to move back and pull Logan out of the fight, now with a bloody nose and bruised knuckles. You’re not sure how much fighting he did and how much of it was just him hitting random surfaces. Again, drunk.

You turn toward Charles and see a now unoccupied Checo walking with an arm around Max’s shoulder and a now quite sober Lando pulling Charles the other way. Danny’s made his own way out of the area, quickly pulling you away with him. You don’t argue as he does, grateful for the escape. Sound comes back to you as you re-enter the casino floor, slot machines and black-jack spread out around you.

You realize how crazy you all probably look, all six of you covered in blood in some way. Whether it be your own or a friends. You all stagger out of the hotel quickly and at some point, you lose Charles and now it’s just you, Daniel and Logan, just like how you had started the night.

Once the air hits your face you realize the reality of everything that’s just happened. Your three year relationship was now over. Your teammate and boyfriend just cheated on you. This had to be some sort of HR violation.

For the first time since you entered the quiet area, you feel yourself cry. Tears run down your cheeks as sobs rack your body. Logan is quick to get you somewhere to sit down and he lays an arm around your shoulder comfortingly, not even thinking about the fact he’s now smearing even more blood on your clothes. You get distracted form your crying when you glance up and see the blood streaming from his nose. If you could help it, you’d get his name the farthest away from this. He didn’t need this right now.

For a moment you’re too worried about Logan’s future to cry but then you glance back down at the blood on your own hands and the waterworks start again. You, of course, hadn’t punched anyone but the blood was a reminder that somebody had because of you.

You eventually get the sobs to go away, standing up with a slight wobble, leaning on Daniel as he catches you.

You have no idea where the rest of your friend had gone or even where you were gonna sleep tonight. So you text the one person you had complete faith in during this situation.

“Can I stay with you?”

————————————————

[quartzalynlove]

Coming Home Injured

Pairing: Liu Kang, Kenshi, Johnny Cage, Raiden, Sub Zero, Scorpion, Smoke, Reptile x fem!reader (separately)

Summary: returning from a mission with a few bad injuries

Warnings: Canon typical violence, some descriptions of bad wounds

A/N: let's see if I can make personalized pet names for each of them without them being cringe. Feedback encouraged. Also if we're gonna keep writing for all 8 of these guys at once it's gonna take a minute for me to post so sorry abt that but more mk1 content is coming

Liu Kang

The two of you sat in silence from the moment you returned home. You had completed the mission, but only by an inch of your life. The image of Liu Kang's concerned face, before you fainted in his arms, was still clear in your head.

Liu Kang assessed your injuries before treating them, trying not to be alarmed by the long, deep gash cut from your side into your abdomen. All the while, that look on his face never faded. You had seen Liu Kang when he was concerned many times, but this was different. That crease between his brows was deeper for some reason. As his hands shook, uncharacteristically, while he cleaned your wound, you finally identified the expression. It was the same one you saw when Kenshi lost his sight on the mission to capture Shang Tsung.

"Darling," your voice was weak as you looked down at him.

Immediately, Liu Kang's eyes shot up at you. With his worry growing, he placed a hand on your thigh.

"My light, please do not exert yourself."

Slowly, your hand took hold of his. Your grip was so weak that Liu Kang could hardly bear it. Instead, he took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles. You felt a shuddering breath against your skin as he pulled away.

"Don't you think you're a bit too concerned?" You asked.

With deep regret, Liu Kang bowed his head, not able to look at what he'd done to you.

"You shouldn't have returned this injured," his low voice started to break. "I shouldn't have—"

You stopped him before he could say another thing, "Lift your head," you told him.

Liu Kang looked up at you, slowly, his breaths still heavy and unsteady.

"You used your judgment as well as you could, and I fulfilled your orders. I came back to you."

Starting to calm, Liu Kang nodded in understanding.

"Not every round of Kombat is easy, but I'll be okay."

Upon seeing your reassuring smile, Liu Kang's breathing finally steadied, and his grip on your hand started to soften.

Kenshi

You winced in pain as Kenshi finished a stitch on a rather brutal injury. If he hadn't gotten to you sooner, the blood loss would have killed you. What you did lose on your staggering trek back home already made you lightheaded. Kenshi insisted on you resting; he made you something to eat and made sure you were drinking water. As you laid on the couch, resting yourself after a tough mission, Kenshi was rubbing your feet. You noticed his clenched jaw and the tight line his lips formed. Part of you wished you could sit up and hold his face, but you didn't want to risk popping a stitch while it was still fresh.

"What's on your mind, Kenshi?"

He turned toward your voice before trying to dismiss you with a shake of his head. "Nothing, my flower. Please try to rest."

"Don't say 'nothing' when it's clearly something, love."

You didn't say anything else, still too out of it to try and coax anything else from him. Thankfully, he wasn't going to make you do the work.

"I should've been there," He said quietly. "If I were there to protect you, you this wouldn't have happened."

Kenshi was such a gentleman, your very own knight in shining armor, but he often piled too much on his plate without noticing. He did know he didn't have to save you every time, didn't he?

A lazy smile graced your face, "Honey, I'm fine." You told him.

"You aren't fine—"

You interrupted, "I'll be fine," you said slowly. "You've patched my wounds, forced food and water down my throat, and you're even keeping me company here and rubbing my feet. You've saved me already, my hero."

Kenshi sighed as your words put him at ease, silently accepting that you were right.

"Besides," you continued. "I'm a big girl; I can handle myself. You should ask Sento to show you the other guy."

As Kenshi started to chuckle, you wore a proud smile before feeling yourself fall asleep on the couch.

Johnny Cage

Johnny was all over the place. While you held onto your side on the couch, he searched the area frantically for God knows what. All you could hear was his half-rambled sentences around.

"Johnny." You tried to get his attention.

He stopped for just a second just to point a finger at you. "Hey, don't move over there. I just gotta..."

As he left again, you let your head fall back, sighing in pain.

"I'm calling Liu Kang." You said.

Something in the kitchen clattered as Johnny shouted. "No, don't call him; I've got this!"

"I've been bleeding on our couch for five minutes!"

Sighing, Johnny came back again and looked at you. In any other circumstance, it would be cute how frantic he was over you. Unfortunately, however, your life was at stake and he was running around the house like the Roadrunner. Finally, Johnny finished assessing your injuries.

"Water," he snapped his fingers. "I'll get you some water."

"Johnny!" You stopped him before he could take off again.

In Johnny's defense, he was very worried. It was written all over his face. As you sighed, you spoke to him very carefully.

"I keep a first aid kit in the bathroom cabinet."

With many understanding nods, Johnny seemed to calm down before heading to the bathroom.

"First aid kit," he said to himself. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Raiden

You didn't know how you were still alive, and if it weren't for Raiden, you'd surely be dead. Once you got through the portal, you tried to make it home to him, but Raiden ended up finding you collapsed on the academy grounds as blood quickly made a pool around your stomach. When you came to, the only sensation you could make out was Raiden's feet striking the ground as he ran with you in his arms. You must have managed to say something because you saw his eyes meet yours before darkness obstructed your vision again

The next time you woke you were somewhere indoors. A bright yellow light blinded you before your eyes could adjust. You felt Raiden squeeze your hand as your head turned.

"You're awake." He gasped.

All you could muster was a faint smile. That searing pain from the gash that opened your stomach still wasn't gone.

"Not for long." You said weakly.

Raiden's face became worried as he inched closer to you from his chair at your side.

"I must keep you awake," he said almost as a plea to you. "I've taken you to the medics, and they said if you wake I couldn't let you close your eyes again."

You whined with a frown. "It hurts, Raiden."

Raiden brought his free hand on top of yours, trying to comfort you with small rubs.

"I know, but I am here. I've got you."

As you looked at Raiden, the pain seemed to lessen. Everything felt warmer as long as you focused on him.

"I bet Shao thought he killed me." You said.

A bright smile appeared on Raiden's face at your decision to stay with him. "He is in for a surprise the next time you meet."

Sub Zero

You were a victim of Bi-Han's cold frustration. Honestly, it agitated you more than the searing pain caused by the cleaning of the open wound across your side.

From the moment you came back to him, limping through the front door with the last of your strength, he didn't utter a sound. You remained in awkward silence as he had you sit on the kitchen counter with your back straight while he patched you up.

As he stitched you up, Bi-Han was moving at a harsh pace. It wouldn't harm your wound, but it was almost more painful than the wound itself. Bi-Han was aware of the sharp breaths you sucked in and pained gasps, but they were no deterrent to quickness.

"Bi-Han," you finally snapped at him.

With a cocked eyebrow, Bi-Han stepped back, eyeing you with such an icy glare and that scowl you thought wasn't welcome in your home.

Your eyes searched his face, hoping to find your lover buried beneath that avalanche, "You're hurting me." You said.

A scoff came from Bi-Han as he attempted to work on you once again. "This can't hurt nearly as bad as your other injuries."

You wouldn't let him come back to you, however, pushing him back with the palm of your hand. "Well, it isn't exactly helping."

Bi-Han folded his arms over his chest. "Do you expect me to coddle you?"

"Some sympathy wouldn't hurt." You spat back.

In disbelief, Bi-Han came back to you, forcing himself into your view. "You want my sympathy for the consequences of your reckless actions? My assistance is enough comfort."

He readied the needle for the next stitch, but before he could jam another hole into you, you took the needle out of his hand.

You didn't look at him as you spoke. "I would rather help myself."

After staring at you for a moment, Bi-Han walked away with a grunt. However, even as he started to leave, your wincing continued. You tried to finish the stitching yourself, but the wound was in such a place that you couldn't reach it without straining the rest of your body. Not to mention aggravating the wound itself.

Bi-Han couldn't bear to watch and listen to you struggle. You were only hurting yourself more. Casting his face down for a moment, Bi-Han exhaled before returning to your side.

Before you could begin another stitch, you felt a cold hand stop the needle.

"The stitching will be ineffective this way."

That growl had left Bi-Han's voice, and his face softened, save the deep crease between his brows. Although his gaze would not meet yours, you gave the needle back to Bi-Han, feeling in the air that his anger had dissipated. As he went to work once again, he was much more gentle, and his work didn't hurt nearly as much. Still, he was very quiet. It was clear he wasn't angry with you anymore, but something still troubled him.

Once the stitch was finished, Bi-Han went to tend to your smaller injuries, remaining so quiet and drawn away from you. As he went to clean a cut on your cheek his eyes remained fixated on the wound, not once glancing towards you. Becoming concerned for him, you stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

"Bi-Han," you began turning to face him, but his face turned away. "Will you look at me, sweetheart?"

He couldn't; he was ashamed to do so. Although he should have had better control over himself, Bi-Han lost his temper with you.

"I was worried," he said, his face finally falling. "Seeing you come home in this state concerned me. I'm sorry I let it contort into anger."

With a small smile, you took the side of Bi-Han's face in your hand, fixing it towards you. It melted him a bit to see your face. Even after how he had acted, you still smiled at him.

"I knew of your anger long before we got together," you said. "And while it can be frustrating, that doesn't mean I'm not willing to work through it as long as you are."

Bi-Han leaned into your touch, sighing as he let his eyes close. "Just promise you'll act more carefully on future missions."

Scorpion

Kuai Liang tended to the large gash across the length of the back. The wound was deep and wide, he could hardly fathom how this had happened to you. However, his focus remained on bandaging you before it suffered any infection. Kuai Liang worked gently as he secured the bandages around you, but you dreaded turning back to him. Once you did, you turned away quickly from his gentle face, eager to get away from where his eyes gazed. Confused by this, he stopped you, taking a soft but firm hold of your arm.

"You should let me help with getting you ready for bed. I don't want you exhausting yourself, precious."

You huffed, but couldn't lose your temper with Kuai Liang's warm eyes gazing at you. Still, you snatched your arm back, turning your back to him again.

"I can manage, Kuai Liang." Your tone wasn't exactly angry but somber instead, bringing a confused expression to Kuai Liang's face.

He started to catch up to you again, "Your injuries are very serious, Y/N." He said as a word of caution.

As your jaw clenched, you quickly turned back to Kuai Liang, your tone more serious now. "And I said I can manage."

Suddenly, a sharp pain radiated through your shoulder, causing you to wince and grab at it. You turned too fast. Kuai Liang placed a hand on your shoulder, generating the softest heat to ease the pain.

"Beloved, what is wrong," He said with concern as he turned back in front of you. "It can't just be your injuries making you this upset."

With a soft sigh, you started to break your frustration, letting the sadness you truly felt manifest in your face, "Aren't you disappointed?" You looked up at him.

Kuai Liang's brows furrowed in confusion. Your expression was so sad and apologetic. How could you think he was disappointed?

"In you," he asked in disbelief. "Of course not, precious. Why would I be?"

Gesturing to yourself, you let out a shuddering breath, "Look at me," your voice began to break. "This is no state for a champion to be in after Kombat,"

Kuai Liang felt his heart break; he knew you always held yourself to a status that kept you worthy of the mantle that was Earthrealm's champion, but he hated to see you acting this harshly towards yourself.

As tears started forming in your eyes, you continued. "You and your brothers fight to bring honor to your clan's name; you persist no matter the challenge. How can I be a champion when I haven't done the same for Earthrealm?"

You faced the floor as tears streamed down your cheek, but Kuai Liang wouldn't let you shut yourself out from him again. Lifting your head with his index finger, Kuai Liang started wiping your tears as his hands cradled your face.

"Beloved," his voice was soft as he spoke to you. "You accepted your challenge and fought with all you had. Honor isn't about winning but fighting valiantly in the name of your clan. By engaging in Kombat for the glory of Earthrealm and its champions, you have brought honor. For that, I am proud of you as I always am."

As your tears slowed, Kuai Liang gazed into your eyes with a nod of understanding. Once you nodded back, he planted a kiss on top of your head.

Smoke

Tomas hadn't left your side since you returned home last night, and though he tried his best to conceal it, you could feel how worried he was. All of your wounds were patched up, and you were starting to feel better, but he still insisted on doing every little thing for you. It was sweet; you knew how much he cared for his loved ones, especially you, but he did know you'd be okay, right?

By the time you had woken up, Tomas was in the shower, and you were starving. It wasn't going to strain you to cook breakfast, so that's what you went to do.

You had just begun cooking when Tomas came out of the shower. When he returned to your bedroom and found the bed to be empty, he froze in fear. Frantically, he hurried around the house, looking for you. It didn't take him long to reach the kitchen where you were cooking at the stove.

"What are you doing out of bed, my love?"

You turned to see Tomas' concerned face. Smiling, in hopes you would put him at ease, you gestured to the pan of bacon on the stove.

"Cooking," you answered him. "I'm hungry; I bet you are too."

With a small frown, Tomas sighed softly as he leaned against the island, "I could've handled this." He said.

As you turned back to the stove, you nodded. "Yes, but you were in the shower. Besides, I felt like cooking."

You could hear Tomas grumbling behind you as he came closer. Suddenly, he put his hand on top of yours, trying to take the pan from you.

"I'd much prefer it if you stayed in bed, my love."

Tightening your grip, you looked back at him. "I've been in bed since yesterday evening, let me cook us breakfast."

By this point, Tomas didn't know what to do other than pout disapprovingly, but you weren't going to have it.

"Tomas," you called him. "Look at me."

With a sigh, he listened, backing up to eye you before you explained your instruction.

"I'm doing better. It's not like I'm going to fall over at the stove."

He tried to interrupt, "You don't—" But you silenced him with a hand on the center of his chest.

You continued softly. "Go sit down and wait for your food."

The two of you shared a brief look before you closed your eyes, waiting for him to kiss you. Once he did, you opened your eyes to Tomas walking to sit at the table.

Reptile

You hissed as Syzoth finished a stitch on your shoulder.

"I know it hurts, but we're almost done." He tried to calm you.

Usually, you tried to fight him when he patched you up, but you came home in pretty rough shape. The only complaining you could manage was in the form of winces and grunts. Syzoth never really minded, though. If anything you reminded him of his younger siblings when they'd hurt themselves playing.

"There," He said, putting the needle down. "You'll be fine in a few days."

As Syzoth looked at you with a soft face, you couldn't help feeling a small sense of shame.

"I'm sorry." You apologized, playing with your hands in your lap.

Syzoth tilted his head at you. "For what?"

"I can be so stubborn when you're only trying to help."

An incredulous slithering laugh started to leave Syzoth at your words, confusing you a bit. Putting your hands in his, Syzoth looked into your eyes.

"Firefly, I have faced much worse than you upset about getting a few stitches. As long as you're okay, you can bicker and grunt at me all you like."

Syzoth kissed you on the forehead before leading you to the bed.

"I never did ask how your opponent ended up." He looked over at you.

With a proud smile, you answered him. "Let's just say if I was injured the same, would have done more than bicker at you."

[oukabarsburgblr]

drabble...

FEATURING: AITO SOUSUKE (OC), DAISUKE YUICHI (OC) x male reader

"Why the fuck did you come along if you knew you were gonna get scared?"

Sousuke hissed, jabbing his finger into Daisuke's chest who swatted his hand away. "I can go wherever I want? Your house is the furthest from all of us, why the hell would you stay back so late?" The pair were arguing, the moonlight shining through the windows of the dark hallways.

(m/n) and Haru only groaned, as they walked in front of the two. It was already night and they had came back to the academic buildings of the high school they attended. The (h/c) had misplaced his phone in his other bookbag which was in his class, he dragged Haru, his childhood best friend, to accompany him to retrieve it and Sousuke heard and tagged along but Daisuke wasn't going to leave (m/n) and Sousuke alone in a scenario where romantic moments can occur.

Although it would be challenging for the ravenette.

Haru swiped his long blonde bangs back, his bleached eyebrows furrowing in annoyance. "They're so loud. We're going to get caught by the security guards..." He complained and (m/n) whined as he shook his best friend's arm. "We're almost there. Don't leave me with these two idiots."

"How did you even forgot your phone out of all things?" "I don't play my phone all the time. Unlike you-" (m/n) heaved as his chest was smacked by Haru, catching Sousuke's attention.

"Hey! Don't touch him!" Sousuke scowled at Haru who rolled his eyes at him. Daisuke was fussing over the groaning (h/c). This was the norm for the group of third years, doing stupid shit but tonight was a highlight since they were alone during scary hours in an empty school.

Daisuke clinged to (m/n), scared out of his wits as he buried his face into the latter's shoulder, effectively dragging him in their step. "Why is your class so far away?" His hand was trembling lightly as the (h/c) rubbed his arm for comfort but the ravenette was too heavy for him.

"Sousuke, hold him." He pushed the ravenette into the redhead's hold, Daisuke gasping in betrayal as he scrunched his nose at Sousuke. "How could you??" He creened in disgust as he shoved himself away from Sousuke. (m/n) entered his class, pulling Haru as well leaving the pair to stand in the dark halls. The redhead glaring at Daisuke.

"You're a pussy, Daisuke." "Fuck you?? WHAT THE HELL-" He screeched as he instinctively jumped up and grabbed onto Sousuke, the redhead unintentionally holding him as he staggered in surprise. Daisuke had seen something flew past him and under the light it was a huge ass moth.

It wasn't really any better as he screamed while squirming in Sousuke's arms, the latter yelling at him to quiet down, opting to just drop him. Haru and (m/n) exited the class, the latter with his phone in his hand and gazed at the two unimpressed.

"Are you two dating or something..." Haru muttered as he rolled his eyes, leaving the group and (m/n) followed suit, his eyebrows scrunched and his lips frowning and pouting.

"Wait! It's not what it looks like!" Sousuke dropped the ravenette onto the floor and ran after (m/n), blabbering that he had nothing to do with the ravenette. Daisuke cussed and chased after them, not wanting to be left behind and prompted to hit Sousuke in the head resulting in more arguments as they exited the building.

They did get caught by the security guard. (m/n) was not impressed with Daisuke and Sousuke. Haru doesn't want to be friends with them anymore. Sousuke just kept blaming Daisuke and the latter kept talking about a moth??

[END SCENE]

Afterthoughts:

I feel better now. Friend group with daisuke (ravenette), Sousuke (redhead), Onaga Haru (blonde) and (m/n).

Their main story will be set in highschool. I got inspired seeing Kubz Scouts recent video haha

[rs-hawk]

Could you do a modern day female orc x female reader? I see very little now

Sure! A lot of my short stories tend not to be modern set so that might be why for me.

When you saw Cassia for the first time, your heart fluttered. Your chest felt tight. Your lungs were tight. It was like you were struck all at once. Was this what love at first sight felt like? It was a whirlwind romance, but after only a few days of talking, she was inviting you out to drinks. You flushed when you said yes.

Of course, you forgot that Orc bars are not the same thing as human bars. There were similarities, the loud music, the loud patrons, and the stench of liquor and sweat, but the way that the Orcs interacted with each other was something you never thought about, and definitely didn't expect.

Cassia, being a large woman, with large, thick tusks that put even many male ones to shame, commanded respect the second she walked in. All eyes were on her, and your face flushed darkly under the gaze of the other Orcs. Once the two of you sat down, the bartender didn't even ask you what you wanted to drink. He just slid a glass of clear liquid towards you.

"it's pretty much the only thing humans can drink in here," Cassia explained, taking what was clearly her usual from the bartender who winked at her as he handed the glass to her.

"Is Orc liquor that much stronger?" you asked, looking at her glass curiously. Was it really stronger, or was it just that Orcs are so large that it doesn't affect them the same way?

She laughed, tilting the glass towards you. "If you're going to eye me so suspiciously take a sip and see for yourself." When you leaned forward, she leaned in, whispering in a voice that made heat pool between your legs, "a sip, human. Remember."

And you did. You took a sip, and she was right. Whatever Orc liquor was made of was way too strong for humans. If you had drank much more than that, you'd be black out drunk already. You laughed, and the two of you seemed to be getting along really well. You kept leaning over, touching her arm, batting your eyes up at her. Every time you did, it made her smile, or laugh. She was clearly enthralled with you too.

Before too long, both of you were drunk. "I have to pee," you announced, staggering to your feet.

"I'll go with you," she offered, getting up on her unsteady feet.

The two of you leaned against each other, with you obviously leaning more heavily on her. Once the two of you were done, and washing your hands, Cassia looked over at you.

"You're gorgeous," she muttered, her eyes now hungry as her gaze stalked up and down your body.

Goosebumps sprung up under her gaze. "So are you. I don't think I've ever seen a more beautiful woman," you whispered, eyes round as she leaned forward to finally kiss you.

The kiss was rough, and you had to be careful because of her tusks. They scraped the side of your cheeks, but you didn't care. Her mouth tasted like liquor and gum, and you hoped your breath didn't smell or taste bad, but that thought only came to you for a moment as she lifted you onto the counter. Part of you wanted to protest, but between the intoxication from the liquor and the intoxication from how good she was making you feel, you didn't dare.

She slipped a hand down your pants, pressing her fingers to your soaked cunt over your panties. "So wet already for me," she moaned, pushing your panties to the side to be able to tease you with one of her large fingers.

You spread your legs, wanting to give her more access. "So good. You're so good," you moaned back, grinding your hips against her finger.

It wasn't long until she had brought you to the edge of an orgasm, where you were whining and begging her to let you finish. However, when she dropped to her knees, ripping off your pants and panties, you almost cry in anticipation. Her fat tongue works over your desperate cunt perfectly. Her finger now circling and teasing your clit as she lapped at you, parting your lower lips with her skilled tongue. Tears pricked your eyes as you felt yourself tettering on the edge as she played with your body.

"Cum for me. I want to taste you," she groaned against your skin, reaching up with her other hand to fondle and play with one of your breasts, lightly pinching the nipple.

Almost on command, you cum, covering your mouth to keep from screaming, though you're sure the whole bar knows what the two of you were doing in here. After the waves of pleasure crashing over you subside, she kisses your inner thighs, her tusks scraping the soft skin there, threatening, but also comforting. Such a dangerous creature is so gentle with you.

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[sugar--brown]

A bit of fluff

Because we need more fluff to balance all the angst people are creating with the cat!Martin AU by @ultramarinaa

I'm preparing a proper big fic, but meanwhile I made this.

What were the chances to read a book made of only two pages and turning into a cat because of it only a few months after your promotion?

Not much. Martin was sure of that. As sure as the fact, he was in deeeep troubles. What would his boss say?! Turning into a cat should be pretty high on the scale of being unprofessional. Especially after introducing himself as the incompetent fool who let dogs run free in the archives! Jon will be so disappointed and annoyed! He was toasted!

Maybe... Maybe he could fix this? Maybe if he could read the book backward…?

Martin took a tentative step forward and immediately face-planted on the floor. Right. Four legs instead of two. That was great.

He meowed - gosh! he meowed! - pathetically before standing up, ready to make another attempt. But this time, everything was blurry.

… why was everything blurry?

Oh. His glasses. Right. Face-planting on the floor meant losing your glasses. Strange thing that his clothes disappeared with his body, while his glasses stayed the same…

Ah. Great. He couldn't put them back on. Because he was a cat. Without hands. Just very big and soft paws.

He really needed to fix this before anyone sees him!

Staggering a little, Martin began to walk cautiously toward the evil book. He was scared - heck! even terrified - of it. But what could it do more? Turning him into another type of cat?

With apprehension, Martin used his front right par to hit the book quickly. Nothing happened. Ready to bolt backward, he very slowly peaked at the fourth cover.

A wonderful fairytale where only the purrest love can help the hero to save the damsel.

Ah. Ah. Ah. Very funny.

Annoyed, Martin hit the book so hard that it flew away, landing between cardboard boxes full of statements. Great! He was already sick of it!

Two hands grabbed him and lifted him up.

“Hello!” cooed the stranger who just grabbed him without any warning.

Martin meowed and hissed in panic, squirming with all his might. But the stranger hugged him against their chest and started scratching him behind the ears. Oooooooh that was good…

“There, there, it's okay now. You are safe. I don't know how you got here, but I promise I won't hurt you.”

Wait. That voice… was it…?!

“I'm Jonathan, what's your name?”

Martin's eyes grew wide in shock. That was Jon! His boss! His prickly, cold-hearted, boss! And he was cooing at him like he was the cutest thing in the world.

Oh gosh… he was in deep troubles.

“Hey bossman! Did you find Martin? He was supposed to-... is that a cat?”

Tim appeared around the corner, clearly amused by the scene. Jon immediately stopped cooing and scratching Martin's ears, becoming all tenser and professional.

“Ah. Yes, it is… it is a cat. I caught it before it can do any damages.”

Hey! Martin wouldn’t have done any damages! He knew he wasn't the most graceful person, but he wasn't that clumsy. …right?

“What are you all doing back there? Oh! That's a very cute cat, Jon.”

And here was Sasha. Each second was more humiliating than the last. Martin really wanted to run and hide somewhere dark, tiny and safe right now.

“Do you know where it comes from?” asked Sasha, getting closer to inspect Martin.

“No, I just heard him. He doesn't have any tattoos or tag on him.” answered Jon, putting unconsciously a possessive hand on Martin's back. “I have not the faintest idea how he arrived here.”

“Ha! You know cats, boss, they are real champions when they want something!” laughed Tim.

“Champion… that's a good name.”

“Wow! You are already naming him? You move fast!” teased Tim with a smirk.

“We can't keep him, he may have an owner already.” added Sasha, more pragmatic.

“W-well… We can't call him ‘the cat’, that would be properly ridiculous.”

If Martin didn't know better, he would have thought Jon was embarrassed. But he couldn't, he was never embarrassed. On the other hand, he hadn’t reacted like this with the dog so…

While he was lost in his thoughts about his ridiculously cute boss, the group had moved on back to the break room.

Wait. What about the book?! And his glasses?!

Martin was almost able to escape, but Jon's soft hands captured him over his shoulder at the last second. But that didn't stop him to agitated his fluffy paws with a few panicked meows.

“What's wrong, Champion?” asked Jon, looking back with surprise. “Oh, good spot! There are glasses on the floor.”

Martin had half a hope to see Jon putting his glasses on his nose so he could see, but of course, he didn't. Instead, he inspected them before putting them in his pocket with a disgusted face.

“Aren't they Martin's?” asked Tim with curiosity.

“Yes.” groaned Jon. “He must have lost them while clumsily searching for a statement. I still don't understand why he had been assigned here. He clearly didn't have the competences to-... hey!”

Martin had escaped Jon's grasp with a hiss. He knew he wasn't good at his job, but that didn't mean he wanted to hear it!

Before Jon could grab him again, Martin flew under a shelf, deep enough so he couldn't be grabbed. He heard the others shout in surprise and agitation, but he was too agitated to pay attention.

He vaguely heard Tim saying to “cut him some slack” and Sasha guessing that “champion surely needs space”. And Martin decided to do just that. He would stay here until everyone was gone, and then he would find the book to turn himself back.

Hours went by. And Martin must have snooze at some point because when he focused again, everything was calm and quiet. Tentatively, he came out.

Nothing to worry about. The lights were off and Tim and Sasha weren't here any more. So, he walked as silently as possible to where he had launched the book.

Until he heard a groan.

Martin froze. And slowly, oh so slowly, turned his head. 

Jon was still here. In fact, Jon was so focused on his work he hadn’t noticed Martin. So he could have continued, but… something was off. Jon didn't look… healthy. Or at least less than usual.

He seemed barely able to not passed out. He was pale, sweaty and his eyes were unfocused.

… when was the last time had Jon eaten? They didn't see him going out of his office at lunch…

With a sigh, Martin shook his head and walked to the break room's fridge. To be fair, he was a bit hungry himself. And he knew his fish salade was in here. He always brought double portions in case someone forgot their lunch.

It took a lot of time and effort, but Martin was able to open the fridge and to drag the dish to Jon's office.

“Champion? You're out? What are you… oh.”

Jon stood up quickly, too quickly because he needed a few second to make the world stopped spinning. Then, he knelt in front of Martin.

“Where did you… oh, you must be hungry. Right. Sorry… I'm a bit rusty at taking care of a cat. You are really smart, you know? Stealing Martin's food… I'm sure he wouldn’t mind, since he left work early to go find a replacement for his glasses.”

Martin huffed in annoyance. Why did Jon was so… harsh? Sure, he was a fool but still…

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Let me open this.”

That what he did, but he didn't eat. Maybe he needed some encouragements? Martin his best imitation of pleading kitty eyes while hitting softly the salad.

“You… want to share?”

Jon visibly melted, almost like he was ready to cry. But instead, he just sat on the floor and began eating the veggies while giving the sardines to Martin.

They shared in silence. But it was the best interaction Martin had Jon since… since ever! So he wouldn’t complain.

When they finished, Jon suddenly bent down and gently hugged Martin, bumping his head with his.

“Thank you…” he whispered in a broken voice.

And the genuine, honest, sweet, smile of Jon made Martin think that everything wasn't so terrible.

[eatmyheartoutjpg]

𓇻 𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗦 ˢᵉᵛⁱᵏᵃ ˣ ᵍⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ;; Shortfic. Platonic (can be seen as rom). You are a horrible fighter and very much weak. So, no one understands why you're the other hand of Silco, and alongside his second in command, Sevika. But one day, she stumbles back and you show off your skills. 𝘼/𝙉 ;; If you're wondering how I'm cranking these out, it's because these were sitting in my drafts and I've decided to post them after a bit of refurbishing! Also, not a big fan of this one, doesn't have a smooth flow.

11.23.24 Masterlist

The dim glow of neon buzzed faintly outside Silco's office. Zaun always hummed with life, but tonight, there was an edge to it—a tension that hung heavy in the air. You sat quietly in the corner, as you often did, thumbing through a well-worn medical journal that had somehow survived the grime of the Undercity. Silco was across the room, doing his usual paperwork. Both of you remained silent, the only sounds being his pen scratching paper or the flipping of your pages.

Silco didn't pick you for your combat skills—everyone knew that. You weren't Sevika, with her mechanical arm and ruthless efficiency, nor were you one of the brash enforcers who made Piltover's elites shudder. You were soft, meek even, compared to them. The whispering never stopped. "Why keep a fragile little thing like that so close?"

You didn't care at all, you're only here to work.

The door slammed open, and Sevika staggered in, the floorboards loudly squeaking underneath her weight. Blood seeped through a gash in her side, staining her coat. She leaned heavily on the doorframe, her usual air of dominance replaced by exhaustion and pain.

"Sevika." Silco's voice was sharp, but calm, as he rose from his chair. His cold eyes flicked to you. "Do something."

You were already moving, tossing your book aside and rushing to Sevika's side. She waved you off with a grunt, trying to brush past you, but her knees buckled.

"Sit down before you collapse," you snapped, uncharacteristically firm.

Her glare could've melted steel, but she complied, sinking into a chair. "Don't need a damn babysitter," she muttered, clutching her side.

"You need stitches," you said, pulling open your satchel. You always carried it, just in case—gloves, thread, antiseptic, syringes, and tools you'd cobbled together over the years. "And maybe a tetanus shot if whatever stabbed you wasn't clean."

You snapped on your gloves, stretching them around your fingers. You seemed oddly calm, as if this were routine.

"How do you even—?" Sevika started, but winced as you pressed gauze against the wound.

"Hold still." Your hands moved with precision, cleaning the wound and threading the needle. You heard her grunt in pain. "This would be easier if you stopped squirming." You felt the warmth of her blood coating your gloves.

Silco watched from the corner, silent but attentive. His gaze was calculating, as though measuring you against some invisible scale.

Sevika's breathing steadied as you worked. Her grumbles softened into a grudging silence, and when you tied off the final stitch, she finally spoke. "

You're good at this," she admitted, though her tone was reluctant. She never knew you could do this. She's never seen you work.

"Better than being good at fighting, don't you think?"

Silco’s lips twitched—just barely—but it was the closest thing to a smile you’d seen from him. "Better indeed," he murmured.

Sevika leaned back in her chair, examining your work. "Guess I owe you one," she said gruffly, though her tone suggested she wasn't thrilled about it.

You shrugged, collecting your things. "Just doing my job."

For the first time, the room was silent—not out of suspicion or derision, but respect.

The quiet between the three of you didn't last long. Sevika shifted in her chair, grimacing as she tested her side. "Still hurts like hell," she grumbled, though there was less edge to her tone.

"That's because you're not a machine, Sevika, no matter how much that arm makes you think you are," you replied without missing a beat, gathering the bloodied gauze and tossing it the nearby bin before tugging off your gloves in suit. "You'll need to take it easy for a few days. No heavy lifting, no bar brawls, no running headfirst into walls,” You paused, turning to your employer, Silco, "And work no jobs." You saw Silco narrow his gaze before nodding in agreement before you turned your head back at Sevika. "Understood?"

Her laugh was sharp, almost incredulous. "Take it easy? You do realize who you're talking to, right?"

She doesn't take orders from you, Silco has to say it himself.

You raised an eyebrow, unbothered. "I do. And I also know if you pop those stitches, you'll be right back here begging me to patch you up again. And I don't like beggars." You spoke in a lightly mocking tone.

Sevika started to retort, but Silco cut her off. "Sevika." His voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of finality. "You'll do as they say. You're no good to me half-dead."

For a moment, Sevika looked like she might argue, but she thought better of it. Instead, she leaned back in the chair with a huff, the cushion collapsing behind her. She muttered something under her breath about "soft hands" and "too many rules."

Silco turned his attention to you, his mismatched eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you.

You straightened, feeling his gaze like a weight on your shoulders. "I know how to keep people alive." You did not turn around, instead keeping your eyes transfixed on Sevika, looking for any hints of discomfort.

"And that, it seems, is worth more than I gave it credit for," he replied, his tone softening just slightly. "Zaun needs fighters, yes. But it also needs people who can mend what others break."

Sevika snorted, crossing her arms. "You're lucky, y'know," she said, nodding toward you. "Most people like you wouldn't last a day down here. Seems you got the skill to.”

You didn't reply, instead focusing on cleaning your tools. You weren't one to bask in attention, at least of all from the likes of Sevika or Silco. Still, her words lingered in the air, carrying an odd mix of grudging respect and curiosity.

"I'd rather keep it that way."

Her huff was faint, hesitant. “Thanks... doc.” You weren't the bruiser, the muscle, or the enforcer. But you were something else, something Zaun desperately needed. And Silco knew it. That's why he kept you close.

ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ

[hamsternella]

Second part of this one

Bill Cipher x Fem!Reader

cw: gore, bill is a warning by himself, mdni, yandere and obsessive behavior

''She's my wife! You're talking about my wife, Cipher!'' Ford ran his hands through his hair, feeling desperate. Disgust was driving him mad; fury was blinding him. ''You've crossed a boundary! You're a…''

''A monster, a madman, a sick man,'' Bill interrupted him lazily. ''Yeah, yeah. I get that a lot, thanks, Fordsy. Anyway, what do you say? Do we have a deal?''

Ford backed up a couple of steps, colliding with the edge of his desk behind him. His hand brushed against a statuette of Cipher himself; a figure of pure gold that weighed between his fingers as he lifted it into the air, eyes fixed on the demon. The latter shook his hand in denial. 'No, no. Don't even think about it.' But he did it anyway. He didn't even get to hit him—Bill had disappeared.

"Come back here, Bill!" cried the investigator in despair. "Don't you dare lay a hand on my wife again, Cipher!"

But all he received in response was a shrill laugh, and the blow of a warm breeze that made him stagger. The lights went out, and in the gloom the only thing that enveloped Ford was silence barely interrupted by his own breathing.

"My God," he whispered, "what have I done?"

After your talk with Bill, and the forced kiss that sealed an implied deal, your life becomes confusing and uncomfortable.

The demon had not stopped possessing your husband until the day you decided that enough was enough.

The limit was to have found him on you, forcing your petticoats with the hands of the man who was supposed to be your companion.

How were you supposed to know when it was Ford and not Bill? How could you let him kiss your lips with that sweetness, sometimes interspersed with the awkwardness of a need that already seemed alien to you?

When Ford found out about the situation you were acting so strange about, his fury is such that even you find yourself terrified of the human as you were of the demon.

They felt like one and the same entity. At this point you didn't know what to think about it.

Your relationship with your husband deteriorated considerably. It was easy to see how uncomfortable it made him to know that you and Bill had been intimate.

"Aren't we ever going to talk about it, then? Ford, I'm addressing the word to you..."

"I know," he interrupted you, the frustration palpable in his voice. "You've been saying the same thing every day, throughout every week; it's a regular thing come this point."

"Because we need to talk about it! For God's sake, Ford, you can't even stand to be in the same room with me anymore. Do you think this situation hasn't affected me too?"

You heard his footsteps coming towards where you were. You felt him in front of you, with his scent and his breathing altered into a choked growl. "Be honest with me, didn't you suspect at any time that that imitation wasn't me?"

"Ford, not again with this..." you sighed.

"Not again, you say? Not again, as if it were something upsetting to you," he exclaimed. "Oh, well, perhaps it is—perhaps because things happened there that I don't know about. More things I don't know—I don't want to know. Terrible things, lots of secrets hidden from me, your husband!"

"Are you serious, Stanford? You're coming at me with such audacity!" You had risen from your seat, colliding immediately with your husband's chest. His hands took you by surprise; a shove brought you back to the world as you hit the table at your side. "Ford! What's wrong with you, God..."

"This is all wrong! This is all terrible!" he shouted. Moments later there was silence. It took your husband some time to regulate his own breathing. "Whole weeks... being possessed by a creature I thought was my friend, my companion. Days believing I was falling into madness; the darkness of a confused dream enveloping me, devouring my senses... all of me. All of me! My works, my researches, my wife! He dared to possess my woman!"

"So that's what I am to you," you hastened to add. "Just your woman. That's what this irrational outburst of yours is all about, Stanford."

"It's everything! This is about everything! For God's sake, woman, understand. He's taken everything from me—he's trying to make it, and he's closing in on me by leaps and bounds... He's wanted to ruin my life completely and you don't understand! You can't be so selfish!"

"Who's being selfish here, when you were the scoundrel hiding a demon under our feet! This was all started by you, Stanford! And you never told me the truth!" You covered your face for a moment, sighing faintly. "You let him take your body and walk around the house; you kept me ignorant of your true plans while to him you built a shrine."

"How did you..."

"He told me," you interrupted him coldly, "as usual. Because of course I have to find out what's going on in my own house from a demon. Same demon who, by the way, got into our room to try to molest me!"

"You could have told me that in the first place! Things don't magically escalate."

"Excuse me? What are you trying to tell me?"

His silence confirmed the shame that had overwhelmed him by his own words.

"I'm talking to you, Ford."

"You should have told me. You allowed him direct entry."

"I don't think I gave him that much power," you shook your head. "Not like you gave it to him, Ford, with your portals and your 'insignificant' studies."

"I didn't mean to."

"And you think it was my intention to have him on top of me?"

"For God's sake—this is not about you!"

"It's never about me! Nothing is ever about me, your very wife, Ford!" You held back the heart-rending cry in your throat, until the other words snatched it from you. "I could have been raped that night and you didn't care! That thing has kissed me, touched me while in your body, and what affects you most is losing your portal! Please, Stanford, please, I beg you to understand!"

You stretched out your arms in a desperate attempt to cling to your husband's shirt. You knew where he was when you brushed against his body; there your hands rested, fingers digging like daggers into his arms. Your voice was barely a whisper corrupted by pain and despair.

"I gave up everything for you," you continued, "even my hobbies, my friends and my family. I believed in you like no one ever has; I sacrificed time, sweat and tears on your journey to glory... All for you. Always for you. When will there be something for me? When will I have a family of my own? When will I have a nice home? When will I feel safe?" you weighed a couple of raw ideas at the back of your mind. "When will I feel safe with you, Ford. You're supposed to be my husband..." you sobbed.

"I need you to understand," he whispered back. "Please, honey. I need you to."

"I'm tired of understanding things I don't know," you shook your head, possessed by crying. "You let that thing into this house. You gave your body, your mind... your wife."

"I would never allow him to lay a hand on you!"

"He's done it already!" you shouted back. "He's already done as much damage as you have, Ford! You're just like that! Unsatisfied, cruel creatures; eager to carry more than your arms can carry. He may be able to make it. Not you, Ford. And that's your problem—yourself. You're selfish, self-centered..."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"... and I begin to believe that I have been a victim of that victorious perversity that consumes you when you get something that others want and can't. But you could! And now you want more! More of what you shouldn't, of that which you can't have."

"I can have it! I'm capable! You know it; you've heard me achieve it."

"Thanks to him. And everything has a price in life, Stanford. Who says I'm not that now?"

The laughter that your husband dismissed hurt your soul.

"It's not that simple. He couldn't want you for... I don't understand. Why would he want you for something like this? I don't get it. Why would he want you in exchange for something like this? What do you figure here, but a sack of meat like me?"

"I don't know, you tell me," you shrugged. "Why do you want me, Ford? What do you think I possess, beyond a hole for you to fuck when you're stressed? Do you consider me to have value? Maybe you think I'm a stupid bitch—"

"Don't talk about yourself like that!" he interrupted you, sounding hurt. "One thing has nothing to do with the other here, right now."

"I think it has a lot to do with when your pride outweighs your wife's honor and safety. Does that title do any good? Perhaps the term 'maid' paints a better picture, considering how much you hold me in high regard as a person."

"Stop it."

"And that's all you have to say."

Life feels empty when your marriage suddenly seems like a sham.

You no longer consider Ford a company that provides you with security; now you are truly on your own.

The world is scary.

And this is where he comes to save the day.

More or less, let's assume.

Bill takes this opportunity to start filling your head with hallucinations. You can't escape them.

Your husband is a nightmare that whispers lies in your ear, which later become truths the more you think about them.

Cipher doesn't show up in your dreams until months later, when your husband is at his worst peak of stress and paranoid episodes.

The demon is much more kind, caring and receptive to you than ever before; even manipulating your brain to reproduce his figure in your mind.

At last you meet Mr. Cipher.

"But look who it is! The protagonist of this beautiful story of bloody, forbidden visceral romance from...! Oh, forget it. The title is too long."

The triangle levitates around you with its golden glow. Its edges are sharp; it has only one eye, and it wears a galley and a staff that seems to have a life of its own, far away from you, circling in the air. It is black, just like the galley and the slender limbs of the beast.

The laughter is as loud as ever. For a moment it brings you peace. It's the same—nothing has changed nor is a lie. It's just Bill.

"That's me! Yes, ma'am." Its figure reappears in front of you, with one of its small hands resting on your cheek. "My pronouns are call/me/Bill; but I also go by he/him."

"Are you reading my mind?"

"Oh, you little bag of muscle and nerves! We're in your mind," he laughed. "By the way, you should be nicer to me."

"I don't have to be nice to you," you replied. "You've ruined my life."

"Ruin your life, you say! Oh, no, my dear, but I haven't done anything!" His hand moved away from you, returning to his back as he entwined it with the other. His eye narrowed for a moment; he was fascinated. "But didn't you mean, rather, your husband's life? Isn't it the same as yours?"

"Is that, you suppose, a comment to hurt me?"

"Hurting you is one of my last thoughts when I think of you," he said. "And believe me: I think about you a lot."

"I don't want to know what kind of things."

"And you do very well not to want to!"

Another shrill laugh pierced your ears like a needle. The sound settled painfully in your brain.

"Oh, my dear! So beautiful and so pitifully silly," he sighed. "How I've missed you."

"I find it rather disturbing the way you address me. Especially after the accident..."

"That night!" he interrupted you; so fascinated that his yellow color darkened into a kind of still luminous blush. "Perhaps I was a little thrilled by the tenderness of your flesh—how your heart throbbed! An organ pumping warm blood, under that weak skin."

The triangle was suddenly in front of you. His eye wide open.

"The way your muscles tensed in your face," he continued, "with each eye wide open, as if you could just see me. No need to when you can feel me, little one. And how did that feel? How did you feel under the rough warmth of hands on the smooth skin of your belly?"

"While you were using my husband!" you cried out in shame. "You forced yourself on me with my husband's body. You are a..."

You bit your lip, holding back the string of insults that were about to hang from your mouth. Bill narrowed his eye, humming an unfamiliar tune.

"I'm a... what? Say it, come on!"

"Just shut up," you growled. "Shut your mouth—whatever you use to talk. Shut it."

"A little bird told me something very interesting. I'm sure you want to know! I know you do!"

You covered your face, using your hands to stifle a frustrated scream that could barely overshadow Bill's animated narration. His voice was penetrating your head, which was funny to think about considering the two of you were in your mind; there was no way his voice wasn't getting through to you being in a place like this. There was no escape possible.

"Oh! Yes, that's right," he pointed out with his cane. "You can't wake up until I decide."

"That's crazy!"

"I guess... Whatever! You want to play a game of chess for which you might lose something very valuable to you when I cheat?"

"Of course not!" You rubbed both hands together, trying to stop the trembling all over your body. "Ford will notice I'm not in the kitchen; I always make breakfast. He'll notice, won't he?"

"Dear, are you asking me or are you losing your senses?"

"Isn't it the same?" you turned to look at him, narrowing your eyes. "Wondering something to you, losing my mind—isn't it the same thing?"

Bill rolled his eye, dropping his cane in the air again. "What a mood! Too many gentlemen on this world for so few ladies—"

"What do you want?" you interrupted him. There was no answer. You took a deep breath as you met his gaze upon you; too much intensity, with his figure levitating slower and slower. "Bill, please, is there something you want? Because I can't give it to you. You should talk it over with Ford, like always" you muttered.

"Something I want," he repeated. "Maybe I wasn't very clear with you. In the olden days new romantic prospects used to murder the current spouse. You want that? So freaky, grr—"

"What the fuck are you talking about! My God," you swallowed the string of insults hanging from your throat. "Cipher, let me go right now. Go and talk to my husband and do together whatever it is you have in mind. Leave me alone!"

"I tried to talk to Fordsy about you," rushed the demon defensively, "but I don't think he liked certain details... My bad, I admit it! There are always second chances—although with him we'd be going for number three hundred and twenty something, I think... I don't know, I don't care! Hey, you really don't want to play chess with me?"

"You told him about that night," you whispered. Tears began to tickle your cheeks without your noticing them. "You told him first and he never... Ford never told me—he never told me about it..."

"And then he made you feel terrible about it," he laughed. "How crazy is Fordsy. And what's with all that pushing and shoving this last week? Didn't you see it coming? Ha! Get it? Because you're totally blind—"

"I can't wail and cry if I hear your shitty voice."

"Oh, come on! It's not my fault your husband is a deranged madman. There are lots of fish in the ocean, did you know that? Lots and lots... Lots, really... Then there's me, who's better," he pointed to himself, shrinking his eye in a smile. "I mean, uh, a god, technically."

"A demon."

"Very soon a god," he corrected you.

You frowned, forcing a smile as you said, "But you're still a demon. One trapped far away from our world, aren't you? What assures you that you're going to be anything more than that, when Stanford no longer believes in you?"

"The last thing I care about is your husband," Bill narrowed his eye. "Beyond that, could it be that you're testing me?"

"Testing you?"

"If I can get out of here, if I can catch you anywhere, anytime," he continued, "does that mean I win?"

"For you everything is a game. A demon at the end of the day."

Bill's shrill laughter pierced your ears again. This time you found him in front of you in the blink of an eye; closer, more attentive.

"Does that mean I win?" he whispered. "Because I believe I can have you whenever I want, wherever I want—this is just a taste of my power."

"This is a sign of what a monster you are," you replied in kind. "Ford will not allow you to go beyond your dimension—"

"Fordsy couldn't stop me all those times I messed with you," the demon interrupted you, suddenly surly at the mention of your husband. "It's almost like he doesn't care. Anyway, that brainiac is going to fail sooner or later, and there's no corner of the universe where you can hide your head. I'll be there, in your dreams; and I'll be here, where you don't see me. Everywhere I'm going to be, dear little flesh bag."

"Don't fucking call me that!"

"Nuh-uh!"

You opened your mouth, ready to pour over his expectant eye a couple more insults, but the lack of your own voice led you to wrap both hands around your neck. You thought you were piercing flesh with your fingernails; you caressed muscle, you smeared yourself with blood. You wanted to scream, terrified, alone in the middle of an empty, dark space, but the only response to the nervous silence of your panic attack was another thunderous laugh.

Everything was suddenly red. Red and painful. A sharp stab of pain shot through your body from your throat, and with a shocking jolt you fell to your knees, drowning in your own blood. Warm, viscous, thick. You closed your eyes, too disgusted with the spectacle of intense sensations assaulting your senses, and let yourself be carried away by the spasms that seemed to go on forever. You barely felt him on you.

When you opened your eyes, overcome by another intense, hot sensation, you found Bill leaning over you. His yellow color had migrated to a deep black; red edges like your blood, glowing, and with the same wide-open, watchful eye. You noted with another kind of horror that same morbid charm in his gaze—the ravenous hunger of a natural hunter.

You shook your head, barely moving your lips in a faint 'please'.

"I missed this," he said. "I missed you. It's strange... this feeling, I mean—it's kind of weird. It's unpleasant. But when I finally have you again, when I can touch you, I can see you, I can hear you, that awful feeling goes away; it disappears and I feel good again. I feel better. It's strange, like I told you."

One of his limbs brushed against the bleeding wound on your neck. The nightmare was compounded by the pressure of his fingers playing with your flesh.

"You're beautiful," he whispered. "If you could see yourself. I don't think you'd understand. It would be fun, anyway. See you cry, make you scream," he laughed. "You know, the usual. Stanford makes you cry a lot, doesn't he? He hurts you."

It took you a while to respond, but you were able to give him a nod.

"Everything he does is a product of my own genius," Bill continued. "I'm better. A hell of a lot better. This is just beginning; there's more to this than I've shown you now. A lot more. But that's all right! We have all the time in the world. Lots of nights, lots of dreams. Opportunities, my pretty little bag of nerves."

His limb moved away from your wound, wrenching another spasm from your body. You couldn't take your eyes off the way the demon was spewing a long, slimy tongue from the strip below his eye, starting from the socket. Another repulsive limb. The flesh of your body disappeared in what was a light taste of your own flavor. You noticed the fascination in his small figure; the tremor of ecstasy bursting the moment.

"Fordsy would be delighted to know this," Bill said, squinting his eye. "You think we should tell him?"

'We?' Your own mind gave you away.

"I'm asking for your opinion! That's what couples do, right?"

Silence. Bill let out a sigh; his yellow color back with a particular glow.

"Whatever," he shrugged, "I don't think he'll mind. This may be our little secret." He approached you, levitating gently. "As for you, beautiful little waste, I hope to see you in a better mood soon. There's so much to do! So many things to talk about. Our plans ahead, of course—the big moment. What a thrill!"

Your eyes began to close. The pain gradually, gently subsided. It was getting harder and harder to hear Bill chattering.

"... portal, and the... But maybe a crazy... you and me, of..."

Before you faced the impending total darkness, Bill's intense gaze invaded your mind. This time you stopped listening to him. In spite of that, a new sharp pang of pain pierced your head; it upset you completely, as one who feels disarmed at the discomfort of their own body, and made you wake up again. This time there was no yellow demon in front of you. There was nothing, directly. Not that nothing of one whose eyes are covered—but that kind of empty expectation, typical of the blind.

'Returned home,' you thought with a sigh.

The morning was quiet, but not calm. Bill's nightmare had left you jittery, with tremors and a nagging itch in your neck. A sick kind of paranoia kept you standing between the bedroom and the bathroom, unable to go any further. It was the murmur of timid footsteps downstairs that made you make the decision: tell Ford, give him the chance again. Who else did you have in the world but him?

You walked down the stairs with the itch in your neck increasing as your husband's silence to your calls did. At a certain point, and with madness tearing tears from your eyes, you ended up tripping over an obstacle on the floor where you thought the living room was. You rested your hands as soon as you felt the blow of the air like a whip; the pain came seconds later, along with the roughness of a jacket.

Ford did not wear such jackets.

You pushed your fingers against the leather, dragging your nails along the inner fur. You felt the coolness of some pins, and maybe found a couple of holes.

"Ford?"

"He's not here."

A man's broken voice took you by surprise. You jumped up, fell back down, and began to crawl backwards across the floor. You forgot about the pain and itching in your neck.

"Who are you?! What did you do to my husband—"

"Just... just a moment! Please!" The voice broke even more, as if choked with an inevitable cry. "You said husband—you must be her, I mean, his girl. His wife. Logically, isn't it?" an unfunny laugh broke through his words. "Please, I'm not here to do anything bad..."

"Who the fuck are you?!"

Silence. A long one, interrupted by a couple of accelerated breaths.

"Stanley," the man replied. "I'm Stanley Pines. I'm Stanford's brother."

"He doesn't... No, because he doesn't have a brother. You are lying to me—"

"Are you blind?"

This time the silence came from you.

"I didn't think... Sorry, I didn't get a good look at you," he rushed back. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

"Stanley Pines," you said, "is that really your name? Stanford never told me about you." You craned your neck, gathering as much air as you could. "Stanf—"

"He's not here."

"What do you mean? Did he go out or something? Again," you sighed.

Silences were commonplace at this point. You had time to stand up with the help of the supposed Stanley. You let him guide you to an armchair, allowing him as much freedom as a tired woman could allow a man this robust. You tried not to let fear blind your senses.

If he was inside the house, it meant he hadn't set off any traps. Was he telling the truth?

"Did Ford tell you where he went?" you insisted in the absence of an answer. "Do you know when he'll be back?"

"I don't think he..." a heavy, shaky sigh. "Sorry, but I think Stanford—I don't think he can come, today, at least..."

"What do you mean?"

But you didn't need a clear answer. Stanley was still talking, saying things very unimportant to you; and yet there was something special that leapt into your mind along with the memory of a thunderous laugh. The word 'portal' throbbed in rhythm with your heart, leaving in its wake a trail of horror from which a couple of tears were born. Only then did you return to the world—along with Stanley's hand caressing your back.

"I'm really sorry," he continued in a soft cry. "I didn't mean to, I swear..."

"Through the portal?"

"It was too fast, and... and then we pushed each other a lot, and there was screaming—"

"Then I guess he's not coming back," you sighed shakily, interrupting him. "Ford's not coming back. My God..."

"I'm going to fix that thing. You have my word."

The image of Bill in your dreams quickly jumped into your memories. You reached desperately for Stan's hands, taking them in yours. You stared into the void, hoping to behold his face of -possible- intrigue.

"You can't touch that thing!" you exclaimed in warning. "Stanley, you can't go near that portal, please. You have no idea what's in store for us on the other side."

"My brother is trapped in there! God, woman, your own husband!"

"This is beyond him right now!"

His hands released yours; a push let you know that he had risen from your side.

"You're crazy," he growled. "As crazy as he is. Just a crazy couple!"

"You have no idea what this is, Stanley Pines... You have no idea. You haven't the faintest idea. Am I crazy? Do you think I've lost my mind? I think you saw Ford very well; I'd like to think there's something of him in you—that you understand why I'm this way. Whose fault is it!"

"Your husband could be dead and you just go around attributing blame!"

"Our lives are at stake! Good Lord, Stanley, you have no idea what it was like to live with him!"

The image of Bill wouldn't leave your head. At this point you didn't know if you were thinking of Ford, or the triangular demon.

"I'm going to fix that fucking machine," Stanley spat angrily, "and I'm not going to let some crazy woman stop me over a couple of superstitions. I've had enough of that with Stanford. I want my brother back, and I'm going to get him. Whatever it takes."

You heard his footsteps walk away from the room, and seconds later a slamming door vibrated through your bare feet. Until then you hadn't felt the cold seeping into your sensitive flesh. Nothing seemed to matter enough to you.

It wasn't about Ford anymore; now you had to deal with the nervous insanity of his so-called brother. Could it get even worse?

Maybe.

[b14augrana]

Nervous

You find yourself sitting next to Lucy on the team bus during the ride to your first match after an interesting first impression

Lucy Bronze x teen!reader

pt. 1 masterlist

Warnings: teen reader so no smut and also not proofread xx

A/N: this was requested!! sorry it took ages for me to write this second part, it’s been a hard week for barça fans 🫤. bear with me guys but this is kinda short 🤦‍♀️!! i’m making up for it with a part 2 of my ona fic if anyone cares heh… 😅

Meditating. The only way you could possibly shake off the nerves of your first game... if that was even possible. What was a big deal to most players was an even bigger deal for you. Not because it was a special match of any sort, but because you felt like you had something to prove, y'know, being 17 and all. Being young, underestimated, and in some eyes, unreliable.

That all led you to sitting cross-legged on your bed, meditating and almost losing your breath completely trying to hold it and calm yourself down. You couldn't tell if it was actually calming you down or just getting you closer to losing consciousness, so you stopped shortly after.

The team bonding sleepover you had with your new teammates had flown by, and before you knew it, it was 6 something in the morning and you were calling a taxi to take you back to La Masia, your bags slung on your arms and weighing your already tired body down. That was a couple days ago, and now you weren't as groggy and you had retrieved the t-shirt you left at Aitana's house.

You liked it though. You got to know the girls and you definitely bonded. You just could not stop thinking about Lucy.

She was cocky, and she was attractive — that was probably the worst combination. What made it even worse was that she knew she was attractive.

It wasn't just the way she talked, but the way she sat with her legs spread and her arms splayed along the couch, the way the muscles in her forearm slightly flexed with every slight movement, the way she smiled. The way she was very, very well aware of the effect her actions had on you.

"Muchaha, vamos!" said a voice from the hall of the dormitories which you could only recognise as Ona. She peered around your door frame, rolling her eyes. "Are you gonna move or keep sitting there? We've got a bus to get on!"

"Shit, I forgot about that. Lo siento," you replied, snatching up your gear and almost tripping on your way out. You stumbled down the hallway and down the stairs, exiting the academy complex to be faced with the huge team bus. It was staggering to realise how big it actually was, and you were glued to the spot in shock for a moment before a firm tug on your wrist snapped you out of your trance and dragged you onto the bus.

At first glance, it looked like there weren't any seats at all. "Where are you gonna–" you started, but then you were cut off. "Looks like someone saved you a seat, Ona remarked.

You looked at her, your eyebrows knitted in confusion, and they tightened when she dashed to the back of the bus and slumped next to Aitana. You threw your hands up and shook your head in further confusion.

She pointed to the only other vacant seat, and their simultaneously mischievous winks didn't make sense until you looked over to where they were pointing.

Lucy was looking at you with a smirk, and beside her was an empty seat. Your eyes widened as you glared at Aitana and Ona, pleading and begging with your eyes for them not to make you sit next to her. They had obviously picked up on your behaviour around Lucy, because they pretended not to notice you, leaving you with no other option but to sit next to Lucy. Her smirk was far from welcoming, and it actually irritated you as you threw your bag into the overhead luggage compartment and sat down, crossing your arms.

"What's wrong, (Y/N)? Did I do something?" she jeered, whispering in your ear. "Cut it out, Lucy," you snapped back.

"Hey, this isn't my fault. You're the one that's all frustrated for no reason about sitting next to me when I’ve done nothing," she replied, laughing at your behaviour.

"You’re too pretty to be scowling like that. Gives you wrinkles," Lucy continued, looking over at you with that same smirk that you just wanted to slap off her face. That same smirk that drove you crazy in more ways than just one. You couldn’t tell if it was just her personality, or if she deliberately did these things to get under your skin. Either way, that’s what was happening.

"Whatever. Thanks, I guess," you mumbled, not being able to help the warmth in your cheeks. You knew it was wrong, because you were 17, she was God knows how old, but you couldn't help whatever it was that made you want her despite wanting to hate her so badly. It was a contradiction you couldn't escape, one that would seem to trouble you until you were 18.

It was irritating to be so bothered and nervous by the woman beside you who could do nothing and still make your breath hitch. Ona and Aitana were probably having a field day in the back of the bus as they watched you struggle, knowing exactly why you were behaving the way you were; because you were attracted to the Englishwoman. You knew it came with being a teenager, but having desires about a certain someone was the last thing you needed on this day specifically, let alone every other day that you’d have to spend with her because it was inevitable.

“¡Mírala! Obviously she likes it,” Aitana whispered to the other Spaniard on her left.

Ona snorted and replied in a hushed voice, “Ni siquiera es mucho más joven, pero aún así sería ilegal. ¡No queremos que Lucy vaya a la cárcel!”

They tried to stifle their laughs as they watched you sneak not-so-discreet glances at the woman beside you. Their attempt was successful for the most part, because you and Lucy didn’t hear, but Patri did, and she gave Ona and Aitana a suspicious glare.

You weren’t paying attention to them — you were too busy distracting yourself by counting down the minutes until you arrived in València… and also the days until your 18th birthday. For no specific reason.

[oceaneyesinla]

This got longer than I expected, but I thought about Kiryu taking care of you, specifically after you bruise your knuckles, and it spiralled from there.

Divider by @/cafekitsune

Imagine being Kiryu's girlfriend, and someone starts shouting insults as you walk down the street, hand in hand. Maybe it's about the way he clips his pretty pink hair back, maybe it's about the way he wears his patterned shirts and his Bofurin jacket; whatever it is, you don't like it.

Kiryu is just ignoring them - why would he care what they say, when he's got someone like you by his side? Besides, he's confident in himself; he likes his style, and one of his favourite things is deciding what to do with his hair every day, usually with your input.

You are less forgiving. This idiot is getting to you. How dare he insult your boyfriend? Someone who one, is better looking than this fucker could ever hope to be, and two, is one of the best men you've ever had the joy of meeting. He's kind, he treats you well, he takes you out for little adventures and never lets you want for anything.

You glare at the guy as you pass, and he just shoots you a cocky, self assured smirk. That's the last straw; seconds later, your fist is colliding with his cheek, and he staggers backwards a couple of steps. He clearly wasn't expecting your reaction, and once he processes it, his face warps with anger.

Before you can begin to regret your hasty decision or start planning for a trip to an emergency dentist when he's knocked your teeth in, Kiryu is putting himself between you and the asshole.

"Now, now. Unless you want me to call my friends," He waggles his phone playfully, and you can hear the smile in his voice, "I suggest you leave me and my girlfriend in peace."

He takes a step forward, and when he speaks again, you don't need to see his face to know his smile has dropped. You can see his expression in your mind's eye, and you don't need to hear his words. The guy's face drops, and moments later, he's staggering away from you both, looking over his shoulder every so often as if he expects you to follow.

Your hand is already beginning to ache, and the skin over your knuckles is reddened and broken in places. How the boys do this all the time, you'll never know. This sucks.

Kiryu slots himself into your personal space, kissing your forehead before taking your hand ever so gently in both of his, his voice a gentle coo, "Does it hurt, sweet girl? It looks sore."

You nod, bottom lip slipping out into a pout as he coddles you. He makes sympathetic noises as he softly pokes at it, murmuring apologies when you wince. Once he's satisfied with his inspection, he places a featherlight kiss to your knuckles, lips just barely brushing over the already bruising skin.

"You didn't have to do that, you know. I can handle some petty insults."

You frown, reaching up with your non-injured hand to cradle his cheek, "Yeah, but you shouldn't have to, Mitsuki. That guy was a jerk."

Kiryu is giving you that soft smile, the one that makes your heart skip a beat, though it quickly turns teasing, "Aren't I lucky then, to have such a dedicated protector? A pretty one, too."

You feel your cheeks heat up, and you try to pull your hand out of his grasp so you can pretend to be offended. No such luck; his hold on you may be gentle, but it's secure. Just like always.

"Look at me, baby." When you do, you're met with unfiltered adoration and a smile that reaches those beautiful green eyes, "Thank you for standing up for me."

You can't stay mad at that face, even if you're pretending. You press a kiss to his cheek, then to his lip, pulling away to meet his fond smile with one of your own. You would take a thousand bruised knuckles if it meant he could live his life free of the fools who would try and drag him down.

"Now come on. We need to get some ice on that hand of yours." He laces his fingers through yours and leads you down the street, and you don't regret a thing if it means he keeps smiling at you like that.

[drdemonprince]

The article regarding about annoying queer people sparked a by now long forgotten memory.

When I went to my first pride I snuck out secretly and thus was there after the parade. Most people were already some form of drunk or high(didn't know that at the time, I was 15 and naive beyond hope)

That was also the first time I saw puppies ever. In retrospect I must have stared and seemed like one of those annoying "no kink at pride" puriteens. They probably just wanted to allow themselves a small joke but what happened in praxis was, that a grown, white man in only puppy mask and boxers crawled up to me, stood up, started sniffing my breasts and when I started panicking and running away he run after me and everyone else watched and laughed. I think I screamed for help or cryed to please leave me be and was ignored but I can't remember much past the fear.

To them it was probably a small joke but to me it set me back for years. I didn't go to pride in that city ever again and took years to move past "no kink at pride" opinions, an opinion I didn't even have before that.

I felt incredibly isolated and wearing a small rainbow bracelet and cutting my hair took so much bravery. And it earned a lot of backlash too?

So often I see coloured hair and pins as this cutesy cringe thing of no consequence, but for me it resulted in hours upon of arguments and insults. It was worth it, because it helped me built my own identity apart from my families bigotry, but it sure wasn't fun or cutesy. Ultimately it led me to becoming brave enough to actually discover who I am and start making connections with the wider queer community.

Thankfully I had no social media accounts or I would have had some truly stupid arguments.

What I'm saying is, yes young queers can be annoying and it can be tiring to deal with them but being an asshole and vilifying them isn't the solution.

Making fun of teenagers doesn't make yourself more valid and doesn't give you the status of being an old experienced queer.

I'm saying teenagers here but the fun thing about queer people is that we can discover ourselves at any point in time. So it's less teenagers and more people newly discovering themselves as queer.

I get how annoying they can be very well now, doing voluntary work at pride does that.

Do many of those we consider annoying queers hold some harmful opinions? Yeah sure. (The amount of white queers, teens or adults, not dealing with systemic oppression beyond their own is staggering and they more than deserve to be called out. Just to be very clear, when I talk about annoying behaviour I do NOT mean microagressions or discrimination in any way)

But annoying behaviour is not synonymous to that and maybe we should all just start being less mean in public spaces? I get how satisfying it can be to get a hit tweet via a bitchy twitter reply now, but quite honestly I am more ashamed of that now than when I was running around in hoodies and short hair being painfully naive.

Because then I wasn't being mean to anyone. I had some stupid takes sure but no outlet. On twitter I was making fun of people to validate my own queer-ness. (Personally I think I was covering up for the fact that I was afraid the queer people I worked so hard to be part of wouldn't consider me one of their own. So I worked hard to show how I'm not one of "those queers".)

Either way, thanks for reading all this and thank you for sharing the article because it is something I strongly agree with. Just let people be annoying without making fun of them for it. It doesn't need to be a big deal.

Thank you for this wonderful, vulnerable, honest message about your slow path to self-acceptance in the face of a lot of barriers, anon. I'm glad that despite everything you've found your way.

Yeah, I think queer people have many reasons to feel terrified at the rising "no kink at pride" discourse, but sometimes when we lash out at puriteens we sound a bit like the childfree people who say that they hate kids?? Like, we're blaming literal children for an ideology of protecting "The Family" that has been foisted upon us.

I'm guilty of it. I was HAUNTED by the social pressure to get married and pregnant and raise a bunch of kids. It caused me massive dysphoria and didn't jibe with my queer identity. But I rebelled against it for far too long by saying that I hated kids.

It was not the kids' fault! It was the ideological specter of The Family as an institution that isolates and attacks all nonconformity and 'deviant' sexuality! Me being an asshole to children was not gonna set me free, kids were even more disinfranchised than I was!! I don't think I was ever overtly cruel to children, just kind of aloof and freaked out by them, but I definitely *did* say some numbskulled shit to my friends with kids a few times. Completely missing how disempowered mothers (and it was usually mothers) are in society BECAUSE of these same forces .

And I think something similar is going on here. Queer people are tired of having "Family Friendliness" shoved down our throats by corporations and conservatives, and so then we lash out... at young queer people. it's fine to have 18+ areas and events; It's very, very important to me that spaces like Furfest have them. But that's not the same thing as claiming young people have no space in our community as a whole. And I do think we need to erode the barriers between the adult and child worlds in a whole lot of ways, and reorient our attitudes toward nudity, sexuality, roleplaying, etc in public life. but that also doesn't mean a pup should run you out of a pride parade actually fucking sexually harassing you.

It feels great to be able to talk about this stuff! Thanks for your message.

[oneshotnewbie]

𝐵𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑠

𝐄𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐄𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐁𝐈'𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤.

ᕚ---ᕘ

Emily Prentiss stood at the door of the office where you always retreated to go over your ideas for a new case before presenting them to your team, her hand shaking as she hesitantly grasped the handle. The atmosphere was tense, charged with unsaid words and unspoken emotions that had been plaguing her lately.

You looked up as Emily stepped over the threshold, and her heart made a painful lurch. The love she saw in your eyes brought tears to her own, but she forced herself to stay strong and swallow them down. "Emily," you spoke quietly, your warm voice a whisper in the space of complete silence.

The black-haired woman swallowed hard and stepped closer, her arms tucked under her chest, her gaze cast downwards at the floor. The words she wanted to say were heavy as lead on her tongue. "We need to talk," she finally managed to speak, her voice breaking.

You turned from the whiteboard of the room, your eyes full of worry as you slowly walked towards her. "What's up?" You asked softly, reaching out to touch Emily's forearm. But she pulled back as if she would be burned by the touch. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I can not do this anymore."

You stared at her in disbelief, as if you didn't understand the words, and took a few steps back. "What do you mean by that?" your voice trembled with uncertainty and fear, your body began to tremble.

Emily didn't look at you, her gaze still cast to the floor, unable to look you in the eyes. "I mean our relationship," she spoke quietly, taking a deep breath as she bit her lip. "I'm sorry, but I can't do this anymore. I can't love you like you deserve."

You staggered back as if she had struck you and your back leaned against the table behind you. The tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to comprehend the words that had just left her lips. "Why?" you whispered brokenly.

She swallowed the knot in her throat and continued to force herself to stay strong even though it was tearing her up inside. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to fall into your arms and feel your warmth. But that wasn't possible anymore, she couldn't. "Because I'm not good enough for you. I don't deserve you."

You moved closer again, placing your hand on Emily's cheek, but she backed away again as if it was the most painful thing she had ever experienced. "Emily, this is ridiculous," you said, your voice shaking, not understanding what was wrong with her. Everything was fine this morning when you both woke up in the same bed. "You are more than enough. You are everything to me. More than I am to myself."

Tears were now streaming freely down her face as she saw the pain in your eyes that she never wanted to be responsible for. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, her voice also broken. "But I can't do this anymore. I can't look at you anymore without knowing that I could hurt you at any moment."

You broke down in front of her as you begged Emily to stay with you. You didn't understand what was happening at that moment. You were in a state of shock that seemed unreal, like a nightmare. "Please, Emily. Whatever you're going through that's causing you to push me away, we can get through this. We can get through this together."

But she shook her head, having already made her decision. And no one could refuse her anymore. Not even the love of her life. "No," she spoke, her voice firm and loud. "I'm sorry, but this is what's best for both of us."

With one last painful look, Emily turned and left the room without another word, her heart broken into a thousand pieces. Behind her, you were left drowning in a sea of tears, your heart shattered by the loss of the love you had hoped to last forever.

It took a while for you to regain your composure and feel emotionally stable enough to face the team and your work. You returned to the office and immediately felt the others' eyes on you. Your eyes were reddish and traces of tears could be seen on your cheeks. You tried to keep your composure, but the painful memories of the conversation with Emily made it difficult for you to think straight.

Morgan and Rossi exchanged a worried look when they saw you like that. They knew something was wrong and wanted to help you. But before they could say anything, JJ also looked up and noticed the internal battle you were engaged in. She pulled you to her desk by your upper arm as you walked past her without saying a word. "Hey, is everything okay?" She asked worriedly and you swallowed hard, feeling the emotions overwhelming you. "Emily.. she left me," you managed to say in a shaky voice that didn't fall particularly quietly from your lips.

The words hit the blonde like a blow. She didn't expect the two of you to ever break up. Gently, she forced you to sit on her desk, placing her hand sensitively on your thigh to let you know she was there. "Oh, love.. What happened?"

You sniffled and gently wiped the tears from your eyes. "She said she wasn't good enough for me and that I deserved better," you told her, your voice filled with sorrow. JJ's heart began to beat faster, unable to imagine how difficult it must be for you to be abandoned by someone you loved so much. "Baby, I'm so sorry." She spoke, squeezing your thigh, standing up to pull you into a tight hug.

Meanwhile, Morgan and Rossi had also come closer to hear what had happened and why you were crying. When they found out Emily had broken up with you, they also felt the sting of loss.

Morgan clenched his fists in anger. He couldn't believe Emily had hurt you like that. "I will kill her." He spoke and the other two of the team looked over at him, giving him a serious look before turning their attention back to you. Rossi placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his expression betraying a mixture of regret and worry. "I'm sorry you have to go through this, kiddo."

"I told my mother about her, even though she doesn't exactly like my lifestyle," you began, your voice filled with sadness, muffled by the many tears that rolled freely down your face. "I lied for her. I broke rules and ignored everyone else just for her."

Morgan rubbed your back while Rossi held you and let you cry. "I cried so hard when she died to go into hiding. I lost myself during it. I thought about her constantly. I wasn't even mad when she suddenly reappeared."

JJ pushed further forward to be closer to you and you let your feelings out. She knew that touch and closeness often weren't enough to mend a heart in moments like this, but she wanted to make you feel like you weren't alone. "I wanted everything with her. I love her so much."

All three listened attentively, Morgan even had tears in his eyes. He knew how strong the bond between Emily and you had been, and the thought of you being apart hurt him deeply and frustrated him.

ᕚ---ᕘ

Emily Prentiss sat in the passenger seat of the car, staring out the window absentmindedly. The car was otherwise empty as the other members of the team stayed in the office. Only David Rossi, the colleague with whom she drove away to pick up the suspect, was there and tapped on the steering wheel.

With a sigh, the black-haired woman finally turned her head to Rossi, biting her lip. "David, can I talk to you?" She asked quietly and the older gentleman looked over and saw his colleague's serious expression. "Of course. Shoot."

She now turned her body completely towards him and struggled for words that were burning on her tongue but she was afraid to say. "It's about y/n.." she began hesitantly and Rossi turned the radio down before looking at her carefully. Emily felt a lump forming in her throat as she took a deep breath. "I broke up with her, David."

He frowned and raised an eyebrow. He knew how much she loved you and still didn't understand why exactly she did what she did. "Y/n already told me about it, Emily. Why did you do that? You two were happy together."

Emily lowered her gaze and began to play with the ring that you had once given her as a joke and she still hadn't taken it off. "I know.. But I was afraid, David. Afraid that I wasn't good enough for her. And besides.. Relationships in the FBI, especially within the BAU, are forbidden. If Strauss had found out, we would have been in trouble. One of us would probably have been transferred to another unit."

Rossi nodded slowly as he listened to her and gently placed a hand on Emily's hands. "Emily, I understand your concerns. But love is complicated, and sometimes we have to take risks to find the happiness we deserve."

Emily fought the tears that were gathering in her eyes again and bit her lip to hold them back. "But what if I made a mistake? What if I love her more than I could ever admit? I don't give a damn if I lose the job. I just want her back."

Rossi smiled softly and squeezed her thigh tightly before looking deep into her eyes. "Sometimes we have to put our pride aside and fight for what really matters to us. She may be deeply hurt, but she still loves you. Love is precious and should not be given up lightly. Listen to your heart and get your girl back."

Emily looked at Rossi gratefully as her tears slowly rolled down her cheeks. She felt a weight lift from her shoulders. His words touched her deeply and gave her a new perspective.

"Thanks, Rossi." She said quietly before tapping her hand on his a few times as a gesture. At that moment she knew she had to make a decision. And this time she would listen to her heart and not her head.

During the mission, Emily couldn't think of anything other than apologizing to you, her body shaking as she hesitantly stood in front of the desk you were sitting at, her heart pounding heavy and loud in her chest. She had decided to finally talk to you and make things right, but she was still trying to find the right words to start the conversation.

You sat there, engrossed in your work, not noticing that anyone had approached you. “Hey,” she spoke quietly, sitting down in the chair across from you. You didn't even lift your eyes from your paper as you just replied to her coldly. "What do you want, Prentiss?"

Emily swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper, the use of her last name causing a tug in her soul. "I want to talk to you about something, y/n. About us."

You snorted disdainfully and put the pen aside before folding your hands on the table and looking at her bitterly. "There's nothing more to say. You made your decision when you broke up with me."

Emily felt the sweat spreading on her hands, she couldn't ignore the nervous twitching in her left leg that was spreading. "But that was a huge mistake. I realized that I love you more than I could ever admit. I want to grow old with you. Please, let's talk about it."

You shook your head, your eyes shining with pain. "It's too late. You broke my heart and I can't trust you not to do it again. I can't go through this again. You know my past, Emily."

Emily looked down, unable to look at you. She felt her heart shatter into a thousand pieces. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I hurt you. But I love you, y/n. I would do anything to make it up to you."

You snorted bitterly. "Sometimes love just isn't enough. You've done enough damage, I can't let you, a person I've trusted with my entire life, hurt me any more."

The words hit Emily like a slap in the face. She could hear the pain in your voice and knew there was no way to ease it. Heartbroken, she stood up. "I will fight for you, y/n. No matter what it takes." She spoke and left your seat, knowing that she had lost the only person she had ever truly loved.

The question of whether she would ever have the opportunity to regain your trust and love remained shrouded in an uncertain fog of hope and doubt, and the path to your heart seemed to be paved with insurmountable hurdles and endless pain.

[cobaltperun]

R and Tara have been friends for a long time, you could even call them best friends.

Ever since moving to new York, Tara made a habit to go to parties more and getting more shit faced.

In that state she is more handsy and flirtatious and Y/N is the person who suffers from her wrath.

I hope it's a prompt you can work with 😊

Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts

Tara Carpenter x GN Reader (Request)

Drunk Tara is flirtier than she usually is, and you, as her best friend, have to deal with it.

Masterlist

Word count: 1.1k

You couldn't believe this was happening again. What was it? Like the fifth time this month? It was eleventh! Barely a third of the month has passed and you already had to drag Tara back to her and Sam's apartment for the fifth time! At this point you might as well accept that you were Tara’s unofficial babysitter.

"You're really adorable, you know," your drunk best friend blurted out, like she usually did. "I like your eyes," she continued. "And ears," not exactly the first thing you usually heard, but she was drunk, and it wasn't the first time she was like this when drunk. In fact, she was like this every single time and it would be adorable, if she wasn’t drinking this much. "I wanna wear your shirt," she was a hundred and ten percent, way too drunk. "You're real quiet," she hiccupped for the hundredth time since you got her to leave the party with you.

"And you're drunk like a skunk," you sighed, stuck between being done with this bullshit and not wanting to let anything bad happen to Tara while she was this drunk. Who were you trying to fool? You’d take this any day if it meant making sure Tara was safe and sound.

"I'm not a slut," she slurred as you gave up on dragging her and just lifted her up on your back. It would be faster anyway, and Tara was light, and liked being carried. It made her feel like she was taller.

"Not a skank, Tara, a skunk, the animal, the stinky one," you corrected her softly.

Tara hummed. "'Kay, I don't stick either," she sounded sleepy, well, at least you hoped she'd fall asleep, and you could avoid the other... downsides of taking care of drunk Tara.

"You reek of alcohol," you still told her and she just leaned her head on your shoulder and mumbled something unintelligible, though she did hug you tightly.

With a sigh you reached her building and began the daunting task of climbing up the stairs to her apartment. Sam was upstairs, being pacified by Mindy and Chad while you took it upon yourself to bring Tara back. Because, for some reason, she tended to listen to you, maybe it was because you've been best friends for years now.

You felt like your soul would evacuate from your exhausted body as you reached the apartment doors and leaned your forehead against the bell, too tired to do it properly.

"Damn it, Y/N, you don't have to push the bell into the wall!" Mindy exclaimed as she swung the door open, but you just grumbled and staggered toward Tara's bedroom.

From the corner of your half-closed eyes you saw Sam, her face a mixture of worry, relief and righteous fury. And you had no strength for what she was likely planning. "Scold her when she wakes up, Sam, I wanna get her to bed and crash on your couch," you had a long day, you just wanted to take care of Tara and go to sleep.

Sam probably gave up only because Tara was sleeping on your back.

You opened the doors to Tara's room and went inside. Luckily, Chad turned the lights on for you and closed the doors.

"Tara," you tried to wake her up as you just barely managed to get her on her bed and start taking her shoes off. "T," you tried again. "The Captain Dook Baba," you sighed and she sat up like she was a vampire rising from the grave, or Wednesday fucking Addams or something.

"It's The Babadook," she corrected you and you just shrugged.

"Great, whatever, just get changed," you sighed, dropping down on her bed just for a moment, just one minute for your legs to recover from all those stairs.

"You want to watch me change?" she teased you, cackling drunkenly as she turned onto her side and began brushing her hand along your arm.

"Tara," you groaned, not really in the mood to handle her drunken flirting and touching. Though her touch did feel kinda nice, it definitely always relaxed you. She was your best friend, but, well, you were in love with her, but you never did anything to show it, fearing you'd ruin your friendship. And when she flirted with you while she was this drunk you kept turning her down, because she never showed interest when she was sober, so you didn't want her to do anything she'd regret.

"It's okay if you do," she leaned in, whispering close to your ear and you just buried your face in the blanket.

"Fuck, how do others deal with you when you're this drunk?" you complained, not even wanting to imagine how the twins dealt with her. Well, Chad probably gets flustered, and Mindy probably just shuts Tara down right away

"Hmm, only with you," she somehow managed to get up and you heard her taking her clothes off.

"Wha?" you mistakenly turned your head just when she took her shirt off and quickly turned away. You felt like your cheeks were burning and you just caught a glimpse of her, and your heart was hammering in your chest, partly because of the implications of her words. Only with you? What exactly did she mean by that?!

"I only act like this with you, cause I really, really like you, Y/N," she sounded a bit less drunk as she said that, and your heart skipped a beat, but you couldn't dare to hope, you just sighed and waited until she changed and got into her bed again.

Only then did you get up. "Damn it, Tara, why can't you just say that when you're sober," you sighed, believing her to be asleep. She was always quick to fall asleep when she was this drunk.

"'Cause you keep rejecting me when I'm drunk and I don't wanna get rejected when I'm sober," she mumbled and you looked back at her, surprised.

You stared at her, somehow her eyes looked much clearer, though it was probably a temporary thing. You still leaned closer to her and pushed a strand of her hair out of her face. "Tell me again when you're sober, or don't, I might flirt first for once," you told her with a bit of a grin on your face and she nodded sleepily, a drunk, but happy smile, appeared on her face as she got more comfortable on her bed.

A/N: Well, Anon, I hope you like this, I took some liberties with the request, as you can see, so I hope you don't mind.

[ilovechuuy4]

if you are not taking requests at the moment please ignore this (aside from how much I adore your writing and how I need it in my veins)

if you're taking requests, then could I request Chuuya and Dazai (separately and with a gn! reader) when they cheat on the reader and how they get back together? angst to fluff. my heart could never handle your angst, your writing is too good and it would genuinely wound me in ways I would never recover from.

love you :)

I Told My Friends I Hate You, but I Love You Just the Same✯*٭˙∘

Chuuya/Dazai x Gn!Reader (seperate)

Warnings; Thick tension / Angst

Description; They cheat but then want to get back together with you.

A/N; HAI SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I FEEL SO BAD BUT I HAVENT HAD MUCH MOTIVATION TO WRITE ANYTHING. PONDERING SO MUCH RN. SORRY FOR THE RANDOM FANFIC DISAPPEARANCE AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!!

🐟Dazai ೃ⁀➷

⋆·˚ He intentionally cheated on you, the night you caught him with another person in the bed y'all shared TOGETHER.

It was a late night when you arrived 'home' or the place you thought was home. You shuffled inside the eerily quiet apartment, but something was off, usually your boyfriend was home waiting for you on the couch but today wasn't the same as you heard distant moaning from your bedroom. You skittered to the bedroom, swinging open the door a loud thud and then a recoil of the door. Your eyes widening at the sight of Dazai in bed with another. 'Why?' is all you said you couldn't find any other words to say as tears pierced your eyes and trickled down your face that was already a red hue from frustration.

The brunette couldn't even say a word before you stormed out the entire complex. Running down the empty streets of Yokohama tears streaming down your reddened face. You weren't sure where to go other than Yosano's house it was your best bet. When you arrive, you were already heavily breathing as you rang the doorbell. It was already pretty late so you weren't sure if she was up or not but to your luck, she was. As she opened the door, her eyes snapped open at your tear-streaked face.

"Oh Y/N what happened.?" She asked, gently pulling you into the house and closing the door. She wrapped you in a gentle hug, her hand rubbing your back as she listened to you explain what exactly happened. Yosano was astonished, it was obvious Dazai would do a thing like that cause he's well, dazai. But in the bed y'all shared together is an entirely different step. 'Cmon lets just go get you some change of clothes and get you to bed." Yosano says as she guides you to her bedroom.

Once you had taken a shower and borrowed some of Yosano's clothes, the two of you rest on the couch for the remainder of the night watching different dramas, romances, actions etc. When you woke up in the morning, your phone had multiple of missed calls and messages from Dazai himself. You read through some of the messages; “Im sorry” “Hey, please answer me.” “Baby, please.” They were all simple messages but as you read further down, they got more urgent and desperate even. “Hey i know you’re getting the calls, answer me.” “Please im SO sorry, Y/N, please text me.” and so on. You bite your lip as you read through the messages you felt worried, if that was the right way to put it. You let out a staggered breath as you sought up the courage to call your boyfriend.

As you sit there on the soft sofa, listening the rings echoing in your ear, you eventually here the soft ‘click’ of the call being answered and on the other line, an urgent and distressed tone. “Babe? Hey where are you?! You didn’t answer any of my calls or messages! What happened!” His breathing was loud as you heard the shaky breathes, he let out. “Fuck, i know i messed up and im sorry. That thing i done, i know it was fucked up and im sorry! Please forgive me it won't happen again!” He explained through the phone, on his side he was biting his nails.

You hadn’t heard him this distressed since missions he had for the agency. “Dazai, calm down.” You mutter through the phone, you didnt know what to say there really wasnt much. “I just need you to calm down. Im fine, just meet me at Yosano’s house i guess.” You said fidgeting with the strings of the shorts. You couldn't lie to yourself, you missed him. Maybe it was hard to forgive what he did but you really did miss him.

Rubbing your temples, you slowly stand up going to the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water. You sip on it slowly, waiting for your boyfriend to arrive. Thirty minutes go by before you hear knocking on the door. You sit up from where you were leaning against the counter before you slowly shuffle your way to the front door, Yosano wasn't home, she had left a note that said she went out and she'll be back later.

You knew that it was Dazai, not only because he told you he'd be there soon but the urgent knocking on the door. You opened the steel door, the hinges creaking. You stare at the taller figure, his eyes seemed to be "shaking" as he stared at you before hugging you tightly. You could feel his body trembling against your own, you couldn't fully forgive him for what he did, you knew it would take time and he knew that too.

You let out a staggered breath before resting your head on dazai, forehead pressed firmly against his shoulder. You could feel the brunette slowly massaging your hips, the other cupping the nape of your neck. "I'm sorry." You heard him say beneath his breath, you knew he wasn't all too big on apologies so for now this was okay. The hug meant a lot to you.

"It's alright, you already know I can't forgive you though. We can work around all the flaws, nobody is prefect." You tell him, but deep down you knew you'd slowly end up forgiving him, you loved him, you always would. You felt him gently grip your chin, pulling it to make you look at him.

"I mean it. I'm sorry. I'll never do it again, I truely do love you." The bandaged man spoke, he was sincere, you knew he was. The way he looked deeply into your eyes, forehead pressed against your own as leaned in to slowly kiss you, lips colliding in a tender kiss. "I love you, I dont want anything changing that." He managed to mutter out, slowly pulling away with a smile, tears pooling in his eyes, things were going to be okay.

🍷Chuuyaೃ⁀➷

⋆·˚ You misinterpreted EVERYTHING. the thing you saw wasn't the story behind any of it, he didnt enjoy seeing you like that.

You, the pretty joyful person that was going out with a "scary" port mafia executive? Maybe opposites really DO attract. But that didn't seem to be how things work out today. You wanted to surprise him, bringing him some lunch and a new wine you found, you had everything planned for a nice lunch date. You had taken time out of your day to refrigerate the wine so it was still cold when arrived, to go get food not gourmet or anything but food nonetheless.

Did that mean nothing to Chuuya? The love and affection? The time you spent doing everything to make him the happiest man alive, it meant nothing? When you had arrived in the corridor to Chuuya's office, there he stood with another, that same person kissing the man you love. Chuuya's eyes we're wide, he didn't see you but they we're wide but you didn't care about that, you cared that he didn't automatically push her away.

You could feel the paper bag with the wine inside slip from your hand, shattering on the ground with a loud crash. It echoed through your own ears and the ears of others that were nearby. You watch as Chuuya snaps back to reality, his mind and body know fully processing that his colleague kiss him, in front of you. He heard the loud shatter of the glass, his head snapping over to wear you stood, tears flowing down your face that was erased from any other emotion other than sadness.

You feel yourself stumble back before sprinting out the large building, not even giving yourself a chance to rethink your decisions. Tears kept pouring down your face they wouldn't stop, no way. He wouldn't actually cheat, right? The image only rolled through your head like a record on repeat. You could hear heavy steps chasing behind, laboring breathes as there was deep, staggering, almost terrified yells of your name.

"Y/N!! Just give me a damn minute to explain!" Chuuya yells, his voice trembling with every word. He didn't want to use his ability in this type of situation, he didn't want it to seem like he ruled over you cause of an ability he wasn't even born with but that wasn't the point. He kept sprinting right behind you, no matter how hard it was to breath, he just needed you to stop.

You didn't want to turn back, you couldn't. He couldn't see you like this. Broken, if you'd have to describe it yourself. You just ran. Ran and ran and ran until you were unable to anymore. You were letting out deep gasps of air as you could quite literally feel Chuuya staring into your back. "Darlin' would you just give me a chance to explain what happened?" The ginger spoke, gently sitting down on the ground next to your out of breath form.

You didn't have the energy to argue back as you just give him a small nod. Chuuya pulls you close, letting your head rest on his shoulder. "You know I didn't cheat right? It was a big 'ol misunderstanding, I didn't kiss my colleague I wouldn't ever do that to you in a life time." Chuuya told you, he was sincere when he told you this as he reached down, interlocking the both of yall's fingers together.

You glance at him worrily, you wanted to trust him you really did but there were so many questions. "Then why didn't you automatically push her away?" You ask, your breathing now back to normal as you trace your thumb on the lines in chuuya's hand. "I wasn't expecting anyone to kiss me, it took me a moment to process anything. Im sorry darlin', how can I make this big ordeal up to you?" The blue eyed male asked you, glancing over at you with eyes that begged for all your forgiveness.

You had a blank stare on your face for a moment as Chuuya was practically begging for your forgiveness with his piercing blue eyes. You exhale with a soft smile, you couldn't stay mad at him even if you wanted. "Just a kiss then." You answered, it was always an "apology" Chuuya enjoyed even if he always asked multiple times more if there was "anything else you needed" cause a simple kiss didn't seem like a good apology.

Chuuya let out a soft huff, he knew it! He knew you were going to say a kiss, he had a love, hate relationship with this sort of an apology, but he leaned in and kissed you anyways. It was slow and tender and full of silent love that sometimes neither of you shown. You let out a content hum as y'all kiss before pulling away, this was enough for now you knew that you'd pester him later though. It was a silly misunderstanding on your end and you're up to admit it too.

"I'm sorry again, doll. It won't happen again. Hell of you want I'll try to dress unattractive?" Chuuya teased, his hand running up your thigh as the two of you sit on the curb of the side walk. "How could you, of all people, dress unattracively?" You ask, letting out a soft laugh under your breath. "Well I'm not sure, sweetheart. But I could sure try for you."