#if anything she would throw herself more into her work to try and fill out the void sonic left

[bueckets]

The Hit List | 02.5

Pairing: fuckgirl!Paige x Mechi Student!reader

Masterlist (TBA) | Part One | Part Two (READ BEFORE 2.5)

Genre: romance, slow burn, enemies to lovers, kinda funny?, they fuck, n its hot n sweaty, cat n mouse

Description: What starts as a game of avoidance turns into something far more dangerous when old grudges and unfinished business crash headfirst into a truth neither of them are ready to face. Armed with a stubborn streak, a boyfriend you're trying too hard to believe in, and a simmering resentment that burns just as hot as desire, you swear you won’t let Paige win.

But when history keeps rewriting itself in glances, in touches, in words that cut too close—you start to wonder if you've had control of the game at all.

wc: 24k, yes, 24k

Authors Note: sorry this took forever, too many words so this is split into two parts (THIS IS part 2 chap 2)

Three Weeks Later

Midterms came and went, dragging you through hell and back. The sleepless nights, the cramming, the fucking Systems Engineering project that nearly made you throw your laptop out a window. It’s over. You survived.

And somewhere in between all of it—Paige Bueckers became just a name again.

Not a person. Not a presence. Not someone orbiting your every waking moment.

Just a name you see online.

A headline when UConn wins another game.

A clip someone reposts on Twitter, her pulling up from three like it’s muscle memory, making it look so goddamn easy.

Her life moves forward at full speed.

The season’s in full swing, meaning the team’s constantly gone—traveling for games, disappearing for days at a time, too busy to be anything but motion.

It’s weird.

Because after that night—after the fucking laundry room, after the way she felt against you, the way her breath tangled with yours—you thought she’d stick. Thought the weight of her would still be there, pressing into your ribs, twisting your stomach every time you caught a glimpse of her across campus. But she’s gone.

Not in the literal sense. You still hear her name, see her in passing, watch her run drills on the court like she owns it. But she’s not here. Not in the way that matters. She’s everywhere else—on screens, in headlines, living a life that no longer overlaps with yours.

And you hate that the only way you see her now is through a fucking phone. A video of her laughing on the sideline, hair damp with sweat, head thrown back like she doesn’t have a care in the world. A post-game interview where she’s loose, confident, rattling off the same media-trained answers like she’s never lost control of anything in her life. She’s fine. She’s thriving.

And the worst part? She probably doesn’t think about you at all.

So you adjust. You fall back into routine. Class. Studying. Work. You go to parties, sometimes. You drink. You dance. You make out with people whose names you don’t bother remembering. You kiss Eli again—once, just to see if it sparks something, if it fills the void she left behind. It doesn’t. It never does.

And then, just as fast as she disappeared—

She’s back.

It happens out of nowhere. One second, you’re dragging yourself through campus, brain fogged with sleep, the winter air biting at your skin, coffee scalding the tip of your tongue. And then—her. Right there. Like she never left. Like she hasn’t spent the last few weeks bouncing between cities, arenas, flashing cameras. Like she isn’t something bigger than all of this.

She’s standing outside the training facility, hoodie pulled over her head, joggers slung low on her hips, a duffel bag hanging off her shoulder. She’s talking to someone—one of her coaches, maybe—but she’s different. Not in the way she looks. No, she’s exactly the same, infuriatingly so. It’s something else, something in the way she carries herself, like she’s spent so much time away from this part of her life that she almost forgot it existed.

Like she almost forgot about you.

Your breath stutters. Your steps slow.

She’s close enough to touch. Close enough to reach out and prove she’s real.

And yet, she might as well be a ghost.

Because when she finally turns, finally glances up—she sees you. You know she does. But there’s nothing. No reaction. No flicker of recognition. No teasing smirk. No raised brow, no knowing glance, nothing. Just a passing look, empty and indifferent, before she turns away.

Like you’re nobody.

Like that night never happened.

Like you never fucking existed.

And it wrecks you. Because for the first time since this whole fucked-up, tangled thing started—

It feels like you lost.

Two Months Later

Dating Eli is easy. That’s the problem.

There’s no push and pull, no fire curling under your ribs, no moments where your pulse spikes so fast you think you might actually combust. There’s no game. No tension. Just quiet, steady comfort. He’s sweet—thoughtful, even. Picks you up for class sometimes, walks you to your dorm even when it’s out of his way, texts you good morning despite seeing you every day. A good boyfriend. The kind you’re supposed to want.

And you? You go through the motions. You hold his hand. Let him kiss you. Let him slip an arm around your shoulders as you walk across campus, even though it still feels foreign. Even though it still feels wrong. But you let it happen because it’s safe. Because he doesn’t make your stomach drop. Because he doesn’t wreck you.

Because he’s not her.

And that’s exactly what you need. Because Paige Bueckers doesn’t know you exist anymore.

She came back from the season like she shed you—like you were just something she outgrew. Whatever happened between you was nothing. A passing thought. A mistake so inconsequential she didn’t even have to acknowledge it. And if she doesn’t care? Then neither do you.

So you lean into Eli.

And when he invites you to a UConn game—something casual, something low-stakes, something he’s excited to take you to—you say yes. You say yes because it makes sense. Because this is your life now. Because Paige Bueckers is just another player on the court.

And that’s all she’s ever going to be.

The stadium is packed, the early spring air crisp, cutting through the warmth of the sun. You follow Eli up the steps, scanning for open seats, the scent of popcorn and hot dogs thick in the air. It’s different from the last time you were at a game. Not indoors, not under the blinding arena lights. The energy is looser, more relaxed, fans chatting easily, kids waving oversized foam fingers.

You take a breath, steadying yourself. It’s fine. It’s just a game. And you’re here with your boyfriend.

Eli finds seats near the middle, pulling you down beside him, arm draping lazily over your shoulders. You lean in, let yourself sink into the warmth of his body, let yourself pretend like this is all normal.

On the court, the team is warming up. Players jog across the pavement, stretching, shaking out their limbs. Your gaze drifts over them, detached, unfocused, not looking for anything in particular—

And then—her.

It shouldn’t feel like a fucking collision, but it does.

Your breath catches, body locking up as if it knew before your brain did. As if some deep, unshakable instinct recognized her presence before you could stop it. Paige jogs across the court, her shorts hanging loose around her thighs, her hoodie still on, dribbling lazily like she doesn’t have a single care in the world. Like she’s untouchable.

Your chest tightens. She still looks the same. Still is the same. And yet—something’s different. Maybe it’s the way she seems even more unreachable now, like she exists in a space just beyond your grasp.

You exhale sharply, force your gaze away.

You’re here with Eli.

You’re fine.

This means nothing.

Eli nudges you. “You good?”

You blink, nodding too quickly. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

He smiles, presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Get ready. She’s gonna put on a show.”

You force a laugh.

And when you chance another glance at the court—Paige is already looking at you.

But this time, she reacts.

Just slightly. Just enough.

A shift in her eyes. A flicker of something.

And then—she smiles.

Not big. Not obvious. Just the barest curve of her lips, like she knows. Like she sees you sitting there, tucked under Eli’s arm, playing house, pretending like you’ve moved on. And for the first time in months, you know—

She hasn’t forgotten you at all.

You don’t watch the game. Not really.

You hear it—the sharp squeak of sneakers against pavement, the shrill whistle of fouls, the deafening roar of the crowd when UConn scores. You see it—the blur of white and navy jerseys cutting across the court.

But your focus is off.

Because all you can feel is the weight of her presence.

And the fact that she knows you’re here.

It fucks with you.

Because it had been easy to believe she forgot. That she let it go, left you in the past, moved on like you were nothing. But now—now she’s looking at you between plays. Not constantly. Not obviously. Just enough.

A glance while she’s standing at the free-throw line, hands on her hips, chest rising and falling. A flicker of her eyes when she jogs back on defense, scanning the crowd, skimming right past Eli like he doesn’t even exist.

And that fucking smirk when she sinks a three-pointer, lets it hang in the air for just a second before she turns, wiping the sweat off her brow with the hem of her jersey.

It’s deliberate. Calculated.

And it’s working.

Heat curls up your spine, a suffocating mix of frustration and something you won’t name. Your arms lock tight across your stomach, fingers curled into your sleeves. Beside you, Eli cheers, completely oblivious.

You wish you could be.

You wish you could tune her out. Pretend she’s just another player on the court. Pretend she doesn’t get under your skin.

But she’s in your head again. She won’t leave.

And worse—she knows it.

The game stretches on, endless. Every second is another reminder that she’s still there. That she’s not just some passing thought, some unfinished mistake. She’s real. She’s here. And she’s still in this fucking thing with you, even if neither of you are saying it out loud.

By the time the final buzzer sounds, you feel like you’ve been through a war.

Eli’s arm tightens around your shoulders, shaking you lightly. “See? Told you she’d put on a show.”

You nod, force a tight smile, but your chest feels hollow, your stomach twisted into something you don’t know how to untangle.

Because the game might be over—

But this?

This is just getting started.

The crowd filters out in waves, a slow, steady stream of bodies stretching stiff limbs, shaking off the lingering chill, still thrumming with energy from the win. Eli stands, his hand warm around yours as he pulls you up with him, his voice easy, unbothered, spilling into the space between you with post-game analysis—stats, highlights, a play he wants to rewatch later.

You nod when you’re supposed to, hum responses that sound just engaged enough, but none of it sticks. Your mind is elsewhere.

Because she’s still here.

Not with the team. Not caught up in post-game celebrations or media duties. No cameras, no noise, no excuses. Just lingering.

Sweat still clings to the curve of her neck, damp strands of blonde hair curling against her skin. Her hoodie is pulled over her head, water bottle hanging loose from her fingers, body relaxed like she has nowhere to be. But she’s not just standing there.

She’s watching.

Not outright. Not obvious. Just enough.

And Eli? He doesn’t notice.

Because why would he? He’s here with his girlfriend, celebrating a win, caught up in the moment, assuming she’s just watching the team clear out, thinking nothing of it.

You, on the other hand—

You can’t fucking breathe.

Every nerve is stretched too tight, buzzing under your skin, prickling like static, like she’s marking you without even touching you. Like she’s still fucking with you, seeing how much space she can take up in your head before you break.

And the worst part?

She looks fine.

Completely untouched. Unshaken. Not like she’s been thinking about you. Not like this has cost her anything.

And that—that is what undoes you.

Because this was supposed to be over.

You were supposed to be fine.

But here you are. Crumbling.

Eli tugs on your sleeve, easy, unaware. “Come on, let’s head out before traffic gets bad.”

You blink, drag yourself back into the present, nodding too quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”

One step.

Then two.

And then—

You don’t mean to look.

But you do.

Just for a second.

And she’s still there.

And she smiles.

Not big. Not obvious. Just that same, slow, knowing curve of her lips.

Like she sees right through you.

Like she knows you’re unraveling.

Like she’s won.

It’s three days after the game when the email comes in.

You don’t think much of it at first, just another facilities request forwarded to you through the engineering department—something about a faulty vent system in the women’s basketball locker room. Nothing urgent, nothing particularly exciting, just another task to check off your list between classes and whatever project is currently draining your soul. You’re barely skimming the details as you type out a confirmation reply, promising to stop by that afternoon, when it hits you.

Women’s basketball locker room.

Your stomach tightens.

For a second, you debate forwarding it off to someone else. Someone more qualified, someone with less history hanging in that space. But that’s fucking ridiculous, isn’t it? It’s been three months. Three months since the laundry room, since she pretended you didn’t exist, since you started playing house with Eli like it was supposed to fix everything. Three months of routine, of pretending you don’t track her name through game highlights and Twitter clips, of pretending you don’t feel her presence like a ghost in the back of your head.

You should be fine.

This shouldn’t be a thing.

It’s a fucking vent. You’re going to walk in, tighten some screws, maybe clean out a filter, and walk right back out. No big deal.

And yet, as you step into the building later that afternoon, tool bag slung over your shoulder, the cold press of the metal door handle beneath your palm, you feel something coil tight in your chest, something uneasy and electric, something that tells you this won’t be as easy as you want it to be.

The locker room is quiet when you step inside, the kind of silence that feels thick, like it’s waiting to be broken. The scent of sweat and body wash lingers in the air, fresh from practice, steam still clinging faintly from the showers in the back. Rows of lockers stretch across the room, some still open, jerseys draped lazily over the benches, sneakers kicked off in pairs on the floor.

You exhale slowly, adjusting the strap of your bag as you move toward the vent panel along the far wall. The faster you do this, the faster you can leave. You crouch, fingers working quickly to loosen the first few screws, trying to focus on the movement, the mechanics, anything but the slight tremble in your hands, anything but—

“Didn’t think I’d see you in here.”

The voice is unmistakable.

That low, casual drawl, edged in something sharper, something teasing, something that shouldn’t still make your breath catch the way it does.

You don’t turn immediately.

You keep working, keep your gaze locked on the vent, pretend like your pulse hasn’t just doubled. “Just fixing a maintenance issue,” you say, voice as even as you can manage. “Won’t be here long.”

There’s a pause, a shift of movement, the unmistakable sound of sneakers against tile. She’s coming closer.

“Shame,” Paige murmurs, and fuck, you feel it.

The weight of her gaze. The presence of her body somewhere behind you, close enough to make the air feel different, charged, suffocating.

You grip the screwdriver tighter.

She shouldn’t be here. Not now, not after all this time, not when you’ve spent months convincing yourself she doesn’t matter.

But she is.

And she’s talking to you.

You swallow, working another screw loose, forcing yourself to focus. “Shouldn’t you be at practice?”

She hums, and you hear the smile in it before you see it. “Finished early.” A pause, and then, “Didn’t know you were doing this kind of work.”

Your jaw tightens.

Of course, she didn’t. Because you don’t exist in her world anymore, do you? Not unless she decides you do.

You finally turn, slowly, pushing up from your crouch, letting yourself look at her.

And fuck, that was a mistake.

Because she looks good, better than you remember, the months of training and travel and games only sharpening her in ways that make your stomach twist. She’s standing there in sweatpants and a UConn tee, hair damp from a post-practice shower, arms crossed over her chest, watching you like she’s curious, like she’s interested, like she hasn’t spent three months pretending you were just another passing face in the crowd.

And it pisses you off.

You force a shrug, tilting your head slightly. “Didn’t know you cared what I was doing.”

Her smirk twitches. Just barely. Just enough.

“Didn’t say I did,” she replies smoothly, but the way she’s watching you says otherwise.

There it is.

The push and pull. The old game slipping back into place like it never left, like three months of avoidance didn’t mean shit.

And you should walk away. You should finish the job and leave, act like you don’t feel this, act like she’s just another person in another room.

But you don’t.

Because something deep in you, something bitter and unresolved and desperate, needs to know if this still means something.

So you take a step closer, watching the flicker in her eyes as you do.

“Then why are you standing here?” you ask, voice low, steady, challenging.

Paige doesn’t move. Doesn’t step back, doesn’t flinch, just holds your gaze, her mouth curving slightly, like she’s enjoying this, like she knows she’s getting to you.

“Maybe I’m just curious,” she says, tilting her head. “Been a while, hasn’t it?”

Three months.

Three months of silence. Three months of pretending. Three months of you thinking you were the only one who remembered, the only one who cared, the only one still feeling it.

And now?

Now she’s standing here, looking at you like she never forgot at all.

You don’t answer.

Because what is there to say? That, yeah, it’s been a while, and yet somehow it still feels like she never left your fucking head? That you’ve spent the past three months trying to scrub the memory of her hands off your skin, only to have them crawl back the second you laid eyes on her again? That seeing her at the game did something to you—something ugly, something desperate, something you don’t want to name?

No.

You won’t give her that.

So instead, you just lift a brow, forcing something casual onto your face, like her presence isn’t making your chest feel too tight. “Yeah. Guess it has.”

Paige watches you for a second longer, and you can see it happening—her weighing the moment, deciding how she wants to play this. Because that’s what she does, isn’t it? She plays. Gives you something, just a taste, just enough to make your stomach flip, before she rips it away.

And you should know better by now.

You do know better.

But then she shifts, weight rolling back onto one foot, arms still folded, her mouth quirking into that slow, almost lazy smirk—the one that’s never meant nothing.

“So,” she says, tilting her head, “are you gonna keep ignoring me, or are we past that now?”

Your pulse stutters.

Your fingers tighten around the screwdriver in your hand.

You weren’t expecting that.

For her to just say it. To acknowledge it, to drag it into the light, the weight of your silence, the way you spent months dodging her like it might actually fix you.

You scoff, shaking your head, turning back to the vent, to anything that isn’t her mouth forming words that fuck you up. “I haven’t been ignoring you.”

It’s a lie.

Paige knows it’s a lie.

She steps closer—just enough that you can feel the shift of air between you, just enough that you catch the faint scent of her shampoo, something fresh, something clean, something too close.

“You sure?” she murmurs. “Because it kinda seemed like you were.”

Your teeth clench.

She’s doing it again.

The push and pull. The little tug, just enough to make you stumble, to throw you off balance, to remind you exactly who you’re dealing with.

You exhale slowly through your nose, focus on the screw you’re twisting into place, force your voice to stay neutral. “You seemed fine with it.”

There’s a pause. Just for a beat. Just long enough that you think maybe—maybe—you landed something.

Then—soft, amused—Paige says, “You think that?”

And it’s not fair.

The way she says it, the way it slides under your skin, the way it makes your chest squeeze, makes you feel fucking stupid for believing, even for a second, that maybe she really had forgotten you.

Your fingers tighten around the screwdriver.

She’s playing with you.

And the worst part?

You let her.

You don’t turn. Don’t face her. Don’t give her the satisfaction.

But your voice is quieter when you say, “Why do you even care?”

Another pause.

Then—

“Maybe I don’t.”

Your stomach drops.

It’s so fucking typical. Just when you think she’s giving you something, just when she pulls you an inch closer, she yanks it away.

You clench your jaw, inhale sharply, force yourself to stay still.

And then—because you refuse to let her win this—you huff a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Right. Of course.”

You finish tightening the last screw, closing the panel, standing up. You finally turn to her, tilting your head slightly, forcing something light onto your face, like you’re fine, like she isn’t doing what she always fucking does.

“Well,” you say, slipping the screwdriver back into your bag. “It’s been great catching up, but I have shit to do.”

You move to step past her.

But she shifts, blocking your path.

Not aggressively. Not obviously.

Just enough.

Just enough that you have to stop.

Just enough that you have to look at her.

Paige licks her lips, considering you, and her voice is quieter this time, almost thoughtful. “You don’t like when I do that, do you?”

Your stomach tightens.

You keep your face neutral. “Do what?”

She tilts her head slightly. “Give you something, then take it away.”

You swallow.

Because the fact that she’s saying it out loud—naming it, acknowledging it—makes your chest squeeze so hard it’s almost painful.

You force a shrug. “You do whatever you want, Paige.”

You step around her, adjusting the strap of your bag like the conversation hasn’t just sunk claws into your spine, like you aren’t already burning up from the inside out. You throw one last casual glance over your shoulder, just to make a point, just to show her this doesn’t fucking matter.

And then—

“Is he your boyfriend?”

It’s smooth, deliberate, cutting through the silence with the ease of a well-placed knife.

Your body goes rigid.

Not enough to be noticeable. Not enough to give her the satisfaction. But she notices.

You school your face into something neutral before turning back to her. “Yeah.”

The second the word leaves your mouth, Paige scoffs. Then—slow, quiet, like she’s really thinking about it—she laughs.

It’s not loud. It’s not obvious. But it hits.

It slides under your skin, needles into your chest, presses against something raw and unsettled.

You know exactly what she’s laughing at.

Not at Eli, not really.

She’s laughing at you.

At the fact that you’re standing here, pretending like that word doesn’t feel foreign in your mouth, like it doesn’t taste like something you don’t quite believe.

At the fact that you’ve spent months throwing yourself into a version of reality where he is the answer.

At the fact that she knows—she fucking knows—that if he really was, you wouldn’t be here.

Your throat tightens.

You square your shoulders. “Something funny?”

Paige shakes her head, smirk barely there, but sharp. “Nah.” A pause, her gaze flicking over you like she’s amused, like she’s bored. “Just wasn’t expecting that.”

Your fingers curl around the strap of your bag, tight enough to sting.

She tilts her head slightly. “Does he know you’re here?”

You force your jaw not to clench. “Why would it matter?”

Paige hums, the sound lazy, almost dismissive. “It wouldn’t.”

You don’t know why that lands deeper than it should, why it hits like something solid in your chest.

She doesn’t fucking care.

You exhale sharply, roll your shoulders, force yourself to act like you don’t feel like she just pressed a finger right against something bruised inside you.

“Well,” you say, tone light, detached, like this whole conversation hasn’t just put a fucking stone in your stomach, “great catching up.”

And this time, when you walk out—when you force your feet to move, when you push through the door into the cooler hallway air—you don’t look back.

You don’t have to.

Because you can still feel her there.

Still hear the low echo of her laugh.

Still fucking feel her.

And you hate that it still makes your chest tighten.

The locker room door swings shut behind you, but the conversation doesn’t leave with it.

It sticks.

It clings to your skin, coils in your stomach, presses into your ribs like something sharp and unshakable.

You walk down the hallway fast, like you can outrun the weight of her laugh in your ears, like you can erase the way she looked at you when she said that’s your boyfriend?—like the words weren’t just words, like they were something else, something heavier, something soaked in disbelief and mockery.

You should be over her by now.

But then why does your skin still burn? Why does your pulse still hammer against the inside of your wrist? Why does the way she said it—casual, unbothered, like it didn’t even fucking matter—make something in you want to break?

The night stretches out after that, long and restless. You try to study, but you can’t focus. You try to sleep, but every time you close your eyes, she’s there. Her smirk. Her scoff. The way she laughed like you were a joke. Like he was a joke.

You spend the next week avoiding places where you might run into her, avoiding anywhere that makes you feel like a live wire, avoiding thinking about her—

And it works.

Until it doesn’t.

Because the thing about Paige Bueckers is that she has a way of creeping back in, of making herself known, of pulling you back into her orbit whether you want to be there or not.

It happens at another party.

A packed house, music pulsing through the walls, the kind of night where people are drinking like they’re trying to forget something, where everything feels just a little too loud, a little too bright, a little too much.

You’re standing in the kitchen, fingers curled around a red cup, Eli close behind you, talking to someone you don’t know. His hand is warm where it rests on your hip, an absentminded touch, a casual claim.

It’s fine.

You’re fine.

Until you’re not.

Until your eyes flicker past the crowd, past the shifting bodies and pulsing bass, past the open doorway—

And land right on her.

Paige is in the next room, leaning against the wall, head tilted, that lazy, practiced ease draped over her like armor. She’s watching something—someone. A girl. Pretty. Brunette. Standing too close, laughter spilling past glossy lips as she hangs on whatever Paige just said.

Paige isn’t even touching her. Doesn’t need to. Just standing there, looking, smirking, waiting. And the worst part? You know exactly what she’s doing.

Like she could have her if she wanted.

Like it’s not even a fucking question.

Your stomach knots, tight and hot. Not with jealousy—no, it’s worse than that. It’s recognition.

Because you know what it’s like to be on the other side of that look.

You know what it’s like to be wanted by her.

The ghost of it slams into you like a fist to the ribs—how it felt to have those eyes locked on you, sharp and knowing, pinning you down like a game she was already winning. How it felt when she had you right there and she knew it.

Your grip tightens around your cup, fingers digging in like it’s the only thing holding you together. Your breath stutters, the air too thick, the room suddenly too small.

She hasn’t seen you yet.

She’s too caught up in her game, too wrapped up in not caring.

So you do the same.

You force yourself to turn back to Eli, to play your part. You smile, lean into his touch, let him press his lips to your temple like it’s easy, like it’s nothing. Like it means something.

And maybe it works.

Maybe it doesn’t.

Because when you chance another glance—just for a second—

Paige is already looking at you.

And this time—

She smirks.

Slow. Deliberate. Like she’s been waiting for you to look. Like she knows exactly what she’s doing. Like she knows exactly how much space she still takes up in your fucking head.

And that’s when you snap.

You don’t think.

You move.

Your cup clatters onto the counter, liquid sloshing over the rim, but you don’t care. You slip out of Eli’s reach, push through the crowd—away, anywhere, somewhere with air that doesn’t taste like her.

Your pulse is a riot, hammering against your ribs, deafening in your ears as you shove past people pressed against walls, past laughter and voices swallowed by the music, past the tight, choking heat in your chest.

Your hands are shaking. Your breath is uneven. You need a second.

Just one fucking second to breathe—

And then—

A door swings open, and suddenly—

She’s right there.

Paige.

Still smirking.

Still looking like she has all the time in the world.

Still making your stomach feel like it’s caving in on itself.

Your chest rises and falls too fast, heat crawling up your neck, pooling low in your stomach, everywhere.

She leans against the doorway, casual as ever, the light behind her casting long shadows over the sharp angles of her face. She looks obnoxiously good, like she knows exactly how lethal she is.

She tilts her head. “What’s wrong?” she murmurs, voice low, teasing, like she already knows the answer.

And fuck her.

Fuck her for this.

For knowing you this well.

For still knowing you this well.

You shove past her, shoulder knocking against hers, but she moves at the last second, stepping just enough to block you—

And then—her hand.

Fingers curling around your wrist. Not hard. Not pulling. Just there.

You suck in a sharp breath.

She’s not holding you here. Not keeping you against your will.

But she doesn’t let go.

And neither do you.

The air between you crackles, thick, heavy, dangerous. The weight of something unsaid presses into your ribs, clinging to your skin, wrapping around you like a fucking chokehold.

Paige watches you.

And this time—

She doesn’t laugh.

She doesn’t smirk.

She waits.

And maybe—just maybe—

This time, you’re the one who moves first.

The space between you is electric, charged, something twisting tight in your chest like a live wire ready to snap. The hallway is dim, shadows stretching long against the walls, muffling the noise of the party outside, trapping you in this thing you’ve been running from for months.

Paige’s fingers are still around your wrist, not tight, not forcing—just there, anchoring you, keeping you from bolting like you probably should. Her eyes flicker over your face, searching, waiting, and fuck, you hate how easily she does this, how effortlessly she pulls you back into her gravity like you were never gone at all.

Your breath is uneven. Your pulse is pounding in your throat, but your voice is steady when you say, “What game are you playing at?”

She blinks, just once, slow and measured. Then the corner of her mouth curves, something smug, something dangerous. “Don’t you have a boyfriend?”

Your stomach drops, rage curling up into your throat so fast it makes your vision go sharp.

You shove her.

Harder than you should, more than just frustration, more than just anger. It’s months of this—of her pushing, pulling, giving you something and then acting like it never fucking happened. It’s her laugh in the locker room, her smirk at the game, the way she looked at you through the crowd like she was daring you to react, to feel. It’s all of it—the way she still owns you and acts like she doesn’t even care.

Paige stumbles back a step, but her hand never leaves you.

Instead, she grabs your other arm, fingers tight around your biceps, steadying herself, steadying you. Her grip is firm, strong, the heat of her palms burning through your sleeves.

Her smirk is gone.

And when she speaks again, her voice is different. Lower. Rougher.

“I’m not playing at a game.”

Your breath catches.

Because it’s not cocky. It’s not teasing. It’s real.

Her hands flex slightly on your arms, like she’s bracing herself, like she needs you to hear this.

And you do.

It sinks under your skin, gets lodged somewhere between your ribs, breaks something open inside of you that you’ve been trying to keep sealed shut.

Your heart is hammering. Your whole body is buzzing, tight, waiting.

Paige is still holding you.

And she’s so fucking close.

You can feel her breath against your lips, can see the flicker in her eyes, the way her chest is rising and falling just as fast as yours.

You don’t know who moves first.

Maybe it’s her. Maybe it’s you. Maybe it’s both of you at the same fucking time, colliding like you were never meant to be anything but this.

Your mouths crash together, hot and desperate, months of tension unraveling all at once, burning through every nerve in your body.

Paige exhales sharply against you, hands tightening around your arms before sliding up, up, framing your face, pulling you deeper into it, like she’s afraid you might disappear again.

You fist the fabric of her hoodie, dragging her into you, needing her closer, needing more.

Her body presses against yours, her lips insistent, rough, a little reckless, like she’s been waiting for this just as long as you have.

The hallway feels too small, the walls too close, your hands too desperate where they roam—her waist, her shoulders, the sharp edge of her jaw.

Paige groans softly against your mouth, and it wrecks you.

It fucking destroys you.

Because it’s real.

Because she wants this.

Because for the first time, she’s not taking it away.

You don’t stop.

Neither does she.

It’s all heat, all breath, all want. Paige’s mouth is rough, greedy, like she’s making up for every second you’ve spent apart, every time she pretended she didn’t see you, every time she smirked at you like this was just a game. Her hands are everywhere—your waist, your back, gripping the fabric of your shirt like she’d die if she let go.

You’re no better.

Your fingers fist in her hoodie, tugging her closer, dragging her against you, needing her body against yours, needing her to feel what she’s doing to you. The hallway barely exists anymore—the party, the noise, Eli—none of it fucking matters. Just her. Just her mouth, her hands, the way she kisses you like she’s starving for it.

Then, between kisses, between desperate little gasps, she murmurs it.

“I need you, baby.”

It wrecks you.

Fucking destroys you.

The word slips out easy, unthinking, raw. Not teasing, not smug, not calculated. Just real.

Your breath catches.

Paige must feel the way your body reacts, the way your nails dig into her arms, the way your hips press forward into hers, because she groans against your mouth and drags her teeth over your bottom lip.

You’re moving before you can think.

Paige is pushing you, guiding you back, back, until your shoulder blades hit a door, until she’s fumbling with the handle, barely breaking the kiss long enough to shove it open.

The room is dark, empty. Some random spare bedroom, barely furnished, barely even fucking registered because the second the door slams shut, Paige is on you again.

Her hands slide under your shirt, rough palms dragging up your ribs, fingertips pressing hard, desperate. Your breath is uneven, your body thrumming with something electric, something you can’t stop, something you don’t want to stop.

You don’t think.

You don’t need to think.

You just pull her hoodie up over her head, fingers tangling in the fabric for a second before it’s gone, discarded somewhere on the floor. Paige exhales sharply as you press into her, as your mouth moves against her jaw, down her throat, tasting, taking.

Her fingers slip into your hair, tugging just enough to make you feel it, enough to make you moan against her skin.

“Fuck,” she mutters, voice rough, breathless, like she’s unraveling, like you’re doing this to her.

You are.

And she fucking loves it.

Her hands move lower, sliding over your hips, gripping tight, like she’s anchoring herself, like she can’t stop touching you, like she’s making sure you’re real.

You kiss her again, harder, messier, pushing her back until her legs hit the edge of the bed, until you’re both toppling onto it, tangled together, all mouths and hands and heat.

Paige knows she’s winning.

You can see it in her eyes, the slow drag of them over your body, the way she takes her time, drinking in every reaction like she’s cataloging them, memorizing what makes you shiver, what makes you squirm, what makes your breath hitch in your throat.

She still likes the game.

She still likes to play.

But this time, she isn’t letting you pull away.

This time, she’s going to take everything.

Her fingers skim over your stomach, slow, teasing, just enough to make you feel it but not enough to satisfy anything. Her mouth follows, lips pressing soft, lingering kisses down, down, down, like she has all the time in the world.

Your head tilts back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut, but then she stops.

She stops completely.

The heat of her, the weight of her, everything—just gone.

Your eyes snap open, and she’s just looking at you, smug, comfortable, settled between your legs like she owns this moment, like she knows she has you right where she wants you.

Her fingers trail up your thigh, featherlight, barely there.

“You want this?”

Your stomach clenches.

She knows the answer.

She fucking knows.

You glare at her, shifting under her touch, frustrated, dizzy, so strung out you can barely think. “Paige—”

She smiles. Slow. Wicked.

And then, just as easily, “Say it.”

Your breath shudders out of you.

Because this?

This is her game.

She wants to hear you admit it. She wants to make you admit it.

She wants you to lose.

Your fingers dig into the sheets, your pulse a steady riot in your throat, in your wrists, between your legs where she still hasn’t fucking touched you.

But you can’t play this game forever.

Not when she already owns you.

Not when she already knows.

Your voice is thin when you say it.

“I want you.”

And the second the words leave your mouth—

She moves.

Paige grins, low and satisfied, and then she finally stops playing.

She knows she has you, like she’s been waiting for this moment, dragging it out, savoring every second of watching you come undone beneath her. She doesn’t rush. She doesn’t give you everything all at once. No, she takes her time, letting her fingers trace the curve of your hip, pressing light, teasing kisses down your stomach, exhaling slow like she’s enjoying this, like this is just as much for her as it is for you.

You’re burning alive.

Your breath is uneven, your hands twisting in the sheets, thighs already trembling with the anticipation of her next move. But she doesn’t move—not in the way you need her to.

Instead, she just looks at you.

From between your legs, eyes dark, lips parted, expression unreadable, like she’s still deciding how she wants to do this.

Your stomach clenches.

“Paige—”

She presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, slow, deliberate, her nails digging in just slightly when she grips your hips, holding you in place.

“Shh, baby,” she murmurs, and fuck, there it is again.

That word.

Casual, unthinking, sliding out of her mouth like she doesn’t even realize she’s saying it. Like she means it.

You shudder.

Paige notices. Of course, she does.

Her smirk curves against your skin, and then—

She finally stops playing.

The first press of her mouth sends a raw, electric jolt through you, your hips jerking up on instinct, fingers clawing into her hair like you’ll die if you let go. But she’s already moving—already fucking dragging this out like she wants you begging, like she’s savoring every second of your desperation. Her tongue flickers, slow and teasing, pressing, stroking, curling, soaking you with her hunger, her need.

She moans against your cunt like she’s been fucking starving for it. Like she’s been waiting, aching, dreaming of this moment for weeks, and now that she’s got you open beneath her, there’s no way she’s letting you go easy.

She drags it out.

Like she wants to ruin you.

Like she wants to tear you apart and put you back together with her tongue.

Your nails scrape against her scalp, hard enough to hurt, but she only groans, only pushes deeper, her tongue slipping, flicking, thrusting into the dripping heat of you. You’re gasping now, thighs trembling, back arching, breath catching in desperate, broken moans you can’t even bite back. You can feel her smirk, the way she’s reveling in it, the way she’s enjoying every single fucking sound you make for her.

Her fingers press in, spreading you, holding you open, her tongue working, her lips sucking, teasing, devouring—like she’s trying to drink every last drop of you. The obscene, wet sounds of her mouth on you make you whimper, make you grind down against her, make you clutch her hair so tight she groans into your slick heat.

Your body is shaking.

Paige tightens her grip, keeps you there, keeps you spread for her, keeps you exactly where she wants you—helpless, ruined, fucking wrecked on her tongue.

And just when you think you can’t take it anymore—just when the pleasure coils so tight in your stomach it’s about to snap—she fucking speeds up.

And you’re gone.

You don’t know if you scream her name. You don’t know if you sob it. But the pleasure detonates inside you like a fucking bomb, ripping through your body, setting every nerve on fire, leaving you shaking, gasping, falling apart beneath her mouth.

When you finally come back down—breathless, wrecked, soaked and still trembling—Paige is looking up at you from between your legs, her lips swollen, her chin glistening, her eyes dark and wicked.

Paige’s brow quirks up and she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, slow and deliberate, her eyes never leaving yours. You’re still gasping, still trembling, your body melted into the mattress, legs spread, thighs twitching from the aftershocks of what she just did to you. But she doesn’t move away. Doesn’t crawl up to lie beside you, doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath.

She licks her lips, smirks, and says, “I’m not done with you.”

And then she’s moving.

Crawling back up onto the bed, her body sliding over yours, her hands gripping your thighs, spreading you wider before she finally lets her weight press down. Her skin is hot, slick, her breath heavy and sweet, her thigh slotting between yours as she pins you there beneath her.

Then she grabs your tits.

No teasing, no hesitation—she palms them, squeezes, kneads, rolling the soft flesh in her hands like she owns you, like she’s claiming every inch of you all over again. Her thumbs flick over your nipples, once, twice, before she leans down and takes one into her mouth.

The heat of her tongue, the wet pull of her lips—it makes you cry out, makes you arch into her, makes your hands fly up to grip her head as she sucks, hard, her teeth scraping just enough to make your whole body jolt.

“Fuck,” you whimper, thighs clenching around her, but she just chuckles against your skin, her mouth latching onto your other nipple, her fingers tweaking and rolling the one she just left wet and swollen.

Then her hand moves up.

She grabs your chin, tilts your face up, and before you can even process it—

She shoves her fingers into your mouth.

Her fingers, still wet from you, slip past your lips, pressing against your tongue, forcing you to taste yourself as she pushes them deeper. Your lips part around them, your tongue curling against the salty-slick heat of her touch, a soft, helpless whimper slipping from your throat.

Paige groans at the sight, eyes dark, lips parted, her fingers flexing inside your mouth before she pulls them out—

And spits.

Right into your mouth.

A hot, wet drop onto your waiting tongue, mixing with your taste, with the slickness she just forced you to swallow.

“Swallow it,” she breathes, her voice thick, rough, her fingers trailing down your throat as you do exactly what she fucking tells you.

And then her hand is between your legs again, fingers slipping through your soaked, throbbing heat, pressing in, pushing deep—

Fucking you all over again.

Paige’s fingers drive deep, knuckles sinking into the wet heat of you, her palm grinding against your swollen clit as you gasp, as you choke on the pleasure, your body arching into her touch like you can’t help it. Like you’re made for this. Made for her.

"Fuck—yeah," she groans, watching you, watching the way your body reacts to her. "You feel that? Feel how fucking good I make you take it?"

Your breath stutters, your hips rolling down against her hand, your mouth falling open, nothing but desperate little whimpers spilling from your lips.

Paige smirks, dark and wicked, pressing in deeper, curling her fingers just right, just enough to have you fucking shaking. "Bet he never got you this wet, huh?" she taunts, her voice thick with heat, with possession. "Bet he never made you moan like this."

Your fingers clutch at her shoulders, nails digging in, your head tilting back against the pillows as she fucks into you, slow but deep, deliberate, like she’s making a point. Like she’s proving something.

"You wanna lie to me?" she murmurs, lips brushing your ear, her breath hot against your skin. "Wanna tell me he’s ever made you come like this? That he’s ever had you dripping down his fingers like a desperate little slut?"

You whimper, shaking your head, unable to speak, unable to do anything but take it.

"That’s what I thought," she breathes, grinning against your throat, her teeth scraping over your pulse before she drags her tongue along your skin. "That little boyfriend of yours wouldn’t know what to do with this pussy if it fucking begged him."

She pulls her fingers out, slow and teasing, leaving you empty, aching—only to shove them back in, hard, deep, her palm slapping against your soaked skin as you sob, as you fucking fall apart.

"He ever make you scream?" she growls, fucking you rougher, faster, her fingers pressing against that spot inside you that makes your whole body jolt. "He ever make you soak the sheets like this?"

Your back bows, pleasure slamming through you, your nails raking down her back.

"You’re fucking mine," Paige groans, her mouth on your jaw, your throat, her tongue tasting the sweat on your skin. "This pussy? It’s mine now. Say it."

You barely manage to breathe out the words—"It’s yours"—before she presses her palm against your clit, her fingers curling just right, and you break.

Pleasure rips through you, white-hot and shattering, your whole body shaking, your vision going hazy as you come, as Paige fucks you through it, as she watches you, revels in it, grins like she just fucking ruined you.

And she did.

She fucking did.

——-

You wake slowly, the kind of slow that doesn’t feel like rest. The kind that feels like being pulled from something deep and heavy, like your body’s been wrung out and put back together all wrong. The sheets are soft, warm, unfamiliar, and there’s a weight draped over your hip—solid, steady, too much. Your breath stutters before your brain even catches up.

Paige.

She’s there.

Heat ghosts against the back of your neck, steady and unhurried, the rhythm of her breathing lulling, like sleep still has a hold on her. Her arm is slung around your waist, fingers curled lazily against your stomach, like she belongs there. Like she’s never left before.

And that—that is what makes your chest tighten.

Because this isn’t just some drunken mistake. This isn’t heat or tension or something you can chalk up to unresolved bullshit. This is her in your space, in your bed, in the quiet after. And she’s never stayed before.

Your pulse kicks up, your fingers twitch against the sheets. Last night slams into you all at once—the scrape of her teeth, the press of her hands, the way she looked at you, like she was done playing. Like she wasn’t giving you a choice anymore.

Your stomach clenches.

You don’t know what to do with this.

With her.

So you move, slow, careful, trying not to wake her as you shift out from under her arm. But the second you pull away, Paige stirs, her breath hitching, her grip tightening for just a fraction of a second before her eyes flutter open.

She blinks at you, still groggy, still soft, and for one, dangerous moment, she doesn’t say anything.

She just looks at you.

And you can’t breathe.

Then, just as quickly as it came, the softness vanishes.

Paige stretches, rolls onto her back, runs a hand through her hair, like she does this all the time, like she’s just woken up from any other night, not this one.

“Morning,” she mutters, voice rough with sleep.

You swallow, force yourself to move, force yourself to sit up and swing your legs off the bed. You don’t look at her.

“Yeah,” you say, clearing your throat. “Morning.”

You feel her watching you.

Feel her waiting.

For what, you don’t know.

But when you stand, reaching for your clothes, Paige finally speaks again.

“You leaving?”

Your fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt.

You could stay. You could let this morning linger, let whatever this is stretch out just a little longer.

But the longer you stay, the harder it’ll be to pretend like this isn’t something.

So you nod, still not looking at her. “Yeah.”

Paige exhales through her nose, shifts behind you, and you expect her to let it go, to brush it off like she always does.

Instead—

“You gonna tell him?”

Your stomach drops.

You don’t need to ask who she means.

Eli.

The name rings in your head like a warning, like something cold and sharp, and you hate that she’s the one who brought it up, that she’s the one forcing you to look at it when you were this close to just leaving without dealing with the weight of it.

You squeeze your eyes shut for half a second before turning to face her.

Paige is propped up on one elbow now, watching you with something unreadable in her expression, like she’s testing you, like she’s seeing if you’ll break first.

You lick your lips, pulse hammering. “That’s none of your business.”

Paige’s lips twitch, and for a second, you think she’s going to let it go.

But then—

She scoffs. Shakes her head. Leans back against the headboard with a lazy, almost bored kind of smirk.

“Right. Forgot you’re still playing house with him.”

Your whole body goes rigid.

She’s doing it again.

Tugging at you, pushing you, seeing what you’ll do.

Your jaw clenches, fingers fisting into the hem of your shirt. “I’m not playing anything.”

Paige hums, unconvinced. “Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Something inside you snaps.

Because how dare she?

How dare she act like you’re the one playing games when she’s the one who ignored you for three months? When she’s the one who smirked at you across a fucking stadium like she knew she had you? When she’s the one who—

You exhale sharply, shaking your head, forcing yourself to breathe.

This is exactly what she wants.

So you don’t give it to her.

You pull your shirt over your head, reach for your shoes, straighten up.

Then, voice even, you say, “This didn’t mean anything, right?”

It’s a test.

You can see the flicker in her eyes, the quick way her throat bobs as she swallows.

But it’s gone in an instant.

Paige shrugs, casual, careless, like she’s already over it.

“Right,” she echoes. “Just a good time.”

Your chest tightens.

You don’t know what answer you wanted, but that—

That wasn’t it.

You nod once, sharp, then turn for the door.

And this time, you don’t fucking stop.

The door slams behind you, the force of it rattling down your spine, but you don’t stop moving.

You storm down the hallway, your breath sharp, hands curled into fists, every nerve in your body buzzing like a live wire. You don’t let yourself think. Thinking would mean feeling, and you can’t—won’t—give her that.

Not after what she just said.

Not after this didn’t mean anything, right?

Not after she agreed with you.

Just a good time.

That’s all it was. That’s all she wants.

You push through the front door, stepping into the cold air outside, your breath coming fast, too shallow, like you just ran ten miles. You shove your hands into the front pocket of your hoodie, fingers curling against the fabric, trying to ground yourself, trying to—

Your phone rings.

Or at least, you think it’s your phone.

The vibration against your palm jolts you, and you pull it out, ready to decline the call, ready to shut the entire fucking world out.

But then—

You see the name.

Taylor.

Your breath catches.

Your chest tightens.

The cold bites at your skin, but suddenly, it’s like everything else stops.

Because this isn’t your phone.

This isn’t your hoodie.

You look down at yourself, the oversized sleeves, the familiar weight of the fabric, the scent clinging to it—her scent.

Paige’s hoodie.

Paige’s fucking phone.

And Taylor is calling.

Your stomach lurches.

Right back where you started.

The phone keeps ringing, vibrating steadily in your hand, demanding something from you that you can’t give.

You stare at the screen, at the name that shouldn’t be your problem, at the proof of what Paige just walked away from.

And something inside you snaps.

You spin on your heel, shoving back through the front door, retracing your steps, moving fast, fueled by something you don’t even have a name for.

You don’t knock.

You don’t hesitate.

You shove the door open, expecting her to be there, expecting her to still be sitting on that bed with her legs spread and that fucking look on her face, smug and satisfied and untouchable.

But she’s gone.

Just fucking gone.

Like she was never here at all.

The phone stops ringing.

Silence.

You stand there, chest heaving, hoodie too big on you, your fingers still curled around a phone that doesn’t belong to you.

The phone is still warm in your hand.

It shouldn’t matter. It’s just a piece of plastic, just a screen with a name that shouldn’t be your problem. But it is. The weight of it presses against your palm, solid and damning, the name Taylor burned into your retinas, a fucking mockery of everything that just happened.

Paige left.

Vanished like this was nothing, like she didn’t just dig her fingers into you and pull you under, like she didn’t just whisper your name against your skin, like she didn’t just look you in the eye and say just a good time before slipping away like a fucking ghost.

Like she didn’t just ruin you.

And if she thinks she gets to walk away from this untouched—

She’s wrong.

Your feet move before your brain even catches up, before you can think about how reckless this is, before you can stop yourself from doing exactly what she wants. Because you already know where she is.

Where she always is.

The athletic facility is quieter than usual this late at night, the halls dimly lit, silent except for the distant hum of vending machines and the soft squeak of your shoes against the polished floors. But the second you push through the doors to the locker room—

The silence shatters.

Laughter.

Voices overlapping, casual, easy, still thrumming from practice, still buzzing with energy. The kind of normalcy that makes your blood boil, because your world is fucking spinning and yet—

She’s here.

Paige is here.

Leaning against the lockers, towel draped around her neck, a lazy grin curling at her lips as she listens to something one of the girls is saying. Loose. Relaxed. Unbothered.

Like she didn’t just leave you standing in the wreckage she made.

Heat slams into your ribs, a pulse of something violent and ugly crackling under your skin. Your fingers tighten around the phone, nails digging in, breath sharp and unsteady. And before you even fully register what you’re doing—

You move.

The door swings shut behind you with a slam, the force of it cutting through the noise, making heads turn, making conversation die mid-sentence.

Paige doesn’t move.

Doesn’t flinch.

But her shoulders go rigid for half a second before she shifts—casual, calm, fucking unhurried.

Like she already knows it’s you.

Like she felt you coming before she even looked.

And when she finally does—

The smirk is already forming.

Already settling into place like armor. Like a mask. Like she thinks she still has control of this.

But she doesn’t.

You stop in front of her, too close, way too close, enough to make the other girls shift where they stand, enough to make the laughter fully die out, enough to make the air feel thick.

Paige stays leaned against the lockers, pretending, but her eyes flicker over you, sharp and calculating.

Assessing.

Waiting.

So you don’t make her wait long.

You lift the phone, hold it up between you. Let her see it. Let her know why you’re here.

And then—voice low, rough, barely steady under the weight of your fucking anger—

“You think you can just fuck me and play me while your girlfriend still calls?”

The reaction is instant.

The shift in the room is immediate.

Someone swears under their breath. One of the girls lets out a quiet oh, shit. Another shifts awkwardly, eyes darting between you and Paige like they just walked into a fucking war zone.

But you don’t look at any of them.

You only see her.

And Paige—

For the first time, she doesn’t have a comeback.

Her lips part slightly. Her throat bobs as she swallows. Her fingers twitch just slightly around the towel slung over her shoulder.

It’s subtle.

Barely there.

But you see it.

The hesitation.

The way she’s trying to catch up to you, trying to find the right move, trying to figure out how to pull back control.

But there isn’t one.

Because this time, you’re the one leading.

This time, she’s the one who doesn’t know what to say.

The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, pressing into your ribs, into your throat, into her.

Then—slowly—Paige exhales through her nose, shifts against the lockers, expression smoothing into something blank, something unreadable.

She tilts her head slightly, eyes flickering over your face, voice deceptively soft when she says—

“You done?”

Your stomach twists.

Not with pain. Not with embarrassment.

With rage.

Because she isn’t sorry.

She isn’t guilty.

She’s just pissed that you called her out in front of them.

Your grip tightens around the phone, your pulse hammering in your ears, and for a second, you think about throwing it at her.

Then, just as quickly, you step forward—lean in close, so only she can hear—

And whisper, voice like a knife—

“You’re a fucking coward.”

Paige’s jaw locks.

Her whole body tenses.

And that—

That’s how you know you landed a hit.

You hold her gaze a second longer, long enough to make sure she felt it, long enough to see the way her breath catches, the way her fingers twitch, the way she’s fighting to stay still.

Then—

Without waiting for a response—

You shove the phone against her chest.

She catches it automatically, fingers closing around it, but she doesn’t look down.

She just looks at you.

Expression unreadable.

Eyes sharp, dark, burning.

You should look away first.

You should be the one to turn and walk out.

But you don’t.

You hold her gaze.

Daring her.

Challenging her.

Waiting.

For what, you don’t fucking know.

But you can feel it.

Feel something shifting, feel something breaking, feel something coming.

And for the first time—

You think Paige might feel it, too.

But then—

She swallows.

Nods once.

Slips the phone into her pocket like it doesn’t matter.

Then—voice low, smooth, too fucking even—

She says, “See you around.”

Like this was nothing.

Like she didn’t just lose.

Like she’s already planning how to fucking win.

This is war.

[navii-blaze]

listen to my vision boy

[euniexenoblade]

"I'm not a girl!" - a transfem forcefem story

Hi hi hi hi, note that the premise of this is essentially an egg being cracked by an older woman, so there's a lot of he/him and "boy" useage. But stick with it please, I assure you the end is worth getting to :) also don't be mean about any weird grammar I literally wrote this in a couple of hours for free. Be nice.

----

The boy stood there against the wall holding a red solo cup, looking down at the floor, overwhelmed from alcohol and loud booming music of the party. He had watched his drunken roommate drive off with a date – his ride home was gone. He didn't know any of these people, his roommate insisted he come to this party to meet new people, and now he was all alone. Panic and anxiety swarmed his thoughts. He was drunk, he'd never been drunk before. He was fairly far from home, could he walk home like this? He doesn't know any of these people, would any help him if he asked for a ride home? He doesn't ask, though, he just stands against the wall, looking down at the floor, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone there, trying his best not to panic.

A moment of bravery, the boy looks up from the floor to scan the party to see if there was anyone that looked like they'd be approachable. To his dismay it all looked like drunken college kids talking, dancing, being obnoxious, people he felt too scared to talk to. His eyes flow from one side of the room to the other, noting nothing interesting. That is, until he sees a tall woman standing with a group of girls. Long legs under a short skirt being the first thing to catch his attention, but before long he noticed her wearing a band tee that was so tight it was straining against her chest, causing him to stare at her chest from afar. For a brief moment, he is distracted from his anxiety with drunken horniness. That is until he finally notices, she's staring back at him.

The boy freaks out. He doesn't want to offend anyone, especially drunken party goers. He decides it's finally time to head for the door across the room, but as soon as he moves towards it, he collides with some other drunken guy. His drink spills all down his clothes, the other guy getting none of the splash back. They apologize to each other, and the guy walks away leaving the boy alone in the party again. He looks down at what was once his favorite shirt, now potentially stained and ruined. He's angry he let his roommate talk him into this, he just looked like a dork and felt more out of place than he usually did.

“Are you going to clean up or are you just going to be a mess for everyone to see?” a voice whispers in his ear from behind.

He jumps around and finds the lady he had been staring at so intently greeting him with a smile. “Um, I, uh,-”

The woman grabs him by the wrist, “Bathroom's this way, silly.” She drags him to the hallway and opens a door, and pushes him in before coming in herself and locking the door. He stands there in the middle of the bathroom, staring at this woman in shock, unsure of what to say. She looks at him blankly, “What are you doing? Take your shirt off so we can try to save it.”

He gets nervous again, “I...uh...I don't really like being shirtless.”

The woman scoffs, “Such a child. You were about to cry in the middle of a party when you noticed your shirt was stained, take the damn thing off.”

Nerves or not, it's hard to say no when an older woman tells you to do something. "I wasn't going to cry," he mumbles as he pulls his shirt off. Before he can do anything with it, she snatches it from him, fills the sink with water, pulls a small cleaner bottle out from the bag she had been carrying under her arm, and starts working it into the shirt. “I know the guy that lives here. He's always throwing these stupid parties to feel cooler than he is. There's never anything interesting happening at these parties. Just drunken college losers.” He sits down on the side of the tub, letting the random woman do the work he didn't really know how to do. “That is, until I saw some pathetic perv about to cry in the middle of one.”

“Hey!” He yells without thinking, “I am not a perv!”

“Oh? Then why were you staring at my tits?”

“I, uh, um, I don't think that's, uh very pervy. I mean, Isn't it kind of normal?”

She turns around, a big smirk on her face. “Aw, someone's embarrassed about her perviness.”

He notices the pronoun she used, but decides to ignore it. “So, uh, can I have my shirt back? I don't feel well and I want to go home.”

“Sorry sweetie, it needs to go through the wash and dry. You can just go like that. This is basically a frat boy party, no one's gonna think a shirtless guy is weird.”

He considers it. “I'd rather not, even if my shirt is wet.”

She stares at him as if he said something incredibly stupid. “Ok, fine.” She grabs the bottom of her shirt with both hands and somehow pulls it free from her body, her breasts only concealed by a black lacy bra. She tosses the shirt at him, “There you go, a fresh shirt to go home in.”

“I c-can't wear this, it's a g-girl's shirt. They'll make fun of me...”

“Huh? Nothing about it is inherently girly. It's a concert shirt. And these dorks are so drunk they won't notice a thing.”

“I. Uh.” He's overheating. Overwhelmed again from the alcohol, the booming music, and a situation with a girl he's never been in before. But, above all else he's struggling with the realization that he's fully erect at the idea of wearing her clothes. “I. I. I can't. If peo-if people see-”

“Oh I see, wearing girl clothes turns you on, huh?”

His whole face turns red. Embarrassed is an understatement. He doesn't know how to respond. He's frozen.

“Aw, how cute. Strip.”

“WH-WHAT?!”

“I said strip. Take your pants and underwear off now.”

“N-N-NO! WHY WOULD I??”

“You're going to do what I tell you or I'm going to push you back into the hallway shirtless, and you can navigate what ever feelings that makes you feel.”

The boy's confused. That's not really a punishment. Anyone not wanting this situation would easily accept that. Even with being uncomfortable shirtless around people, he could deal with it to get out of a weird situation with a woman like this. But, despite that, he found himself standing up straight, unbuttoning his jeans, and pulling them and his boxers down. His body on full display for her, his cock fully erect, which he tries to hide with his hands as his face gets incredibly red again.

“Good girl.”

“I'm not a girl!” he yells back.

“Not yet, maybe.” She reaches up her skirt, and loops her fingers around the ends of her panties and slowly pulls them down. He watches her, confused and excited, and for a split second he can see from under the skirt that she has a dick. The boy looks away, pretending not to have seen.

“Aw, adorable. I'll make a girl out of you for sure.”

“I'm not a girl!”

She sticks her hand out, her black lacy panties hanging from one finger.

“Put them on.” She says.

“WH-WHAT?? NO, I can't, absolutely not!”

Her demeanor doesn't change. She just keeps looking at him with an intense stare. “Put them on, now. I will not repeat myself again.”

Once again, it's an easy situation to walk away from. He doesn't have to listen. He can grab his clothes and go. As she said, everyone's drunk, no one will likely noticed he came out of the bathroom naked. But, as before, he does as he's told. He takes the panties from her hand, and slowly slides them up his legs, his fully erect cock making the most noticeable bulge.

“Now you won't be so concerned about wearing my shirt, will you?” He doesn't reply. He's standing there in this woman's panties, feeling emasculated.

“How are you getting home?” the woman finally asks.

“I, uh, I guess I was going to walk.”

“Oh sweetheart, not in this state you aren't. I'll drive you.” Once again, he doesn't argue, he's already so embarrassed and overwhelmed he just avoids making eye contact and nods. "Now put on your clothes.”

He pulls his jeans on over the panties and puts her shirt on, noticing that it fits him remarkably well. “She was definitely wearing this to show off her boobs” he thinks to himself. Once he's dressed, she grabs his boxers and wraps the wet, cleaned shirt in them and places them in her bag. She unlocks the door and once again, grabs him by the wrist and pulls him with her. He doesn't resist, his will is beaten down too much, and a ride home sounds ideal. Just as she said, none of the drunk people even notice that he's wearing her shirt, all they notice is that she's topless now. “Haha yeah I spilled a drink!” she says, which is enough to make these people nod and ignore her. No one even notices him, or the fact he's wearing her panties. A fact that's getting his cock even harder.

The woman pulls him outside and guides him until they finally reach her car. She only finally let's go of him so he can get in the passenger seat, making him feel like a little kid being lead around. He's finally free to just sit down, something he's longed for all night, he collapses into the seat, finding such comfort in her car. She gets in the driver's seat. “So, where do you live.” He mumbles the address to her, so drunk and so comfortable that he's having a hard time staying awake. She plugs the address into her phone and seems ready to go. She turns on the car, loud music comes on as she does, overwhelming the boy again. The car doesn't move. He doesn't care though, he's barely awake. The comfortable seats feel like a new home for him to melt into. And, as he's starting to drift away to his dreamland, he jolts awake, she's rubbing his cock through his jeans.

“WH-WH-WHA”

“Aw, my sweet girl, you got so excited wearing my cute panties through that crowd of people didn't you.”

“St-stop, w-what if someone sees?!”

“Then they'll see me playing with a pervy girl.”

“I'M NOT A GI-” he couldn't finish, instead erupting into a moan as her hand went beneath his jeans and stroked him through the lacy panties. The softness of the panties felt so good on him.

“That's a good girl, quiet down and let me reward you.”

Once again, he was red. He couldn't argue with her, she knew exactly what to say to shut his brain down. She's stroking at a decent pace, he can see people going in and out of the house, but none seem to turn their gaze to the car. And even if they did look, he didn't care anymore. He was so very close to popping. He needed this. He needed to cum right here, right now. But, then the feeling stopped. He looked at her pulling her hand back, “No, please I really want to cum”

She ignores him and as he tries to ask again she pushes her fingers into his mouth. “Clean my fingers, and maybe you'll earn the right to cum.” This time he wasn't embarrassed, he was frustrated. Horribly frustrated. He needed to cum and now instead he was sucking his own precum off of this woman's fingers. But, he accepted it. He wanted to cum, and she promised he might get to. So he was willing to do as he was told.

“Good girl.” He doesn't argue this time. He knew she would just embarrass him again if he tried. Plus he wanted to cum. His silence brings a bigger smirk to her face. “Now let's get you home.”

The drive home was uneventful. She was taking her time making sure she didn't get into an accident. Eventually they arrived at his apartment complex, and he lead her to the apartment itself. He unlocked the door and walked him, she followed him in. The living room was dark, but he could tell his roommate hadn't come home yet. “Take me to your room.” And he does as told.

His room isn't very interesting. No posters or anything, not much furniture, just the bed, a dresser and a tv with some video games spread around. He could tell she was disappointed by what she found, but she didn't say anything about it. He tried to think of what to say, but he didn't know what the next move was.

“Strip down to your panties.”

But, clearly the older woman knew what the next move was. He did as told, he took her shirt off, he took his jeans off, and he stood there in the middle of his bedroom in this woman's panties, made wet by his precum. She walks over and runs one hand through the hair on the side of his head, and with her other grabs his ass, and then starts to kiss and bite him along the neck, slowly moving up his neck. Each kiss followed by a sharp bite, each one making him grow all the more restless. He lets out soft moans, surprising himself that he can sound that way.

“Such a good girl~” she whispers.

“I'm not a girl.” The boy moans.

“Oh? You're embarrassed to show your chest to a bunch of drunken men like a girl, you've got your panties incredibly wet like a girl, and right now you're moaning like a girl.”

He blushes. “N-none of those things make someone a girl.”

The woman slips her hand under the panties, grabbing his bare ass as she responds, “That's true. But doesn't it sound more fun to be a girl? What do you have to lose by embracing this part of yourself? Why not try something new?” He moans as she starts to bite him again. He has no retort. Just desire. His cock throbbing, yet tears forming in his eyes. “Please make me uh....please make me your girl.” the girl finally says.

A big smile forms on the woman's face. “Of course, sweetie.” She pushes the girl backwards onto the bed. The woman looks down on her with such a big smile as the girl adjusts herself so she'll be more comfortable on the bed, but all her movement stops as the woman gets on top of her. The woman starts by kissing her upper chest, slowly working her way to her nipples. The girl grabs her sheets and squeezes her hands into fists as the woman sucks and bites, making her moan from pleasures she never knew she could feel. The woman takes her time, sucking and biting, eventually kissing her way to the other nipple and repeating the process. Slow, biting, sucking, kissing, pleasure.

The woman starts to move on, kissing slowly down her chest, slowly down her stomach, slowly down her crotch. The woman starts to pull the panties down, just enough for her cock to pop out, and the woman takes it into her hand and puts the head into her mouth. The girl moans at the feeling of the warm mouth on her cock. With her hand, the woman starts to jerk the girl off, while lightly sucking on her and her move her mouth back and forth. The girl's eyes roll into the back of her head and she moans the biggest moan of the night. She's never felt such ecstasy before. It's intense. So intense. She needs it. She needs to finish. She needs to cum now. “Please, please, please” she moans. “I want to cum please.” She can feel it close. She knows it's soon.

And the woman pulls the girl out of her mouth. The girl is once again frustrated, “no, p-please, don't stop please...”

“Do you think you've been a good girl tonight? Why should I let you cum?”

“Please please please I'm sorry I'll be your good girl please let me cum.” She's desperate. She'll do anything. She has never felt this good before, she doesn't want it to end like this. “Please I'll do anything you want please, I'll be a good girl for you I swear.”

The woman smiles again. She pulls off her bra, revealing her giant tits for the girl to see. She pulls the girl head into her chest, face between her tits. “How do you like the tits you were so obsessed with?” The girl doesn't know what to say. They're lovely, but the pressure in her is too intense, “please, please, please” she cries while her eyes start to form tears.

The woman let's her go and stands up next to the bed. “I don't want to hear you beg. I want you to earn your right to cum. Put your mouth to good use.” The girl never considered she might be expected to do something back. This is all so new to her, she was just riding along with what the woman did. But, she didn't feel resistant to it, she just wasn't sure what to do. Sitting on her knees, the girl was easily crotch height with the woman now. The girl slowly lifted the woman's skirt, revealing the woman's semi erect cock. The smell of the woman's sweat and cock flooded the girl's senses. And she loved it. It made her even hornier. She takes the woman into her mouth, trying to copy what the woman has done before.

The woman puts both her hands on the top of her head, “Don't overthink it, just relax.” The girl listens and tries to slow down and relax, and then the woman thrusts, her cock hitting the back of the girl's throat. She pulls back and thrusts again. The girl understands now and tries to relax, but this is completely new. But that doesn't stop her from being a good girl. “Oh babygirl, your throat is just like a fleshlight, it feels like you're made for my cock.” The girl barely hears the words, she just lets the woman have her way. The seconds become minutes, the minutes drift by as the girl loses all sense of time. She is not a boy tonight, she is this woman's toy.

The woman eventually stops thrusting, exhausted she pulls her cock from the girl's mouth. The girl can see strings of saliva and precum connecting them still. “Lay down.” the woman commands. Having learned her place, the girl does as told, laying her head on her pillow, preparing for what's to come. “You've been such a good girl, I think it's time I helped you cum.” Excitement wells up in the girl. She's waited all night for this.

The woman crawls onto the bed and stands on her knees, pushing herself between the girl's legs. She puts her cock on the girl's cock, and thrusts. The girl lets out a loud moan. And again, the woman thrusts. And, again. And again until she's developed a rhythm. The girl realizes she can see the woman's face like this. She can see her face strain and hear her moan with each thrust. This turns the girl on even more. The woman notices the girl staring, and slows her rhythm as she pushes herself forward to shove her tongue into the girl's mouth. The girl doesn't know what to do and just let's her do it. The pleasure is slower, but the pleasure is there. The woman lifts her head back up, resuming her previous posture and previous rhythm, causing the girl to let out long, deep moans. The pressure is coming back, the intensity in her cock is building, “I'm g-going to c-cum” she moans out.

“Mmm, cum for me sweet girl,” the woman replies. Finally with the permission, the girl finally feels herself explode. Her cum shooting out of her and covering them both. The girl breathes heavy, nearly in tears, “th-thank you thank you.” The girl can't tell if the woman replied, her senses fade, the world around her fades, and she melts into the bed, deep into sleep.

The sounds of chirping birds wake the girl up. She's in bed, covered in cum, in a girl's lacy panties. The woman she met at the party before is putting her top on when she notices the girl woke up. “Oh hi sweetheart, I need to go, stuff to do. You should go back to sleep if you don't need to get up early.”

The girl shakes her head, she has no where to be. “But..I don't want you to go...”

“Awww,” she coos at the girl, “but I have to my sweet girl.” The woman picks up her bag and pulls a pen out of it. She looks around the room for something to write on, finally deciding to just write it on the girl's arm. “This is my number. Text me sometime.” The girl nods, excited. The party worked, she got a friend!

She escorts the woman to the living room, but before the woman leaves, she reaches into her bag again and pulls out two pill bottles and puts them in the girl's hand. "Take two of these a day.”

“What do they do?” The girl asks.

The woman motions at her body, “they do this. It'll make you the girl you've wanted to be.”

“I'm not a girl.” It was automatic. She didn't even intend to say it.

“Ok, ok, girl adjacent. You can be whatever you want, but take those pills and it'll do it for you. I have extras so I might as well give them to you.”

The woman opens the door and as she exits the apartment, she turns around, “Also, you're going to clean those panties and give them back. It's a matching set, damn it, I can't just lose them” The girl, realizing finally that she's still covered in cum and in panties, goes red and finally closes the door in a panic.

The girl goes to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water before going back to her room. She stares at the pill bottles given to her. She opens the one bottle and takes a small blue pill out. She stares at it, trying to figure out what to do with it.

“I'm not a girl.” she says to herself, just before washing the blue pill down her throat.

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson X Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Ch. 24

Word Count- 9.2k

Warnings- Swearing, mentions of death and violence, alcohol, kissing, sexual shiz, Klaus being freaky deaky (no children better be reading this)

A/n- Rebekah didn’t hook up with Damon she just hooked up with a rando after the dance!

“I’m bored,” Kol whined desperately to his siblings as they lounged in the grand living room.

Kol threw himself onto the leather ottoman, “Our sister is a strumpet, but at least she’s having fun. I need entertainment.”

Klaus narrows his eyes at his younger brother, “What are you waiting for? Go on have at it.”

“It’s no fun to go alone. Join me, Nik,” Kol leans forward with a mischievous look.

Klaus sends a bored look at him and then goes back to his sketch. Kol lets out a loud groan and stands up.

“Well, if you won’t go with me,” He taps his chin in thought, “I’m sure I can find someone to spend my afternoon with…what about that little mate of yours…Y/n, was it? Oh yes, I’m sure she’s great fun, I wonder if she’d let me-”

Kol is cut off from finishing his sentence as Klaus wraps his hand around his brother’s throat, “Finish that sentence and you’ll find yourself right back into that coffin of yours, brother. I’m sure it’s missed your company.” Kol not entirely caring for his brother’s antics, rolls his eyes, “Joking, brother,” Kol plucks Klaus’ fingers off his throat one by one, “And as you should know, you’re mate and I are now,” Kol frowns, “What do they call it now…oh yes, besties.”

Klaus’ mood gets darker the more Kol speaks. 

“That’s not true!”

Both brothers turn at the whining of their sister.

“Y/n is my best friend!”

Kol raises an eyebrow in challenge, “Really? And did she say this herself or is this another one of your delusions.”

Rebekah glares at her brother before grabbing a nearby vase and hurling it at him. 

Kol quickly darts away and laughs, “Your aim is almost as bad as your taste in men sister.”

Rebekah lets out a loud whine, resulting in Klaus groaning in annoyance. 

“Enough of you two,” Klaus throws himself back down onto the couch, “I’ll put both of you back into your coffins.”

“Mother would never allow that,” Rebekah says proudly as she sits on the same couch as Klaus. 

“Join me, brother. It’s the least you could do after sticking a dagger in my heart,” Kol tries to reason with Klaus. Besides, are you truly going to spend all afternoon drawing pictures of your pretty little obsession?”

Klaus’ eyes narrow at his brother, but he knows he can’t deny the accusation of his current muse. 

With a final sigh, Klaus stands with a sound of annoyance, “Okay. Why not? I didn’t have nearly enough to drink last night what with you trying to murder Rebekah’s date.”

Klaus strolls by both of his siblings, taking the sketchbook filled with drawings of his soulmate with him.

“Yes, please go, this house has enough men rolling around in it,” Rebekah says annoyed as Kol begins to follow his brother. 

Kol turns around and smirks at his sister, “Just like you, Bekah!”

Rebekah throws her purse at him, “Good riddance, both of you.”

—

“No sir,” I try not to roll my eyes at the middle-aged man sitting at the bar in front of me, “We do not offer refunds for alcohol you’ve already drank.”

The drunk man in front of me glares, “You’re mean.”

“I’m going to be a lot meaner if you don’t pay,” I deadpan back at him and with a roll of his eyes he fishes out a stack of ones from his pocket and throws them onto the bar counter. 

“Great,” I mutter as the man drunkenly stalks away. 

“Rough day?” I continue to count the ones as I answer Ric, “I love working my ass off for minimum wage.”

Ric lets out a chuckle, “Ya I bet… But if anyone can handle a job like this it’s you, Y/n.”

I look up from the money, “Ya? And why is that?”

Ric’s upper lip twitches, “You spent an entire summer living with Damon, without killing him. Because of that, I'm pretty sure you could do anything.”

I ponder Ric’s comment and then nod, “I am a person of great strength, aren’t I?”

Ric chuckles and raises his drink in agreement at my sarcastic comment, “Very much indeed.”

A moment later, a dark-haired woman sits down next to Ric. A little too close for my liking. Since Jenna has gone to Nebraska or wherever the hell she and Jeremy went, I’ve been keeping an eye on Ric to make sure he stays away from other women. She never asked me to do this, but as a fellow girls girl, I must. 

My shoulders deflate as a customer at the other end of the bar ushers me over. As I deal with him I keep sending glances over to Ric and the mystery woman, who appear to be in a serious conversation. 

After I deal with the man, I make my way over to Ric’s area and pretend to dry some glasses. Glasses I had already dried 20 minutes prior. 

“It’s impossible to know anything about whoever stabbed you,” I overhear the woman and I raise my eyebrows up in shock, “Short, tall, left-handed, right-handed, no clue.”

Why the hell does Ric keep getting killed?!?

“Well, what about my head, why can’t I remember anything about the attack?”

“Your CT scans were clear. Maybe you were compelled to forget,” THe woman answers Ric.

“That wouldn’t be possible,” I casually chime in as if I wasn’t already listening to their conversation. Both adults turn to me with confused faces, “Y’know since Ric practically bathes in vervain. He drinks it a lot…Just like his girlfriend, Jenna. His longtime girlfriend.”

The woman furrows her eyebrows and gives me an odd look and I smile at her sweetly before turning around and going back to fucking around with the glasses.

“Wait… you think the person who did this to me was a vampire,” Ric questions quietly to the rando.

“I mean it’s the only option,” She answers and I fight the urge to ask why I vampire would stab Ric when they could just bite him, or like rip his head off. 

“Oh, come on now.”

Oh god no. 

That British accent has me tensing my shoulders and keeping my gaze towards the wall, hoping he hasn’t noticed me. 

“Let’s not go blaming the new family in town just cause you lot have got yourselves a killer at large,” I hear Klaus say to Ric and whats-her-face, “Don’t mind us. My brother and I are just here to let off some steam, right, Kol?”

Great, he brought the ankle biter. 

“Right.”

Ric and the woman are silent for a moment. “Ric, I’m going to play some pool, join me,” The woman’s voice comes out urgent and I don’t have to have eyes in the back of my head to know Ric is staring at me. 

“Oh, don’t fret Alaric,” Klaus’ voice comes mocking, “I’m not going to lay a finger on Elena’s little friend, go have fun with your girl.”

His words hit my heart like a dagger, weird how now I’m just “Elena’s friend” when yesterday you were pretty much confessing your heart and soul to me. Pun intended. 

“You alright, kid?”

Without turning around I throw a thumbs up at Ric. After a moment I hear the screeching of two stools.

Everything is quiet for a moment. 

“If it isn’t my bestie.”

Lord, give me the strength. 

I slowly turn around and face the two brothers. One watching me with an amused smirk and the other…just watches me. 

Klaus’ eyes seem to be marking every inch of my face and body as if he’s committing me to memory. 

“Ankle biter,” I retort as I wipe my hands on my apron and begin to walk to the other side of the bar. 

“Aye, where do you think you’re going,” Kol’s foxlike tone halts me, “I would very much like a drink, and my brother here…well I’m sure a drink isn’t exactly what he wants from you.”

I almost choke on my breath at Kol’s words as I turn to face him. 

“Also, what is this ankle-biter nonsense? Is that some type of term friends use for one another in this century,” Kol asks as he places his chin on his hand, watching me. 

“Ya, sure.”

Kol seems to be delighted with my answer as he shoots a smug smile towards his brother. Klaus doesn’t give him the time of day though as he keeps his eyes on me. 

“What do you want to drink, Kol,” I take a step closer to the bar as I grab a glass for him and Klaus. 

“What do you recommend, Little Doll,” Kol smiles up at me. 

“Arsonic.”

A loud laugh escapes Kol’s lips, but it’s Klaus’ light chuckle that I can’t help but fall into. 

“Oh, she’s funny,” Kol says excitedly and then turns to his brother, “Odd fate mated her to the boring brothers,” this finally catches a glare from Klaus and Kol turns back to me and leans over the bar, “I’m sure I can contact some witch friends of mine and get that bond switched over to me. We’d have so much more fun.”

“Brother, another word out of you and it’ll be your tongue that comes out of your mouth,’’ Klaus bites and I instantly take a step back. 

My movement catches the hybrid's attention and a small frown makes its way onto his face. 

Klaus’ eyes are filled with something that makes my stomach twist. I turn my attention back towards Kol who is watching Klaus and I with his signature smirk. 

“You’re getting bourbon,” I tell him as I turn and grab a bottle of liquor from the shelf behind me. 

“Oh, goodie! Second shelf alcohol,” I bite down on my lip to keep my laugh hidden from Kol’s sarcastic remark. 

I turn back around pour the brown liquid into two glasses and then place them in front of the two men. 

“Thank you, Doll,’’ Kol says cheekily as he downs the liquid in one go. He then places the glass back on the counter and uses his forefinger to tap it. 

“You know you guys are going to have to pay for this right,” I tap the bottle and raise an eyebrow at both of them, “I’m on vervain so you can’t just compel me to make it on the house.”

Kol quickly flings a hand to his heart and a look of hurt comes over his face, “You would really assume such horrible assumptions of us?”

I don’t even blink as I answer, “Yes.”

Kol’s fake-hurt look instantly drops into a smirk, “And you’d be correct. Knew you were a smart one. But, don’t you worry,” He sends a glance to his brother who is still staring at me, “Elijah and this thing have already given our siblings a rule book of things to not do when it comes to you. Compelling you is number three,” Kol holds up three fingers.

I furrow my brows in confusion as I turn to Klaus who has now found interest in his still-full glass, “Rule book? And why is compulsion only number three?!”

“Oh yes, my brothers gave a whole presentation to us last night on things we’re not allowed to do,” Kol nods thoughtfully.

“Kol, I will dagger you,” Klaus’ threat comes out harsh as he glares at his younger brother. 

Kol rolls his eyes and then leans back over the bar again and whispers to me, “We’ll chat later.’

“You will not,” Klaus says before downing his downing his drink. 

“Unlike you, Elijah says we’re allowed to speak to her,” Kol says matter-of-factly to his brother with a smirk. 

In this light, no one would even guess that these two are psychopathic vampires, right now all they’re acting like is two brothers who like to piss each other off. 

“That is because of Rebekah, you weren’t a part of the pardon.”

Kol glares at his brother. 

“Don’t listen to him, Doll,” Kol turns back to me, “I won’t let them separate us.”

I purse my lips, “Yippee.”

Kol’s eyes go towards his drink and I roll my own. Nonetheless, I raise the bourbon bottle and pour him another one. I turn to look at Klaus, who surprise surprise is already looking at me, and I raise the glass in question.

Klaus nods his head, “Thank you, Love.”

I pour another drink for Klaus and then place the bottle onto the counter, then turn away hoping to go anywhere but here. 

“Little Doll, where are you going? Stay and chat with us,” Kol’s grating voice makes me roll my eyes. 

“I’m on the clock Kol. Unlike some people,” I send looks to both of the brothers, “I actually have to work to make money.”

Kol turns to his right side and then his left, “There’s no one else here, Darling.”

I copy his movements and let outa swear when I realize that there is no one else waiting for a drink. 

“Come chat with us,” Kol pulls his wallet out of his jacket pocket and places it on the counter, “We’ll make it worth your time.”

“I’m not a prostitute, Kol.”

A low growl from Klaus sends shockwaves down my spine. 

“Don’t listen to the dog, Doll. And I’d never insinuate you were a lady of the night. And besides,” Kol’s smirk deepens, “I’ve never had to pay a woman to spend a night with me. If anything they should’ve been paying me.”

I watch in silent disbelief at Kol’s hurt expression as he finishes his sentence. And here I thought Theo was full of himself. 

“Right…”

“Ignore him, Astin Min, it’s what all my family does” Klaus’ voice pulls my attention.

A quick look of hurt covers Kol’s face and for a moment I wonder if he actually has real emotions.

“Whatever mutt.”

Nevermind. 

“Pour yourself a drink, Doll,” Kol turns to me with a smile, “On me.”

I open my mouth to reject him but Klaus speaks first.

“She doesn’t drink,” His tone comes out casual as he takes a sip of his own drink, but as his eyes meet mine I’m taken back to the night before when I told him things about myself that not even Theo knows.

“Well, that’s lame,” Kol mutters under his breath, “What else is there to do for fun around here other than drink?”

I break eye contact with Klaus and shrug my shoulders, “Pretty much nothing.”

“Then why do you live here,” Kol’s question comes off actually inquisitive, unlike his other comments.

“Ask my mother,” I mutter under my breath.

“Yikes,” Kol yips, “Are we not a fan of mummy dearest.”

I clench my fists as I think back to my mother.

“Drop it, Kol…Luv,” Klaus’ unusually soft voice sends a wave of comfort over me and I unclench my fists. 

“Would you mind,” He gestures to his finished drink.

I grab the bourbon bottle and begin refilling his drink. I notice though that instead of watching my face, like usual, he’s glaring at my hand. 

“Me too, Doll,” Kol chimes in, and after I fill his brother’s glass I fill his as well. 

“Why do you work here,” Klaus questions. 

I send him a glance and begin tapping my fingers to the song playing on the bar’s speakers, “As I said before, I need the money.”

“For what?”

I want to roll my eyes at Klaus’ questioning but when I see the honest look on his face I just shrug, “Stuff.”

Klaus’ eyebrows narrow, “Stuff? What kind of stuff?”

“I don’t know, like bills, and stuff. College savings.”

Klaus’ eyes narrow further as if he can’t grasp the concept of me having to work for this stuff, “Wouldn’t your mother be the one who pays for that stuff?”

I let out an annoyed laugh, “You would think?”

“You could quit,” Klaus’ comment makes me roll my eyes. 

“Have you not been listening? I need the money!”

Klaus leans back in his chair and sends me an annoyed look, “I’ll pay for these things.”

What is up with these Mikaelsons and wanting to financially support me??!?

“You’d pay for me,” I say skeptically, “You pay my car insurance, my car payment, my groceries, my taxes, my gas, my art supplies, my college fund, Theo’s college fund,” I list off all my expenses in annoyance.

“Without question.”

I eye Klaus for any sign of a lie, but the stern look on his face tells me everything I need to know. He’s being serious. 

I release an uncomfortable noise and look away from him, “Well, thanks…but I can do it myself.”

From my peripheral, I see Klaus lean in and rest his elbows on the counter, “Just because you can, Love, doesn’t mean you should have to.”

I feel a burning in my eyes as I consider Klaus’ words. 

“Good lord,” Kol groans, “If I’ll have to deal with this,” He gestures to Klaus and I, “For the next millenia. Might as well put me out of my misery and dagger me now.’’

Klaus sends a dark smirk to his brother, “With pleasure.”

“Oh! I remember her from last night,” Kol points off to the distance and I follow his finger towards Caroline, who has just walked in looking quite hot, “She looks like a tasty little thing.”

Klaus spares a fleeting glance at Caroline before turning back towards me, “Have at it brother,” He mutters without a care.

“Hello, Darling,” Kol calls to Caroline who strides past both men.

Caroline stops and sends a bored look to the men. Her gaze holds on Klaus’ back and a look of annoyance passes over her face.

“Join us for a drink will you,” Kol questions her and raises his glass. 

“Who’s us?”

Caroline’s words have no hold over me, but the way she keeps looking at Klaus’ back as if she wants his attention, makes an annoyance build in my chest. 

My eyes dart to Klaus momentarily and I see him send me an odd look before turning over his shoulder to glance at Caroline. The blonde vampire instantly flicks her hair over her shoulder as the hybrid looks at her and I hear Klaus let out a low chuckle. 

Caroline’s features instantly morph into annoyance again when Klaus turns back around to face me with a knowing smirk. 

“I’d rather die of thirst,” Caroline looks at Kol, “But thanks. Bye, Y/n.”

With one last glance at Klaus’ back, Caroline sends me a smile, before pretty much stomping back outside. 

“Well,” Kol turns back towards me, “Hand me that bottle, love. I’m going to go harass the locals.”

“Are you going to pay for it?”

Kol must notice my change in mood as he smirks and opens up his wallet, “Of course love. Wouldn’t want to make you mad.”

I watch in awe as Kol fishes out a handful of one-hundreds and throws them on the counter in front of him. 

“Kol, it’s a $80 bottle,” I say unbelievably.

Kol just smirks and shrugs, “With the way it tastes it better be…but the rest is your tip, Little Doll,” He reaches over the counter and grabs the bottle before standing up. He then glances at his brother, “Enjoy. Talk soon.”

I watch with my mouth open as Kol saunters over to the pool table where the woman Ric was previously talking to is standing. I turn my attention to the wad of money on the counter and quickly count it.

Eight hundred dollars. That’s a $720 tip. This is more than I’ll make in an entire month…hell two months. 

I shake my head in disbelief as a happy laugh escapes me.  

“Now that I know money makes you do that, I’ll be sure to tip you a lot.”

I look to Klaus, confused.

“What?”

Klaus looks at me with the same heartstopping look from last night, “Your smile,” He gestures to my mouth as if it’s nothing, “I rarely see you smile like that.”

Klaus’ comment has a wave of embarrassment flowing through me, “I’m not superficial or anything,” I deny as I hold the money close to me, “It’s just that…,” I pause unsure if I should continue, “This amount of money might not seem like much to you guys, but… to me, it’s life-changing. I don’t have a trust fund to fall back on if times get tough. All I have is the money I save and with all the money I spend on bills and Theo’s sports…I don’t have much left. If any at all.” 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Y/n. I may have never had to worry about money, but I understand what it feels like to want something out of reach.”

I tug on my bottom lip as I nod and put my large tip into my apron pocket, “Thanks.”

Klaus smirks, “No need to thank me, love.”

I lock eyes with him and I feel a small smile making its way onto my face. Klaus appears to start to say something but the voice of a customer from the other end of the bar turns my attention.

“Of course,” I hear Klaus mutter. 

I hold up one finger to the customer and then turn back to Klaus.

Klaus nods, “Go, love. I’ll be here waiting.”

—

I let out a deep sigh as I finished dealing with a rush of customers. Normally when dealing with drunk people my anxiety level is only at 100 but with the everlasting stare I felt from Klaus the entire time my anxiety is now at a whopping 100,000.

“Do you need a refill,” I finally make my way over to Klaus who hasn't moved from his chair. 

“I’m alright, Love,” The side of his lip twitches as he looks at me, “I do wonder though why get a job working as a bartender when it’s clear how much you loathe drunk people.”

I bring my hand up to my neck and rub out the tension. Klaus's eyes follow my movement and his normal bright blue seems to darken. 

“I um… Don’t usually work as a bartender. But, someone called in sick so I covered for them.”

Klaus’ eyes make their way back up to my face and he nods in understanding.

“When do you get off?”

I glance down at the watch on my wrist and sigh, “Thankfully, only 30 more minutes.”

Klaus seems to be happy with my response.

“Great. What are you doing after this?”

I narrow my eyes at the hybrid, “Why do you ask?”

Klaus's lips morph into a smirk and he leans back and shrugs his shoulders, “Asking for a friend.’’

I let out a small laugh, “Right, of course. Because as I know you have so many of those.”

Klaus’ eyes narrow at my jab and I laugh again. 

“Tell your friend that I have a date.”

Klaus’ smirk drops. 

“Who?”

Klaus’ instant change in attitude startles me. Long gone is his casual demeanor, now replaced by something darker. 

“What?”

At my question, Klaus leans in and practically glares at me, “Who is your date?”

I try not to let Klaus’ attitude freak me out as I lean into him so our faces are a few inches apart, “The leftover lasagna I have in my freezer at home.”

Klaus’ face instantly morphs into annoyance, “Are you serious right now?”

I shrug, “I never joke about pasta.”

Klaus runs a hand over his face, “Y/n…careful.”

I raise an eyebrow at him, “Why?”

Klaus takes his hand away from his face and instead brings it up to run a finger along my jawline. I inhale an involuntary breath as he watches me with a dark gleam in his eyes. 

“You need to be careful because if I ever do find out you were to go on a date with another man,” My breath comes out shallow as he leans in so close our noses are practically touching, “I’d find him…rip all of his limbs off and then,” His eyes trail down to my lips, “I’d ravage you in his blood. So every time after that, every time a man even glances your way…all you’ll be able to think about is the feeling of me on top of you.”

I let out a squeak. A fucking squeak. 

I can’t seem to find my words, which only seems to please Klaus.

“You…you,” I try to shove away any unwanted thoughts as I look a the man before me, “You’re not allowed to get jealous…we’re not even together. Like I talked with Elijah about, we’re going to be just friends for right now.”

Klaus lets out a loud laugh.

“Friends?!”

I furrow my brows at the tone in his voice.

“Y/n love,” Klaus meets my eye, “My brother may try to fool you and himself with that silly notion, but know this…you and I,�� He points from himself to me, “Will never be just friends. Friends don’t think of each other the way you and I think of one another.”

I shake my head in denial, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Klaus tilts his head, “No? So that death glare you were sending your blood friend while she was trying to get my attention was nothing?”

God, I don’t know if I want to punch him or kiss him.

“Just to let you know though, you have no reason to be jealous. No other woman could sway my gaze away from my little muse.”

I feel my face heat at his confession and I open my mouth to try to deny him again but a piercing pain makes me release a loud gasp. 

I feel my knees buckle as I clutch my heart.

“Y/n!” I think I can hear Klaus’ frantic voice but with the searing pain, it’s kind of hard to focus on anything.

I’m soon enveloped in a warm embrace as I feel hands go under my arms and my knees, bringing me into a bridal-style pose. 

“I’ve got you, Love.”

I try to focus on the warmth of Klaus instead of my chest, but it’s kind of hard when it hurts like a motherfucker. 

A rush of cold air hits my face, and I think we must be outside now. 

“I’ve got to set you down for a moment, my love. I’ve got to go kill your friends momentarily.”

I try to open my eyes when I feel myself being placed on cold ground and I think I can see Stefan and Damon fighting with Klaus. 

After a moment I feel a weight being lifted off my chest and I no longer feel the stabbing pain. Thank fuck. 

“I should’ve killed you months ago,” I lift my head to see Klaus standing in front of me protectively and Stefan and Damon a few feet away from him looking disheveled. I lock eyes with Damon, and his eyes narrow as he looks at me for a moment before turning back toward Klaus. 

“Do it. That’s not gonna stop Esther from killing you.”

The fuck?

“What did you say about my mother?”

I watch with bated breath as Klaus stalks toward the eldest Salvatore.

“You didn’t know I was friends with your mummy? Yeah, we have a lot in common. She hates you as much as I do.”

“Demon, you fucking idiot,” I cough out, as I try to sit up against the stone wall. 

Klaus rushes towards him but is stopped by the sound of Elijah’s voice. 

Yay, Lijah. 

“Leave him!”

Klaus, Damon, and I, both turn to look up the stone staircase where Elijah stands. 

“We still need him, Niklaus.”

Klaus takes a step closer to his brother, “What did mother do? What did she do, Elijah?”

Elijah starts walking down the stairs and as he gets to the bottom step he unbuttons his jacket and takes it off. 

Why is this dude stripping right now?

“You’re shaking,” Elijah’s eyes meet mine and he reaches out his jacket for me to take. The cold look he had on his face, moments ago is gone and replaced with a sorrowful look as he gives me a once-over.

Oh. He's being chivalrous and here I’m calling him a stripper. My bad.

I reach out a hand, and as I catch a glimpse of its shaking I now just realize how right Elijah is. I try to muster up a small smile of thanks as I grab the jacket from him and place it over my shoulders. Elijah nods once before turning back and striding over the Damon.

“You tell me where the witches are or I’ll have my sister kill Elena right now.”

“What?!”

I feel my heart drop in my stomach at Elijah’s words and I push on the wall to stand up on wobbly legs. 

“Elijah, what the hell are you talking about?!” For the very first time since meeting him, Elijah ignores me. 

“You told me we had until after 9,” Damon says and I shake my head in confusion. 

“I’m sure Rebekah would be more than happy to start her work early.’’

Elijah’s words send waves of fear through me. 

A look of fear comes over Damon's face and he tries to rush past Elijah but Elijah halts him with a hand to his chest.

“And one last thing you should know. I see you have procured a center fondness for Y/n,” At Elijah’s comment Damon’s eyes meet mine, “As you may or may not know Y/n is my soulmate. As well as my brothers. With that being said if either one of us were to die…Y/n would shortly follow. Just thought you should know.”

Tears begin welling in my eyes as I watch Elijah. Damon looks at Elijah and Klaus, to see if either one of them is bluffing but when looking at both of their grim expressions he clenches his jaw. Damon pushes past Elijah, grabs Stefan, and begins to walk up the stairs. He stops though, momentarily and turns to look over his shoulder. We lock eyes and after a moment he shakes his head harshly and speeds away with his brother. 

Tears stream down my face as I stare at the spot Damon was in only moments ago. 

“Elskan,” Elijah’s soft voice comes from beside me and I flinch.

I take 3 large steps away and I stare wide-eyed at him.

“Do NOT come near me,” I raise an accusing finger at him and shrug off his coat from my shoulders. 

“Elskan, please you don’t understand,” Elijah raises his hands and tries to step closer to me but takes another step away. He frowns at my movement but still stops moving. 

“Understand what, Elijah!? That you’re threatening to kill my best friend?! Or that you’re using me as fucking leverage!”

It’s Elijah’s turn to flinch as I muster whatever strength I have left to yell at him. 

“Elena is innocent! And I thought you were better than this to use my a fucking leverage against my friends!”

Elijah shakes his head, “You’re so-called innocent friend made a deal with my mother to rid my entire family of this earth.”

I shake my head in denial but Elijah continues. 

“I asked Miss. Gilbert to be honest with me and she lied straight to my face. She was willing to let my entire family die, Y/n. But, I’m not. Especially when it means that you will also perish.”

“Elena would never do anything to hurt me,” I shake my head a wipe away the tears flowing down my face. 

“Exactly… that is why I told Damon what would happen to you if my siblings and I were to die.”

Elijah begins to take another step toward me but he is interfered by Klaus.

A snarl leaves Elijah’s lips and I back up to the point where my back is now pressed into the wall. 

“Give her space, brother,” I hear Klaus. Klaus turns over his shoulder to look at my quivering form and I see Elijah’s angry expression hinder as he looks at me. 

“What the bloody hell happened?”

I whip around with teary eyes to see a groaning Kol, walk down the steps, with a look of anger on his face. 

He looks at his brothers but when they don’t give him the time of day, he turns to me. His angry expression dims into confusion when he notices my tear-stained face. 

“Which one of you did this?”

I’m shocked by the angry tone Kol directs at his brothers. 

“Not now Kol,” Elijah glares at his younger brother, who glares back at him. 

“Am I going to die tonight?” My quiet voice catches all three men’s attention and they turn to me. 

“I won’t let that happen, love,” Klaus takes a step towards me but I move around him and find myself standing behind Kol. 

Klaus seems hurt by my action but I honestly don’t give a flying fuck right now.

“What will happen to Theo if I die,” I feel my chest hurt as I mutter to myself. My body begins to shake and I blink rapidly as my vision goes in and out. I try to catch my breath but I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe. Oh God, I’m suffocating. 

Warm hands press themselves to my face and I think I can hear Klaus’ voice through the ringing that is going through my head. Klaus’ voice is gone though as the ringing in my head gets louder and my breaths get shorter. 

My breathing completely halts as a weight presses itself onto my lips.

I open my eyes and realize that Klaus is pressing his lips to mine. Again. 

I’m practically knocked out of the panic attack I was in as I back away quickly from Klaus who watches my every move. 

My eyes fling from Klaus to Kol who is watching the exchange with a raised eyebrow, and then I look to Elijah who now won’t meet my eye. 

“Well, now that that is done…I’d like very much to not die today so let’s get this show on the road.”

I look towards Kol who eyes me for a moment before wrapping me under his arm and begins walking me up the stairs. 

I go to take a step but my knees buckle and I begin to fall. 

Thankfully, Kol wraps his arm around my waist and uses his strength to pretty much carry me up the stairs, “Don’t worry love. I’ve got you.”

I look up at him and find myself beginning to tear up again, “Thank you.”

Kol looks down at me and something shifts in his eyes momentarily before he looks forward and smirks, “What are friends for?”

—-

I’m now trudging through a cold, windy ass forest to go stop my soulmate's deranged mother from killing us all. Fantastic. Fuck I’m hungry. 

Klaus, Elijah, and Kol walk ahead of me a few paces as I trudge behind. Kol offered to carry me the way but not wanting to feel like a damsel I denied him. Now as my aching muscles scream at me, I regret it. 

Thankfully, I warm orange light can be seen from up ahead.

Elijah stops and turns to me, “You should stay here. We’ll handle this.”

I glare at Elijah and walk past him and the other two men, “Ya, because you three have been so good at handling things so far,” I spit. 

I try to forget the pain as I march towards the open center of the woods where Esther stands with Finn in a circle of fire and salt. 

Sigmund Freud, you would’ve loved these two.

Elijah comes to stand on my right, Klaus on my left and Kol walks behind them to stand right beside Klaus. 

“My sons, come forward,” Esther says, and god I’ve never wanted to throw a punch at a woman more in my entire life. 

“Stay beside me,” Finn puts his hand out to his mother and I frown at him. 

“It’s okay. They can’t enter.”

“Ya, so why don’t you stop hiding behind your magic and come over here bitch,” I bite at her and I hear Kol snigger. 

“Ah, yes. I’m afraid we haven’t properly met, my dear. I do want you to know I don’t blame you for your anger. I am incredibly sorry that fate has put you with my sons.”

The flames around Esther and Finn engulf and I feel the warmth spread across my cold face. I feel a slight tug on my elbow and Klaus and Elijah come to stand in front of me. 

“Go fuck yourself, Esther.”

“That’s lovely,” Kol says as he looks at the flames, “We’re stuck out here while the favorite son plays sacrificial lamb. How pathetic you are, Finn.”

“Be quiet, Kol,” Esther stops him, “Your brother knows virtue you cannot even imagine.”

“Whatever you think of us killing your own children would be an atrocity.”

Esther shakes her head at Elijah’s words.

“My only regret is that I did not let you die a thousand years ago.”

“Enough,” Klaus exhausts, “All this talk is boring me. End this now, Mother or I’ll send you back to hell.”

A smirk comes onto my face at Klaus’ words. 

“For a thousand years I’ve been forced to watch you; felt the pain of every victim; suffered while you shed blood. Even you, Elijah, with your claim to nobility you’re not better. All of you you’re a curse on this Earth stretched out over generations. If you’ve come to plead for your life I’m sorry. You’ve wasted your time.”

“And what of Y/n,” The mention of my name has me looking at Elijah who points his finger at me, “A girl who is nothing but caring, pure, and good of heart. And yet what? You burden her with death. She does not deserve this mother. She is good… I am asking you…do not harm the woman I love.”

Elijah’s eyes lock with mine and the emotions hidden in them pull something in me I didn’t know existed. 

“Yes, she is innocent. But for how long? How long before your promised immortality results in her death or her transition into a monster like you all? Fate has already given his girl the hand of death. It is better I give her the mercy of a quick one now.”

A wave of anger I’ve never felt before exudes me as I push past Klaus and Elijah and stand at the ring of salt, heat from the fire be damned. 

“You are unbelievable!”

“Excuse me?”

“You sit on your high horse hiding behind your poor son, while you degrade and belittle your other children! Instead of loving them for their faults, you have condemned them to think of themselves as nothing more than monsters. Yes, they have lived a thousand years, and yes they have spilled blood! But who the fuck wouldn’t!? I haven’t known any of them very long but I am sure that these so-called monsters you see as your children are not the people I see before me right now,” I point to Finn who watches me with a cold expression, “Finn for example follows you dutifully because that’s all he knows! It is all he’s been allowed to know! You pushed this idea that he and his siblings are all monsters who deserve nothing and yet here he stands ready to die at your altar for your approval! Finn was betrayed by his siblings for almost a thousand years and when he’s finally awoken I bet you just jumped at the fact that he would cling to the first sign of care and love anyone would show him, didn’t you,” I accuse the glaring woman in front of me and I look as Finn’s gaze turns to his mother, “A woman trying to sacrifice her own son isn’t what he needed Esther, he needed a mother. And what about Kol,” I whip around and point at the boy next to me, “Yes, I’ve only known him two days and he’s already a pain in my ass, but even in those two days he’s shown me more care than my own father or mother have ever shown me! And Klaus…,” I stop and make eye contact with Klaus who is watching me with an unreadable expression, “God…Esther, you are a pathetic excuse for a woman and mother. How many times did you excuse Mikael’s behavior? When Klaus came crying to you in pain, how many times did you just patch him up and then wait with bated breath until the next time he came to you needing help again? I have a mother like you, you know. And I love her because she’s my mother…but I also hate the ground she walks on because she’s an idiotic woman who was too scared to leave a man who caused nothing but pain for her children. And after all of that, you criticize Elijah’s attempts at being a better person?! You just went on and on about them being monsters but the second one of them tries to change you disparage him? Right now I’m pissed off at Elijah, but even though I am that doesn’t stop me from thinking that he is one of the best people I have ever met in my 18 years of life. Before I met him, I was nothing,” I say and I can see my vision start to blur with tears, “I was a quiet girl who nobody cared for. I woke each day waiting for life to be done with me, just as I was done with it. But then…,” I look to Elijah whose eyes are filled with nothing but pure devotion, “I met a man who did something I never thought anyone would ever be able to do…breathe. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t holding my breath around everyone. The day I met Elijah everything changed for me. Meeting him was the best day of my life…and also the first day I truly started living. So don’t you dare for a second blame your mistakes on them! You made your bed now fucking lie in it, Esther.”

 Esther’s glare is harsh but nothing could sway the rage that flows through my body as I stare at the bitch in front of me. 

Esther’s glare instantly shifts into fear and I am pulled back by Kol as the flames around the circle begin to flicker. 

“No! Sisters, do not abandon me!”

Esther’s yells are useless as the flames around us flare up and Kol covers my body with his own. After another moment the heat of the flames is gone.

I glance up at Kol and send him a smile and he nods.

Klaus, Elijah, Kol, and I stand together as we look at the unlit circle where I stone-faced Finn and a frightened Esther stand.

“Finn,” Esther grabs her son's arm, “We must leave now.”

Finn looks down at his mother and then his gaze falls onto me. 

“You’re your own person Finn. Peculiar…but still,” I smile at him and his chest puffs out. 

Finn shrugs out his mother’s hold and shakes his head at her. 

“Finn, what are you doing?”

I feel a sick smirk come onto my face as I look at Esther’s scared expression. 

“I have lived for a thousand years mother, and yet I have spent none of those feeling alive. I think I deserve the chance to.”

I can’t help the giant smile that I feel across my face at Finn’s words. Hell ya, brother!

“Finn you have no idea what you’re talking about! Don’t let this insolent little harlot,” She gestures to me wildly, “Sway you from the plan!”

A flash of motion catches my eye and I let out a yelp as I watch Esther’s head get swiped off her body. 

Elijah stands before his mother’s dead body with a grim expression on his face, “No one is allowed to insult, Y/n. Not even you, mother.”

I blink as I stare at Esther’s decapitated body. 

“Well, mommy dearest is dead again.”

I look up to Kol whose attention goes from his mother’s body to Finn.

“You absolute fool,” Kol bites at Finn, and all three brothers turn to glare at the eldest Mikaelson.

Without thinking I rush in front of Finn and put a hand out stopping his brothers. 

“Off limits!”

“Excuse me?!”

Kol stares wildly at me as if I have three heads. 

“Yep. Just like you and me kol, Finn and I also have our own deal,” I look back towards Finn who looks at me confused before nodding along, “So if you dagger him, I’ll never speak to the three of you again.”

“I can live with that,” Kol mutters not taking his eyes off Finn.

“That’s fine…then that means our deal no longer stands, ankle biter. Tell me,” I smirk at Kol, “How many moth balls does that coffin of yours collect a year?”

Kol turns his glare from his brother to me, but I hold it. 

“If anything I think you all owe Finn an apology. I mean Kol you’re pissed off for being daggered away for a hundred years, and yet you hold no sympathy for your brother who was daggered for ten times that?!”

Kol glare drops slightly as he thinks for a moment before rolling his eyes. 

“I take it back…I wouldn’t want to be your mate.”

“Right back at you.”

With one final look at his brother, Kol speeds off into the dark forest. 

My attention goes to Elijah and Klaus and I raise an eyebrow in challenge at them. 

“What’s it going to be, boys?”

Elijah’s eyes don’t leave mine as he addresses his eldest brother, “Leave Finn.”

“Thank you, Y/n,” I hear Finn whisper to me before he also speeds off into the night.

I look a the two men before me and let out a shaky breath. 

“Soooooooo…..”

“Did you mean what you said?”

I look at Elijah, “That I’m pissed off at you…yes.”

Elijah shakes his head, “Y/n…”

I rub a hand down my face and nod, “Yes. Every word.”

I don’t have time for my hand to move away from my face when I feel two strong arms wrap themselves around me in an embrace. 

I release a shaky breath as I feel Elijah use one hand to grip my waist and the other to hold the back of my head. 

I know I’m not much of a hugger…but damn this feels nice. 

“Thank you.”

Elijah’s soft voice makes me almost forget I’m mad at him…almost. 

“You’re welcome. But, I’m still pissed at you.”

“I know, Elskan,” Elijah says as he leans back and runs a hand through my hair, getting it out of my face. 

A cough interrupts us and I glance over Elijah’s shoulder to Klaus who is watching us with a glare. 

I step away from Elijah, who grunts in disapproval. 

“So, I’m glad we didn’t die. That’s cool.”

Silence.

“Okay…well I’m starving and your mother’s decapitated head is right by my left foot soooooo….can we leave?”

—-

Klaus and I walk silently up the staircase to my front door. Elijah had left us earlier to go tell Rebekah about their mother. 

When Klaus and I get to my door, I wait for him to say something, but sigh when all he does is stare at the door. 

“Ok…Night,” I reach for the handle and begin to turn it when Klaus's hand grabs mine. I turn to look at him in question but before I can even blink I’m being tagged forward into Klaus’ embrace and his lips are attacking mine. It only takes my body a moment to catch on and before I realize what I’m doing I’m kissing him back. This seems to be the approval Klaus needed because he used his hand to grab my waist to pull my flush against his chest and his other hand to grip the back of my neck so I couldn’t move…not that I wanted to. I try to fight for dominance but that is quickly stopped when Klaus bites harshly into my bottom lip, making me exhale. This gives Klaus an opening as his tongue enters my mouth and begins fighting for dominance against my own. An involuntary moan escapes my lips at the feeling and Klaus releases a growl at the noise. 

Klaus releases my mouth as we both catch our breaths.

My eyes widen as I see that Klaus’ once blue eyes are now a bright gold, with dark veins under them. Without thinking I reach a hand up and cup his face, and using my thumb I trace the veins. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I whip around to see Theo wrapped in his fluffy robe with his phone to his ear glaring at Klaus and I, “I’ll have to call you back Jerebaby. My sister’s making out with a serial killer.”

Theo ends the call, stomps out of the house, and puts his hands on his hips sending glares to both Klaus and me. 

“Seriously?! Young lady, in the house now!”

I raise an eyebrow at Theo and he does the exact same.

I turn to say goodbye, or really anything to Klaus but Theo stops me.

“NUH-UH HOUSE NOW!”

I roll my eyes and with a huff, I stomp inside. 

Theo slams the door shut behind us and I whip around to him.

“Seriously, Theodore!?”

“Room now,” Theo yells and I glare at him.

“I’m older than you Theo, you can’t ground me.”

“Well, as the man of this house, I am.”

“You’re wearing a blue fluffy robe with bunny rabbits on it,” I deadpan as I look at my brother’s attire.

“AND?! ROOM NOW! We shall talk about this in the morning!”

I blink once at my brother before shaking my head and trudging over to my room. 

—

After taking a VERY cold shower I finally get to settle down with my lasagna. 

“Hello, Elskan.”

FUCKING SERIOUSLY

I whip around on my bed to see Elijah, who just magically appeared in the corner of my room. Yay. 

“Ya, hi, Elijah. No offense but I haven’t eaten anything at all today and almost getting killed by a one thousand-year-old witch really does something to the stomach. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to eat while you say whatever it is you’re going to say.”

I huff and then stuff a forkful of pasta into my mouth. 

“Of course, Elskan. Please don’t starve yourself. I’ll say my peace and then leave you.”

I hum to him as I pick a huge piece of pasta up with my fork and shove it into my mouth. 

“I am leaving Mystic Falls.”

I feel my lasagna lodge in my throat as I inhale.

I clutch my throat as I feel myself choking and try to cough up my food.

“Y/n!”

Elijah runs to my side and hits my back and I spit out the chunk of pasta onto my plate. 

With a shaky breath, I look up to Elijah who is staring at me, wide-eyed, “What the fuck do you mean you’re leaving?!”

Elijah shakes his head, “Are you alright?” I glare at him, “Elijah answer my question.”

Elijah eyes me for a moment before shaking his head and muttering something under his breath. He walks back over to the corner of my room and places himself on my desk chair. 

“I am leaving.”

I blink, “Ya… I got that.”

Elijah sighs, “What I did today was unforgivable. I went against my moral code and hurt not just you, but your friend. I betrayed your trust and threatened an innocent girl's life. I can never forgive myself. That is why I must leave. My siblings will stay here to make sure you stay safe, but…me being around will only cause more pain.”

“Are you serious?”

Elijah picks up his head to meet my glare. 

With a huff, I put my pasta, which is now cold, onto my side table, and stand up. With my hands on my hips, I walk over to Elijah and stand before his seated figure.  

“Elijah you are a grown man, act like it.”

Elijah’s eyes narrow at my words, “Excuse me?”

“You talk a big game about taking accountability but right now, that is the farthest thing from what you are doing. You made a mess, clean it up. Don’t run away just because you’re scared of the repercussions.”

Elijah stands up, and I inhale when I realize just how close we are now.

“I am not scared,” Elijah’s low voice sends shivers down my spine as he leans down to meet my eye level. 

I puff out my chest, “Is that so? Because all I see right now is a man who doesn’t go for anything he wants. Who is just letting everyone walk all over him. Elijah…you fucked up. But, running away is not going to change that. Own your mistakes, don’t hide from them.” 

Elijah’s nostrils flare slightly and he raises an eyebrow, “You think I don’t go for what I want?”

The challenge in his voice makes a warmth flow throughout my body, “Yes…”

As soon as the word leaves my mouth, Elijah raises his hand and grips my throat pulling me into him. A startled gasp leaves my throat but it is quickly muted by the pressure of Elijah’s lip on my own. My mind seems to be working a mile a minute as I try to understand everything that is happening right now. Elijah is kissing me. Kissing me. Elijah is kissing me, while his hand is wrapped around my throat. 

Kinky.

No, Y/n. Shut up. 

As soon as I start to piece together everything, the pressure of Elijah’s mouth and his hand are gone. I blink as I see Elijah look almost hurt. 

“You didn’t like that…I’m so sorry Elskan. I’ll go.”

Elijah’s words make me highly confused because I indeed liked what he just did.

“Why do you think I didn’t like it?”

Elijah’s eyebrows furrow, “You were distracted. I felt it. And you…,” He pauses and I see his cheeks turn a light pink. He’s nervous, “You didn’t kiss me back.”

Seeing Elijah’s hurt expression, mixed with his tinted cheeks pulls something out of me, and before I can stop myself I grab his tie and drag him over to me. As soon as he’s a few inches away I slam my lips onto his. 

A shocked grunt escapes his throat and then a moment later he’s grabbing both of my cheeks and pulling my face flush against his. Just like with Klaus, I try to fight for dominance but that is short-lived with the intense pressure Elijah is kissing me with. 

After a dizzying few minutes, Elijah unlocks our lips and rests his forehead against mine and I can’t stop the giggle that leaves me. 

“Friends definitely don’t do that.”

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

you know how you did bg3 types of yanderes, could you do that for castlevania? Like the trio and isaac, hector, dracula/lisa, carmilla, st. germain??

A/N: For reference, here is the one I did for BG3 villains, and here is the one I did for the BG3 Main Companions. Also, this is unedited as hell so if you see grammar mistakes, no you didn't. 

Castlevania Characters as Yandere! Types: 

Yandere! Trevor: 

Defensive. Calucative. Hardened. Trevor’s seen far worse than you, from humans and monsters alike. He knows the terror and the cruelty that lurks out there. He wants to shield you from it all, for as long as possible. He has this overwhelming need to prevent what happened to his family from happening to you. Even then, he knows your innocence won’t last; it couldn’t possibly. So long as you’re tied to him, you will know hardship. So as much as he babies you, and refuses to grant you complete independence, he is also distant, and frequently unaffectionate. In his line of work, people don’t die of old age; neither of you will be in the other’s life forever. Just let him love you the way he needs, when he asks for it, please. Everything else is so difficult in his life, you don’t want to add to that. Make yourself into the one piece of his life that is easy. And enjoy the easy while it lasts. 

Yandere! Sypha: 

Confident. Feisty. Unyielding. Sypha is always sure of herself. Everything she does, she does with 100% effort and full intent- your relationship is no different. From the moment she sees you, she’s sure she likes you, and she’s certain you like her. Any behavior that suggests otherwise on your part must simply be beginning relationship nerves. After all, she is a scholar and a Speak Magician. Her infectious optimism seeps out of her every pore. Her love for you knows no bounds, and she will not hesitate to throw herself into danger to prove it. I mean, she can conjure fire and ice instantaneously in her own two hands! Who wouldn’t want to be her partner?  Only some sort of complete and total asshole would try and turn her down, or worse, fight against her. She fights for what is right, and what is just. You wouldn’t fight against what’s just, would you? 

Yandere! Alucard: 

Intellectual. Sharp. Melancholic. Alucard is not a stranger to romance nor heartbreak. Losing the people closest to him has left him vulnerable, both emotionally and physically. Instead of processing his feelings, he bottles them up, until he can no longer bear their weight. He feels such pressure to remain composed, remain controlled, not animalistic, to go against the programming of half of his biology. At the same time, he is starving, desperate, and filled with an insatiable thirst for closeness. Such a complicated, disconsolate man, Alucard needs you to stay, more than anything. His life has been so lonely, and so hard; at times it feels like all he knows is loss and the cruel impossible whispers of desire. You need to stay. You need to choose him. He cannot take another heartbreak. It’s quite possible, given his role throughout history, that humanity wouldn’t survive another one of his heartbreaks either.  

Yandere! Isaac: 

Keen. Precise. Self-Righteous. Isaac has journeyed far on his quest for revenge, coming not only into a new land and new role but a new self as well. Gone is the former subservient, sacrificial lamb, who has risen into a stronger, wiser, seemingly benevolent king. Do not mistake this kindness for weakness, however. You must be either admirable or too kind-hearted to pose a genuine threat. Once you’ve caught his eye, prepare for an odd game of cat and mouse, you being the mouse of course. Isaac is not used to having friends, much less romantic companions. You must be patient as he learns the intricacies of your psyche. Surely, you must know he’s been analyzing it since you met? Be an honest, positive presence in his life, and he will keep you safe from all others who may do you harm. Treat him as the wise king he now sees himself as, and perhaps, he will ask you to be his queen. 

Yandere! Hector: 

Reclusive. Embittered. Suspicious. Hector has been forced to toughen up. Too late did he realize at the end of the road, that it is the people, not the zombies you command that can make or break a man. That is where you come in my dear. Following Lenore’s death, Hector’s purpose is up in the air, he is suddenly a puppet, free of its strings. He feels much wiser, but just as lonely. Hector cannot help but latch on to you, the first “normal” person to view him as human. He yearns for a simple quiet life, with a dog (a live one) and a partner to call his own. You’re perfectly plain, or perhaps, you’re just odd enough to make him look normal, and he relishes that. You have to understand that he can’t share much about his past. He can’t possibly tell you about his old life, no, no, no. He’s hiding it from you, hells, he’s hiding from it with you. He loves you dearly, he does. But he can’t trust you, not fully. A man with a history like his cannot truly trust anyone. 

Yandere! Dracula/Lisa: 

Nurturing. Captivated. Smothering. Dracula was not keen on humans before meeting Lisa; she bewitched him body and soul. And now the two of them have become enthralled by you. Dracula has learned the ‘other’ humans are not to be trusted, not with you, and certainly not with his wife. Lisa finds it unfortunate how she is no longer able to treat her former patients in Lupu, but she’s also incredibly thankful now that she has you to take care of! Ever the eager student, she still wants to learn so many things, and how wonderful of a practice dummy you are. Dracula is also eternally grateful that his wife will not be completely lonely; he knows how much helping her fellow humans means to her, and now that you’re here, Dracula no longer has to worry about keeping his wife (and by extension, you) to himself for eternity. 

Yandere! Carmilla: 

Prepared. Calculating. Cruel. Carmilla is a sadist at heart, there’s no denying it. She loves feeling the power she wields over all other people, humans, and vampires alike. For you to have caught her attention, surely you must be something special. Either you are particularly gifted in something she’s not (negotiations, necromancy, art, etc.) or you’re just so unbelievably precious, that she can’t help but want to steal you away for herself. She sees you as a possession, as a rare and beautiful gem, not a person. Even if she did ‘hear’ anything you had to say, she’d simply consider it further fodder to be used in manipulating you should it all come to that. She is not a woman who is denied, not by God, not by man, not by Dracula, and certainly not by you. Chin up, pet. Things could always be much worse. You could be thrown in the dungeons and left to rot. How lovely of Carmilla to instead treat you to more luxury than your kind could ever dare to deserve. For your continued safety, may I suggest showing a little gratitude? I mean it’s not like your life depends on it or anything. It does. 

Yandere! St. Germain: 

Wise. Inquisitive. Obsessive. St. Germain is a man who knows his mind. He knows a great deal about alchemy, and that alchemy, at the end of his days, will be his greatest work. That was of course, all before he met you. You opened up a whole side of him that he didn't know existed. Before you, his conquest was kings and courts; his acquaintances were mages and scholars! But now, in his effort to keep you from himself, you have become his conquest; his acquaintances are vampires and demons, all practitioners of dark magic. To him, it’s of little matter, so long as he can secure you, his one true love. To him, it’s the most important to have someone to share all his knowledge with, all that he’s achieved. To bask in the victory alone does not hold the same merit. He needs you at his side, he needs you to be invested in the great work. Without you, without your love, he fears he cannot achieve it. As such, he will do whatever it takes to get you by his side. And I do mean- whatever- it takes. 

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[nativegirltapes]

angel and drew while on a ......."break"......

notes: ask and you shall receive! angel lowkey look like a bitch in this + this is kind of long for hcs, but i think u guys like the drama so i really wanted to try and cover most bases. if you want me to clarify or maybe even make a part 2 lmk ! <3

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

honestly, they’re on “breaks” quite frequently due to angel’s impulsive nature. in the spur of the moment when she’s upset she’ll tell drew “don’t contact me! don’t talk to me! i need time!” and storm off in the car he’s literally paying for. sometimes he’ll try to follow after her, but sometimes if it’s something stupid she’s upset about, he usually just gives her time because he knows she’ll come around.

but when it’s an actual break from one another (because of all the odessa drama), they’re both going through it. angel is sad but is also taking more time to focus on school because she thinks it’s all she really has aside from drew. she isolates herself from almost everyone, besides frat guys she invites over to hopefully fill some void? which void? she’s not sure. she never actually does anything with them, kind of just trying to prove to herself that she can have anyone she wants and she doesn’t need drew. but how is that benefitting literally anyone? again, she’s not sure.

drew doesn’t really isolate when you’re on a break because he does enough of that on normal days. drew tries to spend more time with his friends, specifically his guy friends. he’ll invite them over or go over to their houses. his friends will ask how you guys are doing and drew never ever wants to paint you as a bad person, even when you are on a break for a “pointless” reason, he’ll just lie and say “she’s going through some stuff right now so we’re just kinda taking a break right now, you know?” he’s the sweetest to you, even when you’re not exactly together :((

they both have nights where they really miss each other so they’ll just call each other and ask if they want to see each other, they never say no. it’s kind of an unspoken rule for the both of them; if one calls saying they want to see the other, you can’t say no (but it’s not like they want to say no anyways). it’s so silly because whenever they do this it’s kind of awkward. they’re making small talk because they’re both too stubborn to make it seem like they “care” again. but eventually they both give in and it usually ends in a heavy makeout sesh. “this doesn’t mean we’re back together you know?”

angel is so petty so sometimes she’ll post pictures of her out and about (partying) on her instagram stories and purposefully have guys in her pics because she knows drew will see it. when she realizes that drew seen it but didn’t say anything she’s throwing a fit. but in all honesty, drew doesn’t even care that much. he knows angel’s tactics and knows that she wouldn’t dare do anything.

there’s a lot of late night phone calls where they usually get pretty deep, asking each other if they should just break up for good/a longer period of time. angel is always like “i want this to work drew.” and drew is like “i’m giving you the space you want. what more do you need?” he’s too sweet. angel is so messy though because she knows she has no intentions to break up with drew ever, she just loves causing a scene.

i feel like the worse drew would do when they’re on a break is hang out with one of his girl friends one on one. and while no, there’s no romantic intentions, he still would never tell angel that. he’s just able to decipher platonic and romantic whereas angel’s insane ass is not ………. kind of.

angel is shitposting on every platform she has, especially her finsta and tiktok. sometimes when she’s feeling extra fiesty she’ll even remove drew as a follower just so she can make him “overthink”, but because he’s an old man, he literally do not gaf! half the time it’s just her ranting or talking about her day since she’s used to sharing everything about her day with drew :(

[cyberapid]

Mom 2

ES Wheeljack x Cybertronian reader

She/Her pronouns used for reader

I might do a part 2 to this idk

i did do a part 2 :)

—•—•—•—•—

Twitch finds any time she gets to spend with Wheeljack enjoyable, even when he uses this sacred father-daughter time for work purposes. So, when he says he's going to be working just outside of Witwicky for a project she jumps to offer her help, begging not only him but her mom and dad to allow her to help– she is a very capable Terran after all. So, with both of her parent's permission she sets out with Wheeljack into the wooded outskirts of Witwicky to painstakingly push short stakes into the ground, they pulse blue at the very top but once they're covered, she and Wheeljack are the only ones to know of their location. Them and the little notebook she’d been given to jot the coordinates down, a very important autobot mission.

“So much for bonding time,”

The dirt takes the brunt of her anger as she kicks what’s in front of her, scuffing her pristine pede. She almost doesn't hear the crunching of leaves and twigs because of her sulking but the last branch broken was loud enough to snap her out of it, she turns expecting to see Wheeljack. Instead, there's an unfamiliar bot who's larger than her, and holding her arm, that is formed into a cannon, at the ready. Thankfully the femme hasn't seemed to have noticed her, leaving Twitch the ability to transform and fly up just out of sight.

The bot is leaking energon and dragging one leg limply, she’s clearly in pain. This twists Twitch’s spark and fills her with the urge to help but all she can think of is her parent’s disappointed faces and decides to find Wheeljack instead. So, she flies off into the forest, not as quietly as she should have though as the tree directly in front of her suddenly bursts into flame and char. Crap-

“I heard you! Show yourself, Con!” the voice is wavering but confident- Ok new plan, new plans are good. What would Bumblebee do?

“I'm not a con!” probably not that,

“Twitch?” Wheeljack's thickly accented voice is an instant relief as he comes through the woods, confused.

“Wheeljack!-” his name comes simultaneously from Twitch and the mystery Bot who walk towards him, throwing both of her arms around his shoulder pads.

“Sweetspark? What are you doing here,” his tone turns from confusion to worry at the sight of her leg, where energon is spilling from damaged fuel lines “By the Allspark! What happened?”

Their conversion turns hushed as Wheeljack adjusts his volume to the low one of the femme leaned against his chassis but Twitch still catches a few words as she creeps forward, important words being Cons and in the area. Overall, not good is what she got,

“Alright alright. Twitch were leaving before there’s any more trouble,” he’s transforming before she can get a word of protest in, revving his engine and taking off back towards her house after seeing both girls transformed and trailing behind him.

The drive is both quick and horribly slow because Wheeljack is speeding like she’s never seen before but also, she can’t help but try to inspect the leaking car that rides just behind him and rumbles anytime she gets too close to her side view mirrors. She can't help but scout just ahead of them to make sure there’s no unwanted bots in front of them before fly back towards the group,

“See anything, Kid?” Wheeljack's voice startles her from her near trance of flying back and forth from them.

“Nope, all clear up front!” Her voice contorts from the discomforting silence that continues to drag even as they finally drive up the familiar dirt road and see the red barn Bumblebee, Thrash, and herself call home. She quickly transforms back and checks the house, seeing all the lights are turned off and the barn doors are closed tight- everyone's asleep.

There's the creak of metal behind her and she turns to see Wheeljack, back in bot form helping to lift the form of the femme cybertronian who sways unsteadily. “You need to sit, let me look.”

“If I sit down, I don't think I'll be able to get back up,” the bot steadies her helm on Wheeljack's shoulder plate, their hands intertwined in a comfortable manner. It's a scene she's familiar with, loving, like her parents when they are extra romantic or just want to poke fun at their children.

Oh, No way

“You don't gotta get up. Just sit, please,” he’s easing her onto the ground before moving to look over her leg, securing the bleeding which leaves his servos stained blue. “It's not great but it'll do till I can get you back to a medic,” his tone is low and most likely not heard by the bot whose optics struggle to stay open, this was reassurance for himself.

“Who is this,” Twitch’s question startles Wheeljack almost as if he forgot that the young Terran was with them in the first place. “Is she your-”

What does her dad call her mom?

“-your mom? Like mom to your dad?” sounds good.

His optics go wide from this question– spot on. He sputters and there's an audible click as his vents kick into overdrive,

“Mom? No, no- She’s my Conjunx,.” he’s fussing with her damaged leg and trying his best to avoid Twitch’s stare, “So in a way, yes?” A sudden hiss causes their attention to turn to the Cybertronian, who slowly comes to.

She slaps Wheeljack’s servo away from her leg and clutches it. “You did good, so stop Jack. you're killing me,” her tone is sharp and her servos sharper as they turn a annoyed glance from him towards Twitch, gaze softening, “Twitch,”

“You know me?”

“How could I not,” she smiles as Twitch comes closer, settling herself nearly between the two, much to Wheeljack's chagrin.

“But I don't know you,” it's her turn to give Wheeljack an annoyed look which he returns,

“I was gonna introduce you two eventually, just needed to be the right time,” the barns paint chips and the wood creaks unsteadily as he suddenly leans his weight back onto it, rubbing his stained servos over his face plate before giving his digits a disgusted look as the blue stains part of his plate, “And I think it's safe to say this wasn't the right time. I don't even know why you were here,” he turns towards the femme, bewildered.

“We got word that Cons were in the area, no one could get ahold of you, so I went myself. No need to thank me.”

Her smile is weak but playful for a moment before dropping at the quick snark of Wheeljack, who doesn’t seem to catch the playfulness, “Wasn't planning on it”

Twitch watches their interactions but tunes their words out, opting to watch their desperate need for physical contact. The two are sending fierce glares to one another, their servos never untwine even when they are awkwardly twisted around Twitch’s much smaller form- Then it clicks, “You're like-”

“Don't-” Wheeljack's optics widen as he predicts what's gonna come from his daughter's intake and he reels with horror trying to cut her off,

“-my Mom2!”

“Mom?”

“We can have Mom2-Twitch bonding! Science is already Wheeljack and my thing so we can do something else! What do you like to do? Unless you like science too which I'm fine with more of- but I really like-” She continues even with Wheeljack trying to coax her to silence, but her excitement is infectious, and it brings a smile to your face plate.

[crazyoffher]

IMBECILE.

summary: billie's lack of attention toward you causes you to meet with a guy who tries to seduce you. then, does she finally give you attention.

warnings: smut (18+) — oral (r receiving), strap-on, dirty talk, jealousy, men, dom!b and sub!r, roughness, slight begging, slight angst, my writing.

word amount: 2900+

a/n: two posts in one day lesss gooooooo

“Baby, I think we should go.” You nudged Billie, who sat beside you and was too engrossed in her conversation with Claudia and Marinelli to have noticed your tired expression earlier. She turned to hear the sound of your voice, and you noticed how her eyes drooped slightly as well.

The party was a celebration event for one of Billie’s mutual friends from around four years prior, and you originally didn’t want to go. Maybe it was because of the dating rumors between Billie and this friend of hers at the time, but you blamed it on the lack of sleep due to your harsh job. Billie had begged you to accompany her, though, promising to leave around 11 p.m., but it was 1 a.m. and she was still sitting around the couch with her hand on your thigh.

“Ten minutes, please.” She begged you, ignoring your need for sleep as you had to go to work around seven hours later. You were ready to respond when Marinelli tapped on her shoulder, presumably to get her attention again, and she didn’t wait for an answer before indulging herself in the conversation she was previously in.

You sighed, your eyes drooping a little bit, and you knew that the earliest you’d be leaving was thirty minutes, not ten. Seeing a hand wave at you through your peripherals, you tilted your head to see Finneas waving you over from the barside, a drink set off to the side for you.

You moved Billie’s hand from your thigh, the girl seemingly not noticing, and you made your way over to Finneas, eyeing him tilt the drink toward the edge of the bar. You gave him a smile. “Love ‘ya, Finn.”

“Anything for my future sister-in-law.” You pushed his shoulder, taking the cup that was filled with ginger ale and wasting half the cup in one gulp. Bartenders and their ridiculous amounts of ice. “You tired?’

“A little bit,” you hovered your index finger over your thumb, giving him a visual to which he laughed at, “but Billie wants to talk to Marinelli and Claudia more, so I’m trying my hardest to not pass out.”

“I can give you a ride home if you want. Billie’s clearly not taking your own needs into mind.” Finneas offered. You waved him off, telling him it was fine and that you would just… sleep at your desk at work, finishing off the ginger ale and asking the bartender for a glass of water.

You and Finneas talked for a little, maybe five minutes, before he was hit in the head with a pingpong ball on purpose, a couple of his friends trying to catch his attention to get him to play. He turned to you, teeth flashing in a smile to try and get your permission to go, to which you just pushed him off the stool and he left you alone.

You loved Billie’s smile—a happy glint in her eye as she laughed at something Claudia said—but your admiration was disrupted when someone tapped you on the shoulder. Turning, you saw a man, 5’10 in height and dressed in all brown, giving you a smile and a tooth gem sitting on one of his front teeth. “Hey, pretty girl.”

He sat by you to your dismay, deciding not to retaliate at his comment. You were never good at dealing with guys (or girls) flirting with you; Billie usually handled it for you with an arm around the waist or a kiss to the cheek. “You’re dating Billie, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“Well,” he turned his head, eyeing Billie and seeing her engrossed in a conversation, “she’s not looking, and I think you’re pretty fine. What do you say to me and you in the upstairs bathroom? It’s pretty big and soundproofed, if you know what I mean.” He sent you a wink, and the urges to throw up on him and throw your cup at him met together in your mind.

“I think I’m good.” You scooted away from him slightly, but he only moved his bar stool closer toward you. The bartender delivered your water, but you didn’t want to drink it anymore. “You sure, girl? I mean,” he said, planting his hand on your thigh, in the same position Billie had her hand on, “I can give you the pleasure; I’m almost positive Billie doesn’t give you any-”

“Says who?” You flinched at the familiar voice, whipping your head behind you to see Billie sending the man a death glare. “You don’t know shit, Markus. Come on.” She grabbed hold of your upper arm in a fierce grip, pulling you out of the bar stool and out of the house entirely. Her decency was still there in her mind to open the passenger door for you, but not enough decency as she slammed it shut in rage.

“Billie-”

“No.” She said it simply, her voice awfully calm, and you wouldn’t have thought she was so mad if she didn’t have smoke fuming out of her ears. The drive home was silent. You had decided not to try to talk to her because it would only break out into a major argument.

“Why didn’t you tell him to fuck off? Go and fucking chop his hand off of your thigh?” Her voice rang in your ears as you made it home, walking up the steps to the front door, when you heard the venom that swam through her tone.

“Don’t you go and start blaming me for this.” You fought off her words, or at least tried to. “None of this would’ve happened if you just kept your promise, and we would’ve left two hours ago! But no, it’s fucking one a.m. and you decided to not care about my needs—shit, Billie, I have to leave for work in five hours!”

“Get inside.” She demanded, ultimately shoving you inside the house when you decided not to do what she said. She turned on the light that was beside the front door, illuminating the front of the house and parts of the living room as well. “Don’t you touch me like-”

“Take off your clothes.” The finger you pointed in her direction dropped, and your eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“Take off your clothes. I’m not gonna ask again.” Billie was already undressing, hanging her coat on the rack beside the door, and unbuttoning the dress shirt that you had requested she wear. Her hands traveled to her belt, unbuckling the leather fabric, and it was then that you snapped out of your trance. 

“No,” you hardly ever said no to her, and you said it for good reason. You were definitely into rough sex with Billie—more into it than anything else—but you knew that the more mature route was to talk out her rage, not fuck it out.

You knew you were right. Still, you couldn’t hold back the moan that left your mouth when Billie got you up against the wall. Her hand dug into your pants and underwear, her thumb slowly circling your clit with pressure that’d have you on the edge if she were to rub faster.

“No? Say that one more time for me, baby, and I’ll stop.” The hand that wasn’t cupped around your heat was unbuttoning your jeans button, giving her hand more mobility and allowing her fingers to dip down to your entrance. The tips of her fingers brushed against your hole, and you grinded against her hand in an attempt to get her to properly finger you.

“I’m not hearing you, love.”

“Don’t, d-don’t stop,” You stuttered out, your hands meeting her waist while you grinded into her hand. A smirk slithered it’s way onto her face, her index finger circling around your hole, making you whine out. She grabbed your hand from her waist and planted it against her crotch, your senses alerting you that she had a strap-on.

“You’ve had that on all night?” You met Billie’s gaze, immediately shrinking at how dark her look was. A smirk still sat on her face, and she licked her lips when you started to rub the silicone against your palm. 

“I planned on fucking you to sleep, but oh god, this is so much better. Isn’t it?” Her lips met yours, her hand leaving yours that was keen on rubbing her bulge and gripping the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into her as her movements on your clit fastened. You were a moaning mess, the sounds muffled by Billie’s tongue shoved into your mouth as she redirected the two of you to the couch, not once breaking contact.

You broke contact when Billie pushed you onto the couch. Her touch was more gentle compared to before, but you knew she still had steam to blow off. She settled in between your legs, her tongue licking at your hip while her hands moved to take off your jeans, her tongue moving down your right leg the further she took the fabric off of you.

The sight of you biting your lip, trying not to beg her while looking at her with doe eyes and your mouth agape, was something she would never tire of seeing. “You never fail to look so pretty—all mine and never anyone else’s.” Her voice contorted into a slight growl at the end, seemingly remembering why you were now submissive to her on the couch.

Despite the heat of the situation you found yourself in, a light blush tinted your cheeks at her praises, finding them sweet even if she was about to fuck your brains out.

“Now,” she crawled up slightly, her head inches away from your core and her hands gripping your hips where the hems of your underwear were, “I’ll show you the pleasure that fuckhead thinks I can’t give you, yeah?” You nodded vigorously, the two sharp, fang-like teeth that were biting down into your lip starting to draw blood as you waited for her.

Billie sat up, her ass resting on the balls of her feet as she took your underwear off, mouth salivating at the sight of your glistening core even in the slight darkness. Usually, she’d tease you and make you beg for her to put her tongue on your clit, but tonight she was too impatient and dove straight in.

Your hand flew to her hair, grabbing a bunch of it as you let out a rather loud moan at the feeling of Billie licking up and down your folds, the pressure of her tongue hardening as she’d flick over your clit. “Fuck!”

She removed her tongue from your clit, and you let out a distressed whine before letting out a shocked moan at the feeling of her thumb rubbing fast circles on your clit. Her tongue moved to your hole, licking around the area, making you buck your hips up against her face. You knew she was using her saliva as lubrication for the silicone, but it didn’t make the feeling any less pleasurable.

“Mmph, oh…” She ran her tongue over your entrance one more time before spitting on the area, and you’d hate to admit how hot the sight of that was. Your hips bucked up once more as she removed both her tongue and fingers from you, but you didn’t whine because you knew what was coming.

Billie pushed herself up on her elbows, leaning forward to capture you in a harsh kiss, and you could feel her hand travel to the silicone cock she had, not even aware she had taken her pants off. “Be a good girl for me and take all of it, okay?” She asked when her lips left yours, and you nodded with wider eyes than before while your teeth found your bottom lip again.

She crowded her face into your neck, bruisingly sucking on an area to make a hickey while she lined herself up against you. She bit your neck when she thrust her hips forward, filling you with half of the silicone, and you let out a pornographic (though true) moan at the feeling of the girthy, long cock stuffing into you.

“Shit, shit! Faster, please go faster.” You begged her; any self respect you had for yourself was thrown out the window when Billie thrust herself completely into you. Her attack on your neck continued while pumping in and out of you, starting out slow for your own sake but getting the memo to move faster when you hungrily humped against her cock, a desperate search for pleasure ensuing. 

She bit, nipped, licked, and sucked around the area on your neck before letting go with a pop, her eyes narrowing at the sight of a large, purple hickey right above your pulse point. She met your lips once more, and you barely kissed back from the daze you found yourself in, Billie’s hips now rocking back and forth impossibly fast.

“Oh, fuck. Look at you all wet and tight around me. My girl.” Billie purred, now sitting up on her knees, allowing her to capture your entire body in her line of sight. Your breasts jumped heavenly against the thin fabric of your shirt, and your head was thrown back, mouth open, because how else could you be letting out the moans that filled Billie’s ears better than any piece of music ever could?

“Shit!” You flung your head forward, strands of hair sticking to your face from sweat, and watched as Billie’s silicone moved in and out of you with ease. That feeling you knew all too well, one where a coil in your stomach was burning, had returned. With every thrust, you felt it was going to snap, and soon.

“God, how I’d love to add this sight of you,” Billie bent over slightly, her hand grazing your cheek and tilting your head to look up at her, “to my collection. How I’d love nothing more than to masturbate to a video of you writhing underneath me when I’m fucking you just like this.”

Billie videotaping the two of you being intimate wasn’t an uncommon experience, but she didn’t do it all the time. You allowed her to do it when she first asked you, and the sight of you in that moment, breasts on display and bouncing while your hair was messed up and covering your forehead, was a sight that Billie wanted to savor. And savor, she did that time, and another time, and another.

She originally brought the idea up because she missed you more than anything while on tour, meaning she missed your body and how you looked underneath her as well. So, when it was close to midnight and her brother and mother were out, she’d pull up the collection she made of you in her photos, and she’d happily finger herself at a video of you sucking off her silicone or getting rammed by it.

She stuck her thumb into your mouth, which you happily sucked on, biting down on it when you felt Billie hit that sweet, spongy spot inside of you. She groaned at the feeling of your teeth clenching around her finger because she was fucking you too well, and she could tell you were close to releasing when you started twitching.

“I know you’re close, baby, am I right?” Billie grabbed your left leg, pushing it up and over her ankle, allowing her to fuck you deeper and harder. You gasped around her finger, eagerly nodding at her words. You moved your right hand to brush the hair out of your face, holding yourself up slightly to watch as Billie slammed the silicone cock in and out of you with ease.

“Billie—fuck! I’m gonna cum; can I cum?” Desperation was more than evident in your voice, and you had been teased and forced to beg one too many times to the point where it was instinctive to ask for permission. Billie only grinned, resting the side of her face against your leg that was on her shoulder while she fucked into you, her eyes darkening as you held eye contact with her. “Billie, please!”

You felt the vibrations of her laugh travel throughout your leg, and you found yourself struggling to hold off the release you desperately wanted. With a bite of her lip, her eyes explored throughout your body, starting from her hips driving into yours up to your face, impatience clear in your narrowed eyes.

“You’ve been good. Cum for me, baby.” That was the only agreement you needed to loosen up, your orgasm hitting you hard from the delay, having you shaking and twitching under Billie. She pumped slowly in and out of you to help you ride out your orgasm, her mouth salivating at the white substance that coated her silicone. She ran her index finger through your wet pussy before taking the collected cum and putting it into her mouth, sucking off your sweet juices considering pineapple was your favorite fruit.

With her adrenaline running out, Billie fell on top of you, her hands holding your waist while yours dug back into her hair, this time softly scratching her scalp. The silicone cock was still inside of you, and every slight movie Billie made had you twitching slightly, though you weren’t horny anymore.

With a yawn, you rested your head back on the couch, letting out content breaths. “You think I should call out of work today?”

“If I can keep you like this,” Billie’s arms fully wrapped themselves around your waist, her face burying into the cloth of your shirt, “then definitely.”

☟ ☟ ☟

(billie) taglist: @grandpatrolnut @annalestern @rhythm-catsandwine @jennas-10

[runnning-outof-time]

A (Debatably) Lovely Dinner | Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader

Summary: (Y/N) has her family over for a dinner that she worked so hard to prepare. Her father and uncles tell her that it tastes lovely...but are they actually thinking that?

Warnings: drinking, language

Word Count: 1773

A/N: this is the first daughter!reader fic I’ve written in a bit - I hope it’s good. I’m excited to be writing requests again! Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories!

(Y/N) wrang her hands together as she looked over all of the pots that were currently boiling on the stove. She took a breath and let it out slowly, trying to compose herself and shake the nerves from her body.

"You're doing great, love. It's going to be a good meal," her husband, James, offered some encouragement as he came up behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed a kiss to the side of her head as he pulled her into his chest.

"Maybe I should have accepted the catering offer? There's a lot of people coming over," she expressed her worry, eyes still focused on the pots. She then began to wonder why she even agreed to hosting her family in the first place.

"This is going to be extra special because you made it all," he told her, kissing her temple once more before letting her get back to work. "And your cooking is wonderful," he complimented her, sending a smile her way as she turned to look at him.

She smiled back, although it wavered due to the nerves she was still feeling, watching as he exited the kitchen before she got back to work.

(Y/N) was bringing the final dish to the dining table two hours later. She smiled at everyone who was waiting patiently for dinner to start and took a deep breath as she moved to stand behind her husband's chair.

"James and I would like to thank everyone for coming tonight. I hope that you enjoy what I've prepared for you to eat," she gave a small speech, her nervous smile still present as she then sat down.

"Let's eat then, eh?" Tommy suggested, smiling at his daughter from the opposite end of the table. He was proud of her for this vast spread that she'd managed to cook up. It smelled wonderful to him.

Comments of agreement came from around the table as everyone began taking dishes and spooning helpings of the food onto their plates. (Y/N) watched as this happened, wanting to make sure all was well; filling her plate last.

Dinner began quietly, the sounds of forks hitting plates the only thing to be heard. (Y/N) couldn't help but sneak a few glances around the table, wanting to see if there were any problems. All looked fine to her.

Somehow, she didn't manage to catch her uncles, John and Arthur, throwing sideways glances at each other in between each bite they took. Something about the taste seemed off to them. Whether it was the seasoning on the roast, or the choice or cut of the vegetables, the food wasn't exactly pleasurable to eat.

But the pleased look on their niece's face told them that she was happy to have the family over, eating a dinner that she worked so hard to prepare. They couldn't even think of ruining things for her by bringing up the fact that her cooking was well under par.

And besides, Tommy seemed to be fine with eating it, and he never ate anything.

Dinner continued and small talk was made. The usual discussion of business between the Shelby family had been swapped for stories of the past and the men making arrangements for their annual hunting trip that was fastly approaching.

All was well until (Y/N) decided to ask the table for opinions on the food. "How has everyone been enjoying the food?" She wasn't sure if she was being too upfront in asking for opinions, but no one had offered any prior to her question, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't dying to know their thoughts.

"Lovely as always, darling," her husband, James, was the first to share his thoughts on it, sending her a smile as he cut himself another piece of the roast.

"Thanks, James," she smiled back at him before looking out to the rest of the table. No one else's eyes met hers; their gazes cast down on their plates. Maybe that means they really like the food, she thought to herself. "Dad?" she asked after a few moments had passed. Tommy looked up at her, his brows raised as if to say 'what?' "What do you think?" she asked, curious to know what his thoughts on the meal were.

"It's good, love," he told her, nodding as he grabbed his glass of whiskey, "really good."

"Thank you," she chirped in response, feeling extremely pleased with herself. She grabbed her fork and knife then and went to cut a piece of the roast.

"Well I think that..." another comment started to come out, but it was abruptly stopped. "What the bloody hell was that for?" the voice belonged to Linda Shelby, and she was now glaring daggers at her husband, Arthur. Arthur had his brows furrowed as he glanced between his wife and (Y/N), a bit of an uneasy expression present on his face. "Spit it out, Arthur," she snapped in a harsh whisper. Arthur said nothing of sustenance though, instead just shaking his head and muttering "don't," under his breath.

"Were you going to say something, Linda?" (Y/N) asked, her curiosity peaked as she focused on the blonde woman.

Linda shared one last look with her husband, who was still discreetly shaking his head, before she plastered a smile on her face and turned to look at the younger woman. "I was just going to say that...that...this is a lovely dinner, (Y/N)," she finally shared her opinion on the cooking, although it may not have been originally what she wanted to say. (Y/N) took it though, a smile breaking onto her features.

"Aww thanks so much, Linda. I was so worried about this dinner. I'm so happy to hear that everyone is enjoying it," (Y/N) expressed her previous worries with the group, earning a chorus of 'no it was good’ comments in response.

Overly pleased with herself now, (Y/N) was smiling from ear to ear as she continued eating her dinner. Just wait until they try the dessert, she thought to herself, pride flowing through her.

The Shelby men followed James into his study after the dessert plates had been removed from the table. (Y/N) had decided to take the women around for a tour of her new home, a tour which the men felt they didn't need to join. All five of them had a glass in their hand, and they were seated on the chairs that were positioned around the mantle.

"I don't know how you do it, James," Arthur said with a sigh as he brought his glass back to his lips. He took a drink and then let out a sigh after swallowing it.

"Do what?" James was confused by the older man's statement.

"Eat (Y/N)'s food daily," Arthur didn't beat around the bush. "I mean, she's me neice and I love her, but the food she cooks is fucking terrible."

James nodded slowly in response to Arthur's statement, a knowing look present on his face as he looked like he was fighting a smile. He then took a look at Tommy, checking the waters before sharing information about the daughter of a man who could do some nasty damage if he said the wrong thing. He wasn't surprised to see his father in law looking at him.

"Well how do ya do it?" John broke the silence, signaling to the other man that he'd been taking too long to respond.

"She's my wife," he began, a smile forming on his face, "I've learned to love every part of being with her."

"Ah you've gone soft, lad," Arthur couldn't help but chuckle at the response he got before he set his sights on his brother, "and you, Tom…how do you do it, brother?"

Tommy laughed to himself as he heard the question. He brought his whiskey up and took a sip, pausing for a moment longer before finally answering the question: "guess it grows on you." His response was simple, and he followed it with a shrug.

"You both have not a clue what you're talking about," Arthur commented with a shake of his head, "John, help me out here. It's nothing against (Y/N)...her food's just downright terrible, right?" he looked to his younger brother for some back up.

"Right," John nodded, raising his glass in agreement.

"Good man," Arthur praised his brother for answering in line with him.

"I think her cooking's good," Finn chimed in from where he was sitting by the fire.

"You wouldn't know what's good for ya, Finn," Arthur dismissed his youngest brother's opinion. Finn shook his head and looked at the fire, wondering why he decided to add his two cents in the first place.

Silence fell in the room then, and James couldn't help but keep thinking about his response to Arthur's question. It made him chuckle as he realized that maybe he hadn't been completely truthful with what he had said.

"What's funny?" John asked, catching the other man's laugh.

All eyes were on him in an instant. He could tell by their intent gazes that he wouldn't be able to get out of this one. "Nothing...it's just that," he paused, letting out a breathy laugh as he shook his head, "I will admit that her cooking has been harder to learn to love than the rest of her," he shared what he'd been thinking.

John and Arthur immediately began laughing, both happy that they'd gotten the young man to break and share his actual thoughts on their niece's cooking. They knew that he felt the same as they did just by the vague response he gave earlier, but hearing it cemented the victory.

"It took me a while too. You'll get there," Tommy cut through the laughter of his brothers to offer his son in law some advice. James smiled at Tommy, happy to know that maybe he'd be able to get used to it, just like his father in law had.

(Y/N) was sitting with the rest of the women in the front room. She'd become quiet, letting the others continue their conversation about the latest fashion trends. She had too much on her mind.

A smile was present on her face as she thought back to the dinner, and all of the lovely comments she received from her family. Giddiness bubbled up inside of her as her mind went to thinking about what she would cook for their next family dinner. She couldn’t wait to have them over again!

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[nobodyfamousposts]

What if Chloe had lost her memories of her old life after making the wish in Chloe's Lament? If so, would she remotely be nicer given not being rich means her father has less reason to spoil her? Or would she still be mean anyway even with her memories gone, implying she may just be born evil?

Yes but also no? It's a bit complicated so please let me explain:

If Chloe's Lament didn't happen and Chloe was the Chloe of the reality in question, things would pretty much be the same way they are for her in the Lament. The difference would be how Chloe herself handles it since she's fully aware of her position in this life going in without any memories from an alternate self getting in the way.

Andre is still Andre. He is a pushover and loves his little girl. He WANTS to give her whatever she wants, so it's not that he has less reason to spoil her and more that he simply CAN'T, at least not to the extent she wants. Think to the setup in canon where he was able to buy Chloe a golden bracelet and a diamond-filled phone case, fire Roger when he upset Chloe, arrange the closure of an ice rink to build a gym for her, and shut down Clara's music video on her demand...but ended up in an outright panic when he told Chloe that he couldn't banish Marinette and her family from the city, something he legitimately could not do. Not for lack of wanting to. Just that he can't.

That's pretty much the position he'll be in here. He loves Chloe and he WANTS to give her her every desire, but he's not rich or powerful this go around and he has no weight to throw, no money to spend, no influence to use, and no status or backing to protect himself or Chloe from the repercussions of her antics.

But this ask isn't about him, I know. I'm just trying to give perspective here.

Andre would still spoil her...at least as much as he could. And you have to bear in mind that he is trying to make up Chloe's lack of a present mother while also running a functional and decently well off but not outstanding business. He would deny her things she wants because he can't give her everything she wants.

But the Chloe of this world would know that. And since she never had the wealth and power that Canon Chloe has, she wouldn't expect all the things that Canon Chloe did when waking up in her position.

This is actually what makes the primary difference. I have said before that it is fully possible for the characters who make the Wish to end up happy in their Lament, and while I'm sure many of you doubt me or think I only apply that to Marinette, I meant it for everyone.

See, the main thing that makes this a Lament isn't the position of the Chloe in this world but in how Chloe HANDLES it. Canon Chloe is going to try and handle it like Canon Chloe handles anything, and it's going to fail because her expectations are based in a setup that she cannot understand no longer applies and her go-to methods require resources and protections that she doesn't have here.

THIS Chloe is going to handle it differently. Her expectations are already more down to earth than Canon Chloe to begin with. And by the time the events of the story start, she's going in with the knowledge that she is on thin ice and some change needs to occur if she doesn't want to lose everything she has left.

Chloe by this point is the bastard child of "Style Queen Audrey" and is just as acknowledged by her as she was in canon if not less, so she's still dealing with abandonment issues while trying to endear herself to her mother however limitedly she can. She still has Adrien as a friend but knows that's hanging on by a thread as well (her friendship with him was mostly through Andre's friendship with Emilie and she's gone now, and Gabriel himself is not that impressed with her). She has Bustier's support and is still able to go to the school, but she's on probation with the administration watching her. And her father is working desperately to get her out of consequences for her previous behaviors. So if she messes up again, she's going to lose all of that.

So yes, in that sense, this Chloe is going to be "nicer". She has to be. She is trying to change her behavior in order to avoid a bad situation. To try being "kind" and "helpful" when she's still very much a selfish and angsty teenager who doesn't get why she should. "Nice" and "Good" are two different things, after all. Though that's not to say that she'll be very good at either.

This change in behavior is difficult for her. Change usually is. But practice makes perfect, right? So that's why Chloe starts trying to do things she normally wouldn't. Like helping her father in the bakery. Planning a box of goodies for her classmates to try and make peace for the next school year.

And yes, help out an old man on the street.

However, there's another aspect to consider here.

After all, in this universe, Chloe and Adrien are childhood friends. And Adrien and Marinette are childhood friends, too.

So wouldn't it stand to reason that Chloe and Marinette were also childhood friends as well?

...

...

IF I wrote this setup as its own story sans the Wish and Lament, we'd be dealing with a story of Chloe growing out of a negative mindset, addressing her inner fears that drive her actions, and improving her life and her relationships. All while dealing with the stress and responsibility of being a hero. And just the clash overall of the difference between who she is as Chloe vs who she is as the Ladybug Hero.

As Marinette in Canon pointed out, "Ladybug has made me a better Marinette. So, perhaps being Queen Bee will make her a better Chloé, too!"

That's what happens here.

Chloe KNOWS she's not a good person. She'd even convinced that a mistake was made when she was chosen. But being a hero lets her do good more easily under a mask where no one has preconceived feelings or expectations of her. It would be freeing in a way. And give her the positive reinforcement she needs.

But the biggest issue would be dealing with her toxic mindset and how it led to her situation and strained relationships. Which would be what the course of the story is meant to address. Chloe in this world doesn't understand what "healthy" or "healthy relationships" are anymore than Canon Chloe does. But she's getting a crash course in the matter while also receiving guidance courtesy of Tikki.

Ultimately, this Chloe would have more of a chance than Canon Chloe.

She wouldn't go into this looking to take advantage and cause harm the way that Canon Chloe did.

She would be a selfish teenager learning to be a little less self centered and a little more aware of her impact on others.

[wzrd-wheezes]

Not Half Bad - Marauders x Reader

AN - I'm a few minutes early but happy valentine's day, my loves. I wanted to post something that wasn't crazy romantic because I know today can be pretty lonely. So, enjoy some platonic marauders x reader fluff. This is my first time writing anything like this so please let me know what you think. 1.7k words.

Y/N startled awake, her head throbbing and her eyes swollen from tears. She groaned softly, feeling the weight of exhaustion as she rubbed her face, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Then, the unmistakable sound echoed through her apartment again.

Bang, bang, bang. 

With a resigned sigh, Y/N muttered curses under her breath before she shuffled towards the front door. The harsh hallway light made her squint as she opened the door, taking a moment to register the trio standing before her. 

“Come on, you. Out of the way, we’ve got some serious work to do!” James declared, gently nudging Y/N aside to enter her apartment, with Remus and Sirius following close behind. 

“What the hell are you doing? It’s practically the crack of dawn!” She exclaimed; her voice still thick with sleep. 

“Oh, yeah? And you’d know what time of day it was, would you?” Sirius teased, theatrically throwing open her curtains, allowing light to flood into the room for the first time in days. 

“We’re on damage control. Y’know, since we haven’t heard from you in almost a week.” Remus explained, heading straight into the kitchen and flicking the kettle on. 

Y/N sighed heavily, feeling a pang of guilt for having shut off herself off from her friends after her recent break up. The end of her relationship had hit her harder than she had ever anticipated, leaving her feeling raw and vulnerable. She hadn’t felt up to facing her friends properly. She had shot them a quick message briefly explaining the situation before shutting off her phone and finding solace in her own company as she grappled with the emotional fallout.  

Remus busied himself in the kitchen while he waited for the kettle to boil. He had a tea towel swung over his shoulder as he started washing the dishes that had been piling up in the sink. James was getting the living room straight, opening windows, clearing up the endless piles of scrunched up tissues and fluffing up the sofa cushions.  

“You don’t have to do all this – I'm fine!” Y/N protested. 

“Stop fussing and just let us help you,” Sirius chimed in, poking his head around the doorway from where he was in the bathroom, “Now, get in here because I’ve just run you a bath.”  

Y/N’s protests died on her lips as she relented, allowing herself to be guided into the bathroom by Sirius’s firm but caring insistence. The soothing scent of lavender filled the air as she stepped into the room. Sirius shut the door behind her, allowing some privacy. He had set her some fresh towels and clean clothes on the side, even going as far as to light a few candles. Y/N let out a sigh as she sank into the tub, the warm water washing over her tired body. 

After a while, Y/N emerged from the bathroom feeling a bit lighter. She smiled at the three boys, appreciating their practical gestures of support. They had practically cleaned her whole apartment while she was in the bath. It had taken a bit of a hit in the week that she had been moping around. Remus had set her a steaming mug of tea on the coffee table, and she took it into her hands eagerly. 

“Feeling better?” he asked, patting the spot on the sofa next to him. 

“Much better. Thanks for the rescue” she smiled at each of them, “I owe you guys one.” 

“Nonsense.” James dismissed with a wave of his hand, “That’s what friends are for. Plus, I’ve been dying to bring out my superhero cape.” 

Remus snorted into his tea, “Superhero cape? More like a tea towel tied around your neck, mate.” 

“Hey, it’s all about the dramatic effect, Moony. You should try it some time.” James mock-glared at him. 

“I’d pay good money to see that.” Y/N laughed. 

“You nearly did!” Sirius remarked, “I literally had to pry it from around his neck before you got out of the bath.” 

Y/N burst into laughter at the mental image, shaking her head in amusement, “I can only imagine the heroic struggle.” She said, grinning at James, who rolled his eyes with a good natured sigh. 

“Yeah, well, it was a valiant effort on his part,” James admitted, earning a playful elbow jab from Sirius.  

It was the first time in a good week or so, that Y/N had laughed properly. She felt her spirits lift with each passing moment, the heaviness that had weighed in her heart for the last week beginning to fade. Their light-hearted banter and playful antics had a way of lifting her spirits, offering a welcomed distraction from her recent troubles. It was only when the boys stood up to leave that the empty feeling in the pit of her stomach started to return.  

Sirius noticed her face fall when they started getting ready to leave, each of them shrugging on their coats and slipping into their shoes.  

“Don’t worry, we’re coming back.” Sirius reassured her. 

“Yeah, you didn’t think that you could get rid of us that easily, did you?” Remus chuckled. 

“We’ve just got to nip out to get some stuff but then we’ll be back.” James promised. 

“What stuff?” she questioned.  

“Ask us no questions and we’ll tell you no lies.” James quipped, playfully tapping her on the nose before swiftly exiting.  

A bemused smile played on her lips as she watched her friends disappear. Although they had only been around at her flat for a few hours, it felt eerily empty now that they had gone. Collapsing onto the sofa, she reached for her phone, hesitating before finally switching it on after days of deliberate avoidance. There was the expected flurry of messages from her friends and family checking in on her and she made a mental note to reply to them later on. She quickly deleted a particularly nasty text from her ex before she gave herself chance to read it properly. As the screen blinked back up at her, the date glared back with unexpected significance.  

Valentine’s Day. 

The realisation hit her and stirred up memories and emotions that she had been trying to suppress. She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of loneliness as she thought back to past Valentine’s Day spent with her now ex-partner. For a moment, she regretted even switching on her phone; ignorance might have been bliss on a day like today. Tears prickled in her eyes and she bit down on her lip in a futile attempt to hold back the flood of emotions.  

Just as she had been earlier that morning, she was brought back to reality by the door of her apartment swinging open and James, Remus and Sirius bustling back inside.  

“Told you we wouldn’t be long!” James said brightly, though the look soon dropped from his face the second his eyes fell on Y/N. 

“Oh, no! What’s happened? Everything okay?” Sirius rushed over and crouched in front of her, so his face was level to where she was slumped on the sofa. 

“It’s silly,” she sniffled, “I turned on my phone because obviously I’ve been avoiding it for ages and I saw the date. It’s just... overwhelming.” 

Remus moved to sit beside her, his presence a comforting anchor as he place a hand on her shoulder. 

“It’s not silly at all, Y/N. Valentine’s Day can be shit. Especially after everything you’ve been through.” he said softly, offering her a sympathetic smile. 

James signed, rubbing the back of his neck as he stepped closer, “We came over today because... well we didn’t want you to spend Valentine’s Day alone. We didn’t realise that you didn't even know what day it was. We’ve kind of fucked up really, haven’t we?”  

“Don’t be daft.” Y/N wiped the tears away with her sleeve, “You’ve already cheered me up so much just by being here.” 

“Let’s not stop now then, eh?” Sirius said, patting her affectionately on the head as he stood up, “We’ve got plenty more planned for this evening. Why don’t you go get yourself freshened up while we get set up in here?” 

Y/N smiled gratefully and obliged, making her way to the bathroom. She splashed her face with cool water, letting it wash away the remnants of tears that clung to her skin. As she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she forced a smile onto her face in an attempt to make herself feel better. She quickly ran her hands through her hair and smoothed out the wrinkles in her clothes. 

In the other room, the boys had sprung to action. James rummaged through the bags of shopping, his brows furrowed in concentration as he set about preparing dinner. Remus, ever the organiser, rearranged the furniture to create a cosier and more comfortable set up for them. Sirius, with his flair for the dramatic, set about lighting candles and pulled an assortment of decorations from his bag to add a festive touch to the occasion. 

As Y/N stepped out of the bathroom, her eyes widened in surprise at the transformation that had taken place in the living room. The warm glow of candlelight danced across the walls, casting soft shadows across the room. Tears of gratitude welled in her eyes and with a shaky breath she made her way to join them. 

“Speechless, huh?” Sirius joked gently, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. 

Y/N managed a watery smile, “I don’t even know what to say.” 

“Nothing needs to be said.” James stepped in from the kitchen, floral apron tied around his waist.  

“Just know that we’ve got your back always, yeah?” Remus chimed in.  

With a grateful nod, Y/N settled into her seat at the table, feeling a sense of peace wash over her.  

“Nice apron, James.” Y/N teased, unable to contain her laughter.  

“What can I say? Real men wear floral.” he quipped, setting down plates of food in front of each of them.  

“Ah! I almost forgot!” Sirius stood up quickly from the table and disappeared into the other room.  

He returned a few moments later, holding a bouquet of flowers. He presented them to her with a flourish. Y/N gasped in response. 

“You really didn’t have to!” she protested, her voice filled with gratitude, “You’ve already done so much for me today!” 

“We wanted to.” Remus smiled. 

“Besides, we’d be pretty crappy mates if we let you go a whole Valentine’s Day without flowers.” Sirius chuckled. 

“Yeah, it’s practically a cardinal sin to neglect such an important tradition.” Remus nodded in agreement.  

“See? We’re not completely useless, are we?” James nudged her, grinning. 

“Nah, you’re not half bad.” she beamed back at them, “I might even go as far as to say that you’re the best.” 

[devoutekuna]

An obsessive baby

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

A/N- Because I watch ultraman: rising <3

Sukuna-

Despite how many times he says he hates children, people alone. He'd never actually hated her, she was so clingy towards him, making it clear who she preferred out for you two. Leaving the house to get some food, left his daughter alone with you for only a few hours, yet they would be a nightmare, refusing to eat. Crying every second without a picture of her father or a comfort toy. "Daddy!" Running up to him with tears into her eyes, hands gripping onto his clothes in the hopes he'd hold her. "She missed you all day Ryo'" motioning towards your baby girl. "I can tell" picking up the girl to stop her cries, normally he wasn't the type to comfort someone, but when it came to his daughter, he'd do it anyday.

Nanami-

"Please don't leave me daddy" watching the man as he put on his shoes, she had hidden his tie in hopes that her father wouldn't go to work so that he could play with her, but he was always prepared, having an extra all the time. "I've got work sweetheart." Tying up his shoelace. "But you said you'd play with me!" The duo had been up all night playing with her ducks, he was exhausted and wanted to head back to sleep, yet he had work. "We played at breakfast". Stomping her feet on the ground. "How about you go play with mummy?" Pointing towards you in the kitchen, fortunately she looked away giving him the time to escape through the front door.

Geto-

Suguru's daughter adores her father more than anything, despite carrying her for 9 months, she pained no mind to you, always rushing towards her father whenever he was in eyeshot. Pools filling in her eyes as your husband walked towards the kitchen. He had just been with the little girl for the past 45 minutes, he was tired and wanted something to eat, yet his daughter was crawling towards him, desperately trying to grasp onto him. "I'm not far baby" kissing her forehead as she held onto him, trying to get herself into the midst of his layered clothes. "Can you hold her babe?" Pushing the girl off him and towards you. "She'll keep on crying Suguru" picking the baby up only for her to cry even more.

Gojo-

"Another game!" Hitting the man with the wooden baseball bat. "Another game!" Repeating the same two words towards his father, somehow he had exhausted his father with playing baseball, despite him only throwing the ball. "I've got to go do something!" Running Infront of the man. "No, come play with me!" He was about as stubborn and rebellious as him. "I've got work" he was Satoru Gojo for goodness sake, he could skip anyday of work. "You promised!" Hitting the man with the bat, unfortunately he was caught off guard and couldn't activate his infinity in time, hitting his slender legs, bound to cause a bruise. "Stay!" Holding onto the man's leg.

Toji-

Toji slept anywhere, he preferred sleeping on the rug despite the bed or sofa being right there. Somehow he found out that his daughter's rug would be the best to sleep on, resulting in the man in her bedroom, practically taking up the full floor, fortunately his daughter didn't mind, joining the man on the floor as she laid ontop of him, in the hopes to get into his embrace since he was too big to walk around. "No!" Kicking and screaming as you tried to pick her up to give her some space. Kicking the man. "Get up Toji" he was a light sleeper fortunately so he woke up almost immediately. "Put me down" "no because you should be in bed, not trying to sit on your father." Kissing your teeth at both of them, kicking the ,and again. "Ow! I'm up lady" rolling over to face you. "Daddy!" Pushing out of your embrace to get into her father's.

[aggieharkness]

Forever and Always

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x reader

Summary: No one warns you about how dark the abyss at the cliff's edge can be, how hard it would be to hold on to the rocks as they kept falling around you, the weight on your shoulders nearly too much for you. No one ever does, yet she never failed at saving you from dying under it all, her warm embrace like a protection spell.

Warnings: overworked reader, burnt out, screaming, swearing, self-harm. I don't think I need to add anything else here.

Authors note: I read your post @madamspellmans-met-tet and I thought of writing this. I hope that it is what you had in mind and that it helps your friend find comfort :) If there is anything at all that you don't like, tell me and I'll change it, I wouldn't want to write something hurtful. I hope you like it.

Forever and Always

Rereading the message that had popped up on your phone you just couldn’t believe it. The bright light shone inside the cabin of Lilia’s old car, which she allowed you to borrow so you could get to work and your classes, your eyes going over the words three times before you let your head fall onto the steering wheel nearly making the horn go off. You could feel the tension increasing in every single muscle of your body, the pressure that had been inside your sinuses and the dull nausea that you had carried all day suddenly feeling as if they could wipe you out, frustration filling up every cell down to atomic levels, but you just couldn’t let it pass, it had to be finished tonight, no matter what. Unlocking your phone, you answered Amanda and told her that it was fine, that you could finish her part of the project and send it before twelve tomorrow, but in your mind you were cursing her and her ancestors and her ancestors’ ancestors and beyond. You knew she wasn’t sick, a friend you had in common had told you that she was going down to a party in New York and she would stay there for like three days or so. You could have told her to go and fuck herself but she hadn’t done shit in the past month, and the project needed to be handed out the next day, so you had to stay up all night now, maybe even beg your teacher to let you hand in the assignment one day late and pray that he didn’t deduct points because of it. And on top of that you had to do a double shift down at the coffee shop tomorrow because one of the girls had to have emergency surgery after a skiing accident and you were even more short staffed.

Your fingers were twitching when you picked up your bag from the passenger’s seat, throwing it over your shoulder as you pushed the door open and stepped out into the cold night, your breath steaming up in puffs that twirled up in the air as you locked the car. Your body ached, every bone seemed to hurt, and your throat itched so bad that you had had like three gulps of cough syrups and at least one Tylenol about six hours ago to try and get rid of it, to no avail. Resting your back against the car you closed your eyes for a moment. You were not ready for the disappointed look that Lilia was going to give you the instant you stepped into the shop, but your manager had practically ordered you to lock up tonight and you had had to label also the new arrival of milks and cookies in the freezer, which turned the extra hour into two and a half. You had been supposed to get home at seven and it was now close to ten, and you had hardly been able to tell her that you were going to be late, just a single message that’s she had left on read. With a heavy sigh you crossed the street from the car to the front door, pulling out your keys and pushing the glass open until the warmth of the heating system embraced you, but it didn’t relax you as much as you had expected, you still felt as if you were absolutely freezing. Noises were coming from the back, the clutter of dishes you thought, stopping for a moment when the bell that hung from the ceiling rung melodiously before they returned, unbothered by your entrance it seemed.

In normal circumstances you would have thrown your bag next to the door, not giving two shits, but you needed the books and notes that you had in there, so with heavy steps you made your way to the beady curtain, gently moving it aside, finally arriving home. Lilia was washing the dishes, her back to you. Seeing her body moving as she scrubbed hard, her shoulders square and obviously tense as she worked you wondered if maybe she was mad at you, but there wasn’t really anything you could do when you had to stay late, it was that or unemployment, and you needed the money to pay for college, so there really was no reason why she should be angry. At least you had bothered to warn her this time. But even if she was pissed at you she was far too alluring, and your eyes could not stop watching the way those veiny hands held onto the sponge and plate hard, knuckles nearly white, the way her gown held onto her curves gently as her robe had been discarded over the back of a chair, the flowy material swaying around her bare feet as she rinsed and left the plate on the drying rack. In the air a salty smell lingered, your stomach rumbling at it but the nausea that was still clinging to your insides seeming to disagree with how hungry you felt, the thought of food both appealing and at the same time a horrible idea, though your train of thought derailed when you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket, the quiet moment you were having shattered. Fucking Amanda again you saw, a new text telling you that she was very sorry and that she would make it up to you which you knew was bullshit, followed by a new message saying that Tom, another person you were doing this assignment with, could not finish his part either as he was sick with the same thing she had. Was that code for I’m taking him to New York to fuck him? She had to be kidding.

You were quick to respond, eyebrows furrowed as you typed an answer, telling her that you weren’t sure if you could handle it all, but she retorted that Tom would end up in the hospital if he did any work. Was she for real? Did she think you lived under a fucking rock or something, that you didn’t talk to people? Apparently so, because she finished by saying that she was going to be sick from all that talking and went offline. You hadn’t noticed how Lilia had turned around and was staring at you, drying her hands with a tea towel, the frown that had adorned her forehead turning into worry when she saw your pissed off face as you furiously typed. She hadn’t noticed how pale you were looking, or how deep the bags under your eyes were, but then again you applied so much make up in the morning that it was nearly impossible for her to have noticed when she woke up, perhaps five minutes before you were due to leave for work. She had seen you sick several times in all the time you had been together, but she had never seen you look so run down before, and that worried her. The frustration you were feeling was reaching a breaking point, but you could not afford a bad mark to taint your record, you needed to be a straight A student otherwise you would not get scholarships to investigate, just like you had always dreamt of, you had to push through. You would rest when all this was over, you thought, a little white lie that you had been telling yourself for years now.

Dumping your bag on the kitchen table you hadn’t even looked up to meet Lilia’s eyes, you were far too focused on getting the work done before you collapsed, pulling out several thick books you had borrowed from the library along with the close to four hundred pages worth of notes you had been taking since the beginning of the year, photocopies, schemes and drawings included. Lilia had not moved from her spot, not even an inch, her head following your frame as you headed for the drawers next to the TV and pulled out an old laptop you had been gifted like three years ago, turning back to the table only to lock eyes with her. She looked so beautiful tonight, why did she look so pretty? It wasn’t your anniversary or her birthday, maybe it wasn’t a special occasion, maybe she looked like that always and you had only noticed now, after not having properly looked at her in over a week. There was pang of guilt in your heart, but you couldn’t waste more time, and yet breaking her gaze was such a hard task, she seemed to be pulling you into her arms simply by raising her eyebrows ever so slightly, almost in a questioning manner, but you looked away and sat down. You were actively avoiding talking to her? She felt as if you were pushing her aside, away from you with this behaviour, hurt and anger mingling in her chest, fury glazing her vision as she bent to open the oven. It took the computer a few minutes to unlock, but once the wallpaper and icons were staring back at you, a picture of you and Lilia during a weekend trip to the Grand Canyon, you quickly clicked on the Word document titled “Ontogeny in Ammonoids”, the twenty pages you had written greeting you.

You loved your degree, but you hated it at the same time, scrolling through the pictures and diagrams you had both taken from books and done yourself with the information collected and provided by your teacher. You had loved it when you had first started it, but now you had to add at least twenty more pages, and you didn’t even know where to begin, your head resting on your hands for an instant, closing your eyes as you felt a heavy headache forming. What were you supposed to write? God, you had no fucking clue what their parts were, it was as if your brain had turned to sudden mush and you could not even comprehend a basic sentence, let alone carry on with this bloody project. Suddenly there was a loud bang right next to the computer, your head jerking up so fast that a whipping feeling hit your neck, rendering you immobile for a few moments, eyes looking at an oven tray that had landed on top of your notes, the dark sauce of a rotisserie chicken splattered over the words, staining and making some of the ink run.

-Lilia! What the hell?! – you pushed the tray hurriedly to the side, inspecting the damage done as anger rose in your veins. Looking up briefly at her you saw an angry smirk on her lips, hands on her hips. So now she wanted to be a bitch, great, as if you needed more people testing your patience.

-Oh, you are home, I didn’t see you there.

-What the fuck?!

-Don’t curse at me Y/N!

-What the hell do you expect when you’ve ruined my notes?!

-I expect you to look at me when you come home, for you to give me an explanation as to why you its ten and you’ve just only arrived!

-I can’t say no to my manager Lilia, you know this! – some of the words were unintelligible, impossible to fix unless you redid the entire page, front and back, anger spiking to the point that you feared anything at all could make it burst. And to top it all you were wasting time! You had deadlines and you need to be at the coffee shop at seven! You were going to have to pull an all-nighter– Fuck, I’m going to have to redo this.

-As if you do anything else.

You glared up at her, but the anger subsided when suddenly you had a coughing fit, turning your face away from her and covering your mouth with your hand. Lilia had turned around at the speed of light upon hearing you, bending her body over the kitchen table to check on you, worry painting her features. All the fight had left your body after that, the exhaustion slamming onto your body without mercy, as you let it fall back onto the chair. Lilia was still upset with you, but after what she had just seen it was obvious that you weren’t just tired, no, you were getting sick, and yet you turned your attention back to the computer, sighing deeply when you looked at your notes and then back at the screen. She felt quite guilty about what she had done, thinking that perhaps it had been rather childish form her part, so in an attempt to fix it she moved the tray away to plate some of the chicken along with the sauce, putting it aside while she went to grab a glass of water, adding a bit of lemon and a hint of honey, a little remedy she had been using for centuries now. Once that was done, she turned and rounded one of the corners of the table to sit on the only chair that laid facing you, but your eyes were glued to the screen, typing and then deleting only to type again, and you still didn’t like what you were writing. The touch of Lilia’s soft skin on your hand made you pause, turning your blurry eyes in her direction. Maybe you had been rude, but you had spent a lot of time working on those notes, rewriting them would take a couple of hours for sure.

-Tell me the truth Y/N, are you okay?

-I’m fine, I’m just tired.

-I’ve seen you tired, and you are never like this.

-I’m sorry, but what you did was really shitty.

-I know, I’m sorry. I was angry; you’ve never come home like this, without even saying a word. Maybe you need to stop and sleep.

-I would love to, but I can’t. Amanda and Tom bailed on me, and we have to upload this to the net tomorrow and there’s so much work left.

-Can’t you talk with your teacher, get an extension?

-He’s an ass, he won’t do it, he doesn’t care. I just need to finish this, Lilia. I promise I’ll rest when I’m done.

-I’m giving you one hour, if you are not done in an hour, I’m sorry, but you are not finishing it, I’m dragging you to bed.

-Fine. Just… let me get on with it.

-Alright. You have dinner behind your computer, and don’t tell me that you are not hungry because I know that you haven’t had a bite to eat since lunch time, if you’ve had lunch. Just eat, okay?

You nodded without much effort, knowing perfectly well that you were not really going to have much of the chicken, but you did grab the water, the warm liquid soothing your sore throat slightly. Lilia could feel the way you were melting, the way your resolution was slipping, but she also knew that you were not going to really stop, you were unable to, she had to let you get to a certain point, she just hoped that she didn’t accidentally let you go past said point. With a quiet sigh she stood and kissed your forehead, heading back to tidy the dishes and clean the sink as you poured yourself back into the assignment. Word after word you seemed to be filling up pages, adding pictures and moving in between the text and the references, but your body was giving up on you. You could feel the way your fingers were heavy over the keyboard, how your eyesight was becoming blurry, the paragraphs you had written dancing before you, coughing every few minutes into the crook of your elbow and yet you did not stop, you couldn’t stop. Lilia’s alarms were going off every time she heard you, but she had promised you an hour, though it was becoming harder and harder to keep her promise when her eyes could see from her spot on the couch how you were getting progressively worse, to the point that half of your precious notes had slipped down to the floor and you hadn’t even noticed.

She should have stopped you then, a mistake from her part, she had simply thought it a slip up, but when she heard you curse under your breath and beginning to delete like a maniac, a frustrated huff escaping your lips before you banged your head on the kitchen table, she knew she had stop you right away.  It had not even been thirty minutes, but she just couldn’t let you carry on, pushing herself off the couch and walking towards your spot with quick steps. The wood dug onto your forehead, but you didn’t care about it much, not when you had spent three whole pages writing about the wrong group of cephalopods and your whole head throbbed as your headache worsened, a pulsating feeling behind your eyes that increased the pressure on your sinuses as well. You felt like utter shit, actually that might not even cover it, your face squashed against the table, your arms hanging from your sides like ropes that seemed to weight as if they were lead, so heavy that you just couldn’t lift them back onto the table. Sitting once again on the chair that was facing you, Lilia took your face in between her hands and pushed you up until you were resting against the back of the chair, cradling your cheeks, noticing that your eyes were glassy, your face slightly clammy to the touch, cheeks blushing but it wasn’t due to something cheeky she had said, no, Lilia could feel how hot your skin felt against her palm. That’s it, she thought.

-You are done, darling. – her voice was quiet, nearly a whisper, but it boomed against the bones of your skull.

-What? No, I still have at least six other points that I need to address.

-I don’t care Y/N. You are sick, you need to sleep.

-No, I don’t! – you pushed her touch from you, missing the coolness of her hands against your skin the instant they left you even though they were still holding onto your hands, fingers intertwined, but you needed to carry on. She had said an hour, and it had only been twenty minutes, you could push through, you could do it. – I need to get this done or I will fail.

-Then fail.

-What? – there was the anger again, rising and bubbling inside your chest as you pushed her hands off your body completely, sitting properly back in front of the computer while still looking at Lilia utterly dumbfounded at her words. - You know how important this is for me!

-Yes, but I’m not going to let it practically kill you!

-Wow, that’s just being overdramatic, don’t you think?

-Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?! You are two seconds away from collapsing on me Y/N!

-I’m perfectly fine, I’m just tired! Honestly, I make a mistake and get frustrated and suddenly I’m an instant away from laying in a coffin?!

-If you don’t stop you might! Just leave it, it’s not that important Y/N.

-It might not be to you! Can’t you understand that if I finish this and I get an A I will have a perfect record?! I will get scholarships and job offers!

-So some job in a boring office is more important than your health?!

-Don’t act so surprised, as if you didn’t know that I’ve done it before. I will rest when I’m done, so please Lilia, let me finish the fucking thing!

-Don’t curse Y/N. And no, you are very much done. – without warning she closed up the laptop and grabbed it, your hands far too slow to hold on to it before she could actually remove it from the table, the thick book you had resting next to it closing with a loud thud. She had stood and moved away from the kitchen area into the living room, rounding the couch and muttering something under her breath so that an instant later two thick yellow chains appeared wrapping themselves around the computer, letting it rest on top of the coffee table. She had to be fucking kidding; you thought she would understand! Lifting yourself from the chair had been a harder task than you had anticipated, the world around you faintly, but you still stood on slightly shaky legs and headed her way, fury seeping from every pore in your body as you knelt over the carpet.

-Don’t play with me Lilia! Open it!

-No. I don’t like using my magic like this, but if it’s the only way to get you stop, I will.

-DON’T DO THIS TO ME LILIA! OPEN IT!

-Don’t scream at me! I won’t tolerate it! I’m doing this for your own good.

-Please Lilia, I need to finish this, please!

-I’m sorry, I can’t.

-You are such a bitch!

-Excuse me?!

-You heard me! You are being a bitch! – the temperature in the room was absolutely scorching, your jacket coming off, your hands throwing it onto the couch without you even noticing, as if your movements were on autopilot, nails trying to pry the laptop open, but it didn’t do any good, it was perfectly shut. In anger you turned your head to look at her, tears stinging your eyes. - What do you want?! All my attention, that’s why you are trying to ruin my life?!

-NO! Can’t you see what all this is doing to you?! I want you to stop killing yourself! You don’t deserve it Y/N.

-I’m doing what I’ve always done, Lilia, I can’t afford a slip up like this!

-And I can’t let you carry on. You need to stop, you are sick, you’ve overworked yourself so much that you’ve made yourself sick. Why can’t you understand that?

-Why can’t YOU understand that if I can’t stop! I’ve never stopped, I don’t know how to!

The tears were running down your cheeks now, burning your skin as if they were molten lava, leaving streaks on your clammy flesh as they fell drop by drop onto your lap, your hands letting go of the laptop in defeat as your body dropped onto the carpet, back resting on the couch. How did one stop, how could anyone stop what they’ve only known for their entire life? You had never done anything but work and study, you had never simply sat down to do nothing for whole weeks at a time, there was always some shift at the coffee shop, some assignment, some presentation that needed to be done for the next day. You only knew how to work yourself down to the bone and beyond and you knew that it was reaching a breaking point, but you just didn’t know what to do. Lilia saw you crumbling in front of her eyes, rushing and kneeling next to you to gather your shaking frame in her arms, swaying back and forth in a soothing motion. She had expected this to happen since she had seen you come in, and yet she felt so unprepared, unsure of what to say but if there was one thing she was sure about was that you needed her, and she would be there. Her eyes were looking at nothing, zoned out as every fibre of her being concentrated on you and the way your tears soaked her dress, your face pressed against her chest.

She might have been rude, cruel even, but you needed to hear it, needed to realise just how fucked up it was for people to overwork you like this, until you were so burnt out that you couldn’t even keep your immune system healthy and strong. You could not help being like this, doing the only thing you knew, but that didn’t mean Lilia could not help you see beyond, after all that was her thing as a divination witch. Looking down at you she could not help noticing some purple marks that painted the skin of your forearms, squinting to try and get a better look, distinguishing the blistered skin and burnt flesh surrounding each circular mark. They didn’t seem to be fresh, as if they had happened today or the day before, but they were certainly not old wounds. Carefully she pushed you away from her body, your eyes blinking through the tears in confusion, feeling how she took your wrist gently with one hand and pushed your sleeve up so she could take a better look. Oh, crap, you had totally forgotten about them.

-Y/N? – you turned your head towards the floor, unable to hold her gaze, those deep eyes watching you with worry, but she took hold of your chin and tenderly lifted your head. – What happened?

-I swear I didn’t do it on purpose… the first time. – you felt so ashamed about it all, how had you let your life become this… this sea of torment just to get the life you thought you were supposed to have. This wasn’t the way to do it, it couldn’t be. Your hand had travelled up to your mouth out of its on accord, the nail of your thumb in between your teeth as if the motion could make you feel less of the embarrassment that was coursing through your limbs. – I was at the shop, and I bumped into Jerry out in the terrace and his cigarette hit my arm. It was an accident but then… I bought a packet and… did it myself.

-You’ve been hurting yourself? Why?

-I… I’m not sure. When Jerry’s cigarette hit my skin, I felt… something and…

-And what?

-The pain somehow helped me push through, carry on with everything. I wanted that. I needed it.

-Darling.

-I know what you are going to say. I should have been more careful; I shouldn’t have continued.

-No, love, you should have asked for help.

-Help?

-All this is too much for you, you can’t do it all, you are only human.  – it was so tenderly the way she cradled your face in her hands again, her fingers twirling your hair in between them as her thumbs wiped the tears that were still falling. -You can’t hurt yourself so that the adrenaline helps you carry on. You can’t hide the exhaustion and the frustration behind a veil of pain Y/N.

-How do I stop Lilia?

-By saying no. People take advantage of you, they think that since you are efficient, they can simply tell you to do it all, but you can’t let them do that. Learning how to say no will help you in the long run, trust me.

-So, I simply fail?

-You tell your teacher what happened and if he doesn’t like it, I will personally talk with him and request an extension. But it won’t be tomorrow; I was not kidding when I said that you were sick, you are running a temperature, darling. You are closing your books for today and going to sleep.

-And work? I have a double shift tomorrow.

-You’ve got sick days, use them. Let me carry what you can’t, Y/N.

She always knew what to say, what to do to make you feel like the world wasn’t crushing you under its weight when you very much felt as if it were, and with your hands holding onto the neckline of her gown you pushed yourself against her chest to hide your tears back into the warmth of her soft bosom. You had wanted nothing more than to cross the threshold of the beady curtain and let your exhausted body fall into her embrace, the silence of the room broken only by her sweet words, whispered lovingly in your ear as you both fell on the couch, the coolness of her skin comforting the tears that had gathered in your eyes. Those same tears that you were now crying as you let your walls crumble around you. Lilia wrapped her arms around your form, letting you break, fall apart. You had been holding on for far too long, you had been dangling from the top of a building with only on finger to keep you there for years now, you had to let yourself fall, you had to let your body step away from all that was destroying you and simply feel gravity pulling you down onto the ground, because once you reached it there would be no blood, no bones breaking over the pavement, only the soft gentle touch of Lilia keeping you safe and nestle in her arms. Both of you swayed back and forth on the floor, the carpet digging on Lilia’s knees, but she would not move, not until you were ready, and by the way you were holding onto her it would be a long time before she would part from you. With a kiss to the top of your head she pressed her cheek to your soft locks, her fingers rubbing your back and drawing lazy patterns over your t-shirt.

-Promise me one thing Y/N.

-What? – your voice was muffled by her chest, the vibrations reverberating through her body, but she still understood you, a small smile painting her lips for a moment.

-You will never hurt yourself again.

-I promise.

-And please, if you need help, if you need me, tell me. I’m always here for you, darling. Always.

[starrycassi]

Snippet of my jayvik works for silco au.

This is sevika mildly trying to give Viktor relationship advice. In her own way.

"He's… decent looking. Tan. Got some bulk. Tall. I could see it, I guess. Probably. If I squint.” Sevika tells him, which is crazy, because they sort of look alike. Viktor, however, isn't actually that eager for the embrace of death, and will not be telling her that.

Jayce, in the middle of the room, laughs at something someone said. The music is loud enough that Viktor does not have to worry about his lab partner overhearing their conversation, they're far enough for him to hear Sevika’s words without her having to raise her voice too much.

The corner table they're in is his favorite table in the place for that very reason. The sound reverberates off the top of the walls, sound waves bouncing back and forth. There's a speaker over their heads, facing the middle of the room. Its sound doesn't reach them with the same intensity, not if they both sit as close to the wall as possible. He can almost feel the thumping drums right over his head. Sevika appreciates being able to watched the rest of the room without having to worry about her back.

“You're insane.” He tells her, hand shaking slightly. Jayce picks up a shot from a passing waiter, skin glistening under the neon lights. He throws his head back with another cackle, shiny, almost canine teeth showing in a cocky smile. The stretch leaves his neck bare for everyone to witness, and witness they do. Viktor feels the lust that fills some of the faces in the crowd, feels the way some eyes linger far longer that they should.

The shot goes down smoothly, except for the one droplet that escapes his lips. It slides down from the corner of his mouth to his beard, where his partner finally wipes it away with the back of his hand in a quick motion. Jayce's hair is long enough to brush against his cheekbones, and Viktor feels like tugging on it for the rest of the night. Oh, what a glorious night it could be.

A pair of fingers snaps in front of his eyes. He frowns, angry at the interruption. “Staring makes you look pathetic. Makes me look pathetic, by association.”

“It’s not my fault you've no taste, woman.”

Sevika groans, rolling her eyes. Jayce is dancing with an unknown girl. She's got pink skin and cheeks that gets pinker every passing second. Jayce spins her around. She giggles the whole time, batting blue eyelashes at him.

“You're making your own life way more difficult than it needs to be, boy. Fucking women isn't this complicated.”

"You only say that because you pay for the women you fuck. The brothel will get you a special room, at this rate."

"I'm sure there's no woman that would touch you with a teen foot pole. Not for all the money in the world."

Jayce leans down. Pink Girl smiles, leaning in. Jayce, who is an idiot in anything that doesn't concern equations, fixes her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. He goes back to dancing. She follows.

“I don't get you. He's just another loud dog. You've been successfully bringing men like him around for years, and you're getting cold feet now? Don't give me that look. The walls are not that thick and you always get the vocal ones. Do whatever it is you do usually, flash him a nipple or something, and get it over with. Can't be that hard.”

Pink Girl is very clearly trying to be brave. Jayce is very clearly trying to fix her bra. It keeps slipping down.

“He's a piltie.” She continues, spitting the word with all the vitriol a person can manage while slightly inebriated. She glances over at the duo, narrowing her eyes. “And fucking clueless. Glenda right there is practically throwing herself at him. With that combo of attributes? I bet he's never even give his first kiss.”

“How do you know her name?”

“Well, how do you think, eh?” Sevika lifts up an eyebrow, faint smirk growing in her lips. Viktor decides that he's heard enough.

“Whatever. And he has kissed someone.”

“And how do you know that?”

Turns out, Sevika doesn't quite like it when one imitates her answers.

She gets up with a disgusted look on her already unwelcoming features, goes to Jayce and physically shoves him away, elbowing him in the ribs. Glenda seems to forget about Jayce's existence, and let's Sevika take her by the waist. They grind against each other for less than five minute before disappearing into one of the rented rooms.

Jayce, apparently, decides that it is an amazing moment to come over and talk. Viktor makes sure to remember that they do have a job to do. Work. Science. Together. They're coworkers. Colleagues. Co-creators. Partners in the lab.

Jayce's half-open shirt doesn't really help his cause.

.

“This is ridiculous.”

Sevika seems to think that this is Viktor's and hers crush on Jayce. When they met, Viktor never took her for the noisy type. Then he turned sixteen and she decided that he was ‘adult enough’ to complain to.

“You are ridiculous.”

“Greatest genius of Zaun. Can't even think of one decent comeback when the mutt is near. And you're telling me you two spend the whole day alone, in a laboratory, building weapons for our people to use? The very same weapons I have to trust my life to? Amazing.”

Offended, Viktor huffs, burying himself deeper onto the couch.

“Our inventions are absolutely flawless, I will have you know. You arm is one of them. Haven't had any complains, now, have you?”

“The color is ugly.”

He flips her off.

They're in Jinx's… room. Lair. Playground. Whatever this gigantic fan is for her. Jayce, Silco and the kid are having a Very Serious Tea Party. Viktor isn't quite sure what part of his contract covers for this as company time. He doesn't actually have a contract, but, still.

Jayce is wearing a bright-blue, hastily applied lipstick. He's got sloppily applied pink, glittery eyeshadow. His hair is up in the two most asymmetrical pigtails ever. It's long enough to do that, now.

He's crouched down, ass barely fitting into the chairs. He'll probably complain about back pain tomorrow. He chuckles lowly, covering his lips with his hand. The teacup is a miniscule thing on his hands. Calmly, he grabs a sugar cookie and bites in. Silco also got the kid real cookies and tea to play with. For some strange reason.

“- so just fuck him, get it out of your system. Trying to tame your dick will just leave you with a desperate dick and a lot of frustration. As soon as you stop denying it and actually- are you even fucking listening to me?”

Jinx must say something actually funny, for once, because Jayce's laugh reaches all the way to where Sevika and him are retreated, Viktor arguing for pain in his leg and Sevika offering oh so kindly to take care of him.

Jayce rarely actually laughs, these days. He's a great pretender, but Viktor is an even better skeptic. The dry chuckles and pretentious giggles don't sway him, neither do the over-the-top roars of noise he lets out in public. This time, the corners of his eyes shrink, his shoulders shake, his face lights up, he laughs. A million sparks are born and die on Viktor's chest. There's something even worse than butterflies gnawing at his heart. It's not lust. He wishes it was lust. It's a horrible, sickening thing. One that makes Viktor want to hear him do that for the rest of their lives. Oh, what a wonderful life that would be.

Sevika is glaring at him. He should look at her. Say something. Anything.

Whatever expression he's making must be tremendously obvious, because Sevika freezes, a slow, horrified look creeps in her face. There is, also, a smile. It would be funny, if that look didn't reflect Viktor's exact feelings on the matter.

“Oh. Oh. Ohhhh, fuck.” She says, very eloquently.

“Oh, fuck, indeed.” He answers back, suddenly feeling nauseous. "So, Glenda?"

"She's good at what she does. Don't change the topic. Oh, you're fucked. This is so funny. You're absolutely fucked. I know there's at least three boys out there being avenged with this whole situation."

He can't even disagree with her.

[anima-writer]

heyyyyyy, can you do a headcanons with pomni, caine and gangle with a artist reader

also, have a good day my folk

:)

Pomni, Gangle & Caine w/ an Artist!Reader

Summary: The title

Warning[s]: NONE!! ALL FLUFF AND FRIENDLY!!!! I'M SORRY I DIDN'T SAW THIS ONE I'M SORRY

Pairing[s]: Pomni x Reader, Gangle x Reader, Caine x Reader; all platonic.

Word Count: 1.591

A/N: HHHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIII, THANKS SO MUCH FOR REQUETING!! YOU ARE THE FIRST PERSON TO REQUEST TADC HIHIHI

POMNI-

With an artistic reader like you, Pomni wouldn't make it at first glance. She would still be worried about looking for a way out of that place, so her attitude would be understanding; We should also highlight that she hasn't gotten along so well with anyone yet. Little by little time passes, and even though Pomni is still looking for a way out, she begins to have to socialize more with the rest of the characters to maintain what little sanity she still has left. And one of the other people she socialized with the most if we remove Ragatha, was you.

Time flew by and fled and without noticing, Pomni ended up making a friend during her journey through the place. With your friendship growing, it would be obvious for Pomni to notice your hobbies. Art.

Observing you, you usually draw/scribble some drawings in your free time; free time where Caine wouldn't be around to introduce them to a new adventure that would result in more mental discomfort. Seeing you just in your square without thinking about anything other than finishing your drawing makes herself stop for a minute from her own turmoil to analyze you while drawing. She's sitting next to you just watching, not in a scary way, just a Pomni tired of discord and wanting to do nothing but nothing.

You and your drawings are a good escape from reality when it comes to this subject. But even though she wasn't a total stranger, as her expression of tiredness at your side would be surprising, she gathered her strength to give you small compliments about your work:

"Humm, your art is cool..? No- hum is great! Yeah! So great that I can eat it!.......forget it please."

She's not good at giving compliments. But try. Believe.

One more idea I would like to share about a Pomni with an artist reader would be that she wouldn't mind you using her as paper. I mean, she would care, but wouldn't notice you using her as a paper. Come on, we have a Pomni babbling about her worries and conspiracies about this place with you by her side and we have you, bored because you forgot your sketchpad and just brought your pen.

With boredom slowly consuming you, you make some doodles on your palm only for it to become boring as well. However, the moment Pomni throws her arm towards you, you have a mischievous idea to start doodling on her arm. You start to make simple, small symbols so that Pomni doesn't catch you by surprise, but she ends up catching you by surprise… by not noticing anything.

Just disappointed, you just continue to scribble on her arm until it is completely filled with your drawings; when finished, she still hadn't noticed it.

Later, she only noticed her arm completely covered in scribble by someone else pointing it out. She would be totally tormented that she didn't remember you doing that. It seems like she was too busy talking.

In the end, she would think it was cool that you were an artist and would think it was fun…a little.

GANGLE— 

What a coincidence we have here, it seems like you ended up finding a drawing companion in this place. Gangle even enjoys the same interests as you, drawings! But, specifically, she likes to draw in a more anime-style way.

Like the others, she just watched you doodling, but tried to be as discreet as possible so you wouldn't think of her as a stranger. However, after you got to know each other better and started to socialize more over time, she had the courage to bring up her hobbies during one of her conversations, after a lot of courage required of herself.

For Gangle to be able to show you her work, it will take a lot of time because she is not used to exposing her interests. But after losing his fear, Gangle finally manages to show him his art and after that the two of you are talking for hours! And Gangle would be the one communicating the most.

Your conversations can be anything but make sure Gangle is the one directing the conversation. She's just happy to find someone who doesn't make her feel pressured.

“Hey, remember when you were asking about my drawings? So, um, I kinda drew you. Hope you don’t mind the art style...” –And soon the little masked woman in front of you would be handing you a piece of paper with a drawing for you.

I believe that Gangle would love to do some drawing challenges with you, and several of them would be: Drawing a character that was requested by another, drawing while running against time, drawing and having to swap each other drawings and continue, testing new drawing styles (In this specific case, I believe that Gangle wouldn't be able to escape her anime style; even if she wanted to). and etc…

Arriving next to you, you, once again, notice a masquerade made of ribbons coming towards you:

“[YOU]! Look! I did the art challenge that you made up for me! What do you think?”

One last thing I want to point out would be about compliments. Unlike Pomni who, at least, tries to praise; Gangle can't do it. She may be thinking of thirty-five different types of languages just to mention how amazing your drawing is, but when she opens her mouth, all that comes out is one: “Oh, cool.” 

During the night, Gangle squirms, cries, and starts having a meltdown in her bed all because she feels guilty for not saying what she really wanted to say. Please don't blame her, she really likes your art, she just can't express herself properly...

CAINE—

Unlike the others I wrote, he would be the only one who would notice your artistic side at first, however, he wouldn't point it out. Just make a mental note of this fact without you realizing it. However, he loves recognizing artists so if he saw you doing any kind of project, he wouldn't hesitate to praise you; Even though that moment isn’t one of the best…

“Wow, my dear!—” —Caine exaggeratedly expressed himself through the air– “—I can say for sure your work is fabulous!... But you should keep your eyes on the bull.”

And before you can even ask him what he was talking about, you're hit by a bull in a fancy beach hat.

Even though these small interactions are not always cool, given that Caine appearing right in front of you never means anything good, he has a genuine feeling for your art.

He likes to see you drawing at the same time he tries to do his speech, but doing two things at the same time can be a challenge. So, if you are just doodling in your notepad and don't listen to his voice, it’s because Caine is right behind you watching you draw. No one catches Flying Tooth's attention, because the longer you keep him busy, the longer everyone in that circus doesn't have an adventure; in which they are too tired to sustain mentally.

Bringing the theme of adventure to the surface, there are times when Caine asks you, in private, for your permission to use one of your arts for future adventures. It's not that he has few ideas for his adventures; His process of creating adventures would be in daydream, so imagine while he produced his work mentally, your work ends up infiltrating his mind, but unintentionally, the idea ends up becoming better than he imagined. And that's how we get our host's first sentence asking for permission. But don't worry, only if you want to of course...only if you want to be dropped in the void if you don’t allow it.

Just kidding, Caine would understand and move on.

With Caine being an art connoisseur, he has to prove it, and there's nothing better than showing it off to everyone. Caine, for sure, would be those types of parents who, if their child showed a common project for a child, they would display it as a trophy, that is, if you do something, be sure that if Mr. Tooth likes it, he will show it to everyone. . Whether you want it or not.

“Oh gosh, little star! I… I LOVED IT!”

About to respond, Caine continues his speech, taking your work from your hands: “LOOK EVERYONE!—” –Caine called the attention of the circus cast— “[YOU] MADE THIS!” —Caine floats above everyone with your project still in hand, not wanting anyone to miss it.

“Caine, you really don’t need to do it.” —You announce watching him while it flies moving from one place to another.

“Yeah. Those drawings aren’t gold, you know?” —Jax said, standing right next to you. Hearing this, Caine turned his “head” as quickly as possible towards the rabbit and then snapped his fingers, making him instantly disappear from your side. After this event, the silence soon prolonged until Ragatha broke it:“...Wow [YOU]! I love the way you used those colors in your art. It seems you took a long time to choose them.”

“Yeah! But I liked the lineart for sure!” –Continues Kinger

Some followed Ragatha's example just so they wouldn't end up with the same fate as their purple companion. Others, such as: Kinger and Zooble, didn't get the message or just didn't care that much about speaking verbally.

Caine really likes that one of his characters is an artist for sure.

[writerfromshikahr]

A pre-relationship piece. TW for some discussion of abuse, but nothing detailed.

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Pebbles - Lucanis X Rook Fanfic

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"I can see why this is your favourite spot," Rook said, gazing out at the bustling city below. "Treviso looks stunning from up here. I never got to explore this part of the city as a child."

Lucanis smiled as they sat together on the rooftop. "Illario and I would come up here and throw pebbles at the people below—until Caterina caught us," he said, smirking. "It was his idea, of course."

Rook laughed softly. "Yes, that does seem like something he would do," she said, turning to him with a knowing smile. "But you should have known better."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the distant hum of the city below filling the air. Then Rook spoke again. "Must have been hard, growing up with Caterina. She seems like a formidable woman. If your training was anything like mine…" Rook trailed off, her voice softening as she caught herself.

Lucanis regarded her for a moment, his gaze steady but unreadable. "She’s my grandmother, but yes, it was difficult. At the time, I hated her. She was impossible to please, and like most Crows, I suffered. But what made it worse," he said, his tone lowering, "was when she’d turn around and tell me it was because she cared for me. It was… confusing."

"I understand," she said quietly, though her voice carried the weight of her memories.

"And you?" Lucanis asked, his gaze lingering on her. "I learned a little from Viago. He may have called you 'his idiot,' but don’t take it personally. If he ever stops using that word, then you should start worrying." His smirk softened as he added, "You were eight when you joined House de Riva?"

"My parents were killed while they were trading here," Rook said, her gaze fixed on the city below. "We were walking back to our accommodations when some mercenaries jumped them. I don’t remember much of that evening." She hesitated, "But I do remember trying to use my dagger for the first time, trying to help my mother."

Her hand drifted to her lap, her fingers fidgeting as she spoke. "I would have been killed too if it hadn’t been for a Crow that… intervened." The word lingered, heavy with meaning. "House de Riva took me in...gave me a home, a place to sleep. But they never addressed what I’d witnessed. Instead, they used it, reminded me of that night, to push me harder in training." She glanced at Lucanis, her expression conflicted. "I’m grateful, but like you said, it’s strange to feel grateful to people who also hurt you."

"We have things in common, it seems," his voice thoughtful. "I lost my parents young, but unlike you, I had family." He glanced at her, his expression softening. "You were alone in a city that wasn’t your own, surrounded by strangers you had no choice but to rely on." He paused, his dark eyes lingering on hers. "Admirable resilience for someone so young, Rook."

"I get a compliment Dellamorte? I’ll take it...Viago doesn’t hand those out too often."

"Oh, you’re his favourite; that’s why he’s harder on you," Lucanis leaned back on his hands. "Besides, you have me by your side now. That’d terrify him more—he and I, we have a history."

"By my side? Is this just Crow loyalty, or… something else?" she mused, glancing down at the city. Her heart fluttered as the question lingered, unspoken feelings stirring beneath her curiosity.

He regarded her quietly for a moment before replying, his tone unreadable. "As I said, there are plenty of reasons to work with you. Some, I admit, might be more out of self-interest than others."

"Self-interest? I can work with that," she said, smiling at him.

Lucanis didn’t respond, and she hadn’t expected him to. Silence fell again, broken only by the faint hum of the city. She noticed him digging into his pocket.

"I almost forgot," he said, pulling out a small handful of pebbles and offering them to her.

"I wondered why you were picking those up when we walked here."

He smiled playfully. "Whoever can hit that merchant’s stall three times in a row buys the coffee later. Bonus points if you can land one in the bowl of mackerel."

Rook raised a brow, taking a pebble. "The fish? Now you’re just trying to show off."

Lucanis rolled a pebble between his fingers. "Maybe. Or maybe I just want to see if you're up for the challenge." He tossed the pebble lightly in the air and caught it, his gaze darting to the stall below. "Your move."

Rook narrowed her eyes, "Oh, I’m more than up for it."

She aimed, letting the pebble fly. It bounced off the corner of the merchant's stall, missing her mark by inches. "Damn it," she muttered, biting back a laugh.

He chuckled, leaning forward. "Close, but not quite. Watch and learn." With an almost lazy flick of his wrist, his pebble sailed down, landing with a soft plunk in the bowl. He tossed another pebble in the air looking decidedly smug.

"My coffee’s going to taste even better knowing you’re paying for it."